The Tour Guide...Facilitator...Go For

Yes, the Remiss service arrived promptly though they never did answer the phone. However time was spent in needless northamerican worry. Standing at International Arrivals while watching those coming from Rome, Madrid, Sao Paolo, London, Miami, Atlanta make their way out of customs to the waiting crowd, the kisses, hugs, screams, tears all brought tears to my eyes. I was swept into those moments of reconnecting between loved ones. And there was some difference in the way people entered the scene that had a bit of a cultural hint to it. I am sure you know what I am about to say but those coming from Rome, Madrid, Sao Paolo or the latins from Miami were more demonstrative.

Standing, waiting, I am thinking..."oh, I should have brought a sign with their names...I could have schmaltzed it up a bit... pictures... yes, pictures of the arrival." Alas, what each received was just me with a big kiss, hug, and warm welcome. And since the arrivals yesterday were all in from Michigan or Chicago, WARM welcome was the most important. I reassured myself that was enough.

Though the actual retreat experience doesn't begin until Thursday when I am truly on, I was aware of wanting to assist in anyway possible on day one to ease entry. This may have been more for me than them. I found myself feeling proud of this land, wanting to share my delight, wanting to see the excitement in their eyes seeing for the first time what have become familiar sights to me. Though questions were asked that I could not answer there were many queries to which I could respond comfortably.

As tour guide I thought about Maslow's hierarchy and went about the business of meeting those needs. Shelter ... I escorted each to her apartment. Food (and wine...did Maslow forget wine in his hierarchy???)...this meant a trip to Puerto Madero's La Parolaccia for lunch. Clothing...It was a walk down Florida, past the Galerias Pacifica...to point out the best places to shop. And back to Food again... I couldn't imagine not stocking up on staples (which includes wine) at the local grocery store. Throughout the day I was, as la terapeuta, thinking about belonging, community, self esteem and how I could begin to foster those with the group. The self actualization part was for another day. I was tired and opted to stay home last night to conserve energy! It was time for those interested to venture out and experience Buenos Aires nightlife on their own.

Final preparations... a northamerican's perspective

Last night I am checking into the additional apartment for the group's arrival. It is late and the last minute details a bit more complicated when you do not know the system. Is it necessary to change the locks? I mean this is a short term rental apartment, like weekly. Do they do this every time? I wonder. I contracted with a remiss service for transportation to and from the airport. Again a bit complicated because I will need two cars arriving an hour apart. They give me a card with their number that says 24 hour service, smile, and say call anytime. I just called to confirm and noone answered. Gabriela would smile at me and say "This is Argentina, mi querida (my dear)! You Americans..."

El beso de la mujer arana...

The kiss of the spider woman.... I never knew the author, Manuel Puig, was Argentine and born in Buenos Aires. He died in Cuernavaca, Mexico in 1990. He is considered one of Argentina's most important contemporary authors. And "The Kiss of Spider Woman", published in 1976, is considered one of his best novels. The director, Hector Babenco, brought this work to life on the screen. This book is the focus of my studies now. Reading in Spanish, I am continually told by mi profesora, is the best way to advance at this stage. Frankly, I would rather watch Raul Julia "weave" the tale.

The Super Bowl in Spanish!!!

What is wrong with this picture... the Super Bowl in Spanish, surrounded by none of my usual suspects, and the Bears lose?! Tell me, what gives?

Los Infiltrados

Last night I saw "The Departed", entitled "Los Infiltrados" in Argentina. They change the titles of the movies here and cut to the chase. Doesn't that make more sense...Los Infiltrados... The Infiltrators. Of course it does. Makes me wonder what The Departed means. Last year I saw "Secretos en las Montanas". You got it "Brokeback Mountain". See what I mean!

Life's Contradictions...

There is an international sign that indicates it is safe to cross the street, right? The light turns green, then the man in the little box next to the light become illuminated in white or green and his legs are in motion as if he is moving at a normal pace. Well that fits here as long as there is not the possibility of traffic turning into the intersection. Truly the picture of that man should be running and dodging cars enroute to the saftey of the opposite curb. There seems to be no spanish translation for "yield to pedestrians"! On the other hand as I walk the streets, safe from the intersection, I observe those waiting for the bus. They queue up in very orderly lines, generally a foot between each person, waiting patiently for the arrival of the bus. Then they enter the bus slowly. Sometimes those queues can be a block long. There is no pushing, no hurry. What transformation takes place when the Argentine is behind the wheel? Life is full of contradictions.

Vida Natural

Spent part of the morning at Vida Natural, Centro de Yoga y Arte. The class was Iyengar. "Floja sus hombros." Oh! That's what you meant. "Relax your shoulders." I just didn't understand the Spanish command. It is not like my shoulders are tight or anything like that. Yea, right, Maureen . I can hear you say. That was the morning after a lunch at Bio in Palermo. The appetizer...Berenjenjas grilladas a la crema de tofu y albahaca (grilled eggplant with tofu and basil cream), was followed by the entre...Tofu a la naranja y salvia con ensalada tibia de vegatales de estacion a la salsa de semillas de sesamo y timbal de arroz (orange tofu and salvia with tepid salad of seasonal vegetables topped with sesame seed sauce and rice kettledrum.) And you thought I was hanging with the gauchos consuming carne!!!