Iguazu and My Adventure to the Doctor's Office

This is the blog we've all been waiting for--the trip to Iguazu!! First off, let me just say that it was AMAZING! I had so much fun. It was so beautiful. I would say it's one of the greatest experiences of my life. So how did this adventure begin?

(Ps: you should all be looking at the pictures also: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/samantha.hiner)

Ok so we begin with a 17 hour bus ride in a bus called "coachi cama"--or a charter bus with seats that are wide enough and spaced far apart to make a little lounge chair. It helped me sleep a little. Because our group was so big, we had to split up into two buses, and we met the others at a bus stop at 7 in the morning. We experienced the most beautiful sunrise. It was a good sign for a good start.

We all piled onto another bus, then drove to the San Ignacio Mini, which is the setting for the movie 'The Mission' with Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons. Basically, with the colonization of South America, the king of Spain sent over thousands of Jesuit Priests to convert the natives (17th century). As the turn of the century came upon them, the King of Spain felt that the Priests had too much power and ordered them all to return to Spain on the punishment of death. The King then set to killing all the Guarani (the native people of the region). San Ignacio Mini was an anomaly; the priest who presided over the community refused to leave. In the end the entire compound was burned and everyone was killed. Reeealllll happy story. Brent and I talked about how we have to tell Dr. Knowlton (a teacher we both had last year that taught us about the occurrence) that we relived the entire experience--minus the death and destruction.

From there we all hopped back on the bus and went to una estancia or a farm where they grow yerba mate. We were able to swim, eat, play soccer, and hang in hammocks for 4 hours. It was great. The food was absolutely amazing. We had churripan which is the Argentine hotdog--but seven million times better. Then we had an asado with meat (oooohhh..... you should all be drooling) and salad. Then I walked around the estancia to see the land. It was really pretty. Then we took a 30 minute walk to see a yerba mate factory. The factory is where they gather the yerba, dry it, tumble it, pulverize it, and then put it in huge 50 pound bags.

Paul, one of the guys here with ISA, and I were talking about how the process of making yerba mate would be a great theme ride. The tumbler and drying would be corkscrews. We're planning on perfecting it and selling it to Disney for millions. Paul also off handedly stated that he wouldn't mind working at a yerba factory for a year, just for the experience. One of the ISA girls, Marina, looked at him and said "and only make 10 pesos a day?" That was a little crazy to think of all the work that these men do for 10 pesos a day.

After the tour we got together and headed off for another 4 hour drive to the Puerto Iguazu. I also discovered that I had gotten pretty sunburned for a 3o minute walk. Piss.

We arrived in Puerto Iguazu at around 9 and we all passed out. I roomed with a girl from Arkansas named Kristin. She is a very beautiful person, very kind and patient. She's also the only person on the trip that I've met so far that "thinks President Bush is a very genuine person." wow. Hey, but cada loca con su tema -- to each his own, right?

So the next morning we woke up early and begin the most amazing adventure I've ever had. I made sure to wear lots of sunscreen and bug spray--the mosquitos are like small dogs up there. We started walking along the Iguazu Superior trail, which means we were walking across the river. Suddenly, there was a lot of mist and thundering water. Five minutes later, we finally saw La Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Throat)-- or this huge hole in the middle of the river. It was just like the river fell away around this hole. It was amazing. Awe-inspiring. You just have to look at the pictures.

And I apologize now for taking so many pictures of a freaking waterfall. I didn't know I had it in me!

Then we began to walk back around the front of the falls. We started walking around the rim of the falls, with all these spectacular views. Literally every step was even more amazing! I couldn't keep believing it when our tour guide get saying "hey, come on, move along, it gets better!" But she was totally right.

We saw Brazil from a far. Apparently people used to be able to swim in the river that's on the border of Argentina and Brazil, but they started shooting people.... so that wasn't really an option.

We continued walking down into the basin. In the morning, it had been really cloudy, but as we walked along, the sky opened up and was PERFECT. Big fluffy clouds, crystal blue sky, the works! At one point we came to a platform that was basically in the falls and we all ran around screaming and shouting because the energy from the falls was amazing. Kilian (the kid I danced Tango with) doesn't know any Spanish, he's here to learn a little, but he kept screaming "ME GUSTA IGUAZU!!!!" which means: "I LIKE IGUAZU!!"

Finally we hit the bottom and hop in a motor boat that took us close to the falls. I tried to keep my eyes open, but even the mist from the falls was very strong and stung. We say La Garganta from below--it was crazy to think that just a couple of hours ago we had been at the top looking down. It was fun to be completely soaked and just feel the power of the falls.

Oh! Casey also was at the falls this past weekend, with her own group and it was really exciting because I ran into her! I couldn't believe that out of all the places, in such a large park, we were able to find one another. Definitely made my day-plus the whole actually falls thing.

We went out dancing that night. It was quite a lot of fun, and I didn't get back to the room until almost 4 in the morning! w00t. I also made plans to go to Mendoza this weekend! I'm so excited!
I'm sorry if you wanted more of a description of the falls: the pictures are really worth a thousand words, though!

The next morning we got up and went to visit a Guarani settlement. Basically the way they make their living is being a tourist spot. I didn't realize it until we were pretty far in the tour, but it made me sick to think I was snapping pictures of these people like they were in a zoo. The Guarani are known for their musical ability, but I didn't get to see that, and it wasn't talked about on the tour. We basically walked around looking at traps they set for animals, this plant that blooms once a year, marking their new year, and at the end, all the Guarani kids sang for us. It was pretty, but the kids looked miserable. Overall, I wouldn't recommend going to see them because I don't feel like I learned anything about who the people are. It's sick that because of colonization these people are forced to make their living through tourism. At one point this little kid walked out of a hut and wandered toward the big group of white kids. As she (?) got closer she started to look like an alien. She had big glazed eyes and her eyes and nose were streaming. I wanted to hug her and apologize for something I hadn't done.

Several hours later, we were back in the big Bs. As. And I slept because I was tired.

Then, last night, I felt a little nauseas after dinner, but I decided to sleep it off. This morning I woke up and I didn't feel good, but I figured it was just my body waking up, so I went to school.

We have two breaks during our 5 hours: one at 11 and the other at 1. I was dead by 11. So I excused myself and, on request from my teacher, went to go see the nurse of the school. She didn't do much, just passed me a Gaterade and told me to come see her tomorrow. Well I felt a little better, so I tried to make it through class--not. I went home at one.

I came home, told Carmen that I didn't feel good, and she went into Grandmother mode. She made me a cup of yummy tea and a cold compress for my head (which was killing me). I told her that I wanted to rest, so I went to sleep. I vaguely remember her coming in and feeling me for a temperature. Then, 30 minutes later, she pushed a phone into my hands. On the other line was Marina, one of the ISA folks, asking if I wanted to go to the doctor and asking for details on symptoms. I told her that I didn't want to go, but if I wasn't better tomorrow, I would go to the doctor. She was in agreement.

Less than an hour later, Carmen was handing me the phone again, and Guillermo was on the phone. He told me that I wouldn't want to travel on Friday if I didn't feel good, and that I should go to the doctor. I told him what I'd told Marina. Carmen finished the call and then turned on me. Her Italian blood got all hot, and I guess she was scared, so she started yelling (I don't think she knew she was doing it, honestly) about how if I didn't go to the doctor I couldn't go to Mendoza. And then I broke down. I just started to bawl. I couldn't help it. I didn't want to go to the Doctor.

A cultural note is needed here. Why were all these Argentineans pushing for me to go to the doctor? Because they have socialized health care, and go to the doctor for EVERYTHING. Therefore, they wanted me to be taken care of. This pushing was completely cultural. Of course, as an American, I don't run to the doctor at the first sign of a rash, and I wanted to take care of it the American way--wait 24 hours, see what happens.

I called my mom and we talked. We finally agreed that I should go to the doctor. Of course, I was bawling hysterically on the phone to my mom--I was scared, I was tired, I was sick, and people where yelling at me! Carmen ran in and was scared that my mom was going to make me leave her house and/or the country. She kept repeating that everything was going to be ok, and that I didn't have to go to the doctor now if I didn't want to... Well I decide to go to the doctor, Carmen puts up a bit of a wall, finally gives, and I head off to the clinic.

It was very speedy and fast. I went with Federico (Another ISA member) and Avi from Berry, because let's admit it--I was scared. The doctor and I conversed in Spanglish. I'll save you from the gory details, but basically I already figured what she had to say. So she filled out a prescription (which by-the-way was only like 40 pesos to fill) and put me on a "diet."

Another cultural note here. As I was waiting in line for my forms and what not, Federico was talking about some of the other kids from ISA that he'd had to take in just this week. He kept saying that everyone was on a "diet." I have come to realize, that while they have socialized medicine, they don't just take the medicine, there is more to it. While in the United States the doctor would say something about what to eat and not to eat off handedly, in Argentina, they sit you down and lecture you on things to eat and not to eat.

I'll be eating a lot of bland carbs for the next few days! hooray!

Well I'm exhausted and I need some more sleep, so I'm signing off for right now. Have a wonderful night y'all.

A Weekend in the Big BA

Friday night was fun. Casey and I went to talk at a café for while and then we met up with some of her friends and we went to this jazz club. (Yes Dad, I know you are totally jealous.) Well, I have to clarify what “club” meant. Apparently these few guys live at the place and they charge an entrance fee for folks to come on the weekends to seat around, booze, smoke (so much nasty smoke), and listen to Jazz. I enjoyed it, though I have to say that I know officially can say that I like Blues better. I also like having the Jazz more in the background so you can talk if you want. This was much more like a concert. Very chill. The music was pretty good. It was a trio with a drummer, saxophonist, and an upright bass player. The saxophonist lead, but he seemed to be trying to hard, while the upright bass player just looked like he was too cool for the entire scene. Both were very good. But the drummer was the best just because of the passion with which he played. He also didn’t have a left arm past his elbow. So he had a band around his lower-upper arm and he stuck the wrasp in that and played.

Overall, it was an enjoyable experience for a Friday night. Very relaxed.

Then Saturday afternoon, Brent and I went and bought our own mates and bombillas. So now we are all sorts of ready to share mate with the folks from home. After that, I met up with the Casey and the folks from Friday night at the Museo de Bellas Artes de Buenos Aires, or the big national art gallery of Argentina. We met up with one of the girl’s hosts mom’s sons. So basically one of the girl’s host brother. But he was much older and he teaches history to high schoolers here in Argentina. So we walked around the museum. It’s huge and has so much pretty art. But I was exhausted (we ended up walking like 30 blocks to the museum plus around the museum itself), so I’m going to have to go back [insert family here]. But I did learn a lot about Argentine art and also a bit about the history of her. Once in a life time opportunity, that’s for sure.

It’s free too! I really love the concept that this great museum is free because, to me, in the United States the amount we pay for entrance into a museum is ridiculous. How do you expect the gente, people, to learn something about their country if they can’t afford to go to a museum? That was one of the saddest things about leaving elementary school-dramatic drop in *relatively* free admission to museums. But I guess you can see the effect that has on a museum. For instance, in the Museo de Bellas Artes, the only form of protection against fire (that I could see at least) were fire extinguishers in all the corners of the museum. But the paintings were very well taken care of and the museum was very clean.

And today I went back to this lake that I’ve been running around. The lago is about 15 to 20 minutes from my house. It was a very busy place today. Everyone was out with their family, walking, talking, picnicking, running, riding bikes, and fishing. Now, a little note here on this lake… I wouldn’t fish in it. It’s… dirty. Like nasty dirty, but there folks were, standing in the shallow bank water with a long stick, fishing line, floaters, and bait.

I sat down in the shade (prime real estate, folks, for midday) to enjoy the view and watch people. This family of 5 sat down at the bench next to me and began to fish. There was a 6 or 8 year old girl, and she was totally excited about the entire ordeal. And she was super excited about having a pole. I was totally scared, considering I was right behind her and her casting arm was a little crazy. She, and others in her family, caught four or five little thumb-sized fish. She also caught a tree limb. Boy was her face funny when she realized why the hook wasn’t landing in the water. She looked up, looked at me smiling, and then, still holding the rod, walked over to her mom and said “mama… mira” and pointed. Her mom busted out laughing. I was totally with her.

I also learned about how Carmen started taking students in. She apparently had something like a catering business out of her kitchen after the economic crisis of 2001 here. Then one of her friends told her that she should take in students, because she had so many rooms. So Carmen applied. The first student was like forty something maybe? But she kept trying. Then one day she overheard someone, or maybe a friend, saying something about the ISA program’s office being located on Cabildo. She heard part of the address. She went up there and walked around until she finally found the building. Now, on the first day of orientation, Guillermo, one of the directors, told us that we shouldn’t let anyone in the building—there’s a family on the first floor, ISA on the second, and a dentist office on the third, no one else should get be here. So Carmen rang in, walked up to the office, and knocked on the door. Guillermo answered the door, took one look at her, and said “Dentist office is on the next floor,” then slammed the door in her face. Well Carmen knocked again, Guillermo answered, and before he could say anything else, she told him that she’d come to offer house for students. The rest is history!

Well I think that’s it for now. I go to Igauzu Falls next weekend, and I have a pretty busy week this next week. Tomorrow night I’m planning on attending La Bomba, or this big drum demonstration. It’s supposed to be amazing.

So, an Argentinean, American, and Japanese Walk Into a Bar...

Ok, so there really wasn't any "walking," nor was there a "bar." But the point is that making sushi was totally fun and an experience I'll never forget. I also have adopted my mom's bug and now I want to make my own sushi. We should have a big make your-own-sushi night when I get back. We can have chicken for those who aren't really sushi fanatics ;) or cooked fish, you know, what eves yo. Pictures have been posted, FYI.

I miss speaking like a gangster and having people understand me. These folks from the North and West of the States, along with the people who don't, well, speak English, can't appreciate my natural dialectic... uuuhhh.

So something that I've wanted to tell you guys about for a long time are the crazy dog walkers that are everywhere here. These folks' job is to solely walk dogs. Some walk something like twenty dogs at once. My favorite dog walker is one that I see almost every morning on the way to school, depending on timing. He's young (mid-twenties) and has tattooed legs. He wears a baseball cap on top of his unkempt hair and listens to music through headphones. But he's a baller dog walker. He has like 10 or 15 dogs that he walks everyday. He's my favorite 1) because I'm always trying to see what his tattoos are, and 2) because I saw him picking up one of his charges the other day. He had the dog (a medium sized one) cradled in his arms, babying it. All sorts of (in Spanish, but this was the gist) "hey buuuudddyy!!!! You ready to go on a walk today? Are you? Are you? I lloooooovvvveee yooooouuuuu! hey buuuudddyyy!" Made me smile. Too bad the man doesn't pick up after all those dogs. Seriously Bs. As. is super dirty because of it. You really can't trust any wet spots on the sidewalk (dog and human piss). You also have to watch where you are stepping because there are so many piles of dog crap. As I learned today through a classmate, some of the piles are also human.... ew.

But enough on the gross part. I've been trying to take a good picture of these folks, but it's kindaof awkward to pull out a camera and snap a picture of them working. Besides they all look they know how to handle themselves, and I'm just this little, foreign girl. Best not to provoke them, right.

My new favorite Spanish phrase this week comes from Carmen. El que no se embarea, no se marea. This phrase basically means "It's worth a shot" and "If you don't try it, you'll never know." I'm trying to use this as my new motto for Buenos Aires. What that means exactly, I haven't quite figured out.

Carmen and I are definitely getting along better now. I feel less awkward, and I think she's getting used to me.

I also learned today that all the Argentineans who can afford it, go to see a psychiatrist, and they aren't ashamed to admit it because it is so common. Of course you know I don't argue with that. So what does an Argentinean need to see a psychiatrist for? Well it's actually kindaof a national joke. You go because you are Argentinean. You don't really need any other reason.

Well that's all for tonight folks. Just tell me what you guys want to know more about! I'm about to start heading out. I'm meeting up with a classmate and might go see a movie (Carmen saved me a coupon). Chau!

Updates and Yellow Fever

Well in recent updates: my iPod. Remember when I said it might cost me 72 pesos, well it cost me more like 112 dollars. Yeah, that was fun. Though, in defense of Mac, the guy who helped me may have told me that I needed to pay 72 dollars. It's still more than he mentioned, but then I wouldn't be so pissed. Can you believe that? *sigh* oh well, I have my music back now, and I need to remember I'm in Argentina.

On Sunday I went to a barrio called Recolta with Brent. It's like the high-rent district, which Brent and I experienced first hand when we tried to find lunch for less than $20 American dollars. So what's in Recolta that makes it so amazingly tourist-y? Well for one there's the Recolta Cemetery. Hooray for dead people! But they are famous dead people, don't you guys know that?! We went to the Cemetery for our city tour, but because I forgot my camera I wanted to go back.

Brent and I walked up to the Cemetery entrance and were immediately accosted by this crazy Argentinean woman with a thick, very British accent. We're talking "would you like to take tea with the Queen, miss? How do you do? Shall we take a stroll round the park, then?" Hardcore. Brent and I had a good laugh over that with the woman; she recognized how British her accent was. She actually thought we were Brasilian because she asked if we knew English and Brent and I just kindaof looked at each other. We finally gave in though and acknowledged that we were from the States. We bought a map and walked around looking at all the famous... dead... people. Creepy but totally cool. Recolta has so many fansinating tombs. The inscriptions, the statues, all of this creativity its creepy. And there are cats every where, which would make the Ancient Egyptians just do a happy skippy dance. Brent tried to pet one. Before it was able to attack him, I grabbed him and smacked him back to his senses.

Highlights of the cemetery so I don't bore you: I understood a French tour, I saw Evita Peron's grave (pictures on line), and Sarmiento (an Argentinean president who my host mom thinks is the shizz-nit). He is pretty cool, having brought public education to Argentina.

There also was a huge feria occurring in Recolta. There are various ferias in every barrio every weekend. They sell everything from food to clothing to jewelery to pictures. The Recolta feria is very tourist-y, but it was still fun to look through. I plan on buying a mate and bombilla at the Belgrano feria some weekend... I mean I have like... enough of them, no time rush yet. There is also a Bascilia, which is like a shrine in Recolta, which was pretty to walk through. When you are looking at the pictures, see if you can't see Mother Theresa with the Virgin Mary.

The big news for today: Yellow Fever. Yesterday, after classes, we had a huge meeting where Guillermo, head of ISA, told us that 2 monkeys (or people, I can't remember) have been found dead via Yellow Fever right near Iguazu Falls, where we are going in 10 days. He told us that we had to go today to get them because today was the last day we could get yellow fever injections. So we all were supposed to meet this morning with our passports and hope on a carter bus to downtown and get shot.

Well I got there on time... except I forgot my passport. hooray for Sam. Luckily, a few others did, too, so we all hopped in a cab and drove to each of our houses, collected our passports and drove out to meet ISA. I was very excited about the cab drive today because I totally chatted the driver up and I totally understand like... .majority of what he was talking about. We talked about the city, my stay, his upincoming trip to Manchu Picchu. It was really cool. I felt so relaxed.

Anyway, back to the action, we drive through town. Before we hit the clinic, the driver tells us to look out the window to the right--there's this HUGE, LONG line (like down the block and around a corner). He told us that it was for a passport. I totally sent a prayer above for living in the States. My application process was so much easier.

Cabbie dropped us off. We got there before ISA, so we stood in the line for the vaccines. As we got toward the entrance, ISA showed up and started to hand out hypodermic needles... like still in the package needles. I was fine up until then. Then I started going cold and kindaof shaky because I was fine with having to get a shot (for free btw-free health care), but my fear was catching AIDS or something and the idea that where I was going wasn't going to be sanitary enough to have its own clean needles... *shudder*

Well I calm down, I wait in line, I wait some more, I go in a waiting room, they call my name, and I'm facing this nurse. I hand her my needle but she waves it away, and gets out her own never been used hypodermic needle and then there's a needle in my arm (sorry for the graphics Natalie) and then I'm shoved out of the room. That was my adventure with Yellow Fever. I also broke Brent and I's promise for no using needles while in Argentina. opps.

A word about traffic in Buenos Aires: freakmeouteverydayofmylifecrazy

First off: PEDESTRIANS DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY. so if you come visit me, don't forget this--people don't slow down, they will speed up, even if you are already walking across the intersection.

Yellow does mean speed up. The traffic signals are slightly different here. While they still use yellow to signify that the light is changing from green to red, they use it the other way also, so drivers peal out the minute the light turns yellow.

Where do all these cars come from? Well there are underground parking garages. As you walk down a street, you notice these lights with green and red sections. They change color if someone is backing out or coming out of the garage because a lot of them are blind (I learned this the semi-hard way). They also beep like beeping is going out of style.

When a cab is driving you home at night, at first you don't notice it, but then you notice that they don't drive with their lights on, they only turn them on when they hit a dark intersection. I suppose the reason is that Bs As has enough light as it is that they don't need to have their lights on in the first place.

and the smog and nasty pollutants are terrible. I always feel caked with it when I walk around. I'm afraid to wear white.


In short news updates: I am reading the Alquimist in Spanish, which is a lot of fun. I really recommend it to people.

I have like 70 mosquito bites and they all hurt and are big red and ugggggly.

I found out, while in line for the yellow fever vaccination, that Kilian is on a stomp team back home and he was in the movie "Stomp the Yard." I think that's awesome, so I have to know see that movie and look for him. Then I can scream "I KNOW THAT GUY! YEAH THE ONE IN THE BACK! HAHA!!! HEY KILIAN!!!" Kindaof like how I did that in class today when we were watching an Argentine movie (....... even weirder than other Spanish-speaking movies) and I noticed that it was shot on my street, Sucre. I was totally excited.... hmm, maybe that's why people don't talk to me....

Tomorrow I'm going to MALBA, which is a museum full of Argentine artists, but also Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, and some others. I bet you guys know how excited I am to be able to see some Kahlo and Rivera.

oh! and i got a letter from my baby sister today which was AWESOME!!!!! i was so excited I forgot to speak Spanish. I was all like "I'm excited!" in English. I'm sure Carmen understood, probably because I was jumping up and down and what not.

Mmmm. Food.

As promised this post will be dedicated to food, among probably some other things. I suppose, then, I should begin:

How has the food been treating me? Very well, I'd have to say it's been pretty well. As I'm sure most people know, I love water and the fact that I can drink it from the tap without any... *cough* problems is a fabulous gift to be bestowed upon me. Buenos Aires water isn't much different from Georgia water (though if you're taking a shower it tends to be more icy, freaking cold than warm).

As for the 'real' food of Argentina; everyone knows that Argentina is known for her read meat. The first few days that I was here, Brent and I went out walking around. We found this asado place (asado is a way of preparing food in Argentina by grill. The closest word we have for it is grill) and shared a fabulous flank steak and a platter of grilled vegetables (bell peppers, tomatoes, yams, zucchini, onions, and mushrooms) for less than $10 each. It was a very well cut piece of meat.

I have also eaten Sushi, or suush as it's kindaof pronounced here, but it was very expensive and while it was also very good, I don't feel like it was worth it. Carmen has a Japanese friend named Roome or Loome that is going to come over this week and teach us how to make sushi. I am very, super, fabulously excited about that!

Carmen and I went to the China Town of Buenos Aires today. Basically it is a lot of Chinese restaurants, some Japanese, lots of little stores selling typical "Chinese" stuff, and also many different grocery stores. Outside of one grocery store, they were selling hot dumpling things and rice and nut spring rolls. I really liked the dumplings, and the roll-like things were pretty good. Carmen and I sat outside of the store, eating and talking. The line to get the food was ridiculously long, and, as Carmen said, if you want to tell how good the food is, see how many people want to eat it. I will have to take pictures of the Barrio Chine, but honestly I haven't had enough guts to do so.

From what I have gathered thanks to locals and tour guide books, the two best places más cerca to me are in the barrios Palermo and las Cañitas. Palermo is a barrio 2 of 3 subway (el subte) stations from Belgrano; you can even reach it by walking. Las Cañitas isn't even really marked on most maps. It's more of a barrio instead of a barrio. A Winnona Park (represent!) instead of Decatur, if you will, or the Clara community instead of the Ford community. But, regardless of what it is, or how it is marked, all you have to do is walk around in these areas and there are dozens and dozens of restaurants. Depending on where you are, and how close to a tourist-y part you are, depends on the price. But you can get away, easily, with a fat steak, either a liter of beer (yes, they sell these suckers by the liter here) or a glass of wine or two, and an appetizer for easily less than $15.

So what about the food at my house? Well Carmen loves to cook healthy. She doesn't like to add salt to her food and she buys all her food fresh (this mentality doesn't keep her from keeping the unopened milk in the cabinet or, when she opens it, placing it in an open container in the fridge. Trust me... it scares me (being the milk Nazi I am), but she hasn't died from it yet and neither have I. Besides, it's all about accepting different cultures.. right? right?). The first day I got here I had pasta salad (which I don't like to begin with) and then the next night we had loads of cabbage and sausages. I didn't mind it so much other than the fact that Carmen loaded my plate up. I think she's trying to fatten me to kill me later and feed to Florencia, her dog. Or maybe Manuela, her turtle that lives in the patio. No, not really. But I did have to tell her that I can't eat all that she gives me, so she's now learned and she gives me less. I have noticed it's a cultural thing to clean your plate when you are eating. I mean, you leave nothin on that sucker. But after a slightly rough start, things have been much, much better. Generally Carmen serves some main course (steak, salad, pasta, etc), a side dish (either left overs or vegetables, kindaof), and bread. I do like her cooking, though sometimes it isn't as American as I am used to.

On the subject of folks from the United States and their food; I have noticed when I travel abroad, or really even eat anywhere, I expect my food to look a certain way when it is presented to me for consumption. As my father would say "Presentation is everything!!" I think it's partly a primordial response, "hmm this looks different from the last time I saw it, maybe if I eat it I'm going to die." But I have noticed that I have the tendency to judge the flavor of the food based on the looks. I'm sure exactly why, but there you go. And I say people from the United States because I think we are most used to seeing the same thing served all around, regardless of where we are, more than other countries. We have a stream lined effect for efficiency and consistency. McDonaldilizatioin if you will.

I also have been stopping in cafes, bakeries, ice cream shops, and fruit stands/stores. The fruit right now is very good, but you have to be careful, just like with any freaking place in Argentina, because the owners will charge you more if you are from the United States. Yes, that's right. I get charged more for less because they assume I am a rich little white girl from the States. So while things are still pretty inexpensive, you have to be very careful and know how much food is costing you or else you are going to get dooped.

Now that I have talked a little bit about all the wonderful things I'm trying, I should probably take a moment and talk also about las comidas típicas de Argentina, or the typical food of Argentina: Mate and empanadas.

As I mentioned before in that short little post entitled "I Miss My Baby Sister" (whom I do still miss, along with all my other peeps), I tried mate a couple of days ago for the first time with Carmen. Mate is a tea from the leaves of the plant yerba mate. You place the dried leaves in a, traditional, calabaza, or hollowed gourd. Now, there's a bit of confusion here, but I don't think that they call the calabaza a calabaza anymore because the actual container is called mate. But whatever, point is that you put the dry, tea-like leaves in a hollowed out container. Then you put in the bombilla, which is a metal straw with a filter at the end. You then add sugar, milk, whatever you'd like, and then hot water to the gourd. You then drink through the bombilla and pass when you are done.

Because mate is so traditional there are many different, very specific actions that go with it. For instance, you never move the bombilla. You also drink through the same bombilla. At first I thought that this was very unhygienic, but that straw really does get hot. The person to make the mate also serves it. They take the first sips of mate, which are very strong and quite nasty. They also refill the mate container and hand it to the next person. You always pass to the right. There are things called facturas, or biscuits/cookie things that are served with the mate. It is very much a social thing. Some people never miss mate. I was out shopping today and I saw a couple of people sharing a portable, small mate container. You can even see people walking down the street, thermos under their arm, sipping mate. You can get addicted to mate though, because it has its own type of caffeine called matene.

I plan on learning how to make and serve the mate, and when I get back, I will invite everyone over for some mate and facturas! It's kindaof bitter and definitely an acquired taste, but it's also one of those things you "just have to try."

Empanadas are little meat pies that don't necessarily have to be filled with meat. They are circles of dough, where some kindaof filler (cheese, meat, vegetables, etc) is placed on one half of the circle, they fold the dough over, pinch it together and bake it. Most are just slightly bigger than your hand. They are like the traditional fast food of Argentina. Most are around 2-3 pesos, and 2 empanadas are pretty filling.

Overall, though, I have been eating pretty well. Eating hours are a little different here. For me, I eat breakfast at 8:30ish every morning, then I have a snack around 11am, eat 1st lunch at around 1ish, 2nd lunch anytime after 2:30, maybe a snack around 5 or 6 ish, and then dinner around 8ish with Carmen. A snack could include mate or empanadas, though I do tend to just have empanadas for lunch.

In other news: Clarisse, the girl from Brasil, left today. Tiana leaves on Monday. I will miss her a lot, but I also now have a friend to visit in Switzerland when I go to Europe.

Schools pretty good. 5 hours a day of straight Spanish is pretty hardcore though and it leaves me exhausted. I also don't quite understand the teachers method of teaching, but at least I'm understanding most of what is going on. The best part of the week with school are the elevators. We have those super fast ones and they look out onto Belgrano. So it's like getting to ride a rollarcoaster every day to class. The other exciting thing to happen on the elevators was this 5 or 6 year old girl. She had slightly tan skin, beautiful brown eyes, and long chocolate-black, straight hair. She was in the elevator the other day accompanying her grandma ( I think). She had this smile of pure joy and keep trying to look every where. Her eyes got all wide and excited when she saw the view from the elevator, as she stood on tiptoes, peering out. She looked like she was about the explode with happiness because she "got to go to the big kids school." She acted like she wanted to run around and shout for joy, but at the same time was trying to show her grandmother that she was on good behavior, and that she, too, was "a big kid." Her pure joy and excitement really rejuvenated me that day.

I also have pictures up! The address is http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/samantha.hiner. It's giving me a little bit of problems, but I'm trying to update it as frequently as possible. Still totally worth looking at.

I've decided that once school gets back in session for Argentineans (beginning of March, right now is "summer vacations"), I'm going to look for an intercambio student. Someone who will speak with and help me in Spanish, and then I'll help them with their English. This way I can meet new people, other than Americans, and practice Spanish.

As for things to look forward to, I think I'm going to see Cirque du Soleil here in March or May, I can't remember exactly which one. It's about a clown; Slava's something something. But I'm excited because I love Cirque du Soleil. I just have to find someone to go with, but I have time, and I don't think it'll be that hard--I mean if someone has class and culture, they'd jump at the chance. The question is whether I'm surrounded by people of class and culture ;)

I love you and miss you terribly!

I am a Tango Pro

As of last night I became a dancing tango pro. That's right folks, I learned how to tango! I was very proud of myself, too, because I don't normally learn dances so quickly. There I was, in the middle of this sweaty, hot, over crowded place, dancing with the best of them! Well the best of the beginners that is. ;)

ISA, my program, had us, the students, meet up at 9:30pm at a club called Alemenia. It has a restaurant on the top level and below is a bar and dance floor. True to Argentina time, the classes that were supposed to start at 9:30, didn't begin until 10ish. But that's ok. First they, the teachers, showed off a little. It was very beautiful, but lacked some of the passion that I have seen in other shows. Granted, they were more or less just practicing and showing off, so it wasn't a real show. Despues the show, they separated the dance floor into a beginners side and a more than beginners side. Naturally I was on the beginners side, but that's a-ok by me. Then we separated; girls on one side, boys on the other.

I learned the first basic 7 steps, and then a fancy little side step. I danced with 2 Argentinean men; one from La Plata, which is the capital of the state of Buenos Aires, and the other... uh... I don't know. I also danced with some of the other guys from ISA. I tried to dance with Brent, but.. well, we just don't dance very well together. I did dance with his roommate, Jeff, and that was a lot of fun. Jeff knows how to Swing Dance, so at the end of the dance, he dipped me. I also danced with a kid named Kilian. He doesn't know any Spanish but he's here in Buenos Aires. So I danced with him, which was a lot of fun because every time we missed a step or did something wrong, he twirled me and I twirled him, there by looking like we knew what we were doing. We got pretty damn good if I do say so myself--think Uma Thurman and John Travolta minus Uma and John. We also "looked sexy" by promenading around the dance floor before starting to tango. I think we're going to go back. It's a great way to meet the people and talk with them.

I keep sweating all the time. Like buckets and buckets of nasty, nasty sweat. I guess it might be because it is summer down here, though I keep forgetting. How is the weather up north?

I went to La Plaza de Mayo today to see las madres march. For a short history: La Plaza de Mayo is the place where all Argentinos go to protest anything of the government. Why there? because the plaza is right in front of La Casa Rosada (the Pink House). Much like our White House, this is where the president of Argentina works (but doesn't live, unlike ours in the White House). So, around 1972 or 76 (?) the government of Argentina was taken over by a military junta. During the regime, 30,000 people disappeared. The majority of the desaparecidos were young adults. They were taken from the homes, disappeared, tortured, and killed. Obviously the government pretended nothing was happening. Well the mothers of these desaparecidos started protesting. Except you weren't allowed to protest, or even really gather, so they gathered every Thursday at 3:30 and walked around the circle in the middle of the plaza, there by protesting by working within the rules. Even after the junta was replaced, the madres continued to gather because the following governments refused to recognize what had happened or to punish those involved. This is the basic history.

It was very.. emotional... seeing these old women still marching around and around. I almost teared up. They have signs that say justice must be served; that the government can't deny what happened, much like some people refuse to acknowledge the Holocaust. They also bring pictures and missing posters of their disappeared children. Nowadays the march is more symbolic, but the mothers still want justice. I think the best part was that the mothers were marching together, but they were also talking with each other, and I could see them gossiping as they did their march. They only march for about 10 to 15 minutes now, but it was still worth seeing.

Carmen rolled her eyes at Tiana and me when we told her where going today because she doesn't think that the mothers are actually doing anything other than stirring up bad history. She believes that for her country to be better, for her country to grow, it needs to be able to rest and heal itself. The mothers, among others, keep bringing up the past and won't let the country rest. She doesn't believe that her country will be able to do what it needs to do to be better unless the people stop living in the past. I agree with her in principle, but I also have read so much, that I had to go.

On a happier note, I found a good way to talk with the people. I just sit down at a cafe, spot some folk, and then tell them that I am a student studying here and my assignment is to talk with the people and ask them questions. How did I learn this? Because I actually had to do it! People are very willing to help, but you have to make sure that they don't try to practice their English. Infact I was out with Tiana, my housemate from Switzerland, and two gentlemen overheard me asking questions, so they joined in. They asked where we were from and Tiana answered that she was from Switzerland, and that I was from "America." She never had Profesora Roller as a teacher, meaning that Profe Roller once told the class that you can't answer that you are from "America" because everyone from North America and South America are from "America." The gentlemen jumped down my throat for being from "America." Luckily I was able to explain that I understood the fau paux, and we had a lovely conversation about the history of Argentina (most of which they told me I already knew, but I listened politely).

I went on another run today--this time in the afternoon! It was quite lovely, though you can feel the pollution in your lungs. I ran for about 30 or 40 minutes. Down the street there is a huge parque and if my feet and body can handle it, then I can run around a little "lake" that's more like a pond.

On the newes of my iPod--Tiana showed me a Mac store down here, and I brought them my iPod. This lovely young guy named Cristian helped me. He actually spoke English, which I took him up on--I don't think dealing with a several hundred dollar equipment in broken Spanish was a good idea. He was very funny looking for me. He was bulky, obvious that he worked out, but he wasn't toned. And he had this funny side swept hair and an eyebrow piercing. And he talked like he was from Germany. I would ask him a question and he would answer "jaaa." As wonderful as he was, I couldn't help giggling on the inside. He told me that what I have two options: 1) if the issue is software, the fix it and I pay 72 pesos (I think it's pesos) or 2) if it is the hardware, they give me a new iPod for free. Either way I loose all my music :( But, by the grace of God, for whatever reason, right before I left, all my music got transferred to my computer from the external hard drive. So I have most of it--except for my new Sara Barielles cd and a few others.

I do have new music, however, thanks to Tiana. And we all know how much I love new music ;)

I have been asked which way the toilet flushes and about the food down here, which I will post about next time--so be ready! this is mainly because I have a little presentation tomorrow in my Spanish class and I need to go practice it. I'm very nervous because I have to stand up and speak in front of the class and use the past verb tenses of Spanish in the proper way. Oh and I will have to explain what ISA told us about how to receive packages from the States. It was quite humorous. I will also get a Flickr account to show everyone my photos from around town so far.

It is raining and the sound is beautiful. And this is the picture of the back patio.

How Much I Miss My Baby Sister

there, you see Lindsay. I miss you much ;)

So what should I talk about today? You guys have to send me ideas so I know what to write about.

Well today I went on a run. Just a short little 15 minute jog this morning. Why in the morning you might ask? Because Carmen said that it is the best for my lungs, which is true. But I'm glad I only went for 15 minutes because I still kindaof got lost. lol.

I partook of mate today. I liked it very very much! Carmen fixed it with a little bit sugar. It tastes kind of like a sweet green tea.

Hello, I am a Gringa and My Feet Hurt

So yes, again here we are.

On Sunday we went for a tour of the city. Naturally, I forgot my camera.... que triste. And I also wore the wrong shoes. My new black shoes that were supposed to go with everything, and be fabulous will doing so, totally ripped my feet a new one. I have blisters everywhere on my feet. It also doesn't help that I keep getting lost everywhere, which means that I have to keep rubbing my poor feet aganist nasty shoes. I also got very sunburned. I keep forgetting that it is summer here, I just think of it as a very warm winter. But now I know my lesson and I am putting on sunblock before I go out. I do not have facial sunblock though, so I need to find some.

But back to the city tour. It was very basic and quick, but I saw the places such as Recolta, a fancy little neighborhood, and La Boca, a not so good neighborhood during the night. I have to go back to all the places we visit to take pictures. But I also have 6 months to do it all in!

I took a placement exam today. I did pretty well. I am in the second intermediate level. I was a little nervous at first, and didn't know how I was going to do, but I did well and I was pleased. Tomorrow I begin my intensive month of Spanish classes. I have class for FIVE hours a day, Monday through Friday. They call it intensive for a reason, right?

Soon I will have a cell phone. Carmen has two that other girls have left, so I am just going to by minutes from there to use, seeing as I don't need to buy an entirely new cell phone for myself! It was very nice of her to ask if I wanted to borrow it, but there is a bit of a story behind it that I will have to explain later. The point being, that once I have my number, I'll post it, and if you want to call it, you can because I get incoming calls for free. If you have Skype, this is a great deal. If you don't, get it because I want to talk to you anyway! :)

As for my family: I live with two other students from different programs. One is from Switzerland. Tiana speaks Swiss-French and she is learning Spanish. She is 25. I really like her. She leaves on Sunday to meet up with her boyfriend in Bolivia. They are traveling through South America with one another.

Clarise is 16 years old and from Brazil. She speaks 5 different languages and is very intelligent. I don't know what her plans are per se, but as of Saturday or Monday, she is also leaving.

It is nice having these two girls here with me, without them I don't know how I'm going to break the silence with Carmen. She is very motherly, which is starting to drive me up the wall. She has a way of seeing the world, and while she is very much open to the culture of others (she loves black men and thinks their skin is the most amazing thing ever), she doesn't like to see the world other than the way she wantes to. But she really cares about people and her students, and she wants to do everything she can for them.

Clarise and Tiana have shown me some things about the city. For instance Sunday we walked to the square of Belgrano where the locals tango during the weekend. Buenos Aires loves tango.

On a very sad note, my iPod just died. I was transfering some music on a program, and unplugged my iPod- volia! It is clicking and keeps turning on in off. This was not the day for this to happen.

Begin Sensory Overload

So I arrived yesterday, the second of February. I had a world wind day. I got off the plane, very excited and also very scared.

The plane ride down to Argentina was a good one. I scoped out the folks waiting at the gate to see if I could decipher which ones looked the most like they were studying abroad. I meet four others. We started chatting. I felt like the only one who was letting their emotions show. Suddenly we had a change in planes, so we had to change our seats. When I finally got resettled, I was waiting with the others and I got re-called up. I was slightly nervous as I gathered all of my things. As I stood up with the counter people calling my name, I dropped a sandwich I had bought at the airport…all over the floor… in front of all the Argentineans… and my ISA compadres. I felt like an idiot. I also felt like I was following them around like a lost puppy. But I know that none of them are thinking about that now, they probably have forgotten. When I get up to the counter people, I find out that I have been moved again, but farther up the plane. Once I boarded the plane I found out that I had a lovely seat, one row behind the wing. So at least I got to look out a bit on the landscape. I also ended up being the only one setting in my row. After I got over my slight disappointment that I wouldn’t have anyone interesting to talk to, I realized that it also meant I had a greater chance of sleeping on the plane.

The ride down was more bumpy (read: turbulence) than any other I have experienced. I was only super scared twice. Night had already fallen as I got settled in my seat. I listened to some music, got bored with whatever the company was watching, ate my “dinner” (while thinking of all the amazing food I’d be eating in Argentina), and attempted sleep. I did find some comfortable positions thanks to my mother convincing me that bringing my neon green squishy pillow would do me some good. I think I was too excited to get any real, long, completely passed out sleep; I woke up ever hour or so. But I do think I actually passed out for at least 3 or 4 hours straight.

I also think that all airport humor and whatnot got left at the last gate I was at in Atlanta. Houston and Buenos Aires don’t seem to have any humor when it comes to airports and air travel.

So I arrive in Buenos Aires. *sigh* How exciting can that be? It was totally exciting. Customs and whatnot is a breeze (thank goodness). As I’m exiting customs, accompanied by one of the other ISA students, we spot the “I’m a Famous Movie Star” Exit Doors. The doors themselves were nothing special, just automatic, covered sliding doors. When they opened, there was a clear, Plexiglass wall behind which all your fans stood waiting for you to appear. It was like a picture. When the doors opened, you got a snapshot of the people outside waiting. And you also felt like everyone behind the doors were there for you.

I meet up with the people from ISA, my program. They give me the traditional Argentine greeting: a kiss on the cheek. I looked around for Brent or Avi, but they had already arrived and left the airport. After another couple hours of waiting for the last of the students, we finally head out of the airport to meet our host families.

I didn’t know what to really expect for Argentina to look like. I figured that the city part was going to be… well city-ish. I was praying for lots of trees because trees make me feel at home. But the drive in was beautiful. We took something like a highway were folks drive like they are on the Autobahn in Germany to get to Belgrano, my barrio just outside of Buenos Aires. Along the side there was sort of country side, but also a large green strip of trees and grass. Cars were parked underneath all of the trees; taxi drivers cleaning their cars, families picnicking, and folks making out-literally. Argentina is very green right now, as it is summer down here. And they have TONS of trees, which are old and rooty. Me encantan. The biggest problem I have seen thus far is the lack of respect that people have for nature. There is trash everywhere, all over the streets and parks. Argentineans don’t have the same idea as we have here about not throwing your left over hot dog on the ground. There are also a lot of stray dogs. They seem to behave themselves, but I’m very wary of them.

I have come to find, in just a few days, that they named this city Buenos Aires for a good reason. There is always some fantastic breeze blowing. While it is most definitely warm here, there isn’t any humidity, so it’s absolutely wonderful. Sometimes the breeze is a little funky, and the city has a smell about it, but, if you are out in the open you can for sure catch a breeze.

Now, here’s the part I’m sure you were all waiting for—my host mother and my new home. I have to admit, it was kindaof nerve racking to meet my host mom. Why? Because it’s been about, oh 19 years since I’ve met someone that I was going to live with for a long time. I really wanted her to like me. We pulled up in our colectivo (bus) in front of the University of Belgrano. There was a crowd of women waiting for us outside. We exited the bus and the women just started shouting names. I heard my name, and there was my Carmen.

Carmen Barbieri, age 74, looks like she’s late 50s going on 60s. She has (dyed, nicely) brown hair, a little shorter than me, and she is of medium weight. She’s got these beautiful green eyes and a killer smile. She loves to talk.

And talk. And talk. I have to admit, this is where the sensory overload bit comes into play. She loves to talk about history and Buenos Aires. From what I can gather, she is from a little town from Argentina. Her parents were from Italy. Her husband died of some horrible sickness; I don’t know if it was cancer. She loves history and traveling. She also believes that everybody, everywhere deserves to be treated with respect. She also refused to take her husband’s last name when they married because she “isn’t an object.” In Spanish speaking countries, when a woman marries, she adds “de last name of husband.” She talks a good speed for me, slightly below normal talk, but not too slow. However, it frustrates her when I don’t understand her, not because she can’t get her point across, but because she thinks I’m pretending to understand. I don’t think she recognizes that sometimes it takes a while to register the language.

On a note about the language: I’m getting like 80% of things! I am very pleased, and thankful, that I wasn’t completely bombarded the last couple of days. I don’t think I understood how well I do speak.

Therefore, I do understand Carmen most of the time. She loves her students. She is very proud of all of them. As they say in Spanish, “ella es buena gente”—she is a good person.

Ok enough for today. Next time I will write more of the house, Carmen, my house mates, escuela, food, etc. And if anyone reading this wants to know more about anything, or wants clarification, email me or leave a comment!

This is Actually 2-1-2008

So this morning, the morning I left for Argentina, was a crazy one. I didn’t get much sleep last night, which I suppose isn’t a big surprise. I couldn’t stop the packing list going through my mind and wondering exactly what type of dog is a “small dog.”

Leaving people this morning was hard, but not as hard as I thought it was going to be. It felt good, knowing I was ok, though there were definitely some tears. I mean there was probably more than what the average person would call “some tears.” But it wasn’t like a tsumani of them. I was so glad that Natalie, Lis, Lindsay, and mom all came to see me off. I remember hugging my mom and thinking “I’m scared.” I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t really speak. But at least being able to hug was similar enough to telling her.

So there we were, this big bunch of bawling, hugging, group of females right in front of the security check point. This short, security guy, in the nicest “hey-get-a-move-on-it” voice with a funny accent said “you not supposed to be sad, it’s happy.” [On a side note, I probably shouldn’t be making fun of accents seeing as I’m about to become the “short, American girl with a funny accent.”] Then my entourage ducked out with their eyes swimming as I tried to dry up and continue on.

But there was something I couldn’t ignore. It’s a pretty big thing that began to gnaw at me. It was the realization that I’ve never done this before. I’ve never traveled alone like this before; I’ve never had nobody on the other side.

But, as I was thinking that, I realized that I do have someone on the other side; Jesus. No, I mean yes, but he’s always here. My first real thought was Sña. Carmen Barbieri. And, of course, her “small” dog. Then I remembered Brent. Everything felt a lot less scary and overwhelming. The optimist in me won’t let my pessimist win. There is so much waiting for me on the other side.

Apparently my new found confidence didn’t show on my face. I think I still looked blotchy and scared. So God sent some Angels.

First, as I was in the Disney-esque line of Atlanta airport Security, they [read The Man] started closing down all the security lines on the side where I was standing in line. So my entire side was being pushed into the middle with all the other people who were already in the middle. Did I mention I was the cutoff person? I was very close to making it into the security lane, but now, The Man’s shift ended and he needed to be relieved. The guy behind me was this mid-thirties, pudgy, white guy headed to the Dominican Republic for “vacation time… and uh, play some golf.” Right. So Mr. Guy tried to talk the guard in front of me into letting us in the line. While he failed, the point is that he was kindaof looking out for me. And that felt good because it reminded me that there are people looking out for me, though I don’t know if Improv trying to steal my passport and/or plant illegal drugs on me is in the same ballpark, per se.

After failing to make that last cut, I stood facing this long line with lots of stressed out people. I was hot and felt sweaty. Y’all know me. Add me, a long line that isn’t really moving, a plane ride I have to catch, and lots of people and heat—you’d think I’d be chomping at the bit. I have never been so patient in my entire life. I was ok with the line; I just knew it was going to work out. It was the grace of God.

As I’m standing in line, another gentleman leans over and asks me where I’m headed. I told him that I was heading to the big BA. He told me that he’d been Buenos Aires before… to go hunting… hunting in a city of 30 million people… But he was a nice guy. Actually, he kindaof looked scared to talk to me, like I was going to start bawling at any second. I think he wanted to lend some comfort, but didn’t want to get mauled by a crowd that thought he was giving me trouble if I started wailing.

The Atlanta airport sure has changed a lot since I was there last. It’s much fancier and cleaner. As for more efficient… well… that can’t really be evaluated, can it? I also have to wonder how a severely bankrupt company can afford this crazy ass new renovation. They have cute little vending machines of prepackaged food along the concourse featuring cute little names like “Sushi and Salad” or “Plane Delicious.”

Why would I comment on what the walk down the concourse looked like? Did I forget to mention my gate number was 33? All the way at the end of the concourse? Yes, I think I did, therefore me and the walk down the concourse became very intimate. I also got all the exercise necessary for the day. I enjoyed seeing all the people. There was this guy with really dark eyebrows that looked like catipillars on his forehead, but he had very white facial and head hair. There were all the people getting coffee, stressed out folks, running folks, and kids running around with tired parents.

After a year, ok 2 minutes, of walking I got to my gate and, unsure whether I needed a new boarding pass or whatever, I walk up to the counter where I interrupted a very important conversation between the CounterMan (CM) and his co-worker, CounterWoman (CW). When CounterWoman finally makes CM pay attention to me, he glances down his long nose and told me that “flying coach… no” I wouldn’t need anything else, I could take a seat. But not near first class, I might give them lice.

So I sit down and start writing. I happen to sit down right under a TV broadcasting last night’s Democratic debates, so I half listened to Hilary ramble and Obama rumble while jotting down my adventure thus far. As I paused, I looked up to see a man on a telephone, blinking furiously. And by blink, I mean he was using his entire face. Every single time he blinked he scrunched up his entire face. Just like a koala bear, or Dr. Phil, take your choice.

When the time comes to board, CW was very kind. As I was passing through, the woman boarding behind me as CW if she had a trashcan, which reminded me of the tissue I’d been clutching since security. I asked CW if I could throw my tissue away. She laughed, and then pulled a face saying something like “Is that boogers?” like I couldn’t throw away my tissue if I had boogers in it. I pulled a face back and said “oh yeah, and they’re green if you want to look.” So I boarded the plane to Houston with a laugh and CW wishing me un buen viaje.

The flight to Houston isn’t very full, which was fine because I wanted some time to myself. We got to move up in the flight, though I’m still in “coach.” I had this middle aged couple behind me that appear younger because they have a lot of humor.

There’s also this very elegant, lengthy black woman. She’s seated in coach, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by the way she cares herself. She has a fur miff on her head, gold jewelry, heels, a full coat, and makeup. All very dignified and commanding a little bit of respect. She looks a little scared, but very beautiful.

Today seems like a good day for humor. Everyone’s caring some, even the flight attendents. The flight attendant that did the safety procedure apparently has been doing the shpell of years, but she seemed to forget most of it today. Instead she offered two free tickets to the Super Bowl for anyone who could get a way with smoking on the plane without getting caught. All you had to do was tell her how you did it. She also apologized for having to go over the same procedures that everyone has heard a thousand times. Oh, and there are pina coladas, shaken right there in the aisle for you for only $5.

I landed in Houston and thus began my 9 hour lay over. They don’t even have my flight up yet, I’m so early. So I hopped a cab to the Deerbrooke mall. My cab driver was nice. But, like everyone else, thinks I’m silly for being scared. I felt very small in his cab. And awkward. But he was friendly enough that it wasn’t too bad.

I bought myself a ticket to see 27 Dresses, some Chick-fil-a for lunch, and too much candy. I made myself sick. Sorry Lindsay, I threw some away and forgot the wrapper :) I’ll make it up to you.

27 Dresses apparently was a very good choice as far as a lay over movie goes. I went in at 1:40 and came out around 4. I enjoyed it, though it was terribly predictable. I liked how the writers were trying to “discover” more of the character, and for once, the main character wasn’t just a hopeless romantic, waiting for nothing more than a man, but she also had a real life-issue; she never took care of herself. And her character followed through pretty well. I like Katherine Heigl. She kindaof looks like Emily-Rose. Or a new Katherine Hepburn. Anne Hathway is the new Audrey, Hagel is the new Katherine.

The bad part: there are like 670 million movies coming out while I’m gone that I want to see. But then I remember I’m going to Argentina. Oh, and for those that know the Matthew McConaughey,-bump in story, I think that kid from Speech ran into him while he was filming his new movie with Kate Hudson called Fool’s Gold. Oh and Across the Universe comes out on Feb. 5th.