Viajar y aprovechar

lo que me pasó...en Patagonia

2010-02-02T08:16:00.000-08:00

primero...eso es lo que pasó a mi panza...

And finally, Patagonia...

lo que me pasó...en Iguazú

2010-02-01T08:35:00.000-08:00

After el noroeste, Iguazú...

lo que me pasó...en Salta y Jujuy

2010-02-01T07:32:00.000-08:00

I'm in the process of writing a final blog post to describe my final month of traveling in Argentina: lo que vi, hice, comí, sentí (o sea, lo que me pasó.) Entonces...eso es lo que me pasó en Salta y Jujuy.

el domingo en San Telmo

2009-08-24T19:14:00.000-07:00

Ayer fui con mi prima - ¡hola sam! - a la feria de San Telmo. Era una tarde re-linda - tomamos clericot de vino tinto y comimos una picada de verduras en La Poesía, un café tipico de Buenos Aires. Después hicimos un paseo por la feria y me compré una chaqueta de cuero. Costó un montón pero son siete meses que estoy acá y todavía no me compré nada. Así que bueno, vale la pena. Pues es re-linda y me queda buenísimo. La voy a usar con mi boina en Baltimore para hacerme la canchera...

Acá pongo algunas fotos de la gente de San Telmo...¡que disfrutes!

un día en el campo, part 2

2009-08-15T17:00:00.000-07:00

Here are some more pictures from my afternoon at La Rural...

These two men were charlando- across the tables - over a choripan. Classic.

I really wish I could sleep like this...

This guy drew the short straw and was in the cage next to the peacocks.

¡Que rico! Chocolate-covered, dulce de leche filled churros...

Boina? Check. Impressive moustache? Check.

Yes, that's a sheep.

Oh, and I completely forgot to mention another favourite part of the fair - the propinquity of the cows to the parrilla (Argentina BBQ). I tried to capture just how close the live cows were to their less fortunate brethren...

On the left, the parrilla; on the right, the cows. The journey from "field" to plate has never been so short.

The complete bizarre-ness of the scene seemed to be completely lost on the argentinos. Maybe it was just weird for me, a former vegetarian, for people to be eating bife while 10 feet away, this was staring at you:

And yes, I know it's just part of life, the Circle of Life, if you will (cue Mufasa's monologue.) People eat animals. I would even say it's natural. But still, I prefer not to have my meal-in-its-former-life stare at me. Sure, it's just a cow, but I could see it in his eyes - he was judging me.

un día en el campo

2009-08-15T09:20:00.000-07:00

About a week and half ago I went to La Rural for the “fair.”

Every year prize-winning animals from across Argentina are brought to La Rural for an “Exposición de Ganadería, Agricultura, e Industria Internacional”, or a sort of state fair-esque event. Cows, horses, chickens, sheep, and the like are brought on display for porteños and their children to gawk at. Or so I thought.

I initially had no intention of going – the thought of thousands of loud kids running around barnyard animals had no appeal to me. But after several of my students had explained that it was typically Argentine event and represented a different part of Argentine society, I thought I would give it a go.

Ok, in reality I heard that in addition to the animals, there were vendors selling artisanal cheese, cured meats, dulce de leche and other sweets. Moreover I was told that free samples were involved, and lots of ‘em. I’m convinced that there are certain universal pleasures in this world, things that are guaranteed to bring a smile to your face, no matter your circumstances. And no, I’m not waxing profound…I’m simply alluding to things like bubbles, magnets, miniature horses, and free samples. Seriously, if you randomly saw a miniature horse walking on the sidewalk (as I did on my way to La Rural), would you not fail to smile? As for bubbles and magnets, maybe that’s a bit puerile, but come on – how cool are magnets?

But I digress. So it was the prospect of free samples more so than animal-gawking that drew me to La Rural, but I was extremely glad that I went. I had tried to go on Sunday, but upon seeing the 5-block-long line, I decided against it. (I later read in a newspaper that around 100,000 people attended La Rural on Sunday alone.) I tried again on Tuesday, and despite it being the last day, it was not too crowded.

And for me, it was magical.

Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve been in the concrete jungle of Buenos Aires for too long, or perhaps it’s because I’m from the suburbs and have some glorified notion of farms, but it was refreshing (metaphorically, not literally; the entire place smelled of hay/shit) to see the animals. I’m not a big fan of zoos or spending an afternoon staring at caged animals, so initially I was a bit turned off by the whole set-up. But this repugnance was quickly taken over by sheer wonder. Yes, I’m just talking about cows, but these were cows. Not just any ol’ Bessie. While I had thought that I would brush quickly by the animals and head straight for the food, I found myself gawking and pointing in amazement along with all the porteño children I had intended to avoid.

Looking back, I’m not sure why I expected the animals would be such a bore. El campo – the farms and countryside – has always been the heart of Argentina, a country which is, to a great extent, an agricultural country. Argentine beef is renowned throughout the world, so it’s no surprise that the country’s most-prized animals are impressive. And fuckin’ huge!

I would have to say that the cows were my favourite, followed by the sheep – all different varieties – and chickens. Again, barnyard animals can seem so mundane, but these animals were truly beautiful (and it’s not just because of my untrained eye.) Here are some photos, though as always, I don’t think they do the animals justice (but I’ll blame that on the cages and not my mediocre photography skills.)

(Ok, scratch that, I'll do a separate post with pictures; my computer is acting up.)

Beyond the animals, the people were my favourite part of the fair. So I have this weird thing about taking candid pictures of old and interesting looking people…it’s a bit creepy, I know, but it’s what I do. And La Rural was full of just those kind of people. Many were older and wealthy - I assume they own a lot of land. With their fur coats and multiple diamonds, they reminded me, to a certain extent, of the country club crowd back in the States (not that I have frequented a country club.) Others, however, were the more traditional farmhands and workers. Here are some candid pictures – pardon the blurriness, I was trying to be stealthy (although I almost always failed and was noticed, but the men didn’t seem to mind that I was taking their picture.)

Again, I'll post them later...

As strange as it sounds, I was completely inspired by the fashion…at the agricultural fair. Seriously. If I were a dude, I’m pretty sure I would grow a thick mustache, don a boina (beret), some bombachas de campo (gaucho pants), thick leather boots, a poncho, and look like these guys:

I did buy myself a boina, and I’m determined to make it work. There are some people who wear hats and look impeccably chic, and others who look tragic in hats, no matter the style. I unfortunately fall into the latter group. But these boinas were adjustable, meaning it actually fits my big head, so I haven’t given up hope…yet. I will rock a boina, it’s just a matter of time.

The free food samples did not disappoint, either. I’m pretty sure my new favourite words en castellano are “Vení a probar!” (Come and try!) And come and try I did…several times. Outside were the cheese, cured meats, and pastry vendors. After making the rounds – several times over – I decided to actually sit and have a choripan. Oh, how I loves the choripan. It’s so simple – a chorizo (sausage), bland white bread (which I otherwise dislike and avoid) and chimichurri….lots of it. I topped it off with a dulce de leche-filled, chocolate-covered churro. Divine. After which, I felt like this:

So all in all, a wonderful afternoon. It fit in well with the book I am currently reading, Wendell Berry’s The Unsettling of America, a fascinating account of the state of crisis in American agriculture and how this crisis reflects a broader crisis of values in American society. Though it was originally published around 30 years ago, its themes still resonate today.

Oh, and did I mention that my wonderful cousin Sam is in town? Look, Sam, you’re on my blog!

But seriously, it’s great to have some family in town (and not just because she has treated me to dinner several times…and by ‘she’ I mean my aunt and uncle – thanks, Ro & Jeff!)

She’s studying abroad here, and listening to her talk about her experience thus far makes me nostalgic for my year in Bologna. Today I’m even more nostalgic, as one year ago today I left Bologna…but enough of that. I’m going to check out Caminos y Sabores (another foodie event at La Rural) and Terra Madre Argentina…

¿ya?

2009-07-24T15:34:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I went to Colonia, Uruguay to get my tourist visa renewed.

Side note: Tourist visas last 90 days, meaning that every 3 months you need to leave the country – if only for several hours. If you overstay your visa, you will have to pay a fine upon leaving the country. While this used to be less than the cost of the trip to Colonia, it has recently been raised to $300. (A round trip ticket on the one-hour ferry costs about $280.) I’ve heard that if you overstay your visa more than three times, you are henceforth banished from Argentina. I don’t how true this is, but it’s not something you want to find out the hard way.

Colonia is a quiet town which boasts a light house and a quaint (if a bit touristy) historical center. It has the obvious bonus of not being Buenos Aires, meaning it’s quiet and you can breathe and think more easily. When we went three months ago it was the end of April, and we slept on the beach after enjoying a long lunch outside. Upon waking up, we found a great little café where we devoured delicious chocolate chip cookies and watched the sun set. It was, in a word, wonderful.

This past Saturday was cold and misty/rainy, putting a damper on our six-hour trip. So instead of wandering around the cobble-stoned streets, we found a restaurant with a warm fire and decided to stay there.

I’m not sure what prices are like in the rest of Colonia – the more modern, less touristy part of the city – or the rest of the country, for that matter. but most of the restaurants we saw were very expensive. We were told that 1 peso argentino = 5.5 pesos uruguayos; luckily all places seem to accept pesos argentinos. But our lunch – which consisted of two chorizos, a morcilla (yea, I know it’s gross, but I’m obsessed and can’t help it), papas fritas, provoleta, and three aguas came to AR$150, or $50 each, plus tip. Slightly ridiculous, when considering that we ordered the cheaper items. In Buenos Aires, chorizo and morcilla are often sold on the streets, and even when in a nice parilla they are served as appetizers and cost about $6. So be prepared for the inexplicably higher prices in Colonia.

I think I had mentioned the chocolate chip cookie café in another post. We made an effort to find the café again, and considering Colonia’s size it was not difficult. Though I’m a bit reluctant to give up the name of the café, lest it become too well-known, it would be a bit presumptuous of me to think that one comment in my blog would send masses of people to overwhelm this gem. Besides, it’s a great spot that deserves business, in my opinion. So check it out – Lentas Maravillas, Santa Rita 61. It lives up to its name of un lugar sin apuro; if I had more time I would spend hours pouring over their collection of art and cook books and foreign literature (with caffé and chocolate chip cookies as fuel, obvio.)

As my second trip to Colonia, it conveniently marked – albeit a bit prematurely – the six-month point of my Buenos Aires experience. After my initial how-the-hell-has-it-already-been-six-months? reaction, it immediately put me in a contemplative mood: what have I done so far, what have I learned, how have I changed, and what do I hope to do and learn and see in my remaining time in Argentina? There are frustrating moments of reflection when you think, “I’ve been living here for a while, and yet I still sound like blabbering fool whenever I speak Spanish” or, “I’ve only really been in Buenos Aires, and even still I’ve only seen a quarter of the city.” Such thoughts beg the question, what have I been doing all this time? In such moments, I like to remember that often it’s the seemingly innocuous or mundane moments which constitute much more of our lives than we sometimes would like. Yet these moments are not devoid of value; although the change they bring is more imperceptible, it exists nonetheless. Almost inexplicably you are not the person you once were; you seem to change imperceptibly. But once you look back, it hits you, and you realize that the right combination of the quotidian and the extraordinary have brought you to where you are today.

In my attempt at profundity I fear I have become, yet again, quite incoherent. To be more concrete, I’ll say that last week, when I went to an institute that I work for, I started speaking in Spanish with the secretary. Upon hearing my Spanish my boss, who was in her cubicle and couldn’t see me come in, got up and asked who was speaking Spanish so well. (Pardon my bragging.) It was in that moment that I thought, despite all the frustrations inherent in learning a foreign language, I have been making significant progress. Sometimes the external reinforcement is needed to make us stop and take stock of how far we’ve come.

Moreover, I’ve gotten to what is, for me, one of the most fun parts of learning a language – picking up on all the little words that people use, the accompanying hand gestures, and then realizing how many people say the same words in the exact same manner. For me, once I get to this point, I feel a certain sense of ownership, like I have cracked the secret code, making the language mine. I don’t mean to say that it’s my language, or the language in which I predominantly speak or think in, merely that it’s mine. I suppose its one of those things that you have to experience to understand. In Italy it was words like cioè, guarda, dici, and che cazzo ne so?, (which, deprived of a context and tone are meaningless) among others which made Italian mine. En castellano, it’s words like este, mirá, dale, todo bien, and even the particular way of pronouncing “ehm” which I love. Yes, I know these are all very basic vocabulary, but for me they are much more, as they have connected me to castellano in a way which I didn’t feel for quite some time. And when you don’t feel connected to a language, it is distant and impossible and discouraging.

I’ve also somehow become a real teacher. A new teacher at the one of the businesses I work for shadowed two of my lessons last week, so I found myself explaining the general structure of my lessons, the materials I use, etc. As I’m normally on the other end of this conversation, it was a bit odd to be talking as though I knew what I was doing. (Sidenote: I’m pretty much convinced that none of us every really knows what the hell we’re doing, it’s just that some people are better at pretending than others.) But then I realized I do, in fact, know what I’m doing, at least to a certain extent. I’ve amassed two binders full of materials, much of which is activities I have made myself. How did this happen? Slowly, but surely.

Of course, as soon as you begin to feel connected it seems like it’s time to go. While my time has not yet come (put that way it sounds like I’m dying rather than just going home to Baltimore), I have been sort of feeling the phenomenon of pre-nostalgia, or of nostalgia-for-things-that-will-be. (Is there a better word for this? I’d love to know.) Meaning, quite simply, that even though I’m still in Buenos Aires, I get sad thinking of the things that I will miss once I’ve left. Which is stupid, to a certain extent, because I’m unnecessarily becoming sad, but also good, to a certain extent, because it makes you realize how lucky you are and makes you want to take advantage of the time you have left. I won’t go into all the little things that induce feelings of this type of nostalgia; I’ll save that for a later date.

This particular brand of nostalgia is not to be confused with another, that of nostalgia-for-things-that-never-were. Our memories often play tricks on us, and I’ve also been experiencing this emotion more frequently than I care for. It has been induced most often after talking with my family on Skype and hearing of summer crab feasts and get-togethers, among other things. I find myself longing for home, though it’s usually a fleeting feeling, lasting only until I remember that life back in the suburbs of Baltimore, while not awful, was not particularly stimulating. I remember this and take a deep breath, knowing that I’ll be going back before I know it; I can deal with all the conflicting emotions then.

bust out your barbijo, here comes la gripe porcina!

2009-07-01T08:55:00.000-07:00

So it seems la gripe porcina - swine flu - is on the rise in Argentina. According to the New York Times, 35 people have died "locally", which I assume means the entire province of Buenos Aires. It was announced yesterday that schools and universities will close starting next Monday. Normally, the last two weeks of July are winter break, but the government has decided to start the break early as a precaution. One of my students is a doctor, and according to him, the current situation is much worse than the media and government would like us to believe. When I mentioned the death count, he said that in reality the figure is much higher. Well, isn't this magical?

Oh, and Happy Canada Day! Here's a little piece (from the NY Times, again) about what some Canadian expats miss about Canada.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/01/opinion/01canadaday.html?pagewanted=1

What do I miss about Canada/Montréal? I would have to say Jean-Talon market, the biggest open-air market in North America, is up there on my list. And the bizarre/ugly/awesome québécois accent. Loonies and toonies are great, especially because they are easy to come by - imagine not having to ration your change! And the obvious, "eh?" It's such a great and versatile word, eh? (Wow, I'm clever.)

fin de junio updates & recommendations.

2009-06-30T06:47:00.000-07:00

Yet again, I have neglected my blog. Apologies. And yet again, I find myself sans excuse. As the five-month-mark approaches, I feel the need to write something, however brief, to keep my faithful readers (Hi, Mom) updated.

My last post ended on a bitter note: I was bitching – my normal state, it seems – about the lack of heat in my home, and at the time I had had enough and was ready to pack up my shit and go. As soon as I found a new place, I said, I was outta there, and my roommate would have to deal.

Funny story. Turns out I’m still writing from good ol’ calle El Salvador. I haven’t moved. In the end, I am the one having to bancarsela.

Shortly after I told my roommate about my plans to move, she gave in and bought an electric heater for my room. So now I can live, work, and sleep quite comfortably in my room. Granted, I’ve remained somewhat isolated here, as the rest of the house is still uncomfortably cold. But beggars can’t be choosers, eh?

Moreover, the apartment search was going no where fast. I saw about 10 places or so, and none of them were just right. Perhaps I was too Goldilocks-esque in my criteria, but at the end of the day I didn’t find anything that would justify paying significantly more rent. And I’m lazy. When the prospect of actually having to pack up all shit started to materialize I thought, “well, everything’s here now…it might as well stay here.” So stay I have and stay I will.

Also, there may (or may not) be a slight change of plans, if all goes according to plan. Meaning there’s a slight possibility I’ll move to another part of Argentina for an apprenticeship (no, not internship; apprenticeship – how 19^thcentury/bad-ass is that?) in August or September – in which case I might as well stay put for another month or so. I’m waiting to hear back from my potential hosts, and until then I’m loath to divulge any more details. Hopefully by the end of this week I’ll know more.

So, what have I been up to? Good question. The past couple of weeks have gone by so quickly, and when I look back on them and try to recount everything that has happened, not much comes to mind. Really I’ve just been busy with classes; somehow or another I’ve gotten into a routine: I teach several classes a day, and then plan for the next day’s lesson at night. Yes, the routine is good: teaching is becoming more easy, more natural, and I have less and less material to create as I’m recycling my lessons. But I’m also the sort of person who begins to chafe once I have settled a bit; as soon as I’m comfortable part of me wants a change of scene (although yes, there is the lazy part of me that whines but it’s so comfortable here!) I’m itching to get out of BsAs and travel, but I also know that it would be better to keep working now and travel later when the weather is better.

Yes, here in the southern hemisphere it’s winter. Though it was nice to rub it in everyone’s face when I was sunbathing at February, now I have to listen to my family’s tales of picking crabs on our deck in the warm summer sun. I’m a bit jealous, to say the least. If I had been smart, I would have planned to go home right about now so that I would have two summers in a row. Beat the system, if you will. But not really, because four months abroad, for me, is not enough.

To be fair, winter in BsAs (so far) has not been that cold. It’s been in the upper 40s recently, and though it will probably get a bit colder (July being the coldest month) it won’t be getting Canada-cold, and so I shouldn’t complain.

But even so, the cold weather has completely fucked with my sense of time. The other day, for instance, I thought of Christmas, and got excited because, hell, it’s cold, it must be Christmas soon! Right? Hold the phone, not so much. But Christmas or no Christmas, I’ll be mulling some Malbec soon enough.

So as much as I hate to say it, it’s been same old, same old around here, at least in my day-to-day life. I have a couple café/restaurant recommendations, so here goes:

Status – Virrey Cevallos 178, Monserrat – I’ve been to this Peruvian restaurant twice and have enjoyed it both times. It’s great food at a good price. I’m no connoisseur of Peruvian food, but the crowds of people make me think that this is the authentic stuff. There are many fish dishes (which are very welcome in this city) and some are even spicy (do mine eyes deceive me? Spicy…in Buenos Aires? Yes, they are indeed a bit picante.) I went a couple days ago with two friends, and we each got a pisco sour and split three main courses (all of which were fairly large portions.) I ordered the ceviche mixto – a mix of raw calamari, mussels (possibly?) and some kind of fish – and though it’s not exactly a winter dish, it really hit the spot. Ceviche is kind of my latest obsession…I know, a raw fish dish isn’t exactly craveworthy for most people, but damn, it’s good.

Oui Oui – Nicaruaga 6068 – This is a small café in Palermo Hollywood. Actually, there is a café and then almacén, or small, general store, but both places seem to have the same café menu. It’s a cozy, French-style bakery/café that is very popular, particularly among the expat crowd. I’ve been there several times and English always seems to be the dominant language among the clientele. One possible explanation is the bagels (as in Europe, bagels in Buenos Aires are practically non-existent.) Other menu items – fresh salads with legitimate lettuce (I’m sorry, iceberg doesn’t count) and savoury ingredients like avocado, goat cheese (!) and sun dried tomatoes and whole wheat bread sandwiches - also attract the expats. So if you’re willing to put up with crowds and pay a bit more (a salad is around $25 AR, but in my opinion, it’s worth it), check it out.

La Poesía – Bolivar y Chile, San Telmo – This is a favourite haunt of mine; it’s one of those places where you can sit, have a caffé and then spend the whole afternoon reading and people-watching. It’s quite cozy, though it can get a bit loud with people coming and going. It’s no secret, so you’re likely to find crowds of tourists and porteños alike. It’s a five-ten minute walk from Plaza Dorrego, making it a great place to relax after perusing the (amazing) antique fair on Sundays.

Los ojos del surrealismo – Abasto Shopping – This is an exhibition of over 230 works by the brilliant Dalí, including a series of Tarot card and Don Quijote-inspired pieces. Though I’ve been to many Dalí exhibitions, he never ceases to fascinate me; this one was no exception. Here’s an article (en castellano) about the exhibit:

http://www.telam.com.ar/vernota.php?tipo=N&idPub=149761&id=297062&dis=1&sec=7

It opened a couple of weeks ago, and if I’m not mistaken will stay until August. At AR$35 it’s a bit pricey (though there’s a discount for students on weekdays), but I think it was worth it.

Chipá vendors – Retiro – I won’t go into my chipá obsession again (see my last post). Suffice to say I was in the Retiro neighbourhood (ok, in reality I went 15 minutes out of my way to get there) and so hit up one of the chipá vendors. I was not disappointed. This particuar chipá was excellent: a lot of cheese, probably more than the traditional chipá, in fact. There was also a bit of anís, which I had not had before. I may or may not be planning another trip there for some time this week.

Finally, elections (congressional, provincial, and municipal) were held yesterday. I’m still trying to catch up on Argentine politics, so I’ll just post a link to an article in the New York Times lest I sound like an ignoramus.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/30/world/americas/30argentina.html?ref=americas

And thank you, Governor Sanford, for making the word “hypocrite” easier to explain to my students.

food & frío.

2009-06-02T18:33:00.000-07:00

Here's another interesting article about Buenos Aires, this time focusing on the food scene:

http://food.theatlantic.com/abroad/what-makes-a-great-food-city.php

I haven't been the biggest fan of the food here - blame it on my preference for fresh fruit and vegetables and my year in Italy (once you've gone to da Michele, you will never be the same. I guarantee it.) I came here with an open mind - I knew it would be folly to try to go back to vegetarianism - and an assumption that high quality produce would be readily available. I've been disappointed. Yes, verdulería are a dime a dozen, but the quality is often sub-par. And don't even get me started on the bread. The bland, white bread. It really is a shame.

However, I've been here for four months now, and in that time I've found places where I can get better produce and (believe it or not) some really good bread. I highly recommend Hausbrot - a German style bakery-chain with several locations in the city. I've been to the one right outside the Alto Palermo Shopping and in Jumbo on Avenida Bullrich. I go there once a week to get my loaf of Fermento Natural de Centeno (natural rye) and a couple whole-wheat, veggie-stuffed empanadas. Es muy rico.

Anyway, I've managed to deal. But that doesn't mean that I can't bitch every now and then about the general lack of flavour and spicyness. It's a common complaint among expats, and this article seems to sum up the sentiment.

I've been meaning to explain the chipa/empanada induced coma that I mentioned a couple posts ago, so here goes.

Thanks to a reader's comment on this blog, I found out about cooking courses offered by a woman, Teresita, in her home in Adrogué, a suburb located about 20 km outside of Buenos Aires. After checking out the website - www.try2cook.com - I signed up for the empanadas cooking class. It seemed like a great idea for anyone who 1) loves food and is trying to learn how to cook; 2) wants to learn more about Argentine culture (food being the consummate manifestation of culture) 3) wants to show off to their friends back in the States. I mean impart one's knowledge. So I contacted Teresita, booked a place in the class, and hopped on a train to Adrogué.

I should have prefaced this story with a brief explanation of my obsession with chipá.

Ok, so I am obsessed with chipá. What is chipá, you ask? I'll save you time and summarize the Wikipedia entry (but you should definitely do a google images search of it.) It's a traditional cheese-bread of Paraguay, making it paraguayo. (Sidenote: 'paraguayo' ties with 'uruguayo' for my favourite words en castellano. Altogether now: pah-rah-gwah-sho. And, oo-roo-gwah-sho. If saying that doesn't bring a smile to your face, then nothing will. Well, except maybe some fresh chipá.) It's made with manioc flour, giving it a distinct texture; when made well, it squeaks as you chew it. It sort of reminds me of an asiago cheese bread, but much better. It's not very popular here in Argentina; I've read (yea, I'm that cool and did some research) that in Paraguay there are chiperos - chipa vendors - selling fresh chipa every day on the streets. I've come across it in several confitería in Buenos Aires, but the real stuff (or at least what I think is the real stuff) can be found at the main bus station in Retiro. I'm not normally in the Retiro area, and because the area around the bus station is quite the clusterfuck, I try to avoid it. And so, sadly, I rarely get good chipá. But no worries - you can also find it wherever there is a large Paraguayo population, which tends to be in a lower-class neighbourhoods, such as the area around the Constitución train station. Oh, and would you look at that - I just happened to be taking the train from Constitución to Adrogué. (this in no way encouraged me to go to the empanadas cooking class.)

So I obviously hit up a couple chipá vendors - for purposes of comparison - before taking the train to Adrogué. Being only a short train ride - about half an hour - away, the ticket was cheap, though finding out which train to take was a bit more difficult. I ended up on the wrong train, but, quickly realising my mistake, got off and switched trains. I may or may not have hit up another chipá vendor while waiting for the right train.

I soon made it to Adrogué and headed straight to Teresita's home. The little that I saw of the town seemed nice; the quiet and slow pace were a great respite from the busy-busy-busy of Buenos Aires. Upon meeting Teresita, I was immediately informed of a problem - "no hay agua." Why am I not surprised, I thought. I suppose it was a bit comforting to know that it's not just my shitbox apartment (more on the bitterness later) that suddenly and inexplicably loses running water. I was quickly assured that we could manage without water and off we went.

It's always a treat to go into a real home when you've been living in an apartment for a while, but Teresita's home was particularly warm and inviting. We learned how to make two types of empanadas, one with a beef filling and one with a corn filling (empanada de humita.) First we made the filling, which is normally made the night before left in the fridge overnight. As everyone naturally wants to eat their creations, we just put the filling in the freezer after we made it. After chopping the vegetables and other goodies - peppers, onions, olives, corn, and hard boiled eggs - Teresita explained how to make the filling. While she did this, we all had a glass of white wine - a Torrontés, I believe. Then, we moved onto the dough. Making dough, though it seems labourious, is actually quite easy and fun and definitely worth the extra time it takes. Once we made the dough, we let it rest for a bit and then divided it into little balls. We then rolled the balls with rolling pins (which were actually fashioned out of broomsticks, and were perfectly suited for the task.) We then generously stuffed the empanadas. As Teresita said, there's nothing worse than a half-empty empanada. Agreed. It was a bit difficult how much filling was needed - too little is a disappointment, and too much makes for a sloppy empanada. We were taught the braided technique for closing the empanada, which is actually more difficult than it seems (or maybe I'm just a bit inept.) There were five students, myself included - a couple from the States who was staying at the bed and breakfast attached to the house, and an English/Portuguese mother and daughter. I think we made close to 40 empanadas, some (everyone else's) being better than others (mine.) Teresita glazed the dough with some sort of egg mixture before cooking them - half in the oven, half in the deep fryer. While we waited for them to cook, we relaxed outside in the beautiful garden and enjoyed another glass (or several...) of wine, this time a Malbec (obvio.) Teresita then served us our creations and we indulged in an empanada feast. Teresita sprinkled some sugar on the deep-fried empanadas, a nice touch which one doesn't often see. I think my favourite were the deep-fried beef empanadas. So that, plus several glasses of wine, along with my chipá tasting earlier, was the cause of my coma. And it was totally worth it.

I definitely recommend taking a cooking class with Teresita. She's a knowledgeable and kind host, and it's a great way to see another, more authentic part of Argentina. There are many tourist traps in Buenos Aires (El Caminito comes to mind), so this is perfect for getting outside the bubble and immersing yourself (if only for a couple hours) in the local culture. Plus, who doesn't love empanadas? The class cost $45 US, and was well worth it, in my opinion.

In other news, I'm moving. Or at least I hope so. I've mentioned several times all the little problems that make my current place of residence "interesting" (which, if you couldn't tell, means "it really pisses me off, but what the hell; this place is cheap and I'm young and broke and can put up with it.") The weather has gotten predictably colder - it's winter, mas o menos - and for the past few weeks now the temperature inside my room has been the same as the temperature outside my room. Yes, after living in Buenos Aires I will never take insulation/central heating/any kind of heating for granted. Because no hay nada. Na-da.

My complaints about the lack of heat begs the question: You've been living there for three months...did it really take you that long to realise there was no heat? Well, no. As soon as I moved in I remember thinking to myself, "hhhmm...it could get a bit chilly in here come June." Turns out daily cat-naps in the late-summer sun make you forget such moments of prescience. I suppose my attitude of "fuck it, I'll deal with it later" was bound to bite me in the ass sooner or later.

And as for the "didn't you survive a Montreal winter sans-heat?" question: Yes; during my second year at McGill my roommates and I never turned on the heat in our apartment. The difference? The heat from the bottom two apartments rose to ours. Oh, and I wasn't outside. Sure, -40 degrees is cold, but at least you're inside an insulated building. Though it's only 40 degrees here, I'm already wearing two pairs of pants, a turtleneck, and two sweatshirts. This isn't a matter of drinking some tea and sucking it up, believe me.

But I was even prepared to buy an electric heater and buckle down for winter. And then, one morning, on her way to work, my Argentine roommate told me that she would be increasing rent quite substantially each month because things had become expensive. This arbitrary hike quickly converted my attitude from one of, "bueno, estoy pensando en mudarme" to "basta, me voy, hay que bancarsela." (Mom: that's "well, I'm thinking about moving" and "that's it, I'm outta here, deal with it.") At this point, I'd rather pay more for rent to be comfortable (crazy, right?) And it's not just about the heat - I have no work space (trying to work on a coffee table really kills your back, trust me) and no decent teaching space, either. So I figure I'll spend more money on rent for the rest of my time here, and save money when I'm living at home (ugh, part of me just died writing that.)

Thus the Great Apartment Search, Buenos Aires edition: Part II, has officially begun. Hopefully I'll find a place before I freeze to death (it's a joke, Mom.) The silver lining to this cloud? Having learned the phrasal verbs, "to sweat one's balls off" and "to freeze one's ass off," my students have attained a more authentic manner of speaking.

a bit of reading...

2009-05-28T05:32:00.000-07:00

I recently read two interesting articles about Buenos Aires - the city, its culture, and history. I thought I would share both of them:

The first one is from the current issue of Smithsonian magazine:

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/Hola-Buenos-Aires.html?c=y&page=1

It talks a bit about the expat scene in Buenos Aires, which has been getting a lot of attention recently. One often hears, "Buenos Aires is the Paris of South America"; most people agree that this is little more than a marketing ploy. One also hears, "Buenos Aires is like Prague in the 1990s", or right after the collapse of the Soviet Union. I'm not sure about this one either - if you mean a vibrant artistic and cultural scene paired with a weaker currency, then fine. But I think that's as far as the comparison goes. But then again, ¿qué sé yo? (Sidenote: this is one of my favourite expressions. It basically means, "What do I know?", but the manner in which Argentines say it - accompanied with the Italian-esque hand gesture - it's usually closer in meaning to "What the hell do I know?" It's very informal, and can be considered rude - so it's not advisable to say it to your boss, professor, or grandmother, for example. Everyone else is fair game. At least I think.)

The comment in the first page about the prevalence of English is a bit misleading - yes, if you hang out exclusively in Palermo, you will hear English quite a bit, and mostly of the American (United States) brand. But once you get out of the Palermo bubble - and you must - you're less likely to hear English. As for the businesses set up by expats - I've been to the Natural Deli twice, and have enjoyed it both times. It's a bit more expensive (at least for my budget) but it's a good place to check out to get some work done and get your fix of vegetables/health food. I haven't been to CBC (California Burrito Company) yet, though I've heard generally good things about it. They've just opened a second branch in Palermo Soho (I believe on Thames, but I'm not sure...) so sooner or later I'll make my way over there. The Argentimes is a great resource - they have a lot of information about upcoming events as well as interesting and pertinent articles about life in Buenos Aires. And finally, I live next door to the Peruvian martini bar, Mosoq. I haven't been there yet - again, a bit out of my budget, and when I do go out to dinner I prefer to go out, and not just right outside my house.

Here's the link to a second article:

http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/778193e4-44d8-11de-82d6-00144feabdc0.html

It's an extract from the book, False Economy: A Surprising Economic History of the World by Alan Beattie. It discusses how the United States and Argentina - which both began the 20th century in a similar position - have developed over the past century, and how different policies have determined their current states. Many people don't realize that in the beginning of the twentieth century, Argentina had just as much appeal as the United States for immigrants from the Old World. Indeed, the similar culture and language of Argentina attracted many Italian and Spanish immigrants (unfortunately, however, the Italian immigrants failed to pass on the recipe for a true Napoletana pizza...¡qué garrón!)

la vida verdadera de una profesora de inglés en Buenos Aires

2009-05-21T17:31:00.000-07:00

Several people have recently asked me about the reality of teaching English in Buenos Aires. Though I have briefly mentioned different aspects of my current job in other posts, I thought I would write something a bit more coherent and organized. And since a chipa/empanada-induced quasi-coma (oh sure, you laugh, but it's real) has confined me to my room, I figure there's no better time than now. (More on my chipa-obsession and empanada cooking course in a future post.)

Before coming to Buenos Aires I had heard several opinions about the prospects for teaching English here. "How easy is it to find work?" and "Can you make enough money to live on?" were the most frequently asked questions, and rightly so. I tried to read up on the subject as much as I could, but in the end I said, "Fuck it, I'll just figure things out when I get there." (an attitude which, for better or worse, has determined the course of my life thus far.)

So this is what I have found out over the course of the past three and a half months. Obviously everyone's experiences will be different, so I would keep that in mind when planning your own adventure.

For my first month here I took an intensive TEFL Certification course at TEFL International. It's a big investment - about $1600 US for a four week course - to be sure, but one that I feel was worthwhile. Do I use the teaching methods I learned there in my lessons? Well, not really. Because all of my current classes are individual lessons, it's difficult to apply certain techniques. But that's not to say that I don't apply what I learned; it's just in a more general approach sort of way, if that makes any sense.

Once I finished the course, I sent out my CV to many - probably around 20 - institutes. My school gave us a list of English teaching institutes in Buenos Aires, and while it was not entirely up to date (some schools had moved or closed) it was enough to get me started. I had interviews with several institutes; all of them were extremely informal and I have never been asked for a copy of my TEFL Certificate.

With time I have been able to create a full-time schedule (mas o menos.) I currently work for two smaller institutes and a small business started by an American. I have the most students with the latter, and so far the experience has been great. I also have one private student. The pay ranges from place to place. Originally I told myself I would not work for less than $30 AR an hour (which is about $8 US. I usually avoid making the conversion, as every time I remember I'm making less than $8/hour I start to question my decision to stay here - cue the existential crisis and before you know it I have been rocking back and forth in the fetal position for a good two hours.) But I soon found that this salary was too much to expect from an institute, and that I would have to settle for less. Right now I am making anywhere between $23-26 AR an hour through institutes, and I charge $30 for private lessons (which is a steal, if I do say so myself.)

In terms of how I spend my time...I have a different schedule each day, and some are busier than others. Evenings seem to be prime-time for lessons, as most business men and women want class after work. I had heard that travel time was one of the biggest disadvantages of teaching - it takes time to travel, time for which you are not paid. I'm pretty fortunate with the situation I have right now in that most of my lessons are in my neighbourhood - Palermo - and several of them are in my home. I have one student in Belgrano, a more residential area to the north, which is about 40 minutes from my home (well, really it's closer, but it takes me a while to walk to the bus stop) and two students in Microcentro, which is a 15 minute subte-ride away. So I can't really complain too much about an absurd amount of travel time. But it's definitely an important consideration to keep in mind.

Classes generally last 1.5 - 2 hours, and when I'm not teaching I'm usually preparing for the next lesson. It's weird because even though I'm only teaching about 4-6 hours per day, the days have been going by so quickly. It's May 21st, and I still don't know how that happened.

As for my students themselves, they are great (mas o menos.) They all have different levels, and it's been an interesting experience trying to adapt to their levels and interests and trying to figure out what type of exercises and activities fit each of their needs. In many cases they enjoy just talking - having a conversation, allowing me to correct them, and then continuing. This not only makes my job easier, but it's also a learning experience for me and a cultural exchange of sorts. For example, I read an article in the NY Times about a car-bullet-proofing trend in Sao Paulo and brought this up with my Brazilian student. This topic immediately got him talking about his position on Brazilian society and government, and I was shocked to find out that he had been held up at gunpoint at several times while driving through his native Sao Paulo; one time he was thrown out of his car and the people made away with his car. For his part, he was shocked to learn that when in the US I can drive with my windows down and feel safe, and not have to check out my rear view mirror every five seconds. I've also heard stories (some of them incomprehensible) about life in the South Korean army from my Korean student. After serving for two years (military service is compulsory for South Korean males), my student was discharged in March and then arrived in Buenos Aires two weeks later, not knowing a word of Spanish and only a handful of words in English. Classes are always interesting with Helen Chicken-Killer Keller (ok, this warrants an explanation. During one lesson I was trying to explain 'nickname.' I gave a couple of examples, and then, satisfied that I had got my point across, continued. Ten minutes later, my student started talking about driving a tank and how it had damaged his hearing: "I can't hear because of tank. My nickname - Helen Keller!" Well, I thought, at least he understands what a nickname is. At a different lesson, we were discussing foods, and he told me how much he loves chicken: "My nickname - chicken killer!" Hence, the ultimate nickname, Helen Chicken-Killer Keller, was born.") and they always put things in perspective for me - sure, I complain about how difficult Spanish can be, and how certain things about Argentine culture irk me. But at least this is somewhat familiar, not entirely overwhelming, and I can still speak my native language often. It's the quite the opposite for Helen Chicken-Killer Keller, and yet he's doing really well. Any situation is whatever you make of it, I suppose.

But I digress. So, is it worth it, this teaching English? Absolutely. True, I'm not really making enough money to live on, and my bank account (which has never recovered from my year in Italy) proves this. But it is possible to make a living teaching English down here - private students and a frugal lifestyle being the best ways to go about this.

But I look at my situation this way: teaching English abroad has been a goal of mine for many years now, and not for financial reasons. You gain more from the experience than your paycheck (or envelope stuffed with cash) shows. Hell, I'm 21 years old and living in Buenos Aires. I came here with the intention of not only teaching English, but learning Spanish and learning about a part of the world I had never been to and did not know much about. And as far as these two more significant goals go, I think I'm doing pretty well.

I've learned a lot about myself over these past three months, and I'm thinking I'm getting closer to answering that question that plagues so many post-college students, and I guess people in general - What the hell am I doing with my life?

Originally I thought I would start in Buenos Aires, get some experience, and then move to a more lucrative ESL market - South Korea being the country that most people mention. But being in Buenos Aires has reinforced something that I think I always knew, but never wanted to admit. I'm not good in big cities, and goddamnit, I like my comforts. So maybe Seoul or Tokyo are not for me, just in terms of size, and maybe the third world is not a good fit. They are locations that are undoubtedly unattractive and deserve to be seen and experienced, but they're not somewhere I would want to live, at least not right now.

So if not teaching, if not Argentina/South America, then Where? This probably is a shock to no one, but it begins with an I, ends with an -TALIA. Italians in Italy always complain about their country and how much they want to leave, but when leave, as so many of them still do, they just bitch about how their new home isn't Italy. Granted, this is a generalisation, and I'm sure it could be said about immigrants from many countries. But I've found it's particularly true with Italians, and now I know why; I'm going through the same withdrawal. To be honest, I would have a hard time trying to articulate what I miss about Italy (which means I'm probably romanticizing my time there, but so be it). Pero mi manca. Un sacco.

I also somewhat naïvely thought that once I started teaching English, I would fall in love with teaching, have an epiphany, realise my purpose in life, etc. We all have those moments, and then almost always the "Really? How I could ever think that/am I really so self-unaware?" moment follows. Or at least that has been my experience. So no, I haven't fallen in love with teaching. Do I enjoy it? Yes, a definite yes, but it's not something I want to do as a real career.

Right now I'm sort of in that "By jove, I think I've got it!" upswing. I think I've had a lot of difficulty figuring out what to do with my life because of my many disparate interests. I also felt that, while I was interested in and liked many things, I was never passionate about any one of them in particular. And as trite as it sounds, I have always thought you should find something you love and you should do it well. I'm at a point now where I feel my interests - history, languages, cultures, peoples, education, and most importantly, real, good food - seem to be converging. Or there's the potential for convergence, and right now I'm trying to work out the details. I'm applying for a Master's degree in Food Culture at the University of Gastronomic Sciences in Italy. Yea, that's right - food fuckin' culture. Ok, I need to wrap up this post, so I'll just recommend two books that I'm reading right now, that can best sum up my current state and the path I would like to pursue: "Slow Food Nation" (by Gigi Padovani) and "Slow Food Nation" (by Carlo Petrini - who currently holds the "Dopest Cat Alive" title in my book.)

So take the plunge. Come to Buenos Aires to teach English. Sure, I didn't find exactly what I was expecting or hoping. But I've found so much more, and it's only May.

life in BsAs

2009-05-09T06:50:00.000-07:00

Wow, has it really been a month since my last post? I blame it on a combination of busy-ness and laziness and I'll try to get back in the swing of things.

The past month has been interesting, wonderful, thought-provoking, frustrating, anxiety-inducing, breath-taking...it's been up and down, and just about everywhere in between. It's life in BsAs, and in my third month here I'm getting used to this range of experiences that have come to define my experience as an English teacher.

As for the wonderful and breath-taking...

...paragliding over the Andes in the outskirts of Mendoza. Ever since I went bungee-jumping last year in Italy I have wanted to try another you-have-got-to-be-crazy extreme sport. Mendoza, a city located in the shadows of the Andes near the Chilean border, provided the perfect opportunity. After spending a day biking through the wine country, visiting several bodegas, and tasting wine and olive oil (also wonderful) my friend and I decided that we wanted to see the mountains; we soon found ourselves in the back of an old truck, barreling up a narrow mountain path. My fear of heights was mitigated by the breath-taking view of the Andes, which I tried to focus on - rather than look over the side of the truck into the abyss.

Once we reached the mountain top, we were quickly thrown into the harnesses and ready to go, or at least our expert guides (with whom we would jump) thought. Needing specific instructions, I began to drill my guide in a mix of broken Spanish and English made incomprehensible by the 'what the fuck am I doing about to run off a mountain?' thoughts running through my head. "When I say run, you run" was the only instruction we received. Ok, fair enough, I can do that...

Though it took us about ten minutes to get the perfect gust of wind, eventually we were off. I immediately understood why more specific instructions were not necessary - you pretty just run until you hit the edge of the mountain, and then you are swept off your feet - literally. Then it's just a matter of sitting back, relaxing (as much as that is possible) and trying to take it all in. The ride itself probably lasted about 15 minutes, my favourite part being the end, when we did some "acrobatics" in order to lose altitude. Being a novice and huge clutz, and I fell forward on my knees on the landing. But lack of grace aside, it was truly amazing. Indescribable. If ever you have the opportunity to go paragliding, ignore the rational voice in your head and run off the side of a mountain. You're not likely to regret it.

As for the interesting...

I almost have a full-time teaching schedule - ideally I would like to teach between 20-25 hours per week, and right now I'm at 18 or so. In addition to the two institutes I have been working for since April, I have started working for a new, small tutoring company started by an American. My boss, Lindsay, understands the frustrations and limitations of working for a big company - namely the travel time needed to get to classes, low wages, and lack of connection between students and teachers - and has started her own company based on her own philosophy of teaching, one which I agree with. So far I have three students through her and hope to start with more in the near future. Most of the students come to my home for lessons, which is brilliant - though I have conquered the collectivo (bus) system, the lack of monedas sometimes makes a bus trip impossible. As for my students themselves, I'll have to save that for another post.

As for the frustrating...

I don't want to dwell on the negatives too much; I'll preface this by saying that after living abroad for several months you begin to notice the many little things that bother you, the cultural differences that just don't seem to make any sense, and a certain nostalgia always seems to lurk in the back of your mind. For me, it's a nostalgia for things that never were; or rather, I, like so many others, forget all the things that frustrated me, that were suffocating, about life in the 'burbs. Really, when I stop and think about it, I'd take Argentine idiosyncrasies over the humdrum routine of Phoenix, MD any day. Yes, I'm not as comfortable as I was back home, but what was so great about that comfort anyway?

But enough with the ambiguity, the generalisations.

The most frustrating thing in the past weeks has been my house. Remember how I said that considering the low rent, there were bound to be many little surprises along the way? Well, occasionally not having running water has been one of those surprises. Ok, so it's only happened twice, but in both instances we were without water for an entire day. It's never to good to start your day seeing several workers in your kitchen, dirty water everywhere, and when you ask, "¿Hay un problema?" they respond, "Claro...no tenés agua." My response, "Motherfucker!" I'm pretty sure they understood that. My other big concern is the lack of heat in my room. I could not ask for better weather right now, but as it's fall, the nights are starting to get chilly, and I've already woken up several nights shivering. Ok, so I exaggerate. But a space heater is needed...and soon.

As for the thought-provoking, anxiety-inducing...

...I've been thinking about my future. I've realised that sooner or later, I will have to move back home and find a job (easier said than done) to save up money for my next big step (which, without going into too many details, involves getting back to Italy and studying gastronomy...) So I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for this while at the same time thinking in the present and enjoying my time in Buenos Aires. Because, despite the downs, life in Buenos Aires is good.

aprovechando el tiempo

2009-04-11T05:41:00.000-07:00

The weather the past few days has been beautiful - after a heat wave early this past week (as a result of which I have sworn off taking the subte - I'm still a bit traumatized after a some-stranger's-sweat-dripping-on-my-arm incident), it's been consistently in the mid 70s, sunny, and clear blue skies. Not wanting to stay inside, I went on a photo-taking stroll through Palermo yesterday. Here are some highlights...

These three were taken at El Rosedal, a rose garden, which is inside El Parque 3 de Febrero in Palermo. Thousands upon thousands of roses...I took a lot of pictures, but you get the idea. One of my favourite parts, though, is the security: if you so much as look the perfectly manicured lawn, a man with a whistle and shirt that says "Guardian" will yell at you.

A couple friends and I spent the afternoon here...not a bad day.

Most of the streets in Palermo are lined with these kinds of trees...whose name I should probably look up.

Che: el musical argentino. It worked with Evita, so why not Che?

There's a lot of cool graffiti and artwork all across the city - these are just some that got my attention.

teaching, de nuevo

2009-04-04T07:30:00.000-07:00

It's been one week since I started teaching. Right now I have two classes, although since there is only one student in each class, they're more like private lessons. One of my students is Brazilian and he's preparing to take the TOEFL iBT (a test which determines one's English proficiency) in order to apply for a Master's degree program abroad. I was a bit nervous going into my first lesson, as I had no idea what to expect and wondered how I would manage to create enough material for a two hour lesson. But once we got started I got a sense of what he needed to work on, and went from there; before I knew it the two hours were up and I had plenty of ideas for activities for the next lesson. He's a good student, probably at a low intermediate level, and his dedication makes the lessons more enjoyable. Also, since he is preparing for a standardized test I have been giving him tips on how to write more effectively, recognise what the reading comprehension questions are asking for, etc - I feel as though I'm preparing for the SAT again, and being a bit of a nerd, I kind of like it.

I started my other class yesterday, but already I can tell it will be a bit more tedious. I have to travel to Belgrano, which is an outer, more residential barrio that's about 20 minutes away by bus (if you get off at the right stop, that is.) The student is 23 years old and has just moved to Buenos Aires from South Korea, so his Spanish is non-existent and his English is limited to the most basic expressions. With no common language between us, the lesson got off to a rough start: he spoke to himself in Korean and laughed quite a bit; I'm hoping he found our initial inabilities to communicate comical, and not my feeble attempts to explain "My name is Julia. No, your name isn't Julia; my name is Julia." I'll be teaching him three times a week, and now that I'm more familiar with his level I'll be able to adapt my lessons accordingly.

Along with these two classes I hope to start a third private lesson sometime this week. My Spanish tutor's brother-in-law was looking for an English teacher, so we met up several days ago for an "interview" - I explained how I would run lessons, gave him a placement test, and we had a brief conversation. Being a doctor, his schedule is a bit difficult to work with, but obviously I'm going to do my best to accommodate it - especially since I can name my own price.

So busy, busy, busy again. Well, sort of. Yesterday, for example, I taught from 10-11.30, then I had my Spanish lesson from 1-3, and then I taught again from 7-9. Not a crazy schedule by any means, but figuring in transportation time with actual lesson time, my day went by pretty quickly. And now that I have responsibilities again, I spend less time dicking around and more time planning lessons, etc. It's a good thing.

I find it a bit odd to go from teacher to student back to teacher again, all within the course of one day. It's definitely keeping me grounded, in the sense that I am continually reminded of the difficulties of learning a foreign language and can thus empathize with my students. One is less likely to become frustrated and consequently ineffective as a teacher when they remember their own personal struggles as a student. Yesterday, for instance, I had quite the mental block and said, "Cuando regreso a casa tengo que hacer...¿como se dice 'nap'?" My teacher looked at me, smiled, and said "siesta." Oh...yea...I knew that.

Also, since my Spanish tutor has a lot of experience and, in my opinion, is very good at his job, I find myself conducting my lessons in a similar style, and adapting some of the activities that I have done for my students. Moreover, at first I almost felt guilty or stupid when I couldn't effectively answer a student's question. I had to look up an explanation in my reference book, and after a little research the matter was cleared up. Obviously teachers aren't expected to know everything, particularly all the complexities of grammar. But I still couldn't help but feel a bit inadequate, and hated the silence between us as I scrambled to find an accurate explanation. But then I remembered that my Spanish tutor has done this several times, that it's quite natural, and did not make me doubt my Spanish tutor's abilities in any way. Rather, I would have questioned his methods had he not double-checked the reference book. So while a bit disorienting at first, the whole simultaneously-student-and-teacher bit has been working out for me.

finally, a job

2009-03-26T16:40:00.001-07:00

I got a job today!

Ok, so right now it will only be about six hours a week, until my other class (or rather, one-on-one lesson) starts in a week or two. And it's on Thursday nights and Saturday and Sunday afternoons - not the best schedule. But it is a job. And I won't have to go all the way downtown to teach - the business is about ten minutes from my home. I start this Saturday, and am meeting with the current teacher tomorrow to discuss the student's level and what he's been studying.

Starting Saturday, I really am a teacher. Odd.

Oh, and Happy Birthday Mom!!

Photos of Cementerio de la Recoleta

2009-03-25T17:24:00.000-07:00

Evita's tomb

A body-snatcher's paradise...?

Buenos Aires sin trabajo

2009-03-25T15:46:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since my last real blog post, partly because I've been lazy and partly because I haven't been up to anything terribly exciting or blog-worthy.

I've been job hunting since my TEFL course ended nearly three weeks ago. I was under the impression that English teaching jobs would be relatively easy to find, as long as you accept the reality of a 25-30 peso/hour salary (with an exchange rate of $1 US = $3.6 AR, this comes out to about $7 US/hour). I wrote my CV and sent it out to about 20 English teaching institutes, and so far I have only heard back from a handful of them. Last week I went door-to-door to about seven institutes and tried to explain, sometimes in English but more often than not in Spanish, that I was an English teacher looking for work, and that I would be interested in any vacancies they were currently trying to fill. I've had two interviews, and though they both ended somewhat ambiguously, I'm trying to remain optimistic. Both were very relaxed and lasted about ten minutes; at the end I was told that I would be contacted once the director had assessed the needs of the institute and created a schedule. Tomorrow I have another two interviews, one of which would start immediately. Hopefully it will go well, because I need a job. Badly.

I'm not sure why I've been having difficulty finding work. And it's not just me; my friends from the TEFL class all seem to be in the same position: they've had some promising interviews, and now are just waiting to hear back about starting dates. I think the most likely problem is the economic downturn: most of these institutes hire teachers to teach at different businesses, many of whom have been forced to review and scale back their budget. Not surprisingly, English lessons are often considered expendable. I'm going to start looking for private students in the next couple days, which can be a much more lucrative venture.

I'm almost embarassed to say that my life has been somewhat boring as of late. Embarassed because it's still summer (or at least it still feels like it) and I'm in Buenos Aires, and I'm sure many people back home would gladly be where I am now. Don't get me wrong, I've still been exploring the city and going out at night. But it's all been at my own, slow pace; when I have no where I have to be it often takes me a while to get anywhere. Now that I'm in Palermo, it takes me a while to get to Microcentro or San Telmo, or other areas with more attractions, such as museums, places of historical significance, etc. Palermo has only been recently developed; up until a decade or so ago it was residential district. Now, upscale boutiques and restaurants dominate the streets, and while these are all well and good, as an unemployed teacher I have to find other ways to spend my time. And I do exaggerate when I say it takes me a while to get anywhere downtown: it takes about ten minutes to get the Subte (metro), and then about a ten minute ride to get downtown. But ten minutes in the oppressive heat and cattle-like crowded cars seems an eternity. Yes, I hate the Subte. With a passion. But I've still not mastered the collectivos (buses), so I find myself on the Subte more frequently than I care for.

But when I do get out and about, I have been enjoying myself. Yesterday I went back to the Cementerio de la Recoleta, a huge cemetery in which many of Buenos Aires' patrician residents and several famous historical figures are buried (including Eva Perón, of Don't Cry for Me, Argentina! fame). I had walked through briefly during my first week here, but wanted to go back to really explore and take pictures. The place is huge: one is easily lost in its labyrinthine paths, although I for one was not complaining. It sort of reminded me of the cemetery in Paris where Jim Morrison is buried (the name escapes me now). It had the same grandeur and inspired the same awe and contemplative mood. It was a beautiful day yesterday and it was not too crowded; I often walked up and down several lanes without seeing another person. It made for a perfect afternoon. I took some pictures of which I'll post just a few - for anyone with any interest in photography I highly recommend spending several hours there. Or really I would recommend everyone in Buenos Aires check it out; it's definitely been one of my favourite parts of the city.

Yesterday was a national holiday in Argentina: el Día de la Memoria, or Day of Memory, which marks the anniversary of the military coup of March 24, 1976, which established dictatorial rule and resulted in tens of thousands of disappeared persons. I'm currently reading a novel, Imagining Argentina, which combines the devastating history of the era with magical realism to make for an interesting and unique read. I'm also trying to finish Félix Luna's A Short History of the Argentinians. When reading about the Dirty War, it's almost difficult for me to imagine that it began only 33 years ago. One normally associates atrocities of this nature with the Second World War; it's something your grandparents could remember, but not your parents. As it's an issue still shaping Argentine society, I hope to learn more about the Guerra Sucia during my time here.

On an entirely different note, I bought tickets today for a football match (soccer game) this Saturday. Argentina, with Diego Maradona as the head coach, is playing Venezuela in a World Cup qualifying match. Though I expect the Argentina fans to be united (there's a bitter rivalry between two teams - River and Boca Juniors - in Buenos Aires) it should be pretty intense and amazing.

algunas fotos de mi casa

2009-03-14T14:53:00.000-07:00

Since I finally took some pictures of my place, I thought I would post them. Also, I have nothing to do before going out tonight, so this should help to pass the time.

My bed: modest, but comfortable.

Wall facing my bed. Yes, that's more a coffee table which functions as a desk. Not the most comfortable position for working on my laptop, but I can manage.

My street - El Salvador - as seen from right outside my building.

Terrace

More terrace - and the reason I can put up with all the minor inconveniences.

...and then my house flooded.

2009-03-11T16:54:00.000-07:00

I had started a new post entitled, "¡troppe lingue!" in which I planned to detail my pathetic foray into the world of polyglots. And then my house flooded, an infinitely more interesting, harrowing, and in the end comical anecdote. So I'll start from there and see where this ends up.

As mentioned previously, (I'm sure this would be an opportune time to create a hyperlink with the exact reference, but I'm old-fashioned/lazy/technologically inept. So you're just going to have to trust me on this one; I already wrote about it.) my new home is full of little "surprises", as I like to call them so as to not get completely frustrated and move out. A minor ant problem is among the newest. But the main problem, or so I had thought, was that the hallway outside my bedroom floods when it rains heavily. And though it hasn't been raining too often, when it rains in Buenos Aires, it fucking rains. I've also been prone to exaggerate, so when I said "flood" I really meant puddle, the kind you can keep up with the squeegee broom in two minutes.

I had just settled down to write when the torrential downpour began...again. I ignored it as much as I could when Salvador, the dog, came into my room, dripping water everywhere. I thought he had been caught outside in the rain when I heard Vicky, my British roommate, shout, "Julia?!? Are you home? The house is flooded!" So I grabbed the squeegee broom and thought, no problem, I am an expert, after all.

Oh, the naïveté. Five inches of water flooded the patio and flowed into the kitchen, living room, and two bedrooms. Manned with one squeeguee broom and one regular (and thus completely ineffective) broom, we attempted to sweep the water down the stairs and into the street. The incessant rain made any progress nearly impossible. We quickly realised the problem was the clogged drain in the patio, but there was nothing to be done about it, so we just kept sweeping. After half an hour of this the rain finally slowed down, and the drain miraculously unclogged, making our task a bit easier. Eventually the two of us managed to get most of the water out of the rooms and down the stairs, but most of the floor is still slick. Being upstairs, my room was not flooded at all, and luckily nothing really was damaged in the rest of the house. Hopefully we'll have someone come to check out the drain soon - had no one been home we would have really been screwed.

Estefania has again assured me that this is only the second time this has happened, and that she's looking into getting it fixed. I'm not sure if I believe that this really is a new development, but considering that her room was flooded the most, she has a greater interest in making sure it doesn't happen again.

In other news, I am now officially a certified TESOL teacher. Or rather, individual. I finished my course last week and picked up my certificate yesterday; now comes the hard part. I have already sent my CV to many language institutes throughout the city. Unfortunately so have hundreds of other prospective English teachers. And I thought finding an apartment was difficult.

In another one of my previous posts I mentioned Argentines' obsession with asado. For those of you back home, here are a couple pictures of what I'm talking about:

Before shot - While at Mar del Plata, our group went to a friend's place for asado.

Almost ready...

This was part of our graduation dinner at a Parilla in Palermo. It was served after we had gorged on the salad bar, fried cheese/bacon concoction, and empanadas. Needless to say, there were plenty of leftovers.

Requisite chimichurri sauce.

the end of the beginning

2009-03-04T17:07:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is the last day of my TEFL certification course...finally. While I haven't been happy with every aspect of the course, I have learned a lot and do feel prepared to start teaching...once I type up my CV, send it out to language institutes, get interviews, get hired, and all that good stuff. I hope to start this process early next week, which fortuitously coincides with the beginning of the school year in Argentina.

During the past three weeks I have taught five classes, with mixed results. The first two classes went pretty well, I thought, and I walked home with a bounce in my step, confident that teaching would be a fulfilling and fun, albeit temporary, occupation. Last week, however, did not go as well as the previous week. While my lessons were by no means ineffective or painful, they were certainly tedious, and I felt that more often than not I was not getting through to my students. I think the lower teaching levels had something to do with it - I struggled to keep my dialogues and activities as basic as possible (simple sentences almost always make me cringe) and often threw in several words that were too advanced, and consequently created more trouble than they were worth. Several times I just wanted to say, "Don't worry that you don't know what it means - it's not important! For the love of God, can we just move on?!" My main problem was "teacher talk time", which basically means that I didn't know when to just shut up. I would often just rephrase my question, rather than allow a moment of silence for the students to stop and think. The silence flustered me a bit, and so I always tried to end it by any means possible. My trainers were very constructive in their criticism, and all in all my mistakes were like those of any beginner and could be remedied with effort and experience. I knew this, and so was not entirely discouraged. But there definitely were those moments when I questioned my choice and thought that maybe I was never meant to be a teacher. An exaggeration, to be sure, but in the back of my mind nonetheless.

So it was with a significant amount of self-doubt that I prepared for my lessons this week. (Yes, Dad, I know I'm too hard on myself.) I didn't prepare as much as I should have this weekend, and was kicking myself in the ass on Tuesday morning as I was struggling to write the activities I intended to use. But sometimes things can come together just as quickly and inexplicably as they can fall apart, and such was the case for my lesson. I dramatically reduced my teacher talk time - it turns out that when you give students the chance to think, they usually come up with the right answer - and my explanations of the grammar point were succinct and effective. Moreover, there was a discernible flow and direction in the lesson which made my job much easier. I walked home with the same first-week-bounce in my step, realising that, as my trainers had suggested, several small changes in my preparation and execution could make all the difference.

As for my new apartment...the first few days have been interesting. Well, maybe just the first day. I knew before I moved in that there would inevitably be some problems with the place - lights that don't work, the occasional leak, etc. It is an older place, after all, and I'm only paying $950 Argentine pesos (about $270) for monthly rent for a decently sized place in one of the nicest and most expensive neighbourhoods in the city. So I figured there had to be a catch, but I hoped that it would be just be several little surprises that I would adapt to easily.

So far this has been the case, though initially I feared the worst. My room and bathroom are upstairs, but the steps and hallway leading to them are somewhat outside (if you continue two steps down the hallway from my room you reach the terrace.) Which means that when it rains, as it has been the past several days, the hallway floods. Not terribly so, but enough for you to need to mop the water out to the terrace. Ok, I can deal with that. There's also not really a handle or button to flush my toilet - you have to pull up the lever (?) in the tank. Again, once you figure out the technique, not a big deal. And I only get warm-hot water in the sink in my bathroom, though I've been told this will soon be fixed (we'll see.) So I've been adapting since Sunday, and I still think the terrace itself is worth the little hassles. (I'll try to post some pictures once the weather clears up.)

And though I've only been here three days, I feel like it's already my home, if only because I've already comically wiped out in front of my new roommates. It seems that every time I move into a new place with new people, I inevitably break the ice by falling flat on my ass. This time I blame it on the wet floor and my dippy flip-flops, but really I'm just an incurable clutz. And I've got the scars to prove it.

I think I'll get along well with my new roommates. I've been very busy these past couple of days and so haven't had much time to sit down and talk to them. Estefania is a 28 year old graphic designer from Buenos Aires, and Vicky is a 29 year journalist from London. She's currently working on a travel guide for Argentina and Uruguay. And then there's Salvador, la mascota de la casa, a cute pup.

I'm very excited for the "graduation" festivities that are to ensue tomorrow evening and will continue Friday evening when my entire class goes out to dinner (which will consist of beef and red wine, of course.) We're planning a weekend trip to Mar del Plata, a city on the beach about five hours south of Buenos Aires. We all deserve a small vacation after working hard for the past month. I really like the people in my class - there are about 20 of us - and while we have seen each other almost all day, every day, for the past month, this weekend should be a lot of fun. Unfortunately very few of them are staying in Buenos Aires once the course ends; most are looking to teach somewhere else, some are going back home. But that seems to be the case for TEFL teachers and expats in general: people always coming and going, meeting new people and creating friendships, but knowing that they'll be gone before long.

Of course, once you expand your circle of friends outside of the expat bubble, this is less of a problem. On that note...I met with my Spanish tutor, Marco, yesterday, for the first time. It was an "interview" rather than a lesson, in that he wanted to assess my level and explain how lessons would work. I should start with a full lesson on Friday, and I can't wait. For me, starting a new language is always an exhilarating experience - what was entirely foreign to you mere hours before is suddenly recognizable. There's a sense of possession that comes with the acquisition of new vocabulary, and I always start lessons with a certain amount of greed. For me, the frustration comes later. And it inevitably comes, often sooner than I would expect, so I like to revel in those first few glorious weeks when you mark your progress in great strides rather than small steps. I've never taken private lessons before, and I'm excited to progress at my own speed (however quickly or slowly that may be) rather than according to the needs of my peers.

That's all for now. Need to get a good night's sleep before the festivities begin.

move in day.

2009-03-01T04:04:00.000-08:00

The Floralis Genérica, a metal flower sculpture which "blooms" in the morning and closes up at sunset. It's in the Recoleta barrio, about ten minutes away from school.

A boat I liked sailing down the delta in Tigre.

My lunch in Tigre - a choripan (sandwich with chorizo sausage), complete with Argenine flag.
Cool colors on a street in Tigre.

The past several days have been quite busy, but I'm going to try to post a few pictures before I move today. Yes, in the end I did get the room in the cool house in Palermo; as soon as I finish packing up my stuff today I will move out of Beatriz and Delfina's apartment and settle in for good (hopefully) on Calle El Salvador.

Yesterday I went to Tigre, a town located about 30 km outside of Buenos Aires, with six friends from my TEFL course. Located on the river delta, it's a great place to spend a lazy Saturday: we mostly walked around, checked out the outdoor market, took a one hour boat ride, and then relaxed/took naps in a shady spot in the park. After being in the city for one month (already?!), it was wonderful to get out and explore, even if the water was unswimmable (at least for my tastes.) The best part about the trip was the price: a round trip train ticket cost 2.70 pesos, just under $1. I'm sure at that price I'll be back. Plus, there's an amusement park! It was a bit small, at least compared to what I'm used to, but there were two roller coasters that looked like good fun.

I taught two lessons this past week, and neither of them went as well I had hoped. I'm still learning, so I'm not too discouraged. My main problem was "teacher talk", or feeling the need to end silence by...talking. It wasn't quite rambling, just excessive instructions and clarifications, which did more harm than good in some cases. Both times I taught students at a lower level, and I struggled to keep my dialogues and activities as basic as possible. I have two more lessons before the class ends this Friday, so for most of today I'll be working on my lesson plans.

Finally, this past Thursday I went to Spanglish, which is essentially speed dating for language learners. For 15 pesos, you get a drink at a bar and about an hour and half of conversation. Anglos are paired up with Spanish speakers (hispanoablante) for about ten minutes, five of which you speak in English, the other five in Spanish. You then switch partners. It was a great atmosphere and everyone I spoke with was very friendly. The Argentines I spoke with generally spoke English very well, whereas I struggled with Spanish. But it's definitely something I plan to go to when I have the time.

third week thoughts

2009-02-22T12:45:00.000-08:00

Today marks my third week in Buenos Aires, which is hard to believe. I feel like I don't have much to show for my time here, mostly because I haven't seen many of the tourist sites, or many of the barrios, for that matter, and have taken few pictures. But I'm getting there, and once my TEFL course ends I will make time for it all, including the expansion of my old people photo collection. Because seriously, every day I pass at least twenty nonagenarian porteños who trek through the city at about three times my pace, decked out in their finest attire. It's awesome.

For those looking for some structure or point to this post, I would suggest you stop reading. Really I'm just obsessively checking my e-mail every five minutes, waiting for a response that will probably not come for several days. To pass the time, as well as to procrastinate on my writing my lesson plan, I'm here, writing whatever comes to mind.

As mentioned earlier, I've started my apartment search. Well, I may have found one. I'm loath to go into any detail about the place, lest I jinx myself, so I'll just say that the apartment (well, it's more like a house) is located in a good area (Palermo Soho), with cool roommates (judging from one brief meeting), and, more importantly, within my price range. I would have my own private bathroom and (the best part!) a huge terrace right outside my room. The woman living there is in her late 20's and is a graphic designer; there's also a girl from London. I've already told her that I would take the room if it's fine by her, so now I'm just waiting for her to respond. As much as I have loved living with Delfina and Beatriz, I'm a bit anxious to move into a more permanent place, so that I can actually unpack and feel as though this is my life here, rather than a long vacation.

I taught my second lesson on Thursday, and this time it was a high intermediate class with about eight students. This is the highest level that we teach, and it was an entirely different experience from my first class, in which I taught low beginners. This time around, I had to do relatively little in terms of explaining a specific grammar point - while the students could not speak fluently, they could express themselves very well and enjoyed doing so. In fact, at several points during the lesson I had a hard time getting a word in. The theme of my lesson was "the workplace," so we discussed adjectives that could describe one's boss and co-workers ("manipulative" was one of the first words the students yelled out) as well as the atmosphere. Overall, I was happy with how the lesson progressed, and my trainer had some constructive criticism which I can work from for my next lesson. My initial fear was that I would stand up in front of the class and become a bumbling idiot, as I always seem to get nervous when I speak in front of people, no matter how small the group. But so far this has not been a problem - my trainer even said that I seemed calm, confident, and had an excellent teaching presence. One student even came up to me after class and asked for my e-mail in case she wanted private lessons! Granted, I think she asked this of everyone, but it still made me feel great. So with my nerves behind me, it's time to set my expectations higher, and try to incorporate the different techniques we have been learning into my lessons. I'll have two lessons a week for the next two weeks, which is a fair amount of practice before I'm thrown into a real classroom.

Random observation: Buenos Aires invariably smells of dog shit/garbage, both of which are ubiquitous, (though not in a Neapolitan way) or asado, which, to put it briefly, is Argentine barbecue. The former obviously makes me want to gag, the latter makes me hungry. The odd thing about the asado aroma is that it wafts into my window at any time of the day. On 7.30 pm on a Sunday, or 10 am on a weekday, and even as late as 1 am. Argentines are just plain crazy about asado. And if you could smell what I'm smelling right now, you would probably understand why. I'm still adjusting to the Argentine eating schedule: they tend to eat dinner around 10 pm, but more often than not later. I have no problem doing this if I'm eating out, but for those nights in when I have no plans, I still like to eat around 8. Beatriz has asked me several times if I eat dinner at all, as she often comes home after I have eaten. Argentine kids are also on a different schedule, staying up late to eat with their parents. As I was getting ready to go out this past Saturday, I could hardly hear my music over the screams of the kids next door. This was at 11.30 at night. By the time I left around midnight, they were still going strong. As I passed by their apartment, I saw a sign with "Feliz Cumpleaño" written in a six year old's scrawl. When I turned six, I'm pretty sure I passed out at about 5 pm. Eating cake and opening presents is awesome at any age, but it tends to wipe most kids out. Or at least I thought. Maybe Argentines start their kids on mate (a green tea-esque drink which all Argentines, regardless of social status, drink at all times of the day) at an early age, or maybe it's just longer naps, but something has got to be keeping these kids going. And I would love to know what it is so I can get in on it.

Well, I suppose I have procrastinated long enough. I never know how to end these things...years of schooling makes me feel as though I must have some sort of conclusion. But screw that.

And...scene.

I have already taught my first lesson.

2009-02-17T15:12:00.000-08:00

This will be brief, but since I just taught my first lesson (!!) I feel the need to write a bit about it.

Wow, I just taught my first class! Well, I taught with a partner, but for someone who has never really stood in front of a class and taught for an extended period of time, pretty cool. Fuckin' A.

Last week I was not too happy with the TEFL course I'm taking. I felt like we hadn't done much of anything the first week, and I couldn't seem to see how what we were learning would fit into the bigger picture. Plus, the building where our school is normally located was still being renovated, so our lessons were temporarily held in the building of a Spanish school. Twenty students were crammed into a small, incredibly hot and stuffy room on the fifth floor of an old building. Not the best learning conditions, to say the least. Especially not considering how much we have all paid for this course.

But this week we have moved onto our normal premises, and while they are still fixing the place up, it is a much nicer setting - a beautiful terrace, comfortable lounge, and larger, relatively well-ventilated classrooms. It was a huge improvement and unexpected surprise which did wonders for my attitude.

For our first lesson, we all got to teach with a partner. Each lesson is fifty minutes long, and we were assigned a theme and grammar structure to teach to students of different levels. My partner and I had to teach the present perfect tense with "already" and "yet" while teaching "visiting a new place." Because it was for a low beginner level class, our vocabulary and activities were very basic. Even more basic than we had originally planned, as most of the students were new and had not yet learned the present perfect tense. Most of our lesson centered around modeling a dialogue, having the students repeat our model, and then trying to form their own sentences. It was a bit tedious, to be sure - I must have said, "I have already been to the beach" about thirty times - but on the whole an enjoyable experience. There were only five students, and all save one were older women (yes!) What's more, they all knew that their English was not very good, but they all tried their best the entire time, even when our explanations or directions were not as clear as they ought to have been.

More importantly, I felt much more comfortable than I normally do in front of a class. Granted, it was a very relaxed setting with a small audience, but I'm still pretty happy with myself. I didn't botch too many lines, and though we skipped over one activity, in the end it did not make a difference. We did finish our planned lesson earlier than expected, but did a pretty good job of improvising another activity - asking the students, "what have you already done today? What have you not done yet?" My favourite response was from Roberto, the only guy, who said "I have already had a beer at the bar." My initial response was, "Really? That's awesome!" Then I realised he meant he hadn't yet had a beer. But at least his mistake was comical, and they understood the humour.

But the best part was the energy of the students themselves. Despite the fact that this was their second hour of difficult English grammar taught by novices, they remained alert and enthusiastic, even when they knew they weren't speaking properly. At the end of the lesson, one of my students, Victoria, took my hand and said "I like the way you speak." (Or at least I think that's what she meant...) and repeatedly thanked me. The fact that at least one student was grateful felt so...great. It made me think that I could actually do this, and enjoy it, and make it all work. Teaching is one of the most difficult jobs I can think of, one of the most tedious and exhausting, and unfortunately one whose pay is in no way proportionate to its importance. But it's the genuine appreciation of the students that make all the difference. Yes, I'm young and naive and have one fifty minute lesson under my belt, but I feel like I'm off to a great start.

I have my first individual lesson tomorrow. It's with a high intermediate class, so the students are fairly autonomous in their abilities and really just look for their teacher to guide and occasionally correct their conversation. I'm teaching passive gerunds in the context of discussing workplace environments. I'm far behind in my lesson planning, so I should probably bring this to a close.

But before I do that...In other news, the Great Apartment Search, Buenos Aires Edition, has officially begun. I've already seen four rooms, and so far, no luck. Since I'll be staying with my host family until March 1st, I'm not too concerned, at least not yet. Right now I'm looking to stay in the Palermo neighbourhood, but considering my budget that may change in the next couple weeks. With class every day from 10 am to 7 or 8 pm, it leaves little time to trek across the city for visits. But it will all work out, I'm sure. It always seems to.

And I've also decided to hire a Spanish tutor. As much as I would rather save the money, I'm having major difficulties communicating with Argentines. I hate not being able to express myself, always sticking out as a foreigner, (and consequently ripped off, or there's frequently the attempt) and having my social circle reduced to expats and English speakers. I thought I would be able to pick up the language more easily, and perhaps I could if I exerted myself more. But only being Anglos for most of Monday through Friday has made this goal more difficult. So I think I'll take a couple of lessons, see how I'm improving, and then go from there.

But for now, back to the books...

rain and romance

2009-02-10T12:45:00.000-08:00

To be more clear: rain, yes. A big Yes. Romance, not so much, but I did lose my heart to an Argentine man for about ten minutes.

It began to rain heavily early this afternoon, and it had not stopped by the time my TEFL class (more on that later) let out around five o'clock. The school is conveniently located about 15 minutes by foot from my apartment; convenient, that is, sans torrential downpour. Not wanting to wait around for the rain to stop, I decided to suck it up and walk home. After all, it was a warm summer rain which, considering the oppressive heat of the past couple days, would be a nice relief. (side note: I can't complain at all about the rain; Argentina is suffering from the worst drought in decades, one with potentially devastating consequences for its agricultural sector, and thus its already struggling economy.)

At first the rain did feel refreshing. Had I been wearing more comfortable shoes, I probably would have skipped my way home, and who knows, maybe even belted out a couple lines of "Singing in the Rain" just to be cool. But after no more than five minutes my dress was completely drenched and weighing me down, and my traction-less-when-dry flats were threatening to be my downfall. So I decided to take my time, as I would be rather be extremely wet than just really wet, bruised, and embarassed.

Within five blocks of my apartment, an old Argentine man with an umbrella came to my rescue. Most people who know me know of my odd obsession with old people, my extensive old people photo collection, and my not-so-secret desire to be an old Sicilian woman. But I'll save that for another day. So when this old Argentine man offered to share his umbrella with me, my heart skipped a beat.

He made some comment about the rain - it was difficult to hear above the cacophony of the city and storm - so I merely replied, Sí, parece un río" (Yes, it seems like a river), referring to the flooded streets. After he made another incomprehensible comment, I answered, as I too often do, "lo siento, pero no entiendo" (I'm sorry, I don't understand.) Upon telling him I was from the US, he began, in broken English, "Ah, yes, I live in New York long time ago. I'm a sailor." Really? Pray tell! He said that he liked New York, but that Argentina was his country, and that he belonged here. He had only returned to Buenos Aires after spending many other years abroad - in Germany right after the "last war" - World War II - and then in Italy. My eyes aglow, I exclaimed, "Italia?! Ma dove?" (Where?) Genova, he replied. I then told him how I had spent a year in Bologna, and he agreed that it was a nice city. "But the best," he continued, "is Sicilia."

He had me at Sicilia. In an unintelligible mix of Italian and Spanish I tried to explain to him that I, too, loved southern Italy and especially Sicilia - the people, the atmosphere, the food (oh, the food!), I could go on and on. Unfortunately by this time we were nearing my apartment. Wanting to stand under a roof, but not wanting our conversation (however little we understood of one another) to end, I began to thank him, explaining that Argentines were so kind and helpful. "Yes, but be careful, they are not all like that." As we reached my door, I thanked him several more times, and with a "suerte" (good luck) he was gone.

That's what I love about old people - in an instant they will tell you their life story, and while this can lead to interminable ramblings or confusion, in my experience these stories, however brief or mundane, have been fascinating and filled with the pearls of wisdom that one acquires over decades of travel, love, loss - life, in a word. And even if these stories really have no point, the joy you can give just by listening is enough to warm you up, even in the pouring rain.

His comment that not all Argentines are kind reminded me of Italians - many of the people you meet in the paesini, and even in cities, are so generous and warm, yet the country's government is rife with corruption and run by dishonest thieves (though I don't want to oversimplify a complex issue). From what my host mother, Beatriz, has been explaining to me, similar problems plague the Argentine government. When you see the best of humanity, or at least its good side, it's a pity to think that lesser beings are often the ones running the show.

There were some other items I wanted to address, but for now a list will have to suffice...

1. I went to the Feria in Plaza Dorrego in San Telmo this Sunday. It's mostly an antiques fair, although artists, vendors selling handicrafts, and street performers also crowd the streets. Plenty of interesting old people; I will be back.

2. I am currently not happy with the food situation in Buenos Aires; the selection of fruits and vegetables leaves much to be desired. Granted, I haven't been here long enough to explore the markets and find the best local verdulería, so I haven't given up hope...yet.

3. My TEFL certification course started yesterday. The first two days have been pretty basic. Today we individually "taught" our peers with a simple 'core dialogue' exercise. It was not difficult, but there was a certain procedure to be followed. While I thought I had this procedure down beforehand, when I got up in front of everyone I botched up most of the steps. Not the best start, but I know that with practice and confidence I'll improve.

4. My blog is quite the eyesore, I know. I hope to take some pictures this weekend to remedy this.

musings of a lazy saturday

2009-02-07T15:10:00.001-08:00

It's been quite a lazy day - I slept in after a late night out (late, by my standards, being 5 am), ventured out to buy a cell phone only to find the store closed, and walked around Recoleta. I came back to the apartment earlier than expected due to an upset stomach, and have been relaxing ever since. While I hate to be inside on such a beautiful day, I don't expect the good weather to end in the near future, my blister-covered feet need a break, and most cafes (where I wanted to get some work done) were closed. On those days when I do a whole lot of nothing I feel the need to justify my idleness. I hate to think that I'm wasting my time here, that anyone else in my position would be out and about - I'm in Buenos Aires, after all. But it's not going anywhere, and neither am I, so sometimes a day to recharge is good, and by tomorrow I'll be ready to take on San Telmo and its antique fair.

So, Buenos Aires. It's certainly a vibrant city, even though I've been told it's quite empty as many porteños are still enjoying the last few weeks of vacation. I had heard that Buenos Aires is like other European cities; it's been called the "Paris of South America," but I'm sure that was just some slogan created to attract tourists. What I've found, and I don't think I'm alone in observing this, is that yes, there are several similarities between Buenos Aires and Madrid, for example. One can see the European influence in the architecture and layout of certain grand, wide avenues, such as the Avenida 9 de Julio. Cafés spill out onto the sidewalks, allowing old and young people alike to sit and watch the world go by. It was the expectation of a certain extent of familiarity which drew me to Buenos Aires, and I have found it.

What I'm trying to accustom myself to now is the differences between the barrios. I've been several times to Palermo Viejo, a wealthy neighbourhood filled with upscale boutiques and chic restaurants. While it's definitely a pretentious area, its smaller buildings and tree-lined streets are a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of Microcentro. Last night I met several other expats for dinner at a pizzeria in Palermo Viejo - no, it did not live up to my high standards. Curse you, Naples! - after which we had drinks at two different bars. I had a good time and enjoyed the locales, but I began to think that before long I would tire of the neighbourhood's snobby atmosphere. Or, before long I would become part of it. I suppose what bothers me is participating in 'that' sort of lifestyle in the face of poverty, which is the other side of Buenos Aires, and the one which strikes me as more authentic, more true. On the subte (subway) to Palermo Viejo, girls of no more than twelve years old carry infants and pass out stickers, notepads, and bracelets and ask for moneda - or change - in exchange. It's nothing I haven't seen before, and it's the same feeling of guilt that you experience upon seeing homeless people begging for money in any city - the kind that seems to overwhelm you in a moment, but not enough to make you do anything, the fleeting kind. Only here, the poverty is more of a reality, the norm rather than the exception to the rule. I don't mean to imply that everyone here is on the brink of survival, but most people here are struggling. From what I understand, the Argentine economy has improved somewhat since its collapse in 2001, but inflation is still a major problem, among others, and with the current global economic downturn, the future does not seem very promising.

It's this dichotomy which gives Buenos Aires its character: you can see the echoes of its more prosperous era, when it first emerged as world-class city in the early twentieth century. But one can also see, at times more prominently, the consequences of nearly a century of political and economic instability. While it may have strove to imitate Europe in its earlier days, the more recent turmoil has created a new reality. I know that my assertion that certain areas of Buenos Aires are more true or authentic is without proof and meaningless. But when this reality is pushed aside and out of one's vision, I can't help but think that I'm missing the big picture, and just seeing what I want to see.

I hope I haven't made too many inaccurate generalisations - I must admit to know very little about Argentine history. But that's what I'm here for, after all. To learn.

me duelen las orejas

2009-02-06T10:31:00.000-08:00

It's amazing the kind of difference a slight change in the weather can make. It's cooled off a bit - probably only 3 or 4 degrees - these past two days, yet as I walk the same crowded, decrepit streets, I feel I can breathe more easily. It could be the refreshing breeze, or it could be the initial shock of the city wearing off. Not entirely, not just yet, but little by little.

I'm still feeling pretty proud of myself for my successful "mission" yesterday. It was no great accomplishment, to be sure, but in these first few weeks it's the quotidian tasks that are daunting, and one measures progress by how confidently one asks for "un cortado, por favor", and how infrequently one hangs their head and mutters "no entiendo."

Yesterday, I went to the doctor.

I caught a cold right before I came to Buenos Aires, and I still have not been feeling entirely better. For some reason - true to my inner child - every time I catch a cold, an ear infection inevitably follows. Even Delfina remarked, "Ear infection? I haven't had one since I was eight." While still at home I went to the doctor, got an antibiotic, and hoped that that would be the end of it. The little help the medication did, however, was quickly undone by my three flights. A sharp pain pierced my ears during take off and landing, and the pressure made me feel as though my head were about to explode. Think Superman in the presence of Kryptonite. Well, I exaggerate, but you get the idea.

Obviously I survived and slowly my ears have improved - I can actually here people speaking Spanish, though I still can't understand them. But since my ears still didn't feel entirely right, I decided to go to the medical clinic (I had bought health insurance from a private company while still in the States.)

I found the building easily enough, and upon learning that the receptionist did not speak English, I tried to explain my situation: "Quiero ver un doctor. Me duelen las orejas." I must have sounded like a child, speaking in simple sentences, complaining that my ears were hurting. I was told to go around the corner to a different building, where a woman who spoke English helped me out. I had to wait five minutes to see a doctor, who promptly inspected my ears, wrote me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory drug, and then wished me well. With one beso - and only one in Argentina - I was on my way. Perhaps some people would have thought it odd that exchanges between doctor and patient begin and end with a beso, but to me it signified a more friendly, relaxed atmosphere. She would take care of me. (By 'beso' I mean the peck-on-the-cheek greeting typically associated with France. Does it have a real name?)

The entire process was very easy, even for an Anglophone. Almost suspiciously easy. Ever the pessimist, I'm sort of expecting the medicine to not work. Then again, I wasn't going in there with some rare disease - it was a routine procedure, so maybe that's why I was in and out of there in under half an hour. We'll see how I'm feeling in the next couple of days, but I have to say that for my first experience with a doctor in a foreign country, it wasn't bad.

first impressions

2009-02-04T13:47:00.000-08:00

I've been in Buenos Aires for four full days now, so I suppose some reflection is in order.

I think 'overwhelmed' best suits my current state. That, and sweaty. And tired.

With no plans, no places I had to be, and no one to answer to, I have spent the past several days exploring the city. Mostly I just walk around the different neighbourhoods. Sometimes I pause, have my cafe', recharge, and then walk some more. I've been walking a lot. Mostly because the weather has been very pleasant - apart from today, it's been around 80 degrees, perhaps a bit hotter, sunny, and breezy. Coming from an unusually cold winter in Baltimore (though mild compared to the two Canadian winters I survived), I could not be enjoying this weather and free schedule more. I figure I'll be sitting inside for most of the next month, so I might as well as see as much of the city as I can on foot before class starts on Monday.

Well, maybe I should backtrack a bit. I'm staying with a woman, Beatriz, and her daughter, Delfina, in their apartment in Congreso, a centrally located neighbourhood. While I had initially hoped to rent an apartment with my fellow students, this became too difficult to coordinate, and so I decided a homestay would be an easier option, with the added benefit of speaking Spanish. I found this place on Craigslist, so it obviously was a crapshoot. Luckily, Beatriz and Delfina have been nothing but kind, generous, and patient. Last night, for example, they took me on a "grocery shopping tour," showing me where the nearest supermarket was, and where I could get good, inexpensive fruits and vegetables (at Antonio's, just around the corner.) While we spoke in English the first two days, yesterday we began speaking more Spanish, and they were extremely patient with my broken, almost pathetic attempts. The apartment itself is very nice; it's in an old building, but it's been recently remodeled. My room, however, is a glorified closet. I suspected this by judging from the pictures Delfina had sent me. There is a bed, a couple shelves, and a window. This doesn't bother me, as I really just sleep there, and have the rest of the apartment to hang out in when I'm home - right now I'm in a smaller living room, complete with TV and loft, that's right outside my room. My bathroom is also microscopic: it would be just big enough for a toilet and sink, but instead there is a toilet, sink, and shower. I've seen and used set-ups like this before in Europe, and in fact it's not unbearable, but I have a feeling that it will get old after about a week. I mean I have to hold on to the sink when I shave so I don't lose my balance. But maybe that's just because I'm a clutz. But all in all, if a small bathroom is my biggest complaint, then I really should just shut up.

As for the city itself, it's a lot to take in. Granted, it's a huge city (there are a little over 3 million people, and 13 million in the greater metropolitan area) and I'm used to smaller cities: Bologna has under 400,000 people, and you could walk from one end of the city to the other in about 40 minutes. But besides the size, I think the heat, the omnipresent construction (at least in some neighbourhoods), and my health have compounded my sense of overwhelmed-ness (and apparent loss of proper English.) And well, I think I would be more concerned were I not overwhelmed - this is a big pretty change, after all. I like to think of myself as a mature, independent, thrive-in-the-city modern woman, but really I'm still just a kid, and sometimes I just want to curl up in a ball, close my eyes, and make everything go away. I don't know if I'll ever grow out of that, but then again I'm not sure any of us ever do.

But despite this feeling, there are several things that I can connect with, that bring me back, and strangely enough, make me feel more comfortable: the torn up sidewalks filled with dog shit, greasy mullets, lack of personal space, general loudness - I'm starting to think it's a good thing Italy didn't get on the colonizing bandwagon.

That being said, I do like most of what I have seen. On my first day I went to Recoleta, a more wealthy neighbourhood which is about 20 minutes away on foot. Delfina told me to check out the 'feria', or fair, that takes place every Sunday in the park. There were tons of vendors selling jewelry, leather goods, and other crafts, along with people sunbathing in the park and a live band. I can't think of a better first image, or memory, to have of the city.

I find that it takes me quite some time to write a post, so that by the time I'm halfway through what I had intended to write, I'm tired or find I can no longer construct a sentence. I don't think I'm going to explore as much tomorrow - I think I need a break and I may possibly go to the doctor - so maybe I'll just take my laptop to Cafe de los Angelitos and continue this allí Or should I say, ashí?

new beginnings

2009-02-02T14:21:00.000-08:00

Well, here goes.

This is the first post of my first blog, one which I have been meaning to start for some time but kept putting off for lack of a title: I wanted something witty or inspired, that would perhaps incorporate some reference to literature or film, something that would be profound yet succinct. And then I remembered that it's just a blog, and that I'm not very creative to begin with. Besides, I've been in Buenos Aires for two full days now; it's time to give the damned thing a name and go with it.

So it's 'viajar y aprovechar', which in Spanish means 'to travel and to take advantage.' Yes, I realise the irony in my choosing a Spanish title, since my knowledge of the language is limited to whatever I could teach myself from a grammar book in one month. Which, considering how enthralling grammar can be, is very limited - I can recognise the verb tenses and conjugate most verbs (damn you, stem changers!!), but I do have to pause and think before speaking. And even then it comes out with an overly exaggerated Italian accent. But I'm trying.

'Viajar' because, well, I love to travel. After living for nearly a year in Bologna and traveling throughout Europe, I knew there was no way I would be able to settle again in the US, at least not in the near future. I could go on and on about the benefits of traveling, but I feel that Peter Hoeg best captured them when he wrote, 'traveling tends to magnify all human emotions.' Last year was not a continuous 'high', but rather a general one punctuated by moments of frustration, loneliness, doubt, and boredom that are inevitable when living in a foreign country. But even during the low points, I did feel as though as I was feeling things more deeply, however vague that may sound. This was all the more reinforced during my five month period back at university and home, though the latter more so than the former. By the end of August, as I was preparing to leave Bologna (and making daily gelato runs, obviously) I felt so ready to start the next chapter of my life: teaching English abroad, though exactly where I was not quite sure at the time. So the interim five month period almost felt like a waste of time, an unnecessary delay - though in reality it was anything but, as I had to go back to Montreal to finish my degree. I was just bitter that my momentum was interrupted - I was ready to pack up and go to Latin America, but instead I had to write several papers and write more exams. And even after that, I had two more months at home in the suburbs of Baltimore. But I won't dwell on that, and to be fair it wasn't the hell I sometimes make it out to be. Besides, I had just spent a year in Italy.

'Aprovechar' because I feel it summarizes what I want to do during my time in Buenos Aires, however long it may be. I want to take advantage of living in Argentina to learn Spanish, which seems obvious enough. But beyond the language, I hope to really immerse myself in the Argentine culture, about which I know little. It basically comes down to not wanting to isolate myself in an anglophone or expat environment, though I recognise the benefits of having these communities available. But 'aprovechar' also summarizes what I am already doing by coming to Buenos Aires: taking advantage of the fact that I am young, have no obligations, and am a native English speaker to do what I love (see 'viajar'.) The decision to teach english abroad was easily made, and strikes me as an obvious choice for anyone in my position. I mean, let's face it: a history major and Italian minor doesn't exactly open many doors to lucrative careers. Moreover, any sort of 9-5 office job seems repulsive and stifling, at least at this point in my life. I realise that one day I may have to get a 'real' job, but I still refuse to accept that there is only one path to success and that eventually everyone gives in and wears a suit to work.

I suppose that I'm being extremely optimistic about teaching English, especially considering that I haven't even started my TEFL certification course, let alone the actual teaching. But despite my optimism (I am young, after all) I do realise that teaching is a job, and as such I will have to work hard. Not only to find a job, but most likely to find several jobs - from what I've read about the TEFL market in Buenos Aires, only experienced teachers get a full-time schedule; most others, particularly newbies, have to piece together several part-time jobs, and possibly private lessons, in order to pay bills and go out occasionally. I also know that I will have to put in a lot of extra hours for planning lessons and traveling between jobs for which I will not be paid. But I figure that since I'm young, I don't need to make much money, just enough to live on. If or when I change my mind, I can always pack up and leave and move on to another city with a more lucrative TEFL market (Asia, perhaps?) If I realise teaching isn't my thing, I can always go home and start from scratch. My plan, for right now, is to try this for at least a year and then go from there.

So why Buenos Aires? Whenever I told people I was moving here to teach english, I was almost always asked, "So did you learn Spanish at school?" I wanted to reply, "No, I was smart and chose Italian, because, you know, they speak it everywhere." I initially did intend to go back to Italy, southern Italy in particular, to teach English. After researching the TEFL market there, though, I learned it is very difficult for non-EU citizens to find work in the EU, and that unless you had some good credentials, which I lack, it would be near impossible to find good, legitimate work. But this alone did not deter me; rather, when I stopped and thought about it, I realised that I will never not need an excuse to come back to Europe. What I have seen of Europe, I have loved, and will always want to come back for more. More importantly, for an American, Europe is too expensive. I had my year there, and my bank account has never been the same. While I have the choice, I should live somewhere with a more favourable exchange rate.

I also realised that I know very little about the world outside of the US and Europe. While I enjoyed studying American and European history at university, it was decidedly unbalanced. Luckily a university isn't the only place to learn, and what better way to learn the history of a country, its culture, and all that good stuff than to live there? With Europe out of the mix, I considered Asia (most likely Japan) and Latin America. I thought Asia would be too much of a change - as I'm already going to have a hard time adjusting to a new language, culture, and teaching, I figure I should try to pick a place that would make the transition the least difficult. Buenos Aires stuck out immediately in my mind: it's been called the Paris of South America, and while one can debate the truth of this nickname, the European influence in Buenos Aires is palpable. The massive influx of Italian immigrants in the early twentieth century have also left a mark on the city, so I figured I could hopefully relate to that in some way (yes, I mean gelato.) In terms of learning a new language, Spanish shouldn't be that difficult after studying French and Italian. Granted, it won't be easy, but I imagine it will be easier than learning Japanese, for instance. Finally, Buenos Aires appealed to me because it's such a cosmopolitan city with a (apparently) vibrant expat community. Like I said before, I don't want to depend solely on this network, but it is nice to have.

So here I am in Buenos Aires.

This has sort of been a long-winded introduction, but it's good to explain where I've been and where I hope to go. The rest of my posts will detail how I'm doing in that journey.