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.