Crickets, Birds and Flyfishing

Tom and I woke up early this morning.  There was some sort of chirping noise that wouldn’t stop.

A smoke detector?  An alarm clark?  The microwave? He got up to investigate.

It turned out to be crickets outside.  This surprises the heck out of me.  I mean, we live on the seventh floor (8th technically, as they count the ground floor as “0″) right in the middle of a city of 12 million people.  How could we hear crickets?  But there they were.

A bit later, I heard the birds singing.  There are trees in the lots behind us–though they aren’t seven stories tall.  The happy sound of birds floats up to our windows.  It’s nice.

I’ve got spring fever–BAD.  We had the coldest day of the year here over the weekend (down to about 30 degrees F) but the next day, it was positively balmy.  We’ve been basking in the sun and 70-ish temps the rest of the week.  There are still a few weeks of winter left, but since we STILL have no heat in our apartment (don’t ask) this change of weather has been cause for celebration.

We’re meeting some interesting people here–and I’m always surprised by something.  The people who own our laundry place just down the street are Japanese.  Katsuo and Sumiko are a pleasant 60-ish couple who look (and are)totally Japanese but they speak only Spanish, as both arrived here when they were very young.  Last night, Tom and I checked out a restaurant just around the corner from us, called Yamashita.  It was very charming inside, felt very familiar and we were thrilled to read the menu and see that many of our favorites are available there.  We were disappointed that the waitress spoke no Japanese (or English, for that matter)–only Spanish.  But as we left, an older woman, the owner I presume, came out to greet and thank us in Japanese.  Fun! We will be regulars there.

Yesterday we all went out to lunch at a Chinese restaurant.  Talya joined us during her lunch break and brought her best friend, Anoush.  Anoush is Armenian but was born here.  We had fun talking.  Talya’s other best friend is Alan, a half-American Argentine.  She’ll bring him to lunch next week.

Teal made a new friend–Monica.  She is one of only a dozen Argentines just recently evacuated from Lebanon. Her dad is Lebanese, mom is Argentine.  Monica’s brother is in Talya’s class at school. Monica is 16, graduated early from high school, had to leave her friends without saying goodbye or bringing anything with her, and basically she is bored out of her brain and depressed about leaving her home.  Perfect fit for Teal! Actually, it IS perfect as they have free time, no built-in structure for making friends (at least until school starts in September for Teal) and they’re looking for someone who understands what they are going through. 

 Yesterday I went to the hair salon.  I am trying to deal with this frump factor I’ve got goin’ on.    While sitting there, I struck up a conversation with the woman next to me.  Florencia has five kids (!), teaches tango, and her boyfriend is a flyfishing instructor/coach/guide.  Interesting!  We will go out for coffee soon.

Our building manager is Roberto.  He is from Paraguay.  He lives upstairs with his wife Rosa and their eight-year-old son, Rodrigo.  Roberto and Tom are having fun teaching each other words and making jokes in the other’s language.

Every day, we meet someone interesting.  Each day, we find a new coffee shop or new corner of our neighborhood that delights–a park, a cool building, an interesting house. We love it here.

The jasmine is blooming.

Happy Spring! (okay, even if it’s false…I can believe, can’t I?)

On Cuba…on Cuba

I’m living on Cuba Street here in Buenos Aires, in the same neighborhood in which Che Guevara grew up.  There’s a great deal of admiration for Che here, not surprisingly, and a fair amount of emotion tied up with Cuba and Castro.

Cuba has been on my mind a lot this week, what with the news of Castro’s ill health and all.  We stopped by our furniture place and talked to Hovannes, the Armenian owner.  We asked how he was doing, and he said, “Mal”–bad.  Why?  Because of the news about Castro.  As he put it, it touches him in the heart, like wearing a badge.

Last night, we rented “The Motorcycle Diaries” about Che’s trip through Latin America in the 50s and his awakening, his opening regarding his passion for helping those who are suffering from injustice. I’d seen the movie before, but it seemed more relevant watching it in my Buenos Aires living room on Cuba Street.

Every newspaper here features photos of Castro with Chavez (Venezuealan president) at his bedside.  Both Castro and Chavez are viewed as heroes here, not in terms of what they’ve actually done in their countries but simply for the fact that they stand firm against the U.S. and boldly band together. 

It’s not that people here in general hate the U.S.–it has nothing to do with loving or hating Yanquis as individuals (we are not referred to as Americans here because obviously we don’t have the right to claim that title for ourselves).  Instead, it’s about seeing the world as a place with room for plenty of different approaches, different ideologies, different values. Here, they’ve seen what can happen when those in power go unchecked, and they don’t like what they see as a relentless campaign by the U.S. government to have it their way with the whole frickin’ world.

Point taken.  We get that. And a big part of living abroad is being open to hearing all kinds of views of the place you (at least, at some point) considered home. We’re no strangers to this, but it’s changed over the years. 

Back in the 80s, we were living in Japan, where we as Americans were put on a pedestal, sought out, admired, emulated, adored. It makes me uncomfortable living in a place where my American behind is kissed.  I much prefer to be with those who have their eyes wide open and can see my native country warts and all.  If the warts seem particularly grotesque these days, it’s only because people are willing to look at them and do a fair bit of picking.  Wart-picking for the sake of better understanding is a good thing in my book, especially if the picker is enthusiastically picking the warts of his/her own country as well.

There is a palpable sense of attention here about the changes taking place in Latin America (especially with the strengthening of the Mercosur nations recently) and an underlying optimism about the emergence of greater economic power as well as a redefined and reinvigorated national identity.  Things are happening. 

And Che comes alive these days, his idealism remembered, his roots celebrated.

Since I’m not viewing Cuba from my parents’ Bay-of-Pigs perspective, it’s a lot easier to join in the sense of cautious optimism and excitement about the changes in the years ahead.

I’m glad to be here on Cuba Street, where it’s impossible to forget about rethinking and revolution. 

Blank Walls and Time Capsules

Well, well, well. 

I missed sending out the Friday Mind Massage for the first time EVER last week. 

Why didn’t I send it?  A variety of reasons, but mostly because even though I’d already written it, our internet access (a borrowed wireless connection) in our temporary apartment went out, and on Thursday we moved to our brand new place, which did not yet have internet access. 

Sure, I could’ve gone to an internet café and loaded it up and sent it out.  But there’s also this process of moving which is quite a bit bigger than most moves.  Well, not bigger.  Just different.

You see, usually when you move, it’s a matter of getting your stuff from Point A to Point B and then unpacking and organizing everything.  In our case, since we moved to Buenos Aires with nothing but a couple of suitcases (one for clothes, one for work or school stuff each) we had absolutely no furniture, wall hangings, kitchen stuff. 

Nothing at all.  Nada.

Oh, we did get electricity hooked up.  And gas.  And yes, the heat was turned on but apparently the floor heat doesn’t work unless the person living below us turns on their ceiling heat…and nobody lives below us and won’t for at least two weeks. 

So, the first weekend in our new place was cold….with three area rugs we purchased (after taking taxis and subways all over town) and nothing else.  We sat on the floor wearing all of our clothes at once.

We went out and bought a TV and DVD player.  The DVD player didn’t work and had to be taken back and a new one selected. (Remember, this is all in Spanish, which we do not speak well at all.)We had the refrigerator delivered, and the microwave.  Hmmm.  Just needed to buy food.  And dishes.  And silverware.  And pots and pans.  And knives.  And spices and staples.  And absolutely everything that goes into a kitchen.

Did I mention that we don’t have a car?  Public transportation is easy and cheap here, and we are happy to be carless.  However, outfitting a house takes a number of trips to a number of places, and we have to be creative and organized about getting what we need.

Yes, we have mattresses on the floor.  We have sheets and comforters.  We are waiting for our bed frames and nightstands to be delivered—probably next week.

The sofa, coffee table, dining set?  Yeah, they were supposed to be delivered on August 1^st.  We specifically picked that particular furniture place because they promised—on July 20^th—that they could have everything delivered in fifteen days.  We waited all day Saturday for the second promise of delivery.  Now we are told we MAY get our stuff in another week…or two. 

The walls?  Completely blank.  Not a single photo or wall hanging.

You might ask why we didn’t bring more stuff with us.  Well, when we moved to Mexico a year ago (ONLY a year ago this month!) we did bring a few things—wall hangings, knick knacks, some photos, even a little ziplock bag full of Christmas ornaments. But when we started planning our move to Buenos Aires, we first headed to Oregon for a quick visit and while we were there, we decided it would be better to store things in our small storage unit (five feet by five feet) instead of bringing it all down to Buenos Aires.  After all, we had no idea how long we would stay, what kind of place we would live in (though we imagined it would be a fully furnished rental like in Mexico) or even if we would like it there.  And we didn’t think we’d be moving BACK to the States anytime soon—we’re more likely to head to Europe or Africa after our stint in Argentina. 

And frankly, the day we were putting stuff into storage in Oregon, our kids were off with their friends.  Tom and I were tired of hauling stuff around and just decided we’d stick it all in storage for now.  So we did.  We could always have someone go in and put together a small box and send it to us later if we really, really missed something. 

We view the storage unit as a sort of time capsule.  I mean, I don’t know if we’re going to need any of that stuff, but it’s full of memories and for $30 a month, we can afford to store them until we figure out where we might land and for how long.  It’s kind of nice knowing that there is just a little bit of stuff there—you could fit it all in one SUV easily. 

Our kids aren’t likely to be moving back to the States in the foreseeable future, but neither are they likely to want to haul around their childhood stuffed animals and photos through college and beyond—on various continents. 

I have to confess that our kids were pretty upset at first that we did not bring wall stuff or Christmas ornaments.  “WHAT?!!!!  How will we have a home without THAT stuff????”

We told them we’d all go to a cabin in beautiful southern Argentina for Christmas anyway, and we promised to make it a fun and Christmasy holiday for everyone.  They’re fine with that.

As it turns out, we could certainly use some of the things we left behind.  But that’s….old stuff.  Most of our art is from previous years living and traveling in Asia…and it reflects that particular period of our lives.  That’s…..old.  Besides, we are thinking we’ll live here for three years (until Talya graduates from high school) and then rent out this apartment or leverage it in a house-swap with someone on another continent.  We won’t want our precious things on the walls then—we’d have to store them someplace!  And having storage units scattered around the globe would be pretty ridiculous. Better to recycle it and let someone else use it.

We’re realizing that stepping away from what is “old” is only momentarily painful.  That sense of loss is quickly replaced by a new excitement about the possibilities of having a blank slate.  Teal complained that there is nothing HER about her room yet—but now she is tweaking family/friend photos on the computer and will get them printed out nearby and hang them from wires strung from one wall to another.  It will be a gallery that can be changed in seconds.  We’re doing the same thing on another wall in the main living area.

I like this idea.  I think that what we put on our walls to inspire and nurture us SHOULD change over the years.  As much as I love my Japanese scrolls and Indian paintings, I see that I have been hauling them from house to house as a way of hanging on to my old life.

I don’t need to hang on to it.  It’s in my head, my heart, my soul.  It’s a part of me, and there is room for much, much more if I make space for it. 

I’m making space for it. 

What will I put on the walls here?  Local art.  Fun stuff.  Whatever we find HERE that represents our lives HERE. 

Traveling light means you sometimes have to start from scratch, sitting on the floors and looking at blank walls. But, wow, what an opportunity to be creative!

I’ll take more of THAT and less in the way of boxes every time.

Talya and Teal with a Dancing Empanada…

Hailstones, Dancing Empanadas and David Cassidy

You just never know what the day will bring. 

It’s been an interesting week or so here in Buenos Aires.  First off, there was a freak hailstorm. It lasted for over 20 minutes and was the most severe hailstorm in 40 years, with hailstones the size of plums pummeling cars and shattering thousands of windows.  Nearly every car we see has round dents all over the roof and hood.  Over a thousand taxis were damaged, and there were actual head injuries reported!  It was quite exciting. Big $$$ for those who happen to be in the auto repair/glass businesses!

We moved to our second temporary apartment.  This one is a large loft, very modern, decorated all in black and white.  It’s in a huge converted cotton factory with an actual park (with trees and grass, pool, courtyard, and restaurant) on the top floor.  The neighborhood is Palermo Hollywood, and it’s an up-and-coming area but still a little sketchy in spots. 

There are some fantastic restaurants nearby.  We’ve been going out for lunch and/or dinner every day.  We’ve been working our way through the guidebook recommendations, and there’s a place called Green Bamboo that we’ve been wanting to try.  The first time we tried going there, we arrived (typically) too early–yes, it was 9:30 pm and they were not open yet.  We ended up going to another place nearby, called Mandarin, where we had a great Caesar salad and sushi (go figure).  The best part was the waiter, a Peruvian named Christian Bell-Taylor Branson.  He’s studying to be a sommelier, and told us a lot about Argentina’s wines.  He speaks great English as his grandparents are from England. 

Last night, we tried to go to Green Bamboo again.  This time, it was packed, so the woman there told us to try another nearby place called Bangalore.  It turned out to be a full-on English pub on the main floor with a tiny but packed second floor serving up some killer dal and chapatis.  We still haven’t eaten at Green Bamboo, but we made a reservation for Friday night.  Or hey, maybe we’ll just stop by and see what else they can recommend.

We’ve been doing things like order beds, order internet, buy school supplies for Talya, and a lot of other errands.  Each errand goes like this:  a) go into a store and ask for what we need, and b) go wherever they tell us to go because they don’t have what we need.  Repeat several times. In Spanish.  Generally in very crowded stores.  Yes, it is humbling and a little frustrating.

But then, there are those moments when you have to laugh out loud.  We came out of one particular shop (we’d just ordered our refrigerator and microwave and arranged for them to be delivered–in Spanish) and walked right into a mini-parade of–and I am not making this up–people wearing empanada costumes.  Or, I think they were people.  All I could see was a big foam empanada with black arms and legs and a big grin. 

Teal was the first one out of the store and the minute she glimpsed the dancing empanadas, she made a bee-line for the opposite direction.  We all started laughing at how she should face her fear of empanadas and go right up to them.  She ended up going back and posing for a photo with one of the friendliest empanadas, along with Talya. 

There was a huge long line of people waiting to get into a music store. Turns out they were buying tickets for the Robbie Williams concert coming here in October.  They were there for hours, chatting amiably every time we walked past them on our various errands.

There is a child who lives in the apartment next to our loft.  I have not actually seen this child, but I have dubbed him “Damien” for surely he is the spawn of the devil.  He shrieks like none other.  The first night we were here, he started in around 3 am.  I was thinking this could be a very long ten days in this apartment.  As it turns out, it was his birthday and knowing how kids get after a marathon birthday celebration, I cut him some slack.  He hasn’t been quite as vocal the last few nights, though it seems he hates having a bath, and their bathroom is right next to our bedroom wall.  Fortunately, his bath schedule seems to be about once every three days.

We’ve been watching television quite a bit.  I know, I know.  Well, it’s cold outside. And we have comfortable couches for the first time in a year.  So, hey, we are enjoying it.  And watching a little VH1 to laugh at the 80s?  Hoo-boy.  Fun times.  I am having a hard time convincing the girls that yes, people really did wear their hair like that and no, we didn’t find it particularly hilarious at the time.  They just can’t believe it.  But then, I point out that people here have crazy hair and don’t seem to notice, and they can’t argue with that.

Last week, I mentioned that the haircuts here are like The Brady Bunch, the later years.  Well, it’s really more like The Partridge Family–specifically David Cassidy.  Now, I have to confess that at that time, I loved David Cassidy.  I mean, who didn’t?  Those dimples!  That smile!  That hair!  The way he sang “I Think I Love You” of “I Woke Up In Love This Morning”!  Of course, I was about 12 at the time, and used my mom’s weekly trips to the grocery store as my opportunity to stand in the magazine aisle devouring the latest “Tiger Beat” issue. 

Actually, I was in Oregon recently and as we were heading toward Newport, I saw a billboard advertising David Cassidy as the featured guest at a nearby casino.  But that couldn’t POSSIBLY be MY David Cassidy, could it?  I mean, the guy on the billboard looked so….normal.  Just another 40-something guy (or, wow, maybe 50-something?).  He was smiling grimly, not showing his teeth.  David, David, David.  It’s come to this.  Well, he still has hair. 

Stupid moment of the day:  Hmm, there are so many.  I’m still on the five-stupid-moments-before-lunch plan.  Here’s one from this afternoon:  going to the bank at 3:30 this afternoon and expecting it to be open.  Ha!  Silly me.  They close at 3:00.  The guard inside kept saying something about three, and I’m thinking, three people at a time?  Three more minutes?  Three times a lady?  He seemed quite perturbed by my confusion.  I figured it out, but not before embarrassing myself by trying to open the locked glass door and having an inner alarm go off inside the bank, causing all employees to look at me. 

And, yes, that was just ONE of my stupid moments. The funny thing about mindfulness is that you just can’t be mindful of all things at the same time.  So, I can, say, be paying close attention to things like the fact that it was the right bank in which to pay my daughter’s tuition, it was the right day to pay my daughter’s tuition, I had the invoice in my hand, and walked into the appropriate bank to perform this particular errand. The lights were on.  There were people in the bank. The guard was looking at me (I thought this was a good sign….) So, there you go.  You can be paying attention, and still mess up.  But you learn a lot more along the way.

Oh, and here’s another one:  While having coffee and desserts at a cute little shop, I went upstairs to use the restroom (they are always upstairs).  There are two doors:  one marked M, and one marked H.  Now, I know that M here stands for Mujeres (Women) and H stands for Hombres (Men). I mean, I KNOW that.  But, well, of course I started into the H one because I saw the M one first (M is for MEN, right?).  I caught myself before actually going in.  Several people noticed and smiled.  Well, I consider it my duty to make people smile.  I’m getting so good at it here.

That’s all for now.  It’s time to watch some silly television.  Perhaps I’ll learn some new tricks so I can make MORE people smile tomorrow.  It appears my work is never done.

Another common question: How come you don’t have any photos of your family? Here’s a recent one, taken in Mexico…

Welcome to my new blog!

We arrived in Buenos Aires, Argentina on July 4th, 2006.  A month later, we’ve purchased an apartment in the lovely neighborhood of Belgrano, enrolled our youngest daughter in an outstanding international school, and traipsed all over the city to explore our new place. 

Here’s what everyone asks: 

Why did you leave the United States? 

Why did you go to Mexico? 

Why did you THEN go to Argentina?

We’re not running away from the law or anything.    We’ve been wanting to live abroad again (my husband and I actually met in rural Japan, where we lived for five years) for a long time, and despite what everyone says about it ruining your children’s lives if you move while they are in the middle of high school, we decided to do it anyway.  We wanted this to be an experience we shared with our kids.  Fortunately, they agreed (with some coaxing) and on most days, they are happy with the adventure we’re all having.

Is it easy?  No.  We make tons of mistakes every day.  We are far, far from fluent in Spanish…in fact, we are beginners.  But we sold two homes, two cars, all of our belongings and headed south KNOWING it wouldn’t be easy. 

The first year, we started fairly close to the U.S.–we went to Mazatlan, Mexico.  We’d been there on vacation, and loved the historic area (away from the resorts and fast food chains of the north) and rented a lovely apartment with a courtyard just four blocks from the ocean. 

It was a fun year, full of laughter and happy memories, but we were ready for a bigger challenge–a bigger city, more offerings, and especially a more rigorous school for our youngest daughter, Talya, who is a sophomore in high school.  She went to an all Spanish-speaking private high school in Mazatlan, and it was great for learning the language and culture…but not challenging in terms of academics. (And I want to emphasize that I am far from being one of those parents who is always complaining about their children’s schools…I’ve been thrilled with every one, but, well, this was a bit of a stretch….)

So, despite the fact that we loved the charm and friendliness of Mazatlan, we headed for Buenos Aires (Talya’s choice!)…a bustling city of nearly 12 million people.
What a change!  Buenos Aires is very sophisticated, very European.  There are tons of museums, parks, galleries plus every kind of restaurant imaginable (we’ve had Middle Eastern food, Japanese, Hungarian, Thai, Vietnamese, and Chinese–in Chinatown!–and there is fantastic Italian food on nearly every corner)….  There is tremendous interest in design here, and a great deal of building going on.  The economy, which basically crashed and burned just a few years ago, is becoming more stable every month, and many people are investing in real estate here.  Prices are extremely reasonable compared to similar offerings in large cities in the United States.  We bought a brand new three bedroom, two bathroom apartment with radiant heat under the hardwoods, top of the line Italian appliances and fixtures, and tons of light in a great neighborhood–for $135,000 US (cash).  Something like this would go for at least $600,000 in Portland’s Pearl District.

But mostly, we bought a place because we plan to live here until Talya graduates…three years or so.  We could rent, but we’re not afraid to invest here and live in a lovely place.  We can rent out our apartment after we move, or leverage it in a house-swap arrangement while living in some other wonderful place! 

So, what do we do all day?  Well…..when not exploring or eating or exploring or eating, we actually work.

My husband runs his company online.  I do my thing online.  We stay in touch with our two oldest daughters daily online–Tara, 18, is studying in Europe this summer before entering college in New Brunswick in the fall, Taeko, 20, graduated from college in April and has been traveling through Central America. She’ll be joining us in Buenos Aires for a few weeks before heading to the Democratic Republic of the Congo to do some humanitarian stuff.

Teal, our 16-year-old, spent last year as a Rotary Exchange student in Brasil.  Now she’s with us in Buenos Aires, where she will take online college courses to complete the last bit of high school requirements and gain credits that will transfer to her chosen college in the fall of 2007.  She’s looking into taking Spanish through the University of Belgrano in our new neighborhood, and she’ll work part-time for Tom, be our cook and basically spend the year studying, earning money, and connecting with interesting people here in Buenos Aires.  It’s her last year at home with us, and we are hoping it is as wonderful as last year was with Tara–who, let it be said, was NOT thrilled about missing her senior year of high school but ended up having a fantastic experience with us in Mazatlan….

So…that’s the story.  We’re here because we want to be here.  We came because we thought it would be fun.  It’s funny that people are so confused by our choice to move.  I mean, people move all the time because of their jobs…we are moving because, well, we CAN.  We feel very lucky to have this opportunity, and just can’t think of any reason why we shouldn’t do this.  The benefits far, far outweigh any difficulties.

At least, on most days….. 

That’s what this blog is all about— Good times.  Frustrating times.  And a whole lot of learning going on….

Thanks for joining me on this adventure!