"Independent Living: Finding Home"

Of course, before the next afternoon rolled around, Mary Andrews volunteered her help again. She'd heard back about another pension she thought I should see. I figured it couldn't hurt.

The neighborhood wasn't too far from the center, but immediately struck me as residential. Better, it'd be an easy decision if the place wasn't in competition with the first pension.

I was greeted at the door by an enthusiastic, if not eccentric older woman, her face was overly made-up and her head was topped with a furry cheetah-print hat. She immediately started talking my ear off, throwing out jokes left and right, as she lead me up the stairs to the pension. The main room was well-lit, cozy and cluttered, with walls covered in framed photographs of what seemed like hundreds of people, announcements, and signs in a variety of sizes and colors. A TV was blaring.

The Señora, Luisa, went on about how she heard California was beautiful, she had a friend who moved there, on the beach, and loved it. She showed me the room, which was full of light, tiny, and adorable...but with bunk beds! And another person's stuff covering half the room.

Damn, I'd been afraid of this when I was quoted $350 pesos for the bed. I told her I was looking for a single. After fussing over it for a minute, she decided she could rent out another double to me for $700 pesos per month. She showed me this room, which also had a nice window, but was large and impersonal looking. Definitely much larger than one person would need.

She continued to show me the rest of the house. The bathroom was very nice, the kitchen crowded and of questionable cleanliness, and the whole time, she was never quiet, talking about how great the pension was, who the other residents were (it was a co-ed pension), her life, and making slipping in jests and quips with every line.

We sat down to talk about the details, and rather than the first lady, who spoke to me like I was one of her charges, or children, Luisa spoke to me as an adult or equal. She explained no visitors were allowed because she'd had bad experiences in the past. She didn't know my friends, but even if I trusted them, and she let them come in, then everyone else would want to bring all their friends, and soon enough, someone would slip through with sticky fingers or other unsavory habits.

This seemed fair enough, and I felt sure she'd be willing to make a brief exception for a few wonderful Californians who might visit me and be interested in a quick tour of the Argentine living situation...because it certainly is something to see! (And she adores people, I can't imagine her turning down the chance to meet new people and see what these Americans are all about.)

And Luisa was totally sweet, when I told her I wanted to go talk to my director and think about it, she agreed this was her preference too, to be sure I wanted to be there."Take a walk, take your time. Let me know when you decide, if you're interested." The other woman had already commenced to calling me incessantly in the last 12 hours to question whether I wanted the place.

The only issue was the rooms. My roommate was an "absolute angel" Luisa assured me, but I still doubted my ability to live with someone--and the room was tiny for two people! On the other hand, the single room wasn't very attractive and at $700 pesos, it was expensive. The single room at the other pension was only $500. I wasn't crazy about paying $700 for a room in a pension.

"Why don't you just try sharing the room? She's never home, and she's so sweet, I'm sure you can't possibly have any type of problem with her," Luisa assured me, "She's a student, she works, and then she's always out with friends. She is really never here. And, if for whatever reason, you still REALLY want your own room, you can switch at any time."

She had a point, and after speaking with our program director, Marcela, she agreed. She probably isn't home a lot, she wouldn't want to be. Neither of us could tell if she really was such an angel, but I could always move...either to the other room, or a new place if it didn't work out.

And so it was decided. I packed my bags that night, in preparation for my move to the "L'Auberge Argentine..."