Nightlife

To be fair, nightlife in Buenos Aires deserves its own blog, not just a single post. But I'll try to do it justice here.

Porteños know how to party. In a pretty classy way. They know how to dance (guys and girls alike) and how to have a good time.

Clubs in Buenos Aires open no earlier than midnight and lines don't really form until around 2:00 am. Then it's a time warp with bands and lights and dj's and dancing. Closing time isn't until sometime between 7:00 and 9:00 am and it is perfectly normal for the average Argentine to stay out that late (early, rather) and catch a train home with commuters off to work. And then sleep the next day away... Fortunately for many students, classes at the public university often start in the late afternoon; this schedule caters well to a thriving nightlife.

I will never forget my first morning in Argentina, when I struggled to get out of bed before noon. I finally awoke and took a hurried shower, worried about being rude and making a terrible first impression. When I found my host mother, I apologized for sleeping so late. The confused expression on her face was priceless. She informed me that noon was not late at all. In fact, she had just woken up and the rest of the family was still sound asleep. I figured this was something I could get used to...

A Trip to Tigre!

We took the train a few stops to Tigre, a beautiful town to the north of Beccar.

Manu, me, and Euge (from left to right) on a bridge across the Rio de la Plata.

My first asado! Niko and Manu and lots of interesting cuts of meat...

Here's a shot from the Puerto de Frutos, an artesan market at Tigre where I bought plenty of recuerdos to bring back to the United States!

San Isidro

I could (and do) spend hours and hours wandering around this cute neighborhood. Tons of cafes, a cathedral and random shops (bebe's & cia ?!?!).

La Boca

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Boca

Starting School at San Andres

Curso de Castellano: Profesoras Marina Rems (arte y cultura) y Laura Isola (literatura). Lunes a jueves 9:00 am - 1:00 pm. Sean punctuales!

On the Day I Arrived...

1) Found man holding sign that read "Allison Stewart"
2) Drove 4o minutes to house and met family!
3) Unpacked and called home
4) Went to listen to host brother's band (awesome!)
5) Went out to party with host sister (fun!)
6) Tried dulce de leche and fernet
7) Decided at 3:30 after being up for nearly 48 hours that it was time to get some sleep

Off to Buenos Aires

The morning started with some last-minute, rushed packing and an unusually long car ride to Seattle. Morning traffic made things interesting and the electronic check-in even more so. Note to self: read bolded words Slide Passport Here before asking the hostile attendant where to slide passport. And saying goodbye before security warranted some funny stares. But I got in line (and stayed there, thanks to Abby on the other end of a train-wreck phone call).

Then, going through security, I provided everyone with a morning’s dose of entertainment. I loaded everything (shoes, jacket, computer, purse, and backpack) onto the belt, sent it through, and then attempted to walk through the scanner, only to be stopped by the guard who insisted there was something under my shirt. Yes, he had seen my money belt and told me to take it off and put it through. The rest of my personal belongings were long gone and, though I felt uneasy sending a small pouch full of cash and my passport alone to be examined, I did as I was told and began to remove the money belt. This thing was not about to cooperate. It clung hopelessly to me. I tried to unwrap the straps, only causing more knots, frustration, and questionable words under my breath. So I stood in front of this enormous line of people and practically stripped in order to find the beginning and end of the pouch. I was furious and about ready to rip off my shirt when the security guard laughed at me and suggested a pat-down, which I agreed to.

I suppose the moral of this story is that, while the purpose of a money belt is to hide and protect valuables, it seems to have the opposite effect for me. I basically screamed, “Look at me…I have a bunch of cash and a passport and other identification that I don’t want you to know about.” Even now, everyone can totally see the abnormal bulge through my turquoise shirt. Never again.

But I’ve made it to Dallas with all of my personal belongings intact. And I’ve decided that maybe I should just stay here in Texas for my dose of culture. Honestly. It’s a whole new language. Barbeque everywhere. Cowboy hats and boots instead of fleece jackets and flip-flops. Incredible.

Mi Familia Argentina