A Record

Oh yeah... I have a livejournal

2006-04-09T09:51:28Z

I am really bad about this whole...let's write and share my innermost thoughts thing. WEEELLL, it is too late to catch up now so we will just start fresh. Yesterday I went hiking in Bukhasan with some people from work. The yellow sand was out really thickly so our views weren't that great. Yellow sand is sand that blows down from the Gobi Desert and passes through some incredibly polluted areas where it picks up all sorts of pollutants. Many people here wear face masks to block it out, but perhaps it is my Los Angeles hardened lungs that didn't feel any different than any other day.
(Post interupted by sudden loss of motivation)

The problem of motion

2006-02-01T04:07:50Z

The problem of motion, of movement, of going, is the vast amount of energy needed to get everything moving. After two full months back I have officially overdosed on my "home" phase and "down" time. I've been reading up on Korea and put in my share of internet hours and now feel ready to commit to going. Until now I think the plan seemed more lip service than intention but my time shoveling fajitas is wearing thin and I want to go back to doing something meaningful to me. The downside is having to process such massive amounts of information about visas, immunizations, won, severance packages, recruiters, names of cities I can't pronounce, unis, hagwons, resumes, cover letters, hangul, references, flights, and so on and so forth. It makes doing the same thing everyday seem pretty tidy. No surprises. Ah but that familiar giddiness is somewhere in the background. I just have to get past the necessary formalities.

Non-Exhaustive, Non-Sequential List of Things to Do at Some Point

2006-01-16T08:02:10Z

1) Have children
2) Read to my children daily
3) Get married
4) Not get divorced
5) Learn how to drive a stick shift
6) Plant a garden and eat the plants that grow there
7) Live in a house with avocado, peach, apple, and lemon trees in the backyard
8) Ride a zipline over a jungle canopy
9) Drive across my own country
10) Drink coffee in a Viennese cafe
11) Sing drunken karaoke in Seoul
12) Return to Buenos Aires even if it is for just one day
13) Take a boat to Antarctica
14) Teach every grade from Kindergarten to fifth at least once (I guess I could cross off third grade already)
15) Publish something
16) See Tokyo at night
17) Eat my way through Thailand
18) Spend more time with my siblings
19) Ask my grandmother more questions
20) Skydive
21) Hike the Inca Trail
22) Run through a field of sunflowers
23) Be an unidentified gal pal of an up and coming celebrity
24) Drink my way through Germany
25) Drive from the boot of Italy to the Alps
26) Forgive my father
27) Carry no debt
28) Practice Spanish often
29) Grow my hair to my waist
30) Learn how to play guitar
31) Become a kick ass Scrabble player
32) Be better about writing and calling old friends
33) Make more close friends
34) Be more assertive
35) Adopt a pet
36) Volunteer in some capacity
37) See my dentist every year
38) Get a pap smear every year
39) Aim for vegan even if I fail most of the time
40) Go to Iceland to see if short brunettes really are considered exotic beauties there
41) Don't forget I'm priviledged and fortunate
42) Go on a trip with my mother
43) Go to therapy with my mother
44) Go to San Salvador for Carnival
45) Get more involved in the teacher's union and student's rights organizations
46) Have as many passionate romances as I can handle
47) Trust my instincts
48) Find the perfect shade of red lipstick
49) Ride a camel in the desert
50) Walk on as many streets, in as many places, with as many people as I can
51) Never again buy something in the thrift store that requires more than stitch witchery to make it wearable and/or requires me to lose weight
52) Ride a boat down the Thames
53) Be as forgiving of myself as I am of others
54) Be as critical of others as I am on myself
55) Organize all my pictures in albums in case I go senile
56) Learn how to take pictures in focus, centered, and not too dark.
57) Go to more museums
58) Hike more
59) Add to this list

What to say?

2005-12-22T09:38:38Z

It's past midnight and I should be asleep. Today did not turn out like I expected. I went for a long bike ride on a mild California winter day (today is the winter solstice). I fell down on my bike and hurt my hand but got up with only a bit of hurt pride at the passing cars that must have seen me. When I came home I came home to a message from my grandmother that my grandfather had had a heart attack last night and was in the hospital. I showered and got ready to go to the hospital. I called my uncle to see how things were going and he told me my grandfather was in the ICU, basically without a liver and without brainwaves and my grandmother was a mess. I still didn't believe, but hurried up nonetheless. I couldn't take it seriously. I imagined that he would be in the hospital but somehow not really sick, not really in any danger. I called Erika and asked her about what time to meet at The Smell for the show that at that point I still thought I would make. I drove to the hospital with my mother. We didn't speak the whole way. I didn't even think I wanted her to come, because I know how she hates hospitals.

We arrived and actually ran into my brother and my uncle at the front entrance. They were out for some air since they had been inside all day. My brother's very existence as a person I could just randomly (well somewhat randomly in this case)run into is still strange for me. My own face looming out of nowhere. As we were walking into the hospital my father came out of the front entrance to make a call. Never in my entire life have I seen my mother and my father in the same space. He walked past all of us with no other acknowledgement but an avoidance of the eyes.

I didn't recognize my grandmother. She shrunk. I now tower over her and feel like I could envelop her in my arms despite being half her size. My grandfather has a brother that looks just like him. I don't remember him at all but he remembered me. I went into the room with my mom and uncle to see my grandpa. It really was only then that the whole thing became in color, crisp around the edges, hyper real. My cool veneer vanished and I dissolved at seeing him so altered, so small, so fragile, so mortal. They left me alone.

His legs were thin under the mauve sheets and his collar bones were so prominent poking out of his hospital gown. I recognized them as my own. His belly swollen from his overworked liver (35 years hard alcoholism) seemed to belong to another body. He still had on his wedding ring on his hands that were still smooth despite (another 35) years of hard janitorial work. He still had the most beautiful dewy brown skin. Nearly no wrinkles and he still had the handsome salt and pepper mustache and goatee on his face. His eyes were half open but unblinking. It seemed vulgar that nobody had shut his eyes. The nurses didn't seem very concerned by the intense beeping noise from the machine that seemed to indicate 70 over something was not a good blood pressure to have. That seemed vulgar as well.

He wasn't himself. This wasn't the man who used to carry me to bed from the crushed velvet couch where I tried to stay awake until he got home from work. He wasn't counting out crisp bills to put into a crisp envelope for my special allowance that made me feel so special(it was only years later I realized it was part of child support my father wasn't paying). He wasn't climbing a rope ladder with me at Sea World where I broke my shoe. He wasn't buying me maxi pads when I was too embarrassed to buy them myself. He wasn't sitting in his chair watching the grandkids opening presents. He wasn't asking my ex the same exact questions he asked him three years in a row. He wasn't kissing my grandmother. He wasn't kissing me. He wasn't saying any of his phrases. He wasn't eating menudo. He wasn't popping open a Miller Lite. He wasn't packing things for people to take with them. He wasn't talking about football. He wasn't telling how he used to pick fruit. He wasn't checking people's cars. He wasn't smiling ever so slightly. He wasn't wearing corduroys and a flannel. He wasn't sitting on the beach. He was only the shell of the things I remember.

Everybody was going home. My grandmother hadn't slept or showered or eaten since yesterday. We made promises to call if something should happen in the night. My uncle mentioned cremation as my grandparents' agreement with each other. My mother and I went to a bar. After the first strong drink I called Erika again to tell her I wasn't going to make it. My mother and I could only rehash the pure surrealness of it all and think about the inevitability of ourselves being in the same place. She still doesn't know what she wants. Neither do I. In the end, is the best you can hope for is that you aren't alone? At the end of it all, is it just you and your offspring and their offspring if you're lucky? After the second strong drink, well, at least we were less tense.
The third...hmmm... I didn't finish a third. At that point I only wish I had already found a new journal to write in. I filled up my last one in Argentina. I hate getting all emo in a public forum.

Insomnia

2005-12-06T08:36:00Z

I can't sleep lately. I hate it when that happens. I used to be such a champeon sleeper.

May I take your order?

2005-11-30T05:08:21Z

I've been home nearly two weeks now. The reverse culture shock is now beginning to wear off- the giant cups of coffee don't seem as strange, the English everywhere isn't as shocking, the excessiveness in everything Americans do isn't as disgusting. I've been rather reclusive. With the exception of a few short visits to friends I haven't mustered the energy to face a crowd yet.
I went looking for job last week. The qualifications for said job were a)no obligation to stay for any specific length of time b) good money c)starts soon. Waitressing or food service or whatever it is called nowadays has always been my second career. More than once I thought I would never have to do it again. Like a prostitute that can't stop turning tricks, I cannot stop accepting tips. So I turned in this application to a local restaurant that shall remain nameless, since I forsee a goldmine of anecdotes. The restaurant manager is the typical restaurant manager- he is named Jeff or Mike or Chris or some other generic name. He is of course a former athlete and wears a button down shirt over an ever growing middle age tummy. He has a wife and children and drives an SUV. I know all this because I am really good at asking questions. I am even better at answering questions I already know that answer to.
'What would you do if a customer is unhappy?'
'Well, I first would apologize, then make sure I understand the source of the problem, then I would fix it........' and so on and so forth.
What I really think is that if they are so picky then they should have just eaten at home. But in the eyes of Tom or Bob or whatever I am a beacon of excellent customer service. I am now employed and I shouldn't complain. The snob in me can't shake the thought that even though this is a temporary situation (a couple months tops), there is something a bit sad about being 26 years old, living with my mother, and waiting tables. I feel like I've regressed to 17 again except then I at least had a piece of shit car. Temporary, temporary, temporary, that is my mantra.

Things I will miss about Argentina in no particular order

2005-11-26T02:52:16Z

Original entry date November 17, 2005 while sitting in the Atlanta airport waiting for my connecting flight after a beautiful sleeping pill assisted night on a 10 hour flight.

I still love commas.

sunny days in Parque Las Heras, intercambios with Aimee, mate and facturas in the reserva, Manolo, Corrientes at night, the smell of fresh coffee, my little room in Alberto's house, the balcony on mine and Jana's apartment, running around the lake, running in the reserva, photography class, Nic's voice, the warmth of the radio station, going into work and spending most of it drinking coffee and chatting with the other teachers, morrones, cafe con leche, pasta casera, 152, walking down Santa Fe with my sunglasses on, drinking Quilmes as the sun comes up, Plaza Serrano on a summer night, the sound of the leaves in Palermo on all those crisp fall afternoons, Faith's hammock, my roof, guilt free glad to be here, the ability of the Argentines to relax and enjoy themselves, thinking in American dollars once in a while, watching kids with pigeons in Plaza de Mayo, children walking in their guardapolvos, the feeling of moving underground, Johannes' bedroom, the smell/sound/light/sight of the streets of San Telmo, meat as big as Brian's head, wine nights, Saturday fruit market, smell of Carla's cooking, the sounds of Marcos' violins, Daniel's guitar, Konstanze's saxaphone, perhaps even Natalia's horrible singing, tango in the streets, fanny packs, men offering seats, men offering the door, the juxtaposition of different types of architecture, riding statues, the smoky clausrophobia of La Cigale, kioskos selling anything anytime, ice cream, delivery sin cargo, almendras cooking in copper pots on street corners in microcentro, men in suits in microcentro, Puente de las Mujeres at night, Eduardo's avoidance of grammar, Jose's crush on me, Zander's American accent, dogs laying on the sidewalk in the middle of a crowd, the dog in the wheelchair, the lady walking the cat, making out in public places, hiking, being alone (but that belongs on both lists), struggling and feeling better about it, Valeria's white couch, Spanish and all its humbling frustrating moments, looking at Claudia, Claudia's corrections, La Coruna and its one eyed dog, six language parties, the sweaty heat that makes me feel young, walking down the street with my eyes wide open

That's all I could verbalize for now.

Things I hate about Argentina in no particular order

2005-11-26T02:32:59Z

Original journal entry was November 15, 2005 written on a bus in the middle of a 24 hour travel day that had many unpleasant things including: a freezing sleepless night in a too small seat, a pizza that made me sick, making out with a guy involved in an anarchist marriage, about 20 mosquitos bites on my arm while waiting in the Tucuman bus station at 2am, no bathing,the knowledge I was saying goodbye.

I love commas.

Things I hate about Argentina: piropos (catcalls), lack of spicy anything, the shitty and utterly corrupt state of every institution in this country, no change, excruciatingly long bus rides because they can't get their damn infrastructure in order to run a decent rail system, the dog shit on the sidewalk, ?De donde sois?, foreigner's prices, tomato/cheese/onions in any combination, television, the mullet, Rolingas, the conformity that pervades the people in thought and fashion, car exhaust, not understanding everything, safety rules don't exist, they're horrid dancers, having to sit in bars, aggressive macho men, flying cockroaches, all the elecrical outlets are different, hard work isn't compensated, broken sidewalks, neglected buildings, there is never toilet paper and/or soap and/or paper towels and/or a toilet seat in bathrooms, the anorexic look, Libertador San Martin, they think 80's music is cool in an unironic way, feminism hasn't taken root...

That was all I could think of at the time.

Employment

2005-11-20T05:46:22Z

I need a job. For the first time in my working life I don't have any idea what my next job will be. Waitress? Nanny? Egg donor? My mother suggests I go to the new Victoria Gardens mall and find a restaurant there to work in for the holidays. That sounds logical, but somehow imagining myself getting in the car and driving there to apply is very difficult. Imagining myself getting in the car and driving there every day is damn near inconceivable.

Craig's List only made me more annoyed. As an English teacher I found the grammar errors and cutesy spellings very disturbing. Perhaps proofreading Craig's list entries could be my new job.

Anybody else have any ideas?

The birds are singing tra la la

2005-09-22T22:54:46Z

Spring. I saw little green buds on a tree last week and very nearly fell on my knees and cried. Last Saturday was the first really warm and sunny day. My friends and I took a little hike in the ecological reserve, we drank mate, ate pastries, and looked at the river. Later we got a beer and sat outside. I sat fully in the sun and gladly let my face get a hint of a tan. My whole life I´ve slathered on sunscreen and hid under parasols so for me to voluntarily allow sunlight to hit my face is a small indication of how sun starved I am. Ahhh spring.... the world is new again.

Bare Trees

2005-09-17T21:55:59Z

This was a difficult winter. It was a season of barrenness, cold, discomfort, melancholy, loneliness, realizations, questions, doubt, and depression woven into the fabric of this experience along with pleasure, discovery, learning, surprise, and fun. A friend summed it all up with "The farther you go the closer you get". For a second I wanted to scoff at her new agey phrase, but I couldn´t since I´ve found it to be true. All alone here, I found myself traveling with my own best and worse companion. I found myself examining things when I cleared away the distractions that gave me an excuse to ignore or minimize or detach myself from them completely . I have always had a thing that I clung to- a boyfriend, a job, a plan. Ironically, my absolute freedom, the very present I purposely sought and gave myself, was the thing that frightened/frightens me most. I found myself confronted with every weakness, every fault and it all seemed amplified in my own head by a certain road weariness with myself. The summer and fall passed so easily, so joyfully, so quickly that I was caught off guard when the cold seemed to change so much more than the weather. If I could have, at that point I would have ditched me at the bus station or in a crowd. How could this annoying travel companion show such ingratitude to freedom by being depressed? How could she not sleep? Why is she hiding with a book? How come she feels so disconnected from other people? Why is she crying on the telephone? Why does she blush (a hard thing for her to do) when she fucks up the preterit/imperfect yet again? I mean, don´t get me wrong, I wasn´t curled up in the fetal position all winter long. The reality is that being abroad isn´t only about the pleasure of new food, places, and people, it is also the pleasure of yourself. The pleasure of green leaves in spring can only come with the barrenness of winter. (I swear I won´t use any more inspirational postcard phrases).

God is in the details and stuff

2005-08-18T23:03:50Z

I have a lot of spare time. More spare time than I think I have ever had in my entire life. Like really, I waste a lot time doing a series of enjoyable yet vaguely useless things. Even if I try to justify them by saying that they are part of my cultural study on Argentina and life is about the details and stuff, I still feel like a giant slacker. A partial list of my daily activities in no particular order.
*Struggling to get radio reception with my itty bitty radio then proceed to try to make out what the lyrics are.
*Staring out the window of the bus at the umm,interesting fashions and haircuts passing by.
*Staring at people on the subway and making up stories for them.
*Eavesdropping (all in the name of Spanish development)
*Stopping to take pictures and/or stare at the random cool architecture/pile of dog poo/graffiti/animal that crosses my path.
*Reading the Clarin and drinking coffee.
*Torturing my roommates by butchering their mother tongues and asking them "who is that?" about everybody on the television.
*Long, luxurious hot showers
*Conjugating verbs
*Cursing at my cell phone and banging it against stuff or shouting into it
*Resisting the urge to eat every time I pass a confiteria/panaderia/man with sweets in a basket.
*Correcting grammatical errors in a firm yet encouraging manner (Indeed we "drink or have a coffee, not take a coffee")
*Long chats with a miscellaneous assortment of people. Calories, caffeine, or alcohol always included.
*Saying the radio station's email address wrong every single time.

Above all else-------
*Lamenting that I don´t have internet in the privacy of my own home so I could follow up on stories like this-

Jude Caught in the Nude By Sarah Hall
It looks like Jude Law's been caught with his pants down. Again.
Just a month after the Alfie star issued a public apology to his fiancée, Sienna Miller, for cheating on her with his children's nanny, Law's private life is once again on display.
The actor was snapped in the buff by a lurking paparazzo as he changed into a swimsuit outside his mother's home in France.
The resulting money shot--a full-frontal pic of Jude in the nude--quickly made the rounds on the Internet, revealing Law's attributes to the world.
Law's rep, Simon Halls, scoffed when asked for comment on the photo.
"Oh, please!" Halls told the New York Post. "The guy is on vacation in France with his kids. People need to give him a little bit of a break."
Despite the negative publicity that has dogged Law of late, his popularity seems intact--at least with the ladies.
The actor's unplanned nude scene came just days after he was determined to have the sexiest rear end in show biz, according to a poll of 1,000 British moviegoers, who voted for Law based on his bath scene in The Talented Mr. Ripley. The survey was conducted by the Odeon theater chain to hype its plushy new seats.
But good looks aside, the actor is still in hot water when it comes to the woman he asked to be his bride.
However, according to published reports, Law may slowly be getting closer to smoothing things over with Miller.
Though the actress' mother said Miller was "too angry for tears" after learning of Law's indiscretion, apparently, she's not too angry to bring Law as her date to a family wedding.
Earlier this week, the U.K.'s Sun reported that Law would accompany Miller to her older sister Savannah's wedding on Sept. 24.
Meanwhile, the couple reunited Wednesday to take a very public walk across London's Hampstead Heath in what the British papers called a show of unity.
When he's not publicly admitting an affair or having his manhood splashed across the Internet for any Web-savvy individual to view, Law has found time to keep up with his day job this summer.
The actor recently wrapped filming on All the King's Men opposite Sean Penn and Kate Winslet. The film opens Dec. 16.
Law is currently filming Breaking and Entering with Juliette Binoche. Next up, he'll star in the drama Dexterity.

Somebody please find a link to that photo!!!!!

Unhappy Birthday

2005-08-04T19:23:10Z

To all of you who forgot my birthday on Monday, you suck. You suck so much that you made me use a Smiths song title as a subject.

Off the Meat Wagon

2005-07-26T20:15:42Z

This is a story about a girl and her meat. The story truly began one cold and rainy night with a delicious delivery of Chinese food. The glass noodles were perfect, the tofu was crispy and exquisite, the sauce satisfyingly salty, yet there was an odd slippery feeling on the tongue, a flavor she couldn´t place. As she dug into the container for a second grand helping, she noticed for the first time that what she took to be egg, was in fact, pieces of chicken. She waited in suspense throughout the night for explosive diarrhea or a lightening strike from some angry chicken in the sky. Of course, neither came.

A couple weeks later her friend who had been dreaming of eating a giant steak with her accompanied her to a parilla (Argentine grill). There, she tentatively placed her first piece of consciously consumed meat in over seven years in her mouth and slowly chewed. The texture was weird, the flavor indescribably foreign, and the blood on the plate a bit nauseating.

Then, a few days later she had another bite of lomo. Then a few days later at a magnificent Arabian restaurant, the apricot chicken looked oddly appealing so she had a full three bites. The chicken didn´t taste as good as it looked and she happily returned to the hummus and falafal. Some time later her friend had a traditional Argentine stew (locro) that looked so warm and filling so she had a bite. It was as hearty as it looked. A couple days later, the ham and pineapple pizza her friend was eating looked appetizing so she dared eat the funky Argentine ham and it wasn´t so bad. Then, one of those days where you just didn´t find time to eat happened. She prowled the streets looking for something satisfying that wasn´t pasta. A sign seemed to jump out at her from the sidewalk and it read, "milanesa". The dreaded, breaded, flat, ubiquitous, mysterious Argentine favorite was calling her. She ordered from the surly waiter who brought her milanesa served up with the traditional lemon wedge and french fries. As she looked at it, she felt a certain something give way. Her ideals? Her standards? Her arteries? Her many hours explaining to non comprehending faces the concept that yes, indeed, chicken is meat too, at that moment seemed in vain. She bit into the milanesa....and liked it. The significance of having a full plate of meat all to her self seemed like a lot to bear. She was no longer dabbling. Bites off other people´s plates didn´t really count. Now it was official. She had fallen off the meat wagon.

The vegetarian equivalent of an alcoholic´s bender had to be the matambre sandwich ordered from a little kiosco. Matambre is this sickening mix of salame (?), egg, carrots, and something unidentifiable somehow formed into a swirl of color and flesh. Slapped between two pieces of soft french bread and thin slices of mozzarella, it filled the tummy and didn´t break the wallet. Regret and bad breath was the lingering after affect. Last night she made a tuna sandwich. Fish is definitely not on the menu again in the near future. So this story ends. One girl giving into temptation in a city full of delicious things to eat.

I need one of those booofaaandaas

2005-07-19T22:07:30Z

A few days ago I saw on the news that it was 0 degrees. Ok this is Celsius but still...0 fucking degrees! I can´t deal with the cold. My daily survival gear includes; stockings (for wearing underneath my pants), at least two shirts, a coat, a scarf (bufanda if you prefer), a beanie (gorro if you prefer), tissues (for the inevitable runny nose), leather gloves (a gift from my mother that I once thought too bourgeios to wear but dead cows are warm), and chapstick. All my friends here seem to be from cold climates and were making fun of me and my over-reliance on accessories. I thought my little hippie commune former conventillo was pretty rad when I moved in, but when I need to cross the courtyard to go to the bathroom at 3 AM I curse the world. Spring is only a month away here..or so they say...

Dating Abroad

2005-06-30T22:14:24Z

Dating somebody abroad is a bit akin to knowing how and when you are going to die. If I knew I was going to die of a heart attack in the year 2047 I would take comfort knowing I have time, but always be conscious of that fact in everything I did. As opposed to normal relationships, which I could kid myself might have a future, dating abroad there is no room for kidding yourself. There is an exact expiration date of your relationship and it is printed on a ticket. It adds a cheesy romance sort of bittersweetness to the whole thing. In an abstract way we are always aware of the finite nature of things, but sometimes, blissful ignorance is better. Yes, live in the moment and appreciate the here and now and all that is nice. Better to have loved and lost and all those cliches. But sometimes "when I go traveling, home, etc..." is said and we look at each other knowing these are solo activities and leave the statement hanging in the air you can´t help but feel bummed out. The Californian in me can only express it as totally bummed out.

Moving House

2005-06-27T22:09:01Z

My roommate Jana went back to the States so I had to move. My new place is cool. It is in San Telmo, which if you had to make an LA comparison is like Silverlake but with better architecture, less hipsters, and more tourists. My building is one of these old houses built around a central courtyard with rooms all around it. My friend Brian who told me the room was available is the only other American. The idea is to live with all Argentines in order to improve my Spanish. Everybody is really nice, but my Spanish isn´t going anywhere because they are all so nice, nobody corrects me. The Argentines all go to the music school nearby and at all hours you can hear pianos plunking or guitars strumming. There is a good wine drinking roof too. The only drawback is that the bathroom is across the courtyard which sucks in the rain. There is so much more to say, but it must be saved for another time.

A Girl and Her Waterfall

2005-06-27T21:59:10Z

Last weekend was a long weekend and I didn´t want to stay in the city. Thursday afternoon I decided, ``Hey, I should go to Iguazu Falls´´ and bought my bus ticket for the next afternoon. My independent spirit is in a state of rejuvenation and I decided to travel alone. So I took a 15 hour bus ride to the Argentina/Brazil border. These long bus rides are a bit like entering travel purgatory where you aren`t really anywhere and the time until you get somewhere feels like an eternity. Granted, the bus isn´t a bad place to be, you just have to be there for a really long time. I actually slept for like 10 of the 15 hours both ways thanks to barely sleeping the week leading up to the trip. The conscious hours were spent watching crappy movies like Simone and Phantom of the Opera.

I arrived and checked into the hostel where I was the only person in the female dorm. I guess my idea of meeting new female friends didn´t pan out so well. To get to the Brazilian side of the falls you hop on a regular bus that brings you to the border then drops you off and picks you up again twenty feet later after you got your passport stamped. As I rode the bus, the weather turned a bit rainy but was surprisingly warm. From the park entrance I took a double decker bus with about 30 elderly people and we drove on this road surrounded by lush greenery and rust red dirt. The bus dropped us off at the start of the hiking circuit where the busload of tourists got swamped by these animals that look like skinny raccoons called coatis. The tour guide was like beating them away with a stick, but the tourists were feeding them and petting them. All I could think of was rabies. They (the coatis, not the tourists) were kind of vicious about pawing at bags and stuff. I met a guy who told me they smelled the cookies in his plastic bag, ripped open the bag, and ran away with the cookies and his bus ticket. His bus ticket had some gnarly teeth marks on it. Walking down the trail all you hear is the rush of the chocolate colored water and the dampness in the air. You could see the panoramic view of the falls on the Argentinean side which looked like a backdrop it was too perfect. I was able to walk out onto this platform built in the middle of the river where you can see down the canyon and get splashed by a fall. It was one of those moments where I felt just really lucky to be experiencing. Being baptized by this mountain of water in the middle of the river- unreal.

The next morning at breakfast I met a German guy who I ended up hiking with all day on the Argentinean side. The first thing we saw in the park was the Devil´s Throat. In order to get there you need ot cross a series of bridges barely above the surface of the river. It had been raining the week before and the river was 2 meters higher than normal. San Martin island in the middle of the river was flooded out and closed to tourists. Throughout the park, but especially on the way to the Devil´s Throat there were so many butterflies of every color, every size. I was in heaven. The Devil´s Throat is deceptive because the water runs so smoothly until you get closer and hear the crash of the water. Once it hits the edge the waters collect together and form this brown, steaming mass of water. The sound is deafening and pictures can´t capture the feeling of vertigo as you stare down on this unbelievable churning pit of water. It was amazing.

My German friend already had tickets for this excursion and talked me into going too. It ended up being one of my favorite parts. We rode a jeep through the jungle and then boarded a boat. The boat raced through the canyon jumping on the waves and splashing around. I could up the walls where water seeped out of the rocks and little ferns or somthing grew in the crevices. Just when I felt I wanted to puke from the waves, we stopped at the bottom of a fall just out of range of the landing. The sun was coming out just then and made a vivid rainbow nearby. It was postcard material. Of course the driver did the requisite run through the splash zone and got everybody wet. The whole ride I couldn´t decide whether to scream or laugh.

the day was spent hiking around and being amazed again and again at standing on bridges and looking at water rushing beneath my feet and looking over edges and feeling my stomach flip at watching how far down it was. My trip was an awesome weekend away. It was the kind of place that makes you want to take a picture every 2 feet and I tried, but I never could capture how awesome it was. Yes, hands down one of the more impressive sights of my life.

Casa Rosada

2005-06-27T20:12:37Z

I pass by the Casa Rosada every day on my way home. Really it wasn´t until today that it totally hit me that yes, this is a giant pink house, but it is an entirely different shade of pink on each side. One side is a pepto bismol pink, two sides a faint blush, yet another a more rosy pink as if a Barbie loving little girl with ADD was the master behind the paint job. I know I was vaguely aware of this fact before, yet at that moment this multi-pink hued seat of government (well, not really the seat, but you get the idea.)captured the essence of Argentina. One of the endearing and annoying quirks about this culture is this strange mass of contradictions. On one hand, Argentines seem very preoccupied with image and appearances as a whole. There is an effort to appear more European than Latin in cuisine,dress, and culture; a strong desire to appear more affluent than is longer practical; they go through the motions to appear more organized than they really are. Yet on the other hand, the whole charade really falls apart in the details. At some point, somewhere, it should have seemed that somebody, somewhere would paint the whole thing the same color, even if it was just to contribute to the appearance of a well run government. Yes, contradictory is a great description of the Argentines.

Failure

2005-06-27T20:01:11Z

I determined I am the worst person in the history of the world when it comes to things like personal correspondence. My plan of transporting all of my friends and family into my daily life from thousands of miles away through the sheer force of my words has failed. tsk tsk

I think I have said this before

2005-05-25T21:09:01Z

I´m pretty sure I´ve said this before, but one more time could never hurt. I swear I am never drinking again. Today is a national holiday so that means no work, no school. My plan was to go out last night and have a few drinks with friends and make today a productive day. So at dinner between four people we shared three bottles of wine. So far so good. The first bar I had a pint of Isenbeck. Still good. Perhaps it was the shot of Fernet that made things go a bit fuzzy. At the second bar it was two strong rum and cokes bought by my new found friends from the first bar. It really was all downhill from there. Excuse me now. I think I have to vomit.

Horse Head

2005-05-24T18:23:39Z

So I did watch the Godfather and I have to say the horse head in the bed was one of the greatest sickest pleasures of life. Worth the 4 pesos alone.

Should I take it out on the Godfather?

2005-05-20T21:28:50Z

I have never seen The Godfather and every cinephile I say that to gasps in mild disgust. I might never see The Godfather. Not that I haven`t tried. In fact there is a little Blockbuster box with El Padrino on the side sitting in my apartment right now. It was rented by a pair of people who had intentions of spending a rainy cold night in couple-y comfort watching a long ass violent movie. Instead, said pair launched into annoying discussion that ended with us looking at each other in a pissed off way for radically different reasons. Needless to say, the Godfather looked on as another relationship bit the dust. It isn´t the Godfather`s fault, but somehow I want to take it out on something. Should I be immature and not watch the stupid movie just because it is associated with an annoying situation? or should I watch the movie and exorcise my post break up anger with some blood? hmmm. That´s a tough call. Perhaps if I drink while watching the movie. Ahh I knew a solution would present itself.

Feliz Navidad

2005-05-11T20:42:43Z

So, upon a bit of contemplation and against the preference of basically my entire family I have decided to stay here until December. My Spanish is still crap, I still have so much to see here, my job is going well, I´m starting to make more friends, I´m dating someone I really like, and I am in no rush to, as my mother stated so well, "get back to reality". Reality exists here also. So barring any unforeseen circumstances such as illness, extreme heartbreak, the crash of the English teaching market, or family disaster here I am and here I will stay.

Feliz Cumpleaños

2005-05-11T20:35:16Z

Happy Birthday, Erika! Yes I know your birthday was actually on Monday the 9th, but I feel it my duty to put my birthday wishes in print. When you come down here, we will have a proper celebration. Muah, Muah.

Fernando I heard I missed your birthday too. Spank me, I´m a terrible friend.