tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34494483283379518872024-03-06T00:44:31.163-08:00La Vida AventureraA record of my time spent studying abroad in Buenos Aires, Argentina.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-58907303470310905462011-11-01T19:58:00.000-07:002011-11-01T19:58:28.831-07:00Breaking UpI've never felt so conflicted before. I desperately, helplessly love Argentina and my life here, and I don't want to leave. I'm simply not ready! But I can't go any longer without going home to my family and friends. (Ojala se pudiera trasladar toda mi vida aca!) I only have five days left. Five. FIVE. Single digits. Less than a week. I want to cry and scream and curl up in a ball and avoid this heart-twisting experience of the end of study abroad. I feel like I haven't done enough. I haven't taken advantage of my time here! I could have done so much more, met so many more people, seen so many more places! I feel like upon leaving I lose those opportunities, even though I know I really don't. I know I could come back, or travel more--to other places, new places I've never been. I think I probably will continue traveling as far as my wallet and my language skills will carry me. But not right now. I need some time to get over my breakup with Argentina. Luckily, tango is sorrow in the form of music, so I have a method of catharsis. Here are a few treats:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/q5NH4lE11CI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/lRnQ6Ha9yMA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-18566932799678641542011-10-29T11:05:00.001-07:002011-10-29T11:05:33.922-07:00If you can read Spanish......here's an <a href="http://www.lanacion.com.ar/1417266-cobijo-para-ninas-y-ancianas-desprotegidas">article</a> about my residence!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-85449099878141895472011-10-25T18:21:00.000-07:002011-10-25T18:21:50.477-07:00Montevideo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, it's official. I'm done traveling outside of Buenos Aires. This past weekend my roommate Katia and I took a weekend getaway to lovely and historical Montevideo, Uruguay. Katia and I had a peaceful weekend seeing sights, sharing in the hostel's chivito dinner Saturday night, and renting bikes and riding along the coast on Sunday before getting on a ferry back across the river to our lovely city.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCVDX1tswZu9QonIe2NOKbACK1Oz3wZX0RTv_qRO9y_ALIDsw_nMU4ygn0eq20O0_q4VEh3R0yFh0k7ymEIHOiana745KY1aR0_tLWVXpqT-TJP-ZNEZWpUera-uVJ4AmlEUl5iEd4Vyhq/s1600/DSCN2933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCVDX1tswZu9QonIe2NOKbACK1Oz3wZX0RTv_qRO9y_ALIDsw_nMU4ygn0eq20O0_q4VEh3R0yFh0k7ymEIHOiana745KY1aR0_tLWVXpqT-TJP-ZNEZWpUera-uVJ4AmlEUl5iEd4Vyhq/s320/DSCN2933.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_VQY7xP1506eKiG9GDaFm89XI8YFubb508uV2jHsScOU4bSoAm6pnVKn286JvJ0kDHZt0_TbxJcg6MWo9SBD9fLXrRVFePJyZKDbenzb1xsUSVC43nzvBIGIEZCqS-XXqvzbOdpr0ReY/s1600/DSCN2944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_VQY7xP1506eKiG9GDaFm89XI8YFubb508uV2jHsScOU4bSoAm6pnVKn286JvJ0kDHZt0_TbxJcg6MWo9SBD9fLXrRVFePJyZKDbenzb1xsUSVC43nzvBIGIEZCqS-XXqvzbOdpr0ReY/s320/DSCN2944.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCcbSMsGxbbaD7EDxBNBoFMGO4MD5xVrP2-dj4ddT0FGmbs-01Y_OKsZ4ppB4fHqEvg2nKREaWVk1Mtyd2GvYtBB1NapdxfCL437TkXoWeVvkboEmPL3Ujrx-FUT3RomgK_kTbQ-1as6S/s1600/RSCN2967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCcbSMsGxbbaD7EDxBNBoFMGO4MD5xVrP2-dj4ddT0FGmbs-01Y_OKsZ4ppB4fHqEvg2nKREaWVk1Mtyd2GvYtBB1NapdxfCL437TkXoWeVvkboEmPL3Ujrx-FUT3RomgK_kTbQ-1as6S/s320/RSCN2967.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wanted to see Montevideo because we had discussed it in my history of tango class as a sort of twin city of Buenos Aires. My professor continually emphasized that the tango was not <i>argentino</i>, but <i>rioplatense</i>, belonging to both shores of the Rio de la Plata.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And as far as shores go, Uruguay is supposed to have some of the best beaches. Unfortunately, once again, it looked pretty much like this all weekend:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I mean, I walked on the beach, but it wasn't exactly what I was hoping for. I guess I've just got to get used to the fact that I lost my summer and I can't get it back. Spring break, anyone?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had a little border scare on the way into Uruguay: I forgot to bring along my student residency document and all they had to go on was my expired tourist visa stamp in my passport. So at 2 a.m., we're stopping at the border (we entered the country on land) and I'm standing there, exhausted, face to face with someone who's telling me that at the very least, I'm going to be fined three hundred pesos. Thank God for technology: they were able to look me up in the computer system and see that, yes, I had obtained the necessary documents and had simply neglected to bring them along. Won't make that mistake again!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now it's just a few papers, a take-home exam, a concert at the Teatro Colon, packing my suitcase, and a relaxing few days of soaking up all I can of Buenos Aires before going home. Bittersweet. </div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-51192051939457822802011-10-20T08:08:00.000-07:002011-10-20T08:08:12.317-07:00RecuperatorioI have an oral exam today, and I'm incredibly nervous. I had to do the same thing in my lit class last week: give a short presentation (just to the professor, not in front of the class) and then answer a few questions about everything we've studied this semester. Not my thing. But what makes it even worse here? The <i>recuperatorio</i>. It's an opportunity for a retake, so it should be reassuring, right? No. Instead I see it more as, "We expect that enough of you will fail that this retake will be necessary and thus is already scheduled." It makes me even more anxious, especially since I don't understand exactly how professors determine grades so I can't feel confident about passing. But luckily, this is my last sit-down exam; everything else is just papers and projects, so once this is over, I can breathe a little easier. Wish me luck!!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-2834710497846637972011-10-19T14:42:00.000-07:002011-10-19T14:42:58.363-07:00Clapton and the avalanche of workOkay. I don't have much time, but I wanted to write a little something about the Eric Clapton concert I went to last week. <br />
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I know Clapton is an untouchable god of rock and blues, but I didn't realize how much I admired him until he walked on stage (already jamming the hell out) and I burst into tears. It probably surprised me more than it surprises anyone reading this. He continued dominating for two solid hours, with a rotation of three guitars, hitting some of the classics: "Layla," "Lay Down Sally," "I Shot the Sheriff," a faux-closing with "Cocaine" and, coming back on stage for an encore, blew us away with "Crossroads." I was riding a concert high most of the weekend, and then I realized that this week is the week from hell. I have an exam tomorrow, a paper due next Tuesday, and two papers due the following week. So I'm buckling down (finally) and powering through the next fourteen days. Then I have four days to pack my suitcase, do my final gift shopping, hit the city sights I still haven't gotten to, and get ready to board a plane back home.<br />
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Things I will not miss:<br />
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<ul><li>the toilet being in the shower</li>
<li>living in an all-girls' dorm</li>
<li>the complete absence of comfortable furniture ANYWHERE in this country</li>
<li>being a foreigner</li>
<li>the glitchy Internet connections</li>
<li>strange paper products (i.e. napkins that are basically wax paper)</li>
</ul><div>Things I will miss:</div><div><ul><li>food</li>
<li>friends</li>
<li>the opportunity to exercise my Spanish skills</li>
<li>the wine</li>
<li>being of legal drinking age</li>
<li>the city itself</li>
<li>the prevailing feeling of adventure</li>
</ul><div>Things I'm eager to go home to:</div></div><div><ul><li>my family</li>
<li>my house</li>
<ul><li>couch</li>
<li>bed</li>
<li>kitchen</li>
</ul><li>my dogs</li>
<li>my friends</li>
<li>my town</li>
<li>English</li>
<li>my country</li>
</ul><div>I'm going to Montevideo this weekend, so hopefully I'll get a chance to write about it next week. If not, I'll do a reminiscing entry my last week here. I leave you with this:</div></div><div><br />
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</div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-15684263448149396082011-10-13T13:21:00.000-07:002011-10-13T13:21:55.430-07:00Mar del PlataBack in June, Maria and I set out to choose our trips, where we would go and when. We scheduled Mar del Plata, Buenos Aires' #1 beach town, in early October, supposedly when the weather was getting nice and just before finals started. As usual, the universe laughed at us. Spring in Buenos Aires is rainy and windy. And exams started the week before we went on our long-awaited beach weekend. We were both dying for it, too. We'd missed our whole summer at home; we'd had to see pictures and statuses from friends who had vacationed at the beach; we'd seen their tans and been filled with envy. But now it was our turn, right?!<br />
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Wrong.<br />
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Here's what Mar del Plata looked like the entire weekend that we were there:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0bfzCO4akeXZ_9K97st7nIaxFoKR5TqWHWUXEat4UahN44BZGGQpATnVEjGco33MUzcSghxMfvJEfm3CtNw2cEjWmUo8Cv4SxwmaJSc4_xtzhRqBxj_U2fKIOa8kRLClcNQFHtFUdikj/s1600/DSCN2862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0bfzCO4akeXZ_9K97st7nIaxFoKR5TqWHWUXEat4UahN44BZGGQpATnVEjGco33MUzcSghxMfvJEfm3CtNw2cEjWmUo8Cv4SxwmaJSc4_xtzhRqBxj_U2fKIOa8kRLClcNQFHtFUdikj/s320/DSCN2862.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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But, guess what? We didn't care. We rolled with it, as we have become so adept at doing. Luckily, we had gotten a private twin room in the hostel/hotel we were staying in, and even more luckily, that room had a TV. Instead of lazing around on the beach all weekend as planned, we lazed around indoors. I believe this captures the essence of the weekend:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4E9QTsVr4u2NdQOSlBRighfdUpN3OcVY0n9Rx6t-Ty0R5xecRcrPWrTMmBJ37szGHzRq3l9Yl8a_aN7U9bnR3Lj24YHK8MJ3-wbP70cbRNahv8cU2nmcmSppd84ulMCoVqX5PgehihBh_/s1600/DSCN2805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4E9QTsVr4u2NdQOSlBRighfdUpN3OcVY0n9Rx6t-Ty0R5xecRcrPWrTMmBJ37szGHzRq3l9Yl8a_aN7U9bnR3Lj24YHK8MJ3-wbP70cbRNahv8cU2nmcmSppd84ulMCoVqX5PgehihBh_/s320/DSCN2805.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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We did leave the hotel plenty: we went out to eat, we shopped in the Guemes area of Mar del Plata (where we both splurged a little on some nice and highly-discounted clothing items), we went out to the Monumento a San Salvador and saw more sea lions, and we went to the Museo del Mar. The weekend wasn't our typical high-speed, exploratory adventure. It was more an escape. With a week or so of finals over and two or three more weeks to go, we needed to get away and just relax. And that's exactly what we did. Movies, ice cream, Malbec, seafood, shopping, and mate. Mar del Plata.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raya</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiburon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8_r946fPPEoM65Wp49bdgWFG0IYTJmeQquScR2elUS1EXhJs_Pb3rxWW9FCDs_1HkTIL2yJjRpZYGEEK3tMjAEAjrXAxYTzm0s7lNiOLYNT8rdFbcLJVkiKQHuJlwuuuM6CdD-bYv81c/s1600/DSCN2825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8_r946fPPEoM65Wp49bdgWFG0IYTJmeQquScR2elUS1EXhJs_Pb3rxWW9FCDs_1HkTIL2yJjRpZYGEEK3tMjAEAjrXAxYTzm0s7lNiOLYNT8rdFbcLJVkiKQHuJlwuuuM6CdD-bYv81c/s320/DSCN2825.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know what this is.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZIsD7EOlZIIdW6UoQFSAKOhhkZcI9Q64cwDjW8AqoiyvMJnTZw5PPe9zcTJvBg9gJ6W9yZJqnatIiTiR6LnFl3BFQbWln0Ldu5RxPE_Y2BTni0ZI7anGMqTXsErfwvvyPoukJroTXmKk8/s1600/DSCN2877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZIsD7EOlZIIdW6UoQFSAKOhhkZcI9Q64cwDjW8AqoiyvMJnTZw5PPe9zcTJvBg9gJ6W9yZJqnatIiTiR6LnFl3BFQbWln0Ldu5RxPE_Y2BTni0ZI7anGMqTXsErfwvvyPoukJroTXmKk8/s320/DSCN2877.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ship graveyard</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSaEsgIFdpWRXPRisVoc5v0ok1822ZuhEPlbJEDaMay5Eu-jYQILO9Sfsp2T40xJj6GoHgysba0jSyBz7fAMcUJ_qtDIqPdc4NjqgJL4rM1sH619zOsIvws2BuoH-25MYe7eoajDsSNV5a/s1600/DSCN2863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSaEsgIFdpWRXPRisVoc5v0ok1822ZuhEPlbJEDaMay5Eu-jYQILO9Sfsp2T40xJj6GoHgysba0jSyBz7fAMcUJ_qtDIqPdc4NjqgJL4rM1sH619zOsIvws2BuoH-25MYe7eoajDsSNV5a/s320/DSCN2863.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monumento a San Salvador <br />
(aka "Creepy Jesus" statue)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vTn49c_Xp6pM36Hiq6c2SbyH8DpzOX6_7FIO1jQCOHLHyIHm06hzkOywt0YINV0vNVpqPjk38Sv6wmJ2LnzPl5KXGVGmJxMWzgtoCQjlzVxLb0uD5ZKBgPp1cwV7FVuD2KnS8IqU382b/s1600/DSCN2871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vTn49c_Xp6pM36Hiq6c2SbyH8DpzOX6_7FIO1jQCOHLHyIHm06hzkOywt0YINV0vNVpqPjk38Sv6wmJ2LnzPl5KXGVGmJxMWzgtoCQjlzVxLb0uD5ZKBgPp1cwV7FVuD2KnS8IqU382b/s320/DSCN2871.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More sea lions!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ZFTQSLFAsH_EsHuMY2ejj0zGbhgl25gMPGHddBG-81q-M1i6gs2tBH1DXYzU0Ou54dqNqzpT703tRiayfGno58kYRAFSjzfAKLh519BHk1N7doFB8vS4wkJ-h68zkhthy9sxL20L0U_G/s1600/DSCN2835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ZFTQSLFAsH_EsHuMY2ejj0zGbhgl25gMPGHddBG-81q-M1i6gs2tBH1DXYzU0Ou54dqNqzpT703tRiayfGno58kYRAFSjzfAKLh519BHk1N7doFB8vS4wkJ-h68zkhthy9sxL20L0U_G/s320/DSCN2835.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Malbec</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPumIg3_RKqrOYmWLGJvOOBPOvjKfLVaYuaI4cz1rhoLxL-rFKzoZ8bFV50M4Frj9HmJYkiaE_Lvgt0k1J7evCSeq-OibGOTY0FG82mtoDbAIgHI6s0gBD9_LmuHUNHKjODOLQYbBZw-Vd/s1600/DSCN2833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPumIg3_RKqrOYmWLGJvOOBPOvjKfLVaYuaI4cz1rhoLxL-rFKzoZ8bFV50M4Frj9HmJYkiaE_Lvgt0k1J7evCSeq-OibGOTY0FG82mtoDbAIgHI6s0gBD9_LmuHUNHKjODOLQYbBZw-Vd/s320/DSCN2833.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pizza.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I'm hoping to get some beach time if and when I visit Montevideo in Uruguay in a few weeks. It should be warmer by then...right? I guess we'll see.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-78982487000425382072011-09-27T18:04:00.000-07:002011-09-27T18:04:36.875-07:00El frío patagónico<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>On the first official day of spring, I found myself in the dead of winter in the south of Argentina. Getting off the bus in Puerto Piramides, the cold ran through me as if I were in upstate New York in the middle of January. I thought Maria was going to cry.<br />
<br />
Getting to that point was a challenge. Tuesday night we missed our first bus and had to leave an hour later than planned, pushing our arrival time in Madryn closer to 4:00 pm, at which time the shuttle leaves to Piramides out on the Peninsula. We actually arrived at exactly 4:00, hopping off our bus with just enough time to buy tickets and hop on the other. Unfortunately what we didn't have time to do was buy our tickets for Saturday to get back to Buenos Aires, which would later become a problem. But before it did, we proceeded to have an absolutely incredible week. <br />
<br />
We got to Piramides and sprinted up to the hostel-- not far since Piramides has basically 2 streets and they aren't very long-- with two French girls who had gotten off the same bus. Diva, the fantastic old woman who we had pestered with questions and estimates and help planning our trip, greeted us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTspWyCEgnfBEbvveeFKT8H3o5iFmB9a68hMobc14LKo8AX82SG6zZJzxxbtIiiG1RFR2IA9aOPemhKtbTrvfdVgjyDeEFUlPOsZ8Ly7e-hMFIENSvQsqC0R5lB_QLlMO59bA-a20dkFL/s1600/RSCN2787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTspWyCEgnfBEbvveeFKT8H3o5iFmB9a68hMobc14LKo8AX82SG6zZJzxxbtIiiG1RFR2IA9aOPemhKtbTrvfdVgjyDeEFUlPOsZ8Ly7e-hMFIENSvQsqC0R5lB_QLlMO59bA-a20dkFL/s320/RSCN2787.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at her. She's awesome.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNaE47DrJlZl7y9renkxousNwpBjInJhdbkapLF5D-moNMq4KJiRJIs6x1wzxQ-zUTbdJCRwHaivS4uyvQZQlX0e22iIOuz9MQuRk3giwJx2EA-cK4wfcdpYevOEViF8t7mdOWsrGl843/s1600/DSCN2752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNaE47DrJlZl7y9renkxousNwpBjInJhdbkapLF5D-moNMq4KJiRJIs6x1wzxQ-zUTbdJCRwHaivS4uyvQZQlX0e22iIOuz9MQuRk3giwJx2EA-cK4wfcdpYevOEViF8t7mdOWsrGl843/s320/DSCN2752.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We were a little nervous that night when they told us that the sea had been rough and we might not be able to do the water-based excursions (whale watch, snorkeling) that we had planned on. With some free time, we got a bit of studying done and then went and had an excellent seafood dinner at a really cool little restaurant called La Estacion. And we slept well that night, thanks to a bounty of heavy blankets and beds more comfortable than the ones we have here at the Resi.<br />
<br />
The next day we woke up early for breakfast, which each morning was personally served to us, instead of there being a self-serve buffet like most hostels. Diva sets a place for each of her guests and makes sure they have everything they need. A little before noon we went down to the Bottazzi excursions office for our whale watch.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUyLwaPWf-kpbWXkkJoe7PUB4PCnicoEZ82p90f_a5rqQjS-gcwdQ7IyejYEQvJfi7Iye-lUOcofbAXlDPecm1-p2bBYatv67-9j04bsfnBfZ7rA4PBMakpCsimr8GfLsPAJvLB3EqB3L/s1600/DSCN2618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUyLwaPWf-kpbWXkkJoe7PUB4PCnicoEZ82p90f_a5rqQjS-gcwdQ7IyejYEQvJfi7Iye-lUOcofbAXlDPecm1-p2bBYatv67-9j04bsfnBfZ7rA4PBMakpCsimr8GfLsPAJvLB3EqB3L/s320/DSCN2618.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It went well.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePisQOigdnY7g-OYlRF0uCRn-nTAjuylZzZAJphR7dO3-wx-yDoC8q7_yx0PCdtt8p1yrspVrau_OvV8aEIdJ1kZz31n1ZpR2PBzG7nDy4PEPE4-yphqEQgYDUgJb16OZ2RBGj-CeSBcw/s1600/RSCN2789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePisQOigdnY7g-OYlRF0uCRn-nTAjuylZzZAJphR7dO3-wx-yDoC8q7_yx0PCdtt8p1yrspVrau_OvV8aEIdJ1kZz31n1ZpR2PBzG7nDy4PEPE4-yphqEQgYDUgJb16OZ2RBGj-CeSBcw/s320/RSCN2789.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whales are HUGE...and awesome.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The guide (who we later came to know as Miguel Bottazzi) kept saying what luck we were having on this watch, because we saw a whole lot of whales. There were several mothers with their babies, since it was the start of spring. They came up close to the boat, rolling around in the water, bobbing their heads up and waving their tails at us. Despite the cold wind and the constant need to kneel, then stand up, then kneel, every time a whale appeared on one side of the boat or the other (so that everyone could see), it was an absolutely fantastic experience.<br />
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When we got back to shore, we stopped at the little market and bought some bread, cheese, wine, sauce, and pizza crusts, having decided to cook for ourselves in the hostel. We made a really excellent pizza and enjoyed the wine. Staying at this hostel was sort of like being at someone's house, most likely a grandmother. It was cozy and relaxed and homey. I loved it.<br />
<br />
The next day, while sitting outside Bottazzi, waiting to head out on our land excursion across the Peninsula, Miguel, the guide from the whale watch, saw us and came over to chat. He asked us if we were on the whale watch the previous day, and we said yes. He asked if we were staying in Piramides, and we said yes. Then he invited us to an asado that night, to which we undoubtedly said yes. This was just after we had been invited out for drinks by the adorable kiosco boy across the street. We ended up missing that opportunity, but it didn't matter, because the asado was one of the best nights I've had since I've been here. We arrived and realized we were the only outsiders there. Everyone else was either a Bottazzi employee or a local business owner. It was like we had been invited to hang out with the cool kids. I'm not sure why we were the only tourists welcomed into this inner circle, but I'm glad we were. We were with the core of the Piramides social scene. These people were the life of the party. After we finished a delicious meal, we went across the way to a little bar where we sat and drank and chatted well into the night. They didn't let us pay for a thing. I think my favorite character-- because these people were really characters; I think a movie should be made about this town-- was the ship captain, a wizened old guy who got really drunk and started whispering life's secrets to Maria, then later told me I was an angel with soft hands. They all seemed to be calling him Nene, which is an affectionate term that means little boy. He was hilarious. They all were so much fun; I hated to see that night end.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyr0mZ4apMemd9t_7g75os8s8K7buJD9rVvuon1ONs7AWYnamqmSS7rPDN4sYkD7NQthoo0xrHDX9QPqkYX3erxNc_Kd5JT2-YWOiwnf2XcB2SACdnfFuYm7PN9d3GxQcqQGFmuX3vMUOr/s1600/DSCN2756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyr0mZ4apMemd9t_7g75os8s8K7buJD9rVvuon1ONs7AWYnamqmSS7rPDN4sYkD7NQthoo0xrHDX9QPqkYX3erxNc_Kd5JT2-YWOiwnf2XcB2SACdnfFuYm7PN9d3GxQcqQGFmuX3vMUOr/s320/DSCN2756.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bar we went to</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The next day, our final day in Piramides, we did the most exciting and expensive excursion yet. We donned wetsuits, hopped on a little boat, and went out to snorkel with the sea lions. I don't know if I can put into words how excited I was or how incredible the experience was. We went out on a private excursion, with Juan, who has thirty years of experience doing this. Although most of the sea lions weren't really interested in us, four or five hopped in and swam around us. The image that sticks in my head is the sea lion (lobo marino in Spanish) lying on the floor of the gulf, staring up at me curiously. None of them wanted to play with us; they just wanted to check us out (and their apparent disinterest knocked fifty pesos off the price), but I was not disappointed by the experience at all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimf1F5uWgkLtOHpiOiL4aW9ldMyuQi6kNJZ5voiG2Tsjrc2CwDcm361ZNvi_uGQK2O_a_IFNpLDZQeu33X3JO8tymLfIe34aZzJ38LLLXiQCmhPfu7h-RLnn2rSAK_GP1GTjJAWW_KzBpd/s1600/DSCN2776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimf1F5uWgkLtOHpiOiL4aW9ldMyuQi6kNJZ5voiG2Tsjrc2CwDcm361ZNvi_uGQK2O_a_IFNpLDZQeu33X3JO8tymLfIe34aZzJ38LLLXiQCmhPfu7h-RLnn2rSAK_GP1GTjJAWW_KzBpd/s320/DSCN2776.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let's roooooll</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn72vZk_cGQFke59-MXBUzfVtSZSEfpU9yIu14P5Dhj3zObT_AUT8zxeUgw3sa9jWe2j0NxRJhZ-79nPwWMuyHDlkX1XakournPa94Y8K0cjssP0Nzv3vZOqgmWNw4mjyaKaussiv5tQ_P/s1600/RSCN2684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn72vZk_cGQFke59-MXBUzfVtSZSEfpU9yIu14P5Dhj3zObT_AUT8zxeUgw3sa9jWe2j0NxRJhZ-79nPwWMuyHDlkX1XakournPa94Y8K0cjssP0Nzv3vZOqgmWNw4mjyaKaussiv5tQ_P/s320/RSCN2684.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sea lion wandering the beach at Punta Norte</td></tr>
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<br />
After the snorkeling expedition, we paid, changed, said goodbye to Diva and, at 6:00pm, got on the colectivo back to Puerto Madryn. We had been calling the bus services for nearly two straight days with no answer, so we were hoping to be able to buy tickets to Buenos Aires for that same night, once we got there. That did not happen. All of the guys at the ticket windows looked at us in disbelief when we asked for a bus that night. They didn't have to check their computers; they knew there was no way we were getting out of town that night. In disbelief, we literally asked every different company and they all said the same thing. Without really grasping our situation, we bought tickets for the 2:00pm bus the next day and found ourselves a hostel for that night. We both had the blues, thinking that if we were going to be stuck down here for another night, we'd have liked to at least still be in Piramides, instead of stupid Puerto Madryn. (It's not a bad town, really, we were just bummed and in shock). At the hostel that night, a drunk guy offered us free dinner and gave us a bottle of Fernet. We drank, we ate, we finally got on the computer-- since Diva's hostel hadn't had reliable WiFi-- and we went to sleep. The next day we got on the bus, and twenty hours later arrived back in this beautiful city, where it had to have been nearly eighty degrees. It felt like a homecoming, which I guess it sort of was. Though this is obviously not home (I'm noticing more lately the absence of the little comforts of home that I'll go without for six more weeks), it's a home base for the time I'm here. And I love it.<br />
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Here are some things we saw on our land excursions...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFYrkviz_0oX5TSzY92cmEO4yOkhVMnXcpeGXQsX7L-s4cvjmH9S2a0N0KvMYOQ-atAJ9vBNZ3y5iOkKctuy76u8LYV56ed-QKQ3NQ5P09h05nnfv9ZE75Gvb-8po0Fl54QdsmIi-KX_x/s1600/DSCN2770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFYrkviz_0oX5TSzY92cmEO4yOkhVMnXcpeGXQsX7L-s4cvjmH9S2a0N0KvMYOQ-atAJ9vBNZ3y5iOkKctuy76u8LYV56ed-QKQ3NQ5P09h05nnfv9ZE75Gvb-8po0Fl54QdsmIi-KX_x/s320/DSCN2770.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beach in Piramides</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAq9aAqlwPSepjeghgSt45fx6yidinnTLmKrFkCCHrcHVJ-VgLvUOJkQu6QtVO4OETM11G4CUjvRAnbQqSJolGmzjGtLY3hsNpYEYGqXL1X7O_HtJ87-0QGwtJfknTdQhIzrOZtTR8e_3A/s1600/RSCN2720.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAq9aAqlwPSepjeghgSt45fx6yidinnTLmKrFkCCHrcHVJ-VgLvUOJkQu6QtVO4OETM11G4CUjvRAnbQqSJolGmzjGtLY3hsNpYEYGqXL1X7O_HtJ87-0QGwtJfknTdQhIzrOZtTR8e_3A/s320/RSCN2720.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mother elephant seal and her pup</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaxhk3tpiL4_X5UFYZfblggqng0iKXjOwchjDHJ-YVc0Np6d7QdP3XqjuCpCOMAK80rV1y8TS4LsH6em7yLU1AY4aNAR_j2V8uHc3bsu_K1Fyj6vXYvA-3YNjZf2tPjOkz2bRE4O8Cr4i/s1600/DSCN2700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaxhk3tpiL4_X5UFYZfblggqng0iKXjOwchjDHJ-YVc0Np6d7QdP3XqjuCpCOMAK80rV1y8TS4LsH6em7yLU1AY4aNAR_j2V8uHc3bsu_K1Fyj6vXYvA-3YNjZf2tPjOkz2bRE4O8Cr4i/s320/DSCN2700.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magellanic penguins</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQijjM5zwQKvLpnHfsqWCqf40tIESr1jbKfhPz1uatzKT48dOzy_6WcRAUlHX_TH2F04Djxleeaod7TS2_fPphjoPUF_N4lU03YfxuuukiTQWVJDnV_Qg9GKbG0eyquKoO3u0O3Sx1u8l/s1600/RSCN2683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQijjM5zwQKvLpnHfsqWCqf40tIESr1jbKfhPz1uatzKT48dOzy_6WcRAUlHX_TH2F04Djxleeaod7TS2_fPphjoPUF_N4lU03YfxuuukiTQWVJDnV_Qg9GKbG0eyquKoO3u0O3Sx1u8l/s320/RSCN2683.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male elephant seal</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzppecUdbOf0neQ9IH0GKxO2RhCi4WjW3YteH9V_tzjkAk17nFXG21UQMdQxTGWU0mY_BsaMsiCTcXGO_MndBkTqTk5pjJQ_VUB3YBsIhKGh0f7xm3zEHjYmLG29gHAJMUL1oX2Kz0nYQG/s1600/DSCN2637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzppecUdbOf0neQ9IH0GKxO2RhCi4WjW3YteH9V_tzjkAk17nFXG21UQMdQxTGWU0mY_BsaMsiCTcXGO_MndBkTqTk5pjJQ_VUB3YBsIhKGh0f7xm3zEHjYmLG29gHAJMUL1oX2Kz0nYQG/s320/DSCN2637.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view on the 5km walk to see some sea lions</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhallY4hDhmHP9dKaVJzIsKgofKiQYq-ztdFd1P-RiFhAQtbE1nms1GUeRpe43rsYLiHtIyW6_wvLOF4s_9rUdB-QQb4fRV5hQ-OjhMoJ5muiGR009YmOJfgXaa7c36XWdCqKgnmqVfVZKs/s1600/DSCN2768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhallY4hDhmHP9dKaVJzIsKgofKiQYq-ztdFd1P-RiFhAQtbE1nms1GUeRpe43rsYLiHtIyW6_wvLOF4s_9rUdB-QQb4fRV5hQ-OjhMoJ5muiGR009YmOJfgXaa7c36XWdCqKgnmqVfVZKs/s320/DSCN2768.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUszIJMxUNv5sdC2mH4O0sh4ec8ub6xbN8trSR9z1accJg76y-i85WB42kwfC4fg-9k0VAgdbBae2rfmEtoxQ0ywne4HZfKucFagQKT8SV7d9jELExGtRjuW5O5UczU8C_poFLUGaFpWyu/s1600/DSCN2660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUszIJMxUNv5sdC2mH4O0sh4ec8ub6xbN8trSR9z1accJg76y-i85WB42kwfC4fg-9k0VAgdbBae2rfmEtoxQ0ywne4HZfKucFagQKT8SV7d9jELExGtRjuW5O5UczU8C_poFLUGaFpWyu/s320/DSCN2660.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Punta Norte and the elephant seals</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyCIySIusP4WSp7tX3TNuv5Zpr6TlLEpdfbpDLkBaU-528hTNgRB0WsUA985gGRfao5IDxwF1lOdTuUq7v3AltF5ss0hwFpQAMYCarZQE1tgrJT9uTeiAf99KG2nQcwwfFEKm0incaSAjv/s1600/DSCN2650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyCIySIusP4WSp7tX3TNuv5Zpr6TlLEpdfbpDLkBaU-528hTNgRB0WsUA985gGRfao5IDxwF1lOdTuUq7v3AltF5ss0hwFpQAMYCarZQE1tgrJT9uTeiAf99KG2nQcwwfFEKm0incaSAjv/s320/DSCN2650.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Punta Norte</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<br />
So, in sum:<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Days away from Bs As: 5</li>
<li>Nights in hostels: 4</li>
<li>Nights on buses: 2</li>
<li>Hostels stayed in: 2</li>
<li>Mind-blowing meals: 3</li>
<li>Nights where we got free food and alcohol: 2</li>
<li>Nature excursions: 3</li>
</ul><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWU044ad6sJYocjOFqCCoSC5wVxsA-Ggk0_SxxckDmF7ohWM_oxAbE1slgYsC0ITzK4LnMN29ByJKhbudZWa52zO0IESEeFSC8MivWKwA5KtWLE4wtT0-WDmdNvTfi_UxOoEmW9LTv03B/s1600/DSCN2772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWU044ad6sJYocjOFqCCoSC5wVxsA-Ggk0_SxxckDmF7ohWM_oxAbE1slgYsC0ITzK4LnMN29ByJKhbudZWa52zO0IESEeFSC8MivWKwA5KtWLE4wtT0-WDmdNvTfi_UxOoEmW9LTv03B/s320/DSCN2772.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2MiDrCuAWPbCHSNc877hwfP1uiKIYupn4JpszaKx7WVX4Z43rFvxCvMGHGJX7m-fKOtHUH-Al5nD2v2Zb3kvAdo395mWespU_dJh78Y7fKrgf-LEACN_JFLLNy73FtFijkTRjRQT_JPD/s1600/DSCN2582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2MiDrCuAWPbCHSNc877hwfP1uiKIYupn4JpszaKx7WVX4Z43rFvxCvMGHGJX7m-fKOtHUH-Al5nD2v2Zb3kvAdo395mWespU_dJh78Y7fKrgf-LEACN_JFLLNy73FtFijkTRjRQT_JPD/s320/DSCN2582.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
This week begins the part of the semester where I actually have to do work. But next weekend is Mar del Plata, the weekend after is Eric Clapton, and who knows what I'll be up to in the last two weeks of October. I'll be sure to write about it. Chau!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-19856428716780927442011-09-11T21:37:00.000-07:002011-09-11T21:37:58.641-07:00A conocer mi ciudad...Who knew Buenos Aires had a Chinatown? Well, it really doesn't. What it does have is "el barrio chino," which is about two blocks long and full of odd little novelty shops and a few markets. But they do have the big archway. I went there with Katia and two girls from the Resi (Martina and Josefina) on Saturday to do a little shopping. Jose studies design and fashion and all that artistic sort of stuff, so she wanted to hit these little shops that have all the random things that you can't find anywhere else. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BwEV0srEy7srDlqmkMy_g2y42fd4v_q2vpAd7LELpHM7E4etwy0eoY94coNMwRxArUY4TvNgN5lLTMmyX_xhp6aFrQ6yEQz09GrXBi6eRFxE6s1BsVfXKKfBNhn8mwbYV5MjtZnCw4Sa/s1600/DSCN2572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BwEV0srEy7srDlqmkMy_g2y42fd4v_q2vpAd7LELpHM7E4etwy0eoY94coNMwRxArUY4TvNgN5lLTMmyX_xhp6aFrQ6yEQz09GrXBi6eRFxE6s1BsVfXKKfBNhn8mwbYV5MjtZnCw4Sa/s320/DSCN2572.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bienvenidos al barrio chino de Buenos Aires! Yeah, you can pretty much see all of it in this picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVrCTd3JQF0wkKU0VA2CXMqvu5qsp8pZ7_m4ITYzZ4IvuBUilMU-wBbxDQZdur8GkvpaHKti3kU9SC9qi0VpEEFUQ2Q-xnB7ZbrKvkglxKMM8lCnw5vXRt2dFMVurcoI64LdUg5iiuCk4/s1600/DSCN2575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVrCTd3JQF0wkKU0VA2CXMqvu5qsp8pZ7_m4ITYzZ4IvuBUilMU-wBbxDQZdur8GkvpaHKti3kU9SC9qi0VpEEFUQ2Q-xnB7ZbrKvkglxKMM8lCnw5vXRt2dFMVurcoI64LdUg5iiuCk4/s320/DSCN2575.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katia, Jose, y yo :)<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The rest of the day I spent watching TV and drinking mate with Katia and Marilina. Something about spending downtime in the Resi this weekend made me feel so at home. Of course I start to feel at home now that it's half over. I know I'll probably mention this in every single post I write from now on, but HOLY CRAP I have such little time left. I just looked at my calendar. A week from Tuesday we go to Puerto Madryn/Puerto Piramides for almost a week, then I have two papers due that week, and an exam the following week. That weekend we go to Mar del Plata. The following weekend we see Eric Clapton. The week after that, another exam. The week after that? THE END OF OCTOBER. You know what that means? The beginning of November. You know what <b>that</b> means? Back to the U.S. I'm never going to be able to reconcile the extreme happiness and the extreme sorrow of going home and leaving here. That's exactly it. I do want to be home with my family and friends, but I don't want to leave Buenos Aires. Hmm...which to transplant, my life or a major South American metropolis?<br />
<br />
Off to bed. Lots of homework this week...probably since up to this point I haven't really done any.<br />
Besos!! Chau!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-55683820111767839732011-09-08T19:01:00.000-07:002011-09-08T19:01:43.779-07:00Karps AbroadNot even a full week after I returned from Cordoba, my parents arrived in Buenos Aires. I can't really describe how incredible it was the day they arrived. Once I got word that they had landed, and spoke to my mom (via Katia's MagicJack phone contraption), I made my way to their hotel immediately. I was shaking as I walked to the stop, boarded the bus, watched for my stop, and got off directly in front of the Marriott Plaza Hotel. I was already smiling when I got in the elevator. I knocked on the door of their room and waited. As soon as my dad opened the door, I burst into tears. Skype is great, and Facebook, and every other type of technology that lets us keep in touch across oceans and time zones, but you realize what a joke it all is when you finally see the people you love in person. Skype, ooVoo, all types of videochatting-- they're super impressive and I would be miserable without them, but they're just...they're just nothing. They're a Band-Aid, they're the best we can do for now, but really? They're nothing.<br />
<br />
So despite the fact that they had been traveling for days and were exhausted, we jumped right in and walked from their hotel in Retiro to the Recoleta market. I kept them going at a quick pace all week; we saw (and ate in) all of the major barrios: Recoleta, Puerto Madero, Palermo, San Telmo, el Centro, and La Boca. They even made it out to Colonia in Uruguay by themselves on a day I had class. I was so proud. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAUveQGP-8wnXcOVpMsOaH4hC293xGbXH5PacqwuZ84mEpHHWXzsVnK6x6rTME8HHR833wCsB9lvmQEWV7dg145uF-1HM8e9DFT6BaUHh6TJHmi0Ff_PBsjEnyF6QnOXIp1HxuBToQ3qr/s1600/DSCN2468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAUveQGP-8wnXcOVpMsOaH4hC293xGbXH5PacqwuZ84mEpHHWXzsVnK6x6rTME8HHR833wCsB9lvmQEWV7dg145uF-1HM8e9DFT6BaUHh6TJHmi0Ff_PBsjEnyF6QnOXIp1HxuBToQ3qr/s320/DSCN2468.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the balcony of their hotel room</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJM1wRxUjexBAGH2yz6PbwpdHQH4KScJ8AvoNW5nWO9Tm9TqQFRhMv4BZtVcsLHNCReVW_4uAj5v2oXnV2mc5kQe0b7CIpu4Yb3VP0G5YaEQw8VaxfOOHSf5d0BmklIrQFjejnrJcZNj3j/s1600/DSCN2472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJM1wRxUjexBAGH2yz6PbwpdHQH4KScJ8AvoNW5nWO9Tm9TqQFRhMv4BZtVcsLHNCReVW_4uAj5v2oXnV2mc5kQe0b7CIpu4Yb3VP0G5YaEQw8VaxfOOHSf5d0BmklIrQFjejnrJcZNj3j/s320/DSCN2472.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Of course, I introduced them to mate...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8FJT8dfS6cHAJeDCC6NFXqkWJMbbqons5YiuliXflAfhbdAwnzOU4I3UEWloKQgL9GS3aBiKbJIAShUeLvFILjQIQju5ZczzkpGHW-w6Io-R7VxyomtLtIyhiC4GRYlC7aw0hM_LFl2I/s1600/DSCN2476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8FJT8dfS6cHAJeDCC6NFXqkWJMbbqons5YiuliXflAfhbdAwnzOU4I3UEWloKQgL9GS3aBiKbJIAShUeLvFILjQIQju5ZczzkpGHW-w6Io-R7VxyomtLtIyhiC4GRYlC7aw0hM_LFl2I/s320/DSCN2476.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgV7oiVm9Rlb35Fpe6PxmZnJTikzoALExmJuplVh-9wfkInRaOVU0_-rwRjqi19kT6XzLFNc8elyykUgOz0DoqEWwVLyRP3htbHBOZ5MjoP7QXZlcVU90FhEJMI-6xDV1E-qmvO1VBdWe/s1600/DSCN2478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgV7oiVm9Rlb35Fpe6PxmZnJTikzoALExmJuplVh-9wfkInRaOVU0_-rwRjqi19kT6XzLFNc8elyykUgOz0DoqEWwVLyRP3htbHBOZ5MjoP7QXZlcVU90FhEJMI-6xDV1E-qmvO1VBdWe/s320/DSCN2478.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El Caminito</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipckbpVmWx8hDiy1iU19w1Y2kXanGRJqXp_vK2Nx7JXjSVt4CCCLug08f1cbRVQc5YEgGVgRX71N7QzpvF5gC7-l_SsD07TGViyg1JGCJsdL_myyjr-14kO2iA4TB05DC4RKtlqLIXypmI/s1600/DSCN2489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipckbpVmWx8hDiy1iU19w1Y2kXanGRJqXp_vK2Nx7JXjSVt4CCCLug08f1cbRVQc5YEgGVgRX71N7QzpvF5gC7-l_SsD07TGViyg1JGCJsdL_myyjr-14kO2iA4TB05DC4RKtlqLIXypmI/s320/DSCN2489.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puente de la Mujer</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLycGUT7gsXmvic_rmo1kNPSanoMyy5clPrp855UH6u8E-kxIjr23bD58_4v5NIDzBul4RcXs2macDGjnxZzgSnDumUDvQJii1gLbEo_2KEKhUNysyVDDiNgv1kFks0Os7wWp-XwL_E8Gx/s1600/DSCN2496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLycGUT7gsXmvic_rmo1kNPSanoMyy5clPrp855UH6u8E-kxIjr23bD58_4v5NIDzBul4RcXs2macDGjnxZzgSnDumUDvQJii1gLbEo_2KEKhUNysyVDDiNgv1kFks0Os7wWp-XwL_E8Gx/s320/DSCN2496.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View out the porthole of the ship-museum in Puerto Madero</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2H7qRzB5ugbCLvxrx0cAeKPebhvVGv5NSeqTc9QeL_S_gCzKJw_3luantzM7om2gN9TuDuPABDGk9c2rxdBcreCYkvGVyJPNRfRHNIN-PpVxaW4ADyS-mbnIWX3dATjTNPJZmCv6AQnWF/s1600/DSCN2551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2H7qRzB5ugbCLvxrx0cAeKPebhvVGv5NSeqTc9QeL_S_gCzKJw_3luantzM7om2gN9TuDuPABDGk9c2rxdBcreCYkvGVyJPNRfRHNIN-PpVxaW4ADyS-mbnIWX3dATjTNPJZmCv6AQnWF/s320/DSCN2551.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flamenco show in San Telmo</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
It was sort of a parent-child role reversal the entire week: since neither of them speaks the language or knows the city, I was leading them around, teaching them vocabulary and Argentine history, and telling them where we were going and what we were doing. By the end of the week, I was happily exhausted. They were exhausting only because we had to cram in a run-through of the entire city in only a few days. It's the kind of place you know you might never come back to, so we didn't want to waste time. We did, however, take a break every afternoon to relax and share some Malbec-- after the majority of our activities but before dinner. They had a little trouble adjusting to the Argentine dinner hour: no earlier than 9:00 and often as late as 11:00. When we ate at a steakhouse in Puerto Madero, we left the restaurant at 1:00 a.m. and there were still plenty of people there eating. <br />
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On Friday, we left the city-- people in my family are generally more inclined toward the suburban or rural lifestyle (although my mom insists she wants to move to a city when they retire)-- to spend a relaxing day in the countryside of San Antonio de Areco. We participated in the "Dia del Campo" at an estancia called La Portena. It was beautiful, and the perfect escape from the city's insanity (which, as I have admitted before and will never deny, I am in love with). We learned about gaucho customs, ate asado, rode horses, and, most importantly, got to play with the dogs that lived there. God, I miss my dogs.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqFb6I0KCZLFPL8tNd8oFps7rklnA4vGuBpgOV_ovhb4aVzlKC0feOx15PXnD-fBNcU0WhnOolzl8oDQtpJCJfZELjQq4d8f_FlPaifEVt6b_Lwiw7GtESQjrKb2jVc5GuXtB42FpqtA-/s1600/DSCN2511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqFb6I0KCZLFPL8tNd8oFps7rklnA4vGuBpgOV_ovhb4aVzlKC0feOx15PXnD-fBNcU0WhnOolzl8oDQtpJCJfZELjQq4d8f_FlPaifEVt6b_Lwiw7GtESQjrKb2jVc5GuXtB42FpqtA-/s320/DSCN2511.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCPtdIafLVAQuEPaU6EZLpnoIiOHTg3PglMLaZsp6aW4X3rMTIrRC-bWebCwhPLh8jzc_hfrUY3m_xMvodREuQnDqxq_MPWFr2WcxQlLTWWaMzq5nO1pTz1Fpu02Qn8LBSmshA55FDhzMU/s1600/DSCN2506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCPtdIafLVAQuEPaU6EZLpnoIiOHTg3PglMLaZsp6aW4X3rMTIrRC-bWebCwhPLh8jzc_hfrUY3m_xMvodREuQnDqxq_MPWFr2WcxQlLTWWaMzq5nO1pTz1Fpu02Qn8LBSmshA55FDhzMU/s320/DSCN2506.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gaucho music</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6vJYpjQZMZkDVpERjZhqeAsch4OD8jyQJ9XJnub1RXUR680fROJx4BkDo9F11P-oSBQzc4acBaM3Sa6S-jSuFEv50IHwJ4VQwuo8UzyDUKNJlnFFmzL9v9ftDHz0s199QdRpMMPFY5AY/s1600/DSCN2517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6vJYpjQZMZkDVpERjZhqeAsch4OD8jyQJ9XJnub1RXUR680fROJx4BkDo9F11P-oSBQzc4acBaM3Sa6S-jSuFEv50IHwJ4VQwuo8UzyDUKNJlnFFmzL9v9ftDHz0s199QdRpMMPFY5AY/s320/DSCN2517.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gaucho skills</td></tr>
</tbody></table> The above picture is from the gaucho skills exhibition. The gaucho rides full-speed toward the...um, goal post thing, where there's a small silver ring that he has to hook onto a wooden pencil sort of tool. If he can hook the ring and hang onto it, he wins. He then presents the ring to a woman. Traditionally, if the woman accepted the ring with a kiss, the two became a couple. These days, though, many female visitors to the estancia receive rings and leave without a new boyfriend.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTtyN-q5HMAH3OateMPEIXanmCwwsnbetj9KuO3y1rQHOilrUKoyZEVzeAavL2J5kdhj71EOA3SGiB8ULvol1_Mt6Ta3AaVyIEupR2VPhcvITZyW4Hf_-rqd1JflnW3C4rrdYb4Akw9__/s1600/DSCN2526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTtyN-q5HMAH3OateMPEIXanmCwwsnbetj9KuO3y1rQHOilrUKoyZEVzeAavL2J5kdhj71EOA3SGiB8ULvol1_Mt6Ta3AaVyIEupR2VPhcvITZyW4Hf_-rqd1JflnW3C4rrdYb4Akw9__/s320/DSCN2526.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom conquers her horse fears</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5f_RVvTTyGXcAHTQcPg2sXgN9m4pwktsTiEfbwvzxRET8rUVs2ePW1z_Ryjl1qqACo8vfMUYs0Mh2RT_XGjkOb4_IwhMGHzJWb6h4CmkZOHifLXfsmwHv9Vcuoud3CNSJqZpzxFHZfxVc/s1600/DSCN2530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5f_RVvTTyGXcAHTQcPg2sXgN9m4pwktsTiEfbwvzxRET8rUVs2ePW1z_Ryjl1qqACo8vfMUYs0Mh2RT_XGjkOb4_IwhMGHzJWb6h4CmkZOHifLXfsmwHv9Vcuoud3CNSJqZpzxFHZfxVc/s320/DSCN2530.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lovely carriage ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRpU78K0ofnLOEHg6PqEh8UNlUQH-oyF7A0N30nSuvPJd5LbtJTORyda8VuSrDbM0Q8umilB28RV8kWX4tCax6ou5bbSdhBF4tc9NOfvssnmnnyIODI4L6iX570_MIhVLXaOs1Z08AbtH/s1600/DSCN2532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRpU78K0ofnLOEHg6PqEh8UNlUQH-oyF7A0N30nSuvPJd5LbtJTORyda8VuSrDbM0Q8umilB28RV8kWX4tCax6ou5bbSdhBF4tc9NOfvssnmnnyIODI4L6iX570_MIhVLXaOs1Z08AbtH/s320/DSCN2532.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those lambs were only a day old!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirJ5dP_TIvI3izyKnuevn_GwfB07hqb-ZOCQMTuS7yZiW3rtgz9AIhAfizDsj-uolxmpbZEBOWk9d4z4LHXalgJ9egkjG59vkRxMZW4QaHJ8sOGAfW4pRvg-yVya6GTOGG0m6ydrsHWnU/s1600/DSCN2547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirJ5dP_TIvI3izyKnuevn_GwfB07hqb-ZOCQMTuS7yZiW3rtgz9AIhAfizDsj-uolxmpbZEBOWk9d4z4LHXalgJ9egkjG59vkRxMZW4QaHJ8sOGAfW4pRvg-yVya6GTOGG0m6ydrsHWnU/s320/DSCN2547.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I saw this guy on the radio!</td></tr>
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</div>It was a really great week. I was sad to see them go (tears again, of course) but I'll be home in less than two months! I can hardly believe it. The two major things left on the agenda are Puerto Madryn and Mar del Plata. Also on my list are: show at the Teatro Colon, futbol game, Montevideo in Uruguay, possibly La Plata and/or Tigre, and, perhaps most importantly, one of these Thursdays I want to go down to San Telmo to see the Grandmothers and Mothers of the Disappeared.<br />
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As always, exciting times on the horizon. Stay tuned.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-14637791644574915102011-09-08T16:41:00.000-07:002011-09-08T16:44:32.402-07:00Cordoba!Wow. The weeks just fly by. It's been over two weeks since my trip to Cordoba, and FINALLY I'm writing about it.<br />
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It was Thursday, the 18th of August. Maria and I took a bus from Retiro at 10:40 p.m. It was supposed to take between nine and ten hours to get up to the city of Cordoba, so we were projected to arrive around 8:00 a.m. Before sunrise, we were woken up by the driver shouting, "Cordoba!" I haven't been so disoriented in a really long time (my roommates will recall EVERY TIME I fell asleep studying and woke up confused). My first question? Of course: "What time is it?" 6:30 a.m., friends. Maria and I looked at each other. We wondered if we had gotten off at the wrong stop. Was this really Cordoba? Could we have arrived an hour and a half early? How was that even possible, when no bus ever left on time EVER? But it was Cordoba. We walked to the tourist information center in the bus terminal, which was, of course, closed. We stared at the map for a while before we just asked a security guard how to get to our hostel.<br />
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We arrived at the doorstep of the hostel and rang the bell. I recall being overly delighted at the sound of it. It was like a ringtone...and I was deliriously tired. After a few minutes, a guy came to the door, barefoot and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Si?" was all he said to us. We told him we had reservations and he let us in. We checked in and he informed us that since there was another girl in the room we would be staying in, he couldn't let us in and risk disturbing her (although he proceeded to do that the next night when we were sleeping there. Totally cool). He led us into the common room. On the couch was a pillow and blanket, and his shoes were on the floor nearby. He pointed to two strange but comfortable-looking chairs, and we sat down, eventually falling asleep, not to wake up again until about 10:00 a.m.<br />
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At that time we were able to get into our room. We put down our bags, changed our clothes and freshened up, then promptly headed out to explore the city. That first day we spent a lot of time on the pedestrian shopping streets, but we also saw several churches (this city is absolutely full of them) and this really cool underground museum that was an old Jesuit crypt.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZAeg_-t6uRpYi2ZgLpXVnR1ZgxDcF6yxdckSRSn3M0xEAuHrt8LB-5rmQKZwKee9FywQZ_QaIkIRf_gXp8BUaJSU_zD4asiGnilKr5PQjYI3JusD3AqSNZcos5Q9j1OF0-CW3S9YYLyDd/s1600/DSCN2425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZAeg_-t6uRpYi2ZgLpXVnR1ZgxDcF6yxdckSRSn3M0xEAuHrt8LB-5rmQKZwKee9FywQZ_QaIkIRf_gXp8BUaJSU_zD4asiGnilKr5PQjYI3JusD3AqSNZcos5Q9j1OF0-CW3S9YYLyDd/s320/DSCN2425.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYu6CAkbToxaC_wCtDj73w72nNIiNFXrP6OKecU-hdm5VgKxZVgxY68I__agoJp-RrgxZMTwf7R1g8xnBBrXaVrrsJu8J6oxb_9y6B2U3p9FBMGglRRg81Lk9UweOeF-jFepB6rJZ5XR2/s1600/DSCN2430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYu6CAkbToxaC_wCtDj73w72nNIiNFXrP6OKecU-hdm5VgKxZVgxY68I__agoJp-RrgxZMTwf7R1g8xnBBrXaVrrsJu8J6oxb_9y6B2U3p9FBMGglRRg81Lk9UweOeF-jFepB6rJZ5XR2/s320/DSCN2430.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEAbwkc8r8stwUVQUke6db0_yPy_bFYc1q_WKsxDG8e0y-B_GEANPuUlNkoReMEdllNYt4dsqJq5J8dbFkjAs5cUhdr68ol38utpC5pHcSEiqAlETQHkz5e8j4NMVBSEzoRo7bVsiR3nk/s1600/DSCN2421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEAbwkc8r8stwUVQUke6db0_yPy_bFYc1q_WKsxDG8e0y-B_GEANPuUlNkoReMEdllNYt4dsqJq5J8dbFkjAs5cUhdr68ol38utpC5pHcSEiqAlETQHkz5e8j4NMVBSEzoRo7bVsiR3nk/s320/DSCN2421.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
So that was all the Jesuit crypt. Get ready for a series of churches....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mIN0-Hp3PLbvdFdvO909c-CMaF_igBUU97NOU2tY1g1bahBRGOrVHh_LxEtsDJLLBhGI-WQgT_pDt3nvmbE9RuMAeQXY5Q4lEcXSVMA3AjbgrUkHpe999gf2W5QPFAv6i8GlC0KjyTxl/s1600/DSCN2415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mIN0-Hp3PLbvdFdvO909c-CMaF_igBUU97NOU2tY1g1bahBRGOrVHh_LxEtsDJLLBhGI-WQgT_pDt3nvmbE9RuMAeQXY5Q4lEcXSVMA3AjbgrUkHpe999gf2W5QPFAv6i8GlC0KjyTxl/s320/DSCN2415.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabildo Historico</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNF6HLyV9F-cDevaOyxm9-q7O8fjyM5sKrVrKXEwjC28fUTmg5JmCgQaA0SEX_EncX4n0-vrfuGAYlXA6vHJmTs4aqSOmhkI3jKK2YnSpIZC1XAYuJYwsuuO-_t0SA11Yfk6e8T5Do9_3G/s1600/DSCN2443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNF6HLyV9F-cDevaOyxm9-q7O8fjyM5sKrVrKXEwjC28fUTmg5JmCgQaA0SEX_EncX4n0-vrfuGAYlXA6vHJmTs4aqSOmhkI3jKK2YnSpIZC1XAYuJYwsuuO-_t0SA11Yfk6e8T5Do9_3G/s320/DSCN2443.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabildo Historico....at night!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxoucwqyMQsFuqBLWa9wUspRqvZwfnghuNS3M50oZmawQpNbpYbXmiyMZkXBi2wnNxZmdqs1gzi411N1kGFBYFGcHB8Lp8Ga2JFm4gw1vIcpN86N9h-XUwy9Kjk3NvyisFo0n1GqE6NSR/s1600/DSCN2434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxoucwqyMQsFuqBLWa9wUspRqvZwfnghuNS3M50oZmawQpNbpYbXmiyMZkXBi2wnNxZmdqs1gzi411N1kGFBYFGcHB8Lp8Ga2JFm4gw1vIcpN86N9h-XUwy9Kjk3NvyisFo0n1GqE6NSR/s320/DSCN2434.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty sure this was the Jesuit church...on the Jesuit block</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivqTy084SIqRrOUswAVJ2T9-VlGCdg2okQruu9xouq-064qElJXWJUMZKY4TvmSBECBG_l5d16yXt57CLgw05CbVOu-eTW_-X3kyPZCOmiq186YYG2h7EPWOSZxNockqvL7aR0fuJ-JGGq/s1600/DSCN2447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivqTy084SIqRrOUswAVJ2T9-VlGCdg2okQruu9xouq-064qElJXWJUMZKY4TvmSBECBG_l5d16yXt57CLgw05CbVOu-eTW_-X3kyPZCOmiq186YYG2h7EPWOSZxNockqvL7aR0fuJ-JGGq/s320/DSCN2447.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This foreboding Gothic church that Maria was obsessed with</td></tr>
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And that's not even all of the churches this city had. They love their church, man. That day we also saw a photo exhibition by an Italian photographer as well as a museum dedicated to the memory of the Desaparecidos from the era of Argentina's last military dictatorship. The museum was in a building that was used as a sort of concentration camp for those "subversive" ones who opposed the government. It was haunting, to say the least. I don't have pictures of it. I think what's most chilling about the Desaparecidos (disappeared ones) is how recently it took place. We can't look at it and say, "Oh, that was fifty/sixty/a hundred years ago; we've progressed since then." It was the late 70s, early 80s. As a species, we haven't really progressed that much. When it comes to money, power, and control, humanity gets put on the back burner. What desperation those leaders must've felt that they found it necessary to torture and kill everyone that opposed them. Walking through the place, you could read commentaries from survivors. You'd be walking up these stairs and along the wall would be a placard talking about how the prisoners had been dragged up the steps or thrown down them or whatever the case. I was sort of afraid to touch anything. I couldn't really fathom the terrible things that had happened in the same place where I was standing. Overall, the museum was really well done.<br />
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After all the museums, churches, and shopping (I finally found the perfect little gift for my nephew here!), Maria and I went to dinner and headed back to the hostel. This hostel (Turning Point Hostel) was really cool, and all the people were friendly and nice, but the place was partially outdoors and it was absolutely frigid that weekend. Our room was unbearable. Luckily, by our second night we had acquired not only extra blankets but a space heater. The next morning Katia arrived. She had classes on Friday and had been unable to come with Maria and me, so she took a bus Friday night. She arrived at an ungodly hour of the morning, just as we had, so when we went out to breakfast, we found her sleeping in the living room. We ate, Katia moved into the room, and we all got ready and headed out. That day we were meeting up with Katia's friend Gabriela, a friend from Nicaragua who's studying at the university in Cordoba. We got lunch, visited the Paseo del Buen Pastor and the Gothic church, then went to the Bicentennial Park for a while before checking out the art museum. <br />
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That night they were having an asado at the hostel! We bundled up and sat out on what was essentially a screened-in porch while Nill, one of the hostel employees, served up round after round of excellent Argentinean meat and we enjoyed bread, wine, and the company of people from France, Haiti, Argentina, and the U.S.-- and Nicaragua, of course! Every time I eat at an asado, people leave the table uncomfortably full, unable to fathom eating for at least several hours. But I generally leave the table still a little bit peckish. So a little while later, we decided to head out for dessert. Cordoba, as it turns out, is not like Buenos Aires. Places aren't open late, not even on Saturday nights. We ended up at the one restaurant that had what we were looking for: the same restaurant Maria and I had eaten at the night before.<br />
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The next day we took it easy. Most of the shopping places were closed and we'd already seen all the churches, so we pretty much did this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvl-VZxisL89iwZ-Rjq4_FTPGgUoV-Z4_pQjLe8IBQ3PoqWVMkzzFUL6S3mUlDU2K9tS7JpU1NGVGLLAFk-hN-L6O-p9dQW5wr9rKQsrFZQ96sMe-QF5aC1fFVRE5ogxXrPwfDlj5X-yP/s1600/DSCN2460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvl-VZxisL89iwZ-Rjq4_FTPGgUoV-Z4_pQjLe8IBQ3PoqWVMkzzFUL6S3mUlDU2K9tS7JpU1NGVGLLAFk-hN-L6O-p9dQW5wr9rKQsrFZQ96sMe-QF5aC1fFVRE5ogxXrPwfDlj5X-yP/s320/DSCN2460.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maria in Parque Sarmiento</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Y6T45v_WaQlTpCEkuBITJAVxK0mgY_XAoVTQ1oOVGeiLhKnApKgFHkVJU0LrG354MG3A6xsx-CpU_X6kTaL5-CWKPcscAG72TYpwL3FBj_wCbkZRtAdqsrHqcMGAaPJqRZIWBU0XBBGF/s1600/DSCN2462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Y6T45v_WaQlTpCEkuBITJAVxK0mgY_XAoVTQ1oOVGeiLhKnApKgFHkVJU0LrG354MG3A6xsx-CpU_X6kTaL5-CWKPcscAG72TYpwL3FBj_wCbkZRtAdqsrHqcMGAaPJqRZIWBU0XBBGF/s320/DSCN2462.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the best wines I've ever tasted...you just can't go wrong with a Malbec</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOjbm6tYfW7mH_OggLEIi8T3bC7yci8tBWPmEcdJfNgvEB0laPTSyLObPn98zSujF-hhd5cZnMMcbFMTKO-mM0nCgsx9bbvI5pievU5QxYwCfkz31jIAIlpYcA7JlgOIhJrrNNWlWXSOk/s1600/DSCN2464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOjbm6tYfW7mH_OggLEIi8T3bC7yci8tBWPmEcdJfNgvEB0laPTSyLObPn98zSujF-hhd5cZnMMcbFMTKO-mM0nCgsx9bbvI5pievU5QxYwCfkz31jIAIlpYcA7JlgOIhJrrNNWlWXSOk/s320/DSCN2464.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first really good milanesa</td></tr>
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We headed home Sunday night. Maria and Katia had both fallen in love with Cordoba's tranquility, but I still love the chaos and absurdity of Buenos Aires. I think I love it more because it is so big and messy and loud. Cordoba was lovely, very lovely, but I felt no attachment to it. As far as cities go, Buenos Aires is my one true love.<br />
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<span id="goog_1099124801"></span><span id="goog_1099124802"></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-39444028476232799752011-08-30T21:53:00.000-07:002011-08-30T21:53:42.693-07:00Una Semana de FamiliaMy parents arrived in Buenos Aires three days ago. I still haven't gotten to writing about Cordoba because any time I'm not in class, I'm out with them. Tomorrow, though, they're going to Colonia del Sacramento on their own, so I might have a few minutes to write a little something. <br />
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ALSO, I've been having problems with Flickr so my pictures are not up to date. I'm thinking about photobucket or something like that, so stay tuned. Otherwise you can see most of them on Facebook. <br />
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Hasta luego!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-71721988635228558872011-08-26T11:53:00.000-07:002011-08-26T11:53:08.959-07:00Lessons LearnedI don't remember which number I left off on, and I don't feel like fighting with the Internet to go back and check, so let's call it...<br />
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<b>#5. Mate: delicious, energizing, comforting, but does not help you focus.</b> Exhibit A: me, drinking mate; the pile of homework next to me that I've been "working on" since I woke up four hours ago.<br />
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<b>#6. Everyone in Buenos Aires has a dog. EVERYONE. </b>I've observed this since I got here: dog-walkers with packs of leashed dogs of varying breeds, dog crap all over the sidewalks (yeah, everywhere). But today I saw a few <i>paseaperros </i>with easily 18 dogs in tow. Some big, some small, but all walking in perfect formation. And whenever the walker/owner stops in a store or a cafe, they tie the dogs outside, where they all wait calmly, staring at their person until they return. I've even seen dogs not tied up, sitting outside the pharmacy just waiting for their person. They're really well-trained in that respect. It makes me miss my stupid, crazy dogs.<br />
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<b>#7. Punctuality is nonexistent. </b>Professors roll into class twenty minutes late and don't seem to mind if you do the same; meetings don't really have a start time; 10:00 means 10:15...convenient when the colectivo is running late, but annoying when you arrive on time and have to wait.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-34608255333307458562011-08-22T18:26:00.000-07:002011-08-22T18:26:04.190-07:00Ya No Soy Turista!Last week was busy. Actually it was just Wednesday that was really packed, which was compounded by the fact that I went out on Tuesday night (knowing full well how many things I had to accomplish in the next two days!). So I got home Wednesday morning at 3:30 (bad decisions, bad decisions, bad decisions), slept for a few hours before getting up and going to Immigration: not nearly as scary as they made it sound; we only had to hand in paperwork and wait for them to process it. And it cost half as much as expected! Also on the list of things to do: buy tickets for Cordoba, register for classes, hit a few fotocopiadoras to get some readings, read said readings, go to a bookstore to buy books for a lit class, and buy tickets for Eric Clapton, who's coming in October (the one thing on the list that I am still unable to check off). Oh, and I almost forgot. Our room-swapping plan was rejected, since USAL suddenly decided all of the U.S. exchange girls had to be rooming with a native Spanish speaker instead of each other. So I still get to move to Katia's room, on the condition that we speak in Spanish rather than English, but Callie and Katherine have to move to another floor. I don't understand why USAL didn't issue this decree before we all settled into our rooms? Maybe before we arrived? I'm excited to finally have a roommate, but I'm not excited to be moving into the third room I've had since arriving here. I'll be happy tomorrow night, when I'm all settled in for good (I hope...)<br />
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So last Wednesday and Thursday marked the end of our trial period with classes, and we had to finally register. I actually had no trouble: I knew exactly which courses I wanted to take, and I'm pretty excited about almost all of them. My history class is a bit dry, but that's to be expected, I suppose. I'm taking two political science classes: History of the Political Processes and Ideas of Argentina, and of Latin America. I'm also taking an Argentine lit class, and a Spanish course that is a seminar of the History and Culture of Tango. The first day I tried it out, it completely intimidated me (not hard to do), but after last week, I love it! It's fascinating material: cultural history, not the economic data and dates and presidencies of my other history class. And it's a very small group: I think we're going to end up with only three people registered, so it's intimate and surprisingly easy for me to participate, something that's usually absurdly stressful for me. I'm excited for the semester.<br />
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Thursday night Maria and I left for our second trip: Cordoba! It was an incredible weekend, which I'll be glad to recount tomorrow. Like last time, here's a quick overview:<br />
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<ul><li>Days away from Bs As: 3</li>
<li>Nights in hostel: 2</li>
<li>Nights on overnight bus: 2</li>
<li>Different hostels stayed in: 1</li>
<li>Mind-blowing meals: 3</li>
<li>Number of doors that stuck, making me think I would be stuck in a bathroom forever: a shockingly high 3</li>
<li>Churches visited/viewed: +/- 5</li>
</ul>I think that'll do for now. Pictures and details to come. Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-88170348310556157592011-08-14T20:34:00.000-07:002011-08-14T20:36:34.814-07:00Up AheadI suddenly have a bunch of things to look forward to.<br />
<ol><li>The most obvious: my parents' arrival in less than two weeks!</li>
<li>A trip to Cordoba this weekend with Maria and possibly Katia</li>
<li>An Eric Clapton concert in October-- for about US $50</li>
<li>Possibly seeing The Strokes in November, just days before I head home.</li>
<li>Heading home is in itself something to look forward to, though I won't be counting the days or anything.</li>
<li>A visit to Loyola in November!</li>
</ol>Another possible reason for my current excitement level? I drank a lot of mate today. <br />
...I'm never going to fall asleep. Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-42035189720092804202011-08-14T10:49:00.000-07:002011-08-14T10:49:09.094-07:00Comienzo del CuatrimestreFor the first two weeks of the semester, exchange students were allowed to try out classes to see which ones they wanted to take. Tomorrow begins the third week of classes; we have to register by Wednesday, and I'm still not 100% certain. The goal is to achieve a balance of extranjero and regular classes (extranjero classes are designed for exchange students) as well as a schedule that leaves Fridays and/or Mondays free for traveling. I was surprised to find that two of the classes that interest me most are political science classes. Aside from that, I'm looking at two lit classes, a history class and a Spanish class about the history/literature/culture of tango. It's been interesting finding all the different buildings-- most USAL students take all of their classes in one facultad, or department, but since we can pick and choose we have to go to various facultades-- and meeting new people and seeing what kind of things we're going to be doing in classes this semester. And with every class, you have to go to different kioscos and fotocopiadoras to get photocopies of the reading material: a bit of a hassle finding them all, but so much cheaper than textbooks that it doesn't matter. <br />
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On Thursday the exchange office organized a get-together for exchange kids and anfitriones (host students) at a bar a few blocks from our residence. I arrived late, as I was coming from a class that ends at 10:00 (absurd). When I got there, though, Callie confirmed my suspicions by telling me that yes, Maria was here and she was with her anfitrión (Germán) as well as a friend from home. Claudio, who Maria and I both know from Loyola, had come to visit Germán and was there at the bar. There's something so exciting and comforting about seeing someone from home. We ended up going out with them and a few more of Germán's friends and had a really great night. In the time since I last wrote an entry, I've also hit a couple of well-known clubs in BA: Club 69, which, on Thursday nights, has an absolutely wild drag show, and Asia de Cuba, which I've been to once before, a place that always makes you feel like a super VIP (especially when you're on "the list" thanks to the girls from the Resi!).<br />
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Friday we met up with Claudio again and visited MALBA, the Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires (pretty sure that's the acronym), which was really nice and something I'd been meaning and wanting to do. Saturday Katia and I went for a walk and hit all the major sights of Recoleta: the flower sculpture, the cemetery, the fair-- things we've checked out before but are always worth a second trip. And today will consist of a great deal of reading and some planning for a possible trip this weekend. Maria and I were looking at Mendoza, but it's looking more expensive and less necessary than we'd thought. Not sure where we'll end up, but you can bet I'll be writing about it. And by the time the next weekend rolls around, our parents will be arriving for their week-long stay. Time is FLYING. Less than three months till I'm back in the U.S.-- absolutely unbelievable.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-47712740598470435092011-08-02T18:13:00.000-07:002011-08-02T18:13:57.019-07:00Destination 4: RosarioLet me see how many descriptive phrases I can stick together to describe Rosario. It's like this cool, laidback, indie, semi-hipster, stellar little city about four hours northwest of Buenos Aires. Maria and I arrived there Tuesday morning. For the first hour or so, we walked up and down streets looking for our hostel, but realized that we had a bad map and the bus hadn't dropped us off where we thought it had. So we grabbed a cab.<br />
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The hostel we stayed in was called Che Pampa's. Rosario is the birthplace of revolutionary icon Che Guevara; his face and name are everywhere. The place was really cool. It was an old rowhouse, refurbished and redecorated. It was all bright colors and cool music (I was geeking out when I heard The Strokes and The Black Keys within ten minutes of each other) and a great view off our little balcony. We just needed to drop our bags, shower, and change our clothes before we headed out on the town. We didn't have solid plans for Rosario: we had read about a few museums and the monument to the national flag, so we figured we'd check them all out. What we didn't read about was all the shopping. We left the hostel, bound for the flag monument, but within two blocks we were distracted by a peatonal (pedestrian street, like Calle Florida in Buenos Aires) lined with stores. We saw dozens of shoe stores with the same beautiful boots we'd seen in Bs As, only here they were actually affordable! Suddenly our mission in Rosario was for each of us to find a pair of boots. For me, it was the first pair I tried on:<br />
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Maria had a harder time. Three or four pairs, two or three stores, but she finally got hers, too. After we finished, we walked down to admire the flag monument for a while.<br />
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Then we went down by the water, got hot dogs, and snacked for a while, enjoying the sunlight and the people-watching. That's what I'm going to remember most about Rosario, I think: the peacefulness. It was decidedly urban, especially in comparison with the other places we'd been in previous days, but it was not Buenos Aires. It didn't have that hurried feeling of chaos. It was so nice. Any time not spent shopping here was spent sitting in a relaxed, sort of pensive silence. As it got near sunset, we went back to the hostel for a bit. We met some people-- a girl from Holland and a girl from Argentina-- and watched a movie before heading back out for dinner. We went, of course, to another excellent pizza place. Afterward we went to the movies.<br />
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Wednesday morning, our bus was at 11:00. We checked out of the hostel around 10:00 and grabbed a cab. We had full-reclining seats and meal service again, despite the short duration of the trip. When we got in at Retiro, we started walking up Avenida del Libertador, looking for a stop for the colectivo 61. We never did find it, and actually ended up walking all the way back to the Resi. It wasn't terribly far, but I think next time we'll make sure to look up how to get home before we leave the city.<br />
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So, there you have it! My first major traveling excursion in Argentina. FIN.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-45010714072152659212011-07-31T21:12:00.000-07:002011-07-31T21:12:18.054-07:00Destinations 2 & 3: Wanda and San IgnacioI am currently trying to put together a schedule of classes to attend for this two-week "tryout" period. It is way more complicated than it should be. So many of the courses that are recommended for extranjeros are at the same time! Not cool, guys. Not cool.<br />
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So to pick up where I left off in my traveling tales, Sunday morning, Maria and I got on a bus to Wanda, about an hour away from Iguazu. We got dropped off on the side of the road, at the end of this dirt driveway where there was a little ticket booth and some guys milling around. When we got off the bus, they approached to offer us remise (hired car) service to the mines, which were what we had come to see. We asked if it was possible to walk, because we didn't want to spend the money. They said sure, it was possible, but a group of people had just been robbed walking that road. We decided fifty pesos was not at all a bad price. Don't be too impressed by the idea of a car service. It was just this guy's personal car, a dumpy little sedan, and he drove us a few miles to the mines. He was very friendly, though, and before he left we arranged a time for him to come back for us.<br />
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We took a brief tour, ooh'ed and ahh'ed at the beautiful stones-- quartz and amethyst, mostly-- and actually got to walk through the tunnels. The guide told us about how each stone formed and how the miners extracted the stones with dynamite. It was pretty interesting, and the stones were absolutely beautiful.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish I knew how to rotate photos...</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgIpjg5i8JbCiIs-_BoqWFy3jAlVVlfj5Z3QYS9Vp7BCqvYB_h_eHspSmnSi7wWKEZFTIf2BrMz2A-KYPyMjLWaVxbGEBMCoaeDUFpuUhSFXdtYotLSn6KCLeSHcWRVWEjxE7nCncDI-wl/s1600/DSCN2316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgIpjg5i8JbCiIs-_BoqWFy3jAlVVlfj5Z3QYS9Vp7BCqvYB_h_eHspSmnSi7wWKEZFTIf2BrMz2A-KYPyMjLWaVxbGEBMCoaeDUFpuUhSFXdtYotLSn6KCLeSHcWRVWEjxE7nCncDI-wl/s320/DSCN2316.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After touring the mine, we started to walk through the "Parque de los mitos guaranies," which, as cool as it sounds, was, to be blunt, kind of half-assed. It was a self-guided tour with recordings of myths at each stop. Pretty boring. Instead we spent the remainder of our time (before Alberto, our driver, came to pick us up) in the gift shop. We each bought a few things, mostly gifts for friends. At 12:15, Alberto arrived. He drove us back almost to where we were dropped off, but when we told him we were headed to San Ignacio, he stopped at a bus shelter on the side of the road. It was unmarked and standing completely alone on a long stretch of open road. Alberto told us that a bus would arrive within fifteen minutes. We could buy tickets when we boarded, and it would take us to San Ignacio. We waited there with what appeared to be a few locals, and a couple of backpackers. Finally the bus-- a very small one-- arrived. It was crowded and there was no A/C. This certainly was not the same bus experience that we had had between Buenos Aires and Puerto Iguazu. This was four hours of sweaty, smelly passengers boarding and getting off, seats that hardly reclined, and hot sun beating down through the windows, despite the closed curtains. But somehow it was exciting. We were in Wanda and just hopped on a random bus to get to our next destination. And four hours wasn't so terribly long.<br />
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Finally, at around 5:00 p.m., we arrived in San Ignacio. The backpackers who had gotten on the bus with us in Wanda also got off in San Ignacio. We walked across to the tourism office, which we could see from where we were dropped off (not at the bus station, but again sort of on the side of the road). The guy in the tourism office could not have been more helpful or nice (or adorable...but, you know, that's irrelevant). He told us about all the available activities in San Ignacio. Everything fell perfectly into place here. We would go to the light show at the Jesuit ruins that very night, then back the next morning to tour the ruins during the day. After that, we would take a "tranquilo" (peaceful) bike ride to the provincial park Teyu Cuare, where we could see beautiful vistas of the rio Parana and Paraguay on the opposite shore. This guy even told us we could leave our bags at the tourism office with him, since we would be checking out of the hostel early in the morning. With all this in place, we made our way to the hostel.<br />
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Adventure Hostel San Ignacio was not as impressive as Hostel-Inn Iguazu, but we really only needed a place to shower and sleep, so it did just fine. And we met some interesting people during our stay. There was an older gentleman who wanted to impart his great wisdom about the Spanish language, and told us we would master it quickly. As entertaining as he was, his condescension got to me pretty quickly. We also spent some time chatting with two younger guys, one of whom was on vacation and actually works in Buenos Aires, in a building really close to where we took our intensive review course. After chatting with them for a bit, we started walking to the ruins to see the light show. It was well done: it told the story of the mission settlement in San Ignacio, how the guaranies and the Jesuits came together to form a community and how that community was destroyed, fell into ruin, and was rediscovered. They projected the...movie, I guess you could call it, onto walls of water. It was really interesting and made the projections look like ghosts, which was kind of appropriate. After the show, we went to a little restaurant that the tourism guy recommended. It was delicious, of course. We went back to the hostel and did some research on Rosario before going to bed, as it was to be our next destination.<br />
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The next morning we got up, ate breakfast, checked out of the hostel, and headed to the tourism office. We dropped our bags, got our bikes, and also got confirmation of the seats that the guy had booked for us on a bus to Rosario for that evening. We hopped on our bicis and headed to the ruins. It was still early, around 9:00 a.m., I think, so the sunlight was really beautiful, and there was dew on the grass, and it was such a tranquil place. We walked around for an hour or two admiring the ruins, which were absolutely fascinating. We also chatted for a bit with one of the security guards, who showed us to the wine cellar/pantry of the ruins, a little underground room that I'm not sure everybody is allowed to go in. It was really cool.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously annoyed that rotating photos is apparently not possible...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkuViHNy67NuL-4zEjNUz_z2LEEXd_dnR9Lfk4wWXC0DvrLyu_0jZ_1i7TAzdB0pDiLI0ZFZVCN7Kx1BxUNAPHfblid0qS_6IfPqD5_GEWtl8CM3ZDXt2sV3I0a2IOOHh3YQDLa7bG-4C/s1600/DSCN2358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkuViHNy67NuL-4zEjNUz_z2LEEXd_dnR9Lfk4wWXC0DvrLyu_0jZ_1i7TAzdB0pDiLI0ZFZVCN7Kx1BxUNAPHfblid0qS_6IfPqD5_GEWtl8CM3ZDXt2sV3I0a2IOOHh3YQDLa7bG-4C/s320/DSCN2358.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from inside the pantry/wine cellar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We left the ruins and rode through the town to Horacio Quiroga's house. We read "El hombre muerto" in a Spanish class last year and figured, why not check out the author's house? I am so glad we did. It was really interesting and I love walking around knowing that someone famous/important/cool once walked/lived in this place. I actually felt like I was walking through one of his stories, since the one we had read was about the land where he lived. Here's the view from his backyard, which in itself explains (to me, at least) why he kept moving back to la selva even when his family wanted to go back to the city:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously. This was his backyard.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>After Horacio Quiroga's house, we started on the trail to Teyu Cuare. It was 8km, which Maria told me is about 6 miles or something...? I am absolutely useless at estimating/visualizing distance, so I had no idea how far or how painful this ride was going to be. We rode along the road for awhile before we even got to the trail leading to the park. This trail was the typical red dirt of Misiones, and completely full of rocks and puddles. There were times on this eternal trail that I wished I had accepted the ride in the back of a truck offered to me by random strangers. I wanted to curl up into a puddle and lie there until some sort of animal carried me off into the wilderness. I was in full-on whiny six-year-old mode, throwing a little tantrum inside my head. Finally we got to the park rangers' station, where the ranger explained the trails to us. We hiked up a sixty-degree incline of giant rocks and I continued to whimper...until we reached the vista points. While we stood up there, looking out on THIS<br />
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I put the pain and hunger and irritation in the back of my mind. I tried not to think about how awful the return trip would be. We strolled down on the lower trail and ate snacks/lunch on the banks of the rio Parana, in the most beautiful sunlight. Seriously, this was incredible. We headed back up and ended up chatting with the park ranger for a long time about all sorts of things. He gave us oranges and we talked about learning other languages. It was really interesting. Then he helped me fix my bike chain before we re-mounted those damn bicis and started the agonizing trek back into town. As it turned out, the return trip was much easier and seemed much shorter. Before I knew it we were in the tourism office returning the bikes and heading to the restaurant next door. We ate, picked up our bags, said goodbye to our friend in the tourism office, and walked up the hill to the bus terminal, where we would board a bus that would, fifteen hours later, drop us in Rosario. Stay tuned. The final installment of this travel log is coming tomorrow.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-12428663829660826412011-07-30T10:11:00.000-07:002011-07-30T10:46:14.331-07:00Destination 1: IguazuLast Thursday afternoon, around 5:15 p.m., Maria and I picked up our bags, locked our doors behind us and left the residence, certain we wouldn't return for at least seven days. We caught a bus to Retiro Station, where we had to find the bus we would be on for eighteen hours en route to Puerto Iguazu. Retiro is a madhouse. It's a train station, a bus station, and a crazy sort of market. There are people and buses everywhere; there are booths selling everything from chipas to cell phone covers to mates. When we got there, we didn't even know which part was the bus station. First we walked into the train station. Then we continued down the lane of cheap trinkets and snacks until we finally saw a sign: "Terminal de Omnibus." Up a ramp, down a hall, around a corner, and we were met with a big departures and arrivals board. Unfortunately, we were an hour early, so our bus was not yet posted. We sat and waited. Pretty soon it was ten minutes to seven (our scheduled departure was 7:00 p.m.) and still we had no word on where our bus was. Frantically, we ran around until we found the customer service/ticket sales window of the company (Crucero del Norte) and showed our tickets to the woman, asking her if there was some problem, if our bus was going to come soon. It was 7:06. With a shockingly bored expression, she told us to wait downstairs where we had already been waiting. Our bus would be here in a few minutes.<br />
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We ended up departing at about 7:20. I'm not sure why I was surprised to learn that the lax attitude toward punctuality extended to the transportation industry, but I was. So we boarded our bus, found our seats, and settled in for a nice, long ride. These buses are not like Greyhound buses. And they're not like Bolt Bus, either. Each seat is a big armchair that reclines fully. You get a pillow and blanket. You get meals. They show movies. It's like a plane, but with more legroom and cheaper tickets. I legitimately enjoyed the eighteen hours we spent on that bus.<br />
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Friday afternoon, around 2:00 p.m., we arrived in Puerto Iguazu in the Misiones province of Argentina. After some disoriented wandering, we found the local bus we needed to take to our hostel. When we arrived at Hostel-Inn Iguazu, I was in awe. The place looked like a resort: a big, beautiful pool out front surrounded by lounge chairs, a cabana bar. We walked in and there were people milling about and music playing; it was a party. The whole place was just a party. We checked in and planned out excursions for the following day at the park, then went down to our room. That first night we met some girls from England who were finishing up a six-month tour of South America and not at all eager to be leaving. Maria and I agreed we couldn't fathom six months of solid traveling, without some sort of home base. We went into town for dinner, at a parrilla, where I enjoyed yet another amazing steak. We headed back to the hostel and went to bed early so we could get to the park and see the falls in the morning.<br />
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For a week now I've been trying to put my experience with the falls into words. I was awestruck, speechless, blown away. There are hundreds of individual falls in this park, and each one just shocks you. We walked the upper trail and the lower trail, then we went out in a boat on an "approach to the falls" excursion, where we got entirely soaked. It was incredible. After that, we found a sunny place to eat lunch and dry off. Except the coaties (somewhere between a raccoon and an anteater) stole my sandwich. Bastards. Seriously, these animals have no fear. It's probably because everyone thinks they're adorable and feeds them all the time. They were cute when I first saw them, but it didn't take long for me to change my mind. After lunch we took the train up to the other end of the park to see the unfathomable Garganta del Diablo. This is basically the main attraction in Iguazu. It's the biggest of the falls, the most powerful and terrifying. We stood on a platform right on the edge-- everywhere in this park, you can stand so close to the falls it's actually a little unnerving. For the next few nights I had dreams about falling or dropping things over the rails. <br />
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We marveled at Garganta del Diablo for as long as possible, which was difficult with everybody shoving toward the front and throwing elbows. Afterward we took another boat ride, this one a more peaceful excursion called the Paseo Ecológico. There was a small group of us on this boat, with a guide paddling us through the river. We saw crocodiles, flowers, birds-- it was so relaxing and a perfect way to finish the day. If you're ever in Iguazu I recommend exactly what we did: Upper Trail, Lower Trail, Approach to the Falls, Garganta del Diablo, Paseo Ecológico. In that order. It was excellent.<br />
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That night we were hungry early and went back into town to find a restaurant. There were several nice places, but we didn't really feel like spending too much, and we came across a place called Colors where the owner offered us 10% off if we paid in cash. The food looked good, and the deal sounded good, so we went in. It ended up being a very strange experience. I still can't quite put my finger on it, but I was just incredibly uncomfortable the whole time. The whole town felt like a tourist trap, like all of the businesses were working together to get you to spend money. And, I mean, yeah, that's what they want you to do, obviously. But it was creepy. I felt like prey. So when we couldn't find the bar for which we had received a free drink coupon, we weren't too upset. We headed back to the hostel, pretty early again, because we had to get up the next day to get our bus to Wanda.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-22016658744682549462011-07-27T19:30:00.000-07:002011-07-27T19:30:35.022-07:00NumbersToday I returned to Buenos Aires after our first big trip. I've got to let it all sink in for a bit before I can recount it here, but here are some bullet points...<br />
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<ul><li>Days away from Bs As: 6 </li>
<li>Nights in hostels: 4</li>
<li>Nights on buses: 2</li>
<li>Different hostels stayed in: 3</li>
<li>Hours spent on buses: 41?</li>
<li>Kilometers biked: +/- 8</li>
<li>Dollars spent: ...don't really want to think about that one...</li>
<li>Incredible meals eaten: 3</li>
<li>Interesting people met in hostels: upwards of 10</li>
<li>Park rangers befriended: 1</li>
<li>Lunches stolen by coaties: 1</li>
<li>Photos taken: 200+</li>
</ul>I'm going to elaborate on all of this. Just not tonight.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-44231529223645079562011-07-18T18:39:00.000-07:002011-07-18T18:39:37.628-07:00Colonia y San TelmoThis weekend was packed with activities and outings with the girls from my Spanish class. Thursday we went on our final class-organized outing, to the movies. Despite the sketchiness of the neighborhood where the theater was, we had a really good time. The movie was called "Un cuento chino" and one of the main themes was the language barrier, so we all sort of related. After the movie we went to a little restaurant near Katie's host family's house and, as usual, shared a pizza and a bottle of wine. As usual, it was incredibly delicious. I wish I knew the secret to this pizza. I want to bring it back to the States with me. (The secret, not the pizza. I don't think that would keep very well.) Friday night, Tania moved into her new apartment in San Telmo, so we all went over to celebrate. After going out for an excellent tapas platter, we headed back to Tania's to share some wine, chat, and enjoy her new place. It's really a cute apartment. Very tiny, though. We stayed late that night; I think it was around 2:00a.m. that we ambled hungrily around the streets, looking for a kiosco to get some snacks, and it couldn't have been earlier than 3:30 that we headed back to the Resi. Saturday night we had plans yet again.<br />
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See, Katie and Brittany, two of the girls from the class, are only here for that one class. They're leaving this week, after the class ends with our final tomorrow. So Katie planned a ton of activities for her final weekend in Argentina. Saturday our original plan was to head to Cafe Tortoni for dinner and a tango show. Cafe Tortoni is the famous cafe where great writers like Borges used to hang out, so, needless to say, I was psyched at the prospect. As it turns out, though, Cafe Tortoni has become somewhat of a tourist trap, with hiked-up prices and unimpressive service. Luckily, in a student travel guide, Tania found the name of a place right in San Telmo where we could see a tango show for free. Although that particular restaurant (El Balcón) didn't have a show that night, the place right next door (Todo Mundo) did, so we went there.<br />
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It's a tiny little bar on the corner next to Plaza Dorrego, with TVs off to the right, where everyone was watching Argentina vs. Uruguay, and off to the left there was a small stage. We got a table right in front of the stage so we would be able to see the shows. The waitress told us there was a tango show starting immediately and a flamenco show at 10:30. The tango show was nice and all, but it was clearly a warmup to the awesomeness that was the flamenco band. There was a singer, two guys on these box drum things, a bassist and two guitarists, as well as a flamenco dancer. They had such chemistry and energy; I loved it. To make the night even better, I ate one of the best sandwiches I've ever eaten in my life. It was a hot steak sandwich: very simple, just lomito con queso, but it's Argentinean steak, so it's absolutely unparalleled as far as flavor goes. And it was all warm and cheesy on this soft bread, with such good fries...mmm.<br />
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We didn't stay out quite as late that night, because we had to get up early to get the Buquebus ferry to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay the next morning. In spite of the fact that I woke up half an hour late (at 7:30, which should never be considered late...at all), we made it there by a little after 8:00 and proceeded to stand in line for nearly an hour to get our boarding passes and get through Immigration. The ferry was cool, though. It had a duty-free shop on the first level, next to the first-class room, then on the second level was the seating for everyone else (set up sort of like airplane seating) and a little cafeteria, and you could go up to the next level to stand out on the deck. We grabbed a table by the window and, after some breakfast, spent the three-hour trip alternating between homework and naps. <br />
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Finally we arrived at Colonia del Sacramento. We each got a map and started walking toward the Historical District. We strolled through the cobblestone streets, wandered through small shops, went up in the lighthouse, and ate outside, looking out on the water. My clothes from that day still smell like parrilla, the grill. In our travels we encountered some interesting characters. There was an 82-year-old man in one of the shops who told us not only about his own family's immigration to Uruguay from Italy, but about the strength of the country's culture. He spoke with this immense pride about his tiny, beloved country: "Somos chiquitos, pero la cultura..." He explained that the country is one of "viejos," or older people, as the youth tend to immigrate to every corner of the world. <br />
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We met some of the youth that remained in Uruguay when we went to the heladería to get some homemade ice cream. There were two young guys serving us who were endlessly amused by the fact that we didn't speak Spanish. I get the impression that they thought we understood even less than we did, and also that they were making fun of us. But one of them shared mate with Tania, which was nice, and the encounter solidified my belief that the people on this continent are on a completely different level as far as looks go. A higher level.<br />
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Maria and I leave in three days for Iguazu. We finally got our bus tickets and booked a few nights at a hostel, but after Saturday night we have no concrete plans. We're both a little nervous about that, but it's also pretty exciting. We plan to set aside Friday (once we arrive, at 1:30 p.m.), Saturday, and part of Sunday for the falls and the park, then head to San Ignacio Sunday night. There we'll see the Jesuit ruins, and I believe the mines of Wanda are right there, too. It'll probably be Tuesday before we leave for Rosario and re-acclimate ourselves to city life before heading back to Buenos Aires by the weekend. Our classes start the following Monday, so we plan to get back by Saturday night in order to have Sunday to relax, unwind, and prepare for the semester to begin. Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-29041493960863227522011-07-15T09:08:00.000-07:002011-07-15T09:08:35.462-07:00Lessons LearnedAlso food-related:<br />
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<b>#2. Jamón is omnipresent. </b>Seriously: nearly every dish I've eaten has involved ham in some way. Today's lunch: pizza with sliced tomato on top and ham hidden under the cheese, accompanied by an empanada whose contents included egg, cheese, and ham. I usually don't even like ham that much. But it's good here. <br />
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<b>#3. Somehow, all food is better here.</b> I've had pizza, ham and cheese bread, empanadas, meat, cookies, hot chocolate, tea-- somehow everything tastes better. Well, last night I had Oreos, and they just tasted sort of odd, as if there was a minute recipe difference. But other than that: pizza, McFlurrys, soup, beef-- it is all amazing. There have been few meals that I haven't loved, and they've usually had a startling amount of onions involved.<br />
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Maybe today after class I'll just do an entire post about my food experiences, because while I've touched on it in essentially every post (what can I say? I love to eat), I think I should synthesize it all so you can come to understand just how happy my taste buds are every single day. I'll think about it all day. Hasta luego!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-71787713528243875282011-07-14T21:25:00.000-07:002011-07-14T21:25:33.701-07:00Lessons Learned(Note: The numbers assigned to these lessons do not reflect the order in which they were learned, but the order in which they were recorded. Future posts will pick up with whatever number I've left off on.)<br />
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Entonces:<br />
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<b>#1. Dulce de leche is God's gift to the human tongue.</b> As much as I miss peanut butter, dulce de leche is a fabulous substitute. You eat it on crackers, on toast, in cookies, on apples, or just on a spoon. It's incredibly sweet without being overwhelming; it's light; it goes with everything. <br />
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That's the only one I've got on my mind now, as I've just eaten spoonfuls of dulce de leche. Buenas noches.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-31217694286258746662011-07-14T20:00:00.000-07:002011-07-14T20:00:19.761-07:00PerspectivaEvery day, several times within the day, my perspective of this life changes. In the morning, I may wake up exhausted, unable to even think about tackling the day. I'll think about how everything is just that much more difficult because of the language barrier. I'll think about the four agonizing hours I'll have to spend in class, poring over every detail of Spanish grammar. Then, by the time I'm on the colectivo, I see the city buzzing and thriving around me and I'll get excited; I'll realize I'm living here in this incredible city, in this incredible country, and God, aren't I lucky?! Class will both discourage and enliven me as I have moments of clarity and periods of utter confusion. And when I get home all I'll want to do is collapse on my bed. I'll get some much-needed alone time, all the while feeling an obligation to go out and converse with the girls on the floor but simply not having the energy to do so. I'll eat my dinner, finish my homework, and go to sleep thinking about what I would be doing if I were at home. That's what always brings me back to positivity. As much as I miss my family, home, and everything familiar, I have to remind myself that if I were there right now, I'd spend my days in some boring job or another, my nights on the couch watching TV. Don't get me wrong: I miss those things; I love those things. But look at what I'm doing here. I'm going to the theatre, the movies, museums; I'm exploring not only a major metropolis, but the capital of a country in a completely different hemisphere. It's exciting; it's challenging; it's big. And that's what makes it so exhausting. I was dropped into this world and I have to adjust my habits to survive here, to thrive here. I'm making progress; every day gets a bit easier, but I still can't help but realize how much easier it is at home. I realize how much I take for granted the fact that people I interact with will understand the language I'm speaking; that I live in my own home country, my patria, that I belong there. I never really thought about it until I left, but there's a certain level of comfort living in a place where you are a citizen, living in the country where you were born. I take travel for granted, food, TV shows, my couch. There are so many little things I miss while I'm here. But I know that this experience is a unique opportunity, that it's going to change me, permanently, probably for the better. And I know that when I go home in four months (which now seems like such a short time), all those little things I miss-- peanut butter, my couch, local commercials-- will be there. My regular life is going on without me there; my friends and family and all my little habits will all be there when I get back. It won't all be waiting for me, exactly, but my regular life will be ready to envelop me, and I'll be ready to wrap back up into it, maybe a slightly different person than when I left, but still essentially the same. I can't help but think big picture every day that I'm here. I can't help but realize the magnitude of everything I do during this five month period. Every day is significant; every day I'm going to see and hear and experience a hundred things that I won't be able to experience again come November. I'll just have the memory. So that's my goal while I'm here: I try to take every day as it comes, to enjoy every day. One day I might be homesick, but the next day I won't be able to imagine leaving Buenos Aires. Studying abroad is so strange: you create an entirely different life only to leave it behind. It sounds tragic. But, God, every day is just so damn exciting.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-43031215908504379952011-07-10T16:11:00.001-07:002011-07-10T16:17:42.694-07:00Weekend #3? Already?!Wow. The days are getting away from me. I can't believe it's Sunday and my last entry was Wednesday. It doesn't feel that long ago. It's weird how I can already feel time speeding up. The first few days here were unfathomably long, but now that I'm more comfortable and I'm off doing things, the days are much quicker. My four-month stay here, which used to seem daunting, now seems brief. I am falling in love with this city, and I can already tell how terribly I'm going to miss it when I go back to the U.S., as thrilling as it will be returning home. The main reason I've been thinking long-term is because yesterday Maria and I spent almost the entire day trying to get a handle on what big trips we were going to be able to make and when. Machu Picchu got knocked off the list very quickly-- I think I already knew it was pretty impossible. But it looks like we're going to hit Iguazu Falls and the Jesuit ruins in Misiones; los Esteros de Ibera in Corrientes; San Antonio de Areco; Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay; Bariloche, or depending on the volcanic ash situation, Puerto Madryn, both a bit south; and Mar del Plata. We might also make it to the city of La Plata as well as Mendoza (wine country). It's all very daunting and complicated right now, but we're zeroing in on concrete plans for our first trip (Corrientes and Misiones), which will happen within the month. <br />
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Today we finally made it to the fair at San Telmo. We left the Resi around 1:30 and met up with Maria's high-school Spanish teacher, who is in Buenos Aires for a week to take an intensive Spanish course, as well. He won it in a contest, or something. So we met up with him in San Telmo at Habibi-- does this translate? Comida arabe = Arabic food? I'm not sure exactly what type of food it was, but it wasn't Argentine. We had falafel and this thing that I think is called shawarma or something, as well as a plate of what were essentially shish kebabs. It was all delicious! I was a little iffy when we got off the colectivo (#59, something new for us) and had to walk a few blocks through this neighborhood that I guess is still part of San Telmo. I was a bit uncomfortable, even when we found the restaurant, but it was excellent and afterward we walked through the street fair, which led us to more populated, commercial streets. Maria and I already know we're going to return to San Telmo at least once because we saw some booths where we might like to buy souvenir gifts for family and friends. Today it was just fun to meander through the streets and browse. After we'd wandered for a bit, we stopped at a cafe where Maria and her professor got coffees and I got dulce de leche ice cream...and a Coke. I'm very concerned about eating healthy, you see. We had to ask the waiter which colectivo to take back to our Resi (it was the #29, and the stop was just outside), but we made it back without any trouble. Now I've got some homework to do.<br />
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But first, I need to recount Thursday's trip to the theater and Friday's excursions to the Dept. of Justice and boliche #3.<br />
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Thursday:<br />
Thursday morning we had to get up early to go get our certificados de antecedentes penales-- the document proving we haven't committed crimes in Argentina-- since we had to turn it in to the exchange office Friday morning. We had intended to go Wednesday morning, but I was still sick. So we got up, hopped on the colectivo, and managed to find our way to the office where we stood in line, paid our money, had our fingerprints scanned, and got receipts telling us to come back the next morning no earlier than 9:35. Then we sat in a cafe for four hours, finishing homework and people-watching. Maria and I agreed that people in this city are just generally good-looking. And everyone dresses well. It's a great place to people-watch, that's for sure.<br />
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After class we had a few hours to head home and get changed before we had to meet back up at the Teatro del Globo to see Codigo de Familia, a drama set a few years before the war over the Falkland Islands/ Islas Malvinas. Everyone in the class settled in and proceeded to concentrate for an hour and a half, and we all came out of the show understanding the gist of what had happened. We even caught some of the jokes. We were all very proud of ourselves. After the show, Marina (one of the professors) recommended that we go for dinner at Banchero, a popular pizza place. I'm so glad we did. The pizza was excellent; we shared a bottle of wine, and we all just generally had a great time.<br />
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Friday:<br />
We had to get up early again to head back to the Justice Dept. (I guess that's what it's called?) to pick up our certificates. After hitting a kiosco to make a photocopy, we dropped off the necessary documents and hit another cafe to do some homework. We finished earlier this time, as planned, and headed to Avenida Santa Fe for some shopping. We didn't actually find the store we were looking for, but we stopped in several places selling the beautiful boots that are everywhere in this city, and we also hit El Ateneo. This bookstore is in a remodeled theatre, and is the most beautiful, amazing place I've seen. They still have the painted ceiling and the molding on all the balconies. It's incredible. When we walked out of there, you couldn't slap the smile off my face. The place just made my day. <br />
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After class we headed back to the Resi and I was dying to get out and do something, but we couldn't figure out what. Luckily when I was eating dinner a few girls from my floor invited me to go out to a boliche with them ("early," at 1:30). Maria and I were both sort of undecided about going, but one single exclamation of "Están en Argentina!" persuaded us, and we went. It was only a few blocks away, so we walked over. We danced for a while, but we were both tired, and left by 3:30. The thing about the boliches is these girls here can naturally dance. They're not spectacular or well-versed in particular steps-- they just naturally dance better than I can. I don't know if it's cultural or genetic or what, but when the average American tries to move to the music, it's pretty awkward. Not the case in Argentina. <br />
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Saturday was gorgeous, so we went to the park for a bit to look through travel books, then to Casa de Gretha to get submarinos and alfajores-- so far, the alfajores there are my favorite-- and continue planning. Planning and scheming continued until late, then we tried a new pizza place for dinner, hit McDonald's for dulce de leche and Oreo McFlurrys, and watched a movie before calling it a night. Then this morning, before we went to San Telmo, I finally got to Skype with my family-- all of them!-- during family breakfast. It was almost like being there, except I didn't actually get to eat. So, you know, that was pretty disappointing. But I ended up eating loads of delicious food today, so I'm not terribly upset.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3449448328337951887.post-11305948006243623012011-07-06T19:47:00.001-07:002011-07-06T19:47:11.017-07:00EstereotiposOur current unit in the Spanish class is discrimination/stereotypes, etc. Within that theme, we're reviewing verb forms to express opinions or impressions. I don't know how many people know the stereotypes of the different South American countries, but what everyone says about Argentineans, especially portenos (people from Buenos Aires), is that they are cold and arrogant. I've heard Buenos Aires compared to New York: the same bustling, everyone-for-themself attitude, indifference to your fellow man, that sort of thing. Now, I'm not sitting here saying I believed that; I'm sitting here wondering where that stereotype even came from. Everyone I've met here has been generous, helpful, and compassionate.<br />
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Last night I got a little sick (too many sweet, sugary foods--read: medialunas) and I couldn't finish my homework or make it to class today because I just felt so awful. So not only did the managers of the residence give me something for my stomach and move me to a room further away from the construction that's happening in my bathroom, but today I just checked my email and found that Angeles, a contact from the exchange office, had sent me an e-mail. She had spoken with Maria and found out I wasn't feeling well, and she said to call her if I needed anything at all. I get the distinct feeling that I could have called her and asked her to drive me to the hospital or bring me some ginger ale (something I have not been able to find) and she would have done it, gladly.<br />
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There was more I was going to write, but now that I'm feeling better, I've got to work on the homework I missed. We're getting up early tomorrow to go to the Department of Justice and get a report of past offenses in Argentina (clearly, there will be none): a document we need in order to get our student visas.<br />
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So, to recap the weekend:<br />
Saturday night: boliche with the girls from the Resi. Very overwhelming, loud, fun, and one of the few types of establishments that still permit you to smoke indoors...so my clothes smelled disgusting.<br />
Sunday: recovering from the boliche. Sunday night we went to a parrilla to get some authentic Argentinean meat. It was incredible. (http://www.sigalavaca.com/) While we were there, Rebecca gave us advice for planning our trips and we were excited to realize that we were following the conversation pretty well when the other girls were talking. <br />
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Tomorrow we have our third class outing: to the theatre! I'm very excited. Stay tuned as always for more pictures and stories.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11089365270307350796noreply@blogger.com0