Casual Observations in Córdoba

This week I thought I’d just list some of my observations. These tend to depict some of the differences of living here versus in the Twin Cities. To start off, I’ve included a picture I haven’t even seen myself. It was taken by my roommate, Isabela, as she was coming home last night in the rain. How many times have you seen a garage door open as if an alligator was going to come out and eat you alive, and then you drive into it?

As for the rain, there’s no way for me to really show the extremes in Argentina, you have to live here to really experience them. Just imagine our street turning into a river, barely kept to its course by the curbs. To give you an idea of how much it has rained here this summer, the river that runs through the city has been rising. Even the locals say these frequent rains are not common in the Summer. We’ve all heard people say how fast their local weather changes. I’ve never seen weather change so fast. When I came home from class last night around 7:30, it was sunny. Within an hour, the skies darkened, the wind pick up, and sheets of water were pelting our house. Some of my classmates came home drenched, or “souped” as the Argentineans would say. (The French say “sauced”.) Luckily, the husband on one of the employee’s here arrived on his motorcycle just as it was beginning to rain. Instead of picking up his wife, he maneuvered the motorcycle through our gate for cover before the real torrents of water blew in. Within half an hour, the sun was out again.

Here’s my list of oddities:
• Bags of trash hung from trees, in “high-rise cradles”, on the sidewalk, wherever. Trash pick-up is nightly so people put their trash out any time, even just before it storms. Though there are trash containers throughout the city, people routinely throw small odds and ends on the sidewalk. And as there are many smokers here, cigarette butts are everywhere.
• Two-wheel trailers pulled by horses, bicycles or people. These are the only horses allowed in the city. Horses are against city ordinance, but because they are crucial to the recycling program in Córdoba, officials look the other way. The enterprising, though less-than-fortunate people go through the trash to pull out cardboard, plastic, glass, and other recyclable items. There is some sorting by residents and companies to make this process a bit easier.
• Square pull-apart biscuits. We had these at our summer camp, and I’ve seen these in the kiosks and bakeries. At the summer camp, it seemed they were either stored in, or purchased in bags that looked like dry dog food bags, but even bigger. Wonder what they’re made of? They didn’t taste like dog food.
• As for dogs, lots of them. More dogs than cats. Lots of vets too, but they must not de-sex the dogs here, as in many other countries. Dogs don’t pester people, they lie down anywhere, even in the middle of busy sidewalks, but once we get their attention, do seem to want affection and may jump up on you. Otherwise, they mind their own business.
• Blue lights. These actually represent security in neighborhood. A car with a flashing blue light drives around, shining a light into the houses, sometimes stopping for more careful observation. I was home alone one night when the security car stopped in front of our house for about 10 minutes. It was beginning to scare me, making me feel like a criminal. What would I say if he came to the door? I’d already thought to call the manager of the local organization I’m here with. This reminds me, a bit later torrents of rain and wind descended yet again making me glad the manager had dissuaded me from going to Cosquin for a rock festival with the other housemates. When I came back from horseback riding the following day their wet clothes, sleeping bags, etc. were everywhere. I was glad I’d slept in a nice dry bed that night, rather than a cold wet tent.
• Green remis and taxis. Remis must be called, and charge a little more. I haven’t seen that they’re any cleaner or any other difference.
• Different tiled sidewalks. Property ownership must extend to the sidewalks because the surface changes by house or storefront. There’s all kinds of tile, from large to small, smooth (treacherous in the rain) to lined, to those with circles like the grey rubber tiles that were used for a while in the states. Jack Nicholson would have gone crazy here (his character from the movie with
• Shuttered storefronts. Shops outside city center close down during afternoon making parts of the city look very desolate. It must be siesta time. Many churches and some museums also close in the afternoon. Restaurants stay open longer, but then close until 8:00 or 9:00 at night. Bars are open most of the day. This is a college town after all.
• Casual dress. I’ve seen a few suits and ties, one woman with pantyhose on, but for the most part, dress seems casual. Maybe that’s because it’s so hot here in the summer. I see lots of jeans though don’t know how anyone stands it. Shorts are “modern” and are rarely seen on women in the city center. There are all kinds of pants that go just below the knee, some hugging the leg, others with ties, and others loose. I’ve opened the zippers on safari type pants at the “shorts” line as well as the boots zipper to just barely survive the heat here, but for the most part, I’ve worn skorts.

I’m going to see if I can rouse the rest of the bunch for our trip to the Sierras. If we don’t head out shortly, I guess I’ll see our tango instructor dance in Plaza San Martín instead.

Week 4: Established Routine in Córdoba

Yes, I've finally gotten into somewhat of a routine here in Córdoba. No matter what time I go to bed, I manage to get up by around 8:00, study Spanish, have lunch, go to school, work on my volunteer project and then play the waiting game for dinner. Dinner can be anywhere from 9:30 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. I'm adjusting to that very slowly. Tuesday and Thursday nights we have tango lessons at the house. We're learning the steps, but not at the pace of the music. It's fun anyway. The instructor is so nice, gracious, patient and one of the tiniest men I've seen. I want to see him perform before I leave.

For those of you who think my traveling sounds exciting, here are some realities, though I know I won't get any sympathy when I say it was so hot last night that I couldn't sleep. I was thankful that the plug in my room did get fixed so at least I had a fan. Then today, as has been the case down here, the weather changes on a dime. It was sunny when I woke up this morning, then by noon, the winds were blowing, a very welcome cooling effect, but as the sky darkened, I knew we were in for it. As I had class at 1 p.m., I knew this time to catch a cab early, or one would not be found and I'd be late to class. This happened on my first day of class, so I at least learned that.

Our house is now full. While I've had a small room to myself up until now, there's a Columbian woman sharing this space. It's the smallest bedroom in the house, and one of the hottest, and will now be hotter. The fan sits on a chair because of the length of the power cord to the plug, by the light switch. So much for thinking I had rights to a room of my own, but at least I did for the first four weeks. Another woman is coming on Sunday, with no place to go. Because everyone else is of a similar age, I may be the one to move to another place. Maybe that one will be cleaner, and have predictable meals provided at an earlier time. Imagine sharing a house with 7 college age students with one and a half baths, and the cleaning person who comes once a week calls in sick.

Last night was the first night the kids went to bed before I did. Part of my routine has been to clear off the table for work purposes each morning. Keep in mind 7 college age kids. Only two people smoke, both of them from Spain. The Argentine coordinator also smokes, and he's from Córdoba, but he's generally only here once a week.

I'm taking private classes at a school, rather than from the tutor who was coming to the house. It's much better, and at least I'm progressing on paper. Speaking is another issue. I can say sentences, but it takes a while to get them out. Enough people speak English at the house that I can communicate, but more often than not, after a few sentences, they lose patience and convert to English. There's a cute Spanish woman who is working on her English, so she has the most patience with me, plus she wants to hear about some of my travels so is very encouraging in my progress.

My volunteer project of writing a marketing plan for a non-profit that provides services to children with disabilities is going well. I'm tutoring a French college student on the marketing plan, while she's doing a lot of translation using both her Spanish and English. She's very bright and is a delight to work with.

Last weekend the kids went to a rock festival so I had the house to myself. I should have taken more advantage of it, but went to Atra Gracia to see the Ernesto (Che) Guevara Museum. The next day I awoke to a beautiful sun after a very stormy night, to go horse back riding in the Sierras and enjoy an Argentinean BBQ. That was nice until it started thundering and lightening. The tour guide ran around finding rocks for us all to hide under. 30 minutes later, the sun was shining. See, I told you the weather changes quickly. I know not to go out without my rain jacket. I came back to find my house mates soaking wet clothes, sleeping bags, and tents hanging out to dry. They got "souped" as the Argentines say. All I had to do was go around and close the windows here.

Tonight I'm headed to Mendoza, the wine capital of Argentina, on a coche-cama bus for the 700 km journey. I'm told that means I will be able to sleep in a bed, but I'm not sure I'll be entirely lying down. The ticket is supposed to include drinks and breakfast. Guess it's time to go pack.

A Weekend in the Sierras

Do you remember your summer camp experiences? They come back quickly when you´re among 700 kids running around, playing games, swimming, singing, building forts and what not, as Minnesotans would say.

I just returned to Cordoba after 4 full days in Punilla at what previously had been an establishment for mental health patients. Now the Argentine Ministry runs summer camp for less than fortunate kids. I was with a assembly of about 50 people with disabilities. One was blind, being led by a boy who was partially blind. One was deaf. An adult couple were handicapped for walking. Most of the others had mental issues, though for some of the kids it was hard to tell how deficient they were. We were assigned to groups, mine being adults by age, but some had minimal language skill. It was only last night, at our farewell gathering, that I heard one woman speak for the first time. Everyone in this group lived in an orphanage, and had for many years. Their caretaker came along and was so, so great with each and everyone in her group and with others. She´s been with most of them since they arrived at the orphanage. She said some couldn´t even take care of themselves when they first arrived. They´ve come a long way since then, though will never live on their own or maintin a job.

The daily routine for summer camps across countries varies little. Up for breakfast, games, sports, lunch, siesta, swimming, afternoon snacks, more games, showers, a long wait for dinner (yes, dinner even at the camp was late, 9:40), then dancing to Argentine or rock music, or maybe a camp wide game, then bedtime about midnight or 1 a.m. That part might be different from camps in the U.S. The long-popular dance here is the quarteto. Any number of people hold hands and move in a circle, generall from left to right. It´s for anyone who wants to move their feet to music with no real pattern other than to twirl the person next to you.

The weather was perfect, and scenery was ¨bonito¨/beautiful, though we didn´t leave the compound to to any hiking. I think ¨"Punilla", which means "bend in the river", was a few kilometers from where we stayed. On the hour-long drive there, I was surprised to see sailboats. The river is damned up, providing a lovely lake which seems to be well used.

My disbility at camp, if you can even call it that, was my limited Spanish. This is in no way a comparison with those who had disabilities, nor is my havng had a cleft palate when I was born. A cleft palate can be repaired surgically, with the only residual being my nasal speech. I can forget about that for the most part. The people we were with can´t forget their disability, if they´re even aware enough to know the difference between themselves and those who don´t have a disability. I was contintually amazed at how the people in the group took care of each other. This was especially try with the blind boy. Some of the younger boys took the initiative to lead him around, help him with various activities/games/in the pool, etc. so that the entire responsibility didn´t rest of his partially blind friend. Boys will be boys, and they also have hearts that are amazing in such situations. The kids were inclusive of each other in the games and at the dances without being prompted to do so. I was truly touched.

Being the only American there did bring some notoriety, but was mainly a disadvantage. Few people spoke even a bit of English. It forced me to use what little Spanish I do know. The kids were good about listening to my broken sentences, trying to figure out what I was saying, speaking slowly in response, and laughing with (and at) me. That was okay. At least they knew I was trying. One high school age girl came up to me one afternoon during siesta time while I was studying and reviewed some of my exercises. She was very helpful, and I hope gave her a sense of accomplishment. She was very sweet and patient with me.

I´ve had all kinds of thoughts and feelings about what life is like for a person with a disability. The serverity is certainly a major factor. There was a mix of people who mentally are as sane and intelligent as you or I, and those who could not utter anything sensibly to anyone. How would I feel if I were in a wheelchair or couldn´t see or hear and was always grouped with others who mainly observed, swayed back and forth and spoke unintelligible sounds, though could understand some of what I said? Is it best to separate those with disabilities from those with no disabilities as the Special Olympics does. Or is integration a better alternative? I´m sure the answer lies inbetween, and is dependent upon the disability. I´ll be processing this for some tme to come as I work on the marketing plan for the non-profit that caters to disabilties.

For now, it´s on to daily life, picking up the laundry and more studying.

¡Adios!