200 años

We had been lazy all day. Worthless, actually. As Andrea and I moped around, still in our PJ's and 4pm crept up...I was determined to get out the door. Although my still droopy eyes and tousled hair didn't portray it, I somehow convinced her that we had to get to 9 de Julio. "I hear there's food from every province!" was the convincing line. This is where we are really similar: our stomachs are the only reason we get out of the room on overcast days like this one.

Walking towards the Subte, I still felt a bit groggy. Keeping up with the nocturnal portenos had turned out to be more of a challenge than I thought. But it was the bicentenary, and 9 de Julio - the dedicated "party street" for this long weekend was only a few subway stops away. Things weren’t looking too hot as we failed to wake up on the walk to the station. But with the first rumble, huge WHOOSHHH of an especially on-time subte, and opening doors to open seats (this is a rare occurrence), things were looking up.

Our company was more entertaining than the normal after-office, keep-to-yourself crowd that usually packs the little compartments into warm, stale silence. They were your run of the mill teenage delinquents. Dreads, oversized jeans, and feverishly working on decorating their well-used decks with an oil marker. After a bit of showing off for us, including rolling some trash paper into a "blunt," they decided to chat with us. In english. Andrea took on my Alias, claiming to be from Kentucky to which one responded in a thick accent.."oh, I was born there!." To say the least, they made the ride a bit shorter and were a good change of company.

With a jolt, and another fresh breeze of air, the doors opened and we were there. Walking up the stairs into the early-evening air...being late May already it was obvious the colder months were approaching. 9 de Julio was bustling.

After some wandering, or rather, nearly crowd surfing through the ridiculously packed parade area, we decided to scout out the food I had heard so much about. The change in our attitudes upon the discovery of the food stands was comical. We joined the herds of hungry locals and tourists and began our push-shove crawl past each booth. Scotland, Armenia, Greece...I jumped up and down as I made the translations and realized which country we were approaching. After being denied much variety of food in this country, I was in heaven.

After a good block or two of straining to see what was offered, some hard decision making, and growling stomachs we were awake and had food in hand. We headed to the first break and joined the hoards of escapees on the side of the road, and sat down with our catch. Our menu included a falafel pita sandwich from the jewish stand, an almost neon yellow and very sweet peruvian soft drink called "Chola de Oro," and the most satisfying, piping hot, spicy seafood mixture from the chilean stand called "Chupa de Mariscos." As we devoured the food and people watched - from the head to toe blue and white patriots, to the pot-smoking hippie parents with their kids - all of the corners of argentine culture seemed to walk right by us.

Too full to walk, we waddled down the street in search of dessert. Instead, we ended up at a concert playing famous artists from each of the provinces. The vibe was electric, and it seemed like things were picking up as it got later into the night. We squeezed ourselves into a decent position, front and center, and watched as a particularly energetic group came on. There is something to be said about Latin music and how the people move to it. All of a sudden, the clapping hands, swinging hips, and waving flags turned into a whirling circle of dance. No, not typical concert-in-the-park dance. These people had skill. It began with two elderly women, although their dancing did not reflect their age one bit. They were doing one of the traditional flag dances, holding their pieces of cloth, wrists making rapid figure eights. They kept strict eye contact with little grins, and glided past each other in various patterns always staying in the growing circle that we had become the perimeter of. It caught on quick. Apparently, every argentine over the age of 50 knows this dance because very quickly, others joined in.

Joining in the laughter and clapping, Andrea and I turned to watch the dancing as the momentum built. I was clapping, pushing my camera bag out of the way when all of a sudden, someone grabbed my wrist. The cutest old lady was pulling at me with surprising strength, and the next thing I knew, I was the youngest member of the dance circle. Faces swirled around mine as I tried not to trip everyone in the circle. I joined my new partner in face-to-face finger-snapping, side-passing, hip-swinging celebration. We danced through the song and as quickly as she had grabbed me, she disappeared into the crowd. As the new song began so did the real dancing. The new, faster paced music must have been queue for the men, because out of nowhere, there they came, legs flying. It looked like a mix between scottish highland dancing, square dancing, and salsa, but whatever it was..it was impressive! One man who was especially talented threw his sweater for us to hold as the music got faster and the dancing got better. The energy, culture, and general feel of it all was far better than any free concert I'd been to at home.

After a good amount of time at the concert, and giving our stomachs a rest, we hit the streets again in search of sweets. After sampling some of the creamiest dulce de leche we made an impulse buy of the largest container they had. We ran into our quick-legged friend there too and decided to all work our way back to the main plaza. After stopping for some armenian baklava and chatting with our new friend we decided to call it a night. As we kissed goodbye, we began the push back to the subte with the sounds of machu pichu flute music being performed in the background...but not before grabbing the last snack of the night: candied peanuts.

We got seats on the way back. Our stomachs were more than full. We were awake, although exhausted, and were smiling. I felt like I had just been thrust into the most cultural and unique events I'd experienced yet and couldn't have been happier about it. I closed my eyes, popped a peanut in my mouth, tapped my fingers to the music still playing in my head...and settled in for the ride.

Feliz cumple Argentina :)

Kelly Feinberg.

One of the best professors I have ever had. Her class was at 8am, 4 days a week and I think she is the only reason I passed the attendance. She was always smiling, had something interesting to say or show us, and more than anything - caring. She was young, spoke about her little boy Ori almost every class and wanted more than anything to see us succeed. That was obvious. I have her to thank for a lot, and much more than I think she ever knew.

She passed away last friday to a rare form of cancer. I will miss her dearly, and will always remember her as more than a teacher but a mentor and friend. RIP Kelly, you are loved and missed by many!

Back to reality...

To say the least, I am not ready to leave this place. All the time I hear other Americans talking about how it's been great but they think when the time comes, they will be ready to go home. I unfortunately, have not had that feeling. I woke up today with a sense of urgency, a horrible relaization that it is May 14th and I barely have over a month left here. I am still meeting people, discovering places, and I have this overwhelming sense that it will all be over soon. I am loving every minute of it but I think for my remaining time here I am going to try and do more, see more to really get to know this city. A lot of us have used the term "going back to reality" in reference to home but one of the best parts of being here is realizing this is my reality for now...so I'm going to take advantage of it as much as possible while I can :)

Words fall out of intruding mouths
poking eyes, judging while they sit
in their same lives,
wondering why you might
not want the same
comfy chair,
big desk,
nosy boss.

And when your mind is wavering
While your legs are aching
to stretch out
and your mind contemplates
the possibilities
of new smells, words that
ask the same questions
in a different tongue,

daydreaming
just thinking

you realize your steadfastness
is just as intuding,
pin-pricking,
immobile
as the stubborn thoughts
you claim to rise above.
So you do
what you must do



and run.

Skype-tastic

Despite the often horrible internet here, Skype has been a lifesaver. For anyone who doesn't know, Skype is basically just a free "phone call" from computer to computer...and an extra perc is if both parties have a webcam, you can see the person you're speaking to - as close to being face to face as you can get sitting in another country! Some of my more fun Skype experiences include watching the KY derby, watching the creation of some abstract art, seeing part of an Australian campus, having an original song performed for me to the tune of some mean guitar, and finally getting a clear call to a much missed amiga! Of course just chatting with everyone is always great too. There is some pretty cool technology out there, but Skype is officially my favorite travel accessory yet! Best of all it's free, easy to use and understand...just a quick download away. I actually just downloaded it to my flash so I can open it on any computer (Someone I met travelling shared this with me, thought it was a good idea!) So if you know we need to catch up, look me up and we'll set up a Skype date. :) Until then, Ciao y besos!

PS - for the latest version/download start here: http://www.skype.com/intl/en/home

University of Belgrano: how NOT to run a university

So I know that you are aware school is the least exciting aspect of this adventure (hence the lack of posts on it) but here's a quick blurb on why it is insanely frustrating somethimes - becasue even if you can't do anything about the problem, it still makes you feel better to know there are other people use common sense too.

At UB, we have attendance cards. You swipe it on any floor before your class to show you are there. Not so bad, right?

Wrong. There are a hundred little rules that makes actually attending as difficult as possible. When did simply attending class not count as attendance? Some rules so you have an idea: The day is split into three time blocks, so it its not the class that is recorded, it is the chunk of the day. So if you have 2 classes in one period, you swipe once. But if you have one class right after the other...but it happens to fall into the later time block, you swipe twice. If the class starts at 2pm, you have to swipe it then. Accidentally swipe at 1:59? Nope - you're absent. And then there's my favorite - if class is cancelled by the professor...you dont get to stay home, or avoid the 30+ minute commute. You still have to swipe. And on top of all of this, we have to find it out by ourselves the hard way. No warnings, info...nada.

None of this wouldn't be so bad if attendance wasn't required. But it is. You can only miss 25% which ends up being around 3-4 classes.

I am currently in an e-mail battle with my advisor after being curious and checking my attendance online. I just about screamed when I saw every class was below 40%. Not good. And more than that, NOT true!

I am NOT going to miss this.

Iguazu In Photos...because words cannot explain