one of many

Today was the best day ever. And now I'm going to tell you why. After waking up from a divine 12-hour slumber, I had some great greek yogurt and corn flakes that my host mother had kindly bought for me after I told her I was a yogurt fiend. Then I joined her and her daughter on a short walk to one of the middle schools where they both voted for Buenos Aires' next governor (Macri won, by the way). Afterwards I headed out to the Parque Rosedal for a run and I only got a little bit lost on the way there! (This was quite an accomplishment because last time I attempted this, I walked about forty-five minutes out of my way and then proceeded to run around the wrong park, el Parque Japonais, which was also beautiful, but tiny). Today's was a long, but gorgeous run. There were so many people (rollerbladers, families, dogs, runners) out and about, enjoying their Sunday.

I came back to an empty apartment, snuck some leftovers for lunch, since I'm a chica barata (cheap) who refused to pay for lunch somewhere else, and got ready for the afternoon. I joined two friends in Palermo, where we walked around before parking ourselves in a café for a few hours. I ordered some coffee and a piece of cake, we all talked, I read some of my book and then we all moved on to a bottle of Malbec. We very much enjoyed ourselves. We left the café, and I came home to some homemade pizza. Twenty minutes later I left to meet another friend for some extraordinarily delicious ice cream. A perfect day full of food, friends, fun, and food.

abaporMe

Today we went to the MALBA museum, which is the Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires. Much of the work was contemporary and was all very cool.

But this was my favorite, Abaporu, painted in 1928 by Tarsila do Amaral, a Brazilian artist. Apparently she gave the work to the husband she later divorced, Oswald de Andrade, who immediately thought the large man looked cannibal-like. After looking through the dictionary, the two stumbled upon the word "aba poru," which means "man who eats man" and hence the title of the piece.

Tarsila do Amaral was at the forefront of the Brazilian modernist movement. According to information provided by MALBA, the cannibalism contained within the painting equates with a purging of the European influence that largely defined/defines Brazilian culture. 

"The construction of the modernity and the national identity in the countries of Latin America are the faces of the same coin. From this perspective, Tarsila do Amaral starts to think about the necessity of returning to her roots, closely investigating the concept of the 'brasilidad.'" Another fun fact: Abaporu is painted in the colors of the Brazilian flag! It's all here in Spanish if you want to read more: MALBA

Caminando por la ciudad

Sleeping for approximately twelve hours last night was crucial to getting through today. Though admittedly, I was still a bit tired, in the afternoon, I suddenly found the energy to walk around and explore the city a bit more—and not get sidetracked by the tantalizing cafés on every corner. Today we started registering for courses. The process was a bit overwhelming because there’s a lot to think about, like the content of the actual courses, the credits, the credits transferring…and the fact that I don’t want to do any actual work over the next five months. So…there was much to consider. But in the afternoon, Ani and I shared a lovely walk home to her apartment in San Telmo, which is an area that’s in the opposite direction from where I live. Since every block is so distinct, with the scenery changing constantly as you move from corner to corner, the trek was quite enjoyable. As we got closer to the Plaza de Mayo, where much of the government buildings reside, I felt like more and more we were in Europe and less like we were in Argentina. The Congreso’s architecture literally took my breath away. That sounds extraordinarily cheesy, but if you ask Ani, she’ll tell you that I made her walk around the perimeter of the entire building so I could praise its every feature. We even flirted our way into a tour of the inside, but were soon a bit bored, disappointed that the cute security guard who’d led us inside the building wasn’t our actual guide. I might have to start walking Ani home past the Congreso more often! After dropping Ani off, I made my way back to the Plaza de Mayo, where the setting sun started to cast a great light on the Casa Rosada (the pink version of our White House) and the other buildings around it. Walking down into the crowded subway station, with the evening rush hour tossing me around, I was probably the happiest I’ve been. 

  

P.S. Santa Fe is a major street in Buenos Aires. 

And this is a great song. 

hop, skip, and a jump

I don’t think I’ve ever been this exhausted in my entire life. I could say it’s because I walk everywhere (finally a little bit more definition in my calves!!!!) but honestly, I make so much more use out of the day than I do normally in the States, so somewhere between coming home late and waking up early probably lies the reason behind my fatigue (whoops?). I wish I could say that I’ve done some really incredibly awesome things besides ADD more to my “to-do” list, since the past few days unfortunately have been a bit chopped up by orientation obligations. Not that I really mind. Pretty much all I do every day is café-hop. I eat a little lunch, walk a few blocks, sit down for a coffee, go back to the student center, leave again, get a little snack somewhere else, head home, sleep, eat dinner, make time for a little R&R in preparation for la noche, and then go out. No moment has been a sour one, let me tell you.

My noisy next-door neighbors have suddenly stopped crying and screaming at each other, so I think I will take advantage of the tranquility and sign off for now. I need to make a full recovery; tomorrow we begin course registration!

los dias exhaustivos y largos y fabulosos

Well, the past few days have been crazily overwhelming but I can most definitely say that I am in love with Buenos Aires. I have not stopped moving since I’ve gotten here, between doing miscellaneous logistical things for CIEE (the study abroad program I’m part of) to wandering aimlessly around the city, to navigating the subway system, to stumbling home at the wee hours in the morning, to taxi-ing to Plaza Serrano every night, (the only place in Palermo I’ve so far explored in terms of barhopping), to trekking in the pouring rain to a hidden yoga studio, to just completely converting everything into Spanish day in and day out. Finally tonight I’m taking it easy to collect myself and think about the past five days in the "Paris of South America," a perfect mélange of sophisticated European influence and a strong Latin American cultural mindset. A good example that gives you an idea of what I'm talking about looks at the city's enthusiastic response to Uruguay's annihilation of Paraguay in the copa Latinoamericana. As me and a few other girls casually strolled along Avenida Florida, window shopping and inspecting the knick-knacks street vendors sold on the very same sidewalk, we passed some incredibly ornate and beautiful government buildings that reminded me of the elegant Mairie de Paris. Soon after, a large, rowdy group of Argentines and Uruguayans alike came shouting down the calle, cheering and shouting about the recent game's end result. You might think that a group like that might seem a bit out of place within its grandiose surroundings, but actually, in no way does the fuerta Latin American culture clash with the European architecture that defines Buenos Aires. Solely does it all fuse together to form a richly diverse cosmopolitan city. 

There's a lot to say but my computer is about to die and the charger no funciona. So I'll get back to it tomorrow. 

heading south

tonight's my last night in (north) America for five whole months!

got my ticket and I'm ready to go.

if not now, then when?

(honestly the only reason why I said the above was so I could have an excuse to post another Tracy Chapman fav)

that time I went to Greece

these are a little late in the game, but I wanted to share some of the photos I took while I was in Greece this past May. 

Sailing around Chanya. We weren't sailing.

From our hotel in Santorini. How great is that hat?

One of the Greek Orthodox churches, Santorini

Man looking out at caldera, Santorini 

Typical shutters on cave huts in Santorini

I had a thing with gates-- this time I played with the light a bit

Courtyard gate, Santorini

Washing machine, Santorini

From a walk I took by myself, Santorini

Playing around with rocks on the beach, Santorini

Parthenon

a baptism

Literally translated from Spanish, buenas cejas means “good eyebrows.” So why call my blog this? Well, for one thing, my brows have been passed down to me from my grandfather, so now I feel it is up to me to carry the torch. Both he and I are particularly proud and protective of our eyebrows, although he doesn't put them through the rigorous maintenance I submit mine to.

But I also learned through a bit of wiki searching, “brow” means more than initially meets the eye. Culture has been subdivided into three “brows”: high, middle, and low. At first I naively thought that calling myself a “middlebrow” would be the most appropriate, assuming that it represented someone often frequented with indecision and/or who was content to sway to both ends of the spectrum (i.e. me). As it turns out, being a middlebrow is not such a good thing. In fact middlebrows were denounced by the highly opinionated Virginia Woolf, who, (and mind you, this is all according to Wikipedia), criticized them for proclaiming a disingenuous love of great literature, art, and music. The reality though, is that middlebrows never actually draw meaning from any of the works they claim to admire; they merely want to insidiously blend into society as intellectuals, or highbrows. I could have settled on highbrow, but let’s face it. Those people are a bit out of my league. And lowbrow? Well, I don't think I belong there.

Determined to not be a middlebrow, I labeled my own brows. They’re good brows, taking on a defiant, yet comfortable position. For me, this is a good place to be. They require a lot of work to maintain, but in the end I hope they leave their mark.