Por favor, ¿no tenés una moneda?

In Buenos Aires, one peso is worth so much more. The city is in the midst of a massive coin shortage. Although I don't know the source of this problem, I do know the result: a daily, desperate search for monedas (as coins are called here). Buses - by far the best way to travel - do not accept bills, making coins a necessity for most Buenos Aires residents. Cashiers angrily beg their customers for correct change or even lower the price to avoid losing monedas. A few weeks ago, everyone rode the subway for free, because the company simply couldn't make change. Stores hang signs in their windows: "Tampoco tenemos monedas." We don't have coins either.

As a new arrival searching for bus fare, I would innocently walk into kioskos (Argentinian convenience stores) and hand over a 2 peso bill, expecting a shiny one peso coin and a smile along with my purchase. Instead, I received angry looks, headshakes, and sometimes a curt "no." The kioskeros didn't want my business if it was only a trick to make them part with their monedas.

I soon learned to be slier. Simple transactions now involve mental warfare. Assessing the cashier, I must decide which tact to take: will I smile and play dumb, confront his frown with an equally unmovable glare, or just lie about the contents of my purse when he pleads, "una moneda, ¿puede ser?"

For one glorious month, this all changed. One unspeakably kind cashier gave me five one-peso coins. Secure in my supply, I started to spend my monedas a bit more freely, and through this experience developed a theory of moneda karma. For every time I cut a weary cashier some slack, and forked over exact change, I was rewarded not only with a pleasant human interaction, but also, at some point, with a cashier who would be equally kind to me. For several weeks, I had a steady moneda supply, which I made last by walking and taking the subway whenever possible. At a street fair, I bought a one peso churro with a one-peso coin, and the vendor's eyes lit up with gratitude. I was living the good life.

I spent the last of my monedas yesterday, and now I'm just like everyone else, lying to strangers and chasing fallen five cent coins into gutters. I don't know where this problem came from, and I have no solution. But I do know that paying in exact change, once a convenience, now means defeat.

Uruguay

I spent last weekend in two Uruguayan cities, Colonia and Montevideo. Colonia is only an hour from Buenos Aires, just across the Río de la Plata. As it's name would suggest, most people go there to see the 15th century Portuguese colonial architecture. In general, the town is absurdly charming: roughly cobblestoned streets, short colorful houses, and, as promised, beautiful colonial buildings. Despite the extremely touristy environment (and the corresponding price hike), I couldn't help but fall in love. We spent most of the morning in the town center, wandering down narrow streets and resting periodically on the small beaches that bordered it all. In the late afternoon, we rented bikes and rode down the rambla (beach front path) for a mile or two. We eventually got to a larger beach, where we drank beer and watched the sunset. I learned almost nothing about history or culture in my time in Colonia - a plaque told me that the Spanish and Portuguese spent a lot of time fighting over this settlement - but it was a beautiful, charming, and overall absurdly pleasant place to spend a day.




The next day, we took a bus to Montevideo. A lot of people I've talked to, especially proud porteños, don't like Montevideo, and I can see why. We arrived on a chilly, overcast Saturday, and the city center seemed deserted. All the touristy things our guide book had recommended were closed, and I was the only person on most of the streets I walked down. Nonetheless, after a day of wandering by myself, I really began to like the city. Montevideo is not tourist-friendly, but beneath the almost morbidly tranquil surface, there was actually a lot happening. Almost every block had a bookstore or music store, usually advertising itself as a place to find local books and music (after browsing my third bookstore, I succumbed to the inevitable and left the city with three new books). While wandering, I also came across a children's chess tournament, a plaza full of people drinking mate, and a milonga (tango dance club) on the street. The milonga was probably the best part. Almost everyone there appeared to be over the age of 70, and this weekly dance was clearly a big thing for them. They had come with their own chairs to sit on, and cheered on their friends as they took breaks from dancing. A lot of the people there didn't dance that well, but I loved the fact that they wore casual clothes and had fun with it. After taking a tango class for the past three months, and worrying about things like correct form and rhythm, it was refreshing to see people make mistakes, laugh, and keep going. I saw lots of families, with grandmothers dragging their grandsons out to dance, and a few couples that, despite their age, danced incredibly, and had clearly been doing so for decades.

The next day, I went to the local market with my friends. Unlike the markets in Buenos Aires, which are fun but filled with clothes, jewelry, and other touristy knick-knacks, this one catered to actual Montevideo residents. The vendors sold strange things, like pet rats, broken televisions, and discount underwear. I didn't want anything, but the people watching was great, and I felt like I was seeing the real city, something that is usually harder to do with only two days in a place. We also wandered around Palermo, the historically black neighborhood and the home of the Candombe, an awesome Afro-Uruguayan dance. The houses were short and colorful, and it had a really different style than the rest of the city. We ate lunch at a restaurant there, and the waiter was so nice to us. In general, Montevideo seemed like a very pleasant, liveable city. Less in-your-face about its culture than Buenos Aires, but no less interesting for that.

From what I could gather, Uruguay as a country is poorer and more rural than Argentina. In our two and a half hour drive from Colonia to Montevideo, we saw nothing but green, with real live gauchos (South American cowboys) wearing their traditional clothes and riding horses down the side of the road. Unlike in much of Argentina, these men had not dressed like this to woo gullible Americans to their estancia (farm) turned tourist trap. People actually still live this way in Uruguay. Of course, there are still gauchos in Argentina and there are still tourist traps in Uruguay, but the difference in overall atmosphere was striking.

My travel-mates were another great aspect of the weekend. The group consisted of two Italians, two Spaniards, a Japanese girl and two Americans, mostly friends from my Spanish class, plus a couple of their friends. Since Spanish was our only common language, and since I had no computer access, I spoke and thought in Spanish the entire weekend. Regardless of their nationality, the people were generally awesome, and we all got along well. Uruguay was not Argentina, and for that reason, many Argentinians dislike it. But to me, it was an interesting country in its own right, and I feel lucky to have seen a small part of it.

Further Information

For anyone interested in reading more about Argentina, from a great writer who puts my blogging to shame, I highly recommend this website: http://www.idlewords.com/argentina.htm. The article about eating in Buenos Aires rings particularly true.

Thanks for the tip, Brett.

These are a few of my favorite things

Tomorrow, I leave for a 19 day trip through Patagonia. After that, I will come back up to Buenos Aires to meet my family, do some traveling with them, and show them around Buenos Aires. I'll try to find time to update, but I might have to save it all for when I get back to America on December 31st.

In honor of my last day in the city (save 4 days at the very end with my family, which will be a whole different thing), I have decided to write about the things I will miss most about Buenos Aires and Argentina. These range from places to people, from the very personal to things anyone would experience here.

1. The café culture, taken straight from Paris. I don't drink coffee, but I love the ritual of spending an afternoon in a café with a friend or a book and some medialunas (croissants). Coffee, or the hot chocolate I usually order, comes with a tiny glass of sparkling water and a biscuit. Waiters don't work for tips, so they never try to rush you out. In fact, it is usually quite a challenge to get the bill. Especially in the hot weather, I've found myself retreating into air-conditioned cafés, ordering nothing more than an orange juice and reading for hours until it gets dark.

2. Casual compliments. Affection is built into Argentinian Spanish (and that of other countries). Cashiers often greet me with, "hola, mi amor" (hello my love) or, "qué tal, mi vida" (how are you, my life). When I ask for directions on the street, people respond with "por allá, linda" (that way, beautiful) or "a la izquierda, divina" (to the left, divine). These compliments come from men and women of every age. Though these phrases are common and not particularly serious, they almost always make me smile.

3. Ice cream. Simply put, Argentinians do ice cream right. And they do it a lot. Boutique ice cream parlors cover the city, showcasing the Italian influence with rich, smooth, home made flavors. A small will get you two flavors, adding an extra element of creativity to ordering. My favorites are Banana Split (banana ice cream with chunks of chocolate and dulce de leche) and dark chocolate, even better when combined.

4. Twice a week, I sit in a park that makes everything in the world seem right. It is only two blocks from UBA, so I usually go to class early and spend some time doing homework, or simply sitting. It is huge and set off from the street, so if you sit by the lake near the middle, the sound of cars magically disappears. Unlike many other parks in the city, where the grass is worn down and uncomfortable to sit in, and the prevalence of sketchy looking people prevent me from fully relaxing, I always feel comfortable here. It is busy, but I can always find a bench. There is so much going on - exersize classes, jugglers, drummers, families walking, dogs playing, swans swimming - but never too much. In this park, I can concentrate on my work without trouble, but I can also spend time just staring, watching the people and the animals play.

5. San Telmo. The neighborhood I live in is easily my favorite in the city. It is artsy and funky, with great night life, while at the same time small and laid back. Unlike many other areas in BA, there is a real neighborhood feel. I've gotten to know people just from spending time in the area and have developed a small collection of people I say hi to on the street. It is also home to most of the reggae clubs (and, on a related note, most of the stoners) in the city. It is one of the homes of tango, and there are tango clubs everywhere. It also has one of the most lively gay scenes in the city (including a queer tango club). All of these people come together, along with most of the tourists in the city, on Sundays for the San Telmo fair, a collection of artisans, musicians, street performers and food vendors who occupy 10 blocks or so until dusk, when the San Telmo murga club dances and drums down the length of the fair, signaling the end.

6. Everyone I know here leads a double life. This is especially true among students and professors, since it is nearly impossible to be just a student or just a professor. But everyone else tends to have a lot going on as well. Since the economic crash of 2001, NGOs have flourished in Buenos Aires, and each one seems to have an army of dedicated volunteers. A staff member of my study abroad program also volunteers as a therapist for Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo (http://www.abuelas.org.ar, click on the left side for English version). My building manager trains street kids for the Pan American games. My host mom volunteers as a therapist at an orphanage. I don't want to diminish the destruction of the economic crash, nor of the general lack of public funds here. But it has had the pleasant side of effect of encouraging a cultural solidarity we lack in America. People here do things for free, because they see that they must be done and that no one else is going to do them. To me, this is beautiful.

7. Tango and folklore. I love Argentinian music and dance. My favorite weekend nights have been spent at milongas (tango clubs) and peñas (folklore clubs), where people of all ages dance until dawn. Whatever attempts I might make to describe these songs and dances would fall short, but here is a good example: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3S4bFC2DasI&feature=related. Unfortunately, this video does not capture the liveliness of the clubs themselves, where people pull each other from tables to dance with grins and affection, enjoying every moment of what they are doing. These dance clubs further exemplify the double lives porteños live. I went to a peña last night and met a group of accountants who danced beautifully. Respected government ministers work all day, and dance tango all night.

8. The daily thrill of speaking Spanish. Some days, the language is far more frustrating than thrilling. But on the whole, learning Spanish here has been incredibly rewarding, and has added an exciting element to otherwise mundane daily interactions. "Oh my god," I think, "I just bought batteries! And I didn't have to repeat myself once!"

9. Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo. I have written about them here many times, but I could not neglect to mention these women just once more. Working with them has been a privilege, and without question the best thing I did here.

10. Rituals. Two extremely important customs here are saludos (greetings) and mate. Everyone greets everyone with a kiss on the cheek (just one, to the right) when they see each other. Meetings of large groups result in a ten minute long frenzy of kissing in every possible combination. If you forget to greet someone, better to do ten minutes later than not at all. I also love the ritual of drinking mate, a bitter tea, out of a hollow gourd with a metal straw (http://www.nutricion.pro/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/mate.jpg). People do drink mate alone, but when with other people, they always share. People pass their mate gourds in a circle, each person drinking as much as they want, refilling the water whenever necessary. I love both of these rituals, because they make interaction automatically personal. No one worries about personal space or germs. There is an affection in daily life, even among acquaintances, that we lack in America. Many Americans say that they consider hugs - rarer in Argentina - more intimate than kisses. While that might be true, Americans only hug those people with whom they are already intimate, while Argentinians kiss everyone, and pass their mate to anyone that looks thirsty.

Jujuy and Argentinian History

One of the FLACSO staff members suggested that I interview our guide about human rights in the province of Jujuy as part of my work with Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo. As some of you have figured out, we made a facebook page for Las Madres, so he thought it would be a good idea to post the interview there. I was somewhat hesitant about the idea, since our guide is an archaeologist, and neither of us had any idea about his human rights knowledge. Nonetheless, the interview ended up being one of the coolest parts of the trip.

First, I learned about the dictatorship in Jujuy. He said the general perception in Argentina has always been that most of the disappearances occurred in Buenos Aires, but more and more information has come out in recent years about massive disappearances and other human rights violations throughout the country. Similarly, there are also formidable, if less internationally famous, human rights groups in the interior of the country. Many of these groups formed before the dictatorship to deal with systematic mistreatment of the mostly indigenous workers in this part of the country, and took up the cause of the disappeared people when it arose (two intimately related problems, as I will explain below). This is different than the Buenos Aires-based human rights groups, which universally formed in the middle of the dictatorship, when syndicates, political parties, and other traditional advocates of the oppressed were being silent. Both versions are pretty damn impressive, but I find the differences interesting and telling of the politics in the different parts of the country. In Buenos Aires, the levels of oppression that workers, poor people and their supporters experienced during the dictatorship was new. Under Perón, they'd been the most important political group, and they'd benefited hugely from his policies. They actually had a lot of power to negotiate, and their standards of living had risen hugely when he was in power. Although this had changed from 1955 on, lots of the social programs he'd put in place were still there. I'm not saying the working class in Buenos Aires had it easy, but compared to the workers of Jujuy, they were powerful. In contrast, people in the poorer northwest of Argentina have dealt with flagrant human rights violations for all of Argentinian history, starting in 1880 when the Argentinian army went off on a mission to kill as many indigenous people as they could. The ones that survived, as large communities in the northwest did, had pre-established human rights groups before the dictatorship because they had more human rights problems.

The most infamous incident regarding the dictatorship in Jujuy regards Ledesma, a sugar and paper-producing company in the region. At the time of the dictatorship, its workers lived in absurdly bad conditions. They had to live in the company town and receive credit rather than money, forced to buy whatever they needed from the company store, running up huge debts and finding themselves forever bound to the company. On top of that Ledesma has polluted the surrounding environment, making many of its workers sick. During the dictatorship, workers began to fight back. Many of them denounced company practices and tried to hold it legally accountable for the deaths it had caused. A docter, Luis Aredez, also famously denounced the company after treating many of its sick workers. The dictatorship and Ledesma teamed up to get rid of their shared problem on one night, now called la Noche del Apagón (Blackout Night). Ledesma turned off the electricity, while representatives of the dictatorship stormed the town and kidnapped hundreds of workers (somewhere between 200 and 400, depending on who you ask). A lot of them eventually survived, but many are still disappeared, and the mothers and family members of those affected still hold a march every year.

The guide also told me about his personal human rights work. There's a building in the Buenos Aires Province that was an important detention center - a place where the army would bring people to torture and kill them during the dictatorship. Toward the end of its regime, the government knocked down the building to hide the evidence, so our guide (an archaeologist) went in with a team of archaeologists and architects to reconstruct the building plans and show how it had been used. Through their work, they eventually got the site declared untouchable. Now, nothing can be built on top of it, so that the government's plans of covering up the evidence won't succeed. I found it really inspiring to listen to him talk about using his seemingly unrelated occupational skills to accomplish something so important. In general, he was an extremely passionate, well-spoken, intelligent man. I was so happy that I got to talk to him about things we never would have discussed otherwise.

One of the major things that never fails to amaze me about Argentinian history - and something that the interview highlighted - is the power of class divisions. The political environment of Wesleyan has made me automatically skeptical of simplistic historical interpretations that pit the rich vs. poor, capitalists vs. workers, landholders vs. peasants, oppression vs. freedom, in neat alignments. Of course, things have not been so simple in Argentina either. Nonetheless, the degree to which the rich - whether they be landholders, industrialists, or army generals - have aligned against all forms of poverty and freedom of expression in violently oppressive, dictatorial governments is astounding. The most recent dictatorship is the most extreme example, but only one of many such regimes. The alliance of Ledesma and the dictatorship is a perfect example of this dynamic. It's important to add that even the most worker-friendly government - Peron's first term - was pretty censorship happy. Nonetheless, the rich have been uniformly more authoritarian and repressive throughout Argentina's history.

Ironically, despite the terrible things the Argentinian government has done, in particular to its poor and liberal people, it is these very people who still consider the government the answer to their problems. It is these people who block the streets and cancel school on a weekly basis, protesting for more government spending in health, education, social security, unemployment, etc, etc. This, also, is a simplification of the issue, as Argentina has an incredible amount of NGOs and ridiculously dedicated volunteers (something I plan to write about in another post), but people nonetheless seem to expect a lot of their government, even though it has disappointed them repeatedly. I'm not sure what they should be doing instead, but it seems like there has to be a better way.

I have no conclusions yet, but these are some things I've been thinking about a lot lately.

Travels, Part 3

Last weekend, I went on the second FLACSO-sponsored trip, this time to Jujuy, a province in far northern Argentina, right on the border with Bolivia. The geography up there is almost identical to Southwestern America, with cacti, plateaus and colorful, snow-free mountains. I loved being out of the city and in a quiet environment, where mornings were actually peaceful and the stars actually came out at night. Our hotel was in a beautiful location, basically a ten minute walk from the village of Tilcara, in front of a mountain and in between two farms. There were no planned activities our first night, so some friends and I took a walk into the village and easily found the main plaza, which has a craft fair, and then a smaller plaza near it. There was a church by the smaller plaza, with a visiting choir, so we went in and watched the Tilcara choir and then a few songs from the visiting one. It was actually a great show. The set-up was really laid back; the Tilcara group had no uniforms, were of all different ages, and seemed to be having a genuinely good time. They had a guitar accompanying them and sang local music, which was more folksy than religious.

On our second day, we went to the Pucará de Tilcara, which is an ancient Incan settlement. One of our guides for the trip was an archaeologist working there, so he showed us various parts of the Pucará and told us about how ancient Incan civilization had functioned. It was interesting, but I was more excited about the beautiful landscape around us, and more interested in learning about the indigenous cultures that occupy the area now.

After that, we went to Humahuaca, another village in the area. The village was very charming, and clearly re-designed to elicit that reaction in tourists. The dynamic of the visit made me very uncomfortable. Basically, our tour buses dropped us off next to the craft fair, left us with directions about how to shop, and then came back an hour later. They sold beautiful things, and I did shop, but I think that demonstrates the problem. The situation left both parties (the sellers and the buyers) with no choice about who they could be in the situation. Suddenly, we were all terrible, disgusting people. The women selling stuff shamelessly attempted to guilt us into buying things, one even shouting obscenities at my friend who changed his mind. For our part, we were superficial blond tourists, interested only in bringing home cheap souvenirs and getting a picture of the idyllic village. We saw nothing beyond the five blocks of stalls, and didn't talk to a single local outside the context of buying and selling. I'm actually disappointed in FLACSO for showing us the area in this way, as this was supposed to be our 'educational trip' and we learned almost nothing about the current situation of the places we visited. Things that stuck out though were the terrible state of nearly everyone's teeth, apparently an effect of chewing coca leaves, and one woman who barely spoke Spanish, because, it seemed, she had only learned Quechua.

The third day was by far my favorite. We started out the morning with a drive to Las Salinas Grandes, huge plateaus which are used to mine salt. The drive was beautiful; we gradually rised in elevation until we were above all the villages and most of the plants. We got out of the bus at the highest point, considered a very important place by the local people. There was a structure built there, essentially a pile of rocks, whose name I cannot remember for the life of me. Apparently, everyone is supposed to stop there and offer coca leaves, cigarettes, or alcohol to have good luck on the rest of your journey, something that truckers and other passersby still do. The staff had bought coca leaves to help us with the altitude sickness, so we each dropped a few into the pile. I recognize that this was just as much a superficial essentialization of indigenous culture as our time in the villages, but I enjoyed it a lot more. At least we were learning something about local traditions. Also, as someone who has always loved mountains, it made a lot of sense to me that they considered this place special. I think there is something really spiritual about being very, very high up, and I don't think you need to speak Quechua to understand that.

After this quick stop, we went to Las Salinas Grandes, which were ridiculously cool. It was just the strangest, most unique environment I've ever seen. Basically, about 10,000 years ago, this flat, mountain top area used to be a sea. The sea has since dried up, but the salt remains. We learned a bit about the natural environment of the place, the way the salt is harvested, and the lives of the workers who do it. Apparently, this is one of the last few salt flats where the workers do most of the work by hand, riding their bikes in from surrounding villages each day. They have been fighting to keep their labor-intensive form of mining relevant and to not be replaced by machines as they have been in most other places. Although I enjoyed the talk, I spent most of my time just taking pictures and staring. The ground looks smooth in the pictures, but it actually consisted of salt granules. You could pick up chunks and lick them (which, of course, we all had to do).



After Las Salinas, we went to our last village turned craft-market, Purmamarca. I actually enjoyed our time in this village a whole lot more, mostly because I spent about ten minutes shopping and spent the rest of the time on a hike with our other guide who lives in Purmamarca. First, she took us to another rock pile, with a different name that I have also forgotten. This structure existed as part of the village's carnival celebration, which she told us all about. Basically, it's a giant party, but one that involves masks, costumes, specific dances, and lots of other interesting rituals. We then went on a short hike to see El Cerro de los Siete Colores (The Seven-Colored Hill). I'm not sure if I counted a full seven colors, but the area was so beautiful, and I loved just being out and walking among the hills.


All in all, it was a great weekend, and I was honestly not ready to go back to Buenos Aires at the end of it. Luckily, I'll have lots of time to travel at the end of the semester. There's so much to see in this country, and I there's no way I'll be able to get to all of it. I guess that's the way it should be though.

Travels, Part 2

The weekend after Tigre, I went to Córdoba, the capital city of the province with the same name. The second biggest city in Argentina, Córdoba has lots of well-preserved colonial architecture, as well as seven universities, making it historically interesting and currently vibrant. Although the city itself is huge, it is walkable and possible to see in a day with enough energy. Since there are lots of interesting towns near the city, we, like many people, spent a day in Córdoba, and spent the rest of our time doing day trips.


We spent the first day in the city itself, giving ourselves a tour first of the main plaza, which featured the original cabildo (local seat of Spanish government, see picture below) and a church built in the same era (see above). More than anything, I was interested in the exhibit outside, a tribute to people disappeared from Córdoba during the military dictatorship of the 70s. The exhibit featured clotheslines strung across the narrow street in between the cabildo and a church (not the one pictured above) with pictures of the disappeared people hanging on them. Most interesting was the graffiti written on the side of the church, calling the institution out on its complicity in these disappearances and accusing it of similar offenses today.


After that, we went to several small but interesting museums. First, the historical museum, built in the 18th century mansion occupied by Rafael Nuñez, former governor of Córdoba and then Viceroyal of the Río de la Plata. Although the exhibits went into slightly too much detail about the way Nuñez and his family had lived, it was a beautiful old house with a great courtyard in the middle and featured such ridiculous things as a private chapel and a music room. It was one of those old houses that looks reasonably sized from the outside, but has endless winding passages that lead to rooms previously invisible. Being the history nerd that I am, I'm always interested in seeing things like reconstructed bedrooms and servants quarters, so I very much enjoyed myself. We also went to the museum of fine arts, which was very small and in an interesting, old house. I had mixed feelings about the artwork itself, which ranged in time periods. Some was beautiful, but a decent amount was very so-so. Nonetheless, we all agreed that the museum itself was well-organized, aesthetically pleasing, and an all-around pleasant place in which to spend time.

At the end of the day, we met up with Silvia, my host mom's cousin who lives in Córdoba. She teaches at a university right on the Manzana Jesuítica (Jesuit Block), a world heritage site featuring a church, university and high school, all built in the 17th and 18th centuries. We met Silvia, as well as two of her students and a fellow teache at a café on the corner. They were all incredibly nice and seemed genuinely excited to take time out of their days to show us their city. Unfortunately, we had shown up almost an hour late, due to confusion with directions, so they didn't have much time. We walked into the courtyard of the high school, where they told us a bit about the history of the area, and then essentially guilted us into taking the official tour by forcing us to decide in front of the guide. We had arrived at 7 that morning after an overnight bus ride, so we were all tired and not much in the mood. Nonetheless, we all agreed later, the tour ended up being the best part of the day. We learned first about the history of the church. The tour guide focused on the way the architecture reflected the different attitudes the Jesuits held towards blacks and indigenous people. While they considered the former sub-humans who they could use for slavery without issue, they gave the indigenous people slightly more credit, considering them worthy of skilled crafts and conversion to Christianity. The church featured an entire half devoted to indigenous Christianity, and was in large part constructed by this group. After that, we moved into the school portion of the block (all three buildings were connected), where we saw beautiful old bibles and other books. We also saw an old classroom that had been used for thesis presentations, and learned about the incredibly high pressure manner in which students received (or attempted to receive) their doctorates. Basically, the student would sit on a high podium in the middle of the room. On one side sat all of his friends and family, and on the other side all those in the city who had already received their doctorates. The latter group questioned him while former group sat and watched. Only the student's tutor sat in his area of the room, the one form of symbolic support allowed him. If the student passed, he would parade through the city with all the other academics. If not, he would find out immediately in front of all his friends and family. I found it really interesting to learn about the central role education has always played in Córdoba. It's still considered Argentina's university center, and it has also been the center of several important student movements, including the one that won free and open education in Argentina. My experiences at UBA have made me very interested in the different ways of viewing and enacting education, and this historical quirk added another piece to the puzzle.

We had chosen Córdoba for that particular weekend because Villa General Belgrano, a small, nearby town up in the sierras was celebrating it's very own Oktoberfest, the third biggest in the world. On our second day, we took the bus to what felt like an alpine village in Germany. Though the town really does have a high German population, these features were surely exaggerated for the benefit of tourists. Nonetheless, the town was charming, the surroundings were beautiful, and the beer was good. It was basically an all-day party, featuring a parade of people in traditional German, Italian and Swiss costumes, as well as, more confusingly, Greek, Nordic, Arabic and Japanese ones. We ate pretzels and did folk dances of questionable origin and just enjoyed the lovely spring day. Please note the two men with pointy hats in the background of this picture.

I spent my last day Córdoba alone, overwhelmed by homework and not interested in the horseback riding trip my friends were taking. I went to Alta Gracia, a small town about an hour outside of Córdoba to see the Jesuit estancia (farm) there, another colonial world heritage site. The building and adjacent church were beautiful and interesting, although not very different from what I had seen the first day in Córdoba. I learned a bit about life on the estancia and the activity of the Jesuits throughout Argentina, and then began my trek to the bus station. I think I enjoyed this part more than anything that day, because I saw a large chunk of Alta Gracia. Although it wasn't a particularly interesting town, I realized that I get a thrill just from traveling itself, seeing people and things I've never seen before. As I walked past rows of houses, some dilapidated on dirt roads and others fairly large and new-looking, I thought of all the people in the world, and imagined a life in this little town on a hill top in the province of Córdoba in Argentina. It's amazing how many people there are in the world, and how many different ways they live their lives. To me, traveling isn't necessarily about seeing the most beautiful or interesting of these, although as a tourist, it's hard to get out of that circuit. It's just about going into the world and seeing what I find. To me, this is maybe the most exciting way I can spend my time, as well as the best way to really learn about the world around me.

Travels, Part 1

Two weekends ago, FLACSO, my study abroad program, took us on a trip to Tigre. Tigre is the biggest town in a river delta area about an hour outside the city. We stayed on a resort on a small island about an hour away by boat from Tigre. FLACSO takes us on two trips - one educational and one recreational - and this one was very much the latter. We got off the train to one of the first warm, sunny days of spring and almost immediately got on our guided boat trip to the island. The guide talked to us about life on the delta islands, which consists of taking boats to school and to the supermarket, and of being vulnerable to the hot, humid summers and cold, wet winters. Soon, we arrived at the hotel and spent the day relaxing. There was a "nature trek" which consisted literally of a twenty minute stroll in the woods (a pleasant stroll in pretty woods, but still). Besides that, I spent the day sitting in lawn chairs in front of the river, talking to friends, reading, and eating the copious amounts of food FLACSO provided for us. At night, there was karaoke, made more lively by the beer and wine FLACSO also provided, and after that a campfire, complete with sing-a-long songs and a guitar (dad, you would have loved it).

More than anything, it was lovely to get out of the city for a night. Buenos Aires is great because it's the cultural and political center of Argentina; I will never run out of things to do. At the same time, it was wonderful to hear the quiet, to walk on grass, and to be surrounded by water instead of clogged streets. I can't say I saw a different side of Argentina, since all I really saw was the hotel. Nonetheless, it was a great place to spend the weekend, and I had a lot of fun.