It’s been quite a while since I last posted. I have so many things to write about because I’ve done so much in the past week or so. Here are some of the more interesting:
1. Cooked Greek lemon-chicken soup with Kelly. Kelly lives with two twentysomething students from Chile. Their names are Magdalena and Esteban, and they are some of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet in your life. Because I saw the apartment first and didn’t take the room (because it was too far away from everywhere I need to go) and made the connection between the Chileans and Kelly, I of course take credit for any subsequent happiness she experiences as a result of living with them--and take every opportunity to brag about what a good house matchmaker I am. Magda and Esteban make pan relleno each week to sell at La Bomba, the improv drum performance that’s become quite popular. They have quite the production going on. Esteban also has spiderwebs tattooed on his earlobes. I can’t understand anything he says, partly because of his accent and partly because of all the strange slang words he uses. Magda is a fantastic hostess and makes us feel very welcome, offering us bowls of this homemade rice and veggie dish and speaking to us very patiently despite our bad Spanish. They have another friend, Maxi, who basically lives there. They jokingly refer to him as “El Pesado,” or “The Heavy One,” because he’s always there on the couch, using their internet, eating their food, etc. Every time I go there, I get jealous of the buena onda they have. Buena onda is best translated as “good vibe.” What I mean is that they are all friends, they eat and hang out together, and enjoy each other’s company. I always took that kind of atmosphere for granted, living with my family and then with my friends at college, and didn’t realize how wonderful it is until I didn’t have it. Coexistence is perfectly fine, but it’s got nothing on coming home and looking forward to seeing the people you live with.
2. Went to a showing of short Czech animated films last week. Who knew there was such a thing? Apparently there is a big film school in Prague, and it comes up with some truly bizarre stuff. It was held at a community center (something unique about BA: people my age go to community centers. In the States, they tend to be for little kids and old people, in my experience). There are lots of little events like this, with movies and the like, with empanadas, pizza and beer for sale at the entrance. We were the only foreigners in a group of indie Argentines--it’s interesting to find the events that are completely, totally off the guidebook circuit. We sat at a row of rickety tables, watching the obligatory live 1992 tape of Nirvana and trying to decide what Czech films would be like before the show began. There’s a national obsession with Nirvana, and I’ve decided that the best conversation starter if you want to talk to locals is, what’s your favorite Nirvana song?
Anyway, Czech film is, as I said before, bizarre. But also fascinating. The animations are a study in the grotesque, the filthy and the strangely loveable. The stories are morbid and each one has sort of a sick yet completely clever twist. For example. In one, two men are sitting at a breakfast table, and one has a sheet of instructions hanging around his neck. You realize that he is the breakfast vending machine: the man sitting across from him puts coins in his mouth to get a plate of sausage and bread, pokes his eye to produce a set of silverware from the ears, and kicks his leg to make a napkin rise from his jacket pocket. The diner finishes eating and the vending-machine man stretches, gets up and hangs the directions around his companion’s neck. Vending-machine duties have been passed on, and as the camera pans out the door, we see that a whole line of people are waiting to eat and vend in turn. That was part 1. Part 2 was even weirder. Two men are sitting at a lunch table, and the waiter won’t pay attention to them. They eat the flowers out of the vase on the table, cutting them precisely with knives and forks and washing the small, neat bites down with vase water. They eat their napkins before moving onto their clothes, shoes, plates and eventually the table itself. The film ends with them sitting on the floor, naked, having eaten everything in the room. One pretends to eat his silverware, and as the other follows suit, he takes the knife and fork out of his mouth and lunges at his companion. End scene.
Another I remember was about this old man who slid off the roof where he was sitting, ending up holding onto the gutters by his fingertips. Across the street, nosy characters who look like crosses between pigs and people are leaning out the window to see the action. One by one they lean too far out and fall to their deaths. The old man never loses his grip, and he hangs on as it gets dark and a man with a horse cart comes along and pitchforks the fallen bodies into it. I felt sorry for the pig-people.
The movies had a couple of things in common. There were so many little meticulously-chosen details of things that we would consider gross in real life. Showing the trash on the floor of the restaurant and the sweat stains on collars, bits of food on the napkins. Lank hair and bloodshot eyes and an alcoholic’s bumpy red nose. (Animated) people with skin so rough and weathered that it looks like they are carved out of wood, picking their noses and brushing flies off their greasy food. I found the emphasis on that really interesting and would like to know more about the background. Where did that come from?
3. I have found a new tango place and a friend to practice with, who lives with a couple of Argentine guys who actually dance tango--a rarity. They told us about this neat place about ten blocks from my house. It’s the community I have been looking for since I got here--everyone seems to be both quite good and completely unsnobby. It’s a new style for me, so I’ve had to start at the beginning but am catching on pretty fast. Everyone gives me plenty of practice, too, which I love. There are a couple of different styles of tango. This is milonguero, which uses a really close embrace. Generally, I like salon-style, where you have a little more room to move, but I’m enjoying learning this too, especially since I’ve been fumbling my way through it at milongas. Now it’s starting to click, even though there’s a lot to remember. Keeping your chest up and out (I can just see my mom cringing right now, haha), not weighing down your partner with your arm, transferring your weight at the right time, etc. My teacher is hilarious and has an enormous laugh. My first class, she made me dance a couple of songs with a partner with both of our hands behind our backs. It’s hard to dance tango armless, but apparently can be done, and makes dancing WITH arms seem easy, since you’re used to keeping your own balance and not leaning on someone else. She gets on me for a couple of things: sticking my butt out and not putting my heels down. She doesn’t speak that much English, but knows how to threaten me quite well: “Put your heels down or I’ll kill you!” “Don’t move your hips around! I can beat you! And I will, if you don’t stop! How are people going to look at you if you stick your butt out like that?”
4. Went to a secret bar called 878. Actually, it’s not secret anymore but it IS unmarked, and there are a hundred different kinds of whiskey. I hate whiskey, but the atmosphere was good.
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