Guys, February has been one hell of a month.
Really, shout out to this entire summer. Exchange students are told that summer (for those of us in the south, anyways) is the hardest part. But for me, it was by far the best. There were days when I was bored, sure. But it was the same type of bored that I am in any given summer at home. Here, I could be bored next to a pool, which was a step up.
I did a good job of keeping busy. Or I guess I should say my host families (shout out to them too) did a good job of keeping me busy. Trips to Buenos Aires and to the beach, asados, inviting me everywhere. Not to mention my amazing friends, who I met up with at least a few times a week for dinner, pool time, even just a ronda of mate.
Exchange, of course, is filled with amazing, unforgettable moments. I guess you could say that around this time, I’ve just felt the most content across the board. I’ve finally gotten through the hard stuff, and I’ve started indulging in everything Argentina- savoring every moment because I know my return date will come all too soon.
Throughout the amazing day- to- day routine that I’ve come to love, there’s been some things that pop out to me that are definitely blog- worthy.
First off, Carnaval!
It was absolutely incredible. It was (is) an ongoing thing. Though I’m pretty sure it’s stopped here in Alberti, I think it’s still going on in bigger cities. If it’s not a full street- blocked- off, whole- town- watching event, then a local club will have corsos.
Pause- I think I need to clear something up. There were a few new words that I learned, and they’re probably pretty important to understanding all of this. Corsos are courses- each pass down the main street done by a group of dancers. And murgos- well, I don’t know if there is a translation. But it entails a group of drummers making their way along the route, banging out some super catchy tunes.
Pre- foam Jill
The main weekend of Carnaval, a four day stretch before Lent, I went twice. The first time, I went with my first host family (the second family having gone on vacation). I didn’t see much- my friends and I went to a party instead.
But the second night. Oh man, was that fun.
Everyone lines a two- block section of town (I imagine it’s substantially longer in bigger cities). The restaurants put all of their tables on the street, the pochoclo guy and the choripan vendors make a killing. The real money- maker is the foam. Sure, everyone is watching the dances and listening to the music. But they’re also slathering each other up with this fake snow stuff. Between corsos, kids run into the street, chasing each other. Moms stand at the ready with clean rags to wipe eyes off (because let me tell ya, that stuff burns), but they don’t hesitate to grab a can and join in on the fun.
The basic guide is: if you’re holding a can, you are a target. Regardless of what else you may be holding. I found that out when I tried to walk down the street with a can in one hand and my camera hanging from my neck. That was a bit tense till I found someone willing to hold it for me.
The main event is, obviously, the corsos and murgos. And for me, it was amazing to see, since I never had before. But off to the sides, there were full- out wars. Sibling rivalries, friends turning on friends, truces made and broken.
When the corsos ended, about 1 AM, things don’t slow down. On a stage in the middle of it all, a band starts playing, and everyone spills into the streets, dancing and drinking foam- sprinkled beer, trying to keep the various body parts free to do their jobs uninhibited (foam in the ears is a unique sensation).
I started out strong, my hair (yay, humidity) blocking my face from the worst of it. Before long, however, it looked about like I went home and took a shower and didn’t rinse the shampoo out. Clothes get soaked, your fingers might just be pruny, you don’t even bother trying to wipe it off anymore.
Now, there’s a strategy to all of this. Most of the time, if you see a friend in the crowd you give em a quick spray, just enough to make yourself known and have a good laugh. However, depending on the dynamics of your relationship with said “friend,” you may end up in the middle of an ambush. If you and your group are instigators, it’s smooth sailing. Make a circle, go for the eyes. Basic warfare, you know. But man, being on the receiving end is rough. You can’t see, so you can’t defend yourself- really the only way out is to run away (blindly, in a crowd, concrete on all sides), or for them to take mercy. Revenge, at that point, becomes an all consuming passion. In the long run, everyone ends up appearing more or less like a drowned rat, so it’s all good.
I was on the receiving end of an ambush more times than I’d like to admit, but I guess I deserved it; My friends and I went through about 10 cans of foam collectively, spraying with abandon.
You'll notice the positioning of my host brother's (far left) can of foam; I got sprayed approx. .3 seconds after this photo was taken. For some reason I did not see this coming.
Run out of foam? Just wipe it off of your face and onto another person!
Post- foam Jill & pals
At 4AM, things were winding down. We went to a nearby restaurant and shared an order of fries, and my friends told me that it was the best Carnaval of their lives. I'm glad they felt the same way I didn.
A downside to all of those shenanigans is that you can’t fall into bed the moment you get home. You gotta shower, which meant I went to bed at 5… and woke up at 8.
My host family and I were headed to Buenos Aires that day, to move my host sister into her new apartment. I of course fell asleep in the car. Didn’t get too long of a nap, though. About halfway to the city, the car broke down. We were #blessed, in a way, though- it rolled to a stop right next to a tollway, which meant shade, bathrooms, and chairs. What did we do while waiting for the tow truck (and host aunt with replacement car) for three hours? Drank mate, obviously.
A few hours and signed papers and new keys later, we were packing the last few things my host sister had into my host dad’s truck (another reason we were #blessed, her “last few things” filled the entire truck bed). Then we took about 10 trips up to the 9th floor in her new building. And drank more mate. I know most of you don’t understand the mate culture (shoutout to my Argentine readers), so allow me to explain. Sharing a ronda of mate is relaxing; it’s almost impossible to angrily sip tea from a gourd. It was the perfect way to unwind from a long, stressful day.
Fast forward two weeks.
My host family and I were headed to the beach again. This time, it wasn’t just to go to the beach. This time, it was to compete. The Enduro Del Verano competition is a motocross and 4- Wheeler competition in the sand dunes, boasting the longest course in the world (12 kilometers). And it was rad.
Thursday, we drove to Villa Gesell, and spent the rest of the day just relaxing on the beach with the other families that we knew. There were a lot of shenanigans, like the kids taking turns being pulled behind a dune buggy on a boogie board, and unnecessary tackling in beach rugby.
Friday was spent at the race track. The competition had two parts: short course and long course. Friday was short course. So, our long course tickets not gaining us entrance to the bleachers, we hiked around to a convenient sand dune and made ourselves comfortable.
Between races, we wandered around the vendor aisles. Probably would have been a lot more interesting for me if I knew anything about motocross. But it was fun anyways- there was a palpable energy in the air, an excitement from all of these people out there to support friends and family in an intense competition.
Me, clearly breaking the Rotary rules.
On Saturday, we went to the track again, but only for half the day. It was practice day for long course, a chance for the competitors to get a feel for the sand course. My host mom and I took pictures from the sand dunes, my host dad played pit- crew, and my host brother, of course, got his chance at the full course.
After eating lunch, packing everything up, and fighting the traffic back to town, I got a short siesta, and headed to the beach. We’d had a total catastrophe trying to plan it, but finally got solid plans to meet up with another exchange student. Margaret and I are from the same district at home, and have had pretty similar experiences with exchange, so it was good to have someone to talk to. I think we confused everyone in our vicinity on the beach- we drank mate and wore Argentine- style clothes, but spoke English.
She invited me out to a local club, and I of course accepted. So I showered, changed, and went out to eat with the fam, then met up with her and a friend. We went to a huge boliche, which was a treat compared to the small ones in my town.
We didn’t stay long, though; we both wanted to see the sunrise on the beach. So we caught a bus around 5, and due to being terrible at estimating sunrise times, froze our butts off at the beach for awhile. It was worth it though; absolutely stunning. At 7 we said our goodbyes, hugged three times, and I went back to the hotel.
My host brother and dad were already awake and headed to the track for race day. Thank goodness they were going early just for set- up- it afforded me two hours of sleep. By 9:30, my host mom and I were headed to the track as well.
That was a long day, but amazing. I’d never seen anything like it. Since the course was so long, they didn’t bother breaking the group up much. Everyone takes off at the same time- you can barely see through the cloud of sand they kick up. There were two heats, upwards of 300 motorcycles in each, and they go around the track 4 times. The noise is incredible. Seeing so many cyclists all go off jumps or around tight curves at the same time is like waiting for a time bomb to go off- you just know that someone’s going to fall, but you don’t know when. I made good use of my long- zoom camera (thanks, Ma!) from the stands, and got some cool shots of our little group of cyclists.
At the start
Lining up
Afterwards came the 4- wheelers, which was also ridiculously loud. Doubly so, actually, since there was only one heat. We ended up leaving that race early since we had no one to cheer for, and I could barely keep my eyes open at that point. Back at the tent, we packed up everything we could, but didn’t get to leave quite yet. Which was actually a super good thing- we had to stick around for the awards ceremony. My host brother placed 2nd out of 60 in his category, because he’s talented AF.
All of the motorcycles and 4- wheelers lined up before the race- yeah, I used panorama to fit it all.
Though I normally can’t sleep in my host dad’s truck, I was exhausted enough that I eventually faded out- with the help of a pillow stolen from my host brother. We got home at midnight, and I basically woke up long enough to walk inside the house before crashing again.
Now, I’m back with the second host family. The days are getting increasingly colder (that’s relative, it’s more like 80 degrees instead of 90), so I’m trying to soak up the last days of pool time that I have. Also gearing up for a potential trip to Mar del Plata, the first day of school, and the Rotary North Trip, all of which will happen in the next 10 days. So look forward to that in the next post!
Besos!
Bonus: A literal representation of how much mate I'm taking home with me.
