Ya no estoy en México

The biggest difference between then (last semester) and now (now) is that I´m not in México lindo y querido anymore; I´m in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and this is a post to sum up the last months.

Pre-llegada, or Johanna in Hats: A Series (as the Facebook photo album will be called when I finally upload the pictures)

I spent a couple of awesome days in a just-post-snowpocalypsis Chicago with Andrea Fullerton and Allie Wigley; then three weeks at Kenyon; then a week in Miami with Johanna Ralsten (in hats) and Justin Cox and Megan Beddow.  This domestic traveling was lovely.

Llegada, or Buenos Aires is a big city

I left from Miami on March 5, waited in a very long but slow-moving line at check-in, almost didn´t make the flight, but luckily they found a seat for me – in first class.  I arrived in Buenos Aires the morning of March 6, got to my homestay after losing myself in the early morning crates and tents of la Feria de San Telmo, slept, and then went out to explore.  Moni, my host, and I live about a block and half away from la Casa Rosada and the Plaza de Mayo, two important sites in Argentine history, so we are in the heart of a city that still beats for its disappeared.  Voy conociendo Buenos Aires, making friends, getting lost, adjusting to everything because it´s all new: the accent (in the Rio de la Plata region, instead of a y sound for the ll, más bien es un sh: sho me shamo Chris); the food (empanadas are delicious, re ricas); the city life; the nightlife (dawn is early here, o sea, party until dawn and then some); the end-of-summer warmth; the academic style; the toilets; the mannerisms; you know…

We had a week of orientation with the Middlebury program.  About half the participants are students from Middlebury, and the rest of us come from different schools.  I´m directly enrolled at la Universidad de Buenos Aires, slightly bigger than Kenyon, but still a great educational experience.  I´m taking two classes, sociología de la religión with Dri, who, me dicen, is well-known among intellectual circles of Buenos Aires, and seminario de la cultura popular y la cultura masiva.  One difference between here and there that I love, que me encanta, es eso de the political awareness and involvement of the estudiantes: because there is no all-stu e-mail system here to get the word out about an event, students (generally in twos) come from classroom to classroom, requesting politely to interrupt, and advertise with flyers and announcements upcoming political events: take back the Malvinas, come hear Hugo Chavez speak, el partido obrero would like to talk to you…  If we were to think of it in terms of development, American students are certainly under-. (See The Middle, or Americans in town.)

And I feel pretty well-prepared for my classes here, after Kenyon and Mexico.  Only one professor talks too fast, and when I don´t understand something, it´s not because of vocabulario or gramática sino que it´s something conceptual.  The difference between here and there about which I´m still ambivalent is eso de la theory, because students at la UBA have a more than solid background built on theorists of the last two centuries, especially Marx, and that makes taking an upper- or mid-level class hard when you are lacking in Marx, or Engels, or Gramsci, or Bajtin, o quien sea.  But so far, so good, and I´ve even spoken in class: once to comment on the grotesque body in the works of Rabelais as containing both life and death, as interpreted by Bajtin, and the second time only five words (which are five words more than zero words): “¿Eso de la locura, no?”  Así que, considering that I was in a room full of eloquent and beautiful Argentines, I feel accomplished at having put forward my dos centavos.

The Middle, or Americans in town

I´m slowly learning to navigate independently through the avenidas, pasajes, and callejones of Buenos Aires, and whenever I manage to arrive at what I thought would be my destination without losing myself, I´m happy.  And, if I get lost, people are generally friendly enough to direct me, ask me where I´m from, ask me what I´m studying and chao nos vemos.  I was very happy to successfully arrive at la Facultad de Derecho de la UBA a few weeks ago when, as guests of the U.S. Embassy, we were invited to attend a conference with Sandra Day O´Connor.  She began by acknowledging that Argentina has been more successful than the U.S. in terms of incorporating women into the lawforce*, commented on how difficult it was for her to find work when she had recently graduated from Stanford, and argued for the importance of educating the youth of both the United States and Argentina not only in math and science but also in history and civics, to better understand the politics and functioning of the Argentine/U.S. government.  (Humanities and fine arts always seem to be left out…)

I have been to the cine with my host a couple of times: the INCAA theater proudly shows only Argentine films, for 8 pesos, roughly 2 dollars, and I plan on going many times this semester.

Last week, some friends from Ciencias Sociales and I marched with other students, members of political parties, gente de todo tipo, in a march that commemorated the dictatorship; a day to remember what´s happened, to criticize and learn from.  We marched from the Plaza de Congreso down to Plaza de Mayo, the cantidad de gente was impressive, and todo bien.

Unrelated, by also occurring in the Middle, I have been to Starbucks twice in the search of a good study space (still in progress, see Últimamente, or when not everything goes well for information on where not to study), and I still feel guilty about supporting economic imperialism.

*We´re inventing words all the time in Spanish when we struggle with el vocab castellano, so why not throw in some English-language neologisms as well?

Últimamente, or when not everything goes well

I have recently been dealing with a few crises, which aren´t that big of a deal, not in the grand scheme and not in comparison with the trials of million, and I am a child of privilege and luxury and ya sabes, but I´ll talk about them anyway: my computer charge broke, and Apple hardly exists in Buenos Aires (as Cami Odio so eloquently stated in an e-mail: Argentina is really behind in the globalization times); books for school are equally hard to find, and both books and charger have led me an wanderings all across the city, but no luck; and I experienced my first big-city robber encounter last Monday.  Ima lay it down, brevemente, but it´s probably not such a big deal, and yep:

I was sitting in this park right next to la Facultad de Medicina, en plena luz, at 3 in the afternoon; in the middle of my reading on the negation of the universal abstract, and the subsequent negation of that negation to arrive at the universal concrete and maturity, these two guys come up and sit down: one on side, the other por el otro lado.  They start talking to me: they mention cameras, and I´m confused.  And I probably look confused, because the one guy with the really bloodshot eyes says to me: Tranquilo.  And then he says: Tengo fierro, I have a knife.  So first they wanted my cellphone.  I gave them my Argentine cellular, since I´m not too attached to it, and it was easier to just give them something.  Then the guy said: Quiero que nos des la mochila, my backpack, and that´s when the mid-afternoon tides turned.  My thought process, which I explained out loud to my ladrones pals, was: my homework is in my bag, that´s hours and hours of intellectual labor, I am not willing to part with that at all.  So, at the risk of my life, at the risk of the knife that probably wasn´t there, I said no.  And then they asked for my wallet.  And then I started to scream, y grité, Alguien me ayuda, porfavor, not to get someone to help, but to get someone in the park to look at us, and there were probably 9 or 10 people that looked up from what they were doing – the coordinator of the program, however, has suggested using “fire” instead of “help” because people in Argentina do not tend to respond to “help” but will respond when their personal safety is threatened.  So I screamed, got some attention, then I stood up, told the ladrones poco exitosos que ya me voy, chao, and I walked away, with my life, my wallet, my backpack, and the physical manifestation of hours and hours of intellectual labor. 

A couple sitting on a bench talked with me for a little bit, calmed me down, asked me where I was from and what I was studying, then recommended I go drink some coffee or tea to calm myself down.  I was trembling, temblando por a good while, and then I went to class.  Obviously, I don´t blame Latin America, it´s something universal to big cities (¿maybe?), and there are probably a lot of economic and class factors that play into the situation that I know nothing about.  No big deal, right?

So, in addition to the Mac charger and the school books, I´ve also been trying to buy a new cellphone, which was hard the first day because they were out of the cheapest model, and hard today because I didn´t have my passport and Movistar would not even think of selling me a pay-as-you-go phone without the proper documentation.

Looking ahead, or looking west

Tomorrow a friend from the program and I will begin the long omnibus trek to Santiago, Chile, to meet up with friends from Kenyon and the Valpo Middlebury program, and to experience Lollapalooza, a la chilena. 

I am hoping that getting out of Buenos Aires will get me back into Buenos Aires, se entiende?

And this just because

Some citas that have really spoken to me in the hours and hours of intellectual labor:

“No es la primera vez en la historia de la humanidad que las condiciones económicas resultan más poderosas que los más bellos discursos” (Rosa Luxemburgo 179); It is not the first time in the history of humanity that economic conditions have been more powerful than the most beautiful discourses.

“Desde el momento que digo yo; desde el momento que me particularizo, que me elijo, que elijo ser yo, único e irrepetible, siento que rompo la unidad con mi familia, con mi madre, con todo el mundo…” (Rubén Dri 18)

As I said to the ladrones: Ya me voy, chao!

Besotes, abrazotes, and all my love