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.
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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.
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