They brought me peanut butter, which makes me very happy since it is such a rare commodity here. Let's see how long 2 jars will last me! Saturday night was a special dinner - American parents meet Argentine mamá and sister. We went to a pleasant restaurant near my apartment that used to be a pharmacy (some of the shelves are still in place). I drank wine with my parents for the first time, and we laughed and talked over pizza and pasta. I thought it was going to be a challenge translating between English and Spanish, but my mamá and Ana Lucía actually speak very good English! I am going to have to watch what I say over skype :) They had no problem understanding and talking with my parents, and it was really interesting hearing them speak since we have only ever communicated in Spanish. Mamá has a degree in economics and my parents enjoyed asking her all kinds of questions about the Argentine economy and government.
On Sunday afternoon, I went back to the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes with my parents. I was excited to see the European art on the first floor that I didn't have a chance to see last time. Unfortunately, a lot of it was blocked off due to construction. It made me very sad that I was not able to see Francisco de Goya's paintings, since I did a research paper on him first semester and would love to see his work. I'll have to visit Museo del Prado in Spain one day to see his collection of the "black paintings." These are dark paintings of disfigured, distorted, and shocking images that he painted on the walls of his isolated house and never intended anyone to see. I did get to see Jackson Pollock's "Shooting Star", which looked like crazy spider web canoe fireworks, and also works by Pablo Picasso, Diego Rivera, Claude Monet, and the Guerrico collection. Then I re-visited the Argentine art, which I liked a lot better. My favorite works that I saw were by Antonio Berni, Manuel Espinoza, Xul Soler, and Angel Della Valle. After the art museum, we went to the Recoleta cemetery. It was a whole city block filled with tombs, memorials, and shrines. A lot of black and gray, pretty devoid of color aside from the brightly colored flowers on the door of Evita Perón's tomb. There were many historical figures buried there that I didn't know, but recognized their names from street names and subway stops.
I introduced my parents to Argentine ice cream and then later we went out to dinner with Sara, the daughter of one of my mom's best friends from childhood. She is in the IFSA program with me; we had a lot of fun ranting about our homework and classes among other things. We enjoyed a relaxing 3 hour dinner until 11:30. I have had some very good pasta while I've been here and the pastries are good if you're into that sort of thing, but other than that and the beef (so I've heard), I wouldn't say the food here is extremely distinctive from the United States. I wonder if it's much different when you get out of the big city.
For a month now I have been randomly missing 100 pesos on certain occasions and not knowing where the money went. I assumed I had spent more than I thought or had lost it somehow. After I continued noticing my unexplained lack of money, I started to worry. I began to write down how much I had in the envelope that I hide inside a book in my desk. Even after I did that, it kept happening. I once again attributed it to my carelessness and forgetfulness, not wanting to make stereotypical assumptions about the other people with the key to our apartment. However, yesterday morning I counted exactly how many pesos I had in the envelope before I left for breakfast with my parents, and then counted exactly how many I had when I returned an hour later. I was 100 pesos short, and the cleaning lady was in the other room scrubbing the floor. I felt so sad and so shocked but had no other explanation. She had been so sweet to me and has been working for mamá for a year. I was too scared to confront her and also didn't want her to know that I knew because I felt like it would make my situation more complicated when I told mamá later. So I left the envelope in the book and then left the house. When I came back later, another 100 pesos was gone and the earring that I had put on top of the book was moved over. I kind of set myself up to be stolen from again, but I assumed she wouldn't steal more than 100 pesos in a day to make sure I didn't notice. But as my dad later told me, "stop thinking you know how people's minds work, because you have too much faith in people." I know she needs money more than I do and I know this does not make her a bad person, but I don't think that makes this right. I just feel overwhelmingly unsafe with my belongings. I can't take my money on the street because that's unsafe, and now I can't even keep my money at home. I suppose that I need to start assuming that everyone is always out to take advantage of me and then never give them that opportunity. I would not prefer to adopt such an outlook, but it seems like the most practical one to have right now.
I feel like I'm living a paradox. While this country is giving me different perspectives, a new language and wonderful people, it is simultaneously taking my money, my sense of security, and most importantly, my ability to trust in humanity. It's making a stronger person and at the same time weakening my spirit and robbing me of all my energy. How do people live like this? I guess it's like what they say about blind people; if you are born without vision, or in this case, born into a certain culture, you have nothing else for comparison. It's the only reality you know. I am meeting great people and doing great things but I have a feeling that above everything, this trip is making me appreciate the United States more than I ever have before.
When I was very upset yesterday after my discovery, I went to pick up my laundry and then realized that I didn't bring my money. When I tried to explain that I would come back later to the nice lady Carolina, I burst into tears and she sat me down and gave me a hug and words of consolation. When I went back to get my laundry today, she wouldn't let me pay for it. She told me that she wants to show me that not all of Argentina is bad. It reminded me of the nice couple that comforted me and my friend Whitney after the kiosk vendor's harsh sarcasm our second week here. While crime and sneakiness undoubtedly make up a part of this culture, they do not dominate it. There are still friendly people who really care. I think I have to start putting things in perspective and realizing that despite all of these occurrences that were not previously in my personal life paradigm, I am an extremely lucky individual and am just going through the process of becoming un-sheltered and more aware.
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