Exit Notes on Argentina

A brief list of observations/statements.

1) In Argentina, they don't speak "Espanol," they speak "Castellano". It's somehow "better". :]

[Oh, and no more Spanish keyboard, so please excuse my lack of accents & tildes...]

2) Car horns are NEVER used for traffic, only for beeping at women. I really think they believe that that is the actual, intended purpose of a car horn.

3) The people here are for the most part happy. This is something that if I had to take a guess, I would attribute entirely to Siesta Time.

4) The young people listen to our music. The older people listen to our older music with a Mariachi band dubbed in the background. If you thought you liked "Strawberry Fields Forever" before, wait until you hear it with Maracas.

5) Just because something is on the Menu does NOT mean they have it. Actually, it's better just to ask what they DO have.

6) All the music in the clubs sounds exactly the same--same reggaeton beat, every song. Yet still, every time the song "changes," girls scream and squeal, as if they want me to believe they can distinguish between them enough to have a "favorite".

7) In the end, everything comes down to soccer. Or Futbol.

8) Everyone has a dog. Every dog is a guard dog, no matter it's size.

9) Food is 1/3 the cost it is at home. Technology is double.

10) They have both an orphan problem AND a ban on inter-country adoption. I don't understand.

11) Cab drivers are unbelievably nice. The nicest I've ever encountered. And I've taken a LOT of cabs.

12) The country is absolutely beautiful.

13) The kids there are amazing.

14) I want to go back. ASAP.

Routine

Mi casa (Blurry, haha it's a digital picture of a disposable camera print)

Yo y Raquel


I'm in Rio de Janeiro now, but before I can start writing about Brazil, I feel I need to tie up Argentina a bit. I once said on here that life was getting too routine to write about, but I never actually described my routine. I'm writing this more for my own records than anything, so it may be boring and it's possible you'll just want to skip on ahead :]


Every day, Raquel (host mother) would wake me up at 8, though it would be around 830 by the time I was finally up, dressed, and ready for breakfast. Breakfast every morning was corn flakes and milk. The first morning,s he rattled off some Spanish at me, and being too fast too soon, I just said "Si". She then set a little bowl of sugar with a little tiny spoo9n next to my cereal, so I assume she must have asked if I like sugar with my corn flakes (I don't). She continued setting it there every morning; I don't think she ever noticed that I didn't touch it. Once I even tried to tell her that I don't actually put sugar on my cereal, and she took it away. She must have thought I just meant for that day though, cause the very next morning the little bowl was back and ready to sweeten. Oh well.



All throughout the 6 weeks Raquel never stopped insisting that I not lift a finger to help around the house. I still tried, of course. I was frequently "scolded" for even just bringing my dishes from the table to the sink..."DEJALOS!" (Leave them). She started hiding the dishrack from me so I wouldn't do the dishes, telling me I'd have no place to put them except back in the sink and then she would just have to do them again so I might as well not even try. She's tricky.


After breakfast I'd walk to the bus stop, located exactly 2 blocks away from my house. They don't exactly have a "bus schedule"... not even a map of the routes, actually. So of course no matter what time I left the house, the bus would come just as I was completing the first block of said 2 block journey.



The bus fare was 1.20 pesos, or about 40 cents. I'd stay on the bus for about 20 minutes, and then walk another half mile or so to Arco Iris. I'd normally get there at around 915. At first I'd stay all day long, but once the number of children halved, there wasn't enough for me to do and I'd leave around 1:00. I don't really need to write here how I spent my time at Arco Iris, as 90% of these entries have detailed exactly that.



I'd get home around 1:30 and eat lunch, which was always home-cooked and always delicious. Empanadas, Arroz con pollo, Milanesas, Marineras... I'd always try to make sure there were leftovers that I could eat for dinner, to avoid boiled hot dogs and dead sea noodles (They really like salt down here. And they don't put much thought into, nor even usually eat it seemed, dinner.)


There wasn't much I could do after lunch since everything was closed for siesta time, so I figured "When In Posadas..." and I started taking a daily post-lunch nap from 2-4 as well. Evenings were relaxed--or boring, whichever way you want to look at it. I did a lot of reading, filling out college applications, exploring the town, and trying to decipher Spanish television. Thursday-Saturday nights were always fun though. I'd get together with the other volunteers, often Veronica and Marcello too.


The water situation was interesting. Out of 1)Showering, 2)Washing dishes, and 3)Running the washing machine, only ONE of these could be done in the house at a time. So, if someone did not realize that I was in the shower and turned on the water in the kitchen sink to wash a plate, the shower would shut off on me (happened a time or two).



The shower, at least, had hot water. It was the only place in the whole house. The shower head only had 3 settings: Hot, Cold, And Mixed. Hot was always too hot, and medium was usually too cold, so I'd find myself switching between those two settings. Only problem being, the shower head was about 8 feet high, I don't know if to accomodate all of those Viking-descended Scandinavian volunteers or what, but the point is that I couldn't reach it. There were two ways I could change the water setting... 1) Jump. or 2) Get out of the shower, stand on the toilet, reach over, and change it. You can imagine I felt pretty foolish either way. When I went with option number 2, I always worried I was going to forget to wipe the wet footprints off of the toilet seat cover. I can just imagine the question mark materializing over Raquel's head upon seeing those. Thankfully, I never forgot. I don't think...



During the week I'd get in bed anywhere between 10 and 2, depending on how into my book I was...or who was on the computer to talk to :] And then at 8 am, it'd all start again.

Weekend Getaway

Most of the other volunteers here are new since I last mentioned them. Lucas (18, Brooklyn) is still here. Now the whole group includes the two of us plus Solvi (24, Norway), Reann (23, England) and Cressida (18, England).

We all decided to go up to Iguazu Falls this past weekend, because everyone had been saying that you can't be this close to them and not go see them. Friday after volunteering we got on a 2 o'clock bus up there. It was a 6 hour ride, which actually wasn't bad at all. I found the seats on the bus to be more comfortable even than first class airplane seats, there were tvs playing movies, and the A/C worked beautifully. We arrived at a hostel just after 8. Lucas and I had only decided very last minute to go, so we didn't have any accommodations booked. We were just riding up and seeing what happened...The other 3 had booked this place called Hostel Inn so we decided to try there. Luckily they had two open beds for Friday night.

It was the coolest place. There was a huge swimming pool, hammocks, ping-pong, foosball, a TV and DVDs. And it was full of probably a couple hundred people aged 18-30ish from all over the world. I would say most of them were from Europe--it seems to be a very popular thing there to take time off from work or school to travel for a few months or even a year. I ended up spending most of my time with a group of people coming from New Zealand, Ireland, and Australia and they were loads of fun. The different versions of English were almost enough entertainment just themselves.

It almost seemed a waste to pay for the bed as I hardly slept at all that whole weekend. I didn't want to miss anything. And it's a good thing I felt that way, because there weren't any open beds for Lucas or me on Saturday. The hostel was really chill; I think they knew that there were lots of people hanging around that weren't actually staying there, but didn't mind the extra food revenue. So, we both decided to save some money and just hang out there. I was going to sleep on the floor in the girls' room (Reann had brought a sleeping bag) and Lucas was going to sleep on one of the hammocks. Unfortunately we never had to do that. Cressida got really sick Saturday night, and asked for a doctor. A doctor came and suggested that she should go to the hospital, so an ambulance took her to a private clinic. We called Veronica and she and Marcello ended up driving all the way from Posadas and arriving at around 8 am. It was a good thing they took her in to see someone, because it turned out that she had Appendicitis. She had surgery yesterday morning (still in Iguazu) but I haven't had any update since then. Reanne stayed at the clinic with her, so that left 2 beds open for Lucas and me, but I can't say we were all that happy about it. I would have preferred the floor to all of that...

It's a shame that happened at all, but at least it was after she got to do everything else. We went to the falls on Saturday morning (SO SO cool, if you ever go to Argentina SEE THEM!) It's just a wall of waterfalls..about 270 of them in total I think. I've never actually seen Niagara Falls, but reportedly upon seeing Iguazu Eleanor Roosevelt exclaimed "Poor Niagara!". They can be seen from Brazil or Argentina, but I've been told the Argentina side is better. I didn't get to see them from Brazil. Apparently the difference is that Argentina gets you right near them (I was standing close enough to the bottom of one to get soaking wet from the spray) whereas Brazil provides more of a far-away panoramic view. I thought the Argentina side provided that pretty well too, but maybe the Brazilian view is more striking, I don't know.

I wish I had a bunch of great pictures to show, but I had the unfortunate luck of having my camera stop working on Friday night. It worked Friday morning in Posadas, but for some reason not on Friday night in Iguazu. Nothing seems to work to fix it. Luckily it still lets me look at pictures, but I can't take anything. I gave in and paid the ridiculous price to buy a disposable at the gift shop... I HAD to take some pictures. But they aren't yet developed. I gotta figure out this camera predicament though--I still have another month of traveling that I need to document.

The rest of Saturday we spent swimming and lounging around by the pool. Then at 8 the hostel ran a huge dinner event--an Asado. An Asado is the Argentinean version of a barbecue. Tons and tons and tons of meat--the biggest difference is that there isn't any barbecue sauce. For 30 pesos (10 bucks) they gave us unlimited meat (some of the best I've ever eaten), salad, bread, and drinks. Entertainment was also provided...They called it "Brazilian Entertainment", and it consisted of scantily-clad girls dancing around to drum beats. Well, the food was good anyway.

We had a blast through Saturday night, but it was downhill after that with Cressida getting sick and waiting for news Sunday morning from the clinic. Veronica, Marcello, Reanne, and Cressida are still in Iguazu now. Then the rest of us kind of got ripped off at the bus station. There are loads of different companies to choose from, and we were looking around for the same one we took over, but weren't too concerned about it since all of the buses we saw outside looked the same. A guy came up to us and was really helpful, he could tell we were foreign and was like what do you need, etc etc. We told him a bus to Posadas, and he said great, we have one leaving in 5 minutes. He sold us the tickets--12 bucks, same price as the way over--and sent us on our way. We went out to find our platform, and someone directed us past all of the big nice buses to a little shuttle bus with a cardboard sign in the front printed "POSADAS". I thought it was a joke, but it wasn't. We rode 6 hours all the way back to Posadas on a tiny little shuttle bus with no AC (I thought I was going to die), hard seats, and no TVs. I almost laughed though...If it was the USA, I'd be back in the terminal in 10 seconds getting a refund and switching companies, but I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do here in Argentina. All over this company's booths were pictures of big luxury buses...we totally got taken. I'm not sure what we could have done differently though--I guess it happens. I really wondered what we'd gotten into when the bus stopped about halfway over and the drug inspectors got on with dogs and asked to see all of our passports. I was worried that the inspector was about to slash our seats and cocaine or something would just come pouring out and the driver would be taken off in handcuffs and the rest of us would just be sitting there on our stupid drug bus in WhoKnowsWhere, Argentina. But, the police got off seemingly satisfied, and we did make it back to Posadas after 6 long, hot hours.

You go off looking for an adventure,
You'll find one.

So I suppose I've more or less failed at this;

but it's never too late to try again.

A small, short list of excuses:

1) I'm trying to fill out transfer college applications and everything is due by the end of this month. Writing time is going towards essays.

2) Life is more of a routine, with fewer things that stand out as new.

3) There are only half as many kids now... I spend too much time thinking about how much I miss the others.

Now that that's out of the way...

Yes, I miss the other kids. It was a challenge, with all of them there, but it was never dull and I loved it.

I miss at breakfast every morning when those 3 boys would rediscover that my name rhymes with the Spanish word for "spoon" and sing "SARAH CUCHARA SARAH CUCHARA SARAH CUCHARA" over and over and over again, pointing their spoons at me and laughing so hard they'd almost fall off the bench.

I miss the way they'd search the house for anything they could find with English words on it, like it was a competition, and then push eachother out of the way and hold whatever they'd found up to my face saying "Translate MINE!" "No mine!" "NO MIIINE!"

I miss the way they'd taunt me so I'd run after them until I was bright red and falling over with their "Yuuu cand catcha meee"s--one of the only complete phrases they ever seemed to remember.

I miss the way they'd want to play soccer against me, deeming my team "America" and their own team "Argentina," so they could "beat me miserably just like in real life." The way they'd run up and jump-hug me when they scored a goal before realizing that they shouldn't be celebrating with me because I am the enemy.

I miss the way they'd introduce me to any of their friends in the park. "This is Sarah and she's from THE UNITED STATES! She speaks ENGLISH!" Without fail, the other kids would be like "NO WAY!" (the exact reaction they were looking for) and then they'd ask me to talk and all sit there staring in a trance, not understanding a word and loving it.

I miss the flowers in my pocket.

I miss the pictures labeled "para Sarah".

With the other kids it's much more like babysitting, but those boys were my friends if I've ever had any.

The two older boys that are still left think I'm a huge bore now and that's hard too. Now that there are only 6 kids, the 3 little ones are almost always left solely in my care--Alicia and El Señor just take the time I am there as their time off. Having to look out for a 1, 2, and 3-year-old without the help I used to have from the older kids, I can't really play too many games of soccer or tag anymore. It's a whole different experience, and they don't really understand. All they see is that I used to be tons of fun and now I always have babies in my arms.

Maybe writing about it will help. Get it out of my system a little bit. I'm trying to focus on how lucky I was to have had such a good time at all, even if it was only for a week and a half when I would have liked it to be for all six. I need to, because there is a new volunteer working with me starting today, and I need to stop telling her "how it used to be," because that's not fair.

I think the worst part is that I know the boys are happier where they are. And I don't mean that selfishly: They live at their dad's house with their older brother of about 17 or so. Their dad still lives with that other woman that doesn't want them at her house. It seems like the best thing ever to them! They don't have parental figures--no one to tell them to stop watching so much tv, no one to wonder where they are, no one to make them do their homework (if they're even going to school), no one to make sure they stay out of trouble. I could find solace in letting them go if I knew it was a step forward in their lives, but it's not and I'm worried about their futures and that only augments everything.

And there's nothing I can do

except write about it

and hope for the best.