Apparently six consecutive days of rain in Buenos Aires is quite unusual, especially during this season. As with any city, the locals here have a general knack for talking up their city, or in this case excusing it. Despite trying to filter and interpret these comments as “local bias” I’d have to say most of what I’ve been told has held true, the rain included. The city is not setup to handle massive amounts of rain, which has become more than evident through the flooding in the streets, closure of subte (subway) stations, power outages, and various other fun things.
*Fun side note: the original settlement of Buenos Aires did not take due to flooding. I wonder if they’re starting to re-think their position now?
On the bright side the rain has not been consistent, but on the downside the rain has not been consistent. My definition of fun is pretty broad and incorporates a wide array of activities, but getting stuck in a flash flood with all of my visa documents and without slightest shred of gear does not make the list. Compounding the problem is the dilapidated state of the sidewalks, which I think speaks more to the problem of bloated bureaucracy than economic fallibility. All of the major utilities (gas, water, etc.) run underneath the sidewalk and when there’s a problem, they have to break the sidewalk to fix the problem underneath. Apparently the gas company has no problem breaking through the patch work concrete, but when it comes to fixing the problem it’s someone else’s problem. Sometimes they’ll mark off areas with bags of rocks suggesting they’re going to fix the problem, or wood pallets to cover one eyesore with another. Sometimes they’ll even manage to salvage the tiles and put them back loosely, creating a bit of a wobble when you step on. The aforementioned is hardly ever problematic, except when it rains. The rain collects underneath the tiles and stepping on an end displaces the subterranean water, slinging it perfectly up your leg, sometimes making it is far as your shorts.
ACADEMIC NEWS
I’ve spent the better part of the week collecting my documents for a student visa and arranging my schedule with la Universidad de Buenos Aires (UBA). I’m never one to count my chickens before they hatch, especially with all the road blocks thus far, but everything seems to be falling in place. It’s actually been so smooth that I’m catching on to this “contagious optimism” that, according to Salmon Rushdie, can be oh so dangerous. Monday is my first day of classes and although I retain a bit of angst, I’m also quite excited. Not so much about the classes, but about my chance to be “that foreign student.” Just imagine any exchange student you’ve ever come across and I could be that guy: died hair, Velcro shoes, and a notebook/folder with something I think is superhip like the Power Rangers. Can’t wait.
SOCIAL NEWS
Some of the rotary scholars are leaving this week for their respective locations around the country while new ones specific to Buenos Aires have arrived. I’m starting to worry a bit about surrounding myself with mostly Americans but those fears have been somewhat belayed this weekend in what I call “the week of the argentine.” I met my first real argentine friend a few weeks ago and we finally got to hang out Thursday and I got to see some of the real local spots, though it was tough cause we didn’t start heading back (at my request) until 4AM. Friday my roommate and I headed to Palermo Hollywood (one of the barrios) and ended up meeting a large group of South Americans (name any country) working for a consulting group. We spent the majority of the night hanging out with them and I think my roommate, Patrick, might be applying for a job. That night we also met Pablo, a rugby playing drummer who made us promise to come to his bands’ live music Saturday night at a bar/club. A little afraid of him, we complied. We also thought this was going to be a little rinky-dink dive bar with a few local bands showcasing their skills…wrong. The bar was massive and Pablo arranged it so we didn’t have to pay the $30 peso cover (about as expensive as it gets). They were the only band and were amazing, Pablo especially. Afterwards he gave me a band t-shirt and told Patrick and I he was going to bring us to a Rugby practice, as well as a bbq (Parilla being the local term). He also asked for our female friend’s phone number for any of you who might be thinking about this in the context of my flight attendant story.
That’s all for now, check for new pictures. There’s a few captions this time and more to come next week, especially of the new place.
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