Noche en Vela: celebrating democracy

After a difficult decision not to go on any trips this weekend, I was delighted to find out how many cultural events were going on to celebrate Memorial Day.  It is one of the most important, if not the most important holidays of the year in Argentina.

It commemorates the day when democracy returned to Argentina after the military takeover.  During the seven years of the dictatorship, known as the Dirty War, 30 thousand people disappeared.  The military called for a state of emergency whenever it wanted, so people could rarely leave their home or be in the streets.  Also during this time was the Falklands War against England.  Due to the hatred against England, anything English was banned: books, music, movies, even the language.  When Argentina played England in soccer, the announcers could only say "the other team."  This is obviously a VERY short summary, but it's fascinating, and I encourage you all to learn more about this tragedy.

Many children disappeared during the Dirty War.  This picture satirizes it.

Anyways, Noche en Vela is the exact opposite.  There wasn't much talk of the Dirty War or "los desaparecidos" (the disappeared), but it was a celebration of all the things they weren't allowed to do during the dictatorship.  Thousands of people filled the streets from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. to listen to music, dance, sing, shop, whatever your heart desired.  Libraries were open 24 hours to promote freedom of speech and press.  Theater acts were performed everywhere.  Over 100 free activities took place throughout the entire city of Buenos Aires.

There were three main routes.  We took the Center route in the heart of the city.  The evening started by honoring Earth Hour/Hora del Planeta, an hour where major cities around the world turn off the lights on monuments and government buildings to save energy and raise awareness about conserving the planet.  It was kicked off by a concert by Elena Rogers, who had a beautiful voice.  Next up was Taiko, traditional Japanese drum performers.  Too bad the lights were off and we couldn't see them! These events took place at the Obelisk, the monument that marks the exact center of Buenos Aires.

After Taiko, we headed back down to Plaza de Mayo where we got to watch live tango performances in the lit windows and balconies of the House of Culture/ Casa de la Cultura.  It reminded me of Living Windows.  It was kind of hard to see because they were so high up, but there was a singer in one window, instrumentalists in another, and dancers in another.  Each was lit a different color.


My absolute favorite part of the night was watching La Clave, a group of Carnival street performers from Uruguay.  I didn't miss out on Carnival after all!  10-15 men wore outrageous costumes, singing and dancing while telling a very political story.  Their singing was phenomenal.  It was mostly a capella, accompanied only by drums and symbols.  Super-talented guys.

The rest of the night was 6 hours of walking and stopping at different activities.  We danced in the streets  to a DJ and joined a soul train.  We watched hundreds of people dance tango in the streets to a live performer.  We watched a jazz concert through the window of a bar because the bar was too full.

When we were almost too tired to walk, we returned the North side (by our house).  Plaza Francia, the park by our house, was described in the program as being lit by hundreds of different colored lights.  Really, it was an exhibit with this lit balloon bulbs that changed colors.

Our last stop was the Recoleta Cemetery where a projector showed 3D images of the inside of the cemetery.  The scary gatekeeper toured you through the hallowed halls to make stops at different mausoleums.  We didn't stay long, but we saw the ghost of a woman visiting her grave before she laid down and returned to stone.  Except the gatekeeper found her scarf. Ooooooh, spoooooky.

Overall, it was a super fun night.  I felt honored to take part in such a cultural and important celebration.  I think it was a much better tribute to freedom than our fireworks.  Don't get me wrong.  I love Memorial Day and 4th of July, bbqs, and fireworks, but how often to we stop to remember the hard work and suffering it took to get there.  I know I will come back with a much greater reverence for those holidays.

Church/ Iglesia

Last week I went to church with another girl from our group, Bianca.  She goes every week and has invited me several times, but I'm terrible at waking up on Sunday mornings.  Plus, we're usually gone on the weekends, or I'm catching up on schoolwork.  She was attending the evening service, so I finally quit making excuses and went.  We rode the bus for about an hour to a suburb of Buenos Aires to attend the Christian Bible Church.

I personally choose to practice spirituality more-so than religion, but it never hurts to congregate with positive, loving people.  Besides, I thought it would be interesting to see a church service in a different country.

It broke all sorts of stereotypes.  Everyone knows South America is a predominantly Catholic culture; the same goes for Argentina.  The reason Bianca travels an hour to go to church is because it's more evangelical.  It was shocking to be in a church almost exactly like the one I grew up in when the only picture I had in my head of Argentine religion was Catholic cathedrals.  Service opened with worship songs accompanied by a few singers and a band.  Afterward, we listened to the choir and heard the service.   I felt like I was in the twilight zone because it was the exact Spanish version of First Assembly of God in Jefferson City.

Like I said before, I have a very open idea of religion and don't consider myself Christian even though I have a very close relationship with God, or whatever you want to call our creator (Mother Nature, Allah, Buddah, etc.)  Anyways, I don't attend church regularly, but the sermon was exactly what I needed.  I'm a huge believer in faith and metaphysics, which is what the pastor was talking about.  Verbalizing your faith makes it a reality.  Sounds a lot like "Think.  Feel. Receive" right? Anyways,  I tried my best to sing along with the songs.  Even just singing was a big morale booster.  Music is one of the biggest parts of my life, and the lack of it in BA makes me sad.  There's music everywhere I guess, but not my piano, guitar, concerts, or late night drives SCREAMING at the top of my lungs.

I felt truly empowered after listening to the sermon, and afterwards Bianca introduced me to friends she's made over the last couple months.  I'm really happy I went.

Back to the Bright Side

At least in the midst of all these bummers, I have something to look forward to.  A PERFECT CLASS SCHEDULE FOR FALL 2011! 

I only have to take 12 hours this semester.  This means better grades and more time for work and play.  Mondays and Wednesdays, I only have one class from 2:30-3:45.  Tuesdays and Thursdays, I go to class from 11-3:15.  NO CLASS FRIDAYS! No waking up early.  No staying 'til 5.  This is AWESOME.  

Not having class Friday is amazing for several reasons: 1) Columbia night life is most exciting on Thursday nights.  No more showing up to class on Friday half asleep and sometimes in last night's clothes. 2) I work at the Lake of the Ozarks on the weekends until September.  Now I can go down even earlier to make make money.  Hello, double Fridays and staying 'til Monday.  3) Even working in Columbia is going to be better.  Double Fridays mean working less weeknights to focus on school.  Also, most jobs in Columbia require you to work at least one lunch shift.  I now have 3 days where that's possible.  4) My boyfriend lives 9 hours away, and now I'll actually have time to go see him.  9 hours is a LONG drive that's just not possible on Saturday and Sunday.  Now,  I could potentially leave Thursday after class and not have to be back until Monday at 2. Score.  Finally, even when I'm not using all that free time for fun things, I have TONS of extra time for homework.  I am in classes I really like, classes that are important to me and my future career.  I will have more time than ever to dedicate myself and be that student who goes the extra mile.

Plenty of time for work, studying, play, football, travelling...What's not to love?  Senior year is looking to be the best.  As it should be.

That means Spring semester, I have 3 easy schmeasy classes and my capstone (final course to graduate), which will hopefully be working for Mojo ad, Mizzou's in-house ad agency.  I have all the required and suggested courses plus study abroad under my belt before I apply, so hopefully my odds are good.  

Keeping my chin up and crossing my fingers for the perfect senior year of college!

Hasta luego,

Amelia

Think. Feel. Receive.

Queja, queja, queja (complain, complain, complain)

WARNING: extremely negative post ahead!

So I know this is going to be the time of my life. Blah, blah, blah... At the halfway point, I've already started to see the way my thoughts and perceptions of Argentina have changed/ are changing.  There are a lot of great things Argentina has to offer: beautiful mountains, great steak, tasty wine, not to mention the benefits of a big city like Buenos Aires.

That said, everything in Argentina is SO MUCH HARDER! Nothing is ever as it seems, and most things don't even seem easy to start with.  I know this blog is for school and my Gilman scholarship too, but in addition to all the days that go into photo albums and best stories ever, so days really suck.  Big time.

Normally, hard is no big deal.  You just write it off as, "Well, we're in South America," or you do your best not to compare it with the United States.  After all, we're not in the United States, and it's only a waste of time to think about it because this is a completely different culture.  BUT, yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my friends death.  In a few weeks, it will be the anniversary of the death of two more.  I'm sleep deprived, broke, and homesick.  So just grant me a few minutes to do nothing but complain, and I promise I'll be back to my positive, look-on-the-bright-side self in no time.  In fact, writing this is already making me feel better.  That, or drinking mate and listening to good music.

Anyways, I'm REALLY FREAKING SICK of our house.  Just when I finally started to like my room, the landlord had to ruin everything.  I had put up pictures from home, colorful drawings I made with positive reminders, calendar, and cards Anna gave me.  Basically, things that make me happy and add color to an otherwise dull, boring, ugly, small room.  In order to put up those things, I took down the picture of the creepy guy who stared at me while I slept.  Oh yeah, and I used tape.  BIG DEAL!
So, when the maid came yesterday, the landlord freaked out and took them all down, while I wasn't home mind you, and put the picture of the creepy guy (see picture) back up! If you're gonna be pissed about having tape on the walls, could you not just leave my stuff up for the last month and take it down then? What difference does it make, except now I'm back to a room I HATE being in.

Not to mention, she was supposed to come on Thursday, not Tuesday.  I know it seems selfish to complain about having a maid, but I would rather clean my house myself than have to deal with all the bullsh** we have!  I'm automatically required to pay for this "service" set up by the MU program.  So basically I'm paying money to be more stressed that if I just cleaned myself.  I'm sick of them moving my stuff.  I know the landlord has control over her house, but if she weren't there meddling every week, she wouldn't have to worry about it 'til the end when it matters.  It's not just the pictures; my stuff is always moved around.  It's my room, thank you very much; I had my things how I wanted them.    They never come when they say they will, so we never know what to expect.  Like yesterday, we didn't have clean sheets or towels yet because we hadn't washed them since they were supposed to come Thursday.  No big deal.  I can change my sheets myself, but then what am I paying for?

On top of the maid (who by the way changes frequently when there's only supposed to be one) moving stuff around, only cleaning the rooms she feels like, and not coming when she says she's going to, the landlord is a whole other story.

We've had a roof leak, all our our glasses are cracked because they're so cheap, a pot broke, and the whole door situation (which she thinks we should pay for).  Just because your house is falling apart doesn't mean I should have to pay for it.  This is where it gets REALLY hard not to compare it to the United States.  Sure, there's crappy houses and crappy landlords, but I get to choose where I live.  Here, it was chosen for me.  By the way, it's surrounded by strip clubs and we are the only house in the group without a doorman.  It's really hard to argue with someone in a language you're still learning.  I can't understand what she says half the time, and I can't defend myself anyways or be firm in what I say.  That's where Carolina comes in, but then she has to talk to the housing agency who talks to the landlord. See how this all gets complicated very quickly?  If I have to pay for that lock, I'm taking it off the door when I leave.  I paid for it; it's mine.

I JUST WANT MY OWN HOUSE WITH MY OWN BEDROOM! Oh wait, I don't have that back home either.  Looking for housing at the Lake for the summer and Columbia for the fall is really difficult from a different continent.  At this point, I'd take my makeshift bedroom at my dad's house that I had for two weeks before I left as home.

This morning, I go to take a shower before work and there's no hot water even though no one in my house had taken a shower.  Great.  I just passed.  Hopefully, I don't smell too bad at work today.  On the rainy way to work, I got hit in the face with someone's wet umbrella before getting on the subway only to realize I forgot to bring my lunch.  Rrr.  Today, I'm gone from 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. I'm definitely going to need something to eat.  I'm trying really hard to not eat out or spend any unnecessary money.  I have money, but I'd rather spend it on cool weekend trips, and I realized it's all the little few dollars a day that's killing me.  I can afford it, but now when I want coffee, I think four more dollars towards a car when I get back home.

I had about a billion other things to complain about, but now I'm just drowning in my negativity and need to get back to work, so I guess that's plenty.

Even though I'm not going to Mendoza anymore, I am SO grateful for the FIVE DAY WEEKEND!!

Hasta luego,
Amelia

"One good thing about music, when it hits, you feel no pain." -Bob Marley

Smells/ Olores

Something inherently different about Buenos Aires is the presence of smells everywhere.  Obviously, everywhere has smells, not just Buenos Aires, but it has never been something that’s caught my attention in good ole Columbia, MO.  Maybe it’s just because it’s a big city, but it’s strangely one of the things I’ll remember and possibly miss the most. 

Not all of them of course.  There’s the frequent smell of trash that always seems to be sitting on the curb.  The subways and busses tend to be unpleasant experiences as well.  Cram 60 people onto a bus in 85 degree weather, and it doesn’t matter how much deodorant you put on that morning.  It’s not good.

Then there’s the intolerable stench of urine that surrounds the cemetery.  Maybe it’s the homeless people.  Maybe it’s the hundreds of cats that inhabit it.

Now that I think of it, it’s mainly just our street that smells the worst.  Apart from Vicente Lopez, the air is filled with the intoxicating scent of freshly baked bread or pastries.  As if I wasn’t a carb-o-holic already, the presence of bakeries on every block is a constant temptation urging me to come buy a medialuna (crescent roll). 

As frequent as the smell of yummy bread is the aroma of coffee.  I’m not a huge fan of the coffee here, except for Havanna or Starbucks which are too expensive, but the smell makes me happy nonetheless.  Like bakeries coffee shops are on every block, more like every other building.  Havanna is even more delicious to pass by because they make coffee AND chocolate.  It’s heaven to walk near. 

Another pleasant fragrance is that of flowers.  Parks are very common and are filled with flowers, along with the numerous flower shops that fill the streets.  I like to keep a vase on our kitchen table.

At work and at Plaza Francia, you can catch a whiff of incense.  I have seen hardly any candles, maybe none, but incense is fairly common.  At work, we burn vanilla and sandalwood, two of my all-time favorite smells.  It’s so relaxing.  The girls at work believe in using different smells for different moods or energies.  I guess it’s sort of like home-made aromatherapy.  Mmm. 

Finally, there’s the smell of the PEOPLE.  Sure, there’s a lot of sweaty people on the busses, but most everywhere else, the men always smell good.  Even when you’re just crossing the street you notice it, or sometimes you catch it in the elevator.  I have yet to smell bad cologne here!  It’s really strange when a really creepy man is trying to talk to you, but he just smells so darn good.  As for girls, I can’t say the same.  Despite the perfume ads everywhere, I have yet to smell girls wearing any. 

Maybe this was an odd post, but I’ve always learned that scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, so I think that these will be the smells that I will always remember about Buenos Aires!

Weather/ El Tiempo

They don't call it Buenos Aires for nothing.  In the summer, the ocean breeze provides refreshing relief from the smoldering sun.  When we arrived in January, the temperature steadily remained in the high 80's.  Excited to break out our tank tops and shorts in the middle of what should have been winter, we wore very little clothes.  Apart from the initial excitement, walking everywhere and sitting on crowded busses is HOT.  Apparently, porteñans are used to it because the usual look was tanks w/ jeans or leggings.  Jeans? In 85 degree weather? No thank you.

Now, as the season changes to fall, the "buenos aires" are starting to be a bit chilly.  Chilly being 65 degrees in the morning, 75 in the afternoon.  You wouldn't know that by looking at the general population who has already busted out furs and vests.  After a big storm Saturday, I'll admit Sunday was a little chilly. Most Americans would have still worn shorts, maybe opted for jeans or a light jacket.  Here, people were freaking out.  They were decked out in scarves and winter coats.

It's one thing to be accustomed to the summer heat, but that doesn't mean 70 is cold!! Who wears winter coats in the 70s?!?!  By the time we leave at the end of April, people are going to be wearing parkas and gloves when it hits the 60s. OH NO! That's freezing!!!

Familiar Faces - Anna's visit

This week, my roommate in Columbia, Anna, came to visit for her Spring Break.  It was a mix of fun and disaster.

Before she came, I'd loosely planned out an itinerary of things to do while she was here.  I wanted her to see the best of the best, have an amazing birthday week/ Spring Break, and most importantly, have lots to do during the day while I was at work.

Yes, I wanted her to go to the fun clubs and nice restaurants we'd rated highly, but it also made me really reflect on how I define Argentina.  What are the essentials to seeing Buenos Aires through the eyes of a porteñan.  This seemed to be mostly tourist sights before she came, but as the week went I long I realized it was foods, types of people, and everyday happenings.  Here's what it boiled down to:

Plaza de Mayo
El Caminito en La Boca
Soccer
San Telmo (the old)
Puerto Madero (the new)
Tango
Empanadas, Pizza, Pasta, Choripan
Coffee, oj, medialunas
Smoothies, ice cream
Steak and wine
Mate
Bus, Subway, WALKING!
Plaza Francia
Plaza Serrano
Getting hit on by boys
Protesters and demonstrations
Nightlife

These things to me represent Buenos Aires in a nutshell.  What I also realized is that when someone visits, you really seen how much you learned since you got here.  Anna, knowing absolutely no Spanish at all was sort of a measuring stick for how far I've come in the last two months.  We went to all the obvious tourist places and some not-so-obvious local places, but statues are only fun for so long.  Museums and parks are great, but we have those in the United States too.  Although Anna was thrilled to be here, her silent appreciation of the places we visited made me question my selections.  "Is this fun? This is what I think of when I think of Argentina; if it's not fun, I don't know what else to show you!" This was my personal overanalyzing as usual, but it really sunk in that our biggest accomplishments are day-to-day occurrences - the things that become habit.

I make it to work every day in a town of 11-13 MILLION people using a bus system with over 17 THOUSAND busses.  At work, I only speak Spanish where I complete assignments that I've been learning to do for 3 years in J-school.  I then make my way to class (also in Spanish).  What I'm most proud of was things that Anna couldn't see.  Yes, I still have to use a map and look places up, but I'm pretty darn good at navigating such a massive city.  Also, most of the fun and beauty of Argentina is found on our weekend trips which require traveling.  But it really is the mere act of being able to go to the bank and grocery store and have a normal daily routine here that makes me feel successful or appreciate Buenos Aires.

This week, routine went out the window.  I worked from home for one of my internships because my bosses are in South Africa and spent the week touring the city with Anna.

Monday, we went to La Boca to see El Caminito (see: La Boca blog).  There we saw tango and tried choripan, a traditional sandwich with grilled sausage.  It's usually the first course to a parilla because it's the first meat done or a usual snack.  From there, we walked to La Bombonera, the soccer stadium and the Museum of Boca Passion.  Boca Jr. is the biggest soccer team in Buenos Aires and one of the most popular in Argentina.  The whole neighborhood had graffiti shrines to the team and houses painted blue and yellow.

That night we went to El Alamo to celebrate Anna's birthday with peso tequila shots.  There ended up being no shots, but there was free beer for girls!  We met a great group of porteños who spoke English, so Anna and I didn't have to sit in a corner talking to ourselves all night.

Tuesday=day from hell

After a 12-hour day at work and class, I couldn't have been more relieved to go home and get ready for a steak dinner and fancy cocktails at some of our favorite places.  Unfortunately, when I got home, Anna was nearly in tears in the lobby of our apartment.  She recounted trying several times to unlock our door which caused so much noise the doorman came to see what was going on.  He began yelling at her in Spanish asking who she was and trying to explain that we weren't home.  What he didn't know was that Alyssa's boyfriend was inside.  He proceeded to call the landlord who also yelled at Anna saying that she shouldn't be there because she doesn't pay rent and that there's nothing that could be done until the next day.  I felt terrible, but assured her that everything was ok.  That is, until I couldn't get the door unlocked either.  Nor could Alyssa.  What. the. hell? We tried for a good 20 minutes before Kylie and other Anna got home.  They couldn't get in either.  We started to panic.  We rang the doorman's station over and over and got no response.  We thought maybe he locked it out of security because he didn't know my friend.  Who locks someone out of their own house then leaves?  Two hours and $400 later, we were finally inside.  An emergency, after-hours locksmith had to completely replace the lock, which he said was in bad condition.  I'm sure we will deal with being reimbursed for weeks.  We decided it was the perfect time to break out the birthday cake.

Wednesday, we thought we'd have another go at the parilla.  A perfect steak is an essential part to any Argentina visit.  Plus, it makes a perfect birthday dinner.  One by one, my study abroad group decided not to go, and it was down to Anna and I.  No worries; we're all we need to have fun.  We took a cab to Juanitos, where Kylie and I shared the VERY rare steak.  They were closed!! Since it was in Palermo, a trendy neighborhood filled with great restaurants, we walked around looking for a place close by.  There were none to be found, so we hopped in a cab to the direction of the bars we planned on going to later.  We ended up eating at a 50's American diner restaurant and sharing a cheeseburger.  Not quite the same as steak and wine.  We headed to bed early making plans to wake up early and tour the city before day-drinking for St. Patrick's day.  

Thursday, things began to look up.  We went to the Botanical Gardens which were stunning.  I felt so peaceful and energized in the presence of so much green.  It was divided into different sections of nationality or types of plants  There were French gardens, Asian gardens, cacti, evergreens, and more.  It was a fairly large park.  I can't wait to go back.  We spent a long time just sitting in every section enjoying the beauty.  It felt like a jungle or some remote getaway, definitely not a huge city.  If my backyard could look half as beautiful as that garden one day, I would be the happiest girl in the world.

Next, we took the subway to the famous Plaza de Mayo.  We hoped to see the Mothers of the Disappeared (Las Madres de los Desaparecidos), but they weren't marching.  The walk in a circle around the Plaza in silence wearing white scarves to mourn the loss of people who disappeared during the Dirty War in the 70s.  They wore white to signify that they weren't associated with any political party; they just wanted their family back.  It's an incredibly sad history that I recommend everyone read about.  I've always been interested in reading about wars, but because I live here and it's so recent, the Dirty War is really fascinating to me.  

Another stop in the Plaza de Mayo included El Catedral where lies the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  I hadn't heard of this until Anna told me she wanted to see it, but I think it's a thoughtful tribute.  The church was breathtaking.  There were several distinct chapels each filled with sculptures, paintings, and wood carvings.  There were also prayer groups in some of the chapels.  We tried not to disturb them.  Hymns/ chants played over the speakers as we passed through the beautiful halls.  It was most interesting for me to see the casket of Jose de San Martin, Argentina's liberator.  We learned about him in my Spanish class the first few weeks.  I truly am intrigued by Argentina's history and want to learn as much as possible.  Understanding the background of what we see in person is really satisfying.  Every day, I feel less and less like an ignorant American who only knows their own politics and history.

The afternoon ended by walking a whopping three miles home from the Plaza.  We had gone to Florida St., a huge shopping area for lunch, with intentions of passing through and taking the bus home.  However, there were so many protests in the streets that no busses could pass.  Protests are common.  They call them 'cortes' because they 'cut' the street.  There's always police supervision and people directing traffic to avoid a mess.  Thursday's protest was so big, it completely impeded traffic.  By the time we passed it to catch the bus further down, there were two more protests.  Hence, we walked the entire way home.  I'm a big fan of fresh air and walking, but after a whole day of walking already, we were exhausted.  Not to mention, we were walking through the middle of these mass demonstrations.  Luckily, they were all peaceful.  Some days, you can't say the same.  

We had a wonderful St. Patrick's day celebration at the Buenos Aires Pub Crawl, but that's a whole other post!

We finished the week off with a trip to El Tigre where we took a boat ride to a public beach resort.  By some miracle, we had the entire place to ourselves! Literally, not one other person was there.  We soaked up the sun and had some good girl talk before rushing back to buy some last-minute souvenirs and make it to the airport.  

In all honesty, it was a little stressful having a guest because I was constantly worried about her getting lost or having a good time (especially after the lockout incident), but I already miss her!  It was nice to see Buenos Aires with one of my best friends.  Having a sidekick is something I miss so much.  Sometimes I don't want to go out in a big group, but I don't want to go out by myself either.  It was really refreshing to have intimacy with someone.  I didn't think I would, but I broke down and cried at the airport as she was leaving until I got home.  Pathetic, right?  She's one of those people you consider yourself truly lucky to have in your life.  Growing from random roommates to someone I dearly love, she's the most thoughtful person I know.  We're so different, but it makes us grow and appreciate one another.  I don't know what I would have done these four months without talking to her.  

Montevideo (part 2)

In my last post about Montevideo, I left out two of the most important parts: futbol and an Uruguayan hospital!

Wednesday, we were extremely lucky to attend a local Uruguay soccer game against a local Ecuador team.  As much as I would LOVE to go to a Boca Jr. game in Buenos Aires, it's just not safe.  It's recommended to go with a guided group, and finding one has proven difficult.  It's a very aggressive team.  Uruguay in general is smaller and less aggressive than Argentina, plus it was a local game.  Regardless, it was crazy!  It was like college football on steroids.  Speaking of college football, Peñarol, Uruguay's team, was black and yellow.  We felt right at home amidst a sea of Mizzou colors.  Fifteen thousand fans roared chants, played on drum lines, and lit flares in their hands.  Enormous banners filled the stadium announcing one's undying passion for the team.  There were even fireworks.  Even though we got to the game at halftime, we managed to meet up with Anna and her boyfriend.  In my opinion, this was pretty much miraculous.  They were sitting on the side of Ecuador's goal and got to see up close Peñarol score on a corner kick.  The crowd went wild.  Yes, that means looking at the person on either side of you cheering and hugging and high-fiving, but at a South American soccer game, going wild means the entire stadium simultaneously jumps up and down making the crowd look like a giant ocean.  It was ridiculous.  I got the feeling the old man sitting next to me was pretty disappointed he was sitting next to a bunch of white girls because every time something important happened, he would turn to talk to me, realize who I was, then just give up.  I felt bad.  In my defense, I at least caught on to some of the cheers fast enough to chant along!

Win or lose, we had a feeling we should get out of the stadium a few minutes early.  Lose, and the crowd would be leaving in a fury; that's no good.  Once we knew they were going to win, the best case scenario still involved fifteen thousand people flooding out into the streets all at once.  We calmly exited a few minutes before the game was over making our way towards the main streets to catch a taxi.  Busses lined the streets for a mile or two just waiting to take all the crazed fans back home.  As we headed away from the chaos, it quickly caught up to us.  People were sprinting toward busses and taxis like they would be onto Noah's ark before the flood came. Being blessed with good luck once again, we found not one, but two taxis to get us home in a timely manner.

Afterward, we headed to a resto-bar recommended by someone at the hostel, The Manchester.  It was there that the intolerable itching began.  I had noticed the previous couple days the tiny, annoying, red bumps popping up on my skin, but there weren't that many bumps and numerous logical explanations.  Considering sunburn and sand irritation, I didn't think it was anything to worry about.  Until that night.  I was COVERED in itchy, painful bumps and could barely sit still.  As we recounted the possible explanations, I realized I had stupidly been using the body wash at the hostel.  Doesn't seem like a big deal right?  My brain completely registered "free" when I saw it, not "You have the most allergy-sensitive skin in the world. It's probably better to use your own."  I apparently had an allergic reaction to the glycerin in the soap and broke out in head-to-toe hives.  It took all I had not to cry.  After a night of restlessly tossing back and forth with no relief, I finally got out of bed at 5 a.m. to research available doctors in the area.  The only option was the Hospital Británnico emergency room.  My school insurance is supposed to cover all doctors visits while abroad, but of course, insurance is never that simple.  I had to pay almost US$300 upfront, and insurance will hopefully reimburse me.

The insurance site said my doctor would be bilingual, but he wasn't in yet.  I have never been so grateful for my level of Spanish or I guess being strategical enough to practice what I was going to say before I got there.  The visit started off by getting my temperature taken.  Normal enough.  Except it was using the stick thermometer under my armpit.  It brought back memories of being in the nurse's office in elementary school.  I described my conditions to four or five different nurses and/or doctors.  They gave me a couple ivs and told me to wait a while to make sure the steroids worked.  An hour later, nothing had changed.  They gave me another two doses, and that finally seemed to do the trick.  The itching was still almost unbearable, but the redness and swelling had gone down significantly.  A couple hours later, I walked out with a prescription for the same exact medicine I take every day for allergies.  This made no sense to me since I told them that's what I take daily, and it had done nothing to help.  It was even the same dose.  At least they gave me an anti-inflammatory steroid.  All in all, it felt like a huge waste of time and money.  I felt very prejudiced leaving because I couldn't help but to think that had I gone to a hospital in America, I would have walked out feeling great.  Who knows?  I spent the rest of the day relaxing in the hostel watching movies.  As people came and went, I felt so lazy spending the entire day (on vacation, mind you) inside doing nothing.  At least a couple of our hostel friends kept me company watching Into the Wild (traveling appropriate, right?) and agreed it was better not to be in the hot, sticky sun.

Even though it was nothing serious, I hope that was my first and last trip to a South American hospital.

Beaches/Playas

Since Montevideo is just another city and Carnival events were nowhere to be found, we spent Spring Break doing what any other American college student would do: head to the beaches.


Montevideo is located on the Rio del Plata and the Atlantic Ocean.  Rio del Plata is pretty much just a gulf between Argentina and Uruguay, but it's called a river since it's made of freshwater (agua dulce).  The first two days, we just wanted to spend as much time as possible on the beach instead of planning elaborate trips.  We took a bus from the hostel about 20 minutes to Playa Pocitos in still Montevideo.  It was not the prettiest beach in the world, but it was sand, water, and sun.  What else do you need?  Even with SPF 45 applied multiple times a day, I still managed to fry like bacon. Fortunately, thanks to obsessive bathing in aloe, I didn't peel.  However, I'm sure I'll have aged 50 years by the time I start school again in the fall with all the skin damage I'm accumulating.  To our surprise, there were few restaurants, bars, or an beach related businesses along the sand.  I couldn't decide if I missed it or appreciated that Uruguay didn't feel the need to exploit their beaches for capitalization.  In America, where there is a beach, there's someone selling sunscreen, lifejackets, alcohol, cameras, pretty much anything (and usually for an outrageous amount).

Since it was the official holiday of Carnival, there were really no people out.  Of the people that were there, we were definitely the whitest ones.  One man walked past taking pictures accompanied by the usual catcalls, only to return and take more pictures a few minutes later.  I really had no idea how to react.  Part of me was disgusted, part of me wanted to go about my business, and part of me wanted to pose just to surprise him.

Wednesday, we took an hour and a half bus ride to Piriápolis.  It had Spanish style buildings and houses with names.  The sand was whiter, the water was bluer, and the whole town just seemed more of what we had in mind.  The water was freezing but fun to play in nonetheless.  I saw about 30 dead jellyfish on the beach in 150 meter stretch.  I have never seen so many in one place!

We finished the day off at an ice cream buffet. MMM. Sadly, we had to leave pretty early because we went to the soccer game that night.  The trip affirmed what everyone else had already told us; you have to leave Montevideo to enjoy the beauty of Uruguay.  Piriápolis was a more tranquil town before Punto del Este, the famous touristy spring break beach.  Other recommended places were La Bata.

Hostels

Hostels are quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of South America.

For one reason, traveling is so much more affordable.  Our hostel in Córdoba cost US$10 a night and El Viajero in Montevideo, only US$20.  Think about the difference this saves in a week-long trip compared to an American hotel that you might be able to find for US$60 per night.  Hostels provide you with a light breakfast, bedding, and sometimes towels.  While they give you as much freedom as you desire, there are also planned events and tourist attractions should you need some suggestions.


El Viajero served Chivitos the first night, the national dish of Uruguay.  It's a steak sandwich loaded with toppings.  We passed, but ended up trying it at the restaurant we went to anyways.  Another night, they served a traditional asado, or barbeque.  In addition to having a home-cooked local meal prepared for you, it's a great way to socialize with other people staying in the hostel.  Almost everyone staying at El Viajero stayed in for the asado on the rooftop terrace.  People took turns playing Spanish songs on the guitar as we enjoyed steak and chorizo with a glass of wine and good conversation.

Sure, you have to share a tiny room with five other people, but that's the other reason I really enjoy hostels. Since we actually stayed for more than one night in Montevideo, we got to know the other people staying there and meet new roommates every day.  Instead of keeping to ourselves like usual, we had breakfast with the other travelers, went to dinner with them, drank with them, and built what I hope to be a lasting network of friends/acquaintances around the world.  Two people there were reunited after meeting in Lithuania three years ago!!! It takes the saying, "It's a small world," to a whole new level.

Why not ditch the "personal space" school of American thought for the energetic, adventurous joy of summer camp?  It would do us all some good to rediscover our childlike curiosity and openness to new experiences.  That is exactly what you find in the the personalities of people who stay in hostels.  Most are open to sharing their incredible journeys and equally excited to hear yours.  While our modestly adventurous trip nowhere near compares to those of our hostel counterparts, no one has made us feel beneath them for being part of a more structured, school setting.

In both hostels, we have been both the youngest and the only people in South America as part of a school trip.  It's really humbling and puts my life back into perspective.  Although we are incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to study abroad, it comes with some limitations.  We plan as many trips and activities on the weekends as we can, but work or class will always be waiting Monday morning.  That said, there's only so far you can travel from Buenos Aires in one weekend and have enough time there to make it worth the trip.  I have been living vicariously through the astounding trips of the people I've met.  Victor, a new friend, began his trip in Canada 18 months ago and drove his motorcycle, Olga, all the way down to South America where he's sightseeing and volunteering in medical clinics along the way.  I definitely recommend you check out his blog. It's incredibly impressive.  Our roommate Alana moved from her home in Australia to Europe to the United States to South America before she makes the same route back.

The girls plus CJ, Anna's bf, and Alana, our hostel roomie.

Most people only have a very loose outline at best of their next 6 months to a year.  To me, that thought is liberating and terrifying at the same time.  Coming from the mindset of a soon-to-be college graduate eager to climb the job ladder, it is unfathomable to take a year off of life and my professional aspirations to just travel.  Stay here a week, go there for a month. Living out of a backpack.  That's the other side of the spectrum that puts me back in my place.

Yes, I envy the free-spirited travels of our new friends, but it's really hard to complain about missing home when some of these people haven't seen "home" in years.  Also, as much as I would love my room in Columbia, I am dying to be back in my Buenos Aires bed at the end of our weekend trips.  I can't imagine sharing a room with five people and literally living out of a backpack for more than a month, let alone 18.  Most of these people aren't even in the same town long enough to do their laundry! It is refreshing to share stories that make you feel successful and humbled at the same time.  I always feel re-energized when I return to Buenos Aires.

Montevideo

Well, we've finally made it to the halfway point!  What a more perfect way to celebrate than Spring Break on the beach?!

Last Monday, we crossed the Rio del Plata by ferry and hopped on a bus to Montevideo, Uruguay.  Counting on South American time standards, we got to the ferry station with about five or ten minutes to spare.  Unfortunately, we completely forgot about having to go through immigrations because we were leaving Argentina.  This required checking bags and filling out paperwork which we didn't have time to do. Luckily, the security guards escorted us as we ran to the ferry, which I'm pretty sure was moving as we were getting on.  The door shut immediately behind us and we were off! With all these close calls, we're so lucky nothing bad has happened yet. (Knock on wood!)

The ferry looked like an airport with a shopping center and a restaurant inside.  Upstairs, there was a first class lounge; however, we happily sat downstairs with the average people.  Honestly, I slept the hour trip.

After the ferry docked in Colonia, we boarded a bus to Montevideo.  For the entire hour and a half trip, I had a pleasant conversation with Victor, the man sitting next to me. In Spanish!! We talked about everything: politics, actors, food, the Middle East, aliens, music, religion, you name it.  It's conversations like these that really make the trip worthwhile.  Once you get beyond the basic small talk of, "Where are you from?" "Do you like Argentina?" "What are you studying?" the real Spanish practice begins, and you can really get to know someone.  We politely disagreed on a lot of topics, which I loved.  It's been so long since I've had an intelligent conversation or debate with someone, let alone one in which we can disagree but still walk away respecting each other.  Even more than surprising myself with my capability of holding that long of a Spanish conversation, I was happy to hopefully leave a better impression of Americans with Victor.  He seemed to admire our country and was more curious than stereotypical, but he said he appreciated how well-read I was.  With such a wide range of topics covered, I am lucky I even knew a little about all of it and assured him it was mostly my personal opinion on the subject.  Good thing I'm a journalist who loves to read and keep up with the news!

The bus broke down about 20 minutes from the station, which was apparently too close for another bus to come, so we were told to get off and take taxis.  That's all good and dandy, except we had no Uruguayan money and had no idea what kind of taxis were safe.  Also, we were conveniently broken down in front of an exchange store.  Helpful yes, but it seemed like a scam.  We changed as little money as possible and tried to get in a cab as quickly as possible since our blue eyes and luggage screamed, "I'm a tourist; come mug me."  20 or 30 minutes later, we made it safe and sound to the hostel.

The most difficult part about Uruguay was the exchange rate.  It's 19.1 Uruguayan pesos to US$1 and who knows what to the Argentine peso.  What this amounts to is dinners listed as $200!!! Talk about sticker shock.  

One of our main goals of Montevideo was to partake in the annual Carnaval celebrations Monday and Tuesday which were national holidays in both Argentina and Uruguay.  While everyone back home was bragging about St. Louis or New Orleans Mardi Gras, I was ecstatic to see the parades, drum lines, and traditional African dancing in the streets of South America.  We knew it was no Brazil, but we still had high expectations.  When we checked into the hostel, we were informed that the biggest Carnaval festivities were during February and that absolutely NOTHING was going on that week.  In fact, the city was a ghost town.  No one was there, and hardly anything was open.  So much for crazy parties!

Overall, the feel of Montevideo was very similar to Buenos Aires, except the buildings were more run down.  The bus drivers were much nicer, even waiting for us to run after them instead of leaving us behind.  The best part of the busses was that they took bills instead of coins and even made change.  It was a good place to stay for a couple days, but like most everyone had warned us, it's much better to travel to the surrounding towns.

Shakira, Shakira!

We waited 7 hours in the suffocating crowds and sweltering sun to see Latin America's pop sweetheart, Shakira, who was born in Colombia.  She has claimed international fame, but although she is very popular in the United States, her songs sound best in their original Spanish version.  She is incredibly talented, speaks five languages, and even does philanthropy work.  Her musical style ranges from love ballads to rock and roll to club songs influenced by sounds of the Carribean, Middle East, and of course, Latin America.  She is the second most successful female latin artist of all time after Gloria Estefan, and her song "Waka, Waka" was chosen as the official song of the 2010 World Cup.  In other words, she's pretty freaking fantastic, and I got to see her live!!

The first opening act was an Argentine singer, Vicentico, whose songs are popular on the radio here.  I recognized a couple songs but didn't know any of the words.  The crowd surged forward, and we became increasingly claustrophobic.  If the opening act was already getting crazy, we couldn't imagine how Shakira was going to be.  Next up was Ziggy Marley.  He didn't receive nearly as much love as the first singer, but I loved it nonetheless.  Reggae is definitely my thing.

Before Shakira performed, she decided to be a diva and make us wait an HOUR after Ziggy Marley finished.  Really? We've been waiting since 2 o'clock!!  The paid seats were still really empty; I guess those people had the luxury of watching all the other shows or showing up just in time, because they had guaranteed seats.

Finally, the pop princess took the stage.  I imagined flying in from the ceiling, fireworks, or some sort of ridiculously large spectacle of an entrance.  Instead, she entered through the crowds shaking hands and giving kisses while singing a beautiful ballad.  I was so surprised, and yet it was perfect.  Everyone around us was in tears.  The calm adoration lasted only that song.  When the next song started, thousands of people were jumping up and down, including on my toes!!! The crowd was complete chaos.  People were continuously pushing forward trying to get closer.  At one point, someone said there was a snake on the ground, so everyone tried to get away.  My upper body was being pushed and only supported by the person in front of me, while my feet were still stuck back somewhere near where we were.  If the person in front of me fell, I was going down with them.  We could only see her on the big screens, but it was still worth every penny.  She played an absolutely perfect mix of slow, pop, more Hispanic sounding songs, and Indian sounding belly-dancing songs.  It was one of the best set lists I've heard at a concert.  She never ceased to entertain the crowd.  Her beautiful voice was stunning, and of course, she didn't fail to provide incredibly elastic hip-shaking that everyone has come to expect from Shakira.  Costume changes kept things interesting along with club mixes of familiar songs with accompanying light shows.  She even invited girls from the audience to get on stage with her and taught them her dance moves.  (I'm not sure pelvic gyrating is appropriate dancing for young girls, but they went crazy all the same.)  It was an amazing show.  Even though I only saw her on stage twice, I had the time in my life.  It was by far my most fun night in Buenos Aires.  Once she finished, we sand a bunch of local chants asking an encore.  She came back out for 3 more songs.  What a generous gal.  Except Yani, who came with us, said performers usually encore here and don't make the crowd wait nearly as long as in the U.S.

Leaving took quite some time as the thousands of fans poured into the streets of Buenos Aires, but eventually we caught a bus by our school Austral.  I have never been so physically exhausted, but I'm still on the emotional high from the concert even today.  I'm so grateful for that experience.

Cliff jumping and condors in Córdoba

Last weekend was one of the most fulfilling parts of the trip so far.  I am sure they will be some of my favorite memories of Argentina.

With 2 papers and our intern reports out of the way, we started the trip off by walking to the bus station at Retiro where we boarded our double-decker cama suite bus.  In a cama suite the comfy leather seats are wide enough to sit "Indian-style" and recline all the way back to lay a flat 180 degrees. It was a 10-hour trip so we booked an overnight trip hoping to sleep on the way and arrive refreshed and ready to hike.  Shortly after we started moving, they served us dinner which was topped off by a complementary shot of whiskey.  Yes, please! What better to help you fall asleep?

Why has this service not been invented in the States yet?  Tourism would have to increase greatly.  Surely everyone would would travel more if they didn't have to pay for gas, stop for bathroom breaks or snacks, or even pay attention to where they were driving.  You would never get lost, just go to sleep and wake up at your destination in the morning, all for about 100 bucks.  That's a great deal! I would have seen all of America by now if we had that.  It's strange to think the trip to Córdoba was the same as the flight from Houston to Buenos Aires, but so much more comfy.

We arrived around 7:30 in the morning and power-walked to the hostel since we had a hike booked for 8:30 a.m.  We cleaned up a little, ate some breakfast (medialunas, of course), and headed out. The trekking excursion was arranged through the hostel to be sure we had something planned for Saturday without spending all our our time in Cordoba researching.

Paula, our guide, drove us about 2 hours in her rugged Land Rover through the winding roads of the mountains to cross the Sierra Chicas before arriving in the Condor Gorge National Park (Parque Nacional Quebrada del Condorito) which is in the Sierra Grandes .  We hiked about 12 km (7.5 mi) stopping along the way to take pictures of the beautiful views and giant quartz deposits.  We also saw the diques (water reservoirs) of the towns below provided by the mountain water.  The main spectacle of the park in the Condor Gorge.  It's a huge gorge where the endangered condor, the world's largest flying bird, still resides.  Sadly, we didn't see any condors, but the view was still breathtaking.

That is, before I got stung by a bee!  I felt something on my neck so I swatted at it, not knowing it was a bee.  After stinging me, it remained stuck to me and I had to try not to scream like a little girl in front of everyone while someone tried to get it out.  Not a big deal, everyone gets stung by bees, but I'm allergic and didn't know how I would react.  I tried to tell the guides several times that I've never had problems breathing from stings, but they radioed the rangers for epipens and advised that we head back.  Oh well. Better safe than sorry.

When we got back to the hostel, we finally got our first good look of it.  It was my first hostel experience, and I admit I was as much nervous as a was excited.  We met people from New Zealand, England, Holland, and Isreal.  The common language was obviously English, which was kind of nice instead of working to speak Spanish all the time.  Kylie, Max, and I stayed in the Verde room with 3 other people.  Bunk beds, yay!  There was a living room where everyone hung out together when they weren't out doing something. I almost died when I saw the guitar leaning against the wall.  Even though it's been so long since I've played that there are few songs I still know by heart, I was thrilled to play around.  I haven't gotten to play guitar or piano since Christmas break, and it sure felt good.  We also met David from Holland who went out to dinner with us.  He invited us to a party after dinner but as we were all exhausted from hiking and anticipating another early morning, we opted to stay in and go to bed early.  Before returning to our rooms, Ya-el, one of our roommates taught us a Hebrew card game, Taki.  It's a lot like uno, and it was so fun to learn new cultures.

Sunday, the group split up and did separate things.  Kylie and I headed to La Cumbrecita, a small German town outside of Córdoba.  The couple in our room was going too, so we walked to the bus station together.  It was about 3 hours with many of the road still in the process of being carved out of the mountain.  We also got to see the diques we had seen from the top of the Sierras the day before.  It reminded me of the Lake of the Ozarks with houses and docks lining it's shores! We ended up spending the whole day with the couple from our hostel. It was great!  La Cumbrecita was a cozy pedestrian-only town nestled in the mountains.  It was very touristy in the sense that other South Americans came to visit.  The layout of the town was kind of a circle, and we accidently saw everything in the perfect order.  The first lake we saw had a small waterfall and we we're already content for our choice of activity for the day.  However, our main goal was to find La Olla (the Pot), a natural swimming hole.  A few minutes down the road we found it.  It was perfect.  There were large boulders to lay out in the sun, a swimming hole w/ a waterfall slide, and rocks perfect for jumping off of.  We spent a couple hours just hanging out at La Olla.

It was getting close to leaving time so we made our way to the last stop, La Cascada Grande (the Big Waterfall).  It was more of a hike than anything else we'd done that day.  We definitely climbed a LOT of stairs on a path completely surrounded by trees.  You couldn't even see the sun or hear the water anymore.  It was worth every step when we finally came to the opening.  It was a magnificent waterfall embedded in a lush, jungle-like wall of rocks, vines, and trees.  Once again, we were SO happy we'd chosen La Cumbrecita.

The way home was a little more stressful.  Our bus back to Buenos Aires from Córdoba left at 10:45 p.m. When we left La Cumbrecita, we allowed plenty of time, but of course, in South America you never know what's going to happen.  On the way from La Cumbrecita to Córdoba, you have to switch busses in another German village, Villa General Belgrano.  We stopped for ice cream and made it back to the bus in plenty of time when they wouldn't let us on.  Our tickets were for return, but they didn't have a specific time.  Oh well, we were still early.  We fixed our tickets and had to wait another 20 minutes for the next bus.  Except it was late. Alright, we're starting to cut it a little close.  Not yet freaking out, we boarded the bus and headed on our way.  Until the one-way highway traffic halted to a complete stop. For miles. It didn't look too bad, just a rush hour traffic jam or something until we got to a corner and could see the single file line all the way down the mountain.  Luckily we made it back to the bus station without 10 minutes to spare and said our goodbyes to James and Jemma, the couple spent the day with.  Dinner and bedtime in the cama suite; life was good.