Comments Re-enabled

After reading this blog yesterday of a couple who just moved here from the States, and being able to comment on their postings, I realized what a treat it is to be able to interact with people on the blog. I disable the comments last year because I started getting comment spam - just random people posting things like websites where they sell t-shirts. So, I am trying something new - moderated comments. The comments will be sent to me first for approval. If I don't like them, they won't get posted! So feel free to comment on the blog.

Up Late - tomorrow's blog entry tonight

I love this freaky photo! I think the fever fried my brain a little.

Here I am modeling my new reading glasses. They are tre chic if I do say so myself.

I've been looking in shop windows trying to find a pair of reading glasses that are affordable and not too geeky. Finally, I stopped by an optometrist next to my dry cleaners and down the street from my Disco.

The woman who worked there was so nice I want to go back and get another pair. She complemented me on my Spanish, but also she was really easy to talk to. She said she is from the interior of the country and her Spanish is easier than the people of Baires (I've learned that is how some people abbreviate Buenos Aires) - it was true - but not only was she easy to understand, she was also pleasant to talk with.

When I went back to pick up my glasses on Tuesday, I was still weak from the flu. She asked me if I'd had many tango classes yet. That was so nice of her to remember that we had discussed that. She was so much nicer than the cashiers at the Disco who are now scaring me so much I go to the chino when I can (I'm over-exaggerating a bit).

Anyway, I told this nice lady that I was looking for a pair of reading glasses that were small and not too expensive. I showed her the ones in the window I liked and she proceeded to go around the store and pick up pairs of glasses and put them down in front of me. She must have given me 15 different pairs to look at. When I saw this pair, I thought, "ew", but when I tried them on they were really comfortable. I've also learned that different kinds of glasses don't work for me, certain types pinch my nose, certain types have a tendency to have the lense pop out if I am not careful, and certain types leave a mark on my nose if I wear them too long. The best ones are those that are made from one piece of plastic. These also have flexi-frames, so if my head grows, they will too. I chose them right after I tried them on, and she said "so fast", so I tried on a few others, but each time I put these back on I was convinced they are the ones. I know they are uber stylish, maybe a bit too much, but they work for me.

Well, today was my "avoid Norma" day. I didn't want to have to sit on the sofa and talk to her, I mean, listen to her, feeling as weak as I was. So I left here around 2:30, expecting her to arrive sometime after 3.

First I went and changed some money and got a bit of a reality check. I know what the exchange rate is, but my mind is playing tricks on me with the money and convincing me that things are cheaper than they are. Today I only changed $100 and I only got $300 pesos and some change. It was a shock to see $100 dollars come back to me as these three bills that I kind of treat like dollar bills (again, over-exaggerating a bit).

From there, I went to Ataneo, which is a former opera house converted into a bookstore. It is quite fabulous. I was looking for a survival guide for expats, which I did not find.

I went to Musimundo, to see if I could find a CD for Hernan's birthday. I know it is kind of silly to buy Mr. Music a CD, but I know he likes music and I know he likes Portuguese, so I thought I'd get him a copy of a fado singer from Portugal called Mariza that I really like. They didn't have any.

Down the street I went to Un Altra Volta, which I just call Volta. It is a chocolatier and ice cream shop and they have a nice cafe in the back. I had my new reading glasses (which are very comfortable and did I say, chic?), and found a newspaper on the counter. Here was my opportunity to begin practicing the art of sitting with the same cup of coffee for three hours in a cafe.

I ordered a pot of fruit tea.

I also got a little desert made with strawberry ice cream, vanilla mouse and a little cookie on the bottom.

Now I am realizing why I am still up at almost 1 a.m. - it was that pot of fruit tea, which was caffeinated.

Anyway, I found myself doing the usual, starting to read an article, getting the gist of it, and then impatiently moving on. I knew I was not going to come anywhere near 3 hours if I did that, as the newspaper was not that big. So I went back and tried to read the whole article, thinking it was at least good for my Spanish, even if I wasn't interested.

I kept getting fidgety and wanting to leave, but the thought of running into Norma made me calm down and relax until finally I found plenty in the newspaper to keep me there for an hour.

Volta is a very pleasant place. It's quite elegant, and like most cafes here, it is very quiet. People speak in a very low volume, which I like. At about 4:00, it started to get crowded and the volume increased. I'd had enough, so I left.

It was a nice day and I was feeling ok, so I decided to try to find the supermarket I found last year that had coconut milk. I thought I knew where it was. I also thought it was a Coto, but every supermarket I found that was located between Santa Fe and Marcelo T. Alvear was a Disco. I went into all of them, but found them all to be the same. No coconut milk. I still have a project.

I headed back towards home, picking up a bunch of small white flowers for 5 pesos.

I bought some shrimp (small, cooked and frozen, not what I really wanted), oregano and crushed red pepper and proceeded to make a shrimp narinara sauce for some fresh pasta I bought yesterday. The sauce came out good, in spite of the shrimp, but the pasta was not really that good. I think it will be better next time with big, fresh shrimp, and bought, imported Italian pasta.

I've spent the evening watching some TV, and then browsing online, reading some online guides for expats, other blogs, etc., that I found, and updating my own blog. I've added pictures, changed the templates, etc.

I think I have wasted enough time and am feeling pretty tired now. My stomach is still sore, and I feel like I am running a slight fever. I canceled my Spanish class for tomorrow, but Juliana understood what I was asking for an has agreed to tailor the classes to my needs. She told me to forget about the assignment she gave me last week. Ah, that's a relief!

A quick entry before Norma arrives...

I just got this photo today from Eve. It's now my new desktop. I get to see the wonderful faces of my kooky friends and me smiling in the midst of what was a zany trip from Marcia's wedding in North Jersey, through Manhatten and back to my parent's house in South Jersey. I love this photo, we all look so cute and so happy. Soon after we took this, I practically kicked Eve out of the car at Colombus Circle (we dropped her off there), cursed drivers, cyclists and pedestrians, got lost, drove to JFK, got lost, headed back to South Jersey and got lost, only to rush home and have to wait hours for my brother to show up for our last family dinner with the food. It was an insane day and I was not my usual calm and collected self. But this wonderful photo came out of it and I love it.

I am feeling like a normal person again, almost. I had a slight fever last night and a little tummy ache, but nothing major. I took a tylenol before bed, slept fairly well (no moaning and groaning and holding my stomach), though I had some odd dreams. It is a beautiful sunny day and I have enjoyed hanging out, taking my time, trying to get some food in my stomach to see how it sits (so far it has been great), taking care of banking stuff and other minor details and just hanging out until I flee Norma.

She said she is going to be here around 3 today. I've done my best to clean up before she comes, but I refuse to put things back the way she wants to have them. Last week she moved my dish drainer off of the kitchen counter and put the dish soap and the sponge away. She rearranged lots of other things. Some things I have left, but the dish drainer, soap and sponge need to be where I want them, since I use them all so much. I can not see bending down, opening a cabinet, taking everything out, and then putting it all away again only to take it out in a few hours. We'll see what she does, but I don't want to be here to listen to her tell me how Argentines do things (she gave me a little lecture last time).

I don't know where I am going to go, but it will be good to see what it feels like for me to go out and walk around. Maybe I'll find a nice cafe and have a cup of tea or something.

I called the spa to make an appointment for this afternoon, thinking that would be a good way to escape, but they are booked. I have an appointment for Friday morning for a 3-hour treatment which includes a hot stone massage and a facial cleansing (I don't think that is the same as a facial). I think that I will be ready by then for a total pampering experience and with that will declare myself back to full health and ready to continue on with this adventure.

I also e-mailed my Spanish teacher to see if she still wants to meet tomorrow. I don't know what I will be feeling like, I will know better after going out today, but also I told her I didn't do, and didn't like the homework. I tried again to read this introduction to this book of comics by this guy Fontanarossa and got really irritated. It is written in a very long-winded literary style that irritates me because I get lost (it might be different if it were in English). I think it is too advanced for me, and not at all relevant to my daily needs. When I have problems getting what I need at the supermarket, I don't want to waste my time reading something that doesn't interest me. Yesterday I went to the supermarket and was looking for ginger. I asked the produce guy if they sold it and he pointed back to the section with wine and alcohol. Turns out I was asking for gin (ginebre vs jingebre) - they are close, and it's not something that my Spanish teacher could have really helped me avoid, unless she were right there, but it made me realize that there are a lot of names of foods that I do not know and I am very limited in what I can do.

I think Juliana will try her best to alter the lessons to fit my needs, but more than anything, it has reconfirmed my belief that language lessons need to spring from the needs of the students, if the language is for survival purposes. My Italian and Arabic teachers can have me read the Koran for all I care, I probably won't be speaking either language very much or very soon, but Spanish is something I am struggling with on a daily basis and if I am going to take the time to study it, I want those lessons to help me not have to struggle as much.

Ok, I need to start getting ready to leave. Norma will be here soon.

Midnight at the German Hospital

Yesterday seemed pretty much like it was an unordinary day. I was feeling very low energy and didn't do much. I went to a different supermarket - Coto - and looked for coconut milk so I can make Thai food for Hernan, but didn't find it. My stomach hurt while I was walking, so I didn't go much further. On the way back I bought a very ugly little bunch of basil.

Then I realized that the sugar I had picked up at the Coto ended up with the groceries of the woman behind me. I'm noticing some space issues, especially in supermarkets. No matter how much or how often I move forward, the person behind me almost always moves so that he or she is bumping me, often with the cart or basket. It's starting to irritate me.

Well, in this case, she put her groceries down before all of mine were rung up. I noticed that she had a bag of sugar with her stuff that looked just like the bag of sugar I bought, but didn't discover that it was MY bag of sugar until I got home and went to make a cup of tea. I hadn't paid for it (she ended up paying for it I guess) so it wasn't a big deal.

I went down to the Chino and bought a bag of sugar and the woman in front of me almost picked up my bag with her bags but I grabbed it and said "NO!" I was not going to allow my sugar to get away from me twice.

I dropped my clothes off at the laundry and picked them up around 7:45. The laundry is very nice, the people are friendly and it is cheaper than the place I was using last year. I brought a pretty large load and it only cost me three dollars to have it washed, dried and folded. I was happy about that.

Other than that, I found a channel on TV called "cinecanal" - movie channel, that has continuous movies, uninterrupted, and they are pretty good. First I watched a recent movie with Demi Moore that took place in England, then a movie called American Dreamz, which was a silly farce on American Idol, but was funny, light and entertaining. After that, was a movie from South Africa about a little boy who is orphaned when his parents die of AIDS (it made me cry because I felt so lucky not to have to live like those kids live on the streets of Johannesburg), and then an old movie with George Clooney and Michelle Peiffer. After I got my laundry, I settled in with a bowl of popcorn, and the movie with Uma Thurmond where she plays a loony super hero - My Ex Super Hero Girlfriend, or something like that.

Mila, my tango teacher from San Francisco called, but I had to tell her I was sick. She is in town for a bit and we are hoping to be able to get together and maybe do some classes together if not go to milongas and just enjoy the tango scene. But it all depends on how much longer this flu persists. Hernan called to check up on me, which was very sweet.

At about 10:00, I went to bed. I thought it would be good to get a good night's sleep, since I didn't sleep well the night before. As soon as I got in bed though, my stomach started to throb with incredible pain. I tried adjusting how I was lying, but nothing worked. I thought maybe it was the lying down that aggravated it, so I got up, went back to the sofa, propped myself up, covered myself with blankets and watched the end of Little Miss Sunshine.

When the movie was over, I tried coming back to bed, but the pain was worse. I didn't know what to do. I felt feverish, chills, and intense abdominal pain. I thought about going to the German Hospital, which is two blocks away, but didn't know if they were open 24-hours or what they could even do. I tossed and turned and moaned and groaned for a bit and finally sent Hernan a text - "estoy peor - que hago?" - I am worse, what can I do?

He called almost immediately and we discussed my condition. He convinced me to go to the hospital and that he would take a taxi over and accompany me to help me translate.

So, back I went to the German Hospital. This is the place I had to go last year to get my infected thumb lanced. Only now it is two blocks away, and this time, it was very late.

We spoke to the security guard/reception first and they understood about this flu, which apparently everyone has had some contact with in one way or another (well, I guess working in the hospital, they've seen it a lot). He took my information, found me in the system from last year and charged me 120 pesos - abotu $40, for the doctor's visit. It was after midnight.

We waited only a few minutes until we heard a woman's voice yell rather loudly and coarsely "Kappra?"

I was surprised to see that that voice belonged to a quite attractive young doctor. Her name was doctor Castro.

Hernan explained that he was there because I didn't speak much Spanish and he was going to help translate. I added that I speak a lot of Spanish, but sometimes I don't understand some things. She spoke to me a little and told me my Spanish was good. But then at some point she started speaking directly to Hernan as if I weren't there. I still understood most of it.

I did need Hernan though, and even he was confused by some of the running around we had to do.

The doctor said she wanted to do some tests - blood and urine - she didn't think it was anything serious (she told me to stop taking the Tamiflu), but she wanted to be sure and was concerned that it hurt when she pressed on my stomach.

We went back to the reception to pay for the tests - this time it was more expensive - $250 pesos (about $80 US). We were given instructions to go down the hall, take the elevtor down to the basement and the rest escaped me. I helped Hernan find his way downstairs, as I had been there before and remembered it. We found the lab with a frosted, closed window and there was a telephone next to the window.

Hernan picked up the phone and said we were at the lab and we needed some tests run. I would have been lost at that point, I would have not known to pick up the phone and I would have not known what to say. Eventually, a young phlebotomist came out and Hernan explained why he was there with me, and we went in for my blood test (at this point Hernan had adjusted what he was saying to something along the lines of - even though he speaks Spanish I am here to make sure he understands everything because this can be a little difficult).

He drew the blood and then Hernan asked about the urine test. I was understanding everything, so Hernan was not translating for me anymore. But when the phlebotomist asked about the "flaquito" I was confused. It took me a few minutes to register - in my mind I went through the scene, in this hospital at 1:30 a.m., urnine test, hospital, etc... and then it hit me - he was asking if we had the container for the urine - the flask. Since Argentines don't pronounce the s when it comes between vowels, it sounded like it was saying something about the little skinny one - flaquito instead of flaskito. When I got it I said to Hernan, "ah, I understand" - I then said I thought he was asking about "el flaquito" the little skinny one - me, as I rubbed my slightly bloated stomach. At least I could make jokes. I thought it was funny, but maybe I was the only one who got it.

We had to go up to the security desk and get the container. As I headed towards the bathroom, Hernan was going to follow me, I think just kind of automatically, but I told him I thought I would be able to handle that. I peed in the cup, we brought it back down to the lab and then came back to my apartment and hung out for about 45 minutes. It's a good thing I live close.

We went back to the hospital and again, the gruff voice of Doctora Castro called "Kappra?" - it kind of looked like she had been taking a nap, or else she was very sleepy. She said they didn't find anything in the tests. She took my temperature (thermometor under the arm), but I didn't have a fever. She gave me some pills - one big one and two little ones. I was to take the big one and one little one immediately, and then take the other little one in the morning.

By then I was actually feeling much better since I had taken a tylenol out of desperation when the pain was so bad that I could not sleep. I think that is why my fever was down and the pain lessened.

When I got home, I got back into my comfy bed and had a decent night's sleep, although with some crazy dreams. I feel better today (compared to last night), and hope that the problem was this flu medicine, which I imagine to be very strong.

I don't have anything to do today, other than to go and pick up my reading glasses. Otherwise I am going to lay in bed and watch Cine Canal.

My latest adventure in Buenos Aires was quite exciting. Wandering the halls of the German Hospital after midnight was something very special. I think that is enough with the hospitals through. I'm ready to have other adventures that don't involve near death scares and doctors (even though they all look like they should be on Gray's Anatomy).

Happiness

Here is a video Hernan showed me on You Tube. It's very cute. Watch it. It will make you smile.

Hernan came to visit and made a mess...

Funny Hernan. He is very entertaining for me, but he also brings out the most of my insecurities. It didn't help that he told me he was dating this guy while he was in Quebec who turned out to be the biggest pop star there. He didn't know who the guy was, but when he told people who he was dating, they couldn't believe it. Not that Hernan and I are dating or anything, but still, I'm just a lowly ESL teacher who lives a very boring, domestic life. (I say that as I begin my 5 months in Argentina).

Anyway, I went to the Disco with Hernan and we got some food for him since my stomach was not up for the original plan for dinner - beef milanesa with puree de papas - somehow a breaded and fried piece of steak with mashed potatoes didn't seem like the kind of meal my delicate stomach needed. Hernan said it was a typical Argentine Sunday meal.

Going to the Disco with Hernan was fun. He was also confused about some things there and I was able to direct him. But he had the language advantage that I don't have. I realized that when I went earlier I made a mistake by asking the guy who weighs the vegetables if I needed a price for my carrots and celery. Instead I should have asked if I needed him to weigh them. When I asked about the price, he looked confused and looked over at the shelf where the price was clearly marked and read it to me. I still wasn't sure if he had to weigh them and put a price sticker on them. He took them from me, put them on the scale and put a sticker on them, so that answered the question. When I went back with Hernan and listened as he asked about weighing something, I realized the mistake I made. Rather than ask if I needed a price, I should have asked if I needed them weighed.

The Disco has become the place that I seem to go the most, where I am speaking the most Spanish, and where I am making the most mistakes. I hope in my Spanish lesson on Thursday we will be able to clear up some of my confusion and possibly not go over the homework that I am not enjoying. Juliana gave me a book about an Argentine illustrator who died last year - Fontanarossa. I remember when he died. Everyone talked about the fact that he was a Rosarino - from Rosario. To me that means nothing. I have been trying to read it but am just not connecting with it. Instead, I want to know what to say when I am not sure if I need to get my vegetables weighed. It seems I am in the same position as last year of wanting my Spanish class to address my daily needs as opposed to some high-level literary ideals.

Well, anyway, back to Hernan.

He is now smoking cigarettes, which I don't remember him doing last year. He smoked only three or four last night, but I had to spray my bed with lavendar to get rid of the smell. I hate the smell of cigarettes. I guess my only option is to start smoking myself so I won't notice it anymore (just kidding).

He bought some creme and said he was going to make desert. I don't have a wire whisk or an electric beater, so he had to beat the cream using a small fork. There was cream flying all over the kitchen. It was in his hair, in his eyes, on the floor and all over the counter. I think he lost about half of the cream from it flying out of the bowl. It must have taken him over 30 minutes to whip it until it was stiff. He served it on top of some sweet potato desert that we got at the Disco. It was good. Very sweet. Very Argentine. And way too much work for me to even try it on my own.

Instead of frying up a breaded steak, he bought caneloni, which I knew I would not like because they were covered in this thick white sauce and filled with spinach, which seems to have the taste of dirt here. He heated them up along with some mashed squash. I heated up some of the chicken and rice soup I made earlier which was about all my stomach could handle.

When we were done, there was a huge pile of dishes in the sink. It was a major mess. Hernan told me that if I paid Norma a little extra she would do the dishes, but she is not coming until Thursday. I volunteered to clean it up because it seemed that Hernan was not going to. First I had to empty the sink of all of the trash that he threw in there. Then as I began washing dishes I found that he had put the bowl of rice that I had on the counter in the sink, so now there was rice all stuck in the drain that I had to scoop out. It was not pretty, but I felt better when it was all clean.

I kind of felt like I was obsessive compulsive because it seemed like I was following him around putting things back where they belonged. This apartment is not very big, it is sparsly decorated and the dark wood floors show every speck of dirt. I spent the night with Hernan doing things like putting the toothpaste back into the medicine cabinet, closing up the bag of coffee and putting it away, wiping up spills, etc. I definitely learned that I could never live with Hernan.

Due to my flu, Hernan spent the night on the sofa. I'm still getting sweaty at night and alternate between being hot and cold, so the covers are either getting thrown off of me or pulled up to my neck. I'm not as achy as I was, but I also seem to need to move around alot in bed. I thought it would be better for both of us if he slept on the couch. He needed a place to stay because he is returning to his apartment in San Telmo today. He didn't mind the couch.

It was fun hanging out with Hernan, as always. He is a character. He tells funny stories, listens to interesting music and has unusual taste in things like movies and art. Even though I am open to most of the things he shares with me, they are not my default tastes. I feel a little awkward with him sometimes. If we smoke or drink wine, I find that I feel even more awkward, because my Spanish skills seem to deteriorate (we're still in the English speaking phase though). It will be interesting to see what kinds of things Hernan can show me, not only about life in Argentina, the arts, etc., but also about how I see myself. I'm learning a lot already.

Flu Season

Before I left I had an appointment with my doctor to get some prescriptions refilled, and have a general check-up. I mentioned to him that last year I thought I got the flu (that's what everyone called it), and asked if I could get some kind of flu shot before I came down this year.

He told me that flu season is at the same time all around the world. Hmph! I didn't know that.

Well, turns out he was wrong. On Friday night I woke up in the middle of the night with extreme chills, a very high fever, a headache and body aches. I could not do anything to get warm, even with the big warm comfortor on my bed and the heat on. I got up and took some tylenol, but spent most of the night huddled up with my pillows which because they were absorbing my body heat acted like mini heaters. It was one of the worst nights I ever spent.

Saturday morning I drank some tea and ate some oranges. I don't really have any food in the house because there is not a lot of room to store food in the kitchen (Norma has taken up most of the cabinet space with cleaning supplies) and also I have not been able to figure out what to buy at the supermarket that I can cook. I spent most of the morning in bed.

Hernan called later in the day and while talking to him, he said he thought I had the flu. I told him my doctor said the flu season is in December. But then I remembered seeing ads on TV for flu medicines and stuff like that last year. I thought maybe my doctor could be wrong.

He had given me something called Tamilflu, which I was supposed to take at the first sign of flu symptoms. He said I would know it was the flu because it would be sudden and extreme. This was both of those. I went online and looked up flu symptoms. I found that the symptoms are fever, body aches, tiredness and very quick onset. This was the flu.

I started taking Tamilflu. The fever has broken. Now I just feel sweaty and tired. My stomach is kind of upset, but I think that might be from the medicine. I just looked up flu season in the Southern Hemisphere, and found a Wikipedia entry that says there are two flu seasons each year, one in the Northern Hemisphere and one in the Southern Hemisphere. Turns out my doctor was wrong.

Someone stole the shirt off my back...

Well, not exactly off my back, but someone took my shirt and I'm pissed.

I went to the gym this morning - first time back since I skipped out on my medical consultation. There was no problem.

I had a good workout, and spent a while on the eliptical trainer thing because the opening ceremony of the Olympics was on. I was not planning on watching it because I think China is bad, but it was on and I actually got kind of teary eyed and choked up. I don't know why. It started when I saw the Iraqis and I thought about what their lives must be like. Then the group from Sudan, and then Lebanon, and on and on it went, almost every country I saw was either presently involved in some horrible war or genocide, or political turmoil. They must have been all clustered together. Everyone looked so proud and so happy, and it was kind of moving. The Argentines were really cute, they looked the happiest of all.

Then I went and worked out for a bit and then returned to the eliptical trainer for another 15 minutes, but ended up staying on for 25 minutes because I wanted to see if the Americans were coming out. I must have missed them because the last group was China - Yao Ming was cute, but the Chinese guys who were walking behind him were kind of goofy. Are those people all athletes or are some of them just rich or lucky people who were chosen to march?

Well, anyway, then I went up to the locker room to change. At this point I was really hungry, and also sweaty. I hung my shirt on a bar so that it would dry off a little before I put it in my bag and then got changed. I stopped for lunch, had a steak and salad (steak number 2 this week), stopped at an optrician to buy a new pair of reading glasses and came home and emptied my bag and threw my gym clothes in the sink to wash them. That is when I noticed there was no shirt.

I went out to the living room to check my bag and it was not there. And then I remembered I hung it up and forgot to put it in my bag.

I rushed back to the gym, went up to the locker room and it was not there. I asked the guy in the clothing check room if anyone had turned it in and he said no (but told me I should have given it to him to hang inside the room - kind of dumb since it was only intended to be for a few minutes - I really hate "should haves" from people after something bad happens).

I looked again to see if maybe it was on a bench or something, but it was not there.

Now I am pissed and will be keeping my eye out for anyone who is wearing my shirt. I have the exact same shirt in red, so I will be able to study every detail of it and will know for sure if it is mine. I guess Argentines are not as honest as the Japanese. What really pisses me off is that anytime I find anything in the gym I always turn it in. It's kind of creepy to take someone's sweaty gym clothes and make them your own.

I think I am also in a bad mood because of this mysterious telephone caller. The first night they called I had fallen asleep watching the news and when the phone rang and woke me up I realized the news was over and there was a talk show on. Then when Hernan was here, they called and he joked that it was the doctor. Yesterday when Norma, the cleaning lady was here someone called. I asked her if it was normal for people to call and hang up like that. She said maybe it was a wrong number. It's weird though because it doesn't even seem like there is anyone on the other end.

Well, last night was the last straw. I was sound asleep and the phone rang in the middle of the night. Then it stopped and I fell back to sleep. But then it rang again and I answered it and there was no one there. It was 3:30 a.m. At that point I was unable to fall back to sleep.

Walking back from discovering that someone stole my shirt I was really pissed and getting really tired of breathing exhaust fumes, dodging traffic and breathing second hand smoke.

Maybe I am due for a bit of pampering at the spa or something. It's not good that only one week of being here and I am beginning to get cranky about the minor annoyances of life in the big city.

Mas Cintura!

A busy day today. I think I can not handle more than one thing per day.

Today I had my first tango lesson with Marcelo and my first meeting with Juliana, my Spanish teacher. Both were great, but it was overload for me.

I didn't go to the gym today, partly because I had these two other things planned, partly because I drank too much wine with Hernan last night, and partly because I'm afraid they are going to call me on missing my medical consultation. I told Hernan about that last night and he said I should just go and tell them that I knocked and no one was there. When the phone rang last night and the person on the other end hung up (something that has been happening a lot lately) - Hernan joked that it was the doctor calling to see why I missed my appointment.

Instead of going to the gym, I took my time drinking my coffee, eating breakfast and then I went shopping and got a few long sleeved t-shirts and one cute short-sleeved krinkly t-shirt.

After that I made my next in a series of attempts to find out about classes as the Escuala Argentina de Tango. I found the address, which is right next to my gym, and I now recall passing many times last year when I was walking back from school. I went in and spoke to the security guard. It was a bit confusing, because I had the right address, but there were no signs for the tango school. He informed me that they were not open yet, and that I had to enter through the same entrance as the one I use for the gym. Ok, now at least I know where it is.

I went to my favorite pizzeria, La Continental, on Callao Avenue and Peron - two blocks from my language school, and two blocks from where I was supposed to meet Marcelo for my tango lesson. I like this pizzeria because they have a good selection of things you can get in your salad. I've been having salad with radicchio, beets, carrots and olives. Today I had that salad along with two beef empanadas.

The empanadas are so good. The combination of flaky crust and rich beef with other things like olives and hard boiled egg is really yummy. It was a good lunch.

Then I walked over to Corrientes where I was supposed to meet Marcelo. I stopped in the subte and bought a subway card with 30 rides on it so that after class I would be able to hop on the subway and not have to wait in line. I only had 30 minutes after my tango class to get to Palermo to meet Juliana, and I knew it was going to be tight.

My tango lesson was in a new location. It was not in Marcelo's apartment like before, but instead in a big old building on the corner of Callao and Corrientes. The stairway was incredible - reminded me of Iguazu Falls with all of these different stairs coming together at one point. I was sorry I had decided to leave my camera at home.

I got to the studio, not really sure if I was in the right building, and an old woman let me in. Marcelo was not there. The woman seemed confused. Another couple arrived, and the old woman asked me who I was looking for. I told her I had a lesson with Marcelo. She pointed to the guy and asked if he was Marcelo. He said no he was Alberto, but he was a tango teacher. I said, I was waiting for Marcelo.

Alberto and his student went into one of the rooms and started their lesson. The old woman sat behind the desk and stared at the wall. I played with my cell phone. Finally, at 10 after 1, I called Marcelo, and he said there was a problem with the subte and he was on his way. He buzzed and the old woman jumped in her seat. I guess she does that a lot, since her job seemed to be to buzz people in.

The class was great, really hard, but great. I love dancing with Marcelo. He is a very strong, confident lead. He repeats the same steps over and over again, leading me to the cross, forward and back ochos, and a kind of half molinete (this side stepping wheely kind of move). Because he does the same steps, he really focuses on technique and really worked on me getting my balance correct. I tend to either lean too forward, onto my leader, or lean back too much. Both leans throw me off balance. He worked on balance as well as my ochos (they are a figure eight step). He didn't tell me "mas pivot" today, but instead kept repeating, "mas cintura" - more waist - essentially the same. It is amazing the control he has over his legs and how he can step backwards, pivot and do all of this stuff that is so difficult for me and make it look easy. I was sweating and exhausted after 50 minutes, and fortunately someone else wanted to use the studio, so we stopped exactly at 2. We have another lesson set for Saturday.

From there I was planning on taking the B line to Palermo and taking a cab from Malabia station, like Hernan suggested. But Marcelo told me the B line was not running and I should walk 4 blocks to Cordoba and take the D line. I did that, which was a good idea. The D line is very near where I live, and it was good to know that I can use it to go to Palermo. I could see on the map in the train that there was a station that stopped at Thames, where I was suppposed to meet Juliana. The only problem is that once I got to Thames I had to walk about 8 blocks before I got to the cafe where she was waiting for me.

I debated about taking a cab or stopping to text her and let her know I was on my way, but instead I just walked as fast as I could and got there 10 minutes late.

We met in a nice cafe/bookstore, where I met her last year with Larry. She is really great, and we spent over an hour chatting, catching up, and eventually discussing what we were going to do in our lessons. She did an inventory of my interests and needs and gave me a book to start reading for next week.

From there I headed home. I spoke to a potential conversation exchange partner on the way who wanted to meet me today but I was too tired, so we have plans to meet tomorrow. I was looking forward to getting home and jumping in my gigantic bed with the sun streaming in the bedroom.

I got home and saw a sweater on the counter in my kitchen and some cleaning supplies. I realized that the cleaning woman was here. Ralf had told me she liked to talk. I came into the bedroom and met her - Norma - a woman, maybe my age or a bit younger who lives around the block and takes care of this apartment and two others that Ralf and Tomas manage.

She was very nice, and she DID like to talk. She had also moved all of the things I had placed where I wanted. I had my jacket hung on this thing in the bedroom that is for hanging jackets. She put it in the closet. I had a dish rack on the counter in the kitchen. She put that away. She put things where she thought they should go and I know I will be spending the next few days trying to find things that she put away, so that next week when she comes back she will be able to return them where she put them. I've already decided I'm going to be out when she comes. Even though she was nice and I enjoyed talking with her, I don't like to be around when any cleaning person is trying to clean. I feel like I am in the way - and also if I am not here, she can not tell me where I am supposed to put things.

After she left I relaxed a bit and then went to the Disco to buy something for dinner. But I was so hungry I decided not to cook but instead to look for a restaurant. I stopped in an Italian restaurant on Arenales, a few blocks from here and got a glass of wine, an empanada and penne putanesca (after struggling with the menu because I didn't have my glasses and the first menu they gave me was the lunch menu). The penne had to be the worst I have ever had. I thought I liked putanesca sauce, but this was like some fishy Japanese thing with some sort of tomatoey goo. It was not good. I was glad I ate the empanda and the bread that came before.

I guess I should also mention that it was 7:30, late for me to be eating dinner, and the restaurant was filled with women having coffee and chatting. No one was eating dinner. When I left at 8, they were just putting the dinner menu outside. I think it is crazy that they do not eat dinner until 10, 11, or 12, and they eat big, heavy dinners to boot. As much as I will try to be flexible and do as portenos do, I am not going to eat dinner after 8 if I can help it.

Remnants of the Past

I am fascinated by the so-called "dirty war" - the last dictatorship in Argentina that took place beginning with a coup in 1976 and lasted until 1983, about the same time that Pinochet ruled in Chile, and other dictatorships reigned havoc in Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay and elsewhere (many supported by US taxpayer dollars). In Argentina, 30,000 people were disappeared. Taken from their homes, workplaces, or simply grabbed on the street, brought to secret (or not so secret) detention centers, tortured, and their bodies disposed of after they died (or while they were still alive), often in the ocean or Rio de La Plata. It represents for me, one of the dark sides of hunamity that I struggle to understand. How can humans be so cruel, so driven by ideology or greed, or whatever drives them to inflict pain and suffering directly on another human being like that.

In Argentina, there continue to be reminders of that horrible time. Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo, the mothers of the disappeared, continue to make an appearance in the Plaza de Mayo every Thursday at 3:30. Wearing white scarves on their head, they assemble as they did during the dictatorship when protests were banned. During that time, they simply assembled quietly, wearing their white scarves in silent protest, providing one another with support and encouragement as they tried to find out where their husbands, children or other family members were.

Recentlly in the news, another relic of that time has resurfaced in the figure of Antonio Bussi. He is now on trial for his part in the disappearances and torture in the province of Tucuman. He is a very old man, covered with liver spots and hardly able to sit upright. The other day during his trial, he was taken out of the court room on a stretcher and sent to a hospital for observation. Yesterday I was watching the news and they questioned whether Bussi was perhaps pulling a "Pinochet". They showed Bussi in the courtroom, looking very tired, falling asleep, with his mouth open, being carried out on a stretcher, but then at one point, getting very angry at a testimony and interrupting it asking questions about what kind of torture the witness had observed. The judge had to tell him several times to be quiet. The news reporter contrasted this with Pinochet when he was arrested while on an overseas trip (in London?) and fell ill. His trial was suspended where he was returned to Chile, and upon leaving the airplane had made a miraculous recovery, walking on his own and waving victoriously to his supportors (I still find it hard to believe that people like that have supportors, but 27% of the American people still support Bush).

The question was whether Bussi was faking so that he could get out of being tried for his crimes.

I couldn't help feel contempt for this man, who looks to me like evil incarnate. If humans were really vengeful they would have removed the oxegyn from his nose and watched as he struggled to breathe. Instead, they cared for him like they would have cared for anyone, in spite of the fact that he was responsible for, or oversaw the torture and murder of hundreds of people.

I wonder if we will ever reach a point in the United States where people such as this will be brought to trial. We love pretending that we are so justice-minded, yet we have torturers, past and present, who are responsible for crimes such as these around the globe, and never once have we come close to bringing any one of them to trial.