Tres Noches Ricas en Experiencias

13 Julio

Last Monday after having Spanish class with Marta, us five students strolled down to Freddo (again), so that Cambria could spend some time with her significant other. There was also supposed to be a "BOGO free" promotion going on every Monday. Unfortunately you have to be a socio (club member) to get the deal. All the girls filled out cards to become members of the Freddo club, but I didn't think it was vale la pena (worth it). I just bought some sambayon ice cream in a cone instead. In case you don't remember, this is the ice cream I got in Colonia, Uruguay that tastes like wine. And boy did this one ever. It was the strongest sambayon I've had here.

Después, Cambria and I walked to her apartment where we talked and read until it was time to meet up with Scott who I met online (weird, I know) and his friend Sarah. While I read, Cambria ate her dinner: chicken with a potato-egg-spinach mixture that was amazing. We were going to a place that I assumed had food, so I ate a little of Mbr's food, and then waited. I had asked Scott beforehand if he had any distinguishing features, and he humorously said, "Well, I don't have black hair." This information, in fact, is very distinguishing in BA, and I found them without much trouble. We ended up walking a lot further than we originally expected because Scott wasn't exactly sure where he was going, but I didn't mind because it gave me and Cambria a chance to get to know them better. They are both from England. Scott has one Argentine parent and one English parent, and he has lived here for about a year because he's working for some company (with computers, I think) that he doesn't really seem to enjoy. Sarah is here studying Spanish. The entire evening was filled with fun conversation. Cambria and I got to hear how British people view the world, their speech sprinkled with characteristically British adjectives like "posh" and "dodgy." We finally made it to the bar Scott had in mind, one with darts, pool tables, etc., but it was closed. We soon found out that just about everything is closed in BA on Monday nights. We walked to another bar, but it was closed, too, so we decided to get some café and alfajores at a nearby Havanna. By this time I was starving, so I bought some alfajores and asked Mbr to order some coffee for me, and I dashed outside to find something quick and easy to eat. I actually had to walk about three blocks before I found anything: it was a grocery store that had pre-made food in it, and all of it looked really good. I kept it simple [stupid], and got some empanadas de pollo. Empanadas are extremely popular here to have as a snack or a meal, and decently tasty, too. When I got back to Havanna, the security guard, almost didn't let me in, but I indicated that I had coffee waiting on me. Apparently, even Havanna closes early on Mondays. It was only 9:00, which is dinnertime for most porteños. While I was gone, Scott had been talking on his phone to his girlfriend who had a crisis. She had met up for a friendly cup of joe with a Canadian guy, and he ended up aggressively coming on to her. She's a native Argentine, and she was really shaken up about it. After we left Havanna, we decided to take a taxi to Plaza Sorano in Palermo where bars are always open. We went to one called Tazz where we just chilled and talked. While eating, a man came by and sold us some plays that he had written; one of them is a dialogue between God and a scientist. I'm looking forward to reading it one day. We continued talking; I don't really remember about what, but I enjoyed it. At the end of the day, I was happy to be able to just chill and make new friends. It's interesting, though, that I'm learning so much about non-Latin American cultures while I'm here.

14 Julio

Tuesday morning I switched up my daily routine a bit by going to Expanish before class. Word has it that Adam goes there every morning, so I thought I'd join him. Expanish also has free coffee, mate, and cookies, which is a pro. Bridget happened to be at Expanish, too, and soon after I arrived, we headed out on foot through the treacherous city streets to our classroom. We still had thirty minutes to kill before class, though, so I went to a restaurant suggested by Bridget and bought some scrumptious arroz con pollo (chicken and rice, but much better). But, the restaurant forgot to give me a fork. By the time we got the the classroom, it was time to begin class, so I let my food sit. I smelled it for two hours as it taunted me. Luckily, Alex had a fork in her purse, but as soon as I stuck it into the chicken, its plastic tongs broke off into the meat. 'Tonces, I had to settle for Alex's spork, which was much more durable.

On the day that we started having class in this dormitory building, Marcelo gave us a tour. When we came to the study room that we have to go through to get to the bathroom, there were a couple guys in there talking despite the signs on the door that prohibit such tomfoolery. So, I told them "shhh..." which they got a kick out of. Now when I pass Santiago (one of those students), he always tells me "shhh...."

Any four-hour-long class is difficult to sit through, but Carlos makes it extremely difficult. The subject matter is really difficult, and Carlos speaks really fast and unintentionally slurs words together. He also uses words that are packed with meaning; at one point he said endiosamiento, which, I pieced together from context and my prefix and suffix knowledge, means something like deification. I think I've mentioned, too, how when we ask what something means, instead of giving us a translation or simple explanation, he gives us a drawn-out example, which necessitates the use of more big words we are not familiar with. Furthermore, the man is not very tactful to his students who are having trouble following him. On this day, he used many words in order to help us arrive at the English word "bobblehead," which he used to describe Adam. I was insulted for him.

After class, I went straight home and fiddled around until dinner. This night, we were having polenta, a very interesting -and surprisingly good- dish. I feel like my home stay has definitely done a good job of introducing me to traditional Argentine dishes. To me, polenta resembles a thick cream of wheat, but it's made from cornmeal, like porridge or something. On top of the porridge, we put a salsa (any sauce here is called salsa) that was a lot like tomato soup. The soup also had some pork in it. It was really good, and it filled me up. According to Alejandra, it's a dish that poor people make a lot, probably without the meat. Sounds like a good college food. I might have to get a recipe before I go.

Then I went to the milonga where Alejandra had taken me and the Serpicos before. I met Cambria, Bridget, and Alex there, and I met some of Alex's friend whom she knew from dancing and "couchserfing," which is a network of people who let people stay at each other's houses when traveling. Gill (prounounce "Jill," short for Gillian) was also there, and I would later get to know her better on our trip to Iguazú. It was salsa night, so we watched them dance. We arrived so late that we didn't have to pay to get it, but on the downside, it was over pretty fast, and we all went home. One of Alex's friends that I met was a porteño named Rodolfo. He helped me find the colectivo I needed to get home, his also. We talked while we waited. He is a journalist who speaks English perfectly, and he said that he would check out my blog. Si estás leyendo esto, Rodolfo, ¿Qué tal? On the bus, we got to talking about religion because he used to work for a Catholic publication, or something like that. He said, "I don't know your religion," referring to Baptists. He asked what they were like, and I said "Protestants." He asked what we didn't believe, which forced me to look at my faith from a different angle. After much thought, I said the sacraments, Mary, images, and purgatory, to which he responded, "So there's only heaven or hell." He said in that case, he's going to hell. I said, "Well, that's another difference: we believe that it's not about what you do, it's about what you believe about Jesus that gets you into Heaven." He said that he likes that, and in that case he's going to Heaven. We had a comedic moment when he realized that I might have been worried for his salvation. Also within our conversation, I mentioned to him how difficult it had been to meet locals, so he gave me his phone number and said maybe he could show me around the city sometime during the day. Hopefully we can do that before I go. Adam is interested in doing so, too.

15 Julio

Wednesday I woke up earlier than usual and I eventually made it to Expanish where I was meeting Adam. But, alas, I didn't have any coins, so I had to buy some snacks from a kiosco to be able to get there. At the time, it was really frustrating. At 11:00 Adam, Leo, and I met up with none other than one of my Spanish professors from OBU, Dra. Litherland in the Shopping Galeria Pacifica off of Avenida Florida. She is from Bahia Blanca, a city about 5 hours south of BA, and she had been visiting family there, and then her brother in Cordoba. Her flight was leaving from Ezeiza later that afternoon. Lunch was delightful, not so much the food (I got some Chinese food that was OK) but being able to catch up with a familiar face. Dra. Litherland was extremely interested in everything that we had been doing. I've been reminded that conversation is one of the most enjoyable things to do in life, especially if coffee, mate, or even a temperate amount of alcohol is involved. This time it was coffee.

Soon we took off to our classroom. On the way, Adam and I got solicited to by a man asking for donations; we stopped and talked to him for a while, and I ended up giving his a couple pesos, but now I don't even remember what the cause was. I confessed to Adam how much I wanted to kick a pidgeon. The things are everywhere, they come right up to your feet, and the really fat ones are about the size of a football. So one day I just might do it. Class went well. Marta's class is always more like an extended conversation than an actual class. We have sentences to write, but more than not, the sentence that we write turn into conversation topics. Then I went home and decided that it was the day I would finally sew up my torn laptop case. I would need it for my trip to Iguazú the next day. Sew, I did, slowly but surely. Alejandra asked me how I learned to sew, and I told her that I figured it out myself, through trial and error. I can't do anything fancy, of course, but I can make things stick together with needle pulling thread.

Later, I walked to Abasto where the group tango lessons are held, led by a woman named Giselle. As soon as I got there I tried to meet people. I didn't really want to be all up in the business of women I didn't know at all. There were about 7 girls and 4 or 5 guys, and everyone was at a different level of experience, but most were new. Among them was Arlene and Edward, two more people whom I would later get to know better on our trip to Iguazú. In an hour and a half, I learned three basic tango steps, but learning them took a toll on me. I had a slight headache and a tense back. I never knew that dancing would be so difficult. Apparently, the man is under a lot of pressure. I must have the rhythm down (not my strong point). I must have the steps down. I must listen to the music and follow it. I must tell the woman what I want her to do. I must be decisive about what I want to do. And I must be creative enough to pull it all together into something that resembles art. So, things were not looking good between me and tango. I walked home, tired, had dinner, and went to bed.