20 de marzo
Last weekend I attended my first Argentine social gathering. My two young housemates, Anna, from France, and Veronica from Austria, both had their Argentine friends over on Saturday night, and graciously invited me to attend. I had read and heard that socializing is what Argentines do best, and I could hardly wait to see for myself. Anna told me that the party started at 10, so naturally, I was waiting eagerly in the living room at 10 sharp. It didn’t take me very long to realize however, that I had committed my first social no-no. In Argentina, ten o’clock does not actually mean ten o’clock. In fact, Argentines take being ‘fashionably late’ to a whole new level. For example, Argentines say I will be there “a las diez y pico,” which means at ten and a bit. “Pico” however, can mean anything from 10 minutes to an hour. The first guest didn’t arrive until at least 10:30, and the other ten continued strolling in periodically over the next two hours. This dilatory culture (that’s for you Sara) pervades all aspects of Argentine society, and everything from social events, to appointments, to even classes at the university are usually delayed by at least 15 minutes. Perception of time, or lack thereof, has struck me as one of the greatest cultural differences with the US, where punctuality is so important. So, lesson number 1: unless you want to hang out by yourself, never show up on time.
Lesson number 2: when you arrive to a party, it is necessary to greet every single guest in the room. For Argentines, this salutation entails a friendly beso, in which each person kisses the other on the left cheek. This custom applies to everyone, including men. For so much machismo here, I was surprised that it is so natural for men to kiss each other. Later on in the night I explained to an Argentine guy that in the US the beso greeting does not exist, especially between men, and he looked at me with an expression of complete incomprehension. You even greet a guest with a kiss if you have never met them before. This got a little awkward once another night at a bar when a girl, thinking my friends and I were sitting with her friends, gave each of us a kiss. Even so, this situation was not a big deal, as Argentines perceive personal boundaries very differently. Basically, if there is such thing as a personal bubble, be prepared for it to pop the moment you set foot in Argentina.
Another thing the party made very clear: Argentines love to talk. In groups of friends especially, they are all fighting for center stage. Natalia, who was sitting next to me, informed me that when Argentines come together to drink and talk, everything gets louder and faster. It also didn’t help that portenos have a whole separate set of vocabulary, called lunfardo. There were definitely moments when I wasn't sure if they were even speaking Spanish. All the guests at the party were either history or anthropology students, and were engaging in heated debates about politics, history, linguistics, etc. But then suddenly, the conversation would turn to fútbol, and how the new forward for Boca is terrible, and then back to the relativity of historical truth. Something else I found interesting was that for being so liberal, these young Argentines could also be extremely politically incorrect. There is nothing offensive about calling someone (to their face) el negro (the black), el gordo (the fat one), el enano (the dwarf), or un maricón (gay). In other words, if this conversation were overhead at Occidental College, some very serious dialoguing would go down.
Everyone left around 5:30. I am still trying to adjust to the nightlife here, which often starts around 2 or 3 and lasts until 6. So, a very enjoyable night, and a great initiation into the craziness that is Argentine social life.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Tigre
20 de marzo
Last weekend was a great way to end my ridiculously long break before starting up classes again. On Thursday the entire FLACSO program went to Tigre, a small town several hours outside of Buenos Aires. Tigre lies on the Paraná de Delta, and we took a lancha (motorboat) to arrive at our destination. The boat ride was beautiful, and I felt a little bit like I was on the African Queen, except in South America, and without Humphrey Bogart. Tigre is one of the places Argentines go to vacation, and there were some incredible houses along the water. After the boat tour, the lancha dropped us off at a small resort called Marco Polo on a tiny, secluded island which we had all to ourselves. Despite being relatively limited in space, we had a great time. I spent most of the trip relaxing on the sandy riverbank with friends during the day, and chatting inside at night, when the swarms of mosquitos (and the dreaded Dengue Fever!) came out.
Here is a picture of la lancha:
I sort of forgot that I was Argentina because everyone was speaking English, but some of the trip’s events were extremely porteño, and reminded me I was still right outside Buenos Aires. For example, for lunch we were each served a plate with two huge empanadas (a pastry stuffed with meat and vegetables). Side note- Argentines LOVE empanadas, and in Buenos Aires, you will see in the windows of nearly every other restaurant, and they are often delivered. Another side note- portenos LOVE delivery. Even a lot of the heladerías (ice cream parlors) have delivery service. Alright, back to lunch. Thinking lunch was over, I was making my way up from the table when the waiters brought us each an enormous piece of milanesa, a very thin piece of breaded and fried meat. If portenos love empanadas, then they are completely obsessed with milanesa. I have a friend whose host mom serves him milanesa every night, except when she decides to really spice things up and puts cheese and ham on top to make milanesa pizza. Luckily, my family is a little more diverse in their cooking. They also brought out a bunch of bowls heaping with salad ingredients, which we were all very excited about, considering Argentines tend to substitute salad for more meat to go with their meat. The one down side: there were no serving utensils. Though I was initially confused, this really should not have come as any surprise. Argentines share everything. The best example I can give is mate, an herbal drink served in a gourd with a bombilla (a metal straw), and which is most commonly passed around and shared. Now it is really clear to me why the H1N1 virus was such a problem here. I also had my first traditional Argentine asado, a huge spread of different cuts of meats which are cooked on an open grill. It includes nearly every imaginable part of the cow, and though some of the offerings were a little scary, I gave everything a try. So a very Argentine dining experience, and very enjoyable and relaxing trip.
Last weekend was a great way to end my ridiculously long break before starting up classes again. On Thursday the entire FLACSO program went to Tigre, a small town several hours outside of Buenos Aires. Tigre lies on the Paraná de Delta, and we took a lancha (motorboat) to arrive at our destination. The boat ride was beautiful, and I felt a little bit like I was on the African Queen, except in South America, and without Humphrey Bogart. Tigre is one of the places Argentines go to vacation, and there were some incredible houses along the water. After the boat tour, the lancha dropped us off at a small resort called Marco Polo on a tiny, secluded island which we had all to ourselves. Despite being relatively limited in space, we had a great time. I spent most of the trip relaxing on the sandy riverbank with friends during the day, and chatting inside at night, when the swarms of mosquitos (and the dreaded Dengue Fever!) came out.
Here is a picture of la lancha:
I sort of forgot that I was Argentina because everyone was speaking English, but some of the trip’s events were extremely porteño, and reminded me I was still right outside Buenos Aires. For example, for lunch we were each served a plate with two huge empanadas (a pastry stuffed with meat and vegetables). Side note- Argentines LOVE empanadas, and in Buenos Aires, you will see in the windows of nearly every other restaurant, and they are often delivered. Another side note- portenos LOVE delivery. Even a lot of the heladerías (ice cream parlors) have delivery service. Alright, back to lunch. Thinking lunch was over, I was making my way up from the table when the waiters brought us each an enormous piece of milanesa, a very thin piece of breaded and fried meat. If portenos love empanadas, then they are completely obsessed with milanesa. I have a friend whose host mom serves him milanesa every night, except when she decides to really spice things up and puts cheese and ham on top to make milanesa pizza. Luckily, my family is a little more diverse in their cooking. They also brought out a bunch of bowls heaping with salad ingredients, which we were all very excited about, considering Argentines tend to substitute salad for more meat to go with their meat. The one down side: there were no serving utensils. Though I was initially confused, this really should not have come as any surprise. Argentines share everything. The best example I can give is mate, an herbal drink served in a gourd with a bombilla (a metal straw), and which is most commonly passed around and shared. Now it is really clear to me why the H1N1 virus was such a problem here. I also had my first traditional Argentine asado, a huge spread of different cuts of meats which are cooked on an open grill. It includes nearly every imaginable part of the cow, and though some of the offerings were a little scary, I gave everything a try. So a very Argentine dining experience, and very enjoyable and relaxing trip.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Momentos Memorables
5 de marzo
Several days ago I was rudely awakened at seven A.M. by a booming din outside my window, a cacophony of drums, sirens and whistles. Thinking we were being attacked, I rushed out of my room and asked Nati, “qué está occuriendo?”. She smiled at my somewhat panicked expression and responded, “es una manifestación, algo común en Buenos Aires.” Apparently, a group of about a hundred hospital workers were leading a demonstration, or a protest, before work, and had conveniently selected the location underneath my balcony as a the ideal location. It seems that the modus operandi of the manifestación is to get on the news by creating as much noise as is humanly possible. Unfortunately, the manifestación was not a one day event: the workers have continued to beat their drums at seven A.M. for about two hours every day since. Though this is not ideal for my sleep schedule, it is exciting to watch the workers march and pound their drums and yell with so much passion. After all, my taxi driver did tell me last night that “los argentinos son muy apasionados.” Plus, I don’t ever have to worry about sleeping through my alarm.
Another interesting event occurred yesterday when I went to check out el gimnasio near my house. After explaining to me the different offerings provided by the gym, the woman at the front desk told me she would take me inside to meet my professor. I really had no idea what this meant, and just guessed that she meant someone who ran the gym. I never could have guessed that a basic memembership to the gym would include a person trainer (mi professor) named Hernán, a very buff man wearing swooshy pants who would kick my butt for an hour and a half. It was the longest and most hard core strength training workout I have ever done. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but it was quite an experience. Hernán explained to me afterwards that in Argentina having a personal trainer isn’t a luxury like it is in the US, and most gyms provide them to its members. When I was leaving he told me that next time we would do the same routine but incorporate new exercises and increase the intensity. If I follow through with this, I think I might finally be able to beat my mom in arm wrestling.
One last story. My attempt to be helpful around the house backfired last night, in the form of a massive flood in the kitchen. I was doing the dishes, when all of a sudden water came gushing out onto the floor from some unknown place underneath the sink. I started screaming, “Anna! Anna! Ayúdame, ayúdame!!!”. I watched helplessly as the water spread across the kitchen and into the hallway. Ariel came rushing in, shouting at the top of his lungs “lo rompiste! Lo rompiste” (You broke it! You broke it!). Once again, I had taken Ariel way to literally, and only when I heard him hysterically laughing inside the kitchen did I realize he was messing with me. The old pipes had overflowed, but nothing was broken. Nati had warned me on my first night that “la casa tiene muchos secretos” (the house has many secrets), and I had just discovered one, albeit the hard way.
Several days ago I was rudely awakened at seven A.M. by a booming din outside my window, a cacophony of drums, sirens and whistles. Thinking we were being attacked, I rushed out of my room and asked Nati, “qué está occuriendo?”. She smiled at my somewhat panicked expression and responded, “es una manifestación, algo común en Buenos Aires.” Apparently, a group of about a hundred hospital workers were leading a demonstration, or a protest, before work, and had conveniently selected the location underneath my balcony as a the ideal location. It seems that the modus operandi of the manifestación is to get on the news by creating as much noise as is humanly possible. Unfortunately, the manifestación was not a one day event: the workers have continued to beat their drums at seven A.M. for about two hours every day since. Though this is not ideal for my sleep schedule, it is exciting to watch the workers march and pound their drums and yell with so much passion. After all, my taxi driver did tell me last night that “los argentinos son muy apasionados.” Plus, I don’t ever have to worry about sleeping through my alarm.
Another interesting event occurred yesterday when I went to check out el gimnasio near my house. After explaining to me the different offerings provided by the gym, the woman at the front desk told me she would take me inside to meet my professor. I really had no idea what this meant, and just guessed that she meant someone who ran the gym. I never could have guessed that a basic memembership to the gym would include a person trainer (mi professor) named Hernán, a very buff man wearing swooshy pants who would kick my butt for an hour and a half. It was the longest and most hard core strength training workout I have ever done. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but it was quite an experience. Hernán explained to me afterwards that in Argentina having a personal trainer isn’t a luxury like it is in the US, and most gyms provide them to its members. When I was leaving he told me that next time we would do the same routine but incorporate new exercises and increase the intensity. If I follow through with this, I think I might finally be able to beat my mom in arm wrestling.
One last story. My attempt to be helpful around the house backfired last night, in the form of a massive flood in the kitchen. I was doing the dishes, when all of a sudden water came gushing out onto the floor from some unknown place underneath the sink. I started screaming, “Anna! Anna! Ayúdame, ayúdame!!!”. I watched helplessly as the water spread across the kitchen and into the hallway. Ariel came rushing in, shouting at the top of his lungs “lo rompiste! Lo rompiste” (You broke it! You broke it!). Once again, I had taken Ariel way to literally, and only when I heard him hysterically laughing inside the kitchen did I realize he was messing with me. The old pipes had overflowed, but nothing was broken. Nati had warned me on my first night that “la casa tiene muchos secretos” (the house has many secrets), and I had just discovered one, albeit the hard way.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Impresiones Primeras
2 de marzo
Today is only my fifth day living with my host family, but it already feels like home. I live with Natalia (Nati for short), her boyfriend Ariel, a 22 year-old from France named Anna, and a 21 year-old from Austria named Veronica. Oh, and of course Luz, a beautiful Siamese cat.
I am so glad that I was matched with Nati. She is funny, interesting and kind. She loves Tim Burton, lots of sugar, and surprisingly, could live without la carne. She is very artistic, and while she is getting her art degree, she is also working as a makeup artist for performers in plays and concerts, and doing drawings of sets for movies. Right now she is creating a huge elephant mask for a play. Nati made a huge color-coded map of the city for me, showed me how to take the subway and escorted me to the CIEE building on my first day. Ariel is also very interesting. He studied philosophy in school, and spent probably an hour talking to me about Platón y el mundo ideal. He also is really into horoscopes, and insisted that I tell him the birthdays of everyone in my family so he could interpret our family dynamics. Ariel is also very sarcastic. When I asked what kind of juice we were drinking, he responded with a straight face “de caballo” (from a horse), and last night he told me that dinner would be at 2 AM. Unfortunately it is harder for me to pick up on sarcasm in Spanish, so even if I do pick up on his jokes, it is usually too late. I didn’t really get to know Anna at all until yesterday because her mom is visiting, but I know that we will get along very well. She is studying history here, works at a nearby bakery and loves salsa dancing. She has already offered to take me dancing with her and to take me to her favorite museum. I have yet to meet Veronica, who is travelling and is coming back in two weeks.
My first night at the house went out (literally) with a bang. After only an hour or so of arriving, I decided to charge my computer. To my utter horror, the moment I stuck my adaptor in the wall, the house went black: the entire apartment building lost power. Great first impression, Ali. When I told them it was my fault and apologized profusely, they insisted that it wasn’t me, and that they had lost power several times that week because of the storm. I’m almost positive that it was my fault, but it was nice of them to say otherwise. Anyways, we had a lovely candlelit dinner, and a very memorable first day.
Today is only my fifth day living with my host family, but it already feels like home. I live with Natalia (Nati for short), her boyfriend Ariel, a 22 year-old from France named Anna, and a 21 year-old from Austria named Veronica. Oh, and of course Luz, a beautiful Siamese cat.
I am so glad that I was matched with Nati. She is funny, interesting and kind. She loves Tim Burton, lots of sugar, and surprisingly, could live without la carne. She is very artistic, and while she is getting her art degree, she is also working as a makeup artist for performers in plays and concerts, and doing drawings of sets for movies. Right now she is creating a huge elephant mask for a play. Nati made a huge color-coded map of the city for me, showed me how to take the subway and escorted me to the CIEE building on my first day. Ariel is also very interesting. He studied philosophy in school, and spent probably an hour talking to me about Platón y el mundo ideal. He also is really into horoscopes, and insisted that I tell him the birthdays of everyone in my family so he could interpret our family dynamics. Ariel is also very sarcastic. When I asked what kind of juice we were drinking, he responded with a straight face “de caballo” (from a horse), and last night he told me that dinner would be at 2 AM. Unfortunately it is harder for me to pick up on sarcasm in Spanish, so even if I do pick up on his jokes, it is usually too late. I didn’t really get to know Anna at all until yesterday because her mom is visiting, but I know that we will get along very well. She is studying history here, works at a nearby bakery and loves salsa dancing. She has already offered to take me dancing with her and to take me to her favorite museum. I have yet to meet Veronica, who is travelling and is coming back in two weeks.
My first night at the house went out (literally) with a bang. After only an hour or so of arriving, I decided to charge my computer. To my utter horror, the moment I stuck my adaptor in the wall, the house went black: the entire apartment building lost power. Great first impression, Ali. When I told them it was my fault and apologized profusely, they insisted that it wasn’t me, and that they had lost power several times that week because of the storm. I’m almost positive that it was my fault, but it was nice of them to say otherwise. Anyways, we had a lovely candlelit dinner, and a very memorable first day.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
La Playa en Punta del Este
25 de febrero
Last night we got back from Punta del Este, a beach town in Uruguay. It was a short, but very fun trip. We took the buquebus, an hour long ferry boat ride and then two two-hour long bus rides. Nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the man sitting behind us who was snoring louder than I had ever thought humanly possible, not to mention making some pretty awful smells. The guy sitting next to me on the bus didn’t know any English, but loved American music. This is something very common here. A lot of people I have met LOVE American rock music. Linkin Park, Guns N' Roses, and Jimi Hendrix are just a few which seem to have drawn many argentine fans. Some of the bands/singers they ask me about I don’t even recognize, and then I think they decide I am lying, and not really from the US. But anyways, the man on the bus was very excited I spoke English, because he wanted me to translate several of his favorite Linkin Park songs.
A view from inside the bus:
By the time we arrived in Punta del Este, Emily and I were starving. We went to the first restaurant we saw and ordered an unknown dish off the menu called chovizno, a famous dish in Uruguay. What the waiter brought us took a love of meat to an entirely new level. It was an enormous plate of steak, piled high with ham, bacon, mayonaise and fried eggs. Not to mention a heaping mound of french fries. It was a scary sight, and we devoured it quickly.
The next day we spent at the beach, which was lovely. The weather was strange, and changed from sunny and beautiful to a monsoon a couple of times, but we just switched between laying on the beach and hanging out in a café. Unfortunately I did not wear sunscreen and acquired a lobster-like appearance just in time to meet everyone on my program.
Here is a picture of me lodged in a statue at the beach called "los dedos" (the fingers):
That night we met three guys from Israel and had a very fun time playing a card game they taught us called Yaniv (and I won!) and going out dancing later. We didn't get back to Buenos Aires until around midnight, and were getting into bed when our Argentine friends from earlier in the week called to inform they were outside the hotel and ready to go out. They are not lying when they say that Argentina never sleeps.
This is Emily and me at a bar in Buenos Aires with our Argentine and Brazilian friends:
Last night we got back from Punta del Este, a beach town in Uruguay. It was a short, but very fun trip. We took the buquebus, an hour long ferry boat ride and then two two-hour long bus rides. Nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the man sitting behind us who was snoring louder than I had ever thought humanly possible, not to mention making some pretty awful smells. The guy sitting next to me on the bus didn’t know any English, but loved American music. This is something very common here. A lot of people I have met LOVE American rock music. Linkin Park, Guns N' Roses, and Jimi Hendrix are just a few which seem to have drawn many argentine fans. Some of the bands/singers they ask me about I don’t even recognize, and then I think they decide I am lying, and not really from the US. But anyways, the man on the bus was very excited I spoke English, because he wanted me to translate several of his favorite Linkin Park songs.
A view from inside the bus:
By the time we arrived in Punta del Este, Emily and I were starving. We went to the first restaurant we saw and ordered an unknown dish off the menu called chovizno, a famous dish in Uruguay. What the waiter brought us took a love of meat to an entirely new level. It was an enormous plate of steak, piled high with ham, bacon, mayonaise and fried eggs. Not to mention a heaping mound of french fries. It was a scary sight, and we devoured it quickly.
The next day we spent at the beach, which was lovely. The weather was strange, and changed from sunny and beautiful to a monsoon a couple of times, but we just switched between laying on the beach and hanging out in a café. Unfortunately I did not wear sunscreen and acquired a lobster-like appearance just in time to meet everyone on my program.
Here is a picture of me lodged in a statue at the beach called "los dedos" (the fingers):
That night we met three guys from Israel and had a very fun time playing a card game they taught us called Yaniv (and I won!) and going out dancing later. We didn't get back to Buenos Aires until around midnight, and were getting into bed when our Argentine friends from earlier in the week called to inform they were outside the hotel and ready to go out. They are not lying when they say that Argentina never sleeps.
This is Emily and me at a bar in Buenos Aires with our Argentine and Brazilian friends:
Monday, February 22, 2010
¡Bienvenidas a Buenos Aires! Mis impresiones primeras
I knew I was on another continent when upon my arrival, I asked an elderly man for directions. After responding to my question, he proceeded to grab my nose and give it a gentle shake. Right away I knew that I would love the porteños. The people here have been friendly, gracious and lively. Let’s just say that Emily and have more than a few questions, and everyone has extremely helpful in giving us directions, helping us use the phones in los locutorios, fixing our doorknob when I accidentally pulled it out of the hotel door, recommending restaurants and explaining menus. Yesterday it was pouring rain, and a man who works at our hotel told me that I should roll up my pants so they wouldn't get wet. When I folded them up to my knees (not realizing I had just committed a fashion sin in Buenos Aires) he said “no, no, siéntate” and proceeded to sit me down on the lobby couch and roll my pants for me in a much more fashion-savvy way.
Something else I love about the people is their accent. I was warned about it being strange and even annoying, but I think that it is beautiful, and a pleasure just listening to people speak. Sometimes I catch myself not paying attention to what people say and just appreciating the sound of their voice. For words with the letter “ll,” which is normally pronounced as a “yuh” (like in quesadilla), Argentines would “jah.” Quesadillas are not part of the diet here, but if they used the word they would say “quesadeejah.” I apologize in advance to my friends who have spent time in Chile and are not fans: after living here for five months I can’t imagine that I won’t toss in a “me jahmo” every so often.
Speaking of food, it is amazing. Emily and I went out to dinner last night, where I had the most delicious steak I have ever tasted. It would have been sacrilegious to put steak sauce on this cut of meat. After I took my first bite, I exclaimed “Holy cow!”, and Emily said, “no pun intended.” We laughed for quite a while about that one. There are also some foreign dining customs here. After our very first meal in Buenos Aires, Emily asked for the check. After giving us a strange look, the waiter went to the back restaurant and said to his coworker, “La cuenta hahahahahaha.” Apparently at some restaurants you’re just supposed to know how much to pay. I still haven’t quite figured out when it is okay to ask for the bill, and have accepted that I will be learning these sorts of things by making mistakes. The menu can be equally misterious. We were looking at our options, and were rather shocked that they served “ojo de bife,” which we translated as cow’s eye. Only later did it dawn upon us that that must mean rib eye.
Me and Emily at dinner, with our waiter, Eduardo:
I am so happy that I chose to come to Buenos Aires, and would not want to be anywhere else in the world. The people are vivacious and the culture is rich. I love exploring the city, and most of all, just talking to people. Now I am excited for our next adventure: we are taking the buquebus to Punta del Este, a boat which goes from Buenos Aires to a city by the beach in Uruguay. ¡Hasta luego!
This is me in front of the Congress building a few hours after arriving in BA:
Something else I love about the people is their accent. I was warned about it being strange and even annoying, but I think that it is beautiful, and a pleasure just listening to people speak. Sometimes I catch myself not paying attention to what people say and just appreciating the sound of their voice. For words with the letter “ll,” which is normally pronounced as a “yuh” (like in quesadilla), Argentines would “jah.” Quesadillas are not part of the diet here, but if they used the word they would say “quesadeejah.” I apologize in advance to my friends who have spent time in Chile and are not fans: after living here for five months I can’t imagine that I won’t toss in a “me jahmo” every so often.
Speaking of food, it is amazing. Emily and I went out to dinner last night, where I had the most delicious steak I have ever tasted. It would have been sacrilegious to put steak sauce on this cut of meat. After I took my first bite, I exclaimed “Holy cow!”, and Emily said, “no pun intended.” We laughed for quite a while about that one. There are also some foreign dining customs here. After our very first meal in Buenos Aires, Emily asked for the check. After giving us a strange look, the waiter went to the back restaurant and said to his coworker, “La cuenta hahahahahaha.” Apparently at some restaurants you’re just supposed to know how much to pay. I still haven’t quite figured out when it is okay to ask for the bill, and have accepted that I will be learning these sorts of things by making mistakes. The menu can be equally misterious. We were looking at our options, and were rather shocked that they served “ojo de bife,” which we translated as cow’s eye. Only later did it dawn upon us that that must mean rib eye.
Me and Emily at dinner, with our waiter, Eduardo:
I am so happy that I chose to come to Buenos Aires, and would not want to be anywhere else in the world. The people are vivacious and the culture is rich. I love exploring the city, and most of all, just talking to people. Now I am excited for our next adventure: we are taking the buquebus to Punta del Este, a boat which goes from Buenos Aires to a city by the beach in Uruguay. ¡Hasta luego!
This is me in front of the Congress building a few hours after arriving in BA:
Thursday, February 18, 2010
¡Adiós!
I never thought that I would create a blog, but I suppose that now more than ever is the time for trying new things. I am leaving for Buenos Aires, Argentina tomorrow (!!!), where I will living for the next five months. As of today, that is pretty much the extent of what I know. I will not find out where I'm living and with whom, and what classes I'm taking until I arrive. I can hardly wait for my adventure to begin! I hope to use this blog to process and record my experiences, and to share with you what I'm up to. If you'd like, you can reach me by e-mail at acaditz@oxy.edu or Skype (my user name is ali.caditz).
Mail can be sent to:
Alison Caditz
CIEE Program
FLACSO
Ayacucho 555
(1026) Buenos Aires
ARGENTINA
Mail can be sent to:
Alison Caditz
CIEE Program
FLACSO
Ayacucho 555
(1026) Buenos Aires
ARGENTINA
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)