Reporting from Buenos Aires, Argentina.

The equation of the week: A new city + a new host family (with three young slash pre-adolescent children) + lots of seminars and school visits + a new accent and set of slang = 24-hour excitement and exhaustion. I really love Buenos Aires, though (dare I say more than Santiago?). It's everything I ever thought a city should be: tons of cafes, taxis, buses, beautiful old buildings, protests in the plazas, theaters, clubs, you name it. It´s definitely a bit more European than Santiago, which is a plus because our group doesn´t stick out as much. There are so many tall and beautiful people here, which is intimidating, but a break from the constant stares and whistles in Chile has been well-appreciated.

A short observation: It’s really difficult to have a fun or interesting personality in another language. I find myself wanting to make jokes, be sarcastic, or just contribute to a conversation, but nothing seems to translate very well. The result: I try to laugh and smile more than usual. It hurts my brain to attempt to be so involved in a conversation that I can’t entirely understand. I have, however, perfected my reaction skills. So, for example, I might not have the slightest idea what my host mom said to me, but I can pick up on how she said it and respond with the appropriate facial expression or the occasional interjection. The only problem is when she asks a question without me realizing. To illustrate, here’s a translation of a conversation we had last night:

Mom: Tomorrow you’ll have to take the metro to meet your group.
Me: Okay, no problem.
Mom: Do you want me to draw you a map of how to get to the station?
Me: No, not yet.
Mom: Later tonight, then?
Me: Tomorrow when I leave I can buy one.
Mom: Buy one of what?
Me: A map.
Mom: No, I asked if you want me to draw you a map.
Me: Oooooooooooh. Riiiiiiiiight. Yes, please.

And on and on it goes…


My family has a dog here. Its name is Paile, and we got off to a great start. We met on Sunday and instantly fell in love (there was licking involved). On Monday, however, everything changed. I was the first in my family to return to the house, so everything was dark. Paile apparently didn’t remember our first day together and thought I was a robber or something. She went crazy. I mean crazy, like fangs and barking and jumping crazy. My heart hasn’t beaten that fast in a while. Unfortunately, this has been a daily trend. For about two hours every day, Paile is just about as scared of me as I am of her. She follows me and barks and scratches my door and gets punished about every 5 minutes. All of a sudden, though, something clicks in her dog brain and she falls to the floor and wants me to pet her. From that point on, it’s like we’re best friends again. It’s the strangest thing. Have you seen the movie “50 First Dates”? I’m living that movie in real life. Only with a dog. Every day I have to convince her that she really loves me but just doesn’t know it yet.

Fast facts:
1) I’m living without a cell phone for these two weeks in Argentina, and it’s more difficult than I anticipated. I don’t like the feeling of being dependent on technology…
2) My host family owns a nearby restaurant called “La Paila,” which serves wonderful Northern-Argentinean food. We’ve only eaten there once, but my host parents are really good cooks, so every night for dinner is basically a gourmet experience.
3) I didn’t think it was possible, but the ice cream is better here.
4) I was right about the Argentinean accent; it has definitely taken some getting used to. I try to speak like my family, but I can’t do it without feeling really strange. I imagine it would be comparable to visiting Alabama and trying to speak with a southern accent. It just doesn’t fit.

In my next entry, I’ll talk about some of the really awesome academic things we’re doing here. It may involve some short history lessons, but I promise they’ll be well worth your time.

Love,
Jenna!