I have lived an robber-free life ever since my bicycle was snatched from the neighborhood pool one afternoon when I was 10. Sadly, this streak ended yesterday.
I was walking down the street in my neighborhood, in the middle of the afternoon, minding my own business. I was reading a book, which I am apt to do while I am walking. Nonchalantly, a guy about my age approached me from behind and started strolling with me.
I thought I was about to get hit on. Turns out the only hitting would be done by me. He had his hand stuck under his jacket, and he says to me, ever-so-casually (and in Spanish of course): "I have a gun under my jacket. Don't say anything, just give me all your money."
I was stunned, but I was also 98% sure that he didn't have a gun under his close-fitting jacket. I stammered (in Spanish), "I'm sorry, what are you talking about?" He thought I just hadn't heard him, correctly, so he repeated his spiel. To simplify matters, he slowly said, "Give me the money in your bag" while pointedly jabbing at my bag.
I said, very politely, "I'm sorry, I don't understand anything that you're saying." He stared at me in disbelief, and he finally realized that I was a foreigner and very likely could not understand anything he was saying. Apparently this complicated things a bit too much for him, or maybe he just had a sense of humor, because my would-be robber cracked up and tried to pat me on the back. At this point, I was disgusted by the whole interaction, and I hit his arm to get him off of me (I know, probably not the smartest thing for me to do).
Surprised, he backed off and hopped onto a bus. This guy is such a scum bag. Apparently his schtick is to walk around in the middle of the day, in nice neighborhoods, targeting women walking by themselves. All in all, the whole thing really pissed me off, but unfortunately this is one of the sad consequences of a country in the middle of such massive economic problems. Luckily, my accent was bad enough to save me from harm.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Run-in with the most pathetic would-be robber in B.A.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Crossing the Andes
Pete and I had quite the time getting from Argentina to Chile.
We didn´t reserve a spot on a bus in advance; the owners of the hotel we were staying at told us that we could show up at any time because there would be buses leaving all day. Boy, were they wrong. We showed up at 9:30AM (quite proud of ourselves for the early start) to find almost every bus going to Chile left at 8:30AM. After checking with 3 different companies, to no avail, we realized that we might be in for some trouble.
Finally, approximately 9-10 companies later, we found a minibus company that sold us 2 tickets to Santiago, Chile (it wasn´t even the destination we wanted, but at that point we were too desperate to care). It turned out that our seats were up front with the driver. Cozy, to say the least, and definitely the best view of the house.
When we were pulling out, the woman who sold us the tickets ran out, and said something really fast in Spanish to me, and then the Spanish version of OK GREAT BYE!
I got her to repeat it, and I finally figured out that she wanted us to share our two seats with someone else - she said not to worry because it would be a small boy. The entire trip Pete and I were on the look out for the mystery niño who apparently was going to sit on our laps through the Andes. It turned out a 12 year old kid did get on the minibus in Chile, but we made him sit on the floor (sorry niño).
Although I was slightly terrified of the driving (the entire road through the Andes only has one lane on each side, and our driver loooooved the blind pass technique), the trip was absolutely beautiful. The Argentine side of the Andes was covered in snow, and the weather couldn´t have been better.
The border was both pretty annoying (long lines) but also amusing. The Chileans were really, really serious about not letting foreign fruits and vegetables into their country. They had trained dogs crawling around everywhere on the veggie alert! They chose Pete´s bag as a ´practice´ for one of the dogs. I guess he looked innocent (read: he looked like a gringo). A border guard cut an apple in half, took a big bite out of it, and shoved it under Pete´s bag. Then they set the dog loose, the entire line watching expectedly. The dog, a golden retriever, pranced about happily through the luggage. He stopped for a minute above Pete´s bag, gave it a sniff, and proceded to lick my hand until I pet him. Then he trotted off. Moral of the story - if you would like to bring any illicit fruits or vegetables into Chile, go for it. The dogs will be none the wiser.
Also, the 8-hour drive through the Andes was the most beautiful road trip I´ve ever taken. I give it 4 Smeds up.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
So much for being adventurous
I thought paragliding would be a unique and exciting activity. Turns out it is mostly nauseating.
Pete and I decided to go paragliding (floating through the air with the help of a huge parachute) before we head over the border to Chile. We went up into the Andes in a 4x4, and I was pretty nervous. However, Pete had done it before, and he said it would be beautiful once I was in flight.
It's a tandem flight, meaning that I was strapped to a guy who actually knew what he was doing. That made me feel better. The only instruction I received was to not stop running until I went off the cliff. Ok, fine, that was easy enough. I got in the air, and yes, it was beautiful. It felt more like floating than it did like flying.
My interest in the spectacular view of the Andes quickly waned as the queasiness in my stomach intensified. I think the guy with me could tell that I wasn't feeling well, and he tried to chat with me to distract me.
And then, in the beautiful calm of the Western Argentine sky, I THREW UP, a lot, over the shoulder of my guide. It was, to say the least, a bit embarassing. Welcome to the wonderful world of Smed, folks.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Pleasant Surprise
Finding out that your university has a two week "study period" before midterms, during which time no classes are held, is pretty awesome. Realizing that this impromptu vacation coincidentally coincides with a visit from your boyfriend; now that takes the cake.
Pete and I had planned on hanging out in Buenos Aires during his visit, so I could attend all of my classes like the diligent student I am. Instead, we're heading off tonight for the western vineyards of Argentina, and then we're going to cross the border into Chile. Pete studied in Valparaiso during college, and he said I would love it. After that we're going to jet up to Northern Chile (and Bolivia) to see geysers, mountains, flamingos, and hot springs. Ain't life grand.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Spring has sprung!
It appears that winter is out and spring is here in B.A. I wore a winter coat yesterday and a t-shirt today. Highs in the 60s all this week. Things are really going to start getting good here...especially since Pete and I decided, spur of the moment, to split a plane ticket for him to come visit me in less than two weeks. Wahoo!
Sunday, September 2, 2007
I am an American
Some of you might be worried that I am losing my American sense of identity here in Buenos Aires. At first, I feared the same; for instance, I started calling myself a "Northamerican" (That's what we're called here - BLASPHEMY). However, the events from Thursday and Friday indicate that in my heart, I remain an All-American girl.
It was the birthday of one of my new friends, Felix, and in his honor we decided to have a birthday party. I invited every exchange student at our university and asked them to bring libations. And voila, that night we had a genuine college-throw back "rager." OK, so it wasn't completely a Northamerican party - there was more Spanish than English, and we played reggaeton instead of...ummm...whatever young people in the US play at ragers. However, I must say, it was a pretty rocking party, complete with a birthday cake and a rendition of "Happy Birthday" (In English, dammit).
But the following day is the particularly patriotic portion of this post. Victor and I woke up, not feeling particularly well. We decided we needed some AMERICAN food; I was a bit tired of empanadas. After some internet research, I realized that not many American chains have reached South America (yes, yes I realize that is a good thing). But guess what - TGIFridays has made its way down to Buenos Aires. I put on my burnt orange Texas hoodie and a baseball cap. Victor didn't look much better (sorry, V). We made our way to the mall, ate some fried food at TGIF (and yes, the waitresses have the flare here as well). It tasted terrible, but at that moment, I was so proud to be an American. And I also increased my vocabulary: "Estoy de rezaca." (I have a hangover.)
Friday, August 24, 2007
I've decided to own this one.
You better read this, because it's pretty much the klutziest and most damaging thing I've ever done to property that does not belong to me.
I got a new sweater, which I was pretty excited about, because it's the first piece of Argentine fashion I have bought here (The sweater's collar goes down to my waist; whatever).
Anyway, I was trying to decide whether to wear it to school today, but there are no full length mirrors (I know, terrible) in my apartment. So I got up on a chair to use the mirror over the table. However, this did not appease my vanity, so I, brilliantly, decided to stand ON the table to get a better view.
The table is constructed as such: there are 2 glass panes in the center of the table. Unbeknownst to me, there is no wood supporting these glass panes. ONE OF MY LEGS PLUNGED THROUGH ONE OF THEM, and I fell, one leg IN the table, and one leg NOT in the table, to the ground, surrounded by shattered glass. I'm surprised I didn't sever arteries or something. There is now about a foot long hole in the table. My roommates are going to flipping kill me.
Monday, August 20, 2007
My grandmother can officially never see this blog
I rode a motorcycle for the first time. In Buenos Aires. Without a helmet. With a stranger. Ha.
It happened like this. Thursday was a horrendous day. It was the day the entire group of exchange students was supposed to go to the Visa office to get our student visas. Angeles, the exchange student coordinator, warned us that it could take all day, and that we needed to arrive at the office at 7:30 am. I thought this was merely a scare tactic to ensure that all students actually showed up. I was so wrong.
I got to the Visa office at 7:30..ish. In preparation for this visit, I had been required to pay for a criminal background check in another government office. I had gotten the criminal background check, but upon having it reviewed, Angeles decided that it was too blurry ("borroso") and that I would have to go get another copy of it. So I returned to the criminal background office and got another copy of it the day before I went to get my Visa.
So back to the Visa office. The 40 or so exchange students huddled in front of the 3 desks of the government workers processing Visas. A light displaying numbers was lit up as the day began. But did we receive numbers to indicate our turn in line? No. Apparently, they were going to process everyone else who had received numbers and process our forms every third person or so.
But look, I don't need to get into the specifics. It was a terrible day. I went to sleep for 3 hours on a plastic chair. I woke up and bought $.60 coffee from a woman selling it out of a thermos. After 5 hours, it was my turn. I brought my paperwork up, and the woman took a look at my criminal background check. Translated from the Spanish to the English, this is how the ensuing conversation went.
Visa Woman: Your passport number on the criminal background check is wrong.
Me: No it isn't.
VW: Yes it is. Look here: there is a one where there should be a seven.
Me: Oh.
Me: You know, a one is very similar to a seven.
VW: I cannot give you a Visa, I'm sorry.
Me: Blank stare.
VW: I'm sorry.
Me: I'm sorry too. I have waited here for five hours, and I would like my Visa please.
VW: I'm sorry.
Me: You know I have not committed any crimes here. Please just give me a Visa.
VW: I'm sorry, you have to get another criminal background check form.
Me: It is very easy to change a one to a seven.
VW: I'm sorry.
Me: This is ridiculous. Good day.
To make this already long story a little bit shorter, I took a taxi to the criminal background check office, threw a hissy fit there, was bumped to the front of the line, took a taxi back to the Visa office, was bumped to the front of the line there, and received my visa after 7 hours of work. As a side note, if the Argentine president appointed me Czarina of Criminal Background Checks, this country would be running a lot smoother.
Horrendous. I went home, completely exhausted, and fell asleep until about 9 at night, when I woke up starving. There is not much vegetarian fare for me to eat in this meat-loving country, but there is pizza (lots and lots of italians here). So I decided to try to find myself some good pizza.
I looked up in my guide book what was supposed to be the best pizza in my neighborhood. I left my apartment in search of the pizza. And what did I see when I stepped outside? A pizza delivery man from the restaurant I was looking for, sitting on a motorcycle.
You know what happens from there. Pizza delivery man and I rode off into the night. He delivered me safely to his pizza place. I ordered a spinach pizza, 2 empanadas, and a coca light. I made my way home, ate my delicious pizza, and watched the Simpsons in Spanish.
The end.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Argentina is cold, but you'll be so drunk you won't care
It is a lot colder here in Buenos Aires than I thought it would be.
The highs are in the fifties during the day, and it gets down to the low forties at night. Brr! Compounding this problem, my apartment has the dumbest heating system ever. The heat emanates from the floor. I totally thought the leasing agent was trying to pull a fast one over the stupid Americans when she told us this. But no, beneath the floor are pipes filled with hot water. Silly Argentines. Floor pipes really do a poor job of heating the place.
However, if any of my friends were here, they would not be bothered by the weather at all. This is because they would all be drunk. The wine in this country is ridiculously cheap. My first night here I bought a magnum of wine for two American dollars. It didn't taste great, but it still amazed me that I could by that much wine for two bucks. A pretty good bottle of wine costs $3. And the top shelf wines for special occasions costs $7.
To all my friends (you know who you are) - if any of you come to visit me, remember this: it is too damn cold for me to bring you to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. I'm just saying.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
My primer dia del clase: una analogia
My first class of the semester was a bit of a doozy. I probably only understood 20% of the class. To be fair, I went straight from an overnight flight to the school. But only understanding twenty percent of a law school class is not fun. To demonstrate how I felt in this class, I cut and pasted a paragraph of a law professor's lecture, but I obscured all but about 1/5 of the words.
xxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxx a legal xxxxxx, xxx what is xxxxxxxx for sovereignty, must be
xxxxxxxx by law. And once something xxx xxxxxx a matter of international xxxxxx, it
xxxxx to be a matter xxxxxx within the domestic xxxxxxxxxxxx of the State. xxx and xxxx xxxxx
that moment arrive? The xxxxxxxxx examples are xxxxxxxxxx by the xxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx by
a State. If in a xxxxx it recognizes that xx xxxx xxx xxx x provide a xxxxxxxxx to anyone
xxxxx with xxxxx of the xxxxxxxxx law, then the State’s xxxxxxx to do so is a xxxxx matter of XXXXXX to other States xxxxxx.
However, this is rumored to be the most difficult class for international students, and even my two fluent friends from Georgetown could not understand what was going on. Good thing my entire semester is pass/fail. Oh man, I love my life.
PS - A man gave me a lollipop in a stationary store today to reward me for my "bueno espanol". BOOM.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Living la vida loca
Hi Everyone. After a harrowing week, I have finally arrived safe and sound in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
The flight over was thankfully uneventful. I sat next to a delightful Argentine dermatologist, and she thought I was adorable because I got really excited whenever I remembered long-neglected Spanish vocab words such as 'brother-in-law' (cunado - well, with an enya, which I don't know how to blog).
So far, more people who I talk to here treat me like I'm 'special' (helmet special, that is), and talk to me really slowly and laugh at me a lot. I kind of like this; takes off the pressure of saying things correctly in Spanish because everyone just assumes I am going to say something stupid. This is different than last summer in Central America, where people either had no patience for my gringa-ness or asked me to be their girlfriend within 10 seconds of talking to me. Ew.
My arrival was made easier by the fact that one of my roommates arrived to the city a week before me and picked out an apartment for us. It is huge - way larger than what I am used to. I am sleeping in a twin bed, which I do not mind at all, for two reasons: 1) I do not move in my sleep. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. I do turn from one side to the other periodically, but I only occupy a small area of the bed. When I am in anything bigger than a twin, I usually keep my laptop and various books on the bed next to me because I know there is no chance of them falling down. 2) I have slept in a twin bed for the majority of my life. I slept in the same twin bed from the age of 2-18, and I slept in a twin bed for 2 years during college and one year during law school (oh the shame). That's a grand total of 19/24 years. Only 3 years of sleeping in a bed other than a twin or a crib. Come to think of it, I am sure that my extended time spent in a twin bed has probably influenced my lack of movement/sprawling when sleeping.
But I digress. I wouldn't say everything is wonderful here yet, but I am sure it will be soon. I need to get used to the city and the culture and the language again. I need to figure out how to get around and where I can find peanut butter that doesn't taste like caramel. (Ew.) Things like that. And I need to get some sleep. Night, y'all.