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.

When the Going Gets Tough

Which really means: Arriving is easy, going is not.

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 Parana.

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.” …and we got there. Great joy! The next step was to order the taxi over the phone myself. I had to write down all the directions and practise to make sure people around me could understand me first. “Por favor, un coche para cuarente y siete Nogoya. Mi apellido es Vicente.” This was great – until the operator responded with a question and I had no ideas what he said. Panic! In the end I said, “O.k?” in a Spanish accent and he replied, “Si OK.”

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 start to imagine how your death notice would read, or the “She should have been wearing a safety belt!” comments, and where you regret the flippant comment, “Well, if I’m going to die/be injured at least it was doing something interesting in an interesting place…” I arrived safely and relieved, in record time, and only had to pay $4 pesos. Although for one peso extra I would have gladly had a slower ride.

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 than in the entire rest of my life.

It took a bit of time to get used to. Where I have been living in Parana, shaking hands seems to be a very formal optional extra and has only happened here with me (I think) when people know a bit about English/American culture and want to greet me in my own cultural expectations.

One of my earliest gaffes was within 5 minutes of arriving at my Parana home when I knew I was being introduced to someone but completely missed the rest of the details. So I put my hand forward to shake hands with a bewildered woman who was the cleaner/housekeeper. This, I learned, was far too formal and probably best reserved for the bank manager.

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, and then, how NZ men would feel if an Argentine man kissed them in greeting at a party in NZ. Spot the intercultural moment!

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 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....

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.

¨¿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.

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¨.

Black to School

While you have just completed your first week of holiday (teaching colleagues and students in NZ) I have been going to two different schools a day. I know, I’m not sensing any sympathy over this.

For the past two weeks I have been going every day for a few hours to the CAE school which is a private school attached to a sports club with a rugby field and swimming pool. It seems most of the boys play rugby or football and most of the girls play hockey and most of the students are passionate about sports. The school is only about 8 years old and goes from kindergarten to high school. It has upstairs and ground level classrooms with an external staircase and a long verandah running the length of the school. As with all the classrooms I have seen in Argentina so far, they are smaller than those of NZ but the numbers of students are fewer and furniture is mainly desks and chairs so the need for extra space is not as great. There is a lot more echo in the rooms than I have been used to because the surfaces are concrete or other hard materials.
CAE is made mostly of concrete blocks, painted white, and concrete floors.

The school has a very wide door/gate which is locked and to get in I have to ring a bell. I didn’t see the bell the first time I went there by myself, so had to ring Marcela, my contact, to let me in. Sylvina, the secretary and English tutor elsewhere, was a fantastic help too, and was able to find classes for me to go and generally help me find my way around. I gave her a copy of Ellis´s 10 Principles of Second Language Aquisition and a copy of An Intercultural Stance - The 6 Principles of Intercultural Communicative Language Teaching and Learning so an intercultural and pedagogical moment was also shared .

I spent some time with English classes right throughout the school. One of the most confident speakers in English was a German exchange student (learning Castellano in a school in Argentina! – I thought that was amusing).

This school runs right throughout the day with no early closing or siesta break but has different times for each section of the school to have breaks. I taught several classes “My Roadside Goat”, a bit of a silly song which I’ve done with schools for years and which I had previously filmed (había grabo en video ¿Did I get the pretérito pluscaumaperfecto correct, Adriana?) amiga Viv singing with the kids at The Gardens School to show how it should sound. It’s great for learning the past tense – I need a similar song in Spanish – and is easy to learn because every line is repeated after the teacher. They had a lot of fun with it and I have filmed one group singing along with my computer, joining in with The Gardens School kids and Viv. Another intercultural gem!

These students speak English so well, at whatever level they are learning. They loved the chance to ask me questions and it didn’t matter if it was the same question over an over again, they all got a chance to use English in an “authentic context’. I have been asked what is my favourite colour, my favourite animal, my favourite number, my address, age and family statistics. And then I ask them the same question back. When asked my age, I used my grandmother’s standard response, “ I am the same age as my tongue and a little bit older than my teeth,” which takes a while for kids in any language to work out – and then I tell them I am 21 because they want to hear a number. Kids would come up to me shyly, often with a friend, and say, “Hello, What is your name?” or any of the aforementioned questions, and then I was swamped by a gathering mass of young students during recreo with the same questions asked again. They would have asked different questions but they, like me, were working on a limited set of formulaic questions, responses and vocabulary.

When I brought out my silver fern on black background flag, there was instant recognition and many of the boys just had to touch it, breathing “All Black Flag” in reverent and awe-inspired tones. There was no similar response when I showed them the official NZ flag, and I’m sure that must say a lot about the branding of NZ in Argentina, if not the rest of the world. I brought some stickers of NZ icons to give out randomly as we do in NZ and now I wished that I had brought more stickers of the All Black jersey as they are by far the most popular. Even in my adult English classes, when I gave people the chance to choose a sticker for their books/cellphone etc, the rugby jersey was the most popular, even if only to take home for a son or nephew who played or followed rugby.

I was able to sit in on some other lessons including geography, computer and drama (for classes the same age I teach in NZ), where the teachers spoke no English and explained to me what the students were doing and learning. I went to lunch with a group of students on one day, at the club restaurant, where I had two hamburger patties, some fried rice and an apple and a lot of interesting conversations. Some of the boys were pretty keen to talk to me because I tell them I like rugby- but then I am expected to tell them who my favourite All Black is. I usually ask them who theirs is first then reply, me too.

A drama class at CAE school . The boy with his arms out is a shower (and a passionate rugby player) and the one underneath... is showering.

These are some of the girls from CAE who had lunch with me.

I brought with me several of Laura’s “Smoke Free – Smoking, not our Future” posters and these are now on classroom walls around Paraná exhorting the youth of this city not to smoke. We have had fun translating them and some students can now say “Aye?” because on DJ Sir-Vere’s poster, he says, “It’s just not a good look, aye!” For once it meant I knew something in English that the English teachers didn’t know. The teachers of English here are so proficient in their knowledge of vocabulary and grammar, and fluently reel off the names and parts of tenses or speech when referring to them in the course of a lesson. Just about everyone who is brave enough to speak English with me has a better grasp of my language than I have of theirs. But, I know that I am learning and today I was able to use the past tense correctly without referring to my book for confirmation. This has not stopped me from attempting to use the past tense previously, it just means that now I am starting to make sense. I was able to say quite accurately that “I bought (Compré)…..and then I needed to look up the word for socks!”

On one day, I went with a lovely young teacher (also called Mélisa) to her second school which was a public school back in the middle of the city. We caught a bus and then went to a school which is two floors up in a large building. I think another school takes up the first two floors. These students, about Year 11, had only been learning English for a while and were a lot noisier and boisterous than other students I had come across – they were also a lot more facially pierced and did not wear a uniform. In spite of this, they were not rude or disrespectful to the teacher at all. Their English was quite basic as they had not started at primary school and not many were keen to have a go at asking me questions.
Melisa -the-teacher (not the Melisa with whom I am staying) and her class of English students at one of the public schools in Parana.

Mélisa brought out some of the Smokefree merchandise rulers and pens I had given her and if a student wanted one they had to ask me a question in English, or they had to say a simple speech about them self in Castellano and English for me to film for my students in NZ. All the merchandise went! These students were more inclined to follow football, and one was able to explain to me what Cumbia music was by letting me listen to his ipod which he found more interesting than me for most of the lesson. Teacher Mélisa, was absolutely lovely and I am so pleased I got a chance to meet her and go to a totally different kind of school.

Today, my host Mélisa took me to an amazing old school in the middle of the city. It’s like a cross between the Auckland War Memorial Museum, the Auckland Town Hall and a bit of Harry Potter – except in need of maintenance as so many building in Paraná seem to be. It’s called Escuela Normal, and it goes from kindergarten to university level and has, apparently over 5000 students through it a day. It is about to celebrate its 135th anniversary and boasts the oldest kindergarten in Latin America, originally started by teachers from the US. There are some cabinets of historical artefacts and trophies of past students who have achieved significance nationally or beyond. There is a grand marble stair case as soon as you walk in the door and the steps have worn down over the years though the amount of traffic over them. Some of the furniture is incredibly old and has been there for many years. There is the most glorious stained glass window and an internal courtyard.

The kindergarten playground, on the roof top at the Escuela Normal. Spot the differences.

This is one of the Junior Classrooms at the Escuela Normal Public School - it is several flights of stairs up.

This poster was on one of the notice boards - for any Oasis fans

This poster was on one of the notice boards - for any Oasis fans

This is some of the ¨antique¨furniture which is still used on some of the classrooms at Escuela Normal.



This is the view from one of the levels down to the ground level.,

This is the beautiful stained glass window.

There are so many differences between schools in NZ and Argentina, but teachers and students are pretty similar with the same stresses and challenges everywhere I think.

Random observations::
- Twink or white liquid eraser seems to be the graffiti medium of preference here.

- Students wear a lot of jewellery or accessories if they want to.

- I am now able to cross a road with reasonable confidence and do not need to wait for someone else to cross before I realise it is ¨safe¨for me to cross.

- I´m pretty sure I can find my way back home from at least three different points in town.

- I am starting to bump into people I know - after one month!

¡Feliz Cumpleaños Para Laura en NZ y Daniel en Parana!

It's the 17th of April in NZ and the 16th of April here in Argentina. In NZ it is daughter Laura's 23rd birthday and in Parana it is my host. Daniel's *cough, cough, cough, hand over mouth, sorry if you missed that number* birthday.

Please excuse this personal indulgence, dear readers.

So, Happy Birthday to both of you.

Laura you will have to wait until I get home for your present, but here is something which I hope will do for the meantime. It's your own personal greeting from a class of students at the Instituto del Club Athletico Estudiantes de Parana.

They are looking at our family photo on my computer desk-top. The general opinion is that you are very beautiful and that you look like me... join the dots on that one! (People also say that Julian is good looking and looks like his father.)

I hope you have a great day.

Getting Tense With Verbs - or Living in the Past

This is the second post of the day so make sure you read the previous one first. I seem to be having major troubles transferring blogs from my laptop via pen-drive to another computer to get the internet.

And now for the verbose part..

Daniel and Mirta (host family) have helped me so much to learn Castellano that I probably owe well over half of my working vocabulary to them. Daniel didn’t think he had much English but we frequently use a mixture of both English and Castellano and we occasionally resort to a French word when it can better explain our ideas or identify a word easier. Needs must when the flow of conversation and communication is more important than 100% accuracy, especially in a busy family with lots of comings and goings.

Melisa speaks English well and we use a mixture of both, although we usually use English when confirming comprehension of specific meeting places and times and when talking on the phone to each other. When people are busy, I am particularly mindful of how time-consuming communicating with me in Castellano can be! Mirta is very strict about my learning and doesn’t use English at all with me although she can speak a little. She speaks very clearly and slowly to me and has a really good way of keeping explanations or questions simple … and she doesn’t mind repeating things syllable by syllable if necessary and she has excellent diction. I can’t expect everyone to be so patient with me all the time, especially when they can get their meaning across easier in English when in a hurry, so I really appreciate her time and effort.

Although I understand the masculine and feminine endings of words, singulars and plurals, etc, I frequently make lots of mistakes in my efforts to speak a bit faster than laboriously word by word with “ums” and “arrs” in between. Daniel and Mirta patiently and tolerantly correct me and explain rules to me and off I go again. Likewise with verb endings in the present tense.

Note to self: The next time I go to tell a student, “I’ve told you this several times before…blah, blah, blah….” I will remember these moments of feeling really “dumb” because knowing something does not necessarily mean you can use it or do it spontaneously.

I have been using a small and invaluable phrase book to help me with standard and predictable vocabulary and phrases. The three pages on common regular and irregular verbs have been well thumbed and I frequently stop mid-sentence to open my book and search for the correct verb ending. For the life of me, I cannot remember them and I make the same mistakes over and over again. Paul-from-Hamilton-who-is-staying-in-La Plata told me that he frequently says, from his limited vocabulary, that his “head is broken”. I use the saying. “My disc is full” to indicate that I can’t take on board any more information.

So I have usually been talking in the present tense and use the word for “yesterday” or “tomorrow” or similar to indicate past or future. It must be excruciating for people trying to listen to me but, mercifully, it’s often a mutual arrangement as I spend as much of my time speaking in English to people wanting to practise with a “real” speaker, as I do in Castellano. It is a very small price to pay in return for all the help I have had. And then, sometimes things suddenly fall into place and I have a new formulaic phrase to use and off I go with a small burst of proficiency.

There is a 2 year old member (Sophia) of the extended family who is at that “sponge” stage of soaking up everything around her and then surprising people by coming out with expressions and opinions which totally stun everyone and she is now at the stage where the family think she is a wee genius, as does the family of most other two year-olds world-wide. I feel very much like Sophia, who has been watching, listening and processing, then making intelligible pronouncements when all the information makes sense. It feels great when people comment on how much better I am getting at speaking and understanding Castellano.

I have had 2 Spanish lessons so far with Peter, the AFS student and Adriana, who is a Spanish English translator and a teacher at STEP. She learned British English as opposed to American English that most other people speak here and she has the most beautiful ¨Spinglish¨ accent which I love listening to. I have been learning the past tense (pretorito perfecto y pretorito impefecto) as I have pretty much been stuck in the present tense since I have been here. We had a truly “intercultural language” moment when I was trying to explain something to Peter in English, and the word ‘leg’ was necessary. He could not understand me repeating, “leg…. leg … you know, leg.. L-E-G…” and in the end he said, “¡Oh, pierna!” which is Spanish for…leg. He could not understand my English accent and we had to move into Spanish for mutual comprehension. Such is the difference between American pronunciation and New Zealand pronunciation of the same word.

I also helped Adraiana’s English by suggesting she say, “Hang on” instead of “ Wait” every time she needed to pause. Peter said this was OK in American English too.

Update: I can now discuss rugby and colder weather with taxi drivers. My conversations were previously limited to expressing opinions on heat. I think I have discussed rugby more in Castellano than in English.

So, anyway, on Easter Sunday I went for a Sunday Drive with Daniel and Mirta to Santa Fe on the other side of the river. Just about all of the day was conducted in Castellano, including a description of how the tunnel under the river actually goes under the ground as well; and how there was a severe flood a few years ago which inundated part of Santa Fe but not Parana.

We went for lunch at a new shopping/hotel/casino complex and afterwards checked out the Casino. I am a “remedial” gambler in that I need help to get started rather than to stop gambling. After watching Mirta and helping her lose a few pesos, I frivolously parted company with 50 pesos (about $25NZ) and was lured into winning about $80 pesos… and I should have stopped there, I guess. I’m still not sure how the game worked, I just randomly pushed a few buttons which Mirta suggested…. until I lost the whole lot. However, I did learn a new word that day (I lost – perdi ) so all was not lost after all. My limited vocabulary could only come up with, “The casino ate my money.” (El casino comió mi dinero…note the correct use of the past tense!)

My lovely, generous and oh-so-patient hosts, Mirta and Daniel.

Some culture is universal....

Fast food in Argentina

Sunday was completed with an asado by Daniel and delicious-as-always dessert by Mirta – which was, I think made with bread, for a gathering of family and friends.

Random Observations

I have met so many young people who are so well-educated or in the process of their studies. There are doctors, lawyers, pilots, psychologists, nurses, bio engineers, computer software designers and so on come to STEP, or other private institutes to learn English. Also, university education is completely free in Argentina, apparently. Last night at the conversation class I met a young woman of 21 years old who is studying bio-engineering and working on a project to put implants into people to help them control prosthetic legs better –so people could run with prosthetic legs if they so desired … (that piece of information is for Clive – hope all is going well now that you are back home).

Toilet paper seems to be very thin in Argentina – and runs out very quickly (refer to previous warning to ALWAYS carry tissues).

And, while still on toilets…so to speak… teachers apparently use the same toilets as students in most schools. No preferential treatment.

And, moving slightly off the toilet… many bathrooms and some public toilets include bidets. These, (and I think I always knew this but never had a chance to prove it) do not make good footbaths as there are too many taps to operate and water coming from too many directions to successfully manage while balancing on one foot when the other foot is trying to hold down the water spurting upwards, onto the ceiling and the floor.

It is unsafe, and only slightly less suicidal than throwing yourself under a moving train, to use a pedestrian crossing in Paraná. Do not be fooled by the white striped lines -they are for decorative purposes only.

There are lots of small and large memorials to people and events, and many schools named after people of significance. Many roads are named after dates for example: 25 de junio is the name of a road.

Roads are not called roads – they just have names like: Nogoya, 25 de mayo, Malvinas, Nux, Panama, Belgrano etc. (You would appreciate the clarity and size of the road signs here, Mark.)