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. |
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