I Heart Argentina....parte tres

I'm back for yet another installment of "I Heart Argentina....parte tres".  I'm your host, Vallazza-Raptor.

Though it's been almost two years since I've been back to Argentina, I remember many of its attributes quite fondly.  (sigh...)

I forgot what number I was on in my last installment, but for times sake, I'll just continue with the #7.

7) Los Boliches
Los Boliches are what Argentines call their night clubs.  I've only been to a few, but that's all I need to know. They also call their clubs "el disco" but I prefer "Los Boliches".  The night life in Argentina doesn't get started until 2 a.m. or after.  It saddens me that the U.S. is missing out on this type of nightlife because last call is usually at 1:30 a.m. in a place like Jacksonville.  It's no wonder that most other people think American's are boring...we don't get the party started.  Latinos, however, could party all the way until the sunrise!  I know this for a fact because I did it many times in Costa Rica and in Argentina, but I also had the dubious pleasure of accompanying someone until the wee morning hours of daylight in a small beach town in Argentina called "Monte Hermoso".

As I was saying, while the club doesn't open until 2 a.m., but the real fun doesn't start until 3 or 4 in the morning.  That's when the club starts hopping. You're there, packed with numerous amounts of people, almost to the point of claustrophobia, dancing...sweating...getting into close quarters with people you didn't know existed until five seconds ago. It's marvelous, really.

I went to several places in Bahía Blanca, Argentina, as well as the surrounding cities in December 2012.  My friends took me to Monte Hermoso, a nice little beach town that has the fame of being the only city in Argentina where the beach has both a sunrise and sunset on the water. It's really a beautiful little town.  In any case, they took me to a place called "El Pelícano" (The Pelican) at 1 a.m. and my friend, her husband and I all danced with one another until the place closed.  However, I did end the night dancing with a beautiful man who ended up whisking me away to another club down the street until the sun rose...it was a great night...or morning...  I shall call him Señor J.  We ended up dancing all night, through the morning until he dropped me off at my friends beach house at 9 a.m..  We made out passionately like teenagers...it was pretty nice. ;) Not sure I want a repeat with him, but like I've mentioned before, I don't allow just ANYONE to make it past first base with me unless there's potential.

In the boliches, you dance to whatever music is popular in Argentina, which is typically cumbia villera, or whatever Argentine rock band is popular. There are some even American Top 40 hits that they play on the airwaves in Argentina.  I quite enjoy cumbia of any sort, but I think cumbia villera now has a soft spot in my heart as well. My dad hates it. He prefers cumbia colombiana.  What can I say? I like accordeon/bandoneon music and I'm nerdy that way.

The last time I went to Argentina in July 2013, I went to a Cuban boliche.  Though I'm not Cuban, I do and have associated more with Cubans than I have my own background. Perhaps it's because my sister has been married to a Cuban for the last 24 years or so. I like Cuban food and I like their style of dancing to salsa and merengue.  In any case, I heard about my fellow compadres having a Cuban restaurant in Argentina and that they played salsa, so naturally I had to go sample the food and dance to the music.

I felt like a celebrity once I arrived!

I requested a few merengues from the DJ. The lady stared at me, and asked, "De dónde eres?" (Where are you from, using the "tú"form.) I smiled and said I was from Florida.  She immediately announced to the guys behind the bar that I was from Miami and that I had come to dance for the night.  I was instantly plied with free mojitos and all the merengue and salsa I wanted, because when "you're from 'Miami', you're instantly Cuban"...Although I'm not Cuban and I'm actually from or live in Jacksonville. I lacked no dance partners at all that night.  It was nice because I could dance without having to worry about being pawed upon.  I just went to dance, and dance I did!  I closed the restaurant down there as well at 6 a.m..  Truly a wonderful experience.

This is not to say that I am a party animal either in the States. I just simply like to dance. I enjoy music. I enjoy meeting people. I don't like close quarters. I sometimes get social anxiety if I feel there's too many people someplace.

If you go to Argentina, I recommend going at least once to the disco/boliche.  They can be pretty fun. Though take some TP.  The toilet paper is thin or sometimes non-existent in the bathrooms at the boliches.

I went with my friend's brother and his friends once and since I was the "Yanqui" I was also instant celebrity and given free drinks.  The bartender thought I was pretty, but I was not interested. But he still kept the drinks coming!  We stayed out until 7 a.m. that night. :)

8) El acento.
Oh, my goodness...the first time I ever heard any Argentine speak was through the speakers in my dad's Oldsmobile station wagon. I was 4 and listening to my father's recordings of tango as we drove around Kansas City.  I noticed they spoke Spanish differently than what I was used to hearing.  I had actually heard tangos for years, but never really noticed their accent until then. I asked my dad, "Porque hablan diferente?"  Why do they speak funny?

"Porque son argentinos," he replied.

At four years old, I had no idea what Argentines were, nor that there was a country named Argentina.  All I knew was that I liked the way they sang and that their tango was sexy.  Of course, I didn't know what "sexy" meant either, but now as an adult, I recognize that I was turned on by Argentines from a very early age.

Fast forward to my early college years, beginning in 2001.

I was beginning to have more of an interest in my Hispanic backgrounds.  I was taking a class called "Introduction to Latin America" at Johnson County Community College.  I remember there being this beautiful man in my class that I liked staring at.  I would get embarrassed whenever he caught me staring at him.  Whenever he opened his mouth, he spoke English with the most beautiful accent. I finally brought up the courage to ask him where he was from one day before class as we waited out in the hallway.

"I am from Argentina," he said, with his beautiful accent emerging from that beautiful mouth.

I got shivers down my spine...and into my core...goosebumps emerged.

True, in 1996, I had seen "Evita" in the theatre as Madonna sang and danced her way onto the streets of Buenos Aires.  There had been a kerfuffle amongst Argentines against the idea that Madonna was going to be playing one of their more revered historical characters.  Having Madonna portray Eva Perón was like saying that Steppenwolf would be playing Mariachi music at the presidential inauguration for Clinton. I even did a report on Evita in 10th grade where I got a 100%. Woot woot.

Anyways...I digress...Back to the hot Argentine in my class...

When he spoke Spanish in class, I about melted.  I had never heard anyone use "Vos" for "you".  I had only grown up with "tú" or "Usted".  As well as, "sos" for "you are" instead of "eres".  It was all so mysterious. It was then that I discovered that not all Spanish speakers speak the same Spanish. I knew there were slight differences because my mom speaks Mexican Spanish and my dad Ecuadorean, but I never thought about the even bigger differences between the continents or even regions within one's country.  I was only 18, so I didn't know.

I hungered to find more of these people!

For the above mentioned class, I elected to do a report on the tango. Who knew better information about the tango than my dad?!  My grandfather knew a lot as he had lived with uncles in Buenos Aires in the 1920s. But my grandfather had passed away in 1997, so I couldn't ask him.

Papi had all sorts of tango songs which I promptly downloaded.  I had grown up listening to many of the old tangos that were played on the airwaves in Buenos Aires back in the 1930s.  Singers such as Carlos Gardel, Julio Sosa, Argentino Ledesma, etc...I knew a lot of those songs. Their accents and the lyrics made me melt!  There's even a movie that is one of my favorites called "Tango, no me dejes nunca".  I have watched that movie so many times over and over again. I love the music, dancing and the script. Beautiful.

One time, I was out with The Girlies - Toaster Oven and Squeak Rodriguez, when I was tapped on the shoulder by a very handsome man. He asked me to dance. So we did and I discovered that he was from Argentina because he winked at me and said, "Qué hermosa sos!".

I about died...

"Stop it! My underwear is melting!" I exclaimed.  I told him that I loved his accent.  He continued to say that I was beautiful.  Alas...I was in a relationship at that time, so I wouldn't have done anything further but dance with him, but his accent was divine and dreamy.

The same thing can be said when I actually go to Argentina. I actually enjoy sitting in the café listening to the people talk with one another. It's like "People Watching" but more of "Listening".  I love doing it.

"Hola ché!  Cómo andas?" they say with sing-song quality.

"Bien, mi amor. Cuándo venís a la Argentina?" (Fine, my love. When are you coming to Argentina?) they'll ask.

"Cuándo vos quieras" (Whenever you want)

I developed a mini crush on some of the men in Argentina when I go visit simply because of the way they speak. One male friend in particular knows this and will just speak to me while I develop goosebumps on arms. He is such a tease...jerk... lol.

I've always said that I may end up with an Argentine just because I love the way they speak. Who knows if that will still be true?

9) La Plata
The name "Argentina" is actually derived from the Latin word, argentum, meaning "Silver".  On the periodic table of elements, it has a symbol of "Ag".  Silver is one of the most important metals in the world. In any case, the country Argentina got its name because of the myth and subsequent discovery of the mountains being made of silver.  In fact, the most important river in Argentine economy, "Rio de la Plata", was thus named because when Argentina was first discovered by European discoverers, it looked like a ribbon of silver running through the countryside.  I personally dislike the English translation of the river, 'River Plate'.  I think of actual fine-bone China plates, not "plate" as in "silver plate".  I prefer "Silver River".

Whatever...

The point I'm trying to make without having to digress through numerous historical facts is that Argentina's silver trade is lovely.

The first time I went to Argentina, I purchased a pair of simple silver hoop earrings.  Alas, I lost one in the back seat of a car only last fall.  The owner of the car found the earring, but has declined to return it to me unless I go back out and date him again.  To which I say, "poo", cause that jazz isn't happening ever again.  He was so boring...I digress yet again.

The silver is so abundant in Argentina. The silver smiths have done some tremendous work on their jewelry. I love all the pieces that I've garnered from the jewelry shops there, though I still want my earring back...

GRRR....

I'll just have to travel to Argentina once more to get another pair. :)

Just think!  My friends will have fun with that fact. I'll get to go back and visit my fellow Argentines again soon. :)

No Escape from THE FOGHORN

Recollection sometimes is a wonderful thing.

Sometimes, it can be used to remember a loved one that has gone the Way of Yonder, a.k.a. Death. Other times, it can be used to remember a painful memory.  Lastly, it can be used to remember something so memorable, that it's worth laughing about.

Today, I was doing some of the latter.

I was at a friend's house today, regaling her with stories. I honestly don't remember how I got on the subject of awkward people, but I remembered this story of a girl from my time at Flagler College.  Reason being...this girl was really weird.

Here, I shall pause and say, I'm kind of weird, too. I'm weird in a fascinating and funny way. I am unique! You won't find anyone else like me.  None of this creepy crap with me.  No way, José! I am blunt and realistic.

For the last four semesters of my undergrad, I attended Flagler College. Flagler College is a nice little college in Saint Augustine, Florida, that caught my eye for many reasons.

Not only is it a beautiful college campus, but they have reputable academics and small classes, which appealed to me. In 2004, it had a stained glass minor. I had never heard of a college with that kind of a program, so naturally, I wanted to minor in stained glass!  As the Vallazza-Luck would have it, the year I arrived was the last year that anyone could enter that particular minor program. So, I switched to Spanish as my major and Creative Writing as my minor.

My first class on the very first day of my "career" at Flagler was "Theatre History".  I sat down on the risers with my notebook, pen and paper.  The room began to fill up with other students. I didn't know a single soul since I had just moved from Kansas.  At last, class began and our teacher, Andrea, went over the syllabus. Just as she was finishing, in walks a mulatto-skinned girl with long hair wearing brogue shoes, a long skirt, a white t-shirt, and a unibrow meant to be the envy of Frida Kahlo.  She dragged a suitcase on wheels wrapped in silver duct tape.  She found a seat and abruptly sat down.

Her suitcase was one that rolls with an extendable handle.

Andrea, the professor, greeted her. "Hello, Renee."

Renee looks at Andrea. Without a smile of acknowledgement in return, she opens her mouth and releases the most basso profundo voice I have ever heard on a woman.  "HULLO!"

Her voice, manly and coming from what seemed like an endless abyss, sounded just like a foghorn.

This was the first of four semesters that I was to have experience with the girl I shall refer henceforth as "The Foghorn", except in case when it has to do with my name or hers, which are both very similar. I had many classes with this girl. In fact, not a single semester at Flagler was spent without having her in at least ONE of my classes. One semester, she was in TWO.  That was a nightmare.

The Foghorn was, what I will delicately say here, socially awkward and inept. The poor thing had very limited social skills and really needed friends to help her.  She was pretty polite, but as I mentioned before, her social skills were severely lacking. Surprising for a theatre major.

One of many experiences I had with The Foghorn was when I somehow got roped into being the "Inter Club Council" member.  A friend of mine got sick and could no longer attend the meetings as the ICC rep so she elected me to be the ICC member. That meant that I had to pal around with The Foghorn.  As I've mentioned before, this girl's name is Renee.  My nickname is "Ren" or "Renny".  People were always confusing us because our names are so similar.

However, does that mean I think it's funny or okay to confuse us both?

NO!

I don't even resemble this girl in any way shape or form, so I felt slightly insulted each time the mistake was made. She had long hair, bushy eyebrows, café au lait skin, and dressed in potato sacks. My hair was short, sculpted eyebrows, Beaner skin and I wore shorts and a tank top with flip flops.

Costa Rica, 2006.

Anyways...back to my story. 

For Christmas 2004, we had to come up with an ornament to put on the Christmas tree in the rotunda in the Ponce De Leon hall at Flagler.  Me, being creative with wannabe flair, wanted to come up with something snazzy.  The Foghorn took it upon herself to decorate an ornamental ball she found at Michael's with red puff paint that simply said 'ARIEL' Spanish Club.  We were supposed to place the ornament on a tree during a special ceremony. The club with the best ornament was to have won something pretty awesome, which must not have been that awesome because I can't remember what it was. 

The Foghorn told me to meet her at her dorm room at 5:45 p.m..  I had just recently moved off campus, about three blocks away.  As I was getting ready, I realized what time it was, 5:30 p.m., and ran three blocks in heels.

 I sweat the entire way there.  Running up two flights of stairs to her room, I see the door ajar. I knock, wait a moment, hear no answer and very gently pushed the door open.

Lo and behold...The Foghorn is hanging around in her undergarments and she's typing away on her computer.  Not even remotely getting ready. 

"Uh...you told me to meet you here at 5:45.  You're not even ready! I just ran three blocks and two flights of stairs. In heels, I might add. " I said, exasperated. 

With her booming, manly voice, The Foghorn says, "YEAH. I KNOW."

"Aren't you going to start getting ready?" I asked.

"YEAH," she boomed.

"Well, I'll just wait for you downstairs," I said, rolling my eyes.

"YEAH. YOU CAN DO THAT," honked The Foghorn. And she went back to her computer.

Annoyed, I walked down the stairs and headed straight for the cafeteria. I had some remaining meals on my plan and decided to get an ice cream. In fact, I went and got TWO. Yeah!

In the time it took for The Foghorn to get ready and come down, I had eaten one cone.  By this time, it was 6:05 and the ceremony had begun.  The choir was screeching Christmas carols and I was well on my way licking down my second cone. The Foghorn carried our drab looking, golden ornament in her hands. 

The clubs were called alphabetically.  ARIEL was the second club called up to the front for the night.  After the first club went, hung their ornament, they handed The Foghorn the microphone. I am almost finished with my cone. All that remains is the actual cone itself, so I shove it into my mouth so that people aren't looking at me eating ice cream in front of the whole school.  

She blasts into it, "My name...UM.... is Renee <Insert Last Name Here>. UH....UM....UH...I'm the president of...UM...UH...ARIEL, the Spanish club.  And this is...UH....UM..."

She thrusts the microphone in front of my mouth. 

CRUNCH!!! CRUNCH!!! CRUNCH!!! 

All you can hear through the microphone is me munching on the rest of my ice cream cone. 

"THAT'S REN. SHE HAS AN ICE CREAM CONE IN HER MOUTH. SHE IS THE ICC REP FOR ARIEL," announces The Foghorn.

Mortified, I manage a goofy smile with bits of cone in my mouth. I wave at everyone like a dolt. 

I hand the microphone to someone else and we hang the ornament together onto the tree.  As soon as that was over, I left.  LOL.

Another case in point was class. 

The Foghorn had this special knack for asking questions. Lots of them. Which is fine, mind you. There's nothing wrong in asking questions, especially if the meanings or context elude you. The Foghorn would ask questions when the answer was obvious, or if it were in the textbook, or in the discussion.

Here is an example from a blog I wrote back in 2005. I was taking a "Literatura Española" class (Spanish Literature Class) and The Foghorn was in that class.  As I mentioned before, The Foghorn was the PRESIDENT of the Spanish club, ARIEL, at Flagler. How she got that position, I have NO IDEA because the poor girl was not fluent verbally in Spanish.  All you could get out of her were deep vocalizations of "UH's" and "UM's" in between incoherent Spanish words and phrases.

Read the excerpt below from November 3rd, 2005.

I think I've mentioned that I have a particular classmate that is really loud, but also just doesn't get it. 

Today in class was another classic event.

This girl is in my Spanish Literature class. The class is conducted entirely in Spanish, so what ever questions or discussions that we students have must also be spoken in Spanish.

We've been studying a piece called "La Celestina". If you really care, it's set in the late 1500s in Spain and is about a prostitute by the name of Celestina who is a money monger as well as a matchmaker. She sets two people up by the name of Calisto and Melibea. Well, anyhow, think of this story as another Romeo and Juliet, but set in Spain. 

Any movie with Jordi Mollá is worth watching...

Calisto, the guy, dies by falling out of a tower and Melibea, distraught over having lost her true love, wants to kill herself. But of course, before she does so, she has a long monologue over how she lost her virginity and how she cannot live in society as a "loose" woman. Then she pitches herself over the same tower and dies.

Now, The Foghorn has no social skills.  She shoots her hand up right away and asks in Spanish, "Cómo sabe...UH...la gente que...UMMMMM... sí no estoy....UH...virgen?" 

Meaning: How do people know that I'm not a virgin? 

First off, she misconjugated the verb "to be" incorrectly. She should have used "SER" instead of "ESTAR." Secondly, she should have said, "soy" for "I am". "Estoy" mean "to be feeling" or "to be located". Let me localize your virginity before I take it!

This girl is a VERY conservative Christian. For her to say something like this is way out of the ordinary, as if Hell froze over! 

For those of us that are bilingual or just really good at Spanish, we tried really hard not to laugh straight in her face. I snorted and a few people turned their heads away from her so that she wouldn't notice them laughing either at her or her question. 

She then blushed, corrected herself and said with her booming voice, in English, "Wait! UM....No, I don't mean me!  UH, I mean her. I'm still a virgin, guys!" 

EVERYONE laugh more than they were.  A few people were crying from laughing so hard.

But she was in earnest and wanted to know. The teacher didn't know how to respond to her question.  I was fed up, since by this time, she had already asked several questions that annoyed the class. 

So I told her, in English, "Honey, they didn't use certain feminine products back in that day and age. They're going to know whether or not she's a virgin when she gets poked." 

Everyone started howling with laughter! 

This girl is so naïve. I feel so sorry for her. She is so out of place because she has absolutely no people skills.

Everyone tries so hard to not laugh openly at her because the questions she asks are absurd. 

But, I guess I have to sit back and realize that there really are people who just don't know about things."

Later on that day, after I wrote that post above, I felt badly. I went and actually wrote The Foghorn an apology for laughing at her.  The nice thing she did was tell me that she hadn't noticed.  That made me feel a little bit better about the whole situation. Nobody wants to get laughed at. I would feel poorly if I laughed at someone, knowing that I caused them some sort of hurt for doing that. 

Another time in class, the last semester that I was to share a class with her, she walks into the the second installment of Literatura Española, with her duct taped suitcase.  She stalks in with her long skirts and heavy brogue shoes.  She stops directly in front of a new student, who turned out to be a roommate of mine later on, and says to him, "I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE IN MY LIFE."

Well, no shit, Sherlock! Of course you haven't. 

He looked at her strangely, then looked back at me, while I smiled at him a knowing smile of  "Be careful with her," and he simply smiled at her. 

Later on in the semester, he invited her to a "Study Party" we ended up having at our house. I remember him saying, "Dude...we are going to get her messed up!!! I'm going to give her lots of beer!  She'll loosen up that way."

I remember thinking and I even told him, "Oh, please...don't do that. Invite her, but don't try to get her drunk. That's not funny."

She came to the party, but politely declined all offers to ply her with alcohol.

"I'M A BORN-AGAIN CHRISTIAN. I WAS RAISED A ROMAN CATHOLIC. IT'S AGAINST MY RELIGION. JUST LIKE HAVING FEELINGS FOR WOMEN IS AGAINST MY RELIGION."  She boomed.

Well...that explains why she speaks with a deep voice, then.

As I have grown older and become a teacher myself, I realize now that I was pretty harsh in my view of her back then.  I have had students in her situation that suffer from anxiety disorders related to interacting with others.  She could very well had Aspergers Syndrome, which disables people from being able to socially interact with others on a high level. 

She was pretty smart, from what I understood, but just really lacked the skill necessary to interact with people on a whole different level. 

I wish I could go back and tell myself from 10 years ago that perhaps what she needed was someone to help her.

Knowing that now, I think that's what I'll do in the future to help out a person like...The Foghorn.