¡Viva la democracia!

Today was incredible. This is what I mean when I talk about the political engagement of Argentineans and how it makes my radical hippie heart happy:

Backing up: today (24 de marzo) marks the 34^th anniversary of the military coup that began the seven years of military dictatorship in 1976. It is a national holiday, known as Día de la Memoria, so nobody has class or work and there are massive demonstrations all over the city.

 

We met up as a group, with one of our program directors as a protective mother hen (with what she refers to as her "Argentina clock" that senses when things might get dicy), in the Plaza Congreso, which is where Parliament and the legislative power is located. The historic path to march for political demonstrations is from the Plaza Congreso to the Plaza de Mayo, the political heart of the city and the center of executive power with the Casa Rosada.

 

So, we marched. Sadly, we weren’t allowed to march in the street with the political parties and demonstrators, but we followed the crowd from Plaza Congreso to the Plaza de Mayo. The march was divided into blocks of different political parties (there were something like 35 parties here - though, granted, a lot of them are off-shoots of Peronism) and other political or social organizations walking in groups, each with their flags, floats, pamphlets, and slogans. People were singing, chanting, drumming, giving speeches, etc.

 

When we arrived at the Plaza de Mayo, it was madness – impossible to move, there were so many people. There was a stage with some speeches and later live music (we had left by then). Interestingly (for me), the tradition is that the center of Plaza de Mayo is filled with the "oficialistas," or the supporters of the current neo-Peronist government, and later  in the afternoon, all the dissident opposition political parties march from Plaza Congreso and symbolically "take" Plaza de Mayo from the partidos del oficialismo (this was right about the time Valeria, our director, told us we should leave). Although there was some tension, the uniting political factor of the day was that of remembrance, with everyone rallying behind slogans like "La memoria y justicia" and "Nunca más."

 

I love seeing political passions in such a raw state. I'm thinking we should hit the streets.

Que sé yo

Ok team, here is the plan: first I'm going to describe a bit about my routine here in BA, then I'm going to brag about all the cool stuff I've done, and then I'm going to wax eloquent on some cultural observations. If any of these topics seem brilliantly fascinating or incredibly boring to you, you have now been given advanced notice to skip around as you choose. This is going to take a while.

 Lo cotidiano

 I spend the majority of my week day in class or going to and from. Because I live in Belgrano and I have classes at IDES in Palermo, my daily commute is about 35-40 minutes each way on the subte. While I am not a fan of the hot and sweaty subte, I do enjoy the 10 minute walk from my house to the subte station everyday. Some photographic evidence:

Zapiola, the street where I live. My house is on the left, a little behind the first few trees.  

Trying to be artsy. Suggestions, Isabelle?

Lots of trees with big beautiful blossoms.

For me it has taken far more brain power to figure out what classes I'm having when and what I need to do to prepare for them than it has to master concepts of the material covered. This may come as a surprise to many of you, but I am not actually a very organized person (for those of you that have ever lived with me…I'm sorry). "Running around like a chicken with its head cut off" is a favorite expression of my grandma's and, I feel, an appropriate description of my general approach to life. So, as far as I can tell, we had scattered thematic classes last week, a whirlwind of a history seminar this week, and will move on to economics next week. The one constant is our Spanish class, which we have in the afternoons from 1:30-4:00 (or from 13:30-16hrs, I should say) at the Laboratorio de Lenguajes at the University of Buenos Aires.

 

 Las chicas bonitas in my Spanish class (missing Megan who joined later). Note the sheen of sweat. It's damn hot here. 

After classes, the routine varies. Sometimes we go to a café for a merienda (tangent: one of my favorite things about Argentines is how often they eat. Because lunch is generally 12-1ish and dinner is not until 9:30-10:00 pm, why not have a delightful snack of delicious strong coffee and some sweet mini croissants – called medialunas – at around 5?). Alternative options include wandering the city or being a good student and going straight home to read. Pfsht. (Tangent: we actually have a lot of homework. What the eff. So far I am struggling with the "study" part of "study abroad.)

 An excursion to Puerto Madero and the Puente de la Mujer (the bridge), built to resemble a woman dancing the tango.

Like I said, dinner is late here, which I actually really like because it prevents the notorious midnight snack phenomenon (maybe that's why Argentineans are smart and skinny, girls!). Marcela, being just generally awesome, is also a wonderful, wonderful cook and feeds me very well (erm…I think I am fated to remain fat and stupid).

The dining room/entrance/general living space of Marcela's house. To the left are the stairs that constitute the entry way (we live on the second floor of the house), Marcela's room is through that open door, and my room and the bathroom are to the right. The covered patio/living room and stairs to the terrace are behind me. 

 Weekends are a bit ridiculous. When you "go out for the night," the majority of activity actually occurs in the morning hours, as you are extremely early (ahem, American) if you show up to a bar or boliche (dance club) before midnight. Returning to one's house generally occurs around 6 or 7 am. I have definitely had some fun nights. Enough said.

 Lo incredible e interesante

 A brief overview of the more unique and interesting experiences I've had:

 Concierto para Chile

 Last Saturday there was a benefit rock concert for Chile, to demonstrate support for Chileans after the earthquake. It was in a huge park and there were thousands and thousands of people there (I read in las noticias the next day that there were something like 60,000). It had a very cool hippie-liberal-people-come-together vibe and even though I didn't know the words to a lot of the songs, the energy of the crowd was captivating. I just wish I was as cool as young Argentine people.

 

 Photo credit courtesy of the lovely Ms. Sadie Casamenti, as I forgot my camera. Of course. 

Desde la vida

 The host mom of one of the girls the program has her own television show on public tv, which centers on disability issues and contains interviews with medical experts, advocates, etc. It's called Desde la vida (From Life) and on Monday she invited us to come view the filming. We sat behind the cameras and watched the whole process, then got to wander around the station a bit to look at the shop, prop rooms, equipment, etc. (Note to Emily and Ella: I was about to take pictures of cool shop stuff for you – I finally remembered my camera! – and then the camera died. It was probably the most tragic thing that has happened in a long time.) The set of the show was decorated in mad colors and patterns, probably the handiwork of the small children. It was basically exactly how I would decorate my living room.

 St Patty's/Nick's 21^st/La tempestad

 In the last few years, apparently, Argentina has begun to celebrate St. Patrick's Day in earnest (personally I think the Argentines are down with pretty much any excuse to party into the wee hours). So there was quite a big deal about St. Patty's here. Wednesday also happened to be the 21^st birthday of one of the guys on my program, so OF COURSE we all had to go to an Irish pub. We really didn't have a choice. And, to make it all more blarney-tastic, that night there was the most amazing thunderstorm I have ever experienced. To say that it rained would be so big an understatement I don't know where to begin. There was thunder and lightening approximately every 20 seconds and ginormous gigantic torrential downpours. Being ever so slightly crazy, I maybe danced a little bit on the sidewalk while my vastly more mature (and East coast, non-rain-worshipping) group members looked on...

Museo Evita

 This past Thursday, the program took us to the Museo Evita, which – given such a subtle name, I know it's hard to figure out – is dedicated the life and memory of Eva Duarte Peron, wife of president Col. Juan Domingo Peron, also known as Evita. It's difficult to express the lasting power and significance of her legacy – she never actually held a political office but she is one of the most polemic figures in Argentina history, regarded by some as a secular saint (Santa Evita) and by others as a conniving whore (esa mujer, or "that woman"). While some of her methods were questionable, what cannot be denied is the strength of her commitment to the poor and the disenfranchised, especially to women and children.

Presidential couple.

 "I came from the people/they need to adore me/So Christian Dior me/From my head to my toes/I need to be dazzling/I want to be Rainbow High." Fun fact: Lyricist Tim Rice did not just pick the rainbow reference out of the clear blue sky (ahaha I so funny): Evita's European tour is actually known as the Rainbow Tour. 

Santa Evita 

Her funeral was a huge, huge deal, a big state affair that lasted for weeks. Even after her death she maintained such symbolic significance that ensuing governments after the fall of Perón actually stole her body and shipped it anonymously to Italy, to prevent people from rallying around her memory. Fortunately, it has been restored to the famous cemetery here in Recoleta.

Las Madres

Yesterday we had the opportunity to go as a program to the headquarters of the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo to meet a member. (Quick background for those that don't know: during the military dictatorship of 1976-1983 the government actively hunted "subversives" i.e. mostly young students, social workers, union members, political radicals, intellectuals, etc. and kidnapped, tortured, and often murdered them. These victims are known as los desaparecidos because they would just disappear from the lives of people who loved them and it was almost impossible to find out where they were held, if they were still alive, etc. It is estimated that there are about 30,000 desaparecidos and to this day it is unknown exactly what happened to the majority of these victims. Las Madres organized beginning in 1977 as a group of mothers of desaparecidos to protest the disappearance of their children and to demand information on their children's whereabouts. They still meet every Thursday at 3:30 to walk the Plaza de Mayo in protest and remembrance.)

 

Honestly, the actual conversation was a little underwhelming, simply because it was just one woman, and she had a bit of a standoff-ish personality. However, it was amazing to be in the building, see all the living history, and be one step closer to this incredible movement. One thing that she did talk about, which moved me a great deal, is the fact that Las Madres have moved beyond simply being a motherist movement demanding information about their missing children and instead have become an active participant in social justice work. Many of los desaparecidos were young, idealistic, and involved in community organizations to help the poor and so Las Madres decided to continue the work of their children, rather than simply mourn their losses. To do this, they have organized a free university, housing construction projects, and other such social work.  Prior to the formation of Las Madres, most of these women were typical Latin American housewives and mothers in a society marked by machismo, before the disappearance of their children motivated them to become politically involved.

To fight forever.

 The inside of la presidenta's office. The walls are covered with pictures of Las Madres with world leaders and different awards Las Madres have received. 

Memory and Peace

Observaciones culturales

 Here comes the part where I ramble about random subjects:

 One thing I love about Argentineans is how passionate and opinionated they are about everything. It doesn't really matter what the subject is – most Argentines have an argument ready and waiting (especially regarding politics: pretty much everyone here is very politically informed). I've noticed, however, that they often close their rants with "Pues, que sé yo" ('well, what do I know') - a habit I find myself adopting here. They are also very curious about what outsiders think: one of first questions I get whenever I meet a porteño is "So what do you think of los argentinos?" 

 

FOOD. As most of you know, I'm all about food. And the food here is delicious. Of course beef is the historic food of choice (mmmmmhmmmmm), but the cattle industry here is really struggling and prices are high; consequently, a lot of families can't afford to buy a lot of meat. There are lots of other delicious options: I've seem some super creative and delicious salads, really bready pizza, empanadas (!!!), sandwiches, etc. Another thing I like: there really is no "to-go" culture here. If you're eating, you're expected to sit somewhere and enjoy your food. Lunch breaks are longer, cafés and cafeterías are open super late, and food is a big element of the social scene. 

 I get pretty excited about meal times. 

Culture clash: It's been strange (and enlightening) to see my own U.S. culture, as well as others around the world, through the Buenos Aires lens. Ejemplos: there is a Barrio Chino (you guessed it: Chinatown) near my house. You have not heard Spanish until you've heard an attempted Spanish-as-a-second-language conversation between a blonde American and a Chinese immigrant in the beautiful city of Buenos Aires. Also, there are Burger Kings, Starbucks, and McDonalds all around the city. It kills my soul a little bit every time I see them…but apparently they're pretty cool here. Also, amusing anecdote: on one of my rides on the subte I was creeping on the woman sitting next to me (like you do) and so I was looking at the book she was reading. I began to see some familiar names appearing: "Eduardo," "Rosalia," and, of couse "ardiente" (=smoldering) and yep, Twilight ("Crepúsculo") has made it to Argentina. Let's all take a moment of silence to mourn.

 

Also, I just have to put this out there. ARGENTINEANS ARE BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL.  I'm not sure I've been clear enough here. Let me try again. ARGENTINEANS ARE UNBELIEVABLE GORGEOUS. Really, peeps, no matter what your preference is, there are plenty of pretty people to gawk at down here. I suggest you all hop on a plane immediately. Somehow they have all mastered the uber-cool tousled skinny sexy look, which most of the time just leaves me feeling awkward and a bit like an elephant. So, you know, the usual.

Hokay, I think I've probably bored you all to death enough for today. Sending you all un beso, Argentine-style. 

Somos el tiempo

Please indulge my literary wanderings. 

I'm reading Argentine poets instead of doing my homework. 

We are the time. We are the famous

metaphor from Heraclitus the Obscure.

We are the water, not the hard diamond,

the one that is lost, not the one that stands still.

 We are the river and we are that greek

that looks himself into the river. His reflection

changes into the waters of the changing mirror,

into the crystal that changes like the fire.

We are the vain predetermined river,

in his travel to his sea.

 The shadows have surrounded him.

Everything said goodbye to us, everything goes away.

 Memory does not stamp his own coin.

 However, there is something that stays

however, there is something that bemoans. 

- Jorge Luis Borges

Momentos y sentimientos

Right now it's hard to imagine life outside  Buenos Aires. I have fallen in love so completely with this city it's ridiculous. Of course there are things I'm not so thrilled about (por ejemplo how hot and crowded the subte is, the lack of clean air for my poor little country lungs, not to mention the large amount of visible poverty), but at least for now these don't compare with vibrance of life here. There is a fantastic spirit of vitality and history and alternative perspectives that has me completely captivated.

Classes started last week, but the jury is still out. Right now a lot of it is review of concepts I'm already familiar with or just plain busy work...but that could be the resentment-of-this-incursion-of-my-free-time talking. I still haven't come down from the feeling of limitless exploration of the city. Homework? What? Excuse me while I spend the afternoon in a park with thousands of porteños at the benefit concert for Chile. Weekends that start on Wednesday or Thursday night don't really help either.

I don't have any new pictures for this post because I am a complete and utter failure at remembering to bring my camera with me. But I solemnly swear to be better about this next week. And that I am up to no good. 

Besos.

Estoy acá

Bueno. I'm officially here in Buenos Aires, Argentina (!). There is so much to say and explain, so I think my only option is to cyber-vomit a brief summary of everything. And by 'brief' I mean it will probably be very long.

 Flights, etc.

Being the die-hard frugalista that I am, my flight was pretty much the cheapest possible. And there was a reason why is was so inexpensive, in addition to the genius of Student Universe. Basically, I leap-frogged (leapt-frogged? Frog-leapt?) my way down the Latin American continents, with several short flights and a total of three connection lay-overs ranging from 30 minutes to six hours. Thus, it turned out that I was traveling for over 24 hours, with less than 7 hours of sleep spread out over 2-3 days. 'Twas grand. But I did get to spend some quality time in the airports of Latin America.

  

Case in point: my view from the Costa Rican airport from the spot where I hung out for about six hours.

Orientation, etc.            

I was a little bedraggled upon arrival, especially because I got sick right before leaving. So my lovely group members and directors did not hear my real voice for about three days, as I croaked out my often-incoherent mixture of English, Spanish, and nonsense.

 The SIT directors, without a doubt based on their past experiences of welcoming bewildered Americans into their country, immediately whisked us away to a beautiful estancia about 50 minutes outside of the city. It was lovely and tranquil and sososo gorgeous, and a wonderful spot to begin orientating activities.

I offer proof:

 The two guest houses. I was in the smaller one to the right. 

 

The beautiful grounds. Yup, there was a pool.

 The living room of our guest house. It had the feel of an old-style estancia, with lots of horse/gaucho decor (it also has a stable and is a popular destination for vacationing polo players)

After a relaxing day and a half at La Estancia Don Manuel, we ventured into the city to continue our orientation. Most of these activities took place in or around the Instituto del Desarollo Económico y Social (Institute for Social and Economic Development), known as IDES. Such activities included, in no particular order: tips on how to deal with the, ahem, persistence of Argentinean males (Come find me, Gilberto!), tips on how not to contract and die from AIDS, opportunities for sharing stories and pictures and warm-fuzzy group bonding, watching cute British boys play polo [tangent: apparently polo, as in on horses, is second only to fútbol in national popularity], tips on how not to contract and die from a mosquito-born illness [tangent: initially I scoffed at the idea of bug spray because I don't scare that easily. I have now embraced it as my favorite thing in life, after empanadas. Word of advice for Evie: er…you probably should never come here.], tips on how not to be assaulted and killed by a mugger, excursions for helado (ice cream), a placement test in español that destroyed whatever remnants of self-esteem were left from trying to talk to los porteños (Buenos Aires locals), an evening of attempted bonding with some students of Universidad de Buenos Aires, tips for how not to appear like an obnoxious American (essentially, don't be loud or arrogant or sleep with everything that moves), EMPANADAS, a "drop-off" activity that involved setting us loose on the city in pairs with a map and an assigned destination [tangent/amusing anecdote: I was a bit nervous for the drop-off, as my partner (Rochelle, the other UPSer) and I both admitted to a laughable sense of direction. However, we asked for directions, navigated the subte (subway) with flair, hid in corners to look at the map so we wouldn't look like tourists, found our destination, found the confidence to explore more, and felt entirely successful until we realized that neither of us remembered the exact street and address of IDES, where we were supposed to return. Fortunately, I remember things connected to food quite well, and we were able to recognize an ice cream place we'd visited and find our way from there. Disaster averted.], tips for the best bars and shopping, and FINALLY meeting our host families.

 Pictures of the city:

This was a randomly gorgeous building that, after we asked a random stranger on the street [tangent: Los porteños are endlessly gracious and helpful as we try to navigate their city], we found out used to be a city water administration building and is now full of private offices.

An important Jewish temple and museum. Also note the park. There are lots and lots and lots of parks and beautiful big trees lining all the avenues - enough to prevent this avid North-westerner from going crazy from lack of green.

The obelisk marks pretty much the absolute center of the city. Also, fun fact: this is the Avenida 9 de Julio, which is the widest avenue in the world.

And of course: La Plaza de Mayo and the Casa Rosada. The Plaza is the site of every major protest and social movement in the country and has huge symbolic importance (think Madres de la Plaza). Also, the Casa Rosada was the presidential residence and the site of Evita's famous speech.

Proof that I'm actually here and not constructing some bizarre cyber fantasy.

Host family, etc.

Friday night we moved in with our host families. I live with a single lady (nobody put a ring on it) named Marcela, who is in her mid-40s. So far, I love her. She is completely groovy – exactly the type of woman I'd want to be if I were a single Argentinean psychologist. From the moment I saw her decked out in tye-dye pants and big colorful beads, I knew we'd get along. She's a hippie after my own heart: a pacifist who sings, has theater and musician friends, is a member of Green Peace, and cries when she talks about homeless children and trying to create a better world. She is endlessly patient with my language skills (we speak only Spanish together) and also has two adorable dogs who I have already fallen in love with. I also have my own room, which is lovely. The house is in Belgrano, which is a 15-20 ride on the subte from IDES and the Palermo district.

The lovely Lola. She is completely precious. I'm learning how to sweet talk in Spanish.

Uma, after Uma Thurman. Note the resemblance. Also akin to a mop. Absolutely darling.

My room. The bed is divinely comfortable. The window connects to a covered patio where we open all the windows at night so I don't suffocate.

Most important item in this picture: the fan. I knew it was going to be the end of summer when I got here, but I never imagined it would be this hot. I'm going to wear my one tank top down to threads. 

 The best part of the house: this beautiful roof top terrace. You can see the city, but be a bit removed from it at the same time. Mornings and evenings are obscenely pleasant on the terrace - Marcela and I eat breakfast and dinner there right now. 

El languaje, etc.

 Well. The Spanish aspect of things has been interesting: I feel that I have moments of brilliance where phrases flow out of my mouth in an astonishingly natural way…and then there are times when the simplest words leave me stuttering and surrounded by blank stares. Also, although I love the Argentine accent (it is VERY distinct), I also find it more difficult to understand than most because they speak at approximately the speed of light, use 'vos' instead of 'tu' - which has different conjugations - and pronounce the 'll', 'y,' and other consonant sounds very harshly – sometimes almost unrecognizably so. What I am certain of, however, is that it will be impossible for me not to improve. I have listened to and spoken more Spanish in the last three days since arriving to the city than I would in an entire semester at UPS. I'm glad that my SIT group seems equally dedicated, as we have agreed to speak only Spanish amongst ourselves unless we are in a private place and absolutely need to revert to English. And as I mentioned earlier, it is Spanish only in our homestays. It is comforting to know that this will be my low point, language-wise.

 

That's it for now, peeps. Classes start Monday and then I'll have a whole new set of adventures.