So, I've spent a lot of my time in BA being hateful, annoyed, frustrated, confused, lazy. Adjusting to life here is no easy task, and as my last entry might suggest, I found myself searching desperately for something (anything!) to appreciate and want to hold on to. If there's one thing I've learned since I've been here, it's that you can't force things. You can't force learning, maturation, or appreciation for something upon yourself. Countless times here, I thought to myself, "Well, good, I've learned from that mistake and I won't make it again," or, "Yes! I finally feel comfortable here and might really enjoy it. It's not so bad!" But in reality, I was just telling myself what I wanted to hear. Disappointment is a horrible feeling, and the last person I ever want to be disappointed in is myself. So I would invent these poignant little moments or epiphanies in my head to create some sense of progress in my life.
Now that the end of my time in BA is feeling closer and closer, I find myself looking back and asking, what was I thinking? How could I have expected to change almost overnight, or even keep track of my progress? Life learning is such a slow and gradual process that you can't observe it as it's happening. Blah blah blah I'm sure I'm boring you with my "coming of age" Annie Dillard, Huckleberry Finn bullshit, because I'm even boring myself.
Anyway. Looking back, this wasn't the experience I had been expecting (obviously) but it has certainly been something. Ok, I still have 3 weeks left, but knowing how quickly the weeks go by, I know that the end will come all too quickly. Surprisingly, this trip has been an incredibly enriching musical experience, moreover, it's been an incredible cultural experience (omgz no way!). Let me explain. Music has been my tool for connecting to people here, and sharing musical tastes has led to a lot of discoveries. Also, to nurse my depression/frustration I hid away from the world and spent far more time than is healthy on Zune Marketplace and Last.fm (and, I'll admit it, a bit of Pitchfork--DIE HIPSTER SCUM!--for the first time ever). The city has such a vibrant and accessible culture scene that finding local events and getting even somewhat involved in the scene has been really easy and rewarding. I kind of threw myself into the local hip hop scene, and while admittedly I don't feel like I've become fully a part of it, I certainly feel I've gained a fairly comprehensive understanding of it. I even started a crappy blog in Spanish about it for a class project. Basically, actively attempting to discover different parts of the culture here is something I definitely think I'll take away from this experience and continue to pursue upon returning home.
Another thing I've really enjoyed about the city is that it's been a really creative force for me. Maybe it's the mix of the pain and struggle of everyday urban life and lots of cheap alcohol, but my drive to create things has accelerated tenfold.
A final thing I'd like to thank BA for its the openness of it's people. Porteños, despite the chamuyo and apuro, are exceptionally hospitable and gregarious. I'm constantly meeting new people and it's not weird that we kiss on the cheek, exchange some words and then numbers to perhaps meet again (depending on how hard they lay on the chamuyo). But in all seriousness, being accustomed to the (at times) cold and individualistic mentality of the north, the casualness of meeting people and forging new relationships is so refreshing.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Lists
Things I am FUCKING obsessed with in Argentina:
Heaven Ice Cream treats.
Holy fuck. By far the most delicious dessert/snack/meal ever created by man.
http://www.nestle.com.ar/productos/nestle-frigor-heavenuniksuperddl.html
Inti Zen teas.
When I caught a really bad cold, I stayed in bed all day watching Lost, and for every episode I had a cup of tea. I think I watched an entire season that day. Favorites include Don Juan, infused with dulce de leche and red fruits, Patagonia Bee, with vanilla, cocao, and honey, and Inca Rose, earl grey with rose petals.
DULCE DE LECHE.
THIS SHOULD BE NUMBER ONE. But I forgot it, because it is so basic. Best in/on/served with anything. Or nothing. Just take a spoon to the tub.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dulce_de_leche
Malbec.
I haven't really bought that much wine here, but when I've had it, it's usually malbec. It's kind of the national wine type here. You can't go wrong even with the cheapest malbec (around maybe 8 pesos)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malbec
Morita empanadas.
Cheap. Easy. Delicious. Favorites include Queso al verdeo y Caprese
http://www.empanadasmorita.com/index.php
Subte Linea D.
Ah, the sweet smell of excrement and old lady perfume. I live 2 blocks from the Facultad de Medicina stop and my school is less than a ten minute's walk from the Olleros stop. The D line (or green, if you like) runs along cordoba, santa fe, y cabildo, 3 major streets that will get you pretty much any where you want to go (cool neighborhoods like Palermo or right by the obelisco). As buses have always kinda freaked me out because of their requisite for common sense (something I obviously severely lack), I tend to avoid taking them (not to mention their completely unpredictable schedules or requisite for monedas, another thing I often lack possession of). OK, so the Subte is kind of notorious for breaking down all the time (again, bienvenidos a argentina, my friend) but it's insanely cheap (1,10 viaje) and the people watching is priceless. Plus, acquiring the ability to balance without holding on to anything WHILE reading hispanic literature and knowing which sides open at which stops and when (ie when I can lean on the doors) have been very rewarding, satisfying experiences.
http://www.subte.com.ar/contenido/home.asp
BLOGS.
For some reason, this city is a bloggers fucking paradise. I talked a bit about this earlier, but fer rillz, if there is anything cultural you're into, you can find like 8 blogs about that scene in BsAs. I also can't give enough praise to What's Up Buenos Aires (wooba as I like to affectionately like to think of it). It's just an incredible resource. I'm also a huge fan of El Reverso for alternative cinema. Though I have yet to get off my lazy ass and go to one of the numerous listings on the site…
http://whatsupbuenosaires.com/wuba2/
http://www.elreverso.com.ar/index.php
Exchange rate!
Unlike the USD/CAD rate that loves to tease me and then turn around and anally rape me (it's a fickle motherfucker), the USD/ARS exchange rate is something that will honor and cherish me for eternity.
http://www.exchange-rates.org/rate/USD/ARS
Things I still fucking HATE and other irreconcilable differences
Misogyny.
I have never felt so objectified in my entire life. It is impossible to walk down the street without at least one creepy old guy per block invading your personal space with his groping eyes and filthy compliments. The worst ones will walk AT you. The image of the female body as a sex object is ubiquitous. Even at lingerie stores for women. Which perhaps says something about the way women perceive themselves? I was talking about this with my mom the other day, and I found myself saying that walking down the street holding hands with a guy felt empowering. How fucking backwards is that? But it was true. I felt like I could look up from the ground, free of worry or fear that I might accidentally make eye contact with a sleaze. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt at ease walking down the streets. It was disgusting.
Concrete.
Where I live, there is very little green space. In this city, there is very little green space. It's a port city on a brown, ugly river. There is no coast. I've never seen sunset because it happens behind buildings.
School.
The public university here doesn't have the best reputation (I'd liken it to the Subte of education… when it's up and running, it's fine, albeit a bit underfunded, but this is a rarity) but the private university I go to in the more affluent barrio of Belgrano is pretty fucking bad too. Sure, the building is nice, but:
- There is no wifi, despite all the signs around the school advertising this very service. Sencillamente, no hay.
- It's overrun with dumb americans. These americans are in Buenos Aires to speak as little spanish as possible and party at boliches every night. The classes for international students (the majority of whom are the very americans I loathe) are taught as if they were in the special education curriculum. The classes with argentines, however, are insanely difficult as the prof and the students speak their slurred castellano at lightening speed and when I made the mistake once of telling a prof that I was from the US she proceeded to inform me that she had no intention of speaking english and that if I don't understand her, tough shit, she's not holding my privileged little american hand. At that moment I converted: Vive Quebec! Yo soy canadiense! Odio a los americanos también! George Washington? Quién? American cheese? Qué?
- Sociology doesn't exist at the school, and the classes that have the word sociologia or sociedad in them are as banal as possible. I mean, sociologia systematica? No, gracias. So I have to take a retarded mix of weird classes and therefore every administrator thinks I'm fucking nuts. Abogacia? Ciencias de la comunicación? Y relaciones internacionales? Qué estudiás, loca?
Monday, August 17, 2009
Heep-Hope!
My (admittedly very overdue) initial observations of the hip hop scene in BA:
The most striking and most interesting thing about the local scene is that it's a package deal. By that I mean that other elements of the culture, DJs, graffiti, and breakdance, are an integral part of any event that advertises itself as a hip hop event. In the states, breakdance feels dated and is generally left to professional dancers and graffiti seems to have evolved into its own community of taggers and doesn't necessarily identify itself specifically with hip hop culture anymore. Or maybe I just have a skewed view of things. Here, however, many MCs themselves break and encourage listeners to support street art. It seems so old school! It hasn’t been corrupted by the 'bling era' of hip hop we are currently living in up north. Why is that?
One important point to note is that, quite simply, South America does not have the wealth that North America does, and it has ten times the poverty (probably underestimating). The people who rap here are don't have aspirations of making it big and buying a Benz and sippin on Cristal at Diddy's white party (we can probably thank the language barrier for that). That shit just doesn't happen here. Based on what I've seen so far, many MCs are from less privileged barrios and rap about oppression and other socio-political issues (thank you, Che?).
More specifically, according to my research, hip hop started to catch on in South America in the 80s when Michael Jackson and his crazy moves became an international pop sensation, and dance movies like Flashdance started gaining popularity. Luckily for sudamericanos (and me) hip hop came in to South America during its Golden Age, a time that many current alternative artists try to hark back to. (Many performers at Rock the Bells are guilty of going on long rants about hip hop history and the importance of returning hip hop to its roots) Basically, the hip hop scene here is about twenty years behind that of the US, and I love it. It still feels new and slightly underground--not mainstream and completely devoid of substance.
This influence is very, very potent.
At a popular hip hop night I recently attended, the dj, DJ Stuart (INCREDIBLE), spun classic artists like A Tribe Called Quest, Cypress Hill, and MOP and some older top 40 faves (So hot in herre!) while everyone crowded around a circle of break dancers battling (this later turned into a bit of a show put on by a local dance crew). Sunday night at the First Argentine hip hop festival, there were two canvases of graffiti art placed next to the stage, but, unlike many shows at home, the house played... Sublime? Not complaining, but, I mean, really? As for the show itself, I got there a bit late, just as this dance crew was coming on and people seemed pretty into it. Break isn't really my thing, but when one of them put a box covered in aluminum foil over their head and jumped on top of their human pyramid to become a giant robot when Intergalactic came on, I had a good laugh.
Then local artist and success story Mustafa Yoda came on. From what I understood, he spat some killer metaphors (one of my favorites being bebes nacen borrachos) and did a pretty damn good job of getting the crowd into it.
But THEN, this chick came on, and the place went NUTS. The girl killed it. Her name is Alika, and she is beautiful, intelligent, and pretty much everything I want to be.
So, there you have it. I'm really looking forward to finding more things to enjoy in the city, as it's still a kind of up and down experience for me. Forthcoming: recap of trips to Uruguay and Iguazu Falls (this weekend!), volunteer experience with street kids, and... other stuff!
The most striking and most interesting thing about the local scene is that it's a package deal. By that I mean that other elements of the culture, DJs, graffiti, and breakdance, are an integral part of any event that advertises itself as a hip hop event. In the states, breakdance feels dated and is generally left to professional dancers and graffiti seems to have evolved into its own community of taggers and doesn't necessarily identify itself specifically with hip hop culture anymore. Or maybe I just have a skewed view of things. Here, however, many MCs themselves break and encourage listeners to support street art. It seems so old school! It hasn’t been corrupted by the 'bling era' of hip hop we are currently living in up north. Why is that?
One important point to note is that, quite simply, South America does not have the wealth that North America does, and it has ten times the poverty (probably underestimating). The people who rap here are don't have aspirations of making it big and buying a Benz and sippin on Cristal at Diddy's white party (we can probably thank the language barrier for that). That shit just doesn't happen here. Based on what I've seen so far, many MCs are from less privileged barrios and rap about oppression and other socio-political issues (thank you, Che?).
More specifically, according to my research, hip hop started to catch on in South America in the 80s when Michael Jackson and his crazy moves became an international pop sensation, and dance movies like Flashdance started gaining popularity. Luckily for sudamericanos (and me) hip hop came in to South America during its Golden Age, a time that many current alternative artists try to hark back to. (Many performers at Rock the Bells are guilty of going on long rants about hip hop history and the importance of returning hip hop to its roots) Basically, the hip hop scene here is about twenty years behind that of the US, and I love it. It still feels new and slightly underground--not mainstream and completely devoid of substance.
This influence is very, very potent.
At a popular hip hop night I recently attended, the dj, DJ Stuart (INCREDIBLE), spun classic artists like A Tribe Called Quest, Cypress Hill, and MOP and some older top 40 faves (So hot in herre!) while everyone crowded around a circle of break dancers battling (this later turned into a bit of a show put on by a local dance crew). Sunday night at the First Argentine hip hop festival, there were two canvases of graffiti art placed next to the stage, but, unlike many shows at home, the house played... Sublime? Not complaining, but, I mean, really? As for the show itself, I got there a bit late, just as this dance crew was coming on and people seemed pretty into it. Break isn't really my thing, but when one of them put a box covered in aluminum foil over their head and jumped on top of their human pyramid to become a giant robot when Intergalactic came on, I had a good laugh.
Then local artist and success story Mustafa Yoda came on. From what I understood, he spat some killer metaphors (one of my favorites being bebes nacen borrachos) and did a pretty damn good job of getting the crowd into it.
But THEN, this chick came on, and the place went NUTS. The girl killed it. Her name is Alika, and she is beautiful, intelligent, and pretty much everything I want to be.
So, there you have it. I'm really looking forward to finding more things to enjoy in the city, as it's still a kind of up and down experience for me. Forthcoming: recap of trips to Uruguay and Iguazu Falls (this weekend!), volunteer experience with street kids, and... other stuff!
Monday, July 27, 2009
La comunidad urbana
Lately I've been coming around to the whole Buenos Aires, 11th largest city in the world, thing.
Note to self: STOP doing things you know you hate, ie going out to clubs, no matter how attractive the idea seems after a couple of disgustingly sweet mixed drinks. This will make your time here much more enjoyable.
Gee, thanks self.
ANYWAY. Yes, I'm still incredibly frustrated by a lot of things in this city (read: EVERYONE SPEAKING TO ME IN ENGLISH) but the great thing about the size of the city and large anglophone population (or expats as they call themselves here) is that it is SO SO easy to find out about really awesome cultural events going on throughout the city. I never really understood the popularity of the 'blogosphere', as I've been pretty disappointed by the offerings of Montreal blogs, but I guess I never looked hard enough. Suddenly I come to BA and I spend a record amount of time surfing the net rather than just refreshing facebook. Since when has the internet been such an incredible resource? There are literally hundreds of blogs about different and incredible things happening ALL THE TIME: Food (credits to Shana Hurley), Going Out, Alternative Cinema, Hipstery Shit that I Can't Get Enough of, and, most importantly, Hip Hop. These are just a few examples.
One of these blogs led me to an Argentine photojournalism exhibition, which was absolutely incredible. It's really shocking how little news we receive about the world, specifically Latin America, considering how many 24-hour news channels we have on basic cable (cue Jon Stewart parody of corporate media).
Another incredible thing about the city is how easy it is to get around. Though I have yet to completely figure out the whole Colectivo (public bus) system, I am a huge fan of the Subte (subway). Unfortunately, the Subte shuts down at 10pm (and I thought 1am in Montreal was early? Spoiled by NYC). Today a couple of my roommates and I hopped on a train to Tigre, a more residential and touristy neighborhood in the province of Buenos Aires. It cost around 3 pesos (less than a dollar) roundtrip AND was one of the easiest things I've ever done. The MTA needs to get in on this shit (Metro North and its $21.50 off-peak fares can suck it). It was a beautiful winter's day with a high around 12C/62F (rough translation, don't quote me) and we saw lots of cool things!
Highlights:
The smallest, cutest car I've ever seen!
People here live on the river delta and instead of having cars they get around by boat.
All of the houses were amazing, but this one was my favorite.
Now, on to what I really want to talk about: community. I figure the best way for me to make local friends is to get involved in some sort of community here in the city. In order to do this I have to figure out just what kind of community I want to be a part of. Some people have Green Peace, others have Ultimate Frisbee, and still others have more academic persuasions. I, my friends, am sadly interested in none of these. So what do I have? I really had to think about this. I mean, I'm not really an integral part of anything at school. Well, I like movies and journalism. These are things I figured I'd have to wait for school to start to really find a community/become comfortable enough with my level of knowledge of either of these things to participate in any related community. So… what else is Kelly Baker passionate about? Oh, yeah. MUSIC.
I guess this seems fairly obvious… go to shows, meet some people who like what you like, run into them at similar shows… bada-bing, bada-boom. The thing is, I'm not cool enough to be part of the indie rock scene, plus, a lot of underground indie sucks, in my personal opinion. Especially Spanish attempts at indie rock. Culturally speaking, just about everything latinos find "lindo" or beautiful or moving or precious is icky cliché garbage to norteamericanos. (I'm sorry, but greasy men crooning about how beautiful their young lover's eyes are over a few guitar chords is really really NOT lindo.) Plus, I'm not a pretentious, Pitchfork worshipping asshole. (Marko)
So, I made the very decisive decision to investigate the hip hop scene of BsAs. Hip hop is something I know a fair amount about and something I happen to very much enjoy listening to. This could be tricky however, because many people's idea of hip hop involves Lil Jon and 50 Cent or, worse yet, Flo Rida. I'm sorry, but to me these people are NOT hip hop. They are RAP. Rap, in my opinion, is the commercialized version of hip hop that is meant to be consumed on the pop charts. Hip hop is a culture. Rap sells the stereotypes of that culture. Ok, I'll end the rant now.
To get back to my original point, I was a bit worried that the 'hip hop' of Buenos Aires would be rap and/or reggaeton, as this is generally what is meant by "hip hop" nights at clubs in Montreal. Thankfully (thankfully?) Buenos Aires is not Montreal.
Note to self: STOP doing things you know you hate, ie going out to clubs, no matter how attractive the idea seems after a couple of disgustingly sweet mixed drinks. This will make your time here much more enjoyable.
Gee, thanks self.
ANYWAY. Yes, I'm still incredibly frustrated by a lot of things in this city (read: EVERYONE SPEAKING TO ME IN ENGLISH) but the great thing about the size of the city and large anglophone population (or expats as they call themselves here) is that it is SO SO easy to find out about really awesome cultural events going on throughout the city. I never really understood the popularity of the 'blogosphere', as I've been pretty disappointed by the offerings of Montreal blogs, but I guess I never looked hard enough. Suddenly I come to BA and I spend a record amount of time surfing the net rather than just refreshing facebook. Since when has the internet been such an incredible resource? There are literally hundreds of blogs about different and incredible things happening ALL THE TIME: Food (credits to Shana Hurley), Going Out, Alternative Cinema, Hipstery Shit that I Can't Get Enough of, and, most importantly, Hip Hop. These are just a few examples.
One of these blogs led me to an Argentine photojournalism exhibition, which was absolutely incredible. It's really shocking how little news we receive about the world, specifically Latin America, considering how many 24-hour news channels we have on basic cable (cue Jon Stewart parody of corporate media).
Another incredible thing about the city is how easy it is to get around. Though I have yet to completely figure out the whole Colectivo (public bus) system, I am a huge fan of the Subte (subway). Unfortunately, the Subte shuts down at 10pm (and I thought 1am in Montreal was early? Spoiled by NYC). Today a couple of my roommates and I hopped on a train to Tigre, a more residential and touristy neighborhood in the province of Buenos Aires. It cost around 3 pesos (less than a dollar) roundtrip AND was one of the easiest things I've ever done. The MTA needs to get in on this shit (Metro North and its $21.50 off-peak fares can suck it). It was a beautiful winter's day with a high around 12C/62F (rough translation, don't quote me) and we saw lots of cool things!
Highlights:
The smallest, cutest car I've ever seen!
People here live on the river delta and instead of having cars they get around by boat.
All of the houses were amazing, but this one was my favorite.
Now, on to what I really want to talk about: community. I figure the best way for me to make local friends is to get involved in some sort of community here in the city. In order to do this I have to figure out just what kind of community I want to be a part of. Some people have Green Peace, others have Ultimate Frisbee, and still others have more academic persuasions. I, my friends, am sadly interested in none of these. So what do I have? I really had to think about this. I mean, I'm not really an integral part of anything at school. Well, I like movies and journalism. These are things I figured I'd have to wait for school to start to really find a community/become comfortable enough with my level of knowledge of either of these things to participate in any related community. So… what else is Kelly Baker passionate about? Oh, yeah. MUSIC.
I guess this seems fairly obvious… go to shows, meet some people who like what you like, run into them at similar shows… bada-bing, bada-boom. The thing is, I'm not cool enough to be part of the indie rock scene, plus, a lot of underground indie sucks, in my personal opinion. Especially Spanish attempts at indie rock. Culturally speaking, just about everything latinos find "lindo" or beautiful or moving or precious is icky cliché garbage to norteamericanos. (I'm sorry, but greasy men crooning about how beautiful their young lover's eyes are over a few guitar chords is really really NOT lindo.) Plus, I'm not a pretentious, Pitchfork worshipping asshole. (Marko)
So, I made the very decisive decision to investigate the hip hop scene of BsAs. Hip hop is something I know a fair amount about and something I happen to very much enjoy listening to. This could be tricky however, because many people's idea of hip hop involves Lil Jon and 50 Cent or, worse yet, Flo Rida. I'm sorry, but to me these people are NOT hip hop. They are RAP. Rap, in my opinion, is the commercialized version of hip hop that is meant to be consumed on the pop charts. Hip hop is a culture. Rap sells the stereotypes of that culture. Ok, I'll end the rant now.
To get back to my original point, I was a bit worried that the 'hip hop' of Buenos Aires would be rap and/or reggaeton, as this is generally what is meant by "hip hop" nights at clubs in Montreal. Thankfully (thankfully?) Buenos Aires is not Montreal.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Alcohol + Facebook = Comedy
I'm currently working on two new posts, but can't find the motivation to finalize them, so here's a little story for y'all.
So, for what was probably the 5th time I've drunkenly deleted my Facebook account, I chose to make my voice heard. Slash my account was in Spanish and the reasons they listed for leaving FB were so comical that I really took time to read the page, and, unfortunately for whoever the fuck they pay to read user feedback, Drunk Kelly found a box asking for elaboration. The makers of CAPT already know it is unwise to allow me to provide my own explanation for seemingly simple, straightforward multiple choice questions, thereby allowing all of the demons in my head to run wild. So I let Facebook have a special peek into the abby-normal mind of Kelly Baker:
look, fb, it's not that i don't love you... actually, it is. you've surpassed your utility as a social networking device and have somehow transformed into a superhuman social necessity. simply put, i don't want to have to rely on you to feel like i have friends, i don't want to have to rely on you to tell me where da party at. I CAN DO IT MYSELF. you use me. you take my pictures, analyze my browsing patterns, and somehow make me feel obliged to log on to your website every 10 minutes or so. it's sick and sadistic what you are doing to society. It all seemed so innocent at first, but now i feel a serious dependence upon you. perhaps it is not your fault. i mean, why should an addict blame crystal meth for their problems, when the only person to blame for one's problems is oneself? i digress. in truth, mark, you have created a very revolutionary webpage. facebook has changed the face of the world. we are all much closer because of you. 6 degrees is nothing! however, i feel that i need to distance myself from this social parasite for a bit, and find out who i truly am, without the false guidance of your overly voyeuristic and manipulative website. i wish you all the best in your future endeavors, though i highly doubt you have many as i am sure you've already made your millions upon billions... again, thank you for your dedication, your scheming (yes, i read that article in rolling stone magazine), and your capitalist values. y como he dicho, esto es temporal; volveré, por supuesto.
...For the love of god, someone find me a lobotomist.
So, for what was probably the 5th time I've drunkenly deleted my Facebook account, I chose to make my voice heard. Slash my account was in Spanish and the reasons they listed for leaving FB were so comical that I really took time to read the page, and, unfortunately for whoever the fuck they pay to read user feedback, Drunk Kelly found a box asking for elaboration. The makers of CAPT already know it is unwise to allow me to provide my own explanation for seemingly simple, straightforward multiple choice questions, thereby allowing all of the demons in my head to run wild. So I let Facebook have a special peek into the abby-normal mind of Kelly Baker:
look, fb, it's not that i don't love you... actually, it is. you've surpassed your utility as a social networking device and have somehow transformed into a superhuman social necessity. simply put, i don't want to have to rely on you to feel like i have friends, i don't want to have to rely on you to tell me where da party at. I CAN DO IT MYSELF. you use me. you take my pictures, analyze my browsing patterns, and somehow make me feel obliged to log on to your website every 10 minutes or so. it's sick and sadistic what you are doing to society. It all seemed so innocent at first, but now i feel a serious dependence upon you. perhaps it is not your fault. i mean, why should an addict blame crystal meth for their problems, when the only person to blame for one's problems is oneself? i digress. in truth, mark, you have created a very revolutionary webpage. facebook has changed the face of the world. we are all much closer because of you. 6 degrees is nothing! however, i feel that i need to distance myself from this social parasite for a bit, and find out who i truly am, without the false guidance of your overly voyeuristic and manipulative website. i wish you all the best in your future endeavors, though i highly doubt you have many as i am sure you've already made your millions upon billions... again, thank you for your dedication, your scheming (yes, i read that article in rolling stone magazine), and your capitalist values. y como he dicho, esto es temporal; volveré, por supuesto.
...For the love of god, someone find me a lobotomist.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Week 1 Recap
So I'll admit it: I'm bit of a hater.
I was definitely not having the best time here for the first few days. My last post reflects the earlier stages of my discontent, which definitely flared up on Friday when I went to a deli in the Soho-like district of town and wrote a scathing review of what I had learned so far in BA, which I will not transcribe. It was basically a long rant about how much I hated the sidewalks here (which, to my credit, really are shitty--literally, they're covered in dog shit--and have massive holes/cracks/loose tiles everywhere). Overall, I was just really frustrated by how big and fast the city is, and therefore how unwilling people in the restaurant biz are to listen to you butcher their language. The one positive thing I did note however, was that, from some casual observations, Argentinians are in fact quite good looking.
I dealt with all the stress of being here by sleeping. A lot. But my misery began to dissipate on Saturday when I talked with one of the other girls living in my apartment and she invited me out to a boliche (club). We started off the evening by going to the nicest, most expensive apartment I've ever seen, and probably will ever see, in my entire life, no exaggeration. It overlooks the Rio de la Plata and downtown/boliche central and houses a flat screen bigger than the wall in my room, among other fanciful furnitures. The boliche was... a boliche. I needed a stiff drink. I immediately ordered a gin and tonic, momentarily forgetting how much I hate gin. No pain, no gain, right? Anyway, I won't really go into describing the club, as it was pretty standard shit. Though, unlike in Montreal, where men just grab you from behind and you can scuttle away, here they talk to you and it's a bit harder to tell them to fuck off without being pretty blunt about it. I set a personal record that night for consecutive hours spent at a club: nearly 4! Woo. But the boliches don't really get hoppin' (as the cool kids say) until 2 and don't close til 6 or 7, so we turned in early and left around 5.
Sunday I went to this sweet bar with my other roommates and our neighbor (who also hosts other international students) and a bunch of her friends for a pre-Dia del Amigo dinner. They distribute board games to the tables, so we played a jumbo version of Jenga, wholesome fun! Is it still wholesome if your only concern about the tower falling is whether it will knock over your beer?
As it turns out, Dia del Amigo is basically an excuse for teenagers to go out to the parks and drink 40s and smoke and take myspace pics of each other and disperse their angst in public. But my friends and I took a nice, long 5 hour walk around the city, after which my lower back was so sore that when I got home I told Harold to put the casserole in the oven himself and bring me a tub of hot water for my feet, oy gavolt!
Some highlights:
The graffiti/street art in BA is siiiick
Inside El Cementerio de la Recoleta, comparable in fame to Père Lachaise in Paris. Where Eva Perón, one of the country's most beloved historical/political figures, is buried. "Le lloran como si se falleciera ayer"
La Flor de Metal--cierra al anochecer
That night we went to a local drum circle performance that goes on every Monday. And I had my first Colectivo (public buses) experience, which was definitely an experience. The buses here are unlike anything I've ever seen; I'll direct you to this article for more information: Riding as a Collective
Think Tam Tams atmosphere, only La Bomba del Tiempo (the group's name) is more about musicianship and less about just being stoned while banging a drum. I guess that's why it costs money. That being said, weed is certainly in no short supply, but the dancers aren't those hippie fools, man, they fuckin MOSH.
Then we went to a small, crowded cafe teatral and saw (arguably) the best member of La Bomba del Tiempo perform with two other drummers and a (very hot) man playing wooden xylophone.
Then this group reminiscent of the Klezmatics came on, and the crowd actually liked them even better.
So, it was nice to see a different side of Buenos Aires. I now have faith that I'll eventually really enjoy myself now that I've gotten to know the city a bit better (I've finally oriented the map correctly in my head...) Today it rained an assload, however, and I returned home with soggy socks and a new found hatred for my shitty umbrella.
Oh, and I nearly forgot: renewed enthusiasm and high hopes! (Facepalm.)
I was definitely not having the best time here for the first few days. My last post reflects the earlier stages of my discontent, which definitely flared up on Friday when I went to a deli in the Soho-like district of town and wrote a scathing review of what I had learned so far in BA, which I will not transcribe. It was basically a long rant about how much I hated the sidewalks here (which, to my credit, really are shitty--literally, they're covered in dog shit--and have massive holes/cracks/loose tiles everywhere). Overall, I was just really frustrated by how big and fast the city is, and therefore how unwilling people in the restaurant biz are to listen to you butcher their language. The one positive thing I did note however, was that, from some casual observations, Argentinians are in fact quite good looking.
I dealt with all the stress of being here by sleeping. A lot. But my misery began to dissipate on Saturday when I talked with one of the other girls living in my apartment and she invited me out to a boliche (club). We started off the evening by going to the nicest, most expensive apartment I've ever seen, and probably will ever see, in my entire life, no exaggeration. It overlooks the Rio de la Plata and downtown/boliche central and houses a flat screen bigger than the wall in my room, among other fanciful furnitures. The boliche was... a boliche. I needed a stiff drink. I immediately ordered a gin and tonic, momentarily forgetting how much I hate gin. No pain, no gain, right? Anyway, I won't really go into describing the club, as it was pretty standard shit. Though, unlike in Montreal, where men just grab you from behind and you can scuttle away, here they talk to you and it's a bit harder to tell them to fuck off without being pretty blunt about it. I set a personal record that night for consecutive hours spent at a club: nearly 4! Woo. But the boliches don't really get hoppin' (as the cool kids say) until 2 and don't close til 6 or 7, so we turned in early and left around 5.
Sunday I went to this sweet bar with my other roommates and our neighbor (who also hosts other international students) and a bunch of her friends for a pre-Dia del Amigo dinner. They distribute board games to the tables, so we played a jumbo version of Jenga, wholesome fun! Is it still wholesome if your only concern about the tower falling is whether it will knock over your beer?
As it turns out, Dia del Amigo is basically an excuse for teenagers to go out to the parks and drink 40s and smoke and take myspace pics of each other and disperse their angst in public. But my friends and I took a nice, long 5 hour walk around the city, after which my lower back was so sore that when I got home I told Harold to put the casserole in the oven himself and bring me a tub of hot water for my feet, oy gavolt!
Some highlights:
The graffiti/street art in BA is siiiick
Inside El Cementerio de la Recoleta, comparable in fame to Père Lachaise in Paris. Where Eva Perón, one of the country's most beloved historical/political figures, is buried. "Le lloran como si se falleciera ayer"
La Flor de Metal--cierra al anochecer
That night we went to a local drum circle performance that goes on every Monday. And I had my first Colectivo (public buses) experience, which was definitely an experience. The buses here are unlike anything I've ever seen; I'll direct you to this article for more information: Riding as a Collective
Think Tam Tams atmosphere, only La Bomba del Tiempo (the group's name) is more about musicianship and less about just being stoned while banging a drum. I guess that's why it costs money. That being said, weed is certainly in no short supply, but the dancers aren't those hippie fools, man, they fuckin MOSH.
Then we went to a small, crowded cafe teatral and saw (arguably) the best member of La Bomba del Tiempo perform with two other drummers and a (very hot) man playing wooden xylophone.
Then this group reminiscent of the Klezmatics came on, and the crowd actually liked them even better.
So, it was nice to see a different side of Buenos Aires. I now have faith that I'll eventually really enjoy myself now that I've gotten to know the city a bit better (I've finally oriented the map correctly in my head...) Today it rained an assload, however, and I returned home with soggy socks and a new found hatred for my shitty umbrella.
Oh, and I nearly forgot: renewed enthusiasm and high hopes! (Facepalm.)
Friday, July 17, 2009
He jshellagdo (I have arrived)
I've been here now for about a full day. Weird, it seems like I've been here forever…
The flight(s) were long, but really didn't seem to be. (Thanks to Air Canada, I've listened to k-os's new album twice through and--as much as I hate to admit it--watched He's Just Not That Into You and, less embarrassingly, The Reader. And I thank god every day for those Rocket Chips/Crackers they have. Holy fuck.) I flew over two major geographic wonders: Niagara Falls (not that I could actually see it at night) and the Andes (HOLY SHIT). What now, mothafuckaz. It was crazy flying over South America, though. I mean, I've been anticipating this trip since I was 14, and to finally get to actually see these places I've been reading about and imagining for years is a total mindfuck. This shit actually exists, man.
When I first got here I felt like I was in a time warp. For a winter that only gets as cold as 50F during the day, it sure as hell looks like winter. The trees, with their brown, crispy leaves, look dead. The landscape is a depressing gray and sickly brown color. It feels… like winter? People are wearing their blacks and grays, all bundled up. But at least the sun is still warm. It reminds me of the kind of sun when the ice finally starts melting in Montreal and the roads are covered in gray-brown slush.
I didn't expect BsAs to be so, well, BIG. It is every bit as busy, smelly, and overwhelming as New York. But it also feels distinctly Latin American. Mostly because of the poverty. I've never seen anything like it. Ok, I take that back. I've seen poverty, but not quite on this scale. The areas surrounding the Capital General de Buenos Aires (at least the parts along the highway from the airport) look like slums. And they go on for miles. The buildings are dilapidated and a lot don't have roofs. It looks like I'm in the bad section of the Hispanic barrio and can't get out. Within 2 minutes of leaving the airport I witness a guy on a moto just nearly missing being crushed between my car and a bus. Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires, supongo. But eventually we hit the Avenida 9 de julio, which is the widest street in Buenos Aires and is by far the largest street I've ever seen.
The Spanish here is nuts. Completely incomprehensible. And fucking fast.
The one thing that pisses me off most is that I keep thinking in French. FUCK YOU, MONTREAL! This city is fairly bilingual (unofficially) and it's weird that the language other than English is not French. Tabarnac!
Another thing that makes me sad is that, oddly enough, Argentina is not Spain. Go figure. I'm sure I'll come around to the whole cajshe and jshega (calle, llega) jsh jsh jshh shit eventually, the vos thing is pretty cool, but still very foreign. And fuck, everyone speaks at least a bit of English, so my desperate and pathetic attempts to speak to people are generally cut very short by their superior knowledge of my first language. Being that Argentina is not in the EU, the tourists aren't from random-ass European countries that speak a million different languages, so the most used second language is overwhelmingly English. Puta madre.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Planning is something I don't do.
So, I've entered my final 48 hours of being in North America and I still feel, well, the same. I've managed to stay sane by simply not thinking much about my departure. I haven't really said goodbye to anyone; if anything I've said "see you later." That seems more fitting. I ignore the fact that I'll be removed from everyone and everything I've ever known for five full months, it's too abstract of a concept for me to even attempt to grasp. So, see ya later.
I mean, how the fuck do you pack for one of the defining experiences of your life? Better yet, how do you pack for a place where, even on the coldest winter day, the temperature doesn't get much below 14C/60F? Maybe it'll drop to just above 0C at night… that shit ain't winter! Fuck, man. Do I even need a jacket?
Monday, July 13, 2009
Alright, I’ll admit it.
Yes, I am being one of those pretentious study abroad losers and starting a *~*tRaVeLbLoG*~* (omfgz)
I could rant about the merits/demerits of travel blogging, but fuck it. I don't have to justify myself to you, or even to myself. I'm just doing it. Going Nike on yo ass.
So suck it.
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