arg: week 3, days 6-7

Semana Tercera, Dia 6: sabado, 21 de junio.

 

2:50 p.m. — Beautiful peace and quiet this afternoon. Made the good decision of returning to the house after buying my camera. Panasonic. Finally. But I’m still in a serious mourning phase over my Canon. I thought I went through all the stages of mourning, but even with a new camera in my hands, I’m still bargaining. My mind amuses me. That’s a sign of insanity, I think. Yesterday: went to project a little late, but we painted with the girls. Watercolors. We really have begun to bond with the chicos. They are all eager to learn English words and phrases. Melanie – the smartest, most polite and patient little girl I have ever met. She understands we aren’t fluent in Spanish, but she takes time and effort to teach us hand games and the accompanying songs. It’s difficult to build connects with these kids, but I’m trying harder to understand them – their personalities, their little lives, what is important to them. These children have each other. Children are children. My Spanish is getting better, so talking with them and answering their dozens of questions is easier as well. They crack me up.

 

4:56 p.m. — Forgot to add something about my new project Tuesdays and Thursdays. Ali and I will be volunteering with three Cordoba university girls. On our way home from the project Thursday, we talked about drugs, music, famous people, prison systems in both the U.S. and Argentina. We laughed and chatted all the way home. It’ll be great to get to know some local girls my age.

 

7:00 p.m. — Trying to figure out our lives. How strange the nature of traveling – roaming and wandering. Us nomads.

 

Week 3, Day 7: Sunday, June 22, 2008.

4:23 p.m. — Long evening last night. Watched tango at Plaza San Martin at 11 p.m. – locals dressed in winter clothes, unelegant shoes, gloves. Watched in the cold for awhile, then sat at a coffee place – had a café del abuelo (coffee with brandy) to warm up. My choice greatly amused our waiter. Some rum also. Was told by the whole group (Franc, Will, Michell, Elissa, Kate) in unanimous agreement that I would one day return to academia and be a professor. I’m scholarly, they said. I’m afraid of this fate, as it is the one I seem to have been running from my entire life. How odd to have a table of relative strangers tell me I will end up a professor. Went to Rockefeller to meet up with MacK and Ali, but confusion about whereabouts and time. Went to a more local bar nearby and sat drinking a gin and tonic around 2:30. Eventually, we, including Ali and MacK, walked out into the cold, early morning, trying to find an acceptable club. We were in Nueva Cordoba. On our way, met three Israelis (two brothers and a friend) who didn’t speak a word of Spanish. They joined our group and while discussing elementary politics of the Middle East, we walked to a club. Danced and danced until almost 6:30 a.m. Grabbed a taxi back home. Sat around the living room in exhaustion, eating day-old spaghetti from Friday’s family potluck dinner. Finally made it to bed at 7. Woke up this morning around 12:30 and watched Aladdin. Took a brief nap and now – real time. Tonight, the opera. We will be watching La Viuda Alegre – an opretta. This weekend is again a good mixture of physical and cerebral. Well-tempered I am, Prof., or so I am teaching myself to be.

 

5:28 p.m. — Cortazar: “I’m writing to that point, not wishing to go on remembering what I thought. I’m going to get sick if I go on remembering. But it’s certain, certain; I thought of an odd thing.”

 

11:55 p.m. — Bedtime. The opretta was entertaining. Enjoyed it much. My eyes are closing of their own accord now. Class tomorrow morning. Last week of projects with Franciska. Her last day is Friday. She’s leaving for Buenos Aires. MacK and Will are also leaving, but after a week in Bariloche. Looking forward to it, but must figure out Mendoza. Have to think and plan. Or something. Life is getting stranger all the time. I don’t know what I mean by that exactly, but this experience – making friends, traveling, working close to the earth and in the open air in the Argentine country – is good for me. This was what I’ve been needing all along. Coming to this realization now. Sometimes I think I may be too serious for everybody – to solemn. Just a vibe I get. Don’t know. I know few things. And not even – at that. I.

arg: week 3, days 3-5

Week 3, Day 3: miercoles, 18 de junio.

 

11:40 a.m. — Camera cannot be fixed here – but in BsAs. Must email los padres to see what piensan. This morning, said goodbye to Liz after a family breakfast of pastries. Last night, stayed up late discussing professors/ grades, religion, culture/ cultural relativism, suicide, political systems, death. My Spanish is improving bit by bit; my response is picking up. I saw a few Asian people here. An old woman, an ugly boy, a man in a suit, and a woman. I saw the old woman at the fruit shop that night Rick, Franciska and I bought those brown, dried limes. She spoke perfect Spanish. The other day, I was telling Elissa about this incident on our way to our project and I saw the same old woman again – only moments after the conversation. I have seen two Chinese restaurants, a karate place, etc. “My hero has become so strange.”

 

12:20 a.m. — Just got back from watching the partido de futbol. Argentina against Brazil. At Sylvia’s new apartment. Tie score. Still, it was fun. But I’m too tired. Managed to find HSBC in Cordoba. Hurray. Good fucking night.

 

Week 3, Day 4: Thursday, June 19, 2008.

 

3:30 p.m. — Starting new project today. Had class, went out with MacK to café. Came back. Yesterday, a slight hiccup on our way to the project. I fell asleep on the bus, thinking, “Franciska has been going to this project for the past 2 weeks. She knows when to get off the bus.” When I woke up, holy shit, didn’t recognize any of the surroundings. We got off the bus and waited for another go back. Franciska’s only defense was, “The girl in my book got raped! I couldn’t tear my eyes off the page!” Managed our way back. Taught the kiddies “bad words” like “carrot” and “turnip,” which they shouted back at us when we left. Rick started this tradition. Franco’s family named a puppy after Rick. Solid evidence that Rick made a difference in their lives.

 

Week 3, Day 5: Friday, June 20, 2008.

 

1:30 p.m. — Reading Cortazar in English at café. I’ll have to tell Professor about Blow-Up, the story on which the movie is based.

 

arg: week 3, days 1-2

Week 3, Day 1: Monday, June 16, 2008.

 

1:40 p.m. — Last night, spread two twin mattresses on the living room floor and watched Casablanca on a laptop with Will, Sylvia, MacK, Elissa, Kate, Franciska, and Michelle. Stayed the evening, sleeping with Sylvia in the living room. Woke up this morning, refreshed. Took a very short walk on the hill, along the old railroad track. Going to see if I can find that Canon camera shop today. Decided against going for a day trip with Will, MacK, and Ali. Didn’t feel it last night, and if they return full of stories, well, well, well, oh well. This weekend has been an equally relaxing and hectic weekend.

 

3:40 p.m. — Have accomplished nothing. My housemates are lazy like I am. Still, I really want to go fix my camera. I listen to everyone’s travel stories and am jealous. I feel even more restless. But I have no money and I have no plan.

 

1:05 a.m. — Spent the afternoon apartment-hunting with Sylvia. Then as we were walking down to centro, we walked by a house and stopped to a guy there – someone Sylvia knew. There was family reunion, then we were invited up for café and we sat in the midst of the family reunion and talked about what we are doing in Argentina, studies, and the friendliness of people of other countries. Clearly nothing like the Argentines. Like the taxi driver who brought back to the house Liz’s backpack that she left in the backseat. After awhile, Sylvia and I continued our walk to centro – to the artisan walk and met up with a woman from Saturday evening’s asado. Erica sells leather goods. We talked with her for almost an hour and were joing by Nico. Protests in the street against the president. Honkong, yelling, clapping, clanking of pots and pans. “This is a good experience,” Nico said as he walked us through the streets and the semi-chaos. “This is what it’s like to live in a country that has problems.” Got home. Missed my tango lesson. But went out to dinner to celebrate Liz’s last tango class. First night sleeping in my own bed since Friday evening. My Spanish is improving. I managed – if shakily – to hold my own in conversation.

 

Week 3, Day 2: martes, 17 de junio.

 

8:50 p.m. — Went downtown earlier before project to look for Canon store. Was directed to calle General Paz, and from there to Jujuy. Dropped off my camera to have it checked. I will find out tomorrow about what can be done – if fucking anything. Went to Caritas Felices today with Franciska, Talia, Liz and Ali. Played futbol with the bigger kids. Returned. Diego will cook dinner for Liz’s last evening in Cordoba.

arg: week 2, days 6-7

Cordoba, Argentina — June 2008. (Sylvia.)

 

Week 2, Day 6: Saturday, June 14, 2008.

 

12:45 p.m. — Not in Mendoza. After packing and heading out to the bus station, we discovered the buses were full. Also, there were fewer buses going out because of the farmers’ strike. Ended up back at the house. Was planning to go out with MacKenzie, Ali, and Will, but stayed home, drinking wine and having good conversation with Sylvia and Franciska instead. I apparently kept falling asleep in the middle of conversation and snoring. Lying wedged between two twin mattresses on the floor, between Germany and Denmark, talking about the cliches of life and love. Woke up this morning on the couch/ bed. Life is good. Now, sitting at Il Gatto with Elissa, Kate, and Michelle. I need a down-day. Saturday afternoon is perfect for it. Wednesday really will not be the same without Rick, who left us last night for Buenos Aires. Soon, Liz will be leaving as well. I keep referring to Kerouac. My life is turning into a short story. Always was anyway. My camera is broken. I’m so frustrated about it. I’m so angry with myself about it. It was new. I take care of my things, but it broke. I can’t fucking believe it. Only a few months also. The whole thing is absolutely surreal. I can’t believe I broke it. I’m so upset. One of the worst things that could happen to me. I can’t use any of the functions. I can’t do anything with it except shoot blindly. It’s my stupid, clumsy fault. I’m a fucking moron.

 

4:45 p.m. — Sitting on a bench in Plaza de Colon. Walked around a bit in an attempt to find a camera repair shop. Only find stores that sold electronics. Sitting here until MacKenzie, Ali, and Sylvia’s capauera class is finished. It’ll be awhile from now, but I can sit, write, listen to Cordoba bustle and music.

 

6:20 p.m. — Been walking back and forth on Avenida Colon.

 

Week 2, Day 7: Sunday, June 15, 2008.

 

2:35 p.m. — Went to an asado last night with Sylvia MacK, Ali, Will, and the capauera guy Nico. German friends of Sylvia. Asado at an old lady’s apartment/ roof. Delicious. Drank wine, debated literature and validity of interpretation. Afterward, at around 1:30 a.m., headed out to another capauera guy’s apartment. Met more people. Drank some beer. Told stories and jokes. Then at 3 a.m., walked to the club with a party of 15 people. Sang in the streets. Danced until 5 a.m. Before it got sketchy.

 

6:05 p.m. — Museum in Cordoba. “Manos Anonimas” by Carlos Alfonso. Terrifying, disturbing. Ate a delicious choripan in Nueva Cordoba. Long, slow walks with Will, Elissa, Franciska, Kate, and Michelle.

arg: week 2, days 4-5

Alta Gracia, Argentina - June 2008

 

Week 2, Day 4: Thursday, June 12, 2008.

9:20 p.m. — On a bus to Alta Gracia. With Profe, Talia, Liz, Michelle, Kate, Will, Franciska, Alison, and Elissa. Last night. Tango. Also made a meal with Franciska – beef, vegetables, pasta. Walked to Disco after tango class for wine. 30 pesos for 4 bottles of wine and a giant beer. It will never be this good and this cheap again. Might be attempting Iguazu this weekend.

 

10:40 a.m. — Che museum in Alta Gracia.  “Leer y escribir es andar. La juventud tiene que crear. Una juventud que no crear es una anomalia.”

 

Alta Gracia, Argentina – June 2008. (Franciska and Alison.)

 

1:15 p.m. — Estancia in AG. Now sitting at a café in downtown AG. Alfajores. Enjoyed the bus ride down here. Countryside. Expanse of green land and then, endless mountains in the distance.

 

2:35 p.m. — Sat/ walked around downtown AG for a little bit. Been waiting for the bus back to Cordoba for a while now. Another gorgeous day in Argentina. Sitting near the pond. Lying in the sun. Life.

 

2:50 a.m. — Just got back from a jazz club. Pounding, sexy music with smokey, liquor-lubricated atmosphere. Went for coffee at Italian place first, then walked a few blocks to jazz. Nursed one plastic cup of Quilmes beer. Franciska, MacKenzie, Alison, Elissa, and Kate. This evening felt like a Kerouac story as well. I’m tired. Yet my hands and brain feel restless. These days, I sleep less, yet I remain unbelievably restless. I want to use this energy for the projects, but it’s difficult. I find I don’t write much about my work here. I suppose it’s because I’m not quite sure how to approach the whole situation. I’m enjoying my time in the country, on the continent. Yet my purpose is to change something – others or myself. Has this happened yet? I can’t be certain. I feel myself growing and changing all the time. But is that only the world growing and changing around me? I write much in this notebook, yet I find my words are quite dull, my thoughts bland. Is my presence making any difference? Would it matter if I never showed up at all? Remembering – playing hopscotch with some girls at Caritas Felices. Instead of stones for markers, they threw bits of orange peel. Why? Maybe it’s purely for the game – as orange peels do not roll. Who knows? Further, to return to the primary subject of this entry, at Aysund (the school for disabled children), I find I am being wasted. The teachers, kind as they are, do not give me work or responsibility. The school and the staff lack organization. If I did not show up Tuesday and Thursday, it would truly make no difference. Alison and I attempted to teach a lesson about New York, but when we were prepared to present Tuesday, we were told, upon arrival at the school, the class was out on a field trip. Don’t waste my fucking time. Allie and I spoke to Veronica about it. We will be taking over Rick’s tutoring project when he leaves us this weekend. Hopefully, I will be of better service at this next project. I have to want it. And I fucking do. I spoke frankly to Veronica about Aysund. I got what I want: Rick’s tutoring/ library project. This is a narrative conflict of man against himself. The fight is even. Thusfar. I discover I am becoming one of those fucking assholes who love every moment of their lives. Coming back from Alta Gracia, I opened the bus window wide as I could and let the country wind take me away.

 

Week 2, Day 5: Friday, June 13, 2008.

 

2:15 p.m. — Iguazu shot. Trying to figure out Mendoza. Farmers’ protest, bus routes cut, gas prices up, food prices up. This country is in a crisis. I understand little, but this is living in a country not my own.

 

Alta Gracia, Argentina – June 2008. (Franciska.)