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.