Picture time!!!

So I'm doing wonderfully, blah blah blah. I'm hanging out with that American Jay tomorrow night. May try to get a little sum'n sum'n depending on how it goes. I've pretty much overcome my loneliness for the time being because I've been realizing how much this city has to offer, and how much is just waiting to be discovered. Pretty much I'm falling in love with Buenos Aires, and it's becoming my luvah. I found this wonderful park the other day that kind of reminded me of Central Park. It was so lovely. I sat there and read for a while. My goal foor today is to figure out how laundromats work here.... Jesus, everything is so confusing, and it doesn't help that somehow my Spanish has reverted to the level of a 4th grade kid...with Down's Syndrome.

The first picture is the view from my apartment, showing how fucking sick my neighborhood is. The next is the tiiiiiny studio I'm living in. It's small, but, you know, it gives me what I need juuuuust right. The last picture is this little plaza where I sat in the sun and read for about an hour, but then I realized that I was incredibly sunburned and left (haha the most sunburned part of my body is my scalp!).

Well, that's about it for now....

Fuck

Today's been the hardest day so far. Whereas before, my loneliness was actually a little entertaining and I'd laugh at myself about it, recognizing my loneliness, letting the emotion flood over me, and then letting it disappear when I encountered something inspiring, something that distracted me, the loneliness I encountered today wasn't the breath-of-fresh-air-solitude-and-independence loneliness, but more of a pathetic-self-pitying brand, where my heart would race at the slightest bit of attention from a stranger. With a few important exceptions, today was definitely my hardest day. Part of it is recognizing that I need to take a risk and strike up random conversations, but it seems so impossible when the person's language is so different. Argentine Spanish is REALLY difficult to understand.

On the positive side, I went to the most amazing bookstore of my life today. It's an old theater that they converted into a bookstore. Where the stage once was, there's a cafe. Where the orchestra level was, there are columns and columns of books. And where the balcony seating was, they turned it into a reading room. Things like this make me think that Argentinians are naturally innovative, and the way that they act, it makes me think sometimes that they just get something we don't. BA reminds me a lot of New York, but the people are patient, accomodating, and straightforward. There's always a single-file line going down the street for people waiting to get on the bus. Little things like that make me think that people in this city just sort of have their shit together. Clearly this isn't the case, though, because there are more therapists per capita in BA than in any other city, something like 1 therapist for every 30 people. Hahah

Anyways, waaahhh I have no friends. I'm going to go smoke another cigarette.

HAHAH WHAT A DAY

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Second Day

So my rose-colored glasses were DEFINITELY removed by my second day, and I got past completely romanticizing this whole experience as the reality set in: that I was going to be alone for a month, in a place where I don't understand what the fuck is going on, what the fuck people are saying, what the fuck I should do or not do, WHATTHEFUCK. I realized that, even three days into this experience (I'm counting my first whole day of travelling alone), I've never felt so alone in my entire life. I know that sounds tragic, and it's really not, because I don't mean it in a way that most people would interpret it. What I've learned from my vast four days of experience here is that feeling alone isn't necessarily a bad thing (because you are truly free). On the other hand, it isn't necessarily good either (because you're fucking lonely, horny, and constantly second guessing yourself). But it is exciting and new and, yeah I kind of feel like I've emerged out of some womb and everything's different. I kind of want to cry, but not really, because I'm constantly laughing at myself and at the fact that I'm alone in a city for a month, which is admirable in theory, kind of retarded in practice.

I ended up going back to Palermo my second day because I realized that this place made me feel calm. It kind of felt like Greenwhich Village, and parts of San Francisco, and even a few parts of Ithaca. I then decided to go to Recoleta Cemetary because it's not that far from where I was. This is a huge cemetary in the city where the tombs of some of the most important people in Argentine history are. Evita's tomb is always the biggest seller. So I showed up and immediately wished that I hadn't, being surrounded by fat, sweaty American tourists, cameras clicking, fannypacks swinging. The graves were actually really beautiful, but I ended up getting really frustrated because after staring at many of the inscriptions, I noticed a trend: nearly all of them were not people who impacted history or were even that important, they were doctors, CEOs of businesses, people who had enough money to go for the largest grave in the most prime cemetary real estate. When I realized that, I then noticed how gaudy many of the tombs were, and I started to see this less as memorializing the dead and more as a pissing contest, some type of one-upmanship over who can have the largest tomb. It started to irritate me, but then I got over it, when I realized that there were dozens of stray cats everywhere I looked, cats sleeping on graves, in tombs, foraging for mice, it was really funny. I approached one tomb with a cat INSIDE of it, and it kind of looked dead until I meowed and it put its head up and followed me around. I kept on petting it, realizing that I could very well get fleas...or rabies...or FIV.

I ended up walking to MALBA (The Museum of Latin American Art), which took SO LONG to get to, but was really worth it because it was so interesting and thought-provoking and, in one artist's case, really moving. And then I walked through the park, checked out the street I'll be living on when my study abroad program starts (it looks like the Upper East Side), and stopped for a cafecito. The coffee here is interesting. It's more like a mini-latte, but oh my god it's SO tasty.

Later that evening I ended up checking out a gay bar, because I've been having a really difficult time reading the men here. I still am. I had heard that Buenos Aires men (called Portenos) were supposed to be the cockiest, most forward people on the planet, but they seem really aloof to me. Regardless, this is a city full of models. I swear to God, the men and the women here. It makes me feel like a troll.

The gay bar was really fun, but it was more of a reconnaisance (sp?) mission than anything else. I had my binocculars, my safari hat, and a notepad, recording the mating habits of the Argentine homosexual. Conclusion: they travel in herds, most are single, all are beautiful. I ended up leaving and took a cab home.

Primera Semana

Dude what a fucking trip! Today (January 28) is my fourth day in Buenos Aires, and it's been SOOOOO overwhelming, wonderful, scary, etc. etc. etc.

I flew out Wednesay night and was travelling for 22 straight hours! It was kind of terrible. The only good thing is that, I've pretty much turned 21 already (even though my birthday's in June) because I can drink everywhere. First thing I did when I got off in El Salvador for a layover: smoked a ciggie, drank a scotch on the rocks, and read the New Yorker (in case you didn't realize: I've turned into a 50 year old New Yorker overnight). I got into Buenos Aires at 6 AM and ended up crashing at a hostel my first night. I was intially planning on staying there longer, but I'm glad I didn't. It was kind of nasty and the toilet didn't work (when I tried to flush it shot water onto the wall!)

The next day I caught a cab to the apartment I'm renting for the month before my study abroad program starts, and the cab driver was unbelievable! He was this bald guy who was telling me about how he's a manager for a rock band in Buenos Aires. Their name is Engranaje, which is Spanish for "Gear" and when I asked him why, his answer: "Because our band, the rhythm is the gear that makes the machine we call life run." hahah check out the website: http://www.engranajerock.com.ar/

When I showed up at my apartment, it was a nice studio apartment in an area of the city called San Telmo, which is the historic district. I like it because it's really beautiful and colonial, with winding cobblestone streeets, buildings with ornate old designs, bay windows, balconies, etc., but it's also kind of gritty and dirty and feels like a combination of Brooklyn and Italy. What's kind of funny with this area is that it's a little ghetto, but it's also a little gay, and when I realized that, I had no clue if the men who intensely stared me down as I walked past them wanted to take my wallet or my virginity (haha kidding!).

I met my landlord, a funny, slightly obnoxious woman named Susana, who took my rent money and security deposit, made me sign a lease, and then led me through the apartment. It's really tiny, and I really like it. My bathroom has a bidet (is that how it's spelled?), which kind of sketched me out at first, but I really like it now. Cleans that shit right up!

After she left, I unpacked, took a shower, went outside, and got lost in a matter of minutes. When I found where I was, I walked to the Plaza de Mayo (the center of town, a really beautiful plaza), where I had a cafecito, and mistakenly ordered something nasty to eat. I then walked to the shopping district, which I wasn't into because it reminded me of how fucking irritating 7th Ave. in Manhattan can be. Then I took a subte (subway) train to Palermo.

The subway is so easy. There are only five lines, and each ride costs 30 cents!!! Did I mention how cheap things are here? Pack of cigarettes=$1.50!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, Palermo. It's a really trendy, chic area with lots of boutiques, galleries, cafes, and the most beautiful people I've ever seen in my life. No joke, I'd say half the men and women in this city are models, and the other half are kind of greasy, with rat-tails and sweaty bangs. I ended up walking all the way down the main street in Palermo (Avenida Santa Fe), which is about two miles long and I had such bad blisters when I got home. I was still really jet lagged so I passed out at 8 PM, like a loser.