Sunday reflections

I'm changing.  For the better, I think, but I'm changing.  I am noting more and more qualities about myself that have changed, or grown and it's scary and wonderful all at the same time.

For starters, they are getting less ugly.  And by 'they' I mean platform shoes.  I know.  I can't believe I'm saying this either.  A month ago I looked at platform shoes and laughed.  I looked at the women trying to walk and quietly (well okay sometimes not so quietly) judged them wondered what they found so cool about the shoes.  Every pair that I saw (meaning about every 30 seconds walking down the street), just made me chuckle because I thought they were the ugliest shoes ever.  And yes, I actually took these photos to give you examples. 

Now, however, I feel differently.  I see some pairs that I actually like, I think they look good as part of the outfit, and I even would not mind trying a pair on just to see how comfortable they are (or are not).  Would I ever buy a pair?  Probably not.  But the fact that in such a short period of time my perspective on something that I used to hate so much, has already changed, says a lot about the effects of complete cultural immersion.

Another thing that has changed is that I have become a bit of a night owl.  Prior to coming here, there was nothing I loved more than going to bed at a reasonable hour, waking up on my own at 7:30 or 8am, going for a quick run, and then sitting on my couch with a cup of coffee in hand watching the news.  I sound like an old lady, I know, but seriously, nothing I loved more.  I still love that, and I get excited thinking about going home at Christmastime and being able to do that again.  However, now I also love staying up late and sleeping in.

I can now stay up until 5am and sleep in until 12 o 1pm and I have no problem with it.  In fact, I kind of enjoy mornings spent sleeping in, and then waking up to lunch time and a day in full swing.  It's not so bad.  It's also a sign that I am truly becoming a Cordobesa, seeing that here everyone, even little kids stay up until at least 11pm or midnight regularly.  It is a night life city and it is growing on me.  My avergae bedtime prior to coming was about at 11pm and now its around 1 or 2am.

I'm a cake person.  I've never hated cake, but I've always had a kind of take it or leave it attitude about cake (unless it's chocolate with peanut butter icing...that's a whole different story).  But here, I love cake.  Maybe it's that the cake here is always 100% homemade, or that it usually includes dulce de leche, or that it is always accompanied by the best cup of coffee, or that it is truly made with love.  I have no idea what it is, but I am a cake person and also now a believer that life is too short to not eat the cake. A piece of cake a day keeps the doctor a way?  Is that how it goes?  Regardless, it's good for the soul.

While on the topic of food, prior to coming here, I thought I was going to suffer with the meal times here, but I have actually grown to love them.  They make sense.  Every morning when we wake up we have toasted bread or criollos or medialunas (or whatever else mi abuela buys from the panaderia) with mermelada (jam) or dulce de leche.  We don't eat a ton; two or three little slices and that's usually it, accompanied by a cup of coffee, and the day starts out sweet, light, and delicious.  At around 1:30 or 2pm we have our big meal of the day.  What it consists of depends on the day, but usually meat, veggies, and potatoes...and bread.  Mi abuela eats every single meal with a fork in one hand and bread in the other.  I am not kidding.  I don't know what it is about the people here, but they love, and I mean LOVE their bread.  Around 4 or 5pm, we have what is called a merienda (snack) which consists of tea or coffee with crackers.  It's just a little something to hold us over until dinner.  Then around 9pm (this is actually an early time) we eat dinner, which is similar to lunch, but lighter, as no one likes to eat a lot right before bed time.  I am learning to love and appreciate these times, and my stomach has adjusted accordingly.  I rarely ever feel super hungry, and I kind of like going to be with a happy, satisfied stomach.   

Everything here is slow.  Not in a bad way, though, as I have come to appreciate the slowness of this culture.  Eating a meal takes at least an hour and a half, if not more.  In fact, mi abuela makes me get up early enough to have a half an hour to "desayunar bien" (eat breakfast well) with her.  So every morning, I happily oblige, and spend a half an hour slowly consuming my little pieces of bread and coffee as we watch the news together and chat.  Also, going anywhere does not happen fast.  For example, my friend lives about 5 minutes away...in a car that is.  Since I can't walk there because it's too dangerous, I take the bus.  It takes me 10 minutes to walk to the bus stop, 20 minutes on the bus (since it's not a direct route to her apartment), and then when I get off the bus, another 5 minute walk to her house.  It takes time.  Time makes it so much more intentional.  Here, if you want to see you friends, you are going to have to make time to do so, and it will probably be the best thing ever.  "Running errands" doesn't exist.....or it does, but it's going to be at a much slower pace than a run, and it will probably take all day because the bus will come late and you will stop and have mate with five different people.  Also, the people here don't look at it as "running errands" with the negative connotation that those two words together seem to have, but rather they enjoy going out and taking care of things and going shopping just because it's a part of their lives.  There are a thousand other examples, but to sum it up, everyone here lives their life in a way in which whatever they are doing can easily be put to the side at any time to talk with a friend or help someone out.    

I have become more confident, yet careful.  I don't know if this is due to the robbery or what, but I feel that while I've definitely become more careful, I have also become more confident in my ability to not look like a target while walking down the street.  I have become a master at hiding my purse.  I tuck it under my shirt, zip my jacket up over it, or just don't bring it.  I also always, always, always have $100 pesos in my bra.  That way I know that if I get robbed again, I at least have enough money to take a taxi home.  I usually hold my keys too...partly in case I need to use them as a weapon and partly because I would feel so scared if someone robbed me again, but this time also had the keys to my house.  I've also become such a city person.  In fact, now that I think about it, I can't remember the last time I saw a wide open space (that doesn't include the park here).  I am learning to love the city.  Prior to coming, I didn't really think about the fact that I would be living in the city, walking everywhere, relying on public transportation, falling asleep to the sounds of people, cars, and motorcycles.  I just really did not think about it, but that's the reality here and I'm loving it.
  
Another change- I am NOT a germ-a-phobe, because you can't be one here.  I never really was a germ-a-phobe, but even more so since coming here I've become more lax about the idea of germs.  We all share the same mate and drink out of the same straw.  We all touch the railings and bells in the buses and sit in the same back seats of the taxis.  We all drink from the same cups and at times eat from the same silverware.  In fact, mi abuela usually eats off of and/or licks her knife and fork and then uses them to cut a piece of bread for me.  At first I thought it was a little odd, but now it's just life.  She wanted to lick the fork, I wanted a piece of bread...why dirty more silverware? We also all pet the same street dogs (even if you don't try to...some really like to snuggle), and inevitably walk in the piles of surprises the leave strewn about the city.  And best of all, we all kiss the same cheeks, because we all kiss EVERYONE that we are in contact with.  Personal bubbles and strict hygiene  policies don't really exist here, and I can't say I mind.

All in all, I'm changing.  I think it's for the better, because I am adapting and falling more in love everyday.  I keep thinking I can't love it more, and then it happens, I love it more, and the cycle continues.  Whether it's mi abuela's adorable fashion advice, mi mama's ability to make a delicious cake, the slow pace of life here, the people, the kisses, the love, the culture, I just can't get enough of it, and it is definitely making it's mark on me.    

      

Laughter, love, and cake

The past few days have been absolutely great.  I feel at home here.  I feel like I have a family here, and I just love it.

This past weekend was busy, but super fun.  I volunteered at a school in an impoverished area of the city.  They were having a celebration for el dia del nino (AKA children's day; here they celebrate children's day along with mother's day, father's day, women's day, etc.), and my speaking partner and a few other students and I went to volunteer.  It was super fun getting to know the kids, see where they live, and play with them.  Also for this future social worker it was interesting to learn about the poverty here and see an impoverished area...heartbreaking, but good to experience.

That night I went with my speaking partner to the birthday party of a friend of a friend of her friend.  It's normal here to celebrate your birthday with people you don't even know; although everyone is treated like family.  And below is finally a picture of my speaking partner and I...meet Florencia!

On Sunday, we celebrated the birthday party of the sister of mi mama. Friends came over and we celebrated and ate so much meat and veggies and cake.  Listen, mi abuela made a GINORMOUS cake for the birthday party and there is still cake left.  I have never wanted a cake to disappear before in my life, but I seriously want this cake to disappear.  Don't get me wrong, it's good, but it's just a lot of a cake.  Anyways, we spent all of Sunday afternoon talking, laughing, watching movies, and of course eating, and it was great.

Sunday night I WENT TO CHURCH!!!!  My friend Megan met someone who goes to a church called Centro Crecer and she went a few weeks ago to their youth group and loved it.  She said she wanted to go to the actual service and invited me to go with her.  I went, and I am so glad I did. 

About five minutes after walking in, the pastor himself came up and introduced himself to us.  After hearing we were from the US and here in Cordoba to study, he immediately introduced us to his wife and they gave Megan and I their cell phone numbers and home phone number.  They made us feel at home.  And, as it turns out, they are both from the US as well!  The pastor's parents were missionaires in Argentina, so he grew up in both countries, and his wife is from Kansas.  They were so loving, so kind, and told us they could be our "padres" (parents) here in Argentina.  My goodness, I loved this church before the service even began!  I didn't htink it could get any better, but it did!

The service was absolutely wonderful, the music gave me chills, the message was powerful, and I understood everything.  After the service numerous people came and introduced themselves to us.  These people are the church.  They truly are the hands and feet of Jesus and they are embracing their callings to do His work.  It was refreshing to see a church so open and ready to love whoever walked through the front door, and even more comforting to know that I now have a church to call home here.  I'll be going back this Sunday.

On Monday, I just had the best day ever.  After class I came right home and skyped with Lauren and Meg (FINALLY) and it was so great to talk to them and see them.  I went to introduce them (via skype) to mi abuela (because she had said she wanted to meet my friends and family), but I didn't realize that she had her curlers in her hair.  Therefore, when I abruptly turned the computer in her direction, she screamed and threw her hands on her head and began saying a bunch of stuff about how she was not in the proper state for others to see her.  I lost it and she did too and mi mama walked in the room and lost it as well.  So there the three of us were, literally crying because we were laughing so hard, and Lauren and Meg waiting on skype confused. 

We are still laughing about this.  Mi abuela's reaction was just priceless.  It was also just a moment of feeling like I have a family here.  A family to laugh so hard with that I cry.  A family to support me and love me.  A family to introduce to my US family and friends.  There is just so much love and laughter here and I couldn't ask for anything more.

And to top of a great week, it's officially the weekend for me!  Yep, that's right, my weekend is starting today on Wednesday...because there is a national Paro (strike) tomorrow so everything is stopping.  There are going to be riots and protests in the city and nothing will be up and running, so obviously classes have already been cancelled.  Oh Argentina, how I don't understand you at all, but love you dearly.
  

Do you miss home?

If I had a dollar for every time someone asks me if I miss home, I think I might honestly be a millionaire, or at least pretty darn close.

Do you miss home?
It's a natural question to ask someone who is in a foreign country and has no choice but to stay for almost a full six months, so I understand the reasoning behind asking it.  What I don't understand is my inability to answer it without confusing myself and the person who asked the question.  Prior to coming here, whenever someone asked me what I was afraid of, I always said that I was afraid of what would change at home while I was gone.  What would I come home to?  Would relationships be the same, different?  Would I struggle missing out on so much?  While away would I be able to be present, just not physically?  Therefore, the whole 'do you miss home?' question perplexes me all the time.

Do I miss home?
The actual home, yes lots.  The natural feeling of safety, the people, the comfort, our new couch (even if my neck almost breaks to watch tv), our porch, big backyard, close proximity to a farm and  a city, but usually quiet.  I miss all that.

I miss the people like you wouldn't believe.  My mom and dad.  My goodness, do I miss them.  For the past 20 years I have taken for-granted how great they are, and so this time without them is hard.  But it's not completely bad, because I'm being forced to be independent, to work through problems and feelings alone and try my best to do what I think they would tell me to do.  Regardless, this experience is giving me a new appreciation for them as parents and people, and for the constant support they offer me...even if they don't always agree with all of my ideas ;)

My sisters.  I miss them all so much.  Meghan is rockin' it as a mommy, a follower of Christ, and the best teacher ever, and I can't wait to go to school at her house some day!  Caity is doing her thing with her super cool top secret job being smarter than I will ever be.  Abby is making me one proud sister as she is finding her way and making her presence known on the other side of the country, while having a long distance relationship with my future brother-in-law (let's be real, it's gonna happen).  And Alexis...Alexis is moving into her dorm tomorrow and I am so excited for her and all that she is going to experience and learn in this next stage of life.  She is beautiful, bright, and so ready to learn and grow, and I so wish I could see it.

My friends.  I miss them a ton.  Every time I skype Lauren I feel like I can tackle whatever is ahead.  I remember one time we were skyping and I was venting to her about something and she just gave me the best advice.  I was telling her about a tough decision I had to make and that I thought the uncomfortable decision was the one I should make, but that I was afraid of it because it was uncomfortable.  She simply said, "So did you go to Cordoba to be comfortable or uncomfortable?"  Coming from the person that just may know be best, that was exactly what I needed to hear, exactly when I needed to hear it.  Some things never change.

There are a thousand other people I miss- my grandma, all my family, my nieces (they are growing up too fast), my brothers-in-law, my second set of parents (AKA- Jane and Larry), all of my friends, the field hockey team, the Eastern community, I could go on forever.  The point is that yes, of course I miss home.  Who in this situation would not miss home?  But I also don't feel sad about it.  I don't feel like I want to go home, not now.  I think I will be ready in December, or at least closer to being ready, but now, no.  I am here and I love it here.

With all that said, this past week has been busy but good.  My real classes started, so woo-hoo to advanced grammar and Latin American culture!  I actually really do like the classes.  In an odd way I love that my grammar teacher interrupts me kindly every time I make a mistake.  It's tough love, but it's what I need.  And my culture professor is brilliant, so I'm excited about all that I will learn from her.

Last weekend, I went to my speaking partner's apartment and learned how to make noquis (I forget what we call this in the states, but it's pasta made out of potatoes). My goodness, so good, and seemingly simple to make from scratch!  Below is a picture of the noquis before they were put into the boiling water.  Just potatoes, parsley, eggs, and flour mixed together, rolled out, and cut into little pieces.

We also made a homemade sauce to go over them.  Just tomatoes, onions, carrots, meat, sugar, salt, and I forget what else, but don't worry, i have the recipe! :)  Here's the sauce simmering.

And then we ate it all with some super good red wine, and it was marvelous.

I love that I am learning how to make family recipes from my friends here, and how I am truly delving into this culture.  My speaking partner told me that I am starting to talk like a Cordobesa...yayyy!!!  I guess my accent is getting there and I am catching on to more of the slang here.  Sometimes I feel like my Spanish is improving so much and then other times (when someone says something, and I literally do not catch one word) I just wonder if I will ever get to a point of near fluency.  But I think I'm getting there.  I am speaking in Spanish all the time, writing in Spanish, listening to Spanish, watching tv in Spanish, I am even thinking in Spanish now.  When I am skyping someone from home in English, both languages come to mind.  It makes me so excited and I feel like all the hard work may just be paying off! 


    

     

Where my heart’s at

I LOVE it here, absolutely love it, but that doesn’t mean that sometimes my heart is elsewhere, somewhere with those who are nearest and dearest to my heart, somewhere full of smiles, laughter, tears, unconditional love and support, and field hockey sticks, and running, lots and lots of running.

Today, these girls reunite to begin their field hockey season, and although I am so happy here, and do not regret a single decision I’ve made, my heart hurts knowing I won’t be there.  These girls have all had such a strong, positive impact on my life and I am forever indebted to them for that.  They have truly seen me at my worst.  And when I say worst I mean they’ve accompanied me to the ER at midnight on more than one occasion, they’ve helped me shower when I was too weak and injured to do so on my own, they’ve talked me through homework assignments while I’ve just cried, and they’ve been there for me when all truth comes out at 2:00 in the morning.  They have loved me, accepted me, supported me, and truly been my rock when I had nothing else to lean on.

These are the kind of people that some are never lucky enough to meet in their entire lives.  They laugh with you, cry with you, hug you, wait for you, help you, surprise you, encourage you, and lovingly in the name of Jesus kick your butt on the field hockey field.  The best kind of people, I promise. 

With that said, knowing that I won’t be there today to support them and love them hurts, but I will be their biggest fan from oceans away, and I will be praying for them every single day.

Girls, if you are reading, I love you and miss you all so much.  I will miss grueling hard practices with you.  Yes, I will.  I can’t believe I just said that.  I will just miss them because I miss you.  I will miss long bus rides, devotions, prayers, and the way that you all love and are devoted to Jesus.  Someone please be Lauren’s pee partner before games, as I will not be there to continue filling in that role, and I know you don’t want her to get left behind.  And also, someone please wait for Meg after every practice; I know she takes FOREVER, but she will love you for it, and so will I.  And all of you, please kick some butt this season.  I can’t wait to discover (from far away) all that God has planned for you.  You are a rock solid group of girls and I am so very blessed to know each one of you.  Thank you for being my rock.  I miss you and love you.

And mom and dad, since I know you will be at the games, I will really miss not being there to see you as well.  Thank you for continuing to support something that is so close to my heart.  Cheer loud enough for me too!!! 

Injustice from a different perspective

Today I feel sick.  I want to throw up, I want to cry, and I want to ask that police officer what in the world he was thinking. 

I’m sure all of you have heard about, and may even be sick of hearing about what just happened in Ferguson, Missouri.  A police officer shot an unarmed teenage boy while he was on his way to his grandma’s house.  Now I don’t know much about the context of this and I don’t know what the boy did to the police officer to catch his attention, but I do know that someone’s son, someone’s grandson, someone’s brother, someone’s cousin, someone’s nephew, someone’s friend, and everyone’s brother in Christ has now lost his life because of the action the police officer decided to take.  And the boy was UNARMED.

We should be sick of hearing about stories like these, and NOT because we are annoyed by them, but because THEY SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING. 

The following article is a good read, and includes numerous perspectives.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/08/09/ferguson-teen-police-shooting_n_5665305.html

The problem that I have with this is that I believe the color of this boy’s skin was either the reason he was chased, the reason he was shot, or both.  If that were me, or a white male would the outcome have been different?  Sadly, I think yes.  Racial profiling is real and it not only negatively affects the victims, but it negatively affects us all as we see continuous images of African Americans being arrested, shot, dealing drugs, driving drunk, in gangs, ect.  We all have these images engrained in our minds and then the cycle of racial profiling continues.  What we don’t see are the high school graduation photos, college graduation photos, family pictures, etc.  We are fed the negative to keep the stereotype alive.

The following article depicts a twitter trend that began when this boy was killed and brings to the surface the media’s ability to intentionally create a stereotypical image of African Americans. 

http://mashable.com/2014/08/12/iftheygunnedmedown-hashtag/#:eyJzIjoiZiIsImkiOiJfdTZoOGx4NDA2NTh4c29qcSJ9

This is true.  When an African American is arrested or in trouble for something, the media does not use their high school graduation picture or a picture of them taking care of their grandmother.  Instead, they use a picture of them wearing a hoodie and jeans, sunglasses, holding up the peace sign (which many like to call a gang sign).  The media intentionally creates this image, and we, for the most part, believe it.  It’s sickening.

Now anyone who knows me, knows that I have many friends of different ethnicities and work with and love numerous children as well.  When I read this story, I think about my friends, I think about my kids from the Lighthouse, and I wonder what the future holds for them.  I think about the privileges that I have simply because of the color of my skin and I think about how unfair, unjust, and un-Christ-like that is.  I think about people who say that racism does not exist, and I wonder what rock they are living under. 

In Ferguson, Missouri the town itself is over 60% African American, yet their mayor and police chief are white, and just 3 of their 53 police officers are African American.

For where I found this statistic and more:    http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2014/08/10-insane-numbers-ferguson-killing

This problem is real and we should all care about it.  And I challenge you all, the next time you are walking down the street and walk past an African American teenage boy, what do you think?  What thought automatically pops into your mind as you look at that boy (who is maybe wearing a hoodie and baggy pants or maybe not)?  And then put yourself in that boy’s shoes, of the shoes of his mother, or father, or grandparent, friend, aunt, uncle, cousin, etc.  Is that how you would want someone to view your loved one?  Without even a conversation, simply by first glance taking only into consideration his outward appearance….that’s a life.  A life that is being criticized by the media, a life without white privilege, a life that has to be more afraid of the police that trusting, a life that maybe has to work at least twice as hard to attend college or get a decent paying job, a life that is easily oppressed, marginalized and discriminated against, and a life that can so easily be taken like what happened just a few days ago in the “Land of the free, and the home of the brave.”

This problem is serious and if we don’t change our opinions and stereotypes now, this problem will continue on for generations to come.  The USA was founded on the beliefs in justice, freedom, equality, liberty, yet I see none of those at work in this situation.  Instead, I see injustice, subordination, inequality, and prohibition.  We’ve got to care about this.  We have to change the perspectives we have about people of all colors, sexual orientations, ethnicities, etc., in an effort to make the media do the same.  The potency of the media and their ability to control how we all think needs to end.  We should no longer fall for the stereotypes they hand us, and should seek to love and bring about justice for all of our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Now, you are probably wondering how any of this relates to me being here in Argentina.  When my host family and friends from here saw this story on the news they just could not comprehend it.  They did not understand how a police officer (who is designed to protect) could kill a teenage boy who was unarmed.  They were bewildered and confused and could not even believe this was real.  It made me wonder if we, in the US have become numb to things like this, or are beginning to get used to them. If we are, that needs to stop, like yesterday.  We can’t become accustomed to this.  The views of my family and friends made me realize on a whole different level how sick, and disgusting, and inhumane, and dehumanizing, and immoral, and unjust, and unfair, and unequal, and oppressive, and racist, and discriminatory, and sad, and seemingly against everything the United States stands for this situation is.   For the first time, I viewed this situation from a different lens and it only made me feel sadder, madder, and more disappointed.

I don’t know how to make a big change, but I am a believer that little individual changes can create the big ones.  I think we all just need to be honest with ourselves and the stereotypes that we have that we may not even know we are thinking.  We need to realize them, and then throw them away forever, and we need to do it now.  I want my kids from the Lighthouse, my nieces, the kids from Wayne, PA, and those from Kensington, Philadelphia to grow up in a country where the color of one’s skin is not even a thought, the police truly do exist to protect people of all colors, every individual is given the same opportunities, and where love abides strongly between all people.  That’s my dream, and I think it should be everyone’s as well.  Let’s begin with the little changes so that someday this country can actually be what I believe it was designed to be.  

Sweet Days

Yesterday and today were just plain awesome, and sweet, really, really sweet.

I did nothing this weekend, absolutely nothing.  After going out Thursday and Friday night, I was exhausted and just ended up sleeping a lot and spending lots of time with my family.  I enjoyed it, and it was really nice to have some time to wind-down after exams.

However, yesterday was great. When I woke up, I ran some errands and then came home and had lunch.  Guess what was for lunch.  Raviolis.  Cheese filled, freshly made, wonderfully smelling raviolis.  Also, a fear for me.  Due to some post-surgery issues a year and a half ago, I kind of changed my eating habits, and not eating cheese is one of the biggest changes I made.  I'm at a point where I don't even think about it, don't desire to eat it, and am just accustomed to it not being a part of my diet.  But it was what was for lunch.  Just home-made raviolis with homemade meat sauce sitting there waiting for me as I walked in the door.  So guess what I did...I ate it, and I enjoyed it.  Fear overcome.  And guess what?  I feel fine and my body is fine.  Will I start eating cheese regularly again?  No, just because I don't like cheese that much.  But do I now know that I need not be afraid of it?  Yes.  Little victory.  And let me tell you, BEST RAVIOLIS EVER.

After lunch, I spent the rest of the day with the super cool chico I told you about in a previous post; the one that I got to talk to about Jesus.  We meet at Patio Olmos (the center of el centro), and walked around for a while together.  We were also on a hunt for alfajores (these little indivual packaged chocolate covered cakes of goodness that Argentina is known for) that do not have dulce de leche in them....because my friend is crazy, and does not like dulce de leche and it seems to be in everything sweet here.  I have no problem with that.  We did finally find ones without, but they were just okay.  We still had no trouble eating them though.

As we were eating the alfajores, we sat outside on a windowsill and talked for a while.  I love that he and I talk about exactly what we are passionate about, and that the talks get so deep so quickly.  I learn from him and am challenged by him, and he says that I do the same for him.  It's just a friendship where so much growth takes place, and those are the best kinds.

After talking for a while, we met up with his host brother, Gonsalez and went to a park to drink mate.  It was great, the weather was not to cold (FINALLY) and it was awesome to just sit and talk.  I am telling you, I am constanly surprised, and happy by how much the people here value relationships and time together over everything.  Cleaning a house or going grocery shopping or rearranging furniture or taking a shower or washing the dishes or running an errand or anything will NEVER come before spending quality time with others.  I love that here on the weekends and weekday afternoons the parks are packed with people drinking mate together and talking.  They use their weekends to love others, not to cross things off of their personal agendas.  I will never get sick of this, and this will be the hardest thing about going home.

After the park, we walked around for a while and then ate dinner ate some amazing place.  We ate what is called lomos.  Lomos are just basically a sandwich with fresh bread, some type of meat, lettuce, tomato, and millionesa.  It was so good, and the conversation was even better.  Even though we have not been friends for that long, I am constantly amazed by how much we think alike, while at the same time learning from each other.  We talked about religion, politics, suffering, and everything else that is seemingly unanswerable, but our little brains tried to think about it all. 

We then topped off the day with the best ice cream in the world.  I'm not kidding.  I got strawberry and dulce de leche and they were both amazing.  Come to Cordoba and try the ice cream, you will not be dissappointed.

The three of us!!!

Today, much of the same happened again, and I would have wanted nothing different.  The day began with criollos and dulce de leche and just proceeded to get better and better.  I walked to the market with mi abuela, which I just LOVE to do.  She goes to the mercado (market), or polleria (chicken store), or verduleria (vegetable store) every day and I jump at the chance to accompany her.  We walk for the neighborhood, and I am constantly amazed by how I feel safer and safer each day.

When we got home from the mercado, mi abuela began to make lunch.  Today we had something new and it was amazing and I think I learned how to make it.  Using the fresh greens we bought that morning, mi abuela chopped them up into little pieces, and mixed that with choclo (creamed corn), pimientos (peppers), cebollas (onions), ajo (garlic), and more but I forget.  All of that mixed together was the inside of crepes.  Yes crepes.  Or what they called here pancakes (just say that with your best Spanish accent), made out of flour, sugar, eggs, and milk.  So simple and so good.  Topped with homemade tomato sauce and cooked to perfection....there are no words for how good, and how fresh, and how chemical and preservative free....I could go on and on.

After lunch, I met up with my friend again!  (His host brother met up with us a little later).  Once again, the first thing we did was search for alfajores without dulce de leche.  We found what we thought were ones without, bought them, began eating them, and realized they still had dulce de leche.  I did not mind AT ALL, but my poor friend just can't escape the dulce de leche here.

We then walked and talked and walked and talked for forever and it was amazing.  I swear we have discussed just about everything, but we could still talk non-stop for days.  I love that he is passionate, that he cares about other people, and even though he does not have a personal relationship with Jesus, I see Jesus in him and in the way he loves other people.  I truly think he is on a journey right now to discover something; he has been telling me that he has never thought this much or this hard about Jesus before.  How cool and exciting, right?

We stopped and got some amazing Cappuccinos at a cafe that is actually called Cafe con Dios (coffee with God).  He had gone there before and wanted me to experience it for myself.  I'm not sure how I feel about it, as there were flyers and pictures of the pope everywhere, but the cappuccino was great.  We then continued walking for a while and eventually met his host brother for dinner.  We ate lomos again, just a different kind and they were amazing again.  Then of course just like yesterday, we got ice cream, just at a different shop.  Today I got another dulce de leche kind and cookies and cream, and was again blown away by how good it was.  I don't know if yesterday's or today's was better, but they were both just amazing.

All in all, yesterday and today were sweet, in more ways than one.  I spent so much time engaged in meaningful conversation with the people here that are most important to me.  I am also seeing my Spanish improve so much, and today I had a complete ah-ha moment with imperfect and preterite (the two ways of conjugating verbs past tense).  These two tenses have always been a struggle for me, and quite honestly I usually just guess, but today, today I got it.  For the first time ever, my brain thought in Spanish, and it thought right.  I got so excited.  That was sweet. And then the alfajores, mi abuela's cooking, lomos, and ice cream.....so sweet and thank goodness I've been walking tons of miles every day.                

It's just funny now

Yesterday was the longest day of my life.  By far.  The words I would use to describe it are horrible, painful, embarrassing, funny, and over.  Thank goodness it is over.  Yesterday was the day of that super hard test, that I explained in a previous post.  At 9:00am the testing began.  The first part was the written part and it was three hours long.  After that was over, we were all given our times for the oral exam.  I, of course was given one of the latest times, 5:30.  I had to sweat it out all day.

The written part was easier than I expected, but I also have no idea how hard they will grade it.  The oral part started out well, and just went downhill from there.  For the oral exam, a professor walked out of a classroom and called my name.  I entered the room and saw the other professor sitting there.  For this exam, one professor talks to you, and the other one just takes notes on everything you say.  They also record you.  No pressure, I know.  The first thing I had to do was just tell them about myself, why I am here, why I study Spanish, ect.  That was all easy.  Then they handed me two pictures of advertisements and I had to read both, and then pick one and talk about it.  I picked the one that I understood the best and just began butchering Spanish.  I had just told them how I've been studying Spanish for 8 years, and then I just proceeded to be unable to conjugate any verbs, or use the right ones, and I even responded to the professor using the informal form vos, which you are only supposed to use for friends, or people of your age.  They probably thought I was lying about the studying for 8 years part.  But oh well, I know that I got my point across and I am definitely my own toughest critic.  I did my best under the extreme pressure, and I have accepted that I may or may not get the score I need to.

However, I am not even sure I need a certain score anymore, because the class that I have been planning on taking at the University for the past year at least, I CAN NOT TAKE.  Yes, the class that I NEED to take in order to graduate on time, I can't take.  So here's why- I was told that the class was beginning yesterday, and that even though I was not officially registered for it (that is a whole other story), I could still attend the class as if I was, so as to not miss any important information.  So I got there a bit early, and was standing outside the classroom with a bunch of other students.  I soon noticed that they all seemed to be studying some notes.  Great, I thought.  We had homework for the first day, and I didn't even know about it.  False.  It was not homework. The students were preparing to take their midterm. 

After asking a student, and then talking to the super nice professor, I learned that this class is a year long class, and the students are about to begin their second semester.  Yesterday was their midterm, and then they continue with the second half from there.  The professor said he could not let me in the class for the second half just because he would not be able to give me an actual grade for only coming to the second part of it.  I walked away from that conversation laughing and crying at the same time.  Laughing because this was just the cherry on top of a super crappy day, and crying because I was laughing so hard.  I just couldn't believe it.  What I have been so worried about, what I've been so excited about, is not even going to happen.

What I am super mad about though, is how did NO ONE know this?  No one in the program thought to advise myself, or Eastern of the fact that this class was not actually a possibility.  I was given the syllabus for this class months before leaving to come here, I was told it would be hard, but doable.  I was told what books to read, what to expect from the professor, and what an actual class at the university would be like.  I just wasn't told that the class is a year long class, and that I wouldn't be able to take it.  How did no one know that?  This is not Eastern's fault, and not the professor of the class' fault (in fact after a super long day of trying to get registered for this class, he is the ONLY person that showed concern and gave me some answers), there was just a lack of communication or a lack of research done somewhere. 

However, the program director told me not to worry, that she would try to find someone who can personally tutor me through a Spanish Lit. course and that I would do it like an independent study.  If this works, at least I will get the credits, but this will not be the same as being in a class, with a professor who knows so much, and other students from Argentina. I was really excited to have that experience, and I am really frustrated that now I will not. 

After that interesting day yesterday, I went out with some friends last night and we had so much fun!  After a super long week it was fun to be done with everything, get dressed up, and go out and festejarse un poquito.

Now, I have no class or anything for over a week, until next Monday.  This week I really want to go to some of the neighboring cities of Cordoba and explore them a bit.  I think I am going to go hiking, and also my speaking partner wants to have a cooking day with me.  I think her and I are the same person.  Last night she said she thinks we were separated at birth.  It might be true; I got super lucky to be paired with her.

Oh, and I also found on my computer some pictures of mi casa that I took before my phone was stolen, so I thought I would show you all where I live!  Forewarning:  I am NOT a photographer, and these pictures are horrible.

These are pictures of what I see when I look out the huge window in my room....not much.

These are pictures of my bedroom.  It is cute, and small, and feeling more like home every day.

This is my bed after I made it, mi abuela came in and re-made it like she still does every day.

So that's all I got.  Sorry.  As soon as I get my phone, I will take pictures of the whole house. 

Oh and a shout-out to this girl for being 19 now.  Miss and love you Alexis!

 

25 days and counting

I have officially been here for 25 days.  I've been gone for 27, but here in Cordoba for 25.  It does not feel like that long, but at the same time it feels like so much longer.  I can't explain it; I'll let you know if I figure out how to. 

In the past 25 days I think I have grown more as a person, an independent person, than I ever have before in my life.  I have had to figure out more things on my own than I can count, and there is something so scary, exhilarating and just great about that.  Although the terrifying reality of my parents not being just a phone call away kind of sucks, it also is a great way to force myself to learn, or rather I should say force myself to make mistakes and then learn from them.

Prior to coming here if I was ever lost, needed help, wanted advice, needed to vent/complain/cry/scream/be excited about anything, I would immediately talk to my parents or sisters or a friend.  Here, that opportunity does not usually exist, or it does, but not with the people who know me best, and I think the outcome of that is so positive.  I have had to be alone in my own thoughts, find my way through this huge city alone, give myself the advice I think my loved ones would, and learn to be content with my feelings, feel them to their extent, and then release them appropriately if necessary.  I have had to completely rely on myself and it has been wonderful in an extremely challenging way.

I have learned so much about the person I am, the kind of people I am drawn to, and how I best function.  At home I am surrounded by people who already know these things about me so I don't even have to be aware of them, but here, no one knows me (or knew me), and I've had to explain myself.  In my explanations and ways of expressing myself, I am learning about what I love, what I hate, my strengths, my weaknesses, and what motivates me to continue in this journey and to continue pursing the things that I am the most passionate about.

I've learned that I thrive with intentional people.  People who want to sit down without technology and talk about whatever is on their heart.  I love having someone open up their heart to me, while also desiring for me to do the same.  People who want to know my every thought and who are willing to share theirs as well, people who outright feel every emotion that touches their heart because they can't help but be real, people who radiate love and warmth without even saying a single word, people who hug because they know we were designed for proximity, and people who reflect humility while simultaneously confidently knowing their purpose.

I've learned that I love a balance between a schedule and nothing.  I love a structured day with lots to do, but I also love a day free, where I find myself hearing stories from mi abuela about her childhood, or helping her pick out paint colors for her arts and crafts.  I love both kinds, because in both I see things being accomplished.  In a busy day, much is completed.  In a day of nothing, conversation is had, learning takes place, and people grow closer together.  Both types are necessary, and I think prior to coming here I was a pretty even split between the two, but now I may be leaning more towards one of them.  Take your guess as to which one ;)

I'm learning that I love to learn.  Even if it is just mi abuela telling me about something she heard on the news, I love it.  I love new information, I love hearing someone's point of view, and I love spending time taking in, processing, and then thinking hard about whatever it is that I've learned.  I love learning best from other people. I believe that no article or book can correctly depict every word, feeling, and belief that one can be trying to explain.

I'm learning that I love culture.  I don't think I experienced culture shock, and I don't think I am going to.  Are things so very different here?  HECK YES.  But I love it.  And I don't mean that I love all the differences, I just love that there are differences.  I love that this culture is unique, that each family is unique and that these people are devoted to their culture and their way of life. I knew I loved learning about other cultures before coming here, but now I know that I just love being in other cultures and experiencing them for myself, because let's face it, no amount of learning in a classroom and actually do justice to the taste of empanadas, criollos con dulce de leche, or asada.

I'm only 25 days in; I know I have a long way to go, but I can't help but feel like the past 25 days have been a success.  A challenging, trying, exciting, terrifying, delicious success.  I am only looking forward to the next 4 months and 15 days.