Otras Rutas

Passage of Time

August 4, 2008

From the way they make their coffee to the way they dry their clothes, everything moves slower here. In fact, people will look at you funny if you ask to get your coffee to go (I heard all of you gasping). To myself and many of the other students on the program this was a somewhat discomforting fact. Several of us have early classes–and anything before 10.00 is way too early to college students and porteños alike–and the idea that we would have to go sit down in a café or drink it at home before we left is taking some getting used to. To the porteños the idea that you don’t even have half an hour, or for a real porteño an over an hour, to enjoy your medialunas and cafe is bewildering.

I think I would feel safe saying the vast majority of people line dry their clothes and dryers are only for the upper-class elite, hotels, and laundromats. Sage, I will include this tidbit here for you since it falls along the same category: every home you walk into here uses CFLs (to the uninitiated, compact florescent lamps–Google it!). I like to think this outweighs the fact that recycling has yet to catch on in a big way here even though there are people who are called cartoneras who go through all the trash that’s put on the street for collection and separate out the paper because they can get money for it. Basically the equivalent of people in the States who push around grocery carts collecting glass bottles and aluminum cans (and if this is a horrible stereotype, forgive me) except they aren’t homeless and most are your run-of-the-mill, middle-class citizens trying to earn some extra cash flow.

I also like to think that the reason why you don’t see produce labeled as being ‘organic’ is because it all is organic and I’m probably more right about that than I think I am. In fact, as many of you know, in the States I drink only soy or rice milk and substitute gelato or sorbet for ice cream and can’t eat processed cheese because I’ve developed lactose intolerance? That was something that I was incredibly nervous about coming down here because I had no idea how my body was going to react. Especially after finding out that vegetarians are few and far between here I figured I was going to have a real difficult time. As it turns out, soy and/or rice milk are impossible to find and you’ll be lucky if people even know what you’re talking about when you inquire about it, but I have drank cafe con leche (coffee with milk) almost every single day since I have been here, I have eaten ice cream, and I have put milk in my scrambled eggs for breakfast and I have yet to have even the smallest stomach pain from it. If that doesn’t make you question what kinds of additives, hormones, and preservatives must be in our dairy products in the States then I don’t know what will.

I started this post wanting to talk mostly about the speed of life here in Buenos Aires but obviously I’ve deviated from that. There is a slow food movement that is starting to pick up in the United States, but it’s catching on… well, slowly. Even if you don’t ditch the coffee maker for a French press or sell your dryer for a line (though the Earth would appreciate it if you did), I highly recommend trying to slow your life down some. It’s so refreshing to come somewhere where time is not of the essence and showing up on time for a party or a meeting with friends is considered rude. Americans are always rushing to get somewhere or get something accomplished when, really, does it even matter? The world keeps turning…

“To live is so startling that it leaves little time for anything else.” — Emily Dickenson


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¡Bienvenido a Buenos Aires!

July 26, 2008

Much has happened over the past few days and getting settled in to my new home and life has been such a whirlwind that I have had no time to sit down and write about my experiences. I decided a few days ago that I could quite easily pick up and make a semi-permanent home here in Buenos Aires. I say semi-permanent because I’m still not sure I ever see myself staying anywhere for more than a few years at a time. There’s too much of this world to see and experience!

The transition from life in the States to life here in BsAs has been as easy as it has been difficult. Foremost, obviously the language barrier is the most frustrating aspect. It’s hard to put into words how it feels to want to say something to someone and not be able to find words. Or not even just not be able to find the words, but to not even know the words to express a sentiment. I’m surprised by how many people know at least a little bit of English. Most–generally not well enough to speak it, but they are able to pepper their speech with words if you don’t know the Spanish equivalent. I have met a handful who have studied or are studying English in university though and that’s an incredible relief when you’re trying to get a cellphone with prepaid service. Sometimes when people see you struggling with Spanish they’ll automatically switch to English and we have to ask them to continue in Spanish as that’s why we’re here!

We take colectivos (buses) everywhere here and sometimes the subte (subway). I’ve only taken the subte once because I’m more at ease with the colectivos since I can actually see where I’m going. The second day we were here we had a class where we had to learn how to use the Guía “T,” which is basically a little book with pages of maps of all the different barrios (neighborhoods) and the facing page has a table with coordinates to the maps and which colectivos run through that specific area. I was so overwhelmed at first, but once you realize that you have to take a minimum of two buses a day (often more depending on where all you want to go) you pick it up quickly. Aislinn (prounounced similar to Ashley, a girl on the program with me who lives in my building) and I got incredibly lost the second day we were here because they made us find our own way home using the Guía “T.” The following day I got on the right bus but going the wrong direction and ended up at the bus station, but a really nice guy helped me out and then walked me all the way to the gate of my building to make sure I got in okay.

To get on the bus you have to put a one peso moneda (coin) into a machine and it issues you a ticket. However, the thing about these monedas is that they’re somewhat rare. As in, people don’t really deal with change here as you would in the States. Everything has whole pesos prices and the (21%!) tax is already factored into the price on the menu so all you have to add is the 10% tip which is probably almost always given in biletas (bills). Therefore, these monedas are hard to get your hands on and cashiers are reluctant to give you any monedas if you ask for a few in your change. The catch is that to get on the bus you have to have monedas–one peso, the equivalent of about $0.34 US. The bus driver does not have change and will often want to see your moneda before you put it in the machine to get your ticket. The other day I needed monedas for the bus so I went into a little convenience store and asked as politely as I know how for 2 pesos in monedas in exchange for my 2 peso bileta. The man hesitated, explained to me the rarity of monedas and then insisted on me purchasing something in order to get a moneda. Irritated, I looked around at the candy and gum in front of me and not seeing anything for less than $2 A I let out a loud sigh. After about 30 seconds of frantically looking around me he pointed to a basket of chocolate bonbons for $1 A and made me purchase it in order to receive the one peso I needed for the bus. I was so irrate by the end of this encounter, convinced that Argentineans hate Americans (and they do hate Bush), and angry that I didn’t know enough Spanish to say something to him that I just wanted to throw the bonbon in his face. Of course, I have manners so I didn’t do that, but I sure wanted to.

There’s also the problem of traveler’s cheques. No one will cash them. You go to a bank, they’ll tell you that you must be a member. If they don’t tell you that, they’ll tell you that they only place you will get it cashed is at American Express. In my case, this meant finding out where an American Express was located, getting some form of a location (the man was only able to tell me that it was “near” Plaza San Martin, but that if I took a bus there and asked, anyone could tell me where it is), asking at least 4 people before someone was able to even give me a general direction, and then asking a few more people until I finally arrived. In summary, I don’t recommend getting traveler’s cheques. Sure, they’re more secure than cash, but they’re almost so secure that even you can’t cash them and that sort of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? They may be easier in places like the States and Europe (and possibly Canada), but if you’re making any trips to a place even remotely less developed, I promise, you’ll be fine taking cash, a credit, and debit card. Speaking of cards, not many people take those either and American Express is more widely accepted than Visa or Mastercard, and those two more than Discover. I’ve also learned than Citibank has ATMs pretty much all over the world, so if you want to save yourself withdrawel fees, that’s the way to go. Even when a store has a sign that says they take Visa or any other card, you will have people tell you, on more than one occasion, that that sign? It only applies to Argentine cards. I haven’t yet decided if that means it must be from a national bank, or if it’s a minor form of discrimination against Americans, as everyone hates Bush here.

Lastly, I don’t have many pictures yet because I’ve been too busy soaking all this in myself, but I promise to have tons soon. The architecture here is probably the most gorgeous I have ever seen and it gives this city a very quaint, old-world charm despite the fact that the areas we’ve been spending most of our time in for orientation–Recoleta and Retiro–are very much 21st century.


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L’chaim!

July 20, 2008

As I’ve said my goodbyes to many of you we have often made a toast to many good times in Buenos Aires, my safety, the journeys life will take me on in South America and elsewhere. I do not claim to know all the different ways to toast someone, but I do know that of the several I do know my favorite will probably always be, “L’chaim!” To life. Not to health, wealth, or a mere “Cheers,” but to LIFE. And that is all that needs to be said.

I sit here in the airport terminal at George Bush International in Houston, Texas, and nerves are getting worse by the minute. That bottomless pit in my stomach is more nagging and I keep looking around to see who is joining me on this flight hoping to find someone else in the same boat I am. No such luck so far, but the prospect of being in an entirely new city in a little over twelve hours is becoming more exhilarating. I still don’t believe this is really happening and I’m about to spend the next six months of my life in on another continent from my family and friends. I’ve wanted this for so long and it is exactly what I need this semester since Georgia State and Atlanta were starting to burn me out.

I’m trying to get used to the feeling of an airplane taking off and landing, wandering around an airport terminal by yourself, and occupying my time with writing and reading as I wait on my next flight because I want a job that allows me to travel pretty frequently. I’m not sure how–or even if–one ever gets used to saying goodbye to good friends and a good life, or constantly picking up and resetting down roots in different places, but I know that I have thoroughly enjoyed every trip I have taken in the past few years because I have made wonderful new friends and learned things about myself that I wouldn’t have discovered elsewhere.

The rewards of the journey far outweigh the risk of leaving the harbor.

- Unknown

I’m not sure how much more time I’ll have to post over the next few days or weeks, or even how often I’ll have Internet access but I promise to keep writing in my journal and transcribing bits and pieces here when I get the chance.


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Put a candle in the window…

July 15, 2008

Today is my last day in Atlanta and as of right now I’m handling my emotions because the reality that I’m leaving and not coming back for six months is still setting in. I said my goodbyes to a few friends last night and to some of my coworkers from Apple tonight. I was expecting that yesterday would be my last day of work but I am going in for a few hours later this afternoon after I wrap up some last minute things that need to be taken care of.

One particular goodbye from last night got to me in a way I wasn’t expecting. It’s a funny feeling realizing that you aren’t quite sure when you’ll see a person again. A person who has been a constant in your life for almost a year. It was weird to think that the next time we may be together again is in a country on the other side of the world a year and a half from now. My eyes started watering up as a brushed it off and tried to keep my composure but then there’s that last glance before you turn and walk down the driveway and into uncertainty. After I got in my car and drove down the street tears just started streaming down my face.

And if you never stop when you wave goodbye

You just might find if you give it time

You will wave hello again

You just might wave hello again.”John Mayer

Driving, I flashed back to Friday night playing with Dov and Eitan (some friends’ kids that I’m particularly fond of) after Shabbat dinner. Eitan crawled up into my lap, took a deep breath, and then nuzzled his head into my neck to go to sleep. He then proceeded to give me a goodnight kiss after we tucked him in bed. It was all I could do to keep from breaking down then. I kept trying to memorize his little feet and hands, his giggle when I nibble on his toes and bite his feet, and all I kept thinking was how he’s not going to be three years old when I come back and he won’t have his beautiful long, blonde, curly hair anymore.

Leaving Birmingham was never this hard and I’m still trying to figure out why. In a way I’m glad that I’m actually sad about leaving a place as I never usually am. I’m always ready for it when the time comes but this time I’m not. Of course I have to come back for another year to finish school, but there’s something else that I feel is unfinished here and I feel so blessed to have made so many amazing friends here that I’m sad about leaving. If I can just make it through tomorrow I’ll be happy because then I can just cry all the way to Birmingham if I feel the need to. Then from Birmingham it’s nothing but soaking up time with my family and friends there, preparing for the flight and trip, and looking forward to the next exciting chapter in my life.

“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain ‘til you see their specks dispersing? It’s the too-huge world vaulting us and it’s goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”—Jack Kerouac


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