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.

Buying a fan in BA

Well, first of all, let me say that laid back customer service is one thing I really like about Buenos Aires. A lot. Especially in restaurants and clothing stores. I am not one of those Yanquis who has a hard time adjusting to the slow pace here - I love it. I feel like at home we all run around with this frantic sense of deadlines and impending doom and anxiety over what will happen if we don't get our soy latte RIGHT NOW. But here in Argentina (and much more outside of the capital) you are forced to mellow out, relax, walk slowly, eat slowly, take life as it comes.

That said, as far as customer service goes, Buenos Aires has really cornered the market on excessive employees in stores and restaurants. It's not uncommon to see 8 people clustered behind the counter in a small café with maybe five tables. It will still take 45 minutes for you to get your café con leche.

For example, yesterday my fantastic new roommate Sophy and I went on a mission to buy fans for the apartment. Spring is turning into Summer here in Buenos Aires, and we have three sweaty months of excruciating heat in front of us. We went to a nearby electronics store called Frávega. There were so many salesman it was hard to walk around the store, but eventually we decided on two floor fans ($89 pesos each, or less than $30 dollars.) I told the salesman who had been helping us that we wanted to get the fans. Because we were paying with credit cards, he needed to enter all the information from our Driver's Licenses into the computer and print out several forms, which we took to a different counter, where we paid for the fans and received more paperwork. We took the second paperwork to another counter where someone else (three people actually) were in charge of retrieving the fans from the back storage room. The illusive fans were brought out and another employee opened the boxes, I guess for us to inspect them. An older Argentine lady next to us seemed to be inspecting the fan she was buying quite carefully, but Sophy and I just wanted to get on with it at that point. Then we had to sign two more pieces of paper to prove we had received the fans. Finally, the fans were bagged up and we could leave. I think it was less work when I bought my first car.

It was an experience, and now I have a fan in my bedroom, which I'm pretty sure is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Casa dulce casa!

On Monday we moved to a new apartment in Palermo Viejo. The neighborhood is fantastic - tall leafy trees lining the street, sidewalk cafes in every direction, walking distance to anything we might need, and my new best friend, our doorman Osmar, who I exchange cheek kisses with about 5 times a day.
By the way - that's reason #4,872 that I love love love Buenos Aires, the kisses - it's such a nice way to greet people, so much friendlier and more intimate than a handshake.
Anyway, we also live half a block from Plaza Guemes, an idyllic square with a children's playground, puppies, and people leisurely reading the newspaper or drinking mate. Right next to the Plaza (and included in the view from our balcony to the left) is the Basilica del Espiritu Santo.
As for the apartment - well, it has a lot of character. In the living room, we have some large leather armchairs with gold and silver sequined pillows adorning them, and a table and set of chairs that may date back to Henry VXXMII. As the centerpiece of the table, there is a very worn looking bottle of Drambuie, some mystery cherry liquer, and a tiny cocktail glass, as though some 18th century pirate had a nightcap at the table before we moved in. In the front hallway, we have a large Asian inspired tapestry, and in the back we have cabinets and cabinets full of random kitsch, broken china, and huge acrylic paintings. On our first day in the apartment, we discovered that almost everything is broken, but in a very charming and endearing way. None of the faucets turn off completely, the toilet only stops running on occasion, the bathroom door doesn't close, and using the microwave requires an extension cord dangling into the sink. But - we absolutely love it. It's funky, and retro, and stylish, and it already feels like home.
We also have two baby birds living on our balcony. They are named Hola and Chau, and Will discovered them yesterday, when at first he thought they were "one big dead bird" only to discover that they were actually two small living birds. They look very mellow and mostly just cuddle with each other in their ceramic pot. The mommy bird (a dove) has come to visit a couple times, so hopefully Hola and Chau will be alright.
Anyway, we love our new place and what with wondering whether the kitchen cabinet will fall off the wall next time you go to get some olive oil, or the bathroom sink crack and shatter next time you wash your hands, and not really being able to close any of the doors in the apartment, life is never boring. It's a constant adventure, even if you're just getting up for a glass of water in the middle of the night.
And that's how I like it.