Dinner and a movie

For the past two Tuesdays, Mariana (host mom) and I have gone to the movies and then out to dinner. Last week we saw Paris, J t’aime, which is a series of vignettes which are love stories that take place in Paris. Then, we went to a Spanish restaurant, which was ok. The wasn´t enough spice in the food and we wanted it spicier. We asked for some spicy sauce and the guy brought us some warm soupy stuff with a little bit of pepper in it. We sent it back and he put more pepper into it. The stuff was still a bland warm soupy sauce.

This week we saw Perfume, the story of a murderer. It was amazing. The movie was 2.5 hours long and really really good. It was about a man who kills women to extract their scent. He is on trial for the murders and charms the entire town with the new scent and therefore is set free. After the movie we went to a fancy pasta/Italian restaurant and ate really well. I had gnocci with sea food and she had salmon. Its really funny how we eat very similar foods.

Julieta Venegas

On Sunday, June 3rd, I went to see Julieta Venegas at an auditorium near my house. As far as concerts go, it was an interesting experience. The mendocinos weren´t really all that into the concert. They pretty much sat down the entire time waiting for something to happen. My friends met at my house before going and we had a singing session and Jerin danced (from one of Julieta´s videos). We couldn´t handle the lack of energy at the concert, so Anna, Jerin and I left our seats and danced in the aisles. Then we were allowed to go up the stage and dance near Julieta. Anna´s sister met us and danced with us. After the concert, we found the stage door and waited for her to come out. When she did, I got some pictures, but we didn´t get any autographs. She was so cute. Julieta Venegas is a very quirky singer. She had guys in trenchcoats with pig´s masks walking around the stage during one song! We had a really good time at the concert after we left our seats and went to dance up front.

Palm Trees Covered in Snow

Monday, I woke up and my room was freezing, as usual. I got dressed and made myself oatmeal. While I was heating the water to make the oatmeal I looked outside. I was somewhat, okay very, surprised at what I saw: snow flurries. I was under the impression that it didn’t really snow much in Mendoza, just in the mountains outside the city. On the way to class, my micro (bus) passed through the city park. The palm trees in the park were dusted with snow! It was weird to see palm trees, a symbol of summer and warm climates, with snow! Anyway, the snow only stuck to the grass, and it was really just a little flurry, but still very cool! The Argentines were really excited by it. So excited that only ½ the class showed up to anthro (usually about ¾ show up).

Painting in the desert

This past weekend, the COPA group took a trip to Lavalle, a desert and the poorest area of the Mendoza province. 19 American students took a bus to the city (really town) of Lavalle and picked up a guide. That only took about an hour. Then the guide and our leader, Amparo, talked to us about the Huarpe, indigenous people who live in Lavalle. Amparo is not my favorite part of COPA: she is supposed to be the volunteer work coordinator, but pretty much just sucks at her job. She didn’t find enough positions for teaching English after promising us she would and she pretty much treats us like children who, because we don’t speak Spanish as well as she does, are incapable of thinking for ourselves.

En route to San Miguel, Lavalle, we stopped at a park where we had cake for breakfast. Yes, cake. Our program director had sent a cake which was filled with dulce de leche and topped in meringue. I took some of the meringue off the sides and ate that part. Then the guide led us through a part of the part which was made up like a museum. There were wooden structures se up to show how the Huarpes used to live.

We finally arrived in San Miguel at 12:30 (4 hours after leaving Mendoza) and picked beds and unpacked. We ate lunch and then began to paint. We went to Lavalle to paint a school and learn about the Huarpe culture. The school was a boarding school, for about 80 children who lived too far to commute to school everyday. It’s a grammar school, so children enter at age 5 and study there until 8th grade. They go to school for nine days and go home for five.

Saturday we painted four classrooms with the students and played outside with them. It was very disorganized: the floors weren’t protected well and the rooms weren’t cleaned of the dust (Lavalle is a desert). In some rooms, the kids literally painted the floor. It was mostly challenging because we were painting brick which involves rolling paint onto the face of the brick and then using a brush to coat the grout. Also, most of us agreed that we really liked the brick that was there beforehand. We also took a walk in the “town” which was a small settlement of four houses. We saw some quirquincho (armadillo) being raised to be eaten, some wild boar (same story) and some baby goats. Playing with the baby goats was just like being at Basset’s Animal Farm and watching my little brother playing with the baby goats.

Some of us taught the girls how to do the cotton-eye-Joe (line dance I learned at various grammar school dances and Bat Mitzvahs). We also played soccer and climbed on monkey-bars with them. After eating dinner with the students we had a “cultural exchange.” The kids danced some traditional Argentine dances (not the tango) for us, which was really cool because they were 10 years old and really capable dancers. Then a group of girls did the cotton-eye-Joe (again) and the electric slide with the kids. I was part of a group that put on a puppet show; I was an ant. It was a big success, the kids loved watching and wanted us to perform again, but we hadn’t prepared anything else.

Sunday morning, we had breakfast and then some students asked us to explain the American Revolution. They were learning about the Argentine revolution and we compared the motives and similarities between the two movements. Then we went outside for 10 minutes to play soccer. It was freezing cold, so playing was necessary, if anything, to stay warm. I actually kicked the ball three times!, which is pretty amazing considering my athletic ability. After going back inside, Jerin, Anna and I answered their questions as best as we could, then they asked us about the war in Iraq and the 9/11 attacks. By this point Amparo was angry that we weren’t painting/cleaning and she came over to tell the children that we had to go. They still had questions for us regarding the state of the USA as the biggest world power and what we thought of that. It was amazing that they students (who were 11 and 12 years old) had the interest and knowledge to ask us questions like these. Especially because they live in a remote place with no internet and no telephones. They go to a school which is paid for by the state, but don’t have television, newspapers, or connection with their families for 2/3 of the year.

So, Anna, Jerin and I took over one classroom and cleaned the floor really well. Then it was time for lunch. The kids at my table went nuts over the empanadas. A 5-year-old girl ate 4.5 and a 10-year-old girl ate 5 (she had me ask for an extra to give to her). I ate two. The COPA students sung songs for the kids, gave then new soccer balls and lollypops and then lined up to kiss them goodbye. Argentines always touch cheeks when greeting or parting. Finally, the president of a Huarpe community came to talk to us about their problems as an indigenous group in Argentina, but it wasn’t much different from the information I had heard in my anthro class.

On the bus ride back, we picked up people who were looking to get to Lavalle the town because very few cars pass on the dirt road. We got back to Mendoza and I took a shower, ate dinner, and went to bed.

I almost didn’t get into a boliche because I had a tampon in my bag

Any American woman (or female from the Western world) may be a little confused by that sentence. First off, a boliche is a night club – a place you go to dance. Anyway, the security at this place was major. Guys had to go through metal detectors and girls had a pat down process. During this process, the security lady found the tampon (and my allergy medicine, which she wasn’t pleased about either). I had to whine a lot (something I have perfected by watching the Argentines who want to get into someplace or accomplish something like change the date of a test) because she really did not want to let me in. She called over the male security guard to ask him what she should do about it. So I’m standing there while they are both looking at the plastic-wrapped yellow Tampax. Seeing as how I am completely free of shame, I begin to explain - in Spanish - about women and menstruation. The male security guard looks at the woman and tells her that I am a foreigner and to let me in. After all that, the club wasn’t that great (it was better than most, which only play electronic music); I’m not really much of a club person.

We also had a “cocina mendocina” (Mendoza kitchen) class. We made flan, alfajores (sandwich cookies), empanadas, tortitas (little rolls), and a veggie stew, which was the only thing I liked. The alfajores weren’t bad because they were non-traditional: usually they are super thick cookies with gobs of dulce de leche. These were thin like crackers and I made mine with marmalade. The empanadas had no flavor even though we put in a lot of spicy pepper. The tortitas were bread. Boring. Flan is disgusting to begin with; this was no different.

It was still fun to cook with some friends and we got to keep the aprons, which means that I can stay clean while cooking in my Sophia Gordon apartment!

My hout mom´s crazy family

We had a Sunday family lunch this past weekend. My host mom (Mariana) and I went to her sisters’ houses which are on the same piece of property. One sister had made this meat with mushroom gravy dish and roasted potatoes. We ate and then had tea and sat around reading the newspaper. Each sister has a COPA student staying with her. Kate lives with María-Elide and her daughters Agostina (17) and Antonela (15). Katie lives with Gaby her husband Ariel and kids Facundo (4) and Lucciana (2). So, all of these people were there along with Mariana’s father and his girl friend. Then, Mariana’s brother and his wife and one of there three children stopped by (I think this one is Juan Pedro, aged 5, or something). Kate, Katie and I decided to get out of Gaby’s house and go to the other one. We could no longer take the screaming and all had homework to do. At this point, Juan Pedro and Facundo were running around playing with a mask. Lucciana, the two-year-old, is still breast feeding. She climbs on to her mother’s lap, grabs her shirt and yanks at her bra. (We’re all sitting at the table experiencing her embarrassment for her). Kate, Katie and I discussed how age 2 probably is too old to be breast feeding and this child is horribly spoiled and never shuts up.

Katie went to take a nap, while Kate and I did more homework. As the afternoon progressed, the conversation seemed to move into the house we were in. Kate and I discussed how the family doesn’t have speaking voices. They all scream at each other. All the time. I am the luckiest student because I live with Mariana and its just the two of us. I thought Kate didn’t have it to bad living with the teenaged girls, but apparently they start screaming at 6 AM when they are getting ready for school. Kate’s room is downstairs and they go down to eat and yell up to their mother when they can’t find things. The girls also yell at their mom (and their aunts) when they are angry or don’t get what they want. Kate said they’ve even been rude to her. Apparently she’s had to yell just to be heard before. Anyway, so the family is nuts….all three generations yell at each other to be heard over all the noise they create and I’m the lucky one because I only live with one other person.

My Crazy Trip

I went home the other weekend. Home as in home home….New Jersey. I left my house in Mendoza on Friday April 27 at 4:30 PM. I went to what has to be the cutest airport ever. I mean, where else do they have grapes growing right along side the driveway? The immigration officer didn’t want to let me leave Argentina. See they have this asinine law that says Argentine residents, under 21 years of age, are not allowed to leave the country without the permission of a parent/guardian. I hold a year-long student visa, which makes me a temporary resident and I’m only 20. Thank goodness the other immigration officer was able to interject and say that in getting the visa, my parents granted me permission to travel freely. I have left Argentina 5 or 6 times, by bus, boat and plane, and no one has ever said anything to me. This just goes to prove that bureaucracy in this country is very screwed up.

I sat around while we waited for the plane to arrive from Santiago and then left late. The flight is about 25-30 minutes and you don’t even really get above the clouds. The plane gets just high enough to cross without crashing into the Andes mountains. Its actually a really beautiful view: you look out the window and its like, “Hello, snow. Hello, mountain.” (wow, nice view!) After touching down in Santiago, I boarded a refurbished long-distance bus (and by refurbished, they took some seats out) to go from the plane to the terminal. I immediately went to security and entered the international terminal, which was practically like being in America. Hello, Starbucks! (and Dunkin’ Donuts and Ruby Tuesday). I resisted the Starbucks and got a strawberry colata and one munchin (ok, that cost all of the $1100 pesos I had; I actually couldn’t afford starbucks).

For my next flight, I had to go through the “special for people flying to America” security check, which was a hand search of everyone’s carry on luggage. The only problem was, I had taken a Tylenol PM before doing the boarding pass thing and getting to this check point. So, I was practically falling asleep as I assured the airport personal that no, I was not carrying liquids (I neglect to carry my over-the-regulation-sized bottle of benadryl as liquid). I actually only slept for 5 hours of the flight, which was full. Miami international airport is a delightful place to be at 5:30AM. I power walked to immigration so I could go right through. I was greeted by a southern accent from a way-too-chipper immigration officer who welcomed me home (the first time that has ever happened….they’re much bitchier in NY and NJ and in Boston they don’t even bother to stamp my passport, let alone welcome me home). After grabbing my bags, I went to pass customs and was selected for the “random search.” Its now 6:15AM and I have to deal with a customs agent going through my stuff and questioning me as to why I have been in South America (Peru! Bolivia!) for so long and what was I doing there. I am also carry two bottles of wine (I’m under 21…), which the moron managed to miss. They were wrapped in a Peruvian hammock and quite obviously glass bottles. I have a lot of newfound faith in the US Customs and Border Patrol (not.).

My next flight was delayed with a departure gate change, which meant I got to New York ½ an hour later than scheduled and found my parents waiting for me at the exit of the terminal. We got my bag and went home. I was in HP from Saturday afternoon until Tuesday afternoon. In that time I had sushi for dinner, whitefish salad for lunch and went to my grandfather’s wake and funeral. For my return flight, we went back to La Guardia where I flew to Texas. The only problem was, we sat on the runway in New York an extra half hour before taking off and therefore, got to Texas late. I had to hurry through the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport, which was actually quite nice. The monorail was quick and the international terminal had a million restaurants and stores. Before getting on the plane, I bought myself one last meal in America: a bottle of Aquafina, tortilla soup from a Tex/Mex place, and Ben and Jerry’s strawberry kiwi sorbet. Ben and Jerry’s was actually closing/closed, but the guys gave me a scoop for free (I tipped them).

The flight to Santiago was practically empty except for a group of men going to look for copper…I’m not entirely sure who they worked for or what exactly they were doing, but one was really excited because he had just found a copper penny at the airport. I still didn’t have my boarding pass for the Santiago flight, so I asked the woman at the desk at the gate (in English). She had just been speaking English with another person, but decided to respond to my questions in Spanish. I don’t know why. Then, I took two Nyquil and got on the plane. I woke up off and on during the 9 hour flight and then finally woke up and realized that I only had about 35 minutes before my next plane left.

When I got off the plane, a man was waiting with a clipboard. I gave him my name and he told me to run down the hall to the security check. I still didn’t have a boarding pass, so I stopped at the check-in area, where another guy escorted me through security and up the stairs to the Lan question desk. There, I was handed my boarding pass and told to rush to the gate. I got to the gate with 5 minutes to spare. The 25 minute flight was really nice, just like the first one and Mariana met me at the airport. I went home and went to bed.