las clases de espanol

Hola! It is saturday morning and I got to sleep in after my first week of intensive spanish classes. My class goes Monday-Friday for four hours a day. This, plus lots of homework, has already helped to improve my spanish. It's amazing how much information can be crammed into a brain in one week!
The only problem is, now I can't speak French. Anne-e speaks French too, so we speak together all the time (especially when we want to talk about weird people on the subway). But now my French is coming out as some crazy amalgam of the two languages. Just great.
I have also been finding my niche in the tango scene. At first, I was disconcerted by the enormousness of it. I didn't know where to go and found myself in a giant tango hall, among 100 other people trying to learn the tango. Finally I have found an actual tango school downtown that i like, so I will probably be going there from now on.
We went last night to see Mercedes Sosa. If you have not heard her music, you must get it. She is an older lady now, but her voice is still just as powerful, and was even more so in concert. It was fantastic.
My spanish school is closed for two weeks for the holidays (it soo does not feel like Christmas here at 90 degrees!) so Anne-e and I might try to get a bus ticket to Mendoza, the wine country.
Happy Holidays and love and hugs to everyone!

new things

Here are some photos of my new house in Buenos Aires. Also, my new tango shoes. I love them so...

My Address here is:

Pasaje Russell 4955
Buenos Aires
Argentina

Grandma Lauren

So today I was riding in a cab. As I mentioned, I enjoy talking with the drivers as they have all been so kind. This particular man passed a photo back of an adorable little girl and said, "mi nieta linda." I agreed, passing the photo back to him, I said, "Yo tambien. Tengo una nieta." He looked surprised and said, "Es impossible!" I said, "Si, Tengo una nieta y un nieto." Then he asked how old I was and I said 28. He said "nieta" was "la hija de mi hija". That's when I realized I had said, with much conviction, that I had both a granddaughter and a grandson. He laughed hysterically and I said I meant the kids of my brother. That would be, "sobrina y sobrino". Apparently I am learning Spanish the hard way, via complete humiliation.

Uruguay

We spent the past two days in a small town in Uruguay, Colonia del Sacramento. The town is across the Rio de la Plata from Buenos Aires, only a one hour boat trip. Declared by UNESCO as a world heritage site, the town has a city gate and wooden drawbridge, a lighthouse and convent ruins and old, cobblestone streets. It was very peaceful and quiant. Everyone in town rides old scooters and mopeds, like the one I have in San Francisco (a 1979 Motobecane). I really wanted to rent one, which you could do for $10 for the day, but I decided those streets were not exactly conducive to moped riding (or walking, even) and that it would end up being a real pain in the ass.
Nevertheless, entire families took to riding the streets, piling onto their mopeds and just hoping the little ones would hold on tight! I am not kidding. There were two year-olds just riding on the back of Dad's moped, barely able to get their short little arms around the sides of his back. And not a helmet in sight. Except for one dorky American couple we kept seeing riding about. Helmets may save your life, but they sure do look silly! Unfortunately, I did not get a decent shot of the families on mopeds. I felt kind of rude blatantly snapping photos of them.
Antique cars were ubiquitous as well.
Like Argentines, Uruguayans are the kindest people I have ever encountered. They actually walk up to you if you seem lost and ask how they can help. I have also had countless discussions (in espanol!) with taxi drivers in Buenos Aires. They are so helpful and friendly and genuinely curious about you. Of course, they could have easily been saying with a kind smile, "Ha! You don't understand a word I am saying, do you? What an idiot!" That would be when I glance confusedly at Anne-e and say, "Did you get that? Hmm, I didn't get that part.." then I look back at the cabbie in the rearview mirror and say, "Si, claro."
Tonight is tango. My first milonga in Buenos Aires. A milonga is a traditional tango dance party. They usually start around 11 am and go until about 5 am. Which is not unusual for here, as dinner time is not before 10! Anne-e and I are not accustomed to this. By 8 we are hungry. By 9 we are salivating and by 10 we head to dinner, always to be the first people to arrive.
We found a place to live! We each rented rooms in a shared house in Palermo, a really great neighborhood, close to everything. The girl we are renting from is Argentinian and very nice, so we are really looking forward to speaking Spanish at home. Now that we know where we are living, we are going to sign up for our classes, which we are both eager to begin.
So tango. I derail a lot...so we met these guys on the boat back from Uruguay, two Americans, who are living in Buenos Aires and one of them plays Flamenco guitar, which Anne-e wants to learn now. So we are going to tango class tonight with them, since they have never done it and were interested in trying it. Anne-e probably won't dance because she has two left feet (she says that, not me!) but maybe she will watch and write a book about it.
More next week, luvas. And I will post my new address in case anyone wants to send me something I can't get here like antibacterial soap, or cough suppressant or ass wipes. Seriously, the tiolet paper here is like tree bark.

First days..

Anne-e and I arrived in Buenos Aires early Wednesday morning. Our first welcome was the kind taxi driver who overcharged us and made us walk a mile with our luggage to his car. Then we arrived at our temporary apartment, which is beautiful and enormous. (See photo) The downside is that we quickly realized we had roommates. Shiny ones. The ones they wrote that La Cookooracha song about. Since Wednesday we have spent most of our time exploring the city and trying to figure out what the f*#@! people are saying. The first indication that I am currently far from proficient in Spanish goes like this: We went into a store. The saleswoman approached and began to say something. “What is she saying?” I am thinking to myself, starting to panic. I am staring at her, what is she saying, why is she speaking so fast? I must have looked like an...American. She repeated herself twice in Spanish, but one of the following made her finally switch to English:

a) The look of puzzlement (or sheer terror) on my face gave her a smidgen of empathy for the retarded tourist.

b) She had many other things to do that day.

c) She wanted to prove she was better than me.

In retrospect, I imagine it was option a.

“How are you?" She said. I guess those few months of Spanish classes at Pima College did not pay off after all. Still, if I ever need to say such phrases as: “The beefsteak of Roberto is very tender.” Or, “This lobster is juicy and delicious and the salad of tomato is fresh.” I will be just fine..

The plan is to first find a permanent apartment. Then we will be starting Spanish classes as soon as possible. We are considering 20 hours of instruction per week. It is quite amazing how much Spanish I have managed to pick up in the few days I have been here. Very few people speak English and therefore I have been forced to use Spanish.
I am also gearing up for the Tango scene. I hope to be on Dancing with the Stars next year!
That’s all for today. More later. Love you all and miss you tremendously.