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: