Meatheads. Literally.

Sorry I haven't posted in awhile, things got crazy last week with midterms and I had my last one only yesterday. It was my hardest one, for my "Politica Exterior de Argentina" class, the one with other Argentines. But I think it went well, so now I can relax and enjoy my BIRTHDAY MARATHON WEEKEND. Roberta gets here on Friday morning and as I've been telling everyone estoy demasiado emocionada (I'm too excited). After we check into our apartment for the week, we are going to Bairexport for a birthday asado. Which brings me to this post's topic. 

Every Friday at my internship we engage in the most argentine of all argentine activities: we make an asado. It is arguably my favorite part of the week here. At first glance an asado, for the uniniated, appears to be your standard barbeque like we have at home. But it is oh so much more than that. Walk around the park in Puerto Madero any given Sunday and there are tons of families grilling, laughing, and just hanging out. Meat is a huge part of the Argentine ethos and asado is a reflection of this. It is a process. First there is the choosing of the meat. I went last week with my boss to the carneceria and let me tell you, it was a process. He asked questions like, "when did this meat come in?" and "from which farm?" I have never done that, or seen anyone else do that, in any American supermarket. Next there is the actual cooking of the meat. Usually it is a staffer named Emilio who does the cooking, and he starts the grill at about 12 to eat at 3. You see, an asado cannot be rushed. The grill has to get to the exact temperature and the meat has to cook slowly, to make it soft enough to eat in a sandwich. Then, finally there is the eating, my favorite part! Asados are a huge part of the argentine community fabric and my group at Bairexport is no exception. We take a long break from work and just hang out and joke around. I have learned a ton of Argentine slang from these hours, let me tell you. I don't do asados with my host family since the girls go with their dad on the weekends, so I am really grateful to have a Bairexport family with which to learn about the asado process.

I won't post again until after Roberta leaves, so try not to miss me too much. I'm sure that post will be a novel as I detail all of our adventures around this amazing city :)

Besos

N

Sonriendo :)

I am in a really good mood today, even though the smoke is still giving me breathing problems. My sister/soultwin is coming to visit me for my birthday in three weeks; and I am so excited I actually cannot stop talking about it, one of my best friends Leah finalized her plans to spend her summer here in Buenos Aires, and I had a really great weekend. 

We had so much fun dancing in Bariloche that on Thursday we decided to go to a boliche, one of the infamous all-night dance clubs. Chosen destination: Lost, a club that changes its music depending on day of the weekend and Thursdays are hip-hop night. Imagine my excitement. It was great to be able to actually sing along with some of the songs instead of just pretending I can understand the Spanish reggaeton or rap. I died a little inside when they played Kanye's "Touch the Sky." I stayed a lot longer than I had intended to (since I have interning Friday mornings at 10) but did not regret it at all. 

Friday, my boss mentioned that he was going on a wine tour that night. "Wine tour", you ask, "that sounds intriguing." Well, that is what I thought so I asked him to elaborate. Coordinated by a company called  Wine Tour Urbano vineyards set up shop in select boutiques over a three block stretch of Recoleta. You buy a glass and a wristband and can wander as long as you want. He sent me the information, and later that night off we went. Sailee and I met up with some of our German friends from orientation and learned more about the wonderful world of wine. We tried every type of red you can imagine, some aged in wood barrels, some in metal barrels, some organic, one mixed with white wine... it is amazing how a small difference like one more year of maturity changes the taste of a wine. Most of the wines were from the Mendoza region of Argentina, which had always been on my list of must-go places, and Friday just reinforced it. After the wine tour, and after dinner, we decided to go to another boliche and danced the night away (again).

Saturday my friend's parents (who are here visiting for three weeks) were throwing a party at their apartment so I decided to go for a little then call it an early night. It was really great to just chill and talk and hang out with them in a place not smoky or incredibly loud. The other exchange students here are having the same problems I am making friends with portenos, so we discussed why that is. I have one Argentine girl I can really call a "friend," and the others are more acquaintances. The education system here is set up so that from kindergarten on students are in the same sections all together, and private schools are not common. Hence, most of them have had the same friends since age 5. Once in university, most of them take a full course load and work full time on top of any extracurriculars they do so they really do not have much interest in expanding their circle of friends. This may sound awful, but made me feel better that I am not the only exchange student having this difficulty. After hanging out all night, I caught a cab back to Puerto Madero to sleep off this crazy Argentine weekend. 

Back to reading... and more smiling :)

Besos!

Nati

Fire in the Campo

Another news flash: recently fields of pastizales, a tall grass farmers plant to recuperate the land, caught fire. This would not exceptional except that the area burning is about three times the size of greater Buenos Aires, and the wind is carrying the smoke into the city. Highways have been closed for lack of visibility and a lot of businesses have closed as well. I bought eyedrops because I was starting to look like I have pinkeye. The situation has aggravated the aforementioned ongoing conflict in between the campo and the government. The strike has been called off but they are still in very tense talks, and the fire has not made the situation any better. The Government is blaming the agricultural leaders for setting the fire intentionally, and of course they are denying it. Fires like this apparently happen pretty frequently, but not on this large a scale. Also, since there is so much bad blood, the two parties are pointing fingers for getting the fire under control. So, right now there is a diplomatic impasse while the country burns and the people have trouble breathing.

Fun is My Middle Name: Bariloche

This past weekend we took our first GW program trip to Bariloche in the southern Lakes  District of Argentina. Located at the foothills of the Andes, the main draw here is the sightseeing in the summer and skiing in the winter. I was a little nervous about the cold, but I knew it was going to be a fun trip when a mix up with the paperwork gave me the middle name "Fun" on my boarding pass. How they got from "Ann" to "Fun" is beyond me but it turned out to be a lucky sign. After a 2 hour flight we got to Bariloche at around 12:30 on Thursday night, and promptly went to find the only restaurant still open. We definitely weren't in Buenos Aires anymore, since at 12:30 on a Thursday most restaurants are hitting their peak traffic. After a delicious (if provincial) meal we went back to the hotel and rested up for Friday.

Friday morning we woke up relatively early and headed out on a guided tour of the Circuito Chico, a circular trip around the city with stops at the tourist highlights. I was not a happy camper when our guide told us it was about 6 degrees Celsius below freezing, but then "Incomplete" by the Backstreet Boys came on the radio and it was fine. Our first stop was the Cerro Catedral, which we scaled in a chairlift. This is where words or pictures stop doing justice to the sheer natural beauty of Bariloche. We got to the top of the hill and in every direction were blue blue lakes and green green moutains. Behind the green mountains closer to us were snow capped ones, and our guide told us that in between the green mountains and the white ones were glaciers. We wandered around for about an hour taking pictures and generally wondering at the beauty. Eventually we went to the cafe to warm up, and took the chairlift back down the mountain. Our next stop was another scenic overlook with an outdoor market, where I took more pictures and played with a St. Bernard puppy one of the vendors had. The final must-do was a visit to a rosa mesquita taller (workshop). Aceite de rosa mesquita, or rose hip oil, is one of the main products of Bariloche and they turn it into everything. We were able to try face cream, lotion, soap, shower gel, bubble bath, "dulce" (jam), and tea. I bought some lotion since I could already tell the cold was doing a number on my skin. After the tour was over, we had the afternoon free to wander Bariloche. The city is adorable. The architecture is very heavily influenced by the Swiss and German immigrants who built it, and around every corner is another beautiful view of the lakes. We wandered around an outdoor fair for awhile, found another indoor fair, and went to one of the many chocolate shops (another main product of Bariloche) before my friends decided a nap was necessary. I was not tired yet, so I visited the Centro Civico, the main square. I was surprised to see a panuelo (handkerchief) of the Madres of the Plaza de Mayo painted on the ground, but I know I should not have been. Every province and every city was affected by the dictatorship, not just Buenos Aires. Back at the hotel, I napped, we had dinner and went out to take advantage of Bariloche nightlife.

The next day, Saturday, was horseback riding day. We were picked up at the hotel by a nice German man and drove about an hour to the middle of nowhere, where the stables were and where he lives with his family. I sat in the front and talked with him the whole way. Apparently in the winter when they get snowed in he goes into Bariloche for 5 or 6 days at a time to buy supplies, and then doesn't leave again for another few months. Wow. My horse was named Pinineo, and imagine my trepidation when I was given a stick to hit him with because "he likes to bite the other horses." It may seem like I've been doing a lot of horseback riding lately, and I have, but I have to say that my intense discomfort around horses has not changed. Riding a maladjusted horse was not what I had in mind. Once we got started riding however, I was able to forget my fear and cold for awhile to enjoy the scenery. About halfway into the two hour ride I was getting too cold to ignore it anymore so I asked our gaucho guide if he could teach me a gaucho song to distract myself. He could not, so I started a round of row row row your boat with my friend Laura. We sang that and other songs the rest of the way to the estancia, where we had a delicious asado lunch. I have had the luck to eat a couple of asados during my time here, and I think they deserve their own blog post, but basically it's barbeque. We got back on the horses, and luckily the afternoon was much warmer than the morning. We rode along a stream most of the way which was beautiful. I was almost sad to say good bye to Pinineo, who had only bit one horse the whole day. We all slept the whole way back to the hotel. After dinner we were so tired we almost didn't go out, and it took our tour coordinator Lea coming into the room and kicking us all out of bed to get us to leave. I am so glad she did, because the second night was definitely more fun than the first. Bariloche has its own Irish pub named Wilkenny's, and it played the best dance music I have heard in a really long time. Portenos love their techno, but I am not a fan. The DJ at Wilkenny's played the perfect mix of pop and reggaeton, and we just danced the night away. 

After sleeping in Sunday morning, we had lunch in the hotel and went out to take one more walk around Bariloche before leaving for the airport. I was sad to leave the natural beauty of the lake district, but every time I leave Buenos Aires I am more excited and happy to come back. I think it is because I know that one day I will leave for good, and I realize how lucky I am for now to be able to come home to this amazing city. 

Besos!

Nati

Me Enamora

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to live somewhere. Usually when one goes to a foreign country it's for a visit, not "to live." Study abroad is supposed to be just that: we'll come home saying we "lived" in such and such country for x amount of months. But at what length of time does study abroad become more than a visit or "adjustment period" or 24 hour debauchery and turn into a life? 

I finally feel like I am finally done adjusting or visiting or what have you. It took me longer than I thought it would, this being the beginning of my third month in Argentina. And I have to say, I have not always been deliriously happy here. But I have become familiar enough with the city, the transportation, the people and the customs to no longer feel like a total stranger. My classes are super interesting, as well as my internship; I have enough free time (for now) to fit cultural things in once in awhile, and I have a solid group of girls to go out with on the weekends. I even got asked for directions the other day by an Argentine, and was able to say something more than "lo siento, no  sé" (I'm sorry, I don't know). I'm living! And it feels great. Good thing there are four more months of life here to soak up and enjoy.

Lots and lots of love and besos.

Ultimas Noticias (Latest Headlines)

There has been a lot going on in Argentine politics this week, so I thought I'd write a little about it and offer my observations. 

First: The Kirchner administration, now in power, has advocated a much tougher stance on perpetrators of human rights abuses under the military junta. In the 30 years since its fall, different presidential administrations have gone back and forth on how to deal with the leadership of the junta. In addition to repealing a law that previously gave amnesty to anyone below a certain point on the chain of command, the Kirchners instated a "Day of Memory of Truth and Justice" holiday. The first one was this past Monday, the day after I returned from Chile. I decided to go walk around the Plaza de Mayo, where human rights groups were congregating. Though the day commemorates a tragedy I was surprised to find an almost festive atmosphere. People were grilling, dancing, shouting to each other. I was alone so only stayed long enough to walk around a bit, and then headed home. Over dinner, Nancy and I talked at length about the meaning of the day, and she had some really interesting observations. She noted that since the day came after the long weekend for Semana Santa, most people were treating it as a longer vacation and hence the gravity was lost. Christina Kirchner, the president of Argentina, hadn't even gone to the memorial service because she was still at her country house. The girls didn't have school and so were not being taught about WHY a day was necessary. I asked her if she thought, even though it was a holiday, a day was worthwhile because it makes the junta easier to talk about and brings things out in the open whereas if there were no memorial people would keep hiding it. Of course, she said, she just thought it was the wrong way to go about things. Turning a memorial for 30,000 people disappeared into an excuse to stay at the beach an extra day is insulting to their memory and not what such a memorial should be about. She also noted that, to instate a day 30 years later is very after the fact. The legacy of the junta is one of the sorest spots in Argentine society and divisions run deep. Although I agree with Nancy that such a holiday should be treated with more gravitas, something is better than nothing.

The second headline I wanted to talk about is the over-two-week farmers' strike that ended yesterday. In order to reduce the federal deficit caused by inflation, the Kirchner administration raised export tax on agricultural goods to 40% from 27%. After operating costs and allowing for inflation, that leaves almost nothing for the producer. Agriculture is Argentina's biggest industry, and this was the first time in history that all industries: meat, dairy, fruits and vegetables; and both management and workers, were completely in agreement and all stopped production. Many times in the past the workers have struck against management, or the dairy industry will have some problems, but never all at once. Fruit started going bad and some butchers ran out of meat (which, in a country of meat eaters, is a HUGE deal). Christina ignored them for about 10 days before giving an inflammatory speech and used the phrase "I will not give in to extortion." That just made things worse. Then, on Thursday, she adopted a more conciliatory tone in another speech, tensions lifted slightly, and negotiations began yesterday. Never before had I seen such an illustration of another division in Argentine society: porteños  (people who live in BsAs) and campesinos (people who live in the provinces and work on farms). The unfairness of the tax aside, the reaction of the Kirchner government to the concerns of their people was appalling. I only hope that with the negotiations a fairer deal can be found. 

Chile: the $35,000 peso manzana.

Last week we had a super long weekend for Easter, and my friends and I decided to take advantage of the time off and go to Chile. My grandmother spent years in Chile when she was younger, so it was high on my list of places to visit. Finding a convenient flight was difficult since it was such short notice, but we finally all found ones on Tuesday evening, meaning the only day of class I missed was Wednesday. Since our flight got into Santiago pretty late at night, the plan was to spend the night in Santiago before heading to Valparaiso. We would stay there for 2 nights and go back to Santiago for 2 nights, returning to Buenos Aires on Sunday.

 

Getting to the airport and onto our flight on Tuesday went off without a hitch, but we were glad to get to our hostel in Santiago. After a quick meal of the Chilean classic “pan as palta” which is a hot dog with guacamole on top, we went back to the hostel and got ready for out Chilean journey on Wednesday. We had plans to take the micro bus but didn’t know where the bus terminal in Santiago was or how often the buses left. Luckily, hostel personnel are always really friendly and knowledgeable about their area, and the owner was more than willing to help us. The bus terminal was only a quick metro ride away, and we got there quickly, but buying a bus ticket was a different story. The Santiago bus terminal is under construction, and we were sent to about three different counters before we found the right one. Then, after showing the woman the address of the hostel we wanted to go to, she told us that it wasn’t really in Valparaiso it was about an hour further out. Fine, as long as it was still on the beach. We bought round trip tickets and headed out. I’m going to rave again about micros because they are just that cool. Clean, comfortable, you usually get at least a coffee if not food, and my favorite part is that you can easily watch the world pass by. The Chilean landscape could not be more diferent than Argentina: it is mountainous and dry whereas Argentina is flat and green, but both are beautiful and unique. The trip to “Playa Ritoque” took about three hours. After taking a taxi to the hostel, I was speechless. The place was incredibly beautiful and completely undeveloped save for a few houses, our hostel and a restaurant set a little ways off the beach. We learned later that it is basically the only undeveloped coast in Chile, due to a copper plant’s railroad that goes basically right next to the beach. No one wants a beach house in which you have to cross railroad tracks to get to the beach, and good thing. After exploring a little and jumping up and down at our good luck, we spent the afternoon laying out on the dunes. In the evening we went into the town and bought amazing Chilean produce and pasta for dinner, and cooked for ourselves. Our hippie hostel owner, Ian, was an expatriate who has been living in Chile since 2002 because he disagrees with “everything the United States has come to stand for” and he “doesn’t want any part of it”. Needless to say, he was a little inflammatory but extremely interesting to talk to.  He made us a bonfire the first night and we all sat around drinking pisco sours, the traditional Chilean cocktail, and talking politics.

 The next day we woke up relatively early and headed to the beach because we had made a horseback riding date at 3 in the afternoon. I was nervous because I have a deep seated fear of horses and hadn’t ridden one in over a decade. But, when in Rome… anyway. It was well worth my initial trepidation because the landscape was even more incredible from up high on horseback. The entire place was paradise. Some of my friends wanted to trot/gallop/generally go faster than me so I held back and made friends with our tour guide, a retired rugby player who threw out his back and now rides horses for a living (counterintuitive, no?) It was fun to talk with him, hear more about his rugby team, the Playa Ritoque community, and hear their plans for Easter. The whole community gets in on a huge Easter egg hunt. We traversed up and over dunes, across the beach and back for about three hours before heading back to the hostel. That night they opened the beach restaurant and we had a little “festichola.” It was good to meet some native Chileans and just hang out.

The next morning we got up early to head out. The plan was to take a bus to Valparaiso, and spend a few hours there sightseeing before traveling the rest of the way to Santiago. The first half of the plan went off without a hitch, but we hadn’t been in Valparaiso for more than an hour before my friend’s camera was stolen out of her hand. A street kid literally walked up, snatched it as she was taking a picture, and went running. Apparently we had wandered into a bad neighborhood, and with all our luggage we were easy targets. We spent the rest of our time in Valparaiso making a police report, and then got to Santiago as fast as we could. When we got to the hostel we crashed. The next day, after getting a map and directions from the desk guy at the hostel, we set off sightseeing in Santiago. It is beautiful but different than Buenos Aires. First, the geography: Santiago is mountainy and hilly while Buenos Aires is completely flat. The architecture as well is a lot more modern and concrete-based, while porteños love their flourishes and details and marble. We visited Saint Lucia’s Hill, the first settlement of Santiago, the Plaza de Armas (the Chilean version of the Plaza de Mayo) and Saint Christopher’s Hill. Saint Christophers Hill is so large there is a gondola that you take to get to the top, where there is a playground and a huge statue of the Virgin Mary. We walked around and waited for the sunset, taking lots of pictures and admiring the city. The next day some of my friends flights were early but four of us didn’t leave until 9 so we took advantage of our extra time to visit Pablo Neruda’s house. For non Latin American literature buffs, he is a famous Chilean poet who won the Nobel Prize for Literature and is one of my favorite authors. His house in Santiago served as a clandestine meeting point for him and his third wife while he was still married to his second wife. The place was incredible. He served as a foreign ambassador for Chile for many years so there were trinkets from all over the world. He loved the sea and desined the house to feel like a boat, so the dining room was long and narrow with a curved ceiling, and all the staircases were spiral.  I was so glad to have the opportunity to learn more about this fascinating poet. I posted one of his most famous poems, and its translation, below. After the house tour, since it was Easter, we treated ourselves to a big Easter lunch before heading to the airport and back to Buenos Aires. It was bittersweet to leave Chile because it had been such an amazing experience but every time I leave Buenos Aires coming back becomes more gratifying. I had missed by Buenos Aires querido.

Poem 20

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. 

Escribir, por ejemplo: «La noche está estrellada, 
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.» 

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. 

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. 
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso. 

En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos. 
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito. 

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería. 
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos. 

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. 
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido. 

Oír la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella. 
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío. 

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla. 
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo. 

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos. 
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. 

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca. 
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo. 

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles. 
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos. 

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise. 
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído. 

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos. 
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos. 

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. 
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido. 

Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos, 
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. 

Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa, 
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

Poem 20

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, "The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance."

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms,
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer,
and these the last verses that I write for her.