Córdoba: It's like going back to camp... with beer

Although this wonderful trip was precisely two months ago, I think it's still worth retelling the "Tale of TEFL Goes to Germantown."

Thanks to the 9 de julio holiday, we had a three-day weekend— plenty of time to travel to Córdoba, which is just a short 10-hour bus ride away.  Often referred to as the "culture capital," Argentina's second largest city is home to several universities, fancy Jesuit architecture and some impressive museums, or so I hear.  While most of you would expect to find me on a culture tour de force, you must remember that I was traveling with a group and was happy to relinquish my plans to the collective will.

We spent just a single hour touring the actually city of Córdoba and instead sought greener pastures in the surrounding sierras.  And I must say, it couldn't have been a better vacation.

Whether we were motorboating in Villa Carlos Paz...

Riding in boats with boys

Enjoying a family dinner at the hostel...

With wine, of course

Hiking in La Cumbrecita...

Let's hope I don't fall off any mountains

Admiring the Sierras of Córdoba

We found the cemetery from Zelda— or so Wade claimed

Pretending we're in Alemania at Villa General Belgrano...

Finally some quality cerveza

If it weren't for the flags, I would have started saying Guten tag

Did I mention that we were there during the chocolate festival?

Taking a one-hour stroll through the city of Córdoba...

Converted church, lovely

Walking triumphantly off into the sunset— er, sunrise

'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.

'Bitter like life'

When half the classes you teach take place between the hours of 8:30 a.m. and noon, the topic of coffee is bound to come up at some point.  In many offices, espresso vending machines serve up just about every Argentine hot drink you can imagine: cafe con leche (coffee with milk), cafe cortado (small shot of coffee with a touch of milk), lagrima (hot milk with just a "teardrop" of coffee), cappuccino, tea with lemon, hot chocolate, etc.

"Cafe con Leche" by Reina Resto

Overall I find Argentina's coffee quality disappointing— a sin considering that the country is a next-door neighbor to Brazil and on the same continent as Colombia.  But for some reason, I love these vending-machine brews that pop out at the perfect temperature with just the right amount of caffeinated fluff on top to soothe your taste buds into the sweet-but-not-sugared, bold flavor.

My students, who mostly take their coffee with at least a little milk or sugar, were surprised to learn that despite my sweet and chipper personality (laugh if you must, but I actually am a rather peppy teacher), I like my coffee plain and dark, or simply, cafe solo.  To drive this point home, I even recounted a long-running family anecdote.  My Aunt Natalie, who would love lagrimas, once quipped that her coffee was, "light and sweet just like me," to which I replied, "That makes sense.  Mine is dark and bitter."

The students enjoyed this story enough that they took it upon themselves to teach me a little Argentine Spanish.  When ordering a plain coffee with no milk or sugar, one can say, "Amargo como la vida," or "Bitter like life."

And now it's my new favorite catchphrase.  I still haven't worked up the courage to actually say it when ordering for fear that the barista will A. not understand, forcing me to repeat myself and causing my Spanish-speaking confidence to drop faster than the peso's value or B. cock a dark eyebrow, chuckle and then begin talking to her coworkers in rapid-fire castellano about the crazy gringa.  After all, wouldn't you laugh if someone said they took their coffee bitter like life?

In the meantime I'm content to share this wonderful phrase with other expats, who find it as entertaining as I do.  One of my friends even asked, "So can you order coffee dulce como la vida if you like it sweet?"  We all glanced at each other, considering the possibility.  The quick, unanimous answer: Nah!

It's not like we're in Italy.