El Mercado de San Telmo

Today I spent all afternoon at the market in San Telmo. It was a gorgeous Spring day -- perfect for just wandering around the market and neighborhood. I got a little bit lost at one point... but San Telmo is a safe area and I hadn't been there before so I enjoyed the stroll. The market takes place every Sunday, and I already can't wait to go back. There were so many lovely trinkets, like vintage jewelry, these precious miniature tango shoes and leather bags. I wanted to buy a little bit of everything! But I resisted... with the exception of a beautiful ceramic mate that a local artist made. It is so unique and unlike any other mate that vendors usually sell. I was also able to get the price down, so it ended up being a bit of a steal. Mate is growing on me... and I couldn't leave Buenos Aires without one of my own, right? Some of the art was also stunning. I would like to go back and buy one of the pieces from the artist in the picture below.

I love it.

now I just need some herba mate!

I tried on a coral necklace from the 1940's! Pretty inexpensive, as well.

So tiny and fabulous!

leatherleatherleather

It is no rumor... there are tango performances in the street! She danced beautifully, and the gentleman was very charming. I might have accepted when he asked me to dance if there wasn't such a big audience!

Mom Troubles

For the second time now, Javiera lectured me about how terrible my eating habits are. I haven't been eating everything on my plate at dinner and for breakfast I usually have just a couple pieces of toast with butter (she would prefer me to have it with jam and dulce de leche...) or an apple. What she doesn't know is that I've been eating delicious empanadas, fruit and granola bars after or before dinner when I'm not around the house! I wish I could explain that I am not "the biggest fan" (total euphemism) of the meals that she has served, but I am afraid that I would terribly offend her. The worst was when she gave me a spoonful of vinegar mixed with soy sauce at 9:30 in the morning before class. She was cooking rice and vegetables in this strange mixture, and because I cringed at the taste she doesn't believe I eat ANY veggies. We also eat dinner around 7 pm every night, which is very unusual in Argentina! Most families have dinner around 10/10:30. I would like to be able to go out to eat with friends on what we call 'Argentime', order traditional Argentine dishes, and still try new things (just without the heckling). Javiera brought my health up again this evening at dinner when she had me try her strawberry jello for dessert even though I said I've never been keen on it. She said, "You are okay, Julita, because you are not fat or thin, but you are so short because you do not eat healthy." I couldn't help but to let out a chuckle. According to Javiera there is plenty of scientific research proving that an unhealthy diet stunts growth. She very seriously expressed concern for my health and from now on she is going to monitor my eating habits. I told her that my parents aren't worried about me and nor should she, but her response was, "They do not care about your health?" Talk about dramatic. Maybe I should change the name of this blog to "Living In An Argentine Soap Opera". Ay caramba!

The Recoleta Cemetery

my lovely friend, Freya, from Melbourne.

My First Full Day

Javiera set apricot marmalade, plum marmalade, butter and dulce de leche on the table. When I finished spreading butter over my toast this morning and proceeded to take a bite, Javiera abruptly stopped me. "You aren't going to put anything else??" she asked. I shook my head and smiled because she sounded as if she didn't believe me when I said I was content with just butter. I should've known that when she asks a question like that, it will be followed by insistence. She took a piece of my toast and spread a dollop of dulce de leche over the butter. She extended her hand and said, "You try." I reluctantly took a very small bite, in the same fashion that I normally would when eating something for the first time, but both Javiera and Maxi guilted me into consuming the entirety of the dulce de leche. It turned out to be wonderful, sort of similar to caramel, but so sweet! Especially for having just woken up. According to Javiera, sweets for breakfast are very common among Argentineans. When I denied her offer of coffee or tea several times (because once again she didn't believe me at first), and told her that I usually drink juice in the morning, she cocked her head to the side and looked at me with furrowed brows. "How strange. We take orange for dessert, not breakfast," she said, marking the end of that discussion.

After breakfast, Maxi left to visit his girlfriend who lives outside of the city. Javiera and I walked to La Recoleta, one of many charming neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. We came across a market, La Feria Plaza Francia, which is organized in the park every weekend. Local artisans of many different kinds convene there to sell and showcase their work, which includes handmade jewlery, la rosa del inca (the national stone of Argentina), clothing, paintings, drawings, sculptures, mate and bombillas (the gourd and type of straw used for drinking yerba mate), leather anything, and so on. Many of the products are very traditional to Argentine culture, but not all of them. Javiera and I wandered through, stopping briefly at various jewelery vendors. I ended up snagging an inexpensive silver ear cuff for my cartilage, and Javiera insisted (I could foresee that this was going to happen often..) on buying me two different types of alfajores, which could be described as a corn-flower based cookie sandwich with dulce de leche in the middle. My favorite so far are the ones that are covered in chocolate. Delicious!

She also took me to see Nuestra Senora del Pilar, a beautiful church across from the park, then to the Recoleta cemetery. I have never seen a lovelier cemetery. Seriously. The style of the tombs and mausoleums is gorgeous, so pleasant and ornate. The cemetery is also kept incredibly clean. It is certainly a tranquil place and I plan on going back sometime.

Javiera and I then went to visit her brother's home which was not too far away. Her brother is a diplomat currently posted in the Philippines with his wife, but their four children still live in their apartment in Buenos Aires. I met Joaquin (29), Javier (27), Marta (25), and Martín (20). Javier did not stay long, but I got along very well with the others. Javiera left for home and I stayed to go to the park with Joaquin and Martín. Marta gave me her number and let me know that she goes out most nights of the week so I should feel free to call her any time. They all speak English quite well, but I tried to speak Spanish most of the time. I feel like my ears have already become more accustomed to hearing Argentine Spanish in particular. Anyway, we walked around the market for a bit, looked at some things and talked. Martín left shortly after to play a RPG (a.k.a. role playing game, for you non-nerds), so Joaquin and I continued through the park for a while then decided to go back his apartment for some warm mate. This stuff is strange. Even while I was drinking it I had trouble finding the proper language to describe its taste. The herb itself is called herba mate. Joaquin poured some of the herba into a mate (gourd used as a cup) followed by boiled water, took a few sips, then passed the mate across the table to me. He explained that drinking mate is very much a social tradition, similar to hookah. There are people who drink it alone, but it is traditionally a beverage to share among a group. Everyone drinks from the same mate through a bombilla, and someone must refill it with hot water once the water is gone. I enjoyed the mate, especially after being outside in the cold, but it is so bitter that I'm not sure I could drink it as often as Argentines do. Maybe it will grow on me though... it is definitely unique. I am sure I will have some again very soon, and hopefully it will be as pleasant a social experience as the one today. Yay for new Argentine friends!

After a while I walked back to my apartment. It is only about 15 or so blocks away, but still very exciting because I was confident about where I was and how to get back. I love getting to know a city, recognizing stores and street names, and just having an idea of where the hell you are juxtaposition to other desirable destinations. Joaquin was very sweet and offered to walk me back even though it was still light and very safe, but I knew I would get home okay. I broke out into a proud little victory dance in the elevator on the way up to the apartment. Only 5 minutes later Javiera forced me to try liverwurst. Never again... But sweet potatoes drizzled with dulce de leche. Yum.

Now it's time to relax and watch River Plate versus Vélez Sársfield.

p.s. Photos to come!

No Funny Business in Buenos Aires

To be honest, it didn't take long for me to notice how dirty Buenos Aires is. Whether I really care about the cleanliness or not, is a different story. The water is perfectly fine, too. It's mainly just all of the garbage and black clouds of gas emissions. Was just an observation, and I can't decide if it's a little dirtier than New York City or not. The older French-influenced architecture is stunning, though. And La Plaza de Mayo is a very charming park, with the kind of trees that make you want to curl up against the trunk with a good book, or your journal. My impression of the city so far is that it's rather laid back, but Javiera says that the city sleeps on the weekends and transforms once Monday morning comes around. Guess I'll found out soon.

I was greeted at the elevator by Javiera, who welcomed me with a big bear hug and kiss on the cheek. I met Maxi on my way into the apartment, who must be 6'3" or taller, so his effort to kiss my cheek was much appreciated. Javiera helped me haul my belongings into my bedroom, which is very cozy. The apartment has that aged wood/old library book smell to it that I love. It's comforting for whatever reason. Javiera showed me around the kitchen, bathrooms, her bedroom, and had me practice locking and unlocking the three different sets of locks on the front door. Confusing, but I'm pretty sure we won't be expecting any break-ins. It wasn't long before Javiera informed me of our plans to take a tour of the "heart of the city"... in ten minutes. I was exhausted from the two hours of sleep I got on the plane and aching from my over-stuffed luggage, but how could I object? So out we went. She showed me the laundromat that I should use, the Congreso, various restaurants, shopping centers, stores on Avenida de Mayo, La Plaza de Mayo, La Casa Rosada, La Confiteria del Molino, the theaters on Avenida Corrientes, Buenos Aires Metropolitan Cathedral, la Plaza San Martin, the Arms Museum in Retiro--- the rest is a fuzzy blur. I definitely did not expect a 3 hour walking tour on my first day, but I'm happy I did it. I like how open Javiera is. She creates a "no bullshit/let's get down to the nitty gritty stuff" kind of atmosphere, and I'm keen on it. We talked a lot about our families in particular. I learned that she has experienced quite a bit of trauma when it comes to family, which I gather is a significant part of the reason she got involved in the homestay business. Javiera said to me, "Julita, this makes me so happy that you are here. It is just so nice." She lost her eldest son three years ago to cancer. I admire how she remains very sweet, warm and affectionate.

Maxi is also a sweetheart, but with a bit of a sassy attitude (at least toward his mother). He certainly doesn't seem as conservative as Javiera, which I also feel good about. Apparently he has decided to pursue a career in music with his melodic/heavy metal band. By day he works in the Human Rights Department of Buenos Aires, but it is clear that his passion for composing and playing music trumps the day job. We talked quite a bit about music and artists we like at dinner. He's going to show me some of his band's work, and I'm going to educate him with some progressive/alternative rock.

I like it here. I think Buenos Aires, the Otero family, and I are going to get along quite well.

Mucho Gusto, Santiago?

I noticed a handsome young Argentine man standing near me while I was waiting to board the plane. When I say young I mean clearly in his twenties (turned out to be 27). Naturally, I avoided making eye contact with him like the plague. Why, you might ask? Because I could hear the echoing of my father's voice paired with the image of Liam Neeson in Taken telling me not to trust ANYONE while traveling. Sustained eye contact = inviting someone to approach you. That's "Father Advice to Daughters 101". So I started thinking about what I would tell a man who approached me in this kind of situation. Fake name? Jordan. Fake current living situation? Brooklyn, New York, New York. Fake reason for going to Buenos Aires? Studying and living in Palermo. And so on. I had my lies down and ready.

Of course I am in the last group of ten people to board and end up seated right next to the guy! I am silent, still averting my eyes, and feeling like a total jerk because, really, this person hasn't done anything incriminating in the slightest. My father's/Liam Neeson's/Agent Gideon's Criminal Minds team's voice fed my paranoia much more than my own instincts about this young man did. So when he (Santiago) courteously offered a place in the overhead compartment for my massive purse, I gave him an appreciative smile as I insist, "No! No! Está bien. Es el tuyo." Then with an hour and ten minute wait for the plane to ascend, we took the opportunity to exhaust my knowledge of Spanish. I was forced to blow my cover when he said something that was clearly a question and my brain failed to process what sounded like a melted mess of phonemes that resembled the Spanish language. The jig was up. He seemed like a decent human being, probably not about to go all Taken 2 on my culo, so I answered a few questions honestly, but stuck with my lies about what I am doing in Buenos Aires. Throughout the duration of the flight he actually gave me several tips and golden nuggets of information, including his email in case I have any more questions and need his help. This is where my dad would go, "Awww nooo c'monnn..it's all a ploy!" I think that's probably not the case in this scenario, but I suppose I shouldn't rule it out. I'm obviously not about to email him and make plans to meet up somewhere alone though. So in general I don't think that accepting an email address from someone you just met is at all threatening... I've just watched way too many episodes of Criminal Minds not to be somewhat skeptical. Better safe (and maybe on the paranoid side) than sorry..... right?

Airports Aren't The Same Without A Little Complaining...

This was easier when I had my best friend Laura to hold hands with and distract each other when we flew to and from Switzerland this summer. In my opinion, the worst part of flying (besides the hell that is getting through the airport) is the 30 or so minutes before take-off, where we have to sit and wait our turn to ascend. Couldn't the flight attendants hand us each a mini bar sized bottle of wine when we board the plane? Now wouldn't that be nice. Instead, during the 30+ minutes of stagnancy I always catch myself thinking about the part in Fight Club where Tyler Durden redesigns the emergency instructions manual. I've never read that manual, to be honest. I figure it was enough to watch the cheesy old school style videos that they used to show. I also would rather just keep that stuff out of my mind while I am already on the plane and there's no turning back. But the wait allows the anxiety to build up. Allows me to start thinking about those images of frightened people pulling on oxygen masks. Trust in the science and physics of it all, I tell myself. I admit that such trust is blind, for I know next to nothing about how planes work, but I'm okay with that for now. They say flying in a plane is safer than driving a car, which I actually don't find hard to believe considering the number of idiots one encounters on the road. In the end, I know that I will arrive safe and sound. Even so, a smooth glass of red wine would hit the spot right now. But I guess I will have plenty of that when I am in the land of Malbec!

I have 10 hours and 45 minutes ahead of me. Not bad... I'm building up my endurance for when I visit my jackarse mates in Australia (this is your official shout out, JustinBiebs, Alex El Guapo, and Sleazy Steve Szalay). Anyway, my anxiety about flying always lifts once the plane is en route, then the excitements builds. Javiera, my host mother, sounds wonderful. We exchanged a few emails, and from what I gather she seems very warm and kind. She sent me a hug and a kiss from her and Maxi, her son. Thinking about the comfort that awaits me helps to calm my nerves. Argentina, here I come!

AY CARAMBA...Time for Some Soul Searching

...Reality is finally starting to set in, so here comes a brief moment of panic.What am I getting myself into?! I always wanted to do something like this. Live in another country, experience diverse cultures, build relationships around the world, learn languages. So what is there to worry about? Traveling alone as a young woman, who, some say is quite small, has its risks... but what I lack in size I make up for in confidence, street smarts and a feisty attitude (I blame NYC for teaching me how to sport a good "bitch face"). So far this has worked out in my favor, so I'm not too worried. I suppose I haven't been away from home for this long... which I must admit isn't so easy for me considering how close I am to my parents. Luckily though Mommio and Daddio will be visiting me. :D (Phew!) So I don't expect to get too homesick.

Now some might say I'm crazy for taking the semester off to go abroad and not receive credit for it. I expected this reaction from most adults, maybe some fellow students, and it is always followed by the same question: "So will you graduate on time or...?" Naturally, that was one of my concerns when I thought about doing this in the first place. Then I thought, does it matter? I know that I am doing something truly worthwhile and important, to others as well as myself. And hey, this is probably be the best time to do it, you know, before I have too many responsibilities and whatnot (hehe).

I'm approaching this as an opportunity to see myself in a different context and to open myself up to the world (one city at a time). I want to absorb all of the information that I can get my hands on. Exercise love and kindness, and welcome new friends to reciprocate. In my experience thus far, there's something about traveling that can reveal things you never knew about yourself. Who am I when I am out of my comfort zone, and who might I become by the end of my adventures? It's time for me to explore my roots so that I can better articulate my identity and make peace within myself, while being a part of a hugely positive movement.