Welcome to Buenos Aires

I live in a small apartment with a 60 year old Jewish woman. It is interesting. We get along very well, she loves to travel and to cook, (we might be soul mates) and she has taught me to love beets. I am not sure what more you could ask for from a home- stay. She speaks very well in English but is so encouraging in my efforts to learn Spanish that she occasionally pretends not to understand me until I speak to her in my childish Spanish. When I finally manage to get it out she giggles and says `` why of course— you speak beautifully!” Another one of her favourite sayings is “A language is a language,” which she says when she can tell that I am getting frustrated with Spanish. She, along with most Argentineans, is laid back but has a sense of humour that can only be described as youthful. She laughs often, especially when her boyfriend Oswaldo (who is sixty-five) comes to stay on the weekends. She is a formidable woman. Something that I enjoy about most Argentines is that they possess a certain amount of grace and style that can only come from not taking oneself too seriously. We could all learn from them.

I have also come to appreciate many other aspects of Argentinean culture. Being on time here is being less than an hour late—and arriving looking fabulous with some carbonated water in one hand and a cigarillo in the other. Clubs and bars open around 11, but not one arrives until at least 12:30 and they stay open until 7 in the morning. Breakfast usually consists of some Argentinean caramel (dulce leche) on toast and a mate. Lenore, my host mother, is introducing me to all kinds of traditional Argentinean foods but it is her boyfriend Oswaldo who makes the best empanadas I have tasted so far. Thankfully, we share distaste for the stranger delicacies of Argentina, such as bull testicles and intestines.

Buenos Aires has all the adventure and entertainment of a big city, but it still friendly. I think that this is a token aspect of Latin America, the people are incredibly friendly—often too much so. On my way to school today I was whistled at by men between the ages of fourteen and eighty. While it is rather disconcerting, Leonore has offered me many solutions. I told her that I could not wear shorts anymore because people knew that I was foreign and it caught their attention. She responded by sharply telling me that my skin and hair quickly gave that away anyways and that it would be far more productive for me to just hurry up and find a boyfriend—and walk with him everywhere I presume. Her frankness is delightful. Leonore has made a list for me of all the places in Buenos Aires that I must visit. The first being a Tango club that is, apparently, “to die for.” Thank goodness for tango classes and a competent tango partner (Oliver).

At school we spend three hours a day in Spanish class and another three hours in Argetinean cinema, history, or tango class. Our days are full but satisfying.

Though we are slowly emerging from the “honeymoon” phase of our trip, I have a feeling I am going to like married life.

Obrigada

Having survived the week on a diet of mostly shrimp and beer, I am excited for my travels to continue on to Buenos Aires to new adventures and more food groups (although from what I here it will be mostly steak). However, as my last day in Brazil draws to a close, and my sunburn finally begins to fade into a more desirable golden colour, I am already planning my next trip back here. After day two, when Mariana´s mother finally managed to tame my wild hair, Brazil suddenly became much more appealing. On monday we packed the car so full that I was sure it was going to burst. We headed off towards the beach at la Riviera, one of the most beautiful places that I have ever seen. On the way we passed through a protected area of the rainforest and I was so distracted that I could barely speak, let along take any pictures. While it was incredible, the major highway that we took through it left me utterly confused. Even stranger was the giant oil refinery located just on the border of the protected area. Mariana´s father told us that the surrounding area was the most polluted in all of Brazil-- so much for protecting the rainforest. How hypocritical. I have learned though, that while hypocrisy is irritating, it is not evil. I think that the reason that I am getting better and better at accepting this is because along with it comes the realization of how much easier it is to find flaws in things that aren´t yours-- even countries. I think that this is one of the most valuable lessons that I have learned from travelling.
In order to experience a new culture, I have also found that you often have to be hypocritical yourself. I am sure that all of the shrimp that I was eating was farmed in a less than sustainable manner, and I know that Guarana, the staple drink of Brazilians, is distributed by coca-cola (the height of all evil) but I am not sure how you can avoid this things and still experience Brazil. Or if you did you certianly wouldn´t enjoy it as much. It must be a question of values, to me it seems very important to be able to sacrifice some of your preferences when going abroad in order to not just be a tourist, but to really experience life in another culture. The biggest struggle that I find is knowing when to draw the line-- when to stop doing something because it is polite. My line came with the hords of teenage brazilian boys who love foreign girls almost as much as they love kissing-- getting the two together is apparently the jackpot. The days of practice before new years proved helpful because, I assure you, that at four in the morning on a beach full of young people who are vaguely drunk on very cheap wine, fighting off a brazilian boy is no easy endeavor.
By the time new years rolled around I was well equipped with portugese swear words and insults amd was able to enjoy the celebrations without distraction. It was fantastic! It seemed as though the whole of the city was there. Everyone dressed in white and then went down to the beach to wait for the clock to strike twelve. When it finally did, fireworks burst into the air and we all jumped over seven waves, making a wish with each for something that we hoped would happen in the new year. I couldn´t think of seven things to wish for so for the last four waves I just yelled OBRIGADA! as loud as a could to ensure that everyone could tell how thankful (and drunk... though that wasn´t the original goal) I really was.