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.

Dar Cuenta

Another Saturday in Montevideo.

I feel like everyone should be awake, it's 10 freaking 30. The day is dwindling, folks. Get up and live it.

I am supposed to be going to the beach today, to become a Greek goddess, but the person I am waiting for is still slumbering. I do not know if I can tolerate such sloth-like behavior from a group. I am appalled.

I feel like I have not posted anything for forever, when in reality it's only been a few days. So much has gone on and I am so exhausted that I haven't had time to post an excessive blog, like I usually do. I suppose I have time because of freaking sleeping beauty over thurr.


Thursday was the Carnaval Parade. And it was fantastic. I don't really know how to properly describe it, because it was so cool but I shall try. The parade did not start until around 9, even though it was supposed to have started at 8:30, and we left at 7:30. We sat right on the street, on hard green benches that were feet away from the acts that strutted and sauntered and sang their way down 18 de Julio. These benches lined the whole of 18 de Julio, which is one of the main streets in Montevideo. After we had been sitting for a while and I had embarrased myself in front of a very rude and attractive police officer, I continued to make a fool of myself by buying about 5 pounds of paper confetti and sprinkling it on everyone for about an hour. There is paper everywhere, still. I consider that a success in my book, but others would say otherwise. It was funny how many people wanted paper and didn't buy it themselves, it was 50 cents for two big bags of it. Needless to say, there were hills of paper pieces around us before the carnaval started. Whatever. It's carnaval. No one else has to freaking get their party on. But I did. Totally partied.
Then the floats and the groups came by. There was a wonderful float made out of recycled bottles, and I know that when I say that it sounds incredibly strange, but it was really neat. There were a few floats, and there were the queens of carnaval and candombe and salsa, that smiled and waved in sparkly dresses. There were also acts of about 9 or 10 people dressed up with elaborate costumes that looked like they were from waybackwhen that came around and danced and smiled and painted our faces and things like that. There was a group of gladiators, and a group of men in very sparkly suits that sang for us. It was lovely. My favorite, however, was the drummers. We learned all about them in our candombe class, and how there are different types of drums that make different sounds, and what their constumes signify. Candombe was originated from the Afro-Uruguayans back in the 17th century. Africans were brought to south America as slaves, and in order to preserve some of their culture, they continued to play drums and have a sort of festival when they didn't have work. They would take some of their old masters clothes and bust out their drums, and bam. Candombe. Candombe is an integral part of Uruguayan culture and is commemorated every year in Carnaval. The drummers that walk down the street wear black with white shoes that tie all the way up their legs, to represent the scars. In the drumline, each drummer takes a short, calculated step, the represent the chains that were worn on their feet. Like jazz, the candome drummers have no written music, but play together by listening to each other and playing accordingly. I do not remember why, but they play with one drumstick and one hand. Their drumbeats are some of the coolest things I have ever heard, as they walked by me the rhythms permeated everything around us. It was amazing. Click this link to see a video, if you wish. This is from this year's Carnaval.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9XMLpWmzPE

Sorry About That.

So, yesterday I was in an absolutely horrible mood. We are talking horrid. So bad that I could not even blog. Which is saying something, because I absolutely love to blog. I get made fun of in the house because of my affinity for blogging. Thus, I was in very terrible mood indeed.

Anyway.

I posted some pictures. Just two. From the museum of indigenous art because they were interesting pictures. The funny thing is, though, that neither of the pictures I posted were of indigenous art. They were from the super random modern art exhibit that was on the third floor of the building. They had some very strange things, but some pretty cool things, like the cupcakes in a sheep pen. I really liked that. Because, duh, it's cupcakes and duh, I'm a girl. It's a match made in heaven. So that was cool. The actual indigenous art was pretty interesting too. I went into the museum without the greatest attitude, and I was thinking that I was not going to enjoy it at all, and that it was going to be boring and stupid and lame and whatever. And it was fascinating. But then again I am a huge history nerd and I get sucked in when people of the past are mentioned. There are a few pics on my facebook of some of the artifacts that were left, like a canoe and stone arrowheads and all sorts of things. The thing that I thought was most interesting was the indian tribe that sacrificed people and ate them. Yea. Definitely wrote some facts down about that. Yeah, it's gross. But come on. And it's not like they were cannibals. They did not periodically eat people for nourishment. It was a religious ritual; the leader of the tribe would always pick the enemie's strongest warrior or someone like that, and then they would ceremonially sacrifice him and eat him, in order to internalize the strength he possessed.

Yea. I listened. Yea. I'm a nerd.

I really did enjoy it. I talked with our tour guide, Luis, who several people on the excursion were kind of eyeing. He seemed like a pretty cool guy. We talked in Spanish. He said I was good at it. Win. But he really was informative and nice to us with our questions and everything. Plus it was hotter than the dickens throughout the whole building, so we all were sweating and fanning ourselves with notebooks in the typical tourist fashion. We saw some other Americans, and they started speaking English and I almost cried with joy. It is so wonderful to hear someone else speak English other than the people that I am with constantly. It was rather glorious, but they were leaving. Sad. Then some people from the group and I ended up at a café down the street, where I got a Cortado. Which is just coffee and milk, but it is like a work of art. And it is sooo delicious. They are a bit expensive, but oh well. I get them whenever I go to a café and try and act all cool. I got a killer picture out of it, i.e. my facebook profile and the picture on the right. So that was epic.

Day 2 out of 2 that murders my self-esteem. My first class was actually pretty good, thought I feel confused a lot, and we tend to get off topic more often than not. We ended up on conspiracy theories for about 10 hours before we got back on track. And those conspiracies really make me think. I mean, I don't automatically buy into a lot of them, but it makes me step back and question how great America is. It makes me step back and question the decisions that were made regarding war and treatment of other countries and terrorism and all of that. It's sort of painful to come to the realization that there are things wrong with the country. And I think that I am a bit slow on the draw regarding this realization, but I guess I've know for a while, I have just been denying it. And it is painful to realize that as a US citizen, I am going to have to come to terms with if I think that things that have happened are ok. And if not, then what? What do I do? This world is not is not a simple as people make it out to be. There is entirely too much to be thought through, and honestly, I am afraid to do it. I might realize that there are beliefs I have held onto for so long that I might have to give up because I don't see that they are right anymore. Or just be sad that I have to lose the Pollyanna factor in how I see a lot of the world. But I don't have to, necessarily. I could just choose to ignore it, and live as I always have, taking things at face value and not looking into them and thinking them through, which is a lot easier, or wrestle with a lot of the things that I have been learning about as of late. I don't know what it's gonna be. And that is scary too.

The seconds part of the day was truly dedicated to murdering my self-esteem. I am hating Spanish as of right now. A lot. I cannot understand it. And everyone speaks it. And I spend about 13 hours a week sitting in a class thinking 'I have taken Spanish for 8 years and this is the culmination. THIS is the culmination?!?!' I get so frustrated. At this class at University makes me nutsss. First, it's hot and I spend about and hour of it trying not to faint from heat exhaustion. Secondly, I don't know what is going on. She talked for an hour and I had a vague idea of what was happening. Third, there was a baby spider on my desk, and, because I have an affinity for spiders, I spend about 15 minutes watching him. He was a very comical spider. Fourth, our teacher is probably the worst teacher I have ever had in regards to writing notes on the board. She will write a few points, and then draw arrows and add 13 things to the list, and then add more around it. My notes look like a Pollack on a bad day. Sooo that is how things are going on the Spanish front. My roomate and I decided that we were going to have good attitudes, irrespective of how hard it is right now, it's going to get better, and we will understand everything in a few weeks. So, good attitude it is.

Another thing. Paper can work as an eraser. Fact.

I recently have been obsessed with the poet Rilke. Which is funny, considering I am in Latin American and there a lot of great poets down here. So that's funny.

Carnaval tonight! Look for pictures!
:)

Untitled.

Flipping exhausted. Short blog.

Cupcakes in a sheep pen.
This was at the museum with indigenous artifacts.
How it connects? I do not know

It is currently 1:30 in the morning.
And I cannot sleep.
So what do I do?
Blog.
Of course.
This could get out of hand.



I would like to direct your attention to the picture below.This is Lucas. I do not know if this is the one on my street.
But it is a Lucas. A hamburger place where you can get wicked cheap burgers. I think the most expensive thing on the menu is 55 pesos.
Which is about 2 American dollars.
And it's freaking good.

Needless to say many of my friends and I frequent this stand and stands like it all over Montevideo.
However, there is a small dilemma.

The people that work there think that I am on crack.

Why?
Beats me.

When you order a hamburger it can come with a bunch of things. You can get a hamburg comun, which is just mayo, ketchup, and mustard, or you can get a hamburg completa with cebollas, fritas, acietunas, morron, tomate, mayonesa, y algo asi.

However, when I order, I want neither of those. I would simply like some cheese, lettuce, ketchup, and corn. I know, it's lame, and I know it is not incorporating the culture and everything, but I just don't like those peppers. I am sorry.

On Sunday I asked Ema if I could order anything I wanted on my hamburger. And he told me I could. So, I figure I can just tell them what I want, and they'll just put in on there. Uruguayans are nice people, right? No big, they'll just put the stuff between the bun and I'll give 'em their dollar and a half, and it's a win win situation.

Oh, if only it were that simple.

I went there tonight on my way back from the park and I asked for the stuff on my burger, and the girl was giving me all sorts of dirty looks. Why? Who knows?! Not me. I was speaking Spanish, normal Spanish, not the kind where people think they know how to speak and yell out the words they want to say. Not like YO QUIERO UN HAMBURGUESA CON LECHUGA Y KAYYYYSOOOOO.

No. None of that.
I simply asked for lechuga, maiz, queso, and ketchup.
And this chick looked at me like I asked her to grill a kitten. She kept looking back at the other worker and asking if what I wanted was ok. Why wouldn't it be ok? You still get your 2 dollars, foolish!

Really. How hard is it to put those things in a hamburger.
I was nice about it. I didn't demand me some corn.
I even asked if it was ok.

But all I recieved was looks of disgust. And a hamburger that was not made with love. But with disdain.

Whatever. It was still good. Cheese, lettuce, ketchup, and corn are a dynamic combo.

Take that, angry grill girl.

Uggggghhhhhh.

I think I shall start this blog out by complaining about everything that I can possibly complain about, even if it is not true and I am just being psycho. Then I will feel better and manage to get on with my life and this experience.

1. I put my keyboard in Spanish and I am having quite a time figuring it out. I know this is an element completely within my control, so I should not be complaining about it, but it is still difficult to deal with. I feel like if I ever get to writing excessive essays in Spanish I want to have tildes and accents and all of that when I write, instead of faking it or just looking like a total moron when I am trying to type mañana or maté or something. I feel like once I figure out where everything is, I will be ok, but for now it is really frustrating to type a question mark and end up typing _. And, since I ask a ton of questions, I look even more like a retard because all I do is type _ when I try and ask questions. And it takes me about 9 hours to write a smiley face. I need to just write myself a post-it note to remind myself where things are. It will be ok. Also, I cannot type contractions. I might be able to once I figure out where everything is. But for now, please deal with my exponentially formal style.

2. I am officialy hating on the Spanish language as of late. First of all, my internet is in Spanish. Come on, Uruguay, I do not know spanish that well. I cannot read websites in Spanish. I can barely read pamphlets in Spanish, let alone entire websites. I do not know what anything means! It makes me want to cry. Second, I have about a billion hours of Spanish on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which basically makes me want to cry. I have an hour and a half Spanish Conversation class, and then after that, I have a literature class. All in Spanish. THERE IS NO ENGLISH. I REPEAT, NO ENGLISH. It is super tragic. The class in itself is not super difficult, but there is no English! My native tongue got kicked out on its butt, into the halways of the deserted University. I know he is very lonely out there, but my teacher will not let him in. Sorry, English.

Plus. NO one speaks it! Except the people in Casa. I have to go out there and get my Spanish on when all I want to do is talk in English, and my English is weird because I say lots of weird crap that will not translate into Spanish, or into anything, for that matter. So, when I do speak, it is a weird translation of my random idiosyncratic English. So I make no sense half the time. I feel as though I am in a catch-22; no one understands me in English or in Spanish. Sad day. I might just become a mime.

3. I feel like a moron in most of my classes. Along with that Spanish rant above, I feel like I am just dumb. It is as if everyone has something correct or interesting to say but me. And it is frustrating. Because I feel like I am moderately intelligent. Yet when I am in class, no es el caso. And in my freaking Latin American studies class, I read the freakin chapter twice. TWICE. And I still did poorly on a quiz. I do not know if that makes you angry, but it makes me angry. Because, really...I read the thing twice. Whatever. I am beasting that next quiz. Beasting it with a capital B. Which was a capital B, in that case, because it started the sentence. Needless to say I am slightly stressed out and overwhelmed with all of the reading and work that I have to do.

4. Oh, yea. It is basically hotter than the Dickens here. When we went into the classroom today I thought I was going to melt away until someone decided to open the windows. It was harrowing. I thought I was going to die. It is lovely in the late afternoon and the evening, but 11-2 is basically horrible. Just saying.

5. I have an itch I can't scratch. Not a literal one, but I want to go do something, but I do not know what or how or when, but I know I want to do something. I do not know if it is me getting pushed out of my comfort zone because I am desiring my own sense of "normalcy" that I had at home (Texas and California), and now I'm sort of afraid I will never be able to achieve that. Maybe I will when Uruguay becomes my home. That is a scary thought. Because I will eventually be leaving and I feel like a huge part of my heart will get ripped out. And that ish hurts. A lot. But really. I want to scratch this non-literal itch.

yessss I just found the apostrophe button! Winnnn.

I think that's all I really have to complain about. Now for the good stuff:

1. I finally turned in those blasted art papers. Describing my feelings and all sorts of nonsense. Who wants to talk about feelings? Not me. Because I lack emotion of any kind.
But really. They're pretty bad. I have a terribly time articulating how a piece of art makes me feel. I can feel, but I cannot write how I feel well. At least not well.

2. Day 1 out of two days of torture are done. Win. Tomorrow I don't have class until three. And class means I am going to a museum. Double win.

3. We had a Candombe workshop yesterday. So. Awesome. It's a super fun dance. It is relatively easy to do, and it was absolutely hysterical to see everyone dance like old women and old men. I literally fell over several times from laughter. If all the rest of y'all could see it...
I wish I could explain Candombe better. It is basically an African-Uruguayan tradition that was created by slaves from back in the day. They use three types of drums and don't read music, each of the drum players just go off of one aother and listen to the different sounds of the drums and if their tones and keys change. From what I have seen of it it looks fascinating. I really cannot describe a lot of this stuff very well, but I will be able to give a full report after the parade on Thursaday. I am terribly excited for it. There will be lots of pictures and maybe even a video if I can manage to get a good enough one. Drums are probably one of my favorite things in this entire universe. Besides owls. And Greek Yogurt.

K. This is too long. I might post more later. I have lots of thoughts swirling around in my brain. Sort of like tie-dye. Minus the weirdo hippie implications.

paz.

Please Pardon My Fervor

I apologize for my psychosis regarding our feathered friends.
But come on. Baby owl?

Sickk.

And I mean that in the best possible way.

I said that I had some epic things to report from yesterday. I suppose that is true.

After church Ema, Diego, and three girls I had not met before went to the Feria. Because it's apparently what we do. I think the Feria is so cool. I love open air markets, and you can buy anything and everything. They have wagons that just sell cheese, and tables upon tables of fruit and vegetables, honey stands, and in between each of those stands you can buy watches, video games (bootleg?), t-shirts, shoes, maté. And, as you can see from my fervor, you can buy most types of mammals. Reptiles too. And fish. And it's all cheap. I bet my precious baby owl was 3 or 4 dollars, my gatito 2. So it's awesome. And it's not far from where we live. Ema and Diego always take us and it's fun just to hang out. Except yesterday was a terrible Spanish day. Epic fail sauce all around. I couldn't order a hamburger to save my life, and then with Diego and Ema, any spanish I ever learned fell out of my brain. It basically disappaeared. Freaking annoying. And discouraging. I feel like this is the one thing that I am going to be hard on myself in, because there are a lot of ways to improve myself rapidly, but it's not happening. I need to take those opportunities and think through the Spanish and go over my vocab. I know how to do better. And I need to do better so that I can stop whining to myself about it. But it was the weirdest thing. The Spanish just didn't work. But then, a little bit later when we were all sitting outside talking, I felt mildly proficient again. Strange things. Then someone and I decided to try to take a bus to the mall. And like I think I said before, epic fail. Epiccc fail. We ended up getting off too soon or something, and we had to walk a billion miles uphil to find it. Which we did. And it was good. That was the kind of adventure I was itching for, and I was utterly content in the taxi on the way back, proud that I could figure it out and stoked on the fact that I can call a taxi without fear and that I had some kind of grasp of the city. It's a super cool feeling and I'm enjoying it a lot.

As I think about the Uruguayans I meet I realize that they are some of the nicest people ever. Not just like fake nice and not just polite. They are really nice, kind, caring people. We were talking about hospitality in chapel and it helped me realize that the Uruguayans are so hospitable, all of the time. Even if you're in a nonpersonal setting, people are still really nice. When you go into stores, you never feel like you are being an inconvenience or that weird feeling you get when some store workers make you feel like they are doing you a huge favor. They let you, and even encourage you, to go through the store and figure out what you like and don't like. Maybe it's just a ploy to make you buy stuff, but still. Either they're doing a better job of faking niceness in stores than in the U.S., or the are actually just really nice. Even at Plaza Independencia, the people selling antiques are friendly and aren't finicky about their stuff. Now that I write that I realize it's becase they wants thems some monies, but maybe it's not. Their attitudes are similar to other Uruguayans that I don't try and buy things from.

I also feel like extreme hospitality is standard outside of the Western world. The United States and the European countries I have visited pale in comparison the the graciousness that has recieved me in Asia or Africa. Even as I think about the way I was treated in India so long ago humbles me. Or how my American 'I can do anything' mentality came to a screeching halt as I was given water by a woman in Tsau when I didn't any or the means to find any. People outside the US have a much better understanding of hospitality and graciousness. It is something I want to learn how to implement when with wisdom whenever I have a house. Who knows when that will be.

I was again surprised at the sensitivity of myself here. All of the lack of distraction has given my heart the ability to feel more. I got really upset when I was looking at pictures of Haiti, and when someone shared a prayer request at chapel, it made my heart hurt. Which it normally doesn't, or at least not that poignatly. And, hello. my preicious baby owl. Shed some freaking tears for that. Almost. Anyway. Loving the feeling. I'm loving feeling for something.

paz. para ahora.