Mon., Feb. 20, '06, 3:51 p.m.
Did you know that the residue from a fire extinguisher looks like freshly-fallen snow? Welcome to Argentina, where you can be calmly sitting at a cafe one minute, and witnessing a car explode the next. OK not explode exactly, but a car just definitely pulled over near the cafe where I am with its entire trunk on fire, at which point the driver promptly popped out and pulled a fire extinguisher out of his ass (I seriously have no idea where he got it from), and put out the flames. Then - you're not going to believe this part - a police officer WROTE HIM A TICKET, and he drove away. Now everyone is walking over the residue as if nothing happened at all. Ex. Cla. Ma. Tion. Point. !
In more normal but still weird news, apparently, the Argentinians don't use salad dressing. They don't even have a word for it. Technically, the Spanish word is aliño, but I asked my host mother about it and she said they don't sell it in grocery stores. They use oil and vinegar, and ya esta (that's it). Interesting, no?
So ... I haven't written in a while. I begin this way to introduce the fact that I am again in Buenos Aires, after a 26-hour journey. But again, I feel that before discussing where I'm going, I need to go back to where I came from. Because it's been a month. A very eventful month.
I don't really know how better to say this, so I'm just going to say it. I've already mentioned him in past entries, but two months ago, December 17th, I met a boy. Two months later, February 18th, that boy drove me to the airport and saying goodbye to him was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. His name is Ryan, he's 25 and training to be a chef (yes, he cooks for me), he is a huge part of my life now, and he is wonderful.
So a plethora of things have happened since I last wrote. I'm just going to describe some of the more relevant ones, so I don't forget them, and because they are important to me.
About three weeks ago, I tweaked my neck doing high kicks. It felt like I had pinched a nerve or something, so I rested it for a while (i.e. didn't train) so it would go away. But it didn't, and in fact was so bad by nighttime (it worsens during the day) that I felt nauseous from the pain, so I went to a chiropractor. I then felt better and promptly went back to training, doing weights, pilates, and West African all in the same day, then ballet the next, which was a mistake because it came back. Oops. I basically stopped training completely at that point, stopped riding my bike because that aggravated it, and stopped dancing completely. While this is upsetting, of course, I had plenty of other things to think about and people to spend time with before I left, so it wasn't the end of the world.
For example, I had to think about my visa. To make a VERY long story short, I finally made it down to LA to get my visa for Argentina. I did it all in one day, making Kenda pick me up in Long Beach at 8am on a Thursday and flying back at 11am the next day. I borrowed her car to drive into LA, which was less intimidating than I thought, stressed out about whether they would accept all my documents while I waited for the verdict in the waiting room, and sent Ryan an elated text once I had the actual visa in my hand: "I GOT IT!!! Happiness is only outweighed by relief!" I was so worried about all the steps and procedures, but more about the fact that I was supposed to leave in 2 weeks and already had a plane ticket. "OK," I thought when they gave me the visa, "Now I'm really going." It's a good thing Kenda drove me back to the airport, too, because otherwise we never would have had the important girly time in the car for her to impart important girly information. Tee hee, Pindly. Then she dropped me off: the first of many goodbyes.
Then the next weekend I had a lovely time with my girls. Jeanette and Beth came 'round from the South Bay, and we had a nice walk in the park talking about life, and were then joined by Emily, Nicole, Tiff, and Angie for happy hour at Tsunami Sushi. Then later, after realizing the Falafel place was closed, we got food and went home to prep for going out. We had a fantastic time in North Beach, crashing a club called Dragon where Nicole's friends from high school were. They totally hooked us up, getting us in free (skipping the long line outside), and giving us drink tickets. Plus the DJ was great and my neck was feeling better so I got to dance.
The same weekend I also got to go out with Jing and Emily, for dinner at Zao, drinks at Solstice, and then fun in North Beach. Emily is still working on how to tactfully reject her many suitors. ;)
Then both of my parents visited me. :) My mom came for about 2 weeks, and we had a great time. She went on what was apparently a fantastic trip to the Grand Canyon with Cindy, although we have to take her word for it because her computer promptly ate all the photos. Cindy did a good job of recreating some of the images for us, though. OK, well, one picture: Amish mashed potatoes. Thanks, Cindy. ;) We also had a very nice time catching up and talking about everything in the world, as we are prone to do, especially over lunches at delicious vegetarian restaurants and hot cider in coffee shops. Besides that, Ryan, my mom and I spent a lot of time together. Among other things, we went to a few really nice dinners, made homemade pizza and chocolate-covered strawberries (OK, Ryan made it - he always cooks), played the Friends charades game, went to Pier 39, and had Ghiradelli ice cream and DELICIOUS Afghani food with Nicole, Gabe, and Tiff.
Then about a week later, my dad came to visit. We were supposed to go to Tahoe, but this fell through when my chiropractor said, "Snowboarding? Hmm. Can you just watch?" So instead we went for a hike on the coast with Cindy and Daniel, had morning breakfasts at cafés, and got crepes at Ghiradelli square after watching the sea lions. He only came for 4 days, but it was great to see him before I left.
I then had a very special Valentine's day, complete with roasted crab, a professional massage, a yummy sundae, and a dentist appointment. Hah, I didn't really realize I was scheduling the dentist appointment for Valentine's day, it just sort of worked out that way. But it was fine, the rest of the day way, way, WAY made up for it. :)
At some point in there, I also went on an outing with Cindy, a labyrinth walk. While I was picturing a Harry Potter-like maze of menacing bushes, it was actually a meditative exercise in a church where you walk a labyrinth that's on the floor (it's like a carpet with a path on it that goes all the way to the center in a circular way, and then out again). I actually found it very helpful in helping me meditate and really think about leaving in a real way ... and how sad I would be. It was also well worth going for the funny thing that happened on the bus ride home:
So Cindy and I are sitting in the back of the bus, and at the front is a guy with a big piece of foam. I ask Cindy what she thinks it is, for his couch, or just to be comfortable on the bus, or what? He happens to look back at us, so I say out loud, "What's your foam for?" And he says, "I don't have one yet!" It takes me a sec, but then I realize he thinks I've just asked him out! When you mouth the words "What's your foam for?" it looks an awful lot like "What's your phone number?" which is what he clearly hoped I was asking. I was not. Now, not to be conceited or anything, but I was clearly out of this guy's league. He had to have been like 40, and not cute. At all. So Cindy and I start cracking up, and I spend the rest of the time trying to avoid his gaze. THEN, when he went to get off the bus, he looks at me and says, "Follow me!" (as if I would get off the bus right then with him!) and I mumble something incoherent, and then he says, "Find me!" (as if I would ... what .... stalk the street where he was getting off??) Honestly, it was such an odd experience.
That's all for now -- I've had this written for a week and haven't posted, so it's time. I have a lot more to cover but I'll do it in another entry.
Something funny:
Men and Women
Dave Barry
Let's say a guy named Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"
And then, there is silence in the car.
To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
And Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Martha is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily towards, I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Fred is thinking: ...so that means it was...let's see...February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Martha is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed - even before I sensed it - that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.
And Fred is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Martha is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And Fred is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty...scumballs.
And Martha is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
And Fred is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their...
"Fred," Martha says aloud.
"What?" says Fred, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have...oh dear, I feel so..."(She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Fred.
"I'm such a fool," Martha sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Fred.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Martha says.
"No!" says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that...it's that I...I need some time," Martha says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)
"Yes," he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
"Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Fred.
"That way about time," says Martha.
"Oh," says Fred. "Yes." (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
"Thank you, Fred," she says.
"Thank you," says Fred.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a college basketball game between two South Dakota junior colleges that he has never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it.
The next day Martha will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification.
They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either.
Meanwhile, Fred, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Martha's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?"
And that's the difference between men and women.
Something political (hey Ryan, remember them mentioning ACORN at the rally?):
Dear friends at MoveOn.org,
Several months ago, I was a teacher with over 30 years experience and a home in the Lower 9th Ward of New Orleans. After Hurricane Katrina, and the flooding that followed the levee failure, I found myself far from home in Houston, with my house, my job, and the life I had known washed away.
But today, many of us facing the same situation found ourselves in a new place—Washington D.C. Over 400 members of the ACORN Katrina Survivors Association got on busses in cities around the country on Tuesday and rode through the night to take part in the "ACORN Rally for Return and Rebuilding."
We came to send the Bush administration and Congress a simple message—do not forget us; keep your promise and provide the funds to rebuild New Orleans and the Gulf Coast.
We marched from the U.S. Capitol to the Cannon House Office Building, where Democratic members of the House of Representatives held special hearings on the post-Katrina housing crisis. House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi called the Bush administration's response "a scandal of incompetence and cronyism."
ACORN members testified about our experiences and the need for funds to rebuild the city and its public and private housing. We told them about how the ACORN Home Clean-Out Demonstration Program is saving houses in New Orleans, and asked that the federal government to support this type of effort.
ACORN also secured meetings with two senior Bush administration officials—FEMA Director R. David Paulson and Herbert Mitchell of the Small Business Administration (which has rejected most applicants for its Disaster Assistance rebuilding loans). Both officials promised to follow up on concerns we raised during the meetings—but neither would commit to the most important requests for the resources to rebuild.
Finally, we took our demands directly to the White House, where we held an early evening rally, followed by a prayer vigil featuring poems, songs, and testimony about those that were lost and the lives that were changed.
The day concluded with reception at the AFL-CIO, where we felt a welcome we have not had in a long time.
But we are not happy that we have had to come so far to make these simple demands. Like most of the other displaced people, I have worked since I was young, paid my taxes, and never asked for anything special from the government. Now, when the need is dire, the federal government has turned its back on us and refuses to live up to its responsibility. We learned today that we the people must change the laws; the system is broken so the people must change the system.
Kemberly Samuels
ACORN Katrina Survivors Association
And something learn-y:
The etymology of the word "OK":
OK
1839, only survivor of a slang fad in Boston and New York c.1838-9 for abbreviations of common phrases with deliberate, jocular misspellings (cf. K.G. for "no go," as if spelled "know go"); in this case, "oll korrect." Further popularized by use as an election slogan by the O.K. Club, New York boosters of Democratic president Martin Van Buren's 1840 re-election bid, in allusion to his nickname Old Kinderhook, from his birth in the N.Y. village of Kinderhook. Van Buren lost, the word stuck, in part because it filled a need for a quick way to write an approval on a document, bill, etc. The noun is first attested 1841; the verb 1888. Spelled out as okeh, 1919, by Woodrow Wilson, on assumption that it represented Choctaw okeh "it is so" (a theory which lacks historical documentation); this was ousted quickly by okay after the appearance of that form in 1929. Okey-doke is student slang first attested 1932.
Language spot:
From my friend Gabe's blog:
"One slight drawback to the cozy feel that makes San Francisco special: 795,000 people, 4 empty parking spaces. I suppose I’m not the first one to notice this."
Courtesy of my Mom's astute reading of the AP press wire:
"Justice Samuel Alito made his debut during the arguments, asking Hopper what would constitute a tributary about three minutes into the hearing. Alito was otherwise silent, listening intently to the attorneys and occasionally sipping from a silver chalice."
From work, cryptic but somehow wise:
"I am convinced that in the space opened to everything people earn as much as they seek for."
"In textile development, I find it quite important to mind the poises between traditions and innovation, as well as practical utility and human creativeness."
Quotes from my latest book, From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil. E. Frankweiler: (this first one is a conversation between a 9-year old and an 11-year old)
"As they were walking up the steps, Jamie spied a Hershey's almond bar still in its wrapper lying in the corner of the landing. He picked it up and tore open one corner.
'Was it bitten into?' asked Claudia.
'No,' Jamie smiled. 'Want half?'
'You better not touch it,' Claudia warned. 'It's probably poisoned or filled with marijuana, so you'll eat it and become either dead or a dope addict.'
'I doubt that. Who would drop a whole candy bar and not know it? That's like leaving a statue in a taxi. Someone put it there on purpose. Someone who pushes dope. I read once that they feed dope in chocolates to little kids, and then the kids become dope addicts, then these people sell them dope at very high prices which they just can't help but buy because when you're addicted you have to have your dope. High prices and all. And Jamie, we don't have that kind of money.'
Jamie said, 'Oh well, bottoms up.' He took a big bite of the candy, chewed and swallowed. Then he closed his eyes, leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Claudia stood with her mouth open, stunned. She was on the verge of screaming for help when Jamie opened his eyes and smiled. 'It's delicious. Want a bite?'"
----
"'Yeah, I guess homesickness is like sucking your thumb. It happens when you're not very sure of yourself.'"
----
"'If I tell, then I know for sure that my adventure is over. And I don't want it to be over until I'm sure I've had enough.'
'The adventure is over. Everything always gets over, and nothing is ever enough. Except the part you carry with you. It's the same as going on vacation. Some people spend all their time on vacation taking pictures so that when they get home they can show their friends evidence that they had a good time. They don't pause to let the vacation enter inside of them and take that home.'"
----
"Claudia said, 'But Mrs. Frankweiler, you should want to learn one new thing every day. We did even at the museum.'
'No,' I answered, 'I don't agree with that. I think you should learn, of course, and some days you must learn a great deal. But you should also have days when you allow what is already in you to swell up inside of you until it touches everything. And you can feel it inside you. If you never take time out to let that happen, then you just accumulate facts, and they begin to rattle around inside of you. You can make noise with them, but never really feel anything with them. It's hollow.'"
