By the numbers

It has been 13 months since I found myself on a plane to Miami, chatting with a toe-sock inventor and feeling pretty darn sad and nervous. 13 months since I was at the airport with my dad, listening to him rant about his treatment by the French on his visit to Paris ("I'm going to learn French and show those assholes!"). 13 months since I surrendered my cellphone to Eliza (and 12. 5 months since she dropped it in the toilet), 13 months since I shared one last cup of coffee in Clementine with Joey and L. Coco, closing an epic season of coffee shop adventures, 13 months since I saw so many friends and family, since I watched something stupid on MTV while I sunk ever deeper into the recliner, and 13 months since I had one last Chango's taco.

In those 13 months, I've kept pretty busy. I've crossed the Argentina-Chile border 7 times (but only once been harrassed to explain what the heck is a frisbee in front of all my co-travelers). I've learned and forgotten Chilean slang used nowhere else in the world. I've lived in 5 places and stayed for a while in plenty more. I've been invited to the table of people I barely know (a decision oft regretted once they saw how much this Loomis likes to eat). I've celebrated Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day, my birthday, Saint Patrick's Day, 4th of July, Halloween and Thanksgiving, not to mention 25 de Mayo, Dia del Amigo and Dia de la Primavera. On plenty of those holidays, I've been homesick. I don't know the number of calls to the U.S., but it surely wasn't enough. I've taught approximately 350 English classes and a couple of cutting, gluing and coloring classes disguised as English classes. I've made wonderful friends from Argentina, Texas, Chile, Germany and Chicago, and one enemy from New Jersey. I've read 32 books, written 3 songs (weak, Joey, I know), and become a fan of 2 soap operas.

And now, on Thursday morning, after 13 months and 2 days with my feet in South America, I will step back onto American soil! And for as much as I've changed in this year, surely everything else has too. My dad probably has a few more gray hairs, my mom a few more highlights, my bro some new t-shirts and my sis a new boyfriend. Everybody's got new jobs and is living in houses I've never visited, there's a new president-elect and a Hey Cupcake! on Burnet Road.

It's been 13 months... and I am so ready for a visit home. Stock up the Honey Bunches of Oats, bean and cheese tacos and Nada Chicken subs, I'm on my way!

Thanksgiving!

Last Thursday, we celebrated Thanksgiving in the house! We somehow found a turkey, everyone brought salads, and, miracle of miracles, my first ever apple pie, made with highly approximate quantities of ingredients, was edible! (Note, not exactly the FIRST... attempt .5 was a pile of salty dust with apples on top). Although few people got into the whole go-in-a-circle-and-say-what-you´re-grateful-for, we did read aloud the history of Thanksgiving. This was necessary, since more than one Argentine celebrant insisted that the holiday commemorated the time that the Pilgrams killed and ate the Native Americans. I had to explain that the massacre of the native populations of the U.S. came AFTER the meal of brotherhood and harmony!

Mariachi Mujeres

The other three housemates in a card for Vicky´s birthday:

First Injured Student

I guess it was a rite of passage... On my last day of real classes at Hogwarts (next weeks it´s final exams and ceremonial stuff), in the last fifteen minutes of the last class, one of my eleven year old diablitos, also the daughter of my boss, pulled out the chair from under one of the sweeter, freckly boys in the class (in general the girls in this class are incredibly cruel to the boys), who fell and hit his neck on the chair. He was okay a little bit later, but what a fright! And here I am thinking that teaching in public school with giant classes, if that´s what I end up doing, will be a breeze! Yikes.

Obama-rama!

I would have given anything to have been in the US on November 4th, surrounded by my friends, family and fellow Americans, eating "Joe Bite-ems" cookies and drinking "Obama's White House Cabernit" wine (Jazmyne Crunk, you are a genius!). However, I was still here in Argentina.

Although some Argentines really have no idea about the U.S. elections (when my Teens 4 students hear "McCain", they think of a popular brand of French fries, and an unnamed housemate remarked on November 3rd, "oh, Obama is black?" This was closely followed by, "wow, good-lookin´") the majority know enough, certainly more than your average US citizen could tell you about Argentine elections. Election day, all the front pages were about the elections, from normal comments on the match-up to the less subtle titles ("UN NEGRO EN LA CASA BLANCA?") A lady at the restaraunt where I always buy my vegetarian empanadas remarked, "I want to name my dog Barack."

10 p.m., November 4th found me pacing anxiously around my house, waiting for a call from James, an Oregoner I had met a couple of days earlier at a bar. I sniffed him out as a fellow expat when I overheard his drunk Argentine buddy explaining, in simple Spanish, how to hit on a señorita argentina. Normally I avoid people from the motherland, but it was 5 days to election day, and desperate times call for desperate measures.
ME: "Where are you from?"
JAMES: "Los Estados Unidos."
ME: "Nice, me too! Obama?"
JAMES: "Obama."
ME: "Do you have cable?"
JAMES: "Yeah."
ME: "Wanna get together to watch the elections?"
JAMES: "Okay."
Done and done. But fast-forward to Tuesday, and no sign of my only connection to one of the most historic moments in the history of my country! The three channels on our TV were showing semi-nude water-dancing competitions, a game show and a soap opera (granted, the soap opera I am addicted to, but TODAY WAS NOT THE DAY!). The two computers in the house were occupied by their respective owners. I was a wreck. So, I did what I always do when I feel the hyperventilation a comin'.... called the mothership.

My mom was in New Mexico being lawyerly and making sure the voting process was legal (a.k.a. partying it up with her fellow Obamaniacs). She reminded me that it was only 5:00 in New Mexico, and that nothing had happened yet. Phew. Finally, James called, and I ran-walked the 20 or so blocks to the hostel where another American, a Californian named Bradley, lived. Relieved, I planted myself in front of the tv.

The truth is, for all the nerves, I didn't pay that much attention for the first few hours. Every time I would see that a state had been won, it was only after 2 percent of the vote had been counted. So, a little more wine and chitchat, then glance again. 3 percent. 4 percent. McCAIN MAKING HIS CONCESSION SPEECH!

I couldn't believe it was over. Although we watched McCain´s speech in dubbed Spanish, the Argentines were gracious enough to let us change Obama´s to English. In that moment, I didn't care that I was with a bunch of perfect strangers far far away from the US of A (but not as far as to be included in Obama's "forgotten corners of the world").

Yesterday, when buying sunscreen, the pharmacist asked me where I was from. It was the approximately 1,327th time I've been asked that question, but the 1st time I felt excited and proud to give my answer.

I'm cheating on my vegetable stand.

One of the things I most love about Córdoba, and my specific area in Córdoba, is I can walk to get almost anything I need, including vegetables. That means that almost every day I can go to a vegetable stand, pick out what I want for lunch and or dinner (or, knowing me and my lazy habit of cooking way too much so that I only have to re-heat, for lunch and dinner and lunch and dinner etc etc). This is highly preferible to my Vassar schedule of bumming a ride to the grocery store every two weeks, buying a bunch of produce and subsequently learning a lot of hard lessons in the form of very, very soft tomatoes, carrots and bananas.
Here I even have my neighborhood vegetable stand: less than one block a way, a wide variety, a vegetable guy with whom I have the chummy neighborhood rapport I always dreamed of, and it's even owned by my housemate Vicky´s aunt, so I´m practically part of the family. Perfect, right?

Wrong. The problems started with a few mushy apples, and then snowballed into not one, but TWO worm-in-miniature-squash incidents. As I sadly handled my white-on-the-inside carrots or green-on-the-inside tomatoes, I would hear Vicky´s siren song in my ear. "There's another way.... look at my tomatoes, so red and perfect.... I've had these bananas in my basket for two weeks and they're fresher than the prince of Belair....come on, you deserve better..."
Finally, I gave in and asked her where she was buying. Hey, I thought, if Vicky could abandon her family vegetable stand (discount and all) for better quality, why couldn't I do the same?
I walked the couple of blocks to her place: Onda Verde, a chain (gasp!) of self-service (double gasp!), expensive (triple gasp!) veggies. I bought a few samplers and took them home.

Delicious. My 5 dishes I always make took on new life, and I discovered a new world where opening the produce bag wasn't a game of Russian roulette. Everything was fine, until I walked by the old stand. "Hey, why haven't you come by lately?" my vegetable man friend called as I scurried past.
What could I say? I don't eat vegetables anymore? I´m on a bread and meat diet? I forgot?
No. I couldn't lie. But I'm also a conflict-averse coward. So what do I do?
That's right folks, I am now going to two vegetable stands, often two visits in the same day. Onda Verde for the important stuff, and my first place for whatever´s safe: potatoes, a beet, a packet of juice. It is truly pathetic... but I just can't make the break!

Test your skillz!

So nothing beats the Ultimate frisbee universe, but Argentina has a pretty good supply of weird nicknames that have nothing to do with the person's actual name. Try this quiz to see if you can key into the Argentine mindset!
REAL NAMES
a. Valentin
b. Lucas
c. Manuel
d. Andrea
e. Ernesto

NICKNAMES
1. Ta Ta
2. La Huevo
3. Pity (pronounced Petey)
4. Persona
5. Pee Pee. Not kidding.

Answers: a, 3; b, 4; c, 1;d, 2; e, 5

The Dark Side to Teacher´s Day

On what was probably my last Teacher's Day gift (a rustic picture frame) I found this tag.
"A teacher is like a candle. It consumes itself to light the way for others."
WHOA, I did not sign up for THAT!

Happy Teacher's Day to Me!

Remember when I was mocking all the ridiculous holidays in Argentina? Well that was until today, September 11 2008, aka Teacher's Day! The gifts have been pouring in! My booty includes:
an incense holder and incense
a tank top
a potted plant
a homemade card
metallic pens
a pencil case
two Agatha Christies (!!)
and an all-expense-paid-PLUS-dessert dinner with the boss lady!
For those of you who were unaware of this important holiday, not to worry, there's still time!Look at previous blog entries to find my address. As long as they are postmarked September 11th, I won't deduct any points for tardiness of gifts.

September 16th update-
the gifts keep pouring in! two bags of chewy candy AND a little scarf!

Un Sábado cualquiera

Hola! So I haven´t written in a while! Mainly because, although I am still trying to be adventurous and do new things, I have found a pretty pleasant, not very bloggable routine here. However, after a dear Austinite friend told me that her image of all countries Mexico and below was "a combination of the jungle and the San Antonio riverwalk," I decided to take her suggestion and write just a little bit about daily life in Córdoba.
Last Saturday, I did my traditional Saturday jog around the plaza about a block from my house (see what I mean about routine? I did change the route up a little bit though!) Afterwards I plopped down to stretch and watch people. In order to not appear creepy, I had to keep a quick rotation. Here´s what I saw.
(I am going to use the present tense to add some of the excitement that might be missing due to a lack of dangerous protests, mysterious Latin lovers or strange cuts of meat).
On my left, there are three or four separate pairs of girls, all drinking maté, silver thermoses in their laps. Thanks to my new, lovely, estrogen-filled housing arrangement, I no longer look at female friends and long desperately for them to turn to me and invite me into their circle. It feels nice. On my right, there are about 25 kids (who would hate to be called kids) between the ages of 13 and 17. Judging by their long, carefully placed bangs, tight pants and gender-blind eye makeup, I would probably say they are floggers. Do floggers exist in the US? Well, just in case they don´t, floggers are a weird hybrid of emo, hipster and a little bit of goth, plus lots of colors. The name comes from the fact that there biggest activity (besides meeting up in plazas) is taking pictures of themselves and putting them on fotolog. As is the case with most "urban tribes," they probably would not call themselves floggers. I like them because at least they stray from the standard Córdoba uniform of tight jeans, tight striped purple sweaters, boots and long layered hair (girls) and boring t-shirts and jeans (boys). They look friendly, and one girl even has a kitchen pot with some sort of delicious snack in it. I resist asking for a bite.
By the fountain there´s a GIANT man who might be a flogger except for his black fishnet sleeve on one arm and some chains dangling from his black pants. He is calling someone on the phone, and he is annoyed. Finally, about ten minutes later, his friends arrive. They are also "onda dark", and I smile as they all greet each other with kisses on the cheek. They may be rebellious in their clothing, but you still gotta follow some societal norms. I love Argentina.
My favorite part of the plaza is the dogs (as long as I don´t lie in their poop). They are so spunky and full of personality, a little gang of British street urchins grabbing cookies from wherever they can get 'em. Just cause they are independent, however, does not mean they don´t need love. One big, stinky guy curls up to a hippie girl who appears to be studying. The fact that she lets him lay his head in her lap makes my day.

Word of the Day: Quilombo

"Quilombo," n, African origin, def. :bordello, used vulgarly in Argentina and other South American countries to describe a big, fat mess. Also the word my housemate Vicky uttered about 15 times this morning as she sat glued to the tv screen, smoking a cigarette in her bathrobe.
Our house is a block away from the municipality and the provincial courts, so at least once a week you´re bound to see groups of people protesting with drums, banners, explosions that sound like shotguns in your ear, and, on one occasion (an ambulance driver's strike) the wafting melodies of a dozen dischordant sirens going off at the same time. So, when I came back from an early English class this morning around 9:30, I didn´t think much about the group of about 100 people gathered in front of my door, this time protesting today's legislative vote to drastically cut retirement benefits throughout the province of Córdoba (I briefly considered going out to the balcony and pulling an Evita. Then I reconsidered.) However, as Vicky and I watched the news throughout the morning, I realized this protest was much bigger than average... the little group on our street met up with tons of other little groups to form (according to the news) 4 "fronts" of 10,000 protesters, all moving towards the legislative building where the vote was taking place. By around 12:30, things were really messy. The tv showed police in guard uniforms with the big shields and everything, detaining and shooting rubber bullets at groups of mainly young men throwing stones, smoke bombs, even burning a tree in the main plaza of Córdoba. According to Vicky, these "quilomberos" most likely don´t even care about the cause, but are hired by the union leaders to cause trouble... they even cover their faces so that anybody watching tv won't realize that it's the same guys that two weeks ago, for example, were protesting something completely different.
Around 1:30 I headed to the terminal to try to find a bus to Hogwarts, and it was crazy!! GHOST TOWN! So many streets blocked off, those dramatic-looking squadrons of police officers standing with their shields all around. As I got on the bus, I felt guilty for this vague sensation of, "Aw man, I´m going to miss all the fun." But at least I´m not the only one: I overheard a guy describing the action on his cellphone with a huge grin on his face, and Vicky gleefully confessed, "I love quilombo." After all, what is a protest if not a spectacle? I guess the question is if all the lights and explosions will actually make a difference. Stay tuned.

Hot dogs, etc.

Whoops! Haven't written in a while! So, here's the newest dish in the life of the Abmeister....
1. Still teachin English. All you patriots out there will be glad to know that we had not one, not two, but THREE 4th of July celebrations here at Hogwarts, complete with my off-key, eleven-year-old-boy-giggle-inducing rendition of America the Beautiful and hot dogs, of course (on the left are some photos).
2. I just can´t get enough of Chile! Early June I went to visit my Zapallar Chicagoan pal Bekah (here pictured eating a papapleto, a delicious french fry guacamole hot dog creation) in Viña del Mar. We went into Valparaiso, the Coolest City on the Planet... but we also spent a LOT of time in Bekah's wonderful cloudlike bed watching CABLE! It was awesome.
3. The biggest news is that, for almost two wonderful weeks, I got to see my MOM AND SISTER! Yep, Debby and Lize spent the second half of their independence day on a plane to Buenos Aires, where I met them early the morning of the 5th. We did it up, a little Buenos Aires sightseeing , lots of beauty treatments, , a visit to the north to see the puny Iguazú Falls, and wonderful visits to Mendoza and Córdoba where mom and lize got to meet a few of the characters I have come into contact with in my time here in Argentina. It was all I could have hoped for: hugs, chatting, early morning bickering, and the chance to show my family my life down here.
4. Speaking of that, things are going well in my new house (knock on wood). Right before Mom and Lize arrived we had a "Fiesta Dark" to bid farewell to very slightly goth German housemate Yvonne. (Here's the girls preparing SANGRE-IA... get it? totally my idea!)
CHAU!

Why is my yogurt so expensive?

In case you haven't heard, stuff is going a bit crazy here in Argentina! The farmers are striking because of a new government export tax, and have blocked the roads, which has led to food shortages (or super high prices) in grocery stores, a trucker's strike, super expensive/ non-existent gas, and a lot of worried and/or frustrated Argentines. Here's a few links about it!
http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/americas/05/28/farm.strike/index.html
http://noticias.aol.com/articulos/_a/argentine-leader-demands-end-to-farmers/n20080618234609990001

Ridiculous Wizard Behavior of the Day

Today I caught my Juniors 3 class passing around a paper in which they all meticulously had entered attractiveness ratings for each other on a scale from 1-10 (For example, Agustina- 8.3). I let it slide once I got them to declare me a perfect 10, although I think they were just sucking up to get an extension on their test.

Movin' on out... again

Sunday night, after one last girly chat over tea and pastries, I left wonderful Pau and her wonderful apartment and moved into my newest residence! I got to the house, a big place in the centro with two Cordoba girls and a German, and sat down to eat my lentils. Suddenly I realized... instead of the glorious big screen filled with cable, there was a hilariously ancient tv! No computer with internet at my disposal! No private room! WHAT HAD I DONE?
Well, then I calmed down, and now, four days later, I am glad to say that I am very happy in the new house. I moved there because of the location and the opportunity to meet new people, and both things have been worth it (although I do miss Pau for sure). Sharing a room is so not a big deal, and the lack of a few modern amenities are a good thing... after all, I didn't move to Argentina so I could become obsessed with literally 10 sitcoms and series from the United States! And you, reading public, I think are probably better off if I don't have the ability to jot down every single thing that passes through my brain (phonoaudiologist's day?). Besides, there isn't that much news as of late. My life has become, well, kinda normal lately. ALTHOUGH, in exactly one month from today my mom and sis will be in my loving arms! So that's something to look forward to.
Oh, and my new address:
Corro 93
Centro
Cordoba, Argentina 5000
Bye!

Not exactly the boxing nuns, but...

After lugging my cleats around for 6 months, I finally got to take em out for a little frisbee. Granted, we played for about 30 minutes, it was 6 on 6 at most, with two players under the age of 13, and there were no stacks, marking or organized cheers... but it was great!

Happy Taxi-Driver´s Day!

Recently I called my mom on Mother's Day, without realizing it was Mother's Day! When I explained, she said, "Oh yeah, do they even have Mother's Day there?" The answer: hell yes!(but on a different date). In fact, I would guess that Argentina probably has the most "______ Day"s of any country. In the world. Ever. For example, here's May:
2: Actor's Day
7: Godchild's Day
11: Taxi-driver's Day
11: Nurse's Day
12: Grandchild's Day
12: (my personal favorite) Phonoaudiologist's day (if you are a phonoaudiologist with living grandparents, you should rake in the gifts on this day)
28: Kindergarten teacher's Day

Wizard Quote of the Day

My 8 year old student Luciano: "Teacher, how long will it be before we know all the words in English? A year?"

La Pata Criolla

Sunday night, with the most anticlimactic goodbye ever (an unceremonious handing over the keys and a complete lack of eye contact), I left the Buenos Aires 371 and moved into Bahia Blanca 430. Thank god!
Now I'm living with Paula, a Cordobesa translator, and her bunny Pepito (exhibit a). It's only for a month, until I move into another house with a gaggle of Argentinas in a slightly better location (here I have to cross a semi-sketchy bridge to get to the centro), but I am super content. Paula is friendly, female and not psychotic- three great things I didn't have with my previous renter. She also, I found out on day one, is patient. And boy did I put her to the test.
In Argentine, a common phrase to refer to a human disaster is a "pato criollo," or "farm duck," because, with "cada paso, una cagada"- shits all over with every step. On Monday, day one in the apartment, I was a complete pata criolla. First of all, while helping me with my lunchtime lentils, Paula got a third degree burn on her hand. (Exhibit B) Later that evening, when I went to flush the toilet and couldn't get the thingamajig to work, I ended up opening the top and accidently breaking something inside. P and I thought we fixed it, so we went to chat in the kitchen. MINUTES later, I walked to my room and stepped into a GIANT puddle. I had somehow caused a flood that extended down the hall to Paula's bedroom and deep into mine. Paula insisted on mopping up, but had to stop when her burned hand started to throb with pain. 3 days later we are still flushing with a bucket of water.
But she hasn't kicked me out! Tuesday I successfully cooked twice, and today I made homemade bread!(Exhibit c) Hopefully I won't prove to be such a disaster.

My address for the next month:
Bahía Blanca 430, departamento 30
Juniors
Córdoba, Argentina 5000

Adults are CRAAAAAAAAAAAZY!

So, looks like I was right about the "for now" stuff re: the apartment. In the last couple of weeks, I have watched ol Clau head towards a complete mental breakdown (as evidenced by his simultaneous amassing of cigarettes and nicotine patches). On Wednesday, after I calmly complained about his cancelling the cleaning service we are paying for, he told me, "Abby, dejáme la pieza al fin de mes." Translation :"Abby, leave me the room at the end of the month I AM PSYCHO." After the typical Loomis hysterical crying, I decided to take this as an opportunity to get to know another living space in Córdoba (I have officially given up my dream of stability and getting settled). Right now I'm choosing between two different options (and STILL not talking to Claudio, awkward! The only things he's said to me in 5 days are "clean your room" and "take your feet off the table") that are both pretty sweet. Update soon!

Cordo-duh

Dearest reading public,
So there are a few items on the agenda for today:

1. Emma visited! Just a few days after I got to Còrdoba, she sailed in (okay, hobbled in... she was forced to bring me some winter clothes) to help me get to know my new city. We spent most of our time walking around while Emma filled me in on equal parts Vassar gossip and German history, but we also found time to eat tons of ice cream (with disastrous digestive results for one Loomball), visit pals in Mendoza, hunt a troupe of Argentine male models, marvel at the millions of hairwraps that populate this country, throw the frisbee in the park, go see a movie, go to the country, eat pizza with Lizzy Roehm, and hug a lot. A wonderful treat. Oh, and the backstory on this photo : believe it or not, the matching outfits occured on accident! Em and I both wanted to surprise the other one by sneaking off and trying on these hilarious pants (we were already both wearing the shirts). Great minds think alike I guess.
!

2. The apartment: So, for now*, I am living with quite the interesting cast of characters. Here's the rundown, Seventeen-magazine-survey-style:
Claudio Montenegro, a.k.a. Clau
Age: 40 somethin
Interests: Cirque du Soleil dvds, herbal relaxation (this is deduced from the name of his cat, a kind of marijuana), his daughters who he is currently fighting for custody of, constantly lurking in the living room.
Giani, a.k.a. Gigi a.k.a. Franchute
Age: 22
Interests: Europop, Europop while he showers, correcting my terrible American accent in his equally terrible French accent, cologne.
Martìn, a.k.a Tincho
Age: 19
Interests: Being best friends with Mati, some sort of Chinese diet where you don't drink anything while you eat, Pokemón computer games, civil engineering, the guitar, looking like a frisbee player but not actually being one, having the coolest hair in the house.
Matias, a.k.a. Mati
Age: 19
Interests: Being best friends with Tincho, playing guitar and singing in public for change (I accompanied him last Saturday and we made 25 cents from a nun), talking to random people, having the second coolest hair in the house (short with a faux-hawk and a braid coming out of the back).

There's also Valeria, an Argentine in her late 20s, her 2-year-old daughter Isa, and Agustine, a 22 year old Argentine chef. They were supposed to have moved out a long time ago, but as of today they're still hanging out, and the house is a wee bit cramped.
*The "for now" is because two nights ago Claudio said that he's fed up with Argentina (because of the aforementioned custody battle) and is moving to Spain and closing the apartment in 30 days. Yesterday he changed his mind, but today he told me we were going to have a "meeting," so who knows how long I'm going to stick around!

3. So now it's time for a true confession. Sometimes when I am sad or lonely or feel like I have no control over my life, right before I go to sleep I imagine myself going to school with Harry Potter: casting spells, fighting bad guys, and eating those amazing never ending buffets in the dining hall. Now as we all know, I've already finished college and Hogwarts does not have a graduate school program, and thus I've had to surrender my dream of becoming a student there. However, a week ago, an even better dream came true. I am now officially a professor at Hogwarts. Yes reading public, little is it known that not only is Hogwarts a mystical school of witchcraft and wizardry somewhere in Scotland, it is also an English institute in Carlos Paz, Argentina, about an hour outside of Còrdoba (check it out at www.e-hogwarts.com.ar). And yours truly is now teaching four courses there- a group of 6 year olds, a group of 7 year olds, 11 year olds and 13-ers. As a professor at Hogwarts, I have found myself casting my version of the book. I think I already may have found my Harry. At the beginning of the 11 year old class, some thugs (Slytherins no doubt) were walking by the institute and shouted some combination of expletives and "Harry Potter," while also exhibiting their middle fingers. My Harry, whose name is Luciano, jumped to the door, still clad in his school uniform, and yelled, "Sonofabitch!" That's the kind of gumption that can defeat the darkest of Lords. That kid´s going to go far. I also have, unfortunately, a Moaning Myrtle.... one of the little six year olds burst into tears before the class even started, but by the 10th time we had sung the "Goodbye Song," she told me she was having a lot of fun. Oh, and the best part is the kids even talk like Harry- all our materials are British, so they teach them to say "mum" instead of "mom," "rubber" instead of "eraser" (wtf??) and pronounce zebra " zehbra." Ridiculous.

My traveling pants

Perhaps I'm only influenced by the many bored-bookstore hours I spent reading the entire Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series, but I think I may have found my own pair of magic pants! I bought them on Wednesday with Flor in Mendoza, hours before I got on the bus to Córdoba. They're dark blue and I actually kinda look like an adult in them. I made the mistake of not wearing them the night on the bus, which is probably why I was freezing the whole time and accidentally peed on my jeans in the bus bathroom. I also didn't wear them my first day in Còrdoba (although I did change my pants), which is probably why I didn't have any luck apartment hunting, had some major what-am-I-doing-here moments, and majorly pissed off the luggage guy at the terminal when I didn't have any coins and jokingly offered him a candy as tip (it was a good candy!).
Friday, however, I put ém on. And everything started to change.
I dropped off my CV at two promising looking institutions! I found an apartment (in the centro, cheap, tons of cool art, with a french guy and two argentines)!!! I had a lovely lunch with Lizzy´s friend Claire! I even got hired at an institute (granted, it's for one individual class, twice a week, but it's a start)!
So yeah, I'm probably jinxing myself now saying that things are going pretty well, but I'm gonna say it anyway! And the awesomest of all, I have an addressssssss!
Abby Loomis
c/o Claudio Montenegro (the cool hippie guy who owns the apartment)
Departamento 1/A
371 Buenos Aires
Còrdoba, Argentina 5000

Starstruck in Zapallar

That last post was way too gloomy. Yes, I am far away from the glamour of the Oscars and other such stuff in the US, but that doesn't mean I haven't been celebrity spotting here in Zapallar, the most exclusive beach in Chile, ya heard? Here's a partial list of all the famous folks I've rubbed shoulders with:
1.Diego Muñoz, a hot on tv, raggedy in real life star of Chilean teleseries
2. Luciano Cruz Coke, another soap star with a hipster moustache who came into our store. When he asked if he could smoke outside while reading to his son, my coworker Pao said, "well, if you want to smoke in front of your child, that's your decision." Take THAT Mr. Rich and Famous!
3. Carlos, a Manhattanite with Chilean parents who produces episodes of MTV's "True Life." He's still considering Bekah and I's proposal of "True Life: I Make Construction Paper Sea Creatures."
4. A host of a Chilean morning show with impressive boobs and highlights.
5. Leelee, an acquaintance of my boss who stayed with us and revealed that she designed the bouquet for Usher's (unfortunately canceled) wedding!!

Awards Show angst.

So, last night I was sitting on the couch and decided to switch the channel from the musical festival in Viña to something else, and what did I find but THE OSCARS. Getting a package of Entertainment Weeklys this weekend from my mom was wonderful, but watching the Oscars probably made me sadder than anything. I can't believe that just a year ago I was wearing the gold dress with the puffy sleeves sitting in Jaz's living room and eating popcorn and drinking beer, and this time around I didn't even have anybody next to me to say "hey, don't Jennifer Garner's bangs look weird?" or "what the heck was THAT montage about?" Sometimes it is hard to be so far away, especially when the Spanish translation of Jon Stewart's monologue is so loud and garbled that you can't even hear what he's saying in either language.

English+beach+ Abby+ kids= BAD

Here it is, the newest missive from Zapallar, a lovely beach town characterized by its crab and cheese empanadas, ideal paddle-ball conditions and inhabitants who adore dressing their children in identical outfits…
So, first of all, the bad news. At least financially speaking, the workshops have turned out to be a total failure. My boss budgeted for us getting approximately 30 kids a day, and we ended up getting 5 or 6 at most, with an average of one or two solitary niños.
¨But why, Abby?” you ask. Here are my theories:
1. Nobody knew what the heck we were doing. We started out doing English workshops, but nobody wanted to learn (even if it was way fun words like “pirate,” “mountain” and “skull”) during the summer. So we changed ém to pure arts and crafts workshops, with different themes every day…and still nobody came! We had one mom who didn’t let her daughter come back (even though the daughter was way into it by the way) because we weren’t speaking enough English, and another mom who withdrew her three crazy 3-year-old triplets (thank GOD) because we were just reading and they got bored (duh, they’re THREE!). So that’s one reason.
2. The turf war. In the same building as the bookstore there’s an internet café, and the lady who runs it also happens to be a painter, who happened to decide to do painting workshops for kids, which happened to be set for the same time as our workshops, and which happened to be at a cheaper price. So duh, the kids went there instead. My boss decided to fight fire with fire and start offering wi-fi when the other peeps weren’t there, but we never really figured out the technology to be able to get our evil plot off the ground.
3. Cultural differences. I know that when I was a kid, summer was always about activities: art camp, dance camp, kickball, (and, admittedly, my daily dose of Days of our Lives with the babysitter). It’s that American mentality of multi-tasking and always doing a million things at once. For your average (superloaded) Chilean kid, summer consists of eating, going to the beach, and eating at the beach. Plus, why pay a pair of gringas to watch your kids when you’re already paying a nana to take them wherever they want to go?
4. Crappy teachers. NOT! No matter what those two disgruntled moms say, my co-teacher (and lifesaver) Bekah and I definitely gave it our all.
But now, the good news. Although the niños from Zapallar didn’t get into our workshops, they have been coming to all our events at night, everything from plays to scary story nights to dance parties! And best of all, I’ve gotten to rekindle the flame of my old lady love… the THEATAAAAAAAAAAH!
That’s right, I’ve gotten to act! First it was in a cameo with the Valpo actors in “Niña Pirata” as the negligent mom who lets her daughter escape with pirates.Then I was “Paola” in “La Voz en el Telefono,” a scary story we acted out. Then “Melissa,”a girl who starts to hear voices coming from her favorite doll, in “La Casa de las Muñecas Embrujadas” (The Haunted Dollhouse). And then I was “Lucia,” a nice girl who turns out to be a cannibal in “La Biblioteca Terrorifica.” And finally, with two other awesome guys, I learned some kids songs in Spanish for music night. The night got cuh-razy and I ended up playing “Wagon Wheel” for a decidedly underwhelmed audience of kids, but then we brought out the reggaetón and all was right with the world.
So now I have a little less than two weeks left before the next big leap into the unknown (yikes!) and even worse, tomorrow I turn 23. Life is looking grim for this old lady.
No, not really. But I do miss home (and you, faithful reader) so so so much.

Zapa-wha?

So, I've now spent a week in Zapallar. Here are my impressions...
Work: The name of the game has been "go with the flow!" Last you heard, I was anticipating working about 3 hours a day doing English workshops for a bevy of sweet little kids, and spending the rest of the day on the beach, getting a tan through the pounds of sunscreen I put on every day. Instead, I spent the last 7 days in the bookstore (here it is!) up to ten hours each day, preparing and doing arts-and-crafts, games, and dancing to "High School Musical" with a little bit of English thrown in for at most 4 kids (two of whom are my coworker Pao's kids) , and I've been to the beach now twice during the day, for a total of an hour and a half. I am wearing sunscreen though! What's more, for a few days in there, I was even doing "workshops" for two kids from Ohio, whose mom wanted them to be immersed in Spanish (this required us to recruit the friends of  Carole's kids, who were great and very patient in teaching the gringos the most up-to-date Chilean slang). I'm still pretty hopeful about more kids showing up... the two gals who we did get to sign up are having fun!
The place:
The vibe here is really interesting: it's a small place with two little streets, but on each of those streets you might find a pricey oyster bar, decadent bakery or women's clothes boutique. Of the many gorgeous, rail-thin Chilean gals I've seen on the street, I think maybe one hasn't been sporting some supersweet throwback Nikes and designer jeans. When I'm walking up the cobblestone street to the bookstore every day, proudly sporting my red polo shirt uniform and lugging a giant tupperware container of glue and glitter, it's almost like I'm back at Vassar or in NYC, jealous of the superhip beauties all around- only here they also rock at Spanish! But don't cry for me, Estados Unidos: Zapallar is just as beautiful as its inhabitants. Out my window, I see the hills that by morning are covered in mist and by mid-day bathed in gorgeous sunlight. To walk to the beach, you have to pass through a lovely, shady forest, and when you actually do hit the beach, well:

Plus,even though it's the most exclusive beach in Chile, it still has kiosks! Score!


The People: Here's where I really hit the jackpot! I am living in a great house
with an ever-changing cast of characters. The regulars are Carole (my boss, who's constantly in and out, traveling between Zapallar and Santiago), her two kids (Seba and Vale, 16 and 14 and totally awesome), tons of their friends (right now there are four 15 year old boys bunking with Seba), the previously mentioned and absolutely awesome Pao, who basically runs the show here in Zapallar and has an unending supply of positivity, creativity and energy, her two kids Kevin and Leti (6 and 3), her mom Noemi, who takes care of the kids and cooks yummy food, and Roberto and Liroy (20 and 22), who work in the bookstore and at the bookfairs and are really great and fun. And then, every Thursday night, four actors from Valparaiso (Cesar, Cota, Carina and Claudia, or "Quadruple C," as I call them in my head) arrive to put on a kids' play they put together themselves. > They're all super talented, warm, wonderfully bohemian and always down for drinking beer on the beach, which has been most of my social activity in Zapallar, so far (plus an awesome hip-hop and reggae concert we wandered into last Saturday, but that's another story!) So basically, things are good. I'm pretty tired, but as I get into the swing of things I think that'll get better. And hey, at least I finally got to the beach!

Por fin!

I have an address! Well, kinda. It's my boss´address in Santiago, but I'll get the letters (until the end of February, that is). And I promise I'll also get on the stick (ja ja) with sending ém!
Boom Boom Loomis
c/o Carole Cummings
2749 Manuel Cruzat
Providencia
Santiago, Chile

Summer... from A to Z!

Oh man, oh man oh man. So right now I'm back in Santiago, but first I've got to talk about the wonderful two and a little bit weeks I spent in Mendoza. 

I bounced back and forth between Flor's house in Rivadavia, with poodles sleeping in my bed, and Esteban's house in Mendoza capital, with a giant dog sleeping in my bed. I don't know what I did in my past life to get such awesome friends who really didn't follow that whole- a house guest is like a fish, they start to stink after three days- thing. Cause believe me, I stunk, but they didn't seem to mind!

In Rivadavia, I mostly hung out with Flor, her great family, her awesome friends, and her three dogs-the poodles, Sophie and Julie and Camilla, her stepdad's dog who hangs out outside but is always trying to get in through the window. Most exciting, a baby-Flor's nephew- was born! Ticiano, who everyone agreed came out of the womb mighty ugly. He was compared to a potato, a martian, a raisin, and Pepe Grillo-a.k.a. Jiminy Cricket. Now he's much cuter. For New Year's I had a great dinner with Esteban's mom, sis, grandpa and neighbor, complete with fireworks in the street and champagne at midnight. There was dancing, a great trip on the jet-ski, driven masterfully by Flor, lots of nice naps and walks to eat ice cream, lots of floating around in pelopinches, or little above-ground pools, and, with Esteban, finally watching the third Lord of the Rings while splitting a kilo of ice cream!

And today, I headed back to Chile, and will be chilling here until the end of Februray.  Through an English teacher I met at the language school in Santiago, I got offered a job running English workshops for little kids in Zapallar, a beach town near Santiago! Right now I'm staying at my future boss's house in Santiago- with cable, a giant bed, more poodles and a BATH TUB!!- and on Friday I drive out with her to Zapallar. I'm still pretty foggy about what exactly I'm going to be doing, but I'm really excited for it all.