So we’re calling this entry Córdoba in April: Part Two. It’s a fun topic that I’m excited to write about because of all my pastimes, this might be the one I’m most passionate about!

But before that, I’d like to take a short moment to acknowledge that I HAVE BEEN HERE FOR THREE MONTHS. It’s a strange and wonderful feeling – yesterday, there was a moment that I stood up from my table, glanced around, and truly believed that I had lived here my whole life. I’ve reached a point in my journey here that I’m tranquil overall and looking forward with great anticipation to the viajes ahead, but I’m also very aware that July 31^st will be a day that I accept with a smile. (Not a ginormous, thank-goodness-you’re-finally-here smile, but a content smile, nonetheless.) I know that I’ll be just as ready to return home and finish out my last year at Wofford as I was to embark on a life-changing experience on February 10^th, an experience that will stay with me forever.

What I’m not ready for are the good-bye’s, and I had my first of many last night. Like I mentioned in my last post, Cynthia leaves for Paraguay today. I celebrated Cynthia’s adventure in Córdoba with her and her fellow apartment-mates Thursday night at a traditional Argentine restaurant called La Alfonsina (pictures hopefully to come!), and honestly thought at the end of the night that I wouldn’t be too affected by her departure. Then she, our chemistry professor, and I shared coffee and medialunas after work yesterday…and I accompanied her to her apartment…where she gave me the most beautiful Paraguayan bag to remember her by…

I completely lost it. Without realizing it, Cynthia had become one of my most significant friends in Argentina, and I’m envisioning the rest of my time in the Facultad de Ciencias Químicas with trepidation. It has nothing to do with the other girls in the group and everything to do with the fact that a friendship forged in two short months is being separated so soon. I enjoyed the routine that we developed together and the easy way we exchanged conversations and cultures. We didn’t always say much, but there was always consolation in shared company. I’m already imagining the possibility of visiting her in Asunción once July arrives.

I’m also incredibly wary of the first week of July taking the rest of my new friends away from me.

Hello’s are less painful than good-bye’s, I’ve found, which is why I can smile at July 31^st and the family and friends waiting for me in South Carolina. But I’m much more aware of the countdown now, and I expect that May will be even more filled with fun relational experiences and really trying to immerse myself in Argentina when I’m outside of my bedroom.

Argentine flag that everyone from Casa Colón (plus me!) signed as Cynthia’s going-away gift.

Anyway, on to the fun stuff!

Hopefully the majority of you know how much I love to dance. You may also remember from my last blog the two women at the hostel in Tilcara who took me by the waist and gave me an impromptu dance lesson on the terrace. Since then, I have taken five salsa and bachata lessons and greatly improved my basic step and hip-manipulating technique!

But before I get into those details, I need to share about one of my other best friends here in Córdoba. I met Tim, an exchange student from Germany, completely por casualidad (by coincidence) in a meeting with the international director of the Facultad de Lenguas (Department of Languages). We discovered quickly that we were each looking for a salsa partner to take formal dance classes, so after a ten-minute colectivo ride back to campus, we exchanged numbers and agreed to research possibilities. The rest, as they say, is history.

What was originally intended to be a once-a-week reunion has transformed into a truly beautiful friendship. We’ve made it a point to see each other at least one other afternoon on campus, since our buildings are situated next door to each other, and Thursday night dance classes have turned into a highly anticipated event at the Casa Colón. (Told you in the last post we’d made it back here!) We’ve developed a special routine: I take a colectivo and he bikes to Plaza San Martín, we walk the remaining three blocks to Avenida Colón together, we cook dinner in his apartment, and then we dance the night away!

It’s truly amazing that we even found a salsa and bachata class, because we literally stumbled across it after staggering out of another salsa lesson that was far beyond our expert level. We were just meandering back to Tim’s apartment when we overheard salsa music and saw a guy inviting any passersby to try out the salsa and bachata class he was offering. Out of curiosity, we wandered over and found out that we could attend the first night for free and then decide the next week if we were interested in continuing. We had nothing to lose, so we hung around to discover that we LOVED this class! Pablo and Sandy, our instructors, are two of the friendliest and most energetic people I’ve ever met and do teach really well. Every week, we review what we’ve learned from previous weeks before slowly going through the new set of steps and rotating partners, since we’re seven girls and three guys! The movements occasionally feel basic to me, but I make up for that by focusing on my hips, since most of the girls in the class have this natural, rhythmic sway that feels ridiculous when I attempt it.

Also, since the class covers the Cuban style of salsa, we participate in a group dance every week called la reuda (the wheel). As I understand it, the dance is meant to imitate the phases of the sugar harvest, because beyond the normal moves and changing of partners as we “turn the wheel”, or simply travel in a circle, there are also some motions and sounds that we make toward the center: cosecha (harvest), tirar agua (throw water), and ¡azúcar! (sugar!), among others. It’s a neat exercise and a fun way to de-stress after learning so many new steps.

There are two things that, beyond the fact that I get to learn Latin dance on Thursday nights, I’ve really treasured about this experience. The first is the culture that we experience simply interacting with the other students in our class. Tim and I are the only non-Argentines that attend the workshop, so the others – especially the women – show a lot of affection for us and seem amused by how hard we try every week to learn the steps. (One of the guys, an elderly gentleman, also comments frequently that I dance well for a gringa.) Our instructors also demonstrate a certain preoccupation for our well-being, as evidenced by Sandy’s hug of concern the week after I missed class due to feeling sick. Overall, every night that we gather, there’s the common but nonetheless significant exchange of kisses in greeting and sometimes squeezing hands or elbows to show extra care, and it’s affirming to be embraced by these people every week.

Second, I’ve had the immense pleasure of spending time at the Casa Colón. I’ve mentioned this apartment a number of times in the last few blogs, so now I will explain. Casa Colón is a student residence owned by the Universidad Nacional de Córdoba but located off-campus. The majority of the students – perhaps all of them – aren’t originally from Argentina. There’s Tim and a few other Germans, Cynthia from Paraguay, and students from Spain, Brazil, Chile, and more, bringing the number up to a solid thirty. These thirty students share bedrooms for two, bathrooms, kitchen, and outdoor patio space, and with so many international youth living in one apartment floor, it’s definitely a happening scene!

Just some highlights:

• A Brazilian girl who occasionally sings American country music (I kid you not)
• Learning birthday songs from every represented country, in every represented language
• Authentic German and Mexican food (YUM!)
• A fiesta de disfraz (costume party) that I, unfortunately, missed while I was sick
• Going salsa dancing together at the Plaza de la Intendencia
• Being invited on apartment trips and excursions

And, my favorite, the conversation that I experience every time I meet someone new. (This doesn’t occur only at the Casa Colón by the way.)

“Disculpe, ¿me podés contar la hora / indicar aquel lugar?” (Excuse me, do you have the time / know where such and such place is?”)

“Por supuesto, son las… / Disculpe, no podría decirte.” (“Of course, it is… / Sorry, I couldn’t tell you.”)

“Che, vos no sos de acá, ¿verdad?” (“Hey, you’re not from here, right?”)

“No, no soy.” (“No, no I’m not.” In my mind: “Duh.”)

“¿Entonces sos de Alemania?” (“So are you from Germany?”)

Every time. Without fail. And they’re always so surprised when I say that I’m from the United States after that. I guess that’s what I get for being blonde, blue-eyed, and persistently pale even after three months of Argentine sun!

Well, this concludes part two of my April series. I’ll give you a teaser about my upcoming week: in the spirit of Latin dance, I start a tango workshop on Tuesday night! I couldn’t be more excited to add this new experience to my growing list. ¡Que anden bien hasta la próxima vez! And for my Wofford friends that are graduating very soon: ¡Felicitades, y que tengan experiencias inolvidables por todas sus vidas!

So April turns into May…

How the time has flown by! I recently sat down and had that errant thought: When was the last time I blogged? I’m ashamed that it’s been over a month already, but now I’ll certainly have a wealth of beautiful experiences to share with all of you! It has been a month of trying new things and embracing the friends and activities that are defining my cultural growth here. I wouldn’t trade my days here for anything, because it’s through this unique period of travel that I am fully realizing some important character traits in myself and living a life that I may never have again.

Because I’ve had a diversity of experiences this month that would make this blog post ridiculously long, I hope to publish a series of entries over the next few days to document the month. (Probably what I should’ve been doing all along, but better late than never!)

So without further ado, what has this negrita been up to for the last month?!

(I should explain: “negrita” is a common endearment that literally means “little black girl” but refers more to how tan one’s skin is. I have achieved full cordobesa status!)

A chemistry internship

Yes, you read that right. What nerdy chemistry major wouldn’t study abroad and willingly devote 120 hours of her semester to atmospheric chemistry research?

It’s actually a fun story, my foray into research conducted in my second language. Up until the middle of March, I was hopeful but not convinced that I would be eligible for an internship experience. In Argentina, it’s not that common for undergraduate students to perform research until their fifth year of college – the university system operates in five years rather than four – so my director told me quite plainly at the beginning of the semester that finding a professor or company to host me would be next to impossible. Imagine my surprise when I received an email from her informing me that I had an internship and needed to be in my professor’s office the very next day!

My meeting with Dr. Mariano Teruel was scheduled for 6:00 on a Wednesday night. Due to my deeply ingrained Wofford habits, I arrived at 5:40; in true Argentine fashion, Mariano didn’t show until 6:10. The moment he arrived, he invited me to an international chemistry student conference that was in progress upstairs, and we entered the conference room in time to catch the last ten minutes of a student presenting about his semester studying chemistry in Spain. I noted with a smile that I was currently on the other side of the equation. I also noticed that I felt rejuvenated and comforted in a way that I hadn’t realized I was missing. Let’s be honest: as a chemistry major, I spend an inordinate amount of time in Milliken, but half the time that I go there, it’s to soothe my nerves with a hot coffee and good company in Great Oaks Hall or the chemistry suite. Merely being in the same space with undergraduate students that share my passion and knowledge base brought me contentment in an unexpected but certainly welcomed way.

Perhaps Mariano sensed my enthusiasm, because as the next student began her presentation about the University of Texas at Austin, he invited me – well, obligated me – to introduce myself to the group and explain what I was doing in Córdoba! I was scared out of my mind, since my Spanish wasn’t to a level that I felt comfortable using in such a large group and we hadn’t had even a casual conversation about my project yet, but I rose to the challenge and apparently made a strong impression on the group. I was even mentioned in a short article on the Facultad de Ciencias Químicas (Department of Chemical Sciences) website!

After that moment, my responsibilities were much lower-key. I spent the next two days learning about the project and observing the experimental method to replicate on my own time. Essentially, my research group is studying the impacts of pollutants in the atmosphere when they undergo oxidation reactions promoted by the sun’s rays. To simulate this process and determine rates of reaction, we fill a large collapsible Teflon reaction bag with a chemical with unknown velocity constants (our substrate), a chemical with known constants (our reference), and either hydrogen peroxide or chlorine (our oxidant). The filling process involves a lot of glass pipes, valves, reaching certain pressures, and letting nitrogen carry the gases into the bag, but after two weeks of following my co-workers, I pretty well got the hang out it! Once the bag is full and the gases mixed more or less homogeneously, we test the mixture twice in a gas chromatograph to determine the retention times of both the substrate and the reference. After that, the bag is placed in a chamber of UV lamps (meant to represent the sun) and photolyzed at least five times, with a GC scan between each photolysis. The areas under each curve generated in the chromatogram are tabulated and used to form a linear curve, from which we can use the slope of the line and the known velocity constant to calculate the velocity constant of the substrate.

WHEW!

Before some of you get worried that I’m missing out on Argentina by spending too much time in the laboratory, I have gained some incredibly valuable social interactions through this process. For one thing, I’m practicing technical vocabulary and professional relationships IN SPANISH every day. I’ve had to learn how to ask questions and verify concepts in my second language, as well as know the equivalents of new concepts in English to help my team translate their papers from Spanish for publication. For another, I’ve made some amazing friends! The girl that I spend the most time with is a graduate student from Paraguay named Cynthia, and from the start, she’s been just as interested in befriending me as guiding me in the lab. During each of our experimental runs – which involve about twenty minutes of simply watching a screen, and then repeat – we share stories, cultural backgrounds, and sleeves of cookies to pass the time. I’ve even spent a couple of afternoons in the park or at her apartment, Casa Colón, to drink mate together. (I will be coming back to Casa Colón later!) She’s fantastic and, unfortunately, going home this Saturday, so we’ll be having a going-away party for her either Thursday or Friday of this week.

Other girls in the group that I’ve spent a significant amount of time with are Carmen and Elizabeth. Carmen is a graduate student from El Salvador, and her glowing characteristic is her incessant questions. When she’s not asking me about my family and university life in the States, she’s verifying that I understand the theory behind the methodology and testing my observation and hypothesis skills – I learn a lot about the project in a very short time! Elizabeth, also from Paraguay, is quieter but very curious about English phrasings and the differences between cultures. All of us girls spend a good deal of time drinking tea in the office and swapping stories until the next experiment.

Overall, it has been an amazing experience working in a laboratory in South America. It has its differences and occasional challenges, certainly, but I get to maintain my practical skills while building my lingual and relational skills at the same time. I’m very grateful for this opportunity!

The basic setup of glass pipes, nitrogen tank, and Teflon reaction bag.

Photolysis chamber.

Yes, I was obligated to buy a lab coat (or “guardapolvos”). I have achieved full nerd status.

I am sitting tiredly at my computer after one of the most amazing weekends of my life. It certainly wasn’t perfect, and it could have gone any number of directions. But however cliche it sounds, what made this weekend beautiful was the journey rather than the destination. It was waking up each morning with hair tangled and body covered with dust but spirit ready for the next view. It was walking rather than driving three kilometers in order to better take in the scenery and commit it to memory (since both of us lost our cameras). It was making new friends at a happenstance camping hostel and then unexpectedly reuniting with them in the next pueblo.

Sasha and I spent five days in Salta, Purmamarca, and Tilcara, and I will do my best to share the highlights of our trip in journal-like fashion.

Salta

After a twelve-hour ride in a semi-cama ómnibus (half-bed bus), Sasha and I caught a glimpse of our first destination from above the city skyline. Salta doesn’t boast many tall buildings, and it isn’t nearly as expansive as Córdoba, but for just a day trip, we found plenty of sites to keep us occupied!

But first, to business. Our first two goals were to purchase boletos (tickets) to Purmamarca for the next day (check!) and find our hostel, Salta Por Siempre (not so much). After about an hour and four different sets of directions, we stumbled into one of the loveliest hostels we had ever seen. We were given a private room and made quick work of settling in and exploring the area. I wish that we had been able to stay for one more night, because the hostel boasted an open terrace with flowers on vines and plenty of tables and chairs, an open kitchen, and a bar and lounge area on the second floor.

At any rate, we decided to first find a market nearby to make lunch. Luckily, there was a kiosco-verdulería just half a block away that had everything we needed.

Food Checkpoint: Lunch

• Pasta noodles
  
• Tomato puré (for the sauce)
• One cucumber, diced
  
• One tomato, diced
  
• Parmesan cheese
• Total cost: AR$14 (US$2.80)

We also bought sliced bread for about AR$6 (US$1.20) to use for breakfast and lunch in the upcoming days.

After lunch, the sweet woman who managed the hostel recommended that we climb the 1070 stairs at Cerro San Bernardo. A half-hour to hour walk through downtown Salta, which included three beautiful cathedrals and the Plaza 9 de Julio, we reached an impressive statue of General Güemes mounted on horseback and gazing intently at the mountains to his right.

A landmark for the city, located in a greenspace open to artisans and families enjoying an afternoon mate.

Further up the hill, behind the general, begin the stone stairs up the mountain. The stairs wind in a zigzag pattern up and across, and every few twists in the trail is a Station of the Cross, a small chapel-like structure with a painted image depicting one scene of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. At the beginning are paintings of the Last Supper and the betrayal; closer to the top are the empty tomb and the Ascension.

The ninth Station of the Cross: Jesus bearing his cross to Calvary.

The hike to the top couldn’t have taken more than an hour, but the view valió la pena (was worth the trouble). At the crest of the hill, we found a beautiful (albeit touristy) garden, with lots of green plants, artificial waterfalls, and a panorama view of the city. There was even a cable lift that we could have taken to reach the top instead of taking the hike (again, touristy). We paused for a moment to enjoy the view and a quick ice cream, strolled through the small artisans fair on the other side of the garden, and then reluctantly made our way back down the hill.

Gorgeous view of Salta from above.

It seems that we were right to be reluctant. I mentioned at the beginning of this blog that both of us lost our cameras. That was only slightly true. Sasha lost hers in Córdoba. Mine — my iPhone, actually — was forcefully taken in Salta.

On the walk back to our hostel, the sun had just begun to set, and I had my iPhone in my hand because we had taken a picture of a local church two blocks back. Without warning, I felt a pressure on my hand and found myself struggling with a boy about my age for possession of the phone. I can’t remember much about the incident, not even the boy’s face; it all happened so fast. After only ten seconds of screaming and pulling, he pushed me to the ground and ran away with the iPhone. We might have been able to catch him — the police even picked us up in their car — but he escaped on the back of a friend’s motorcycle and it quickly became too dark outside to see anything.

That moment is easily the most memorable part of the trip, although certainly not our favorite. The important part is that none of us was hurt. The boy was only after my phone; honestly, if my phone hadn’t been out, he might have gone for my whole backpack — we were already targets just for being foreigners. The sad part is that all of our pictures from the first part of the trip are inaccessible now. (Yes, every picture up to this point was stolen from a tourist website.)

But enough of the upsetting stuff. That night, Sasha and I decided to splurge a little for dinner. We took a taxi to a suggested peña, a restaurant that serves local cuisine and plays folklore music throughout the meal. The wait to be seated was about an hour, but again, definitely valió la pena. We stood with about ten other travelers, a few of whom we ran into over the next couple of days, and admired the strong and clear voice of a folklore performer named Rodrigo. The fun part about having nothing to entertain us but the music was observing the reactions of the audience. There were two older women at a table nearby who knew every song and accompanied Rodrigo with gusto, and nearly every guest paused their eating and talking to clap along with the rhythm of the chorus.

When we were finally seated near the back of the restaurant, away from the main action, we took advantage of the time to share easy conversation after a rough day and savor the local flavor. We each ordered two empanadas and split a liter of house wine; Sasha tried papas amplayas (dressed-up French fries), and I tried locro (a local soup with corn and steak). So delicious!

Locro. My meal came in the more traditional wooden bowl.

We arrived at the peña at 10:00 and sat down around 11:00. Near midnight, a group of performers set up a circle of chairs right in front of our table, and for the next half hour, we partook in what was essentially Salta’s version of a night out. Everyone shared drinks, sang along, beat rhythms on the tables — the bands in different rooms even competed for volume at times. I’m sad that we were too tired to stay, but I can safely say that we loved every minute of our time at the restaurant and would definitely go back for round two!

We slept well that night, enjoyed a breakfast of coffee and medialunas the next morning, and began our walk to the bus station for our next trip.

Purmamarca

A bus ride of just over three hours left us on the side of the road just three kilometers outside of Purmamarca. Of course, we were left astounded by the mountains looming on either side of us.

Paleta de la Pintura. (The Painter’s Pallet)

This picture is of only one specific region of the mountains, but every rock face around us hosted a vast array of colors: gray, purple, mint green, burgundy, gold. According to an informational sign that we found just a hundred meters from the main pueblo, the rocks are different colors because the area was once completely submerged in water, thus there are different kinds of sea rock and stages of erosion that took place.

We could have stared at the mountains for days. Actually, that’s essentially what we did, because every time we turned our heads, we had to just gaze up at them in awe and delight. (It was even worse when we got to Tilcara!)

Unfortunately, we were pressed for time once we reached the pueblo. We hadn’t made any hostel reservations for that night, and the last bus out of Purmamarca was leaving in just an hour. A bit frantically, we wound through the dusty streets asking for alojamiento (shelter) in any hostel, hotel, residencial that we could find. Everywhere, the answer was the same: “Está completo.” (“We’re full.”)

We had reached the end of another street, and I was starting to lose hope. But next, we wandered into a camp yard called La Reliquía and finally got a yes! It was with somewhat desperate relief that we agreed to the host’s offer: a shared room for eight, shared bathrooms outside, breakfast included for AR$80 (US$16). After that, we did some quick shopping for the night’s dinner and then struck out for the mountains!

This is the part that absolutely stuns me: we saw a large group of people standing on a hill just on the edge of town, taking photos of the town below. We decided that it might be nice to start there, since it was a short climb, before taking the more intense hike into the Cerro de los Siete Colores (Mountain/Hill of the Seven Colors). We found the entrance to the hill easily enough, but a security guard wanted to charge AR$10 for us to climb it. Disenchanted, we turned around and sought out a different hike that would be free. It only took about two minutes to find a steep dirt path that a few other travelers had taken. When we reached the top of the path, there was an incredible expanse of walking/driving trail and mountain ahead of us, AND we had a better view, from higher up, of the pueblo behind us!

Why, we wondered, would people willingly pay US$2 for a mediocre view when they had the whole range ahead of them, for FREE?

One view of Cerro de los Siete Colores. The colors are astonishing as one moves along the mountainside!

We easily spent about two hours on the trail admiring the colors and overall tranquility of our walk. The one exception to our uninterrupted hike occurred when we agreed to snap a picture of an Argentine couple on the trail and ended up chatting with them for 20-ish minutes about the United States. Honestly, though, there was no way to be annoyed or bothered by these kinds of encounters. We had no plan besides getting out of Córdoba to see another side of Argentina, and isn’t part of the journey the relationships that we share? It was fun to swap stories with a couple that didn’t mind our sometimes halted Spanish and receive suggestions and sympathy (when we shared our anecdote about the iPhone). We stayed outside until the wind brought a cold chill and we felt like showering and warming up inside.

After our shower, we felt like taking one last stroll through the city before dark, so we walked to the nearest plaza. It was surrounded by artisans and their crafts, mostly wool sweaters and jewelry. Though we didn’t buy any clothes, we did pick up some postcards to document the experience in place of pictures. I also garnered some ideas for gifts to bring my friends back home….

Unfortunately, with the chill and the altitude, I developed a migraine that didn’t abate until the following morning. BUT we did share a great home-cooked dinner before I headed to bed, and Sasha got to meet the three people that would be our companions for the next couple of days: Antonio, Alan, and Paulina.

Food Checkpoint: Dinner

• 500 grams wild rice
• One onion, diced
• One tomato, diced
• One red pepper, diced
  
• Four fried eggs
• Total cost: AR$26 (US$5.20)

Yes, sauteed vegetables and fried egg over rice — delightful!

Over a breakfast of coffee and criollos (biscuits) with dulce de leche the next morning, we conversed with the three students living in Buenos Aires about our plans for the rest of the weekend. They were headed to Las Salinas, an area that looks like desert but is composed of salt instead of sand, before traveling to Tilcara the next day. We exchanged cell phone numbers with the hope that we might meet up on a hike in Tilcara.

Two hours later, it was on to the next colectivo.

Tilcara

Out of the three towns that we visited on our vacation, Tilcara was by far the least stressful. We found Hostel Waira without much ado and immediately fell in love with the setup and our hosts. All of the rooms, bathrooms, kitchen, and reception were situated in a half-circle around a patio area, with plenty of tables and chairs, foosball, and ping pong. On the incomplete side of the half-circle, a few tents were already set up for the camping option also offered at the hostel.

One view of Hostel Waira from the front of the terrace. Our room was on the top floor of the building photographed.

We spent a leisurely afternoon catching up on journaling and resting. Around mid-afternoon, I wandered outside to listen to the music and saw two couples dancing salsa and bachata in the tiled entryway. Not wanting to intrude but incredibly fascinated, I found a perch near their dance floor to sit and watch. My attempts at being subtle were for naught, however, because they caught me swaying to the music and one of the women took my hands and began teaching me to dance. (They also gave me tips for practicing my hip motion in front of the mirror…I was not born for the fluidity that they had!) Next thing I knew, I was spinning with relative grace and then joining them for ice cream and charla (conversation). It was a relaxing way to spend the early afternoon and a nice way to ease into the hostel atmosphere.

After our rest, Sasha and I opted for a walk to a local pond instead of the more strenuous hike we had planned to do earlier. The trail took us to some farm land outside of the city, with gardens, horses, and even more views of the mountains across the way. On our way back, we stopped at a local market to stock up on food for the evening. We decided to cook as soon as we returned, even though it was only about 6:30 and the hour for merienda (snack) instead of formal dinner. It seemed a better idea to use the kitchen while it was vacant and have the leisure of taking turns cooking while the other showered.

Food Checkpoint: Dinner

• Three potatoes, diced
• One onion, diced
• One tomato, diced
• Eight spinach leaves
• Two sausage links, chopped
• Total cost: AR$34 (US$6.80)

Although the sausage ended up being more ground than in fine slices, this was easily the best home-cooked meal that we prepared on our adventure! The combination of flavors was perfect. (And after a day without meat, I was grateful for the sausage!) We cooked enough to each eat two servings, and a couple hours later, we savored a dessert of instant cinnamon oatmeal with fresh peach slices, AR$4 (US$0.80). YUM!

It turns out that cooking early didn’t stop other guests from beginning their dinner preparations in the kitchen or simply peeking in to chat with the strange girls who were ready to eat at 8:00. Among the guests, we met one guy who had been traveling on his own for two months and prepared his own grain-and-oatmeal bread (also had an interesting fascination with the color of my eyes); a couple from Córdoba who met as neighbors and had been dating for only about a month before leaving on an extended trip together; two cousins and their mom who were attempting to learn English and practiced a little with us; and a group of five from Spain and France who also study at the Universidad Nacional de Córdoba and want to meet up at one of the city’s many international student events later on. It was a great time to practice our Spanish and see some interesting characters, which I’ve now come to expect from hostel culture!

The next morning dawned beautiful, with a perfect view of the mountains unhindered by city structures or even clouds and a breakfast of biscuits and dulce de leche waiting for us. Sasha and I needed to run a few errands into the town, so we left early to buy bus tickets for the next day and enough fruit and vegetables to last us the rest of the day’s meals. Once we returned to the hostel, we packed our backpacks and prepared a picnic lunch of sandwiches for our hike to a highly recommended trail, La Garganta del Diablo (The Throat of the Devil). Might I also add that we performed this hike on Easter Sunday?

Food Checkpoint: Lunch

• French bread
• One tomato, sliced
• Six spinach leaves
• Two apples
• Total cost: AR$8 (US$1.60)

To actually arrive at the trail, we walked about ten minutes to a trail heading and scaled four kilometers of sandy mountain. We had to stop every few footfalls to admire the scenery around us.

One view of the mountains behind us from the trail.

The trail and blue sky ahead of us.

Before you ask, these are pictures that we took ourselves! When we were preparing to leave the hostel, our host reminded us to bring sunscreen, water, and a camera. This led to the inevitable retelling of our robbery story. The host was appalled and insisted that we borrow a camera that another guest had left behind. He promised that we could extract the memory card and upload our photos on the hostel computer once we returned. We were so grateful to have even a temporary fix for our problem!

The four kilometers lasted a little over an hour. Once we reached La Garganta, it was AR$5 (US$1) to enter and a second walk of about twenty minutes to reach the advertised waterfall ahead. We hiked through this bed of loose rocks with a small stream running through the middle, occasionally jumping or crossing rocks from one side to the other when the walk was too narrow. For awhile, it didn’t seem like we would find anything spectacular. Then, out of nowhere, we rounded the corner to find ourselves in an oasis in the dry and barren canyon.

Sasha and me standing by the waterfall in La Garganta del Diablo.

We eagerly selected a nearby rock to sit down and eat our picnic lunch, after which we rested for an hour just enjoying the sunlight, the cool spray of the waterfall, and the sounds of nature around us. It was well worth the hike; we were prepared to revel in our surroundings. Where did we have to be?

We made our way back more quickly than before to hike another short trail in La Garganta. Without warning, the best surprise approached us from around the corner: Antonio, Alan, and Paulina! We greeted each other with the traditional kisses and even hugs; we were so happy to have found each other again! Antonio and Alan led us two girls (Paulina stayed behind) to the end of the next trail, where we conversed easily for about half an hour and took “studio shots” with Alan’s highly advanced camera. (Hopefully, those pictures will be on Facebook soon to share with everyone.) The fun part about reuniting with them is that the guys mentioned our names to the owners of the hostel, and the owners very enthusiastically revealed that we would be sharing the same room of bunk beds that night! We would never have thought it possible, but we were able to spend the next day and part of the next morning as companions once more.

The rest of the day passed smoothly and easily for Sasha and me. I uploaded our photos from the hike to Dropbox, showered, and rested until we felt ready to make dinner (which we prepared early again…). Dinner was a strange mix of whatever vegetables — potato, tomato, pepper, spinach — and rice that we had left over, yet still tasty. We also prepared the same oatmeal and peach dessert from the night before and ended up explaining our interesting choices to our travel companions when they joined us for dinner.

That night and next morning were full of easygoing charla and a sense of peace and community. We were happy to chat in the kitchen and to play foosball in the hostel courtyard. (Alan and I won!) It was a sad moment when we had to part with them and the beautiful mountains of Tilcara to catch our ómnibus back to Salta, but Sasha and I are hopeful to meet them again in Buenos Aires a few weekends from now and exchange even more traditions with them. (Paulina is interested to taste our version of pancakes.)

Salta Again

Though we had only four hours to kill between arriving in Salta and leaving again for Córdoba, Sasha and I made good use of our time. We found a sidewalk restaurant in the Paseo de San Martín right next to the largest artisans fair in the area. After a late lunch of milanesa (for me) and lasagna (for her), we wound our way through the aisles of booths in search of gifts for our friends back home. I was happy to find gifts for three of my friends as well as a pair of striped pants and a new wallet for myself.

Outside of the Paseo, as we strolled toward downtown Salta again, we ran into a sidewalk of secondhand book vendors. For only AR$100 (US$20), I selected El Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (so excited!), Inés del Alma Mía (Inés of My Soul) by Isabel Allende (one of my favorite Latin American authors), and Martín Fierro by José Hernández (an Argentine epic poem for my literature course). It’s a good thing that Sasha shares my love for books, because we spent a good twenty minutes simply fingering the volumes and enjoying the feel of the old paper against our skin.

The walk to Plaza 9 de Julio in downtown was short, but we found a vacant bench and took turns walking through the plaza and stretching our legs without the weight of our backpacks on our shoulders. Once darkness was approaching, we began the trek back. We even ran into another friend we had made at the hostel in Tilcara! A brief reunion, the short walk to return to the terminal, and it was another thirteen hours to return to Córdoba.

Córdoba

Now that I’ve had a day of rest (and a real shower), it’s nice to think back on this short journey that Sasha and I embarked on together. Maybe spending half the day on a bus and half the day on a hiking trail isn’t the ideal vacation for everyone, but we absolutely loved being away from the city for a few days. We had the chance to expand our horizons, both physically and personally. We witnessed incredible beauty that surrounded us at every moment.

Most of the time that we hiked together, we weren’t discussing anything in particular or moving forward with clear purpose. It wasn’t that we tired of each other’s company, by any means. Words simply weren’t necessary. There was this entire new world that absorbed our emotions and expelled them into the open, that stirred excitement in our hearts yet shrouded us with tranquility. Our outward appearances didn’t matter; our spirits were glowing. There were times that one of us would tentatively verify that the other was alright, and the answer was always the same.

“Sí, estoy contenta. Estoy muy emocionada de estar acá.”

(“Yes, I’m happy. I’m so excited to be here.”)

It’s now April, and we’ve been here for nearly two months. July 31 seems at once so far away and far too close. I’m sure that I won’t know all of Argentina by the time I leave. At the beginning of my trip, that fact would have bothered me. But now, after my last two trips to La Cumbrecita and Salta, I know that I am making the most of my time here and accepting what comes my way. I will live the next three months in relative peace and leave this place with the same sense of peace. There is a time for everything, an appropriate season. And it’s all so right. It’s all so beautiful.

The beauty of Tilcara.

Anyone who has kept tabs on my Facebook page knows that I went through a short struggle last Tuesday with losing my wallet and all of its contents (including my debit card).  I also endured final exams and found a woman trapped in an elevator within the same span of two days.  After all the bustle and business of the first half of the week, I needed a descanso from the norm that weekend.

What better way to destress from the intensive period than to pack a duffel bag and leave town for La Cumbrecita?

So Thursday afternoon, this lovely lady, Sasha, and I hopped onto a colectivo and rode an hour-and-a-half to Villa General Belgrano, a tourist town with German influences near the base of Las Sierras and on the way to La Cumbrecita.  It’s a good thing that both of us were looking for a relaxing weekend with no real plan or schedule, because we missed the last colectivo to our destination and ended up spending the night there!  We checked into a very comfortable hostel with a private bathroom and two rooms…all for $22…not too shabby.  The owner of the hostel gave us a dinner suggestion, and since it was still fairly early, we decided to walk the main street and visit some of the artisan shops to pass the time.  Some of the artwork was beautiful (and the Toms-like flats that we found were especially tempting!).  Dinner consisted of a strange blend of Argentine and German food at a buffet-style restaurant, where we paid based on the weight in kilograms of our plate.  Finally, to end the night, bought some chocolate chip cookies at the only open kiosk and watched Definitely, Maybe in Spanish on the hostel television.

The next morning dawned bright and early.  We left the hostel around 10:00 to stop at a panadería called Café del Sol and grab a coffee and media luna (“half-moon”), a warm croissant drizzled in honey, on the go.  We reached the bus terminal just in time to catch the next colectivo to La Cumbrecita.  The scenery we saw on the way was absolutely stunning:

Once in La Cumbrecita, we hiked a narrow trail to Hostel Planeta and met our fellow guests, four guys in their late twenties.  The rest of the morning was spent walking the streets as we had done in Villa General Belgrano.  The town is beautiful and has the same German feel.

View of the fresh market and some shops from the other side of the river.

After lunch, Sasha and I pulled out our map to find a hiking trail.  Our tentative plan was to walk to La Cascada Grande (“the big waterfall”) via a dirt path instead of taking the road there; what happened instead was an accidental excursion into Paseo Alto (“high pass”) for the next three-ish hours.  It was absolutely worth it.  Within the hour, we had a panorama view of the town and surrounding mountains and could hear next to nothing of the usual city sounds.  After two hours, we were up so high that the scenery was shrouded in an ethereal fog that stopped us in our tracks multiple times just to admire the creation around us.  Both of us had mixed sentiments throughout our hike – at one moment, all I could do was run ahead and excitedly climb the highest rock in the vicinity to just soak in the immensity of it all.  At another, we each claimed a rock and just stared in silence for about ten minutes.  It was like being in another world, surrounded by green and water and tranquility…

I don’t think either of us really cared that it had started to rain and we could only see the ground in front of our feet.  We would have continued on forever if we hadn’t run into a few friends on the mountain:

Just in case you can’t tell, there are two cows in this picture. It was two different ones about two hundred feet away that stopped us from continuing.

More striking were the wild horses a hundred feet away as we started our descent. We moved quietly, so as not to startle them, but our silence felt more reverent than cautious.

There really isn’t a lot more to say.  La Cumbrecita soothed my worries about the wallet incident and reinforced the feelings of peace and joy that I had discovered the week before.  That night, we dried our clothes by a wood stove and hashed out life philosophy — in Spanish — with the other guests at the hostel over a few rounds of mate.  Sasha and I walked to a convenience store and bought the remaining nine empanadas and a jar of peaches to eat for dinner.  Halfway through dinner, the hostel owner changed the music playlist to Johnny Cash, and I taught one of the guests how to waltz.  Being honest, this weekend felt more like todo fluja than any other experience I’ve had thus far.  I enjoyed every minute of it and relished in the freedom to unwind and simply admire the beautiful naturaleza around us.  I know that I will be returning before my five months are over.

HAPPY ONE-MONTH TO CC-CS CÓRDOBA, SPRING 2013!!!!!!!

Yes, as of about two hours ago, I have been in Córdoba, Argentina, for exactly four weeks.  I can hardly believe the way that this period of time has passed by — it simultaneously feels like mere days and long years.  Each day, I learn something new about this city and yet feel ever more comfortable.  I fall into easy rhythm with my bus rides, program friends, class routine (although today was a restless nightmare for some reason), and family life.  And with my renewed determination to live with purpose last week, I wake up each morning with the desire to do more than simply face the day and look forward to the day’s activities in store.

So, as any logical person would love to do, I spent the morning of my one-month anniversary at the migrations office to apply for my student visa.  Translation: I willingly skipped class and waited two-and-a-half hours to receive one slip of paper.

(I’m waiting for the gasps of shock from my classmates back home.)

The process was actually quite interesting to observe.  I accepted a generated number as I walked in the door and sat down next to my classmate and friend, Lala, while we waited to be called in.  Once they reached our numbers, we submitted a slip of paper with the time of our appointment on it — both of ours were for 9:00, and it was about 9:15 by this point.  We also handed them a 4×4 cm passport photo — very precise — after which we were asked to wait a few more minutes for the next process.

I won’t bore you with all the details of timing except to say that it was as tedious as the last paragraph.  We took fingerprints and met individually with migrations representatives, who confirmed the data from our passports and asked us random questions to test our memory and our ease with that data.  We also submitted a certificate of legal history, a form of inscription from the university, and a packet of photocopies of EVERY PAGE OF OUR PASSPORTS.  Then we received a slip of paper with the confirmation that we were cleared to purchase our passport and walked about forty minutes to a bank and back to pay AR$300 and receive a receipt.  Presented the receipt, waited an hour and fifteen minutes to sign four slips of paper, and finally walked away with a promissory student visa that will become a real one — we hope — in fifteen days.

Whew.

Honestly, though, it wasn’t a bad way to pass the morning.  There were no delays except for the normal ones associated with multiple clients, there was never a moment that the office had to interrogate me or question the validity of my paperwork — again, except for the normal — and I left the office in time to eat lunch and attend my afternoon classes.  What interested me most was how old-fashioned all of it seemed: printed pages bound in folders, hand-stamped, in a relatively small space with cubicles, old computers, and stacks of applications.  I wish I could have taken some pictures!

Aaaaand speaking of pictures.

This past weekend, my program traveled about five hours outside of Córdoba to Rosario and Santa Fe.  These two cities are located along the river Paraná and hold some important pieces of Argentine history and culture.  Like I did with my neighborhood photo tour, I’d like to post some of my favorite pictures and the background behind them.

We started our tour in Rosario at the opera house El Círculo, which was built in 1903 and inaugurated in 1904 with the production of Giuseppe Verdi’s Otello.  The theater was built symmetrically, with capacity for 1,500 members in the audience, and featured artwork from many different countries.  For example, I believe that all of the tiling is from Italy and the lanterns featured in the foyer are from France?  All of the architecture was beautifully realized, from the carpeting to the golden dragons supporting the staircase banister.  The opera house now serves as a venue for any kind of performance — orchestra, theater, dance — and shows only two actual operas each year.

Main stage area, with box seats along the side, the emblem of El Círculo in the center of the curtain, and original painting by the artist Belotti along the top.

The cupola of the opera house, which features paintings of famous muses and operatic composers (Verdi, Mozart, Wagner, etc.).

In a lounge meant for smaller performances, famous pianists perform on one of the opera house’s three Steinway pianos.

One of my favorite parts of the tour: the autographs of the pianists that have performed on that piano. (I actually touched it!!!)

Backstage, the basses belonging to members of the symphonic orchestra in Rosario.

At the entrance used by the lower strings of the symphonic orchestra and kind of a geek-out moment on my part. (Sorry about the quality.)

It’s fairly safe to say that this tour interested me more than any of the other program trips we’ve taken thus far.  I asked the tour guide relentless questions about what shows were offered there, where the orchestra pit was — buried underneath three removable rows of seats — etc.  A few of us hope to return in April for their fall season’s opera, El Elixir De Amor by Donizetti, as well as some ballet and theater performances.

In addition to the magnificence that is El Círculo, we were guided into the basement of the opera house to see two hundred works by the sculptor Eduardo Barnes.  Anyone who has seen “The Veiled Christ” in Italy can appreciate the sheer skill it took to create his works — Barnes sculpted everything from one block of material, whether clay, marble, or bronze.  The artwork included beneath the theater had a common theme of Christianity.  As explained by our guide, Barnes paid special attention to hands and always represented God with a triangle crowning his head rather than the traditional halo.  I was speechless when I saw his work.

Our guide, Gladys, showing us one of God’s hands behind the figures of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus in a representation of the day of Jesus’ birth.

Barnes’ representation of the Last Supper. This work includes Jesus, the twelve disciples, and God (at Jesus’ left shoulder), as well as some symbolism associated with the disciples. For example, Judas is the only disciple without a halo and is holding a coin in one of his hands.

After lunch, my group took a bus to El Monumento histórico nacional a la Bandera (the National Historic Flag Monument), which is the largest monument in the world dedicated solely to a country’s flag.  It takes the form of a ship and includes important history and symbolism to the country: statues representing the river Paraná and the Atlantic Ocean, a horse and master representing the Andes, etc.  The entire monument extends from a flag pole to a chapel almost an entire block away.

One angle of the tower featured in the center, which commemorates the Revolution of May 1810.

Walking toward what’s called the Propylaeum, where a flame is constantly burning to represent the Constitution of 1853.

A model of the monument, to show how it is shaped like a ship.

Finally, in Santa Fe the next day, our main event was a four-hour tour by boat over the river Paraná.  We passed some rural neighborhoods, a horse corral, and the city skyline, among other locations, but the nicest part about the tour was soaking in the sun and feeling the cool breeze on our faces.

Not sure if you can tell, but there is a beached ship covered in plants in the center of this photo.

A beach area with a small lighthouse.

This last photo might be my favorite to date, simply because it represents the changes that I’ve undergone in my last month here.  I would agree that the cultural experiences that I’ve had and the great strides I’ve made in mastering the Spanish language are incredibly important.  I came to Argentina with the intention of improving my language skills to the point that I could interpret and translate in basic (non-technical) situations.  My first experience doing so was at Project Transformation in Dallas, TX, when I was the only Spanish-speaking intern at my camp site and had to translate registration forms and announcements for the parents whose kids participated in the program.  That summer, I was capable of doing my job, but I wasn’t great, and there were a few uncomfortable situations when I simply couldn’t explain the concept to a concerned parent and had to solicit the help of one of my bilingual campers.

Since February 11, my conversational and compositional skills have increased dramatically.  I’m responding more quickly with a greater vocabulary and knowledge of grammatical structures to back me up.  Perhaps just important, though, is the freedom that I’ve found here and the renewed sense of purpose that I hinted at in my last post.  In addition to writing more attainable goals for myself, I’ve also been focusing much more intensely on my prayer life and being actively involved in church activities with my host family.  My faith gives me an invaluable avenue for self-reflection but also just an overall sense of belonging.  This last week has been one of the happiest in my life, and I think that Argentina has given me an answer to a question that I’ve been asking myself since Project Transformation: why have I chosen to pursue Spanish, when I have such a secure path lined up for me with my chemistry degree?

Interpretation and translation.  The ability — the expertise — to intercede on behalf of Spanish-speaking communities that need help with just those first few steps into the future.  Since my summer internship in Washington, I’ve provided the more professional answer of translating within my company when the need arises.  I know now that that will never be enough.  I want to — I need to — continue what I started in Cancún, Mexico, with the ESOL program at Wade Hampton High School, La U y Tú and the ARCH program in Spartanburg, SC, and address a need that my heart longs to respond to.  It seems so obvious now, and I’m pretty sure that most of my former professors and bosses are reading this and thinking, Duh, but even though I’ve known this in my heart for a long time, it feels amazing to put it into words and imagine the possibilities that accompany this “new” dream.

At Project Transformation, the leadership staff talked a lot about our heart’s greatest desire meeting the world’s greatest need.  Whether that’s a calling or just a sense of rightness at my decision, I see now where Spanish is taking me and feel ever more motivated to truly improve and maintain my focus over the remaining four to five months of my stay in Córdoba.  And this decision makes me feel lighthearted, delighted, eager, expectant, joyful!  I am free, I am myself, and I can smile at the days to come.

Que tengan semanas muy lindas, chau, Eve.

What do these three pictures have in common?  At first glance, it might seem like a poor attempt on Evelyn’s part to be artsy with her shots.  It’s actually the opposite: on three occasions that I tried to take some group photos, my iPhone froze completely and wouldn’t even allow me to shut it off.  I was incredibly frustrated, but my friends just shrugged it off and insisted that we could try again later, when my phone was working.  I decided to hold onto it and wait until it decided to work in my favor again.  What resulted was my phone taking numerous unplanned, candid shots of whatever it happened to be facing.

Maybe it’s not the best illustration, but my friends’ careless reactions and my phone’s unpredictability are an example of a common attitude here.  There’s this fascination with the idea of going with the flow, not worrying about why someone hasn’t shown up two hours after you decided to meet, not fretting over a spontaneous change of plan or decision to be silly, and not thinking about the future consequences of a divergence from your normal behavior — “todo fluya“.

“I thought we were getting ice cream after school.”

“Nah, we felt like stopping at the park for a bit to share mate, todo fluya.”

“A friend of a friend asked me to have beer with him, but I’m not sure that I like him like that.”

“Hey, todo fluya, you might have a great time hanging out with him!”

In these summer days when we’re hoping to take full advantage of daylight and the many and varied opportunities presented to us throughout town, this is a good attitude to adopt.  There’s never a clear destination in mind except to difrutarse y a ver! (to enjoy yourself and see what happens!).  On Monday, that meant stopping in the Plaza San Martín on the way to buy postcards because two men were performing a slapstick improvisation.  On Tuesday, tagging along to an event Inglés y mate and spontaneously visiting a friend who bar-tends afterwards.  Wednesday, buying snacks at a sidewalk kiosk with friends from my program and then journaling on a park bench for an hour until my bus came.  Yesterday, taking an afternoon nap under the hot sun in one of the rings at the Plaza del Bicentenario and having a burger with my friends to celebrate the end of our standardized placement exam.

Because this week has held a lot of significance for me personally.  Since Sunday, I’ve been intentional about thinking through my week and developing goals that are attainable and keep me productive but leave a lot of room for spontaneity.  I write some short ideas on a sticky note and tuck it into my journal as I leave my house in the morning.  Later, when I’m adding a quick entry before class starts and my friends arrive, I read through them and think about how they can be put into action.  It might say “buy postcards after school” but turns into “a friend wants to hang out and has heard of this great bookstore, so let’s walk together and enjoy the time until we find this store or a kiosk that sells postcards”.  Or “do homework with friends” turns into “actually, we need to buy passport pictures for our visa process, and as long as we’re here, why not have some mate?”  The postcards are still bought and the homework still gets done (we hope), but now there’s an added element of going with the flow and simply enjoying time with friends without any sort of agenda in mind.  It’s been a great opening-up and waking-up process that’s kept me engaged and honestly feeling much more fulfilled at the end of the day, when I can look back on the day’s activities and discoveries and think, Yeah, today was good.

So, in the spirit of “todo fluya“, just some highlights from a few other days that were good:

You know, just a candid shot with Che Guevara, Argentine revolutionary who worked throughout Latin America, including Cuba, and in Africa. My program visited his house, which is now a museum, in Alta Gracia. (I should probably mention that his real name is “Ernesto” and he earned the nickname “Che” in his travels because it’s the Argentine equivalent of “Hey” that he used rather frequently.)

Che at a revolutionary meeting with his smiling fiancee in the background. There were a lot of amazing photos in the museum, but this one was my favorite.

Che’s mate. Enough said.

Also in Alta Gracia, my group visited the Estancia Jesuítica (estate of the Jesuit priests). For a total of three fathers — I think — there were expansive lawns, plenty of bedrooms, “modern” toilets, a blacksmith, and a wheat press, along with their three hundred servants.

Group photo at the Estancia. Samantha in particular (the girl next to me) is looking glamorous.

Now for a completely different cultural experience. I went to a free concert hosted by the municipality of Córdoba in a park not far from the university with these two ladies.

The concert was of the Jonas Brothers.

And the crowd went wild.

The day before we left for Alta Gracia, my class celebrated Ag’s birthday with the chocolate cake that I baked. It’s a testament to the fact that I have the best professor EVER because she encouraged us to take photos and eat the cake before we had our speaking test.

Finally, Lolita taking a well-earned nap on the rug beside my bed. This was before she shredded the only pencil I had — fortunately, she left the two-page, hand-written essay alone!

Now, if I might change the tone of this blog a little.

Recently, I’ve also been thinking about the way I’ve started integrating myself into this vida cordobesa (life in Córdoba).  At the beginning of my Cultural Realities class on Tuesday, we discussed what aspects of a culture are visible — clothing, gestures, personal space or contact, food — and which are more invisible — behavioral norms, religious beliefs, attitudes toward sexuality.  Our professor wanted to know what strategies we used to discover these things and attempt to include them into our daily lives.

In the process, I learned something special that I’d like to share with you.  This isn’t exactly “todo fluya“, but it was a spontaneous moment that I had with my host mom and wouldn’t trade for anything.

Raquel lives by a very traditional code of conduct for women.  When I come downstairs every morning, there is toast and coffee sitting at my place at the table and a Tupperware of lunch wrapped in a plastic bag at the far end of the table.  She always includes a meat, a salad, a fruit, and the most amazing chocolate bar filled with dulce de leche.  She cleans my room and my laundry every week without fanfare or announcement; one morning, I woke up at six and found her already cooking in the kitchen and sweeping the terrace.

I truly appreciate the way that she takes care of me — almost to the point of spoiling me — and I want her to know that.  After every meal, I thank her for the food and try to help her wash my dishes.  She always looks so surprised and self-consciously shoos me out of the kitchen.

I relayed this story to my professor, who explained that Raquel works out of love and commitment to my family without expecting anything from us in return.  In other words, telling her “thank you” is almost excessive or an insult, because it insinuates that I didn’t expect her to take care of me that day.

I wasn’t sure what to say.  Even if I hadn’t been raised in the South, where traditional manners are still in effect, I would want to thank her for everything she does.  She never complains about cooking and cleaning for Luis, Belén, and me, she’s the first one awake and the last one asleep, and on a lighter note, my friends at school are completely jealous of the lunches that she prepares for me every day.  How could I not tell her thank you, but how could I insult her?

Taking inspiration from my lunches, I put a slightly different plan into effect the next morning.  Yesterday was the day of my CELU exam, which will determine if I place into a level of Spanish accepted by the university, so I woke up a half-hour early.  Raquel noted that I had finished breakfast earlier than usual (since I usually sleep past my 7:15 alarm…) and we fell into easy conversation as she washed my breakfast dishes.  As we talked, I shared with her the anecdote about my friends envying my lunches, and she had the biggest smile on her face and laughed as I demonstrated my friends’ reactions.

When I finished, she merely said, “Well, Evelyn, I just want to make sure that you’re getting the most balanced lunch that I can provide, and since the apples are a lot smaller this week, I thought you might like having something sweet in your lunch.”  Then, the part that touched my heart, is that she thanked me for eating all of my lunch and dinner every day.  “The fact that you always eat my cooking shows me that you trust me and is the best compliment you could give.”  Then she explained a cultural norm here: when one thanks the host for the meal, it’s expected that the host, in turn, thanks the guest for partaking in their offering.

How beautiful is that?

Now that I know that my actions speak louder than my “Gracias“, and that it occasional makes Raquel shy, maybe I won’t say it as often.  But I plan to spend more time with Raquel to show her how much I appreciate her and let the feeling abide in my heart during the next four months here.  Truly, I have the best host mom ever, and I want her to know how much I love her and everything she does for me.

Gracias, Raquel.

For everyone reading, un beso, y hasta luego!

With March fast approaching, Córdoba is nearing the end of its summer season. Lately, the mornings and early evenings have been much cooler, with the hottest part of the day passing in the last hour of class.  It’s the perfect time to tie my hair up in a bun, slide on some sandals, and enjoy an easygoing camino through my neighborhood to the nearest supermarket (that isn’t Wal-Mart).

Since one of my classmates has a birthday on Thursday, I asked my host mom to help me prepare a more traditionally Argentine cake rather than emailing home for one of my sister’s recipes.  She very enthusiastically agreed, and after taking tea yesterday afternoon, I asked her for a list of ingredients to buy.  It’s a good thing she knew the ingredients and the best brands for each by heart, because I might never have found all of the materials I needed:

– una caja de torta chocolate “Exquisita”
- un dulce de leche “Sancor”
- una crema de leche “Sancor” o “La Sirenísima”
- una lata de duraznos
- 300 gramos de pulpa de frutilla
- cobertura de chocolate blanca y negra O tabletas de chocolate

Translated, we have:

– one box of chocolate cake
- one dulce de leche (literally “milk sweet”)
- one milk cream
- one can of peaches
- 300 grams of strawberry pulp
- white and dark chocolate frosting OR bars
Also included in this recipe are three eggs and 250 milliliters of milk.

Sounds amazing, doesn’t it?

Anyway, to buy these items, I needed to walk two blocks down Avenida Patria, take a right on Calle Buchardo, and walk another three blocks to Super Vea.  De ida y vuelta (there and back), it lasted right at an hour.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to share this stroll with you through photos.  Hope you enjoy the tour!

We’ll start with a view from my balcony. My house overlooks the trolley station (which is hidden behind the tree) and Banco Patagonia, the closest banking center to my house.

My first stop on this adventure was actually around the corner from Banco Patagonia at a local librería, or bookstore. I purchased photocopies there once before, but this time I needed to have my textbook spiral-bound since the pages were already disconnecting from the glue binding. The process took about ten minutes and cost me just over US$2.

Returning to Avenida Patria, there is a sidewalk kiosco (kiosk) with a Coca-Cola logo and a verdulería (produce stand) on the opposite corner. Both of these kinds of stores are very typical along commercial streets. The kioscos, which sell snacks, soft drinks, and other convenience items, are located almost every four stores. The verdulerías aren’t as common, but there are a good five of them within my three blocks of walking.

Along any busy street, it’s not uncommon to find graffiti advertising a local store or strong political viewpoint. This beautiful artwork encourages passersby to “Buscanos en feibu“, or “Find us on Facebook”, and includes the contact information and name of the store being advertised: “SALKA.”

Having just completed the first block of my stroll, this corner boasts a kiosco selling things such as sandwiches, soft drinks, cigarettes, and cell phone charge cards, and the other corner has a panadería-café (bakery-café) and a bicycle shop. Around 4:00 in the afternoon, most stores and restaurants close for about two hours during a period of descanso (napping), and then reopen around 6:00 for the merienda, which is considered snack time since dinner doesn’t begin until at least 9:00. Traditional bicycles and motorbikes are also very common here, especially among young adults.

Just before the intersection of Avenida Patria and Buchardo, there is a gas station called Sol. You may not be able to read the sign that contains the prices, but the lowest-grade gasoline is dispensed at AR$6,749 per liter. Converted into American units, that is roughly US$5.11 per gallon. Looks like we have the better deal right now!

Finally, my intersection! An arrow on each sign indicates the flow of traffic, since so many roads in Córdoba are one-way, as well as the grid coordinates to help orient yourself with a map of the city.

In residential areas within the city limits, most houses are side-by-side and gated, and the nicer houses have a small front yard within those gates. Also common are tile terraces within the houses and open-air hallways between different sections of the house.

Most residential streets are lined with trees that remind me of the walk from Old Main to Olin Building. They sure are beautiful to see en camino!

Finally, I arrived at the grocery store Super Vea, which was about half the size of a Bi-Lo or Publix but also included a small section of larger household appliances. The people who worked there were incredibly helpful and, of course, asked where I was from. It’s hard to blend in when you’re a blond girl with a strange accent! But I found everything I needed except for pulpa de frutilla, so I decided to start looking at some local verdulerías for the elusive ingredient. One day and seven tiendas later, I found it in a cotillón (party store) on the opposite corner of the bank, for AR$4 a 100-gram unit.

Upon my return home, the trolley that operates right across the street was dropping off its passengers, so I got to snap a quick picture! I have yet to ride this bus, which follows a large square through the centro along electrical cables, but I hope to soon.

Thinking about the full two weeks I’ve had to orient myself and gain more confidence in my explorations, I really love living in this big, bustling city.  I always imagined myself as the type who enjoyed small towns and villages frozen in another time, but after my January terms in Viña del Mar and Rome and my summers in Dallas and near Seattle, the pace and activity of city life suits me well.  I like waking up early to wait for the bus and memorizing primary streets that I can access within walking distance.  I love stumbling into a main plaza to find couples dancing tango to music provided by the municipal government.  It amazes me that I can walk six blocks from a modern shopping mall in favor of a thrift store and, two blocks further, a local artisans’ fair.  The daytime is filled with people to observe and brightly-colored signs to read, while the night offers the opportunity to socially interact with friends and other young adults your age, whether at a bar or in a boliche (club).  (And the dancing that happens in these clubs is not what you would expect — it is an interesting hybrid of close proximity and stylized footwork.)  The only way to encounter boredom here is to not venture outside, and where’s the adventure in that?

All that to say, I think I’m a city girl, and I’m going to love spending the next five months in this neighborhood and within the city limits of Córdoba.

As I promised in my last blog entry, I have recently had an adventure and am here to share it with you.

Yesterday afternoon, I canceled my prior plans to visit a weekly artisan’s fair with my classmates and instead traveled with my family to a vacation home in Carlos Paz.  The car ride lasted about an hour; as we traveled, I was able to see for the first time the country outlining Córdoba and not simply the large, highly-populated city that houses my university.  As we drew nearer to our stop, I discovered that the town lay along a river and that it was a popular locale for camping.  My classmates already want to revisit this area with me.

Google map of the distance from Córdoba proper to the province of Carlos Paz. The river that runs through this area spills into Lago San Roque, which provides the majority of Córdoba’s cleaning and drinking water.

It wasn’t until I arrived that I discovered that all of the extended family was there to celebrate my host mom’s birthday!  I spent the afternoon getting to know both brothers, their wives, and my two “sobrinos” (nephews).  We took mate, which is a kind of hot tea, with a peach and cream pie; passed by the river; walked into town to buy coal for the parilla (grill); and then I basically baby-sat the two boys and a neighbor girl until the sun set.  Everything was easy and relaxed, and I relished the opportunity to be part of a big family like the one I have back home.

Then came the part of the evening that I can’t believe I didn’t have the presence of mind to photograph: el asado.

Someone should have warned me exactly what this barbecue meal entailed prior to filling my plate.  We began with a delicious collection of potato salad, fresh tomatoes, and grilled chorizo (sausage).  In fact, it was so good that I went back for seconds on the vegetables.

That’s when the asado part of the meal came into play.  Next thing I knew, my host dad had placed two small portions of costilla (cow ribs) on my plate, along with my additional servings of potatoes and tomatoes.  The flavor was incredible, and I love steak, but I was already stuffed and couldn’t even think of eating more.  As soon as I finished, it was time to partake of vacio (cow abdomen?), which appeared in three layers of equally delicious meat.

I finally asked the obvious question: asado refers to a meal consisting of multiple kinds of barbecued meat.

Next time, I think I’ll wait to take seconds.

Truly, though, I had an amazing time yesterday.  I loved getting to participate in a distinctly Argentine tradition with my extended family and hope that we have similar family reunions in the future.  Enjoy the pictures that I did take, which are posted below!

Nos vemos, Evelyn

I stole this image from Google, as well, but it should give you an idea of the kind of meal we shared: chorizo, costilla, y vacio.

My host mom preparing mate with the hierva (mate herbs), hot water, and a little bit of sugar. Traditionally, mate is prepared continually in the same cup and passed around the circle as one person finishes the cup.

My host dad “a la parilla”. He prepared all of our asado.

My family. I live with Luis and Raquel, my host parents, and their daughter, Maria Belen, who is pictured on the far left. Their sons are Daniel and David, with wives Erica and Cecelia.

A picture of all the “hijos”, myself included!

Finally, the most precious kids ever, Mati and Sami, on our walk to the river.

It’s been almost a full week since I left my home base of upstate South Carolina and committed nearly six months of my life to Argentina.  I don’t want to bore anyone with details about how the flight went, how long orientation was, and whether or not I achieved the highest level of language placement in my program.  It seems more appropriate to reflect on how, after only four days, it feels as if I’ve existed in this pattern of living forever.

My host family has embraced me without any reservations.  The language barrier causes some communication problems, but not in a negative way.  We just keep trying until I find the right words, they fill in the blanks, or we good-naturedly shelve the topic for a later moment.  More than that, I feel comfortable.  I sat at the kitchen table my third night here, absentmindedly shredding carrots as my dad watched TV nearby and the puppy played with my feet from beneath my chair.  Now, I sit at my desk with a window view of la terraza and bustling calle below me, chipping away at homework and listening to my favorite music while the rest of America is just starting their days.  My parents are out, my sister is studying in the room next to mine, and everything is peaceful.  I love the easygoing nature of family life — the freedom to be an outgoing college student without defending myself but also be very much a part of their unit.

The friends that I’m beginning to make are wonderful.  We’re all in the same boat — struggling to communicate in a language we’re still learning, but eager to explore and travel and just enjoy the freedom and opportunities that we have here — so it’s almost effortless falling into step together and seeking out the next place to pasar el rato.  I’m very glad that everyone seems to be adventurous and enjoys going out to dance or just have a good time.  Tonight, we’re planning to try out a popular club, or boliche, that teaches tango lessons after we get back from an afternoon in el centro.  Thank goodness for free Internet access and Facebook to communicate with them about the next best thing!

Some cool things that I’ve noticed about Córdoba itself:

Public transportation is huge.  I caught a glimpse of this when I spent my first Interim in Viña del Mar, but it seems to be a lifestyle choice here.  My family spent about an hour driving me through downtown my first night here so that I could buy a Red Bus card.  Essentially, I charge it with about $40 pesos (8 USD) a week and scan it every time I step onto a colectivo.  It’s $4,10 a ride, so I’m doing my best to use it only twice a day: to the university or downtown and then back.  Everything else is within walking distance once I’m in the city!

El horario.  I wake up at seven to shower, dress, and eat a small breakfast of toast with dulce de leche (think Nutella) and coffee, arrive at the parada for my bus, and wait up to an hour for the right bus to come.  Class starts at 9:30 and lasts ’til noon, when we have a one-hour lunch break — for me, usually a salad, some chicken, and a fresh fruit.  Class goes again until 3:00, and then I have the afternoon completely free… How do I spend my time?  Go out with friends for a bit, catch the bus back home, have a descanso (nap), spend time with the family or just chill in my room.  It really doesn’t matter to my family what I do — they’re completely relaxed taking care of whatever they’d like to do — until we eat together sometime between 9:00 and 11:00, usually on the later side.  Then it’s start all over but in a new way every morning.

Blondes are not common.  I don’t think I need to elaborate much on the attention I’ve received since arriving here.

To be honest, since arriving here, I haven’t had some dramatic awakening of my spirit or taken an absurd amount of photos, nada de eso.  I feel at peace and in the right place, that my decision was good and I will continue to grow and learn, as I do with any new adventure.  I’m enthusiastic to see what the seasons bring and what lingual, cultural, and personal skills I’ll be able to bring back the the United States!

Until the next noteworthy experience, que tenga un buen día!

The barrio Nueva Córdoba, where most of the independent university students and younger generation live. The rueda de fortuna, or Ferris wheel, is a landmark of the area.

The Plaza España, distinguished right now by the Christmas tree of lights and giant gift-wrapped columns. This plaza is located at the bus stop right before the university.

The Plaza San Martín, located in the center of downtown and dedicated to a famous Argentine revolutionary.

The youngest member of our family, Lola, was kind enough to take a picture with me.

February 10, 2013. 12:28 a.m.

My flight leaves in just over eighteen hours.

It all seems so unreal.

Wasn’t I just that second-grader, transferring from Overland Park, Kansas, to Greenville, South Carolina, and experiencing the Spanish language for the first time?  Then that eager-to-please third-grader, accepting the challenge to speak Spanish for half the school day over the next three years?  What about the fifth-grader with sights aimed high, writing her first real essay in a Spanish class after returning from a two-week mission trip in Cancun, Mexico?

My unique educational upbringing most certainly shaped my attitude as a student and future traveler.  Even though Spanish would be moved to the back burner until high school and international travel until college, my short time spent at Blythe Academy of Languages stirred in me the potential to not only become bilingual but to develop critical thinking skills, adapt to an environment with higher expectations as well as less familiarity, feel the thrill of greater independence, and value cultures outside of my own.  Obviously, my fifth-grade mind didn’t think in these terms.  But as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.  Looking back, I can see how these valuable characteristics cultivated as I moved into the next few stages of my life, and the experiences that introduced these character traits were what I returned to as time went on.

High schools require two years of a foreign language to graduate.  I already knew basic Spanish from my elementary years, so it seemed like the logical option.  What I didn’t expect was to rediscover a passion for the language and fascination with the different cultures.  Two years turned into three, then four.  In my senior year, I had the incredible opportunity to volunteer in the trial run of Wade Hampton High School’s Hispanic Mentoring Program, in which I taught English to two ESOL students who had only barely been exposed to it.  There’s a lot that I could say about teaching styles and techniques that I learned during that time, but my biggest takeaway from that semester was the importance of being able to communicate across language barriers.  It wasn’t only a question of knowledge for these middle school students.  The more that they learned and grew comfortable practicing with me, the more motivated they were to continue and the more confident they became outside of our meetings.  I found empowerment on both sides, being able to connect through language.

My senior year experience, more than any class, is what convinced me to add Spanish as a double major to my intended chemistry degree.  From there, the journey only got better.  I enrolled in a civic engagement and service learning course for my Spanish major that introduced me to the Hispanic community in Spartanburg, South Carolina, and allowed me to serve as a playmate and tutor for low-income, primarily minority first-graders.  I ended up volunteering at the after-school program once a week for three semesters and taking an active role in Wofford’s on-campus monthly event, La U y Tú; I am now a coordinator for that event.

The end of my freshman year serving in the after-school program. I brought my digital camera and the kids went wild! Whoever took this photo has a shot at being a professional one day, in my opinion.

During my freshman Interim period, I traveled to Viña del Mar, Chile, as part of the Language & Culture through Study Abroad program–my first international experience since fifth grade.  The pictures speak for themselves as to how enriching and fun that program was; I came back wishing to return as soon as possible!  Then, the following summer, I spent ten weeks interning for an AmeriCorps-sponsored program called Project Transformation in Dallas, Texas.  Words cannot express how much that program transformed me.  Through teaching, hanging out with, and doing team-building activities with mostly Hispanic youth during the day and engaging in intensive spiritual community with students my age and older every night, I experienced a period of growth that only solidified the path I’m currently taking.  My greatest joy and desire is to participate in something meaningful.  Witnessing firsthand the positive changes in my youth over the course of eight weeks confirmed that I love to serve and that I relish using and growing my language skills to reach a cultural group that I care deeply about.  And in the United States, where the Hispanic population is growing, it’s definitely a useful skill.

Orientation morning in Viña del Mar, Chile. I loved the group that I traveled with, the summer breeze, and living so close to the beach!

I could not have asked for a more enthusiastic and alive group of youth my summer at Project Transformation. This picture was taken during week one, after an awesome afternoon of water slides and whipped cream pies!

All that background is well and good–actually, it seems a little close to my application essay for this semester abroad–but what am I getting at?  How do I explain these jitters of anticipation along with the absolute calm of facing my next six months in a South American country that I’ve never visited?

Let’s backtrack from my summer in Texas.  I have traveled again since my freshman year, but I think it’s interesting to note that, on my flight in about seventeen-and-a-half hours, I am flying through airports that are connected to my freshman memories.  Greenville-Spartanburg to Dallas-Fort Worth first, then from there to Santiago International, and finally to Córdoba.  In a way, I get to return to familiar places and relive those moments in memory before venturing into the unknown.

I was pretty excited when I realized that.

Now let’s travel even farther back.  Not so far that I’m in second grade again, but in that ballpark: my first real essay in fifth-grade Spanish.  It was to be a country overview, including history, geography, economy, and symbols.  I had a wonderful teacher from Costa Rica at that point in my life, and this man allowed each of us to choose which country we would present.  The better-known options were snatched up quickly–Spain, Mexico, Panama, even Costa Rica.  Being the hipster nerd that I was–which actually means that I liked a challenge and the obscure when it came to assignments–I picked a country that I knew absolutely nothing about.

Argentina.

This is where the unreal part comes into play.  Who could’ve imagined that the study abroad program that captured my attention and seemed to meet my needs and interests perfectly would be in the same country that my fifth-grade self eagerly researched for a Spanish immersion class?  Here’s the breakdown: second-largest city and self-proclaimed college town.  One month of intensive language, three months of Spanish elective courses, maybe a chemistry internship, and a crazy amount of travel excursions.  Not to mention every form of Latin dancing that supposedly goes on spontaneously in the streets.  When I return, I will be a senior at the BEST college in the Southeast and need only one additional literature course to complete my major.

It all feels too good to be true.  It’s a dream becoming reality.  A goal being accomplished.  Six months of adventure!!!!!

So, in approximately sixteen hours and fifty-two minutes, I will board a plane–hopefully by the window–, take a deep breath, play some soothing music, and let the wind carry me to Córdoba, Argentina…my new home.

February 10, 2013.  2:04 a.m.

I am eager, impatient, nervous, thrilled, curious, calm, passionate, READY.

(Did I do an okay job at expressing that?)