Welcome to anyone who has stumbled across my "Kay-in-Argentina" blog. It is the unfolding account of my month in Argentina on a Ministry of Education AFS Spanish Language Immersion Award.
The purpose of my blog was to not only keep in contact with family, friends, students and colleagues, but also to document my own language learning and intercultural experiences pretty much as they happened. It also made my reporting back to the Ministry a lot easier as it helped keep me focussed on what the purposes and expectations of the trip were about.
As an enthusiastic beginner, with only the most basic of the mininum level of survival Spanish language, many of my most interesting (and harrowing) experiences were based on simple communication strategies and interactions.
So, if you want to read this is chronological order, start with My very first post
Then the second post here, and then you will probably have worked out how to read them in order.
¡Chau!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The Last Post
I couldn't resist the choice of title as today is ANZAC Day, and few things tug at your patriotic heartstrings as much as an ANZAC commemoration.
And, having been in Argentina for the memorial day for the Malvinas (Falklands) and another memorial day for the Desaparecidos (the 30,000 people who 'disappeared' in the "Dirty War" between 1976 and 1983) I have been well and truly reminded of how fortunate my own circumstances have been so far!
The memorial day for the Desaparecidos was initiated in 2006 and was on my first Tuesday in Argentina. I tried to find out about it but didn't have enough tactful language, prior knowledge or ready access to information I could understand. I saw a few banners and some graffiti which seemed to be relevant but I couldn't really understand too much and didn't know what questions to ask.
I tried to do a bit of research on this and came up with the following sites:
http://www.desaparecidos.org/arg/victimas/eng.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dirty_War
http://www.abuelas.org.ar/english/history.htm
The Malvinas I could understand a little better but, according to one teacher I spoke to, it can still be quite a controversial topic to cover with school children (the way we cover ANZAC Day in NZ schools) because there are still some strong and potentially conflicting opinions held by some parents. I did find out that many of the Argentine soldiers were young, ill-prepared, under-equipped and under-fed and that they found themselves better treated by the British troops than their own leaders. I was travelling to Iguacu on the Malvinas memorial day so it passed my by completely. When I was visiting a public school I found some students' posters about the Malvinas. See if you can read them (those of you who speak/read Spanish).
However, now that I am back in New Zealand, it's time to account for my last few hours in Argentina and to review the entire month against my initial objectives, expectations and pre-conceptions.
After leaving Parana, I spent about 6 hours on a colectivo (huge double-decker bus) to Buenos Aires. I had a seat with no neighbour so had time to myself and to process the previous month's experiences. I spent the trip dozing in the very comfortable "semi-cama" (semi-bed) bus seats - which are even more comfortable now that I've worked out how the footrest works. There were two separate movies with Spanish subtitles but no other sound, and I was too tired to concentrate anyway. I suppose there may have been ear phones but I didn't bother going in search of them.
It was a bit scary arriving at the bus stop because, although I knew I was being met by an AFS person, I had no idea who that person would be and if they would find me. BA bus stop is incredibly huge, creepy, busy, dirty and full of people and dogs that you really don't want to get too close to.
I was the last person to get my luggage from the back of the bus, and had a frisson of anxiety when the person unloading the bus wouldn't give me one of my bags because I didn't have the luggage ticket for it. I argued, in limited Spanish, that it was my bag, there was no one else waiting, it was the last bag there and that it had a matching AFS label as the bag he had just handed me and , no, I had no other luggage ticket - one ticket was for both bags. He would not let me have my bag, so in desperation I waved my bus ticket in front of him, saying apologetically, "Soy de Nueve Zelanda" (I am from NZ) - It does not pay to antagonise people who have your luggage and I reserve this identification for moments of desperation when it is already perfectly obvious that I am from another planet, and hope that I look incapable of committing anything more dangerous or illegal than being a pain in the neck. Fortunately, the missing luggage ticket was inside my folded bus ticket (it seems it was entirely my mistake, at this point) and my suitcase was liberated. And then, I forgot to give him a tip. Every other time I'd been on a bus someone else had taken care of it for me before I even knew what was happening.
At this stage, I could see no sign of my AFS contact and two men were jockeying for position, insistently offering me their taxi services as if they recognised me! One of them was instantly eliminated as a possible contact. I didn't think AFS would send an unshaven, unkempt, shifty-eyed non-English speaker to meet me. It was a bit creepy as the other one was wearing a very smart suit and was pointing to his photo identity card on a lanyard round his neck, confidently indicating that he had a taxi for me. I wasn't about to lift his card up to my nose to check it out in the semi-adequate light and, even if he was an AFS contact, he would have had to work a lot harder than that to gain my confidence. He insisted he had a taxi and I insisted "No - no taxi" and then I saw Carolina who looked exactly as an AFS contact should - even before I saw her identification. She had been there all along, but was just completely hidden by the pushy taxi drivers.
We headed off for the distant safety of the VIP lounge, to which my bus ticket would give me access. Once we finally got there I realised I had left the required bus ticket with the luggage unloader and said to Carolina could she please unleash however much charm it took to get us in there, saving "She's from New Zealand and she is going to burst into floods of noisy tears any minute," as a last resort. Fortunately, it was not needed and we were allowed in.
Next mission, find the VIP toilet. I was able to ask this myself, in Spanish, and was handed the shaft and knob of a doorhandle to use as a "key". This, supposedly, is to keep the riff raff out of the VIP loo. I'm no longer surprised by toilets in Argentina. This one had one roll of toilet paper among three toilets and, when looking for where the flush mechanism might be, was somewhat alarmed to discover that... there wasn't one, and that flushing was achieved by reaching into the cistern and raising the lever manually.
Veronica-from-Cordoba found us herself as her bus had come in a bit earlier than we expected. She is far more intrepid than I am and is not at all fazed by the things that leave me panicking.
Our next adventure was to find the taxi Carolina had booked. AFS have a preferred company they deal with and the booked taxi driver was waiting at another exit. Once we had found each other, there was a bit of a dilemma getting everything into the taxi. There were three passengers plus all our luggage and the driver said his boot didn't open. He managed to jam our two big suitcases in the front seat, blocking half his vision through the windscreen and totally through the side window, then the three of us squeezed into the back seat (not a safety belt to be found) with all our hand luggage and a smaller suitcase each tightly fitted on and around us. I was sure it would be impossible to fit us all in - but somehow we did and hurtled off for a reasonably long ride to the airport. Observation: There are things that you do in other countries that you would not dream of doing in your own country. Most of these things involve suspending all previously held notions of minimal safety or hygiene standards you would tolerate.
We ended up waiting for three hours extra at the airport as there was some problem with the plane to be sorted. This is always unnerving. There were people lying asleep all over the place, the air con was on super-chill and only one perfume-type duty free shop was open. I had a few pesos I would have gladly parted company with but there were no other shops open - so we bought a few coffees at $12pesos each - which helped get rid of some of my Argentine money. There was internet wireless available and I had my computer with me, except I had packed my power cord in my other luggage and was fast running out of battery. Frustration was mounting but fortunately, Veronica had a NZ-capable cellphone and I was able to text people at home to say... don't get up early to meet the plane.
My parting memory of Argentina was of the large world map on the wall of the departure lounge - pretty much anatomically correct except for the complete lack of New Zealand at the far right hand side of the map. Discovering the absence of NZ on the airport world map is quite disconcerting - and you hope that at least the pilot has New Zealand on the maps he's using to find his way to Auckland airport. I have seen several other Soouth American-centric maps of the world with no sign of New Zealand.
There were still a few cultural experiences to be had on the plane on the way home - the inevitable toilet experience being one of them. It seems that many people in Argentina do not flush all paper down the toilet - it appears to be gathered in a waste paper basket beside the toilet. I did not investigate the how, who and where questions begging to be asked about this. However, there was no such receptacle in the tiny plane toilet so the ....damp paper just piled up in the corner over the 12 hours on the plane. Think about it!
Also inevitably, the movie screen nearest to me (Yay! The wide screen at the front of the plane, I thought,) did not work. So, to watch any of the three in-flight movies, I had to crane my neck at about 30 degrees to see anything at alln the next small screen down the plane. I ended up listening to the Spanish sound track but couldn't really follow any of them.
Then, I found the same Argentinian comedy channel that I had tried to follow on the way over, a month ago, and decided to do a 'before' and 'after' language acquisition check by listening to it again.
Here's what I wrote about it a month ago:
In the spirit of the “immersion’ part of my immersion award, I listened to an Argentinian comedy channel on the in-flight entertainment, the only non-music option. Disappointingly, and disturbingly, I could only pick up one word “veinti cinco” which sent the audience into peals of laughter. I only realised the channel had repeated itself when I heard “veinticinco” followed by the same peal of laughter. The third time round, with extreme focus, I picked up "Japonais" and a few more “buts”. My confidence was diminishing...
I was extremely and gratefully surprised that I could understand so much more of it than the first time. Although I could still not understand the punchlines or follow the entire monologue, I could identify many of the words, and even if I didn't know the meanings of them, they were familiar and I could identify when many words started or finished. A few place names leapt out at me too. I felt that if I could listen to it very slowly I would be able to understand a lot more, and if I could read it, even more so. My confidence was boosted.
And, in a Google Earth moment, how awesome to be able to look out the plane's window and finally see the Waikato River, to pass over Otaua and Waiuku - and recognising Mum's roof at Sandspit, and then seeing the steel mill and the ARC park at Awhitu - even being able to locate my favourite camping spot and pohutukawa tree... before safely and smoothly landing at Auckland. I was in no rush to finish my month away, but when it's over, it's over!
A few final observations:
How nice Auckland airport is to arrive at with its native bird call recordings tweetling away as you walk through to the immigration area.
Although I was away for only a month, I couldn't help but notice how proverbially clean and green New Zealand was when I got back.
New Zealand money is a lot more colourful than pesos and US dollars.
Pesos are not good for any duty free transactions at Auckland airport.
You will always wish you had bought a few more prezzies.
When you have been living on a limited wardrobe for a month, there will be some clothes that you never want to see again.
Things you didn't do before you left (that you should have done) have a habit of still needing to be done when you get back home.
New Zealand toilet paper is a lot stronger and thicker than Argetnina's - it would seem.
In genreal, I have discovered that New Zealand toilets are a lot more predictable and obliging than Argentina's.
There are more insects in houses in New Zealand than there seem to be in Parana. Although, I did hear on the news that the enclave of Argentinan ants has been successfully and expensively eradicated from somewhere in New Zealand recently.
I can now text my friend Vivienne in Spanish and understand her replies in Spanish. At this point it's been limited to "I'm in a maths course. How is your Spanish Course going?" but I envisage, "Meet you for coffee in half an hour?" as a frequent communication in Spanish. This is indeed early evidence that the Ministry of Education has already had a good return on its financial investment in my professional development and second language acquisition!
And, having been in Argentina for the memorial day for the Malvinas (Falklands) and another memorial day for the Desaparecidos (the 30,000 people who 'disappeared' in the "Dirty War" between 1976 and 1983) I have been well and truly reminded of how fortunate my own circumstances have been so far!
The memorial day for the Desaparecidos was initiated in 2006 and was on my first Tuesday in Argentina. I tried to find out about it but didn't have enough tactful language, prior knowledge or ready access to information I could understand. I saw a few banners and some graffiti which seemed to be relevant but I couldn't really understand too much and didn't know what questions to ask.
I tried to do a bit of research on this and came up with the following sites:
http://www.desaparecidos.org/arg/victimas/eng.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dirty_War
http://www.abuelas.org.ar/english/history.htm
The Malvinas I could understand a little better but, according to one teacher I spoke to, it can still be quite a controversial topic to cover with school children (the way we cover ANZAC Day in NZ schools) because there are still some strong and potentially conflicting opinions held by some parents. I did find out that many of the Argentine soldiers were young, ill-prepared, under-equipped and under-fed and that they found themselves better treated by the British troops than their own leaders. I was travelling to Iguacu on the Malvinas memorial day so it passed my by completely. When I was visiting a public school I found some students' posters about the Malvinas. See if you can read them (those of you who speak/read Spanish).
However, now that I am back in New Zealand, it's time to account for my last few hours in Argentina and to review the entire month against my initial objectives, expectations and pre-conceptions.
After leaving Parana, I spent about 6 hours on a colectivo (huge double-decker bus) to Buenos Aires. I had a seat with no neighbour so had time to myself and to process the previous month's experiences. I spent the trip dozing in the very comfortable "semi-cama" (semi-bed) bus seats - which are even more comfortable now that I've worked out how the footrest works. There were two separate movies with Spanish subtitles but no other sound, and I was too tired to concentrate anyway. I suppose there may have been ear phones but I didn't bother going in search of them.
It was a bit scary arriving at the bus stop because, although I knew I was being met by an AFS person, I had no idea who that person would be and if they would find me. BA bus stop is incredibly huge, creepy, busy, dirty and full of people and dogs that you really don't want to get too close to.
I was the last person to get my luggage from the back of the bus, and had a frisson of anxiety when the person unloading the bus wouldn't give me one of my bags because I didn't have the luggage ticket for it. I argued, in limited Spanish, that it was my bag, there was no one else waiting, it was the last bag there and that it had a matching AFS label as the bag he had just handed me and , no, I had no other luggage ticket - one ticket was for both bags. He would not let me have my bag, so in desperation I waved my bus ticket in front of him, saying apologetically, "Soy de Nueve Zelanda" (I am from NZ) - It does not pay to antagonise people who have your luggage and I reserve this identification for moments of desperation when it is already perfectly obvious that I am from another planet, and hope that I look incapable of committing anything more dangerous or illegal than being a pain in the neck. Fortunately, the missing luggage ticket was inside my folded bus ticket (it seems it was entirely my mistake, at this point) and my suitcase was liberated. And then, I forgot to give him a tip. Every other time I'd been on a bus someone else had taken care of it for me before I even knew what was happening.
At this stage, I could see no sign of my AFS contact and two men were jockeying for position, insistently offering me their taxi services as if they recognised me! One of them was instantly eliminated as a possible contact. I didn't think AFS would send an unshaven, unkempt, shifty-eyed non-English speaker to meet me. It was a bit creepy as the other one was wearing a very smart suit and was pointing to his photo identity card on a lanyard round his neck, confidently indicating that he had a taxi for me. I wasn't about to lift his card up to my nose to check it out in the semi-adequate light and, even if he was an AFS contact, he would have had to work a lot harder than that to gain my confidence. He insisted he had a taxi and I insisted "No - no taxi" and then I saw Carolina who looked exactly as an AFS contact should - even before I saw her identification. She had been there all along, but was just completely hidden by the pushy taxi drivers.
We headed off for the distant safety of the VIP lounge, to which my bus ticket would give me access. Once we finally got there I realised I had left the required bus ticket with the luggage unloader and said to Carolina could she please unleash however much charm it took to get us in there, saving "She's from New Zealand and she is going to burst into floods of noisy tears any minute," as a last resort. Fortunately, it was not needed and we were allowed in.
Next mission, find the VIP toilet. I was able to ask this myself, in Spanish, and was handed the shaft and knob of a doorhandle to use as a "key". This, supposedly, is to keep the riff raff out of the VIP loo. I'm no longer surprised by toilets in Argentina. This one had one roll of toilet paper among three toilets and, when looking for where the flush mechanism might be, was somewhat alarmed to discover that... there wasn't one, and that flushing was achieved by reaching into the cistern and raising the lever manually.
Veronica-from-Cordoba found us herself as her bus had come in a bit earlier than we expected. She is far more intrepid than I am and is not at all fazed by the things that leave me panicking.
Our next adventure was to find the taxi Carolina had booked. AFS have a preferred company they deal with and the booked taxi driver was waiting at another exit. Once we had found each other, there was a bit of a dilemma getting everything into the taxi. There were three passengers plus all our luggage and the driver said his boot didn't open. He managed to jam our two big suitcases in the front seat, blocking half his vision through the windscreen and totally through the side window, then the three of us squeezed into the back seat (not a safety belt to be found) with all our hand luggage and a smaller suitcase each tightly fitted on and around us. I was sure it would be impossible to fit us all in - but somehow we did and hurtled off for a reasonably long ride to the airport. Observation: There are things that you do in other countries that you would not dream of doing in your own country. Most of these things involve suspending all previously held notions of minimal safety or hygiene standards you would tolerate.
We ended up waiting for three hours extra at the airport as there was some problem with the plane to be sorted. This is always unnerving. There were people lying asleep all over the place, the air con was on super-chill and only one perfume-type duty free shop was open. I had a few pesos I would have gladly parted company with but there were no other shops open - so we bought a few coffees at $12pesos each - which helped get rid of some of my Argentine money. There was internet wireless available and I had my computer with me, except I had packed my power cord in my other luggage and was fast running out of battery. Frustration was mounting but fortunately, Veronica had a NZ-capable cellphone and I was able to text people at home to say... don't get up early to meet the plane.
My parting memory of Argentina was of the large world map on the wall of the departure lounge - pretty much anatomically correct except for the complete lack of New Zealand at the far right hand side of the map. Discovering the absence of NZ on the airport world map is quite disconcerting - and you hope that at least the pilot has New Zealand on the maps he's using to find his way to Auckland airport. I have seen several other Soouth American-centric maps of the world with no sign of New Zealand.
There were still a few cultural experiences to be had on the plane on the way home - the inevitable toilet experience being one of them. It seems that many people in Argentina do not flush all paper down the toilet - it appears to be gathered in a waste paper basket beside the toilet. I did not investigate the how, who and where questions begging to be asked about this. However, there was no such receptacle in the tiny plane toilet so the ....damp paper just piled up in the corner over the 12 hours on the plane. Think about it!
Also inevitably, the movie screen nearest to me (Yay! The wide screen at the front of the plane, I thought,) did not work. So, to watch any of the three in-flight movies, I had to crane my neck at about 30 degrees to see anything at alln the next small screen down the plane. I ended up listening to the Spanish sound track but couldn't really follow any of them.
Then, I found the same Argentinian comedy channel that I had tried to follow on the way over, a month ago, and decided to do a 'before' and 'after' language acquisition check by listening to it again.
Here's what I wrote about it a month ago:
In the spirit of the “immersion’ part of my immersion award, I listened to an Argentinian comedy channel on the in-flight entertainment, the only non-music option. Disappointingly, and disturbingly, I could only pick up one word “veinti cinco” which sent the audience into peals of laughter. I only realised the channel had repeated itself when I heard “veinticinco” followed by the same peal of laughter. The third time round, with extreme focus, I picked up "Japonais" and a few more “buts”. My confidence was diminishing...
I was extremely and gratefully surprised that I could understand so much more of it than the first time. Although I could still not understand the punchlines or follow the entire monologue, I could identify many of the words, and even if I didn't know the meanings of them, they were familiar and I could identify when many words started or finished. A few place names leapt out at me too. I felt that if I could listen to it very slowly I would be able to understand a lot more, and if I could read it, even more so. My confidence was boosted.
And, in a Google Earth moment, how awesome to be able to look out the plane's window and finally see the Waikato River, to pass over Otaua and Waiuku - and recognising Mum's roof at Sandspit, and then seeing the steel mill and the ARC park at Awhitu - even being able to locate my favourite camping spot and pohutukawa tree... before safely and smoothly landing at Auckland. I was in no rush to finish my month away, but when it's over, it's over!
A few final observations:
How nice Auckland airport is to arrive at with its native bird call recordings tweetling away as you walk through to the immigration area.
Although I was away for only a month, I couldn't help but notice how proverbially clean and green New Zealand was when I got back.
New Zealand money is a lot more colourful than pesos and US dollars.
Pesos are not good for any duty free transactions at Auckland airport.
You will always wish you had bought a few more prezzies.
When you have been living on a limited wardrobe for a month, there will be some clothes that you never want to see again.
Things you didn't do before you left (that you should have done) have a habit of still needing to be done when you get back home.
New Zealand toilet paper is a lot stronger and thicker than Argetnina's - it would seem.
In genreal, I have discovered that New Zealand toilets are a lot more predictable and obliging than Argentina's.
There are more insects in houses in New Zealand than there seem to be in Parana. Although, I did hear on the news that the enclave of Argentinan ants has been successfully and expensively eradicated from somewhere in New Zealand recently.
I can now text my friend Vivienne in Spanish and understand her replies in Spanish. At this point it's been limited to "I'm in a maths course. How is your Spanish Course going?" but I envisage, "Meet you for coffee in half an hour?" as a frequent communication in Spanish. This is indeed early evidence that the Ministry of Education has already had a good return on its financial investment in my professional development and second language acquisition!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Frond Farewells
When I first arrived at my home-in-Parana-for-a-month, the first thing I noticed was a large fern and palm growing together in a small garden in a small courtyard between the garage and house.
"http://helenkayos.blogspot.com/2009/03/back-to-frond.html"
My immediate reaction was, "Hey! That's a koru!" which was interesting because in New Zealand, fern plants don't leap out at me, grabbing my attention, demanding patriotic recognition - such as this fern-in-Parana did every time I passed it. I guess it's not until you leave New Zealand that you realise what it is that tweaks your sense of national identity.
You can imagine how this logo below grabbed my eye at new shopping complex at Santa Fe, over or under the river. (There is a tunnel that goes under the river between the two cities). It's a sports shop, particularly rugby, it appears. Find the koru here.
On my last day with my Parana family, the fern frond had unfolded and was now stretched out and ready start growing its leafy bits. Such is the metaphor of my language learning experience in Argentina!
(From Wikipedia) The koru is the Māori name given to the new unfurling fern frond and symbolises new life, growth, strength and peace. It is an integral symbol in Māori carving and tattoos. Koru can also refer to bone carvings. Those generally take the shape of the uncurling fern plant. When bone is worn on the skin, it changes colour as oil is absorbed. The Māori took this to symbolise that the spirit of the person was inhabiting the pendant.
When someone gives a pendant to someone else, it is the custom that they wear it for a time so that part of their spirit is given as well. (Take note those of you who received a pendant from me).
Check out the link below which will take you to Google Images for more examples of koru.
"http://images.google.com/images?hl=EN&q=koru+symbol&btnG=Search+Images&gbv=2&aq=f&oq="
So, anyway, I'm now back in New Zealand, trying to catch up on sleep and schoolwork and with friends and family to give out the prezzies (regalitos) I bought for them in Argentina. I also want to account for the last few days in Argentina as there were some pretty special moments which need remembering.
On Thursday, my English class with Gabriela started with farewell pastries and my cultural contribution of Vegemite on crackers. One person commented that it was a bit like caviar which I could honestly say that I understood his comparison. (A long long time ago, on a training college trip to Noumea, I was at event where crackers topped by a dark substance were being handed around. Oh how quaint, I thought, somewhat naively, Vegemite on crackers. Eventually I found out that a small amount of caviar had been completely wasted on my uneducated palate.)
After morning classes, I went shopping with AFS contact and STEP teacher Gabriela who took me to get a beautiful stainless steel bracelet resized for me. It was a gift from Mariela and Gabriela, along with some fabulous Argentine music CDs and some children's songs CDS in Spanish. This was wonderful as I'd been so confused by the range available in the music shop that I couldn't make any decisions myself. (I am writing this with the "Los Nocheros" CD playing in the background and it's just soooooooo reminding me of Argentina!).
Many of the shops in Parana are quite small and boutique-like and I wonder how they can all survive with so many other little shops selling similar products. To get into the jeweller's you had to knock on the door and be allowed in. I think there might have been a few shops like this in Parana and probably elsewhere. Melisa and I went into a reasonably large shop that sold beautiful leatherware and likewise we had to knock on the door for it to be unlocked.
Family member Melisa has her own shop, and celebrated her fifth anniversary by having the shop repainted and some refitting done over Easter. She sells gorgeous clothes which can all be mixed and matched.(Labels: Silenzio, Yagmour, Ver & Taal Equipe) Her shop is called "Mia" and is at 25 de junio 83, Parana, Entre Rios. Phone 0343 4217141. (25 de junio 83 is actually the name of the road.)I bought some tops for me for winter and a few prezzies which will remain undescribed as the recipients don't know about these yet. I also bought some fun coloured socks which were very cosy to wear on the plane- and I wish I had bought more. If you are in Parana you should go and shop there as the clothes are lovely and so is Melisa. She also keeps a large jar of lollies (candy) under the counter so ask for one next time you are in her shop.
Thursday night was my last Spanish lesson with Peter and Adriana and I had to read out my homework, in Spanish, which was to describe the typical characteristics of Argentine men and women. Somewhat limited by vocabulary and extensive research opportunities I came up with:
Argentine men are pleasant and handsome. They like sports, especially football and basketball. They like asado also. Argentine women are very beautiful and thin. They like perfumes and shoes and they love shopping.
Adriana advised that Argentine women also love buying handbags! We also learned the "pretorito pluscuamperfecto tense" i.e. When I arrived at my home, Mariano had prepared the asado. (see previous post,"We'll Meat Again"). A very helpful tense when you want to find something has already been done by the time you get home. Which was quite useful, because by the time I did get home, cousin Mariano was indeed lovingly and skilfully preparing the asado for Daniel's birthday and family gathering.
Peter, the AFS student from Iowa, me and Adriana - evidence that Argentine women are indeed thin and beautiful. Peter is the only other English-as-a-first-language speaker I met the entire time I was at Parana, and even then we found it difficult understanding each other.On Friday I didn't go to school at all and spent the morning shopping, visiting the cathedral and the Escuela Normal with Melisa.(see previous posts). In the evening I went to Carmen's for a STEP teachers' get-together. When family member Alejandro asked me what I had done on Friday night, (apart from me totally misunderstanding him and regaling him with what I was going to be doing on Saturday night) I eventually was able to reply with, “ There were 8 women teachers from STEP sitting around the table discussing diets and then we ate pizza and cake.” So once again, the similarities between Argentina
Empanadas - jamon y queso (ham and cheese) and usually in a semicircle shape. These ones were really cute and, as always, very nice to eat.
Carmen and pizza.
Chocolate and dulce de leche cake... with frosting.There are some serious calories attached to this cake.
On Saturday morning I packed my bags and prepared to go home. In the afternoon I went with Melisa to her Rikudim (Israeli folk dance) class- which was great to watch and to listen to also, and then I went with Mirta to pick up the cakes for the evening party. Mirta drove and I held one large high cake-with-very-soft-icing-whipped-into-peaks on my lap and helped another torte balance on the top of the dashboard. If she stopped suddenly or turned a corner too tightly - I would be wearing cake, literally. Both cakes had white frosting made with egg white and sugar. It looks like an uncooked pavlova mixture and is pretty rich to eat, as is any self-respecting cake in Argentina.
That Saturday night I had two parties to attend. The first one was at Roxana's from STEP and this was one of my "Tests" where I organised the taxis to and from there myself. Roxana has the most gorgeous home with lots of colours and pictures and interesting things on the wall (with one new addition now, from NZ). It reminded me of a fairy-tale cottage on the inside. We had a whole range of delightful nibbly bits and exquisite sandwiches, each coming out one at a time rather than all the food on the table at once. Roxana's daughter had also made the most beautiful cake too, a piece of which I took with me because I just couldn't keep up with all the eating required.
The guests
Round one of the nibbly bits.
Then I rang and got another taxi to take me back to my home for my very last night and another party with friends of Daniel and Mirta for Daniels' birthday... and more food, including more fabulous desserts with dulce de leche and a particularly nice lemon cheesescake. Some of the people I had already met but I bravely introduced myself to others and was able to maintain a reasonable level of conversation. Thank goodness for interesting family and friends! Over the course of a month, because I was repeating the same information on my family and friends to many different people, I acquired a reasonable level of fluency in this area. People would often comment on how well I was speaking Castellano and then, when we moved onto another area of conversation, I was often lost and unable to contribute.
There was more food, and inevitably, more cakes. See below:
The lemon cheesecake, made by one of the guests, Mirta's famous bread pudding dessert, the dulce de leche torte and below, yet another cake with frosting:
The party continued with most of the men at the table singing Argentine songs, all of which were unknown to me yet all instantly recognisable as Argentine. Several took turns to play the guitar and it was a wonderful way to end my last night in Argentina. My contribution was, (with the guitar) to sing one verse each of Tu Tira Mai, Po Kare Kare Ana and Po Ata Rau (Now is the Hour), which were well received and made me feel very relieved that I could contribute on a cultural equivalent.
In keeping with any self-respecting South American party, I finally got to bed at about 4am the next day.
A Few Final Random Observations:
- When having everyday conversations with people overseas, it is a good idea to know the current price of petrol, the average price of houses, the price of meat (of considerable importance in Argentina), and a few other supermarket staple foods for comparison. I wished I had taken a supermarket docket with me.
- Having the weather, time and NZ dollar value compared to the American dollar and Argentine peso "gadgets" on the desktop of my computer was always interesting and meant I could easily give accurate and simple information about NZ when needed.
There was more food, and inevitably, more cakes. See below:
The lemon cheesecake, made by one of the guests, Mirta's famous bread pudding dessert, the dulce de leche torte and below, yet another cake with frosting:
The party continued with most of the men at the table singing Argentine songs, all of which were unknown to me yet all instantly recognisable as Argentine. Several took turns to play the guitar and it was a wonderful way to end my last night in Argentina. My contribution was, (with the guitar) to sing one verse each of Tu Tira Mai, Po Kare Kare Ana and Po Ata Rau (Now is the Hour), which were well received and made me feel very relieved that I could contribute on a cultural equivalent.In keeping with any self-respecting South American party, I finally got to bed at about 4am the next day.
A Few Final Random Observations:
- When having everyday conversations with people overseas, it is a good idea to know the current price of petrol, the average price of houses, the price of meat (of considerable importance in Argentina), and a few other supermarket staple foods for comparison. I wished I had taken a supermarket docket with me.
- Having the weather, time and NZ dollar value compared to the American dollar and Argentine peso "gadgets" on the desktop of my computer was always interesting and meant I could easily give accurate and simple information about NZ when needed.
- Houses (in Parana and probably many other places in Argentina) on the outside can often be just plain walls right on the footpath, with perhaps a closed shutter or two and then a main door, or double doors - but no hint as to what lies behind them. But sometimes the door opens into a courtyard with rooms off to the sides, or a huge open sunny room with skylights or a delightful cosy home. There are not nearly as many windows as NZ houses (weather and security reasons I guess, and most windows have shutters and certainly few houses are on sections surrounded by grass and garden. Security is very obvious and most homes have bars or some other added form of security around any accessible entrance to the house.
- Most houses have some form of security alarm. Some houses have a perimeter alarm also which can be on all day or night while you are still inside the house. You just need to know which windows are connected to the alarm!
- When there are a lot of couples at a party, it seems inevitable that the men will sit in one area discussing men’s business and the women will gather in another area discussing women’s business. Another universal truth!
- Farms in Argentina have huge round haybales similar to NZ. Fields are huge and were probably for cropping as I never saw any cows or other bovine evidence between Parana and Buenos Aires although there were miles and miles of fields. It's not to say they weren't there.
- What we in NZ would call left-overs or "bubble and squeak" in Argentina it is known as "ropa vieja" or "old clothes" . What asado you don't eat on one night will taste even better the next day for lunch.
- The combined adventures of Veronica-from-Wellington and me, from our homes in Argentina to New Zealand are worthy of their own final post, which could probably also be my final post my intrepid exploration of language learning in Argentina.
Watch this space.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Plane Sailing?
Well here we (Veronica from Wellington and I) are at BA airport, two hours after our plane should have left.... waiting and waiting with five minutes of power left on my computer.
After a 6 hour bus trip from Parana for me and a 10 and a half hour bus trip from Cordoba for Veronica, we finally met up at the BA bus station and jammed in an old taxi, with all our luggage plus an AFS volunteer , without using the boot or safety belts because access to both was impossible.
Looking forward to finally landing safely in NZ.
After a 6 hour bus trip from Parana for me and a 10 and a half hour bus trip from Cordoba for Veronica, we finally met up at the BA bus station and jammed in an old taxi, with all our luggage plus an AFS volunteer , without using the boot or safety belts because access to both was impossible.
Looking forward to finally landing safely in NZ.
When the Going Gets Tough
I have still got at least one one more post to add as the last week flew by and I have not yet accounted for everything or everyone.
This update was going to being posted at the Buenos Aires bus stop VIP lounge. I had just been met by a lovely (I must find a new word to describe people in Argentina) AFS volunteer, Carolina, who was waiting with me while we waited for Veronica-from-Wellington (but recently of Cordoba) to arrive, so we could all head off to the airport together. However, it just wouldn't publish, so was saved until I got home to sort it out.
Mariela and Gabriela, AFS volunteers and also STEP teachers, along with Mirta and Melisa, were all at the bus stop at Parana to see me off. It was very difficult saying goodbye and and also difficult to realise that this was the end of a thoroughly amazing month's experience, the memories of which will last a life time.
Just as the bus was backing out, Roxana and her son, Juan, arrived so I hope you saw me waving to you. It was lovely to see you and I appreciate the effort you put into getting there.* Wipes tears from corners of the eyes*
After a month – I have achieved some immediate language goals which I set soon after arriving. They were first, to be able to have a conversation with Blanca, the great grandmother of the family who neither speaks nor understands a word of English so “negotiated” conversation using a combination of languages was not going to be an option; and secondly to be able to use the telephone to ring for a taxi and to give all the necessary directions for the taxi to find me and then to deliver me to my intended address.
Blanca and I have been able to frequently discuss the weather, which fortunately has been obligingly consistent. Although, today, and only for the second time since I’ve been here, it is raining. I’m taking that as some sort of sign that my time here really is over. It’s very much a case of the End of the Golden Weather.
I am also able to share opinions on the cuteness or energy levels of the great grandchildren at family gatherings and we have also shared an opinion on the outcome of several basketball games we have attended together. Again, I’ve been fortunate because Sionista have won every one of their home games since I’ve been here. I’ll take that as a sign too. Today I was able to have a very simple conversation with her on the phone before I left
In a “foreign” country, being unable to have a functioning level of language acquisition is a little bit like having a disability - in that it is difficult or impossible to function at the same level as everyone else without specific support or systems in place to safely complete a manoeuvre or to meet your own needs. For example, most times when I have needed to get to or from a school by myself, I have used a taxi, because it’s either too far, too hot or not enough time to walk. Someone has always rung the taxi for me and given the driver the instructions, often with an additional “She doesn’t speak the language” in cautionary warning tones.
So, my first step towards independence was to carefully enunciate the address, under Mélisa’s supervision, to the taxi driver she had called to her address, “Urquiza antes Belgrano, Insituto Ingles, STEP, por favor.”
I’ve ordered taxis and given directions a few times now and have thankfully ended up at the desired destination every time. Can you imagine any other time where educated adults would cheer and clap because another educated adult had just made a brief call to order a taxi? Such was the response of my lovely colleagues from STEP on the two occasions where I have instigated the taxi ride in their presence. My personal satisfaction was way out of proportion to the simple transaction I had just completed but it at least meant I could move one box up on the self-assessment chart I have to complete as part of my mission.
Random Observations about Taxis:
Just about every taxi has something dangling from the rear vision mirror, usually a religious accessory of Catholic persuasion and/or a sign that says, “No Fumar”, but I went in a one last night that had a Christmas tree-shaped USA flag in the dangling position. When I asked him what it meant … he said, “air-freshener”. And I was expecting something with deep and meaningful cultural significance!
As mentioned previously, it is impossible to find a safety belt in the back seat of a taxi so it is best to focus on the rosary or cross dangling from the rear vision mirror and hope that it works for keeping random foreign Protestant passengers safe.
Taxi trips from STEP to home are between $5 - $6 pesos depending on traffic lights (or clearing up after an accident). One night, a particular taxi driver almost flew through crossroad intersections and lights, paying little heed to obstacles (people, dogs, motorbikes, horse drawn carts) in the way. It was one of those times when you
Final Dog Story:
Today I saw at least 1 dead dog in the middle of the road near the river as we were doing a final “sweep” of the area on my way to the bus. There might heave been three dead dogs or one dead dogs and 2 black rubbish bags – hard to tell from the distance. I’m pretty sure dogs don’t take their siesta in the middle of the road.
Kiss and Tell:
How do I know I have fitted in and have assimilated some of the culture? Because when I first came here I was nervous and bewildered by the whole greeting and farewell process - even though I knew on paper what to expect. Whereas in NZ, in many circumstances, a raised eyebrow and a slight upwards tilt of the chin is a sign of recognition and informal greeting, that would never do in Argentina and would possibly be mistaken for an involuntary twitch needing some form of medication or therapy. I think I have been kissed in greeting and farewell more in times in my one month in Argentina
It took a bit of time to get used to. Where I have been living in
One of my earliest gaffes was within 5 minutes of arriving at my Parana
Another gaffe I made was when I smugly thought I had got my head around the whole kissing process and decided it was time I instigated the gesture. Once more, my inability to comprehend the subtleties of Castellano at speed, meant that what I had thought was, “ I’ll see you when you come back,” was in fact,”When will you come back”. And my response was to kiss them on the cheek and say, “Chau” which means good bye. There was a bit of bewilderment there for a while too.
Everyone kisses everyone else, pretty much, and the greeting and departing can be a wonderfully warm and ice-breaking gesture. It actually, once you get used to it, is much more comfortable than the frequently uncertain “do I shake hands or not, who will instigate the gesture, do I give a small nervous wave and say Hi, do I just raise my eyebrow” dilemma that we often have in NZ.
In Parana, at a family or any other party gathering, everyone who comes in works their way through those already gathered, giving a right cheek to right cheek kiss, usually with a hand on the shoulder – for balance or an extra physical gesture, and often a hug if the person is well known or a close family member. There is usually a “hola que tal” or “Hola Com’en das” or something which sounds similar and is probably the Argentine equivalent of “Hihowzitgoin? Being kissed-in-greeting by everyone certainly makes you feel welcome, included and accepted.
Some of my most special memories of this gesture are when students have come up to me and kissed me on the cheek as they left the room after a lesson – and this includes young students from about 9 years old. It always took me a bit by surprise but it was lovely and certainly affirming of whatever I had just done with them. It’s one of those “You had to be there” things. People do not seem to have a problem with being physically close to each other here. This would NEVER EVER EVER happen in any of my classes I have ever taught in NZ and could possibly get me fired.
But, as I got to know people better I could confidently greet family members and acquaintances and be an equal participant rather than just someone who was a passive recipient. And yet, I don’t think it’s something that will transfer back to NZ with me apart from with those very close friends that I only catch up with occasionally. I will revert to type and fit back into the NZ culture of discomfort when someone moves into your personal space.
One of my most interesting adult English classes was trying to get information out of them on what were the essential characteristics of the Argentine male and female (a homework task I had to complete for Adriana, in Castellano, of course). So, I gave some examples of the stereotypical NZ male characteristics and tried to explain how a NZ man would be likely to feel as he was being kissed in greeting upon arrival at a party in Argentina
Saturday, April 18, 2009
We´ll Meat Again
No, it´s not a spelling mistake.
This post is dedicated to the manly art of asado. Many (most/all?) ) houses have an asado area, and for some, it´s a complete second kitchen in a covered outdoor area. This is serious stuff needing some serious asado-ware. This post is for meat eaters only. Vegetarians or the squeamish should avoid reading this. The men tend to do the asado which is lovingly, bordering on reverently prepared. All parts of the beast (bovine including veal or ternera) go on the asado, and it is best not to look too closely or wonder too much about the origin of each shape - or colour of the meat.
This is the some of the extended family and friends gathered for Daniel´s birthday. This is the covered area just outside the house and the asado preparation and sink can be seen behind.
This post is dedicated to the manly art of asado. Many (most/all?) ) houses have an asado area, and for some, it´s a complete second kitchen in a covered outdoor area. This is serious stuff needing some serious asado-ware. This post is for meat eaters only. Vegetarians or the squeamish should avoid reading this. The men tend to do the asado which is lovingly, bordering on reverently prepared. All parts of the beast (bovine including veal or ternera) go on the asado, and it is best not to look too closely or wonder too much about the origin of each shape - or colour of the meat.
This is the some of the extended family and friends gathered for Daniel´s birthday. This is the covered area just outside the house and the asado preparation and sink can be seen behind.
This is how you approach an asado - and once that lot is finished, it gets topped up again. This is cousin Sebastien.
First - prepare the coals.
Try and identify the body parts if you can,. This is veal or ternera.
This is cousin Mariano who lovingly and seriously prepared the asado. It was a work of art- right down to the carving and presenting of the meat.
This is Daniel at a previous asado for a smaller gathering.
This is the asado area.
These are just some of the options:
.... and now for something completely different....
First - prepare the coals.
Try and identify the body parts if you can,. This is veal or ternera.
This is cousin Mariano who lovingly and seriously prepared the asado. It was a work of art- right down to the carving and presenting of the meat.
This is Daniel at a previous asado for a smaller gathering.
This is the asado area.
These are just some of the options:
Below is the Catholic Cathedral in the main square of Parana. It´s style, according to an architect student friend of Melisa, is ¨eclectic.¨
I went inside while having a wander around the city yesterday and found myself at the end of the sermon and then holy communion. I sat at the back , (or stood or kneeled - just followed everyone else) and listened and was able to pick up a bit because, the preparation for communion is pretty universal. The inside is magnificent and reminded me of all those cathedrals we visited in Europe. It is huge inside and there were people coming and going quietly without disturbing the flow. Seeing I will miss the monthly church service at Otaua tomorrow, and seeing I´ve got 13 hours on an airplane to look forward to with my usual trepidation- it seemed like a good idea to spend some time in quiet contemplation and to put in a polite request for a safe trip.
There were two women sitting in the doorway begging as people came in and out. It didn´t seem right to just walk past them - especially mindful of the irony of just being on the presence of Jesus-who-cared-for-the-beggars, however, I watched what everyone else did and quietly followed suit - and stepped around them without making eye-contact. I had to reassure myself that I´m here to fit in and not to change the world - but it was still an uncomfortable feeling after having spent a few righteous minutes previously. However, I had already avoided beggars in the biggie of all Catholic cities (Rome) a few years ago so it was another opportunity to practise the "When in Rome, do as the Romans do...." principle.
There were two women sitting in the doorway begging as people came in and out. It didn´t seem right to just walk past them - especially mindful of the irony of just being on the presence of Jesus-who-cared-for-the-beggars, however, I watched what everyone else did and quietly followed suit - and stepped around them without making eye-contact. I had to reassure myself that I´m here to fit in and not to change the world - but it was still an uncomfortable feeling after having spent a few righteous minutes previously. However, I had already avoided beggars in the biggie of all Catholic cities (Rome) a few years ago so it was another opportunity to practise the "When in Rome, do as the Romans do...." principle.
¨¿Who are you, who-oo, oo-oo?¨ (Cue C.S.I. theme music)
Check out the new heading ... I have just learned how to add a photo. This is so that family can recognise me at the airport, and to provide evidence that I have met some of the intercultural objectives during my one month here.
You will observe three recognisable Argentine icons: the blue and white sports shirt, (in this case, rugby), a tray of empanadas (in this case ham and cheese filling in pastry, baked) and asado.
Here is your sleeping dog photo for today. This guy just fell asleep in the middle of the footpath because it was mid day and siesta time. Such self-assuredness is not often seen in NZ dogs. You can see someone walking past behind him. I´m sure these dogs would bite, and I´m sure house-dogs would bite, but these guys don´t seem to go looking for trouble.
You will observe three recognisable Argentine icons: the blue and white sports shirt, (in this case, rugby), a tray of empanadas (in this case ham and cheese filling in pastry, baked) and asado.
Here is your sleeping dog photo for today. This guy just fell asleep in the middle of the footpath because it was mid day and siesta time. Such self-assuredness is not often seen in NZ dogs. You can see someone walking past behind him. I´m sure these dogs would bite, and I´m sure house-dogs would bite, but these guys don´t seem to go looking for trouble.I´d love to know who has been reading my blog as the counter is clicking over. I´ve only got one more day left in Argentina and then, missing a day, arrive back in NZ on Tuesday morning... Hopefully, I can add a few more pictures and anecdotes - it just depends on accessibility to an internet-friendly computer.
Feel free to leave a message or comment - check out the small print at the bottom of the post to work out how to do it , or email me at kayosnz@yahoo.com .
Also, to all those of you in Argentina who I said I would love to talk to you on Skype -my username is kayvincent otherwise, just search my name and the country ¨New Zealand¨.
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