Medialunas Salad

Yep, I tell people my name is Raquel because they so rarely understand Rachel.
Lunch = milanesa pollo, papas, potatas, , Coca Zero
MALBA - Museo de Arte Latinaamerica de Buenos Aires

Making spring break plans is tough. It’s difficult for me to try to plan out my stay in a foreign city. I only know what Lonely Planet and Fodor tell me to do. They haven’t misled me yet, but there’s a degree of spontaneity that I hope my small group can maintain throughout our trip. We’re going first to Puerto Madryn to see penguins in igloos who are not named Geno and Sidney and to kayak amongst whales. It’s a 20 hour bus ride because Argentina is flipping huge, but it will definitely be worth it! There is also the potential of scuba diving with sea lions.

Hmmm... Decisions, decisions.

Next up, we have another 19 or so hours to El Calafate, even farther south in Argentina. There, I will be able to experience trekking up and down the jagged surface of world famous glaciers including Perito Moreno, Upsala, Onelli, and Spegazzini.

I will embark on the 30^th of September and return to BA on the 10^th of October, which is a significant day for some other reason as well...

Speaking of drinking, I sampled a caipirina the other night. Delicious. Thank you, Brazil.

In other news, midterms are quickly approaching. My Spanish exam might be the death of me. Remember that 10 minute presentation that I was forced into completing a week or so ago? An appropriate description would be “grenade”. It started with the promise of suddenly exploding into a vast array of issues including the sudden onset of amnesia pertaining to vocabulary, the audience playing Sporcle on their laptops (http://www.sporcle.com/games/sproutcm/beware_the_m) to try to stay awake, and general disinterest my topic (accessibility in BA). The introduction was fine. We played a game involving a ball to name all of the types of transportation within the city. But, unlike Bruno Mar’s main issue within his grenade issue, my classmates eyes were nearly closed throughout the rest of the presentation. Why weren’t they open?

One of the key differences about living in State College versus Buenos Aires is the availability of alcohol and beer. You may be wondering, where in the world can beer be more accessible than a town inhabited with 44,000 undergraduates? Buenos Aires is the answer. In the cafe at CUI, the institute where I teach English classes, I stop by every Monday after class to take advantage of the cheaply priced sandwiches, soups, salads, and coffees. I am consistently surprised to see Quilmes, the most common beer in the city named after the Quilmes indigenous group who makes it, right next to the Coca Cola Light and apple juice in the coolers. Not only is it surprising to see it there, but when I find a seat amongst the students on break from learning all kinds of languages, they’re drinking it. It’s 1pm on a Monday!

I must reaffirm that Argentines rarely become incoherent while drinking. I’ve seen only one or two native chichas actually too drunk to stumble to a cab in her 4 inch heels. I think they consume more regularly (like with their salad and strawberry jello at lunch) and less in quantity than people from the US. I probably don’t have the most representative perspective coming from home where beer is for holidays mostly and school where it’s an event, but jeez.

I wish I could learn to control my double takes and the widening of my eyes more regularly. It’s embarrassing to have everyone know when I’m so bemused by the differences in culture.

Also, on an unrelated note, I feel compelled to complain about this small stretch of sidewalk near CUI. Every Monday for the last four weeks I’ve walked over some wobbly stones with liquid underneath. It is common for sidewalks to be either wobbly or wet because many shopkeepers clean their areas in the mornings. But then, during my classes, for the last four weeks, I’ve noticed small splashes of dirty water on the lower half of my jeans. It was only this morning when I finally put together that the splashes are from that obnoxious little path from Corrientes to Junin. I’m so taking a different route next time.

This morning, I was asked by my English class to tell them what I would miss most about Buenos Aires and what part of the culture I want to bring back. The second part was easier for me to answer as I am still struggling against my natural pessimism to answer the first.

I have strangely grown fond of the kisses hello and goodbye. Always on the right cheek and never to be confused for any other emotion than friendship. When someone kisses me as they walk into the room, it sets the tone for comfort. We’re on a level where we can chat or at least not judge each other for our thoughts. You don’t have to kiss people you don’t like. If they are going in for the peck, you shouldn’t deny them. But, if neither initiates, it’s appropriate to skip it.

Another thing I would love to bring back is medialunas, Argentine croissants. Generally with cafe con leche. Actually, all of Il Gufo, the tiny, but wonderful diner-type cafe near my school. Especially my favorite waitress, Romina. She is such a sweetie. When we first arrived, she spoke not one word of English and my friend, Liz, with whom I frequent this diner, spoke not one word of Spanish. Instead of splitting us up, it brought us closer together and now we are always learning from each other.

One of my favorite memories is the time the cafe ran out of sweet medialunas. Romina tried to explain to us that they only had salty ones (ps, they’re exactly the same as the sweet, just with a tiny sprinkle of salt on top). In Spanish the word for salty is salado. We heard ensalado, which of course is salad. We could not figure out why she was talking to us about a medialunas salad. It sounds a bit disgusting. She must have explain the situation 4 times in Spanish and we still were not grasping the differentiation between ensalada and salada. Finally, a customer got up from across the room, came over, and said, “how may I help you?”

Having stories like this is what keeps me grounded. Some days are good. I speak and hear clearly and communication is great. Some days are horrible. The bus driver doesn’t understand me and then the man at the cafe doesn’t understand “quiero un te.” So many times I know what I’m saying is grammatically correct, and they still don’t understand. To make my speech more effective, I try to leave out some letters in the words and pronounce them in what I believe is a horrible Argentine accent. It seems to work. Sometimes I just grunt at the bus driver, and it’s more effective than enunciating the price.

But, what will I miss most about Buenos Aires?

I can tell you it won’t be the buses, it won’t be the quality of the air, and it probably won’t be the food in general. It might be the museums, it might be the art on the streets, it might be the opportunity to be an outsider. It will probably be bread at every meal no matter what, the mixture of pop and songs in Spanish on the radio, and the proximity and excuse to travel to unbelievable places every couple of weeks. It definitely won’t be the weird toilets, the wax paper excuse for a napkin, or the language barrier.

I don’t know what I will miss. I haven’t had the opportunity to miss it yet.