It has been an eventful few weeks, and I have been extraordinarily busy, so blog-writing has taken a back-seat. There's a ton to get through in this post, and I better just jump right in:
Artsy-Fartsy Cultural Stuff
A few Saturdays ago, I went to a free tango performance put on by the Buenos Aires World Tango Festival, which takes place the last two weeks of August.
Then, I went to MALBA (Museum of Latin American Fine Arts) to watch an Argentine art film. The good news: I understand almost all of the dialogue. The bad: There were probably 20 minutes of dialogue in the entire movie, which included a nearly 30 minute word-free scene in which the protagonist gets his car repaired. Needless to say, I started to run out of patience toward the end. But I felt really cultured and snooty.
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| Sunset in Buenos Aires taken from inside La Bombanera |
Fútbol
The following day, some friends and I went to a fútbol match, Boca vs San Lorenzo. We didn't buy tickets beforehand, because the web site is completely unnavigable (seriously, try to figure out how to buy tickets to the next match. I dare you). Assuming that there would be myriad ticket-scalpers willing to rip us off outside the gates, we didn't think there would be any problem. And there wasn't, I guess; it's just that Argentines do their ticket scalping a bit differently. You see, there are these soccer gangs here in Buenos Aires. As we walked around looking lost, confused, and ticket-less, a friendly, tweaked-out Argentine approached us and said we could get into the match for 200 pesos. This was a bit steep (around 50 US$), but after going all the way to La Boca and hearing the incredible noise emanating from inside, we couldn't say no. The man told us we needed to go to a less-public alley so that we wouldn't be seen while we waited for his partner who had the tickets. At that point we began to think that maybe this wasn't the safest idea, especially since we hadn't yet grown out of our oh-my-god-i'm-in-a-foreign-country-and-therefore-i'm-paranoid-of-everything phase. As the sun started to go down and the alley became more and more dimly lit, Will and I continued to scan the street around us to make sure that we would be able to make an escape if we needed. (I might be making this sound more dramatic than it actually was. Yes, we were hesitant and a little bit worried, but we obviously wouldn't have stayed there if we had actually been terrified of being robbed and murdered). Anyways, the associate finally shows up, we give our money to the other guy and hope that we aren't being ripped off, then we ask for our tickets. He says something in Spanish that none of us really understand, but it's clear that he doesn't have any tickets. He tells us to follow him; we oblige. We reach security, the man says something to them quickly, and security lets us pass. And just like that, we get into the stadium. Without any sort of ticket or legitimate payment. At that point we realize that we had been dealing with the corrupt barras bravas (read the above link to learn more), and decide that the 200 pesos was worth it, considering it included several adrenaline rushes as well as entrance to the match.
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| The very loud Bombonera, home of the Boca Juniors |
Now for the match. It probably won't surprise you to hear that Argentine fútbol is intense. Like, really intense. Just watch this video of the aftermath of Boca's only goal to understand what I mean:
Now I know how football can be so popular, even though goals are rare and ties (gasp!) are possible: the passion and fervent devotion of the fans creates an inexplicable tension in which even the slightest opportunity for a goal is a thrilling experience. Even as someone who never followed the sport before, I'm hooked, and wish that I hadn't stopped played in fourth grade. Soccer fandom is a one of many parts of Argentina that will surely return to the United States with me.
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| A shop in La Boca painted the hometown team's colors |
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| La Boca is known for its colorfulness. Obligatory photo. |
Speaking of the United States, that place seems so far away and foreign nowadays. I saw an American flag yesterday, and it was a bizarre experience -- an omnipresent symbol in the U.S., yet I realized that I hadn't seen one for over two months. I also haven't heard "God Bless America" or seen Jersey Shore and I'm not sure I still meet the requirements for citizenship. When my dwindling supply of peanut butter is exhausted I might have nothing left of my American-ness.
That, luckily, means that I'm building up my Argentine-ness. I fit in better now; I have my San Lorenzo jacket, my mate and thermos, and my tendency to be late to everything. Now I just need to learn the hardest part: speaking like a porteño.
Actually, one of the things I've enjoyed greatly is learning the slang, or lunfardo, of BsAs. Mostly obscenities, really. The soccer match was a great opportunity to hear every bad word under the sun put to good use, even by four-foot tall pre-adolescent boys. But the language in general has been a pain. I had this deluded idea that I would come to Argentina, struggle for a few days, then be fluent and have tons of Argentine friends after a month. Not so. Two months in, I still have no Argentine friends, and sometimes struggle pathetically to communicate. As it goes with anything, there are good days and bad, but it seems that the emotions are magnified here. One moment I'll feel like I'm wasting five months of my life and will leave with neither friends nor an ability to speak Spanish, and the next I'll feel overjoyed because I made conversation with an Argentine. This experience has been much more difficult than anything I expected, but I think and hope that once I do start to catch on the things more that it will be that much more rewarding. Cross your fingers.
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| Will and I hate Guidos. Also photos that pertain to the text surrounding them |
I did learn that a way to make friends is to just do very strange things and use them as conversation starters. For example, last week there were elections at UBA to choose student government, and it's much more serious business here. There are legitimate parties, and they plaster their campaign posters over every imaginable surface in the building. So, of course, I wanted to take some of these posters as keepsakes. As I stood on a handrail to reach an especially high poster, a girl came by and asked if the poster (with President Cristina Kirchner's face) really bothered me that much. A little embarrassed, I explained, and she offered to give me one of the extra advertisements that they had never put up, and we had a legitimate conversation. hashtag winning
Viaje a Córdoba
Two weekends ago the program took us all on a trip to Córdoba, which is 10 hours away by bus. We took an overnight bus, and of course it was impossible to sleep despite the relative comfort of the seats. We arrived at our hostel at 5am to find that we were not allowed to check-in until noon, so a few of us drank mate until the sun rose. After we finally began our day, we headed off for the first event on our agenda: touring the Universidad de Córdoba. And yes, we were as confused as you are as to why we were spending our vacation time in a place very similar to our own universities. Our tour guide spoke to us as if we were 5 year olds (¿Saben lo que es el NÚCLEO DE LA CÉLULA?), which proved to us that we had, in fact, progressed beyond a kindergarden comprehension level. The small things in life, amirite?
The next day we took a bus to the nearby sierra to hacer trekking (hiking, but hacer trekking is so much more fun to say). It was a welcome change to leave city life and get out into nature for a bit. Also, there were some absolutely fantastic meal times with great friends, and there are many silly photos which document this fact. Our excuse is that we were severely sleep-deprived the entire weekend, so don't judge. On Sunday, we had a free day, and chose to go to the nearby town of Alta Gracia to see Che Guevera's childhood home. It was a worthwhile excursion, and I learned a lot about a man that Argentines are very proud to claim as their own.
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| WHAT?! A candy/liquor store? I can die now Also not related to surrounding text, sorry |
Star Struck
Last Monday, I went to my internship to find all of my co-workers leaving the building. They told me to leave my backpack in the office and to come with them, so I did. As we walked, they explained to me that MTV Latin America was doing a filming a few blocks away, and this was an opportunity for publicity. We all put on our Conciencia t-shirts and headed to Plaza General San Martin, where we found a crowd surrounding Axel, who I later discovered has the #4 song in Argentina right now. If you watch the music video below, you'll probably be unsurprised to know that I was one of very few guys in the crowd, surrounding by screaming teenage girls who demanded Axel's sweaty tissues. Ick.
We Become Celebrities
On Thursday Leah and I went on an art tour of San Telmo, a barrio that is filled with really cool street art and graffiti. Since I had forgotten to charge my camera, I have no pictures to share, unfortunately. However, you may soon be able to see a really embarrassing video of us: A film crew followed us throughout the tour, as they tried to collect material for their tourism video promoting Buenos Aires. The kicker is that they needed to interview people, and especially people who spoke Spanish, and I foolishly revealed that we were here studying Spanish. Of course this meant that we had to be interviewed. The conversation went something like this:
Interviewer: Where are you from?
Ryan: Los Angeles
Leah: New York
(note: neither of those answers is true)
I: Do you like art?
R: Oh yeah, I go to museums all the time. There are many museums in Los Angeles. And in New York.
I: What do you like best about Buenos Aires?
R: Food. And mate.
L: Yeah I have my thermos! (turns 180 degrees to show her thermos)
I: What kind of food do you like here?
R: Meat.
L: And carbohydrates.
....Yeah, it was as awkward as it sounds.
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| El Ateneo, a former opera theater that has been converted into a bookstore. Right up my alley. |
Quilombo at the post office
My dear Aunt Kim was kind enough to send me a care package, so I received a notice at my house saying that I needed to go to the International Package Center to retrieve it. I was warned that this could be a lengthy process, so I brought along some medialunas, some mate, and, as always, Harry Potter y el prisionero de Azkaban. When I arrived there was a crowd inside and out of the post-office. I entered, took a number (73), and looked at the board to see how long it would be before I was called. Alas, 99 was being served at that time, and I could tell that it would be awhile before 73 came around again, considering that there were only three windows open. After reading HP for around an hour, 73 was called, and I took my ticket to the window. The man shook his head at me, and explained that I had ticket 73 E, and they had just called 73 D, which meant I had to wait another 100 numbers, or 1.5 hours. When I was finally called, I went to the window to pay my small tax and was given a number which corresponded to my package. The man at the counter told me to wait in another room until my package was ready.
The problem this time was that these new package numbers were not in chronological order, so you had to listen to every number that was called until you heard yours, or you would never know that your number had been called. After two more hours waiting in that room, I made the classic foreigner's mistake: I dozed off for a few minutes as I sat on the floor against the wall. Regaining consciousness, I panicked. Had my number been called in the preceding minutes? I went to the back room and told a man that yes, I had heard my number called (because they refused to even look if you weren't sure). He looked, didn't find it, and directed me to another section, where my package also was not located. So I returned to the first place, stood in line again, and found another worker to look for my package. I repeated this process several times to no avail. At this point, it was 6:00pm (an hour after the post office had officially closed), and I had to catch the bus to Córdoba at 8 and had some errands to run beforehand. I thus made the painful (well, not really) decision to leave without my package. Yes, I waited in the post office for FIVE HOURS and left empty-handed. Well, that isn't completely true: I did get a good story out of it. Also an understanding of the horrific Argentine bureaucracy. And I had some great moments in which I complained with other Argentines about the insanity of the situation, so I'd say it's a win overall. Thanks Aunt Kim! (and if you're reading this, no, that really isn't sarcastic, and I appreciated the sentiment!)
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| Walking down/Attempting to cross Avenida de Julio is one of my favorite things to do |
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| The famous Obelisco, Buenos Aires's defining landmark |
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| A small plaza in the middle of Avenida de Julio, with the beloved Eva Peron in the background |
So I really do go to school here. And it's pretty hard and in Spanish. I know I harp on this "It's in Spanish" theme a lot, but seriously it can put a damper on things. And I have a midterm coming up at an unspecified but imminent date, so wish me luck on that, since I've understood approximately 10% of what's happened so far in class. The next few weeks will be spent trying to discern a mountain of readings that are sitting on my desk.
In case anyone made it through this monster of a post, congratulations! I will have nothing original to tell you when I get back. But I kid.
PS This article is really interesting and is somewhat related to what I'm doing here. Read it if you have time.
Ryan!!!! Keeping this short in case I can't figure it out....Just learned how to Tweet! PP won 3-0, Claw scored TWO goals! Address for Fed Ex delivery. Maybe will have better luck
ReplyDeleteIt worked!!!! Thanks for taking the time to share all of this. You are a talented writer. I can Fed Ex pretty cheap so give me a Fed Ex address to ship to..maybe your school will let you receive there? Don't want you to miss Aunt Jean's package, too!!!
ReplyDelete