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Published: November 25th 2007
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The 14th floor vista
to my right: Pueyrredon & Cordoba Avenues Dedicated to the loving memory of Dorothy Gazall & Jeff Stout. True instruments of peace.
It’s great to be back in touch with family and friends again, Since I’ve returned from home in St. Louis at the end of July, life erupted for me in big Buenos Aires. It feels phenomenal to be movin-and-groovin as much as I have, given that I arrived with nothing more than my luggage and an apartment in March. However, it’s just ridiculous that I have not made the time to sit down and write. Looking at my previous posts, those days of that tranquil, “endless summer” setting of Mal Pais have long been replaced by the BA hustle-and-bustle. Now, there is only a sea made of people boasting a population of nearly three million people in the immediate Capital Federal.
I realize that I need to post pictures and fill in facets of my life over the past eight months. With the start of summer, it’s bizarre to recall the images of people bundled-up during what was one of the coldest winters to date in BA as it snowed for the first time since 1918. I remember it being so frigidly and uncomfortably
Vista 2
to my left: Santa Fe & Pueyrredon Avenues cold in my previous apartment. That place was a blessing and a curse. Stylistically, it was an amazing as we hosted parties almost every weekend. And, I loved my roommates, Liz (McD) from Nerinx, and her fiancé, Tom. However, we were plagued with problem after problem. (FYI…Bed begs do exist, they do bite, and according to a National Geographic article, they are making their way back to the States via all the travelers. So, check the bed of the next hotel you stay in). When it was a “good” day, I announced that, “I can’t believe we’ve gone the whole day bugless, and with hot water, heat, and Internet!” I only proudly declared this about ten times in six months. Additionally, the Argentine-“manana”-lax attitude towards customer service only created more hurdles rather than taking them away.
We’d receive the normal “manana” (tomorrow) response from Cristian, our “landlord.” However, we thought that life was playing a joke on us when we attempted to get the important things fixed. We would report a problem, and each time, he would furrow his eyebrows and scratch his head, (like he was actually concerned), and would mutter “que raro,” meaning “how strange.” Strange?! If
bienvenido
my studio. bathroom to left, kitchen right, bed, desk, TV, balcony. I was in my Spanish-arguing mood, I would bite back exclaiming, “we have neither heat , NOR hot water, and it’s about 35 degrees outside, and you call this RARO?!” (Hello, McFly, anybody home?!) Arguing with him made me feel like I was swinging punches in a straight-jacket. He just never cared. This response/treatment is not to be confused with what one would call Argentine hospitality. Cristian's attitude was an extreme example of the manana mentality. Now, McD and I look back, and usually laugh about his shenanigans.
You just have to know better as a foreigner. A taxi driver from Uruguay once commented to me that a foreigner “must learn to adapt (adaptarse) themselves,” in this city. I'm not saying that people should be expected to adapt living without any heat. But, one way to not pull your hair out is to never expect anything to be on time. I suppose that you have to discover your own ways of tolerance in order to really begin to adapt, or you will certainly go nuts.
By now, I have reversed my mentality to expect more problems than not. I’m not more pessimistic, just more prepared. If I decide
la cocina chica
I love my lil’ kitchen. Although, I am ecstatic to move to place with a fridge that won’t freeze EVERYTHING!
to take the bus to work on a weekday afternoon, then I usually plan an extra 10-20 minute delay and/or reroute due to a possible protest. The worst is when the subway strikes. For me, it’s the quickest way to get to work, and when it shuts down, the streets, buses and cabs are flooded with people. Why do they strike? Usually, it’s for better wages and working conditions. Teachers, ambulance drivers, hospital personal, construction, subway and casino workers…everyone strikes. The month is almost over, and I thought there was supposed to be a strike by the local bus drivers. Running 24 hours throughout Capital Federal are about 200 different bus lines. The funny thing is that I would not have to deal with these transitory headaches, if I would just move closer to work. But, I love my barrio (neighborhood). I have my “local” everything. I know the people at each place and they know me, even if we only exchange smiles. Plus, I do actually enjoy the “journey” to work. There are things that I would have never seen if all I walked was a handful of blocks like Lucy, my beloved boss.
Thus far, my subway
Maya's bday.
04Nov07. mini party at my place. Maya and I met here in '04 on the same study abroad program. rides are the most entertaining. I can actually say that I, myself, prevented a robbery. It was the craziest thing. It literally felt like a “Good Samaritan” act had taken place. It happened a month ago while I was waiting to change lines. Since that time, I’ve had seven people (2 today) tell me about how they were robbed, or were almost robbed. Well, 6 people here, and poor Ginny in the States. It’s a shame that I wasn’t there to kick some butt. Yucka, yucka.
So, the story… Waiting for the subway on the C line, which can take about 7-10 minutes, I did my normal scan of people-watching as I listened to my music. Propped casually against the wall to the right of me, was this seemingly harmless kid of about 15 years old. I didn’t think anything of him until I noticed the way he was people-watching. He wasn’t watching them, he was targeting them. On a number of instances, our eyes met, and I gave him the Robert DeNiro, “I’m-watching-you-Focker,” look. Then, like walking into a trap, these two, young backpacker gals strolled right past him, and lined up to enter the doors. He stepped
closely behind their zippered packs, and draped his coat over his arm in order to conceal his hands. I quickly thought, “Oh no way is this happening on my watch,” as I tightened my body and stood firmly behind him. That just seemed like the best idea. I didn’t what to do, but I couldn’t just be a witness. He felt my eyes burning the back of his head as I heavily cleared my throat to announce my presence. He looked back slightly, and once the doors opened, he bolted empty-handed for the adjacent car. My adrenaline was running, but I was so relieved. I felt like my work was incomplete, so I walked over to the gals and told them what had happened, and for them to be more aware. They were very grateful, and my good deed for the day was done. Riding in the subway car, I was overcome with what a crummy situation the whole thing was, and felt really sorry for the kid.
In about a week, I will move into my third apartment located seven blocks from my current abode where I signed a contract through May. Looking back, I appreciate all of
the past and current challenges of living in this city. In each day, I try hard to search for the counterbalancing random acts of kindness and generosity.
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Keith Melton
non-member comment
Nice to see a new post
Hi Kate, It's nice to get an update. I know you're quite busy, but it's always good to hear how things are going with you. We just saw your grandparents on Saturday and learned you didn't make it home for Thanksgiving and probably wouldn't for Christmas either. We'll miss you, but understand your need to do what you're doing. We'll be looking forward to seeing you the next time your toes land in the US of A!