Today I

-- Made the most I've ever made in one day at the bar. A whole 170 pesos! (That is 44 dollars and 81 cents.)

-- Had a conversation with an old expat man building a hotel in the city. He mentioned that he was going to Uruguay next week for vacation. I told him that I loved my trip there, to which he responded "you can come as my girlfriend for the week." After I laughed, he said "I had a girl, she was going to join me but now she can't come. So if you're interested in living with me for the week..." I said no thank you and I have to go clean that table now.

-- Walked by a man breaking into a car. On my way to work at 3pm, I was completely zoned out and didn't notice the deserted street. When I heard a car alarm beside me, I looked over to see a man bent over and rummaging through the passenger's seat of the beeping car. I then noticed the glass from said window shattered over the sidewalk and the back of the man. I ran to the end of the block (not brave/dumb enough to be a hero and tell him to stop) and called the police (conveniently, also 911 here). Of course I was on the block I couldn't pronounce (Azecuenaga) and of course the operator that picked up after six rings couldn't understand me (phones are tricky on both ends). After I said my location and the story twice (I used robar! I mean come ON), she put me on hold. Until I ran out of pre-paid phone minutes. I mean at least I tried to do the right thing. Fuck, though, this city is dangerous sometimes.

-- Watched "Sex Tips with Alessandra" on CosmoTV. It was that or White Chicks or a movie with Brittany Murphy (RIP) and Matthew Lillard. Alessandra is shockingly explicit.

Meanwhile, the skinpeel tour 2k9 has hit my stomach. Face/chest are almost back to normal though! Gotta be thankful for the little things.

Christmas in Argentina

How does Buenos Aires celebrate Christmas? By putting fireworks into the hands of its 8-year-olds. At midnight on Christmas Eve, the city sounds like it has come under siege. This continued all of Christmas day and the day after (til the kids run out of fireworks, I suppose).

My Christmas was... hot. It was about 90 degrees Christmas Eve and Day. I went out to dinner Christmas Eve (and since the Argentines celebrate then, saw hundreds of adults/families walking the streets with plates of food. Everybody was carrying plates of food) and stayed in Christmas Day with a group of 10, eating and drinking and watching movies. Not Christmas movies (on 60 channels we could not find one because really why would you want to show those on Christmas right). Jumper and Corpse Bride. So yeah it was a pretty epic holiday. And if anyone wants to tell me why Samuel L Jackson and Diane Lane signed onto Jumper, I'm listening. Diane Lane didn't even do anything! And Kristen Stewart as the shy half-sister that didn't need to be there!

Anyway, Merry belated Christmas y'all. Enjoy yr feet and feet of snow and pray that my aircon starts working soon.

I made sugar cookies! Mom, look!

9 de Julio, biggest street in the city, deserted on Christmas Eve

Just a lil' early-morning jaunt

Can I tell you about the walk home I just had?

I finish at the bar at 4am, then the staff stays to have a drink so I usually don't leave until about 4:30/4:45. Common sense would say that four in the morning is a time when one should take the bus, but common sense hasn't met Argentina. I actually passed probably 200 people on my 15-block walk home tonight. Cafes are open, guys are selling the newspaper and flowers, and people are just straight chilling with desserts or coffees in the middle of the night (not even wasted). Plus, a million taxis/busses are passing all the time. And the number of other women and couples I pass prevents me from freaking when I come head to head with a somewhat creepy guy. (Though I do have my pepper spray handy when I walk. Have no confidence that I would hit my attacker and not myself in case of an emergency, but it's good to have.) It's strange to think that I feel safer walking half a mile home here than I would in Northfield or Milaca.

In other news, this job is turning me nocturnal on the weekends. I go to bed at 5 or 6 am, wake up at 1 or 2, eat "lunch" at 4 or 5, and "dinner" for free at the restaurant at midnight or a little after that. Que extrano, viviendo en Buenos Aiiiires.

ENSEÑANDO

After a full month of job searching as a full-time job, I've started teaching! I am filling in at two different companies (business English) for a teacher named "Charles," who is in Bariloche before returning home to the States for Christmas then coming back to BsAs. All I know about Charles is that he is from Arkansas, voted Republican, and made me administer a test with the word "douchebag." Yep.

I teach at 8am in a business called NewTech in Puerto Madero. I can't really tell what NewTech does, exactly, but they have three conference rooms with smartboards and dynamic music/video combos in the lobby. The class I teach on Tuesday/Thursdays is just three women probably about 25 years old who are so cool -- today they gave me their email addys to hang over the holidays (I think they think I have no friends. Which will be scarily true once everybody leaves on the 23rd).

The afternoon group I teach is for a company called Globant; it's a computer software company that makes products for EA Sports and Dreamworks. The office is really "fun" -- they have a rock wall, ping pong table, and lime green decor. And an instrument room (Aaron, does Target have an instrument room? Maybe you should come to Argentina and work for Globant). Walking around, I have yet to see anybody programming/not on Facebook. Anyway, I teach intermediate, upper intermediate, and advanced classes of 10 men each. They are very, very nerdy. Today I showed them a news clip about virtual office spaces (side note: virtual is maybe THE hardest word for Spanish speakers to say) like Second Life -- all of the students had very strong (impassioned, maybe even) opinions about this.

Anyway the commute is a pain in the ass. When I finish at Globant, I have to walk for ten minutes, take a 20 minute bus, get off, walk four blocks through the most pickpockety part of town, board the subte, get off, do a transfer, get on another subte, get off, and walk five blocks. Any future complaints I hear about a 15-minute drive to work will be shut down. Still, teaching is so surprisingly enjoyable that it makes up for the early morning and the long commute (and the longer month of awful, anxiety-causing job searching). I can't wait to have a non-fill-in job with my own classes!

SOON: pics/story of Punta, and The Worst Sunburn I've Ever Had

Vamos / vom-os

No but seriously, I see someone throwing up in the street here like every three days. It's the weirdest.

Tell you what the Argentines love

Fruitcake. The only evidence I've seen, in fact, of the upcoming Christmas season is the size of the fruitcake aisle (yes, aisle) increasing three-fold.

X-mas 2k9: no lights, no tinsel, just fruitcake.

A Long-winded Telling of a Ridiculous Subte Story

So yesterday I found myself leaving an interview in Microcentro (business capital, people in suits everywhere) at 5:00. Not thinking too hard about the implications of this time of day, I transfer from the red line of the subte to the green line to ride out from the city center to my stop in Recoleta. As I walk down the corridor to the train platform, a middle-aged man asks me the time in Spanish. I respond in Spanish, but not well enough to prevent him from asking if I am from someplace other than Argentina. When I answer that I am Estadounidense, he first compliments me on being from a country that produced the most beautiful girl in the world, then goes into specifics by telling me I am "fit" and asking if I do sports (Alex I'm sure you love this part). He introduces himself as a doctor and tells me that he does, in fact, want to learn English -- could I teach him? Seeing a potential student (albeit an unsettling one -- when I mentioned that I was twenty-two, he was surprised that I wasn't sixteen... because the previous compliment would have then been more appropriate?), I give him my email address only and tell him to let me know if he would like a lesson. "Saturday night?" he asks. "No," I say, "during the day. In public."

At this point the train reaches the platform and the magnitude of trying to hop on the notoriously crowded subte during rush hour hits me. Throngs of professionals swarm onto the train, and I try to squeeze in with my boxy professional-bag just as the bell rings announcing the doors closing. A few members of the large crowd churning inside pull on my arms like a scene from a horror film. Though my body makes it in, my left foot is caught in the closing doors. I, envisioning every horrific subway scenario I've seen, begin to panic and scream while wrenching my foot out of my shoe. Though I successfully get my foot out in about five seconds, my shoe is still trapped in the subte door. My panic has inspired several others in the packed car to also panic and to begin shouting "PARE! PARE! [stop]" and "ABRA LAS PUERTAS [open the doors]," all likely picturing my ankle being broken by the pinching door. After stopping, starting again, and stopping, the train door opens, and I retrieve my shoe, placing it on the ground (not on) my trembling foot. Someone nearby sees that the door opened solely for me to recover my shoe (something I realize later could have just as easily been done at the next stop) and loudly mutters "un zapato?!" The murmer "ni pied, solo zapato" goes through the car, and the faces of the 50 or so people packed and sweating inches from me turn to disgust.

Meanwhile my doctor friend from before pets my hair and tells me how happy he is that I am all right. FOUR STOPS I then have to ride standing next to creepy man and scrunched by people slightly upset that my foot didn't break. Needless to say, I am avoiding the subte between the hours of 4 and 6 until further notice.

On the bright side, my shoe only has the smallest scuff! Ready to wear with my serious jacket for the next interview!

Thanksado

I didn't realize how much I'd miss Thanksgiving (usually one of my most dismissable holidays); I really want to be with the babe, though, and eating M&Ms and chatting with my fam and maybe even wearing a sweater. On the bright side, I'm working tomorrow (8 hours serving a Thanksgiving dinner at an American bar; I get to keep tips and have yet to find a job teaching, so I'll take what I can get) and then we're having a Thanksado! Garlic bread, mashed potatoes, and carne carne carne (polvo, or turkey, is scarce here, but beef is plentiful) -- a less traditional holiday meal (especially since it's humid as hell and supposed to be 85 degrees tomorrow) complimented by oh-so-traditional Malbec. I might go to the kiosko and buy some M&Ms for myself, too.

This is actually asado number three of the week, we had one Tuesday, and didn't finish the meat so had another tonight. I really think it may do me in. I'm going to be 10 pounds heavier and 15 years closer to my first heart attack by the end of this week. I give thanks that I am living all my meat-eating dreams.

Thanksado pics on Friday? Hopefully a positive job update?

Leonitas, or Another Animal Post

One of the great things about South America is the complete lack of red tape on things that are very heavily restricted in the U.S. Like holding recently-born tiger and lion cubs AKA how I spent my Thursday.

It was Justine's friend Shane's last day (literally, he caught a flight to America 11pm, after being here for three months), and he had heard from a friend who had heard from a friend about this bomb zoo that allows you to pet the animals. Not just goats and ponies or whatever, but legit lions and tigers (bears only in my dreams). After a frustrating morning (slash week and a half) of job hunting, I went with them to this magical-sounding zoo yesterday afternoon.

Shane bought us a taxi for the whole day (he's actually the best, sad I met him only now), and we began a long trip (we drove 40 minutes, went to the wrong zoo, paid, got a refund, then drove 45 more minutes) through rural Argentina. The drive was actually another great part of the day; it's strange to think how much my(/so many people's) opinion of Argentina is based on the well-to-do, touristy areas of Buenos Aires -- comparable to foreigners thinking of America as the Upper East Side. We drove through outer outer suburbs of the city, where housing is probably a quarter of the price and it's safe to ride bikes and men sit in clumps on the corner and drink mate and chat.

ANYWAY, we finally got to Zoo de Lujan, this HUGE reserve, paid the $10 entrance fee, and chatted up the large cats man. He took us to see a tiger that had recently given birth -- then took one of the babies and gave it to us to cuddle. Actually the size of a kitten; it fell asleep in my arms.

The man then took us to a pen with two-month old lion cubs, (in which they also put puppies [for companionship/to assist in taming the cubs, I think]). After a minute of exclaiming outside the pen, he let us in to hold and pet and feed them. Yeah, hi:

fed 'em too

lions for everybody

oh hiii what's up

As I said, this zoo would be SO shut down in the states -- apparently it is hella contraversial worldwide (wonder why) but the employees were extremely nice and since we were more interested in holding/feeding the babies rather than the grown lions/tigers (which you can also do apparently) I didn't feel unsafe. The animals weren't drugged and seemed pretty well-cared for and content. Zoos by nature are problematic, and this one didn't seem any more so than any I've been to in the past -- just wayyy more awesome.

The park also had some elephants (though you couldn't get up close so not that different than a normal zoo), crazy tropical birds galore (toucans look fake up close), pumas, camels, monkeys (who shake yr hand if you let them) and BBBEARS. The bears were being moved as we left -- literally, bears just strolling on a leash right by us. More pictures:

ain't no thang after that horse

back when I was 9 and wanted a monkey for Christmas this would have been my dream

oh hey ossos

Mendozz Part III

A preface: I've never been a horse person. I never had that phase where I bought horse folders and wanted to go riding (at least not that I can remember). I avoid horses in much the same way I avoid dogs -- not only do they smell terrible (let's be honest here, they do) but there's so much that can go wrong on a horse. If, for example it gets spooked by something (let's say a snake, to make the scenario even more dramatic for me) and freaks out, I could not only be bucked off but also entangled in a stirrup or fallen upon. Not fun! Christopher Reeve!

This being known, it may come as a shock that on my third day in Mendoza I willingly and eagerly paid money for a guided horse tour. And it was totally awesome. We took a bus, then a van up through the Andes to a small stable in a small town. A cute little gaucho man designated horses for us, and we took a three hour horse ride through the mountains. LE-GIT.

It's me! No lie.

Having ridden a horse only once before, I found the first thirty minutes absolutely terrifying -- I freaked out when the horse moved its head after I first got on, I freaked out when the horse started walking into another horse, I FREAKED out when the horse started trotting down a steep incline. The gaucho guide kept saying "no fear, no fear" which I initially believed were kind words to calm me but realized was a strained warning not to spook the horse with my nervous yelps. A ways in, I grew used to the ride and was able to keep my composure up and down hills (though I was not going to risk taking a hand off the reins to take any photos, so the ones I have are from before/after/other people's cameras).

Tranka, Spanka, Jappa // my "no fear" face, obvi

My horse's name was Spanka (no joke); Becky's was Tranka, and Debbie's was Jappa. Garrett had the least-funnily named horse with Gaucho (which seemed to fit since he was the only one able to ride -- he actually got scolded a few times for galloping when the going speed was mine aka a concerted effort to move forward at all aka I was more cool with this than I should have been, plodding meant safe). The route was scenic to the point of ridiculousness. No but really look at this:


Anyway, when we got back to Mendoza we had four hours before our bus left, so we walked around the city. Mendoza has a park that's as large as the city proper, which we found comical, and an odd water drainage system that forms a moat on every block. It's a really cute place, and I'm looking into teaching English there (at the moment I'm looking into teaching English anywhere in the world, actually, but that's another post). On the way back we got a movie (!) and more packaged cookies (!!) aaaaaand a bus that was still 60 degrees in the middle of the night. Whatevz. Good weekend. Anybody who comes to visit we're GOING.

No but what if a kid falls in there? Why is it on underline?

SIDENOTE

The infamous Buenos Aires summer weather has arrived. It's been unbearably hot and sticky the last two days (bought a popsicle on the street today and I think it was actually the best thing I've ever eaten) and in the last hour an almost-biblical rainstorm has begun. Good thing applying for jobs requires me to be inside all day!

Mendozz Part II

We woke up for our second day in Mendoza to perfect weather. PER-FECT. Like 83 degrees and blue blue skies. While everybody else was still sleeping, I went for a little run through the streets of Mendoza -- HUGE difference from Buenos Aires; honestly, it felt more like running through Northfield. I saw maybe 20 people out and about, and when I needed to cross the street, no car tried to run me over. Glorious. The city is so so charming, and hitting it mid-springtime was perfect. Mendoza has like 8 plazas and a gigantic park (more about that tomorrow) with fountains and flowery trees, plus the gorgeous European architecture of Buenos Aires. (Plus a backdrop of the mountains.) I'm becoming increasingly in love with running as a way to see a city -- at the same time as exercising, I can really see the architecture and inhabitants of a place (fo free). Alllllll about multitasking.

After I got back and everyone had showered (and eaten the continental breakfast, which consisted of flaky bread, jam, and dulce de leche [really 'breakfast' in Argentina could be better classified as 'morning dessert']), we put on our swimsuits and boarded a 7.50 peso ($1.75) bus to a thermal spa an hour away, not sure what to expect but enjoying the idea of relaxing next to natural rock pools.

The therma park ended up far surpassing my expectations. Mendoza is a desert city, so the outer mountains are dry/rocky/orangeish/resemble my idea of New Mexico. Nestled into the canyons was this park with rock pools upon rock pools, a lazy river, waterfalls, flowers and cacti.
We sunbathed and swam in the cold water pools during the heat of the day, ate two dollar hamburgers and drank beer at lunch, then attempted to hike (though only Garrett's freakishly long legs could rock-hop across one creek, so the rest of us skipped rocks and chilled in the canyon). When it got colder in the evening, we sat in the hot pools (actually boiling) until it was time to catch the bus back. Had Mexican food for dinner (margs! they don't have margs anywhere here! though it felt like blasphemy to drink tequila in wine country) outdoors and chatted until bedtime.

ummmmmmm HI, actually paradise

Garrett crossed the rocks to the other side of the river like a champ.

And the rest of us just chilled in this canyon valley.

Every single one of us unintentially got sunburnt to the max -- my lips have been dry for 10 days now.

Tomorrow: horseback riding through the Andes -- alllmost too much for me to handle.

Mendozz

I realize that I haven't posted for two full weeks. I'll get better, I promise, starting with a three-part recap of my weekend getaway to the Dirty 'Doza! (aka Mendoza, and actually that's a misnomer because it's one of the cleanest, nicest cities I've ever visited).

Friday afternoon I finished my TEFL course, taught my last practice class, packed up my clothes and, in a sweaty flurry, hopped a 15-hour bus from the Buenos Aires Retiro bus station to Mendoza. I went with two girls from my house, Becky and Debbie (friends from Iowa / the rest of my midwest contingent) and Garrett, who grew up in Texas and is the most generous, curious, non-bro-like bro. Garrett brought three bottles of wine for the bus there (to get us in the Mendoza mood) and we made a shitshow by spilling the wine all over the seats/our clothes/the floor -- due not to intoxication, but rather a bumpy bus and "creative" bottle-opening methods resulting from lack of a corkscrew. The seats were roomier and more comfortable than airplane seats, though during the night I swear it couldn't have been more than 60 degrees on that bus. Mendoza's on the west side of the country (only like four hours from Chile) at the base of the Andes (heard of 'em?) so the last hour or so was made bearable by gawking at the mountains.

Taken from the bus; I have better pics but you have to wait until Days 2 and 3

We wasted no time after checking in at our hostel, and immediately left for Mendoza's infamous "bike and wine tour" -- basically for 25 pesos ($6), you're given a bike for the day and a map of 12 vineyards spread out in the town of Maipu (about 10 minutes from Mendoza, and the source of unabashed immature snickering "Maipu, el mejor lugar para vivir"). The vineyards all having tasting specials, ranging from free to 15 pes for 3 glasses. On the way, there's also an olive oil factory (FREE SAMPLES + BREAD) and a chocolate/liqueor house. What none of our predecessors told us is that the first and 11th vineyard are SEVEN MILES APART. We thought it'd be an ingenious plan to bike to the end and make our way back, but time (we started at 1pm and the vineyards close at 6:30) and the effort exerted to bike down miles of bumpy roads worked against us. The "bike" ended up outweighing the "wine," and in the end, we visited just three vineyards and the chocolate house. It felt like a go-see challenge on ANTM, in which we had to make a good impression at as many vineyards as possible but still make it back in time. A go-see challenge that gives the models a really sore butt at the end of the day.

So for future ref -- if you go to Mendoza and want to get drunk on the bike and wine tour, stay in a concentrated area of vineyards and start early in the morning. STILL, the sun was out all day, most of the bike ride was gorgeous, and we got a special tour of the processing area in one of the vineyards. We found out how they make Malbec (and Rose, did you know Rose just has less time with the skin? did you know I still don't remember how to make accent marks on the computer?).

Chock-full of vino tinto

Garrett leads the long ride home

I mean we did drink some wine.

We then went out to dinner at a parrilla (meat meat meat), had more wine, and chilled with other people from the hostel. Buenos Aires is all about "going out" all the time, and it was kind of nice to be in a city where things close at midnight and cars put less effort into running over pedestrians. The city has only about 150,000 people, so that's a BIT of a difference as well from BsAs's 13 mill.

Tomorrow: the most gorgeous hot springs you ever did see.

MALBA and face-licking

Yesterday Road2Argentina (still hate the name) organized a trip to see the new Andy Warhol exhibit at the MALBA (Museo de Arte Latinamericano de Buenos Aires). I've been an embarrassingly huge slacker about going to museums (Baird would be so disappointed in me) and I've been dying to see both the museum and the exhibit so I RSVP'd for the free entrance/tour yesterday. Turns out Wednesdays are always free and the tour was a 70-person pared-down visit in Spanish; since I can't understand foreign languages through a microphone and hate being told what art to look at when, I peaced to explore on my own.

I was actually very impressed by the MALBA; it's tiny but full of gems. Warhol was Warhol, which is to say awesome but dripping everywhere with pretensiousness. The title of the exhibit was 'Mr. America' and the walls included a bunch of quotes (The museum had rooms of the Marilyns and the soup cans, a collection of his polaroids/photostrips of famous people, and several videos (including the controversial 'Blow Job,' a 35-minute film of a man's face while supposedly receiving one. Hey Mom).
The actual museum is contemporary Latin-American art, which means it has a large collection of odd works (Rye, I thought of you multiple times). Some of my faves:

The Disasters of Mysticism by Matta

Look at this Spaghetti Bench! It winds through two stories! I miss woodworking!

You can't tell but this is a huge collage - FOUND OBJECTS, so many kinds!

You flip a switch and these circles spin!

MALBA also houses that really famous painting of Frida Kahlo with a monkey and a parrot.

Last night I went to Desnivel, which is supposedly the best greasy-spoon parrilla (steak place) in the city and was indeed AMAHZING - got a huge ribeye soaked in garlic with fries and a bottle of wine for 44 pesos ($12). Then I experienced a healthy dose of Argentine saliciousness at a club called Museo(/Museum, locals seem to call it Museum and foreigners Museo, go figure.) Wednesdays are an infamous after-hours party that starts early (10pm! for Portenos that's like noon) and is, I would guess, comprised of 75% men. No, maybe 85. They are mostly in suits, which is a fun little added bonus, but they are also extremely aggressive. I had hands touching my face and hair and creeping under the straps of my dress etc, and my friend Eliana actually had her face licked. To their credit, if ignored or given a firm no, Argentine men will quit the pursuit. The club, in the end, was a nice confidence boost and an interesting experience but a bit too much for me. It also had terrible music (think Shania Twain followed by Depeche Mode).

I am about to go for a run before teaching a class at 5:00 (it's 87 degrees at the mo, so we'll see how I do) but I'll post more soon. xo!

Drink All-Day-Day (Argentina vers.)

Today is the futbol match between Boca Jrs. and River Plate, the two most popular Argentine football teams -- something like 70% of futbol fans support one or the other. Boca is supposed to represent the lower/middle class fans and River Plate is nicknamed Los Millonarios. River has historically kicked Boca's ass, but this year Boca is supposedly a better team so we'll seeeee.

Basically, it's a game for which everyone in the city is extremely pumped, and an excuse for all the Portenos to get drunk in the early afternoon. Seriously, people were drinking beers all over the place while walking down the street at 11 in the morning (no rules about that in this city). I walked in my pajamas into the living room at 10 and my housemates going to the game were finishing off their first forties. Sometimes Buenos Aires makes me miss college.

Le Tigre

(Actually, in Spanish it'd be El Tigre, and the town doesn't even have an article before it, but get it? The ref? @Sarah?)

Today I took a day trip to Tigre, which Wikipedia labels "an important tourist and weekend attraction" just one train ride (costing 2.70 pesos aka 75 cents round-trip) away from Buenos Aires. It's at the mouth of the Parana Delta, which flows quite a way through Northern Argentina. Tigre is a small, obviously vacation-y town with quaint streets (food's cheaper than in the big city) and artisan fairs everywhere and a large amusement park. The Parana River itself is actually the dirtiest, the water is brown and full of trash, but as long as you don't look too closely, it's pretty enough.

I went with four girls from my house -- Becky, Debbie, Candida and Shreya. The girls made healthy snack packs for each of us with dry roasted edamame (CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW GOOD THIS IS, unfortunately it was not bought here) and granola bars. Candida is one of the most outgoing people on the planet, and also fluent in Spanish, so when some street-urchin sisters tried to sell us calendars on the train, she asked them instead to play games. We spent the rest of the hour-long train ride playing quack-didioso and bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish (not an actual game, it turns out, as it requires zero skill). The girls' names were Tatiana and Claudi, and Becky ended up buying them empanadas and giving them her Diet Coke when we got off the train.After walking around for a little while (we bought churros, full of dulce de leche and cold but still good all the damn time) and taking 9827576 pictures, we bought a lancha (boat) tour of the river. We had the boat to ourselves and had our picture taken by the cell phone of the sketchy driver. The river has gorgeous homes on both sides, and small canals function as streets and alleyways. Most of the houses are brightly-painted (that's one thing I love about here) and though I think most are vacation homes, we saw some people sitting out on their docks. The sun set while we were on the boat and the driver played an Ace of Base CD to set the mood for the hour-long ride.

Tigre, we decided, feels like a strange mix of different world locations. The town insisted on building German-looking architectural structures, there's the very Americanized theme park thrown in, the only way to get to residences is by boat (channeling Venice), and the trees sometimes hang low over the dirty, dirty water like one would expect in New Orleans. As we walked back to the train, this one bridge over the lit-up river reminded me even of NoFo a little bit.

Anyway, we got delicious wafflins (crepes but on a stick, filled with dulce de leche [as everything here is] and dipped in chocolate) before heading back. We were less fortunate on the way home and got half-seats (or ass-seats, basically you stand with grooves to lean your butt) but were entertained by a self-labeled 'rock' musician who played the harmonica and guitar and sang a Spanish version of "Thank God I'm a Country Boy." Pretty cute day overall, and made me even more excited for future weekend trips (Mendoza! Patagonia! Salta!) to Argentine towns that end in A.

Prom

Last night a few girls in my house chaperoned an Argentine high school prom as a part of their internship. The prom went from 1:30am-6:00am on a Tuesday night during a school week, was held at a club, and served drinks for students and their parents during the first two hours. An early morning they'll never forget.

Regarding Ice Cream

(Or, The First of Many Food Posts)
Um can we talk about what I ate for breakfast this morning? All this! for 10 pesos (about $2.75) at the sunny little cafe on the corner. Suck it, Starbucks.

Also, I live across the street from an heladeria (ice cream store) called Modena - may it be noted that in Argentina they have by far the most delicious ice cream I've ever eaten. No but REALLY. And so many flavors! About 12 chocolate variations, about 12 dulce de leche variations (con bombom/con brownie/tentacion [just more caramel]), marscapone, tiramisu, tramontana, crema de flan, crema de almendras, fruits, and probably 20 other names I cannot pronounce. Servings come in 7 peso two-scoops to 40 peso kilos. I'm slowly making my way through the menu (they allow trying before buying, but I haven't run across a flavor that didn't elicit an instinctual verbal reaction of pleasure), working hard not to buy helado every day.

I'm pretty sure the 20-odd Americans living in the RoadHouse (we take the "2" out in colloquial speech, thank God) keep Modena in business. At any given time, the living room has three or four empty Modena cups. Tonight was game night, and our "gambling" consisted of throwing in a peso for the spoons winner to buy a 7-peso Modena. Luckily, Candida (the epitome of joyful/loveable California girl) won, and Adrian (the ice cream server, we're on a first-name basis) gave her a half-kilo to share -- it's now the Copa Mundial and sitting on our mantel for the weekly gamewinner to refill with his/her chosen flavor.

Aaaaaaaaaand there's a three-paragraph post about ice cream. So you can be assured I haven't changed.

TEFL

I taught my first class today y'all!
The way this course I'm taking works is that I go to class from 10am-5pm (with like three 15 minute breaks and an hour for lunch in the middle) on Monday through Wednesday. On Thursday and Friday I have only the beginning half, then teach a class in the evening. The classes are free (they'd have to be wouldn't they) and adults from the neighborhood come in. We're allowed to make an hour's curriculum on any topic we want, so for the learners there's absolutely no continuity between classes. Today I taught about "using the future tense predictions and promises" -- promises were NOT easy to grasp (I got a few "I will to promise that children go to park" phrases) but the six people in the class were very sweet - one said he hoped I was his teacher next week (we rotate with beginner/intermediate/advanced levels, so it's unlikely) and an old woman gave me candy (toffee -- turns out old women are the same everywhere).

The people in my class are fantastic; two girls from Oregon who've been working in Ecuador for the last year, a Dutch woman who's living with her boyfriend, a very sweet guy from Jersey and Charles, who lives in my house and loves.to.party. The class itself seems kind of like a necessary evil; the certificate will be invaluable in finding work here or in any other country, but learning about "why we teach grammar" can be a bit dry. We usually get let out early though, and the classroom is actually downstairs and out the door from my place so I can't complain too much.

This morning I tried to find a cafe to do work before class. Half of the places I went to weren't open yet and no other one had wifi. I finally got sick of getting shot down when asking "tenes wifi?" and just sat down with a cafe con leche and some medialunas to watch out the window. Tomorrow I have to go somewhere at 8:30 and I'm almost afraid the busses won't be running yet.

I swear I SWEAR I'll take some pictures soon, and can someone for the love of all that is holy comment on one of these posts so I don't get insecure?

This is Argentina

I just came back (12:47am) from having a steak dinner / french fries / bottle of wine at a v. nice restaurant for the equivalent of $13 USD. I almost stopped for ice cream on the way home at the place that was still open on the street outside my house but exercised self-control instead.

Also, my landlord chose this time to start building a bedframe two rooms down.

DAY 3

HIII
I'm safe, I'm healthy, I'm living in a house with 30 people (no joke // only four to my room though). I haven't had the steak yet but I've had ice cream every day and a wonderful empanada with sweet beef in it for a buck. The exchange rate is better than I thought (4pesos to the dollar instead of 3!) but things also cost more pesos than I remember, so I'm still trying to be thrifty. I went out with some housemates Saturday night -- they chose an American bar called the Alamo where the LSU game was playing and everybody was a bro. I wouldn't have gone there IRL but I wanted to "make friends" and "be social" so I stayed out and did those things. I almost definitely will not go back. No, actually definitely. On the plus, booze at the grocery store is super cheap -- Stella 40s for a dollar, bottles of wine n' rum for $2.

FASHION REPORT: it's in the high sixties but people insist on wearing scarves, down coats, and boots. And always jeans. Like, what? I brought 10 dresses and look stocky in scarves so this fashion style better change with the impending summer. Every very hipster boy with the potential to be cute has a bad haircut (rattails and mullets abound) and the girls are all very skinny and gorgeous (fun fact: Argentina has the #1 anorexia rate in the world). People here unabashedly sunbathe everywhere; I went for a run today in a park -- everything smelled like meat and I took a 20-minute tanning break. Maybe one of my top five fave runs ever.

Also, Buenos Aires thinks it's a real funny joke to say that things are open more than 24 hours: like every other kiosko has a sign that says "OPEN 25 HOURS" and I walked past an internet cafe that said it offers computers 27 hours a day. It's even funnier because many of these places are not open.

I started my TEFL class today - it's small but full of good people and I will write in more detail about it in a different post. Also, pictures. Also, maybe thoughts that are deeper than these. Undoubtedly miss you!

Not as cleverly-titled as "Leah in Rio"

But Argentina isn't really a slant rhyme to anything. Neither is South America. And Leah does not lend itself to great refs nearly as well as Erika does (livinonaprayerika is still one of my favorite jokes).

So at the end of my time in Rio last summer, I flew to Buenos Aires, where I spent five days in very good company eating ice cream in cemetaries and losing pesos on dance floors and falling in love with the city. After making the decision last year not to apply to law school right out of college, I came back to the pipe dream of living in BsAs. If not now, when or teach a man to fish or whatever, right? So about three months ago I bought a one-way ticket to Argentina.

I'm enrolled in a month-long TEFL/TOEFL course to first nab the certification that facilitates teaching abroad. The company teaching the course guarantees job placement (which could very well be 10 hrs a week of private tutoring, but still) so I'll have someplace to work once I finish the course. I plan after that to apply to bilingual primary schools for the February-starting school year (precocious children > stuffy businessmen) and/or to improve my Spanish and see if dual fluency couldn't land me a real job.

I'll be staying for this month in student housing provided by the class, affiliated with the oh-so-cloyingly named Road2Argentina (R2A / see address on right) and after that looking for a room in a shared apartment, ideally with a mix of young professional Argentinians and other friendly ex-pats. Ideally with a private balcony and a comfortable double bed and ideally under 1000 pesos a month. Ideally.

So there's a dry beginning post about what's going down. I'm getting ready for a four-airport day tomorrow (Mpls - O'Hare - Dulles - BsAs), made completely conscious by Lost of details like what to wear on the plane (remember how Claire had that black miniskirt on for the entire first season? That was so impractical) and loading episodes of Mad Men for the waits. I'll miss you all (no but seriously let's Skype/gchat/@least email?) and I'll include pictures to make the next blog post more interesting.