Three Incredible Chicas

When I first decided to come to Argentina through the IFSA Butler program, I was determined to meet and hang out solely with Argentine friends for the purpose of learning Spanish. This was of course before I realized that:

• ·         Argentines speak very quickly

• ·         Argentines have a very unique accent that is difficult to understand

• ·        I don’t understand how anything works here

• ·         My level of Spanish really IS at the fourth grade level

• ·         I’m very shy when trying to speak a second language

All these realizations added up to one thing, wanting any friend! Luckily I was blessed instead with three.

Yona, Lorri, and Alexandra have become my lifelines here in Argentina. They:

• ·         Speak Spanish at a level I can mostly understand

• ·         Teach me what I don’t understand

• ·         Are happy to figure out how things work here with me (and laugh hilariously at ourselves when we mess it up)

• ·         Allow me to vent when my brain is exhausted of Spanish

• ·         Provide me an incredible ab work out with all the laughing I’ve been doing (see photos for examples)

Alexandra is from New York, Yona is from New Mexico, and Lorri from North Carolina. We all come to the table with different strengths and ways to learn from each other. For example Yona’s the best at Spanish and making Argentine friends, Lorri’s the best at making any moment hilarious, and Alexandra is always looking out for us all whilst dancing constantly. I bring the mountaineering and trip planning expertise which results in trips like this past weekend to Menzano Historicó where we laughed constantly, met some Argentine men, and danced todo al tiempo. It was definitely quite the weekend.

One of my favorite stories from the trip was actually as we were leaving, but to fully understand the story, I suggest you watch the following video to understand some of the differences between Argentina and the US. Just substitute the US for the EU and Argentina for Italia, and pay special attention to the part about the “queue.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzQuuoKXVq0

In case you were unable to load the video, basically Argentines do not abide by standard US “line rules.” As in waiting in them. Instead, they are very good at the “forma fila” part, but not so good at staying in line. This phenomenon resulted in one of the most hilarious dramas the four of us have had yet.

 

The Actors:

Leading lady – Alexandra, who’s about 5 foot and thus casually known around Mendoza as “la nenita” (the little girl)

Supporting Actress – Myself, who has a tendency to be aggressive and take control of situations (but you already knew that)

Chorus – Yona and Lorri dying of laughter the whole time

Antagonist – One 300 pound man trying to get on the bus.

Story: 

I had decided that the four of us should get to the bus station to head home about 20 minutes prior to when the bus was scheduled to arrive for fear of the crowds that would likely be thinking the same thing. Sure enough, we were near the front of the line, but I just knew, looking at the crowd of people behind us, it was going to be a bit of a fight to actually keep our status as “near the front.”

Sure enough, only 30 minutes late, the bus finally shows up and the ruckus began. Everyone surged forward to the open bus doors (a gap about 4 feet wide) and tried shoving their way onto the vehicle, a process made slightly safer by the driver taking tickets and making change at the driver’s seat. Otherwise I’m sure we would have been trampled.

Determined to keep our place in “line” I started shouldering my way towards the doors, Alexandra, Lorri, and Yona in tow. “This is the closest I’ve ever been to these people!” I shout, starting the first bout of a series of uncontrollable laughter from the four of us. Finally I reach the bus and grab hold of the left railing, successfully blocking the stream of bodies trying to push their way onto the bus. Ahead of me is the antagonist, the huge 300 pound man (as a sidenote a very odd sight indeed as many people here are very fit), who is literally taking up the full 4 feet of doorway. It was just the break I needed actually.

Keeping my body turned against the crowd, I look down at Alexandra and say, “Ok nenita, we gotta get you on this bus!” thinking my friend would undoubtedly not make it through the throng otherwise. “Once this guy moves, I’m pushing you forward since I can hold them back!” Yes. I had a game plan. Yona and Lorri were already in fits of laughter.

And, just as planned, when our 300 pound friend moved one stair forward, I pushed the crowd back and pulled Alexandra toward the stairs… maybe a bit too fervently as she smooshed cheek first into his upper thigh and lower butt. Yona and Lorri completely dissolved into laughter and a few Argentine locals joined in with the hilarity as we all watched poor Alexandra waving frantically to find the railing whist attached at the face to this guys’ bulk, pressed there by the crowd.

Before too long the guy moved another stair up and I successfully got Alexandra on the bus, but not before we all had tears in our eyes from laughing so much, Argentines included. Alexandra was a total sport about it of course, and it remains one of our favorite stories to tell (the second will come in my next blog post).

Needless to say, I’m ecstatic to have met these girls and I’m so lucky to be experiencing Argentina with them. More stories to come!

 

-Lisa en Argentina

It’s not Photoshop... It’s the Andes!

Since coming here, I’ve had the goal of making it up into the mountains at least once every weekend. Ambitious? Probably so, but so far I’ve done just that and wanted to give some of the highlights of those various excursions here. (Warning, this may be a longer blog as a result).

I’ve also tried to do my best to photograph the scenery here, which never ceases to leave me speechless. I’ll wake up from a nap on the bus, turn to look out the window, and my jaw drops at the sight. Mountains, valleys, rivers, rocks, canyons… the vistas are just so astounding. I’ve decided the best way to describe this range of mountains is “violent.” When you think about the tectonic action happening underneath Chile that has created this range, it’s exactly that, and has resulted in some of the most intense cliff faces, craggy spires, and jutting rocks I have ever seen. The mountains are naked of trees, which seems to make their intensity that much more raw. My Rockies seem so much more tranquil after visiting this range and hopefully you can tell why through my photographs…

Las Termas

We visited a hot springs in a nearby town (about an hour south west) that boasted beautiful natural pools among the stunning setting of an Andean valley. Hot springs are fairly frequent along the range (again due to the violent tectonic action happening below) and the ones we visited served for a very relaxing, enjoyable day for under $20US. You can see the setting and how much my friends and I enjoyed it in the pictures at left and right.

Las Leñas

 

Dubbed the best skiing in South America, Las Leñas was a huge destination for me coming to Argentina. Unfortunately, however, the Andes have had the same snow season Colorado just suffered through and we unfortunately couldn’t partake in the terrain which Las Leñas is famous for – specifically enormous chutes funneling down from the top of the peaks. Instead, we dabbled with the other tourists, most of which had very questionable skiing ability (one guy completely forgot to get off the lift).

Welcome to the South Face (the black dot is a person)

One of the highlights of the resort was an unexpected thrill for my friend Ryan and I whilst trying to get on a ski lift. You see, we ski up to the lift, scan our passes, then notice that the ground a few feet ahead is moving. It’s not snow. It’s a conveyor belt. Baffled by this concept we both start hollering in English about this new absurdity whilst my German friend Sabastein looks at us wondering what all the commotion is about (apparently this is normal in Germany). We got on the lift fine, (though Ryan thought for sure we were going to fall off the end of the conveyor belt before the lift picked us up) and after recovering dubbed it, “the magic carpet.” We went on that lift a few times more just for kicks and giggles.

One last look back at the resort

By the end of the day, Ryan and I went hunting for something more interesting than watching tourists crash on bunny slopes (then casually skiing around them), and found a challenge in The South Face. Sorry North Face, your branding means nothing down here where the sun curves to the north making the South Face the dangerous side. Ryan and I found this slope (see picture above) which was nice and icy and very steep. It was technically “closed” and was suggested to “ski at your own risk,” which we happily did. The first time down we actually broke a sweat, and excited to find something interesting, decided to do the run again. About halfway down I hit a branch or something because the next thing I know my ski is off and I’m sliding down the hill on my hip (one of the pitfalls of ice). Managing to stop myself finally, (only casualty: a fingernail), I had to hike back up the hill to get my ski, and then stomp a trench for my ski to get it back on. I took this whole experience to mean that Las Leñas was also upset I couldn’t try her more intense runs, because if I had, they probably would have kicked my butt.

Touché Las Leñas. Touché.

  

Parque Aconcagua

Perhaps my confidence comes from my trip to Kenya, (hey if I can survive Nairobi, I can do anything right?) but I have this uncanny ability now to make travel plans and go to remote (and awesome) places. This was definitely true of my adventure to Aconcagua which occurred this past Friday.

Backstory: Cerro Aconcagua is the largest peak outside of the Himalayas. Standing at 22,841 feet, it dwarfs all other mountains in the western hemisphere and is widely attractive to hikers worldwide since its north face has very little technical difficulty and can be summited without oxygen (I may or may not have looked into this option myself). Needless to say, with my love for climbing mountains, I wanted to see this thing. So I call up my friend Ryan (who’s probably cursing himself for ever saying “call me up whenever you want to do something outdoorsy…” ) and we headed up into the mountain wilderness to the national park of Aconcagua.

It was quite a ways up the mountain pass that I realized I had no idea where we were supposed to get off the bus, or, in fact, where we were at all. Determined to find this mountain, I brazenly approached the bus driver at the next stop and assaulted him with my broken Spanish explaining that I wanted to get to Parque Aconcagua and showed him my bus ticket. I then learned that our stop was closed. By the police.

Wat.

But never fear! says the bus driver, and he offers to drop us off at the park entrance just a little ways farther down the road (which I think justifies my timing for panicking about our stop). He does exactly this and pulls away on the highway, leaving Ryan and I standing in the middle of Andes, not another soul in sight.

Mountains, snow, blue sky, repeat. Everywhere we looked we were surrounding by towering peaks and white nothingness. It was a wonderful and overwhelming experience all at once. The visitor center wasn’t open yet, so we followed snow packed footprints up the trail to get a look at Aconcagua. Rather anticlimactically, she was shrouded in clouds and never revealed her South Face, which is the very dangerous climbing route and which we otherwise would have been able to see from the loop we took. Bummed, Ryan and I threw some snowballs and entertained the local bird population for a while hoping the clouds would break before heading back down. We weren’t so lucky. At the Visitor Center (which was finally open) we talked to the Ranger about other hikes to the mountain and came up with a new goal: a three day backpacking trip to base camp of the south face, just over 14,000 feet. Summiting the mountain may be another few years in the future, but I can at least get a taste hopefully this coming November when we accomplish this goal. Because we will, Aconcagua, we will.

She eluded me this time, but not in the future...

Puente del Inca

Nbd...

This famous historical site was very much a total accident that occurred as a result of Aconcagua being shrouded in clouds. The bus driver had directed Ryan and I to go back down the highway to the little town Puente del Inca in order to be picked up for the return ride home (I confirmed this multiple times in Spanish to be sure we wouldn’t be spending the night lost in the Andes). So after leaving the visitor center, Ryan and I hit the road down to Puente del Inca, just casually walking along this barren highway with the ferocity of the Andes range as a backdrop. You know, casual.

It was as we were coming up to the town that I saw the colored rocks and started to get curious. “What’s over there?” We went to investigate, and bam! I recognize the natural bridge and old bath house my guide books had mentioned and which I had once thought, “well that would be cool to see!”

Puente del Inca is a famous hot springs that was once visited by Incan kings who lived in the range. It was considered a sacred and healing place by them and I loved imagining their presence in that place. It wasn’t hard to do given the magical colors of the rocks, created by the hot spring’s minerals. The bath house which you see was constructed some time later and was visited by Charles Darwin during his travels in Latin America. He was studying geology in the area (a perfect venue I might add) and took relaxation in the springs.The bath house was permanently closed to preserve the bridge and for some kind of safety reasons (the sign was in Spanish sorry) in… any guesses?

2007. My host mom even bathed there before they closed. This blows my mind because the structure looks so much more like a ruin. It must be the mineral deposits, but it looks eerie to me in its abandoned state. I imagine the ghosts of Incan kings haunting the structure. Maybe they still sink into the water hoping to warm their rattling bones. *Shiver*

It was an amazing experience to happen upon this place and I loved the historical significance of it. Ryan and I were happy to head home though (yes, the bus did pick us up as planned) since the sun went behind the clouds and the temperature plummeted. On the way back I got a few shots of the range that attempt to capture its beauty, though this really will never be possible. 

A phenomenon that happens here is what I’m calling “cloud windows.” Because the Andes are so enormous, the clouds usually separate at about their torso. This means that when the clouds briefly part, you can see the white slopes dotted with crags of rocks and cliffs, but their caps are lost in the upper altitude clouds. It makes for quite the double-take situation when you realize what you’re looking at is indeed a window into the range beyond, but you can’t even see the tops of the peaks. I attempted to photograph this while coming home from Aconcagua while the sun was setting, and hopefully you can see or at least imagine the affect. There really are no words.

More adventures to come…

As I continue to work at my goal of heading into the mountains each weekend, I’ll do my best to continue cataloguing my adventures. Words gotten out that I have this uncanny ability to organize, so I have a plethora of friends willing to accompany me. Who knows where I’ll end up next!

-Lisa en Argentina

The Hunt for Classes

So as you may recall (it took me a second to remember too) I’m here to study abroad, which inherently means I need to attend classes at the local university. I actually have the choice of attending classes at two different schools here in Mendoza, Universidad de Cuyo (student population 30,000) and Universidad Congresso (student population 1,000). The first two weeks of the semester are designated as “shopping” for us exchange students, so that when we realize we don’t want to take Organic Chemistry in Spanish we can still switch out and try something else instead (like Ceramics). I’m now one week into this process and think I’ve come to a conclusion about what classes I’ll be taking for the next 15 weeks, but shopping for classes was certainly a necessary component to reaching this final goal.

The contestants when I first started classes on Monday were as follows:

• Advanced Spanish Language (required, so end of story there)

• Tango (for beginners mind you)                                       

• Violence Control and Social Work

• History of Social and Political Ideas

Let the shopping begin!

Well I missed my Tango class (anti-clamactic I know. A better story would have been I met an incredible Argentine man whose suave moves enabled me to discover my hidden Tango talent and my instructor insisted we enter a competition which we won and my gringo self became the new love of Argentina for her graceful Tango moves… but that’s not quite what happened). Part of shopping is actually discovering how disorderly and crazy classes are here in Argentina and a series of misinformation resulted in my showing up two hours late for my Tango class. Oops. Nonetheless I think I will thoroughly enjoy learning the dance of Argentina and so I’ve decided this one’s a keeper. Total price so far: 5 Credits

Violence of Control and Social Work was interesting because I’m the only exchange student in the class. I think I understood maybe 25% of what was said and at one point the professor said, “Am I speaking Japanese or do you understand?” Ah irony. Regardless of the difficulty of the course, I think I’m going to hang on to it, just because I find the content interesting (how do we control violence within our socially constructed societies) and because I need to push myself. Total price so far: 10 Credits

History of Social and Political Ideas is not, in fact, the history of Argentina. It’s analyzing Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates and how they relate to our society today. In both this class and my social work class, I amused myself by “taking notes” which was really more of making statements with question marks after them because I wasn’t sure if that’s what the professor actually said. I also made some commentary (see photograph for example). This helped me keep my cool while the professor lectured for three hours but at the end of the class, I decided it was a no go because a) Aristotle is hard enough in English and b) it’s an 8am class.

New Addition! History of Argentina and Latin America. I found this course to replace my other “history” class and I think it’s going to be very interesting. Since I’m living in this country, I should probably better understand it’s history and so I’m looking forward to attending this class throughout the semester. Total Price: 15 Credits.

So here’s where I stand now:

• Advanced Spanish Language – Easy understanding level. I’m with all IFSA students and our teacher treats us like we’re in elementary school, which is true language wise, by repeating everything and speaking slowly.

• History of Argentina – Medium understanding level. There’s a high percentage of students in the class from out of the country so the professor does a good job of speaking slowly for us, but still without boring the other students in the class. I usually understand 60% of what he says.

• Tango – Easy understanding level. Luckily I’m fluent in body language.

• Violence in Social Work – Hard understanding level. I want a class I’ll really have to push myself in and this is it. I understand maybe 25% of what is said right now. Wish me luck!

This concludes Lisa’s shopping period here in Argentina and luckily, I don’t have class Tuesdays or Fridays which brings me to the conclusion that I ended up with some pretty sweet deals. I’ll keep everyone posted on how things go!

-Lisa en Argentina

The First Venture Westward

Since arriving in Mendoza, I’ve been aching to get into the mountains. From the city, they appear as dark blue forms jutting into the horizon, their huge outlines hinting at their majesty but also the fact that they’re just out of my reach. On a clear day, you can see slightly clearer the rocks and brush that adorn their faces, but for the most part they just sit and tantalize me, using the sun as a sort of finger beckoning me towards them as it crosses the sky.

If there’s one thing I can say I’ve gained over this past week or so, it’s confidence. When I arrived in Buenos Aires, the thought of talking to local Argentines was simply terrifying (I mean they would respond in Spanish for Pete’s sake!) but since then, I’ve talked to all sorts of cashiers, bus drivers, professors, and total strangers when lost. It’s not so much that my Spanish has improved, it’s just that I have the confidence now to try, even though I still speak like a confused fourth grader. I may speak poorly, but now I’ve embraced that I speak poorly. It’s not like they’d ever confuse me for a local anyway. Lol

So where all this is leading is I decided to go to a local tour group and excursion place in the city and chat with them about the many trips they offer. I’d researched the company ahead of time and had lots of questions, and luckily the lady at the store was very sweet. Once I got the spiel on how excursions work, it didn’t take me another minute to sign up for mountain biking for that weekend “level = difficult” and got two of my guy friends to go with me. Finally my dreams of venturing into the Andes were to come true!

9am on Sunday morning, I was picked up from my house by the tour van and taken westward to their park in the mountains. As the dark blue forms creeped closer, I noticed larger, grander forms behind them, white capped and scraping the sky. Los Andes. Seems the dark blue forms I’d been seeing were only the foothills.

As we continued upwards (gaining elevation fairly quickly much to the exhaustion of our minivan) the terrain continued to become more grandiose. I’ve decided it’s sort of like Arizona meets Colorado. The foothills are covered in low brush and cactus (Cuyo and Mendoza are considered arid desert) but then the larger peaks are snow covered and so enormous it makes me think of home instantly. But these mountains are not to be trifled with. My 14ners at home that I love so much are a weensy bit small in comparison to these monsters. The range we biked under hosted a few 16,000 foot peaks and not far yonder sat an 18,000 footer who would calmly look down 4,000 feet at my mountains if it were located in Colorado.

 

Ya, they’re a tad bit large.

Biking in this scenery was absolutely incredible. Each time I looked up I had to remember to look back down in order to come home with both front teeth still intact. The clouds too have this incredible ribbon-like quality that made the sky look like a water color painting. It’s like the tops of the mountains were running their jagged fingers through the clouds and separating them into strands. So beautiful.

The biking itself was, well, interesting. We dubbed it “river biking” because most of the time we were in a dried up river bed. At other times, it was not so dried up. Haha! Needless to say I got very good at biking in sand and learning how to correct when your bike is fishtailing or refusing to go where you want (the solution is to pedal faster). Ryan, Alexander, and I had a great time and couldn’t have been happier, regardless of the sand, and water, and mud.

Once we returned to the excursion park we decided to indulge in an asado (Argentine BBQ) on the restaurant deck overlooking the reservoir and the mountains. $20US per person got us salamis, empanadas, cheeses, bread, salad, meat that melted in our mouths, and dessert plus a bottle of local wine to share. We were very happy river bikers.

Needless to say, I can’t wait to go back and love the Andes immensely. It was a huge factor in my coming here and it’s living up to its acclaim!

 

 -Lisa en Argentina

Legal in Argentina

Parental Advisory: Mom and Dad, if you don't want to hear about the craziness of the nightlife of Argentina, I suggest you skip this one. Don't worry! I think the only laws I broke were minor traffic violations (if those exist in Argentina, which is doubtful). But more on that later.

As previously mentioned, time in Argentina is much different than in the United States, so as I progress through this timeline, do not panic about how late things are, this is completely normal.

So let's get to the good stuff.

• 12:15am - I head out to the bars with one of my friends where we meet a bunch of other IFSA students at William Brown Irish Pub. One glass Stella Artois is consumed by me.
• 1:20am - We all head to PPTH Bar & Club where they pronounce us too young to enter (must be 23 for women, 25 for men). Culture shock no?
• 1:30am - We venture forth to Break Bar where I see a group of other IFSA students who ask me to join them. My close friend's host brother (who shall be called Brother Mario) was leading the crew in a round of Tequila shots. He's over 30 years old, sort of looks like Adrianne Brody and has already consumed half a bottle of wine and ?? shots. He's surrounded by IFSA students who all happen to be female. Coincidence?
• 1:45am - I take my first shot in my life (Dela you should be proud it was Tequila) which actually wasn't too horrible. It was also my last shot of the night. (I'm taking this whole drinking thing slowly). It involved licking salt of your hand, downing the shot, then sucking on a lemon wedge. I like the lemon part the most.
• 2:00am - Brother Mario decides he's going to get us into PPTH Bar & Club after all (I'm very skeptical about this).
• 2:10am - We get into PPTH Bar & Club (wha? how? still not sure).
• 2:15am - Brother Mario buys more drinks for my friends who at this point, in my expert opinion, should not be drinking more (but we all know how expert I am).
• 2:30am - We commence to the dance floor. I've got to hand it to that DJ, he sure can play a good set! We danced and sang (a lot of the music was mixed US and Latino) and fended off very persistent Argentine men. Don't worry Grandma, I have a lot of practice at this from clubs in Denver.
• 3:45am - One of my friends isn't looking too good. A little drunk, tired, stumbling, and super annoyed by all the attention, (she's tall and blonde and parts a sea of Argentine men in a way that would make Moses proud) we take her downstairs to have some water and sit for a bit at one of the lounge booths. I fully recognize my complete sobriety at this point (as in things aren't quite as funny anymore)
• 4:00am - Return upstairs to find Brother Mario taking full advantage of one of my other friend's fairly inebriated state by dancing and kissing her frequently. This is when I lose almost complete respect for Brother Mario as I've noticed how his persistent drink purchasing and drinking himself has set him up for a pretty easy make-out situation with any of my super cute, American friends. Needless to say we intervened on that one pretty quick and informed Brother Mario it was time to head home.
• 4:01am - Brother Mario says he'll drive us all home. This is when I lose complete respect for Brother Mario. Coldly, I inform him I will be driving and that he'd better hand over the keys. He looks at me dubiously "but it's stick!" "No hay problemo!" I respond. No way am I going to let this drunk man drive any of my friends home or should I say "home." I was definitely worried about his intentions at this point.
• 4:30am - Getting drunk people from place to place is sort of like herding cats, but finally everyone gets into the car (Brother Mario still dubious about my ability to drive stick).
• 4:31am - Lisa advances onto the streets of Mendoza (much to the incredulity of Brother Mario) where traffic laws don't really exist, lanes don't exist, and I've got six people crammed into a tiny beat up Chevy and I may have been the only one wearing a seat belt. Here I must say, thanks mom and dad for making my bucket list dream of driving in another country come true by providing stick lessons and a manual vehicle. I used extreme caution (intersections are very much first come first served as far as right of way). I'm also proud of the fact that I've learned the city well enough to drive and find my way around. I think all the walking helps.
• 4:45am - Dropped all my friends off and drove myself home, Brother Mario in the passenger seat. He insisted on driving his car back to his house because he didn't want it to get stolen. Fine by me if he wants to kill himself, he just can't kill my friends.
• 5:15am - Finally crawled into bed. First night out in Mendoza = success! (Success is determined by everyone getting home safely, minimal law breaking, and remembering the whole thing).

I should make a note here, travelers in Argentina can use their home country driver's licenses for up to three months in Argentina. So me driving was legal as well! And of course the drinking age is 18, so I remain a total rule follower. Bring on the next adventure!

-Lisa en Argentina

The Sights of Mendoza

I’ve come to love my new home here in Mendoza as I begin to settle in and digest the fact that it is indeed home for the next five months. Most impressive are all the trees that grow throughout the city and particularly in the Parque de San Martin. It’s winter here, so many of the trees don’t have leaves, but nonetheless I can just imagine what the city will look like once all the trees are leafing out. There are many plazas within the city such as La Plaza Independencia, La Plaza Italia, La Plaza España, etc. which all showcase a variety of water features and gorgeous trees and statues. For safety reasons I haven’t been taking my camera with me most places, but hopefully in the future I’ll be able to snap some photos of more of these plazas. I particularly like the Plaza España because it has beautiful tile work around the fountains. Overall I think the plazas are a wonderful breath of fresh air and I hope once classes start I can meet classmates in one of the plazas to study and share matte.

The other amazing feature of the city previously mentioned is the Parque de San Martin which is very close to my house. The park features many different elements, including monuments, lakes, statues, fountains, a zoo, soccer fields, tennis courts, and much much more. It’s pretty much enormous. I’ve gone there a couple times just to walk around and enjoy the sights with friends and it’s just so beautiful! One element I absolutely can’t wait to see in the summer is a part of the park called La Rosada because it’s absolutely covered in roses. Rose bushes, roses climbing white columned terraces over the walkways, beautiful statues and benches everywhere… in my imagination I can completely visualize it in the summer and I can’t wait!

The park also extends westward enough that it starts gaining elevation into the mountains. The high point of the area is el Monumento al Ejército de los Andes which features a sculpture celebrating San Martin and his Army of the Andes. It was erected in 1914 and was quite impressive! From the vantage point of the monument we could see the mountains much more clearly than in the city as well as many wineries nestled against the foothills. Unfortunately we visited the spot during the afternoon and photographs were difficult with the sun, but in the morning I would love to return and watch the Andes come in full view. My heart aches to get into the mountains and I’m doing my best to make sure that happens this weekend!

Ciao for now!

-Lisa en Argentina

 

The First Big “Oops!”

Once when I was in the second or third grade, I made the mistake of falling asleep on the bus on the way home from school. I was so tired I didn’t wake up until after my stop, when most other people were off the bus. Terrified, I started panicking thinking I for sure was going to have to sleep on the bus and go to school in the same bus the next day. Fortunately the bus driver noticed me and (of course) took me back to the right stop where mom was anxiously waiting. Crisis averted! Little did I know the same scenario would take place approximately 10 years later here in Argentina.

The truth is, the buses here are insane. They’re not quite at the same status as the mutatos of Kenya, but luckily there I had Wiclif chaperoning us around everywhere. Here, I’m trying to figure things out for myself and… well the best way to learn is through mistakes right?

As a brief introduction to the insanity of Mendoza public transportation, I’ll give you a quick overview. There are 12 different bus circuits here, and each of the twelve has different buses with different routes. So circuit 5 has buses 72 and 74 which is how I get to la Universidad de Congresso, but also has buses 54 and 51 which takes you God knows where. And there are 12 circuits!! I can also use circuit 3 to get home… I think. So you see how crazy this is.

To add to the madness, you have to push a button to get off the bus at the correct stop, which is difficult when:

1.  there are ten million people on the bus (an approximation) squashed around you
2.  you have to be constantly aware of those ten million people around you for pitpockets,
3.  the buses are stick shifts and the driver’s goal is to knock as many people to the floor as possible, making anything but holding on for dear life pretty much impossible,
4. you speak the local language at about the level of a second or third grader.

At this point, I’m sure you know where this is going.

So I’m on the bus, craning to see where I should get off, but between all the variables listed above, “oops!” I watched my street pass by in a blur. I decided I’d just wait till the next stop (they are fairly frequent) and walk back a little ways except that no one else near the button apparently live anywhere by me. So, just like so many years ago, I watched as the scenery I knew melted away and I enter a part of town not even on the local map.

Unlike 10 years ago, I tried to remain calm and made up my mind that I’ll just wait and see where this bus takes me. I figured it was on some kind of circuit and would eventually take me back to town. I was also a bit sketched about the neighborhood and the bus made frequent stops in areas that I didn’t recognize. At many stops, the signs were completely worn and it wasn’t even possible to see which other buses, if any, frequented there. I also had a lot to lose. I had my camera with me from a tour I’d taken early with my IFSA program AND my passport as I had to make photocopies for my Visa.

Staying on the bus was my best bet I figured, but as the bus traveled farther and farther west and north, I started to get more scared. How big was the route? More and more people started trickling from the bus, until finally, I was the last person still sitting there when…

…we pulled into the bus depot. It wasn’t a circle; it’s a line with an ending. Totally embarrassed, I asked the driver if we were going to return to the city center. “No” he said, but taking pity on me (the deer in the headlights look probably helped) he spoke with the other bus drivers and decided to head back on his route right away to take me back to my stop. With relief we picked up more people on the way back and I started to recognize places along the way. Many times the driver greeted youth who got on the bus and seemed to be friends with many of them. That was the moment that I thanked God for putting me on that particular bus with a driver who has a soft spot for young people. Who knows where I would have ended up otherwise?

In the end, I didn’t have to spend the night on the bus, just like I had feared when I was in elementary school; I just had to admit a big oops on my part to a very friendly bus driver. Looking back, I’m still really glad I stayed on the bus. What an adventure!

-Lisa en Argentina