Happy Easter!

Happy Spring to you all!

This time of year at Marquette is always special. Summer (and finals) are within sight, and the campus comes to life again—especially the area around Joan of Arc. Events like Relay for Life, Hunger Clean-Up, AIDS Awareness Week, springtime retreats, and end-of-the-year dinners always make me feel especially connected to the campus and Milwaukee community. Intramural softball games are no longer played in freezing cold weather. I don’t have to wear my mittens and scarf to class. And, with any luck, it warms up enough so that I can resume my runs to the lakefront and back and play volleyball in Henke field with Molly. I remember an extra-special day my freshman year when Katharine and I wandered around the better part of Milwaukee, including the art museum, lakefront, and the east side, and arrived exhausted outside Robbie’s dorm at MSOE. Springtime in Milwaukee is lovely, and I miss it.

In addition, I missed Easter with my family this year, which wasn’t easy. I love all of our little traditions—stuffing and coloring eggs with my sister, helping my mom arrange the menu and the house, attending the beautiful Easter Vigil service at St. Raphael’s, watching my dad prepare his famous fish, greeting everyone as they arrive on Easter morning, enjoying the phenomenal food and, afterwards, plopping my stuffed self between Britt and Beth on the big chair, and trying to outsmart the Trupp boys in the Easter Egg Hunt.

But here in Chile, it has begun to get dark much earlier. I used to go for my runs at about 8:20p.m., planning for it to get dark shortly after 9. Now, I have to go around 6, as it’s totally dark by 7. Leaves are falling from the trees, though it’s a different sort of autumnal shedding because they’re not turning pretty colors (silly Mediterranean climate!). The days are still warm, but it has definitely cooled off, and there has actually been a breeze lately. It hasn’t begun to rain yet, but I am told that we are entering the wet season here soon. The Santiago sky is pretty freakish, though; we have yet to receive so much as one drop of precipitation in the several months that I have been here. Every day is sunny and cloudless… at least that’s how the smoggy sky makes it look. The sky reminds me of someone who is unable to cry, and I’m actually excited to see Santiago “express itself” and shed a few raindrops. I may regret saying that when I’m cold and sick of gray skies in a month, though!

Anyway, it’s pretty weird that we are in the equivalent of “October” here right now, and yet I’m trying to continue celebrating the miracle and mystery of Easter—a season heavily associated with light and new life of all kinds. It’s interesting that our associations are so conformed to our customs, though. For example, why would Chile’s Santa Clause need to be wearing that heavy outfit and that fuzzy hat when temperatures hover around 100-degrees here at Christmastime? Likewise, the typical language used to talk about Easter, in conjunction with springtime, does not fit here. Sometimes I think we forget that the world is a big place. And, for that matter, that Jesus was from the Middle-East! Where did our Christmas imagery even come from? I’m not sure it snows there…

Moving on! I should mention that, although I do miss celebrating this season in my “normal” context, it has been a wonderful and interesting experience to be away for a spring/Easter. I spent Holy Week in Buenos Aires (and Easter here in Santiago), and I will write all about that in a few moments. First, because I’m so behind on this blog, I’m going to cover a few highlights from the first week of April.

In short, things were getting quite rhythmic. I was running three or four times a week, going to classes (which are, to be honest, somewhat boring—though I appreciate the minimal work I’m required to do), and enjoying my leisure time, often used to explore the city or hang out with friends. Weekends are fun. This particular week (which seems like awhile ago now!), I had volleyball on Monday only, which continues to prove entertaining, though I really am grateful for the opportunity to hang out with a really great group of girls and play a sport I enjoy. I had a nice long lunch with my friend Esteban on Wednesday, which was another highlight of the week. That same night, Lizzie and I tried to go to a poetry reading at a bar/café/restaurant in Bellavista, but due to a huge soccer game, every eating/drinking location was focused on sports that night. Instead, we enjoyed wine and quiche and had a really nice conversation. Lizzie is definitely my closest friend here in Chile, and I am SO grateful for the relationship we continue to develop. She is a strong-willed, reflective, critically-thinking, independent, decisive person, and I’m definitely growing from my time with her.

On Thursday of that week, a bunch of people from our program decided to go to a concert in Barrio Brasil, which is really close to my house. I called Yolanda and Liz to see if they’d be interested, and the two of them met me for some pre-concert drinks. We ended up having way too much fun with that portion of the night, and after two piscolas each, we were having a giggly conversation and Yolanda was calling some boy and humiliating herself on the phone. Yolanda is so sweet and silly, and it’s AWESOME to have a Chilean friend. Plus, she and Lizzie hit it off right away too, so now my friends are friends, and we can all hang out together… and speak Spanish! She’s super-patient, as are most Chileans, which continues to astound me. But I definitely appreciate it! I’m going to miss her when I have to leave; it’s crazy that, even despite our language barrier, we have clicked quite quickly. We’ve had good talks on our way to volleyball and such—about our families, our beliefs, our respective languages, our areas of study and our future hopes, etc. etc. etc.—and I think that’s so incredible that we can bond like that even with a more limited mutual vocabulary. That’s why learning languages is SO beautiful!!

Anyway, after our “tragos” (drinks), we met up with the group of people at the concert, which turned out to be QUITE the experience. It seemed like everyone in our group had gone totally insane, and the concert itself was pretty wild too. The band was a huge group named Commotion, and their style of music is something called “gitano,” which, as I understand it, has some association with witchcraft or something. The members of the band were wearing colorful costumes and playing sort of atypical instruments. At one point, they all gathered on the dance floor and processed toward the stage with a crazy intensity that seemed meant for some kind of ritual ceremony. It was a pretty cool show—until it turned into a somewhat-scary mosh pit. Shortly thereafter, we headed home. All in all, though, it was a really fun night—and it was something new and different!

On Friday, Yolanda had decided we were going to have a “carrete” (the Chilean word for “fiesta”/party). So, Lizzie and I met up with her and her friend Daniela, who is also totally sweet, and we bought some snacks and, of course, some Mistral—my favorite type of pisco. I had sent a message to everyone in our program, informing them of this little get-together, but people seemed to be going in all different directions this particular evening, so no one could really come. Our plan was to hang out for awhile at Yolanda’s, conversing and snacking and sipping some piscolas, and then we wanted to go dancing in Bellavista at a place called Jammin’, which Yoli really likes. A bunch of Yolanda’s friends showed up, and we played music and danced around and acted silly. It was all fun and games, and then someone got hurt; silly Yolanda, dancing around on a chair, fell down somehow and actually sprained her ankle. I didn’t realize it was that serious until she called me the day after and informed me that she’d be out of volleyball for two weeks, which SUCKS because practice/going to practice is so much more fun with her there! Anyway, the dancing component was canceled, and we are now determined to have a Mexican-themed party soon, when she recovers. Still, it was a good Friday.

Lizzie and I sometimes get together and just find something to do. Saturday night, we saw a movie in German, with Spanish subtitles! It was an art house movie called “4 Minutes” (playing at a theatre here called El Biografo), and it was actually pretty good, but there were so many languages happening all at once. Surprisingly, it stopped feeling like so much effort, and I understood pretty much everything that people were saying, based on my subtitle-reading. My brain was tired at the end, but the experience was pretty cool—I felt like I was actually getting smarter. After that, we had a yummy dinner at an adorable little place in a neighborhood near Bellas Artes, a part of town that we always enjoy but don’t explore nearly enough.

We didn’t go out on Saturday night because Sunday was a big day. It was Palm Sunday, the day of the 10K I’d been training for, and the surprise birthday celebration for our good friend Josh. I woke up at around 6a.m. on Sunday morning and got myself prepped for the race. The starting point was outside La Moneda, which is only one Metro stop away from my house, so I had planned to just walk there, stretch for a bit, drop off my bag at the designated location, and perhaps find Lauren, the other girl from my program who was going to run the 10K, before beginning. For some reason, everything was way more frantic than my plan was meant to be. I arrived a little late, couldn’t figure out how to drop off my bag, couldn’t find Lauren, and couldn’t even locate the start of the race. Not good. Eventually, I realized I’d never find Lauren, and I luckily found the place to put my bag and made my way, frazzled and more-or-less unstretched, to the Start.

They say that 16,000 people took part in the Marathon/Half-Marathon/10K that day, and I’m pretty sure that the majority of them ran the 10K. I spent the first third of the race trying to get to an open space so that I could run at a consistent pace, which was sort of annoying. However, the rest of it went really smoothly. There were two water stops, a few Chilean bands playing on the sidelines every once in awhile, and lots of interesting things to look at as we ran our 6-mile loop around the city. In some ways, it was totally different than doing a run at home; there were very few spectators, people were cutting corners by running up on the sidewalks, and no one was calling out “splits,” which probably wouldn’t have even helped me because it was all in kilometers and I really only know my mile-splits. Anyway, I had my go-to running mix playing on my iPod, and I was jogging with thousands of other people through the streets of Santiago, Chile on Palm Sunday, so I was pretty happy. I had enough energy to really accelerate for the last kilometer, and I crossed the finish line at about the 54-minute mark, which is good for me! I found Lauren almost immediately afterwards, and we took advantage of the fruit and water being handed out. Then, we stretched, and I walked home, arriving at about 10.

The plan was to meet a bunch of people at a Metro stop about 10 minutes from my house in order to go together to Mass at the top of Cerro San Cristobol. The meeting time was 11 because Mass begins at 12, and the climb to the top takes a little while. I had invited Jill to join our group for Mass, and she took me up on the offer, which was so great. Walking towards Cerro San Cristobol on such a lovely day, with all of my post-race endorphins, with Lizzie and Jill on either side of me, made me feel so content!

When we got to the hill, we realized our plans were once again going to have to adjust to Chile-plans. There was a group of people, holding palms, gathered around a priest and a Cross, and it was clear that the Procession was going to begin from there after a Reading and a few insights from the priest. I was eager to take part in whatever the celebration would entail, but it put a wrench in our surprise plans. See, Josh only knew that a group of us was going to Mass and then was going to have a picnic in the park. What he didn’t know is that our small Mass group wasn’t everyone—while we were in Mass, a HUGE group of people was setting up a really wonderful picnic, and we were going to meet them all at the designated picnic site after Mass. Now, though, we weren’t headed to the top of the hill—we were headed to a Church a few blocks away! I think Hanna made a call to tell the picnic people that things weren’t going exactly as planned, and, in the end, it all worked out. The procession was beautiful. People were singing “Hosanna” and waving MASSIVE palms, and we stopped once or twice to allow the priest to bless elderly people who had wheeled themselves out to the curb to watch us pass by. Mass, too, was lovely, though it went a bit longer than we expected and we were all so hungry!

I led us astray on our way up the hill, which really isn’t surprising, but we landed close enough to the picnic site that we were able to figure out a path there anyway. When we arrived, about fifteen people were already there, and there was already lots of food ready and several blankets spread out. Josh was definitely surprised, as he thought that our group of 7 or 8 was going to be the entire group for the day. The picnic was beautiful: good food, a lovely grassy area (called Parque Japonés), and lots of happy people. We were totally relaxed, and we spent a few hours playing “500” because Esteban brought a Vortex, one of my favorite toys EVER! (Remember, Dad? You threw mine away!!!) It was a really wonderful afternoon and a really wonderful Palm Sunday.

To top it all off, I spent that night watching a movie with a bunch of girls. We went to Julia’s because she lives in an apartment with a girl from Mexico and a girl from Spain, so it’s a totally different setting than most of us are used to. IT WAS WONDERFUL. Living with a host family has its benefits, and it also has its difficulties. After being so independent at college for the past couple of years, it’s challenging for me to have to tell people where I’m going all the time, try to balance time at the house and out with friends, and so forth. Being in Julia’s apartment was so nice because we could lounge, sip wine, turn up our movie was loud as we wanted, act silly, and just relax. It’s hard to totally relax at my house, even though I think I know my family a lot better than I used to, and it was a really nice end to a great day. Plus, I was super-excited because the NEXT day, I was leaving for Buenos Aires!!

And so begins the chronicling of that particular adventure. Are you ready for Buenos? I’ll give you a minute to go grab a “trago” or visit the baño while we have a word from our sponsor, Fanny Pack, the, believe it or not, super-trendy, official device for carrying one’s stuff in Santiago.

COMMERCIAL BREAK.

Alright, welcome back! Let’s take a collective deep breath, annnnndddddd…. Buenos!

Our flight was at 4-something on Monday afternoon. So, I spent the morning packing, having lunch at school, getting a few things done on campus, and then meeting up with Liz and Caitlin to go to the bus that takes us to the Santiago airport. Esteban managed to find me to say goodbye really quickly, which was nice because I actually hadn’t been able to say goodbye to anybody that morning, which had been kind of strange (I guess my family didn’t realize I’d be leaving while they were all still at school/work/wherever). Donning our huge backpacks once again, we boarded the bus and let it sink in—for the first time, really—that we were going to Buenos Aires!

We flew LAN, which was lovely. We each had our own TV and could choose a current movie to watch. Liz, Caitlin, and I all watched “Revolutionary Road,” but the flight was so short that we only got half-way through it. The best thing about flying in this country, though, is that wine is available at no additional cost. So, we were content.

We gained an hour coming into Argentina, so it was dark when we got to Buenos. We took a cab to our hostel, and the ride through the city made us so excited. We had booked a hostel in a part of town called Recoleta, which is a really nice, safe area of Buenos Aires, and, per the recommendation of my dear friend Ali, we stayed at a place called Hostal El Sol. The hostel occupies space in a really old building on a corner in the heart of Recoleta, and although it’s not the nicest place in the world, we had everything we needed (bed, shower, kitchen), and the hostel staff were SO wonderful. We met Noah, who is from Vermont and has been here in Chile trying to learn the language for a few months, and the owner, Paul, who is Chilean by birth but grew up in L.A. and has now been in Argentina for nine years. Both spoke English, so that was helpful when trying to coordinate important things, and they both gave us a lot of suggestions throughout our time in Buenos, so we always felt like we were in really good hands. (Side note about the showers here, though: we walked into the bathroom and looked for the shower and found, instead, a showerhead mounted on the wall of the bathroom. As it turns out, the entire bathroom IS the shower. This is a very strange concept, and it makes things a bit difficult. For example, where do you put your clothes so that they don’t get wet while you’re showering in the entire room?! And how do you avoid leaving the next person with slippery floors and soggy toilet paper? It’s all very complicated.)

We got ourselves orientated via a brief discussion with Noah about the city’s lay-out and some safety tips, and then went out to dinner at a place called La Libertad, following a recommendation from Noah. We’d heard that the Italian food in Buenos was supposed to be really good, and we weren’t disappointed with the pasta at this restaurant. Lizzie ordered gnocchi with pesto sauce that literally melts in your mouth! We were a bit surprised, though, when we got our bill and saw that there was a “table service” charge (for the “free” bread). This is an Argentina thing, and we learned the lesson the hard way and knew, after that point, to make sure that our waiter/waitress didn’t continue to refill our bread basket and charge us for it each time. (This reminded me of you, Katharine, as you often tell me that there is “no such thing as a free lunch!”) Despite the extra charge, which was really only about $1 or $2, it was a really enjoyable meal. After dinner, we went right to bed that first night, as we planned to get up and get going the next day. Or, to use Lizzie’s favorite phrase, we planned to “make moves.”

We woke up a little late on Tuesday, bought some groceries, and had breakfast, which included some of the best yogurt I’ve ever had. Not to mention, this yogurt comes in little glass jars, which are sooo cute. (We had four yogurts each throughout the week, and we all returned home with a little set of these jars, which can be used for wine, storing things, little flowers, and a vast number of other situations in which one finds one’s self wishing one had a cute little glass jar.) Then, we headed out, planning to find ourselves a tourist center and snag a map. Unlike our other travels, we were not equipped with much information. I’d done some research online about sites to visit, and Lizzie had talked to Berni, her rockin’ host mom who lived in Buenos for several years, but we were without our trusty travel guides, which had helped us immensely during our other trips. When we got to the tourism kiosk, no one was there, and before we could come up with a plan B, a friendly porteño (this is what people of Buenos call themselves) approached us and directed us to a different kiosk. We were thrown off by his helpfulness, but his suggestion was perfect, and we picked up a great map and a little book with all the sites of the city highlighted. This got us through our entire stay, and we were glad we hadn’t purchased a guide book just for the week (I’d thought about it, but they’re so expensive here! Actually, books in general are pricey in Chile).

For some reason, although we were thrilled to be in Buenos and thrilled to be traveling again, we were all feeling a little lethargic. We’d gotten a lot of sleep the night before, which we probably needed, but perhaps it was TOO much. So, we plopped ourselves in the nearby park (we later learned this was Plaza San Martín), and we paged through our new materials. We stayed there for awhile, trying to figure out why we were so tired, trying to create a plan for the next few days, and getting periodically distracted by the people and noises of the plaza. Buenos Aires is a really beautiful city, and the plaza was a great introduction to some of its best assets—the trees. They are huge, old, and almost mythical-looking, and we found ourselves directly under a tree that looked like it had been there long before the plaza was built. It was hot (about 2 in the afternoon by this point), and we enjoyed the shade, the light streaming through its hefty branches, and the chance to sit down and stop sweating. But, after awhile, we decided we had to push through out lethargy and get moving—we wouldn’t be in Buenos forever, after all! We’d created a rough itinerary for the next couple of days which would allow us to see a lot of the city, and while we’d left room for flexibility and spontaneity, we’d have to get moving if we wanted to see everything we were excited about. We decided to start with the plaza we’d already found ourselves in.

As it turns out, Plaza San Martín is currently home to an exhibit called Buddy Bears. For those of you who hail from Oshkosh (and especially you, Zak, since I dragged you all around town for these!), you’ll remember the “Pride of Oshkosh” lions—thirty-three uniquely decorated lions set about the town, each with its own theme/story/significance. These Buddy Bears were somewhat similar, though there were MANY more of them, and they were all standing in the same place—in a huge circle, their arms raised such that it looked like they were all holding hands. The traveling exhibition is a United Nations project, and each Bear was decorated by an artist from a different member-country of the UN, so there are Bears from all over the world.

We walked around the plaza, looking at each Bear. They are really beautiful, and we were especially in awe of the Bears from some of the world’s poorest nations, which were absolutely stunning. Anyone who says that cultivating the arts should take a back-seat to other means of alleviating poverty is missing a very important idea: art is liberating! These Bears told stories and were incredibly moving, and it just further reinforced my longing to see the whole world. I can’t choose a favorite, but I will mention that we were disappointed in the U.S. bear (decorated as the Statue of Liberty)—can’t we think of any other symbol, something not made of stone, to represent our colorful, vibrant nation? And, the Irish bear was decorated like a leprechaun (the Celtic cross was on the BACK of the bear), which I thought was sort of lame because there’s much more to Ireland than stereotypes of red-headed people, too. Anyway, the majority of the Buddy Bears were really awesome, and it was a great way to rejuvenate ourselves.

We walked through the Plaza, past Argentina’s version of the Big Ben, a tall clock tower called Torre Monumental (or, more commonly, the English Tower), and began to make our way toward our next destination, the Recoleta Cemetary. We had heard a lot about this beautiful cemetery, so after a fairly long walk there, we were pretty disappointed to find that it had just closed. Although, it was still worth the effort because we found a cute café where we were able to sit down and enjoy the sandwiches we’d packed (our traditional cheese and tomato combo) along with some YUMMY cappuccino drinks. I’m not a coffee drinker at home, but Lizzie and Caitlin have been desperately longing for some sort of real coffee because the only thing in Chile is Nescafé, and I guess it’s awful. These cappuccino drinks hit the spot for all of us, even though ordering them was a really big pain because the cashier didn’t have change. This is a problem we have run into several times during our time in Chile and Argentina, and we never understand how it’s possible to run a business without having CHANGE for your clientele. Anyway, we relaxed for a good hour, enjoying the afternoon, as it had finally cooled off and the sun was setting, glowing through the bell tower of the nearby church.

We explored the area immediately surrounding the cemetery, called the Cultural Center and Terrace area of Recoleta, and we saw a sign for an acrobatics/tango show that we really wanted to see later that week. I also found the Buenos Aires Hard Rock Café, where I purchased a shirt for my collection (!), so it wasn’t a total waste of a trip. Our other idea for the day, as it was also in the area, was a visit to the Museo de Bellas Artes (Buenos Aires’ fine arts museum), and luckily that was still open when we got there. Well, two of the three floors were open, and it so happened that the middle floor was the one that interested us most (Chilean/Latin American/Pre-Columbian art), so what we saw was a lot of European art (a Rembrandt, some Picasso drawings, and a few lovely Impressionist pieces were probably the highlights). There was also a photography exhibit with a bunch of really-close-up still life pictures of dried fruits…shockingly beautiful, though a bit too strange for me (I generally enjoy photos of people/dynamic situations more). The museum was alright, housed in a huge old building which, in a past life, pumped the city’s water supply, but I’m not sure it would be my first suggestion for someone visiting the city. Still, it was a good place to stop.

We decided our legs were tired and our lethargic bodies had had enough, so we called a cab home. It would have been possible to walk, but we still weren’t sure exactly where we were going and it was dark and we were tired; plus, cabs in Buenos Aires are really quite reasonable. The exchange rate is something like US $1: AR $ 3.80, and most of our cab rides were AR $9- AR $15; when you divide that by several people and then convert it into US dollars, it’s really cheap. Despite that none of us were able to remember exactly what corner our hostel was located on, we managed to direct our friendly cab driver successfully to our hostel based on the few things we did know. After that, we took note of our intersection: Marcelo T and Montevideo.

That night, we decided to cook our first meal in Buenos Aires. Lizzie and Caitlin and I are so used to traveling together by this point, and some people can’t believe that we’re still doing it. After February, some people grew apart or, at the very least, realized that they needed to take a break from each other. Amazingly, the three of us aren’t totally sick of each other. We have a good rhythm and enjoy our time together, especially cooking! (I realize this will shock everyone at home who knows me and has ever seen me struggling in a kitchen.) We’d purchased items for our stir fry when we visited the grocery store earlier, so everything was ready—including our first bottle of Argentinian wine! (Side note about the grocery store experience: it was overwhelmingly enjoyable. The food in Argentina is just better than the food in Chile. There are more options, especially when it comes to CHEESE—there are tons! We found ourselves quite distracted by the different brands of chocolate, wine, and everything else in the grocery store there. However, I realized that while I thought my little containers of peanut butter are expensive in Chile, they’re absolutely ABSURD in Argentina, where you can pay about US $9 for a LITTLE jar of Planters.) We whipped together a yummy “stir fry” (with palenta instead of rice) with broccoli, mushrooms, onions, and tomatoes, and we enjoyed it on the rooftop patio along with our bottle of wine. All in all, an enjoyable meal!

That night, we wanted to go out, but it was a Tuesday during Holy Week, so we didn’t get the impression that the city was very lively. We tried to go to a place called Notorious (a nearby jazz club we’d heard about), but it was already full. So, we found ourselves at a cute little bar located in another renovated building. The city is full of old, European-style buildings, and it makes for some really quaint little places. It was ladies’ night (how convenient), so our drinks were 2 for 1. I had no idea what to drink, as there was no Pisco option—this is one reason Chile is better than Argentina, haha!—so I just got a Tequila Sunrise, followed by a Seabreeze. Pretty bizarre drinks for a cheap night out, but it was fine. Our waitress spoke TERRIBLE Spanish, and we soon learned she was from Texas, so we chatted with her a bit.

It seems like there are a lot more foreigners in Buenos Aires than in Santiago, and it would definitely be possible to live there and no very little Spanish because you can always find someone who speaks English. This is sort of nice but also not the best place for learning the language, in my opinion. Furthermore, the accent is really different! We liked it because the people of Argentina speak SO MUCH more clearly than Chileans, so it seemed like a cakewalk when it came to understanding them. But, there are some interesting elements to their accent as well; for example, while usually the “y” and “ll” are pronounced similarly in Spanish (like “yo” and “llamo” are both “y” sounds), the Argentinian accent reflects a heavy Italian influence, and they have converted these sounds into something like the “dg” sound in “judge.” So, we had a bit of difficulty with that for the first day or so, and I still haven’t decided how I feel about it. Anyway, it was a pretty quiet night and we got tired after awhile, so we went home to bed. I know we sound kind of lame, but we really wanted to strike a balance between saving money and enjoying ourselves and going out at night but still being able to get up and see things/enjoy touring the city in the morning. So, we let ourselves get some sleep—most of the time!

The next day (Wednesday), had been designated Museum Day because Noah had told us that the museums in Buenos were free on Wednesdays. So, after another delicious yogurt, Hanna, Lizzie, Caitlin, and I headed out on the town. (I forgot to mention that there were ten of us girls from Santiago staying in Hostal El Sol. We came in a few separate mini-groups, which works out better for traveling/moving about the city, but it was pretty fun to have a bunch of friendly faces around, and we got to mix things up a little too!) First, we went to the cemetery, which we hadn’t been able to visit the day before. It was marvelous! Like the one in Punta Arenas, it seemed like a city in and of itself, and there were tons of cypress trees, as if we’d jumped out of Alice’s Wonderland. But, unlike the cemetery in Punta Arenas, where there were many smaller graves, the Recoleta Cemetary was mostly grandiose mausoleums. We jumped on a tour which had just begun a few minutes before, and our guide was the sweetest little lady—very passionate about the cemetery, the hidden symbols on the various engravings, the statues, etc. She showed us the tomb of Eva Perón (Evita), and gave us a quick biography of the famous Argentinian singer/First Lady/workers’, women’s, human rights advocate. We also saw the tomb of the President, who recently passed away, a girl named Rufina, who was supposedly buried alive (her mausoleum now is decorated with a statue of Rufina, which is a glorious, massive, pensive-looking, figure who has her hand on the door of her own tomb), and the Paz family, which is the wealthy family that used to own La Prensa (the newspaper) and a big building called El Círculo Militar (found in Plaza San Martín). Even though looking at all of the marble got old after awhile, the statue atop the Paz family mausoleum was still astoundingly beautiful. Make sure you check out my Picasa site for all of these photos, by the way!

After leaving the museum, we passed by a big sculpture of a flower. It consists of several huge metal plates (“petals”) which open and close at sunrise and sunset, respectively. We took a five-minute break to enjoy it and relax in the grassy park. It was a sunny, beautiful day (like each day we had in Buenos!), and although it gets tiring walking around in the heat all day, we were excited about our next stop: the MALBA Museum. This is sort of a contemporary art museum, but not completely. There were three different floors, and each one had a lot to offer. They had a Frida Kahlo painting and several Diego Rivera works, but there was so much more, too! I loved it. Our next visit was to the Museum dedicated to Eva Perón, where we learned more about the life of this young, amazingly dedicated woman. We also got to see some of her outfits—she was incredibly fashionable. People loved Evita, and people hated her, but it is very clear that she worked very hard and cared very much for the people of Argentina. I am looking forward to reading more about her, as she is really important in the history of Argentina, and I feel like there’s a lot more to learn about her. Perhaps I should start by FINALLY seeing the Madonna movie? When we left the Evita museum, we headed to Palermo Viejo, a hip little neighborhood where, regrettably, we really didn’t get to spend much time. We got some ice cream, though, as we’d been told that it rivals the ice cream in Chile. Due to my personal attachment to Chilean ice cream, I am not willing to suggest that Argentinian ice cream was superior, but it was, as Chileans would say “super-rico!” in its own way.

That night, we had plans to go to a rocking show—an orchestra of young guys who play tango music. In Argentina, as you may be aware, there is a long and important history of the tango. It started out as a dance that developed in the poorer areas of Buenos Aires, but soon it was being performed by people from the upper classes too. There are several different versions of the tango, and I’m definitely not an expert, but I think they’re all beautiful! This particular show wasn’t going to be a dancing show, but the band was supposed to be phenomenal (“They rip their instruments,” Noah told us), so we were pumped. First, we got ourselves ready and went to dinner at a place called Chorlita, where Noah said we’d find some of the city’s best steak. It was incredibly nice of Caitlin and Lizzie, my little vegetarian amigas, to accompany me on this experimental outing. I just HAD to try Argentina’s world-famous steak! Now, I don’t eat that much steak as it is, so I’m not one to give an expert assessment on this particular meat, but it was pretty good. They gave me SO much meat, though, and I wasn’t even that hungry (after our ice cream in Palermo), and we were a tad rushed, but nonetheless, it was a good thing that we went to Chorlita so that I could give it a try.

We finished our meal with just enough time to hurry back to the hostel to drop off my leftovers and find out that…BUMMER… we’d received an email from the show saying it was full for that evening. We decided that, since there could possibly still be standing room, we’d go and check it out anyway. So, we went, and we were disappointed again. No room. Period. We returned, down-trodden and defeated, to the hostel to see what else was going on. A bunch of people had decided to go out to a place nearby, called the Shamrock, so we joined them. But, it was kind of creepy. We ordered a beer, avoided the lack-of-dancing that was going on in the strange dancing area (very disappointing, especially since people are ALWAYS dancing in Chile!), and then we left.

The next day was Holy Thursday, and I’d wanted to get to Mass, but it just didn’t work out with the plans for the day. We spent the morning in La Boca, a poorer area of the city renowned for its tango in the streets, colorful streets, and cheap souvenirs. We took a cab there, since it would have taken awhile to walk there, and our taxi driver was an enthusiastic woman eager to tell us all about the boring governmental buildings we were passing. This was a good thing, though, because it helped us orient ourselves, and it saved us visits to these “important” sites. Suffice it to say that huge buildings no longer impress me. We arrived in La Boca and found ourselves in the middle of a cheap little crafts market, where we purchased a few things for ourselves/others. We then made our way to the colorful, bustling cobblestone street nearby, called El Caminito (literally, the Little Road). The buildings were brightly colored, and there were these funny little statues waving from the balconies. People were selling things in the streets, dancing the tango, handing out flyers for the various restaurants, and bustling about— basically, it was a bit like a Chilean Disneyland, as Lizzie put it.

It’s vibrant and colorful, but it’s a bit odd because, just off of this touristy street, people are actually living, very humbly, and it seems such a strange thing that this modest little neighborhood has become such a tourist hub. Our favorite thing was getting off of El Caminito and walking around a bit. We saw some beautiful graffiti, commemorating the people who had gone missing during the war a couple of decades ago, and we got to see people actually living, which was refreshing in comparison to the stifling main-drag bustle. But, we did sit at a table on El Caminito to watch some tango, and it was wonderful! We even saw two guys tangoing together, which I don’t think happens very often. The service at this restaurant was absolutely terrible, and we waited over a half hour for some tiny little empanadas. Then, we left La Boca and headed back to the central square of Buenos, called the Plaza de Mayo, because we had an important engagement at 3:30p.m.

Since the war, when many people’s friends and family disappeared or were murdered, the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo (Mothers of May Square, to translate literally) gather every Thursday at 3 or so to march around the Plaza in solemn silence, share their stories with those who wish to hear them, sell books, pins, and postcards, and continue to be a presence—reminding everyone that they are still fighting for the same human rights issues that their sons, daughters, cousins, husbands, and friends were fighting for when they disappeared. The Mothers were absolutely beautiful—so moving! We marched with them, and I bought a poetry book and a few postcards with artwork on them. We didn’t really get to talk to them, but I really wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. Their demonstration spoke volumes, though, and the fact that, every Thursday for years, they have marched around the Plaza (located right outside Argentina’s governmental headquarters, the Casa Rosada), is a true testament to their dedication and strength. The Mothers are much older now than when they began, and they march slowly, their heads covered in the white handkerchiefs that have come to symbolize their cause and their presence in Buenos Aires. They were, hands-down, my favorite thing about Buenos.

We didn’t have tons of time after that, so we toured the Cathedral quickly, wandered around a bit in the downtown area, and took a cab home. There, we got ready, had some yummy tacos, and headed to our most exciting event: a tango show! We had booked ourselves a table at Café Tortoni, a super-famous venue which has been tango central for years and has seen numerous famous acts/guests in its time. The place itself is historic. It is a cozy little venue, and there's a stage downstairs in a warm room with brick walls, which made for an intimate atmosphere.

Lizzie, Caitlin, and I got a table right at the front, which we shared with, ironically enough, a guy from Chile. It was a bit depressing, actually, because we started talking to him and had a really hard time understanding a lot of what he said—it’s so much easier to understand the people in Buenos! The show itself was wonderful, though it began with a less-than-impressive theatrical element that could have been eliminated. The dancing, though, was beautiful! There were three couples in total, and I loved watching their feet and their emotions. Tango, like many dances, seems to be a lot about expression, and they were wonderful. In the middle of the show, a few guys came out and whipped these cord-things around, making these really awesome beats. They were sweating and it looked incredibly complicated. I’m not even sure how to explain it, but it was awesome. To top it all off, we had some delicious wine and a reallllly yummy Tiramisu-like dessert. What a night!!

We had told Noah that we’d go out with him that night after our show, so we met up with him and everyone else when we returned. We headed to a place right next door to our hostel. It was actually really weird. They were playing awful 80’s music videos, and there was no one there. I didn’t feel like spending money or drinking, so I just hung out for awhile, but when it became clear that the music wasn’t going to improve and the place wasn’t going to get very much busier, we left. It was kind of fun to hang out with Noah, but even that couldn’t keep us there all night. As it turns out, we had a pretty hard time trying to go out in Buenos Aires, which really surprises me. Maybe because it was Holy Week there weren’t as many people out partying? I have no idea. But it was lame!

Friday was our last full day in the city, and we had exciting plans. We woke up and made our way, slowly (we stopped a few times to shop and, of course, sample the delicious alfajores that Argentina has to offer), to San Telmo, the historic tango district of Buenos Aires. This was probably my favorite part of the city. It’s colorful, paved with cobblestone, and very café/theater-oriented. The culture still feels alive, unlike the forced, fake feeling that one gets in El Caminito in La Boca. We browsed around the central plaza there, where I purchased a leather bracelet that I love and a few other souvenirs. Then, we had a yummy pizza lunch at a cute little place on a colorful corner. It was a relaxing morning, made for meandering, and I so wished we could have explored more. But, we had a hot date with a Good Friday Mass in the Cathedral in the Plaza de Mayo, and before that, I wanted to make one more stop.

In Milwaukee, there is a beautiful Art Museum, which many of you have probably visited, and it’s designed by the Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava. His public art is always abstract, simple, and beautiful, and the Milwaukee Art Museum is one such example of this. So, when I learned that there was a bridge in Buenos Aires, called Puente de La Mujer (Bridge of Woman), designed by Calatrava, I was so excited! On our way back to the Plaza de Mayo, we walked along the waterfront (the area is called Puerto Madero and is dominated, unfortunately, by a lot of big businesses and restaurants like TGIFriday’s and Hooter’s…gross). The Bridge leapt out at us like a huge needle sticking out of the water. It is beautiful, though simple, and the more one looks at it, the easier it becomes to see Calatrava’s inspiration: a couple doing the tango. It is simple but lovely, and I’m totally obsessed with the fact that it is called Bridge of Woman—for a few reasons. First, although the phallic needle-like structure sticking up seems to be the main focus of the bridge, and is clearly the representation of the male dancer, the bridge is named Bridge of WOMAN, and the focus is really on the bridge itself—the woman, who is being “dipped” during the dance. The cables that connect one part to the other seem like indications of the woman’s movement as her body slowly tips backwards in the elegant, passionate, classic tango pose. I loved it. And, to top it off, every street in this particular neighborhood is named after a famous woman. Score.

Good Friday Mass at the Cathedral was pretty frustrating. It was totally packed, so we had to sit on the floor in the side aisle. Plus, it was really dark. The Cardinal was presiding, and everything was very dry. Veneration of the Cross didn’t occur until after Mass, and we really didn’t have time to wait around for the huge, unmoving line. Plus, the whole Mass, people kept coming in and out, touring the Cathedral and making tons of noise. It wasn’t the place I would have ideally spent my Good Friday service, but I was thankful for the opportunity to attend.

Afterwards, we headed to the hostel to get ready and go to that acrobatics/tango show that we’d seen advertised on our first night in Recoleta. We were really excited about it, but, as our luck would have it, we arrived at the location and found out that the show, for some reason or another, wasn’t happening that evening. We were a bit upset—things like this just kept happening to us, and it didn’t seem fair. But, things happen for a reason, and we spent the night instead at Notorious, where we purchased a few CD’s, drank some wine, and listened to a PHENOMENAL band from Peru. So, it turned out OK after all.

We stayed in that night and shared "mate" with Noah. Mate is tea, but it’s meant especially for sharing and there are many customs associated with this experience. There’s a certain mug and straw you use, and you pack it in the cup a certain way and then pour the water a certain way. Then, you pass it around the circle and share it, and one person is in charge of re-pouring the water and serving it to the next person each time. This can go on for hours, and it’s a really social event. It was enjoyable to just hang out, talk, and share this yummy drink. Paul was playing Beatles songs for some of the other girls in a different room, and when we went to bed, there was an overall good feeling in the hostel. But, we were pretty sad that it was our last night in Buenos.

We woke up on Saturday and wanted to do some quick shopping, so we browsed around the neighborhood for awhile, had some lunch, got our things packed up, and that was that. We headed to the airport around 2 because Caitlin had to take a plane home around 4 and Lizzie and I had a flight around 5. We were not very excited to end our time in Buenos Aires, but surprisingly, it felt good to come back to Santiago. It felt like home.

That night, we had tickets for “Jesus Christ Superstar”—in English! We had no idea what to expect, and as it turns out, the production was nothing compared to those at home. The actors were terrible, didn’t sing on key, and seemed to be devoid of emotion OR wayyyy too expressive. It was humorous, at the very least, and I am happy that we got to see a theatrical presentation of some sort and that we got to hear the music (even if it was terrible) because I love the songs from that musical. We spent the night at Lizzie’s, which was really nice because none of us wanted to go home and none of us wanted to wake up alone on Easter morning either. This turned out to be a really good plan because, on Sunday, we woke up, got dressed in our cute little outfits, went to a lovely Mass at a nearby parish (it was actually held in a gym, but it was still nice—and the homily was about women’s rights and women’s importance in the Church, so that was neat!), and then we purchased food to make ourselves a delicious Easter meal. We bought a home-made Tiramisu from a man selling them outside Mass, which was a perfect complement to the rest of our meal: veggie omelettes, a wonderful fruit salad, Mimosas (of course), and some yummy bread we’d purchased that morning. We prepared and shared our meal together and, although it was weird to be away from my family and everything, it was so nice to have two friends I really care about to share Easter lunch with. Plus, I got to Skype with my family afterwards, which was SO wonderful. It was so great to see you all!!

I am pretty exhausted from typing all of this, and I think I’ll wrap it up, even though I haven’t said much about this week. To be honest, nothing too eventful has happened. I had a volleyball game on Thursday, which we lost, but now we know what we need to work on. I am enjoying my time on the team, and I’m glad I have something like that to be committed to. Also, Lizzie and I went to our service site on Wednesday. We didn’t do much except sit and eat with some of the girls in the program, but I guess that’s how it will be for a little while until we develop some sort of relationship. I’m realizing that a lot of my expectations (like “I want to figure out what I want to do with my life” or “I want to make a real difference”) were a bit unrealistic for a six-month period in a foreign country. Every day is a growing experience, and I’m learning so much—it just so happens that the things I’m learning are not the things I expected to learn. My time here, perhaps, is about BEING much more than it is about DOING. And that is a healthy, though hard, thing to learn.

Tonight, I am watching the Brewer game at Esteban’s. I have no idea why it’s being televised here, but I’m very excited!

I am planning to visit Chile's desert north in the coming months, and I’m greatly anticipating my Mom and sister’s visit in another month. Time is FLYING, but I still have lots to look forward to, and I’m trying to enjoy every second of it!

I hope you are doing well. I hope it is getting warmer. I hope you are still burning with that Easter spirit. I miss you and love you and pray for all of you each day.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Love,

Amanda