Panic at the Disco

Primero fin de semana

Looking back on this weekend, I know now more than ever that I belong to a very privileged group. The girls that I've been hanging out with for a couple of days (does that make them my friends?) refer to our struggles in life as "white girl problems" or "first world problems". Por ejemplo - at which restaurant should we eat tonight? Do I really want to travel all the way to San Telmo or should I just stay in Polermo to hang out? Or, when we're having trouble adjusting to our new phones' texting keys. Woe is me.

Sure, it's inconvenient to face some of these issues, but it's just not really a big deal in the long run. In the upcoming weeks, I would like to volunteer through my IES program with a church group that goes into underprivileged neighborhoods and provides opportunities for fun and leadership building for kids there. This is where my status as a first world white girl conflicts with my want to help out any way I can: I have to travel to this neighborhood via public transportation in a city in which I've just arrived. It's not easy to just disregard my privilege so easily. I have to plan out how to step away - take a buddy, travel in daylight, have enough cash for a cab, but not enough to be a substantial loss if something happens. Safety, held to western standards, is always a priority.

I could go on, but I'd rather take this space to describe in detail the enormous amounts of food I consumed at the estanchia, or ranch, on Friday. So, I and 120 of my new closest friends, took 3 big charter buses out of the city Friday morning. About an hour & a half later, I woke up in the middle of nowhere, rolling into a vast expanse of property that is truly beautiful. (I blame my excellent ability to nap at any given moment here on the time difference....) Stepping off the bus and into a gust of cold wind, we took a glorified hayride to the main building area. By glorified hayride, I mean there was actually no hay, but the concept of being pulled in a cart by a tractor reminds me of such memories.

Immediately, I start with the breakfast table. Café, té, maté, fried sweet bread, regular bread, salami, cheeses, sweet potato chips, homemade potato chips, these puffy things that didn't have much flavor, empanadas, and I'm sure I'm forgetting more. I tried pretty much a piece of everything. I have issues with saying no to food.

Utter failure on the maté front. I was offered the mug/cup/vase thing and then, the staff person from IES who offered it to me got distracted and walked away. So, I was sipping the bitter water being stewed inside the vessel all by myself. I tried to go find someone to talk to, and she yells at me, first in Spanish then in English, you can't take that! I froze and she walked back over to me. She explained to me that maté is a beverage one shares and that we were sharing it. I knew the first half of that, but when she walked away from me and had a conversation with another student, I became confused. Regardless, I finished the water, handed it back to her, and she refilled it with the huge thermos o' hot water she was carrying with her and sipped her portion. A couple of students - hesitant like we are - came over and asked to join. I shared what information I had gained, instead of watching them clumsily learn like I had. We all made mistakes, most obviously when we thanked her for handing us the mug. That apparently means that you don't want anymore. It was fun to try something new and something unique.

After hitting around a volleyball for a little bit on a nearby sand court, we made our way into the restaurant area for lunch. First off, the building was gorgeous. Pale walls with wooden accents complimented the large fireplace illuminated both by the coals and the sun streaming through the skylights. In the center of the room was a huge salad bar with more wonderful foods including cheese (blue, parmesan, mozzarella, fresh farm cheese, something that was spicy and others), meats (not just your average hunks of salami, but delicious and flavorful beef), regular salad stuff (your standard lettuce, tomato, onion, peas, corn, and other salad amenities), crab, artichokes, roasted red peppers, dried fruit, and a million more things.

I really tried to limit myself to one plate on account of I wasn't even hungry yet. I sat at a table with a couple of soon-to-be friends and some staffers from IES. It was a good mix of people and the conversation frequently drifted from one language to the other. Not even able to complete my plate, I was ready for a nap. Then, the meat came. Hoards of it. One by one, waiters came to our table offering to us different cuts of a cow. First, was a super tender and decadent steak slab, then some sausage, then ribs, then some sort of gland (which the staff members made us try, it wasn't my favorite, but it also wasn't bad), then another kind, and another, and another after that. Then, the lamb, then the chicken. At first I was too excited to say no thanks, but as the meat pile on my auxiliary plate was growing faster than I could manage to eat it, I had to start saying no thanks. After the last round of meats, literally 1.5 hours later, I needed to stretch. Or die. When I came back from a lap around the building, there was helado with nuts and chocolate, a berry and cream, and caramelized orange peels in my place. I thought it was a joke. As it turns out, it was absolutely delicious.

Needing another walk, we wandered over to the the stable for the horses. After riding for a bit, we headed back over to the main area to relax in the fading sun before we departed for the day. 20 minutes into our talking, 9 waiters and waitresses emerge from the building carrying two tables worth of more desserts ranging from fruit and custard pies to chocolate strawberry cakes. They were gorgeous, and of course everyone who had been groaning not 30 seconds earlier about the amount of food we had just consumed was now standing in line with big white glass plates waiting for yet more dessert. Including myself.

My friend and I decided to share our portions so that we could taste more. We ended up with 3 full plates. I tried what I wanted to, but could physically not handle any more, but every bit was totally delicious.

I would like to take a moment and reference the previous paragraphs as a classic symptom of a binge eating disorder. I am pretty sure I don't have a problem, though because I never, EVER, want to do that again. I made some good choices that day, but sampling so many foods was not one of them.

The weather was nearly as beautiful as our surroundings, and the relaxing atmosphere was a great break from the hubbub of the city. It was a spectacular day.

On Saturday, I went on a bus tour with IES. I would like to tell you that the city is also awesome when viewed from the top level of a double decker, bright yellow, very touristy tour bus. It was nice, though, because I had a chance to notice different things about the city, like the street lights that hang from a system of wires attached to the buildings as opposed to the big poles I'm used to in the States, the architecture and how it changed from one neighborhood to the next, and just how many parks there are. It was long and a little chilly, but we stopped in the same park as my papa took me to on Saturday morning.

In Palermo, this park that encompasses two lakes, a rose garden, and plenty of grass and trees for thousands of families to walk, play, and rest on. On the weekends, it transforms from a typical park into a space for roller skating artists, free aerobics classes, concerts, amateur tight rope walkers, and food vendors. Children's Day (celebrated like Mother's or Father's Day in the States) is coming up in August. There was a big initiative to decorate a bunch of drawstring bags with fabric and other craft materials to give to children who would otherwise not received a gift. I got to participate along with some of my friends. It was a cool experience.

We ditched the bus tour a bit early so we could make it to our first Tango class on time. I had an awesome time learning some new moves and am so excited to continue. My instructors only speak Spanish and Italian, but we figured it out eventually. I was talking with this girl who goes to CMU while we were practicing walking like a Tango dancer about the music. She called it epic, and I agreed. Continuing to really listen to it, though, I proposed a new metaphor. The music presents an ultimatum. You must dance or something bad will happen. This sounds strange now that I'm repeating this in written text, but watch this video and you'll catch a glimpse of what I mean.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXhQNRsH3uc

Ps, when I come home, I'm going to be that good.

For dinner last night, I went to an Italian restaurant with my friends. I had ravioli with some sort of cheese and spinach that was delicious. My friend ordered ravioli that had abuela in the title. We joked that every time someone orders this, an abuela or grandmother, has to bust into the kitchen and prepare the dish. Another girl's Caesar salad arrived with no dressing on it. I thought that by definition a Caesar had dressing, but keeping in custom of all Argentine salads, there is no dressing. My host parents eat lettuce and tomatoes every night. My housemate and I add some balsamic.

Oh, I dropped off my laundry at a service on Saturday. I was with my dad, so I knew he wouldn't lead me astray, but this tiny little shop had 4 washers, shopping bags full of clothes stacked all around, and 4 dryers that were rumbling away. My mouth actually fell ajar when I saw an open flame licking the base of the drying drum. This wasn't just a little torch, either, it was a decent sized fire. I don't really know what happened in there because I was staring at the fire hazards all around me. I pick up what's left of my clothes on Monday.

Sunday, I accidentally slept in, but it was fine because I had nowhere to be - an excellent feeling by the way. I had made loose plans to go to the Recoleta market with a couple of people, but that changed when my host mom invited me to lunch with the family. And, I mean the whole family. Ann Christine and Jorge have 5 children. All are grown and married, and some have kids of their own. I had met Martina and Macarena before, but I met their cousin, Juanita. She's two and is very adorable. With all the little girls running around and the chattering adults, I felt very at home. Of course, the girls haven't warmed up to me yet, and I can't understand any of the adult conversation, so I'm caught somewhere in the middle. It's nice to observe, though. Lunch was all kinds of delicious with 3 types of pasta. And, as it turns out, I found out it was their son's wife's birthday, so there was special dessert - an apple creamy dish that was to die for. Also, Martina found the bag of Hershey kisses I brought her grandparents. Everyone was pretty excited and kept giving each other kisses, both chocolate and not. It's amazing what a little bag of something from home can inspire.

After, we went to the market and walked all through the craft vendors. I got sister gifts (get excited, L&S) and some great ideas for Christmas presents. We watched some spontaneous Tango and enjoyed the music from the concert going full speed ahead in the center. It was nice to not be in a rush or uncomfortable at all.

A Disco (grocery store) run to get some supplies for lunch this week later and I'm home about to order a pizza from the place down the street for dinner with my housemate. All of my groceries for this week totaled about $20 US. I like this exchange rate. =]

I had a mild panic attack because packaging is so different here than it is elsewhere. There were about 3.5 aisles of cheese to choose from and literally 2 kinds of salami and 1 kind of lunch meat ham. I guess packing a sandwich isn't very popular here. That makes sense on account of the no plastic baggies, plastic wrap or foil. I guess I haven't been paying attention to lunch habits.

Sorry about the lack of commenting ability on this blog. I guess you can only comment if you have a Penn State account. Feel free to facebook or email me with anything you'd like to say. I'll update my Picasa soon.

Best.