Homesickness

Yeah, yeah, it's been a long time since I've posted. Honestly, for the past month, nothing exciting really happened. Just livin' life.
I promise that after this month (which is gonna be super full of awesome stuff) I'll post a long update.
In the meantime, enjoy this piece I wrote for my philosophy class!

I’m Homesick, but I Don’t Want to Go Home

One of the most common questions I get here- and I’m talking weekly, if not more often- is whether or not I’m homesick. Actually, it’s not really an if; it’s more of an of course you are, please confirm and provide details.

I invariably respond that no, I’m not. No, really. It’s kind of an inconceivable notion here, that I wouldn’t miss my family, or my friends, or my own bed or what have you. And part of me is kind of scared that everyone here thinks I’m some unfeeling monster. I’m not; it’s just that for a simple question, the answer isn’t simple at all. I say no for the sake of time- but that’s not the truth.

The truth is that I do miss my home. I miss the colorful sunsets and sitting on the porch watching thunderstorms with my dad. I miss feeling the bite of the fall wind and the crunch of fallen leaves this time of year. I miss binge- eating low quality fast food and buttered popcorn with my best friends on Saturday nights, and I miss driving myself to church on Sunday mornings, sugary coffee in hand.

And yet, there is nothing inside of me- not one part- that wants to book a flight. I want those things, and more, but I do not want them this instant. I’m in no rush to leave this culture behind. Because in the past 3 months, I’ve built up a new list. A list of things I know I’ll miss come July- and those I’ll miss for much longer.

I love the cleansing rainstorms and walking in the park sharing the games of my childhood with my new friends. I love feeling the caress of a gentle breeze and the sway of a shaded hammock this time of year.  I love eating empanadas with my best friends on Saturday nights, and watching the sunrises on Sunday mornings, and I love eating lunch with my host grandparents only 6 hours later, sleep deprived but full.

When I left home, I left home for the first time in my life- my longest absence was a 10 day trip, and my family was with me. So coming here, I had no frame of reference for what homesickness felt like. I was scared that I would experience it, because I thought that being homesick meant that, well, you want to go home. And to me that sounded a lot like failing. I didn't know that you could love 2 things so completely. Since I can't rub a lamp and make a wish to smoosh these lives into one, there's only one thing I can do: embrace what I have while I have it. And right now, that's Argentina. 

Things I Used to Hate And/ Or Think Were Crazy Weird and Now Decidedly Do Not:

Alright well I think the title of this post is pretty self explanatory. Enjoy!

1.       1. Argentine pizza. The first bit of homesickness I had, which to be fair was overshadowed by the honeymoon phase and I resigned myself to it because I had better things to think about 5 days in, was for American pizza. The Friday after I got here I went to a girl’s house and nearly cried when she made a pizza with nothing on the crust but boiled eggs and mayo. That type I still can’t eat, honestly. Starting out, though, I was seriously let down by this particular food group- everything was different (bad- different) - the amount of sauce, the texture of the crust, the toppings. But over the weeks I’ve come to truly look forward to weekends, when the standard food is Pizza Napolitana (fun fact: here, we say “peek-sa,” as opposed to the American “peet-sa”) with fries. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

2.       2. The fashion. Oh how I hated the fashion. Platforms? Flare jeans? What decade is it again? Man was that a 180. You’d never guess it, but these trends have influenced my college decision. You people who know anything whatsoever about Colorado: ask yourself, where might one go if they want to do whatever they want, and they can blend in because the majority of the population is also being weird as hell, that also has a great university? I’d really love for this to be a rhetorical thing but since my stats page says I have readers in a multitude of places around the world who aren’t lucky enough to live near the Rockies, I’ll provide the answer: Boulder. Who’s a future Buff and proud wearer of all things Argentine and has two thumbs? This girl! For real, if you told pre- exchange Jill that by November she’d be pining over a pair of platform sandals she saw yesterday at the shoe store because they’d go perfectly with that one pair of bell- bottoms she got in Buenos Aires, she would have laughed. A lot. Also, they’re downright practical, which is a fact I learned the hard way. I had the brilliant idea to wear some strappy sandals out this past weekend- from the U.S., i.e. only keeping my feet about a centimeter from the ground. Consequence #1 was having to wash my feet in the sink when I got home because they were black with spilled alcohol and dirt. Consequence #2 was realizing that I’m now missing half of my toe nail. Won’t be doing that again any time soon.

3.       3. The music. I wasn’t exactly reluctant to listen to the music, even started to months before exchange. But tolerating it and enjoying it are separate things, and I am now comfortably in the latter. Not that I’ll be doing a ton of this when I get home, but seriously, how do people in the U.S. dance at clubs? What do kids even do at Prom?  Our music sucks, and it’s time we accept that. I don’t know what I’ll do when I have to leave behind my beloved cumbia and reggaeton. I'd like to imagine that I'll show it to my friends and they'll love it as much as I do, but I'm not naive, so instead I just imagine myself in my bedroom (or dorm room), trying to emulate a joda and failing. Sigh.

4.       4. The coffee. Ok, I never hated this or thought it was weird. But it’s still a big change for me. Hear me out. Back at home, I was a regular at a coffee shop. Seriously, the staff knew my name, asked if that one guy I went in with was my boyfriend (he wasn’t), offered me a free extra shot if I was looking especially tired. I have no doubt that they would’ve known my regular order, if I’d had one. It was different every day depending on my mood, but regardless, it was always sugar- laden and delicious. And the focus of so far the only homesickness I’ve struggled through. Not pizza homesickness. I’m talking I- would- kill- for- a- chai- if- jail- didn’t- exist homesickness. That was three weeks in, and I couldn’t help but think “it’s way too soon for this amount of angst, what’s wrong with me?” Yeah, it was probably just sugar withdrawals. But since then I’ve all but forgotten about my classic drinks back home. In fact, the last time I really thought about it, I was surprised to find that it doesn’t even sound appealing anymore. The coffee here- be it instant coffee from my very own kitchen, or café con leche from a gas station (which is a normal place to eat, and rather artisanal, actually) - is superior. I don’t put sugar packets in it anymore; they gross me out. Going back to my shop will be nice, I’m sure- they’ll all be able to spell my name without me having to explain that I’m a yanqui and that’s why it’s so weird- but I’ll stick to straight up lattes from here on out.

5.      5.  Besos. I write that in Spanish for a very specific reason: y’all need to chill, and kisses comes across way more serious in English than Castellano (here, it can be used at the close of even formal emails). Not gonna lie, I was super not- pumped for this. Among my family and friends at home, I was defined as the one who was quite content in her personal space, thank you very much. Since I’ve gotten accustomed to the common greeting of a kiss on the cheek, though, I frickin’ love it. It’s more open and nice than a hand shake (or, the always awkward “hey” coupled with a nod that teens love to do) but so much less touchy than a hug. A perfect medium. I’m slowly but surely warming up to the rest of the touchy- feely- ness of the culture. Operative word there being “slowly.”

6.       6. The mate. Story time! When I was a kid, I ruined my mom’s life. She got frustrated with how quickly all the snack foods kept disappearing (what can I say, there were teens in the house) so she bought salt and vinegar flavor. It worked for a while; everyone thought it was gross. But, being the ornery little girl I was, I decided that was just not allowed. So through sheer force of will I made myself like salt and vinegar chips, out of spite. Even today they’re my favorite. That was my mindset coming into this year, too. I was absolutely committed to making myself like mate. When I first tried it, I could not get over how bitter it was. But as of today, as I shared some with my host parents, I actually do like it. A lot. Guess it worked again.

7.       7. The laid- back schooling. At first, I was super annoyed with this. I used to be a seriously over achieving, straight- A, extra credit type student. So coming here, man, I was so jacked to hit the books. Imagine my surprise when I discovered there were no books. Heck, there were barely lectures. I gave up on the whole school thing after a few weeks- I still don’t know how they get the photocopies. And I must say, I’m really enjoying the whole no- homework thing that I have going for me. But aside from allowing me to spend my days reading Harry Potter y La Piedra Filosofal, I see now that the school system leaves a lot more up to the kids. Everything is self- driven; no hand- holding or pestering by teachers. You get it done, or you don’t. I like that mentality. I also like that when a teacher can’t make it to school, we get to watch Netflix.

At this rate, 8 months from now, I’ll be unrecognizable to my family and friends back home (no, not because of the facturas) - and honestly, I'm super ok with that. 

7 Week Update

I skyped with my best friend today. And while it was great to see her lovely face, I had to interrupt our conversation for a solid minute while my head exploded. Obviously not literally, but it was a very dramatic moment. Why? Because she told me that the quarter just ended in school at home. Do you know what that means? That means my time here is almost a quarter gone, too.

And that is ridiculous. Honestly I can’t even wrap my head around it, but it’s scaring the crap out of me anyways.

I keep looking forward to all of the great things that are to come: Rotary trips, learning about their holiday traditions and sharing mine, finally being fluent. I guess I forgot to look back at everything I’ve accomplished already. It’s still weird that I’ve reached a point in the year where I can label the amount of time in something besides months. And I don’t dig it.

Anyways. I don’t really have a way to tie that in to anything I’d already written. Just know that you, future exchange students, will reach a day as I have when you realize how fast time is moving. Try not to let it sneak up on you too much.

Moving on.

 Sadly, there are no more week- long celebrations to tell you about. So… I guess we’ll stick to a normal update type thing.

I’ve settled into a routine here, which is nice. School from 7 to 12: 30, walk home and pick up food with my host brother, eat, siesta, run (sometimes), eat (sometimes with friends, sometimes with Friends. Ya know, on Netflix), continue to watch Friends, or read, or write, or whatever else, eat again, go to bed. Pepper in some Volleyball practice or PE class, and that’s what I do on the average weekday. It’s pretty chill, if you didn’t pick that up from all of sleeping and eating. But since I’ve been here, 7 or so weeks now, there hasn’t been one weekend where I’ve repeated an activity or been bored.

I wanted to do these in chronological order, but honestly this was way too long ago. So I’m just gonna have to toss out some stuff I’ve done.

The weekend following Orientation, I stayed in Chivilcoy. There are two students there, and I stayed with the one from Canada. As exchange students, we share a common bond of not only language (as of right now that language is English), but perpetual exhaustion and a deep love for food. It’s always a grand time when we get together. Featured activities include going to ice cream shops, co- napping, and Netflix marathons (Lindsay and I share a common adoration for comparing the Spanish subtitles to what’s actually being said).

For some reason I’d forgotten that Canada’s Thanksgiving is even a thing that exists, despite having a friend who lives there part time. But Lindsay forgave me for that and invited me and Baptiste, the other kid from her town, to have an Argentine Thanksgiving a few weeks ago. I say Argentine for a few reasons: Turkeys don’t exist here, so we had milanesa, pumpkins don’t exist here either so we had squash pie, and gravy is hard to make without either a turkey or a packet, of which we had neither, so we had some white sauce for our potatoes. But it was still delicious, and I give major kudos to her host mom for taking on that task.

That same weekend, Lindsay and I went to Bragado, which is a town near here that’s the horse center of Argentina, or something along those lines. They had a horse festival for the entire province of Buenos Aires, and we went to see the parade. We only stayed for an hour- I think it was about 4 hours total- but in that time we got to see so much Argentine culture. There were quite a few styles that the gauchos (think American cowboys) wore. A typical shoe worn by gauchos is very similar to Toms- pretty much exactly, actually. I fully intend to buy a pair (or two or three) and when people at home ask where I bought them, I can pull a hipster on them. Ha. It’ll be great. 

I also had the chance to go to Buenos Aires for a weekend with my host mom. We met up with my host sister, who goes to university there, and rented a hotel room for the night. On Saturday, we spent a solid 6 hours shopping (this was officially the day that I fell in love with platforms), and I got to ride the subway for the first time. Bless my host sister for knowing how that works because if not we would’ve been so lost. That night we walked to the theater to see a show called Extravaganza: Water in Art. It was so crazy awesome to watch. All of the acrobats/ singers/ actors were from Argentina, besides one from Cuba. There were parts that I didn’t understand because they talked really quickly about pop- culture things- even if I could’ve kept up it wouldn’t have made sense. But for the most part it was these crazy talented acrobats doing insane stuff.

We had dinner afterwards at a pizzeria, and even near midnight the place was packed- and it wasn’t just theater- goers like ourselves; there was a toddler at the table next to us. Late dinners are normal here, but weekends in Buenos Aires? I think New York needs to give up its title.

As we walked back to the hotel, I stopped caring about how nice it would be to look like a native, and shamelessly took pictures with everything- the Obelisco, a street performer, and a sculpture of some famous dudes, I guess. And once we got back, I spent way too long with my head hanging out the 6^th floor window, staring at the Obelisco and the bustling traffic around it in awe. But it’s okay, no one saw that bit but my host mom. We happened to choose a great weekend to go to the city; on Saturday, the Obelisco was pointless (some sort of art statement that you should definitely look up), but when we woke up on Sunday, it was there again. So I have pictures with both! 

The next day we took the city bus to a tour bus company, and spent probably 6 hours checking out the sights. We got off in Caminito, where I bought a pair of super cozy pants that are common here and I’m currently wearing. Caminito is known for its brightly colored buildings, painted by early immigrants with leftover paint from the docks. It’s gorgeous, and so full of personality. But my favorite stop was in Puerto Madero, the most modern part of the city. I think I liked it because it had so much open space- as much as I loved the city, I love openness more. After the tour, we walked to Plaza de Mayo and got to go into the Casa Rosada (Like the White House, but better), and the cathedral.

We drove back to Alberti that night, within normal time parameters (basically, I could’ve slept plenty), but I skipped school the next day anyways (hey, it was my host mom’s idea, I’m not gonna turn that down), and spent the day relaxing and baking my favorite type of cookies- peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip. People here cannot understand the concept of peanut butter, by the way. My host brother and his friends wouldn’t even try it- they all just kind of stared at me in disgust when I ate it with an apple. Which I’m honestly super ok with, because now there’s more for me!

Some street performer, and incidentally, the restaurant where we ate dinner across the street.

There was a photo where you could actually tell the point was missing, but it was blurry, so you'll just have to believe me.

Extravanganza!

Caminito

Casa Rosada with my host sister

Inside the Casa Rosada, with a spiffy lookin' guard. I only had this picture taken because someone else did before me.

And the Obelisco with its point, on Sunday morning

Last weekend was my birthday weekend, and it was so perfect. I loved experiencing their traditions, and explaining mine to them.

On Thursday at school (my birthday fell on a Friday), the sexto girls said “Tell your host mom we’re coming over for dinner today.” I did ask her, but on the inside I was really, really confused.

Turns out that’s just the first part of their traditions- to celebrate as soon as midnight hits. It’s really convenient, considering that dinner happens so late.

So on Thursday night, a group of us ordered pizza at 10, and spent 2 hours talking and listening to music and taking selfies. Once it got near midnight, my host mom and brother joined us. Since we planned it so last minute, there wasn’t a cake. But I didn’t know that there should’ve been one, and honestly I didn’t care anyways. So as they sang to me, I blew out the candle that we stuck into an alfajor. It was perfect. I did have a bit of a misstep with the candle though. It was kind of a fiasco that I don’t want to explain, but I’ll tell you that I ended up with a bit of charred hair. And I lost my patience a bit since it kept re- lighting (I swear, this thing was a re- lighting candle the height of a small sparkler. Three blows is enough.), so the candle ended up in someone’s coke. I don’t feel bad about their ruined coke but apparently there’s some aspect of their traditions that requires more patience than I had. Guess my three (yeah, you heard me) wishes won’t come true. Oh well.

At school the next day, the class broke out into the birthday song at least 5 times, spontaneously and without warning. Sometimes English, sometimes Spanish- but always accompanied by boisterous clapping and/ or slamming their hands onto a desk. They also do a thing here with pulling your earlobes the amount of years you are old. I think I made it to 4 before putting a stop to that. I did consider telling them about the spanking thing that they do with kids in the U.S., but I didn’t want to give anyone any ideas.

After school I got my usual siesta, and afterwards a few of the girls came over again. We walked to a bakery to get some facturas, and they gave me a present on behalf of all the sextos- which I absolutely love.

By 10, I was at my host grandma’s quincho (a separate building where people host parties, conveniently enough), but my host brother and dad had been there for a few hours making the chorizo for choripan. This party was basically the same as the night before; listening to music, eating, and talking. Just before midnight, I got to blow out the candles of 2 more cakes (this time keeping my hair safely out of the way).

At almost 1, we all left again. The sextos, who just got back from their graduation trip to Bariloche, wanted to meet up with another group of students they’d met. So we headed a town over. We got to the club early- about 1: 30. That’s not at all relevant but if you ever find yourself in Argentina, don’t go to a club until 2: 30 at the earliest. Unless you want to sit around like us.

Anyways. A few hours of dancing later, and we walked to the Plaza, where we watched the sunrise and ate hamburgers from the only place that was open at that ungodly hour. I fed mine to the dogs, because it was way too early to eat, and because I have to uphold my reputation (obviously).

I think I finally fell into bed at 7:30, in case you were wondering. I hadn't been so tired in a long time, but I also hadn't had so much fun in a long time. It was better than anything I could have hoped for, and definitely tops the best- birthday- ever list. If I could use emojis on my laptop, there would be a lot of hearts right here. 

My two cakes (to make up for the lack of one the night before), and the shirt that the girls bought for me! Also featured: the two bracelets I got, one from my host mom and one from Lindsay. 

Party #1

I also had the chance to go to the campo last weekend. Which I was super pumped about, because campo translates to a bunch of words in English (field, country, farm, ranch, etc), so for the past 7 weeks I hadn’t been able to figure out which campo my family was talking about. Turns out my host dad owns a ranch. There’s all the basic farm animals, of course, and also some emus. I don’t know if that’s normal for Argentina or if our family is just cool like that. Also, I got to ride a horse, but it was a little bit of a disaster. I honestly felt bad for the horse. I’ve ridden before, so I thought I’d be fine. Turns out, to direct a horse here, you pull the reigns the opposite way that you would in the U.S. So every time I wanted to go right, the horse went left. Until I figured out what was happening. It was a bit embarrassing.

It’s entirely possible that I missed some stuff, but hey, that’s alright. Maybe next time I’ll get my life together and blog before I forget everything that’s happened. Maybe.

Hasta luego!

One Month!

Ya know, I really pride myself on my writing expressing who I am and how I experience things as an individual. I try to avoid sounding like every other travel blog out there- they’re all lovely, but I want to be ~unique~. Alas, I couldn’t figure out a way around this one without sounding pretentious. So here goes.

Man, time flies!

I can’t believe it’s been a month already! The days pass normally, especially now as I’ve developed a routine and become more comfortable in my life here. But the weeks seem to slip past like quicksand. Every Sunday I look back kind of awestruck that 7 more days have passed.

Well, I got that over with. I guess it's a universally used line because it's a universally experienced sensation, but still. I resent it.

In honor of my one month anniversary, a thing which I can now say I’ve celebrated with a country but never a boyfriend, I’d like to take you all on a little journey. These are (some of) the ways that I experienced culture shock (though I didn’t recognize it as such at first). Some may seem baffling to people back home- they did to me at first- but now, it's not weird, it just is. Without further ado...

This is life in Argentina:

Milk comes in bags, and so do things like mayo and ketchup. After talking to Rebound, I realized that this actually makes a lot of sense; it’s so much cheaper, and squeezing mayo is hella easier than trying to wrestle it out of a jar with a knife. Argentina: 1, USA: 0

On that note, mayo is the condiment of choice here. They put it on everything the way we put ketchup on everything. For the most part this was only weird to me because it’s different, but there was a day when my host dad used it as salad dressing, which I refuse to accept as normal.

The meat here is so heavenly. My host mom can just toss some steaks on a frying pan with some salt, and they taste like the most expensive cut from a steakhouse. Y’all don’t know what you’re missing out on.

Other things relating to food: Alfajores filled with dulce de leche (or anything, really, but I’m partial to dulce de leche) are heavenly, as is choripan and asado and flan and empanadas. I could go on but let’s just sum it up by saying that food here is better than the U.S.
 Also, if bread is involved in a meal (which it usually is), we just put a few rolls on the table, and when you want some you rip a bit off and put the rest back. Took me awhile to adjust to it but hey, it leaves more room on the plate. What up. 
Something that I have not adjusted to: when you want something from across the table, you just say "Give me the juice." And that feels rude to me (even though it's not) so I pretty much just wait till someone offers me something. That's one way to keep off those exchange pounds, right?

In the U.S., we cut our food with a kind of sawing motion; here, they cut straight through in one swipe. I tried it and it proved ineffective. They think we (other exchange students have realized this too) have problems cutting the food here, but it’s just a different custom. Who would’ve thought? However there was one incident in which I couldn't cut my pizza (maybe because I'd never done that before?) so my friend's mom did it for me. Like the true child that I am.

Bathrooms never have toilet paper. It’s just a thing. At school, there’s one dispenser out by the sinks, and you just take what you need before going into a stall. But, the stalls are like little rooms, so you don’t have the awkward door gaps like in the U.S. Bless.

There are stray dogs everywhere. For the most part, they seem healthy and happy, and they blend well with the community (and by that I mean that everyone ignores them). Last week, one wandered into the restaurant I was at and no one seemed to notice, let alone care. I think I’m getting a reputation as “that- weird- foreigner- who- pets- the- dogs.” Which I’m chill with, honestly.

Upon editing, I definitely am the weird foreigner who pets the dogs, and I’m definitely still chill with it.

Platforms. I drank the kool- aid pretty quickly with this trend. Before I got here I was super anti- platform, but honestly they’re so much more comfortable than heels- and you still get the height. I know, I know, I said I'd never do it. But when in Argentina…

 School is super laid back. We call our teachers by their first names, and if I happen to go missing from my classroom for a few periods while I enjoy some mate and pastries with the sextos, no one cares. Not that I’ve ever done that.

We eat 4 meals a day here. Because lunch and dinner are so spaced out (9- ish hours), we eat merienda in the afternoon to keep us going, if you will. This is when mate normally comes into play; if you’re with people, you’ll be passing around a gourd and talking. I normally have a coffee and cookies or toast. It’s more of a snack, I guess, but it’s an official snack.

 Here come's my favorite one. Ready? The Siesta. What the Argentines lack in nightly sleep, they make up for in afternoon naps. I mean, I did this in the U.S. too, but now it’s socially acceptable. Also keep in mind that it's not actually capitalized. I just did that for the effect.

In the U.S. we have that phrase “If you’re not 5 minutes early, you’re late.” The Argentine equivalent is “If you’re 5 minutes early, you’re weird.”

Ok, not really, but the official start time is never the real start time. It's been quite the learning curve, as in the U.S. my personal motto was "If you make me late, I'll never forgive you." I dig it though.

 The Plaza and park are (on nice days) dotted with groups of people, all ages, sharing a mate and chatting. I’ve established a relationship with the pochoclo guy who’s always on the corner. I mean the first time I went there I didn't even know the word for popcorn so that was weird, but I think we've recovered from that. 

I could go on- the differences are endless. But at this point I'm getting down to things that I can't write about without sounding bored, like how the police drive around with their lights on all the time. I mean it's different, but it'd cramp my style, so it's not officially part of the list. 

Anyways. I guess that's it! Stay tuned, the next post will probably just be about normal things. Super exciting.

Chau!

Orientation!

Talk about busy; the Semana de Juventud ended Friday night, and the next morning I left the house at 7 to go to District Orientation. It was about a 2.5 hour drive to Campo de Mayo, a major military base here. I don’t really know why they hosted it there- they never have before- but it was super cool. That’s a part of their culture that I wouldn’t have had an opportunity to see otherwise, and that's awesome.

Some differences between what I know of the U.S. military and what I saw here:

To kick things off, the beds here were way more comfortable than the ones in Fort Sill. Sucks for you, Karli.

Each room had 3 bunk beds, and were partitioned off before the level of the ceiling. So basically they were glorified cubicles.

Definitely less security; my host parents just drove onto the base, no gate or anything. When we got to the right building, they asked for our names- not our ID’s- and let us drive past. One kid’s name didn’t make the list, and he was let in anyways.

There were still stray dogs, especially in the dining hall (where half of the room was soldiers, and half was us).

A similarity: The quality of the food. You all know what that means.

We got to watch their ceremony for lowering the flag at the end of the day, which I found really interesting. They lowered it in time with the beat of a drum, and once it was down and untied, they just balled it up so the sun was showing before marching away. I haven’t seen a flag ceremony in the U.S., but I do know that we take a lot of time to fold the flag. That was a prominent difference to me. I looked up how to fold an Argentine flag, and nothing showed up- even in the pictures- so I guess that’s just normal protocol here. I’m glad I got to see it. It’s little things like that that culture shock is made of; it never occurred to me that something like that would be different.

So, on to the fun stuff.

My family and I got to the base a bit early, so I talked with a few outbound students until everyone got there.

Of course we all had the somewhat awkward greetings, like “Hey I know who you are because of Facebook, please tell me you know who I am too or this will be weird” but soon afterwards, we settled into easy friendship. It’s impossible not to. I don’t really know how to describe the camaraderie in the exchange world, but it’s instantaneous. In our district, there are only 8 inbounds, so for us it’s especially easy to be a cohesive group.

Once everyone arrived, we went into the meeting room, and all of the kids went onstage- inbounds, outbounds, and rebounds- and introduced ourselves to the parents and rotarians. Inbounds said where we’re from and where we live, outbounds said where they hope to go (they found out this weekend), and rebounds said where they went.

While the parents had a meeting, the kids all went out to the dining hall to have a snack- alfajores, crackers, and chocolate milk. Then we went out to the soccer field and did some name games, and had a chance to just talk.

At first, the Rotarians were sure to correct us if we spoke English, but eventually they gave up. Even the kids from Europe knew English, so we were an unstoppable force. It was quite refreshing to be able to express myself freely again- if only for a weekend.

The rest of the day fell into the same pattern: meeting, game, meeting, food, game, meeting. You get the point. During the first meeting, I understood everything they said- in Spanish- and it was quite a proud moment. But by the second meeting, I was so tired that I couldn’t focus for long enough to keep up. They said only enough in English to fill in some gaps, and I became more and more grateful for those. But still, progress is progress. I know I wouldn’t have understood that much a week or two weeks ago.

They explained that for the trips we won’t combine with another bigger district, which means that our trips will be more like family vacations. Which is pretty cool, I think. I have this mental image of a rented mini- van with 6 people in it, and the driver threatening to turn the car around if we don’t settle down, and someone asking "Are we there yet?" I know, I know, that’s an American perspective, it won’t be like that. But it’s still funny.

Saturday night, we all congregated to one of the rooms until about 2 AM. Someone had brought a guitar, so those who knew how to play passed it around. They played a lot of songs in English, which was cool. I love hearing their accent when they sing.

Sunday, we got up at 9 and did just a few more meetings, but for the most part the day was ours to socialize and exchange pins and take pictures. They gave each inbound a little gift, a banner with the design of the Argentine flag. It’s already got a spot reserved on my college dorm wall.

We left around 3, and it wasn’t exactly emotional, but melancholy I guess. Though most of the students live in the same few cities (read: everyone except for me), the cities are pretty spread out, so we won’t be able to see each other too often. Although, I am planning to visit the city closest to here sometime soon to see my new Canadian pal.

On the way home, my host parents brought me to Lujan, a city about an hour from Alberti, to see the Basilica. It’s very famous here because it’s dedicated to the patron saint of Argentina. And it was absolutely gorgeous, obviously. Its architecture is gothic, and the stained glass windows were stunningly detailed. That goes without saying, though. The church, and the plaza outside, were kept spotless, though I did still spot a stray dog or two napping under the pews. The plaza was probably 2 city blocks, and lined with vendors of popcorn, ice cream, and touristy stuff. Being Sunday, the place was full- they had parking directors and we had to park about 3 blocks away before walking in.

Just outside of Lujan is the same restaurant we stopped at my first day here. It's a common place to stop because it's at the crossroads of 3 highways, and we stopped there for merienda. This time, I wasn’t nauseous, and they have ketchup, so I enjoyed my french fries there significantly more. Progress.

 It’s Student’s Day, so we once again didn’t have school, and I’m so grateful. I did absolutely nothing, and it was glorious. There are some days when I do nothing and feel like a failure of an exchange student, but I know that I needed today to be exactly as it was. I may have finally caught up on sleep, and I got to dedicate a few hours to writing. Also, my host mom taught me to make tiramisu. 

With our banners: USA, Germany, Austria, France, Canada, USA, Germany, Belgium

Biggest flag I've ever seen

Semana de Juventud

Hola!

This post is going to be dedicated to the Semana de Juventud (Week of Youth), which is exclusive to Alberti and a really, really, really big deal here. I’ll be writing this as the week progresses, so as not to forget anything *~exciting~*.

The Semana de Juventud is a town- wide competition, and kids compete in a myriad of activities. They have soccer, soccer- tennis (which is tennis, with your feet. And head. I had to ask.), volleyball, track and field, mural painting, photography, singing, dancing- both modern and traditional…. And the list goes on. The kids aren’t pushed along or herded to do everything right, or on time- it’s entirely up to them, which is really cool.

My team is made up of my whole class of quintos, and a few of the sextos, and our name is “Pescame el Surubi.”

 The teams have been preparing now for weeks, and the teachers let them plan in school pretty much every day. Which, incidentally, is part of the reason I couldn’t understand any classes until recently; there weren’t classes.

It’s a huge competition, and though there are inter- group friendships, they do not mess around. I had the chance to see two teams’ introductory costumes, which is unheard of, and was then hounded by both teams to give up information. As it turns out, both teams had the same idea anyways. But I’ll get to that later.

~Friday, September 11^th ~

Today, we didn’t have school because it’s Teacher’s Day. My host mom and I talked about how we have the same holidays, but in the U.S. we don’t get days off of school. Here, she said, they take any excuse to party. Which I am totally down with.

I spent a big portion of the day at one of the Quintos houses, where we painted the team flag. At 7- ish, we went to the town square to start the festivities. All the teams line up, with their flags and an abundance of team spirit, and are introduced in front of the crowd one by one. The other group of sextos, mostly from another school, had brought some drums to play, and it reminded me of football games at home- so while we waited I taught my team some cheers. They quite like the “Bernie,” which, of course, led to me teaching them the Wobble line dance. I must say that I’m quite proud of myself for being able to teach them some dances. Many thanks to my parents for my sense of rhythm. Just kidding, rhythm props go to just mom. Besos.

Being introduced pretty much means that your whole group runs/ jumps while screaming/ yelling half a block to the stage, while spraying this… I don’t know, soap stuff, all over each other, and upon arrival singing a song (which as of yet I do not know the words to). It was pretty fantastic. The amount of spirit and personality that people have here is so intoxicating, it’s impossible to be in a bad mood.

When everyone gets to the stage, they start introducing each teams’ costumes- which is kind of a vessel for the team ideology. My team and the other sextos had each made life- size Tetris pieces; for us, Tetris was representative of everyone being different, but still fitting together. It’s also the first competition; teams are judged by the quality of their costumes.  Incidentally, if anyone out there is looking for a group Halloween costume, I highly recommend getting some cardboard boxes and paint. Extra points given for blocking off a roadway.

While waiting for the points to be added up, the area in front of the stage pretty much turns into American Homecoming. And by that I mean: In the middle, you have the mosh pit, surrounded by some people actually dancing (with more rhythm than is usually displayed in the states), and some people on the outside watching is amusement. I can say that I was part of all of those groups at some point, and that my Birkenstocks did not fall off in the mosh pit, which is quite impressive.

~Saturday, September 12^th ~

Today was the first official day of competition (and the first time I’d ever tried alfajores, which are literally from Heaven). At 5, I went to the Plaza to watch Soccer- Tennis, which is super fun. To watch, anyways. It’s probably fun to play but I wouldn’t know, because I play neither soccer nor tennis.  And we won it, putting us in second place overall. I stayed in the Plaza with a few other girls, drinking mate and talking about differences between Colorado and here (like winter, and hippies), while we waited for the next event.

After it got dark, everyone met in front of the stage- this time sitting down- to watch videos. I was completely uninvolved with this part of the week, so I had no idea what to expect. Turns out that every group had to make a PSA video of sorts. Different groups did littering, bullying, suicide, domestic violence, and safe online relationships.  Once again, while the judges deliberated, everyone danced. Today I got to try out the drums from the other group, which I thoroughly enjoyed. And, I got to test out my traditional Argentine dancing skills with a super cute boy from my school.

 No worries, Pops, he’s 10.

For dinner I bought a plain hot dog, because they were out of choripan and I haven’t yet accepted the mayonnaise- instead- of- ketchup thing. Someday, perhaps.

~Sunday, September 13~

Today, the competitions were in Truco and Quemado. Those words meant nothing to me 3 hours ago. Actually, Truco still means nothing to me; I now know that it’s a card game, but I have no idea how it works. Which I’m ok with, because cards bore me.

Quemado, though, does not bore me. It’s like dodgeball, but better.

The court is much smaller than dodgeball, about the size of half a tennis court. Each team has 4 people; 3 in their main playing area, and 1 behind the other team. The person behind their opposing team can throw the ball, but maintains immunity from being hit. There’s only one ball, and each round starts with a toss- up similar to basketball. From there, if you get the ball, you throw it, and aim for below the waist of someone on the opposing team. The fact that everyone is at such close range, and that the ball could come from the front or behind, keeps things spicy. The round ends when someone is hit, and the game ends when everyone on one team is eliminated.

Oh, there was also photography, another thing that I was not involved in. But it was cool to see the photos taken by each group; there were no parameters, so subjects ranged from the classic sunset shot to a staged photo depicting how love overcomes obstacles.

~Monday, September 14^th~

Today, I didn’t go to school. Because school this week is optional. How many kids go to school when it’s optional? I think you know the answer.

I had these great plans to get up early (and by “early” I mean “the sun has not yet reached its highest point in the sky”) and have some productive free time. And yet, I somehow ended up with my host brother asking me if I wanted breakfast food or lunch food. That’s become a pretty common theme for me here, actually, in a drastic turn of events from my routine in Colorado.

After some delicious milanesa courtesy of my host grandma, I had enough time to go for a run (I know, shocking) and take a shower before going to the Polideportivo. Since the town is so small, the Polideportivo (literally, a “many- sport”) is utilized by all of the schools, for games and P.E. classes. Today was soccer, which is (obviously) a big deal. I’m just now starting to like it, but I still can’t understand how it would be worth the physical effort to sprint back and forth for an hour all to score 1 point. Or 0 points. But hey, as long as it’s not me playing, all is well.

Tonight was the singing competition, which went just about as well as you’d expect. It was fun to try to sing along to the very few songs that I know, and hear different styles of Spanish music. Up until today, I had only really heard the most popular style- reggaeton.

~Thursday, September 17~

Well, I didn’t write every day. Whoops. Sleep comes before blogging, and before most other things at this point, honestly.

So, Tuesday. Tuesday was volleyball and traditional dance. It felt really good to play a sport again- even though we lost. Also, diving without knee pads is not recommended.

The traditional dances were so great though. I’m pretty sure the crowd of teens here was bored- actually, I know they were- but for me, it was fascinating. Everything from the traditional dress to the style of music to the styles of dance- which differ from region to region- was new to me. My group did the Zamba, not to be confused with the Samba of Brazil, while most other groups did a cuarteto. I think. 

Wednesday was my favorite day of the week by far: Track and Field. It’s been extremely rewarding to learn so much new stuff, but it was nice to have a day where I knew what I was doing, and could help my team.

The teams were made up of 6 people: 3 guys and 3 girls. For each event, one person was allowed to sit out. I sat out for javelin and shotput, as I didn’t want to injure myself- or anyone else (read: javelin)- due to lack of technical knowledge. But I did get to compete in long jump, distance running, and the relay. I was absolutely dreading the long distance, which was about 1.5 kilometers. To me, the sprinter, it was daunting. Also, I had to pee the whole time. And it wasn’t nervous pee, it was straight up I- drank- too- much- water pee. But maybe that’s what motivated me; I got second for the women, behind the other girl from my team who runs marathons. So, needless to say, it went better than expected.

In true Argentine fashion, the meet started 1.5 hours late, and halted for about 3 hours, and everyone went home to have lunch. America needs to get on that. Seriously. Well, at least the lunch break thing.

After lunch for our team was the javelin and shotput, so I brought my camera and got some pretty great shots not only of the throws, but also of a classmate drinking mate in the middle of a field while sitting on his motorcycle. Very Argentine.

The last event was the relay, and I can’t tell you how good it felt to know what I was doing for the first time in 2.5 weeks. It was 5 people, again, and 80 meters each. All in one long stretch down a dirt road behind the park. We won both our heat of the prelims, and the final heat. And now I’m sore, but it was worth it.

I didn’t go home right away, though- instead, I helped paint the mural. Every year for the Semana de Juventud, the town paints a wall white and divides it off to each of the teams. Driving around, you can see the sections from years past, and it’s super cool. Pick it up a notch, Loveland.

From there I went downtown again, to the Cultural Center to watch Preguntadas, which is the Spanish name for the game Trivia Crack. Each team got 3 kids to sit inside, answering not only questions from the app itself, but also about Alberti’s laws and history. The rest of the kids sat outside and watched on a projector. I was quite proud that I not only understood a lot of the questions, but that I knew some of the answers that the others didn’t. Like Dora’s inseparable pet’s name is Botas, and The Little Mermaid is La Sirenita in Spanish.  Also, made friends with a few stray dogs.

It took forever, honestly; the older group finished at 1 AM. But I didn’t get to go to bed. From there, I went to another girl’s house to learn the dance, and make props for it. I learned my part at 3 AM. Between one and three, I first fell asleep on the floor in front of the space heater, then upgraded to the couch when someone noticed. #exchangestudentprobs.

I went to bed at 5, I think, and once I woke up, I returned to the same house to practice again.

For this portion of the competition, the teams don’t get to choose what they do. Before the week starts, each team submits 3 songs, and each team draws one back out. And that’s how we ended up dancing to Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like a Woman.” Which worked out really well in my favor. At least I could understand the lyrics.

Our set for the stage mixed a lot of American themes, none of which was country like I thought it would be. It took place in a 1950’s Diner, on Ladies’ Night, where the girls wore crop tops and miniskirts, and at the end one of the guys is pulled away by the bouncers. And it was great.

~Friday, September 18~

Today was the final day of competition. The competitions were a Pentathlon and the final parade. I didn’t watch the pentathlon, but I did go to the parade, and that was pretty cool.

Each team designed a float, and as it was brought past the stage, one team member would make a small speech about the meaning of their design. Ours was a tree made of discarded bottles, with apples made of the bottoms of bottles painted red. And we didn’t actually have a car, so we pulled it ourselves. I’m not entirely sure if that had to do with some sort of imagery, but it was pretty cool.

While the judging happened, they had some rock band play live. I have no idea what they were called but they played pretty well. It kind of threw off everyone’s groove; pretty much everyone here just dances to cumbia. So I did a bit of headbanging (with the rock- on hands to match) to break up the standing around.

I think we got 2^nd overall, but I can’t be sure because I wasn’t paying attention. My team is kind of disappointed, but I’m just happy that I got to participate in something so unique.

Oh, I almost forgot! I finally bought choripan today, and it is glorious. So I bought two.

Besos!

Track Victors!

Girls' Soccer

Guys' Soccer

Honestly, super proud of this action shot. That's the only reason it's here.

School So Far

Hola!

I started school on Wednesday! (9/2)! It was so great. Normally it starts at 7, but since it was my first day I went at 9. I only had one of Jazmin's old shirts, but no pants, so I just wore jeans. Marian brought me in, and we found the principal. She was absolutely great, really understanding of my learning Spanish. Also met a few of the "Hermanas, " and they're really sweet too.
The school itself is pretty stereotypical, I think, of what we see in movies. It's a big square building, but in the middle there's a plaza, or square. Painted blue and white, kind of drafty, kind of old, but very full of personality. The interior wall is covered with windows, so you can see out into the square and it's kept very well lit.
The "Promo quin" class, or this year's graduating class, decorated a whiteboard and made me breakfast with different types of Argentina pastries that we ate in the computer room. It was so great. I tried mate for the first time, and it's a bit of an acquired taste because it's so bitter, but I like it.
I met a few of the teachers, including the English teacher who offered to speak English with me if I need a break, and said she'll give me some books to help. We talked a bit about the differences in British English and American English, both with pronunciation and vocab (saying bathroom instead of toilet, and our not pronouncing the letter T). And some of the kids wanted to know about CrossFit, but I couldn't tell them accurately in Spanish, so she translated.
For the rest of the day, I stayed with the 6th years (sextos), during their lessons. During math I just drew a rather fantastic photo of both flags (which they later put on the wall). After that, though, they had literature class, but it ended up being more of a lack of literature class. The teacher, who everyone addressed by her first name (which is the norm here, I just didn't know that yet), just pulled up a chair in the middle of our desks, and we sat there talking and eating more pastries for 45 minutes. It was so different from the U.S. I was expecting the student- teacher relationships here to be more rigid, but it's been quite the opposite.
The only reason that I didn't have to do anything then was because I'm not actually in the 6th years class; on Thursday I started school for real, but with the 5th years. I'm not sure why, because when they were explaining it I couldn't understand them (exchange student probs), but hey, there it is.
As bummed as I am to leave the 6th years, it's cool to experience both grades.
But the quintos are cool too; my current host brother and my next host sister are in the class.
So far, the teachers haven't expected me to do anything. They don't have textbooks here; instead they use photocopies of certain sections. They have to do this on their own at the print shop, which means that I have no materials right now. Which is fine, because it's enough mental work to listen to so many voices at once.
On Friday, we had Sociology. The teacher asked if I had seen the town, and since I haven't seen much, we went on an impromptu field trip. They showed me the town square, and taught me about the architect who designed the Town Hall and Plaza, and then we went to the park.
The next class was Chemistry, a widely disliked class at my school. But surprisingly, it was the most productive for me. The teacher was a bit more strict, so it was easier to hear and understand what was happening. And the words and math are the same, so for the first time out of two days of classes I actually took notes.
School here starts at 7 and ends at 12:30. It's only a few blocks away from the house, so Fran and I walk home and eat lunch together every day (besides Friday, we eat with his grandparents then). Some days they have different classes after school, like gym or math. But it's separated by enough time that everyone has time for a siesta.
 As skeptical as I was about wearing a uniform, I've gotta say that wearing sweatpants every day is pretty amazing.
Oh, also the expectation to take a nap every day. That's amazing too.
Oh, and Merienda, the official fourth meal where we eat cookies and drink tea or mate. Bless.

The 6th years girls

 The 5th year girls on our trip to the park

 All of the 5th years

All of the 6th years at the breakfast they made for me

Chau!

First Few Days

First off, this post spans a few days in which I didn’t have WiFi. I’ll mark the change in dates.

~8/29/15~

 My feet have officially left American soil, and they won’t be back on it for a year.

And man, I’m ready for it.

For the longest time, this all didn’t feel real. It was all just a game of “maybe” and “hopefully.” Even once it became official that I would be leaving today- which was actually only yesterday- I didn’t feel like I thought I should have. I knew it was going to happen, but I didn’t know when. I made a mental list of possible moments: Leaving my parents before security, leaving Denver, landing in Atlanta, leaving Atlanta. I thought it may not even hit me until I landed in Buenos Aires.

But.

When I got to Atlanta, tired because my last- minute booking got me a middle seat and I didn’t want to risk using the shoulder of one of the people beside me as a pillow, I checked my gate and started going there… but got sidetracked. By food. My terminal didn’t have ‘Merican food, at least not suitable for a last- meal type of thing. So I stopped off in terminal A, where I bought some Chick- fil- A and Qdoba, because I couldn’t decide and I couldn’t think of a reason that I should have to decide. And I brought it back to my terminal. And found my gate. And then the reality of it finally hit me. Suddenly, I was surrounded by women wearing platform shoes.

Kidding. Well, there were plenty of platforms, but first and foremost I realized that I was the minority. No other passengers at that point were American. Spanish conversations buzzed around me. And here I sat holding two different types of fast food (I don’t regret that, by the way), declaring myself as American. Nice start to cultural acclimation, right?

But I wasn’t anxious- just excited.

~8/30/ 2015~

There was another Rotary student on my flight, so he and I sat together until boarding. And talked about how weird it was that after that plane landed, we would be expected to speak Spanish almost exclusively for a year. It was a pretty weird epiphany.

Living out that epiphany is even weirder. Like realizing which words are reaction words, not thought words. I’ve caught myself multiple times today saying “what?” and “wait!” and “sure.” Not to mention mentally kicking myself when I spoke to my host mom in the “tu” conjugation. She’s practically a saint dealing with my language skills, so she didn’t say anything.

I’ve had a lot of ups and downs today in the Spanish speaking department. One moment, I have what seems to me, anyways, to be a great conversation, and I reply promptly and correctly, and they understand my probably- very- thick accent (remember, kids, the V is a B, and the LL is an SH), and the next moment I’m staring at them blank faced, and when I do come up with a reply it’s slow and halting and painful.

But honestly, even in the bad moments I see the good. I can feel my brain working, and I can tell how quickly learning will happen. When I’m struggling a lot, it even feels like victory when the other person can guess what I’m trying to say. And adapting in little ways, like saying “chau” instead of “adios,” and figuring out that saying “tonces” is a language laziness akin to “because” and “cause”? Makes me feel like I’m so on top of the exchange student thing.

Some cultural things have become abundantly clear, too. Camila, my host sister (who lives in BA), asked if I was cold. Wearing jeans and a ¾ sleeve shirt. In what I would guess to be mid- 60’s weather. I was sweating. Oh, side track, it’s not nearly as humid as I was expecting. So my hair may be spared. Back to topic, the driving here is... different than the U.S. It freaked me out at first, that most of the intersections here in Alberti don’t have stop signs, and yet no one slows down. But now I get that for them it's just normal. They're all safe, and they know what they're doing. Oh, fun fact, they have their gas pumped for them here! I definitely didn’t think that was a thing. Earlier today, while I was slightly car sick and more than slightly tired, we stopped for lunch. I couldn’t stomach it, sadly. Figured I’d be fine by dinner. But I forgot something pretty major. Dinner isn’t at a normal spacing. Tonight, I’m having dinner with Jazmin’s friends. At 9:30. Safe to say, I am now famished, and I’ve been awake for 34 hours, give or take. I’ve resolved not to skimp on snack time or nap time from here on out.

Guys, I gotta tell you, I am so in love with this house. It’s so classically beautiful- from the all- wood (tessellated, might I add) floor, to the back garden with climbing vines weaving their way over the bricks, to the partially exposed piping in my bedroom. This place is a photographer’s dream. When I break mine out, I’ll share some pictures with you all. Oh, and they have a cleaning lady once a week. And lemma tell ya, I’m not complaining.

~8/ 31/ 2015~

My first full day in Argentina! I went to bed at 3AM, which is absurd, and woke up at 1 PM, which is also absurd, especially for me. I’ve been here for two breakfast– times and not eaten any. For lunch today, though, Marian made milanesa, which is a very popular dish here. Turns out it’s pretty much just chicken fried steak. Not that that’s a bad thing, but as far as exotic food I haven’t gotten much, which is also not a bad thing. Just a surprise.

Since I was still eating dinner when Fran and Javier got home (they were at a motocross competition), I met Fran today. Still haven’t met my host dad, though. But Fran is cool. He and Marian told me that he’s bad at English (it’s bad enough that they reiterated it like three times), so I of course offered to help a brotha out.

I had some spare time this afternoon, so I dug out the camera. When Marian saw me taking pictures of the house, she offered to take me to the park. It’s gorgeous. I was just about to say how many trees there were when she told me that there weren’t many trees at all, because the flood wiped some of them out a few weeks ago. But still, way more trees than dry ol’ Colorado. There’s a walking path there that’s 1km long, I’ll probably end up running there. As tragic as that is. But maybe I can get one of the dogs to run with me… it’s possible, since two of them followed me around the park today, even without my having food. Now we’re friends and I’ve named one of them Al, and the other one is Burt.

Hasta Luego!