A week in Buenos Aires

How am I supposed to capture all of the things that have happened to me since my last entry?  I'll do my best.

First things first: the hostel situation.  During drinks with my new expat friends, I noticed some small red bumps on my hand.  I wasn't sure, I thought perhaps they were spider bites, but one well seasoned traveler told me they could be the work of bed bugs.  Once back in Hostel Sol, I talked to several people who had stayed in the same bed in my room before I had arrived. They, too, had all had these bites, all over their bodies.  The hostel's solution to the complaints of bites was to simply change our rooms.  Once this had taken place, they rented the buggy rooms to someone else. One French girl told me that the owner had taken her to the hospital because the bugs had bitten her all over, and it had become painful for her to walk.  Hearing this news, and experiencing firsthand that the bumps continued to spread after the room switch, I decided to talk to the owner as well.  He refused to see me, and sent a go between, who stated "Daniel is very busy."  The owner wrote directions to the nearest public hospital, and told the hostel employee to basically shoo me away. 

I asked a Canadian boy to accompany me, and he complied.  We went to the public hospital in La Boca, a more rundown side of town with a lot of character.  After signing in, I waited in line for 3 hours.  I was frightened, and I don't do well in hospitals.  My breath quickened, I felt dizzy, I had to sit down because I felt faint.  This didn't surprise me... I'm a bit of a fainter.  The Canadian boy, seeing how long the wait would be, decided that he had better things to do than watch a silly American girl quibble about bug bites.  He kissed me a quick "Chau" on the cheek, and left.  I don't blame him--with a city so full of life, sitting in a hospital with someone who is less than friendly (I was too busy freaking out to be friendly) would be a chore for anyone. 

The doctor took one look at me and decided that the bumps weren't bites, and were instead an allergic reaction.  She spoke minimal English, and I speak less than minimal Spanish.  I tried to tell her that I wasn't the first girl in the hostel to exhibit these symptoms, but she scribbled an anti-allergy prescription for me and sent me on my way. 

Needless to say, I changed hostels.  I am now staying in the Carlos Gardel Hostel in San Telmo (I had thought my previous hostel was also in San Telmo, but it was actually in San Cristobal, not the best area in town....there was a relatively large brothel 2 houses down from Hostel Sol...lovely!).  This hostel is clean, the showers are hot and don't just dribble, and the people are helpful and informative.  I bought a house bug spray that a local man helped me pick out, and have sprayed everything I own twice over.  I've had a couple more bites, which means the bugs followed me, but soon I'll have a house with a washer to take care of the leftover fleas.  (A girl from the hostel saw me eating in a restaurant and stopped in to tell me that the bugs were actually fleas, and that eventually there had been so many complaints that the hostel was forced to spray and sanitize the whole room--hurray!) 

I started house hunting as soon as I arrived.  I saw a handful of places, and met some really interesting people.  One lady told me immediately that she wanted me to move in with her, but unfortunately she wasn't renting her room until later on in the month. I tried my first mate with her--mate is a very strong tea that Buenos Aireians drink at all times of the day, hot or cold.  Traditionally it is hot, and served in an open thermos/cup with a thin straw built into it.  The mate I tried was made with lemon peel to alleviate the bitter taste--some Argentines make it with honey or orange peel, among other things.

I accompanied the landlord to a Tango Hall, where people can come to dance with one another and show off their tango moves.  She loved the dance, and told me that she had a "natural talent" for it.  Several elderly men asked me to dance, but I smiled, shook my head and pointed at my shoes.  One just can't dance the tango in flip flops.  All of the women had on strappy heels, which I guess is the traditional tango shoe.  Several women also had colorful fans that they waved.  The woman who I was with told me that these were also a tradition with the dance.  I have yet to see an actual tango, where the dancers wear costumes, but seeing as I am staying in the tango district for another couple of days, I feel certain that I will. 

The house that I have finally decided on is exactly what I wanted.  It is a place in Belgrano, a slightly more upscale area of town.  The girl renting the room is my age, she is ambitious and bubbly.  A documentary maker, a musician, a gardener, and a photographer, to start.  She showed me around, and the place was HUGE!  Giant kitchen, huge living room with 2 comfortable looking couches.  The room itself is set apart from the rest of the house--stairs lead up to the door, there is a private bathroom attached to the room, as well as cable and wifi available.  And....Muriel, my new roommate, has a cat!  I'm excited to move there and explore the neighborhood.  The street was lined with trees and was bright.  Everyone was friendly, and when I asked a man on the street where the address was, he knew it instantly and said "Muriel! She's great!"  There are lots of little shops walking distance from the house, and the Chinese district is right around the corner. 

Getting around is pretty easy here in Buenos Aires.  There is a subway system called the "Subte" that will take you all over the city,  over one hundred bus lines that run all over and well into the night, and taxis.  The taxis are very cheap, but the driving is out of control!  Drivers weave all over the roads, ignoring lanes, and honk constantly.  One taxi that I was riding in was clipped by another car, and the driver spent every red light attempting to fix the side mirror that was dangling as a result. 

Blocks are all in increments of a hundred, here, and all of the numbers in the address increase the nearer that the streets get to the major highway, and decrease as they head away from it.  That's 9 de Julio, and it is the widest street in the world.  Nine lanes wide!  Crossing that street and others involves running and  cars honking, and you start to get the feeling that the drivers really wouldn't mind hitting you, as long as they get to where they're going on time. 

I have met so many people, there is no way to describe all of them, but as a broad overview, people have been so nice to me here.  An American that I met just by hearing him curse with an American accent helped me decide on a new hostel, and move my two giant suitcases there.  A porteno ( that's basically city boy, a term used just for Buenos Aireians) has taken me out for drinks, told me which bug spray to get, and has invited me to an asado in the future (an asado is an Argentine BBQ... meat cooked on coals.  Count me IN!)  An Argentine woman dating an expat offered me a class to teach, and paid for the taxi I took to get there in addition to my class (a conversation class--my first teaching experience... terrifying, exhilirating...).  A Chilean boy asked me to take a tour of the city with him, and it was my first glimpse at some of the neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. 

What a city!  I'm already starting to fall in love with it, and I feel like I haven't even really experienced it yet!