Lately, Argentina has been dealing with the recurring problem of bank robberies. It's been a popping up almost daily on the news for the last week or so. Someone last week even robbed a bank 50 meters from a police station, and half of the crew got away. I really don't know what to make of that, but the bankers do. They decided to go on strike to protest the fact that bank security is apparently not about to win any awards for good performance. By they I mean every bank in the country. It just so happened that I, along with some friends, decided to cruise around San Telmo during the day today (the day of the strike) just to check out the neighborhood. As soon as I get out of the subway, I hear 3 loud pops; if someone was trying to make me jump, they really didn't have to use firecrackers. But here was a group of protestors (what I imagine was the warm up for the major league protest later in the day) shooting firecrackers with the equivalent of the White House a few doors down. If that happened in the US, half of the national guard would be on Pennsylvania Ave in about 30 seconds. No one seemed to mind so much here, though.
In the words of Ron White, "I told you that story to tell you this story." About a week ago I got an email from Bank of America saying that they put a hold on my card because there was unusual spending. I checked out my account activity online, and there had been a $14 payment to 'Christians for Jesus.' Definitely not my usual spending habits. So the card was shut down, and plans were put into motion for a new one. The catch was that with it would take over a week for it to get here, and I didn't have enough cash to last me that long. So I looked into wiring some from my account, and fortunately VISA has a service that helps one do that. Everything was put into motion yesterday, and I would have money waiting for me today. This was a very good thing, because my $20 peso wallet was worth just about the amount of cash in it (20 pesos = about $5 USD). But, oh wait! All the banks decided to strike today. For just today. I found the one western union in the city that was not in a bank, and it was at a major post office in a reasonably sketchy part of town. I eventually made it home with some cash, but not after playing Jason Bourne for a half hour.
Classes have started this week, and the shopping period is on. The first class that I tried out was a class at the Universidad del Salvador (USAL). It was a pure nightmare. I should have known that it would be, since it was the only class in the schedule that did not have a classroom mentioned. I arrived a few minutes before the 6:00pm start time, and I asked someone where the classroom was for the course. They said 216. Great! Thank you very much. We get to 216, and it's definitely not right. We find another IFSA student looking for the same class, and he said that he was told 304. Not it either. So I go back downstairs and find out that it's actually in 116. Alright, so we go there. Two German exchange students were holding down the very empty fort; we stayed for a while, and finally figured that this wasn't right. So, we return once again to the secretary, and are told that it actually starts at 7:30, not 6. Well great. So we killed an hour and a half in a cafe around the corner, and returned at 7:30. I go to the secretary and ask where the classroom is, and she says she has no idea what class I'm talking about. Fantastic. It so happened that the person next to me at the counter did know, and she said room 117. We ran up the stairs, only to find that it did start at 6. Welcome to university life in Buenos Aires! It turned out to be a class I probably won't take, so no harm done. The classroom itself was pretty bare; peeling white paint, a blackboard that had its coating starting to come off, and a gridlock of desks all painted by a harsh light from halogen bulbs. A little different from what I'm used to, but it honestly didn't matter. The professor knew her stuff and we all had desks to write on.
The next morning I took a History of the Americas class at the Universidad Católica Argentina (UCA) that was fantastic. It would appear to be pretty standard, but it left a great impression. All the students were eager to discuss the theme of the day (does Latin America have a single identity?). Classes back at Penn are not like this; there is no rapid discussion, no similar passion to express opinion. I remember sitting there thinking, this is unbelievable. I have three other UCA courses to try out next week - hopefully they'll be similar. It's been a somewhat chaotic week with trying all of the classes, with room and time changes that only the argentine students know about and running around to all parts of the city to find the different facultades. Maybe there is a threshold where if I eat enough beef, I'll be in on the secret. To the parrilla!
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