Oh gosh, I´m a Foreigner!

So today was funny. My Spanish class got canceled so I had the whole day to myself. I woke up at 9 and thought, oh no, is what I’m feeling immediately when I’m waking up homesickness? No, this can’t be, don’t think about it, don’t think about it! So I decided to pamper myself with a slow, relaxing breakfast in my PJs with delicious coffee made by Malbina our maid. I got myself dressed and decided to start my Spanish paper. I had to change into a tank top and running shorts because the heat was on so high that I was sitting in loads of sweat. I couldn’t figure out if Malbina wanted to clean in the heat, I don’t know, as a work out, or if she just forgot to turn it off. Anyway I finished my Spanish paper and decided to take a walk. I bought some really good bread crackers to go with my lunch and headed back. I had lunch, listened to a little Maná and read my book (which you all should read…Confessions of an Economic Hit Man by John Perkins). Since having food poisoning I’ve had really bad indigestion so I had to take another anti acid pill. Around 2:45 I headed out for yoga and decided to run there this time. It only took me 20 min to run there and I felt GREAT! I was really impressed that I ran 20 min without getting super tired, yay me! I don’t know maybe you think I’m pathetic for thinking that, but hey, I’ve never been a runner. So I ran all the way to the cross section of Peña and Bustamonte but I’m not exactly sure where the yoga studio is because I usually go with my friends and to be honest haven’t really paid attention. So unfortunately, I can’t find it. I try texting my other friends who usually go with me but they are in class. Luckily Carrie checks her phone and texts me the cross street but for the life of me I really can’t find the darn studio even after looking at the N S E and W corners! I kind of start to freak out thinking, oh my gosh, did I just run all the way (yep, all 20 min) and I can’t find the darn studio!? I run to a few other streets thinking something might look familiar. I see three men standing talking and I approach them, and actually ask them in correct Spanish if they know of a yoga studio around here that I might be looking for. They were so funny and nice and were so eager to help me. One pulls out a huge map of the city and they both are arguing about where the studio is (which ends up being the wrong one). I stop to think about my situation and I just start laughing. The three men aren’t sure why I’m laughing and I can’t really explain why. He first tells me to go 10 blocks and I immediately know that can´t be right. I know I´m in the general area. Finally after some more friendly bickering with the other and the map the cop tells me to just walk 2 blocks and its on the left. So I tell them how thankful I am for their help, even though he just told me to go back in the direction I just came from…where I couldn’t find the studio. So, I run back and tell myself that I´m going to walk two blocks in each direction on Bustamonte and if I can’t find it, I´ll walk back. By now my sweat is making me cold and I realize that all that was blocking me from seeing the yoga studio was some mass construction. I arrive laughing at myself and my utter foreignness. I wonder, why do I make things so difficult for myself…is there a local 411 I will learn about for times like these where I don’t know the name, cross street, or phone number of where I’m going? It cracks me up being in a foreign country when this happens. Hopefully I continue to laugh and not get consumed by frustration. And to make the afternoon that much better, I walked by a flock of young, beautiful men all dressed up in white button up shirts with their beautiful dark skin and slick black hair. It was great. They didn’t notice me though; however, an old fat man did when he was walking out of his apartment. He stopped and saw me and put a hand to my shoulder gently guiding me past his door. I just laughed. I looked disgusting. I recalled being stuck on the street looking for my yoga studio and how people just stared at me like I was the first sweaty girl running by in sweat pants they had seen. Women here don’t work out.

Just another day in paradise here in Buenos Aires! I love it! (PS: I’m not being sarcastic).

---

---