Greetings from Buenos Aires

I made it! I got in about 6 hours ago, and I spent about 3 of those hours passed out in my new bed because I wa sandwiched in the middle seat for 10 hours on the way down. In the United States this is called riding Bitch, and if it is not fun in a Honda, it sure as hell isnt in a Boeing 747. I have spent the rest of my time unpacking and exploring the city. I have not been here long, but I have already been able to identify many, many differences between home, so I am going to try and share some of those with you in the 20 minutes I have left.

1. First off ... what. the hell. is going on with these keyboards. I have yet to figure out how to do anything but type on them, since all of the punctation points and symbols are different. This means that I have to google search an email address so that I can copy and paste the sign between mpmalenf and olemiss in mpmalenf@olemiss.edu, just so I can log in. That should be easy to figure out, but I dont want to ask for help because ...


2. The language barrier. This is a real problem. While I can communicate, effectively at times, clumsily at others, I have discovered a new degree of self conciousness. For the sake of brevity I am going to avoid going into too much detail on this one, but if my Spanish doesnt improve I should be skilled enough to work as a professional Mime when I return to the States.

3. I thought Soccer was the national sport. While I have seen a lot of guys in Manchester United jerseys, neither my house mother or my taxi driver are fans. On the way in I did notice that the Argentines on the outskirts of town found a way to pop up a pair of goals in just about every half cleared area, but I have yet to find anywhere to play near the house, and my house mother is little help with this. After I finish this posting, my exploration will continue.

4. I had my first taste of a parilla, the traditional Argentine grill where all kinds of meat are raked over the coals right in front of your eyes. I got a choripan ... thats grilled sausage on a roll ... and vacio, or veal. It was one of the most flavorful cuts of meat I have had in a while, but there was tons of connective tissue that made finishing the fattier bites a real test of my chewing endurance. Thankfully, my jaw will be getting a good rest until my next meal time, because I doubt I will do too much talking.

Final thoughts ...

If there is a shortage of old beaters from the 70s and 80s in the United States it is probably because they are all here. On the drive from the Airport to mi casa I saw banged up Beatles and Mustangs in every color imaginable. Some of them were multicolored. Everything else is a Peugot or Renault.

Cyclists are everywhere. You would have thought the French got bored and relocated the Tour de France to Buenos Aires. It might just be a Sunday thing, but there were tons of guys in full spandex peddling by on the way in.

Alright, I am running out of time. I will keep in touch.

Ciao!