Five Life Lessons I Learned By Studying Abroad

A year ago today I embarked on a journey to Argentina which forever changed my life.  This past year I have shared my story with family, friends, and strangers alike.  While some of the details in my story have changed to emphasize the truly important aspects of my journey, every time I share my experience - whether it was about visiting Iguazu Falls or learning to tango - the emotions embedded in my memories come rushing back.  As I reflect on my travels, I want to highlight five important lessons I learned.

1.  Stand up for yourself when someone is trying to take advantage of you.

Imagine opening a glass security door and walking up to a teller behind a bullet proof window to exchange American currency for Argentine pesos.  Not only do you lack a spanish vocabulary, you have absolutely no idea the current “blue dollar” exchange rate at this black market “cueva.”  You then hand the teller your $100 bill expecting to receive about 800 pesos in return.  As this sketchy and unfamiliar man behind the window reaches for a pile of bills, you notice the bills lack markings needed to be official currency.  He hands you half the bills with the red mark down the left hand side of the bill and the other half without the needed red mark.  The expression on his face is one con artists try to perfect.  At this moment, you have two choices: simply agree and walk out the security doors as to not make a scene.  Or, stand up for yourself and somehow demand real currency.

This was the situation I faced the second time I tried to exchange American currency for Argentine pesos.  I decided to choose the second option and make a scene.  Without uttering a word, I placed my index and middle fingers on the four fake 100 peso bills and assertively slid them back under the small opening in the bullet proof window.  The man, now confused, looked up and shrugged his shoulders.  Being as clear as I could, I said “Es, no bueno.”  The tone of my voice combined with a deadly stare assured the man that I was serious.  He reluctantly took back the fake currency and issued me real pesos.  To add insult to injury, I asked, “¿Donde esta, Frenando?” (Where is Fernando?) because I knew, from prior conversations with a trusted American, Frenando owned the cueva.  The teller’s face dropped and his eyes widened as he pointed to the back of the store.  I grinned and just walked away.

I learned a valuable lesson that morning: you must stand up for yourself when someone else is trying to take advantage of you.  Not only did I gain an additional 400 pesos of real currency, I gained self confidence by preventing this guy from pocketing my money.

2.  Walking and using public transportation is not such a scary thing.

Having grown up in southern California where everyone has a car, the idea of walking to the store, getting in a cab, or even using the metro was foreign.  When I exited the EZE airport terminal and walked to my taxi, I felt comfortable - and jet lagged.  The adrenaline soon kicked in when I realized my “professional driver” was a road rage maniac and my life could be in jeopardy.  This moment solidified my views on the need for my own car so I could be in control.

After getting lost and finding my way back to my residencia a few times with the use of the metro, I realized how living in a large city could be easy and enjoyable.  The experience in Buenos Aires made adjusting to the metro system in Washington, DC (I traveled to, and lived in, DC a few months later) so much easier.  I had conquered traveling in a foreign country where the metro stops were, obviously, in spanish.  I learned to be acutely aware of my surroundings and personal property.  While these skills were not used as often in DC, having them allowed me to adjust more quickly to my new environment.

I felt like I was thrown to the wolves when first directed to find my way home to the residencia by way of public transportation.  However, I now have the confidence in myself to use public transportation in any major city worldwide.

3.  Traveling gives you some global credibility.

Past family vacations consisted of driving throughout California and the west coast, and flying to the eastern seaboard.  However, last summer was the first time I traveled outside the United States.  I learned about ethnocentrism in school, but couldn’t appreciate what it really meant until I went abroad.  A phrase, made famous by the “Wizard of Oz”, goes like this: “I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.”  Substitute Kansas with California and this perfectly described my thoughts as the Argentine customs agent slammed my passport back on the counter and declared, “Oh, you’re American? Okay.  Thanks, bye!”  I now appreciate everyone who tries to speak english even though it comes out butchered.  Being on the other side of the discussion is an eyeopening experience to say the least.

With a broader view of how the world works - or doesn’t - I feel it is appropriate to engage in various discussions and contribute my firsthand experience.  Too many people repeat statements they heard on the radio or watched on the television and think it is the truth.  I’ve had the opportunity to discuss my personal experience in Argentina and offer another explanation as to why someone chooses to make certain political or cultural decisions.  Without traveling, you’re simply repeating something you heard or read.  By actually getting on a flight and exploring the world for yourself, it adds to your credibility - and your discussions become more lively, too.

Studying abroad allowed me to become a global citizen and fight the good fight when it has been appropriate.

4.  Appreciate how well off we are as Americans.

I was fortunate to travel to other parts of Buenos Aires and viewed how poorer neighborhoods lived.  Just a few miles from the wealthiest part of Buenos Aires were children “playing” outside in the cold because the temperature in their tin homes was even colder.  The homes were dilapidated, and it is hard to imagine driving around Temecula - or southern California for that matter - and finding buildings in such disarray.  

Further north, near the border where Argentina and Brazil meet, I walked the tourist neighborhood of Iguazu Falls.  Just blocks from my hostel, I found run down homes, trash on the streets, and stray animals.  In a community with so many foreign dollars, I was shocked to see the town so unkept.

I very much appreciate driving, walking, and biking around my community knowing I am safe, and I have a home with a warm bed to sleep in a night.

5.  It is good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while.

The final lesson I learned abroad was that getting out of my comfort zone is a good idea.  When I was forced to get on a metro with hundreds of other people, I was taking a risk that someone might pickpocket me.  When I was forced to walk back to my residencia alone, I was taking a risk I might get lost.  When I decided to jump on a bus without a plan, I was taking a risk.  But I learned that everything worked out in the end.  Not everything needs to be planned and some things are better done in the moment.  I certainly have an arsenal of stories to tell family, friends, and prospective study abroad applicants.

The lessons I learned studying abroad will stay with me for the rest of my life.  Exploring a foreign country and making new friends should be a part of everyone’s college experience.  Looking back, my travels in Argentina were a maturing five weeks.  I laughed, got nervous, became scared, rejoiced, danced, and probably had twenty other emotions.  But overall, I think I am better prepared to take on the world around me.  Thanks, Argentina, for teaching me important life lessons in five weeks which would have taken years to learn in “The States.”

P.S. Just for kicks…the beef is amazing in Argentina - and so is the wine.

PTSP

Poop, trash, sidewalks, and pollution.  I have narrowed down the four biggest pet peeves of Buenos Aires.

Poop.  I have yet to look up whether Buenos Aires has a leash law or not, but after walking the streets these past two weeks and seeing many dogs cruising alone, I am guessing there isn’t one; or it isn’t enforced at all.  It is virtually impossible to walk the streets without coming across large piles of dog poop.  Surely, the Argentinians do not like it either, but this is my hypothesis:

Because there is no leash law, the dogs are walking on their own behind the owner.  This allows for the dog to do its business without the owner even knowing.  So, the poop is left on the street for others to pick up or step in.

Trash.  The city streets are covered with filled trash bags, broken trash bags, or simply trash left on the corner.  Food scraps, broken glass, and plastic bags are found at almost every street corner.  It is disgusting to look at, and I can only imagine the smell during the hot summer months.  This situation can not be healthy for the citizens of Buenos Aires or for its visitors, like me.

The really interesting, and frankly confusing, part of all this is Buenos Aires has large dumpsters and small trash bins lining the streets!  Why wont the citizens walk half a block down the street to properly dispose of their trash?  It ruins the potential vibe of the city when anyone must walk around dirty trash on the street.

Sidewalks.  The trash and poop make the sidewalks unpleasant to walk along, but the potholes, cracked concrete, and muddy areas make it dangerous if you are not aware of your footing.  The excess light protruding from storefronts light the sidewalks at night.  Additionally, there are street lights which help.  However, even with all of this light, walking along the city streets at night can be dangerous for your ankles.  

The sidewalks do not flow from one storefront to the other.  It seems like many apartment buildings, markets, and stores poured the concrete which is in front of their real estate.  For example, one hotel may have ‘normal’ grey smooth concrete while the neighboring food market has laid bricks down.  When one of those bricks has cracked because it was poorly installed, it stays that way until the market can replace it.  (If you do not have the time or resources to install something properly, when are you going to have the time and resources to properly install it a second time?)

Pollution.  It comes from cars, cigarettes, and everything else that produces it in mass quantities.  Imagine walking in downtown L.A. with tens of thousands of cars around you spewing fumes from the exhaust pipes.  Now add twice as many smokers strolling from street to street.  It seems I can never get away from it.  During the first week, I thought I had caught something from the plane when my throat became sore.  I realized it was actually the cigarette smoke and car fumes in the air.

Buenos Aires has the potential to be a beautiful city easily navigated by pedestrians, subte users, and taxis alike.  If the government changed the laws to hold dog owners responsible for their pet, enforced littering ordinances, maintained sidewalks, and limited the amount of pollution, I would enjoy traveling around the city a little more.  Of course, pick pocketers and the graffiti would still be there.  That might be another blog post.

Learning About and Exploring Our New City

On what started out as a cold, cloudy, and windy Independence Day in Buenos Aires, the weather kicked up another notch of, “This isn’t San Diego.”  And yes, Nueve de Julio is Buenos Aires’ Independence Day.  Surprisingly, while our housing and schooling staff took the day off, most of the shops around us seemed to be operating as if it wasn’t their national holiday.  The stores lacked national pride, window decorations, and festive music.  Before I write about Caminos y Sabores, I want to break down a few events from the past few days.

Don Julio, Don Julio, and more Don Julio!  If you ever visit Buenos Aires, you must eat a great tasting steak from Don Julio’s Steakhouse on the corner of Guatemala and Thames in the middle class neighborhood of Palermo.  The food was so delicious I had to go back for a second night in a row.  A group of us went out the first night and placed our name on the hour long wait list.  We were treated to complementary champagne as we conversed outside Don Julio.  The hostess then led us through a very narrow front door and up wooden stairs to where we enjoyed a relaxing sit down dinner of various kinds of steaks, fresh vegetables, and piping hot bread with dipping sauces.  The portions were large and the prices were fair.

The second night we reserved a table in advanced knowing how popular this restaurant is.  Again, the food was delicious and the service was splendid.  Don Julio is within 5 blocks from my Residencia, and I will be visiting again for a well cooked dinner and relaxing environment.

Fortunately, for many of the students who enjoy the night life, we are only a short walk away from several local bars and clubs.  This last weekend, we visited many bars where they offered two for one deals, or had pitchers of beer on tap for 30 pesos per person (when you share them with someone).  The scene here does not start ‘hoppin’ until close to 11pm or later.  For someone like me, who likes to start earlier and finish earlier, this has been something to adjust to.  The club scene is decent too.  They play both Spanish and English dance music.  My only complaint is they allow smoking indoors.

While the city streets are filled with trash, dog poop, and broken sidewalks, a short walk across the main street near our Residencia and passed the US Embassy is a lovely mile long loop designed for runners, bicyclists, and various athletes alike.  The loop encompasses grassy areas, a small lake, and a rose garden, which is open six days a week.  Chiloe and I ran around the loop the other morning and encountered paid dog walkers, rollerbladers, and even mounted police.  It is refreshing to just run in an open park without towering buildings all around us.

Our city bus tour was a fantastic way to experience all parts of Buenos Aires.  The chartered bus arrived at our Residencia just before 9am and we all jumped onboard.  The photos from this tour are located on my Facebook page.  We started driving around the city and Guillermo, our study abroad director, thankfully, gave the tour in English.  We passed huge statues, large parks, and tons of history.  My favorite section of the tour was the federal building locations.

The “Pink House” is comparable to our White House in its purpose.  However, the security is much more relaxed and the outside of the building is, obviously, pink.  President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner flies to work every weekday morning from her home in the northern part of the city by helicopter.  Guillermo showed his distaste for her as he said, “She goes to work” with a sarcastic tone.  Next to the Pink House is the National Bank, which is comparable to our Federal Reserve.  Next to that are more federal buildings, but we did not have a chance to walk towards them.

After the federal building excursion, we stopped near the water and crossed a pivotable bridge.  The bridge, located in the wealthiest of areas in Buenos Aires, is supposed to resemble a tango couple dancing.  As a side note, while strolling along the sidewalks in this affluent area, it reminded me of most middle class neighborhoods in California.  You may be thinking, “Why are you focused on the sidewalks?”  Here’s the deal...the sidewalks near our Residencia literally have broken concrete, potholes, and poop all over them.  Let me remind you, we live in the ‘middle class’ area called Palermo.  So, to walk on newly cured and smooth concrete, was very refreshing!  I digressed, but lets return.  The bridge pivots 90 degrees to let passing boats through to exit the port.  This rich area is filled with newly constructed skyscraper apartments and hotels.  Guillermo told us most of the rooms in the apartment buildings are either not lived in, or have not yet been bought.  So, if we are to visit the area at night and see lights on in the building, it is because the building owner turned them on and not because someone is home.  I found it unique.

Right next to this moneyed area is the poorest stretch of Buenos Aires’ population.  I was amazed how quickly the smooth concrete sidewalks turned into dirt paths with trash all over.  The homes, with children and animals playing out front, were destitute.  Clotheslines were strung across the yards, metal trash cans had graffiti all over them, and I can only imagine how cold it is inside the tin homes.  It was in those moments as we drove by poverty stricken children when I truly felt blessed to live in America, and specifically Southern California.

The tour continued and we visited La Recoleta Cemetery, La Boca, a twelve block street market, and drove on the world’s widest avenue.  The cemetery contains Evita’s body which has been moved all around the world over the past several decades.  It has also be tortured in horrible ways.  La Boca is home to Buenos Aires beloved soccer team.  The blue and yellow team colors match the UC System colors!  The street market is known for antique items which were very neat.  One thing I have noticed in this area is that residents of Buenos Aires are very resourceful.  They use materials which were thrown away to make new decorative items.  It seems contradicting why they are so far behind on the environmental conservation part if they seem to reuse many materials which were once thrown away.  The widest avenue was under construction as the busing system was being revamped.

Caminos y Sabores is comparable to the Del Mar fair, or any large venue with tons of vendors.  Inside a huge convention center were thousands of Argentinians spending their Independence Day drinking wine and beer, eating freshly sliced cheeses and meats, and of course shopping.  It cost 50 pesos to enter the facility and more money to buy goods.  We took advantage of the free samples, just like Costco!

As we finished walking around the convention center, we noticed leaks in the roof which meant it was raining outside.  Luckily, our Residencia was only a few short blocks away.  We braved the cold rain, at the expense of our shoes and socks, and quickly made our way back to our rooms.

We just returned from a two day bus trip where we made stops in Carlos Casares and Chivilcoy.  Los Grobos welcomed our class to their soybean, wheat, and pasta facilities.  Although the presentation was in Spanish, I learned a lot about the soybean industry and why it is so important for Los Grobos to diversify their company to deal with Argentina’s poor and short sighted economic policies.

This coming week is filled with more travels, and I hope to add another blog post soon.

Hope all is well back in the US.

Cuevas, Tango, and McCafe?

The room I share in our Residencia is much smaller than the room I lived in at UCSD this past year.  It is about eleven feet long and six and a half feet wide with two beds, two armoires for clothes, and one very small useless table.  The table is awkwardly placed next to the gas heater, which we have yet figured out how to turn off due to a broken knob.  The ceilings are at least twenty feet tall; more than necessary. We also have a large ceiling fan which other rooms lack.  There is a fifteen inch Philips' television which we have not used.  (Why would you come to another country to watch television?)  Our door does not fit inside the door jam properly, so, we have to slam it shut - even if it is late at night.

My bed, however, is relatively comfortable.  I do miss my memory foam pillow back in Temecula because this one here is thin and lumpy.  The nice old lady I mentioned in my first post, who let me in, also cleans our room every other day.  I was very surprised and very appreciative to return to my room and have the bed made.  I am even more appreciative of the EPA in the US because her cleaning supplies literally smell like diesel fuel.  Opening the one window and door while using the fan seems to help circulate clean air back into our room.

Our bathroom, which includes a toilet, sink, and shower, is so small I can extend my arms and touch each wall if I chose to.  The tiles in the bathroom are slightly chipped and the grout looks like a four year old won the contract to do the finishing work.  Something that is very different here in Buenos Aires compared to the United States is the fluctuation in water temperature while taking a shower.  I’m use to a slight temperature change when somewhere else uses the toilet in another room, or the gradual decrease in temperature as the hot water heater runs out.  After the first two minutes of my relaxing shower, the temperature dropped 50 degrees and I was trapped in a stream of arctic flow.  Okay, it wasn’t that dramatic.  But when I readjusted the hot water knob to return to a normal shower temperature, I overcorrected and suddenly the hot water burned my skin.

Our one window faces a courtyard which lacks natural sunlight.  Additionally, both the door and window have linen covers over the glass components preventing the minimal light available from entering our room.  This has made adjusting to the time change more difficult.  On the second morning here, I woke up around noon.  I was just in time for the lunch provided on the fourth floor by our friendly cook, Maria.

I can only remember Maria’s name because she has been the most accepting of my lack of Spanish language.  The other cook, while cordial, gives me a strange look when I enter the kitchen.  Anyway, I ate a lunch composed of starches and Argentinian beef, and headed back downstairs to get ready for my next challenge.

There are two exchange rates here in Argentina.  The official and legal exchange rate is somewhere around one US Dollar = 5.35 Argentinian Pesos.  To exchange money at this rate, citizens with US currency or a debit card can walk into any bank and ask for pesos.  The other exchange rate is not recognized or advertised by the Argentina government.  This rate is called the “Blue Dollar” which is around one US Dollar = 7.65 Argentinian Pesos.  To exchange money at this rate, you have to either meet an “arbolito” who will take you to a cueva, or know someone with pesos willing to trade at the Blue Dollar rate.  To better understand the reason for the Blue Dollar, you can read this article.  It is important to understand that cuevas can be shut down by the government because they are not exactly legal.  Before coming to Argentina, I was advised to bring fresh US currency in $100 bills.  Additionally, I was given cross streets and the name of a cueva owner.  So the journey began to find the cueva and determine if the Blue Dollar really existed.

My roommate and I trekked five streets south and then seven blocks east, which took about twenty minutes.  We found the ice cream shop with green awnings which was supposed to be next to the cueva, but we couldn’t find the actual cueva.  We dawdled to the right and found an empty building where new construction was taking place.  Then we prowled to the other side of the ice cream shop.  Still, it looked like the ice cream shop continued.  After looking more closely, we noticed a second door with currency in the window.  We buzzed the bell and the door unlocked.  

Not knowing what to expect, we slowly walked in and found a small room with two teller booths; similar to what you would find at a bank.  My roommate and I strolled up to one window together and the teller knew exactly what we wanted when we displayed our US currency.  We exchanged the US currency at the Blue Dollar rate and quickly left the building.  I said to Brian, “Don’t you feel accomplished?  We just exchanged currency at a great rate!”  He replied, “Yeah, but that was kind of sketch.”  My thoughts were, “yeah, but damn, we did it!”  I still feel accomplished that I was able to travel 6,000 miles to another country, maneuver through unfamiliar city streets, find a cueva, communicate with a teller, and exchange currency at the Blue Dollar rate!  Although cuevas are looked down upon by the government, I did see a federal police officer walk out of the back as if he got a cut of the profits.  So there has to be something else going on behind the teller windows.

I strutted back to our Residencia to change clothes and prepare for our Tango class later that night.

The seven students who live in the same Residencia as I rendezvoused with the rest of our study abroad group and guide to board city bus #36.  With standing room only, we jumped on the heavily graffitied bus and packed in like sardines.  The bus went east, then south, then east again.  I thought, “Boy, I should have paid closer attention to where the bus turned incase I need to get back on my own, or without a guide.”  If you read my first post, you’ll remember the driving style here in Buenos Aires is crazy.  The bus driver was the same way!  He even blocked off the entire cross street as we drove though an intersection because he didn’t want to wait for the light to cycle through again.  After 15 minutes of driving, we arrived at the bus stop closest to the Tango club.

We hiked up a long flight of stairs to a second level with hardwood floors and very dim lighting.  It looked more like an entrance into a scary movie than into a Tango dance club.  Ushered around a corner where we met up with our professor and his friend, our group entered a large room with black and white checkered tiles.  We conversed about various events while the previous group finished their lesson.  

The tango instructors led us into the dance room where the lighting was very dim and tango music played throughout the room.  There was a stage where a band could perform, but our music was being played from an iPod of some sort.  All the students formed a circle to stretch and warm up, similar to my high school marching band experience.  There was one female and one male instructor, but only the male could speak broken English.  They discussed the importance of balance and how to properly transfer your weight.  Man, this sounds just like marching band!  Lo and behold, we started to do an exercises directly from my high school rehearsals.  Nailed it!  Then I paired up with Cynthia where we tried to tango in a circle.  The male instructor could tell we needed some extra instruction, so he grabbed me and let me feel what a girl was supposed to feel like during the dance.  This sounds a little weird, but it was exactly what I needed.  It is too difficult to describe in words what I felt, but it allowed me to differentiate between small steps to either the left or right, or large movements altogether and properly lead the woman dancer.  It has everything to do with the weight change while dancing.

The class separated into guys and gals while we learned the next steps to the tango.  Most of the time our instructor spoke in Spanish, so I didn’t have a clue what he was saying.  However, I carefully watched and tried to emulate his fluid movements.  The guys and gals paired up again to put the two gender specific elements together to form the true tango.  I danced with Chiloe and a few other female students while we practiced the tango and really enjoyed this region specific and time honored tradition.  Our instructors performed for us which was a perfect way to culminate the night.

Just as my goosebumps subsided from their performance, I realized our guide wasn’t in the room.  Oh no, my fear from earlier was coming true!  The other students and professor couldn’t find the guide and we started to figure out how to get back.  However, none of us had the proper coins needed to ride the city bus.  When we walked out of the dance room, we saw our guide patiently waiting on a wooden bench.  Thank goodness!  He chuckled at the thought of leaving us on the other side of the city to fend for ourselves.  

We boarded the #36 bus again and drove back to our Residencia.

If dancing wasn’t a great way to spend the night, the UCSD students in my Residencia met up with other US students to continue the festivities at one of the local bars.  We traveled down J.L. Borges Street to Tazz Bar.  They had beer, mixed drinks, and food we could order along with eight pool tables.  For 30 pesos, I split a pitcher of some Argentinian beer with Gerardo.  I’m not a beer connoisseur but this beer was nothing to be proud of.  To compare it to a familiar US beer, Coors Light or Keystone would best match it.  Our group of UCSD students played pool for 15 pesos a game, consumed more drinks, and talked about how I don’t know Spanish.  I started listing off the words I knew.  Surprisingly, I remembered quite a few from high school Spanish, but they were useless without being able to put them into a phrase.

Around 1 am, we walked for twenty minutes back to our Residencia.  There were two sketchy looking fellas outside our place, so in my adrenaline filled state, I accidentally slammed the metal door closed.  It was a little loud, but we all had a good laugh at it and went to bed.

The next day, I woke up late and grabbed the tail end of the meatloaf lunch being served upstairs.  I then bought a Subte pass which will allow me to swipe a card at the subway station rather than buying an individual ticket each time.  Around 2:30 PM, there are not many people traveling around the city.  We went to class via the Subte and felt pretty safe.

For the 30 minute break, I went to McCafe and ordered two croissants for twelve pesos.  You may be thinking, “McCafe sounds familiar.”  You would be correct.  I went to McDonalds.  However, McCafe was similar to a Starbucks; it was just inside a McDonalds.  I struggled to pronounce croissant with a Spanish accent and the girl taking my order giggled but knew what I wanted.  My classmates and I headed back to the ISA building for the remainder of the class.

Buenos Aires is a completely different world.  The language, transportation, food, air quality; it’s all different.  I am beginning to feel more comfortable as I walk around the city.  I have learned which way the Subte runs and how to properly navigate it, as well as how to get to the much needed cueva.  Meal times in Argentina are both much earlier and later.  For example, breakfast is served from 6am to 9am and dinner starts at 8pm.  As my body finally adjusts to the new time zone, new meal schedule, and new lifestyle altogether, I look forward to exploring the city and surrounding countries over the next several weeks.

It is Independence Day in the US and about time to go out for some American festivities.  I left North America, but living in South America still counts, right?  I’ll leave you all with a few pictures from the past few days.  Ciao!

 Getting drinks and playing pool at Tazzbars

View from the plane

View from the plane

Tracking the plane as we fly across the globe

First meal in the Residencia

Lunch at the Residencia

Out for drinks

Professor Wiasman and Tango Instructor

Heading the the other group's Residencia

Streets of Buenos Aires during the day

Art in the Tango Club 

Tango Instructor

Streets of Buenos Aires at night

Taking on Buenos Aires...well maybe not just yet.

I'm not sure how blogs work, but I am going to give this a try.

My first day in Buenos Aires, Argentina started when I landed at EZE after a ten hour, relatively smooth, flight from IAH (Houston, TX).  As I grabbed my carryon item and backpack, filled with an extra set of clothes just in case my luggage was lost, I fought the lasting effects of sleeping pills and six hours of sleep.  As I rolled my luggage off the airplane and into the 39 degree terminal, I felt accomplished for completing my longest flight ever!  That special feeling soon ended while getting my passport stamped.  

The language barrier is real, folks!  I strolled up to window number seven rolling my two suitcases behind me, and the immigration officer said something to me very quickly.  I assumed she wanted to see my passport and for me to place my thumb onto the scanner.  She made a comment to the male officer next to her...again, I have no idea what she said.  Then she waved her hand, signaling me to take my hat off.  I complied, and then she said another phrase.  I said both verbally and visually, "I'm not sure what you said."  This is the exact moment when my feeling of accomplishment vanished.  The immigration officer stamped my passport, looked at me and said with attitude, "Thank you.  Bye."

I walked around the corner and found Transfer Express, which is the taxi company my study abroad program made a reservation with.  I found myself speaking very broken Spanish when I reached the reservation counter.  My name was highlighted on the computer screen and I pointed to it.  A Transfer Express representative guided me to my taxi driver and introduced us.  "Hola, me llamo, Kevin."  Finally, something that sounds similar to high school Spanish pops out of my mouth!  I said, "Gracias" to the representative and loaded my luggage into the taxi.

The small manual chevrolet reminded me of the United States when I saw the Chevy symbol on the steering wheel.  But the taxi driver was listening to a talk show on the radio, so I could not understand most of the conversation.  It sounded political or economical in nature because the radio show hosts were talking about the "blue" dollar.  Who knows though?  It may have just been part of the everyday jabber.  We started to leave the airport and my once calm nerves jumped into overdrive!  This man had the worst road rage I had ever seen!  He wasn't yelling, but tailgating the car in front of us by five inches while driving 80 km/hr made me put a hole into his floorboard where the break pedal should have been.  I thought about my time driving in Los Angeles back home, but this made LA look like child's play.  Cars all over the freeway disregard the painted lanes; tailgated each other by mear inches; cut one another off; blasted horns; and doing all of this at very high speeds.  (I live in California...I know what fast driving looks like!)

I needed to do something to take my mind off the death defying driving which was taking place on the Buenos Aires freeways.  I took a sip of my cool water and put my sunglasses on so the driver could not read my body language.  Then the strangest thing happend. A-cappella voices singing eighth notes started playing on the radio; it was the Glee version of Don't Stop Believing.  I started lip-syncing right after the guitar solo played, "A singer in a smokey room.  A smell of wine and cheap perfume."  What the heck was Glee's version of Don't Stop Believing doing playing on the radio in Buenos Aires, Argentina?  Whatever the reason, it definitely took my mind off the horrendous and dangerous driving I was trying to mentally avoid.

I pulled up to my Residencia and unloaded my bags from the taxi trunk.  I uttered, "gracias" to the driver and wandered into the building.  This friendly old woman stood at the top of the stairs which faced me as I opened the very narrow door.  “Hola, lkaskjhs fshsois shfalkal.”  Oh no, the language barrier returned!  After replying back with “hola,” I looked at her with the biggest confused face I had ever made.  Fortunately, she knew I was supposed to be arriving later than the rest of my group, so she concluded my name was Kevin and that I was staying in room 401.  She knocked on the door and my roommate, Bryan Campos, opened the door.  Thank goodness Bryan could translate the very intimidating, and newer, Spanish language into a more comprehendible English.  I introduced myself to Bryan and had an overwhelming sense of relief knowing he understood me and that I could understand him.  

After unpacking my suitcases and signing forms, which were in Spanish where the language barrier returned to show its ugly face, I met my neighbors and fellow study abroad classmates.  We went upstairs to the fourth floor for lunch.  The food was very basic; vegetables, fruit, and water. However, the advice I received from my classmates was frightening.  Tips to avoid becoming a pickpocketing victim; advice to only speak Spanish in public; and stories about how the Subte (subway) can be a dangerous place for inattentive travelers were some of the topics discussed at lunch.  I returned to room 401 to grab my laptop and notebooks as we headed to meet with Guillermo, our Study Abroad Program Director.

Our small group of seven cautiously walked four blocks to meet up with the other two-thirds of our group and we were guided to the Subte, by Guillermo. Our Program Director swiped his Subte pass for all the students and led us down the stairs to our new form of transportation.  Doors on the green cars slid open and we all jumped on.  We travelled three stations to the north and exited; all without murmuring a single word of English.  Making sure to keep up with the Director on the busy and hectic streets of Buenos Aires, we reached our destination.  The I.S.A. office, where the study abroad program learning facilities are located, is very inconspicuous.  Located in between two store fronts, we buzzed up to the second floor and were let into the building.

Professor Waisman introduced himself and the two courses we will be taking.  Then each student introduced him or herself.  I was one of the only students, if not the only one, who had never travelled outside the United States.  The class was released to go on a short coffee break.  Four classmates strolled down around the corner to a cafe named, Forrest Gump.  It had absolutely nothing to do with the movie with Tom Hanks we all know and love, but the wall decorations consisted of black and white photos of actors and actresses from the late 40s’, 50s’, and early 60s’.  Our professor walked in just a few minutes later and joined us.  Professor Waisman offered to buy me and another student a coffee, which was exceedingly kind.  The extremely caffeinated drink was very much needed as we headed back to the I.S.A. building just in time for class to resume.  We discussed and hypothesized why certain countries were rich, and why others were poor.  Globalization and Social Development - seems like it will be an intriguing class.

Our class finished and I decided to walk back to our Residencia with five girls instead of taking the Subte.  The three mile walk was not that bad as I look back on it now, however, in the moment, it seemed super sketchy.  The sun sets much earlier in the day because we are in the Southern Hemisphere, so it was dark when we finished class around 6:40pm.  The streets were lively with pedestrian traffic, cars whizzing passed us, and stray dogs cruising the streets.  We stopped at a few stores to look at maps of Buenos Aires, gluten-free food, and elephant trinkets, but ultimately made it back to our Residencia safely.  In fact, because my Residencia was located four blocks away from the others’, the five girls walked ME home! (it was definitely a first)  I was just following directions from my sister to never walk alone.

The shower with hot water was exactly what I needed after traveling from San Diego to Houston to Buenos Aires, and then exploring my new home for the next five weeks.  While I was hoping to take more photos of the city and act like a tourist, I am waiting until I feel more comfortable and safe to use my GoPro or iPhone in public.

The language barrier absolutely deflated my confidence at first.  However, as I explore the city and ask my classmates, “como se dice [blank] en espanol?”, I am beginning to pick up a few phrases to help safely maneuver my new home.

I think this is a good stopping point for my blog.  I’ll try to update it as time permits.  Remember, I’m here to study, not write on and on about my awesome time in a foreign country where the water in the toilet drains in the opposite direction!  Anyway, Mom, Colleen, Kal, and Lana, I miss you.  Colleen, I hope your Sea Life Adventure birthday party went well.  To my buddies in Temecula, look for the Instagram hashtag we talked about!

To everyone who read my first post: Thanks!