tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44467765880326045042024-03-13T03:07:30.410-07:00la nueva porteñaElizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-53169616756495606942011-03-15T22:54:00.000-07:002011-03-15T22:59:25.491-07:00La Nueva Porteña takes on El SalvadorWow. I just realized I never documented the end of my time in Argentina--that's a little embarrassing. I guess it just all got so busy! In short I had exams (yuck) and went on a 4 day trip to Patagonia with Sofija and Savannah. Our base was El Calafate, and from there we went on various day trips, soaked up the scenery and explored glaciers. Hopefully I can come back at some point in time and add a little more detail.<div><br /></div><div>That being said, la nueva porteña is heading to El Salvador for Spring Break. I'm going with 10 students and 2 professors from a seminar on Liberation Theology I am taking. You can follow my accounts and the accounts of other students in my class on our class blog:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stanfordinelsalvador.blogspot.com/">http://stanfordinelsalvador.blogspot.com/</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-35991240584797139892010-12-09T23:14:00.000-08:002010-12-10T15:57:52.900-08:00THANKSGIVING AT THE BEACH<p class="MsoNormal"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal">I haven’t been too great at updating my blog for the past two weeks—I’ve been on two different trips and managed to have exams in there. I wrote around 40 pages—all in Spanish, of course. I’m yet to update on my Thanksgiving. On Thursday, November 25, about 140 American students invaded the small colonial town (an UNESCO World Heritage Site) of Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. Located just across the Rio de la Plata from Buenos Aires and a 1 to 3 hour Buquebus boat ride (depending on if you take the fast or slow boat), it’s a popular day trip from Buenos Aires. The director of our program, Mario, owns a small boutique hotel in Colonia, so we were all invited to his house for an Argentine attempt at Thanksgiving—there was turkey and stuffing but no mashed potatoes, corn bread or pumpkin pie. Oh, and the Argentine favorite choripan (a chorizo sausage sandwich), obviously. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Post-Thanksgiving lunch we all donned bathing suites and spent the afternoon around the lovely pool (weather aside, I usually try to avoid a bikini post-pigging our on Thanksgiving Day, but I decided to make an exception).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:81.0pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:81.0pt">After a night in Colonia, I headed to the super luxe Uruguayan beach town of Punta del Este, a favorite vacation hot spot of all the wealthy Argentines, with my friends Gaby, Janie and Savannah—we were not the only IFSA kids who decided to spend a few days at the beach; a number of our friends were also at Punta del Este that weekend.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:81.0pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:81.0pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:81.0pt">While the city was close to dead—it’s currently late spring, and the beach will be a crowded mess in a few short weeks—this gave us plenty of room on the beach. We weren’t quite brave enough to test the water, but the sunshine was just perfect. It’s a personal goal to make all of my friends who’ve spent the past few months bundled up in the Northern Hemisphere jealous of my tan. Sorry! Well…not really.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:81.0pt"> </p> <!--EndFragment--><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Here are some pictures from my sunny Thanksgiving Weekend:</p> <!--EndFragment--><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQJ2tmQ7U5I/AAAAAAAAARs/TpCfC-smKb8/s400/P1010111.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549128216611607442" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>At our program director Mario's home in Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></div><div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQJ2tC5T_DI/AAAAAAAAARk/mExY-4WjRHo/s400/P1010108.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549128207117319218" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>My first Thanksgiving spent lounging by the pool.</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQKB0sB04qI/AAAAAAAAASM/B_qTyYEryNE/s400/P1010113.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549140433045873314" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without...choripan? </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQKB1Jol_zI/AAAAAAAAASU/vdv6UM-q6mE/s1600/P1010105.JPG"></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQKB1Jol_zI/AAAAAAAAASU/vdv6UM-q6mE/s1600/P1010105.JPG"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQKB1Jol_zI/AAAAAAAAASU/vdv6UM-q6mE/s400/P1010105.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549140440993103666" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>yumm yumm yumm</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQKBzqCCjGI/AAAAAAAAASE/4m6N_hNXAdI/s400/P1010114.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549140415330028642" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Gotta have the facturas</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQKBzFPNfvI/AAAAAAAAAR8/YvuXiI-Q1CI/s400/P1010123.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549140405453160178" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sunset on the beach in Colonia</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQKBy_wUKaI/AAAAAAAAAR0/UiIhtVjEOPU/s1600/P1010135.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQKBy_wUKaI/AAAAAAAAAR0/UiIhtVjEOPU/s400/P1010135.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549140403981396386" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Soaking up the sun in Punta del Este with our new Paraguayan friends. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa2jZL9vI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/z2xczqw6O_Q/s1600/P1010141.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa2jZL9vI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/z2xczqw6O_Q/s400/P1010141.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548956846645835506" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Returning from the beach with our $5 towels</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa2VqRv4I/AAAAAAAAAQs/o5gTifMmLig/s1600/P1010192.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa2VqRv4I/AAAAAAAAAQs/o5gTifMmLig/s400/P1010192.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548956842959421314" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Even though Punta del Este was pretty much dead in terms of tourism, we managed to meet a number of locals and had two fun nights out on the town.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa2FSrV2I/AAAAAAAAAQk/Hq8IQWdcCM4/s1600/P1010204.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa2FSrV2I/AAAAAAAAAQk/Hq8IQWdcCM4/s400/P1010204.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548956838565468002" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>On our last day in Punta del Este we went to the historical hotel Casa Pueblo. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa1tZvfaI/AAAAAAAAAQc/imqkS-qEB_U/s1600/P1010215.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa1tZvfaI/AAAAAAAAAQc/imqkS-qEB_U/s400/P1010215.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548956832152649122" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Doesn't Casa Pueblo look like some sort to sand castel? </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa1VDQjcI/AAAAAAAAAQU/znN8Z3SnncE/s1600/P1010222.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TQHa1VDQjcI/AAAAAAAAAQU/znN8Z3SnncE/s400/P1010222.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548956825615896002" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>With Punta del Este's emblematic hand sculpture. </i></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-65808411763595121062010-12-09T23:05:00.000-08:002010-12-10T13:52:14.847-08:00SNOW IN THE SUMMER--IT'S GOTTA BE PATAGONIAA little over a week ago I was lying on a beach in Punta del Este, Uruguay soaking up the summer sun, and while I’m currently on a airplane heading back to sunny Buenos Aires, I’ve spend the past four days hiking and playing around in the snow in El Calfate, right in the heart of Patagonia.<div><br /></div><div>I’ve spend the past four days with my girlfriends Sofija and Savannah getting to know one of Argentina’s most famous regions.<br /><br /></div><div>On Monday took an Aerolineas Argentinas (the infamous nationalized Argentine Airline) from Buenos Aires to El Calafate. I’ve taken six Aerolineas Argentinas flights since I’ve been here in Argentina, and Monday’s flight was the only one to arrive on time. I landed around 7 PM, and, upon meeting up with Sofija and Savannah had plenty of time to explore the adorable town of El Calafate since the sun doesn’t set until after 10 PM.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span>El Calafate served as our base in the region from where we took three day trips. On Tuesday two the three of us did our best to bundle up and headed to Perrito Moreno Glacier. While it isn’t the region’s largest glacier, it is isn’t most famous (and most touristy). We viewed the glacier up close from various viewing docks and then took a boat ride to get a closer view. It was great, but we all agreed that the whole experience was a bit touristy. Still numb from our day’s excursions, we returned to El Calafate and purchased more sweaters, gloves and hats.<br /><br /></div><div>A little more prepared to brace the cold (I still can’t get over the fact that this is summer weather), on Wednesday we headed north to El Chalten to hike and view Mt. Fitz Roy—the mountain featured on the clothing line Patagonia’s symbol. We hiked uphill to a viewing point for a little over two hours only to find what we were afraid of—we weren’t going to be able to see Fitz Roy because the day was so overcast. However, even though we didn’t get to see Fitz Roy, we did have a pleasant surprise—SNOW! Given that we’ve been experiencing 90 degree weather in BA lately, the snow definitely helped us get into the Christmas Spirit.<br /><br /></div><div>Today, Thursday, proved to be our best day yet. We woke up at a painfully early 6 AM and took a bus to a loading dock where we boarded a boat to Estancia Cristina. On the way to the Estancia, we got up close and personal with Upsala Glacier, the region’s largest glacier. Upon arriving at the estancia we boarded 4-wheel drive vehicles that took us to a viewing point high up in the mountains where we had a spectacular view of the glacier. From there we hiked 9 miles through the Valle de los Fosiles in order to get back to the Estancia. The views were stunning, but we were greeted by both snow and rain. Not the most pleasant hiking conditions, but it was an experience nonetheless.<br /><br /></div><div>After three days of hiking and baring temperatures far colder than I’m accustomed to, our bodies are sore, but it was a great last trip in Argentina—right now we’re on our way back and I’ve got three days until I head home to the States! Patagonia was a great exclamations point on what has been a fabulous five months—after all, it would have been a shame to live here for five months and not get to know one of Argentina’s most famous (and rightfully so) regions.<br /><div><br /></div><div>(photos to come) </div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-28180757448756123162010-11-21T17:29:00.000-08:002010-11-21T18:34:47.715-08:00POLO TIME<div>It's spring time, and spring in Argentina just without polo. Particularly within the upper class, polo is a big deal here in Argentina. "Polo" clothing is everywhere, and, right up there with the UK and the US, Argentina is known for some of the world's best polo. </div><div><br /></div><div>This weekend and the next two weekends marks the Palermo polo tournament, one of the most important tournaments in Argentine polo, and my host mom took me (and her 15 year old grandson) to the field to catch a few games. It's a beautiful sport to watch, but after watching two games in the blazing heat I was pretty exhausted. </div><div><br /></div><div>Regardless, I really enjoyed getting to spend the afternoon at the polo field with my host mom (she knows quite a lot about Polo)--although I would have been perfectly happy only attending one game instead of two :D</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKW1jGasI/AAAAAAAAAQM/wbt47cNR-CY/s1600/P1010043.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKW1jGasI/AAAAAAAAAQM/wbt47cNR-CY/s400/P1010043.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542183310136339138" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That red thing with the "movistar" sign wrapped around it is one of the two goal posts. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKWSusD5I/AAAAAAAAAQE/3pIVcqRM06M/s1600/P1010051.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKWSusD5I/AAAAAAAAAQE/3pIVcqRM06M/s400/P1010051.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542183300789702546" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Pilará contra Chapa Uno</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKVrOqxwI/AAAAAAAAAP8/dzJTdrUqAMk/s1600/P1010052.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKVrOqxwI/AAAAAAAAAP8/dzJTdrUqAMk/s400/P1010052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542183290186417922" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Love watching the horses race down the field....and I have no idea how the polo players manage to make contact with the ball while maintaining a gallop. I'm impressed.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKVPmYXdI/AAAAAAAAAP0/NnCDtQ-XR28/s1600/P1010057.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKVPmYXdI/AAAAAAAAAP0/NnCDtQ-XR28/s400/P1010057.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542183282769681874" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I wish this one weren't blurry. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKU105NCI/AAAAAAAAAPs/vnGMh-Hk_vc/s1600/P1010067.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOnKU105NCI/AAAAAAAAAPs/vnGMh-Hk_vc/s400/P1010067.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542183275851232290" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Clara got us great seats--I'm definitely not going to complain about the third row at the center of the field! </i></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-62834247648668684962010-11-21T15:09:00.000-08:002010-11-21T17:21:47.476-08:00WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUNDBuenos Aires is pretty big on fairs. Each neighborhood seems to be transformed by artisans every Saturday and Sunday. Recoleta (my barrio) has a fair at the cemetery, Palermo (my old barrio) has a fair at Plaza Serrano. The most well known, however, is in San Telmo, Buenos Aires' most bohemian neighborhood.<br /><br />Over four months ago on my first Sunday in Buenos Aires, I went to the San Telmo fair with my parents and little brother. Sadly, today was my last Sunday in Buenos Aire (while I still have three weeks left in Argentina, I will be out of twon for the next three weekends), but I managed to enjoy it by returning to the San Telmo Fair for the first time since that rainy Sunday in July when I went with my family. In a stark contrast to my first trip to San Telmo, today was a beautiful sunny Sunday. <br /><br />Today Robyn, Victoria, Janie and I mozied around the different stands that displayed everything from jewelry and photographs to antiques and puppets. Robyn and Janie snacked one vegetarian burritos while I got my hand read (for free) from some man selling necklaces. The fair goes on for about 15 blocks and culminates in a plaza which sells mainly antiques, and we walked the whole distance twice so that we could make sure we got the very best.<br /><br />All in all, it was a lovely afternoon--quite peaceful and relaxing (and really helped me forget about the huge work load I have looming over myself right now). Neither the company nor the weather could have been better. It was a fabulous (and sentimental) way to spend my last Sunday in BA.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmy5sKEtCI/AAAAAAAAAPk/emdTFPKgXL8/s1600/P1010096.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmy5sKEtCI/AAAAAAAAAPk/emdTFPKgXL8/s400/P1010096.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542157520631804962" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Various stands scattered down Defensa St. where the San Telmo Fair is locate</i>d.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmy5X8SdqI/AAAAAAAAAPc/K54XIz6qaYM/s1600/P1010098.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmy5X8SdqI/AAAAAAAAAPc/K54XIz6qaYM/s400/P1010098.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542157515205277346" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Tango dancers are a must at a Buenos Aires fair. This scens was special because multiple spectators joined in. </i></div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmyAcmDnAI/AAAAAAAAAPU/e0vFMBQVS5U/s1600/P1010100.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmyAcmDnAI/AAAAAAAAAPU/e0vFMBQVS5U/s400/P1010100.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542156537201662978" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A stand in the antique section of the fair. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmyAOEylKI/AAAAAAAAAPM/lgZ1vUOhek8/s1600/P1010101.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmyAOEylKI/AAAAAAAAAPM/lgZ1vUOhek8/s400/P1010101.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542156533304038562" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A charming little church we stumbled upon. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmxHgLjJ4I/AAAAAAAAAPE/cLhzyL5Slwg/s1600/P1010102.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TOmxHgLjJ4I/AAAAAAAAAPE/cLhzyL5Slwg/s400/P1010102.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542155558911682434" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Loads and loads of musicians everywhere. </i></div><br /><br /><br /></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-57532128267388044672010-11-11T17:44:00.000-08:002010-11-11T18:06:29.778-08:00FOUR DOWN, ONE TO GOI don't have anything all that profound to say, but I realized something--yesterday was the four month anniversary of the day I arrived in Argentina. Tomorrow marks exactly one month left in my time here. It's amazing how fast time has flown by. I've come to feel so comfortable here in Buenos Aires (I guess that's what happens after four months)--geographically, I feel like I know Buenos Aires even better than I know Houston--probably a result of walking/bussing/directing taxi drivers. <br /><br />I will definitely excited to see friends and family (and to eat Mexican food for the first time in 5 months), but I can't believe my time here in BA is coming to a close (at least for now). I have so much to do within the next month. Here's a running list:<br /><br />-Visit the Most Dangerous Zoo in the World and hold a baby tiger<br />-Hang out at Tierra Santa--what has got to be the only Jesus-themed theme park in the world<br />-Buy a pair of leather boots<br />-Return to the San Telmo Market <br />-Attend a polo game<br />-Take a tour of El Teatro Colón<br />-Christmas Shopping!!!<br />-Stock up on Malbec to bring back to friends and family in the States<br />-Visit the charming historical city of Colonia del Sacramento and the posh beach town of Punta del Este, both in Uruguay<br />-Travel to Patagonia<br /><br />Quite the list--so many things to do, so little time. Oh, and I should probably study some so that I can pass all of my classes. These next two weeks are going to be miserable work-wise!Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-63776981519605779062010-11-07T19:49:00.000-08:002010-11-10T09:42:14.803-08:00IT'S ABOUT TIME WE ARRIVED IN LATIN AMERICA<div> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; 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mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; 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mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia">Because of my birthday (and limited internet connection) I didn’t have a chance to write about my trip to Northwest Argentina, to the regions of Salta, Jujuy and Tucuman from October 29 to November 3. I went with my two friends Janie and Lambros, and we had a spectacular time exploring the region in a rented car (moderately dangerous considering none of us had ever driven a manual car before—don’t worry though, Lambros watched you tube videos on how to drive stick before our departure). While Argentina is one of the least indigenous Latin American countries (93% of the country is white), the Northwest is known for being the country's most heavily indigenous region while also quite well known for it’s stunning natural landscape, often compared to Arizona and other parts of the United States’ Southwest. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia">While physically located in South America, culturally, Buenos Aires is located somewhere in between Italy and Spain. You can eat pasta in most restaurants in Buenos Aires, and you are much more likely to hear French or Italian when walking the streets than Quecha. The European influence here in Buenos Aires is astounding, and you often forget that you are indeed in South America. It’s easy to see why this city is often referred to as the Paris of Latin America. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13pt;">However, as Lambros pointed out one day, on this trip we were, for the first time, visiting "Latin America." In Northwest Argentina I felt so much closer to Peru or Mexico than I did to Buenos Aires. The indigenous roots, the traditional artisanal crafts, the colonial (but not imperialistic) European influence—all of these things made us feel far away from Buenos Aires (and Europe). We even ran into Day of the Dead celebrations in Jujuy--something that I can't imagine seeing at Recoleta </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;">Cemetery</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13pt;">. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia">The three of us really bonded on our six-day trip in Northwest Argentina, and we loved getting to see a new side of the country that we have come to love. Oh, and the killer views definitely didn’t hurt.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:13.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Georgia"><br /></span></p> <!--EndFragment--><p></p> <!--EndFragment--></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiQYmFHugI/AAAAAAAAAOs/uDS7zzl2cBo/s1600/P1000516.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiQYmFHugI/AAAAAAAAAOs/uDS7zzl2cBo/s400/P1000516.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537334494065310210" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>La Iglesia San Francisco in Salta. Can you note the Spanish Colonial influence? </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiQX2VdTOI/AAAAAAAAAOk/tyYp56gRgmY/s1600/P1000532.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiQX2VdTOI/AAAAAAAAAOk/tyYp56gRgmY/s400/P1000532.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537334481248931042" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>La Catedral de Salta lit up at dusk. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiQXfNPIYI/AAAAAAAAAOc/2DCCY941s64/s1600/IMG_3009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiQXfNPIYI/AAAAAAAAAOc/2DCCY941s64/s400/IMG_3009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537334475040432514" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Per the suggestion of a fellow hiker, we took Matrix-esque photos at La Garganta del Diablo*</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiLImGsF_I/AAAAAAAAAOU/XKpM9lPQiuc/s1600/IMG_3014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiLImGsF_I/AAAAAAAAAOU/XKpM9lPQiuc/s400/IMG_3014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537328721635842034" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Janie and I at la Garganta del Diablo in la Quebrada de las Conchas. </i></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiLICxOAtI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Siyq9xM0abk/s1600/IMG_3067.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiLICxOAtI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Siyq9xM0abk/s400/IMG_3067.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537328712150549202" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Janie and I dancin' by the side of the road in the Quebrada de las Conchas--on the drive between Salta (la ciudad) and Cafayate. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiLHoJH0cI/AAAAAAAAAOE/GeSZeVtEww8/s1600/IMG_3075.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiLHoJH0cI/AAAAAAAAAOE/GeSZeVtEww8/s400/IMG_3075.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537328705003049410" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Soakin' up the scenery at los Castillos in La Quebrada de las Conchas*</i></div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiGw_jc3sI/AAAAAAAAAN8/-rrd7Anga5g/s1600/P1000616.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiGw_jc3sI/AAAAAAAAAN8/-rrd7Anga5g/s400/P1000616.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537323918103994050" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Wine at Bodega Nani in Cafayate. The province of Salta--most specifically the area surrounding Cafayate--is known for a white wine called torrontés. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiGwPWN3cI/AAAAAAAAAN0/QZgBWGo91ho/s1600/IMG_3103.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiGwPWN3cI/AAAAAAAAAN0/QZgBWGo91ho/s400/IMG_3103.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537323905163582914" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Cacti at the Quilmes Ruines in Tucuman. The Quilmes were a pre-Incan tribe who lived in the region up until the 17th Century when the Spaniards defeated them and forced them to move to the province of Buenos Aires where authorities could more easily control them. Many of the Quilmes people died on the 600 mile treck. Those who did survive the migration refused to reproduce and the tribe died out. Argentina's famous Quilmes beer has the same name because it is manufactured in the new Quilmes outside of Buenos Aires*</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiGveH3yBI/AAAAAAAAANs/i32SUO-D-tI/s1600/P1000821.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNiGveH3yBI/AAAAAAAAANs/i32SUO-D-tI/s400/P1000821.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537323891950077970" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A local woman in Humuhuaca selling plastic floral wreathes outside of the cemetery for El Día de los Muertos. Now THIS is Latin America. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNh5TZcJsDI/AAAAAAAAANk/ugve0JCpRAo/s1600/P1000818.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNh5TZcJsDI/AAAAAAAAANk/ugve0JCpRAo/s400/P1000818.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537309116005462066" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Flower wreaths for El Día de los Muertos. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNh5SQiNP8I/AAAAAAAAANc/-yuX0790Vlg/s1600/IMG_3188.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNh5SQiNP8I/AAAAAAAAANc/-yuX0790Vlg/s400/IMG_3188.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537309096435072962" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Exploring the vineyard at Bodega Colombé* </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNh5RiDKqzI/AAAAAAAAANU/5QuujDqFTMI/s1600/IMG_3215.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNh5RiDKqzI/AAAAAAAAANU/5QuujDqFTMI/s400/IMG_3215.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537309083956849458" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Janie, Lambros and I at Bodega Colombé, Argentina's oldest and the world's highest vineyard*</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3ZA9kRPI/AAAAAAAAANM/ccVIOMeFR8E/s1600/IMG_3228.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3ZA9kRPI/AAAAAAAAANM/ccVIOMeFR8E/s400/IMG_3228.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537025538513978610" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Being silly in El Parque Nacional de los Cardones outside of Cachi, Salta*</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3Y8xu7OI/AAAAAAAAANE/j1jNrIfsagU/s1600/P1000719.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3Y8xu7OI/AAAAAAAAANE/j1jNrIfsagU/s400/P1000719.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537025537390603490" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I couldn't leave our hotel in Cachi without a picture in this fabulous hat. </i></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3YyTBiiI/AAAAAAAAAM8/8A48gGeQtIE/s1600/P1000880.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3YyTBiiI/AAAAAAAAAM8/8A48gGeQtIE/s400/P1000880.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537025534577445410" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>You've gotta take optical illusion photos in the Salt Flats. One with coke was an obvious choice for me. </i></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3Yt2T9RI/AAAAAAAAAM0/7P7Wcu3palk/s1600/P1000909.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3Yt2T9RI/AAAAAAAAAM0/7P7Wcu3palk/s400/P1000909.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537025533383275794" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A wild vicuña that we spotted on the side of the road near the salt flats. </i></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3YT2bcTI/AAAAAAAAAMs/qcxvIg9RdPs/s1600/jujuy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNd3YT2bcTI/AAAAAAAAAMs/qcxvIg9RdPs/s400/jujuy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537025526404444466" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Artesanal crafts in Purmamarca, Jujuy*</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">*All starred photos were taken by Janie. </div></div></div></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-63627759629431376712010-11-07T17:55:00.000-08:002010-12-10T17:33:18.965-08:00TWENTY ONE IN ARGENTINA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNderKPzNKI/AAAAAAAAAMk/b6NkA3Pjj20/s1600/whole+group+at+dinner.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Most people probably don't dream of celebrating their 21st birthday in a foreign country. It's the type of birthday this is much more meaningful when celebrated on U.S. soil, but I certainly managed to make the most (along with the help of my friends) of an Argentine twenty-first birthday. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I convinced all of my friends that my twenty-first was reason enough for three days of celebration. On my actual birthday (Thursday, November 4) five of my closest friends and I went out to dinner at a French/Japanese fusion restaurant called To. Friday night a big group of friends joined me at the bar Congo followed by a failed clubbing attempt. Finally a 6 AM (I guess we are technically on to Saturday now) trip to our favorite early-morning locale: Mc Donald's. And then on Saturday Gaby, Janie and I went to the Black Eyed Peas concert with our French friends Aurdrey, Nath, Florian and Mateu. It was an unforgetable weekend.</span></span></p> </span></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNderKPzNKI/AAAAAAAAAMk/b6NkA3Pjj20/s1600/whole+group+at+dinner.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNderKPzNKI/AAAAAAAAAMk/b6NkA3Pjj20/s1600/whole+group+at+dinner.jpg"></a></span></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNderKPzNKI/AAAAAAAAAMk/b6NkA3Pjj20/s1600/whole+group+at+dinner.jpg"><p class="MsoNormal" style="display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >My favorite part (and, quite possibly, my favorite Buenos Aires memory) was Thursday night dinner at To. We were the obnoxious Americans (the "photowhores" as Gaby likes to say) taking loads and loads of pictures right in the middle of the snazzy restaurant, but we couldn't have cared less. We made friends with the whole wait staff (who were in costume--they had a blast the week prior when celebrating Halloween). We pretty much took over the entire restaurant and stayed way past the hour when all of the other customers had left. We had a dance party with all of the the waiters and ended up staying until 2:30 in the morning. It was a blast--and a night that I will not soon forget. Such a great way to turn twenty-one (even if it wasn't on U.S. soil)!</span></span></p></a><p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNderKPzNKI/AAAAAAAAAMk/b6NkA3Pjj20/s400/whole+group+at+dinner.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536998362453324962" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The group at To: Gaby, Vic, me, Robyn, Jimmy and Janie. </i></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNderHBh0zI/AAAAAAAAAMc/Br8S7lVqctQ/s1600/kiss+train.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNderHBh0zI/AAAAAAAAAMc/Br8S7lVqctQ/s400/kiss+train.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536998361588159282" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Kiss train--I'm so lucky to be surrounded by such beautiful, fun-loving ladies!</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeqlSRdVI/AAAAAAAAAMU/53AwBjUUwDc/s1600/looking+beautiful.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeqlSRdVI/AAAAAAAAAMU/53AwBjUUwDc/s400/looking+beautiful.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536998352531584338" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Birthday love!</i></div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeStHzMHI/AAAAAAAAAMM/i_DmfNzRPGE/s1600/wait+staff+party.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeStHzMHI/AAAAAAAAAMM/i_DmfNzRPGE/s400/wait+staff+party.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536997942318280818" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Dance party with the waiters--LOVED their costumes (I even managed to steal a few accessories as souvenirs). </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeSXqOgBI/AAAAAAAAAME/B7HkAzlpzLA/s1600/deb+balls.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeSXqOgBI/AAAAAAAAAME/B7HkAzlpzLA/s400/deb+balls.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536997936557096978" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Texan debutants practice their bows. </i></div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeSd98VmI/AAAAAAAAAL8/CCXK7kZT5o4/s1600/friday+night.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeSd98VmI/AAAAAAAAAL8/CCXK7kZT5o4/s400/friday+night.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536997938250405474" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Friday night at Congo</i>. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeRiNk2mI/AAAAAAAAAL0/pbUYRHgyyZY/s1600/P1000984.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeRiNk2mI/AAAAAAAAAL0/pbUYRHgyyZY/s400/P1000984.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536997922209847906" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Saturday night at the Black Eyed Peas concert. Their was a random station giving out lime green and blue wigs. We clearly needed them. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeRYrcj4I/AAAAAAAAALs/TOvx8kBWujg/s1600/P1000976.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TNdeRYrcj4I/AAAAAAAAALs/TOvx8kBWujg/s400/P1000976.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536997919650779010" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Gaby, Florian, Janie, I and Nath rockin' the wigs. </i></div><div><br /><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-61576856227283223572010-10-27T10:09:00.000-07:002010-10-27T13:55:59.552-07:00GOOD AND BAD HISTORY IN ARGENTINA<div style="text-align: left;">Today is a national holiday in Argentina—El Día del Censo Nacional. All businesses are required to close from 0:00 to 20:00 because everyone must be at home waiting for the censistas who come door to door in order to ensure accuracy.</div><p class="MsoNormal">Like in the states the census is typically conducted once every 10 years, but it’s been 20 years since a census was properly conducted because everyone forgot about the census in the wake of the 2001 financial crisis.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Because of the census today was supposed to be a historical day, but unfortunately, it’s going to be remembered for more than just the cenus. Early this morning former President Nestor Kirchner (president from 2003 to 2007) who was also a leading contender for the 2011 presidential elections and the wife of current president Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner died of a heart attack.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you’d like to read more the Wall Street Journal published a pretty good article this morning: <a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304173704575578072298219914.html?mod=WSJ_newsreel_world">http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304173704575578072298219914.html?mod=WSJ_newsreel_world</a></p><p class="MsoNormal">In spite of the huge loss, government officials insisted that the census go on. Tonight at 8 PM once the census is officially over, there will be a massive demonstration at the famous Plaza de Mayo in front of La Casa Rosada—Argentina’s version of the White House. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Fuerza Cristina--that's the phrase of the day. </p><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 387px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TMh34byY1gI/AAAAAAAAALM/sDAZxPjcJlI/s400/Screen+shot+2010-10-27+at+3.59.19+PM.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532803953640134146" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Home page of the Argentine newspaper Página 12. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 378px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TMh34PhG-DI/AAAAAAAAALE/cxSufMx4GAA/s400/Screen+shot+2010-10-27+at+3.56.48+PM.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532803950346434610" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>La Nación. </i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 353px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TMh33znMIlI/AAAAAAAAAK8/7HBHJRYUT4Y/s400/Screen+shot+2010-10-27+at+3.54.24+PM.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532803942855746130" /> <!--EndFragment--></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Clarín.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-63086019459200259682010-10-25T15:46:00.000-07:002010-10-25T16:23:18.563-07:00ARGENTINA HAPPENS, RECOVERING FROM FIACAMy apologies for disappearing for the past month. It's a result of what we down here in Argentina call "fiaca." It roughly translates to laziness. My fiaca was in relation to this blog, in part because my life has pretty much spun out of control over the past month (although it's slowly starting to normalize a bit). So, here we go, I'm going to try to summarize the past month in a few paragraphs so that I don't bore you too much (although I am one to ramble)...<div><br /></div><div>UBA, UBA, UBA. Wow. What an experience. So I've already talked about the student strike a great deal, but the whole situation continued to get worse until things pretty much exploded in the sixth week of the strike when students stormed the ministry of education and tried to take over the building. Multiple students were arrested and three were injured. Basically, this act of violence gave the students the TV time they so badly desired (the government and the media had made an agreement to not avoid giving students media attention), so they finally, after 45 days, lifted the toma. </div><div><br /></div><div>The only problem is that in a 14 week long semester you can't just miss 6 weeks of class and pretend nothing happened. The administration made the decision to lengthen the semester until the end of December (past Christmas and way past the date of the return flight to the U.S. that I booked months ago). </div><div><br /></div><div>IFSA (my study abroad program) created a "Plan B" for us so that we will hopefully still be able to get credit from our home universities (although I'm still not 100% sure because Stanford is being difficult and won't give me concrete answers). Two make up for one UBA class you have two IFSA options: 1. Take two 3 unit classes that each meat for four hours a week (these classes cram 12 weeks worth of material down into two weeks) or 2. Do independent research and write a 20 page paper. For most students this wasn't choosing one of these options wasn't the biggest deal, but I was one of 8 students taking two UBA classes, so it totally and completely changed my schedule. I am now taking two of the new emergency "Plan B" IFSA classes (Historia Argentina and Historia Latinoamericana) and writing an independent research paper on the Social Geography of Latin America. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because of now lengthened semester and the uncertainty of wether or not I would be able to receive credit for my UBA classes, I had to drop both of them. I know it wasn't failure or anything on my part because the whole situation was completely out of my control, but it sure felt like I was failing. I choose to deal with the whole logistical mess of doing a non-Stanford program so that I could take classes with local students, and now, after 4 weeks of class and 6 weeks of strike, I'm stuck taking classes with all Americans. Yes, I did get a few weeks of class with Argentines, but regardless, it's frustrating to have something I've wanted so badly for so long taken way from me. I'm kind of (I lie...really) Type A, and I don't deal very well with people messing with my plans (particularily when they are four years in the making). </div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, so here goes my language, but I really think it's necessary: Yea, so I'm pissed off at Argentina and all of the strikes. I'm pissed off at the selfish minority of studente from the Patido Obrero who so selfishly took over the university and screwed up not only my semester but also the semesters of so many Argentine students who have a genuine desire to learn. They waisted SIX WEEKS of our lives. Yes, I get they were fighting for something they believe in, but is taking over the university buildings and preventing anyone from learning really the most effective way to achieve change? By preventing classes from occurring the only people they are really hurting are themselves! But, shit happens. Argentina happens. This is a reality here. Strikes happen all the time. Yea, this one did get a little out of hand--to historical proportions--but that's part of life here. It's something that very few foreigners really get to experience. In some ways I'm really quite fortunate to be able to experience Argentina--both the positive and the negative. So while I may not be able to complete one of my goals--taking classes with Argentines--at least I'm getting to complete another--getting to truly and completely know Argentina. </div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-39514250021515577812010-09-27T15:45:00.000-07:002010-09-27T18:50:50.942-07:00HEAVY ON THE WINE, LIGHT ON THE BLUE<div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I just got back from Mendoza this morning, and it wasn’t an easy trip—a 16 hour bus ride there and an 18 hour bus ride back (the trip is only supposed to be about 14 hours, but my experiences tell me delays are pretty common). Our group of six girls (Gaby, Francesca, Robyn, Janie, Victoria and I ) arrived in Mendoza early Friday afternoon. After checking into to Monkey Hostel, Gaby, Francesca and I split up with the other girls in order to go paragliding.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The whole paragliding experience was not nearly as scary as I had expected. You did get a bit of an adrenaline rush when jumping off the side of the mountain, but once up in the air, paragliding was quite relaxing. It moved fairly slowly, and I got to soak up the beautify mountains (I think they were the Andes, but they could have been the Sierras) that surrounded me. Approximately every minute my paragliding instructor who I was strapped to kept asking me if I was okay. It seemed a little strange, but upon my arrival safely on the ground I found out just way he was doing this—about 1 in 10 first-time paragliders get sick. I was fine, but my friend Gaby was not so fortunate…I’ll leave it at that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Saturday was my favorite day since I arrived here in Argentina. The six of us girls plus Mike and Adam (two other IFSA boys) and Flal and Nath (two French boys I met here in Buenos Aires) all headed out of the city toward Maipu where we rented bikes at Mr. Hugo’s. From there we biked down a beautiful tree-lined street (mountain views off to the sided, of course) as we went from vineyard to vineyard. The highlight was our lunch at Bodega Vistantes where we sat on a patio next to a lake with views of the vineyard in the distance. Great food and great company!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Totally and completely exhausted post-biking tour of the vineyards we got back to the hostel around 8 PM and everyone pretty much crashed immediately. We then had a pretty lazy Sunday before getting on the bus at 4:00 PM. I absolutely LOVED Mendoza—it was a nice break from the big city—but come Sunday I was ready to get back home to BA. It’s amazing how going a way for a few days makes you realize just how at home you really are. I sure have fallen hard for Buenos Aires! </p> <!--EndFragment--> </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEtk6nk5yI/AAAAAAAAAK0/kd-n_l33Kec/s1600/P1000325.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEtk6nk5yI/AAAAAAAAAK0/kd-n_l33Kec/s400/P1000325.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521744730366732066" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That's Francesca with either the Sierras or the Andes in the background--we weren't quite sure...</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqh3442cI/AAAAAAAAAKs/f4wSEtjsvRs/s1600/P1000343.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqh3442cI/AAAAAAAAAKs/f4wSEtjsvRs/s400/P1000343.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521741379559545282" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>There goes Gaby! </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqg5M2QHI/AAAAAAAAAKk/6nv7nT2xh9U/s1600/P1000344.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqg5M2QHI/AAAAAAAAAKk/6nv7nT2xh9U/s400/P1000344.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521741362731827314" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A picture of paragliding from taken from my paragliding contraption. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqgYVm7eI/AAAAAAAAAKc/3xu4bASu0l4/s1600/P1000354.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqgYVm7eI/AAAAAAAAAKc/3xu4bASu0l4/s400/P1000354.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521741353910201826" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Biking with Gaby, mountains in the background--a pretty impressive view. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqgJsm0cI/AAAAAAAAAKU/tMaxjOaYPq8/s1600/P1000356.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqgJsm0cI/AAAAAAAAAKU/tMaxjOaYPq8/s400/P1000356.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521741349980131778" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The beautiful tree-line road that we biked down to get from bodega to bodega.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqf900iVI/AAAAAAAAAKM/AmuxjAPkCbA/s1600/P1000357.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEqf900iVI/AAAAAAAAAKM/AmuxjAPkCbA/s400/P1000357.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521741346793359698" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The group at the Bodega Familia di Tommaso.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj9XHrYNI/AAAAAAAAAKE/EyS0K0dag-A/s1600/P1000359.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj9XHrYNI/AAAAAAAAAKE/EyS0K0dag-A/s400/P1000359.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521734155218149586" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>This vault like-thing was previously used to store huge quantities of wine while it underwent the transformation from grape juice to wine. It's now used to store wine bottles at the perfect temperature--just like a huge wine vault. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj9NG12nI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/W9fF_AxCfHk/s1600/P1000368.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj9NG12nI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/W9fF_AxCfHk/s400/P1000368.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521734152530287218" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Wine at the Bodega Familia di Tommaso. They export a malbec to the U.S. where it costs $25 USD. Here the same bottle costs 25 argentine pesos (1/4 of the price)! </i></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj81hnvoI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/cKdT1I-Ln3o/s1600/P1000381.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj81hnvoI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/cKdT1I-Ln3o/s400/P1000381.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521734146200157826" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Empanadas--the best reward after a long bike ride. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj8Xk199I/AAAAAAAAAJs/Q7dQv9Ss5F8/s1600/P1000382.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj8Xk199I/AAAAAAAAAJs/Q7dQv9Ss5F8/s400/P1000382.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521734138160609234" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Steak drenched in a malbec sauce @ Vistantes Bodega. The best meal I've had here in Argentina, possibly in my life. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj8C_juwI/AAAAAAAAAJk/pemDMVfXlOA/s1600/P1000412.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TKEj8C_juwI/AAAAAAAAAJk/pemDMVfXlOA/s400/P1000412.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521734132635515650" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The girls post-vineyard tour. </i></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-77027492943624035912010-09-21T16:35:00.000-07:002010-09-21T17:12:01.943-07:00SPRING HAS SPRUNGToday is both <i>El Día del Estudiante</i> and the first day of Spring, so that means everyone heads out to the <i>aire libre, </i>takes in the sun and enjoys one of Buenos Aires' many parks. I was origionaly supposed to have a midterm today, but my professor e-mailed us about 20 hours before the exam to tell us it would have to be postponed because of the student strike which is still going on. Typical. I only wish I'd known sooner so that I hadn't spend so much time studying. But oh well, that's how things are at UBA. We were going to have our midterm in spite of the holiday, but since it was canceled at the last minute I got to participate in the festivities. <div><br /></div><div>I went to the ecological park located near Puerto Madero and enjoyed the beautiful day. It was packed with groups of friends running around, laughing, chatting and snacking on the picnics they had prepared. The whole thing just had really great energy, and it made me happy seeing so many people enjoying the company of their friends on <i>El Día del Estudiante. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>As for the first day of spring, there aren't two many corresponding activities, but it is a tradition to give your friends/loved ones flowers, so everyone was walking around with bouquets in tow, so this only added to the positive energy. Today was a lovely day--two holidays in one! If only I could bring back these traditions to the U.S.! </div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-46367596518351250952010-09-17T23:11:00.000-07:002010-09-18T09:51:06.086-07:00RAVEWINDTUNNELCIRCUSBLUENIGHTBOLICHEFUERZABRUT<div><div>Last night I went to Fuerza Bruta with a my Gaby, Janie and Robyn. I don't really know how to describe Fuerza Bruta--it's some sort of intense theatrical experience that began here in Buenos Aires. The whole audience is standing up for the entire performance. The stage moves during the performance, pushing around the audience. It's the type of thing that can't really be adequately described in words--you really just have to experience it. Nevertheless, Gaby, Janie, Robyn and I did our best to describe the experience in word. We came up with some sort of modern, urban circus. </div><div><br /></div><div>We made the deliberate decision to go on a Friday night because on a Friday the show turns into a boliche (argentine word for a "dance club") at intermission and at the end of the show. It's such an intense experience to go from the show straight into a dance club. The two run together fluidly because the cast comes down and dances with you, so you literally become a part of the show. The transition from show to dance club is flawless. </div><div><br /></div><div>During the boliche part we managed to make friends with multiple members of the cast (aided by Robyn's trippy neon striped fishnet tights that seemed to attract everyone), and we talked to them about the history of the show, the creative process, and what it like to be in the show. They even invited us to come to the cast after-party, but following the intense experience that was Fuerza Bruta we didn't really have the energy for another boliche. They did however tell us that if we want to go back to call them up and they'll get us free tickets. We are definitely hitting them up there. Oh, and the plan is to go shopping for the brightest, most intense rave costumes before hand so that we can insure all of us are invited up on stage to dance. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and one last thing, Fuerza Bruta has a troupe in NYC right now, so if you are anywhere near New York, GO! You will love it. I promise you that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since describing Fuerza Bruta in words is near impossible, here are some pictures I took during the show: </div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRigZ1UZeI/AAAAAAAAAJc/Qso9dVVqhp0/s1600/P1000227.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRigZ1UZeI/AAAAAAAAAJc/Qso9dVVqhp0/s400/P1000227.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518143752265557474" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Gaby, Janie and I under the blue lights of Fuerza Bruta anxiously awaiting the show's inception. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRif4WgcxI/AAAAAAAAAJU/koI3xEMW6YI/s1600/P1000236.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRif4WgcxI/AAAAAAAAAJU/koI3xEMW6YI/s400/P1000236.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518143743277953810" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Man walkin'</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRifa0Vi2I/AAAAAAAAAJM/2TplHe3IoZc/s1600/P1000240.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRifa0Vi2I/AAAAAAAAAJM/2TplHe3IoZc/s400/P1000240.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518143735350004578" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The dream scene. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRifEPZlyI/AAAAAAAAAJE/oy5UU5lXFiY/s1600/P1000242.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRifEPZlyI/AAAAAAAAAJE/oy5UU5lXFiY/s400/P1000242.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518143729289500450" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>So trippy. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRiepNsYGI/AAAAAAAAAI8/WXlqsUMpg4w/s1600/P1000245.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRiepNsYGI/AAAAAAAAAI8/WXlqsUMpg4w/s400/P1000245.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518143722034585698" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Run run run!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfVzOMX4I/AAAAAAAAAI0/kX7WZ8DN5Qw/s1600/P1000246.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfVzOMX4I/AAAAAAAAAI0/kX7WZ8DN5Qw/s400/P1000246.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518140271567331202" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Bustin' through. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfVaN5nhI/AAAAAAAAAIs/GeYbiHjBjII/s1600/P1000248.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfVaN5nhI/AAAAAAAAAIs/GeYbiHjBjII/s400/P1000248.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518140264855215634" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>While Fuerza Bruta is mainly trippy acts there was a little bit of choreographed dancing. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfVNI9tTI/AAAAAAAAAIk/j6AKbjgCUVs/s1600/P1000253.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfVNI9tTI/AAAAAAAAAIk/j6AKbjgCUVs/s400/P1000253.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518140261344851250" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>One of the actors broke some weird styrofoam confetti box thing on Robyn's head.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfU6-1uRI/AAAAAAAAAIc/CLiGHIpVyQk/s1600/P1000257.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfU6-1uRI/AAAAAAAAAIc/CLiGHIpVyQk/s400/P1000257.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518140256470546706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Confetti! </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfURmaA1I/AAAAAAAAAIU/VklRlLHa2VE/s1600/P1000262.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRfURmaA1I/AAAAAAAAAIU/VklRlLHa2VE/s400/P1000262.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518140245362213714" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That's Robyn right there on the left rockin' out after being invited up on stage.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbRTh4CrI/AAAAAAAAAIM/kOXAVB6IO-w/s1600/P1000276.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbRTh4CrI/AAAAAAAAAIM/kOXAVB6IO-w/s400/P1000276.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518135796293962418" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>This is this giant tub-like thing that lowered down and then raised up again...</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbQwFLGNI/AAAAAAAAAIE/AMsGNz8Hu4Q/s1600/P1000281.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbQwFLGNI/AAAAAAAAAIE/AMsGNz8Hu4Q/s400/P1000281.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518135786778335442" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Four women splash around in the water tub overhead. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbQfSfgtI/AAAAAAAAAH8/QzW4LjvCwqI/s1600/P1000285.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbQfSfgtI/AAAAAAAAAH8/QzW4LjvCwqI/s400/P1000285.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518135782270796498" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Splish splash.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbPrqpx_I/AAAAAAAAAH0/ykkyI-xgXUU/s1600/P1000290.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbPrqpx_I/AAAAAAAAAH0/ykkyI-xgXUU/s400/P1000290.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518135768413489138" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>So trippy. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbPPOqxvI/AAAAAAAAAHs/6S6ZmYEeFiw/s1600/P1000296.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TJRbPPOqxvI/AAAAAAAAAHs/6S6ZmYEeFiw/s400/P1000296.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518135760779921138" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The end of the show. Kind of profound. </i></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-86922096920753900312010-09-14T14:33:00.000-07:002010-09-14T14:58:11.350-07:00ARGENTINA VS. ESPANA<div>This past weekend was my two month anniversary since I arrived here in Argentina. It's been too months, and I'm yet to post one thing on my blog about soccer...I mean futbol. It's kind of a big deal here in Argentina. Unfortunately I arrived in the country just days after Argentina was eliminated from the World Cup, but no need to be worried, there's still plenty of soccer to go around. </div><div><br /></div><div>A week ago today (September 7), the argentine national team played Spain in a friendly exposition game, and I was lucky enough to get tickets. My only problem was who root for--I lived in Spain for a full year while I've only been here in Argentina for two months. I have a feeling this might change over the course of my time here, but thus far my heart is still reaches out to Spain (it's also pretty hard not to be a Spanish soccer fan after their 2008 Eurocup victory and their World Cup win this year). However, I decided that wearing red and gold might be a bad idea, so I choose a much safer option--a with top with a light blue scarf. Only there's a catch--I wore red and gold underwear :D </div><div><br /></div><div>In the end Argentina beat Spain 4-1, but I blame this on the fact that Spain send their B team since all of their top players are playing in their European leagues, while Argentina had all of their best players in the game. The game was a lot calmer than I expected, but I guess that is a result of it not really counting for anything. All in all it was a great afternoon, and it surely won't be my last futbol game here in Argentina.</div><div><br /></div><div>Check out the photos below that my friend Jess took (I was too scared to bring my camera to the stadium because of the rowdy spectators): </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_q_4OUqKI/AAAAAAAAAHk/GcdzvdRK4PY/s1600/estadio+bonito.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_q_4OUqKI/AAAAAAAAAHk/GcdzvdRK4PY/s400/estadio+bonito.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516886451697264802" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">A beautiful shot of el estado de River, the home stadium of one of Buenos Aires' top two teams. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_q_W6HeEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/lkUUHcroXzw/s1600/players.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 379px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_q_W6HeEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/lkUUHcroXzw/s400/players.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516886442754144322" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Check out Messi, number 10. He's a national hero. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_q_Io5SoI/AAAAAAAAAHU/sBl6RIdxiRY/s1600/estadio+noche.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_q_Io5SoI/AAAAAAAAAHU/sBl6RIdxiRY/s400/estadio+noche.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516886438923815554" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>River Stadium at night. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_qiRH3ipI/AAAAAAAAAHM/Ro_Y2J6FtKU/s1600/estadio.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_qiRH3ipI/AAAAAAAAAHM/Ro_Y2J6FtKU/s400/estadio.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516885942985001618" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>River's colors are conveniently red and white. Their mortal enemy Boca is also sponsored by coke, but the signs are black and white because Boca couldn't possibly have River's colors all over the stadium. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_qiOQR_rI/AAAAAAAAAHE/VGVLhCkf96o/s1600/in+jerseys.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_qiOQR_rI/AAAAAAAAAHE/VGVLhCkf96o/s400/in+jerseys.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516885942214983346" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Kevin, Allison and I at the game. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_qho_pFCI/AAAAAAAAAG8/tEJYI0ZqYoE/s1600/confetti.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI_qho_pFCI/AAAAAAAAAG8/tEJYI0ZqYoE/s400/confetti.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516885932213081122" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Loads and loads of light blue and white confetti that was sprayed everywhere at the beginning of the game. ¡VAMOS ARGENTINA!</i></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-90768747862665592732010-09-13T12:02:00.000-07:002010-09-13T12:51:27.500-07:00EVEN MORE ON THE UNIVERSITY TAKEOVER<div>I hope all of this talk about the UBA take over isn't boring people, but I for one find it fascinating. It makes me feel as if I were a student at Berkeley in the 1960's.<div><br /></div><div>The university take over has been going on for almost two weeks now. It all started on Wednesday, September 1 when a giant glass window broke injuring a girl at one of the three sedes (buildings for the Social Science department). The students used this as a rallying point behind the need for "more dignified classrooms." The quality of the classrooms are certainly very poor, but the students don't really help the situation since the paint graffiti all over the classroom walls. In addition to higher quality classrooms, the Social Science students are also demanding one buildings for the department--the department is currently spread across the city in three different sedes and students have to commute from one sede to another. There were initial plans to create one building dedicated entirely to Social Sciences, but funding disputes between the federal and city governments have prevented this from happening.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am taking one class in the School of Social Sciences and another class in the School of Philosophy and Letters (known as the two most politically active schools in UBA). Origionally only the Social Science students were striking, but last week after the president of Argentina Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner came out in support of the striking students the Philosophy and Letters students listened to the encouraging words of their president and joined their peers at Social Sciences by taking over the Philosophy and Letters sede. My host mom tells me that Cristina's statement was mainly a political move since Mauricio Macri, the mayor of Buenos Aires and the man who is taking most of the heat for the crappy buildings, is of an opposing political party.</div><div><br /></div><div>The bottom line is that class has been pretty crazy. Students are not allowed on inside the buildings other than on the first floor. Some teachers are holding "clases publicas" outside (either in the middle of the street or in parking lots) while other teachers just aren't holding class at all. The only way to know weather or not you have class is to show up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Check out the pictures below that I took at the Social Science building: </div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI5-ihbl10I/AAAAAAAAAG0/Kci-6rblBtg/s1600/P1000127.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI5-ihbl10I/AAAAAAAAAG0/Kci-6rblBtg/s400/P1000127.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516485725130184514" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>One of the two entrances to UBA Ciencias Sociales...right now it isn't serving as an entrance.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI5-hlWeToI/AAAAAAAAAGs/l30IlSV8xq8/s1600/P1000120.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI5-hlWeToI/AAAAAAAAAGs/l30IlSV8xq8/s400/P1000120.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516485709002591874" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"University that has been taken over but that is not empty."</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"One building"</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"All day: classes outdoors!"</i></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI5-hNwHoMI/AAAAAAAAAGk/D6bTeGRYI_w/s1600/P1000124.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI5-hNwHoMI/AAAAAAAAAGk/D6bTeGRYI_w/s400/P1000124.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516485702667706562" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Classroom #8. Each tree marks a new "classroom." If it's a nice sunny day clases públicas aren't that bad (although it can be quite difficult hearing the professor), but it's not as much fun if you have class beginning at 9:00 PM. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI575m4MkJI/AAAAAAAAAGc/d7sl-K2mDDs/s1600/P1000123.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI575m4MkJI/AAAAAAAAAGc/d7sl-K2mDDs/s400/P1000123.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516482823194448018" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>All of the "classrooms." Check out the numbers on all of the trees.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI5746WGIPI/AAAAAAAAAGU/I4jC_LOhgRw/s1600/P1000121.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI5746WGIPI/AAAAAAAAAGU/I4jC_LOhgRw/s400/P1000121.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516482811240259826" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Myths and truths about university take-overs. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI574eXTeeI/AAAAAAAAAGM/pXTsIYGJcw8/s1600/P1000122.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI574eXTeeI/AAAAAAAAAGM/pXTsIYGJcw8/s400/P1000122.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516482803729136098" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>More myths and truths about university takeovers.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI574AEmyWI/AAAAAAAAAGE/hBsPLjzfENg/s1600/P1000118.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI574AEmyWI/AAAAAAAAAGE/hBsPLjzfENg/s400/P1000118.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516482795597646178" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Can't get through.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI573li_6yI/AAAAAAAAAF8/cnA4BUV0UXI/s1600/P1000116.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TI573li_6yI/AAAAAAAAAF8/cnA4BUV0UXI/s400/P1000116.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516482788477365026" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Desks piled up to prevent anyone from going upstairs. Oh, and just a side note, all of the signs you see ("Asemblea de Ciencia Politica," "El Viejo Topo," "Sur," and etc have nothing to do with the take over. Those are there 24/7. Oh so UBA. </i></div><br /></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-83918788139160646122010-09-06T20:30:00.000-07:002010-09-06T21:09:03.171-07:00MORE ON THE STUDENT STRIKE<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;">The strike was still going strong today at three of the University of Buenos Aires' Campuses, and I'm still not sure if I have class tomorrow morning...my thought is no, but I'm going to go check it out anyway because I want to see this strike in action.<div><br /></div><div>Today I was meeting my friend Jimmy in Plaza de Mayo in front of the Casa Rosada (basically the Argentinian "White House"), and as I was exiting the Subte I noticed a line of about thirty police men dressed in head to toe black sporting gas masks, knee pads and giant tear glass shields. I was slightly concerned but decided to not think anything of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jimmy texted to say he was running late and then all of a sudden I started hearing chants/screams and the beat of some very loud drums. They they started getting closer and closer. Standing alone in the middle of Plaza de Mayo as the sun was setting in the distance I began to get a little scared. Luckily I was able to separate myself from the protesters (more UBA students protesting the poor quality of University Buildings) by some large metal barricade which allowed me to feel semi-safe while awaiting Jimmy's arrival.</div><div><br /></div><div>Once Jimmy arrived the two of us began walking over to the library only to once again cross paths with the protesters who were now standing outside of the Ministry of Education (I'm terrible at estimating numbers, but Jimmy, who claims to be pretty good, estimated that there were about 600 student protesters). After two hours in the library Jimmy and I passed by the Ministry of Education once again, and the student protesters were still out there. I wouldn't be surprised if they are still out there right now.</div><div><br /></div></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TIW4FTd39nI/AAAAAAAAAF0/8I8479G90zw/s1600/P1000092.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TIW4FTd39nI/AAAAAAAAAF0/8I8479G90zw/s400/P1000092.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514015720049473138" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Check out the size of that tank in the event that the demonstration got out of hand. Oh, and see the little police men with gas masks? 30 of them greeted me as I exited the Subte. </i></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TIW4FBMzEqI/AAAAAAAAAFs/WYWmq7ZFKoY/s1600/P1000083.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TIW4FBMzEqI/AAAAAAAAAFs/WYWmq7ZFKoY/s400/P1000083.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514015715146011298" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A picture I snapped from my perch "safely" behind the barricade. </i></div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TIW4EppdBpI/AAAAAAAAAFk/KnT47zS0X3o/s1600/P1000102.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TIW4EppdBpI/AAAAAAAAAFk/KnT47zS0X3o/s400/P1000102.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514015708823750290" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"All we want is to study in dignified conditions."</i></div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TIW4EUjq_6I/AAAAAAAAAFc/Yl5c6t1-AWE/s1600/P1000107.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TIW4EUjq_6I/AAAAAAAAAFc/Yl5c6t1-AWE/s400/P1000107.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514015703162355618" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Protesters in front of the Ministry of Education. </i></div><br /></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-4901781445190260832010-09-05T11:19:00.000-07:002010-09-05T11:45:02.519-07:00STRIKE!!!So I've already talked a little bit about the University of Buenos Aires, but I think it's hard to fully describe just how crazy this school actually is. I'm dying to take pictures, but I think it could be a little awkward if someone found me walking around the hallways snapping pictures...BUT maybe the following anecdote will paint a better picture of the university. <div><br /></div><div>Last Thursday class was canceled because the the teachers went on strike protesting salaries or something of the sort. While the major teacher union did go on strike a few of the teachers did not participate, so I, unfortunately, still had to go to class--even worse: I usually go to the 4PM class, but since that teacher was striking I had to pull myself out of bed at 7AM in order to make the 9AM class in the same subject taught by a different teacher. </div><div><br /></div><div>This past Thursday the UBA student body "<i>tomaron la univesidad,"</i> they "took over the university." There was not a single class in the building where I study--students removed desks from the classrooms, shoved them out into the hallways and walked around the hallways chanting. From what I understand they were protesting the poor quality of the university buildings and the lack of central heating. </div><div><br /></div><div>I still don't really get the point of a student strike since the students are the "customers" in the transaction, they are the ones receiving the benefits. By striking and not having class the students are only hurting themselves. It's a day off of work for the teachers. It's a weird concept to me, but apparently it's not all that uncommon.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and this student strike is not the only strike that effected my day on Thursday--the subway workers on two of the six subway lines were also striking--so even if I had wanted to go to class it would have been quite difficult. </div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-9489297757041300442010-08-31T20:29:00.000-07:002010-08-31T22:05:05.998-07:00A TOURIST IN MY HOMETOWN<div>Gaby and I made a deal a few weeks ago--we will do at least one cultural thing every week. We both decided that we didn't want to get to December and realize that we've accomplished very littler her in Buenos Aires. So far we've completed our task of doing at least one cultural thing a week, but this past weekend with my friend Ali in town I was inspired to exceed my weekly minimum. Ali and I explored my old neighborhood Palermo SoHo on foot (and by "explore" I really mean "shop"), we went to the Museo de Arte Latinoamericano Buenos Aires (MALBA), we walked down Recoleta's Avendia Alvear, we strolled down Nueve de Julio, and we had coffee at Cafe Tortoni, Buenos Aires' oldest cafe. I really enjoyed getting to share all I've learned about Buenos Aires with Ali, and her trip also gave me a great excuse to complete many of the touristy tasks that I can't possibly leave BA without doing.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3TuTO2OFI/AAAAAAAAAFU/-MLM7FsCa6w/s1600/P1000020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3TuTO2OFI/AAAAAAAAAFU/-MLM7FsCa6w/s400/P1000020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511794311361345618" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Brightly colored perfume bottles from an exhibit at MALBA.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3TLYj9UtI/AAAAAAAAAFM/5FGS0DzjYY4/s1600/P1000021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3TLYj9UtI/AAAAAAAAAFM/5FGS0DzjYY4/s400/P1000021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511793711496647378" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A bench at MALBA. The vine-like edge of the bench creeps over the wall and connects to a bench on another floor. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3SbGhBvrI/AAAAAAAAAFE/PrWEOMaNiCE/s1600/P1000023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3SbGhBvrI/AAAAAAAAAFE/PrWEOMaNiCE/s400/P1000023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511792882018795186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>We walked down the beautiful mansion-lined Alvear Street. This is a former mansion that was recently converted into the Ralph Lauren store.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">There was one thing that about Buenos Aires that we clearly couldn't leave out if we wanted to give Ali a proper tour of BA--the night life. Jenny, Gaby, Robyn and I did our best to show Ali a good time, so we took her to dinner in one of our favorite neighborhoods, Puerto Madero. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3Pjf5SqzI/AAAAAAAAAE8/zQ4zT6bOmMU/s1600/P1000031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3Pjf5SqzI/AAAAAAAAAE8/zQ4zT6bOmMU/s400/P1000031.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511789727735524146" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Don't know why, but for some reason we were inspired to have a dance party IN THE MIDDLE of the street. We sang the classic "Tell Me What Ya Want" by the Spice Girls. More than one car honked at us.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3KcD1ONmI/AAAAAAAAAE0/qP_v696Q7GM/s1600/P1000049.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3KcD1ONmI/AAAAAAAAAE0/qP_v696Q7GM/s400/P1000049.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511784102385038946" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Second Dance Party of the Night: We didn't really want to go to a </i>boliche<i> (Argentine dance club) at first, so we started our own dance party at the our argentine friend's appartment. Always a solid idea.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3JkYHB2II/AAAAAAAAAEs/Zs3EnXaajI8/s1600/P1000061.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TH3JkYHB2II/AAAAAAAAAEs/Zs3EnXaajI8/s400/P1000061.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511783145755760770" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Every year right at the very end of winter these crazy winds come to Buenos Aires signaling that spring is coming. You have to suffer though. There's no way around it. We tried to go clubbing, but after 30 minutes of waiting in the wind we gave up. The wind was exceedingly painful, but I can't say we didn't find ways to entertain ourselves. </i></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-76228707981418400892010-08-30T02:30:00.000-07:002010-08-30T03:02:19.752-07:00TEN CRAZY DAYS--NUEVA CASA, BRASIL WITH ALI, AND BUENOS AIRES PI PHI REUNIONSo it's been a little while since I've posted, and that's mainly because of three things: I moved houses, I went to Brasil (no, that's not a type; I did mean to write it with an 's') to visit my good friend Ali, and then Ali came to Buenos Aires to visit me. All of this (plus school) happened within the past 10 days. It's been amazing albeit quite busy.<div><br /></div><div>1. A while ago I wrote about my first host family, and how I wasn't very happy with them. I could go on and on about while living with them was miserable (and maybe I will at some point in time), but I suppose that it my reasons for moving don't matter so much anymore. I'm on to bigger and better things. It's so much better to focus on my new host family and how much better things are here. On Thursday, August 19 I moved to Recoleta. I'm now living with Clara, a 70-something widow, and Carolina, out maid who lives with us from Monday till Saturday morning. Clara is an absolute doll, and I have the best conversations with her. One thing that makes me feel particularly comfortable is that Clara made it apparent from Day 1 that she was in this not for the money but for the experience. Even though the program doesn't recompense her for it, she gives me lunch whenever I'm home and Carolina does my laundry for me. Last night I asked Clara if she knew of a shoe cobbler nearby (I've been wearing down my high heels. Haha), and she told me she couldn't remember the exact dress but that she'd take the shoes for me and then write down the address so I could go pick them up. After just one night in my new home, I left on my trip to Brasil. Upon my return four days later Clara told me that she'd turned down an invite from a friend to got to an art gallery opening that night because she wanted to have dinner with me and catch up. She is just the sweetest.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Last weekend, about 14 hours after moving into my new home, I left Buenos Aires to visit Ali in Sao Paulo. Other than my short stint across the border at the Iguazu Falls, this was my first real time in Brasil, I'm already dying to go back. I had a wonderful time getting to know Ali's sweet, sweet family; eating traditional Brazilian dishes; soaking up the sun; visiting a modern art museum; and, of course, catching up with Ali. My Spanish didn't get me nearly as far as I had hoped it would, but that hardly put a damper on the trip. One of the main things I took away from my weekend in Brasil was the sheer size of the city of Sao Paulo--11 million people live in the municipality alone (compare this to the 3 million in Buenos Aires, the 8 million in NYC, and the 2.2 million in Houston). Needless to say, SP is HUGE. Unfortunately I didn't have that much time in Brasil, but I loved what I saw of the country. Like Argentina, one of the most striking features was, once again, the hospitality (I might even say the Brasilians are even friendlier than the Argentines...is that even possible?). I've got to get back to Brasil. Soon.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. On Wednesday, just two days after I left Brasil, Ali came to visit Buenos Aires. Because Jenny is down here for the next three weeks, we were able to have our on little mini-Pi Phi reunion here in Buenos Aires. That's three Stanford Pi Phis in Buenos Aires at the same time (not to mention my two closest friends here Gaby and Robyn who just so happen to also be Pi Phis). I swear being a Pi Phi is not a requirement for my friendship. I wouldn't say that I'm homesick or anything (I'm loving BA way too much), but but how can you not miss Stanford just a little? I loved getting to experience a little Stanford love here in BA. More to come later on my adventures with Ali and Jenny (and Gaby and Robyn) here in the lovely Buenos Aires. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/THt7fbbQEnI/AAAAAAAAAEc/naO0v8k47GQ/s1600/P1000006.JPG"><br /></a></span></span></span></span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/THt7fbbQEnI/AAAAAAAAAEc/naO0v8k47GQ/s400/P1000006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511134348886151794" /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I had to take Ali and Jenny to Muma's. It is the most adorable little cupcake place that recently opened in Buenos Aires. Thank goodness the cup cake craze hit BA before I got here!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/THt7ey85_4I/AAAAAAAAAEU/OMp9RYgC4Os/s1600/P1000040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/THt7ey85_4I/AAAAAAAAAEU/OMp9RYgC4Os/s400/P1000040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511134338021457794" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Robyn, Ali, me, Jenny and Gaby in Puerto Madero. We are going to be the founding members of Argentina Alpha. Hahah.</i></div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-35082022438572665602010-08-18T21:56:00.000-07:002010-08-18T22:21:58.030-07:00FAVORITE MEMORY...THUS FAR<div>A few days ago one of my best friends Allison asked me what has been my favorite memory thus far....that's a tough question, but it got me thinking. I've seen a number of the sights here in Buenos Aires--the stately old Recoleta mansions, the cutting-edge and uber-trendy Hotel Faena in Puerto Madero, the brightly colored houses in La Boca--but those aren't the things that have made my experience. It's the people. It sounds cheesy, but it's true!</div><div><div><br /></div><div>About two weeks ago my two IFSA girlfriends Gaby and Robyn joined Pam (my former house mate) and I in at the Teatro Colón. We had wanted to go inside the theater, but it was closed. Instead we spent a few hours on the steps behind the theater giggling and telling our favorite stories about our experiences here in Buenos Aires. It was one of those simple moments, and it was the people--and not the place--that made afternoon so special. So simple and pure that it's a memory that could be easily forgotten, but those very same qualities--the simplicity and purity--are what make it so special. </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6sw_YoLI/AAAAAAAAAEE/IZm9GB9OqMI/s1600/38904_1353464169213_1609680044_30884745_5882222_n.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6sw_YoLI/AAAAAAAAAEE/IZm9GB9OqMI/s400/38904_1353464169213_1609680044_30884745_5882222_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506981722595041458" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">Tonterias </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><i>on the steps of the Teatró Colon. Gotta love the classic prom pic!</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6seiOA0I/AAAAAAAAAD8/ABK2ELFjUGk/s1600/33518_1353465089236_1609680044_30884753_6285126_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6seiOA0I/AAAAAAAAAD8/ABK2ELFjUGk/s400/33518_1353465089236_1609680044_30884753_6285126_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506981717640872770" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>There was some sort of artistic instillation, so we clearly had to play around. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6r5aaXdI/AAAAAAAAADs/Eqhu_rk58Ck/s1600/33518_1353464929232_1609680044_30884749_2331724_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6r5aaXdI/AAAAAAAAADs/Eqhu_rk58Ck/s400/33518_1353464929232_1609680044_30884749_2331724_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506981707676016082" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Action shot, courtesy of the lovely Miss Gaby Jenn, on the steps of the Teatro Colón. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6rwpoLxI/AAAAAAAAAD0/a2yrPe32qd8/s1600/33518_1353464889231_1609680044_30884748_2054639_n.jpg"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6rwpoLxI/AAAAAAAAAD0/a2yrPe32qd8/s400/33518_1353464889231_1609680044_30884748_2054639_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506981705323917074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><i>It just so happens that Robyn, Gaby and I are all Pi Phis. Robyn and Gaby joke about founding the Argentina Alpha chapter. I, however, take the matter quite seriously. </i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div></span></i></div><div><div><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy7nwUBlkI/AAAAAAAAAEM/OmjCgnQ_zKk/s400/DSCN0438.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506982736025458242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6sw_YoLI/AAAAAAAAAEE/IZm9GB9OqMI/s1600/38904_1353464169213_1609680044_30884745_5882222_n.jpg"></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6sw_YoLI/AAAAAAAAAEE/IZm9GB9OqMI/s1600/38904_1353464169213_1609680044_30884745_5882222_n.jpg"></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGy6sw_YoLI/AAAAAAAAAEE/IZm9GB9OqMI/s1600/38904_1353464169213_1609680044_30884745_5882222_n.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><i>Teatro Colón as we left it that afternoon--at dusk.</i></span></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-80456086330714970082010-08-14T22:12:00.001-07:002010-08-18T22:22:54.824-07:00IT'S FASHION WEEK IN BUENOS AIRES!<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia;">It's BAFWeek, and for 25 pesos (about $6) you can buy day-long access which allows you to see up to five fashion shows and endless access to all the many displays and small stands selling jewelry, clothing, handbags and shoes. A pretty good deal, no?</span><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Here are some pictures from my two visits to BAFW:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:16pt;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGd5LKp4BxI/AAAAAAAAAC0/HCHdIze4GcE/s320/DSCN0474.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505502302229235474" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>The runway at the Juana de Arco show. </i></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:16pt;"></span><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGd5LQ9otbI/AAAAAAAAAC8/_o9V7ZD_WuU/s320/DSCN0458.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505502303922730418" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>More from Juana de Arco.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i></i><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGgX_bbiirI/AAAAAAAAADM/1uAR95UEBwU/s320/DSCN0492.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505676922922896050" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>Crapy photo but sexy male model.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGgZTikBDhI/AAAAAAAAADU/rkCn50F2aUY/s320/DSCN0515.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505678367946509842" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>Check out the old, hairy male models, but please don't ask me why.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i></i><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGgexqL6SMI/AAAAAAAAADk/hU0oFLWXbYM/s320/DSCN0563.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505684382947100866" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yet another photo where I don't really have a clue what is going on. </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i></i><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGgb5GLl1JI/AAAAAAAAADc/c-nJZf9yUjA/s320/DSCN0549.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505681212186154130" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>Show #3 was swimwear. </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TGgV1n-b3UI/AAAAAAAAADE/-KRpvCHgs1A/s320/DSCN0488.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505674555468537154" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Posing in front of the BAFWeek sign with Victoria.</i></p>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-75316416573972099682010-08-11T07:46:00.000-07:002010-08-11T08:20:02.165-07:00SCHOOL'S IN SCESSIONI was warned about the disorganization of the Argentine educational system on multiple occasions, but I didn't really have any idea what to expect. I had my first class last week at Di Tella, a small, prestigious, private university located in Buenos Aires. Di Tella is one of the best schools in Argentina and is said to be modeled after a school in the united states--unlike the professors many of the other schools in Argentina, most of the professors at Di Tella are full-time professors (at most schools professors teach classes but then have a second job to supplement their income) and most have doctorates. <div><br /></div><div>My class last Monday at Di Tella (a class on Contemporary Issues in Argentina) was scheduled--<i>scheduled </i>is a key word here--to begin at 12:45, but as it was my first day I arrived early at 12:20 to ensure I could find the classroom and what not. Around 12:50, five minutes after the class was scheduled to begin, the first Argentine student arrived. Around 1:00 the second Argentine student arrived. We waited an hour and 15 minutes and still no sign of the professor, so one of the Argentine students went to look for him. The professor was sitting calmly in his office at his computer--he hadn't realized class started that day. An hour and twenty minutes late we finally began class and the professor told us that while we were schedule to meet on both Mondays and Thursdays he only thought we needed to meet once a week, so we wouldn't have a Thursday class. He also said that while the class started at 12:45 there was no need to come before 1:00. I listened to him, and this week I arrived at class right on time at 1:00 only to discover that the professor seemed to have forgotten what he had said earlier, starting his class promptly at 12:45. </div><div><br /></div><div>That was my Di Tella experience--and Di Tella is quite organized considered to the Universidad de Buenos Aires. UBA as it's called here is a public university with a 300,000 person student body, and it's often considered Argentina's most prestigious university in part because of the skill it takes on the part of the student to navigate the logistical nightmare UBA creates in order to graduate. UBA has various sedes (department buildings) scattered all over BA and it can take up to an hour to travel from one sede to another. I'm shopping classes at Filosofia y Letras and Ciencias Sociales, continently located about 30 minutes from each other. </div><div><br /></div><div>UBA is also known as a socialist hotbed. There are posters everywhere (there were even tiny little fliers taped to each step on the stairs) and you can even find graffiti supporting various causes on the classroom walls. For my first UBA class, a Political Science class about Argentine Foreign Policy, I arrived at the Social Science sede an hour early. After waiting in line for an hour in attempt to find out my classroom number I was informed that even though Political Science classes are offered by the Social Science Department the classes are usually held in the Communications building located about 45 minutes away if you use public transportation--whoops. As it was now time for my class to begin, I hopped in a taxi (after first having to stop at a cash machine in order to be able to pay for the taxi) and hurried over to the Communications building. </div><div><br /></div><div>I arrived to class about 30 minutes late (but I was not the last to arrive), and I understood about 25% of what the professor said. It wasn't that he was speaking too fast; the problem was the acoustics of the room and the fact that he was speaking rather softly. After the class I approached the professor, and upon discovering that I was a foreign exchange student his attitude transformed completely. He told me that in the future he would make an concerted effort to speak more clearly. He also offered to hold tutorials just for the foreign exchange students--three of us in total--to make sure we understand everything. He then walked us down to the photo copy store where you go each week to pick up your readings. While walking there we made a connection, realizing just how small the world is. A friend of his is currently getting her Masters in Latin American Studies at Stanford--maybe I'll meet her this Spring in one of my Latin American Studies classes for my minor! </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and one other funny thing about UBA--the professors frequently stop class to let visitors come in and make announcements or etc. In my first class the professor stopped for five minutes on two separate occasions. First to let some man lecture to us about leftist politics (he distributed a pamphlet titled "Bulletin of the Union of Young People for Socialism") and second to let a man speak to us about Down's Syndrome and then ask for money--and almost all of the students in the class gave him money! It was crazy. Haha. I'm clearly quite far away from Stanford. </div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-21290246257075914092010-08-08T17:51:00.000-07:002010-08-08T18:12:54.555-07:00SOUTHERN AMERICAN HOSPITALITYI've been down here in Argentina for four weeks now, and I fall in love with the city a little more each day. It's hard not to fall in love--the people here are just so friendly. While we were staying at the estancia in Cordoba, the Brazilian family who was staying at the same estancia with us heard that I was going to Brazil. They invited me to not only stay with them in their house three hours outside of Sao Paulo, but they also said I was more than welcome to stay with their mother in Sao Paulo. <div><br /></div><div>On our way Iguazu a family that I just randomly started chatting with in the airport gave me their phone number and e-mail address, telling me to call them or e-mail them if I needed anything. They also invited me to come bring some friends and spend the weekend with them at their home en Mar de Plata. The hospitality down here is truly incredible. In the United States we are so scared of others. I feel like we assume the worst, but the people here assume the best. </div><div><br /></div><div>One of the most hospitable of families is the Place Family. Jenny Place is one of my closest friends from Stanford. She is from Buenos Aires, and while Jenny is currently back in California, I've been able to get to know her family. While my parents were here our family went to dinner with the Place Family, and then this weekend I spent the majority of my day on Saturday with the Places. They live in the suburbs to the north of Buenos Aires (it's between 30minutes to an hour away depending on traffic). On Saturday morning the drove into Buenos Aires to pick me up, and we drove out to their home in the north. We had a lovely lunch at a country club where they are members and then spent a some time at their home where they gave me a tour, and we chatted. Mr. Place knows that I'm a history major and lent me a number of books about Argentine history, and Jenny's younger sister Stephanie lent me some DVDs from their movie collection to keep myself entertained. The Place Family has really taken me under my wing and treats me as if I'm their daughter (Mr. Place e-mails me at least once a week to check in and make sure everything is going well). It's so nice to have such a loving family looking after me, especially since my host family is so cold. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was so nice to get out of the city, to see homes with yards and swimming pools and to spend some time with a loving family. It was a lovely day and just reaffirmed what I've already noticed about South American Hospitality. </div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-20131491924822081792010-07-27T15:02:00.000-07:002010-07-27T15:31:42.399-07:00LA EVITAYesterday was the 58th anniversary of Eva Duarte de Perón (the famous First Lady to Juan Perón who is much loved by the masses for her support of the working classes). Following orientation a group of friends and I decided that we wanted to go to the parade in her honor. We walked and walked trying to figure out where the parade was, but no one in the city seemed to know. We went to a tourist information center and the attendant didn't know it was the anniversary of her death in spite of the fact that the anniversary was covered on the front page of each major argentine newspaper. <div><br /></div><div>Because know one seemed to know where the parade was we figured we should go to the famous Recoleta Cemetery where Evita is buried. The parade had to pass by her tomb, right? Wrong. The closed the cemetery before the parade had even begun. The whole situation makes no sense to me, but things don't always make sense down here. After 3 hours of searching we gave up on our quest to find the parade and headed home. </div><div><br /></div><div>The past few days have been busy learning about all of the different course options. We have the ability to take classes at as few or as many argentine universities as we want. Our choices are Di Tella (a very small and extremely prestigious university modeled on the American university system), la Universidad Católica de Argentina, la Universidad de San Salvador (another Catholic University, but one that is a little more secular), and, finally, la Universidad de Buenos Aires. Most consider UBA, a university of 300,000 students, the most prestigious university in Argentina in part because it is such an unorganized school and takes so much motivation and organization on the part of the student to graduate. Canceled classes as a result of teacher union strikes are not uncommon at UBA. I'll be shopping a number of classes for the next two weeks, but I'm thinking I'll probably end up taking two classes at UBA just because of how the exam schedule works (I originally wanted to take classes at Di Tella, but their exams are after our program ends and after I return to the United States). As someone whose gone to private school her whole life, I think UBA is going to be quite a shock for me. It should be an adventure, that's for sure!</div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446776588032604504.post-74724659122412643932010-07-25T20:23:00.000-07:002010-08-18T22:23:37.138-07:00FIRST WEEKENDYesterday I spend a great deal time wandering around Palermo SoHo trying to get a feel for the neighborhood with Gaby. Around 8:00 we were starving (we had dinner plans with Pam at 10:00--gotta love the Argentinian eating habits), so we went to a smalllittle bar a block from my house. Gaby was brave and decided to order llama. I couldn't understand all of the menu because there were a number of strange words I'd never seen before, so I thought I'd be safe and order empanadas. It turns out I ordered albatross and alligator empanadas. Ooops. I guess that's what happens when you just order whatever. It certainly was an interesting appetizer. The llama was delicious; the albatross was actually pretty good; the alligator not half bad.<div><br /></div><div>I continued to explore Palermo today. My homework for my Castellano class this weekend was to walk around an assigned neighborhood with two partners from class taking pictures for ten different categories that exemplified the neighborhood. Some of the words we had to use as inspiration were texture, panorama, tension, graffiti...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TFNWf4Nyv8I/AAAAAAAAACc/FqUPYOgGpPM/s320/textura.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499834675615678402" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">texture: a gorgeous sequined dress from one of Palermo's many boutiques.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">.<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TFNWgbIWgQI/AAAAAAAAACk/U2W5AiVB8j0/s320/panorama.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499834684988096770" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">panaroma: a view of the many different architectural styles Palermo has to offer. Note the recently built modern high rise, the small French-style home, and the stark apartment building from the military dictatorship. </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TFNWfd_f2pI/AAAAAAAAACU/2n04W0sX3Gg/s320/tension.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499834668576397970" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">tension: attempting to cross Avenida Santa Fe, the life line of Palermo. </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TFNWelxjfrI/AAAAAAAAACM/MHLTMdIy2cQ/s320/graffiti.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499834653485530802" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">graffiti: Palermo's got a lot of graffiti, but this colors in this one really stood out.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i></i></span><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6F3Ly68xmuo/TFNgE6nqySI/AAAAAAAAACs/onJv9-ylwjA/s320/calor.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499845207520889122" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">calor: we stopped at one of Palermo's many coffee shops to avoid the rain. </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div>Hopefully these photos can present you with some sort of idea as to what my new neighborhood is like. They are all images I now see on a daily basis. Oh, and the photos aren' mine. I'm not nearly so talented. My friend Jimmy (and one of my partners for the project) took all of them :)</div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959175364026773299noreply@blogger.com0