Último día en Mendoza...

This is my last night in Mendoza for a few weeks! Tomorrow I begin my journey traveling around Argentina... first stop Cordoba, and then I head to the northern provinces of Salta, Jujuy and Tucuman to do some research about folk music (thank you Bates College for giving me some pesos). Because I still need to pack, spend time with the family/friends, and do other such things, I leave you with a few pictures to explain what I've been doing. You can make up a story to go with each photo until I give everyone details...


Hiking in Cacheuta. Yes, that white bird in front of the mountain IS a condor.


Mi mama, Dina, making alfajores!

Holy Zonda

So after telling various family members that I was going to update my blog either yesterday or the day before... I clearly decided to do other things instead. But don't you worry--I have thoroughly received punishment for not following through with my word. I have been forced by Mother Nature herself into this internet cafe where I am currently writing thanks to the Viento Zonda. Basically, it's a really, really strong wind that brings dry air and dust from the ocean off the coast of Chile into the region of Mendoza. When the wind reaches the Andes, it descends into Mendoza and the nearby provinces and blows up a mountain of dust, leaves, and every other item of trash left on the streets. The wind is super, super hot and when it is over (sometimes they last for more than 12 hours), the temperature drops SIGNIFICANTLY. So imagine a somewhat apocalyptic scene where the whole city is covered by a dark grey cloud, dust/leaves are violently tossed into the air, and everyone is running around trying to find some sort of cover. Now add the image of a random giant pile of leaves on fire in one of the plazas in the center because... well, I don´t really know why there was a pile of leaves on fire. Meanwhile I'm running around trying not to inhale too much and constantly looking up to make sure an old tree doesn't drop a branch on top of my head... and if you can imagine, STILL RECEIVING PIROPOS (catcalls from men--refer to an earlier post for more information regarding piropos). Holy ZONDA! What a crazy, crazy experience... Every orifice of my body is saturated with sand/dust/random-god-knows-what from the city streets and the ocean beyond.

Aside from this fun Zonda adventure, I have been keeping myself thoroughly busy since the last time I posted (I guess that is a continual theme in my life on this continent). I can successfully cross of a number of goals, as well as add a few more (and then cross them off). I have taken a class about wine (one that, I kid you not, tasted exactly, and I mean EXACTLY, like red peppers that had been cooked on top of a pizza: Finca Quora, Pecado, from Salta, Cab Sav from 2008), spent 24 hours straight without speaking/writing a single word of English (except when those words happen to be the same... for example they say the word "chance," "pullover," and "heavy with frequency in Mendoza) and, a goal that I didn't include but should have, spent pretty much an entire day drinking mate in the Plaza Independencia. Not to mention the fact that I have gone to over 6 folk concerts over the last week! And I just can't tell you in words how incredible these performances were...one better than the last! Something about the musica folclorica really creates a fire inside me. My blood pulses better with a soundtrack of flutes, guitar, charango, and cajas pounding in the background.

Perhaps the coolest thing I have done recently was going to the hot thermal springs in Cacheuta, a mountain town about 40km southwest of Mendoza close to the Chilean border/in the Andes. I went with a friend of mine from the program, along with her boyfriend (he's from Mendoza), and we spent a day TAN LINDO (so so beautiful) in the hot springs. You just lounge about outdoors in an incredibly refreshing, tropical bath that happens to be on the slope of the world's longest continental mountain range (along with being unbearably beautiful and dramatic). Needless to say, I had a pretty good time. On the bus ride to the springs there weren't enough seats to fit all of us, so there was also some random guy sitting on the stairs cracking open cans of Andes (the Budweiser of Argentina, but way better) after Andes and offering a gulp to all the other passengers on the bus. Meanwhile Elsa (my friend), Olaf (boyfriend), and I attempted and succeeded to drink mate after mate after mate, which, though it sounds easy, involves pouring near-boiling hot water into a gourd that you must first fill with dried yerba (the mate leaves).


So that's all for now, folks! Stay tuned for more intense action/wine in the life of Limor...



Hot springs in Cacheuta!


Me standing in a really cool tree in the campus of Faculty of Agrarian Sciences.

¡Qué peña!

With less than two months in Argentina, I have begun to understand some fundamental Limor-isms that will follow me, regardless of which country I am in or the language I am speaking. Though I have always been essentially myself, during the first half of my experience I felt a strong urge to push outside myself and adventure into the unknown and uncomfortable (this does not refer to something like walking through the center at 4am alone, booty shorts, etc. etc.). For example, going to a boliche, dibbling a bit of scary-looking meat, taking a shot of tequila with Argentine friends. All of these things were the bad sort of unknown and uncomfortable. On the flip side, we have things like staying out until 5 am and dancing so hard to Led Zeppelin that people actually shook my hand, making friends with the woman who makes honey with raisins and almonds, traveling to Tunuyan at 10 at night to work on an organic farm, accepting an offer to go drink mate in the park with someone I barely know.

But let's get back to the Limor-isms. As it turns out, I am equally parts social aficionado as I am hibernating recluse. Since the age of 16ish, I've had some crazy bouts of social anxiety sprinkled here and there to shake my self-esteem up. Going to college was really the low point for all this silly social hoo-haa, but since last summer's stay in the Vermont woods I have had a total and complete turn-around with the anxiety stuff. My last semester at Bates I really felt perfectly at ease with exactly what I was doing, who I was doing it with, and how I spent the 24 hours of my day. And just when I thought all that business was drowning in the Cooley Glen Shelter, it reared its feo pockmarked face in Argentina. For a month or so I felt that same inadequacy, etc. that I felt in the past... only this time I didn't have the woods to help me out (I will never take advantage of having a natural patch of trees in my backyard ever again). But it's almost as if getting older actually makes you learn...? Weird. It helps that I love my host family and being in this house, but I have pretty much stayed in every single night since coming back from the farm. I know that might seem pretty normal to some of you, but for a 20 year-old in Argentina with about 23409x less homework than I am accustomed to, this is just balderdash (and I use that word sparingly, mind you). Don't get me wrong, I am taking advantage of the DAY (Limor-ism) as opposed to pretending to like being in a smokey bar listening to bad music just because it's a Saturday night.

Yesterday morning I went with two friends to nearby Lujan to the U. Nacional de Cuyo campus of Ciencas Agrarias (think lots of greenhouses, displays of wine, agriculture, and trees). In an open field behind the academic building there was a peña going on all day. A peña is a meeting of artists and/or musicians that come together to play together, feed on the energy of the música folclórica, eat great asado/wine, dance to the beat of liveliness under the stars and in the grass. Essentially, everything I love about Argentine music/culture and what I am planning on studying after the semester is over/writing my thesis about when I return. I am continually amazed that a.) I can hold an intelligent conversation in Spanish, b.) I have the courage to engage in conversation with people I don't know, c.) I like dancing so much... Not only that, but I ended up seeing two people that I worked on the farm with last week, as well as another woman from France who studies ANTHROPOLOGY. Needless to say I had an absolutely phenomenal day, made some great connections, and spoke to a few different musicians about their music and will hopefully be meeting up with them again in the future to talk some more.

Aside from having profound personal understandings, I have also been doing a lot of drinking tea with my family, reading books in Spanish (currently reading "El Hobbit"), and sleeping. But with less than two months left, I think it's about time I make a rough list of things I want to accomplish before my semester ends/before I come home:

1.) Rent rollerblades and go skating through General Parque San Martín

2.) Make alfajores

3.) Set up my own stand at a fair and sell my own peanut butter

4.) Go to Córdoba

5.) Play the charango (folk instrument similar to a mandolin)

6.) Climb more mountains in the Andes

7.) Go skiing in the Andes

8.) Take a class about wine

9.) Spend one full day without writing/speaking a single word of English

There are more and I will add them as I think them up!

Enjoy the beautiful spring/summer weather while I bundle up in scarves and thick socks.

I live here. Jealous?

La aventura continua...

Today marks three months exactly in Mendoza. Just giving some frame of reference...

I have been keeping myself relatively busy these last few weeks, and when I say relatively busy I mean that I have an adventure of sorts every day. Yes, today my adventure was trying to explain that I wanted crushed cinnamon as opposed to cinnamon sticks, but it was still rather adventurous. It involved walking down a street I never have before in this city, as well as bumping into a new ice cream shop (which I may or may not have entered and proceeded to order a scoop of super dulce de leche and another of chocolate Rocher).

Earlier this month I went to Valparaíso, Chile with a fellow member of the Bates College Class of 2011, and consequently my roommate for the upcoming school year. Though we were only actually in Chile for a little over two days, we managed to pack in a ridiculous amount of awesome activities to fill the time. For example, we went to one of Pablo Neruda's house, La Sebastian, had a private boat tour in the bay of Valparaíso, ate fresh sea food on the water front, watched the sunset over the Pacific Ocean while on top of sand dunes, drank the best hot chocolate that my taste buds have ever had the pleasure of touching, and a silly amount of things more. And to top it all off, we took a bus ride through the Andes to cross the border of Argentina into Chile. Mendoza is a straight shot (more of less) west of Valparaíso, so to cross over, the micro takes you through a road winding up, down, sideways, longways, snosberries, through the Andes. It was at once the most beautiful, thrilling, and terrifying bus ride I may have ever experienced.

This past weekend I made my way slightly north of Mendoza with a few friends to take advantage of the time we have off thanks to the Bicentenario of Argentina, 200 years of national independence, cheap meat, great wine, and alfajores. We went to the city of San Jaun, small but very tranquil and similar in looks/design to Mendoza. After spending 4 hours in the city, during which we ate about $50 pesos worth of vegetarian food at an incredible restaurant as well as took a lame tour of a bodega in a cave, we traveled north-west to a town called San Agustín de Valle Fértil. This pueblo chiquitito of less than 3000 people is the most convenient place to stay if you are planning on visiting Parque Provincial Ichigualasto or Parque Nacional Talampaya, which we coincidentally enough happened to explore. I really can't describe either of these places with words (neither English nor Spanish), so you will just have to imagine me doing my flipping-out, making noise, body-jerk thing that I do when I'm overwhelmed and trying to explain myself. There is a place in Ichigualasto called Valle de la Luna, Valley of the Moon, that blew my mind with colors and layers of rocks that I didn't know could be in the same mountain or naturally found in nature. In Talampaya... well, I had quite a moment of emotion that I will surely remember forever.

Tomorrow promises greatness, as we are having a party in my wood carving class to celebrate the Bicentenario. For those of you who don't know, I am learning how to carve really awesome things into wood at the Cultural Center in Mendoza with a group of about five women over 60, one old man who pretends to be disgruntled but is really just bashful and has the most beautiful smile, and one artsy woman in her mid-30s who dyes her hair pink. It's my favorite three hours of my week. We drink tea and eat alfajores and tortitas while the old ladies make fun of me for not smoking cigarettes and then proceed to teach me dirty words/phrases. And I absolutely LOVE working with my hands and creating these somewhat useless wooden objects. It's really really difficult to find raw, unfinished wood here, but I managed to finagle a 60 cm piece of ceder that is INCREDIBLE. Anyway, so we're going to eat tons of great Argentine food tomorrow, and immediately afterward I am hopping on a bus to go south to a little town called Tunuyan. There is an organic farm called Madre Tierra and I'm going to be volunteering for a few days to get out of the city and learn some.

Time to eat the peanut butter I made earlier today with some dulce de leche and my family! Oh, my family is AMAZING.


Lunch anyone?



Me with some really great rocks in Talampaya.


Hermanos and I celebrating the Bicentenario.

La vida buena

Wow. I've been pretty bad at updating this unless I have insomnia and it's 5 in the morning and I've got nothing better to do than kill mosquitos and twiddle my dedos. But! Here we are again with another insightful and seat-gripping post that will make you cry/sweat/bleed/fill that insatiable whole in the pit of your stomach that only a Limor can fill.

As of yesterday I moved out of my first house here in Mendoza and into house 2.0. I never considered how hard it might be living with a completely new family, trying to integrate myself into the family rhythm, adjust to the family rules... especially when they are absolutely insane and asinine. But I've left the negative energy behind and am now in a completely different section of the city with a completely different family. A little insight: the walls in the kitchen are painted lime green, accented with hand-crafted and painted ceramics, old photographs, and kitchy-whatnots. Most of the furniture has been painted by my sister Jeannete (24, tranquiiiila, studying to be an artist/musician/actriz/whatever outlet presents itself for creating things), and the walls are covered with art. Enter my bedroom: a little nook equipped with drawers, a dresser, a funky little lamp that makes the room purple if I want to, and two doors that lead outside to a roof/terrace that I can go out on ANYTIME I want without fear of an alarm going off and having to answer a secret code to the disgruntled man on the phone. When I came home from school/volunteering today, I could hear my mom, sister, and brother running to the door and my siblings both saying "no, I'm going to open it!"

A very important concept down here is that of 'onda'. In effect, onda is similar to the word vibe, only it is used with more frequency. Example, that hippy from South Dakota that is traveling through Mendoza and gave me a hand-painted rose has a buena onda (buena means good). It's really common to refer to a person who has either buena onda or mala onda... a house that has buena onda... a social interaction/situation with buena onda. So let me say that my family, house, and everything in between has a BUENISIMA onda. I feel like I am wanted, welcome, and respected. I also live a block and a half away from General Parque San Martin, an enormous park that is on the foothills of the Andes and is equipped with ample green spaces, a depressing zoo (which I mistakenly visited last weekend), a lake with an island in the center you can visit and tons of crazy trees, a small mountain to climb, an infinite amount of secret places inhabited by bums, Argentines making out, and nature-nature-nature. Especially now, with all the leaves changing and sprinkling the world with orange, yellow, and brown, I know this is the place for me (it's currently autumn in Mendoza... wicked pretty, but not New England pretty).

During the last few weeks I have been significantly improving my command of the Spanish language. Sometimes I really feel like I'm getting the hang of it, but yet I always have moments of extreme frustrating when I can't conjugate a verb, lack the vocabulary to say something, or just can't seem to move my mouth/tongue in the way I need to to form words and sentences. Overall though, I find myself less and less in situations where I can't express my thoughts, and I even found myself debating the subject of climate change with a friend here. That's right. A friend. I've somehow managed to meet a group of really really fun people here that I feel comfortable and happy around. Last weekend we went to a pajama party together (a great story, if anyone wants to hear the details another time), and sometime in the recent past gathered at a friend's house, bought all the fixings for smores, and taught the Mendocinos how to make the most delicious fire-themed snack there is. One of them even bought a kilo of marshmallows the day after because he liked them so much. Overall, I am so, so content and happy.

What else to say? I am REALLY good at making peanut butter, learned how to cook some classic Argentine food last weekend (flan, pan casero, Humita, empanadas) in the countryside, can dance folklore, am learning how to carve wood, and can say lots of dirty words in Spanish. I leave you with some photos of what I've been up to:


Me in Portrerillos--beautiful town west of Mendoza.


Tiger looking at me at the zoo.

Los pensamientos enmarañados de una insomne

It is currently 5:38 am in Mendoza and I am awake. If it were a Saturday or Sunday morning, this would be entirely acceptable because it would likely mean I had/were having an adventurous evening that turned into morning. However, as it is Thursday and I have 4 classes tomorrow, being up at 5:40 (two minutes gone by already) is really undesirable.

I find myself in a rather bizarre mood (as is expected from a newly born insomniac) this morning, but hope that this will go away when the sun comes up and I can pretend that I feel refreshed and excited for what will come. This is not the first time I have had intense trouble sleeping, though it is the longest time I have been up in one night without wanting to be. I don't know what it is about being here, if it has anything to do with being here, but since arriving I have had at least two really horrible nights of sleep a week. Usually after 4 hours of reading books, pretending to sleep, looking through old photos on my computer, rereading old essays and being amazed at how much stuff I have forgotten, manically hunting down a sole buzzing mosquito... I am able to fall back asleep for a few hours. At this point, my alarm is set for one hour and fifteen minutes from now. Is it worth it to try a little more?

I completely neglected to write anything about my trip to El Bolsón and for that I apologize. I spent five days (two of which don't count as they were spent sitting on a bus) exploring mountains, trees, people, water, food, and thin ozone. All of which are things I love, especially thin ozone. According to very reliable sources (Wikipedia, obviously), "Since stratospheric ozone is produced by solar UV radiation, one might expect to find the highest ozone levels over the tropics and the lowest over polar regions." In terms that I can understand at 5:50 am, the ozone layer is thinner in Patagonia and regions really far south (as well as way up yonder in northland). I don't know if this delicate thinness has anything to do with the beauty and ethereal nature of El Bolsón, but I think that's what I will attribute it to. The sunlight was distinct, as far as I am concerned. Everything always seemed to glow a little when the light hit it, and I have proof of this with many many many photos I took while exploring.

To give a much less "I'm writing this way too early and on way too little sleep" explanation of my trip... I traveled with three other girls on my program who share my desire to sleep outside, hike a bunch, meet random people, and eat dulce de leche with everything. We hiked Piltriquitron, a beast of a mountain in the Andes that has a view of Chile and a billion other beautiful mountains, lakes, trees, nature nature nature, etc. After hiking we ate homemade pizza and beer in the refugio, the somewhat equivalent to a shelter or hut on the AT, but way cheaper and more prevalent on the trail. After spending the next day hanging out in the little town of El Bolsón and exploring the enormous artisan market, we hiked along Río Azúl (the Blue River). Let me tell you, this river is blue. Yes, the sky is a very lovely color, as is the Atlantic Ocean. But Río Azúl is really, really, really, really, wicked blue. The woods that surrounded the river reminded me a lot of Appalachian woods, except the obvious difference in the lack of a maple, oak, and pine leaf floor. And in addition to all this, we befriended Hernan the artisan, Juan the upkeeper, and Ruben the taxista and our surrogate father while traveling. One night we cooked a real US dinner of Grilled Cheese (but gourmet with avocado, good cheese, grilled mushrooms, and caramelized onions) and drank like real Argentines (fernet con Coca-Cola y vino) and talked until there was almost no point in going to sleep... kind of like right now.

Classes have really begun and life is started to acquire some kind of rhythm. Some days are still better than others, but I have still yet to feel completely lost here. I still can't tell if my Spanish has improved, but I do feel much more at ease in the city and with what I'm doing here. Time is flying by inappropriately too fast and I am finding myself engaging in life in unexpected and exhilarating ways. I still don't have any friends that are from Mendoza, but I have friends from other places. Así es la vida.


Hiking up Piltriquitron.


Dinner with our new friends.

El destino de M&Ms y Pesach

As of Saturday, I have begun to believe in the concept of fate. Out of all the supermarkets and kiosks, outdoor markets and vendors on the streets, random people selling you stuff on the street and cafes in the city of Mendoza, I happen to live roughly two blocks away from a store that sells peanut M&Ms. For a mere $7.95 pesos, I can be the happiest little gringa in this lovely country, as the proud owner of 98 grams of pure, sweet heaven.

It's hard to remember what I do with my time here. Days sort of melt into each other and fly away faster than I can bring myself to sit and write about them. For the sake of remembering some details, here is what I did yesterday:

At around 12:30 I woke up to the sound of Mushi clawing at the back door of my bedroom. To clarify, its not so much a door as it is panels of plastic painted to look like wood that fold up accordion style to the backyard staircases. So Mushi is meowing and he throws his claws into the corner of the door where it is easiest to poke through. One paw pushes through, and it looks like a demonic/possessed cat is breaking and entering. I get up to help this process along a little because the meowing is getting to me, he climbs up on my bed, we snuggle for a bit, and then I decide that getting up would probably be a good idea.

There's lots of noise coming from the kitchen, accompanied by some incredible smells. Vivi is complaining about the heat and wearing the black jumper with pockets that she dawns while preparing for large dinner parties. She makes fun of me for getting up so early on a Sunday (meanwhile it's roughly 13:00), and I toast a tortita and put the water on for tea. For all of you poor souls who have never experienced a tortita, I will try to explain the perfection of this simple bread. A tortita is a round piece of flaky bread, gold on the outside and whitish on the inside, roughly the size of a baseball—though it is flat, not round. Each bite is slightly crunchy, due to the flaky outer layers, but buttery and soft on the inside. I eat one every morning, toasted with cream cheese (right now we've got Philadelphia chive and onion, which won't last for much longer) and raspberry mermelada from Patagonia. A cup of black or peppermint tea, as well as Harry Potter y la cámara de secretos, usually accompany me as well.

After breakfast I played some guitar—I found Vivi’s guitar from childhood in one of the outdoor closets, and she let me re-string and fix it up. I discovered in the month that I didn’t have an instrument that playing music is absolutely essential to my daily routine. So I practiced for a bit, pretty self-conscious because my sister was also home and we don’t really talk to much to one another, and then started walking to Parque General San Martín, the largest green area in Mendoza, for the Seder my friend Hannah organized. While waiting for other members of our group to arrive I was shat on by a bird, so expected to have good luck for the rest of my day. In the middle of the park is a man-made lake, as well as an island in the center. We met on the island and had an incredible Seder with charoset (prepared by Hannah and I the day before), a make-shift Seder plate with eggs, cucumbers, an orange, and pieces of paper with the other items we were not able to procure. After the Seder a few mendocinos that I know came to the island and we spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and learning dirty words on the island, obviously. The first thing anyone learns when they travel to a foreign country is “where is the bathroom” and then all sorts of horrible phrases to make you sound like a local. There was also this random guy wearing pants covered with paint, no shoes, and had a piece of alabaster that he was chiseling into the form of a foot sitting close by, so we offered him some food and started chatting with him. Turns out he’s a student in the Faculty of Art and Design at the university we are enrolled in, so we hope to see him again.

After watching the sun set (behind the Andes and some crazy trees/plants), our group was kicked off the island by security because it apparently closes at night, and I walked back home with a friend from the program who lives close by. Once back at home I ate dinner with the family and the promptly fell asleep two seconds later.

Tonight my family is hosting a Seder with a guest list of approximately 30 people, so it should be a rowdy evening filled with great food, wine, and Jews. Though this will be an interesting cultural experience, I very much miss the Seders I used to have at Saba and Savta’s house with the close family. I remember the weird play that Ilana and I wrote and had everybody perform year after year, even when it was awkward because we wrote it as 10 and 13 year olds. I hope there are some good songs during this seder because my family gets really into the song part back home. So Happy Pesach to all!

I will be traveling to El Bolson, a little hippy town in Patagonia, on Wednesday for Semana Santa (Holy Week) because I don’t have classes (there are some advantages of living in a Catholic country I suppose). I’ll be hiking, camping, talking to random people, and chilling in PATAGONIA. So have fun during the next week knowing that I am doing something wicked awesome.

Also, just so everyone knows, I made an enormous batch of peanut butter with a friend in my program on Saturday and it is DELICIOUS.

Un mes después...

Ay! My how time flies when you're trying to figure out what is going on around you every moment of the day. Let's return to those riveting questions I proposed in the first entry of this written experiment.

Q: Is there peanut butter in Argentina?
A: Kind of. One must travel to Walmart (not an option for ethical reasons and because it's wicked far away and I'm not willing to travel to a Walmart) to purchase peanut butter. However, a plan has been set in motion to make a big batch with other junkies in the program/Mendocinos.

Q: Are there apples as incredible as honeycrisp?
A: So far no, but the grapes, peaches, pears, and ice cream possibly make up for the lack of honeycrisp. Every single grape here is crunchy, sweet, and round to perfection. The peaches and pears are saturated with golden juices that get all over your mouth and will drip onto all sorts of body parts if eaten without caution.

Q: Can I sit on a couch while my family is home and eat?
A: We don't really have couches in convenient places to eat. It's much nicer to eat outside in backyard while listening to the birds singing in castellano-chirps. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't have to sit on a couch to be comfortable because instead it's 85F and green out.

Q: Can I sit on a couch while my family is home and eat in my pajamas?
A: I can eat in my pajamas, but I prefer to sit and chat/attempt to understand what my family members are saying. My brother and sister are pretty much impossible to understand because they speak as quickly as those brilliant telenovela actors do. But Vivi and Oscar are more or less intelligible. And at dinner I was actually able to follow a conversation about a powerful Rabbinical circle in Russia. I think.

I am truly astonished to look at a calendar and see the date. Or I would be if I looked at an actual calendar. So far I've been trying to accept every invitation extended to me by people I meet, attend every event I encounter, and practice my Spanish at all possible moments. I've stayed up all night and watched the sunrise, eaten empanadas, asado and dulce de leche, hiked in the Andes, danced all night in a club, listened to an Argentine reggae-band, and drank mate with Mendocinos. Aside from the staying up so late thing, I feel like I can really relate to the culture of Mendoza. Chatting with friends all afternoon/evening while drinking coffee/mate/wine, not ever being sure that class is happening, meeting random people and listening to their stories. I'm even getting good at arriving 15 minutes late! And huge news from the gastrointestinal faction of the body: I am no longer in constant danger of exploding at any moment in time! Huge success and a benchmark in my traveling.

I'm not really sure what else to say, but if anyone has specific questions about what's going on in my life, please ask.

Juxtapositions, Vendimia, y los boliches

I will begin this post with a juxtaposition, possibly my favorite of all literary techniques. I have two applications on the background of my computer. The first is a 5-day forecast of the weather in Mendoza and the second is the snow/trails report for Sunday River in Maine. It is 29C in Mendoza and the little icon indicates sun with some fuzzy, incandescent lines across it, while at Sunday River it is 37F with 50" of snow at the base of the mountain. Juxtaposition complete.

This past weekend was Vendimia, the festival of the harvest. It's basically the biggest party of the year in Mendoza and it brings in approximately 200,000 tourists every year and is growing annually. On Friday night I went to Via Blanca, one of the four events of Vendimia. Here's the lowdown: Via Blanca is a parade where snazzily decorated floats carry the reinas, beauty queens that represent each of the 16 different departments of the province (in addition to being the name of the major city, Mendoza is also is the name of the province), throughout four downtown streets. The culmination of Vendimia, the first night of Acto Central, is essentially a beauty pageant in which one of the reinas wins, represents her department, is admired/made fun of by all, and plays some sort of ambassadorial role in the grander scheme of Argentine government/bachelor parties. During the parade the reinas and their court throw produce that their department is famous for into the crowd of onlookers. So there's the typical grapes, pears, and peaches, followed by the slightly more dangerous melons and wine (in bottles). While I was not fortunate enough to catch a bottle of wine, I also did not get smacked in the face with a cantaloupe. I suppose I broke even. I was able to catch two bunches of grapes, but couldn't eat them without wondering whether or not those reinas had clean hands.

After Via Blanca was over, a few friends and I thought it would be a good idea to go to a boliche, see what it's about, and never have to do it again. So we boliched it up, saw what it was about, and now I never have to do that again. It was definitely something I needed to do once while here, but found that the people in our group were really the only ones dancing... I assumed that in a dance club we might run into people moving their bodies in an expressive and rhythmic manner to the music, but I guess that's not how it's done in Mendoza. People were mostly milling about trying to talk to each other over the booming bass line, as well as moderately moving their hips (perhaps accidentally in time with the music). I might be seriously misjudging the whole situation, but people immediately knew we were not Argentines because of our dancing. On the other hand, I can now check "boliche" off the list of things to do, as well as a.) flirting poorly in broken Spanish with a bouncer to please let my male friend into a club and succeeding! (the bouncers refused to let the only male in our group into the boliche), b.) staying up in true Argentine fashion until 6:30 a.m., and c.) realizing I know all the lyrics to My Love by Justin Timberlake.

I'm pretty exhausted right now, but the basic message of this post is that I am having a wonderful time right now. Aside from my intense bowel problems and stress regarding grants/fellowships deadlines for Bates, I am experiencing a surprisingly low level of frustration, cultural shock, and anxiety. I can also see the Andes from my front door, which helps.

Tomorrow I am meeting with an academic adviser to pick my classes for the semester, standing on line for 302049 hours at the bank to deal with Argentina visa bureaucracy, and dodging every car that almost runs me down as I try to cross the street. I can't wait (and I actually write that with complete sincerity). I hope everyone reading this is doing well!

I leave you all with a photograph I took during the Acto Central last night in the Greek Theater in the mountains. It is the last event of Vendimia and is where the reina is announced, but more importantly it's where an amazing performance of dance, music, and history is performed by hundreds of Mendocinos. In addition, a photograph of my host dad and I with the my first asado (100% Argentina cow) cooking over the fire.

Dificultades con el celular, la Plaza Italia, y Waning Gibbeouses

So I started to write a post yesterday, got distracted, it became obsolete after the events of yesterday and today, and so I write an entirely new post.

I've been in Argentina for a little over a week and so far it's been, as expected, quite a mix of up/down/sideways/etc. I haven't had any emotional breakdowns, so I've got that going for me. I mostly am overwhelmed in trying to understand how this city works, the buses, cellphones, eating at restaurants, walking back home alone. I have succesfuly purchased a cellphone and taken the trolley to class, neither of which are as easy as it sounds. The cellphone deal was my first experience feeling entirely helpless and childlike... both frustrating and comical in retrospect. In Argentina you don't buy a cellphone with a plan attached like in the US. So I bought a cellphone at a vendor (a two hour affair because there is also no such thing as urgency here), was unable to buy a card with minutes on it because they ran out, went to two other places in the plaza that either didn't have any cards or the machine was broken, returned home and tried to buy a card at the gas station nearby, was told my number didn't exist, lost my receipt and couldn't figure out my cellphone number, went to another kiosco this morning only to find the machine was broken, waited online for an hour and FINALLY BOUGHT THE GODDAMN CARD. I feel like a true Mendocino now.

It's also a little frustrating being a.) ridiculously paranoid that everyone is going to rob me, b.) not being able to walk home alone at night, and c.) being absolutely sure that everyone is going to rob me. I try to walk like I know exactly what I'm doing and where I am (though that's only true about 20% of the time), but I can't shake the fear. It's a combination of living in a city (any city merits paranoia) and the social acceptance of staring intensely at people. It's totally kosher to follow someone with your eyes for as long as they are in your line of view, so I constantly think people are looking me up and down to see how easy it would be to assault me and take my map of the city, 20 pesos, and eye drops I keep with me . I feel a little trapped once it gets dark, too. I live so close to a few friends in the program, but I'm not supposed to walk anywhere alone. I think for the first few weeks I might just be more cautious than I really need to be, which is definitely for the best, but I'm hoping that after a little while I will be able to at least walk the few blocks to the main, well-lit areas of town.

It's not all frustration though, I pinkie swear! Last night was so much fun. I went to the Plaza Italia en el centro for a festival of Italian heritage here in Mendoza. There's a huge influence of Italian language and mannerisms in Mendoza that manifests itself in daily life. For example, people here are really dramatic and exaggerated in conversation and emotions, talk with grand hand gestures, and have a similar intonation and rhythm of speech. There was a stage set up in front of the central fountain with a full band playing traditional Italian music and singers performing pieces from famous arias, etc. All around the plaza were vendors selling Italian food, so naturally I ate some pizza, tarta, ice cream, and Mendoza wine. Life can be hard sometimes. There were also some artisans selling handcrafts and glow sticks, an honorable and traditional decorative cultural symbol held close to the Italian heart. The moon was absolutely beautiful (a waning gibbous) with occasional scattered clouds and the night was warm and breezy. Overall an ideal atmosphere.

Time for reading and sleep so I'm alert and ready for my day of learning/frustration/excitement/castellano/getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.

Mi famila y un temblor

My first morning in Mendoza! From my bed where I'm typing I can see out into the courtyard of the house. There's green ivy climbing the sandy walls of the house, and beyond that a perfectly blue sky without a single cloud in my line of vision. The house is really pleasant, especially the garden/courtyard out back. I envision myself spending a lot of time reading on the grass with my feet dangling in the little pool of water in the middle of the grass.

Vivi, my mom, is really friendly and understanding of the whole situation as she's had many other students from this program before me. She mostly talks while I listen, but that's fine with me because I usually just sound like a first grader (at best) when I open my mouth. My brother is somewhere around 24 and is pretty awkward. I'm hoping it'll pass because if my siblings don't relax with me, I don't think I will be able to do likewise. I haven't met my sister yet, as she's been in Buenos Aires visiting her boyfriend, but she's supposed to be coming home today. I'm hoping that either my sister or brother will be willing to show me around a little to ease my awkwardness, but if not, I'm sure I can find someone else in this city of a million to extend a helping hand.

More exciting than the siblings are the 3 animals that inhabit this place. Two little kitties que se llaman Mushi y Musha, and an absolutely enormous bull mastiff named Ñieto. Like... I could comfortably ride on top of him if I get lazy and don't feel like walking around.

Last night after unpacking and settling in we had Shabbat dinner. My family isn't strictly observant, but they like having friends over and staying up late (like everyone else in this nocturnal country). I mostly sat and listened, trying not to nod-off in my exhaustion from the last few days, and was relieved when Vivi made me go to sleep. After approximately 30 seconds of being awake in bed, I passed out to experience the bliss of sleep. At some unknown point in the morning, I woke up and felt the house shaking all around me. At first I thought I was having a horrible reaction to some food/travel, but then the books on my shelf fell from their place onto the floor and I knew that the house was actually moving. My first thoughts were (roughly in order of going through my head) as follows: 1.) a violent military coup is going on and someone is bombing Mendoza, 2.) a bloody rebellion is going on and someone is bombing Mendoza, 3.) some unknown political movement is happening and someone is bombing Mendoza. I feel confident in saying that my heart has never beat that quickly in my entire life. I could see the lights to Oscar and Vivi’s room from my bed, so I got up when the shaking stopped and they quickly informed me that it was just a tremor from an earthquake… We found out this morning that there was an earthquake in Chile late last night, thus the temblores in Mendoza. What a lovely first night of sleep. It’s good to know what a tremor feels like so I don’t assume bloody violence and imminent death next time it happens.

And now to my day of sunny, 29C Mendoza!

El último día

I write my first entry (of what I'm sure will prove to be an interesting, informative, and glamorous account of the next few months of my life living in Argentina) while eating a honeycrisp apple with super crunchy Teddy Bear peanut butter on top, in the silence of early morning home. Dad has either kidnapped the dogs or they are all asleep after the rousing 7:15 wake up the dogs promise me every morning to make sure that I remember they exist/are excited for another day of being a dog.

In 24 hours from this moment, I will ideally be arriving at Logan International Airport in Boston with one large suitcase, my backpacking pack (there's got to be a better phrase for that), and something to entertain/feed me for the almost 24 hours of travel to Buenos Aires. We're having a 3-day orientation in BA before taking a group flight to Mendoza to meet our families and settle in.

As for how I'm feeling... I am oddly relaxed about it all. I occasionally remember that I am going to Argentina and really think about what that means... that I'll be away from most of the people I love for the next 5+ months, that I'll be eating meat on a regular basis, that I'll be living with people who are now just names and interests on a sheet on electronic paper, that I'll be sweating profusely from the 32C heat (as opposed to the 32F bitterness of New England), que mis palabras estarán en español cada, tarde, y noche. And once I remember all these things, relaxed is replaced with elation and anticipation (before studying in Argentina for 6 months it's called elation and anticipation _____________), but not yet the stomach flipping-quick breathing feeling that I'm sure will come tomorrow morning on the way to the airport. This is my longest time away from my family, the first time I'm traveling outside the countries of my citizenship(s), and the first place I'll really be utilizing my Spanish in a non-academic setting. I'm sure there will be many more firsts to follow.

Back to the important stuff I skipped over in the beginning of this post. The honeycrisp and peanut butter. This combination of fruit and spread happens to be my favorite mixing of any two foods (chocolate-covered strawberries are a very, very close second). I sit on my couch in pajamas and wonder if there is peanut butter in Argentina? Apples as incredible as the honeycrisp? Can I sit on a couch in my new family's home while eating? In my pajamas? There are so many uncertainties about what I will be doing in just a few days that continually run through my head as I go about my daily routine here in Massachusetts. But really, I've recently found that not knowing and I work very well together, perhaps even better than facts and routine and I do. And then there's also the phrase "my new family" that strikes me. It's such a common collection of words I've heard so many friends say after spending time abroad, but now it's a collection that holds four unknown people behind it. I'll be living with a family of four, a wife, husband, a daughter and son somewhere between 18-34 years old, and a dog(!).

And now to begin my day of errands and preparations!

Hasta luego,
Limor