Buenos Aires – Taking it Slow in South America’s City of Light

First of all, thank you, everyone for your comments!  It is great to hear from you and I appreciate you taking the time to read this!

Buenos Aires is frequently dubbed the Paris of South America and I support this reputation.  One of the similarities I appreciate the most is the cafe culture.  I just think it is fun to drink a cup of coffee and sit around talking to your friends, reading the paper, or watching people go by without much concern for what time it is or what you have to be doing next.  As I currently have the time to do so, I am availing myself of this opportunity frequently.  While my European classmates disagree (and explain to me that it is because I am America and therefore accustomed to terrible coffee), I think the coffee here is good.  If you order “cafe” you get espresso rather than brewed coffee, always accompanied by a tiny glass of cold water (not sure why).

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Another likeness to Paris is the look of the city–narrow roads, sometimes of brick or cobblestone, flanked by 6-story buildings.  Buenos Aires is an attractively-constructed city, especially if you keep your eyes above the ground level (graffiti, crumbling sidewalks, dudes weirdly hanging out in doorways).  There are many awesome buildings, such as the Palacio de Justicia, Teatro Colon, and the bookstore El Ateneo (pictured, respectively, below).

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The final key similarity to Paris in my opinion is the distinct and notable cuisine.  While I expected that dining in Argentina was all about the steak and red wine, my impression so far is that the real standouts are the empanadas, ice cream, and baked desserts.  In fact, there are so many bakeries offering myriad cakes and torts by the slice and by the bite-sized piece that I have to wonder–who is eating all of this stuff?

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I’ll tell you who is eating that Chocolate and Dulce de Leche ice cream cone–this guy.  I told the shop employees the ice cream here is so good I’ll never enjoy it again in the U.S.

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My classes at Ibero Spanish School began on Monday.  I was placed into an intermediate level class with four other students: Martina (~36, Czech Republic), Tobias (~21, Germany), Catarina (~50, France), and Sarah (~22, Australia).  Our professor is Leandro (~28, Argentina).  I am getting some needed review of grammatical rules and brushing up on vocabulary.  I was worried that I would have regressed significantly since the pinnacle of my Spanish ability which was at the end of my 12-week study in Costa Rica in 2003.  However, it is coming back quickly and I feel very confident.  Even in public interactions where people don’t know I am not a native speaker, I understand about 90% of what they are saying (I just guess at the rest).  I had an interesting conversation with my classmates at Cafe Tortoni about the idea that one might have a slightly different personality when speaking a different language, and that different languages lend themselves to different patterns of thought and different interpretations of the world.  I think this is probably true and hope it is because I might be learning in more ways than expected just by studying Spanish.

The students at my school are an interesting group.  The school organized a dinner at a parrilla (steak restaurant) Thursday night and about 20 students attended.

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We stayed for a long time exchanging travel stories and plans and Buenos Aires tips.   There are people from all over the world, many like me on fairly long trips, and some who hope to stay for a year or indefinitely in Buenos Aires.  It is fun to examine the differences between our countries’ cultures and societies.  Everyone understands the U.S. better than I understand their country (or even their continent).  I guess I’ll do some catching up on that front this year.

I am starting to know my way around the city a little.  That is, I don’t have to unfold my embarrassing map at every street corner and subway stop.  There is a simple joy in getting to know a place–just making my way from home to school without taking a wrong turn feels like an accomplishment.  Similarly, there is a joy in understanding what someone is saying in a foreign language.  The jokes are funnier.  I guess it’s the same reason why kids love to play easy games and read the same books over and over.  Comprehension just feels satisfying.

On my way home last night I noticed this flyer and thought, “Yes, this was hung here for me.”

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While Buenos Aires is the last place I expected to attend my first practice of Zen meditation (in Spanish, no less), I figured–why not?  So I made my way over for this morning’s session and despite feeling immediately conspicuous in my shorts and bright blue t-shirt (as opposed to everyone else’s black dojo robes) I greeted one of the monks and asked to join their morning practice.  He gave me a brief instruction on the postures and then everyone proceeded to their seats (atop small cushions placed on cushioned mats).  I got into the lotus posture which was very comfortable for the first 11 seconds.  After that, the thoughts that appeared like clouds and then floated away were mostly, “my legs are both asleep” and “my back is freaking killing me”.  After modifying my position a few times, I was able to make it through the 45-minute silent meditation session.  Following that was a series of physical practices (walking slowly around the dojo, prostration, bowing) and then a series of chants in Japanese and in Spanish resting (as it were) in a kneeling position.  I think I imitated the other students well enough not to offend anyone too much.  After the formal service, everyone helped clear the dojo and carry items upstairs.  There, we all sat around a table and very ceremoniously and silently drank a cup of tea.  The tea finished, the lead monk asked if there were anyone attending for the first time.  There were two others besides me who were.  We each introduced ourselves and told of our experience with Zen meditation and how we came to attend this morning.  The monk asked me how I had found the postures we used.  Difficult, I replied.  He asked if I had ever tried them before.  Yes, I said, but never for an hour.  At this he and everyone else laughed.  The locals talked about how to reconcile the Argentine affinity for eating meat with the vegetarian tenets of Buddhism.  Interesting stuff, and again I felt happy just to understand what was going on.