Day 44

Friday night, still fuming at my ridiculous teacher, I had two plans. One was with school friends to go to a dance or something, and the other was to go to Mercedes's house with Mom and Dad and Maggie. I ended up going to Mercedes's because my friends didn't call. I don't know whether I was supposed to meet them somewhere or if they were going to my house, or what. But I ended up playing hide-in-the-dark with Adriano and Francisco and Chiara and truco with Mercedes and Nestor and Mom and Dad. Have I mentioned truco before? Truco is an Argentine trick-taking card game involving sly gestures to your teammates and a code of signals you aren't supposed to let anyone else see. We came home late and exhausted.

Saturday was a sleep-in day. We left the house to go to the mall, but ended up not going. Instead Maggie and I took a cable car, a "teleferico", to the top of San Bernardo hill at the edge of the city. Karina and Daniel had already taken us here, but we hadn't gone on the cable car. That was cool. We drove back down with Mom and Dad and stopped at a statue of War of Independence hero General Güemes (gway-mace). We went downtown to the bank, and then we stopped to eat hot dogs. Maggie got a "Pancho (Spanish for hot dog) with a poncho (Spanish for poncho)", which was a hot dog covered in a layer of cheese (at least it looked like cheese...). I was happy with my hamburger. After that, we looked at hotels for Aunt Freda and Uncle Jay and Jack and Max, who are now coming to visit us! Yay!! The Victorian and the Hotel Salta both had rooms. Then, we went to the mall to look for peanut butter and unsweetened chocolate. But the supermarket at the mall, like the entire city, apparently, doesn't have those. So no peanut butter chocolate chip cookies for us. Maggie went to a birthday party of a friend Saturday night. As far as I know, she liked it.

Sunday (The end of the weekend already? How does it go by so fast?) we lazed around in the morning (Or, what morning I was awake for, anyway), and then we went to Karina and Daniel's asado house in the country (As they explained, that's basically what country houses are for: barbecue). Many of their other friends were there, some of whom we had met before. I spent a good part of my time in the pool, after asado lunch. I even did a little homework from the pool. And I got a horrible sunburn. Relatively speaking, we got home early Sunday night. I finished up my homework and then went to bed. Not ready for another 7 a.m. morning.

But it came anyway. Funny how it always does. Math. Break. Spanish. Break. Philosophy. Break. More philosophy. Home. Tried to take a nap. Couldn't fall asleep. Facebook instead (my solution to many problems). Eventually did my homework. Tried to start my blog. Ended up on facebook, again. Read. Dinner. Went to bed. Tuesday.

Tuesday is an early morning. Which, combined with the fact that I have both culture and gym, makes it my least favorite day of the week. Spanish. Math. History. In culture, I kept my head down and desperately hoped there would be no anti-yankee rants today. There weren't. Yes. No seventh hour. I got out of school early. Since today, Wednesday, is a national holiday (It's national day of remembrance. Of what, I don't recall. As long as I get school off, I'm happy.), I barely went home at all. I first went to the mall with Luluu and Anto and someone who's name I don't know. We ate McDonald's (Their choice, not mine. But maybe they think I love McDonald's because it comes from the same country I do.). Then they were going to go back to school to go to gym, and I was going to call home from there. But just outside of McDonald's, we saw Tomás and Facundo (His name is usually shortened to the first three or four letters, but with so many English-speakers reading this, I think I'll just leave it seven) going the opposite direction. So I went with them instead. We went a few blocks past the mall to a hamburger stand, where we met three other people I didn't know. They all had hot dogs and lomitos, but I had nothing since I had just had McDonald's. Also, 2/3 of the table was smoking the entire time. 1/6 of the table was coughing the entire time. Tomás's Mom (thank you!) gave me a ride home because Dad was too busy to come pick me up. And right when I got home, I had to change out of my school uniform and into my blindingly white gym uniform. At five, gym started. We walked onto the field and I got handed a green jersey. But there was no explaining of the rules, as I was expecting. Instead there were 15 or 20 boys who were really into handball, and one who had no idea why there were four nets and teams of eight rather than three walls and teams of one. "Kennedy! Run! Catch the ball!" Um, coach? What do I do with the ball when I catch it? Luckily for me, the coach only said that once, because then my team noticed me and started throwing me the ball even if I wasn't waving my arms. When I got it, I immediately threw it to another player in a green jersey like mine. And that was how it went. I tried to stay close to other green players so that I wouldn't have to block or intercept. And at six, I was thanking God I didn't have to pretend I knew how to play this strange sport anymore. I was the first one out of the building and I hopped right into Dad's car so we could get out of there.

A few hours went by. Again I had two plans for the evening. Mom and Dad invited over for dinner Mercedes and Nestor and kids (Three kids came. Two stayed at home.) and Karina (Daniel was out of town.). I was also invited to a hamburger-party-like-thing out somewhere. And I went. In the middle of dinner here, Paau and Mer picked me up and took me to a--well, I guess we would call it a club. When they finish high school (my class will in a year and a half), Argentines go on big trips with their graduating class. They were talking about a ski resort in Patagonia and even Disneyworld in Orlando. And travel agencies ingratiate the students. "Snow" travel encouraged us (Or, I should say, "them". I'm not going.) to go to Bariloche through Snow when they graduate. When Paau and Mer showed up at my door in high heels and dresses, I was a little worried that a T-shirt and shorts would be too dressed down. But when I got there, everyone else was dressed like me. It was a little weird to see people I'd never seen outside of uniform in regular clothes. We, about fifty of us, were seated around a long table in a badly-lit room that wouldn't have fit anyone else. When we got there, everyone applauded, and I kind of think it was for me, because everyone was looking at me. I'm not really sure why, though. I sat down in an empty chair at the of the table and was asked by my classmates if I wanted anything. I said no, but they gave me a Coke and some pizza anyway. The pizza was definitely the worst slice of pizza I've ever had in my life. But I might have been the only one sober enough to taste it. Everyone else (as far as I could tell, that's not even an exaggeration) drank beer. For, I believe, the first time in my life, I was pressured to drink. But I stayed dry the whole time. At one point when some guys offered me a drink, someone, I don't remember who, told me not to eat or drink anything from them. I smiled and said, no, I wouldn't. But she didn't smile. "No, really. Don't accept anything." And she was right. Later that night they offered me unprocessed cocaine. Another first: being offered drugs. Actually, even seeing drugs. Aside from the excessive lawlessness (that is a lot to put aside), I had fairly good time. I just talked to people and posed for pictures. There was no dancing or the promised hamburgers. It only lasted an hour, which I was kind of happy about after being cornered by a bunch of 15-year-olds offering me cocaine. Speaking of lawlessness, I and seven other teenagers crammed into a car without working seatbelts and driven by a kid who may or may not have real license. I was a little glad I was the first one to be dropped off. When I got home, The five adults were still talking at the table, Maggie and Chiara were asleep on Maggie's trundle bed, and Nico and Pablo were on Mom and Dad's bed, one asleep, one watch TV. I told them all where I had just been for a while, and then after that the conversation turned to other things. After a while Karina left, and then I went to bed (at three) while Mercedes and Nestor were still here. I woke up at 2:30 p.m. (good thing I had the day off). From 6:30 to 7:30 we went to Mercedes's and talked/played for a while, and then picked Maggie up from a birthday party and came home.

Sadly, this vacation was only one day long, so I have to go do homework and go to bed now. But before I go, I'm going to do something I haven't before (a radical new approach to blogging!): I'm going to ask a question (You don't really have to answer it. It's mostly rhetorical. [I mean, you can answer it if you want to.]). Is Argentina a third world country? If you've been keeping up on this blog, then you've already read pages and pages about Argentina (more of my sarcastic writing than you need in a lifetime), so your guess is about as good as mine. I don't really know. In some ways it seems like it is, and in others not. And with that intriguing and stimulating thought, I'll log off.

Day 39

I had culture today. So you already know it was not a good day. TIC and Stats passed by at a glacial pace. One of the breaks I was in the room, and the other I was outside with people. And then came culture. She started off by going over the homework I didn't understand, but I was lucky enough not to be called on. Then she talked about what made Argentina Argentina. The other people in my class mentioned dulce de leche and empanadas and grilled meat. One of the girls in my class suggested asking me what I thought of when I thought of Argentina. So, even though I had understood the question, Juli, who sits behind me, translated the question into English and asked if I knew the ball-point pen was invented in Argentina (I didn't). But I didn't really have anything to add to the list, and the teacher was having a discussion with the rest of the class, so I didn't really say anything. Then Juli told the teacher this. I almost added something like "gauchos" or "tango" while she was speaking. I didn't realize that she was going to tell the teacher. "That's because North Americans don't even think about Argentina, " my teacher concluded. "We have a concept of the world, but North Americans don't see anything outside of North America. They have no concept of what Argentina is and they don't know anything about the planet outside their country. North Americans don't even think Argentina is a part of America--". I stopped her. "Wait a minute, professor. I may not have known the ball-point pen was invented here, but that doesn't mean I don't have a concept of Argentina. I know that Argentina is the land of gauchos and tango. I know that dulce de leche comes from here, and empanadas, too. I had heard of Patagonia and Iguazú and Buenos Aires before I got here. I had known where Argentina was, what its capital was, what language was spoken, and that it stretches from the Andes mountains to Tierra del Fuego years before I knew I would be coming here. I know that Argentines love soccer and hate Brazil. I know that Argentines eat crazy amounts of beef, and that they smoke like chimneys and drink like fish. I know that thirty years ago your president declared war on Britain over the Falkland Islands. I know that Argentines are just as overly patriotic as yankees, even though they still all wished they lived in France. I know that Argentina has accepted dozens of Nazis as refugees and not let them be tried in international courts. I know that people here are so racist as to shock people in the United States and horribly offend African-Americans. I know that Argentina disappeared and killed tens of thousands of politically active citizens only a few decades ago. And, on top of that, I know that Argentina has a horrible education system. Now, how many people in this room had even heard of Minnesota before I came here?"

Except I didn't say that. The words were in my mouth, ready to be spoken, but, instead, I sat, as always, silent. And I let my teacher tell me I was a hypocrite and a xenophobe and a chauvinist.

Day 38

Ok, I have spent all of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday catching up in this post. So you better appreciate this.

Last Wednesday was day 30, which means I have been here for over a month now. So. A third done. It's gone by fast. So, econ. The teacher checked that we had binders, which I didn't, but luckily I'm not on every class list. English next. Our homework had been to list advantages and disadvantages of different forms of entertainment, but apparently we were supposed to have listed every possible form of entertainment. No one had known that, and she got mad. Teachers. Expect you to know what the homework is without even assigning it. Well, anyway. Then she told to list social problems (Actually, she was more redundant: "bad social problems in society". Every English teacher in the States just winced.) She called on me. I said "crime", even though I was thinking "poor education". Fourth/fifth hour is religion. At one point when she was walking around she asked me my religion. When I shyly answered, she smiled and made a joke. Phew. During one of the breaks, birthday-girl Mer reminded me it was her birthday and asked if I was going. I said yes. So, after school was over I walked to the mall with her and a few other people in my class. When we got to the mall, we met a whole bunch of other people in the food court. I met her family, and then sat at the end of the table with people I knew. We ate (Empanadas for me. Yum.), then left for Mer's house. I went in a taxi with two other boys from my class. I desperately tried to fasten my seatbelt, but it was stuck in the seat. After a while I realized that we would be there before I got it free. So I rode like a salteño. A salteño very much wishing he could buckle himself in. At the house there were fewer than the thirty-or-forty people at the mall. Maybe twenty. (Oh. While I'm on the topic of birthday sizes, Chiara also went to a birthday party on Wednesday that had three hundred people! That's so big it needs to be italicized!) It was a medium-sized house. Maybe slightly smaller than medium by the standards of McMansion country. I was in a bedroom with (almost all) girls from my class, trying to keep up with the conversation. They went on facebook and looked at someone's album named "disgusting". It was pretty disgusting. After a long, gross series of pictures, I went out back where other people were sitting around a table. Again, conversation I didn't really take a part in for trying to understand it. And that was pretty much it. I was one of the last people at the party (partly because Dad took an hour to pick me up when Maggie's playdate's Dad insisted he stay for mate). It was pretty fun. Awkward, yes, but it wasn't too bad of a party. Mer also invited me to a second birthday party on Friday, which I accepted. Wednesday night the four of us went out with Karina and Daniel to "El Monumental" restaurant.

Thursday began with English. That is, March, Thursday 11 began with English. More about bad social problems in society. History, she told us about the book we should buy. Jump to the future--I have my book and was looking through it when I found the paragraph on the US Civil War. And it is pretty funny (At least for someone who just went through AP US History). Here it is:

"In 1860 the president Abraham Lincoln (Already false--Lincoln wasn't president until 1861), who was anti-slavery (False, he didn't come out against slavery until 1862) and represented the interests of the North (Actually true--the only part of this sentence that is), announced his decision to ban slavery (Um. Are you joking?). The Southern states separated and the Northern states considered secession unacceptable (Hey. We did not start that war. They did. It's their fault.). So began the War of Secession (Secession?? You might as well call it "Northern Aggression"), which lasted four years. The North won, and in 1863 (Nope. Try again.) the abolition of slavery was extended to the entire country."

Sigh. And that's how everyone in my class thinks the Civil War happened. Back to the past--econ went fine, and philosophy gave me other homework instead of what the class got. It was to translate two pages about philosophy from English to Spanish. I don't know whether that means she thinks she has to give me other homework or if she just wanted to see how good my Spanish was. Thursday night we went out to the movies with Mercedes, Pablo, Chiara, Francisco, and Adriano. We watched Alice in Wonderland, "Alicia en el País de Maravillas". It was dubbed so that Francisco and Adriano could understand, but that also meant we only understood varying amounts. It was very fun, though, to go out with them to see the movie (and Tim Burton made a pretty nice movie, if he did ignore the original plotline.)

Friday was supposed to be birthday-party time for me, but it ended up not being. Anyway, first school. "TIC", then stats. I was supposed to have 10 pesos brought in for this class, but I didn't have it. Luckily, I wasn't on his class list. I'll bring it in next week. Culture was another lecture-day. But it was all spoken, no board use. I have yet to write a single word in my notebook about this class. In Spanish we read some quotes from authors about how great literature is. I think it's universal: literature teachers are most obsessed with how great their subject is, closely followed by math and science teachers, with teachers of vague humanities (any class that has "communication" in the title, basically) at the bottom. She's nice, though. It was a good class. Weekend. Finally. Maggie and I went to the mall and watched the first movie that was showing. It was The Edge of Darkness. Subtitled, thankfully. I decided not to go to the birthday party, possibly because of the large amount of alcohol promised to me. I used the excuse that we were going to Humahuaca the next morning, which was true. At Maggie's suggestion (or maybe, insistence), I had bought a CD of one of Maggie's favorite people for her, which Maggie then kept.

Saturday and Sunday the four of us went with Karina and Daniel and Karina's niece, nephew, and niece's boyfriend to the Quebrada of Humahuaca, in Jujuy, the province just North of Salta (which, as everyone in my school told me, doesn't compare to Salta's beauty. I'm not so sure. It was pretty amazing.). We left Saturday morning. It's a several-hour drive to Tilcara, where we stayed. We drove straight up from Salta to Purmamarca, our first stop. This is how I pictured the Andes. Purmamarca is a tiny village nestled between giant mountains. The people live by farming llamas and alpacas and by making various handicrafts. Handicrafts, while I'm on the subject, are everywhere. Mom was in heaven. Even I bought something, at (I think) Daniel's suggestion: a chullo hat (For those of you unfamiliar with chullo hats, they are the native costume of the North American tribe of Nordic-skiers [Hey, I can make fun of whoever I want. I have a chullo hat handwoven from alpaca fur in the tiny Andean village of Purmamarca. It even has pictures of llamas on it.].). Purmamarca, back on topic, is right near the "Hill of Seven Colors", where seven colors (eras) of rock can be seen on top of each other (This sounds like the kind of thing only a geologist would enjoy, but it was actually really cool-looking. I've never seen anything like that before.). Words cannot even describe Purmamarca, so I'll include pictures. It was spectacular. The nine of us ate in a restaurant adjoining the central square, and then we headed back onto the road winding through postcard landscapes of sloping mountains and traditional villages. We got to our hotel in Tilcara in the afternoon. Maggie and I quickly discovered a hammock and were glued to it for several hours. The first place we went was out of town to a pucará, a ruin of an Omaguaca (Amerindian) fortress. We crossed a very scary wooden bridge to get to it, but it was closed. So we went to the town center and walked around. Tilcara is very similar in feel to Purmamarca. It is a slightly-larger town hidden in between Andes mountains between Argentina and Bolivia. We went back to the hotel (i.e. the hammock) in the afternoon and some of us took naps. We went out that night to asado grill. I had what was called a traditional meal of pulled-apart meat with a fried egg on top. It was all right, but the people who had grilled meat didn't like theirs.

Sunday was equally fun as Saturday. We saw the pucará. It was pretty cool. It was a hill with the ruins of an Omaguaca settlement. At the top was (I'm not really sure about this) a sacred platform (I think?), which we took off our shoes to walk on (we didn't have to, but we did anyway). We also went to Humahuaca, the town with the same name as the quebrada. All along the road are the same fantastic landscapes I described in Tolombon (short interjection--Sorry, but I have been working for days on this and am now wanting to be done with it, so my descriptions may be a little quick. I will put in pictures.). Humahuaca was very like Tilcara and Purmamarca--a small Andean village. After that we came home with a stop in San Salvador de Jujuy, the province's capital and only city, for a snack on the city square (which of course involved looking at and buying handicrafts). So that was, in a nutshell, as they say, our trip to Humahuaca. It was very fun. I can't help but notice the parallels with our trip to Tolombon: it's a drive of a few hours through amazing landscapes that we did with family friends over a Saturday-Sunday (I'm not sure if I liked one better than the other. Not that I could say if I did. Dad has told so many people here about this blog that I now have to tiptoe around my opinions. [And he wonders why I say "I don't care" or "I don't know" so often.]). We got home late and I stayed up later finishing homework (which I didn't get finished).

Monday was an alright day. Monday was the start of gym, which I think I still need to update on. I have very little to say about the school day. My schedule was math-literature-philosophy. I handed in my translation of the philosophy papers (which I had finished the hour before in literature. Don't tell.), and my lit teacher seemed happily surprised at how much Spanish I knew. During my two breaks, I was doing my philosophy translation rather than going out to the courtyard where almost everyone else went (and, secretly [I guess not so secretly now that I'm posting it on the internet], I was kind of glad to have an excuse not to have to stand awkwardly in the corner until someone took pity on me and invited me into their group.). And so went my day. Maggie had gym a few hours after school. She has volleyball. She made some new friends (at least from what I understood, which is not much concerning 13-year-old girls). She has been sad recently about her friend situation. I'm not sure she wants me saying anything about it, though, so I'll just leave it at that (I don't think Maggie reads this anyway). Oh, wait. I was talking about gym, and then I got sidetracked (can you tell it's 12:34 a.m.?). We have extra gym uniforms, they are a blinding white: a white shirt with white shorts, white socks, and white tennis shoes. And we look ridiculous. I don't think gym went badly for Maggie. She was in a classroom the whole time (my kind of gym!). She also started dance on Monday. She is taking a crazy amount of dance here, just like at home: ballet, Spanish dance, jazz, and Carribean dance (basically, everything available to her except Irish) for a grand total of 8 hours a week. Again, as far as I know, she enjoyed it. She said the people were nice. Meanwhile, back at home, I just worked. I read a chapter of my history textbook, a chapter of my statistics textbook (Have I said yet that I am still studying world history and statistics to take the AP tests at the end of the year? Well, I am.), I did my homework, and I did a crazy amount of blogging (this is time-consuming!), but I clearly did not catch up because it's Thursday.

Tuesday. Tuesday, for the first time I took notes during class about what to write in my blog. So, here are my notes put into sentences. The first break I was all alone for the first time. The novelty of a 'yanqui' is wearing off, I guess. I was one of the last people out of the class, and then I didn't see anyone in the courtyard I knew, so I sat on a bench until break was over. The second break was better. I had a circle to stand in. My third note is that we have to pay 20 centavos for every photocopy the teacher, or we ourselves when the teacher doesn't bother, makes. That means every sheet the teacher hands out. My fourth note is that I am in love with empanadas. Man may not be able to live on bread alone, but if that bread is wrapping chicken and potatoes and spices, I think he just might. I think I could make every meal out of empanadas. And, as a person from a state famous for its rotten fish, I appreciate good local food. So, school. Tuesday was an early day. I tried to follow with some success in language, then connected the dots on my desk in my head while the math teacher explained seventh-grade algebra to students who didn't understand, then I didn't pay attention in history as the teacher dictated to everyone--not me--who didn't have their book the exercise we were to do, then I looked down and acted small in culture class. At five I had gym. I was also in a classroom the entire time. Apparently, as I read online, the handball I had heard of involving hitting a ball with your hand over a net to the other player, is only American handball, while in the rest of the world handball is something much more violent and with an unlimited number of penalties. Great. From what I saw of the other people in my class, though, they all seemed pretty short and skinny--not the football player-aggressive build who would go out for such a sport. That's a relief. That night we went to Karina and Daniel's country house, with the people we had gone to Humahuaca with and some more. Well, what can I say? I feel like I'm a broken record saying every time we go out it's 'fun'. But it was. We had asado. Mom made peach cobbler. I didn't finish my homework when we got home.

Ok. I was really lucky yesterday. The two teachers whose homework I didn't finish were both gone and we got study halls instead. That was amazing. And we didn't do much in English or TIC, either. I spent my 15 minute break inside the classroom, but I had other people to talk to in the other two breaks. I played games with other people in class during the breaks. I was recruited by a number of salteño soccer team fans yesterday. Am I a fan of "Gimnasia y Tiro" or "Juventud Antoniana"? After school, we came home. I actually had a very productive day. I did the homework I was supposed to have done and the homework due today. And I did an insane amount of blogging. Maggie had gym again, and then dance at night. Maggie got to her dance school at 7:30, and then heard that her ballet class started at 8:15, so she waited outside. While her other class was in session. Oops. I nearly caught up with myself last night. I was on Wednesday when I heard Mom and Dad come home from their dinner date with Mercedes and Nestor at one a.m. So I ran into bed to pretend I had been asleep for hours.

And now today. English-history-economics-philosophy. Nothing exciting except that my econ teacher was gone again, so I played games with other people. There was one like a North American game involving tapping hands, and if I remember what it's called I'll say. Another was basically Concentration 64, without the hand-clapping (which wasn't very fair for me, except when we did names and I could come up with a bunch of English names they had never heard of before.). I was invited to, I think, four get-togethers. One was to go to the mall this afternoon, the next to a disco (I think) tomorrow night. The next to San Lorenzo, a town a ways from here Saturday afternoon, and one to go play paintball. I went with Luluu in my class and some people I hadn't met to the mall where we stayed for a few hours and ate and window shopped (actually, this last one should be in third person). At four (when I had to be at handball at five), I started calling Mom and Dad. No answer. No answer for half an hour, actually. At that point I was on a bus home, where I waited for them until they came back from going to the pool with Vanesa and Nahuel and Guillermo (Karina and Daniel's relatives). I ended up not going to gym because I would have been so late.

And now, drumroll please..., I have officially caught up my blog to the present! Woo hoo!

Day 29

I had a pretty good day today. It might have been my best day so far. Maggie didn't, though. She had a horrible day. So, last night, as I said before, we went out to dinner with Karina and Daniel. It was, as always, fun to hang out with them. I hadn't taken enough of a nap, though, so I was falling asleep at the table when we were wrapping up at midnight. I had an early morning, too, because it's a Tuesday, so I was exhausted getting up. Hungrier than usual, too, for some reason. Well, anyway, language was first. The topic was hands. The various uses of the word "hand". After class was the usual school assembly. I could actually parse a few of the words the speaker said; this week is the week of the woman, if you didn't know. Math was next. More about regular old lines. I used my first break to go to the bathroom. One thing about the bathroom I forgot to mention (I was too caught up in the lack of toilet paper) is that the flusher is a string to pull coming down from a basin of water on the ceiling. I've never seen something like that before. But I wont spend my post talking about toilets. My third class of the day was history. The teacher came over to me and asked me if I understood the sheet she passed out. I told her more or less. Then she told the whole class that I was very good at Spanish and had made very few mistakes in the what I had turned in to her already. I was beaming at the end of this. I didn't know teachers ever said positive things.

The teachers, on an unrelated note, are called professors in my school, which, like in the US where "professor" is shortened to "prof", the students shorten to "profe". At first I thought they were saying, "prophet", as if they were asking Jesus himself whether "elección" has one C or two. Another interesting thing I've been meaning to tell you is the seating arrangement. We each chose our seats on the first day, and though I think we can change, no one does. I noticed last week that the front was entirely boys and the back was entirely girls, almost opposite of what it would be in the US, and then later I noticed that the sides are all boys and the center has girls. As it turns out, when I got a good look of the room, the boy/girl divide is a neat curve: the front and sides are all boys and the center and back all girls. Not a single student was sitting on the opposite side of this line. Not even me. Now back to my day. My last class was (shudder) culture. I tried to work on the activity, but of course there were things I didn't understand. I managed to finish the activity, though, and when I turned it in, the teacher actually smiled at me. Full on smile. Not a grimace. I left school in high spirits. Hot (I am wearing a long sleeve shirt and a lab coat in a Miami summer sun), tired (I had only gotten 5 and a half hours of sleep), and hungry (I was feeling faint in history and only a little better after I ate two granola bars), but great. I have too much homework, either. Oh, that reminds me, I should talk about Maggie's day.

While I was up walking on air, she was down in the dumps. She had spent hours and hours answering questions about computers for her computation class. Her teacher looked at her work today and said, "you need to redo this in pen". She was also chastised for the size of her drawings and the fact that she didn't use the backs of her paper. She was called out for her hours of work more than the people who didn't do the work. So, she had to redo her entire project tonight. Our cleaning lady came today. I felt a little awkward sitting on the couch while someone was cleaning our house for us. Apparently Mom and Dad did too, so we went to the mall and ate stir fry (a meal that was, shockingly, before nine and consisting of more than just meat). I really am craving peanut butter. I don't know how people here live without it. Of course, they do have dulce de leche here, and I'm not quite sure how I ever lived without that before.

One more thing before I go to bed (this was a short post for me!): ito. The suffix -ito in Spanish is used to make things smaller. For example "perro" means "dog", and "perrito" means "little dog". "Un momento" means "one moment", and "un momentito" means "just a sec" or "a jiffy". I already knew this when I came here. What I didn't know was that Argentines love this suffix. Everything but a St. Bernard is a "perrito", and every momento is -ito unless it will actually take a while. Some words are rarely used without -ito. I kinda like this. It makes everything seem cuter here.

Day 28

So. To my blog.

First, Thursday.

I had English first. It wasn't too difficult to get through (she did write "March, Thursday 4th" on the board again; I guess she just doesn't know). We read (with a fair amount of ease on my part) an article about how people were going to theaters less. Translating it was harder, but I actually managed to translate almost all of it (except "screen"; how do you say "screen" in Spanish?) This was the first time I actually finished the classwork before anyone else. I did have a small linguistic advantage. Some of the students even asked me for help. Fifteen minute break: I spent idling around until someone in my class called me over to them. History was uneventful (now read that sentence a second time; I didn't notice when I first wrote it). She talked about something historical and didn't write anything on the board, so I have no notes. In economics, there was a student election. I'm not sure what it was for. Something at the end of the year. Everyone who wanted to be elected raised their hands and had their names written on the board. The top four people would be chosen to do whatever at the end of the year. Then the teacher went down the line and let everyone choose two people to vote for. Everyone heard who everyone voted for. I was aghast. There was no way I could do that. It quickly became clear that a boy named Oso (which is Spanish for "bear") was going to win. By the time the teacher got to me (I sit in the last row), Tomás and Mer were second and third. I was frozen. I couldn't say anything. The teacher thought I didn't know what was going on, so she had someone explain the vote to me (and offer their opinions) while she finished the last row. Fourth place was a dead tie. Oh, great. My vote is the one who decides who the fourth winner is and who the last loser is. I froze. I couldn't say a word. The teacher, of course, thought I didn't know what was going on. She explained to me again that they were voting. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn't choose one of those girls I had never spoken a word to over the other. Eventually one of the students brought over the two girls who were tied for fourth and showed them to me and told me to point. I was almost laughing at this point, but I was still frozen in my flabbergastion (I am proclaiming that a new word). The teacher realized (finally!) how uncomfortable I was and walked away. She quickly did a revote for the two remaining candidates and there was one clear winner. Ok. That wasn't too fun. But I'll look on the bright side. I searched facebook for "Oso", "Mer", and "Tomás" (I was too freaked out to even remember the names of the two girls I was supposed to choose between). I found all three, and friended them and all of their friends I recognized. Philosophy was only thirty minutes and involved a small article to analyze with a group. I came exhausted and hungry because like every other day so far, I hadn't eaten anything in school. But actually, besides the election, my day wasn't too bad. Also, I forgot to mention that we chose sports for mandatory gym class. The choices were track and field, volleyball, handball, and one other that I forget. I chose volleyball as my first and handball as my second. That was a stupid choice. I should have chosen track and field in stead of volleyball. Volleyball is, I think, the sport for sports players in this school (in other words, I basically signed up to play sport competitively with people who, in the United States, would be football players). Uh oh.

Friday went pretty well, too. TIC was first. TIC, remember, is my technology class that is taught by a man who hasn't yet figured out how to bring a projector into his classroom. Friday was more dictation. He went through an entire textbook table of contents (complete with telling us where to put commas and colons) because he couldn't be bothered to get photocopies. That class was dull. Third/fourth I had statistics. This was the first day of statistics. It is my only other class taught by a man. He gave broad and vague generalizations, like all teachers, here and at home, do, about what statistics is and why it's important. Sigh. During the second (I think it was the second) break, someone invited me to their birthday party on Wednesday. Other people have said we should do things together and not done anything, but her friends repeated this today, so I think it's a real thing. I have no idea what one does at a 16th birthday when everyone has been telling me how much people drink here. Or, really, any customs. I'll figure it out. My fifth/sixth hour class was culture. With the teacher who doesn't appreciate the culture I bring to her class. But Friday's class wasn't as bad as Tuesday's. Meaning, when I was singled out, I knew what it was for and gave a long Spanish response. Take that, teacher who thinks I don't speak her language. She had us read an article about why humans developed cultures and then asked what we thought about some cultures thinking they're better than other cultures (the United States was not unmentioned in this lecture). I gave her the answer she wanted, though, so all was good. My last class of the day was language. She gave some sort of in-class thing that I didn't understand, so I just sat there. She doesn't check our homework anyway.

The weekend! YAAY! At 6:00, we got a call from a bilingual second grade class in Northfield to talk about Argentina. They asked us questions in English about what Argentina was like, the food, our school (Maggie and I tried on our uniforms for them), and the earthquake. It was cool. Besides our call, we didn't do anything all night.

Saturday morning we left with Mercedes, her parents, and four kids to Cafayate. Cafayate is a small town in the South of Salta province, about a three hour drive from here. The drive is the most amazing part. It starts flat, but surrounded by mountains in the distance, as is Salta city. But slowly the mountains come closer to the road, and the villages look less billboardy and built up, and more like one would expect a rural Andean village to look: goat pastures upon goat pastures with elderly, provincial people who don't have a chance of speaking a word of English. Then the mountains get even closer and there are no more towns. As a person who grew up in the Great Plains, I cannot even describe how tall the mountains looked to me. You couldn't even see the tops of some of them because they were lost in clouds. We turned 90 degrees around the base of one mountain and we were suddenly in the quebrada. A quebrada, as I'm sure you remember is that ever-so-useful Spanish word describing a certain type of river that flows through two mountains. Ok. So to picture the amazing landscape before us, picture putting a Southwestern canyon in the Rocky mountains, and having both deciduous forest and sandy desert in view. Then make all of the rocks a gorgeous rusty red and slant the entire canyon's strata, making it look like some earthquake millions of years ago shook the canyon until it fell on its side. And finally, running right through it, let a small, dry-season stream run slowly in the dead-flat center, as if that tiny stream had no idea of the fantastic, otherworldly, Martian (Ok, I have plenty of adjectives, but no nouns to describe this geologist's heaven. Oh, actually, I do have one.) quebrada that lay before us. And now you know what a quebrada is.

Our hotel was not actually in Cafayate, but the town next to it called Tolumbon. Cafayate and Tolumbon are both in the in desert right behind the quebrada. We spent all of Saturday afternoon and night in our hotel, mostly by the pool. Maggie and I both put on sunscreen, but got terrible burns. Maggie and I also snuck in to the building behind the pool, just to say we snuck in. It was just an office, but it was thrilling for us. For dinner, I had kid. Glossy kid, to be precise, was how it appeared on the menu. It was actually very good. The night was spent chasing boys around the hotel grounds.

I don't think I've mentioned this yet, but Sunday was Dad's birthday. He is 51 years old. We spent the morning of his B-day getting ready to leave, and then left. We stopped in Cafayate for lunch. On the drive back through the quebrada, we stopped at the important stops. There was the rock that looked exactly like frog (It was crazy. It could have been a sculpture.) and there was "La Garganta del Diablo" (flashback to Iguazú!), which means "The Devil's Throat". This was a sort of canyon-let that had been tipped on its side by an earthquake or water and gravity, so that we could walk up into the cave/canyon-let while going down the strata of rock. I have a number of pictures taken up into the cave that look like they were taken down into the cave because the bottom is now at the top. It was amazing. Back on the road we retraced our steps stopping a few more times at lookouts or reststops. Then we drove strait home and spent the rest of Dad's birthday at home.

And that brings me to today. Monday. Week two. My first class of the day was math. Apparently we were supposed to have binders, but enough people didn't have one that she stopped checking before she got to me. We also got gradebooks today, in which the teacher records our test grades (there are, I guess, no homework grades) and gives grades based on about 8 tests a trimester. After that, I have nothing life-changing to report from math class. Language was uneventful, too. We took notes from a dictation (which teachers here do way too much for this foreigner's taste) on coherence and cohesion of writing. My two breaks have been spent meandering around until someone adopted me, because the excitement of a North American has mostly worn off, but I still don't feel like I know anyone well enough to invite myself into their group. (Actually, that's not completely true. During my first break I used the bathroom, which has no toilet paper. In the entire bathroom. Thankfully, toilet paper was, um, not necessary for what I was doing, but what if it had been. That was so strange. I even looked in every stall, and none had any place for a roll. But now I know. Either before school or after.) My third and final three-period class was philosophy. Philosophy today was up in another room where the projector is, so that we could have a powerpoint. The philosophy teacher was not in the mood for misbehavior today. Two students were sent into the hall for talking, and two more were sent out for using phones. In our third break, of five minutes, I went downstairs to the courtyard and talked to Maggie. When break was over, I went to line up like we always do at the end of break, but no one was there. I decided to go up to the classroom to see if we were supposed to have already come back. We were. I was late with one other guy. We weren't punished, but she wasn't happy. Hopefully she realized that at least I had no idea what was going on. Well, at the end of class we got a lecture on behavior. She said we probably wont go back to the other room with the projector. Rats. This afternoon I spent a while writing this blog. And doing various other things. We went to a neighborhood protest of a proposed cell phone tower to meet neighbors. I pointed to Mom and Dad that we were going to a political demonstration in a South American country that, a few decades ago, was a dictatorship known for disappearing political activists. But when does anyone listen to me? We went for about five minutes. Dad was too shy to go up and talk to someone (even though he suggested we go), so we just walked away. Tonight we're going out with Karina and Daniel (I think for Dad's birthday).

Day 23

Three days down, 47 to go.

Yesterday wasn't a good day. Today was decent, but my first Tuesday I had to get to school at 7:15. No good day can start at 7:15. Well, zeroth hour went fine. I had "Lengua y Literatura" ([Spanish] language and literature). The material was actually surprisingly not as hard as I thought it would be, and my teacher seems nice. Monday's homework had been to write a reaction to a poem she had dictated (and I copied from the girl behind me) and to bring in a newspaper clipping about the earthquake in Chile. I wrote the reaction (and, if I say so myself, did a pretty awesome job of it, especially for SpanDict.com-ing every other word), but, as I said Monday, Dad disappeared with the car, so I couldn't go out and get a newspaper. Well, luckily for me, the kids in my class are much more considerate than Dad, and one of them had an extra clipping that she gave to me. That was lucky, because the whole class period was spent examining the newspaper articles. Questions such as "What is the article about?" and "What is the function of the article?". The teacher was sympathetic to me not knowing Spanish, but she had no idea how to say the words in English. Well, that went fine. First and second hour I had math. The first thing the teacher did was check our homework. Uh oh. I stammered some half-sentence about not having it, but she just asked me, "you're an exchange student right?" I understood the question, but I sort of muttered an answer. Yes, I am from the United States and will be living in Salta for a few months, but no, I did not come with an exchange program. She didn't wait for the long explanation I wasn't going to give her anyway. She turned to the student next to me, and he said yes. So, she wasn't sure quite what to do with me. "Did you understand the lesson?" Of course I understood the lesson. It was on linear functions. I did that in sixth grade. "Yeah, I understood most of it." "Um. (she's just looking for something to tell me to do at this point, she has no idea what to do with an exchange student) Did you take notes on it?" No. No offense professor, but that was hopelessly easy for an eleventh grader. "Um. No, I didn't." Now she knows what to do. "Ok, copy down what's on the board." I will. And tonight I will do my homework.

Fifteen minute break. I haven't yet remembered to bring money out with me so I can get food when people offer it to me.

Third and fourth periods: history. What I understood of what she said was that this was History II, from 1880 to present. And that we would need a portfolio, a syllabus, and a book. She had a discussion with the class rather than a lecture the first day, so I didn't listen quite as attentively.

Ten minute break. I don't remember who I was with, but during all of the breaks so far someone has invited me to join them.

My last class of the day was "Culture and Communication" (I do, by the way, have two classes with "Communication" in the title). The teacher hates me. It's only my first day in her class and she hates me. She was giving an opening lecture, and I was paying full attention. Suddenly I realized she was walking toward me with her arm outstretched (palm up, as if she was waiting for an answer). But I was still waiting for the question. She took a step towards me and opened her mouth. I raised my eyebrows in expectation for a question. Beat. She was stepping towards me. I was frozen. Beat. She raised her eyebrow and I realized she was waiting for me to say something. Not another beat when by before a dozen of my classmates suddenly burst out and told her all at once that my name was Sam Kennedy, I was an American, didn't speak much Spanish, and that she should ask me in English. She told them back that she didn't speak English and didn't care to. This class is in Spanish and she will ask her students questions in Spanish and expect them to answer in Spanish. They all stopped talking. I shrank in my seat. A couple of people told me to tell her my name. I did and she walked back to the front of the class. The class activity was a quiz-like thing. It was, of course, dictated, but I was lucky enough to get the sheet she read it from. I only finished about half of it before the bell rung. But when I turned it in and she saw it had Spanish written on it, she almost smiled. When I got in the car, Mom and Dad asked me why I was unhappy. Because I'm exhausted, I'm starving, and my teacher hates me. Lunch and a nap made me feel better. But I still wasn't looking forward to the next day.

The next was better. On Wednesdays I have all new classes: economics, English, religion, and "TIC"--Technology of Information and Communication. First/second: economics. I didn't understand very much of what she said (how many times have I said that now?). What I got was that I need a three-ring binder and what the first three pages should be (well, sort of. I understood once I SpanDict.com-ed). The English teacher was nice. When she found out who I was she told me she had had my sister in class and talked to me in (thank God!) English. But to the class, she unfortunately only spoke Spanish. She dictated to us the goals of the class and had us write the date in English at the top, which she helpfully wrote on the board: "March, Wednesday 3rd". I was holding back a laugh the whole time she was giving us the goals for the year. Next was religion. She spent the first part of the class telling us about her class and saying she wants us to be completely honest in her class. We spent the second part of class answering questions about what we thought of her class and our experiences in the school. So, I was completely honest. I said that didn't yet know what to think of her class and had very few experiences in the school. I don't think that was what she was looking for. I hope she was being completely honest in the first part of class. And my last class was "TIC", which stands for Technología de la Información y la Comunicación, and helpfully has the same abbreviation in English: Technology of Information and Communication. The teacher was a man, which surprised me. He is my only male teacher so far. He was very strict; he threatened people with disciplinary action multiple times for talking. He spent most of the class dictating out the year's syllabus. he didn't even finish. We're going to pick up next classtime where he left off. After class a very nice girl offered her notes for me to copy. I accepted with thanks. She asked if I needed help with anything else for our classes, and I stupidly said no. I have so many questions. For example, as far as I know, I am supposed to go to the snack bar, of all places, and ask for the syllabuses to my courses. This just seems weird to me. Well, two of my syllabuses are due tomorrow. I guess I'll find out then what I was supposed to have done.

But school is not all that bad. The students are very friendly and kind. They've all been very nice to me and some of them have said we should hang out. I hope so. I want some friends my age.

All right, that's all I have for you. Thanks for reading.

Oh, wait. That's not all I have. I can't miss this opportunity to make fun of Dad. I pointed out to Mom and Maggie about a week ago that whenever Dad realizes what someone is talking about, he says "¡Sí!" many, many times. We have since been counting the number of times Dad says "sí" in a row, and we have determined that his average is eight. Yes, eight. "Oh! Sí, sí, sí, sí, sí, sí, sí, sí!"

Day 21

Under the Andes: Back to School Edition

I started school today. A lot happened. Let me tell you about it. I woke up this morning at 5 to 7 (ugh...), brushed my teeth etc. and put on my uniform. We left the house at 7:30 and arrived at school at 7:40. At 7:50, after Maggie and I stood around looking out of place while everyone else greeted each other for ten minutes, the beginning-of-the-year school assembly began. Maggie and I stood idly by a column while everyone else lined up. Maggie eventually asked a girl who looked her age if that was the eighth grade line. It was. So I was by myself until a woman came up to me and asked me what grade I was in and placed me in a line. The assembly lasted 10 minutes and consisted of several speeches I understood none of, flag raising, turning one direction to another, and a prayer in which I made a lame attempt to bless myself. The words they said were all Gibberish to me. What's more, I realized I was the only person I could see with a backpack on. Everyone else didn't have one. At the end of the assembly, the line of boys I was standing behind introduced themselves to me, but I don't remember any of their names. They asked me the usual questions: Where are you from? Do you play any sports? How long will you be here for? I answered. The United States. No. Three months. I followed them to the classroom (one of the few things I did know was that I would have the entire day with the same people), where, it turns out, everyone else had already put their things. I took one of the few empty seats in the front corner by the door. The class walls were almost bare, unlike US classroom walls, which are filled with motivational posters and projects done by classes and just random collections of things. There were only three things hanging from the walls of the room: a poster on the back wall which I never turned around and read, a hand-drawn poster on the left wall which said something along the lines of "Eleventh grade: community work is no work at all if we do it together". And there was a crucifix. Front and center above the blackboard. There are 35 students in my section, and over the course of the day, I'm sure I was introduced to more than half of them, but I don't remember a single name. First and second period I had math. When the teacher wrote her name on the board, I couldn't really read her last name; it looked somewhere in between a Z and a G and a 6 (this last one is not very likely, but, hey, I don't really know, maybe Argentines have names that start with 6s). She told us that her class meets Mondays and Tuesdays first and second period. She also told us we would need a folder, a scientific calculator, and a textbook (which is bought at a store here, like other school supplies). She reviewed from last year algebraic expressions, real and counting numbers, and functions. So, much easier stuff than at home. At one point during the hour a teacher or administrator person came in and took attendance (I forgot to mention that everyone in the class stands up when an adult enters the room until she says we can sit down, as if we were in the military). This was when most of the class realized there was a new kid. I never heard a bell between first and second period. Maybe there isn't one. Anyway. She also told us our schedule (which as I said, we all do together). Here it is:

Monday:

1,2: Math

3,4: Language

5,6,7: Philosophy

Tuesday:

0 (at 7:15 a.m.!): Language

1,2: Math

3,4: History

5,6: Culture and Communication

No seventh period

Wednesday:

1,2: Economics

3: English (Yes! I know this subject!)

4,5: Religion

6,7: Technology and Communication

Thursday:

1,2: English

3,4: History

5,6: Economics

7: Philosophy

Friday:

1,2: Technology and Communication

3,4: Statistics

5,6: Culture and Communication

7: Language

This was dictated, so I'm not sure I heard it all right (especially the two different classes on Communication? I'm pretty sure that's not right), but for Monday at least, that's what my schedule is. Anyway. Second period ended and students got up and walked out the classroom leaving their things, so I followed suit. I followed them into the courtyard where the assembly had taken place. A group of girls came up to me and asked me questions about where I was from, etc. Then they took me to the snack bar, but I had forgotten my money, so I didn't buy anything. I stood next to the door with the other girls who didn't buy anything. After that, I was introduced to more people whose names I don't remember and answered the same questions they asked me before. That was my 15-minute break. My next two periods were language (Spanish, unfortunately. I would have much preferred English). This was in the same room as math, but with a different teacher. She didn't write as much on the board, so I didn't understand as much. But she did write a whole array of literary terms. She told us what we would need for her class, but I didn't understand. There was a lot I didn't understand. I did understand the homework. A reflection on a poem she dictated (and I copied from the girl behind me. Thank you!) of at least five lines and a newspaper clipping about the earthquake. I wrote the reflection in a mixture of English and Spanish and then translated the English into Spanish so it was all in Spanish. But we don't get the newspaper. And none of us know how to. So that was a problem. I couldn't do my homework. Well, the bell eventually dinged and we all left the classroom. This time a different group of girls met up with me and I tagged along with them, doing basically the same routine as last time. My third class for the last three periods was philosophy. The activity we did the first day was a reading activity done in groups. When she said this, one of the girls called out my name to say we should be in the same group. The teacher glared at me. I wasn't in her group, though. Somehow it was decided that I would be in the group of boys next to them. I was fine that. I didn't know anyone, anyway. So one of my group members read aloud what the teacher had given us. I didn't understand a word. If I had read it I would have been much better. But I didn't say that, of course. I felt bad, because I just sat there while my group members answered all the questions. I don't think there was any homework or any school supplies other than a folder. I guess I'll find out on Thursday. After school ended at 12:20 (early the first day), some of the boys in my class invited me to go do something (I'm not sure what). I'd already told them where I lived and it turned out some of them live near us. They invited me to do something that involved a type of car, and they said they would come by my house at 6:30. I said I would like to go. But they didn't think I understood, so they brought over someone to translate. She told me the same thing (except she said 6) and I accepted again in English. They all said goodbye to me and I did back. My translator walked with me to the door to the school and explained that she had been exchange student in London. I met Maggie walking to the door. Mom and Dad were waiting outside. We walked to the car. I didn't ever want to come back. The students were very friendly and interested in me. The teachers, though, seemed somewhere between indifferent and disliking me. I missed so much of what happened that first day. I know I missed what supplies I had to bring and homework I had to do. I don't even remember what I did that afternoon, I was too nervous. I was nervous about schoolwork and the prospect of going I-don't-know-where for I-don't-know-how-long with people who I'd only met today and whose names I still don't know. Well, they didn't show. Six o'clock. No one came. Six thirty. No one came. Seven o'clock. Still no one. I was a little relieved, actually. I don't really know them. Maybe later we can, but I was in a daze all day from not knowing what was going on. I'm exhausted and starving. And at this point in my post, I'm not even going in chronological order. Well, anyway, Dad left to pick up Maggie (I'm not sure from where, actually) at six. He was going to come back and drop her off, and then we were going to go get school supplies. I had my list all ready (what little of it I had anyway). But he didn't come back. Not at seven. Not at eight. I was beginning to think that our house was in some parallel dimension or something and no one could enter. We called, but Dad didn't answer. Eventually, a little after nine, two-and-a-half hours after he was supposed to come back and after all the stores had closed, they got home. It turns out they were shopping for school supplies. Maggie's only, not mine. Because Dad didn't take my list with him when he left, so I have to go to school tomorrow without the things my teachers asked me to bring. I stayed up way too late blogging and reading. Today was not a good day. And tomorrow, I am going to be even more tired and hungry than today. I don't want to go back to school. Ever.

Sigh. And now I know what it's like to be the new kid.