This evening I sub'd in for the Ambassador at a musical soiree hosted by the Sofitel Hotel in downtown Buenos Aires. It featured violinist Palbo Saravi and guitarrist Victor Villadangos, who played pieces by Niccolo Paganini, Carlos Guastavino, Jacques Ibert, Maura Giuliani, Maximo Pujol, and Astor Piazzolla.
We were served champagne in a beautifully appointed (yellow!) room, and my friend Vanna and I were seated in one of the reserved couches at the front of the room. It was a very small affair, with perhaps 50 people in attendance. To our left was the Ambassador to Belgium and to our right the Ambassador to New Zealand (who were both relatively nonplussed when they discovered we were basically nobodies).
The moment the music started, I couldn't help but think that this is what it felt like to be at a musical concert in the Victorian age (although back then I would have been more likely to exchange the grey suit for a more elegant dress). Without t.v. and the internet to entertain us, concerts and plays would have been the greatest source of amusement, other than a country ball.
And I completely fell in love, all over again, with the violin. Some of the pieces were tangoes, some not, but all were painfully, beautifully melancholy, with such a sweet air to them.
I did try to give the guitarrist his share of my attentions, because clearly he was a master at his craft, but I just couldn't look away from the violin for long. What a beautiful, beautiful instrument.
The only downside to the evening is the fact that I am just now going to bed, at midnight. Just five hours and forty-five minutes until the next work day starts for me. And to just think: some Argentines are just now going out for supper.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Feeling awkward
The life of a diplomat isn't always so glamorous.
No, seriously. Stop laughing. I wasn't joking.
There are many times when you have to attend functions that you don't want to be at, where you're thinking, "I could be at home in my pjs watching the Home Shopping Network," or, "Did I accidentally leave the stove on again?" And this is instead of paying attention to whatever awe-inspiring presentation is being given or conversation is being lobbed your way.
One would think that this should be the normal course of things for someone in the Foreign Service and, moreover, that the foreign service officer (FSO) would be all attentive and interested, but I have to admit that I am a very poor excuse for a FSO.
Well, add to that a foreign language and you can end up having some really long, and really painful, events. I was at a luncheon on Tuesday, hosted by a very active group of Argentine business owners, and I was subbing in for the Ambassador. Of course, having just recently arrived, I didn't know anyone, but my boss told me I had to go so I was there. On time. Unlike nearly everyone else.
My (clearly faulty) understanding was that, when it comes to business situations, things in Argentina will start on time. The luncheon was scheduled for 12:30. So I naturally arrived at 12:45. I believe I was the fifth attendee to arrive (out of 100-200). Talk about awkward.
We were not allowed into the main dining hall, of course, and were meant to mingle in the lobby, while servers weaved through the crowds, handing out appetizers and drinks. Two very unfortunate things immediately crossed my mind:
So my new friend Wency was the perfect gentleman, introducing me to all the other business leaders and entourages as they arrived, trying his damnedest to make me feel welcome. I think, actually, that he enjoyed meeting someone outside of the norm, and I'm sure it helped that I was a good 30 years younger than most of the other attendees (and also one of the only women). So it was a good fit, me and Wency, until we had cocktail-hour'd our way through 1 1/2 hours and it was time to actually sit in the dining room - at our assigned tables. Wency and I were split up. Drats again!
At this point, I was so hungry I could hardly focus on anything other people were saying. If you've never learned a foreign language before, or if you're one of those people who are really talented linguistically, you might not understand how much constant focus it requires to partake in a conversation in a foreign language. Noting that I usually eat lunch at 11:30AM and snack pretty much all the time, on this particular day it was approaching 2PM and I still hadn't eaten a damn thing so my concentration was somewhere along the negative scale.
Which ended up being fine, actually, because here is what happened: everyone did the whole, "Buenas tardes, Soy --, mucho gusto conocerle..." with a healthy dose of cheek-kissing, we sat down in our assigned seats, and then the two people on either side of me immediately turned to the person on the other side of them and began long, drawn-out conversations. So I just sat there like a dumb mute. It was awesome. And by "awesome," I mean "awkward."
Then, they still didn't give me any food. The program included a presentation by one of the presidential candidates (elections are in October 2011) so there would be no food until he had spoken. So the only thing the servers dropped on the table was a small bowl of breads and breadsticks, water and wine.
The presidential hopeful began his remarks and I tried my darnedest to listen, but I don't know if it was the lack of food that made me a little nutty, or his heavy accent/use of lunfardo/inability not to mumble, but I understood maybe 1 in every 50 words - not enough to get even the tiniest hope of an understanding of what was being said. The dumb mute routine continued.
When he finally stopped speaking, we were (finally!) served lunch. You will not be surprised to know that it was a steak, with a vegetable or two for garnish. I ate as delicately as I could, which was near impossible as I was freakin' ravenous. My table-mates continued to ignore me. One even fell asleep - that was pretty sweet.
Then there was a question-answer session with the presidential hopeful - thankfully they served dessert while he was speaking, so I could have something to do other than sit there and look like I understood the words coming out of his mouth.
Suffice to say that I felt really inadequate to the task.
As soon as the program was over, I kissed all the Argentine cheeks within a ten-foot radius that I could see, and then made a mad dash for the door, my tail very much between my legs.
But, it couldn't be that easy. The woman who organized the event stopped me at the door to introduce herself and tell me how wonderful it is to have a representative of the U.S. Embassy at the event. She was gracious enough to invite me to the lunches whenever it is that the Ambassador can't be there. I think I did pretty well, when I expressed how interesting the event was and thanked her kindly for the invitation.
Yet as soon as there was an opening, I 50-yard-dashed it for the ladies room. And then I was out of the hotel like a shot - FOUR HOURS LATER.
Clearly, I still have a lot of work to do.
No, seriously. Stop laughing. I wasn't joking.
There are many times when you have to attend functions that you don't want to be at, where you're thinking, "I could be at home in my pjs watching the Home Shopping Network," or, "Did I accidentally leave the stove on again?" And this is instead of paying attention to whatever awe-inspiring presentation is being given or conversation is being lobbed your way.
One would think that this should be the normal course of things for someone in the Foreign Service and, moreover, that the foreign service officer (FSO) would be all attentive and interested, but I have to admit that I am a very poor excuse for a FSO.
Well, add to that a foreign language and you can end up having some really long, and really painful, events. I was at a luncheon on Tuesday, hosted by a very active group of Argentine business owners, and I was subbing in for the Ambassador. Of course, having just recently arrived, I didn't know anyone, but my boss told me I had to go so I was there. On time. Unlike nearly everyone else.
My (clearly faulty) understanding was that, when it comes to business situations, things in Argentina will start on time. The luncheon was scheduled for 12:30. So I naturally arrived at 12:45. I believe I was the fifth attendee to arrive (out of 100-200). Talk about awkward.
We were not allowed into the main dining hall, of course, and were meant to mingle in the lobby, while servers weaved through the crowds, handing out appetizers and drinks. Two very unfortunate things immediately crossed my mind:
- Being a natural-born klutz, I could not eat anything on offer if I did not want to wear it on my suit or introduce myself to people with something nasty and green between my front teeth. It would also impede my newly developed, quick-action business-card-giving skill. Mad skill, yo.
- Of the five of us that were there, I didn't know 4 of them, but I was going to have to grow a pair and go introduce myself to at least one of them. Even more unfortunately for me, most of these people actually knew each other, so they were already clumping in small groups...drats!
So my new friend Wency was the perfect gentleman, introducing me to all the other business leaders and entourages as they arrived, trying his damnedest to make me feel welcome. I think, actually, that he enjoyed meeting someone outside of the norm, and I'm sure it helped that I was a good 30 years younger than most of the other attendees (and also one of the only women). So it was a good fit, me and Wency, until we had cocktail-hour'd our way through 1 1/2 hours and it was time to actually sit in the dining room - at our assigned tables. Wency and I were split up. Drats again!
At this point, I was so hungry I could hardly focus on anything other people were saying. If you've never learned a foreign language before, or if you're one of those people who are really talented linguistically, you might not understand how much constant focus it requires to partake in a conversation in a foreign language. Noting that I usually eat lunch at 11:30AM and snack pretty much all the time, on this particular day it was approaching 2PM and I still hadn't eaten a damn thing so my concentration was somewhere along the negative scale.
Which ended up being fine, actually, because here is what happened: everyone did the whole, "Buenas tardes, Soy --, mucho gusto conocerle..." with a healthy dose of cheek-kissing, we sat down in our assigned seats, and then the two people on either side of me immediately turned to the person on the other side of them and began long, drawn-out conversations. So I just sat there like a dumb mute. It was awesome. And by "awesome," I mean "awkward."
Then, they still didn't give me any food. The program included a presentation by one of the presidential candidates (elections are in October 2011) so there would be no food until he had spoken. So the only thing the servers dropped on the table was a small bowl of breads and breadsticks, water and wine.
The presidential hopeful began his remarks and I tried my darnedest to listen, but I don't know if it was the lack of food that made me a little nutty, or his heavy accent/use of lunfardo/inability not to mumble, but I understood maybe 1 in every 50 words - not enough to get even the tiniest hope of an understanding of what was being said. The dumb mute routine continued.
When he finally stopped speaking, we were (finally!) served lunch. You will not be surprised to know that it was a steak, with a vegetable or two for garnish. I ate as delicately as I could, which was near impossible as I was freakin' ravenous. My table-mates continued to ignore me. One even fell asleep - that was pretty sweet.
Then there was a question-answer session with the presidential hopeful - thankfully they served dessert while he was speaking, so I could have something to do other than sit there and look like I understood the words coming out of his mouth.
Suffice to say that I felt really inadequate to the task.
As soon as the program was over, I kissed all the Argentine cheeks within a ten-foot radius that I could see, and then made a mad dash for the door, my tail very much between my legs.
But, it couldn't be that easy. The woman who organized the event stopped me at the door to introduce herself and tell me how wonderful it is to have a representative of the U.S. Embassy at the event. She was gracious enough to invite me to the lunches whenever it is that the Ambassador can't be there. I think I did pretty well, when I expressed how interesting the event was and thanked her kindly for the invitation.
Yet as soon as there was an opening, I 50-yard-dashed it for the ladies room. And then I was out of the hotel like a shot - FOUR HOURS LATER.
Clearly, I still have a lot of work to do.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Success!
Two more things have been checked off of my list of things to do to settle in to Buenos Aires:
- Harass the good people down in shipping until my unaccompanied air baggage (UAB) arrives: if you recall, UAB is the 250lbs of random crap we get to ship to ourselves faster than the rest of our household crap (also known as HHE, or household effects). When Anthony and I moved to Peru, it took our UAB 5 months to reach us; in Mexico, it took about a month; here in Buenos Aires, I've got them down to 3 weeks. And now I have my winter coat, my gym gloves, dog food for Maggie, and a whole bunch of random toiletries, just to name a few things that I am appreciating at the moment.
- I. Have. Internet. I cannot stress this enough: internet is the world traveler's LIFESAVER. Although it took weeks to figure out who Miguel Delfino is (the guy whose name is on my bill) so I could just get some freakin' WiFi service (long story), you are now free to Skype me at any time. I've got my headphones and I'm waiting. Bueller...?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
