Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Music Update: Tango Electronica

I got de-nied! Yep, asking for what I really wanted didn't yield great results... but I asked. And felt empowered. So now I'm starting from Base 1 and trying again, and dreaming again, and... trusting.

Here's my music plug: while in Buenos Aires, I met tango electronica. It's amazing - it has the passion of tango, rythms of hip hop and house, and the creativity of Sigur Ros or Album Leaf. My favorites:

Bajofondo : profile.myspace.com/bajofondomardulce/
Gotan Project: profile.myspace.com/gotanproject/
Tangheto: profile.myspace.com/tanghettospace/

Each is a bit different - Bajofondo and Gotan Project are the most well-known and most listened-to... They're amazing.

Enjoy! Also check them out in Youtube...

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Asking for the stars

If you could do ANYTHING in your life, what would you do?

I know, cliched question. One for which I never have an answer. You've probably already blown it off. (Am I right or am I right?)

Within the past few months, I've had to stand and bravely face THE question. I've faced it, but bravery hasn't shown through as much as fear. I'm in this point in life that I literally can take steps in any direction I want. More than ever before, I feel the walls of expectation backing off. Not surprising, I am the builder of the walls; I've constructed them of others' voices --- instead of my own desires, and my own voice.

To find my voice, I've been dreaming a lot and confronting stifling fear. Key to confronting this fear has been asking for the stars and the moon. I have been pushed and challenged to ASK for my dreams. I don't know if I've ever done that... it's this selfish-feeling complex I have. But I've done it - at least twice. It is so FREEING.

There's an organization I've dreamed about for months; I would give anything to work there. I know they don't have much money, and would never dream of them paying me to work there. I decided I would at least ask if it were possible to WORK there. Perhaps I could get grant money. For months I've been terrified to ask in case they say no. So this week I had a roommate hold me accountable to writing them. Yesterday I had a professor proofread my letter. She said, "Megan, where's your second question?"

"What second question?"

"If you don't get grant money, if they'd give you a small amount so you could survive. Write it."

I stopped and stared at her. "I can ask for that?"

I walked out of her office feeling so hopeful. I'll probably get turned down, but I'm ALLOWED to ask for my dreams. I'm supposed to. Incredible. My deepest yearnings are placed in me by God, so they're His/Her deepest desires as well... so I'm responsible for pursuing them... that's beautiful.

What have you been thinking about lately? What are some of your deepest desires? Do you give them the time and respect and voice they deserve? Try going out on a limb and asking if you can do something (even a small something) that you've always dreamed of... even if you're turned down, the action of asking is liberating. just liberating.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

collecting pieces of the world

Audience participation: Prepare yourself. Ready. and begin.

Recall one of the most beautiful landscapes you've been in. Or recall a lively and fun moment with a loved one. Can you remember the scents of the moment? the sights of the moment? what sounds your ears recorded? how you felt during it? what thoughts it conjured in you?

In moments that I want to capture and remember forever, or experiences during which I want to be fully present, I do Moment Grabbing.

My camera was stolen/lost three weeks into my Sudamerica trip. So I started memorizing scenes, landscapes, and experiences. People always say, "That's awful about your camera," and while yes, photos would be great, I'm somewhat grateful. Instead of a computer folder with hundreds of photos, I am filled and bursting with this beauty I memorized: of private lagoons and wild blackberry stained fingers, of volcanoes and mountain rivers, of the surprisingly un-awkward chatting between tangos, of musty wooden floors and dancing snapping fingers.

So next time you want to memorize a moment, or just be fully present in it, try this: silence yourself. let yourself fully understand that you are THERE. present. nowhere else. let your gaze rest on one aspect of the scene. memorize it. close your eyes to test yourself. stay there until it's perfectly real behind closed eyes. do this until all sights are captured. next close your eyes and memorize the smell. make a metaphor to help you describe it. let the noise hit you, let your body absorb it, and tuck it away. notice the emotions and thoughts that arise in you as you fully live in that one moment. then make sure you can mentally recreate it.

viola. you now have another piece of the world inside you.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

"It ended with the pork chops"

"#$%&!!!!" I moaned.
"Do you want to punch something?" my roommate asked.
"No. I want to do this," and I plopped down onto the hardwood floor in her doorway. "This is me defeated."

I had just worked over an hour on an important document, and it was deleted. My roommate came over and stretched out across the floor on her stomach, "This is my defeated posture." She has been fighting with the "the world is too big and messy to even attempt to fix it" problem that social work majors often face (and those of us who aren't social work majors, too). A third roomie walked in minutes later with a I'm-completely-drained expression. "Wanna show us your defeated posture?" I asked. She sprawled behind me in the hallway and leaned on my back. "I am tired. My friend didn't thank me for the pork chop dinner I made. And coffee is awful." She had just watched the documentary Black Gold at a Fair Trade House Party.

So we sat. Defeated.

And during our defeated-on-the-hardwood-floor time, we discussed how our education system is screwed up. We are taking FASCINATING classes, and have no time to process them. My Society & Religion class is incredibly stimulating. I could learn it so thoroughly if I had time to debate it with my friends over a cup of non-awful coffee. It's not an issue of time management, but an issue of having to take 15-18 hours of classes at the same time - each of them mind-boggling and challenging. And honestly, I've left most classes without retaining much. What IS college for? The diploma? I would like to think it deeply challenges and expands my intellect and view of the world (and it does, for sure.) but it has so much dormant potential!!!

Related to being defeated and growing, check this out: GENERATION Q

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9A07E2D71E3DF933A25753C1A9619C8B63

It's been circulating among my friends... we're processing it... and what it means for us...

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Dorky, adjusted, high diving me

There's so much intense movement within me... I can't follow it or express it well... so in typical me-style blog, little things about life I've figured out and one or two of lo mas profundo (the more deep things):

**DORKY ACADEMIC THOUGHTS
I'm working on this huge senior history research paper, and two thoughts have sprung from it: #1. I am SUCH a digital generation kid. TODAY was the first day of my life that I used a card catalog. I learned at age 21 years, 10 months, and 14 days how to use a card catalog. Incredible. #2. I don't know if you have opinions on Census data, but to encourage you: fill out the 2010 Census!! As fully as possible. I am using 1920 and 30 Census data, and it. is. amazing. I'm convinced they are a gift to historians and to humanity!! *laugh.

**Being CREATIVE
Head's up for the year: thought-space is going to be filled with the exploration of creativity as a concept, and my creativity. While reflecting this past week, I thought of creative venues that I had as a kid, but left to the side in the past decade. When I realized I could still explore them and live in them, I instantly felt this freedom and confidence. It was as if the walls around me took a few steps back. And I'm working on demolishing those walls.

**ADJUSTMENT
Not until this past week have I finally re-adjusted (mostly) to U.S. living, and to the reality that my life is HERE now. It took me TEN WEEKS. That's ridiculous. That's what it took to adjust INTO Buenos Aires, a place I had never ever been before. Transitions fascinate me.

**SCARY THOUGHT
Do any of you have a list of all the things you've ever been excited to do during your lifetime? And is it an ACTION list? I've been slowly compiling this list in my head for years now, and I'm getting close to writing it down. But I'm scared. Because I know that once my list becomes concrete, material, my life is never going to be... Well, it's just going to be crazy. And fun. And risky. And colorful. Why would I be scared about that? I don't know *shrug. But it's intimidating. It's like when I told all my friends in sixth grade (I wasn't the young daredevil child) I would go off the high dive; I knew once I climbed that ladder, I had to do it. Ready....

I'll let you know when I say the g-word. It's not yet...

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Sacred Newness

Thoughts from recent life moments:

** In my Religion and Society class, we're discussing the difference between the sacred and the profane. While lying in the sun, which had colored Lake Michigan a bright turquoise, I realized that much of my outlook on life stems from my very blurred opinions of sacred/profane; I think almost every part of "the profane" has elements of the sacred. Whether that's correct or not, I like it. It makes living more beautiful.
** Thought on being bilingual: it's so fun to have two different language/thought/concept libraries to choose from!! Except when I can't express one concept into another language... haha!
** Tonight I was with a friend who described coming back as entering a "new reality." It's true. And that's why it's so strange: it's the same reality I left, but it's suddenly turned new! Another friend once said, "Megan, it's like re-meeting every one, every situation. Really, we should re-meet people each time we see them, to acknowledge the space in which they have grown." I'm doing a lot of re-meeting, re-entry, and newness.
** While away, I lived at the edge of my potential each day. In a way, life is sooo much easier here than it was there -- I am not exhausted by speaking, listening, or being constantly stimulated by a different culture. Sometimes I want the daily, normal things to liven up! *laugh.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Beginning anew...

My blog is going through an early-life crisis: although the intention of my blog was not to write about travel, the bulk of my writing has been inspired by the past seven months of life abroad and my re-entry into the States. However, now that life has returned to “normal” (o lo que sea), I’ve had a difficult time deciding whether or not to continue blogging. Here are my issues: Who am I that I should put my life and thoughts up for the world to read? Why should I expect that people want to read my thoughts? I don’t offer a space for controversial discussions about politics, religion, etc. (I think those things should instead be discussed at dinner tables and parties!) I don’t want to enter the crowd of people “searching for intimacy in any form possible,” as I read in some TIME magazine. I've been stuck.

After speaking with a few people who know me very well and who are very straightforward (great attributes for people who help guide my life), I’ve decided to continue and let the blog develop as it will. I’ve loved writing; I’ve loved having an outlet for writing; and having this space motivates me to write better than I would in my own journals. And I like that. Regardless of whether this is read or not.

So. Let us continue with the games of life. And with the words they stir and incite…

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Seeking space...

Discoveries of the week:

** My superhero weakness is laughter. So if you want to defeat my physical strength, make me laugh really hard. I’ll be done.
** Growing up, saying “I’m bored” was the same as cussing. Mom told us it was a ridiculous word. I like that. She recognized that “boredom” was only space filled with potential creative inspiration. Some of my favorite, most beautiful, and fun moments have been born in boredom.
** Beautiful quote from C.G. Jung: “Self-knowledge. To this question there is a positive answer only when the individual is willing to fulfill the demands of rigorous self-examination and self-knowledge. If he does this, he will not only discover some important truths about himself but will also have gained a psychological advantage: he will have succeeded in deeming himself worthy of serious attention and sympathetic interest. He will have set his hand, as it were, to a declaration of his own human dignity…”
** I’ve been thinking a lot about space. Let me explain: I think each individual carries this essence that can be, in a way, felt. And this essence holds a person’s own greatness. And it takes up space. (That’s the only way I can express it…) Multiple times in life I’ve felt suffocated, like I had no space to let my greatness be… great. The other night, during a long conversation with a friend, I was reminded of all that I am, of all my dreams, and of all that I am capable. I left feeling empowered. confident. hopeful. And free. I want to do that -- to more intentionally speak with others so as to recognize their greatness, and to help them become aware of the space they have to be great.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

The impossible fight

Megan-in-transition characteristic: I have a hard time making myself go to bed. I have this impossible idea that if I don't go to sleep, tomorrow will never come - that as long as I'm awake, change won't happen. So I just don't go to bed.

Ridiculous, I know. But it happens. A lot. And it's happened for years and years; I remember nights in high school that I stayed up super-late, putting off the morning's transitions (so it seemed). And that's how the past few weeks have been. It's not that I want to return right now, or that I don't want what's in the future, but the re-adjustment is really...duro...difficult. Usually I'm ready for change - bring it! - and I like overcoming it and adapting to it, but I've had to take this change really slowly and gently. And without much sleep. :)

When traveling through northern Argentina and dreading leaving, I made a list of things I was looking forward to in Chicago. And sometimes when I don't want to go to bed, I made similar lists about life in general. :) The Chitown list:
-- Running on the lakefront: being able to run for as long as I possibly can while seeing and hearing the water the whole time.
-- Doing normal life with friends. As much as I loved living with a family in a "home", I missed having friends around for daily life - walking to the grocery store, doing homework, eating breakfast...
-- Laughing so hard with my roommates that tears stream down my cheeks
-- Being around people who enjoy and play off of my playfulness -- I didn't find anyone who could match my playfulness... I've been dying!
-- Being able to incorporate a bit of argentine life into my normal life - meriendas, living simply, late-night dinners, looooong conversations...
-- The challenge of maintaining the ways I've changed while in the place of my "life before".

And I think I've mustered up enough... whatever it takes to decide to go to bed. *smile. May you be sleeping well...

Monday, August 13, 2007

What does his voice sound like?

I am inspired to post one of my favorite parts of The Little Prince (el Principito)... I can't sleep soooo... I'm writing. As always... :) May you enjoy.

"If I've told you these details about Asteroid B-612 and if I've given you its number, it is on account of the grown-ups. Grown-ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. They never ask: 'What does his voice sound like?' 'What games does he like best?' 'Does he collect butterflies?' They ask: 'How old is he?' 'How many brothers does he have?' 'How much does he weigh?' 'How much money does his father make?' Only then do they think they know him."
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Friday, August 10, 2007

El reencuentro parte 2

One week ago tonight I arrived in the States, and while I have stopped un-knowingly speaking in Spanish and looking at people surprised when they speak to me in English, there are many things that are still very strange to me... I want to write about this because coming into my home country with fresh eyes -- it's an experience that does not happen often. And because I like learning about myself -- how I transition/deal with transitions, and also seeing little by little how I've changed...

Funny moments/reoccuring themes:
-- Yesterday I was at the gym and saw a friend from high school. I was excited to see him and, as I have done for the past six months, went to kiss him on the cheek. RIGHT before I kissed him, I realized what I was doing, and saved myself by giving him an awkward hug. Shoot... haha.
-- I still don't understand that it's SUMMER here. It's so weird to me that it's over 100F (about 40C) every day, and I can't understand that my family is swimming in our pool, and that friends of siblings are coming over to spend the night for nights on end... I KNOW it's summer, but it just seems WEIRD. A week ago I was in gloves and shivering and there was no green-ness anywhere!
-- Every time my family eats, I'm totally thrown off. Lunch at noon? Dinner at 6? Aren't you a few hours early?? That can't be right...we're missing a meal! What happened to the merienda? (afternoon tea)
-- Wednesday at Barnes and Noble, some woman gave me 15.93 exactly in change. When she handed me the coins, I stopped and stared at them and thought, "Why is she not hoarding her change?! Is she crazy? How DOES she have all that change??" And then I realized I was in the US. I no longer have to fight people for coins. There are more than enough in circulation...

And how I feel? Hmmm... that IS the question. Today and yesterday were difficult days because reality is hitting me that this isn't just vacation; I'm not going to wake up some morning and walk downstairs to argentine kisses and tea. And I miss the people and the familiarity of Buenos Aires. And Chicago and Carbondale know nothing, nothing, nada of Buenos Aires... and that feeling is... not so great. Oh, transition... it makes us stronger, no?

Sunday, August 5, 2007

El reencuentro

.... [speechlessness]....

I don't know where to start, what to say, how I feel... I'm back in the States; back in my So. Ill. home; very very far away (on many levels) from Buenos Aires and life/home there. So strange... Here are a few thoughts/moments of the past two days:

When I ordered water I didn't have to specify "tap water" AND it came with ice. Milanesas and empanadas weren't on the menu. When I heard KT Tunstall on the radio, I imagined Argentine friends singing it and I had a really confused moment. The night air is rich with the scent of summer: it reminds me of moon chases, ice cream outside, late night walks, fireflies, and capture the flag games. My 14-yr. brother told me he had his life figured out: he's going to win the lottery at age 19 and build a monument of himself. When I have sad moments, I only want hugs from BsAs people, and that's quite impossible. I have laughed non-stop with my siblings. People drink HUGE coffees here -- way over caffeinated. Americans have so much STUFF (me included) -- before I lose this simple-living mindset, I'm cleaning out my room! Extrano castellano tanto... Capitalism is out of control here; I miss fruterias and little neighborhood stores. I refuse to think ahead -- but being present is no good either -- and I can't go back... I'm quite stuck. And this too shall pass...

Beautiful things: It's wonderful to be around a language that knows me so intimately. I had forgotten how verbally affirming and encouraging my friends and family are... I have missed their words so much and it has been like a soul massage to receive them once again; I forgot how much words impact me -- someone can say, "Megan, I think you are great," and it's the best part of my week (haha). With my family, it's like I left yesterday. We went out to lunch when I got off the plane, and at the end of the prayer before the meal, my siblings, exasperated, exclaimed, "It's about time you got home. We can stop praying for you! We've prayed for you at EVERY meal." (Way to be cheerful pray-ers, guys. haha.)

To end: Mom has this quote on our refridge: "courage does not always roar. sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "i will try again tomorrow." I think that courage got me through the past six months, and the same will get me through the transition back into life here...

**soundtrack of entry -- denison witmer**

Monday, July 23, 2007

Travel highlights!

I haven't been keeping up on my blog the past few weeks so this will be a long one!! Here are some topic titles so you can pick and choose what to read...

1) Where we've been
2) Eye of the Hurricane
3) Amaicha: La Pachamama and God
4) Angastaco: Marcelino's homemade wine
5) Tilcara: Oranges Paraguay-style
6) Random

1) Where we've been
For those of you following me on a map, we went from Buenos Aires to: Córdoba, Villa General Belgrano, Embalse Rio Tercero, Tafi del Valle, Amaicha/Quilmes, Angastaco, Cachi, Cafayate, Purmamarca, Tilcara (now) and then to Santiago, Chile on Wednesday night.

2) EYE OF THE HURRICANE
After climbing mountains in the sun all day, Katie and I sat, exhausted, to take a late merienda (afternoon tea). Katie looked at me and said, "I feel like I'm in the eye of a hurricane. Like everything is chaos emotionally around me, but where I am, everything is so still that it's creepy. And I know that chaos is coming." I'm there, too. I'm stuck inbetween wanting to be alone and with people, wanting to be home in BA and home in Carbondale, wanting to be known and wanting to hide... Ohhh, transitions... Yes, chaos is coming, but I know that where I am is good -- in that it's another chance to form a new life that fits the person I've become in the past six months.

3) AMAICHA: La Pachamama and God
In Amaicha we visited the Quilmes ruins, a pueblo from 900 CE -1667 CE where the native people resisted the Spanish for 130 years by literally living on the side of a mountain(completely impressive). Sebastián, our guide, is a native of the area and also explained to us his belief (and that of the people of Quilmes) of the La Pachamama - "Mother Earth." The people draw their energy from what they have: the sun, the land, and what the earth gives them. Since talking with him, this beautiful spirituality has deeply impacted me. So often I look to the future or to something man-made or to memories to give me energy and life, when if I draw energy and life from what is present and what I have, perhaps I too could carry the grace, calm and peace that Sebastian carries. Also, the idea of the La Pachamama has allowed me to meet a part of God that I haven't before, and once again I was struck by how I can't define Him, I can't box Him in, and He's so much more than I can imagine...

4) ANGASTACO: Marcelino's homemade wine
While in Cafayate, we met a guy who said, "You should go visit my friend Marcelino. He has a farm outside the village of Angastaco and a little vineyard. It's super tranquil." He wrote "Marcelino. La Escondida." on a scrap piece of paper and off we went to find this hidden vineyard. We arrived in the middle of NOWHERE at this 70 year old man's humble house, and immediately pulled up chairs to help him pull the stems from raisins. We borrowed the neighbor's horse, and I rode without a saddle behind Katie through all the vineyards... my first time on a horse. Good times. I kept saying, "Katie, are you SURE you've ridden before??" It was beautiful to fall into a house and be so welcomed, and it was so fun to see what life in a TINY pueblo is like.

5) TILCARA: Oranges Paraguay-style
Yesterday we landed in Tilcara, a small pueblo surrounded by mtns. We quickly befriended (or he befriended us) Miguel, a 37 yr. old Paraguayan who has lived in Tilcara for the past 3 months. He is super out-going and immediately said, "Meet me in the plaza in an hour to take a hike and then take mate." We spent the rest of our time in Tilcara with him -- drinking mate, talking about life and culture, laughing, and getting to know tons of locals through him. Both nights in Tilcara, we went to this Peña (live folklore music) and hung out with the musicians, one of whom is 74 and has ridden a bike from Ushuia (southern most city in the world) to Alaska. He is one crazy Argentine. All the tourists were like, "Who ARE these northamerican girls that get shout-outs from these old men musicians and know the owner of the restaurant?" haha. Yesterday Miguel came with us for an 8 hour day of hiking, and at one point while chilling in the sun in front of a waterfall, he taught us to peel oranges paraguayan-style. (Man! I have so many more skills now! haha)

6) RANDOM
We traveled for a week with 3 super fun and chill Argentine girls we met... From Angastaco to Cachi we hitch-hiked in two different pickup trucks through the mountains (shh! don't tell my mom! haha)... I am ridiculously addicted to hiking mountains; I want a mtn. in my backyard that changes form each day so I can hike whenever I want... I day-dream of sleeping under blankets of llama wool... Llama meat is super tasty (yep, look at my resourcefulness! - wool, meat - haha)... I wasn't a huge beer fan - until I tried artesanal beer in Gen. Belgrano -- cerveza roja? I'm in... In Purmamarca we climbed these cerros (smaller mtns.) that had so many colors that the ground was like a rainbow. We counted 9 colors from violet to yellow to green to pink... In Amaicha we hung out at a peña in the Bar on the Corner (original, huh?) and Katie and I were the only girls who knew how to dance folklore! We put the argentines to shame, dancing their native dance... AND life is good. How I love random adventures like this...

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

It snowed in Buenos Aires yesterday. For the first time since 1918.

It was beautiful snow, too: fluffy, big snowflakes that my sister and I caught on our tongues, shrieking with delight and dancing. People leaned out of apartment building windows to feel the snow; camera flashes lit up other windows as people attempted to document the first white sky in almost ninety years. My porteña mom and my sisters giggled and ran up to our terrace to see the sky, and an argentine friend repeated all night, "Beyond imagination..." It was beautiful. And so fun to see all of the excitement...

I have officially left Buenos Aires... es medio raro... de hecho, es muy raro... (it's kinda strange... actually, it's really strange...) I'm a mess of emotions and thoughts and memories and hopes and regrets and... a mess. But the past week was wonderful: I accomplished all the important things on my list, and had an amazing time with my family in the campo this past weekend = countless games of UNO, argentine tag and hide 'n go seek, homemade popcorn, movies, tea, laughter until tears, fireplaces and hugs...

Random things: In Argentina, Daffy Duck is called Pato Lucas. I still die of laughter each time someone says that. I have an illegal middle name according to Argentine standards (there's a list of legal names). My goal of next winter is to learn how to ice skate backwards. This whole concept of consciously falling in love with a city that I know I will leave still confounds me. Even Argentines are astounded by my lack of American movie knowledge. (That's awful.) The only way I can live in a city my whole life is if I have a campo. When I'm tired or cry, my eyes get greener... the two together make for super-green-Megan eyes.

The end. (haha)

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Peacein´ out of the BA...

To do list before Monday (when I leave BsAs):

--practice the four folklore dances I just learned
--go to a milonga of tango electronica (like techno tango music!)
--see my dreaded bandoneon player with La orquestra típica Fernandez Fierro
--dance party with my sisters
--red wine with family friend to charlar de history, politics, social activism and his life
--tomar cafe in Café de las Madres
--watch my little sisters' hiphop dance class
--buy red wine and dulce de leche
--rent and watch 2-3 Argentine films, one of which is Los Rubios
--buy lunfardo dictionary (underground, evolving slang of BsAs)
--learn to cook a few more peruvian dishes with Reina
--go for a long run through BsAs's incredible public space
--buy political and literary magazines
--say goodbye to the fruit men, Jose at the locutorio, my laundry lady, and my sister's best friend Martu
--watch Katie sing/play with folklore artists Sunday night
--hang out with mis amigos argentinos una vez más
--say goodbye WELL to my family Monday morning
--challenge myself to live as much as possible, as well as possible, and on as little amount of sleep possible until Monday.

Y... va! (And... go!)

Monday, July 2, 2007

Una ciudad en un pueblo

While BsAs is definitely a modern city, I have these moments when it seems that buildings and air pollution and public transportation just fell into a little pueblo and caught it off guard. Life is extrememly neighborhood based, and relationships are así (thus/like that). I buy groceries, fruit and vegetables, bread, pasta, calling cards, go to the gym, fix my shoes, visit the laundress, and rent movies all within two small blocks of my house. Betty at the movie rental sends her son to pick up my movie after I finish it. Miguel carries the produce to our door. The cafe on the corner buys its bread from the panadería one block away, and the man carries it on his head in a basket. Random días the man on the opposite corner is selling brooms from the sidewalk, and at 9am and 4pm the street is filled with parents who walked to the school to walk their children home. The empanada place on my corner knows which types and how many I like, and I buy ice cream from Willie's Window. Even in the busiest part of the city, old men ride bicycles with baskets of steaming bread to bring it to their cafés, and friends yell across the streets at each other. And this feeling is one that I will miss tons...

Thursday, June 28, 2007

The Escape Artist -- Being Present

I am a very "present" person -- I don't anticipate much in life because I am usually so stuck and loving the present moment, that I forget/neglect to look ahead.

** TIME OUT TO MAKE EMPANADAS.** Heck yes, Argentina. Heck. yes.

Empanada update: Mine were good, but my little sister's were better. But -- seriously. She's argentine. She was born making empanadas.

Back to being present. Today I was in this awful mood -- one of those restless, mopey moods. And it had nothing to do with BsAs but all I could think about was how great it would be to be home. And I was seriously considering changing my flight and leaving So. Amer. Monday. And then while listening to Wonderwall on a colectivo, I realized that looking at life that way is no good. I shouldn't always think somewhere else is better... I don't want to live like an escape artist.

For the past three years, I've had "the other" place to idealize: while at home with problems, Loyola sounded great; while at Loyola with issues, home sounded better (at times). And I don't think that's healthy. So today I decided that although I want to run from BsAs, here I am. And I have to find something in this huge city that will help lift me from my funk. I can't wish I was in Chicago. So I put Chicago out of my head and turned to face this monster of a city, hoping it would gift me with something, and my mood changed in an instant. It didn't disappear, but there was a contentment that I had lacked before. It HAS to take care of me. And I have to let it.

Yay for being present...

Monday, June 18, 2007

Ah! No!!

So today while staring out the window of Colectivo #15(Bus), I had my first attack of "No! I can't leave yet! I don't want to!" I have three more weeks in the great BsAs before traveling northern Argentina, but being able to see the end so clearly scares the... well, it scares me a lot. I believe in living well through any transition, and in doing transitions well, but with this one... I don't want the transiton so I have no "ganas" (desire) to attempt it well. I want to suck the life out of the three weeks I have left -- I don't want to spend energy transitioning. There isn't enough time left for that.

So I'm stuck in this paradox, this contradiction... trying to ignore the daunting feelings of leaving while still living fully and well in the moments I have...

It hit me today that I am not scared to leave activities here -- tango, UBA, colectivo riding (although I will have moments when I return of wanting these things) -- but I am scared to leave the people and the culture. Me engancharon. They have hooked me. I want more pretty breakfasts with my sisters and Andrea. I want more four hour dinners and "sobremesas" with red wine (the after dinner time when you sit and talk for hours). I want more mate during heated class discussions. I want more walks to the frutería where the owners call me "linda" y "muñeca" (Pretty and Doll) and have my vegetables of choice ready before I ask. I'm already yearning for these things...

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

My Argentine Flair

So a few friends have excitedly said, "I can't wait to meet the new you! I can't wait to see how you've changed!" And in truth, I feel like I'm going to disappoint them; I really am still Megan, you'll definitely recognize me and fall right back into normal-life with me. However...

My best friend recently wrote me a letter and affirmed me as an Argentine-American, and as her friend with "Argentine flair." I laughed and decided to claim both. Here a few ways I've changed:
-- I keep my room clean (MOST of the time...)
-- I am more politically aware.
-- I dance tango.
-- I like coffee.
-- I'm kinda more trendy... (haha. I say that with some shy shame)
-- I like going out until unruly hours of the morning.
-- I eat slowly and sit down at a set table for each meal.
-- I can't go without afternoon teas.
-- (I still hate cats. During this email I have literally THROWN our cat Azul from the desk six times.)
-- I am a wait-er. I wait for conversation to loosen up so then real conversations can start and last until 2 or 3am; I wait without a working flusher and use a bucket because there is always SOMETHING that doesn't work; I wait for professors who come to class 29 minutes late. I'm more flexible and laid-back. Because if not, one would die with all the disfuncionality here (I can't spell English words anymore, as you can see).
-- I love a good red wine.
-- I appreciate simple living.
-- I don't speak or write English as well because either: Spanish comes out, or Spanish translations that don't work in English come out.
-- I take more risks and live more adventurously.
-- I'm more of free spirit than I was.
-- I speak with my hands AND my voice (very porteño).
-- I'm more confident.
-- And my life resume has lengthened at least 3 pages. haha.

Yay, Buenos Aires. There is an... cartel... shoot, what's the English translation? A... board with advertisements on the side of a road? Anyway. One ad right now says, "Buenos Aires, cada vez te veo, te quiero más." Buenos Aires, each time I see you, I love you more. It's true. It's so true.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Whose government is it??

I just read a bbc.com article about the issue of Attorney General Alberto Gonzales and the Congress no-confidence... check it out at bbc.com. I'm not here to comment on our president (directly) or US politics (at the moment), but something Mr. Bush said deeply disturbed me.

He said, "They can try to have their votes of no confidence, but it's not going to determine who serves in my government."

"MY government."

The government of the United States is just that: OF (aka belonging to) the United States. George W. Bush is serving US, the people. When someone claims a democratic government as their own, moreover when the leader claims it as his own... something is not right.

Now I know Bush knows its not his. However, I'm so aware of language used -- I think it often shows underlying beliefs/opinions. So the fact that Bush used "my"...

Two days later while editing the above "entrada":
But I don't just want this to be about Bush. Because that is unfair and self-righteous of me, and because I want to have hope for our government regardless the leader. So since I first sat to wrote this, I've been thinking a lot about what MY viewpoint of government is: Do I see it as OUR (aka including me?)? Do I take responsibility for it? What, really, does our government mean to me? So many questions...

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Memoria Abierta

I am currently working on a semester project, and it consists in comparing how people construct history differently, and what the construction of history entails. I have chosen to watch interviews from survivors of a certain detention center (the ESMA) from the Argentine dictatorship of the 1970s. I'm working with an organization called Memoria Abierta, that is documenting the history of the period, so far with over 500 interviews. I spent 12 hours in three days listening to four people speak, and I have a few more days to go before I am finished. It's exhausting, heart-breaking, fascinating, and question-inspiring.

Background: To make this short, between 1955-1983 there were three "golpes militares" (military overthrows of the elected government): 1955, 1962, 1976. While there was violence in each, the "Dirty War" happened in the last one. 30,000 people "disappeared" (= taken by the government and killed, the majority of the bodies never found). During the 1960s, there were many social changes as there were across the world, and the government thought the only way to suppress the activists and create order was to kill them. So they took them off of streets, out of schools, out of factories, out of their homes, brought them to concentration camps (some in the heart of Buenos Aires), tortured them and then killed them and hid/disposed of their bodies. This dictatorship lasted until 1983. (Side note: like the dictatorships in Chile, Guatemala and elsewhere, the United States actively supported it.)

I have just started really asking questions about the time period. Those who were taken would have been mid-50s now, and their children between 20-30. The history is fresh, virtually untouched, and still very painful for people here. My mom's family hid an activist in their campo house. I just found out a very good family friend was detained and was an intense activist. People's friends and families are "desaparecidos." The past week has been emotionally exhausting.

Why am I interested? I'm sure there's an element of sheer fascination of how this could happen, but mostly... in truth, I'm still trying to figure it out. History touches me on a very deep, compassionate level. I believe in using history to recognize the worth in individuals, to work for freedom, to use it preventatively for the future... and more. So to hear that my friend was detained, to know that my extended family has friends that were disappeared, to live in this beautiful city that just recently experienced so much pain... it's intense. I think I want to know about it to try to understand how it happened, how it could happen, how people are capable of it, to understand and grab hold of the militantes' (activists) ideals of freedom and justice, to empathize with this people and culture I've fallen in love with... I don't know exactly. I'm still trying to figure it out.

If you want me to write more, or have specific questions, let me know and I'll add another entry...

For more information, google "desaparecidos," "Dirty War", go to www.memoriaabierta.org, or just search for information...

Monday, June 4, 2007

Mopeds and Sighs




I just spent the weekend in Colonia, Uruguay. It was my first time traveling since February and it was amazing. Colonia is a city founded by the Portugueses in 1680 as a smuggling port into Buenos Aires. In the 1770s, Spain conquered it and it finally won its autonomy with Uruguay in the 1820s. It is a tourist attraction and rightly so. Cobblestone streets and houses remain from the 1600s, and its on the water. It's breathtaking. The people live simply, love their little city, speak slowly and beautifully, and drink more mate per person than any other place in the world.

Highlights of my trip:
-- Street of Sighs. First off, best street name ever. Second, it was the street of true "kilombos" (brothels, the word now used in Argentine slang as "a mess") in the 1700s -- photo above. All the houses and street remain from that época. Yeah, history!
-- Omar's moped. While walking around, I met Omar, who has lived in Colonia for over 50 years. He offered to take me to the Plaza de Toros, the only bull-fighting stadium así in S. America. It was used a few times then abandoned. Secret of my life: sometimes I act like I know what people say, but I really haven't a clue. This was one of those times. All I knew was that this was an old uruguayan offering to show me something 3 km out of the city by way of moped. Heck yes! So I spent the afternoon with Omar riding around the coast and through small neighborhoods and climbing inside an abandoned Plaza de Toros -- picture above. I LOVE life.
-- Chivitos. Typical Colonia dish: steak covered in ham, cheese, bacon and hard-boiled egg. With french fries. Yep. I ate it. TWICE. In one day. (I didn't intend to, life just happens... chivitos happen.)
-- I spent my days purusing the historical district, making friends with old ladies in museums, hanging out in tea houses, and the night, listening to old uruguayan men in a rock band and then sitting on the water under a full moon enjoying silence and stars...

Picturesque? Yes. Will it get me through the next three weeks of hell (=UBA finals)? I sure hope so. Do I want to return someday? Heck yes. With Omar.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Without words

I have never considered language separate from myself; "es decir que" I never considered language a tool, I took it for granted that I could say what I felt. When I arrived in South America, I quickly learned here that my self expression had nothing to do with language -- it couldn't because I couldn't "manejar" (manuever) the language well enough. There were so many days I was beyond frustrated because I wanted the people to see "Megan." However, I was taken out of my zone completely: I couldn't make others comfortable by asking them questions (because I couldn't formulate the questions well or understand the answers), I couldn't voice fun observations about society or carry on a political conversation, I couldn't be comforting when things happened to my family or Argentine friends here... I felt like I couldn't care for people well, or I couldn't be silly or intelligent or interested... because I had no words. I had to depend on others to have patience while I spoke, or ask me questions, or hope we connected in another way...

And I realized quickly that my personality is completely separate from words, and if there were no words, I would still be Megan. My personality would still need expression. My little sisters were the first people who knew me well. Kids don't need words as much -- silly faces across the breakfast table, pillow fights, spontaneous dance parties, and cuddling while watching movies is sufficient. I listen well -- if I can't be sincere and loving with words, I can be that through listening - using my eyes and attention to show people that I do want to know of their lives. I laugh a lot here. I laugh because sometimes I understand things but can't respond quickly enough to be witty, or just because people need to know I'm fun. I dance. -- yeah, tango! By doing something that doesn't require words, my friends know: how I am when I'm frustrated (when I constantly error in a step), how to encourage me, that I don't take things too seriously because we laugh when I screw up, and that I have tons of energy (am "feisty" as one friend calls me). I also had to find other ways of loving people (I'm a big words of affirmation person) -- so being attentive to people through quality time, buying thoughtful gifts, cleaning the kitchen...

In the past three months, my language has improved incredibly. But I still search for other ways of self-expression. It's been stretching, challenging, frustrating, and fun, but I think it's a really beautiful lesson... and if anything, I'm even MORE dynamic now...

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

Mullet photo...!!!



Here it is -- the infamous girl mullet!! A bit grown out... but I'm getting a fresh trim Friday and will post the photos soon... so you can see the real funky-ness of it!! haha. I love the fun of life.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Buenos Aires Slang

For those of you who speak Spanish, I want to give you a look into my Argentine slang. Disclaimer: These are not sentences I would normally say but I was trying to construct sentences with slang words... haha. It's translated below. Here you go:

¡Hola, negra! ¿Como andas? Che, recién estaba en bondi y vi un hombre lindo… estaba refuerte. ¡No! ¡Boluda! No hable con el. ¡Boluda! Había otro tipo con el, y el le dijo algo de su mujer… pero estaba confundida porque hablábamos de minas, y de un gato especifico. Que bajón. Pero el estaba refuerte. Bueno. Fui a un café y tome un cortado con dos facturas y una medialuna – era rebarato. Y tuvo buena onda. Pero había un tipo refeo que me dijo, “Gorda, ¡que linda sos!” Yo pensaba, “que feo sos.”

Che, ¿cómo están tus viejas? ¿Hablaste con ellos vos?

Escúchame una cosa – quiero comprarme unas zapatillas. Porque con la lluvia (un plomo ayer, ¿viste?) y con solo zapatos… es un lío. Bueno, tus nuevos zapatos te quedan bien. A ver… ¿qué más iba decirte? ¿Querés salir a bailar rock esta noche? O sé de una milonga -- ¡me cargás! ¿Salís a una milonga esta noche vos? ¡Mirá vos! Tal cual. Dale, si tenés ganas, ¿querés arreglarte y entonces encontrarnos para hacer un asado antes la milonga? O, qué sé yo, ¿ir a una parrilla? No quiero mas carne porque ya comí una milanesa pero comería pollo o algo. Ya compre fernet y Coca para después pero tengo fiaca… no quiero salir a bailar. Voy a quedarme en casa con las nenas y mi cuarto esta hecho un kilombo… necesito organizarme un poco.

Bueno, Ya esta. Listo. Nos vemos. Un besito.

Translated:
Hi term of endearment! How are you? Hey, I was just on a bus and I saw this really cute guy… he was super attractive. No! (Boluda is like swearing, but not… it’s only used between really good friends, or calling someone a boludo/a would start a hardcore fight in the street. In this sense, it means, something like idiot, or… has the sense of, "of course not! How could you think that? That’s ridiculous!”) I didn’t talk with him! There was another guy with him, and he said something about his woman. (When guys call someone their “mujer” it means they’re either married or have been living together for a loooong time. A girlfriend is never a “mujer”.) But I was confused because they were talking about women, and one slut in particular. How annoying. But he was so cute. Well, anyway. I went to a café and drank a tiny coffee and had two pastries and a croissant – it was really cheap. And had a good atmosphere. But there was this ugly guy who said to me, “Gorda! How beautiful you are!” and I was thinking, “How ugly you are.” (Gorda or gordo is only used for someone you are dating.)

Hey, how are your parents? Have you talked with them?

Listen, I want to buy some gym shoes. Because with the rain (was so annoying and frustrating yesterday, you agree?) and with only my cute shoes… it was a mess. Hey, your new shoes look great on you! Let’s see… what else did I want to tell you? Do you want to go to a club with rock music tonight? Or I know of a place to tango… you’re kidding me! You’re going out to a milonga tonight? Look at you! (I can’t really translate tal cual… like a term of being even, of affirmation, of agreement with what the other person said.) Well, if you feel up for it, do you want to get ready and then meet up to barbeque before you go? Or… whatever… we can go out to a (restaurant where there’s tons of amazing argentine meat). I don’t want meat because I had a milanesa (argentine food… breaded steak) for lunch but I’ll get chicken or something. I already bought fernet (national cheap hard liquor of Argentina that is always mixed with Coke) and coke for after. But I don’t really feel like going out tonight. I’m going to stay home with the girls and my room is a mess… I have to catch up on life a bit.

Okay. That’s it. We’ll see each other soon. A kiss.

Monday, April 16, 2007

Una mezcla

I've learned about myself that when so many amazing things happen and I don't write/tell about them, I freeze and shut down and don't want to tell anything to anyone... and I can't do that! So I'm going to do highlights... you can choose!

1) Perfect Argentine Weekend.
2) Political unrest in Argentina.
3) My new name: Rose.
4) Walnuts and the Country

--PERFECT ARGENTINE WEEKEND. I just had the most amazing weekend. It was Argentine to the max. Friday I was invited out tango dancing!! At TWO real milongas until 6am! And I tango'd! Funny detail: The guy I went with has been dancing for ten years. Last year he was casted as Romeo in a tango-styled Romeo and Juliet. Sooo... I went out dancing with the Romeo of tango! haha. (Too bad I'm just NOT attracted to the guy.)
Saturday I woke after two hours of sleep to ride bikes with the class of my 7 year old sister. Then I made eight tortas with my mom, and that night, we had over 50 people to our house for her 40th birthday. Incredible. There was a DJ in our living room, my mom had been practicing salsa for weeks and put on this espectáculo of salsa (like flipping in the air...), there was coffee and wine and tortas of fruit and chocolate... we danced until 430am. So fun.
I woke Sunday at 3pm and went directly to a bar in my neighborhood to watch the BOCA/RIVER game. I was one of three women in the packed out bar --guys leaned through the windows to see the small TV, and Niko (my cousin here) and I stood in the back, drank beer, and watched the game. It was the game of all games, and people were shouting/jumping/cheering/hitting tables/singing fútbol songs... I loved it.

--POLITICAL UNREST. Last Monday was a "paro" = all the universities/schools, public AND private, didn't hold classes; the public transportation didn't run, and 30,000 people marched through BsAs. Why? The Thursday before, the police shot and killed a professor in another providence during a protest. The country's people were are in an uproar for two reasons: it raised the education issue here (education is free in Arg. at any level, but money is not allocated as it should be), but also raised the issue of the corruption in the police and government. This has been an issue historically, and the police still use violence and torture to enforce power in some areas; a lot of the mindset is still from the dictatorship in the 70s. So to be here during all the politics is so interesting (yeah, sociology!). Google: Argentina dictatorship or go to BBC.com to see what's happening in Arg.

--MY NEW NAME: ROSE. Two weeks ago today, Katie and I visited La Boca. As were were purusing the Caminito of artensans and painters, we started talking with Guillermo Alio. He and his wife are world reknown for their art: they dance tango on a canvas, with paint on their feet. It's beautiful. He is in his fifties, the bridge in La Boca is named after his grandfather, he was invited to Jay Leno, and he wore a tango hat when we went out for pizza. From 3pm-10pm, we hung out with Guillermo and his friend Miguel, who is a world-traveled tango guitarist. They gave us names that only they can call us (Katie-Maria and I-Rose, haha). We drank mate together, conversed about life and beauty and living well, laughed, and they took us out for wine and pizza. If Buenos Aires was in a movie, THIS would be the scene. Things to google: La Boca Caminito, Guillermo Alio.

--WALNUTS IN THE COUNTRY: for Easter I spent the weekend in the country house of my family (el campo). It was amazing. When the Spanish controlled Arg. in the late 1700s, rich Spanish families had their vacation homes in the country... and the tradition continues today: people that can afford it own homes in the country. It was so interesting to be on a farm, collect walnuts from trees, eat asados, and ride a horse...(!) Most of all I loved being barefoot, playing fútbol with my older cousins and being in the country. :)

Sooo... that's my life. haha. Fun, no?

Friday, April 13, 2007

I did it - do you think I've gone too far?

Yep. It happened. The girl mullet happened. hahah. And I like it!! Thank you for all of your participation and votes... the mullet actually won, but I must be honest: I knew it would happen before I posted that... But here's how it happened: I asked around for the funkiest peluquería in BsAs, and when I got there, "Juan" asked me what I wanted. I only said, "Quiero algo distincto y divertido." (I want something different and fun.) He looked at my face, took out his scissors, and the mullet happened. But let me describe it.

It's not an 80s type mullet - it's fun, trendy-funky, playful, and very high-fashion. It's a mullet in the sense that the longest pieces are just above my shoulders, the shortest pieces on the top of my head are 2 inches long. It complements my curls because he cut it so the long pieces fall in ringlets and the rest is just funky and wavy and natural. I have a few bangs... they are on the L 3/4 of my face and the other 1/4 is pieces of hair that falls in curls. My bangs are really short and piece-y and funky. haha. It sounds crazy, I know, but it's not. So far, all the Americans I've seen really like it. So I think I'm safe.

Some days I like it. Some days I think, "What happened to the soft, classic, Megan style?? This is too much." But in general, it's just fun. I will post photos as soon as possible. For those of you who don't know, I lost my camera... so I have to wait to borrow someone else's! But I will post photos...haha. Oh, how fun this is...!)

(As I titled this, I was singing Dave Matthews... just so you can reference where my head's at. haha.)

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

A vote on girl mullets

WARNING: This entry requires group participation - aka COMMENTS.

Soooo... I have to get a hair cut. Girl mullets are hot here. Never again in my life will I be in a place where girl mullets are hot (I don't plan on it anyway). What do you think? Should I aprovechar (take advantage of) the situation of my life?

SHOULD I GET A GIRL MULLET??

Let me know your vote.

Friday, March 30, 2007

Cultural Barriers

So I am one month into my stay in BsAs, and these are the things I still don't completely understand:

- Why dog-walking is such a popular job.
- Why they don't eat wheat bread.
- Why the only two things I can't buy are peanut butter (expected) and BLACK BEANS (?)
- How buying helado (ice cream) became such a serious thing.
- How people survive when you don't leave for the clubs until after 2am.
- How and where to find and buy books.
- How to correctly buy fruit without offending the grocery worker.
- How all the girls are so skinny.
- Why stoplights go green-yellow-red-yellow-green.
- Why sometimes taxis and colectivos don't have to stop at red lights.
- Why people don't pick up their dogs' poop on the sidewalk. It's a bother to all of humanity here.
- Why the government doesn't produce more coins.
- Why the colectivos don't use a card system- it would take care of the coin problem!! (seriously, EVERYONE hoards coins for the buses. there are never enough.)
- Where mullets come from.
- Why when you buy a bottle of water or can of soda, they give you a straw for it.
- Why marriage isn't a big thing here.
- The absolute insane frenzy of fútbol.
- Why keys have to turn twice.
- Why having a clean house is so important.
- How kisses on cheeks can be so impersonal (they are!).
- Why alfajores are so popular. They just AREN'T good.
- Why café cortados are so... small.

I think if a person can thoroughly understand or accept these things, they are truly Argentine. As much as I would like it all to be normal by the time I leave, I don't know if it's possible... haha.

Monday, March 26, 2007

Favorite Place Yet

It’s an old five story building that has holes for windows - but not all the holes are covered with panes - and if panes, there are definitely no screens. If you expect a toilet seat or toilet paper, you’re out of your mind. The floors are as dirty as any Buenos Aires sidewalk or street, littered with cigarette butts and dirt and…? Graffiti covers the interior walls, demanding justice, communism, freedom, peace, revolution, with photos of Che, and a few knocks on good ol’ G.W. Other walls have detailed murals. In the hallways, venders sell homemade alfajores, cheap sandwiches, sweet breads filled with marmalade, and bottles of Coke. Others sell Argentine literature. Outside the entrance, dread-locked men and women play guitars while selling wooden/leather jewelry or books on revolutions. Inside the building is an open space. At all hours, there are people playing chess and drinking Quilmes beer or smoking marijuana, or often times doing all three. Sounds of wooden flutes and folk guitar songs float into the unscreened windows. This building has been the birthplace of political and social revolutions in Argentina, and continues to be a liberal political hotspot. What is this place?

This is my university. University of Buenos Aires, Facultad de Filosofia y Letras.

15,000 students of all ages crowd the halls regularly, eager to take advantage of their free education at the best university in Argentina. Students steal broken desks from neighboring classrooms and pack into the sticky, non-air-conditioned rooms. When stolen desks fill the classroom, students sit on the floor, stand against the walls, and flood out into the hallway, straining to hear the words of their poorly paid but brilliant professors who can’t move around the classroom due to the flood of desks and bodies. When students ask a question, they attempt to phrase it perfectly, treasuring the opportunity to hold the respected professor’s attention; they hang on his/her every word. Students smoke in the doorways of classrooms because they really want to hear the lecture, but can’t resist a cigarette.

The students are “muy distinctos” (aka there are none like them anywhere else). They walk into random classrooms to interrupt and make announcements, or to hand out fliers about political happenings (Saturday there was a demonstration and march through the city) and political movies that are shown in our courtyard under the hazy cloud of marijuana smoke. In the courtyard, they paint signs calling for actions of justice and then hang them in the entrance. They tape and plaster papers for meetings and demonstrations all over the walls and doors.

If I make it through my classes with B’s, it will be a miracle, but if I make it through “la UBA” in general, it will strengthen me more than any other experience of my life.

I love this place. It’s raw. It’s beautiful in its idealism -- beautiful in its dirty floors, broken windows, graffiti covered walls. The student body is beautiful in its desire to learn, to change society, and in its boldness. La UBA is a mess. “Un kilombo,” they say here. But it’s Argentina at heart, and there is no place I would rather be.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

A tango dancer is born.

1. Ohmygoodness I love the tango. I can't handle it. It's the most amazing dance ever. I am obsessed and my only desire is to be the best tango dancer in the entire program. It's ridiculous. I'm competitive about it. (I'm laughing but I'm so serious... which is ridiculous, I know.) Today during my first ORGANIZED tango lesson, I fell in love with it. I've had a lesson before, you ask? Yes, from an old Argentine man at the Tango Festival. How perfect, no? A man in his seventies, Italian, Argentine, and STILL hitting on me even though he is "grande". Typical porteño. But I learned the basic tango from him! So today, when I learned more and felt confident, it enchanted me! Oh, and just for the record, I now know the "gancho" which is the move where the woman swiftly and gracefully flicks her leg behind and wraps it around the guy's. Yep. It's hot. and super fun. Watch out, world.

2. Piazzolla: the jazzy type of tango music. Last night Katie and I returned to a trendy local jazz place to hear a piazzolla trio for the second time. It's pretty much the sweetest jazz place ever. See photos and listen at theloniousclub.com.ar The music pulled depths from me that must have been buried and ignored... I've had a really difficult time finding music that is in time with my emotions and thoughts... My mind and insides are tumultuous these days. But piazzolla... It's tango roots are strong and forceful, but playful and full of passionate emotion; the jazz in it is creative and rythyms clash and melodies mix... and its essence is "right in time with me" (lucinda williams). You know how sometimes you connect with music so deeply that it makes you feel vulnerable? like if someone saw you while listening, they would see your inmost feelings? That is piazzolla for me. Try to find some online to check out.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Way to Die #3: Futbol games.

I just wrote another entry {two in one day!} that you can check out beneath this one... they're both long, I know (sorry) but worth reading, I think. They describe this city well.

Yesterday we went to our first Argentine futbol game. There is NOTHING to compare it to in the United States. NOTHING. It was Lanus v. Racing. We met an Argentine Saturday night who invited us to go with his friends. I fell backwards on the couch out of excitement when he asked us. We've been told by everyone that we can only go to a futbol game here with Argentines who know how to do it, or else we would die(after last night, I think they were speaking at least 70% literally when they said die), so I'd been anxiously awaiting an Argentine guy friend.

First, we took a train to the stadium. Let me set the atmosphere: thirty young guys, ages 14-30, singing futbol songs at a deafening volume (each team has its own songs); drinking wine from boxes; smoking marijuana and cigarettes; leaning out of the train windows; banging the doors, walls, windows so hard that slabs of train wall were swinging loose, so they banged those too; actually the slab of wall was being slammed by a 10 year old singing kid. Chaos. The five of us were for the other team (Lanus). We asked Marcus (our friend) what would happen to us if we started singing Lanus songs. He said they would jump us. We stayed silent and in a corner. When our stop came, the five of us were escorted off the train by three guards in bullet proof vests, carrying crowd control shields, like you see in photos from the 60s riots, and automatic rifles (I don't know guns, but they were three feet long and terrifying-looking). Marcus' friends grabbed us and escorted us out of the station. Apparently there is a train stop for each set of fans.

There are also two entrances to the stadium that holds 30,000 and is always full. During the game. No one sits; we are stuffed on top of one another so that sitting is impossible; they sing songs and chants constantly so that the entire stadium is at a deafening roar; there are thirty ft. high fences surrounding the field complete with barbed wire circles on it, and barbed wire on top, but that doesn't stop the 8 year olds from sitting on top of them for the best view; the same armed guards surround each fans' section (we tried them counting but stopped at 100); when people jump during chants, the stadium literally moves; fireworks are set off from the crowd; we throw paper and wave bags made into balloons; when Racing trips Lanus, the entire crowd screams "Hijo de puto" in unison (son of a bitch) and then proceeds to curse the players entire family; cheering for one's own team is ALWAYS encouraging (different than US); we waited 45 minutes while Racing fans were let out first; five armed guards on horses, two squad cars, and over twenty armed guards on foot stood outside our exit and walked with the crowd back to the trains and buses; we heard police's warning gunshots (of fights) as we walked to our colectivo.

We were told last night's game was incredibly tranquil, especially in comparison to the legendary Boca/River games. They're the two most popular teams, and supposedly if the two crowds of fans were to intermingle during the game, people would die. Boca and River play each other in May. I'm in.

A Romance Ignited

Wednesday, I vowed to learn how to love Buenos Aires. Thursday, Buenos Aires began learning how to love me, and viola! A romance ignited. It went like this:

Katie and I shared an umbrella on a street corner while colectivos (buses) and cars splashed trashy water onto our flip-flop/tan-lined feet, and the guy under the umbrella next to us chuckled at our misfortune. As our two umbrellas crossed the street, we began a delightful but awkward conversation; it could be nothing but awkward with three people and two umbrellas squeezing through the crowded and under-repair sidewalks of Buenos Aires. The 5’7, mid-twenties, earring-wearing, mullet-sporting porteño was Buenos Aires personified: unabashedly friendly, chatty, animated, and passionate without measure. We quickly learned that Cristian writes and plays tango music, and that the underground language of Buenos Aires, lunfardo, is part of his normal vocabulary. (Can you get anymore porteño?) At one point, we were suddenly being serenaded. From under his umbrella, Cristian serenaded us with a tango. In the rain.

Later we asked if he liked Buenos Aires rock, he told us, “No! We have to get back to our roots!" (roots being tango) To emphasize his point, he jumped into the street and, stomping on the ground, continued, “This is just land! Land! Nothing else! We have to know our roots!” His passion almost caused his death (refer to previous blog entry Ways to Die) but he made us understand the power of societal roots. Sounds crazy, I know, but the depth and passion with which he spoke about life was brilliantly intellectual. When we parted, we walked one block and realized we really wanted him as a friend. We turned and took off running through the muddy sidewalk puddles to catch up to him five blocks later. We asked when his band was playing (we needed somewhat of a reason to return) and if we could go listen. He excitedly wrote his email and phone number, invited us to go bike riding through the city and out in the country if we would like, and invited us to go have a beer with he and his friends. Oh, Buenos Aires…

But that is not all, friends. The day continued as we waited out the storm by hiding in an antique bookshop, chatting with the old bookseller about sociology, poetry and history, while he smoked and introduced us to his “cueva de amigos muertos” (cave of dead friends… aka: the books that crowded and fell in piles off the shelves). We later met Katie’s host mom and her bf to listen to an Argentine guitarist play folk music, eat homemade empanadas, and drink red wine. It was El Día Internacional de la Mujer (International - in all but USA apparently - Day of the Woman), and Victor (the bf) treated each of us to a fourth kilo of helado.

As I got off the colectivo and began to walk six blocks to my house, hoards of fútbol fans crowded the streets, having just left the stadium of River – one of the two biggest teams in Buenos Aires. They were adorned in jerseys and smelled like beer and fútbol excitement. I was in heaven. I arrived home to find flowers and a card from my mom and sisters in my room, wishing me a “¡Feliz Día de la Mujer!” I climbed into bed smiling, and told Buenos Aires that perhaps this relationship would work out after all, and fell asleep.

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

For Claire.

Información antecedentes: Bueno, hoy mi vida acá es [otra vez] confundida y loca… no había estado un día bueno. Terminó toda la constancia la cual he esperando por semanas – necesito cambiar las universidades, por lo tanto, necesito cambiar todo en mi vida. Bueno, estoy cansada, frustrada, un poco enojada, y no quiero estar acá en este momento… Pero entonces algo pasó…

Yo estaba parada en una esquina, esperaba para entrar un banco para sacar dinero, cuando me di cuenta que habían burbujas en el aire. ¡Burbujas! Me encantan burbujas. En la otra esquina, había un hombre hacía burbujas. Flotaban por el aire, el viento del tráfico las empujaban arriba, encima de los autos y colectivos, en frente edificios lindos españoles, sobre las cabezas de los peotones… que lindo fue. Qué lindo… Me alegró muchísimo. Burbujas. Un hombre grande (viejo) italiano porteño, hacía burbujas. Me alegró.

Translation:

Background information: Well, today my life here is (again) confused and disorganized… it has not been a good day. All of the constancy I have been waiting for for weeks ended today – I have to switch universities, therefore, I have to change everything in my life. So, I´m tired, frustrated, a bit angry, and I don’t want to be here right now… But then something happened…

I was standing on a street corner, waiting to enter a bank to take out money, when I realized there were bubbles in the air. Bubbles! I LOVE bubbles. There was a man on the other corner, blowing bubbles. They were floating through the air, the wind from the traffic pushing them up, above cars and buses, in front of beautiful Spanish buildings, above heads of pedestrians… how charming it was. How perfect… It made me really happy. Bubbles. An old, Italian, porteño (person from BA) man blowing bubbles. It made me happy.

Monday, March 5, 2007

Ways to Die in Buenos Aires

For those of you concerned with my safety, I thought I should give you a security update. I have discovered there are two ways I could die here:

1) Traffic. The drivers of buses, cabs, and autos have absolutely no mercy for pedestrians. I have to learn a whole new way of crossing streets.

2) Starvation. The women here don´t eat. Seriously. I have heard multiple statistics about eating disorders and Buenos Aires (such as: it´s the #2 city for eating disorders in the world, and 1 in 10 women struggle with them). However, I can´t figure out if it´s eating disorders or just the culture... because EVERYONE is stick thin. I don't understand how something can be a disorder when the entire society takes part in it; it´s normal!

However, I have already decided this will not bother me -- there are too many bread and ice cream shops to try! Seriously though, my thoughts are not ¨Oh my goodness, I need to lose weight!¨ Instead, they´ve been a healthy ¨Give me food NOW! I'm going to eat whether you do or not!!¨ haha. I´m so grateful for a healthy self-image... haha. Oh, life...

Thursday, March 1, 2007

Good times.

Short Chapters of this Entry (choose what you want to read!!)

1) Drinking and Driving
2) "the Shit"
3) Nightlife and Coffee

DRINKING and DRIVING
Sunday-Wednesday we were in Mendoza, the wine capital of Argentina (7th in most wine consuming countries in the world). It was in-credible. What was even better was taking BIKES through the bodegas (vineyards) and from one to another. Yep, bikes, sun, vineyards, wine-tasting. Flipping amazing. You wish you were with us. I learned this though: When having only consumed two crissonts at breakfast six hours earlier, it is not smart to49 drink a glass of wine relatively quickly and then ride a bike. Nothing bad happened, it just didn't feel so great... haha. So we stopped, let it settle, and continued to our second bodega -- which was the oldest in this town (1850s) and completely family-run. Again, in-credible.

"THE SHIT"
I know, I know... I just cussed. But let me explain. When used in this context, the word "shit" is a title -- to be "the Shit" is to be the coolest of cool people - to be popular, known, hip, trendy, wanted... this is what it means to be "the Shit." To give you an example, I have never been the Shit. It just doesn't work for me in the States. And that's okay. My good friend says she was the Shit in seventh grade, so I figure living vicariously through her suffices. However.... here, my friends, we are the Shit. Three nights ago, we were in a bar and turned to find some twelve-year-old kid at the window next to the table, taking photos of each gringa (3), and smiling a ridiculously goofy smile. En serio. While drinking and riding bikes, a truckload of guys (I'm talking a BIG truck -- with 20 something guys, 2-3 times our height) drove past, all yelling different things in Spanish, all whistling, and then --- it started raining things -- they were THROWING leaves and berries at us. American guys, FYI: throwing leaves at girls riding bikes is not a good way to get their attention. So, I know, trucks and kids aren't really exciting, but literally EVERYONE wants to talk with us or watches us as if we are some strange TV show.

NIGHTLIFE and COFFEE
For the past 7 of 8 nights, I have gone out to bars and stayed out until at least 3am. Three AM is really really early here. My body is actually starting to get used to it! SO different than my life in Chicago... can I get an Amen to that?? haha. That's what you do here: eat dinner at ten, hang out until 2, go out and talk until 4, go home. It's out of control. After night #4, I decided the only way to survive is to drink coffee. And, yes, I know, you can't believe it, but I am now a consumer of coffee. What IS this place??? I'm going to return a coffee-drinking, bar-hopping, stay-out-all-night woman. Yikes. I've also decided that I really don't enjoy drinks other than wine... so while everyone stays up drinking, I have sampled every juice possible. Let's hear it for all-natural juice!!

I am now in Buenos Aires -- as of this morning... Check back in tomorrow for updates...

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Simplicity Part I: Priorities

Like I mentioned in my last entry, Kila Leufu stirred up many thoughts and struggles on the country-city girl in me. By request, here are some of my questions, struggles, and thoughts related to beauty and living simply...

PRIORITIES. More than once a week, I have to sit down with God and re-establish my priorities. My priority list usually looks like this: God, keeping myself healthy, family/close friendships, school, important responsibilities (in the past things like Capture, or sports teams, or an activity), and other people in my life. Within that list are levels of importance, and I often have to write out even those details. (I'm pretty organized and visual...haha.) Why do I have to be so concrete with my life? For some of you, this routine may seem boring and over-the-top, but I´ve found if I don't do this, my life gets pretty messy -- I get pretty messy, and then all else suffers. Because I forget to take care of myself, I become dependent on my own weak abilities instead of on God, I neglect relationships that are most important, and I waste time and energy (both of which are precious to me) on things that don't matter.

When we spoke with Sandra at Kila Leufu, I realized that she lives *so well* priority-wise, and I'm sure she never has to sit down with her journal and make lists. Why does she live well?? Because she understands that her responsibilities, her priorities, are given to her -- unlike me, she doesn't feel the need to go out and save the world; instead, she cares for the people God brings to her, and for the things she has been given -- the hostel, the farm, her daughters and husband.

How would that look in my life? What if I didn't go searching to save the world? What if I only cared for the people and things that God gives to me? I think I have more than enough...

More than that, her lifestyle is attractive because she isn't forced to choose priorities -- hers are very clear. Mine aren't as clear, so living well requires more energy. At least twice a week, I check in with my best friend to see we're choosing the right priorities. And sometimes, I have to make difficult decisions about where I invest time. It's exhausting sometimes!

With all that said... I'm challenged once again to ask God to prioritize my life, and to consider listening to Him instead of heading out on my own pride to save the world...

What are your priorities right now?? Where do they come from?? How are you living well??

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Mud, Street Corners, Volcanos, Country Girl

We are back in Santiago for a few days... I have so much to tell you... Hmm... which story?? How about a highlight paragraph and then the real deal?

HIGHLIGHTS: We went to hot springs and went into a mud bath under the stars... I got in without hesitation, but I didn't remain in the thick, black, chunky goo for very long. Salsa dancing in a barn (literally) in Pucón until 4 am while people sat on the gravel floor with pillows and listened to the 7 person Cuban band. Hanging out with this guy we met in the barn - Roberto - until 6am - and drawing many looks from people... people looking at two gringas on a street corner at 430am, why HE was the Chilean with us, why why why... we laughed a lot about it (sounds shady, I know, but it 26 wasn´t). Rafting on a level 4 river (goes up to 6) -- super exciting -- what they didn´t tell us beforehand was that we had to jump from a 2-3 story cliff into the gushing river below. Staying Sunday night at Kila Leufu, a Mapuche-influenced farm 23 km outside Pucón. Our rafting guide´s wife (surprise!) met us at the door, and their two daughters introduced us to the pigs, chickens, cows and turkeys. The four year old girl showed us which apple trees were the sweetest to eat, and the twelve-year-old walked us through the herb and vegetable gardens. Kate and I sat and drank coffee while over-looking the volcano outside our window and the asado hut. We ate a homemade dinner with travellers from Germany and Switzerland, and woke in the morning to cows´noises and homemade bread and mermelada. That day we hiked to a private laguna in the mountains to swim, and stained our fingers and tongues with wild blackberries.

REAL DEAL: There was something so appealing to me about the farm, and Sandra´s family´s life... it was so simple... she could enjoy the beauty and slowness of life while still being in touch with the greatest of the world through the travellers who came through each day... her priorities were clear (it´s difficult for me to keep priorities in check): love her daughters and family, care for the people who come through Kila Leufu, breathe in beauty, learn about the world... Being there and talking with her stirred the country girl within me and inspired a few hours of conversation for Kate and I... There is no 'better' way of life -- it´s a choice... but it seems that hers would be less of a struggle to live WELL.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Por bus al campo

Yesterday was an emotionally crazy day. We took a bus at 645am from Achao, Chiloe, to Puerto Montt, and caught up on sleep and rest... Once off the bus, we heard ¨Megan!¨on the street and turned to find two of our Loyolan friends (whom we had left in Puerto Natales) across the street. That happens here. Everyone goes to the same spots, so we have run into fellow travellers and friends in multiple cities... super fun! Anyway.

The four of us walked through artensan stands, fruit stands, and dodged the hanging clams and mussels at seafood stands to arrive at El Mercado. Friends, I was in heaven. Absolute heaven. It´s a crazy, cramped farmers/fishers market with tons of people, tons of food, good (and rank) smells. I LOVE outdoor markets. We wove through people, raw fish and foreign fruits to arrive at Los Cocineras. These are very small restaurants crowded together and sitting over the water. They all serve the seafood of the markets, and we watched the fishing boats from our tables. We ate curanto, which is a local specialty. We were told it cooks in huge pots, so we assumed it was stew. WRONG. We received plates piled high with clams, mussels, fish, meat, potatoes, weird bread, more fish, more... holy cow. heaven. I´ve never eaten so many shellfish.

After some frustrations and difficulty at the bus terminal, we were exhausted and even more in culture shock. However, a super nice bus man helped us and gave us his cell phone to make calls to the US, and a guy our age helped us out. Long story short -- we arrived in Pucon at 1145pm with no place to stay. The guy, Rola, had his girlfriend give us a ride to run an errand, and then she picked up her family. As they handed us our backpacks, the mother offered their house for the night... Ladies and gentleman, this was another miracle. They own this beautiful cabin in the country with a river and horses and mountains... they cooked us a meal at 100am, lit a fire in the stove in our bedroom, gave us hot showers, this morn cooked breakfast and brought us to Pucon. INCREDIBLE experience. There was the mom, and five kids and us. Perfect. Yay for hospitality and goodness... and curanto.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Tears in the streets.

Okay, so I´ve told you all the fun stuff -- I think I should give you a piece of real life, too. And, I don´t get to a computer much so I will give you a treat and do two in one day!!

So yesterday I hit exhaustion and culture shock-frustration.

Let me explain Latin America for a minute. Here, life is slower. One main reason is because everything is spread out. At home, I go to Walmart or Walgreens or a grocery store to buy an alarm clock, dinner food, an electrical adaptor and medicine. Here, you go to a panaderia for bread, a fruteria for produce, a carneceria for meat, a relojeria for a clock, a pharmacia for medicine, and you try multiple stores for an adaptor. Everything takes more time, more energy, and more new vocabulary. I like the slowness, but...

For those of you who have lived with me or have been around me behind closed doors, you know that when I hit exhaustion, I also cry. But never before. :) So yesterday I was exhausted from traveling, and from not much sleep (two nights before we were in a club until 540am... I only know 540 because when I heard it was that late/early, I was impressed with myself). All I wanted to do was make two phone calls to my family and a friend, and it was NOT working. I really needed to hear their voices BEFORE everything went wrong -- so then when it went wrong, I was a mess.

I bought a phone card for $3 for 40 minutes two nights ago. After searching the streets for a phone, I found out I can only use it at a street phone. So I tried that but it wouldn´t connect me, and it charged me without telling me for each attempt. By the time I figured it out, I had lost half my minutes and couldn´t even reach voicemail. Then the internet wouldn´t let me send emails, I couldn´t figure out how to type the arroba (@), and the little boy at the computer next to me couldn´t figure out why the gringa next to him was in tears as she furiously typed...

I still haven´t found a phone. I haven´t spoken with my family or my friend. Because we couldn´t find a clock yesterday, and because a request for a wake up call got lost in translation, we missed our bus this morning back to Chile.

Good things: God arranged a miracle so that two seats magically appeared for tomorrow´s bus while we were sitting frustrated in the terminal at 9am this morning. Seriously, a miracle. I had a good cry. I sat and drank tea and journaled today. I figured out how to type the arroba (alt 64). The hotel man gave us tonight for free, and we weren´t charged for tomorrow´s bus. I found two alarm clocks today. Katie reminded me to give myself grace -- this is our first big travel stop on our own. We´re doing a really great job figuring things our amidst a different language and culture...

I still need a phone though.

Amusement and men.

Warning: There are some things I really want to tell you, but they might not paint me in the best light – or, you might not care, so consider yourself warned… haha. Read with humor and lightness…

So I have tried to notice a bunch of things that I love or dislike about each day, and I might share them with you sometimes. For today:

I am extremely amused by men´s reactions to us here. Argentine men DO show their appreciation of women in various ways – classic whistles, hollers, the always uncomfortable up and down look (which is done without any shame here), the despised hiss, a very warm ¨hola¨, kissing noises, or just walking right up to us and offering to take us out for chocolate. The last one is my favorite.

While we know it´s just a tease, and have heard from everyone that Argentine men will say anything, I must admit that we use it to our advantage almost daily. Argentine and Chilean women intimidate us (although we´re learning how to crack their stares), so we pretty much always 19 ask men for help, directions, language questions, food or music suggestions, and, well… everything. Even cheese.

Before leaving Santiago, I was in a grocery store and had questions about cheese. Without thinking, I scanned the store for a man, and told Katie I would go ask him instead of the woman, who was closer. As I walked away, I realized how automatic my decision was, spun to face Katie and said, ¨Katie, this is horrible. I´m using my sexuality to buy cheese!¨

Bad news. I know. But it´s super-humorous.

Other thing on this subject: While hanging out with female travellers is great, we´ve met more fun guys - again, the women we´ve met here are intimidating! (Except our Israeli friends who were both just so cute and fun). So we decided instead of ignoring guys on the streets, we should try to meet them (but only if they aren´t creepy)! This morning we spent a good amount of time working on smiling as we walk down streets, making eye contact, and saying a friendly ¨hola¨ to people who pass and take note of us as gringas. Bariloche is filled with fun travellers, and we want to meet them! Haha… don´t worry. We´re being safe. And smart. But we´re amused by all this…

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

¿Bears?

Guys, it is Wednesday and I still don´t know who won the Super Bowl FOUR DAYS AGO. Yes, I am on the other side of the world. 7

Sunday I realized that it was Sunday. I had seriously no idea. Then I realized that it was SUPER BOWL Sunday. I freaked out. Surreal.

And now it´s Wednesday. I still have no idea. No one tell me and I won´t look. Let´s see how long I can go without knowing. This truly is a miracle to me.

The Commencement of a Very Rigid Search

Puerto Natales. Wednesday. 15:56.

From Friday until yesterday, I have: hiked over 50 km; climbed more than ten mountains; fallen into a river; stood at the foot of a 10,000 year old glacier; hung food in trees while sleeping so pumas wouldn´t kill me; eaten lots of tuna; drunk only glacier water; hiked past avalanches; showered only once; seen hundreds of llamas; gotten lost, climbed a mountain without a trail, got to the top to see the sun rise over mountains beneath me, and then prayed to survive the descent; survived; discovered that it really IS possible for every muscle from mid-back down to throb with exhaustionat the same time; and have seen more natural beauty than I thought existed. This has been my life for five days. This is Torres del Paine.

Torres del Paine is a national park in southern Chile. It was formed over 10,000 years ago when the Ice Age ended. It is a geologist´s dream in that some of the mountains´rock is 150 million years old. It has lakes that are robin´s egg blue, pampas, huge glaciers, snow capped mountains, mountain valleys with crashing rivers, waterfalls... completely breath-taking every second. Check out photos here. http://marcelo.ubb.cl/perl/gallery.pl?id_zona=17&npagina=1

Two highlights:
1. The second day there, Katie, Dan (the guy of the group) and I woke to hike a short trail to see the sunrise and turn the mountains orange. Somehow we got lost, climbed a mountain and saw rocks crash off the side beneath us. It took an hour and a half to climb to this high place. Once there, it was breath-taking, but I discovered one of my greatest fears is to be on an edge from which I could tumble and die. I don´t fear insects, or heights, or really much of anything, but now -- edges and falling. But we got over the other side of the mountain and found the normal place and the usual trail, and were so glad... and then we felt super hardcore.

2. The second night (same day as above), Katie and I were hanging out with four guys outside the lodge at the campsite. Two of them, cousins Diego and Nestór, invited us to hike with them the next day. Our American group was exhausted and was going to skip the middle of the W hike, and Katie and I so wanted to do it. We woke up, found Diego and Nestór, hiked two hours, set up tents, dropped our bags, and hiked the 3.5 hours to the lookout point. That night, we got back and hung out with these two, and two other guys from Santiago until 100am, drinking tea outside our tents and conversing in Spanish. They were all so patient with our Spanish, and such interesting guys. We laughed constantly with them, and they taught us a lot about the language and culture... It was great to hang out with people from South America who are our age. Last night we got into Puerto Natales, walked to their hostel and cooked dinner with them.

Now Katie and I are off to El Calafate, Argentina, to see a massive glacier, and then to Bariloche...

Monday, January 29, 2007

Adventure #1

Today in Plaza de Armas there was a street comedian who grabbed us out of the crowd and started joking with us (we were the ONLY gringas there and Katie is taller than anyone here, so we stick out). He tried to teach us his version of the Chilean greeting of kisses, which was a kiss per cheek and then one on the lips. We refused. haha. We figured we helped disfuse the stereotype of easy American women... We were the subjects of his act for at least ten minutes. It´s strange to stick out so clearly.

Santiago is a beautiful, charming city. I am falling for it.

F#!%

Yesterday I tried to say ¨to choose¨which is ESCOGER but I said COGER. Coger means to ¨f···¨

Oops.

Yali got an ¨ataque de la risa¨and quickly corrected me...

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Viña, lost luggage, and THE DOLL.

This morning Katie, Mariclaire and I went to La Víña, a church much like the one I go to in Evanston but here in Santiago. The pastor is the father of a friend, and it was so fun to be in a place I´ve heard of so much. I understood everything and was able to worship God in another language, which was wonderful!

What I didn´t tell you yesterday was that Katie´s luggage was taken as we left the airport, but after many phone calls, it was found! This morning, Yali answered the phone and started yelling in Spanish, ¨Katie!! La encontro su maleta!!¨ There are many wealthy Americans who come to Chile for cruises and vacations with a vacation company, and the company grabbed Katie´s suitcase thinking it was part of the cruise... But it was found. Yay.

Yesterday we walked through the city for 4-5 hours... we were going to Santa Lucia, but on our way, we walked into a ¨mar humano¨ (sea of people) who were waiting to see ¨la muneca¨ (the doll) which is a three-story wooden puppet from France. It has only visited France, London, Belgium and the last stop is Santiago... The sight is incredible!! It takes seven people to control it and dances, walks, winks, changes clothes, showers and pulls a live band behind it! We waited in a crowd of thousands of people in the streets to see it ¨wake up.¨ I held a random little boy on my shoulders so he could get a glimpse of her. I think my whiteness and broken Spanish terrified him.

Things that please me much about Santiago: There are no screens on the windows and the temperature is perfect! Kisses on the cheek when meeting people. If I look toward any edge of the city, I see mountains -- they´re brown and dry-looking but still beautiful. All the streets are lined with trees; Chicago should take note. There are chocopandos (mullets) everywhere on men AND women. Everyone is outside here - in parks, walking the streets... The metro is super clean! I like manjar - not as much as peanut butter (pipe) but it´s good! It´s like dulce de leche and we had it on crackers for breakfast. Onces. I love onces. I want onces every night. Onces is dinner here, but it´s not dinner - it´s onces. Lunch is the big meal, and then around eight, we sit down for onces = bread with tons of different toppings. Last night it was chicken, cheese, ham, fresh guacamole, pollo picante spread, vegetables, marmalade, salsa picante... mmm... and then sweet bread for dessert!

Part of me didn´t believe that men would like us just because we´re gringas. It´s true. Yesterday we were walking through the park and four men were playing soccer. Katie and I joked about how we could beat them as we walked past. Suddenly, we heard applause and ¨bravo!¨ We figured one team had scored but turned around to find that they had stopped their game to stand and cheer for us. We laughed incredulously and continued on our way. Soccer is everywhere -- also in the park was this stud three year old who was attempting a rainbow.

Last night we were too exhausted to go dancing, but tonight Yali is throwing our first ¨carrete¨. In a few hours, a handful of her friends are coming to meet us. We´ll have food and dancing and music and much conversation... Yali calls herself ¨el leon del circo¨ (the lion of the circus) because everyone comes to see her. She´s out-of-control sweet and fun. At lunch, she asked if she was ridiculous. Yes. She said, ¨Bueno!¨

Words of the day: anhelar. to yearn for. choclo. corn.

Saturday, January 27, 2007

Planes, go-go boots, and Yali.

¡Estamos en Santiago! Katie and I got into the airport this morning at 930am (630am CST). It´s absolutely beautiful outside ' its the type of day where you want to nap by an open window and let the breeze sing lullabies to you... we´re going to go and walk around soon and perhaps go dancing tonight... !

Highlights from the flights:
From Chicago to Atlanta, both flight attendents wore go-go boots and had funny names like ¨Jo W.¨ I wanted to introduce myself as Meg B. Also, 17 of George Bush´s ¨additional 20'000 troops¨were on the plane. The sun was a fiery red as it set. And, true to my nature, I looked like I had everything together, but didn´t realize I had an assigned seat, so when the true holder of my chosen seat came on board, everyone knew I didn´t really have anything together and had to walk to the back of the plane... haha.

I met Katie in Atlanta. We flew out at 10.00pm. At 1130, they served us dinner, and with white wine, we toasted the idealism of Che and enjoyed our five minutes of communism as we flew over Cuba. We also made a toast to ¨freedom and adventure¨but we made it quietly so we wouldn´t look too silly. We giggled and got really excited about everything, and the man next to us kept looking at us with a smile -- he knew we were new to Chile. We woke early to watch the sunrise and oo´d and ah´d as we flew over the coast and Andes mountains into Santiago.

Mariclaire´s (student from Loyola we met in Santiago) host mom Yali is incredible. She sent her friend Arturo with Mariclaire to the airport to meet us. We received our first Chilean greeting (aka kiss on the cheek) from him, and he drove us to meet Yali. She made us an excellent lunch, taught us our first Chilean words (she said the first word we MUST know is ¨carrete¨, which means party, because ¨chile is full of parties¨) and gives us a lot of hugs. Katie and I have already started praying that our host families in Buenos Aires are as fun as Yali, but I don´t know if it´s possible.

More to come...