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.