Examenes y experiencias finales

4 Agosto

I had seen better mornings on Tuesday. When I got up, I did my typical internet correspondence, including checking how much money I had left to spread out over the next week. I had overdrawn by about 10 dollars!!! Yes, I admit my on fault in (A.) not being more frugal, and (B.) not keeping better track of my expenses. But, in my defense, I probably will never come back here and the prices are really low, it's difficult to know how much money to take out from the ATMs when your banking is in dollars and you withdraw in pesos, and credit card transactions take days to appear. Well, lesson learned. Luckily I had 50 pesos or so in my pocket which lasted me the next couple days. So, I went downstairs and made myself an Argentine breakfast (toast and coffee), and tried to call Raliegh so he could put some mulah in my account. Then I went back upstairs to finish getting ready and make some hot water for my mate which I sometimes take to school. When I left my room to go, I smelled some smoke, but I figured it was just a neighbor cooking or something. But when I got downstairs, I saw that the entire house was filled with smoke! Our toaster doesn't pop up, and I'd left it in there for at least 15 minutes. I set down my backpack and matero (mate bag) and franticly opened all the windows to get the smoke out. No one was home, so when my family here reads my blog, they'll find out that I almost burnt their house down. After several minutes of fanning the smoke out, I picked my stuff up to go, and my thermos had spilled, soaking my matero. I wasn't extremely upset about any of this, but I thought it was funny that it all happened within an hour or so.

After all of this, I took my clothes to the lavadería and took the Subte to class, our last day to have Carlos. Thankfully, it was very laid back, since nothing we did that day played into our grade. We also discussed what we liked and didn't like about the class. Then all five of us went to Galeria Pacifica where we met up with Derek and another friend from Peru, and we all split a kilo of ice cream from Freddo. Yes, the love of Cambria's life. After that, Adam and I explored the entire mall, and we noticed a level to which no stairs or elevators went, but it said "Borges" on one of the clear walls that malls have, so I figured that we could get there through the Borges museum. I was right! And apparently that night there was a Pakistan art festival in the museum above the mall. They were also serving free wine, but the wine was really nasty, probably really cheap. I was proud of myself for being able to tell that the wine sucked. After walking briskly through we met back up with Cambria and Bridget, and then we took them up to see the art. Adam left, and went to a parrilla (grill) that I couldn't go to because of my financial situation.

I got home fifteen minutes after 9, and the family had already started eating. I was glad that I didn't go to the parrilla, because my family had made steak! After dinner I talked to Alejandra a little about her position on the guerra sucia (Dirty War), because we had to discuss our opinions on it for our final on Thursday in Cultura y Sociedad.

5 Agosto

Wednesday morning, I went to pick up my laundry with Amanda and Ava, but the woman working there wouldn't take my 20. It was a little faded yet clearly real --I could tell from the watermark-- but she wouldn't take it because she said it was "lavado" (washed). Luckily, I was able to borrow from Amanda. Afterward I went to class early to use the school's computers to look up linguistics stuff. For our final in Marta's class (Spanish conversation), all we had to do was talk about something for 5 minutes or more. My philosophy with any presentation that I'm giving is that I don't want to have to memorize anything that I don't already know, and I don't want to have to stretch out what ever I'm talking about it. It should be something that I enjoy and that I'm familiar with. Hence, I talked about linguistics, the most basic level which is phonology, the study of human speech sounds. I told Cambria and Adam, though, that I was presenting "fun-ology." The other four students all talked about their likes and dislikes of their Buenos Aires experiences, and then I talked about linguistics until the end of the class. I had fun, but I'm pretty sure I bored Alex and maybe even Marta. Luckily, the other three students said they were at least slightly interested.

Between classes, I tried to buy some medialunas y café cortado with my defunct 20, but yet again, it was rejected for being "lavado." We had Cultura y Sociedad next, but our professor, Guillermo didn't ever show up. Instead, his teaching assistant Franky taught the whole class, which was good, but by the end of it, my brain couldn't take any more Spanish. Can you believe it? Seven weeks in, and finally I had my first real experience of not being able to take in any more. Half-way through class Franky got a call from Guillermo. Guillermo was taking the train into the city, but the train had stopped because someone was sitting on the tracks in a suicide attempt. After class, Mbr and I took the Subte to Corrientes, where we would soon watch El fantasma de la opera. But first, we enjoyed some fine dining for 10 pesos each at a small burger joint on Lavalle. The man working there looked like Corky Romano, and he also did not take my "lavado" 20. Afterward we still had time to kill, so we stopped in an heladería where Cambria was unfaithful to Freddo. Near our table, we espied the first water fountain that we had ever seen in BA. We found out why they are so rare when a homeless man came in and washed up in it.

The opera theatre house was similar in size to the Midwest City High School PAC, but it was much more professional-looking and ornate. As we waited I tried to get a program, and the usheress said that they were "una colaboración." Apparently, that means that they want donations. Cambria donated some for us. I was extremely happy about our seats. We were toward the back of the house, but we could see the stage just fine, much to the dismay of the people selling unnecessary binoculars outside. The show began at an auction like the Phantom of the Opera always does. When they lit up the chandelier and started playing the music, my jaw dropped. It was incredible. There were lights flashing everywhere, and I was thrusted into the imaginary land of theatre. I actually couldn't understand all of what they were saying, but I still understood the plot as much as I have whenever I've seen it in English. The next time my jaw dropped is whenever the Fantasma/Phantom takes Christine down into his lair for the first time. Along with the pounding music, the stage filled with smoke as they gradually lowered a platform from the top of the stage to the bottom. Candles appeared from nowhere, and they got in a boat that really looked like it was floating on water. The set magically put itself together. This was the first time that I'd ever seen a professionally done musical, and I couldn't believe that they are so captivating. In other shows on a stage, I have to focus to be able to stay in the story, but this one just sucked me in, even though I didn't understand all the words. The actors definitely made the Spanish language sound amazing, too. Anyone who doesn't think Spanish is a beautiful language needs to hear it acted or sung, probably in a country other the the U.S. or Mexico. When the show was over, Cambria and I stepped out into the real, gloomy, polluted streets of BA and went to our respective houses.

6 Agosto

Thursday I woke up knowing I hadn't studied at all for our final in Cultura y Sociedad. Our final was going to be a coloquium, basically a graded discussion, Merkx style, over everything we had talked about during the course. However, my approach to tests has changed drastically over the last year or so, especially since most of my tests have been language tests. I figured if I know it, I know it; if I don't, I don't, so I studied as best I could with the time I had that morning, but I didn't freak out about it like in the old days. On my way to class, I went the bank to see if I could exchange my "lavado" 20 for another bill, since no one would take it. However, there was a ridiculously long line at the bank (probably for coins), and I didn't want to wait.

So, I didn't. I went to school and crammed as much as I could before class. Guillermo and Franky caught me in the computer lab. Franky asked, "¿Estudiaste?" (Did you study?) to which I responded, "Si, ahora ...todavía." (Yes, now ...still.), but I had actually just started studying. Eventually I had to stop cramming and go to class. Instead of talking about the Kirchner era as was planned, we jumped right in to the coloquium. It started out to be really challenging. We spent about an hour talking about a period in time that we talked about on our first week of classes (the beginnings of Argentina). Many of the questions he asked, I did not ever remember being taught. I did manage to put in my two cents about Rosas, though. He was Argentina's first dictator that came into power following Argentina's Civil War, but he did a lot of good things for the economy and what-not, so he's generally not called a dictator. Then we talked about Peron, and I also disagreed with Guillermo's view. He is a Peronist, and I said I thought that Peron gave the people a false hope. But they actually were really glad to hear that we had differing opinions. To them, it said that we had learned enough to think about the subjects on their own. My comments paid off well, and I was granted an 8 for a grade, which translates to a 90. After the discussion, we took a break and they read our grades to the class. Culture shock. Apparently, it's completely normal here to announce students' grades to the class. That would not fly in the U.S.

Guillermo and Franky were a hilarious team throughout having classes with them. Every once in a while Franky would call Guillermo a Marxist and say that he loves Chavez. Guillermo was always really excited about what he was teaching, and he was determined to make sure that we understood his every word, even the simple ones. Half of the words he asked if we understood were cognates like "inflación" (inflation). He would say everything at least twice, really loud and staccato, such as, "MUY! MUY! MAL!" and "ERROR y HORROR!" One word that was fun was when he would talk about "cows": economic cows, political cows, social cows, etc. He was actually saying "caos" (chaos), but the visuals that came to our minds were really funny.

After class, we were all elated to be through with classes. After saying goodbye to Alex, I walk with Adam to the Subte. On the way, I finally did it. I kicked a pidgeon. It wasn't as fat as I would have preferred, but I did it. I could now leave Buenos Aires knowing that I had done all of the most important things. I went to Adam's house where we killed time before dinner. I played with the three poodles a little, and I talked a lot to his host mom and learned about her political views. She supports the PRO party, which seems to be a pretty sensible party, against political corruption.

I forgot to mention it in my blog about the tour of the Casa Rosada and other buildings, but on that day, Marcos was talking about the protests that go on here. There is one or several just about every day. He and others since then said that wealthy, self-interested people will pay hoards of impoverished Argentines to protest. I was appalled! I was under the impression that people only protested for changes in government they wanted, but apparently not. How can the government know what the majority of people want, when a majority of people are being paid or otherwise coersed into supporting a view they might not even hold? Horrible. Such a system completely devalues freedom of speech. I can't even express how sad it makes me. For dinner, we walked to Dely Wok, where we met up with Cambria, Serri, Eric, and Bridget. Dely Wok is an all-you-can-eat Argentine/Asian buffet, and it was amazing! I was particularly impressed by their fish, which I don't usually like. I couldn't get enough of this fish; the waiter called it something that sounded like "Bogi." This place also had asado and dessert pancakes. We all stuffed ourselves. When we were trying to figure out how to pay, I left my "lavado" bill for a tip and exchanged it for different bills. I bet the waiter hates estadounidenses now. But I figure he'll know what to do with it.

7 Agosto

As soon as I got up and ready on Friday I was out the door. I still hadn't done the cooking workshop I signed up for, so Expanish finally set it up (on my last day) after I asked for my money back. Despite all of the students they've had this summer, I was the only one who signed up for the cooking workshop, so I had a one-on-one cooking lesson. I was fifteen minutes late, which is normal in Argen-time. The lesson was in the apartment of the teacher, Leo. Leo is a thirty-year-old wine server and salesmen who cooks as a hobby. He is a big, lovable, sort of guy, like Hurley from LOST or Josh Czajkoski. He explained that the stuff he was showing me was so basic to Argentine culture that it's not something that is normally thought of as something to have a "workshop" for. When I got there, everything was set up and ready to go, like a cooking show. We spoke in both English and Spanish, whichever struck our fancy. Leo said he also spoke German, French, and Italian, which impressed me. He showed me how to make empanadas and some sort of beef. The empanadas were easier than I thought. We didn't make the dough, because you can buy them premade here. All it was was onions, green onions, red and green bell peppers, boiled stew meat, and potatoes, chilled and then with optional boiled egg added, packed into a little pocket of dough. Our home-made empanadas were way better than the store-bought ones I've had here. Leo explained that those didn't have nearly as much love in them. The steak was amazing, the best I've had here. Leo kept talking about how incredible it was that different parts of the cow taste so different when they're only a few centimeters away. Since Leo is a wine connosieur, we ate our lunch with some really good wine, both blanco and tinto (white and red). This made us both nice and loose, and we had a fun conversation while we ate a very Argentine meal of steak, along with batatas, cebolla y papas, all fried in cow fat. So good. I stuffed myself again.

Then, I said goodbye to Leo and went to Expanish, where I took brief half-nap on a comfy chair. When Cambria arrived, I had some coffee, and we filled out our evaluation forms and turned in our phones. After Cambria left, Bridget came in to do the same, so I said goodbye to her, and went home. Sadly, of my host family only Brenda was there for dinner. We had some store-bought, loveless empanadas. After dinner I packed a little, and then went to goodbye party for Ivanna, a friend of Amanda's with Amanda, Rochelle, and Ava. The girls were all really tired, so we went back home after that and I packed some more before going to bed.

8 Agosto

This morning, I woke up, showered, and packed, occasionally bidding farewells to whoever leaves the house. Around 5:30, a taxi will come here and take me, Adam, and Cambria to the airport. Their flight leaves an hour after mine, and it will be nice to have people who I know to wait for the flight with me. It will also be nice to travel in comfortable shoes. And I'm booked for first class for my long flight this time. I'm looking forward to it.

Existe buena gente en este mundo.

1 Agosto

I would have to say that my last full Saturday in Buenos Aires went well. I woke up around 10 and took my time to get ready for the day as usual. By 12:00 I was out the door. I took the Subte to Plaza San Martín and then walked several blocks to the Museo Nacionál de Bellas Artes (National Museum of Fine Arts). I had planned on going Friday morning, but I slept in. I invited Cambria and Adam, but they both told me that they hate art. So, I went alone, and I had a wonderful time!

On my walk to the museum, I saw I couple things that I would have taken a picture of, so now I'll have to use 1,000 words to describe each scenario, but it's possible that the picture-word exchange rate is different here, so I'll do the best I can. The first was the flor de metal. This is a giant metal flower that opens and closes based on the sun. What the pictures online don't capture is that the flor is sitting in a large pool of water, so the water reflects off the flor brilliantly.

All around this area people use the sidewalks for jogging. Next to the museo, there is a area filled with various statues, many of which are nudes. There was an old man that was doing his stretches in between laps or just beginning, and he was stretching off of one the statues. The funny thing was that the place where he dedided to put his hand for the stretch was right on the butt of an innocent statue woman.

I might have to try visiting museums alone again in the future. I could peruse the paintings at my own pace, stopping only when I wanted, and never having to wait for anyone. I was amazed that this museum in South America had so many pieces of artwork from all over the world. I felt very culto (cultured) when I was able to recognize the names of several of them: Rodin, Manet, Van Gogh, Renoir, Degas, Cezanne (of font fame), Monet, Picasso, Rothko, Pollock, Debuffet, Chagall, Diego Rivera, Jaon Miró, Wassily Kandinsky, Benito Quinquela Martín, Xul Solar, and León Ferrari. And those are only ones I'm familiar with; I'm sure there were several more artists you might have recognized. I enjoyed this museum probably more than the Louvre because here I could actually read and understand the titles of the paintings and sculptures and the occasional informational paragraphs on the walls.

My second favorite work was a 3D mind trip made out of wood and metal in 1965 by Jesús Rafael Soto called Planes Virtuales. My favorite painting was a small one called La lucha contra la muerte. Though small, there was a lot going on the painting as figures of death were fighting against men, men with wings, and even animals.

My visit was a little hurried toward the end because I was meeting Cambria at Village Recoleta. When I got there, I still had to wait for her, so I went ahead and found a table at a sports-themed restaurant and ordered something off the sandwich menu and a café irlandes, which didn't taste very good after it got cold. Cambria arrived. I made a good choice. The sandwich was more like a chicken wrap but really good, especially with the sauce packets they brought out. I used a couple packets labeled "salsa golf," which translates as "golf sauce", an orange sauce that is practically the same as ketchup mixed with mayonnaise. I thought it was hilarious that they would market such a product. I was really distraught whenever I began to run low on salsa golf, but Cambria handed me packets of ketchup and mayonnaise. According to Wikipedia there's a history behind it.

From Village Recoleta, we walked to Santa Fe, where we got on a colectivo that would take us to La Boca so that Cambria could do some final souvenir shopping. I hadn't planned on it, but I ended up spending a pretty penny as well, but I got good deal, in my opinion. For no more than USD$S66.61, I bought some leather shoes(200 pesos), another mate with bombilla(10), a bombilla(5), a small poster of a smirking gaucho drinking Coke(5), a t-shirt(25), and a jar of homemade, preservative-free dulce de leche(10).

On my way to Argentina, my airport experience was dramatically brought down by my shoes. Since I flew standby, I had to dress nice in order to represent American Airlines well if I had to sit in first class. I've had these shoes probably since junior high, and every time I wear them, they painfully dig into my ankles in the front. It wasn't too much of a problem, though, because I normally only wore them for a few hours, at church or what-not, and most of the time I was seated. So, I wanted to buy shoes here to finally replace them. However, buying anything in Buenos Aires, especially something as customized as shoes, is very interesting. You always have at least one person suggesting several items, most of which are not at all what you want. I guess this isn't much different in certain stores in the U.S., but the language and culture barriers make the process much more difficult. Further still, it's hard to know if the salesman is really trying to help you out, or if he's jipping you. After passing one store by because I thought it was too expensive and didn't see anything I liked, I was looking at shoes at a nearby store. Of course, a man tried to help me, and I told him I wanted "los más baratos" (the cheapest ones). He had me follow him the store I passed by and handed me off to another guy. This guy was really helpful, and our business deal turned into a conversation. He helped me figure out my Argentine shoe size and found some comfortable, stylish shoes at their lowest price. In the meantime, as I tried them on, I dropped my wallet on the floor which he pointed out. This led to a conversation about my recent robberies. After hearing about the mugging, he lamented for me, "¡Hijo de puta!" (S.O.B.). Then we ended up talking about what I'm doing in Argentina, what I study at home, why I don't play soccer, and other typical conversation points. He told me, "Entendés el castellano bien" (You understand Spanish well), which, of course, I always enjoy hearing. After I decided to buy them, I found out that they weren't taking credit cards, and he helped me find an ATM. Whenever I finally paid, he bagged my shoes, and then he threw in a free keychain. This was a just a simple interaction with a fellow human being, but it did wonders for restoring my outlook of the porteño lower classes. The robberies had left me with with a subconscious bitterness toward them, but he helped me remember that there are good people in this world.

After Cambria and I had our fill of shopping, we bussed it back home, where I had intended on working on my paper for Political Science and Economics after dinner. But, Amanda invited me to dinner with her and her two friends, Rochelle and Ava, who are now living here in our house. Somehow, they convinced me to go, seeing as how I have two full nights to work on it before it's due. I did have a good time. We went to La salta de las ranas (The Frogs' Jump) Mexican restaurant, the same one that I went to earlier. Since I ate earlier with the family, I wasn't very hungry, but I shared some sangria with the girls and ate their spicy beans for them. Amanda had a blast taking pictures with funny faces. After that I came home and watched a few funny YouTube videos with Brenda and her novio Cristian, and then I went to bed.

2 Agosto

Morning came too soon. I wanted to sleep more, but I got up and went took the Subte to the church I went to twice before. This time, I met Cambria there. It was amazing, as before. This time we sang familiar tunes like Amazing Grace and The Happy Song but all in Spanish. Unfortunately, I underestimated the length of the service, so we had to leave mid-sermon, which was nice and awkward since the usher found us seats near the front.

The two of us walked to the San Telmo feria, which was surprisingly close. We walked around for several minutes. Cambria was on the prowl for a good deal on an ugly alpaca sweater. She finally found the perfect one --a bright orange one. In the meantime, I was starving and bought a pan relleno (stuffed bread) filled with pumpkin. I enjoyed it quite a bit until it became all cheese on the inside. Alpaca sweater in hand, we took the subte to Retiro, where I met Victoria and Greg, friends of Derek. We boarded the train, and just before it left the station Bridget and her new friend Mike (a Ghanaian) joined us. In Tigre, we made up for our previous lack of fruit market. However, I bought only some batatas (sweet potato fries), and the last place we stopped was our favorite, Waffles del Mundo. This time I joined in the "wahflay" fun and ate a waffle smothered in chocolate and dulce de leche, chased down by some pleasant cafe con leche. The train back to Retiro was so full that the only place to sit, if you can call it that, was in some raised butt spots near a train door in which we had to half-lean, half-sit. I took the subte home from Retiro and discovered that I was much later to dinner than I thought I would be. Nevertheless, by gracious family saved me some yummy milanesa and potatoes. A Alejandra y su familia, los agradezco a Uds. mucho.

3 Agosto

Monday, I simply went to school where I had class with Marta followed by class with Guillermo to make up for his sick days. Then I went straight home to work on my paper comparing populism in the U.S. with populism in Argentina. It was due the next day. I finished around 3 AM.

Adios a julio

31 Julio

Unlike every other Friday in Buenos Aires, today we had class. This was to make up for the days that Guillermo missed. So, we had another day filled with Guillermo's antics. While explaining how manipulative Juan Perón was, he said, playing the part of Adam speaking to Juan Perón, "Tomás [me] is son of the bitch," in his hilarious accent, and then, as me speaking to Perón, he said the same thing about Adam. He is filled with funny examples of things, and he will stop at nothing to make sure we understand his every word.

After class, I went home and have been doing research on populism ever since.

El mangante (The Pickpocket)

27 Julio

In Spanish class on Monday I pondered what you are now still pondering from my last post. Every once in a while, I decide to bring mate to class. This was one of those days, and Marta helped me perfect my mate-drinking technique. I was pretty sure that I had to give a presentation the following day over my essay topic in my Political Science and Economics class, so I was practically consumed with that all day. I hadn't done much research at all. I recounted my mugging story to my classmates, and Adam graciously lended me some plata, which lasted me until Friday. I don't like borrowing money if I'm uncertain when I can pay them back, so I told him that was only going to hang on to it in case of emergency. On my way home, I saw a Guia-T for sale in a kiosco, and I figured it was a good investment. After all, I don't want to end up on the wrong side of town again just because I didn't have my map book on me. I now had smaller bills which made it easy for me to justify getting a cheap superpancho for lunch. My only other option was skipping lunch. When I got home, I started doing research, or at least trying to do research, or at least trying to try to do research. I managed to find several good sources on EBSCOhost. For dinner that night, my family had an entirely vegetarian meal, something I am not at all used to. It was good, but strange. The food was like a casserole but with eggplant instead of pasta or rice, topped with tomatoes, onions, and possibly other vegetables. It was also served with some cooked, buttered slices of sweet potato. I think they called it "batata." We washed it down with water and pear-tasting juice, and then I had a tangerine for dessert. Weird, huh? I went back to research after dinner, during which I realized that I had stood up Giselle! We had a private tango lesson scheduled for that day at 6:30, and I had completely forgotten. ¡Qué horror!

28 Julio

Tuesday, we started talking about how difficult our papers were coming along with Guillermo, and he said they were due next Tuesday. Excellent. We suffered through the four-hour class, and afterward Cambria came home with me. I gave her a tour of my lodgings and introduced her to Nico, Brenda, and Amanda. I also met Rochelle, a friend of Amanda's from California who will be living here until after I leave. I wanted Cambria to meet Alejandra and Luciano, but they had gone out to see a free dress rehearsal of a play. Dinner was good though; Brenda made a lentel stew, over which we reviewed the vocabulary that we talked about at dinner the night before: expletives, euphemisms, insults, etc. One of the expletives that I found the most funny is, "!La concha de la lora!" Lora means parrot, and concha can mean "shell," but not in this instance. Anyway, after dinner, Cambria and I took a colectivo to a movie theatre where we watched La era del hielo 3 (Ice Age 3) in Spanish. Cambria and I were both glad that of all movies to watch in Spanish, we chose a cartoon. Even though they spoke pretty fast, it was really easy to follow the plot. We shared the theater with only 3 other couples, which made loud laughter a little awkward. The theater itself was interestingly laid-out: there was a raised trapezoid-shaped space between that bottom of the screen and the front row of chairs, and the chairs weren't particularly comfortable. By the standards of the typical, too-good-for-Tinseltown Oklahoma City Area native, the theater was not very good, but I am not hard to please. As I walked the streets of BA that night before and after finding my bus, I noticed that I was still pretty skittish. I definitely am less trusting of the people I walk past at night, especially a certain demographic.

29 Julio

Wednesday I had Spanish class again, after which I met Adam's parents at their hotel. The four of us went to mall in Recoleta, and then I had a Starbucks grande cinnamon dulce latte and a heated chocolate chip muffin to tide me over until dinner. I've decided that I definitely like Buenos Aires coffee in any café more than Starbucks. I'm surprised that their business is doing so well here. And that's all I have for Wednesday.

30 Julio

Thursday was going to be a good day. Finally, Guillermo Bustinduy had not called in sick, so we would finally have our Culture and Society class, but first, we had a tour of historically significant buildings in B.A. We were supposed to meet at 10 AM at Plaza San Martin, which it turns out is the Plaza with the giant tree that I traversed on my second day here. Thus, I had to get up early for the first time in days. So, I got all my stuff together, and took the Subte to Plaza San Martin. When I got there, I still had 40 minutes before 10 so I found a Havanna café, and had some café there. I love going to cafés in the morning. Just like the other one I wrote about before Temaikén, there were several businessmen and women in the café, and each one had his/her own table. Most were reading their newspapers. I wanted to see if I could sneak a picture, so I reached my hand in my pocket to get out my camera, but my pocket was empty. Confused, I searched through my backpack to see if I'd put it in there, but it wasn't there either. I was sure I'd put it in my jacket pocket before I left the house because I wanted to take pictures during the tour. My camera was, and is, gone.

Circumstances had led up to this occurring. Somehow in the transtion from Misiones to BA, I misplaced my camera case, which I wasn't extremely concerned about, just annoyed that I'd lost it. Also, my camera's strap had broken, so I tied it together the best I could, but it made it to where I could no longer carry my camera with the strap around my wrist like I normally do. Again, just another annoyance. Normally, I would put my camera in its case in my backpack, or I would have it in my jacket pocket with the strap around my wrist, but today I kept it in my jacket pocket because I didn't want it to get all scratched up. And because it was cold, I was wearing my heavier jacket. All of these factors made it much easier for a camera to slip out undetected. Surely I would have noticed the bang on the ground if it had fallen out though. By the time I made it to the meeting place for the tour, I had decided that it was pretty clear that I had been pickpocketed, likely on the Subte on the way here. Later in the day as I was mulling it over, I did remember a moment in the Subte when it was pretty crowded and there was a man near me who I thought hovered in a strange way. I could feel/hear him making movements behind me, and he was holding his newspaper in a strange way that made it bump into me a lot, and it even blocked my line of vision to the floor on my left side. Of course, at the time, I didn't think much of it because everybody bumps into eachother in the Subte and I ignored it, but now I'm pretty sure that's when it happened. I never even turned around to look him in the face. I'm guessing he used the newspaper bumping me to distract me from my right side which is where the pocket was that I had my camera in. I can't believe though that he even knew that I had anything in the pocket, because it doesn't make a protrusion in the coat or anything. You'd also think that I'd feel the weight of it leave my side, but Adam reminded me that pickpockets are well-trained to be able to steal undetectedly. I must say, I'm impressed. I wish that people who are smart enough to steal so intellegently would use their intelligence to get a legitimate job.

Needless to say, I was hacked. Mugged and pickpocketed in less than a week. I kept telling myself things like, "It's just a thing; it can be replaced," "At least you got in Iguazu photos," "At least there weren't many pictures in there," and, "There's only a week left and you won't need to take any more pictures." But none of these changed my anger at this city, and it made me really want to go home.

I sucked in my emotion, though, for the sake of the others during the tour. I wasn't even going to tell them what had happened because I didn't want it to be an issue, but I remembered that they often expect me to take pictures of the things they don't. So I told them, unintentionally spilling out some anger as I told. Cambria, my homie, let me take pictures with her camera during most of the tour, saying that I would take more than she would any way. She's a good friend. I did enjoy the tour. It was led by Nacho, one of the two tour guides who had taken us to La Boca, San Telmo, and Puerto Madero, and it was in Spanish which I could follow most of the time unless I was focused on trying to make Cambria's camera focus.

Plaza San Martín itself has historical significance, and from it you can see the miniture Big Ben near Retiro train station. I believe it was a gift from the British or something. Ironically, or perhaps intentionally, facing the clock tower in Plaza San Martín is a memorial to the men who died in the the Falkland's War in the 1980s against England. From there we walked across the street to a mansion called "Palacio Paz" (Peace Palace) that used to be the home of a single wealthy family. Now it houses the Club Circulo Militar, which is something like a Veteran's Club. The mansion is astounding. The rooms are enormous and decorated ornately. In the ballroom, I even danced a little tango with Alex, and Cambria sat at the head of the table in the dining hall. One room was enormous and resembled the Casper mansion. The patio floor outside was slick enough to skate on, and our tour guide said that actually, many people did skate on it. On our way out, I noticed that there was a memorial for those who died during "La guerra contra la subversión." I asked when it was, because I had never heard of that war, and by now I thought I'd had a decent understanding of Argentine history. They gave me a year, which was enough to be able to look it up later. After we had gone outside of earshot of anyone around the mansion, Nacho explained that that was what they call what everyone else calls the "La guerra sucia" (The Dirty War). During this period in time Argentina had its most destructive military dictator, Videla. During his rule, thousands of people who spoke out against the government mysteriously disappeared, most of whom were killed. The men in the Club Circulo Militar and their families are a small minority who are still faithful to Videla. They are also part of a higher class, as Nacho later asked if we noticed our tour guide's nasal accent. I enjoy getting tours from the everyday Joes that Expanish provides because they don't sugarcoat the history, and they provide perspective from the point-of-view of the everyday middle-to-lower class porteño.

After the palacio, we took the Subte to Plaza de Mayo, where we went to El Cabildo. This is a really old building that had been reconstructed several times. It was originally where the viceroy, the political leader of the Viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata ruled under the Spanish crown. But since 1940, it has been used as a museum.

From there, we walked across to the center of the plaza. There were some protesters there circling the Revolución de Mayo Obelisk. This group is called the "Madres," and they gather every Thursday morning at Plaza de Mayo in front of the Casa Rosada to mourn for their children that disappeared during the dirty war and to demand that the government releases information about them. I was expecting that we would be able to go inside the Casa Rosada, so I was sad when we didn't. But, we did see the markings left on the Casa Rosada and the charred palm trees around it from when the government bombed it twenty-fiveish years ago.

From Plaza de Mayo we walked to the the Museo de Eva Peron, which left me with several songs from Evita playing through my head. It was quite an impressive museum despite the controversiality of Eva Peron herself. After this museum, we only had to walk a few blocks to get to class, but we stopped in a couple kioscos to get some lunch. By now we were starving. We were late to class, but Guillermo didn't seem to mind, and he didn't mind that we ate either. For me, class seemed to go on forever. Guillermo is fun to listen to, but he pauses so much that it cn be difficult to follow his trains of thought. Also, he's a big talker, so the class is not at all discussive. If you ask one quesion, he's answering for the next five minutes.

Eventually we got free. After class, I took the bus that Cambria and Bridget take home every day. We talked to an Argentine girl a little while. When we got off the bus, we walked to Recoleta cemetery because there was a place there where I could by tickets to go see El fantasma de la opera. Cambria and I are going Wednesday, and I'm really excited about it.

Then we walked back to Cambria's apartment, where no one was home. Cambria shared her ñoqui with me from the previous night, pronounced NYOH-kee. It is a tradition here to eat ñoqui on the 29th of every month in celebration of still having money, or something like that, a much-needed celebration for a culture who has suffered through so many changes in government and economic crises. My family doesn't do the tradition but Cambria's and Bridget's do. Ñoqui is a pasta thats made around a chunk of potato, and I liked it a lot. It was kind of like tortellini. Then I went home, had dinner, and updated you on the last week of my life. Finally, I'm up to date!

Too tired to do a spelling and grammar check. I'll do it later. Don't judge me.

El atraco (The Mugging)

24 Julio

Friday I played the snooze game with my alarm clock on my phone and ended up gaining complete consciousness fifteen minutes before I was supposed to meet Adam. So I raced to get ready, then took a taxi to Abasto shopping center where we met in front of Burger King. I bought some coffee, and then we walked around the enormous mall. It has four or five stories, and the fifth story is like a Celebration Station or Discovery Zone, for those of you who remember DZ. We had a pretty good time looking at stuff. I was looking for some more comfortable brown shoes, because the ones I wore to the airport dig in to my ankles, and I've had them for several years. I found a store called "Toot" and had to take a picture of it. A mall cop saw me, and explained that we weren't supposed to take pictures. We had lunch in the food court, then parted ways. I was going to look at some stores down the street for some shoes, but I didn't see anything that looked affordable, so I kept walking to various places to buy things for people. I can't say to much or I won't be able to surprise you. On my way back I stopped my the grocery store and bought enough mate to last me through the winter (hopefully the groundhog doesn't see his shadow). Then I had dinner after which I took a colectivo to Palermo. I had to wait for the bus about 30 minutes because not as many run at night. I got off the bus at Plaza Italia, and then I had to walk 10 blocks to the bar where we were having a goodbye party for Gretta. I've had to go to this part of town several times, and it's irritating that colectivos don't go anywhere near there. It was a typical bar, I guess, with a bunch of people and loud music. They even had some disturbing scenes from Clockwork Orange rolling on a projector. Bridget didn't like the music, so she, Cambria, Gill, and I decided to go somewhere else where there was actual dancing. We couldn't find the place that Cambria wanted, and I had to pee like the dickens, so we stopped in a restaurant and (after using their bathroom) had some fries and guacamole. I had a good time, but the girls, wanting to dance, didn't. After that, much to Cambria's dismay, we went home because it was already nearing 5 am.

25 Julio

Saturday I slept in well into the afternoon. When I checked my email, Amanda, from downstairs, sent me a Facebook message, inviting me to lunch at Natural Deli, one of her favorite restaurants here. During dinner we had fun talking it up about various things, home being one of them. I explained (and was reminded) to Amanda that no one city is my home any more since I've moved so much since high school. Instead, my home is people, so I have a little bit of home in Shawnee; Moore; Midwest City; Choctaw; Columbia, Missouri; and Spaldergeibenheimen, Germany. Anyway, it was a great little restaurant, one that I thought Val would appreciate a lot. I got coffee and some sort of chicken sandwich that had pesto and sunflower seed kernels. We talked about things we wanted to do that day, and I said I would like to go to the Recoleta feria (artisan fair) where I had been twice before to look for another mate. She was game because she, even though she's been here longer than I have, still hadn't been to a feria. On the way, we stopped at an ATM where we got out money for the feria along with the money I was planning on spreading out over my last two weeks here. The fair was interesting, as usual, filled with handmade you-name-its. Amanda found a table of handmade glass jewelry and went nuts! She ended up buying over 100 pesos worth of jewelry for her and her sister (if she decides to give the jewelry up when she gets home, that is).

Unfortunately, we arrived pretty late to the feria and some vendors were already putting away their merchandise. I had just enough coins to take a colectivo home, and Amanda had to get change from a kind vendor. We didn't have our Guia T's to be certain, but we were pretty sure that the 61 would take us home. We were wrong. The bus took us south and dropped us off at the end of its route to a barrio called Constitución. No big deal; it was only a twenty or thirty minute walk home. We started making our way in that direction, and the dark neighborhood started looking pretty sketchy. Amanda was commenting on just that when two young porteños started walking toward me, preventing me from crossing the street. As they came even closer to me, they mumbled a few words in Spanish, but I could only make out one: dinero. One man came up to each side of me, and I froze in shock as they each stuck their hands in every one of my pockets. The one on my right didn't feel anything he wanted so he started walking away; the one on my left found my wallet, took it out, and starting walking away. Without much of a plan, I followed him a few steps. Given more time, I probably would have tried to figure out a few words to get him to just take the money and give me my wallet back. I couldn't even remember the word for wallet, billetera, but thankfully, the man just took something out, then tossed my wallet on the ground, which I promptly picked up. All he took was the contents of the large pocket: 215 pesos; a copy of my passport, license, and insurance; and 8 weeks worth of collected receipts that I had intended on cleaning out one day. I'm glad he cleaned my wallet out for me, one less thing in the back of my mind. Thankfully, he did not take any of my cards, including my debit card, driver's license, monedero, and Subte passes. Of course, this all happened in 20 seconds or so, but time seemed to stand still. I saw Amanda again, hurriedly walking across their path, but they seemed appeased by their find and didn't go after her. Whenever they started coming toward me, she had hurriedly walked off in another direction, which she later said that she felt bad about. But I am so glad that she did, because they probably would have gone after her, too. If they had gone after her, I would have either frozen up or gotten angry and protective. If I had frozen up, I would never be able to forgive myself for my cowardice, but if I'd reacted, it probably would have ended pretty bad. Furthermore, she had twice as much cash on her as I had. We thought about all these things as we took a taxi home, something we should've done much sooner. Over all, if one of us were to get mugged, it happened in the best way possible (said Pangloss). No one got hurt, and all I lost was cash, pride, and a sense of security. After dinner, I talked to my compadres Connor and Raliegh about it over the phone, which was good for me in light of the situation and good for me in general because I hadn't talked to either of them for weeks. Thank you, God, for my friends. I thought about calling home, but I didn't want Mom to get too worried about me over here. Of course, I did make it public on Facebook, so she would soon find out. I hope you know that I love you, Mom!

26 Julio

Sunday morning I slept in because I had gone to bed so late and because Adam was going to the airport to pick up his parents who are visiting him here on vacation. But I did have a lot of homework to do. I made myself some mate and read a short story by Julio Cortázar a man who vomits conejitos (bunnies) that end up ruining his life. It was very strange, but interesting, too. I learned the next day in class that the bunnies represent words, and the man in the story is an author. Hence, an author must be able to control the words that come out of him, or else they will destroy him. I'll leave you to ponder that.

Clase de Nuevo

20 Julio

Like I ended on the last post, Monday morning I actually managed to sleep on the bus, so well that I missed breakfast. When we finally made it to Retiro bus station, Adam and I carried our luggage to the Retiro Subte station. I must say, it was a little upsetting to my lungs to return to the polluted city air. However, it was also interesting to be coming back to the familiarity of the city. I was coming back "home" to a place that at one point had been completely foreign to me. When I made it to my house I still had a ton of time before I had to be at class at 2:00, so I took my time to unpack my bags. Then, I took a colectivo to Recoleta where I had lunch at Café Martinez near our classroom. I wanted a panini, but they were out, so I got some other sandwich they had, caliente. The sandwich ended up being way better than a panini, and I enjoyed it with my café cortado doble as I finished reading Borges's El Sur, about a man coming home from the hospital. Class with Marta was enjoyable as always, after which I went home to start editing Iguazú fotos. At 8:00, I had my individual tango lesson with Giselle. This time, I absolutely loved it. We spoke in Spanish most of the time, which I appreciated, and I discovered that many of the stressful things that were going on in my group lesson were not my fault, but the faults of the women I was dancing with. Also, in the individual lesson, Giselle was able to teach me how to lead the woman properly so that she can read my leadings well. After our first extended period of dance, Giselle said to me, "ningun error" (no mistakes), which flattered me. At dinner that night, I was able to speak with some degree of fluidity with my family as I told them about my day and my trip to Iguazú. I went to bed pretty early that night because I had had such a long day.

21 Julio

Thus, the next morning, I woke up pretty early, too, and I had an amazing shower in which I cleansed myself of the muddy rain forest and stuffy bus of the last two days that clung to my skin. My computer wasn't working, so I went downstairs where I watched Sin idea (Clueless) with Brenda. Then, I made a treacherous journey to class. It was raining, sometimes lightly and sometimes cats-and-dogs. When it was raining lightly, I left the house to go to my bus stop, wearing only my hoodie to protect me from the rain. It wasn't too bad. I stayed mostly dry, but when I got out of the colectivo, it was pouring. I got under the overhang of a storefront where I took out the "emergency poncho" that I'd been keeping in my backpack the last 2 or 3 years. I bet you didn't know I had an emergency poncho, did you? So, I put it on, and it kept me dry, except from my knees down. They became drenched, as if I had walked through a baptistry (How's that for a Christian simile?). Since I still had a lot of time, and since I needed coffee to make it through our 4-hour class, I stopped by Café Martinez where I got a muffin and coffee para llevar, and they even put it in a rain-proof take-out bag. I enjoyed class for what it was. I felt like I was able to understand a lot more than I had in previous classes. Maybe I needed a trip to the rain forest to be able to go to the next level in Spanish comprehension. The rest of the day was largely uneventful. I had dinner with my family as I do every night and I enjoyed it. After dinner, Luciano enabled me to access their Wi-Fi because they had set up a security system on it because neighbors were slowing down their internet experience. I was then able to upload pics to Facebook, a very Argentine way to spend my night.

22 Julio

Wednesday morning, I collected all my dirty clothes and put them in bags to go to the lavadería. Then I went to my closet to get a clean shirt, but when I grabbed one, it was wet, along with all of my other clean clothing in the closet. Rain from the previous day had somehow leaked into the floor of my closet, and my clothes absorbed all the water. So, I sloshed them them all outside and hung them up to dry on my veranda. I had to wear a tourist shirt I bought from the Aripuca. The weather was pretty nice on my veranda, so I figured I didn't need to abrigarme mucho. This was a mistake. As soon as I turned the corner of my street I was hit by 30-degree wind gusts --the kind that make you have to push against the wind to get where you need to go. Horrible. In Spanish class that day, we reviewed several things, including esto árbol, eso árbol, and aquel árbol, which mean this tree, that tree, and yonder tree, respectively. Over all, it was a very informative day, and I got a lot of long-standing questions answered. De'pue' de clase, Cambria, Adam, and I went to Burger King, because (a.) Cambria's friend had told her that it's really good overseas, and (b.) it's one of the only restaurant that serves anything besides cafe y medialunas during merienda (If you've been following my blog, you should be familiar enough with these terms to where I don't have to translate them for you; if not, use the "find" function of your browser). Our BK experience beat our McD's experience, hands down. All of the food we ordered was much better. The three of us ended up chatting in the BK lounge for about 3 hours in a truly Latin American fashion. I found it really interesting that several people in BK came there for merienda, as they had nothing in front of them except the aforementioned cafe y medialunas. It's cool that such a meal is so ingrained into their culture that the fast food restaurant chains can't compete with local businesses without adapting to it. That night I had dinner with just the jovenes (young people) of my household, which was fun.

23 Julio

On Thursday I was all ready to go to class, but as I was waiting for my colectivo to arrive, I returned a missed call. It was from Luciana, director of Expanish. Within an hour of class time, our profesor, Guillermo Bustenduy, called in sick (again!). So I went to another parada and got on a colectivo headed for Expanish, in the hopes of saving Adam. He goes to Expanish every morning before class, and he doesn't use his cell phone, so he would have had no way of finding out that class was cancelled. Unfortunately, Adam wasn't there, but I did see Sven who invited me to go to La Boca with him and a couple friends around three of the clock. So I took advantage of Expanish's free coffee, cookies, and internet. They recently did some rearranging of their lobby area, opening up more space. Looking back, one of my first impressions when I went to Expanish was, "What a horrible use of space," so I was (and still am) really proud of the improvement. The added space also enabled them to install more computers for their 21st-century clientele. On the computer next to me, I noticed that the guy was reading an email in a language I'd never seen before, so, por supuesto, I struck up a conversation. His name was Victor, and he was from Sweden. Hence, he was reading Swedish. Apparently, Swedish has a dipthong indicated by this symbol å, which is like a combined /o/ and /a/. Needless to say, I was fascinated, and I found out that Victor is one of Sven's friends that was going with him to La Boca. While we waited for 3 (that was when Sven got out of his private Spanish lesson), Adam showed up to Expanish, and I communicated with Cambria and Bridget. Cambria was going to hang out with Derek, but Bridget was coming to Expanish, too. So soon after 3, the five of us left Expanish and took a colectivo to the touristy part of La Boca. The other of Sven's friends that was supposed to go was Edward, who I knew from the Iguazú trip. Edward forgot about going even though he and Sven had been talking about doing it all week. It was the Europeans' first time to La Boca so everything was really new and exciting to them. Adam and I mostly window shopped for souvenirs, holding up the group I'm sure. I ended up getting a matero (mate bag) for buen precio (a good price). La Boca is right next to the Rio de la Plata, and it was really cold and windy the whole time, but fun.

From La Boca, I took a bus to Abasto because I had a group tango lesson in a couple hours. Since I arrived so early, I went into the Abasto shopping center, a mall bigger than Galería Pacífica. According to Nico, Abasto's mall is average sized, and Galería Pacífica is "chiquito." I can't imagine the size of a big mall here. I was planning on coming here the following morning, so I didn't want to buy anything, but I at least thought I'd look around for some jeans and maybe try some on, so I would't slow Adam down. I decided that jeans were something I wanted to get in BA because, first of all, men are shorter here, and therefore there should be jeans that fit me better. Second, prices are lower here. Third, whenever I wear them at home and someone says, "Hey, I like your jeans. Where'd you get them?" I can say, "Buenos Aires, sucka!" Most of the stores' jeans were really expensive, even after dividing by three or four (which is how I get an estimate of dollar amounts). But I found one store called Soho that looked trendy and affordable, so I grabbed two pairs that I thought looked good. I didn't have any trouble finding my size, because they use the same sizing system we do. The first pair fit like emo pants, but the second pair was perfect. I didn't want to risk them being gone the next day, so I bought them. I was kind of worried that Soho was an American or European store, but I did some research later and found out that Soho stores are only in Argentina.

Then I walked toward my dance studio. I was starving, so I stopped inside a COTO grocery store to see if they had anything ready-made. I got the run-around from the security guard, who had to put my backpack in a plastic bag, tie it up, label, and sign it. I got some sort of pumpkin patty that was dry but sufficient to tide me over until dinner. This group tango lesson was much more enjoyable, now that I new what I needed to do, and what my woman needed to do. I ended up dancing with women from 4 different countries: the U.S., Argentina, Switzerland, and Israel. The Isreali woman's husband was Yetz, who arrived the same week as the others in my program. Apparently they are not orthodox Jews, because I was allowed to touch her. I had fun dancing, and I could even tell the different experience levels of the women I danced with. Some of them followed my leadings well, while others (the Swiss woman) were really sloppy and difficult to non-verbally communicate with.

When I got home, I had the dinner that Alejandra graciously saved for me. It was really good: arroz con pollo (rice and chicken), which I always love, served with a sauce made from nothing but cerveza negra (dark beer) and cebollas (onions). Muy rica.

Viaje a Iguazú

16 Julio

Thankfully on Thursday we did not have class because Guillermo was sick. This gave us all opportunity to get everything together before we met at Expanish at 6 to leave for Iguazú. Soon after awaking, I started packing and realized I didn't have any clean clothes. So I threw all my laundry in a bag and walked to the lavadería (clothes washing place), where they wash your clothes for you. My lavadería only charges 8 pesos ($2-3) per load, but apparently Adam's charges 10, and Cambria's 13. It's a really good system. I pay only a little less to do my own laundry at a laundromat, and they wash, dry, and fold your clothes for you, which makes transport and storage of the clothes insanely easy. I might be getting spoiled by my lavadería. Normally they need several hours to have your clothes ready for you, so I was concerned that I would be out of luck, but I told the Asian woman working there that I needed them by 5, and she said it could be done.

Then, I met up with Bridget, Cambria, Adam, and Serri (Cambria's housemate) in order to satisfy our cravings for Mexican food. However, this Mexican restaurant was unlike any we'd ever seen. Instead of the corn chips that we all know and love, there were flaky chips that were more like wontons from a Chinese restaurant. Interestingly, the salsa also seemed oriental, much like sweet and sour sauce, with just a little spiciness. My entree was a stuffed crepe filled with spinach, mushroom, and chicken. It was all really good, but not any sort of Mexican we'd ever eaten before. As we lingered in the restaurant we noticed more peculiarities. Above our table, there was a chandelier made out of corn cobs. Also, at one point, I stuck my hand under the table and flinched when I felt something spongy and foamy. It was spongy foam. I had fun watching the others flinch when they felt it, too. For dessert, I got... (you guessed it!) flan. This flan had an orangy flavor and was really good.

After we ate, I went back home. I strolled by the lavadería to check on my ropa (clothes). They weren't done yet, so I walked to Farmacity (comparable to Eckerd's), and bought some much needed toiletries. While in the checkout line, I talked to an American girl and an Argentine guy who work for an intercambio program that lets English speakers and Spanish speakers practice speaking together. By the time I got back to my lavadería, called "Burbujas" (Bubbles) by the way, my clothes were done.

I think I remember previously mentioning a homeless man who pointed out which door was mine the first time I walked back to my house, which I thought was very strange. This same man always sits in the same spot on the porch of a kiosco next to the entrance to my housing complex. Normally, I walk past him and say "Hola," and keep going. But today I turned back and asked him what his name was. David. I told him, "Mucho gusto," and offered my hand for a hand shake. He showed me his right hand, or lack thereof, which I hadn't noticed before, so we did one of those awkward opposite-hand hand shakes while I have him a sympathetic "I had no idea" look.

By the time I made it to my room, I had less than thirty minutes to pack everything that I would need for the next 4 days. And since I was only using my backpack and my laptop case, this was rather difficult, but I managed and arrived at Expanish on time. From Expanish, we took taxis to the bus station. This whole trip I would continue to be grateful for Marcos, our tour guide/chaperone who also accompanied us to Colonia. He arranged the taxis, bus tickets, and everything else. In addition to being friendly and silly, he took care of all of the details of the trip that would have been really stressful if I had gone on my own. Somehow he's found the perfect balance between responsibility and flexibility, and he never seemed too concerned about time. If one event fell through, we simply found something else to do.

Something strange about Expanish is that it seems like in a group activity if anything is being handed out, I'm always the first one called. I'm not used to this, but it was pretty cool. I was given my bus ticket first, which assigned me to seat number 1, which again made me feel privileged. Seat 1 happened to be in the very front of the double-decker bus, which meant that I had a little more room than those behind me, and I had a great view out of the window. I felt like royalty. It was a 14 hour drive, and the bus was more comfortable than an airplane. After watching Yes-Man, they served us dinner, and every hour or so they would hand out something else. Coke. Coffee and cookies. Free champagne or whiskey. Caramels. I shouldn't have had the coffee, because it prevented me from sleeping. I woke up several times at night, and I was freezing, despite my jacket and blanket. After they turned the lights off, I attempted to read some the the Borges story that Marta assigned, but I didn't get very far.

17 Julio

One of the times I woke up marked the beginning of Friday. I had a crick in my next from sleeping in a weird position. Luckily, I had a face mask that enabled me to sleep a few more hours before breakfast around 8 AM. Breakfast was standard: coffee and medialunas, and a roll with some cream spread and dulce de leche. After breakfast, I was glued to the window, looking at the landscapes of Misiones, the province of Argentina wherein lies Iguazú Falls. I had been told by some people that it took 24 hours to get to Iguazú, and then from others I heard 18. At the rate we were going, we would have been there in only 14 hours. But all of the sudden our bus came to a halt. The man sitting next to me and Adam said that there was a manifestación, a protest. The protest lasted almost 2 hours, and there our bus sat. But it gave us an opportunity to stretch our legs and take some pictures. No one on the highway seemed set aback by the delay. The highway seemed to turn into a big party. Several people broke out their mate. The car just in front of ours was filled with some Brazilian men, one of whom sported a giant mate and giant thermos. Marcos explained that that was how Brazilians drink their mate: cold and in big mates, but of course they call it something different.

After being on the road 16 hours, we made it to our hostel, or should I say resort. This hostel was enormous, with a pool, restaurant, bar, and all of the standard hostel commodities. After checking in and throwing my stuff in the room, I got an omelet for lunch. Soon afterward, we all walked to a nearby animal reserve where they take care of sick animals, display healthy ones, and in general do all they can to ensure their survival in the wild. After paying the unexpected entry fee, we were loaded onto a trailer, much like a hayride without the hay. I sat in the front to be sure to get a good view for picture taking. Unfortunately, the rain forest is so dim that unless you and your subject are still, it's difficult to get a good picture. While we waited for the trailer to fill, I decided to begin giving the tour by talking about a nearby humongous stalk of bamboo. I even translated part of my explanation into Spanish. Whether it made sense, I'll never know. Soon afterward, the trailer filled, and two argentinitos squeezed into the bench next to me. Their parents sat behind me. They were very fun to listen to, and I love that kids in other countries are so blind to cultural differences. They treat foreigners just like they would treat anyone else. I eventually asked them their names, Juan and Maite, and their ages, 8 and 4, respectively. They and their parents were visiting from another province in Buenos Aires, Entre Rios, I think. The kids, like most of us rain forest first-timers, expected to see more on this truck ride. Maite kept asking me where all the birds were. I tried to explain, "Tienen miedo." (They're scared.) Soon, though, the truck stopped, and we began walking down a trail with caged animals in them. One of the most fascinating ones was what Marcos called a "muco," which I later learned from Google and Wikipedia is short for "tolomuco," but its English name is "tayra." I don't know why the zoological world can't be more consistent with its animal names by now. Anyway, it looks like a giant ferret. The tamanduas were really cool, too. I was also fascinated by the coati, but that animal would soon become old hat. We enjoyed the monkeys, but they didn't seem to enjoy us, poor things. Animals in the zoo at least don't have their home on the other side of the fence taunting them. At every animal exhibit we passed, we had a tour guide who would say something about each, all in Spanish. I was distracted with taking pictures, so I didn't catch much, unless Juan or Maite asked a clever question, which they did any time the tour guide asked if anyone had a pregunta (question). I wish I could remember more examples, but it's hard to remember things trans-linguistically. After one question of Juan's, though, I remember an old man in the group said in Spanish, "He was raised in the zoo," indicating that Juan had asked a very informed question. Another time, Maite pointed to a blank spot on a map of Misiones and asked what city it was. The two stayed at the front of the group near the tour guide the entire time, and it was fun to hear him try to answer their questions intelligently. While the tour guide was talking, Juan started to shake a large vine on a tree, and the tour guide told him to be careful because the vines are very fragile and we wouldn't want to damage the rain forest. Juan smarted off in his most mature voice, "What about Tarzan?" Kind of irritated by this point but trying not to show it, the tour guide explained in a professional yet sympathetic way, "Well... Tarzan is a myth," and then he struggled to get back to his original topic. The group got a good laugh out of it. After seeing several caged birds and a carpincho(capybara), we rode the truck back to the park entrance and walked back across the street.

Then we waited several minutes to take a bus into the city, Puerto Iguazú, where we would be able to use an ATM and have dinner. Dinner was very good. Complimentary bread was served in leather containers, a very Argentine thing to do. I ordered my first mojito, which I loved (I'm a sucker for mint), and a curry chicken (...and for Indian food). We also celebrated Leo's birthday (21st or 22nd), and he said it was the best birthday he'd had in a long time. The restaurant gave him a free chocolate flan.

After eating, we walked several blocks to a place that overlooked a fork in the river. The view itself wasn't that spectacular, and I asked Marcos, "¿Qué significa este lugar?" He explained that it's the point where 3 countries come together: Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil. That made the view a lot cooler. I was standing in one country and looking into two others. Normally on this trip to Iguazú, we would have been able to go to the Brazil side of Iguazú falls, but thanks to embittered international relations between the U.S. and Brazil, it would have cost each of us estadounidenses over 100 pesos to enter Brazil for only a couple hours. That being said, I doubt the Brazil side of the falls can compare in grandeur to the Argentina side anyway. From the tri-pais area, we took taxis back to our hostel, which apparently after dark becomes a huge party. There were loud music and people enjoying themselves, dancing and pushing each other into the pool against their will. We joined in after a while, and started playing a game of signs, which was really fun. After that, I was pretty pooped, so I pooped the party and went to bed relatively early to everyone else.

18 Julio

I slept really well that night and enjoyed a standard Argentine breakfast Saturday morning which also included frosted flakes. I hadn't seen much cereal since coming to Argentina. Soon after breaking the fast, we took a bus to Iguazú national park, which was a lot more rainforesty than the reserve we visited the day before. I admit, I was disappointed at first that all the trails in this park were paved, but I soon realized that if they weren't, I would have been knee-deep in mud and mire. Despite the pavedness, I was basking in the rain forest atmosphere. Since doing a unit on the rain forest at the academic center in elementary school, I've been in love with it. It was like I'd always seen in pictures, but this time I could hear, smell, and feel it, too. (Sorry, Taste.) The air was nice and humid, but not overwhelmingly so. You could almost smell things growing in the rich soil. Surprisingly, it was mostly silent, except for the sound of rushing water or Alex's voice. When I looked at the ground, I wondered how there weren't a ton of leaves still decomposing from the last winter. And then I remembered that there is no winter in the rain forest. Everything just keeps growing and growing and growing. This means that everything keeps growing on top of other things that are growing. Hence, no tree trunk was bare, if you could even see tree trunks through all of the overgrowth. They were covered in vines, or moss, or mushrooms. It was impossible to see more than a few feet through the mass of green. To top it all off, the green was speckled here and there by brightly colored flowers. Many plants gleamed with the satisfaction of collecting droplets of water. When we made it to a hillside where the trees let us look through, I could see the utter vastness of the rain forest whose green overgrowth spread for kilometers in every direction. On a neighbor hillside, separated by a deep river valley, eagles and other birds of prey lazily flew in circles around a mysterious object of interest, obscured by the forest's canopy and a layer of mist billowing in from a distant waterfall. You might be able to tell from my verbal artistry that in all honesty this rain forest atmosphere was more exciting and breathtaking to me than the falls themselves.

We took the high trail first which allowed us to see into the valley from above: everything was was tiny down below, yet it all somehow worked together to suggest some sort of order. My photos don't quite capture the sense of space, height, width, and breadth of the cliffs, covered with hanging green plants that are perforated by streams of white water, plummeting into the misty below. We saw and walked over waterfall after waterfall, each one just as astounding as the last. When you hear about Iguazú Falls, it truly is several hundred falls that span several kilometers. Then we took the lower trail, which plunged us into the misty below. From down there, everything was enormous, making us feel like single-celled organisms. Instead of order down here, one finds chaos: The trees and plants grow on top of each other, fighting over soil and sunlight. The malcontent water above demands to be united with the churning pools below and cascades over the mountainside. The single stream becomes a mob of droplets, racing and bouncing off one another in a wet frenzy.

After seeing the sights of the low trail, our group split in two. Marcos took one group somewhere else, and my group went even further down the mountainside to the river. We had all bought tickets for 150 pesos for a boat ride around the falls. On my way down the trail, I checked every place my ticket could be and I couldn't find it. 40 dollars, down the drain. When we got to the boat, the people there gave us water-proof bags to put our stuff in that we didn't want to get wet. I took off my pants (I had shorts on underneath), and put them in the main part of my backpack, and there was my ticket. Phew. We got onto one of the boats, and it's hard to make the ride sound really fun, but it was, albeit I was freezing most of the ride. I decided to sit on the side. The boat drove us under one of the waterfalls I described before, and I got completely soaked, then the boat zipped around on the water, which blew cold air onto my freezing wet body. But it also helped dry me off, until, of course, we went under another waterfall. I really did enjoy it though. The view of the cliffs and the rain forest hanging over the cliffs was really spectacular. It occurred to me that I was viewing the same sights that the guaraní and other native tribes had viewed long ago from their canoes.

Eventually we reached land, kilometers down the river from where we started. We were unsure of how we would get back to the rest of the group, but we followed the other wet people up the hill where we found a bathroom that we used to change into dry clothes. Further up the hill, a truck was waiting for us that we (or at least I) didn't know about. On the truck was a female tour guide that pointed out different aspects of the rain forest in both English and Spanish, so I got to hear everything twice. The first tree she pointed out was the palmito, which is used to harvest heart of palm. However, it takes fifteen years for a palmito to mature, and then you have to cut the entire tree down to harvest a single heart of palm. For that reason, palmito is a nationally protected plant. Argentina actually imports its heart of palm from other South American countries that grow different varieties of heart of palm with multiple fruits. The second thing she talked about was the rain forest animals. She explained that the reason you don't see many animals in the rain forest is that most of them are nocturnal. I wish I had known that piece of information to give to Maite the day before. The last thing the guide talked about was a plant called ambay. Ambay is a medicinal plant that can be used for asthma and several other respiratory illnesses. She said that sometimes the park workers will take a leaf and stick it into some hot water for an herbal tea. We drove past a part of the park that had previously been cut down. Now, they were regrowing the rain forest in this area. She explained that ambay was used as a forerunner plant in areas of reforestation, because it fills the soil with nutrients, and its broad leaves protect smaller plants from the hot sun. Needless to say, I'm thoroughly impressed by ambay.

The truck dropped us off at the center of the park where all the restaurants and gift shops are, and we found the rest of our group there finishing up their lunch. I could have spent a bunch of money on lunch in the restaurant, but I wisely went to another building and bought some really good chicken empanadas that had egg in them. After eating, I explored the premises and ran into the tour guide lady and talked to her briefly. She said that she had learned English only through her job. I'm envious of other countries because they seem to have so much more opportunity to learn our language than we do theirs. Possibly to get me away, she pointed out some leaf-cutter ants nearby. It worked. I was fascinated and honored to see them in real life.

Throughout the park, anywhere there were people, there were also coaties, which look like something that climbed out of a Dr. Seuss book. If you are holding a bag to your side, they will come up to you and look in it for food. There are signs up everywhere that say not to feed the coaties, but, of course, people do, causing many of them to get sick and/or overweight. Hopefully humans don't alter their way of life to the extent that they are dependent on us for food.

After relaxing in the center, we headed for la garganta del diablo (devil's throat). I really didn't know what to expect, but the name sure made it sound cool. When we got to the train station, we had the option of either walking on the muddy trail along the tracks or taking the train. I and a few others decided to experience the rain forest by walking through it. One of those other people was Sven from Germany. He took a year off of his education in Germany to study in the United States. He's in no hurry to run through life, and he said he prefers to walk through it to get a richer experience. The concept applied to our situation. Everyone on the train missed out on the details that we saw on the way there. Among them was the bustle of butterflies that flitted all around us. I'm not sure how, but we ended up arriving before several of our own people who took the train to la garganta.

The train dropped everyone off at the entrance of bridge that went over a river to the other side. But, when we walked to the other side, we found that the "other side" was just an island, and there was another equally-wide river to cross. This happened 5, 6, maybe even 9 times before we finally made it to our destination. In the distance, I could see where there was a big hole in the river as if all the of water suddenly fell into a giant pit. And that's exactly what it did. It reminded me of Charybdis from the Odyssey:

Homer, Odyssey 12. 231 ff
"So with much lamenting we rowed on and into the strait; this side lay Scylla; that side, in hideous fashion, fiendish Charybdis sucked the salt water in. When she spewed it forth, she seethed and swirled through all her depths like a cauldron set on a great fire, and overhead the spray fell down on the tops of the two rocks. But when she sucked the sea-water in, one might look right down through the swirling eddy while the rock roared hideously around her and the sea-floor came to view, dark and sandy. Ashy terror seized on the crew. We had looked her way with the fear of death upon us; and at that moment Scylla snatched up from inside my ship the six of my crew who were the strongest of arm and sturdiest."

Lucky for us, there were no cliffs around where a Scylla might perch. The edge of the platform let you look right over the edge of Charyb --la garganta. The water seemed to just fall down into nowhere. The throat created so much mist that you couldn't see the bottom. But the mist also interacted with the sunlight to create rainbows. There were so many people there that it was difficult to find a spot to peer over the edge into the abyss. There were butterflies, here, too, and one of them latched onto my skin and stayed there for over 20 minutes, exploring different tastes, I suppose, with its long, green tongue. Meanwhile, I started talking in Spanish to a girl for whom I took a picture. Communication was difficult because she didn't speak Spanish; she spoke Portuguese. She asked where I was living, and I told her Buenos Aires. She asked if I spoke English, because her English was better than her Spanish, and she was amazed by my flawless English because she had understood me to have said that I was Argentine, which gave us a good laugh. Her name was Bruna, she was from Brazil, and she was simply traveling with a friend. She was also really quirky and quite a talker. She was really excited because she said she never got to use her English. She ended up walking back to the train with part of our group. According to Gill, she said that she could tell who was part of our group because we were all so white.

On the train back, Cambria and I happened to get into the same car, and next to us sat a woman named Holly who had been a missionary with her husband in the province of Chaco for the last several years. She was very interesting to talk to. I wish that I would have asked her more about their ministry, but we ended up talking more about our experiences in Argentina than hers. The train stopped, and our convo was cut short. From the train station we raced to the park entrance where our bus was waiting for us and would leave if we weren't there in time. Sven and a few others decided to walk back again, so our bus left them, and they had to pay for a bus back to the hostel. I guess walking through life isn't always best.

Despite our full day, we had a couple hours to kill before dinner, so after freshening up, Cambria, Bridget, and I played a game of cutthroat (pool). Cambria won against all odds. Dinner was decent. It was Brazilian themed, and we had steak and chicken and all sorts of help-yourself sides, and there were free carapinhas, a sweet Brazilian mixed drink, which I like to call a carapiñada. After dinner there were two traditional Brazilian female dancers, traditionally clad as well. The rest of the show consisted of finding volunteers, voluntary or involuntary, to see who was the most comfortable doing the most uncomfortable dances --and having the most uncomfortable dances done to them. I discovered that my booty-shaking abilities are sub-par, but also that I had any booty-shaking ability at all. After that, they tried to teach us all a Brazilian dance, and then the room broke out into a Conga line. Over all, it was pretty fun. After the show, the nightly hostel party began, and people continued to dance.

After a while, I went inside to see if I could use the computers, but they were down. But there was a girl typing an email on one still. We exchanged a few words before I stuck out my hand for a handshake. She said that she couldn't shake my hand. I assumed that it was because of the swine flu scare, but she explained that she is an orthodox Jew and she's not allowed to touch any man but her husband. I, of course, was fascinated, and asked her more questions which she enjoyed answering. Apparently the U.S. has a Jewish population that rivals that of Israel. The country with the third largest Jewish population is France, followed by Argentina. All of this I learned later on Wikipedia. I was fascinated by all of the traditions that she follows and that she enjoyed following them. She seems to have adopted them as part of her identity, which I can identify with in part. I also asked her what she had to do to go to Heaven, and sadly, she was unsure. She listed off several things that were good to do, but she made it clear to me how works-based Judaism is.

After talking to her, I rejoined the party for a while, then went to bed. Apparently some were going to yet another place to party some more. I didn't know about it, but I probably wouldn't have wanted to stay up for it even if I had.

19 Julio

Sunday morning I immediately packed my things and went to check out. Then I had what breakfast was left and waited for the group to come together. Eventually they did, and we were given the option of going to an Indian site called the Aripuca or chilling on the hostel grounds until we had to leave for lunch in Puerto Iguazú. Most followed Marcos to the Aripuca, but I had to borrow cash from Cambria for admission, because the cost of the boat ride was so unexpectedly high. On the way to the Aripuca along the highway there were some interesting billboards that you can see in my Facebook pics. When we got to the site, we paid and were given a brief tour. "Aripuca" is a certain tribes word for a kind of trap used to catch animals. And the tribe built a giant aripuca out of enormous logs from all different kind of trees, the names of which were carved into each one. Other than that, I'm not too sure if there is really any significance to the Aripuca. OK, got it. Google brought up this web page: http://www.stuffwedo.com/argentina_aripuca_wood_preservation_near_iguazu.htm, which calls it a "wood preservation park" whose purpose is "to increase appreciation of forests and wood in general." Riveting. You should really visit that web page. It's hilarious that the couple is so fascinated by wood. Most of the buildings were gift shops, and I was really upset that I had run out of money. This was my last chance to buy anything from Misiones. Then, I discovered that the gift shop took Visa. Cha-ching.

Instead of walking back on the highway, we took the muddy neighborhood streets, which I enjoyed because I got to see rural Misiones, inhabited by people who seemed to live pretty simple lives. When we returned to the hostel, we grabbed our stuff and while some of the girls and Adam sunbathed, I took some final pictures of all the fruit that was growing around our hostel. It was increíble: avacados, possibly papayas, and some unidentifiable, non-edible tree productions. It reminded me of C. S. Lewis's The Magician's Nephew of The Chronicles of Narnia when Narnia is a new world. In new Narnia, everything grows, even a lamp post, and some gold and silver coins. Misiones soil seemed so fertile that just about anything would grow in it.

After getting our stuff together, we took taxis to the same restaurant where we'd had dinner two nights ago, but the group that got there first thought it would be a good idea to eat outside. When they first got there, the table was mostly shaded, but by the time our food came most of us were sweating in the hot sun. Also, a clumsy waiter spilled two drinks, and at least one of them was a soda, which attracted several bees that buzzed around us while we ate. Me and Adam split a heart of palm pizza, since we'd never had heart of palm. I liked it; it was a lot like artichoke, but Adam wasn't too fond of it. The bus stop was practically next door, and soon after lunch we were on our Omnibus headed back to BA. Before bed we were stopped by border patrol two different times and had to show the officer our passports, which I found strangely similar to US border patrol whenever I went from Mexico through Texas. We also got to watch Meet Joe Black and Changeling, both of which I enjoyed. I had a better view of a television on this trip because Me and Adam were pushed back one row of seats. This go-around I chose a different combination of drinks: wine with my meal, no coffee, and wiskey afterward. It seemed to work because I slept so well on the bus that night that I missed breakfast the next morning.