RRT Part 1: Washington, D.C., also known as 'Little Argentina'

It's Sunday night, and I'm already five days into my Resume Road Trip (let's just call it RRT so it sounds more important and I can type less).  I've already completed the Washington, D.C., part of my tour as I type away here in my relatives' home just an hour outside of Philadelphia.  Tomorrow it's back to the job-hunting grind but for now let's catch up on the Capital.

It's a long escalator ride out of Dupont Circle

My admirable yet naive plan to set out at 0600 hours Wednesday morning to avoid traffic from Research Triangle Park and arrive just around lunchtime in D.C., was short-lived: my official departure was 9:46— whoops.  The five-hour drive north was pretty uneventful until I found myself on the wrong side of the Interstate 95 split— whoops again.  Somewhat arrogantly I assumed that six months commuting into the District made me knowledgeable enough to navigate find my way to Anne Arundel County.  You know they say about people who assume?  They end up in Southeast D.C.— giant whoops.  I think it's safe to say that I have a sketchball magnet lodged in my cranium.

 The first day of job hunting (Thursday) was idle and painful and delicious.  After being unceremoniously rejected by the Argentine Embassy (can someone explain why Argentines work at the U.S. Embassy in Argentina but Americans cannot work at the Argentine Embassy in the U.S.?), I caught the GUTS bus over to Georgetown University to meet a friend for lunch.  After some tasty Thai food, what do we come across?  Why no other than Argentine-style "gelato."  DolceZZa is a bit pricey, but the selection of about eight water-based flavors, which were the smoothest sorbets I've ever tasted were well worth it.  With flavors like "Avocado Honey Orange" (delicious, btw) and "Georgia Butter Pecan," I think DolceZZa easily blows Argentina's heladerias out of the water.  Ironically enough this location was right next to a street called Volta... tell me that's not bizarre.

Alfajores in America! Find them at DolceZZa

After foodie heaven, I had to come back to earth and face the fact that my lovely Enzo Angiolini ballet flats were hellbent on murdering my feet.  I hobbled back on the GUTS bus to Dupont Circle where I then met another friend for dinner (seeing a pattern?)  We were a bit dubious about an all-vegan restaurant, but Cafe Green served us deliciously rich food at a delightfully low price— hallelujah!  My vegan burger of lentils and beans was scrumptious and my friend was impressed with her veggie chili and humongous cornbread loaf.  Two years ago I had tried Cafe Green's sister store, Java Green, and left unimpressed.  Perhaps it deserves a second chance.

It was a good thing that I had no social engagements on Day 2 or it would have been just as unproductive.  Wearing several pirate band aids and my more comfortable ankle boots, I zoomed around D.C.: Arlington, Tenleytown and the Northwest quadrant.  With precious little time to dine, I ended up passing by the very spot I've been wanting to try.  Julia's Empanadas aren't Argentina-style per se— they're far too big— but my vegetarian one stuffed with collared greens and peppers was the perfect confluence of America del Sur and the American South.  According to the website, the vegetarian crust is made from butternut squash, which would explain the different consistency. 

At night they come alive and battle... or is that Night at the Museum?

The week finished with one of my favorite activities: Scaring my youngest cousin, who I like to call Twinkie Brain.  My cousin, his parents and I went to a haunted trail at a nearby farm.  While my aunt had a giant spider fall on her and Twink was repeatedly chased by Jason, Michael Meyers and a chainsaw-wielding Texan, I jumped and laughed the whole way through.  Too bad I'm still too yellow-bellied to watch Paranormal Activity.

The Resume Road Trip: A plan so half-baked I might get salmonella

Now that I'm back in the U.S., no one really cares that I can both speak English and teach it.  I might have have huffed and puffed about the process of getting a job in Buenos Aires, but at least opportunities existed and prospective employers were hiring.

Not quite the case back in the E.E.U.U.

Top off this predicament with the fact that I'm not sure whether to continue in the field of journalism or pursue another career.  Also, I'm not really sure where I want to live.  San Francisco and Austin, Texas, appeal to me the most of all U.S. cities, but unfortunately they're a good deal away from the family and friends I've just come home to.

So, in an attempt to A. figure out where I want to live B. figure out what I (sorta) want to do; and C. determine if those two can coexist, I've set out on a "Resume Road Trip." The tentative plan has me passing through D.C., Philadelphia and New York with possible stops in Baltimore and Boston depending on how exhausted I am.  It's kind of like doing a road test for the Find Your Spot quiz.

Although I have an idea of companies and places to check out, this trip is largely intuitive, not logical.  Armed with the latest copy of What Color Is Your Parachute?, a new cell phone and a suitcase full of interview clothes, let's see if this half-baked scheme can prove fruitful.

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

Café & Mate goes Stateside

Dear devoted blog readers (yes, I mean you, Kiersten, Aunt Roz and sometimes Dad),

I'm back in Los Estados Unidos!  Two weeks ago today I returned to the motherland dressed in my knit dress, leggings, boots and peacoat.  Obviously, I nearly passed out while exiting the airplane in Raleigh-Durham.  It was only about 95 degrees, which from what I hear, is nothing compared to the dog days of July (think triple digits).

Although I'm no longer in the faraway (and far-more-interesting-than-Cary) land of Argentina, I still have a few posts in queue that I feel should be posted at some point.  After that, I'm not quite sure what will become of the blog— at the very least, the "Café and Mate" title will have to go.

In the meantime, let me share some of my more shocking reverse-culture shock sentiments thus far:

1. The weather (duh).  I started telling people in Buenos Aires, that I'm like a migratory bird: the weather gets cold, and I switch hemispheres.
2. Cooking. Microwave?!  Oven with actual temperature-gauge?  I don't need matches to cook?
3. Communication.  You understand me?  And I don't even have to think about what I'm saying (please note: this could lead to problems)
4. Ethnic variety, woo!  Although the porteños consider themselves to be a heterogeneous bunch, that variety only pertains to the European continent.
5. Size variety, uh... After living in a country that has the second highest rate of anorexia in the world, it's a bit of a jolt to return to the land of Supersize Me.
6. Appreciation (looks).  This ties in with #5.  When you're 5'8", not model-thin and have short hair, the sidewalk appreciation in Argentina is usually limited to lewd remarks and catcalls from Quosimodo-like men.
7. Appreciation (employment). Unfortunately this change isn't in my favor.  Suddenly I'm just another kid with a bachelors degree— no one cares that I know what a countable noun is, and no one wants me to teach them English!
8. Transportation.  I have to drive to get everywhere?  No confiteria or chino mercado just across the street?
9. Specialty food.  I've returned to the land of specialty salads, soy substitutions and international cuisine.  Hallelujah!
10. Climate control.  This might be the last item on my list, but it deserves to be #1 in terms of importance.  Air-conditioning is better than sliced bread.

Día del Amigo

No, it's not a fake holiday invented by the greeting card companies (how could it be in a city that doesn't even have greeting cards?)  But ask any Argentine about Día del Amigo, or Friend's Day, and he's sure to tell detail his celebration plans.

Although this holiday doesn't involve a day off from work, locals become more excited over Día del Amigo than say their Independence Day or Flag Day.  Restaurants are notorious for booking up a month in advance and queues of the reservation-less can last for hours.  Many of my students either celebrated at home or postponed their plans for the weekend, leading us expats to proclaim it "Semana del Amigo" or Friend's Week.

The Argentines were surprised to learn that we don't celebrate Friend's Day in the United States, since it is, according to them, an international holiday that started after the first moon landing.  My friends and I were surprised by this too and decided to investigate.  It turns out Día del Amigo does come from the Apollo 11 mission, although it was an Argentine teacher named Enrique Febbraro who first lobbied to make it a holiday.  Febbraro maintained that on July 20, 1969, everyone was friends with the three astronauts, and the world was united.

A chocolate mousse cake makes Friend's Day even sweeter

According to the highly reputable Wikipedia, Día del Amigo is primarily celebrated in Uruguay, Brazil and Argentina.  But given the history, I'm surprised Hallmark hasn't jumped on the bandwagon.

As for me? I celebrated Friend's Day the way I celebrate every holiday: with sweets (and friends too!)

Nine days and eight cows later...

There's something surreal about hosting company when you live overseas.  Think about two television shows that have completely different plot lines until a crossover episode tosses story arcs, characters and setting into a giant salad bowl.  While the episode might be chaotic with no clear direction, it's a guilty pleasure to watch two worlds collide.  In a nutshell, that's what it's like to have family visit you in a foreign country.

As I was getting back into the swing of things with my own Argentine dramedy (or is this a sitcom?), students would ask about my recent sabbatical.  To keep it short and sweet: We ate; we went on day trips; we took a bus tour around the city; we ate; we went shopping at the outdoor ferias; and then we ate some more.  Seriously, we must have eaten a small herd before the trip was over.

Although my uncle called me "comandante" a few times (type-A tour guide), all three of my visitors enjoyed their time in Buenos Aires and our day trips to Uruguay and San Antonio de Areco.  My uncle even said I might have a future in the tourism industry... yeah, no!

Here's a little recap of our adventure:

Day 1: Of course my mom makes a beeline for the Recoleta Cemetery

Day 2: Visiting Jorge Luis Borges and Carlos Gardel in Cafe Tortoni

Day 2: Shouting "GOOOAL" in El Caminto

Day 3: Enjoying a long lunch in Colonia, Uruguay— just mind the bird bombs

Day 4: Posing with the Terminator Flower

Day 6: Forty years later and they can still find their house in Vicente Lopez

Day 7: In the quintessential gaucho town of San Antonio (this ones's for you Aunt Nati)

Day 8: Shopping in Palermo Soho was, of course, mandatory

Remembering a true adventurer

It's been weeks since my last post and I've got oodles of stories and pictures to share.  But before I get down to recapping, I'd like to dedicate a post to my grandfather, Don Duncan, who passed away just last week.

Generally people credit my travel bug and wanderlust to my mom's side of the family since she and her siblings grew up overseas.  And while the Sancho-side has been a great influence on me in this respect, I would be remiss if I didn't talk about my grandaddy and his influence on me.  

Whether he was exploring the Northwest wilderness or carving hiking sticks out of birch branches, my granddad was always up for an adventure.  As a child I remember marveling at the breadth of his knowledge— this being the man who showed me how to make hollyhock ladies, brought me back a handmade barrette from Alaska and taught me early on that taking a "prescription" of chocolate chips is the best cure for the blues.  As I grew older, I admired how despite all this expertise and experience, he still wanted to learn more.  It's a mindset that leads people to explore, take chances (say, move to Argentina?), make mistakes and keep moving forward.

My granddad lived to be 83, and I don't think he ever fell out of that mindset.  That's the mark of a true adventurer: one who never ceases to wonder at the world and all its workings.