Ready to Return

It has been almost a year since I found myself preparing to visit Argentina for the first time. Then, I knew little about Argentina. Now, as I prepare to return, this time for 5 months, I feel like I am returning home - going back to a place that is familiar.

Argentina has deeply affected how I see my world, and especially how I see my country. As I learned more about the military dictatorship, my reaction went from shock to curiosity. "How could that have happened?", I kept asking. I watched movies, read, and talked to those who would talk. The more I learned, the more I was horrified. 30,000 people disappeared - many taken away in broad daylight. Pregnant women were kept alive until their children were born, the babies then given to military families who could not bear children of their own. Secret prisons, illegal detentions, torture. It all seemed so evil, so incomprehensible.

And then I returned home.

I saw how the election of 2000 was actually a coup. The election was stolen - not by driving tanks and flying helicopters into Washington D.C. and killing the sitting president, but by engineering the vote, by denying thousands of people the right to vote, by manipulating the ballot, and by the actions of the president and campaign manager of the would-be president.

Once the election was stolen, the real crimes began. Were the attacks on September 11, 2001, really a surprise? Did the twin towers collapse only from the impact of the planes (many suggest there were explosives), was the Pentagon even hit by a plane (again, many suggest, even those who were in the Pentagon, that it was a bomb). Were we told the full truth about September 11? What is clear, is that September 11 was used as an excuse to take radical measures that might not have otherwise been taken. The Patriot Act severely limited our civil rights, allowed our government to spy on us and resulted in the "disappearances" of hundreds of individuals. Now we find out that there have been secret memos and discussions which approved the use of "aggressive interrogation techniques" - torture, rendition flights that carry detainees out of the country to secret locations where they are tortured and never heard from again - the abuses at Abu Graib are nothing compared to what is probably really going on behind prison walls.

9/11 was used to get our country into two wars, which are not going very well. Our economy is in a shambles. Our treasury has been drained, while cronies of the junta who stole the election in 2000 are recording record profits - oil company profits have soared, as well as private security firms, defense contractors and private prison corporations. Now immigrants are being rounded up and herded into detention centers. Proving to be extremely profitable, these dententions are only going to continue while the American people, distracted by rising gas prices, job losses and rising food costs look the other way. Schools and libraries are closing because there is not enough money. A city near San Francisco, Vallejo, has declared bankruptcy, claiming there is not enough money to pay for services such as police and fire departments, schools or libraries. Yet, more and more detention centers are being built. After the immigrants have all been rounded up, and these detention centers sit empty, who is next?

It is frightening to see the direction that this country has gone. It is even more frightening to see where it could go.

Argentina has helped me to see things that are so obvious that they are not visible. Because of the willingness of Argentines to examine their past, I was able to see our present. My questions about how something so horrible could have happened were answered, but the unexpected result was that I was able to see what is happening now in my own country. In spite of our "balance of powers" and "branches of government", when power becomes corrupted, anything is possible. Corporate lobbyists, politicians who are afraid to speak out against public perceptions of what is patriotic (supporting our troops means you can not be anti-war), and a populace that is numb, uneducated and unwilling to look at the hard issues, and would rather go along with patriotic, flag-waving, anti-someone else (Arabs, immigrants, liberals) feelings, than actually think that those we trust with our protection are actually the enemy.

I've learned a lot since my return from Argentina, and look forward to returning so that through their process of healing, I can learn more about how corrupt power destroys everything in its path, and how a nation can return itself to a righteous path. Plus, it will be good to get away from here for awhile. The more I learn, most recently about the growing trend of building privately run detention centers and detaining immigrants, the more concerned I become. I need to get away so that I can see how I might use my voice to wake up those around me who do not want to see what is happening.

Epilogue

I guess I have to say I miss Buenos Aires. It's good to be home, but I miss being in Argentina. I miss speaking Spanish and kissing people. I miss the cafes and of course the ice cream. I miss dancing tango with a very good tango dancer, even though I don't miss him saying "mas pivot". I really have mixed feelings about being at home. I love the weather here, especially in the summer. The fresh air, and the fresh produce at the farmer's market. I love my apartment and being able to cook healthy dinners or go out and eat any kind of food I want (Burmese, Mexican, Chinese, Vietnamese, Indian, etc....)

But the other day I stopped in a place called Bittersweet Cafe. It is a chocolateria. They have really wonderful hot chocolate and all kinds of other chocolate things. It was a beautiful day and I wanted to sit outside, but there were no cafes with outdoor seating in the part of town I was in (even though there were several coffee shops). Instead I settled for a cup of hot chocolate and was going to sit inside and look out the window.

I got my hot chocolate and went and sat on a stool in the front window. There was a girl who I think worked there talking to the guys behind the counter. She was almost shouting, she was talking so loud. I was thinking of all of the places I went to in Buenos Aires and except for the one place that was popular with the Sopranos, no one was ever shouting. There is this way of speaking that is popular with young women here that is very loud and annoying. I don't understand it.

Then, things quieted down - for just a moment. Next some loud music started playing and that was followed by the loud whirring of a machine as they made some sort of foamy chocolate drink. It was horrible. I was glad I got my hot chocolate in a to go cup, because I walked outside where I could hear myself think.

On the other hand, I took a walk yesterday through the Presidio, which is a former military base and is now a National Park with wonderful views and trails and old colonial style houses and a cemetary. From my apartment, it's about a 15 minute walk to the Presidio. I walk through a beautiful neighborhood with big palatial homes (that don't seem to have people living in them). There are flowers blooming everywhere and the air is fresh and there is hardly any traffic (or any people). Once in the Presidio, I'm surrounded by tall eucalyptus and pine tress and fresh air and amazing views of the bay.

I guess the conclusion is that there are wonderful cultural things about Argentina that I really miss - the kissing, the cafes, the way they speak Spanish, but there are wonderful environmental things about the Bay Area that I'm not quite ready to give up. If somehow I could have both, then I'd be in heaven. Until I can figure out how to do that, I guess I'm going to have to settle with being happy with the good things I have in this moment.

The Final Chapter

Wow! My blog has received over 1,000 hits since I put the counter on it. Who is READING it?

I am sorry to say that this will probably be the final posting. I'm back in my lovely apartment in San Francisco, where it is summer, the sun is shining, a gentle breeze is blowing, I'm listening to classical music and it's good to be home.

The trip was, well, a trip.

I hate airports, and Buenos Aires airport, Ezeiza, was pretty crazy.

I had a arrangements for a car to pick me up at 5:30, which is what Tomas, the guy who works for the rental agency that I got my apartment through, recommended. He said someone would be there a few minutes before that to get the keys and return my security deposit.

At 5:25 the buzzer sounded. It was the driver. I told him I had to wait to return the keys - maybe 5 minutes. He said he'd wait.

I waited 15 minutes and then began to panic. I could have left the keys and just left, but I wanted my deposit back. I decided to take my bags downstairs to save some time, which I did. I waited a few minutes down there, and then went back up. Because there is this weird thing where you can not call cell phones from land lines, I was unable to call Ralf or Tomas from my phone. But I had a calling card which I used to call my parents that had a few pesos left on it. I fished it out of the trash and called Tomas. I told him the driver was waiting and I was waiting for someone to return the deposit. Then we got cut off - my card ran out of credits.

Almost immediately after that, the elevator door opened, and the guy who had my deposit showed up. While he was there, Tomas called him, and he said he was with me. I told him I called Tomas because the driver was there and we were waiting. He told me it was no problem, that the driver could wait. I told him that I was told someone would be there before 5:30. He told me it was no problem because the driver was hired to take me to the airport and he had to wait for me. What he missed was that it was *I* who was waiting, and I wasn't as concerned about the driver as I was about me not knowing what was going on. I thought it would have been better if he had simply apologized.

I thought I'd be sad leaving Buenos Aires, but in fact I was relieved after the slight hassle with the wait. The roads were pretty empty and we breezed to the airport. We got there shortly after 6. My flight was a 9:05. I had plenty of time to spare and was going to look for a massage in the airport and maybe dinner.

I walked in and was accosted from all side by people wanting to wrap my bags in plastic, rent me a luggage cart and I don't know what else. I ignored all of them because I was looking at this enormous line that ran the length of the airport. I couldn't believe I was going to have to wait in that line. I was flying Business Class, I am not supposed to wait!

I walked to the end of the line, but was not sure if it was for United, so I asked a security guard, and he told me United was on the other side of the line. So, I went around the line, and fought through the crowds to get to the United check-in, where there was no line and no one waiting.

I breezed through the check-in, and got my boarding pass. Next, on to pay my airport tax. And another line.

This line was not possible to get around. So I went around the maze and eventually got to the window where I paid my tax of $18. There really must be an easier way to collect that. I've been in many airports that charge airport tax, but never had to wait in such a long line to pay it.

Up I went to security. And another line. Another long line. I had no choice but to wait. The airport was really hot, I took off my jacket, but was still sweating. I had my laptop and a carry on bag with everything that wouldn't fit in my overpacked luggage. Both were heavy and I was uncomfortable and hot, but I could do nothing but wait.

I cleared security and breathed a sigh of relief. I could now find a place to relax. As I walked towards my gate, I came across another line. This time I had to go through passport control. I thought that the whole system was designed by some masochist who thought it would be funny to put travelers through all of these checkpoints, almost like an obstacle course.

I waited in another long line, until I got my passport stamped. Now I was done. Or was I?

Turned out that was it.

I stopped in Duty Free and bought some cologne with my left over pesos. I really wanted to buy wine, but didn't want to carry anything else that would weigh anything.

I found my gate and then looked for a place to hang out. There were a few restaurants, but they were all crowded and had long lines. When I checked in, they told me that the Red Carpet club was being renovated, but I could use the American Express Club. I wasn't sure what this meant, but when I saw the United Red Carpet club, I thought maybe there would be some wine and something to eat and a place to relax. So I set out to find the American Express Club.

When I entered, a guy said, "he's from United", and sent me down to a woman at the end of the counter. How did he know I was from United? She looked at my boarding pass and then told me they'd make an announcement at 8:30 when we were going to board.

I found a seat next to the air conditioner, which was on and felt great and dropped all of my stuff down and sat down. The room was packed, and people were reading, drinking, some people were working on laptops. I went up to the bar and got a glass of wine, which was free. Soon they came out with some cheese and crackers and olives. I loaded up a plate and sat down and enjoyed my wine and cheese. Not bad.

After a while I got bored, and left. I walked back towards my gate and saw the massage station I had passed on the way to the American Express Club. There were two massage chairs free. I walked up and said I wanted a 30 minute massage and was seated in the chair. It was a nice neck and shoulder massage which cost me $25 US for 30 minutes. More than what I was paying in Buenos Aires, but a good way to kill time.

I got to my gate and they had already boarded all of the people who were in the waiting area. After clearing security again, I got on the plane, which was still relatively empty. I settled in, was offered a glass of champagne, which I accepted, and relaxed in my very comfortable seat.

The flight was about half full when we took off, which was very unusual. Business class had lots of empty seats and the seat next to me was empty, which I liked. It gave me more room to spread out.

I had a few more glasses of champagne, and then a glass of red wine with my filet mignon. Dinner was great, and I was getting drunk. All of the rushing and worrying had faded behind me and I was now enjoying the fruits of getting to the airport early, the massage and the many glasses of wine and champagne I'd had. I watched a movie with Meg Ryan and then tried to sleep.

After flying business class on this long flight, I can't imagine going back to economy. I was able to get this ticket in business class because I had miles from my credit card. I think it's better to take fewer trips and spend more (or use miles) on a ticket, than to travel a lot and get squeezed into economy. I think of all of those long, crowded flights to Asia that I used to do. Horrible!

Well, I arrived in one piece, got through customs and immigration in D.C. (more lines and more waiting, and more hot airports - this time because it was really hot in D.C.). I made it to SFO, my friend Maria picked me up, I got my car and made it home to my apartment, which ws nice and clean and almost just like I left it.

I now have some unpacking to go and then will be ready for a nap.

I have to say that this was one of the best things I've done since I've started having summers off. I've done other fun things in the summer, but this was REALLY fun. Studying Spanish, even though it was frustrating at times, really taught me a lot about being a language learner, and a teacher, and I did learn some Spanish. It was fun taking tango lessons, and having a fantasy romance, and being in a beautiful, yet affordable city.

I'm glad I was able to keep a blog and take lots of photos so that I can remember this trip. I'm glad to many of my friends enjoyed reading my blog and let me know. But more than anything, I am glad to be home.

I will definitely be going back to Buenos Aires - either next summer or for my sabbatical, or both. I don't know if I'll do a blog when I return, because I don't know that it will be as exciting as it was for me, this first time.

Thanks to everyone who traveled with me on this blog.

The End.

Hernan

A few people have asked me why I haven't posted photos of Hernan. To be honest, I haven't taken any photos of him. I don't know why, but I guess I was just so much enjoying his company that I never thought to take a photo. The last night when we had our dinner at the Spanish restaurant, I told him, "Quiero una foto de voz" and he said, "una foto tuya". I wasn't sure what he meant at first, but it turned out he was correcting my Spanish. Hmmmph!

Well, anyway, I never got to take a photo that night because I didn't bring my camera with me and he and I went our separate ways afterwards, but I e-mailed him and asked him for a photo. This is what he sent.

What can I say? He's an artist, and this is artistic as are all of the photos I've seen that he's taken.

So folks, it's really not about what he looked like, but take my word, he is very cute, it's about the experiences I had with him. I like this photo because I don't feel like I'm invading his privacy by posting it.

Last Dinner with Hernan

Well my fantasy romance has come to an end. I know all this time I've been pretending that I've been dating Hernan, and I have to admit now, there's been a little bit of distortion by omission. I guess I'd have to say we are just friends. I'll let you interpret from there and spare the details.

But I have to say that it's been a wonderful friendship and a great fantasy romance.

Tonight we had our final dinner.

I was able to come home from school and my zig-zag walk home and take a nap, then watch a little TV Cronica and some game shows before Hernan got here. He made reservations for us at a Spanish restaurant not too far from here - located in this strange group of restaurants under the Avenida 9 de Julio at the very end. I discovered this place one day walking home. It's a great way to cross 9 de Julio without having to wait for the lights (it's impossible in most parts to cross in one light because it's so wide) - just walk under it!

I've taken many walks in my neighborhood, my Sunday morning walks, which I love, when it's quiet and there is no traffic and the air is clean from one day of less traffic, but I have never walked through parts of my neighborhood at night, which was a very strange revelation for me. I always come and go from one direction when I go out at night. Tonight we had to walk in the direction I go to drop off my laundry.

I have seen art galleries around the neighborhood, but didn't realize that visiting art galleries was such the thing to do at night, or maybe it was just tonight. There were several art openings with people wearing furs drinking white wine, and other people leaving galleries en masse and going to others. It was very odd.

We got to the restaurant in a few minutes and they had our table waiting for us.

This is the first restaurant Hernan took me to where I could see the menu (even though I said to myself I was going to bring my glasses, I forgot them). Because it was well lit, I could read the menu, but since I don't know Spanish food, it was like it was in Greek.

Hernan and I discussed some of the options a bit, but he went ahead and ordered.

First he ordered gamba con ajo - turns out it was shrimp with garlic. I don't know why they used a different word from the one I know for shrimp, and even though Hernan explained it to me, I still didn't get it. But they were regular sized shrimp, peeled and headless, in olive oil with nicely fried pieces of garlic. It was delicious.

Then we had pulpo a la something or other. It was octopus, sliced thinly with potatoes and paprika. I never knew paprika had so much flavor. I think I've only used it for deviled eggs. This dish had lots of paprika and also lots of olive oil. It was wonderful. Very rich, and even though it didn't look like a lot, it was really filling. The flavors were fantastic and the octopus was very tender.

We finished with a desert of cream a la catalan, which was basically a creme brulee, and just as yummy.

It was a fun evening, because of the food, but also it was a great place for conchetto-watching.

For anyone who hasn't been paying attention, or who is new to the blog, conchetto/a are people who have a lot of money and show it. I've been told different things about them - they are nouveau rich, or they don't have a lot of money but pretend they do, they are snobbish, affected, women with furs blond hair, etc. But there is something about them, and about this word, that attracts me. You can also say someone or something is 'chetto'.

Well, walking over through my neighborhood and then sitting in this restaurant was like finding the conchetto mother-lode. Because Hernan is a playwrite, and I am not from here, we were both fascinated by the people in this restaurant.

I loved watching this family that was sitting straight ahead of me. The mother reminded me of one of the older women on a Mexican soap opera. The people on Mexican soap operas never look Mexican. They always look very Spanish with blond hair and very European features. But there is always at least one "mala" an evil woman, who taunts some poor young and innocent maiden. And they always live in some big hacienda and there is usually a more Indian-looking family or at least a woman, and a handsome young man who rides horses, and a useless old man. Well, minus the Indian family, this family sitting next to Hernan was exactly like a family from a Mexican soap opera. La mala - the evil, yet elegant older woman, the useless old man, the innocent young maiden, and the young man who rides horses. I imagined them going back to their ranch after the dinner.

I don't know if the young man and woman were a couple or brother and sister, but they got up and went outside while the older couple sat and talked a bit, and then the woman, who was very conchetta, had to put her fur poncho sort of thing on, fluff up her hair and then put her scarf on and throw one loose end of it over her shoulder with great panache. It was quite a Hollywood performance and she reminded me of some aged Hollywood actress who could only find work on game shows, like Kitty Carlisle on Match Game.

There were other people who came in making grand entrances and there was a LOT of fur!

When Hernan went to the bathroom he came back and told me there was a guy in the bathroom who was a famous musical reporter and also kind of musician. He said to imagine Iggy Pop or someone like that, but that image didn't help me understand who he was. I looked back to where he was sitting and saw a slightly older guy, though not too old, with longish, but stylishly cut gray hair sitting down. Meant nothing to me. Hernan said when he was in the bathroom he heard this sound like someone snorting cocaine.

When this guy left, there was a slight hush in the restaurant, though the chatter didn't stop completely, it did die down.

I got up to use the restroom because I love checking out restrooms in all of the places I go here. It's always an adventure because I never know what I'll find.

In so many restaurants I have to stand in front of the doors for a minute to figure out which one is the men's and which is the women's room. I know it sounds strange, especially since I passed level 7, but the reason is that they don't always have them clearly marked. I think it is a trend here to come up with a creative way to signify what is the men's and what is the women's room. Like they'll have a tango shoe - one male shoe and one female shoe, or maybe a geisha or a sumo wrestler, a rose or a cigar. I feel like I'm gender-challenged each time. Do you know which is the male and which is the female signal?

Well, I was please to find today that it said simply, "Damas" and "Caballeros" - I still hesitated, but I pushed open the door with the kind of confidence that someone who passed level 7 should really have.

The nice thing that has happened with Hernan lately is that we're speaking more Spanish. I think I've gained more confidence, and also he has become more patient with my Spanish. I think he thought I didn't really speak Spanish, and it's actually an honor for me to be able to speak it with him, because it means it is tolerable. I know this might be hard for folks to understand, but other than once when I had a few too many drinks of Nicaraguan rum, I haven't had many moments in my life when I felt like I could communicate clearly in Spanish. These two months of class have just confirmed my feeling that it is an elusive goal, because I felt more times when I was not understanding and communicating the way I wanted than times when I was successful. But hanging out with Hernan and knowing that he speaks English fluently, even if not perfectly, and with such cute additions like the Argentine that sounds like Italian accent and the gestures, and being able to speak Spanish with him, feels like a door has been opened to a place I always wanted to go but never quite got to. It was also nice to be able to rely on English from time to time to clarify something, or say something I wanted to but wouldn't otherwise be able to do. Because he wants to practice his English, we were switching back and forth quite a bit. Also, when the waiter came to our table, he'd switch into English, I'm assuming, so the waiter couldn't understand what we were talking about.

It was a fun evening of people watching, great food and good Spanish practice for me.

We talked a little bit about what I could do if I came her for a sabbatical. Hernan thinks I should study cooking and massage, but he said that as a joke (I think) so that I could cook for him and give him massages (little does he know I can do both). We didn't really come up with something, but I think if I came back, rather than mess with this school business, it would be better if I found a way to put myself in a position where I had to interact with people on a daily basis and speak Spanish. I don't know what that could be - some sort of volunteer work, or studying something else, I don't know yet.

It was a little sad saying good-bye to Hernan on my corner. I found myself bowing. I don't know what that was about, but I think it was that I felt awkward saying good-bye but not wanting to feel sad about it. I don't really feel sad. It was a short-lived fantasy, and I really enjoyed it. I'd like to hold on to the wonderful feeling of the experience and not spoil it by wanting to hold on to the experience and feeling sad because I can't.

I told Hernan my trip here was a little like Fantasy Island. I was able to live a life here that I am not able to live in San Francisco. Tonight's dinner, with a bottle of wine, appetizer and desert, cost us $80 for the two of us. In San Francisco, a similar dinner of equal quality with the kind of people who were there tonight and the number of furs, would easily cost us $80 each. So, yes, tonight was a little on the extravagant side, but it was affordable for me (I treated Hernan). In San Francisco, I'd really have to think twice before spending that amount of money.

So the whole thing, seeing my money go further than it normally does, having a fake boyfriend, speaking a language that really isn't mine, blending in to the point of people asking me for directions (happened again today), maid and laundry service, etc., etc., was like living a fantasy. But like on Fantasy Island, the show comes to an end and the celebrities who are pretending they are regular people return to their normal lives appreciating them even more because they know they are real.

I hope that I will be able to return to my life and appreciate it more. i think I will. There are so many things I miss and I've been gone long enough to miss them, yet, because I haven't been gone that long, I know they'll still be there when I get back.



(By the way, I've updated my photo blog and will be putting more pictures there before I leave.)

Marcela and Claudia

I took this picture of Marcela and Claudia and it is in focus - I really don't know why that woman who took our pictures made all three blurred (I can understand one). Marcela looks angelic here too. Simply adorable! Marcela is of Italian descent, and Claudia's grandparents are from Syria. A country of immigrants!

Cynthia and Nancy

Here is Nancy and Cynthia on the first floor of the building as we were saying good-bye. It's very strange, when I come home from school I can still hear both of their voices speaking Spanish. They both have very distinctive accents - Cynthia speaks Spanish with a Chinese accent (Argentine Spanish with a Chinese accent is very strange) and Nancy speaks with a very American accent and a little touch of Spain. I wonder what I sound like to them.

los chicos

Here's a photo of the guys who work in the office with the big window - Ignacio (with the red scarf) and Diego. I liked Ignacio a lot - he always called me "Richard" and was very friendly. Diego was a little too officious for me, but he was a nice guy too.

Finished with that school crap...

It is very strange what my hand is doing in this photograph. The woman who took this photo, took three of me, Marcela and Claudia, and all three of them are blurred. I look horrible in all three, but Marcela, who is in the front with the reddish hair, looks adorable in every one. I have to say, Claudia doesn't look too hot either. Marcela looks like a little angel and we're two demons behind her.

Well, I'm finished. I now have two certificates, one certifying that I completed level 6 and the other for level 7.

I got up at 8 this morning, which was earlier than I've been getting up (normal wake up time has been 9 for me lately), but I also went to bed earlier - 12:30.

I took a quick shower, checked my e-mail (and maybe sent some) and had some tea, a little yogurt drink and some walnuts and then had to rush out to be at school by 9:30. I left here about 8:50.

I walked quickly down Florida Street to the subte station on Corrientes. I figured if I was going to travel the subte at rush hour, I was going to get on the train where I'd be able to sit. It took me about 10 minutes to get to the station and when the train arrived, sure enough, it was empty and I got a seat. I got to Pasteur Station at about 9:15.

I would have taken a taxi, but I think it was actually faster to go by subte at that hour. Also, I only had two hundred peso bills and didn't want to chance a taxi with a large bill.

I was able to get change in the cafeteria at school and had a medialuna with ham and cheese (which was quite strange because the medialuna was sweet), and a cafe con leche.

I went upstairs and Nancy motioned for me to go to the classroom she was entering. I went in and the two of us sat and eventually Ignacio came in and wrote some information on the board. He then looked at us and told us we were in the wrong room. Martin had told Nancy we'd be in room 301, which is where we were, but in fact, we were supposed to be in room 307.

When we got to 307, students were there and had already begun their exam. This was the 2nd time I arrived late even though I was at school on time!

The exam was about sources of alternative energy, specifically bio-fuels like ethanol and cane. It had nothing (really) to do with global warming, so I watched an Inconvenient Truth for nothing. Fortunately, the article was easy to understand.

There were two vocabulary from context questions, where we had to guess the meaning of two words that were very new for us. I really liked that exercise. There were some true false and then some comprehension questions. For the true/false, we had to justify our answers. I also liked that part.

Then came the hard parts. The stupid grammar!

The first grammar exercise was fill in the blank. There was a paragraph with words missing and we had to choose from a list to complete it. It was very difficult and I know this is where I made the most mistakes.

The 2nd grammar part was rewriting incorrect sentences to correct them. This wasn't so bad but I might have messed up a little here too.

In the last part we had to write, choosing either to respond to the ideas in the article or about one of the readings that we read in class. I wrote about the article and how we need to find alternative energy sources, but also reduce our consumption. It wasn't that hard.

I got 90 points on the written part of the exam. So did Nancy. Cynthia got 63 or something like that. She said her writing was bad.

Then we had a 2 hour break until we had to return for the oral exam. Ugh.

Nancy took me to the office of GIC, the program I signed up with that charged me the twice the amount that Anna paid (she registered independently). GIC offered some other activities, but I didn't take part because they were for the young kids mostly.

I had to return my cell phone and get my deposit, but the woman who had the money was not there.

So Nancy and I went to the cafe with good coffee and I had a hot pastrami sandwich. I wanted to go there to get these jars of coffee beans covered with yogurt and chocolate as gifts for my teachers to thank them for putting up with me. I got some yesterday for the guys in the little office with the big window (I guess it's the registrar's office) and they really appreciated them. They put each jar in a nice little bag and it looked like a nice token of my appreciation.

The pastrami was good, by the way.

Then we returned to school and had our oral interview.

They had the three of us - Nancy, Cynthia and I, sit together and the interviewer asked us first to introduce ourselves. Then she showed us some pictures and had us talk about them. The first was some sort of fruit stand in some tropical country, and the 2nd was a very polluted river. She then asked us some questions about immigration. It was an odd way to take an exam and I wondered if I should have spoken more than I did (because Cynthia and Nancy spoke a lot).

Then we had to wait again until 3 for our results and our certificates.

I went back to GIC and had to wait another 30 minutes for the woman with the cell phone deposits to show up. I got my deposit and went back to school where I ran into Claudia and she invited me to sit with her in the cafeteria, when Marcela joined us and we took this picture.

Finally, at 3 I went upstairs where everyone was waiting in the hall for their results.

After waiting about 30 minutes they posted the results on the wall. Everyone's names were visible as well as their scores. People crowded to see how they did, as well as how their classmates did. It was a very odd way to announce grades.

I got a 92 on my oral interview (Nancy got 93), so my total score for the semester was 91, Nancy's was 92. I didn't notice what Cynthia's was.

Come to think of it, Marcela told me this morning that class participation and homework also counted towards our grade, but I didn't see that reflected in our scores unless it was already figured in.

Well, I was satisfied. I do think I learned some things, but think my score is more a reflection of my cumulative knowledge of Spanish than what I actually learned in this school. The fact that the Chinese students in general were not passing, tells me the teaching is not that good. Those of us who did well, already had a strong base of Spanish and maybe were already at the level (or beyond).

I walked home in a sort of zig-zag through the city, snapping photos and stopping for a few empanadas on the way. I tried to enter the court building, but guard told me I couldn't (even though if I had just walked in, he wouldn't have noticed - I made the mistake of asking him if I could enter). Then I found an interesting looking synagogue and took a picture. I saw that they had these copper plates on the gate and crossed the street and took a photo of them. A guard came out of a booth and told me I couldn't take pictures. What the f%#@! I can understand security, but why can't I take a photo of a building? He told me there was a museum that was open on Tuesdays. That wasn't any help to me. I asked him what the plates were, and he said the 12 tribes of Israel. It was very interesting, but I was pissed that I got shooed away.

I stopped in the museum of the Theater Cervantes and there were lots of photos of actors and tributes to the theater in general, but the theater itself was closed for renovation.

Eventually I made my way home because it was a bit chilly out today (after the summer-like weather yesterday) and I needed to pee.

I'm having dinner with Hernan tonight, perhaps the last time I'll see him. We're going to a Spanish restaurant. I'm not going to consider any fantasies of long-distance relationships and actually we're really just friends. I hope we will keep in touch, but I know from past experience that is very unlikely. It was fun while it lasted, but like the weather, things change and people come and go.

I'm going to take a nap now to get rested up for this evening. It was a very stressful day with the testing and the waiting. Now, this school crap is officially over and done with.

Tanghetto

This was in my inbox this morning. I really should be getting ready to go to school for my final exam, but I thought I'd post this while drinking my tea. The song is "Mente Fragil" - fragile mind. I guess Tanghetto is an electronic tango group. Well, now I just checked the e-mail I got and it says the band is Mente Fragil, and the song is "Emigrante" - oh, I'm confused, but I think they are probably wrong based on what's on You Tube. It doesn't matter really, what's in the name of a song or a group? The video is cute - check it out!