The following is a list of events and observations I have encountered over the past few days:
--The other day while hanging in the park with my friend Matt some local kids asked us if we wanted in on their football game. We walked over to the field and sat on the sidelines with all the other players on the bench. Apparently in Buenos Aires instead of downing Gatorade on the sidelines, they are firm believers in replenishing their energy with the power of a joint. It was incredible to watch players run off the field, just to take a hit and then run back on the pitch and play an intense pick-up game.
I can't confirm or deny my participation, but I ended up deciding to not play because I forgot I was asked to play and because I was engaged in a 10-minute conversation about Ryan Gomes with my friend who goes to Providence.
--I'm slowly trying to become a Porteño (Buenos Aires resident). I have ran into a friend on the bus and the other day I gave somebody directions in the city. And by gave directions I mean somebody asked me where Avenida Cordoba was and I told them they were on Avenida Cordoba. It took everything in me to not say, "Hey take it easy! You're on third street."
--I had my first day of class on Tuesday, which was a pleasant surprise considering I thought I had class Monday until 1:00 am Monday when I realized Martes was Tuesday.
Maybe I do belong in the pre-intermediate Spanish class.
--Back to Tuesday when I had my contemporary art class. It was fairly boring and I wouldn't even mention it if not for two noteworthy moments. One, I attend a Catholic university, which is fine because I'm pretty ambivalent toward all the crucifixes and pictures of Pope Benny 16 around campus. But upon sitting down in my first class at school I look out the window and see a huge swastika etched into the glass. This was the silliest part of class until the teacher started lecturing on an artist who last name was "Schvartz."
--I thought "Schvartz" would be the funniest name I'd encounter all week, but I was wrong. In my Spanish class on Wednesday, which pleasantly lacked any nazi propaganda, the teacher wrote her name, "D'Acunto" on the board. Being the immature kid I am, my instant reflex caused me to turn around and look for a smirk from Shiffy or Spencer, who were thousands of miles away.
I can now say that not my friends not being there for a great cunt joke was the first time I felt homesick.
--Driving in Buenos Aires is on a whole different level from anything I have ever seen. There are so many intersections that should have traffic lights or four-way stops, but instead have nothing. Cars literally gun it through the intersection and if there happens to be another car, they slam on the brakes at the last second possible. It is just incredible to see this happen over and over again, all day, every day.
Whenever I have to cross the street, I wait until I don't see any cars for at least three miles, then I sprint across the street.
Buses here do not give a fuck. About anyone or anything. I've been compiling a mental list of some of the more gully moves I have seen buses make and I'll run that another day. But just the other day I was crossing a street behind a family, because I figured a mother and three kids under the age of 10 would be a great shield that nobody would want to kill and because sometimes it's cool to have no shame and use a small family as a human shield. I was wrong. A bus came within 8 inches of wiping them all out before they jumped out of the way.
Two nights ago I went on the wildest ride of my life in a cab. Spencer, Spicker and Andy this ride beat our drive-through-the-streets-of-Oakland-with-no-headlights-at-high-speeds ride, which I thought would never be beat. The dude was flying through busy streets, dipping in and out of cars, blatantly running red lights. There were times when the lane merged from two to one lane and he would barely miss running into a wall and cut off a bus at the absolute last second.
He was cutting between buses like Walter Payton would cut through defensive linemen. If there were semis on the street, I have no doubt that the motherfucker would have Fast-and-Furious-ed his way under the semi.
My friends were talking to each other like the plane was going down, declaring their love for everyone. I just sat there in awe.
--There's a ton more that I don't have time for right now. Here's some quick photos:
Sunday in a park in Recoleta, where my friends and I messed around with some slacklines. My friend Matt is sick at it, my personal record was four steps.
There was Brazilian dance fighting going on, as people free-styled Brazilian music in the back.
This guy was crazy, he spent 45 minutes dancing by himself then went around the entire park on his knees shoveling cigarette butts into an empty Pepsi bottle with a stick.
This is Ezekiel, he was just a random guy at the park who killed the slacklines.
This is picture of him jumping from slackline to slackline, he would bounce around all of them, like a trampoline. He would jump from the slackline to tree and back the slackline. He was insane.