Two-thirds to go!

Considering yesterday marked the 2-month (of 6) anniversary of my arrival in Argentina, it seems an appropriate time to reflect on my journey thus far. Uh-oh, sounds like the beginning of a long blog entry! I'll try and keep it concise. No promises.

A new development in my study abroad experience (where the majority of the studying takes place outside the formal classroom setting) has been my volunteer work at an orphanage (called "Cor," for "heart") in the town of San Isidro, about an hour train ride/subsequent 15 block walk outside of the capital. The commute is time-consuming, but the train proves an entertaining venue for people-watching, and I rather enjoy the solitary walk that follows. Plus, I get to listen to chirping birds! (San Isidro is much more tranquil than the capital. All wildlife has not yet fled.) I've been going twice a week, for about four hours each time, and have already developed an obsession with the children.

In some respects, I think the orphanage fills the void of acceptance and belonging I feel living so far outside my comfort zone. Daily life is an endless sequence of uphill battles when living in a land of foreign speech and customs. I prevail victorious in many of these battles, like when I successfully find throat lozenges at a drug store, or am served food at a restaurant that actually appears similar to what I believed I had ordered off the menu. But these small victories are not without struggle, and it is often difficult to abandon the mindset that you are in some way an inconvenience to someone, or stand out from the rest of the population, even if you speak perfect Spanish or make efforts to dress and walk in the same fashion as the locals. Nothing ever feels quite natural. It is so refreshing, therefore, to be welcomed into the orphanage each day by a mob of maniacal children twenty-deep and starved for individual love and attention. Their unconditional love is so reassuring, their patience so comforting. They have truly proven my most helpful teachers so far. Most importantly, they cover the units of study my Spanish textbook left out, like playing "house," "doctor" and "pet shop."

The kids have been a true test of patience, but I'll just say I'm getting a lot of quality practice with the "command" verbs. The other day I took a handful of kids to a park a few blocks from the home. One of the "mothers" at the orphanage asked me how many children I could handle on this mini field trip, and I foolishly responded "five or so." Everything was fine until a dead bird on the ground became more interesting than the soccer game we had been playing. It was all I could do to keep the kids from putting their hands in their mouths after they excitedly passed the bird around amongst themselves--they of course didn't pay an ounce of attention to my "Don't touch it!" command, and I'm not exactly sure how my attempt to translate the possibility that the bird might carry an infectious disease came out. Luckily, the oldest boy came up with the ingenious idea to give the bird a proper burial service, and once the dead bird was hidden in the shallow depths of the earth I could sigh a breath of relief. Until of course two of the kids found a particularly dangerous tree to climb, whilst one boy nursed a recently-bloodied knee, and one especially trouble-making and rather overweight girl threatened to march off in the direction of the home because I would not give her a piggy-back ride, while the fifth child was already on my back, her arms hugged around my neck in such a manner that effectively constricted my breathing such that whatever directions I was already trying to give in Spanish became even more jumbled and futile. But when the troops were at last assembled for the journey back home to Cor, and one girl named Augustina looked up at me with those beautiful and imploring big brown eyes and asked if they had all "behaved well" as their mothers had ordered, I of course responded in the affirmative. The "mothers" are very nice women, but I've seen how they maintain order and discipline and I think I would even be a little scared of my fate had I not behaved well at the park.

Anyway, I leave the orphanage each day with cheeks wet from the kisses of the children, and often a collection of love letters. My hair is also usually done up in a different style than when I arrived, and not without significant chunks of hair gone missing (I think the quantity of strands of hair on my head has been cut at least in half since I began working). The kids are absolutely preciosos, charming, adorable, wonderful. It is easy to forget that they have HIV and come from such troubling pasts; one would never know it without having been first told. Although Cor is truly a wonderful place for the children to live, frequented by a constant stream of kind volunteers, etc., I cannot help feeling saddened by the fact that these children do not have real adopted families to call their own. I was told that much of this is unfortunately founded in prejudices against the childrens' disease and backgrounds. I'm a long way away from having children of my own, and hadn't ever really considered the option of adopting, but would not at all be opposed to the idea of someday looking to an orphanage such as this as a possible option.

Cor is home to kids of all ages, from 3-14ish, and I cannot help but admire the patience of the older children as they help the mothers with preparing food and the younger ones with their homework. The pre-teens do not offer me the same unconditional love as the younger kids (I refer mainly to the girls, because the boys are hormonal and awkwardly flirtatious with me and soccer serves as our means of communication when language barriers prove to thick), but I hope to win their love with time. It is definitely more difficult than wooing the love of the pre-teens at Bruin Woods last summer, and that wasn't exactly the easiest task. I tried to break the ice with a girl named Nadia yesterday by commenting on her Quiksilver brand sweatshirt--I tried to tell her that it was a very popular brand in the US, especially among surfers, etc. in California. Part of me wonders if she was thinking, "Yeah, well it's probably from there originally, but came to me second-hand with this brown stain on the sleeve." Perhaps I will bring a magazine or something next time to share with her. I will make sure none of the pages are ripped. (With the little kids, all you have to do is tell them that Arnold Schwarzenegger is your boyfriend or that you are 200 years old and they automatically think you're the coolest person on the planet.)


Bueno, much more to come about the orphanage later. Could fill novels already and it has been barely three weeks.

In other news, went with Tara today to explore the neighborhood of San Telmo, and specifically Plaza San Martin. We took a self-guided tour of the "Museo de Armas" or "Weapons Museum." This held our interest for about 20 minutes. I mean in no way to discount the awesomeness of the museum--it was loaded (hehe) with an incredible amount of guns, knives, cannons, suits of armor, some samurai stuff, etc...but Tara and I both agreed that we just don't have enough knowledge/appreciation for that kind of stuff. I think the museum was designed more for the type with that y chromosome thing: the interior design and ambiance could have used a serious make-over, and the women's bathroom had no place to hang a purse or coat. Also, someone had left the toilet seat up.

The next tour we took was much more suited for us: it was of a really cool mansion built long ago for the rich family of General Paz (founder of a popular newspaper here still in circulation)...it was BEAUTIFUL. Gold plated walls, intricately carved wooden furniture, ornate chandeliers (also called "aranas" or SPIDERS in Spanish, due to their appearance...blegh!), etc. The tour was reminiscent of tours in California of both Hearst Castle and Winchester Mystery House. Apparently they rent out rooms for dances, weddings, etc.--depending on the quantity of people, timespan, etc. it's about 13,000 pesos for a night--aka $4,000 USD? Believe that's about how much it cost to rent out the Library Galeria downtown for Senior Ball? Not a bad option...I might get married there...the problem of course would be shipping family/friends down to South America from the US... A high point of the tour (which was conducted in Spanish by a sweet elderly lady) was the realization that I could understood almost everything being said! Such a world of difference in comparison to the last Spanish guided tour I had taken about a month ago. I had to clarify the translations for "plaster," "dome," and "wood of walnut tree," but other than that I got the main gist of everything being said! (Just don't ask me to give the tour myself...listening comprehension is quite different from speaking ability!)



Ok my eyes are going to burn up if I look at the computer any longer. Looking forward to a full day tomorrow out on an estancia (ranch) a couple hours out of town with the study abroad group!

Frat House Embassies

Tired of the usual, New York City status hustle-bustle of Cabildo Avenue here in the neighborhood of Belgrano, city of Buenos Aires, country of Argentina, I decided the other day to take an alternate route on my walk to school. Granted I probably could have handled Cabildo Avenue on this particular day because I was walking to a class that began at the frighteningly early hour of 8am, when not even the coffee shops are open, I am pleased with my decision to have taken a road less traveled...I found the "frat row" of Argentina! (Yes, as in "row of fraternity houses on a college campus.")

I was walking (in my new, amazing boots!) along Avenida 11 de Septiembre, welcoming the change of scenery and enjoying the most recent song that the shuffle feature of my iPod had selected for my listening pleasure ("Shape of my Heart," Backstreet Boys), when I happened upon an especially ornate building. Architecture interested me as a school/career option at one point in my life, but I'm not really learned in the subject at all, so instead of taking a stab at the style and era of the building, I'm just going to say that it looked like a "really fancy house." (Although I have been told that most of the architecture throughout the city draws from French and Italian influences...just like the food.) Anyway, there was a sign on the sidewalk just outside the rod-iron fence encircling the building indicating that parking outside the Vietnam Embassy was strictly prohibited. I did a double-take. Wait, the Vietnam Embassy? My level of self-importance spiked at that moment: I was in the presence of a real live ambassadorial residence! I paused for a moment and then continued on my way, only to immediately after happen upon another parking-prohibited sign, but this time belonging to the Turkish Embassy! And then shortly thereafter, I found the Czech Republic's Embassy! By the time I had arrived at school on this round-about walk, I needed a second hand to count on my fingers all the embassies I had seen: those of Vietnam, Turkey, the Czech Republic, Thailand, Austria, and Australia.

During my walk, I found myself looking for other "parking prohibited" signs outside of each building I passed, and also craning my neck in search of other details that might give away yet another embassy...like, tiny gold placards on front entrance gates, or 4-car garages stocked with Mercedes Benz, standing guards in uniform, and flags waving proudly over front doors. (Sometimes the signs were obvious, and other times not.) Regardless, it stirred in me memories of similar adventures...though I could not quite place it...and then it hit me! Ahh, scoping out the embassies was like scoping out the frat houses and parties at UCLA on a typical Thursday night! (Of course, a very non-shallow process.) If embassies were frat houses, these would be my first impression conclusions:

-Thailand had the prettiest embassy, which probably means its parties are the worst, because no one ever goes there and actually trashes the place. (Frat house "disrepair" index corresponds with party "fun" level, obviously.)

-Turkey knows what's up. The embassy was gray in color and the architecture rather simple and modern, but judging by the trodden grass on the front lawn, something big had gone down there the night before...lots of foot traffic. Also, the ambassador and other officials probably invest more of their resources in "party provisions" rather than building maintenance, which is a plus.

-The Czech Republic, I suspect, is that "little-known yet really cool" frat, judging by its long driveway which led (to what I assume was the embassy) behind a thick grove of trees, such that the embassy was completely concealed from the view of pedestrian traffic. Although word of their parties probably only gets passed around via underground means (whereas the staff members (bros?) of the other embassies on the row could easily just open their front windows or party on the lawn and beckon to passers-by to join in on the fun), I bet they get away with murder at the Czech Republic Embassy considering they are out of ear-shot of cops and neighbors who might file noise complaints.

-Australia for some reason feels entitled to have their embassy cover an entire corner of the block; theirs is by far the largest of all the embassies I saw. I wouldn't go as far as saying it was also the fairest of all, although the building was very well-kept. I have the sneaking suspicion that they are harboring a mock Coral Sea in there--complete perhaps with a miniature Great Barrier Reef and some sick waves so the government officials can get in some surfing without driving 4 hours south to the nearest surf-able coast. Perhaps they also have some barbies in there for puttin' shrimp on. Eh, mate?

-Austria: Nothing particularly memorable about this one. But, perhaps they get the occasional party guests who mistake them for the cooler Australia around the corner?

....

And so concluded my walk to school one fine Tuesday morning. I later let my imagination wander again as I sat through three hours of a professor talking in Spanish far too rapidly for my little brain to digest.

Random Snapshots

No words coming to mind right now...here is a random smattering of photos for your viewing pleasure. Photos compliments of Kristin Rumery :) (They are copy and pasted from Facebook...I don't have my USB cord, otherwise uploading my own photos would be much easier!)



In the neighborhood of San Telmo in BsAs...beautiful architecture!




In the ritzy neighborhood of Puerto Madero in BsAs. We are standing on a bridge called "Puente de la Mujer" (Bridge of the Woman)



Ordering food in restaurants here is always a mystery...translations are iffy at best such that you never know quite what you're going to get...thought "Pollo Limon" (lemon chicken) would be a safe bet, but turns out the "Limon" part was in reference to lemon-flavored mayonnaise. Delicious! NOT.

Boots, Classes, Peanut Butter, Kids

Bought a beautiful pair of leather boots yesterday. It was a complete impulse buy (eek!), but I keep asking myself as justification, "When else will I be able to buy such quality leather goods for such cheap prices?" They are gorgeous. Win. And they look good on me. Double win. And my orthotics fit into them! Triple win! They are also very functional--good for both walking in the city and for wearing out dancing in clubs. (My host-mom was pleased with this as well, as she will no longer have to lecture me on not wearing strappy gladiator sandals out to clubs in the dead of winter.) I find myself saying way too often "Yo soy de Los Angeles y no estoy acostumbrada a este tiempo! Nunca es invierno en LA!" to make up for my ill-equipped-for-winter wardrobe (as earlier mentioned, I brought about 6 summer dresses for every sweater and 3 pairs of sandals for every pair of closed-toe shoes. Good thing I hastily threw in my peacoat with my luggage as a last-minute decision before leaving the US.)

In other news, completed first week of classes. I will be taking two literature classes (one with works from 20th century-present, and the other with works from 19th century-way earlier), and a Spanish grammar class. These classes are with other international students and taught in Spanish. I will also be taking a class on epidemiology and nutrition with Argentine students, but have yet to have the first class because Argentines are still on extended vacation as a result of the SWINE FLU scare. (Feel urge to add the ominous "duh-duh-duh" after every time that is mentioned.) Not sure why foreign students are exempt from the same extended vacations. Perhaps it is assumed that those of us hailing the northern hemisphere have stronger immune systems, having already experienced the first wave of the pandemic? No se. Anyyyyway that class should be interesting.

In other, even more exciting news, I FOUND PEANUT BUTTER AND HUMMUS IN BUENOS AIRES!!!! Of all places, in Chinatown. I do have to say that these products looked much better in their unopened jars than after tasting them (peanut butter is a bit too liquid-y and makes my lips stick together...and of course I don't have normal-tasting milk to wash it down with...and the hummus is just strange) but it's better than nothing! Enjoyed one too many crackers with peanut butter and honey as a midnight (mid-morning?) snack after returning home from salsa dancing late last night (this morning?) Still getting accustomed to "la vida noche" (nightlife) here...pulled my first all night boliche (club) experience with Kristin, Tara, and the North Carolina boys earlier this week. We met at a bar in Palermo around 1:30 am, caught a taxi to the club around 2:30am, began dancing around 3:00am, stopped dancing around 6:00am, caught the subway to the nearest McDonald's (MUCH better here than in the US--at least the "McCafe" part which offers higher-end coffee and pastries) and ate breakfast at 7:00am, and returned home to sleep around 8:00am, just as the sun was rising. Needless to say, was absolutely exhausting. But on the plus side, we saved money on the usual taxi ride home, considering the subway had begun operating again for the day as we were finishing our night! Was odd sitting on the subway in "clubbin' clothes" as others were dressed in work clothes.

Also, began work at the orphanage! Went for the first time this past Friday and immediately fell in love. Was greeted by a gaggle of hyper children who immediately inquired as to whether I had a boyfriend--specifically, the other guy from my program who has been working at the home (Chris). I shrugged my shoulders as to whether or not I was dating Chris (barely know the kid, and wanted to spare him the burden of pretending to be in a relationship with me without his consent), but after glancing up at "Pirates of the Caribbean" playing on the TV in the background, I attempted to convince the children that I dated Orlando Bloom years and years ago. (I managed to concoct a story about how we first met, which involved exploding airplanes and abandonment on a deserted island.) LOVE the children. They are a bit rougher of a crowd than the Bruin Woods kids (Instead of toting iPods and hailing from families with summer homes in Malibu, these kids hail from families that either likely abandoned them or exposed them to things that resulted in severe psychological damage, like extreme violence or using the kids as a means of trafficking drugs. Oh yeah, and they all have HIV--although I was told that this is actually the least of these kids' worries because they are taking medication and antiretrovirals that allow them to function normally, and many of them are too young to even understand the implications of the disease.). Anyway, enjoyed a wonderful afternoon playing soccer with the kids on the back patio (truly is the universal sport...and these kids are GOOD!), and was even given my first love-letter since being here from an adorable little girl named Barbara. Met also with the directors of the home, all of whom are very kind and welcoming, and the lead director of whom asked if I had a boyfriend (why is that such a common question here?!), and after my negative reply, now seems intent on setting me up with her son. Goodness gracious. I expect to learn a lot from the kids; they have already proven patient teachers.

Looking forward to a fresh week of adventure!