Living life without a sense of time in Argentina

                 I feel as though I’m realizing more and more, day by day what Mr. Carmody meant when he said that if he was forced to leave the United States forever he would come to Buenos Aires. I am captivated by the city, and enthralled with every aspect of life here. Completely different from Ireland (where I last went abroad), in Argentina you fully feel that you are far away from the United States. Having said that, I believe this is the first weekend that I am missing my country. However, so as not to bring tears to your eyes immediately in this blog entry, I wish to discuss this past Friday, Saturday, and Sunday sequentially.

                Friday was a fairly average day of classes with our host brothers and the new friends that we’ve made. I cannot speak for the entire group, but personally I am having a blast talking with the students of Colegio del Salvador. I find them to be incredibly funny and good guys to hang out with. It’s a strange concept, but I genuinely feel that the students here are much more friendly than the students at BC High.  At Colegio, you are openly welcomed and met with expressions of excitement and happiness. I feel like I have known some of the kids here a life time, as I can’t believe that it has only been two weeks.  My dad always used to tell me about how when he was my age, kids in his neighborhood would casually get together to play baseball or basketball with no sense of urgency or need to plan. I suppose that is the sense I get from the guys here. It is very hard to explain, but no one is competing to be the alpha male in the class. There is competitiveness present, but you can tell that it is simply a group of guys who will be lifelong friends.

                On Friday night, I observed Argentinian teenage culture to its fullest. Relax, relax. What I mean is that when I got home I trolled the internet for an hour or so, and then took a siesta of about two hours. When I awoke, we ate dinner (by now it is about 8:00). After dinner and much waiting around, Lalo, Pedro, and I headed out to a fiesta.  Surprisingly, I am handling the long nights and sleep deprivation well.  

The next day we all went to an asado with the three foreign exchange groups currently at Colegio (BC High, Loyola High LA, and Georgetown Prep). Allow me to be completely frank when I say that I could never, and I mean never in a million years grow tired of asados. Saturday’s asado, prepared by Pato Bradley and two other students was simply delicious. Endless meat. Chorizo as far as the eye could see. Succulent. Juicy. Just plain good. It was nice to mingle with the Georgetown Prep and LA kids as well. By testimony of Colegio fifth years themselves, the BC High group is the most engaging and friendly, so I took it upon myself to attempt to make some new American friends.

                When we arrived home after the asado, Lalo, I, Teddy Patsos, and Matt Doyle all watched the River football match. In Buenos Aires, you are either a fan of River soccer club, or Boca soccer club. My family is a fan of River; therefore I am a fan of River. Also, I am forced to despise Boca. Without getting into the details of the complex playoff system currently taking place, this was a momentously important game for River. Essentially, the team is on a quest to reclaim past glory as they were downgraded recently to the B division as opposed to the A. In short, River won 2-0. Everybody was happy. The end (if I talk about soccer for too much longer I’ll fall asleep at my computer I do apologize).  As boring as I find the sport though, I have enormous respect for Lalo as a fan. He is die hard similarly to how I am with the Patriots. How can that not be revered?

                On Sunday we went to the lone Wendy’s in Argentina, a trip which took about an hour. I was craving an American style hamburger, so when Lalo burst into my room at 1:00 PM to wake me up on Sunday and said “Trevor, do you want to go to Wendy’s?” I screamed for joy. The burger with lettuce and pickles was satisfying and savored. After Wendy’s we walked around for the day and visited a number of churches in a different part of Buenos Aires. We then headed to what I consider to be the central park of Buenos Aires for sunset, concluding a beautiful day.

                Now for some tear jerking. As we were walking back to the subway station we were passing by the American Embassy. I looked up and saw our flag set against a backdrop of a red sky dotted with clouds. My first feelings of homesickness set in. It is not so much that I miss my good friends or my daily routine, I miss my country. Being down here has made me realize how vastly different the United States is to the rest of the world. I miss hearing English speakers 24/7 and seeing my own people walking the streets. I miss my parents and my two dogs sure, but what strikes me is that feelings of sadness were evoked by seeing my flag which I had not seen in weeks. Not that I see an American flag every week back in the States, but something about that national symbol made me realize how much I miss my country.

                Like I said before, Argentina is wonderful and I am making the most of every moment here. As the days grow fewer, I find myself resisting the urge to think about saying goodbye to Lalo, and my new family. When that moment comes, I’m sure that I’ll truly brake down. Until then I do miss America, but I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.  Sure Argentina is different from the United States, but to quote Will Ferrell in Kicking and Screaming, it is “better different. In a different, but better way”...

Trevor Schramn

Flag Day, Recoleta Cemetery, and the Santa Susana Ranch!

       After over a week of enjoying a different culture, the wonderful hospitality of our host families and 60-degree weather, it is my pleasure to share with you some more of our experiences as a group with a little bit of my own mixed in.

Flag Day Ceremony

       Monday was relatively uneventful. We went to classes with our host brothers for most of the day and did not do anything as a group outside of school. That is not to say that it was by any means boring or fruitless, for sitting in on our host brothers`classes is an excellent opportunity to practice listening in Spanish and is an interesting insight into the very different educational system here in Argentina. Classes seem to be much more informal, with students calling all of their teachers by first and even nicknames. If a teacher is late or has to run an errand of some sort during class, it is straight to the gym for some fast but furious soccer action.

       Wednesday was Flag Day here in Argentina, so we celebrated it on Tuesday with a schoolwide ceremony honoring the flag with speeches, a choir and more. After the ceremony, which lasted about an hour and a half, we Bostonian exchange students met up with those from Los Angeles to go to the Recoleta Cemetery. There have been buried Buenos Aires` most prominent or affluent citizens since the early 19th century, such as presidents, leading scientists, Evita Peron and more. The cemetery defied expectations (or mine at least) in that it is quite different from the typical cemeteries back home. Instead of a field covered in headstones this cemetery is more like a miniature walled city of its own with street after street of beautiful marble mausoleums, each one owned by a family (or an extraordinarily wealthy individual), with the caskets and often some sort of religious shrine inside. After walking 14-odd blocks to the school we had lunch and then a free period, which was passed, unsurprisingly enough, by playing soccer-ahem- football- in the gym. Tuesday night was treated like a Friday because we had no school on Wednesday due to the national holiday so I went with my host brother to a friend`s house. There we met up with about ten other Argentinian friends. Now, I like to think of myself as pretty decent at Spanish, and I am able to understand a good portion of what is said at the dinner table. But by 1:30 AM the dozen excited teenage boys all talking at once became completely unintelligible. Unbelievably, however, they were still energized enough to decide to head to a disco at about 2 AM.  I, however, didn`t join them because while I have been able to get used to the different eating schedule (tiny breakfast, lunch at 2 PM and dinner at 10:30) I am still unable to take a siesta most days and 2 AM was more than pushing it. 

Recoleta Cemetery

      On Wednesday, because we had no school, the group did not meet or do anything together. I, however, went for a walk around the city with my host father, touring the city`s largest public park, the national library (the design of which actually reminded me a lot of the Boston City Hall), and, on a second trip, Puerto Madero, the city`s bustling seaport. Something that Buenos Aires is definitely not lacking in is rollerbladers, for they seemed to be everywhere in the park and at the port. Indeed, I`d always been puzzled as to why my Spanish II book seemed to talk about going skating in the park so much as it is something that doesn`t seem to be done much in Boston, though now I think I know why.

Recoleta Cemetery

      On Thursday we all went to La Estancia Santa Susana (though we who watched La Catrina in Spanish class called it La Hacienda Jacaranda), which is a historical ranch about an hour from Buenos Aires. There we and about 15 other tourists from Buenos Aires spent the day soaking in the countryside culture of Argentina through horseback riding, a sickening amount of food, tango and folk dance performances, and a demonstration of gaucho (Argentina`s version of the cowboy) horsemanship. Teddy Patsos and Ms. Basin really got into the swing of things during the musical performance when all were invited to dance. Most of us were not brave enough or too stuffed with all of that food to do so, but they did, and put on a fabulous performance.

       I don`t want to be redundant by trying to match Billy`s expressions of delight with Argentina, but I would like to say that this has been a most incredible experience already and that I just can`t wait to see how the rest will be. Thanks and unless I write again, I will see you all at Logan.

 Daniel Boudreau

Estancia Santa Susana

El gaucho

 

Welcome to Buenos Aires!

      After hours of flying and giving Mrs. Basin's children enough Swedish Fish to feed a crowd, we've finally arrived in Argentina with open arms. We were met at the airport by Eugenia, one of the teachers running the exchange program, who took us to Colegio del Salvador. After eating only airline food for the last two meals, we feasted on medialunas and alfajores prepared for us by our host brothers. If you've never had an alfajor, I sincerely feel sorry for you and will personally bring one back for you. Seriously. We met several members of the administration, including the director of the school who gave each of us a personal welcome. Our brothers came to join us soon after, and we picked up right where we left off on February 11.
Our parents took us home from our meal, which for most of us is just a few blocks from the school. After settling in, I was greeted with a pasta lunch, just 30 minutes after breakfast in the family's beautiful French-style apartment. Although I'm not accustomed to eating so much so often, I've learned to love the custom of a siesta. For the first time in my life, I fell asleep after a flight. Ask anyone on the Dominican Republic service trip, I never fell asleep on any of our flights or bus rides. I slept for a whole 5 hours, until Nacho's father took us to dinner right down the street, where I dove right into Argentinean steak. If anyone decides to come down here, the restaurant is called Rigoletto Café near the intersection of Juncal and Rodríguez Peña. You won't be disappointed.
     Over dinner, Nacho's father asked me what sights I wanted to see around the city. Little did I know that we were going to drive around the entire eastern part of Buenos Aires. We saw the Casa Rosada (basically the Argentinean version of the White House), the National Bank, the Catholic University of Buenos Aires, a mural of Evita Peron across the facade of one of the buildings, and the great obelisk in the middle of Avenida 9 de julio, one of the widest streets in the world. After dark, the city is illuminated in colorful lights, especially the major sites. You might even compare it to Times Square, only to be proven wrong by the distinct European architecture that fills the city.
     The next day, we took the Bondi (the bus) to the school, partly because I woke up a little too late. Upon walking into the school, the director personally greets everyone, including his foreign visitors, with a welcoming hug everyday. We were given a tour by Fefo, one of the former guides who traveled to Boston on the exchange program and absolutely loves BC High. We had the opportunity to play around in the gym after the tour, but being the athletically deprived child that I am, I decided to try talking to the students. I quickly made lots of new friends, but probably the funniest thing was that while I was speaking my broken Spanish, tripping on some vocab word that I forgot, they were speaking English almost perfectly. These kids have studied English since their first year of school, while many students in the US don't start studying another language until high school. The experience is quite humbling, to say the least. Almost everyone I've met has, at the very least, some basic knowledge of English. You certainly don't see any Americans speaking Spanish in their homeland.
     That brings me to my favorite part of this country: the people. One of the government ads you commonly see around the city is Argentina: un país con buena gente. (Argentina: a country with good people.)  I already said that I made new friends here, but I can't emphasize enough how open and welcoming everyone has been. This is what attracted me so much to the village of Las Cruces in the Dominican Republic, and caused me to promise myself to return there sometime in my life. I'm convinced that Spanish-speaking people are the happiest on earth. The teachers, students, and almost anyone you meet on the street (don't worry, the only one I met was an alumni of Colegio del Salvador, and I actually recognized him because he came to Boston on the program) will strike up a conversation and want you to feel at home. I don't know how many times my host mother has told me to call her in case I need something. Our host brothers have even gone the extra mile by bringing us all together for dinner on Friday night. I don't know about anyone else, but ham and cheese empanadas are now one of my favorite foods on earth. I know I have a second home here, and I sincerely hope that our hosts feel the same way about Boston. It hasn't even been a week into the program but I've already asked myself, why do I always buy round trip tickets when I go away?

¡Viva la patria!

Billy Sennott