A Girl in the World

Buenos Aires

Nunca Hicimos Amistades

May 10, 2010

Never did we make friendships

This is the welcome banner that would greet you as the opposing team when you enter La Bombonera (Boca Junior’s home stadium). Charming, arrogant, shameless. So sweetly Argentinian.

Last night we attended the last Boca Juniors home game until August. We didn’t stay in the sheltered tourist area, nor did we get numbered seats.  We came in through the piss dripping back stairwells of the standing-only section to sing and dance with a mass of people so passionate about their football, I couldn’t help but feel jealous.

 

 

We sat in these stands just a few feet up from where this video was taken. Total chaos.
Where does all of this feeling come from? How can grown men shout so hard, sing so beautifully, dance and jump and scream like I’ve never seen in North America or Europe?

 

Football is a mysterious thing.  Its lure and grandeur escaped us in Canada where all matter of sport and debauchery is centered around hockey.  I’d always wanted to attend a football match in South America but had heard how difficult it is to find good, local tickets.  We don’t do clean, tourist packages where you sit in a protected little box to watch the match as if it were on TV.  We wanted to be thick in the chaos, in the noise, with the musk of emotion around us.  So, when a friend mentioned a cheap, dodgy hostel offering available, we jumped on it.  It’s the kind of package probably monitored by la doce but organized by local folk (It’s a known fact that all ‘foreigner’ tickets are handled and sold by the Boca hooligans, referred to as la doce).  The ‘company’ who organized everything for us doesn’t have a website for ‘safety reasons’.  Ha.

We gathered at a pick-up point until a rickety old school bus blasting reggaeton music came barreling around the corner to take us to a parilla and beer jaunt in a conventillo near La Bombonera.  It’s like tailgating, Argentinian style.  Then we were walked into the stadium in large groups, were searched more thoroughly than at an airport security line and passed through side streets and back allies that looked like war zones.   Smoke, barricades and black-helmeted riot policemen at every corner.  Fun!

As game time approached, the beat of drums echoed in the nearby streets.  They have a band?!  I asked.  Yes, a marching band!, he answered sarcastically.

It was a band. Sort of. Actually, it was more like a mob 30,000 strong, jumping, chanting and screaming in tandem.  It was the most musically talented mob I’d ever seen and for a few short minutes at a time, when I could copy the words, I jumped, chanted and screamed with them.  I was a gringo local.  A gringo, but still local for a short time.

To feel the heartbeat of a rabid stadium, to hear it, to smell it – there is nothing more powerful.  Looking across the field at the ant-like figures of colour and sound, I felt moved.  It was no longer about the players down on that grass.  It was about the people.  A show for the people, by the people.  Families in their best blues and yellows gathering on a warm Sunday evening to cheer on a losing team.  Babies on their daddy’s shoulders.  Grandchildren, dads and granddads, three generations of men chanting, swearing and jumping all around us.  It was madness and beauty.

I wish I understood more what it all meant.  I was there, a part of the action, but still an outsider.  Football as foreign as the language. Somehow I understood early on that it isn’t just about scoring goals.  Even as we lost, the chanting and drums continued.  60,000 fans chanted and stood for 90 minutes. NINTEY MINUTES (I was completely knackered by half time)!  If that’s not loyalty, I don’t know what is.

And wow, I learned a whole slew of new Castellano!

Hijo de puta! Hijo de puta!

Dale, gordo! Puta! Puta madre!

and a little more sweetly, translated …

Boca my best friend
this tournament we are going to be with you
we support you with our heart
This tournament we are going to be champions
I don’t care that they say
what the others say
I follow you everywhere
I love you more and more

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How to be hoochie and get fit too

May 4, 2010

Gawd I love Latin America.  They just know how to prioritize all the important things in life.  Forget efficient governments, reliable laws and customer service.  There is passion, great food, tango, gratuitous shows of affection in public, and hoochierobics.

Hoochierobics!

After last night’s not-so-great Reggaeton classes, I figured Areo Interval would be more, you know, technical.  I’d imagined step aerobics with weights and tae-bo and whatever else areo intervals are all about.  Thankfully, I was wrong.

It’s like aerobics but sluttier.  You mambo, you salsa, you grind your ass right down to the floor.  Imagine this and this and this blasting so loud you can’t hear yourself think.  There are mirrors and hips and jiggling and sweat.  It’s aerobics on crack.

What a great way to spend an hour on a random Tuesday night.  Inappropriate dancing, taught by an instructor who inappropriately flirts with the all-female attendees, grinding, sweating, singing and cha-cha-cha-ing all in the name of good health.  Amen to Argentinian aerobics classes.

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Reggaeton

May 4, 2010

I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a gym membership lately and last night, I finally decided YES.  I’m not a gym person.  I can’t do treadmills and weights and elliptical machines all by myself.  The last time I did well at a gym was when I had a trainer.

All of this working from home and taking long walks by the park has been great but my energy levels have been low low low lately. So, I’ve decided to gym it.

Let me just say that Reggaeton dance classes are great.  But you know what I realized?  Reggaeton is actually only *really* great when you’re drunk in some bar in the middle of Lisbon with 4 of your closest girl friends.  Reggaeton at 9 PM on a Monday night while completely sober is SO NOT the same experience. At all.

I think I’ll stick to plain ol’ vanilla aerobics on weeknights.

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Lessons in customer service

May 3, 2010

Argentina is known for its beautiful people and delicious steaks.  Thailand is known for it’s pristine beaches and top-notch customer service.  Thailand and steaks don’t fit.  And neither do Argentina and top-notch customer service.  That’s because there is none.

Ok, I’m joking.  Of course there’s customer service in Argentina.  Restauranteurs, shop owners, security guards, teachers and cabbies – we’ve met some of the sweetest.  But in general, it’s hard to find quality, feel-good, they’ve-gone-above-and-beyond customer service here.

Whether it’s the help centre for a mobile, internet or telephone company, people just don’t seem to care.  You call, someone answers and if the question is standard, you get a standard, canned-response reply.  But if the question you have requires an answer that isn’t in the books, don’t expect to problem-solve through it together.  Most of the time, the person on the other side of the line will just hang up.

Yes.  Hang up.  It is crazy.

We’ve met various entrepreneurs from the expat community here and time and time again, they say that the biggest opportunities locally lie in improving the customer experience.  It’s just bad.

You call a manufacturer about possibly sourcing goods from his shop and you don’t hear back for weeks (if at all).  It boggles my mind that companies don’t value the fact that I’m an interested, willing customer, ready to give my money for a good or service they provide.  Why are they not tripping over themselves to serve me and serve me well?  The spoilt North American consumer in me just can’t understand it.  It’s backward economics.

But a closer look reveals something different.  It’s economics, yes, but not necessarily backwards.

Because salaries here are so low (minimum wage is 1800 pesos a month, which translates to about $450 USD) and opportunities for advancement are virtually non-existent, it’s hard to command above-and-beyond performance in low to mid-wage jobs.  We’ve heard of cases where telecentre workers are told that they should average 90 seconds per call.  There are no customer satisfaction metrics, no recorded calls, no CRM systems tracking past queries.  Just you and the stopwatch.

But of course, what else would you expect from a place where inflation runs rampant, where economic stability changes with the seasons, where cost cutting and cash are king.

Manufacturers don’t hold inventory, which means they aren’t tripping over themselves to sell it.  They’ll make it on demand, but only if fully paid.  This means it’s more profitable to maintain current relationships than go after leads that may yield zero or low volume business.

There is no concept of credit here. Inflation fluctuates so frequently that some restaurants don’t print prices on their menus – you have to ask.

Here, the economic stability that we take for granted in places like North America and Europe does not exist.  This is why come pay day, people line up at Cambio shops to change pesos to dollars.  Better to keep savings in cold, hard Benjamins than to risk investing pesos in banks.

And so, in a place where financial stability for the average person is dependent more on the political and economic policies in place at any given time than on personal effort, priorities shift.  Instead of focusing on career advancement, promotions and innovation in the workplace, people focus on more tangible, controllable benefits: family, friends and leisure time.  People don’t live to work.  They live to live.

They live to live.  And it is obvious.  On Sundays, businesses are closed, families crowd the parks, coffee shops are packed, subways and buses are empty.  Meals are 3-hour long marathons of storytelling, laughter and shared time.  Friends see each other weekly, not monthly.  People get to know their neighbours.

I won’t take back my opinion that customer service here is bad.  It can definitely be improved.  But there is so much more to it than just that.  There are larger forces at work here – political, economic, historical – that help explain the workings of a place.

For me, it’s all been a long lesson on perspective.  Give your best, in everything, regardless of what reward systems are in place.  Don’t take for granted functioning, (mostly) efficient governments. Treasure the softer, lovelier, immeasurable goodness of family, friends and leisure time in your life.

Live to live.

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A "Crisis of Coins"

April 29, 2010

This place is the Wild Wild West.  Someone blatantly jumps in front of you in the grocery store queue.  A fist fight on the sidewalk.  Traffic jams at every major and non-major intersection between here and Texas.  Dishonest cabbies, apathetic customer service reps, irresponsible dog owners who refuse to pick up after their pets.  This is Buenos Aires.  It is beauty, love and madness.

Whenever we get together with Porteños, conversations inevitably wander towards politics, the state of the economy and the backwards workings of a once mighty place.  Similar to other young democracies in Asia and other parts of the developing world, Argentina finds itself in the throes of well-meaning leaders who just can’t help being a little more selfish than the next guy.  And being with an Argentinian means that I’m witness to the average Argie’s gripes and frustrations every single day.  Mostly, people find a way to laugh it off.  No sense in worrying about something that you can’t change (ha, the irony of democracy).

Inefficient government and government policies, combined with a resourceful pool of determined citizens yield a system and way of life just a little different from the western world.  Cash-only rental, real estate sales and restaurant transactions.   Bribery in business.  Dishonest and corrupt law enforcement officials.  A virtually zero credit economic system (homes, cars, and rents are all paid in cold hard USD cash).  And, fake money.

Now, friends who’ve visited Argentina in the past have groaned about being duped with fake money by taxi drivers.  Three months of living on and off in the country last year and not once did I come across fake bills.  But last week, as we hurried out of a cab to get to dinner, the cabbie slipped us a 50 peso fake and it was only after a few days that we’d realized we were scammed.  And though 50 pesos only translates to about 12 USD, I don’t like the feeling of being taken advantage of.  I was royally annoyed.

But you know what’s amazing?  Whereas I was annoyed about the situation, the Boy, as always, was cool, calm and collected.  He laughed it off and said that we’d just put the fake back into the system.  Simple.

Right. Of course.  Just put it right back into the system.  Why didn’t I think of that?

And the more time I spend here, the more amazed I am to see how nonchalantly the locals have found a way to cope with such backwardness.  The legal and illegal things have all found a way to weave themselves into the normal course of daily life here.

Last night during dinner, we talked about the “crisis of coins”.  The subway and bus systems here are relatively efficient ways of getting around, albeit not very efficiently managed.  Subway passes only work for subways and most buses only take cash (1 peso, to be exact).  This means that in a city of 9 million people, the majority of the population is ducking underground or hopping on a colectivo every single day, at least twice a day.  Imagine the demand for coins.  One peso coins, to be exact.  And imagine the opportunities if you’re the owner of a corner-street kiosk, selling small change items like candy, cigarettes and chewing gum.  There are crowds of people with two peso, five peso and 10 peso bills aching for change.  Perhaps that little pack of gum over there, instead of pricing it at 1 peso flat, you can price it at 1.25 or 1.50.  Wouldn’t you much rather change a 5 peso bill and earn a few cents more on the transaction?

Supposedly, the demand for coins once created a black market system where people would ask to change a 10 peso bill and be forced to accept 9 pesos in return, the kiosk owner pocketing 1 peso in ‘commission’ for the service.  Clever, no? =)

Coming from clean, boring Canada, the Wild Wild West ways of doing things here fascinate me.  The economic systems that evolve in places where governments are still struggling to rightfully fulfill their duties to the people are incredibly interesting.  It feels like every day yields a new surprise, a different perspective in ways of doing things.

This is what deep travel is all about: the process of peeking around the folds and understanding the quiet ways people cope with their laws and limitations, with all things good and bad about daily life in a big city.  This is a whole new education.

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Sunday Eve in Buenos Aires

April 25, 2010

It’s a crisp, breezy evening in this here BA. A perfectly clear night for spying on our neighbours.

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One day, the clouds just opened up…

April 24, 2010

… and poured full sentences of Castellano out of my mouth!  Full sentences!  Out of MY mouth! Like mute babies who all of a sudden start talking out of the blue, I started pulling words out of the air to build sensical phrases on the spot. Like a storm, it all just came raining down.

ArgentinaQ22010-20

I don’t want to beat this language learning thing like a dead horse, but wow the little victories count for a lot. Last night, the boy’s mom was over for dinner and in one fell swoop I said, “Estoy cansada. Normalmente, no tengo clases los viernes, pero por la huelga de maestras en marzo, tenemos una clase hoy.”

I stopped and looked at the boy, our jaws hanging down to the floor in shock.  Did all of that just come out of my mouth, in real time?! I looked around to see if someone else could have said that out loud because that couldn’t have possibly been me, could it?!

We high-fived across the table like it was new year’s eve 1999. You cannot even imagine the elation.

We celebrated with milanesa de pollo delivery and a kilo bucket of ice cream. Reward systems are important. =)

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Riki, Shakira and the women of Sex and the City

April 21, 2010

After writing about my demoralizing weekend of not being able to communicate with the boy’s family, I’ve received lots of great advice on how I can speed up my uptake of Castellano.  Everything from more dinners out (great!), more local TV watching and tandem language partnering!

I’ve decided that I’m going to look for the Spanish subtitled versions of Sex and the City (at least the subject matter will keep me interested and learning Spanish words for some of the things that come out of Samantha’s mouth will, at the very least, be memorable) and I’m going to purchase a box of flashcards so I can easily collect verbs.  Flashcards worked wonders in university when I was learning formulas, definitions and chemical elements.  My geeklette flashcards were so good, in fact, that people would nearly mug me at the library trying to steal them from me! Yes. Dorkness.

But what I’m most excited about trying is an idea my friend AV sent:  find an interesting Spanish music artist, purchase the CD and learn all of the songs.  Brilliant, right?  I used to be in choir.  I’m all about the singing.

Well, because I’m such a considerate and giving person, I asked the boy last night who his favourite Spanish artist is.  I figured I’d be merciful.  If he’s going to be dealing with my endless singing for the next few weeks maybe he should get a say in my choice of karaoke practice.  

And you know what he answered?

Riki Martin.  

Yes.  That’s Right.  

And I was like, “What?!  You want to hear me singing UNO, DOZ, TRES, LIVIN’ LA VIDA LOCA! all day long?!  Are you nuts?”

And then we thought of Shakira.  She’s cool, she’s hot, she’s a she wolf.  But I can’t be overly ambitious here.  The woman yodels.  And she does crazy things with her hips that I can’t do.  I think she’ll just make me feel more insecure ;)

So, we’re at a standstill.  Riki Martin and Shakira.  That’s the best we could come up with.  Pathetic, right?  

We need help.  Any suggestions?  Carlos Bauté?  Eros Ramazzotti? Sakis? OMG Sakis!  HE IS SO HOT!  Maria and I agreed we’d have his babies together!  But wait, he’s Greek.  I digress.

Advice, anyone?  ;)

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Crashing back down to earth

April 19, 2010

We spent the weekend in Mar del Plata to visit the boy’s family.  We had home-cooked food, spent time by the sea and generally relaxed for three days.  But my oh my, what three days of pure frustration they were for me.

After 8 classes of Español para Extranjeros, I was feeling fantastic leaving Buenos Aires armed with what I thought was a battalion of new verbs and tenses with which to communicate.  I was WRONG.  Speaking in class and understanding the teacher is VERY different from speaking in real life and understanding people in real life.  Real life doesn’t speak as slowly or as clearly as my professors do.  Verbs don’t conjugate themselves as quickly or as easily in my head during real life.  And nobody is writing me simple tense letters in real life.  Real life español has been a real shock.  I am sad. =(

I don’t know who I was kidding when I thought I could jump into a school and learn Castellano via osmosis.  If I just sleep on the verb book, won’t it all just soak into my brain at night?!  And doesn’t eating Argentinian food – cooking it even! –  doesn’t that count for some form of mercy from the language gods?!  

Oh the pure frustration of hearing bits and pieces of a conversation and not being able to conjugate quickly enough to contribute!  So incredibly annoying!  I know I should look at it as more exciting, and new and fun, but really, I’m tired of not being able to contribute a normal sentence in a very normal conversation!!!

I need a new strategy and I need it fast.  Any advice on how I can learn more quickly?  As in, lightning fast quickly?!  

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The beauty of language learning

April 11, 2010

Learning a new language is like stumbling through darkness to a destination not yet charted.  I know I’m going to get there at some point but where and how I’ll know, I have no idea.  Learning Spanish has been like a shot in the dark.  There’s a goal but I’m not quite sure exactly when I’ll know I’ve made it.

I’ve never been very good at languages.  I supposedly graduated from the French immersion program in high school but it was a big fat joke.  I don’t even know how I managed to write the book reports required of us.  What I do remember is reading the English version of the French novel and going from there.  Lazy, I know.

In London, I hired a private tutor.  He was from Spain, took his job as a tutor very seriously and within a few weeks fired me because I wasn’t taking my job as a student seriously enough.  That was the end of Spanish learning in London.

In November, while spending six weeks here in Buenos Aires, I was taught by another private tutor.  She was great and we became friends.  We became such good friends, in fact, that we talked more about our lives, our men and our hopes and dreams than verbs, conjugations and all things academic.

Today, I’m enrolled at the University of Buenos Aires.  And it’s amazing.  Though the pace of class isn’t that of a normal university course (I’m taking Spanish for Foreigners, which ensures that our class is a mixed bag of immigrants, party animals and people who are just hanging out not knowing what to do between lunch and dinner), we have proper homework and verbal exercises and (hopefully) quizzes.  The teacher does not speak a word of English and at first I thought this would be counterproductive.  I was wrong.  It’s amazing how much harder your mind will work when it feels like it’s drowning in misunderstanding.

It feels so good to learn something new again.  I’ve been on vacation for almost a year now.  My mind has relaxed and expanded, my perspective has grown and changed.  However, I’m starting to feel the itch of wanting to take on the next big challenge, the next new thing.  Human beings aren’t meant to be idle.  I think we all have an innate desire to grow, to change, to stretch ourselves.

I wish I’d done more of these learning courses while I was working.  Doing something fresh and different from the everyday grind is good for the mind.  What would I have taken on?  Let’s see…

… drawing classes

… a pastry course

… French for beginners

… jazz dance

… a sales course

… blacksmithing

… creative writing

What are you going to learn next?

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