The little things

Just a list of the quirks and maybe some of the less glamourous things I've picked up so far..

• the idea that napkins should be absorbent is a foreign concept...instead they are little sheets of parchment paper used to decorate the tables
• you get used to water unidentified water dripping from above you..people say it's just watering plants that leak onto your head on the way to school, so I'd like to continue believing that's what it is
• people here are good multi-taskers. They can drink mate, walk to work, AND avoid the unusually common piles of dog poo. I've been lucky but have witnessed my fair share of unfortunate victims
• The reason for the poo: the rediculous amounts of dogs, and even more impressive - the dog walkers who will fill the entire sidewalk with batches of up to 14 dogs. Always with mp3 players in, arms braced, and the most talented: riding bycicles
• Peter's - hot dog store with toppings ranging from jalepeno cream spread to corn salsa, always with potato fries on top...you eat here after 4am
• Loco drivers, that goes for collectivo's, taxis, and personal drivers...and all drive manuals, so automatics here
• Despite my high hopes for south american food, if you are trying to live on a budget their diet consists of empenadas, pasta, and milenesa
• They put hard broiled eggs in, on, and around just about everything
• The sidewalks here are more like obstacle courses with uneven blocks, teeter-totter ones, and best of all - they are camoflouged to look exactly the same so it's always a nice surprise

This could be one of those memories...

So here's the back story: I went to Nuestro Caballos after reading about it in one of our weekly e-mails of what to do in BsAs. It was one of the biggest horse exhibitions in the country and better yet, it was only about 6 blocks from my residencia. The description was brief, saying the place would have about 1,200 head of the finest argentine horses...but not much more. So I grabbed my fellow horsey friend and UK go-er and we headed off to see what it was all about. I had my doubts that the center of this huge city could have any kind of legitimate horse experience and when it came time to pay the 15peso entrance I was setting myself up for a bit of a let-down. Long story short we ended up watching some horse sales, shopping for some polo gear, and looking at the rows upon rows of criollo horses. After watching some of the reigning competition, my friend ended up leaving as she had to get home but I decided to wander outside to the warm-up ring for more photo opportunities. All the gauchos were hanging out with their horses, and polo and pato players were warming up. After being wrapped up in taking their pictures I noticed a peruano horse being exercised for sale and decided to test out my spanish with some of the horse owners. After chatting with several, I was directed to a woman who knew some english. We talked horses for a while and I expressed how I wished there were somewhere close by I could just ride instead of paying for expensive tourist rides that only allowed you to walk. Turns out I was talking to the right lady. My new friend Valerie is a very successful barrel racer in Argentina and her husband is a talented trainer of criollo horses - he "makes" horses as she says. So she loaded me up with plenty of free passes for the next day of competition and I left with her phone number, an invitation to her farm, and the bus number i would have to take with the direction that she would "pick me up at the gas station."

Fast forward to Wednesday, the 21st. I am woken up by a call from an unknown number, and stumbling to the dresser I answer with a raspy "Hola?!" After a short conversation with my new friend, I have all the information I need and am on my way to Plaza Italia with 2 freshly bought empanadas and no idea what to expect.

I wish I could say my language skills and independence have improved enough to make the bus stop a breeze but it's not quite there. After some translation by fellow spanglish speakers and an understanding driver, I had a round-trip ticket to Pilar..about an hour trip each way. I saw my bus, jumped on, and closed my eyes for the ride.

About 40 minutes in, with a panicky feeling in my stomach, I realized I had no idea where to get off. In desperation, I asked the girl next to me "Hablas ingles?!" and to my huge relief she responded with a smile and "yes."

Again, luck and the ever-friendly people of this country were on my side again. She talked to Valerie and happened to know the bus driver and set it up so he would tell me when it was my turn to get off. After that, we chatted about the cultures, her one visit to the states, and I answered her many questions about things like cheerleaders and sororities. When it came time for her stop we went to the front and exchanged numbers to hang out in BsAs later. She thought I was very brave, and I'm sure a bit stupid after realizing I was on a bus, didn't speak the language. and was headed to a strangers house but assured me the people in Pilar were extremely nice and I was going to love being out of the city. She wished me luck, and two stops later I was given my queue and hopped off on the side of a highway next to my destined gas station. Sure enough, Val was there and after a quick hug and hello we headed off. We caught up a bit, talked about her kids and husband, about her horses and accidents, competitions and accomplishments.

A few minutes later we pulled up to a quaint but beautiful estancia-style house in a secluded half-wooded, half-field area. The whole house was decorated in photos of her family’s life with horses, old saddles of varying styles, bits and a a huge mate collection she attributed to her husband Gonzalo. After more talk, and playing with her 3 awesome dogs I was introduced to Linda, her 8 year old chestnut Arabian mare and best friend. She invited me to eat some sandwiches and juice while we talked and my favorite of the dogs, a rescued golden retriever laid his head on my lap while Linda wandered close by.

Soon, it was time to ride. She groomed and tacked up with a smoother looking western saddle that her friend makes (super light weight) and told me to hop on. After some walking and just getting comfortable she taught me the basics of barrels, showing me the hip movements, how to look and stressing that Linda knew what she was doing, and if anything went wrong it would be because of my mistake not hers. So the pressure was on! Soon though I had her cantering a figure 8 around the 2 barrels and was feeling great being back in the saddle. Val’s daughter came out and watched and brought mate that we all drank to give Linda a break. I couldn't stop smiling already - drinking mate with locals I had met on my own, yelling and giving commands in Spanish on top of an incredible horse in a beautiful place outside the noise and rush of the city, meeting more and more friendly people as the day went on.

But then she took it a step further, and I don't think I've stopped smiling since. When I first met her she had mentioned showing her horse without a bridle, but I did not expect her to do the same for me. But sure enough she was leaning forward, taking Linda's entire bridle off and replacing it with about a 4 foot rope for something to hold onto around her neck. I was pumped. We started right off, and the horse was amazing...at one point I was going the fastest I had, staying tight to the barrels and got frustrated when we made a wider turn. Val had to shout to me, "remember, you are riding without a bridle!" We galloped a bit around the pen, testing out turns, and getting more and more comfortable with the speed and the sudden changes in direction before calling it a day. I had been riding for almost 4 hours and could tell I was going to be in pain the next day, but didn't care. I have always wanted to try barrel racing, and I'm not sure if my into to the sport could be topped.

Before leaving I watched some youtube videos of her husband’s horses, drank chocolate milk and eased off the leather paddock boots she had lent me for the day. Her daughters friend came over and we all hung out listening to The Beatles and Maroon5, waiting for her to get ready for work. The whole time I was in a mixed state of shock and bliss. It was the most comfortable I had been yet in BsAs, with the type of people and lifestyle I love most, and I felt completely at ease and in my element. I was proud that I had followed my gut instead of letting the fear of going alone or going with a stranger stop me.

So, saying goodbye to the dogs, and jumping in the back seat with my adopted family of the day, we headed back to town. Her husband and step-son met us there as we dropped the daughter off at work and all made a combined effort to help me catch the right bus back with careful directions which stop to take. With lots of hugs and kisses goodbye, I thanked them, and jumped on my bus home. I hope to see them again and even more so - to continue to take even more opportunities as they come.

It was a seemingly small event, but for me it was a pivotal part of my experience here, and I will never forget the day I took the colectivo to a bus station somewhere in Argentina.

Pshh...This doesn't look too bad

As I clumsily ran off the red sandy rock below, launching myself into the fun but slightly unspectacular zip line, I was feeling pretty confident.

We were in Mendoza, our CEA crew once again exploring a new part of the country and alienating even more argentine hospitality workers. This time especially, the setting was spectacular. It reminded me a lot of Arizona with the desert landscape and varying shades of red and orange mountains. But what really got me was the water - it was an amazing turquoise, and ran the perimeter of where we were staying. We ended up rafting it, but I'll save that for later.

The guides had outfitted us in about 20 minutes with our gear and harnesses, and picked groups by saying "you here, you there." No orientation, boring talks, or signing waivers. Just getting right into it.

So as I zipped across the small canyon, I prepared myself for an amateur morning of baby-adventure. I'm not quite sure where this confidence came from seeing as how I have never repelled before...but even after the upward hike to the top, even after seeing each of my peers drop themselves more nervously each time off the side of the cliff - I was sure it would be a piece of cake.

At almost the same moment the guide grabbed my hip clip and attached me to the various ropes anchored on the mountain, I realized I had no clue what to do. He had given a quick show-and-tell kind of presentation in spanglish, but I was still feeling so confident, I'm not sure I listened closely enough. He tugged me forward, my goofy red helmet slumping a bit with the jerk. I stumbled forward, still OK and coordinated...I even grabbed the right rope and hooked my left hand around my harness like I had seen others do.

That’s when I saw the edge of the cliff. Woops. My already limited spanish went up about two octaves and shook as I asked if he was sure I was doing everything right. I have to say leaning backwards over the rocks and people below did a good blow to my temporary confidence. He ended up keeping me there for a bit, turning his back on me (and my potential fall to the jagged rocks below) to tell the group to look at my good form and technique thus far. Now normally I would like this kind of praise, however small, but I couldn't contain my look of sheer confusion after the statement.

All of a sudden he said, "bye-bye, adios!" and there I was...letting line out, pulling it in, step-step, down the side of the mountain. The only part I clearly remember is turning around to look down and seeing the guide below and a huge bulge in the rocks I was walking down in mid-air.

As my feet touched down in what felt was 30 min later, but was more like 5...I felt pretty good. And intact with a confident smile and incredibly shaky hands I went to join the rest of the group.

Pshhh we said, "that was a piece of cake."

Sometimes it's the little things..

..that make me realize how much I have to learn. On a whim yesterday my new roommate and I decided to grab some ice cream and get our hair cut. Random combination I know, but it was time for some change. We tried out a different (and better) ice cream place than usual and headed to a place she knew of for our hair. It was around 8pm, but they do things later here. After roughly communicating that I wanted my hair cut and I didn't have a lot of money, I jumped into the chair to get it washed an start the process. A guy with bleached faux-hawk hair who looked close to my age was my hairdresser for the evening. Funny thing about guy hair-dressers: they are no less men even when taking care of your hair. Compared to my place back home, where my head is massaged to the point where I am smiling and want to fall asleep..this was more of a sports deep tissue massage. As I strained with a half-grimace and he pulsated his fingers across my scalp I couldn't help but worry a bit about what I'd gotten myself into. Being that my roommate is from Ecuador I ran to her after being released from the sink and had her translate my short version of the cut I wanted: some layers, kinda side bangs, and I guess whatever he thinks looks good. So there I sit, and he starts snipping. It felt like an eternity and as he slid his fingers down a large chunk of hair, stopped short, and CHOP! much earlier than I expected, I swallowed my stomach. I think he could tell I was mentally preparing myself for the baseball hats and scarves that I would need to cover the poof that was being created because he just smiled and did a stair like motion to show it was for layers. It didn’t help much but I smiled, nodded, and told him everything was good. Well, after the cut, it was time to dry. I honestly couldn't tell much difference in the length despite the piles of hair at my feet, so I was feeling a bit more confident. I basically closed my eyes for the next 40 minutes as he pulled and super-heated my head. Listo! he said as he held up a mirror and to my incredible surprise, my hair was looking pretty good! A ton of layers, just like every other girl in this country, mostly straight with some curl at the bottom, and best of all - not too short! I was calm again, happy, and best of all - not broke. It only cost me 55pesos for wash, cut, blow & style...less than $15! So I have now tried some of the best tiramisu ice cream in Palermo, and am sporting a new, and so far OK, local haircut. Next time though, I might try to brush up on my salon vocabulary ;)

The Pressure!

So, if you know me -- a few things probobally pop into your head. Rediculously disorganized, loves food and animals maybe more than the regular bear, and in the best possible way - not totally there sometimes. I daydream alot, I procrastinate, and I make lots of little lists to make myself feel organized in the chaos. I'm a nester, leaving little piles of necesities in obscure places, becasue I will obviously look for my travel size toothbrush and yoga information in the back pocket of my camera case when I need them most.

Call them quirks, oddities, personality, or problems....it doesn't make a difference. But the reason I have decided to go on about this is because life abroad has only intensified these (we'll call them quirks)..quirks. A good example:

I have tried keeping a rough budget here and there...so when 200 pesos went mysteriously missing, I was a little concerned. After a thorough cleaning of the room, I decided to go a bit deeper. The following is a good reason to not read too many travel blogs and "travel tips" before your first big experience - I ended up finding almost all of the 200 pesos (and some centavos) in what were supposed to be inteligent and thief-proof places. AKA: the soles of my shoes, inside a bra, in various interior pockets of clothing, and even a few in my bed. It doesn't help that the money here is tissue thin, and seems to disolve in your pockets. I have no explanation for my logic and am equally amused and embarrassed when I find my money in these places but at least for now, it loos like I will never be comletely penniless in a crunch!

But now for the main point. This blog has intesified these quirks, or perhaps just the stress of them. In saying I am disorganized, I mean I do things differently. If we have ever talked you will know, I am a story teller. I will use snapshots, experiences, stories I have heard -- anything to convey the point. It's just how I communicate. But what this also means, is there has to be a story worth telling. I have not written in a while becasue of the stress of it, the pressure to record each thing as it happens, chronologically - so I will not forget. And then there are the things I have to have something to say about, because how could I not? Like seeing some of the most impressive waterfalls in the world, or "backpacking patagonia"...well, I've decided that's just not how my mind works, at least not for now - I think I'm going to try writing about the things that impress ME the most. And who knows, maybe it will be the next cool exotic place or it might be about the funny old man at the kiosko.

My point is this: The quirks, oddities, and problems with myself, with the people here and the food, the country....is their personality. The more I have traveled around here, I am getting that the cool part is not the relocation, it is seeing the repetition. That people everywhere are good, and that everyone and everything, despite their quirks seems to be looking for the same thing. I love getting to experience the things I have, but I also don't want to lose sight of how much I enjoy and learn from simply being around differnt people in a different place.

Just some thoughts. But in keeping with the chronological a bit here are a few things I've done recently that might get some elaboration soon:

• Misiones (Jesuit ruins), Iguazu National Park, and visiting the Guarani Indians...excursion with CEA and a really amazing weeking in a different part of the country
• Bariloche and El Bolson: My favorite places in Argentina so far - amazing Andes mountains, hippie/ski city...best hostel in El Bolson with very cool people...known for their homeade chocolate, beer, and one of the most visited areas in Patagonia

It's been more than a month now, and I'm still enjoying the ride. Up's and downs, slower days and ones I will never forget. Can't wait to see what the rest of this trip will bring!