La Navidad, 10-9

A continuacion.....Christmas in Buenos Aires started out with sleep......I finally got to bed at about 5am after a long night of chatting with two Swedish guys, a Brit, and a Dutch guy about comparisons between soccer and religion. I don't want to get into this topic because I don't think it's worth a blog entry, but I will say that when someone truly loves something and is invested in it, it's hard to get them to see any other viewpoint. So convinced was one of the Swedes that soccer is equivalent to religion that he almost came to shouting when I told him that his argument was seriously flawed. It was much like trying to persuade an evangelical Christian that other viewpoints of Christianity exist or that certainty is impossible or that one has to accept some very hard to swallow ideas and contradictions in order to be Christian in the way that evangelicals practice.

Anyhow, the discussion ended amicably and while the Swedes and the Brits left to find a club in which to dance, the Dutch guy and I went home to our respective apartments and slept. On Christmas Day, I slept in until about 12:30, skyped with my parents for a while, and then returned to bed to read the New Yorker in the semi-dark with the fan on me the entire time (these days it's always 90 or so degrees here. I ain't complainin). At 2:30pm, I received a call from Guillermo, my former host dad, inviting me over for Christmas Day lunch at 3pm. I should have realized that 3 meant at least 4. Most Argentine's will tell you to come an hour or two before they actually mean it. After 9 months total in the country I still haven't figured this out. I got there at 3 and no one else had arrived yet. I was more or less the first.

So, for about an hour or so, I hung out, doing what I could to help with setting the table and chatting with the foreign houseguests as well as Argelia and Guillermo. The food on the table was leftovers from the previous evening. Nothing new except for some empanadas that had been pulled from the freezer. I was concerned about the safety of some of the mayo filled salads that had been sitting in the heat for so long before being refrigerated the previous evening, but they still smelled ok. However, being the obsessed foodie that I am, I was a little let down that there would be no new food on Christmas Day. Christmas day was more or less sloppy seconds, leftovers and people tired and groggy from Christmas Eve, the big celebration in Argentina. We unenthusiastically scooped down some sustenance and the real treat was when the British woman staying at the house brought out two English Luxury Puddings, Mincemeat in a Jar, and some type of vegemite type nasty yeast spread supposedly high in B-Vitamins. My day old cookies were also brought out.

After lunch, the Swedes came up with the idea of playing soccer in the adjacent school park that actually has a somewhat nice, albeit concrete, football arena. Having nothing better to do and intrigued by the idea of playing soccer on Christmas in Argentina, I joined.

What began with a friendly game of kicking a ball around turned into a full field high energy game against 5 Argentine guys. Being the most tenderfoot and more or less completely in the dark about the rules and techniques of soccer, I played goalie. I did know how to sacrifice my body and follow the ball and throw it or pass it to an open teammate. The rest of the team consisted of the two Swedes (who had played on an amateur team together and won a national championship), the Dutch guy, and the British guy. It must be very important in Europe to know what you're doing with a soccer ball. All of these European guys seemed to have a strong basic grasp of the game. And it was a good thing, because the middle aged Argentine guys were also very good, looked as if they'd been playing their entire lives.

The game got off to a bad start, for us. I was being scored on left and right and we couldn't get close to the goal. At that point, my European friends found their strides and scored a series of goals to bring us within a few points of winning (10 goals). At around the same time, I realized that it was better to watch the ball the entire time than to avert and shield my eyes like a wimp when the ball was kicked on me. What I'm trying to say is that I got better as the game went on.

In the end, I was able to save 3 attempts on our goal and then one of the Swedes scored and we triumphed over the Middle-Aged Argentines, 10-9. We shook hands and then took pictures of each other in our moment of triumph. Argentina may have won soccer in the olympics, but by God, we beat a few middle-aged guys on Medrano Street on Christmas Day-Barely.

After the game, I returned home to try to skype my family once more before the day was done. This was about 8 or 9 pm, but 3 hours earlier back home. I should have predicted that in the moment when I most wanted to talk with my family, my internet would be down. Of course it was. Internet and services in Buenos Aires are....how to put it...unreliable. In any case, I enjoyed a leisurely end to Navidad here by reading up a bit on the internet and cooking up some desert.

All in all, Christmas here was easily anticlimatic and maybe even a bit boring, save the soccer game. As I said before, it's not so much a big deal here. Christmas Eve steals the show and Christmas Day, like the food served on it, is leftovers.

La Noche Buena

A number of friends and family seem curious about what happens here over Christmas. Later in the week I'll post some pictures of the festivities, but for now, I'll bore you with my ramblings.

I'll start off by saying that there are less Christmas decorations, preparations, and music here than in the states...Possibly by a factor of 3-5. Don't get me wrong, Christmas/Holiday decorations are common, but simply nowhere near as deafening as they are in the states. They also rarely played Christmas music on the radio and on the TV there weren't many Christmas or Holiday movies. Almost no one here has a live tree and decorations for trees consist almost entirely of silver or gold orbs, not the kitchen sink type ornaments that we throw on ours in the states. Gift giving is also limited in Argentina. Kids here tend to get one or two gifts. Argentines also don't do much shopping until the last few days before Christmas. There isn't nearly as much hype leading up to the actual day. No black Friday. No door buster specials. Granted, there were some gimmicks and attractive sales at some stores in the mall, but nothing like the constant barrage of propaganda in the states.

I'm guessing that the reason Argentina doesn't celebrate or get into the holidays like we in the states do is that they are a smaller consumer market place. Let's face it, we have a ton of decorations and music in the states largely because retailers want to sell us stuff and we want to buy it. Strip the holiday of this element somewhat and you are left with.....Argentina.

And so it all started on La Noche Buena or Christmas Eve. In Argentina, Christmas eve is much bigger than the actual day itself. I'll give you a play by play of my experience here on Christmas Eve....The night before Christmas Eve I had a holiday dinner at my favorite parilla. I wound up munching on kidneys, chinchulinas (grilled intestines), and tira de asado (ribs) until about midnight and didn't get to bed until about 3am. The next morning I woke up at about 7:30 with the best intentions of going for a swim. I groggily stuffed my equipment in my backpack and began the walk to my gym. About a 3rd of the way, I realized I was far too tired and exhausted and meat hung over to either make it to the pool or swim once I was there. I decided instead to do my shopping for the day which consisted of picking up baking supplies for the cookies I had planned on making for the evening. Slightly after 8am I entered my local Coto supermarket and was amazed at the full parking lot. The interior was no less busy with people hurriedly filling their shopping carts full of Pannetone and Hard Apple Cider (here called Cidra). My new found city instincts quickly cut through my meat induced coma and told me that I had better make this shopping experience a quick one so as to avoid the long lines at the registers.

I was able to move through Coto efficiently and was off to my next task of finding molasses for ginger bread cookies. Argentines don't know what ginger bread cookies are so I decided to introduce our tradition. A friend told me that I could easily find molasses in the health food stores here and while that might be the case, none were open on Christmas Eve. Slightly defeated, I returned home, dropped my groceries at the door, and went back to bed. At 12:30, I woke up to prepare to teach English at 1pm to my now friend, Esteban. Yes, I kind of worked on Christmas Eve, but since it didn't really feel like Christmas eve anyway, it was no big deal. The class went well enough and afterwards, I grabbed a quick bite to eat and then began a long hot day of baking cookies (I'm kind of embarrased to have put that into words). I planned to make four different types of cookies to take to both my friends at one gathering and my host family later at another. Over the course of the next 5 hours, I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies, raisin pudding filled cookies, peach oatmeal fruit bars, and molasses cookies. By about 8pm, sweating profusely in the 90 degree heat combined with that of my oven, I finished.

The first stop was the center of town to a friend's swanky apartment to more or less say hi, drop off my gift of christmas cookies, chug down a glass of malbec, and then run back home to get ready for Christmas eve dinner.

Upon hitting the streets, I noticed a sense of calm and almost goodwill had passed over the city. It was quiet, there weren't many cars, people were smiling as they walked carrying food to the homes of friends and family throughout the city. In the subway, I had the pleasant surprise of a free trip, maybe to celebrate the holiday. Exiting the subway, I realized that I didn't know as well as I thought I did where I was. I asked the nearest guy I saw where Riobamba street was and he kindly directed me there and then patted me paternally on the back. Weird.

The stop at my friends apartment was short and back out on the street, I hopped on bus 152 on Marcelo T. Alvear street and started back towards my apartment. For some reason, again, complete strangers were striking up pleasant conversations with me. Somehow, there actually was a type of Christmas spirit (as cheesy as that is).

A quick stop at my apartment and a 4 block walk later I was at Argelia's carrying a mountain of cookies and a few gifts for the family. Past the ante-room in a semi-open air courtyard Argelia, my former host mom, had setup a giant table filled with a garden of various salads, plates of pork, and matambre (meat stuffed with eggs, spices, and other assorted vegetables.)

Dinner started at about 11:15 with a toast of Malbec wine (brought by the various European travelers who were staying at my former host family's place). There were a total of 25 or so people at the giant table including Argelia's brothers and their families as well as Argelia's parents.

The real festivities started at about 5 minutes to midnight. At this time, Argelia's youngest child, Maria, ran to the rooftop to look for Papa Noel (Santa Claus). At about the same time, fireworks exploded all throughout the neighborhood to celebrate the approaching holiday. Uncles were then dispatched to point out where in the sky Papa Noel could be seen. The uncles, however, seemed to always be able to see Papa Noel while the kids always seemed to miss him. A few minutes after 12, the kids returned to ground level to find that Papa Noel had somehow magically entered the house and scattered presents throughout.

At this point, gifts were torn into and in 5-10 minutes it was all over and we were back at the big table with flutes of sparkling hard apple cider toasting the arrival of Christmas Day. After the toasts and the dessert, we headed up to the rooftop to get some fresh air and had a rousing discussion about the role and importance of soccer and sports in the world. At about 4 am, some decided to try to go out dancing (Christmas Eve is a very big dancing night here) and the others (myself included) decided to go home to sleep.

For details of Christmas day in Argentina, read on in tomorrow's entry:)

Moral Atheism

I'll begin by saying that Portenos (People from Buenos Aires) relate to Buenos Aires as an abusive father. It's ok for them to speak badly about it, but it angers them to no end to hear other people criticize the city. One of the first questions that you get from Argentines is, 'Do you like Buenos Aires?' or 'Do you like Argentina?' If you answer yes emphatically and then provide sincere reasons why, you have made a friend. Say no, and you have the opposite.

People from Buenos Aires want to hear, love to hear that you love the city. Why? I have a number of ideas or hypotheses, but can't be sure.

Nationalism and patriotism here do not extend much further than world cup, olympic, or barrio soccer. The vast majority of people have no faith in the government, don't trust elected leaders, and don't really believe that democracy works. How then or why would they have any pride in their country if they are unwilling to believe in their democracy? I'm guessing that most Argentines don't have any other choice than to live here (for financial, familial, and language barriers). And it must frustrate the heck out of them sometimes. But, if someone from another country tells them it's not bad, but instead great! Then it makes them feel better.

When Argentines hear that I am leaving come the summer of 2009, they get a hushed look on their faces, almost seem hurt or left behind or....they realize that I've realized what they figured out a long time ago: Buenos Aires can be a fun place, but in many ways it is a mess and not the healthiest way to live.

Telling a Porteno that you are going to leave is almost like telling a loved one that you are separating with them, leaving them alone to deal with 5 crazy kids, clean up a mess while you go back to an easier, more stable place. I believe that I have lost at least one conversation partner after trying to have a frank discussion with her about why I could never settle down in Buenos Aires. Even though my conversation partner had once lived in San Diego and readily admitted how much more stable it is in the states, she was still hurt by the idea that I was leaving and she tried hard to convince me to stay. I almost sensed a jealousy, as if she had wished that she too were still in the states or could return to live there or in Europe, some place where things were a bit more stable, predictable, comfortable. A place where she and her family could have more opportunity and at least feel a sense of control over their destiny.

I long to have frank discussions with Argentines about comparisons between here and the United States and other countries. With many folks, it is nearly impossible. I can make maybe one critical comment about Argentina in a conversation and must cut it off at that. Any more and I am met with sulleness or hurt feelings.

When the shoe is on the other foot, I have to admit not loving when people criticize the United States. However, I think I'm far better at being objective about my country. I'm not running for office. I feel no need to say I love my country. It's a pretty good place, but we've got a lot of work to do. We're the richest country on Earth and yet we haven't figured out how to care for our citizenry nor provide them with affordable higher education (Among a gazillion other issues these days). Sure, it's a stable place where the people tend to be good hearted and to care for one another but we've got a long way to go.

I do my best to accept criticism about the states, but also to help people from AR and other countries form an accurate picture of them. I'm more interested in searching out the truth than defending my country out of some type of functionless national pride. I think patriotism is better when it is critical. If you truly care about your country, you are critical of its weaknesses so you can get better. Nationalism without a critical edge favors a superficial sports team sort of pride as opposed to the confrontation of reality.

Returning to the idea of Portenos having no faith in their government, elected leaders, or democracy. I believe that this lack of faith in the country's leaders and the government in general translates into a general distrust of society and community as a whole. That is, Portenos as a culture, on the whole, don't believe in the idea of working together for the common good. As a result, it is every man for himself. Every family for theirselves. Want to help someone? Want to look out for people other than yourself or your family. That's nice....But you're weak, stupid, naieve. You won't last. Good luck. The predominant mentality here is that if you want to survive BA, you'd better wise up, Ojo, watch out for yourself because nobody else is going to watch out for you.

And that is why I say that there is a moral atheism in this city. An illness. It's as if people in the city don't see each other, like they are blind. They almost refuse to acknowledge that others exist. They have learned that they need to barrel through life and look out for number one, in spite of the other blobs of flesh and bone whom they pass everyday. The illness is a lack of feeling. A lack of responsibility for anyone else or their community. The lack of responsibility makes people think that not only is it acceptable for them to do what they have to do to survive, it is necessary and weak and stupid not to.

This Porteno big city attitude infects almost every area of life here. You see it in the dog poop littering the sidewalks and streets, the grafitti all over beautiful buildings, the taxi, bus, and regular drivers that would sooner kill you than slow down to allow you to walk across the street even when you have a walk signal. You see it when old ladies who could be your grandmother cut in front of you in line at the grocery store or when you try to swim laps at the pool and the guy behind you tries to swim past you and in the process crashes into someone else who is going the opposite direction and then proceeds to drive you into the lane marker and then doesn't even apologize. Breathless run on sentence, I know.

The thread in this story that you can follow again and again here is lack of concern for ones neighbor, lack of responsibility to others or the community. I have no responsibility to anyone. I can throw my cigarette wrapper on the ground without thinking twice. Not my problem. It doesn't matter if I flick my cigarette and it hits someone else-they don't exist to me.

Of course I am generalizing. Of course there are exceptions. Of course there are good people here. I feel bad writing this because I have so many good friends in this city. But the truth is...And I cannot sugarcoat it anymore. A moral illness exists in this city. I'm not sure if it's a top down governmental thing or whether it's a grassroots illness that has affected the government. In any case, it exists.

My greatest fear is that I will adapt to this lifestyle. Bucking this system, trying to care about people in spite of the prevailing culture makes you feel alone, stupid, taken advantage of. It's stressful. Not fun. But I refuse to change. I don't want to return to the states with an every man for himself mentality. To me, it's not worth living if you have to live that way to survive. It's soulless. I look forward to returning to a place where I don't feel foolish for caring about other people, for supporting a sense of community, a concern for my neighbor. I hope there is a place in the states where I will feel this. But while I'm here, I'll continue to battle against the prevailing culture.

Spring and Swimming

Ahhh, spring. As the United States falls into a deep and dark winter (both weather-wise and economically), Argentina has moved into a tropical spring/summer (Although Argentina is in a perptual state of recession). For me, this means my first period of sustained sun and warmth in over two years. My body had more or less shut down in the last year, a permanent state of hibernation, surviving but not thriving. Now my leaves are beginning to grow again, my mind is turning positive, and finally I have energy. I recommend never skipping summer.

Ahh, spring. When a young mans thoughts turn to.....Well, if your me, they turn to asado

Yes, I'm still obsessed. I've foresaken my catholic roots. I now pray to the cow.

As I write this, it's Friday night at about 10 pm and if I could take a picture that somehow included smells, you would all sell your first borns to come down here. The smell of grilled meat is heavenly, intoxicating. I never thought I'd be writing these words, having for many years been as good as vegetarian....But the meat is simply that good down here.

Luckily, I've met some Swedish guys, newly arrived at my former host family's casa, who share my passion for the carne. Our quest together is to tour the city's parillas trying all sorts of new nasty bits. Tomorrow, we will share a 4 person parillada (A small grill brought to the table with a gazillion cuts of meat) while we plan our own asado as well as a trip to Tandil, a town in the Pampas known for its meat. In Tandil, the plan is to hike around and then spend the rest of the time searching out the best butcher shops in the town and then making our own asado on the grill of our cabin. I can't wait.

Ok, enough about meat. The spring here has been invigorating in general. The city has come to life. People fill the streets at all hours and there is a sense of something having lifted, a cloud or veil, allowing people to breath easier and be healthy again.

For me, the city is still like nails on a chalkboard. My trip home to the states helped me alleviate a ton of stress and I returned invigorated and ready to face the city. Now after over 3 weeks back, my stress level is still low, but I still feel a bit uncomfortable, on edge, as if I'm battling the city and not flowing. The tension is great for learning, reflecting, and growing. But sometimes you just want to be able to sit back, in a cocoon of sorts, and be able to relax completely. In the city, I'm not sure if it's possible. If you are too relaxed, then you ought to put up your guard a bit.

My former host mother is always imploring me to watch out for myself and be on the lookout for crooks. I always thought she was being hysterical until her mother told me about the 4 or 5 times that she'd been robbed in her life, the most recent having been this past weekend. Argelia's mom has had her house broken into and liquidated, almost everything of value taken. She has been pick-pocketed 3 or more times. And one time about 4 years back she was encountered by drunken or drugged out thieves who stole her purse and then tried to slit her throat (the only thing saving her being her polar fleece 'bufanda' or scarf). The veracity of these stories I can't confirm, but she's not the sort of woman to make these things up. Before my family freaks out after reading this, I want to point out that I, knock on wood, have not had any such encounters. I had things stolen from my travel bags once, but nothing else. I think that crooks here prey on the sick and the old, as well as the kind, naieve, and innocent. And this is why I say that you can never and should never relax in Buenos Aires, or any big city I suppose. It's a shame, but it has also forced me to open my eyes. My mind has become much quicker here, much sharper, much more ready to make an important snap judgement or observation. I considered this today as I walked home from work, how my mind jumped from person to person, assessing their situation, their motives, their intentions, their economic status etc. At the start of my trip, these thoughts were forced and draining- now they are effortless and second nature.

One thing is certain, however. Humans were not meant to spend 5 months in this city without a substantial break. This was the amount of time I spent here before my trip home to the states. By that time, I was frazzled, frustrated, stressed, my teeth grinding through the night. To combat this, I have decided to get out of the city on a more regular basis. As I said, next weekend, I plan on accompanying the Swedes to the Pampas for hiking and grilling. Then in the middle of January I take off for a full 2 weeks to San Martin De Los Andes, a mountain town on the border of Chile in Southern Argentina. I'm going there with 6 friends, 5 women and one guy (a newly minted doctor). We're going to act like hippies except I'm going to be grilling out a ton. In San Martin, I plan to hike, mountain bike, canoe, kayak, horseback ride, swim, sunbathe, and of course, make asado.

Speaking of relaxing and getting out of the city, I have come to realize that my choice to buy a 6 month pass to Megatlon was one of the best decisions I've made since I've been down here. Megatlon is not only a refuge from the busy city, it has also lowered my stress level significantly, given me a place to cool off in the sometimes unbearable heat, and helped me to get healthy. Swimming has become a new passion or at least a curiosity for me. In fact, yesterday I had the best swim of my life. I swam 80 lengths of the pool and felt like I could have swam for another hour non-stop. The truth is that I'm a terrible swimmer. I've never been good at it. I can remember as a kid almost always being the slowest one in swimming lessons and I simply never felt comfortable in the water. For many years, I avoided swimming altogether. It seemed like a lot of work, especially for something I didn't enjoy doing in the first place. However, after giving it another try, I've really come to enjoy it and I think I'm improving. I'm still inefficient, I can't flip turn or anything fancy like that, and I still don't always feel comfortable in the pool, but every now and then, I find my rhythm and it's like hitting the sweetspot on a seven iron or riding flawlessly through the pipe of a wave-connecting with harmony.

But it wasn't always this way. When I was just getting started, I had to fight my way through the lanes every day. First of all, in Buenos Aires, there is limited space and a limited number of pools. I pay a ton for my gym membership, but it doesn't matter. I still share a lane with at least 2 people every time I swim. The most people I have shared a lane with is 10 and the average is 4-5 people per lane. In the states, I never would have swum under these circumstances. The things is, though, that once you live in the big city for a while, you learn that you have to fight for your space and make things work. That is, if you make the trip all the way to the gym and there are 10 people in one lane, you jump in that lane and you put up with the kicks and shoves, you doggy paddle if you have to in order to get your laps in. In the end, you may not have alleviated your stress, but you got a workout and more importantly, you didn't let anyone keep you from doing what you set out to do.

Having sharpened my observation skills, I have identified a number of types of swimmers at my Megatlon. I'd like initially to point out that purely from an objective point of view, Argentine men are considerably hairier than the average man. On top of that, I believe that the heavy meat diet makes them bulky and massive, not in a body builder sort of way, but in more of a well fed animal sort of way. I have come to name a few of the swimmers with whom I share the 'Nado Medio' lane (translation: I swim at a medium speed).

The first and most consistent person with whom I share a lane is the 'Oso' (bear) or as I call him when he is making me feel slow, 'The lumbering mass'. The lumbering mass is a large hairy man who can swim for an hour non-stop. He never spends any time fooling around or catching his breath at the wall, he always swims freestyle, and I can hear his bearish grunting noises underwater. He is a solid swimmer, always keeps to the right side of the lane, and very much resembles a bear in his movements. I am a fan of the lumbering mass because he is very predictable and courteous.

The next swimmer I have nicknamed mockingly the 'rey de la pileta' or The king of the pool. The rey de la pileta is a much better swimmer than me. He's a normal looking middle aged guy who will do whatever it takes to swim for an hour non-stop. If someone is in front of him slowing him down, he will always try to overtake them, regardless of whether someone is coming down the other side of the lane, regardless of any situation. He has taken city Buenos Aires living to the nth degree. He stops for nothing, cares about no one, never apologizes or pardons himself, and essentially does whatever it takes to have the exact swimming experience that he desires. I detest the rey de la pileta. In fact, after he more or less deliberately ran into an older woman, I engaged in a game of swimming chicken with him, just to disrupt his progress. Very mature.

The last regular for whom I have a name I call La quejadora or The complainer. La quejadora is an older woman who swims very slowly who is always complaining to the lifeguards about someone around her or about the conditions of the pool. Everything else is to blame for her not enjoying or having the perfect swimming experience. She very much has an external locus of control in this sense. She also is very inconsiderate. For instance, she doesn't notice when people are swimming very close behind her and doesn't think to let those people swim in front of her at the turn. Further, she swims down the middle of the lane, doesn't move to the side of the wall when another swimmer is approaching (So the swimmer can't kick off the wall), and she talks to you as if you're the one who is being inconsiderate. In general, however, La quejadora doesn't bother me much. She swims slowly and her style, while frustrating, is predictable. I know that I have to be in front of her and that I have to watch closely every time that I pass her in the other direction because she's often in the center of the lane.

The remainder of the regular swimmers I put in the category of squatters. These folks are not as interested in swimming as they are in hanging out against the wall of the pool, chatting, bobbing their heads underwater, and stretching. They typically do not make room for approaching swimmers to kick off the wall nor rest. Squatters occupy their space against the wall as if simply hanging out in a lane were what lanes were for. This bothers me.

I suppose if I've illustrated anything through my observations of my pool time it's that I don't have much of a life. While that may be true, it is my life, however pathetic...And these people with whom I occupy the pool everyday have become my silent companions. Maybe they have a nickname for me too. Like the surly Yankee or the skinny dork.

Election 2008 II

A number of friends and family have commented to me about how I've yet to blog about Obama's victory. First, I'm flattered that people are still reading my blog. I'm doubly flattered that people care what I think about Obama winning.

That said, I'm happy to throw in my two cents.

I know enough about politics to know that just because someone gets elected president doesn't necessarily mean that everything will change. Moving a president's agenda forward requires either a very well orchestrated dance or a forceful jamming home of legislation, the latter having been perfected by the W. Bush administration.

Obama has intense plans for the future requiring extremely difficult legislation. He will have the advantage of a supportive Senate and House (though not quite fillibuster-proof), but he will have to fight some of the most powerful lobbies-the healthcare industry, the fossil fuel industry, and the military industrial complex- to achieve his goals. Further, he is taking the reins during the greatest financial crisis since the great depression. Given the right ideas and execution, he is poised to be a modern day FDR, putting people back to work repairing the infrastructure of our country, leading the world forward with advances in alternative energy, and providing healthcare to all those who are either too sick, poor, or middle class to afford it. By the same token, if he fails in execution and is mired in scandal or conflict, he could be the next Hoover.

What I feel about Obama's victory is not excitement nor relief....but hope. I realize that just because Obama has been elected doesn't automatically mean a happy ending. The agenda he has for the country is at least rigorous. As a nation, we have been eating donuts since the Carter presidency, or the last time that a president asked us to sacrifice. I have the feeling Obama will want to put us on a diet and make us all start running laps. That is, all this change won't come easy. We've got serious work to do. The Chinese and Japanese aren't going to give us the money to fund all of these wonderful programs. Weaning ourselves off fossil fuels will not be extremely uncomfortable. Removing funding from underperforming programs will not be pretty either. In short, to accomplish his goals for the nation, Obama will likely make changes that affect each and every one of us.

At first, despite whether or not a change is in the grand scheme of things a good thing, almost everyone has difficulty adapting. U.S. citizens are not accustomed to sacrificing. It's been a while. Can we do it? Of course. Has it been a while, maybe since Korea or WWII? I'm too young to be able to say it authoritatively, but history suggests it.

My concern is that people will at first reject the changes that Obama makes, that the daily discomfort and change in peoples' lives and routines will be too much. I think people in the U.S. have become accustomed to having it very easy, not having to deal with change or disruptions, always more or less landing on their feet, despite temporary setbacks.

The fact is, though, that for significant change to take place, people will have to put up with momentary and in some cases extended periods of discomfort as we push towards a new stasis, a new form of being. Obama will have to prepare the nation for this discomfort. He will have to ask the country to sacrifice, to be patriotic not just about going to war, but about achieving important domestic goals as well. If we honestly want to make progress with domestic programs, we have to transform from a country of patriotic warriors to a country with nationalistic fervor for assuring that our tax dollars do the greatest possible good for the greatest number and the country as a whole as well. We must be able to believe in and trust our government. We must be better watch dogs. We must all take more personal responsibility for our government. We must be our government.

I personally am sick of seeing the greatest number of my tax dollars go to wars and the military (though I certainly value their role). I'm disgusted by the fact that we're the richest nation on the planet and we don't yet have healthcare for all our citizens. I can't understand how we've allowed college to become so expensive. I'm annoyed at how we've ignored our potential to continue to power our economy forward while at the same time increasing our national security and decreasing our dependence on Middle Eastern oil by investing in alternative energy technology. I want us to change from a country of people who are only patriotic about war, to a country of people who are patriotic about improving life at home.

I think Obama shares this vision. More importantly, I think he possesses the strength, energy, passion, chutzbah, and rhetorical skills to carry us from this mess to a better place. I think he is smart enough to know that he must prepare people for the sacrifices that they will have to make, for the unsettling changes that are sure to come. I hope that he is able to convince people that the effort will be worth the final reward.

But most of all, I hope the people of the U.S. still know how to sacrifice. I hope we truly are the greatest country on Earth. I hope that we have the willpower and strength to adapt, to hold onto our place in the world while we evolve into something better.

Election 2008

In 2004 and 2006, I was a responsible citizen. I volunteered full time for political candidates (in addition to my full time school psychology internship in 2004 and school psychology job in 2006).

In 2008, not so much. This year, I spent the months leading up to the election in a self-centered/reflective state in South America. On election day, I woke up late, ate a large breakfast over the course of 2 or so hours, and then swam the breast stroke for 2 full hours in one of the two beautifully maintained resort pools at my brother's Florida condo complex. When I finished with my leisurely swim, I walked over to the hot tub and spent the next half hour watching the clouds move slowly by while contemplating how much my life had changed in the past 4 years.

I had the best intentions. My plan was to fly back to the states, meet my brother's new baby Nick, and then try to volunteer for Obama as much as I could before the election and on election day. To my credit, I tried to contact the Obama campaign previous to flying to Florida and did not receive any sort of response. However, I know from working on campaigns that if you really want to help, you have to physically go to the office and jump in. No one is going to waste the time to roll out a red carpet. So the onus was on me. I got lazy and let election day come and pass without doing anything save wearing my Obama/Biden shirt during my bus and train trip from Miami to Deland, Florida.

So while I let the jets of the hot tub massage my shoulder blades, I considered the vastly different place I had come to in my life. Not too long ago I had been an obsessive and tireless volunteer for progressive political candidates and election day was therefore like Christmas only filled with work until the polls closed. 2 years later, I had burned out maybe? I considered it...How could I have changed so much in only two years?

As I look back on it, I had always planned to stick around in Ohio for at most one more election. I suppose what happened is that I decided to cut my plans short. As I've said, I never really liked politics. I only got into it because I felt an obligation. For a long time, there were far too few people speaking out against Bush, opposing him in general, or working to elect progressive leaders. At the time, I felt a personal call to action.

When I travelled to Argentina the first time, something changed. I stepped back from the U.S. political scene and felt for the first time like a citizen of the world instead of just the U.S. And so, all of a sudden, the squabbles between the Democrats and Republicans seemed ridiculous as viewed from afar. The content was not ridiculous. Far from it. But the way in which the conflict was carried out, with talking points, soundbites, and a lack of critical thought on both sides....was moronic. This is not to say that I quit my involvement in politics because I felt smarter than politics or better than politics. I think I instead suddenly realized the futility of my passion. And I became more interested in the bigger picture. I started to think more about Argentina and South America than I did the states. I began to pay more attention to Argentine newspapers than I did to papers in the states. I spent most of my spare time chatting with my online conversation partners in Argentina. Last year, in my head, I was already in Argentina, though my body was unhappily in the states.

When I moved down here, after a few months, my heart and mind moved in the opposite direction. I began following the election and most of the news in the states very closely, realizing through the financial crisis the importance of the states: we're the dog that wags the tail. I lost interest in the politics of Argentina. And I felt a renewed passion for politics in the states. But a quiet passion this time. Maybe a more grounded passion.

I felt ok with the idea that I would not be in the states to help with the election. Sure, I was shirking my civic duty. However, I packed many years worth of civic duty into 2004 and 2006. This was my election year off. Further, it was clear that Obama had almost all of the fervent support he needed. So many young people had stepped up to help him. My sense was that if he could win, he would have the money and volunteers to do so. My fear was that he couldn't win because he is half African-American. Or, the election would be rigged so it wouldn't matter.

So I think this time around, I didn't feel the pull or call to volunteer. And I'm in a selfish but necessary place in my life in which I'm powering up for my next stage, my next move. I'm physically and spiritually renewing myself to be involved in some type of new cause or project, whether it be a new job, family, house, business or all of the above.

In the end, the aforementioned is more than anything a big excuse for why I did next to nothing to help Obama become president. I needed to explain it to myself, to see it in words, and to know how I could be in such a different place in my life this time around. Nevertheless, to all those who did pour their hearts out and literally damage their health (Thanks Ed!) to get Obama elected, I thank you heartily. I'm thrilled about the idea of returning to a country led by such a thoughtful, inspirational, and intelligent guy. A truly sincere thank you!! More to come on my thoughts on an Obama presidency in the next post.

Culture Shock and Megatlon

(Aside: As I write this at 10pm on a Saturday night, the mouth watering aroma of my neighbor's barbecue (here called 'asado') is wafting up to my open door and tempting me to eat a second dinner of free range Argentine beef).

By now, if you've kept up with this blog, you've followed an often exhausting account of the differences between Argentina and the United States. In a class I took on my way to earning my TESOL (Teaching English as a Second Language) certification I learned that one of the stages you encounter after moving to a new country is culture shock. First, you experience a euphoric stage where everything is new and exciting, fresh and fun. This is followed by more harsh realities, or frustration with a culture that is much different from that which you came. Friends, I am stuck in a morass of culture shock.

After culture shock, you are supposed to enter a stage in which you begin to accept the new culture and become comfortable with it, to internalize it. The problem is, I'm findingit difficult to give up my grip on what I've come from. I can't accept that things are better done here. Lastly, I don't want to change my idea of the way things ought to be.

The problem is that if I don't move into the next stage, I will be stuck in culture shock and will therefore be frustrated for the rest of my trip. It would be much better if I viewed Argentina as a challenge or a game with rules in which I should engage. At the moment, I am chafing against it, like a rusty knife trying to slice a ripe tomato, I'm making a mess of many of my interpersonal interactions.

Take for example a recent experience.....(I'll start with background) In the Miami International Airport before my trip I made out a list of goals I wanted to accomplish or things I wanted to do in Buenos Aires. The list basically included all the things I wasn't doing in Columbus and reflection-based activities important to considering my next step(s) in life. I also wanted to find ways to relax and stay in shape.

Last week, I took the opportunity to revisit my goals and to my surprise, I found that I am actually pursuing most of the goals I had set for myself. The only goals I had not begun to address were those related to staying in shape, yoga, and swimming. For this reason and because I have been seeking out a place of peace and tranquility in the city (as well as somewhere air conditioned in the summer), I decided to splurge on a 6 month pass to one of the best and most pretentious gyms in the city, MEGATLON.

I visited Megatlon once and was attracted to the clean smell and feel, the 4 floors of activities, the uncrowded pool, and all the classes that were offered as part of the pass. After a week or so of pondering the idea and struggling over the high cost, I decided to go for it (after both making a list of pros and cons as well as reassessing my goals for this trip. I know, I am cheap:)

On the 20 or so minute walk to the gym, I equivocated even more about my decision. What else could I do with this money to enrich my life? Would anything else make me as happy? Should I be saving the money instead? Could I take a vacation worthy of saving the cash? Will I need it in the lean months when I'm not working? If I don't get the membership, will I wind up paying the same amount of money after coming down with some type of medical ailment as a result of allowing myself to get out of shape combined with eating my weight in steak every week? Welcome to my mental world.

After arriving at Megatlon and being pacified by the very kind and attractive attendent, I wound up very happily handing my money over. The smell of the chlorine reminded me of the Bay Village pool (My first memory of a summer pool in a Northern Ohio suburb), breaking my teeth on Now and Later candies, and jumping off the high dive for the first time. How could I not get the pass?

But soon after handing over the cash, the problems began. There were more fees and I hadn't brought enough money to cover them. There was a separate fee to have a card made for me. And I needed to get a checkup from a physician that ran about 12 dollars and would include a heart scan of some sort. Another issue was that the physician wasn't there and would only be in on Monday and Tuesday. However, I was told that I could use my pass until Monday by presenting my receipt in the meantime.

Before leaving, I looked over the receipt and asked the attendant to be sure that I was in the computer. I have learned in Argentina that you need to check everything twice, that folks here have a culture of (I'm not going to sugarcoat it) stealing from other people. It's called viveza criolla. Many people here think that if they can steal or rob people in an intelligent or clever way, they deserve or have earned the money that they've stolen. That is, they feel that if they can get away with it, it proves that they are more intelligent than the person from whom they stole and are therefore deserving of the money. This may explain why almost every foreigner I know who has come to AR has had something stolen, including myself (2 MP3 players and a memory card for a digital camera). It explains why my Argentine friend Erica recently had to called a second plumber to fix her water heater since the first one didn't fix it but instead stripped it of its expensive parts and replaced them with cheap ones. It explains why everyday tourists in the center of the city are the victims of elaborate and clever scams that typically result in pickpockets and long days waiting in the US embassy for new passports.

Anyhow, I was concerned that all the money I had handed over would be stolen, that my information wasn't in the computer, that my receipt would serve no purpose, that because I didn't have a card yet, there would be no record of my having paid. Would this thought ever have crossed my mind in the States? No. Unfortunately, however, thoughts like this now cross my mind every day and have turned me at times into the sort of pessimist I never wanted to become. On one hand, I know for certain living in Buenos Aires has made me more street smart, less trusting, more grounded. But this all comes at a price. There is something beautiful and light about being innocent. It's liberating and it allows you to live and risk and trust. When you live in a giant city with regrettable cultural undercurrents, you change to protect yourself.

But as usual, I digress....Luckily, when I returned later that night to use my receipt, it was accepted and I spent a blissful hour before dinner finding my freestyle stroke again after almost a year out of the pool. I took time to glide underwater slowly and to enjoy relative weightlessness. I was so happy that I had purchased the membership and looked forward to more days of aleviating the stress of this teeth grinding city.

The following day, emboldened by the previous afternoon of bliss in the pool, I returned early in the morning before breakfast. I was looking forward to starting the day off with an invigorating 30 or so minutes of lap swimming in the pool followed by a shower. The problems started at the front desk.

There was a new cadre of employees standing behind the desks in the morning. I flashed my receipt as before, but this time it didn't work. The woman scanning passes looked quickly and then said 'No'! Argentine women tend to be very direct. To people from the states, they seem very impolite, but to people in AR, it is normal. I still am not used to it, especially early in the morning so immediately, I was taken aback and frustrated. In defense, I rolled my eyes and laughed. This is how I respond to most of my frustration in Argentina. I know it's not a smart response at all, but it's better than getting angry.

I knew that there was going to be some type of problem with the pass that I'd just bought, that somehow it wouldn't be so easy. Trying to accomplish nearly anything in AR winds up being difficult in one way or another (at least for me in comparison to the States). It would be too easy to simply buy a gym pass and then expect to be able to use it in peace, especially after having paid a ton of money for it. In the states, if you pay a great deal of money for a gym pass, you expect to be treated very well as the client of an exclusive health club. In Argentina, however, it is not a culture of customer service, no matter how much you pay. I should have understood this before buying the pass. That is, employees in AR will always consider themselves in a position to argue with you. The idea that the customer is always right or that you ought to treat the customer well doesn't really exist. Instead, a culture of arcane and beauracratic rules dominate the work ethic of most employees. They pay attention to exactly what they're told to do by their bosses and little to no sense of customer service skills are instilled.

When I laughed in acknowledgement to myself that my theory about AR was again unfortunately proven correct, I could tell it automatically made the Megatlon attendant angry and defensive. My laugh to her meant, 'this is so stupid, you are so stupid, Argentina is so stupid'. Argentines deplore criticism of their country by foreigners, especially people from the states. They know we are frustrated by their rules and beuacracy. I suppose I wasn't really laughing at this women, I was just laughing because I knew that my whole idea of having a gym membership that would allow me tranquility and comfort in a big dirty city would not be as easy as I had hoped, despite all the money I had spent, despite all the money in the world. There would always be someone to mess with me, to make it more difficult than it had to be.

The point is that my laughing made her want to oppose me more, to find a reason then to keep me out of the gym. As a general rule, Argentines are contrarians. That is, they say the opposite of what you say as a dynamic of discussion. Also, they tend to like to argue and seem to thrive on conflict, like Italians I suppose. I on the other hand dislike conflict. I can do it, but it stresses me out.

So the Megatlon attendant and I were at an impass. I handed her the receipt and said, LOOK! I paid a ton of money yesterday to get a 6 month membership here. What do you mean I can't use the gym pass? She said in response...But you didn't pay, then she shook her index finger at me(an Argentine gesture that I dislike with a passion) No!

I said again, Look at the receipt, I did pay.

She turned the receipt over and saw that I had paid and then shook her head again and said, but you don't have a card.

I shot back, I can't get my card until the doctor checks me out and he is not here until Monday so I was told that could use this receipt in the meantime.

She said, No! You haven't paid for your card or the doctor.

I returned, but I can't get the card until I see the doctor and I know better than to pay for something before I receive it so I am waiting to pay for the card and the doctor on the day and at the time that I receive the service.

She frowned and after another helpful Argentine behind me agreed with me, she finally relented (after telling the helpful Argentine to go in before me. She was upset that he was helping my case and wanted him out of there. It often happens that other Argentines will get involved in arguments even if they don't have to. Like I said, they seem to like it. Luckily, other Argentines often come to my rescue to help me get through these types of incidents. There are some great folks here and some really regrettable ones, which is true everywhere but here they are more polar opposites).

After this stressful exchange early in the morning, I spent 30 minutes in the pool trying to work out the anger it caused me. On the way out of the gym, I said thank you as sincerely as I could to the attendant, hoping to change her attitude about me, but knowing by her cold response that our relationship would never be good, despite my best efforts.

And on the way home from the gym, I still couldn't shake the stress and anger. Not just from this incident, but from the cumulative effect of the stress of the city and the fact that things like this happen almost every day in Buenos Aires. It is no doubt culture shock and I am fighting for control, for my idea of the way things should be. But I can't control it or anything here and it drives me crazy and so I am always a full vessel and the cultural challenges I face every day bubble me over.

When your attitude is bad or you are in a bad mood, you are more likely to spiral down, to encounter other roadblocks, to respond worse to other challenges. It is like I'm an ice skater in the olympics and I've fallen after a relatively easy jump and then I've allowed my disappointment and frustration to infect the rest of my routine and now I'm falling and flailing on every big jump, making a mess of the ice.

In the end, I know it's not Argentina's fault. I chose to come here. I can't expect this place to make sense to me, to yield to my will, my need for control. I have to instead accept it, know that I cannot change it, and find a way to play the game and succeed. I need to change my attitude to see it all as a challenge, a learning experience, an exercise in adaptability.

A lot of things here may not make sense, but then again, a lot of things in life don't make sense. But we still have to play the game, to abide by the rules, to jump through the hoops. I guess I'd just gotten so good at the game I had learned to play in the states. Then I traveled to a new place and all the rules changed and I now I stink at life and it's depressing:)

But just as in Ice skating, I think the judges pull for the underdog. That is, if you fall early and then are able to overcome your lack of confidence and pull out some amazing jumps and have a flawless routine after that, you wind up scoring big points. Or, if you're Tiger Woods and you go 5 over par after the first round of the Masters, you can still come back, with the right attitude and without allowing what happened before to infect the rest of your game. Just as in sports or other games, it is mental energy and endurance that will allow me to survive and thrive in this experience. And if there is any silver lining in the constant culture shock that I'm facing here, it is that I am increasing my ability to be patient, adaptable, and that I am learning sustained mental endurance, new rules, and to succeed in a super-extended game. I imagine many great projects in life require this type of endurance: marriage, raising a family, running a political campaign, starting a business etc.

For now anyway, I'm beginning to understand that I can't go to bed tonight and put the chess board in the box and forget about it. The pieces will always be waiting for me in the morning, right where I left them, waiting for my next move.

Update

As the U.S. moves into fall, Argentina is fighting to give up the mild but dreary winter. Some mornings are sunny and warm, but by the end of the same day it's windy and or rainy as a front overtakes the city and ushers in a string of dark 50 or 60 degree days. Having replaced two U.S. summers with mild Argentine winters, I've begun to realize that this lifestyle (Spending U.S. summers in South America) is untenable, at least for me and at least for more than 1 year straight. Sun is important. Heat is important.

Aside from weather, my life has changed in other ways. As much as I tried to branch out into other types of work, I have been pulled back magnet-like to my profession. For whatever reason, tourism is not what it used to be here and as a result, I have had little business giving tours or writing for the tourism website. This has upset me since I spent so much time studying and practicing for this position. Granted, I learned a ton about Argentina in the process, but I'm not convinced that the time couldn't have been better spent. I feel as though the company that I signed on with was has been disorganized, overdemanding, and dishonest. Granted, there are factors like the recent economic crisis that I'm sure they didn't bank on. In any case, they overestimated the amount of work they'd have and as a result, I have more or less lost the vast number of hours I invested in them..

I've replaced the tourism job with two new small jobs. I was referred by the mother of the family from San Francisco to another family from the states who owns a luxury trip planning company in BA. They have two trilingual children who attend school in French and Spanish, but not in English. So, the parents employee me to increase the reading level of the older of the two children, both in fluency and comprehension. They also want to improve his writing skills, especially spelling as his current English spellings are a comic combination of Spanish and French. Right now, I'm starting with direct intervention through the repeated reading technique with curriculum-based assessments (Back to school psychology). The job is a no brainer, something I've been doing daily for the past 4 years. And the 7-year-old I work with seems like a really good kid. The added benefit is that the apartment in which I teach is absolutely beautiful, on the 17th floor of a building in Belgrano that looks out over the city as well as the Rio De La Plata. The view is truly amazing and as I administer the reading probes, I have plenty of time to steal long gazes from a vantage to which only the very fortunate are privvy.

I stumbled upon another job in the last week. There is a bit more of a story to this one...In BA, everyone has heavy wooden curtains over their windows to shield from noise and light and some think wrongly that they also protect against burglary. In any case, both sets of mine broke on the same day that I bought spice plants for my balcony, a beautiful sunny 80 degree day. As a result, I couldn't get out to my balcony to repot my plants and my apartment was rendered completely dark. As is the case in BA, I called 3 different guys before one of them decided that he wanted some money and came to my apartment to give me an estimate to fix the curtains. I had planned on getting multiple estimates but when a week had passed and the other 2 handymen had not called me back nor come to my apartment as they said they would, I decided that I'd lived in the dark long enough. I called back the one guy who gave me the estimate and agreed to pay the quote he'd provided. In the process of fixing the curtains, we got to talking about a number of subjects including his interest in learning English. He kept returning to this subject so finally I told him that I'd teach him. I told him to think it over, gave him my card, and told him to call me if he decided he was interested. A few days later, he did call me and we set up 3 hours of classes/week.

So now, my work schedule consists of teaching English at Hewlett Packard, teaching the guy who fixed my curtains, teaching multiple subjects to 2 kids from San Francisco, and teaching reading and writing skills to a trilingual 7-year-old. I'm happy with my work routine and all this direct instruction is no doubt good experience for my career. I continue to teach English in exchange for yoga lessons so now at least two of my students are beginners and I am getting more intensive ELL teaching experience.

For whatever reason, be it fate or lack of effort, I have not succeeded in branching out in terms of different career experiences. I think, however, that I enjoy the independence of teaching, the hours, the meaning and genuine contact with people. I suppose I've decided to some extent that I'm disposed to the education profession in this form and that it suits me much better than sitting in an office all day.

One of the ideas I wanted to explore through my experience in BA this year was whether I wanted to work in the education profession for the rest of my life. I'm still not sure I do. However, I'm more convinced than I was last year that I am at least well disposed to this profession and that it is comfortable and meaningful to me.

I've been talking with folks here too about how meaningful my general experience in BA has been to me thus far. I maintain that I've learned more here in the past 4 months than I learned in Columbus in the last 3 years. I feel as though I'm in kind of a spiritual orbit of my life, a parallel universe in which I'm looking in at my life from the outside, reflecting and sorting out. It's like when a computer runs for months and then all of a sudden tells you that it has to do a scan to check for errors in the system and then it asks you if it's ok to correct those errors. I think right now I'm in the midst of a semi long-term computer scan.

At the moment, I feel a great urge to jump back into my life as a school psychologist in the states, to be near my family, to go to fall football games, to drink apple cider, to carve a pumpkin, to buy halloween candy, and to spend quality time with my niece and nephews. And I'll get my wish in about two weeks when I visit the states for a week and a half. However, I know that I need more time in Argentina, that there is still much more to learn about myself, that I still have a lot of growing to do.

Some of the things I've learned thus far may seem simple and obvious but require an experience like this to truly internalize. I've realized that my family is a good and close one and that if you're lucky enough to have a good family, you should make an effort to be close to them and value them. That said, I'd like to be in the states next year somewhere in proximity to my family. And I have a dream now of buying a small cottage or house on Lake Erie in Conneaut, the long time hometown of my mother and grandparents. It's a quiet town that lost its industry and has since been forgotten by the world. But its stretch of beach and parklands is beautiful in the summer and has a great rootbeer float stand adjacent to the beech. My family needs a place to meet and spend quality time together in the summer. We have no summer house like many families and once my 95 year old grandfather dies, we will have lost our connection to this town that holds so much meaning to all of us. So the dream is to save up and buy a summer house here that all the family can use in return for some type of improvement, some type of investment like retiling the bathroom or buying a piece or two of used furniture. I'd like to have a grill, picnic tables, beach toys, a sailboat, and a closets full of games and toys for kids. As cheesy and domestic as this all sounds, it's a revelation that I've had while in BA that family and my emotional connection to them is one of the most important things in my life. As such, I should do something to honor them and enrich all of our lives. This sort of plan is even more important in light of the fact that we are now scattered all over the world and need a place for everyone to come back to in the summers.

I've also learned that the big city is a place to which I don't connect well. Buenos Aires is great when you are in love, but it transforms into an entirely different reality when you're not. In love, the city is charming, aesthetically pleasing, has great affordable restaurants and bars, and fantastic nightlife to indulge in romance. Out of love, Buenos Aires becomes extremely stressful. The thought of walking out into the street requires mental preparation. Every trip during the week is a battle against hordes of people to get to a destination on time. The subways and busses are crowded and hot, the pollution is lung blackening, the noise is repressive, the people are on-edge, the drivers are literally crazy, and the ethical standards of the people are often deplorable (whether because of culture or relative poverty).

Of course, there are a lot of great things about the city and the specific people I've met and with whom I've chosen to make friends. However, I've realized that instead of big city, I'd rather live in a more natural place with mountains, fresh air, lakes, proximity to the ocean, rivers, forests, hiking, big sky, wildlife. Some of my best memories were living out in Oregon and spending my days hiking up different mountains in Smith Rock State Park and writing journal entries.

The city has been and will continue to be an important developmental and learning experience for me. However, it is not where I would like to end up. I need more nature and peace and outlets for hiking, biking, and clean exercise.

Another thing I've learned is that you can't run from your problems. You just can't move to the other side of the planet and expect things to magically improve. Often times, the issues are instead intensified because all of a sudden you not only have a clearer vision of your life, but you also become very stressed and have almost no support to deal with your issues. Moving away to run from your problems actually becomes a way of forcing you to confront your issues in a very extreme and stressful way. Whatever issues you have in your life seem to become much clearer when you are stressed out and alone. For that reason, this trip has been exactly what I needed at this point in my life. My last year in Columbus I felt listless, spiritually muddled, confused about my next step or direction, confused about my priorities, confused about my meaning. I have not answered all of these questions or resolved all these conflicts, but after the stress and loneliness of the big city, I have certainly conftonted these issues and am well on my way to coming to sensible conclusions.

So while I feel the draw to come back to the states to smell the soggy leafy fall air and to hear the sounds of the football games on Friday nights and to taste the first apple and pumpkin pies of the season, I know I need to be in Argentina longer to learn more, to be sure that the decisions I make for next year are objective, what I really need instead of being clouded by past issues or confused motivations. The most important thing for me to learn about here is what is important to me, what are my priorities, what do I need to be happy or content. Once I learn more about myself, I can make deliberate decisions to complement my true needs. Without this understanding, I will continue to find myself making decisions whose outcomes don't fulfill my life. With a better understanding, I hope to move towards a sense of inner peace and contentedness that will allow me to settle contedly into my 30s.

To Plan or Not to Plan

In Argentina, people consider me very organized, a planner. Here, I am one of the most punctual, future/goal oriented people that most of my Argentine friends know (And that's not always a compliment, it's actually more of a criticism, confusing and annoying to Argentines). In the United States, I'm not considered disorganized, but I'm certainly not the most organized nor am I the most goal oriented or punctual person. In fact, among the folks with whom I went through grad school, I was easily one of the least organized.

So, the context of our countries has a lot to do with who we are. A related example is that when I went to school in Bay Village, Ohio in first and second grades, I was placed in all average elementary school classes. I even remember thinking and accepting at that time that I was just average academically and that I should probably concentrate on some other facet of my life as a means of excelling.

Upon moving to North Canton, OH, I was placed in all of the advanced groups. Suddenly, because of a change in context, I had become smart. My identity shifted from a rough and tumble academically average kid to a more cerebral and precocious one, simply because my context changed and my sense of identity changed with it. In Buenos Aires, the same is currently taking place, but instead of turning into a more plan oriented person (As I have been reidentified by Argentines), I am deciding whether this is the best way to live my life. I am beginning to think that I am too organized, too plan and future oriented. I wonder if I have been making poor life decisions as a result of my planning a year or at least months in advance. Have I been locking myself into unnecesary decisions? Have I not been living in the moment or enjoying life as much as I might otherwise? What are the consequences of this way of doing things?

To begin to address this topic, I'd like to discuss why this difference between Argentines and people in the US might exist to the degree that it does.

In Argentina, there is some type of crisis,whether financial or governmental, about every 10 years. As a result, Argentines have had to become very adaptable people. Chronic inflation, the dirty war, military coupes, bank crises, the drastic devaluation of the peso, and coralitos have taught Argentines that putting too much confidence in future plans is not worth it since future crises are likely to destroy their plans. In response, Argentines have become expert at spontaneity, quick thinking, adaptability, making-do, being happy with what they have, living in the moment, and concentrating on things that really matter like family and friends. On the other side of the coin, many neglect the future, fail to plan ahead at all, place very little importance on the future, and let their emotions and feelings rule the moment (not to say that this doesn't occur in the U.S. perhaps for the same or different reasons).

There is some question as to whether the government and crises in AR have lead to the 'live in the moment' attitude of the people or whether the inherent culture and mentality of Argentines is simply reflected by their government- The chicken or egg argument. However it happened, Argentines don't spend much time looking to the future and they think it is weird and a bit unsettling and maybe even disagreeable that I do.

This cultural disconnect has shaken me and made me reconsider my planning habit.

I think it is part of the American dream to plan. We are culturally inundated with the idea that if you work hard enough, do what you're supposed to do, save for the future, invest, one day you will achieve the American Dream of economic prosperity. We are taught that we can do anything we want to if only we put our minds to it. Our society tells us that we must have goals and direction, that without them we are drifting like so much floatsam and jetsom, without real purpose and without motivation to jump through the many hoops that life puts before us.

Argentines respond to the above mentality with the question why? Why do you need economic prosperity and to why must you achieve concrete goals? What are they for? What purpose do they serve? What's the point?

Many would say that they have different types of goals such as 'to enjoy life', 'have fun', 'do what they want to do'. And when they tell me this, it makes me think....Why are my goals more concrete and material? My goals are more about specific achievements like publishing a book, learning fluent Spanish, starting a business, becoming a PhD, teaching at the college level. By contrast, Argentines seem to have goals that are more like guiding principles, but not concrete ends. Their goals can be achieved or completed every day. Mine require me to work for the future, to constantly look forward. Neither goal is better or worse I suppose, but their way of looking at life seems to be more liberating than mine. Mine traps me in a direction and disallows me from feeling contentedness until I complete my goals. Theirs allow continual enjoyment and contentedness.

And so, I am the uptight American while they are the free flowing liberated Latinos.

I wonder to what extent I do try to exert too much control over my life, to what extent I put too much pressure on myself, to what extent I don't allow myself to have fun and be happy. I wonder if the goals that I set keep me from being happier. I wonder if the goals I set disallow me from changing my mind depending on how I change day to day or what I feel from one day to another. But, I also wonder if my sense of committment to people and ideas is admirable. I wonder if one day I will receive an end reward that is much better than the momentary day to day pleasure of Argentines. I wonder if this same concept, this mentality has kept their country from pulling itself out of the constant morass in which it seems to be stuck. Is this the same reason why the United States has been by contrast successful and relatively stable, albeit neurotic and disconnected?

In the end, a simple maxim (while boring, overused, and wimpy)-moderation-is probably the best way to go. There is definitely something to be learned from the liberating live-in-the-moment mentality of Argentines. I could definitely benefit by liberating myself from my ambitions. After all, you can't necessarily justify denying yourself happiness all your life when you might not even complete your goal or if you're not enjoying the process of attaining it. I could benefit by a bit more spontaneity, accepting that it is ok to follow a feeling or passion as opposed to following a completely structured path toward a goal. The process must be enjoyable and goals don't always have to be concrete-they can also be about enjoying life and doing what feels good.

All that said, I think back to the famous psychological study....Preschool kids are presented with cookies. The teacher says that the students can have the cookies at the end of class. Some of the kids end up disregarding the teachers instructions and taking the cookies before the end of class. Another group of kids waits until the end of class to get their cookies, as instructed- a study in delayed gratification. The kids are followed as part of a longitudinal study and many years later as adults, their lives and habits are analyzed. The kids who couldn't delay gratification, who took the cookies before their time, were most more likely to be working low paying jobs, on public support, or even in jail. On the other hand, the kids who were able to delay gratification were more likely to be professionals: doctors, lawyers, teachers.

Returning to the idea of planning, I think I would like to live in a country that plans, that delays gratification (although I think the U.S. has recently been more lucky than it has forward looking) and call me uptight and repressed, but I also want to be and I suppose just am one of those kids who waits for the cookie. I have to say, though, that living in AR is making me consider the value of occassionally enjoying the reward before I'm supposed to....

Argentina Thoughts and Comparisons I

One thing that I've learned about myself is that despite my efforts at not acting like a money grubbing capitalist, I am at least a serious consumer. That is, I spend a lot of time shopping, looking for the best prices, and paying attention to service and business practices. I believe that these instincts have not only been ingrained in me by my family, but also by having been raised in the United States. We are quite obviously a nation of serious consumers. Many of us spend our lives shopping. We are experts at uncovering the best deals. Businesses live by the motto that the customer is always right. Add to this that all the businesses of the world are competing for our business and the result is that our populous has become a mass of super consumers with a huge sense of entitlement. Shift focus thousands of miles to the South beyond the equator and the picture changes substantially.

In Argentina, people are far less consumer oriented than in the US. In AR, convenience seems to be the most important factor to consumers. If they can have something delivered to them or if they only have to walk a block away, that is best. Consumers here aren't as obsessed with price comparisons and are less likely to travel long distances for quality, service, and price than in the US. Further, business owners cater less to consumers. Many businesses aren't concerned if they upset a consumer or if that consumer never returns to do business with them. That is, the idea of repeat business is mostly foreign to the average AR business owner or employee in a business. Instead, they are concerned with both maintaining a sense of control over the consumer and in the money they can make on a particular day, not in the future.

As a result, my sense of good business practice as well as consumer entitlement chafes against AR businesses daily. It is one of my most frustrating and continual forms of culture shock. Let me provide a few examples.....

1. Less than a block away from my apartment there is a locutorio or internet cafe and call center. In the past I used this business very regularly when my internet wasn't working or when I needed to make a phone call and didn't want to use my cell. It got to the point that I knew the guy operating the place and was there on a very regular basis. Regardless of the fact that I was a regular paying client, the operator of the locutorio always seemd annoyed that I was walking through the door to give him business.

One day, after weeks of using this locutorio consistently, I stopped in to call my internet service provider for the umpteenth time to have my internet connection corrected. In the middle of my call, the phone simply stopped working and I was cut off from the Fibertel technician with whom I was talking through my internet problem. I quickly told the operator of the locutorio who walked silently over to the phone, checked the connection and quickly concluded that the phones weren't working for whatever reason. At that point, I shrugged and got up and began to leave the store. Before I could make it out of the building, the operator had blocked the doorway and was demanding payment. I responded that I couldn't pay because I hadn't received a service. My short conversation was cut off and therefore there was no reason I should pay for that. The operator shot back that I had been on the phone for 4 minutes and that I had to pay for it. I responded that you can't charge customers if you aren't providing the full service for which they are paying. But the operator insisted that I pay. He would not be persuaded. I then resorted to another form of logic. Look, I said, I live close to here and I'm here many times per week. If you make me pay today, I will never come back and I will tell everyone I know to avoid this locutorio. I will instead go to the locutorio down the street and give them my business. The unchanged look on his face told me that he couldn't care less. He wanted his money right there and then. He was worried about the day, the moment, and not my future repeat business. Upon realizing that he was immune to my business lesson, I said, ok, I'll pay you this 50 centavos today, but I will never come back here again. This is unfair, bad business, and I will tell all of my friends in the neighborhood not to come here. In response, the operator practically shouted, it is fair!! He didn't care about the fact that he would lose my and perhaps others business. All he cared about was that I had called him unjust or unfair....

2. There is a green grocery right next to the front door of my apartment building. In the past, I used this fruit stand a few times per week. The prices were pretty good and it was oh so convenient. One day, however, I realized I was being charged significantly different prices for the same items I had paid less for the previous day. On top of that, there were no signs advertising prices.... so they could basically charge whatever they wanted. To make matters worse, the operator would not allow me to pay in bills but instead insisted that I pay with monedas or coins (there is a shortage of these in BA). Now, if I were this guy, the son of the owner, I would do everything I could to treat the people who lived right next to my fruit stand well. These are the people most likely to do business in my establishment. Instead, he was messing with me, kind of taking advantage of me to the point that I decided that I didn't want to deal with him again unless it was just so convenient that I couldn't avoid it. The fact is that there are at least 5 other places in a one block radius where I can get the same products. As a result, I have never been back to the fruit stand right next to the front door of my apartment and if I can help it, I won't return.

These are only two examples but I could go on and on and I haven't yet been here for 7 months total. Some folks here and among my family have suggested that at least here the small business owners have a sense of control over their clients instead of in the U.S. where most small businesses have been run out of town by Walmart and other super centers. And while I agree to some extent, my opinion is that you go into business mainly for one reason-to make money. So, if you are going to act as if you don't want money or aren't interested in concepts like repeat business, you shouldn't be in the business world. You should do something more idealistic like become a teacher or professor or nurse or doctor.. But if you really want to make money, then you should swallow your pride and adhere to good business practices so you can do as well as possible. Here, however, there are plenty of businesses that just aren't interested in treating consumers well, obtaining repeat business, having their businesses recommended to others, returning calls, providing good service, being polite, and at the end of the day, in making money. The attitude of these businesses is that you will do business on their terms or you can take a hike.

And many consumers here don't seem to demand to be treated well. They will continue to frequent stores and businesses near to them because they have accepted this type of attitude from business owners and because it is convenient. There isn't as great a sense of consumer entitlement or control here and as a result, consumers can only shrug their shoulders when they are mistreated. There seem to be very few opportunities for recourse to punish poor business practices and not enough people hold businesses accountable for their poor treatment for it to make a difference.

I will say, however, that those businesses here that do offer consistently low prices as well as good service and treatment are always busy. So, there are enough consumers here willing to go out of their way to get the best price, quality, and service. In my opinion, however, there are not enough consumers of this nature to ensure that businesses change their ways. The culture is still one of accepting mistreatment and not holding businesses accountable.

If you talk to Argentines who have never spent a significant amount of time in another country, they will almost without a doubt defend their country until their last breath. They don't like foreigners, especially folks from the states, talking badly about their country. They are very prideful and so when I bring up issues like this, I am met with defensivess and hurt feelings. However, if you talk to someone who has lived in the states for a significant period of time and who has another perspective and can be more objective, it is possible to have a more sincere and frank discussion of why these differences exist.

The boss of my English teaching gig is one such guy. He spent over a year going to high school in Orlando, Florida. Upon having the aforementioned discussion with him, he completely agreed and seemed relieved to have met someone else who understands this. He believes that this attitude stems from something larger and asserts that Argentines don't have a sense of investment in the future. He believes that most want to leave the country to go back to Europe from whence they came and so, on the whole, the culture has never focused on the future of Argentina, but is instead more concerned about the present. He told me that many Argentines see themselves as Italian or Spanish, but not as Argentine (despite their apparent fervent pride in their country). As a result, people are not willing to accept a sense of community or functional patriotism or nationalism or a sense of bettering the country or creating a future here so that their children and childrens' children have a future here. Instead, they are interested in the moment, a momentary gain, enough to get through the day, with the future always being about getting away from Argentina (whether consciously or subconsciously, whether they have actual plans or not). He believes that this lack of concern or investment in the future permeates all aspects of life in AR, from the way people drive on the streets, to the way they litter freely, to the way they conduct business and treat each other. It is a sense of continual frustration to him. He sighted for instance that as part of his translation business, he often receives work from both US and Argentine employers. He says that US employers always pay him because they want to have a long term business relationship and they value his good service. On the other hand, in AR, businesses are much more likely to pay him once, but never again, knowing that if they mistreat him, they can simply move on to the next translator with whom they will do the same thing. That is, they are not interested in treating other people fairly, but instead want a momentary profit and are not as concerned about maintaining a long term relationship.

Argentina's relationshp with national pride seems to be related mostly to soccer and other sports. People here speak badly to each other about the country but foreigners are prohibited from doing so. In that sense, the country is like an abusive father: You talk bad about him all the time, but if someone else says something bad, they can take a hike. By the same token, Argentine's don't seem terribly interested in changing their behavior. Right now, it is every man for himself. And if one person tries to start acting differently, they are taken advantage of by everyone else and so they learn that in order to survive, they must act hard as well. The challenge for me is to not change my own behavior in the face of all this. I would like to be able to continue trusting people and to accept my sense of the way in which businesses ought to treat their clients. Maybe I'm holding onto an unncessary sense of consumer entitlement, but for me, it just makes sense....

Palin

Say what you want about Karl Rove.....I'll probably agree with you. I personally think that the guy has a huge chip on his shoulder. I don't think he cares at all about the future or people of the United States. Politics for him is a combination of chess and ultimate fighting. A game. And one at which he is undeniably a genius.

Sarah Palin. Why? Why would John McCain choose such a green running mate with such duffel baggage?

The simple answer is Karl Rove told him to.

Karl Rove is a master of political jiu jitsu.

In 2004, John Kerry's campaign focused on his service during Vietnam as his strength against George W. Bush, who more or less deserted from the Air National Guard. In response, Rove masterfully turned Kerry's strength into a weakness. Rove helped organize the devastating Swiftboat Veterans for errrr 'Truth' ads that collected dozens of veterans to refute the stories of Kerry's bravery, the ones for which he received a Silver Star and Purple Hearts. These men didn't even serve on Kerry's boat or close to him, but were somehow able to recall that Kerry had lied about his chivalry, that the stories of his bravery were a sham. Even though the men whom served on Kerry's swiftboat corroborated all of his stories (even the Republicans), the American public bought the former story and ignored the latter. Rove was able to organize a media frenzy that spent months questioning Kerry's stories of valor. As a result, Kerry could no longer focus on health care, education - issues that could have actually helped the country. The rest is history. Kerry loses and we were stuck with George W. Disaster for 4 more years.

4 years later, Rove is up to his old tricks. The strategy hasn't changed.

Barack Obama is an intelligent, thoughtful, poised, educated, worldly, and honorable guy. But none of this matters. The reason he attained popularity so quickly is that he's a great speaker, people think he's cool, pretty, are intrigued by his name, and he's the first serious black presidential candidate in history. This combination of factors made him a great media story.

What strategy did Karl Rove use to combat this?

Sarah Palin.

Yes, Sarah Palin was a huge risk, a hail mary pass as so many have referred to her. But a hail mary pass from Joe Montana to Jerry Rice (cerca 1990s)-one that has a good chance of working. The jiu jitsu is that Palin is everything Obama is, but on the hardcore conservative end of the spectrum. She's a great speaker (if you're a conservative audience), she's young, she's attractive, she's extremely savvy, and most importantly, she has a great story. Americans are intrigued by Alaska and previously knew nothing about Sarah Palin. Add to this that she has 5 children and her husband is a dog sledding(or snow mobiling) champion and you have the makings of a media feeding frenzy. Never mind that she is under investigation for having fired the chief of police to settle a family affair or that her teenage daughter is 5 months pregnant or that her husband was a member of a political party that called for Alaska to cede from the union.

The Palin pick was also used to fire up conservatives. Sara is fire and brimstone and McCain is not. The evangelical base was not enamored by McCain's one time moderate credentials but they love Palin. And, Palin's sex alone peels away a minority of former Hillary backers, not to mention makes it so that she would be the first female vice president, meaning that Obama's election wouldn't be the only historical first to come out of the election. In spite of these counterbalances against Obama's strengths, Palin was still a risky pick. Rove knew then that the execution of the pick would be key....

If you're Karl Rove, you don't have much to prove? He got George W. Bush elected not once, but twice. Only a genius could do that. Now, he's having fun with us. He has undertaken one of his greatest jiu jitsu moves of all time, something that absolutely shouldn't work...And he's seeing if he can pull it off. It's as if he's lining up to kick the longest field goal of all time, preparing a dive that incorporates more flips and spins than has ever been achieved.

Upon picking Palin, the media immediately focused on the negatives and perplexities of the pick. Rove must have anticipated this. What did he do? He used it as an opportunity to attack Obama through 'defending' Sarah Palin. That is, he directed the full force of the conservative media to say that the Obama camp was spreading false rumors and attacking Palin's family, even though Obama and Biden had both said that Palin's family was hands off. The 'defense' as attack method worked and offset the attention on Palin's substantial baggage. It gave her enough time to tread water until she unleashed her secret weapon-she's a great speaker (to conservative audiences). From her convention speech on, the media forgot about her baggage and instead became enamored in her story. Score one for Karl Rove. A masterfully executed cuadruple lindy. The fanfair and popularity left Obama like helium from a baloon and suddenly the hottie from Alaska with the dog sledding husband took center stage. Since that point in time, the election has been all about Palin all the time. Never mind that health care in the U.S. is a disaster. Never mind that it costs a fortune to send a kid to college. Never mind that our trade debt is obscene. Never mind that the taxpayers were just forced to bail out badly behaving banks, lenders, and insurance companies to the tune of trillions of dollars. What's apparently important is the meanstreak hockey mom from Alaska (although I admit that before that what was important was the cool hip young black guy from Chicago).

The Palin jiu jitsu undoubtedly worked for a time. It knocked the Obama campaign off guard, but in the meantime, the U.S. banking crisis took center stage and Americans were forced back to reality. Now, it is unsure whether Palin will be able to carry McCain to victory as her pick was intended.

My prediction is that from this point on, Palin will be downplayed. The media seems to have lost some interest in her for the time being and the focus has shifted once again to her baggage. In short, Palin has served her purpose and is about to overstay her welcome in the limelight. The question now is what will be Rove's next move? Or, what will be the October surprise?

If McCain does win, though, and the oldest man ever to assume the presidency must relinquish his duties to the second in command, Rove's little game will put in charge of the most powerful country on the Earth a woman who was until quite recently mayor of a town of 6000 (in Alaska) and whose foreign policy experience consists of being able to see Alaska from her home. And this just because Rove needed a quick boost in the polls, not because he cared at all about Palin's ability to lead the country. Rove is no patriot. And despite McCain's amazing service to the country during Vietnam, I'm beggining to question any more whether he is.

Leer

I took Spanish classes in 8th, 9th, and 10th grades. It was a requirement in my school system to take 3 years of a foreign language and so I did what I could to complete my obligation as soon as possible.

In college, I eschewed Spanish and all other foreign language classes. Instead, I indulged in things I was passionate about and that were more or less easy for me like psychology and creative writing. To be honest, I was afraid of taking foreign languages in college. I was sure that the classes would be extremely difficult and that they would pull my GPA down and ruin my chances of maintaining my scholarships and or getting new ones. In short, I more or less didn't believe that I was smart enough to succeed in foreign languages in college.

Spanish had always come somewhat easily to me in high school so I'm not sure why I was frightened away from it in college. In any case, upon starting my career as a school psychologist, I made a list of personal and career goals, one of which was becoming fluent in Spanish. At the time I wrote this goal, it was like a New Years resolution-a nice idea with little chance of being carried out.

People ask how I ever got the idea to go to Argentina last winter to immerse myself in Spanish. And so I guess it all started with writing that goal and growing increasingly close to age 30. Then came a short trip to Italy with my brother and sister that stoked my interest in travel. This was followed by the realization that I was incredibly bored during the summers of not working in my job and the idea that I should take advantage of them by travelling.

So, I began researching ways to learn Spanish in a Spanish speaking country. Spain immediately came to mind due to its 1st world status and membership in the European Union. It would have been a safe and fun place to visit, albeit expensive due to the dollar's precipitous fall against the Euro. Mexico was an option, but it didn't intrigue me and I was concerned about health and safety standards. I considered cities throughout South America, but the only one about which I received overwhelmingly positive feedback was Buenos Aires. No one I talked to had a bad thing to say about the city and my Argentine friend, Marcelo, was overwhelmingly enthusiastic about my plan to visit for the summer. So, I googled, researched schools, found one, met a host family through my school, and off I went.

I spent the U.S. summer of 2007 taking 4-6 hours of Spanish classes per day in Buenos Aires and the rest is history.... Now I'm back for a year, already more or less fluent in Spanish and, I hope, getting better every day. I think it's fair to say that I reached my goal sooner than I had anticipated, although the measures I took to get there were a bit extreme.

Although I have learned to read basic newspaper and magazine articles in Spanish, I had never found it enjoyable. My ritual last summer was reading Newsweek in Spanish while riding a stationary bike at the gym. I had to basically force myself to do so and always carried a pocket dictionary to look up words whose meaning I couldn't glean through context. It was tedious and most of the articles were trash so I never before was enamored with the idea of reading in Spanish.

During my year of work back in the states, I carried on instant messenger friendships with conversation partners throughout South America and Spain. I spent almost 2 hours of every day chatting in Spanish and without even really realizing it, my ability to read Spanish improved remarkably. Upon returning to Buenos Aires, I continued to avoid reading in Spanish and instead read magazines that my parents had schleped down here for me. Reading The New Yorker or Kiplingers was like candy. Sure, I enjoyed it, but it was unhealthily separating me from the culture and language here.

About 2 weeks ago, I resolved to attempt reading literature here as a means of improving my Spanish. I sensed that my skills were slipping away due to working most of the day in English. I had to find a way to continue to gain Spanish skills. That's partly why I'm down here. So, I decided to start reading books for young adults. A book for a 10-12 year old Argentine kid should be readable, I thought.

One day on my way back from the butcher shop, I walked to what seemed like a cheap used bookstore and sheepishly asked the owner if she could recommend a book for adolescents. She lead me to a small section and pulled out two books. I chose the one with less writing in it and bigger print, figuring that I had to start with something that wouldn't frustrate me, something I might even enjoy.

That same day, I carried my book off to the city's botanical gardens to read in the sun. I brought my dictionary along, but quickly realized that I didn't need it. I found the experience of reading fiction in Spanish exhilerating. I could picture the characters in my head and hear them speaking, just as if it were English. The story was about a wealthy Argentine family who lived in San Isidro (A wealthy northern province near the city). The family of four, parents and two boys lead a reasonably storeybook Argentine life until the older prodigal son contracts HIV. The book is what we would call a problem novel, very common in the U.S. These books became prevalent in the 60s and 70s through novels by authors like S.E. Hinton (The Outsiders), Robert Cormier (The Chocolate Wars), and Paul Zindel (The Pigman). Basically, the main character or characters are brought into conflict with some type of very concrete and serious life event such as death, gang violence, class wars etc. The outcomes of these novels are rarely happy and instead function to provide a dose of reality and to help adolescents prepare to deal with these types of difficult situations that they will no doubt at one point or another encounter. At the end of this particular book, the main character learns to accept his older brother's condition and to improve his relationship with him inspite of it. The main character has to go through a process of seeing past his brother's scary illness to the core of who his brother truly is.

I finished reading my first book in Spanish in a matter of days and was off to a different bookstore for another. Emboldened by my success, I searched through the adult section, looking maybe this time for an adult book translated from English into Spanish, so that at least I would recognize the phrasings and style of language. In the end, I settled on a small book written by a British author about turning 30 years old-perfect for a 29-year-old guy like myself. As I had anticipated, this book proved slightly more challenging, but within 5 days, I had finished it too, without relying much on the dictionary.

On my previous trip to the bookstore, I had spied one of my favorite books of all times-Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe. I love survival stories and this is the ultimate. I kind of see myself as Robinson Caruso in AR, starting a life in a new an alien place without family and having to learn more or less how to live all over again. The only problem with this book is that it is extremely long and written in an older English style, which makes its translation into Spanish that much more difficult. However, the translation is by Julio Cortazar, one of the most famous Argentine authors. For me, this sealed the deal. I have learned from my previous interest in Russian litarature that the translation is extremely important. I have read two different translations of The Brothers Karamazov and found them to be two very different experiences. So, when I found out that one of my favorite books had been translated by a literary genius, it was for me like finding a giant Mario Batali made piece of Tiramisu on a half off sale at a bakery 3 blocks away from my house.

So now, I'm starting book number 3, a behemoth Spanish translation of one of the great classics. Reading in Spanish has become my new favorite hobby and I don't feel guilty doing so. After all, not only am I reading, I'm also improving my Spanish.

I must be about to turn 30, though sometimes I feel more like 50. I have no idea when my favorite activity went from climbing sheer rock faces in Oregon to sitting on a bench in a garden on a sunny Sunday and reading books in Spanish....