one outta three

TRIUMPH! After spending waaay too much time working on it and an extremely generous and close read from an IFSA tutor (!!), I have finally finished my UBA paper. Clocking in a 18 pages single spaced pages of text with 60-something footnotes and six pages of bibliography it's easily one of the longest papers I've ever written -- and it's in Spanish. For a bit of trivia: it's the only serious paper I have ever written without using a library book. (JSTOR, ftw.) Pasted below is a sample of the articles that I used, but only the ones that a) came with the course packet or b) I planned to use so much that I deemed worthy to print.

For the past week or so they have been my only friends. (Am I joking? Not sure.) Now I am pretty worried about the oral presentation on the paper. Reading/writing and talking in front of the whole class on topics you're thinking about in English -- different ballgames.

Now that I've finished this paper and passed my film class, what remains?

- UCA Lit paper on The Politicization of Pablo Neruda in Spain (due Tuesday, barely started)

- IFSA music paper (almost done!, topic too geeky to announce)

- IFSA presentation Thursday (not especially worried)

- UBA presentation Friday (ugh at least I have the week to prepare)

It's been a while. I apologize. Lots and lots of updates! But first: I was inspired to write because I was re-reading some older posts and feeling fairly humiliated and thinking adding some new content might take some of the shame away. If I said something especially stupid, I am sorry. I tend to do that.

Life for the past few weeks has been really excellent. I hear it's always this way -- that it's only at the very end when you start to feel like your normal self and understand what it is that you don't want to lose when you leave.

Here is a quick run down in LINKED photos.

Mom and Dad came to visit. I showed them around the city and we took a side trip to beautiful Colonia and Montevideo, Uruguay. They made my friends an awesome brunch. Mostly, though, it was great not really doing anything with them. I miss them.

The week after that Danielle came to visit. It was really amazing having her here, much more than I think we both had anticipated, and an incredible capstone to our getting close again phase.

First, it meant that we were able to do things that we were insanely stoked on that no one else would be able to appreciate. Case in point: Krishna Veggie Lunch dinner -- and our waiter who knew Shelter.

Second, she is much cooler and more fun than I am. I'm still not sure when the tables switched and I became the shy one of the two of us... In any event, everyone loved having her as much as I did. It was, as we've been saying, MUCHO BUENO.

Third, everyone loving her so much meant that I got to hang out with everyone much more than usual. MUCHO MUCHO BUENO. Trips (paseando and to La Plata) ensued, especially those in search of vegan eats. She was sent-off by an unfortunate early arrival of my unhappy host mother -- a snippet "SHEEEEILLLAAAA! se van a tener que retirar! y espero que no me falte nada!!" -- after some uncharacteristically bad cooking on my part. At least the company was wonderful.

After Danielle left, hangouts continued at Danie's super fun bday party. I laughed a lot, even more than usual. Here is why.

This weekend Natalie, Jasmine, and I saw Juana Molina at a touristy city event. On Satuday it was Shipwreck and Have Heart (videos from the show linked) in BA. It was pretty epic. Plus Pat opened their set with "this song goes out to the only person in this room who has been with us from the beginning" before breaking into the Intro and Lionheart. While that was pretty awesome, just getting to talk with him is really what made my week. ...that and hearing JD's Boston accent. It made me miss Meffid! (Disclaimer: I apologize that this blog has recently turned into a forum for my fandom. Consider it wrapped up as of now.)

In other news:

1. A week ago from yesterday I booked my flight home. I leave BA July 3 and will be home with plenty of time for fireworks!

2. I was sick last week, got better, and now I think I might be coming down with something again. That's a big problem considering that I am WAY BEHIND on schoolwork and can't seem to finish -- or, more to the point, ever take a genuine interest in -- this monografia for UBA and thus be able to start working on other things. Uh oh.

3. I walked past Hooters tonight on the way home from UCA and they were playing Boys Don't Cry. What?

On a final note, I was marking the end of my stay by the date of the Have Heart show as it seemed like a logical point in the distance from long ago. That I am leaving soon when I feel like I am just starting to feel totally comfortable being myself has just begun to sink in and it's a big bummer.

no words

We all met at Axel's tattoo parlor and went 22 strong to Gerli for the show last night on the same city bus and train to the province. I thought that was absurd but I didn't know what was coming... Afterwards about half of the kids from the show piled in to the same post-show Line 37 bus back to the city. There are no words.  Imagine a literally completely full city bus -- no two people were more than three inches apart from one another -- filled with stage-dive high hardcore kids screaming and laughing. 

The forty-five minute ride consisted of soccer chants, Diego crowd surfing a good third of the way through the bus, and repeated screams for Oso to come to the back. Oso probably earned his nickname, which translates to bear, due to his large frame. The pleas continued until he finally yelled back "I can't, I'm too wide" to the hysterical laughter of literally everyone there. 

As Dag Nasty asked, "What can I say?" 

A related aside: Pauly Ramirez deserves a gold medal in the patience Olympics for her relentless kindness. 

it's not the spectacles the pagaentry the thousands things you've got to see

For only the second day since I arrived the weather in BA is really crummy. Skies are grey, it’s been lightly drizzling all day and the high humidity is making it feel even colder than its approximately 55 degrees. The somewhat Boston-like weather got me thinking about how it’s going to be summer when I come home which reminded me of the fact that I have neglected to mention what I will be up to this summer. Whoops.

I will be interning in the External Affairs department of the Center for American Progress hopefully working on legislative outreach (aka lobbying big scary word) but probably working on email contact management.

I am super stoked to be in DC again! I put together a rundown of my favorite things after last summer but there’s still plenty I am excited about for this upcoming summer.

On the agenda:
Now that I am 21+, I am stoked to start exploring H St. NE. Can’t wait to hang out at the H St Country Club, eat jumbalaya and while taking in Farina family member bands at the Red and the Black, and you know be old enough for shows at the Rock n Roll Hotel. I couldn’t really do anything cool over there last year because I was a young’n but thanks to a birthday that is otherwise meaningless to me I can start seeing some new places.

Food I haven’t yet eaten: Ray’s Hell Burger, Dairy Godmother, all of the schwarma places in Adam’s Morgan I seem to have missed at which I hopefully can eat Old Bay fries, and DC’s apparent explosion of cupcake-mania. And old favorites like BCB, Old Ebbitt Express, Taqueria Nacionale, San Miguel’s Pupuseria, Amsterdam, and 2 Amys where I eat cheap and well. Mmm already excited for restaurant week in August!

EATING BAGELS. I just miss bagels. I asked Fedex this weekend and he told me they don’t exist here. I don’t think I have had a good New York bagel in DC but apparently Montreal style bagels are coming which is sufficient, as I anxiously await a something bagel-like to enjoy.

I can't wait for: softball by the monument, summertime in DC jamming to the Bad Brains, walking past a Democratic contrilled White House and Congress, visiting and re-visiting Jefferson's draft of the Declaration of Independence with Adams's notes in the margins, hardcore shows at the Corpse Fortress, making fun of the line at Smith point, the summer 09 Fort Reno line up and jazz in the Sculpture Garden, outdoor movies, and just walking up and down and up and down and up and down Embassy Row (and this time getting to make fun of Joe Biden instead of Dick Cheney).

amped!

things I am learning about myself, politically speaking

On Saturday I found myself in the middle of a conversation I’d more of less had at exactly the same time a week earlier. The proximity of the two conversations, the extremity of the claims, and the ease with which they were voiced to me leads me to believe on an admittedly flimsy basis that these views are probably fairly commonplace among young people here.

First, young Argentines don’t think Barack Obama is black. Eminem, I was told in one instance, is black. Barack Obama and his million dollar Harvard education is not. I haven’t gotten the impression that middle aged Argentines feel the same, though I will own up to my my absurdly small sample that is mostly comprised of taxi drivers (how Tom Friedman of me) that distinguish the two impressions. This point is not entirely lacking intellectual merit if one considers sociological constructions of whiteness but seems to fly in the face of what I believe is an important accomplishment of the American people.

Second, I heard a certain degree of doubt that 9/11 was a terrorist attack exogenous of all motives except those of extremists, the average American belief, though I am still confused about who then is the guilty party. It’s too strange that the twin towers, so potent a symbol of American capitalism, would just fall like that – too coincidental, too structurally improbable – and it’s too coincidental that the 9/11 attacks would be used to justify an otherwise unjustifiable invasion of the sovereign state of Iraq. The second point I can hang with; the American people were repeatedly misled by false claims of ties between Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden. But the first reminds me of Holocaust deniers. Call me naïve but I would never dream that my government could ever play a hand in the slaughter of nearly 3,000 of its own innocent civilians. I wonder if the implausibility is diminished if you’ve grown up in a part of the world that still feels the impact of the other September 11 and a country which disappeared over 30,000 of its own citizens.

While I think I have a more-than-acknowledged conservative streak at home, it’s pretty clear that I fall to the left of the American political spectrum. Here, however, I feel like I go to bed with Milton Friedman and William Kristol books under my pillow. When Fede cheekily asked if I identify as neoliberal I don’t think he expected the answer to be yes. I do think that after a period of protected initial growth, it is in the interest of most states to be open to free trade. That does not mean entirely lacking export diversity and focusing on soy, as is the case here. It also does not mean that I think the results of Menem’s extreme privatization campaign have been wonderful for Argentina, as the foreign-owned outright monopolies have hindered competitiveness for what used to be public goods, driving up costs for consumers while reducing both domestic jobs and domestic tax revenue. But it does mean that I think foreign direct investment, international competition, and appropriately curtailed state ownership is ideal. As polemical and probably offensive it is to say so here, I do think the American idea of the liberal democracy is the ideal form of government.

With that I will go back to my pillow-worn copy of Atlas Shrugged and Ronald Reagan's memoirs.

100-something days

When I started this blog I said I would write about three things: Buenos Aires, politics, and music. I’ve managed to cover two of those categories extensively while outright dropping the third. It’s not that politics at home haven’t been kicking ass – they have – I just haven’t really had it in me to write about them. But since I am comfy watching Trial’s epic set from Burning Fight and getting my chomp on some Oatmeal Squares, but not particularly interested in doing actual homework, I will finally address some recent thoughts I’ve had.

One party Congress? I was pretty stoked for Specter’s switch if only as some sort of shameful vengeance for my frustration with him during the Bush SCOTUS nominee confirmation process. But contrary to my well-known partisanship, it bums me out that Republicans are such an irrelevant party. For the moment I am happy to have a basically filibuster-proof majority in the Senate (oh MN!) because it’s about time the government got some serious shit done – thank you Republican Congresses for putting off healthcare and immigration reform, exacerbating the problem of global warming by doing nothing about it, etc. – but I would generally be happier if there was a more two-sided debate occurring on the Hill. In the most Mill of thought processes, I genuinely believe that public policy is of a higher quality when both sides shape the process and (Burke) curb each others excesses. Although I strongly disagreed with the arbitrary decisions of the “Gang” of moderates, and by no means mean to hold them as the ideal, it would be good to have a well-supported intellectual challenge to the borrow-and-spend policies of the Obama administration, not Club for Growth tea parties and Michael Steele temper tantrums.

About time! One of my favorite refrains about Barack Obama is that he was the first Millennial generation candidate and the first Millennial generation president. I know he is technically too old to be a member of my generation but I strongly believe that he resonated with the youth so much this fall because his political philosophy mirrors that of my generation. Examples of this abound but I will cherry pick three particular policies which confirm my expectation.

First, I am thrilled about the Ted Kennedy Serve America Act. The law triples the size of AmeriCorps and increases available education subsidies for said volunteers, a worthy example of presidential leadership – and a stark contrast to Bush’s post 9/11 request that we “go shopping…” At the bill signing ceremony, President Obama prominently acknowledged my generation’s commitment to national service:

It’s the same spirit of service I’ve seen across this country. I’ve met countless people of all ages and walks of life who want nothing more than to do their part. I’ve seen a rising generation of young people work and volunteer and turn out in record numbers. They’re a generation that came of age amidst the horrors of 9/11 and Katrina, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, an economic crisis without precedent. And yet, despite all this -- or more likely because of it -- they’ve become a generation of activists possessed with that most American of ideas, that people who love their country can change it.

On some level I know that choosing this as my first example is kind of pathetic, a bipartisan pat-yourself-on-the-back bill that is about as controversial as loving puppies, but the truth is that I see a bill like this as a true act of leadership, a demand for Americans to serve each other at a time when we’re feeling alienated, scared, and expecting our government to serve us.

Second, thank you White House for fighting the good fight for students. It’s about time that student loan reform was a political issue. The plan ends the system of middle men, terminating private student lending and makes all loans directly through the government. It also adds a bunch more money for Pell Grants and Perkins Loans. I don’t think the plan is perfect – I continue to be concerned about the insufficiency of increases to financial aid in assisting middle income families – but man is it a step up from the predatory system of student loans currently in practice. I wish everyone, or namely just my favorite Senator Bill Nelson and his Nelnet buddies in Omaha, had the sense to see how good of an idea this is.

Third, the changes in the administration’s policy towards Cuba are a harbinger of good to come. They’re not extensive but they are at the very least an extremely meaningful act of political symbolism and, from all indications, step one in a series of new steps US-Cuba and inter-hemisphere relations. OAS leaders seemed also to think so. This definitely fits my generation's post Cold War attitude.

Hardest job in America. I definitely don’t think the administration has been doing an absolutely complaint-free perfect job. Governing, especially now, is tough stuff. To take one example, I’ve been frustrated not to see a decisive, coherent approach to Guantanamo. (Note what I am NOT saying here.) The Bush administration really cornered those who have come after, saddling the Obama administration with a furious collection of radicalized prisoners under dubious self-made constructions of laws of war. I do believe Obama’s people are stuck between a rock and a hard place – bringing the prisoners into the States means the application of due process for trials that lack enough evidence to be convincing and the impossible task of finding a place to house them in the mean time – however the administration has resolved not to leave them at Gitmo or to use secret prisons, so they have to do something with these prisoners that isn’t sending them back to Yemen. (Or, if there isn't a case to be made, the law is the law and they have to send them back to Yemen as tough as it is to swallow.) My complaint about the lack of a decisive and coherent approach reflects my frustration that administration has continued to apply this dubious definition of international laws of war rather than a more domestic definition of criminal law, thus opening possibilities such as the continuation of the prison at Gitmo, a continuation of the dubiously legal military tribunals, etc. However, it’s tough stuff. They didn’t pull these folks in so they’re left working with, and probably not enough around, the system the Bush administration gave them… in conclusion, I’m pretty glad I’m not sitting behind the desk in the Oval Office these days.

ANYWAYS, that’s just a couple of thoughts. I have plenty more, if you want to know just ask.

this is hardcore

Trial at Burning Fight this weekend. Hat tip to Kris Mission at WMF for the photo. EPIC video of the whole set is here.

PS I know that this is supposed to be a post about Trial but I have to add something. At about 28/30 min into this video I noticed in the bottom front of my screen a kid that looked pretty familar, then I heard a voice I know: Patrick fucking Flynn. It's kind of an embarassing thing for me to be such a big fan of this dude, mostly because at this point I'd say that we're at the very least acquaintances, but it's what it is. It's not often you see the singer of what is essentially the biggest band in hardcore being as stoked and into it as the next kid. We all like to pretend that's how it goes, but it's not. Pat, on the other hand, still comes out to small shows like when he was going hard for Rival Mob at Oxfam and is apparently going all out for Trial when he could have a cushy spot wherever the hell he wanted in that place. Not to nerd out or anything but the amount of respect I have for that kid is literally limitless and I couldn't be happier for him the HH dudes for all they've accomplished. They're the hardest working band in hardcore (they're in the fucking Philippines next week and are touring officially from now until forever) and deserve everything they've been able to achieve plus much much more.

EDIT: They posted a flyer for the schedule of this out with a bang world tour: 98 shows in 104 days over 39 countries.


Oof. I get tired just reading it.


EDIT: I think I just caught another PF stage dive about 21 minutes into the incredible Bane set during my favorite of all post OG hardcore jamz: COUNT ME OUT. I don't know how to explain this but I am absolutely bugging out watching this Bane set. Seriously, like BUGGING OUT. Everytime I see them, everytime I listen to them it's the same fucking rush of emotions I felt when I heard Count Me Out for the first time and it absolutely changed my life. I listened to Holding this Moment pretty much every single day on the bus ride to school sophomore year until I switched to Give Blood, which might be only slightly edged out by The Argument by Fugazi as my most-listened album of all time. No matter how many times I hear the lyric "I'll be here tomorrow, I'll be here next year. Just like this X on the back of my hand [I'm] not going nowhere...." it will cause a wrenching, visceral reaction in me. I literally have goosebumps watching Can We Start Again right now.

I just opted not to go out tonight so I can continue to think about how I "will not let clean shaven boys that all look the same toss hand grenades into this my faith" while I keep watching Burning Fight sets.

EDIT again: Approx 28:30 into this set Aaron's speech is just dead on. No one speaks like that dude does. Chills, literally.

cuenta reg 01: MG RGN SUP

List #01: preferred Argentine footballer

1. IMO, only one answer for this: MARCELO “THE DOLL” GALLARDO. I know I should probably say Messi (but he plays for Barca) or Riquelme (but he’s a diva) or even Palermo (a beast -- but he plays for Boca) but I have to say Gallardo. A) I have declared my loyalties. B) The former DC United player is ancient and a quarter the size of Palermo but still has been the fighting heart and soul of the River team this season, including the comeback goal in the last Superclasico. Too bad River lost to Nacional de Paraguay and were elimated from the Copa Libetadores. Oh well, it gave Gallardo an excuse to talk some sweet smack in the papers and hopefully means they’re better rested as the clausura finishes soccer season.

cuenta reg 02: I love livin in the city

List #02: favorite places, loosely speaking

1. Abasto: My first two months I was kind of cranky that I lived in Almagro. Most of the other Americans are in Barrio Norte and Recoleta, really nice upper-middle class neighborhoods. But now I love no area of the city more than I love the Balavanera neighborhood near the Abasto mall, also called Abasto. Abasto is home to my favorite cheap Peruvian restaurant and many more I have not yet tried, the Konex cultural center where there is theatrical live musc like the incredible percussion orchestea Bomba del Tiempo, Club Atletico Fernandez Fierro and their rock/tango orchestra, and the most incredible thing I have seen in my time in BA – an adorable porteno block party of sorts with maybe 30 young beautiful hipster couples folk dancing in the street, with an asado and lights/flags hanging that we stumbled upon walking home from Marmani (Peruvian food) one day. It was like a scene from a movie. This neighborhood is known for being a bit dangerous, as people try to pick pocket mall-goers and many poor immigrants from Peru, Bolivia and Senegal live in the neighborhood, but I fucking love it. Makes me glad to live in Almagro and be so close!
2. Santa Fe y Pueyrredon: This is technically Barrio Norte but I point to this spot specifically for a couple of reasons. First, at this particular intersection is the Galeria Americana where Axel has his tattoo parlor and the Varsity boys are opening their hardcore record store. It’s also the approximate location of my friend Alana’s apartment and very close to where Natalie lives. To get to those places I usually take the subway to Pueyrredon and then walk straight up it for 10 or so blocks to Santa Fe, enabling myself to walk through the Jewish area of town. Tons of Orthodox Jews and their Kosher supermarkets, one in which I stumbled upon a beautiful three year old also named Shana. What more makes me feel like home than good friends, Jews and hardcore kids? It’s the spot in which I am most likely to run into someone I know and like, Argentines and Americans alike (see: when I met these American girls from GW who were super nice, the time I ran into Axel before meeting Anna and her parents, how I ran into Emma while waiting for Axel, and how I just ran into Kiko Fede and Fran this weekend). Also very close to my favorite bookstore (El Ataneo on Santa Fé) and ice cream (Volta).

cuenta reg 03: about this americana

List #03: embarrassing ways that I stave off homesickness

1. eating peanut butter by the spoonful: I infrequently do this in the States but for some reason I have taken solace in doing so here. Each spoonful is an act of defiance, as I am pretty sure that the only two groups of people in the world who can hang with American style peanut butter are Americans and Israelis and it definitely seems like the Argentines frequently have negative feelings about all three of the aforementioned (Americans, Israelis, and peanut butter). Hey -- this beats going to McDonalds or Starbucks! Related honorable mention: Buying and destroying Oatmeal Squares for my late-night homework snack. I blame Andrew Helms for this.
   
2. downloading new old hardcore music: As you’d have to be a dolt not to notice, I’ve been really into hardcore lately. As a function of this, I’ve been jamming all sorts of bands I never listened to when I was in my many years of listening to basically the same 3-4 hardcore bands all of the time. This has been awesome but I am at a loss for a proper analogy to explain why. Maybe it’s because, without deviating from the same formula I love, I’ve been able to listen to things that a) seem new to me and b) are total classics / nearly perfect that I wrote-off long ago. Related honorable mention: I’ve been maxing the potential of my Google Reader and aggregating hardcore blogs. Now I get to read awesome back stories about said bands AND find inspiration for new ones!
3. The Wire: This is number three on the list because I finished the season that I had but in my first two months here I watched two whole seasons of The Wire. This was especially great when I had first arrived and felt super exhausted all of the time from being so new to Spanish all of the time and didn’t quite have a circle of people read for hangouts. I won’t say how quickly I watched each of the two seasons but let’s just say it was embarrassingly quickly. Related honorable mention: Happily, none! I’ve barely watched any TV or movies, The Wire phase excepted, since I’ve been down here as Silvia lacks a DVD player and I can’t deal with the stupidity of Argentine television.

cuenta reg 04: "snack attack bitchez," -- Jordan Fraade

List #04: snack attack, Argentine-style!

1. alfajores: Imagine two soft cookies with dulce de leche between them, covered in chocolate. Super rica, super amazing. Favorite brand, hands down, is El Chachafaz because the cookies are cloud soft and the dulce de leche is wonderful. Havana’s (Starbucks, more or less) house brand is a close second. Mmmm.
2. pomelo (grapefruit) soda: It isn’t sweet at all but rather tart and super addictive. I can’t tell you how much I wish we had Paso de los Toros (a brand) in America. I would drink it all of the time. The closest American comparison I can think of is Polar Orange Dry, except that stuff tastes like artificial sweetener whereas Paso de Toros tastes like awesomeness sans sweetener.
3. medialunas: Medialunas are Argentine croissants. There are two types: manteca y grasa. The former are made from butter, are very soft and usually contain a light but sweet outer coating. From grasa, or lard, are harder but flaky and not nearly as sweet. Usually accompany a café con leche, or espresso with milk. My favorite medialunas are served in the UCA cafeteria and sustain me during the short break that arrives 4.5 hours into my 6 straight hours of class on Tuesdays.
4. licuado: They’re like smoothies but not. Blended ice, water/milk/juice and fresh fruit, without whey BS or anything. My favorite flavor is peach with milk. Can easily replace a meal.

cuenta reg 05: FML

List #05: things about BA that I will not miss

1. Movistar: This is straight hate. You pre-pay for cell service instead of using a contract. Unfortunately said phone service is expensive so it’s never very long until your saldo está por aghostarse (you’ve exhausted your account), rendering you unable to send texts or make calls in crucial moments. Also they’re constantly sending texts to their customers, which leads to major let downs because who the fuck wants a text from their cell phone company? So much for thinking it was actually my friends, caring. I have friends?
2. switching into English: For all but the last three months of my life I have lived in America where I speak English every day. I did not come all the way to Buenos Aires to speak English. Yes, I know I am a gringa. Yes, I know I have an accent when in speak your language. But I seriously don’t need you to tell me that my empanadas cost “four pesos;” I promise I speak more Spanish than that. When you are trying to hit on my blonde friends and I in the street, you get no closer when you start yelling out, “Hello! Where are you from? What is your name?” I am thrilled that you a) passed elementary school English or b) speak English much better than I ever hope to speak Spanish without ever stepping foot outside of your country – and by thrilled I mean annoyed, so please allow me to fuck up so I can learn from my mistakes. (PS Movistar still annoys me more than this!)
3. honking at ambulances: I happen to live very close to a medical clinic and a major hospital, as well the major traffic artery and main road Avenida Corrientes. Every day at about 9 or 9:30 I lose the battle for my snooze button sleep because there is an ambulance and every driver on Avenida Corrientes decides to honk at every other driver to indicate the presence of an ambulance. Uh, hey guys, guess what? It has a siren for that! Ugh.
4. cubanas: The Spanish word for the phenomenon of dread tails / mullets. If I were Castro I’d be way more pissed that Argentines named their bad haircuts after me than I would be about American capitalism, sayin’.
5. that my professors smoke in class: Both of my UBA professors have lit cigarettes during class. Being the idiot American, I tend to sit in the front row in order to help myself hear/understand. Without any ventilation, this usually means I get to inhale some of that lovely cigarette smoke when I’m trying to learn. On some level I probably enjoy this because it’s so absurdly different from Tufts, but mostly it just makes me wish I wore a Swine Flu mask to class.

cuenta reg 06: overheard in argentina

I started this at 2 AM last night when my essay due today was about 85% done going on 85% of the past two days but instead of just finishing the damn thing I keep adding to its insides or just procrastinating outright. To continue my goal of accomplishing as little as possible (note the sardonic tone), I present to you a series of posts of lists about my life and Argentina which I hope you enjoy!

List #06: expressions I hear most (in order)

1. che, boludo: Che is roughly dude. Boludo is roughly asshole. But the thing is, the expressional really isn’t at all vulgar -- even your grandmother probably says it. Due to its Italian influence, Argentine Spanish is extremely flowy. Adding in a che or boludo tends to progress a conversation while also expressing affectionate mocking. I don’t really feel like I can use it, being gringa and all, but I dig it none the less.
2. ¿qué sé yo?: Its literal translation is “What do I know?” but it’s much more than that. You use it also to terminate a topic of conversation, a sort of bored flick of the wrist. Also used to dull a potentially polemical opinion.
3. mirá vos: The command form of “you look,” but more like “look at you.” Sometimes used to express shock, awe, mild interest… Mirá vos, I didn’t know Movistar had recarga triple today.
4. dale: I think of it as the adverbial form of “okay.” Example: You want me to go to the store? Dale. I’ll go in ten.
5. viste: Frequently used to display interest, sort of like we use “uh huh” to continue a conversation. Also used to underline/highlight a point, kind of like “got it?”
6. no pasa nada: As I’ve mentioned, efficiency here is subpar. Attitudes are generally pretty lax. Late to class? No pasa nada. See also, ni importa: Although it’s not grammatically correct, everyone says it anyway. An emphatic way of saying “no biggie” or “don’t sweat it.”

q descansen en paz

This fall the 24-year-old singer of a MA hardcore band, Dominic Mallory, passed away. His band Last Lights had just played a set at BU. Dom was helping the band pack up the van when he started to feel dizzy. He developed tunnel vision. He couldn’t feel his legs. He collapsed against a wall and his friends called an ambulance. Apparently he impacted a nerve during a fairly routine stage stunt in which he wrapped the mic cord around his neck and ultimately caused the aneurysm from which he died just a few hours later.

Although we have a fair number of people in common, I’d never met Dom. I liked his band’s demo and 7” a lot but never got a chance to see them. However, although I hardly ever cry, while reading his obit in the Worcester Telegram-Gazette in my kitchen at Fairmount, I broke down and began weeping. (I’m not sure I could ever describe another experience as one in which I’ve wept.) I felt so intimately connected to him, to his friends, to his family… It was so tragic that a 24 year old kid could just up and die like that, and perhaps even more affecting because he could have been any one of many kids that I know. Perhaps this isn’t unfair. In some ways I guess we were connected. Bobby and I had helped put on a show at Oxfam that was converted at the last minute to a fundraiser for Dom’s family. I spent that day, maybe two days after his death, with many of his closest friends, singing along to the cover of his favorite song. And that’s how it was. Beyond simple acts of solidarity like changing band’s profile pictures on myspace or sending notes of support, people really came together to help Dom’s family to pay his hospital bills and funeral costs. I heard that when all was said and told, donations and benefit shows and merchandise – the support of the hardcore scene – raised about fifteen thousand dollars. It was certainly Dom’s friends and family’s tragedy but it was, in its way, our tragedy – all of us.

This weekend a participant in the BA hardcore scene killed himself. From what I’ve been told, he had a girlfriend of a higher social class. Her family pressured her to break up with him. He tried to hold it together and distract himself all weekend but Sunday night he saw that she had removed all of the photos of them from myspace and listed herself as single. Some time after sending text messages to friends with the words “true till death” (the name of a famous straight edge song), he was hit by an oncoming train.

It’s an eerie thing to see photos of Matute, as he was called, with my new Argentine friends. I don’t really know if I should do anything, say anything to them. I found out about what happened in an indirect way, putting together pieces of the story deposited in different outlets. But I can’t help but experience some of the same feelings that I felt when Dom died. I am not a true member of the BAHC. I’m not sure I had ever seen him before and we certainly had not met; yet I feel connected to this kid and the wounds he inflicted not only to himself but to those that loved him. And while I wish I could communicate all of this simply – enough to explain that I am not a tourist to your emotions in the most meaningful of ways – there’s nothing I could say anyway to the grief my friends are feeling.

RIP Dom and Matute

Amuuurrrrica (or: you ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night )

I have pretty much exclusively been listening to old hardcore bands lately with one extreme exception: THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM. Normally I think I would find something like this corny and tooly and not be into it but inexplicably I am hooked. All of the hype is true. They really do sound like a cross between 1970's-era Bruce Springsteen and the Bouncing Souls, somewhere between the Jersey turnpike and the endless highway Americana of Lucero's That Much Farther West. Truly fantastic -- and just SO awesomely Jersey. (Dad, give it a shot.)

As I said, usually "youth anthems" about love or life/death/transcience make me roll my eyes a bit but this is perhaps the epitome of what happens when former hardcore kids grow up and make grown up rock music all while maintaing some semblance of Kevin Second's Young Till I Die and not being total tools. The whole album, The '59 Sound, is just awesome for all audiences. I assure you that if you are reading this you ought to listen because you will enjoy.

IFFFFF you really can't hang with rock music, I suggest partaking in this different but equally wonderful slice of Americana -- This American Life #328: What I Learned from Television. Although it made me feel like a latte liberal, I couldn't keep myself from laughing pretty much the whole way through.

As for slices of America in my life here:
Friday night my friends and I went to Disco, hit up the imported foods aisle, and made ourselves some super tasty burritos in Silvia's kitchen. Saturday we continued our culinary adventure with sheets upon sheets of M&M cookies, oatmeal raisin, peanut butter M&M, and PB oatmeal cookies. Mmmmm. Then yesterday I went again to Jumbo, the huge American-style supermarket (somewhere between Stop&Shop and Target) that I like to call "Amuuuurica," with Alana. What does that say about the States that I relate most to American when I am eating absurd amounts of terrible-for-you food or when I am in places where they sell it?

¿qué es Santiago? -- Beth's not too bright homestay mother

I know I am a bit behind schedule about this, apologize.

Disclaimer: Santiago was where I wanted to go in the first place but Tufts only accepts transferred credits from its program there so I opted for Buenos Aires. On paper (and I think in reality), Santiago is a better fit for me. It’s not all about partying. It has a killer straight edge hardcore scene. People don’t speak as much English. I am much more familiar with its political history. Etc. So just sayin' I was pretty predisposed to be into it.

Chile was incredible. Kara and I arrived Wednesday morning. We did have to pay an entrance fee (bummer) but the flight was worth it both in terms of time (25 hour bus ride vs. 2ish on the plane) and in terms of the incredible view of the Andes from the plane. In that moment I understood so much of Gabriela Mistral!

After sorting out how to get to the city from the airport and getting really ripped off changing AR pesos to CL pesos, we arrived at our beautiful hostel in the boho neighborhood of Bellavista. We walked around all morning, saw a huge produce market and drank some sweeeet agua fresca type juice and shopped a bit, then slept most of the afternoon (panicked preparations meant that I arrived at the airport on seven hours of slept in the proceeding two days) and got some decent Mexican food as an excuse to see more of the city.

On Thursday, after a sweet maxikiosko bfast, we headed out to Valparaiso. Again, there was some confusion upon arrival at the bus station but finally we figured out how to take a bus to the hostel. However we arrived only to discover that the hostel we were planning to stay in was full. Whoops. We quickly found a new one – a hostel owned by a French immigrant to Chile hahaha – and I spent much the rest of the day worrying about how our friends Jasmine and Beth would meet up with us after the changed plans. (I was already nervous because they were flying into Stgo and had to meet us in Valpo. I didn’t know if they knew how to do that, where do go in Valpo, etc. And our cell phones didn’t work in Chile. We couldn’t contact them about the changed hostel using another method until we had arrived at the new hostel and after their flight from BA had taken off… I was nervous!) To wrap up this story and leave my Jewish mother anxiety at the door, everything worked out fine with the girls who arrived in our room at about 9:30 that evening. Phew.

Valpo is so cool! It’s the hub of Chile’s most active port and a beach destination in the summer but neither of those things are why it’s so cool. Valpo is awesome because it’s a small city of brightly painted houses built into the mountains.

To get to said houses in the mountains, one rides in a giant box up the side of the mountain called an ascensor or an elevator. They were built in the beginning of the 20th century which renders them somewhere between frightening and totally amazing. For the ascensores, Valpo is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Skipping some boring details, Kara and I went for lunch and ended up sitting next to a table with two Chilean dudes who looked about our age. Kara – being both pretty and outgoing – skillfully initiated conversation. We learned that they were engineering students our age and that they were absurdly nice. We waited out the end of the Colo-Colo game wit them (Colo-Colo won obviously) and they took us around the city, up and down the best ascensores, giving us an excellent tour. Best of all, even though I could tell they both spoke English, they continued to speak to us in Spanish the whole day. (This does not happen in BA where I have to fight to use Spanish some days.) Eduardo and Oscar were SO GREAT!

Our group was rounded out in full on Friday. The four of us went to Pablo Neruda’s beautiful house.

and to the National Congress which took up residence in Valpo after the dictatorship relegated it to Valpo to reduce its influence.

We had some lunch of seafood and chorrillana (aka French fry onion meat heart attack dish of death) at the Central Market, which was awesome.

On the bus back that night we met some Israeli travelers – yes, this is officially the South American stereotypical experience – who we later had dinner with. Fun night!

Saturday was a boom and bust day. Jasmine and I tried to go to the Salvador Allende Museum of Solidarity (socialism and 70’s pop art? yes please!) but we discovered that it had moved and didn’t have enough time to meet Beth and Kara for lunch if we went to its new location. It wasn’t a total bust – Jasmine is awesome and we had some great discussions through the streets of beautiful Barrio Brazil. After more chorrillana Jasmine and I headed over to Palacio de la Moneda, Chile’s executive office building and where Allende killed himself during Pinochet’s siege. You can’t take a tour but at 4:30 they let tourists enter the plaza within the building’s walls. All of government center Santiago was incredibly beautiful in a Washington kind of way, with lots of beautiful architecture. I was pretty much in love.

After our foray through downtown Stgo, Jamine came with me to a hardcore show back in Barrio Brazil. How lucky was I, really, that there would be a show the one day I decide to look in a safe/easy to find place?? Okay, first, I saw three Chilean bands and they were all good. My favorite, easily, was the opener REMISSION. I had listened to each of these three bands before but they were just as good / even better when I saw them. The Arg bands I’ve seen, on the other hand, haven’t generally provoked similar compliments… More than Remission being a great band, their singer Philippe was an amazingly nice dude and he ended up chatting with us the entire time Jasmine and I were at the show. (Philippe spoke perfect Americanized English, they only time I used it in abundance with an actual Chilean.) He asked what I was doing the next day (which, oh yeah, was Easter Sunday!) and met up with me to talk about hardcore and show me around Santiago. We were SUCH NERDS, in the best way. Our hangout commenced with the question (from him) “top five favorites, go!” He was an encyclopedia of hardcore knowledge (which I don’t say lightly) and isn't every day I get to have intense conversations about Turning Point and Dag Nasty, I was so grateful! Plus he showed me so many beautiful areas of Santiago, especially Cerro Santa Lucia which is the giant hill where the Conquistadores beat the natives and around which the rest of the city has been constructed since its birth.

Plus it's just crazy how small the world is. Philippe's band is on a label called Amendment Records that is doing a split between a Chilean band called Against All Fears (super 90’s) and Maintain who exist in my mind occupying a space somewhere between a real hardcore band and my being my friend Amanda Ferres’s housemates in Somerville…. Plus Philippe chats irregularly with my friend Keith from Springfield. Weird, right! I'll be really stoked if Remission makes it to the States to tour next year as is tentatively planned.

To wrap up some loose ends worthy of note: Saturday night we ate tradition Chilean food. Our waiter was hilariously condescending, oh man, but the pastel de choclo was fortunately worth it. Before Philippe hangout time Sunday was of the highest quality. After a trip up the ascensor (the furnicular) at San Cristobol, we visited Santiago’s insanely high statue of the Virgin Mary and saw an amazing vista of sprawling Stgo.

Afterwards we ate incredible sandwiches at TOP SANDWICH (mmmmm), all drowned Kara in now-permissible formerly Lent-forbidden sweets and saw Beth and Jasmine off. Fast forward a few hours: Kara too had a Chilean friend hangout and when I was wandering through Barrio Bellavista in search of a phone card with which say hi to the padres, I ran into the only two remaining Tufts-in-Chile students. Again, smallest world.

On Monday I wanted to show Kara Cerro Santa Lucia, then we enjoyed more Top Sandwich, and then (unfortunately) had to say goodbye to Chile, its vastly more understandable and patient Spanish speakers, the awesome tomato bruschetta they serve at every table that puts tasteless porteno food to shame, and to Chile’s awesome people. Big bummer. It was a great trip! Not the most traditional of Easters but worth it.

Also I bought postcards but after struggling to find a post office, then after it was closed twice, I still haven’t sent them. I suck.

ON THAT NOTE, if you want a postcard HOLLA. I am slowly but surely working on it.

All in all, after all of that panicking about finances and meeting up with the girls and about the lack of proper planning, trip was totally incredible. If you enjoyed this post, donating to the Shana Hurley Poverty Fund will ensure that similar travel diaries follow.

the informal economy

Since I have been rather dilligently working on actual schoolwork today and have earned / would like a somewhat productive break, I am going to touch upon a couple of political economy questions that have been of interest to me lately. Disclaimer: I will be the first to acknowledge that I am no economics ace. (Perhaps the first to acknowledge that would instead be my very kind Principles of Economics professor, bless him...) However, fulfilling my destiny as a northern hemisphere and generally left of center college student, I have a profound interest in development economics and political economy. We can catalog this one under "Stuff White People Like."

The political economy of Argentina is fascinating stuff, even excluding the 2001 crisis. At the start of the 20th century, Argentina was the 7th wealthiest country in the world. Wealthy people lived in splendor in the still-beautiful neighborhoods of Barrio Norte and Recoleta, reaping the benefits of Buenos Aires's wealth-inducing port and Argentina's fairly extensive railroad system. But the history of Argentine glory ends pretty early, followed by decades of stop-and-go self-perpetuating political and economic crises. (It's no coincidence that the first coup occurred in 1930, the same year as Argentina's first economic collapse.) While that former luster remains the lusty twinkle in every porteño's eye (sorry, is this creative writing 101?), the reality on the ground is that Argentina has fallen far behind Brazil, Mexico, and Chile. A quarter (!!) of the country's population still lives under the poverty line and unemployment hovers at about 10%. And in the most unofficial of ways, I personally genuinely struggle to understand how the Argentine economy functions. There are many stores and many restaurants, few of which I ever see with customers. From what I understand (again, I am no Paul Krugman here), if you lack customers your business will not make enough money to over its overhead costs and it will fold. Somehow these empty businesses keep chugging...

Aside from the storefronts, it seems to me that economy has an other active side. Both in EPIIC and my development economics class sophomore year I spent a substantial amount of time studying informal economies. At home I generally wrapped my brain around this concept by thinking of, say, urban drug trade in America's poorest communities. But in my time here I've been able to develop a fuller sense of that which comprises the informal economy -- and never moreso than when I come home from class on Tuesday nights.

I don't leave UCA (Universidad Catolica) until usually 9:15 or so on Tuesday nights. Depending on my mood -- which, after 6 hours straight of class, can be quite testy -- I either opt to take the subte (longer walk, shorter ride) or the bus (longer ride, shorter walk). I walk to the subte along Paseo Colon, one of the major traffic arteries that runs parallel to the water and along the government buildings. At this time of day, the office buildings have emptied. Thus, at 9:15/9:30, all of the garbage is thrown out of its buckets or dumpsters to be picked through by cartoneros (garbage pickers) in search of sellable recycable goods. If I take the bus I see the cartoneros sorting through the garbage between Uruguay and Lavalle, near Plaza Tribunales. Most of the sorters are young men but many are children. In my neighborhood there is a ciruja who piles his recyclables onto a donkey-drawn cart. Beyond that, there are many other signs of the informal economy. Pretty much every trip someone will enter your subway car and try to sell you socks, pens, notebooks, anything. People wash windshields or direct your parallel parking for tips. Some folks sell homemade food in high-traffic areas, from the immigration office to touristy Calle Florida. And as mentioned, petty crime is a problem.

Attempts have been made to convert some of these informal activities into formal employment, like the famous example of Argentina's organized and collectivized garbage pickers. Generally speaking, however, these examples showcase the odd duality that beautiful Plaza San Martin is merely a few blocks from the tent city at the Retiro Train Station. In the end, it's a reminder that the Argentine economy, though considered upper-middle income, is still in the developing end of the spectrum.

speaking of hardcore......

I know I should be writing more about things that aren't hardcore and, for that, I apologize. However, esto vale la pena. I wrote this piece for Melisma, the Tufts magazine of music/alt culture, about straightedge (in a word: my decision to abstain from drinking, drugs, and permiscuous sex as tied to my participation in the DIY community of punk/hardcore). Since Melisma came out last month, I don't feel bad publishing it here too. If you're on campus and you didn't pick up a copy, please do!

When I was fifteen and a sophomore in high school, I wrote a zine about straightedge, the decision “live on the edge” – by being involved in the punk rock subculture, for example – while abstaining from drinking, doing drugs, or having promiscuous sex. For the zine, I interviewed the singer of one of the most hardline active bands. Hardline, or the militant strain of straightedge, had dominated in the 1990’s but fell out of fashion; however, certain kids and bands perpetuated that anachronistic spirit. Clean Steve, of Massachusetts’ Embrace Today, was one of those kids.

Steve was a fascinating interviewee. We ended up talking for upwards of 3 hours. (In fact, I ran out of tape on which to record.) I asked wide-eyed questions and he answered without skipping a beat. Steve, a long eight years my senior and associated with the gang-like Courage Crew, debated me intellectually and answered my questions sincerely. At age 15, it was one of the most meaningful demonstrations of adult respect I had experienced.

Steve was emblematic of why sophomore year of high school was possibly the most transformative year of my life. I remember it as a montage of highway: Exit 10 for the Depot in Darien, 46 for the Wallingford K of C, and 83 for New London’s El’N’Gee. There were close calls when sing-alongs almost met road dividers, when a turn in the road was barely edged out ahead of a crucial steering wheel finger point, and when several wrong turns on scenic back streets never really reached destinations at all. There were trips to Long Island, New York City, Poughkeepsie, and Providence filled with throats screamed raw. And best of all, there were packed house shows in Stamford and all over in which kids bumped up against each other, the shelves, the walls after sharing potluck rice and beans with not-quite-strangers in the kitchen.

Ascribing words to these memories doesn’t do justice to the sense of community. Occasionally those feelings come back to me and I long for those times, that sense of ownership in something bigger than I. Hardcore immensely changed my perception of where I grew up – for the first time in Connecticut I met kids who identified as middle class instead of my upper middle class hometown counterparts whose lifestyles were often out my reach. It provided an immediate sense of kinship, as personified by a one-in-the-morning sing-along on the subway with a total and complete stranger, a South Korean who had been in the States for only two days but who was a friend of a friend and, therefore, a friend of mine. It works both ways, too. This summer, when my friend Fred’s band toured Guatemala, a random kid asked in broken English if he knew someone from Connecticut named Shana. The kid was Andres, whose email correspondence had allowed me to practice Spanish and learn about the community and culture in Guatemala, all in the context of the impossibly small world that is hardcore.

At this point, my participation in the community has ebbed. Instead of attending Food Not Bombs benefit shows, I cloak my righteous indignation in talk about fiduciary responsibility and campaign for Democratic candidates. I no longer wear band shirts and scribbled-on Chuck Taylors but collared shirts and cardigan sweaters. I attend Tufts University, an institution antithetical to my inclusionary values in its stringent admissions process and prohibitive costs. However, although I’ve changed in other ways and have considered letting go, I have held fast to my straightedge identity. The last strong link within my sometimes tenuous connection to the hardcore community, straightedge sometimes feels like all I have left.

When people meaningfully ask me why I don’t drink, I usually give them intellectualized answers. I talk about the link between sexual violence and blood alcohol levels. I mention boycotting massive corporations whose politics I reject. Occasionally, I’ll even get personal and talk about my Irish Catholic family’s long history with self-destructive alcoholism. Only to a select audience will I mention the community that I respect and, in other ways, have abandoned.

So, Tufts, I will out myself: I am straightedge. I don’t X my fists, I don’t wear X watches, and I wouldn’t be caught dead with a straightedge tattoo. But I am as strongly attached to my edge now as I was when my South Korean friend Ki Seok and I sang “Thinking Straight” on the Broadway local after seeing straightedge legends Insted reunite at CBGB’s in July of 2004. It means as much to me as it did when I sang along to Bane’s “I’ll be here tomorrow and I'll be here next year" two weeks before my sixteenth birthday, truly faithful that "just like this X on the back of my hand, I’m not going anywhere." I believe in it now like I did when Clean Steve and I occupied the back room of a Cromwell church basement, sitting on Fisher Price furniture and feeling like two adults nonetheless. I may not continue to identify as straightedge in two years – or even two months – but it will still be one of the most important factors shaping who I have become today.

Perhaps my refusal to let go of straightedge (such a curious remnant of my relationship with hardcore!) reflects a certain immaturity. It is possible, of course, to have merely a glass of wine or two with dinner. Clearly an after-dinner drink does not immediately result in alcoholism. The vast majority of alcohol consumption does not result in sexual violence and one can easily avoid supplementing the Anheuser-Bush family’s right-wing war chest by supporting other fine microbrewers. As for me, there are other options than straightedge. I could connect with the community in other ways. What if I went to more shows? Wrote another zine? Finally picked up my dusty bass guitar and started playing in a band? Even by hanging out at the right places at the right time I could seamlessly reconnect to the community that I have distanced from. But nothing makes me feel more sincerely connected than truly sharing Have Heart’s “Something More than Ink” as the voices of the kids – our voices – overpower the amplifiers: “In the core of heart, this is something more than ink.”

According to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism only 12% of college students don’t drink. Very few of my friends also abstain from drugs and alcohol. Indeed, even most of my straightedge friends have taken different paths. Despite the alone-in-a-crowd feeling that occasionally hits me at parties on campus, I know that my straightedge identity will continue until I can truly divorce my feelings for straightedge and for hardcore as a whole. I will sustain this somewhat anachronistic token until I can find another way to satisfy my longing for the community to which I identify. In the meantime, I’ll carry seminal hardcore band Youth of Today’s torch when I say that “my flame will keep on burning strong” and “I will continue to sing this song.” What’s keeping me going, as singer Ray Cappo wrote 21 years ago, is that “I know I’m not singing this song alone.”

desde stgo, con pasión

I am having a really satisfying email exchange with the kid who runs Amendment Records in Santiago de Chile. I thought I might post it here for those of you who might be interested in a true window into my relationship with hardcore down here, the scene, and the ties between the scene here and in the eeuu. I suggest running it through Google Translate. 

The italicized text is from Pablo. The regular text is my response. This is email #5 in our exchange. 

Yo ire probablemente al ultimo show de Verse en RI en mayo, asi que quizas ahi nos veamos. Estare un tiempo en los Estados Unidos, pero mayormente en la costa oeste (Portland, OR).

El show será bueno – el espacio (AS220) es muuuy chico. Vi algo de mis shows favoritos allá – la comienza de las dos giras más grandes del verano 07 con have heart, verse, down to nothing, ceremony, sinking ships, allegiance, soul control, y I rise. Cuando Have Heart tocó, porque era tarde, llegó la policía para terminar el show. La gente cantó Watch Me Rise sin los altavoces y la banda…. ¡Re bueno/divertido! Aunque quiero, no voy. Cuando estarás en los EEUU, todavía estaré acá. No regresaré a los EEUU de Buenos Aires hasta julio y viviré y trabajaré en Washington en vez de Boston hasta septiembre. Y si tú estás en la costa oeste (¡e inferior!), pienso que es muy improbable que nos veamos.

Me parece muy interesante, y a la vez, comprensible el tema de que hayan investigado sobre el hardcore en Argentina y Chile. Aca el hardcore lleva casi 20 años y jamas, creo, se ha sabido algo de eso alla en Estados Unidos sobre todo. La escena es muy elitista y la gente solo escucha lo que esta de moda, la prueba de ello es que en Sudamerica, Europa hay muchas bandas increibles, pero nadie las pesca porque no son cool o porque no son de Boston, hahaha. Aca cuesta 5 veces mas hacer las cosas, las bandas nunca obtienen dinero y todo funciona con el dinero que obtenemos de nuestros trabajos. De todas formas, agradezco que te des cuenta y que digamos, apoyes el hardcore de aca, porque aca no hay duda que esta hecho de corazon, y lo mejor, es que tiene un mensaje importante, muchas veces ligado a lo politico o social. cosas que nos afectan a todos.

Es raro porque allá mi vida diaria es bastante separada de hardcore. Voy a una universidad donde no hay más de dos personas (incluyo yo) que les interesa hardcore como a mi me gusta. Pero porque estoy en un lugar distinta con una idioma que no es mía, me siento más los sentimientos que influenciaron mi interés inicial en hardcore. Tengo un interés nuevo y estoy averiguando grupos viejos que son nuevos para mí etc. La simpatía que he recibido de la comunidad de hardcore me muestra todo lo bueno de esa escena y me da mucha entusiasma.

Estoy de acuerdo contigo. Para mi parece que hardcore de acá nunca llegó a los EEUU. Yo no sabía que lo existía acá por 20 años, pensé que es más nuevo… Allá la escena es muy separada -- en Boston no hay mucho intercambio entre, por ejemplo, Kris Mission y los grupos más ignorant que tocan en Brockton (cerca de Boston) como Death Before Dishonor o Colin of Arabia, los más punk como Positive Reinforcement, y los más vieja escuela como cuando Stephen de The First Step vivió cerca de Boston. Es una pobreza de riqueza, quizás. Lo que quiero decir es que es bastante difícil ser una banda nueva de Boston y ganar la atención de la comunidad, aparte de ser de un país diferente. New Lows y Rival Mob, por ejemplo, son muy populares pero también son amigos de Lockin Out y tiene vínculos con ellos que son los influénciales. No es suficiente ser de Boston – se necesita ser cool de los que hacen los decisiones también. Que sé yo. 

Cuando vino Have Heart, digamos, fueron las unicas personas, sobre todo Pat, que se intereso en la escena de aca. Fue muy bueno experimentar eso.

Al final, el hecho de que uds trabajan mucho más para tener la escena es la razón porque grupos como Have Heart disfrutan mucho estar por gira acá. Especialmente para los grupos de los EEUU que no tienen el reconocimiento que merecen allá (no como los graaaandísimas como Have Heart), es mejor ir a Europa (o Sudamerica) para que experimente gente de bienvenido. Fue el mismo Pat de Have Heart que me aseguró que yo pueda hacer amigos de la comunidad amable de Santiago y Buenos Aires porque eso pasó a él. Ellos disfrutaron mucho la experiencia de ir a Sudamerica. Pero sí, espero que nosotros podamos dar apoyo a uds y asistamos en popularizarles en los EEUU. (Por lo menos yo quería darte una gira de Boston – con toda la historia de la revolución norteamericana, soy una nerd/empollona – alguna vez.)  

Con respecto a los vinilos, pues, los amo hahaha. Esa es la unica razon porque hago los discos en vinilo y no en cd por ejemplo. Tambien a las bandas que he sacado, les gusta el formato vinilo, asi que por ahora no he tenido problemas con eso. El sello es una de las pocas cosas con la que yo puedo hacer lo que me gusta y lo que yo quiera, asi que lo administro a mi modo. Si a la banda le gusta, los saco, sino, se puede negociar algo, pero asi funciona basicamente esto. Ahora recien saque un LP de Against All My Fears que es una banda que toco el sabado pasado, y ahora se viene el debut LP de Remission, y un split 7" de Against All My Fears con Maintain de Boston, quizas a estos los conozcas. Yo hablo mucho con Enrique, el bateriasta y son Chris, el guitarra.

hahahaa dicho como un hardcore kid verdadero. Me gustaba Against All My Fears (re de la decáda 90). Será difícil esperar para el LP de Remission – a ellos me encantan. Y sobre AAMF/Maintain, ¡q chistoso! Mi querida amiga (quien la extraño mucho) Amanda vive con Sean, el cantante de Maintain. En la universidad, mis amigos Bobby y Geoff y yo arreglamos dos shows con ellos. Además de eso, no conozco a Enrique o Chris jajaja.

Bueno Shana, ojala nos veamos en los Estados Unidos para cuando vaya, y te reitero las gracias por apoyar lo nuestro. :D

Mil gracias por los mails. Me gustaba mucho el intercambio. Con hardcore, es como tengo un pedazo de mi vida de allá pero también en una forma sudamericana y es el mejor. Y te agradezco por aguantar la escena y tener Amendment y (lo más egoísta) darme Remains to be Seen, que son reeeeeee buenos.

un abrazo!

*Note for those who speak Spanish: "re" is bsas slang for "very" and demonstrates the ways in which bad porteña castellano is invading my vocabulary.

la UBA

I promised Uncle Jeff that I would write more about school so here I go, fulfilling that promise. I am taking one class at the big public university here in Buenos Aires. By big, I mean big. La UBA has 180,000 students. Although it is without a doubt my most difficult class, I also think it is my favorite. Simply, la UBA is the experience that I came for.

Some useful background: (1) UBA is free for all Argentines. The way this works out in practice is that a schmillion people enroll and only a few actually graduate. It takes significant strength of will to overcome all of the bureaucracy/obstacles, especially the ones you're fighting while also holding down a full-time job. (2) From an administrative perspective, cost per student is very low. This is because overhead costs are kept to a bare minimum. Professors barely earn a pittance and almost none are full-time. Buildings are dumpy and inadequate. As a result, striking occurs often (it's happening right now) and school resembles a cross between a prison and a middle school gym, except that it's covered in leftist newspapers and grafitti.

Because of the way the university system is governed, students have a substantial amount of power. The state doles X amount of funding to the university but, from what I understand, does not impose strict restrictions on how that money is spent. In that determination, parties representing the faculty, the students, and I think one other stakeholding group (but not an administration per sé) meet in Congresses to represent their groups and interests. Student government, therefore, is legit and a big deal. Student parties, it follows, are legit and a big deal -- and given that this is Argentina, these student parties are super lefty and very active.



Frequently someone will enter in the middle of class and, upon receiving a nod from the professor, will plunge into a rehearsed 30-60 second spiel about their student party, student congress, student strike, etc etc. I usually have to bite back laughter as I imagine the student who tried that during, say, one of Professor Taliaferro's classes. Oof, it's fighting tears. In those moments, above all, I realize how very far from home I am.


For me, all of this ridiculousness works out swimmingly. Not to sound all Edward Said orientalizing on you or anything but I really dig that UBA is a different world from Tufts, perhaps even in another universe. IFSA handles the internal UBA maze and I get to enjoy the Che Guevara t-shirts and Popular Student Movement posters.