Lizzy en Argentina: Soy extranjera

It hasn't even been a full week yet and so much has happened, I honestly don't even know where to start.

It seems unreal that a week ago at this time, I was at my house in San Francisco, taking a nap and finishing up my final preparations for the 12:01am flight from San Francisco to Mexico city, then Mexico City to Buenos Aires.

Although maybe it makes a little more sense when I think about the fact that, between the 20+ hours I spent traveling to Argentina and the 10+ hours I spent traveling from Buenos Aires to Córdoba, I have been in transit almost a quarter of the past week.

I'm pretty exhausted.

Between arriving in Argentina and the bus ride to Córdoba, I attended four days of orientation in Buenos Aires. The first day was only a half day, and I had the morning to explore. I walked from the hotel to La plaza de mayo, one of the most important locations in Argentina, where La casa rosada (the presidential office) is and where las Madres de Plaza de Mayo still walk every Thursday in protest and memory of los desparecidos, the people "disappeared" during the military dictatorship, and los hijos apropiados, their children who were illegally adopted and given new families and new identities. After walking around the plaza (and seeing a whole lot of feminist/anarchist graffiti), I found one of the many librerías, or bookshops, around the city and finally bought a copy of Cien años de soledad, by Gabriel García Marquez, to (hopefully) read while I'm here (full disclosure: I've only made it through 4 pages so far).

After my morning excursion, I returned to the hotel to meet up with the Argentine Fulbright Commission representatives and the other grant recipients... and entered into a meeting entirely in Spanish. Which I probably shouldn't have been surprised by, but even after 8 years of Spanish in school, it was a bit of a shock to enter into orientation almost entirely in Spanish-- not to mention Spanish with an Argentine accent. Most people comment on the use of "vos" instead of "tú," but one of the things I had to get used to very quickly was that the "y" or "ll" sound is replaced with a "sh" sound... for instance, la lluvia (the rain) is pronounced "la shuvia." During one part of the orientation, someone was telling us about how we might have people calling us "shankee," and it took me several minutes to finally figure out what that meant... were we expected to shank someone?? Was someone going to shank us?? Was it something to do with "janky"? And then I finally realized-- not "shankee" but "Yankee"... just with the "y" sound replaced by "sh."

So far I think my favorite part of this trip has been meeting all of the other grant recipients, each of whom are incredibly friendly and unique. After long days in meetings from 8:30am-6:00pm, we would get together to travel around the city a bit, exploring some restaurants, different neighborhoods-- even catching a tango performance in a small plaza in the San Telmo barrio of Buenos Aires. Even though it was only four days, it was sad to see everyone split off to their different sites.

Ah, and that was where things got harder. After those days of orientation and exploring, I stayed up at the hotel trying desperately to figure out what was supposed to happen with my visa de courtesia (the 6-month visa that I wasn't able to get before leaving the States, and thus am currently here on a 90-day tourist visa), what I was supposed to be teaching, and where I was going to actually live when I got to Córdoba. The three-week notice of acceptance I had for the grant was really not quite enough to get everything figured out, and I've felt kinda frantic about it all. By the time I was leaving for Córdoba, though, I had successfully printed my ticket for an ómnibus from Buenos Aires to Córdoba and located an Airbnb for a reasonable price with a host who, somehow, also happened to be friendly vegetarian artist with a cat who does yoga (sound like a good match, much?).
((edit: the host does yoga. although actually, from the morning stretches I've seen, the cat does yoga too.))

The bus ride wasn't quite as smooth as it good have been. One other grant recipient was traveling with me to Córdoba, though, so at least I wasn't alone. At about 7:30pm, over an hour before our 8:45pm departure, we started trying to hail a taxi from the hotel... and repeatedly failed to find an available official Radio Taxi, to the point at which I was really starting to get anxious about time. I had walked to the bus terminal the other day, so I knew it wasn't far, but we had a whole lot of stuff to transport between the two of us. Finally we just called an Uber (which does exist in Buenos Aires, but appears not to anywhere else in Argentina). Cars in Argentina are NOT made to fit three large suitcases, one medium suitcase, a duffel, a backpack, and three humans... but the Uber driver was incredibly kind and patient with us and somehow we made it work.

When we got to Retiro, the bus terminal, we found that the platform numbers (yes: numbers, not number) listed on our tickets were actually just suggestions, and we had no idea which platform our bus would arrive to or whether it would actually be on time. After asking several of the other bus drivers, we figured out what general vicinity to wait in at about the exact same time the bus was supposed to be there, and were able to see it pull in. However, we realized that somehow the people who helped my fellow grant recipient print his ticket had accidentally printed a second version of MY ticket... and the instructions specifically said that people without a printed ticket would not be allowed to board. The drivers told my friend to run up to a kiosk to print it, which apparently didn't work, because after everyone else boarded the bus and I stood their with all of our bags trying to explain again why my compañero had the wrong ticket printed (and to stall for time until he could get it done), he came running back-- with no ticket. A heated discussion occurred between a group of the drivers and myself and my fellow grant recipient, until finally he was allowed to board after showing his passport.

Relieved that I was at long last on my way to an actual bed in my Airbnb in Córdoba, I settled into my reclining seat on the bus and watched the screen at the front, which was showing a black and white movie with Spanish subtitles. I was trying to figure out what movie it was (it looked like Audrey Hepburn, but I couldn't quite tell from where I was sitting toward the back) when one of the drivers walked out and started asking if anyone had seen it and what they thought.

I muttered No la he visto, "I haven't seen it," with no intention of actually getting a response. The driver looked at me and said ¿Sí? and I shook my head rapidly, since I knew nothing about the movie.

The driver laughed and announced to the whole bus Ella no entiende lo que estamos diciendo porque es extranjera, "She doesn't understand anything we're saying because she's a foreigner," to the general amusement of the bus.

I know that it was a joke, that this is probably exactly an example of cultural differences... but after a long day of trying and trying to get things right, I responded almost yelling ¡Entiendo por lo menos un poco!, "I understand at least a little!" Yeah, not a great comeback, I know, but honestly saying anything in Spanish is hard, and I can't even come up with snappy responses in English.

Okay okay, ella habla español-- "Okay okay, she speaks Spanish"-- he responded, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, still smiling. After a few more moments chatting with the passengers at the front of the bus, he returned to the drivers' area.

Now, I'm not actually upset that this happened, but I would be lying if I said I didn't spend the next 15 or so minutes fighting off tears.

It's true-- I am a foreigner. Even if my Spanish were perfect, it is obvious from my facial structure and the color of my skin and the way I dress and the way I act that I'm not from here. And I think one of the really important things about a cultural exchange like Fulbright is that we get a sense of what that feels like: to be a "foreigner," struggling to speak a language that is not your native tongue, struggling to learn the customs and expectations of a culture totally different from your own. Especially for citizens of the United States right now, this seems like such an important understanding to have. It is essential that instead of simply fearing those that we label as "other," "alien," "strange," or "foreigner," we are able to empathize with them.

My experience is not the same as many refugees and immigrants who come to the U.S. My decision to come to Argentina came from a place of privilege; I have a grant providing financial assistance, I know that my stay is temporary, and I arrive with a system of support both here and back in my country of origin. But even that small interaction, that label "extranjera" (which, of course, shares the same root as "extraña," or "strange"), is something that I want to remember, not because it was particularly pleasant but because it reminded me why intercultural exchange and empathy for those who are different is so important.

I hope, also, that it serves as a point that I can later look back to and see how much has changed over the coming months. On Saturday morning, when I finally arrived at my airbnb around 9am after very minimal sleep on the bus, I stumbled through a conversation with my airbnb host. As I headed to my room, she said she thought I came here to improve my Spanish, but my Spanish was already very good. So hey, there is that. And I managed to chat in Spanish for about 30 minutes or so with a young French-Russian traveler who is staying at the same Airbnb! And I understood pretty much the entire orientation. So I'm doing alright. And I know the language is going to be hard for the first couple months.

There are about a million more things I could write about-- like I said, so much has happened the past week I am still reeling. But I'll end this post with some photos from the last couple days-- it's not a great idea to have an iPhone out in public so there aren't as many as I'd like, but here are a few:

Beautiful clouds and mountains during the flight from Mexico City to Córdoba

Selfie while exploring some of the parks in Buenos Aires my first morning there-- if you look reeeeeeally closely, you might be able to see the rainbow flag hanging on one of the buildings in the background.