So You Want to Take a Final

STOMP is good no matter where or when you see it. I took a few friends who had never seen it before to the traveling show when it made a stop here in BA last weekend, and they walked out of there tapping handrails and making a bad attempt at beat boxing. It was a phenomenal show; they did a great routine with some stereotypical folding chairs, along with the traditional brooms, lighters and trash can lids. They had the entire place mic'd up, and when they seriously got rocking (like during the sign wall picture above, or during the trash can lid part) the whole theater was vibrating. The 8 year old behind us uttered several no me gusta!'s (I don't like it!) as it seemed as if the whole place was about to come down. I thought it was awesome. Every single parent who took their kids to the show I know will regret it for the next week, with forks finding every surface and sound during dinner each night.

Sunday saw me browsing through the markets scattered around the city. While browsing through the countless different items for sale (some of them real head scratchers; they left such an impression on me that I can't even remember what they are) I enjoyed some music and watched some tango dancers do their thing. One guy's product was a little device that makes a chicken noise if you pull a string. It sounded so similar to a chicken that, yeah, I bought one. Impulse buy if there ever was one. For $1.25, I think the bank account can handle it. Now I can annoy just about everyone near me with a constant chicken clucking. In the middle of class, in the middle of dinner, on the bus, behind a random person on the street- I'll be my own traveling comedy show. If the next post talks about me looking for new housing/exploring hostel options/getting deported, you'll know why.

The interesting thing about the markets, though, is how suddenly I was thrown back into the middle of tourist central here in Buenos Aires. Over the last few months I feel like I've integrated pretty well into the BsAs lifestyle. I wouldn't call myself a local by any means, but I think I've definitely reached a sort of half-way point between absolute tourist who gets nailed by two old ladies and bird poop (that fun fact and only that fun fact made it into the Daily Pennsylvanian, Penn's daily newspaper, the other day) and porteño maestro. Hearing people talking about basic spanish language points or just watching tourists be blatant tourists made me want to get out of there.

None of those tourists have to take finals, unlike yours truly. I'll take having four of them spread out over about three and a half weeks, with one of them being a paper though. Taking a final is normally a very straightforward pursuit. You study, you come to class, you sit down, you write your final, and you go home and remember you have a life. Here, on the other hand, things work a little differently. You'd think by now I'd have learned that things don't happen as expected in this country, but oh no. Taking a final at UCA was quite the experience.

First, you have to register for the final. A little odd, seeing as I was already registered for the class and I figured that the finals came with the entrée, but hey this isn't a buy-one-get-one-free country. I rolled with it - no problem. All signed up, I get to UCA at 8:40 or so for a 9:00 final, because the study abroad program staff recommended that we double-check which room the final is in. That is of course not an easy process (or I just don't know what I'm doing, since I went to several wrong places before running into a classmate who I followed to the right place) but eventually found that my final was in a different room from my regular lecture classroom.

I finally made it to the classroom, with a few minutes to spare. As I looked around, I noticed that absolutely everyone looked like they were going to a wedding. Suits, ties, well-put-together chicas, the works. UCA students dress well normally, but this was a whole other level. And there of course was yours truly in jeans, a T-shirt and shoes the farthest thing from dress shoes not called flip-flops. Fitting in is for suckers, right?

The two professors didn't show up until about 10:30 because they were finishing another final. It was nice to get a little extra study time in, for sure. But that extra study time turned into about 6 hours. I sat in that room waiting for my turn (they were oral finals which were done in front of everyone, believe it or not) for 6 whole hours. I was the very last one to go. The benefit to that though, was that I found out my grade quickly - no several week waiting period like back at Penn, which was nice.

I could be spoiled by Penn/YIS testing techniques, but 6 hours for 18 or so oral exams seems a little excessive. I'll bring my chicken to my next final to keep me occupied, just in case.