Parrots in the Park

After finding out my placement in my Spanish class this semester would be intermediate, I headed out with a random group of people from IES.  We picked a neighborhood, stood outside our building with a map to figure out which subte would get  us there, and then took off without a plan.  We were aiming for Polermo Soho.  

My first metro experience in Argentina went pretty smoothly.  There were about a billion people on the train and we were all jammed together.  There was no real need to hold onto anything because, well, you weren’t going anywhere anyway.  Counting my group like my little ducklings, we all made it safely on and off the train.  Once we surfaced, we looked for a restaurant to eat lunch.  Finding a little Italian place down and around a block or two, we were able to order a wonderfully tasty Argentine lunch.  

What I’m learning is that things may say “Irish Pub”, “Italian Restaurant”, or my personal favorite from the day “Pizza de Kentucky”, but the service, food, and atmosphere inside always have Argentina written all over it.  

Some of the group order gnocchi and french fries, but I went with a more traditional s�ndwich Milanesa.  This contained similar meat to the fried bit I had for dinner the other night.  It was actually just really thin steak.  It also had jam�n, queso, lechuga, and the freshest possible roll.  I could only eat half, but the 7 other people I was with were really okay with passing plates around so as to try as many flavors as possible.  The other half of my sandwich was devoured as I got to taste some of the steak, sausages and pastas they ordered.  Hygienic?  Maybe not, but I ate out of a communal bowl of chimichurri the other day, so I’m not too worried.  

After lunch, we picked a general direction and meandered down the way until we passed the zoo and huge, adjacent park.  Strolling along, we found such profound beauty in the statues and sunshine watching over the porte�os kicking around a soccer ball in the grass.  Our conversations entered the realm of trying to describe how lucky we are to experience this here and now – in this city and in this moment.  

The trees are foreign to me.  They are too tall with no branches, or way too fat with spikes.  Unidentifiable objects grow from them, and the palm trees are very deceptive.  My Westernized public education told me to associate palm trees with hot weather.  It wasn’t too cold today, but I would not be okay with going swimming yet.  The birds in the trees and on the ground were hopping around, pecking each other every once in a while.  We joked that we should have asked the green parrots that were hanging around with the pigeons, “�hablas ingles?”.  

After discovering that my group had actually wandered into my neighborhood, I was happy to point them to the appropriate bus stop to get them back to where we started.  It’s a little disappointing that I recognized initially not the buildings, or park near my home, but the gargantuan advertisements for Reebok that label my street.  Not wanting to return to my apartment quite yet, I wandered down the other end of my block, finding the grocery store that I now realize my host brother pointed out to me my first day.  Needing a couple of snacks and a bottle of water, I entered.  

Someone asked me where the pretzels were when I was surveying a wall of chocolate bars.  When I told her, no s�, she mumbled something and pushed her cart away.  I could have made something up, but figured that might be more rude.  Lapping the whole store, I ended in the alcohol section.  Remembering my oath to find good wines before my visitors arrive in November, I figure why not start now?  I picked out a nice Merlot that with the current exchange rate, didn’t make my wallet much lighter.  

I was still a little uncomfortable and panicked in line holding this bottle along with my bag of crackers and water.  Would the check-out guy card me?  He looks younger than I am.  My first time buying alcohol in any country was totally uneventful.  No one blinked an eye. 

 

In other news, I had what I thought was a nice conversation while waiting for the bus this morning.  Outside the corner Starbucks where I await my 67 to come rumbling around the corner stood an older woman who spoke limited English.  I don’t have to remind you that I speak limited Spanish.  But, we managed to communicate the basic details of our lives.  When the buses came though (in pairs, nearly always), she shot me a look and took off for the other bus.  It was no less crowded, so I can only conclude that she just wasn’t as into the conversation as I was.  That’s one way to dump someone, just run away and get on an alternate bus.  Haha.  No pasa nada. 

I think I’m going out tonight with some people from IES.  It should much more fun than getting up at 7am tomorrow morning!  My orientation tomorrow includes hanging out a ranch.  I’ve been told that there is pretty awesome food.  

Thanks again for reading!!

Best.  

Location: Buenos Aires, Argentina