To-Do List, Friday, October 31, 2008

1. Finish reading 250-page report on adolescent drug use in Argentina.
2. Translate lyrics of Marilyn Manson's Antichrist Superstar for Susana (therapist).
3. Finalize letter of inquiry (in Spanish) for Fundación Navarro Viola and mail.
4. Quiz patients as they prepare lunch on English kitchen vocabulary/present tenses.
5. Read article on street youth in Buenos Aires.
6. Stop procrastinating, and begin with #1!
   

Getting Physical

(Sorry, if you're disappointed, this post is about the gym.)

The first thing you notice about Argentine gyms is that they have a garagey-high school gym feel to them. Strictly utilitarian, with little concern for appearances. However, they're definitely not cold places. (Don't let my pictures fool you; I just felt a little funny taking pictures of people working out when the gym was full.)
When you sign up (which requires a first and last name and $50-60 pesos), the person at the front desk will also get you started on a workout. Depending on your desires (and the gym), this can include walking you through a full-body strength training session, or simply helping you program a cardio machine.

They're similar to our personal trainers, presumably with similar training--they'll correct your form, show you new exercises, etc. I haven't heard them offer any health/diet advice (personal trainers usually give advice on what to eat, supplements, etc.). And you don't get the individual attention that comes with the cost of a personal trainer.

The first gym I went to, when I lived with my host family, was a bit disappointing. It was small and basic, but this lead the trainers to give everyone the same set of exercises, and you often had to wait a while in order to use the machine they wanted you to use. One of their strength workouts took an hour to an hour and a half! (Normally, I could accomplish this on my own in 30-45 minutes.)

The second problem I ran into at that first gym was when I accidently ostracized myself. =) As I said, the gyms are friendly places, and as Argentines are friendly people, they greet everyone with a kiss. So, when you enter a gym, regardless of sweat saturation or BO, you kiss everyone. The front desk, the trainers, the people you know, and the people that the people you know are talking to. I didn't kiss, I didn't take the trainers' advice on a routine, and pretty soon I felt invisible. (When an employee enters, as they usually know most everyone, it can take them a half hour to work the crowd, as they go around kissing everyone--neither germ-phobes nor sweat-phobes can succeed here.) It was a pretty sad time, as I tried to be as friendly as possible, but eventually just stopped working out there.


Luckily, I found a gym close to my pension that I love (Zoo Gym, pictured). The people are a lot more serious about working out, and as a result tend to know what they're doing. So, many are capable of designing their own routines and using the trainers for spotting and adjusting the often finicky, archaic equipment. (There's two elliptical machines, one feels like it's operating over gravel, the other feels a bit like a horseback ride. Of the three treadmills, one is stuck in an uphill position, one accelerates but doesn't slow down, and the third is in decent shape.)

Needless to say, the gym would be shut down with pending lawsuits after about 5 minutes of operation in the US. One of the trainers, Pablo, has a dream of going to LA and visiting a Gold's Gym, like he sees in all the movies.


The final thing to note is the "water fountain"...no, I haven't seen an actual fountain here...(I wonder what the locals would think of the concept), but they have a water cooler with plastic cups available to drink from. Great, in theory. In practice, gym-goers like to share the little plastic cups (they're too lazy to get them from the front desk? the desk is out? they can't remember which one was theirs'?), so any of the white cups pictured has been used and up for grabs for a second use.

As Pablo told me while he was dreaming of Gold's Gym--"It's unsanitary, everything is completely unsanitary." And yet, aside from higher-than-average rates of hepatitis (which could also be attributed to a lack of vaccinations), the country goes on, seemingly unaffected. And you can get a good workout and make friends for less than $20/month.

Argentine Bachelors Know How to Cook!

Chalk it up to the lack of fast-food restaurants here, or the enormous difference in cost between eating out and eating in, but even those who could afford it tend to cook at home here.

Anyway, I actually took this picture because it's so typical of the guys' hairstyles here...80's anyone?

My friend, Ale (Like Alejandro, as opposed to cerveza).

Spring is here!

Drinking beer in Plaza Italia with some friends on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

"I love you, man!"

I found the Argentine habit of kissing everyone you meet brought up some interesting questions regarding professional boundaries in dealing with clients and sexual harassment laws in the US.

At El Bohío, the clinicians do greet their clients with the standard "beso" and now that I understand the tradition a bit more fully, it would be rude not to greet them this way, most likely undermining treatment, by not offering them this basic acknowledgment of respect/approval/support. Of course, I imagine it can become a bit sticky when working with the mentally ill--on a hygiene/disease level--so far, that hasn't been much of an issue with our three clients.

However, last week, the boundaries became muddled for me again, when one of the clients was going through a particularly rough time. He had several very emotional talks with the therapists throughout the week, but the interesting piece was that at the end of each, they finished with long embraces, and the therapists saying "te quiero mucho, te quiero," which in this case is probably approximate to "I care about you, take care of yourself," but more literally translates to "I love you so much. I love you."

Disturbing to my American sensibilities, but totally appropriate, given the clients' appreciative reaction.

La Verdulería

This is a shot of where I buy my produce (the palm tree in the doorway leads to the indoor shop). Through the winter, there's been very few fruits--apples, bananas, pears, strawberries, and lots of oranges! (Nothing exotic.)

The vegetable selection is always high on chard (much cheaper than spinach, which is also here), broccoli, cauliflower, red peppers and tomatoes, carrots, potatoes (dozens of varietals), onions, garlic, fresh basil (dried doesn't seem to exist here), beets and radishes, mushrooms (expensive!), butternut squash, eggplant, lettuce and cabbages, artichokes, and zapallitos (little, round green squash, the size of tennis balls that are beloved by the Argentines, and very similar to zucchini).

Today, I noticed asparagus is coming in, so hopefully we'll be getting some new options in for spring! However, the climate appears to be similar enough, it's all the same stuff we get at home.

Fitting In--At least attempting it...

I was telling my friend, Jason, today that I'm constantly on my toes here--encountering the extraordinary and making friends with the absurd--or attempting to. These days, the overabundance of the absurd is a bit overwhelming.

Interactions with the Señora aside, my desk at work was moved from the therapists' office to the administrative office this week. Although it is quieter which is helpful for my research/grantwriting, it's cut my already-limited contact with the therapeutic side of things even further.

Later, I observed a staff meeting taking place while I was left alone in the office. I'm feeling a bit disconnected.

Today, I was told we wouldn't be eating lunch together anymore. The administrative staff would wolf down something quickly, so they could get back to work at their desks. Meanwhile, the clients and therapeutic staff had a more leisurely and lunch.

And there it was. Aside from my one-hour English class each week (which has been going horribly, because one hour is not enough time to make progress and everyone is getting frustrated)...aside from this, I'm at my desk all day.

So, I came to Buenos Aires to watch the Vice Presidential debate. I just had to see Palin in action, and the Democrats Abroad group was hosting a debate party at a bar in the city. I got into the city a bit early, since it was easiest to come straight from work, but I didn't realize how early, since they said 8:00. Once I got there, I realized it didn't start until 10. And it was in a neighborhood called "Palermo Hollywood" (as opposed to Old Palermo, Upper Palermo, or any other Porteño neighborhood)...on a Thursday night, which is almost as big for going out as a Saturday night.



Still, I arrive at the Sacramento at 8, expecting a laid-back pub full of American expats with their pints, and instead find myself in an empty (as it's still way-early) yet über-trendy disco, in my all-too casual cords and sweater from work.


Bueno, I need to eat something if we won't get out before midnight, so I stroll out in search of a bite. As though I'd only arrived in Argentina hours ago, I'm commiting major cultural crimes, and am so locked into my American way of doing things, I don't know how to stop myself...

• I'm alone--Argentines are such social creatures, you almost never see them out alone, unless they're in the process of going from Point A to Point B.
• I'm underdressed--While Porteños dress up more than we do, in this neighborhood, on a Thursday night, my clothes that were so comfy at work now feel like something I pulled off my closet while blindfolded.
• I'm early--Restaurants haven't opened yet, or the few that have are still empty. Assuming they'd seat me by myself...and that I wouldn't feel like a leper sitting on my own. What makes this more tragic is that Palermo has some of the best restaurants in the city.

For a desperate moment, I contemplate the McDonald's back on Santa Fe, then seek out an empanadas shop. But alas, all that appears are pancho stands--hotdogs. I contemplated getting a super-pancho, minus the pancho. Some stands offer 30 or more toppings.

Finally, I sought respite in a theater cafe, which seemed to serve food and a beer, the Velma Cafe...now that the beer is almost gone, am I ready to return to an all-too glamorous reality on the streets of Hollywood?

Next in line?

This came through on a mailing list I belong to for Buenos Aires newcomers...it cracked me up, because it's so typical of bureaucracy in developing countries. A DNI is a national identification card (and necessary for everything associated with daily living)...maybe it'll make you feel better the next time you have to deal with the DMV...

I applied for my DNI last July here in Entre Rios. I was told I would have it within a year. Well, a year came and went and I was told to wait three more months. That if it hasn't come by then, I will have to "hacer el reclamo." I went back this week and the office told me that the Registro Civil is on strike and is not sending the DNI's to the satellite offices. They told me to call the office in Parana and see if by chance they had it, and if not, to call the main office in Buenos Aires. The office in Parana has not received it yet. So I am trying to figure out the correct number to call in Buenos Aires. Does anyone know? Is it the 011-4393-0566 number? If that is the case, do they usually answer the phone? We had a hard time actually getting a hold of someone on the phone in Parana. I am actually traveling to Buenos Aires tomorrow or Thursday. Would it be better to go there in person to check the status of it? If so, would I have to have an appointment to do that?

I apologize for all the questions, but I am somewhat at a loss here. I appreciate any help!

Miguel

My Keys

It occured to me you might like to see my keys, since they're not typical of the American style.
The one with the purple dot is the one I was missing that infamous night. The pink plastic keychain is given out as advertising by all locksmiths. It has the name and address of the locksmith, in case you need more keys.

Weekly Update

Last week was the official start of spring, and appropriately enough, spring-time weather with lots of sunshine!

Being in the house was challenging, as the Señora has decided to give me daily lectures on things I'm doing wrong--or could be doing better--or if nothing else, things other people are doing wrong that make it so difficult to run a pension! Monday, there was no hot water again, because she left for an hour, and someone must have used the shower the entire time.

Tuesday, I was closing the doors too hard again. (Although I'm not aware of my own massive strength, she reports her doors tremble in fear every time I approach.)

Wednesday, someone had stolen the can opener (equally likely, it has fallen or been lost in the kitchen). Either way, pensioners are terrible, to be sure.) Except me, I'm "la muñeca," the doll, or if she's feeling particularly affectionate (and I haven't closed the doors too loudly that day), "la muñequita," akin to "the little doll."

However, Thursday, I got locked out. I came home to make dinner, and found a second door, inside the first closed and locked. I was unable to enter, with no one else home and no money. It was one of those days. My cellphone was also turned off because I hadn't added money to the prepaid account in over a month. Yeah, they can do that. I had money in the account, so I didn't think I needed to add more. Yup, you gotta add it every month, regardless.

Back at the house, the Señora had locked this extra door in order to protect our safety. Someone (a friend or enemy of the policeman, presumably the one living with us) had a reason to want to break in. I'm never clear on her perceived threats, and she never really explains them, except to say, "Pobrecita, you just don't understand what things are like here!" She forgot she had never given me a key to this door.

Friday, she essentially wasn't talking to me, being upset that I had gotten upset over her minor mistake.

Saturday, she made a full-recovery, ogling my straightened hair, the color, and finally explaining to me that the freezer was her domain, not for the pensioners--and that I needed to be more careful with the fridge doors, they should be closed gently, or else I'd break them.

Luckily, work has finally found a rhythm, and after weeks of doing nothing (or feeling like I was doing a lot of work to accomplish very little), I got some help from The Foundation Center, and now have October lined up with how-to webinars, as well as tons of resources to go through in preparation for writing my grant proposals. This has also lead to me a list of information I'll need, which I now have to collect.

Outside of that, I've been taking a Pilates reformer class a couple times a week, in addition to hitting the gym (note to self: write an entry about Argentine gyms), trying to work off the pounds that were piled on me during the stay with my lovely host family.



I also started some private Spanish lessons to tighten up my weak spots, my tutor's name is Florencia, and I'm totally stoked on her! She is an English teacher here for a private school, and also gives private English and Spanish lessons out of her home.

The other volunteers and I have been really impressed at how well many Argentines speak English--many whom have never been out of the country, and after talking to her, I understand why.

In order to be accepted for a university-level English program, they must have studied the equivalent of 8 years of English and pass a full-time, month-long course which ends with an extensive exam.

(In Argentina, university itself is generally made up of only a major course of study. So in a 4 year program, you're studying four years, full-time in your subject, as opposed to the American system where you spend most of the second two years studying your major, and very little of the first two. However, programs don't have a standard 4 year degree. The architecture program can be completed within 6 years, but averages 10 years to completion. The psychology program is 6 years. Masters programs don't seem to exist as such, rather a program is intended to give you all the formal education needed for a career in the field.)

Florencia said many native English speakers come here, expecting it to be easy to find work teaching university English, and are surprised when they're not chosen. With the intensive training English majors undergo here, focusing on not just understanding the language but grammar and usage, as well as being fluent in Spanish and having learned English...they are undoubtedly more qualified fluent than a random native speaker.



Then there's the partying, which seems to be the best way to deal with the weekends, when everything else is closed. =) Since this last weekend was sunny, the plazas were full, everyone revelling in the sun and drinking maté. But partying from dinner (even if dinner is at 10) until 7 a.m. really makes for a day of little daylight and downtime (especially if you wake up with a hangover). And that's a week for me, A-Z.