Well hello there! I'm not good about these types of things, but I will try and post regularly. Here are just a few thoughts of Buenos Aires so far. This definitely does not summarize my experience, but I didn't feel like repeating the same (now boring) stories about my home-stay, etc. For the record, everything is just dandy!
There are a lot of things about this city that I find hilarious and wonderful. For example, the napkins.
They don't know how to make paper products here. The napkins are made of plastic and/or wax paper. They smear rather than absorb and are also no bigger than a post-it. The tissues and toilet paper aren't much better. Maybe Americans are just messier than Porteños -- I'd believe it.
I was also surprised by how many dogs there are in this city. Most are owned but a good amount are also strays. They all seem well-fed, though, and they are all incredibly well trained. I'm pretty sure I stand out as a tourist by swooning over every dog I see. It also takes longer to get anywhere with me, because I stop every five minutes to go "Aww, puppy!!"
I mentioned that I hadn't seen as many attractive porteños as I thought I would, and my friend curtly reminded me that I spend too much time looking at animals to pay attention to the men. Oops. It's definitely true, though...I'm blissfully unaware. You have to be, though, because here if you make eye-contact with a guy, that basically means you want to (or at least would) have sex with him. Who knew? I'm not just talking about a deep, penetrating gaze, either. A casual glance can mean, "Yes, I want you to use a lame pick-up line on me." Last night these men used the exact same line on us twice. At different times. In the same location. Could they honestly have forgotten?
Sometimes the men trick you here. You think they are attractive, and then they turn around and you see their rat-tail, their ONE dreadlock, their four or five dreadlocks...you name it, they have it. I want to bring around scissors with me and just start snipping these things off. I really can't imagine who led these men to believe this was a good look. I might be too nice sometimes, but I would never go so far as to compliment a single, SIDE dreadlock on a man's head. Don't worry too much, though. There is plenty of eye-candy to go around. You just have to check the hair first.
I saw a vampire last night. No joke. Either they exist and he was one, or he truly believes he is. (I'm sure you know which theory I believe). This guy wore all black, including a black trench coat, had slicked-back black hair, a goatee of sorts, and the craziest eyes I have ever seen. He looked like he was trying to hypnotize us by hiding his irises...that's the only way I can explain it. It was intense -- trust me. Don't worry, though. I wasn't attracted to this particular vampire. A little too sleazy/serial killer-esq for my taste. Besides, where was the bleached-blonde hair and fake British accent?
I think I'll end on that note. Fitting, right? I will try to update more often now that I'm more settled here. We'll see if anyone reads...
Chao!
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
helter skelter, paso a paso
I've experienced some typical Argentine stuff in the past few days. Most of it has been food-related: mate, which is a kind of tea, drunk in a very specific manner. Kind of bitter and green-tasting. I think it's an acquired taste. Decidedly not so: a submarino, which is basically hot (sometimes foamy) milk with a chocolate bar sunk into the middle. With medialunas, which are like croissants, for dipping in. Oh boy. I drooled over that almost as much as I've been drooling over the shoes in the shop windows. Thigh-high snakeskin boots with five-inch stiletto heels, anyone?
Various (somewhat dubious) meats from the asado (barbecue, basically - I'll stop translating things now). Including blood sausage and grilled intestines, neither of which were actually bad but I didn't quite enjoy anyway. Ugh.
Pizza with mozzarella and onions, empanadas, these marvelous cookie things called alfajores, and mountains of dulce de leche. MOUNTAINS. I'm starting to crave vegetables.
I also went to a milonga, which is a tango dance. Only watched, but it was very exciting anyway. Tango is impossibly sexy when done right, and the place it was at was sort of indescribably perfect - this huge dark, smoky, humid space with moody lighting, framed paintings, and a giant red ventricular heart/deflated parachute/wire sculpture hanging from the ceiling over the bar. Oh, and a live band (with an accordion!) at one point. The only US music I heard all night was Ob-La-Di, and that I can't complain about. I'll have to go back and take some pictures. And lessons, por cierto.
Two important words to know when taking the Subte: permiso (excuse me) and perdón (sorry). Rush hour was frightening the first time I witnessed it: people jam themselves into subte cars so tightly that their shirts end up caught in the doors for the whole ride, and you have to make sure you wade over to the door at least a stop ahead or you won't be able to get through the crush in time.
Also, yesterday was a FLACSO overnight trip to Tigre, a delta zone outside the city in Buenos Aires province. I finally got to know some of my fellow Flacsitos. It's been nice to be able to say things more complicated than "It's hot!," or "Can you repeat that?" for a whole day.
Tigre was beautiful, and probably better explained in pictures when I get around to uploading them.
Classes begin on Monday; more reportage presently.
Chao!
Various (somewhat dubious) meats from the asado (barbecue, basically - I'll stop translating things now). Including blood sausage and grilled intestines, neither of which were actually bad but I didn't quite enjoy anyway. Ugh.
Pizza with mozzarella and onions, empanadas, these marvelous cookie things called alfajores, and mountains of dulce de leche. MOUNTAINS. I'm starting to crave vegetables.
I also went to a milonga, which is a tango dance. Only watched, but it was very exciting anyway. Tango is impossibly sexy when done right, and the place it was at was sort of indescribably perfect - this huge dark, smoky, humid space with moody lighting, framed paintings, and a giant red ventricular heart/deflated parachute/wire sculpture hanging from the ceiling over the bar. Oh, and a live band (with an accordion!) at one point. The only US music I heard all night was Ob-La-Di, and that I can't complain about. I'll have to go back and take some pictures. And lessons, por cierto.
Two important words to know when taking the Subte: permiso (excuse me) and perdón (sorry). Rush hour was frightening the first time I witnessed it: people jam themselves into subte cars so tightly that their shirts end up caught in the doors for the whole ride, and you have to make sure you wade over to the door at least a stop ahead or you won't be able to get through the crush in time.
Also, yesterday was a FLACSO overnight trip to Tigre, a delta zone outside the city in Buenos Aires province. I finally got to know some of my fellow Flacsitos. It's been nice to be able to say things more complicated than "It's hot!," or "Can you repeat that?" for a whole day.
Tigre was beautiful, and probably better explained in pictures when I get around to uploading them.
Classes begin on Monday; more reportage presently.
Chao!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
gracias buenos dias bocadillo
I went to Spain. I totally learned Spanish (see above).
I went with a few of my friends here (Kirill, Aaron, Dan) and met up with others in Madrid, both from France (Andy, Rhiannon, Lizzie, Allie) and from Spain (Dana, Ellen, Meredith). Chances are good that, unless you are one of those people or me, you will not know all those names. That's fine, I don't really care.
First off, I actually put pictures on Facebook, so you should check those out.
Ok, first was a 7 hour train ride to Toulouse, which turned into an epic eating party, with some card games and singing and ridiculousness thrown in.
Kirill bought a huge bag of food. I mean HUGE. He included raw eggs (on his behalf, he meant to cook them that morning, and when he couldn't, he decided to bring them to cook in Barcelona. They didn't make it that far). I decided that I really like traveling on trains. Can really figure out why, but I do.
We got to Barcelona that night, and had paella for dinner (definitely the thing to get in Spain).
It's really yummy, though I still can't get over the food looking back at you (they don't peel the shrimps for you ahead of time).
Las Ramblas is a giant open-air market that we went to the next day that had EVERYTHING.
Seriously. Anything you could want to eat, it had it. Chocolate, fruit, fresh eggs, meat, seafood (the lobsters were still alive, which freaked Kirill out like nothing else).
We made a game of pickpocketing Kirill. We succeeded way too often than we should have, haha.
Gelato is yummy, even in Spain.
A few things to know about nightlife in Spain (especially in Barcelona). It doesn't really start until around 2am. The clubs don't even open until 1am. It makes sense when you realize that the normal time to eat dinner is around 10pm. Another thing is that when people walk around handing out flyers, it's a good thing. They actually give you good deals, like free mojitos (yes, actually. Andy and I got some when we were walking around). Also, a lot of Spanish people understand English, but no one understands French. This means that, if I wanted someone to leave me alone, I would say "Pardon, je suis une fenetre" which means "Sorry, I am a window", but of course, they didn't know that :D
I went with a few of my friends here (Kirill, Aaron, Dan) and met up with others in Madrid, both from France (Andy, Rhiannon, Lizzie, Allie) and from Spain (Dana, Ellen, Meredith). Chances are good that, unless you are one of those people or me, you will not know all those names. That's fine, I don't really care.
First off, I actually put pictures on Facebook, so you should check those out.
Ok, first was a 7 hour train ride to Toulouse, which turned into an epic eating party, with some card games and singing and ridiculousness thrown in.
Kirill bought a huge bag of food. I mean HUGE. He included raw eggs (on his behalf, he meant to cook them that morning, and when he couldn't, he decided to bring them to cook in Barcelona. They didn't make it that far). I decided that I really like traveling on trains. Can really figure out why, but I do.We got to Barcelona that night, and had paella for dinner (definitely the thing to get in Spain).
It's really yummy, though I still can't get over the food looking back at you (they don't peel the shrimps for you ahead of time).Las Ramblas is a giant open-air market that we went to the next day that had EVERYTHING.
Seriously. Anything you could want to eat, it had it. Chocolate, fruit, fresh eggs, meat, seafood (the lobsters were still alive, which freaked Kirill out like nothing else).We made a game of pickpocketing Kirill. We succeeded way too often than we should have, haha.
Gelato is yummy, even in Spain.
A few things to know about nightlife in Spain (especially in Barcelona). It doesn't really start until around 2am. The clubs don't even open until 1am. It makes sense when you realize that the normal time to eat dinner is around 10pm. Another thing is that when people walk around handing out flyers, it's a good thing. They actually give you good deals, like free mojitos (yes, actually. Andy and I got some when we were walking around). Also, a lot of Spanish people understand English, but no one understands French. This means that, if I wanted someone to leave me alone, I would say "Pardon, je suis une fenetre" which means "Sorry, I am a window", but of course, they didn't know that :D
Friday, March 5, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
hola por la primera vez!
I can see half of Buenos Aires from my window. My balcony window, in the middle of town. *is smug*
I am uber-fucking-excited. (Can I use that word? There aren't any Small Cousins reading, right?)
I am also ridiculously tired, as I was traveling for about 24 hours straight. I almost missed my last (12-hour) flight, too - had to sprint across the Atlanta airport and beg the captain, along with five other late passengers, to put the ramp back up to the plane so we could get on. And he did, thank goodness.
Drivers here do not seem to put much stock by lane lines. It seems to be more of a 'hmm, if I go halfway onto the shoulder, almost knock over that scooter, and put on a sudden and alarming burst of speed I can probably squeeze past that taxi' kind of a deal. Who's excited?
Right. So, instead of going on about everything I think I know about BA, or whinging about my terrible luck in catching strep (Okay, I'll do a little of that. I couldn't swallow for five days, for Pete's sake. Or think straight, 'cos my temperature was over 101 for most of that time, too. Oh boy) - anyway (sorry, did anyone expect coherence?) - anyway - I'll just say YAY I'M HERE and go for a nap.
I think I'm going to post a lot of nonsense here. But that's okay; if anyone objects they can ignore my posts and go read about Parisian chocolate instead.
I am uber-fucking-excited. (Can I use that word? There aren't any Small Cousins reading, right?)
I am also ridiculously tired, as I was traveling for about 24 hours straight. I almost missed my last (12-hour) flight, too - had to sprint across the Atlanta airport and beg the captain, along with five other late passengers, to put the ramp back up to the plane so we could get on. And he did, thank goodness.
Drivers here do not seem to put much stock by lane lines. It seems to be more of a 'hmm, if I go halfway onto the shoulder, almost knock over that scooter, and put on a sudden and alarming burst of speed I can probably squeeze past that taxi' kind of a deal. Who's excited?
Right. So, instead of going on about everything I think I know about BA, or whinging about my terrible luck in catching strep (Okay, I'll do a little of that. I couldn't swallow for five days, for Pete's sake. Or think straight, 'cos my temperature was over 101 for most of that time, too. Oh boy) - anyway (sorry, did anyone expect coherence?) - anyway - I'll just say YAY I'M HERE and go for a nap.
I think I'm going to post a lot of nonsense here. But that's okay; if anyone objects they can ignore my posts and go read about Parisian chocolate instead.
Friday, February 19, 2010
*flop*
This past week, my mom and sister were here visiting. It was really nice, and we did SO much. Museums up the wazoo. Mum gets like that - when she has a plan to do stuff, she does it. I'm very proud of them. It was really intense for me especially, though, because I was being a tourist with them, as well as their tour guide and translator, plus continuing to be a student, and hopefully enjoy it all too. Hence the title of this post - I was ready to fall into bed at every moment.
My favorite part of their trip , stuff-wise (as in, having them here was the best part) was Tuesday, when we went to Versailles for the day. It also just happened to be the only day I have seen in Paris yet that didn't have a cloud in the sky. Not. One. Single. Cloud. Not even a wisp. Just a clear blue as far as the eye can see.
The chateau of Versailles is ridiculous. Absolutely nuts. Each room was worth approximately four hundred gajillion dollars (you don't even want to know what that is in Euros). Even the simplest room that we walked through had a mural on the ceiling. There was one room with velvet walls!! All the beds that we saw (and there were WAY more fancy beds than there had been fancy people living there) were ostentatiously ornate, three or four feet high mattresses with huge canopies and feathery plumes at the corners. Also, gold was everywhere. Everything was gilded. No wonder the people hated them - they were starving while Marie Antoinette and her elite posse decided to have yet another portrait taken of them to put in the new room that they had just built. Who doesn't need a seventh study in the East Wing of a chateau?
Other than that, Sainte Chapelle was unnecessarily closed every day, Mom's French started coming back, and Bertillon's (ice cream) was as heavenly as ever.
My favorite part of their trip , stuff-wise (as in, having them here was the best part) was Tuesday, when we went to Versailles for the day. It also just happened to be the only day I have seen in Paris yet that didn't have a cloud in the sky. Not. One. Single. Cloud. Not even a wisp. Just a clear blue as far as the eye can see.
The chateau of Versailles is ridiculous. Absolutely nuts. Each room was worth approximately four hundred gajillion dollars (you don't even want to know what that is in Euros). Even the simplest room that we walked through had a mural on the ceiling. There was one room with velvet walls!! All the beds that we saw (and there were WAY more fancy beds than there had been fancy people living there) were ostentatiously ornate, three or four feet high mattresses with huge canopies and feathery plumes at the corners. Also, gold was everywhere. Everything was gilded. No wonder the people hated them - they were starving while Marie Antoinette and her elite posse decided to have yet another portrait taken of them to put in the new room that they had just built. Who doesn't need a seventh study in the East Wing of a chateau?
Other than that, Sainte Chapelle was unnecessarily closed every day, Mom's French started coming back, and Bertillon's (ice cream) was as heavenly as ever.
Monday, February 8, 2010
I'm legal!
Sorry it's been a while - my life was picked up and spun around by a cyclone of awesomeness starting about two weeks ago or so.
So, as the title suggests, I have since had my 21st birthday! (Shoutout thanks to ADP for the fantastic surprise birthday skype) It was great. Thursday, a bunch of friends took me out to an Indian place, and we all shared 5 curries/saags/yumminesses and a ton of rice. Then we got crepes for dessert (Rhiannon and Becky got seconds, hehe), when I remembered that the best crepe is nutella and banana slices. I think I already mentioned this in another post, but it merits being mentioned multiple times.
Friday, Andy and I saw Mr. Nobody, which I highly recommend, as long as you don't mind needing to watch it about 7 times before you understand it. It's kind of a mix of The Matrix and Sliding Doors. After that, we went to a party of some American girls who are in the same program as Kirill, who is Aaron's Russian friend from the high school era (remember that time?). We're big on having random, far-reaching connections here. It was great, their apartment was 3 stories for 3 people, with incredibly high ceilings and a bubble staircase (the railing was metal circles of different sizes attached together). SO cool. We met new people (the first ones I met were a British girl and a Finnish dude), and chatted about being in France. Yael and I barely caught the last metro, and got home around 2am.
Saturday (yeah, I decided to have an entire birthday weekend, to compensate for the fact that turning 21 is not nearly as big of a deal in France as in the United States), Andy and Kirill and I watched The Princess and The Frog (fun french word of the day: frog = grenouille. Another fun french fact: "to have a frog in your throat" is "avoir un chat dans la gorge"; literally "to have a cat in the throat") (and yes, this is the new Disney movie...), then met up with people and went to have dinner in the latin quarter. The rue that Kirill knew of was stuffed with restaurants, with people enticing customers in with deals and freebies. The place we ended up going to was an Italian place, with an appetizer (calamari for me), main course ("individual" pizza that I could only eat half of) and a dessert (apple tart) for 9 euros. REALLY good deal, and decent food - I liked the pizza, and the veggie soup that Andy got for an appetizer was really yummy with the bread dipped in. To get us in, though, the guy outside ended up promising each person in the group (there were 8 of us) three free cocktails, which was similar to sangria.
After this dinner, we went to a bar/club to meet up with some of Kirill's friends. This place was set up with a normal bar on the main floor, and then a dance cavern below. There's no other way to describe this place. It was craggy stone cavern with uneven walls, a low ceiling, and minimal lighting (except for the neon clubbing lights). It was epic. We had gotten there around 10:45 (and therefore gotten downstairs for free, because it was before 11), and danced like maniacs, with Lady Gaga songs followed by Michael Jackson, followed by one that was DEFINITELY on my parents' mix tape for their wedding. CULTURE SHOCK (thank you Allie Benson). In any case, most people decided to leave around 1, so as to catch the metro, but Kirill and I decided to stay for a bit and dance some more (during which time, a French guy made a passing comment to Kirill and I of "chaud comme lapin". If you don't understand French, find someone who does to translate). Around 3, we found a 24-hour cafe to rehydrate, and then kept dancing until 6, when we took one of the first metros back to our respective homes, and (for me, at least) collapsed into sweet oblivion for several hours.
As if that weren't wonderful enough, we all went bowling the next day (I like bowling. Hush up), and then Kirill made me dinner and we watched a movie and I happened to fall asleep at his place.
And then I was happy.
And 21.
But mostly happy.
So, as the title suggests, I have since had my 21st birthday! (Shoutout thanks to ADP for the fantastic surprise birthday skype) It was great. Thursday, a bunch of friends took me out to an Indian place, and we all shared 5 curries/saags/yumminesses and a ton of rice. Then we got crepes for dessert (Rhiannon and Becky got seconds, hehe), when I remembered that the best crepe is nutella and banana slices. I think I already mentioned this in another post, but it merits being mentioned multiple times.
Friday, Andy and I saw Mr. Nobody, which I highly recommend, as long as you don't mind needing to watch it about 7 times before you understand it. It's kind of a mix of The Matrix and Sliding Doors. After that, we went to a party of some American girls who are in the same program as Kirill, who is Aaron's Russian friend from the high school era (remember that time?). We're big on having random, far-reaching connections here. It was great, their apartment was 3 stories for 3 people, with incredibly high ceilings and a bubble staircase (the railing was metal circles of different sizes attached together). SO cool. We met new people (the first ones I met were a British girl and a Finnish dude), and chatted about being in France. Yael and I barely caught the last metro, and got home around 2am.
Saturday (yeah, I decided to have an entire birthday weekend, to compensate for the fact that turning 21 is not nearly as big of a deal in France as in the United States), Andy and Kirill and I watched The Princess and The Frog (fun french word of the day: frog = grenouille. Another fun french fact: "to have a frog in your throat" is "avoir un chat dans la gorge"; literally "to have a cat in the throat") (and yes, this is the new Disney movie...), then met up with people and went to have dinner in the latin quarter. The rue that Kirill knew of was stuffed with restaurants, with people enticing customers in with deals and freebies. The place we ended up going to was an Italian place, with an appetizer (calamari for me), main course ("individual" pizza that I could only eat half of) and a dessert (apple tart) for 9 euros. REALLY good deal, and decent food - I liked the pizza, and the veggie soup that Andy got for an appetizer was really yummy with the bread dipped in. To get us in, though, the guy outside ended up promising each person in the group (there were 8 of us) three free cocktails, which was similar to sangria.
After this dinner, we went to a bar/club to meet up with some of Kirill's friends. This place was set up with a normal bar on the main floor, and then a dance cavern below. There's no other way to describe this place. It was craggy stone cavern with uneven walls, a low ceiling, and minimal lighting (except for the neon clubbing lights). It was epic. We had gotten there around 10:45 (and therefore gotten downstairs for free, because it was before 11), and danced like maniacs, with Lady Gaga songs followed by Michael Jackson, followed by one that was DEFINITELY on my parents' mix tape for their wedding. CULTURE SHOCK (thank you Allie Benson). In any case, most people decided to leave around 1, so as to catch the metro, but Kirill and I decided to stay for a bit and dance some more (during which time, a French guy made a passing comment to Kirill and I of "chaud comme lapin". If you don't understand French, find someone who does to translate). Around 3, we found a 24-hour cafe to rehydrate, and then kept dancing until 6, when we took one of the first metros back to our respective homes, and (for me, at least) collapsed into sweet oblivion for several hours.As if that weren't wonderful enough, we all went bowling the next day (I like bowling. Hush up), and then Kirill made me dinner and we watched a movie and I happened to fall asleep at his place.
And then I was happy.
And 21.
But mostly happy.
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