Now that I am sliding into the end of my time here in Argentina, I have begun to think about the things I will miss about being here. To be honest, while my dating life has been nonexistent (not a complaint, I promise!), I have really enjoyed all the random men that have walked into my life. All those aged porteros, maintenance folks, and strangers on the street who just want to see you smile, if only for a moment, with a friendly "Como andas, linda?" or a "Hermosa, que tal?" or "Amor, como te va?" or "Corazon, tan linda..." - all variations on the theme of how beautiful they think I am. It's not that they think they'll get anywhere by saying it, but hey, if something happens, they won't fight it either.
Just the other night, I was walking Maggie and the old Italian gentleman who moved here with his parents when very young and now owns one of the neighborhood parillas stopped me to talk about local politics. At the end of five minutes, he commented that we should have a coffee soon and chat more, noting that I was such a bonbom. Which is true, I am very sweet. Or that I just listened to him and agreed with everything he said. One of the two.
It is these exact moments that I will miss here. The easy way Argentines have in becoming familiar with you, always with a smile no matter what.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
It's baaaaack!
Although it is unlikely to make front page news, Congress is once again debating whether to continue paying Foreign Service Officers Overseas Comparability Pay (OCP). This time around, they're slipping it into the appropriations bill - if the bill mentions OCP, some/all of it will get funded; if not, it will amount to a 16% pay cut for me and many of my colleagues.
This is what we call "disincentivizing" overseas assignments. Not only do our colleagues get paid more for taking Washington, DC, assignments under a non-OCP system, they will also contribute more to their pensions, which, with interest included, amounts to a significant difference in retirement benefits over time.
This really shouldn't be the case. Foreign Service personnel should be serving the majority of their careers overseas. We can't help build institutions in places like Afghanistan and Iraq by sitting behind a desk in Washington. And we certainly can't negotiate treaties on everything from trade to fisheries via Skype. Diplomacy is a face-to-face initiative that takes real skill, heart, integrity, and intellect. We can't conduct our foreign policy only from Washington. We must get out into the world. And we must compensate Foreign Service Officers for the experience, drive and passion they bring to public service, often in the most trying of circumstances (I am clearly not referencing my relatively cushy lifestyle here in Buenos Aires - the vast majority of the places in which we serve offer up many dangers and pitfalls, from gunfire to dengue fever to cholera to nonpotable water and beyond.)
I think John Kerry (WOOT! WOOT! Massachusetts!) worded it quite nicely in today's Washington Post:
At this time of budget crisis, a United States senator defending foreign aid might well be advised to get examined by a political consultant if not a mental health professional. But right now it’s more urgent than ever that those of us who believe in robust American leadership step up and articulate the dangers of American retrenchment. Many question whether we can afford foreign aid and development investments, but the reality – however hard to swallow – is that we can’t afford not to.
Energetic global leadership is a strategic imperative for America, not a favor we do for other countries. It amplifies America's voice and extends our reach. In a world growing more not less interdependent, slashing foreign aid and development investments is a formula for isolation and shrinking influence. America can't opt out of a networked world.
The drought in Somalia today is the most recent devastating example. We face tremendous foreign policy and national security challenges worldwide, from leading humanitarian responses to such famine; to helping countries manage peaceful, democratic transitions in the Middle East; to preventing violence, conflict and terrorism from engulfing key partners.
Is there a cost to taxpayers? Of course. But all of our foreign aid programs and foreign policy initiatives— from sending diplomats to Afghanistan to helping reverse the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Africa—barely make up 1 percent of the annual budget. It is a relatively small investment for such a great return. This year alone we will spend approximately $700 billion on our military. The entire international affairs budget is less than one-tenth of that. As former Secretary Gates once pointed out, if you took the entire Foreign Service roster, you could barely staff one aircraft carrier.
And yet our diplomats are serving on the frontlines of multiple revolutions and wars. They are making vital contributions in Afghanistan, and in Iraq they are planning the transition from a military mission to a diplomatic one so that we can cement the political progress that has cost hundreds of billions of dollars and thousands of American lives. Surely in a tax code spanning more than 72,000 pages of expenditures – many of which are proven to generate no economic activity – we can find the cuts to preserve our investment in reducing security threats, in opening markets for American businesses, and in creating opportunities for American leadership.
Last week, I introduced a bill that would help advance key diplomatic and foreign policy priorities worldwide. Building our nation’s civilian capacity and providing our diplomatic corps with the essential tools to succeed in the demanding jobs we continually require of them is essential. To get the job done, we need our diplomats.
As President John F. Kennedy pointedly articulated at the founding of USAID in 1961, “Widespread poverty and chaos lead to a collapse of existing political and social structures which would inevitably invite the advance of totalitarianism into every weak and unstable area. Thus our own security would be endangered and our prosperity imperiled.”
This is all too true.
Failed states are a leading indicator for future instability and conflict. We learned this hard lesson in Afghanistan, and we continue to learn this lesson from other countries today. We no longer have the luxury of isolationism as a fallback, though I don’t believe we really ever did. If we pulled all of our diplomats back to Washington, closed down all of our development programs, and proclaimed to the world that we wanted nothing more than to be left alone, those who want to do us harm would still find us, and our national security would be even more imperiled.
We can either pay now to help brave people build a better, democratic future for themselves or we will certainly pay later with increased threats to our own national security. In Africa, we are helping to midwife the birth of a new nation in South Sudan and to resolve the situation in Darfur. We are leading the fight against global challenges, like nuclear proliferation and climate change. And in countless communities around the world we are providing essential humanitarian assistance.
Why do we do this? Because it’s who we are. It’s in America’s DNA – from the Marshall Plan to our response to the earthquakes in Pakistan and Haiti.
Do we need to do a better job of unabashedly sharing with the American people why we undertake humanitarian and development programs and what benefits we get from them? Yes. By showing the world that we comprehend, and share, their destiny we engender goodwill and strengthen critical partnerships. And of course we must keep working to improve the effectiveness and efficiency of the programs we implement. We cannot rest on our laurels.
But on one point we must remain resolute: This is not time for America to pull back from the world. This is a time to step forward.
This is what we call "disincentivizing" overseas assignments. Not only do our colleagues get paid more for taking Washington, DC, assignments under a non-OCP system, they will also contribute more to their pensions, which, with interest included, amounts to a significant difference in retirement benefits over time.
This really shouldn't be the case. Foreign Service personnel should be serving the majority of their careers overseas. We can't help build institutions in places like Afghanistan and Iraq by sitting behind a desk in Washington. And we certainly can't negotiate treaties on everything from trade to fisheries via Skype. Diplomacy is a face-to-face initiative that takes real skill, heart, integrity, and intellect. We can't conduct our foreign policy only from Washington. We must get out into the world. And we must compensate Foreign Service Officers for the experience, drive and passion they bring to public service, often in the most trying of circumstances (I am clearly not referencing my relatively cushy lifestyle here in Buenos Aires - the vast majority of the places in which we serve offer up many dangers and pitfalls, from gunfire to dengue fever to cholera to nonpotable water and beyond.)
I think John Kerry (WOOT! WOOT! Massachusetts!) worded it quite nicely in today's Washington Post:
Amid budget crisis, a defense of foreign aid
By Sen. John Kerry, Updated: Wednesday, August 3, 9:08 AM
This piece is part of a leadership roundtable on U.S. foreign aid, in light of the crisis in Somalia — with opinion pieces by Sen. John Kerry, Fletcher School Professor Astier M. Almedom, Share Our Strength Founder Bill Shore,Wharton School Professor Stuart Diamond, and Executives Without Borders CEO Robert Goodwin.At this time of budget crisis, a United States senator defending foreign aid might well be advised to get examined by a political consultant if not a mental health professional. But right now it’s more urgent than ever that those of us who believe in robust American leadership step up and articulate the dangers of American retrenchment. Many question whether we can afford foreign aid and development investments, but the reality – however hard to swallow – is that we can’t afford not to.
Energetic global leadership is a strategic imperative for America, not a favor we do for other countries. It amplifies America's voice and extends our reach. In a world growing more not less interdependent, slashing foreign aid and development investments is a formula for isolation and shrinking influence. America can't opt out of a networked world.
The drought in Somalia today is the most recent devastating example. We face tremendous foreign policy and national security challenges worldwide, from leading humanitarian responses to such famine; to helping countries manage peaceful, democratic transitions in the Middle East; to preventing violence, conflict and terrorism from engulfing key partners.
Is there a cost to taxpayers? Of course. But all of our foreign aid programs and foreign policy initiatives— from sending diplomats to Afghanistan to helping reverse the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Africa—barely make up 1 percent of the annual budget. It is a relatively small investment for such a great return. This year alone we will spend approximately $700 billion on our military. The entire international affairs budget is less than one-tenth of that. As former Secretary Gates once pointed out, if you took the entire Foreign Service roster, you could barely staff one aircraft carrier.
And yet our diplomats are serving on the frontlines of multiple revolutions and wars. They are making vital contributions in Afghanistan, and in Iraq they are planning the transition from a military mission to a diplomatic one so that we can cement the political progress that has cost hundreds of billions of dollars and thousands of American lives. Surely in a tax code spanning more than 72,000 pages of expenditures – many of which are proven to generate no economic activity – we can find the cuts to preserve our investment in reducing security threats, in opening markets for American businesses, and in creating opportunities for American leadership.
Last week, I introduced a bill that would help advance key diplomatic and foreign policy priorities worldwide. Building our nation’s civilian capacity and providing our diplomatic corps with the essential tools to succeed in the demanding jobs we continually require of them is essential. To get the job done, we need our diplomats.
As President John F. Kennedy pointedly articulated at the founding of USAID in 1961, “Widespread poverty and chaos lead to a collapse of existing political and social structures which would inevitably invite the advance of totalitarianism into every weak and unstable area. Thus our own security would be endangered and our prosperity imperiled.”
This is all too true.
Failed states are a leading indicator for future instability and conflict. We learned this hard lesson in Afghanistan, and we continue to learn this lesson from other countries today. We no longer have the luxury of isolationism as a fallback, though I don’t believe we really ever did. If we pulled all of our diplomats back to Washington, closed down all of our development programs, and proclaimed to the world that we wanted nothing more than to be left alone, those who want to do us harm would still find us, and our national security would be even more imperiled.
We can either pay now to help brave people build a better, democratic future for themselves or we will certainly pay later with increased threats to our own national security. In Africa, we are helping to midwife the birth of a new nation in South Sudan and to resolve the situation in Darfur. We are leading the fight against global challenges, like nuclear proliferation and climate change. And in countless communities around the world we are providing essential humanitarian assistance.
Why do we do this? Because it’s who we are. It’s in America’s DNA – from the Marshall Plan to our response to the earthquakes in Pakistan and Haiti.
Do we need to do a better job of unabashedly sharing with the American people why we undertake humanitarian and development programs and what benefits we get from them? Yes. By showing the world that we comprehend, and share, their destiny we engender goodwill and strengthen critical partnerships. And of course we must keep working to improve the effectiveness and efficiency of the programs we implement. We cannot rest on our laurels.
But on one point we must remain resolute: This is not time for America to pull back from the world. This is a time to step forward.
Sen. John Kerry is the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. He has served in the U.S. Senate since 1985 and was the 2004 Democratic candidate for president.
Friday, April 29, 2011
On Uruguayan men
Turns out Uruguayan men are just as macho and overly confident as Argentine men.
A few weekends ago, I'm in Montevideo, visiting my friend Kaitlin, and we're standing by the guard shack at the Marine House, waiting for our cab, when...a group of Uruguayans walk past to leave the party. One of them breaks off from the pack and approaches Kaitlin and I, saying:
"You two are the most beautiful girls here." (We glance around. There are no other girls in sight.) "Especially you with glasses." (Katilin happened to be wearing her reading glasses that night.) (Meanwhile, all his friends leave the party, totally ditching him as he embarks on the hopeless quest of landing himself a gringa for the night.)
As if it could possibly go any other way, the conversation quickly goes downhill. Next thing I know, Kaitlin is somehow planting the idea of a threesome in this poor Uruguayan's head, then says something incoherent about how she isn't interested, but maybe she can watch him and I. Please note: KAITLIN WAS NOT DRUNK. She just wasn't paying attention to what she was saying.
So Uruguayan man turns to me and says, "What do you like about Latin men?"
I dance around the subject, lacking any sense of commitment: "They're all so different; it's hard to say."
He responds, "What kind of Latin do you like best?"
Again, "They're all so different; it's hard to say."
Kaitlin jumps in with, "I like Brazilian men." Very confident. Very much in the vein of "You're wasting my time, Uruguayan man, I prefer Brazilians."
To which our little Uruguayan friend says, in his broken, but easily understood English, "Brazilian men, small penis. Uruguayan men..." and he holds his hands about ten inches apart from one another "...wide."
And he was so earnest, so hopeful in his less-than-sober appeal for us to take him home that night and rock his world. It took all my willpower to not laugh my ass off.
A few weekends ago, I'm in Montevideo, visiting my friend Kaitlin, and we're standing by the guard shack at the Marine House, waiting for our cab, when...a group of Uruguayans walk past to leave the party. One of them breaks off from the pack and approaches Kaitlin and I, saying:
"You two are the most beautiful girls here." (We glance around. There are no other girls in sight.) "Especially you with glasses." (Katilin happened to be wearing her reading glasses that night.) (Meanwhile, all his friends leave the party, totally ditching him as he embarks on the hopeless quest of landing himself a gringa for the night.)
As if it could possibly go any other way, the conversation quickly goes downhill. Next thing I know, Kaitlin is somehow planting the idea of a threesome in this poor Uruguayan's head, then says something incoherent about how she isn't interested, but maybe she can watch him and I. Please note: KAITLIN WAS NOT DRUNK. She just wasn't paying attention to what she was saying.
So Uruguayan man turns to me and says, "What do you like about Latin men?"
I dance around the subject, lacking any sense of commitment: "They're all so different; it's hard to say."
He responds, "What kind of Latin do you like best?"
Again, "They're all so different; it's hard to say."
Kaitlin jumps in with, "I like Brazilian men." Very confident. Very much in the vein of "You're wasting my time, Uruguayan man, I prefer Brazilians."
To which our little Uruguayan friend says, in his broken, but easily understood English, "Brazilian men, small penis. Uruguayan men..." and he holds his hands about ten inches apart from one another "...wide."
And he was so earnest, so hopeful in his less-than-sober appeal for us to take him home that night and rock his world. It took all my willpower to not laugh my ass off.
Sunday, April 03, 2011
Participating in the political process
I probably didn't make an ounce of sense in my last post about Overseas Comparability Pay, but I did finally find the time to send a letter to my representatives in Congress: Senators Kerry and Brown, and Representative McGovern. Since this is an important issue for me and for my Foreign Service colleagues (and friends!) - and also because it might be more clear than my previous post, I'm reposting the letter I sent below:
Dear Representative/Senator:
My name is Ryan Janda and I am in the United States Foreign Service. I have served in Peru, Mexico and currently in Argentina. I am also your constituent.
I am writing in my individual capacity as a constituent. I support efforts to eliminate wasteful and unnecessary spending across all our federal agencies as part of the effort to reduce our national deficit. However, I am concerned by current legislative proposals that call for reversing a carefully considered bi-partisan plan to modernize the pay system of the Foreign Service that is in the process of being implemented.
The Federal Employees Pay Comparability Act of 1990 was adopted as a way to reduce the government-wide disparity between the public and private sectors and is a basic component of salary for all civilian Federal employees, based on annual survey data collected by the Department of Labor. As a result of this law, every federal government employee working in the United States received “locality pay” as part of their salary. Until 2009, the only United States government civilian employees who did not receive this part of their salary were Foreign Service personnel serving their country overseas.
Locality pay for Foreign Service personnel and other federal employees serving in Washington, D.C. is now approximately 25%. Under the law prior to 2009, Foreign Service personnel serving abroad sacrificed this part of their salaries and took large pay cuts to their base salaries. As a result, because retirement packages are based upon base pay (including “locality pay”), Foreign Service officers representing their country abroad received smaller retirement packages than their colleagues who stayed in Washington. This was not sustainable and in 2009 a bi-partisan solution was found to correct this policy problem. Closing the pay gap is not a pay raise – it is a correction of a 17- year-old unintended inequity in the worldwide Foreign Service pay schedule – an inequity that grew every year.
Today thousands of Foreign Service employees serve in hardship assignments around the globe, which now constitute nearly 60% of all posts. The number of unaccompanied posts has increased more than fivefold in the last decade. Assignments overseas are increasingly challenging, difficult and in many instances, dangerous. In my own experience living along the border between Arizona and Mexico, I listened from my bedroom many nights as rival drug gangs shot at each other down the block from my home. Many mornings we would wake up to find that more bodies had been dumped in empty lots around our neighborhood. Yet this didn’t dissuade any member of Consulate Nogales from showing up for work every day to help American citizens, increase bilateral cooperation on security and business initiatives, and respond to the hundreds of daily requests for visas. Although this is just a small glimpse of my own personal experience, I know that my colleagues in Egypt, Bahrain, Libya, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Pakistan, among a host of others, are living and working in much more stressful environments, doing what they can to advance American interests abroad.
Due in large part to my colleagues’ unceasing and highly successful efforts to promote peace and development overseas, there has been strong bipartisan recognition that it is time to invest in diplomacy and development. Penalizing Foreign Service employees whose mission is to serve overseas to advance and protect our national interests by cutting their base pay undervalues the importance of their work, widens the gap between those serving in the United States and those facing hardships and sacrifices overseas and creates real disincentives to serving on the front lines of American diplomacy and development.
I am proud to be a public servant and honored to be a member of our State Department Foreign Service. I hope that you will support the Foreign Service and help ensure that its members are not penalized for service overseas.
Sincerely,
Ryan
Saturday, April 02, 2011
Amigos
For the first time in a very long time - maybe even ever - I had Jeff and Liz's undivided attention for ten whole days. Here in Buenos Aires, and then in Puerto Iguazu and Colonia. It was AWESOME.
I already wish they would come back.
I already wish they would come back.
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| Lovin' the Falls! |
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| The three amigos... |
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Spoke too soon
Like I've said before, and I will likely say again many times over the course of my career, I am very happy to have both a paycheck and health insurance. So when I complain about my job, it's because someone or some event out of my control has made things difficult or frustrating for me - this has nothing to do with my overall pride in serving my country as a Foreign Service Officer, or the joy I get out of working with so many talented professionals. Overall, I am happy with my work, I am happy with my colleagues, and I am happy with the life that I am blessed to lead.
That being said, there are a couple of issues currently ongoing that greatly affect my livelihood. These issues are complex, but I will try to summarize them for you so you can understand why they are so important to me and my fellow colleagues:
1. As you may or may not be aware, the government of the United States is currently operating under a "continuing resolution." What this essentially means is that our Congress has failed to agree on the 2011 budget and the U.S. Government is operating on a budget $6 billion lower than 2010 budget numbers until April 8. If, for any reason, Congress fails to agree on a budget and does not authorize another continuing resolution by April 8, the whole government (except for essential personnel) will go on furlough until a new continuing resolution or a 2011 budget passes. This means that we will not get paid for several weeks. When this last happened in 1995-1996, the government lost millions of dollars because of this and eventually did retroactively pay government employees for the furloughed time. This is not guaranteed this time, nor do any politicians want to see this happen again, as it is a very messy process and makes our Congress and our government look very, very bad. More related to the State Department, the Congress is seeking to cut $100 billion from the budget, as suggested by the House Appropriations Committee to meet their commitment to reduce U.S. debt. Both President Obama and Congress have stated that the majority of cuts will come from discretionary, non-National Security spending. Unfortunately for me and my colleagues, many of our Representatives and Senators do not feel that the work that we do classifies as National Security efforts. Without a natural constituency (such as that which the Department of Defense enjoys with its military bases in every state) or a strong professional lobby, that means that the State Department and USAID budgets are often the first to be slashed. It's an easy cut - it doesn't offend the voters in congressional and senatorial districts and our representatives get to look like they are making strong efforts to balance the budget (even though our budgets may represent less than 1% of the total federal budget). Over the long term, that means that we have fewer resources to meet an ever-growing list of initiatives that must be done, often to keep the peace or extend multi-lateral relations. We are lucky that we do have some defenders, and I strongly urge you to write to your representatives in Congress to let them know how you feel about this issue. I promise you I am doing the same.
As an excerpt from Senator Patrick Leahy's (D-VT) argument for counting the State Department and USAID as National Security initiatives, I give you this:
3. Let's talk about that 2-year wage freeze. I've already talked about how this relates to our Overseas Comparability Pay, but I haven't yet touched on a wider issue: that of our Foreign Service Nationals (FSNs). In every U.S. embassy and consulate overseas, we have a host of local employees (usually from the host country, sometimes from a third country) that form an integral and necessary part of our staff. I don't pretend to know all of the laws and regulations affecting their pay and benefits, but I do know these two things: their salaries are paid in the local currency (here in Argentina, that makes it the Argentine peso), and, as U.S. government employees, they are subject to the 2-year wage freeze. Without going into too much detail (partly to keep myself from appearing incredibly ignorant by publishing incorrect or badly understood information), let me just say that this is wreaking havoc on our FSNs. Largely due to perceived wage increase injustices in the past (whether or not that is true, I cannot say) and the fact that Argentina "enjoys" one of the highest rates of inflation in the world (not currently recognized by their government however), this has been very traumatic for our Argentine staff. As you can easily guess, on top of greatly affecting their purchasing power (many have to find new housing, move their children into different school systems, and make other life-altering household budget cuts), this is also harmful to our FSN-American staff relationship. We are working to remedy this situation as best we can here, but progress is rocky at best. It is easy for us, as Americans, to say, "Well, if the work environment is so bad, just leave," but this alternative is not available to all our staff. Hiring practices in Argentina are not the same as they are in the U.S. and the EEO laws are certainly not on par. More and more young adults are finding that their advanced degrees do not help them land jobs and are increasingly living at home with their families for even longer periods of time. On the older end of the scale, it is my understanding that there is a lot of age-ism practiced here - if you're over a certain age, your hireability apparently drops off a cliff. I've even been told that if you don't "look the part," you don't get hired. These limitations make it such that, even with the wage freeze, a job at the U.S. embassy is still one of the most appealing options out there (despite our not very Argentine work hours).
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So you can see that I and my colleagues are closely watching our Congress (and the rest of our government), waiting to see how we will fare over the coming months. We are committed to doing our part to elevate the reputation of the United States abroad; to working with our foreign counterparts to create a more receptive environment for U.S. business interests and peace; and to sharing our culture with the rest of the world. But it is certainly frustrating to see that our jobs are often misunderstood or poorly imagined by our compatriots at home, so badly so that no one bats an eye as our budget gets massacred because our Foreign Service is viewed as "discretionary" spending. In the end, we will certainly make do with the budget we are authorized, but as our resources dwindle, so too does our ability to make forward progress.
That being said, there are a couple of issues currently ongoing that greatly affect my livelihood. These issues are complex, but I will try to summarize them for you so you can understand why they are so important to me and my fellow colleagues:
1. As you may or may not be aware, the government of the United States is currently operating under a "continuing resolution." What this essentially means is that our Congress has failed to agree on the 2011 budget and the U.S. Government is operating on a budget $6 billion lower than 2010 budget numbers until April 8. If, for any reason, Congress fails to agree on a budget and does not authorize another continuing resolution by April 8, the whole government (except for essential personnel) will go on furlough until a new continuing resolution or a 2011 budget passes. This means that we will not get paid for several weeks. When this last happened in 1995-1996, the government lost millions of dollars because of this and eventually did retroactively pay government employees for the furloughed time. This is not guaranteed this time, nor do any politicians want to see this happen again, as it is a very messy process and makes our Congress and our government look very, very bad. More related to the State Department, the Congress is seeking to cut $100 billion from the budget, as suggested by the House Appropriations Committee to meet their commitment to reduce U.S. debt. Both President Obama and Congress have stated that the majority of cuts will come from discretionary, non-National Security spending. Unfortunately for me and my colleagues, many of our Representatives and Senators do not feel that the work that we do classifies as National Security efforts. Without a natural constituency (such as that which the Department of Defense enjoys with its military bases in every state) or a strong professional lobby, that means that the State Department and USAID budgets are often the first to be slashed. It's an easy cut - it doesn't offend the voters in congressional and senatorial districts and our representatives get to look like they are making strong efforts to balance the budget (even though our budgets may represent less than 1% of the total federal budget). Over the long term, that means that we have fewer resources to meet an ever-growing list of initiatives that must be done, often to keep the peace or extend multi-lateral relations. We are lucky that we do have some defenders, and I strongly urge you to write to your representatives in Congress to let them know how you feel about this issue. I promise you I am doing the same.
As an excerpt from Senator Patrick Leahy's (D-VT) argument for counting the State Department and USAID as National Security initiatives, I give you this:
"Our Republican friends in the House should know that we cannot counter the influence of al Qaida and other violent extremists through military force alone. They should know that helping countries such as Southern Sudan rebuild after conflict, building stable democratic institutions in countries such as Egypt, preventing the trafficking of nuclear material and other weapons in the former Soviet Union, educating and providing jobs for youth who would otherwise be fodder for terrorist recruiters in the Middle East, combating the corrosive influence of organized crime in Central America, preventing the spread of deadly viruses in Africa and Asia—viruses that are only one airplane ride away from the United States—or supporting NATO, the International Atomic Energy Agency, or U.N. peacekeeping—these are all parts of our national security. It is the diplomats here and abroad, and the funds they administer, that help make U.S. leadership possible around the world."2. One of the State Department budget items that has strongly come under attack is a pesky line item called Overseas Comparability Pay. In the face of the two-year wage freeze that President Obama imposed on the federal government, many in our current Congress believe that this constitutes a salary raise, when in fact, it is not. The best description I have seen comes from the form letter the American Foreign Service Association (AFSA) provided us to send to our representatives in Congress:
"The Federal Employees Pay Comparability Act of 1990 was adopted as a way to reduce the government-wide disparity between the public and private sectors and is a basic component of salary for all civilian Federal employees, based on annual survey data collected by the Department of Labor. As a result of this law, every federal government employee working in the United States received “locality pay” as part of their salary. Until 2009, the only United States government civilian employees who did not receive this part of their salary were Foreign Service personnel serving their country overseas.
Locality pay for Foreign Service personnel and other federal employees serving in Washington, D.C. is now approximately 25%. Under the law prior to 2009, Foreign Service personnel serving abroad sacrificed this part of their salaries and took large pay cuts to their base salaries. As a result, because retirement packages are based upon base pay (including “locality pay”), Foreign Service officers representing their country abroad received smaller retirement packages than their colleagues who stayed in Washington. This was not sustainable and in 2009 a bi-partisan solution was found to correct this policy problem. Closing the pay gap is not a pay raise -- it is a correction of a 17- year-old unintended inequity in the worldwide Foreign Service pay schedule—an inequity that grew every year.
Today thousands of Foreign Service employees serve in hardship assignments around the globe, which now constitute nearly 60% of all posts. The number of unaccompanied posts has increased more than fivefold in the last decade. Assignments overseas are increasingly challenging, difficult and in many instances, dangerous. There has been strong bipartisan recognition that it is time to invest in diplomacy and development. Penalizing Foreign Service employees whose mission is to serve overseas to advance and protect our national interests by cutting their base pay undervalues the importance of their work, widens the gap between those serving in the United States and those facing hardships and sacrifices overseas and creates real disincentives to serving on the front lines of American diplomacy and development."So, as you can see, Overseas Comparability Pay is incredibly important to me and my colleagues, as it determines our contributions to retirement and puts us on an even playing field with our civil service counterparts. Moreover, our civil service colleagues often do not have to choose between their jobs and the ability of their spouses to have a fulfilling career that contributes to household finances. In righting an inequity in our overseas payscale, Overseas Comparability Pay allows our Foreign Service families to be able to better afford to serve our country, even when our spouses cannot work. A much more organized and compelling argument was made previously by a friend whose wife has an engineering degree and has the difficulty of trying to find work every few years, except in those countries where we have no bilateral agreements that allow it. I encourage you to read his story.
3. Let's talk about that 2-year wage freeze. I've already talked about how this relates to our Overseas Comparability Pay, but I haven't yet touched on a wider issue: that of our Foreign Service Nationals (FSNs). In every U.S. embassy and consulate overseas, we have a host of local employees (usually from the host country, sometimes from a third country) that form an integral and necessary part of our staff. I don't pretend to know all of the laws and regulations affecting their pay and benefits, but I do know these two things: their salaries are paid in the local currency (here in Argentina, that makes it the Argentine peso), and, as U.S. government employees, they are subject to the 2-year wage freeze. Without going into too much detail (partly to keep myself from appearing incredibly ignorant by publishing incorrect or badly understood information), let me just say that this is wreaking havoc on our FSNs. Largely due to perceived wage increase injustices in the past (whether or not that is true, I cannot say) and the fact that Argentina "enjoys" one of the highest rates of inflation in the world (not currently recognized by their government however), this has been very traumatic for our Argentine staff. As you can easily guess, on top of greatly affecting their purchasing power (many have to find new housing, move their children into different school systems, and make other life-altering household budget cuts), this is also harmful to our FSN-American staff relationship. We are working to remedy this situation as best we can here, but progress is rocky at best. It is easy for us, as Americans, to say, "Well, if the work environment is so bad, just leave," but this alternative is not available to all our staff. Hiring practices in Argentina are not the same as they are in the U.S. and the EEO laws are certainly not on par. More and more young adults are finding that their advanced degrees do not help them land jobs and are increasingly living at home with their families for even longer periods of time. On the older end of the scale, it is my understanding that there is a lot of age-ism practiced here - if you're over a certain age, your hireability apparently drops off a cliff. I've even been told that if you don't "look the part," you don't get hired. These limitations make it such that, even with the wage freeze, a job at the U.S. embassy is still one of the most appealing options out there (despite our not very Argentine work hours).
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So you can see that I and my colleagues are closely watching our Congress (and the rest of our government), waiting to see how we will fare over the coming months. We are committed to doing our part to elevate the reputation of the United States abroad; to working with our foreign counterparts to create a more receptive environment for U.S. business interests and peace; and to sharing our culture with the rest of the world. But it is certainly frustrating to see that our jobs are often misunderstood or poorly imagined by our compatriots at home, so badly so that no one bats an eye as our budget gets massacred because our Foreign Service is viewed as "discretionary" spending. In the end, we will certainly make do with the budget we are authorized, but as our resources dwindle, so too does our ability to make forward progress.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
One down, 19 to go...
My one-year anniversary as a Foreign Service Officer just passed. That is a whole year with a paycheck and health insurance, guys! ROCK.
On Argentine Men: One wink too many
As part of Steve's Hannukah gift extravaganza for his wife, Katie, Petra and I volunteered to babysit FROGMAN! one night so they could go out for a date. Steve cashed in on our offer a few Saturdays ago and Petra and I had a fantastic time, ordering out pizza, Chinese food, and ice cream. What?!!! A girl's gotta eat.
So we're sitting there, with our computers, surrounded by this feast, and FROGMAN! is out cold in his room. Even George and Gracie (the dogs) are stretched out on the floor somewhere, leaving us to our dinner and chatting.
Of course, at one point the conversation turns to men. Since Petra is leaving for Norfolk, VA, in June, she decided to post a profile on Match.com in the U.S. to see if there was anyone in the Norfolk area who might be willing to be her tour guide when she arrives. We think it might be interesting to peruse Match.com's catalogue of men here in Buenos Aires, while we have the site up.
Turns out that there is a completely separate Match.com for Argentina and the only way to browse the participants is to open a profile. Since Petra has the U.S. profile, we sign me up for the Argentina profile. Being the survey-loving fool that I am, I actually fill out some profile items, like my height, eye color, amount of physical fitness activity, my dislike of smokers, and the fact that the one thing I can't live without is oxygen. Yes, yes, most people answered the question of what they couldn't live without a little less realistically and entered things like their i-Pad, coffee, and their dog, but I thought they were wrong. It really is amazing how many things we can live without, but oxygen? There's just no getting around that pesky gas.
So, needless to say, we start cruising around Match.com Argentina and, in the male looking for female category, aged 31 to 42, we compiled the following observations:
You probably know what's coming next...
I completely forget about signing up, but Match.com Argentina approved my profile and the emails started pouring in. The first email was from a good-looking thirty-something who writes, "You don't have a picture up, but I really like your height." And it just started going downhill from there. Match.com Argentina gives you the ability to "wink" at people, too, which seems to be the internet version of, "Hey, I think you're cute. Wanna suck face some time?" In less than a week, I had racked up at least 20-30 emails and a good 50-60 "winks." Most of the guys just wanted to connect with someone and hoped that they would find romance. However, I even had some Brazilian write to me, hoping I could help him with his Spanish (oops, forgot to mention on my profile that I am a gringa). But I finally deleted my profile when a 57-year-old man "winked" at me. As much fun as the attention of a number of desperate Argentine men can be, I draw the line at men older than my parents. I just can't do it.
Although, to be fair, I had no intention of dating ANY of the men on Match.com Argentina. Call me old-fashioned, but I like meeting people the more traditional way: drunk in a bar.
Tee-hee!
So we're sitting there, with our computers, surrounded by this feast, and FROGMAN! is out cold in his room. Even George and Gracie (the dogs) are stretched out on the floor somewhere, leaving us to our dinner and chatting.
Of course, at one point the conversation turns to men. Since Petra is leaving for Norfolk, VA, in June, she decided to post a profile on Match.com in the U.S. to see if there was anyone in the Norfolk area who might be willing to be her tour guide when she arrives. We think it might be interesting to peruse Match.com's catalogue of men here in Buenos Aires, while we have the site up.
Turns out that there is a completely separate Match.com for Argentina and the only way to browse the participants is to open a profile. Since Petra has the U.S. profile, we sign me up for the Argentina profile. Being the survey-loving fool that I am, I actually fill out some profile items, like my height, eye color, amount of physical fitness activity, my dislike of smokers, and the fact that the one thing I can't live without is oxygen. Yes, yes, most people answered the question of what they couldn't live without a little less realistically and entered things like their i-Pad, coffee, and their dog, but I thought they were wrong. It really is amazing how many things we can live without, but oxygen? There's just no getting around that pesky gas.
So, needless to say, we start cruising around Match.com Argentina and, in the male looking for female category, aged 31 to 42, we compiled the following observations:
- Argentine men are not modest. About 75% of them have as their main profile picture a shot of them topless. I decided right there and then that I clearly can't use Match.com Argentina as a dating medium.
- In the 31 to 42 age range, about 75% of Argentine men are divorced with children. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it does make me feel like I missed out on the first round of marriage. (Although secretly I hope that my life only has ONE round of marriage.) It also reminds me of the high rate of divorce around here. What is up, Argentina??!
- Argentine men write profile summaries like Hallmark cards. Very, very sappy. I hear that Argentine women like this, just as they like their men to text or call them 15 times a day, tell them how wonderful they are every hour on the hour, and just woo them into a willing puddle of romantic goo, but...BUT. I am my mother's child and I find the overly saccharine language to be a bit overwhelming. It reeks of a man who is far too dependent and needy...which makes sense since Argentines generally live with their parents until they get married. Needless to say, not my cup of tea. (Hey, in theory it sounds great, but in practice, well, I'd be all like, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fantastic, I know. Now would you please get up off your ass and take the trash out?!!")
You probably know what's coming next...
I completely forget about signing up, but Match.com Argentina approved my profile and the emails started pouring in. The first email was from a good-looking thirty-something who writes, "You don't have a picture up, but I really like your height." And it just started going downhill from there. Match.com Argentina gives you the ability to "wink" at people, too, which seems to be the internet version of, "Hey, I think you're cute. Wanna suck face some time?" In less than a week, I had racked up at least 20-30 emails and a good 50-60 "winks." Most of the guys just wanted to connect with someone and hoped that they would find romance. However, I even had some Brazilian write to me, hoping I could help him with his Spanish (oops, forgot to mention on my profile that I am a gringa). But I finally deleted my profile when a 57-year-old man "winked" at me. As much fun as the attention of a number of desperate Argentine men can be, I draw the line at men older than my parents. I just can't do it.
Although, to be fair, I had no intention of dating ANY of the men on Match.com Argentina. Call me old-fashioned, but I like meeting people the more traditional way: drunk in a bar.
Tee-hee!
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
So mad I could spit
In mid-January, I hosted the most tragic asado of all time. And today I got slapped with a $2,600 peso fine for it (about $650 U.S.).
Here's how it all went down.
I reserved the party room through the porteros at my building for the Sunday of Martin Luther King weekend. I sent out invites to 20 people.
Two days later, the portero on duty tells me that they started tearing apart the parilla that day to work on its chimney, which reaches to the 15th floor from the ground floor where the party room is located. Building management hadn't bothered to notify the porteros and it seemed unlikely that the work would be complete by the weekend.
So I consulted my girls and we decided to bring a Weber grill to the building and continue as planned. We asked the porteros if this would be okay and if we could still use the kitchen, the tables, et. al. as reserved. They said yes. We said GREAT!
Day of asado arrives. We load up the mini chimney with charcoals to burn them down to embers and, since the party room is entirely enclosed in glass, we take the mini chimney outside so it can smoke in the free air. The porteros tell us to take it inside. So we do.
When we try to set up the grill outside of the party room, but not inside the pool area - just outside where the smoke can escape in the free air - the porteros once again tell us to set it up inside the party room. We think this is nuts, since the party room immediately fills up with smoke, but we soldier on.
The guests who have arrived at this point are now congregating in the pool area, to keep out of the smoke, and my friend Katie goes into the kiddie pool with her 8-month-old son, Ethan (a.k.a. FROGMAN!). Her mom and sister hang out by her side, chatting away and keeping her company. I continue to play hostess and move from the grilling group to the arriving guests to make sure everyone is comfortable.
I go upstairs for a minute to pick something up - I don't remember what - and when I come back downstairs, there are three Argentines completely unknown to me who are in the midst of screaming at Fran (our Argentine asador), Petra, and Monica. I have no idea what is going on, so I stand there for a minute, taking it all in.
Quickly I realize that these three people live in the building and they seem to think that our asado is going to set the whole building on fire. We listen to them, without talking back, and try to move the grill to a more acceptable location. They scream even louder, seeming to think that by moving the grill, death and destruction are imminent.
So they scream and they scream and they scream, as Petra and Fran quietly put the fire out. The grill is still smoking so one of the men (there were two men and one women) starts walking toward the grill with a full 2-liter bottle of water and tells us he is going to put out the fire, apparently by pouring his water all over our steaks and chorizos. This, of course, is the straw that broke the camel's back. This is when Petra stands her ground, gets in his way, puts her face within inches of his and says, very calmly, very evenly, but very, very pointedly, "Basta. BASTA. Ya se apago." Which is the equivalent of, "Dammit, enough! Back the fuck off!"
Didn't seem to phase him at all. He continued advancing with the water bottle. Petra said, one last time, "BASTA," and so totally got in his way that he couldn't but listen to her.
Meanwhile, the other man is screaming at me that my guests are not allowed in the pool. Which, by the way, is completely untrue.
And the woman is still screaming about god-knows-what and whipping out her cell phone to take pictures of the RAGING FIRE. Which at this point is a sad little Weber grill, smoking a little around the edges, with no spark whatsoever to speak of.
To make the best of a bad situation, Petra and Fran then took all the meat up to my kitchen and finished preparing the meat there. All our guests arrived in the meantime, each bringing a side dish lovingly prepared, and we feasted. And feasted. And feasted some more.
Meanwhile, a thunderstorm raged outside. Which, to my line of thinking, made it so that, had our building really caught on fire, I couldn't imagine that the fire would've lasted long. Moreover, it made it so that the man's argument about my guests using the pool quickly became a moot point.
So, we ended up having a great time, eating, chatting, eating some more.
When the last few guests dwindled down, we cleaned up like the party room had never been cleaned before. It was SPOTLESS.
Nevertheless, that crazy, rude woman had submitted an official complaint. Turns out she's also a member of the building's version of a condo association board - which I didn't know existed. She and the two gentlemen, who clearly don't know a damn thing about being civil and have nothing better to do than to find fault with the tenants, are all on the condo association board.
So they complained. And now I have been fined - and my party room privileges have been docked for 6 months.
There are many things I find wrong with this situation, first and foremost being that they also fined and punished Vanna, another embassy employee resident of the building. The letter claims she was hosting the party, which isn't even remotely true. She arrived long after the incident with the grill and was just another invitee.
I am also pretty pissed off about the way they treated me and my guests. They never introduced themselves, never calmly asked us to do what they wanted us to do. They just screamed at us and cited some list of building rules that I've never seen nor heard of. It seems to me that this whole situation could have been dealt with calmly and rationally, like adults, with none of the fuss, or tension, or screaming. Life would have been so much easier had they just said, "Hey, I happen to be a condo association board member and my name is... Did you know that you are not allowed to use an outside grill in here? Would you please put out the fire on your grill?"
But no. They were all, to a "t", assholes. And it pisses me off that now I have to go into the embassy tomorrow and explain to our General Services Officer why I've been slapped with a $2,600 peso fine. Their attitude and behavior really taints my affinity for this building and my other neighbors. And, well, it just plain sucks.
Here's how it all went down.
I reserved the party room through the porteros at my building for the Sunday of Martin Luther King weekend. I sent out invites to 20 people.
Two days later, the portero on duty tells me that they started tearing apart the parilla that day to work on its chimney, which reaches to the 15th floor from the ground floor where the party room is located. Building management hadn't bothered to notify the porteros and it seemed unlikely that the work would be complete by the weekend.
So I consulted my girls and we decided to bring a Weber grill to the building and continue as planned. We asked the porteros if this would be okay and if we could still use the kitchen, the tables, et. al. as reserved. They said yes. We said GREAT!
Day of asado arrives. We load up the mini chimney with charcoals to burn them down to embers and, since the party room is entirely enclosed in glass, we take the mini chimney outside so it can smoke in the free air. The porteros tell us to take it inside. So we do.
When we try to set up the grill outside of the party room, but not inside the pool area - just outside where the smoke can escape in the free air - the porteros once again tell us to set it up inside the party room. We think this is nuts, since the party room immediately fills up with smoke, but we soldier on.
The guests who have arrived at this point are now congregating in the pool area, to keep out of the smoke, and my friend Katie goes into the kiddie pool with her 8-month-old son, Ethan (a.k.a. FROGMAN!). Her mom and sister hang out by her side, chatting away and keeping her company. I continue to play hostess and move from the grilling group to the arriving guests to make sure everyone is comfortable.
I go upstairs for a minute to pick something up - I don't remember what - and when I come back downstairs, there are three Argentines completely unknown to me who are in the midst of screaming at Fran (our Argentine asador), Petra, and Monica. I have no idea what is going on, so I stand there for a minute, taking it all in.
Quickly I realize that these three people live in the building and they seem to think that our asado is going to set the whole building on fire. We listen to them, without talking back, and try to move the grill to a more acceptable location. They scream even louder, seeming to think that by moving the grill, death and destruction are imminent.
So they scream and they scream and they scream, as Petra and Fran quietly put the fire out. The grill is still smoking so one of the men (there were two men and one women) starts walking toward the grill with a full 2-liter bottle of water and tells us he is going to put out the fire, apparently by pouring his water all over our steaks and chorizos. This, of course, is the straw that broke the camel's back. This is when Petra stands her ground, gets in his way, puts her face within inches of his and says, very calmly, very evenly, but very, very pointedly, "Basta. BASTA. Ya se apago." Which is the equivalent of, "Dammit, enough! Back the fuck off!"
Didn't seem to phase him at all. He continued advancing with the water bottle. Petra said, one last time, "BASTA," and so totally got in his way that he couldn't but listen to her.
Meanwhile, the other man is screaming at me that my guests are not allowed in the pool. Which, by the way, is completely untrue.
And the woman is still screaming about god-knows-what and whipping out her cell phone to take pictures of the RAGING FIRE. Which at this point is a sad little Weber grill, smoking a little around the edges, with no spark whatsoever to speak of.
To make the best of a bad situation, Petra and Fran then took all the meat up to my kitchen and finished preparing the meat there. All our guests arrived in the meantime, each bringing a side dish lovingly prepared, and we feasted. And feasted. And feasted some more.
Meanwhile, a thunderstorm raged outside. Which, to my line of thinking, made it so that, had our building really caught on fire, I couldn't imagine that the fire would've lasted long. Moreover, it made it so that the man's argument about my guests using the pool quickly became a moot point.
So, we ended up having a great time, eating, chatting, eating some more.
When the last few guests dwindled down, we cleaned up like the party room had never been cleaned before. It was SPOTLESS.
Nevertheless, that crazy, rude woman had submitted an official complaint. Turns out she's also a member of the building's version of a condo association board - which I didn't know existed. She and the two gentlemen, who clearly don't know a damn thing about being civil and have nothing better to do than to find fault with the tenants, are all on the condo association board.
So they complained. And now I have been fined - and my party room privileges have been docked for 6 months.
There are many things I find wrong with this situation, first and foremost being that they also fined and punished Vanna, another embassy employee resident of the building. The letter claims she was hosting the party, which isn't even remotely true. She arrived long after the incident with the grill and was just another invitee.
I am also pretty pissed off about the way they treated me and my guests. They never introduced themselves, never calmly asked us to do what they wanted us to do. They just screamed at us and cited some list of building rules that I've never seen nor heard of. It seems to me that this whole situation could have been dealt with calmly and rationally, like adults, with none of the fuss, or tension, or screaming. Life would have been so much easier had they just said, "Hey, I happen to be a condo association board member and my name is... Did you know that you are not allowed to use an outside grill in here? Would you please put out the fire on your grill?"
But no. They were all, to a "t", assholes. And it pisses me off that now I have to go into the embassy tomorrow and explain to our General Services Officer why I've been slapped with a $2,600 peso fine. Their attitude and behavior really taints my affinity for this building and my other neighbors. And, well, it just plain sucks.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Working for the man
I mentioned in a previous post that I had a VIP that I was going to be controlling the hell out of! in the first few weeks of January and that is the primary reason why I haven't had time to update since late December.
This was a really important visit for the embassy, as it was the Department of State's Assistant Secretary for Western Hemisphere Affairs Arturo Valenzuela who was traveling to Argentina during a politicaly sensitive time - right in the wake of the Wikileaks fiasco, in which a disproportionate number of Argentina cables were released to the media, and just after the creation of a new Security Ministry and appointment of a Security Minister who has a reputation for antipathy towards the armed services (this is relevant because we have a strong U.S. military presence at the Buenos Aires embassy that does reach out to Argentina's military and needs the cooperation of the new Ministry to conduct any sort of bilateral relations). The last time Valenzuela visited Argentina was in December 2009 and he received quite a bit of negative press for that visit, so we had to be particularly careful in planning this trip.
With a great amount of luck, and a lot of help from every corner of the embassy, I received a lot of kudos for my role as control officer - from the Ambassador on down. The visit went off without a hitch, and the Assistant Secretary had a number of succesful meetings with the Foreign Minister, the Buenos Aires provincial governor, and even the new Security Minister. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I am really proud of this visit. This kind of work really suits me, with its focus on organization and logistics and details. I definitely look forward to more of this.
This was a really important visit for the embassy, as it was the Department of State's Assistant Secretary for Western Hemisphere Affairs Arturo Valenzuela who was traveling to Argentina during a politicaly sensitive time - right in the wake of the Wikileaks fiasco, in which a disproportionate number of Argentina cables were released to the media, and just after the creation of a new Security Ministry and appointment of a Security Minister who has a reputation for antipathy towards the armed services (this is relevant because we have a strong U.S. military presence at the Buenos Aires embassy that does reach out to Argentina's military and needs the cooperation of the new Ministry to conduct any sort of bilateral relations). The last time Valenzuela visited Argentina was in December 2009 and he received quite a bit of negative press for that visit, so we had to be particularly careful in planning this trip.
With a great amount of luck, and a lot of help from every corner of the embassy, I received a lot of kudos for my role as control officer - from the Ambassador on down. The visit went off without a hitch, and the Assistant Secretary had a number of succesful meetings with the Foreign Minister, the Buenos Aires provincial governor, and even the new Security Minister. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I am really proud of this visit. This kind of work really suits me, with its focus on organization and logistics and details. I definitely look forward to more of this.
On Argentine men, the New Year's Eve addendum
On New Year's Eve, my friend John said that his greatest hope for 2011 was to find love. It is important to this story to note that John is gay, as his follow-on comment had to do with the fact that, from what he'd heard about Argentine men, however, he wasn't sure that they were prime boyfriend material.
Later in the evening/very early in the morning of New Year's Day, our Argentine friend Pablo was sitting with us on the couch and this conversation resurfaced. Pablo told John that he should definitely date Argentine men and then he turned to me and asked if I was dating, to which I answered no. He said that I, too, should be dating Argentine men. I replied, "What is so great about Argentine men, Pablito? Convince us that we should date them."
His brilliant response? "Just try them."
I said, no, convince us.
He repeated that we should try them.
This back and forth went on for several minutes until he finally, probably in exasperation, said, "Porque son fogosos!"
Neither John nor I knew what fogoso meant, so I yelled out to the room full of the hardiest New Year's drinkers: "Anyone know what fogoso means?!!"
Someone yelled back, "Fiery!"
And as soon as Pablo heard that we received our definition, he slyly added, "...en la cama!!!" (The Spanish equivalent of ye olde classic Chinese cookie fortune addition, "...in bed!!!")
Oh yes, those fiery Argentine lovers. Yet somehow within the next twenty minutes of convincing, I found myself promising to try a fiery Argentine out by the end of 2011.
I think I may have lied to Pablo and then shook on it. I am so going to hell for this.
Later in the evening/very early in the morning of New Year's Day, our Argentine friend Pablo was sitting with us on the couch and this conversation resurfaced. Pablo told John that he should definitely date Argentine men and then he turned to me and asked if I was dating, to which I answered no. He said that I, too, should be dating Argentine men. I replied, "What is so great about Argentine men, Pablito? Convince us that we should date them."
His brilliant response? "Just try them."
I said, no, convince us.
He repeated that we should try them.
This back and forth went on for several minutes until he finally, probably in exasperation, said, "Porque son fogosos!"
Neither John nor I knew what fogoso meant, so I yelled out to the room full of the hardiest New Year's drinkers: "Anyone know what fogoso means?!!"
Someone yelled back, "Fiery!"
And as soon as Pablo heard that we received our definition, he slyly added, "...en la cama!!!" (The Spanish equivalent of ye olde classic Chinese cookie fortune addition, "...in bed!!!")
Oh yes, those fiery Argentine lovers. Yet somehow within the next twenty minutes of convincing, I found myself promising to try a fiery Argentine out by the end of 2011.
I think I may have lied to Pablo and then shook on it. I am so going to hell for this.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
2010, the positive review
I once read a book called The Celestine Prophecy and one of the things that stuck with me from this book is the idea of self-fulfilling prophecies. Basically, that boils down to this: if you think something bad is going to happen, it will. And vice versa.
I really think this is true, to a certain extent, so I do strive to put more positive energy out into the world than negative. And this applies to the current moment, forward-looking, and reviewing my past. Part of the thought process in reviewing one's past is letting go, forgiving, and accepting - all simple enough terms, but really difficult goals when you get right down to it. Who doesn't know a parent who experienced a difficult time letting go of a child and allowing that child to make his or her own life decisions, with all the consequences that come with transitioning into adulthood? Who hasn't themself experienced a moment in which you just couldn't forgive and forget? And who hasn't looked at themself in the mirror, focusing on all the flaws instead of just accepting that you are beautiful, just the way you are?
Keeping this in mind, I'd like to take a look at 2010 and remember all the beautiful things, the things that made me laugh, or the things that made me cry tears of joy, or just the moments that brought me good news. So, without further ado, the awesome that was 2010:
I really think this is true, to a certain extent, so I do strive to put more positive energy out into the world than negative. And this applies to the current moment, forward-looking, and reviewing my past. Part of the thought process in reviewing one's past is letting go, forgiving, and accepting - all simple enough terms, but really difficult goals when you get right down to it. Who doesn't know a parent who experienced a difficult time letting go of a child and allowing that child to make his or her own life decisions, with all the consequences that come with transitioning into adulthood? Who hasn't themself experienced a moment in which you just couldn't forgive and forget? And who hasn't looked at themself in the mirror, focusing on all the flaws instead of just accepting that you are beautiful, just the way you are?
Keeping this in mind, I'd like to take a look at 2010 and remember all the beautiful things, the things that made me laugh, or the things that made me cry tears of joy, or just the moments that brought me good news. So, without further ado, the awesome that was 2010:
- January. When I first opened my eyes on New Year's Day 2010, my vision was full of ribbons and balloons, which was a really intoxicating, intimate experience that reminded me of the joys of childhood, especially when Ali (who was sleeping on the air mattress next to me) started laughing to the point of breathlessness and grabbing at all the balloons with her hands and feet. The Lucchesi brothers had stolen the balloons from some bar in San Francisco on New Year's Eve and wandered all over town with them for the rest of the night, only to spy us sleeping in the basement when they returned home - they thought it would be a fun present. It was.
- February. After being unemployed and uninsured for over a year, I finally started my current job as a Foreign Service Officer with the U.S. Department of State. Although I know plenty of people who are content to be a housewife or house-husband, I was never really happy when I wasn't working. There aren't enough positive things to say in my world about receiving a paycheck and health insurance. Moreover, I don't have the words to express how satisfying it is to be productive and hopefully be making a difference, and to get paid for the privilege.
- March. Although I had, at the time, completely removed myself from the process and was eagerly discovering where all my new friends would be living and working for the next two years, one of the most unexpected and truly gratifying gifts I received this year was my assignment to Buenos Aires. Someone, or many someones, was looking out for me when they selected me for Argentina. I absolutely love it here. And I think the number one reason for that is the people - there are such great people working here at Embassy Buenos Aires, Americans and Argentines alike. I have made such good friends, learned a lot on the job, experienced quite a bit of the city and some of the other provinces, recieved quite a few ego boosts from Argentine men, developed a minor crush on one Argentine man in particular (since there is nothing to tell, I'm not spilling!), and learned to love living small, within my own boundaries, at my own pace. Perhaps the joy is just a natural result of my insistence on making the best of whatever comes my way. But regardless, I am happy here.
- April. My first Cherry Blossom Festival in DC. I avoid crowds like the plague, but Marilyn had a suggestion that beat all get out: she, Stephanie and I arose before dawn to walk down to the Tidal Basin and see the sun rise over the cherry trees. There aren't a lot of people on the streets in DC at 6AM, which meant that it was fairy tale perfect. And I finally crossed off another life list item: sit on Einstein's lap!
- May. The most important thing in my life are my friends (and family!). I may be one of the world's worst correspondents and I freely admit to hating the phone, but I think of you all the time, day in and day out, hoping that you are happy, wondering what new adventures you are up to, remembering the times we shared together, and looking forward to the next time I get to hug and squeeze you (or, in Andrew's case, get my revenge and throw you in a garbage can). In May I was visited by two of my dearest friends (Mel, Estee, you know I am looking at you!), I celebrated the Kentucky Derby and Stephanie at her Kentucky Derby birthday party with all of our new Foreign Service friends, I said goodbye to the most infamous carpool ever (geez, Max, Emma, Sean, I actually miss those godawful cds Max used to play for us on our way into work - R. Kelly, anyone?), I spent an afternoon hiking with the Spouse family at Great Falls, and I attended Morgan's wedding in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. If there is anything that the "jet-setting" lifestyle of the Foreign Service teaches you, it is to take advantage of what you have when you have it. (The flip side is to also learn when you've had enough and it's time to say "no.") Guys, how I do so love taking advantage of you...wait, I meant that in a really nice way, I swear!
- June. How many ivy league grads does it take to blow up an air mattress? Seriously, guys, how many? We discovered that it was precisely 5. The same number of ivy league grads you can fit into a deliciously tiny one-bedroom DC apartment for a weekend. Plus Maggie.
- July. I moved to Argentina. I experienced new sights, new sounds, a new culture, a new take on an old language. It was difficult. It was exciting. It changed my life. And I love, love, LOVE IT.
- August. I discovered Oui Oui. I like to eat, and I like to eat the way Americans eat for breakfast. None of that croissant, a coffee and a cigarette bull-poop Argentine style of eating breakfast. And none of that weak, soggy ham and cheese, plus yogurt and unripe fruit European/continental style breakfast either. Give me waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, homefries, toast, and a side of scrapple, if you please! And Oui Oui delivers, baby, Oui Oui delivers. Except for the scrapple. That was just me going overboard. Did I mention that I love Oui Oui?!!
- September. Kaitlin and Matt, my first two visitors. I really enjoyed hearing about their experiences at their posts, and really learned from their stories. More importantly, to me at least, I found the support I didn't know I needed. Even though everyone in my Foreign Service class is doing vastly different jobs, there are still Junior Officer experiences that we all share, can learn from, can kvetch about, and can grow from. That, and Kaitlin and Matt just plain rock.
- October. The tradition continues! The Ladies Lunch Club of Lima has now morphed into the Ladies Brunch Club of Buenos Aires. Our inaugural brunch was on Argentina's Mother's Day at the Evita Cafe. We shared stories, dirty jokes, an afternoon full of laughter, and it was good. Really good.
- November. Hands down, no question, November was AWESOME. It always rocks because it is the month that contains Thanksgiving, but in 2010 I turned 31. While dancing. On a glacier. In Patagonia.
- December. And this brings me back to the last post...New Year's Eve. I can sum it up in one short sentence (in case you missed it last time): 360 FREAKIN' DEGREES OF FIREWORKS.
Happy 2011! (whenever that was...)
Although I have never been a huge fan of New Year's Eve, as I've gotten older, I've developed a new respect for the idea that it marks the beginning of a new year, with new prospects and renewed hope for something better. I still don't like the way it appears that most Americans pass the holiday - en masse, with overpriced food and drinks, but drunk nonetheless - nor do I believe that I will ever feel comfortable with the idea of creating a resolution just because it's New Year's (after all, if you see a change that needs to be made in your life, why wait until New Year's?). However, living overseas is slowly changing my feelings towards the holiday.
For Argentines, New Year's Eve is very similar to Christmas Eve, in that everyone gathers at a relative's home, eats a late meal, and then enjoys the fireworks that start around midnight. Then all the clubs and bars open around 2AM and the younger crowd joins up with friends.
Unlike Christmas Eve, I did not adopt an Argentine family for New Year's. Instead, my friend Jason had reserved me at least a month prior, telling me that I was his for New Year's Eve. He hosted such a wonderful New Year's Eve party that it rivals all other New Year's Eves I have ever had. (Although I am pretty sure that I will never ever forget the New Year's at the Shore, Ty-Ty and Saleah! And I know that in my heart of hearts, my favorite is still watching the Kathy Griffin marathon on t.v., then watching the ball drop in Times Square with Dick Clark, and then turning out all the lights in Anthony's twenty square foot apartment so we could see all the illegal firework displays over the Hudson River in New Jersey.)
In most respects, Jason's party was your average party - there was good music, excellent food (some prepared by yours truly!), wonderful people, plenty of flowing alcohol, and the like, but the real kicker was the view. At 11:30PM, we all traipsed up to the 35th floor of Jason's apartment building to exit to the roof so we could have a 360-degree view of the Buenos Aires city skyline. We screamed out a countdown and then it started: THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY DEGREES OF FIREWORKS. I can't begin to describe how incredible it was. Fireworks are legal in Buenos Aires and any fool with some disposible income and an inclination towards blowing things up can buy as much as they want. So Argentines flock to their nearest firework supply store, invite all their family over, eat well, drink a lot of champagne, and then set fireworks off from their nearest street corner, balcony, rooftop, or window (hey, for all I know, this could be true). And I benefit from this madness.
I have never seen anything like it before and, even if I am in Buenos Aires for New Year's Eve again this year, it probably won't be the same. The pure magic of that first time might be a little diminished, or Jason won't be here and I won't have access to his roof.
Irregardless, New Year's Eve 2010 was one for the record books.
For Argentines, New Year's Eve is very similar to Christmas Eve, in that everyone gathers at a relative's home, eats a late meal, and then enjoys the fireworks that start around midnight. Then all the clubs and bars open around 2AM and the younger crowd joins up with friends.
Unlike Christmas Eve, I did not adopt an Argentine family for New Year's. Instead, my friend Jason had reserved me at least a month prior, telling me that I was his for New Year's Eve. He hosted such a wonderful New Year's Eve party that it rivals all other New Year's Eves I have ever had. (Although I am pretty sure that I will never ever forget the New Year's at the Shore, Ty-Ty and Saleah! And I know that in my heart of hearts, my favorite is still watching the Kathy Griffin marathon on t.v., then watching the ball drop in Times Square with Dick Clark, and then turning out all the lights in Anthony's twenty square foot apartment so we could see all the illegal firework displays over the Hudson River in New Jersey.)
In most respects, Jason's party was your average party - there was good music, excellent food (some prepared by yours truly!), wonderful people, plenty of flowing alcohol, and the like, but the real kicker was the view. At 11:30PM, we all traipsed up to the 35th floor of Jason's apartment building to exit to the roof so we could have a 360-degree view of the Buenos Aires city skyline. We screamed out a countdown and then it started: THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY DEGREES OF FIREWORKS. I can't begin to describe how incredible it was. Fireworks are legal in Buenos Aires and any fool with some disposible income and an inclination towards blowing things up can buy as much as they want. So Argentines flock to their nearest firework supply store, invite all their family over, eat well, drink a lot of champagne, and then set fireworks off from their nearest street corner, balcony, rooftop, or window (hey, for all I know, this could be true). And I benefit from this madness.
I have never seen anything like it before and, even if I am in Buenos Aires for New Year's Eve again this year, it probably won't be the same. The pure magic of that first time might be a little diminished, or Jason won't be here and I won't have access to his roof.
Irregardless, New Year's Eve 2010 was one for the record books.
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| Me, my unused camera, and the host. |
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| Self-portrait! |
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| The gang's all here! L-R: Pablito, Neal, moi, Jason, Petra, John, Arin, and Sandra, front and center. |
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Christmas in Argentina
Christmas Day itself is kind of a let-down after all the scurrying, preparations, and cooking that is done for Christmas Eve. Like every other Latin American country I've lived in thus far, Argentina celebrates on Buenanoche, not on Christmas itself. I imagine the scene is a bit different for every family, but for the Richinis, whom I adopted this year, Christmas Eve is a familial mix of pop music in both English and Spanish, lots of homemade grub, fireworks, opening presents from Papa Noel, eating bags of chocolate, and discussing politics, life, and the finer details of the life of the strange gringa sitting at their table - primarily asking if she's single or has a novio (which means a serious boyfriend or fiance).
For my part, the biggest challenge of Christmas Eve is finding a bus or taxi. Unlike other major international cities, there is no real capitalist streak here in Buenos Aires. One would think that a cabbie could make a barrel full of money on Christmas Eve, considering how many people travel to their brother's/sister's/parents' home to celebrate the holiday, but no. The Argentine way of thinking dictates that since Christmas Eve is a holiday for most Argentines, it's a holiday for all the cabbies as well. I tried tracking down one company that was at least kind enough to send me an email to let me know that cab service would start again at 4AM (of course, please note that their phone line just puts you on hold with your and my favorite elevator music, saying nothing at all of this). This wasn't particularly helpful since I was supposed to show up between 9:30PM-10PM. So I just started walking down the street, hoping against hope that one lonely cab driver would be out. I got lucky. I had only been walking about 5 minutes when I saw an open cab. At first I thought he was just going to speed past me, but he applied the brakes at the very last second and I ran across the street to hop in. Then he kindly informed me that the rate would be double. After all, he said, it's a holiday. Ugh.
But at least I was able to get to Monica's house without walking all the way there in the heels I put on because Monica told me her family dresses up for the occassion. Let me point out, for the benefit of Monica, of course, that I was wearing what she refers to as "boyfriend heels." She has been giving me lots of crap lately for not putting in the effort to look nice when we go out, usually to bars, which includes wearing "boyfriend heels." To which I responded that, "It's a freakin' bar, Monica! No one should have to dress up to go to a bar." To which she clearly responded, "That's why you're single, Ryan." Sigh.
In any case, I made it to the Richini household sometime before 11PM and finally met Mommy and Daddy Richini. One of the nicest traditions in latin culture is all the kissing that happens, even when you are just meeting someone for the first time. You get kisses on the cheek and big warm hugs, making you feel very welcome. This is exactly what my Nonnie had prepared me for - I just knew there was a reason she used to make me hug and kiss complete strangers when I was a child!
So I gave Monica's mom the flowers I had bought her, unloaded the fudgemallow candy I had prepared, and stored my dinner in the kitchen. Then it was time for heated discussions about politics and the Villa Soldati debacle, conversations about Ryan's love life (or lack thereof), family photos, food, fireworks, and even more conversations about Ryan's love life. Then there were shouts of "Regalos de Papa Noel! Papa Noel! Papa Noel!" and Monica ran to the tree, grabbed all the gift bags off the branches and the presents off the floor and threw them at people until everyone had something to open, even me. It was very haphazard and reminded me of the old Christmas Eve parties we used to have at Grampie Trap's house, in which the whole Janda family would gather at Grampie's house in the afternoon to pick "greens" to make wreaths, make wreaths while listening to Christmas carols and watching football, eat a feast, go next door to buy a Christmas tree, decorate said Christmas tree, unload ten tonnes of gifts under the tree, and then the present-opening fury would begin, with my littlest cousins tossing presents across the room while those with presents would tear into them, throwing wrapping paper and ribbon in a thousand different directions. The Richini gift-giving experience was similar, if on a much smaller scale (the Janda family breeds like rabbits - there is always a new Janda popping up somewhere!).
Then Francisco, Monica's brother, fell asleep on the balcony and, one by one, Daddy Richini, Agustina (Moni's sister), and Mommy Richini all drifted off to their bedrooms to sleep, while Monica and I remained at the dinner table, picking at the leftover food, drinking the leftover wine and champagne (well, I was drinking water, but...), and chatting until 5AM.
It was a very good Christmas...Eve.
Christmas Day found me sleeping until 1PM and then slowly trying to get my act together. I walked the dogs (still dog-sitting for Petra), and then pulled myself together enough to go into the office to take care of a few things. The streets in the city are completely dead on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which is a little bit strange for me. I've lived in cities for quite some time now, and neither one of these days is as dead in other cities as it is here. The only time I saw signs of life was when I came home at 5AM and the corner bar was PACKED to the edge of the sidewalk with people and noise. Everywhere else was still.
I had tried to get a group of people interested in a Jewish Christmas (going to a movie and eating Chinese food), but everyone seemed to be out of town, so I spent Christmas evening talking to my family, eating leftovers, and watching about a half hour of It's a Wonderful Life. I got an invitation to go out to a bar around 10PM, but I opted for a heavy round of sleeping instead.
And that, my friends, is how Christmas went down here in Argentina. I still miss the cold weather, the Christmas carols, the smells and food of a winter Christmas, the tree, wrapping presents, and all of you guys, but Christmas is still pretty darn good when you adopt a new family and new traditions.
For my part, the biggest challenge of Christmas Eve is finding a bus or taxi. Unlike other major international cities, there is no real capitalist streak here in Buenos Aires. One would think that a cabbie could make a barrel full of money on Christmas Eve, considering how many people travel to their brother's/sister's/parents' home to celebrate the holiday, but no. The Argentine way of thinking dictates that since Christmas Eve is a holiday for most Argentines, it's a holiday for all the cabbies as well. I tried tracking down one company that was at least kind enough to send me an email to let me know that cab service would start again at 4AM (of course, please note that their phone line just puts you on hold with your and my favorite elevator music, saying nothing at all of this). This wasn't particularly helpful since I was supposed to show up between 9:30PM-10PM. So I just started walking down the street, hoping against hope that one lonely cab driver would be out. I got lucky. I had only been walking about 5 minutes when I saw an open cab. At first I thought he was just going to speed past me, but he applied the brakes at the very last second and I ran across the street to hop in. Then he kindly informed me that the rate would be double. After all, he said, it's a holiday. Ugh.
But at least I was able to get to Monica's house without walking all the way there in the heels I put on because Monica told me her family dresses up for the occassion. Let me point out, for the benefit of Monica, of course, that I was wearing what she refers to as "boyfriend heels." She has been giving me lots of crap lately for not putting in the effort to look nice when we go out, usually to bars, which includes wearing "boyfriend heels." To which I responded that, "It's a freakin' bar, Monica! No one should have to dress up to go to a bar." To which she clearly responded, "That's why you're single, Ryan." Sigh.
In any case, I made it to the Richini household sometime before 11PM and finally met Mommy and Daddy Richini. One of the nicest traditions in latin culture is all the kissing that happens, even when you are just meeting someone for the first time. You get kisses on the cheek and big warm hugs, making you feel very welcome. This is exactly what my Nonnie had prepared me for - I just knew there was a reason she used to make me hug and kiss complete strangers when I was a child!
So I gave Monica's mom the flowers I had bought her, unloaded the fudgemallow candy I had prepared, and stored my dinner in the kitchen. Then it was time for heated discussions about politics and the Villa Soldati debacle, conversations about Ryan's love life (or lack thereof), family photos, food, fireworks, and even more conversations about Ryan's love life. Then there were shouts of "Regalos de Papa Noel! Papa Noel! Papa Noel!" and Monica ran to the tree, grabbed all the gift bags off the branches and the presents off the floor and threw them at people until everyone had something to open, even me. It was very haphazard and reminded me of the old Christmas Eve parties we used to have at Grampie Trap's house, in which the whole Janda family would gather at Grampie's house in the afternoon to pick "greens" to make wreaths, make wreaths while listening to Christmas carols and watching football, eat a feast, go next door to buy a Christmas tree, decorate said Christmas tree, unload ten tonnes of gifts under the tree, and then the present-opening fury would begin, with my littlest cousins tossing presents across the room while those with presents would tear into them, throwing wrapping paper and ribbon in a thousand different directions. The Richini gift-giving experience was similar, if on a much smaller scale (the Janda family breeds like rabbits - there is always a new Janda popping up somewhere!).
Then Francisco, Monica's brother, fell asleep on the balcony and, one by one, Daddy Richini, Agustina (Moni's sister), and Mommy Richini all drifted off to their bedrooms to sleep, while Monica and I remained at the dinner table, picking at the leftover food, drinking the leftover wine and champagne (well, I was drinking water, but...), and chatting until 5AM.
It was a very good Christmas...Eve.
Christmas Day found me sleeping until 1PM and then slowly trying to get my act together. I walked the dogs (still dog-sitting for Petra), and then pulled myself together enough to go into the office to take care of a few things. The streets in the city are completely dead on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which is a little bit strange for me. I've lived in cities for quite some time now, and neither one of these days is as dead in other cities as it is here. The only time I saw signs of life was when I came home at 5AM and the corner bar was PACKED to the edge of the sidewalk with people and noise. Everywhere else was still.
I had tried to get a group of people interested in a Jewish Christmas (going to a movie and eating Chinese food), but everyone seemed to be out of town, so I spent Christmas evening talking to my family, eating leftovers, and watching about a half hour of It's a Wonderful Life. I got an invitation to go out to a bar around 10PM, but I opted for a heavy round of sleeping instead.
And that, my friends, is how Christmas went down here in Argentina. I still miss the cold weather, the Christmas carols, the smells and food of a winter Christmas, the tree, wrapping presents, and all of you guys, but Christmas is still pretty darn good when you adopt a new family and new traditions.
Friday, December 24, 2010
The highlights
We're sliding into Christmas here and it's as hot as hades, my least favorite way to celebrate what for me is a cold-weather holiday. This marks my third warm weather Christmas and I still haven't quite wrapped my head around it. In fact, this year I didn't even decorate. (But I promise, there's a reason for that! I ordered a Christmas tree - finding a real Christmas tree overseas is next to impossible - and completely forgot that it was too big to be sent through our pouch mail service. So it was refused delivery at the warehouse in Virginia. I got the refund notification today. Oh well, there's always next year.)
The good news, however, is that I am going to spend my first Christmas in Argentina with a real Argentine family! I know that sounds really obvious and, perhaps, a little bit lackluster, but I am thoroughly excited nonetheless. I did not receive this kind of invitation while living in either Peru or Mexico, so it makes this year very special. In all three of these latin countries, the big celebration is actually on Christmas Eve. All the family and friends gather on Christmas Eve to eat, open presents, dance, and eat some more. There are also lots of fireworks. I don't know exactly what kind of traditions go into the Argentine version, but I will very soon find out...
In other news, here's a quick rundown of what you've missed:
The good news, however, is that I am going to spend my first Christmas in Argentina with a real Argentine family! I know that sounds really obvious and, perhaps, a little bit lackluster, but I am thoroughly excited nonetheless. I did not receive this kind of invitation while living in either Peru or Mexico, so it makes this year very special. In all three of these latin countries, the big celebration is actually on Christmas Eve. All the family and friends gather on Christmas Eve to eat, open presents, dance, and eat some more. There are also lots of fireworks. I don't know exactly what kind of traditions go into the Argentine version, but I will very soon find out...
In other news, here's a quick rundown of what you've missed:
- The biggest change in my life came about on my birthday. As a gift to myself (other than the KICKASS! vacation), I decided to quit drinking altogether and to adopt healthier eating habits, the most relevant of which is that I no longer eat red meat or pork. Which is making me quite the oddity in Argentina. Yes, yes, I know, they are known for their Malbec and their steak. Been there, done that, developed the willpower to say "no," and dropped it like the bad habit it is. The good news is that I didn't eat much red meat or drink much in the first place. I also found this great food service that caters to vegetarians and vegans, so I now have a new ally in this quest to live a healthier life: Cocina Verde.
- My maid left for a three-week vacation to visit family in Uruguay. This makes it on the list because it helps explain why I am even more boring than before. My life now consists of long hours in the office (including nights and weekends) and long hours doing my domestic chores: waiting in the grocery store line, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, walking my and Petra's dog, etc. Which brings me to 2 more points...
- I am watching Petra's dog, Friskie, who is one of the sweetest puppies ever. However, she sheds like you would't believe and I have puppy-sized dog fur tumbleweeds blowing about my house. It's a little less now that I've vacuumed, but I imagine it'll look like the wild west again in the morning. In any case, Friskie is with me since Petra had to overstay her family vacation to Barbados because her dad suffered a stroke. He is doing better now and is well enough to fly back to the DC area today, which makes me very glad for Petra. In the meantime, I've been home every afternoon to walk our two darlings (my maid is on vacation, remember), and have given Friskie her athritis medication religiously every morning. I even turned on the A/C for them. All the porteros think I've adopted another dog, but I have to admit that I am not crazy enough to do that to myself ever again. As fantastic as Friskie is, of course. Anyway, there are now three crazy broads living under the same roof.
- The other related point is that I'm getting a lot of flak lately for not "having fun." Even one of my doctors was asking me if the Argentine men have figured out that I am single yet. Which makes this a good time to point out that it seems to me that the Argentines' idea of "having fun" is roughly equivalent to going out with a lot of Argentines and having casual sex. While we Americans find questions about our sex life to be personal, Argentines find them to be just a matter of course. Very nonchalantly they talk about their sex lives - not to the level of detail in which they describe their favorite sexual positions, but enough so that it would make the average American a little uncomfortable. So, in the middle of my last appointment, my (female) doctor asks me about my dating life. "Why aren't you dating? Aren't there are men you could date in the embassy?" It was a bit awkward, as I was more or less naked at the time (another comment about doctors here - they don't necessarily leave the room while you strip down), but I tried to answer with a bit of a brush-off comment: "Most of the men I know in the embassy are either married or gay." Not exactly true, but not entirely a lie either. Luckily, I also came up with the brilliant idea to ask the good doctor if she has a boyfriend (she is divorced, her children grown), which got her to talking about herself and left me out of the spotlight. But not before she told me to have more fun. This is all to say that she's not the only one who has mentioned this to me lately. I thought I was having fun. I know I often describe myself as pretty lame, but I actually don't think I am - I just see that most single people I know spend their weekends drinking heavily at bars or clubs and I imagine that they look at my idea of a good time (spending time with friends over a good meal, reading a book, walking my dog, spending a lazy Sunday afternoon drinking mate in the park with friends, talking to my family, watching movies, running, doing yoga, etc.) is BORING. It's hard to play up the fact that I don't spend a lot of time dancing on tables or making out with complete strangers or getting smashed. And I'm not against any of these things, actually, but they're just not what I do on a regular basis. So yeah, I apparently don't look like I'm having fun. (And I'll just stop babbling now.)
- A totally random anecdote: right outside my bathroom window are two machines that control the air conditioners inside my apartment. Usually, there are a bunch of pigeons out there, cooing, which is really lovely as I find the sound pigeons make to be incredibly relaxing. Pigeons make me very happy (and all you naysayers out there, I don't want to hear a darn thing about how pigeons are rats with wings!). Regardless, the other morning, I glanced out the window and there it was - an eagle, perched on the ledge, looking around with its fierce eyes. I think I stopped breathing for a moment, hoping he wouldn't see me and then fly away. We stared at each other for a good 5 minutes, I think, before he realized that I was too close for comfort. But those 5 minutes were pretty amazing.
- I got a pretty awesome assignment at work. We take turns serving as "control officers" for VIP visits, whether they are congressional delegations, congressional staffers, the Secretary of State, or other high-level staff within the State Department. Right now I'm the control officer for someone pretty high in the Department (as a holdover from my DS days, I'm not mentioning names, dates, or anything else - I am pretty paranoid about this stuff), which means that I am the person that organizes the whole trip, from the small details like arranging for a hotel and arranging for a car, to much larger issues like securing meetings with high-level Argentine government officials. And by "organize," I mean "delegate," so I am basically the program manager for the VIP visit. (I also like to walk around saying that I am "controlling the hell out of the VIP!") But I will also be with him during every step of his trip when he finally arrives, making sure that things go smoothly. It is actually something I feel I am very good at - while I am not yet an expert on serving as a control officer, and am learning new things all the time, the organizing and phone calls and logistics all come pretty naturally to me. I really enjoy it. I hope to do more of these visits.
- Next year is shaping up to be pretty awesome in terms of visitors. Del-vish! should be coming in the spring (you'd better!), Jeff and Liz are coming in March, the Penn crew is looking at summer (June/July/August), Jah is bringing a whole crew in November (BOOM!), and I've got the Fisher family for Christmas 2011. I am also planning to take my home leave in September so I can attend Eric's wedding, visit my doctors and friends (and colleagues) in DC, and say "hi" to my mom (New York might also be on the list of places to be). Pretty damn sweet, if I say so myself. All I have to do now is convince my mom that, now that she's out of a job, she has plenty of time to come to Argentina for a long visit - like, say, six months! I mean, really, da' Momma, when are you ever going to have this opportunity again? COME. STAY. You will love it, I promise.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
On Argentine men, parte dos
As I was walking home Tuesday night, an Argentine man started softly calling to me, “Usted es la más linda…va a matar a todos la belleza.” A compliment to which I just started laughing my ass off…and he continued on his merry way, as if nothing unusual had just occurred.
For all ye non-Spanish speakers, my new Argentine friend said something like, “You’re the prettiest…your beauty will kill everyone.”
Die, everyone, die! Mwahahahaha...!
For all ye non-Spanish speakers, my new Argentine friend said something like, “You’re the prettiest…your beauty will kill everyone.”
Die, everyone, die! Mwahahahaha...!
This broad’s abroad for Thanksgiving
(Editor's note: This post was written on Thanksgiving morning but the telecommunications gods decided to cut my phone and internet access about two weeks ago. You'll just have to forgive me for being late.)
One of the most difficult things about living overseas is the result of the need to make choices about when to travel home and how to balance priorities. Essentially, this means that I often miss out on some of the most important events in my friends’ and family’s lives. It is seldom that I am able to go back to the good ol’ U.S. of A for weddings, funerals, births, bar/bat mitzvahs, birthdays, promotions, or holidays. Although this is frustrating and often leads me to feel wistful and heartsick (because, frankly, I really do love you guys – something I don’t say often enough, I think), the hardest time of year to be away from home is on Thanksgiving.
Of all the holidays in all the cultures of the world, for me, nothing compares to our tradition of gathering all the disparate branches of our family tree together under one roof to share some laughter, food, dirty jokes, tears, joys, hopes, and the year’s most enormous meal. A few of you have been lucky enough to participate in one of my family’s Thanksgivings – and even a luckier few have been around for our pajama Thanksgiving! – so you know firsthand how special they can be. Unlike many other American families, we don’t disappear after the meal to unbutton our pants and watch football in self-contented silence. It is all family (and friends!), all the time. Plus food, all that glorious, glorious food.
Over the years, things have changed, which have altered our Thanksgivings forever. The most important change was the passing of my grandmother, Nonnie, who was the clear matriarch of our family and who hosted the most amazing family meals ever. To this day, we all still gather around the table and share stories about her (and especially her stuffed artichokes!). This year, I find myself thinking about her quite a bit. I think she would have really been delighted to know that I joined the Foreign Service and am now a true “global citizen,” for she dearly loved to travel. I also think there are many people who have entered into my life that she would have really enjoyed meeting (not to mention pinching their butts!); it is sad to know that she isn’t here anymore to share our stories. But I sincerely give thanks for having had her in my life for as long as I did and being able to love and cherish her as my grandmother. Te mando un beso y un abrazo al cielo, Nonnie.
The other change that looms large in my life has everything to do with this nomadic life I lead. As I may have mentioned to you, within the past year or so, I moved four times, and lived in four different countries. This has been a difficult year emotionally and physically, not to mention financially. What that essentially means is that I didn’t have the time, nor the energy, nor the financial reserves to get my sorry butt home to Massachusetts for turkey day – making this the second time in three years that I am not home for Thanksgiving. And, as if I couldn’t be sad enough on my own, every time I can’t make it home, da’ Momma calls with tears in her voice and tells me how much she misses me. I miss you, too, da’ Momma, and I love you BESTEST. Now stop making me cry, dammit!
That is not to say that Thanksgiving is ruined for me, by any means. This year, I am co-hosting Turkey Day dinner with my friend, Petra, and I am in charge of the turkey. If our count is even remotely correct (which it is highly unlikely it is, since we have had many changes to the guest list), there should be about eight of us sitting down to dinner in just a few short hours. And last night, there were about twelve to fifteen of us at a pre-Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the Gunny Sergeant of the Marines. So I haven’t been alone for a moment. I am surrounded by friends, and laughter, and ten tons of incredible homemade food. But I carry my family in my heart, as well as all the friends from before, who can’t always be with me.
One of the most difficult things about living overseas is the result of the need to make choices about when to travel home and how to balance priorities. Essentially, this means that I often miss out on some of the most important events in my friends’ and family’s lives. It is seldom that I am able to go back to the good ol’ U.S. of A for weddings, funerals, births, bar/bat mitzvahs, birthdays, promotions, or holidays. Although this is frustrating and often leads me to feel wistful and heartsick (because, frankly, I really do love you guys – something I don’t say often enough, I think), the hardest time of year to be away from home is on Thanksgiving.
Of all the holidays in all the cultures of the world, for me, nothing compares to our tradition of gathering all the disparate branches of our family tree together under one roof to share some laughter, food, dirty jokes, tears, joys, hopes, and the year’s most enormous meal. A few of you have been lucky enough to participate in one of my family’s Thanksgivings – and even a luckier few have been around for our pajama Thanksgiving! – so you know firsthand how special they can be. Unlike many other American families, we don’t disappear after the meal to unbutton our pants and watch football in self-contented silence. It is all family (and friends!), all the time. Plus food, all that glorious, glorious food.
Over the years, things have changed, which have altered our Thanksgivings forever. The most important change was the passing of my grandmother, Nonnie, who was the clear matriarch of our family and who hosted the most amazing family meals ever. To this day, we all still gather around the table and share stories about her (and especially her stuffed artichokes!). This year, I find myself thinking about her quite a bit. I think she would have really been delighted to know that I joined the Foreign Service and am now a true “global citizen,” for she dearly loved to travel. I also think there are many people who have entered into my life that she would have really enjoyed meeting (not to mention pinching their butts!); it is sad to know that she isn’t here anymore to share our stories. But I sincerely give thanks for having had her in my life for as long as I did and being able to love and cherish her as my grandmother. Te mando un beso y un abrazo al cielo, Nonnie.
The other change that looms large in my life has everything to do with this nomadic life I lead. As I may have mentioned to you, within the past year or so, I moved four times, and lived in four different countries. This has been a difficult year emotionally and physically, not to mention financially. What that essentially means is that I didn’t have the time, nor the energy, nor the financial reserves to get my sorry butt home to Massachusetts for turkey day – making this the second time in three years that I am not home for Thanksgiving. And, as if I couldn’t be sad enough on my own, every time I can’t make it home, da’ Momma calls with tears in her voice and tells me how much she misses me. I miss you, too, da’ Momma, and I love you BESTEST. Now stop making me cry, dammit!
That is not to say that Thanksgiving is ruined for me, by any means. This year, I am co-hosting Turkey Day dinner with my friend, Petra, and I am in charge of the turkey. If our count is even remotely correct (which it is highly unlikely it is, since we have had many changes to the guest list), there should be about eight of us sitting down to dinner in just a few short hours. And last night, there were about twelve to fifteen of us at a pre-Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the Gunny Sergeant of the Marines. So I haven’t been alone for a moment. I am surrounded by friends, and laughter, and ten tons of incredible homemade food. But I carry my family in my heart, as well as all the friends from before, who can’t always be with me.
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| The hostesses doing their best Vanna White meets Martha Stewart, "Hey look at my table settings!" pose. |
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| Los Walton (minus Neil). |
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| Dude, Nile is so photogenic (sometimes). |
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| Diego was totally in love with Nile. I think he wants one! |
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| Just before the turkey carnage got into full swing. |
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| My family for the day: buen provecho! |
Some day I hope to have goals
Recently I was asked what I want in life. The question was within the parameters of romantic relationships, and I was certainly taken aback by the question since I realized that the answer has changed so much over time. I distinctly remember my dad once advising me to “find someone similar to you so you get along, but with enough differences that you have something to talk about.” Which could very easily explain why Vince and I are no longer even friends (although this could very much have to do with a recent Facebook message he sent me, apropos of nothing, to inform me that I am now, have always been, and always will be a truly horrible human being), but it doesn’t stretch far enough to explain why Anthony and I couldn’t make it work. After all, I thought we were going to get married and have beautiful baby together (singular usage definitely intended).
While I still think that what my father said holds true, there is so much more to finding a life partner than that, some of which is completely inexplicable because it’s more on a cellular, chemical level. But some of it is far easier to rationalize – which is clearly what a logical person like myself does to explain why, after a decade defined by two long-term relationships, I find myself single once again.
The rationalizing? I compare men I meet or have met to the men I’ve dated – a few key things from each relationship certainly stick out in my brain as things I would like to improve upon in the next, and hopefully last, round. Not all of the sticking points are about the men, either, because I could certainly learn to be kinder, more present, more forgiving, more open, more loving, and clearly more communicative (a good friend of mine recently told me how surprised she was to find out how emotionally inaccessible I am – apparently there’s room for improvement). Or, I could turn Vince’s world upside down and just stop being such a no-good, very bad, horrible person.
But regarding the question of what I want in a romantic partner, I’ve got a list nebulously started in my brain. I am sure there is more to it than just the following, but I’ll share with you a few of the highlights. I am hoping for a man who…
• Loves me for who I am and who I have the potential to be;
• Is my best friend;
• Is a man who I respect, and who values loyalty, honor and honesty;
• Communicates (with me, preferably);
• Knows that relationships require a lot of care and attention, and that difficulties will come, but is committed to seeing them through;
• Will love my family and make sacrifices for them, just as he would with his own family;
• Laughs with me about everything and nothing – and helps me laugh at myself.
Basically, I am just looking for someone to grow old with me and who will share all of life’s ups and downs with me – and do it gratefully, gladly, respectfully and with love. Somehow, I don’t think this is too much to ask.
(Mel, this totally reminds me of that conversation we had years ago about the kind of partner you were looking for…you said something along the lines of doctor or lawyer, plays the piano, not Asian…I wonder how much you’ve revised your list since then?)
While I still think that what my father said holds true, there is so much more to finding a life partner than that, some of which is completely inexplicable because it’s more on a cellular, chemical level. But some of it is far easier to rationalize – which is clearly what a logical person like myself does to explain why, after a decade defined by two long-term relationships, I find myself single once again.
The rationalizing? I compare men I meet or have met to the men I’ve dated – a few key things from each relationship certainly stick out in my brain as things I would like to improve upon in the next, and hopefully last, round. Not all of the sticking points are about the men, either, because I could certainly learn to be kinder, more present, more forgiving, more open, more loving, and clearly more communicative (a good friend of mine recently told me how surprised she was to find out how emotionally inaccessible I am – apparently there’s room for improvement). Or, I could turn Vince’s world upside down and just stop being such a no-good, very bad, horrible person.
But regarding the question of what I want in a romantic partner, I’ve got a list nebulously started in my brain. I am sure there is more to it than just the following, but I’ll share with you a few of the highlights. I am hoping for a man who…
• Loves me for who I am and who I have the potential to be;
• Is my best friend;
• Is a man who I respect, and who values loyalty, honor and honesty;
• Communicates (with me, preferably);
• Knows that relationships require a lot of care and attention, and that difficulties will come, but is committed to seeing them through;
• Will love my family and make sacrifices for them, just as he would with his own family;
• Laughs with me about everything and nothing – and helps me laugh at myself.
Basically, I am just looking for someone to grow old with me and who will share all of life’s ups and downs with me – and do it gratefully, gladly, respectfully and with love. Somehow, I don’t think this is too much to ask.
(Mel, this totally reminds me of that conversation we had years ago about the kind of partner you were looking for…you said something along the lines of doctor or lawyer, plays the piano, not Asian…I wonder how much you’ve revised your list since then?)
Saturday, November 20, 2010
31 is wild and wonderful
My birthday really started on Thursday night, when Petra and I decided to go to Kau Kaleshen for dinner. This entirely vegetarian restaurant is the brainchild of our El Chalten guide from Thursday, Paola, and her husband, who both attended culinary school. When we found out that Paola owned a restaurant, and it was off the main street in El Calafate (I like to stray from the normal touristy areas when I can), we were all in. The restaurant is set off a quiet side street and is inside of a real home - the feel is very warm and inviting, as if you´re visiting a friend´s house and not just another restaurant. We enjoyed a pumpkin and ginger spread on our pre-meal bread; a really delicious pumpkin and orange cream soup (trust me on this one - it might sound like a strange combination, but it´s quite yummy); and a never-ending veggie and bread cheese fondue. My stomach was stuffed to Thanksgiving-like proportions by the end of the meal and still there was more. We ordered their black forrest dessert, which Paola served us herself, with a complimentary bottle of Chandon 187 to celebrate my birthday. It was a simply fantastic meal, with such excellent service, that I don´t hesitate in highly recommending this restaurant to anyone and everyone who travels through El Calafate. I wish Paola and Albert the best of success in their restaurant business!
Then Friday was my actual birthday. Up at 6-ish, trying to wait patiently for my alarm to go off at 6:45 - it´s amazing how little your body is able to relax after such a tightly managed schedule for so long - and then it was off to hike on a glacier! It is really hard to describe how awesome an adventure that was. You take a bus to a boat, and you are standing in full view of one of only two glaciers in the world that are not receding (they´re stable, not advancing): Perito Moreno. The guides told us that it is one of the lowest glaciers in the world as well, located only about 180 meters above sea level, with the average glacier being located around 2,000 meters above sea level. So you can actually enjoy this glacier without freezing your tush off!!!
Well, Petra and I are kind of a force to behold, each one of us feeding off of the energy and laughter of the other, so by the time we were getting off the boat to start our glacier trek, we had concluded that the guides were going to rue the day that they got us as part of their tour. It quickly became our motto of the day: "Rue the day!" we´d shout and then flash two thumbs up. It sounds silly now, but it had us laughing through the whole day. When I finally get back to my own computer in Buenos Aires and have the capacity to upload photos (and don´t have to struggle with this Spanish keyboard), you will note how many of our pictures of us sporting our thumbs up and flashing big goofy smiles - our new normal "Rue the day!" pose.
Of course, just as happened the day before, the weather started out absolutely beautiful, with lots of sun and a few clouds to give the sky some detail and depth (great for photography). The guides had a hell of a time trying to get my enormous (read: not dainty) feet and my LL Bean slip-on finest shod in some cramp-ons (yeah, I didn´t plan that one all that well) and then we were off, climbing a glacier. Let me repeat that, so it really sinks in, folks. CLIMBING. A. GLACIER. Yeah, you heard me...
Petra and I are laughing, singing, cracking jokes, and even dancing as we scale this glacier - which, might I add, entertained our guides to no end, prompting one of them to ask on a particularly vertical ascent, "Se corte el baile?" the Spanish equivalent of, "What, no more dancing???" - when, of course, the sun disappears behind an enormous cloud, the wind picks up and it starts snowing. Did I mention how awesome this trip is?!! It´s snowing, I´m singing, and I´m on a glacier. Sweet.
Side note: Martha, Michelle, you know I´m totally remembering our hike up Mount Si as I´m trekking all over Perito Moreno Glacier, especially the parts where we were belting out show tunes and 70´s classics as we forced ourselves to keep moving up those switchbacks. Oh, how I love you guys! End note.
As the last part of the trek, the guides led us to this natural bowl in the glacier, where they set up some tables to serve the tour group some Scotch and alfajors (cookies filled with caramel, or dulce de leche). Although I don´t drink Scotch, I did enjoy the gesture.
To end our day, Petra and I had made reservations at La Tablita, El Calafate´s premier restaurant, famed for it´s Patagonian lamb. When it comes to meat in Argentina, these people really don´t understand portion control. We ordered the mixed grill for two - which included lamb, rumpsteak, and lomo (forgive me, I don´t even know my cuts of meat in English!) - and it was as if they had slaughtered three whole animals for us, and only us. Too much meat. Seriously. We also ordered their Provencal french fries, which, did not last more than 3 minutes, tops. This Patagonia weather and all the hiking, it really makes a woman ravenous (moreso than her usual self). Then came the Swiss chard, sauteed in garlic and olive oil, which I consumed by myself, happier than a clam, doing the happy food dance the whole time. Guys, I don´t know if you know this about me, but I really like to eat. And eat is what we did...it was GLORIOUS.
I don´t know if it´s all the physical activity, or if it´s the combination of being exposed to the elements all day (trust me, you should see how red my face has become due to the wind burn) and hiking my tush off, but food always tastes better after I´ve been wandering around all day in the Patagonian wildnerness. The smells, the textures, the flavors, they are all that much more potent and inviting.
So of course we ordered dessert - Petra, the calafate ice cream and me the homemade flan. Then Petra treated me to dinner, that sly woman! (Petra darling, thank you, thank you, thank you - it was a birthday I will never forget...)
And we even had them wrap up our leftover lamb and beef, and fed all the loose dogs on the way back to the hotel. It was a nice way to round out our day, surrounded by our amorous puppy dogs, laughing, and breathing in the cool, refreshing Patagonia air. I simply love it here.
Yet I must admit that I did miss all the phone calls from friends and da´ Momma, to help me celebrate my birthday by singing into my ear and reminding me why I love you all. So while I was thinking of all of you and wishing you could be here to celebrate with me, I want you to know that my birthday still rocked my world. Thirty-one is going to be good, I can feel it.
Then Friday was my actual birthday. Up at 6-ish, trying to wait patiently for my alarm to go off at 6:45 - it´s amazing how little your body is able to relax after such a tightly managed schedule for so long - and then it was off to hike on a glacier! It is really hard to describe how awesome an adventure that was. You take a bus to a boat, and you are standing in full view of one of only two glaciers in the world that are not receding (they´re stable, not advancing): Perito Moreno. The guides told us that it is one of the lowest glaciers in the world as well, located only about 180 meters above sea level, with the average glacier being located around 2,000 meters above sea level. So you can actually enjoy this glacier without freezing your tush off!!!
Well, Petra and I are kind of a force to behold, each one of us feeding off of the energy and laughter of the other, so by the time we were getting off the boat to start our glacier trek, we had concluded that the guides were going to rue the day that they got us as part of their tour. It quickly became our motto of the day: "Rue the day!" we´d shout and then flash two thumbs up. It sounds silly now, but it had us laughing through the whole day. When I finally get back to my own computer in Buenos Aires and have the capacity to upload photos (and don´t have to struggle with this Spanish keyboard), you will note how many of our pictures of us sporting our thumbs up and flashing big goofy smiles - our new normal "Rue the day!" pose.
Of course, just as happened the day before, the weather started out absolutely beautiful, with lots of sun and a few clouds to give the sky some detail and depth (great for photography). The guides had a hell of a time trying to get my enormous (read: not dainty) feet and my LL Bean slip-on finest shod in some cramp-ons (yeah, I didn´t plan that one all that well) and then we were off, climbing a glacier. Let me repeat that, so it really sinks in, folks. CLIMBING. A. GLACIER. Yeah, you heard me...
Petra and I are laughing, singing, cracking jokes, and even dancing as we scale this glacier - which, might I add, entertained our guides to no end, prompting one of them to ask on a particularly vertical ascent, "Se corte el baile?" the Spanish equivalent of, "What, no more dancing???" - when, of course, the sun disappears behind an enormous cloud, the wind picks up and it starts snowing. Did I mention how awesome this trip is?!! It´s snowing, I´m singing, and I´m on a glacier. Sweet.
Side note: Martha, Michelle, you know I´m totally remembering our hike up Mount Si as I´m trekking all over Perito Moreno Glacier, especially the parts where we were belting out show tunes and 70´s classics as we forced ourselves to keep moving up those switchbacks. Oh, how I love you guys! End note.
As the last part of the trek, the guides led us to this natural bowl in the glacier, where they set up some tables to serve the tour group some Scotch and alfajors (cookies filled with caramel, or dulce de leche). Although I don´t drink Scotch, I did enjoy the gesture.
To end our day, Petra and I had made reservations at La Tablita, El Calafate´s premier restaurant, famed for it´s Patagonian lamb. When it comes to meat in Argentina, these people really don´t understand portion control. We ordered the mixed grill for two - which included lamb, rumpsteak, and lomo (forgive me, I don´t even know my cuts of meat in English!) - and it was as if they had slaughtered three whole animals for us, and only us. Too much meat. Seriously. We also ordered their Provencal french fries, which, did not last more than 3 minutes, tops. This Patagonia weather and all the hiking, it really makes a woman ravenous (moreso than her usual self). Then came the Swiss chard, sauteed in garlic and olive oil, which I consumed by myself, happier than a clam, doing the happy food dance the whole time. Guys, I don´t know if you know this about me, but I really like to eat. And eat is what we did...it was GLORIOUS.
I don´t know if it´s all the physical activity, or if it´s the combination of being exposed to the elements all day (trust me, you should see how red my face has become due to the wind burn) and hiking my tush off, but food always tastes better after I´ve been wandering around all day in the Patagonian wildnerness. The smells, the textures, the flavors, they are all that much more potent and inviting.
So of course we ordered dessert - Petra, the calafate ice cream and me the homemade flan. Then Petra treated me to dinner, that sly woman! (Petra darling, thank you, thank you, thank you - it was a birthday I will never forget...)
And we even had them wrap up our leftover lamb and beef, and fed all the loose dogs on the way back to the hotel. It was a nice way to round out our day, surrounded by our amorous puppy dogs, laughing, and breathing in the cool, refreshing Patagonia air. I simply love it here.
Yet I must admit that I did miss all the phone calls from friends and da´ Momma, to help me celebrate my birthday by singing into my ear and reminding me why I love you all. So while I was thinking of all of you and wishing you could be here to celebrate with me, I want you to know that my birthday still rocked my world. Thirty-one is going to be good, I can feel it.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
El Chalten
For my 31st birthday, I decided to treat myself to a vacation, one which I had thought about for years as some nebulous life-list sort of thing, but for which I now live close enough to turn into a reality. I am currently enjoying the hell out of the first full day of my Patagonia vacation and yes, it is ALL THAT and a bag of chips!
First things first: I have another "only in Argentina" story for you.
Petra and I arrived in El Calafate last night. We had just found out some incredibly good news about her next job assignment (she got her number one choice and was accepted into one of the war colleges for their masters program on Campaigning - as in, how to wage war and kick people´s behinds!) so we decided we were going to go out for dinner and celebrate.
We landed in one of the restaurants along Libertador, the main street in town. Whilst munching through dinner and sipping our Malbec, the conversation turned to our taste in men and we were commenting on how different our choices of mates/lovers are from the physical speciman that we generally find attractive. (Please feel free to imagine just how loudly and vulgarly we might have been discussing this - after all, we love to live up to the Obnoxious American stereotype.)
The talk moves to other, more refined topics - I swear! - and, in mid-conversation, this lovely blond woman, who had been sitting at the table to the side of us walks up, and...
Lovely blond: "Excuse me, I don´t mean to put my nose in your conversation (note that she is not a native English speaker, which I find AWESOME), but I couldn´t hellp but eavesdrop and I just had to tell you something."
Petra and I: (exchanging mildly terrified looks with clearly false smiles pasted on our faces, wondering exactly which completely inappropriate conversation she´s about to inject her opinion on...)
Lovely blond: "When looking for a man, you need to go with tall, blue-eyed and Dutch. Can´t be beat."
Petra and I: (Looking over at her tall, blue-eyed and apparently Dutch male companion) "Dude, I think she likes you!" (insane, slightly relieved laughter inserted here - oh, don´t you wish you were a fly on the wall so you could know what else we were talking about! Sorry folks, hate to disappoint, but that´s between me, Petra and the two Dutch people...)
Ah, Argentina...how I love thee, let me count the ways...
So today was our first full day in El Calafate, er, mejor, in Patagonia. We actually caught a bus and drove out to El Chalten, about 3 hours away so we could hike and see the glory that is Fitz Roy (3,400 meters), one of the tallest, if not the tallest, peaks in the Patagonia region. I can´t even begin to tell you how amazing it was. I just absolutely LOVE being here. I have spent the last year or so completely stressing myself out, moving four times between four different countries, pushing myself to excel at my job, forcing myself to be more social to help me cope with ending my 5 1/2 year relationship with Anthony, and just generally draining my energy reserves...that it feels really fantastic to get away from it all, to be out in the wild, windy, isolated awesomeness that is Patagonia.
While I wouldn´t take away a single experience of the past year, I am finally able to breathe. In an out, in and out...the sound of the wind rushing past my ears as I stand on a hiking path, or the moments of silence that follow when the wind abruptly stops - such a balm for my soul. I love, love LOVE IT.
Petra and I have now seen a small part of El Chalten, the tiny little pueblo of approximately 700 inhabitants - the only town allowed to crop up in the middle of the Glacier Reserve, to cater to the tourism industry. El Chalten is only 25 years old and still far from being connected to today´s world - their one ATM isn´t quite a year old, no cell phone gets a signal there, and many of the buildings are still constructed out of tin or whatever other scraps they could somehow get delivered to this isolated corner of Argentina. The town is clearly a hiker´s paradise, with most of the people you see clearly not having seen a shower in too long a time (or a haircut either) and all of them decked out in North Face gear and hiking packs. It is a very harsh, rough terrain, good for nothing other than tourism. So hotels, restaurants, and panaderias are cropping up all up and down the sometimes paved, and sometimes rocky, roads of this hiking outcrop.
When we arrived, we had a half hour before we were to join our guide, so Petra and I decided to walk around a bit. It started raining a bit, then a little bit harder so, to save our cameras, we ducked into the next shop that looked interesting: La Waffleria. Although we didn´t have time for their waffles, we did have time for mint and cinnamon hot cocoa. I have never tasted a hot chocolate so viscous in my life, at such a perfect "hot but not too hot" temperature. The thickness, the flavor, the warmth...just spread through me. LOVE.
When we left, we spotted our purple van just outside - our driver had been driving around town, desperately searching for us, thinking we had got lost (as if we could! All of El Chalten can fit in two city blocks). He even admitted to thinking we might have been eaten by a puma. A puma!!!
Side note: I don´t know what our driver´s real name was, but our tour guide said it was, "Harry...as in Harry Potter! Doesn´t he look like Harry Potter???" So, for the rest of the day, he was our Harry Potter. End side note.
So we met up with our hike guide and the two Argentines of clearly German descent who would be joining us for our hike. The shortest possible way to tell this story is as follows: We climbed up and up and up. It was raining very little, with a bright sun. We took pictures and climbed up some more. Somewhere along the way it started getting windier, the sky grew gray, it rained harder. We didn´t get a clear view of Fitz Roy because of the cloud cover, but we saw beautiful trees, hardy flowers, lots of crazy plants, a glacier, and a lake. At the lake, we stopped to eat lunch. And that is when it STARTED HAILING. It was freakin´unbelievable. I could barely feel my hands to unpack my lunch, and I´m getting pelted with hail, and I´m drinking this all in, thinking, "I couldn´t be happier to be here."
We looped back and hit the trail we started on and descended. I was the last in our group for nearly the whole hike, since I was stopping to admire some part of the nature we were passing, taking pictures, or just pausing on the trail to stand there, with my eyes closed, breathing in the clean, brisk air. There was even a moment on the descent, when I halted on the trail because I could hear the wind in the trees behind me. I looked back and the trees in the distance were tossing about violently, in the throes of a particularly strong wind. I knew it was coming our way. And it hit with startling ferocity, forcing me to take a few steps forward to steady myself on the trail and a huge laugh erupted out me, entirely unbidden, that felt like it came from my toes. It was such a strange, delightful moment for me.
After the hike, our whole group - Petra, myself, our tour guide, Harry Potter, our hike guide, and the two Germans - went into town for ice cream. We sat on colored cubes, and ate enough calafate ice cream to turn our tongues purple. (Calafate is the name of a berry here, which looks remarkably like a blueberry and tastes like a cross between a blueberry and a boysenberry.) Then we loaded up the purple van again and turned our eyes South, back to El Calafate.
I can´t even begin to describe how happy I am to be here in this place, right now, in this particular space of time. I wish you were here.
First things first: I have another "only in Argentina" story for you.
Petra and I arrived in El Calafate last night. We had just found out some incredibly good news about her next job assignment (she got her number one choice and was accepted into one of the war colleges for their masters program on Campaigning - as in, how to wage war and kick people´s behinds!) so we decided we were going to go out for dinner and celebrate.
We landed in one of the restaurants along Libertador, the main street in town. Whilst munching through dinner and sipping our Malbec, the conversation turned to our taste in men and we were commenting on how different our choices of mates/lovers are from the physical speciman that we generally find attractive. (Please feel free to imagine just how loudly and vulgarly we might have been discussing this - after all, we love to live up to the Obnoxious American stereotype.)
The talk moves to other, more refined topics - I swear! - and, in mid-conversation, this lovely blond woman, who had been sitting at the table to the side of us walks up, and...
Lovely blond: "Excuse me, I don´t mean to put my nose in your conversation (note that she is not a native English speaker, which I find AWESOME), but I couldn´t hellp but eavesdrop and I just had to tell you something."
Petra and I: (exchanging mildly terrified looks with clearly false smiles pasted on our faces, wondering exactly which completely inappropriate conversation she´s about to inject her opinion on...)
Lovely blond: "When looking for a man, you need to go with tall, blue-eyed and Dutch. Can´t be beat."
Petra and I: (Looking over at her tall, blue-eyed and apparently Dutch male companion) "Dude, I think she likes you!" (insane, slightly relieved laughter inserted here - oh, don´t you wish you were a fly on the wall so you could know what else we were talking about! Sorry folks, hate to disappoint, but that´s between me, Petra and the two Dutch people...)
Ah, Argentina...how I love thee, let me count the ways...
So today was our first full day in El Calafate, er, mejor, in Patagonia. We actually caught a bus and drove out to El Chalten, about 3 hours away so we could hike and see the glory that is Fitz Roy (3,400 meters), one of the tallest, if not the tallest, peaks in the Patagonia region. I can´t even begin to tell you how amazing it was. I just absolutely LOVE being here. I have spent the last year or so completely stressing myself out, moving four times between four different countries, pushing myself to excel at my job, forcing myself to be more social to help me cope with ending my 5 1/2 year relationship with Anthony, and just generally draining my energy reserves...that it feels really fantastic to get away from it all, to be out in the wild, windy, isolated awesomeness that is Patagonia.
While I wouldn´t take away a single experience of the past year, I am finally able to breathe. In an out, in and out...the sound of the wind rushing past my ears as I stand on a hiking path, or the moments of silence that follow when the wind abruptly stops - such a balm for my soul. I love, love LOVE IT.
Petra and I have now seen a small part of El Chalten, the tiny little pueblo of approximately 700 inhabitants - the only town allowed to crop up in the middle of the Glacier Reserve, to cater to the tourism industry. El Chalten is only 25 years old and still far from being connected to today´s world - their one ATM isn´t quite a year old, no cell phone gets a signal there, and many of the buildings are still constructed out of tin or whatever other scraps they could somehow get delivered to this isolated corner of Argentina. The town is clearly a hiker´s paradise, with most of the people you see clearly not having seen a shower in too long a time (or a haircut either) and all of them decked out in North Face gear and hiking packs. It is a very harsh, rough terrain, good for nothing other than tourism. So hotels, restaurants, and panaderias are cropping up all up and down the sometimes paved, and sometimes rocky, roads of this hiking outcrop.
When we arrived, we had a half hour before we were to join our guide, so Petra and I decided to walk around a bit. It started raining a bit, then a little bit harder so, to save our cameras, we ducked into the next shop that looked interesting: La Waffleria. Although we didn´t have time for their waffles, we did have time for mint and cinnamon hot cocoa. I have never tasted a hot chocolate so viscous in my life, at such a perfect "hot but not too hot" temperature. The thickness, the flavor, the warmth...just spread through me. LOVE.
When we left, we spotted our purple van just outside - our driver had been driving around town, desperately searching for us, thinking we had got lost (as if we could! All of El Chalten can fit in two city blocks). He even admitted to thinking we might have been eaten by a puma. A puma!!!
Side note: I don´t know what our driver´s real name was, but our tour guide said it was, "Harry...as in Harry Potter! Doesn´t he look like Harry Potter???" So, for the rest of the day, he was our Harry Potter. End side note.
So we met up with our hike guide and the two Argentines of clearly German descent who would be joining us for our hike. The shortest possible way to tell this story is as follows: We climbed up and up and up. It was raining very little, with a bright sun. We took pictures and climbed up some more. Somewhere along the way it started getting windier, the sky grew gray, it rained harder. We didn´t get a clear view of Fitz Roy because of the cloud cover, but we saw beautiful trees, hardy flowers, lots of crazy plants, a glacier, and a lake. At the lake, we stopped to eat lunch. And that is when it STARTED HAILING. It was freakin´unbelievable. I could barely feel my hands to unpack my lunch, and I´m getting pelted with hail, and I´m drinking this all in, thinking, "I couldn´t be happier to be here."
We looped back and hit the trail we started on and descended. I was the last in our group for nearly the whole hike, since I was stopping to admire some part of the nature we were passing, taking pictures, or just pausing on the trail to stand there, with my eyes closed, breathing in the clean, brisk air. There was even a moment on the descent, when I halted on the trail because I could hear the wind in the trees behind me. I looked back and the trees in the distance were tossing about violently, in the throes of a particularly strong wind. I knew it was coming our way. And it hit with startling ferocity, forcing me to take a few steps forward to steady myself on the trail and a huge laugh erupted out me, entirely unbidden, that felt like it came from my toes. It was such a strange, delightful moment for me.
After the hike, our whole group - Petra, myself, our tour guide, Harry Potter, our hike guide, and the two Germans - went into town for ice cream. We sat on colored cubes, and ate enough calafate ice cream to turn our tongues purple. (Calafate is the name of a berry here, which looks remarkably like a blueberry and tastes like a cross between a blueberry and a boysenberry.) Then we loaded up the purple van again and turned our eyes South, back to El Calafate.
I can´t even begin to describe how happy I am to be here in this place, right now, in this particular space of time. I wish you were here.
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