With 26 days left in Buenos Aires, there are a lot of things I'm going to miss. There are also a number of things I can't wait to say chau to.
Here's a few things that I just simply need to do a little venting about.
The first thing being-
I'm tired of being "mami'd" and "puta'd". To the many doormen, young men, old men, boys still in their school uniforms...I am not your mami, bebe, chica, flaquita, puta or whatever else you want to throw at me as I walk or run past you. It's one thing to look me up and down like a machismo-ridden creep, but asking me if I wanna get with you as I'm running past you on the street, even though we both know I'd never actually respond, is getting on my GODDAMN nerves. This is one cultural difference that I don't feel flattered by and have a hard time getting behind.
The second thing-
Can a chick mail a letter around here? Once again, I understand and accept that there are both cultural and systemic differences that come with being in a foreign country. Having said that, I would like to introduce Argentina to the concept of a MAILBOX. To send any postcards back to the US, I have to go to a post office (which are not terrifically common) and buy the stamps there and watch the employee post them for me. I just want to buy some fucking stamps and post my own damn letters in a mailbox.
Third (and for now final) thing-
STREET SIGNS. Buenos Aires overwhelmingly must feel they are too cool for proper and consistent street signs. I can go for four or five blocks easily and not see a SINGLE, even poorly posted, street sign. I can tell you firsthand that when you're trying to figure out where to get off the damn bus in Buenos Aires, don't count on street signs to help you. It's such a simple (and probably silly) thing but proper street signs can go a LONGG way in helping you know where the hell you are.
That's all for now kids.
-j
Monday, June 4, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
what's next with art is...?
Tonight Chelsea and I met up with a guy named Alejandro. He's one of three guys who operate a kind of graffiti/street art photo collective at www.escritosenlacalle.com We contacted them about participating in the Art Is...project about a week ago and they hit us back saying they were interested.
Consequently, Chelsea and I found ourselves at the corner of Cabildo and Lacroze waiting for someone we'd never met. Perfectly safe.
We finally located Alejandro(who on a sidenote smelled like sandalwood)and walked a few blocks to a quieter street and along the way we talked about the Art Is...project and his own website. Since the majority of our Art Is...phrases have been basically hit and run, meaning we ask the person on the spot, we haven't spent a lot of time talking about the project at length. Therefore, when Alejandro asked questions about the project I found myself not having a lot of well-formed thoughts (in Spanish at least)and was stumped when he asked what we wanted to do with the Art Is...project and where we saw it going. With a month left in Buenos Aires, I've started to ask myself the same question but haven't come up with anything yet.
In one way, the project has already been taken further via the larger organization that is FOKUS(www.fokus.org). The Art Is project is rather how the ideas of FOKUS have been taken further. Since the question of what "Art Is" is so central to what FOKUS represents, I can't mentally separate the two. Entonces, the question of what else to do with the Art Is project doesn't have an immediate answer for me.
Gonna let this one marinate...
-j
Consequently, Chelsea and I found ourselves at the corner of Cabildo and Lacroze waiting for someone we'd never met. Perfectly safe.
We finally located Alejandro(who on a sidenote smelled like sandalwood)and walked a few blocks to a quieter street and along the way we talked about the Art Is...project and his own website. Since the majority of our Art Is...phrases have been basically hit and run, meaning we ask the person on the spot, we haven't spent a lot of time talking about the project at length. Therefore, when Alejandro asked questions about the project I found myself not having a lot of well-formed thoughts (in Spanish at least)and was stumped when he asked what we wanted to do with the Art Is...project and where we saw it going. With a month left in Buenos Aires, I've started to ask myself the same question but haven't come up with anything yet.
In one way, the project has already been taken further via the larger organization that is FOKUS(www.fokus.org). The Art Is project is rather how the ideas of FOKUS have been taken further. Since the question of what "Art Is" is so central to what FOKUS represents, I can't mentally separate the two. Entonces, the question of what else to do with the Art Is project doesn't have an immediate answer for me.
Gonna let this one marinate...
-j
Monday, May 21, 2012
deliciously awkward human theatre
This Sunday my host mother had her "graduation" for her life coaching class. I was invited and since she's been so nice to me, I thought I'd do her a solid and go to show some support. The morning began with me wondering what the hell I had voluntarily agreed to-why would I willingly spend five hours in a room full of rich Argentines celebrating themselves? I almost backed out when I realized my host dad and I were going together and saying I was sick wouldn't work.
So the two of us left the apartment building and grabbed a taxi. Mind you, this is the closest proximity my host dad and I have ever been in, save for the occasional dinner. He and the taxista had a conversation about the corrupt government while the taxista's cigarette smoke wafted back. We arrived at the hotel where the event was being held and powerwalked through the lobby. No one had arrived yet so we helped ourselves to the breakfast that we thought was for the invitees. Halfway through this mostly silent meal, a waiter came over and told us that the food was only for hotel guests. Whoops. In the smoothest of moves, my host dad paid the waiter and kept eating his ham and cheese croissant. A few other of my host parent's friends came and sat with us and I found myself deeply engrossed in a conversation about how fantastic the city of Las Vegas is and how awesome the United States government was.
We finally went in to the room where the event was set up. It looked exactly like a business conference crammed into a small space. Pepin (my host dad) and I squeezed into one of the narrow rows and sat down. A few minutes later an annoyingly bouncy man came out in front and began explaining the event. His voice sounded like that of a mid-grade car salesman and gave me the impression I was about to be swindled into buying something I didn't know I wanted. There were five other "graduates" and the first woman began her presentation. With a dance. The entire audience was urged to stand up and follow along as the Sims-looking dancers on the screen did a series of increasingly humiliating dance moves. I glanced sideways at Pepin and knew that neither of us had any intention of losing that much dignity so early in the morning. After an eternity, everyone sat down and the woman continued her presentation.
Why was this such great human theatre? Well my friends, after the woman had finished, the same bouncy man came out and began publicly critiquing what she had done. Essentially, he constructively hoed her life. Then one of the other "judges"(there were three of them, I assume the teachers of the life coaching class)came out and did the same thing. At that moment I was so glad I had no emotional connection to the potential embarrassment of any of these people and upon realizing it, the whole event became hilarious.
When we broke for lunch I told Pepin that I had to be somewhere in an hour and he patted me on the back and told me I was fine to leave. There was almost a sense of "save yourself" in his voice. So I bee lined past the food (which looked dank)and headed for the exit. Walked a block, caught the 10 line home and then went for a 7 mile run.
If I think about it,not a bad Sunday at all.
-j
So the two of us left the apartment building and grabbed a taxi. Mind you, this is the closest proximity my host dad and I have ever been in, save for the occasional dinner. He and the taxista had a conversation about the corrupt government while the taxista's cigarette smoke wafted back. We arrived at the hotel where the event was being held and powerwalked through the lobby. No one had arrived yet so we helped ourselves to the breakfast that we thought was for the invitees. Halfway through this mostly silent meal, a waiter came over and told us that the food was only for hotel guests. Whoops. In the smoothest of moves, my host dad paid the waiter and kept eating his ham and cheese croissant. A few other of my host parent's friends came and sat with us and I found myself deeply engrossed in a conversation about how fantastic the city of Las Vegas is and how awesome the United States government was.
We finally went in to the room where the event was set up. It looked exactly like a business conference crammed into a small space. Pepin (my host dad) and I squeezed into one of the narrow rows and sat down. A few minutes later an annoyingly bouncy man came out in front and began explaining the event. His voice sounded like that of a mid-grade car salesman and gave me the impression I was about to be swindled into buying something I didn't know I wanted. There were five other "graduates" and the first woman began her presentation. With a dance. The entire audience was urged to stand up and follow along as the Sims-looking dancers on the screen did a series of increasingly humiliating dance moves. I glanced sideways at Pepin and knew that neither of us had any intention of losing that much dignity so early in the morning. After an eternity, everyone sat down and the woman continued her presentation.
Why was this such great human theatre? Well my friends, after the woman had finished, the same bouncy man came out and began publicly critiquing what she had done. Essentially, he constructively hoed her life. Then one of the other "judges"(there were three of them, I assume the teachers of the life coaching class)came out and did the same thing. At that moment I was so glad I had no emotional connection to the potential embarrassment of any of these people and upon realizing it, the whole event became hilarious.
When we broke for lunch I told Pepin that I had to be somewhere in an hour and he patted me on the back and told me I was fine to leave. There was almost a sense of "save yourself" in his voice. So I bee lined past the food (which looked dank)and headed for the exit. Walked a block, caught the 10 line home and then went for a 7 mile run.
If I think about it,not a bad Sunday at all.
-j
Friday, May 18, 2012
and in the end it's all about having fun isn't it?
This afternoon, this cold soggy rainy afternoon, my Visual Arts class piled in a van and went on a guided tour of some of the street art in Buenos Aires. For those who know me, you know that even the mention of street art makes my heart beat faster so even though it was a crappy day, I was still enamored by the rich luscious creative beautiful color disturbing thought-provoking whimsical street art I saw. The art ranged from murals to stencils to tags, combinations of them all. We learned about the artists and their histories, what materials they favored, the reasons behind their style. Something that our guide said stuck with me. She said, "...and in the end, it's all about getting your friends together and having fun, isn't it?" It's so simple and yet it's one of the truest things I've heard about art and what it means.
Art is...about having fun :)
-j
Art is...about having fun :)
-j
Sunday, May 13, 2012
living in an in-between
With roughly six weeks(!) left in Argentina, I've been taking stock of what I've done so far, what I want to do and how I'm feeling about everything now that time seems to be ticking down. I'll be the first to admit, Buenos Aires wasn't my first choice of a place to study abroad but I'm very glad I chose it. I have grown a lot in my time here and know that I'll only keep building on those changes once I'm home. It's hard to explain how I feel about being here but the best way I've come up with is that: I'm glad I'm here and I'm doing my best to get the most out of my time here but when the time is over I will be ready to go home. I know that this is where I am supposed to be right now and the same is true for when I go back to Ann Arbor.
Even this far into my time in BA, I feel like I am floating between two worlds, my world here in BA and my world in Michigan. Sometimes I feel frustrated, as though I'm not fully present in either of them and I have to remind myself that there is a time and a place for everything and right now is my time to BE in BsAs.
As this is Mother's Day, I'll close by saying that I could not be here without my mother's love, patience and support. She knows how to hold my hand and make me smile even from a world away. Te quiero mucho!
-j
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
"inhalo.....y exhalo....."-yoga in buenos aires
A few weeks ago, I was at dinner with my host mom and got talking about yoga and the Yoga Park. She said I could take classes at the same place she does if I wanted and she'd help me register the next day. For $130 pesos(about $30US)I got a month of yoga classes twice a week and anyone who knows the average price of a single group yoga class in the states knows that this is crazy cheap. I've been going for the last two weeks and so far, I've been the only person in class. Which means I'm basically getting private yoga lessons.
The instructor can't say my name properly so in yoga class, I'm Victoria (my middle name). She's a very calm middle-aged woman named Adriana who has been wonderfully patient with me. The instructions are always in Spanish and I'm able to understand almost everything Adriana says. It's been a fun way to learn some new Spanish vocab-a lot of body part names and motions. It helps that she demonstrates a lot of the exercises but there are times when I won't change a position because I didn't understand what she's said and she'll calmly correct me or say it a different way.
The class practices a form of yoga called Ashtanga which is very calm and low-key, focusing on breathing, posture and flexibility. It's a different cup of tea than the much more dynamic Hatha yoga I was introduced to at the Yoga Park. Although I think I prefer Hatha between the two simply because as a runner, I am used to very dynamic and physical exercise, practicing Ashtanga is helping me to slow down and think about different aspects of my mind and body that I don't when I'm running. Realizing how my breathing changes when I am carrying more stress is something I would probably never notice otherwise. Happy happy, namaste namaste.
Flash forward to today's class. I showed up a few minutes late meaning I was right on time. In Argentina, show up on time and people will look at you funny. Once again I was the only person in my class. Adriana asked me if I needed to borrow a pair of socks (she had a few clean pairs in her bag) but I thanked her and said I was fine. We began our session with the guided relaxation and I could feel the subconscious stress in my body start to shake out and burn off like some kind of early-morning stress fog. A few minutes later, we were doing an exercise where you lay on your back, pull your legs into your chest and grabbing the tops of your knees, you slowly rotate your legs in a circle. You would think this is an easy thing to do; lay down, move legs in a circle. But apparently there are a number of ways one can do this wrong. Almost every time I do this exercise, Adriana makes a small correction. Either my legs need to be a little wider apart or my torso shouldn't be moving, today it was my lower back coming too far off the mat. Even though I understand most everything she says, it can be tricky to get it quite right. The motions and positions are so subtle and specific that even in English I think it'd take me a few times to get the correct form down. It's always a humbling moment when I don't understand something simple and have to be told again.
Towards the end of the session, Adriana offered me a light blanket in case I was cold. Why the multiple offerings of blankets and socks? Because in the last few days, the weather here has turned a lot colder, from mid-80s to mid-60s and while I'm kind of enjoying the change,for porteños, it might as well be Siberia. I politely declined the blanket, explaining that this weather wasn't cold for me and that where I'm from, it snows most of the winter. I've discovered, when trying to convey the difference in Michigan weather/temperature to an Argentine, telling them you get lots of snow in the winter usually does the trick.
I left the class feeling calmer, stretchier and happy that finally, my high tolerance for cold weather is at least somewhat useful.
Patagonia on Friday-shoooop
-j
The instructor can't say my name properly so in yoga class, I'm Victoria (my middle name). She's a very calm middle-aged woman named Adriana who has been wonderfully patient with me. The instructions are always in Spanish and I'm able to understand almost everything Adriana says. It's been a fun way to learn some new Spanish vocab-a lot of body part names and motions. It helps that she demonstrates a lot of the exercises but there are times when I won't change a position because I didn't understand what she's said and she'll calmly correct me or say it a different way.
The class practices a form of yoga called Ashtanga which is very calm and low-key, focusing on breathing, posture and flexibility. It's a different cup of tea than the much more dynamic Hatha yoga I was introduced to at the Yoga Park. Although I think I prefer Hatha between the two simply because as a runner, I am used to very dynamic and physical exercise, practicing Ashtanga is helping me to slow down and think about different aspects of my mind and body that I don't when I'm running. Realizing how my breathing changes when I am carrying more stress is something I would probably never notice otherwise. Happy happy, namaste namaste.
Flash forward to today's class. I showed up a few minutes late meaning I was right on time. In Argentina, show up on time and people will look at you funny. Once again I was the only person in my class. Adriana asked me if I needed to borrow a pair of socks (she had a few clean pairs in her bag) but I thanked her and said I was fine. We began our session with the guided relaxation and I could feel the subconscious stress in my body start to shake out and burn off like some kind of early-morning stress fog. A few minutes later, we were doing an exercise where you lay on your back, pull your legs into your chest and grabbing the tops of your knees, you slowly rotate your legs in a circle. You would think this is an easy thing to do; lay down, move legs in a circle. But apparently there are a number of ways one can do this wrong. Almost every time I do this exercise, Adriana makes a small correction. Either my legs need to be a little wider apart or my torso shouldn't be moving, today it was my lower back coming too far off the mat. Even though I understand most everything she says, it can be tricky to get it quite right. The motions and positions are so subtle and specific that even in English I think it'd take me a few times to get the correct form down. It's always a humbling moment when I don't understand something simple and have to be told again.
Towards the end of the session, Adriana offered me a light blanket in case I was cold. Why the multiple offerings of blankets and socks? Because in the last few days, the weather here has turned a lot colder, from mid-80s to mid-60s and while I'm kind of enjoying the change,for porteños, it might as well be Siberia. I politely declined the blanket, explaining that this weather wasn't cold for me and that where I'm from, it snows most of the winter. I've discovered, when trying to convey the difference in Michigan weather/temperature to an Argentine, telling them you get lots of snow in the winter usually does the trick.
I left the class feeling calmer, stretchier and happy that finally, my high tolerance for cold weather is at least somewhat useful.
Patagonia on Friday-shoooop
-j
Sunday, April 22, 2012
art projects, underground music shows and alfajores:puro porteño
Entonces..
Yesterday afternoon I met Chelsea at the Recoleta feria to be the wing woman in her quest for a leather bag. It was one of the first days that truly felt like it was autumn and the break in humidity and high 80s weather was fine with me. Of the ferias I've been to, I've been to San Telmo twice and Recoleta about 4 times(it's a ten minute walk from my house)and between the two I like the layout of Recoleta better. It winds and loops and sprawls enough that people are not forced to explore its vendors like a strange sort of mass processional.
We began looking for her bag and almost immediately I saw a man selling beaded bracelets and necklaces. A blue bracelet caught my eye and when it comes to the color blue, I'm like a moth to a flame. Price was $25 pesos but I sweet-talked him down a little to $20. I then gave Chelsea permission to physically restrain me if I tried to buy anything else. We kept walking and found the vendor selling the leather bags she had seen before but the bag she wanted had been sold already. Tragic stuff. So we wandered around some more and saw some pieces of paper and drawings taped up on a big sheet-metal dividing wall just behind a row of vendors' booths. After a half minute of observing, I decided it looked like some kind of project that was (hopefully) open to the public. So we walked over and asked a young woman with a clipboard and paper what the dealio was and she told us it was an art project that her and another woman were doing for their class at UBA(University of Buenos Aires). Basically, they gave you a piece of blank paper to draw whatever you wanted to and afterwards they would ask you a few questions about what you drew and why. A free chance to draw whatever I want in the middle of a park? IN THERE like swimwear.
Chelsea and I grabbed some paint, water and brushes and started on our masterpiece which had no real theme or direction. There were a few cans of spraypaint and I kid you not, I lamented the fact I didn't have any stencils on me. Definitely going to knock out a few and keep them in the bolsa when I go wandering around. I painted the FOKUS eye and added "Arte es..." below it, then threw in the sun, some clouds and ocean waves for good measure. Chelsea painted a cat and some other dopeness I can't quite recall. While we were cementing our reputations as the next Picassos, a woman looking like Penny Lane 40 years of grass,pastillas and band chasing later, came by the project and after briefly talking to one of the women in charge, grabbed a can of spraypaint and went to town on the dividing wall itself. One glance at the faces of the two women in charge told me that this wasn't exactly what they had in mind and probably (meaning definitely) wasn't legal. She graffiti'd something along the lines of "leave us be, let us be free". We finished painting and answered the questions they had for us-why did we paint what we did, what did we think about street art. Afterwards, we hit them up with our own "Art is.../Arte es..." project and they were very willing to participate. One of the women quickly pulled up her sleeve and showed us her very own "Art is..." tattoo. It was crazy cool to find someone who had that kind of ink!
It was starting to get dark and we were starting to get hungry so we went to Palermo and hit up a Mexican restaurant. There were so much color on every square inch of the place that it was like a visual sucker-punch. Yummy yummy cheesy quesadillas and tacos hit the spot. If only they'd had jarritos.
Plan for the evening was a music show at the house of someone we knew in Buenos Aires. We were told to arrive around 9:30 and got there at 10p. We were mad early and Little Dragon was quietly hanging on the airwaves. Eventually more people came and the music started. Two acts played and while I liked both, the second act really went in. During the break, Chelsea and I talked to some of the musicians and collected some pretty great "Arte es..." phrases and photos.
After the music had winded down we hung around for a while and chatted with the musicians. All of them were independent musicians and artists and as party favors were passed around they gave us the heads up on a lot of great, off-the-beaten-boliche path places and people. As we headed out, Earth Wind and Fire's "September" came on the stereo-the vibe of the whole night was very chill and silly and warm and I'm excited about digging deeper into the underground art/music world of BA.
Woke up craving alfajores like nobody's business.
This concludes another random snippet of my life in Buenos Aires.
Over and out, amigos.
-j
Yesterday afternoon I met Chelsea at the Recoleta feria to be the wing woman in her quest for a leather bag. It was one of the first days that truly felt like it was autumn and the break in humidity and high 80s weather was fine with me. Of the ferias I've been to, I've been to San Telmo twice and Recoleta about 4 times(it's a ten minute walk from my house)and between the two I like the layout of Recoleta better. It winds and loops and sprawls enough that people are not forced to explore its vendors like a strange sort of mass processional.
We began looking for her bag and almost immediately I saw a man selling beaded bracelets and necklaces. A blue bracelet caught my eye and when it comes to the color blue, I'm like a moth to a flame. Price was $25 pesos but I sweet-talked him down a little to $20. I then gave Chelsea permission to physically restrain me if I tried to buy anything else. We kept walking and found the vendor selling the leather bags she had seen before but the bag she wanted had been sold already. Tragic stuff. So we wandered around some more and saw some pieces of paper and drawings taped up on a big sheet-metal dividing wall just behind a row of vendors' booths. After a half minute of observing, I decided it looked like some kind of project that was (hopefully) open to the public. So we walked over and asked a young woman with a clipboard and paper what the dealio was and she told us it was an art project that her and another woman were doing for their class at UBA(University of Buenos Aires). Basically, they gave you a piece of blank paper to draw whatever you wanted to and afterwards they would ask you a few questions about what you drew and why. A free chance to draw whatever I want in the middle of a park? IN THERE like swimwear.
Chelsea and I grabbed some paint, water and brushes and started on our masterpiece which had no real theme or direction. There were a few cans of spraypaint and I kid you not, I lamented the fact I didn't have any stencils on me. Definitely going to knock out a few and keep them in the bolsa when I go wandering around. I painted the FOKUS eye and added "Arte es..." below it, then threw in the sun, some clouds and ocean waves for good measure. Chelsea painted a cat and some other dopeness I can't quite recall. While we were cementing our reputations as the next Picassos, a woman looking like Penny Lane 40 years of grass,pastillas and band chasing later, came by the project and after briefly talking to one of the women in charge, grabbed a can of spraypaint and went to town on the dividing wall itself. One glance at the faces of the two women in charge told me that this wasn't exactly what they had in mind and probably (meaning definitely) wasn't legal. She graffiti'd something along the lines of "leave us be, let us be free". We finished painting and answered the questions they had for us-why did we paint what we did, what did we think about street art. Afterwards, we hit them up with our own "Art is.../Arte es..." project and they were very willing to participate. One of the women quickly pulled up her sleeve and showed us her very own "Art is..." tattoo. It was crazy cool to find someone who had that kind of ink!
It was starting to get dark and we were starting to get hungry so we went to Palermo and hit up a Mexican restaurant. There were so much color on every square inch of the place that it was like a visual sucker-punch. Yummy yummy cheesy quesadillas and tacos hit the spot. If only they'd had jarritos.
Plan for the evening was a music show at the house of someone we knew in Buenos Aires. We were told to arrive around 9:30 and got there at 10p. We were mad early and Little Dragon was quietly hanging on the airwaves. Eventually more people came and the music started. Two acts played and while I liked both, the second act really went in. During the break, Chelsea and I talked to some of the musicians and collected some pretty great "Arte es..." phrases and photos.
After the music had winded down we hung around for a while and chatted with the musicians. All of them were independent musicians and artists and as party favors were passed around they gave us the heads up on a lot of great, off-the-beaten-boliche path places and people. As we headed out, Earth Wind and Fire's "September" came on the stereo-the vibe of the whole night was very chill and silly and warm and I'm excited about digging deeper into the underground art/music world of BA.
Woke up craving alfajores like nobody's business.
This concludes another random snippet of my life in Buenos Aires.
Over and out, amigos.
-j
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)