Folklore and Argentine Boys...

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I celebrated with my 3 dollar pair of green Ralph Lauren shorts. I'll admit I thought they were kind of ugly when I first saw them at Dillard's (at their original price). A few months later they were put on the three dollar rack- they didn't seem so ugly then (Ralph Lauren's for 3 bucks!). For that kind of deal I was going to "make it work."

Amanda had a little bit of green on her bracelet so I refrained from pinching her.

I had another folklore lesson today (I've also seen it spelled folclore but who knows?).

This is my teacher Luis

We were learning about the chacarera- this drum is a bomba leguero. A legua -or league- is approximately 5Km; this drum is so named because when played en al campo (countryside) it can be heard 5Km away.

The chacarera is a type of rhythm from the Argentine province Santiago Del Estero- directly north of the Cordoba province. (I think it's also from the Salta province)

This is a charango- a small high pitched little instrument that originated in the Andes- in Bolivia I think. I'm enjoying learning about the different instruments and rhythms and the various provinces they are from.

We played a really pretty song called "Chacarera del Chilalo." Chilalos are little birds (the actual word is from an indigenous dialect of Quechua); the rest of the lyrics talk about the beautiful mountains, aromas of the flowers in bloom, indigenous plants and trees.

There are a few lines in the third estribillo (chorus):

Se entreveran los tum-tum
de bombos legüeros
de hachas, de malambos
y de criollos morteros.

That talk about the "tum-tum" of the bombos legueros, sounds of axes (cutting wood or whatever), malambos (folk dancers- malambo is a type of dance), and of morteros (mortar and pistil grinding wheat or herbs).

mortero



malambos

Malambo is an Argentine folk dance for men only. I did some research (google) and found out that during the 19th century gauchos would show off their dance skills with the malambo (around pit fires and at parties). When we visited Buenos Aires a while back, we went to LA BOCA; I remember there being malambo dancers as well as tango dancers performing on the stages at the little cafes. There was a lot of jumping and pounding with the feet- I can easily see why it was compared to the sound of the bomba leguero and axes chopping wood.

I'm really enjoying my folklore lessons and I can tell Luis enjoys teaching me. He is excited to show me new rhythms, draw me maps of Argentina showing me where the rhythms are from, he explains the lyrics of the songs and why the lyrics are important. Folklore from the northern regions talks about the countryside and carnival whereas folklore from Mendoza (the wine province) will compare things to vino (wine) and vineyards and so on. Songs with the chamame rhythm from the provinces of Corrientes, Misiones, and Entre Rios (near Buenos Aires and south of Brazil) have lyrics talking about the rios (there are two main rivers) and about fishing and so on. It's all really interesting.


*So, my dad teases me over the phone. He tells me to take my new, fancy guitar and play it on the street in front of our house- so I can catch me a cute Argentine boy. Well...

Amanda, Mareen (our new roommate from Alemania- Germany) and I were walking home last night and I had my guitar with me (after my folklore lesson). As we walked past the corner kiosk, two guys said something to get my attention- I looked back and they started asking about my guitar. We start talking (and Amanda comes back to see what held me up) and they ask if I have time to sit and play- I did.

After playing the first song they clapped and then we started talking some more- their names were Cristian and Alejandro, they lived a few blocks away (we didn't tell them where we live) and they were our age. They started asking if I knew any folklore music (lucky that I did right?) and then Alejandro asked me what other types of music I listened to (at this time Amanda was talking to Christian). All of a sudden we saw our tango teacher- Francisco- walk across the street to his car (Amanda LOVES Francisco and swears she will kiss him before leaving Argentina); Amanda ran across the street to say hello and Christian's brother drove by so Christian went off after him to say hello.

Are you still with me?

• Amanda is across the street with stars in her eyes talking to Francisco, the biologist with a P.h. D who teaches tango in his spare time...
• Christian is down the street a quarter of a block talking to his brother...
• Alejandro is sitting next to me and asking me questions while I mess around on the guitar...

(5 or 1o minutes earlier before Amanda and Christian left)

Alejandro: you have very pretty eyes...

Malena: Awwww, thank you... (look away and go back to my guitar)

Alejandro: Do you have a boyfriend?

Malena: No.

(Back to when Amanda and Christian walked off)

Alejandro: Can I have a kiss?

Malena: swallow... Ummm, a beso? (mind you- he was speaking Spanish so I did a double take)

Alejandro: Sí

Malena: NO! (awkwardly avert my eyes and go back to playing)

NOT even a few minutes later...

Alejandro: please, un beso...

Malena: Ok...acá. (point to my cheek)

He kisses my cheek

Alejandro: a kiss for me?

I kiss his cheek. (awkwardly go back to my guitar)


Amanda comes back with a dreamy look in her eye. Alejandro says something about loving the way I play or loving my playing. I cue Amanda that it's time to go; we say our friendly goodbyes and go home.

I don't know that my dad realized there was some truth in his words when he teased me about playing on the street. (This isn't the first time I've been invited to sit down and play... after my first lesson, a street vendor selling movies had me sit and play. Another guy my age stopped and talked to me... I even made a small tip!)

Villa Carloz Paz and Choripan

I haven't updated my blog in a while so I am posting three blogs tonight and back-dating them so it looks like I've updated my blog.

(Here we are waiting ever so patiently for the trolley-bus)


We went to Villa Carloz Paz yesterday- it's about an hour bus ride from Cordoba. We wanted to go swimming. After asking a bunch of people at the bus terminal in Carloz Paz which bus to take, and then taking the bus to find out 15 minutes later we were going the wrong direction, getting off and back tracking, then asking the tourist office where to go, we found:
A Cabalango.

A lot of people go to this river to swim and soak up the sun.

So the bathing suit styles are a bit different- I guess it's better than the no- top-at-all swim suit style the European travelers in Phuket modeled. I'm also glad to report that there were no speedos (my high school in Malaysia was on the beach and next to a hotel- I have terrible memories of walking to art class and seeing fat (I'm talking really fat) British men in speedos through the gate).

It took us forever to get there but once we did it was wonderful. The water was refreshing and it felt good to lounge about.

We left for Cordoba around 7:30 or 8:00.


We originally had plans to go bungee jumping with Daniel and Carlos (friends from church) but that didn't pan out (long story, but we might go next weekend). Daniel (in the car with Carlos and their friend Melisa) got a hold of us when we got back into town and invited us to a coche corre- an auto race of some sort. He picked us up (literally we got off the bus and into the car) and headed towards the airport because the stadium was supposed to be nearby. As we got closer we stopped and asked numerous people for directions- we soon found out that the races are on Fridays, not Saturdays.


Plan B was to go get a Coke or something and walk around a park. When Daniel, Carlos, and Melisa found out that Amanda and I had never tried choripan, we headed towards Parque Sarmiento and "the best choripan in Cordoba."



Chorizo (type of sausage-not the same as Mexican chorizo) + pan (bread) = choripan.


It was hot off the grill and full of flavor...

Not exactly a bratwurst, but it was similar. There were all kinds of toppings- lettuce, tomato, onions, pickled onions, mayo, hot sauce, other pickled veggies and so on. The bread was toasted on the grill... I snarfed the whole thing.


We had a great time! It felt so nice to have friends call us and invite us to go out with them. We still aren't understanding everything so communicating is kind of hard- people are really patient though.

The church is the same anywhere you go. It's wonderful because you immediately find people your age that have the same beliefs and same things in common.

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...