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!