The past few days have been great, and we've lucked out with the weather too. Our flight from Iguazu to Salta was only delayed about 25 minutes, which I would consider a win when flying with Aerolineas Argentinas. Salta is a large city of about 600,000 people with well-preserved Spanish architecture, and it's known for its "penas." A pena is a restaurant with traditional music, singing and dancing, that also serves traditional food. We all tried locro, which is a thick stew of beans, corn, squash, beef, pork, and a new type of meat - vicuna, which is similar to a llama. It had a delicious flavor, but it also had the innards/intestines of some animal, which weren't my favorite part, although overall it was a really tasty dish. Some other new foods we've tried are various types of empanadas, and humitas - a thick cornmeal concoction with onions, spices and cheese that is cooked on the stove, then wrapped in corn husks and boiled. I might try a quinoa burger for dinner tonight.
Yesterday we went to a museum of ethnic history that had various artifacts from different tribes native to South America. One interesting aspect about this museum was that it displayed the ancient artifacts many times along with the modern version, so you could see the changes over time. There were all sorts of clay jugs, jewelry, textiles, etc. Some of the religious paintings and figures had the faces of indigenous people, which I hadn't seen much before. But the most memorable part of the museum was our tour guide, Diego. He was very enthusiastic about the museum's displays, (overly) frequently called us by name, constantly instructed us to look at things we were already looking at, and called us "my friends" at every possible opportunity. I think Mom appreciated his mannerisms a little more than I did. But he will definitely be remembered and quoted for many years, just like our favorite flight attendant ever, Anton, from 2009.
The day before yesterday we went to an anthropological museum that had actual Incan mummies that were discovered in nearby mountains. The Inca didn't intentionally mummify the deceased like the Egyptians did, but human sacrifices were a common practice. Young children (6-7 years old) were offered to the gods by being buried alive, and in the arid climate their bodies were preserved for centuries until they were recently discovered. You might not typically think of the Inca as having lived in Argentina, but they did inhabit the northwestern part where the Andes are.
It's been a lot of fun having Mom and Dad here. Despite being in Argentina it feels like just a normal family vacation - Mom identifies all the plants and flowers, analyzes all the rocks, looks at arts and crafts, and enthusiastically visits museums; Dad worries about bugs, enjoys the food, patiently tolerates craft markets and museums, and tries not to get carsick. And I get to be the interpreter/Spanish teacher. Mom's Spanish is coming along rather well, at least for reading or asking a question, but understanding the answers to questions is more difficult. Dad's Spanish...is better than it was when he got here...
The scenery here is absolutely stunning. I've been trying to get Mom to do a guest post because I think she would describe it with more specifics than I could.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Friday, March 28, 2014
Greetings from Jess's Dad
We are in Salta now. Jess and Margie are busy finding a hostel or hotel for us for the last two nights of our trip, in Buenos Aires. They are working on it together, since two heads are better than one. Apparently, a third one does not help, so they encouraged me to come out here and use one of the hostel computers to write a "Guest Blog."
One of the strange things about the southern hemisphere is that North and South have changed places: When you are traveling toward the sun, you are heading North. But East and West are still where they always were. It isn't that hard to get used to it. But the toilet paper is a different story.
If you have read Jess's post about the bingo card, you will understand that I am proud to say I have crossed off my half of the toilet paper box (Margie is still working on hers). By the way, don't believe what Jess said about me being paranoid. Margie (if she ever gets finished doing important things and gets around to posting something on this blog) will probably support Jess's claim that I am paranoid -- which pretty well proves that the two of them are conspiring behind my back to make me look bad.
But about the toilet paper bingo box: Another strange thing about the southern hemisphere, or at least Argentina, is that toilet paper goes into the trash can, not the toilet bowl. After using it, I mean. Sound interesting? If you'd like to try it at home, choose a time when nobody is watching. For the toilet paper box on the bingo card, we have to remember to not throw any tp into the bowl for a full day. And I have succeeded! For a full day, every piece went right into the can. Trash can, that is.
Another bingo box is to see 5 stray dogs within eyesight at one time. We have completed that one. There are dogs all over the place here -- they lay in the street or on the sidewalk or in the park, looking dead, or they just hang around, minding their own business. This morning, while hiking in the national park rain forest near here, two dogs joined us part of the way, now and then, sometimes together, sometimes separately. Also along the path, we saw two horses, unattended, apparently just chilling out on the hiking trail. Margie reminded us that when we walk past them, we should make noise if we approach them from behind or else they might get spooked and kick us. I'm not sure why Margie knows how to approach a horse from behind, but where I come from, if you see two stray horses in the road, you turn around and walk back where you came from.
Well, they've finished booking the room in B.A. And I've been told that if I go walk through a few museums with them for a while (probably a few hours or more), we can go eat dinner. So, I'll have to stop here for now.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
The first 48 hours
Well, my parents made it fine to Buenos Aires, got from the international airport to downtown, wandered around for a few hours, took a bus to the domestic airport, and arrived in Posadas as planned. Not bad for two folks in their 60's who speak hardly any Spanish and have never been to South America before!!! Well done!!
I was waiting for them at the airport. I had done a long translation work for a friend, so in exchange for that I suggested that instead of paying me, he could just take me to pick them up at the airport. Dad rode shotgun on the way to San Ignacio (a little over an hour away), and he got a nice introduction to cultural differences in driving habits. They tend to drive rather quickly here, change lanes without signaling, pull out in front of cars, and brake at the last minute. But we made it back just fine, and my coworkers had put a nice vase of flowers in Mom and Dad's room - and of course Mom was able to identify which flower it was.
The next day we went for a walk on a nice rural road with a beautiful view of the river and Paraguay. Mom and Dad found the 85-degree heat to be sweltering after the chilly PA winter; I found it quite a pleasant improvement from the frequent 100-degree summer days. In the afternoon Mom went on a nice nature walk in the park, and they both went to the Sound and Light show at the ruins in the evening. The next morning (yesterday) they went back to the ruins for a guided tour, and then we took the bus here to Iguazu. They are at the waterfalls now, and I successfully crossed the border and came back.
My trip across the border was simple and uneventful. Nevertheless, I went prepared with bribe money in pesos and dollars, my Argentina cell phone and my Brazil SIM card, contact info for the hostel and a few other people in case I needed to make any calls, and a few possible stories cooking in my mind in case a little theatrics might help my case if it came down to begging to get back across. But when I got to the immigration official I just gave him my passport and proof of having paid the reciprocity fee and he didn't even comment on the fact that I had exceeded my time here or give me a warning.
Now in case you have never traveled with my dad, or even met him, let me tell you that he can occasionally be inclined to have certain paranoid or mistrusting tendencies. For example, one time he got a receipt from dinner, and when walking around after dinner he tore it up and threw it in different trash cans around town because it had the last 4 digits of his card number, so it would be too risky to throw it away in one piece. So you can imagine how that habit might manifest itself here. And in case you can't imagine it, let me tell you about it. Last night when we were going to bed in our locked, private room at a hostel where you have to buzz to be let inside he was concerned that he might forget to lock his suitcase (that was in our private, locked room) before going to bed. In the hostel where I worked in San Ignacio (you know, the one where my coworkers thoughtfully decorated their room and where I know everyone) they seemed concerned about leaving money and passports in their locked suitcases in their locked room, and expressed interest in carrying said items in hidden money belts. (I think I locked my room at the hostel about 2 times in the past 2 months.)
Luckily, due to 101 unnecessary precautions, nothing has been stolen so far, and everything has gone perfectly. The owner of the hostel where I worked graciously let them stay there at no cost, and we've booked places to stay for most of the rest of the trip. The hostel I booked here in Iguazu may be a bit too hostel-y for them, but the other places seem to be a step or two up. I'm excited for the rest of the trip because everyone we've done so far has been things I've already done, so I'm excited for something new!
I was waiting for them at the airport. I had done a long translation work for a friend, so in exchange for that I suggested that instead of paying me, he could just take me to pick them up at the airport. Dad rode shotgun on the way to San Ignacio (a little over an hour away), and he got a nice introduction to cultural differences in driving habits. They tend to drive rather quickly here, change lanes without signaling, pull out in front of cars, and brake at the last minute. But we made it back just fine, and my coworkers had put a nice vase of flowers in Mom and Dad's room - and of course Mom was able to identify which flower it was.
The next day we went for a walk on a nice rural road with a beautiful view of the river and Paraguay. Mom and Dad found the 85-degree heat to be sweltering after the chilly PA winter; I found it quite a pleasant improvement from the frequent 100-degree summer days. In the afternoon Mom went on a nice nature walk in the park, and they both went to the Sound and Light show at the ruins in the evening. The next morning (yesterday) they went back to the ruins for a guided tour, and then we took the bus here to Iguazu. They are at the waterfalls now, and I successfully crossed the border and came back.
My trip across the border was simple and uneventful. Nevertheless, I went prepared with bribe money in pesos and dollars, my Argentina cell phone and my Brazil SIM card, contact info for the hostel and a few other people in case I needed to make any calls, and a few possible stories cooking in my mind in case a little theatrics might help my case if it came down to begging to get back across. But when I got to the immigration official I just gave him my passport and proof of having paid the reciprocity fee and he didn't even comment on the fact that I had exceeded my time here or give me a warning.
Now in case you have never traveled with my dad, or even met him, let me tell you that he can occasionally be inclined to have certain paranoid or mistrusting tendencies. For example, one time he got a receipt from dinner, and when walking around after dinner he tore it up and threw it in different trash cans around town because it had the last 4 digits of his card number, so it would be too risky to throw it away in one piece. So you can imagine how that habit might manifest itself here. And in case you can't imagine it, let me tell you about it. Last night when we were going to bed in our locked, private room at a hostel where you have to buzz to be let inside he was concerned that he might forget to lock his suitcase (that was in our private, locked room) before going to bed. In the hostel where I worked in San Ignacio (you know, the one where my coworkers thoughtfully decorated their room and where I know everyone) they seemed concerned about leaving money and passports in their locked suitcases in their locked room, and expressed interest in carrying said items in hidden money belts. (I think I locked my room at the hostel about 2 times in the past 2 months.)
Luckily, due to 101 unnecessary precautions, nothing has been stolen so far, and everything has gone perfectly. The owner of the hostel where I worked graciously let them stay there at no cost, and we've booked places to stay for most of the rest of the trip. The hostel I booked here in Iguazu may be a bit too hostel-y for them, but the other places seem to be a step or two up. I'm excited for the rest of the trip because everyone we've done so far has been things I've already done, so I'm excited for something new!
Sunday, March 23, 2014
The BINGO card
The long-awaited moment in which I reveal the activities on my parents' BINGO card has finally arrived! There is a 99.98% chance that they are in Argentina at this very moment, but since we are the old-fashioned type who don't have smart phones that can not be confirmed at this time. Check back later for a guest post from them, which is one of their boxes on the BINGO card!
Some other boxes include:
-see 5 stray dogs at once
-remember to throw all your toilet paper in the trash without forgetting all day
-see 3 unsafe motorcycle practices in 1 day
-go to high altitude (2500+ meters)
-see a new animal
-see a protest/sign related to the Malvinas Islands (Falkland Islands)
-dance
-write on my blog
-post facebook updates
Then there are the food/drink related ones:
-empanadas
-cookout (asado)
-mate
-wine
-steak
-dulce de leche
And, finally, there are the speaking tasks, which involves them attempting to speak some Spanish:
-ask a price
-say hello and goodbye
-order food
-ask for directions
-say a rehearsed phrase
Hopefully THEY can keep you all updated on their progress in BINGO - which, by the way, is blackout bingo, not just 5-in-a-row.
Some other boxes include:
-see 5 stray dogs at once
-remember to throw all your toilet paper in the trash without forgetting all day
-see 3 unsafe motorcycle practices in 1 day
-go to high altitude (2500+ meters)
-see a new animal
-see a protest/sign related to the Malvinas Islands (Falkland Islands)
-dance
-write on my blog
-post facebook updates
Then there are the food/drink related ones:
-empanadas
-cookout (asado)
-mate
-wine
-steak
-dulce de leche
And, finally, there are the speaking tasks, which involves them attempting to speak some Spanish:
-ask a price
-say hello and goodbye
-order food
-ask for directions
-say a rehearsed phrase
Hopefully THEY can keep you all updated on their progress in BINGO - which, by the way, is blackout bingo, not just 5-in-a-row.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Beginning of the Month lines
I never really knew how evolved bill-paying was in the US until I saw a less-evolved model to compare it to. In the US I, like many middle-class Americans, had many monthly bills to pay: electricity, gym, cable/internet, dental insurance, visa, discover, etc. And I spent about 1 minute per month paying all of them thanks to a little something we call automatic scheduled transfers.
Automatic scheduled transfers are not really a thing here. Instead, people wait in line for exorbitant amounts of time at various locations in the beginning of each month to pay all their bills. The fun starts at the bank, where lines can be half a block long for a few days, as everyone needs to first withdraw cash to be able to then wait in line everywhere else. After that everyone rushes to pay their electricity, water, and phone bills, and whatever other monthly payments they need to make. And each of these payments comes with a nice line-wait as well - 45 minutes might be standard, just to give you an idea.
Since exercising restraint in making smart spending decisions isn't a strength of many people here, they have wisely developed the necessary habit of withdrawing small amounts of money at various times throughout the month. If they withdrew it all at once, they would likely spend it all at once. This means several trips to the bank - of which there is only one in San Ignacio, and it has only one ATM for the 11,000 inhabitants. Despite taking these precautions, many people often run out of money a bit before the end of the month anyway.
Automatic scheduled transfers are not really a thing here. Instead, people wait in line for exorbitant amounts of time at various locations in the beginning of each month to pay all their bills. The fun starts at the bank, where lines can be half a block long for a few days, as everyone needs to first withdraw cash to be able to then wait in line everywhere else. After that everyone rushes to pay their electricity, water, and phone bills, and whatever other monthly payments they need to make. And each of these payments comes with a nice line-wait as well - 45 minutes might be standard, just to give you an idea.
Since exercising restraint in making smart spending decisions isn't a strength of many people here, they have wisely developed the necessary habit of withdrawing small amounts of money at various times throughout the month. If they withdrew it all at once, they would likely spend it all at once. This means several trips to the bank - of which there is only one in San Ignacio, and it has only one ATM for the 11,000 inhabitants. Despite taking these precautions, many people often run out of money a bit before the end of the month anyway.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
ANOTHER rainy day
I should have known that it would happen at some point. And if it was going to happen, I should have know it would be on a rainy day. And since it hadn't happened yet, and today was likely my last rainy day I should have known it would happen today...
I was showing some guests to their room - a young German couple who requested 2 beds in a shared dorm room. The room already had a French couple staying in it, but I wasn't sure if they were in the room or not. I knocked. No answer. I jiggled the doorknob. Locked. I guess they're not here. I keyed in to show the Germans their room...and let's just say the French couple WAS there.
But if that hadn't happened I would have had absolutely nothing to blog about, since we are now in day 3 of an almost-constant torrential downpour. I have stopped reading about the missing airplane and switched back to reading controversial articles and commentaries about white belly dancers and appropriation again.
I have run out of productive things to do. I only need one health insurance plan. My parents only need one bingo card. The WCPSS teaching jobs aren't updated on Wednesdays. I played some spider solitaire and drank mate. I HOPE IT STOPS RAINING TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!
I was showing some guests to their room - a young German couple who requested 2 beds in a shared dorm room. The room already had a French couple staying in it, but I wasn't sure if they were in the room or not. I knocked. No answer. I jiggled the doorknob. Locked. I guess they're not here. I keyed in to show the Germans their room...and let's just say the French couple WAS there.
But if that hadn't happened I would have had absolutely nothing to blog about, since we are now in day 3 of an almost-constant torrential downpour. I have stopped reading about the missing airplane and switched back to reading controversial articles and commentaries about white belly dancers and appropriation again.
I have run out of productive things to do. I only need one health insurance plan. My parents only need one bingo card. The WCPSS teaching jobs aren't updated on Wednesdays. I played some spider solitaire and drank mate. I HOPE IT STOPS RAINING TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Being Productive
It's been raining a lot the past several days, so I've been productively passing my time by doing the following things:
1. I signed up for Obamacare!
2. I've been working on my parents' BINGO card. I'll publish it once their on their way here, just to keep them in suspense.
3. I've been working on my resume and looking for summer and school year jobs. If anyone in Raleigh knows anything random and temporary I can do for the summer let me know!!
4. I've been drinking a lot of mate and eating various pastries the cook has been making this week.
5. I've been skyping and catching up with various friends. There used to be a 2-hour time difference with the east coast, which meant that when I finished work at midnight it was only 10pm, so my friends were still up. But now midnight here is 11pm, and everyone is asleep, which means I have to get up early and Skype them on their way to work.
6. I just started looking at apartments/townhomes/houses for rent in Raleigh for when I get back. Emily, Joe and I are looking for a 3-bedroom near 40 if anyone has any suggestions!
7. I've been reading about the missing plane. Some people here seem to think the US is behind it (as we are behind all that goes wrong in the world). Possible motives - 1. We hijacked the plane, will blame the Taliban, and go back to war in the Middle East. 2. We hijacked the plane because we owe China a lot of money, will somehow use the plane to destroy China, therefore eliminating our debt. 3. We hijacked the plane for some reason relating to the Crimea/Russia conflict since we hate Russia and want to destroy them.
1. I signed up for Obamacare!
2. I've been working on my parents' BINGO card. I'll publish it once their on their way here, just to keep them in suspense.
3. I've been working on my resume and looking for summer and school year jobs. If anyone in Raleigh knows anything random and temporary I can do for the summer let me know!!
4. I've been drinking a lot of mate and eating various pastries the cook has been making this week.
5. I've been skyping and catching up with various friends. There used to be a 2-hour time difference with the east coast, which meant that when I finished work at midnight it was only 10pm, so my friends were still up. But now midnight here is 11pm, and everyone is asleep, which means I have to get up early and Skype them on their way to work.
6. I just started looking at apartments/townhomes/houses for rent in Raleigh for when I get back. Emily, Joe and I are looking for a 3-bedroom near 40 if anyone has any suggestions!
7. I've been reading about the missing plane. Some people here seem to think the US is behind it (as we are behind all that goes wrong in the world). Possible motives - 1. We hijacked the plane, will blame the Taliban, and go back to war in the Middle East. 2. We hijacked the plane because we owe China a lot of money, will somehow use the plane to destroy China, therefore eliminating our debt. 3. We hijacked the plane for some reason relating to the Crimea/Russia conflict since we hate Russia and want to destroy them.
Monday, March 17, 2014
A rainy day
Wow! When the visitors from NC came two days I thought it was a small world, but today I found out that it's even smaller than I had imagined. Today two guests from Pennsylvania came here, one from Philly, and the other from none other than good ol' Lancaster!! It's kind of random that in my first two months here only 3 Americans came, but in the past week there have been 7.
There was a giant storm here last night, and then it rained all day today. I woke up several times during the night from the thunder, wind, and pounding rain. Even though I desperately needed to go grocery shopping today, I had no desire to venture out in the torrential downpour, so I invented a rice, cucumber and pepper dish to eat. I had a lazy day today - woke up at 11, played cards with Silvia, swept my room, ate criollitos (a pastry) that the cook made, took a hot shower, and read a little before work. As soon as my shift started it stopped raining.
Lili and Romina, the mom and little girl I used to babysit, came by the hostel to visit when I was working. Romina is just so cute, and loves trying to help. When people came to get their room keys or ask for a menu for the restaurant I would give it to Romina first and she would eagerly take it to the guest. She was snacking on some bread here and left a mountain of crumbs around her. When she finished she looked at the mess and said "uh-oh!" I got a broom and she attempted to help me clean up. Another hobby she has recently developed is happily laying on the floor and kicking her feet and making loud noises, but in a very content way. And when it's time to go she has mastered the art of waving and blowing adorable little kisses.
Rainy/dreary days are always the best for the restaurant at the hostel because no one wants to leave. Right now there five tables of such a variety of people. One table has four young women - 2 Canadian and 2 French - drinking a few bottles of wine with their dinner, talking loudly in French and at one point they laughed until they cried. Another table has an Argentinean family - mom, dad, 5-year-old boy, and grandma - eating quietly, and the boy keeps watching the French-speaking table and looking intrigued. The next table has an older Argentinean couple who have stayed at the hostel before, and who are having a nice conversation. After that is the table with the two girls from PA, along with a Danish girl. The final table has the solo travelers - a guy from Cordoba (Arg), a woman from Buenos Aires, and a German woman who speaks decent Spanish. The dining room/reception is abuzz with a happy chatter!
There was a giant storm here last night, and then it rained all day today. I woke up several times during the night from the thunder, wind, and pounding rain. Even though I desperately needed to go grocery shopping today, I had no desire to venture out in the torrential downpour, so I invented a rice, cucumber and pepper dish to eat. I had a lazy day today - woke up at 11, played cards with Silvia, swept my room, ate criollitos (a pastry) that the cook made, took a hot shower, and read a little before work. As soon as my shift started it stopped raining.
Lili and Romina, the mom and little girl I used to babysit, came by the hostel to visit when I was working. Romina is just so cute, and loves trying to help. When people came to get their room keys or ask for a menu for the restaurant I would give it to Romina first and she would eagerly take it to the guest. She was snacking on some bread here and left a mountain of crumbs around her. When she finished she looked at the mess and said "uh-oh!" I got a broom and she attempted to help me clean up. Another hobby she has recently developed is happily laying on the floor and kicking her feet and making loud noises, but in a very content way. And when it's time to go she has mastered the art of waving and blowing adorable little kisses.
Rainy/dreary days are always the best for the restaurant at the hostel because no one wants to leave. Right now there five tables of such a variety of people. One table has four young women - 2 Canadian and 2 French - drinking a few bottles of wine with their dinner, talking loudly in French and at one point they laughed until they cried. Another table has an Argentinean family - mom, dad, 5-year-old boy, and grandma - eating quietly, and the boy keeps watching the French-speaking table and looking intrigued. The next table has an older Argentinean couple who have stayed at the hostel before, and who are having a nice conversation. After that is the table with the two girls from PA, along with a Danish girl. The final table has the solo travelers - a guy from Cordoba (Arg), a woman from Buenos Aires, and a German woman who speaks decent Spanish. The dining room/reception is abuzz with a happy chatter!
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Dancing
Dancing is an activity that requires both certain physical abilities as well as a certain musical awareness. Despite being quite capable in the first requirement, I am significantly lacking in the second. While I consider myself to have adequate skills in your typical American-style dancing of swaying and minimally moving your feet, my aptitude for learning any real dance that involves specific steps and moves while following the beat of the music is quite low. I enjoy attempting to learn new dances, but my efforts are usually rather unsuccessful, as I was reminded of again last night when we went to the club. Yesterday was my last Saturday here in San Ignacio before my parents come, and since I'll be traveling around for a while after their visit, I decided to take advantage of my last opportunity to go to Troya, the only club in San Ignacio, which is only open on Saturdays.
I always seem to have good luck that during Carnaval or on Saturdays really cool people who plan to go out are staying at the hostel. Last night I went out with an Israeli couple, one of the guys from North Carolina, and two of my friends from here. So my friends from here were trying to teach the rest of us how to dance, and luckily for me the other foreigners found the hip rolling and rapid foot movements to be just as challenging as I did. After a few shots of tequila though we all magically made significant improvements in our dance skills.
It was another late night for me. As I got back to the hostel at 6am the girl that was in charge of breakfast was just arriving.
In other news, I have also become quite proficient at lighting the wood-burning water heater that heats the water for the hostel. I think that has been the event of the week here.
I always seem to have good luck that during Carnaval or on Saturdays really cool people who plan to go out are staying at the hostel. Last night I went out with an Israeli couple, one of the guys from North Carolina, and two of my friends from here. So my friends from here were trying to teach the rest of us how to dance, and luckily for me the other foreigners found the hip rolling and rapid foot movements to be just as challenging as I did. After a few shots of tequila though we all magically made significant improvements in our dance skills.
It was another late night for me. As I got back to the hostel at 6am the girl that was in charge of breakfast was just arriving.
In other news, I have also become quite proficient at lighting the wood-burning water heater that heats the water for the hostel. I think that has been the event of the week here.
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Passing
Well here I was just having a normal Argentinian afternoon, drinking mate and watching soccer, when all of a sudden here come three visitors from North Carolina! This was significant for two reasons. 1 - North Carolina, what are the odds??? And 2 - This means I can no longer count the number of Americans that have stayed here this year on one hand (total now = 8).
Moving on, my topic for today is Passing. I remember reading a book for a history course I took about a young woman in the 1930's or 40's. She was half black, but had very light skin, and could pass for a tan white person, which had significant social advantages in this era. I think passing is an interesting concept, and one that I have tried to participate in at various times. Especially after coming back from Mozambique, sometimes I found being a white, English-speaking American to be rather boring and uninteresting and all too normal and average at times. Even though I do appreciate all the privileges that I have because of that, for some inexplicable reason I have always been fascinated by other cultures and languages. I remember when I was little - in elementary school - and we would go to the library my Mom used to make us get some non-fiction books. My go-to topics were books about other countries or about football - two interests that have stayed with me throughout the years!
When I came back from Moz I joined a Portuguese language group, and ended up meeting a bunch of really cool Brazilians. Whenever we would go out and speak Portuguese I liked that other people would assume I was foreign. I dyed my hair darker to boost my Brazilian-ness. I remember one time we went out in Raleigh and I ran into a Brazilian guy I knew. He yelled something to me about a Brazilian get-together, and another guy in the bar overheard him and later came over and was like, "So you're Brazilian..." I figured I'd never see him again so I didn't bother to correct him.
Partially related, I recently read an article by a middle-eastern woman called, "Why I hate white belly dancers." You can probably guess what it was about. Despite the aggressive tone, it did make some interesting points about how white people can embrace and participate in aspects of other cultures that they find exotic or desirable, but can then go back to being white and not face the discrimination or challenges that people from these cultures face on a daily basis. It made me think about how I like to pass for a Brazilian. When it suits me I can speak other languages, learn capoeira, and be perceived as exotic and interesting. But, when it's more convenient, I can be a native English speaker whose legality in the US isn't questioned, and whose motives for dating aren't presumed to be related to getting a green card.
So what's the appropriate balance between experiencing other cultures but not taking advantage of them? And if you find yourself in a situation of privilege, is it wrong to take advantage of that? I think it all comes down to respect. As long as you are respectfully participating in another culture you can't be faulted for wanting new experiences, learning new skills, or making new friends. It's unfortunate that not everyone has the same opportunities, and I think it's important to be aware of the privileges that we each have and why not everyone has them. But ultimately as long as you use your privileges responsibly, and do no harm to others in the process, you should take advantage of the opportunities that come your way.
Moving on, my topic for today is Passing. I remember reading a book for a history course I took about a young woman in the 1930's or 40's. She was half black, but had very light skin, and could pass for a tan white person, which had significant social advantages in this era. I think passing is an interesting concept, and one that I have tried to participate in at various times. Especially after coming back from Mozambique, sometimes I found being a white, English-speaking American to be rather boring and uninteresting and all too normal and average at times. Even though I do appreciate all the privileges that I have because of that, for some inexplicable reason I have always been fascinated by other cultures and languages. I remember when I was little - in elementary school - and we would go to the library my Mom used to make us get some non-fiction books. My go-to topics were books about other countries or about football - two interests that have stayed with me throughout the years!
When I came back from Moz I joined a Portuguese language group, and ended up meeting a bunch of really cool Brazilians. Whenever we would go out and speak Portuguese I liked that other people would assume I was foreign. I dyed my hair darker to boost my Brazilian-ness. I remember one time we went out in Raleigh and I ran into a Brazilian guy I knew. He yelled something to me about a Brazilian get-together, and another guy in the bar overheard him and later came over and was like, "So you're Brazilian..." I figured I'd never see him again so I didn't bother to correct him.
Partially related, I recently read an article by a middle-eastern woman called, "Why I hate white belly dancers." You can probably guess what it was about. Despite the aggressive tone, it did make some interesting points about how white people can embrace and participate in aspects of other cultures that they find exotic or desirable, but can then go back to being white and not face the discrimination or challenges that people from these cultures face on a daily basis. It made me think about how I like to pass for a Brazilian. When it suits me I can speak other languages, learn capoeira, and be perceived as exotic and interesting. But, when it's more convenient, I can be a native English speaker whose legality in the US isn't questioned, and whose motives for dating aren't presumed to be related to getting a green card.
So what's the appropriate balance between experiencing other cultures but not taking advantage of them? And if you find yourself in a situation of privilege, is it wrong to take advantage of that? I think it all comes down to respect. As long as you are respectfully participating in another culture you can't be faulted for wanting new experiences, learning new skills, or making new friends. It's unfortunate that not everyone has the same opportunities, and I think it's important to be aware of the privileges that we each have and why not everyone has them. But ultimately as long as you use your privileges responsibly, and do no harm to others in the process, you should take advantage of the opportunities that come your way.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Cultural Diplomatic Immunity
Sometimes when traveling or living overseas it's difficult to know when to embrace the local culture and where to draw the line. Sometimes these decisions are about relatively insignificant things - is it rude to show up late, or just plain crazy to show up on time? But sometimes they are really difficult choices - if you have a student who is your best friend's sibling do you let them pass even if they didn't earn a good grade? The obvious answer in the US would be "no," but that would easily be justified based on our code of ethics and a brief speech on integrity and preparing them for the future. What if the culturally appropriate solution would be to let them pass, and you are a guest in another culture? What if the culturally relevant interpretation of failing your friend's sibling would be that you don't care about them? And sometimes these decisions have nothing to do with you, but rather how you interpret the culture that you are in - is it fair to judge someone who is cheating on their husband or wife if that is a culturally normal thing to do?
The conclusion that I've come to is that rudeness and politeness and appropriateness, etc,, are all based on others' expectations. If your friends don't expect you to actually show up on time, then it's not rude to show up late. Time, aside from having a very scientific definition, also has a cultural one. But what if your friend actually expects you to change their sibling's grade? Maybe it's ok to sometimes let your cultural interpretation of "making the right choice" expand a little in another culture if you change a hard-earned D- to a C. (And let's be real, that happens in the US too, not based as much on requests but more so on (subconscious?) biases.) But if you're expected to change a slacker's F to an A, maybe it's ok to be culturally rude sometimes too. And what if couples in other cultures don't actually expect their partners to be faithful? If monogamy is part of a foreign culture that was forced upon them it seems unfair to judge them for not following this custom.
And even within the US this happens. A perfect example: the North and South and saying sir and ma'am. Being from the North, sir and ma'am were not part of my everyday speech, but rather terms used when playing dress-up and pretending to be royalty. These words had a connotation of extreme respect used only when addressing make-believe kings and queens, and people in the South just don't understand how out-of-place and socially awkward they are in the North. But in the South, saying "Yes ma'am," is the equivalent of saying "yes, please," in the North. It's simply an automatic, polite, affirmative response used whenever one might say "please" in the North, and has no association with extreme reverence or power.
But for some reason, Northerners generally seem to regard the use of sir and ma'am as foolish Southern speak, and resent incorporating it into their vocabulary, and feel awkward if someone calls them those words. Working in an elementary school in the South, I was constantly exposed to hearing people say ma'am and sir, and somehow this habit cracked its way into my everyday discourse. When called out on this peculiarity by fellow non-Southerners, I decided this was a good opportunity for a sociolinguistic self-evaluation. Why was I saying that and should I continue to let these pointlessly formal mini-words infiltrate my speech?
The answer is YES, I should. Because saying sir and ma'am is what you say in the South when you are a polite person. And as an elementary teacher who is a role model for young children, I think it would be inappropriate NOT to model proper English language manners to my ESL students, and in the South that involves saying ma'am and sir. In Mozambique politeness involved only giving and receiving objects with your right hand. No matter how trivial or insignificant something might seem, if I can choose between being polite and being neutral (or even unwittingly rude) in the community, it only makes sense to choose to be polite.
The conclusion that I've come to is that rudeness and politeness and appropriateness, etc,, are all based on others' expectations. If your friends don't expect you to actually show up on time, then it's not rude to show up late. Time, aside from having a very scientific definition, also has a cultural one. But what if your friend actually expects you to change their sibling's grade? Maybe it's ok to sometimes let your cultural interpretation of "making the right choice" expand a little in another culture if you change a hard-earned D- to a C. (And let's be real, that happens in the US too, not based as much on requests but more so on (subconscious?) biases.) But if you're expected to change a slacker's F to an A, maybe it's ok to be culturally rude sometimes too. And what if couples in other cultures don't actually expect their partners to be faithful? If monogamy is part of a foreign culture that was forced upon them it seems unfair to judge them for not following this custom.
And even within the US this happens. A perfect example: the North and South and saying sir and ma'am. Being from the North, sir and ma'am were not part of my everyday speech, but rather terms used when playing dress-up and pretending to be royalty. These words had a connotation of extreme respect used only when addressing make-believe kings and queens, and people in the South just don't understand how out-of-place and socially awkward they are in the North. But in the South, saying "Yes ma'am," is the equivalent of saying "yes, please," in the North. It's simply an automatic, polite, affirmative response used whenever one might say "please" in the North, and has no association with extreme reverence or power.
But for some reason, Northerners generally seem to regard the use of sir and ma'am as foolish Southern speak, and resent incorporating it into their vocabulary, and feel awkward if someone calls them those words. Working in an elementary school in the South, I was constantly exposed to hearing people say ma'am and sir, and somehow this habit cracked its way into my everyday discourse. When called out on this peculiarity by fellow non-Southerners, I decided this was a good opportunity for a sociolinguistic self-evaluation. Why was I saying that and should I continue to let these pointlessly formal mini-words infiltrate my speech?
The answer is YES, I should. Because saying sir and ma'am is what you say in the South when you are a polite person. And as an elementary teacher who is a role model for young children, I think it would be inappropriate NOT to model proper English language manners to my ESL students, and in the South that involves saying ma'am and sir. In Mozambique politeness involved only giving and receiving objects with your right hand. No matter how trivial or insignificant something might seem, if I can choose between being polite and being neutral (or even unwittingly rude) in the community, it only makes sense to choose to be polite.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Reading
The hostel has some great places to relax with a book. First of all, there are four hammocks hanging from some nice shade trees in the large courtyard of the hostel. When it rains we have to take the hammocks down so they don't get wet, which can be a challenge because some of the hooks are just at the height of my fingertips when I stand on tip-toes. But the bigger challenge is hanging the hammocks again because the hooks are attached to strings, and the strings get twisted, and are all different lengths, so if you don't hang the right hammock from the right pair of hooks they end up too high or too low. A few days ago I was helping Silvia hang the hammocks after a storm, and try as we might we just could not get all four of them to be at an appropriate height. Another coworker saw us struggling and came to assist us, laughing at our failed efforts, but she too ultimately failed. We ended up with 3 hammocks at a good level, and the other one - the blue one - ridiculously high. As our other coworkers noticed they kept coming by the reception and asking, "Who hung those hammocks?" "What? All three of you and you still couldn't get it right?" There have been quite a lot of jokes in the past few days about climbing in the blue hammock. So when I went to read today I decided to give it a shot. I managed to get in it, ending up face down and shimmy-rolling over without flipping the hammock in the process. Silvia came by and applauded me!
The other great option for reading is on the deck of the pool. I did that twice in the past week and got noticeably tanner quite quickly.
In the US you might say I'm kind of a book snob because I read almost exclusively books in Spanish or Portuguese, and I don't like reading anything that has been translated. Right before coming here I accidentally read "The Secret Life of Bees" in Spanish, and it was so awkward to visualize racial struggles and black southern women in South Carolina while reading in Spanish. When I travel I really enjoy reading books that take place wherever I am. I got really in to Mozambican literature when I was there, and then Brazilian, and now Argentinian authors. I joined the library here, but then it ironically closed for the summer - so much for promoting literacy development when kids aren't in school.
The other great option for reading is on the deck of the pool. I did that twice in the past week and got noticeably tanner quite quickly.
In the US you might say I'm kind of a book snob because I read almost exclusively books in Spanish or Portuguese, and I don't like reading anything that has been translated. Right before coming here I accidentally read "The Secret Life of Bees" in Spanish, and it was so awkward to visualize racial struggles and black southern women in South Carolina while reading in Spanish. When I travel I really enjoy reading books that take place wherever I am. I got really in to Mozambican literature when I was there, and then Brazilian, and now Argentinian authors. I joined the library here, but then it ironically closed for the summer - so much for promoting literacy development when kids aren't in school.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
San Martin 187
In Argentina all towns seem to have the same names for their streets. One name that exists in everyplace I've been is San Martin. San Martin is not a saint, but rather the liberator of Argentina, Chile, and Peru; here in San Ignacio he is honored by naming the main street after him. At one point, I had the pleasure of living on this street, and getting proof of residency papers under that address.
I actually established my residency at San Martin 187 before I really lived there. In late November Silvia's husband's friend, Agustin, moved to San Ignacio to work as a cook here at the hostel. It's rather common here that museums, provincial/national parks, and various other attractions have different entrance prices depending on where you are from. If you live in San Ignacio the beach and ruins are both cheaper, for example. The day Agustin got here we started talking about this practice for some reason, and decided that me, Agustin, and Jimmy (Silvia's husband) should establish our addresses here so that we could take advantage of cheaper entrance fees. On a whim, we set out to the police station, with Silvia and Martin as our two witnesses, to become Misioneros (someone from Misiones province).
Outside the police station we quick asked Martin what his address was. "San Martin 187." We paused to repeat that a few times before going inside. Now let me explain my former living situation: Martin, my ex, has two houses on his property. Silvia and Jimmy lived in the smaller one, and Martin lived in the main one, but they both had the same address. That day Agustin moved in with Martin, and I was already planning on moving in when I got back from my trip to Peru and Ecuador. So the five of us went to the desk to have our residency papers filled in. First went Agustin, with Silvia and Martin as his witnesses. First they asked Agustin what is address was. "San Martin 187." They filled in all his info and then needed the info for his witnesses. "San Martin 187," Silvia and Martin each responded when asked their addresses. Then went Jimmy, and then me. By the end of the process we had repeated San Martin 187 so many times that it was impossible to say it without laughing. The police looked skeptical that we could all have the same address, but since this is kind of the boondocks they didn't care enough to question us about it.
It became a running joke that Martin's house was constantly referred to as "San Martin 187." Let's watch a movie at San Martin 187 later. Are you eating lunch at San Martin 187 or at your Grandma's? Is Jimmy at San Marin 187? Well, a few weeks after that Caitlin came to visit, and she hilariously also began referring to his place as San Martin 187. As Caitlin and I went to Buenos Aires and Peru we would just randomly call out "San Martin 187" at times, and crack up laughing. We decided to send everyone there a post card from Peru for the sole purpose of being able to write that on the address line.
As I was on my trip with Caitlin I had all sorts of images of what life at San Martin 187 would be like. We would all hang out and drink mate and watch movies and cook together and laugh and there would be rainbows and unicorns. But this story has a sad ending. My first week back in January, Jimmy and Agustin, who worked together in the restaurant, got in a big fight and haven't spoken since. Only one of them could be in common areas in San Martin 187 at a time. Silvia and I have opposite schedules at the hostel, so we were never at San Martin 187 at the same time. Martin got really clingy and serious, and I couldn't stand San Martin 187 any more.
And just like that San Martin 187 fell apart. First I ended things with Martin and moved out. Then Agustin got tired of the awkwardness of living with Jimmy and moved out. Finally last week Jimmy got a job in Iguazu and moved out. So now San Martin 187 has only two inhabitants, and is no longer the place to hang out. But I still have my residency papers, and on my trip last week I got the Misionero price to the two parks I went to!
I actually established my residency at San Martin 187 before I really lived there. In late November Silvia's husband's friend, Agustin, moved to San Ignacio to work as a cook here at the hostel. It's rather common here that museums, provincial/national parks, and various other attractions have different entrance prices depending on where you are from. If you live in San Ignacio the beach and ruins are both cheaper, for example. The day Agustin got here we started talking about this practice for some reason, and decided that me, Agustin, and Jimmy (Silvia's husband) should establish our addresses here so that we could take advantage of cheaper entrance fees. On a whim, we set out to the police station, with Silvia and Martin as our two witnesses, to become Misioneros (someone from Misiones province).
Outside the police station we quick asked Martin what his address was. "San Martin 187." We paused to repeat that a few times before going inside. Now let me explain my former living situation: Martin, my ex, has two houses on his property. Silvia and Jimmy lived in the smaller one, and Martin lived in the main one, but they both had the same address. That day Agustin moved in with Martin, and I was already planning on moving in when I got back from my trip to Peru and Ecuador. So the five of us went to the desk to have our residency papers filled in. First went Agustin, with Silvia and Martin as his witnesses. First they asked Agustin what is address was. "San Martin 187." They filled in all his info and then needed the info for his witnesses. "San Martin 187," Silvia and Martin each responded when asked their addresses. Then went Jimmy, and then me. By the end of the process we had repeated San Martin 187 so many times that it was impossible to say it without laughing. The police looked skeptical that we could all have the same address, but since this is kind of the boondocks they didn't care enough to question us about it.
It became a running joke that Martin's house was constantly referred to as "San Martin 187." Let's watch a movie at San Martin 187 later. Are you eating lunch at San Martin 187 or at your Grandma's? Is Jimmy at San Marin 187? Well, a few weeks after that Caitlin came to visit, and she hilariously also began referring to his place as San Martin 187. As Caitlin and I went to Buenos Aires and Peru we would just randomly call out "San Martin 187" at times, and crack up laughing. We decided to send everyone there a post card from Peru for the sole purpose of being able to write that on the address line.
As I was on my trip with Caitlin I had all sorts of images of what life at San Martin 187 would be like. We would all hang out and drink mate and watch movies and cook together and laugh and there would be rainbows and unicorns. But this story has a sad ending. My first week back in January, Jimmy and Agustin, who worked together in the restaurant, got in a big fight and haven't spoken since. Only one of them could be in common areas in San Martin 187 at a time. Silvia and I have opposite schedules at the hostel, so we were never at San Martin 187 at the same time. Martin got really clingy and serious, and I couldn't stand San Martin 187 any more.
And just like that San Martin 187 fell apart. First I ended things with Martin and moved out. Then Agustin got tired of the awkwardness of living with Jimmy and moved out. Finally last week Jimmy got a job in Iguazu and moved out. So now San Martin 187 has only two inhabitants, and is no longer the place to hang out. But I still have my residency papers, and on my trip last week I got the Misionero price to the two parks I went to!
Sunday, March 9, 2014
3 Plagues
I have somehow angered the gods, and they have lashed out against me by sending three plagues my way.
First came the bats. I moved out of the room I had been sharing with a coworker last week and settled in to one of the rooms in the hostel. My first (and only) night in that room was a long one. I finished work at midnight, organized my room a bit, and laid down for a good night sleep. Just as I was drifting off, I heard noises in the "attic" above the closet - wings flapping and a high-pitched whistle. To be fair, I knew that at one point there had been bats in a neighboring room, but I thought the problem was resolved. I laid in bed until 4 am listening to the bats and fearing that there was a tiny hole that would allow them to come down into the room. I put a towel over my head because I had a vague recollection of an urban myth that bats like to nest in people's hair. I took a second melatonin. Finally I fell asleep, but woke up several times and was NOT well rested in the morning. I have since changed rooms.
Second came the caterpillar. While I was at the Salto Encantado I suddenly felt a burning sensation on my inner arm, similar to that of stinging nettles. I looked down, and on my shirt was a hairy caterpillar that my arm had brushed against. I got a stick and flicked it off, but even after that if my arm touched my shirt it stung me. Now, two days later, I still have little welts that burn.
Third came the chigoe flea. Prior to having one burrow into my foot and lay eggs I had no idea what this was. Now I am much more familiar with this tiny bug. Before leaving for my little trip on Wednesday I had noticed that I had a small blister-like bump on the bottom of my foot with a black dot in the center and white puss around it. Having been in Mozambique for a few years, I was familiar with the concept of bugs laying eggs in your skin, and even though I was lucky enough to not personally experience that there, I was pretty sure that's what this was. I monitored it on my trip, and when I got back I showed it to Martin, who confirmed that it was a "pique." To remove it you take a needle and open the bubble, squeeze out the eggs, and then use tweezers to pluck out the flea. This hurts a lot less than it sounds like, despite leaving a little hole at the end. We put disinfectant on it, and I've been monitoring it and putting alcohol on it too. Unfortunately, the pictures I took of this ordeal didn't turn out well, otherwise I would give you all a visual accompaniment.
First came the bats. I moved out of the room I had been sharing with a coworker last week and settled in to one of the rooms in the hostel. My first (and only) night in that room was a long one. I finished work at midnight, organized my room a bit, and laid down for a good night sleep. Just as I was drifting off, I heard noises in the "attic" above the closet - wings flapping and a high-pitched whistle. To be fair, I knew that at one point there had been bats in a neighboring room, but I thought the problem was resolved. I laid in bed until 4 am listening to the bats and fearing that there was a tiny hole that would allow them to come down into the room. I put a towel over my head because I had a vague recollection of an urban myth that bats like to nest in people's hair. I took a second melatonin. Finally I fell asleep, but woke up several times and was NOT well rested in the morning. I have since changed rooms.
Second came the caterpillar. While I was at the Salto Encantado I suddenly felt a burning sensation on my inner arm, similar to that of stinging nettles. I looked down, and on my shirt was a hairy caterpillar that my arm had brushed against. I got a stick and flicked it off, but even after that if my arm touched my shirt it stung me. Now, two days later, I still have little welts that burn.
Third came the chigoe flea. Prior to having one burrow into my foot and lay eggs I had no idea what this was. Now I am much more familiar with this tiny bug. Before leaving for my little trip on Wednesday I had noticed that I had a small blister-like bump on the bottom of my foot with a black dot in the center and white puss around it. Having been in Mozambique for a few years, I was familiar with the concept of bugs laying eggs in your skin, and even though I was lucky enough to not personally experience that there, I was pretty sure that's what this was. I monitored it on my trip, and when I got back I showed it to Martin, who confirmed that it was a "pique." To remove it you take a needle and open the bubble, squeeze out the eggs, and then use tweezers to pluck out the flea. This hurts a lot less than it sounds like, despite leaving a little hole at the end. We put disinfectant on it, and I've been monitoring it and putting alcohol on it too. Unfortunately, the pictures I took of this ordeal didn't turn out well, otherwise I would give you all a visual accompaniment.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Waterfalls
Wow! Blogging is so much easier when I've done something other than stay in San Ignacio and work! I had the past three days off so I decided to visit some well-known waterfalls in the area.
I started out on Wednesday, which was the same day that schools opened after summer break. As is often the case here, the school year began with a teachers strike, which involved protests that shut down the main highway in various locations. The bus I needed to take arrived two hours late in San Ignacio due to these protests, and twenty minutes later we sat at a dead stop for almost two hours. Finally I arrived in El Soberbio, a small, adorable town on the border with Brazil. I got a really good vibe from El Soberbio. I'm not really sure what it was, but sometimes you go someplace and you just feel like it's the place for you, without really knowing why. It was very small, but clean, with well-kept houses, various stores, and seemed much more developed and organized than San Ignacio despite (or because of?) not being a well-known international tourist destination. There was what appeared to be an organized league of children's soccer playing in the park when I walked by - something that could easily exist in San Ignacio but doesn't.
I spent the evening wandering around El Soberbio, and then did something that I love to do but never can because of my work schedule: I went to bed early, at 10pm. The next morning I had to wake up early, which I also love doing when I go to bed early, to catch the bus to Los Saltos de Mocona, a provincial park that has some really unique waterfalls. I'm not sure if I can accurately explain it, but the waterfalls go down the middle of the river, not across it. So the Argentine side is several meters higher than the Brazilian side, and down the middle of the river for 2-3 kilometers is the waterfall. The day I went the falls were only a few meters high, but they can be as great at 14 meters when the river is low. When the river is high they disappear entirely. An interesting fact that the guide explained was the on Sundays and Mondays the falls are higher than other days because there are several factories upstream that use the river as a water source. During the week the water is constantly flowing, which keeps the river high and the falls low, but on weekends the water remains in the holding tanks of the factories, which causes the river level to drop, and the height of the falls to increase.
Saltos de Mocona
After spending the morning at Los Saltos de Mocona, I took the bus to San Vicente, another city with nearby waterfalls. I spent the evening exploring the town, but it didn't have that enchanting vibe that I got from El Soberbio. It was a bit bigger and had more of an industrial feel to it, so I got some ice cream and went back to my room and read a bit. The next day I went to Salto Encantado park, to see the waterfall there. This one was sixty meters high, falling into a canyon surrounded by rock walls, with various lookout points all around to see it from every angle. In the early afternoon I set out back to San Vicente to get my things, and then came back to San Ignacio. All in all, a spectacular three-day vacation!!
Salto Encantado
I started out on Wednesday, which was the same day that schools opened after summer break. As is often the case here, the school year began with a teachers strike, which involved protests that shut down the main highway in various locations. The bus I needed to take arrived two hours late in San Ignacio due to these protests, and twenty minutes later we sat at a dead stop for almost two hours. Finally I arrived in El Soberbio, a small, adorable town on the border with Brazil. I got a really good vibe from El Soberbio. I'm not really sure what it was, but sometimes you go someplace and you just feel like it's the place for you, without really knowing why. It was very small, but clean, with well-kept houses, various stores, and seemed much more developed and organized than San Ignacio despite (or because of?) not being a well-known international tourist destination. There was what appeared to be an organized league of children's soccer playing in the park when I walked by - something that could easily exist in San Ignacio but doesn't.
I spent the evening wandering around El Soberbio, and then did something that I love to do but never can because of my work schedule: I went to bed early, at 10pm. The next morning I had to wake up early, which I also love doing when I go to bed early, to catch the bus to Los Saltos de Mocona, a provincial park that has some really unique waterfalls. I'm not sure if I can accurately explain it, but the waterfalls go down the middle of the river, not across it. So the Argentine side is several meters higher than the Brazilian side, and down the middle of the river for 2-3 kilometers is the waterfall. The day I went the falls were only a few meters high, but they can be as great at 14 meters when the river is low. When the river is high they disappear entirely. An interesting fact that the guide explained was the on Sundays and Mondays the falls are higher than other days because there are several factories upstream that use the river as a water source. During the week the water is constantly flowing, which keeps the river high and the falls low, but on weekends the water remains in the holding tanks of the factories, which causes the river level to drop, and the height of the falls to increase.
Saltos de Mocona
After spending the morning at Los Saltos de Mocona, I took the bus to San Vicente, another city with nearby waterfalls. I spent the evening exploring the town, but it didn't have that enchanting vibe that I got from El Soberbio. It was a bit bigger and had more of an industrial feel to it, so I got some ice cream and went back to my room and read a bit. The next day I went to Salto Encantado park, to see the waterfall there. This one was sixty meters high, falling into a canyon surrounded by rock walls, with various lookout points all around to see it from every angle. In the early afternoon I set out back to San Vicente to get my things, and then came back to San Ignacio. All in all, a spectacular three-day vacation!!
Salto Encantado
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Packing
First of all, happy birthday to my Mom!!!!!!
Maybe I should have just stuck to my goal of 5 posts a week for the month of February. There's not much new to say.
I have the next three days off, so I'm going to a town called El Soberbio on the border of Brazil and to see some waterfalls called Saltos de Mocona. Hopefully that will give me something more interesting to write about.
I moved out of the room I was sharing with a coworker this morning and in to a different room in the hostel. Since the summer is over and kids go back to school tomorrow there will be a lot less tourism, and more than enough rooms. This is the fourth place I'm living in San Ignacio, and each time I've moved I've really appreciated how few things I have. I really like not having a lot of stuff. It's much easier to move, easier to decide what to wear, and easier to keep track of my things. I think I'm going to get rid of everything that I don't really like when I get back. It's nice to look at the 5 shirts I have and think, "I like all of these," instead of look at 20 shirts and think, "I don't feel like wearing 75% of these."
I remember when I went to Germany in the summer for 3 weeks right after high school I took a giant suitcase and I think a small suitcase as well and felt so limited when packing. Five trips later I think I have really perfected the art of packing, as I have survived quite well for the past 6 months with just a travel size suitcase and a small daypack worth of belongings. It's always funny when Emily and I have to pack for a trip because she has about 3 times as much stuff as me (but she's been getting a lot better lately). Sometimes we play a game that we list out a certain number of each item of clothing, and that's all we can take. Emily usually ends up bringing more anyway, and then I make her lend things to me while on the trip when I realize I don't have something. It works out quite well.
Maybe I should have just stuck to my goal of 5 posts a week for the month of February. There's not much new to say.
I have the next three days off, so I'm going to a town called El Soberbio on the border of Brazil and to see some waterfalls called Saltos de Mocona. Hopefully that will give me something more interesting to write about.
I moved out of the room I was sharing with a coworker this morning and in to a different room in the hostel. Since the summer is over and kids go back to school tomorrow there will be a lot less tourism, and more than enough rooms. This is the fourth place I'm living in San Ignacio, and each time I've moved I've really appreciated how few things I have. I really like not having a lot of stuff. It's much easier to move, easier to decide what to wear, and easier to keep track of my things. I think I'm going to get rid of everything that I don't really like when I get back. It's nice to look at the 5 shirts I have and think, "I like all of these," instead of look at 20 shirts and think, "I don't feel like wearing 75% of these."
I remember when I went to Germany in the summer for 3 weeks right after high school I took a giant suitcase and I think a small suitcase as well and felt so limited when packing. Five trips later I think I have really perfected the art of packing, as I have survived quite well for the past 6 months with just a travel size suitcase and a small daypack worth of belongings. It's always funny when Emily and I have to pack for a trip because she has about 3 times as much stuff as me (but she's been getting a lot better lately). Sometimes we play a game that we list out a certain number of each item of clothing, and that's all we can take. Emily usually ends up bringing more anyway, and then I make her lend things to me while on the trip when I realize I don't have something. It works out quite well.
Monday, March 3, 2014
All about food and eating
The food here is rather similar to what we might eat in the US. Common dishes include pasta, chicken, beef, rice with vegetables or meat, pizza, breaded filets of beef or chicken, mashed potatoes, steamed veggies with meat, etc. I wish there were more exotic fruits like I had in Mozambique, but the common ones are just apples, bananas, organs, grapes, kiwi, and peaches.
I think we might often have the image that all of Latin America is the same, but that's really not the case. I made tacos for some friends a few months ago and they had no idea what it was. Rice and beans are not by any means the base of all meals here.
There are four meals a day typically instead of three. Breakfast when you wake up (mate with bread/rolls/croissants), lunch around noon or 1 (any of the food mentioned above), merienda or a hearty snack around 5 or 6 (fruit, yogurt, cheese and crackers, bread, etc), and then dinner around 10 (again, any of the foods listed).
The most common meal for any special occasion or get together is an asado, which is basically a cookout. It involves a lot of grilled meat and can be accompanied by as little as bread and a basic tomato/onion salad, or there can be various side salads and potatoes and cassava. Beer and wine are also necessary elements of an asado, as is ice.
Ice cream isn't purchased in half-gallon containers of just one flavor. Instead heladerias, or ice cream shops, are common. You can buy ice cream by the kilo, and depending on how much you buy you can select various flavors. For example, if you want to buy a kilo, you can choose up to 4 flavors that will all be put in the Styrofoam container along with a topping of your choice.
A really delicious food here that we don't have are chipas. It's kind of like pao de queijo in Brazil. The dough is made from cassava flour, and the center is filled with cheese. Cassava is also common here.
I think we might often have the image that all of Latin America is the same, but that's really not the case. I made tacos for some friends a few months ago and they had no idea what it was. Rice and beans are not by any means the base of all meals here.
There are four meals a day typically instead of three. Breakfast when you wake up (mate with bread/rolls/croissants), lunch around noon or 1 (any of the food mentioned above), merienda or a hearty snack around 5 or 6 (fruit, yogurt, cheese and crackers, bread, etc), and then dinner around 10 (again, any of the foods listed).
The most common meal for any special occasion or get together is an asado, which is basically a cookout. It involves a lot of grilled meat and can be accompanied by as little as bread and a basic tomato/onion salad, or there can be various side salads and potatoes and cassava. Beer and wine are also necessary elements of an asado, as is ice.
Ice cream isn't purchased in half-gallon containers of just one flavor. Instead heladerias, or ice cream shops, are common. You can buy ice cream by the kilo, and depending on how much you buy you can select various flavors. For example, if you want to buy a kilo, you can choose up to 4 flavors that will all be put in the Styrofoam container along with a topping of your choice.
A really delicious food here that we don't have are chipas. It's kind of like pao de queijo in Brazil. The dough is made from cassava flour, and the center is filled with cheese. Cassava is also common here.
Troya
The nightlife in San Ignacio is lacking, to say the least. The only place to go for a drink after midnight is the casino, and while several restaurants serve drinks, there isn't a single place that is actually a bar. But one night a week, every Saturday to be exact, the nightclub Troya opens. And I had the opportunity to experience it last night.
After hearing people talk about it, I went in with low expectations, but was pleasantly surprised. It was nothing to write home about (ha!), but not that much different from the average dance club I would go to in Raleigh. (That might have something to do with the fact that one of my favorites is in a basement...) The music reminded me a bit of the music people used to listen to in Mozambique, which I'm not really sure how to describe. But it had a good beat and was danceable. The bar was the most lacking aspect of the club - it had very few options, and the mixed drinks weren't well mixed.
When we entered the club just before 2 am it was still pretty empty - too early for most people to be out yet. But soon it filled with people taking advantage of the one night a week to go out here. When we left around 5 am it was still packed - too early for most people to go home yet. I really like the American nightlife schedule of going out around 11 and heading home by 2 am. Today I slept until 12:30 and wasted the whole day. At least when I go out in the US I can get a full night sleep, wake up, and eat breakfast all while it's technically still "morning."
After hearing people talk about it, I went in with low expectations, but was pleasantly surprised. It was nothing to write home about (ha!), but not that much different from the average dance club I would go to in Raleigh. (That might have something to do with the fact that one of my favorites is in a basement...) The music reminded me a bit of the music people used to listen to in Mozambique, which I'm not really sure how to describe. But it had a good beat and was danceable. The bar was the most lacking aspect of the club - it had very few options, and the mixed drinks weren't well mixed.
When we entered the club just before 2 am it was still pretty empty - too early for most people to be out yet. But soon it filled with people taking advantage of the one night a week to go out here. When we left around 5 am it was still packed - too early for most people to go home yet. I really like the American nightlife schedule of going out around 11 and heading home by 2 am. Today I slept until 12:30 and wasted the whole day. At least when I go out in the US I can get a full night sleep, wake up, and eat breakfast all while it's technically still "morning."
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Goal setting
I think I need to identify some goals for my future. I'm not sure what I want to accomplish. Or better said, I've completed the goals I previously had. I wanted to travel, learn other languages, and become a teacher; those have been the three things that I've wanted for my future since high school or before. And now that I've done them, I'm not sure where to go from here. Obviously I'm aware that being in this position is nothing to complain about, but at the same time I want something new and exciting to look forward to.
I like being a teacher, but I have no aspirations of ever becoming a principal.
I loved college, but I have no particular desire to get my masters.
I like doing several sports, but I don't want to sacrifice the variety to focus on becoming really good at just one.
I'm sure I'll get married and buy a house at some point, but I can't say that I would call those "goals" rather than logical steps in life.
Sure, I could come up with goals like "run a 5k in X minutes," but that would be just for the sake of making a goal, not because that's truly something I actually, really want to accomplish.
So after thinking about it for a while, here's what I've come up with:
-Keep spending money on things that are worth it (aka don't save too much money - odd goal)
-Learn another language (French immersion with Joe?)
-Practice switching between Spanish and Portuguese without everything turning into Portunol
-Start a really cool project as a teacher, maybe with other teachers (to be specific...)
-Go to another continent or two, or revisit ones I've already been to
-Travel in the US for once
-Develop an affinity for Jenny the Dog
-Actually create a Settlers of Something game and play it
-Make mate moderately acceptable within my group of friends
Let me know if you have any suggestions :)
I like being a teacher, but I have no aspirations of ever becoming a principal.
I loved college, but I have no particular desire to get my masters.
I like doing several sports, but I don't want to sacrifice the variety to focus on becoming really good at just one.
I'm sure I'll get married and buy a house at some point, but I can't say that I would call those "goals" rather than logical steps in life.
Sure, I could come up with goals like "run a 5k in X minutes," but that would be just for the sake of making a goal, not because that's truly something I actually, really want to accomplish.
So after thinking about it for a while, here's what I've come up with:
-Keep spending money on things that are worth it (aka don't save too much money - odd goal)
-Learn another language (French immersion with Joe?)
-Practice switching between Spanish and Portuguese without everything turning into Portunol
-Start a really cool project as a teacher, maybe with other teachers (to be specific...)
-Go to another continent or two, or revisit ones I've already been to
-Travel in the US for once
-Develop an affinity for Jenny the Dog
-Actually create a Settlers of Something game and play it
-Make mate moderately acceptable within my group of friends
Let me know if you have any suggestions :)
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