The ying and yang of Ken and Helen regarding class.

As usual Ken and I see things differently. I wasn´t ready to form an opinion of school the first day, but feel more confident now after the first week. The two odd-men-out are gone. The one man who didn´t even know his numbers has moved to a class below ours, and the other man whose skills were far superior to any of ours has moved up. The rest of us seem well suited enough in our skills to form a cohesive class enviornment. The swiss woman is the best, the sweet chinese girl has ok skills but works like the proverbial chinese grad student and takes tutoring after our class. She is improving rapidly and will probably learn more than any of us. She claims all this spanish studying is making her lose her english skills. The cute little home sick girl didn´t come today, Ken thinks she dropped out. The rest of us are doing fine. We have two teachers for different days. The one Ken took a picture of is my favorite so far. She is very pleasant, but no nonsense. She doesn´t waste any time, and is serious about us doing it right. We only have 4 weeks, I really want us to keep moving. The enormity of learning another language is daunting. Ken and I could move here and study for 20 more yrs and not become native speakers. You need teenagers around, and little ones, and a history for word context and slang. As always, the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don´t know.

Pronunciation and Refrigeration by Helen

Pronunciation is a real challenge. For example, the other day I ordered some ham. Jamón común. There are lots of kinds of ham, and I wanted común. The nice lady repeated it for me several times and I repeated it back, not hearing at all what fine differences she is hearing. Hah-mun ko-mun. After a few trys she tells me I said it ¨perfecto¨. Today I went to the same store and a man was working instead of the woman. I said ¨Hah-mun ko-mun por favor¨ in my best practiced accent. He just looked at me with no idea what I wanted. I repeated it two more times and he said ¨Jamon natural?¨ Now, how did we get from the sound of ¨ko-mun¨ to the sound of ¨na-ture-el?¨ I mean, really, how could I have possibly been THAT far off. But that is the rule, not the exception. He was old though, maybe he was deaf. I´d like to think that he is deaf, and that I said jamon comun perfecto. And, like the states, 5 people will tell you 5 different answers to the same question regarding definitions, or what words are used for what, or when or how. For example, I went to the bar and asked the bartender what he is called. He said he was called ¨bartender¨. Now this surprised me because I thought he may have been speaking english, so I questioned him again and again. Yup, barTENDER. So, in my homework essay I use the word ¨bartender¨ and the teacher tells me there is no such word. Barman maybe, but bartender, no. No sense arguing, just erase TENDER and insert MAN. Anyway, I came home with 12 pesos worth of ham instead of 5.50 pesos which I wanted.

As for refrigeration, I am beginning to question everything we keep cold in the states. When you go to the deli and order ham and the person takes it out of the case, is the case cold? When a deli makes sandwiches ahead of time for lunch, do they keep them cold? Have you ever seen eggs that were just kept out on the counter? Well, the ham and cheese from the deli are sold at a temperature that is the same as the warm un-airconditioned store, and the sandwiches sit in windows for god-knows-how-long and eggs are never refrigerated. At home I´m afraid to eat the ham if it accidentally sits out all night, but here I am buying it that way. Maybe it is preserved differently, I don´t know, but when in Rome . . . (good thing I got that hep-A shot)

Studying Spanish in the Cafés (Ken)

The young Porteños are really great.

We go the the cafés and bars to do our UBA homework. Here is Helen getting help with her Spanish from Francisco, Lucas, and Mercedes.

We go at times when the restaurants are slow. Los mozos are not busy at that time. They see us with our books and cuadernos and take an interest. We ask them about conjugating verbs and the baffling "vos" form. Everywhere else in the the world uses "tu eres" for "you are" except for here. Here they use "vos sos." Y la professora insiste.

Another favorite spot to study is Pizza Cala a block up Junin. Paula, who is studying to be a cardiologist at UBA, tells us the names of things and explains the food on the menu. She was really happy that today she learned a new English word, "sick," and the English words "right" and "left."

They seem to really enjoy helping us learn their language.

The portero in my building, José Luis, also gets a kickout of saying "Good Morning" to us in English. That´s about it for him.

Oh, one more funny thing before I call it a night. . .

We went to Disco, that is the name of our local grocery store (no kidding, it really is), and when we went to pay, the cajero says, "¿Deesco Pluce?" Helen says, "Repite, pro favor," and he says, "¿Deesco Pluce?"

Helen shakes her head and says, "No entiendo." Just then, the woman behind us in line holds out a plastic card the size of a credit card. On it is printed: DISCO PLUS. It is their store discount card.

Just when I think we´re going to get away clean, they throw us a curveball.

Los negocios de Buenos Aires (Ken)

In Buenos Aires, it seems that every negocio is a specialty shop.

Today, in one short stretch of Avenida Santa Fe, I passed a shop that sells nothing but children´s clothes . . .

Next to a shop that sells nothing but perfume . . . .

And a shop that has nothing but Teddy Bears.

On my way back nome, I turned the corner at Uriburu where I passed Aoki Electronic, a shop that actually fixes electronic devices. For those of you in the USA over the age of 40, you may have some idea what I am talking about. Instead of throwing your broken DVD player in the trash, you take it somewhere and they fix it and it works again.

Which brings us to the topic of today´s post--the saga of the video camera, o la filmadora.

You have to understand that getting something fixed in the USA is, for me, a stressful and intimidating experience. I dread the strange noise in the car, the day the furnace won´t light, the lawn mower that won´t start. I know that I am at a distinct disadvantage to the technician who will be making the decision as to what can be done and what it will cost me. So imagine, my readers, what this experience is like for me after being in Argentina for 11 days and needing something repaired.

At this point, you will need some back story.

Richard, my colleague in the video production lab at my college, sent me to Buenos Aires with a JVC mini DVD camcorder so that I could send tapes back to Maryland about Argentina and my experiences here. He would then edit those tapes and play them on the college´s cable TV station.

I got some really good video my first week here: the cemetary, the Recoleta Market. I was starting a story on transportation when the camera just stopped working--no funcionando.

Also, I am on a bit of a deadline here. As I mentioned before, the mother of another colleague of mine in the math department, is here in BA. However, she is leaving Friday. She is going to take the tape back to Joanna (who is picking her up a the airport) who would then take it to Richard at the college, who would then edit it for TV.

However---no power, no ejecting the tape.

Which now bings us back to Sr. Aoki. He is a Japanese man who has had this electronic shop in Recoleta since 1978. Which brings us back to the point of this post--the preconceived stress involved in a repair negotiation. Which now, ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, will be done in Spanish. (I´ll pause a moment to let that sink in . . . . . . . . . . .) Moving on.

First off, I made the mistake of initially using enough Spanish to mislead Señor Aoki into thinking I could actually hold up my end of the conversation. Once he started asking me specific questions about the problem, I was lost. !Maldición¡ I would have been lost in the USA speaking English at this point.

We worked it out, though. It will cost me $30 pesos, (about US$10) to see if he can fix it, and he got the tape out, so, at least, Richard can start some editing when he gets the tape next week. I understand that mailing it from Argentina and expecting Richard to get it will be something akin to the Eskimo boy´s carved boat in Paddle to the Sea.



This was a big one, though. I successfully negotiated something fairly technical in a foreign language. I doubt I would have been more successful in the USA. Then again, in the USA, I would have thrown it away and bought another. . .

La premiera dia de classe (Ken)

Helen and I started class today at UBA. We took the #110 colectivo to Palermo where there is a private Armenian school. The kids are on summer vacation, so UBA uses it as an extension campus.

The photo is of the professora, Andrea. We are in the beginners class. We didn´t even need to take the placement exam to get placed here. We are at the bottom of the bottom of extanjeros studying español.

It is a bit of a dissapointment for me. I took Spanish for three semesters and a summer just to end up at the beginning. I mean, there are people in this class who cannot even count to 10 or say "good morning, how are you?" in Spanish. I guess I am more embarrassed than anything else. I now have a better understanding of how my students feel when they are tested in reading and writing and we place them in developmental classes. It is discouraging and embarrassing.

Helen thinks that it is because Argentine Spanish is soooo much different than other Latin American countries. The accent is very different and many words we learned are not used here. For example, I went out buy a pen and asked for a "bolígrafo." Well, here they are called "birome" (thanks for the correction, Juan).

I know I didn´t do well on the written exam, but I thought I did very well with the interview. Helen thinks that the placement examiners just didn´t understand my vocabulary or accent. I disagree, though. These are really smart Argentine professoras who understand the variations of vocabulary and accent throughout the Spanish-speaking world. I just didn´t do well.

Rather, I think I was placed here because I slacked off after Thanksgiving. I was getting behind in my own classes with my own students and stopped going to class and studying to catch up with them. I was also getting ready fo the holidays (Felices Fiestas) and making final preparations for the trip. By the time I got here, I had forgotten quite a bit.

But, seriously, I am in a class where some people have no clue. Helen says I should request a higher placement, but I recall the famous words of President George W. Bush, "Be careful what you wish for." (Well, he should have said that).

I will take this beginners class in January and then move up in February. After that, summer is over here and the regular semester begins. I don´t know if I will be here long enough to take a regular semester course. I may have to hire a private tutor.

The class is suppossed to have 14 people in it. Ten showed up today. It is all in Spanish; there is no English spoken. But then, why would there be? We are not all North Americans. There are four North Americans, including Helen and me. The others are Guy, a "retired" lawyer from LA about our age who is soon to open a hotel in Equador; and Elizabeth Ann, (Elise) a young blond from Okahoma who prefers Texas steak and is craving some Tex-Mex right about now.

There are two other men: Jonah, a marketing director from Finland; and Owen, who is from Dublin and works on the Irish stock exchange. Both are in their 20s. There are two German women, Barbara, a film and TV producer, and Julie, a lawyer. Maria, a hi-tech worker, is from Switzerland, and Eva, and international studies student, is from Shanghi. Of all of us, the guy from Finland and I seem to have the strongest skills. But the Chinese girl is really smart.

Class meets Monday through Friday for three hours a day, for four weeks. I´ll keep you posted.

Buenas noches mis amigos, hasta mañana.

A good day all around (by Ken) p.s. I shaved

Right off, let´s get to the beard. I thought I´d go for that middle-aged-Porteño look.

Now, on to the day. It was a qualified, unqualified success. By that, I mean my standards of quality have been significantly lowered.

Helen and I started the day by taking the colectivo (public bus) to Palermo to pay our tuition at Universidad de Buenos Aires. (We begin classes tomorrow--look for a big post on that!). T prepare for bus, we studied quite a bit, did some dry runs, and then just went for it. Major props go out to my virtual (soon to be actual friend Alan Patrick. His blog can be found here.) Alan posted specific instructions on how to use the colectivo. We followed them to the letter and had a flawless trip.

We paid our bill at UBA, with a minimum of embarrassment, and took the colectivo home. At one point, Helen said, "Get ready, we get off here." To which I responed, "How do you know?"

"It just feels like it," she said. So she rang the buzzer for the driver to stop, and we got out. Avenida Junin--a direct hit. Bull´s Eye. High Fives (alto cincos) all around. The busses themselves are fodder for a future blog--believe me (or read Alan´s blog).

Next we had previously made arrangements to meet my FCC faculty colleague, Joanna Gannon´s, mother and sister for lunch at MALBA--the Museam of Latino Art Buenos Aires. We walked there and met them for a lovely almuerzo en al aire libre. We walked back and even found a shortcut throught the park near the cemetary.

Later, Helen began her PharmD classes at University of Denver, and we went to a Cyber Cafe to print. A bit of awkwardness--not too much--and we got that done and paided for. I must also add that the ATMs give 100 peso notes. When you pay $6 pesos for breakfast, nobody wants your $100 notes. So, today, Helen braved the bank and successfull broke the 100 into 20s and a 20 into $1 coins for the colectivo. Ther are no $1 bills here, only coins. We need to do that in the US. Also, no pennies. Everything is rounded to the $.05. If the US did it, we´d adjust in a week, believe me.

All-in-all, a great day. We are going to bed happy (still not sure about the shaving, though). Tomorrow, school starts.

Buenas noches y besos.

Shoeless Joe´s

The bar itself is in a beautiful old mansion. There are two section. Downstairs is the pub with the sports on TV. There is another entrance to get upstairs where there is music and table seating. It seems the expats gather downstairs for the sports TV and the Porteños prefer the upstairs for talking, and drinking, and eating.

It´s a 15-minute walk from my apartment. The beer is relatively cheap--$5 for a draft (called chopp), that´s about U$1.30. You can get a Big Ol´ American style hamburger for $15 (U$5).

An interesting feature is that ladies drink free almost all day and everyone gets free beer with lunch. So, my friends, do the math: a five dollar hamburder and free beer. You can´t get that at Burger King!

NFL in BA

I went out to an expat bar called Shoeless Joe´s Alamo Bar this evening to watch the Giants-Eagles game. I had beent here twice before and it was quite sedate.

But tonight, the place was full--mostly men, mostly Americans--all there to watch the NFL playoff game.

Helen wasn´t much interested in football and had been there with me before, and it´s just not her scene. "If I wanted to go to an American bar, I could have stayed at home," is what she said. Honestly, I can´t argue with that, but this is the playoffs. Anyway, I went without her and sat and watched the game. I got to tell you, it´s just not the same. I had a Quilmes chopp and was about to head out when a group of four sat next to me. Canadians. Patty and Kevin Kelly from Ontario with another couple--related I believe. Patty, the 70-year old wife of Kevin, told me how they had just got in this afternoon. They own a pub in a small town in Ontario. "Been all over the world because of that pub," she tells me. Germany to see the breweries, France and Italy to see the vinyards--the list went on. They don´t speak a word of Spanish and don´t seem to care. That´s not why they are here. Strictly tourists. Well, they got a large table that would accommodate them all and said goodbye.

la mejor parte del día (The best part of the day) by Ken

After a week here in Buenos Aires, there is one thing I already know I will miss: The café.

Just across the street from our apartment is a café where we go every morning for desayuno. The first day, we went in and just ordered a coffee and a tea. The waitress, Melissa, brought us the coffee, tea, a small plate of cookies, and two small glasses of agua con gas (soda water).

I notice we keep writing the word small. I must re-evaluate that. I do not think it is that things here are small, rather, things in the USA are big. Big cars, Big Macs, big houses, big people, big, big, big.

I am beginning to understand that these are normal sizes. They just look small to us because the USA is a super-sized country. Americans think cookies should be the size of dinner plates, the Porteños think a cookie is the size of a Kennedy half dollar.

OK, back to the café.

Every monring now, I walk to the Avenida Las Heras and buy my Buenos Aires Herald--the English language daily. I go to Balcarce (mi café). !Hola Ken! ¿Que tal? to which I reply, Bien, Melissa ¿Y Vos?

I think what I like most about this ritual is that I feel competent doing it. I understand the questions that I will be asked, the options I have, the responses that are expected of me. It is a nice break from the utter incompetence I am about to demonstrate throughout the balance of the day.

After abour 15 minutes, Helen joins me. We read the paper, study the map, plan the day. There is no hurry in the café. We can stay as long as we like. They do not expect us to keep ordering more, when they see we are done, they clear away the dishes, but it in not to hustle us out. They do not even bring the check until you ask. All this for about $10 (US$3.35). It is really very lovely. There is nothing like it back home, and I do not think there can ever be.

"Almost" Registering (and then actually registering) for classes (Ken)

Today, Helen and I took a taxi to el Laboratorio de Idiomas a de Universidad de Buenos Aires. We arrived an hour early for afternoon registration and placement testing.

It is an old building that was once obviously very beautiful. Sadly, it is in disrepair. Still, an incredible building.

We took lunch at the cafe across the street and returned just before 3:00. Stumbling our way throught the registration process, we completed our written placement exams and then had an informal interview. We were both placed in the 2nd level beginner class.

Testing completed, I asked la professora if we could pay by credit card. The web site, though helpful, was silent about payment (and ambiguous on many other points.) "Eso es una buena pregunta" dije la professora. It was, in fact, not a good question.

We went to the payment window where a scowling security guard was directing traffic. I told him that Helen and I were paying together, but he would have no part of that. I went to pay first and was told cash only-- "solomente effectivo." Not having brought $1400 pesos with us, we were told we could pay manaña.

We went back to tell la professora that we would have to come back tomorrow when she gestured to the other students taking placement exams and interviews and said, "Tommorow there may not be a place for you. There are many others."

We ran to the nearest ATM where I withdrew $700. I had been told that different banks, ATM, would allow different maximums. I previously had an ATM reject my card. Lukcily, this one worked. Now we only needed Helen to get $700 on her ATM card. Good news, the machine spit out $700 pesos. Cash in hand, we headed back.

Rushing back, we paid our bill and returned to registration with our reciepts.

The class was full.

Now, you have to understand the level of stress I am feeling at this point. My limited Spanish, the unfamiliar bank regulations, the cash only policy, the exam, the interview . . .

I knew this would be difficult. I wanted this to be difficult. But I had no idea exactly what it was I thought I knew and wanted. Sure, this is supposed to be a challenging, life changing experience, but this is 24-7 (well, 24-6, so far).

Now this is the odd part.

Another professora, one who seemed to be in charge, explained that this class was full but that we could take the 9:30 class in Palermo Soho. She said she would get us a refund and that we had to go to Palermo on Monday and pay. Now I am really confused. It was imperative that we pay cash-on-the-spot-today to take the class downtown, but they would just enroll us and give us 4 days to get the cash together to take the class in Palermo? AND, they already have our $1400.

By now she could tell that they screwed up and we were in way over our cultural heads. This is when she immediatly switches to perfect English and explains what has happened and is going to happen. We got our money back, we got in the class, we start next week. Two hours of stressfully trying to negotiate this in limited Spanish and she could have told us everything in English all along--they all could.

It´s different here--not bad, just different. To all of you who told me to "Be careful, once they find out you are an American they will all want to practice their English." ¡WRONG! Absolutely, beg-my-forgiveness-you-ignorant-fools WRONG.

Porteños are very proud of their language and culture--even if they can speak English, they prefer to speak Spanish. Yet, when they think you really need it, after they see you suffer, and try and fail, and try some more . . . they bail you out. You have to admire that.

So far, they are Buena Gente, Los amo.

The ying and yang of Ken and Helen (by Helen)

I just read Ken´s last blog, with often melancoly, lofty thoughts, and rhythmic phrases. OK, that is SO not me. I am here to tell you how the salad was served.
We made it thru a day at the mall. There wasn´t anything that we didn´t do. Sometimes we do the right things by accident. For example, all the bathrooms are on the top floors. So I found the ¨Toilet¨ sign which led me into this strange sort of area with 4 doors that led to god-knows-where. And, again, that deer- in- the- head- lights look because an old man told me, in spanish, which I still do not understand, to go up this long staircase into no-where land to the bathrooms. (if you cant climb stairs then you cant pee) Up I went, and he must have been keeping an eye on me b/c I reach the top, pause, carefully decide, and start for the men´s room. He hollers up the cavernous staircase and points in the other direction. I holler back ¨gracias¨ and make it to the correct side of the gender divide.
So, back to the salad. Lunch specials are common, which means that when you order meat, you also get something to go with it. Today, Ken got a salad with his meat. The salad was a large plate of cut up romaine with a few celery slices in it. No dressing. So, we looked around and found the equivalent of balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, and oil, from different tables. Voila! Salad dressing. No pepper. Remember, pepper is in the international section of the grocery store. That same grocery store section has, tobasco sauce and pringles, and gasp! , cheez in a spray can!
The service, by the way, has been excellent everywhere we have been.
Next time I will order what the woman next to us had - Something with legumbres. Or maybe I can get the meat with legumbres.
It was a great day and so far I like it here a lot.

At the end of the day . . . (Ken´s Entry)

I lay awake at night replaying the day. I think of the social situations--the mercado, the taxi, the portero-- and I think of how dreadfully inadequate I was.

I replay the dialogue. I remember what I said, what I said wrong, what I failed to say, what I could have said better.

And I usually consider myself a dismal failure.

Then, in the twilight of the night between waking, and sleeping, and dreaming, I remember my successes.

I actually did tell the taxi driver where I wanted to go.

I actually did tell the portero that the toilet was running and would not stop.

I actually did ask the sales woman if these shoes came in my size.

I have been here for five days. Right now, I am exhausted. I know I have increased my activity level 200% and decreased my calorie intake by half. Everyday is an adventure, a success, and a defeat. Actually, that is exactly why I came here.

I will be 50 in 25 days. I needed to do something special, something important, something REALLY HARD.

When I turned 40, my goal was to run a marathon. I did it; I have run 17 since. The 50th had to be bigger. (I can´t imagine what challenge I will make for myself at 60).

So here I am, absolutely stretching myself to the limits of abilities. (Really, very much like a marathon--only a brain marathon).

The picture? That´s the pizza we had on New Year´s day. Everything was closed, and that´s about all I could get us to eat. Then there is the bird across the street who sits on the window ledge and sings all day. Just thought you´d be interested

First trip to the mall (by Helen)

Ah, a trip to the mall. We needed to go to a Super Walmart type of store and everybody says go to Jumbo, so we went. Two big stores, Jumbo and Easy were the anchor stores and then there were lots of other shops. Very few clothes but lots of shoes. I still stand by my initial impression that things here are expensive. For example, we need more hangers. K-mart sells 10 plastic hangers for $1. The jumbo sells 4 hangers for 5.50 pesos ( remember to divide by 3 to get US dollars). A 3 drawer plastic set of drawers that is about $12 US was about 50 pesos. The grocery store part of Jumbo was great. There is an american section (like in the international section in Giant Eagle) that sells peanut butter, pancake syrup (small bottle for 22 pesos) and spices. Regular old black pepper is an international item. They dont use pepper. The restaurants have two little dispensers on the table. One is salt and the other matching container that should be pepper is toothpicks, but one should never actually pick their teeth because it is rude.

We just sort of watch other people to see what they do. For example, produce is weighed in the middle of the store, and stickered with the price. This looked like an important line so I just stood in it and handed over produce like everybody else did. Then at check out we stood in just any old line and the cashier asked us a question which of course we didnt understand, so we just stand there with the deer in the headlights look and a brittish woman came and saved us to say that this line is for delivery to your house. So, off we go to another line that looked promising. Then the cashier asked for identification - again, deer in the headlights. Then she asked us if we had a club card - again deer in the headlights. We were again saved by a lady behind us.

Then we get something to eat - avoiding McDonalds for some place that looked local. The waitress asked us if we wanted a menu - again deer in the headlights. While we are eating some little boy asked us if we were done so he could have the rest. I didn´t catch on to that, thinking he was begging, which is common, and I said no. I feel bad about that because actually I was finished. Like any 2 year old I can say No and I´m not afraid to use it.

We took a cab there and a cab back. We want to start using the bus, but are not quite ready. The first cab driver, Jose, was very friendly and knew quite a bit of english because he lived in Austrailia for 6 months. He loves the USA, but hates Bush. He did, however, love Clinton. If they know we´re American they want to talk politics.

Restaurants are somewhat challenging. Ken ordered a steak - and that is exactly what he got - a steak on a plate. No veggie or potato or garnish - just meat. No spices. And because it was the dinner hour we are charged 5 pesos just for being there. The place was nice and the waiter helpful. They know we are foreigners, so they don´t ask specific questions, such as what kind of beer. So far, it seems we look German, so Heineken is what they choose for us. No matter what they bring us, we eat it or drink it and are grateful.

It is HOT (by Helen)

This is only the first week of summer and it is HOOOOOOOOTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!! and humid and hot. Those of you who know me pretty well know that I rarely sweat, well right now it is literally pouring down and off of me. There is no air conditioning in this apt so we are now going out to sit in someplace - anyplace with air. They say February is really hot.

Feliz Año

Helen and I went to a lovely little gathering of expats and Porteños last night in Palermo. Earlier, I had been told that it was impossible to get a taxi on New Year´s Eve unless it was reserved in advance. Since I have no idea how to do that, we were determined to walk the two miles up Avenida Santa Fe from Recoleta to Palermo Viejo.

As we walked past el Hospital Alemania, a taxi pulled over and let out his fare. His "LIBRE" sign was on, so we hopped in. WOW, what an accent. I must have said "No entinedo" a dozen times. He was patient, repeated what he was trying to say many different ways until I understood that he was explaining why he was taking a non-traditional route to our destination.

He asked if we were German or French or Polish. I told him, "Soy de Los Estados Unidos." He insisted, however, that Helen had to be Eastern European. She is, in fact, of Hungarian descent. Anyway, he was careful to get us where we were going.

The party was a Casa de Deby. An expat from the Bay Area who has been in for two years. She ahs a large apartment that she uses as a "Bed and Breakfast for Tango Dancers." I met her over then Internet after reading her blog. She has an amazing view from her balcony where we all watched the fireworks.

I must explain to my American friends what is meant by fireworks (fuegos artificiales) here. I am not talking about your locally sponsored, 15-minute display with a grand finale. There are private (professional grade) fireworks that the Porteños shoot off from their balconies and roof tops all over the city. And it goes on all night--it slows down, but it does not stop. I heard them exploding until sunrise. It was amazing.

We left Casa de Deby at about 1:45 and began to walk to walk home. After about two blocks, I spotted another taxi, "LIBRE" glowing. We hopped in, I told him my intersection, and we were home in no time. Que Suerte! I could not believe our luck. I was giddy with triumph.

Although we were home by 2 am, there was no sleeping until 4 or 5 with all the local revalry. I was awake by 9:00 and it is now 11:00 and this place is a ghost town.

When Porteños say holiday--they MEAN holiday.

first impressions by Helen

The plane ride was, as I expected, long and horrible. If I slept a total of one of the 11 hours, and in pieces I may add, then I am probably overstating. But then everything went smooth as silk. Quick, efficient, polite and easy. Customs didn´´t (don´´t know why this spanish keyboard does a double apostrophe, but it just does) even look at my bag, just asked me where I was from, then told me in spanish to go thru, and I just stood there looking at him like a deer in the head lights, and so he waved me thru.

When I walk the street it feels just like New York, except that I am one of those foreigners carrying on a conversation in another language.

Our 2 bedroom apt is technically a 2 bedroom. The second bedroom room has this computer set up in. It is approx 8 x 10 with a small closet. No bed. Two bathrooms tho. One with a bidet and a toliet that sits pretty darn high up off the floor - my feet can dangle. The other potty is NOT for fat people - no room. Both of the bedrooms back up to a gorgeous, and very large terrace that wraps around in an L shape from the back of the apt to the front, with a plastic table and 8 chairs. The kitchen is a galley type, small, with a few cabinets, nice marble counter top, and then a living room with a 2.5 foot square 4 seater dining table, a love seat with two end tables and a coffee table and two chairs (like captains dining chairs for a dining room table). Again - reminds me of NY. We are on the 3rd floor so can take the steps. The elevator can squeeze in maybe 3 normal sized people.

Because there are 3 pesos to each 1 dollar, the prices are good for us, but quite expensive for the porteños. For example, we just ate a cute ¨diner¨ where we got a ham sandwich for 4.50 pesos. But you don´´t order tap water, you order a beverage. A bottle of water, or coke is also 4.50 pesos. The sandwich was good, but way small by US standards. Just one slice of ham in thin bread. The ice cream cones are what we would consider the kiddie cone. I digress, so a small sandwich and beverage is 9 pesos which is a lot for the locals.

One thing NOT like NY is all the dogs. Lots and lots of dogs - all with their boy parts still in tact and pooping just any old place they please with nobody walking behind them with a poopie scooper. Poop piles all over the street! And they fight and it doesn´´t seem to bother their owners.

The architecture is really interesting and pretty. Feels like what I imagine the french quarter looked like when I look out of my balcony. No screens are on the windows or sliding glass doors because there are no little flitty bugs like in Maryland. There are, however, mosquitos.

I just love how everybody sits outside and just nurses a cup of coffee or glass of wine.

Estamos aqui

It was an uneventful flight--even if it did take 10-and-a-half hours. Once we were here, we breezed through immigration (no one even raised an eyebrow that we were entering the courntry without return tickets). At customs, the man asked where I was from. When I told him ¨Los Estados Unidos" He said, "just put one bag on the belt." They only x-rayed one of my bags! When Helen came, he just waived her through.

My friend from the College, Joanna Gannon (de Bendini) had her sister ( who lives in BA) arrange for a remise (a private car service). Just outside customs, there was a completely pleasant man, Ernesto, holding a sign with my name on it. I told him I needed to make a call. He gave me his cell phone. I was told not to expect this. I had to call Josefina, the niece of Ana from whom we are renting the apartment. Luckily, Josefina speaks English a bit better than I speak Spanish. We arranged to meet at a cafe across from the apartment. Ernesto got us there with no problem.

We met Josefina. She showed us in. And now here we sit. The apartment is small by American standards but has a large courtyard. The "second bedroom" has no bed--just a computer desk. So we are in search of an air matress should any of you come to visit.

All-in-all, this has been flawless. Tomorrow is New Year´s Eve. I am beat. Check in tomorrow.

Besos,

Kensito y Eleana

Local News Article

My local paper did an article about my sabbatical. Here is the link

http://www.fredericknewspost.com/sections/news/display.htm?storyid=54772

Staff photo by Sam Yu Helen and Ken Kerr of Frederick have many books on Argentina and the Spanish language. They will come in handy as the Kerrs will soon spend six months in Argentina.

And here is the text:

Professor to learn Spanish in ArgentinaPublish Date: 12/12/06
By Clifford G. Cumber News-Post Staff

FREDERICK -- When Ken Kerr was 40, he made a list of things he wanted to do before he died.
He ran the marathon (17 of them, in fact); he got his doctorate (at age 46); he's in the process of writing a book.

He has yet to meet a sitting president, or get elected to political office. He doesn't own a racehorse, and has yet to build a house with his own hands.

Next month, when he turns 50, the Frederick Community College English professor can strike off two of the dozen or so items left on the list.

He will live for an extended time in another country -- he leaves for Argentina in 17 days. And he can say he's fluent in another language -- Spanish.

Mr. Kerr will spend six months on sabbatical from his FCC post with his wife, Helen, in Argentina, totally immersed in the culture and language of Buenos Aires. Mr. Kerr has never left the United States.

He spent 18 months in research and preparation for his time abroad. But the idea had its genesis before that.

"I noticed that we have a growing Latino population at the college, and even if somebody calls the college on the phone and doesn't speak English, there are only about five people on campus who can take the phone call," he said in an interview Monday.

So, Mr. Kerr pitched his idea to FCC. Fund the trip, and he'd use the sabbatical he earned after six years on staff to travel. The faculty will then have one more fluent Spanish speaker. They agreed.

He began looking for a country. Europe would be too cold this time of year, so he turned to South America. With Helen along, a small village with few amenities was out of the question. The place had to have a stable government and a safe city he could afford (he will continue to pay a mortgage on his home while away).

"I found Argentina," he said.

And in Argentina he found Buenos Aires, a city about the size of Chicago, with a cosmopolitan atmosphere, museums, libraries, opera and all the intellectual trappings.

But after a military government in the 1980s, the city has not been popular for tourists. And no tourists means very little accommodation for English speakers.

It was just the kind of total immersion Mr. Kerr was looking for. He found an apartment through the help of a former colleague.

"I have to learn Spanish to get by," he said.

Now he speaks more than enough of the language to get by.

"You could drop me in the middle of a Spanish-speaking country, and I could do more than survive, I could thrive."

But whereas now he can converse, by the time he comes back he hopes to be able to talk about ideas and what people think.

"For my own personal growth and understanding of the world, my challenge is to see what's it like to move to a place where you've never been, where you don't know the language well, you don't know the culture, you don't know the customs, and try and establish a life," he said.

He hopes the experience will change him, alter his world view.

"I hope to be more aware, more thoughtful, a more tolerant person who understands the world a little bit better, that I'm able to see myself and my country as somebody else might see me."

Getting Ready for Christmas

We leave for BsAs four days after Christmas, so the decorating is a bit sparce this year. Last night, Helen and I had our granduaghter, Leah, spend the night. She and Helen made paper-plate angels and we all posed for pictures in silly hats. And we hung the stockings by the chimney with care . . .

We won't see Leah for the 6 months we are in Argentina--or our dog, Jack. I amm a little worried about him. He is 13 and moving pretty slow. Our younger daughter, Katherine, will take care of him while we are away.

Jack is getting in the spirit

We always make Jack wear the reindeer antlers for a picture. You can see how much he loves being part of this tradition.