Still Alive, Y'all

As I had expected, about as many things have happened to me in the past few days, as did in the rest of my entire summer. After flying for approximately three gazillion hours, I got to Buenos Aires, where my program thingy paid for a taxi to take me to my family. In the taxi, these things happened:

1. I tried to read the street number to the taxista but realized I had forgotten how to say “fifty.”
2. I feared for my life.
3. I feared for muchas pedestrians’ lives.
4. The taxista tried to introduce himself with the universal hand gesture of pointing at one’s chest but he had to repeat himself three (3) times.
5. I feared for my life.
6. The taxista gave like ten piropos to women passing by.¹
7. The taxista turned on the radio and started playing music to which he started swaying violently. (No exaggeration, the car started leaning side-to-side).
8. The taxista smoked like 5 cigarrillos that were called something terrifyingly similar to formaldehyde.
9. I feared for my life again.

There have been so many interactions similar to this with los argentinos that I’ll just let you generalize from here.


After the taxi ride, I met the woman I’ll be living with this semester. She lives in a neighborhood called Belgrano, which is middle to upper middle-class, which means it’s pretty safe, which means I’ll only maybe get mugged. Cristina, mi host mother, was the most nonchalant about the whole thing, I guess cause I’m her fourth student. This means she’s got the whole thang all set up for me, including INTERWEBS and una TELE² (that’s what the rest of the world calls TV) in my room. She’s real nice but it gets kind of awkward sometimes when I have nothing to say. Por ejemplo, this is what my first dinner was like:

1. I SCREWED UP MY FIRST BESITO GUYS³
2. We sat in silence.
3. I smiled awkwardly.
4. They talked about universidades.
5. I smiled awkwardly.

I’ve realized it’s going to take some adjustment because Argentines do things like talk for hours over tea/coffee after dinner, whereas I’m accustomed to talking never. It’s not that I’m timid, I’m just the worst at small talk. Whatevs.

Anywhoo, apart from these difficulties, I’m having a great time getting lost in the city. But for reals. Basically what happens everyday is we have breaks between classes⁴ where I wander around with personas from the program I’ve met (YEAH I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU, THE PERSON(S) I JUST FRIENDED ON FACEBOOK WHO MAYBE FOUND THEIR WAY HERE) and get lost and eat in a café or McCafe⁵. The cafés are kewl. The first día I ordered a fairly decent sandwich and a glass of wine (THAS RIGHT I’M LEGAL NOW, MOM AND DAD) for around the equivalent of 7 dollars. Also, they have not normal U.S. things at the cafes. Por ejemplo, while I was at McDonald’s today, at a regular café, this chico ordered what he thought was a sandwhich, and it was, except for the fact that the sandwhich was a bunch of raw meat between two crackers. Yeah. I think I’m required to eat that before I leave.

Anyways, I also bought my celular from a store called Personal. Now, it may be because I don’t understand Spanish completely⁶ but cell phones are the most complicated thing down here. What you do (I think) is buy a phone that has 5 minutes on it then go to a pharmacy/convenience store to buy real minutes. BUT WAIT because you probably can’t do that yet because you don’t have your number yet because it takes hours for Personal to text it to you. This is all really boring I’m sure, but basically, all this leads to why I’m sitting here writing this blog post instead of being at the bars with people.

Basically what ha’ happened was was that I used my 5 minutes trying to call a cab to pick me up,⁷ so when the cab never came, I was without a way to get out because I’mma be honest I’m sorta scared of taking a bus because I feel like I’ll end up in Brasil.

And that brings me to ahora. Next time, I hope to talk about using a cell phone correctly, going out to bars, and carrying on at least five minutes of conversation con argentinos.

¹ This is a thing where men rape women with their eyes and mouths when they walk down the skreet. My taxista had various techniques including beeping, shouting incomprehensible (to me) things, and whistling (yeah, you know the whistle).

² Argentine TV is the most fascinating thing. They have about five or six regular channels like in the US and then some, my family included, have additional cable packages. On the tele, you can watch: soap operas about people walking around the forest with guns, game shows that rival the Japanese in peculiarness, and a bunch of American shows like Friends, or The Office, etcetera, either with Spanish subtitles or dubbed in Spanish. My first night, I chose to watch COPS dubbed in Spanish because, well, why wouldn’t I do that?

³ En Argentina, when you greet someone, there’s this thing you do called a besito where what is supposed to pasar is you’re supposed to touch the other person’s cheek and make a kissing noise IN THE AIR. Here’s what happened with my first besito: I tried to shake her hand (BECAUSE IS GON BE WEIRD IF GO IN FOR THE KISS WHEN I WASN’T SUPPOSED) but she leaned in for the besito. What happened was a kind of hybrid hanbesishake where we interlocked our hands (like we were doing the half-shoulder-hug thing in ‘Merica) and shook them while she kissed the air next to my cheek and I panicked and accidently kissed her cheek. Let’s just say that say you should be sure to watch out for this mini catastrophe on the next episode of WHEN BESITOS GO WRONG.

⁴ They’re not classes.

⁵ Yeah I went to McDonald’s here so what. I was basically curioso about what they were like and ya know what? No big deal. WAY more expensive than at home and apart from the burger I ordered, WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO COME WITH WHAT LOOKED LIKE DORITOS ON IT BUT DIDN’T, pretty much the same.

⁶ Yeah, that’s definitely what it is.

⁷ I’ve been told I have to always call a cab because if you take one from the street you will be robbed/raped/killed in 5 minutes flat.