Date Night

The first night we were in BsAs we were at a bar. We approached some local girls, three to be exact, and after a little engaging conversation and some drinks, we number closed. Number closing is hard to do in Buenos Aires because the numbers are all long and confusing and start with different codes. We exchanged numbers and told them we should get together sometime soon. This Saturday we called them up and agreed to take them out to dinner.

First problem of the night: the girls call us up, and ask us how much money we want to spend. This is bad. Even worse, my friend's response is, "money is not an issue." Bad news bears. We're expecting to get absolutely fleeced by some girls who are then going to go out with their boyfriend and brag about how they just gipped some Americans for a fancy dinner.

Second problem: when we go to meet up with the 3 girls, there are three girls. But one is different. Mine isn't there. She has been subbed out for another girl. These girls have gone to the bullpen and brought in the lefty. Doesn't phase me one bit, I just pretend like the new girl was my date all along and start making broken spanish small talk.

Now something good: these girls make a horrible mistake, and instead of taking us to an insanely fancy dinner, they take us to a pizza and beer place. We're all immediately impressed with them. We order up pizzas, beers, and get to talking. Keep in mind that while we are talking with them these girls are furiously chainsmoking Lucky Strikes and Marlboro Reds. My amigo is smoking light cigarettes and this is commented on by the girls as being slightly feminine. These girls are twice the men we are. At this point I'm thinking about asking them what they think about the Patriots chances next year.

Anyways, dinner goes well, we're conversating in a mix of Spanish and English, learning a couple of new phrases (Chenena means "hey baby", but apparently in an extra seductive way). Once i find that out I say it to my girl about 6 times. She's mildly amused.

We're done dinner, and we've all had a great time. So now it's time for the next problem. My original girl, the one I had met Monday night, suddenly shows up. Apparently she just couldn't make dinner but she didn't want me to think she was blowing me off. It wasn't as weird as it sounds, if you can believe that.

It was a great time out. Our first Argentine date, apparently the best way to learn Spanish possible. The next morning we told our host mom that we'd hit it off so well we had made plans to be married. She shook her head, and in Spanish told us "I told you boys these Argentine girls move so fast... so fast"

Parents just don't understand

A lot of times when I'm in New York foreigners will have interactions with me that I will just find hilarious. I get to laugh at the silly things they say in English and tell my friends about it later. One times these Chinese people came up to me in the subway and asked how to get to the cruise ship docks. I told them, and when I asked where they were going, they told me Florida. Coincidentally, I was wearing a shirt that said "Clearwater Beach, Florida" on it, so i pulled it out off my chest to show it to them. The lead of the group looked at me pulling the front of my shirt out and just yelled "YEAH, YEAH, YOU BIG STRONG BOY." I nodded in agreement, and then went home and laughed about it. I will never again laugh at someone stumbling over language barriers. All I do nowadays is stumble.
The story: I'm talking with my host mother, Teresa. She asks me what I'm doing. I tell her Jose and I are gonna meet up with some amigas. She asks where. I tell her, la esquina de Santa Fe y Paraguay. She asks me para que? (As in, what for?). I thought that she was correcting me on the pronunciation of the word Paraguay. So I pronounce it more like her: Paragay. She responds again, para que? I think that maybe my pronunciation is still off, so i try it again, Paraqay. She looks back at me, and says, "Si, pero para que?" I hit her back with Paraqay. She says back Para que? Paraqay! Para que? Paraqay! Para que? PARAQAY!! We go back and forth for about 5 minutes. Finally, I think she's messing with me and she thinks I'm mocking her. We lock eyes, she picks up a water bottle on the table, and smacks me in the head with it. Suddenly it snaps into my head: Ohhhh, para que?!?!? Para ir al cine con nuestras amigas. She lets out the biggest sigh ever, shakes her head, and walks off. I'm pretty confident it's not the last time I'm gonna take a waterbottle to the head from her.

A short note

Thanks for everybody who has been appreciating the blog. I've sort of been settling into the routine of school lately, so things have been a little less exciting. You know the drill. Homework, classes, having to stop our nights at around 3:30 instead of 6:30 in the morning (Kidding Mom and Dad) (To all my friends, not kidding).
So I thought I would give anyone curious a little taste of my daily routine. I wake up in the morning, go downstairs and grab some breakfast, shower, and then head out to my bus. It's the 152 Olivos a Boca Linea that I grab on Suipacha Street. There's so many buses here that they all have their own specific color coding system. It makes it feel like every bus on your line is part of a specific club or something. I have a lot of 152 Line pride. I've also been considering starting a gang war with the 39 bus line, who have been encroaching on our turf lately. As soon as I can I'll definitely put a picture of them up. (Sorry about the pictures, I'm a little flustered and I haven't had time to do the real tourist thing). But anyways, on the bus line, there are three fares, 1.10, 1.20, 1.25. When you get on the bus you just tell the guy which fare you want to pay. I'm still unclear on why anyone chooses the more expensive fares. It must have something to do with distance but it's bizarre because the bus driver has no way of knowing how far you're going. So I just always tell him "peso diez." The other thing that's awesome about the bus is that the guy never really comes to a full stop. You have to furiously wave him down on the street or he just won't pull over for you. Sometimes he pulls over halfway and you have to run out into traffic to get onto the bus. Sometimes the minute you get on he just pulls away. Yesterday because there was a payment line I just had to hang onto the open doors as he sped off down the street. Anyways, I get to class, spend a good long time at the academic center, and then catch a bus home.
Once I got home yesterday I tried to take a jog. Felt nice but kind of a bad idea. The place I had to jog was down an 8 lane street called Libertadores. There are no smog regulations here so every car spews a tailpipe of smoke whenever they take off. I also had to run by the bus depot, where they leave all the old diesel buses idling all day. I get back from the jog, shower, get fed my daily dinner of some massive meat dish with no vegetables or salad. (Last night it was flank steak roasted in the oven with potatoes). It's like a 6 year old's dream. Then I usually spend 30 minutes arguing with my host-mother about something. Last night it was religion. She believes in God, none of her real sons do, and I tried to explain to her that I don't either. She knows I'm Jewish and Catholic and kept asking me which side did I feel more pulled to. I finally acquiesced and said Catholic, but that the Jewish ceremonies were a lot more fun (sorry Ma).
After my host mom and I have gotten in some bizarre conversation I have to take a nap to recharge the batteries. Sometime around 11, once all the homework is done, we may go out for a little. Last night we got drinks for a friend's 21st birthday. The scene is crazy but you never miss anything if you head home a little early, like 4 or so. Still gives me plenty of time to sleep and be chipper for class in the morning. Once the homework gets heavier I doubt I'll be able to keep that schedule up, but as of now it's been just fine.
One more note; It's really hot here. Like 90 degrees every day. Right now it's 82, but with humidity it feels like 88 (I didn't just ballpark that, it's an official weather.com statistic). And there's just no air conditioning, at least not at the spots I've been hanging out at. Our room is like a sauna. We have one rotating fan, and you guys all know how that is. 10 seconds of sweating, 3 seconds of a little relief from the heat, and then another 10 seconds of sweating, repeated all night. I can't complain though, I'm sure it's better than the New York winter. Hopefully this weekend I'll get to do a little sightseeing, get to take a couple pictures, maybe get to fill you in on something more important than my schedule. Until then.

Alex

I'm actually in Argentina

So I'm finally in Argentina. Since I don't call or write or communicate in any way, I'm sure everyone must be curious what I'm doing, and I'd love to fill you in.
First off, Buenos Aires is incredible. To everyone who suggested I go here and gave me good tips about the city, much thanks. To all the haters who told me I wouldn't have as much fun as if I had gone somewhere in Europe, I'm simply appalled by your ignorance.
First off the city itself. First impression is just how big it is. It's also an odd mix between massive metropolitan and small city feel. I live on a block long quiet street called Sargento Cabral, right next to the Plaza de San Martin. The street is one lane, hardly any traffic, and always quiet. Less than two blocks away from there, however, is the widest avenue in the world, Avenida 9 de Julio. I have yet to make it all the way across in one stoplight cycle. I would run but the Argentines frown on heavy exertion.
Second off, the people. Yes the Argentine women are beautiful. This is played out. They all have incredible tans, they are all perfect weight, and they have really cute accents. I can't write about it because I simply can't do it justice. I've never seen anything like it. Hopefully some pictures to come soon. They are also very friendly. Everybody loves to talk to you. Yesterday, trying to find my way somewhere, I asked a couple where the street was that I was going. They spent 5 minutes giving me directions, each decided the other's directions were wrong, and then they got into a full argument in front of us. My Spanish is still a work in progress but I think the woman told her husband that he was such an idiot that he was embarassing himself.
My friend Joe and I live in a homestay with an Argentine woman, named Teresa. She is a gem, there is simply no other way to put it. She serves us amazing dinners every night, and has long talks with me about everything that we can think of. Last night we chatted about finding love. I keep confusing the verbs esconder and encontrar. One is to find, one is to hide. For the last 5 days apparently instead of telling her that I am trying to find love I've been telling her that I am trying to hide from love. When she finally realized what I was saying she told me that my Spanish was so bad that I had no hope of finding love (encontrar) and instead should go hide in my room (esconder). I now understand the difference.
Yesterday I got locked out of my apartment and had to wait on the steps for my hostmom to get home. The doorman of our building came out and decided to engage me in conversation since he knew I had no escape route. He gave me a long lecture on why Americans are cold and are not as capable of love as the Latin Americans. He then told me that Americans like to drink so much because they have an unquenchable thirst, but that because he has such a powerful heart he doesn't have to drink much at all, since he doesn't need the effects of alcohol to fill his heart. Then he told me how his son is 25 and still lives at home. I commented that that must be good for the family but seems like it really would cramp his son's love life. He admitted that it did indeed cramp his son's love life but it was worth it for the fact that he was able to hold his son close to his chest at any time he wanted. He summed it all up by telling me that he had a heart full of fire and passion. The Argentines love to talk so much that they sometimes get ahead of themselves and end up giving out a real line of bullshit, but it always makes for a good story.

I'll try and update this as often as possible, or at least as often as anything newsworthy happens to me

Alex