two 'embers

A full-moon tour of Iguazu Falls. My final days with the kids at San Tarsicio. Hiking in Patagonia, times two. Seeing Andy again. Trekking on a glacier. Saying good-bye to Buenos Aires, a city I love. Returning home to Minneapolis, a city I love even more. Thanksmas. Seeing friends and family after six months away. Two Christmases in Milwaukee. Another Christmas in Austin. Ringing in a new year; a year for which I have no life plan, a year in which anything is possible.

I know embers are technically the smoldering remains of what once was, but I have a feeling that, for me, things are just getting started.

chai

My yoga studio here has the best chai I´ve ever tasted. And I´ve consumed a lot of chai in my day - namely gallons of hot, sweet, spicy deliciousness in Kenya - and I think this might be slightly better. That, or it´s just been so long since I tasted that sweet Kenyan nectar that this is my new favorite. Either way, I make sure to arrive early to every class to have a little cup of chai, and I linger after class to have another little cup... or three. (And also to practice my Spanish, but who am I kidding, it´s mostly for the chai).

Anyway, I am so clearly obsessed with the chai that some of my new yogi friends who work at the studio gave me the recipe for it. Huzzah! Now when I return to the frigid arctic that is Minnesota in January, I´ll be able to sip on this and remember all the good times I had in my warm little yoga studio in Buenos Aires.

I´ve provided the recipe below, in my best attempt at translating it from Portuguese (don´t ask). So if any of you are craving really delicious chai, you should try this and let me know how it goes. Maybe I´ll get a bunch of you addicted so when I get back we can sit around in circles sipping chai and practicing our headstands. That would be both fantastic and slightly creepy.

Chai Recipe*:

Ingredients:

1/2 liter of water

1/2 liter of milk
5 sticks (branches?) of cardamom (grind the entire stick/branch - seeds, stem and all - with a mortar and pestle (or something of the sorts) and add it all into the chai)
2 cinnamon sticks (you can break these apart a little bit)
6 heaping spoons of sugar (you can add more or less, depending on how sweet you like your chai)
3 heaping spoons of black tea (or a bunch of tea bags)

1/2 cup grated ginger (from actual ginger root...)

Instructions:
Bring the water to a boil and add the ginger, cardamom and cinnamon. Add the milk and bring to a boil again. Remove from heat, add the tea and let it sit for three minutes. (Do not boil the chai once the tea has been added.) Use a strainer to remove the ginger, cardamom, cinnamon and tea from the chai. Stir in the sugar. Enjoy.

*Note of warning: Remember that I translated this recipe from Portuguese. I do not speak Portuguese. Also, please keep in mind that I´ve never attempted to make this chai myself. Godspeed.

day to day

I feel like I never really blogged about what I do here on a daily basis... what a "typical" day in Buenos Aires is like for me. Maybe that's because I haven't really had a 9-5, Monday-Friday routine like I did back at home... every day is a little different, depending on how I choose to spend my free time. However, I'll try to give you a sense of how I spend my days. Thrilling, I know. Hold on to the seat of your pants.

On days that I teach, I either wake up around 10:30 and go for a run, or sleep until 12:30. (This makes me sound extremely lazy, I know, but keep in mind that my average bedtime is around 2am.) I shower, eat a boring breakfast of All-Bran with banana and milk (don't judge - I need my fiber), and check my email and Facebook (I've become a Facebook junkie during my time here... again, don't judge).

Then I walk thirty minutes to school, varying my route occasionally, but I usually walk down a pretty little sidestreet, daydreaming. I arrive at 2, teach/observe/hang out with the kids until 4:15, then walk home. At this point my "free time" commences, since I have about five hours from the time I arrive home until we eat dinner.

I fill that time by eating lunch (usually some form of take-out from a cafe or veggie restaurant), reading, blogging, writing in my journal, hanging out with Ia and his friends, chatting with Lourdes in the kitchen, and, if I haven't roused myself at the ungodly hour of 10:30 to run that day, going to yoga.

Then around 10:30 I eat dinner with the family, usually with the TV blaring behind me (this family loves their dinner-time political talk shows). After dinner I occasionally watch some TV of my own (usually bad American television or some romantic comedy I've already seen), but usually I retreat to my room to catch up on emailing, listen to music, do some more writing and reading, and talk to Andy.

Things that disrupt this evening routine (approximately twice a week) include: dinner with a friend, a cultural event (i.e. live folk music, a tango show, a movie), and/or ordering-in ice cream.

Weekends (Friday through Sunday) are when things really get crazy, without any sort of "schedule" dictating how I spend my days. I sleep in (aka I don't wake up with an alarm), go to yoga or for a long run, then usually choose a "fun" afternoon activity, like going to a street fair, meeting friends for a late lunch, hanging out in a park, shopping, exploring a new part of the city, or going to see a movie. My weekends are usually low-key, which is just how I like them.

And that's about it (excluding travels, visitors, and the first month I was here, when I spent most days walking around the city, seeing the sights). The thing about living in a place for an extended period of time is that not every day is a big sight-seeing adventure... that would get old pretty fast. Five months is enough time to form habits and routines, and to not feel like I always need to be doing something fabulous or new or super exciting. I've liked having normalcy, and getting to know my neighborhood, and being able to choose how I spend my time.

It's been a great experience, becoming part of a huge city... blending in to the crowds on the sidewalks and becoming lost in crowded subway cars... just another anonymous face on someone's commute home.

the argentimes

So the teaching thing has been great, but I was itching for something a little more challenging... I needed a little diversity; something to jump-start my brain. My mom had been encouraging me to email The Argentimes, an English newspaper in Buenos Aires, and I finally did. I offered up my public relations skills (free of charge), and the editor/founder took the bait.

I met with her last week to discuss how I could be put to use - we decided that I'll be in charge of fleshing out the "Inside Argentina" section of their website, which will serve as an all-inclusive guide to the city (restaurants, travel services, language schools, volunteer opportunities, cultural events, etc.), targeting expats and tourists. I'll be contacting local businesses and meeting with people all over the city, trying to convince as many of them as possible that they want to be included in the guide. Since I'm only going to be around for another month or so, my job is to get as much done as I can in the next four weeks.

I'm excited to have a new project, and am looking forward to seeing how much ground I can cover before I'm Patagonia-bound. First step, a pitch letter... apparently some things never change.

Wish me luck!

(Also - I'll still be teaching two days a week... I couldn't leave the kids quite yet.)

uruguay's got it going on

I can clearly remember sitting in my high school Spanish class, memorizing the names of the countries in South America, thinking that "Uruguay" and "Paraguay" sounded so strange and foreign. I wondered if anyone actually traveled to these little places squeezed between Argentina and Brazil... and I never imagined that some day I'd be setting off for a long weekend in either of the 'Guays. But, here I am, eight years later, shaking Uruguayan sand out of the pockets of my clothes as I unpack. And let me tell you... it may be small, and it may have a funny name, but Uruguay's got it going on.

Montevideo is the country's capital, and it sits across the wide, brown Rio de la Plata from Buenos Aires. Easily accessible by ferry, which is just how Alie and I arrived on Thursday morning. We spent the day walking around the city (we must have trekked at least eight miles that day), enjoying the sunshine and taking it all in.

Montevideo has a modern part of the city and a Ciudad Vieja (old city). The new part felt a lot like Buenos Aires, only smaller and more manageable, and the old part felt like some odd combination of a Mediterranean fishing village and the run-down areas of Baltimore. It had a mellow vibe, and everyone in the streets seemed just a little happier, and a little nicer, than their friends on the other side of the river. Our favorite part was the city's boardwalk, which wound along the coast for miles, starting by the shipping docks, passing residential and business areas, and skirting past city beaches and parks. It was beautiful, and the breeze off the water was a welcome break from Buenos Aires' narrow, city-bus-clogged streets.

We ate street food for lunch - I had a fantastic chorizo sandwich served in a plastic baggie - and ice cream from a stand in a park for dessert. Then to reward ourselves after our long walk, we stopped in at a gas station by a beach and bought 40s of Corona... the gas station attendant uncapped our bottles, and we helped ourselves to some limes in a bowl in the fridge that were provided specifically for beer drinkers like us. We sat outside as the sun went down, sipping our cold drinks, looking out over the water, and exclaiming how lucky we were. Lucky indeed.

On Friday morning we took off for Punta del Este - a ritzy beachtown on a peninsula in the Atlantic, a two-hour bus ride from Montevideo. I was a little wary of the "ritzy" part of the equation, but since it was off-season, things were quiet and low-key. In other words, perfect. The beaches were beautiful, the town was pretty, and the room in our hostel had a view of the ocean. We spent the next two days lying on the beach, enjoying sunshine and salty air, eating fresh fish and salads and ice cream, reading, and taking long walks along the boardwalk.

We even got lucky our last night in town and found ourselves sitting in the middle of a bar/restaurant that was broadcasting a World Cup Qualifier game (Uruguay versus Ecuador) on a big-screen TV. Not a single person had their chair turned with their back to the game, so we followed suit. We ordered beer, I ordered a Chivito Canadiense (a traditional Uruguayan sandwich consisting of steak, ham, bacon, egg, lettuce, tomato, olives, cheese and mayonnaise on french bread - yes, it's as wonderful/disgusting as it sounds) and french fries, and we spent the next hour and a half riding the emotions of the excited, then distraught, then ecstatic Uruguayan fans. Uruguay ended up winning on a penalty kick in the last play of the game, and that place was electric. It was one of those moments that reminds me why I travel - to be there when little instances of unfiltered culture happen... to know they occur every day all around the world in thousands of forms, and I got to be there for one of them.

Another little moment happened later that night, but was much less pleasant. We decided to save some money by staying in hostels, and in dorm rooms to boot. We signed up for an all-girls' dorm, which we had on night one, but on night two, boys appeared. Yikes. No big deal though, until they came in at 7am, loud and drunk. The girl in the bunk above me was snoring very loudly, and one of the boys decided to try and get her to stop by poking her. I opened my eyes to find a mostly-naked man in skin-tight white undies standing on his tiptoes by my bed, his package nicely on display and less than eighteen inches from my face. Uff-dah. I am definitely getting too old for the whole Hostel Gig.

But despite the Whitie Tightie Incident, it was a great trip. Relaxing, beautiful, and a good way to recharge for the last leg of my time in Buenos Aires. Thanks, Uruguay, for a great weekend. I'm sorry I ever made fun of your name.

Above: Montevideo's Boardwalk; A Kiss; Three Trees; Cold Coronas; Punta del Este; Punta's Harbor; Punta's Coast; A Hand in the Sand; Chivito Canadiense.

For the complete collection from Montevideo, click here. Punta del Este photos yet to come...

let the travels begin

Considering the fact that I'm in a foreign country with a flexible schedule and a lot of free time, I haven't done much traveling. In the past sixteen weeks I've spent a total of five days outside of the city - three in Mendoza, one in Colonia, Uruguay, and one in a town on the river delta an hour train ride away. Much different from my semester in Spain, when I traveled to eight countries in four months. But this travel void is about to be filled.

In the next eight weeks I'll be taking four trips - a long weekend to Montevideo and Punta del Este, Uruguay, with my friend Alie; a quick jaunt up to Iguazu Falls with my friend Rachael; an eight-to-ten-day trip to Bariloche and the Lakes District in Northern Patagonia, travel companion being sought out; and a week in Southern Patagonia, taking in Glaciers National Park with Andy.

It's going to be a great couple months, and I'm really looking forward to getting out of the city and exploring what the rest of the country has to offer. This means you'll have to deal with fewer posts, but I promise to make it up to you with lots of good stories and photographs.

First up, Uruguay. I depart tomorrow morning on an 8am ferry, so I'll see you all next week.

Let the travels begin.

the grass is always greener

Every night I have a delicious, hot dinner served to me without having to lift a finger. I miss cooking, and eating what I want, when I want.

I don't have to clean my own bathroom. I look forward to not having to stand on the edges of the tub to get the water pressure necessary to thoroughly clean my hair.

Freshly washed sheets magically appear on my bed every Tuesday. I can't wait to bury myself in our expensive cotton sheets under our fluffy down comforter.

I have my laundry done at a drop-off laundry service for US$4 a load. I'm excited to get back to gentle cycles and dryer sheets.

A doorman usually calls the elevator for me and chats with me while I wait for it. It will be so nice to wait for the old, slow elevator in our building without being hit on.

I go to a wonderful yoga class led by a fantastic instructor in a beautiful old building. I've been longing for a heated Friday-night Vinyasa class that leaves my arms and legs wobbly in the most satisfying of ways.

It's been so great to see how connected Andy and I have remained despite the distance. I can't wait for the day that we can communicate through a hug.

I have so much time to read. I miss having access to endless shelves of books.

I love being able to practice my Spanish every day. It will be a little relieving to be back in a place where I'm fluent in the official language.

The list of things I love about Buenos Aires grows with each day that passes. I look forward to the day when I can remember it all with fondness.


Maybe it's less about the grass being greener and more about learning to appreciate what I'm blessed with at any given point in my life.

holy october

Where is the time going? Yesterday I hit the eight-weeks-until-Andy-arrives mark, and got really excited and a little panicked at the same time... Clearly I can't wait to see him again, but I have a lot I want to do in the next eight weeks. No more messing around. I have a mere 54 days to: travel to Uruguay for a four-day weekend; complete eight more hours of private tutoring; take a long weekend to see Iguazu Falls; eat at at least fifteen new restaurants; see a futbol match or two; check off a few more museums; explore BA's Chinatown; spend a week or so tromping around Bariloche and the Lakes District; teach those ten-year-olds a couple more lessons; try at least five new flavors of ice cream; volunteer; put my nose to the Spanish-learning grindstone; and, most importantly, slow down and appreciate the daily joys of my life here in Buenos Aires.

I can't believe that at one point I actually thought to myself, "Wake me up... when September ends..."

alice the great

I realized the other day that I never told all of you about Alice the Brit. Alice arrived from England in mid-August and was placed in my homestay for four weeks. She came through the same program I'm here with and slept in the bedroom across the hall. She was here on summer break before her third year at Oxford, where she's studying Spanish and French language and literature.

She was great. Outgoing, fun, easy to be around. Plus, she used phrases like "I reckon" and "Bloody hell" and "I'm going to nip to the loo to take a wee." For a month I had a live-in partner-in-crime to conquer the city with. We explored new neighborhoods, tried new restaurants, saw a tango show, took a day-trip to the nearby river delta, and spent nights watching bad movies and ordering in ice cream. It was a good month, and I was sad to see her go.

But, she did leave behind one of the best gifts I've received in quite some time - a relationship with my host brother Ia. For some reason, before I had Alice in the house, I was kind of shy and reserved around my host brothers. Completely unlike me? Yep. True story? Sadly. Whenever Ia (the younger of my two host brothers) would have friends over, I'd say hi, chat for a few minutes, then slip away. I didn't want to intrude... which, in retrospect, was one of the most unfounded assumptions I've ever made. But (thankfully) all that changed with Alice.

She arrived, both guns blazing. She wasn't shy at all, and she plopped herself down on the couch and started jabbering away, asking the boys all sorts of personal questions and demanding answers. Her Spanish was really, really good - she made forming friendships with Ia and his friends seem so simple. I still can't wrap my head around what I was doing before she arrived...

...Not being myself, that's for sure. And not enjoying the company of some really great guys. Ia and crew are fantastic. His three best friends are named Rulo, Mono and Kiko - literally, Curly, Monkey and some odd nickname. They're funny, nice, interesting, and very patient with my Spanish. I really enjoy spending time with them, and do so quite a bit. A couple afternoons a week we sit around the house listening to music while they smoke cigarettes and discuss politics. They invite me to parks to drink mate, to their Friday night asados (barbeques) and to their run-down-bachelor-pad parties. We even have plans to go hear live jazz at a couple of their favorite venues. I suppose you could say that we've entered the full-fledged-friendship stage of our relationship.

I like to think that if Alice wouldn't have lived here I eventually would have come out of my shell on my own and befriended this ragtag group of twenty-something Argentine guys... but having her and her this-is-how-it's-going-down attitude certainly sped that process along.

I wonder what they thought of me before... I was probably "That Quiet Girl who spends a lot of time in her bedroom." A far shot from the truth, and a one-eighty from the girl they saw drinking Fernet and Coke and dancing to reggaeton at their party last weekend.

The times, they are a changin'.

Above: Alice and me, followed by Ia (left) and Rulo (right)

packed with nutrients

White rice with butter, fried eggs and boiled hot dogs. Argentina's version of "I don't feel like cooking tonight."