Thursday, August 31, 2006
The Forbidden Dance...
…Oh wait, that’s the lambada; it’s so easy to get these sultry Latin American dance moves confused. I’m talking about the tango, which borders on a national obsession here in Argentina. I really had no idea what this phenomenon was all about until last night, when I was invited by Jack the Brit and Andy the Canuck for a tango lesson and demonstration held at – of all places – the Armenian Cultural Center. Apparently it’s the place to be in Palermo on a Wednesday night, as over 200 tango neophytes cram into the basement restaurant/bar area for a crash course. After fumbling my way through the instructions in Spanish, I found myself paired up with a cute little Porteño named Sol, who thankfully spoke English and was very patient with me…at first. However, after stepping on her toes a few too many times, I apologized profusely and suggested she find a different partner. Eventually, my two left feet became too much of a burden for her and we parted ways.
When a new, more complex dance step was introduced, I elected to sit on the sidelines and just observe the action, taking notes for my next tango lesson, which will occur tomorrow evening at a different locale. One of the perks of being an International Bureau of Language student…
While I caught a glimpse of Argentine culture, Buenos Aires is about to get a heavy dose of mine as this week marks the opening of the city’s first Hooters restaurant!!! While cruising through the Puerto Madero area Tuesday, I noticed a bunch of balloons, and then the famously-tacky owl logo. I approached the building with pride and an eagerness to see what an Argentine Hooters’ girl looked like, only to be greeted by an enthusiastic manager-type person telling me “manaña!” Puerto Madero was my post-class excursion Tuesday, which in the proud tradition of Fisherman’s Wharf and Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, is a once-derelict waterfront area revitalized by soulless American chain establishments. If you don’t get your fill of chicken wings at Hooters, simply walk 100 meters down the dock to TGI Friday’s where they’re bound to have a knock-down appetizer platter.
After class yesterday I took the subte to the famous Recoleta Cemetery, the final resting place for the country’s richest and/or most distinguished citizens. The coffins are housed in extremely elaborate mausoleums, some the size of small, multi-level houses! There were a few too many tourists for the place to feel eerie, and the most disturbing aspect was the gang of feral cats that roam the grounds and give you menacing glares.
As for my Spanish course itself, there is so much new information presented each session that I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. Julia the German and me are clearly the laggards, since both Celine the Parisian and Valeria the Brazilian are already fluent in one of the Romance languages. Thus far I’ve alternated good and bad days – Monday was getting acclimated to the teaching style, Tuesday gave me confidence, Wednesday was a huge step back and I think my brain ceased functioning completely by the last hour, and today felt more manageable. Among the areas we’ve covered so far are how to give directions, how to describe the weather, identifying clothing and parts of the body, when to use “hay” and “estar” and much, much more. One thing throwing me off a bit is the different pronunciations Argentines use from the rest of the Spanish-speaking world. For example, instead of saying “calle” here it’s “ca-she”. I have to stop and correct myself repeatedly, but thankfully people understand you either way. It’s not like I have any chance of assimilating over the next three weeks here, but I can try.
Proving that I’m an outsider, I’ll finish this post up with more observations of Buenos Aires culture:
- My new favorite TV show comes on in the late afternoon, when two Muppet-looking creatures of indistinguishable species announce numbers in some sort of lottery/bingo game.
- Speaking of TV, they love “The Simpsons” here, which is all good by me. Reruns dubbed in Spanish are on all the time, there are numerous candy products for sale bearing Homer and Bart on the packaging and even a hot dog stand named Pancheria Barney, with Springfield’s legendary drunk painted on the wall inside.
- Much as I found in Italy, merchants here are incredibly reluctant to make change for purchases. If I buy something for $4.30 and hand them a $5, I get a look of disgust and some mumbled unpleasantries. I’ve learned to guard coins with my life and only part with them when absolutely necessary.
- Swimming laps here is an ordeal. Today I bought a day pass at a gym, and needed a quick medical exam by their on-staff nurse, then rent flip-flops and a cap, then dip my feet in some sort of antiseptic solution, then hang my towel in a designated area before finally being allowed in the pool. I think walking will have to suffice as my only form of exercise here…
- There are many dipping sauces I must try here before my departure if I am to live up to my title as The Condiment King. Most intriguing is one called “salsa golf”, which I have yet to experiment with. Looks 1,000 Island-ish in color and consistency.
- A lot of males in this city have a long, horse-like facial structure, and the faux-hawk hairstyle is extremely popular.
When a new, more complex dance step was introduced, I elected to sit on the sidelines and just observe the action, taking notes for my next tango lesson, which will occur tomorrow evening at a different locale. One of the perks of being an International Bureau of Language student…
While I caught a glimpse of Argentine culture, Buenos Aires is about to get a heavy dose of mine as this week marks the opening of the city’s first Hooters restaurant!!! While cruising through the Puerto Madero area Tuesday, I noticed a bunch of balloons, and then the famously-tacky owl logo. I approached the building with pride and an eagerness to see what an Argentine Hooters’ girl looked like, only to be greeted by an enthusiastic manager-type person telling me “manaña!” Puerto Madero was my post-class excursion Tuesday, which in the proud tradition of Fisherman’s Wharf and Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, is a once-derelict waterfront area revitalized by soulless American chain establishments. If you don’t get your fill of chicken wings at Hooters, simply walk 100 meters down the dock to TGI Friday’s where they’re bound to have a knock-down appetizer platter.
After class yesterday I took the subte to the famous Recoleta Cemetery, the final resting place for the country’s richest and/or most distinguished citizens. The coffins are housed in extremely elaborate mausoleums, some the size of small, multi-level houses! There were a few too many tourists for the place to feel eerie, and the most disturbing aspect was the gang of feral cats that roam the grounds and give you menacing glares.
As for my Spanish course itself, there is so much new information presented each session that I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. Julia the German and me are clearly the laggards, since both Celine the Parisian and Valeria the Brazilian are already fluent in one of the Romance languages. Thus far I’ve alternated good and bad days – Monday was getting acclimated to the teaching style, Tuesday gave me confidence, Wednesday was a huge step back and I think my brain ceased functioning completely by the last hour, and today felt more manageable. Among the areas we’ve covered so far are how to give directions, how to describe the weather, identifying clothing and parts of the body, when to use “hay” and “estar” and much, much more. One thing throwing me off a bit is the different pronunciations Argentines use from the rest of the Spanish-speaking world. For example, instead of saying “calle” here it’s “ca-she”. I have to stop and correct myself repeatedly, but thankfully people understand you either way. It’s not like I have any chance of assimilating over the next three weeks here, but I can try.
Proving that I’m an outsider, I’ll finish this post up with more observations of Buenos Aires culture:
- My new favorite TV show comes on in the late afternoon, when two Muppet-looking creatures of indistinguishable species announce numbers in some sort of lottery/bingo game.
- Speaking of TV, they love “The Simpsons” here, which is all good by me. Reruns dubbed in Spanish are on all the time, there are numerous candy products for sale bearing Homer and Bart on the packaging and even a hot dog stand named Pancheria Barney, with Springfield’s legendary drunk painted on the wall inside.
- Much as I found in Italy, merchants here are incredibly reluctant to make change for purchases. If I buy something for $4.30 and hand them a $5, I get a look of disgust and some mumbled unpleasantries. I’ve learned to guard coins with my life and only part with them when absolutely necessary.
- Swimming laps here is an ordeal. Today I bought a day pass at a gym, and needed a quick medical exam by their on-staff nurse, then rent flip-flops and a cap, then dip my feet in some sort of antiseptic solution, then hang my towel in a designated area before finally being allowed in the pool. I think walking will have to suffice as my only form of exercise here…
- There are many dipping sauces I must try here before my departure if I am to live up to my title as The Condiment King. Most intriguing is one called “salsa golf”, which I have yet to experiment with. Looks 1,000 Island-ish in color and consistency.
- A lot of males in this city have a long, horse-like facial structure, and the faux-hawk hairstyle is extremely popular.
# posted by BenBlogsFromBA @ 5:28 PM 
Comments:
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Do they have foam parties? You should go to one. Also, how is the food? Is it anything like Mexican food or not? I'm really curious.
I think you should go back to Hooters, as you said, to see what the chicks look like. Then bounce.
I dig that you're experiencing all this stuff, except I think you should watch the Simpsons as much as possible in Spanish, maybe an episode you know will come on and you could learn Spanish!!
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I think you should go back to Hooters, as you said, to see what the chicks look like. Then bounce.
I dig that you're experiencing all this stuff, except I think you should watch the Simpsons as much as possible in Spanish, maybe an episode you know will come on and you could learn Spanish!!
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