La Rural

The last few days have been dominated by trying to figure out my course schedule. Trying to sign up for classes at three different universities is not the easiest thing in the world anywhere. Then throw in a foreign language, a schedule that takes a rocket scientist to figure out (multiply that by three, because the course schedule at each school is formatted differently) and the reasonably complicated process of figuring out if I get credit at Penn, and you have the recipe spent for several hours spent staring at a computer screen. I think my anfitriona thinks I have some computer addiction issues because of it.

At this point, Orientation is effectively over, with classes starting today. We still do have the occasional meeting, and our spanish class will continue for a few more weeks (before we start the real castellano class), but it's game time now. I'm about to embark on an ambitious course-shopping plan, so I'll be taking classes at literally all hours of the day for the next two weeks. When I say all hours of the day, that means anytime between 7:45am and 11:00pm. I think the reason behind classes being at really any time of the day (with most of them are in the evening) is that the majority of argentine university students work during the day. I figure I should just bring a sleeping bag, water proof matches and some oatmeal and set up camp in the classroom.

Maradona still is, and always will be, the biggest story on the news. The day after the last post he went on national TV and gave a press conference about his meetings with the AFA regarding his continuing as head coach of the national team. As it can, it got ugly, with Maradona accusing the head of the AFA of lying to him and of being betrayed by various people in the organization. And so began a war of words that continues today. I timed how long the news cycle devoted to the story that night- 30 minutes. I mean, it's interesting and all, and definitely highly relevant, but thirty minutes? That's longer than the State of the Union coverage.

The weekend was busy and relatively sleepless, with many an hour spent wandering the city during the night hours with friends from the program. I also made it to a showing of 'Inception,' which was an amazing movie. It's similar to The Matrix in that it makes you think about reality and our perception of it. I might go see it again just to piece it all together. After the movie I stumbled across a parilla about 20 feet from my front door, which could prove dangerous. It was great; they will probably get to know me by the end of the 5 months. Anywhere I can have a big fat steak, salad and water for $12 can put me on their speed dial. That's if you actually eat the salad. When I ordered the salad, the waiter mentioned something about putting oil on it as a dressing. I didn't really pay to much attention and just said sure, assuming that it would be a balsamic something-or-other, since that has been pretty common. When the salad came out, however, it reeked. It smelled absolutely rotten. I had horror stories of being hunched over a toilet hurling my guts out for days flash through my mind. The salad looked fresh and tasty, but I just couldn't eat it. What I think happened is they wound up putting some sort of cooking oil on it. At least, I hope that's what it was - it did smell pretty bad. Note to self: listen to entire talk on salad. I tried to move it around to at least make it look like I ate some of it.

Yesterday I made it to La Rural, the biggest annual rural exposition in Argentina. It's a huge fair, with sheep, horses, birds, and every type of cattle that walks the earth on display (and for sale, in many cases). These were some of the biggest beasts I have ever seen. We were wondering what happens when one of these cows goes berserk; does it run 50 feet and collapse from exhaustion? Can it actually run? They are just pure mass. Many gauchos were there, in their cultural dress; hats, ponchos, knives. They don't wear cowboy hats; they're either beret-like hats or black hats that look like something the FBI agents in 'The Sting' wear. They really are one of a kind, and hard to explain. There were also several judging events going on, from horse and buggy events to what looked like mounted police with spears and sabers. Pretty neat stuff. If it had anything to do with ranches and rural life, it was there.

Following La Rural I made my way to a polideportivo to play my first soccer in Argentina. It was with mostly kids from the program, but it was still fantastic nonetheless. It was a spot almost identical to the place I found around the corner from my house here in Almagro. I got a solid 2 hours in of some futból. It's in the cards for next Sunday as well; if anyone asks, I had an absolutely horrendous time. We did get a ride back into the center of town by one of the Argentinian guys we played with. We found ourselves in the back of tin shell of a van with half of us sitting on the floor and the other half on little half-benches along the side. People get abducted in vans like these. But the guy was really friendly, and I think all ten of us could have overpowered him anyway.