Just call me "Guía-N"

I'm very excited to announce that I won't be working or blogging through the end of the month because I am expecting GUESTS!  That's right: I just confirmed that my first (and possibly only) visitors have taken off from Dulles and are currently en route to Buenos Aires.

Essential goods for surviving Buenos Aires

While I have no Jell-o mold or flower leis to offer as greeting gifts, my welcome wagon is quite awesome if I do say so myself.  Each kit includes:

• a Cachafaz treat (hands-down the best brand of alfajores) 
• a packet of tissues (uses of which are described in the guide)
• Buenos Aires maps (including the indispensable Guía-T)
• a detailed guide, "Tips for Surviving BsAs," written by yours truly, which includes general tips and survival, my phone number and some Argentine Spanish.

For those of you who are wondering: the number one tip is to watch where you step, i.e. avoid dog poop and uneven pavement.  Anyone else who decides to visit me will also receive one of these amazing,  complimentary kit— am I selling this hard enough?

Now I'm off to have a great visit with my family.  I'll be back in July with plenty of pictures and stories to share.

'Romantic Argentina'

This 1932 feature on Argentina is wonderful!  While it might make you nostalgic for simpler days (notice the lack of protestors), you'll probably be too busy laughing at its delightful corniness.  There's just something about a 1930s announcer who pronounces the country's name as if it were an individual adolescent (Argen-Teen) that's equal parts charming and outdated.

Thanks to my friend Melissa who's been disseminating this gem among our expat group!

I really would like to know what happened to Venito and his rainbow-colored pigeons.

Comienza el Mundial!

El Mundial, also known as the World Cup, kicked off in South Africa Thursday and already the energy in Buenos Aires is palpable.  Since the game of soccer (fútbol) is not appreciated stateside the way it is in Latin America, Europe and basically the rest of the world, it has been exciting to share in the enthusiasm.  To better describe the atmosphere here, let me say that World Cup fever is a lot like March Madness in North Carolina but on a much grander scale.  While regional tournaments can prove divisive (Die Duke!), the World Cup unites Argentina better than any problem, protest or bicentennial celebration ever could.

Raining on our parade at Plaza San Martin

In the spirit of this camaraderie, free public viewing screens have been set up in Plaza San Martin and Parque Centenario.  Yesterday, two friends and I went to Plaza San Martin to watch Argentina's first game in the tournament.  Unfortunately the weather was less than agreeable (cold and pouring rain) so we only stayed about 20 minutes before relocating to a nearby cafe to see Argentina defeat Nigeria 1-0.

And the party didn't stop there.  Another TEFL friend extended an invitation to watch the games at his friends' apartment in Belgrano.  The wife, Paola, is a lovely porteña who owns four restaurants in town and her husband Chris, is a native Texan.  We arrived in time to catch the U.S. tie with England and to gorge ourselves with the best (and biggest) meal I've had in a long time.  As a Texan living in Argentina, Chris knows how to combine the best of both worlds when it comes to preparing a steak.  The hot pink blush of the beef and the homemade barbecue sauce were enough to make us all swoon.

A house divided? I think not

If this first weekend is any indication, the month-long World Cup games will be a blast to experience in Buenos Aires.  I'll be cheering for my three favorite teams in the following order:

Go U.S.A.!!
Vamos Argentina!!
Andiamo Italia!!

Strolling around San Telmo

San Telmo: home of the tango

Since my first visit to the San Telmo Market one sweltering day back in January, I've been meaning to return when the weather was cooler and my wallet fuller.  Last Sunday (nearly six months later) I finally accomplished that goal.

The market was mostly the same: hordes of tourists, fresh squeezed orange juice, marching bongo drummers and plenty of odd souvenirs and baubles.  This time, however, I found myself shivering rather than sweating within the windy blocks of Calle Defensa.  At one point I almost bought an extremely dorky alpaca poncho simply to stay warm.  Luckily a 7-peso choripan kept me toasty enough.  Besides, there's no better way to spend a Sunday than wandering the eclectic, and often bizarre, market with a chorizo sandwich in one hand and a cup of OJ in the other.

No one was mugged in the making of this art

'Corto' apparently a no-go

BsAs prefers long and lustrous

Many of you know I have a hair problem.  Where some people buy ridiculously expensive shoes and others get a new tattoo, I take out any angsty/bored/time-for-a-change mood on my hair.  It's how I ended up with a pixie cut at 15, purple hair at 20 and a speakeasy bob at 23.  That same scissors-first, questions-later impulse has now made me the sheered llama in a country full of alpacas.

Just ask Natalia Oreiro

In March, I got my hair trimmed at an authentic peluquería one block from my apartment.  The episode wasn't traumatizing like my experience in Italy (picture a scary Italian woman with sideburns using her half-inch acrylic nails to comb in highlights), but it wasn't great either.  The diminutive man declared my hair seco y roto (dry and broken) without doing much to fix it.  Since then, my mane's looked like a nightmare so it was a wonderful stroke of luck to find Terrie, an Irish hair dresser/English teacher/anthropologist/expat.  She fixed my hair right up and now I have a cute new 'do.

Cristina isn't too keen on shorties

In just about any other international city, you'll spy people with crazy clothes and even crazier hair.  But here in Buenos Aires, long locks are the style of choice, barring the celebrated (but still vile) mullet.  I already knew this, but I was surprised today when neither my students nor my Argentine acquaintances made any comment as to the missing inches.  Of course, men might have missed it, but I know the women noticed.

Maybe they found it less than flattering?  Possibly they thought I didn't like it and therefore wouldn't want anyone to call attention to it?  Perhaps they assumed I'd had a crazy breakdown a la Britney Spears and hacked it all off?

Rebel without a weave

Regardless of the reason, I have crossed into the Land of the Lepers in terms of Argentine trendiness. Quiza my roommate (another outcast with hair above her shoulders) and I can start a bob coalition.