Well, once again I arrived at the Teatro Astral with my dance shoes and cough drops, all warmed up despite the wet and chilly weather outside. This time there definitely were auditions going on as there were tons of tiny girls and flouncy boys running around in rehearsal wear. I could taste the nerves in the lobby air, and they tasted just like the ones that buzz around my belly in auditions north of the Equator. And just like so many of those, today's audition was behind schedule. But because its South America, the disorganization, like everything else down here, was only magnified! So they told me and everybody else in my group to come back NEXT TUESDAY and MAYBE we'll get in to audition. So its just another week of waiting, building anticipation, and memorizing Spanish lyrics. I suppose I can do that.
But instead of going back to class, which I'd already resolved not to do today, I went exploring downtown in the light rain, had lunch at a cafe, and stumbled upon El Ateneo, an old opera house converted into a huge and lavishly gorgeous bookstore. Gold embellishments all up and down the cream colored walls, a mural of goddesses and angels in the expansive rotunda hovering overhead, a rich red curtain shading the old stage area that now acts as a cafe, and my favorite, comfy armchairs in the areas that used to serve as opera boxes for anyone to settle in and read the hours away... which is exactly what I did! My reading in Spanish has gotten so fast, and yet still I managed to sit there for over 4 hours. The afternoon was far from wasted in my opinion.
So that's how my today went. Come to think of it I should really recount my weekend too!
I spent Saturday and Sunday in Rosario, the third largest city in Argentina that lies a few hours Northwest of Buenos Aires on the Rio Parana. It's the birthplace of renown Argentine revolutionaries Che Guevara and Leo Messi, and it was lovely. It still retains the busy beat of a big city but is so much more laid back and friendly than the monstrous BsAs (honestly I think any city by comparison would be). I hypothesize that the calm amicability of the city is due to its cool refreshing breezes from the river, but being a SoCal native I tend to invest tranquil qualities in large bodies of water, so I'm kinda biased.
We arrived Saturday afternoon much later than scheduled due to a strike on the highways that forced our bus to take an alternate route, turning a 2 hour drive into a 5 hour one. We lunched at a tenedor libre, or as we know it in the States a buffet, and lazed away our resulting food coma on a cruise on the river. On the little islands and marshes across from the city, we floated by kyakers, fisherman, amigos drinking mate, a few dilapidated houses that I'm sure still serve as someone's shelter, and herds of cows grazing freely on the river banks... what a life, huh?
Saturday evening us girls went out for imitation Mexican food and margaritas... eran no buenas, lamentablemente. And Sunday we went on a bus tour of the city, seeing the view of the skyline from the great silver suspension bridge, the tiny fresh fish markets, and finally we ended at El Monumento de la Bandera, a gargantuous tribute to the place where was raised the first flag of Argentina. It is an awe striking, jaw dropping, neck craning, camera flashing, cartwheeling down the multitude of steps (which yes of course I did!) kind of beautiful that simply dwarfs any kind of artistic achievement you think you may have had in your lifetime. Plus it was a stunningly gorgeous day with lots of sunshine, so we wandered through the monument and over to the parks on the riverbank where city people were gathering for picnics and kites alongside the many artisan street vendors. That's one of the things that I've decided I really do love about city life. Cities are so populated, so concentrated with people that its impossible to live in one and not be social! You share all the same space! You can't dry your laundry on the balcony without your neighbors knowing what kind of underwear you prefer. And if you wanna get out of the house, enjoy the weekend sun, walk your cooped up dog, then you go to the city parks! It's like everyone shares the same backyard! In the suburbs you can exist solitarily for weeks or months on end without ever talking to your neighbors. I mean privacy is great... but so is human interaction!
I bought a necklace from a Rasta named Chaman, and ended up sitting a chatting with him for about an hour. He told me about how he spends all the money he makes selling his jewelry, traveling around with his reggae band, but that he still loves to come home to his little hut on the bank of the Parana inside the Rosario nature preserve. He also told me that the stones in the necklace I bought symbolize friendship and protection. Well, maybe its a little late in my travels to attain such assurance, but at least now I have a token of international friendship that'll forever harken my memory to the immensity of good fortune I've been doused with down here. What more could I ask for??
(hmmm... well on second thought maybe just a little punctuality??)
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Back in Action!
Remember in my last entry how I said that I really miss performing??
Well, I think Providence heard me complaining and decided to do something about it.
Last Thursday my oh-so-friendly-tango-teach pulled me aside in class for what I was anticipating would be a terribly uncomfortable chat, when he told me about a musical theatre audition that he'd heard about and thought I'd be interested in. Oh! Well... now he just went and did something really cool and while I want to not like the guy I gotta say......GAAAAH! THANK YOU!!
The show is Dracula el musical written by Angel Mahler and directed by Pepito Cibrian, two pretty big deals down here aparently. Think Andrew Lloyd Webber and Cameron Mackinosh of South America... YEAH! And all I know is the address of the theatre and to show up sometime between 12:00pm and 8:00pm this Monday thru Thursday. So basically, this is a total absolute shot in the dark. I mean, I haven't had a voice lesson or a gym membership in 4 months, I don't have any of my audition materials, repertoire, or wardrobe, and I have like 2 days to prepare but no clue what I'm preparing for! OH, and did I mention its obviously all in Spanish???
...Thus went all my initial fears and doubts scurring about my brain in sudden reckless anxiety.
Then I said to myself, "Kelly?"
"Yes?" I answered.
"If you could describe your dream job, what would it be?"
"Pssh! That's easy Kelly! It would be performing in musical theatre all around the world!"
"You're crazy! Where's the money in that??"
"Um, excuse me, it's all about artistic fulfillment..."
"Oh please..."
"You shut up! Don't get me started..."
But I digress.
Basically I realized that the reason I'd come all this way was staring me in the face and there was no ignoring or walking away from it. I mean, it's not like I have anything to lose. I have no reputation to uphold or face to save. I have a plethora of audition songs I've memorized by way of busting them out in my car in LA traffic. And I now own a pair of genuine Argentine leather tango shoes perfect for onstage dancing. I can find a way to make this work.
So, I collected my headshots, translated my resume, downloaded some sheet music for an old go-to favorite, and dusted off the vocal chords while the family was out (our walls are very thin... if the neighbors heard of me as much as I can hear of them... we may start receiving hate mail).
Today was the big day! It was Dia del Estudiante, Student's Day, so we all had the day off of classes, which pretty much the entire city took advantage of because also it was the first day of Spring, Dia de la Primavera, where everyone buys each other fresh flowers and hangs out in the Palermo parks to drink mate and cerveza with friends (ps. I love this country's social life!). I, however, like a well honed Bachelor's-of-Theatre-Arts-holding LA actor spent the day trekking around my barrio printing out photos and sheet music, doing my yoga and vocal excercizes, and picking out the perfect audition outfit (a feat only made more difficult by the reduced selection in my closet). I even treated myself to a cab ride downtown so I could arrive in style.
OOOOOOOOooooooooh even if I tried, I couldn't describe just how legitimate I felt chattin with the cabby as we weaved thru the traffic, I becoming more exhilarated and nervous with every second. It was the perfect my-life-in-the-big-city-movie-moment.
When we got to the theatre, I thanked the cabby for his well wishes and donned my game face, only to be told that they just wanted my headshot and audition form and to give me an appointment time to come back next week for the actual audition.
Oh.
Well, I give myself props for being TOO prepared on TWO days notice at least. The actual audition itself doesn't even require us to come with a song prepared. We'll be given a peice from the show to learn and rehearse briefly before singing it one at a time. And did I mention that we'll be singing for Cibrian and Mahler themselves? Personally?? Even Sofi and Ana were like "Wha!? You're gonna meet Pepito Cibrian in person???" Well.... aparently. It will probably go down in the books as the ballsyiest/coolest thing I've ever done. : /
Honestly, even though I didn't even DO any audition today, just the getting prepared and psyching myself out and downing tea and cough drops and practicing slating in Spanish was SO REFRESHING! I just love acting like an actor again!
Well, I think Providence heard me complaining and decided to do something about it.
Last Thursday my oh-so-friendly-tango-teach pulled me aside in class for what I was anticipating would be a terribly uncomfortable chat, when he told me about a musical theatre audition that he'd heard about and thought I'd be interested in. Oh! Well... now he just went and did something really cool and while I want to not like the guy I gotta say......GAAAAH! THANK YOU!!
The show is Dracula el musical written by Angel Mahler and directed by Pepito Cibrian, two pretty big deals down here aparently. Think Andrew Lloyd Webber and Cameron Mackinosh of South America... YEAH! And all I know is the address of the theatre and to show up sometime between 12:00pm and 8:00pm this Monday thru Thursday. So basically, this is a total absolute shot in the dark. I mean, I haven't had a voice lesson or a gym membership in 4 months, I don't have any of my audition materials, repertoire, or wardrobe, and I have like 2 days to prepare but no clue what I'm preparing for! OH, and did I mention its obviously all in Spanish???
...Thus went all my initial fears and doubts scurring about my brain in sudden reckless anxiety.
Then I said to myself, "Kelly?"
"Yes?" I answered.
"If you could describe your dream job, what would it be?"
"Pssh! That's easy Kelly! It would be performing in musical theatre all around the world!"
"You're crazy! Where's the money in that??"
"Um, excuse me, it's all about artistic fulfillment..."
"Oh please..."
"You shut up! Don't get me started..."
But I digress.
Basically I realized that the reason I'd come all this way was staring me in the face and there was no ignoring or walking away from it. I mean, it's not like I have anything to lose. I have no reputation to uphold or face to save. I have a plethora of audition songs I've memorized by way of busting them out in my car in LA traffic. And I now own a pair of genuine Argentine leather tango shoes perfect for onstage dancing. I can find a way to make this work.
So, I collected my headshots, translated my resume, downloaded some sheet music for an old go-to favorite, and dusted off the vocal chords while the family was out (our walls are very thin... if the neighbors heard of me as much as I can hear of them... we may start receiving hate mail).
Today was the big day! It was Dia del Estudiante, Student's Day, so we all had the day off of classes, which pretty much the entire city took advantage of because also it was the first day of Spring, Dia de la Primavera, where everyone buys each other fresh flowers and hangs out in the Palermo parks to drink mate and cerveza with friends (ps. I love this country's social life!). I, however, like a well honed Bachelor's-of-Theatre-Arts-holding LA actor spent the day trekking around my barrio printing out photos and sheet music, doing my yoga and vocal excercizes, and picking out the perfect audition outfit (a feat only made more difficult by the reduced selection in my closet). I even treated myself to a cab ride downtown so I could arrive in style.
OOOOOOOOooooooooh even if I tried, I couldn't describe just how legitimate I felt chattin with the cabby as we weaved thru the traffic, I becoming more exhilarated and nervous with every second. It was the perfect my-life-in-the-big-city-movie-moment.
When we got to the theatre, I thanked the cabby for his well wishes and donned my game face, only to be told that they just wanted my headshot and audition form and to give me an appointment time to come back next week for the actual audition.
Oh.
Well, I give myself props for being TOO prepared on TWO days notice at least. The actual audition itself doesn't even require us to come with a song prepared. We'll be given a peice from the show to learn and rehearse briefly before singing it one at a time. And did I mention that we'll be singing for Cibrian and Mahler themselves? Personally?? Even Sofi and Ana were like "Wha!? You're gonna meet Pepito Cibrian in person???" Well.... aparently. It will probably go down in the books as the ballsyiest/coolest thing I've ever done. : /
Honestly, even though I didn't even DO any audition today, just the getting prepared and psyching myself out and downing tea and cough drops and practicing slating in Spanish was SO REFRESHING! I just love acting like an actor again!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Mascaras en Fuga
I went to another very interesting piece of theatre today.
My teacher from Central de Integracion Teatral, Geraldine dramaturged and starred in this a show centered around masks in yet another hole-in-the-wall-wouldn't-even-know-it-was-there-unless-you-already-knew-it-was-there theatre in Palermo. I always feel super legit finding places like that!
It takes place on a train, not in any specific location, but a space and time in transit.
The train attendant, wearing a half mask that covers all his face except his mouth and chin, wanders up and down the stage calling out in gibberish language (when wearing a mask, you always speak as an extranjero, not as yourself).
A girl (played by Geraldine, mi maestra!) with wildly unkempt hair carefully obscuring her face, enters nervously carrying a red tote and sits down. The man, obviously enamored, takes her ticket and in an elongated aside to the audience rehearses how to give her a flower as a token of his adoration in the form of a mimed dance! Unfortunately for him when the lights change back to reality, the girl has skirted the train car leaving her seat now empty. He leaves her rose resting there awaiting her return.
An old man (also played by Geraldine) enters with a full face mask that obscures both eyes and mouth, shuffles up and down the ailses against the simulated motion of the train and finally comes to rest on the opposite bench from where the girl was just sitting. He too carries a familiar red tote. The train attendant asks the trembling old man for his passport and examines it scrupulously, then his train ticket which the poor man can't seem to find in his pockets. When the attendant has his back turned away, the old man hurriedly shuffles off in the same direction as the girl previously.
The attendant is enraged and rushes off in search of the little old freeloader. In his absence, a suave business man (Geraldine again!) in a suit, scarf, and another full face mask enters the scene confidently, again with a red tote, and sits in the girl's seat next to the rose. Intrigued, he picks it up, examines it, and smugly tucks it into his lapel. The attendant, obviously disgruntled, reenters and demands to see the business man's passport and ticket. The business man then presents to him, perhaps a bit too confidently, the passport of the tremulous little old man! Now aware that he has an imposter on board, the attendant struggles to subdue him, but just as their fight reaches its climax, the train crashes to a screeching halt. Blackout.
Lights up. Police sirens. The imposter has escaped and the attendant holds a newspaper (clever written in gibberish language... gotta love attention to details!) with the hairy girl's photo on the front page. She is a fugitive. As he reads, a very attractive oriental woman (Geraldine, obvio!) in full face mask, with a tell tale mangy mess of hair enters and immediately obscures herself with a large fan. Obviously she has caught the suspicious eye of the attendant, but she proceeds to do a seductive dance with her fan to distract his attention. He isn't fooled. The girl sees the futility of her actions and decides to abandone them and ceremoniously removes the oriental mask. Her true face however, is still completely obcured by her hair. The attendant tries to cuff her, but realizes he just can't. His initial feelings for her still linger. Then in another almost ritualistic dance, he removes his mask and she replaces it with a black fabric cap that covers his whole head. She dons one as well and for a fleeting shared moment the two are utterly faceless. Then, he gives her his guise, she assumes his identity and marches out of the train car, abandoning the solitary disoriented attendant who lost his identity to love.
Only seconds later though... she returns! She can't do it either! She returns his face, which he in turn, lays to rest with hers in her red tote, and together the two of them turn upstage, remove their last and final masks obscuring their real selves from the outside world, and exit triumphantly hand in hand.
Mascaras en Fuga, Masks in flight.
It was interesting to see how many ways of masking were used: actual masks, hair, caps, fan, simply turning away from the audience. I took it as a representation of the multiple layers of deception and protection that we build up and envelop ourselves in on a daily basis, letting only a select few past those barrier walls. Also just how many guises one person can don. Geraldine played one character, who moreover assumed the character of 4 other masks on top of that. How challenging to play a character within a character, and constantly changing the identity which is obscuring the identity which you are already affecting artificially!
There's also the question of flight, fleeing, being a fugitive. What is it that we all are running and hiding from? Reality? Honesty? Ourselves? What is it about our true faces that so offend?
I don a mask everyday. It's true, even in comfortable settings, but especially so in my life down here. I pretend to be a local who knows her way around every time I leave the house. Los portenos all maintain a very serious facade on the streets, no smiling almost ever, despite how openly emotional they are among amigos y familia. I admit, sometimes its exhausting to constantly work for obscuring the identity I carry with me, that was forged in another land and lifestyle. I do feel like I'm living an alternate life sometimes, like I'm not who I am back home. That person doesn't fit into the world down here as snugly as she does up there. I'm figuring that by the time this extended acting excercise is coming to an end, my transformation will have become complete and I will not know exactly how to discard my Argentine self upon returning to my own homebase. I've been desperately missing the stage, and the exhilaration of rehearsal and performance and audience... but I've just now realized that I am performing everyday, for everyone that I meet. This could be the most valuable and challenging role I've ever played.
Hmmmm.... I wonder if I could put portena on my resume??
My teacher from Central de Integracion Teatral, Geraldine dramaturged and starred in this a show centered around masks in yet another hole-in-the-wall-wouldn't-even-know-it-was-there-unless-you-already-knew-it-was-there theatre in Palermo. I always feel super legit finding places like that!
It takes place on a train, not in any specific location, but a space and time in transit.
The train attendant, wearing a half mask that covers all his face except his mouth and chin, wanders up and down the stage calling out in gibberish language (when wearing a mask, you always speak as an extranjero, not as yourself).
A girl (played by Geraldine, mi maestra!) with wildly unkempt hair carefully obscuring her face, enters nervously carrying a red tote and sits down. The man, obviously enamored, takes her ticket and in an elongated aside to the audience rehearses how to give her a flower as a token of his adoration in the form of a mimed dance! Unfortunately for him when the lights change back to reality, the girl has skirted the train car leaving her seat now empty. He leaves her rose resting there awaiting her return.
An old man (also played by Geraldine) enters with a full face mask that obscures both eyes and mouth, shuffles up and down the ailses against the simulated motion of the train and finally comes to rest on the opposite bench from where the girl was just sitting. He too carries a familiar red tote. The train attendant asks the trembling old man for his passport and examines it scrupulously, then his train ticket which the poor man can't seem to find in his pockets. When the attendant has his back turned away, the old man hurriedly shuffles off in the same direction as the girl previously.
The attendant is enraged and rushes off in search of the little old freeloader. In his absence, a suave business man (Geraldine again!) in a suit, scarf, and another full face mask enters the scene confidently, again with a red tote, and sits in the girl's seat next to the rose. Intrigued, he picks it up, examines it, and smugly tucks it into his lapel. The attendant, obviously disgruntled, reenters and demands to see the business man's passport and ticket. The business man then presents to him, perhaps a bit too confidently, the passport of the tremulous little old man! Now aware that he has an imposter on board, the attendant struggles to subdue him, but just as their fight reaches its climax, the train crashes to a screeching halt. Blackout.
Lights up. Police sirens. The imposter has escaped and the attendant holds a newspaper (clever written in gibberish language... gotta love attention to details!) with the hairy girl's photo on the front page. She is a fugitive. As he reads, a very attractive oriental woman (Geraldine, obvio!) in full face mask, with a tell tale mangy mess of hair enters and immediately obscures herself with a large fan. Obviously she has caught the suspicious eye of the attendant, but she proceeds to do a seductive dance with her fan to distract his attention. He isn't fooled. The girl sees the futility of her actions and decides to abandone them and ceremoniously removes the oriental mask. Her true face however, is still completely obcured by her hair. The attendant tries to cuff her, but realizes he just can't. His initial feelings for her still linger. Then in another almost ritualistic dance, he removes his mask and she replaces it with a black fabric cap that covers his whole head. She dons one as well and for a fleeting shared moment the two are utterly faceless. Then, he gives her his guise, she assumes his identity and marches out of the train car, abandoning the solitary disoriented attendant who lost his identity to love.
Only seconds later though... she returns! She can't do it either! She returns his face, which he in turn, lays to rest with hers in her red tote, and together the two of them turn upstage, remove their last and final masks obscuring their real selves from the outside world, and exit triumphantly hand in hand.
Mascaras en Fuga, Masks in flight.
It was interesting to see how many ways of masking were used: actual masks, hair, caps, fan, simply turning away from the audience. I took it as a representation of the multiple layers of deception and protection that we build up and envelop ourselves in on a daily basis, letting only a select few past those barrier walls. Also just how many guises one person can don. Geraldine played one character, who moreover assumed the character of 4 other masks on top of that. How challenging to play a character within a character, and constantly changing the identity which is obscuring the identity which you are already affecting artificially!
There's also the question of flight, fleeing, being a fugitive. What is it that we all are running and hiding from? Reality? Honesty? Ourselves? What is it about our true faces that so offend?
I don a mask everyday. It's true, even in comfortable settings, but especially so in my life down here. I pretend to be a local who knows her way around every time I leave the house. Los portenos all maintain a very serious facade on the streets, no smiling almost ever, despite how openly emotional they are among amigos y familia. I admit, sometimes its exhausting to constantly work for obscuring the identity I carry with me, that was forged in another land and lifestyle. I do feel like I'm living an alternate life sometimes, like I'm not who I am back home. That person doesn't fit into the world down here as snugly as she does up there. I'm figuring that by the time this extended acting excercise is coming to an end, my transformation will have become complete and I will not know exactly how to discard my Argentine self upon returning to my own homebase. I've been desperately missing the stage, and the exhilaration of rehearsal and performance and audience... but I've just now realized that I am performing everyday, for everyone that I meet. This could be the most valuable and challenging role I've ever played.
Hmmmm.... I wonder if I could put portena on my resume??
Saturday, September 11, 2010
American. Woman.
I have alot of thoughts today. I don't know if any of them are really worth sharing. I don't know if I will end up publishing this or just saving it to reread and ponder over on my own. But I feel the need to preserve the strangeness of my feelings on this day.
I went for an extremely long run earlier, let myself deviate from my normal trail, the routine to which I've recently been attached for its sense of normalcy, and ended up getting lost and circumventing half of Palermo before trotting back to my own Belgrano stomping grounds. But somehow I just didn't wanna stop runnning. Could be that yesterday for the 2nd time since I've been here, someone asked me if I was pregnant (making me feel A. OBVIOUSLY self consious and B. really fed up with the Argentines standards of beauty... did I mention though that the woman who asked had the figure of a snowman and weighed at least 100lbs more than me??), could be the 2 cups of mate that I drank for breakfast this morning, or it could be that my mind was so a flame with inscendiary thoughts that my legs had more than enough fuel to keep them moving forward.
Today, I hate being a woman.
I hate the cat calls, and the whistles, and honks.
I hate knowing that I can't leave the house without being stared at.
I hate guilting myself into working out to fit into this society of toothpick women, when really I'd rather tear that image to shreds.
I hate that I get the guest's extra helping at the dinner table, while my host mom and sister don't eat.
I hate that I'm complaining about being fed too much when everyday I walk past people on the streets with nothing to eat.
I hate that half the reason I've been complaining so much this week is PMS.
I hate having to admit that.
I hate that the term femenista is a joke.
I hate that being good at the tango means learning how to utterly submit to the dominance of the man indicating every step you take.
I hate running past discarded condoms and panties in the mud on the side of a park path (not to mention the intestines of some gutted stray animal).
I hate that 13 year old girls are moved to inconsolable tears when they talk to God, as 2 girls were during a prayer circle at La Casita yesterday, making me wonder what in their lives behind their hardened attitudes is so plaguing them.
I hate that I want so much to reach out to them, but even if I could understand their struggles in translation, I'd never be able to relate to them, I'm sure.
I hate that I came here to absorb this culture not to change it, and in 2 months when I leave it, it will continue just the same.
On an almost entirely different note...
I also hate how its September 11, 9 years since the worst day my own country has seen in all my lifetime, and I don't know how to feel on this day. In past years the date has rolled by almost without my notice. I'd forget to watch the news and no one around me would be talking about it. But I think being abroad makes me acutely aware of the significance of this day for my country, and to be honest I'm not sure how I should feel about it.
But I hate that the pride I should be filled with as an American living abroad is mingled with so many lesser feelings on this day.
... maybe its because I feel like no one at home really realizes or appreciates the luxuries and liberties our nationality, our accident of birth, grants us.
... maybe its because my journeys abroad have given me a more refined perspective of my country and its place in the world, but I know that only the 1/3 of my countrymen who have their passports will ever experience any kind of similar enlightenment.
... maybe its that I feel like we have so much untapped and squandered capacity for good with our position in the world
... maybe its because none of our people, myself included, understand why our government can't fix health care, or stop an oil leak, or get us out of an 8 year war, or even explain to us why we're still in it.
... maybe its because the leaders of the most prominent and affluent country on the planet seem to think they can get away with obscuring something as primitive as truth from the people to whom they are indebted and who have endowed them with underserving trust.
I hate that I can even find the breath to complain about my homeland when I am daily reminded how fortunate I am to come from where I do. But it's like Mark Twain said, "Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it."
The Argentines have been a perfect example of that. They love their homeland and their heritage... in fact they are quite snobbish about it. But no one, NO ONE, likes anyone or anything about their government. There are protests daily all over this capital city. But still they gather, and they jump, and dance, and drum, and sing, and demonstrate to their leaders exactly what it means to them to be a citizen of Argentina. I want that our country would know that sense of total unconditional unity. We are Americans, not Californians and Texans, not liberals and independants and conservatives, not whites and Mexicans and Blacks, not white collar and blue collar, not Lakers or Celtics even, just all unquestionably at one in our commonality. That doesn't at all mean being in agreement or support or even obedient. It means being informed and actively invested in our the culture that had made us what we are.
... wow this went from being really ranty to really preachy.... I'll conclude then.
This week, in this place, there is alot about being a woman that I don't like. Today, in this era, there is alot about America that I want to see changed. But those two elements are so integral to the core of who I am! If I'd been born any other way, I simply wouldn't be the person I am right now. I'd exist only in some completely other capacity. So yeah today is a weird day to be who I am, where I am, at the time in which I am. Pero lo que soy.
... and that is a really pathetic attempt at a conclusion, trying to tie this ridiculous monster of a rant repository up with a nice neat little bow! Gracias.
I went for an extremely long run earlier, let myself deviate from my normal trail, the routine to which I've recently been attached for its sense of normalcy, and ended up getting lost and circumventing half of Palermo before trotting back to my own Belgrano stomping grounds. But somehow I just didn't wanna stop runnning. Could be that yesterday for the 2nd time since I've been here, someone asked me if I was pregnant (making me feel A. OBVIOUSLY self consious and B. really fed up with the Argentines standards of beauty... did I mention though that the woman who asked had the figure of a snowman and weighed at least 100lbs more than me??), could be the 2 cups of mate that I drank for breakfast this morning, or it could be that my mind was so a flame with inscendiary thoughts that my legs had more than enough fuel to keep them moving forward.
Today, I hate being a woman.
I hate the cat calls, and the whistles, and honks.
I hate knowing that I can't leave the house without being stared at.
I hate guilting myself into working out to fit into this society of toothpick women, when really I'd rather tear that image to shreds.
I hate that I get the guest's extra helping at the dinner table, while my host mom and sister don't eat.
I hate that I'm complaining about being fed too much when everyday I walk past people on the streets with nothing to eat.
I hate that half the reason I've been complaining so much this week is PMS.
I hate having to admit that.
I hate that the term femenista is a joke.
I hate that being good at the tango means learning how to utterly submit to the dominance of the man indicating every step you take.
I hate running past discarded condoms and panties in the mud on the side of a park path (not to mention the intestines of some gutted stray animal).
I hate that 13 year old girls are moved to inconsolable tears when they talk to God, as 2 girls were during a prayer circle at La Casita yesterday, making me wonder what in their lives behind their hardened attitudes is so plaguing them.
I hate that I want so much to reach out to them, but even if I could understand their struggles in translation, I'd never be able to relate to them, I'm sure.
I hate that I came here to absorb this culture not to change it, and in 2 months when I leave it, it will continue just the same.
On an almost entirely different note...
I also hate how its September 11, 9 years since the worst day my own country has seen in all my lifetime, and I don't know how to feel on this day. In past years the date has rolled by almost without my notice. I'd forget to watch the news and no one around me would be talking about it. But I think being abroad makes me acutely aware of the significance of this day for my country, and to be honest I'm not sure how I should feel about it.
But I hate that the pride I should be filled with as an American living abroad is mingled with so many lesser feelings on this day.
... maybe its because I feel like no one at home really realizes or appreciates the luxuries and liberties our nationality, our accident of birth, grants us.
... maybe its because my journeys abroad have given me a more refined perspective of my country and its place in the world, but I know that only the 1/3 of my countrymen who have their passports will ever experience any kind of similar enlightenment.
... maybe its that I feel like we have so much untapped and squandered capacity for good with our position in the world
... maybe its because none of our people, myself included, understand why our government can't fix health care, or stop an oil leak, or get us out of an 8 year war, or even explain to us why we're still in it.
... maybe its because the leaders of the most prominent and affluent country on the planet seem to think they can get away with obscuring something as primitive as truth from the people to whom they are indebted and who have endowed them with underserving trust.
I hate that I can even find the breath to complain about my homeland when I am daily reminded how fortunate I am to come from where I do. But it's like Mark Twain said, "Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it."
The Argentines have been a perfect example of that. They love their homeland and their heritage... in fact they are quite snobbish about it. But no one, NO ONE, likes anyone or anything about their government. There are protests daily all over this capital city. But still they gather, and they jump, and dance, and drum, and sing, and demonstrate to their leaders exactly what it means to them to be a citizen of Argentina. I want that our country would know that sense of total unconditional unity. We are Americans, not Californians and Texans, not liberals and independants and conservatives, not whites and Mexicans and Blacks, not white collar and blue collar, not Lakers or Celtics even, just all unquestionably at one in our commonality. That doesn't at all mean being in agreement or support or even obedient. It means being informed and actively invested in our the culture that had made us what we are.
... wow this went from being really ranty to really preachy.... I'll conclude then.
This week, in this place, there is alot about being a woman that I don't like. Today, in this era, there is alot about America that I want to see changed. But those two elements are so integral to the core of who I am! If I'd been born any other way, I simply wouldn't be the person I am right now. I'd exist only in some completely other capacity. So yeah today is a weird day to be who I am, where I am, at the time in which I am. Pero lo que soy.
... and that is a really pathetic attempt at a conclusion, trying to tie this ridiculous monster of a rant repository up with a nice neat little bow! Gracias.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
I have no idea what is going to happen to me today.
When I first came down here I had a set of expectations, for the language, the city, the people, and especially for myself. I had a set of goals I needed to accomplish while abroad. Looking back at the Kelly who got off the plane at Ezeiza Airport... I can almost laugh at her for thinking that she could plan and predict the world she was about to encounter. I've now past the halfway point in my journey. I have about 2 months in the country and only around 30 days of classes left to fulfill whatever it is I came here for. Even as I write this a sense of anxiety is creeping up from underneathe me at that thought. Am I utilizing my time to its utmost? Will I have any regrets upon going home?
Usually on mornings when I wake up with a sense of disquiet and unsurety of what I will do with this day, I find myself saying " I have no idea what will happen to me today." And while such an unknown would have terrified the pee out of me only months before leaving, today it gives me peace and comfort. Some of the best things to have come to pass for me so far have been unpredictable, unpremeditated, and spontaneous. The character challenge that I have thus been facing is opening up to the frightening myriad of possibilities, accepting the lurching free fall, and trusting myself and my capabilities to tumble with grace and find my way back onto my feet after crash landing.
That said, since my blogging has been so sporadic recently, I'll fill you in on the events that came to pass since my last entry:
Monday: previously mentioned computer ordeal.... my week got better I promise!
Tues: Trekked down to the Correo Nacional to pick up my care package from Mom. Canned salsa, muffin mix, red beans and rice, and best of all SPICES! It was a box well worth getting rained on, let me tell you! That night around 9pm, I went out to Cafe Vinilo, a trendy little bohemian cafe in Palermo, with live music every night of the week! A guy I met through ISA was playing with his Argentine folk band comprised of 2 guitarras hispanolas and him on the classical bass.Together their intricate musicianship formed a pure, gorgeous, unadulterated fusion of jazz and folk. I was floored by the dexterity of those men's fingers! It was there also that I realized that Argentina has officially transformed me into a wino! Yes, I am now a wine snob through and through... it helps that even the cheapest lowest quality of wine here is still utterly superb. But I ordered a simple glass of house red, una copa de vino tinto de la casa, and immediately noted the reflection of its rich ruby red color in the candle light at our table, marked the tell-tale tears on the sides of the glass, swished the floral scents through my senses and let the smooth rosy netar spal into my tongue and trickle down my through like the tranquil music in my ears..... see what I mean?!?!
Wed: La Tormenta de Santa Rosa, which arrives every year around August 30th, brought an ugly, cold, rainy day with wind so loud you'd swear a poltergeist had decided to throw a Halloween party with all his buddies in my living room! So to avoid going outside until the absolute last possible minute before class, I stayed in and baked my mother's blueberry muffin mix... I don't know how she remembered those were my favorites. Ana doesn't have a pan with muffin cups in them, so they came out a little free-form looking like fat little amoebas, but their taste was still delicious. I left them on the counter and the family loved them so much that they didn't even last the night! Ana seemed excited that I'd figured out how to use the oven on my own, converting Farhenheit to Centigrade and Cups to cc's and everything!
Thurs: Exceptionally normal. Rain, class, Mask and Breathing Theatre workshops that I'm loving more and more each week! I did bring my friend Tom to tango class at UB though, I mean we desperately need more guys so I thought it'd give me brownie points or something (not that I need them when I'm already Jose's favortite student... and not necessarily in a good way!). But to my shock and surprise Jose FREAKED OUT! He comes over to me while I'm teaching my friend the basic steps and with a smug little attitude goes, "Where'd you get your doll?" He proceeded to give Tom dirty looks all the rest of class, and used me as an example to demonstrate to the class more than usual today probably cuz he just wanted to show off how great he is at shoving the woman around on the dance floor. UGH! I swear the tanguero ego is the most suffocating and infuriating thing I may have ever encountered, and trust me, in my line of work I encounter alot of egos.
Fri: I woke up early and took the bus to the bus to Escobar to visit los ninos, but for reasons unknown to me, it was closed. No one was there and all the doors were locked. I have no idea why but I wherever those kids ended up spending that cold soggy day, I hope that it was warm and dry. I tooled around Escobar for awhile, but there's nothing much to see out there and it wasn't very nice earther for a stroll, so I just took the bus back to BsAs, bought myself some fuscia hair dye on a whim and added some fun streaks to my already ostentatious blonde! I figure that in the state I can never have funky hair if I wanna work and be in shows... but as it were I won't be working or performing for at least a few more months and I gotta do something crazy while living in South America right?? That night a group of us went to the milonga at La Viruta. There were a ton more people than I am used to seeing during the week, unfortunately none of them were under the age of 40. Now as much as I love being shuffled around by slimey old men, or viejos babosos as Ana calls them, not my idea of a fun Friday night. So I got talked into going to Crobar, a boliche where the young people dance!! Again, a spontaneous "Well, why the heck not?" decision that ended up being alot of fun! I realized that one of the reasons I don't like going out to the boliches is constantly getting hit on by men that think they are hotter than I do. BUT I have now learned the system, and was with a really fun group of friends, so together we took turns fending off the vultures. I even had an opportunity to utilize some Argentine curse words!
Sat: Since we left the club at 6am (you know its time to go when there's so few people left you can actually see the dance floor!) I let myself sleep till 3:30pm! I think that's a new record for me. I was fully prepared to do hw and laze around the house in my pjs for the rest of the afternoon, when Ana excitedly asks me if I wanna go to the mall with her to have coffee with some old college friends of hers from Brazil! Going to the mall like a real mom and daughter!! I was so flattered and thrilled to be invited! So Ana, Sofi, and I went out to Recoleta, to this really high end mall and sat and talked to her old friend and his wife and son for hours in a delicious cocktail of Spanish, Portugese, and English. She introduced me as her American daughter, and they invited me to come visit them if I'm ever in Brazil... which I am totally planning on being sometime very soon. It was such a fun little family outing. OH and ps. Ana like any good mother does not like what I did to my hair, and when we were arriving at the mall, I started feeling really self consious about it... until her friend's wife took one look at me and exclaimed how cool she thought it was and how she wished she could do something like that to her hair!
Sun: We planned a lunch party for the Brazilians in our apartment, so I helped Ana clean up and get the table all set. We had empanadas, pasta, tarta de manzanas con helado, and $200 Malbec from Mendoza! I let my hair be wavy and wore my favorite tunic top that day... so they all made fun of me as a "hippie chick" and put a flower from the table behind my ear. After a couple more glasses of wine though, they all had flowers behind their ears too! They made me do an impromtu sing for them, which was awfully embarrassing. Also, given the fact that I have not had so much as a piano to do scales on for the past 3 months, I'm a little rusty. They didn't know the difference though, and loved it of course! After the meal and socializing, I snuck into the kitchen to start on the dishes while Ana said her goodbyes. I was already halfway finished when she realized, but she actually let me do them! I've never in my life been so proud of the opportunity to wash dishes. Its trivial, I know, but it makes me feel integrated into the family that has given me a home in this country. It was the perfect weekend.
Mon: Again, another normal day. Went running in the park, ate the rest of my red beans and rice, skirted off to class, and afterwards went down to Plaza de Mayo to take pictures of the architecture for my Arte Contemporaneo project due the next day... yeah, I'll never learn punctuality. We got there just at the time of night, after the sun has sunk behind the buildings and silhouetted their dark distinct outlines against a peachy sky, the city lights beam a little brighter, and the streets fill up with cars and people heading home after a day of work. As I am focusing my camera on the Pyramida de Mayo in the center of the plaza, I hear drums and sirens and song, and turn to see a massive demonstration of young people with colorful banners marching down the middle of the street from Congreso. That's one of the things that love about this city.
Tues: Practically no one went to their classes today BECAUSE the Espana vs. Argentina Bicentennial futbol game was being played this afternoon at the River Plate Stadium about 5 blocks from my apartment. The partido between La Madre Patria and her former colony in honor of Argentina's 200 year birthday this year, would have been a big deal in itself, but seeing as Espana just took the world championship title in the Mundial only months ago?? IT WAS A BIG FRICKIN DEAL! So I skipped out on tango (...oops!) and Erica and I went back to my apartment to share a $5 peso box of wine, Wheat Thins from home, and cheese on my balcony listening to the crowd from the stadium. Every time we heard an uproar we'd run inside to the tv to watch Argentina score another embarassingly awesome goal. 4:1 Argentina.... someone explain to me why we didn't take the world title again??? Probably the girliest way to watch a sports game though right?? I don't care! It was fantastic!
Wed: I was in a funk today. Couldn't explain it. I was just plagued with a shadow of nostalgia and homesickness that followed me around on my run through the park, while I sipped my coffee and watched the news, while I added some purple to the fuscia streak in my hair, and to all my classes. After Spanish I caught #15 to La Viruta to see if I could tango it away... and actually that worked! I recognized the names and faces of all my favorite Wednesday night partners, no babosos here, and finally fell back into my element, putting myself at ease and quieting my thoughts long enough to listen to the moves. I even met a couple new friends who I'm excited to dance again with next time
Today: I'm currently sitting in the sunshine on my balcony, thinking about grabbing some reading and going to the park before class. That sounds like a good gameplan for now... but like I said, I really have no idea where that will lead, what if anything will intervene, or if on my way over there I'll spontaneously decide to add some green to my hair!
Nadie sabe!
Usually on mornings when I wake up with a sense of disquiet and unsurety of what I will do with this day, I find myself saying " I have no idea what will happen to me today." And while such an unknown would have terrified the pee out of me only months before leaving, today it gives me peace and comfort. Some of the best things to have come to pass for me so far have been unpredictable, unpremeditated, and spontaneous. The character challenge that I have thus been facing is opening up to the frightening myriad of possibilities, accepting the lurching free fall, and trusting myself and my capabilities to tumble with grace and find my way back onto my feet after crash landing.
That said, since my blogging has been so sporadic recently, I'll fill you in on the events that came to pass since my last entry:
Monday: previously mentioned computer ordeal.... my week got better I promise!
Tues: Trekked down to the Correo Nacional to pick up my care package from Mom. Canned salsa, muffin mix, red beans and rice, and best of all SPICES! It was a box well worth getting rained on, let me tell you! That night around 9pm, I went out to Cafe Vinilo, a trendy little bohemian cafe in Palermo, with live music every night of the week! A guy I met through ISA was playing with his Argentine folk band comprised of 2 guitarras hispanolas and him on the classical bass.Together their intricate musicianship formed a pure, gorgeous, unadulterated fusion of jazz and folk. I was floored by the dexterity of those men's fingers! It was there also that I realized that Argentina has officially transformed me into a wino! Yes, I am now a wine snob through and through... it helps that even the cheapest lowest quality of wine here is still utterly superb. But I ordered a simple glass of house red, una copa de vino tinto de la casa, and immediately noted the reflection of its rich ruby red color in the candle light at our table, marked the tell-tale tears on the sides of the glass, swished the floral scents through my senses and let the smooth rosy netar spal into my tongue and trickle down my through like the tranquil music in my ears..... see what I mean?!?!
Wed: La Tormenta de Santa Rosa, which arrives every year around August 30th, brought an ugly, cold, rainy day with wind so loud you'd swear a poltergeist had decided to throw a Halloween party with all his buddies in my living room! So to avoid going outside until the absolute last possible minute before class, I stayed in and baked my mother's blueberry muffin mix... I don't know how she remembered those were my favorites. Ana doesn't have a pan with muffin cups in them, so they came out a little free-form looking like fat little amoebas, but their taste was still delicious. I left them on the counter and the family loved them so much that they didn't even last the night! Ana seemed excited that I'd figured out how to use the oven on my own, converting Farhenheit to Centigrade and Cups to cc's and everything!
Thurs: Exceptionally normal. Rain, class, Mask and Breathing Theatre workshops that I'm loving more and more each week! I did bring my friend Tom to tango class at UB though, I mean we desperately need more guys so I thought it'd give me brownie points or something (not that I need them when I'm already Jose's favortite student... and not necessarily in a good way!). But to my shock and surprise Jose FREAKED OUT! He comes over to me while I'm teaching my friend the basic steps and with a smug little attitude goes, "Where'd you get your doll?" He proceeded to give Tom dirty looks all the rest of class, and used me as an example to demonstrate to the class more than usual today probably cuz he just wanted to show off how great he is at shoving the woman around on the dance floor. UGH! I swear the tanguero ego is the most suffocating and infuriating thing I may have ever encountered, and trust me, in my line of work I encounter alot of egos.
Fri: I woke up early and took the bus to the bus to Escobar to visit los ninos, but for reasons unknown to me, it was closed. No one was there and all the doors were locked. I have no idea why but I wherever those kids ended up spending that cold soggy day, I hope that it was warm and dry. I tooled around Escobar for awhile, but there's nothing much to see out there and it wasn't very nice earther for a stroll, so I just took the bus back to BsAs, bought myself some fuscia hair dye on a whim and added some fun streaks to my already ostentatious blonde! I figure that in the state I can never have funky hair if I wanna work and be in shows... but as it were I won't be working or performing for at least a few more months and I gotta do something crazy while living in South America right?? That night a group of us went to the milonga at La Viruta. There were a ton more people than I am used to seeing during the week, unfortunately none of them were under the age of 40. Now as much as I love being shuffled around by slimey old men, or viejos babosos as Ana calls them, not my idea of a fun Friday night. So I got talked into going to Crobar, a boliche where the young people dance!! Again, a spontaneous "Well, why the heck not?" decision that ended up being alot of fun! I realized that one of the reasons I don't like going out to the boliches is constantly getting hit on by men that think they are hotter than I do. BUT I have now learned the system, and was with a really fun group of friends, so together we took turns fending off the vultures. I even had an opportunity to utilize some Argentine curse words!
Sat: Since we left the club at 6am (you know its time to go when there's so few people left you can actually see the dance floor!) I let myself sleep till 3:30pm! I think that's a new record for me. I was fully prepared to do hw and laze around the house in my pjs for the rest of the afternoon, when Ana excitedly asks me if I wanna go to the mall with her to have coffee with some old college friends of hers from Brazil! Going to the mall like a real mom and daughter!! I was so flattered and thrilled to be invited! So Ana, Sofi, and I went out to Recoleta, to this really high end mall and sat and talked to her old friend and his wife and son for hours in a delicious cocktail of Spanish, Portugese, and English. She introduced me as her American daughter, and they invited me to come visit them if I'm ever in Brazil... which I am totally planning on being sometime very soon. It was such a fun little family outing. OH and ps. Ana like any good mother does not like what I did to my hair, and when we were arriving at the mall, I started feeling really self consious about it... until her friend's wife took one look at me and exclaimed how cool she thought it was and how she wished she could do something like that to her hair!
Sun: We planned a lunch party for the Brazilians in our apartment, so I helped Ana clean up and get the table all set. We had empanadas, pasta, tarta de manzanas con helado, and $200 Malbec from Mendoza! I let my hair be wavy and wore my favorite tunic top that day... so they all made fun of me as a "hippie chick" and put a flower from the table behind my ear. After a couple more glasses of wine though, they all had flowers behind their ears too! They made me do an impromtu sing for them, which was awfully embarrassing. Also, given the fact that I have not had so much as a piano to do scales on for the past 3 months, I'm a little rusty. They didn't know the difference though, and loved it of course! After the meal and socializing, I snuck into the kitchen to start on the dishes while Ana said her goodbyes. I was already halfway finished when she realized, but she actually let me do them! I've never in my life been so proud of the opportunity to wash dishes. Its trivial, I know, but it makes me feel integrated into the family that has given me a home in this country. It was the perfect weekend.
Mon: Again, another normal day. Went running in the park, ate the rest of my red beans and rice, skirted off to class, and afterwards went down to Plaza de Mayo to take pictures of the architecture for my Arte Contemporaneo project due the next day... yeah, I'll never learn punctuality. We got there just at the time of night, after the sun has sunk behind the buildings and silhouetted their dark distinct outlines against a peachy sky, the city lights beam a little brighter, and the streets fill up with cars and people heading home after a day of work. As I am focusing my camera on the Pyramida de Mayo in the center of the plaza, I hear drums and sirens and song, and turn to see a massive demonstration of young people with colorful banners marching down the middle of the street from Congreso. That's one of the things that love about this city.
Tues: Practically no one went to their classes today BECAUSE the Espana vs. Argentina Bicentennial futbol game was being played this afternoon at the River Plate Stadium about 5 blocks from my apartment. The partido between La Madre Patria and her former colony in honor of Argentina's 200 year birthday this year, would have been a big deal in itself, but seeing as Espana just took the world championship title in the Mundial only months ago?? IT WAS A BIG FRICKIN DEAL! So I skipped out on tango (...oops!) and Erica and I went back to my apartment to share a $5 peso box of wine, Wheat Thins from home, and cheese on my balcony listening to the crowd from the stadium. Every time we heard an uproar we'd run inside to the tv to watch Argentina score another embarassingly awesome goal. 4:1 Argentina.... someone explain to me why we didn't take the world title again??? Probably the girliest way to watch a sports game though right?? I don't care! It was fantastic!
Wed: I was in a funk today. Couldn't explain it. I was just plagued with a shadow of nostalgia and homesickness that followed me around on my run through the park, while I sipped my coffee and watched the news, while I added some purple to the fuscia streak in my hair, and to all my classes. After Spanish I caught #15 to La Viruta to see if I could tango it away... and actually that worked! I recognized the names and faces of all my favorite Wednesday night partners, no babosos here, and finally fell back into my element, putting myself at ease and quieting my thoughts long enough to listen to the moves. I even met a couple new friends who I'm excited to dance again with next time
Today: I'm currently sitting in the sunshine on my balcony, thinking about grabbing some reading and going to the park before class. That sounds like a good gameplan for now... but like I said, I really have no idea where that will lead, what if anything will intervene, or if on my way over there I'll spontaneously decide to add some green to my hair!
Nadie sabe!
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