Day 3: and the incompetence continues...

Hola mis amigos!

^ See, my spanish is improving already! So I’m really here now. It’s starting to sink in a bit more, but not completely. Monday, we were introduced to and moved in with our host families and yesterday we had our first day of classes, so I’m starting to get a picture of what my life in Rosario is going to look like. So far, I love it here. (See, I told you my next post would be more positive!) The city is stunning, and the people, even more so. The majority look like they just stepped off the runway. And there are these beautiful, block-size squares all over the city that have trees and grass and benches, and sometimes monuments or parks. People walk through them to get from one place to another or stop to hang out... I don’t know, I guess in writing they don’t sound that  exciting but there’s something about them that I love. A lot of the streets and architecture have a very European feel, the influence is very apparent. They’re cobblestone and really old and sort of grand looking.
    My school is one block from the law school and in the heart of the city. My apartment is 3 blocks from our school meaning it’s both convenient and an awesome location in general. I live with a woman named Sylvia who, to my delight, speaks perfect English. We speak in Spanish from time to time, for the sake of practice, but I couldn’t be more thrilled. She’s 60 and mini and has a weiner dog named Bruna and a boyfriend named Buby. Pronounced boobie, obviously. He came over last night and he only speaks Spanish, like most, so that was fun. We talked primarily about food and every 5 words we yelled to Sylvia (who was in and out of the kitchen), asking for a translation. It was ridiculous. But I’m sort of getting used to those kind of interactions, and even slightly enjoying them. Things are always interesting, to say the least. For example, a friend and I went on adventure today, to find her a watch, and to find the second installment of the Hunger Games, in English, for me*. Doing so solidified the thought that every errand, purchase, and interaction brings on a new and comical challenge. Ordering food, asking directions, paying for anything... It’s incredibly hard to do any of that in a language you barely know, trust me. Oh and try telling a story in the past tense, that’s a joke and a half. So anywho, we eventually succeed in purchasing a watch from a street vendor after trying oh, I don’t know, 12 other stores. Then we pop our heads into bookstores asking if they sell books in English. I learn from the second try that I’ve been using the incorrect terminology. That always becomes blatantly clear whenever a salesperson either snickers behind our backs, sighs heavily, or ignores us. Finally, we took the bold move of venturing into an electronic store (we were feeling like we could take on the world right now, I’m sure you understand), where this friend decides to look for an iPod after misplacing hers. It takes us 45 minutes, 5 employees, and 2 dictionaries (I’m being serious) to finally understand that she needs more cash to purchase it. Because it’s 3 times the price it would be in the U.S., naturally. It was all a grand old time if you haven’t picked up on that. Basically, assimilating is easy and natural, I encourage all of you to give it a try! Especially if your acting skills are up to par. There’s a looot of charades, as I said before. Alright well that’s about it for now. More updates to come! And more Spanish, of course, so get ready to learn! Miss you all!!!

love,
Henya

*this post should really be entitled Hunger Games. I’m shocked that I was able to be at the apartment and not reading for this long. All I want to do is give you all a detailed summary of the story. I literally gasped, and cried at various points during the 200 pages that I read last night. so the hype is legit, i concur, now please go read it. I’m off to do the same!

Day 1: Frenzy.

Well, that was nuts. Let me just share with you a little bit about the past 24 hours. And if anyone has forgotten how to struggle, you're in luck! I shall remind you how it's done. So, 18 hours after leaving Eugene, I arrived in the Buenos Aires airport. As the plane ascends, I look out the window and see green everywhere. And naturally I think to myself, "ah what a picturesque South American scene." However, opposition quickly reveals itself minutes later as we leave our gate and begin the trek to exit the airport. (Little did I know it would be more than three hours before this feat was accomplished). So I'm walking down the stairs, chit chatting with fellow smiling passengers, until we see what lays before us. I can feel my face drop as I get the first glimpse at what I truly envision as the gates of Hell. Visa lines. There are literally swarms of people, hundreds I'd guess, zig-zagging in rows in every which way with airport attendants barking directions in Spanish. So many people, in fact, that the waiting line is backed up half way up the stairs. So we start wait, inching forward every couple minutes, and this obviously lasts an hour. (Now of course, everyone is pissed about this--it sucks, but Hawaiian shirt guy in front of me starts lecturing about the confusion of the directions, and informs surrounding line-waiters, in a brilliantly obvious Southern accent, that he will be cutting half of them. Yay for American impressions!) I promise this won't be an entirely negative description, but I told myself I had to reveal the entirety of this day, not just the fun parts. Besides, who would I be if I wasn't complaining at leeaast a little?
Anywho, I somehow make it through that fiasco successfully, and move on the baggage claim. Now this is where the fun begins. I criss-cross my two overweight carry on items across my chest, manage to load up the 30-pound backpack (thanks for that death-trap, Soph!) onto my shoulders, and begin to lug my 60-pound, polka-dotted, clearly-marked 'HEAVY', suitcase towards customs. At this point, bystanders are not even trying to conceal their laughter. And please keep in mind that I'm entirely alone, and blatantly foreign. (And not in that intriguing, or endearing way, but the painfully lame way). So with over 100 pounds of luggage, I meander towards the customs waiting line. On my way there, I decide I shouldn't waste time following the trend of those around me (why would I trust an Argentinian in their native country?) by getting a luggage cart so instead I just get directly in line. I start to sweat profusely as the weight of the bags and heat of the non-conditioned airport begin to hit me. At this time I decide it would be best to remove all the bags from my body, and just drag them throughout the remaining line, approx. 1 mile in length. So every 45 seconds I regather the 4-piece luggage collection (and my sweatshirt too, that has now been dropped on every surface of the airport floor--so glad I only brought the one!) and pull, push, carry and kick them 3 inches. After what feels like a day of receiving glares from the couple behind me, I reach the front. I proceed to heave each bag onto the x-ray machine, feeling relieved for a moment without them, before I cross the threshold to the spit-out point. By the time I've reached this, all four bags (and the damn sweatshirt) are piled up on top of each other, blocking all other bags from completing their x-ray trip. I make the executive decision that blocking the pathway for passing people would be much better so I pull all the bags around me instead. After more growls from airport goers, I manage to reload the bags and head for the exit.
At this point, I see more people, hoards in fact, waiting for their loved ones to emerge from the sliding doors, doors that have separated one chaotic scene from another. And it is at this point, that I realize I have to start speaking Spanish. Unfortunately, I feel that this painfully detailed description is enough for one day, so I'll just briefly summarize the remaining hours of the day. They consist of the following: zero working bathrooms, dozens of eye-rolls (surprisingly enough, not from me), plenty of impromptu, forced games of charades in lieu of verbal communication, and the discovery of my favorite, and most useful Spanish phrase: "Hola, hablas Ingles?" Works like a charm. And hey Sheila, there's your language tidbit of the day, as requested!
So apart from these taxing and embarrassing hours, I was able to make it to Rosario alive, and mostly in tact. And despite this information, the trip is actually off to a great start, so no worries, team! My computer's dying and I can barely keep my eyes open so I'll update more later. And I promise to provide valuable descriptions, as expected of a study-abroader, about the beautiful people, stray dogs, and new sights (I legit saw a family of four riding a motorcycle. ONE motorcycle. No helmets, obvi.) That's all for now, see you back here soon! 


love,
Henya