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. 

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.

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.”

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.

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.

migraciones

Yesterday I told Silvia something that has been told to me many times: There are many places better to learn Spanish than Argentina. Bolivian Spanish, as I've heard from native English and Spanish speakers alike, is better for learning because it's much more like peninsular Spanish, isolated from regional influences by its unforgiving terrain. To this, Silvia bugged out. Según mi querida anfitriona, Bolivians are a dumber people, a less educated people, a more indigenous people... that just couldn't be. It could not be possible that BOLIVIANS, of all people, could speak a form of Spanish closer to the Real Academía de España. What was the silly American saying?

The Peruvian neighborhood here in BA, Abasto, is considered unsafe at night. All porteños, even of the standard middle class, don't do the dishes or make their beds because that's for the Paraguyan/Bolivian/Peruvian household help to do. Undocumented immigrants are routinely beaten by the generally untrustworthy Argentine police. 

...and despite all of this, the largest collections of people I have seen in this city have been in the MERCOSUR line of the immigration office, a huge line that all of the IFSA students passed by during our trámite at Migraciones, and outside the Paraguayan embassy. 

 When I was in Chile this weekend our new Chilean friends compared the Peruvian and Bolivian populations of Chile to the Mexicans in the United States. Yes, but worse.

cathartic, really.

I have to confess that one of my goals for this trip was to prioritize academics less, in favor of life experiences. In this spirit, I am pretty sure I am about to go to Chile for Semana Santa on shoe-string planning and a shoe-string budget. I say pretty sure because although we are planning to leave Wednesday morning (uh the day after tomorrow), nothing has yet been booked and we're stil not entirely certain who is coming.

A symptom of this EXCELLENT planning: I most definitely am almost out of clean laundry but neither the past track record of the lavadora nor the fact that I am in class 3-9pm bodes well for getting my laundry back tomorrow. Also, I still don't know if I will have to pay a fee when I hit the Chilean border, thus drastically increasing the price of this visit. (Though in my defense, no one seems to know this.) We were supposed to pay when we got here and didn't have to. However, there is a reason the Chilean economy is booming and the Argentine economy only sort of exists (coughefficiencycough). Finally, I most definitely have not done my homework that must be turned in on Wednesday before I leave -- and rather than do it, I've been updating this blog and rocking out to some CIV -- and I am happily skipping my absurdly difficult UBA class to go. 

QUE BUENO that Kara and I are acting this way! We're usually so on top of it! I know this is the opposite of the attitude I should have but I think this is healthy for once in a while. 

what you've been waiting for.... food

Last night my host mom and I debated over one of my favorite topics: FOOD. Food in Argentina is and is not what you think. Yes, it’s cheap. When David came to visit, we had a wonderful and huge parilla (grill) dinner for less than US$40. The most expensive places at which I have eaten generally charge AR$35 per entrée. When dividing by a favorable exchange rate of more than 3.5 pesos to the dollar, even an expensive meal is not breaking the bank – and most meals are not even close to that price range. Lunch today of two empanadas and a huge peach licuado (an amazing smoothie-like contraption of blended milk, ice, and peaches) cost me less than AR$20, or about US$5, mostly because my licuado cost more than both of my empanadas combined. 

So, I bet you are wondering, what is there to complain about? 

BA has incredible and plentiful mom-and-pop ice cream shops. I can dig classics like a humita (corn) empanada and a tostada miga (toasted white bread ham and cheese with the crusts cut off) for sure. Heavily influenced by BA’s montons of Italian immigrants, pretty much every corner café carries pasta, pizza, and milanesa, a breaded meat (or chicken or soy) cutlet. But, as those bland staples suggest, the food here is just not that flavorful. Contrary to the expectation drawn from the wonderful chimichurri I’ve had in restaurants in the States, I can’t seem to find cilantro in a grocery store to save my life. Tomato sauce rarely comes with oregano or even much basil; I gave up on local brands and bought a jar of imported Newman’s Own to stave off the boredom on my tongue. The concept of picante (hot/spicy) is a city myth. In fact, even when we went out for Mexican food here the picante condiments of pickled jalapeños and salsa picante were terribly bland and on a different occasion a requested hot Indian dish was mild at best. Every table comes with salt but I’ve only twice been given the option for pepper. For someone who enjoys the processes of cooking and eating, BA can be surprisingly disappointing. For those of you with milder gastos, I assure you that I’m no buffalo wings fan, that don’t like spicy food for spicy food’s sake. Plus there is just not that much variety: ham-and-cheese empanada, ham-and-cheese tostado mixto, ham-and-cheese miga, ham-and-cheese torta… you get the point. 

To be fair, regional/traditional Argentine foods like cazuelas (stews, I guess?) and traditional corn tamales (not really like the Mexcian kind) are not spicy but definitely flavorful. Street food like choripán (chorizo + pan (bread) sandwich), though potentially deadly, can be quite saborizado. I would be remiss not to clarify that there is incredible Italian food in the city, from wonderful pizza a la piedra (brick oven – literally pizza by the stone) to freshly made ricotta-and-spinach gnocchi. But by far and away my best spice-satisfaction has stemmed from abundant (and amazingly cheap) Peruvian food, which is both well-spiced and is served with a flavorful and spicy yellow salsa picante in which I frequently drown plates of French fries. That is helping to make up for the Salvadoran and Ethiopian I miss from DC, the Indian and Italian I miss from Boston, and the amazing dishes prepared by Georgetown Road’s own head chef Ed. (Yo, dad!) 

I still have much food exploration to do of course but my once-high hopes for encoutering well-spiced foods and sauces are dimming. While I live near a barrio with a large Korean population and am looking forward to sampling Korean bulgogi asado as soon as possible, I know that if it’s anything like much of the rest of what I’ve eaten here the hot sauce that defines the best bibimbap will be dumbed down for lame porteño taste buds and I will be lucky to find the soy/curry/sesame/scallion marinade I desire. Bummer. 

RIP Alfonsín

Raul Alfonsín died last week of lung cancer. Sorry I have been sluggish to comment on it – perhaps Argentine time is impacting me more than I would have expected.

Alfonsín, as you probably read, was the president of Argentina from 1983-1989. While his presidency was fairly mediocre – he ultimately fell from grace because of a major crisis of hyperinflation – Alfonsín’s transition from power is legendary. A committed democrat, the Radical-Civic Union leader (center-right) handed over the presidency to Peronist Carlos Menem in July of 1989 peacefully. In Argentina’s long history of election-junta alternations, the Alfonsín-Menem transition was the first truly democratic handover of power in 61 years.

Alfonsín was not a saint and his period of governance is marked by failures, from the aforementioned crisis of hyperinflation which he failed to ameliorate to the serious concessions he granted former junta leaders, including amnesty for war criminals, after facing threats and pressure from military powerbrokers. However, unlike many of his predecessors and followers, Alfonsín was honest. When the talk of the town centers upon favorable deals the Kirchners have awarded themselves and the ongoing corruption scandals of President Carlos Menem, when the society lacks a strong sense of social democracy and faith in their democratic institutions, this unique feature of Alfonsín is particularly meaningful.

Upon finding out that Alfonsín had died, my host mother bestowed the highest compliment she could pay: Alfonsín, she said, was the only living president of Argentina who could walk through the streets without having eggs thrown at them or being spat at. She withheld the four-letter-words with which she usually labels her elected officials. For the first time, I heard her cynicism replaced with respect.

Clearly, Silvia was not the only one. Tuesday at midnight my friend Beth and I walked to Alfonsín’s home at Santa Fé and Rodriguez Peña where there was a sizeable gathering. Acknowledging the solemnity, I did not take photos. I did however take photos of the huge crowd outside of Congreso, the Argentine capitol building, waiting to pay respects at Alfonsín open-casket wake the next day.

Lines wrapping around themselves in coils of four stretched four blocks from Rivadavía and Callao until Sarmiento, then as a solid line to Corrientes. Sporadically, these large groups would break into claps of “Al-fon-sín,” which seemed to help along the several hours wait of the after-work crowd. I saw plenty of flowers, many teary eyes, and lots of folks wrapping themselves in Argentine flags. Many were supporters of UCR, to be sure, but I am certain that many Judicialist Party (Peronist) members stood among their ranks, in an appropriate stand of democratic solidarity.

Although I experienced them, I did not write about the Day of Human Rights or the Mother of Plaza del Mayo, who march every Thursday to honor their disappeared, but I will acknowledge them now. In the midst of cosmopolitan, modern Buenos Aires, it’s sometimes easy to not see Argentina’s tragic and all-too-recent past. Alfonsín’s transition of power to Menem is considered the embodiment of the consolidation of Argentine democracy and his death is a poignant reminder that Argentine democracy, both politically and institutionally, still has much more to grow.

For more reading on the subject, I suggest the flattering NY Times obit and today’s similarly-themed article, “Argentina Mourns Raul Alfonsin, an Honest Leader.” In Spanish: Clarín’s obit.

no hay monedas

Rather than buy a reloadable plastic subway card or paper 10-ride passes, I buy my subway cards in two-ride or occasionally even one-ride units. This means that one out of every two rides requires standing on line and waiting to buy a subte pass. What is the reason for this madness? If I didn’t buy individually and in small quantities, I’d have to wait on 45-minute lines at the bank to get enough monedas (coins) for the privitized -- and therefore, non-uniform -- bus system, which doesn’t accept bills or any sort of prepaid cards. And even if I did wait at the bank, I’d probably get no more than $5 pesos anyway. 

Even though BA doesn’t usually feel all that different from other busy noisy highly developed cities, it’s amazing how inefficiencies lead to other inefficiencies: no monedas, long subte pass lines. 

For more on the moneda shortage, read Slate’s funny piece.

battery says it best: i spend half my time with friends (friends!) hoping it never ends (ends!)

Sometimes I feel just so very lucky to have hardcore in my life. In many ways, it’s been a gift that just keeps on giving. I’ve always seen it as a refuge for kids who felt different. Lately, perhaps as a consequence of feeling the alienation of being someplace new, I've been thinking about hardcore all of the time. After neglecting the habit, I’ve been reading hardcore blogs (oh doublecross is too good) and discovering new (to me) music, listening to a crop of stuff that I’ve always wanted to listen to but am just now really getting into for the first time really (see: BATTERY, bt1k, early shelter, common cause, remains to be seen, and CIV). And just as I’ve always felt about it – this asylum for kids who feel somehow a step apart – hardcore has been embracing me. 

Wednesday I had some extra time after a visa appointment so I stopped into Axel’s tattoo shop, which was later followed by a conversation about the Disengage EP and how hardcore might not have recovered from the awesomeness if YOT had made a full length of Disengage quality. Then Friday night I literally ran into Axel and his friend as I was walking to meet up with a friend and her parents. I was majorly running on Argentine time (aka late) but it was just so great to run into a friend like that. Stressing that is important; it’s not uncommon for me to run into American kids from my program around town because we all tend to hang out in more or less the same places, but it was a sublime thing to find myself cheek-kissing with a real porteño before hitting a series of subjects about which I have something substantive to say. 

Yesterday I was cared for (babysat?) by the kids down here. When I didn’t hear from the kid who was supposed to take me to the show, his bandmate answered my call for help. I met up with him and friends and they brought me to the show, even paying for my bus fare. At the show, I received a steady stream of hellos, introductions, and unbelievable warmth. Most of the kids I met last week were there and it was super exciting to see them and to see how excited they were to see me. As they say here, it was baaaaarbaro. After the show Fedex brought me back to house, no invitation truly stated, with his friends. I listened to them and their friends and tried so hard to understand (through the slang and speed) to their talk about dudes/bands and then we played a game of charades against the Rosario kids which I totally sucked at even though I didn’t really need Spanish. It was probably the most normal night I’ve had here except that it was all in castellano! 

On the one hand, it was super amazing. I had a fun night Friday night going out with some American friends and their two British friends but it was really nice not to be made to feel like the boring/awkward person because I don’t drink. It was incredible to have a night that was just so very perfectly normal, about hanging out for hanging out’s sake. I’m so absurdly grateful for how much they went out of their way for me. On the other hand, it was bittersweet. Nothing makes you miss your friends quite like being happy and hanging out in the same way with new friends, you know? 

On a final note, it occurs to me that I haven’t used this blog to talk much about Argentina but mostly to talk about me and occasionally to use that as a prism through which to talk about Argentina. In large part that’s been because I’ve been struggling to find my place and to encounter truly authentic experiences on which to reflect. I will post more very soon – last night gave me much ammo. 

¡oye esteban!

If you come to the home page of this blog, you'll discover the subtitle "hay una luz que nunca se apaga" which translates into Engish as "there is a light that will never go out" aka the famous (and gorgeous) Smiths song. Perhaps now I can justify the connection.

Tonight when I was halfheartedly working on some homework for my Spanish class I happened to also be partaking in my favorite form of procrastination -- watching Morrissey videos on youtube -- and I foudn this incredible gem: Morrissey on TELEMUNDO in Spanish. 

If after this Telemundo video and "First of the Gang to Die" you still have any doubts about how much Morrissey loves the Mexicans that love him more, drink in this lovely photo of Moz in a Chivas jersey at a CHIVAS USA game. That's right, folks, MLS Chivas not even Guadalajara Chivas. Wow.

In related news, I have plans to go to a hardcore show on Saturday and the cancha between River Plate and Racing this Sunday. Hopefully the suspense matches up the awesomeness of stoppage time of the match between River and San Martín de Tucuman last week. I still can't believe it took River almost all game to come back from San Martín's weak early goal. 

If Sunday works out, it brings my life in BsAs part circle. To explain: I passed the Racing team in practice sweats outside of their hotel two Sundays ago, ostensibly waiting to go to a stadium in GBA. (They play Sundays... there is no other explanation.) Full circle would be if I make it to a Lanús game, as I passed those guys wandering around AEP Jorge Newberry in practice sweats while I was en route to Bariloche. Both times I will admit to finding the experiences extremely strange. Just sayin'-- when's the last time you saw members of your favorite football or baseball teams loitering about? 

Finally, I have a confession to make: I have been courting fandom CA River Plate. I have until April 19th's Superclasico to decide. Updates most assuredly to come.

hardcorelyrics.com ctrl-c ctrl-v

I had probably my favorite conversational exchange last night. It went like this:

Shana: ¿No hablás ingles? ¿Pero escribís tus letras en ingles? (You don’t speak English? But you write your lyrics in Engish? NOTE: Check out that castellano riplatense in action!)

Frederico: No, seriously. Hardcorelyrics.com. Ctrl-C. Ctrl-V. That’s it.

Jajajajajajajajaja says me.

 

Hat trick to Marie on this one: When I talked to her this week in my generally down state, she encouraged me to put myself out there in order to make Argentine friends. After a fierce internal debate and an extremely lucky venue change from the province to 8 blocks from my apartment, I made the incredibly wise decision to go to my first Argentine hardcore show by myself. Because I went by myself, I didn’t have the luxury of withdrawing into myself. I was forced to be friendly as fuck. It paid off.

The strategy: Take pictures of random kids waiting for the show to start. Successful? Yeah! Because it’s pretty awkward to just snap photos of some dudes, I told them that I was American and taking some photos for my friends to document the scene here. Okay that’s probably equally awkward… but it was also true and it worked on two separate occasions to strike up conversations, one of which was extremely successful. Marcelo, Axel, Ryan, and Paula -- featured below in their Verse shirts har har – were super friendly and nice and patient about my Spanish and helpful.

From BAxHC

Marcelo gave me the lowdown on some of the who’s who – pointing out the 674 crew with neck tattoos and DB4D shirts and Red Sox hats (so much like I never left!), the kids in important bands I hadn’t heard of, and the kids I wanted to meet – while also listening with some degree of really adorable awe about Boston. We talked about bands we all liked and the hilarious National Geographic doc about Edge Day and straightedge. The best part was that none of those dudes really spoke English and for the first time in way too long I was forced to speak Spanish to execute a conversation. (!!!) They also introduced me to their awesome friends Carlos and Magalí, who I especially loved and with whom I spent most of the rest of the show.

From BAxHC

In addition, Marcelo pointed out Kiko, the amazing kid who runs Varsity Records whom I emailed my first week of being down here and with whom I’ve been doing some MSN chatting. OKAY Kiko is seriously one of the nicest people I have ever met in my whole life. He immediately was super warm to me, asking me lots of questions about how I’m doing, how I got to the show, etc etc. He introduced me to his friend and bandmate Frederico, of the infamous Ctrl-C Ctrl-V quote, who also went out of his way to be super friendly and who also knew way too much about American college sports and that Tufts was good at crew (uh?). Frederico introduced me to his gf (I think) Pauly who was super adorable and with whom I waited after the show ended because Kiko had asked me to stay. He promised to meet me in the city and literally take me to the show next Sunday, which is just amazing considering he doesn't even live in the city. And when I parted ways with them, he gave me a sincere “cuidate.” 

Check out their band Reconcile on myspace or in youtube video.

From BAxHC

As for the show itself: The opening band was terrible. They were followed by a hard, New York influenced band and their singer, of course, was the dude with neck tattoos. Reconcile was legitimately really good and it was great to see a hometown band that hometown kids were into. No Turning Back (Holland) was just hilarious. Their singer was a Dutch version of Scott Vogel in Greg Mental's oddly proportioned body. I took some video which I am stoked to show Bobby in the fall. Only about half of the kids knew enough English to laugh at his jokes and participate in his requests for call and response. I laughed throughout the whole set, pretty much. Plus they played covers of Negative Approach and Alone in a Crowd, which allowed me to participate a bit thank goodness.

Although I feel a little bit embarrassed admitting it to folks, especially when they don’t really understand hardcore at all, last night demonstrated the success of my logic: I picked BsAs in large part because there is a hardcore scene. With all of those kids I met last night, I spoke Spanish, exchanged contact information, and just generally had a meaningful experience over which to bond. For the first time, although I obviously felt like an outsider to some degree, I didn’t feel like such a tourist or such an American. I felt like a hardcore kid. And with the greatness of the smallness of the hardcore scene (¿hardcore es un panuelo?) I had more than just interests in common but also some friends as well. It was pretty incredible to explain where I live in the States by proximity to the Anthrax Club, to discuss kids I know from Boston, and to be able to share in a way I hadn’t yet been able.

All in all, an extremely awesome experience on which to build! Already super stoked for the 28^th in Gerli (which I can now finally pronounce).