“Maybe mistakes are what make our fate... without them what would shape our lives? Maybe if we had never veered off course we wouldn't fall in love, have babies, or be who we are. After all, things change, so do cities, people come into your life and they go. But it's comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart... and if you're very lucky, a plane ride away” 

-Carrie Bradshaw. Sex and the City. 

The thing about a city is, you are never quite sure where  you will end up. Plan it out, get a map, google it to your hearts content, but the streets have a bigger say than you do in your destination. This past week has been a week of failed plans. A circus we missed, a bar we never found, a museum that was closed. The beauty in mistakes, is what you find when you should have taken a right. 

As one prone to mistakes, misinformation, and a lot of left turns, I'm learning that in the city, it's important to understand that whether you reach your destination, or just wander around a Jewish synagogue (these things happen), the pieces of adventure we share, make the mis-adventures worthwhile.

This week, I turned 21. A monumental number to many. Spending a birthday not only away from home, but away from those people who make birthdays special for me, was difficult. All the things I would be doing in Moscow and Spokane, here, seemed unimportant. My left hand turn had taken me to Argentina and I would have to walk into my twenty first birthday surrounded by those I had known only a short while. The beautiful thing about people, is how we are wired to slip into each others lives, seamlessly filling the holes and the gaps the heart has created. The distance from my family was still there, my best friends still absent, but there was no doubt that we had, amongst ourselves, formed a family of our own. Perhaps it's a want of experiences, or perhaps it is out of necessity that friendships like these form, creating a blanket of protection from loneliness in a city of this size.

Maybe Carrie is right. Maybe mistakes do make our fate. In a jungle the size of Buenos Aires, a day without mistakes does not exist. and all those left hand turns? I think eventually they'll take you in the right direction. Following the map, can only get you so far, after that, you have to trust that what has slipped into your life, will lead you to the right road. And sometimes, wandering the streets with no destination at all, is the best way to find what you're really looking for.

As always,
Besos,
Hil

Sometimes we study

As fascinating as my journeys no doubt are, there are many things about my life that are far less exciting. I would love to name my trip, "The Ultimate Vacation" or "Hostel to Hostel" (remind me to keep that one in mind for a book title.) Nevertheless,  I moved to Argentina under the title, "Study Abroad", and so, It is with duty I will entrust you with the little discussed aspect of being a student in the city.

I attend the University of Belgrano. Attending a college in the heart of one of the wealthiest (read: safest) neighborhood of the city may seem concheto, but tell a local you're a foreigner, and they can almost guess that you attend UB. Why? UB is a school based on international students, and their funding. This is not to say it is not a good experience, but come here expecting to be a novelty with your foreign identity, and you will be sorely disappointed. Most of the local students, attend school as a secondary supplement to working. It is not a full time job for them, and while getting out of class at 10:00 pm may seem odd to those of us used to having our evenings free, it is not uncommon for these students to leave the classroom much later.

My day at the University begins at 1:00 p.m. each day, but with the late mornings comes the complimentary late nights, my sleep schedule has simply shifted six hours or so. The classes here are an hour and a half long, but since they're only twice a week, it doesn't seem to drag. There are few books to buy however the University has taken to printing oversized stacks of scholarly articles as dictated by the professors and we are required to buy a, for lack of a better word, bundle of said copies. Therefore, much of our time is spent lugging around a plastic bound 'book' of excerpts by Sarmiento and Amerigo Vespuci.

Unlike Universities in the U.S. There is no campus. The students live either at home or in apartments, though the former is most common, and rarely 'go away' to school. Their degree, as I mentioned before, is often secondary to their life.

As for us visiting students, we are given our own few floors (more to keep the sanity of the locals I'm sure) and the halls of los pisos 9 and 10 are filled with conversations in French, Italian, Spanish, English and Portuguese.

The coursework is relatively the same, for me at least. There are many required readings, and discussions on specific texts, group presentations, and oral and written assignments.  The interesting thing about the classes, are the professors themselves. Some are PhD's from Princeton, and others are simply foreign language teachers. Their stories, observations and insight on the culture, history, language, and lifestyle of Argentines is the closest and most in depth insight I can hope to have on the people here, and I'm eating it up.

I'm studying Gender History in Latin America, Cultures and Civilizations in Latin America, Argentine Economy and Spanish Grammar and Speaking. It sounds like a handful but it is relatively manageable. Midterms will be here before we know it. I'd better get a move on. I leave you with a few (stolen) photos. For Flickr credit click here here and here)

This is the main building of UB and the only building most International students ever enter. 19 floors.

Most Classrooms are half this size, but this one is the largest. 

The view from the 10th floor. That big white house? That used to be Albert Einstein's house. It now serves as the Australian Embassy. 

As always
Besos,
Hil