Boys, Bars, Buses, Banks, Bombs and Books

I'm broke. There's another "B" that I've been experiencing in Buenos Aires. I get paid soon, but have to run around the city to 3 different schools in order to get my money. So I've got to sit down and manage my schedule---take the bus, Subte and train to get from one part of town to the next, in addition to getting to my various regular classes. Whew. This is how it is, in the beginning, I'm told. It will get easier?

Boys. The lines they give me are really just the most ridiculous things I've ever heard. All of them! One boy came up to me at the bar and after trying to talk to me, called me "Rude" and "Cold." He said "You're one tough nut." My friend walked up and asked what was going on, and I told her, "Well, I have just been told that I'm rude!" The boy laughed and said "No, but in the best way." So I'm rude in the best way, I guess? I don't even know what that means. But he didn't leave, and continued trying to talk to me, so I'm assuming that he was trying to tell me I was being coy. I wasn't.

One friend of mine pretends that she doesn't speak English when the boys talk to her. She answers "Iceland" when asked where she is from. A boy tagged along with me for about half an hour, totally ignoring the hints that I was sending not so subtly. Finally, he worked up the courage and asked me "Tenes un novio?" "Si," I replied with a smile. "Cinco." He looked confused for a moment. "But..." he started in English, "I am asking if you have a boyfriend?" "Si," I said again, nodding emphatically. "Cinco novios." He looked stunned, stared at me for a second, and then, in all seriousness told me "I....would like to be number 6." I had to laugh. Now that is tenacity.

I am not usually one to dance, but I've been in the mood, lately. It's pretty much impossible to dance in the clubs, though. I accidentally started a fight between two boys who both wanted to dance with me. "You should be flattered," a girl told me, watching it unfold. "Buenos Aires boys are so apathetic." I couldn't tell if she was being serious or sarcastic, but I responded, "I don't want either of them! I just want to dance!" But you have to choose a dance partner in the clubs, there is no "just dancing." I think I'll be sticking to regular bars from now on. It's just not worth it... you end up in a territorial battle in the middle of the dance floor.

I'm starting to understand the bus system...which is another way of saying there is no understanding the bus system. There is no schedule, but buses are supposed to come to the stops every twenty minutes. I do say supposed to. Some buses are much more reliable than others. People will wait for a bus, and you can see them becoming frustrated, checking their watches, sighing heavily... some give up and take cabs, muttering under their breaths as they hop in the doors. I became irrationally attached to the bus line that took me out of La Boca, which is number 29. This seems to be one of the least reliable bus lines, though. I have waited at a stop for half an hour, had to text the school that I was supposed to be teaching for "I'm going to be late, I'm sorry!"... and because of the broke part, the option of just hopping into a taxi instead of waiting for the bus isn't realistic for me. On one hand, its nice because it forces me to experience the porteno way of life. On the other, I'm late to everything. I decided to branch out and try new bus lines. I waited at the bus stop for 130, pleased with myself for figuring out another bus that would get me to my neighborhood. After half an hours wait, the 29 pulled up to the stop. It's reliably unreliable, I guess. I gave up and took the 29 home.


Banks. Oh, banks in any country don't seem to really want to give you your money. I have some money floating between Tucson and Buenos Aires, and I can't get it. A bank representative from the States had told me "It's much easier to send your money to an account in Buenos Aires-- you pay less of a fee. Just walk into the bank, hand them your passport and tell them a special PIN, and you will receive your money." Sounds easy, right? Right?? Ha. I walked into the bank, took a number, stood in line to talk to a banker, and when my number was called, and I spoke haltingly in Spanglish, the banker told me I was in the wrong line, and sent me downstairs. Ok. I went downstairs, practicing how to say "I'm from the US, I want to open an account, here is my number" in my head. My turn-- I walked up to the teller and told her all of this in my best Spanish (which, as everyone should know by now, is a work in progress. The very beginning of a work in progress...), and she typed some things on the computer, called another banker over, they talked in hushed Spanish, he called a third banker over who told me, in short, "You can't have your money. You need to be a resident. You can transfer the money to a resident, or you can wait a week and the money will come back to your account." Wonderful. That was the money that I was going to live off of for the next week, until I got paid. Sitting around, hanging out somewhere between the two countries. Taunting me. Odio a todos los bancos.

My roommate is starting something up with other people from our neighborhood, and I am a part of it. We are going to bomb other lots, I think. After seed-bombing the unused plot of land, we all went back to the area to spray paint the wall surrounding it. With reds, greens, yellows purples and blues, we painted the brick wall to show other people that there was something growing there. It's the beginning of something larger. I am an outsider, but it's really great to be a part of something like this. We looked like punks to those passing by, standing around with our spray cans, but we are... punks for a cause, I guess. I'm still not sure if the seeds are growing, the lot is so full of weeds and other plants. But I hope so. I have what I call a "black-thumb," so tending to these seeds will be another challenge for me. I'm ready. I mean, I'm facing down spiders on a daily basis, cooking pretty often, so learning to nurture seedlings is next on my list, I guess!

My Spanish is coming along, pero poco a poco. I bought a Spanish verbs book, and my personal goal is one verb per day. I understand clips and phrases when people speak to me. Hanging out with Spanish speakers is either funny or an ordeal, because we mutually get frustrated at the lack of communication. My students laugh when I tell them this. "So you know what it's like, then!" They crow. "It's not easy!" It's really not, but it's all part of the experience. When I actually do break out of my shell for a moment and attempt Spanish, people guess that I've been here for six months instead of two. Which is sweet and all, but I just wish I was fluent already. But... its another goal. My first two I accomplished in my first two weeks here-- get a job and find a home. Now that those are settled, I am directing my attention to Spanish. I have a Spanish girly magazine that I'm trying to read, but I have to look up every other word. I have to force myself to read it sometimes--I feel like a little kid, getting distracted by the pretty pictures and ignoring the articles. It's fun, just candy and superficial, what make-up to wear, what clothes to buy, trendy restaurants and cafes. One picture is of a Starbucks whipped cream drink, and the caption says "Classic Porteno: No lo tiene ningun otro pais... Estamos hablando del Dulce de Leche Frappucino..."