Sunshine Christmas

Christmas was amazing! My friend Meg (who has now left me… miss you Meg!) and I went to Pinamar for three awesome days eating, drinking and indulging in incessant girl chat. It was completely fantastic. For Christmas Eve we toasted at a phenomenal restaurant on the beach, were given costumes and danced along with the masses in a swanky live music moment. We both managed to get sunburned, ate fried calamari numerous times and drank a copious amount of beer on the beach. Pretty much perfection. While I missed my family a tremendous amount, I really enjoyed celebrating an Argentine Christmas in the sun.

Getting out of the city was great for my mental health as well, and I’ve returned rejuvenated and enthusiastic. These are the moments that remind me why I’m here and why it’s amazing. In my last few months, I'm planning to make memories to hang onto for a lifetime.

Next year I’ll be so grateful to be with my family, but I’m sure I’ll be nostalgic for the beach as well!

Merry Christmas with Love

I want to be excited for the holidays. I really do. But you know what? I'm mostly just trying to ignore that it's Christmas. Actually, that's a fairly easy thing to do in Latin America since right now it's roasting hot and I'm wearing a mini-skirt and a tank top.

Can I also please note that Argentine Christmas trees are unusually ugly? I mean, they are tiny, poorly decorated and look completely out of place in the sunshine. The one in the foyer of my apartment building also only has 25% of his lights working and sometimes plays obnoxious Christmas music. I have a suspicion he's actually laughing at me.

Anyhoo, back to topic: I really can't complain too much since I've got a girlie get-away on the beach planned for Christmas. Instead of whimpering because I'm far far away, I'm attempting to focus on my current mantra: BEACH BEACH BEACH! It's hard to be homesick when you're sunbathing sipping a cocktail, right?

While I've got sunshine and a sexy tan this Christmas, next year I promise I'll be home. That's not a promise to my family or friends. It's a promise to me. My heart is aching for you. I can't wait to put my arms around you and hug you. I miss you all so very much.

Merry Christmas with love! xoxox

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving feast!

Food. You don't even realize it, but food constitutes a huge part of our lives and our culture. I mean, think about how much of the day we spend mowing down on munchies.

As expats, I notice that often it's a huge shock to relocate and suddenly be missing such a staple of daily life. What do I eat here, anyway? Part of moving to a new country is re-learning how to grocery shop, cook and snack in a foreign fashion. It's interesting to say the least, and more shocking than expected.

That said, now I can get to my point: this year having a very very American Thanksgiving truly warmed my heart. Food! Lots of it! The kind of food I love and miss: turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, sweet potato sides, and (this was my contribution) homemade salad dressing.

Stuffed Thanksgiving stomachs!

Apart from the magic comfort of delicious food; the camaraderie was exceptional. We were a little gang of lost rebels in a foreign land getting together and trying to replicate home for a moment. Forget that it was a Saturday and there was no cranberry sauce or whipped cream. We had pumpkin pie and turkey. That was beyond sufficient – in fact it bordered on brilliance. Also, I think that going “potluck” style: the act of cooking and each contributing to the party committed everyone. Americans, Britons and Argentines alike arrived proudly with their homemade plates ready to party. It turned out spectacular.

This Thanksgiving I’m grateful for good food, wonderful friends and big hearts that cross oceans. And I’ve already started preparing my mental list of all the things I am going to absolutely adore eating when I get home. It’s a growing list.

What food would you miss if you lived in Argentina? I bet you’d be surprised…
(who knew that I freaking love salad dressing so much?)

Seeking: A Permanent Life.

Personal growth is a fascinating evolution. It generally happens in a painful fashion and then you emerge on the other side and discover that you're slightly more adult and mature. But those painful experiences? Yeah, they really hurt.

Recently I've had an interesting mix of life magic brewing in my world. On one hand, I've grown tremendously since arriving in Argentina. I've built a life here: good job, great friends, cute little apartment: all the basics. Maybe not quite as comfy as my American life, but certainly what I would call successful.

On the other hand, I feel like after a year and a half this place is starting to wear on me. Lately I’ve begun to really miss "home" again. Maybe the cataclysmic event was yet another painful, failed romance. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I've accomplished what I came here to do. Maybe I'm just tired (this is not a city that sleeps). Maybe I just need a hug.

Regardless where the internal angst came from, independence has been kind of traumatic lately and I'm starting to just be exhausted by the difficulties of living in this culture. I miss the states. I miss my family. I miss normal time schedules. I miss being able to express myself without struggling though a foreign tongue.

I always feel like things are bittersweet here. When I build up my life, make new friends and expand my community here, there's a lurking impermanence about those accomplishments. I know that it's just temporary. I feel like I'm ready to start a permanent life. I want to make friends I can have for 10 years and settle in somewhere that I can truly call home long-term. Really, I'd say coming to that realization is progress for me. And if I listen to my heart, it's telling me it's time to head back.

Hopefully I'll return, and emerge on the other side of this adventure slightly more adult and self-actualized. It's scary, though. Going back means "starting over" and building an entirely new life once again: job hunt, house hunt and network building. None of those things are easy. But at least I'll get more hugs. xoxo

Gay Day!

Random, slightly refreshing and definitely interesting…


Saturday night I found myself at the Buenos Aires Gay Pride parade. United with thousands of other observers – some of them wearing rather interesting costumes – my lady friends and I watched the magic rainbow floats drift by. It was more or less a walking boliche (night club) and we were swept up in the dancing mass of people marching through the streets.

While I don’t really have strong opinions on the issue, I truly enjoy and find the few gay friends I have to be completely amazing humans. As an event, it was more than interesting. And the general ambiance: loud music, fun costumes and moving hips, made it a riot to participate.

Following the theme of the night, I went to my friend’s house for dinner, drank an unacceptable amount of beer and headed off to a gay club with a few fabulous gay fellows.

Hannah and I were two of maybe 5 girls in Glam – a gay bar packed full of gorgeous dancing men. It was super fun: we danced for hours without anyone caring and I was able to walk through the room without being groped nor propositioned. And there was even TP in the women’s bathroom. Like I said, kind of refreshing. Maybe I’ll become a regular. And I’ll definitely be hanging out with those crazy boys again. No one appreciates my glittery pinstripe pants like they do.

My daily commute.

Every day, on my way to work, I cross though Plaza de Mayo. It’s the center of the city: and home to some spectacular architecture. The Casa Rosada, Argentina's equivalent to the White House, sits in the center of the plaza, surrounded by gardens and picketers.

Daily commutes are pretty routine, and the grand majority of mornings I walk bleary-eyed to work without noticing anything extraordinary about my surroundings. However, on occasion I look up and am stunned by the splendor of the skyline: towering skyscrapers and adorned palaces.

Sometimes, I’m also accosted by demonstrations: one day people were wearing posters showing a photo of Obama with a drawn-on Hitler mustache, decorated with acid raindrops. I took one of their flyers in an attempt to understand the movement against “financial fascism” but I couldn’t figure out exactly why they had chosen that particular image. I’m thinking mostly shock value.

A couple weeks ago a beautiful commemorative piece of art appeared: a big metal frame with dangling white crosses covered in flowers. It was a tribute to the lives lost in the Guerra de las Islas Malvinas. An absolutely moving piece.



There are days I miss commuting to work in my car. Yet other days I definitely appreciate the reality of walking to work: feeling, seeing, smelling and experiencing my routine in a way I just never did as a comfy cozy American.

Other things I do when I'm sick.

While sick I decided to be productive. Besides, a new apartment just begs for a little decorating. Presenting my art:

I'm sick and making lists.

Things I miss about the United States

1. My family and friends: people who’ve known me for years.
2. What I consider to be "normal" hours for living, working
   and playing.
3. Reliability: a plan is a plan and it happens on time.
4. Dating as something to be taken seriously.
5. Salad dressing, Mexican food and big cups of coffee.
6. Clean streets, clean cities, clean people: cleanliness.
7. Owning a car and not being required to use public transportation.
8. Wearing high heels and having flat surfaces to walk on.
9. How polite and professional people tend to be.
10. Financial stability and a reliable currency: making dollars.

Things I heart about Argentina

1. How easy it is to make amazing friends here.
2. Independence and solitude: my life is so very mine.
3. An interesting job that challenges me personally and professionally.
4. Discovering the world in Spanish – little accomplishments happen every day. Like a remix of my worldview.
   
5. Sitting and talking over coffee for two hours without glancing at my watch.
6. That no one cares if you’re late… in fact it’s odd if you’re on time. Especially for work.
   
7. The incredible sweets: facturas and dulce de leche? Mmmm…
8. Walking everywhere and truly experiencing the weather.
   
9. The up-front, frank Argentine way of relating to the world.
10. That people want to chat with me because I’m unique here and I talk funny.

New Chapter: Ridiculoso!

I feel like since arriving in Buenos Aires I’ve lived four or five distinct chapters. Every few months I end up with a new group of friends, a crazy new project, a big move or a romantic disaster. Once again, this month I’ve managed to tip my little world upside down and I’m embarking on yet another new chapter.

This time the setting is the new and upgraded apartment in Barrio Norte/Recoleta. It’s a busy spot in the city – faulting the trees that populated my street in Caballito – but it’s incredibly convenient. I can hop on a bus or the subway and be to work in 30 minutes. Phenomenal!

The apartment also comes complete with a set of four solid walls, my own little bathroom, lots of great storage, a terrace, a black cat named Bruja and a fabulous new roommate named Ali (featured below). I’ve ended my permanent camping situation and I’m more or less in love (it even has a microwave!).


Along with a new location, I’ve begun making lots of effort to replace my girlfriends who mercilessly left me here a few months ago. As a result I’ve discovered some new and amazing ladies for adventure hunting. I’m also seeing an Argentine who is about the sweetest human being on the planet and is keeping a smile on my face. We’ll just have to see how that goes before I tell you more stories about him.

And the big announcement:

I’ve decided to change the name of my blog to “Ridiculoso.”
This is a word that I invented.

The real translation for “that’s completely ridiculous” is “es completemente ridiculo!” but I always want to add an extra syllable to “ridiculo” and thus this has become my signature error. As an invented word, it just works… and I think with all the ups, downs and craziness of the last year it’s an appropriate title for my self-musings!

An Expensive Accent

My last a post was about how lovely life can be... but today I’m going to post a rant about this stinkin’ country and how everyone is always trying to rip off foreigners. Really! Taking advantage is an Argentine specialty.

I am moving soon, so I need to arrange for a little moving truck to come get my bed and my small collection of possessions and take them to the new apartment. So I called a moving company close to my house to ask about prices. They quoted me $400 pesos for the move – which I knew was ridiculous. I asked the lady on the phone, “What exactly does that price include?” and she was like, “Oh, don’t worry! Everything! We’ll send three people and move everything.” What? Three people to move a bed? $400 pesos for an hour or two of work? You have to be kidding me. She refused to give me an explanation of the the pricing breakdown – no, that was just the price.

So I asked my male Argentine co-worker to call. For him, the price was $40 pesos an hour for the truck, $18 pesos an hour for workers to help move (he was able to request just one) and $3 pesos for a flight of stairs. Yup, grand total will be under $150 pesos.

Sorry, but that just makes me mad. So I’ve got an accent. That doesn’t mean that a) I’m rich, nor b) I’m an idiot. I can communicate perfectly fine in Spanish: I understood everything said to me on the phone, and that stupid woman understood everything I said, even if it included a couple grammatical errors. I’ve been here long enough that this treatment is simply infuriating, for crying out loud!

It’s a well-known fact the Argentines love to “aprovechar” or take advantage of us foreigners. What makes me mad is that I’m not running around with dollars: I’m as poor as any of them are. Apparently I've just got an expensive accent.

Oh, yeah, THIS is why I'm here.

Yesterday I felt like I was on vacation. One of those magic, happy little moments when contentment was tangible, sitting in my stomach like a piece of delicious chocolate cake. This city wears me out sometimes, and it’s so gratifying to have a joyful expat experience and remember why I’m here: it’s all about discovering new experiences.

First of all, I found an apartment! What an incredible relief. After running all over the city and responding to a hundred ads, I found a spot that’s going to be a definite upgrade. It’s very centrally located, so I’ll cut way down on my commute to work and the travel time to go out with friends. I’m closer to everything that I like to do here in Buenos Aires. It’s with just one roommate instead of two and the department is much bigger. It’s located on a busy street, but it’s an internal apartment, so it’s quiet and mellow. I have a giant room with my own bathroom and big sliding glass doors that open onto a quaint little terrace (I’ve got a vision of myself laying out in the sun and finally getting a tan, haha!). I’ll be making the move over the next two weeks. It will be nice to change location – there’s always a sense of a little fresh start and a new chapter with a move.

I also joined the couchsurfing network, which is a cool program including an active social group here in Buenos Aires. We did an empanada event yesterday and I learned how to make the most signature of all Argentine foods. I’m still not a pro at folding the little edges of the empanadas, but I’m going to have to practice and aim for perfection, jaja! I also met people from all over the world: the US, England, Australia, Argentina (of course) and enjoyed chatting away and making new friends.

Then to celebrate the new apartment, I went out with a good friend, Greg, who is in town right now visiting. We had a delicious steak dinner and went out dancing afterward at Kika. Love that club. I have to say my favorite part is that they’ve got a well-ventilated dance floor so you don’t sweat to death and suffocate. It was a blast!

Yes, my Saturday was a vacation. Quite lovely. Tonight I’m going to go and learn how to play “Truco” the Argentine card game based on lying and tricking your opponents. Should be a good time, and I love cards.

Cheers to a new chapter, new friends and the magic Argentina can offer on a sunny day.

Update from my Concrete Jungle

I’ve been a bad blog owner and not written for far too long. So much has been happening – I feel like life is just a whirlwind right now. First I had my fabulous friend Lisa come and visit me and she and I trekked all over the city playing tourist. It was marvelous to have her here and get to chat girl talk. A little piece of home.

The ladies going out for the night: Meg, who also has made Argentina her home, me, Devon (who is leaving soon, so sad) and my visitor Lisa!

Right now I’m back to “real life” again: running all over the city trying to find a new apartment. It’s a little complicated, since renting a place in Argentina is not the easiest task. Renting like an Argentine is difficult, since you have to a) sign a lease for 2 years and b) need a “guarantor” or someone who owns property in Argentina be your co-signer. I was able to talk my work into being the guarantor and explored the offerings, but it is simply too big of an expense for my budget. First you have to pay the Immobiliaria, or rental agency, two months commission and then you also have to put down a one-month deposit. If you break your lease after a year, you loose the deposit and if you break it after six months, you have to pay an additional half month rent. Whoa. Top that off with the need to furnish a place, and it just ended up being a) too big of a commitment (I don’t know if I can love you for two more years, Argentina) and b) way out of my price range.

So I’m stuck doing what we foreigners do here: renting a furnished room in someone else’s apartment. You’re going to laugh: the main source for a roommate hunt here is Craigslist! They’re expensive, though – especially compared to my Argentine salary. It’s a challenge: I earn like an Argentine but I’m getting smacked with foreigner prices. Which means house hunting is a daunting task requiring lots of emails, phone calls and visits running all over the city. While I’d love to stay in my neighborhood, there doesn’t seem to be anything here. I did find one apartment I like and requested the room, but I’m waiting to hear back to see if I’ll get it.

Let me tell you that living in Argentina is not American-style comfortable. We’re talking about ancient buildings (swarming with broken paraphernalia), old furniture and a creepy roommate selection. While I did find a pretty good spot with a charming Argentine roommie, we can’t call it perfection. It’s all about deciding what’s most important and just how much you can compromise on the other items. I picked privacy and independence, so we’ll see just what I end up with.

That’s my little update! Living in the concrete jungle and trying to survive. I promise to adore my air conditioner even more when I get home. This experience has certainly taught me to appreciate how lovely we’ve got it as Americans (despite the political mess I hear is happening up there in my home country right now).

Besos! Hopefully I’ll be posting good news soon!

Connected

After months of problems, we finally have the WiFi working at our house again! I’m truly excited and can’t believe I’ve been disconnected for so long. It really makes me appreciate this “modern” technology that we have. No WiFi meant no chats with friends and fam, and made me realize just how far away I am. It’s miraculous that an internet connection can bring me so much closer to the ones I love and adore.

I’ll be posting regular blogs again, and hopefully talking to all the people I miss back in the states again soon. Hugs, kisses, love and all those pink and blue happy thoughts. Beso!

Argentine Medicine: The curiosity and the trauma.

Classic Argentine gestures indicating:
Frustration, Ridiculousness and Watch Out!

It turns out that I’m still alive… but I haven’t written for a long time due to lack of internet and an evil lingering cold that I’ve been fighting the last two months. Don’t think I haven’t been occupied, though. I’ve been enjoying the Argentine healthcare system (this is that moment where I wish sarcasm actually translated via blogs, jaja!). Here’s what I’ve got for you:

Maybe I’m a bit nervous to begin with, but it’s been a little traumatic trying to navigate Argentine medicine. Let’s start with the good news: I have absolutely amazing medical insurance. Everything has been completely free, and that’s phenomenal. I suppose I can’t really complain too much considering the above-mentioned detail, but I’m going to anyway.

We’ll start with routine medical care. As soon as I got insurance, I scheduled a regular doctor visit and just picked a clinic conveniently located next to my house. I should have known better: Randomly picking a doctor in any country is a bad idea. So I found myself in a dirty, old clinic waiting next to howling children for hours. Finally, I was called into my new doctor’s office—and he was impressively old. I mean, people that old don’t normally leave their beds in the morning, let alone practice medicine. As much as I’d love to adopt him as my new grandfather, his medical advice was far past expiration date and I think I’ll continue shopping around.

Going to the gynecologist, on the other hand, was a lovely experience. I got a cute, chatty porteña who told me to drop my panties and began the routine items we ladies are all used to. The only odd detail: instead of her keeping my cultures, she gave them to me to carry to the laboratory nearby. While I did my best to keep them safe in my giant purse, I couldn’t help thinking that in the US we’d be a little concerned about contamination. However, I liked her enough I’m not going to whine too much.

As I mentioned, I’ve also been sick. In fact, I’ve been really sick. For a long time. After developing a stuffy nose and a cough for the third time in the last two months I decided I wanted some good drugs and asked my co-workers what they do when they’re sick. Apparently here you don’t go visit your doctor for a cold; instead you have two options: (a) either “order-in” and a doctor will come to your house or (b) go to the emergency room. While option (a) sounds convenient, there’s a 48-hour window so if you’re like me and can’t stay in your house for 48 consecutive hours, you’re left with option (b).

My first ancient practioner experience demonstrated that random point-and-choose isn't the best technique for choosing a medical facility, so I asked around and ended up in an ER my friend recommended. It was filled with stuffy noses, appalling coughs and all other manner of strange afflictions. After waiting an hour and a half the youngest little doctor I have ever seen called me into a back room where I timidly purched on the edge of a cot, next to a convulsing man. While she tried to figure out how to turn on the light to look at my throat, I described my on-and-off illness and told her I was worried that I might have some problem that I couldn’t shake with my own immune system. She nodded gravely and then told me we were going to do some tests.

Armed with little slips of paper, I ventured off, asking directions to different sections of the hospital. First, I had a throat culture to verify I didn’t have strep throat (this seems normal enough). Next, I wandered downstairs… for x-rays? Since they’re called “ecolograms” here I didn’t actually realize that’s what I was getting into. Interestingly enough, I’ve never had anyone x-ray me for a sore throat and a cough before, but apparently in Argentina they need to see your skull to diagnose a cold. The x-ray technician was a young kid with a euro-mullet who began hitting on me shamelessly. “Please put your arms over your head, stand sideways, and by the way, do you have a boyfriend?” When we were done he let me know that my photos had turned out absolutely beautiful and that he had all my information “except your phone number!” I coughed and gave him my loveliest sick-face smile.

Returning to the main floor clutching my sexy x-rays and throat culture results, I began searching for my little tiny doctor. Apparently, she was done for the day. Instead, I was attended to by another young male doctor. Unfortunately, this one wasn’t charmed and didn’t want my phone number. Instead, he seemed infuriated by my inability to speak quickly. Due to the masses of people waiting, he was obviously in a hurry. At this point I had been there about three hours, I felt awful and I had a doctor huffing at me as I attempted to explain, in my nervous Spanish, why I was in his office. So I did something really productive: I started crying. The doctor didn’t care: in fact, he seemed even more irritated. How dare I cry when he had other people to attend to? He glanced at my x-rays, ordered me to breath, listened to my chest, prescribed me some allergy medicine and ceremoniously shoved me out the door. Three pharmacies later I finally managed to purchase my medicine and headed home on the bus with my x-ray souvenirs. Maybe next time I’ll try option (a).

This week I was also privileged enough to experience even more interesting Argentine medicine. My first ancient doctor had ordered blood tests and my lovely gynecologist informed me that uterus ultrasounds are a routine part of feminine healthcare. So Thursday morning I found myself in a bustling laboratory, with a urine sample in my purse, prepared for uncomfortable poking and prodding.

Actually, I have to say that the uterus ultrasound is a good idea since often feminine maladies aren’t discovered until you’ve got a serious problem. It was incredibly painless (although I couldn’t help but giggle like a 15 year-old when she put a lubricated condom on a wand and stuck it up my vagina) and I even got to see my special lady parts on TV. I left with more souvenir photos—even sexier than the chest x-rays! I get to go back for the blood test results in a few days and then I can schedule my follow-up visits…

It seems like the entire medical experience is not just the system, or the insurance, or the practitioner… but also a bit of random luck. At first I was feeling terrified by the whole experience, but I have to admit that my fear has morphed into curiosity as I’ve discovered they do so many odd new little things here. I suppose there are good and bad doctors everywhere… and getting all of the routine items checked off is a pain no matter where you live.

Next up? The dentist. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Salvation Soup

I’m sick. You know that kind of sick where your head feels like it’s full of cotton balls and mucus? That’s me. Today at work I nearly burst into tears because someone was singing loudly. Obviously a sign I needed to go home.

Leaving work I briefly considered the option of taking a taxi, but decided that the bus was a better option and I trudged to the bus stop. Except there was no bus. I grumpily walked to the subte stop… and there was no subte. Apparently there’s a giant demonstration happening in the city center (where I work) which I was completely unaware of. This left me no choice but to hail a cab, except – where to find one? I spent about 20 minutes wandering up and down a maze of streets, drums and picketers before I finally encountered a taxi headed in my direction. I climbed into the cab and ceremoniously burst into tears. The taxi driver was more than generous, and once I was capable of speaking again we discussed the desperation that public transportation can produce. I arrived home in one (slightly tattered) piece.

Walking into my home, I was met with a giant smile and a big hug. Is there anything better than that? My roommie Natalia had just made the most aromatic, delicious pot of vegetable soup and we sat down and ate a warm, comforting lunch together. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for a bowl of soup before in my life. It was like drinking salvation.

I definitely still feel sick, but it's amazing how a little bit of love can completely turn around an awful day. Here’s to winter, being sick, cold toes, stupid protests, taxi drivers, hot soup and above all, good friends.

My coffee is bubbling and it speaks Spanish.

Why is it that somedays I just don’t know? I don’t know what I want, I can’t figure out how I feel: decisions are illusive concepts floating just above the reach of my mental capacity. For some reason I think Argentina exaggerates this. I feel things more strongly, I take them more seriously – I am hit in the face by the most random, abstract little moments of what should be considered normalcy and then I’m confused.

And let’s not even talk about boys. That’s what I’m doing up at 4am: worrying about the “what-if’s” of the improbable. Dating in Argentina is like waking up one morning and discovering that when you pour your normal cup of morning coffee it starts bubbling and speaking Spanish. And you think, “WTF! I am SO not awake enough for this nonsense. I’m going back to bed. Wake me up when the coffee is drinkable.”

Ok, so I’m awake. I guess I’m just not prepared. You’d think that after being single for a couple years I’d be competent enough to go on a few dates and not be left laying awake all night chewing them through my tired little mind. No! That’s apparently not how it works. Apparently I’m still 16 inside when it comes to men. Except now I’ve got a healthy dose of cynicism to add to the mix. That’s probably why the coffee is bubbling. Why is it speaking Spanish? Obvio: that’s the Argentine factor.

I’m going to go kick something and try to go back to sleep now.

Oh baby, it's COLD outside!

It getting really, really cold here. Last year I arrived in the middle of winter, but I lived in places with central heating so my home was always warm. This year it’s a bit different. With the open roof and the paper-thin walls I’m discovering a new meaning for “chilly.”

November, 2007: pre-Argentina.
These are the people I want to be warm with. Miss you guys!!

Argentina makes me realize just how cushy my American life was. I miss my cozy, warm car. I miss not having to walk 15 blocks in the rain to work. I miss having central heating at home and at work.

This big, cold concrete city is teaching me how to be a little more resilient. There are so many things here that are just not easy the way things were in the states. I’ve learned to budget and live on a pittance of what I used to make in Cali. I’ve learned how to communicate in another language - personally and professionally - and simply refuse to give up even when no one understands me and I look like an idiot! I’ve figured out how to navigate a giant city without a car. I’ve learned to tolerate being pushed and shoved on buses and subways and in stores and in lines. I’ve discovered patience while waiting for 15 hours in a government office. I’ve learned how to be truly alone and appreciate my independence.

That’s just the way it is here. And, well, maybe I’m a little stubborn too. There is a part of me that relishes the daily challenges and feels life is sometimes more valuable when you have to work hard for it.

Other days I just don’t feel so tough. On these days I miss my cozy, warm, cushy little American life. I have to admit at the moment I’d really love to crawl into my car and drive home and curl up in front of the fireplace with the people I love. I suppose I’ll have to content myself with a cup of hot coffee and Skype for now. And when I make it back some day, you better believe I’ll appreciate those little comforts in an entirely new way.

Ruda Must Live!

Lately it's started to get cold at my house. We have a small table covered with struggling little plants. Since I’m a bit of an "indoor gardener" I am genuinely concerned about the survival of our tiny green friends. One, in particular, seems to be close to the end of his little plant life. He has sad, dry, shrunken little leaves. His name is Ruda.

Personally, I think Ruda’s sad state is a result of my roommie, Nati’s good intentions: immediately after purchasing him she decided to relocate Ruda to a rather large clay pot. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to root in well before the cold hit.

However, Nati she has a completely different theory. Ruda plants are said to have the power to absorb energy in a home. You are supposed to place them at the door of your house to suck up all the negative vibes. If the leaves get dry and it wilts, it means there is an overabundance of bad energy in your home. According to my Nati, our neighbors are spawning evil energy and therefore the plant is dying. In fact, the current Ruda is a replacement for a previous version who met a similar fate: it shriveled all up and died. I thought it was due to the fuzzy white bugs growing on it's leaves but according to Nati there's evil energy somewhere in our building.

I've always loved houseplants because they do have a bit of personality. Plants appear to be just "objects" but if you get to know them you discover they have personalities, they respond to attention, they love it if you talk to them, they appreciate sun and fertilizer and other little plant treats. Apparently, Ruda is sacrificing his tiny plant life for us by keeping our house warm and loving. He’s protecting and saving us.

Regardless of if it’s an untimely re-potting or an abundance of negative energy, I'm worried about the little guy. I want him to live. I want him to be happy. Somehow it seems so symbolic and sweet, and while my logical brain knows the rational explanation for plant troubles, my heart reaches out to Ruda’s little fight for the joy in our home.

Saying Goodbye and Starting Over

This was a sad week. Two of my girlfriends left, and my best friend, Natalie is leaving next week. So my recent activities included moping and good-bye parties. Top that with some male rejection and I’m left feeling a bit blue.

I suppose that it’s just the life of a foreigner, but this is the third time I’m “starting over” with friends. The problem is we are all transient: we’ll all leave eventually; even me. The Argentines know that! They don’t want to get too attached to us either.

Here’s the rainbow, though: I’m getting better at making new friends. That’s never been a personal strong point but this year has definitely forced me to be proactive about cultivating relationships, especially with other females. It’s amazing how effective a smile and a couple text messages can be. The people I’ve met here in Buenos Aires are all so interesting: everyone arrives with a story and a sparkle to them. The average escaping American I meet here is much higher caliber than the average person I meet in the US. While I’m lamenting the fact that my friends are leaving, I feel lucky to have met them, since they’ve each enriched my life in so many ways.

Someday I do have a desire to settle into a city and simply stay. Develop a network of close friends that I can keep for years. True intimacy doesn’t happen overnight, and I deeply miss the people who are close to my heart. For the time being, though, I’m planning to direct my energy into meeting more permanent friends… foreigners and Argentines… and maybe “starting over” won’t be so bad. I’m sure each person will contribute their own personal magic for a journey of discovery and hopefully a little adventure too!

New Bed! (Happy Dance)

Stitch loves our new bed too.

I bought a new bed; I'm completely ecstatic! It is my first large purchase in Argentina and I think it might mean I'm settling in a little bit. I'll have to stick around long enough to get some use out of it :)

A bed was also completely necessary. The need for new sleeping accommodations became obvious a couple weeks ago when the old bed ceremoniously crashed to the ground with a frightening thump. Not only did that scare me, but I began wondering if it was time for a diet?! Anyhoo, I did a janky repair job which left me sleeping tilted downwards and to the left. I've been reluctant to actually go make a big new purchase since I'm not 100% sure about housing and living at the moment, but the dreams of sliding down walls, hills, and mountains slowly convinced me.

Bed shopping was in and of itself an interesting experience. I trekked all over the city and peeked my head into a myriad of different stores. This confirmed the absolutely appalling customer service that is often found in Argentina. A bed is a fairly large purchase; you'd think SOMEONE would want to help me. Sheesh. Most stores only have a couple different options, so I had to visit to quite a few places in order to encounter any selection. Finally, I found a decent store and had fun laying all over beds and hearing about springs in Spanish.

I thought I actually had made a decision, when I was wandering through my neighborhood and I saw THE store. I'm not sure why it was THE store, but it was. I felt it the moment I saw the big, tacky green sign. The woman was magically helpful, engaged me in a rambling discussion about Obama and US politics, told me truly useful bed-related information and had an impressive selection. So I signed the little dotted line and they delivered it this morning.

I'm sitting in my new bed right now. It's needing some new throw pillows, but that's besides the point. It's glorious, it's marvelous; I LOVE it. Sweet dreams :)

Stop Searching: Find Peace

I was riding the subte today and I saw a big poster advertising a book… I don’t remember the exact title, but it basically said “stop searching, find peace.” I haven’t read this book, so I don’t really know what it’s about, but the title prompted pondering.

On one hand, they’re right. I identify with that statement: I find myself always thinking about the future, wondering about what’s next, dreaming, moving, wanting, waiting. I’ve got a busy head. I think about things (and obsess about things) and it keeps me mentally occupied (especially when I’m pondering life at 3am). I wouldn’t say it’s really “peaceful” inside my head. What if I really could stop searching? What if my head just stopped churning around and around and was quiet? That does sound kind of peaceful.

On the other hand, that also sounds suspiciously to me like an invitation to stop thinking and become stagnant. I think it can be easy to decide at some point that you simply accept your position in life, settle in and stop moving. That’s why people stay in dead-end jobs, boring towns, and bland relationships. They don’t have motivation to make changes. Life isn’t bad; it isn’t good. They’re peaceful. It just is.

I definitely believe there is value in being a peaceful person. It would be frightening if everyone’s head was full of the same thoughts as mine. I appreciate my calming, peaceful friends because I certainly need them.

However, I’m proud to be a searcher myself. I actually am grateful for my own discontent in many ways. It’s carried me to Argentina, it’s motivated me, it’s inspired me, and it keeps my head full of interesting things. It seems to me that depending on how you look at that particular characteristic, it can be either an incredible, motivating force or a difficult, frustrating feeling. For me, I’m grateful for my busy head (aside from those 3am moments) and I appreciate the thirst for improvement, the desire to discover, the search for meaning and interest.

I do hope to someday find a little place in the world and settle in. It would be nice to be more peaceful at some point, yet I don’t ever want to be complacent or stale. I never ever want to give up dreaming, thinking, pondering. To me those items are far too valuable, even if they cost me some sleep.

Life is like Step Aerobics (I'm serious!)

Yesterday I went to step aerobics, at my gym: the ostentatious Megatlon. I’ve been attending this class since about January. On my first day I stood there helplessly watching whirling Argentines dance around me. Background: I’ve been doing step aerobics for about 13 years now. I generally don’t claim to be good a physical activities (especially not sports-related activities) however I’m good at step aerobics. In the US I can walk into a class and generally follow it. I managed to accomplish step classes in Spain. I was expecting Argentina to be similar… but it’s not.

Step aerobics here involves hip movement, rhythm, coordination and multiple dizzying turns and twists. Also, no one calls out the movements for you. Sorry, honey, but you’ve got to just remember them all. You get combo numbers: an “Uno!” or a “Dos!” or a “Tres!” screamed and you better know what to do.

The best thing about the step classes, though, is the comradery. Although I might not be the best stepper, I’m part of a group that doesn’t require me to speak. For that little moment, I’m equal with all the other tripping, twirling, gyrating Argentines. Another lovely thing about step class is that Argentines also cheer for their step instructor (Claudio) when he does something interesting. It’s phenomenal. Little twist, new, cool step and you’ve got clapping and “eehhh!!”

I started out pretty awful at Argentine step aerobics. But I’m getting better. Each class I manage to turn just a few more times (in the right direction) and I am able to bumble my way to the end now (more or less).

So why am I blogging about step aerobics, anyhoo? Because in order to get a combination right, you have to just keep trying. You get it wrong the first time. You try again. You miss a step, skip it and try to jump back in where you can. Maybe I missed the entire combo “Uno!” but I recognized the first few steps of “Dos!” and I’m back in the game again. And each time I stumble my way through a combo, I do something just a little more right. Maybe I forget a few steps, but I’ll catch up if I just keep going. The important part is to not give up; don’t stop trying; don’t stop moving. Because as soon as you stand still: that’s it. You’ll never get it right.

Life is like that. My entire Argentine experience is like that. You just keep trying. You make so many mistakes, but the only way to move forward is to keep moving, keep trying and not get stuck on the error. If you stand still, that’s it: You’ll never get it right. Who knows? You might actually start enjoying it. Eeehh!

Bad Spanish Day

Yes, that’s what I said. A bad Spanish day. These things happen. It’s part of the expat life...

I was trying to explain a relatively simple request at work and I had a confused Argentine looking at me like I had horns growing out of my ears. Thankfully, someone else understood, but remarked that the reason my first request was unsuccessful was because I had asked in a slightly idiotic way. At which point I wanted to throw something at someone’s head. Both men were appealing targets.

I’m irritated. Seriously, every day I try all day long to get people to understand me. I subject myself to being criticized, stared at, laughed at, embarrassed and ignored. EVERY DAY.

This particular day, today, I’m just a little frustrated. It’s all making me tired. I’m feeling like my desire to keep making an effort is running a bit dry. Guess what, though? I’m gonna wake up tomorrow and give it another go. And if I keep trying long enough maybe someday I’ll be able to express myself in a fabulously eloquent manner and people will marvel at what a clever, charming, intelligent woman I am. Or maybe they just won’t laugh at me. I’ll take either scenario.

Gallivanting About

Home. After a few weeks of big adventures, I’ve finally settled back into my home. It’s kind of amazing that this strange little spot carries that label for me, but absolutely true. I love taking a vacation and feeling grateful to return home. That’s how you know it was a good break: you create fabulous memories and have wonderful experiences and you distance yourself just enough from “real life” that you can return and actually want to do it again.

So what was I up to anyway? Well…

Parents

My parents came to visit for 3 weeks. We walked a lot, we talked a lot, and we really ate a lot. It was phenomenal to have the opportunity to share my little home with them. My expat life is very different, and I loved showing it off. Now they understand when I talk about how ham is a condiment in Argentina and the taxi drivers are crazy and they play bad 80’s music and my shoes have holes in them.

Iguazu

Gorgeous, spectacular waterfalls. Despite sweltering weather and a snooty hotel the falls were amazing and I will never forget the views. Really, I don’t think I can describe it, so I’ll just say WOW!

Cariló

This could be my favorite part of the whole trip. We spent 3 days being lazy and content at a quaint little seaside village. They had pine trees, phenomenal shopping and crisp ocean air. Dad learned how to use an Argentine bar-b-que and we sat around playing cards and chatting. That weekend is a memory I can cuddle up with on rainy cold lonely days: those moments hold warmth and love for me.

Buenos Aires, of course!

Where do I even start? Browsing street vendors at the fair in San Telmo, wandering through the vast Recoleta Cemetery, peeking into museums, walking through Palermo’s gardens, Mom getting an eye infection and wearing a patch, having trouble finding apartments, finally finding something perfect, shopping, eating, laughing, drinking. And now they know. This is my home: big, rowdy, chic, bustling and always interesting.

Who’s next? Come visit me!

Día Internacional de la Mujer

Today is the International Day of the Woman. Despite the progressive nature of my country, darling America, you forgot this one. The United Nations recognizes it! An important holiday!

I've been rather curious to discover why we women have a special holiday. What exactly are we celebrating here? It's a day to honor the historic struggle of women to gain equality and respect. I like that.

Next question: What do the Argentines DO to celebrate the day of the woman? Apparently, since I'm female my husband/boyfriend should bring me flowers and cook me dinner. Unfortunately I don't have a husband/boyfriend. Therefore, I can't celebrate? I'm a little confused. This is only a holiday if you have a significant other? Why on earth does the Day of the Woman require I have a MAN to celebrate? I find that infuriating.

Alternative solution: I think during Dia de la Mujer all the women should ditch their men and meet in the parks to drink mate, eat chocolate and gossip about girlieness such as hair, nails and how we really feel. I like this idea so much better. That would be a real celebration of femininity.

Maybe I'll start my own chocolate-eating holiday.

Here to Stay

Today I checked my email and there was a letter from Continental Airlines reminding me to check in for my flight. Yes, that's right. I have a flight leaving Buenos Aires in an hour. And here I am, in my little apartment writing a blog instead. I'm not going home. I'm staying here. I have absolutely no plans to leave.

It was one of those odd moments when I saw the email from Continental. Like vaugly remembering that it's the birthday of your ex-boyfriend. Almost important. Not quite.

I suppose that means I'm here to stay. This better be fun! And well, if not... it's going to be a hell of a story someday.

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head...

This is my roof. Well-ventilated.

Last night it was pouring down rain. Amazing, beautiful, strange rain. How is it possible that it's raining, horribly humid and hot at the same time? No, but it was spectacular because I have a plastic roof. I'm not kidding. It leaks a little, but I don't mind raindrops on my head so much. You just need to know which chair *not* to sit in. I mean, I know I've talked about my roof before (because it opens and closes and that's simply weird!) but I haven't mentioned how it SOUNDS yet. It was so loud that I had to yell to talk to my roommate. And I fell asleep listening to that fabulous sound. Today it was sunny. I'm feeling love for Argentina. (Except for the part where I couldn't round up enough monedas to take the bus. But that's a whole other story entirely.)

Sleepytime Pondering

Sometimes I feel so anonymous in this big city. Riding the subte or a bus, I look around and see countless faces. So many people look so tired. They have worn lines on their faces, left from years of worry, remnants of the events they've survived. People stare vacantly at the wall, squished together uncomfortably. There's really nothing else to look at.

You could look at the person next to you, but that's sort of rude. You really can't help it, though. Looking around, suddenly you realize the crowd actually consists of unique individual people. Sometimes people smile and laugh together, couples cuddle and kiss, children cling to their mother's hands. There are small people and big people. People with gorgeous hair and thin straggly hair. Women wearing stilettos and men in crumpled button-downs. There are beautiful people with smooth Argentine skin and then there are people who are ugly people with crooked teeth and disheveled clothing. And you realize that you're just one of the masses. Throngs of people enter and exit, and if you don't bother to look close, well, they're just more people. They smell, they breathe, they move slowly along, trying to claim their tiny little places.

The other day I watched an itty bitty girl attempting to eat potato chips out of a bag. She could have tipped the bag and they would have fallen into her hand. Instead, reached into the bag to grab them, but it was too small for her hand so she spent inordinate amounts of time claiming each individual chip. She had a small round face and a flouncy red jumper. I watched, mesmerized by the awkward chip ritual, until her mother finally grabbed her roughly by the hand and dragged her off the subte, hand still stuck in the plastic. Today I watched a couple coddle together, the man whispering into the woman's ear as she giggled coyly and rubbed his leg. Yesterday I saw an obviously drunk group of boys; one of them with his head between his knees as his friends teased him mercilessly. I saw a woman wearing a neon paisley-print leotard on the way to the gym, her long manicured nails curled around the handle of a designer duffel bag. I saw an old woman distractingly gazing at me this morning, her eyes empty and her brown skin wrinkled and worn. They're just people. Lots of them.

Walking down the broken, littered streets here you doge the most stunning array of humanity. The lost tourists, the dusty obnoxious workers, the smartly suited business men, the chattering group of teenagers all jostling for a place on the narrow sidewalk. It exhausts me.

I have a student who is tired. He's been living in this big city for 15 years and he doesn't like it. His life isn't bad at all. In fact it's pretty good. He's successful, he lives in a beautiful house, he drives a nice car. Yet he's not happy; something is missing for him. I think that this city has just worn him down year after year and he can't escape. How many people live mediocre lives that simply aren't bad enough to risk changing? I often think that people walk around like zombies, repeating the same monotonous routine every day without noticing. It's just their lives. It's just how it is.

I wonder what people see when they look at me. If they even notice at all? They can't see my story. They probably don't know I've come thousands of miles to join them in their big city. I'm just one more person. Not incredible in any way, just one more person.

It strikes me that we all need to belong. We need to be wanted. Being just one of the hundreds of thousands of bodies wandering Buenos Aires isn't enough. The reason people find meaning and purpose is because someone somewhere cares about them and believes they're important. My student continues every day because he has a family: a wife and two daughters. They're his world; they make his life beautiful.

It's late at night and I can't sleep. I feel like just a little empty dot; one more little person living her little life. Thankfully, I do have people who love me and care about me. I just wish they weren't so very far away.

2009: Stability and Progress

Well, it's been awhile since I've posted a blog and a lot has been happening in my little life! The holidays came and went and I have to admit I'm a little relieved it's over now. I definitely missed home and family. Layne left right before Christmas and I can't stop missing her and then all my other friends promptly went out of town. However I managed to enjoy all the good little moments, although it didn't really feel like Christmas sweating in the sun, eating bar-b-que asado and watching fireworks. New Year's ended up being phenomenal: I went to a big banquet dinner at a club here in town and danced the night away in too-high painful heels (which looked hot, btw!) with my roommate Natalia.

I'm really loving my new apartment, specifically because of my awesome roommates. Natalia is precious, and Lucia is amazing too. They're both Argentine and only speak Spanish so I'm finally getting some good language practice. We also have an unusual wheezing cat named Oscar. He's got cat AIDS and is only about half alive and has no hair (I'm not kidding). I'm a little scared of him but we've manage to establish an unspoken agreement that if he doesn't get on my bed I'll feed him. The building itself is absolutely ancient, everything leaks, and I've got a living room/dining room/patio that is "open air" with a ceiling that opens and shuts. Sort of strange but also charming in a rustic way. My room is huge and I've done some creative decorating to make it mine. I nailed tree branches to my wall and hung all my jewelry on them and it turned out really cool. Wall art! I'll post pics soon but right now my laptop is on the fritz so I can't download all my recent photos. Hope to be getting that fixed soon! Although no computer has provided great motivation for some extra reading, and since all the books in our house are in Spanish it's been a fairly productive pastime.

My job is also evolving well. I started in the Customer Service department listening to lots of complaints and after my first 6 weeks have just received a promotion! I'm the New Projects Director now. The job is very well suited for me because it utilizes my talents: creative vision and organization. I'm coordinating the development of new websites from scratch. This means I get to invent the blueprint of the site, work with our designer to make it look gorgeous, work with our IT programmers to make it function and work with a team to generate all of the content. I'll be doing a lot of research and writing, but I'm most excited because I've got a lot of freedom to make the projects my own. It should be an excellent challenge and I'll be making a tiny bit more money: always motivational! I'm still teaching English on the side for a little extra money as well, which is nice too. I'm pretty attached to my students and would hate to let them go!

I also joined a phenomenal gym around the corner from my house and have been attending schizophrenic aerobic classes and trying to follow the weights plan my trainer designed for me. It's sort of fun: when you sign up at a gym here they assign you a trainer for free and then that person keeps track of you and gives you all sorts of things to do. I feel like my trainer is always laughing at me, though, because I don't know the names of any of the muscles or machines in Spanish, resulting in a lot of gesturing. But I'm learning! Much more monitored than our gyms back home. I'm really liking it.

As the new year rolled around I found myself wondering about the feared New Year's Resolutions. Here in Argentina they don't do resolutions, they do Deseos del Año Nuevo (New Year's Desires). I think I might like this better, since it is a little less pressure! Everyone knows you never keep New Years Resolutions! The past few years have been tumultuous and full of change for me, and my desire for 2009 is stability and progress. I've finally managed to make it to a sustainable point in my life. I've got somewhere to live, a good job and I'm working on a social network to support me and make it fun. So now I want to just "be" for a little bit and enjoy the moment. Argentina provides enough surprises I don't think I need to be generating any more big changes on my own. I want to work on establishing a life and living it, which I haven't been able to do for a long time. I am finally in a position to accomplish my personal goals and focus on developing my life and career, and I'm really ready for that. Of course, life has a way of throwing you curveballs so I'm prepared to be flexible. If anything, the past few years have taught me to adapt and take what comes for what it is. But since I get a deseo, here it is: tranquility in the moment. Let's have 2009 be a calm and stable one!

Just so you know, I miss you all and my heart has been at home for the holidays, even if I didn't make it in person. I'm sending hugs to all my loved ones! Cheers and Happy New Year!