Random Discoveries!

Nytimes.com has a lot of goodies that the paper copy of the Times can't provide: old but still relevant articles and studies, definitions of key terms, and columnists' blogs. Being a very UNbusy exchange student, I have decided that I would spend much of my free time educating myself about the world by reading through the Times thoroughly, which has brought me to some of those unusual places found only online.

One is a blog called "Lesson Plans," about using new teaching techniques "in a complicated world." Today's post was about a blog that a teacher in Alaska started for her students called "Tell the Raven." Each student can post on the blog and comment on their peers' posts.

The education articles on this blog are usually boring or sappy, but I actually thought this was VERY cool. Having blogged for over a month now and published somewhere around 25 posts, I can say that the experience of writing a post is entirely different from the traditional essay or even the good ol' "reading journals" in a number of important ways.

1. Blog posts can be about any topic while still providing necessary direction. In sophomore year, my English teacher Mr. Young often had us write "prose sketches," or short, rough essays about the topic of our choice. This, however, often left students more confused than liberated. There are a zillion and one things a person could write about. Blogging, however, gives just the right amount of freedom. Each blog has a general purpose, some form of a loose heading, like "An American exchange student's adventures through South America" or "Perez Hilton's celebrity gossip." The blogger has a general idea of what to write about, and can always rely on just writing about his day, as boring as it may have been. Or...he can go on a wild, unwarranted tangent about education.

2. Blogs are incredibly personal. Essays are usually academic; we have to put on airs to discuss the literary merit of John Ashberry, or Virginia Woolf's stream-of-consciousness. Because a blogger has such total control over his posts - no rubric, no mandatory topic - he also has the power to write them in any way he chooses.

3. Blogs are actually read by other people. When you write an essay, it's specifically for one teacher; there's less pride in something that's only read by one person, and also less genuinity because no matter what a teacher says, students are always writing for the teacher. When writing something for a variety of people, I feel like I'm producing something original and worthwhile.

In my opinion, blogs have assets that make up for most of the shortcomings of other student writing.

So of course, I thought this experimental education in Denali, Alaska is absolutely brilliant, like a lightbulb that goes off saying ah...if only Staples were doing this...

I'm accustomed to new teaching techniques...my Chinese teacher Mr. Fray had us do a TON of projects using different software, websites, media, etc. Sometimes they didn't work out, sometimes they did; all were worth the effort in creating a new curriculum that could incoporate the best teaching tools available. While "English" is a pretty well-established curriculum, I think it would be worth it for English teachers to look into blogs as a new tool to improving student writing.

(Of course, after reading this article about the Alaskan teacher and thinking she's a genius, I remembered that one particularly...noteworthy...Staples teacher was already doing this last year. So maybe it's not so revolutionary. Regardless...it's still very cool and something that I think more teachers should check out).

Since I'm on a whole "education" theme today, I should probably talk a little more in depth about the Argentinean education system.

I must warn you first: please excuse, what my aunt Cindy called, any displays of "Yankee cultural elitism." I went to a really rocking school, I got a great education and I can see some pretty blatant differences between a Westport education and a San Vicente education.

First is technology. This is obviously a factor that can't be changed, not easily anyway. The U.S. is simply way more advanced technologically; we have more computers and better computers. My American friends might not realize just how much of a difference this makes. Our education is based primarily on the computer; it is impossible to be a Staples student without a computer and an internet connection. Argentina is still stuck on the pen and paper. If students find some information they need for a class on the internet, they don't usually print it out; they copy it down. Argentina is called a developing, not third-world, country, yet its technology lags far behind the U.S. This makes a huge difference in how quickly students can learn; I have a much greater appreciation for always having new computers available to use, even if I have to wait in line at the library. In San Vicente, they're still on Windows 98.

Staples education is without a doubt fast-paced, especially in Honors or AP classes. Teachers talk and you write, getting as much as you can. You abbreviate, you learn to pick out the important info, you bullet, you number, you do whatever you have to do to get the notes you need in your notebook. Sometimes nice teachers will pass out handouts. Argentina: not so much.

Argentina is about rote memorization. When a teacher wants you to write something down in your notebook, she will read each line very slowly to make sure you copy it verbatim. I don't understand this. I can understand not passing out handouts - making copies all the time gets to be expensive. But why aren't students expected to pay closer attention, to allow teachers to speak more rapidly, maybe use the chalkboard if they really want to accentuate a point? My favorite class so far is literature, not just because I like the subject in general, but because the teacher forces students to read, think and discuss rather than just copy.

Teaching students to copy and memorize the material they need to know will allow them to be successful in a specific field, but it will only allow them to do what has been done before, and how it has been done before. Teaching students to think and expand, to draw their own conclusions - that teaches them how to improve on what has been done before, and that, after all, is the definition of economic and social progress, isn't it?

Even Better than the Levitt

Mom, Dad, Friends, Family: I'd like to introduce you to my best friends. They are called Los Palermas, and they are awesome.

I have written a number of times in my blog about "cumbia," the most authentic Argentine music, enjoyed by kids and adults alike. This is the kind of music that I used to call "Spanish polka music"...except then, it was actually Mexican.

All cumbia songs have the exact same rhythm - 1, 2 and 1, 2 and 1, etc. The bands usually consist of multiple percussionists, an accordionist (my favorite), a guitarrist, and an electric keyboard. You'd think the music would get boring after the first few songs, and while it is incredibly repetitive, it's just so much fun that even I was screaming along to the favorite tunes.

The band didn't start playing until 2, and we arrived at 11 to hang out before and listen to the warm-up band. I wasn't planning on staying that late until I saw their picture on the ticket and realized that these cool cats could possibly be the most ridiculous people on the planet. The ticket showed a cartoon of all of them; they were all very fat, with unusual hairdos (including one with a mullet) and bright red and white suits. I decided to stick around.

It was well worth it. Listening to their music was surreal. It felt like a Yankee stereotype of rural South America, an Argentine version of the Brazilian Square Dance video on YouTube. I have a video of Fede and Rocio dancing cumbia but unfortunately it doesn't load because the internet is so slow. You'll just have to wait until I come home to see it, I suppose.

How was your Saturday night?

Top 10: Things I Miss

1) Green Goddess dressing
2) Ali's Den/the Hamburger Household
3) Lida Rose
4) The Sibs
5) 6 Dolla Tuesday
6) Pointless txts
7) Mela, Colby, Dulce and Monk (and Mrs. Tibbles and Scooter to a lesser extent)
8) Uptown Starbucks (opposed to downtown Starbucks)
9) The jedi at night
10) The Secret Life of the American Teenager

Oh...and my family and friends, and stuff like that.

Addendum: Chinese class with Fray Laoshi

Smile Like You Mean It

Why is "Smile Like You Mean It" the title of today's blog? Because it was the first thing that popped into my head.

I couldn't decide what to write my blog about today. I wanted to write about my thoughts on turning 18, but I figured I should save that post for next month. I could just write about the events of my day, but it's pretty much the same as all the other days, so that would be boring. I thought that if I could just think of a killer slogan (nudge nudge, wink wink) I could make it work. Thus: Smile Like You Mean It.

Definition:

Smile Like You Mean It: song; by the Killers; featured on hit show the OC; slightly grunge pop-rock

Truth be told, I don't really like The Killers all that much. I find their music bland. I liked Somebody Told Me with its vague allusions to transvestites (?), but Mr. Brightside was boring and by the time Sam's Town was released I had pretty much a one-word response: yawn.

Actually, that's a lie. I really didn't have an opinion on the Killers either way until I started writing this blogpost.

"Smile You Like Mean It" is, however, a fantastic pump-up song to dance to by yourself in your bedroom when you're looking for a musical lift. Not that I do that or anything...

Not that I also do that with Stevie Nicks, the Dandy Warhols, the Eurythmics, Paolo Nutini, MIKA, Rooney, Mexican Institute of Sound, and other random but incredibly toolish bands like that...or anything...

Confession: My name is Brandon and I'm addicted to my iPod.

Hi, Brandon.

For reals, I think I may have been spending a little too much time with iPod recently. I tell myself that when I read for three trillion hours a day I'm educating myself; movies...well, yeah I learn things from movies, I say; but music? Other than learning that Katy Perry might be a lesbian, that God is a DJ, and that buying new shoes makes everything all right, pop music isn't exactly educational.

But so what! Some things can purely be for pleasure right? At least in my solo dance parties I am, without doubt, smiling like I mean it.

And wow. I almost made that title work.

New York, New York

True (and random) story: I'm not the biggest fan of Bret Easton Ellis. I read Rules of Attraction earlier this year and thought his satire was superficial. The writing, however, is usually amusing and addicting. When choosing books to bring with me to Argentina, I knew that while Ellis is rarely enlightening, he is almost always entertaining.

It was this mindset that I chose American Psycho to read today, the story of a Wall Street businessman (it's not clear exactly what he does for a living) who also happens to be a bizarre and erratic serial killer. The story is a mockery of the decadence of the 1980s in NYC; (apparently Ellis doesn't appreciate glam rock). Ellis makes his point very clear: the narrator spends nearly half the novel just describing the label and price of the character's clothes; Ellis italicizes certain syllables of their dialogue to highlight their pretentious way of talking; the men read GQ more than the Wall Street Journal and regularly cheat on their girlfriends with their friends' wives. Ellis makes it clear that these people are, without doubt, disgusting.

So here's the problem: I want to hang out with them.

No, it's not that I want to taunt the homeless with singles or that I want to score cocaine in some club for models, investment bankers, and their illicit, but tolerated, affairs. It's really more that I want to be in NYC.

I want to eat fancy dinners that cost over $50.00. I want to walk through Times Squares gazing upward at the neon lights. I want to go to Broadway, to the Met, to Columbia, to anywhere I can be surrounded by giant skyscrapers and millions of people. Sitting in my 200 person Catholic school in rural South America, New York couldn't be more glamorous...even when viewed from the perspective of a Republican serial killer.

Seriously, right now I love New York more than Flava Flav does. And THAT is saying a lot.

(Actually, it doesn't because Flava Flav ended up picking the other girl. But I have a theory that VH1 executives forced him to do it because they knew she would make such a great spin-off series. Zach: please discuss this in your Stanford "Conspiracy Theories" class).

White Pants

True story: I own white pants. Now, not many people would actually buy white pants. You have to know how to rock the white pants if you own them; you need to be a fashion maven. You need to be suave. You need to be cool. You need to be sexy.

I, unfortunately, am none of those things. I bought the white pants from Gap this summer when they were on sale for $18.00 and I was in a particularly Goddamnit-I'll-wear-white-pants-if-I-wanna mood. In the U.S. I wore my white pants only for the the purpose of taking extremely amusing photos (RE: "A Classy Evening" and "End of June" albums on Facebook).

I brought the white pants to Argentina not exactly sure when I would wear them, if at all. But, as I said, I like the idea of just having white pants.

ANYWAY, this last Sunday was la Fiesta de la Primavera (Spring Festival) also known as El Dia de los Estudiantes (Student's Day...if September 21 is a weekday the kids have school off. And that's nonfiction). Saturday night (and by "Saturday Night" I mean "Sunday Morning") is spent at the biggest boliche in the area...Menfis. "You're going to love it," the Argentines told me. Talk of the boliche felt like the opening scene of Cabaret:

"In there, life is beautiful. The girls are beautiful. Even the orchestra is beautiful!"

So I was pretty excited for this extravaganza and I wanted to wear something special for the occassion.

I dug through my dresser and stumbled upon the white pants. I stopped. I examined. Hmmmm. I'd never wear white pants seriously in the U.S.A, but...can I pull it off here? Can I pretend to be fashionable, suave, cool and sexy?

Ya damn straight I can.

I got a little carried away and decided that I would also wear a white polo (with blue stripes). AND my carpincho alpargatas. I looked in the mirror and decided I looked sufficiently ridiculous. Perfect.

My response to any doubters? I had a few.

Most basic: Um...I'm from Manhattan. This is what the SoHo hipsters are wearing...God, do you know ANYTHING?

More elaborate: My mom is Heidi Klum.

I pondered at one point in the evening trying to enter the VIP lounge by telling them that I'm Brandon Davis, Paris Hilton's ex-boyfriend. I think C-List celebrities deserve VIP status in rural Argentina.

Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) I never had to use any of these lies. No one questioned my appearance. Maybe they just assume the Yankee knows what he's doing. If this is the case, they are sorely mistaken.

Anyway, the dancing was very fun at the beginnning. The music wasn't too loud and the boliche not too crowded. I found what seemed to be almost everyone I'd met in San Vicente over my month here. They all invited me to join them. Good times aplenty.

Things change. The music got louder and louder and the dance floor became so crowded that I felt I couldn't move. Once the cigarettes were lit and the smoke hovered just above my head I decided it was time to leave the dance floor.

So I stayed far away from the speakers for the rest of the evening which ended, by the way, around 7:30. The Argentines spend too much time on everything. I like quick, efficient. Do your work and get it done. Have your fun, but do it quickly. I see no reason to languish in the boliche for over five hours. Three is more than enough. One friend later told me that alcohol helps pass the time. I find this mentality to be extremely warped...let's drink more in order to dance more, they say...why not drink less, dance less, and sleep more?

ANYWAY, even though the boliche was indeed as nice as they said, it's still not my scene. A boliche is a boliche; the particular size and scene are insignificant. I think my boliche days may be over; in truth, I prefer being a hermit than a partier.

Sunday, as I mentioned, was Dia de la Primavera. The Argentines spent this year's DDLP at a place called Girabaldi, roasting sausages and hamburgers, getting wasted, and dancing to reggaeton and cumbia. We went to bed at 8 and woke up at 10. We arrived at Girabaldi around 11:30 and left around 5:30. Again...why is so much time needed? Seriously...six hours to eat, drink and dance? That's longer than their school day.

I was completely exhausted at the fiesta and kind of hating myself for thinking it would be an interesting cultural activity in which to participate. I'm pretty sure I already got the "cultural" part down: the Argentines like to party.

I did, however, run into some progressive, politically-active Argentines who were fun to talk to. One of them told me that she hated my country...but she likes the people. She wanted to know all about Judaism, and she already knew an impressive amount. She told me about the censorship of the Peronist government and the lack of women's rights. They told me sadly that Argentinean law permits abortions only for mentally disabled women who have been raped. It's times like these that I'm proud to be an American (and pretend that Sarah Palin doesn't exist).

When I returned to San Vicente around 7:00, all I wanted to do was go to sleep. The whole Colombero family, however, was out at the Fiesta Nacional de los Cosechadores (National Festival of the Farmers). This giant exposition draws around 50,000 people a year. It's like a big county fair, with concerts, food, craft sales, etc. The main event is, of course, the tractors and livestock on display.

I joined the Colombero family there and came back to the house a few hours later. I planned on going to bed around 10:00. I turned on the television just to zone out a bit, but quickly discovered Scoop on Cinemax.

I fell asleep at 1. Damn you, Woody Allen.

International Talk Like a Pirate Day

Dear friends,

Today, the Argentinean Pirate celebrates a very important holiday. Yesterday, I wrote a post about religion which readers have deemed "heady" and "frickin intelligent." I actually meant it to be funny, but if it made you ponder, ruminate, or mull...well, I'm flattered.

Today, however, is a very serious matter. Today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day.

Unfortunately, I have no community in which to celebrate this holiday. Everyone knows you need ten people to make a minyan, and there just aren't ten people in San Vicente who speak English, let alone pirate English.

Alas, I am a lonely pirate - Jack Sparrow without the Black Pearl; Davey Jones without the Flying Dutchman; a Chinatown street vendor without a DVD copier.

On a happy note...did you know that Davy Jones was one of David Bowie's original stage names?

Enjoy International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Paz y Amor,
La Pirata

So a Jewish American and Catholic Argentine Walk into a Boliche...

So I'm trying to start a revolution. Our (my) principles are the following:

1. ABBA should be appreciated and treated as a valuable and relevant cultural relic.
2. Facebook is awesome.

I think Agneta, Benny, Bjorn, and Frida got number 1 covered without my help. I've heard Voulez-Vous more often this month than I did this past summer. No, actually that's a lie...but for literary purposes, we'll assume it to be true.

That leaves only number 2. This I have been accomplishing slowly and deliberately, taking time for each individual person to help them create Facebook and give them a brief tutorial. (Argument for the Old Facebook partisans...New Facebook is much harder to teach to the newly baptized). Today was Fede's turn.

So I went over to his house. As we waited for the Facebook confirmation to go through, our conversation rapidly changed from Gwen Stefani and Avril Lavigne to:

Fede: What's the difference between Christians and Jews?
Me: We don't believe in Jesus.
Fede: You don't believe in God?
Me: No, we believe in God, but not Jesus.
Fede: I don't understand.

I proceded to explain the difference between the Holy Trinity and the Jewish God. I did so incredibly ineptly, but he said he understood. He then asked me about the differences between Protestants and Catholics. (NOTE: they're not the same thing). I explained to him the history of Marin Luther, (also ineptly), to which he nodded, as if suddenly figuring out something that's been bothering him for a while. I explained to him that Catholics were not the majority in America, that Protestants were in fact the majority. I tried to explain to him the Red-Blue divide among religion as well, but found that saying Evangelicals and Catholics are pro-life and Jews and other Protestants are pro-choice was just a LITTLE inadequate. I tried also to explain Kashrut to him; he said he understood (that makes one of us).

I came home pretty impressed with myself. Before coming to Argentina, I was ashamed at how little I know about Catholicism; unlike many Jews, I think it's pretty important to learn about the world's second-largest and wealthiest religion (institutionally, I mean. Everyone knows the Jews are ACTUALLY richest. We just hide it in fancy banks and hedge funds. Goldman Sachs...Vatican Church...almost the same).

Anyway, I came down here thinking I knew nothing about any religion except my own (and Islam, but only because my future president is Muslim and some Republicans have been kind enough to disseminate very helpful information about it). I found out today, however, that I really don't have much to be worried about.

It's not that Fede or any other Argentines are uneducated...it's just that it's not relevant. Almost the entire country is Catholic, as is the government. There are no Jews or Protestants in San Vicente, and not too many in the Santa Fe province either. Learning about these other religions, other than for intellectual curiosity, is pretty pointless. It'd kind of be like Americans learning about Zoroastrianism. (What's that? Point proven).

I should probably be coming to some concluding revelation here, about the meaning of diversity or something like that, and if I wanted, I could write about how I have discovered new levels of agnosticism, distance from God, etc. But for once in my life, I'm going to exercise self-control over what comes out of my mouth.

So I'll conclude just by saying that I'm glad to find out I'm not actually as stupid as I thought.

A Day in the Life

CAUTION before proceeding: don't judge me. Here in South America, I have taken laziness to new levels, but it's not because I want to, it's because that's just life here.

***

"I woke up, rolled out of bed, dragged a comb across my head..." - The Beatles

Not exactly, actually.

9:00: The cell phone alarm rings. It's a Spanish song called Por Amor a Vos or something like that. It's incredibly annoying. Anyway, I press snooze until 10:00 at which point, I straight up disactivate all alarms because I don't want to get up and I don't have to. (By the way, there are 5 alarms: 9:00, 9:30, 10:00, 10:30, 11:30).

11:30: Norma, my host mother, knocks on my door to wake me up. I look at my watch and feel incredibly embarrassed. I take a shower.

12:00: Make instant coffee godliness.

12:15: Eat lunch with the family. Milanesa is a popular meal...what we would call a breaded chicken cutlet. Instead of chicken though, they usually have beef.

12:45: Lunch ends and the family disperses. I go to my room and listen to music or read.

1:15: Go to school, a two-block walk. School is basically: try to pay attention and understand...but eventually just read all day. Except for three twenty minute breaks in the middle of the day when I'm social.

7:00: Return home.

7:15: Sometimes I have various activities to go to...Emilio's English class, a Rotary meeting, an Interact meeting, etc. These meetings bore me to tears because I don't understand anything. At the last Rotary meeting, the district governor spoke for over an hour. I have absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Sitting there quietly and feigning attention was incredibly difficult. I don't do "quiet" well.

8:15: Return home.

9:00: Eat dinner

9:30: Spend time with the host family.

10:00: Go online. Chat with mis amigos estadounidenses (thats the Spanish word for what we say as "American." Remember, they're American, too).

12:00: Attempt to sleep. Watch TV for a little while...generally random American and British shows on this channel called ISAT...I strongly suggest "Little Britain." It's one of the funniest shows I've ever seen. And I don't even understand most of the jokes because it's about England.

Somewhere between 1 and 2: Fall asleep.

True life: If I ever become a famous songwriter, my "day in the life" is going to be SO much more boring than Lennon's.

David Bowie: a Boliche Bonanza?

Anyone who knows me well will know that I have an unnatural obsession with very outdated music. My general thesis is that without Kanye and Britney, our generation would be incredibly lost, and without Timbaland, music might just disappear entirely. In general, I prefer the world pre-90's, except for Alanis Morissette because she's pretty snazzy, Bill Clinton because he plays a mean saxophone, and of course the whole Backstreet Boys/NSync/Christina Aguilera/Britney Spears/Spice Girls phase because it's just so absurd.



Apparently, Argentina thinks the same! They know that disco is "out," as one Argentine teenager told me. But they like it anyway!



Unfortunately, their music collection is incomplete. Here are my suggestions for a more well-rounded retro culture.



1. FUNK: I apologize for sounding politically incorrect, but I really think it's true: America always seems to embrace music that was previously strictly Black. Argentina basically skipped out on la musica de los negros (which sounds REALLY politically incorrect...rest assured, negro is simply the word for "black" here). Jazz? They have tango. Rap? They have reggaeton. Now, I can deal without rap. I'd kind of like for my South American amigos to get to know Kanye, but otherwise, rap is not my favorite. And jazz? That would just be weird at a boliche. But James Brown? I think he'd fit nicely between the Village People and the BeeGees.


2. David Bowie: Sometimes, you just have to put on your red shoes and dance the blues, as Mr. Bowie instructs in my personal favorite, "Let's Dance." The boliche is saturated with the music of the 70s, so I think a bit of glam rock would add some diversity to the music selection.



3. Backstreet Boys: I really hate the Backstreet Boys' music. I do, however, find it incredibly laughable, so I really enjoy listening to it. (NOTE: I like laughing). I think it'd be pretty fun to dance to one of their hits, none of which I remember right now.



On second thought, maybe it's best that the Backstreet Boys stay in memory only, or even better, out of our memory entirely...



Meanwhile, I'll look out for other great hits at the boliche. Next week, we're going to the biggest boliche of all (in this rural area anyway) for "La Fiesta de la Primavera," a day of fun for Argentine students. I apologize for having nothing new to report...I'm sure things will pick up soon!


Paz y Amor,
La Pirata

Three is a Magic Number

Week One:

One is the loneliest number.

False statement. The first week I interacted with more people than I usually do in an entire year. Rotarians, classmates, teachers, parents, etc. Lots of cheek-kissing, mate-tasting, Quinciñera-attending, and ABBA-dancing (though that's really not so new). I was told that there are 6,000 people in the town of San Vicente. It felt like I was meeting 10,000 of them.

Week Two:

2 AM. Just breathe.

And I do! I spend more time relaxing at my host home, where I'm beginning to feel more comfortable. I read a lot, chatted online with friends, old and now new as well, walked around the plaza, etc. Thanks for the suggestion, Anna Nalick.

Week Three:

Has come to a close today with an asado at a friend's house in the fields!

Three weeks, 21 days...lots of hours and minutes. I feel just at the border of calm and bored, staying only on the side of the former with a few good books. So where do I go from here?

I've been relying on invitations the last few weeks, and now, I think I'm going to start doing the inviting myself.

My POA (Plan of ADVENTURE):

Go to the museum in town (about the history of San Vicente...not so exciting, but I've got to go some time)!
Visit Rosario and EXPLORE!
See Mamma Mia! and VCB in Santa Fe
Spend time with Kanye in the BA, (dinner with Rihanna and NERD is a possibility)

Any other ideas?

Geezy, Beezy and Maybe, Just Maybe...Yeezy?!?

There is a painfully enticing rumor going around the internet these days.

OK, so it's not really going around the internet. It's actually concentrated to a very small group of people who care. These people are mainly white suburban youth like me who are obsessed with Kanye Omari West, particularly those suburban youth studying abroad in Argentina for the year.

So it's pretty much a one-person group.

Regardless...I read an article yesterday on Argentinean Yahoo! News that Kanye West had added Buenos Aires to his international Glow in the Dark tour. Furthermore, the article said that the concert would be on October 18, which happens to be the day before my birthday. I usually don't care about birthdays, but I'm willing to make this year an exception and splurge on the 6-hour bus ride to Buenos Aires.

Fellow Kanye fans, or those with whom I have shared my passion, will understand my excitement upon reading this article. I immediately went to Kanye's website to buy tickets. But the hero himself says that the tour isn't starting until October 22 in Brazil. Hm..."maybe they just haven't picked a venue yet?" Rachel suggests. Maybe...but further net-surfing provides scant information on this mysterious concert. Ticketmaster.com says: "no tickets available."

In the meantime, I suppose I will have to make do with "Graduation" on repeat.

School is going quite well...while I'm not generally interested in the subjects, nor can I understand what's going on a lot of the time, I'm beginning to make legit friends (something I'm surprisingly almost capable of!). I think things will pick up once we begin a new book...I'm lost in the literature class about the zillion-page Don Quijote that I didn't read. History is interesting, but unfortunately there isn't a lot of it in the beginning of the week. Monday and Tuesday are mostly Physics, Math and Business Theory.

Physics: I've already taken the class, but the way they teach it here is unusual. It's based more in the real-life uses of physics...sometimes not really related to physics at all. This week is spent learning about alternative energy resources. There's very little math or formulas.

Math: Right now, it's polynomial long divison. My least favorite unit in algebra. On my list entitled "Things I'm Afraid of," this subject is right behind rats and just above "Pat Robertson was right about everything."

Business Theory: This class sounds SO COOL! We're learning about marketing now. Unfortunately, the teacher is WAY too fast for me to follow. Also: a lot of math is involved, and the whole thing is so foreign (not literally) that I've found it difficult to try to catch up. My grade is split up into "Natural Sciences" and "Economy." I'm in the economy class, but really it's about business administration, not the theory we learn in the US. The Argentines are much more practical.

I have, however, read a lot since coming here and watched a number of good movies on TV.

(Sidenote: the movie channel plays the most RANDOM American movies...last night I saw "Unconditional Love" and "Hot Resorts." Ever heard of them? Because I hadn't. They were, however, pretty funny.)

While things do not sound to be so exciting, I assure all you readers out there (mainly my neurotic parents) that I really am "on a living spree," as Kanye would say.

And remember...when all else fails: the Sims 2 is NEVER boring. (Though I promise you that I'm not actually that lame).

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

As some of you may know, I haven't gotten up before 10:00 since I've been here. I absolutely hate it. Laziness is gross.

This morning, however, I was up at 7:30 AM. No, I didn't wake up at 7:30, I was simply...up at 7:30.

Why, you ask? Because this country is INSANE.

A brief rundown of my night: I remained at home until 11:30 at night, at which point Franco and Ezequiel arrived at the Colombero household to walk over to Fede's. Emilio was playing video games with a group of about ten friends. They didn't look like they were leaving anytime soon. Note: they're twelve.

Anyway, we stayed at Fede's until a little before 2, just playing cards and charlando. At 1:45, we piled into Raul's van and blasted reggaeton. They were all screaming the lyrics. Once we arrived at the plaza, which is also right next to the church, everyone got out and started dancing. I felt like i'd joined a gang of miscreants, something between Alex and his droogs and Danny Zuko and the T-Birds. It was at this time when I realized I am so over this stage of life called "youth." Granted, I was never really into the whole "I'm wild" thing, but this pretty much confirmed the notion.

Anyway, at 2 we met up with the others in our group and boarded the van that would take us to Marijuana for the bigger, better boliche. Once there, we quickly headed for the dance floor.

The music startled me a bit. I think Argentina is about twenty to thirty years behind on music. "Stayin Alive," "Celebration" and other disco hits usually relegated to the Cedar Brook Cafe were big hits of the night. Old Madonna and Paula Abdul music videos were projected onto the wall. Saturday Night Fever reached its height with the Village People. I kid you not...the club did the "YMCA."

Eventually, cumbia and reggaeton were mixed in. The music got louder and the music intensified. The floor shook. This time, however, I was actually enjoying the craziness of the scene. As I said, being a young whippersnapper isn't exactly my "thing," but hey...you're never too old to dance. Even if that dancing happens in the Boca Lago Club House. Maybe the parties are actually better post-retirement...the music can never be too loud for those folks!

Final schedule for the night:

11:30: go to Fede's
1:45: dance in the plaza
2: go to boliche in Marijuana
2:30: arrive in Marijuana
7:00: leave Marijuana for San Vicente
7:30: arrive in San Vicente
8:00: fall asleep

Oy.

Las Diez Plagas!

Yesterday I was supposed to go to Rosario. Unfortunately, I'm a freak who didn't hear either of the TWO alarms I set (one of which is the Batman theme. How did I miss that?) They went without me so I went to school.

Anyway...last night was a typically-American one, except for the fact that it started at midnight. A group of about eight people went to a friend's house to watch a horror movie. Last night's choice: the Reaping (or in español, Pruebas de Fe, which sounds so much more intense, especially if you say it in a very deep voice with a Spanish accent). The girls kept talking throughout the movie and the boys kept yelling at them to shut up. This made me feel so at home. The movie, for those who don't know, is essentially a modern retelling of the ten plagues section of Passover. You can imagine:

Sangre! (dip)
Ranas! (dip)
Piojos! (dip)
Moscas! (dip)
Enfermedades de Vacas! (dip)
Granos! (dip)
Fuego! (dip)
Langostas! (dip)
Oscuridad! (dip)
Muerte de la Primer Nacido! (dip)

So many new words for next year's Seder!

Today I slept through the morning and then watched the Argentina-Paraguay football game with some amigos. And by football I mean soccer.

I apologize for this brief and boring post, but the last two days have been just that.

Tonight's activity, however, is a visit to a bigger boliche in a nearby town. Rumor has it that this one is even louder than the other.

Grandpa may need to start researching hearing aids.

I Scurred! ... a Note on Sarah Palin

I was planning on writing today about my thoughts on Sarah Palin. But it's time-consuming and pointless. I'll let the professionals at almost every newspaper in the country tell you about how unfit she is for the job.

I would, however, like to provide a little info on her social policy issues.

• Believes Creationism should be taught in public schools
• Against abortion in all cases, even rape or incest
• Does not believe global warming was caused by humans
• For drilling in ANWR, (but she mentioned alternative energy resources once in her speech on Wednesday, so don't worry globe, she's legit)
• Believes the war in Iraq is God's will

You know, I once heard of a presidential candidate with similar beliefs. I don't want to name him here because I don't think it's nice to embarass people and name names, but I'll just say that...things didn't work out so well.

I also once heard of a presidential candidate who didn't believe these things. I will name him here because I once admired him for not believing these things. His name was John McCain.

Oh well. He gone.

Now since Obama's spiritual advisor got so much attention, I think it's only fair to Palin that her guy gets the same!

Palin's pastor on the nature of Jesus:

"What you see in a terrorist -- that's called the invisible enemy. There has always been an invisible enemy. What you see in Iraq, basically, is a manifestation of what's going on in this unseen world called the spirit world. ... We need to think like Jesus thinks. We are in a time and a season of war, and we need to think like that. We need to develop that instinct. We need to develop as believers the instinct that we are at war, and that war is contending for your faith. ... Jesus called us to die. You're worried about getting hurt? He's called us to die. Listen, you know we can't even follow him unless you are willing to give up your life. ... I believe that Jesus himself operated from that position of war mode. Everyone say "war mode." Now you say, wait a minute Ed, he's like the good shepherd, he's loving all the time and he's kind all the time. Oh yes he is -- but I also believe that he had a part of his thoughts that knew that he was in a war." -- Pastor Kalnins, Palin's pastor

Note: he also suggested that Kerry-supporters would not be saved. I guess that's kind of like the Vote or Die campaign, except more like Vote Republican or Be Eternally Damned.

Also: two weeks ago, David Brickner, the executive director of Jews for Jesus, spoke at Palin's church. Palin's pastor warned the Brickner's views were not her own, but I think it's worth noting the community she comes from since so much has been said about the community Obama came from. Brickner said:

"Judgment [of Jews] is very real and we see it played out on the pages of the newspapers and on the television. It's very real. When [my son] was in Jerusalem he was there to witness some of that judgment, some of that conflict, when a Palestinian from East Jerusalem took a bulldozer and went plowing through a score of cars, killing numbers of people. Judgment — you can't miss it." --David Brickner, executive director of Jews for Jesus speaking at Palin's church

And don't forget to vote November 4!

Tomorrow: back to Argentina...a visit to Rosario!

I'll Have a Venti Black Coffee with a Double Shot of Espresso and Self-Indulgence to Go, Please

There are 10,000 Starbucks shops in the world and there are over 30 different types of coffees. I figured everyone in the world has tried at least one of them.

This is not the case.

You see, people here don't drink coffee, they drink mate. Mate is a very unique South American drink consisting of yerba leaves mixed with hot water. In the summer, hot water is replaced with iced juice; this kind of mate is called terere.

When the Argentine teenagers "hang out" (a term that I taught the English classes here) in the plaza, one person brings the mate cup with its silver straw, and everyone takes turns sharing the drink. The cup is passed around the circle as everyone takes a few sips. It's a little reminiscent of the Arab hookah, but fortunately much healthier.

I tried to explain to the Argentines that in the U.S. we too like to get together to drink hot beverages. I told them friends will often go to Starbucks and have a cup of coffee.

There were blank faces. "¿Conoces a Starbucks?" They exchanged confused glances and shook their heads.

I explained to them that Starbucks is a cafe (something else not often found here) where they sell cups of coffee. I made a motion with my hands to show the size of the cups of coffee. Their eyes widened.

It was at this point when I realized how unbelievably bizarre our custom is.

First...who drinks as much coffee as we do! The rest of the world has a small cup after dinner. We, however, have to drink buckets. If the Venti Starbucks cups weren't so stylish, we'd look like disgusting slobs drinking soda right out of the two-liter bottle.

Second...coffee actually doesn't taste that good. Sure, there are those fancy Starbucks drinks with whipped cream, caramel, chocolate, hazelnut and a cherry on top, but for those of us who prefer to not join the, quite literally, growing demographic of the American obese, this is not an option. Mate, on the other hand, tastes great even without sugar. Or maybe I'm just accustomed to the bitterness of coffee.

Third...I think it might be important to note that drinking coffee at Starbucks is more a self-serving activity than a social one. The Argentines share; we buy our own. They are participating in a cultural custom; we are fulfilling an addiction. They laugh; we brood (Bobby D sunglasses are a plus...especially pessimistic artsy types may find berets or oversized, ratty clothing to be helpful).

And I'm standing there, telling the Argentines about Starbucks and realizing how weird, and possibly gross, it is...and I couldn't miss it more! I want the comfy chairs. I want to run into random people at the counter. I want to carry the cup around with me all day to look cosmopolitan and debonaire. I want...I want...

I WANT MY GRANDE CAFE LATTE!

I don't care how materialistic or pretentious it is. I love Starbucks and I'm glad to have its coffee as my country's drink of choice.

Sarah Palin and San Vicente: Baby Mama Drama

Like the rest of the world (no, I'm not completely out of touch here in Argentina), I too learned last week that John McCain had picked Sarah Palin as governor. And like the rest of the world, I was surprised.

Like the rest of the world, I knew very little about Sarah Palin. I knew she is the governor of Alaska and, like, that's cool; I knew she was the mayor of a town called Wasilla and, like, that's cool; I knew that she's a woman and, like, that's cool...but other than that, I was pretty clueless about this person suddenly shoved into the national spotlight.

It's seems like the McCain campaign followed a similar line of reasoning.

After more research, I learned that Sarah Palin is not as "cool" as I originally thought. My Jews for Obama listserv called her "the female Bush" for her evangelical-biased policies; Zach informed me that she's very pro-life; another site chided her out for uniquely un-green policies(I think we need a word for the opposite of green...orange?), and Wikipedia told me that Wasilla, the town that brought her to Alaskan glory, has a population of somewhere between five- and nine-thousand. That's about the size of San Vicente.

Then, of course, came the news about her seventeen-year-old daughter, the rebuttals of the internet rumors (of which I never heard prior to the Republicans' announcement) and the McCain campaign/RNC spinning out of control faster than the winds of Hurricane Gustav.

So I'm obviously not the biggest fan of Sarah Palin, but I have to say...I feel sorry for her regarding her family life right now.

Teen pregnancy was always a distant issue for me living in the blue states (and being male), existing only in movies and TV shows. Palin's family crisis seems to be only another story to add to Juno MacGuff's and Amy Jergens', a media-produced spectacle rather than a very real dilema.

But now, this secular, godless blue-stater is getting a little taste of the issue up close here in Argentina, with real people and not celebrities like Jamie Lynn Spears or fictional characters.

This past Sunday while walking through the park with two girls my age (17), we passed a young woman with a baby on her lap and a man standing next to her. I asked one of the girls I was with if that was the baby's mother. She responded affirmatively. I asked how old the mother was.

"Our age," she said as if that was completely normal.

OK...so I met one 17-year-old girl who's married and with a child. Not SUCH a big deal.

But as we're walking through the plaza I begin to see many more of these young families, with parents who couldn't be much older than me. I ask my new friends questions about it, and they told me that it's not uncommon for girls to get married before graduating high school.

Do they finish school? Sometimes. Sometimes not.

At one point, one of the girls I was with left us to join her twenty-seven-year-old boyfriend. The boyfriend opened the car door for her. A girl of about five was inside.

"Is that her boyfriend's daughter?" I asked the other friend. She nodded her head.

As we continued walking just the two of us, my friend explained to me that girls sometimes get married even younger than 17; it is also not uncommon for the young girls' boyfriends to leave them. She told one story of a fifteen-year-old girl in town whose boyfriend left her after she became pregnant.

And abortions aren't legal here? I asked.

She shook her head and waved her finger. "No."

Sure enough, as we're leaving the park, we spot a girl with a very rotund stomach passing by. She walked confidentally and surprisingly normally. She was not defiant like Juno or self-conscious like Amy on The Secret Life of the American Teenager. To me she seemed remarkably at ease. "Ojos," she says mockingly to my friend, the Argentine way of saying "Oo, are you dating?" It literally translates to "Eyes" or "Watch out."

"That's the pregnant girl I was talking about," my friend says.

Ojos, indeed.

Quinciñera: a Bat Mitzvah on Red Bull

Midnight, Saturday: I'm in a rural Argentinean town waiting in line to get into a Quinciñera for a girl I've never met. I learned her name only from a big sign out front that says "Tina." I hear the cumbia blasting inside as the birthday-girl and her mejores amigas wait for the rest of the guests.

It's times like this I'm absolutely positive that life is a Woody Allen movie.

Seriously...the entire evening felt like a deleted scene from Bananas, a nebbish bumping - but not so much grinding - with the Latin American ladies.

The night began with an acrobat troupe from Buenos Aires (I think...). An hour later there were salsa dancers, and around 2:30, clowns. All of these events were interspersed with cumbia, reggaeton and electric music. (Electric music is what they call our club mixes...David Guetta is very popular here, as is Calabria).

The dancing continued all night - or morning - long. I expected at some point to see the crowd thin, the drinking subside, and the music soften, but it never happened. Finally, at 4:30, I was tired so I walked home. Franco, a classmate who lives near the Colomberos, accompanied me (these streets are still very new and I still have a very horrible sense of direction). When we arrived at my house, Franco turned back around.

"Are you really going back to the party?" I asked in Spanish. He looked at me like I was the crazy one.

"Si!" He laughed. "Ciao!" And off he went for more.

At school on Monday, someone told me they were looking for me Saturday night but I had already left. "Why did you leave so early?" she asked me. So early???

For reals...this place is bananas.