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.