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!
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