I met a fellow Coloradan girl named Phoebe at the airport in B.A., so we did everything together that week.
Our first night we wanted to see some tango, so we looked at a booklet that listed all the 'milongas' in town and went to the very last one listed. We showed up, and just as we went to pay the entrance fee we noticed the sign said "Milonga Gay". We went for it anyways and it was amazing. Admittedly, it was strange getting used to seeing same gender partner dancing together, especially such a sensual dance, but after a while it w
as amazing watching couples of any combination because they were all really good. They cleared the floor and turned up the lights for a performance half-way through where these two guys did a choreographed dance with aerials, sparkly hair, and drama; it was breathtaking.
The following day we met up with a Brazilian, an Australian, and a Seattlite and explored the city. We walked around the area by our hostel "el Centro" which included many ornate government buildings, the famous "Obelisco", Florida St with all its shopping, and stopped at Puerto Madero for lunch. From there we went to the nearby la Boca neighborhood that was originally inhabited by Italian immigrants. The immigrants were so poor that they would paint their house the color of whatever paint they could find, resulting houses of clashing, bright, and cheery hues. By then we were all dehydrated and sunburned - in Februrary, so we came back and were just i
n time for my hostel's all-you-can eat Argentinian barbeque. It's not like American bbq with the sweet sauce and stuff, but it was amazing.The Brazilian boy we hung out with that day for some reason came to believe Phoebe and I spoke Portuguese, so he spoke to us in it all day. At first I went with it cause I was having fun picking out cognates and because it's pretty, but I continued to keep up the facade because I felt bad and didn't know how to tell him I'd had no idea what he was saying all day.
That was the night I began to realize that Lonely Planet (I know, I know - I quote it like a nerd) wasn't joking when they said B.A. nightlife doesn't even started till 2 a.m. or so. After visiting with people at our hostel for a long time, some friends and I went out at 2 to go dancing. Too much rap; I would have preferred salsa - I'll try to avoid that scene in the future. I felt bad that the follow morning and following several mornings we didn't
get up till 1 or so, but I was comforted by the fact that there was always a group getting back from the night before just as I was getting up (yes, at 1 p.m.).Friday we met up with some Brits and an Italian and set out for the famous Recoleta Cemetery. I love Latin American cemeteries and this one was up to my standards. They're all above - ground, small, opulant tombs set up in tall rows so that it's almost like visiting a neighborhood except that when you peer through the doors of the building there're coffins, not people.
Saturday Phoebe and I met up with our friend Salvatore again an
d went to a neighborhood called Palermo which was full of boutiques and a fun market. Being that Salvatorte was Italian and had in conversation already acknowledged that he understood fashion, I felt lots of pressure to buy anything I tried on that he approved of, but I resisted. We wandered from there to the Botanical Gardens where we meandered through tall trees and ancient statues and finally sat for a while visiting, avoiding the phenomenal number of cats sprinkled through the garden, and making awkward eye contact with this band of brass players dressed in 1900's clothes that we eventually awkwardly talked to.That night we finally went to tango lessons. It is definitely a dance of tradition and hierarchies, so as beginners we were kind of shunned and put in the corner, but we learned a lot and afterwards were invited to join our instructors at the beginner table for drinks and conversation - all the other beginners were Argentinian, so it was good Spanish practice.
Sunday morning we met up with our new friend Vithente from Spain with whom we journeyed by subway and train to a town on the inlet of the Rio de la Plata, speaking Spanish the whole way. The town had lots of nice German-ish architecture and we took a chartered boat ride for an hour down the river, hearing about the history of the area and admiring the pretty shacks along the shore. We wandered a
round Tigre's market afterward, looking at ma'tes, leather, and cowboy hats before heading back and going out for the completely mandatory steak and wine dinner which was about $20. Realizing going to sleep was just silly because I had to leave so early for the airport, I just stayed up with Phoebe and Vithente and we took a walk around the still busy city at about 4 a.m.Sunday night/Monday morning were filled with taxis, buses, planes, and shuttles before I arrived at my host home in Vina del Mar, Chile mid-morning. I was excited to learn that my host mom, Fabiana, is Argentinian so she can show me how to make the tea I never learned how to in B.A. I met her loud and friendly husband, Jose, and then she and I went and found her daughter Denise, who's 14 and her four cousins in the middle of all the Festival of Vina del Mar festivities just down the street.
Since then I've been pretending I'm a Chilean teenager, and it's amazing. I've heard who knows how many comments on how pale and skinny I am, resulting in being forced to eat ice cream three times a day and I hang out all the time with
all the cousins (ages 13-20). We go to the beach, walk the streets late at night and buy fried, sugary desserts, watch t.v., visit the grandparents, teach each other bad words, and go to concerts - yes, I saw Juanes live and although we were so far away that I couldn't even see his face, I was blown away. And I can't even tell you what their new favorite phrases to write on dusty cars or jokingly yell at each other are, because they're far too vulgar.I like Chile a ton so far and am absolutely loving that fact that I haven't spoken English in four days, but this afternoon I got homesick. It's hard living in a partial fog and never quite knowing what people are saying and wishing you could just talk to your mom, but it'll get better and is already so worth it. Chau, chau.
