A kid, her pillow-pet, and her hopes that, although her camera might do a pretty darn good job, it won't be able to capture all of the amazing memories that are about to be created. But God knows I’ll try to convey this wonderful experience through my words and my lens!
And thus, we are left here with this beginning account of my first couple of weeks spent in Buenos Aires--courtesy of my child-like over enthusiasm at all things Argentine and my trigger-camera-happy finger.
We're going to skip the goodbyes, the Wisconsin cold, and the descriptions of the surprisingly good airplane food and get right down to the good stuff--Buenos Aires, Argentina.
The writer in me wants to say that first walking out of Ezeiza Airport was like breathing in a breath of fresh air, but the Honest Abe in me has to say that it was more like breathing in a breath of cough-inducing, second-hand cigarette smoke. And to me, that sweet smell (though I am not a smoker) was a whiff of delicious, asthma-irritating, familiarity of this city.
Yet that same familiarity was constantly mixed with a feeling of uncertainty as I didn't know where the FLACSO bus was taking us, who would be there, and what we would do. And that's very fitting of how my first few days in Buenos Aires turned out to be--vague sights or customs that I remembered overshadowed by the cloudy feeling that I wasn't quite confident in knowing exactly what they were or how they were done.
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| I remembered that people here often bought their fruits at a store of its own entity--a verdulería or frutería--but I couldn't remember exactly how this was done. Do I touch the fruits myself? Do I tell them what I want? How do I know they aren't charging me too much for what I'm buying? How much is this coin that I have in my hand even worth?!?! |
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The same went for the Panadería. And this was something that , for the sake of my sweet tooth, I would need to get cleared up right away. By trial, and not so much error thanks to the helpful workers, I found that you get to fill your own basket with baked goods. I also found that the baskets can hold just about one of every type of baked good.......This was very good news for a person whose personal motto is "No amount of dulce de leche is ever enough dulce de leche" |
And other than dulce de leche, you know what I missed?
Coca-Cola from a glass bottle. Although it is obtainable in the States, it's not as common.
You know what I forgot you need to have in order to drink Coca-Cola from a glass bottle?
A bottle opener. Yet another "detail" of my memories that I left out. (Or perhaps just common-sense, in this case).You know what works instead of a bottle opener? A roommate and her key. Just in case any of you are ever stuck in the same predicament, impatiently awaiting that sweet, syrupy taste that you hadn't had for three years...
I missed the normalcy of getting an afternoon "café". I missed being waited on and being casually impressed that orders never had to be written down, that it was expected that people would sit and chat for a couple of hours, and the elegant show that always accompanied ordering a simple café con leche--The heated up cup of milk, the small glass of sparkling water, and often, the mini alfajor served to you.
Despite the leisure that accompanies an afternoon cafecito, I am enamored with the contrast of energy that is constantly flowing throughout the city.
The streets are full of stands that lend to the life and color of Buenos Aires, people are walking to work, walking home for lunch, or stopping to get their shoes shined on their break which is indubitably cementing the perception of a hard-working and versatile society and culture.
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| I feel like this could be the cover of a magazine! 'El Porteño', perhaps |
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| The architecture is constantly leaving me breathless. |
And with the 'hustle and bustle' of the city comes the 'watching and waiting' of Public Transportation.
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| The adorable reality that you never get too old to wait for your bus. |
And once past the initial view of what it was like to be surrounded by a passionate people and city, I was blessed enough to move one degree closer--well, as close as you can get, actually--and live with a wonderful Argentine woman named Gabriela.
Gabriela, or more fondly called Gabe, is an inspiring woman to say the least. Immediately she exemplified, with poise, the candid personality that is very much a part of the Argentine's nature. She gifted me with stories about herself, her family, her life and almost instantly made me feel comfortable and free to do the same with her.
She is an accomplished writer, a sought after literary editor, a mother, a grandmother, a life-long friend, a selfless and hospitable host, a master in the kitchen, and one half of the pre-dinner entertainment duet that one is lucky to listen in on.
Her duet partner, comes in the form of her long-time boyfriend, Sebastián. Sebastián is never lacking in versatility of dinner conversations--ranging from stories of his visits to the USA, peeling back layers of Peronismo in hopes of helping me better understand, to discussions on our favorite Argentine cinema.
Dinners have easily become one of my favorite parts of Bs. Ar. You can't go wrong when you have the certainty of delicious food and delving conversation.
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| Celebrating Gabe's birthday! |
More than her food. Her family. Her friends. Her emphasis that I am comfortable in "my home". One of my favorite perks to living with Gabe, in this home, is the terrazza that I get to use whenever I please! Much tanning, drooling over the view of the city, and hanging out with friends has taken place on my apartment roof!
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| Obviously, this doesn't even do the actual sight justice. |
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| Celebrating my friend Ainsley's 21st birthday with a skyline, rooftop, make-shift asado. |
