For all of you out there that were sweating in your sleep and having daymares since i last wrote, you can relax and hold onto your drawers. I haven't been got.

I have:

Started private spanish lessons with Luciana who is a fantastic teacher, journalist and fiction writer born and raised in Buenos Aires. I’ve only had 3 lessons with her so far. Most of it is conversational. We talk about intro to Spanish textbooky things like our morning routines, what we did yesterday, etc., but we also talk about globalization, pedro almodovar movies, and cooking. Since I arrived though, I’ve been thirsty to learn the bare bones of the language—verb conjugations, tenses, and more vocab. So I am PSYCHED that I started lessons at the Universidad de Buenos Aires this past week. I took the assessment and got placed in a level 2 beginner's class. The class meets Monday thru Friday, 3 hours a day for a month.

I was invited to a Christmas eve dinner with a group of Italians and Argentines: "no one eats alone on christmas eve." and just like that, i was SAVED! Not wanting to kill the mood, and afraid it would get lost in translation, i neglected to tell them that in staying true to my ny jew roots i've spent many a christmas eve hiding in the house away from all the cheer and giving, waiting for the chicken lo mein and bbq ribs to arrive. For serious though, it was a great evening. I ate a fierce meal (compromising my vegetarianism for some lamb and chicken) fresh off the grill, drank some local wine, and played a game that involved tarot cards, long personal stories, and lots of laughing. I even got a real purty candle as a gift.

Vero, who went to my high school, has lived down here for a little more than a year, and and has already started her own business, has been an amazing friend to me. She is a G. She’s given me a tour of the city, answered all of my questions “Vero, como se dice hollerrr en espanol?” “Vero, why am I the only dude who wears plaid here?”, introduced me to her friends, taken me to fun rooftop dance parties, and invited me down to Mar Del Plata for New Years.

And that’s where I was when ’09 made way for 20-10. Mar Del Plata. On the coast. 5 hours south of Buenos aires, having dinner with Manu, a friend of Vero’s, and his family. My linguistic highlight of the evening was the brief conversation i had with Manu's dad about genetically modified corn. "el maiz no puede hacer los ninos!"

A quick note about Mar Del Plata y el sol: there is no ozone layer. No OZONE! Hot damn that sun will fluck you up. I was hanging on the beach one day, throat parched, skin crisped and heard a woman's voice whisper to me “chile, I can’t protect you anymore.”

"huh? vero, what are you talking about?" .
No response.
"can't protect me?"
"it's not vero." the voice whispered.
"who is it?"
there was a silence. the whisper seemed to come from the ocean and the sand at the same time.
"tierra madre."

She told me she’s not mad. She’s just struggling to keep the balance.

Some highlights from Mar Del Plata:
-playing on the beach with local dogs
-eating empanadas de humita y empanadas de hurmita y empanadas de hurmita
-wind/rain storms that would take over a sunny day in a moment and then disappear just as fast
-making lunch of veggies in cumin/tomato goodness over rice
-hanging with new friends: vero, sara, manu, juan, flor, jo,& leo
-conversing with the sun

Just before I left for mar del plata, I met with Louis, a connected expat activist living in the city. I got Louis’ contact info through some diligent internet networking. He agreed to meet me at a café in san telmo to talk about “meaningful work opportunities”. It’s true, I’m looking for any type of work--line prepping in a kitchen, bussing/waiting tables, djing, babysitting, teaching, but it would be grrreat if I could find paid work that is somehow social justice related. So Louis reached out to some of his people and now things are percolating.

One promising opportunity involves working with an organization that supports los carteneros. Los carteneros collect discarded cardboard on the street in Key Food style shopping carts or makeshift rolling devices that can support GIGANTIC compacted stacks of strung-up cardboard. This operation started as a hustle not so different than scrap metal collecting. I'm told that eventually, los politicos de la ciudad realized there was this organized labor force collecting its cardboard trash and bringing it to recycling centers. Supposedly in tandem with los carteneros themselves, they designed an official employment program. That’s about all I know about los carteneros. So far, I’ve spent most of my time in rich and working class areas of the city that are predominantly white where almost all of the indigenous faces i see are those of los carteneros.

A question: Why is it so enjoyable to drink/pour beverages from heavy glass bottles?

An observation: I am all for lovers expressing their love in public. Touch. Kiss. Hold hands. it's beautiful thing. I got a glimpse into the morning commute of one couple yesterday. They stood embraced in the corner of the packed train car for 20 minutes whispering to each other and smiling. beautiful thing indeed. except, as he spoke, she sucked and chewed on his lower lip. his words came out mangled, in a dialect of love that only she could understand. As she spoke, he did the same. Twenty minutes of chewing and sucking on each others’ bottom lips. and these were grown ass adults too.if they were buck naked in the middle of the car rubbing each other down in dulce de leche they would've gotten my full support (and attention). but this, not so much.

Photos soon to come.

paz y amor.