It’s been months. Things have happened. Trying to blog them
all is impossible now. My best bet is to ramble off highlights, lowlights,
observations and wisdoms from the past 5 months in the jungle.
Let’s see…
I’ve been writing for a tech startup website since my last
post. This has contributed to both my aversion to leisurely writing and my
newfound fascination for the entrepreneurial underworld. It reminds me of the rave
scene in Matrix Reloaded except without the beautiful, sweaty people and more glasses with iOS-based banter. I’m kind of into it. So much so that two baby projects of my
own have sprung up from the moist, startup earth of Argentina. I’m watering
them now. We’ll see how they grow.
The sit-down nature of my job has also caused me severe
corporal pain, which has led me to be convinced of the CrossFit advantage
(thank you, Hunter...champ). I’ve just come back from my first class. It’s like
really rough, really sweaty…yeah, that. In other words, I LOVED IT and I can’t
wait for the next steam-blowing session. And, the abs that will inevitably
follow, of course.
I just had five good friends visit for the whole month of
July. Pretty decent for a $1500 trip to the end of the earth. I’m still
recovering from an overdose of party time and love and a complete lack of sleep.
It was awesome.
We went to Colonia, Uruguay, and stayed at La
Casa de Los Limoneros. Magic is the only word that comes close to what we
experienced. I will be back. Perhaps my friends will too.
The expat community I’m entangled with is an interesting
lot: it’s a constant flow of newbies and despies, bienvenidos and buena suertes.
Hook-ups are casual and partying is serious. It’s what I’ve come to expect in
the transient lifestyle I’ve signed up for. It’s good, it’s bad, it’s ugly, but
it’s always fucking interesting…
...kind of like my love life. Wait, love? No, no. More like
British schoolboy affairs with a sprinkling of international flings. The expat
sex life is a fascinating one. But, I’ll stop there. I’m no Carrie Bradshaw,
and I don’t want to give too much away.
Magdalena’s Party
is my jam. It’s where I eat brunch, drink beer and watch Game of Thrones. It’s
a place where everybody knows my name and where Sarah Deutch cures my moral
hangovers. It’s the down feather pillow in my arroz con mango BA (night)life.
And, I have my own personalized margarita glass. So there’s that.
Nightlife? More like early morning life. Sorry, New
York—Buenos Aires is truly the city that never sleeps. I wake up from my fiesta
siestas around the time most bars in the world are closing, and head out into
the big, bad, booze-filled noches of BA, usually till the sun comes up (see last post for more on this activity). It’s a
fomo’s paradise and worst nightmare (that’s right, people who have a Fear Of Missing Out…ahem, this guy). I’ve decided not to fight it anymore; my
equilibrium has long been adjusted and I can sleep when I’m dead. I hope that’s
not any time soon. There's some great parties next week.
I had my first attempted mugging a few weeks ago. It was 4pm
and I was walking in the underpass on a main road (Cabildo, for my BA peeps). Immediately, I was attacked by
three little niño thugs for my iPod. In
this particular fight or flight situation I figured it was no contest. I
screamed in two of their faces; they ran. The hero of the gang continued to paw
at my pocket for my Apple toy, and I took his arms, and with a swift kick to
his prepubescent cojones, I made sure he wouldn’t be able to have little hooligans
of his own someday. I got away with my iPod, but they somehow managed to break
it. A clear winner was not crowned that day. (Though, I did walk away unscathed, for that I am grateful).
The collectivo from 9am-10am and 5pm-7pm is a constant wave
of pushing and permissos, grazing and groaning (from me, and not the good kind).
For someone who has recently experienced the perils of anxiety, this is pretty
much the worst- case scenario (that and dealing with the correo, or bank, or
co-ghetto, and so on). But, instead of letting the anxiety attack, I have used
my daily tasks as therapy. That’s right, the more crowded the bus, the longer
the lines or the inevitable “no hays” for most of my requests, the more focused
I am at being tranquila. It’s challenging, I’ve cried on occasion, but I’m
learning to react in a better way. And, keep my sanity…
…This is always my mantra when living abroad. I’m here to be
challenged, to be uncomfortable and to add to my life facets. And, that's mostly true. But sometimes easy, convenient and comfortable are not the worst things in the world. As my friend
Laura puts it, “Sometimes you just want to sit in your air conditioned living
room and watch Bravo TV all day.” Agreed, L, agreed.
This has taken a bit of a bitter tone and…well…fair
enough. Perhaps it’s the change in the air I’ve felt here recently. A slight
sense of desperation from a city that is trying to keep up with a bureaucracy they
abhor. Subway strikes, piling garbage on the streets, and the blue market hunt for the USD. Again, subjects I know too little about to discuss but definitely feel on the
daily.
Oh yes, and my friends keep leaving (ojito, Sterling!)
But, that’s the nature
of the (being a foreigner far away from your norm) beast---you learn, you grow and you do the best you can.
So let’s round this off on a positive tip—BA has invited me to some of the best parties, and I’ve met some solid people that make this
experience worth every minute. My job as a writer and teacher are enriching and
interesting (and inspiring!) and I wake up looking forward to going to work. Really.
I also just went to BA Fashion week, VIP style, with my two
favorite people, sipped on bubbles and laughed (at everyone).
Dulce de leche also makes me happy.
And my house. It's a magical place.
There’s much to look forward to in the coming months. Winter
is fading, sun is shining, and plans are being hatched for another visiting lot of best friends soon—a MUST for expat survival.
It's taken a while, but life at the moment is very, very good; my Buenos Aires chapter is shaping up nicely.
Hasta luego, gente.
