Fun With Hernan

Today was one of the best Sundays I've ever had. It felt very complete, it was relaxing, fun and interesting.

After the gym this morning and lunch, I read a little Newsweek Argentina and then took a nap. I was woken up by the phone. It was Hernan confirming that we were going to meet and go to a gay tango class in San Telmo. He said he would meet me there at 4:30 and then we could walk around San Telmo a bit.

I thought I was leaving early because I wanted to take some photos along the way and explore a little, but it turned out I got there at the same time as Hernan. I took the subte to Catedral, which put me right in the middle of Plaza de Mayo where the government palace and the national cathedral are, as well as Avenida de Mayo, one of my favorite streets - a grand old avenue and the Cabildo, the only Spanish Colonial building (maybe the only one in a prominent position?) - they destroyed all of the old colonial buildings to construct the neo-classical European style buildings of Avenida de Mayo. It really is classic Buenos Aires.

Walking from the Plaza de Mayo to San Telmo was also great. It was a gorgeous spring day and the buildings in San Telmo are also very grand, though a bit faded - evidence of a glorious past long gone.

I walked down Bolivar Street because Defensa, the street where I was going is where the Sunday San Telmo fair takes place. I knew it would be some serious pedestrian obstacle course. It was great walking parallel to all of the excitement of the San Telmo fair - you could still feel it, and at times hear it, but it was pretty easy walking with only a few people on the street and very little traffic.

I ran into Hernan on the way over to Defensa. I heard someone say "chaucha", but I thought it was two guys saying "ciao" to each other. It was great running into him before we got into the heart of the fair.

We walked through a bunch of people selling stuff and found seats outside of a Bar right on Plaza Dorrego. As we arrived a table of ladies was just getting up, so we sat down and had a great view of everything.

And then this guy came up and asked if the two other seats at our table were free. Hernan was kind of funny with the guy, because he didn't want him to sit down with us. The guy was a German tourist and I guess in Germany you might sit with other people, but Hernan said not in Argentina. When the guy asked if he could sit down, Hernan said, "facing the other way?" The guy sat down and when we placed our order, he placed his, but then when he wanted to pay separately, the waiter was very confused. It was kind of funny. Eventually, Hernan spoke to him a bit and I think everything was better.

We then went down the block to a gay bed and breakfast called Lugar Gay (Gay Place). It's in an old four story building with an incredible flight of stairs that must be murder dragging a heavy suitcase (or two) up.

The tango class was up on the patio on the roof. It was a great location with the beautiful day and a view of the old church in San Telmo that had two towers, one recently cleaned and one filthy with soot. It was a beautiful view and a beautiful blue sky was overhead with sounds from the Sunday San Telmo street fair drifting up from the streets.

Once the class started there were about 12 students. The teacher was Augustin, who is the guy who organizes lots of queer tango events in Buenos Aires, including the milonga La Marshall, that I had a horrible experience at last year. I won't go into details here because I've decided to forget it.

Augustin ran a good class. He separated us into beginners and advanced and ran two separate classes at the same time in this very small space. It was hard dancing with other people doing other stuff, but that is part of the challenge of tango. It was a two hour class and it was a lot of fun. I'm glad Hernan went with me though. I think we might go back. I think Hernan really wants to dance tango, but doesn't have anyone to do it with, and I like going with someone and having someone to dance and practice with. Eventually, I'm going to get Hernan to start coming to my other tango classes and maybe even my lessons with Marcelo.

After class we went to a wonderful ice cream parlor called Nonna Bianco (Granny White). It was really good ice cream and it was a great place filled with people in the middle of what was the last gasps of the Sunday San Telmo Street Fair. Some artesans still had stuff on the street and traffic had not started passing through yet, but most people had gone and there was more litter on the dark streets than there were people.

We went to Hernan's apartment building to have a mate with his neighbor. I don't know her name, but she was a character. Very high strung artist type. I think she is a photographer. There was another neighbor there. The two of them were organizing something - maybe a photo exhibit, maybe a benefit, maybe a photo exhibit benefit, I have no idea. When we walked in, they were both talking on the phone at the same time. Each on a different phone having two different conversations. Eventually they both got off and then talked to Hernan. I actually understood a lot of the conversation, which is good, because listening to native speakers talk to each other in a different language is very different from them talking to you when they know how to adjust their speech. But, even though I understood the words, I didn't know what the hell they were talking about. Every now and then they'd look at me and I'd nod my head like I understood and hope they wouldn't ask me any questions.

The neighbors were both real characters. They shared a mate. Sharing a mate is a real ritual of friendship. I really like the custom and think I am going to start taking part in it even if it keeps me up at night. Maybe I really need to just live like people here live and eat dinner late and stay up until 2 am and not get a lot of sleep but just pop a mate when I'm feeling sluggish. I think that is why most people are thin.

I didn't take part in the mate until Hernan encouraged me to drink it right before we left. It was actually really good. The herb was delicious, almost like chocolate. And the water temperature was perfect.

We left and walked through San Telmo, now pretty much deserted and dark, to catch the D line. I got off at Puerrydon and Hernan continued on to Belgrano where he is staying with a friend.

We kissed good-night on this crowded train where no one blinked an eye at two men kissing.

Boy, I love Argentina!

Burger King and Space

Personal space is a funny cultural phenomena. As an American, I know I have a larger than normal personal space requirement, but I don't know what to do about it. I've been laughing a lot at invasions of my space which border on the ridiculous, like when I am walking down the street and a person is approaching from the other direction and they are on the opposite side of the sidewalk and there is no reason for them to change, but they do, and they walk directly into the space that I am about to occupy and I have to walk around them. Por que mierda...?!!!

Today at the gym I was getting irritated. It seems that men at the gym are especially fond of invading my space, it's almost like some kind of macho head trip or something, or else there is another reason that I am not seeing (like maybe they are flirting with me?) I like a nice space to work out in, which is why I've developed a workout routine that lets me claim a space and not have to move around the gym a lot. I start off on the eliptical trainer for some cardio. Little chance of anyone getting in my way there, right? Well, actually, no. Because the eliptical trainers are right in front of the TVs and people, (usually men) like to come and stand right where the little arm things swing forward and back to watch TV. I've hit people a few times.

After that, I go and use a chest press, and watch for an opportunity to move over to the cables that are in front of a mirror in the corner. I can do pretty much a full body workout with the cables, and I do it as a circuit, so I don't spend a lot of time resting (I move from chest to arms to back, etc., with no rest). And it's a nice little isolated corner, so I don't have to walk around people and they don't have to walk around me.

Today when I went over to use the cables, another guy came and used the cables behind me, but he wanted to look at himself in the mirror, so we were playing this little game of me moving out of his way and then him moving over to where I was so he could see himself better. It was ridiculous and I eventually left and went over to use some dumbells on a bench in front of another mirror in a different corner. There was a guy using the leg press next to me and he got up and moved directly in front of me and did some weird kind of lunge thing with a towel in his mouth that just went on forever and ever. It wasn't just that he had moved into my space, the exercise he was doing was so ridiculous I just couldn't take it. I couldn't finish the workout I was doing there because he had moved right into the space that I was standing. I eventually gave up in frustration. I'd had a good workout and I didn't want to play these macho space invading games.

Walking home, I was debating on whether or not I wanted to cook something for lunch, or eat in a cafe outside. When I passed Pertutti, the place I had in mind to eat, the outdoor area was full, and I was too hungry to go to the supermarket, decide what to buy and then go home and cook it. So, I went to Burger King.

I have to confess that this is my 2nd time to eat at Burger King this week. I had a Bacon Cheeseburger last time and it was really good. The meat is Argentine beef and it is very tasty. Today I got a Churrasquito Pampeano. It was a cheesesteak sandwich - a nice piece of thin steak folded in half on a delicious baguette with tomato, mayonaise, cheeze whiz (or something like that), and a piece of ham in the middle of the steak. It was really yummy. I was sitting there enjoying it when I heard this horrible loud squeaky, crackly kind of noise. I realized it was the two girls sitting across from me playing with the ring tones on their cell phones. They both went through the whole 250 ring tone possibilities on both of their phones, at the same time. Then one of them switched to the radio on her phone and played music through the tiny little cell phone speaker. It was sooooo annoying! I was trying to think of something I could do other than shoot them daggers (which is what I was doing) that would invade their space in the same way mine was being invaded....like throw french fries at them. Instead, I got up and left.

Speaking of cell phones, another annoying thing that people do in restaurants is talk on those little walkie talkie things that some cell phones have. You can hear the other person talking, again through the little speaker, and then the beeping noise as they switch over to the other person. It is a hundred times more annoying than a regular cell phone conversation (which are actually rare here since people have to pay for each call and they don't talk endlessly like folks in the US who are trying to use as many minutes as possible to get the most out of their plans it seems). I think this little walkie talkie business is either free or very cheap, because it seems to be pretty common, unfortunately.

When my personal space gets invaded I get very grumpy. This is not good. I don't know what I can do to adjust to this cultural difference. Maybe dancing close embrace tango will help, since it involves having another person pressed up against your chest as you try to walk, but I think it's going to take more than that.

For all of my friends back home, you're going to have to keep an eye on me when I get back. If I truly do adjust to this space issue it means I am going to be driving into oncoming traffic and bumping people with my shopping cart in Trader Joe's. Both situations are potentially deadly!

Tango Lesson #3

I had a tango lesson with Marcelo tonight at 7 p.m. in the studio he rents at Callao and Corrientes. I left here around 6:30 and walked down Callao, which I don't normally do because it is a pretty busy street and I hate walking next to so much traffic. But being the weekend, traffic is quite a bit lighter, and Callao is a wide street with lots of sidewalk space and some very beautiful buildings.

It was a glorious evening. Warm, and the sun was just setting casting a pinkish hue on all of the beautiful old buildings lining Callao. One building had a kind of tower on top with lights inside and it looked spectacular against the darkening sky with the remants of the pink from the sunset.

I arrived in time to grab a quick slice of pizza at La Continental. It is much cheaper when you stand, I think it might have been 2 pesos less than if I got my pizza sitting down.

I took my time going to the studio because Marcelo has been running late, and I also wanted my lesson to be a little less than an hour, since an hour of private lessons is VERY intense at my level.

When I climbed the winding marble staircase to the first floor (remember the ground floor is zero), there were a bunch of people standing in the hallway, including Marcelo. In the entry to the place where people rent studio space was a young woman lying on the floor and people surrounding her. They had her legs raised, and she was conscious. Now I understood why when I buzzed to enter, they buzzed me in immediately (usually I have to identify myself somehow).

Marcelo and I chatted for a bit, how are you kind of stuff, while we waited for them to move this girl. Then some guys in uniforms came, I guess paramedics. The put her in a regular chair, and then slid the chair out into the hallway and loaded her on to the elevator. The elevator started beeping loudly as they were loading her on, I guess because it was open too long. It was quite a scene. It kind of reminded me of the chaos of my arabic class.

We entered the door and our studio space was clearing out. It was like there were a hundred people in there (probably 10-15). It's a small space and outside of the dance studio is a small desk area. People kept filing out of the dance studio into the desk area where we were standing right inside the door and there was just no room for anyone to go anymore. Finally, Marcelo and I entered the dance studio which smelled of very sweaty bodies. Hundreds of them.

I had been practicing the basic step as Marcelo taught me yesterday, his 1 being my 2, and the little rhythm that he uses. I practiced last night and again this morning, knowing that learning takes place best if you retrace whatever it is that you want to learn before sleep and immediately after waking up. It helped. Only Marcelo didn't compliment me on my improvement. He found more things for me to work on. It's actually very good that he is picking on every little thing. If my lead isn't strong enough, or I'm not in time with the music, or I'm not clear about where we are going, or I miss a step, whatever, he corrected me immediately. Sometimes it was frustrating because I was really trying, but in the end, I really appreciated all of his corrections because it was making me a better dancer. I think I did a terrific job even though he didn't say so.

We danced several songs with me leading, and he had me play a little with the rhythm, sometimes pausing, sometimes going faster, and then throwing in some other steps like this fancy little stop thing he taught me and some ochos. I was feeling more confident than yesterday, even though I still feel like I'm riding a bike with training wheels.

When I saw we had about 5 minutes left, I asked him to lead me. This is my favorite part, and as I follower with him I feel like I have really improved and like I can dance. He keeps his steps simple and his lead is VERY strong and clear, but he also changed things up a lot and I only stumbled a few times. I imagined us dancing at a milonga and me looking like I knew what I was doing. I'm excited about going next week.

We danced one tango and then a milonga and then he told me to lead him to a milonga, which I did. It was tough and he made me do it to another song. I was hoping we'd have time for him to lead me in a Vals, but I think he really wants me to focus on leading. He told me that when I go to the class tomorrow with Hernan, I need to lead. I'm going to follow, because I think it is really good to feel the way people lead here. I have noticed that with Marcelo and with Hernan, their hand that goes behind my back does a lot of the steering. I never learned to use that hand before now. It makes such a difference. I found it hard to do with Marcelo, but now that I am aware of it, it is something I am going to focus on when I return to the regular tango classes at the Escuela Argentina de Tango on Monday.

As we left the building we encountered a protest going down Corrientes. This must be a major protest route as it ends up at the Obelisk. I'm not sure what the protest was, but there were people banging drums and lots of people with flags and some with pictures of people.

It was a beautiful walk back to Santa Fe towards home. I decided to stop for a small pizza and a beer for dinner (it was only 8:30, so still early for a real dinner), then I got a very small ice cream (this one will have to count for the coming week), and went to a bookstore to see if I could find a book to learn how to write in Arabic.

Mario texted me and seemed like he wanted to meet but he didn't respond when I told him I was on my way home. I'm afraid he is going to text me at 11 pm like he did last week. I don't know if I will ever adjust to the crazy hours that people keep here, but it seems like weekends you are considered to be certifiable if you go to bed before 2 a.m. I guess I'm crazy because I don't think I am going to make it to midnight.

Arabic Class #2

I cry when I laugh. I mean, my eyes water. Even just a little laugh can produce tears, but a real laugh has my eyes watering like crazy. Today in my arabic class my eyes were wet almost the entire time.

I was one of the earliest students there, I think maybe the 2nd, even though I arrived pretty close to 10. I stopped in the bar before class to get a cup of coffee and a medialuna (bar means cafe here - I'm not a lush).

When I got to the classroom, I said a-salamu-laikum to my teacher and kissed her good morning and took my seat. There was a new woman in the class, a short, older woman, maybe possibly in her 60's. She was talking to the teacher but I didn't pay much attention. I pulled out the cards I made to study the letters and tried to review a little, since I hadn't done much studying over the week, other than to make these cards for the 10 or so letters we were introduced to last week.

Another student, Fernando, arrived, and went around and kissed everyone, including me. I was curious to see if all of the students would kiss everyone. As more students came in, they just said good morning and went to their seats. Kissing didn't seem to be the norm (I need to know for when I enter the room and there are other people there).

It was after 10, but there were not very many students there. The teacher was writing the entire alphabet on the board - the name of the letter in roman letters and the arabic symbol. I made some flash cards and also copied them in my notebook.

When there were a handful of students, she started the lesson. I think the first thing we did was go over the alphabet. It is very confusing. There are a few letters that have the same name - I think there are three called "ha". I don't know what the difference is. I think the teacher said they are just written differently. I think there is more to it. I am finding that I'm missing some of the explanation. There are reasons for this. One, it is in Spanish, so I'm missing some things due to simple language, but also the room has terrible acoustics, and third, while the teacher talks, the other students are all talking.

It is total chaos.

This new student is a real character. Turns out she is Syrian, she said she is from Syria. But I don't know why she doesn't know Arabic. She also said she was a teacher - the worst kind of student (I'm an exception). She kind of took over the class several times. When the teacher was presenting a dialogue, the idea being that she would say a line and we'd repeat it, this woman took over and started reading the dialogue out loud before the teacher. The problem was she was reading the whole thing, including the Spanish translation, and she didn't know how to pronounce some words. The teacher stood there and smiled and then when the woman finished the teacher took over and started again. It was a mess.

The other guy who asked a lot of questions last week came late, and with him and this woman, the class became like a three ring circus. The other students, especially those sitting on my side of the room (these two were on the opposite side of the room) started making jokes about what was going on. That's when I started laughing, because the whole thing was so comical. First of all there were these letters that were the equivalent of random forms that noodles in soup can take, and then the ha, ha, ha, letters and za and za, which made no sense to me, and then this woman saying things like "I don't have the book so I don't know what we are doing" and the guy who asks a lot of questions asking a lot of questions and the other students making jokes about this new woman wanting to take this other guy sitting next to her on a date and him putting his arm on her chair like he was going to embrace her without her knowing he was doing this behind her back because she was so busy making excuses for why she was not paying attention.

I really liked the little corner of the room that I was in, and since other students didn't have books, I had two people sharing mine and it was a good way for me to get to talk to people, since the class itself was very teacher centered (well, and centered on these two students who were dominating it). When we were not working with the alphabet, the teacher went over three dialogues in the book, but the tape did not match the dialogue. For example the dialogue in the book was between two men, and then two women, to show us how gender changes some words, but the dialogue on the tape was between a man and a woman. The teacher said it was "the same" (I'm realizing she said that a lot when things were not really the same), but it was very confusing. Fortunately, the very nice woman sitting next to me, Claudia Duffy, was very helpful. I was surprised to see that Claudia's last name was Duffy when we made an e-mail list. She said her grandfather on her father's side was Irish and on her mother's side French! I'm still surprised to learn that there is such a big Lebanese-Syrian population here. They are the third largest group of immigrants in Argentina after the Italians (Spanish are number one). And here is a woman with an Irish last name! I really fit right in here!

The class was really a lot of fun and it's a great experience. I was thinking how I'd like to have the experience of not having any Spanish spoken at all and just have the class 100% in Arabic so I could really feel what my students experience, but it's hard enough for my Italian teacher to do a class in all Italian (even with it being very similar to Spanish), if our Arabic teacher were to try only speaking Arabic, I think the students would take over the class.

Taking over things seems to be big here.

I read the flyer I got from the little protest march that passed me after the traumatic robbery and it turns out a group of students took over their high school because there were 40,000 scholarships that were canceled by the Macri government (Buenos Aires gov't). The students took over the classrooms and even though the ministry of education forbid the teachers from giving classes, they continue to teach. There is also going to be a 24 hour teaching marathon. Wow, incredible!

I wonder what it would be like to be a teacher here.

Towards the end of class Hernan sent me a text. He wanted to know if I wanted to have lunch. He suggested we cook, but by the time I got home and he was waiting outside of my building for me, I suggested we go out to eat.

We went to a little restaurant around the block called "Celetto". It was very cheto. Burgundy walls with a mustard colored sofa and red velvet chairs. It was nice. I had grilled salmon and a cesar salad and Hernan had pasta with shrimp. We shared a very yummy chocolate cake for desert.

We came back here and Hernan uploaded a bunch of music onto my computer. I now have lots of cheto electronic music on my computer. It is a beautiful spring day and the sun was streaming into my bedroom as we both lay on my huge bed in the sun and took a nap, Hernan said "like cats". He just left to meet his crazy cousin from Corrientes Province and I need to get ready for my next tango lesson tonight with Marcelo.

Tango Lesson #2

I know I've posted a lot today, but I did a lot. I'm trying to focus each post a little more rather than have each one be a summary of everything I did.

Today after the trauma of the stolen purse in La Continental, I had time to kill before my tango lesson with Marcelo. I was still shaken up and thought maybe I'd see the robber. I walked down Corrientes a little. Corrientes reminds me of midtown Manhatten or Broadway. There are lots of theaters and it has a very New York feel - busy, energetic, lots of billboards and flashing lights.

I looked in some shop windows, bought an alfajore, and stopped at a newsstand to get a copy of Newsweek Argentina so I could read the articles Juliana gave me yesterday but also read some of the other articles, like the one about Obama. I wanted to see what they had to say.

As I was at the newsstand, a march of students came rumbling through. One of them had a drum and there were some older people with them. One of them handed me a flier. Just glancing at it, it said that they had taken their school due to the cancellation of scholarships by Macri, the mayor of Buenos Aires. I need to read the whole flyer to see what is really going on, but this was an interesting thing. If I got it right, these students have taken over their school in the same way the factory workers took over their factories. It's like people are demanding to be able to work and study no matter what anyone else says. Kind of incredible.

Well, anyway, once the protesters cleared, it was 1:30 and time for my lesson.

I met Marcelo in the studio and told him I wanted to lead. He started me off with the 8-count basic. Only his way of counting was different from every other teacher I've ever had. For him my 2 was 1, and my 3 was 2, etc. It was very confusing. He also followed a certain rhythm that I was not used to - it was kind of like 1,2,3,4 and 5,6 and 7, 8, or something like that. I kept getting messed up with the rhythm. But not only that. The hold, leading with my torso, putting my leg out before I shifted my weight, using my arm to signal when to stop, etc., etc. It was REALLY frustrating and difficult.

He reminded me of a Spanish teacher, Antonio, that I had in Philadelphia who used an audio-lingual method that was developed for the CIA or something like that (I think it was the FSA, whatever that was). The belief was that mistakes needed to be corrected immediately, so that they would not become permanent. Every time I made a mistake he corrected me - immediately. This is one of the reasons why I have a hard time becoming fluent in Spanish. I was so traumatized by this constant correction that I am afraid to put more than three words together (I'm kind of exaggerating here).

Well, Marcelo was like Antonio. Each time I messed up, he would stop and correct me and then explain why it was wrong and sometimes lead me to show me how I should have done it. The thing was that I often knew I messed up and I knew why, it was just that the steps and the rhythm had not gotten into my muscle memory yet and I just needed to keep repeating it. It didn't help me to have him explain what the problem was because that was speaking to my mind. It didn't help me to have him show me as a follower (with him leading) because I was doing the opposite of what I needed to do. I just needed to do the steps again and again and get it internalized.

Well, that didn't happen.

But, we moved on. He added a few more steps - ochos, and some kind of quick forward, back and cross step thing (I think it has a name). And then we moved on to milonga, which is faster and has a more even rhythm. Milonga was actually easier because each step was on 1 beat and I didn't have to worry about half beats or anything like that.

After a few attempts at me leading him, I knew our time was almost up, I asked him to lead me. I thought it would be good to feel all of this as a follower, and also I wanted to feel like I had danced. One of the things I love the most about lessons with Marcelo is when we actually dance. Because he repeats the same steps, I really begin to feel like I am dancing. And so we did.

We danced two milongas and then he put on a Valz. Valz, is tango to a waltz rhythm. I love Valz most of all (as a follower). It is very Jane Austin, and I think very romantic. The music is beautiful.

Here is another You Tube video, this time of a Vals. (it has different spellings, Vals, Valz or Waltz). This is a home shot video of a couple at a milonga. I like that is just a regular guy (well, sort of) and not some competition or show. Beautiful. I'm not quite there yet.

Por Que Mierda 2...

I took a walk this afternoon because it was a beautiful day. I wanted to walk and find some of the big mansions in Palermo Chico, which I guessed was not too far from where I am living because I saw some places I recognized coming back from Jumbo in the taxi yesterday.

I eventually made my way to Avenida Libertador, which though it is a busy street, was actually nice to walk on. Since it was very wide and the sidewalks were wide, I wasn't playing pedestrian obstacle course and didn't have to breathe too much of the exhaust fumes.

I stopped at Volta and had some ice cream (#2 for this week) and then continued on.

First I came to this street sign that said Avenida John Fitzgerald Kennedy. I thought it was unusual that they had a street named after Kennedy and also that they spelled out his middle name. I imagined Argentines trying to pronounce the whole thing - quite a mouthful.

I could see a big mansion behind the sign and thought I was approaching the area I wanted to walk around in, but as I passed the mansion and looked up (there was a guard standing at the gate) I saw an American flag flying. The flag was actually blowing in the wind and I wanted to get a picture, but as I pointed my camera up, the wind stopped and the flag fell, so I didn't take a picture. I walked a little passed this building, which I assumed was the US Embassy and saw that there were no other big mansions, only lots of apartment buildings, and decided to turn around. I pointed my camera up at the building even though the flag wasn't flying just so I could have a picture to show everyone how regally our ambassador to Argentina lives, and I heard this shrill whistle.

There was a car behind me that had just let someone out and I thought maybe I was in his way, so I turned around only to realize that the whistle was coming from in front of me. I turned and saw the guard wagging his finger at me and saying something.

I knew what he was saying, but pretended I didn't and said, "como?" (what?)

He told me I was not allowed to take photos.

And I said, "por que mierda?"

Well, I didn't actually say that, but I wish I had. Damn!

I asked him why I couldn't take photos. He seemed a bit surprised that I would ask that question and even smiled a little. He told me it was the residence of the US Ambassador. I told him I was American. He said the people who lived there didn't want people taking pictures of their house.

I wish I had responded that my tax dollars are paying for their house, but I was too pissed.

I decided it would be better to just say thank you and walk away.

Por que mierda...?

Yesterday, one of the expressions Juliana taught me from the m1cest video on Glams, Chetos and Floggers was "Por que mierda...?" - literally, it means "Why the shit...?", but I think it is more equivalent to "Why the hell, or why the you know what...?" in English. I made a question "Por que mierda nadie tiene cambio?" - "Why the shit doesn't anybody have change?", and then Juliana told me a story. Change is a good topic to get people going, and not Obama kind of change, but change for something like a 5 peso bill. It seems that no matter what you buy and no matter how much you give them, nobody has change. Actually, it is a little better than what I remember from last year, but I have been hoarding small bills.

Anyway, I don't know why I thought about that expression or why I started my blog off with it. I do like it though and am going to try to use it.

After the gym this morning I headed over towards Corrientes to meet Marcelo for my tango lesson. I went to La Continental, one of my favorite pizza/empanada places for a few slices of anchovy pizza and a salad. I like the salads because you get to choose the ingredients. You have to choose a minimum of 4. I ordered a salad with radicchio, carrots, beets and olives. I got two slices of anchovy pizza, which comes without cheese and with one anchovy and a green olive and lots of sauce. The crust is cruncy and the pizza is springy and doughy. It's good.

When my salad came I started to mix it and saw that there was no radicchio, but there seemed to be an inordinate amount of carrots. I called the waitress over and told her I ordered radicchio, but it seemed that there was none. I then added that there seemed to be a double order of carrots. She asked if I wanted her to add some radicchio. I said no, but it looks like there are a lot of carrots. She asked if I wanted her to take out some carrots, and I said, no I was just letting her know. I don't know what I wanted her to do, but I think I just wanted an acknowledgement that I had ordered radicchio and didn't get it and that it was strange that I got so many carrots. I thought I was going to turn orange!

She walked away and I sat and ate my lunch, thinking, "why the shit did I get so many carrots?" I was watching people coming and going. I could see the area where people stand. At some places like this, you can get pizza or an empanada and stand to eat it. It is cheaper than if you sit down. I saw a woman come in and get her pizza and a pepsi, and then go over to a counter and put all of her stuff underneath the counter where there was a little shelf. She had several bags and a purse.

I saw a young guy come in and go up to the register. He had what looked like a 5 peso note.

Then I got lost thinking about why the shit I had so many carrots in my salad.

When I came back to earth, I saw a woman go over to the woman who had put her bags under the counter and point to the door. Then the woman with the bags, who had a bright red shag haircut, looked under the counter and saw that her purse was missing. She stopped for a minute in shock and then started to cry. Her crying got louder and louder until everyone in the restaurant could hear her. We were all in shock.

With so many people sitting and standing around and all of us with a view of this woman, no one except this one other woman had seen what happened, and for some reason, the woman who saw what happened, was very slow in reacting. Perhaps for her it was also an odd thing that took time to register.

I think it was the guy who was trying to get change for his 5 peso note.

The poor woman continued sobbing and one of the waiters went outside and flagged down a police officer who was right outside (a lot of good he did). He came in, got a description of something (maybe the purse) and went outside. A little later he came back and shook his head. Nothing.

Yesterday I was in another restaurant and a woman came in and sat next to me and ordred a coffee and medialunas. She has a lot of bags with her and a purse, that she put on the seat next to her. Directly in front of me were two conchettas who both had purses next to them.

I was thinking of how amazing it is that women can keep track of their purses.

Today proved that that is not always the case. I think purses are especially dangerous, because unlike pants pockets, you can fit a lot more things in a purse. I imagine in addition to her wallet, money, credit cards, make-up and all of that stuff, she also had her house keys, maybe car keys, cell phone, and who knows what else. The guy who took it made out like a bandit.

After that I felt the mood in the restaurant turn very somber. It was like we were all in shock. I wanted to give the woman some money to try to make it better, but though that would be strange (she didn't look like she was poor, but she had obviously lost some important things). I wanted to go outside and see if I could find the guy, but I doubted he would be standing on the corner looking through the purse. He probably scooted down into the subway or into a doorway or something as soon as he left the restaurant.

It was a good reminder to be careful and pay attention. I am always aware of where my bag is (when I have a bag) and I keep my wallet in my front pocket and my cell phone as well. I also don't carry a lot of cash, and don't carry a credit card if I am not going to be using it (or I try not to).

This is a big city and like any big city, there are people who are going to take advantage of convenient situations. I'm sure that counter at La Continental is a very convenient situation for thieves, as are sidewalk cafes, or anywhere else where people put their bags in a place where they may not be paying attention to them.

I finally had to get out of the restaurant as I could not finish the rest of my carrots and I felt traumatized by the powerlessness of the situation for all of us there. In a way we were all victims of that crime, though the woman who lost her purse is going to be thinking about it a lot longer than the rest of us.

Ah Mira Vos!

Yesterday I went to Club Creativo to get my hair cut. Club Creativo is the salon that Ralf and Tomas recommend on the BA4U Apartments website. I went there last year and got a good haircut for very little money (I thought it was something like 33 pesos).

I walked down and just went in and told them I didn't have an appointment. They were not busy, so the woman wrote my name on a ticket and had me sit down. No sooner did I sit down when someone came, got the ticket and came up and introduced himself. His name was Gustavo. He took me in the back to shampoo my hair.

Gustavo was really nice. He asked me right off the bat if I was from here - I think he said something like, 'you're not from here are you?' He then asked what I was doing here, and each time I told him something he'd say, "ah, mira vos" (oh, look at you!)

I love that expression. My teacher Claudia used to say it last year. Every time someone asked a question, she would say, "ah, mira vos que interesante esta pregunta" (oh, look at you and this interesting question) - I thought it was so cute, but didn't realize it was an expression that other people use, because I've only heard Claudia use it.

Anyway, I enjoyed speaking to Gustavo and felt really comfortable using Spanish with him. Lesson? If people are open to talking, then I feel comfortable doing it. I wish Gustavo was the one who cut my hair.

He took me out and sat me down in a chair next to a guy who was busy making sure his shirt was tucked into his pants just right in the front, but hanging out on the sides and in the back. His name was Uriel. But I didn't know that because he didn't introduce himself. When his shirt was arranged properly, he asked me what we were going to do.

I don't have much hair in general, and my hair was short, but it was starting to get bushy. I just wanted it shaped up, but didn't know how to say that, so I told him I wanted it short, but still a little long on top. I know that Argentine guys don't wear their hair as short as mine was (or is) and I like the fact that guys have hair here, but I also have to face the reality that I don't have that much hair and I don't want to go through the awkward stages of growing what I have out.

Uriel told me he would cut the sides and back and leave some on the top so that I could wear it kind of messy (I'm not sure if that is the word he used, but I got that I would be able to make the top kind of spiky like I wanted).

He gave me a good haircut. Using mostly scissors, he cut my hair very short. There were little hairs all over the place. It's amazing how much he cut. A barber would have done the same thing with shears, and maybe gotten the same result, but this guy was really paying attention to every single hair. The only problem was he seemed kind of grumpy. He didn't like to talk, so a good hour where I could have had some conversation practice was wasted. Oh well.

My haircut cost me 65 pesos, a little over 20 dollars. I think I was charged for the shampoo and maybe also for the coffee. Not a bad deal since a similar haircut in a salon in SF would run me 65 dollars.

After I left the salon I walked over to Santa Fe to look at a black scarf I saw in the window of a shop. I decided I wanted it, but when I went back to find it I couldn't find the shop. Yesterday I decided to try again.

I found the shop and went in. The clerk had been outside sweeping the sidewalk and he came in and asked if he could help me. I told him I was looking for a scarf and pointed to the scarf I was wearing, but told him I wasn't sure the word they used here, because I learned "bufanda". He said they call it a "chaline", but said bufanda or pashmina are also the same thing (I don't think pashmina is the same).

He showed me the scarf I was interested in, but then next to it was a black scarf with white and red stripes. It was really nice. After thinking about them a bit, I bought the striped one. It was a little expensive considering it is from India and probably only cost a few cents there.

The clerk also asked me where I was from and what I was doing in Buenos Aires. When I told him he said, "ah, mira vos". I was beginning to get the impression that this expression was more common than I thought.

In the afternoon I had my lesson with Juliana. She is terrific. I sent her the m1cest video I found on You Tube on Chetos, Floggers and Glams and she prepared some vocabulary and questions that she e-mailed to me. I was unable to print it out though. We chatted a bit and then she gave me some articles on related topics for next week. It was a good class. We talked about discrimination and other related topics and I learned a little about how blacks were eliminated from Argentina in order to make the country "white". One of the articles she gave me addresses that topic and she also recommended a book for me to read.

After my lesson I decided to see if I could find Jumbo, and I did. I was able to see the big mosque in daylight and took a picture (above). Jumbo was not as crowded as I thought and even though it was rush hour it wasn't that difficult to return home by taxi.

I made a green curry with a package of mixed seafood I got at Disco, but the seafood was really fishy. There was something in the mix that was way too fishy and I didn't enjoy it at all. Now I have to try to find the other seafood mix that I used when I cooked dinner for Hernan.

All in all, it was a good day. I had some good interactions with people and I am beginning to find my internal talk now is in Spanish. When I am walking I practice conversations in my head in Spanish and when I feel comfortable I am finding it easier to communicate.

Today I have a tango lesson with Marcelo. I'm going to the gym in the morning and this evening I am not sure what I will do, but I might try going to the movies. I have to get up early tomorrow for Arabic class.

The Take

Here is a segment from a film by Naomi Klein called "The Take". It is about the events that led up to the peso crash of 2001, but also what happened afterwards. Groups of workers took over their factories that were abandoned by the bosses and just left to rot. The quality of the video on You Tube is not great, so I recommend buying or renting the film. Naomi Klein is awesome. If you don't know about her, check out her other work, including the Shock Doctrine. What I have learned is that Argentina is a great place for me to learn about how the system works - what privitization and neoliberalism mean, what happens when the middle class is screwed, how we are manipulated and lied to, how a government can abuse its power, etc.... I learned more about the United States by being here for 2 months than I did in my 48 years of living there.

Conversation Exchange Partner Number 3

There is a cute little empanada joint across the street from my building. There is a cute little elderly couple that works there and when you order empanadas to go the woman wraps them up like little Christmas presents. After I got home from my conversation exchange last night I was too tired to even think about dinner, so I ate empanadas and drank wine and fell asleep on the sofa watching Bill Clinton at the Democratic Convention.

My conversation exchange was good. My partner number 3's name is Raul. Leo is another one I might meet next week. Raul is 40 years old and teaches English here. He was one of the best exchanges so far. I think we evenly split our time between English and Spanish. First we spoke Spanish for a while and then I suggested we switch to English and then we alternated between the two. He actually spoke a lot of Spanish to me, which I thought was great. Unlike my other partners, I don't think he feels totally confident speaking English, or else, he was thinking about the fact that I needed to speak Spanish. Either way, it worked for me.

We spoke about a lot of things, some getting to know you kind of stuff and then we moved on to more interesting and varied topics. He asked me about some US cultural things, like if you can use the word "black" to refer to Black people, and I asked him about, of course, conchettas. According to Luis, there is no difference between conchetta and cheta. He also explained that the word comes from a certain female body part - 'la concha' (concha is a shell, so if you aren't familiar with the word, you can try to figure it out). He also added that conchettas don't work and spend their husband's money (a little sexist?) - the women we saw at the Alvear Palace Hotel were definitely conchetta!

Some interesting things I learned from Raul.

He told me that British English is dominant here, and he is one of the few teachers who teaches American English. He said the textbooks, tapes, dictionaries, etc., are all British English. When he did his teacher training and had to take exams, his answers were marked wrong if he used American English.

The other thing he talked about, reluctantly, was the peso crash of 2001. He said he lost 15,000 US Dollars that he had in the bank. He was saving for a trip to the US so he could take a course in English. He said despite his best efforts, even trying to sue the bank, he was not able to get his money back. He told me that now he does not keep his money in the bank. Most people either keep it at home, spend it, invest it in real estate, or a new trend is that people go to Uruguay and open bank accounts there. I often wonder if our system could fail like the Argentine system did. We actually experienced this on smaller scales with Enron stealing all of California's budget surplus and Halliburton stealing all of our federal surplus. What is different is that unlike Argentinos who were out in the streets banging pots and pans, Americans just change the channel on their TVs and go back to being unconscious about what is happening. In the end though, I think everyone gets screwed equally. Raul told me that there were a lot of people who committed suicide after the peso crash because they lost their life savings, and there were others who died because they were saving up for medical operations. I don't know the full extent of the damage, and I guess I never will because it is a trauma that people are reluctant to talk about. I wonder if this is one of the reasons why Buenos Aires has the highest number of psychoanalysts per capita in the world! There seems to be a lot of trauma inflicted on the people here, and it seems like it is not going to stop (rising gas prices, food prices, farm protests, crime, etc...)

I'm enjoying these conversation exchanges. It is amazing the responses I am geting to my ad. I have a few more partners I have still not met. Leo, is a theater teacher who is in my neighborhood, and I am looking forward to meeting him because he said he doesn't speak a lot of Spanish. And one other guy, Javier, wrote me. He is a personal trainer, but I don't know what part of the city he lives in. It might be hard for us to meet.

I didn't like having go walk all the way over to Once to meet Raul, but once I met him I realized it was worth it. So on Wednesdays, I'll get a lot of exercise walking to and from school in the morning and walking to and from meeting Raul in the evening. In total, that's about 90 minutes of walking. I think I can justify having six empanadas and two glasses of wine for dinner!

Mi Piace!

It's raining. I didn't know it was supposed to rain today and had to walk home from school without an umbrella. My head was wet, but thanks to lots of buildings with overhangs, I was able to dodge a lot of the rain. Now that I'm in, I hope it will rain hard and clean off the sidewalks a little.

Today was my first day of Italian class. I couldn't sleep well last night, I think because of the mate I drank with Hernan. He said mate doesn't have the same effect as coffee, but he drinks coffee at 10 p.m., so for him I think nothing has any effect. Mate does not have caffeine, it has mateina. It is still a stimulant, and I think I will not be drinking it during the mate hour anymore, especially when I have a 9 a.m. class.

I got up at 7:30, and got out of here at 8:30. I thought my class started at 9:30, but since I found out I could retreive my student records online using my id number, I went and checked the room number for my class and saw that it started at 9. Good thing I checked. I was hoping it was a mistake and I'd have time to go the bar (cafeteria) for a coffee before class, but when I got to school and checked, it did indeed start at 9.

It was interesting walking to school so early (well, 8:30 is not that early). I thought the streets would be crazy like the evening rush hour, but aside from a few people walking their dogs and some guys who had started working in the garment district of Once where my school is, there wasn't a whole lot of activity. It was a warm, humid morning and it was nice being out early and seeing what it was like. I think I am going to enjoy Spring, and I think I am going to enjoy walking to school in the morning.

My Italian class was great. The teacher's name is Blas, and he is about 30 years old (I think he said he is 31). He is Argentine, but lived for 2 years in Rome and has studied Italian for several years I guess. His Italian seems pretty fluent. He did several things in the class that I loved! I feel like I finally found a language class where the teacher has a similar philosophy about language learning.

First thing he did was start speaking Italian right away. Some of the students freaked a little, but really, Italian is so much like Spanish, I think it should be easy for them to make the adjustment. He then had us go around the room and introduce ourselves. Nice! My arabic teacher did this during the break when half the students weren't there. This was a great way to start off the class. I've always thought it was boring for my students when I do this, but as a student, it was great for me to hear a little about my classmates, and also let them know a little about me.

The first thing we did was a song. I couldn't believe that he was starting with a song on the first day, but it was a great exercise. He had us fill in the missing articles il/un, la/una - definite or indefinite, masculine or feminine. Even though there were some words in the song that students didn't know, it was a great exercise for us to start right away with italian and to begin making hypotheses about how to use these articles. It was so much better than explaining it to us abstractly and then having us try the exercise.

I remember one of my students in level 1 who was an elderly man who was a Spanish teacher in Mexico. He was very traditional and his approach to education was also very traditional. One time he said to me in Spanish, something like, "there are two approaches to education, inductive and deductive - your class is ____" I can't remember if my method is deductive or not, but I think it is. He wanted the other method. He wanted me to explain everything to them rather than have them figure things out. I like figuring things out. I feel like the information sticks better that way. So I was really happy with this song exercise. We made guesses about when we would use the definite or indefinite article, and the masculine/feminine part was fairly easy because it is similar to Spanish.

After that, we listened to the song and checked. Again, a really good exercise. We had a clear focus and it was a little difficult to hear the article sometimes, so he repeated the song and even certain lines so we could hear it.

After the break, one of the students asked him how much something was and he said 10 centavos. Everyone started going up and putting 10 centavos on his desk. I asked my neighbor what we had to pay for and she told me we had to pay for the copy. I realized how lucky I am as a teacher to have access to a copy machine and pretty much unlimited copies (of course there is a limit). Here this guy had to make copies on his own money and was being reimbursed by the students.

After we finished with the song we started with the book which is pretty much a communicative approach. It starts right off with conversations and introduces the grammar little by little in context. There are lots of practice exercises and he had us working in groups again with the stuff in the book.

It was a really fun class. Level of difficulty? 1. It is super easy (it's my third time taking Italian 1), but, the challenging part is trying to relax and undertand the Italian the teacher uses. Some of the students speak Spanish in class, but Blas really encourages everyone to try to communicate in Italian.

There are about 20 students, mixed ages and levels (some, like me, speak some Italian). It's a nice group.

One interesting thing I found out is that some people have Italian passports because their ancestors are Italian. I want to find out if I can get an Italian passport.

As I was leaving, after I ate lunch across the street, I ran into my teacher from last year, Marcella. It was great seeing her and I sat and spoke to her a little while she ate lunch.

I came home to a clean apartment (Norma came this morning), and I'm now drinking a nice cup of tea and listening to Gotan Project. I might go to the gym later and then this evening I am meeting another conversation partner.


At some point I am going to have to weed out these conversation partners because I can't meet with all of them, but I am hoping to find some good connections. I like Mario because he lives nearby and can come here. Luis is pretty much written off. This guy today (I think his name is Leo) seems like he speaks a lot of English and I have to go back over to Once to meet him, so those are two disadvantages. But one guy I am going to meet next week wrote and said he doesn't speak a lot of English. He lives very near, and sounds like he is perfect!

Things are really starting to take off and I am beginning to feel busy, but I still can come home and take naps, drink tea and relax during the day. I'm being careful not to plan too much for one day - I just don't have the energy to do that.

Today is a perfect day to crawl back into bed, so I think that's what I'm going to do!

A Nice Custom

I settled in on my sofa to watch one of my favorite programs - it is called Policias en Accion. It's kind of like Cops except they don't play "bad boy bad boy watcha gonna do, watcha gonna do when they come for you???" and it's a little less exploitive, though it does still kind of exploit people, especially the poor. What I like about it though is that they have subtitles in Spanish (I guess they are captions). I'm not sure why, but my guess is that a lot of the places they film are outside of Buenos Aires and the portenos (BsAS residents) "can't understand" the way other people speak, but who knows the real reason for the subtitles, fact is, they work for me. Tonight they had an interesting segment on a parrilla (place where they grill meat) out on some highway or something. Lots of truckers stop there. There were some interesting characters, including one very fat guy who took off his shirt and did a little song and dance. Then they had this police call where an old woman called the police because her son locked her in the house. He claimed she had alzheimers. She claimed he was crazy. While she was talking to the police, the son pulled down the shutters (all windows here have metal shutters, most which come down from a rope inside the window) and locked the window. It was insane. There were lots of other crazy people but I get to hear Spanish and see interesting situations, and I learn a little bit about life beyond my safe, cheto little neighborhood.

Anyway Hernan called and asked if I had mate. He then said he would come over for mate. I straightened up, boiled the water and put it in the thermos and got the mate ready. We drank a few rounds of mate, talked a little, watched a little tango video, listened to music, watched the beginning of Austin Powers and then he left. I'd say it was about a 2 hour visit. It was perfect, and a really nice custom.

I know that the time he came over was the coffee hour, kind of after work but well before dinner. Now I know why people stay up so late. Mario told me if you go to bed before midnight, people think there is something wrong.

After Hernan left I listened to a little of a new (but old) Gotan Project CD I bought. I really like the Gotan Project. It is electronic tango, but it is very beautiful. I love this CD. Here is a video I found on You Tube of one of their songs that I really like. I didn't realize until I watched the video, that the song, called Queremos Paz (we want peace) is about the riots and protests that happened after the devaluation of the peso in December 2001. People's life savings disappeared and suddenly they found that the money they had was not worth anything. The video is incredible.

I Milonga Way From Home...

I thought I'd try to be funny with the title today to lighten the mood.

Today I went to my 2nd tango class. It was Tango Milonguero - Milonga style tango - with Jorge Firpo. I realized I need to start listing the names of teachers and classes and all that for my sabbatical report. Yesterday, by the way, the teacher was Angel Coria and it was just "Tango".

Milonga is a slightly new form of tango that grew up in Buenos Aires in maybe the 40's and 50's. Jorge explained to us today that this style of tango developed because the dance halls were smaller in that era, and people had to find a way to adapt to smaller spaces and more people. Milonga is characterized by small, quick steps and less fancy footwork, but more attention to the rythm of the music in kind of a 1-2-1-2-1-2 beat with some half steps to speed things up or slower steps to draw things out (all according to the music of course). I like Milonga because it is lively and in some ways less complicated that the older form of tango - there are fewer possible steps, so it's really just about moving to the music.

So anyway, I did go back and try again. Today I went to the center of the Escuela Argentina de Tango on Rodriquez Pena, in the same building as my gym. The school was downstairs in a small space that is also a theater. There was a small stage and then an area that normally has chairs for the audience, but that was our dance floor. I liked it that it was kind of funky, old and theatrical. I'll have to take a picture at some point.

The teacher, Jorge, was a little better for me than Angel was yesterday. I think Angel is a good teacher, but honestly, with these classes listed as being for beginner-intermediate-advanced, I can't imagine someone who has never taken a tango class being able to follow any of it.

Difficulty level today, 1-10, was about 950, but I persisted and got through the whole class, thanks, mostly to the kindness of the other students.

The woman who gave me "the look" yesterday was there. We ignored each other. I found out her name is Vicky and she is from Paraguay.

There were a lot of international students in the class, I think because an international tango conference just finished. I missed it and only found out yesterday that it was in the old Harrod's building on Florida Street. It would have been fun to check it out, just to be able to go into Harrod's.

Anyway, Jorge did some things that I liked. First of all, he learned my name, and referred to me several times as Ricardo de los Estados Unidos - mostly to point out what people should not do! But hey, at least I felt like I was a person. And his pointing out my mistakes actually helped me and he also praised me a few times.

He also did some connection exercises. One he did that I liked was using a bamboo stick. The guys had to hold the stick across their chest and then the women grabbed the stick inside of the man's hands and leaned forward. We had to find equilibrium and balance on the stick and then do some simple steps. We did a lot with connection, the embrace and just basic stuff, which was really good for me.

Then he showed us a little pattern that was difficult, but not impossible. Since I haven't danced a lot of milonga (I did with my teacher, Marcelo, but he is a great leader and with him I don't have to think), I was a little lost. One woman from Italy who was my initial partner, kept returning to dance with me, which made me feel good, because I thought after someone danced with me one time they would never want to return. She was a good partner because she has not been dancing tango a lot and we were both struggling, but also patient with each other and kind of getting it little by little.

Next I danced with an Argentine woman who was really lovely. She was very supportive and helpful. It was her first Milonga class and we were both kind of lost. She asked someone else to show us the step and a couple volunteered to go through it several times with us. That was super helpful.

My final partner was a woman from Poland. If I didn't know she was Polish I would have thought she was Russian from her accent. She was very nice too, though maybe a little bossy, but still she helped me a lot. She kept telling me what I was doing wrong and by the end of the song I was beginning to get it.

I was so relieved when the class was over, but unlike yesterday I did not want to cry or disappear into a crack in the floor. I wanted to come back again!

I liked that the teacher knew some of the students in the class and during his "talks" he would point out certain people. It helped us to get to know each other better. I know that if I go back, he will get to know more about me and he will introduce me to the class, as he will introduce other students to me. I think it is important, since we're going to be pressing our chests up against each other!

I also liked that he focused on basics, and I loved that he talked, A LOT! The class was almost like a tango theory class in the beginning. All I kept thinking was "go ahead, talk for an hour". It was really good listening practice for me, as it was all in Spanish, and it was also interesting. I'm definitely going to take more classes with Jorge.

After class I asked the girl working the desk to recommend some classes for me that are more basic. She circled quite a few classes on my schedule and I now have many possibilities between the classes at Rodriguez Pena and Centro Borges. To use up the 12 classes on my abono in 30 days I need to go to about 3 classes per week, but if I find classes that I feel comfortable in, I might do more than that. The Rodriguez Pena classes are more convenient for me as I can go to the gym and then go to a tango class afterwards, or I can come home and take a nap and then go back for a class.

Well, it looks like this is going to work out. Between taking these classes and then my private lessons with Marcelo, I think in 5 months I will be ready to join a regular tango class at Cheryl Burke (formerly the Metronome). I had hesitated to take regular classes (i.e, straight classes) because I was focusing on following and in the straight classes I have to lead (the straight boys get a little freaked when they have to lead a guy). But I think I will be ready to begin leading and maybe continue to follow in the same-sex classes. Then when I come back here next year, I might be able to take any class, even the more difficult ones, and not feel like it's a sink or swim situation.

Right now, I am ready for my siesta.

Here's a video from You Tube with an example of Milonga style tango.

On a Scale of 1 to 10...

Ok, I will admit it - I am challenging myself here. Living in another culture and trying to speak the language is tough. Studying a brand new language in a class where my native language is not spoken is perhaps tougher. But tango....???

On a difficulty scale of 1-10, I'd say living here and speaking Spanish, is about a 6. It's challenging, but I know enough Spanish and enough strategies to communicate that I can deal with it, and it will get easier.

Studying Arabic in a class where everyone speaks Spanish seems to be about an 8 right now. It is difficult, it is challenging, but, again, if I use strategies like studying outside of class, I will be ok.

Now, tango... on a difficulty scale from 1-10 with 10 being the most difficult, I'd have to put tango at about 1,000.

I went to the Escuela Argentine de Tango today in Gallerias Pacifico, a shopping center on Florida Street, one of the main pedestrian/shopping streets in the center of the tourist district. In Gallerias Pacifico is the Borges Cultural Center, where they offer classes, workshops and shows. It's a great place to see tango performances that don't cost an arm and a leg like the dinner shows for tourists. The Escuela Argentina de Tango has a branch there and another one on Rodriguez Pena, in the same building as my gym.

I decided to go to the one in Borges Cultural Center because they offered a regular tango class at 12:30 and it fit in with my plan for the day - gym in the morning, tango class and then free time.

I found the school and waited for someone to help me. There were three guys who seemed to be working at the desk, but they were busy chatting. Finally someone came out and asked if he could help me. I told him I wanted to buy an abono. An abono is a card that is worth a certain number of classes. One class is 19 pesos (about $6), an abono for 12 classes is 210 pesos ($70). I don't know if there is much of a savings, but I figured if I got a card for 12 classes, I would go back no matter what my first experience was like. And since I said in my sabbatical proposal that I would be taking tango classes, I have to go back.

I waited around until 12:30. There were two classes going on. As students from those classes filtered out, I tried to make my way in and find which of the two classes was mine. One was milonga and one was tango. Of course I went into the wrong class, but after finding that out, I went to the other room where people had already begun to dance. The class was tango and was mixed level, supposedly beginner, intermediate and advanced. Most of the classes were listed this way.

I was super nervous.

When the song stopped, the teacher told everyone to change partners. I didn't find a partner, but just watched a little. It looked like everyone was pretty good.

When the song stopped they teacher said change partners again and a woman came up to me to dance.

I was super nervous.

I was so nervous I had a hard time remembering anything of the little I knew. The class was close embrace, which I've done a little of, but had a really hard time with. But actually, when you dance close embrace with someone who is used to it, it is not that bad - kind of nice actually. The hard part was steering my partner. I kept repeating the few steps I knew and did my best to steer my partner around obstacles, i.e., the other dancers.

We continued to change partners, and each time I continued to be super nervous.

Finally, the teacher stopped the music and showed us an exercise we were to do. The leaders to were to lead their partner using only one hand, the hand behind the back. The other hand that we use to hold our partners right hand was to be behind our back. It was a good exercise, but I was so nervous I had a hard time doing it. It would have been better if we had been given some simple steps to do because I felt like I needed to do something fancy with my partner when really the focus of the exercise was about leading with the torso (I figured that out later).

We switched partners a few times and then we did a similar exercise, but this time we had to eliminate the hand that we normally put behind our partner's back. I found this more difficult.

I was beginning to get a headache and sweat. But the fun had only just begun.

The teacher showed us this fancy little step that we were to do. It involved some quick weight changes and sacadas. Sacadas are when the leader quickly puts his foot where the followers foot wants to go and displaces the followers foot. I have a hard time doing sacadas under normal circumstances. With these other steps, it was nearly impossible for me.

With less experienced partners I felt less intimidated. There was one woman who was very sweet and really nice to dance with, and then there were a few who made me feel really uncomfortable. One gave me a look that I had a hard time interpreting when it came time to change partners, but basically let's just say that she didn't dance with me. Her look was this kind of smile, eye contact and then a walk directly past me - kind of weird. That was about the last straw for me and I decided I was in over my head.

I found an open space on the floor and tried to practice this step a little on my own. I was beginning to get it, and when it came time to change partners I got a new partner and found that I could not do it with another person attached to me. When it came time to change partners again I went back to my corner and continued to practice. I checked my watch and we still had 30 minutes left. I thought the class would never end.

Even though I had totally not mastered this little step, the teacher went ahead and added an adornment. I decided I was not even going to try to add that since I was still working on the basic. At one point, the teacher's assistant touched my shoulder and pointed to the woman who gave me the "look", to encourage me to dance with her. I just ignored him and continued to practice on my own and hope the class would be over soon.

After the little adornment, which a few people, but not all had mastered, we were shown something else. I was dying. My mouth was dry (even though I was drinking water), my head was pounding and I felt weak. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity while the teacher was showing this new variation to get my things and slip out.

I asked the guy at the desk if he could recommend some classes that were easier. He circled several classes that all look like they will fit well with my open hours. I'm going to take a look at the times and go back and try again.

I was a little rattled when I left and couldn't wait to get home and rest. As I was walking home I was thinking about how tango might be the most difficult thing I have ever done. I have never had so much fear about anything ever before as I do about dancing tango. And yet I really want to do it. I love to watch people dance, and the few experiences I have had where I felt I was dancing were magical.

One of the biggest obstacles facing me right now is my fear. But I feel that if I can push through this fear, accept that I am not perfect (yet) and just keep going back and trying again and again, I will reach a point not only where I feel comfortable dancing tango, but where I feel comfortable doing just about anything. This is good. It is good that I recognize my fear and it is good that I am in this position where I really have no choice but to push through it. I can't back out. I have a card with 11 more classes on it that expires in 30 days. I have a sabbatical proposal that said I was going to take tango classes. I have no choice but to pull out that schedule, see what times the easier classes are, and just go.

Shit! What did I get myself into?

Supermarket Sweepsteaks

I was walking past the frozen foods section in the chino and saw Barfy. I decided to buy it last night so that I could put it on my blog. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but the name cracks me up. In Japan the drunk salarymen would leave lots of barfy all over the place.

Today we have a supermarket sweepsteaks. I went to the Disco and was asked 4 supermarket questions. There was only one that I am aware of that I was not asked, and that is because it was not the Dia. So, let's see if you have been paying attention. If you can correctly interpret the following four questions, you are the winner!

1. Envio?
2. Consumidor final?
3. Disco club?
4. Una cuota?

(number4 is using different words from what I posted before, but I'll give you a hint, I was using my credit card to pay)

I couldn't believe that I was asked four questions. And the good news is that I understood them all and answered appropriately. I even handed over the tattered copy of my passport when he asked me for "documento?"

I felt like today was a test and I passed. Now let's see how well you do.

I think I'm going to go have some Barfy to celebrate!

e-mail me

Today I installed some new software on my computer and in the process updated my e-mail program. I thought that it would keep all of my settings from the old program, including messsages, contacts and all of that, but as technology likes to do, it erased everything. So, if I don't have your e-mail address memorized (why would I when you were in my contacts?) it means I don't have your e-mail address. If you are waiting for me to respond to an e-mail you sent and I don't, this is why. So, just to rebuild my address book I'm asking you to send me a short e-mail just to say hi!

First Day of Arabic Class

After waking up early and not sleeping very well, I had a quick breakfast and walked to school. I got there 20 minutes early. I stopped at the front desk and asked what room the Arabic Level 1 class was in. I forgot that people who work in registration like to make things compliacted. First the guy asked me what the course number was. I told him I didn't have that. Then another guy made me move around to the other side of the counter. I don't know why, but I think he just wanted me to move. The first guy asked me for my DNI, which is some identification number they all use. I gave him my passport number and he looked me up on the computer, and then he gave me the course number and told me to go up to the first floor (the ground floor doesn't count in buildings here as a floor, so the first floor is really the second floor) and look to find the course number. I asked him to give me the course number for Italian too so I wouldn't have to repeat the same procedure on Wednesday.

I went up to the 2nd floor where there were printouts of all of the classes with the names and numbers of the classes. It would have been very easy for me to find Arabic 1 without knowing the course number. What made it difficult was that there were so many people all crowded in front of these printouts that it was hard to get close enough to see where my class was. Finally I squeezed in and saw I was in room 304.

I went up to the third floor (really the 4th) and found my room. There were two students and the teacher was in front of the room. She greeted me with a big smile and held up her hand in a gesture for me to move in closer, she then leaned over and we kissed. Wow! What a difference it makes to start off the first day of a new class by kissing your teacher!

Little by little students drifted in until there were 13 of us. One disappeared during the break, so we ended up with 12 - a very good number for a language class - not too big, but big enough that I could fade into the background!

The class is comprised of a mix of people. Quite a few of the students, half, are of Arabic backgrounds, either Lebanese or Syrian. A few speak some Arabic already, and others want to learn so they can communicate in Arabic with their family members. The rest of the students are simply interested in Arabic, or languages, or both. They range in age from early 20's to one guy who might be by age or a little older. I'm definitely at the upper end of the age spectrum.

The teacher is Syrian. Her name is Ybtissam Chaab. She's great. Not a great teacher, but a terrific personality. She is animated, kind, patient, and all of the things a teacher should be. She was a little disorganized in her lesson, but for me the interesting thing was being immersed in Spanish as I was introduced to this completely new and foreign language.

Arabic is VERY complicated. We did a mix of things but mostly we were being introduced to the writing system. We learned 6 letters for the sounds a, b, t, z, n and i. The complicated thing is that there are symbols for these letters generically, and then different symbols for these letters when they appear at the beginning of a word, in the middle or at the end. Then when you combine them with vowel sounds, they also change slightly.

The one older guy, who is Lebanese, asks a lot of questions. Sometimes his questions were good, but sometimes he was a pain in the butt. I was getting confused trying to keep track of all of the twists and turns in the discussion, but decided to try to keep a focus on what was most essential for me, learning how to write these new letters in the variety of possiblities they presented.

The class is going to be a really good opportunity for me to speak and hear authentic Argentine Spanish. Ybtissam has been in Argentina for 28 years, so her Spanish is perfect, with a slight hint of an Arab accent. It's more apparent that she is Arab when she gets on a roll. Her gestures and intonation are still Arabic, and I love the combination of a strong Arabic presence with the Argentinian Spanish.

By the time class was finished I was exhausted, hungry and totally stupefied. I could be in a panic about this whole thing, but I decided to just try to enjoy the experience. The other students are really nice and a few people spoke to me during class and during the break. Some of them don't know I am not from here, but during the break, those of us who were in the room were talking and we all talked about why we were here. After the break when one student complimented the teacher on her Spanish, another student said I also spoke very well (Hernan should hear that).

I think the Italian class is going to be easier for me, but if the teacher and students speak as much Spanish as what I heard today, I am really going to be getting a full immersion. The Spanish today was different from what I heard in my Spanish classes last year because this was pure, unfiltered, full speed ahead native speaker Spanish.

I have my work cut out for me this week. I went to a stationary store and got some little cards to begin making flash cards of the letters, so that I can study.

I found some websites to study a little. Here is a website with a fun song for learning the arabic alphabet. Check it out by clicking here.

Las Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo

I checked the news this morning to see if there was any explanation as to why I heard firecrackers and yelling last night after I went to bed. It may have had something to do with Argentina winning a gold medal in soccer in the Olympics. It's a preview of what I have to look forward to on Christmas. Hernan told me people go crazy with fireworks and a lot of people die. Great!

Anyway, instead of finding out the cause for celebration last night I found a story about the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo - the Grandmothers. They found grandchild number 93.

This relates to the conversation I had with Luis the other day. He was born in 1977, so maybe that is why he is upset with the grandmothers for wanting to create a DNA bank - he was born withing the years of the dictatorship (1976-83) and I guess would have to be tested. Maybe he's afraid of finding out his real mother was thrown in the river after he was born.

Watching the news recently, a big story was that two old guys, Bussi and Martinez, were on trial for the disappearance of a politician somewhere in the north. Bussi got sick during the first day of trial and had to be taken to the hospital for observation. He was deemed fit to stand trial and was fitted with oxegyn. He later apologized for his part in the crimes. Martinez, his co-defendent, who was also an old man in his 80's, read a statement that was replayed over and over again on the news. In his statement he complained that Argentina is the only country in the world that tries people for defending their homeland. He said that they were at war with terrorists and he was defending his country, and now HE is the one on trial.

I discussed this with Luis, who thinks it's time for Argentinians to just forget that there was a dictatorship and that 30,000 people disappeared. I told him that this defense of defending democracy was really interesting because they seemed to have forgotten about democracy in their efforts to save it. If these people that they picked up were guilty, as Luis seems to think, then they should have been charged with crimes and tried in court, rather than kidnapped, tortured and thrown in the river or ocean, sometimes while they were still alive. This is my same argument for those who are being kept at Guantanomo and other secret detention sites in the US and elsewhere. If we are defending democracy from some unknown threat, in order to preserve it, we need to use it and not throw it to the wayside.

Luis' response was that those guys were military and that is why they did not use democratic, legal means.

So, the abuelas and the madres continue to meet in the Plaza de Mayo every Thursday to maintain visibility for their cause to find justice, to find out what happened to their children, and to find their grandchildren, who were born in capitivity, and then given away to military families and their parents thrown in the river. No matter what criticisms people throw at the mothers and grandmothers of the disappeared, they may be communists, they may be terrorists, to me they are mothers doing what mothers do, and in doing that, they are the ones who are preserving democracy through their protests and their calls for justice.

What they might ask at the supermarket....

You may be asking why there is a picture of ice cream with a title about the supermarket...

This was my 2nd ice cream today (I haven't had any at all this week).

Today is a beautiful, warm and sunny day. I saw some plum blossoms, so spring is on its way.

After I bought my tango shoes I went to a little ice cream shop I saw because it was "artesanal", which means it's home made. It was good. I had lemon champagne and cherries a la panna. I don't know what panna is, but the cherries were like maraschino cherries and that flavor was a mistake.

So, as I was walking over to my favorite but far produce shop I passed Volta. I think this is my favorite ice cream shop in Buenos Aires, and this particular one. It's a nice location and the shop is open to the street with big windows on two sides. Volta is a nice environment anyway, and this one is really nice because of the big windows. They also have tables outside, but unless you like traffic fumes with your ice cream, it's not a good idea to sit outside (maybe on the weekend or at night is better).

Since it was hot and I was doing a lot of walking, I thought I deserved another ice cream. This time I got mandarin orange and mango with orange. I liked the mandarina, but wasn't crazy about the mango. So I sort of half struck out twice today.

From there I walked to Carrefour, around the corner from the produce shop. I wanted some spices and I know my neighborhood Disco doesn't have a huge selection of spices, but thought that Carrefour, which is a French chain, would. I found paprika, cinnamon and black pepper. I am still looking for ground coriander, but I have enough now to make my favorite chicken cous cous.

From Carrefour I went around the corner to the produce market to buy chauchitas. The two friendly brothers were working today. Turns out they call the chauchitas 'chauchas'. I don't get it. Hernan said the large beans, I guess we call them broad beans, are chauchas and the smaller ones, green beans are chauchitas. And here they love to add the ito/a ending to everything. This ending is a dimuntive and makes things "small". So amigo becomes amiguito, meaning my little friend. I've had people refer to a little bag (in the supermarket), a little flask (at the hospital) and the little check (in a restaurant), but for some reason, these little beans are not itas. Also, the brothers were not as animated today, so I think I am not going to walk halfway across town to buy my produce there. I think that when I said I didn't know the word in Spanish, they were excited because they knew I was from another place. But when I asked for "chauchitas" they just thought I was a regular old guy from the neighborhood and treated me as such. I was kind of disappointed.

Now, to the supermarket questions. I am wondering if there is an infinite number of questions they can possibly ask you at the checkout counter in the supermarket. Today I heard one I have never heard before.

I paid with my credit card today. I know they ask for your document and handed her my copy of my passport with the credit card. Then she asked "un pago?" My bill was $120 pesos, about $40 US. I wasn't expecting this question. I had her repeat it and when I got it (the 2nd time) I simply said yes. She was asking me if I wanted to pay in one payment. But I kind of laughed because it seems that every time I go to the supermarket, the question is different.

The other day when I went to the Dia down the block, the cashier asked me something but I had no idea what he was asking. He asked a 2nd time and I didn't get it. Finally, he pointed to a bag and I said no because I only had 2 items and I was a block from home. When I told Luis this story, he said it was because Dia charges for bags. Last night I went to the Dia again, and I heard the question. She asked me if I was going to want a bag. I was prepared because I had my own bag. Dia doesn't have a very good selection, but I like that they are encouraging people to bring their own bag.

At Disco I have been asked several questions. "Disco Club?" is asking whether or not I have a Disco club card. "Envio?" means if I want my groceries delivered. "Consumidor final?" is asking if I am the final consumer.

I think there are probably other questions I have been asked,or will be asked, but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm tired from all of the walking and am going to take a little siesta before I cook dinner and prepare for my arabic class tomorrow morning.

a-salam-malaikum!

Gazabril

Just in case you didn't watch the video or follow any of the links, here is a photo I stole from Gazabril's fotolog. I know I am turning 49 this year, but I think I want to be a glam flogger!