Club-Lag

If it's "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise-" then I'm going to be sick, poor, and stupid.

On Saturday, some friends wanted to go to a club. So Rob and I basically slept all day in order to get ready, since the club scene here does not start until 2AM. (That's right. 2AM.) Here's how it went down:

12AM: Met at N.'s for a few drinks, waited for people to show up.

2AM: A few went to Pacha and we stayed behind waiting for S.

3AM: Text from people at Pacha- they are not getting in because the line is too long. We'll go to Ink instead.

3:30-ish? We take S. to her apartment so she can change and head over to Ink.

4AM: We're waiting in line at Ink to be let in. (It's the journey, not the destination....)

4:30AM: We finally get in. (That's right. We don't start the festivities until 4-frickin' THIRTY!)

4:30-7: Dancing, etc.

7AM: We all go to a café to have breakfast and watch the sun come up.

9AM: I finally get to sleep (because like a dumb-ass, I had coffee at breakfast.)

Sunday: Sleep all day.

O.K. Lessons from this? First, if we're going to go to a club, we need to pay in advance a bunch of money for a VIP table and not be humiliated by all the pretty people being let in ahead of us (Am I not skinny enough? What does she have that I don't..... etc.)

Second, I'm about ten years too old. Not just because the people at the club were probably about ten years younger than me (I'm 30 *ahem* something), but because it's taken me sooooo long to recover. It's Wednesday, and I'm just starting to feel normal. Club-Lag.


I'm sure I'll do it again, though, when I am overcome with the illusion that I am younger than I really am. It's all part of the time-shift that is Buenos Aires.

********* Update**********

After reading this post again, it seems a little cynical. But I actually did have a good time. Nicola gives another point of view on the same night here.

Out of Place....

I just got back from the local grocery store among the isles of dulce de leche (yum), bife de lomo, pollo milanesa, etc.

Where none of the employees speak a lick of English.

And yet...... Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" is playing on the speakers.

Funny.

Habla Castellano?

My Castellano is improving bit by bit, so that I can let my needs be known to people at the grocery store, laundry, etc. I can order food over the phone (kind of). I can also tell people where I am from, about my family, where I live, etc.

There are some phrases though, that I wish there were a phrasebook for:

1. I'd like a plain coffee, but put it in a large cup, and give me some milk (not steamed) on the side.
2. This phone jack doesn't work.
3. Does linen shrink?
4. Don't put the frozen pizza directly on the oven shelf.
5. Does this cleaner remove mildew?
6. Do any of your bras come in a D-cup? (The answer is usually no.)
7. No, thank you. Your food gave me diarrhea last time.
8. When I try to go to Gmail, the page comes up all gobbledy-gook (at the locutorio).
9. Please, do not cut my hair in a mullet.
10. Do you have this in a "fat-ass American" size, or only an "anorexic porteña" size?

I'm sure there are many more. Maybe I should write my own phrasebook,

Would you let me pack your parachute?

I met someone at a function tonight. She's from San Jose, but her parents are Argentine. So when she speaks to people here they assume she is a local because her accent is perfect. But she said that it was very difficult to make Argentine friends because she didn't go to school or grow up with them.

This is a pattern that I have heard repeated quite often- Argentines are warm, friendly people. But to make it into their inner circle, you have to be trusted. And whom do you trust? Family, and those you have grown up with.

It's understandable in a country that has gone through a military dictatorship and an economic collapse that trust would not be forthcoming. Even the government economic data cannot be trusted (Inflation 8%? give me a break. Everyone knows it's at least 20%.)

There's even a gesture here for mistrust: they take a finger and pull down the corner of their eye. It means roughly "you better watch out" or "keep an eye on that guy." We don't have that gesture in the U.S. Maybe trust is something I take for granted. I trust most people implicitly. I trust them until they show me they cannot be trusted.

I feel sorry for the Argentine-American who has trouble making friends here. I've made friends with other Americans, Brits, Irish, and Canadians in just a few weeks whom I trust completely. I'd let them pack my parachute.

And we didn't even grow up together.

What is it that makes us trust others?

Lessons from the Bidet

No it's not a sink. It's a bidet. The Argentines love their bidet, which is pretty novel to most Americans, I think.

A handy lesson:

The handles in the back on the outside run a mixture of hot and cold water down the bowl from the holes in the back. so you can face the bidet, turn on the water, and adjust it t suit your liking. Then you can turn around and sit down. The handle in the middle switches the stream to go up from the spray on the bottom.
After you are done "sprinkling" your nether-regions, it's important to turn the water back so that it runs from the back of the bowl again. That way, the next person who bends over to turn on the water doesn't get squirted in the face. I'm just saying.....

(This is just in case anyone who happens to share an apartment with me- I'm not naming names- reads this.)

Anti-Semitism Unmasked

From the BA Newcomers forum, a mailing list dedicated to helping ex-pats and other visitors to BsAs find housing, services, talk about common problems, etc:

Quote:

"Go back to the United Jews of America. Who asked you to usurp our country anyway."

All I can say is... Wow.

(The poster was put on moderated status and the pot was deleted from the archives. While I agree with moderating the poster, I think they should have kept this in the archives for the record.)

The Jewish population of Argentina, is the largest in Latin America and the sixth largest in the world.

Where's the @ at?

Twice now, I've been stuck in a locutorio trying to type an @ sign on a Spanish keyboard.They squish in three characters on one key! I see it next to the 2, but no combination of keys seems to coax it onto the screen. (You can click on the picture above to get a closer view.)

I don't feel so stupid, though, because Rob was with me once, and he couldn't figure it out either. (We ended up copying and pasting).

Beatbox Flute Sesame Street Theme

Am I French?

Yesterday, for the third time, I had a conversation that went something like this (in Spanish):

Me: How's that? Sorry, my Spanish isn't very good. I need to hear something twice before I understand.

Porteño: No problem. Where are you from? France?

France? This was the third time someone thought I was French, and I don't know why. It could be the way I speak- maybe my accent in Spanish sounds more like French than English. or perhaps I just look French. (What is a French look, anyway?) Maybe I do something French people do that I am not aware of. I was buying a bottle of wine, after all.

C'est la vie......

Buenos Aires Field Notes: Staying Connected

If you remember, back on DECEMER 22, I talked about our frustration with trying to get our internet connection worked on. Rob has been going to a local café when he has to (whose internet access is perfect when their electricity is on).

After a getting someone who speaks Spanish to help us (who is an angel), and the technicians somehow always showing up when the restaurant next door is closed, or not getting permission from them to be able to get on the roof, today, finally, they went on the roof and fiddled with the wires for fifteen minutes, and now it seems our connection is stable. Fibertel says it will improve even more if we can get an amplifier box, which will take an untold number of weeks...

Meanwhile, we also have installed DSL as a back-up. However, only two of the four phone jacks in our apartment are active, and unfortunately the one by the desk is not one of them. So if Rob has to switch over to DSL he has to stretch a phone cord and ethernet cable across the living room floor. Of course, to get the other phone jacks active will take several weeks....

Well, at least for now, we have a stable connection (one day and counting), and we have a back-up, which is a HUGE improvement. We can work, consistently, without having to go to a café.

If only we could get services delivered as easily as chinese food. Or ice cream. Or beer. Or meat. Or coffee.

Big Stuff. 72 visits this month!

I had 72 visits to my blog this month from 11 different countries. 56 were new visitors. Thanks, Google Analytics!

(O.K. I realize that some of the 72 visits must be my own. But still- it's more than I imagined.)

Buenos Aires Field Notes: Cultural Isolation

A lot of Argentines are proud about the legacy of their country being a “melting pot” similar to the U.S. in that the people in this city are largely descendants of immigrants- from Spain, Germany, Italy, Ireland, etc. But as Rob pointed out, it seems to be a melting pot that has long since congealed in a culture that is uniquely Porteño.

We were having dinner one night with a couple of guys from D.C. and Toronto who were vacationing here for a couple of weeks. We were at a Porteño restaurant ordering a variety of empanadas to share between us, when our friend from D.C. starts objecting loudly and intently, “No jamón y queso! Anything but jamón y queso! I am sick and tired of the f**king jamón and queso on everything!”

I know what he means. Ham and cheese comes on and in practically everything- the empanadas, pizza, rolled chicken breasts, breaded veal, you name it. The hundreds of local cafes have menus that are virtually identical, with ham and cheese centrally prominent. I suppose I have felt the same sense of frustration driving across the U.S., stopping at diners along the way, growing weary of hamburgers, milkshakes, and pigs in a blanket. But you wouldn’t expect it in the eighth largest city in the world.

I must admit, you can get more creative food here that borders on ethnic (it’s usually some version of “fusion”), if you spend more than twenty pesos per plate. But the popular culture, the local culture, exhibits a homogeneousness I wouldn’t have expected. And it doesn’t end at the lack of ethnic cuisine. There is a definite pressure to conform- most people under 40 all wear the same jeans, the same shoes, and cut their hair the same.

A friend I met from England who is ethnically Lebanese has exotic curly black locks that perfectly compliment her strikingly GORGEOUS face. At an asado (a family barbecue), the porteña women advised her about chemically straightening her hair. It seems that straight hair is in, whether it’s appropriate for you or not.

Buenos Aires may be a big city, but it definitely has become culturally isolated from the rest of the world. Maybe I’m spoiled from Living in Los Angeles and being able to get Ethiopian food if I want. But in California I’ve never been pressured to change my hair to fit the current style, or been stared at for the brand of shoes I wear. Perhaps it has something to do with the lack of products available from overseas due to the policy of high tariffs. Perhaps it’s because BsAs is Geographically isolated as well, and most people here (except the rich) have not traveled much.

Whatever the reason, it’s a unique blend of both the metropolitan and provincial.

Buenos Aires Field Notes: A Night Out

The Living is a little nightclub just a couple of blocks away from our apartment that is essentially a big lounge with couches and easy chairs to relax, talk, and groove to the 80's videos shown on the big screen in front of the lounge. Weekdays are pretty mellow with a 20s-30s crowd, with a mixture of locals and tourists. Everyone loves the 8os here- they regularly play Depeche Mode, early Police, etc.

The weekends become livelier as it turns into more of a dance club late in the evening (or morning, as it were). They also serve dinner (which we haven't tried).

It's a good time, just a couple of blocks away- another hidden gem, since you wouldn't even know that it exists given it has no sign out front, just a doorway and a staircase. We only found it through a tip by a local.

You know you're in a developing country when...

For all intents and purposes, Buenos Aires is like any other major world city. But there are a few reminders that it lags behind some of the other first-world cities:

1. Your water pressure disappears for no apparent reason. This has happened several times since we have been here. Once in a while, we have to take a cold shower with trickling water. We were worried this was a problem with the building, but yesterday I discovered that the café couldn't make any coffee and the laundry couldn't do any laundry either.

2. Dog poop falls from the sky. I was walking to the laundry when I saw some dog poop fall from the sky into the street. I think someone was sweeping their balcony.

3. Cigarettes can be bought individually. An interesting economic indicator that reminds me that goods are not in abundance here. People have very little money, and goods are sold in smaller portions.

4. Electricity outages are expected..... supposedly, there are occasional blackouts every summer. Haven't experienced one of these yet, but it's still early.

Christmas

It feels more like the fourth of July than Christmas. On Christmas eve, starting around 11PM, there were fireworks booming through the night. I could here the children in the apartment above romping around at 2AM. I guess Santa doesn't mind.

Christmas Day was warm, and everything was closed during the day, while people have asados (barbecues) at home. Some restaurants opened up for dinner in the evening, and the streets livened up a little with people out for evening walks.

Overall, it was a mellow holiday, a quiet day at home for us. An Eddie Murphy marathon was on TV (dubbed though, not subtitled), and an improvised home-cooked dinner.

Feliz Navidad!

Frustration

Our internet connection has been a little flaky, so we called a technician in to fix the problem. The chronicle so far goes like this:

1. A technician comes out and says our signal is low, and the problem is with the wiring on the roof. But to get to the roof, he needs to go through the restaurant next door, which is closed. Someone will come mañana. Fine.

2. No one shows up the next day. When I call, we have an appointment scheduled for the next day. Fine.

3. The next technician shows up (two hours earlier than his scheduled appointment) and says our signal is low and the problem is with the wiring on the roof. (Yes, I know.) After half an hour of waiting to talk to someone next door, he finally informs us that he can't get to the roof because they just re-did the floor in the restaurant and no one can walk on it. We need to call back and have someone come again in two days.

4. The next technician shows up (three hours earlier than his scheduled appointment) and says that he knows what the problem is because he is the technician that serviced the restaurant next door. We need an amplifier, but he is not the person who installs them. We need to call and ask for a different department to install the amplifier.

5. I call the service provider, but can't communicate what we need because my Spanish is too poor. She is asking for the administrator of the building (we don't have one) and a bunch of other stuff I don't understand.

Our next step is to get someone who speaks Castellano to help us negotiate this . . .

Hey, I know..... Let's change all the clocks!

Surprise! The government announced yesterday that Argentina will be going on Daylight Savings time starting Dec. 30, turning the clocks forward an hour. That's a whole week's notice for the country!

Link to the article in the Buenos Aires Herald

Watch Out, NASCAR, Here comes... Formula 7!

Auto racing is alive and well in Buenos Aires. Here's a glimpse:

The driver being interviewed and ready to race...


And here's what he's driving!

Here's a video of part of the race.

Field Notes Buenos Aires: Safety

One of the biggest warnings we heard before we came to Buenos Aires was: be careful. Keep a close hold on your purse. Call a taxi rather than hail a random one. Make sure you are not followed after using the ATM. Etc., etc.

Yes, it's true. There is a lot of petty crime here in Buenos Aires (and some violent crime as well), and possibly more than in some big cities because the recent economic collapse has created more desperate people. It is wise to be careful. But not enjoyable to be paranoid.

Paranoia can slip in easily in an unfamiliar city, especially when you don't understand what people are saying around you, and you don't know what the signals are that let you know you are in danger. Strange noises keep you awake at night, and your heart will start racing when walking after dark. We are afraid of the unknown.

As I have become more familiar with the area I live in, the paranoia has started to subside. Yes, I watch my purse. But I also notice how many parents are walking with their children, how many women are comfortable walking alone, how the delivery guys at the restaurant next door recognize me and say hello.

Looked at with a wide-angle lens, it is a big, scary city. But zoom in closer, and it is a collection of neighborhoods, each one its own community. The neighborhood I live in is one of the safest. The longer I live here, the chances are greater that someone might steal my purse, and the truth is, as long as I don't carry credit cards with me, they will get about $300 U.S. But as long as I don't do anything stupid, I don't fear for my physical safety.

There's a balance between being aware enough to feel safe without feeling paranoid, and I'm starting to strike the balance.

Buenos Aires Field Notes: Little salt, please?

I think we discovered the mystery to Rob's fainting. The clues were these:

1) I see a lot of people (especially on hot days) drinking this stuff , which looks like soda, through a straw. I thought it was soda, in fact, because so many people drink that too. Coca-Cola in bottles is very popular here. Then, in the grocery store, by the Gatorade, I noticed it-- water with electrolytes added. Aha!

2) People liberally salt everything. In a café, you typically have a salt-shaker on the table, but no pepper. And when everyone gets their food, the first thing they do is pour salt over everything. I thought this was a little weird.... until....

3) Rob's acquaintance (an Irishman met in the same ex-pat bar), asks him if he's getting enough salt. That's the medical advice he got when he first arrived and wasn't feeling well.

4) We're sweating. A lot. I'm not a very sweaty person, and on a normal day without a lot of exertion, my blouses are wet under the arms. Imagine how much water we are losing through evaporation that we don't notice.

So. I bought the water + electrolyte stuff at the store (which costs 1/2 the price of Gatorade because it is made in-country), and after we each gulped down a bottle, we felt like we had more energy than we had had since we arrived. And Rob hasn't fainted or felt light-headed since. We had already been drinking water, but I guess it wasn't quite enough.

Lesson learned. Don't take salt for granted. Yes, you can have too much, but you can also have too little.