But first a brief update (if anyone is actually reading this?):
I had a wonderful last week by myself. My Valentine's Day was quite eventful: Buenos Aires and I woke up to a very rough start and I was really fed up with some of the shit he's been putting me through. I went to the laundromat and, upon realizing that my clothing wouldn't be ready until the next day (the way laundromats work here is that you pay people a teensy bit of money (about 3 bucks or less) to wash, dry, and fold your clothes for you, usually within a day or less), I realized I had absolutely no clean underwear or socks. The adventure began there. I took the subway to an area of the city where you can get pretty much anything dirt cheap, bought some legit BA underwear and socks for, like, 2 bucks total, changed in a McDonald's and then tried to find a bus to find a really cool clothing store where I was planning on giving myself a little Valentine's Day present. But my fucking asshole of a boyfriend Buenos Aires just wouldn't let me find the right bus. The bus guide made absolutely no sense, I got on a bus going the wrong direction, it was about 95 degrees outside, a stranger asked me for a sip of Coke and then chugged the rest of the bottle, it was a rough day to say the least. But, like the good lover he is, Buenos Aires made it up to me and helped me find the right bus, find the clothing store, and buy the sickest T-shirt I've ever seen (it's a little too hip for me, actually). I went to a club later that night and met a cool guy from Brazil, and he and I decided to be each other's wingmen until he left to go back home in a few days. We went to a club, and, since I've been growing some balls I approached three different guys to introduce myself and was rejected three times in a row (the funniest was one guy: my friend walks over to him and his friend and says, "Hey, if I dance with you, will your friend dance with mine?" The guy turned, looked at me, and said, "No" plain and simple. Haha Happy Fucking Valentine's Day, cabron!).
The next day I got a membership at a gym because, hey why not? It's cheap and I'm going to have a lot of free-time. I went out with my Brazilian friend again that night, met a hot little rugby guy named Guido (haha, he is not a Guido though.), made out for a few hours, and went home. Had a low-key day that Saturday and Sunday, reading, relaxing, not spending money. And then this morning I left my apartment for good. It was actually pretty sad leaving it, knowing I was going to be living with an old widow (pretty much a guaranteed cockblock) and would probably lose my limitless freedom I had had.
With my 1203948710259861 lb. bag, this morning I left my apartment, chilled in a park for a few hours and then went to the brief orientation. Afterward, a few of the students and I decided to get lunch, and I made SUCH a bad first impression: I've been alone for so long I've pretty much forgotten how to converse like a normal person and made them all think I'm crazy or coked-up or something. I'm exaggerating a little bit, because I did hit it off with a few people, mostly New Yorkers, and I made a few friends (tomorrow morning I'm going to meet everyone in my program, all 150 of them. Jesus!). Then I went to move in to my host apartment.
I found the neighborhood and it's so lovely. The botanical gardens are literally a block down from me, it's quiet, it's clean, and there are trees everywhere. I got so used to life in my old apartment (with a bar downstairs and fucking drunkies stumbling home yelling the Pink Panther theme song at 4 in the morning) that I almost forgot how wonderful it is to have some peace and quiet. My host mother is an ancient widow named Beba. She's probably 70, with leathery skin, dyed brown hair, and a gravelly smoker's voice. We hit it off by smoking a cigarette and swapping family stories. We went to the grocery store and then she treated me to dinner. She's a little quiet, so it's been a bit awk, but not really. If anything, she's very low-maintenance, I can already tell. Well, time to go to bed because my program is making me show up for orientation activities every day this week at 9 or 10. Fuckkkkkkkk
lunes, 18 de febrero de 2008
lunes, 11 de febrero de 2008
Pictures part deux (sp?)
Sorry I haven't been posting more pictures, but it quite literally just took 15 minutes for these ones to upload. So far, though, these are my favorites. First one is of Plaza San Martin, my absolute FAVORITE park. It's kind of like a miniature version of Central Park in one area, and then like a miniature version of SF's Dolores Park in another area. Second picture is the view from my rooftop. Isn't it beautiful. You can't see it in the picture, but way off in that direction is the Atlantic Ocean. Third picture is the city's Ecological Reserve. I spent a whole day there, and it's completely wild land, with a few paths going through it in different areas. Most of it is kind of like a tropical marshland. It was really beautiful and also pretty gay. I passed by a man who was probably about 70 who said to me, "Que lindo sos" (How beautiful you are). Since it was just me and him and no one for about a mile, I awkwardly half-smiled and quickly walked past him.
Got Sick, Now Much Better 2/5-2/12
Last Wednesday I was reading in a park and started to feel really achey, and then my eyes started to get sore, and right as I realized I was probably coming down with a fever, I decided to go home. While I was in the subway, the combination of the heat + crowdedness + nearly unbearable noise = near blackout. I almost fainted but luckily got off in time, got a cab back to my place and fell asleep. I woke up with a raging fever and a horrible sore throat that lasted until pretty much today.
I started feeling a little better yesterday about my body, but my feelings toward this city were seriously low. I was feeling underwhelmed, and after all the amazing things I've seen so far, I was running out of ideas, and was starting to realize, maybe this city's actually kind of disappointing if I already feel like I've done everything, maybe I chose the wrong place, and what the fuck am I going to do for another six months?
I woke up today, though, at around 3 PM (I decided to buy an alarm clock because I'm pretty much missing out on every day by staying up so late reading/watching movies/being a drunk), and the city seemed completely fresh, which was also the result, I'm sure of me recovering from being bed-ridden for close to five days. I actually used my tour guide and went on a suggested "city stroll," which I thought would be kind of lame and touristy, but was actually really rewarding. Site by site, I walked around, stopped, looked at where I'd reached, read about it, looked some more, and kept on walking. Most of the locations I encountered weren't even tourist hotspots, but just places with really interesting stories, or symbolic architecture, or something like that. The majority of my time was spent like a total sunburnt white American tourist, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking straight up for long periods of time, and grinning. I then went to my FAVORITE park and read for hours, also stumbling upon some camera crews who I believe were shooting a commercial or a music video full of people standing on a grassy slope and stomping their right feet in unison. Haha
More importantly, though, what I realized when I was sitting on a bench in this park (by this point the sun was setting) was how unbelievably exquisite everything was around me. The statue that I usually walked by while I was scouring for a spot in the sun, when I looked at it again, I realized that it was actually so so lovely. And I noticed how green all the leaves were (it IS the middle of summer, duuhhhh), and all the shadows, and all the couples making out around me. I was completely by myself, and a feeling overcame me that was really overpowering. I realized that many of the nuances of Buenos Aires that shook me at first into an immediate culture shock and then hit me again by making me realize their aesthetic qualities, today were impacting me in a third way, much more difficult to explain. They were more than just really pretty things I was seeing, they were actual relics of my life here. I was thinking about how living in a foreign location, it's really like experiencing a re-birth. Cut past the "cultural sensitivity" bullshit, take in how the people live their lives in a way that is more than visual, and while the voyeuristic process of "trying to figure people out" becomes more cerebral, I think you'll start to adopt the culture around you and become a hybrid. It sounds weird, but from people-watching and being around these people who for my time here have just been a mystery, I feel like I'm starting to get them, and with that this city's starting to feel instinctual. I had the same thing with Manhattan, like it slid itself into me in little ways that I didn't even recognize at first. Slid itself in? I guess I'm slowly being penetrated by Buenos Aires!
I started feeling a little better yesterday about my body, but my feelings toward this city were seriously low. I was feeling underwhelmed, and after all the amazing things I've seen so far, I was running out of ideas, and was starting to realize, maybe this city's actually kind of disappointing if I already feel like I've done everything, maybe I chose the wrong place, and what the fuck am I going to do for another six months?
I woke up today, though, at around 3 PM (I decided to buy an alarm clock because I'm pretty much missing out on every day by staying up so late reading/watching movies/being a drunk), and the city seemed completely fresh, which was also the result, I'm sure of me recovering from being bed-ridden for close to five days. I actually used my tour guide and went on a suggested "city stroll," which I thought would be kind of lame and touristy, but was actually really rewarding. Site by site, I walked around, stopped, looked at where I'd reached, read about it, looked some more, and kept on walking. Most of the locations I encountered weren't even tourist hotspots, but just places with really interesting stories, or symbolic architecture, or something like that. The majority of my time was spent like a total sunburnt white American tourist, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking straight up for long periods of time, and grinning. I then went to my FAVORITE park and read for hours, also stumbling upon some camera crews who I believe were shooting a commercial or a music video full of people standing on a grassy slope and stomping their right feet in unison. Haha
More importantly, though, what I realized when I was sitting on a bench in this park (by this point the sun was setting) was how unbelievably exquisite everything was around me. The statue that I usually walked by while I was scouring for a spot in the sun, when I looked at it again, I realized that it was actually so so lovely. And I noticed how green all the leaves were (it IS the middle of summer, duuhhhh), and all the shadows, and all the couples making out around me. I was completely by myself, and a feeling overcame me that was really overpowering. I realized that many of the nuances of Buenos Aires that shook me at first into an immediate culture shock and then hit me again by making me realize their aesthetic qualities, today were impacting me in a third way, much more difficult to explain. They were more than just really pretty things I was seeing, they were actual relics of my life here. I was thinking about how living in a foreign location, it's really like experiencing a re-birth. Cut past the "cultural sensitivity" bullshit, take in how the people live their lives in a way that is more than visual, and while the voyeuristic process of "trying to figure people out" becomes more cerebral, I think you'll start to adopt the culture around you and become a hybrid. It sounds weird, but from people-watching and being around these people who for my time here have just been a mystery, I feel like I'm starting to get them, and with that this city's starting to feel instinctual. I had the same thing with Manhattan, like it slid itself into me in little ways that I didn't even recognize at first. Slid itself in? I guess I'm slowly being penetrated by Buenos Aires!
lunes, 4 de febrero de 2008
So, I almost died...and I fell in love with this city.
Friday:
On Friday night I ended up meeting Jay, the American I had met last week, in a gay club, and although at first I sort of wanted to try something with him, it became apparent pretty shortly after that we were just friends and that, more importantly, we should be each other's wingmen this week. We talked for a long time in the bar, and I expressed how I become so painfully shy with hitting on guys, how I never know what to say, and all that lame bullshit, and he was just like, "What's the big deal? Life's too short." That night I didn't really approach anyone because I was still shy, but watching him was pretty inspiring and made me realize there is absolutely nothing weird or wrong about approaching someone and introducing yourself, as long as you don't do it in a weird way. It gave me hope, and I knew that this week would be the week to put myself out there.
Saturday:
I spent several hours reading in this really pretty park, I got incredibly sunburned (on my scalp again!), and I ended up seeing this movie called 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days about a girl in Romania who gets an abortion after, yep, four months, three weeks, and two days. It was a good movie, but pretty much the most depressing thing I've ever seen. Walking back from the theater, I was just really bummed out and wanted to go back to my place and just read and go to sleep when all of a sudden I noticed lots of weird little things around me. The first was a car full of girls who drove by, honking their horn to a rhythm, with a girl sitting in the trunk with balloons, a cigarette, and a paper crown. The second was a club where everyone in line was in costume. The third was a lot of people I walked by who were covered with foam. And as I approached my street, I saw a crowd of people standing in the street watching something, which turned out to be a parade of people dressed in matching costumes (glittery, sequined tuxedoes with matching top hats) dancing to a huge group of drummers. I completely forgot that Carnaval started that day! There were tons of people in the streets spraying foam all over each other, and I got sprayed several times in the face. Everyone was really drunk and having a fun time, so, of course, I joined in the festivities, bought a 40 and drank it on the street. I ended up going to a bar but got WAY too drunk to even approach people, which I wanted to do that night but I realized that I should have good judgment, take a cab home, and try the next day.
Sunday:
Jay and I met up and hung out at this really cool street market in my neighborhood. We talked for hours, and by far my friendship with him has been one of the most rewarding things I've done here so far. I ended up asking him all about what it's like to be out in the world and in the gay dating scene (he's 28), and it really made me excited to get older. He was telling me his theory, which I think is so true and makes me feel way better about dating/relationships/etc., which is that in contemporary America, and not just in the gay scene, but just in general, there really are no rules when it comes to dating and relationships. Whereas in the 1950s, there were very much rules that if you violated them, you were shunned pretty much from society, but in the contemporary era, you can be single at any age and not be an outcast. You can be into S & M and find places in nearly every US city where groups of people participate in those activities. There are no rules; people make their own dating/relationship/hookup rules and where people struggle is not understanding that the person they're dating, fucking, etc. just has different rules in their mind.
Anyways, we ended up going out to a bar that night and when we were standing on a corner, talking, I noticed a bus driving by full of people leaning out the window, yelling at me, and motioning. All of a sudden, I heard Jay yell, "Look out!" and run. I heard a crash, turned my head, and a fucking car was barrelling at me from an intersection, going probably about 40-50 mph. I quite literally run out of the way right before this car smashes into a store front and shatters the window. It turned out the driver of the car had a heart attack right before then, and passed out with his foot on the accelerator. Jay and I were fine, but I was in shock for about two hours afterwards, not saying anything, not really noticing anything, just thinking about the sight of a car just about to hit me. The owner of the bar was like, "Oh my God. Come inside. I'll get you some free tequila shots." Hahaha We ended up leaving and going to a club where I decided to be daring, and I approached a guy who I thought was cute whose name was Adrian (I was into him because he looks like Che Guevara). He ended up being really nice, we danced for hours, and I ended up making the first move and kissing him and then inviting him back to my place when we left the bar at 7 AM (so fucking late, right?). We didn't really do much, but it was nice just to know that I did this, that I picked up a really nice, cute guy, that I have it in me.
Monday:
I woke up with Adrian, and we hung out for a while and ended up getting up and getting lunch. It was really kind of awkward after that, and I realized he's kind of dull. Eh, we'll see. We exchanged numbers and he left. Today's been amazing though. I really feel like I'm coming into my own and I'm discovering, this sounds funny but it's true, how to be a man. Really, though. I've been realizing that I'm taking more chances and risks than I ever have in my life, and because of that, I'm feeling fulfilled. I'm discovering my potential, and I'm actively pursuing my desires. I've never felt so happy and mature in my life! I've also been writing again (I started a short story called "Jet Lag"), which has been really important to me. I love this city!
On Friday night I ended up meeting Jay, the American I had met last week, in a gay club, and although at first I sort of wanted to try something with him, it became apparent pretty shortly after that we were just friends and that, more importantly, we should be each other's wingmen this week. We talked for a long time in the bar, and I expressed how I become so painfully shy with hitting on guys, how I never know what to say, and all that lame bullshit, and he was just like, "What's the big deal? Life's too short." That night I didn't really approach anyone because I was still shy, but watching him was pretty inspiring and made me realize there is absolutely nothing weird or wrong about approaching someone and introducing yourself, as long as you don't do it in a weird way. It gave me hope, and I knew that this week would be the week to put myself out there.
Saturday:
I spent several hours reading in this really pretty park, I got incredibly sunburned (on my scalp again!), and I ended up seeing this movie called 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days about a girl in Romania who gets an abortion after, yep, four months, three weeks, and two days. It was a good movie, but pretty much the most depressing thing I've ever seen. Walking back from the theater, I was just really bummed out and wanted to go back to my place and just read and go to sleep when all of a sudden I noticed lots of weird little things around me. The first was a car full of girls who drove by, honking their horn to a rhythm, with a girl sitting in the trunk with balloons, a cigarette, and a paper crown. The second was a club where everyone in line was in costume. The third was a lot of people I walked by who were covered with foam. And as I approached my street, I saw a crowd of people standing in the street watching something, which turned out to be a parade of people dressed in matching costumes (glittery, sequined tuxedoes with matching top hats) dancing to a huge group of drummers. I completely forgot that Carnaval started that day! There were tons of people in the streets spraying foam all over each other, and I got sprayed several times in the face. Everyone was really drunk and having a fun time, so, of course, I joined in the festivities, bought a 40 and drank it on the street. I ended up going to a bar but got WAY too drunk to even approach people, which I wanted to do that night but I realized that I should have good judgment, take a cab home, and try the next day.
Sunday:
Jay and I met up and hung out at this really cool street market in my neighborhood. We talked for hours, and by far my friendship with him has been one of the most rewarding things I've done here so far. I ended up asking him all about what it's like to be out in the world and in the gay dating scene (he's 28), and it really made me excited to get older. He was telling me his theory, which I think is so true and makes me feel way better about dating/relationships/etc., which is that in contemporary America, and not just in the gay scene, but just in general, there really are no rules when it comes to dating and relationships. Whereas in the 1950s, there were very much rules that if you violated them, you were shunned pretty much from society, but in the contemporary era, you can be single at any age and not be an outcast. You can be into S & M and find places in nearly every US city where groups of people participate in those activities. There are no rules; people make their own dating/relationship/hookup rules and where people struggle is not understanding that the person they're dating, fucking, etc. just has different rules in their mind.
Anyways, we ended up going out to a bar that night and when we were standing on a corner, talking, I noticed a bus driving by full of people leaning out the window, yelling at me, and motioning. All of a sudden, I heard Jay yell, "Look out!" and run. I heard a crash, turned my head, and a fucking car was barrelling at me from an intersection, going probably about 40-50 mph. I quite literally run out of the way right before this car smashes into a store front and shatters the window. It turned out the driver of the car had a heart attack right before then, and passed out with his foot on the accelerator. Jay and I were fine, but I was in shock for about two hours afterwards, not saying anything, not really noticing anything, just thinking about the sight of a car just about to hit me. The owner of the bar was like, "Oh my God. Come inside. I'll get you some free tequila shots." Hahaha We ended up leaving and going to a club where I decided to be daring, and I approached a guy who I thought was cute whose name was Adrian (I was into him because he looks like Che Guevara). He ended up being really nice, we danced for hours, and I ended up making the first move and kissing him and then inviting him back to my place when we left the bar at 7 AM (so fucking late, right?). We didn't really do much, but it was nice just to know that I did this, that I picked up a really nice, cute guy, that I have it in me.
Monday:
I woke up with Adrian, and we hung out for a while and ended up getting up and getting lunch. It was really kind of awkward after that, and I realized he's kind of dull. Eh, we'll see. We exchanged numbers and he left. Today's been amazing though. I really feel like I'm coming into my own and I'm discovering, this sounds funny but it's true, how to be a man. Really, though. I've been realizing that I'm taking more chances and risks than I ever have in my life, and because of that, I'm feeling fulfilled. I'm discovering my potential, and I'm actively pursuing my desires. I've never felt so happy and mature in my life! I've also been writing again (I started a short story called "Jet Lag"), which has been really important to me. I love this city!
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