Santa Rosa hits

Every year, around the end of August and first week of September, Argentina experiences a large rainstorm. Several weeks of warm, sunny weather precede it, yet every porteño knows that soon, it will become cold again. Her name is Santa Rosa, and I hate her.

It is cold. It is very cold. No, it’s not like the Midwest in winter, but for a place that I assumed would be sunny and beautiful all year, it’s decently chilly, around 9 degrees. Oh, sorry, that’s about 48 degrees Fahrenheit for all you non-cultured Americans.

However, according to local legend, once her heavy rains, high winds, and dark days pass, she leaves months of glorious sunshine. She better.

Last Saturday I felt like an Argentine. I woke up late, went to a café to casually chat (and I swear I tried to do homework, Ma ir Tet) and later went to a late dinner. That evening, I went out to a boliche (club) until the early hours of the morning, 7:30am to be exact. The boliche was called Pacha, apparently a club chain in other major cities. I have never seen a club so massive in my entire life. It was awesome. There was a sea of people in a pit below the DJ table, dancing for hours and hours to trance music. There was VIP seating upstairs and also at the other end of the main floor. We decided to sit down in VIP and see if anybody would notice and kick us out. They did, and we were. Oops. Later we got into the VIP part, which really wasn’t that spectacular because it’s just more seating and had its own bar.

Needless to say, I was a bit tired the next morning, but I couldn’t miss our trip to the Feria de Mataderos. This fair occurs every Sunday, and it represents much of the “gaucho” or Argentine cowboy culture with folk dances and folk music. The word “mataderos” literally means slaughterhouses, which makes sense considering that was what gauchos did; they prepared meat. Fun fact: This area is also often called Nueva Chicago because of the cattle-killing history it shares with Chicago.

This fair is truly Argentine, and definitely a must-see in the city. Tons of stands are set up, selling empanadas, cheese, sausage, salami, and steak sandwiches. For some reason, I decided I needed to try everything. I had a sandwich called a vaciopan, which is a cut of Argentine flank steak, topped with an amazing sauce (olive oil, garlic, pepper, herbs) between two pieces of fresh bread. It was unbelievable. Later, we got empanadas that were freshly made AS we ordered them by an assembly line of women, sitting and forming delicious empanadas by hand. It was a dream come true. For dessert, we had a kabob of fruit that was dipped in a hot honey/sugar mixture that hardened over the fruit. I don’t remember what it was called, but it was heavenly (pictured).

After we feasted, we were advised to go check out the horse races. These horse races are actually an old gaucho sport called La Corrida del Sortijo, or Run of the Ring. Men on horses run full speed towards what looks like a goal post, of sorts, attempting to put a metal pin through a tiny ring hanging from the top of the post. It was so interesting to watch. After watching la Corrida, we meandered past the many venders, selling everything: mate cups, clothing, jewelry, shoes, home decorations, and tons of leather goods. It was a truly Argentine fair, which I loved, and they say that it is a pretty well-kept secret in the city. Come to think of it, I doubt there weren’t any other foreigners besides us.

Monday morning tango is by far my favorite class. We learn so much every week, and we are given lots of time to practice all the steps. The professors are wonderful, very patient and always willing to help. I’ve also mastered the bus system in that area and now don’t have to be a lazy American who takes a cab everywhere. Success. Also, I apologize in advance, but I feel like I’m in the movie Step Up, waking up early, taking the bus into the shady part of town to attend one of the country’s best dance schools in hopes of becoming the next TANGO STAR. Too much? Maybe. Still kinda great? I think so. Is it true that I’ve realized how embarrassing it is to be a sheltered American who thinks that figuring out a bus system is an achievement and who finds it interesting going to school in an area that’s a little more dicey than what I’m used to? Absolutely.

I felt the need to mingle with my fellow porteño classmates, so I decided to be social over our break time. I sat down with a bunch of the girls in the class, and I was relieved to find how warm and open they were with me, and how much more smoothly I was able to speak to them in Spanish when I was in a comfortable setting. They were all very sweet and eager to learn more about my life in the States. All around, a great Monday morning. Wow, how many of us have ever said that?

In the evening, I come home to find Jesus busy in the kitchen with another helper, shining her best silverware for some kind of party occurring that night. Another party? Shocker. Interestingly enough, this one was for her ex-husband. Strange, right? Apparently, here it’s very common to have good relations with your ex-spouse. Not for all, but for many. Which to me makes sense, considering this was a family event, and they have 4 children plus 11 grandchildren. The whole fam is pictured above. Jesus is on the left in the red shirt.

A few highlights:

-Dulce de leche ice cream + chocolate ice cream

-Later, the traditional Argentine dulce de leche cake (refer to picture). It’s even better than it sounds.

-Watching all the moms (and children alike, but the moms were more entertaining) rock out to reggaeton hits like, “Abusadora,” but also other artists like Mika (how random?), and the Black Eyed Peas. Everybody here LOVES the Peas.

-Being called out of my room to read the instructions written in English for a breathalyzer that was presented as a gift to the birthday boy. Once I explained how it worked, everybody seated around the dining room table proceeded to test each other and cry of laughter as they tried to drink more and more to hit the red light, which means “high intoxication.” Jesus hit yellow. Oh boy.

-Discussing golf with one of the son-in-laws. He hates putting, too. I made a friend.

Tuesday was rather uneventful, and with Santa Rosa starting to kick in, everything was pretty gloomy. My lack of sleep also caught up to me and I started to get a sore throat. Wednesday wasn’t too much better, in fact, it was probably worse. I spent that evening curled up in bed, drinking tea and watching hours of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.”

Having slept 12 full hours, Thursday I woke up feeling like a new person. Santa Rosa was in full force though, with constant rain all day. I had to go to a government office to get some kind of criminal clearance certificate, fingerprints and all. It reminded me of the DMV. Just as miserable, and with just as many people waiting. A warm, fuzzy feeling came over me as I scanned the room, watching all the people looking like they hate life. Ah, a little piece of home. Although, unlike the DMV, here they did play Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie,” which helped a little. Not really, but a valiant effort on their part.

Sidenote:

I can’t believe I’ve forgotten to mention the gym scene around here…First of all, everyone here loves to work out, even if you’re 80 years old. Women don’t wear shorts. They wear long pants or skirts (?). Every guy tries to one-up the guy next to him. Many talk to themselves in the mirror as they lift weights. Some work out in polos. Others work out in jorts…I’ve seen it. Others wear dress pants. To put it simply, they work out in anything but appropriate gym clothes. The gym probably has one the highest percentages of individuals with some form of plastic surgery in a single location. It is one of my favorite new places for people watching. The class instructors here are fantastic. My newest friends are Jorge and Daniel. They love having Americans in their classes and try to help us out by attempting to speak English, though we repeatedly assure them that we understand everything they’re saying. Seems like we’re doing well, because last time Jorge gave us all fist bumps after class. Win.