las impresiones primeras

Just so you know, if I never come back it won't be because I was kidnapped or because I ran off with a handsome porteño or because I got my passport stolen and they wouldn't let me out of the country. It will be because they have about eight different flavors of just chocolate ice cream in every heladería. Swiss, Turkish, mousse, dulce de leche, bittersweet, with fruit... And that's only the chocolate! Glee. Also, you can order it delivered to your house.
Which brings me to my next point: the specialties in food here are beef, pizza, ice cream, and wine. And porteños are absolutely thin and stylish creatures. HOW?

I take the Subte from my family's apartment to the FLACSO building (and presumably everywhere else, for now. The bus system seems labyrinthine - so much so that they don't appear to make maps of it because they would be such tangles). The Subte line I take was the first in South America, and I don't think it's changed much since it was built in 1911. It's creaky and sway-y and wooden (and AWESOME) and they leave all the windows completely open to the tunnel which I seriously doubt they'd do in the States because someone could be stupid and stick their hand out the window. And sue. Although I don't really ride subways there, so I guess I wouldn't know.

Much difficulty communicating. I feel very stupid. I'm used to not being able to speak because I have too many words to choose from and I want the exact right one, so it's really hard having too few and not being able to conjugate on the fly.

My host family are, I'm pretty sure, the nicest people ever. The mother is an excellent cook, the father gave me a mini-tour of the neighborhood, and they keep forcing food on me and are very good at breaking the communication barrier. I also have a host brother who seems very funny, but I haven't seen him much because he has scary medical school finals. (I guess when you have two tests a semester and that's your entire grade, you stress about them).

The weather is beautiful (and really disconcerting - my host family talks about skiing in July and going to beach in January) but a sad consequence: I think I've killed ten mosquitos in the last ten minutes. And the little bastards just keep coming.

I'm definitely starting to get why FLACSO gives us so much orientation time. Going from no classes in February in Montana to this is overwhelming.

In other (and completely unrelated) news, I love this man.

Chao!