I promised you pictures

In Puerto Madero, with the "Ladies' Bridge" in the background.

Kaitlin gets cheeky over Labor Day weekend.

Wandering through the weekend market outside of Recoleta Cemetery.

Meandering through the Recoleta Cemetery, with no rhyme or reason (and before the mad search for Evita's grave).

More Recoleta Cemetery, which to me looks like a city of the dead straight out of a Tim Burton movie.

The lovely roots of a rubber tree.



I told you I like to brunch.  And, as far as I'm concerned, there are only 2 places to do so here in Buenos Aires.  I brought Kaitlin and Matt to Oui Oui, where both Kaitlin and I enjoyed submarinos (hot milk in which you melt dark unsweetened chocolate).



I can't just have a submarino!  Huevos completos are totally necessary.  And their version of homefries?  Freakin' fantastic.

Note Matt's excessive attention to the particulars of fork and knife use-ery at the brunch table.

The Casa Rosada (Argentina's answer to the White House) is wide open to visitors.  There are no metal detectors, no guards, no nothing.  You can just walk right in and take your picture with Evita's portrait.

Matt was so happy until he lost his "44" sign.

Stopping for a rest after wandering the neverending market on La Defensa.

When you don't have a reservation, you wait outside on the sidewalk forever.  But the free champagne makes it all okay.  (Note Matt's sporting of the 151st belt buckle!)

Nile, who I am convinced is the world's most fashionable baby, seen here in her Labor Day best at Evita Cafe.

Nile and Mommy Megan.

My life is a whirlwind

Things I meant to write about, but didn't:

• Undersecretary McHale, the highest ranking Public Affairs official in the entire U.S. government, visited Buenos Aires and I got assigned at the last minute to be one of the control officers for the visit.  She had just appointed a brand new Deputy Assistant Secretary (DAS) and it was my job to cater to the new DAS's every whim and desire throughout the trip.  It was absolutely AWESOME.  McHale's staff really made me feel welcome and part of the team, and all the folks from our public affairs section at the embassy were simply terrific.  I don't expect that all our VIP trips will be so delightful, but at least my first experience was pretty damn fabulous.
• Aaaaaaaaaaaar!  There was a pirate party!  Seriously, kiddos, a PIRATE PARTY.  I was only one of three absolute fools that didn't believe Petra was serious when she told us to get costumes.  So I stole Monica's pirate hat and pretended to be a safari pirate.
• Two of my classmates from A-100 traveled to Buenos Aires for Labor Day weekend.  This meant that I finally got out of my apartment on a weekend for something more than brunch (not that eating is a bad thing, but even I was beginning to wonder where my sense of adventure had disappeared to).  We walked all over the city (in a sad attempt to wear Kaitlin out by walking her to death), visiting the Recoleta Cemetery to visit Evita's grave, the leather stores of Florida Street, the obelisk, the San Telmo flea market where Mateo bought the infamous "44" sign that would end up disappearing by the time he returned to Asuncion, the markets of Recoleta and La Defensa (where we enjoyed watching Matt sweat over which hand-painted wood and glass box to purchase for his sister - for at least 30 minutes)...oh, and we brunched!  ROCK.
• And, after finally receiving my HHE and attempting to unpack, I am now on a work trip to Neuquen City, in Neuquen province.  I don't return home to my baby, Maggie, until Sunday afternoon and right now it's KILLING me.  I miss Maggie (who knew?) and I am so exhausted by the end of the day that I just slink away to my room, hoping no one notices or talks to me.  This whole livng your life in a foreign language thing?  It takes so much concentration that my brain cells are seriously contemplating suicide due the stress.  Some of my contacts have taken pity on me, such as the one today that drove me all around creation and back and then bought me ice cream!  He finally deposited me at my bed and breakfast around 8:30PM.  We actually spent 8 1/2 hours together!!!  Ay, it's a crazy life I lead.  The upside?  Well, there are a few things to list, but I'll describe two highlights: 1) the owners of the bed and breakfast have a Maltese that just had puppies about 3 weeks ago.  PUPPIES.  And I get to touch them.  2) Tomorrow I am going to visit a winery and I am going to pretend that this is a vacation.

Sandra and Monica playing the part of the hot pirates.  (Thanks for the Puss in Boots hat, Monica!)

Pirates of the Caribbean, Jason and Pablito.

My favorte Somali pirate, Richie.

The captain herself, Petra, and our very own gender-bending pirate, Megan.

More pictures will be coming soon, once I get back to Buenos Aires and actually have the cable to download...

Almost like home

Good news: my HHE arrives tomorrow!

Well, at least a portion of it. Somehow, in between moving out of Mexico, Massachusetts, and DC, my things got shipped in 2 different pallets.  So I really don't know what I'm getting tomorrow - not that I would know anyway, since I really haven't seen any of my things since last September (yes, that's ONE YEAR ago).  It's like Christmas Eve here in Buenos Aires, folks!

*HHE = household effects or "all that crap they threw into boxes, dumped on a boat, and shipped to Argentina"

You say hello, I say goodbye...

One of the core skills Foreign Service Officers need to develop is the ability to say goodbye...constantly.  With tours lasting, on average, two years, we move in and out of other peoples' lives at a dizzyingly rapid pace.  It can be a disconcerting process, especially when you come to really care for the people you share this globe-trotting life with.  The chances of running into one another again is both large (after all, the Foreign Service corps is quite small) and miniscule (Foreign Service Officers may quit, retire, or just get posted far away from you at all times).

I arrived in Argentina a little over a month ago, but I've already begun saying goodbye.  Summer is the season for staff turnovers and this summer is no exception.  For (nearly) each one of us dozen or so new officers at post, someone had to move on to another posting.  Not to mention all our summer interns and fellows.

The first of the despedidas (for people I know, anyway) was earlier this month, when the Econ Section said goodbye to our Pickering Fellow, Karina.  She and I shared a true love for whining at each other - seriously, folks, I can make Karina's name into a twenty-second whine at the drop of a hat.  And I already miss how she used to sit at her desk and laugh at her email so loud that it carried throughout the office, forcing everyone to peer out and ask just what was so funny.

Cynthia, Megan (the world's fiercest OMS), Yours Truly, Karina

This weekend we also said goodbye to the Political Section's intern, Patrick, and his lovely wife, Whitney.  We've easily discovered that they both bowl better than I (honestly, even Mad Maggie Delicious could bowl better than I, despite the lack of opposable thumbs) and very soon we will be missing their presence at all the after-hours events, plus all of Patrick's hard work at the office (nearly the entire Political Section just turned over, so the work of 6 or so full-time Americans was being handled by one Political Officer and Patrick for weeks on end).

Patrick, Whitney, Megan, Nile (the world's most fashionable, dance-crazy baby), and Neil

My Friday night, in fact, was spent fare-ing-thee-well to Patrick and Whitney, where I met some new non-embassy people while also toasting with some friends from within the embassy community.  The funny thing is that it looks as though one of the people I met Friday night will be crashing in my guest room for the next two nights.  So while Patrick and Whitney flew back to the States today, they leave a bit of a legacy for me.

Life in the Foreign Service is certainly never static.

I wish you well, Patrick, Whitney and Karina.  May our paths cross again...

A moment in Austen

This evening I sub'd in for the Ambassador at a musical soiree hosted by the Sofitel Hotel in downtown Buenos Aires.  It featured violinist Palbo Saravi and guitarrist Victor Villadangos, who played pieces by Niccolo Paganini, Carlos Guastavino, Jacques Ibert, Maura Giuliani, Maximo Pujol, and Astor Piazzolla.

We were served champagne in a beautifully appointed (yellow!) room, and my friend Vanna and I were seated in one of the reserved couches at the front of the room.  It was a very small affair, with perhaps 50 people in attendance.  To our left was the Ambassador to Belgium and to our right the Ambassador to New Zealand (who were both relatively nonplussed when they discovered we were basically nobodies).

The moment the music started, I couldn't help but think that this is what it felt like to be at a musical concert in the Victorian age (although back then I would have been more likely to exchange the grey suit for a more elegant dress).  Without t.v. and the internet to entertain us, concerts and plays would have been the greatest source of amusement, other than a country ball.

And I completely fell in love, all over again, with the violin.  Some of the pieces were tangoes, some not, but all were painfully, beautifully melancholy, with such a sweet air to them.

I did try to give the guitarrist his share of my attentions, because clearly he was a master at his craft, but I just couldn't look away from the violin for long.  What a beautiful, beautiful instrument.

The only downside to the evening is the fact that I am just now going to bed, at midnight.  Just five hours and forty-five minutes until the next work day starts for me.  And to just think: some Argentines are just now going out for supper.

Feeling awkward

The life of a diplomat isn't always so glamorous.

No, seriously.  Stop laughing.  I wasn't joking. 

There are many times when you have to attend functions that you don't want to be at, where you're thinking, "I could be at home in my pjs watching the Home Shopping Network," or, "Did I accidentally leave the stove on again?"  And this is instead of paying attention to whatever awe-inspiring presentation is being given or conversation is being lobbed your way. 

One would think that this should be the normal course of things for someone in the Foreign Service and, moreover, that the foreign service officer (FSO) would be all attentive and interested, but I have to admit that I am a very poor excuse for a FSO.

Well, add to that a foreign language and you can end up having some really long, and really painful, events.  I was at a luncheon on Tuesday, hosted by a very active group of Argentine business owners, and I was subbing in for the Ambassador.  Of course, having just recently arrived, I didn't know anyone, but my boss told me I had to go so I was there.  On time.  Unlike nearly everyone else. 

My (clearly faulty) understanding was that, when it comes to business situations, things in Argentina will start on time.  The luncheon was scheduled for 12:30.  So I naturally arrived at 12:45.  I believe I was the fifth attendee to arrive (out of 100-200).  Talk about awkward.

We were not allowed into the main dining hall, of course, and were meant to mingle in the lobby, while servers weaved through the crowds, handing out appetizers and drinks.  Two very unfortunate things immediately crossed my mind:

• Being a natural-born klutz, I could not eat anything on offer if I did not want to wear it on my suit or introduce myself to people with something nasty and green between my front teeth.  It would also impede my newly developed, quick-action business-card-giving skill.  Mad skill, yo.
• Of the five of us that were there, I didn't know 4 of them, but I was going to have to grow a pair and go introduce myself to at least one of them.  Even more unfortunately for me, most of these people actually knew each other, so they were already clumping in small groups...drats!

...except for this one gentleman, who was off in the corner making calls, that is.  I developed a plan to introduce myself to him, the second he got off the phone.  I eyeball'd the hell out of him until he finished talking - in fact, he may have been so uncomfortable (or maybe he thought I was checking him out?) that he eventually just gave up on the phone and came over to introduce himself to me.  And so I made my first contact!  The upside: he spoke English, having grown up in Massachusetts largely until he was 9.  ROCK.

So my new friend Wency was the perfect gentleman, introducing me to all the other business leaders and entourages as they arrived, trying his damnedest to make me feel welcome.  I think, actually, that he enjoyed meeting someone outside of the norm, and I'm sure it helped that I was a good 30 years younger than most of the other attendees (and also one of the only women).  So it was a good fit, me and Wency, until we had cocktail-hour'd our way through 1 1/2 hours and it was time to actually sit in the dining room - at our assigned tables.  Wency and I were split up.  Drats again!

At this point, I was so hungry I could hardly focus on anything other people were saying.  If you've never learned a foreign language before, or if you're one of those people who are really talented linguistically, you might not understand how much constant focus it requires to partake in a conversation in a foreign language.  Noting that I usually eat lunch at 11:30AM and snack pretty much all the time, on this particular day it was approaching 2PM and I still hadn't eaten a damn thing so my concentration was somewhere along the negative scale. 

Which ended up being fine, actually, because here is what happened: everyone did the whole, "Buenas tardes, Soy --, mucho gusto conocerle..." with a healthy dose of cheek-kissing, we sat down in our assigned seats, and then the two people on either side of me immediately turned to the person on the other side of them and began long, drawn-out conversations.  So I just sat there like a dumb mute.  It was awesome.  And by "awesome," I mean "awkward."

Then, they still didn't give me any food.  The program included a presentation by one of the presidential candidates (elections are in October 2011) so there would be no food until he had spoken.  So the only thing the servers dropped on the table was a small bowl of breads and breadsticks, water and wine.

The presidential hopeful began his remarks and I tried my darnedest to listen, but I don't know if it was the lack of food that made me a little nutty, or his heavy accent/use of lunfardo/inability not to mumble, but I understood maybe 1 in every 50 words - not enough to get even the tiniest hope of an understanding of what was being said.  The dumb mute routine continued.

When he finally stopped speaking, we were (finally!) served lunch.  You will not be surprised to know that it was a steak, with a vegetable or two for garnish.  I ate as delicately as I could, which was near impossible as I was freakin' ravenous.  My table-mates continued to ignore me.  One even fell asleep - that was pretty sweet.

Then there was a question-answer session with the presidential hopeful - thankfully they served dessert while he was speaking, so I could have something to do other than sit there and look like I understood the words coming out of his mouth.

Suffice to say that I felt really inadequate to the task.

As soon as the program was over, I kissed all the Argentine cheeks within a ten-foot radius that I could see, and then made a mad dash for the door, my tail very much between my legs.

But, it couldn't be that easy.  The woman who organized the event stopped me at the door to introduce herself and tell me how wonderful it is to have a representative of the U.S. Embassy at the event.  She was gracious enough to invite me to the lunches whenever it is that the Ambassador can't be there.  I think I did pretty well, when I expressed how interesting the event was and thanked her kindly for the invitation. 

Yet as soon as there was an opening, I 50-yard-dashed it for the ladies room.  And then I was out of the hotel like a shot - FOUR HOURS LATER.

Clearly, I still have a lot of work to do.

Success!

Two more things have been checked off of my list of things to do to settle in to Buenos Aires:

1. Harass the good people down in shipping until my unaccompanied air baggage (UAB) arrives: if you recall, UAB is the 250lbs of random crap we get to ship to ourselves faster than the rest of our household crap (also known as HHE, or household effects).  When Anthony and I moved to Peru, it took our UAB 5 months to reach us; in Mexico, it took about a month; here in Buenos Aires, I've got them down to 3 weeks.  And now I have my winter coat, my gym gloves, dog food for Maggie, and a whole bunch of random toiletries, just to name a few things that I am appreciating at the moment.
2. I.  Have.  Internet.  I cannot stress this enough: internet is the world traveler's LIFESAVER.  Although it took weeks to figure out who Miguel Delfino is (the guy whose name is on my bill) so I could just get some freakin' WiFi service (long story), you are now free to Skype me at any time.  I've got my headphones and I'm waiting.  Bueller...?

See?  It takes so little to make me happy.