Sweaty spandex and beef tummy aches

Hello, Yassou, Hola, Ola!

Well, here I am, a former vegetarian salivating in the beef and wine capital of South America. I only lasted about 10 hours after touching down in a rather turbulence-ridden flight before I succumbed to the temptations of cow and pig dangling before my eyes (thankfully, in their cooked form). I could see the twinkle in the eye of that conniving woman working at the carniceria. Just like a drug peddler, really. Or the evil stepmother in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. "Just one bite, my pretty." Now I'm hooked.

Oh well, for any of you who know my father, my being a vegetarian really wasn't in my genes.

Buenos Aires is BIG. I guess I forgot, or neglected to realize, what a large city it is! Over ten million people, if you also count the expanding 'burbs. It is a bustling place that does remind me a little of Europe (or, at least, the Europe I have seen in photos, since I have never been there), but I think that people who say Buenos Aires is the Europe of South America are missing the point. The city breaths Cumbia, dance music which originated in Colombia (I think), ricocheting off the winding side streets, woman with gold teeth and striped t-shirts stretched taut across their burgeoning bosoms selling piping hot empanadas, and buses labeled with bright bubble letters careening through red lights and ignoring the waves of would-be passengers on the streets as if the drivers were doing all of this for fun and customers were at the bottom of their list behind sending a spray of dirty water on the woman in white. Yup, I am definitely in South America.

The music, food preferences and driving habits are the same, but Buenos Aires does feel very different than the rest of South America on one very basic level; diversity. It is a city that is made up of about 90% whites, 7% mestizo (people of indigenous and spanish mixed descent that populate the majority of Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia and parts of Colombia), 2% black and 2% Asian. In Brazil, where everyone happily agrees that their background is a "confusao" (confusion), here the racial lines are more strictly drawn and adhered to.

That being said, I am still a blonde, burned anomaly. Today I went walking to the bus station to purchase a ticket to El Bolson, a city in Patagonia where I will be working on an organic farm for a couple of weeks until my job/research begins in mid-march. Perhaps I looked a little silly, sporting my favorite fanny pack (yes, I have more than one), my pale skin already the color of undercooked beef and wearing stretch pants. From up above I heard a mans voice, and though it was deep and resonating, the content of his declaration led me to believe it was probably not God.

"Oye amor, que culo que tienes!" (Hey love, what an ass you have!)

The window washer was enamored, it would seem. I gave him my best scowl and slowed my walk so my butt wouldn't jiggle as much, wishing very fervently that I had not chosen spandex.

Burnt skin, sweaty spandex and rumbling tummy (ooooh the meat is killing me) aside, I am very happy to be here. Thank you to everyone back home in Ann Arbor, across the States and the world who has helped me either in figuring this all out, supported me as I fretfully planned, and for all of those who listened. I am so thankful for this experience, but more than ever, grateful to my family and friends whom I hold close to my heart. You mean the world to me.

Besos, Beijos, Felakis, and Kisses.