Xavier saves the day!

Xavier finally finished up his classes in Santa Cruz, Bolivia and withstood the 36-hour bus ride to visit me in Buenos Aires and discover a new city. Without having communicated about this before his arrival, he arrived with his CAMERA!! That means we could make up for some of my lost time, and he was particularly eager to take photos of things they don’t have in Santa Cruz. Like the subway (aka Subte) And an old retired sailboat in Puerto Madero.
And murals of world-famous soccer teams (in the Boca).
Also some images of my daily life in BsAs, like my studio apartment at Fray Santamaria de Oro 2705.
Friends and couples dancing at the weekly Sunday San Telmo feria.

Porteñisms III

Che - basically means "hey," like "che, can you pass me an apple?" but it comes across more friendly than harsh. Not recommended for use with elders or in formal situations.

Como andas? - literally means "how do you walk" but is commonly used as an alternative way of asking how you are doing or how things are going.

Todo bien? - means what you would think, "Is everything going well?" and is also commonly used as a way of asking how you are doing. You can also answer this or the previous question with "todo bien" as a declarative.

Dale! - used to mean "okay" or "got it!" when you're accepting a plan.

Niño/a - means "kid" but I've heard many adults use this as an endearing term to address each other: "Niña, can you help me translate this document?".

Big city, small world

Last night the young couple who owns the apartment I am renting invited me to a little cocert of the band Madre Maravilla in the basement of Bar Imaginacion (Bulnes x Guardia Vieja) because the boyfriend plays the drums in the band. Before they started playing, the girlfriend introduced me to Chris, an American guy who used to live in the apartment. When I told him where I go to medical school, he asked if I know a guy who just graduated, named Matt. I didn’t know many of the 4^th years, but happened to be shadowing my preceptor on Labor and Delivery one night in the fall when Matt was there for a rotation. It was a slow night, and at some point I told him about CHMP, the clinic outside of Santa Cruz, Bolivia. He was interested in doing a rotation down there, so I gave him the contact information for people at the clinic. He spent about 3 weeks there in April, and Chris had gone up to visit. In this big city with zillions of apartments, this guy with whom I have a mutual friend, lived in the same apartment as me! (he had moved out to be in a different part of town)

The band played electronic rock and wore funky uniforms under flashing colored lights. They had good synergy, and used some typical latin beats behind dissonant melodies, and it was a fun show and a great bar. I couldn’t find photos or videos anywhere, but you can hear a couple of their songs on their website or myspace page.

Things I will miss. And not miss.

Realizing that I am embarking on my last week here, I have started to take note of the things I have most enjoyed here in Buenos Aires and will therefore miss. Here’s my list:

1. Verdulerias every other block that sell all sorts of fresh fruits and vegetables as well as packets of freshly shredded carrots, beats, lettuce and cabbage--a HUGE salad for 2 pesos. Or a big bunch of arugula for the same price. And a couple of mandarinas for dessert.
2. Colectivos, the local buses that go everywhere in the city for 1 peso (~$0.33). My pocket Guia T maps out all the routes and has by far been the most useful 8 pesos I’ve spent.
3. Dividing all prices by 3 (the approximate exchange rate)
4. living within 3 blocks of tons of bus stops, a subway stop, 4 grocery stores, a handful of pastry shops, video rental stores and lavaderos (where they wash a load for $3), and more than a dozen restaurants
   
5. Dulce de Leche
6. San Jose – the local bakery near work where they sell fresh pasta, empanadas, and shelves and shelves of pastries
7. dog walkers—BA is the only place I’ve been where I see well-fed and groomed dogs on leashes and cats living on the streets. These photos were taken here, although clearly during a different season—a few of the dogs usually have jackets!

That all being said, there are certainly things I’ll be happy to leave behind, namely:

1. the short days and dreary weather (although there have been exceptions, this has been the rule)
2. the constant struggle to wrestle enough change out of vendors so that I can ride the bus
3. all the shit on the sidewalks – it’s a rare sight to see someone carrying a plastic bag as they walk their dog
4. indoor smoking, even though it has been banned

I’m a convert

Argentina is internationally known for tango, but being stubborn and preferring more energetic latin music, I was pretty certain I wouldn’t like it (neither the dance nor the music). I’ve seen videos of famous dancers and although it can be fascinating to watch, I never felt inspired to learn. In the second week I was here, another traveler was trying to convince a group to go see Orquesta típica de Fernandez Fierro, and the audio samples she played for us sounded so excessively melodramatic, and not “my style” of music.

Finally one night, deciding not to judge without trying, I agreed to accompany a friend to a milonga, the venue where tango and milonga (similar but a little faster) are danced. It was amazing. We attended the class at 10:30 before the regulars took the floor around midnight. About 30 minutes later two local bands composed entirely of 25-35 year olds playing violins, piano, stand-up bass, and bandeleon (an old-fashioned instrument similar to an accordion) started playing this incredibly melodramatic music. The place was packed. While there were a few older folks, I was fascinated by this young hip scene that is fed by this seemingly out-dated music. The second group, called Ciudad Baigón, included 2 young women among the violin players, 4 bandeleon players sitting in front, leaning over their instruments and allowing their entire lap to fall with the notes they played, and a short, lean singer with an enormous voice. This is a photo my friend Shaili took.Since then, I saw the same group play at the weekly San Telmo feria (piano and all rolled out into the street) and finally went to see Fernandez Fierro. This group of about 10 musicians plays in a weekly venue named after the group that is regularly filled with young Argentines and tourists from all over South America, North America, and Europe. A number of these musicians looked like rock stars with dread locks and wearing sunglasses (even though they were often playing in low or no lighting). I still have no business trying to dance to the music, but I’ve fallen head over heels for the music scene.

Leaving it up to your imagination

One the reasons I intended to keep this blog was because it seemed like a convenient way of sharing digital photos that would elucidate some of the stories I post. After not having a camera for the first month until Laura brought it down here to me, it broke one week later. When I took it to a repair store, they told me it would cost $100 and take 15-20 days to fix it. New cameras here cost 2x the price they would in the States. I have been able to hijack other people’s cameras to an extent and borrow photos they’ve taken, but the rest is up to your imagination!

Bright Eyes in BA

Accompanied by two local bands, Valle de Muñecas and Nacho y los Caracoles (believe it or not Nacho is a common first name here), Bright Eyes played in concert here last night at the Trastienda Club. It was definitely the best live music I've experienced here, after going to see two friends' bands. One of my favorite songs of the night was this one (video from a different performance):

Argentinisms II / Porteñisms (particularities of speech in Bs As)

re – the Porteñan way of saying “very”. Since the word starts with “r” it comes out as a double r, giving it even more emphasis as a modifier.

buena onda – literally means “good wave,” but it's used to describe a person as cool. It's often used in combination with the previous, as in “re buena onda.”

Mira vos! – while this would be literally translated as “look at you!” it seems to be used more as though they are saying “huh, how interesting.” An American friend here who is more of an expert in these things tells me it’s like saying “look at you sharing all your knowledge and insights!"

bárbaro! - I always thought this meant "barbaric," and I'm pretty sure I've heard it used that way, but I most often hear it used to mean "how terrific."

side note: If you're noticing a theme in these phrases, it is no coincidence. Porteños are experts at talking effusively about just about everything. Consistent with their reputation for passion, they (esp the women) can make an apple sound like the best thing they've ever tasted, any mountain sound like Everest, a small gesture sound like an incredible sacrifice.

more to come....

That's a lot of water

For a 3-day weekend excursion I traveled to Iguazu Falls with Gretchen, the Georgetown student that works at the lab, Laura, my Peace Corps friend who is living with me this month, and Alexandra, Laura’s new friend she met at her Spanish school. We left Friday after work and went directly to the Retiro, bus station, and even though there was a protest going on downtown (pretty standard), we managed to get there with plenty of time to spare before the bus left. Bus travel here is a much more comfortable experience than anywhere else in the world I’ve been, including any bus in the US. It’s a good thing considering that the trip was 16 hours! On the way there our seats were “cama ejecutivo,” meaning that the row only includes three seats and they recline as far as airline first class seats. It also means that we got a three course dinner with wine and champagne, as well as breakfast in the morning. And since we rode the bus overnight, we saved money on hostel costs! Our entertainment included a terrible Argentine pirate comedy, the movie 27 Dresses, and 50 First Dates, as well as some videos exalting the agricultural and industrial glories of Argentina.

The last four hours of the trip along the border with Paraguay we had daylight, and quickly noticed that our surroundings were much more tropical than the temperate climate where we started. The trees were all green and the dirt a rusty red. The forecast for the weekend was cloudless and 77 degrees F, so I was pretty excited to be wearing t-shirts and flip-flops. Most of the other passengers had debarked at larger towns on the way, and by the time we arrived the other group of American girls were announcing the items they planned to take into the “jungle.”

Arriving in the quiet town of ~30,000 inhabitants at the crossroads of Paraguay, Brazil, and Argentina, we took a taxi to the hostel which has the biggest swimming pool in town. After lunch and a short discussion about our plan for seeing the falls the next day, we ventured back into town and treated ourselves to ice cream (dulce de leche and chocolate amargo, of course). We also picked up some sunscreen and snacks since we heard that food at the falls would be expensive.

After walking back from town, we chilled at the pool drinking our complimentary caipariñas. That night there was an asado (BBQ) at the hostel with a Brazilian “show” where women in sparkly thongs and headdresses (sorry, I didn't flatter them with) entertained primarily the male guests. We chatted with some young Dubliners who seemed about as embarrassed by the whole thing as we were. Planning for the long day ahead, we turned in just as the flip-cup game was getting started by the young flirty travelers at the hostel.

The Iguazu River forms the border with Brazil, so the falls can be seen from either the Brazilian or Argentine side. As the river hits Isla San Martin, it forms a wall of dramatic falls on both sides. Having turned down the pricey tour complete with a speedboat ride directly into the falls, we decided to take a self-conducted tour of the park, unsure of how much we would be able to see or how quickly we’d run through it all. We arrived at the entrance to the park at about 9 am to pay our 40 peso entrance fee. We got a map and walked toward the train headed toward La Garganta del Diablo (the throat of the devil) where we listened in on a tour being given to a group of about 25 Colombian and Mexican tourists. The number of organized tour groups and variety of was impressive. As was the organization and overall infrastructure of the park. After the train ride, we walked a few hundred meters on a steel walk-way over the calm water that would fall into the throat.

Standing 30 meters above the bottom of the garganta we looked across the abyss at the Brazilian structures that were barely noticeable over the enormity of the falls.

The falls were nothing short of phenomenal. From the garganta, we turned down the chance to float down the river toward the rest of the falls, and stopped at every point on the upper views, lower views, and crossed to the island to see the falls from that side. Having been blown away by every version we encountered, we agreed that the last view was our favorite, confirming that we planned the day just perfectly. Having brought all the food we needed for the day had given us the chance to stop and eat en route rather than going back to the food stands. Of all the 500 reported species of animals in the park, we saw very few. The coatis, raccoon-sized animals that have become friendly with tourists that will share sandwiches and momentarily forget the backpack at their feet, were reminiscent of the baboons at the Cape of Good Hope, but much less threatening.

Maybe the organization and the infrastructure of the experience would have seemed natural to most foreigners familiar with national parks in the US, but having experienced national parks in other developing countries, Laura and I were blown away by this place. While the in-park train was slightly reminiscent of an amusement park, it was overall minimalist and devoid of gimmicks while being accessible to people with small children and older people.

After getting back and cleaning up, we went into town for dinner, starting with a street stand owned by a Brazilian family selling plates of delicious picadas: olives, salami, and cheese. Once again we turned in early.

Today we got up in time to pack up and eat breakfast before checking out. Gretchen and I visited the Casa de Botellas Plasticas across the street from the hostel. While it seemed to just be a gimmick, the man running the show and his son had a well-delivered environmental message. He travels around the area with his contraptions sharing his technique with the locals (who are bound to be strapped for resources in this part of the country), encouraging them to be more creative in finding economical ways of re-using the waste they generate.

Around 3 pm, we loaded the bus back to Bs As, this time in "super cama," less than $2 more than the seats that we had on the way to the falls, but the seats reclined completely into a bed. Laura and I took the opportunity to do some yoga stretches to really prepare us for the long trip ahead.

Mate

Very few of the indigenous traditions seem to have withstood the urbanization and westernization of Buenos Aires. Walking around the city, I see only Western clothing (in contrast to Santa Cruz where traditional dress was common among the poorer citizens), few people or businesses take siesta any more, and the staple foods are pizza, pasta, and hamburgers. However, there is one tradition that seems to have remained--mate. It's a hot drink made of yerba mate (photo of the tree on the left) consumed from an apparatus consisting of a gourd-like cup called mate and a metal straw called a bombillo. Dried loose leaves from an indigenous tree sold in many varieties in every store are poured into the mate cup. Then hot water is poured over the leaves and the infused liquid is sucked up through the straw that contains a filter preventing the leaves from entering. Customarily, one person drains the liquid, and the cup is refilled with hot water using the same leaves and passed to the next drinker. At every work meeting there is a cup of mate being passed around. Drinking mate seems to transcend ages and social classes. On weekend afternoons in the park, you'll see couples or families with their thermos of hot water and mate, passing around the cup. Mate cocido is sold in tea bags for those who don't have their apparatus handy.

Argentinisms

I've been gathering some Spanish words and phrases that amuse me when they turn up frequently here in everyday speech.

obvio--technically, it's any different from the English word "obviously" but whereas in English it could come out sounding like "duh, of course, that's obvious, idiot" it comes across here as a reassuring "sure, sure"

lógico--also just like the English word "logical" but it's used much more frequently here, and most often said twice in succession "lógico, lógico." People use it as though saying, "Okay, I follow you."

Que sé yo?--(where yo is pronounced as a mix between "jo" and "sho") directly translated as "What do I know?" yet instead of portraying lack of confidence or clueless-ness, it's used in conversation as a filler when someone is making a proposal or is speculating about something that is uncertain. For instance "Maybe instead of asthma being caused by eosinophils, maybe, que sé yo, their presence is the result of something else which also causes asthma."

Así que...--an over-used connector used to mean anything from "...so..." to "...and that's why...." To explain why you can't make it to dinner you might say: "We went out late last night así que I'm tired since work starts early así que I need a nap así que I'm not sure I'll make it to dinner tonight así que you all should go without me"

more to come as they are uncovered....

No, I don't have a boyfriend

One of the few things here that is consistent with other places I've traveled is that people are insistent that I should have a boyfriend. No, not at home, but here. I'm not just talking about guys trying out new pick-up lines; I'm talking about non-single people at work, Zina (the host mother), and the couple who I'm renting from. The truth is that Buenos Aires seems like any big city, where everyone goes about their business in a hurry, and there's very little opportunity to meet anyone. Plus, everyone I have met, both men and women, is paired off with someone. I guess that's why it's strange to them that I don't have a boyfriend.

Interestingly, it is not uncommon for couples here to skip marriage even when they decide to have children. The significant transition in relationships seems to occur when young people move out of their parents house to live with their partner, which often doesn't occur until they're over 25 years old, and rarely does anyone live on their own in between. No wonder young couples spend so much time making out in public--they don't have anywhere private to go!

I am a terrible mouse mother

I arrived today to see that two of my pups are dead and the rest are looking weak and dehydrated. When I tried to feed them it was as though they forgot how to suckle. I was feeling very discouraged all morning, then Leandro, the vet who takes care of all the mice came in the afternoon and I explained how things were going. One of the ones that died had been one of the bigger, stronger ones, so we decided to look inside the abdomen for clues. We found air in the stomach and intestines and a very full bladder. Then we looked more closely at the living pups and could see a large transparent part through their pink skin where the bladder should be. Leandro said that the mother is supposed to help them void their bladders, but for some reason she must not be doing it. So, we gently squeezed out their urine, and suddenly they were much more eager to eat!

One thing I love is to watch the surrogate mother gather them back up into her nest. I take them out of the cage multiple times per day and return them colder and wetter (a lot of the milk doesn't make it into the mouth), and she gathers them in her mouth, takes them back to the nest and licks them off like nothing ever happened. And she does this again and again all day long. When I leave her alone for a few minutes, she just sits on them to keep them warm, and they probably suckle at her milkless nipples. She's tireless.

They're still looking pretty bad (especially when compared to the maternally reared mice of the same age), so I'm feeling weary about the project. I tried not to get worked up about dying mice, especially since I kill them happily in my kitchen--but this represents failed parenting. Maybe it was overly ambitious to think I could mother 16 pups at once; better to start with 5 and see how that goes. There's just not enough time this summer for me to raise them 5 at a time.

Settling in

Carolina, the woman renting the apartment with the awesome view, had to do some repairs on the apartment and told me she would need a week. Since I absolutely had to move on Monday and didn't want to move back to the hostel for a couple days before moving to an apartment, I settled for a slightly smaller, less central place. But it's mine!! And I love the young couple who rented it to me. Federico spent 30 minutes reading over the contract with me to make sure I understood everything (it was in Spanish). I spent Monday evening preparing my nest--unpacking bags, putting groceries in the cabinets and refrigerator, moving around the furniture, and looking around the neighborhood for the closest washing service, restaurant, etc.

The past two days, I have removed two litters of mouse pups to a surrogate mother who has adopted the pups as her own (she keeps them warm and cleans them) but since her mammary glands have been removed, she cannot nurse. So, these 16 little guys (by little I mean 2-3 grams each) are relying entirely on me for their daily calories and nutrients. They only eat about 0.6 g of milk/day, but they can't take it all at once. I spent most of my day in the mouse room feeding them with a pipette, running out every 30 minutes to warm the formula. They're all pink and hairless, and they get cold if they're out of the cage for too long. As I sat and watched "Sex in the City" I last night at the movie theater, caught myself thinking about them and hoping that they had gotten enough food during the day to last through the night. I woke up at 5 am having dreamt about them and wondering if it was time to feed them. I can't get into the lab until 9 am, so I eventually got back to sleep. This mothering is stressful!

The theater for Sex in the City was almost full, and fortunately they just put subtitles on English-language movies here rather than dubbing it in Spanish (except for kids' movies). The assigned seats in the theater through me for a loop.

apartment hunting

There's an article in the NYtimes written by an American living in Buenos Aires with a few good photos of the city. I looked at an apartment yesterday overlooking the same park (although only on the 6th floor)--cross your fingers that it's mine on Monday!

Clinical project dead; Now mother of 40

After creating a database for the project and spending 3 mornings at the doctors office pouring through patient records (30+ visits kept literally on large sized index cards taped together), we have concluded that this is an exciting idea, but non-Spanish speaking non-doctors cannot get reliable data on asthma from patient records written in illegible Spanish by a private physician in the 1960's - 90's, especially since the word "asma" was never used in order to prevent traumatizing the family.

So, instead I'll be spending many hours a day feeding baby formula to 40 newborn mice (tag-teaming with the resident veterinarian) in order to determine the length of breast-feeding needed for a protective effect against RSV. This is an important question, and it will give me lots of experience with mice, so I think that's enough to keep me going for the summer.

Cacerolazos

Returning last night from Rosario, I walked around with Yamini looking for a place to grab some dinner, preferably something containing vegetables after a carb- and meat-heavy weekend. As we walked from one parrilla (restaurant serving a variety grilled meats) to another, we started hearing people throughout the neighborhood banging rhythmically on pots. Some were in the streets, but many were sitting at the windows or balconies of their upper floor apartments. Car horns added to the clamor as we wondered which side was expressing itself, since there had been both protests by the farmers against the government and protests from government supporters over the weekend. It was an impressive show of unity, but the precise message didn't come across very clearly, at least not to us. The same technique was used during the economic crash of 2001, and they became known as the cacerolazos (the resemblance to the word casserole is not coincidental.

In a happy conclusion to our restaurant search, we found a great place by Yamini's apartment called A Manger, in the style of a French sandwich shop with all sorts of homemade salamis and cheeses. Accompanied by Argentine artisenal beer, it wasn't exactly the vegetable-friendly meal we were looking for, but it was de-licious!

Today we have heard all sorts of additional warnings about protests planned for tomorrow. Within 4 blocks of each other there are protests in support of and against the government being planned--the Peronistas (government supporters) in Plaza de Mayo and the casaroles (pot-banging agricultural sector) at the Obelisco. In addition, all of the transportation workers
are purportedly planning to strike at noon, effectively shutting the city down, if no resolution has been reached by then. Many of the middle class and poor Portenos, who might usually sympathize with the complaints being expressed by the heavily taxed agricultural sector,
are getting fed-up with the increase in price and decrease in availability of certain foods, resulting from the road blocks preventing transport into the city. Therefore, the city's transport people support the government as members of the middle and poor classes are taking the side of the Peronist government.

I hope I got all that right.

Rosario

June 20 is the day of the flag here in Argentina, but for the convenience of a 3-day weekend, they celebrated it yesterday. The creator of the flag, Manuel Belgrano, was an Argentine General who was born in Rosario, and June 20 is the anniversary of his death. Along with the two Americans at the lab, I headed about 3oo km up the Parana River to the site of el Monumento de la Bandera (monument for the flag), the birthplace of Che Guevara (whose 80th birthday was this past weekend), and Argentina's 3rd largest city. A few Argentines and travelers I had met warned us that we were likely to face problems on the roads because the farmers have renewed their strike in response to an increase in the export taxes, but the trip was uneventful. Although a little dated, the double-decker bus was quite luxurious with only three seats across and fully reclining seats. The only matter of discomfort was the profane cartoon drawing that someone had scribbled on the back of the seat in front of me--I quickly found a solution!

We had read in the guidebook that Rosario contained over one million inhabitants, but the streets were quite calm when we first arrived. After finding the first three hostels we visited completely booked, finally a hotel owner called around to other establishments to find us a place to stay for the weekend, proving the friendliness of the Rosarinos in general. It was refreshing to have someone take the time to help out, since the only Argentines I've been exposed to are the generally rushed Portenos (natives of BA). After checking in, we walked to the river and had a long lunch of steak and wine in a cozy place with a wood burning fireplace. In the summer, this turns into a beach town that hosts people from the surrounding countryside and young people from BA who sunbathe on the riverbanks and take boats out to the various islands in the river.

At night we went out to Madam, a "boliche" (dance club) in town that by the end of the night must have contained more than 3000 young dancers on three different dance floors. The night life here doesn't start up until around 1 am and everyone heads home at 6 am. Gretchen, the person with us who best knows the BA night-life confirmed that she's never seen such a huge place in the capital and that Rosario is known for its impressive joda (nightlife). I guess everyone had been napping all day to show their best face at the club.

We dragged ourselves out of bed on Sunday to check out a local artisan fair, the 80th birthday concert celebrating Che Guevera, and the monument to the flag. Between the fair and the monument we stumbled upon a public dance class (that we ended up joining for a bit) and a small rock concert. For this reason, we had a chance to see the monument lit up!

Mirtha

Today soon after we got back from the Dr.'s office, the chicas told us they were going to a nearby restaurant for lunch to see Fernando on TV. I joined the outing imagining that there would be a quick interview on the mid-day news. Little did I know that he was going to be one of the guests on "Almorzando con Mirtha Legrand." In trying to explain her status in Argentine society, I was told she is like a Barbara Walters. But she's such an icon here that people refer to her by one name, "Mirtha," or "la Senora." She spent the first 30 minutes of the 1.5 hour show promoting a variety of products, including the dress she was wearing. After about 10 close-ups of the dress, the chicas told me that she is over 80 years old! She was a movie star here, then started this program 40 years ago. Finally, they got to the lunch, where the guests were introduced. Since this weekend is Father's day, all the guests were men, and there was a theme of children and fatherhood. I quickly learned that on this show, everything is grand, everything is marvelous, and then you move on to the next subject. The whole thing looked painful and artificial. But, Fernando got some publicity for his research and his foundation.

When Fernando got back to the office, everyone gathered around to hear how it went from the inside. I didn't understand most of what was said because he was mostly using Argentine slang. I did figure out that the whole thing had been quite tiring and stressful. Understandably, it's awkward to try to eat on national television while trying to get a word in edgewise with very camera hungry company.

The whole thing has educated me about a piece of Argentine culture, that I may not have been exposed to without sharing a house with Argentines. On that subject, I decided not to take the homestay option, and I'm finally moving into my apartment tomorrow!!!

Lab vs. Clinic

I came here this summer in an effort to get a little experience with basic lab techniques and procedures. Monday was my first day, and I first met with Flor, the post-doc who is the day-to-day manager of the lab. She gave me an outline of an idea for a feasible project I could carry out this summer, and sent me off with a bunch of articles to read. She and Fernando recently got a bunch of press over an article they published in Pediatrics showing that among high risk infants, breast-feeding was much more effective in protecting girls against severe respiratory infection than boys. Flor suggested I could design a short study comparing of the protective effect of different durations of breast-feeding on lung infection in mice pups.

Later that morning, Fernando met with all the junior people in the lab (including me) to enumerate all the current projects and ensure that the distribution of the work makes sense. During the meeting he suggested I could look at particular receptors in the lungs of young mice (specifically estrogen and muscarine receptors) that may be responsible for the differential reaction of girls and boys to breast milk. I start reading and feel a little overwhelmed by all the basic science and lab techniques I will need to learn to make this happen in the two months I am here. Not even quite sure where to start. Yet I felt reassured that no matter which project I do or whether or not I get interesting results, I will walk away from here knowing vastly more about the lab and basic science research than I did on arrival.

Fast forward to today--Fernando comes in to talk to me and the two other American students (Yamini just finished her 1st year at Vanderbilt Med, and Gretchen is about to start her senior year at Georgetown) to share a side project with us: maybe the controversy over the connection between breast-feeding and asthma can be explained by gender? Think about it. Then he comes back 15 minutes later with a simple way of potentially answering this question using some medical files he has access to here. Fernando walks out of the room and I'm thinking--I can wrap my head around this! The mention of this project gets my wheels turning--this feels comfortable. Yes, let's make this study happen! Gretchen, on the other hand (a molecular bio major), expresses to me and Yamini how unfamiliar clinical studies are to her, and we felt consoled in having each other to lean on. My instinct is to take the clinical project and run with it, but it could crumble and fall tomorrow. A lab project could be educational, but maybe it's silly to force myself into that project when there's a perfectly good clinical study staring me in the face. Time will tell, and much of this decision is out of my hands, but it has left me pondering.

Weather report

It’s really cold here. I’m not just whining—weather.com tells me it’s 39 F. Someone told me this weekend that this isn’t winter; this is just fall. July and August, now that's winter. They were proud to tell me that last year it snowed in Buenos Aires for the first time in about 70 years. BUT this time I’m prepared!! And what warm clothes I didn’t bring, I can buy more stylish and inexpensive ones here. And many of the leaves have fallen off the trees. I don’t feel like I’m in Latin America. It's confusing to look down at the bottom of my screen where I get automatic weather updates and see that it's 98 F in Baltimore today.

Zina

In the last few days before I left, I was talking to someone I worked with in Programa Salud over the past year, and she told me she had studied abroad in Buenos Aires in 2001 and is still in touch with her host mom, Zina, who would love to host me. I had been planning to rent an apartment here, and I've been staying at the hostel while I get familiar enough with the area to decide on a more permanent (and more private and quiet) location. When I got an email from Dana with Zina's info, I started to think about how nice it could be to have a family here, people who could help advise me in the city during my first month until Laura gets here in July when I will also have more incentive to go out at night. Plus I was imagining the money I could spend on fun activities and warm clothes here.

I called Zina this morning, and unfortunately she has two boys (Blake from Philly and Jonathan from USC) in her apartment right now, making it a full house, but she invited me to dinner last night to talk about options. She lives in a big apartment building built over 40 years ago in a modest apartment. She grew up in Chile, has visited relatives in California twice, and worked in Israel for two years. She speaks amazing English, some Hebrew, German, and of course Spanish. Even though

She didn't let me leave the house before going through her album of all the students she has hosted over the years (almost 10 years by now of non-stop hosting). She told me that after her husband died, she had a 17 year old daughter and no source of income. She feared she would loose the apartment, until a friend suggested she host foreign students. She earns about $20/day for housing and feeding each student breakfast and dinner. It became apparent that more than the financial security they bring her, the company and opportunity for her to mother (now that her daughter is out of the house) has become a major source of joy for her.

As for the idea of staying with a family for the month of June (until Laura arrives), I'm not convinced it's my best option. Zina has a friend who has space, but at $20/day it would be the same price as living in an apartment ($600/month), and I would have less freedom in my schedule. I'm eager to be in the kitchen myself, and this family (actually an upper class couple--Zina emphasized how big their house is) is hosting other students now. The location is likely to be less convenient too. As much as it would be to have a "family" here, I think my independence will win out on this one. Plus, I already feel like Zina has filled my need for family here. I'm supposed to call this other host mom tomorrow.

They think I'm from here

It’s funny for me to be in a new city where I feel out of place and so obviously foreign, but no one suspects that I feel that way. Today a lady on the street stopped me to ask directions. She quickly realized that I was not as clued in as she had hoped, but it was shocking and nice to be confused for a local. This just shows what a diverse city this is--it's a real mix of people from a huge variety of backgrounds, although shockingly few people with truly dark skin. I stopped to talk to this guy Sylvester from South Africa today who was selling cheap jewelry on the street. He told me about how terribly he is treated by Argentines, and that he began by working construction here but couldn't stand being the "slave" of an Argentine boss. He says they have a small community here, but he can't wait to make enough money and get himself back to his home country and away from "these Spanish people." Pretty strong words coming from a South African.

It's also possible that people don't look at me funny here because no one looks at each other at all. I'm more accustomed to traveling to small towns where people know each other rather than big cities where people act anonymous. This is a reminder that I can't act like I'm in a small town where people take care of each other. Of course there are plenty of helpful people who are happy to help me figure out the bus system or give me directions, but I can't count on everyone to be watching out for each other.

Random American References

Understandably, there is strong Italian influence here, and you can find pizzerias around every corner, and pasta is a staple at every steakhouse. So why did they name a restaurant that serves Italian food where the waiters dress accordingly in stereotypical Italian chef garb after a southern American state?
Strangely enough, a new local friend pointed out while he was giving me a tour of the city that one of the more exclusive restaurants in town is called "Kansas."

Adaptation

I knew it would happen eventually, but didn't think I'd fall victim in less than 48 hours. In my defense, the saleswoman told me my choices for the empanada were "carne, queso, o posho," so I repeated her third offer, even though I meant "pollo."

Wandering in BA

I've arrived in Buenos Aires!!

With the whole subletting fiasco (subletter ditched 5 days before I left then I replaced him with a much more awesome one), and since those other students were happy that they had waited to find places until they got here, I decided to let the housing decision wait until now. So, I got in this morning, and I'm in a hostel in Palermo Viejo. The majority of travelers here seem to be from the US, but there's a French couple, a Greek woman, and some young Brits. It's fascinating to me that Americans come here and sit in their hostel watching American movies (like the one that is in the background now).

I went to check out one place this morning. Lucia, the woman who is renting it lives there herself (uncommon), and she has books and CDs that i presume she will leave there--makes it feel more like home. She's going to Paris for 3 months and is subletting. It's right between an area with lots of restaurants and the area with lots of parks (and one block from the subway), but I can't tell if it's close enough to either the parks or restaurants to make it totally convenient. Then this afternoon I saw the cheapest place I had found ($500) and the people were nice, but the place was pretty shabby. Location was pretty good, but very little light. even though everyone has recommended Palermo, I might check out some places outside the neighborhood tomorrow. I haven't been to the center of town yet, so I'll have to see what that has to offer.

I ate a huge lunch (chicken club with freshly cooked chicken and bacon with a huge salad) at this French cafe called "Oui, Oui" for $10 (including bottled water and tip), and that seems to be the high end for food here. I walked past a number of amazing restaurants, a lot of them on a street called Humbolt. I'm excited to hit those with Laura when she comes! While it's cheap here, I have found myself dividing prices by 7 (the bolivian exchange rate) when I should be dividing by 3 (the argentine rate). I need to watch that.