I'm going on 6 weeks here in Argentina. Since I'm becoming accustomed to how things work here, I've decided to dedicate the form of this blog to serve as a representation of the lifestyle here in Argentine: without form, but somehow (and don't ask me how) it works. As such, I've decided to PROPERLY name this little nugget of knowledge "The Rambler."
Brace yourselves.
First of all, I'm late on this blog because my computer broke. When I say broke, I mean instead of showing life when I pressed the "be alive" button it showed me a black screen and made an obnoxious beeping sound every five seconds until I pressed the "be alive" button long enough to make it the "DIE!!" button. I've now resolved the problem, but in involved me spending a hot saturday evening using the edge of a screwdriver that was too big for the screws of my computer. When I finally removed the bottom cover of my computer, I realized just how much I was sweating and just how vulnerable all the little parts of exposed metal were to the sweat bombs I was dropping every 10 seconds. Nerve racking. Nonetheless, all is fixed and I can now press the "be alive" button on my computer without getting a disrespectful response.
Before I get to what should be considered the main point of this blog, I would also like to inform you that today, a Thursday, I have no classes.
WHY?!?!?
Because there's a nationwide strike here and the buses don't run today. YAY I DON'T HAVE CLASS!
Oh, there aren't any busses.. I can't go anywhere.
The good news is that I have a computer that functions AND I have the time (forced upon me) to write this blog.
A prominent theme returns in this blog: I have no pictures to go along with it… BUT I do want to mention a teeeeeeny tiny teeny experience I had here in Argentina that has somehow managed to stay with me.
It's not anything major, but if you know me well you'll understand where I'm coming from.
Last tuesday night was the night before a holiday here. It was also the night before the birthday of my host family brother.
I had soccer practice until 11 that night, and after taking the bus I got home around 12:30. Sure enough, as soon as I walked onto my street I heard the music, saw the lights, and instantly knew that a grand party awaited in my house… My host brother is 12, so when I say grand party I mean there were 30 kids, lots of loud music, and enough cheesy poofs to make this guy extremely happy.
Parties are something I would strongly consider part of the culture here in Argentina. For example, my host brother is 12 and his party lasted until 2 in the morning and then the parents came to pick up their kids. 2 figures here are important: 12 years old, 2 in the morning. 2 O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING!! Here, they like to celebrate a lot of things.
While I could elaborate more on the fact that I had forgotten how good cheesy poofs are (and equally good for your health, I might add), there was something that intrigued me even more about this party.
At one point, a little boy and a little girl walked into the kitchen, the spot wear I had bunkered down in between a pile of cheesy poofs and a dozen hamburgers, and asked me if I was related to Lautaro, my host brother.
I now present this list of why this was important to me:
1. I understood them
2. They couldn't tell that I wasn't from Argentina, meaning I can't REALLY be labeled as "gringo."
3. It initiated a conversation that sparked a large amount of interest… Actually, after I told them I was from the United States and that I was an exchange student, the girl responded, "Really? I thought that was only in the movies?"
The girl's interest soon went away after about ten minutes, but the little boy, Conrado, had no intention on ending the conversation.
side note..
The majority of the people reading this blog know that I work at Camp Arrowhead for Boys in North Carolina every summer (except this summer, still not sure how I'm going to handle that). Contrary to popular belief, I don't just work at Camp in order to Kayak all summer long.
Shocking.. I know.
I work at Arrowhead because it gives me an opportunity to impact kids. I don't mean to sound corny, but there's really no other way to say that I like what I do at Camp because it leaves an impression on kids. Kids come to camp expecting a fun time, and at the end of their session they can say that they did exactly what they wanted.. BUT, if we as counselors do our jobs the way we should, they also leave with an influence that they hadn't had before arriving to Camp.
After about 30 minutes of talking with Conrado, one of the kids was thrown into (or voluntarily entered) the pool. At this point it was about 1 o'clock in the morning and cold. Like every other person at the party, I went outside to see what was going on. Conrado followed me.
I realized that there was nothing to see, and Conrado, doing the same, started again to ask me questions and talk with me about things in Argentina and things in the States. Since we were outside, it was the first time that we were around other people.
This is the part that made me think of Camp. Every kid that walked past us, and I mean EVERY kid, was met eagerly by Conrado, who would go on to tell them, "Mira, él es mi amigo de los Estados Unidos." (Look, he's my friend from the United States). It happened at least a dozen times. He said that exact phrase to 12 different kids!
I know it's nothing profound; it's nothing life changing. I know that Conrado didn't go back home after that night and rethink his life and decide to try and save the world, but I also know that it serves as an excellent example of the attention that kids desire while they're in their youth. It's not just in the Southeast; it's not just in the United States; it's universal.
In reality, I'm not really sure why I felt compelled to write about it in my blog. I included some things in this blog that are directly related to Argentina (fixing my computer in a way that could have destroyed it rather than make it better, the ENTIRE COUNTRY coming to a halt for an entire day and thus leaving me without classes, etc.), but it fascinates me the amount of interest Conrado had for somebody who he had just met.
If nothing else, it was confirming. The fact that I come to Argentina (some 5000 miles) and I experience all the differences, all the small changes in lifestyle, all the new things, but the thing that has stuck out to me the most isn't the culture, it's how much I enjoy giving attention to somebody who needs it. I find it extremely encouraging to know that I'm experiencing a new culture and that I feel reaffirmed about the type of work I need to do after I graduate.
I apologize if I spoke to much about Arrowhead; I promise that wasn't the point*
*haaaaaaaa
Hasta luego!
Benjamín
Brace yourselves.
First of all, I'm late on this blog because my computer broke. When I say broke, I mean instead of showing life when I pressed the "be alive" button it showed me a black screen and made an obnoxious beeping sound every five seconds until I pressed the "be alive" button long enough to make it the "DIE!!" button. I've now resolved the problem, but in involved me spending a hot saturday evening using the edge of a screwdriver that was too big for the screws of my computer. When I finally removed the bottom cover of my computer, I realized just how much I was sweating and just how vulnerable all the little parts of exposed metal were to the sweat bombs I was dropping every 10 seconds. Nerve racking. Nonetheless, all is fixed and I can now press the "be alive" button on my computer without getting a disrespectful response.
Before I get to what should be considered the main point of this blog, I would also like to inform you that today, a Thursday, I have no classes.
WHY?!?!?
Because there's a nationwide strike here and the buses don't run today. YAY I DON'T HAVE CLASS!
Oh, there aren't any busses.. I can't go anywhere.
The good news is that I have a computer that functions AND I have the time (forced upon me) to write this blog.
A prominent theme returns in this blog: I have no pictures to go along with it… BUT I do want to mention a teeeeeeny tiny teeny experience I had here in Argentina that has somehow managed to stay with me.
It's not anything major, but if you know me well you'll understand where I'm coming from.
Last tuesday night was the night before a holiday here. It was also the night before the birthday of my host family brother.
I had soccer practice until 11 that night, and after taking the bus I got home around 12:30. Sure enough, as soon as I walked onto my street I heard the music, saw the lights, and instantly knew that a grand party awaited in my house… My host brother is 12, so when I say grand party I mean there were 30 kids, lots of loud music, and enough cheesy poofs to make this guy extremely happy.
Parties are something I would strongly consider part of the culture here in Argentina. For example, my host brother is 12 and his party lasted until 2 in the morning and then the parents came to pick up their kids. 2 figures here are important: 12 years old, 2 in the morning. 2 O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING!! Here, they like to celebrate a lot of things.
While I could elaborate more on the fact that I had forgotten how good cheesy poofs are (and equally good for your health, I might add), there was something that intrigued me even more about this party.
At one point, a little boy and a little girl walked into the kitchen, the spot wear I had bunkered down in between a pile of cheesy poofs and a dozen hamburgers, and asked me if I was related to Lautaro, my host brother.
I now present this list of why this was important to me:
1. I understood them
2. They couldn't tell that I wasn't from Argentina, meaning I can't REALLY be labeled as "gringo."
3. It initiated a conversation that sparked a large amount of interest… Actually, after I told them I was from the United States and that I was an exchange student, the girl responded, "Really? I thought that was only in the movies?"
The girl's interest soon went away after about ten minutes, but the little boy, Conrado, had no intention on ending the conversation.
side note..
The majority of the people reading this blog know that I work at Camp Arrowhead for Boys in North Carolina every summer (except this summer, still not sure how I'm going to handle that). Contrary to popular belief, I don't just work at Camp in order to Kayak all summer long.
Shocking.. I know.
I work at Arrowhead because it gives me an opportunity to impact kids. I don't mean to sound corny, but there's really no other way to say that I like what I do at Camp because it leaves an impression on kids. Kids come to camp expecting a fun time, and at the end of their session they can say that they did exactly what they wanted.. BUT, if we as counselors do our jobs the way we should, they also leave with an influence that they hadn't had before arriving to Camp.
After about 30 minutes of talking with Conrado, one of the kids was thrown into (or voluntarily entered) the pool. At this point it was about 1 o'clock in the morning and cold. Like every other person at the party, I went outside to see what was going on. Conrado followed me.
I realized that there was nothing to see, and Conrado, doing the same, started again to ask me questions and talk with me about things in Argentina and things in the States. Since we were outside, it was the first time that we were around other people.
This is the part that made me think of Camp. Every kid that walked past us, and I mean EVERY kid, was met eagerly by Conrado, who would go on to tell them, "Mira, él es mi amigo de los Estados Unidos." (Look, he's my friend from the United States). It happened at least a dozen times. He said that exact phrase to 12 different kids!
I know it's nothing profound; it's nothing life changing. I know that Conrado didn't go back home after that night and rethink his life and decide to try and save the world, but I also know that it serves as an excellent example of the attention that kids desire while they're in their youth. It's not just in the Southeast; it's not just in the United States; it's universal.
In reality, I'm not really sure why I felt compelled to write about it in my blog. I included some things in this blog that are directly related to Argentina (fixing my computer in a way that could have destroyed it rather than make it better, the ENTIRE COUNTRY coming to a halt for an entire day and thus leaving me without classes, etc.), but it fascinates me the amount of interest Conrado had for somebody who he had just met.
If nothing else, it was confirming. The fact that I come to Argentina (some 5000 miles) and I experience all the differences, all the small changes in lifestyle, all the new things, but the thing that has stuck out to me the most isn't the culture, it's how much I enjoy giving attention to somebody who needs it. I find it extremely encouraging to know that I'm experiencing a new culture and that I feel reaffirmed about the type of work I need to do after I graduate.
I apologize if I spoke to much about Arrowhead; I promise that wasn't the point*
*haaaaaaaa
Hasta luego!
Benjamín