Thoughts on El Día del Amigo -July 20th

<<¡Así... así... así me gusta a mi!>>

You cannot get mad at the at the pseudo-line to get into a club in Latin America... hey at least there is one!!! It is Monday, and the foreigner-friendly bar is packed by nine, a rather exceptional thing in Buenos Aires. We like the bar because its cheap. We won't get in, I say, today is El día del amigo. ¿El día del amigo? That's another capitalist invention for even more consumerism, She says. We get in. Everyone inside is so euphoric, so happy, so friendly. I finally make it to the bar to get a drink, the bartender does not see me. A girl next to me says, Che, give me your tickets I will order for you we tipped him, he serves us quicker. Ok here, tickets for 5 cheeseburgers and 2 $50 pitchers, thank you so much. Che sos la primera inteligente que comprá todo de una. She orders. Where are you from?, Mexico, I thought you were Colombian, Yeah I heard that one before. While I am waiting for our food we start talking to each other. I knew that one day I was going to meet a nice Porteña. As I am leaving, I say thank you once again she says Feliz día del amigo che. I hug her, I just felt like doing it, and said the same.

<<¡Qué bonito... qué bonito! Qué bonito que te vine a encontrar para que me ayudes a cantar...>>

Not everyone understands why am I here. Sometimes I don't understand it either. I rebuilt an entire new life in Toronto, my friends became my family. None of us celebrates thanks giving nor family day but we use them as an unnecessary excuse to get together as one big constructed family. After four years I realized that, as all things in life, our family will start melting little by little, everyone is going to start taking their own path. "We will all spend our last summer together" I said one of those sleepless night next to my best friend. We did not, I left. I miss them as I miss my family at home. I met new people, I am already planning our next encounter, it is never the same... comparisons cannot be made, normative judgements have no place. What is the thing that makes you happy Mariele? I said coffee, he laughed. I always drink coffee by myself when my mind get into an automatic over-philosophizing mode. I drink it when I write, when I read but I also use it as an excuse to spend more time with my friends who are my foreign family and my family who are my local friends. So you mean that loneliness and friendship make you happy? I like shoes too...

<<Es mentira... es mentira... es mentira la verdad>>

I know people change, I love change if not life would be static, boring, lifeless. I do not tolerate hypocrisy nor lies; hiding the truth is the same thing as lying, at least that is how I feel about it. She hurt me because I cared, she hurt me because her actions hurt Her, she hurt me because I trusted her as my friend, she hurt me because I did not expected it, she hurt me because she never thought about me when she was making such decisions, it was all about her infinite childish desires... and me paying for the consequences. I was shaking walking around Palermo trying to find a solution in less than 12 hours. I could not end up homeless... not again...not when I was going to a field trip the next day. I could not even sit down for a cup of coffee. I needed another cigarrete... no more left. I talked, did not solve all of her mess. I do have feelings, I can't pretend I am not hurt... but as always I will find a way to overcome.

I sat down in front of the computer. Skype did not help, my friends in Toronto must had been working. I started crying out of anger, out of helplessness, feeling betrayed. An MSN window opened ¿Qué paso güey?... Je te crois pas... Come to my house.

Deep breath, shoes on, coat ready, locked the door and started walking. Saw a taxi and jumped in "Tucumán y Esmeralda" Do you mind if I smoke Miss?, Do you mind if I join you? long day huh? Has not even started yet Miss I have to stay all night my kids are going back to school soon.

A tear came down all the way down to my lips, the driver did not notice my heart did. When my friend opened the door and hugged me, she said everything would be fine, worse comes to worse I could move in there. There is no quantity over quality when it comes to friendship. They have my back when I was so lucky to accidently meet them two months ago. Someone I met over a year ago left me hanging in limbo after we planned to share this over four months ago cheering with a gin and tonic. I am not going to let a little rock on the road to stop me from walking this amazing journey. It was not only her fault, I boycotted myself for caring too much about someone I thought I knew enough. It is not knowing someone in terms of decades, years, months, hours, minutes, seconds. As efficiency, quality is immeasurable... several years studying social sciences should have told me that...

A SDF Trying to Build a Home

I opened the door and smiled, left the grocery bags on the purple kitchen counter and took a deep breath. As I was singing to electronic tango followed by some Lebanese music I started cooking. It was just me, no more travellers in the hostel, my music and me. I felt so lucky, so greatful and so... complete, that is the word.

He asked me where did I lived. Je suis une SDF, I said. I did not say it in Spanish or in English ni vagabunda nor a homeless. I just did not have a fixed address at that point, I wanted to say it in French. After living in a hostel followed by being a guest in my friend's apartment I finally had my room. My room? I thought... why am I obsessed with privacy and private property, they are both human constructions. There are people who do not have either, and here I am getting all excited about having my room. I could have dance to Lebanese music on a park or started singing tango in the Subte, I did not had to wait. I already had plenty of reasons to be happy to do it. Here I am in Argentina, an unbeatable opportunity and an amazing experience. I do not need to have my room to enjoy it, I was enjoying it from the beginning.

I come back from my placement everyday feeling like a thousand days have passed outside the studio, that I have learned in 5 hours what I could never learn in 10 months. I want to be an academic, I said and they looked at me surprised, No ambassador? No lawyer? No MBA? No... I just want to be an academic, teach and learn, write and read. An internship in a research centre? Why not? I am not going to lie, I wasn't so sure about the internship. What do I know about Public Health? I can tell you now, I did not know anything but what I did know was closely related to Health. We work at my boss' studio every day, there is not a fixed schedule, research is not done from 9 to 5. We are only three, Ignacio, Marcelo and me. At the beginning I was so intimidated here I am working with someone who has been a university president, who has multiple publications, who knows so much. Next to my co-worker who is the most articulated M.A. student I have ever met, he always has an answer, he is always committed and involved. What could I bring to such a good team, me who did not know anything about Health? I did my undergrad in International Studies too, Marcelo said; Do you know what are you going to write your dissertation on? And somehow I felt at home talking with one of my friends in Toronto. I started talking. I saw he was interested in what I had to say, me the Mexican girl living in Canada who has a random accent, had something to say and it was worth hearing it. I do not longer feel ashamed to say anything in fact, if I don't know something I just ask. I often stay longer or come back home and research more.

I just need an apartment with two rooms, I told my mom. I just need one to sleep and the other one to be the studio, when I grow up I won't need a car or an amazing office, I won't need the expensive work clothes. Hopefully, I will make out of that studio my home, not my room but where I know I can sit down at midnight without worrying that the next day I have to work from 9-5. I guess even if I am away, as long as I am happy I will always be at home.

Carrefour?

So what are you cooking tonight Mariele? The owner of the carniceria, the butcher says. I was cooking a simple pasta with some meat. He does not yet believe that I am Mexican I showed him my passport today. He laughed and said that I only say one word in Mexican Spanish. I do and I say it a lot. 

During my YIIP interview I was so confident about coming to place "similar" to home that I said that it would be so easy. Confirmation that I am not a global citizen: it has not been as easy as I thought. Buenos Aires is a big city and when I say big, I am not saying Toronto or Montreal big I am saying 11 million-big. I love it, and now and then I hate it, specially when I get so distracted in buses and keep on missing my stop. I expected Buenos Aires to be so similar to Mexico City, it is not. I realized how different it is, and how North-American-wanna-be my country is. Buenos Aires is so Latin American but if you are walking on some districts you will actually believe you are either in Madrid or Paris. 

No, there is no IKEA here, I have not seen a Walmart yet buuuuut there is Carrefour!!!! As I was walking to see Plaza de Mayo, I saw Carrefour, and I smiled. I went in thinking perfect I am so going to find some Mexican brands and cook or maybe I can find this or that. WRONG AGAIN. I naively thought Carrefour would be like in France or in Mexico. I went back to the hostel and some Americans were complaining about the same thing, I heard them saying exactly what I thought... supermarkets in Argentina suck. But when I was listening to them I realized how stupid my anger to Carrefour was and how mistaken I am. They don't suck, I do. I do for assuming that everyone in Latin America will consume Mexican products, that I will find what I have found in France or in Toronto. Why would Argentines like what I like?, and why should I get so annoying about a supermarket? I do my groceries in the little family-owned supermarket, they have spicy sauce from Mexico... go figure.

People from Buenos Aires are called Porteños. One of my friends told me that they were rather unique characters. So far I have not been able to relate to them, specially the girls. My Argentine friends are not Porteños they are from somewhere else, and I am in love with them. Two weekends ago we went to a little town outside Buenos Aires called La Plata, it is only one hour away and people are so different. I had the best time there. However, after living 4 years in a country where parties start at 10pm and end at 3am I have noticed that I have been Torontonized. Here dinner starts around 10pm going to a bar is 12pm, going to the club is around 2 or 3am... want to know at what time does it end? We went back home two Sundays ago at 11am. ¡Vaya Fiesta!... I don't understand how people do it. I guess I will have to learn or drink (more) coffee at La Havana -an Argentine coffee chain and more Alfajores to have more energy... Maybe I should eat less Mexican hot sauce and more chimichurri...