UPDATE: NOW ON WORDPRESS

Hey everyone,

Until further notice, I HAVE OFFICIALLY MOVED TO WORDPRESS. That means that anyone subscribing to me here at blogger should mosey on over to my wordpress bliggity blog and subscribe to that RSS feed, instead. (please!)

You can find me here: chiccasroughdraft.wordpress.com

Thank you all for your loyal blogspot readership! Now, go find me on wordpress.  :)


Love,
Chicca

Looking on the Bright Side Part II (or, at least, an attempt)

This post is dedicated to Homesick by Kings of Convenience.

It's hard being here and seeing everyone's pictures and posts on facebook-- life is really going on without me, in all aspects. I miss my friends and the people I love. The past day or so has been rough.  Life just needs to cool it, right now.

The bright side? Thanks, Alex, for reminding me of it-- today is a new day in a large city, and I can let this adventure take me where it will. The people who really care about me are the ones who will be there when I get back, and until then I am just trying to enjoy myself as much as possible.

Terrorism

This post isn't going to have a lot to do with Argentina, as a warning. If you're coming for updates, you're not really going to find them today.

When I signed up to go to Argentina, the study abroad group I am with automatically signed me up to be in contact with the State Department. It sounds kind of excessive, I know, but it means that if something like the volcano problems in Iceland or the earthquake in Chile happen again the US government has the ability to contact me and make sure I am safe and accounted for.

This morning I received my first travel warning from the US government. Did they want to tell me that it's earthquake season? That another ash cloud is making its way across the continent? Or that perhaps Godzilla decided to take a vacation and trample another city for once?

No, no, and no. The reason that we got a message from the US government is because the 10th anniversary of the events on September 11 is coming up in a mere six days, and they wanted to issue a travel warning. The exact wording of the message is this (though the bold spots are highlighted by me):

"As we mark the 10^th Anniversary of the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, the Department of State informs U.S. citizens traveling and residing abroad of the continued threat posed by al-Qa’ida and its affiliates.  While we have not identified any specific threats from al-Qa’ida affiliates and allies to attack the United States or our interests on the 9/11 anniversary, U.S. citizens should be aware that al-Qa’ida affiliates and allies have demonstrated the intent and capability to carry out attacks against the United States and our interests around the world.  In the past, terrorist organizations have on occasion planned their attacks to coincide with significant dates on the calendar.  This Worldwide Travel Alert supplements the July 26, 2011, Worldwide Caution, andexpires on January 2, 2012."


Ridiculous, no? The fact that they are basing this warning around a date on the calendar? Why not issue warnings for every major holiday, or even every day? And does the fact that this warning is effective until January strike anyone else as overly excessive?

This has started me thinking about terrorism.

By my standards, the terrorists who attacked the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001 accomplished their goal. They have created a world where Americans live in fear. They have created an environment in which it is okay for the government to inspire fear in its people for the sake of "safety."

I still remember a time when you could go through the airport without having your privacy invaded. Now, we take off our shoes, empty our water bottles, and make sure we aren't carrying shampoo in our carry-ons. While trying to get on my flight to Argentina I went through a spherical machine that scans your entire body for weapons and then was put through a full-body pat down. Why? Because I had forgotten to take off my money belt before stepping into the machine, and it had created a suspicious bulge in my jeans. The obvious response was, of course, to search my entire body for weapons.

I guess living in America has given me the false impression that the entire world lives in fear, but coming to Argentina has made me realize that I was completely wrong in thinking this. Even the differences between Argentine and US airports are astounding. They have so much less security, it's almost like theytrust people. Not having to take my shoes and my coat off to go through a scanner was so refreshing. There wasn't even a scanner for people to go through. We had to put our bags through an x-ray machine but I didn't even have to take my computer out of my bag. It was a breath of fresh air.

In fearing everything for the sake of safety, we as Americans stand alone. The government has taught us that it is a good thing to give up our right to privacy in order to catch potential terrorists (though in all reality, HOW many have they caught since all these measures were put into effect?). They have taught us to fear the strange in our daily lives. They have set us on edge for inauspicious dates. And that, my friends, means the terrorists have won.


EDIT: okay, so my mom pointed out that I had already passed security leaving the US, so I'll have to wait and see what security is like while leaving the country. I blame my tired brain. But still. My point about the warning still stands. Ridiculous.

Some Things Never Change

Yes, that is right. It is currently after 3 AM here and I am up, writing a paper on the day it is due. Did I start this one ahead of time? Yes. Which is new. Did I finish in a timely manner? No. Which is not new. Somehow being in Argentina and developing actual study habits has done nothing for the amount I still need to procrastinate while writing a paper. Yes, that is also right-- I said study habits! I actually spend time doing reading instead of watching 30 Rock and cooking elaborate meals. And yet somehow it is still after 3. Oh, well.

For the amount they play, Argentines do a surprising amount of work. I have more reading now than I've ever had to do in my life-- part of this, I'm sure, is that I dropped premed this semester and so am taking all reading-intensive classes, but WOW. This whole reading-all-the-time thing is HARD. And only about half of it is interesting, ugh.

Also, an update and an apology-- sorry to everyone who has been trying to comment and can't. I have no idea what is going on and really wish I could fix it, especially considering that Blogger won't let me comment on my own blog. Damn Google gremlins and their faulty technology.

I am going to whip up a bibliography and hit the sack. Until this weekend, dears, when I have more time to write...!

Feria de los Mataderos

Okay, first of all, I found this yesterday on my bookshelf. Question mark?

Japan: Why is it the way it is?

Secondly, even though I have class from 5-7 on Mondays it is currently 6.00 here and I am sitting in bed writing this post. Why, you ask? Because it's a national holiday! Booyah.

Argentines certainly love their holidays. One of my professors jokingly told me that three of the national pastimes are having strikes, celebrating holidays, and... I forget the third. But seriously, holidays. In the month I've been here there have been at least three-- Friendship Day, Children's Day, and the Day of San Martin (I think). From what I gather the holiday we are celebrating today-- the Day of San Martin-- is similar to America's celebration of George Washington's birthday. The actual day was last Wednesday, the 17. The only reason I know that is because I went to a museum with some friends on Avenida del Libertador-- avenue of the liberator-- and we saw the cavalry parading up and down the Avenida in full uniform!

Today, though, is the actual celebration of it. Celebrations of major holidays are all on Monday, which is GREAT because everyone gets a long weekend! Classes are cancelled and people don't go to work. So today, I went with some friends to the Feria del Matadero, or a gaucho fair.

Vendors were selling some pretty typical goods, like bone-handle knives and sweaters. There were also pretty a-typical goods like wine, honey, olives, and LOTS of food. More about goods later. What made it great, though, is that there was live music and dancing, as well as delicious, delicious food. Four of us had locro, or stew, for lunch that ended up being pretty good, but my friend Alex was the winner with a gigantic meat-filled tamale. I definitely won for dessert, though: some lady was selling enrolladas with dulce de leche-- cake and dulce de leche rolled into a log and cut into slices-- and gosh, it was so good.

Other successful purchases today include natural, unprocessed honey-- aka the best (and cheapest, because it's Argentina) honey I have ever tasted-- and llama wool yarn! Look look look!

I have no idea what I'm going to do with it yet. I don't know the gauge, I don't have needles, and I don't have a pattern in mind, but I paid 40 pesos (or USD10) for 200g of the stuff. Seriously, that is an incredible steal. You can't really tell from the picture-- the sun was going down as I took it and I was using my phone, not my Nikon-- but it's a wonderful light brown color and feels so soft. Any suggestions as to how I should use it?

The rest of today will be spent relaxing. As far as I can tell, I'm alone in the apartment for only the second time in the past month. I am taking advantage of it and lounging.

An Ode to Clara

Well, okay. Not quite an ode. More like a tribute. Or a love letter.

Clara is a ball of sunshine. She's always ready to give advice and listen to my ramblings. She's a great late-night working partner and is always keen to share a bowl of spicy ramen. Clara is a deep, thoughtful, caring human being. She has a way with words-- written words-- and can write the socks off almost anyone I know. She is a genuine person and is fun to be around. She makes me feel like a real person when I want to curl into ball and let the world spin around me.

Clara's blog is as adorable as baby shoes. Her posts are always insightful, thought-provoking, and deep. Her ability to find images to go along with the posts is astounding, and she is a GREAT regular poster (something I aspire to be!). She is not afraid to write her mind, even if it's a one-line appeal, a journey, or a heartbreak. Clara, half the time I read your blog I want to reach through the screen, across the country, across the world, and give you a gigantic bear hug. And because, Clara, for some reason your blog won't let me post, I've written you this ode. Or tribute. Or love letter.

It's to let you know that I'm here for you, no matter what. It's to let you know that even while you're in Denmark and missing everyone just like I am, we still have each other. And when we go back to school for the spring, you and I will be the people with the stories to tell, the life experiences, and the battle wounds to show for our trips. Plus each other. 'Cause you'll always have me. So don't fret, enjoy your trip, and cheer up some! Because even though it's a terrifying new experience (at least for me, it is), you're there to have some fun.  :)


Also, an aside: no worries. There is no before and after; there is only now and what comes next.

The Secret to Being Thin: Ride the Subte

Wednesday marked my first month in Buenos Aires. I’ve been having a grand old time down here. The clothing is so cheap! The leather such high quality! And the food, oh the food. It is all so, so good. But I still have a lot of unanswered questions about the city and its people.

Today’s question: why, considering the amount of meat and fried foods I’ve seen people eating, is everyone so damn skinny?? I couldn’t figure it out. I generally think of myself as a healthy person but because I messed up my heel a few weeks ago and haven’t been exercising I’m gaining weight like nobody’s business. But these people who have been surrounded by all this rich food their entire lives? They are like STICKS. Could you imagine growing up with diet staples like dulce de leche and fried chicken or veal cutlets (milanesas) and NOT weigh a thousand pounds? Plus the fact that everyone eats so late here means they’re not even digesting before they go to bed, which certainly doesn’t help in the flub department.

This week, though, I think I discovered the reason why everyone is so thin: it’s because they have to fit on the subway. The subway system here, or subte, is pretty nice. It’s laid out really stupidly– all trains go towards the center of the city and there are only two connecting the city lengthwise– but it travels really quickly and the trains come fairly frequently. The subte during rush hour, though, is NOT somewhere you want to be. The subte during rush hour is the time where anything goes. People push their ways into the cars, mindless of the fact that there is no space left for them. I’ve had people’s elbows in my sides, my arms have been in people’s armpits, and I’ve been wrapped around metal poles. There are so many people in these cars that when the train goes around turns or stops short we all move as a mass, like a gigantic living Jell-o mold. Yesterday morning I was actually IN some old guy’s pot belly. It was like we were grinding in a sardine can but about a million times more uncomfortable.

I love the subte, I really do. Except for the one problem trip I’ve had with it– this past week I got stuck in a subte train stranded between two stops, but that is perhaps a story for another time– it’s been a good travelling companion and it’s cheaper than the buses. But having to deal with the cramming and the pushing during rush hour is less-than-savory, for sure. I honestly couldn’t ever imagining something like this happening in the US. We like our personal space way too much. Plus– and I know this isn’t an accurate representation of my country but it’s still what I think of– the thought of cramming elephants into a subte car during rush hour is both hilarious and horribly inefficient.

As crazy as it is, I’m going to stick with the subte. We’ve become pretty good buddies and it wouldn’t do to abandon it for a few obnoxious people that decide to ride it sometimes.