Had my last day of History class on Thursday, finally. And what do we do? Watch a documentary that I already watched in my ethics class. Oh well. Speaking of ethics, just finished working on our final paper on the Philosophy of Liberation according to Enrique Dussel for my ética y política class. Do some perusing on some Dussel works then give me a thorough analysis of his contributions to the ethical/philosophical world then tie it into a specific case study of the Guarani people of Northern Argentina. Then do it in Spanish. I hope I don't sound like I'm complaining too much about it. Maggie and I treated ourselves to some DELICIOUS Arabic delivery food during our diligent 8 hour jam sesh tonight. Complete with hummus, pita, grape leave things, tabuli (a great salad substitute or picnic snack!), and a half Citric/soda water combo beverage etc.:
YUM.
Anyways, on my walk back from History on Thursday something happened to me that I realize happens with some sense of frequency in my walks here in Córdoba. Something caught my eye in a window in a shop, I walked in and ended up having a good 30 minute conversation with the person that worked there. This has happened at random little shops, book stores, and more recently (as in Thursdays case) an art store/home store/ framing place/ etc etc.
I walked by and saw a print of Gustav Klimt piece I really like so I decided to walk in and take a look.
Enter, look at the piece, ask homie how much it costs (knowing theres no chance I'm bringing this huge framed thing home with me) and then SURPRISE- he asks me where I'm from because of my accent. Then we start talking about art, and he had all these cool books to show me (some from CALIFORNIA OHhohhoooooo haha). Then from art, we jump to talking about San Francisco, then Córdoba, then "weren't you afraid to move here ALL BY YOURSELF" then "what are you studying??", then...some how we end up talking about the 70s military dictatorship in Argentina, then political corruption in general. These conversations are not only great for my Spanish, but generally tend to be really interesting. And so very representative of Argentina. I feel like I can go in somewhere and easily strike up conversation and people are so willing to keep that convo flame keep burning. I mean after 30 minutes, I knew this guys family involvement in the 70s military government, his political views, his favorite artists, and thoughts on many other things. And hes not atypical. Argentines, for the most part (I understand this could be a hasty generalization) and at least the ones I've encountered, are always interested in getting to know you and getting you to know them. Something I really love about living here is the friendly vibe I get from the people. I'm sure this is a "give some, get some idea". If I hadn't walked into that art store, or never strolled by that used book store or started up a conversation with the girl that bagged my groceries, I would've never known what they thought, where they're from, what they think etc. For that reason, I try to open up when I can and realize that people always have something to say, especially Argentines. I think I should try doing this in San Francisco.
Thursday night, after my nice convo with Edgardo (art store man) and a hearty 4 hour nap, made homemade vegetable lasagna. I miss my mom's lasagna.
Check out them layers:
Ekaitz, Asier, and Tim all really enjoyed it, of course.
Mid enjoyment smiles:
Friday night, my friends Lucio and Charlie played at a bar in Nueva Córdoba (thats my neighborhood). Lucio and Charlie are two Argentine brothers, and were some of my first friends when I arrived here. They've taken me to their "campo" (farm) and have really awesome parents (who I saw last night at their show) Anyways. They are really talented musicians and it was nice to see them do their thing, accompanied by a really impressive drummer, a adorable petite Argentine girl with a really nice voice, and an ever so endearing musician who played the flute, a wooden noise thing, the yukilalee (how do you spell that word?) and some other percussion instrument. Afterwords, we went to a hip-hop club called RANDOM. Complete with Pacman machines, graffiti'd walls, and special appearance by FREAK STAILERS- two charming, rainbow mohawk wig wearing, flaco DJS. A different vibe then other places I've been. First time I've heard michael jackson in a club.
And that brings to today. Which you already know...was spent simultaneously writing an ethics paper and mildly going crazy as a result.
Here some pics to leave you with, the fire at my house a few weeks ago:
And so good night.
Un beso,
Tere
ukulele.
ReplyDeletethat's awesome about how friendly and eager to get to know you people are there. making me regret going to hungary, where it's (generalization) pretty much the opposite. especially people bagging your groceries. they fucking hate you.