Gone Fishin'

Well kids, I'm on vacation! Not in Kauai as the picture suggests, but somewhere just as good, home! New York & back home to California on the 28th. I'll probably be too busy shopping at Target and drinking huge To Go iced soy lattes from Starbucks to write much. Also trying to order in Spanish and marveling at how big everything is. Back in BA in June.
Besoooooos!

Working for vacation

Current theme song: Cibo Matto's Working for vacation from Stereo Type A
"Feeling wrong cuz the days are too long/counting heartbeats, 72 in a minute..." Go download, you!

Anyway, I'm going on vacation next week! On holiday, as my very properly and Britishly trained students would say. For the first time in my life, I'm going on a vacation to the United States. One week in New York and around, then one week at home in the beautiful Bay Area, in my beloved Golden State. It goes without saying that I am the most excited to see my family and friends (and dog and cat.)

Apart from that, I'm counting down the days till I can:

• Communicate effortlessly.
• Eat at Intermezzo, Cheeseboard, Gordo's, Cafe Raj, Zachary's, Cactus, SF Japantown, the list goes on and on. And yes, get a huge decaf soy latte at Starbucks. I miss that too.
  
• And, eat spicy food. Actually spicy. In case you don't know, 99% of Argentines that I've met can't eat spicy food and melodramatically fan their mouths and make desperate faces when they eat, like, a salad with a little black pepper sprinkled on it.
• Drink a local microbrew IPA on the patio at Jupiter, Raleigh's, or Triple Rock
  
• Lay in the sun in my backyard (because it's almost summer at home!!!)
• Take the dog for a run at the Berkeley Marina and watch the fog roll in
• Go to Safeway and see no less than 15 people I went to high school with and/or their parents
• Wander through the UCB campus and end with a coffee at Strada
• Do my own laundry, in my own house, for free! *Well, okay, I kind of need to edit that, since I just had a HUGE bag of laundry washed and dried for only 9 pesos. And before you think I'm all spoiled, sending my laundry out, that's the only way to get your laundry done in BA. I've never seen a self-service laundromat, and it's dirt cheap to have it done for you, because, unlike in Santiago de Chile where they charge by the kilo, here they charge by the bag, no matter how big or small. And it comes back warm, folded neatly and smelling just like fresh laundry should. Anyway.
  

What I think I'll miss most about BA while I'm gone:

• Kisses! I love, love, love the excessive amount of cheek kissing that goes on in this culture.
• The colectivos. That's not sarcastic, I will really miss the unapologetic craziness of this system. Especially now that I've discovered the 140 bus line, painted lipstick red, doing their best to out-crazy all the other lines and drivers, and give you an exhilarating brush with death every time you ride. Not bad for just 90 centavos.
• How beautiful, entertaining, ridiculous, lively & chaotic, and convenient the city is.
  
• Gorgeous Argentine men in business suits (just being honest, okay...)
• Constant public transportation problems meaning you ALWAYS have a good excuse for being late
• Hearing Spanish everywhere and therefore being able to relax and tune out other people's conversations in public places more easily than I can with English
• My adorable students! (The good ones.)
• The sky. I don't know, the sky here is something special, it's extra blue and pretty

What I won't miss:

• Lazy waiters who disappear after they bring your food and test your morals by making it too easy to dine & ditch (hacer un pagadios)
  
• Crazy inflation so you never know how much a Coke Light is gonna cost
• The occasional student who puts no effort into classes and makes me feel like every class is a bad first date
• Being asked, ¿De dónde sos? every time I open my mouth. Or people who immediately assume I am a tourist and don't take the time to realize that I can actually speak and understand Spanish, despite my accent.
• My horrible gym with its 18th century Brazilian treadmills

I just read this over and realized that my writing has a bit of a non-native English speaker feel to it these days. Pero bueno, no hace falta que escriba perfectamente aquí. Anyway, I'm tired after a long day of not working (all classes cancelled) and need to go chill out with some friends over a Quilmes, some pizza & faina. That's something else I'll miss.

Luego, mis amores!

I heart teaching English

Ahh... Some days I love being an English teacher. Obviously I love it because most of my students are so fun and lovable, but I also appreciate weeks like this one, where, for example, in the last three days I had 7 classes scheduled, but only had to teach 3 of them. There is a wonderful rule among the language institutes of Buenos Aires that if a student cancels less than 24 hours before the class, the teacher gets paid regardless. If a student doesn't show up for class, the teacher should wait 30 minutes and then is free to go (and of course, gets paid.) This is a completely necessary rule, since most students are so flaky (especially the ones whose companies pay for their lessons) and it makes teaching much nicer and more relaxing. At first I was annoyed when students cancelled while I was in the Subte on the way to their class, or stepping through the front door to their office. Or when students just completely didn't show up. Now, I've been outside of the United States long enough to have almost overcome that innate Yanqui compulsion towards organization and professionalism. Who needs it? A cancelled class means 30 - 40 free pesos and a lot of free time. Also, since I would have already prepped for that class, there's no prep to be done for the next one.
Teaching English is a pretty amazing gig if you think about it. No, the pay is not good. But there are some pretty incredible upsides, like abundant work and constant job offers, the most laid-back job interviews I have ever experienced, and the ability to set your own schedule (I don't work before 1 p.m. It's like a dream come true.) And the cancellations are nice too.
Which is why, on days like today, I have time to relax in my perfect new apartment and chat in Spanish about cultural differences between Argentina and Chile and how to make Lemon Pie, go to the completely ghetto gym down the street and try to figure out the treadmills (all Brazilian, all in Portuguese), and post stuff here. Like this poem by Borges, that I love, love love, it totally captures something about the essence of Buenos Aires and how it feels when you accidentallly stumble onto some perfect beautiful little street, with old and crumbling buildings and laundry hung on the balconies, and it reminds you why you love it here.

Calle Desconocida

En esa hora en que la luz
tiene una finura de arena,
di con una calle ignorada,
abierta en noble anchura de terraza,
cuyas cornisas y paredes mostraban
colores blandos como el mismo cielo
que conmovía el fondo.
Todos — la medianía de las casas,
las modestas balaustradas y llamadores,
tal vez una esperanza de niña en los balcones
entró en mi vano corazón
con limpidez de lágrima

Unknown Street

In that hour when the light has the fineness of sand,
I happened on a street unknown to me,
ample and broadly terraced,
whose walls and cornices
took on the pastel color of the sky
that nudged the horizon.
Everything — the drab houses,
the crude banisters, the doorknockers,
perhaps the hopes of a girl dreaming on a balcony –
all entered into my vain heart
with the clarity of tears

Casa sweet casa... #5

I just moved into my 5th apartment in Buenos Aires... the first a year ago when I was first here, and the last 4 in the last 7 months. Wow. Writing that makes me feel like some quaint old-fashioned hobo or tramp who wandered around during the Great Depression with a bundle of things tied up in a checkered blanket and attached to a stick slung over my shoulder. But anyway, I am not normally this transient, and in fact as I discovered while packing up all my things, I am in fact a huge packrat. ('Do I need this skirt I bought 4 months ago and still haven't worn once? Um... YES, obviously.') We packrats don't deal too well with a nomadic lifestyle.
Anyway, what's exciting about this new place is that for the first time I am living a) not in Palermo and b) not with other Yanquis. For anyone who doesn't know, Palermo is like the Beverly Hills of Buenos Aires. Well, much more urban. But basically, it's known for tree-lined streets, great bars and restaurants, pretty parks, and being home to the BA upwardly mobile.
*Sidenote/little history lesson: I recently learned that, actually, San Telmo & the South of the city used to be the rich part. But then, when the Yellow Fever epidemic of 1871 came, the rich fled to the North, to what is now Barrio Norte, Recoleta, etc. Huge elaborate mansions in San Telmo were turned into multiple family homes (conventillos), now mostly used as art galleries. And the North became what it is today, home to the mildly/extravagantly wealthy (see the Alvear Hotel or any house in San Isidro.)
Anyway, with the exception of 6 weeks spent living in Almagro in 2007, I've only lived in Palermo. My new apartment is in Tribunales/Congreso/Once, depending who you ask, and if I'm among chetos I can lie and say it's in Barrio Norte. I'm living with an Argentine family, who has a daughter just a little older than me who is studying philosophy at la UBA, and a British guy. Here's something interesting for anyone reading this from the USA - you know how at home, being a university professor is a pretty cushy job? Tenure, big salary, easy work hours, reserved parking space? Well, not here. Professors here basically work for the love of their subject and often have to hold down two jobs so they can support themselves. I thought our education system was a mess, but Argentina could definitely give us a run for our money in that department.
Anyway, I have high hopes for this new apartment, that my Spanish will improve a bit, my commute to work will be much shorter, and hopefully I won't need to move again, at least for a few months.
I'm also now on Subte Linea B (Subway Line B) instead of D. This may not sound significant, but I have a theory about Buenos Aires, classism, and the Subte. Linea D is hands down the nicest line, the chic one, which carries Palermo & Belgrano residents to office jobs in Microcentro, or to shopping on Santa Fe. Linea C, on the other hand, is like a one-way train to Ghettotown. Literally, if you're going to the end of the line in Constitucion, something I do every Thursday. I swear, someone needs to do a sociological survey about this. You can measure it using the "People with iPods vs. People Missing Teeth" Ratio. The other lines fall somewhere in between. Linea A is adorable and old-fashioned with cute retro subte cars. Linea B, I'm not sure, but at least I don't have to transfer to get to work anymore.
Okay, enough rambling! besos to all.