¡Bienvenidas!

Hello everyone! This is Erin’s blog about aspiring to be an Argentinian while studying abroad, so if you’re not here to read all about the trials and adventures of my semester in Mendoza, Argentina…go away because you’re in the wrong place.  For those who do want to hear my thoughts and stories, read on! I will try to post regularly, but I’m not making any promises. Let’s begin.

Well, after numerous delays, cancellations, drug searches, and concerns over missing people, we’re finally safe in Buenos Aires! Well, most of us are – a few unfortunate souls got caught in snow storms before they had a chance to leave the state. José, our program advisor, was thankfully waiting just outside customs, saving us from the horrifying possibility of finding our own way to the Hotel de las Americanas. An American trying to navigate the streets of Buenos Aires doesn’t sound too horrifying until you realize that your two choices are playing human frogger with the traffic or entering a never-ending labyrinth of complicated bus routes. Neither option is appealing.  Argentinians drive with obvious carelessness, obliviousness, road rage, and little- to-no regard for the few traffic laws that actually exist.  Road signs and stop lights are definitely more like guidelines than actual rules and, because of this, crossing streets or hailing cabs can sometimes turn into a deadly mating dance with luck.  As for the labyrinths, José told us not to even attempt to figure them out.  Argentinians who have lived in Buenos Aires their whole lives get lost in that tangled web of buses…I can only imagine what would happen to a clueless American. 

So, once we were safely on a hired coach bus, we began our journey to the heart of Buenos Aires.  For those of you who don’t know, Buenos Aires boasts a population of over 12 million people.  I kid you not when I say that after passing the outskirts of the city we drove for AN ENTIRE HOUR through skyscrapers, apartment complexes, and businesses to get to the center of this massive city (which is noted by what looks like an exact replica of the Washington Monument and a giant portrait of Eva Peron). It is impossible to comprehend the size of this city without experiencing it for yourself. 

By this time, most of us have been introduced thanks to our block seating on the plane ride down to Buenos Aires, and the awkward stages of “I don’t know anyone here” are over.  We even had the great fortune of sitting next to Rodrigo, a 26 year old Argentinian returning from a vacation in America.  He provided countless hours of amusement by telling us all of the “do’s” and “don’ts” and “definitely do not’s” about city life.  He even offered to escort our group to one of his favorite bodichas (clubs) or discotecas (dance clubs) after our jet lag goes away. 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Argentinians today, it’s that everyone does what they want, when they want. And they can be quite demanding as well.  For example, while standing in an outrageously long line for customs (well, really it was more of a mob), all of the Argentinians started clapping loudly, in sync, which is a sign of annoyance and displeasure. Rodrigo explained that clapping hands, in this scenario, meant “let us through that damn gate before we get really angry”.  Here’s another example: if an appointment is set at say…15:30 (they use military time), it is entirely possible that one or more parties participating in this meeting would not show up until 16:30 or 17:00.  Time means nothing to Argentinians.  The word “late” holds no significance here, and Argentinians simply cannot understand Americans obsession with time.  

After having an unfortunate run-in with a bidet (I swear the poor girl in the next room sounded like she accidentally gave herself an enema), we headed out towards my favorite part of the evening: dinner.  As most of you know, the Latin culture holds a later schedule than most which is why we didn’t walk the few blocks to a famous pizzeria until 9pm, which is still considered early for dinner.  For those of you who don’t know, Argentina is full of influences from the Italians and Spaniards – mostly the Italians – which explains why this was THE BEST PIZZA OF MY LIFE! If there was some way I could share that experience with you, I would, because no one in this world should die before eating pizza this magnificent.  Oh, and one of the pizzas actually had hard boiled eggs on it (how cool is that?!?!?). 

José gave us a free pass on not speaking Spanish today as we were all so jetlagged and overstimulated that we could barely hold a conversation in English, let alone Spanish.  However, starting with tomorrow only Castellano (Spanish) will be will be allowed.  Wish me luck; I’m going to need it. 

Until next time!  More adventures of Buenos Aires to come.