Puberty's a Bitch

It seems to me when I got off the plane in Buenos Aires I unexpectedly went through puberty again. I thought my years of feeling huge and awkward were long behind me, but oh no, it seems like I am, yet again, the tall uncomfortable girl in class.

I did not come into maturity gracefully (for those of you who missed this fabulous time in my life let me illuminate); unlike some of my cute-as-a-button classmates, I was the first one in a bra and the first one to be over 100 pounds. Oh the acne breakouts, the greasy face and the BO.

How could I not want those days back?

Why, you may ask, am I feeling like I have been tossed back into the throws of puberty? 

Let me explain:

The people here are tiny. I think the average height is the size of my bubbie.

I was taller than her when I was 11.

I am neither a tall nor a big girl by any means. But at a towering five foot five and an ungodly weight of 135 pounds I am somewhat of a mutant here. Perhaps it is from our steroid enhanced milk or maybe it’s something in the water, whatever it is, I am accustomed to walking into a clothing store and saying “I’ll take the biggest thing you got.” 

Advice

If someone has an accent, there is no need to point this fact out… believe me, they know they have one.

I was walking to class today and I ran into someone I knew in front of my building, I said hola and then he proceeded talk to me in an over exaggerated accent from the United States (he is from Argentina). I thought of pointing out to him that he had a horrendously ugly accent when he spoke English, but I was late for class and it was not worth my time.

Here is something I have learned;

It is ok to laugh at someone’s new language skills SELECTIVELY. I have to admit, when I mean to say is that I have an itchy foot and accidentally say that I’m horny (which in Spanish, is an easy mistake for foreigners to make) it’s ok, I can even laugh at that little mistake. But every time I open my mouth, you fall on the floor laughing? Now that’s just excessive. 

Keep your eyes on the prize

Last week I was walking to class, the sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. I was feeling great because I had gotten up early and gone to the gym and was just walking along (if I whistled this would have been a good time to do so) and I was looking around me, and all of a sudden I slipped on something, much like cartoon characters when they step on a banana peel… but this was no banana peel. Lucky for me, I walked right into a fresh pile of dog poop, lovely. It was so fresh and so big that I nearly fell right on my back. (Fortunately, I didn’t)

At this point you just kind of have to laugh. What else can you do? I think the gods of Buenos Aires have a terrible sense of humor. When things are looking up, and you are feeling great, you step right into a pile dog shit.

But I digress… There I was with a little something extra to bring to class, but I had to do just that, go to class. I was going to be that kid that smells like shit, great. (I have a new found empathy that kid)

I managed to find a nice big dirty puddle to wash off my shoe. I thought I had gotten all of it off, but when I got out of class I discovered that I must have crossed my legs in class because I had gotten some charming Argentinean dog poop on my jeans.

Yup what a great way to start your day. 

 

Born in the U.S.A

Today I walked into my marketing class and the teacher said, “Ok, pass in your homework.”

I didn’t realize we had homework. And I was feeling so on top of things too! 

Well I am right back to being a bumbling American. I might as well be wrapped in an American flag, holding an apple pie in my hands and singing Bruce Springsteen hits at the top of my lungs.  

Things are looking up for this Yankee

My Spanish is improving! I can feel it happening (well, some days). Today just happens to be one of those days here is way:

I have posted this blog using our brand new Internet! It only took about 3 weeks and hours of frustrating phone calls to get it but we have it non-the less. Here is what happened… we were at our landladies’ house signing the contract and they told us all we had to do to get Internet was to call this number and we would have Internet in no time. Wow that sounds so easy. Looking back I now see how naive we were; Things in this country are neither fast nor easy for us Yankees (they say it shhhaaankees here).

 Anyway, I started calling the Internet Company, fumbling my way through, explaining that we are the new renters and we don’t want cable and we want to add Internet. Que fácil no? Well…

Just as soon as I felt like I was getting somewhere, they would transfer my call and I would be on hold, waiting and waiting, and then all of a sudden, it would say, “I’m sorry everyone is busy now. Goodbye.” Now repeat this sequence of events 6 to 10 times. It was like talking to Verizon times 100 thousand.  

Now you have an inkling of how I felt.

One thing I have noticed in hindsight:

Now usually I hate it when people speak to me in English. I want to tell them, “Hey I am here in YOUR country to learn YOUR language, if you want to speak English go to an English speaking country.” Time and time again people hear my accent and want to “try out their English”

In this case I would not have minded if someone spoke to me in English. I would have welcomed it! But do you think anyone spoke English at Fibertel? Not one. I started out every conversation with them like so… “I’m sorry I don’t speak Spanish very well, do you speak English?” They would reply to me no or try to “transfer” me to someone, in which the call was always lost. Umm interesting.

Anyway the moral to this story is go to the actual Fibertel store, because I found one and in no time I had an appointment for a guy to come and install the Internet. No one could hang up on me there! They told me anywhere between 8AM to 2PM someone would be by. Well at 2:30 I get a phone call and they told me that sorry no one has been by, but stick around until 5 and someone will come. Greeaaat sure I can just hang around my house all day long!

Finally someone came… he came and said, “I’m here to install the cable.” What? I said very clearly (at least I thought it was clear) that we DIDN’T want cable. Haha And what’s more, there are apparently two types of wireless Internet, one for PCs and one for laptops. Of course the guy had the one for PCs.

Well back to the Fibertel store I go and set up ANOTHER appointment. The next set of guys come and have the correct wireless. But one more catch, when I ask if they could set up the password for us, the told me “no we can’t, but all you have to call this number to set up a password”…  I think I will forgo this “simple” task.

I am counting the little things here. Getting Internet: one point for Jenna on her odyssey to learn Spanish.