I will try to make this post not too long and rambling, but it may prove to be difficult. There are just so many things that are different here, I don’t know where to start or where to end, but I’ll give it a try. Maybe this will be an ongoing series. Perhaps it would be best to just try a list format.
With that in mind:
#1 Dogs and cats are prevalent in the streets. More dogs than cats, I would say. The biggest cause of this overpopulation of the local canines is an acute lack of Bob Barker mentality. I have yet to come across a single neutered pet since I’ve been in the country. In addition, most dog owners, for whatever reason, unleash their four legged friends upon the world in the morning or late afternoon, so that the streets are filled with teaming packs of both domesticated and stray dogs. This, of course, leads to further propagation of the species.
#2 Traffic lights or lack thereof. Only in the busiest of intersections do traffic lights exist. In all of the suburban streets there is usually not so much as a stop sign to control the flow of traffic. Instead, drivers use a set of incredibly efficient rules to govern how they drive: when approaching an intersection, you slow down, and if the car drawing near to the intersection from the opposing street is going faster, you let him go by. If you don’t see anyone coming at all, you give a light tap on your horn (if you’re lucky enough to have one) to warn the unseen drivers, slam on the gas, and hope for the best! I swear they have it down to a science! Or maybe not so much, since I do see an unprecedented number of accidents, leftovers from accidents, and close calls on a weekly basis.
Also something weird that I’ve seen here is that traffic lights in Buenos Aires not only cycle Green-Yellow-Red, but also Red-Yellow-Green. It’s bizarre. I have a video.
#3 All of the sidewalks in Mendoza, both downtown and out where I live, are not cement, but rather tile. This city is full of millions upon millions of tiles which make up the walkways. It seems as though every household must be responsible for its own sidewalk as well, because in front of every house there is a different kind of tile. It’s really lovely, I suppose, but it takes some getting used to. Lots of the tiles are broken, or missing, which can make traversing the footways difficult sometimes. Also, this city was just not planned out for rain; so on the few occasions when it has really poured here, I’ve found that the tiles become my biggest enemy. When wet they are extremely slick, and I’ve succumbed a time or two to their treacherous ways and have slipped and fallen.
But overall this is a positive difference between here and the US. At the very least it’s fun to look at the tiles and see the many variations every couple of yards.
#4 I really should have learned how to drive stick at some point. 95% of the cars here have manual transmissions, which has been really inconvenient for me. Not that I have needed to drive at all, but it’s nice to know that if I had to, I would be able to. And on trips to other parts of the country, the idea of renting a car has come up a time or two, but we usually lack a driver who can handle stick. I’ve thought of learning while here, but no one really has the time to teach me. Before I go to Spain, somebody back home better teach me (Kristin, Mom, Dad)!
#5 Strikes. Strikes are a way of life here. Strikes and protests. Every week there is some sort of a strike going on, which interrupts the flow of things and makes living in this city inconvenient. For instance, it seemed like every few days for three weeks the trolleys would go on strike. The trolley is one of the main ways to get around this city, so it becomes very annoying when the drivers go on strike. They literally finish their route at some predetermined time, and wherever they are they dump their passengers and then they all meet in one of the plazas to protest their wages or something. Well, I’m all for unions and workers’ rights and all, but as some of my good friends have pointed out, the strikes here are extremely inefficient. For instance, half of the trolley drivers will strike, shutting down one or two routes, while the other half keeps up the other routes. And they do it on a schedule, and everyone knows it’s going to happen. It would make so much more sense if they all dropped what they were doing and strike together, instead of a few drivers on a given day. I never thought I’d say this, but when SEPTA does it, they do it right.
#6 Little things. Little things are what I notice the most, and I usually forget about them. In the future I will try to keep adding in these little details to keep you all enticed. Here are some: there are never any planes flying overhead in the sky. Because of the tiled walkways, coins make a different sound when they fall out of your pocket. Most bottled sodas and beers come in a glass bottle with a cap that requires a bottle opener. Wine is such a big part of the culture that even the composition of the litter in the streets is different: it is full of wine bottles and corks. No one owns outdoor trash cans: outside they have baskets on posts and hooks on polls from which they hang their garbage to be picked up. No one has printers or scanners in their homes: they must go to a store to print things out. My friend pointed out that even the murmurs and the voices of crowds are different here: there is a distinct rhythm to the aggregate voices because of the Spanish.
There are tons of other differences, good and bad! But I'm sure you're tired of reading about them for now, so I'll wait till my next publication.
Coming up, a focus on food!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Un resúmen de la vida
Hello everyone!
I’m sorry; this has been a long time coming. The thing is I switched classes over a month ago into ones where I actually needed to do work. So I haven’t had the time to write a long and drawn out explanation of everything I’ve been doing.
Then it occurred to me that people would probably prefer to read a few short blog posts more closely interspersed anyway, rather than several long ones with weeks separating them. I’ll try to keep that up.
So here’s a quick update. Over a month ago I went on a vacation to Bariloche. It’s a touristy spot situated at the base of the Andes about 600 miles south of here. Honestly, I think it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited in my life. It’s a great little town, full of Swiss style chalets and sloping roads reminiscent of San Francisco, which end on the shores of the beautiful lake Nahuel Huapi. The whole area is mountainous and full of lakes and beautiful rivers, rock formations, and glaciers. I guess the whole region used to be one giant glacier, but since it’s been receding for thousands of years, what are left are lakes and snowcapped mountains. We went on a guided hike, saw a cascade and huge waterfall, tried the local beer and chocolate (Bariloche is famous for both), and had some of the greatest food that I’ve had since being here.
Since I’ve been back from that, I started volunteer work at a local afterschool program, where I and a girl from my program help primary and secondary school kids with their English. It’s very rewarding. These kids have never had the opportunity to meet a native speaker, so it’s fun for them and fun for us. They’re really nice kids, very well behaved and they love their tutor Natalia (who we’ve become pretty good friends with).
The most exciting things I’ve done recently include going to a free concert of a local one man band and doing a wine tour. I would describe the artist as an Argentine John Ondrasik (Five for Fighting). I liked his music so I bought one of his CDs. Then a couple of weeks ago I went with some friends on a “Bikes and Wines” tour. You take a bus or taxi out to the local wine country, rent bikes through a company called, surprisingly, Bikes and Wines. Then you cycle a roughly seven mile preplanned route to some wineries, or Bodegas as they’re known here. There you can take a tour, go to one of the restaurants or the olive oil factory, as well as a chocolate factory, and have some samples from each. We did all of the above. The bikes aren’t of the highest quality, so by the time you’re about halfway done your backside is cursing your existence, but it is well worth it.
Also, I’ve been meeting new Argentines pretty regularly lately, thanks to a new friend of mine, Jeni, from the US. She’s originally from Dayton, Ohio, and is a college graduate. She’s here on a Fullbright scholarship working as an assistant professor of English at one of the local colleges. She has come up with a great way for us and the Argentines to interact. All of her students are English Language majors, and want the chance to practice with native speakers, and of course we Americans are always looking for new Argentine people to befriend, so Jeni made the connection! Once or twice a week a bunch of people from my program and a California program get together with the Argentine college students, and we speak 50% of the time in English, and the other 50% of the time in Spanish. It’s a win-win situation. Plus we’ve made really good friends with a lot of them and hang out with one another outside of the scheduled meetings. It’s been great!
That’s all of the excitement for now! Otherwise I’ve just been hanging around with friends, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather (until this week when the cold arrived), and reading more Argentine literature than I would care to! Not that I don’t enjoy Argentine lit, it’s just that what we’ve been reading isn’t from the most stimulating stock. So I’ve scattered in some readings in English, such as some Orson Scott Card and now Angels and Demons.
Next post to follow, “Things that are different in Argentina.”
I’m sorry; this has been a long time coming. The thing is I switched classes over a month ago into ones where I actually needed to do work. So I haven’t had the time to write a long and drawn out explanation of everything I’ve been doing.
Then it occurred to me that people would probably prefer to read a few short blog posts more closely interspersed anyway, rather than several long ones with weeks separating them. I’ll try to keep that up.
So here’s a quick update. Over a month ago I went on a vacation to Bariloche. It’s a touristy spot situated at the base of the Andes about 600 miles south of here. Honestly, I think it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited in my life. It’s a great little town, full of Swiss style chalets and sloping roads reminiscent of San Francisco, which end on the shores of the beautiful lake Nahuel Huapi. The whole area is mountainous and full of lakes and beautiful rivers, rock formations, and glaciers. I guess the whole region used to be one giant glacier, but since it’s been receding for thousands of years, what are left are lakes and snowcapped mountains. We went on a guided hike, saw a cascade and huge waterfall, tried the local beer and chocolate (Bariloche is famous for both), and had some of the greatest food that I’ve had since being here.
Since I’ve been back from that, I started volunteer work at a local afterschool program, where I and a girl from my program help primary and secondary school kids with their English. It’s very rewarding. These kids have never had the opportunity to meet a native speaker, so it’s fun for them and fun for us. They’re really nice kids, very well behaved and they love their tutor Natalia (who we’ve become pretty good friends with).
The most exciting things I’ve done recently include going to a free concert of a local one man band and doing a wine tour. I would describe the artist as an Argentine John Ondrasik (Five for Fighting). I liked his music so I bought one of his CDs. Then a couple of weeks ago I went with some friends on a “Bikes and Wines” tour. You take a bus or taxi out to the local wine country, rent bikes through a company called, surprisingly, Bikes and Wines. Then you cycle a roughly seven mile preplanned route to some wineries, or Bodegas as they’re known here. There you can take a tour, go to one of the restaurants or the olive oil factory, as well as a chocolate factory, and have some samples from each. We did all of the above. The bikes aren’t of the highest quality, so by the time you’re about halfway done your backside is cursing your existence, but it is well worth it.
Also, I’ve been meeting new Argentines pretty regularly lately, thanks to a new friend of mine, Jeni, from the US. She’s originally from Dayton, Ohio, and is a college graduate. She’s here on a Fullbright scholarship working as an assistant professor of English at one of the local colleges. She has come up with a great way for us and the Argentines to interact. All of her students are English Language majors, and want the chance to practice with native speakers, and of course we Americans are always looking for new Argentine people to befriend, so Jeni made the connection! Once or twice a week a bunch of people from my program and a California program get together with the Argentine college students, and we speak 50% of the time in English, and the other 50% of the time in Spanish. It’s a win-win situation. Plus we’ve made really good friends with a lot of them and hang out with one another outside of the scheduled meetings. It’s been great!
That’s all of the excitement for now! Otherwise I’ve just been hanging around with friends, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather (until this week when the cold arrived), and reading more Argentine literature than I would care to! Not that I don’t enjoy Argentine lit, it’s just that what we’ve been reading isn’t from the most stimulating stock. So I’ve scattered in some readings in English, such as some Orson Scott Card and now Angels and Demons.
Next post to follow, “Things that are different in Argentina.”
Monday, April 6, 2009
Four days in Fair Winds
Buenos/as días, tardes, noches a todos. Here I will share with you the tale of my latest grand adventure. This one took place in the attractive and very spacious capital city of Buenos Aires, Argentina.It all started with my friend and fellow North American Rachel incessantly bugging everyone in our program group to join her on her trip to la capital. You see, her friend from home, and that friend's family, decided to holiday in Argentina over Spring Break. And seeing as how Rachel was already conveniently in the country, the arrangement was made to meet up in BA (Buenos Aires). For that reason, for a long time all I heard from Rachel in just about every other sentence was, "So yeah, why don't we all go to Buenos Aires next weekend?," or, "Yes that's an interesting point you just made. I think we should continue this conversation in Buenos Aires next weekend" or something to that effect. I, like the rest of the group, just sort of shrugged off the idea initially. I had just had a fun filled and busy weekend with the wedding and dealing with the aftermath. Everyone else had just come back from their adventure in San Rafael, so we were all looking forward to a calm four day weekend ahead.
But then I remembered, "Oh wait, that's right, I'm in Argentina!" The sense of adventure came rushing back, coupled with the eagerness to explore new lands, and the indifference to the cost of such an endeavor. By Tuesday my mind was made up. By Wednesday, the tickets bought. Then there was a lull Thursday... But on Friday the excitement was back ten fold! I had JR's Jansport camping backpack jammed with clothes, toiletries and a binder full of homework that would never see the light of day for the entire trip.
I got home late from class after wandering around downtown searching for a cellphone vendor from whom I could buy a SIM card or "Chiip" for the cell my host father lent to me. I eventually found one, after walking for an hour and a half (time which was pleasantly broken up by a run-in with an Argentine classmate of mine (Luis, a professor of English, French and German who is taking classes for fun (let's see how long I can stretch out these useless parenthetical remarks (maybe just a little more)))). So after that fiasco, I managed to get home, shower and pack the last of my junk in a hurry, then ask nicely if my brother Jorge would take me (yes in the clunky Fiat) to Rachel's house. Which he did.
I relaxed at Rachel's for a little while, and played with her disgusting dog, until it was time to leave. Just before heading out, she told me about how she went to the IFSA Butler office (our program office) and registered our trip with them, (they like to know where we are (Man! Parentheses are cool!)) and how our program director, José called her into his office before she left. "Here, I have a present for you guys to take on the trip! Take one for Michael too." She told me he was very excited. The presents turned out to be individual tea bags... with José's name inscribed on them. Needless to say I still have the teabag. It's a new goal of mine to take it everywhere I go in the country. I'll attach a photo.
Rachel and I were the only ones who decided to make the trip, I think because we're the most adventurous. So we left her house and headed to the bus terminal, and on the way I had my first experience with an ATM in this country. It's a bit intimidating when you can't really figure out exactly how much money you're taking out, and the lady behind you is swiftly losing patience while you blunder with the buttons in Spanish. But I managed.
Upon arriving at the bus terminal (after a very pleasant chat with the taxi driver about American movies and Cadillacs) I had another first: public restroom. I entered the lavatory and was immediately confused by the man sitting behind a toilet paper and soap-laden table, with a dish full of tip money at his side. I headed for the privacy and security of a stall, but the door wouldn't close all the way, and I got stage freight. So I ended up just pretending to wash my hands and paid the man at the table for a paper towel I didn't use, without looking him in the eye.
Apart from those minor uncomfortable situations, the trip was off to a great start. We asked the travel agent when booking our tickets which seats would have the most leg room, and she recommended those at the front of the bus on the second floor in coach. So, we sat at what basically felt like the helm of the Enterprise. It was awesome! Two huge windows right in front of us provided a great view of the voyage. Granted, between Mendoza and Buenos Aires there's a whole lot of nothing to see, but it was still nice to look out. When I say "nothing" I do mean it in the literal sense. Pennsylvanians like to joke that between Philly and Pittsburgh there's a whole lot of nothing. Au contraire, I have seen "nothing" folks, and PA is not it.
We had a weird dinner on the bus, declined to play Bingo with the rest of the passengers (bizarre), and tried to distract each other from the horror that was "Mission Impossible 2" playing on the TV in front of us. After a less than restful night we arrived in the capital.
After wandering around for a while inside and outside the terminal (I had the bathroom situation under control this time), and being solicited by several pleasant, but probably devious criminal taxi drivers, we were off to find our hostel and discover the city. A Canadian couple gave us a map after I asked them in Spanish where they had found it, and with that in hand we found the hostel and the friend's hotel.
The rest of the day was spent visiting a few touristy spots in the city. After unloading at the hostel and meeting our roommates, we headed out for lunch. We found a great little pizza place and ordered a small veggie (or garbage pizza. Yes my taste buds have broadened their horizons). It was so delicious after the atrocious bus food. Conveniently enough there was a small ice cream shop on the same corner, so we had a perfect desert for a perfect lunch. Plus some nice ladies gave us directions on how to take the bus to the famous "Boca" neighborhood to the west. Like Mendoza, Buenos Aires has an excellent public transportation system. Buses and subways can take you just about anywhere you need to go in the city.
La Boca turned out to be quite the tourist trap. It reminded me of some parts of San Antonio for some reason. With every step taken a new restaurant attendant would try to force us to sit at
a patio table, or a man with a camera would try to take our picture for a few pesos. Despite those minor annoyances, it did have some interesting sites to offer. It's famous for its brightly painted houses and shops, as well as for public art and tango performances.We discovered the best part of the neighborhood just as we were about to leave. Right across from the bus stop, mixed in with the kioscos and little eateries was the entrance to a wonderful museum. For I think 5 pesos, we entered the Museo de Bellas Artes de La Boca, Benito Quinquela Martín. Quinquela Martín was apparently a local artist who painted incredible scenes of his native port neighborhood of La Boca. His works are really incredible, especially his "Fire" and "Dead ship" collections, which depict old tall ships in those two states.
The museum is also full of other artists' work, and the roof is home to dozens of wonderful statues. I'll try to put up photos on here, but if I can't put very many, you can always look at the album on my Facebook account. The view of the city from that rooftop was incredible. The museum turned what would have been a mediocre trip to La Boca into one of my favorite outings while in BA.
After seeing La Casa Rosada (the Argentine White House), we tried to find Teatro Colon, the famous theatre in town, but it has been closed for construction for over a year. Oh well, we saw
some other interesting places, and some great architecture. Later we returned to the hostel, Che Lagarto, and got to know everyone there a lot better. It was amazing! The only other American was a guy named Duke from California, while everyone else was Australian, British, Chilean, Argentine or some other group. They were a great bunch of people, and I made some very good friends. Ozzies are the coolest people ever, JR! I know you know that already. We went clubbing with them, and had a great night. I now have more invitations to come stay in foreign countries! The best though is from Jade and Mauricio, a young engaged couple. She's from Australia and he's from Chile. They fell in love working on a cruise ship. How incredible is that? So I have more friends down south than ever!On Sunday we ate the free breakfast at the hostel, and then headed out to a street market, where we got sunburned while purchasing fun keepsakes like a chess board and a key rack. The Chess is a handmade set, with Aztecs and Conquistadors. It may be politically incorrect, but it's cool looking and only cost about $17 American. After a quick lunch of Milenesa and fries, during which we met more Australians, we headed to Stephanie's hotel. Rachel had already given me the good news that Stephanie's parents had bought us all tickets to a River Plate football match. So after meeting Stephanie, her brother Harrison and her Irish parents, we were off to the match in a private car hired by a friend of Mr. Horgan's coworker.
The River Plate game was against another provincial team, San Martín. It was really incredible to see a professional match in person. I learned so much about cursing and hand gestures in Spanish that night. It's interesting because the visiting team's fans are separated and put into a different section than everyone else. They're caged like animals, with chainlink fences and barbed wire to keep them from getting to the local supporters, and vice versa. They must enter before everyone else, and leave before them as well. There are similar fences keeping the crowd from getting onto the field, but that didn't stop a few fans from getting through and rushing the players when River Plate won 2-1. Futbol is a popular and heated sport here, I'd say.
The only downside to the evening was being seated directly below the aforementioned guest section, which resulted in us getting spit on a good deal throughout the match. Gross!
Afterward, the Horgans were kind enough to invite us to dinner at a nice Italian restaurant near their hotel. I got to play translator for the evening between the family and the sweet old waiter (who looked undeniably like Geri from the Pixar short "Geri's Game"). Monday was spent taking Steph's little brother Harry all over town so he too could enjoy the sites and sounds of Buenos Aires. We took him to the Japanese Garden and
several other parks, as well as an incredible bakery and a failed attempt to go to a percussion concert, (although I'm glad that failed because from what our Ozzie friends told us it was not an appropriate environment for someone his age). Later we stayed at their hotel, and swam in the indoor pool while Harry played guitar and Steph sang traditional Irish tunes for us. What a musical family! They're incredible.On Tuesday we did a little last minute exploring before heading off in our AndesMar bus for the return to the beautiful land to the west.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Wedding
Hello all!
As promised, I'm trying to keep up with the blog and write a little something from time to time. This week I've chosen to write about my host sister's wedding.
Two weeks ago to the day, I was contemplating what I should do for the upcoming weekend. Two options were open to me; I could go on an all-expenses-paid trip to a beautiful and rugged wilderness retreat in San Rafael in the south of Mendoza province, where I would be treated to excellent food and whitewater rafting. Or, I could go to a wedding.
Well ladies and gentleman, I opted for the wedding. It was a hard decision, it really was. I spent the whole week weighing the options. On Thursday night I came home to find my whole family in the house (a rare occurrence), and had the opportunity to meet and talk to the would be bride and groom. They were all going out to dinner, and invited me along. While I was getting ready, my host mother Magda said to me, "Look Michael, I knew that the program had this trip planned for you kids, so I knew you would have to make a decision. You can go to San Rafael without feeling bad about missing the wedding. There's no obligation to attend." (That was a rough translation from Spanish... Impressed?)
So, I of course felt guilty when I told her I would probably go to San Rafael. I mean, come on! All expenses paid! But my host brother Jorge fixed that problem by spending a good 15 minutes coming in and out of my room, giving me various reasons why going to the wedding would be a better idea, while also trying to assure me that there was no pressure. After the guilt trips, and a really nice dinner at a pricey restaurant, (pricey by their standards. I think the whole meal cost less than $150 American for 12 people eating full entrees), I decided that it was necessary to go to the wedding. Magdalena and Christian were just too dang nice! And, as Jorge repeatedly pointed out, I could go whitewater rafting anywhere, but an Argentine wedding (his SISTER'S Argentine wedding), was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
My mom certainly knew what she was talking about when she told me to pack something nice for special occasions in Argentina. Although I did not bring my suit, I was prepared with a nice pair of slacks and a blue shirt, as well as black dress shoes. Jorge was nice enough to loan me a belt made of fine Argentine leather to complete the outfit, so I was set. I fit in pretty well, as far as clothing was concerned.
Jorge explained to me that though this was going to be an Argentine wedding, it was going to be a bit different from the average affair. Usually the wedding starts at 5PM or thereabouts at a church, and is followed by dinner and a party that doesn't end till the sun rises. And it is usually very Catholic. While my family is Catholic, Magdalena and Christian decided to only be wed through a civil union by a judge.
On Saturday the 14th I got up and put on my fancy attire, but then had to wait around for a while. Though my eldest host brother Pedro said to leave the house by 11, Jorge is a little more laid back about schedules, (as any good Argentine should be). So we left around 12, only to end up at his girlfriend Vicki's house, there to wait for his best friends to arrive. About a half hour later, we were on our way. I didn't mind the wait, though, as it meant that I could ride in his friend Angel's new air-conditioned SUV, instead of Jorge's clunky 1976 Fiat (the microwave, as he calls it).
The wedding took place at the family's farm. Yes, they have a farm. Another reason for thinking I'm in the right one. It's a very pretty place about 45 minutes from where I live. I don't think they have animals, but they have an awesome garden, an orchard, and I think a vineyard as well. I'll have to ask, but the wine served at the asado wasn't labeled, so it could have been the house wine. Mmm...
The whole affair was quite elaborate, with white clothed tables lining one side of the house under the shade of what appear to be sycamore trees, waiters walking around with delicious appetizers, couches and poofs in the garden shaded by large umbrellas, dozens of balloons floating in the big outdoor pool, and an open bar.
cousin Margo and her husband Demo from Brazil, all of whom I had met at the house throughout the week. They were all very friendly with me, especially Margo and Demo. In fact, I have an invitation to come stay with them in the capital of Brasilia anytime I want! How cool is that?The asado was fantastic, and Demo couldn't stop talking about how much he loved the way they do their asados in Argentina. One of the pictures on here, by the way, is of the asado. It's not a very good shot, sorry about that. My camera was dying so I snapped it quickly, but it gives you an idea of the shear amount of meat at this wedding. All of that grill space is layered with cooked meat over hot coals to keep it warm, and behind it is the pit where they cooked it. Wow, was it good! They had chorizo (sausage), steak, chicken and morsilla. I don't care for that last one. It's a traditional blood sausage, but its musky odor and crumbly texture do not appeal to me in the least. Accompanying the abundant supply of red meat was a large assortment of salad and breads, with wine, water and sodas served at the table.
After lunch everyone moved to the garden for the ceremony. The lucky couple was shaded below the arc of two large converging tree branches while the rest of us suffered in the sun. It was a short service, though, about 15 minutes. The lady judge spoke for a long time about the importance of supporting one another in all possible ways throughout their lives, financially, emotionally, etc. What was interesting to note was that as she was a representative of the state she never once mentioned anything related to spirituality, or commitment to anything other than themselves; not to a religious body or anything. It was remarkable how she managed to stress that these two were being legitimately united for life, without needing to resort to the old "What God has joined let no man tear asunder" stuff. There was also no "You may now kiss the bride" but they did it anyway. It was different, I liked it. After the speech, she told them they were married, and then they signed the legal charter, or whatever you want to call it. Then the couple had their first dance (which was briefly spoiled by a fight between a couple of the house dogs), and then the parents danced, and then everyone.
Demo and meEveryone danced the night away, it was incredible. And there was no one (except me) who didn't know how to dance! Even people from, dare I say it, my parents' generation?! My host dad was boogying better than I ever could, and the man walks with a cane half the time. I'm sure the flow of champagne helped to loosen everyone up as well.
I stayed till the very end of the night, then took the long ride back home with Jorge and his girlfriend (but now it was cool outside and I could stand the Fiat with the windows rolled down).
All in all, it wasn't that much different from an American wedding, but I'd say they have a lot more stamina here for the after party. In the end I was really glad that I went. It was a day well spent speaking Spanish, learning how to dance a little better, and getting to see a very happy couple get married in front of adoring relatives.
Well worth the lack of whitewater rafting.
Coming soon...
La Vendimia and Buenos Aires
Monday, March 16, 2009
Las primeras semanas
Well, here I am everyone! Argentina at last!
For those of you who don't know, I had a strange couple of weeks before coming here. It appeared for a time as though I had a brain aneurysm, (which I didn't, and still don't!), so I spent two weeks going to specialists and such, two weeks which should have been spent here in la Argentina. In the end, my neurologist performed a cerebral arteriogram on me to see what was going on inside my end, and thankfully discovered nothing more than a normal (albeit somewhat over sized and intelligent-looking) brain. ¡Gracias a dios por eso! All I have to remind me of those crazy two weeks is a swiftly fading bruise on my thigh (that's where they rammed the needle into my femoral artery).
So, six days after my procedure, I was on a plane bound for Argentina! But my final destination was not to be the capital of Buenos Aires as planned. Instead, because of the loss of time, I opted for the program in Mendoza, a small provincial city in the west of the country. It would appear as those I made the right decision, though, because I really love this place. I had the opportunity to spend 7 hours in Buenos Aires for a layover, during which I took a cab ride from one airport to another for my flight to Mendoza. While Buenos Aires is indeed impressive and exotic, it was in some ways just another large city. I've had enough of living in large cities for a while, so Mendoza es casi perfecta. I will, of course, visit BA at some point (maybe even this weekend!) but Mendoza suits me very well.
I arrived here on Monday the 2nd of March in the early evening, after more than 24 hours of travel. The journey took me through 4 airports, 3 planes, and a taxi ride, but man was it worth it! My host dad, Pedro, picked me up, and after a small fiasco with my missing backpack (quickly discovered by me behind the checkin counter), we were off to the house. He took me on a quick tour of some parts of downtown before taking me home and introducing me to my new home. It's a pretty little house, and my room is located right off the patio and garden. I'll put up photos soon. Something I noticed right away that interested me was that all the houses are all different here. No two in a neighborhood are alike. I don't know why that is, but I mean to find out. They're all a sort of weird mix between Spanish and New World (can that be used in an architectural sense?) architecture. Very pretty, and they all have little courtyards/garden things.
The town itself is also very beautiful. I knew it was right at the base of the Andes, (which can be seen from just about any street corner), but what I didn't know was that it's essentially in the middle of a desert. For that reason there are tons of plants and trees lining the streets, providing shade and freshening up the environment. The streets look like Philly's streets 50 years ago before the roots of all the pretty trees started messing with people's plumbing and were ripped out. They were smart here, though, when they laid out their city. Every single street in Mendoza has, between the curb and the sidewalk, a small canal. These canals, called "Acequias" en Castellano, bring water to all the trees in the city. The public also use them to take water for their own plants, in addition to the water coming in on their lines. A similar system of canals supplies the water for irrigation in the farms and vineyards in the rest of the province.
I personally really like the acequias. I think they're very pretty, and so different than what I'm used to seeing. But a lot of people find them annoying (especially the Americans, who refer to them affectionately as 'Gringo Traps') because it's so easy to forget that they're there, and fall into them while crossing the street. Luckily, I haven't fallen victim to the deadly 18 inch drop myself, but we'll see what comes in time.
It's those little things that I noticed most at first. The acequias, the weird cars, the subtle differences in plants and animals, signs using the metric system, etc. But now, as my friend Raul mentioned to me yesterday, after these two weeks those little differences have just sort of melded into the background, and become normal.
Two weeks... wow. That's surreal. It feels as though it could have been both an eternity and a moment since my arrival. I've experienced a lot of new things, but have yet to experience any sort of culture shock. I think having gone through two weeks of hell with the brain doctors put life into perspective for me, and all of my little fears and doubts went out the window. So, coming here for me hasn't been a shock, just a little change, just an extension of my normal life. Everything's in Spanish... OK. I speak Spanish, so it's all good. Everything is in the metric system... That's fine. A Km is .64 of a mile. There you have it! I love siestas, I love staying up late and eating at 10:30PM! There's good wine, good food, and classes are just classes. What's left to shock me?! We'll see.
The family has also helped me to adjust without any trouble. I have my parents, Pedro and Magda, and a brother Jorge living here in the house with me. Laura lives here too. She's the family's nanny, governess, employee person. I don't know what to call her, but she's been here since Jorge was a baby (he's 29), so she's pretty much part of the family. Yeah, that's normal to have kids that age still living at home. They don't mooch off the parents, however. They work or go to school and are expected to contribute. In addition to Jorge I have another brother, Pedro (Jr., 31ish) who lives in Paris, a sister Agustina (24) who lives in Barcelona, and another sister Magdalena (34ish, who just got married on Saturday, which is why all my siblings were here and why I know them) who lives nearby in Mendoza. They are all very nice, and have welcomed me like a son/brother. And I know for sure that they're the right family, because they like corn on their pizza! And that's weird in Argentina too!
I'll post more shortly about my adventures since I've been here. Recounts of the Boliches, the Fiesta de la Vendimia, my host sister's wedding and St. Patty's day are all to follow. In the mean time, I just wanted to get this first post out, and officially begin my Blog.
So here it is!
BTW
"The Southern Cone" is the region of South America comprising Uruguay, Chile, Argentina, among other areas. It is not a reference to Ice Cream.
Mmm... ice cream
For those of you who don't know, I had a strange couple of weeks before coming here. It appeared for a time as though I had a brain aneurysm, (which I didn't, and still don't!), so I spent two weeks going to specialists and such, two weeks which should have been spent here in la Argentina. In the end, my neurologist performed a cerebral arteriogram on me to see what was going on inside my end, and thankfully discovered nothing more than a normal (albeit somewhat over sized and intelligent-looking) brain. ¡Gracias a dios por eso! All I have to remind me of those crazy two weeks is a swiftly fading bruise on my thigh (that's where they rammed the needle into my femoral artery).
So, six days after my procedure, I was on a plane bound for Argentina! But my final destination was not to be the capital of Buenos Aires as planned. Instead, because of the loss of time, I opted for the program in Mendoza, a small provincial city in the west of the country. It would appear as those I made the right decision, though, because I really love this place. I had the opportunity to spend 7 hours in Buenos Aires for a layover, during which I took a cab ride from one airport to another for my flight to Mendoza. While Buenos Aires is indeed impressive and exotic, it was in some ways just another large city. I've had enough of living in large cities for a while, so Mendoza es casi perfecta. I will, of course, visit BA at some point (maybe even this weekend!) but Mendoza suits me very well.
I arrived here on Monday the 2nd of March in the early evening, after more than 24 hours of travel. The journey took me through 4 airports, 3 planes, and a taxi ride, but man was it worth it! My host dad, Pedro, picked me up, and after a small fiasco with my missing backpack (quickly discovered by me behind the checkin counter), we were off to the house. He took me on a quick tour of some parts of downtown before taking me home and introducing me to my new home. It's a pretty little house, and my room is located right off the patio and garden. I'll put up photos soon. Something I noticed right away that interested me was that all the houses are all different here. No two in a neighborhood are alike. I don't know why that is, but I mean to find out. They're all a sort of weird mix between Spanish and New World (can that be used in an architectural sense?) architecture. Very pretty, and they all have little courtyards/garden things.
The town itself is also very beautiful. I knew it was right at the base of the Andes, (which can be seen from just about any street corner), but what I didn't know was that it's essentially in the middle of a desert. For that reason there are tons of plants and trees lining the streets, providing shade and freshening up the environment. The streets look like Philly's streets 50 years ago before the roots of all the pretty trees started messing with people's plumbing and were ripped out. They were smart here, though, when they laid out their city. Every single street in Mendoza has, between the curb and the sidewalk, a small canal. These canals, called "Acequias" en Castellano, bring water to all the trees in the city. The public also use them to take water for their own plants, in addition to the water coming in on their lines. A similar system of canals supplies the water for irrigation in the farms and vineyards in the rest of the province.
I personally really like the acequias. I think they're very pretty, and so different than what I'm used to seeing. But a lot of people find them annoying (especially the Americans, who refer to them affectionately as 'Gringo Traps') because it's so easy to forget that they're there, and fall into them while crossing the street. Luckily, I haven't fallen victim to the deadly 18 inch drop myself, but we'll see what comes in time.
It's those little things that I noticed most at first. The acequias, the weird cars, the subtle differences in plants and animals, signs using the metric system, etc. But now, as my friend Raul mentioned to me yesterday, after these two weeks those little differences have just sort of melded into the background, and become normal.
Two weeks... wow. That's surreal. It feels as though it could have been both an eternity and a moment since my arrival. I've experienced a lot of new things, but have yet to experience any sort of culture shock. I think having gone through two weeks of hell with the brain doctors put life into perspective for me, and all of my little fears and doubts went out the window. So, coming here for me hasn't been a shock, just a little change, just an extension of my normal life. Everything's in Spanish... OK. I speak Spanish, so it's all good. Everything is in the metric system... That's fine. A Km is .64 of a mile. There you have it! I love siestas, I love staying up late and eating at 10:30PM! There's good wine, good food, and classes are just classes. What's left to shock me?! We'll see.
The family has also helped me to adjust without any trouble. I have my parents, Pedro and Magda, and a brother Jorge living here in the house with me. Laura lives here too. She's the family's nanny, governess, employee person. I don't know what to call her, but she's been here since Jorge was a baby (he's 29), so she's pretty much part of the family. Yeah, that's normal to have kids that age still living at home. They don't mooch off the parents, however. They work or go to school and are expected to contribute. In addition to Jorge I have another brother, Pedro (Jr., 31ish) who lives in Paris, a sister Agustina (24) who lives in Barcelona, and another sister Magdalena (34ish, who just got married on Saturday, which is why all my siblings were here and why I know them) who lives nearby in Mendoza. They are all very nice, and have welcomed me like a son/brother. And I know for sure that they're the right family, because they like corn on their pizza! And that's weird in Argentina too!
I'll post more shortly about my adventures since I've been here. Recounts of the Boliches, the Fiesta de la Vendimia, my host sister's wedding and St. Patty's day are all to follow. In the mean time, I just wanted to get this first post out, and officially begin my Blog.
So here it is!
BTW
"The Southern Cone" is the region of South America comprising Uruguay, Chile, Argentina, among other areas. It is not a reference to Ice Cream.
Mmm... ice cream
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