rhoenBA's blog

Farewell my fellow Art of Travel Gallatin Students. Thank you for a wonderful semester and for sharing your ideas from around the world. I’d like to apologize for uploading the last five blog posts all at once just now at the end of the class. I fell behind and there always seemed to be new distractions. Hopefully I don’t incriminate myself by saying this, but one of the things I’ve learned here in Argentina is to prioritize. The people here don’t spend 3/4 of their time thinking about the future like so many Americans seem to. Porteños live in the present and they act for now. Maybe the recent volatile political and economic history has had a lasting impact, but there is definitely a sense that the future is uncertain so why bother worrying about it. For me this has translated into a life style more focused on the moment. What am I doing right now and what choices and actions should I do to make this moment better. 

Overall this has led a very new relaxed version of me. I don’t worry so much about things out of my control, and I don’t constantly think about what will I be doing this summer, next fall, next year, after I graduate, 10 years from now etc... I hope I can take this point of view back home with me and I certainly hope I can remember this relaxed feeling in New York where so much of my time is spent being stressed about something.

One thing I hope I can remember is my grasp of the English language. One of my friends who likes to read my blog posts pointed out to me that my writing skills seem to have diminished or at least taken on the form of an educated ESL speaker. On the one hand I’m very proud that this is noticeable, it means I’ve probably been spending an adequate amount of time speaking Spanish. On the other hand I’ll need my writing skills back when I’m taking Gallatin courses which in my opinion are harder than any other courses at NYU particularly in comparison to courses at NYU-BA. 

Finally I invite you all to come introduce yourselves in person to me next semester! I spend a lot of time in the Gallatin student lounge and I also, publicly announced today, will be your Gallatin Student Council senator. You can come to me with any complaints or suggestions or compliments about Gallatin and I will listen intently and do my best to help! I look forward to an excellent semester with all you next fall, and again, I look forward to meeting you.

Saludos,

Rhoen

A word on the photos: i’ve noticed that some people have avoided posting pictures of themselves while i’ve posted many featuring myself. I swear i’m not a narcissist! I just think including pictures of me gives my blog a more personal feel and allows you and other readers to connect more. Just a theory. This photo is me at Iguazu falls. The NYU program took a trip there recently.

Dear prospective study abroad student,

If you are an NYU student please be advised, there are many study abroad options available to you that are NOT the NYU study abroad campuses. You should seriously consider enrolling in a program that is not through NYU. I foolishly jumped into NYU study abroad without researching other programs and its possible I wasted tens of thousands of tuition dollars. The academic experience at NYU-BA is not comparable to that of Washing Square. The credits are not equal, and yet cost the same. Also, speaking from my experience of one semester, this program does not attract students interested in learning Spanish. The vast majority of the students in the program are content to speak English at all hours of the day and this is prejudicial to the learning of Spanish, which was my number one goal for choosing to study abroad. 

As a prospective study abroad student you will likely hear the advice “try to meet locals when you’re there” and I cannot stress enough, MEET LOCALS WHEN YOU ARE HERE. My first two months here at NYU-BA look like a waste of time compared to the experience I’ve had in my second two months after making friends outside of the program. If you have to hang out with english speakers, use this incredible opportunity to meet other travelers. Sign up for coach surfing, join a frisbee team like I did, do something that isn’t with unmotivated, boring American college students. At the very least finding english speakers in the city will ensure that you find found english speakers who were also interested in seeking out other adventurous english speakers. 

On women: they’re different. Leave all assumptions under your pillow back in the states. Dating is different, kissing is different, sex is different. You will be surprised, weirded out, uncomfortable, happily pleased, and ecstatically excited: all the familiar emotions associated with women. But these emotions will be presented in completely unexpected manners and occur at unexpected times. And if you’ll permit me to give a piece of frank advice; get off your lazy feet and learn how to dance. I guarantee your American friends will be impressed, but more to the point, have fun trying to find Porteños, or anyone from Latin America, that doesn’t want to go out to dance. 

Pardon my creeper face in the photo... Try to appreciate the graffiti and Eryn’s delite and ignore my awkwardness.

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Patience is a virtue. If I had to sum up what I’ve learned here in Buenos Aires it is this: patience is a virtue. I’ve been told that my whole life, and I’ve thought I understood what it meant, but there’s something about being expected, no, required, to show up late to organized events that has taught me to slow down and take each moment as it comes. 

 

Of course as much as I’ve learned about how to be patient, but I’ve also learned about my own impatience. Just today I got upset that two friends were not responding to my text asking what cafe we were going to go to. Earlier in the day we’d made plans to go out after class, and finally over two hours after class I got a response. But of course I was being ridiculous. Everyone was running slowly and the missing hours when I was waiting for a response were passing at a different pace for my friends. 

 

When I was a kid my family used to drive to Canada to visit my aunts and uncles several times a year. I used to imagine that if I was sleeping or playing video games the loooooong 8 hour drive would pass so much more quickly. Or, when my family would drive down to visit us in Vermont I would happily play all day and occasionally remember, oh yeah, Nina and Ky are still in the car. That sucks for them...Of course, my education in time relativity had begun. 

 

And this education has continued in an unexpected way here in Buenos Aires. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m not in New York. Its funny to say, and easy to brush off saying, oh, haha, Rhoen finally realized that New York is permanently on speed. But for me the change of pace in my living environment is more than anecdotal in the sense of an afternoon cafe or arriving late to a party. On a good day I find myself living in the moment. I breath more slowly and deeply, I’m present. I listen and speak with greater clarity. Its hard to explain, but this city is different. Its not necessarily better (see the smells post...) but I definitely am thankful for this lesson that I’ve learned. Really learned. Patience is a virtue.

 

The picture is a typical line in front of a bank at 9:00 in the morning. Long lines are common.

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"Traveling is a brutality," writes Cesare Pavese. "It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. "

 

I agree with Pavese’s statement that traveling is a brutality, but trusting strangers was never the hard part for me. Trusting strangers was the solution to the brutality of being in a situation without the comfort of home (maybe that’s what Pavese meant, I’m not sure...). In fact once I decided to look for strangers to trust, I found the process of traveling much easier.

 

The stranger, that isn’t such a stranger any more, for me is Caro, a porteña I’ve been spending a lot time with lately. She doesn’t make me feel at home, not even close. But there’s something relaxing about being liked that makes me feel comfortable in this foreign city. There’s nothing like someone telling you “estas lindo” all the time (you’re cute/handsome/pretty. lindo has many translations) or struggling to organize plans over the telephone and a language barrier. 

 

Caro is older than me by a few more than a few years, has lived a very different life than me, holds different world views than me, has different academic interests and work aspirations, and has different life dreams than me. As far as strangers go she fits my assumptions for what a stranger should be. Although theses differences make me very aware I’m living in a different world, there is something small that perhaps does make me feel at home. I’ve learned how to trust this new friend and she has learned how to trust me, and this mutual feeling with someone physically close to me is something I lacked for my first months here. Having close friends is what defines home, and Caro has started to become a close friend, here, in Buenos Aires.

 

As an end note I want to add that I think finding people to trust amongst strangers and people who are very different from me is a very different process in this very different city and culture than back home. While finding close friends is never easy, I’ve learned that its different in different places. The differences between Caro and myself might be prohibitive of a functional friendship back home, but here they aren’t. Maybe its because I allow myself to be more understanding of these differences because I expect them, or maybe there are similarities between us that I haven’t noticed yet. One thing I can truthfully say however is that I am happy to have found someone to make this foreign place more comfortable. 

 

I’m the goofy American in need of a hair cut in the photo...

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For all my life I’ve felt like smell is an under appreciated sense. Sight gets privileged because its how enjoy beautiful scenery or consume media. Touch gets privileged for the obvious sexual reasons. Although I’ve met a few people who were not turned on heavily by food, I think most people, my self included, throughly enjoy eating and the wonderful sensations taste can bring. Hearing allows us to experience music and to communicate verbally. Smell (ignoring that it is biologically related to taste) I find tends to be forgotten. However, smell provides a richness and an understanding of a moment unique from the rest of the senses. I’ve even heard (emphasis on heard. i’m not where so maybe its BS) that smell has the power to trigger memories that otherwise would have lain forgotten. 

 

In my time here in Buenos Aires there are many smells I might consider writing about. Perhaps it’s the beautiful and mysterious scent of the porteña I’ve been seeing lately, or maybe the unique odors of the varieties of yerba mate’s i’ve tried. But no, the smell that defines this city for me, for better or worse (mostly for worse) is.....DOG SHIT.

 

Buenos Aires is the dirtiest city I’ve ever been to. The streets are covered in trash, which only encourages more trash to be added from passers by and tere are few cleaners employed by the city. But its not the trash that bothers me. Its the unrelenting smell of shit. Brown, steaming, stepped in, smeared, piled, plopped, poop. There are a fair amount of stray dogs in the city, but I think the majority of the crusty crap covering the sidewalks is from negligent owners. People don’t care to keep their city clean. I’m not sure however if its because the city already seems so dirty that its a whats-the-point-no-one-else-does-so-why-should-I. Or if this is just a dirty place. Nobody cares or even wants a clean city. 

 

Note on the picture: I haven’t actually taken any pictures of dogs or dog shit here because I don’t like dogs...or dog shit. But I think this picture does a good job replicating an eye sore equivalent to the nose sore I experience on a daily basis. 

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For this blog I read the book The Invention of Argentina by Nicolas Shumway which traces the creation of Argentina starting with the colonization of Latin America by Spain. Parts of the history bear many resemblances to the problems America experienced with the English motherland. The importation of goods and the taxes imposed by Spain were very frustrating for the people of Argentina. Lima in Peru was made the Spanish trade center in all of Latin America and goods had to travel from Spain, to Lima, and then finally to Buenos Aires before they could be traded in Argentina. The extra travel obviously added unnecessary expense and also allowed for extra taxing. Like in America where working with the French and smuggling through Canada became big business, the English helped the Argentine people smuggle past the Spanish import taxes. The English obviously having a large stake in damaging the Spanish Empire in what ever way possible. But while the international politics of resisting colonialism seem familiar, aspects of Argentina’s history helped create a national political structure very different from what developed in the U.S.

 

Politics in Argentina developed in such a way to rely on local politics for most of the functions of the government. When Spain tried to strengthen its hold on Argentina it ran into a huge problem: it couldn’t force its grasp of power. Having control over a central national politics meant little when villages and provinces throughout the country maintained a high level of independence. 

 

What’s amazing for me is to see the effects of these historical anecdotes today. Shumway points out that the strong local politics, while powerful in many ways, allowed Argentina to develop without a strong sense of nationalism. While perhaps good for fighting fascism, I have noticed that Argentina often seems to be a divided country. Their national politics are even more divided than in the U.S. with supporters and dissenters of Kirchner, the current president, holding such strong opinions that we NYU students have learned to not discuss politics with locals. Its just not safe! Also, I’ve found that many youth are interested in leaving Argentina. My friend Barbara from here wants to move to England. She says her future will be better away from Argentina. 

 

I think its impossible to make a generalization as large as “this country is not patriotic” and I don’t want to come across as saying that about Argentina. But what is remarkable is the struggle that Argentina went through in its history with Spain and the direct effect that has had on its development.

 

The photo is mine, it was taken in El Tigre, a village to the north of Buenos Aires.

El Parque de Las Heras is such a great good place. There’s plenty of trees to offer shade but not too many; you’ll certainly be sitting a circle with your friends which offers parts in the sun if you prefer the heat. Since you’re in Argentina, any good place is made a little bit greater by the drinking of mate; the south american tea that make every social afternoon inherently better. There are plenty of dogs if you’re into that (I am notoriously not an animal person...) to keep you entertained as you lay back and relax. You may have to look for a nice patch of grass as there are some dry spots, but you wont have to look long. 

As your lying in the sun wondering if there’s any reason to return to New York City a cute girl will approach you. You’ll immediately know that she’s trying to sell you something by the armful of sellable items but she seems nice (cute) so you listen to what she has to say. It turns out she’s promoting a magazine written by inner city youth in a poor neighborhood of Buenos Aires. She lets you flip through the magazine and it looks interesting so you buy it. It only costs $10 pesos which is equivalent to a subway ride in New York, and you get exposed to a new area of culture you hadn’t explored. 

It turns out the magazine is kind of crappy and there’s a bunch of words you don’t know since its in Spanish. You thought you’d get some good practice, but with out a dictionary you’re kind of stuck guessing. You’re getting a little restless so you get up and start walking, but Parque de Las Heras is such a great good place you can’t be bored for long. Theres a group of kids playing fútbol near by that you could join if you so desired. You see a man selling drinks over in the distance, but only one, not a hoard. There is a busy street (las Heras) but its far enough away that the noise pollution isn’t so bad, but its proximity also means you’re close to a bus back home when you need it. If you were in the mood you might have gone for a run from your home to the park because its a decent distance for some exercise and big enough to run through for several minutes. 

Its been an afternoon well spent and you decide to go home. As you walk back you think to yourself, I’ve been to better parks, but honestly, not that many. I rank Parque de Las Heras as a good park. But its definitely on the high end of good, what would be a good prefix to good to use...

Art is one of those things that means something different to everyone. I understand its important to a lot of people, otherwise why would public museums exist, but to me, most art is just plain boring. I know, I’m impatient, but I see no point in spending more than 1 minute in a room plastered with portraits of rich people and landscapes (see above photo). In general I might say I like modern art, but that’s a tricky statement because I’m not interested in staring a bent coat hanger that a dog could make (see above). I went with a class to a museum dedicated to religious art during the colonial era in Argentina, and I could not have been more bored. Painting after painting of exactly the same images, Jesus, Mary, and a bunch of crosses. 

All this being said, I don’t hate all art. In fact, I was fascinated by one section of the modern art in the Museo Nacional de Belles Artes (I thought I wrote down the name of the artist that I particularly liked but alas I cannot find it. His art reminded me of Pollock plus Picaso, if that makes any sense...). The bright colors mixing together in unusual ways, the occasional piece of plastic or other material giving a three dimensional aspect to the painting managed to keep my interest for a few seconds longer. 

One piece that sticks out in my mind was this statue of a twisted demon of a human. Perhaps it was only humanoid, or maybe it was a person so tortured and beaten that its body had taken on a new shape. The mouth was gaping open and turned into a pool of jelly like liquid. It was probably just opaque plastic, but it looked like goo. I wish I was allowed to take photos and show you, its the only piece I really remember because it was so haunting.

Over all however the art I’ve seen in Buenos Aires isn’t all that different from the art I’ve seen in New York City. Theres the same mixture of “classic” art from ages past, 20th century art representing “movements” in the art community or showing the feeling of the people in a certain time period. And of course there is contemporary art that is either kitsch and entertaining, or weird and lame. 

Moral of the story is that if you’re really in to art, don’t come to Buenos Aires. And second, don’t trust my opinion of art. 

Its easy to know if you’re bearing witness to staged authenticity in Buenos Aires. If the person talking to you is speaking English, you’re not experiencing the ‘real’ Buenos Aires. Of course this rule of thumb cannot be true because even staged authenticity has its roots in truth. La Boca is a neighborhood in Buenos Aires that every tourist goes to. Its full of colorful houses and murals painted by the famous Argentine artist Benito Martín. The streets are lined with restaurants offering a Tango show while you eat featuring dancers dressed in ‘traditional’ lacy, sexy Tango costumes. Venders of course are selling t-shirts and knick-knacks of all sorts. The smart tourist though sees through the front and quickly leaves in search of true authenticity. However this statement assumes too much. La Boca was indeed the first major immigrant neighborhood in Buenos Aires, and the development of Tango, which is indeed an important part of Argentine history and culture, occurred there. This real authenticity and history of La Boca however doesn’t change the fact that normal Porteños (people of Buenos Aires) don’t go there. To them it’s glitzy, boring, and you might get robbed by the thieves that make their living preying on rich tourists.

To me the authenticity of a place, and its degree of seeming staged, is in the eyes of the beholder, in the eyes of the tourist. For me La Boca was a tourist milking machine, evolved perhaps from an authentic origin, but transformed today into a place to take money from rich travelers. However ESMA, to me, was a truly authentic experience. ESMA is a memorial museum of sorts of the dictatorship in the 1970s and the people that were disappeared during it. I went with NYU and was walking around the old military barracks in a group of 40 students with a tour guide explaining what happened in different places. I was very clearly completing a tourist activity, but I felt like I was back stage. I was walking through the very rooms where thousands of people had been tortured and killed. It wasn’t fun or pleasant, and I didn’t feel the sense of tourist accomplishment that some may feel from their visit to La Boca, but I certainly didn’t feel any sense of made up appearances, or fake front.

Even after reading the excerpt from MacCannell’s book, my experience at ESMA still does not seem frivolous or touristy to me, but I understand how a local might compare a day in ESMA and La Boca. After all, I did have a tour guide at ESMA. I was very clearly an outsider learning the history of the place I was visiting, information which is common knowledge to a Porteño. But interestingly to me, the one place felt more authentic than the other.

Visit my personal blog for less words and more photos.

Who is Evita?

My first week here in Buenos Aires I visited the cemetery of Recoletta (see picture). We went because we were already visiting the park and the market that is set up every weekend near by, and it looked interesting. I don't usually like visiting graveyards, but this is no ordinary lawn with some ugly stones strewn about. This cemetery feels like a village. The tombs are constructed without space between them and are all made of beautiful marble. Some have ornate statues of angels or crucifixions decorating them. There are some older tombs that have begun to fall apart, but in general, the entire atmosphere is awe inspiring.

One fact we learned was that Eva Perón (also called Evita) was buried there. I had heard the name Eva Perón, but didn't know who she was. We looked long and hard for her grave, but she wasn't in the tallest or the grandest structure. Eventually we found a line of about 50 people. This must be it.

Her grave was small (in comparison), but covered in flowers from visitors. The woman in front of us in line had my friends and I guffawing as she instructed her tour guide exactly what sort of clothes Evita was wearing on any particular day (see video. You had to be there though). Hearing such a well educated (obsessed) woman describe obscure details about this woman was hilarious at the time, but intriguing after the fact. Who is this woman, Eva Perón, the wife of the famous president of Argentina Juan Perón, that people line up to stare at grave and memorize details of her life? Here's what I found out.

To sum up, Evita was champion of the poor. She gave away 25 thousand homes and over 3 million packages of medicine, furniture and clothes in her life time. Even before she passed away the Vatican received over 40 thousand letters requesting Evita be canonized. In 1952 at 35 years old, Evita fell ill with cancer and died. In the months leading up to her death thousands of people around Argentina prayed, fasted, or conducted feats of perseverance and dedication in her name. One woman fasted for entire week drinking only two glasses of water a day, until a storm wiped out her tent and along with it, the woman herself. A group of seven men worked in their factory polishing cylinders for 109 hours straight in the name of Evita. A professional dancer danced tango for 127 hours with 127 different partners. The story that struck me the most however was that of the saddle maker Raimundo Masa. This poor working man decided to take his entire family, wife, two sons, and a baby, on a pilgrimage across Argentina to a special church in the Andes 600 miles away. Forty days into the trip, his sons fainted and he started to carry them on his back. After three days of this labor he could not continue and collapsed in front of a cave. He prayed all night that God would restore health to Evita. Masa's wife couldn't fathom how her husband could ignore his own family, but to this he responded "We are who we are, nobodies. If Evita dies, though, those left without hope will number in the thousands. There are people like us everywhere, but there is only one saint like Evita."

I cannot imagine the sacrifice that this man or many others made out of their love and passion for a cultral icon and a politician. I think the existence of such a powerful leader in the history of Argentina, with the ability of move a nation with her words and actions, continues to affect the way politics works, and also the way people treat their leaders here. Argentina has had a long, bumpy political history since Evita's death, but still her image prevails as a defender of the people.

I am sure I will learn more about this incredible leader and hope to share with you what I find out.

Source: The Argentina Reader, Saint Evita Tomás Martínez.

She was also beautiful inspiring fashion trends and making blond hair popular among both youth and older generations.

Visit my personal blog for less words and more pictures.

During the week I get about 5-6 hours of sleep per night because I go to bed around 3 am and have to get up early for my 9 o’clock language class. To compensate for this, I take a nap in the afternoon from 4-6 before dinner. The weekends cant work this way however because the Argentine schedule for having fun at night is nuts. Essentially no club or bar will have any people in it until 2:00 am, so its not even really worth leaving the house until 12:30 or 1, and we often don’t come home until 5 (real Argentines stay out till the sun comes up, close to 6 or 7, but my body doesn’t work that way quite yet).

One unusual part of being here in Buenos Aires has been the going out. Not just the crazy late night going out, but clubbing and partying at all. In New York I can’t afford out,  (never mind not being old enough to go out to most places in the first place). To high light differences in prices I think transportation is a good area to examine.

A taxi ride to Palermo, the closest nightlife hub, costs between $20 - $30 pesos, which is $5 - $8 US (4:1 exchange rate). If you want to squeeze out a ‘free’ drink for the night, you can take the bus which costs $1.20 pesos, or about $0.30 US. Also known as FREE. One fact I find interesting is that the difference between taking public transportation and taking a taxi is greater here than it is in the states. If my friends and I are out in New York, we might start walking to the subway but realize, wait, if we split the cab, it’ll cost each of us about the same as the subway, and be much more convenient. Here, although yes cabs are much cheaper than New York City, splitting a cab will never be cheaper than taking the bus. In fact, it will always be significantly more expensive. To me this is a testament to a culture that cares about the public. Efficient and cheap public transportation is valuable to Argentines, so they set up and maintain a high quality public transportation system.

On food.

It took me a while, but I finally found decent food. I was surprised, but a lot of the food I’ve had here has been just plain awful. Now, I do keep mostly vegetarian, and that can present challenges around the world, but I’ve even taken the plunge and tried some meat dishes that have been quite underwhelming. Fortunately however I recently discovered a small vegetarian rotisserie that sells food by the kilo that is absolutely delicious! And a decent sized lunch costs about 12 pesos, or 3 dollars. And this is no unfulfilling greasy falafel, I’m talking spiced tofu, fried noodles, vegetable pie, home fries, tomato salad, and peach. All for a NYC subway fare.

On laundry.

See video :) I posted the video for personal blog which you can always visit for more photos and less words, but I thought I'd post it in this post too since it fits in with the day-to-day life theme.

Oh, and for those who are interested, a pack of cigarettes costs $2 US and a 750ml bottle of whisky at the grocery store starts at $4 US...no excise tax here.

Puedo hablar español. Corrección: pensé que podía hablar español.

I can speak Spanish. Correction: I thought I could speak Spanish.

When it comes to languages I work very hard. To become fluent in Spanish is my number one goal this semester, and to achieve this I speak in Spanish as much as possible: with my host mom, with my teachers, and when possible, with my peers. It takes discipline, but I know enough of the language to essentially communicate what ever I am thinking. The big if is that I can communicate with people who also speak English. As soon as I try to order empanadas de verduras I am met with a “Perdón?” I point at the small pie filled with vegetables.  “Ahh, verduras!” Yeah, that’s what I said, verduras. Im in a cab and the driver asks me if I’m a student and where I’m from. “What did he say?” I whisper to Olaya who is from Spain and speaks fluently. “He asked you where you’re from.” Now I feel like an idiot. I know how to say that in Spanish! I just don’t know how to say it super fast with a thick accent and slurred words.

I can talk politics with my host mom because she speaks slowly and enunciates clearly, but even basic Spanish 1 coming from a local is so hard to understand that I’m afraid to order food. This is doubly frustrating because first I’m afraid to talk to natives for fear of being misunderstood, and second I’m speaking less Spanish, which is contrary to my goal of becoming fluent.

Being afraid to ask questions/unable to communicate with the people around me is hard for obvious reasons, but there are times when it’s extra hard. For example, after spending way too much time pouring over my Guia T, I finally figure out which number bus I need. I look around for a while and find the stop, but before I get on the bus I have a problem. Do I need iba or regresa? Its almost impossible to tell from reading the book, so I have to fumble through asking someone.

In general I think the fear of not being able to communicate is mostly in my head. I might get a few eye rolls after the third “pardón?” when I ask who ever I’m speaking with to repeat what they said. In general, however, I find that people are understanding of foreigners. If I just find the courage to try I think (I hope) I’ll learn so fast that soon this difficulty will be gone. For now though the fear of being unable to communicate is strong.

For more photos and less words visit my personal blog.

I never thought about it before, but good maps are important! From the size of the map when it is all folded up, to the little pictures of recognizable landmarks, a good map makes all the difference. NYU gave me about three maps of the city, my host mom gave me another two, and I came with one of my own. I’ve cast aside the bad ones, and now I consistently use three different maps. Tango1 is a map of my local area that folds up very small and fits nicely into my back pocket. At home in my dorm though I use Buenos Aires Map. Its larger so I don’t carry it with me, but easier to see street names and numbers.

Finally perhaps the most important map for any Porteño (person from Buenos Aires) is the Guia“T”. The Guia“T” is the paper version of google maps for Buenos Aires, and since google maps doesn’t exist here, its invaluable. It has an index of every street in the city and references you to the proper page and section of page to see a map of an address. In addition, it tells you which buses go to that block which is important because the buses in Buenos Aires are the main mode of transport. Taxis are expensive (relative to the bus. They’re dirt cheap compared to NYC taxis) and the buses are frequent and fast.

Like many other things from my life back in the states (food, consistent water pressure, english) google maps is one of those things that I don’t realize how much I rely on it until I don’t have it any more.

In class last week I was shown a map of the entire city of Buenos Aires. It was amazing because so far the maps I’ve been using only show the eastern side next to the river where NYU and all of the homestays are located. The city is huge, and I’ve been living in a little bubble for the past week. Perhaps that’s good though; take the city one step at a time. Its exciting to know however that there is still so much city to explore. I would say that a fault of using a partial map is that I tend to forget there is more city out there. All the bars and clubs my friends and I have gone to are visible on our little maps of the near by neighborhoods. Obviously its convenient to stay close, but convenient usually means not as good...

To finish this post I will leave you with a fun fact. Every Argentinian map puts north in a different direction. In other words, its completely confusing to compare two different maps because you will have to hold one on an angle to align them properly!

As always, visit my personal blog for less words and more pictures.

Saludos,
Rhoen

“If our lives are dominated by a search for happiness, then perhaps few activities reveal as much about the dynamics of this quest - in all its ardour and paradoxes -  than our travels.” (Botton, pg 9)

For most of my life, my love of learning has inspired me. My passion to experience new experiences, meet new people, learn new languages has fueled life and is what brought me to Gallatin, a place, where I feel, other students are also motivated by their love of learning. To me the very act of traveling is a learning experience, but not some ordinary look-mom-I-made-this-today experience. Traveling is a challenge. It requires wits and courage. It requires physical strength and mental strength. It demands concentration and focus. But after all these hurdles travel can offer a learning greater learning than any classroom.

The human world is one of social interactions, and the modern human world is one of social interactions between humans of every color, from every location on the planet  speaking every language that exists (one more generation though and I believe english might be spoken by a majority of the world). If we can get past our inner Duc des Esseintes, I believe travel is the best and only way to truly gain an understanding of people and at a fundamental level, every concentration possible is affected by people.

The quote about happiness I included at the top fascinated me when I read it, and I still haven’t figured out what it means to me. I don’t often think of my life in terms of my personal search for happiness, but Botton is right. Ben and Jerry said it too “if its not fun, why do it?” I am going to try and keep this idea in mind as I continue my studies her in Buenos Aires.

To close I’d like to share a story that Botton’s quote reminded me of. This past summer I traveled to Greece to visit my grandfather who lives on his sailboat and was staying at a small island at the time. I flew into Athens and decided to give myself three days there in the city to have to myself, do a little sight seeing, and try the backpacking experience. Those three days were some of the most introspective and lonely days of my life. I’m happy that I went to Athens, and I’m grateful for that opportunity, but mostly I’m glad that I learned to never travel alone again. Like Botton who was miserable in Bermuda hotel, it took living truly alone with out any friends or family around me to realize how important to my happiness they are.

Remember, you can always visit my personal blog for less words and more pictures.

Saludos,
Rhoen

Hola Ustedes!

Me llamo Rhoen y este semestre estoy estudiando en Buenos Aires, la capital de Argentina!

This week is the first week of classes and after having the chance to shop some classes I realized that I wanted to take the Art of Travel. My concentration is How The World Works, and in New York I have been taking sociology, economics, and philosophy courses. To me, by virtue of being abroad I am continueing the study of the world and how it works, but while i am here i am shifting my academic focus to primarily spanish. I am enrolled in a spanish language course, a latin american music course, and two Argentinian culture courses (one of which is required of all students in the BA program to take).

I arrived in Buenos Aires on February 7th, my sister‘s birthday, and spent all week in orientation or doing various school organized activities. Saturday February 12th was my 20th birthday. Needless to say I had an absolutely fantastic weekend. If you are interested you can see a detailed post with lots of photos and several videos on my personal blog rhoenpa.wordpress.com.

I have two major goals for my time here. Primarily I want to become completely fluent in Spanish. My second goal is to take salsa dance classes in the city and go out dancing as much as possible. Having an amazing time and making friends are life goals that I consider perpetual and I am always striving for!

I look forward to reading everyone else's blogs and getting to know all of you.
Saludos,
Rhoen