Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Recuerdos?
Another older entry I found, from the first part of the trip. It's funny looking back on everything now, from this vantage point almost-at-the-end. Have we changed? That remains to be seen, I'm my money is on yes.
Taking a break from my mountain of homework for class tomorrow to indulge in English. Yes, ENGLISH. After three weeks of homework completely in my secondary language, English has been transformed into something of a luxury: in class, a forbidden but often necessary vice, our gringa indicating index and my somewhat ugly-sounding mother tongue. Ah, the ease of being able to write something in English! The constant flow from brain to fingertips, the electrodes snapping in synergetic harmony to the rhythm of fluent speech—I’m terribly jealous of the bilingual and trilingual, and the simplicity with which they dance between languages.
So much is happening all the time, yet upon reflection it seems like the de rigueur for life here: a constant adventure. My journal is filling up with random accounts of the more colorful aspects of life here, documenting my battle with the waves of nostalgia I feel after dreams of palm trees and Manhattan. In my room with the view of the ocean stretching forever forward, the same color as Chilean lapis lazuli (a sidenote: Chile and Afghanistan are the only countries in the world that can boast large deposits of this beautiful blue stone)—I just wish for home and for what I consider to be normality. Even ordering coffee here is a nightmare.
But despite all of my griping, I still love it here and I’m learning with much more fluidity than I thought I would. I went out to Valparaiso with El Colombiano, and we spent the night waxing poetic in a small jazz bar (where the median age was well over 60), and two old, drunk former merchant marines complimented me on my Spanish, even for being a gringa. It’s a marvelous thing to realize that you can express your ardent beliefs on leftist politics in another language, albeit haltingly (another sidenote: Mark would be proud).
It ends rather abruptly, probably as I realize how much homework I have to get done. But isn't that sort of a metaphor for life?
Another older entry I found, from the first part of the trip. It's funny looking back on everything now, from this vantage point almost-at-the-end. Have we changed? That remains to be seen, I'm my money is on yes.
Taking a break from my mountain of homework for class tomorrow to indulge in English. Yes, ENGLISH. After three weeks of homework completely in my secondary language, English has been transformed into something of a luxury: in class, a forbidden but often necessary vice, our gringa indicating index and my somewhat ugly-sounding mother tongue. Ah, the ease of being able to write something in English! The constant flow from brain to fingertips, the electrodes snapping in synergetic harmony to the rhythm of fluent speech—I’m terribly jealous of the bilingual and trilingual, and the simplicity with which they dance between languages.
So much is happening all the time, yet upon reflection it seems like the de rigueur for life here: a constant adventure. My journal is filling up with random accounts of the more colorful aspects of life here, documenting my battle with the waves of nostalgia I feel after dreams of palm trees and Manhattan. In my room with the view of the ocean stretching forever forward, the same color as Chilean lapis lazuli (a sidenote: Chile and Afghanistan are the only countries in the world that can boast large deposits of this beautiful blue stone)—I just wish for home and for what I consider to be normality. Even ordering coffee here is a nightmare.
But despite all of my griping, I still love it here and I’m learning with much more fluidity than I thought I would. I went out to Valparaiso with El Colombiano, and we spent the night waxing poetic in a small jazz bar (where the median age was well over 60), and two old, drunk former merchant marines complimented me on my Spanish, even for being a gringa. It’s a marvelous thing to realize that you can express your ardent beliefs on leftist politics in another language, albeit haltingly (another sidenote: Mark would be proud).
It ends rather abruptly, probably as I realize how much homework I have to get done. But isn't that sort of a metaphor for life?
Friday, November 03, 2006
disfrutar:
Spanish, I verbo intransitivo
1 (gozar, pasarlo bien) to enjoy oneself
It´s our last night in Buenos Aires, and I finally got up from a long nap, shaking off sleep at 9 in the evening, belly still faintly aching from the tenedor libre (all you can eat) lunch Lilia, Alicia and I had stumbled upon. We had nixed Uruguay in favor of a cheaper time in Buenos Aires, and found ourselves with 3 extra days to wander around the city of Good Airs and enjoy the sweetness of the springtime here. Everything feels different in Argentina, almost like you´re in an entirely different continent. The stoic reserve of the Chilean character is a joke here, as the amorous and friendly Argentinians sweep you into their genial embrace of "Che! Que bonita es la vida!". The plazas and the architecture conjure images of Europe, erasing the bloody and violent history of the South American colonial conquest. The cobblestone streets of San Telmo would be completely ordinary in Paris, and seem a universe away from the dusty roads we traveled in Perú.
I ended up spending entirely too much money here, but our motto of the trip has been ENJOY THE NOW, or translated into Spanish, DISFRUTARLO! We splurged and bought tickets to a proper fútbol match, between La Boca and Racing Club, two of the biggest soccer teams in Argentina. La Boca is a poorer, working class neighborhood situated at the mouth of the river in Buenos Aires, and fans of La Boca´s soccer team are renowned for their fierce displays of pride. We had heard rumors of the La Boca stadium going up in flames after one particular match, leading to a battallion of riot police being stationed at every subsequent match. At this game, the fans were more well-behaved, perhaps in part because of the policia´s night sticks and riot gear. But that didn´t mean that the fans lacked spirit or vigor...imagine a stadium filled with 40,000 fútbol fans, each cheering and jumping and waving flags in favor of their team. Truly memorable.
Last night, we decided to properly go out and enjoy the famous Buenos Aires nightlife. This meant taking a nap after dinner (which was homemade guacamole we had concocted in the hostel kitchen) until 12, opening a bottle of whiskey and drinking together until 1, then hopping into a cab and arriving at the club around 2, when things start to get interesting. Some fellow Americans had recommended this club in Palermo, which was smoky and filled with twisting bodies, a transvestite dance show, and the requisite fashionable Argentinians. It felt like only a few hours, but when we finally emerged from the smoky clamor the sun was coming up and the city was finally going home. We enjoyed the sunrise from the terrace of the hostel, finding sleep and rest around 7 in the morning. Disfrutarlo!
Tonight, I think we´re all too tired to pull another all-nighter, but I´m sure we´ll find some way to enjoy the nighttime, which is only now starting to come alive, and make the most of our last night here. Going back to Chile means school, tightening the budget and eventually saying goodbye as our last month in Viña draws near. Until then, we tell ourselves to live entirely in the moment, abandoning doubts to enjoy what we have all around us, the warm air and the cobblestone streets, the city of Good Airs shaking off the day and coming back to life this Friday night.
Spanish, I verbo intransitivo
1 (gozar, pasarlo bien) to enjoy oneself
It´s our last night in Buenos Aires, and I finally got up from a long nap, shaking off sleep at 9 in the evening, belly still faintly aching from the tenedor libre (all you can eat) lunch Lilia, Alicia and I had stumbled upon. We had nixed Uruguay in favor of a cheaper time in Buenos Aires, and found ourselves with 3 extra days to wander around the city of Good Airs and enjoy the sweetness of the springtime here. Everything feels different in Argentina, almost like you´re in an entirely different continent. The stoic reserve of the Chilean character is a joke here, as the amorous and friendly Argentinians sweep you into their genial embrace of "Che! Que bonita es la vida!". The plazas and the architecture conjure images of Europe, erasing the bloody and violent history of the South American colonial conquest. The cobblestone streets of San Telmo would be completely ordinary in Paris, and seem a universe away from the dusty roads we traveled in Perú.
I ended up spending entirely too much money here, but our motto of the trip has been ENJOY THE NOW, or translated into Spanish, DISFRUTARLO! We splurged and bought tickets to a proper fútbol match, between La Boca and Racing Club, two of the biggest soccer teams in Argentina. La Boca is a poorer, working class neighborhood situated at the mouth of the river in Buenos Aires, and fans of La Boca´s soccer team are renowned for their fierce displays of pride. We had heard rumors of the La Boca stadium going up in flames after one particular match, leading to a battallion of riot police being stationed at every subsequent match. At this game, the fans were more well-behaved, perhaps in part because of the policia´s night sticks and riot gear. But that didn´t mean that the fans lacked spirit or vigor...imagine a stadium filled with 40,000 fútbol fans, each cheering and jumping and waving flags in favor of their team. Truly memorable.
Last night, we decided to properly go out and enjoy the famous Buenos Aires nightlife. This meant taking a nap after dinner (which was homemade guacamole we had concocted in the hostel kitchen) until 12, opening a bottle of whiskey and drinking together until 1, then hopping into a cab and arriving at the club around 2, when things start to get interesting. Some fellow Americans had recommended this club in Palermo, which was smoky and filled with twisting bodies, a transvestite dance show, and the requisite fashionable Argentinians. It felt like only a few hours, but when we finally emerged from the smoky clamor the sun was coming up and the city was finally going home. We enjoyed the sunrise from the terrace of the hostel, finding sleep and rest around 7 in the morning. Disfrutarlo!
Tonight, I think we´re all too tired to pull another all-nighter, but I´m sure we´ll find some way to enjoy the nighttime, which is only now starting to come alive, and make the most of our last night here. Going back to Chile means school, tightening the budget and eventually saying goodbye as our last month in Viña draws near. Until then, we tell ourselves to live entirely in the moment, abandoning doubts to enjoy what we have all around us, the warm air and the cobblestone streets, the city of Good Airs shaking off the day and coming back to life this Friday night.
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