The End

While I was trying to express some philosophical dilemma and explore an idea, my friend left me with more to think about as my expression was immediately shot down without any interest in what I was trying to say before I could even get through the first part of my always-loaded question or remark by responding with "it's not even a philosophical thing; it's merely personal preference."

Now that's my dilemma, because I don't have a premeditated personal preference, for me it's a "when it comes to it what do I prefer or detest" kind of thing. 

Which is why I have many loaded questions. Because the result has no definition or significance in my mind without the process anterior. Or justification.

I was beaten by my own game. 

Take it or leave it but at least think about it. What more is there to say? I resign. This is my last blog; my thoughts will remain in my head. I will no longer get a high off of playing with words and then hitting publish through my sophomore year spirit. 

So long, faithful audience. You may now get to know me by other means, me incarnate. 

For those of you who have gotten to know me in the flesh, perhaps you can help my dilemma. Perhaps you can now give me existence as I forever disappear into my own thoughts. 

I have attained the last third of my blog's mantra. And so I leave you, with nothing to think about. Because obviously everyone else has already been thinking, and I am lost. I mean, aren't people supposed to find themselves on these kinds of journeys? 

I've lost my essence. I don't mind about aura, because I never had any. But my essence, it has blown away. 

Maybe it is my unkind and quiet desire to disappear for awhile. Maybe it is a conversation I had earlier, or brush of an arm a year ago. Maybe it was the song I heard on the bus coming "home" tonight. 

As a circle of mate dust disappears from the hand with parted lips and cool air, so do I. 

So long, and thanks for all the fish. 

Falling for Fall

I miss my flannel! I miss my thrift stores. I miss making Turkish coffee for breakfast. I miss my mum's Spice Tea and coconut, cranberry, chocolate chip pumpkin muffins. I miss the beautiful leaves that rhythmically crunch underneath your feet as you meticulously weave your path up and around mossy tree roots and cold rocks. 

I miss the morning mist glowing as the sun rises just after the birds have beckoned the new day. 

I miss you, Alabamian Fall

Pollo time

I had chicken for the first time in three months. I had almost forgotten what was the universal taste of chicken.

I wonder, if I had tofu....

Animal fat = my future love handles

Everyone went out back to go look at the people fixing the pool, and I decided that I was hungry, so I walked up the hill to my favorite panaderia and was on a mission to buy criollos de Manteca, and on a whim I ended up getting the other kind which is made with animal fat. The animal fat criollos just looked more appealing at the time. 

I also surprised the ladies because I am always so insistent on butter being healthier than the animal fat. 

I came back and ate my fattening bread spoils before anyone even realized that I had left. 

Side note: 10 criollos cost me $3.00pesos. That makes it about $0.38USD. 

I've had about 35-40 criollos in the past 3 days. Someone stop me before I become bacon drippings. 

Dulce everything.

I have had dulce de Leche with almost everything I have eaten today.

This first lot began with the dulce de Leche liquer that I put in my coffee, followed by a nice bowl of oatmeal with dulce de Leche. Then I had a banana with dulce de Leche. I spooned many a serving into my mouth via my finger. And then I had criollos with dulce de Leche.

The only thing I did not have with dulce de Leche was the Artichoke I ate for lunch. Literally, we each ate a boiled artichoke by peeling away the layers and dipping them into a mix of salt, oil, and vinegar. 

And now I feel terribly sick. I need some olives, stat. 

Social, social, not social

I swear I'm not anti-social. I just don't want to end up walking three miles in the dark and waiting two hours for the bus in the middle of the night in Córdoba. Criollo time. 

And if anyone wants to lend me their Hulu or Netflix password...

Criollos de Manteca.

I just bought 200 gramos de criollos de manteca. And then I proceeded to sit in my bed and eat them while drinking mate with orange juice and hot water. Goethe and I might be in love with the bread of Latin America. 

What are you all doing this Thursday afternoon? 

Forced productivity

Okay, not going to lie, I've been standing outside of my internship office for two hours now, and they told me to wait... As in I have to leave in 45 minutes now to take my bus. 

My productivity level always increases when I am forced to wait. As in, I finished my paper, read some Goethe in Spanish, ate my lunch (actually got lunch today - leftover pasta that I didn't finish for dinner), read some Guaman Poma "First Chronical and Good Government," and some "Civilization and Barbarism" by Sarmiento in Spanish. I also tried not to pass out from the heat. 

And now my back is hurting.

Also, congratulations for reading my glorified Facebook post. 

Argentine lines

I have moments when I feel very argentine. These moments usually occur whenever I am waiting for a long time for any service or anybody. 

I usually only get frustrated whenever I miss my transportation. 

Right now, I'm just enjoying studying people find the right office while I wait outside of mine. 

I am also happily stealing someone's wifi whose password happens to be the anticipated 0123456789.

Horario

My concept of time is completely scewed living in Argentina. As I take a two to three hour nap in the evening, wake up for my dinner at 10:30pm, and then go to bed around 1:30am. 

If it is a Thursday through Sunday night, however, I might find myself sleeping for four hours in the evenings and then staying up until 5am, sleeping until 10am, and then taking another nap in the afternoon for my repeat of a messed up schedule.

The Samford Caf opens at 5. 

You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see

I am a concerned by the fact that I've almost sleep walked three nights in a row. Either that or I've at least woken up completely confused by my whereabouts.

The first time I thought I was at my house in the US. The second, I thought I was in a cave in the countryside of Argentina. The third, I thought I was in my dorm room at my university in the States. 

Let me just tell you, the cave instance worries me for two reasons. 1. I actually thought I was in a cave. 2. I went back to bed accepting the fact that I was sleeping in a cave. 

That's when I woke up in the morning and feared that I had completely lost it. 

As in, what is my subconscious really trying to sort out? Or suggesting? 

All I know is that the aftermath resulted in my Yerba Mate being spilled on the ground because in my attempts to get up and look out the cave window I must have knocked the bag over. 

Good thing I have to practically climb over the cars and use my skeleton key to get out of the house - or else I would legitimately be concerned about wandering the streets of Barrio Urca, Argentina.  

Romantic street scene with rain

You know those movie scenes when the person is standing on the side of the street trying to cross and a car splashes them with water as it drives past. 

Yes, that happens in real life. After I had walked down the road from the school to the bus stop in the unrelenting downpour without my umbrella or raincoat, I proceeded to wait for my damned N5 bus for a few minutes, and while I tried to dodge the stares of the scummy Latin American men, a motorcycle tore past a car on my side, drowning my starving, cold, and wet body with filthy Córdoba street water. I sobbed. That was the only thing I could do. Sob. 

And then I got over it and went back to wondering what we were going to have for dinner at 11pm, hopelessly hoping that there would be leftovers for tomorrow's lunch that I will probably not get anyways. 

Here's to you, Argentina.

Good directions, no turnip greens

1. Two thoughts enter my head whenever someone asks me for directions: 1. I'm about to get robbed. 2. I am being asked directions. 

If the first, then I will surely die. If the second, then I either look like I know what I am doing, I appear to be a Cordobesa, or I am about to get robbed. And then when I do not end up getting robbed, my guard is not let down for future inquires, but rather, I feel as though I have made it past this invisible and unknown to others level of my speaking spanish objective that I have qualified as being able to speak Spanish and know the foreign city almost like a local upon "being asked directions." I get ten bonus points if I can tell them the shortcut to their destination. Let's face it, I'm still going to get robbed. 

Land of the carne and vino. False.

My endeavor to eat something besides an egg and bowl of plain white rice was foiled by the fact that this is Latin America, and sometimes all stores don't open holidays. Or just whenever they feel like it. 

I was able to, however, buy a piece of bread to add to my crouton-like bread collection, with which I will flavor with Dulce de leche liqueur because that is all I can find in this house to eat besides raw flank steak - which I'm hoping we will eat tonight. 

Should have bought my supplies yesterday - as in, I'm already paying people to feed me and yet I'm not getting fed and don't want to pay double. 

And as my attempts were massacred by multiple outside factors, I decided to give up, and go to bed. 

Can't even make coffee to go with my dulce de leche liquer because there is neither coffee nor milk. 

I'm starving in Latin America. I would go to the McDonald's and get an egg mcmuffin, but I don't feel like walking 30 minutes as I have already walked 1.5 hours across this city. 

Why is Latin America so difficult? I'm considering getting a boyfriend purely based on if he has a car or motorcycle and buys me food every day. 

I get cranky when I'm not fed. And those of you who know me -- I'm always eating and stealing 3 meals worth of food from the caf. 

Yes, I went by an outdoor patio restaurant and took the uneaten leftover sandwich from the plate as I walked past. 

I give up. I have no energy. I'm going to bed. Please let there not be white rice for dinner. Oh, studying abroad, how you are such an "experience." Oh, I want to be an adventurer and travel the world, and I'd rather have less possessions so I can see beautiful places! Words of wisdom: sell everything and buy protein bars. 

Happy Columbus Day!

Happy Columbus Day - just another holiday celebrated in Argentina. 

That makes this what, the 5th Monday we've had a school holiday in the past two months. 

Another excuse to speak Spanish all day, go drink mate in the park, merienda with more mate for a few hours in the afternoon, and disfruta the day with your Argentine friends. 

Un finde muy tranquilo

This past weekend I found myself thinking thoughts such as... 

Is smoking pot really allowed on buses? 

I should have worn my dreds and not washed my clothes. 

I am in the middle of nowhere Argentina, and I'm perfectly okay with that. 

Small towns thrive off of Pritty Limon and Fernet. 

You haven't experienced a cold shower until you take one not supported by hot water. That and the whole electricity is a candle in the middle of cloudy night with no moon really adds to the effect. 

I am sitting at a campfire in the middle of nowhere Argentina, listening to Dave Matthews Band. Can't get more stereotypical Argentine than that. 

I had rice for dinner, dessert, and I'm pretty sure we are going to have it again for breakfast. 

Do you want me to put the milk in the fridge? Oh, I see, you want me to run down and put it in the river. 

If I got injured out here, even my OSDE health insurance card wouldn't save me.  

Caprice empanadas. Okay cool.  

Just because no one ever saw the pretty flowers in the wilderness doesn't mean they don't exist. 

Goodnight, *blows out candle*

Sovereign quaint cafe

I am currently sitting in the best cafe there is in Argentina, sipping my huge cup of cafe con leche and eating a nice biscuit with jamón y queso. This is the first cafe that has actually won a spot in my heart with it's abundant portions and various promotions. 

And this quaint cafe of the gods is called McDonald's. 

The first time I've felt nourished by protein and a balance of ingredients.

I might become a regular, if coming for the past three days in a row hasn't already qualified me as so. 

Dulce de leche liqueur

Dulce de leche liqueur. My morning coffee improved tenfold. 

My argentine egg whites

My egg whites did not peak. I am legitimately upset. 

Baking a dessert just may be the most difficult thing to do whilst abroad. 

My story begins with "as I approached the dairy (lácteo) section," and ends with "my egg whites did not peak nor did my whipping cream whip." 

My story always begins with "as I approached the dairy section," and usually ends in some baking catastrophe, and somewhere in between I might have walked a few miles and taken three wrong buses. 

And wouldn't you like to know which dessert I was baking! Hint: includes Dulce de Leche Licor! 

Bus hazard

Had an existential crisis this morning on the bus. Worst place to existentialize while near an open door of a moving vehicle. 

Wifi

Wifi is far and few between functional down here in South America. 

It's all fine when it comes to a break from social media, but when it comes to coordinating where you are going to meet in the city later on in the day... 

It's not prisoner's dilemma, but it does take a lot of anticipation and hope that no matter what, you can correctly anticipate their plans. 

Hola, mi amor!

The bus driver greeted me with "Hola, mi amor!" 

I swooned. How attractive he was with his dark features, gaunt jaw line, sideburns, Italian sunglasses. Let's be real, he was probably an Italian model posing as the bus driver. 

Yes, I will only marry the man who says "will you pass me my pencil, mi amor?" 

Or "what did you say, mi amor?"

Or "your skin glows like the sunset, and your eyes beam like the moon when she has reached her fullness, mi amor!" 

Until we meet again, Señor mi amor. 

I want some MALK

I'm just going to run to the store real quick to get some milk = I literally ran down the street and bought some milk. 

Why did I need milk? Because I was going to make French toast. After my first attempt to make it without milk, making it a piece of bread with an egg fried to it, of course. 

And now I am a Goddess because argentines have never had it before. 

I was lucky that the student who lived here before me was from Canada and brought a nice supply of maple syrup. 

Call me, maybe if you want my answer to be "si"

I awakened to the sound of someone pounding on my door, bursting through the one-hinge door, shoving the telephone into my hand and walking out. 

"Hola?" I half-asleep notified the mystery in the other end of the line. 

I've only spoken on the phone in Spanish a few times, and this time was no different. They spoke, I asked them to repeat what they said, they repeat, and all hell breaks loose because they repeated it even faster, using different words, 

I probably always sign my soul away by responding with "ah!, que bueno, si, muchas gracias, Señor!" 

And in this case, that was all that needed to be said. 

And then I hardly remembered what had happened as I collapsed back onto my bed in slumber.