We're Half Way Through... Where's the Time Gone??!!

Time is flying by, it seems like we arrived just yesterday! Amanda and I are finally starting to make friends- they are texting me and inviting us to things.  

We asked our friends in the lab about peñas- places where Argentine folk music is performed and you can get something to eat.  Andrea (our friend from the lab) was really sweet and went to the trouble of arranging a night to go out and inviting everyone from the lab to come.  We went to a nearby restaraunt called Alfonsina's- we had pizza, locro, and humita (will blog about locro and humita later).

 

Sebastian- a friend from church- came along.  He likes my guitar a lot and jokes about me giving it to him (half the time I don't know what the hell is going on so I just smile, nod my head, and say sí).  I've since learned the verb dar (to give) and the word regalo (gift).  I've also learned that taking your index finger and pulling your bottom eyelid down while looking at someone means "I'm watching you" or "watch out" - I did this the other night when a bunch of us went for ice cream.  My guitar was placed in a safe spot and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was moving it- I pulled my eyelid down and he caught my meaning and laughed.  Snaps for me because I made my first chiste (joke) in this culture and it was funny (but you had to be there). 

(from the left: Andrea, Martín, Evangelina, Valeria)

 The plan was to go to a peña but there was a group from Brazil setting up at the restaurant so we stayed and listened to them.

We stayed until like 2:00 in the morning- we were tired and goofy towards the end.  Amanda looks normal but Sebastian and I couldn't take a good shot to save our lives.

(There was a protest earlier that day- they set off all kinds of noise bombs and blocked the road.  I was told that protests happen often and are usually effective because they clog traffic and cause havoc with bus systems in the center part of the city. Because we are part of a BYU program we aren't allowed to get close (I guess common sense also suggests that it isn't a good idea to get involved since we aren't citizens here)- we were walking to the lab and took this photo from across the street.  As much as we wanted to, we kept our distance and didn't go over and ask what the protest was about.)

(Daniel)

These are some photos from our ice cream outing.  We went with a large group of people from Institute.

Carolina y Amanda

Field Trip- Ichu Cruz

Our professors- Andrea and Alicia- teach an intensive two-week class on floral biology.  Amanda and I went with the class on a field trip one of the days to a small town called Ichu Cruz- we learned about flowers of the region.

We had fun talking to the other students and getting to know them.  I knew enough Spanish to ask people where they were from, what they were studying, what they wanted to do after school and so on-  the same types of questions we typically ask (in the U.S.)  when first meeting people. 

We stopped near a river to eat lunch...

The cool water felt sooooo good!

I find it really fascinating to see just how important mate really is to this culture.  Many people carry around a thermos of hot water, their mate/bombillo, and the yerba so they can drink it throughout the day-  it doesn't seem to matter how hot it is outside either.  

(A few days later I went back to this class to hear some friends from the lab talk about their work.  There were three or four mates being passed around- it seems that three or four people bring theirs to class and then share it with friends.   There are certain  unsaid "rules" about the whole mate sharing thing- you NEVER swirl the bombillo (straw/filter thing) and you don't take too long with it when you are sharing with a group.   A couple of girls I met during the field trip passed me a mate and I- the extranjero- didn't want to look like a fool so I immediately started drinking with a big gulp. It scalded my mouth and made my eyes water- I couldn't taste anything for two days and probably still looked like a fool.  At least now I now that I like mate con azucar (sugar) better than amargo (bitter) - it was the first time I tried it with sugar.)

 

We saw some wildlife.

We also saw a really neat church or shrine at the top of this hill.

I haven't taken any kind of botany class so not only was I learning new Spanish terms, but I was learning some new things about floral anatomy.

It was a really fun day- everyone was really nice.

Me Gusta Asado...

Our professors- Alicia and Andrea- were really kind and invited us up into the Sierras Chicas (mountains- but they were more like hills) today to have an asado.  The name of the pueblo was Cuesta Blanca- it was near a more widely known town called Carlos Paz.  We had a wonderful time- it was so nice of them to include us.  I feel like I experienced the "real" Argentina today by attending an Argentine family dinner; I like having these types of cultural experiences- they are the reason I wanted to come to Argentina

Andrea's parents have a really nice summer home next to a river.

There was a family gathering...

And a table with large cutting boards, around which silverware and glasses were placed.

This is Don Alfredo- Andrea's father; he explained his nickname "Don" and how it has a different meaning than in the context of Spanish nobility... didn't quite pick up on everything. He and is wife Nora were kind enough to have us over.  We really appreciated their hospitality.

This is Leo- Don Alfredo's grandson- he lit the fire and stoked the coals...

And then there was asado...

And one really happy and spoiled dog named Taco.  He was so named because his parents are Mexican.  I dropped a piece of potato and he wouldn't touch it- he had all kinds of scrap meat at his paws and was choosy.

Asado is a specific name for beef that is cooked on a grill similar to the one above; though an asado is a type of grill... you could also say, "have you tried an asado yet?" meaning have you had a piece of meat off the asado? We shared large cutting boards.  Leo- the guy tending to the meat, would cut up chunks of each type of meat (morucha (ribs), vacio (flank stank), morcilla (blood sausage), chorizo, mollejas (sweetbreads- yes my friends, I tried sweetbreads and actually knew what they were because I watch Top Chef), and pork) and then send it around on a huge cutting board.  

I've had more beef this week than I usually eat in an entire month.  It was all REALLY good though.

A picture of the kitchen inside...

Criollito (*remember that the "ll" in Argentina is pronounced somewhat like a "j" in English)- a wonderful, magical, buttery, flaky, salty, sweet little biscuit that is unique to the Cordoba Province.

We learned a new game- sapo- or frog.  

You throw the fichas (or little metal coins),

and aim for the holes or frog's mouth- you earn points depending on where they fall.  The coins go through the holes and into slots with different point values marked on the outside.

There was also swimming, climbing, jumping, and diving...

And later that night a jam session.

But not really, I don't exactly rock out on my guitar.  Sebastian is a friend we met at institute- he was kind enough to bring over some tango music and show me some Argentine folk guitar. I've played classical guitar my whole life- never really learned to strum or use a pick.  I'm learning to strum now! (but not with a pick)

  

Did I mention that I bought a pink leather jacket while in Buenos Aires a few weeks ago?

It was calling my name.  Had to have it.

I´ve Been Cutoff...

Not from Daddy´s fortune...

from the internet!

We haven´t had internet at our apartment or in the lab since last Saturday. I never realized before how addicted I really am. Facebook, Google, Hotmail, Yahoo, Blog... you name it.

On Saturday we woke up early (for us anyway) and headed to the only ATM we know will take our Visa cards. We had plans. La Cumbre is a small town about a 2hr bus ride from us- we were going to parapente.

(one guess what it means...)

It seems the cosmos had different plans because the ever helpful Utah Community Credit Union turned off my card and the ATM took it and refused to spit it out. The bank was closed, there was no phone around to call the help number, so I pulled out my cell phone, stuck in the sim card I recently bought, made Amanda run across the street to buy a minutes card at a kiosk, and then guarded that ATM like a pit bull.

Right as I started to upload minutes on my phone so I could call the help number and get my card back, the battery died. At this point I was panicking... the ATM had my card!!! I decided to chance it and hope that the ATM kept the card; I took a taxi home so I could call my bank and make sure the card was turned off or whatever (just in case).

You think I could get a hold of ANYBODY at the UCCU? Nope, it was Saturday and the bank was closed; I was stuck with a million different recordings telling me to push a number. I told them two or three times before leaving that I would be in Argentina so please don´t flag my account and turn my card off (this had happened to my folks in Malaysia). Yeah, didn´t do any good. My mother was inspired and sent me with a backup card for emergencies so it wasn´t the end of the world, I was able to get some cash.

*Maybe I called my dad and had a meltdown... a whole bunch of things had been building, building, building and then this whole ATM business set me off. KABOOM! My dad talked me off the ledge and told me he´d take care of calling the bank (thank you Dafoo) and to go have fun. I calmed down, washed my snot-nosed face, and then got ready to go. By this time it was too late in the day to go do parapente so we went to La Falda instead.

It was a charming little town about an hour and half from where we live. We walked past a hotel and under the sign it said SPA- the magical three-letter word that seems to be the same in every language.

I got a massage with hot oil and these smooth, hot stones. I´m happy to say that the massage was way better than the pedicure fiasco; it was so good, I decided to get a facial too. Suddenly things didn´t seem so bad.

I´m happy to say that things have been really good (post meltdown). I got my card back, I´m going to take some guitar lessons (to learn some Argentine music), and I´ve set up Spanish classes for the rest of the month. I´m really enjoying myself...

Antigua Casa Nuñez

The first thing we did after arriving in Buenos Aires and checking into the hostel was take a walk up calle (street) Sarmiento to the guitar shop Antigua Casa Nuñez. I nagged and nagged Amanda to go to Buenos Aires because I wanted a guitar; even though we are going to be here 3 months we HAD to go to Buenos Aires within the first few weeks. Before coming to Argentina I had researched this guitar shop- it was established in 1870 and has made classical guitars for famous guitarists such as Andres Segovia. I KNEW that if I was going to get a guitar in Argentina, it was going to be from this shop...

Below is a signed picture of Segovia playing on one of the the shop's guitars; it was hanging on the wall along with many other framed autographs of famous guitarists of Argentina. Segovia is one of the most famous classical guitarists; he was an amazing player, teacher, and he edited/transcribed a lot of music for the classical guitar.

I told Carlos (the guy in the background) that I already had a cedar guitar and would like to try a spruce guitar.

I played many guitars. One of the most expensive spruce guitars was brought to me the first day and I played it; I thought it was the one I was going to buy. After returning to the hostel for the night I emailed Larry Green (my guitar professor at BYU) and asked for any tips or advice about buying another guitar. I'm glad I contacted him because he mentioned that there can be major problems when buying a guitar in a humid climate and then taking it back the always dry Utah. Another person in my ensemble bought a guitar in South America and the body cracked when he took it back to Utah; Larry helped me contact a luthier in Utah who has made guitars for him and others at BYU so I could ask about the humidity problem.

I wanted to to find a cheaper guitar because I would be devastated if the nicest one cracked when I took it home. The cheaper guitars just weren't doing anything for me.... Carlos handed me another guitar that was hand made by the same luthier- Bartello- and I started to play. The stain on the guitar was really dark- dark enough to look like a cedar guitar. After I had "the moment" when you discover that this is the guitar, I asked how much it was (thinking it was one of the cheaper ones) and it turned out to be about 1500 pesos more than I thought. It was cheaper and not as nicely made (there are a few nails- nicer guitars are entirely glued) but it was more enjoyable to play and it sounded nicer than the expensive guitar.

I've had teachers explain that everyone who plays an instrument will have times when they don't make mistakes, the tone sounds wonderful, the dynamics and expression are working out, and you connect with the music. You just have "a moment," and these "moments" are the reason you struggle through the times when your sound sucks and you don't feel like practicing. Well, I had "a moment" with this guitar (below) and none of the others- that's when I knew it was the one...

To make a long story short, I bought the guitar (pictured above) and have worked out the humidity problem. It sounds nice and the deluxe, fancy case was thrown in for free- un regalo (gift). I spent more than I intended but I figured that I would have this guitar for years to come so why buy a piece of crap instead of the one I really wanted? I went back to the shop three times and planned my whole weekend around when the shop was open and when I should buy the guitar (because I didn't want to keep it in the hostel, yuck!). *speaking of hostels, they are okay for cheapo students like me (honestly it sucked), but when I'm rich and established some day, it's going to be nothing but the J Dubya Marriott. P.S. I don't consider the "hostel" in Cordoba a hostel... it's more of a really nice apartment.

Carlos charging my purchase (I have to believe they don't sell 3,000 peso guitars everyday and that he made a nice commission). I figure if anyone really, really wants to know how much I spent, they can google the conversion rate.

I didn't realize the guy taking the picture didn't actually get the guitar in the picture. Oh well, you can see the neck and some of the photos and guitars in the background.

I may upload video some other time so you can hear how it sounds.

Buenos Aires

Recoleta

We went back to the Barrio Recoleta and to the cemetary; it was worth a second trip back. We've read that to be burried in this cemetary you've got to 1. be rich, 2. famous, 3. have connections.

It was really beautiful and quiet because we had gotten there before all the big tour buses. As soon as the people started crowding in and getting in the way it wasn't as fun. I was kind of suprised how recent a lot of the burials/entombents were.

We went by Evita Peron's mausoleum; I'll admit, at first I thought it was her father's or a relative of hers. I was expecting it to be one of the huge, grand, and elaborate mausoleums that we had seen earlier.

Juan Peron had Evita's body in Spain (when he was in exile) after Peron died, Isabel Peron had Evitá's body returned and buried in her family (Duarte was her father) tomb. Even her husband-the president- didn't make the cut to be placed in Recoleta.

After Recoleta we asked for directions to another neighborhood in Buenos Aires- San Telmo. San Telmo has one of the best artesan markets in Argentina. We didn't go there first because it was raining that morning and the information desk at the hostel said it would be closed.

We started walking towards the subte (subway) and took a left instead of a right and got lost and had to backtrack. by the time we got on the subte and at the transfer station to another line it was too late. We had to be back to our hostel by 4:00 to meet a group to go to a football game. I was sad that we didn't make it to San Telmo- next time we'll make it.

River Plate vs. Banfield

We left from the hostel like 3 1/2 hours early. I guess the guide knew what he was doing because there were 3 or 4 different security checks we had to go through.

In my opinion watching the crowd was the funnest part of the game.

At first we were in the "tame" part of the crowd- there was some cheering but it was laid back enough for parents to take their small children and for people to sit down and watch the game. I watched as a group of guys spent at least a half hour trying to hang their ¨"La Salda" banner on the fence in the background (picture above). A lot of people took banners with the name of their barrio or names of players and hung them; I was talking to my mom the other night and we´ve decided that I should make a Provo, Utah banner to take with me to the next game.

Amanda and I decided to sneak further down into the standing crowd during halftime; it didn't feel like we were getting the real experience in the upper part of the stands. We wanted to be where everyone was shouting, throwing papers around, and jumping up and down. The next game we go to we are going to aim for the middle part of the stadium (picture below); this was where the real action was. Amanda snook over for a few minutes during half-time but decided to come back over where I was after she saw a guy sniff some cocaine.

Right before the game started an informal drumline marched out with people waving flags and banners. There were song-like cheers all throughout the game; when the opposing team (Banfield) came out there was a cheer calling them second class or number two- something like that. The next time we go to a game we want to learn some of the cheers before.

After River plate won the game, there were some flares nd more cheering. Each section of the stadium had to wait to be escorted out; I guess there had been some problems in the past with people getting trampled. They also didn't allow alcohol inside the stadium- one of the guys in our group was pulled over for a breathalizer test and almost wasn't let in because the genius downed almost a liter of beer on the bus ride over.

LA BOCA

A neighborhood in Buenos Aires settled by Italian immigrants from Genoa; it is believed by some that La Boca is named after a Genoa neighborhood called Boccadasse, however the more conventional explanation is that the neighborhood sits at the mouth (boca) of the Riachuelo.

The Caminito is the name of the walkway that is famous for the brightly painted shops and apartments. Today the caminito basically a tourist attraction with shops and tango dancers on the side of the street. Though it was nothing but tourists and restaraunt owners trying to recruit you to their cafe, we had a lot of fun.

*So I couldn't keep a strait face; this guy was looking so intently into my eyes while I was trying not to laugh. I wish I could have held a straight face for at least one shot, it would have made it even better.

They made me take my hair down and stick it through... a nice touch in my opinion.

We stopped for a drink and snack at a little cafe with a live tango show. They invited us up to pose.

Another guy posing with one of the tango dancers...

Overall, La Boca was very touristy but fun.

We split up after La Boca; Amanda went to El Tigre, and I walked around San Telmo (I'll post photos after our next trip to Buenos Aires and after the La Feria de San Pedro Telmo- the artesian fair that we missed because it is only open Sundays). I didn't want to get tied down to a tour group because I had some purchases to make.

Stay tuned because tomorrow is all about the new guitar and pink leather jacket.