It’s been not quite three weeks since my flight touched town about forty-five minutes outside of Buenos Aires at the international airport on a quite frigid and breezy morning. Most every day since arriving I haven’t gone outdoors without a sweater or jacket and the temperature has swung between 1 degree Celsius and 20 (35 and 60 Fahrenheit). This blog is dedicated to everybody I love, to anyone who’s ever wanted to travel, but hasn’t, to those who’ve ever striven to tackle a new language and to Pop. This post will serve as a introduction to some of the characters and settings that I’m certain will become players as this journey unfolds. Thanks for reading!
Home Away from Home, Belgrano in the Federal Capital
Juan is twenty-five and is still figuring everything out in life. I like him very much and I can see we’re becoming friends quickly. He’s begun studies at a private university here, but suspended them in 2008 during the global financial crisis to work. For a time he worked with his father’s insurance brokerage, but currently he’s seeking new work. We have gone on several adventures together already, including a trip last Saturday to the Recoleta Cemetery. The oldest families of the city that played a role in the Independence of 1810 and wealthy families have built ornate mausoleums for their loved ones in Recoleta – all above ground. Eva Perón is buried there. Her grave is strewn with flowers since she remains a popular figure here that could be compared to a hybrid between Jackie O and Eleanor Roosevelt.
Angie is part of the family too! Her real name is Angélica and she has worked for the Fernández’ for twelve years. She is about thirty and is extremely sweet. She’s always smiling or laughing and only puts on a serious face when the situation warrants it. On days when she cleans houses in Buenos Aires she dines and sleeps at our place since she lives over a few hours outside of the city. About a week ago, I went to take passport photos at a shop on the main avenue near the house. I was on a budget, because a careless error had resulted in the loss of my bankcard. I was carefully spending money on loan from the exchange program. I broke a 100 peso note (roughly $25) to pay for a 15 peso order of photo prints. On my return home I inspected the bills and they seemed false to me! I panicked and ran next door to talk to Angie who was cleaning our neighbor’s apartment. Angie proceeded to explain to me in more detail how to identify false from legitimate bills. Fortunately, the bills were good!
La Estancia de San Antonio de Areco
The weekend before classes began the program scheduled a trip to the countryside two hours outside Buenos Aires. The morning that we departed it was raining and cold in the city. I fell asleep on the bus ride and stirred slowly an hour into the drive because the brilliant sun poured from the outside into the bus and woke me. I was thrilled! The sun’s arrival made it feel like a pleasant autumn day instead of winter. Our group divided for the day and we toured the quaint town and visited a museum where an Argentine artists’ sketches and paintings are kept. He’s known for depicting the life of gauchos making them look both dignified and absurd at the same time.
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| Brian and Sarah! |
This evening I dined with a group of friends that truly enjoys speaking in Spanish! Too many of the students succumb to the temptation to speak English together. After dinner a DJ began playing music and the owners of the estancia (a husband and wife of about sixty years old) began to dance with us and the wait staff. My friend Jenna from Hope College was swept aside by a young camarero (waiter) who proceeded to teach her Tango’s basic step, while the owners danced with us young students and encouraged and instigated dancing and merriment. It was an enjoyable night!
In the morning we rose and I played fútbol (soccer) at the estancia and enjoyed the sunny day outdoors. Before having asado (barbequed or grilled beef) for lunch we drank maté – a traditional herbal beverage of South America. It’s grown in the north of the country and sold ground into green smithereens, much like tea. The yerba (herb) is put in a calabasa (gourd) and hot water is added. How do you drink it without swallowing the bitter smithereens? There’s a metal ‘straw’ called the bombilla that that filters the chunks of yerba out of the beverage. It’s high in caffeine and walking anywhere morning or afternoon you can spot people in groups outside sharing a maté. People seldom drink it alone here because it’s appropriate to serve it to one’s friends and share. This has been one of my favorite aspects of Andean culture so far!
After our delicious lunch we proceeded outside as the sun was setting in the country. The sky was turning gold as the gauchos began to demonstrate their incredible horsemanship. One of my favorite events was a three versus three game that reminded me of polo and quidditch: there was a sphere with handles all over it that the gauchos passed to one another on horseback and had to score a goal by throwing it through a ten foot high ring.
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| Gaucho in Areco playing ball on horseback |
My First Day of Class – back to the Urban Grind
The life style of porteños (those that live in Buenos Aires) is to leave the house in the morning and not return until as late as 8 p.m. My Monday this week is probably a good indicator of what the life of an Argentine resembles. I rose before the sun, dressed, ate, grabbed my keys and trudged off down the street towards my subte (subway) stop on Avenida Congreso de Tucumán. This stop is the last on the D line in the city, which is northwest of the heart of town. Fortunately, I managed to find a seat and as we rumbled down the tracks the train filled COMPPLETELY with commuters like me. About a half-hour later I hopped off the train near my destination. With a bit of blind luck and passable map reading I found the Dirreción de Nacional Migraciones where I needed to complete my student visa process. Many other students that are studying with my program had arrived too. I was amazed by how many of them became exasperated so quickly with the lines and the bureaucracy and became so flustered that the Argentine government workers began to speak in English to them. It seemed pretty straight-forward to me and I did my best to continue using my Spanish with them. I now have a student visa that permits me to travel within South America with the status of an Argentine citizen with respect to customs fees for visiting countries like Uruguay (just north across the Rio de la Plata from the city).
Next stop was the program’s headquarters to get a Fed-Ex package containing my replacement credit cards, which are fortunately functioning well. More on that below. After lunch I went with other students to an orientation session at a human rights NGO called Madres de la Plaza. It is possible that as a part of a Learning and Service seminar I am taking that I’ll volunteer with this grassroots group of mothers (and now grandmothers) of many victims of the military dictatorship that ruled in Argentina for some time in the late 70s and early 80s. The victims are called los desaparecidos and the organization is dedicated to seeking justice and honesty about the unlawful capture and murder of many of the state’s political enemies. The government is still withholding documents that have reports of which army or navy personnel were responsible for deaths of particular desaparecidos. This could be a very, very fascinating part of Argentina’s past to study and work in. It is extremely timely too, because though the crimes have come and gone, other regimes like those in Venezuela and Cuba are still societies with repressed political rights.
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| The Obelisk in the center of the famously wide Avenida 9 de Julio |
After the meeting, I decided to dash down the street to use a new subte line to arrive in an unvisited part of the city where la Universidad de Buenos Aires is located. The old line A has old trains that are furnished with wood and manually opening doors. The lights also flicker out sometimes. It all makes for a ride with a lot of character! I was on my way to the most socialist and activist department of la UBA (as they call the public university here) – la facultad de Philosophy and Literature. This building holds classes that fall within the realm of history, anthropology, philosophy and literature among a few others. Like many other buildings in BA, its outside walls are decorated with both graffiti and national flags and events advertising the anniversary of the death of the famous Marxist, Leon Trotsky. Upon entering the building, I was reminded of scenes from my nightmares set in school.
You know, the sort of dream where you’ve woken up late and just realized that today’s your first day in a brand new school district and you’re wearing that goofy sweater and drawing attention. That’s how I felt walking in. Everybody was handing out political leaflets, there were coffee stands and scores of very eclectic Argentines (and exchange students) smoking cigarettes. I even faintly smelled marijuana…Yes, you read that perfectly correct! Everybody smokes (cigarettes) in BA, I knew that, but inside? Okay. There were so many posters and banners hung on the doors and walls that I had trouble finding the classroom numbers, but at last arrived in 129. The class filled slowly with students of all ages and about thirty minutes late the professor of my Intro to Human Rights seminar arrived. He was a round and jolly man and I was relieved to realize I didn’t have trouble understanding him. One thing I really appreciated was his genuine interest in hearing from all the students in the room and learning their name and where they were from.
With my friends Brian, Jaime (a classmate who lives in my barrio/neighborhood) and Claire (a student from Denver we met that day) I headed back to the subte as night had fallen on the city by 7 p.m. Claire and I took the subte all the way to la Universidad Católica where we each had a night class. Somehow, we found our classrooms. The student body at la UCA is more affluent since UCA is private, whereas la UBA is free for citizens. The students wear brand name clothes, nice shoes and are more homogenous in age: 18-29 almost without exception. Yet, at la UBA and la UCA there were outliers and a few students were easily over 45. In Argentina students take longer completing their degrees since most work and study. In the way of further comparison between UBA and UCA, the following scene would never happen in a private university like UCA: a young poet dropped in during lecture at la UBA, asked the professor if he could distribute his poem and proceeded to hand out a small leaflet with one of his poems about Big Brother on it. Then people handed him change and he went on his way and class continued.
After my last class, I waited at the bus stop and reached home at 11:30 after a 30 minute commute to find dinner ready for me on the table: fish and pureed potatoes. I went straight to bed after the last bite. Almost 16 hours out and on the go!
Loose Ends
Funny thing about using my bank card for the first time: at about 2:00 I had to try FOUR different machines throughout my neighborhood before I found one that wasn’t out of cash. The district we live in is very commercial and ranges from lower middle class to more affluent residents. For most banks at this hour there was a line at least 10 deep to do a transaction. Out on the street in Buenos Aires the people keep to themselves, but in line or closer proximity (with the exception of packed subte trains) they love to complain and comment together. Today many of us were all sharing in frustration of empty ATM machines.
My Spanish is getting better every day and I’ve made a point of making companions of those that actually want to use it 24/7. We’ve heard it’s the polite thing for an Argentine to ask someone who’s not a native speaker if they’re Brazilian. However, there are some things that make me stick out no matter how well I manage with castellano (Spanish). First off, most of the guys here all wear fashionable sneakers – more down the alley of what Neal likes to wear i.e. Converse or velcro types. I have tennis shoes and leather loafers. Second, my black coat that has the North Face logo emblazoned above the heart is really only worn by gringos. Lastly, my blue eyes and clean-shaven face. Though the folks here are descendents of Europeans it seems like the genetic alleles that correspond with blue eyes are much more rare. Men keep their head and facial hair gracefully unkempt.
Here are some fascinating stats on the cost of commodities and services here in Argentina. Keep in mind that the exchange rate is almost 4 pesos to 1 dollar.
One liter of gas: four pesos (or almost $4 per gallon)
Street vended pork sandwich: 7 pesos
Coffee with two medialunas (croissants): 8.50 pesos
Lunch at a restaurant with table service: 25-30 pesos
Liter of wine or beer at a bar: 15-20 pesos
Liter of beer in the super-market: 4 pesos (if you return a used glass bottle)
Subte ride: 1.10 pesos ($0.30!)
Colectivo ride (bus system): 1.25 pesos
*The state heavily subsidizes mass transit, which includes the subte and colectivos.
Buenos Aires reminds me very much of Paris and in fact, much of its architecture is a cousin of French buildings. However, no where else does the influence seem as apparent as with the parks throughout the city that were designed by Charles Thays (a French architect – turned Argentine) with beautiful paths, green space, trees, statues, benches and of course lakes and lampposts. On some blocks there’s a completely contemporary apartment complex right next to a Spanish styled ranch home that is not nearly as tall. On the same block you’ll see well-lit advertisements for cell phones, banks or theaters beside old-school posters that are applied to the walls with poster-paste.
It seems at long last, I’m reaching a point where I’ll have a routine: four or five classes (hopefully four!), volunteer work, soccer and or Frisbee pickup games and a plethora of opportunities for short or long explorations. My adjustment has been frustrating at times, but I continue to live under a rainbow and all my small quilombos (slang for idiotic disasters) have been resolved by helpful new friends. It’s been most helpful that Juan and Anahí have been extremely affectionate and appreciate wit and sarcasm. I look forward to seeing them when I reach home each day!
One final piece of good news before I sign off. I received an email the weekend before my first week of class from the State Department. My application to work as an intern for the Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor was selected from the pool as a first alternate for the position this spring! I applied this summer because I wanted to learn how the Department’s system worked and try to get my foot in the door. As soon as I heard I yelled out loud, ran into the living room of our apartment and explained in Spanish to Juan José why I was so thrilled.
I expect future posts to be shorter and more succinct. Hopefully with a bit more plot, intrigue and catharsis, sound good? Until then, make a peanut butter sandwich and wolf it down for me. I miss them!
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| View of Plaza de Mayo from la Casa Rosada (President's Kirchener's office) |
