We all talk about being knowingly addicted to the internet, well the net at my house has crapped the bed recently and ive been twitching like an addict without it. I'm at a crummy cafe now, paying for a shitty croissant, just to bring this latest bulletin to you.
Old Argentine men are incredibly distinguished dressers. You walk down the street and it looks like your walking through an issue of Esquire. Color coordinated, shoes perfectly polished and shined, overcoats over suits over vests or sweaters topped of with a tie. Walking through Recoleta, one of the nicer neighborhoods in the city, this phenomenon is incredibly prevalent.
The coordinator of our program, Mario, is a perfect example of the “distinguished ‘caballero’ (gentleman)”. A few nights ago, a group of us attended a production of the American play “Fat Pig” (called Gorda here).
The play, written by Neil LaBute, the guy behind Nurse Betty (surprisingly funny) and The Wicker Man (also surprisingly funny but in entirely different ways, most notably being Nicholas Cage’s horribly bonkers performance in it which is highlighted by a two minute montage seen here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6i2WRreARo (part of the movie he spends assaulting female members of a cult while in a teddy bear suit and being attacked by bees)). But aside from that digression, LaBute is known as a good playwright and the first production of Fat Pig starred Jeremy Piven in the lead role off Broadway.
It’s the story of a physically conscious yuppie (easy to imagine Piven in the role) beginning a relationship with an overweight woman and the pressures that he faces due to this. Needless to say, it was difficult to understand the play. The Spanish came fast, especially during the arguments during the play. However, acting, like many arts, is universal. The gestures, the tone of voice, the little quirks helped me understand the play.
Also I found myself laughing when everyone else in the theater was, then looking around directly afterwards confused, realizing I had no idea why I was laughing.
The play probably had an added significance down here due to the image conscious society. Maybe it’s only my altered perspective, but most women I have seen around the city have so far lived up to the reputation as being hot. But again, the foreign factor adds to the level of attraction. I know that at some bars, I’ve gotten into conversations simply because me, simple American, identifies himself as Michael Fox como el actor en Detras al Futuro.
Following the play, a few of us when to a Battle of the Bands hosted by the pub crawl people at a bar that they sort of ran. Imagine my shock walking in to see a Beer Pong table laid out in a place that resembled the typical trendy Argentine bar.
I had found an ex-pat bar down here. But the place proved to be an interesting fusion of Argentine and American bar culture (and I used that word after I remember that was the bar’s name).
The bands played a 30 minute set list of covers, usually American, and original material, in Spanish. Argentine rocks pretty damn good.
The next day, we continued our ongoing academic orientation. Down here, the public school, La Universidad de Buenos Aires, is the more prestigious institution, yet it has around 300,000 students. If people thought SouthWest was big, wait till they see an academic building the size of two of the towers.
Supposedly its an anarchic, bureaucratic mess, the buildings are grafitied, and completely impersonal. However, its reputation is huge and prestigious as one of the premier institutions in South America.
Everyone is an extremely partisan fan of their own school, the public, the private, the religious, everyone believes their school has the most prestige. To think in the states, we judge based on fun level.
Last night, I set off to catch a different drum show at the same exhibition center, which is I guess even more safe than I thought, being that its run by a government non-profit. But I got waylaid, waited in line outside of a trendy bar, got impatient, and lead a group back to the hookah bar.
The difference between trendy and pretentious is directly proportional to the wait outside and the amount to do inside. Pretentious trendy bars are only good when you feel special there and cut lines and get preferential treatment. Fun trendy you actually feel cool being at.
On the way home, ironically at the corner of Jorge Luis Borges Street and another, I passed by a car. Now anyone that remotely knows me knows why the 1965 Aston Martin DB5 is my dream car. For those that don’t, it’s the James Bond car in Goldfinger. However, I’ve found a new car to love.
It’s a Dodge Charger from the 70s on sale for a few thousand pesos. It has a stereotypical muscle car paint job of black and red but its fading a bit. The interior is a little shabby. But the body on the car is in one piece (more than could be said for my dearly departed Jag). What it would be like to buy that car, leave the city, and fly across the pampas in that beautiful piece of Detroit machinery.
Talk about absolute freedom.
I know its irrational to chase this Kerouacian dream. That maybe even the hope for road trip adventure would be far from the exotic voyage imagine, but akin to a modern American roadtrip. Cruising interstates completely devoid of excitement, adventure, or character.
But part of me knows that that frontier, that adventure is still out there to be found. And maybe behind the wheels of that car or maybe a car in Ankara. But wouldn’t it be fun to try?
I’m sitting in a café now, completely detached from that feeling of isolated adventure. I’m listening to my itunes, waiting for an international call from my dad, dealing with some business at home that promises me a “warm welcome” when I come back in the winter.
Wow, that was some horrible writing in that last sentence. First, almost no one would get that I was making a sarcastic mention of my involvement in some student government crap. Additionally, the figurative language was so forced.
You know what, I’m going to take this opportunity to suck up to you all, whoever out there is reading this. I’ve considered writing a hobby since the fourth grade. I’ve written a 160 page novel on word that no one’s read. A 15 page beginning to another novel that a lot of people have read, but I can’t seem to continue, and countless high quality papers.
I love to write.
And it is so reassuring to know when people enjoy to hear what you have to say in the way that you chose to deliver it. The fact that a lot of you out there either care enough about me or enjoy my writing style enough to keep reading this blog, I really sincerely appreciate it.
This is the most visibility I’ve gotten as a writer (yes, more than the Daily Collegian because honestly how many people care to read about student government stories, even if they are on the front page). So again, I thank you everyone out there who is reading this and giving me a reason to keep writing, even when I pretty much talk about nothing, like I did in this blog.
Every night’s not going to be some great tale of drunken adventure and not every day will be full of some great philosophical awakening. I am aware that even down here, normal life exists. I’m slowly sinking into it, little things are becoming more normalized.
So, I will do my best to give you something entertaining to write, even when its just daily life. Because, if I can make my daily life exciting to read, I must be a good writer. Either that or just a good embellisher.
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