So instead of writing another essay, here's a little guide to the Buenos Aires dialect, called Lunfardo (they technically speak Castellano, which is technically Spanish). Sorry some of this is rude, but I picked up these phrases and words by just listening and observing and asking a lot of questions (thanks to coco, wake, greg, and ñaño for their help)
Some vocabulary/expressions you won't learn in Spanish 209:
estar en pedo-to be drunk
pajero-jerk-off
cara de culo-literally, ass face, but it means to have a sour expression
Bolitas-offensive term for Bolivians
Paraguas-offensive term for Paraguayans
asqueroso-creepy; disgusting
me importa un carajo-I don't give a shit
boludo-idiot; also used among friends as a term of endearment ("che, boludo")
cojer-in other Spanish speaking countries, this word means to take, but in Argentina, it's definitely to fuck
Andate a la mierda-go to hell/go fuck yourself
Dejame a romper las bollas-get off my nuts
nene/nena-niño/niña
pancho-hot dog
frutilla-strawberry (fresa)
colectivo/bondi-bus
subte-subway
choclo-corn
anana-pineapple (piña)
boliche-club
birra-beer (cerveza)
shopping-centro comercial
ser buena onda-to be nice, give out good vibes
tragos-mixed drinks
gaseosa-a soft drink
plata-money
vivir en un nube de pedo-kind of like "you have your head in the clouds," but literally means "to live in a cloud of fart"
amigovio-"boy" friend (guy who you hook up with)
dar a luz-give birth
malparida: cursed birth
mandar fruta-bullshitting
Special skater/kid lingo:
porro-joint (of weed)
estar re quesudo-to be a jerk-off
che-kind of like starting a sentence with dude, to get someone's attention
parcero/parce-a friend, or a dude (this word comes from Colombia)
costilla-literally, "my rib," they use it to describe a very close friend
marico-faggot, but also used like boludo, an affectionate term for your friends
marrones-gay guys
tarado-retard
galan-player
shahor-I think it comes from a Jewish expression and means "outsider"
Me da paja-it's a pain in my ass
So these are just some of the expressions that I've picked up since living in Buenos Aires and hanging out with a bunch of skater dudes. (sorry Mom, but I did leave out some of the worse stuff)
Chau! (they say "ciao" instead of adios)
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Latin America is for Lovers?
I'm finally going to have to admit to myself, despite my belief that the stereotypical Latin male is/was a thing of the past, that machismo does indeed exist in Argentinean society. Of course, not all men here are patriarchal male chauvinist pigs blah blah blah. And what's more, many women find that attitude attractive. But I've found that there are subtle ways that men treat women that really don't jive with me. I once got yelled at by a Porteno guy (the whole rest of the night) for apparently "flirting" with another guy (it's a long story). Ugh the point is I was made to feel inferior for just being the way I am. Lame. Anyway, so there's just an example of my own culture shock when it comes to dealing with men here.
Since I've been posting really freaking long essays lately, I'm going to break down the dynamics of gender relations here in BsAs (from my observations)
-guys from other countries in Latin America (ahem, Venezuela) claim that Porteños are not your stereotypical "Latin Lovers" for these reasons:
-they're direct and up front about what they want (ie, if they see a hot girl in a club they're not going to waste time trying to "romance" her, they're just going to be like, "hey, come home with me"
-they don't really romance girls at all...they either pick up chicks at clubs (and go to sleezy hotels) or have sullen girlfriends that they seem to fight with/passionately make out with all the time
-these same Venezuelans claimed that Porteña girls go crazy over them because they perceive them to be the real so-called Latin lovers, because guys from BsAs are just, like, "so European" about it
I was NOT having it. Get lost, boludo.
-the Public Displays of Affection here are out of control-everywhere you look someone is sucking face...teenagers, couples on dates, old people...Anyway, at first it takes some getting used to, because hard-core making out in public back in the States is pretty much frowned upon (read, trashy). Maybe it's a subconscious act of liberation from years of sexually repressed society, or the fact that most young people still live with their parents and they don't have anywhere else to do it, or, they just want a little sugar/like to express their love all the time. Ok, I get that, no problem. But on the colectivo? Or in the sweaty subway during rush hour? Ew. Stop.
-Speaking of ew, men here definitely make it no secret if they think you're attractive. I'm not talking about just in clubs: on the streets, in the subte's, they'll make sure you know you're cute. But the thing is, when they whistle or say things like "preciosa!" or "que linda" or even "I'm going to think about you the rest of the day" (haha true story), they really mean no harm. Graciela says we should take it as a compliment. Uh...thanks? But she also said if they say offensive things, like call you a "puta" or something, then you should just ignore them and resist the urge to tell them to "andate a la mierda" (ie go fuck yourself, ahem, sorry mom). Speaking back will only encourage them. So I guess a little compliment from some rando on the street is nice every now and then, but sometimes I can't help but feel objectified (not that I get a lot of dudes trying to holla, jeez, but, many of my friends get lots of unwanted attention)
-ok, last one. This one's a little heavy: the A-word. Surprisingly, abortion's illegal here. Actually, maybe not so surprisingly. It is after all, a Catholic country. Still, with all the supposed sexual/social liberation I'm a little curious as to why Argentina hasn't lead the way in women's rights in Latin America. Looking around the streets on a typical day, there seem to be an abnormal amount of young mothers (and I mean young, early 20's) with a couple of kids in tow. Young dads too. While that's cute and all, Graciela explained to me that people aren't very smart about their sexuality (using birth control, etc) and so these young women end up getting pregnant before they've finished school, gotten jobs, or even moved out of their parents'. So the young couples could end up in a lot of trouble with a lot of mouths to feed before they're ready. Still, the babies here are absolutely adorable and most of these young couples look really happy. Sweet. But, I still wondered how girls in more unfortunate situations handled their unplanned pregnancy. I asked my friend Jonathan what they did, and he rolled his eyes and attempted to explain that they would have to go to a "witch" to obtain an illegal abortion, and that many girls end up in the hospital or even die because of unsafe and unsanitary conditions, and if they go to a hospital they face legal prosecution. Wtf???? First of all, what exactly did he mean by witch? (turns out he couldn't think of a better translation and just said that to mean old scary lady, like a mid-wife or something). Second of all, not only do these girls obtain illegal and unsafe abortions, they risk going to jail for seeking legitimate medical help afterward, and so many don't even go, and end up dying or seriously messing up their bodies. Sad. So I could rant about this for awhile, but I guess I shouldn't impose my views of women's rights on other cultures...
Anyway, so that's enough about that. Somehow though, my romantic notions of the "Latin Lover" are shattered. But I don't need to be treated like a princess; being treated like an equal is just fine, thanks.
*disclaimer: really though, not all guys are like that here, I've met some really great ones who do respect women
*sorry this was a long post
Since I've been posting really freaking long essays lately, I'm going to break down the dynamics of gender relations here in BsAs (from my observations)
-guys from other countries in Latin America (ahem, Venezuela) claim that Porteños are not your stereotypical "Latin Lovers" for these reasons:
-they're direct and up front about what they want (ie, if they see a hot girl in a club they're not going to waste time trying to "romance" her, they're just going to be like, "hey, come home with me"
-they don't really romance girls at all...they either pick up chicks at clubs (and go to sleezy hotels) or have sullen girlfriends that they seem to fight with/passionately make out with all the time
-these same Venezuelans claimed that Porteña girls go crazy over them because they perceive them to be the real so-called Latin lovers, because guys from BsAs are just, like, "so European" about it
I was NOT having it. Get lost, boludo.
-the Public Displays of Affection here are out of control-everywhere you look someone is sucking face...teenagers, couples on dates, old people...Anyway, at first it takes some getting used to, because hard-core making out in public back in the States is pretty much frowned upon (read, trashy). Maybe it's a subconscious act of liberation from years of sexually repressed society, or the fact that most young people still live with their parents and they don't have anywhere else to do it, or, they just want a little sugar/like to express their love all the time. Ok, I get that, no problem. But on the colectivo? Or in the sweaty subway during rush hour? Ew. Stop.
-Speaking of ew, men here definitely make it no secret if they think you're attractive. I'm not talking about just in clubs: on the streets, in the subte's, they'll make sure you know you're cute. But the thing is, when they whistle or say things like "preciosa!" or "que linda" or even "I'm going to think about you the rest of the day" (haha true story), they really mean no harm. Graciela says we should take it as a compliment. Uh...thanks? But she also said if they say offensive things, like call you a "puta" or something, then you should just ignore them and resist the urge to tell them to "andate a la mierda" (ie go fuck yourself, ahem, sorry mom). Speaking back will only encourage them. So I guess a little compliment from some rando on the street is nice every now and then, but sometimes I can't help but feel objectified (not that I get a lot of dudes trying to holla, jeez, but, many of my friends get lots of unwanted attention)
-ok, last one. This one's a little heavy: the A-word. Surprisingly, abortion's illegal here. Actually, maybe not so surprisingly. It is after all, a Catholic country. Still, with all the supposed sexual/social liberation I'm a little curious as to why Argentina hasn't lead the way in women's rights in Latin America. Looking around the streets on a typical day, there seem to be an abnormal amount of young mothers (and I mean young, early 20's) with a couple of kids in tow. Young dads too. While that's cute and all, Graciela explained to me that people aren't very smart about their sexuality (using birth control, etc) and so these young women end up getting pregnant before they've finished school, gotten jobs, or even moved out of their parents'. So the young couples could end up in a lot of trouble with a lot of mouths to feed before they're ready. Still, the babies here are absolutely adorable and most of these young couples look really happy. Sweet. But, I still wondered how girls in more unfortunate situations handled their unplanned pregnancy. I asked my friend Jonathan what they did, and he rolled his eyes and attempted to explain that they would have to go to a "witch" to obtain an illegal abortion, and that many girls end up in the hospital or even die because of unsafe and unsanitary conditions, and if they go to a hospital they face legal prosecution. Wtf???? First of all, what exactly did he mean by witch? (turns out he couldn't think of a better translation and just said that to mean old scary lady, like a mid-wife or something). Second of all, not only do these girls obtain illegal and unsafe abortions, they risk going to jail for seeking legitimate medical help afterward, and so many don't even go, and end up dying or seriously messing up their bodies. Sad. So I could rant about this for awhile, but I guess I shouldn't impose my views of women's rights on other cultures...
Anyway, so that's enough about that. Somehow though, my romantic notions of the "Latin Lover" are shattered. But I don't need to be treated like a princess; being treated like an equal is just fine, thanks.
*disclaimer: really though, not all guys are like that here, I've met some really great ones who do respect women
*sorry this was a long post
A mitad de camino
"You hear that sound? You're gonna remember that for the rest of your life. It's the song of the knife-sharpener."
-Jonathan
So I've been here for about 2 1/2 months, which means that in exactly 2 1/2 months, I'll be leaving Buenos Aires, and, hundreds of pesos, endless new friends, way too many empanadas, and a handful of weekends of all-night hedonism later, I'm still not sure that I've come to know Buenos Aires as well as I thought I would. Borges once wrote, "And the city now, is like a map of my humiliations and failures." My feels an affinity for these words in the sound of my boots on the pavement at night, the piles of empty sugar packets next to yet another cup of coffee at el Potosi, my face reflecting in the window of the 141 during my morning bus ride to the villas. Most of my time here is spent alone: eating breakfast, walking, or sitting in my favorite cafe doing homework and listening to tapes. Sometimes I prefer to be alone in a city, weaving seamlessly in and out of the endless flow of humanity, when I can really feel that sense that Buenos Aires is as "eternal as water and air." Other times, when I'm staring out my window at night looking out at the city, I feel so overwhelmed by it's vastness, this living, breathing energy that I'm not a part of. What are these millions of people doing right now, at this moment, while I'm sipping a cafe con leche in a tiny cafe on a quiet street corner in the north part of the city? All the people I've met, or have yet to meet, or will never meet, are going about their lives, part of the endless flow of actions and words and change. It's hard to say what "experiencing" Buenos Aires really is--clubbing 'til dawn or visiting monuments? Dining at parillas or seeing a tango show or buying leather knick-knacks? Maybe so, and maybe I've missed these things in search of something else, that human contact that I'm starting to miss. I think the closest thing to the inside was my friendship with a half-French half-Porteño vago who promised he'd show me the "real Buenos Aires." But after two months of dancing and eating and drinking and sleeping in parks and wandering aimlessly and talking to people, I wonder can I really say that I know another side to the city? Could I ever? And I'm left with strange, somewhat saddening memories of awkward silences, falling leaves, streets, sunshine and rooftops and early mornings and sitting in doorways and the song of the knife sharpener. No fairy tale there, just reality. And there you go, maybe that's it: just the reality of living here, of having nothing to do, of wasting time and smoking too many cigarettes, and saying and doing all the wrong things, and losing things in translation, that constitutes the real Buenos Aires. "Welcome to South America honey," he always says to me, when I ask yet another question about why things are the way they are here. And I think now I can accept that as an answer, because maybe that's his way of saying that he can't explain it either.
-Jonathan
So I've been here for about 2 1/2 months, which means that in exactly 2 1/2 months, I'll be leaving Buenos Aires, and, hundreds of pesos, endless new friends, way too many empanadas, and a handful of weekends of all-night hedonism later, I'm still not sure that I've come to know Buenos Aires as well as I thought I would. Borges once wrote, "And the city now, is like a map of my humiliations and failures." My feels an affinity for these words in the sound of my boots on the pavement at night, the piles of empty sugar packets next to yet another cup of coffee at el Potosi, my face reflecting in the window of the 141 during my morning bus ride to the villas. Most of my time here is spent alone: eating breakfast, walking, or sitting in my favorite cafe doing homework and listening to tapes. Sometimes I prefer to be alone in a city, weaving seamlessly in and out of the endless flow of humanity, when I can really feel that sense that Buenos Aires is as "eternal as water and air." Other times, when I'm staring out my window at night looking out at the city, I feel so overwhelmed by it's vastness, this living, breathing energy that I'm not a part of. What are these millions of people doing right now, at this moment, while I'm sipping a cafe con leche in a tiny cafe on a quiet street corner in the north part of the city? All the people I've met, or have yet to meet, or will never meet, are going about their lives, part of the endless flow of actions and words and change. It's hard to say what "experiencing" Buenos Aires really is--clubbing 'til dawn or visiting monuments? Dining at parillas or seeing a tango show or buying leather knick-knacks? Maybe so, and maybe I've missed these things in search of something else, that human contact that I'm starting to miss. I think the closest thing to the inside was my friendship with a half-French half-Porteño vago who promised he'd show me the "real Buenos Aires." But after two months of dancing and eating and drinking and sleeping in parks and wandering aimlessly and talking to people, I wonder can I really say that I know another side to the city? Could I ever? And I'm left with strange, somewhat saddening memories of awkward silences, falling leaves, streets, sunshine and rooftops and early mornings and sitting in doorways and the song of the knife sharpener. No fairy tale there, just reality. And there you go, maybe that's it: just the reality of living here, of having nothing to do, of wasting time and smoking too many cigarettes, and saying and doing all the wrong things, and losing things in translation, that constitutes the real Buenos Aires. "Welcome to South America honey," he always says to me, when I ask yet another question about why things are the way they are here. And I think now I can accept that as an answer, because maybe that's his way of saying that he can't explain it either.
Monday, March 29, 2010
El terremoto que me tembló
My good friend Erica and I decided that our spring break in Chile was meant to be an "indie" movie, complete with a journey, a cast of eccentric characters, and plenty of self-discovery along the way (along with adversity and emotion), so I'm going to go along with this cheesy gimmick to write about our Great Adventure to the other side of the Andes.
Title: El terremoto que me tembló
[Voice-over]
I can hardly believe it's been a month since I was in Chile, and since then so much has happened some of the details of my trip are a little hazy. However, I do know it was the craziest and most incredible week of my life, and I'll never forget the people I met, the places I saw, and the experiences I had. We arrived in Santiago de Chile on February 25, took a bus to Valparaiso, then wandered up the coast to Quintero and Ritoque, eventually making our way back to Santiago. The real star of my story could be the massive earthquake that shook the country my first night in Chile, but I'm sure you've all seen the news, so that'll play a minor role. Yes, it was a tragedy, and affected millions of people who are now without homes, but I wouldn't say it was the climax of my trip...no, more like the narrative hook that jump-starts the plot. My most vivid memory is the people who were there with me, and how how we connected, and went our separate ways and found each other again and became part of each other's lives. Maybe I'll never see them again, but in these moments of my life I felt some sort of deep bond with a group of complete strangers, free spirits wandering around South America much like myself, unsure of where life would take them. And for that week I spent in Chile, life took me to places I never expected to go.
The Cast (in order of appearance)-
Erica Woodson-plays my traveling companion and wonderful friend, who stuck by me until the very end with a good sense of humor and a plucky spirit.
Nikki Zeiter-plays the third traveling companion who takes off in search of her own adventure
Sebastian-the morbidly funny hostel roommate from Finland whose eccentric mannerisms and mutual amusement make for comic relief. He rides a fix-gear bike, wears high socks, safety "googles," the same ill-fitting plaid shirt everyday, and has unhealthy obsessions with both Coca-Cola, socks, and Snus
Edun & Ella-Norwegian girl and Israeli girl who we become close to
Tim & Ben-English chaps
Simona, Lovisa, Allen, Gonzala, Dominic, & Andrew-lively bunch who work at the hostel in Santiago and guide us through earthquake drama, and we have several crazy nights with them
Anna & Feijtje-hippy girls from Amsterdam we meet in Valparaiso and then again in a tiny surf town
John & Felix-skateboarding French Canadian dudes who help us find peanut butter and we meet in Valp, then Ritoque, and then back in Buenos Aires
Minor characters: Sergio, a Chilean; Kika, hostel worker; creepy girl who wanders around Pio Nono; Christian, hostel owner in Valpo; New Zealanders Chris & Ross ; the surfer dudes in Ritoque; the drunk old guys on the streets of Bellavista; and many others
Synopsis: Nikki, Erica and I arrive in Santiago, check into Bellavista hostel, and go out for an amazing seafood dinner (I have the ceviche). We sit at one of the crowded outdoor cafes on Pio Nono (main street in Bellavista) and share a pitcher of Escudo, the cheap domestic beer. Slightly tipsy on the both the beer and how amazing Santiago was, we sit on the rooftop terrace looking at the stars over Santiago...
At about 3 or 4 in the morning we're awakened to what can only be described as shaking, with a terrible sound of howling wind and things shattering. The next day, in the aftermath of the quake, everything is chaos. Powerless (literally without electricty and internet) we sit on the roof in the bright sunshine and dusty air, bonding over what happened and listening to my radio to news of rising death tolls, destruction in the South, and rumors that the airport would be closed indefinitely. We wander around the empty, ghost streets of Santiago in a daze for a few days, drink lots of Escudo, and follow Sebastian around before packing up and catching the bus to Valparaiso, where we stay in a backpacker's hostel and spend a few days wandering the dizzying streets and bro'ing out before making our way up the coast to a dusty little town called Quintero. We hitchhike to Ritoque, a surf village, and spend the next 3 days in paradise. After the stars come out at night we sit around the bonfire grilling meat and drinking pisco with a rowdy bunch of surfer dudes who don't speak English. We relunctantly return to Santiago and spend our last crazy night in Chile partying with the hostel staff. Our flights have been moved around but we make it out of Chile and back to Buenos Aires.
Moments of self-discovery: the aftermath, deciding to go on with our travels despite how worried everyone back at home is, Nikki's departure, sitting around a bonfire looking at the stars and the Pacific ocean, coming back to Santiago to find our friends are still there, looking down at the city from the top of Cerro San Cristobal, and all the disagreements, hardships, hilarious moments along the way, and the beauty of the country and the sadness of leaving it behind.
So there's our epic movie: two friends on an unforgettable journey. And it really was. Chile is the most amazing place, I can't even begin describe to you the experience. And now that I'm writing this, things are coming back to me so clearly it's almost as if I'm there again. But I can't emphasize enough that it was the people I met that changed everything for me. Each and every person had an impact, and I hope they remember me just as I remember them, not just as travelers, locals, surfers, hippies, Europeans, whatever, but people whose dreams cross paths as they wander South America. Everyone had something different in mind when they came here; but whatever they're looking for-freedom, adventure, exotic places, "hot babes," good surf, new people, can be found in South America, where anything, literally, is possible, and everyday is an adventure. I feel some innate connectivity to these wanderers, who much like myself want to live life as they chose, without boundaries, and full of risks and cities and people and night skies. Even now, as I'm thinking about the endless possibilities, I can feel the ground beneath me tremble.
Title: El terremoto que me tembló
[Voice-over]
I can hardly believe it's been a month since I was in Chile, and since then so much has happened some of the details of my trip are a little hazy. However, I do know it was the craziest and most incredible week of my life, and I'll never forget the people I met, the places I saw, and the experiences I had. We arrived in Santiago de Chile on February 25, took a bus to Valparaiso, then wandered up the coast to Quintero and Ritoque, eventually making our way back to Santiago. The real star of my story could be the massive earthquake that shook the country my first night in Chile, but I'm sure you've all seen the news, so that'll play a minor role. Yes, it was a tragedy, and affected millions of people who are now without homes, but I wouldn't say it was the climax of my trip...no, more like the narrative hook that jump-starts the plot. My most vivid memory is the people who were there with me, and how how we connected, and went our separate ways and found each other again and became part of each other's lives. Maybe I'll never see them again, but in these moments of my life I felt some sort of deep bond with a group of complete strangers, free spirits wandering around South America much like myself, unsure of where life would take them. And for that week I spent in Chile, life took me to places I never expected to go.
The Cast (in order of appearance)-
Erica Woodson-plays my traveling companion and wonderful friend, who stuck by me until the very end with a good sense of humor and a plucky spirit.
Nikki Zeiter-plays the third traveling companion who takes off in search of her own adventure
Sebastian-the morbidly funny hostel roommate from Finland whose eccentric mannerisms and mutual amusement make for comic relief. He rides a fix-gear bike, wears high socks, safety "googles," the same ill-fitting plaid shirt everyday, and has unhealthy obsessions with both Coca-Cola, socks, and Snus
Edun & Ella-Norwegian girl and Israeli girl who we become close to
Tim & Ben-English chaps
Simona, Lovisa, Allen, Gonzala, Dominic, & Andrew-lively bunch who work at the hostel in Santiago and guide us through earthquake drama, and we have several crazy nights with them
Anna & Feijtje-hippy girls from Amsterdam we meet in Valparaiso and then again in a tiny surf town
John & Felix-skateboarding French Canadian dudes who help us find peanut butter and we meet in Valp, then Ritoque, and then back in Buenos Aires
Minor characters: Sergio, a Chilean; Kika, hostel worker; creepy girl who wanders around Pio Nono; Christian, hostel owner in Valpo; New Zealanders Chris & Ross ; the surfer dudes in Ritoque; the drunk old guys on the streets of Bellavista; and many others
Synopsis: Nikki, Erica and I arrive in Santiago, check into Bellavista hostel, and go out for an amazing seafood dinner (I have the ceviche). We sit at one of the crowded outdoor cafes on Pio Nono (main street in Bellavista) and share a pitcher of Escudo, the cheap domestic beer. Slightly tipsy on the both the beer and how amazing Santiago was, we sit on the rooftop terrace looking at the stars over Santiago...
At about 3 or 4 in the morning we're awakened to what can only be described as shaking, with a terrible sound of howling wind and things shattering. The next day, in the aftermath of the quake, everything is chaos. Powerless (literally without electricty and internet) we sit on the roof in the bright sunshine and dusty air, bonding over what happened and listening to my radio to news of rising death tolls, destruction in the South, and rumors that the airport would be closed indefinitely. We wander around the empty, ghost streets of Santiago in a daze for a few days, drink lots of Escudo, and follow Sebastian around before packing up and catching the bus to Valparaiso, where we stay in a backpacker's hostel and spend a few days wandering the dizzying streets and bro'ing out before making our way up the coast to a dusty little town called Quintero. We hitchhike to Ritoque, a surf village, and spend the next 3 days in paradise. After the stars come out at night we sit around the bonfire grilling meat and drinking pisco with a rowdy bunch of surfer dudes who don't speak English. We relunctantly return to Santiago and spend our last crazy night in Chile partying with the hostel staff. Our flights have been moved around but we make it out of Chile and back to Buenos Aires.
Moments of self-discovery: the aftermath, deciding to go on with our travels despite how worried everyone back at home is, Nikki's departure, sitting around a bonfire looking at the stars and the Pacific ocean, coming back to Santiago to find our friends are still there, looking down at the city from the top of Cerro San Cristobal, and all the disagreements, hardships, hilarious moments along the way, and the beauty of the country and the sadness of leaving it behind.
So there's our epic movie: two friends on an unforgettable journey. And it really was. Chile is the most amazing place, I can't even begin describe to you the experience. And now that I'm writing this, things are coming back to me so clearly it's almost as if I'm there again. But I can't emphasize enough that it was the people I met that changed everything for me. Each and every person had an impact, and I hope they remember me just as I remember them, not just as travelers, locals, surfers, hippies, Europeans, whatever, but people whose dreams cross paths as they wander South America. Everyone had something different in mind when they came here; but whatever they're looking for-freedom, adventure, exotic places, "hot babes," good surf, new people, can be found in South America, where anything, literally, is possible, and everyday is an adventure. I feel some innate connectivity to these wanderers, who much like myself want to live life as they chose, without boundaries, and full of risks and cities and people and night skies. Even now, as I'm thinking about the endless possibilities, I can feel the ground beneath me tremble.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The Local Wildlife
What you may or may not know is that Buenos Aires is crawling with critters: pigeons & other birdies, insects, dogs, cats and more cats. Ok, so not exactly wild animals, but I can't get enough of the free-roaming pets. As everyone knows, I'm kind of afraid of dogs, and usually only admire them at a distance. But the dogs here-both leashed pets and strays, are so cute and friendly that I want one myself. It's hard to resist the urge to go on a petting spree, especially since I'm not sure if it's rude or not to pet people's dogs. Sometimes I can't help myself, and my hand finds itself patting the furry head of someone's Golden Retriever. Speaking of breeds, dogs are like a status symbol in my neighborhood. Remember last summer when everyone North of 14th Street in NYC had an expensive French bulldog? (of course you wouldn't, unless your name is Temnete Sebhatu) But anyway, I bet half of those poor bulldogs are sitting in a pound somewhere, out of fashion now. Well, it's kind of like that here. Popular breeds are Golden Retrievers, shizus, huskies, and poodles, which are dragged around by little old ladies (I feel bad for the huskies-it's way too hot here for them!). And of course there are the dog walkers, who haul around like 30 dogs of various breeds and sizes, and leave shit all over the sidewalk. Jose, my beloved security guard, has 15 dogs (and 4 cats). Fifteen! Graciela says Jose is "loco," because dog food is so expensive. He told me that most of his pets are "mestizos" (mutts) he rescued from the streets, and that he lives in the Provencia so he has plenty of space for them. People take their pets seriously here. No animal ever seems to go hungry, even the strays. I was petting a group of cats in a trash heap in the park the other day and noticed plates of cat food set out for them, presumably by kind old ladies (like in the Recoleta Cemetery) who can't bear to see cats go hungry. Other hotspots for stray cats are greengrocers and the Botanical Gardens, where clusters of cats lounge under the pruned hedges. As if I don't look crazy enough as it is petting dirty cats, I've taken to photographing them on a regular basis. Some of my favorites are the little orange fellow how lives and few blocks from me, the little gatito who lives at the fruit stand on my way to school (the boys who work there are amused by my obsession), and this fat fluffy gray one that lives behind the fence of some sort of top-security compound. And of course Reni, Graciela's eccentric "boyfriend," who sleeps in between couch cushions and comes into my room at weird hours making all sorts of noise.
I've heard that only Westerners (ie America, Europe) make a big fuss over pets, but considering how well-groomed, obedient, and bountiful domesticated animals are here, I think pet obsession is a universal bourgeois privilege.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Instant coffee: a series of long-overdue posts
I must admit, I was surprised (at my own cultural insensitivity, no doubt) that not all Latin American food is spicy. Graciela patiently explained to me that all Americans expect spicy food, since we're so used to peppers and hot sauce in Mexican/Tex Mex cuisine, but here they don't eat their food with added spice. Aside from meat and a few popular regional dishes, Argentine cuisine doesn't especially stand out in flavor, unusual ingredients, or originality. However, I don't want you to get the impression that the food here is boring. Yeah, you could eat crappy hamburgers and pasta all the time, but I think the Argentine (with Spanish and Italian influence) classics are the way to go if you want culinary satisfaction. Food is rich: meats and cheeses, tartas, creamy coffee, alfajores (cookie layered with dulce de leche and covered in chocolate), freshly baked breads and desserts, winter vegetables, eggs and/or dulce de leche served with everything. It's slow, and meant to be savored and enjoyed with wine or beer, and always with friends.
Breakfast is fairly simple and solitary: every morning I eat two pieces of toast spread with marmeledas or dulce de leche, fruit, orange juice, and instant coffee with azucar.
Since lunch is on my own, I usually head down to the confiteria (panederia to all you other Spanish speakers) and buy a couple of freshly baked empanadas (filled with jamon y queso, roquefort, carne picante, spinach, pumpkin, or chicken, depending on the day) for 3 pesos each. Other days I'll buy some fruit and bread from the supermercado, or nuts and snacks from the health food store. Most afternoons I get a cafe and a snack, like medialunas (sweet croissants) or helado, both of which are cultures of their own here.
I've heard horror stories from other students about their host families depriving them of basic nourishment and/or being terrible cooks, etc, so I guess I can consider myself lucky living with Graciela, who is very health-conscious and provides a variety of nutritious meals. Dinner usually consists of protein and a vegetable, with very little carbs, grease, or dairy. Here's a sample menu of dinners from the past few weeks:
-roasted peppers, choclo (corn), and baked chicken
-corn/red pepper quiche
-eggplant and pasta
-pollo milanesas, calabaza (pumpkin), and fresh sliced tomatoes
-porkchops with salsa de mostaza, or baked with apples
-omelettes
-grilled steak and salad
-soups (cream of cebolla, chicken)
sides: sweet potato, lentils, tomatoes, carrot, peppers, pumpkin...basically whatever's fresh and in season
dessert: fruit, with dulce de leche
I don't go out to eat a lot, because a) there's no such thing as a quick meal here. And b) it's pretty expensive. But I've had enough experience in the BA restaurant/cafe scene to compile a fairly legitimate "Best Of..." list:
Best empanadas: Chantilly Confiteria (best price too-can't beat 3 pesos each!)
Best dessert: churros and hot chocolate at Cafe Tortoni, although an alfajor will satisfy your sweet tooth
Best coffee shop: el Potosi, for cafe con leche, Coco Cola in glass bottles, sandwiches with unusual fillings, and a cozy brick atmosphere. It's a local place I discovered a few weeks ago, and I go several times a week. The old men who sit outside with their friends are so cute and friendly I want to put them in my pocket. And the waitress knows me now that I've been there so often.
Best cocktail: clairivoska (vodka, lime, sugar)
Best (cheap) beer: Quilmes
Best wine: Malbec, duh.
Best savory snack (to enjoy with a beer): picada, a plate of olives, cheese, and cubed deli meats (salami, ham, prosciutto)
Best snack for anytime: medialunas
Best brunch: Oui Oui (the girls and I had a Valentine's Day brunch of eggs, bacon, french toast, waffles, and of course, cafe con leche)
Best all around: steak (de asado). Yes, I do eat meat now. And I'm not going to pretend I'm not enjoying it.
Breakfast is fairly simple and solitary: every morning I eat two pieces of toast spread with marmeledas or dulce de leche, fruit, orange juice, and instant coffee with azucar.
Since lunch is on my own, I usually head down to the confiteria (panederia to all you other Spanish speakers) and buy a couple of freshly baked empanadas (filled with jamon y queso, roquefort, carne picante, spinach, pumpkin, or chicken, depending on the day) for 3 pesos each. Other days I'll buy some fruit and bread from the supermercado, or nuts and snacks from the health food store. Most afternoons I get a cafe and a snack, like medialunas (sweet croissants) or helado, both of which are cultures of their own here.
I've heard horror stories from other students about their host families depriving them of basic nourishment and/or being terrible cooks, etc, so I guess I can consider myself lucky living with Graciela, who is very health-conscious and provides a variety of nutritious meals. Dinner usually consists of protein and a vegetable, with very little carbs, grease, or dairy. Here's a sample menu of dinners from the past few weeks:
-roasted peppers, choclo (corn), and baked chicken
-corn/red pepper quiche
-eggplant and pasta
-pollo milanesas, calabaza (pumpkin), and fresh sliced tomatoes
-porkchops with salsa de mostaza, or baked with apples
-omelettes
-grilled steak and salad
-soups (cream of cebolla, chicken)
sides: sweet potato, lentils, tomatoes, carrot, peppers, pumpkin...basically whatever's fresh and in season
dessert: fruit, with dulce de leche
I don't go out to eat a lot, because a) there's no such thing as a quick meal here. And b) it's pretty expensive. But I've had enough experience in the BA restaurant/cafe scene to compile a fairly legitimate "Best Of..." list:
Best empanadas: Chantilly Confiteria (best price too-can't beat 3 pesos each!)
Best dessert: churros and hot chocolate at Cafe Tortoni, although an alfajor will satisfy your sweet tooth
Best coffee shop: el Potosi, for cafe con leche, Coco Cola in glass bottles, sandwiches with unusual fillings, and a cozy brick atmosphere. It's a local place I discovered a few weeks ago, and I go several times a week. The old men who sit outside with their friends are so cute and friendly I want to put them in my pocket. And the waitress knows me now that I've been there so often.
Best cocktail: clairivoska (vodka, lime, sugar)
Best (cheap) beer: Quilmes
Best wine: Malbec, duh.
Best savory snack (to enjoy with a beer): picada, a plate of olives, cheese, and cubed deli meats (salami, ham, prosciutto)
Best snack for anytime: medialunas
Best brunch: Oui Oui (the girls and I had a Valentine's Day brunch of eggs, bacon, french toast, waffles, and of course, cafe con leche)
Best all around: steak (de asado). Yes, I do eat meat now. And I'm not going to pretend I'm not enjoying it.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
la moda de los Porteños
I can't help but notice how beautiful and glamorous most people are here. Of course there are the subcultures of the disenfranchised (blah blah blah) and plastic surgery is very common, but there is definitely a specific standard of beauty. So here's a few observations about what Porteños (that's the word to refer to people from Buenos Aires) are wearing, how they're grooming themselves, and what defines beautiful. It's like they don't allow ugly people on the streets!
Viejos: sad eyes, wrinkles, balding heads, a collared shirt (with stripes or plaid) tucked into belted khakis, orthopedic shoes, and a cane.
los chicos: hipster-meets-guido-meets-soccer player is the look right now. They wear Toms, Havanas flip flops, or rad hightops, long denim shorts and futbol jerseys, (but shirtless preferred, which is ok, because they're all super-fit). They sport slicked back ponytails (ala David Beckham cerca 2002-2003), mullets, piercings, and yes, rat-tails. hola guapo!
las chicas: anything goes with the ladies, but denim minis, cute sneakers, tank tops in all colors, and sandals are a must. Hair is worn long, straight, and dyed various shades of blonde. They actually don't wear much make-up, they're just that pretty.
ladies of an older generation: they are usually very elegant-long skirts, tailored pants, blouses (cleave!!), comfy yet tasteful sandals, and dangly earrings.
Cigarettes are a popular accessory for everyone but las viejas. And people wear their book-bags on the front. Seriously.
Viejos: sad eyes, wrinkles, balding heads, a collared shirt (with stripes or plaid) tucked into belted khakis, orthopedic shoes, and a cane.
los chicos: hipster-meets-guido-meets-soccer player is the look right now. They wear Toms, Havanas flip flops, or rad hightops, long denim shorts and futbol jerseys, (but shirtless preferred, which is ok, because they're all super-fit). They sport slicked back ponytails (ala David Beckham cerca 2002-2003), mullets, piercings, and yes, rat-tails. hola guapo!
las chicas: anything goes with the ladies, but denim minis, cute sneakers, tank tops in all colors, and sandals are a must. Hair is worn long, straight, and dyed various shades of blonde. They actually don't wear much make-up, they're just that pretty.
ladies of an older generation: they are usually very elegant-long skirts, tailored pants, blouses (cleave!!), comfy yet tasteful sandals, and dangly earrings.
Cigarettes are a popular accessory for everyone but las viejas. And people wear their book-bags on the front. Seriously.
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