Ok, so this blog actually has no affiliation with a radio, but I will never apologize for somehow fitting the Buggles into my misadventures.
As I figured both readers and writer alike would enjoy a break from my long-winded memoirs, I thought now might be a good time to share a few of my favorite commercials from down here.
A Few Quick Notes:
1) I'm quitting my job. I've already put in my two weeks and will be finishing up this week. As much as I hate to quit things, I found the work environment turning me into someone I'm not and thought it better for everyone if we parted ways. An added bonus is that you don't have to hear me gripe about that anymore.
2) There will be no Random Thought of the Week this week, as the argentine commercials I am supplying will cover that aspect completely.
3) For those of you disheartened in the lack of reader material this week, I can only apologize and offer a few quick reads as something to tide you over 'til next week: Don Quixote, War and Peace, or Atlas Shrugged.
VIDEO 1
Both clever and cute. The thing I love most about this commercial is the song. The artist is Aselin Debeson. I haven't really listened to much of her other stuff (there's not much) and this song was, I believe, actually just recorded for the commercial (my empirical evidence being it's only a little over a minute).
VIDEO 2
I guess the recurring theme is the music in these commercials, though the dancing is also worth noting here (as it resembles my own). The creepy guy in the background is kind of funny too. The most ridiculous part is that there is absolutely no connection between the commercial and the product/service being offered. For those of you without a Spanish tongue, please take a second to guess then check out the answer (at the bottom of this post).
VIDEO 3
Another one that I essentially like because of the song...there's just something about it. Kind of chuckle-worthy too. Unfortunately this song was also made just for the commercial, but it is based off of "Elephant Gun" by the band Beirut. That song, and their Postcards from Italy are both great so check them out if you get a chance.
VIDEO 4
I'm assuming this one probably aired in the US but figured I'd share it anyway. A great collection of olympics clips put to this song makes for an amazing commercial. More than anything, I think it really summarizes the duality of the olympic spirit: nations competing in sports instead of conflicts and courage through competition.
ANSWER: A fixed-time period mortgage.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Slow News Week
"THAT'S SO TABU!"
The one noteworthy piece of news occurred this past Saturday, during my friend's asado (bbq). A couple other friends had brought over TABU, the spanish version of TABOO. I was tentative to play as the last time I did so ended rather abruptly seven years ago. Freshman year of college and the word was "sleigh." Sounds simple but its just obscure enough that, when you take out the five words you can't say, there are very few options. The clever pup that I was, however, decided to borrow a tune from a christmas jingle and started to sing "______ bells ring a ling, ding ding ding-a-ling do." Obvious right? My teammate blanked. This was the first word of the minute, and as we both grew more frustrated I started to sing it louder and faster...didn't help. Finally at the end of the minute I screamed out "SANTA RIDES IN ONE YOU ASSHOLE!" Santa was one of the five forbidden words and I thought that had ended my short-lived Taboo career.
Now that I'm older and more mature (yeah, right) I felt I could handle it this time. No real eruptions, at least not from me anyways, and Spanish Tabu was rather fun. It's not nearly as hard to talk around some things in spanish as I thought, especially since that's what you do most of the time when learning a new language. The other fun difference in the game, besides the oh-so-cute spelling, is that instead of an electronic buzzer this game has a squeaky dog chew toy.
I'VE GOT ANOTHER MEETING WITH THE BOBS
I never thought I could have likened teaching to an office job, but I was wrong. You know that scene in Office Space where Peterman is meeting with "the Bobs" and tells them straight to their face that he really only works about fifteen solid minutes in a given week? Well, I had one of those moments. Some may argue that Peterman says this because he is still under the hypnotism but given that this occurs long after his original actions I think he says it cause he truly realizes how messed up the system is in that idiots get promoted. He knows that no bad, and perhaps only good, can come from his confession.
So the other day my boss and I were talking of possibly changing my schedule a bit. Currently in the afternoon there are 10 hours of work with children in a given week. Since my position is a bit odd, I work three with the bilingual children (who I love) and four with the sixth grade ESL children (who I like despite the fact the school lets them run all over the teachers). Generally the other two periods would be planning for every teacher, but that only leaves me with 9 hours of work with children. The other contributing factor is that I'm supposed to split my time evenly between the 6th grade classes, working one hour with each of them (there are four each week). Since my bosses never came up with a solution to this problem, I made my own: an extra planning period (and to be fair this was the exact same schedule the person I took over for had).
So as my boss and I are discussing my new schedule she brings up my planning periods: one on monday and one on thursday. Never one to lie, I corrected her and mentioned the additional planning period on Monday. She looked a bit puzzled and murmured how that couldn't be right and that I must be the luckiest teacher in school. I shrugged my shoulders and that was the end of the conversation. Are we calling it luck? There are various words I would use and many more phrases, most of which involve choice four letter words, to describe the situation I'm in and "luck" is not one of them.
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I love the creation of celebrity from absurdity. Let me specify as I'm not talking about idiotic people like Paris Hilton: I love Yanni. Other than being a musician and looking ridiculous, I know nothing about him. I couldn't tell you one song of his and am only slightly confident he plays the flute (and would imagine its some woodwind with a sillier name like Piccolo). That said, I love Yanni and have no idea why, though think it has something to do with the 1/2 hour infomercials I used to watch when I was sick from school. The other day I found a folded up Yanni shirt in my laundry and was thrilled. This wasn't a cd release or even a concert shirt, it simply had a picture of Yanni on the front and his name scrolled down the side. I can't explain it but I thought I had been blessed by the gods, I immediately put it on and headed for our night out in a jazz club. My bubble was burst, however, when my roommate informs me that it actually belongs to our mutual friend beth and wasn't just a random gift the laundry gods had mixed into my clothes. The following is a verbatim text dialogue that transpired and I promise alcohol had no influence in the conversation.
Daniel: Do you own a Yanni shirt?
Beth: Dude that my prize possession. Dont let anything happen to it. Im wearing that to my dissertation defense
D: wearin it now And lovin it! Funny story, may be mine now!
B: No effing way buddy. Anne even asked me where it was when she was here. Id give you my grandmothers wedding band but not the yanni shirt
D: Sold!
B: Ps Anne says he looks like me if I transitioned to male. He creepily does look exactly like my cousin.
D: Good you can take a picture of him and put it on a shirt until your grandamas ring gets here
B: R u drunk?
D: Drunk on yanni awesomeness!
B: Listen, I'd really love to give it to u but it was the first thing anne gave me when we started dating. Sentimental value and all
D: I thought the idiot laundry ladies put it with my stuff by accident (fate) and was so excited!
B: Haha nope. I am the idiot in this case.
D: But now Im more let down than that xmas where my parents told me they gave my super nintendo to charity.
Next day
Daniel to Beth: I'm wearing it again. You need to take this thing away from me! I have a sickness...Save me from myself!
Postscript: Beth and I have since worked out a joint custody agreement for the shirt.
The one noteworthy piece of news occurred this past Saturday, during my friend's asado (bbq). A couple other friends had brought over TABU, the spanish version of TABOO. I was tentative to play as the last time I did so ended rather abruptly seven years ago. Freshman year of college and the word was "sleigh." Sounds simple but its just obscure enough that, when you take out the five words you can't say, there are very few options. The clever pup that I was, however, decided to borrow a tune from a christmas jingle and started to sing "______ bells ring a ling, ding ding ding-a-ling do." Obvious right? My teammate blanked. This was the first word of the minute, and as we both grew more frustrated I started to sing it louder and faster...didn't help. Finally at the end of the minute I screamed out "SANTA RIDES IN ONE YOU ASSHOLE!" Santa was one of the five forbidden words and I thought that had ended my short-lived Taboo career.
Now that I'm older and more mature (yeah, right) I felt I could handle it this time. No real eruptions, at least not from me anyways, and Spanish Tabu was rather fun. It's not nearly as hard to talk around some things in spanish as I thought, especially since that's what you do most of the time when learning a new language. The other fun difference in the game, besides the oh-so-cute spelling, is that instead of an electronic buzzer this game has a squeaky dog chew toy.
I'VE GOT ANOTHER MEETING WITH THE BOBS
I never thought I could have likened teaching to an office job, but I was wrong. You know that scene in Office Space where Peterman is meeting with "the Bobs" and tells them straight to their face that he really only works about fifteen solid minutes in a given week? Well, I had one of those moments. Some may argue that Peterman says this because he is still under the hypnotism but given that this occurs long after his original actions I think he says it cause he truly realizes how messed up the system is in that idiots get promoted. He knows that no bad, and perhaps only good, can come from his confession.
So the other day my boss and I were talking of possibly changing my schedule a bit. Currently in the afternoon there are 10 hours of work with children in a given week. Since my position is a bit odd, I work three with the bilingual children (who I love) and four with the sixth grade ESL children (who I like despite the fact the school lets them run all over the teachers). Generally the other two periods would be planning for every teacher, but that only leaves me with 9 hours of work with children. The other contributing factor is that I'm supposed to split my time evenly between the 6th grade classes, working one hour with each of them (there are four each week). Since my bosses never came up with a solution to this problem, I made my own: an extra planning period (and to be fair this was the exact same schedule the person I took over for had).
So as my boss and I are discussing my new schedule she brings up my planning periods: one on monday and one on thursday. Never one to lie, I corrected her and mentioned the additional planning period on Monday. She looked a bit puzzled and murmured how that couldn't be right and that I must be the luckiest teacher in school. I shrugged my shoulders and that was the end of the conversation. Are we calling it luck? There are various words I would use and many more phrases, most of which involve choice four letter words, to describe the situation I'm in and "luck" is not one of them.
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I love the creation of celebrity from absurdity. Let me specify as I'm not talking about idiotic people like Paris Hilton: I love Yanni. Other than being a musician and looking ridiculous, I know nothing about him. I couldn't tell you one song of his and am only slightly confident he plays the flute (and would imagine its some woodwind with a sillier name like Piccolo). That said, I love Yanni and have no idea why, though think it has something to do with the 1/2 hour infomercials I used to watch when I was sick from school. The other day I found a folded up Yanni shirt in my laundry and was thrilled. This wasn't a cd release or even a concert shirt, it simply had a picture of Yanni on the front and his name scrolled down the side. I can't explain it but I thought I had been blessed by the gods, I immediately put it on and headed for our night out in a jazz club. My bubble was burst, however, when my roommate informs me that it actually belongs to our mutual friend beth and wasn't just a random gift the laundry gods had mixed into my clothes. The following is a verbatim text dialogue that transpired and I promise alcohol had no influence in the conversation.
Daniel: Do you own a Yanni shirt?
Beth: Dude that my prize possession. Dont let anything happen to it. Im wearing that to my dissertation defense
D: wearin it now And lovin it! Funny story, may be mine now!
B: No effing way buddy. Anne even asked me where it was when she was here. Id give you my grandmothers wedding band but not the yanni shirt
D: Sold!
B: Ps Anne says he looks like me if I transitioned to male. He creepily does look exactly like my cousin.
D: Good you can take a picture of him and put it on a shirt until your grandamas ring gets here
B: R u drunk?
D: Drunk on yanni awesomeness!
B: Listen, I'd really love to give it to u but it was the first thing anne gave me when we started dating. Sentimental value and all
D: I thought the idiot laundry ladies put it with my stuff by accident (fate) and was so excited!
B: Haha nope. I am the idiot in this case.
D: But now Im more let down than that xmas where my parents told me they gave my super nintendo to charity.
Next day
Daniel to Beth: I'm wearing it again. You need to take this thing away from me! I have a sickness...Save me from myself!
Postscript: Beth and I have since worked out a joint custody agreement for the shirt.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Mendoza
As I've returned to my faux-reality from my vacation in Mendoza exhausted and unmotivated, I really start to worry about my re-entry into the real world, whenever that may be.
Laura and I embarked on our journey at 8pm on Wednesday. Laura, by the way, is a good friend of mine and another rotary scholar. Standing at just under five feet and one of the few who can go toe-to-toe with me in terms of inappropriateness, I knew she was going to be a great travel companion.
What I did not know until I arrived here, however, is that South America is not like Europe (duh!). The rail system is almost completely defunct and the one south american low-cost airline is laughable. No weekend jet sets "across the pond" here, if you want to travel you either need to shell out the time or the money. Since I'm broke, I chose the former. A thirteen hour bus ride is never anything to look forward to, but man, the Argentines know how to travel in style. This bus was literally the equivalent to a first-class airline: leather seats that recline to an entire bed, food, movies, and free booze.
Surprisingly, I didn't get much sleep and Laura and I decided to make Thursday a lazy day around the town. Never one to relax for too long, things picked up quite a bit on Friday. For those of you who don't know, Mendoza is not only an interesting little city just west of the Andes/Chile border, it is also Argentine wine country. As there are approximately 35 vineyards in the surrounding area there are quite a few offers from companies offer tours. Which to choose: bus? taxi for hire? rickshaw? Oh, there it is! Bicycles.
Myself, Rowan (our hostel mate), and Laura ready to rock
Biking through wine country, however, did not prove at romantic as I had previously idealized. Instead of gingerly strolling through vineyards, stopping to picnic or pluck grapes we fought gears on our crappy bikes as we made our way down a semi-paved (read: full of pot holes) road littered with truck traffic. Strong-willed and quite thirsty, I was not going to let this 12km loop of pollution ruin my time, I was on vacation.
We initially made our way all the way down to the last vineyard (there were 6) in the loop, figuring it would be better to work our way back up (read: less distance to ride after consuming copious amounts of wine). This vineyard, Carinae, was amazing. Not only was the tour guide informative, she was quite cute and didn't seem to mind myself, Rowan, and even Laura drooling over her. The two fun facts I learned from here are that:
1) they plant rose bushes next to the vineyards since roses are generally susceptible to the same illnesses as grapes, so if something happens to the roses it forewarns them about the vines.
2) Since they were a smaller vineyard, they couldn't compete in quantity, meaning they had to focus on quality. To do so, as the grapes came in they cut one of the two bushels off the vine so that all of the nutrients could be focused into that one set of grapes. Pretty interesting.
We tried three half glasses here and liked them all. They also let me sample their premium brand (a 100 peso bottle, probably about $100 US in the states) for ten pesos. Although I loved it, it made me realize that I am nowhere near the point that I can appreciate such a good bottle of wine.
The rest of the day was filled with cycling, sweating, and consumption. The highlight came when we stopped for lunch at this restaurant setup and run by a couple of Canadians. What can only be described as an oasis, Dumaine Du Mont is everything you would expect wine country to be. A little house with a beautiful yard, a rap around porch and magnificent view of the Andes...I didn't want to leave.
A minimum of two pictures still can't do this place justice. Sorry if it appears crooked, I think my computer is on a contact drunk from the wine seeping out of my pores.
After a long day in the sun, we spent the better part of the late afternoon and early evening resting up. Additionally, we knew we had a long day full of adventure ahead of us the next day so we threw all of our efforts behind the BBQ our hostel was hosting Friday night. Nothing too exiting, except that when you offer Laura and me all you can drink booze, we are going to get our money's worth. Having spent the day with Rowan and downing about 3 bottles a piece by dinner time, we were all working off a synergy that not even Stephen Covey could explain. Of the twelve or so people at our table, most were British (I love the british because nothing ever appalls them) and the rest we won over through wine, because by the end of the night people were choking on their food laughing so hard at just about anything that came out of our mouths. I guess most had thought we were a couple (big mistake) when we first came in, which we chose to clarify not by outright declaration, but with various jabs at each other to the likes of "say that again and I will kick you right in the crotch" and "sleep lightly my friend." That’s the PG rated version at least, good fun.
SATURDAY
Not nearly as hung-over as we should have been, we headed out to the mountains for a day of adventure with trekking and kayaking. I wanted to white-water raft but the river is lazy this time of the year...kayaking was equally as boring though. Even though the trek was nothing spectacular (a little hike through a hill) our half way point ended at a small waterfall.
This waterfall really wasn't anything to shake a stick at (coming from a person who has shaken many a stick), but the cool part was that we got to rappel down the wall just to the left of it (as seen in the picture).
Same story for the afternoon/early evening: rest up and a little bit of food. We actually ended up meeting a few people from Buenos Aires in our trek and decided to meet up with them that night. Saturday was quite possible one of the dumbest things I have done in my life, though I can't post it quite yet as it requires at least one picture that I am waiting on from the local Portenos. Sorry to keep you in suspense but it will be up within the week.
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I've always wanted to have somebody "sock it to me." Having not been a child of the seventies and never really doing hard core drugs, I can only imagine what this would be like. I theorize that this "socking it to someone" is almost like a state of enlighten that usually takes place on a dance floor. Two people on the dance floor become lost in the sacred art of dance, nothing else is important: the music, others around, the copious amount of sweat pouring from their bodies. Then all of a sudden one of the pairs does some sort of move that resembles a "fatality move" from Mortal Kombat (without the actual killing part) and all is known in the world. I figure it's either that or an STD, in which case I would politely decline.
Laura and I embarked on our journey at 8pm on Wednesday. Laura, by the way, is a good friend of mine and another rotary scholar. Standing at just under five feet and one of the few who can go toe-to-toe with me in terms of inappropriateness, I knew she was going to be a great travel companion.
What I did not know until I arrived here, however, is that South America is not like Europe (duh!). The rail system is almost completely defunct and the one south american low-cost airline is laughable. No weekend jet sets "across the pond" here, if you want to travel you either need to shell out the time or the money. Since I'm broke, I chose the former. A thirteen hour bus ride is never anything to look forward to, but man, the Argentines know how to travel in style. This bus was literally the equivalent to a first-class airline: leather seats that recline to an entire bed, food, movies, and free booze.
Surprisingly, I didn't get much sleep and Laura and I decided to make Thursday a lazy day around the town. Never one to relax for too long, things picked up quite a bit on Friday. For those of you who don't know, Mendoza is not only an interesting little city just west of the Andes/Chile border, it is also Argentine wine country. As there are approximately 35 vineyards in the surrounding area there are quite a few offers from companies offer tours. Which to choose: bus? taxi for hire? rickshaw? Oh, there it is! Bicycles.
Myself, Rowan (our hostel mate), and Laura ready to rock
Biking through wine country, however, did not prove at romantic as I had previously idealized. Instead of gingerly strolling through vineyards, stopping to picnic or pluck grapes we fought gears on our crappy bikes as we made our way down a semi-paved (read: full of pot holes) road littered with truck traffic. Strong-willed and quite thirsty, I was not going to let this 12km loop of pollution ruin my time, I was on vacation.
We initially made our way all the way down to the last vineyard (there were 6) in the loop, figuring it would be better to work our way back up (read: less distance to ride after consuming copious amounts of wine). This vineyard, Carinae, was amazing. Not only was the tour guide informative, she was quite cute and didn't seem to mind myself, Rowan, and even Laura drooling over her. The two fun facts I learned from here are that:
1) they plant rose bushes next to the vineyards since roses are generally susceptible to the same illnesses as grapes, so if something happens to the roses it forewarns them about the vines.
2) Since they were a smaller vineyard, they couldn't compete in quantity, meaning they had to focus on quality. To do so, as the grapes came in they cut one of the two bushels off the vine so that all of the nutrients could be focused into that one set of grapes. Pretty interesting.
We tried three half glasses here and liked them all. They also let me sample their premium brand (a 100 peso bottle, probably about $100 US in the states) for ten pesos. Although I loved it, it made me realize that I am nowhere near the point that I can appreciate such a good bottle of wine.
The rest of the day was filled with cycling, sweating, and consumption. The highlight came when we stopped for lunch at this restaurant setup and run by a couple of Canadians. What can only be described as an oasis, Dumaine Du Mont is everything you would expect wine country to be. A little house with a beautiful yard, a rap around porch and magnificent view of the Andes...I didn't want to leave.
A minimum of two pictures still can't do this place justice. Sorry if it appears crooked, I think my computer is on a contact drunk from the wine seeping out of my pores.
After a long day in the sun, we spent the better part of the late afternoon and early evening resting up. Additionally, we knew we had a long day full of adventure ahead of us the next day so we threw all of our efforts behind the BBQ our hostel was hosting Friday night. Nothing too exiting, except that when you offer Laura and me all you can drink booze, we are going to get our money's worth. Having spent the day with Rowan and downing about 3 bottles a piece by dinner time, we were all working off a synergy that not even Stephen Covey could explain. Of the twelve or so people at our table, most were British (I love the british because nothing ever appalls them) and the rest we won over through wine, because by the end of the night people were choking on their food laughing so hard at just about anything that came out of our mouths. I guess most had thought we were a couple (big mistake) when we first came in, which we chose to clarify not by outright declaration, but with various jabs at each other to the likes of "say that again and I will kick you right in the crotch" and "sleep lightly my friend." That’s the PG rated version at least, good fun.
SATURDAY
Not nearly as hung-over as we should have been, we headed out to the mountains for a day of adventure with trekking and kayaking. I wanted to white-water raft but the river is lazy this time of the year...kayaking was equally as boring though. Even though the trek was nothing spectacular (a little hike through a hill) our half way point ended at a small waterfall.
This waterfall really wasn't anything to shake a stick at (coming from a person who has shaken many a stick), but the cool part was that we got to rappel down the wall just to the left of it (as seen in the picture).
Same story for the afternoon/early evening: rest up and a little bit of food. We actually ended up meeting a few people from Buenos Aires in our trek and decided to meet up with them that night. Saturday was quite possible one of the dumbest things I have done in my life, though I can't post it quite yet as it requires at least one picture that I am waiting on from the local Portenos. Sorry to keep you in suspense but it will be up within the week.
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I've always wanted to have somebody "sock it to me." Having not been a child of the seventies and never really doing hard core drugs, I can only imagine what this would be like. I theorize that this "socking it to someone" is almost like a state of enlighten that usually takes place on a dance floor. Two people on the dance floor become lost in the sacred art of dance, nothing else is important: the music, others around, the copious amount of sweat pouring from their bodies. Then all of a sudden one of the pairs does some sort of move that resembles a "fatality move" from Mortal Kombat (without the actual killing part) and all is known in the world. I figure it's either that or an STD, in which case I would politely decline.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
TWO IN A ROW!
That's right, like a Phoenix reborn from the ashes of a fallen typist I have been reborn into the blogger I once was. In celebration of these two consecutive weeks of toil I have decided to reward myself with a vacation to wine country: Mendoza. I'll be gone all weekend which means after this post I probably won't be able to post again until next Monday (9/15) in the evening time.
Also, be sure to check out my "random thought of the week" section all the way at the bottom. It's new and I figured it would be great for those who are too lazy to read the entire blog but still need the weekly reminder of just how random I can be sometimes.
CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY ACTUALLY PLAY FOOTBALL WITH A FOOT?
It was at 5:30 on Tuesday morning when I felt as if I were coming out of a dream-like state. As it turns out, I was coming out of a dream-like state. The mere shock of waking up a full two and a half hours before my earliest rise time sent a severe shock to my system. As a lumbered to the bathroom to brush my teeth I began to think of several reasons why I should crawl back into bed; these rational thoughts, however, were quickly brushed aside. I was on a mission. Proud of myself for only taking three tries to dress myself correctly (it's usually only two when I'm fully awake) I set forth on my journey.
As I stepped out into the Argentine predawn I saw the city as I had never seen it before. Solitude. It took over two blocks before I ran into a night watchmen and a few newspaper kiosks preparing themselves for business...Buenos Aires is not a morning city. A few metro stops and a quick cab ride later I was in line, frustrated by the wait but keeping my cool and sense of purpose. An hour passes and at last I have them: tickets to the World Cup South American Qualifier, Argentina vs. Paraguay. The game transpired this past saturday and went a little something like this:
The weather forecast for the week was supposed to have rain on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, but as our luck would have it the gods decided to smite us by holding it all off until saturday: game day. On what was possibly the worst day of the year here Adam, Natalie (Adam's girlfriend) and I met up at 3:30 in the afternoon to head to the game. In hindsight it was pretty silly of us to leave only a half hour for what should be a twenty minute transit, but that's always 20/20 right? During the second half of our journey our rather friendly cabbie, I'll call him Smiles, decides that since it's cold and rainy we should probably walk a few extra blocks to the stadium, you know, to heat up our core temperature. I think this was the rational decision and it certainly saved him both time and income. After three tries we found the right gate and made our way up to our seats. About fifteen minutes late, getting to our seats was completely unmanageable. New plan: find a high perch for the first half, watch from there, then regroup at half time to attain our seats.
The seating organization of this stadium can only be described as a fire marshal’s seventh circle of hell: all the seats were packed, including aisles and any sort of exits. Police officers, more concerned with the field than safety or general well being, were leading the charge. Jamming our way through this sea of people, we finally found a limited view from a few steps. Not the best vantage point, but it would have to do. Half time: As my head is near icicle status I depart to buy some sort of comfort device. I find a neck warmer that has a draw string so you can make it into a beanie, best fifteen pesos I ever spent.* Returning to my amigos we scout out our seats, only to be told that the game was oversold, which threw the seating chart right out of the window. Apparently people got there hours before the game to squat in seats that weren't theirs so you'd have to tip them if you wanted to seats. Functional right? We spent the second half in an aisle, but at least had a complete view. Argentina played great and, despite being a man down, actually came back to tie it. Unfortunately I hadn't brushed up on my football terminology so I was a little unclear as to the vocabulary being used by the genteel folk around me, but think I pieced it together through context clues. They are, as follows:
Argentina team members are either called:
Che- a common nickname like "man" or "dude" here
their own name: Messi, Tevez, you pick it
Head Referee: Puta - something to the like of "noble official I trust your judgment"
Side judges: hijo de puta - I recognize that you are a person of high authority, and although your stature is not as great as the referee, in you I trust.
Opposing Players:
de puta madre- worthy competitor
concha de tu madre- squadron of worthy competitors
Please keep in mind these are rough translations.
*more specifically: best fifteen pesos I ever spent in Argentina, on that specific day. The thing is a piece of crap.
Despite braving the elements, the game was awesome.
THE SAGA CONTINUES
Meandering to school on Monday I wondered as to my fate in the Argentine Education system. Half hoping the situation was forgotten I set about my work: it was a planning day. As I was called into the directors' office for another meeting, the other half of me was expecting Oompa Loompas to come out and cart me off to a catchy tune. Still unsure of the what will be coming out of their mouths, I was astonished to hear them propose that I work with first graders. The next few minutes are a little hazy as my mind tried to digest how it could be preferable that someone thought to "abuse power" should work with smaller, more defenseless individuals. I guess they took my silence as a yes, done deed. Walking away I added anger to my befuddlement as they were treating a symptom instead of the root cause (that being the 6th graders with no discipline or structure). Nonetheless, I had decided to pick my battles and one involving logic or rationality I would surely lose. The rest of the week transpires and it slightly unbelievable.
Tuesday: The directors have not checked with first grade so they send me to sixth grade who sends me back to the directors since they thought I was supposed to be with first grade yet I somehow end up in sixth grade. I know, my brain hurts too. I do nothing.
Wednesday: I'm sent to first grade to see if they need help. The teacher is surprised but more than willing to have company. Although the little ones are adorable and looked to me as if I were Theseus, slayer of the Minotaur, my only contribution in class that day was helping the teacher spell doughnut (or donut for us vagabonds), the 21st of our "Dippy Duck" words.
Thursday: Having forgot all about our previous conversations, the directors act as if I am still with sixth grade and call me into a planning meeting with the other teachers. We are discussing laughable discipline measures (essentially writing down what students do, then doing nothing with it) when a teacher walks in and interrupts. Apparently she has found a tin in the yard that is worthy of the director's attention. It looks exactly like this:
Astonished but not surprised (the school does go all the way up to seventh grade after all) we all start to joke about it. Being the only guy in the room I bare the full brunt of the humor, with the other teacher asking me if I was the one that brought it, etc etc ha ha ha. Suddenly, curiosity sets in and the other teacher desires to see what the mints actually look like. Upon removal of a lid two things were discovered: 1) an absence of nipple mints (could this void in life ever really be filled?), and 2) the presence of a baggy filled with a greenish brown substance.
The baggy becomes the new subject of our wonderment as the other members of our planning group postulate its contents. Upon one whiff I know exactly what it is: marijuana. The director refuses to believe it as she keeps repeating "de la Tierra" (from the earth), which I confirm, but add that it's pot. I begin to laugh internally at the possibilities of our upcoming conversation, especially since it's in spanish, but also am a little worried they may think its me. In the states, anyone who's been to college or a concert can recognize the smell of pot, and I'd actually be worried if you weren't able to. Here, I think that's a different story (coke is the drug of choice). I spend about five minutes convincing her when my spidey sense told me that Director #2 walked in (the room is not collectively dumber). In unison the three of us give her the tin and instructed her. Look at it. Open it. Smell it. She doesn't believe it either and actually goes as far as to open the baggy and take it out. It's somewhat bricklike so she suggests hashish, with my counter point again being pot (or crappy pot if its all jammed together). She responds with an oh so convincing "hashish," prompting the other teacher has to ask exactly what hashish is. Between the look on her face, the look the directors gave each other, and the lack of a real response I'd place the probability that both directors smoked hashish back in the day around 98%. This explains a lot.
Friday: Nothing comes of the pot scandal. I'm sure the tin is still in the directors’ office though unsure of the status of its contents.
One of the sixth grade teachers is sick so Director 1 calls me in to tell me I have to fill in. At the end of her pump up speech she gives me an aside saying "if you feel like you want to murder them just call me, I'll be with second (grade) today." Normally I would be incensed by such a comment but I guess I have earned the reputation of being a bit of a hot head the past couple weeks by running around, tearing my shirt off, and yelling "HULK SMASH!"
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I am the only one that thinks VP nominee Sarah Palin looks astonishingly like Elaine from Seinfield? As there would be only one true way to prove or disprove her true identity I would suggest a VP candidate dance off. Think about it, Biden and Palin head to head. One song: Earth, Wind and Fire's Shining Star. Not only would this put to rest any conspiracy theories as to a candidates true identity, I believe "sweet dance moves" is a very valuable leadership characteristic and would go a long way in winning over the public.
Also, be sure to check out my "random thought of the week" section all the way at the bottom. It's new and I figured it would be great for those who are too lazy to read the entire blog but still need the weekly reminder of just how random I can be sometimes.
CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY ACTUALLY PLAY FOOTBALL WITH A FOOT?
It was at 5:30 on Tuesday morning when I felt as if I were coming out of a dream-like state. As it turns out, I was coming out of a dream-like state. The mere shock of waking up a full two and a half hours before my earliest rise time sent a severe shock to my system. As a lumbered to the bathroom to brush my teeth I began to think of several reasons why I should crawl back into bed; these rational thoughts, however, were quickly brushed aside. I was on a mission. Proud of myself for only taking three tries to dress myself correctly (it's usually only two when I'm fully awake) I set forth on my journey.
As I stepped out into the Argentine predawn I saw the city as I had never seen it before. Solitude. It took over two blocks before I ran into a night watchmen and a few newspaper kiosks preparing themselves for business...Buenos Aires is not a morning city. A few metro stops and a quick cab ride later I was in line, frustrated by the wait but keeping my cool and sense of purpose. An hour passes and at last I have them: tickets to the World Cup South American Qualifier, Argentina vs. Paraguay. The game transpired this past saturday and went a little something like this:
The weather forecast for the week was supposed to have rain on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, but as our luck would have it the gods decided to smite us by holding it all off until saturday: game day. On what was possibly the worst day of the year here Adam, Natalie (Adam's girlfriend) and I met up at 3:30 in the afternoon to head to the game. In hindsight it was pretty silly of us to leave only a half hour for what should be a twenty minute transit, but that's always 20/20 right? During the second half of our journey our rather friendly cabbie, I'll call him Smiles, decides that since it's cold and rainy we should probably walk a few extra blocks to the stadium, you know, to heat up our core temperature. I think this was the rational decision and it certainly saved him both time and income. After three tries we found the right gate and made our way up to our seats. About fifteen minutes late, getting to our seats was completely unmanageable. New plan: find a high perch for the first half, watch from there, then regroup at half time to attain our seats.
The seating organization of this stadium can only be described as a fire marshal’s seventh circle of hell: all the seats were packed, including aisles and any sort of exits. Police officers, more concerned with the field than safety or general well being, were leading the charge. Jamming our way through this sea of people, we finally found a limited view from a few steps. Not the best vantage point, but it would have to do. Half time: As my head is near icicle status I depart to buy some sort of comfort device. I find a neck warmer that has a draw string so you can make it into a beanie, best fifteen pesos I ever spent.* Returning to my amigos we scout out our seats, only to be told that the game was oversold, which threw the seating chart right out of the window. Apparently people got there hours before the game to squat in seats that weren't theirs so you'd have to tip them if you wanted to seats. Functional right? We spent the second half in an aisle, but at least had a complete view. Argentina played great and, despite being a man down, actually came back to tie it. Unfortunately I hadn't brushed up on my football terminology so I was a little unclear as to the vocabulary being used by the genteel folk around me, but think I pieced it together through context clues. They are, as follows:
Argentina team members are either called:
Che- a common nickname like "man" or "dude" here
their own name: Messi, Tevez, you pick it
Head Referee: Puta - something to the like of "noble official I trust your judgment"
Side judges: hijo de puta - I recognize that you are a person of high authority, and although your stature is not as great as the referee, in you I trust.
Opposing Players:
de puta madre- worthy competitor
concha de tu madre- squadron of worthy competitors
Please keep in mind these are rough translations.
*more specifically: best fifteen pesos I ever spent in Argentina, on that specific day. The thing is a piece of crap.
Despite braving the elements, the game was awesome.
THE SAGA CONTINUES
Meandering to school on Monday I wondered as to my fate in the Argentine Education system. Half hoping the situation was forgotten I set about my work: it was a planning day. As I was called into the directors' office for another meeting, the other half of me was expecting Oompa Loompas to come out and cart me off to a catchy tune. Still unsure of the what will be coming out of their mouths, I was astonished to hear them propose that I work with first graders. The next few minutes are a little hazy as my mind tried to digest how it could be preferable that someone thought to "abuse power" should work with smaller, more defenseless individuals. I guess they took my silence as a yes, done deed. Walking away I added anger to my befuddlement as they were treating a symptom instead of the root cause (that being the 6th graders with no discipline or structure). Nonetheless, I had decided to pick my battles and one involving logic or rationality I would surely lose. The rest of the week transpires and it slightly unbelievable.
Tuesday: The directors have not checked with first grade so they send me to sixth grade who sends me back to the directors since they thought I was supposed to be with first grade yet I somehow end up in sixth grade. I know, my brain hurts too. I do nothing.
Wednesday: I'm sent to first grade to see if they need help. The teacher is surprised but more than willing to have company. Although the little ones are adorable and looked to me as if I were Theseus, slayer of the Minotaur, my only contribution in class that day was helping the teacher spell doughnut (or donut for us vagabonds), the 21st of our "Dippy Duck" words.
Thursday: Having forgot all about our previous conversations, the directors act as if I am still with sixth grade and call me into a planning meeting with the other teachers. We are discussing laughable discipline measures (essentially writing down what students do, then doing nothing with it) when a teacher walks in and interrupts. Apparently she has found a tin in the yard that is worthy of the director's attention. It looks exactly like this:
Astonished but not surprised (the school does go all the way up to seventh grade after all) we all start to joke about it. Being the only guy in the room I bare the full brunt of the humor, with the other teacher asking me if I was the one that brought it, etc etc ha ha ha. Suddenly, curiosity sets in and the other teacher desires to see what the mints actually look like. Upon removal of a lid two things were discovered: 1) an absence of nipple mints (could this void in life ever really be filled?), and 2) the presence of a baggy filled with a greenish brown substance.
The baggy becomes the new subject of our wonderment as the other members of our planning group postulate its contents. Upon one whiff I know exactly what it is: marijuana. The director refuses to believe it as she keeps repeating "de la Tierra" (from the earth), which I confirm, but add that it's pot. I begin to laugh internally at the possibilities of our upcoming conversation, especially since it's in spanish, but also am a little worried they may think its me. In the states, anyone who's been to college or a concert can recognize the smell of pot, and I'd actually be worried if you weren't able to. Here, I think that's a different story (coke is the drug of choice). I spend about five minutes convincing her when my spidey sense told me that Director #2 walked in (the room is not collectively dumber). In unison the three of us give her the tin and instructed her. Look at it. Open it. Smell it. She doesn't believe it either and actually goes as far as to open the baggy and take it out. It's somewhat bricklike so she suggests hashish, with my counter point again being pot (or crappy pot if its all jammed together). She responds with an oh so convincing "hashish," prompting the other teacher has to ask exactly what hashish is. Between the look on her face, the look the directors gave each other, and the lack of a real response I'd place the probability that both directors smoked hashish back in the day around 98%. This explains a lot.
Friday: Nothing comes of the pot scandal. I'm sure the tin is still in the directors’ office though unsure of the status of its contents.
One of the sixth grade teachers is sick so Director 1 calls me in to tell me I have to fill in. At the end of her pump up speech she gives me an aside saying "if you feel like you want to murder them just call me, I'll be with second (grade) today." Normally I would be incensed by such a comment but I guess I have earned the reputation of being a bit of a hot head the past couple weeks by running around, tearing my shirt off, and yelling "HULK SMASH!"
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I am the only one that thinks VP nominee Sarah Palin looks astonishingly like Elaine from Seinfield? As there would be only one true way to prove or disprove her true identity I would suggest a VP candidate dance off. Think about it, Biden and Palin head to head. One song: Earth, Wind and Fire's Shining Star. Not only would this put to rest any conspiracy theories as to a candidates true identity, I believe "sweet dance moves" is a very valuable leadership characteristic and would go a long way in winning over the public.
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