Good Air

First I would like to say thank you to Auntie Margaret, Uncle Manny, Mom, Dad and Hayley and Hannah for all those fun encouraging notes hidden in my luggage. It made unpacking feel like Easter. Hannah, that poster you made must have taken so long! It was beautiful. And Hayley, your heart note and the picture you made were adorable, I especially liked the list of birthdays I was going to miss :) And Mom, I put that pin on my purse so you will always be with me! I miss you all so much already!

After saying farewell to San Ramon, San Francisco and the like, I arrived in the JFK airport 5 hours later to board the mother of all flights: 12 hours to Buenos Aires. Twelve hours is far too long for a flight, especially when you have a middle seat, especially when the man to your left doesn't speak a word of English and the boy to your right won't stop talking. He is fairly noteworthy, so allow me to divulge:

Steve.

I was having a somewhat pleasant somewhat awkward conversation with the girl two seats over when Steve came a claimed his seat between us. He was a younger looking Korean boy with a bit of a fidget that he took out on the TV monitor on the seat in front of him compelling it to perpetually flick between screens trying to decipher his command. He turned to the girl I had been talking to and opened his mouth to talk and much to my surprise out came rapid, native Argentine Spanish. He later told us that he was born and raised in Argentina but wants to go to MIT and wants to be fluent in English, all with a Spanish accent. I'm not saying this to be racist, I understand ones nationality can have little to no influence over what language one speaks, but this was far from anything I had ever seen or heard. It serves as a perfect example of how diverse Buenos Aires is. Anyhow, he gave us a bunch of tips on where to go and more where not to go from a local perspective...but he also hates Argentina. He also talked a lot so I finally pretended to sleep, and finally did sleep. Moving right along to my host family:

Susana y Raul.

They do not speak much English. Raul speaks English as well as I speak Spanish, and Susana can speak enough for conversations between us to be understood, what with my embarrassing and incorrect Spanish and her broken English. They are both retired and they are both very sweet. Susana has a bit of spice to her and Raul has a good humor from what I can tell, so it's perfect. He has 3 sons, one of which is in Oakland I believe and I don't know about the others. Susana has 3 daughters, one of which is in DC and the others are somewhere around Argentina. She calls one of them a "crazy hippie teacher", sounds like she'd be perfect for Berekely. And finally....

Dumas.

Dumas is an older, skinny grey cat who is a bit of an attention whore, but he's very cute. He kept me company while I unpacked which turned into a bit of a chore when I went to fold any top with straps because, obviously, those are cat toys and needed to be dealt with as such. And he is named after the famous French author, so it's a good thing I picked up The Three Musketeers at the last minute.

The Apartment.

The apartment is on the 18th floor and overlooks the entire Buenos Aires area, which is huge. There's a train that runs right outside my window which, by the way, does not have a screen. The window, not the train. None of the windows do. I have my own room and I share a bathroom with Susana. It's very nice, but it has one of those little spray things which really weirded me out. The apartment is pretty spacious and is in a nice part of town. Susana walked me around the block and showed me all the tons of coffee shops and book stores right around the block, there's also an Irish Pub around the corner. It's very nice and well lit with a lot of people out walking their dogs or just out walking around.

Anyhow, that's all I can think of right now. It's about 1130 here and I need to get up for orientation tomorrow. I love you all!!

The Final Countdown

If you want to get the real info, skip to "Here's the meat", if not, I invite you to enjoy two paragraphs of nothing.

I'm currently sitting at Peet's on Bollinger Canyon Road trying to figure out this whole blog business and what exactly to write. It's pretty embarrassing actually since I'm sitting with my back to the entire coffee shop which allows everyone who has nothing better to do watch me type a sentence then delete, type then delete, pause, type and delete, and so on and so forth (Stacey, you know what I mean). You see, I am very indecisive when I write and tend to write things that don't make sense or connect so it takes a long time to formulate a fluid thought. Plus, I like to go back and enhance my diction to make me come across as being astute. Which definitely sounds better than: "Plus, I like to go back and improve my vocabulary to make me look smarter." Luckily, most of the patrons appear rather engrossed in their affairs so I can escape their judgement for now. Except for that man who just glanced my way...beat it baldy!

Originally this post was supposed to be about how I'm leaving for a semester abroad in two days, but somehow it turned into a rambling about something totally unrelated, not unlike most of the stories I tell. You see, when I tell stories I tend to...just kidding. I'm leaving for Buenos Aires, Argentina in less than 2 days and I can't wait. Obviously, I will miss a select few of you, but I'm ready to get away from the rest of you...;) Ok, so for those of you who made it through my blog so far, thank you. I realize this is a little spacey, they're all going to be like this, I preemptively apologize.

Here's the meat:

I leave my beautiful California this Friday at noon to embark on a semester of fun and studying (ahem, studying and fun) in Buenos Aires, Argentina. That's in South America. I will be living in Belgrano with a retired couple by the names of Susana and Raul Bajdacz and I can't wait to meet them and finally figure out how to pronounce their name. They also have a cat by the name of Dumas; ah yes, it all comes together now, Dumas o menos. Clever, no? I owe it to Sarah, Nshies, Graden and a little bit of me, but more them. Anyhow, I've only lived with a cat once and it was only for a few months, maybe less, I was 4ish so I don't remember much. It's name was Neptune, it was wild, and it scratched me in my backyard on the aggregate walkway underneath the poison cherry tree when I tried to pet it. This will be interesting.