They have rain in Buenos Aires.

     I have been asked a lot recently if they have this or that in Buenos Aires and for the most part all my responses have been yes. It reminds me quite a bit of the multiple people who I met in Boston who, after discovering that I was from OrYgon, asked me if we used covered wagons and if we had electricity. My response was that on Tuesdays and Thursdays I rode my pig to school, the other days we "carpooled" in the covered wagon. I haven't seen too many covered wagons, but they do have a brilliantly laid out public transportation and one heck of a lot of traffic, which they call transito. It's is actually pretty bad depending on the time of day, and when taking the bus sometimes it makes more sense just to get off and walk. The Subte or Subway here is quick and efficient and often packed like sardines, but keep a hand on your bag and it is the fastest mode of transportation around the city. Apart from the occasional being packed like a fish, the Subte can also be sweltering hot. A few days ago I walked outside after class and was pelted by cold air now that the weather is changing, walked across the street and down the stairs of the D line. I left the darkness of the night and was completely engulfed by the light of the underground, I felt as if every step brought be closer to Inferno as a wind tunnel of heat pulsed out of the Subte. Lucky for me, my house is only two stops away.

Random picture that I didn´t write about in this blog. St. Patrick´s Day, which they have only been celebrating here for six years, was out of control, so Sarah, fom the program, and I decided to duck into a "calmer" bar and chat with some Spaniards we met. I had forgotten what Spanish without all the slang and accent really sounds like, it was actually quite refreshing to hear.

     

     I have not yet been asked if they have rain, but I can confirm by looking out the window behind me as I sit in the living room sipping coffee, that they do indeed have this phenomenon called rain. They treat it differently here than in Portland, and for all you web footed Oregonians out there, you may have also been surprised, as I was today, by how many people use umbrellas here. At home when I look out the window (I don't know why I even bother to look) and see that once again it is raining, I grab my Northface shell and walk out the door. I did that today and no doubt marked myself as someone not from here as I continued calmly in the misty rain while my fellow commuters walked briskly under the shelter of their umbrellas. It does make a lot more sense to give in and buy an umbrella...we will see how long my Oregon pride lasts.

    Speaking of Oregon pride, one of my favorite bands, Pink Martini came to Buenos Aires last Saturday to play in the Fall Music Festival at the Buenos Aires Lawn Tennis Club and of course I had to go. Kevin Johansen, who was actually born in Alaska but has lived here for most of his life opened for them and got the crowd warmed up. Once again, like at La Bomba de Tiempo it was hard not to move, and I have decided that Argentineans like to dance; they like to dance and are always looking for a good time. Actually, I don't think that they even have to look, or even try, they can just naturally postpone stress and planning, and can relax and let loose. That is the general feeling I get anyway.

Kevin Johansen

     Lena, who is also from Alaska, graciously tagged along and got a good laugh out of me singing along to every song they played. We had arrived early and were in general seating, so by the time Pink Martini started playing we were located dead center about five people away from the stage. I think China Forbes must have thought I was some crazy fan of theirs because a.) we definitely, at multiple points in the show, watched each other sing, and b.) most of their songs are in different languages so I probably looked hideous as I tried to pronounce Turkish, French, Japanese, etc. Also, I have now decided, after reflecting on all the concerts I have been to, that it is worth it to either pay for the good seats up close, or if general seating is an option, go for it and get there early. The concert experience isn't even comparable when you can see the performer's eyes and the expressions on their faces without needing a pair of hawkeyed binoculars. The concert was a great taste of home, I felt like I was in my living room, but instead of preparing to sit down and relax with some wine and cheese by the fireplace, my night was just starting.

Pink Martini

    We exited the concert having no idea how to get to our next destination. Typical. We had options of a train bus combination, the bus, or a taxi. We settled on the latter which took us directly to the birthday gathering of Julian, one of the Villa Gesell crew. We enjoyed ourselves as we chatted with all of his friends. It eventually turned into more of me and Lena sitting on a bench at the table while the semi circle of friends focused intently on every word that left our mouths as we answered their questions about the US, how we liked Argentina, where we were living, how one can acquire a visa to study at Berklee College of Music, etc. Eventually after everyone had left, the eight of us who had gone camping to Gualeguaychu, headed out of the city to Alan's country home. It was so nice to escape the craziness of this jungle of cement and actually be able to fall asleep to the frog orchestra at night and wake up to the birds in the morning.  We played some quality four on four soccer, or as they say here, and I think makes so much more sense because you actually do use your feet, futbol. The team I was on lost, but the mosquitoes once again kept me distracted from the defeat, I have a few more bites to show off. 

    Great company, fantastic food, open country, and moving music made for yet again, a fantastic weekend in la Argentina.