el gripe, Macs, and an angry Jew.

All over the city, people are scrunching their scarves up over their mouths and noses hoping to avoid the coughs and sighs and sneezes of strangers. Even school's out for swine flu. All the universities and schools have closed to stop the spread of H1N1. So the exam I have on tuesday? NOPE. NOT GUNNA HAPPEN. Sin embargo, I'm still waiting to find out if I'm going to have to do something else, like a write a paper or something to make up for it. Celeste (home-stay mom) doesn't seem to think so, there's one vote of confidence!

Also good news in my academic world. I handed in my 28 page research paper! It only took me 3 trips to the locutorio, including several realizations of documents saved in the wrong format, files too large to e-mail, and a portable hard drive not compatible with a PC.

IF YOU ARE A MAC USER AND YOU PLAN TO LIVE IN ARGENTINA AND PRINT THINGS, BRING YOUR OWN PRINTER. AND PROBABLY A STASH OF INK CARTRIDGES. BUT DON'T WORRY, THEY HAVE PAPER.

Another exciting/crushing incident this morning was being followed down the street by a strange man after I tried to take a picture of the Jewish temple on my street that I included in my project on religious diversity in Belgrano. I had a feeling it would happen. I snapped the photo ever so quickly and turned right back down the street but he chased me down and made me erase it. For those who aren't aware of some of the events surrounding the issue of Jews in Buenos Aires here's an incredibly blunt version of what happened and what it means for nice little girls trying to write research papers:

Late 1800s: Jews from Russia settle in Argentina and start farming in the Pampas.

More Jews come, and lots move into the capital city, Buenos Aires.

WWII: Juan Perón opens Argentina's doors to protect Nazi sympathizers. Jews stop coming to Argentina. But not for too long.

1992: Israeli embassy in BA gets bombed.

1994: AMIA community center gets bombed.

Temples throughout the city crack down on who gets to come to services.

Nice, non-Jewish American girls who just want to learn and take pretty pictures and write interesting things get put on the black list and chased down the street.

Es una lastima. But even so, my paper is done and 6 copies are fresh out of the copy machine and properly bound waiting to be read by anyone who is interested. Though it's in Spanish, so I guess that somewhat limits my fan base back home. Now I don't have to think about it ever again.

Wait. Scratch that. I don't have to think about it, ooh for about another 2 weeks until I start filling out my honors thesis application forms and it becomes my life again for the next 8 months. Hot damn!

When there's nowhere else to turn...

Ok I have something to admit. I'm not totally proud of it. But it needs to be said. My new favorite place in Buenos Aires is... uuuh I can barely bring myself to say it.

It's Starbucks.

So it's not a terrible thing. Starbucks did a great thing in making quality coffee a norm, though I'll never forgive them for their bastardization of the meaning of "machhiato". I just usually pride myself on seeking out the smaller, local places like Boutique del Libro or Lentas Maravillas. But it's only one particular Starbucks in the city. I mean, I've only been to one other, the one in the Alto Palermo mall so I really can't expound on all the Starbucks in the city, but the one I'm at, in Belgrano on Federico Lacroze, is really the only place I want to be right now. Since I got to Buenos Aires I've been looking for that one cozy place, walking distance from my apartment*, my Haymarket away from Haymarket, you know? Boutique del Libro came close, but it's a haul to get there and they lack comfy chairs. But this Starbucks is really great. It's an old converted house so it has a sweet upstairs with 3 rooms packed with comfy chairs and work tables and some beautiful stained glass windows that open like french doors. And they even play decent music. So I'm here to stay. I'm sure I'll make up for it when I'm back in Northampton in 61 days.

*"walking distance" for me, I learned while my family was here, does not equal walking distance for most other people. I now also know why Becky used to get mad at me for walking too slow whenever I visited her in NYC. Believe it or not, I myself have developed my own "city walk". However, I plan to happily abandon it as soon as I'm back to wandering in the woods.

Escape from the city

A post on how much I love Colonia, Uruguay is long overdue. I’ve been there three times now, and am looking forward to one last ferry ride over there in a few weeks. If you’re into quaint, sleepy, almost even deserted, but absolutely beautiful towns, Colonia del Sacramento is the place to be. It’s right across the river, and the barrio histórico, full of shops and so-so parilla and seafood restaurants is right on the water (some times if you squint real hard the water even looks blue). There’s really nothing incredibly remarkable about it all; but the architecture is beautiful and the fact that I can spend an entire afternoon without hearing a single car horn or alarm is a simple salvation. The sun shines through cotton ball clouds and the breeze off the water rustles your hair and fills the boat sails as they drift lazily in the harbor.

Something that IS remarkable about Colonia is a little café called Lentas Maravillas. I love this place so much; I selfishly don’t want to share it with anyone else! It’s literally in someone’s living room—take a wrong turn going to the bathroom and you end up in a bedroom! They’ve got good coffee, especially on a breezy day, and a fun menu that includes 5 o’clock tea with chocolate chip cookies! When I took my family there, another family with 2 younger girls had just ordered the last 3 cookies (heartbreak). But they were just about to bake another batch, so we lounged and checked out the library full of cookbooks, travel books, books on film theory, fiction and non-fiction, (tons of books in English!) while our cookies were baked to perfection and served warm and melty, next to a cup of Illy coffee. Did I mention they have a fireplace roaring in the corner of the room? And a wall of windows with a view of the river?

Jackie and I first went there together during her visit. We noticed the sign outside the door as we were walking into the old town and decided to come back later if we had time to kill before getting back on the ferry. When we were there we sat by the fire, drank coffee, and deliberated heavily on whether or not to order dessert. The discussion was cut short when a local journalist came in to interview the owners and snap some photos for a review. She ended up taking quite a few of Jacqueline and I. Our previous dessert discussion was moot when we were served a free chocolate cheesecake with raspberries and fresh whipped cream for the “inconvenience” of being photographed for a magazine while sipping coffee and reading our books.

(my photo shoot of Jackie)

Lentas Maravillas is a place of delicious inconveniences. I’m not giving you the address. I don’t know it. It will be better to discover it for yourself. But I know where to find it and I can’t wait to go back.

A lovely day

Today was a lovely day. I woke up at a nice time, made delicious oatmeal with raisins and banana--the fact that instant oatmeal is sort of hard to come by in the shops here is a blessing, since now I am the master of perfect REAL oatmeal. Haymarket's steel-cut oatmeal bowl with fruit compote is still #1 though--went to yoga, went to the library, and ate a delicious sandwich of arugula, mushroom, sun dried tomatoes and queso blanco on pan de campo at one of my favorite spots in the whole city: Boutique del Libro. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this place before, but if I have, I'm OK with that. It's worth mentioning twice.

It's the prefect amount of cute.

It's FULL of books in all shapes and sizes.

It has a great café.

And it makes me feel all warm and cozy inside.

What more could a girl ask for? Her best friend, maybe? Aw shucks, I'll have her at my side tomorrow afternoon!

Check out Boutique del Libro in Palermo Soho (on Thames, between Costa Rica y El Salvador).

Happy Birthday, Buddha (Vesak at the Fo Guang Shan temple in Belgrano)

Made it this morning just as the ceremonies were starting... only to realize my camera was without its memory card. Good thing I live 2 blocks away from the Buddhist temple. So I flailed around the corner in my yellow high-tops and bra that was not meant for flailing. And then I flailed back. Phew.

All the picture from the ceremony are here.

punks.

(only in BsAs does a cultural show at the local Buddhist temple include tango)

Chinese tamales? mmhmmm.

Interrupción

The Subte folks went on strike this afternoon, just in time for all of BsAs's commute home. Lines for the collectivos stretched around corners and across streets; I've never seen anything like it! By some act of díos a completely empty 67 pulled up to the line I was in and I actually got a seat. The dude sitting next to me fell asleep on my shoulder and I didn't have the heart to wake him up until I had to get off. It looked like he had been having one of those days... and hey, haven't we all? I've had days when I wished there was a cute girl in a soft sweatshirt to fall asleep on too. Though I think a few months ago I probably would have freaked if a stranger fell asleep on me.

I got out of class at 5:30, and finally made it home just under 3 hours later when I promptly set about making tomato soup (with corn, garbanzos, carrot, and onion) and grilled cheese (with a shmear of homemade pesto). That sure spells comfort to me.

Almost the weekend! 12 days until Jacqueline is here!

Recipes for memories: ceviche, hauncaína, tallerines con pollo

I’m fairly certain that everyone who reads my blog already knows about my experiences in Peru (or at least that I’ve been there), but if there’s any other creepers reading who don’t, I’ll just start this post by saying that I LOVE Peru. So much so that I even tattooed my love for Peru on my foot. No, it doesn’t say “I heart Peru” or “MK+PERU4EVA” or anything, just a symbol of my time there stamped onto the top of my right foot. My month in Peru was my first trip out of the country by myself, my first real adventure, the first time I realized how much I love Latin American culture, language, food, music, history… all of that. I can’t help but compare every other Latin American country I visit to Peru. So when I arrived in Buenos Aires, a city that seems to value everything non-Latin American, I was just ever so slightly heartbroken. Most of this disappointment came from my tummy. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Argentine food does not have flavor. Yes, there is great quality beef. Yes, the produce is fresh and beautiful. But when cooked to death in a pan with glugs of canola oil and handfuls of salt, quality beef and beautiful veggies turn into blaaaah. And slapping it between paper thin slices of crustless bread does nothing to help the matter. Argentina is not the place to find rice and beans with a fried egg on top. And imported Tobasco sauce is considered “extrapicante”. Pah-lease. So why am I complaining again about tasteless porteño food? Because, yesterday I took another cooking class at Casa Saltshaker. And not just any class. A class on Peruvian cooking. Heeellll yesssss.

Ooooh it was glorious. Fancy chef Dan completely and totally won back his fancy chef reputation in my mind and belly. Dan’s boyfriend is Peruvian and these are his family’s recipes, if you’re wondering how this NYC chef came to be teaching a Peruvian cooking class in Buenos Aires. Apparently he also has a long-time student who was interested in learning Peruvian food, so he’s been cooking this stuff up for a while.

We used hot peppers (my left hand was still tingling last night as I feel asleep because I didn’t wash the pepper oils off well enough after all the chopping I did)! cilantro! garlic! lime! All the fabulous flavor combos I remember from Peru, all intensified by the fact that I haven’t tasted spice in too long (besides the Marie Sharp’s habanero sauce that came in my box of love). We made three dishes: ceviche, ají de gallina, y pollo con tallarines. All were absolutely deeelicious! I even learned how to cut up a whole chicken! COOL. So here’s the low down on these Peruvian classics. I will definitely be making these when I’m back home!

I know a lot of people aren’t that into ceviches, but I love them! And I think the fact that you can “cook” raw fish in salt and lime is pretty kick ass. We made a really classic ceviche: white fish (we used abadejo: pollack) marinated in lots of lime juice and just the right amount of salt. Then once the fish is “cooked” after 30-40 minutes marinating in the lime, you take it out of the lime juice (but add a little back in), throw in some thinly sliced red onion, rocoto pepper (a mild chili pepper… remove the seeds!), chopped cilantro, garlic, and some ginger. So fresh and cool and fabulous!

The two chicken dishes both won over my hungry belly, but the pollo con tallarines won my heart. For non hispanohablantes, pollo is chicken and tallarines just means linguini. But the sauce we made was increíble! Thick and meaty itself, but just veggies! It went perfectly with the chicken marinated in smoky ají panca roja (dried peppers). MOM! Make this, I think you’ll like it!

For the sauce:

1 Tbs olive oil

1 ½ cups peeled and finely grated carrots

1 ½ cups minced or grated onion

1 ½ cups finely diced tomato

1 ½ cups red wine

1 tsp pimentón rojo (similar to paprika)

½ tsp ground cumin

2-3 dried bay leaves (optional)

salt+pepper to taste

The onions and carrots should really be very finely grated/chopped because you want them to basically dissolve or like, mush down in the sauce. Sounds weird but it’s a great texture. First sauté the carrots in the oil with a little salt until they are soft and just starting to turn golden in color. Add the onions, pimentón, and cumin and continue cooking and stirring regularly until the mixture is dark golden in color. The liquid will have evaporated and it looks like a coarse paste. Then add the tomatoes and bay leaves and cook until the tomatoes fall apart and the liquid has evaporated again. Add the wine and bring to a boil. Continue to cook until the sauce is fairly thick.

Now, add the chicken. We used the wings, thighs, and legs (mostly all the skin removed, but left on the bone), of a chicken that I cut up! Yes! I butchered a whole chicken and then enjoyed my handiwork doused in two different sauces… sorry, but I was psyched to have learned how! Cook the sauce and chicken over medium-high heat until the chicken is lightly browned on the outside, then cover the pan and reduce the heat to low. Let it all simmah down now until the chicken is cooked. Season with salt n’ peppa to taste. Don’t forget to take out the bay leaves if you used them.

Oh right, some time during all that cook up a pot of pasta, the linguini worked nicely, but anything would do. Then serve it in a big ass bowl, family style, steaming and wonderful.

Ok, Mama? Or maybe I’ll make it for you when I get home. How about that?

And the yum doesn’t stop there!! Oh no! One more dish to go! For this one we used the breasts of the chicken that I cut up and lots of yellow chili peppers!

What you need:

Chicken breasts

4-5 yellow chilies (they give it a really bright, creamy yellow color)

fresh farmer’s cheese

a few hunks of stale bread

walnuts

milk or cream

garlic, onion, olive oil

First thing is to remove most of the seeds and veins from some fresh ají amarillo (the more seeds you leave in, the spicier it is). Then boil the chilies in water until soft. In another pan, boil the two chicken breasts until they’re cooked through but soft enough to shred.

When the chilies are soft, take them off the heat, peel them and throw them in a blender. Everything added to the blender from this point on is “to taste”. Add to the peppers: some fresh cheese (like a white farmer’s cheese), some chunks of stale bread to thicken it (I feel like this could be left out, but I don’t know…), and a handful of walnuts. Whir it up and add some milk while it’s blending until you have a thick smooth puree. This sauce is called a salsa huancaína. It’s also the base for another classic Peruvian sauce called ocopa. To make ocopa you blend in a handful of huacatay leaves (Amazon Black Mint… available in the states?) Did I mention how much I love the sound of Quechua words?

Alright, almost there. Sautee some garlic and white onion in olive oil until translucent, then add the blended sauce and continue cooking for a few minutes. Then add the shredded chicken and give it a few stirs, turn the heat down low and let it simmer for 10-15 minutes stirring occasionally.

DEVOUR IT! Usually with some rice or potatoes. MMmmm. Peruvian memories spilling aaaall over this dish.

I finally incorporated some persimmon into my dinner tonight. And it was really good. I think I prefer eating them in a savory dish to eating them raw like hand fruit. Though I haven’t tried a dessert with them yet, so who knows! Tonight I made an eggplant, chick pea, persimmon curry. I started out sautéing up some onion in olive oil and then added my Chinatown curry powders that I had toasted a bit in a hot pan. Learned that trick on the Cook’s Illustrated website (yes, that’s right, like Sports Illustrated but for kitchen nerds). To that I added a can of chick peas and let them get a little crusty before adding the chopped eggplant, persimmon, and a bit of tomato paste. Also a bit of water to get it stewin and bubblin, and some Marie because I wasn’t sure how much kick my curries had. Little salt and pepper and I just let it bubble away while I made some tortilla chips from the mini flour tortillas Celeste brought home when I asked if they had sandwich wraps here. The chips were actually delicious! Just got some oil nice and hot in the pan, rubbed a little garlic on the tortillas, cut them into chip shapes, and fried them in the oil until they were nice and crispy. Perfect dinner. I am happy.

To be honest, maybe just 2 weeks ago, I could not say I was happy here. I was having some good times and great adventures, but I was constantly anxious, uncomfortable with myself, and just all around out of it. I thought really hard about talking to someone, like a therapist or some other person of similar occupation about how weird and crappy and not myself I had been feeling here. But now that I’m cooking entirely for myself I am busier and happier and my money is much better spent on cooking classes and groceries. It’s incredible to me how much just being able to cook, to think about what I want to cook, to go to the markets, and to eat something healthy and delicious that was all my doing has improved my well-being and confidence. I just love to cook. And I think it’s a lot healthier than loving to bake… though I truly can’t wait to be back with my oven and my kitchen aid again. In a moment of weakness, this is where I found myself:

In my pjs, on my bed, eating crackers and creamed honey and looking at stand mixer product comparisons on Cook’s Illustrated. Yikes. But hey, it’s better than a crack habit, right?

Hold the miga...

...but what is miga?

This is miga. (I did not take this picture, I found it on this blog, of a miga-lover.)

Believe it or not, this is a sandwich. Argentina's favorite sandwich, in fact. What's in there? 3 thin slices of white bread (no crust) with one slice of ham and one slice of tasteless orangy cheese, separated by the middle piece of bread. Oh, and mayonnaise. The mayo is the thickest layer of the sandwich.

Miga FAQs?

What does miga taste like? Nothing. Well, not nothing. It kind of tastes like a ham flavored angle food cake with mayonnaise frosting.

Where can I get me some miga? Everywhere. Super/Maxikioskos are big purveyors of miga, where it sits for days in the refrigerators that don't quite fit into the kiosk space (the grander the prefix, the small the kiosk). Miga can even be found in the nicest corner café, but it is still the exact same thing. It is also the standard fare for 15-hour-bus meals. Packed in a styrofoam tray alongside a bun with ham and cheese on the side, a packet of mayonnaise, and 2 alfajores.

Why doesn't it have crust? Since elementary school, I have pondered the strange behaviors of my peers who requested the crust be sliced off their sandwiches. To me, the crust is the best part. The crustier the better, I say. Don't even get me started on Uncrustables. Actually now that I think about it, I bet Uncrustables were invented by an Argentine miga lover. I think they use the same "bread". Anyways, the image of miga in my mind got even worse the day I saw a woman walking down the street with two blocks of miga bread under her arms. Yeah, blocks of crustless white bready stuff, bigger than a shoe box. Just a big 'ol block of miga.

Why are Argentines devoted to miga? It's cheap. It has ham and cheese and mayonnaise. If you want to find success in Argentina, just find a way to incorporate these 4 things into whatever endeavor you choose.

These are my thoughts on miga. Now I'm going to spend a long time, trying not to think about it. Happy lunching, America.

Some times...

Sometimes I make fresh squeezed OJ.

Sometimes I stumble across super cute organic grocer/cafes...

...and sometimes there is total desayuno destruction. Bran muffins 4 life. mmmm

Natural Deli, Gorostiaga 1776

Delicious things.

Since I can't stream NPR in BsAs, my main way of staying connected to what's going on in the world is by reading the headlines on The New York Times: Global Edition web page. I set it as my homepage so even if I don't feel like making an effort to be a good, worldly citizen, at least some of the planet's goings on confront me every morning. Today, one of the featured columns was about recipes for healthy cooking. The Times has a column called Recipes for Health written by a Ms. Martha Rose Shulman, and this week, readers can post questions for her and she'll respond on the website. So I was scrolling through some of the questions, but when I came to this one, I just stopped dead in my tracks:

If flavor and aroma were not a factor what should one eat for optimum health?

-- Paul Silver

Let's all just have a moment of silence for Paul Silver and pray that he lost his olfactory capacities in a horrific freak accident. Otherwise, I just can't understand why anyone would even attempt eating anything at all sans taste or smell. Eat ice, Paul Silver. Or protein powder mixed with water. Hell, just swallow a handful of multivitamins 3 times a day.

I spent my morning in the kitchen of a closed-door home-style restaurant taking a cooking class from an award winning New York chef/sommelier. Paul Silver probably spent his google-ing how many calories there are in seltzer.

Forgetting Paul Silver for a while, I'll tell you about my cooking class. It was a vegetarian class, though really it was just 4 dishes without meat. To me, vegetarian cooking is about finding innovative, flavorful ways to incorporate different proteins into a few dishes that add up to a complete meal. But we didn't really do much in the way of innovation. We just didn't use any meat. So, the 4 dishes were as follows: Fennel with figs scented with bay leaf and cinnamon, Whole wheat langanelli with sauteed cauliflower, Brussel sprout soup, and Swiss chard pastilla. Don't get me wrong. The food was good and it was fun to be in the kitchen in a small group (just 3 students and Dan, the chef), but I did leave thinking critically of what we made and how we made it.

Fennel with Figs. The first thing that bothered me about this recipe was that it required three separate ways of cooking the fennel. First, it was boiled. Then, it was browned. And then it was baked. Just seemed a little overkill to me, especially for a dish that didn't really reflect the amount of work and machinery that went into it. And I think the fennel itself couldn't even figure out what it was supposed to taste or look like. It had the texture of a boiled vegetable, plus a barely there crust from the brief browning. And I think the time in the oven just added to the confusion. The fig part, though was great and not as sweet as I thought it would be. I've never cooked with fresh figs before and I think I'll definitely try and use them again in some other kind of dish. So, this dish was alright. But I think I'll stick with Mom's stellar roasted fennel.

Whole Wheat Langanelli with Sauteed Cauliflower. Turns out langanelli is just a fancy word for trapezoid-shaped pasta. Apparently it's related to the word "mal fatti" or "misformed". I didn't particularly enjoy this shape, and I think I'll leave my whole grains out of the pasta bowl. I just prefer regular old, white flour pasta, and as long as you don't eat it every night that's just fine. One thing I definitely have learned here (from Celeste, from this class, and from the crazy Italian man who has a pasta making show on the Argentine version of Food Network) is that it's insanely easy to make your own fresh pastas, and I think that's something I'd like to continue doing back home. So the pasta was fine, but the cauliflower was AWESOME. Definitely one of the highlights of the meal. Just some onions sauteed in olive oil, plus rosemary and red pepper flakes. Sautee the cauliflower til it's nice and brown and then turn down the heat and cover the pan until it's soft all the way through. The cauliflower didn't turn to mush, and it was nice and smoky from the browning and the rosemary. I will definitely cook that part of the dish again!

Brussel Sprout Soup. My favorite dish from today and the first soup I've had since leaving Mom's chili and pea soup far away on Piper Lane. The best part was that today was such a soup day too. It was probably not even 60 F when I left my apartment this morning, and there was a crisp breeze all day. It's finally getting to be "winter" down here. So this recipe was fabulous, and the brussel sprouts just started coming in last week so it was very seasonal. We started by learning to make vegetable stock which is incredible simple and wonderful and a skill I will bring back to the kitchen at home. Then we just sauteed onion added the brussel sprouts, carrot, veggie stock, a bit of "leftover" white wine (what? leftover wine? never heard of such a thing), and some salt+pepper and let it simmer until everything was cooked through. Then we pureed it all (which I'm usually not that into, but it totally worked since brussel sprouts can't really be bite sized without falling completely apart) and sprinkled a little parsley on top. YUM.

Swiss Chard Pastilla. I'll just lay it out there... sorry fancy chef Dan, but my spinach pie that I adapted from the recipe in Barefoot Contessa easily beats out your version. The swiss chard we used was also a little overgrown, in my opinion, so I tasted a bit of that chalky, bitter aftertaste you get from overgrown chard. This was just your basic phyllo dough crust + greens and pine nuts, you know, that kind of thing. The way to make it a real vegetarian dish (and a real TASTY dish, to me, at least) is to bind the filling with an egg and throw some feta or ricotta in there! Today's version just ended up being some sort of soggy greens with some interspersed pine nuts and raisins encased in some crispy phyllo. Oh well. I did learn a good trick though, for making sure the bottom of the phyllo doesn't get gummy... when you take the dish out of the oven, throw it on top of the burner for 2-3 minutes and it will crisp up the bottom. Also makes it easier to get out of the pan. So, thanks for the tip! It'll just make my recipe even better!

Despite my critiques, this morning was a blast. I did learn some new skills and tips and it's also a good feeling to realize that I know my way confidently around the kitchen and do a pretty great job. I'm looking forward to another class with Dan next Monday on Peruvian cooking, so I'm hoping to learn some things I've never tried before!

Thanks Mom and Pop for teaching me how to enjoy preparing and eating food. If only Paul Silver had been fortunate enough to have a family like mine...

These are a few of my favorite things...

Mom says the blog is boring since I haven’t posted in weeks, so it’s her fault I’m writing this instead of doing homework!

Since I’ve returned from my week away in the west of Argentina (pictures of the trip to San Juan and Mendoza are here) things in BA have been pretty rosy! The time away from the city was perfect: we strolled through the moonscape desert of Parque Nacional Ischigualasto, pushed our car across a dried out lake bed in Leoncito, gave a nod to those Andes that separate us from Chile (Andes and lake bed pictured above), and sipped Malbec at a bodega familiar in Mendoza. While I headed back to the city with still a bit of reservation, this week has been wonderful. I’ve stayed pretty close to home in Belgrano, acclimating myself to city life again. So here is a list of some wonderful places, restaurants, and people I have found in this city so far. And may I continue to make more and more lovely discoveries!

Favorite neighborhood:

Belgrano. Of course! Now that I’ve lived here for about 2 months (63 days to be exact) I am so comfortable in my barrio. Sure, I still love the old architecture and bohemian scene of San Telmo, but Belgrano has truly won my heart. One of the best things about Belgrano is that there’s really no tourist presence besides the scattered university students. Since it’s such a trek from el centro, Belgrano is not really mentioned in the guide books. It maintains a real relaxed, family vibe, since it’s a mostly middle-class neighborhood and there’s a ton of schools.

Favorite Ice Cream:

Persicco. While good, hard American ice cream still reigns supreme in my mind (just ask Clark—I’m still trying to get him to bring a cooler full of Ben & Jerry’s as his carry on when he comes to visit in July) the best Argentine helado I have tried in BA is definitely at Persicco. Persicco has 4 locations around the city, but I’m pretty sure the one in Belgrano is the best. On the corner of Juramento y Cuba, it is right in front of the Plaza Belgrano, which fills up on weekends with a funky crafts market. The café has a great terrace on the second floor that overlooks the plaza and the Redondo, the huge domed roof of the beautiful church next door.

It’s got wireless internet and offers a full café menu so it’s a nice place to study too. My favorite flavors so far are Chocolate Amargo (bitter chocolate) with Dulce de Leche Casero con Brownie. Considering the fact that I don’t even like actual dulce de leche, I think my devotion to Persicco’s ice cream version is remarkable. Persicco is a little expensive, but totally worth it. And before mom sent my trusty French press and a pound of ground coffee, it was the only place where I could find an America-sized mug of plain black coffee.

Favorite Pizza:

Burgio Pizzeria on Cabildo y Monroe. This is real, Argentine style pizza. Thick, fluffy crust loaded with an inch thick layer of gooey cheese (broiled and crunchy on top), and topped with things like onion, tomato and spices, or ham and cheese (of course). This is not a snack. This is lunch AND dinner. And it’s soooo good. I went to Burgio for the first time this weekend, drawn in by the crowd of middle-aged men eating their slices while standing up at the counter in the front. When I tried to stand and order my slice, I was ushered towards an area with tables and chairs where all the other women were seated. This place really is a time warp! Two slices and two beers later, I left with a buzz, a full belly, and the fortitude to walk both off. Coincidentally, I ended up walking to Persicco. I just seem to end up there... every day...

Favorite place to grocery shop:

La Calle Juramento. All my favorite shops are on this street, and it’s just 3 blocks from my apartment. There’s Verde Brote, the natural foods store that sells dried fruits, vegetables, beans, some spices, canned black beans (which are truly a novelty in this city) and tostito style corn chips (for the celiacs, remember?). A block up from there is the Feriado Modelo Belgrano, and indoor market style place with butchers, fresh fish, veggie stands, some prepared foods, and a kick-ass place that has all sorts of imported cheeses. One of the veggie guys even sells all different kinds and colors of Andean potatoes! Great place, but they close at 13hs and open back up at 18hs, which can be a heartbreaker if you forget. Just a few steps away is the COTO, which after a rocky start to our relationship, is now my grocery store of choice. The first time I went I was short on cash so I stocked up on a few more things and tried to use the credit card. Turns out you need your passport to use a credit card in the COTO, so they turned me down and I stormed out. But now that I know, I always bring cash and it always has good prices and mostly everything in stock.

Favorite yoga studio:

Fundación Indra Devi. I’m pretty sure this place, mostly my instructor, Norma, is saving me here in BA. After my first class with her, Norma gave me a huge, warm hug. It made me realize I had not been hugged since I left my parents at security in the Providence airport. Now I get Norma hugs 3 times a week! The classes are wonderful; I stretch and twist alongside women of all ages and abilities. The studio has such a relaxed, unpretentious vibe, unlike the “bougie”, new-age place I checked out in Palermo. And it’s been there since 1988 so it’s well-loved, lived in, and the instructors know what they’re doing.

Favorite subway stop:

Jose Hernandez on the D-line. This is where I get off when I’m headed home and tired, usually on Thursdays after a full day of class. Usually, I get off at the Juramento stop so I get a bit more of a walk in on my way home. But I like Jose, because around midday there’s always a reggae band just hanging out, playing all afternoon. There’s also this really random display case supposedly to show off BsAs culture, but it’s always ironically empty. Hm.

Favorite colectivo:

The 67. I pick it up right on Avenida Cabildo, the main street that runs 4 blocks from my apartment. For those of you coming to visit me, the 67 will most likely be gloriously transformed into Mary Kate’s low-budget BsAs bus tour!!! Well, if I have enough monedas to spare, of course. I take the 67 to my Castellano class up on Castex in Palermo, and some times to the center too. It runs down Sarmiento and Libertador, the streets that line the Palermo parks and botanical gardens, and goes right past the Malba (favorite museum) and the big metal flower structure that opens and closes every day. Then it heads down to el centro, parallel to 9 de Julio, right by the obelisk. What a ride.

Epiphany. Maybe.

Was it the hand of God that reached into my brain yesterday afternoon? Or was it the passionate beckoning of a street musician asking me to throw my hands up, not in despair, but to dance and clap and jump with him? Whoever it was that showed me the way, I finally feel like I have a reason, a thesis, some inspiration. Yesterday, walking the craft-packed side streets around the antiques fair in San Telmo’s Plaza Dorrego my friends and I were drawn in to a circle of spectators jumping and clapping and dancing along with a group of street musicians. Hand drums, trombone, trumpet, acoustic guitars, all playing together and then singing together over the guitars and drums. It was like ska, marching band, drum circle, salsa, reggae all mixed together into this incredible sound; you couldn’t help dancing. And with lyrics about peace, beauty, culture, a new world, music, life, love… I was hooked.

OK. Rewind. Back up.

Rome, 1965. Old men in robes sitting around trying to figure out how to revive the Catholic Church and make it relevant in contemporary culture, also known as Vatican II. Blah, blah blah, lots of Latin, blaaaah blah blah blah. Got it! Make Catholicism more accessible to people worldwide! Include all languages, forms of expression, and hey, let’s start using new kinds of art, literature, and music to communicate with people around us!

Skip to 1960s Latin America: home to intense social stratification, Liberation Theology, and claves. Frustrated people looking for answers, a powerful institution willing to provide needed social services, and a killer music scene.

Now we’re in Argentina. Buenos Aires, to be exact, the year is 2009. The city is practically devoid of Catholic practice. What’s that you’re asking about holy week? Religious festivals? Ritual?

No. Nada. Vamos a la playa.

Step back. Freak out. Go chill at the antiques fair in San Telmo. Typical South American tourist crafts, woven bracelets, leather goods, street food. Aaah, that’s better. There’s a little more to this place than ham and cheese after all...

Here come the street musicians. They were a group called Radio Roots, and for me, they gave me something to believe in, or at least to think about a little more. Seems to me that the spirit, and maybe the spirituality and faith too, of Liberation Theology is still around. You just have to wander down a side street to find it, or hear it, I guess. These guys are singin and dancin to spread a message about peace, equality, and beauty… all the things that the Church claims to be about. They seem to have a vision of a better world and society. And what’s more, they’re young and they have the energy and the ability to communicate that the old guys in the robes lack. And it seems like Buenos Aires is listening. At least this chica is!

So maybe this is what I’ve been looking for. To inflict some religion major lingo on this idea (which is inevitable if I’m looking to get a grade out of it), I could even call it postmodern. Sounds fancy, right? Mensajes por Música (I do love a good alliteration): Expresiones Postmodernas de Espiritualidad y Fe en Buenos Aires.

Commence head scratching. Maybe it’s just some BS. But it sounds a lot more fun than papal documents.

What do you think?

Some other goings on. Day 32

Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day; it was the second time I’ve been outside the US to celebrate. Last year, I was in Ireland. St. Patrick’s Day in BA was a little different, to say the least.

Since Gina’s homestay mom is out of the apartment for the week, I met Gina at her place in Almagro to drink some wine and watch a bit of Orgulloso y Prejuicio (nothing like beautiful people with British accents to make you feel like home). Then we met up with Kara and headed to Temple Bar on Marcelo T Alvear right en el centro. There was free face paint (I’m still working on getting the last flecks of glitter of the right side of my face), expensive drinks, and lots of drunk dudes. Most of the time, Argentine men are only %20 alcohol, 80% vain and self-assured. St. Patrick’s Day, it seems, is the one night when they’re just aaaall 100% crunk-ass playas. No thanks! The three of us girls finally resorted to adopting alter egos when anyone stumbling/sketchy/with a mullet tried to approach us. Kara pretended to be mute. Gina only spoke in a low voice that rivaled the cigarette encrusted scratch of Molly’s host mom. I was from France… “Je ne comprends pas!” When Temple Bar got a little old, we headed over to a block party on Reconquista, and pretty much immediately realized it was NOT the place for three young American women to be walking around. Stuff was on fire. Broken glass everywhere. Packs of men chanting and clapping around a bagpiper (who knows where he came from?) So we ducked out faster than they could say “De donde sos? Wayhr ahrd yous flrom?”

Another big day is coming up as Barbara’s fiesta de quince is this friday. I saw the dress the other day. Think pink Cinderella + strawberry cupcake. She’s going to look beautiful. Did I mention there’s 170 guests? And it doesn’t end until 6am? Everyone’s busy with the preparations…

My search for a new dress to wear to the party lead me into Palermo Soho yesterday after I met Molly and Kara for the most delicious pizza I’ve had here so far. The place was called Io te amasso… thin crust and deeeelicious. For some reason, most pizza places here like to include huevos duros (hard boiled eggs) and salsa golf on every slice, but gratefully, this place was self-proclaimed “Italian style” and neglected the Argentine fascination for the strange mixture of mayonnaise and ketchup. At least I think that’s what it is.

Just down the street from the pizza place was the big fancy shopping district with all of BA’s top designers. Papa, don’t worry! I restrained myself! But it was fun to window shop alongside the rich and famous for a few hours!

Almost forgot an important update! The oven works! I made my first batch of cookies this afternoon. They came out alright for not having measuring cups, baking soda, or eggs. Yup, I banana battered those babies and they still came out pretty good! They look a little funny, and they’re very dense without the leavening, but throw sugar, banana, oatmeal, walnuts, and chocolate chunks in anything and it’s sure to be delicious!

Well, its about time for a family skype date and maybe even some homework before classes tomorrow. Hasta luego!

Filling some gaps.

It’s been a while since I did a real post about how everything is going here in BA.

Bariloche was a blast. The land is absolutely beautiful: mountains, lakes, snow capped peaks in the distance, rocky beaches, coniferous forests. I felt like I was back in New England! Definitely a much needed siesta from the sounds, smells, and speed of the city that had been wearing on me. I did a few great hikes up to summits and down to beaches and made some new friends. But I think my most enjoyable and memorable moments I spent alone! After a late night (in bed by 6am) I somehow managed to wake up at 9am, refusing to sleep away my days in Patagonia. With most of my friends still asleep, I went down and shared breakfast with some other early risers from the group and truly, deeply enjoyed my refillable, free mug of black coffee. Sure have been missing it! It was such a beautiful morning, but the afternoon threatened to be gray, cold, and rainy, so I took my fourth cup with me, down one of the hotel trails that lead to the beach. It was so nice to just walk the beach that morning with no one else in sight. I walked as far as I could go until I just stood on an outcrop of rocks that dropped off into the lake. I stood there for a long time in the cold wind, just reveling in the sound of the world without cars and horns and people yelling on the sidewalk. I even sounded a barbaric YAWP across the mountaintops of the world. What a way to start the day! I think it was the first time I’ve been alone and at peace since the rooftop terrace of the hostel my first night.

So, all alone, with nothing in sight except for the warm sun and a refreshing glacial lake… what to do? what to do?? Clearly, the only option was to do a little skinny-dipping and I’m SO glad I did. It was incredible. Cold, but then not at all (adrenaline rush?) And absolutely liberating and glorious. My favorite memory of the whole weekend!

I ate some delicious food in Bariloche too. However it got there, Bariloche is home to a traditional Swiss colony, reflected in the architecture and of course, the chocolate. There was one place, Mamushka, that I frequented for their chocolates artesenales. Que rico! My trusty Lonely Planet recommended Mamushka, and it didn’t let me down!

However… when Gina and I were looking for a dinner place not far from the hotel, LP didn’t serve us quite as well. We had an epic journey that thankfully ended in a delicious, relaxed, perfect dinner. But getting there was kind of crazy. We left the hotel around 8 and got on the colectivo that runs from Llao Llao, the area where our hotel was, into the center of Bariloche. The previous night, Gina and I had had quite an encounter with the colectivo, during which we met Sirius Black (a gigantic black dog that waited for the bus with us) and even accompanied the bus driver as he stopped the bus on the side of the road to smoke a cigarette. Gotta love Argentina.

After passing the restaurant we were going to go to, which we were later glad about because it turned out to be a big tourist, chain kind of deal, we ended up all the way back in the center of Bariloche. I remembered another place from the Lonely Planet, but we had to walk clear across town to find it, and when we finally did it was closed and abandoned. Oops. All was not lost! We stopped in a little hotel at the edge of town and they recommended a place that was fantastic, lovely, relaxed, and way cheaper than all the places in the center. Gina had one of the most beautiful steaks I’ve ever seen, complete with two fried eggs on top, and I tried the grilled trout, which was also perfect. Add a bottle of red wine and you’ve got two happy Americanas en Patagonia.

Sorry for blaspheming the Lonely Planet, Abby... don't worry I still love it!!!

Of all the food I ate in Bariloche, and maybe in BA too, my favorite meal was CHURRIPAN. Right in the crafts market, there was just a dude with a big grill, grillin up delicious meat. Churripan, also spelled Choripan, is like the Argentine version of a hotdog. Here, they call American hotdogs panchas, but churripan is like big hunks of chorizo sausage on a bun, and then there were all these tubs of sauces like chimichurri, and pickled hot peppers and onions, the first hint of spice since I’ve been here. Basically, it was delicious and perfect and only 5 pesos, and I went back the next day for more.

The trip was full of good food, hiking, and swimming. The only big disappointment is that Gina and I were all ready to go paragliding while we were there, but we couldn’t because of the weather. But now we’re planning our next trip to Salta, or Córdoba, world famous para/hang-gliding destinations. Can’t wait!

Returning to the city was a little rough, I wasn’t quite ready to give up nature again. But I got by by visiting the rose garden in Palermo and exploring more of my neighborhood, Belgrano, which is much calmer than the city center. I also went to the zoo with some friends and have been exploring more of the markets around town.

This past weekend ended up being quite a cultural experience. What started with a great, cheap, chill dinner with my friend Molly at a hole-in-the-wall Columbian restaurant (rice and beans at last!) ended up as a night out at one of BA’s biggest night life hotspots, a club called Crobar. I suppose I’m glad to have experienced it, but I don’t think I ever really need to do anything like it again. It was crazy; I didn’t leave until 6am and there were still people lined up outside trying to get IN. Take a nap, Argentina!

Then Monday brought on my first day of class at UCA, Pontificia Universidad Católica de Argentina. I tried a class called Ciencia y Religión, but I don’t think it’s quite what I’m looking for. I have two more classes to check out on Thursday. But otherwise, I’m bumming around a lot this week which is kind of nice. I need to get some ideas going to start my research project, and I’ve been checking out some volunteer opportunities in the city too. I’m also really excited to check out a yoga class tonight at a studio in Palermo. At last!

Right now I’m writing from a bookstore on Avenida Santa Fe that’s in an old converted theater. It’s called El Ataneo and it’s a fun place to be, though very much full of tourists. Full of books, and the balconies have more shelves and some private reading rooms. The stage is a café--absurdly overpriced, but very cool, since the likes of Carlos Gardel (tango singer, Argentine hero) have performed on it. It’s an absolutely beautiful building, and there’s classical music and the happy hum of tourists to accompany a little reading/writing time.

Update:

THIS JUST IN. MOUNTAINS OF PEANUT BUTTER FOUND IN CHINATOWN.

Ooookaaaay friends. Today I went to Chinatown, which just happens to be maybe 10ish blocks away from my apartment in Belgrano. While BA’s Chinatown only takes up one block of la calle Arribeños, it is chock full of everything I’ve ever wanted at this very moment. Well, one store is, to be exact. The Asian marketplace. I was one playing of Single Ladies away from weeping in the middle of the spice aisle.

Chili sauce! Curry powder! Red pepper flakes! Masala powder! Sacks full of fresh and toasted nuts! Dijon mustard! Balsamic vinegar! Argentina really has great food, but they’re not into spices or spicy stuff at all. So I am unbelievably thankful for Chinese cooking.

AND PEANUT BUTTER. That’s where all the peanut butter in Argentina is. Los chinos have it! Me encantan los chinos!

Also, it’s pretty awesome to encounter an entire Chinese community speaking Spanish. Even the little Chinese babies toddling along speaking Spanish! Abby, I finally understand why you love Asians so much. They are truly beautiful people. However it got here, Chinatown is my new favorite place.

AND I NEVER HAVE TO GO TO JUMBO EASY AGAIN.

MEGA ULTRA SUPER JUMBO AMERICAN

So the past two days, I have definitely let a bit of homesickness get to me. It all started Tuesday night when I got back to my apartment from meeting up with friends for a few drinks and found Sex and the City on tv in English! All of a sudden I found myself on Jcrew.com, craving peanut butter, and wishing I was back home snuggling with Trot and Emma! Speaking of other cravings, in a desperate attempt to find out more about “leche larga vida” (long life milk that doesn’t have to be refrigerated until it’s opened) or whether or not normal (American style) milk exists in BA, I wound up on the online forum for American expats living in Buenos Aires. This website, http://baexpats.org/index.php, is pretty hysterical and actually pretty helpful. It introduced me to a part of the city I may never have learned about.

The Jumbo and Easy. And it said they sell peanut butter. Imported Skippy, to be exact.

Some online descriptions describe the Jumbo and Easy as Argentina’s answer to BJ’s, Target, Wal-Mart, all those horrendous American big-box stores we can’t help but turn to for shopping convenience. My friend Molly says it’s like Ikea and Super Wal-Mart had a baby. A big, big baby. So yesterday, I decided I would make the trip to Jumbo and Easy to stock up on whatever bulk dry goods I could get my hands on. As a side-note, lunches with our homestay families aren’t included in IFSA-Butler room & board, and as I don’t want to pay to eat lunch at a café every day, some real grocery shopping was actually necessary. As all varieties of fresh fruits, veggies, and meat are available at the corner kiosko, all I needed were the Jumbo and Easy dry goods.

The trip to Jumbo and Easy was an experience I’m glad I could have. But I think I’ll be rationing my hoard so I never have to go back again. I ended up with this:

3 Ziploc Tupperware containers

2 boxes Barilla Farfalle pasta

1 box cous-cous

1Kg brown rice

2 cans lentils

2 cans chick peas

1 jar of “Gurken-Sticks” (pickles!)

1 small wheel of brie

an assortment of pecans, walnuts, almonds, raisins, and dried pears

1 box granola

Nature Valley granola bars

1 12oz. jar of SKIPPY SUPERCHUNK EXTRA CRUNCHY PEANUT BUTTER

At first, I thought I wasn’t going to find the PB. Nowhere to be found in the jelly/preserves/dulce de leche aisle, I searched frantically in the American imports section (Tabasco and Ramen noodles were also chosen to represent our country at the Jumbo Easy), but to no avail. Up and down every aisle, I had given up on the one real reason I came to Jumbo Easy, when I saw it. Just one lonely 12oz. jar, nestled alongside some other misplaced items at the back of a half abandoned shelf. I like to think it was the last jar left and it was saving itself just for me.

I’m totally OK with being a peanut butter crazed American. I’m getting used to the fact that I’m actually homesick, a feeling I’ve never travelled with until now. I am missing a lot of people, and 2 dogs, back home, but I know that once I find some regularity in my routine (and now that I’ve found the peanut butter), everything will be just fine.

I think it’s time to make a sandwich.

Full

I’m finally feeling like I can love Buenos Aires. The first few days I was here I was completely overwhelmed by heat, sweat, and public transportation. I was thinking that BA was a big, dirty city, that I could get used to it, but that I probably wouldn’t love it. But now after some more exploring, a lot more walking, and a few thunderstorms that broke the heat wave, I finding the real beauty in this big, dirty city.

This weekend has been wonderful and relaxing. On Friday night I met up with friends and we went to one of BA’s microbreweries in Recoleta, across from the cemetery where the Perones and the rest of Argentina’s VIPs are buried. After a few samples, we headed over to San Telmo to a 3-story nightclub called Rey Castro. The place was mostly locals and only played Latin music, which was really fun (though of course I was craving a little Single Ladies, as always). The only American song they played was the Twist, and all the porteños knew how to twist! It was fantastic! We left the club around 3am, about the time Argentina’s senior citizens start to think about going to sleep… but we had big plans for Saturday so a few extra hours of sleep were necessary.

Back in San Telmo on Saturday, my friends and I planned to meet at Plaza Dorrego, known for its weekend arts and antiques market. I took the subte (which is actually quite pleasant outside of rush hours) to Plaza de Mayo where I snapped some pictures of la Casa Rosada and the Banco Nacional de Argentina. The architecture here is really incredible. Most of it is modeled after classic French architecture, with the occasional Spanish Colonial catedral thrown in there just to mix it up. Plaza de Mayo is also the site where the mothers of children and families kidnapped during the dirty wars in the 70s and 80s march in non-violent protest. Las Madres still march there every Thursday, and their symbolic white head scarves and pleas for their families are painted on the bricks of the plaza.

From Plaza de Mayo, I walked down the cobble stoned calle Defensa into the heart of San Telmo. This street is lined with fabulous antique shops. The ceiling of one was entirely covered with crystal chandeliers! So beautiful! On one corner of Defensa is the market at Plaza Dorrego where we drank some espresso and watched the tango shows that spring up anywhere tourists gather.

Then, it was time for asado.

Asado is an Argentine tradition of grilling up every possibly edible part of cows and pigs and stuffing your face with meat and wine until you are deliriously happy and don’t need to eat for days. OK, maybe the latter half of that isn’t so much tradition as it is just hungry Americans in Argentina. So let’s see, we ate chorizos, morcillas (blood pudding), chinchulines (intestines), tiras (ribs), mollejas (um, glands), and every other unknown delicious hunk of meat the asador threw on our plates. Did I mention the place we were at, Siga la Vaca, is all you can eat? For 63 pesos each, less than 20 bucks, each of us got all the meat, roasted vegetables, cheeses, prosciuttos, and breads we could consume. And a few bottles of wine too. Gracias a dios, I’m no longer vegetarian.

It’s been a fabulous weekend. Not much more to tell about since after the afternoon of asado I’ve been pretty lazy. Though today I did explore more of Belgrano. BA is full of surprises, and I’m so glad I get to spend time here.

Off to learn to make homemade pasta with my homestay mom! The rest of my pictures are here.

Quirks and coins

Buenos Aires is a quirky little town (or sprawling metropolis of 40.5 million). Just getting around is an experience in itself. The traffic lights look and function just like ours, except they turn yellow even before turning green. If you feel a few drops of water drip, drip, dripping on you, or splashing off the sidewalk, is it a mid morning sun shower? Nope. It’s the air conditioners dripping water from 2, 3, 4 stories up. Beware the dog walkers, especially in Belgrano, who walk 8 to 12 dogs at a time and leave a lovely, smelly trail wherever they roam.

If you have too far to walk, you just grab el colectivo (the bus) or el subte. The subte is just like the Metro or the T. The colectivo however, comes with a whole new set of rules. First of all, to get around by colectivo, you definitely need your GUIA “T”—without it you’re absolutely doomed. This 192 page guide to the colectivos is possibly one of the most confusing map systems I’ve ever tried to navigate. We spent over an hour of our Spanish class learning how to use it. But once you figure it out, it works just fine. The only other thing you need to take the colectivo is las monedas. Coins.

And they’re absolutely impossible to get. The shortage of monedas has got to be the most annoying economic crisis in the world.

At first, I thought it was a ploy by the taxi drivers. Horde coins so that people trying to get home at night (after the subte stops running at 22:30) have to hail a cab since they can’t pay for the bus. Turns out, it’s actually the bus companies themselves hording las monedas! Companies sell monedas on the black market for more than the coin value, because you can’t use the colectivo without them. In turn, this creates a whole new set of problems. Coins become more precious than higher value paper money. Shopkeepers would rather make you pay 1 centavo less than give up their monedas! Even by day two, my friends and I have already found ourselves bragging about our new found monedas.

I think it’s kind of crazy that after 2 days I’m pretty comfortable getting around BA on my own. Me, the girl from the pueblito en el bosque. Belgrano is pretty far from el centro; it takes me about 45 minutes of walking and subte riding to get to where our orientation classes are, but I can handle it! Orientation is going well! Lots of information, and it really tires you out focusing on how to register for classes and all that, all the while translating every bit of it as you go. But my language skills have also surprised me, and I’m not scared anymore of my classes being completely in Spanish. Outside of class there’s been lots of hanging out at cafes, a tour of el barrio Retiro which is absolutely beautiful, and a few nights out.

Fine wine is cheaper than shitty beer here. Perfecto.

A lot more fun to look forward to as I’m getting closer with new friends and making plans for more areas to explore for nights out and weekend trips too. This weekend I think we’re going to check out some all you can eat asado and maybe even head to Puerto Madero for the last weekend of Carnaval. Sounds delicious!

Over the rooftops...

I have arrived safely at my hostel in Buenos Aires! And thank god, because there was about 10 minutes after leaving the airport when I just wanted to abandon my 100lbs. of luggage and sit my sweaty ass down on the curb. But after denying an oncoming freak-out I tightened the straps of my pack a little tighter and kept going.

My flight wasn’t bad at all. I actually slept through most of it, having only been interrupted once by my seatmate, a large Slavic man programming his new iPhone and testing out all the possible ring tones. The headphones were in his ears. I guess he missed the instructions to plug them into the phone too. Besides that, it was all good. I ate two crappy plane meals, drank a miniature bottle of red wine, and woke up to find myself just an hour away from my destination.

A bus ride and then a van ride later, I am now sitting on the rooftop terrace of my hostel, Portal del Sur. I’m just a block away from the 16 lanes of Avenida 9 de Julio, the widest street in the world, I think. It has crosswalks, which is kind of scary. I’ve already had my first café con leche at a little place on the corner and am looking forward to a cold beer on the rooftop when the bar opens in a few minutes. It’s almost 19:00 here, and not even a hint of sunset. Just blue skies, hot sun, and a bit of a breeze. There’s some Spanish Top 40 type stuff playing on the radio too. Life is good, and I know there’s still more to come.

I made it through my first Spanish phone conversation a little earlier, with Celeste. I’m headed out to her home in Belgrano tomorrow afternoon to drop off my stuff and take a stroll around the neighborhood. I might even head to San Telmo tomorrow, where there’s an antiques market every Sunday en la Plaza.

I miss my family and friends, but I’m relieved and excited to be here at last. It’s been a long day, but a great one so far. I think it’s about time for that beer.