My Semester Abroad

I spent my last week in Buenos Aires trying to do everything I had wanted to do all semester, which wasn't possible; I guess I will just have to return. I did do better than I expected on my exams and papers, and my Spanish greatly improved.

My exchange program officially ended with a fancy dinner and student skits. My friends and I jokingly offered to perform and were forced to, even after we explained that the song we wanted to dance to was "inappropriate." We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, closing out the night with an interpretative dance to, yes, the Divines' "I Touch Myself."

Yesterday Charles and I took off on what will be, we hope, the longest bus ride of our journey. We left Buenos Aires in the morning and arrived at the Bolivian border nearly 27 hours later! We managed to find our way across the border despite warnings that it might be closed because of the elections. We had planned to take the train today to a smaller town nearby, but we were informed that the train doesn't run Sundays; the bus terminal was also closed--due to both it being Sunday and election day.
In Bolivia, apparently, people are not allowed to leave town on election days, tourists included!

A small border town is not the ideal place to be stranded, especially when The Lonely Planet´s "South America on a Shoestring" recommends going to the Argentine side for food. Ah, well, Charles and I have managed to work everything out so far. We're a good team -- and we're even ahead of schedule on our whirlwind three-week tour of Bolivia. Stay tuned.

My boyfriend, Charles, arrived in Argentina just in time for a World Cup game and my birthday. I picked him up and we went straight to a cafe to watch the game. Charles brought Argentina some luck because they won 6-0 against Serbia and Montenegro. We donned some Argentine gear and headed over to the obelisco for the celebrations, which were fantastic and over the top, despite it being the middle of a work day.

Later, we hopped on a bus to Sierra de la Ventana, a small mountain town in the Buenos Aires province. As luck would have it, I forgot the address of our accommodation, but fortunately we were staying at the zoo. "Eco-Parque Kooch," to be exact, but all of the signs we followed led us to the zoo.

We arrived at 6:30 a.m., so the splendor of the zoo was hidden in the darkness, and we headed off to bed. At about 9 a.m., the caretaker woke us when she came to our cabin to see us by the light of day. Her hand was wrapped in toilet paper and, by the looks of things, was bleeding profusely. When we asked what happened she told us that one of the monkeys had escaped and attacked her.

We rushed quickly to to see this dangerous creature and found the caretaker's ladder still propped up against the monkey hit.

I heard something about the World Cup, but really, by the looks of things around here you would have no idea it was going on. That sentence might just be the understatement of my lifetime. To say that soccer is an integral aspect of life for the Argentines is not unfair to say. There is enough emotion running in this city when the two local rivals, River and Boca, play each other. I cannot imagine what it will look like to see all that emotion combined, rooting for one cause. The next several weeks will be truly an experience.

For the first game I went to a Restaurant/Bar with some friends to partake in the festivities. There were 5 televisions in a relatively small space, but the owners apparently wanted to make sure that people could view the game from all angles. The crowd was mostly foreigners, except for two very excited Argentine pre-teens who somehow managed to get their hands on a beer mid-way through the game. Once the waitresses noticed this three of them came to chastise the girls and took their beer away. This, however, did not take away from their excitement and passion about the game. They would jump up, scream, hug each other and were almost in tears with each Argentine goal.

After the game was over my friend Adam and I headed over to the Obelisco, one of the most famous monuments in Buenos Aires. It is also conveniently the location for the congregation of fans and the celebration of a soccer victory. This party was amazing! There was a band there with an assortment of brass instruments and many drums, the crowd would spontaneously break into song, everyone dancing, singing, lighting firecrackers, and just generally having the time of their lives.

The next Argentine game is Friday morning; I imagine that many people will be skipping work and school to watch the game, and hopefully partake in the celebration festivities afterwards!

So, life down here has been relatively uneventful in the past few weeks. That is, if writing papers, doing research and making presentations can be described as uneventful. I have been pretty successful in my school work these days. I wrote a 10 page paper in Spanish all by myself!

The only real adventure I've had of late was a trip with my program across the Rio de la Plata to Uruguay. We went to a small town called Colonia; it's a sweet little place which is a popular weekend destination for wealthy Argentines. It poured all day on Saturday, which put a damper on some of the activities, but Sunday was perfect blue skies. I was too scared to rent a moped — a combination of the rain and the cobblestone streets, the answer just seemed like a big no. I had some lovely typical Uruguayan meals; one of them was chivito, a type of fancy hamburger. The beefsteak was adorned with lettuce, tomato, cheese, ham and a fried egg. It was surprisingly delicious!

More exciting adventures are to come when my finals are over, and possibly even sooner when my boyfriend arrives.

Today was my madre's (host mother) birthday — also known as a great event for insight into the psyche of Argentine women. This country, more specifically Buenos Aires, is known as the "plastic surgery capital of the world." The guests at the dinner party were known to me as "the blonde," "the one with the car," "the one who had surgery," "the dark skinned one," and "the one whose ex-husband works in the public spaces office in the government."

We went to a lovely restaurant, and it was great, but at the same time obvious that everything that occurred was happening so that it could be regurgitated in a fabulous story later.

We talked about plastic surgery, the shirts everyone had recently purchased (save me), the money my madre had just received for her birthday and what shoes she would buy with it. We watched with great anticipation as men entered the restaurant, as most of the women present were single. My madre was quick to point out that there was an Asian person in the large group of men for me to look at.

I quickly grew tired of the trivial topics of conversation, and also of having to translate them in my head and tuned out. Luckily for me the food, like most meals out in Argentina, was fabulous. My taste buds distracted me while my ears tried to tune out the din of Argentine superficiality.

I want to start by saying how much I love Argentina and the Argentine people. This is the kindest country I have ever visited. When my Mom and I went to Thailand we raved about how kind the people there were, but the Thais will be nice to you and smile the biggest smile you have ever seen no matter if they love or hate you. With the Argentines you know if you are inconveniencing someone, if your presence is not exactly welcome, but they will go out of their way to help you regardless. I would move here in a heartbeat.

That said, people here are the most racist I have ever encountered. Argentina, comprised of mostly European immigrants, has a huge superiority complex. Most people down here consider Argentina to be more of a European country than a South American one. The racism here comes in the form of graffiti on buildings, casual conversations on the street, and even in formal or friendly situations. When my Mom was down here visiting, we went out to dinner with a friend from Argentina the topic turned to my boyfriend. I mentioned that he was Chinese; our friend then turned to my Mom and said, "It could be worse." We were astonished and had nothing to say in response.

A friend from my program arrived early for Spanish class one day and shared with us a racist joke she had seen on the news ticker on the subway on her ride to school. And today I witnessed a conversation between two intellectuals, one a principal of a school, and the other a teacher, in which the principal referred to the entire population of another Latin American country as "little animals." It pains me to keep quiet in circumstances like this, but I know that there is little I can do, as an outsider, in the face of generations of school-taught racism.

I just returned from my spring break trip; we had five flawless days in Salta and Jujuy, two provinces in the northwest of Argentina. For me it was a little tease for the trip I will be taking after my program is over, so it was nice to do it on someone else's bill. Each region I visit in Argentina is my new favorite.

RIANA HENSEL/SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Parque Nacional de los Cardones, May 3, 2006.

The region is mostly high desert, filled with breathtaking hills, valleys and the famous Cardon cactus. We visited a nice combination of small towns and provincial capitals. My favorite small town was Tilcara, where José made us an amazing lunch before we headed to the town market. The lunch started with local goat cheese heated up, covered in herbs and olive oil. For the main course we had a choice between local spinach gnocchi with spinach

RIANA HENSEL/SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Famous cactus in the north of Argentina, in the Parque Nacional de los Cardones, May 3, 2006.

sauce or a quinoa dish. Being obsessed with quinoa, a regional alternative to rice, I jumped on the quinoa
bandwagon and dragged my unsuspecting group mates with me. I promised they wouldn't be disappointed and they weren't. The combination of saffron, fresh red peppers, mushrooms, parsley and fresh goat cheese was lindo (beautiful).

In spite of much surprising criticism about paying to see the Dalai Lama on Sunday I went on a little religious pilgrimage. The talk I attended was titled "Inner Peace and Universal Peace" — it was the topic that interested me most, and I feel like I could gain the most from.

The Dalai Lama entered to a standing ovation, which was very moving. It seems to me that these days the only people who get standing ovations for just entering a room are rock stars; it was a refreshing change. He spoke of war, and education reform, and said that he thinks that one of the main causes of societal problems is a lack of love in families.

He was such a calm and peaceful presence — such a joy to share two and a half hours with. He had the most infectious little giggle I have ever heard. My two favorite quotes: "Human intelligence can be constructive or destructive; it depends on the motives of the heart."

Followed later by: "I do my best."

"Perhaps one day, tired of circling the world, I'll return to Argentina and settle in the Andean Lakes..." — Ernest "Che" Guevara, "The Motorcycle Diaries"

I cannot help but say that I feel the same way. This country is magical, and the Argentine Lake District beyond description. The best way to see this area, Ruta de los 7 lagos, is in a rented car, so my mother and I set off Saturday morning with the sun chasing us down the road. Around every turn was another breathtaking lake or valley, all in the shadows of the Andes mountains and the Chilean border. We crossed Rio Corrientoso, the shortest river in the world (!), passed dilapidated wooden bridges and stopped more than 50 times for pictures.

Our tour of the seven lakes ended Saturday night in San Martín de los Andes. The day that followed, Palm Sunday, was one of the strangest days of traveling we have had. We started on a bike trip to my new favorite brewery, in a factory in a neighboring village. The supposedly "no tan lejos" (not very far) journey ended up being "tan lejos," up a mountain, and on a busy road filled with trucks and large buses. The final straw on the outward journey was my asking a drunk man, also on bicycle, how far it was to the next town, he gladly said he would show us ; we quickly headed back down the mountain.

At dinner at a lovely lakeside restaurant I had "Waffles Patagónico" ... Patagonian Waffles?!? What arrived was a sort of waffle sandwich with a chicken salad in between. Ordering food in other countries is always an adventure, but rarely this much of an adventure. After dinner we went to the mirador, or lookout, over the town of San Martín de los Andes as well as Lago Lacar, the lake it sits on. We arrived just in time for sunset, it was perfect.

We finished off the evening at a rock concert, we had no idea what we were in for. Los trillizas de Belville, a band who named themselves after the movie "The Triplets of Belville," was comprised of six men from San Martín de los Andes, all past their prime, rocking out to their hometown crowd. My mom had the privilege of sitting next to a boy in his early teens who happened to be their biggest groupie. This kid was singing louder than the three women who were singing backup with microphones. We had to try not to laugh too loud; we didn´t want him to hear us... Phew.

I just said good-bye to my Momma and am now in El Bolsón heading to Bariloche in a few days to have my own adventures for my Easter Break.

I could not believe the words had come from my mouth, but tonight for dinner I ordered Ciervo Patagónico or Patagonian Deer. This is coming from a girl who was vegetarian for nine years, and before this semester in Argentina I had not touched beef since I was 8. Nonetheless, last night, the first night of my adventure in the Argentine Lake District with my mother, we ventured to Kandahar, a restaurant that had been highly recommended.

COURTESY RIANA HENSEL

Friday, April 7, 2006 in Bariloche, Patagonia, Argentina. Hensel enjoys a local delicacy, Patagonian Deer, for dinner.

There were rumors that this restaurant served wild boar from the region; when we didn't see it on the menu I asked the waiter. He kindly explained that it was a complicated legal situation involving permits for wild boar hunting. So I settled for the deer. Not having ever tasted venison, I had no idea what was coming, but was pleasantly surprised! I actually loved it. My mother and I sat there, both of us in shock as I devoured this regional delicacy, quaffed down with a local artisan beer.

It was the perfect first night for our trip. Tomorrow we leave the Swiss architecture and atmospheric village of Bariloche to explore the "Ruta de los 7 lagos" or "The seven-lakes route."

Off to ride bikes with Momma in the nature preserve in Buenos Aires. This city has some pretty great parks, and it was super fun to see one on a bike. Momma and I rode around casually for a while, then returned the bikes and headed to a street fair, rivaling the one in San Telmo each Sunday for the tourists. But I wanted her to see that one too, so after some shopping and empanadas we headed to Plaza Durango for some antique fair-ing. I bought two really cool shirts -- one is actually a dress -- and made friends with a really sweet young man who directed us to the design fair. He's an actor in a small play here and I plan to go to it. I love this city more each day.

First order of business: Tierra Santa, the religious theme park of Buenos Aires. It was amazing: the Last Supper with moving statues, and the creation scene with moving animals and (naked) Adam and Eve. There was a Jesus statue that resurrected on the half hour, accompanied by lovely music. Quote of the day: "no salió" ("he didn't come out!"), in reference to the resurrecting Jesus, who was off schedule the day we went, taking tourists by surprise.

Homework most of the day, then met Chloe, Karen and Momma, who's visiting from California, at a gay hotel for drinks. Chloe and I then departed for my favorite bar, Buller, a micro-brewery. Then we met up with two friends from the program at someone's apartment, where we heard the perfect "Spanglish" song and then we went looking for somewhere to go out, and at 5 a.m., after not finding anything to do, Chloe and I went home. Quote of the day: "Look what I just did for my country!"

Today marked 30 years since the last military coup in Argentina. That final dictatorship was in charge of the "dirty war," resulting in the kidnapping and deaths of 30,000 people. Emotions still run high.

Public marches and demonstrations are not a rarity here in Argentina. I'm pretty sure I've seen one every day I've been here, mostly directed at banks and financial institutions, spilling out of the economic crisis in 2001. But today's march was special, because it commemorated something that touched every last person in Argentina. The streets were overflowing with people. I went by myself; it was an experience I wanted to have alone, specifically, without other Americans. On the surface this march looked like a peace march in the States, only with images of Che instead of peace signs. But there was one other striking difference: the police presence, or specifically the lack of one. I saw a total of two officers in the three-plus hours I marched.

People were holding signs of their "disappeared" relatives. One woman had a sign that said busco a mis padres ("I am looking for my parents"). Most of the signs had pictures, names and dates of the kidnappings. The tone of the march was overall hopeful, but there were some messages aimed at more current events.

There were a lot of skeletons spray-painted onto walls and people dressed as skeletons. They represented the half of Argentina's population that lives in poverty, dying of hunger.

Even though I still don't feel I have enough historic background on the old regime, I'm just glad to have witnessed such a peaceful march.