The last 11 days in Buenos Aires have flown by in a mad whirlwind of excitement, confusion and utter exhaustion. When I first stepped inside the apartment building where I’d be living, my host mother embraced me with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek, which I soon learned was a typical Argentinean greeting. One of the first differences I noticed (other than everyone speaking Spanish) was the elevators. One has to manually open and close two different doors to enter and exit the tiny chamber. Sadly, I still find myself standing and waiting for the doors to slide open automatically, as everyone around looks at me with puzzled expressions, picking up on one of the many clues that I am American. And apparently, my foreign origins are extremely obvious, because everyone stares at me on the streets and most store clerks attempt to address me in English. One man even asked me to be a plastic surgery model, which was either a creepy compliment or a terrible insult.
The people here are extremely friendly, though, and always willing to help me out when I’m navigating my way through a store or searching for a bus stop. My program, IES, has done a pretty thorough job familiarizing us with local lingo and customs through daily orientation classes, though I would have rather spent more time learning by experience than in a classroom. We even received a handout instructing us on how to use typical hand signals that call the waiter, ask for the check, or order a cappuccino. Apparently, we Americans are known for communicating through facial expressions while Argentineans talk more with their hands.
Seeing as the Porteños (residents of the port city of Buenos Aires) operate on an extremely late schedule, waking up for 9:30 class has been a bit of a struggle. Dinner here is typically eaten anywhere from 9-11pm, and the nightclubs are almost vacant until 2 or 3am. Staying out until almost 5am every morning has left me utterly exhausted, though I am getting used to it and learning to how make use of naps and caffeine.
While I’m usually a bit groggy during the day, the nights have been fantastic. Quite unlike the Keg and Hundo, the boliches (nightclubs), host thousands of people from across the city under strobe lights and pumping music. And the male population here is a bit more … forward. They don’t seem to take rejection the same way American men do and will keep trying to dance with you and get your number despite claims that you have a boyfriend, are a lesbian, or are just plain not interested.
I’ve yet to really make any Argentinean friends and have found myself spending most of my time with other American students (many of whom are also from Northwestern.) But I hope that when I start classes, I’ll meet some true Argentineans who will give me a real taste of life in Buenos Aires.
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