Chau, Uruguay.

My time in Uruguay is coming to a close. I am very, very sad about it. This place not only has been my home for the last four months, it has been a place where I have learned so much about people and about Latin America. I know a lot of the time it seems like Uruguay gets pushed to the side, that they have a hard time competing with popular international destinations like England or France. But Uruguay is a wonderful place. As I reflect on my time here, there are a few things that I want to share that have made my time here in South America amazing.

Some of my favorite places in South America have been:Buenos Aires, Argentina

This is an amazing city. It is right next to Uruguay and has about 12 million people living in the city. It is a very important city in South America because of its size and location. Argentina is famous for its Asado

and for its particular dance, the Tango, whose origins are unkown, but it is known that they have stemmed from Argentinian ports.Tango is an extremely difficult dance to learn, but a beautiful once to watch.

Those are just some of my favorite things about Argentina. One of my favorite things that I cannot post is just the attitude of the people. They are some of the nicest and friendliest people I have met. They are different from the Uruguayans I know because they tend to make a lot more noise and use more handmotions when they talk, but they are just a fun group to be around. They are a very proud people with a rich history and a lot to offer to the world, besides only other countries in South America.

Lo Valdes, Chile
Lo Valdes is not even a major city, or even town, in Chile. It s about two hours outside the capital, Santiago, and we had to take a small, rickety van to drive up the mountains. Once you reach the top, the view is spectacular.From where we stayed, this is what we saw. Because it is not winter here, but fall, we did not get to see the Andes covered in snow. It still was spectacular, they were so big and the rocks were many different colors, like green, purple, blue, and teal. My friend and I hiked to the top of a volcano, I believe it was called Volcan San José. From afar, this is what it looks like.
This is what it looks like from the top, when we finally got there after hiking for 9 miles.
It was a beautiful view.

I do not believe that I have talked about it before, but one of the things that makes Uruguay very unique is a drink called maté. It is very common for everyone to walk around with their maté gourd filled with yerba, which are very similar to ground up tea leaves. They put the yerba in the maté and add hot water from a thermos that they carry around with them. Some people put their maté and yerba in a materia so that is it easier to carry. The tea has a very special, distinct taste. It's sort of bitter, not at all sweet. It is something that every Uruguayan either has tried or drinks on a regular basis.
This picture is a perfect example of how mate works. The maté is filled with yerba and steepin in the hot water. The silver tube is the straw that you drink the tea from. People in Uruguay drink it all the time, no matter what time of the day or night. I learned this the hard way, when I drank some of it late at night and I couldn't sleep for several hours afterward. When I first came to Uruguay, I thought it was an especially strange custom, because everyone walks around with a gourd and a thermos of hot water, drinking something that tasted very different and that had a lot of caffine. But after spending many months here, I have realized that it is something very special and important to the people that live here. I have also noticed that I have not seen as much maté in other countries that I have visited, such as Chile and Argentina.

These have been some of my favorite things in South America. I hope you've enjoyed the blog and I will see you back in the states soon!

So...Hi.

So I know that I have not blogged for about a million years, but it honestly has been a whirlwind month. From the second that I got back from Chile I have been going non-stop. I had about two weeks from the end of that trip until we peaced out to Brazil. So, I am sorry that I have not been able to extrapolate every single solitary detail of my adventures in Chile. Then, I must expound about Brazil. Frankly, there are only a few things that I can say about Brazil, but I will explain when I get to that part in my story.

P.s. I am listening to “Love and Memories” by O.A.R. I feel cool as I blog about my travels.

Anyway. Chile. I feel like I have mixed feelings about it, but I do not think that I have fully experienced Chile as it was meant to be experienced. But I don’t think I fully described where we were and all that entailed, and all that commenced. So after about 7 hours on a bus from Mendoza, Argentina to Santiago, Chile, where we were borderline interrogated at the border. They were some of the most intense border patrol, we had to get out with our luggage and put it through a conveyor belt and answer questions about if we had honey and fruit and nonsense in our bag, to which we all said no, and then we got back into the bus and ended up in Santiago. I didn’t really know how I felt about Santiago, because it was hot and there wasn’t a lot around us, and I didn’t know anyone and we didn’t know where the van to take us to Lo Valdez was going to pick us up. We took taxis to the cross streets and it ended up being this plaza type thing, and we were terribly concerned that we were not going to find this van, because they told us that they had a specific pick up time for the lodge, and we didn’t want to miss it, but we had no idea what we were doing. We walked around the plaza, and asked everyone around us what the deal was and nobody had any of what we were talking about, which freaked us out and we were starting to run over Plan B (which we didn’t have) and we walked around the plaza, looking for a green van, and no one had seen a green van, so we called the company from a random phone/internet place, where I spoke in Spanish for 15 minutes to a woman who could no understand me, nor could I understand her Spanish. The lady, unfortunately, was about as helpful as a foot in that situation, so I walked back to where were dropped up, where Hermano spotted, at long last, the van we had been looking and waiting for for two hours. With all of our bags and nonsense strapped to the top of this rickety old van, we headed up the Andes. We ended up spending about two hours in the van, one our to San José de Itaipu, and then the other one to Lo Valdes. We all breathed a sigh of relief when we reached the lodge, but then we lost it once we saw the view around us. Lo Valdes was, literally, a house in the middle of the mountains. No matter what part of the lodge you were at, there were mountains all around you. We were at about 7 thousand feet, but the mountains were still higher than we were. The whole time we were there it was clear as a bell, with nothing but blue, blue sky and a brilliant sun shining on us. It was cool at night and warm during the day. The lodge itself was terribly simple, it was built in 1932 and is just a simple wooden lodge, with a dining room, a patio, and upstairs there were a few rooms with bunk beds and a sink, and a communal bathroom. Not a gross hostel type bathroom, but simple, clean toilet and showers. There was no wi-fi, no international telephone, no cable, and an electricity curfew. As I describe it I realize it sounds awful and primitive, but I like to use the word simple, or quaint. Because it was not done in a sleazy or gross way, but it was just simply the way it was. Very minimalist. But wonderful at the same time because it reminded me that we don’t need all of that stuff to enjoy ourselves or have a good time, and it simply made me just look around at the immense beauty that surrounded me.
You can imagine the shock that I experienced when I realized that the current renter that ran the place while we stayed there was a middle-aged British man named Andy. It was probably one of the weirdest and coolest surprises I have experienced in my life.

I feel like the utter awesomeness of Andy deserves its own paragraph in this blog. He, in all actuality, deserves his own blog entry, but I feel like at this point it is too late for him to have that. But still. Andy is, hands down, one of the coolest men I have ever met in my life. I do not know his old story, obviously, because he is a British man, and they do not expound gratuitously on their personal life until you know them very well. We did find out, however, that (ps. I am writing this on a bus, on my laptop, and I feel like this is what I am destined to do for the rest of my life. Write about my travel experiences and revel in the fact that my life is awesome) he was born in Uganda, lived in Kenya for some time, then moved back to England. He somehow ended up in Chile, that part we did not find out. But he is from the Oxford area, and the moved to Chile, married a Chilean, and has an adorable 5 year-old English-Chilean daughter, named Isadora. It is very funny because she understands English but does not speak it. She only speaks Spanish. There would not really be a need for her to speak English, because her mom does not know English, nor does anyone else in Chile. Anyway, Andy has traveled all over the world. I do not know why, but he has. All he wears are those awesome hiking pants and fleece pullovers without a shirt underneath it, and with worn hiking boots. The minute the sun goes down he straps on a forehead flashlight and wears it around until he goes to bed. He spends obscene amounts of time outside, where he hikes up mountains and repels off of glaciers and all sorts of nonsense. He is very reserved, but very direct person when he sees fit, and that I think initially put a lot of people off towards him, but he’s actually a terribly cool guy. Example number 1. The second day that we were there, we realized that the price that we initially thought we were paying had doubled. We all started to panic, and we didn’t know if we could afford to stay as long as we thought, and then we would have to go back into Santiago, but where would we stay? What would we do? We had no idea. I do not remember how Andy was notified of this problem, but he was, and he figured out a way for us to all stay the originally number of days that we had planned. It was so nice of him. He could have just as easily said no, that the fees were set and we couldn’t do anything about it, but he made it work for us so that we got to stay and experience the Andes. Anytime he talked you thought that either Daniel Craig or Colin Firth was around, because they have the same Oxfordian accent that is awesome. With that, however, was the snarky, dry British humor. Example number 2. When The Lackey and I were hiking up the volcano (that story will come later) and were nearly about to die, Andy walked by and says “If a seven year old boy can do this, you can” (there was a 7 year old boy with us on the trek who scaled mountains better than a goat. Will expound on that later as well). Which promptly filled me with rage.

There will be another installation soon.

Felices Pascuas!

As I am sure you all know, Easter is coming up very, very soon. Not only is it coming for you and your families, Uruguay is getting ready to celebrate it as well. However, in Uruguay, the celebrations start very early, in February.

In Uruguay, there are many Catholics that live here. Some of them that live here begin their Easter celebration on February 17, called Ash Wednesday. On Ash Wednesday, Lent begins. Lent is a time where Catholics decide to sacrifice something that they regularly have. It can be anything, from a favorite food or a t.v. show. Whatever it is that the person decides to give up has to be given up until Easter Sunday. The week before Easter Sunday in Uruguay, however, is called Semana Santa, or Holy Week. Also called Tourism Week, it is the week before Easter where a lot of people don't have to work and they have the opportunity to spend time with their families and do things like hiking, camping, and vacationing in different parts of Uruguay. If families don't go out, there are many festivals and celebrations within Uruguay during Semana Santa. It is the week that leads up to Easter, and so it is a week where Catholics celebrate the last week of the life of Jesus before he was crucified. They celebrate by reenacting specific events that happened in the last week of Jesus' life. Only during this week are there festivals in the streets where people carry large wooden crosses. There are alters and religious decorations throughout the city for this entire week.

On Thursday, the Last Supper is reenacted, and then on Friday, it is followed by Viernes Santo. Viernes Santo is a very serious day because it is celebrating the day when Jesus was crucified. The Saturday after Viernes Santo is called Sábado de Gloria, the day between when Jesus was crucified and when he was resurrected, and that day is filled with anticipation for the celebration that is to follow the next day. What we call Easter Sunday in the United States is called Domingo de Resurrección. The day that Jesus rose from the dead is celebrated with feasting, singing, and dancing. On Domingo de Resurrección, Lent is over, so whatever somebody went without for a few days, they can have it again.

The food that Uruguayans typically eat on Pascua is called Pascualina.

It is made by filled a thin, flaky crust full of spinach and eggs, as the picture shows. It is typically only eaten during Easter. My favorite food that they have during Semana Santa is a candy filled egg that you can see in almost every grocery store in Uruguay.

I Have the t.v. at the Hostel. Win.

Which is funny, because I normally don't watch a lot of tv. But I am watching some news channel with an English accent. It weird because the tv usually has football on it, but now it doesn't, because I control what happens. It was really funny last night because a Bug's Life was on tv, but it was dubbed over in Spanish. So that was really funny. I didn't watch it because the guy with the remote changed it to football. Or something in English. Anyway, I was too tired to really care because I spent all day rafting in Rio Mendoza.

And let me tell you, it was legitimately fantastic.
Fan.tas.tic.

We had to get up at the crack of dawn to catch a 9 o'clock shuttle out to the river, which took about an hour. We met some very cool British guys on the bus with very cool names, like Nicos and Liam. They talked in their brilliant accents, obviously, and one of the guys did a Texan accent, and that probably was a highlight of my life. He did it very well too, it was surprising. I don't know why, but it made me laugh a lot. Then we finally arrived at the lake and I probably have not seen a more beautiful lake in all of my years. It looked almost fake because of the color blue it was. I would upload a picture, but I cannot find my uploader in the bohemeth of a backpack that I took with me, but let me tell you it is simply beautiful. There were all sorts of craggy mountains around it and it was wonderful. After we stopped ogling at the lake we were directly ordered to strap on all sorts of gear, including wetsuits, water shoes, water jackets, life jackets, and helmets. We had quite the get-up. So then us and about 15 other Americans (epic win, we were with an agg group from South Carolina; did I ever take in their Southern drawl.) we hustled onto another bus, where we drove up the river for about a million miles. After we got a saftey tutorial about how not to die in the river, and then we all hopped in, and were off.

It was a slight out of body experience. I don't really think I can explain it. Other than I knew that I was grabbing life its huesos and sucking the marrow out of it. As we paddled along the rapids, I experienced such an extreme sense of satisfaction and adventure that I wish I had all the time. It was me against the swirly, murky river, with hands of ice that slapped against my body. It was exhilirating, especially when I sat in the very front. Taking the rapids dead on was brilliant. It was dangerous and thrilling and challenging and fantastic all rolled into one thing. It was like Che Guevara and Pocahontas were coursing through my veins at the same time. And every time I wasn't battling the waves I would look up and be surrounded by blue, blue south-hemespheric sky, only to be broken by the brown, and tan crags of the mountains on its side. It was seriously one of the greatest moments of my life.

K. that's all for now. Enjoy.

Spring Break is Upon Us.

I am currently sitting in a hostel in Mendoza, Argentina. And I have to say that I basically adore my life right now.

The super athletic running chick that I live with and adore told me that I am writing the story of my life, and no one else is. Only me. And I have decided that at this present moment I am writing I have probably not been happier. And I don't really know why. I am sitting on a tiny chair at a tiny table, listening to a blend of English and American accents, with football on the tv and Latin music coming from the speakers. All I have with my is a backpack filled with books and socks, and, literally, a sense of adventure. I can go and explore and do and be and all sorts of things here. We are currently having a down day, where we are trying to plan out our days, and we are thinking about rafting and repelling and just being wonderful. I was going to attempt to describe why I love life so much, but it's basically impossible. I just feel like my soul has woken up and that this is what I want to do forever. Which I know is what every college student says, but I really feel like it's true. I could do this for the rest of my life and not regret it. I know I am channelling Che and Alexander McCandless to the umpteeth degree, but I could just go around contemplating the sorrow and injustice in the world and being one with the world for a while. Actually, not for a while. I probably would never get tired of it.

We actually got here about an hour ago. We took the most legitimate way to arrive in Mendoza, on a first class bus. And let me tell you, I don't know why we don't do this in the United States. First off, it was only about 77 US dollars, which is brilliant. We climb on the bus after handing over our backpacks and see that there are only about 24 seats on the top floor. We sat in our huge, plush seats and quickly discovered that they recline all the way back. Into a bed. Yea, that's right. A bed. There was also a step that you could fold up to rest your legs. You got a blanket, pillow, and, best of all, free candy and wi-fi. WI-FI. So awesome. I was free texting everyone and freaking out and it was lovely. They gave us dinner, put on Catch Me If You Can, and took our coffee orders for breakfast the next morning. Going on the bus was the most excellent decisions of my life. I got a ton of sleep, and woke up ready to face the awesomeness that is Mendoza.

I seriously love this. I.seriously.love.this.so.freaking.much.

Blogtastic.

I am so sorry that I have not been diligent with my blogs. I don't really know why I haven't other than there hasn't been too much going on other than homework, homework, and more homework. And my ever-growing obsession with Ernesto 'Che' Guevara.

So there hasn't really been much too report. Other than I am absolutely falling in love with this country. And I might possibly die from grief when I leave. It is a very, very serious possibility. I don't know what it is but as of late I am loving EVERYTHING about this place. Maybe not the trash on the streets, and the fact that they lack my hair products, but that is a very, very small price to pay for everything that is wonderful about this place. Everyone is SO nice. Seriously. It's not a fake nice either. People genuinely care about you. Every single waiter or waitress I have had has been so lovely and kind and friendly. That includes cashiers and strangers and dogs. Everything. For example, in a HUGE twist of fate, I stopped in a bookstore where a horrific moment ensued due to Eric Bana. However, when Eric Bana left, the shopkeeper and I talked for a while after I bought my book on Che (don't judge me) and she was SO nice. She was my age, if not a tiny bit older, and was just very, very friendly. The second time I went in there with the doctor and the lackey and sans Eric Bana, aka mortification central, the shopkeeper, whose name I still do not know, offered us coffee and tea. I mean, come on! So nice! The lackey almost had a conniption because they had Twinings breakfast tea. That is how great this place is. And of course at Bacacay, all of the waiters and waitresses know us there. Ha. It's because we are there once a week, if not more; ordering all of those delicious cortados and coffee infused brownies with ice cream. It is my favorite cafe in all of Montevideo. And they are just lovely.

Montevideo also has a very relaxed atmosphere. Everyone is just very relaxed; things will get done when they get done, no worry really fusses or worries. And it's nice to be people around that all the time. It's seriously a refreshing atmosphere, where people just let things be. It is turning me into a hippie and it is terrifying me. I am just mellow and whatever about everything, instead of getting worked up about every little thing. I mean, I still joke around and whatever, but I don't get seriously really angry, and I just love everyone. Good heavens, I am turning into a hippie. This is so scary. I bought a headband the other day. Once you look at this picture, you will be taken back to the good old days.

Yea. Terrifying. Freaking handmade hippie headband from Ciudad Vieja.

This epic realization of me being a hippie has also made me realize another thing. Another thing which is that I am too eclectic for words. Seriously. So. Flipping. Eclectic. I am a walking contradiction, an enigma of sorts. In every aspect of my life. I have a growing affinity for Che Guevara and the Latin American reasoning behind Marxism, yet I have a very strong, almost unhealthy addiction to supporting that which is known as capitalism, through my terribly strong draw to beautiful headbands and manicures. I am an alarming realist regarding national security and defense, and yet India holds the most tender spot in my heart. I have been to five of the seven continents, and yet I am getting so excited to go to Lubbock and visit my friend Alayna. Like, way excited. Probably too excited for Lubbock, but I want to go. And go I shall. I can rock out to Lady Antebellum as hard as I can rock out to a Portuguese song I found on a cd for three bucks as hard I can to Michael Jackson. I drink maté with the equal affinity that I drink bubble tea. I could switch topics of discussion from art to pop culture to firearms to broadway musicals without thinking much about it. I want a pet owl, octopus, or tarsier. Seriously. It's flipping weird. I am myself and I still think it's weird. I am a flipping weirdo. I don't know what to do about it. So far attempting to embrace my affinity for life is what I am trying to do. And there have been a few times where I have utterly relished the fact that I am all of these things. I hope as time passes it will just be a natural thing, to love all my eclectic nature completely.

I am rather surprised as to how much I adore Latin America. At first I was paranoid that I would come here and I would simply abhor it, and then begin to tolerate it. But it is the quite opposite. I love every single aspect of it. It has embraced me and taught me, by living here I can begin to untangle the knots of history and truly understand how Uruguay came to be. Argentina and I hit it off very well too. I could definitely see myself working there in the future. Doing what, I have no clue. But I could see myself there, talking in loud Spanish with exaggerated hand movements about futbol or the newest legislation regarding import taxes, being fabulous and cosmopolitan, and then peacing out to Montevideo for vacation, hopefully in La Paloma or Cabo Polonio, where I exercise another facet of my personality by living with some hippies for a few weeks and all we talk about is love.

Oh, South Ameican, you will be the ruin of me. You have unleashed a travel bug of epic proportions. Folks back home, you best be buying yourself a backpack. I will need a travel buddy. I cannot venture to Bolivia alone. Nor can I go to Lebanon alone either. Now come to think about it, I can't go to Japan, because I speak no Japanese. Hm. Guess I need someone to go with me...

K. I need sleep.
Final thought: Motorcycle Diaries rules. Gael García Bernal is my favorite human as of this moment right.....now.

Feelings.

I am writing this blog because I am trying to find a creative outlet for my feelings at this point.

So there is someone in the house that makes me feel like crap. Not because of what this person does, or how this person treats me. It's just comparison 2010 with him. He wants to go to a prestigious law school. 4.0s up the yang. Law firms. Congress internships.

And he's talking to me. None of which apply to me. There is no way I can compare to him. And I feel like the pressure he puts on himself is the same pressure I need to be putting on myself, even though we are not in the same caliber at all. I am so happy that he is who he is, but after that I just sit back and look at my life and realize how much I have limited myself because of the decisions I have made. And it breaks my heart. I just want to give up and quit. And just not even care about making a difference. I don't really know why I feel like I have to be all of these things to make a difference. I don't know why I think that having an extremely high GPA will hinder me from making a difference and doing whatever it is that I am supposed to do on earth. I hate how everything banks on my GPA. It seems as though nobody cares about the kind of person I am. I feel like now I am just starting to understand the pressure that I am under for life. I wish I had this hindsight 2 years ago. Things would be a lot different.

I guess I just feel bad about myself all of the time because of certain expectations. I don't know if I set them or other people did, but they are set. And I am trying so hard to achieve them. Yet from my past mistakes it seems like I don't have any hope. I am going to be reduced to less than what is my destiny. And that breaks my heart. I'm just a failure. Why try? I don't even know what I want to do with my life. So why should I even bother? Why not just drop out and go to Cabo Polonio for forever? Why not just go home to a CC and live the easy life? Why do I do this? Am I really cut out for this?

This is just me ranting. I know it will pass. But I am just not feeling the greatest at present.

That is all.

Long Time Coming

So I realized that I have not blogged in a very long time. And I am very sorry for this. I have had so much going on; with tests, reading, papers. All sorts of things. Frankly, the amount of work I have to do is rather alarming, given that I am in a foreign land and I really shouldn't be confined to my room, reading and writing. Really, I shouldn't. But alas, that is what I am doing. I was rather mad that I could not report of the weekend I had. Not this weekend, upcoming. But thelast.

And may I tell you; that it was one of the most wonderful weekends I have had. Ever. I cannot possibly type it all out in every excruciating detail, and I know how much everyone would love to read my descriptions of dead sea lion and sunburns, but I will spare those details for the most important things. And so I shall begin at number 1.

1. We were up, of course, at the crack of dawn to hit the Uruguayan road. We peaced out of the city early in the morning and headed east to Casapueblo.
This is the home of a very famous Uruguayan artist named Carlos Páez Vilaró. He is a big deal in Chivitoland, painting abstract paintings of women and typical life in Buenos Aires. To be honest, I like the story of his life better than his actual paintings. We had to watch a video of him before we went through the museum, and that man has been everywhere. He has been all over Africa, which made me so jealous, he visited all sorts of islands and painted and made friends and all sorts of things, but he said in the video that he was very lonely a lot of the time. And I could see that. I could feel it in his house as we walked around the patios and balconies facing the Atlantic. He lives a very lonely life. Still. After all he experienced. Traveling the world. Meeting Picasso. Painting, painting, painting. And yet, he is still a lonely man. Which made me sad, but also was one of the reasons that I find his story so appealing. He has everything, yet he doesn't. Very interesting, in my book.
His house was beautiful. It's a funky, white, large thing seated on a cliff. It was rather terrifying to park our charter bus on its cliffs, because our driver made sure we parked most excellently in our designated spot in the dirt parking lot (meaning we didn't actually have a spot). So I was fearing for my life the majority of the time. Anyway. It was a lovely house. I have to write about it for a paper in my art class, so I am just getting warmed up. But I really liked the house.

2. Punta del Este. It's like the Beverly Hills of Uruguay. It has the most expensive real estate in South America. And for good reason, because it is absolutely beautiful. It was peaceful and spaced out, not cramped all together like Montevideo. It's just a beautiful spot of beach. Not my favorite, but a very lovely part. We stopped at La Mano, a famous sculpture of a hand, mainly the fingers, coming out of the sand. So,of course, being Americans, we had to climb up it and jump off and take pictures and all sorts of activities that draw attention to ourselves. La mano was cool, and I wish that I could have spent more time there, because it was hot and the middle of the day, so it was perfect beach weather, but we didn't; we had to get hustled back to the bus to go on to our next adventure. Which was undoubtedly amazing.

3. Two words: La Paloma.
It is an itty bitty beach down a few hours from Punta del Este and it was fantastic. I don't think I have ever felt so relaxed. Our hotel was outside of the actual town, but the town itself probably had about 200 houses and 11 restaurants. It was very, very small, but the people were SO friendly. It was just a lovely place. We had a rather funny incident, though, when we went swimming late in the afternoon. I don't even really know what happened, but it freaked a lot of us out. Since we all apparently have never seen the ocean, we all went in and were swimming and acting all giddy and joyous and ridiculous. The water was warm and we were out of the city and having a good time, so about 8 of us were out in the water swimming and making a human chain against the waves. Little did we realize, however, that we were getting sucked out into the open ocean, the hand of the Posiedon, or Iemanja, depending on where you come from, pulled us out to where our feed could not touch the soft, squishy sand. We decided at this point it would be better to swim in so that we would be safer. Then, out of nowhere, and I mean seriously nowhere, there were about 9 latin american lifeguards with their bouys swimming around us. They kept asking if I was ok, which I was, and they swam past me to help the rest of the group, who unbeknowst to us, was all in trouble. I was terribly confused and curious as if we were actually in danger, because while I was getting tired swimming in, I was quite alright, being raised at the beach and all. I mean, I'm basically a mermaid. I don't know why the lifeguards were so concerned. They pulled some of the group back in on bouys when they didn't really need bouys. Some even took people in on surfboards. I was so confused. Was this really a big deal? Apparently so, because as we all walked onto the sand everyone withing about 100 feet were staring at the group of young Americans. They even started clapping as we walked onto shore. I was very confused. Apparently we were in some sort of epic danger. Which was kind of cool. Yet terribly confusing. But everyone lived, we were all ok, no need to worry about us here in the dirty south.

I sort of feel like as I blog it does not truly convey the awesomeness that exists. I am trying, really I am, and I know my descriptions will not do justice to anything I experience. But I am trying. So just give me credit.

4. Cabo Polonia is basically a hippie commune. And I saw that with all seriousness. First of all, you can't just take a bus there. That would be entirely too easy. We had to take these epic trucks out over the sand dunes to get out to the beach, and we went to the tiny itty bitty hotel, where we stuffed our faces with lamb and then headed to the beach. This was the most remote, beautiful beach ever. I loved it. We walked to the hippie commune and back and it was just lovely. I know I say that for everything. But seriously. It.was.so.awesome. There were probably about 30 houses upon the hill that we walked to, and they all had hammocks and open windows and breezy curtains. I was so, so relaxed. It really made me want to buy a hammock. And just sit at it at the beach for forever. But alas, we had to return to La Paloma. I rode on top of the truck back to the bus stop at dusk, and it was absolutely beautiful. The sun was setting and it was all metallic looking everywhere, with a cool breeze blowing over the Lackey and I as we discussed life and were battered about in the truck. It was glorious. I probably wouldn't trade it for anything.

K. there. Finally. an update. Enjoy.

Paz.

Discouraged.

This week absolutely flew by.

Seriously. It was slightly ridiculous. It's already Friday, and I am getting ready to peace out to some super ghetto hotel thing near Punta del Este. I am actually really excited about it. I have been looking forward to Punta del Este for a while. It's supposed to be one of the sexiest beaches in the world. Which is a good thing, because those are the only kind of beaches I go to. Obviously.

...That was a joke. Total joke.

I am using my new backpackkkkkk for this trip, since it is only a weekend trip, and I wanted to test it out. So far, as I look at it leaning against a chair stuffed with most likely unecessary things for my trip, I am psyched out of my mind because I have a backpack. I want to backpack everywhere. In the world. The whole. Freaking. World. Seriously. I can't even deal with it. I have wanted a backpack my whole life. And now I have one. Like, a backpack backpack. SO. Pumped.

Anyway. I don't really know what else to talk about. I feel like it's no big deal I am here now. And in a way, it's not. But in a way, it is. Because I am still 5,000 miles from anything remotely familiar. And yet, this place is becoming so familiar. I have my favorite café (Café Bacacay) and favorite places to shop (Punta Carretas) and I am a regular at my laundry place. It's a cool experience, and I feel like I don't know if I would be able to have anything like this, where people remember me and are super nice all the time to me. People are nice at home, but I am not a regular anywhere, at least in California. I mean, I regularly go to Ace Hardware, and I see the same like 5 employees, but no one remembers me or anything. And here, the Eric Bana waiter look-alike at Bacacay and Fluffy (another waiter at Bacacay, do not ask to hear the story behind his Alias) remember us and think we are the most fantastic people ever. It's a lot more personable here. Like I said before, it's definitely a transitional phase right now. Which I am not sure how I feel about.

My Spanish is finally starting to improve. After a billion years and a few weeks of solid humiliation and torture, it's finally getting to the point where, once I am in the Spanish zone, I don't really have to think. I mean, I do. But not to string together the basic sentences and make jokes and stuff like that. If I was trying to tell a story, yea, it'd be harder. And I can't write novels or moving poems or anything, but I am just starting to wrap my brain around Spanish. I cannot wait to see where I end up at the end of Lent, or at the end of this whole excursion here.

Every Thursday I do this thing called Let's Start Talking, where you teach english to people who only know a little bit or no English, and you read passages from the bible and talk about them. It sounds like it's no big deal, but it is really actually very cool. It varies depending on the skill level of the person that you work with. The first two times I read with people that knew quite a bit of English, but tonight, the person I worked with knew absolutely no English. So that was a big of a stretch. I spoke a ton of Spanish.

The key is practice, people, I don't care how many years of Spanish you take in school, it only matters how much you talk to people who are native speakers. Seriously. My new life goal is to travel the world for monthes at a time and teach myself various languages. French? Portuguese? Italian? Hindi? This world has too much to offer to be stuck in one place. Seriously. Don't do it. Get out of your house. Go outside.

Random tangent. I really do enjoy LST a lot. It's a way to get to talk to people and get to know them.

The other night we went to a Philharmonic thing at the Teatro Solis. It was awesome. We had box seats, which was awesome, because it made me feel like someone back in the old days, who had their own boxes and sat around and talking in stiff English accents and were classy and awesome. Alas, it is not back in the day, and I am not English, but still. Close enough. But the song at the end that they sang (It was a tango group with the Philharmonic) a song called "Ocho Letras" about Freedom and Liberty (ha, I capitalized those. They are that important) and the crowd absolutely went nuts. I am not completely sure why, because I cannot decipher men bellowing patriotic tunes, but it was an extreme show of national pride. Not in an obnoxious way, but just a pure love of country as the crowd clapped and whistled and shouted for an encore. It was incredible. I don't think I will ever have the skill to describe it. It was really fun that we got to get dressed up (check my facebook) and go out to something like that. Even though it promptly decided to pour down rain the hour before we were going to leave. Whatever. It still rocked.

K. I just wanted to get a little blog in before my computer and I break up for a weekend. That's what I am up to. Sorry it's not a great blog, I am really tired. Until later.

Paz.

Love Explosion.

Last week I had something of a breakdown. And I hate admitting that because I am enough of a spaz already, so I don't want to perpetuate my nonsense, but I had something that was similar to a breakdown. And I don't really know how it happened, but since then I feel like there's a lot more love towards people in my life currently. And I hope that doesn't sound contradictory, because while I might not act it out all the time, I feel it whenever I sit in chapel or make dinner with people, there's just this appreciation and contentment I have with everyone that I live with. And I mean, we have our issues, but we are all really quick to apologize to each other if anything happens, at least that's my observation. And I don't know if everyone is feeling this or if it's just because I have gotten over the "everyone is bugging me" stage and everyone is actually pretty cool, or if I just genuinely love them. I hope it's the latter. I just realized that I feel embarrassed writing this, given its vile delivery into my blog.

But I do feel like there has been a love explosion. Things that used to bug me don't really anymore. And I don't know if that is because I have taken the mentality of accepting it in someone, or just simply overlooking it because I love them. Or maybe both. It probably is both, because you love someone by accepting them as they are. I don't know. But to people in the house that read this: I have sunk my claws of loyalty into this group. You probably won't ever be able to remove them. So deal with it.

I realized that in my last blog when I was whining about having nothing to blog about that I freaking decided to give up the mother tongue for 40 days. I started it last week, so today I am starting week number 2. And let me tell you, I almost died from its difficulty last week. It's really good to do, but man, it was hard. I realized how much I really do talk. So, for anyone who has known me the past 15-20 years, I am really, really sorry. I had to be silent, a lot, because I have not yet mastered the art of the snarky comment in Spanish. So, I only spoke in basic sentences and asked simple questions. Another part of the problem is that there aren't a lot of people in the house that have advanced Spanish, because there are a lot of beginners or intermediates that are just learning a bunch of stuff, and so if I want to rattle off something in Spanish, I don't expect a lot of people to know what I am talking about right off the bat. And that sounds terribly snobby, but I don't mean it to be at all. I am really proud of the people that have taken this Spanish thing head on, coming to a Spanish speaking (and when I say Spanish speaking I mean Spanish Speaking, that people only speak Spanish. There is not a high percentage of people that are bilingual. You can find people that speak English, but it is rare.) country and learning it all. It's the best way to learn a language, honestly, and I don't think that I could do what they are doing. So props to y'all. Keep it up. But I talk to my roomate in Spanish, and that helps, but the thing that helps is talking to a local that is learning English but speaks Spanish. Yesterday, I hung out with someone who speaks good English, but Spanish is his first language. So we talked back and forth, in Spanish and English, and I probably spoke more consistent Spanish than I had all week. And I did well. And since everyone tells me how hard I am on myself all the time, it is good when I say I feel like I progressed a lot yesterday. I can tell I progress when I don't have to think about what I say before I say it. And I was doing a lot of that. I mean, I wasn't telling epic stories and we weren't talking about philosophy, but the less I have to think about Spanish, the better. And that goes for anyone. If you don't have to think about it, that means it's almost second nature. The only thing that concerns me is people are always like "I had a dream in Spanish!" and I never have. Yet I consider myself on the more fluent side. But dreaming in Spanish is a sign of fluency. So I am confused. Then again, my dreams have never had much talking in them. Actually, now that I think about it, my dreams are never verbal. They are usually just really, really strange. I probably don't talk in them because I talk enough during the day so that my brain works during the night and tries to put words in my dreams, but then realizes that I have expended so many of them during they day, there's not really much to say in my dreams. Maybe now since I am talking less my brain will be able to throw some Spanish in my dreams. Maybe some French. Or Chinese. Maybe a dead language if my brain gets around to it.

We are going to the Teatro Solis toniiight! I am beyond excited. That means we get to dress up. I definitely have my outfit picked out. I've had it picked out since about 2 and a half weeks ago. After I typed that I already felt the judgment of all y'all reading this. Don't judge. It's a flipping awesome outfit. Teal heels from Buenos Aires? You cannot even mess with that awesomeness. Whatever. I am excited. We are going to listen to the Philharmonic. Classical music and teal heels make for an awesome evening. I probably will end up at Cafe Bacacay, because that is just what tends to happen with me. I feel like when I have my last meal in Uruguay, I will end up stopping there. And hugging all of the waiters and waitresses there. And basically act a fool.

It is still weird to think that I am in Uruguay. I mean, when I got here, I was like whoa! I am in Uruguay! But now, I find myself just being all, I am in South America. Still. I am living in a foreign country. But it doesn't feel all that foreign anymore. I mean, it feels foreign in some ways, but Uruguay and its people have welcomed me with open arms and forgiven my grevious and mostly atrocious cross-cultural faux pas and introduced me to a little piece of heaven called Dulce de Leche and black coffee with cream. And Cortados. This is a magnificent place. I judge you fools for not knowing about it. But, then again, I don't, because a few short months ago I was an ignorant fool. But Uruguay is a hidden treasure. And it feels like home. Not all aspects, of course, because they do not have chunky peanut butter (why? I have no idea. I don't know why they are so vehemenently opposed to the idea of putting pieces of the initial ingredient in the finished product) and spray hair products, and my labradoodle, and mongolian barbecue. But still. All things aside, it is like my home. I know where things are. I can speak the language (ish). I have made friends here. I now comprehend the concept of milk in a bag and the fact that they serve a shot glass of sparking water with your coffee. I feel like I am reaching the phase where I am not utter toursit sauce but I am still an American. I don't know what that would be called. Something akin to an ex-pat, I assume. Not that I am an ex-pat, but any means, but just the fact that I am not a tourist anymore, I take buses and walk everywhere. I know where the good shopping is and I am not afraid to go places by myself. I don't think that I am completely assimilated into the culture, but it is not new to me. I don't understand all of the politics completely, or the nuance they carry, nor do I understand all of the social implications, but I have time to learn. But I feel like I have learned and grown monumentally since I have been here.

We are going to Rocha this weekend. I am definitely excited. I feel like I have caught the travel bug again. This time he is coming back with a vengeance and rearing his ugly head. In a bad way. Good thing I get to go to Chile. and Brazil. Otherwise, I might die from complacency.

Not Much To Say...

IT'S COLD.

I mean, not for real. But cold for Montevideo. The past few nights I have been half awoken to search blindly for my blanket and promptly fall back to sleep once I pull it over me. Which has been rather nice. But that was a few days ago. It has rained off an on and gets a bit sticky from time to time, but overall it is lovely. It is going to be fall soon, so hopefully that means that I can not die in my sleep on a regular basis. I am looking forward to that.

You know what else I am excited about.

Spring Breakkkk! And I don't mean that in the typical let's get smashed summer beach extravaganza nonsense. Because that is just tacky. And gross. But I am doing something for it. And I am terribly excited. I am going white water rafting in Argentina, and then taking a bus to Chile, and hiking about in the Andes and riding horses and using a backpack. I am so excited. Expect a blog dedicated to my backpack tomorrow. Because it's a legit backpacker's backpack. And I am basically psyched out of my mind. I don't have all of the details lined up for the trip yet, but they will come soon. I am so pumped!

As for other things a'happening in Uruguay, I don't have that much to report. Other than we had breakfast for dinner. Eggs, bacon, biscuts. Deliciousness. And I just hung out in Punta Carretas and Ciudad Vieja all day with The Lackey. We used our innate sense of direction to get us to the two places we wanted to go. We actually started out at Punta Carretas, the most wonderful (and expensive) mall in all of Montevideo. I just walk in and out of those stores, crying a little inside because of all of the beautiful things I don't want to pay US$280 for anything. But I always end up just hanging out there. Maybe becase it is airconditioned. Anyway, after Punta Carretas (ps, Punta Carretas used to be a prison, where they tortured political prisoners. Awesome. Talk about efficient use of space. Don't judge that statement.) we decided we wanted to head to good ol' Ciudad Vieja, via bus. So we hopped on the bus and were going to get off on a random location to eat lunch and then get back on the bus and head over to Plaza Independencia/Ciudad Vieja. But then I was suddenly struck by a mad flash of genius and remembered that there was really good food at the now dubbed 'hipster café' that I went to with The Doctor one time and I got amazing Linguine that was pretty life changing. So we decided just to head to Ciudad Vieja instead of stopping. So we get off the bus, and, since I have such an awesome sense of direction, we head somewhere to the left. And walk for a while. And then end up at the hipster café. And eat the Linguine.

To be honest, I don't know how we ended up there. But we did.


After our amazing lunch we decided to head to Mercado del Puerto, to retrace our steps back to a store that has amazing purses. And when I say amazing, it is truth. Pure unadulterated truth. Truth so pure it's like honey. Or snow. I sort of think that we took the rather sketchy route, because it didn't seem like the most uppity neighborhood. We passed some run down buildings/apartments, walked by a group of people playing soccer on a field, and then hit the rambla. We were very confused and hoped that the road we were on didn't take us to Cerro. Then we walked right by the port. Which I thought was very strange. Ports seem very mythical to me. I mean, I know they exist, but I guess I think of them like they would be in Amsterdam in 1813. I don't know why. My brain will not accept modern day ports. Strange thing. Anyway, thanks to our keen sense of direction, we found Mercado del Puerto and found the purse store.

We only actually found it by going straight.

That's about all I have to report. Nothing terribly exciting. Just Uruguay. Lovely Uruguay. Getting freaking mad knowing I have to leave and probably won't come back for a long, long time. It's really upsetting. I feel like such a baby, but I really should just take advantage and love all of it here instead of spending all of my time in my room. I will figure out what to do eventually. This was kind of a stupid blog, so I am sorry, I haven't had much to blog about and I have been exhausted, so we shall see what this week holds for blogging material.

Paz.

Matéholic.

And so the obsession with mate has started. Raquel showed me and The Brother how to put it together, so sipped it all the way through house meeting, and it is quite delicious. Addicting, rather. I am sitting on my bed with my gourd blogging about nothing. As is a day in the life.

Not really. I actually have tons to do that I intend to finish in the next few hours. I listed it all on my facebook, but it's primarily just a lot of papers. And reading. Now that is the story of my life.

Yesterday was Valentine's day. And no, that was not why I did not write yesterday. I did n0t write because there was not a ton to note about the day. I didn't get flowers or candy or anything. Yet somehow, I feel as though I can deal. A bunch of us went and saw the Valentine's Day movie, which was really cute. And funny. It made me laugh a lot, and it had all sorts of celebrities in it. And it was in English, with Spanish subtitles. Win. I don't really have much to say about Valentine's day. I don't think that it should be as commercialized, but I don't think it should be hated so much and boycotted like it is. I think it should just be a normal day where you can do something special for someone. It's just cuter if it's on that day. If that makes any sense. It probably doesn't. Whatever.

(P.s. I am currently playing Hilary Hahn in my ears. Glorious.)

The weather gods have been uncharacteristic in their kindness to Montevideo. It is cool, literally. I got cold last night. Granted, I still have my fan going, but it is more like an accessory to the coolness instead of being the only reason I can survive.

Lent is coming up and I am contemplating if there is something I should give up. I don't really know what it would be, but since the Brother was making me feel all guilty about it, I don't know if I am going to do it, but I want to give up English. That would be the hardest thing I have given up ever. I would cry every day for the first two weeks, but then it would get a lot easier. I really want to get better at Spanish, and I know that it would definitely help me improve. The only times that I wouldn't speak in Spanish would be in class, talking to my parents, and when I blog.

That is a lot of Spanish. I don't know if I want to do that. But then I think about it and what else would I give up? The Brother told me that it's something you sacrifice in order to realize your sins and repent, but if I give up facebook or something, I don't see how that is so much better than English. I feel like English could be something really good to give up because it is so close to to the core of me, it's the language I think and feel and reason in, and to give that up and take on a new way of doing that I feel is a considerable sacrifice. And I feel like when I have to translate everything in my head into Spanish, it will make me step back and look at the things that I say all the time. Which is definitely needed. But I don't know. I shall see.

I got really, really sunburned on Saturday.

I still need to plan my Spring Break trip! I am seriously looking into an Amazon boating adventure. But I really want to four wheel in Easter Island too. I really just want to go by myself to Easter Island. Or just walk around the Lake District in Chile alone. I don't know why people think that's weird.

Anyway, off to work.

Paz.

FOR THE WIN.

I just want everyone on this blog to realize that:
i.have.figured.out.Lucas.
Lucas will dominate me no more, with its crazy hamburger etiquette.
I have finally figured out what the deal is with that place. And I feel sort of stupid for figuring it out a month later, but whatever. I figured it out. Don't you judge me.
There are I think three different hamburgers that you can get. The plain, normal, and then the real deal. And each of those things comes with specific things you can get. Like, the plain hamburgers come with ketchup, mayonaise, chimchurri, and two kinds of mustard. The normal one has all of those things plus olives and peppers and a few other things. The real deal is onions (fried or raw), peppers, olives, corn, apple, pineapple, peas, pickles, cheese, ham, and other stuff.
SO.
I have figured out. THAT.
You just order one of those.
and THEN.
YOU DECIDE WHAT YOU WANT ON IT.
But. You get to decide what you want on it.
So, for example, I could order the plain hamburger, but only get Ketchup, bun, and meat. Or, I could order a regular with ketchup, mayo, and peppers. OR. I could order the real deal and get ham, burger, onions, papas fritas, apples, pinapple, corn, medium salsa, all wrapped up in a bun.
Which I did.
I beasted Lucas. It holds me in bondage no longer.
It was delicious.

I have to admit that the only reason I figured this out was because I watched a local woman order a hamburger. She got the real deal with a bunch of weird stuff, I don't remembr all of it. But she asked for "mucho ketchup". Which kind of made me laugh.
Thank you, random hungry lady, for freeing me from the chains that are the hamburger stand.

We went to the beach today. And it was wonderful. We were there for several hours and I am now back at casa with that "I've taken in the sun" feeling and salty hair. It is lovely and when I walked with the Lackey to Iberpark for chocolate, a breeze blew and it finally felt like summer. I mean, I know it has been summer this whole time, but tonight it actually felt like a summer that I had experienced. I can't wait to go home and have it feel like that again for another three months. Not that I am excited about leaving. At all. As I told someone when they asked when I was coming back, "not in the near future".

Ohh Uruguay. I hate what you do to me.

More Argentina.

I cannot believe in my fervor of write about drugstores in Argentina I totally forgot to mention one of the highlights, posted above. This is a very large picture and I was quite unaware of that until now. Anyway. I did not take that picture, but I am pretty sure I have it somewhere on my computer. Which is kind of stupid, now that I think about it, because this is supposed to be my travel blog, with my pictures and stuff. But I realized that when I post pictures a lot of the time they are even bigger than this one. Which is sort of alarming. Anyway. Here is a picture of Eva Perón's grave. She and her whole family are buried here. She has a rather interesting story, though I am not entirely well versed on the political side of her life. She grew up very poor and moved to Buenos Aires for an acting career, and she eventually turned out to be a pretty big deal. So big of a deal, apparently, that she caught the eye of the president, Juan Perón, and they hit it off. She apparently was very scandolosa during his presidency, because she wore pants and they lived together and weren't married, not to mention she was about 20 years younger than him. Which, in my personal opinion, is gross. Anyway, all that hanging out with Juan Peron paid off, because she was the first female president of Argentina who fought for labor rights and women's sufferage. But right as she was moving into her prime, she got cancer and her health declined rapidly, so she had to step down from the presidency. She had a movie made out of her, where the famous song "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" was created. In Spanish, it's called "No Llores por Mi Argentina", and I found a beautiful version of it by Paloma in my Spanish conversational class, and I have been listening to it nonstop.
It's beautiful. When I was there, I felt it necessary to honor her memory by singing the song at her grave. The Latina and I sang it in front of her grave, with Australian tourists looking on and saying that Evita would be rolling in her grave if she saw us. Well you know what, Australia? She didn't even write the song, it was written for her, and, since we heard it, we are singing it to her. So, she is getting double the credit even though the only reason she had an in with the president was because he was famous. And thought she was a babe. We are honoring her, and so is the song. So she is getting all sorts of undeserved attention. Which she would have loved, since apparently she loved any sort of publicity and she was starved for attention for a while. Kind of like a middle child.

We are now back in Uruguay and it is rather strange. A lot of the newness has worn off and that is kind of cool, yet frustrating at the same time. It's cool because I am not afraid to take buses all over the city and get what I need at places and stuff like that, and make friends and talk to people, but it has just dawned on me that I am here until May. And that is a long time. A very, very long time. The Lackey has been counting, which I do not understand why, but she has, and we have 82 days left or something. Which seems like a lot, but I know it will fly by when we are finished. I also feel like I am getting to the point where I am actually getting attached to people because of this experience. I mean, when we got here, I thought that everyone was cool, and I liked them a lot, but I feel like I am starting to genuinely like everyone on a deeper level. And it scares me because I know that when this is over it is going to absolutely rip me apart. Not only leaving everyone here, but leaving Uruguay. I feel like right now is the do or die moment; do I push everyone away, quit being vulnerable, quit getting to know everyone, convince myself that I have learned all the Spanish there is to know and know everything about Uruguay that there is to know, and take away what I have from it now? Or, knowing what I know, that I am falling in love with Uruguay and these people I'm living with, and continue to invest everything I have in them to leave with a much richer experience? I belive that the answer is obvious. But acting it out is the tough part. I am in love.

I miss this though:

Recap?

I have finally settled back into the routine that is Montevideo.

The past few days I have been in Buenos Aires and my head is still reeling from that whole experience. I don't even think I have processed most of it, even though I had a day and a half with which I could do it. I spent most of yesterday, and a lot of today, being exhausted. I don't know when I am going to have time to just chill outttt, because tomorrow I have the class regime from hell. But at least for one class we are going to a museum. I have reading for terrorism studies, sentences for conversational, and a mini paper. Rawr. The thing I want to concentrate the most on is the reading, because I feel like that will be the hardest. So, when I really want to just sit for hours ad nauseum doing nothing, I cannot. My life is tragic.

Tragically awesome.

Buenos Aires is a fantastic city. It is ginormous. Well, I suppose it is ginormous in comparison to Montevideo, which has a population of about 1.3 million people. So most places are big. According to Wikipedia, that I just checked, there are about 3 million people in Buenos Aires, but I saw somewhere that there were 12 million people there. So I don't know. I don't think it's a mega city when I looked other places, but it seemed pretty freaking big. And scary. But, since I am looking at it, this is what Wikipedia says are the most populated cities.

1. Shanghai, China
2. Mumbai, India
3. Beijing, China
4. Sao Paolo, Brazil
5. Seoul, Korea
6. Moscow, Russia.
7. Delhi, India
8. Congquing, China
9. Istanbul, Turkey
10. Karachi, Pakistan

There you go. Enjoy that. Ps, thank you, China, for getting your population on. Goodness.

Anyway, I cannot possibly recap every single thing that happened in Buenos Aires, so I am going to do a highlights segment for Buenos Aires. Not in order, just what I remember.

1. There is a place called Farmacity. Which is just like a CVS or Walgreens. Except it is so much cooler because the name is an incredbily cool play on words. It kind of sounds like pharmacy. Man, was I amused by that. But it's a farmacity. And I like it. Except for the cashier was probably the rudest human I have ever come into contact with there. First off, Argentineans are soooo picky about money. They absolutely abhor when you use a bill that is too big to pay for something. It's not like they have a terrible economy. They'll get their change replaced. I promise. My friend paid for her stuff at Farmacity and had just withdrawn money at the atm, and so since the ATM doesn't cater to the whims of the Argentineans, which it should, because, hello, it's in freaking Argentina, she had a large bill. She didn't buy too much stuff, but the cashier chewed her out for not having anything smaller. And since we had been in the country for about 36 hours, we hadn't turned into urban socialites yet, so we don't know what we are doing, and he probably could tell. But he decided to chew her out. Not cool. Whatever happened to the customer is always right? What about common courteousy? What about the fact that that she was freaking supporting your lifestyle, you bum. Then, when I went, and paid for my stuff with a credit card, and since I needed to show him an ID, I showed him my lisence, which I have done other places, and they just need to check it to see that it matches me, and not my number. Not this guy. He freaking enters in the number for my drivers lisence, which clearly says CALIFORNIA in big blue letters at the top. With an address below it. But ohhh no. This kid just starts punching them in. And then he prints it out and looks at me and says "Error" in exaggerated Spanish. Ok, smarty pants, if you weren't so freaking anxious to check me out you would let me freaking get my freaking passport. Foolish. So then because he is such a mean spaz I have to rummage around for my passport, and then he gets those numbers and it works like a dream. That's what you get for being impatient, cranky farmacity adolescent.

2. We went to a tango show. Where they feed you. And then feed your soul. With tango. And I can legitimately tell you that it was one of the most fantastic experiences of my life. The tango is a.ma.zing. I cann0t really describe it to you except for the fact that I want to dedicate my life to perfecting its steps. It's exciting, it's sexy, it's dramatic, it's powerful. It's freaking hard. I cannot imagine how long those people were practicing all of that. They made it look so easy. I could probably do that for the rest of my life and be totally happy. It was especially wonderful to see because we were watching it in its native land, though that is debatable because Uruguay claims that it invented tango, but nobody really knows where it comes from. All they know now is that it is an incredible dance and take immense pride in having it come from their culture. Argentina definitely gets points because of their tango origins.

3. Museo de Bellas-Artes. Fantastic museum. They had lots of Degas. And a Rembrant. And air conditioning. It was a lovely museum. Again, I felt like someone was feeding my soul with the colors and shapes and paints. It's a bummer that it's such a huge museum, because after an hour or so you just get so overwhelmed with all of the art. I mean, it's a great feeling, at least for me. It makes me feel all sophistocated and cosmopolitan, but there comes a point where I just cannot look at anymore art, because I'm overloaded with all of the other pieces that I have seen. My favorite was one by Degas, it's called Deux Danses (sp?) avec Roses et Jaunes.

I love this painting. I actually like anything by Degas. I was trying to think about why I liked him so much and I think it's because he paints ballerinas. And they're always in pretty colors and they look so graceful and beautiful. Then The Doctor had to shoot down my beautiful dreams of being a ballerina that Degas painted by saying "Did you know that Degas only painted ballerinas because they were one step up from prostitutes, and the other women in his paintings are prostitutes because prostitutes were the only women he could gain access to?" Thank you, Doctor. Thank you.

I also really like van Gogh, but they only had one painting of his, and it was this pale sauce thing of a windmill/lighthouse which I was not particularly fond of. But the Rembrant and Rodin sculptures were cool. Oh, how I love art.

4. Las Madres! I don't know why I put an exclamation point, because it is not really something that I should be particularly excited about. But sort of. Las Madres is an organization founded by the mothers of the people who were "lost" during the dictatorship and the time of Los Desparacidos. The organization fights to bring about information about those who were "lost." We didn't actually see the women, with their trademark white headscarves, but if you go to the plaza at four on Thursday, you can see them. Which I hope I can do one of these days. On the free day the Doctor and her lackey and I went to the organization headquarters and I probably have not felt that intelligent in a long, long while. It was glorious. Then we shopped. And I bought the most beautiful pair of shoes I have ever seen in my life. Buenos Aires knows what's up. Oh! I had starbucks too. It will not escape me. I can now say that I have had Starbucks in three countries outside the US. Win? Who knows.

K. I Feel like this blog is sufficient, at least for now. I might update more later about Buenos Aires, But who knows.

P.s. Buenos Aires believes in air conditioning. God bless Argentina.

It's Been Forever...

Hola, estudiantes!

My name is Lauren Johnson and I am currently studying abroad in Montevideo, Uruguay. Uruguay is a small country located in South America. It is near the beach and very warm here because instead of having winter, they have summer. I was talking with my friend Sandra, a local Uruguaya, about the weather here, and this is what she told me:

Lauren: Qué calor, Sandra!
Sandra: Sí, hace mucho calor! El sol brilla muy fuerte todo el día!
Lauren: No hace viento para hacer el tiempo más fresco?
Sandra: En Montevideo hace viento todo el tiempo, pero ahora no.
Lauren: Hace llueve durante el verano?
Sandra: Tipicamente, no. Hace mucho calor por la mayoría del verano. Pero llovió mucho ayer. Que lindo la lluvia!
Lauren: Ah, si, cuando llueve y hace nublado tambien. La temperatura fuera mas fresca y no hay tanta humedad. No hay nieve aqui?
Sandra: No, no hay nieve aqui. No he visto nieve en Montevideo.

The most noticable characteristics of weather in Montevideo during the summer is the humidity. The temperature is not unbearable, going into the low 90's at the highest, but the 70 or 80% humidity makes it seem even hotter. Even during the evening, it doesn't cool off. Most of the time it is very sunny and hot, but sometimes a huge rainstorm blows through the city and soaks everything. But primarily, hace mucho calor todo el tiempo.



The native dress of the Uruguayo is very similar to the dress in the United States, especially in the summer. Hay mucha gente que lleva camisetas de algodón, o las faldas y sandalias. The primary function of the clothes are to stay cool. There isn't a huge difference between the clothes they wear in the United States and the clothes that they wear in Uruguay. However, there is a time once a year where the people in Uruguay wear something very special. Every year during the last part of January, there is a giant festival called Carnaval, where the people of Uruguay celebrate their culture in a huge parade that lasts for hours. The parade celebrates some of the history of Uruguay. The two primary constumes that are used are for Mama Vieja and El Gramillero. A man and a woman dress up in classical colonial clothes, the woman wearing un vestido muy antiguo y the man wearing un traje. They wear these to represent slave culture that the Afro-Uruguayans experienced during the colonial era. Another important dress that the Uruguayans have during this celebration is the men's clothing in the candombe group. They wear pantalones flojos y anchos, camisetas tan grandes, y chalecos de varios colores. Sometimes they wear sombreros made of straw to cover their faces. All of the drummers wear zapatos blancos con medias negros, to represent the scars from their time as slaves. The biggest accessory is their large drum, one of three different ones that makes up a Candombe group.

Rain.

At the present moment, I am sitting on my bed, with a cup of coffee, Josh Groban and my fan blasting, emailing my mom in India and my Spanish teacher here, and looking at an extensive list of the many things I have to blog about. I feel like the most legit human being ever right now. I feel like some kind of travel writer. And it's awesome. I am so glad I am here. I feel like this is what I should be doing. Minus the class. Ha. I like my classes, but they are just another thing to worry about. Well, actually, the only thing I have to worry about. That and drowning in the humidity.

I love Lady Gaga. I confess. Right now. She.is.fantastic. Some lovely housemate gave me her cds, and I am hooked. I mean, it's pop music, so it doesn't have a ton of depth or meaning or anything, but she is so cool. New music obsession. Tango, Lady Gaga, and Texas country. How is that for eclectic.

Yesterday we went to a festival for the sea goddes Yemanja. There are pics up on my facebook about it. I am basically ripping off Wikipedia when I explain it, but Yemanja is a sea goddess from the Yoruba religion that was brought over by the slaves from Africa. She is celebrated not only in Uruguay, but in Brazil, Cuba, and Haiti as well. In Africa, she originally was the goddess of the sea, and a diety of women, especially pregnant women. Because of all of the African influences that exist in South America, Brazil an Uruguay especially, these celebrations have huge promience within society. During the celebration, people take their offerings, wade far out into the atlantic ocean, leave their offerings in the sea, and walk backwards onto the shore. I saw many people doing this at the beach yesterday, offering all sorts of things, primarily food, like watermelon and canteloupe. A lot of people offered flowers as well. While I was at the beach I saw a ceremony for Yemanja, where people were ringing bells and banging drums and singing to the goddess in an aching, haunting way. As they were singing, people in the ceremony got down in the sand and kissed it in front of the alter that they had. As I was watching, it didn't hurt me until I saw a young woman prostrating herself before the sacrifice and before the man playing the drums. It was the same sort of feeling that I had when I was in India; a kind of sinking feeling, something inside me jus said "No..." and it was rather surprising how much it hurt me to see her do that. It was sort of the same way at the statue we saw when we first arrived. Before you get down to the sand there is a statue of Yemenja, and yesterday the foot of the offering was covered with flowers, fruit, cigarettes, anything that anyone could give. Also at the statue was a man with blue and white candles saying "vela vela, a voluntad a vela," which mean you could get a candle for as much as you wanted to give, like an offering. You didn't have to give any money, or you could give money for a candle. I wanted to get a candle, but then I got guilted into not buying one, which sort of upset me. I want to have a keepsake that I can hold and feel and not just look at. I don't think that by getting one I would be participating in a pagan ritual, especially if I just took the candle and I didn't give any money. Whatever Lauren. It's a candle. Pick your battles.

It was a really interesting thing to see. I had never seen anything like that before, I had always heard about it and watched Pirates of the Carribbean and the Discovery Channel, but I'd never really experienced that feel. Which now that I think about it, is a feeling of frailty and uncertainty, mixed with a vibrancy that is, in my opinion, globally unparalleled. Going even further, I could say that there is a feeling of desperation within rituals like that. Maybe it's just me, but that's how I feel. And I am not sure how I should deal with it. I don't want them to be desperate, but how do you incorporate Jesus into things like that? I never know how to do that. I don't want to destroy their culture or rituals, but I want them to know Jesus. What to do, what to do...



It is pouring rain right now. Delightful. Such a lovely break from the suffocating humidity I have experienced as of late. We got another fan in our room, Gracias a Dios, and I do not think I have slept better. I didn't want to get out of my bed because I knew that if I moved I would be hot. So I stayed in bed until the last possible second. But now it is absolutely pouring rain. Love it. Hopefully it rains all day and it's clear and beautiful for the llamadas tomorrow.

That is all. A pretty mellow blog. Enjoy it while you can because I will definitely have a lot to say in Buenos Aires. One and a half days!!

Paz, amores.

Random Ramblings.

And so begins another week en La Isla de Los Guapos. That name is the real deal, by the way. Minus it being the Isla part.

Let's see...what did I do today. Let me bore the readers with all of the lame and uninteresting things that I do.

I am literally sitting here, keys poised to pound, and nothing is coming to me. Nothing at all.

Oh, yes. I took in my laundry. Sure glad I did that. I have no clean clothes because it is hotter than the depths of hell at all times. Not only is it hot, but the levels of humidity fluctuate randomly, so we can't just count on one kind of specific heat, it varies. Sort of. It's always friggin hot. Always. I wish Uruguay would pull a Texas and just go crazy and have it snow or something. There is no air conditioning anywhere except in America Latina, and I d0n't want to walk all the way over there every time I want to be happy. I must endure the heat, like some sort of tourist martyr.

I remember the cool thing that we did! We had a tango workshop, and it was fantastic. I feel like the tango makes my soul come alive, and that is super weird, but I feel like it does. I wish I was better at it because I think that is all that I would do. Just go around the world tango-ing and sipping cortado and conversing with the porteños about the good ol' days. But really. I love tango. 3 days until Buenos Aires and our tango performance! I am so so so pumped. We got our itenerary and we are going to be very busy abejas, but it's ok. I am readyyy for some Argentina.

I feel like I am about to go on a cortado odyssey. Every place we have gone to eat I order a cortado. Why? I have no clue. But I love them a lot. Even though they are a hot coffee drink, they are flipping delicious. However, at each place I have ordered them, they are different. Once place has it in a small clear glass, the other in a small not clear glass, and then the other one in a straight up mug. So they are all different. So I decided that I am going to take pictures of them in order to show their differences, but how they are all awesome together, like a coffee sunset. Be ready for some cortado on facebook. Speaking of which, I have a picture of a cortado with me riiiight now...

Ahhh yes. What a thing of beauty it is.

I must say that if Facebook had a fanpage for public transportation, I would like it about 8 billion times. I LOVE public transportation. I think it is wonderful. I am rather a beast at it. Granted, I only take one bus. But still. I do not fear. I bus around the city like it is my job. I am rather mad that they have increased the bus fare one peso, but I think I will deal. Maybe. I bussed around the city, and on one bus their was a singing man. A lot of the time on buses people play a song and sing and then at the end everyone claps and gives them change. A lot of the time the people aren't actually horrible, and I managed to get this one guy on camera, with my super stealth (or creepy, you decide) tactics, singing. It's pretty cool. So here he is. His name is Juan. At least in my blog his name is Juan. P.s. Please ignore my hair for part of it.

Te amo, Uruguay.

P.p.s. I bought a termo and yerba today. And so it begins.

Dear Uruguay,

Please quit being so amazing. Because it quite possibly might kill me when I have to leave.
Thanks.
Love,
Lauren

This place keeps getting under my skin. In a good way. Not like a parasite. And while I absolutely love it, I absolutely hate it because I eventually will have to go back to the states. But I will not hate it, because then I will return to Texas and have in-n-out and hair products and crunchy peanut butter, but still. Uruguay.is.fantastic. I did not think I would like it this much. I really didn't. And now I am here and I am falling in love and anticipating with dread the time that will come when my heart will break. Probably break into a billion pieces that will be scattered all over Montevideo. I am figuring that it will be an experience similar to when I left India, though probably intensified a billion times over, because I will have been here longer. I hate thinking about the fact that I am leaving, I want to be in the moment. But I think I live in the moment with the realization that I am leaving, and it's not necessarily taking anything away from the experience. I think that if it was, I wouldn't hang out with Diego or Ema or try and make friends or do half of the stuff that I do. Maybe, in a bit, it will turn the motivation around and make me push harder to do as much as I can, so that it is the greatest time of my life and I can look back and be happy I made it that way.

Anyway. I haven't been in a particularly great mood as of late and I do not know why. I was completely out of it last night, and I couldn't even blog about the soccer game that we went to, even though it was incredible. And I don't even remember what all I did on Friday. I wish I could. Anyway, last night we went to a soccer game. It was epic. One of the main teams of Uruguay, Peñarol, was playing another team that nobody knows, or, seemingly cares about. It wasn't a big game, but there were plenty of people to make it fun. Not just our group, but all of the die hard peñarol fans. We didn't sit with them, we sat in another part of the stadium, but we could still see them and hear their chanting and see them waving their banners and jumping up and down. The weather could not have been more perfect. Right before dusk, the sun warming us and the stadium but not making it hot,with a breeze blowing through. I looked down into a large, impeccably green feild dotted with men in yellow and black jerseys. After they warmed up for a few minutes, the match started, and everyone went crazy. You would think that at a friendly match, people would be a little more mellow, a little less into the game. Ohh no. Someone has pulled the wool over your eyes if you think that is the case. Because these peñarol fans are still crazy. I probably heard more Spanish expletives in two hours than I have in my whole Spanish career combined. These people love their fútbol. I wish with all my heart that I could understand why Latinos love fútbol so much, but alas, I do not think I ever will. I will try and try and try, but I don't think that I will ever love it as much as the peole here in Uruguay, or Argentina, or Honduras, or anywhere else. And that's ok, but it is just fascinating to see how people get so keyed up over fútbol. It runs through their veins. Save for a few random people I know from Latin American that do not like fútbol, but most of them live for the game. I guess that you could say when I was there I experienced the feeling, but I don't completely understand it. It was wonderful to watch, and I can only imagine the fervor that takes place at World Cup, if this is just a minor game. New life goal: Get to World Cup.

The best part was when peñarol scored a goal at the end. By that time, I had been so immersed in Latin sports culture that I was doing some of the hand motions that they were at the end when peñarol would be so close to making a goal, and then miss it. Or when the other team would get so close, and then miss it. Then, at the end, when one of the players scored a goal, the stadium erupted. It was kind of like a dragon was woken up. Everyone, including myself, was on their feet, cheering and screaming and high-fiving and hugging. The stadium literally crackled with excitement. It was on of the coolest experiences ever. I cannot even imagine being at a world cup or rival game and having your team score a goal. That might be slightly ridiculous. You might not have eardrums after that.

Point is: the game was fantastic.

After the game, I apparently lost my sense of sight, because I tripped on a block of cement in the middle of the sidewalk and made my toe all oozy and bloody. First injury ftw. I put ice on it and cleaned it and it looked like nothing happened. I have a defense system like a werewolf.

Friday night we went out to dinner in Ciudad Vieja. We got dressed up an went to some restaurant on some street. I don't remember either of the names. What a touristy thing to do. Anyway, it was so much fun. I went with the Doctor and some other girls and we had a wonderful time. It was quite wonderful because I felt like there was an appropriate balance of utter absurdity and hilariousness combined with some thoughtfulness. Our conversations ranged from kidnapping babies in Paraguay, to provocative bus adds, to politics (without the close-minded psycho emotional-ness that often comes with politics). Giggling about the waiter and the cortado at the end of the meal put the icing on the cake. I hope we can do that more often.

I found a wonderful little store by the Restaurant with No Name. It had a bag with Michael Jackson's face on it. I almost bought it on an impluse buy. Almost. I saved myself 35 dollars for when we got to BsAs. I pretty much cannot wait to go there. I am counting down the days!

I forgot to mention that at Carnaval I made friends. Because it's what you do. Apparently. They were girls my age, and one of their grandmas was there. People here are so nice. I am going to befriend the whole of Uruguay. Everyone will be my friend. Take that, facebook. I have a picture of the girls and me somewhere, I'll post it when I find it.

I seem to be spending a lot of time in cafés. Not that I mind, but I find that I frequent them a lot. I think it is because I have a mild cortado addiction. Cortado is God's gift to man. If you think I am jesting with you, I am not. At all. Cortado is incredibleee. So incredible that it is featured as the picture on the right of my blog. It is that good. I could drink it every day. Except that would mean I would have to go to a café every day. Hm. I might know of one.

The hamburger people still think I'm crazy! I went today to get a burger and see if I could get something I wanted, but I could not order my hamburguesa quesolechugamaizketchup because that is not what it comes with. Why, Lucas, why?! I just want four things! What is so wrong with that?! I will pay you extra! An extra dollar for your freaking trouble! Even though it is not hard to put lettuce, cheese, ketchup, and corn between two pieces of bread!!!

Ps. I bought a maté mug.
P.p.s. I love my life.