Mi vida!

Well, Coco the kitty is a eunuch. And there was great rejoicing.

I've been really busy this month! I teach with 4 institutes, and run all around the city. I have a couple of groups of friends, and I bounce back and forth from one group to another. I am involved in "inter-cambios," or language exchanges. "Your Spanish for My English." They have been really interesting and some people just want to speak in English, to practice. Really, sometimes I just want to speak in English. It's difficult, because I want to practice my Spanish, but I just get this feeling that someone new won't really get a sense of who I am if I'm just saying "Uno mas vez, por favor" over and over again. So it depends on the person I'm talking to, and what I'm trying to say, but my first language exchange friend, Sandra, says that I'm improving.

I met a boy, Nicolas, in a bar close to one of my schools for an exchange. We got along really well, and he was really helpful. He asked me if I had a piece of paper and a pencil, because it would be helpful if I took notes. I had my giant tote bag that I lug around on days that I teach, and started pawing through it. I took out my umbrella, my "Learn Spanish" book from the 60's, sunglasses, a scarf, and at last... a wedge of cheese. I had bought it a couple of hours before, intending that it accompany my dinner, but had forgotten about it entirely. Nicolas watched without comment, but raised an eyebrow at the cheese. "In case of emergency?" I attempted.

Earlier that day, even earlier than when I bought said cheese, I was riding my bike to the Subte for work. I was forced to stop a couple of blocks away, because the train was parked right on the tracks, blocking traffic. This was odd-- the train either parks at the station or passes through, but never directly blocks traffic. I rode up, thinking that something minor was wrong, and the train would continue on it's way shortly. Then I noticed that there was something in the road. Looked like splattered fruit, and my mind convinced me quickly that someone had been carrying fruit and had been startled by the stopped train. It looked just like that... like someone had a bunch of pomegranates, and had dropped them suddenly. The fruit trailed to the tracks, however, and I noticed that there were police on the train. I was almost sick. Someone or something had been hit. It was splattered all over the tracks, the train, pieces in the road... "Suicides," Muriel has told me. "They happen once or twice a month." The image keeps popping into my head. I guess train conductors have to get special counseling, because it is such a common occurence. What an awful way to die. I know that some people here are in dire straits, but... what a simply awful way to die. I don't think I will ever forget that sight.

In less morbid news, I bought myself a mate! I'm pretty pleased with it, it's beautiful. "Una linda mate," I've been told. It has to be cured, so it's sitting downstairs with wet tea leaves inside, and it will continue to do so for about three days. Then I will attempt to make mate! The steps are simple, but precise. Pour hot water, let the leaves absorb it, more hot water...

I've also baked bread. I met another guy for a language exchange (funny how all men answered my post for an intercambio, isn't it?), and had just stopped by Barrio Chino to pick up some peanut butter. So Pablo noticed that I had peanut butter in my purse, and inquired about it. (It's a magical purse. Wedges of cheese, peanut butter, umbrellas... you never know what you'll find.) I told him I bought peanut butter for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and offered him one, if he had bread. He said "I don't have bread, but we can make some!" I think I probably looked pretty incredulous, but we did in fact make our bread. I learned that "masa" is dough, and "horno" is oven. PB&Js may never taste the same again, after having them on homemade, fresh from the oven bread!

I've realized, the only food that I can think of that is truly American is a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich. It's capitalized to show the importance. Hot dogs are sold in shops throughout the city, and there are stands right next to the Choripan stands. Hamburgers are delicious here, and my favorite, a hamburguesa completa, is a hamburger with ham, egg, lettuce, tomato and cheese. When I treated myself to a buffet in my second week here (PS, it's the only thing you really shouldn't do alone in any country. People look at you strangely), I had potato salad and onion rings along with my meal. But lots of Argentines that I've met have only tasted peanut butter once, and have never had it in sandwich form. "What do you do with it?" Pablo asked after the initial peanut butter purse discovery. And I never really sought out peanut butter, but now that it's a rarity, I can't get enough of it. Of course, I prefer it straight from the jar with the addition of dulce de leche, but that's my spin on it.

I've been riding my bike to Palermo, a nearby neighborhood where I teach 4 times a week. "Wear a hat," my administrator has told me. "Hide your blond hair." "Am I blonde?" I asked her in return. Last I checked, the sun had faded my beautiful fake chestnut hair to a light copper. "You're blond enough," she said. "Light brown is blond, red heads are blond... just don't give them an incentive when you're stopped on your bike." I took the advice to heart, and wore a hat the next time I rode to class. (OK, it was actually a cold day, and I was planning on wearing a hat anyways, but I did think about what she'd said while I put it on, which counts in my book.) As I rode by one bus stop, a bunch of men put out their hands to flag the bus. I was wearing headphones, so I looked around quickly to see if the bus was right behind me, going to crash into me, etc. It wasn't. There was no bus around. The men were trying to flag me for a ride. Then, as I was walking to class, two teenagers giggled at me and muttered "Rubia" under their breath.

I'm going to start going to more museums and events on the weekends. There is a whole page dedicated to free events in Buenos Aires, and I intend on making good use of it! I saw a circus act in the center of the city, in the middle of the street! The stage was set up behind a stop-light, and it continued to blink red, yellow and green all throughout the show. It was a really fun show, with a trapeze act, juggling, flips...and free. I really like free. I returned home from meeting with friends, and Muriel asked me how it went. "Well...the bar had free pizza," I said. She laughed. "I asked you how it went, and you respond with free pizza. You sound like an Argentine boy!"

June 16th will be my 3 month mark. And I've decided: I'm staying here until February of next year. 8 more months in South America. Sometimes I forget just how far away from the United States I am!