This is my last day in Montevideo and I feel very emotional about it. First I need to tell you what I will not miss: I will not miss the shrill whistle that bus drivers share with each other when they pass on crowded streets. I will not miss the lack of diversity—there are only white people walking the streets because sun tans don’t count. I will not miss the fact that most people, truly, do not want touristas here. I have spent some time in conversation with various people about this and I’ve been told that this whole idea of tourism is new idea—there is some kind of slogan about it—but for the most part people haven’t dealt with ‘other’s except Argentinians or Brazilians, and even then, they don’t particularly want them here either. It’s not that Montevideans are rude—far from it. But they are distant, not welcoming, not even acknowledging. Now, if you are in a purposeful relationship of course you will get air kissed on the right side. And in the places that I have frequented I have had conversations and such. But there has also been suspicion—why exactly am I here. It’s not bad…it’s just a thing I won’t miss because of course I am a tourista. And, I can finally say because it appears as if my mother is never going to read this blog, I am definitely glad that this is my last night in my apartment.
Let me tell you about that briefly. I have never slept in a made bed here. The sheets that were left me were malodorous and more. I had packed one sheet (with a high thread count!) in case I got to a hotel where the sheets were mostly polyester and I know how that sounds but it is a good thing that I did. So, every night I sleep wrapped in this sheet…on top of a towel, one of the towels I bought, this one for the sole purpose of lying under my one sheet. Of course I have my princess pillow and two pillow cases….one for my pillow, and another for my little blanket case that I’ve stuff with clothes to serve as another pillow. The bed, by the by, has its foam coming out of the end which tells you something about its comfort level. I have a bedside lamp that I’ve had to jack up on a turned over plate to reach the plug which is way atop the wall. I have the rabbit ear TV with an antennae that has been broken off halfway (the other is whole). The full size refrigerator in the picture of the apartment turns out to be a small dorm size one which is fine, but according to the landlord I should not expect the freezer to work because it is not a freezer (even though it is full of frost); instead it is only meant to keep things frozen for an hour or two.
All that is fine. The phone in the pictures is not a phone…but a way to buzz people in from downstairs. I can live with that too. But the thing that really started to make me not tranquilo is the airconditioner. I’m not using it now because it is much cooler but at first it was in the high 80s with comparable humidity. And, I showed a picture of what people do with the water runoff. I had a 10 liter jug on the balcony that the landlord explained should be emptied when full. Fine. First day I awoke and the floor was flooded, the curtains wet, everything that the water reached leached. I thougth perhaps I’d forgotten to empty the jug. It was full, so I figured emptying it, turning on the air even later, and I’d be fine. Nope. Flood. Some more of that and I wrote the landlord who told me it was the ‘humility’. Condensed version, Martin from the Academia came over, took the hose out of the container, and now the balcony floods. I was told not to do that because then the water would drip onto the floors below, but hey.
I’ve stupidly gotten very lost several times, comically. I had a day full of getting lost earlier in the week when I assumed that the bus to the Shopping would stop there (I guess I was supposed to be looking out the window for the sign), and then the conductor (i.e. the dude who takes the money as opposed to driving the omnibus) realized I was the only person on the bus when it stopped for break at the Rambla and asked me what the *LKO)() and I told him I was going to the Shopping. He told me no, no, no it was very far back. So I started to walk. I saw a sign that said 500 somethings to the Shopping and I assumed it meant in that direction. But after walking about half a mile and onto the Rambla Armenia (which off my map!) I realized I needed to head north. I did get some beautiful pictures of the marina, however. I found a mujre who looked nice and spoke slowly so she’d reciprocate and she gave me directions that I actually understood and found the Shopping. It was a huge letdown, but it was the first Shopping in Montevideo and so worth a look in that regard. I had the worst meal I’ve had in MVD but it was free Internet, and then I *thoguth* I left by the same exit and thus headed in the right direction. But after I ended up at the zoo & planetarium instead of the Rambla, and utter darkness because nothing was open there at, oh, 11:00 at night, I stood at a bus stop even thought I didn’t recognize any of the routes. Eventually one came by that said Ciudad Viejo (old city) one of my two landmarks, the other being the Rambla. I took the omnibus until I got to a street I recognized---the biggie Av 18 de Julio and got off. Again in darkness, stupidly, and even more so, without any small pesos to take a bus back to my apartment. I only had 200s and 50 is the largest acceptable note. So I wandered down the street—the business section that I was in was understandable dark—until I found a TaTas with the sort of people who would be shopping at that hour, and bought a water. The woman was not happy with me because she wanted a .50 peso coin. Now to begin with, what can that be worth when 20 pesos is worth about 80cents. Anyway, I had my money and waited about 45 minutes for a bus. I counted out my pesos in the dark, but apparently incorrectly because when I handed them to the driver and went to sit down he called me back. He kept telling me I owed him more money, and I asked him, I thought, how much, until. I finally decided to count: 1 peso, 2 pesos, 3 pesos, 4 pesos…and that was the magic number (I think I gave him 1 peso coins instead of 2 peso coins in my dark count). But at least I was on a known bus on a known route and I got home after midnight. I told one f the English speaking administrators the story the next day and her assistant said==I didn’t think I needed to tell you where to get off, just the bus!==and the visiting owner of the school said, but she got lost for three days walking to the Radisson (which is three blocks away I now know) and Kristin said, oh, well had I known that….and then Soledad called me up to class and made me tell the story again in Spanish which of course took three times as long. It made everyone laugh. I guess it is funny that I’m directionally challenged, but apparently it is hilarious. People think that if I can get to Uruguay….which of course is ludicrous since all I need to do is get on the right plane! (I didn’t tell them I almost didn’t find my gate in Panama City because not speaking Spanish and not understanding what people were telling me I ended up in the wrong wing!!!)
So, today I received a little certificate for completing 71 hours of private classes more or less since I can’t seem to get over begin late.
That the 80s are huge: Tres Novias de Travolta is a musical at one of the theaters…meaning three girlfriends of….And just as I was passing the theater today and remembering to write that down the bus driver’s radio was playing Boy George Karma Kameleon., Huge steel girders are going up because the new president gets inaugurated on March 1st, but those announcements compete with that Guns & Roses concert also coming in March.,
How can I not miss a place like this!!!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Finally the everyday person
This picture shows what to my clumsy sense seems very difficult: tucking the thermos, cupping the container with metal straw, and just going about your business. You can also see one of the people trying to hand the man some kind of advertisement. I wonder if she's one of the leftover Mooneys, something I haven't written about but might later.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Okay, this is typical of what the sidewalk looks like between my apartemente and the parada. I admit that I am a klutz so I have to look down regularly so that I don't fall on my face. One day I decided to try my version of heels (very small, maybe 1.5 inches) in case I have to wear them in BA. I kept stepping into the scores on the pavers and I guess that anyone who saw me walking that day would think I was a kid wearing my mother's shoes.
This photo shows you a few things I've mentioned. You can see the old VW on the left. This is one of the jillions Plazas, only it is a Plazuela because it is very small. Practically the only thing there is room for is Winston (facing the Rambla) and maybe three people. And it demonstrates the fashion of writing something, anything, on every available surface. I took this the same day that I got lost and finally found my reference point. I will be passing Winston again because I want to walk up to the other mall (they are called 'shopping' not malls) because it is supposed to be for younger people and I need to discover what that means.
air conditioning runoff
So, water leaks out of air conditioners (does it do this back home? am I that oblivious) and it either drips onto the street (and everyone's head) or people take long hoses and collect the runoff in a jug. There was a 10 liter jug on my balcony to serve that purpose. I would run the air conditioner only at night--maybe 6 or 7 hours--and the jug would fill up and then the water would come through the air conditioner and drip onto my floor and I would wake up to a flood--the bottom of my curtains would be wet, the puddle would extend about three feet into the room, under the bed, and it was my one freakout of the trip. Martin, from the Academia, came over and took the tubing out of the jug and told me to just let the water flood the balcony and ever since my floors have been dry. Previously, my landlord told me it was impossible that so much water could be generated in one night, but I documented the morning water with photos. He said that soon "the humility' would be gone and I would not have any more floods. I'm on floor 10, which is 11 by our standards, and so far no one has complained, at least not to me.
Tambien, I took this picture during the only walk I've taken without mi mapa. My point of reference is always the Rambla, and I was certain that I was headed toward it but instead got lost for about a half hour in a warren of streets that looked much like this one. The reason I took this picture is that the people on bicycles are policia and they are waiting for the gate (the garage door thing) to open. The space that they will be entering is quite small so I don't know why they want to go in except perhaps to store their bicycles. I tried to get closer, but again I feel awkward about taking pictures of non-touristy things. The car is typical off the main drag. It appears that people keep them as long as they run. Oh! There is a funny television ad about a guy who is trying to pick up a woman but she spurns him...until he uses the advertised product to shine the surface of his car. I guess a shiny car is an aphrodisiac.
Close enough...
...I found a new place to take le omnibus home and because so many more buses pass by the parado, many people who I have never seen before are waiting. I was trying to get close to la policia but she kept looking over at me since I probably looked suspicious. What amazed me was that her gun was so accessible. It's hard to see in this picture, but it is just hanging there in its holster on the right. She had a large black baton on the left. I do not think she was on duty, although she was wearing her beret. If she was on duty, she was not paying attention to the street, but listening to her MP3 instead.
My MVD fashion buy
I bought this shirt at a shop down the Blvd. instead of a tee-shirt that says Uruguay. I see women wearing things like this all the time where bras or whatever show (I also read that it is a trend in Hollywood to show your underwear so perhaps it is fashion forward). Here you can see me with my new purchase--it is long and almost reaches my knees--but I am wearing a sports bra. I haven't been able to wear it with something dainty showing. The color also is representative of what I see around town--not deep, and an uncommon (for us) shade. Still, when it is 80+ degrees and 80+% humidity, it is the best thing I have to wear!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Mid February heat wave
For days I’ve intended to write as soon as I finish my debedres (homework). The truth is, mi profesora Soledad, gives me at least six hours of work to do each night. With three hours of class, one hour each way of commuting, an hour or so of walking, maybe a few hours at a restaurant if I can wait that late to eat and I have no ability to extract words from my puny brain (while you can eat at a confiteria anytime between opening and closing, most restaurantes close between lunch and supper (if they serve lunch at all) and supper doesn’t begin until 8 at the earliest). I like the late start to supper but if I don’t have time for lunch I’m often hungry after class. A few restaurantes have reduced menus until supper begins—this week I was lucky to grab a pizza in my neighborhood at around 7 p.m. Pizza in most places is considered a snack because the main draw besides Italian is grilled meat of any imaginable variety, many of which I have to look up in my dictionary. At this place, the pizza varieties were unusual, for example, spinach and sliced hard boiled eggs (which show up in almost everything), and roquefort and mushroom (which I had and enjoyed). They are shaped as rectangles and cut into little squares. Pizza is a good option for me as una vegetariano since I can trust that there will not be any hidden meat (unless it comes in the pizza sauce but that’s usually stated). The first week I was here, before I knew better, I said ‘yes’ to ravioli with tomato sauce not knowing that it would be stuffed with jamon. I’m buying and ordering fewer unexpected things (like a pound of ground coffee with sugar—who reads a coffee bag?) so I think that I’m making progress.
Which leads to what am I doing here, as some of you have asked me. The short answer is that I am studying Spanish intensively, thus the three hours of private lessons and six hours of homework five days of the week (and twelve hours of homework on the weekend). I came here without speaking any Spanish (except for words like mucho gracias and tequila and no hablo español) and I’m happy to report that I ‘graduated’ nevel I (I don’t know—that’s what it says on my book) this week and am now moving rapidly through nevel II. And why am I studying Spanish? That’s the long answer that I will only touch on now. Plan A is that I’m leaving Montevideo on February 26th for Buenos Aires where I will begin volunteering on March 1st. I am going to have to get back to that part of my trip later because this week I’ve also considered Plans B, C, & D and there are convincing arguments for each. But that at least provides you with an idea of why I’m in South America.
There are a few more things that stand out about Montevideo that I want to describe because even now I’m getting used to them and I might forget later on.
The first thing is the random appearance of men with guns. I do not know much about guns but these are always long so they are not pistols, and the size helps provide a threatening visual image. Generally the men are in pairs, but once I did see a solitary man. They are not policia, who wear labeled uniforms, and who never seem to be carrying visible guns. Nor do they have a unified uniform—I mean any given pair matches, but one pair doesn’t match another necessarily. The first time I saw an armed pair, they were in front of a travel agency. Actually I have seen some pair there three times. I concluded that it might have to do with the fact that Montevideo is a cash based society and the travel agency probably brings in many pesos and dollars (most transactions can be completed with dollars and ATMs usually give you the choice of pesos or dollars). So that made sense until I saw a solitary armed man standing over a huge hole in the road next to a curved sidewalk. He was dressed in an ochre uniform with a black sash and beret and he had his gun pointed toward the ground. I subsequently returned to the spot where I’d seen him from the bus, and discovered that it is next to a bank. I don’t know—maybe the fear was that someone would jump in and tunnel through to the bank or that a tunnel was being closed up? I keep forgetting to ask about the men with guns because so many other things happen that are more curious. Several times I’ve tried to take a picture of an armed man, but I get funny looks.
Like yesterday—I left class and started my walk. I either walk a mile or so and then catch the bus, or get off a mile early, or get off a mile past my stop or some combination thereof. I’m discovering all sorts of little neighborhoods and corner markets this way plus physically moving, reading new signs, and taking pictures. Yesterday I wanted to catch the bus at the stop closest to the Academia because it was very, very hot and I figured a walk along the rambla would make the most sense. Only something was very wrong. The Plaza Independencia had been barricaded, and no could travel around it. I thought it must be an impending parade but that was questionable since the school usually plans outings for Carnaval activities. Also, I saw a few people come out of buildings to cars that were parked within the barricades and look at them with confusion. I walked through the Plaza to get to the next block and saw two young guys, maybe twins, with shaggy blond hair, bare chested, wearing multi-colored hula skirts, walking up to people asking a question, having a finger pointed ostensibly to direct them, and so on. That added to my hypothesis that some kind of parade was imminent on Av. 18 de Julio. That’s where one of the big parades had been held earlier in the month, so really it was a safe assumption for me to make. But then I arrived to San Jose, the next street over, where people lined the street in a chaotic mess. It appears that I was not the only one who did not know about the parade. Unless your bus route happened to be along that street, you didn’t know where to stand, hoping that your bus would eventually make its way along this most logical, parallel street. So lots of people were standing in the street, asking each other where to go. Buses from Av. 18 de Julio (I don’t know—it’s always written that way) drove down the street and buzzed on by, or stopped every 50 yards or so when a person stood in the street, arms a-waving. I asked a woman if she knew if the 14 or 104 was going to come down this street and she told me that no, those buses stopped on Av. 18 de Julio. Not new information and in fact irrelevant. So. I just started to walk, hoping to arrive at a corner at the same time as one of those buses, or a 128 or D1 as well. The 14 came first and I basically stepped in front of it so it would stop (along with a few other people…I’m not that brave in traffic). People were squashed into what is usually a happily full bus and it was so, so, so hot that you could smell the confusion. I had to get off as soon as I recognized a landmark so ended up about two miles out, but it was amazing how much the confusion jostled people and how uncomfortable it was to be part of it. I am in a perpetual state of confusion, so it was not a new feeling for me…but the mass confusion was something else. To cap this story: when I saw the administrator at school the next day, a woman born and bred in Montevideo, she told me that this most amazing thing had happened—a parade she did not know about interrupted her commute home. Surprises for everyone.
But I love my walks. I’ve spoken about the small markets, but there are even smaller shops and I don’t quite understand who the shopkeepers are selling to. I mean a dress shop with maybe 17 dresses of different styles, but only the one size hanging. If you go into a shop and you ‘buy by size’ it means you buy whatever size is out there. So in these small dress shops you might have 3 size 0s, 4 size 1s, 5 size 2s, 4 size 3s and that’s it. But all different styles. Much of what is out in women’s clothing now is 100% cotton, made in Peru or Brasil. (Uruguay has fine leather and wool but not cotton, it appear.) I’ve seen dress shops, shoe shops, purse shops, anything shops with tiny selections like that. Skinny, shallow, the size of my home office. And lots of the shops have a banner with liquidacion written on it to signify an end-of-the-summer sale. Other shops have odd combinations of things for sale. There is one on the Av. that seems to sell stoves and motorbikes, or maybe motorcycles. The door to it opens like a garage, and the two sides are lined with stoves, all white, and there is a large middle section, flanked by walking aisles, with brightly colored motor-things. That’s it—white stoves and multi-colored motorbikes. I’ll walk by it and take a picture before I leave.
I’ve recently given out some pesos to singers on the bus. Today a man played the guitar and sang a beautiful ballad with a strong bass. The other day someone with one of those contraptions that lets you play the harmonica and the guitar at the same time sang ‘Blowing in the Wind’ with a lovely Spanish accent that made many of the words indistinguishable. I haven’t heard any women yet. But I have discovered another way some people collect pesos—parking assistance. Sometimes a person will stand in a parking spot and then wave a driver in and get a handout. The other night I saw someone helping a driver back out of a diagonal spot and get something in exchange. I’m still very troubled by the men, and some very young boys, digging through the dumpsters for what can be salvaged. But I suspect that they make more money over the recyclables that are thrown away. I know that it will be even more difficult when I get to BA where there is greater economic disparity.
There really is so much more of importance to tell, but there is one strange thing that I happened to see again last night so it gets earlier billing. Sometimes when I am doing my homework, I turn on the television that, with rabbit ears, only gets 3.5 local channels (I don’t think I’ve had rabbit ears since I lived in Green Bay!). Since I’m working late at night, I often get the not-for-prime-time programs. On Friday nights there is a program that I have to explain visually. The top left quarter plays music videos like the old MTV, the bottom left quarter has advertisements that last for about 30 seconds each, mostly about adult entertainment, other times about vacation spots or hotels, or shops but probably related to risqué endeavors. Then on the right is a rolling banner with short personal ads—probably the length of a tweat. And while the personal ads are rolling—actually the whole time—there are two people talking, sometimes about the ads, sometimes about events of the day, sometimes even singing along with the refrain of the music video. That’s what caught my attention in the first place—a woman interrupting her discussion with her partner to sing out muy linda since I knew what the words meant. And then I realized that I could understand the personals. Hmmm. I don’t know what that says about the people writing them since I haven’t been at this Spanish thing all that long.
I thought that would be my last paragraph, but I want to write about the other students. Most of us are taking private classes, half of us are from the U.S., and about two-thirds of the students are about twenty or more years older than I am. I believe that I am the only person who came here without either Spanish or purpose (some people are studying at the Universidad and brushing up on their language skills or have come to retire). This very nice man who wears a USC cap every day had on a 1999 UW Rose Bowl sweatshirt one day so I asked him if he was an alum. He said no, but that he’d grown up in Wisconsin. I asked where, and he said I would never have heard of it. In Uruguay, even Wisconsin was an unknown. People want you to say New York or Los Angeles or Chicago. So he was positive. Ha! He said Neenah and I said Menasha, just like that, and told him about living in Green Bay to his raised eyebrows and now he is my one daily English fix, even though we are not ‘allowed’ to speak English while at school.
Well, I’d better start my essay since they take me a long time. I keep needing to use tenses that I haven’t learned and it takes a lot of brain cells to twist a sentence into present or future perfect or preterite perfect simple, or use a gerund when you want a subjunctive or conditional. (So I’m only writing that last sentence to let you know that while there are various types of profesoros at the Academia, I’ve been put in with the LINGUISTS not the straight up language or literature teachers, and this is how I have to learn to read and write). Anyway, at least my linguist has a sense of humor. Last night I had to write: Yo soy una princesa porque… (I am a princess because….). Mi profesora liked it so much that she wants me to type it (it is handwritten) so that she can keep a copy for her files. Tonight I will write Fui a Grecia y…Since the verb construction of the pretérito perfecto simple for to be and to go is the same, I’m told that I need to consider the context. Honestly! Well we’ll see if it works when I get to BA.
Oh! In my notes about what I wanted to record I wrote: …that attractive women do not seem to mind having little bellies, meaning that washboard abs are not required to be considered beautiful AND that it is really endearing to see EVERYONE air kiss, men to women, women to women, men to men. While I’ve been air kissed (right side only remember) by strangers, it seems obligatory if I see someone a second time or more, if I am meeting someone who knows someone I know, or as I make the rounds, taking leave for the day. And that the predominate brands of cars seem to be: Renaults, Peugots, and the old-fashioned VW Bug.
I will post some more pictures when I get to a real Internet connection again. I have some good ones.
Chau.
Which leads to what am I doing here, as some of you have asked me. The short answer is that I am studying Spanish intensively, thus the three hours of private lessons and six hours of homework five days of the week (and twelve hours of homework on the weekend). I came here without speaking any Spanish (except for words like mucho gracias and tequila and no hablo español) and I’m happy to report that I ‘graduated’ nevel I (I don’t know—that’s what it says on my book) this week and am now moving rapidly through nevel II. And why am I studying Spanish? That’s the long answer that I will only touch on now. Plan A is that I’m leaving Montevideo on February 26th for Buenos Aires where I will begin volunteering on March 1st. I am going to have to get back to that part of my trip later because this week I’ve also considered Plans B, C, & D and there are convincing arguments for each. But that at least provides you with an idea of why I’m in South America.
There are a few more things that stand out about Montevideo that I want to describe because even now I’m getting used to them and I might forget later on.
The first thing is the random appearance of men with guns. I do not know much about guns but these are always long so they are not pistols, and the size helps provide a threatening visual image. Generally the men are in pairs, but once I did see a solitary man. They are not policia, who wear labeled uniforms, and who never seem to be carrying visible guns. Nor do they have a unified uniform—I mean any given pair matches, but one pair doesn’t match another necessarily. The first time I saw an armed pair, they were in front of a travel agency. Actually I have seen some pair there three times. I concluded that it might have to do with the fact that Montevideo is a cash based society and the travel agency probably brings in many pesos and dollars (most transactions can be completed with dollars and ATMs usually give you the choice of pesos or dollars). So that made sense until I saw a solitary armed man standing over a huge hole in the road next to a curved sidewalk. He was dressed in an ochre uniform with a black sash and beret and he had his gun pointed toward the ground. I subsequently returned to the spot where I’d seen him from the bus, and discovered that it is next to a bank. I don’t know—maybe the fear was that someone would jump in and tunnel through to the bank or that a tunnel was being closed up? I keep forgetting to ask about the men with guns because so many other things happen that are more curious. Several times I’ve tried to take a picture of an armed man, but I get funny looks.
Like yesterday—I left class and started my walk. I either walk a mile or so and then catch the bus, or get off a mile early, or get off a mile past my stop or some combination thereof. I’m discovering all sorts of little neighborhoods and corner markets this way plus physically moving, reading new signs, and taking pictures. Yesterday I wanted to catch the bus at the stop closest to the Academia because it was very, very hot and I figured a walk along the rambla would make the most sense. Only something was very wrong. The Plaza Independencia had been barricaded, and no could travel around it. I thought it must be an impending parade but that was questionable since the school usually plans outings for Carnaval activities. Also, I saw a few people come out of buildings to cars that were parked within the barricades and look at them with confusion. I walked through the Plaza to get to the next block and saw two young guys, maybe twins, with shaggy blond hair, bare chested, wearing multi-colored hula skirts, walking up to people asking a question, having a finger pointed ostensibly to direct them, and so on. That added to my hypothesis that some kind of parade was imminent on Av. 18 de Julio. That’s where one of the big parades had been held earlier in the month, so really it was a safe assumption for me to make. But then I arrived to San Jose, the next street over, where people lined the street in a chaotic mess. It appears that I was not the only one who did not know about the parade. Unless your bus route happened to be along that street, you didn’t know where to stand, hoping that your bus would eventually make its way along this most logical, parallel street. So lots of people were standing in the street, asking each other where to go. Buses from Av. 18 de Julio (I don’t know—it’s always written that way) drove down the street and buzzed on by, or stopped every 50 yards or so when a person stood in the street, arms a-waving. I asked a woman if she knew if the 14 or 104 was going to come down this street and she told me that no, those buses stopped on Av. 18 de Julio. Not new information and in fact irrelevant. So. I just started to walk, hoping to arrive at a corner at the same time as one of those buses, or a 128 or D1 as well. The 14 came first and I basically stepped in front of it so it would stop (along with a few other people…I’m not that brave in traffic). People were squashed into what is usually a happily full bus and it was so, so, so hot that you could smell the confusion. I had to get off as soon as I recognized a landmark so ended up about two miles out, but it was amazing how much the confusion jostled people and how uncomfortable it was to be part of it. I am in a perpetual state of confusion, so it was not a new feeling for me…but the mass confusion was something else. To cap this story: when I saw the administrator at school the next day, a woman born and bred in Montevideo, she told me that this most amazing thing had happened—a parade she did not know about interrupted her commute home. Surprises for everyone.
But I love my walks. I’ve spoken about the small markets, but there are even smaller shops and I don’t quite understand who the shopkeepers are selling to. I mean a dress shop with maybe 17 dresses of different styles, but only the one size hanging. If you go into a shop and you ‘buy by size’ it means you buy whatever size is out there. So in these small dress shops you might have 3 size 0s, 4 size 1s, 5 size 2s, 4 size 3s and that’s it. But all different styles. Much of what is out in women’s clothing now is 100% cotton, made in Peru or Brasil. (Uruguay has fine leather and wool but not cotton, it appear.) I’ve seen dress shops, shoe shops, purse shops, anything shops with tiny selections like that. Skinny, shallow, the size of my home office. And lots of the shops have a banner with liquidacion written on it to signify an end-of-the-summer sale. Other shops have odd combinations of things for sale. There is one on the Av. that seems to sell stoves and motorbikes, or maybe motorcycles. The door to it opens like a garage, and the two sides are lined with stoves, all white, and there is a large middle section, flanked by walking aisles, with brightly colored motor-things. That’s it—white stoves and multi-colored motorbikes. I’ll walk by it and take a picture before I leave.
I’ve recently given out some pesos to singers on the bus. Today a man played the guitar and sang a beautiful ballad with a strong bass. The other day someone with one of those contraptions that lets you play the harmonica and the guitar at the same time sang ‘Blowing in the Wind’ with a lovely Spanish accent that made many of the words indistinguishable. I haven’t heard any women yet. But I have discovered another way some people collect pesos—parking assistance. Sometimes a person will stand in a parking spot and then wave a driver in and get a handout. The other night I saw someone helping a driver back out of a diagonal spot and get something in exchange. I’m still very troubled by the men, and some very young boys, digging through the dumpsters for what can be salvaged. But I suspect that they make more money over the recyclables that are thrown away. I know that it will be even more difficult when I get to BA where there is greater economic disparity.
There really is so much more of importance to tell, but there is one strange thing that I happened to see again last night so it gets earlier billing. Sometimes when I am doing my homework, I turn on the television that, with rabbit ears, only gets 3.5 local channels (I don’t think I’ve had rabbit ears since I lived in Green Bay!). Since I’m working late at night, I often get the not-for-prime-time programs. On Friday nights there is a program that I have to explain visually. The top left quarter plays music videos like the old MTV, the bottom left quarter has advertisements that last for about 30 seconds each, mostly about adult entertainment, other times about vacation spots or hotels, or shops but probably related to risqué endeavors. Then on the right is a rolling banner with short personal ads—probably the length of a tweat. And while the personal ads are rolling—actually the whole time—there are two people talking, sometimes about the ads, sometimes about events of the day, sometimes even singing along with the refrain of the music video. That’s what caught my attention in the first place—a woman interrupting her discussion with her partner to sing out muy linda since I knew what the words meant. And then I realized that I could understand the personals. Hmmm. I don’t know what that says about the people writing them since I haven’t been at this Spanish thing all that long.
I thought that would be my last paragraph, but I want to write about the other students. Most of us are taking private classes, half of us are from the U.S., and about two-thirds of the students are about twenty or more years older than I am. I believe that I am the only person who came here without either Spanish or purpose (some people are studying at the Universidad and brushing up on their language skills or have come to retire). This very nice man who wears a USC cap every day had on a 1999 UW Rose Bowl sweatshirt one day so I asked him if he was an alum. He said no, but that he’d grown up in Wisconsin. I asked where, and he said I would never have heard of it. In Uruguay, even Wisconsin was an unknown. People want you to say New York or Los Angeles or Chicago. So he was positive. Ha! He said Neenah and I said Menasha, just like that, and told him about living in Green Bay to his raised eyebrows and now he is my one daily English fix, even though we are not ‘allowed’ to speak English while at school.
Well, I’d better start my essay since they take me a long time. I keep needing to use tenses that I haven’t learned and it takes a lot of brain cells to twist a sentence into present or future perfect or preterite perfect simple, or use a gerund when you want a subjunctive or conditional. (So I’m only writing that last sentence to let you know that while there are various types of profesoros at the Academia, I’ve been put in with the LINGUISTS not the straight up language or literature teachers, and this is how I have to learn to read and write). Anyway, at least my linguist has a sense of humor. Last night I had to write: Yo soy una princesa porque… (I am a princess because….). Mi profesora liked it so much that she wants me to type it (it is handwritten) so that she can keep a copy for her files. Tonight I will write Fui a Grecia y…Since the verb construction of the pretérito perfecto simple for to be and to go is the same, I’m told that I need to consider the context. Honestly! Well we’ll see if it works when I get to BA.
Oh! In my notes about what I wanted to record I wrote: …that attractive women do not seem to mind having little bellies, meaning that washboard abs are not required to be considered beautiful AND that it is really endearing to see EVERYONE air kiss, men to women, women to women, men to men. While I’ve been air kissed (right side only remember) by strangers, it seems obligatory if I see someone a second time or more, if I am meeting someone who knows someone I know, or as I make the rounds, taking leave for the day. And that the predominate brands of cars seem to be: Renaults, Peugots, and the old-fashioned VW Bug.
I will post some more pictures when I get to a real Internet connection again. I have some good ones.
Chau.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Impressions: some photos
I put up a series of photos, some with, some without captions. I did it efficiently (at school where I do not have to pay per kb) but that means that there is no story to connect them. I will go back in and write a bit about each one tomorrow. Also, I have discovered that you must click on 'older posts' to see them all since there are two screens worth. Chau!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
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