Gee this is hard...

Well, I've traveled on several continents and studied for a year in Ecuador but have I really lived anywhere but the US before? I'm realizing that the answer to that question is no and that it's a whole hell of a lot harder to live and work by yourself in a foreign country than it is to visit one...

It's a rollercoaster of ups and downs. In the morning, your in love with the experience of making it in a foreign country. Then a couple of hours later you find yourself wondering why the hell you left your friends and family so many thousands of miles away and really, I mean really, why are you here? Then something happens and you are back on cloud nine. Don't try to fight it; just accept it. This is the way it is.

The other day I was having a chat with an English fellow. Our conclusion was that you can feel comfortable in a foreign country, learn the language and customs, etc. but you will never truly assimilate. Look to Chinatown, or communities latinos, italians, pakistanis, etc. embedded in foreign countries around the world. There is a tendency to look at these people as somehow not willing to become a part of the country they visit. How many of those who chastise latinos for not 'becoming Americans' have ever walked in their shoes.

Yes I speak Spanish. Yes I drink Mate. Yes I'm familiar with the history and culture of South America. Yes I'm fairly well disgusted with so many aspects of America and american culture. But in the end I will never escape the fact that I am American and I shouldn't be ashamed of that...

Well I guess this actually turned into something more of a rant than an entry... Tommorrow I will put some photos of Cordoba up... Why? Just because...

Weeks and months have passed in my absence. Lying awake at night, my mind races struggling to parse tht which is real from the creations of a poor memory and a strong imagination. My mind is a flood of interminable bus rides, blurry faces, and mountains through a fog of smoke and fernet...

I am somehow back in Cordoba where I started. In the mean either I or the city or both have changed. Now we shake hands and greet timidly as strangers do. The students are back and and it is now raining in the city that once seemed my model of the steamy Latin American metropolis. What was before a hotbed of students is now an explosion of youth. Without even trying I find myself involved in music, dance, and sports...

Please excuse the delay in writing. As I may have mentioned previously, in Argentina blog entries must be carried out over the Andes to Chile in mule caravans before being loaded onto great container ships in Santiago bound for California and Vancouver. It is quite common that these become trapped in high mountain passes in early season storms or find themselves attacked by bandidos.

Well, after everyone else went home, I wandered for a while without a real direction taking each day slowly and as it came. It was a time of high highs, low lows, new friends, self-discovery, and sado-masochism. Ha ha. Just kidding about the self-discovery part... As I wound my way around the bottom of the country I wondered what was I really doing here. Moving from place to place wasn't really what I wanted anymore. But the thought of going home was almost too scary to contemplate. So after a quick trip up through wine country (I wasn't really going to miss that) I found myself back in Cordoba looking for a job.

Flash forward a bit and I am starting my second week at a publicity agency supposedly helping with the coordination between a new office opening in California and here. So far my duties have included checking my email obsessively, checking ESPN.com, drinking mate, chatting amiably in spanish, and wondering if I will ever attain oneness with the starry dynamo of the night. In a word not much. It could go either way--good or bad.

I have a cell phone here and a gym membership so I think I might not be a tourist anymore. If anyone would like to call the number +001 0351 15 306-7687 although, as you know, there is a strong possibility I will pretend to me a 40-year-old named Guillermo who doesn't speak English. Nevermind, Guillermo is pleasant in his own way and you may find that despite the language barrier it is preferable to a slightly distant, moody, american (i.e. me).

Ok, my lovely friends (is anyone reading this?) I hope you are all well and enjoying your own adventures in this strange world of shapes and shadows and glimpses of light through the ether...

Love, E.

P.S. I've been a little busy so I'd like to quickly respond to a few emails now. Adam, good luck with that rash. Do you really think it might syphillus again? Ariel, I wish you the best beating that child prostitution charge! I mean, it's not like you smuggled chinese children across the border to sell as sex slaves in Korea all for a quick buck? Oh wait. That is what you did! Good luck anyway.

All Tomorrow's Parties

Well, I'm quite certain noone is checking this given the fact I am malo when it comes to updating, bit I will write maybe merely for my own sake to make sense of where I'm at...

Where I'm at is a Tandil, a small city of 100,000 in an important dairy producing region. To get here you cross hours and hours of fields of soy and cow. After 5 hours in bus I squint my eyes wanting so much for it to feel exotic and different, but really it might as well be Kansas. Then out of nowhere these small rocky mountains (hills really by Oregon standards) rising out of the plains and a pleasant little town by a lake. I came here as a night layover and yet the little albergue I found was so nice that each day I plan to leave and each night I find I'm still here.

I've made friends and try to keep pace with a race of people engineered to run on meat, white flour, mate, and really almost no sleep. At 2 in the morning I sneak off to bed hoping noone will catch me and compell me to drink more cuba libre or eat another charred hunk of animal flesh and in the morning they are up before me and more cheerfully as well.

I'm not sure what I'm doing here. People ask and I say paseando but if I'm really being honest it's no estoy seguro. Zoe, Lois Ann, and Katie have all gone home and I find I have little desire to do the backpacking from hostel to hostel thing nor has work materialized nor am I really sure that Argentina is my place. I think I've known for a while that it's the northwest. For now, Tandil really isn't such a bad place to ponder these things; it's essentially unknown to foreigners and I am forced practice my rusty and much deteriorated Spanish.

Today will be a day dedicated to bike riding and futbol and homemade hamburgers on the grill at night. I hope everyone is well. Un abrazo fuerte para todos y que esten sanos y cuerdos...

Argentina ¡Sí!

So many litle things to like about Argentina...

Technically there are pesos and cents but I have yet to see an actual one cent piece. Instead if the change is a matter of a few cents a shopkeeper will often give you a mint or a piece of candy...

Or my favorite: in the rest of the spanish speaking countries I´ve visited 'de nada' is 'your welcome'. Here the game is protest that there really is no reason for you to thank them. Thank someone and they will respond with 'why?' or 'how could I not?' The other day I thanked some for holding the door for me and he replied 'Oh no, on the contrary.'

So after a few days with the family in Cordoba, I met up with Zoe and we travelled south to a couple very cute old German towns. One was footpath only and nestled in the mountains surrounded by beautiful waterfalls and footpaths. Very touristy but almost entirely argentine tourists so it´s ok. We strolled the streets of what seemed a little German fairy village and listened to Spanish all around. Surreal... In the other town we spent the night at an amazing hostel and biodynamic farm. Truly amazing and with real food too! Argentine food is pretty deficient in terms of nutrients and can quickly suck your energy after a few weeks. You have no idea how good oatmeal, whole wheat bread, and yogurt tastes after a few weeks here.

Now I am again with Grandmother and Katie in the mountains north of Cordoba. This morning we woke early to for a 6-hour hike to the top of Capilla del Monte. Beautiful! The sun was intense. If you know how I am, I´m sure you can imagine me putting on sunblock every couple minutes...

Well ok, I'm missing you all! Un abrazo fuerte y cuidense!

Sigo

Dear readers,
If you have previously read this blog you know it is a trite juxtaposition of cliched observations and ineptly taken photos. Unfortunately, in this moment I don´t have access to a camera so for the time being words will have to suffice; I will try include blurry, poorly lighted photos soon so check back.

My few days in Argentina already feel like months. Partly this is because I have hardly slept due to bus rides, plane rides, jet-lag, and nights out. I am in Cordoba which feels a lot like the Lord of Flies. It is choked full of beautiful young people who run frantically in all directions without regard for day or night. There is a bit of excitement upon seeing an older person. Who are they? Why are they in Cordoba? The city itself is beautiful and accesible and I really wonder if I might not just stay here and someday raise 1.7 argentian kids with argentinian equivalent to a white picket fence. Right now I´m just so amazed and inspired by this country which is so different than anywhere I have been previously.

Zoe and I parted ways in Buenos Aires and I have to shoulder most of the blame for this. But I think it is working out the best for the both of us since it is allowing us to have the experiences we needed to have when we came here. Cést la vie...