Dimensions and Snoring Cats

Part I: During this "shopping" period of trying courses, I've come to realize that my decision of whether or not to take a class has something to do with subject matter, but much more to do with the professor. In a class in the States, if I don't like my professor, the class can be annoying, boring, or harder than usual, but I can still manage. Here, my standards are slightly altered. Understanding and liking the professors is key. I need to be able to comprehend what they are saying and know that they are available for help if I need it. They also need to be interested in what they are teaching. I was excited about my Argentina literature class until I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to stay awake for the 4 hours of this class every week. Monotone monotone monotone small pause. If the professor is bored of his own subject, what gives him the idea that I will find it exciting? I need teachers that are passionate about their subject matter; they teach a million times better than their uninterested counterparts.

I went to a class called "Estructuración de la Subjetividad", or "Structure of Subjectivity" at Universidad Del Salvador. Doesn't that sound nuts? What does that even mean? It turned out to be pretty awesome. The professor opened with questions like "Who are we?" "What makes us different?" "How much of our internal self is based off life experiences?" We had an interesting pondering period that I really enjoyed. Then we dove into the depths of the Sigmund Freud ocean of psychology. I've learned about him in previous psychology classes, but we pretty much just skimmed the surface. The professor started talking about the differences between neurosis and psychosis, which I don't even know very well in English. This is where the language barrier definitely became a problem; some of the technical terms were unfamiliar to me and this made it hard to grasp the essence of what she was teaching. Sometimes I just sat there with my mouth wide open, staring at her until I realized what I was doing. Another problem is my lack of comprehension when the students contribute to the discussion. They all talk so fast and colloquially that I can't keep up.

In most of the classes I've taken, it seems like everyone knows each other. I believe that's because they all take the same classes, since you only take classes in your facultad (major) in Argentine universities. This made me feel very isolated, but once I make the first effort, everyone has been very enthusiastic to talk to me. My new friend Christian cleared up some of the material for me during our break and also showed me the photocopy store where I can get my class materials. It is such a relief to be surrounded by such lovely, compassionate people as I struggle through this arduous journey of intensive learning. By the end of the 3 hours, I was so tired that I realized I wasn't comprehending anything. After all of the insanely long classes I'm taking here, I will never again complain about an hour and 15 minute power lecture at Madison.

Part II: I went to my second Psychology of the Personality class yesterday, and received a shock. For the first part of the class, we discussed John B. Watson and his behaviorism studies, which I was able to follow without a problem since I have previous knowledge of this psychologist, and I also did the reading for the class. However, all of a sudden, the conversation transitioned into a boisterous discussion about the movie "The Wall" based on the Pink Floyd album. Everyone was chiming in with fluid-sounding gibberish, and my first thought was: "The Wall" must be a pretty popular movie in Argentina if everyone here has seen it. And then it hit me. Everyone here has seen it. It was an assignment. Then all of the students passed forward typed papers in plastic cover sheets. I stared at the professor and wondered if I was having a nightmare. When were we assigned this homework? How did everyone know about it but me? Do they use telepathy to communicate in Buenos Aires? During the break, I went to talk to the professor and accidentally had a stress freak out/sob-filled mental breakdown. Those have been frequent for me during these first stressful weeks. I attribute them to stress from class choosing and university system disorganization, trying to understand people and failing, people trying to understand me and failing, and an utter lack of sleep that is leading to sickness. The worst part is, I can speak close to zero Spanish when I'm in this disoriented state of mind. However, the professor was very patient and understanding. It turns out, there is an email account that all the students must login to in order to view the homework for the practical part of the class (I only knew about the 30 page reading for the theoretical part of the class). Don't worry Nancy, everything will be okay. Calm yourself.

The last part of psychology class was very interesting. The professor related the personality to a telar, or a large loom with many layers of thread that they use in parts of Argentina and Mexico to make clothing. The personality is like a telar because it has many overlapping dimensions that all simultaneously coexist. All of our personalities have a physical dimension (one's body and physical movements), a psychological dimension (an individual's thoughts, desires, impulses), a social dimension (you can't judge one person's personality without observing them in their social context with other people), and a spiritual dimension (not necessarily religion, but rather a knowledge of the self and thoughts of the transcendental parts of existence). Just like the layers of thread in a piece of cloth, these dimensions are separate but always unified in the moment of every action of an individual.

I made friends in my psychology class who are all "re simpáticos" (very nice). So many names and so many faces, but I'll get it eventually. A few of us had lunch today, and it was really exciting to hang out with people from Argentina instead of just English-speakers as per usual during this trip. However, they all spoke so quickly and with so many words that I didn't know, that it was difficult to get my point across and difficult to understand all of their funny stories. This is extremely frustrating, because I just want to understand them and not feel so helpless. Sometimes I pause and ask myself: What the heck do I think I'm doing here? I stick out like a sore thumb, I cannot communicate effectively with the majority of the people here, I can't understand the class material, and everything put together is driving me insane. This is definitely the most challenging thing I have ever done. I never realized how hard of a time the foreign exchange students at my school must have in English classes. I can finally appreciate how much effort they have to put into everything, because it's not just the subject matter that provides obstacles, but the basic channel of communication. While the Argentine students only have to deal with wrapping their mind around an obscure concept in these classes I am taking, I first have to understand the basic structures of the sentences the professors are uttering so rapidly. The hardest part is that everyone at home is expecting to hear that I am having the time of my life and that studying abroad in Argentina is more fantastic than every dream I've ever dreamt. Turns out, it's a little more like real life. And real life is never easy. I have faith that I will have unforgettable experiences and that every moment of this huge struggle will be worth it in the end, but that doesn't at all minimize the extreme challenge of this step into another reality. There is no one emotion to describe how I am feeling right now. In order to be completely accurate, I would have to respond to the question "how are you doing in Argentina?" with the response that I am experiencing an alternating pattern of ecstasy, depression, extreme stress, fatigue, and contentment. While this response of my current mental state is slightly chaotic, I suppose it is more exciting than just responding with "good."

It is normal for people to smoke in UBA and in the basement of USAL. Most of the women here have really long, pretty hair and huge, colorful earrings with feathers or hoops. The walls in UBA are covered with graffiti. The wall in my classroom says: "El conocimiento será crítico o cómplice." I looked up the word "cómplice" and it means either accessory, conspiratorial, or accomplice. If I'm not mistaken, I believe this quote is trying to convey the importance of knowledge: either you obtain it and make strong, individual decisions, or you neglect to learn the information, and you conform to the decisions of the majority or to an uneducated guess. I will have to do more research on this later.

I got lost yesterday coming home from USAL, but it was the best kind of getting lost! I found yummy fruit stands and bakeries in Palermo that I hadn't seen before. I also discovered an Indian restaurant called Tandoor 5 blocks from my apartment! SO EXCITED. I miss Indian food; I got so used to eating it every day while waitressing at Kama Indian Bistro during my breaks from college. Mom and Dad, if you're reading this - we are going to this Indian restaurant when you come to visit! Irrelevant side note: I didn't realize that cats snore! Toto has been sleeping in my room and he's like a loud roommate. But a cuddly snuggly one, so it balances out. Thank goodness this week is over.. And now, for a major stress reliever. In 1 and a half hours (my goodness, how did it get to be so late?) I am waking up to sail away in a boat and spend my week-end in Uruguay with my study abroad program! We are going to the city of Colonia, which I hear is 1) beautiful and 2) has beaches. ¡Adios y nos vemos pronto!

300,000 Students Bring Politics to Life

I had my first class in la Universidad de Buenos Aires today, more commonly known as UBA. UBA is a college of 300,000 students that is completely free of charge. Immediately upon approaching one of the social science buildings, I could sense the political excitement. Vibrant neon signs covered the entrance of the building. They continued inside throughout all of the floors. They were advertising student rights organizations and strikes, and making political demands. Some of them provided awareness about various truths of the school system and society in general. There were clusters of students making posters, planning meetings, and handing out fliers. It was awesome to see this living, breathing entity completely run by student desires and motivation. It was a radical change from Universidad Católica, where there is a dress code and classes start relatively on time. In contrast, only a few subway stops away, is UBA, a school full of political organizations and teachers on strike. This is just one example of the diversity in Buenos Aires.

The lack of tuition at UBA is apparent in a few ways. The building is slightly worn down and roughed about and the acoustics in the classroom aren't the best, but it definitely has its charm. It doesn't need crisp wall paint and shiny stairwells to give it life; the students give it life. As I was sitting in my Latin American Film in 1968 class, the girl in front of me pulled out a mug carved out of a gord, a thermos of hot water, and a plastic bag filled with a plantlike substance. I knew immediately what was happening, and was very excited about it. I have heard a lot about the Argentine mate addiction and how people here need this highly caffeinated beverage to keep them going. Mate is a very bitter tea that takes some getting used to. I have also read about the part it plays in family and friend gatherings; this was immediately apparent as a student who the mate drinker did not previously know sat down next to her. Before I knew it, they were taking turns drinking the tea out of a traditional metal straw (bombilla). I hope that I get to take part in this tradition with family or friends while I'm here.

It was hard to understand the professor because of the poor sound quality in the classrooms, but I tried my best. Two times throughout the class, groups of students walked in unexpectedly. They talked extremely fast, handed out fliers, and then left after a "gracias." From reading their fliers, I gathered that one group was informing us of student scholarships available, while the other was informing us about class options and benefits for pregnant students. Apparently it's very common for student groups to make announcements in classes, and also for the professors to allow them to enter without needing an apology. When I finally started to understand my professor, I realized that he was talking a lot about political and historical backgrounds that I had no knowledge of (i.e. France in the 60's). While I know that I could do research on my own to reach the familiarity level of everyone else in the class, I think that a new class and the language barrier should be enough of an obstacle course without this extra catching up to meet a third criteria. The class was 3 hours long and during the break, I was considering leaving since I did not plan on continuing with the class. However, I inadvertently made friends with other students in my class when inquiring about the whereabouts of the bathroom. I soon found out that UBA being a free university means that it doesn't have funding for toilet paper. People are accustomed to bringing Kleenex with them in situations such as these. Good to know. When I commented on how strange this seemed to me, my new friend Taly laughed and said that I was lucky we had a roof above us and a floor under us. I walked to the cafeteria with her and Tomás for coffee and medialunas (croissants). They told me that 80% of the professors at UBA don't get paid. I had no idea it was such a strikingly high percentage. I guess that's why the professors sometimes have classes that run til midnight; they're at their other jobs during the day! After 15 or 20 minutes since our break started, I asked if we had to go back. They said it didn't matter too much; we're on Argentine time. So we came in after the professor started talking, and no harm done. Someone even came in 10 minutes later than us, and the professor acknowledged him with a cheery smile. I really hope I like the other classes I'm trying here, because I'm starting to feel that if there is a school out there that embodies the Argentine spirit, it's UBA.

Play Clothes Made of Curtains

While last week-end consisted of seeking out adventures, this week-end was filled with appreciation of the arts. On Friday, I went to the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes (the museum of fine arts), which was just a 30 minute walk from my apartment. It was free, which was great, but not air-conditioned. It was very big so we did not have time to look through all of the exhibits before we were dead on our feet, but I did look through all of the Argentine art. It was separated into sections, i.e. realism, modern art, optical illusions (those were awesome), etc. My favorites to look at were the mixed media works. All of the intricate detail, free usage of color, and careful selection of textures really added depth to the works. The harsh realities depicted in the war paintings were so detailed and busy that I had to stare at some of them for five minutes, looking at each individual facial expression and human interaction. I appreciated how although there seems to be a bone thin ideal for women in the fashion world of Buenos Aires, a lot of the painters from Buenos Aires depicted women with more natural bodies, instead of trying to make the imaginary characters live up to the same standard as society. Every time I am immersed in a music or dance performance, a theatrical production, or an art museum, I am instantly inspired to reach deep down inside myself and create beautiful and original works of art. Unfortunately, it does not usually take too long for me to decide that I do not have the natural talent to create wonders like those of these renowned artists. Maybe that's the silly conclusion that hinders all of us. Next time I return to this museum, I want to explore the European exhibits on the lower level.

As I was sitting around in my pajamas trying yet again to figure out my class schedule, I had an unexpected visit from my host mom's daughter, María Sol, as well as María's husband Pablo, her daughter Juanita (who I have met once before), and Juanita's friend from school, Sol. We all had a lovely dinner and I was so glad that I was finally meeting other members of the family. We talked about the traumatic situation in Japan among other things. They told me to tip waiters 10% (that's being generous), but not to tip cab drivers at all because it is not their social custom. Sometimes at restaurants there is a "cubierto" or cover charge, which includes table service, bread, etc. However, I've heard from locals here that this means you do not have to tip, and from others that you still have to since this cover does not go to the servers. I think the topic is a bit ambiguous. After dinner around 12:30 I went out with some friends. We had a good time talking and meeting friends of friends (including someone from Peru), and then decided to leave on the early side while everyone else was still out.. At 4:30 AM. This country is nuts. A Beatles museum just opened recently in Buenos Aires! I don't know much about it and they do not have an official website yet, so I have to do some investigating to find out their hours. I am excited to go :)

Last night a few friends and I went to see The Sound of Music at an opera theater. It was marvelous. I find it comical that they translate names of movies and plays from the United States in their own way instead of using the literal translations. Instead of "El Sonido de Música" (literally: The Sound of Music), they changed the name to "La Novicia Rebelde" (The Rebel Novice). It was helpful that my first theatre experience in Argentina involved a production that I was already familiar with. I understood almost all of the words of the songs and dialogue, but I couldn't tell if that was because I had memorized the songs, or because I was comprehending the Spanish. They added a few songs but most of them were the same as in the English version. I was wondering beforehand how they were going to perform "Do Re Mi" because it would make no sense translated literally since the lyrics are based on the formation of English words (i.e. doe- a deer a female deer, ray- a drop of golden sun, me- a name I call myself..). They ended up changing the song by using Spanish words to match with the notes, which I was so excited to hear (i.e. re-pitiendo sin cesar, mi-canción aprenderá..). I smiled during the entire production. It brought back memories from watching The Sound of Music with family and friends, and also memories from playing Maria in our junior high rendition of the play. The Von Trapp children did a magnificent job. They were right on time with everything and I could understand their Spanish a lot better than the Spanish of other small children I have encountered here. The nuns, the orchestra, the costumes, the scenery, everything.. was perfect. Just like being inspired to paint while in the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, la Novicia Rebelde made me want to sing and dance and frolic on grassy hills. My doorman recommended that I see Dracula next.

Random collection of wrapping up thoughts: Sometimes when I miss home, I listen to this music: Regina Spektor, Paul Baribeau, All Time Low, and playlists that my friends have made for me. The dog Tango and I had a conversation today, which was pretty philosophical, I must say. When I came home the other day, a bag of granola cereal and a box of South American Zen tea was sitting on my bed. My mamá is such a sweet person. I like the subway a lot now, but it only runs til 11, which is often a problem. I just feel like it's shadier to wait at a street corner bus stop at 4 AM than it is to be waiting inside the subway station. Last thought.. I have a theory that there is a secret ghost living in the computer room closet. One time I opened the door to the room, and I heard a huge BANG from inside. The ghost just probably doesn't want me to know it's there yet. Maybe it's shy. Or quite malicious.

Brain Freeze and 24 Hour Clocks

Yesterday was my first day of class. At 7:45 AM. I had no idea where I was going, so I left at 6 to be safe.. Two and a half hours after I went to bed. Don't worry, I took a five hour nap today. But anyway, I got the Universidad Católica with plenty of time to spare, so I walked to the different buildings and found out where my classes were. I walked to my aula (classroom) and waited for Psicología de la Personalidad (Psychology of the Personality) to start. Then students started filing in. It was terrifying. It seemed like everyone in the class already knew each other. And how do they greet people that they know? By jumping into each other's arms and kissing one another on the cheek. Sounds like my kind of social situation, right? Wrong. Not when I don't know anyone and I am sitting alone in a chair, trying not to be noticed by anyone. I felt like I was wearing a sign that said "I AM FROM THE UNITED STATES AND I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING." I was experiencing a mental freeze and I forgot all of the Spanish I had ever learned. I was half hoping that someone would come talk to me, and half hoping that they would just see my chair and not the awkward, nervous person who sat there. I didn't realize that being in a room with adolescents who spoke another language would make me feel so vulnerable and out of place.

I soon found out that being in a class where you are learning Spanish with other English speakers is COMPLETELY different from being in a class where you are learning another subject with fluent Spanish speakers. The professor spoke at a rate of approximately 748759012 words per minute and was constantly making comical remarks. I knew this because on many occasions, the students burst into laughter while I stared blankly at him, completely missing the joke. I understood very little of his explanation of the class format, including the differences between the theoretical and practical parts of the class. However, once he actually started talking about psychology, it was a bit easier to understand. Then we all had to go around and introduce ourselves. Great. I was still petrified about drawing attention to myself, so I wrote down what I was going to say before I said it. When the professor indicated that it was my turn, he said enthusiastically, "Intercambio!" which means "exchange student." Everyone was excited that another girl in the class and I were from the States. They all smiled at me when I spoke. We have to do a group project in a few weeks; I hope I don't let anyone down.

For the majority of the classes here, the grade you receive on your final exam ends up being your grade for the class. This is frightening because sometimes I get nervous during exams. I also don't think the exam grades are always accurate representations of what you learned for an entire semester. I suppose the motivation to do the homework is that it will help you prepare for the scary finish. But if I don't have time to complete an assignment, I could just say someone robbed my homework. Not too implausible, either. There are no clocks in the classrooms. Will this 4 hour class be over any time soon? Classes here often only occur once a week, meaning there is a lot of information crammed into one 3-5 hour session. A lot to stay awake for, but at least I can try to make my Fridays free of class. More time to travel! On the digital clocks here, they use military time. This is starting to make a lot more sense to me since you don't need to worry about AM or PM. I'm not quite at the point where 21:00 immediately registers as 9:00 PM, but I'll get there. I went to my second class yesterday but the professor never showed up!

When stores here are closed, they are really closed. Instead of just locking the doors, there are often massive bars in front of the store. Sometimes they are even completely covered by a pull down door (like for a garage), probably to prevent theft. This is confusing because when I was looking for a store that was closed, I walked right past it 4 times without realizing that it was covered by large green panels with grafitti. It's like 12 Grimmauld Place! If you don't know it's there, it's basically invisible. I just randomly made a mental list that I would like to share. This has nothing to do with Argentina but these are four places that I want to make sure to go during my lifetime: India, South Africa, New Zealand, and Cairo, Egypt (because my African story-telling teacher told me that if I am ever going to go somewhere.. go to Cairo). I hope I will be able to travel later in life! I know that it gets increasingly difficult once you have a set job and a family. Maybe I will raise my kids as world travelers.

My trip to Mendoza really helped me to be comfortable with Argentina. It felt interesting to think about "going home" on the omnibus back to Buenos Aires. Home is a fascinating concept to me. Now I have three homes! Buenos Aires (where I'm studying abroad), La Grange (where my family lives and where I have lived my whole life), and Madison (where I study and have made many best friends). It's nice to have many places where I feel comfortable. It gives me more options. The con with so many homes is that I'm always missing someone. The pro is that I'm always with people that I like. As Paul Baribeau says in one of his songs, "Everywhere I go, everyone I know comes with, wonder how many more can fit inside this crowded, crazy heart."

Life in the Andes

And we’re off. 14 hour bus ride to Mendoza with no familiar faces nearby; I was the last one to book my ticket so I was sitting apart from my friend group. The online registration for classes at one of the universities wasn’t working before I left so I had to pack in 5 minutes in order to get to the omnibus station on time. In my frazzled state, I forgot my book and iPod. I thought to myself: this is going to be a long trip. However, I sat next to a man named Jorge who lives in Mendoza, but works in Buenos Aires. He works in 30 day intervals and is only able to return to Mendoza for a week after each interval to see his wife and kids. We had a lot of fun discussing drinking laws, our families, and miscellaneous topics. After talking for a few hours and then sleeping on the reclining seats, we were there! The weather was beautiful and warm but the air was less humid than Buenos Aires because of the nearby Andes mountains. It felt wonderful to be whisked away from the big city and into the natural beauty of Mendoza.

We arrived early and had to wait to check into our hostel, so we roamed the pleasantly uncrowded streets, and I appreciated not having to dodge people every two steps. The main streets were lined with stores that sold leather and alfajores (Argentina’s famous pastries). We saw the beginning of a parade on the street, which started with women in beautifully embroidered red and white dresses dancing with men with hats. We heard from someone than Cristina Kirchner, the president of Argentina, was in Mendoza at the same time as we were! The hostel was small but cozy. There were 7 of us in the group and we stayed in one room both nights. Without wasting any time, we took cabs to Maipú Bikes. Here we rented bikes for only 25 pesos (about 6 US dollars) and biked around to the different bodegas (vineyards). It was such an enjoyable experience. I felt free and happy riding my bike across the rocky streets lined with a variety of beautiful green trees in this amazing city. We spent the rest of the afternoon biking to different vineyards, listening to guides discuss certain wines while we tasted them, and relaxing under the sun while gazing at the rows and rows of fresh grapes. We went to two vineyards, one hippie beer garden, and one liquor shop where we sampled chocolates, dessert liquors, and fig and pear marmalades.

It rained while we were biking, but rather than dampen our spirits, it had a refreshing and liberating effect. The weather channel warned us of thunderstorms, but a thunderstorm for Mendoza is a sprinkle in the US since they only get 8 inches of rain a year. There are aqueducts along the streets so they can preserve the rain water. After our tour, we walked down a street, thinking it was going to lead back to our hostel. However, we ended up in a different district more than 20 blocks from our intended destination. When we finally made it back to the hostel, we found out that we did an entire circle around the center of Mendoza and ended up walking for an hour and a half unnecessarily. However, all of the people we encountered were extremely friendly and at no point did I ever feel unsafe, contrary to my feelings in Buenos Aires at night. Upon returning to the hostel, I got to know some of the other residents. Two were from Canada, one was from France, and a bunch were from various parts of Argentina (Tigre, Rosario, barrios in Buenos Aires, etc). We hung out for a while and found a guitar that belonged to the hostel. They asked me if I played and I told them that I hadn’t in a few years.. But they didn’t care. So I played the songs that I could remember including Blackbird, Stairway to Heaven, etc. that most guitar players start out with, but they were excited by them anyway. My new friend Agustín sold me on the Indpendiente fútbol (soccer) team; soccer is a universal passion in Argentina.

After a late night hanging out with everyone, waking up at 7:30 to start our next day of adventures was not easy. After consuming some medialunas (croissants), my friends and I packed ourselves into a bus and took an hour ride to a horse stable. We rode horses along the rocky and grassy paths between the Andes mountains for an hour and a half, and it took my breath away. I have never been so close to mountains, and I couldn’t even wrap my mind around their dream-like beauty. Getting lost in the smokey layers of red, brown, and gray, I could not comprehend their immensity or powerful presence. They were so amazing that I wanted to eat them just so they would fill my entire existence and never leave me. I couldn’t have been happier or more content, trotting along on my faithful white steed, Sambo. I felt at peace with everything that I always and never understood. I trailed behind on Sambo and started up a conversation with Augusto, a man from Buenos Aires. After a few minutes of mediocre conversation, we discovered our shared passion for almost all of the same bands. We discussed our favorite Beatles songs and albums, and then spent 15 minutes quoting the movie “A Hard Day’s Night.” We also discussed our shared interest in Cortázar, an Argentine author, and Aldous Huxley who wrote Brave New World. Everyone that I have become friends with here wants to exchange contact information and spend time together in the future. What a friendly country.

After lunch, we went white-water rafting! While the peacefulness of the horseback riding was much appreciated, this was a truly exhilarating experience. The river switched off between calm water and rapids. I enjoyed my team’s energy and the chorus of “uno! dos!” that we yelled while we were rowing, causing all the other teams to look at us. The rapids all had names, such as Rock’n’Roll, Trouble, and Island. It felt incredible being doused by the chilly waves of the Mendoza River and being embraced by the wind that passed through the waterfall after the rapid ‘Trouble.’ We worked really well together and did not fall out, even when we accidentally hit a large rock. However, at our guide Ángel’s suggestion, we all jumped off the raft and then were immediately submerged by a large wave. Ángel is from Cuzco, Perú, and he told us that he would be happy to be our guide if we ever traveled there. I would love to take him up on his offer. The part of the river that we experienced was only a level 3 out of 5 for difficulty, and I would like to try a harder one next time.

Exhausted, sore, and mildly sun-burned, I had the most amazing two days that I have had in a long time. You really get to know people when you are traveling everywhere together and you are sleeping a few inches away from their feet or faces. We laughed so much this week-end that I lost my voice (or as I learned in Spanish, estaba afonica). We hung out more at the hostel, had some drinks and taught each other card games. It was awesome being in a room with people from so many different places and backgrounds. There was jovial yelling in all sorts of languages, along with hand motions and uproarious laughter. Not every word was understood by everyone, but it was clear that we all appreciated one another’s existence. My new friend Agustín taught me some basic steps in the tango, and it was a lot easier than I thought it would be. He told me that I danced beautifully, but I know from taking a few salsa lessons at Madison that if you have a skilled enough lead, it is easy to be a good dancer.

My friend Sarah and I went with our Argentine friends from the hostel to a karaoke bar/dance club that played lively Latin music, which made me very happy after all of the music from the States that I had been hearing in stores and bars. For the next 5 hours, we danced a mixture of salsa, merengue, the tango, and the waltz. It was gracefully chaotic and everyone was full of energy. Agustín and I had a wonderful time improvising our dance moves and enjoying one another’s company. There were disco lights and numerous people with big smiles. I love dancing amongst this culture that is so full of life. I feel incredibly lucky to be able to experience all of it, because I know that most people don’t come across this kind of opportunity. Agustín lives near Rosario 3 or 4 hours away from Buenos Aires, so sadly I don’t think I will be able to see him with much frequency while I'm here. But I had an excellent time getting to know him and his friends, even if it was for such a short time. On the bus home, I was again lucky with my seat partner. This time I sat next to someone from Mendoza named Federico who had just finished a year living in Australia and New Zealand. He taught me Argentine expressions and we laughed the whole way home. He also happened to know all of the words to Backstreet Boys’ song “I Want it That Way” which caused us to receive a few stares as we sang it on the bus. I am excited about the friends that I met who I will be able to spend time with again in Buenos Aires. Tomorrow classes at Universidad Católica start and it’s back to reality. I will miss Mendoza and the simple tranquility of the mountains. I hope that I will return one day.

Pigeons and Los Desaparecidos

Two days ago, some friends and I met a man in a café who lived in New York for 20 years and has now lived in Buenos Aires for 20 years. He started speaking to us in English right away because while one of us individually might be able to go unnoticed as a foreigner, as a group we are unmistakably from the States. Yesterday I ran into the same man on the street when I was with a different group of people. We exchanged glances of recognition, and then he kissed me on the cheek, as Argentines do to greet one another. He then proceeded to give my friends kisses, too. It was amusing to watch their faces of utter confusion, having no idea why a seemingly random man was showing them such a great deal of affection. After a few pleasantries, he went on his way and I chuckled heartily while explaining the situation to my bewildered friends.

Don't go to places with too many tourists. Don't go to places with too few tourists. Don't trust cab drivers. Don't trust policemen. Don't trust anyone ever. Don't walk alone at night. Don't walk around during the day on Sundays. If someone stops you on the street and squirts mustard/pours ice cream on you and then tells you about it, keep walking because they are just aiming to steal your purse while you are distracted. Or as our director Mario says, tell them "Good, I like ice cream" and then continue on your way. Be careful near train stations and subway stops. Don't take money out of the ATMs at night. Beware of receiving counterfeit pesos from taxi drivers. I hear an overwhelming amount of security advice daily and it's really starting to freak me out. Especially after what happened Sunday. I skyped with my parents last night and I think my dad is really worried about me being here. It will get better.

In the States, everything is so fast-paced that the slowness of certain things is taking a while to get used to. I had to wait 45 minutes in a line at the bank today just to change some of my pesos into smaller bills. I had to wait an hour at the phone store today to tell them my text messages weren't working just for them to tell me that a lot of people's Claro phones aren't functioning properly and there's nothing they can do about it. There is an ambiguous problem with the network and don't know when it will be fixed. So helpful :) There is a librería (book shop) near my apartment that I want to check out sometime soon. I would like to buy some books in Spanish for bedtime reading! There are so many lovely trees in Buenos Aires, but I found out in orientation today that none of them originated here. This city didn't have trees until they were brought here in the 15th century. ¡Qué interesante! Another thought.. There is lots of grafitti here, but it's more commonly known as street art and has a positive reputation. It is beautifully stylistic and is more often than not a political commentary.

During an extensive break between orientation classes this afternoon, some friends and I walked to Plaza de Mayo. The plazas here remind me so much of ones in Italy with their obelisks, stone statues and fountains. And even moreso because there are lots of pigeons! I paid 1 peso for a small bag of maíz (corn) that I was able to feed to the birds. They surrounded me immediately and ate from my hand. It was a fun experience and reminded me a lot of my family trip to Rome, Florence and Venice. It also made me feel like Snow White! Because she sings to animals and they all like her and cuddle with her. It is annoying to not be able to document my adventures through photographs, but I am using pictures from my friends until I get a new camera. Every Thursday at 3:30, the "madres" (mothers) "de la Plaza de Mayo" come out onto the square and parade around with signs and chant together. These women were mothers of "los desaparecidos" (the disappeared), young left-wing political activists who were abducted by authorities during la Guerra Sucia (the Dirty War) in Argentina in 1976-1983. It is estimated that 30,000 people "disappeared" during this war. People were tortured and murdered under the military dictatorship of Videla, and this continued until 1983 when the citizens regained power. Even after the Dirty War was over, the origins of thousands of people were and are still unknown. As a protest to this horrible reality and a constant reminder to everyone in Argentina, the mothers of these disappeared youth still march around the Plaza de Mayo every Thursday. They are getting pretty old and it was hard to hear what they were chanting, but I saw their posters which read things like "Where are our children?" It made me so sad to see pictures of their innocent faces on posters, and think about how painful it is to lose a loved one. I am so proud of these mothers for continuing to commemorate them and continuing to stand strong regardless of their old age and the effort that it takes to protest every week. They wear white bandanas on their heads with their children's names embroidered into them. These bandanas represent the blankets of their lost children.

Happy Thoughts:

*A cute Argentine boy gave me his seat on the bus today!

*It was another beautiful day today. Despite occasional negativity, the weather is one thing that is not letting me down.

*I am drinking a mug of peach and passion fruit tea! There is an organic/natural food store two streets down from my apartment. It has dried fruit, almonds, cereal, and lots of tea.

*I wore my rainbow peace sign dress today with my tie-dye shirt and colorful Converse. Generally I am trying not to draw attention to myself while in a foreign country, but it felt good to be a rainbow again.

*I am going to Mendoza this week-end with 6 other people since we have 4 days off! There are mountains there, rivers, and lots of vineyards. We are going to try and go on a bike and wine tour and we will be staying in a hostel. It is a 16 hour bus ride to get there - oh boy! Hopefully the buses are comfortable. I'm excited; It will be fun to take a break from this crazy city for a few days.

Don't Worry About the Traffic Lights

Yesterday was difficult. I was on the bus going to orientation in the morning, and paranoia consumed me. Every time someone near me adjusted their weight to one side, I thought they were going to pounce. And when multiple people around me took a slight step in any direction or glanced at me out of the corner of their eye, I immediately concluded that they were involved in a master plan to swipe my belongings. Someone approached me from the back of the bus and I was so scared that I jumped, but then luckily was able to play it off as a forced reaction to the bus lurching forward at a stoplight. I realize now that perhaps I was being ridiculous. I felt like curling up in a ball and crying at random times during the day. I think Argentina is exhausting me. I knew it was going to be arduous adapting to a new country, but not to this extent.

I went to a café with a few girls and I tried my first alfajores. These are cookies sometimes bathed in chocolate with dulce de leche (milky caramel) in the middle. These ones were just covered in powdered sugar, but I want to try the chocolate ones also. There is a multitude of pastries here. You can easily find sweet shops and sweet bread cafés on every block. I enjoy these things in small doses once in a while with a mug of hot tea, but I am more of an ice cream person in terms of sweets. Good thing there are also heladerías (ice cream shops) on every street! I was in a café and I thought I was saving money by only spending 12 pesos on pasta with pesto.. But it turns out that here, you order the sauce (salsa) separate from the noodles. So I actually was just ordering pesto without anything to put it on! I ended up not saving money since the pasta itself was 20 pesos. This does not make sense to me.. I personally would not want an order of pesto by itself. Although the water here is safe, I learned that it has a decent amount of chlorine in it. This does not sound very good for you, but I don't feel like I have many options since I am opposed to buying bottled water if I can help it.

Registration for classes at universities here is a crazy and chaotic nightmare. For most of the schools, you can sit in on classes 2 weeks before you register to see which ones you like. You can try as many as you want, but when time comes to register, you should have gone to all of the classes that you are going to take so you didn't miss anything. Also, there are limits to how many extranjeros (foreginers) can be in a class, so if too many of us sign up, we get entered into a lottery. If we are not one of the 4 or 5 people that get to stay in the class, we have one day to choose a different class. My first impression was that this "cupo" or limit was unfair. My second thought was that it made some sense. If I am in a class about Argentine history and I want to really feel like I am in an Argentine atmosphere, I don't want 100 other norteamericanos surrounding me because this would take away from the culture and feel of Latin American universities. Anyway, the course list on paper does not always match the course list on the internet, which causes more headaches. To add to it all, I have very limited options of classes to take if I want all of my credits to transfer back to Madison as specific classes that will count toward my major. I think I have taken for granted the Madison online registration process that simply takes a click of the mouse. I don't understand how people here do this year after year, but I guess you can get used to anything.

My instructor told us that "semáforas en Argentina solamente sirven por decoración." Translation: Traffic lights in Argentina are only there for decoration. Isn't that the truth. Today he talked about different tourism places that we might want to check out while studying here. I would ideally love to go to Iguazú falls, Patagonia, Mendoza, Bariloche, Uruguay, las pampas, Córdoba, and somewhere where I can really see the mountains. This is a lot to expect of 5 months and I don't think I will have time for all of it. Or money, come to think of it. Traveling costs so much. Especially traveling to other countries. Brazil and Chile both require visas to enter, but luckily Uruguay does not.

I walked home from orientation today instead of taking the bus because I thought it would be more relaxing and let my mind journey to happier places. However, I would not say that it was relaxing. While the city is exciting and it is fun to people watch, I am much more of a suburban girl. There is too much noise and too much transit in the city. Less nature and more pollution. I have also noticed a duality of city life. On one hand, it is cold and distant and people walk past each other without saying anything or caring how the other person's day is going. Cars honk, people cut other people off, and street vendors' words are completely ignored. However, there are simultaneously hugs, kisses, and rapid conversations between friends and family. And just like the people on the buses, even when people aren't all talking to each other, they all make up this gigantic city. There are tons of stores with English names and t-shirts with English writing. I'm not sure if this is because they admire aspects of North-American culture or if the main intention is to attract tourists. I haven't encountered nearly as many tourists as I thought I was going to here, but maybe I pass them all the time on the streets and they are just better at hiding it than me.

I cuddled with Toto and Tango for half an hour last night before going to sleep. Sometimes I feel that animals have magical powers that enable them to make every situation seem a little more manageable. And the best part is, they love you no matter what. I feel badly for complaining so much in my blog lately. I must seek out more sources of hope and inspiration in my daily life. If I believe I will find these rays of sunshine, does that mean I'm already being more optimistic?