Lame

Ok so I was awful and didn't really blog after my Spring break. But for good reason- my time here has gotten better and better and so sitting at my computer blogging hasn't always been a priority. The hard part is, there are ideas and things I feel compelled to express whirring through my head all day, but there isn't always a way to articulate or even jot them down. Chile was beautiful- and such a change from this unique-to-South-America city. Valparaiso was exactly what one (or maybe just me) typically thinks of when considering this region- colorful houses, ocean smells, hilly cobblestone streets...

That isn't to say that Buenos Aires is any less authentic of course, but getting out of the city (thank you fresh air), only magnifies its strangeness. Especially with having learned more about Argentine history/society, one sees that Buenos Aires is a environmentally and culturally unique place. No where else are there this many buildings, avenues, cellphones, billboards. No where else do they speak Castellano, the local dialect that some other regions even consider snobby. No where else is there such a high concentration of foreigners or Argentines of Italian, German, and other Western European descent. In its ways of being it is also extremely contradictory. At the same time that portenos imitate New York or French fashion trends, eat at McDonalds, and watch a consistenly English-language cue of new releases at the cinema, they consider the USA, in Che Guavera's words, an "enemy to mankind". The illogicality and randomness of institutions, creative works, and mentality here has ceased to surprise me. Ironically, that in itself is an extremely "Argentine" way of thinking- to expect the unexpected. Jorge Luis Borges was one of Argentina's most famous writers, and he was obsessed with the irrationality of reality. I find he was right- nothing makes sense, and when it does, it is the exception to the BA standard. You can come to love that quirkiness though. I'm going to miss the well-trained dogs that are exactly that because people here have the sense to treat their pets like animals and not little children. I won't miss seeing the 5-8 homeless people sleeping on the blocks at night, but when I see them getting shooed by the NYC police I'm sure I will recall the tolerant and often generous attitude of BA's passerby. I will miss the ridiculous exchange rate that allows me to get steak dinners (with wine) for as little as $15. On the other hand, I won't miss receiving ONLY $100-peso billetas from the ATM's only to have whoever has to change them look at me with contempt, as if it's my fault the banks horde the smaller denominations...

I made an exhausting shopping trip on Sunday to buy little knick-knacks for myself and loved ones in an attempt to capture some of the BA essence. It's quite impossible really, as I can't bring home the material icons of steak or tango. Sure, I'm loaded up on wine and took advantage of the beautiful, sometimes tacky artisan fairs, but objects can't personify an experience. The last thing I purchased was a set of magnets, one of which simply read, in national blue and white colors, "Buenos F***ing Aires". It seems crass, and my friend (who promptly got one for herself) stated as such. But it doesn't have to be negative, because its true. How many times have I stood in amazement, or humor, or disgust, or awe, or excitement, and murmured those exact words? Countless times. Happily and with relief, but also regrettably, with knowledge that the yet unknown, yet misunderstood, yet tasted, lie in existence around one of the unnumerable corners that drip with restless history and the air conditioning fluid from three stories up, I leave this city. Nos vemos, Buenos Aires, nos vemos.

TO PATAGONIA!