I am reporting to you from my bed here in Vicuña Mackenna. A place I have become quite accustomed to. For I am on day 6 of the most terrible sickness ever. Granted I never get sick and quite frankly I am a huge wimp when I am. They´ve got some sort of super flu that my body just isn´t used to, I guess. Or so I thought.....
One huge cultural difference I have noticed regarding illnesses in Argentina may or may not make me sound a little ignorant on the contraction of flu related illnesses. I for one have always believed (and have been told) that with proper body maintenence and steering clear of germies are the first rules of avoiding whatever disease may be currently passing around. That is DEFINATELY not what people believe here.
Yeah, sure. I guess it helps but here the rules are a little different. Keep in mind, I do currently live in Colorado and though I have only lived there for two Winters, you would think I would know a little about taking care of myself in the Winter. Especially since winters here aren´t really winters like we have. It´s more late summer or fall. I go outside in clothing that I feel is warm and everyone looks at me through their scarfs and woolen hats like I am some sort of looney.
"You NEED to cover up you chest!"
Don´t worry. I´m not parading the "ladies" around Vicuña Mackenna. What they want me to do is where a turle neck everyday. I hate turtle necks and I don´t think I´ve worn one since they were part of my uniform at private school. So I simply tell everyone.
"This is nothing. I am not even the slightest bit cold."
Oh, but it doesn´t matter, because it is widely believed here in Argentina that germs penetrate through the skin past the ribcage and straight to you lungs. You d0n´t get sick from germs entering orafices (ie mouth, nose, ears ect). You get sick from magic germs that defy science and jump through bodies.
So I smile politely and tell them I will start wearing more appropriate clothing for the unsurvivable winters of Vicuña Mackenna, while secretly rolling my eyes. Paaaaa-llllleeaaassseee!! Even if I ever got sick, which I won´t (the flu is for kids, old people and wimps), I sure as hell am not going to get it through my ribcage, thank you.
These are the same people, by the way that pass me the mate right after a conversation stopping cough fest. And wouldn´t you know it, after I leave the room to dispose of the resulting grossness of that very same coughfest, there´s the mate.... just waiting for me.
(mate is a very traditional tea that every Argentine partakes in. similar to the English tea time but they use one glass, one straw for everyone in the group.. including the sick ones).
So for three weeks I had the same coughing cold. It was getting a little annoying, but not quite as annoying as the flu that followed it. So the girl that never gets sick started to become a believer in these Argentine tall tales of jumping germs. I even caught myself covering up my chest with my down jacket that I use for skiing on a day that was probably 60ºF. I started wearing socks in the house (something that Gonzalo yells at me every day for). We have heated floors. You know how uncomfortable hot feet are to me.
I started making the changes plus doing all the rules my mother has told me to do all of my life. I still wasn´t getting better. I started cursing La Gripe!
"I hate you La Gripe! What good have you ever done to anyone in your life!"
So for 5 days I stayed in bed nursing the fevers and the body pains and wondering why my always so strong body was failing me now.
Turns out I have Bronchitis. Oh. Well then. Sorry La gripe. Didn´t mean to get all worked up there. Carry on!
Monday, 16 June 2008
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
Hostel Life
Ya gotta love the hostel life. Everything about it is just freakin´ awesome. This entry will not revisit a specific hostel experience, but a general overview of what life is like in a typical, hostelling internatioal, hostel in South America. A slice of life, if you will.
Because I generally travel alone, I like to stay in the dormitories. The bigger the dorm the better but typically, I´m not too picky. All dorms have bunk beds and a community shared bathroom. I love it mainly because it reminds me of an adult style summer camp, the adult part being that it is coed and the summer camp part being that there are bunk beds and new, exciting friends to be had. And anyone who has known me for let´s say, at least 5 minutes knows how much I love summer camp (In fact, if I could still get away with going to a summer camp without looking like a creepy 25 year old- I SO would!).
When travelling alone, I have a general schedule upon entering a hostel.
1. I check in and eyeball the place (meaning I look for potential friends to hang out with).
2. On the way to my room I pray that I´m not the only girl in my dorm and that there is someone hanging out in the room that I can strike a conversation with, and hopefully become friends with.
3. If there is no one in the room (and there usually isn´t) I put my stuff on the bed and head to the common areas (ie. the room with the free internet or the bar if there happens to be one). I do this, once again, to look for conversation.
note: I may sound a teensy weensy desperate at this point, but I assure you that it is quite a quick and subconcious process.
4. If there is no one to talk to or if I feel like being alone I take to the streets to look for an information station to get whatever I need as far as tourist information (maps, newspapers, fliers etc.)
5. I then look for a cafe where I can quietly read my travel book and all of my info while sipping cafe con leche.
note: this may sound quite calculated, but it varies from place to place. this is a general outline.
There is a specific protocall of questions that are ALWAYS asked when first meeting someone is a hostel. They go as follows:
1. where are you from? (of coarse)
2. how long have you been here? (this could mean in the hostel or in Argentina. whichever one they decide to answer first, ask the other one directly after.)
3. what other places have you visited before __________? insert name of city you are in.
note: this question ignites quite a conversation. There is nothing more a hostel goer likes than to talk about traveling. In fact, it is quite impossible to steer away from this subject.
4. where are you going next? In between all of these questions, you add whatever bit of advice you have to give them, and they nod politely. sometimes you know they are truly interested, and sometimes you know that they aren´t really listening. Either way you give advice.... it is proper hostel going ettiquite.
You might have noticed, the question "what is your name?" was not asked. This question is rarely asked, and if it is, your response goes through one ear and out the other. It´s not important. That is what is so great about meeting people in a hostel, you meet them, have pleasant conversations, maybe do some sight seeing together or go out for drinks, go in together on making dinner in the community kitchen, exchange email addresses, and then say your farewells- tears excluded. Maybe you will see them in future travels, maybe you won´t. That is the whole beauty of it all. And if you do happen to run into them in the future, asking for their name again is purely inoffensive. WHY you ask? Because everyone has been there. Everyone is floating in the same boat, as they say. Also, background info about what you do in your native land is rarely talked about unless it applies to one of these 5 questions. People don´t care. I love it.
And what´s even better is the diversity you come across. You meet people from EVERYWHERE. And if they are from a place you want to visit in the future, all you have to do is invite them to be your facebook friend, send them a message every now and then, and you got a bonefide native tourguide at your clever little fingertips. BRILLIANT! Now that´s thinking ahead, my fellow hostel stayer inner.
I know this all seems like some sort of scheming manipulative way to bag future badass vacations, but that´s just the surface. The majority of these people are truly wonderful and interesting. Obviously, you have a lot in common: you´ve seen the same things\same experiences, read the same books, have the same life goals (i know what you are thinking... life goals? I´m talking about travelling life goals), the same philosophy in life, they´re at the same place in your life, etc etc. These people are from all over the place. You get to hear all sorts of different opinions and perspectives on everything. Have you ever wondered how we (people from the USA) look to foreigners? how English sounds coming out of our mouths? the typical things that we say and do? I never thought or even bothered to notice any of these things about my own people. There are anwers to these questions, and what´s even crazier, as soon as you hear these answers you say to yourself, "wow. they have got our number down. Their stereotypes are actually quite correct."
Sound like a cult yet? It is kinda. But one of those good cults... ya know... one that contributes stuff to things (notice my generalization because I don´t have an example of a good cult.) Have I convinced you to join US yet? good. Don´t forget your copy of "the alchemist" my friend! One in English and Spanish, and follow the trail of backpacks..... We´re on our way to the traveler´s mecca.......... THE HOSTEL!!!
Because I generally travel alone, I like to stay in the dormitories. The bigger the dorm the better but typically, I´m not too picky. All dorms have bunk beds and a community shared bathroom. I love it mainly because it reminds me of an adult style summer camp, the adult part being that it is coed and the summer camp part being that there are bunk beds and new, exciting friends to be had. And anyone who has known me for let´s say, at least 5 minutes knows how much I love summer camp (In fact, if I could still get away with going to a summer camp without looking like a creepy 25 year old- I SO would!).
When travelling alone, I have a general schedule upon entering a hostel.
1. I check in and eyeball the place (meaning I look for potential friends to hang out with).
2. On the way to my room I pray that I´m not the only girl in my dorm and that there is someone hanging out in the room that I can strike a conversation with, and hopefully become friends with.
3. If there is no one in the room (and there usually isn´t) I put my stuff on the bed and head to the common areas (ie. the room with the free internet or the bar if there happens to be one). I do this, once again, to look for conversation.
note: I may sound a teensy weensy desperate at this point, but I assure you that it is quite a quick and subconcious process.
4. If there is no one to talk to or if I feel like being alone I take to the streets to look for an information station to get whatever I need as far as tourist information (maps, newspapers, fliers etc.)
5. I then look for a cafe where I can quietly read my travel book and all of my info while sipping cafe con leche.
note: this may sound quite calculated, but it varies from place to place. this is a general outline.
There is a specific protocall of questions that are ALWAYS asked when first meeting someone is a hostel. They go as follows:
1. where are you from? (of coarse)
2. how long have you been here? (this could mean in the hostel or in Argentina. whichever one they decide to answer first, ask the other one directly after.)
3. what other places have you visited before __________? insert name of city you are in.
note: this question ignites quite a conversation. There is nothing more a hostel goer likes than to talk about traveling. In fact, it is quite impossible to steer away from this subject.
4. where are you going next? In between all of these questions, you add whatever bit of advice you have to give them, and they nod politely. sometimes you know they are truly interested, and sometimes you know that they aren´t really listening. Either way you give advice.... it is proper hostel going ettiquite.
You might have noticed, the question "what is your name?" was not asked. This question is rarely asked, and if it is, your response goes through one ear and out the other. It´s not important. That is what is so great about meeting people in a hostel, you meet them, have pleasant conversations, maybe do some sight seeing together or go out for drinks, go in together on making dinner in the community kitchen, exchange email addresses, and then say your farewells- tears excluded. Maybe you will see them in future travels, maybe you won´t. That is the whole beauty of it all. And if you do happen to run into them in the future, asking for their name again is purely inoffensive. WHY you ask? Because everyone has been there. Everyone is floating in the same boat, as they say. Also, background info about what you do in your native land is rarely talked about unless it applies to one of these 5 questions. People don´t care. I love it.
And what´s even better is the diversity you come across. You meet people from EVERYWHERE. And if they are from a place you want to visit in the future, all you have to do is invite them to be your facebook friend, send them a message every now and then, and you got a bonefide native tourguide at your clever little fingertips. BRILLIANT! Now that´s thinking ahead, my fellow hostel stayer inner.
I know this all seems like some sort of scheming manipulative way to bag future badass vacations, but that´s just the surface. The majority of these people are truly wonderful and interesting. Obviously, you have a lot in common: you´ve seen the same things\same experiences, read the same books, have the same life goals (i know what you are thinking... life goals? I´m talking about travelling life goals), the same philosophy in life, they´re at the same place in your life, etc etc. These people are from all over the place. You get to hear all sorts of different opinions and perspectives on everything. Have you ever wondered how we (people from the USA) look to foreigners? how English sounds coming out of our mouths? the typical things that we say and do? I never thought or even bothered to notice any of these things about my own people. There are anwers to these questions, and what´s even crazier, as soon as you hear these answers you say to yourself, "wow. they have got our number down. Their stereotypes are actually quite correct."
Sound like a cult yet? It is kinda. But one of those good cults... ya know... one that contributes stuff to things (notice my generalization because I don´t have an example of a good cult.) Have I convinced you to join US yet? good. Don´t forget your copy of "the alchemist" my friend! One in English and Spanish, and follow the trail of backpacks..... We´re on our way to the traveler´s mecca.......... THE HOSTEL!!!
Sunday, 27 April 2008
3 lessons learned
Acouple of weekends ago, I decided to visit the Sierras (more specifically, La Cumbre). The Sierras are a series of large hills that run through the Cordoba region. I like to refer to this trip as my networking vacation. Once again, since I had no one to travel with, I headed out by myself. When Piera found this out, I immediately noticed the motherly worry look appear on her face.
"Sola? Pobre Kasey!"
I tried to explain to her "No pobre Kasey! I like to travel by myself. In fact, I enjoy it." I have finally learned that there is no Argentinian that will ever believe me.
Lesson #1 No one believes that you like to be alone. Stop saying it. They think you are weird.
Argentines are such a social people, that they cannot imagine that anybody would ever want or even prefer to be by themselves. So right away she gets on the telephone to call her sister, Millie, in Cordoba to meet up with me before my connection to La Cumbre. I agreed, assuming that we would grab a cup of coffee somewhere so I could pump her for information about the Sierras. Wrong again. In case you haven´t noticed, I´m not the brightest star in the galaxy, so it takes me acouple of times to learn a lesson.
Lesson #2 Assume NOTHING. The only thing that is safe to assume in Argentina is that there is food there. Where you ask? Anywhere. You will never go hungry.
To make a long story short, what I thought would be an hour visit with family, turned into me staying the night in Cordoba. Why wouldn´t it? After telling Millie that I wanted to leave for La Cumbre that morning she told me she wanted to take me on a driving tour of the city. Of coarse I´m not going to pass up a tour from a local, so I agreed. Seven hours later, it actually happend.
When I tried to tell her that I didn´t want to stay the night, that I really wanted to get to La Cumbre so I could go hang gliding the next morning she said "But I wanted to take you to this really cool art museum!" Of coarse I´m going to pass up a really cool art museum. "Okay". After drinks and 3rd meal (Argentines have four meals a day), and after waiting for dude man to hang up her curtains, and after she took a shower and got ready, we headed out for the museum at 10 pm. I know what you are thinking. 10pm is a little late for a museum to be open, right? Well, this time, you are exactly right. Of coarse the freakin´museum is closed.
Crap. Now it´s too late to grab the last train to La Cumbre. crap. We heard some music coming from the coartyard of the museum so we went to check it out. As we were listening to a mediocre local rock band, Millie ran into a friend of hers, Ludmilla. I tried to listen to what they were talking about, and picked up about half. It sounded to me like she was trying to pawn me off on this poor girl. I was right. She turns to me and says "Ludmilla is going out with some friends of hers. Do you want to tag along?" Of coarse I do. The question is, does she? And furthermore, Really? I´ve been comprimising my solo adventure all day for it to end with you, pawning me off to this poor girl? Here we come to lesson #3.
Lesson #3 You can never be an inconvenience to an Argentine. They really are that genuinally nice. There is a whole other level of nice that, unfortunetely, doesn´t exist where I come from.
So far my solo adventure has been a little bit of a slow start. It´s nothing how I pictured it. But that´s how the real good adventures begin. My new friend, Ludmila takes me to her bosses house and we do a little prepartying (remember, anybody who is anybody doesn´t go out until 2 or 3am). Then we went to a nearby bar to meet up with her work friends, who were beyond nice and funny people. After trying acouple of the national drink of choice, fernet and coke, I was dancing, laughing and having a blast. It was like I had been friends with these people my whole life. And even better, Ludmila had given me the number of a friend of hers that lived in La Cumbre. "Someone to show you around" she said. Ludmila walked me to Lita´s house and we exchanged numbers. We departed like two best friends, giving each other promises of our next visit together.
The next morning, I had a bit of a late start, like most mornings after partying in Argentina. I finally got my things together and made the bus to La Cumbre. The weather had been cold and dreary so far, but nothing had prepared me for La Cumbre. I arrived to La Cumbre without the slightest idea of where I was going to stay or what I was going to do there. I stepped into the visitor´s center and got a recommendation for the best hostel that I´ve stayed in so far in Argentina. I settled into my dorm and immediately met a girl from Ireland, Deborah, and two girls from the United States, Adrienne and Allison.
I called Ludmila´s friend, Michele, then Deborah and I headed into town for a bite to eat. My phone died so, Unfortunetly, I never got to meet up with Michele. Despite some recent bad news Deborah had recieved, she was absolutely splendid to talk to. Due to the unfortunate weather, I didn´t get out much in La Cumbre. It didn´t matter much to me because I had great company.
The next day I tried to go horse back riding, but they cancelled the trip because of hail. Too bad. Oh, well. Nothing is ever perfect, but if you play your cards right, you can get pretty damn close.
"Sola? Pobre Kasey!"
I tried to explain to her "No pobre Kasey! I like to travel by myself. In fact, I enjoy it." I have finally learned that there is no Argentinian that will ever believe me.
Lesson #1 No one believes that you like to be alone. Stop saying it. They think you are weird.
Argentines are such a social people, that they cannot imagine that anybody would ever want or even prefer to be by themselves. So right away she gets on the telephone to call her sister, Millie, in Cordoba to meet up with me before my connection to La Cumbre. I agreed, assuming that we would grab a cup of coffee somewhere so I could pump her for information about the Sierras. Wrong again. In case you haven´t noticed, I´m not the brightest star in the galaxy, so it takes me acouple of times to learn a lesson.
Lesson #2 Assume NOTHING. The only thing that is safe to assume in Argentina is that there is food there. Where you ask? Anywhere. You will never go hungry.
To make a long story short, what I thought would be an hour visit with family, turned into me staying the night in Cordoba. Why wouldn´t it? After telling Millie that I wanted to leave for La Cumbre that morning she told me she wanted to take me on a driving tour of the city. Of coarse I´m not going to pass up a tour from a local, so I agreed. Seven hours later, it actually happend.
When I tried to tell her that I didn´t want to stay the night, that I really wanted to get to La Cumbre so I could go hang gliding the next morning she said "But I wanted to take you to this really cool art museum!" Of coarse I´m going to pass up a really cool art museum. "Okay". After drinks and 3rd meal (Argentines have four meals a day), and after waiting for dude man to hang up her curtains, and after she took a shower and got ready, we headed out for the museum at 10 pm. I know what you are thinking. 10pm is a little late for a museum to be open, right? Well, this time, you are exactly right. Of coarse the freakin´museum is closed.
Crap. Now it´s too late to grab the last train to La Cumbre. crap. We heard some music coming from the coartyard of the museum so we went to check it out. As we were listening to a mediocre local rock band, Millie ran into a friend of hers, Ludmilla. I tried to listen to what they were talking about, and picked up about half. It sounded to me like she was trying to pawn me off on this poor girl. I was right. She turns to me and says "Ludmilla is going out with some friends of hers. Do you want to tag along?" Of coarse I do. The question is, does she? And furthermore, Really? I´ve been comprimising my solo adventure all day for it to end with you, pawning me off to this poor girl? Here we come to lesson #3.
Lesson #3 You can never be an inconvenience to an Argentine. They really are that genuinally nice. There is a whole other level of nice that, unfortunetely, doesn´t exist where I come from.
So far my solo adventure has been a little bit of a slow start. It´s nothing how I pictured it. But that´s how the real good adventures begin. My new friend, Ludmila takes me to her bosses house and we do a little prepartying (remember, anybody who is anybody doesn´t go out until 2 or 3am). Then we went to a nearby bar to meet up with her work friends, who were beyond nice and funny people. After trying acouple of the national drink of choice, fernet and coke, I was dancing, laughing and having a blast. It was like I had been friends with these people my whole life. And even better, Ludmila had given me the number of a friend of hers that lived in La Cumbre. "Someone to show you around" she said. Ludmila walked me to Lita´s house and we exchanged numbers. We departed like two best friends, giving each other promises of our next visit together.
The next morning, I had a bit of a late start, like most mornings after partying in Argentina. I finally got my things together and made the bus to La Cumbre. The weather had been cold and dreary so far, but nothing had prepared me for La Cumbre. I arrived to La Cumbre without the slightest idea of where I was going to stay or what I was going to do there. I stepped into the visitor´s center and got a recommendation for the best hostel that I´ve stayed in so far in Argentina. I settled into my dorm and immediately met a girl from Ireland, Deborah, and two girls from the United States, Adrienne and Allison.
I called Ludmila´s friend, Michele, then Deborah and I headed into town for a bite to eat. My phone died so, Unfortunetly, I never got to meet up with Michele. Despite some recent bad news Deborah had recieved, she was absolutely splendid to talk to. Due to the unfortunate weather, I didn´t get out much in La Cumbre. It didn´t matter much to me because I had great company.
The next day I tried to go horse back riding, but they cancelled the trip because of hail. Too bad. Oh, well. Nothing is ever perfect, but if you play your cards right, you can get pretty damn close.
Monday, 14 April 2008
The Main Characters
top : Hernan and Eda bottom: all the ladies. Lita, Millie, Piera, Eda
How rude of me! I haven´t introduced the characters in my life right now. I will first start with the minor characters with a brief description, and then we will move on to the main characters with a longer description. Let´s get started.
Extended family
1) Hernan and Eda are Piera´s parents who live in Adelia Maria, a little town about an hour away from Vicuña Mackenna. My first asado was at their house. Everytime I see Hernan he makes a comment that always starts "Pobre Kasey..." He always assumes my quiet demeanor is a result of how homesick I am. Little does he know it´s because I can never understand a freakin´ word he says. I told him the day I can understand him, is the day I master the language. Eda talks nice and slow for me (like her older sister, Lita).
Extended family
1) Hernan and Eda are Piera´s parents who live in Adelia Maria, a little town about an hour away from Vicuña Mackenna. My first asado was at their house. Everytime I see Hernan he makes a comment that always starts "Pobre Kasey..." He always assumes my quiet demeanor is a result of how homesick I am. Little does he know it´s because I can never understand a freakin´ word he says. I told him the day I can understand him, is the day I master the language. Eda talks nice and slow for me (like her older sister, Lita).
2) Millie and Pancho are Piera´s brother and sister. Millie, the youngest, is a lawyer in Cordoba. She reminds me of a 19-year old girl that somehow became a successful lawyer. She´s fun. Pancho is a veternarian in Buenes Aires and speaks wonderful English.
*Hernan and Eda popped out quite a good lookin´ family.
*Hernan and Eda popped out quite a good lookin´ family.
3)Lita is my new BFF (read Cordoba adventure for her story).
Work related peeps
1) Cristina is my boss and absoulutely wonderful. I´ve never seen such a busy woman be so unorganized. She is currently helping her daughter plan a wedding, taking care of her hilariously wonderful mother, and bouncing back and forth from here to Buenes Aires (a 7 hour drive).
2) Raisa is another girl in my program from South Africa, who lives in Jovita.
3)Liz is another girl in my program from New Jersey, who lives in Missiones.
4) Mallory is another girl in my program from Florida, who lives in Rio Cuarto.
Work related peeps
1) Cristina is my boss and absoulutely wonderful. I´ve never seen such a busy woman be so unorganized. She is currently helping her daughter plan a wedding, taking care of her hilariously wonderful mother, and bouncing back and forth from here to Buenes Aires (a 7 hour drive).
2) Raisa is another girl in my program from South Africa, who lives in Jovita.
3)Liz is another girl in my program from New Jersey, who lives in Missiones.
4) Mallory is another girl in my program from Florida, who lives in Rio Cuarto.
Mis Padres
My Argentine mommy´s name is Piera. She is a tiny little thing with a heart of gold. She runs around the town like a chicken with her head cut off. Dropping the kids off or picking them up from their millions of activities is a feat in itself, but she also seems to have time for her own extra curricular activities and her own counseling business. She is like five people in one with the body mass of half a person. Whenever I need anything, however small it may be, she grabs one of her three cell phones and is on the new task. She is always worried about my well-being, and it´s not one of those fake worries. We actually have a weekly conversation on how my experience is coming along and how I feel about all the changes. It´s like she read a book on the emotional evolution of an exchange student. It really wouldn´t surprise me if she did. And if there isn´t a book dealing with these issues, I bet she is in the process of writing one... with all of that free time on her hands, of coarse. All I want to know is.... when does this woman sleep?
On to Gonzalo, my Argentine dad. Gonzalo is a big kid caught caught in a red neck´s body. He owns all the toys a grown up red neck dreams of; dirt bikes, tractors, 4-wheelers, trucks and trailers. He is constantly watching the racing channel on satelite, and drives like a bat out of hell. He is incredibly generous with everything he owns. He taught me how to drive a stick shift the first day I was here, so that I had a way to get to and from Vicuña Mackenna. He always has a smile on his face and is always joking around. He works (I think), but I don´t know exactly what he does all day. I think it is somewhat productive because he carries a briefcase around. Maybe it just doesn´t seem like he works because he doesn´t carry himself like a person who works. He is extremely helpful, almost too helpful. If you want to ask him a question, you need to allot about 30 minutes for the answer. He speaks a little English and it gets better and better every day. I have to keep reminding him that I am one here trying to learn a different language... not him.
I call my parents the tortoise and the hare. The tortoise being Gonzalo and the hare being Piera. They are the sweetest Argentine parents a girl could ask for.
On to Gonzalo, my Argentine dad. Gonzalo is a big kid caught caught in a red neck´s body. He owns all the toys a grown up red neck dreams of; dirt bikes, tractors, 4-wheelers, trucks and trailers. He is constantly watching the racing channel on satelite, and drives like a bat out of hell. He is incredibly generous with everything he owns. He taught me how to drive a stick shift the first day I was here, so that I had a way to get to and from Vicuña Mackenna. He always has a smile on his face and is always joking around. He works (I think), but I don´t know exactly what he does all day. I think it is somewhat productive because he carries a briefcase around. Maybe it just doesn´t seem like he works because he doesn´t carry himself like a person who works. He is extremely helpful, almost too helpful. If you want to ask him a question, you need to allot about 30 minutes for the answer. He speaks a little English and it gets better and better every day. I have to keep reminding him that I am one here trying to learn a different language... not him.
I call my parents the tortoise and the hare. The tortoise being Gonzalo and the hare being Piera. They are the sweetest Argentine parents a girl could ask for.
Thursday, 10 April 2008
Mis hermanos
I guess I should start with the eldest, Elina. This one is quite the pistol. She is too smart for her age and absorbs everything going on around her. Every conversation, every mannerism, every opinion, everything. With her very strong opinions, mostly regurgitated from overheard conversations, I often forget that she is a child. She is absolutely passionate and at times a tad too dramatic, even for a child. She has quite an impressive fake cry, though I can see straight through it. When it starts up i say "FAKE", under my breath. I don´t dare say it out loud, just in case she understands me. That´s how scared of her I am. She is the princess of the house, knows it, and knows how to use it to her advantage. You have got to watch out because she has a ridiculously good memory and has the ability to turn your words around on you. "Te mate!", she says with a smug smile and her index finger pointed accusingly in my direction (this directly translates to I killed you, which is slang for I am so right and you are so wrong). She loves the fact that I can't understand everything she says, which directly relates to my main motivation for wanting to learn Spanish. Some day, I want to kill her (not literally... you know what I mean). I hate to be outsmarted by a 9 year old girl.
On to the middle child, Luz, whose name means light in Spanish. Although I can´t quite recall what I was like as a child, I can imagine that I was EXACTLY like Luz. This child sleeps everywhere: at the dinner table, 30 seconds after a hard-core giggle fest, even on a dirt bike (no joke). I fell asleep at a New Kids on the Block concert once when I was 8, and I thought no one could ever beat that. Low and Behold.... Luz. Even for a child, she is too imaginative and easy going. She takes everything with a grain of salt, even her sister's sometimes over-demanding requests. She is slower than a snail and frankly does not give a crap. She spills a drink, gets her brand new birthday dress dirty, or drops all her cookies then shrugs her shoulders and moves on with her life. Sometimes I look at her and wonder where she is. What I wouldn't give to take a swim in that little brain of hers.
Despite the dramatic differences between these girls, they are equally a joy to be around. Variety is the spice of life, and these girls are SPICY.
On to the third child, Eliseo, or who I like to call "the screamer". This little tyke is creeping on the age of 2 and has quite an extensive vocabulary, although there are only a few words that are the staples. I like to think of it as it's own language, really.
tato=tractor Loo=Luz babu=dog dadoo=?
tita= coke Ina=Elina mama layla=? (i think he's a clapton fan)
pa=pan (bread) abu=abuela papa
There have been some additions since I've moved in. For one, he calls me totty, which sometimes sounds like titty or dotty. I taught him "hello" which he likes to yell up and down the hall, all day everyday. I am trying to teach him "bye-bye" now, but he is very selective about what he likes to say. My favorite word that I taught him happens to tie in with a funny story. One day Eliseo was playing a little too roughly with his fisher price piano so I took his hands into mine and I said "Gentle, Eliseo. Gentle". I let go and then demonstrated the proper way to play a fisher price piano. He looked at me with those big, confused eyes and yelled "GENTLE!" while simultaneously slamming his little hands on the piano. Now every time I say "gentle", he yells "GENTLE!" and proceeds to laugh histerically. Too cute.
On to the middle child, Luz, whose name means light in Spanish. Although I can´t quite recall what I was like as a child, I can imagine that I was EXACTLY like Luz. This child sleeps everywhere: at the dinner table, 30 seconds after a hard-core giggle fest, even on a dirt bike (no joke). I fell asleep at a New Kids on the Block concert once when I was 8, and I thought no one could ever beat that. Low and Behold.... Luz. Even for a child, she is too imaginative and easy going. She takes everything with a grain of salt, even her sister's sometimes over-demanding requests. She is slower than a snail and frankly does not give a crap. She spills a drink, gets her brand new birthday dress dirty, or drops all her cookies then shrugs her shoulders and moves on with her life. Sometimes I look at her and wonder where she is. What I wouldn't give to take a swim in that little brain of hers.
Despite the dramatic differences between these girls, they are equally a joy to be around. Variety is the spice of life, and these girls are SPICY.
On to the third child, Eliseo, or who I like to call "the screamer". This little tyke is creeping on the age of 2 and has quite an extensive vocabulary, although there are only a few words that are the staples. I like to think of it as it's own language, really.
tato=tractor Loo=Luz babu=dog dadoo=?
tita= coke Ina=Elina mama layla=? (i think he's a clapton fan)
pa=pan (bread) abu=abuela papa
There have been some additions since I've moved in. For one, he calls me totty, which sometimes sounds like titty or dotty. I taught him "hello" which he likes to yell up and down the hall, all day everyday. I am trying to teach him "bye-bye" now, but he is very selective about what he likes to say. My favorite word that I taught him happens to tie in with a funny story. One day Eliseo was playing a little too roughly with his fisher price piano so I took his hands into mine and I said "Gentle, Eliseo. Gentle". I let go and then demonstrated the proper way to play a fisher price piano. He looked at me with those big, confused eyes and yelled "GENTLE!" while simultaneously slamming his little hands on the piano. Now every time I say "gentle", he yells "GENTLE!" and proceeds to laugh histerically. Too cute.
Sunday, 30 March 2008
It´s a Conspiracy!
I can smell it. A conspiracy is in our midst! Everyone in this country is trying to make me fat. I know it. And then I started brainstorming. Why? Why would these sweet people want to do this to me? I came up with three reasons on why they are trying to fatten me up (and succeeding no less).
3. They are trying to look skinnier against my whale-like frame.
2. They want some sort of physical evidence that their food is truly, RICA.
... and (drum roll) the number one reason is...
1. They´re fattening me up for some kind of twisted hansel and grettel K-ASADO!
Looks like I better start a trail of bread.... before I eat the whole bagguette.
P.S. did you know mortadello is made of horse meat? I thought it was just fancy bologna.
3. They are trying to look skinnier against my whale-like frame.
2. They want some sort of physical evidence that their food is truly, RICA.
... and (drum roll) the number one reason is...
1. They´re fattening me up for some kind of twisted hansel and grettel K-ASADO!
Looks like I better start a trail of bread.... before I eat the whole bagguette.
P.S. did you know mortadello is made of horse meat? I thought it was just fancy bologna.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
.JPG)