Argentina's Economic Problem

I am convinced that Argentina's economy is bleeding out because of a little thing called the moneda (coin). Yes, the chunk change we American's take for granted and only really care about when it comes time to feed the meter. Argentina's moneda condition is the most frustrating thing I have had to deal with while being in South America. Let explain to you why.



There is a serious moneda shortage. Everywhere you go, you see signs that say "no hay monedas" (we don't have coins)... you're wondering what the big deal is. Well, for starters, this city runs on buses- you can take a bus anywhere and everyone does it- rich, poor, etc etc. But the buses ONLY take monedas and so if you want to go to say, class, you need to have 90 cents in change. But you realize you don't have any b/c no one gives you change, so you go down to the local kiosk to buy a bottle of water, so you can get change. Cost: AR$2.25. So you hand over your five peso bill.

Kiosk owner: tenes 25 centavos? (do you have 25 cents?)
Tu: no, no tengo (lie, you might have 25 cents but you're not parting with it!)
Here, the kiosk owner does one of two things.
Option 1: Refuses to sell you the water, b/c he's not going to give you change.
Option 2: Sells you the water, and tells you to owe him 25 cents. Like you'll remember that. I've tried to repay all my IOU's, but I'm fairly certain I owe someone 20 cents.

So now you still have no change and you need it to get to class. What do you do? You go to the next kiosk and try again, this time buying gum (which you don't even like to chew) or a piece of candy (though you're on a diet). And if per chance you get your change, it's only enough for ONE bus ride and so you're left with the same problem after class. Sometimes you rely on the kindess of friends to spot you a moneda, but just like you lied earlier to the man about your 25 cents, odds are that they'll lie to you too about whether or not they have another moneda.

Once, my friend and I were trying to go home at 2 am after salsa dancing and she didn't have a moneda. I only had one so we went on a search. Kiosk after kiosk said they had absolutely no change. So we got desperate and started asking strangers, hoping for kindness. Instead, they informed us that no one had change and told us, as though we were tourists, that no one will have change b/c it's a problem in Argentina. WE KNOW THIS. That's why we don't have any change.

So back to my theory- Argentina's economy is bleeding from the change purse. If I were an expert in econometrics, I would prove that the economy is losing millions a year by having a shortage of coins. Why? Well- by forgiving your 20 cents (or giving you an IOU and you forgetting), or by NOT selling goods because they don't have change to give you. Also by the loss of productivity & opportunity costs while you spend so much of your day looking for chunk change.

Why can't the government just print more monedas? Well, according to them, they made millions more in coins recently. But there's a black market- a moneda mafia!!- that hordes those little coins and sells them to those desperate enough to buy them for a higher price. You want 5 pesos in monedas? We'll sell it to you for 8. Can you believe that? And who is one of the biggest culprits in this ring of chicanery? The bus company!! Though they deny it, the government recently found over AR$5 million in coins at a warehouse owned by the bus company! The government confiscated the money and returned to them the same amount in bills. But that didn't solve the problem and I'm not sure what will. In the meantime, I continue to curse this country every time I need monedas and wait for some much more talented economist to figure out how many millions this shortage is costing the economy per year.

Celeb gossip

A year ago this time, I was obsessed with celebrity gossip. I watched the tmz show, I constantly hit "refresh" on people.com/usmagazine.com/perezhilton.com/tmz.com- you get the idea. In fact, everytime I was bored at work, I went to one of those sites (this was often).

And then one day, my best friend- the girl who sent ME gossip- told me she'd gone cold turkey, like she was battling a bad addiction. I asked her why, wondering who would replace her as my source of barely-heard celeb gossip. She said that she realized she was part of the reason the papparrazzi (sp?) fawned (and arguably contributed to the demise of) people like Britney and Lindsay (who I was completely obsessed with- I mean, she's a cute, freckled redhead who was heading towards disaster).

I immediately realized she was right and was dutifully ashamed of myself. But my life was so boring! And there's wasn't. So I turned to there's to hear what was going on- new party spots, new boy toys, new DUIs. But that day, I, too, went cold turkey on the celeb gossip.

And my life suddently stopped being boring. I had a great boyfriend, grad school, a great summer job, friends a-plenty, Argentina. And now, it's gone back to desperately boring as I study for my impossible final on Friday. I've been holed up in my apartment, leaving only to take my laundry to be done (a half block away) or to buy bread to make a sandwhich. So, when utter boredom/avoidance strikes, I've gotten in the habit of turning back to a few (semi-reputable) sources and check in w/ people.com and usmagazine.com.

Only now I realize, their lives aren't that exciting at all. Why was I ever obsessed with those girls? I mean, sure, they're not stressing about finding jobs or paying off their student loans, but what else do they have going for them? I'm not going to lie- celebs are still alluring, but my almost year away from gossip made me realize that I'm just not that into it. Or maybe I'm just saying that b/c Britney and Lindsay have temporarily gotten their lives back on track? Who knows. But while I had a momentary relapse after nearly a year, I am going cold turkey starting today. Ok, Saturday, after my final/reason for avoidance ends

However, if anything hits the fan- or Brad and Angelina finally decide to adopt a Latino baby, someone shoot me a quick email so I don't miss anything!

Babies?

I'm not going to lie, Argentina makes me want to have babies. Ok- not really but it's hard not to feel surrounded by pregnant women and little kids in Buenos Aires. You get the feeling that people really love their mothers and value everything that they do. Mother's Day didn't feel like another excuse for mom to get out of cooking or get some new toy or bouquet of flowers. It felt like they really wanted to celebrate these women and show them lots of love.

But I didn't notice this just on Mother's Day. I noticed it from day one. And I remembered today while I was waiting in line at Zara to pay for two lousy things. Lines in Argentina are insanely inefficient and slow and so while I've become more patient, I can't say I'm used to it yet. Regardless, my point is... Some woman asked another woman if this was the line (no, we're all just standing here for fun) and the woman said yes, why don't you go to the front. At first I thought I heard wrong- why would you ever let anyone in front of you?? It's already so slow! And then the lady turned around and I realized she had a HUGE prego lady belly. And even the girls behind me were like, ooooo, that's why, she has such a belly. I'm sorry, but you hardly ever see that level of kindness (or common courtesy?) in the states.

Everywhere you go- there are special lines and special treatment for pregnant ladies or mothers with children. EVERYWHERE. So much so that Woong and I have joked about giving me a fake pregnant belly to get through our shopping days faster. It really does make you want to be prego just so you can get to the front of the line. But also there are so many cute little kids around that you can't help but smile at the (often screaming) tykes. But seriously- is it in the water? I've never seen so many pregnant women in my life.

Why do people think I look Chinese?

Walking out of my building with my Korean bf.

Kid #1 to Kid #2: Mira, un chino y una china.

What's amazing is that I hear this all the time...

Lost in Translation

conversation between myself and a local man (Porteno) in English

Me: How do you two know each other?
Porteno: We are, uh, partners.
(silent looks around)
Me: You know, in America, if you say "partners" we think "lovers"
Porteno: Uh... that is not what I meant. (embarrassed smile)

Argentina Classes

First, I'd like to say that I've always thought my Spanish wasn't really good enough for three post-graduate courses taught in Spanish. Now I know that I was absolutely right.

The problem is two fold: first, some of my professors speak at lightening speed, like the micro-machines car guy that guest starred as a teacher on Saved by the Bell. And second, when I do manage to generally understand the topic, it comes out that I actually know very little about Latin America. Which is tragically sad since my masters is focusing on Economic Development of Latin America. Granted, this is my second year of my program and only this year was supposed to start taking my Latin American courses, but that's no excuse.

I mean, I'm FROM Latin America. It's so close to the United States. I am an INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS student. And yet, I have no idea who these leaders in the 80s were, how these countries came to exist and how they got to where they are now. Generally I do- but only the part that involves Europe. Like, so-and-so western power colonized so-and-so in Latin America. I know a bit more than that, but overall, not enough to be able to actively participate in my class.

But never fear. That's what grad school is for- to expand my knowledge. That's also what Wikipedia is for. And so for the next few days, I will be devouring information on Wikipedia in hopes that my basic understanding of Latin American history grows enough to understand my professors. One of which, btw, graduated from Cal in '04 with a degree in Political Economy- like I did- and is now teaching me about Political Economy. Something about him being qualified and published makes him- once my classmate-- a well respected professor.

The Other Side of Argentina

We just got back from our first Argentinian adventure and as much as I want to sit here, in my little apartment in Buenos Aires, and do absolutely nothing, I figured if I don't blog about my trip this weekend, I never will. Mostly because school and real life starts on Monday and I'll be busy with other stuff. I will do my best to update you all via blog about my first trek through the other sides of Argentina.



All of our pictures will be up shortly if you're interested on Picasa... the link will be on my facebook but let me know if you want it and aren't on facebook.


Woong and I decided we were in dire need of leaving the city- we were tired of the polluted air and of the busy city life. We planned as far as Puerto Madryn, which is in the Patagonian region of the country. There, we would venture to Peninsula Valdes and Gaiman and from there we would go wherever the breeze took us. After a few days we decided to go all the way to the southern most tip of Argentina- Tierra de Fuego- via bus and then fly back to Buenos Aires. We crossed that out quickly when we realized we could only get to Tierra de Fuego by crossing Chile and on a plane with valid ID- i.e. our passaports. Which for some reason, Woong thought we should leave at home. As Homer says, D'oh. A day or two later, while planning the rest of the trip, we decide to take a bus to Tierra de Fuego and then fly back to Buenos Aires. Does that sound familiar? Yeah, we came up with the exact same plan that we had already realized wouldn't work. So now we needed a new plan. We decideed to head west into the Argentine Andes to two small towns in the Lake District of the country- El Bolson and Bariloche.

Here is the story of our trip, as abbreviated as I can for those of you that can't be bored with details.


Day 1: Long bus ride to Puerto Madryn. Apparently, the train systems in the country are very unreliable. One guys journey took him 24 hours for what should have been a 5 or 6 hour ride. The buses are all awesome Benz-type vehicles with first class seating. Movie choices are severely questionable (Zohan??? Drillbit Taylor?? Two of the worst movies I've ever seen).

Day 2: Arrive in Puerto Madryn. It's a port town known for their seafood (Argentina is not known for good seafood at all, in fact, our guide book says to avoid it) and as a gateway to Peninsula Valdes which is a Unesco World Heritage site and one of "South America's finest wildlife reserves." It happens to be breeding season for the ballena franca austral (southern right whale) so they are insanely close to the coast of Puerto Madryn. How close? You felt like you could swim to the whales and frollick in the sea with them. This picture doesn't show you how close they were b/c my camera zoom/focus isn't great for shots like this.

Whale off pier

I didnt' expect it to be this cold but I was freezing and buried myself in my thin coat.

English translations are questionable in this country.

We also went to a highly recommended seafood resto where Woong ordered the wrong dish and ended up with a plate of deli meats instead of seafood. He looked so disappointed that I insisted he order his seafood dish. He still orders the wrong thing and ends up with fried calamari instead of this fresh seafood platter with four different dipping sauces.


Day 3: Tour Peninsula Valdes. Tour includes whale watching trip (where we were FEET away from the whales), penguin watching (the magellanic penguin also breeds here during this season), and elephant seal watching (also breeding). Along with maras, guanacos, and burrowing owls. Mara's are this weird version of the North American Hare and guanacos are related to lamas. Woong and I were amazed by the wildlife and felt so outside of ourselves. Days earlier we were in Buenos Aires, starring at stray dogs and puffs of black smoke from buses and here we were now, on the peninsula, feet away from wildlife we'd never seen before. We got to see elephant seals fighting over women an the whale watching was an amazing chance to get close to these famous whales, though at some point, we were so close that our boat was rocking uncontrollably.

Day 4: We head to Gaiman, which is a small town south of Puerto Madryn known for its Welsh heritage. It took us a few minutes to figure out what country the Welsh were from (oops) and then we went to a tea house. Actually, first we went to have lunch at the WORST place we'd ever been to. I think they make all the food and then microwaved it upon order. The lasagna they brought me smelled like serious ass and Woong had some chicken stuffed thing that was equally awful. We were so disappointed that it sort of set our mood for the rest of our tour through Gaiman. We went to tour a park called El Desafio which one man spent over 30k hours making out of strictly recylcled material. The park was pretty cool and we figured, worth a fortune if you were to take all those bottles and cans in to the recycle center. Apparently, stemming from their Welsh heritage, people in Gaiman are serious about their tea and cakes. Our guide book suggested we eat lightly or skip lunch but clearly we didn't listen so we went to eat cake after our nasty lunch. The portions were HUGE and we coudln't finish it all, but no worries, we wouldn't let any cake left uneaten. We took it with us. But only after we ate as much as we could and worked through the serious giggles Woong got (sugar high?)


The rest of the days are sort of blurry. But here's the gist of it.


We went to El Bolson which is a hippie haven, apparently. It's Berkeley meets Tahoe, though far less industrialized and crowded. It was recently named a non-nuclear zone and ecological municipality (see the touch of Berkeley?). Here, we rented mountain bikes and went on our very first mountain biking excursion EVER. We rode them up to Cabeza del Indio and were so excited to be on the mountain, just the two of us, in the Andes, that we complete forgot to STOP and look at the famous Indian Rock. Instead, we kept riding toward the Cascada Escondida (Hidden Waterfall). We were already on quite the adventure since at some point, Woong's front breaks went out and he spent over half an hour trying to fix them. At some point, I had to ask if he knew what he was doing and he admitted he did not. He, thirty minutes later, realized it was something far more simple and he fixed his breaks in about 2 minutes, though they were pretty crappy breaks and kept falling apart periodically.


After that we get to a clearning that said "Cabeza del Indio 90 minutos" the way we'd come. We knew from the rock to the hidden waterfall was 90 minutes from the rock we missed so we knew we must be at the waterfall. Though we can't see anything. So we get off our bikes and followed the sound because we could HEAR the waterfall. We get past a few trees and finally see the waterfall!! We were so proud of ourselves and mused that it really was a hidden waterfall. Then we wanted a picture of ourselves so I fight with some branches to set the camera up to take the picture of us standing in front of this breath-taking fall.

We finish the picture, hop on our bikes and ride about 3 more minutes when we see some signs pointing and follow the crowd. What do we find? The REAL hidden waterfall! Out in the open, over 50 feet tall, thunderous and crashing with some bridges taking you close by. What we found was something on the side, about 3 feet tall, and not for one second had we stopped to think, wow, THIS is it??? We laughed at ourselves for being so foolish and took had some other tourists take a few pictures of us next to the Cascada Escondida.

At that point, we took a wrong tour somewhere, though to this moment, Woong and I can't agree where we went wrong. Regardless, we were definitely on the wrong part of the mountain, not meant for mountain biking. We could hear the road so didn't want to give up but the mountain was so steep that at some point Woong slipped and went sliding down the side with the bike. I'm not gonna lie, I was afraid but thought best to let him finish falling and THEN panic. I couldn't understand why he held on to the bike while he fell, I thought he'd break his arm that way for sure. Turns out he thought if he held on to the bike, somehow he'd stop falling. He did not. In the end, we made it down (semi) safely and landed ourselves in the cemetary. Nice.

After that six hour adventure, we decided the only thing to do was drink some beer. El Bolson grows hops, in fact, nearly three quarters of the country's hops are grown in El Bolson so really, we had no choice. In the end though, we had one liter of beer and decided to pass out.

The next day we went to their outdoor market for some of the country's best empenadas. In under an hour, we hit an entire corner of the market and had two waffles, three artesenal beers, two empenadas, and one giant milanesa sandwhich. Right after, we hopped on the bus and decided to spend our first day in Bariloche being piggies and gorging ourselves with their famous food. As though we hadn't done that same thing in El Bolson that day.


We decided to spend the rest of our trip in Bariloche for many reasons. First, it boasts some of Argentina's best food. Second, it has the country's best chocolate. Third, more artesenal beers. And lastly, because the lake-side city was breathtaking. We spent one day just eating and drinking (seriously) and we went horseback riding another day. The trip included an all day excursion through the Andes mountains and a home made asada (bbq) halfway through. Lunch was AMAZING and HUGE and no one, I mean no one, ate more than Woong. One Chilean tourist came close but in the end, Woong made me proud and ate more meat and chorizo than anyone else.

The horseback riding was worth every penny. I am not skilled enough to describe how gorgeous the Andes are and it was so meditative riding a horse through the hillsides of the mountain range. We snuck up on an entire herd of deer and realized we were really in the wild when we found a clearning with deer bones licked completely clean. Woong was thought of as the troublemaker by others as he quickly tested his horse out and galloped through the plains. At one point, riders in the back screamed for us to wait and as I stopped my horse I immediately knew something had happened to Woong. Sure enough, the man fell of his horse. (pause for laughter). In all fairness, it wasn't his fault. I think the saddle wasn't put on properly and while he was trying to cross a small creek and go up a steep hill, his saddle just sort of slid off to the side and as one tourist from Madrid told me, he was sllowwwwlllyy holding on trying to stay on but rolling off the horse until Woong finally fell off. I wish I'd been there to laugh and take pictures.


That pretty much concludes our trip. Woong did have one more fall but this one was just plain walking down the street and though it was absolutely hilarious, it might be one of those you had to be there stories. We came home today, about ten pounds heavier and tired of buses. We're being complete bums today before whipping ourselves back into shape tomorrow and heading out for a much needed workout.


We've returned with a new appreciation for the country and our city. I think we both understand now why everyone falls in love with Argentina and it was satisfying to come home to Buenos Aires on a beautiful day with a gorgeous sunset.


We plan to hit the road again soon, this country is so big and there's so much to see!! But for the meantime, we're both rejuvinated and happy, having enjoyed a wonderful vacation and of course, I'm glad to have shared that all with him.

Our Next Big Challenge

Argentina consumes the most amount of sweets out of all the countries. A habit Woong and I are gladly partaking in.

We signed up for Sports Club- a big chain gym in BsAs. We had our first trip to the gym right before we left for our vacation.

Next big challenge: converting miles and pounds into km and kg. I had to enter my weight on the treadmill and had no idea how many kilos I weighed so I took a wild stab in the dark. I went home and realized I had entered my weight as either an 14 year old girl. Perhaps it was wishful thinking? Then I had to enter my speed in kms and pick weights in kgs. We were both very sore the next day and refused to believe it was because we are out of shape but because we didn´t know how to convert our usual weights into kilos.

The Simple Pleasures

To us, food is one of those. I'm sure most of you can agree that nothing is better than your favorite dish and a great glass of wine after a long day. I, personally, have a love affair with Mexican food- particularly the Burrito. Umm.

Argentina is three things: soccer, wine, and beef. I'm not gonna lie- the beef is pretty good. I'm learning about a variety of different cuts and how it's possible to eat a great piece of beef plain- not covered in A1 or some other steak sauce. Their pasta is pretty good too- after all, it is influenced by the Italians.

But one thing travel books forget to tell you is that that's pretty much it. Don't get me wrong, great beef can come in many different ways- sandwhiches, plain, with papas fritas. As can pasta and pizza. But there is so much more out there- peppers and cumin and sage and even fresh basil. You're not going to find much of that here. Woong and I- being of origins that genuinely value spice- are dying out here. We have to ask for pepper everywhere we go. And everytime we order a dish marked as spicy they warn us- "oh, that's very spicy, be careful."

It never is. We've yet to have spicy food. We tried Indian food hoping for some tasty vindaloo. No. We tried several Chinese restaurants. Nothing. Even tried two Mexican restaurants. Still no good.

So we decided to scour the country for the infamous chili pepper. They just can not be found in Argentine grocery stores. We hit up the Chinese stores too since we're blocks from China town. Every time we go there the Argentine locals stop Woong and ask him how much something costs or they'll point to some Chinese writing and ask him where they can find that. He's not Chinese. At least he feels comfortable here because locals are used to a high Asian population (both Chinese and Korean) and so they dont' stare at him everywhere we go like they did in Mexico.

But our search turned up fruitless until today!! We found a new Chinese store that had JALAPENOS!! We were so excited. OH- and, PINTO BEANS. Yes, at the Chinese store. And for you people that think all Latino's south of Tijuana are the same- Argentinians don't eat a lot of beans and so pinto beans are a rare, rare find. As are tortillas. Those things are synonymous with Mexico and more Central America- definitely not Argentina.

So the next time you bite into that spicy Thai dish or kimchee, think of us here in Argentina, eating our tasty beef, longing for a mouth-burning bite into some chili pepper- any chili pepper.

The Moment we Felt Argentinian

This moment hit us last night. The two of us were playing pool in Palermo SoHo and then decided to have dinner at this great looking parrilla. After the usual stuffing-of-selves with meat and wine, we came home and looked at the clock. It was after 1am and we'd just finished dinner. We finally did it! We assimilated ourselves into the culture. We thought about going out and staying at the club til 7 am, but we're not yet there and decided to save that for another night.

Our First Days as Tourists

Casa Rosada (Pink House) Our First Tango Show

Woong: hehehe, that street is called Mai-pu (pronounced My Poo)

Me: seriously?? :)

Woong's best dancer pose

A rainy day from our balcony

Our first days in BsAs

We've been in Buenos Aires for two nights now. And I 've caught Woong's cold. We haven't been able to switch to BsAs time so we're going to sleep at 4 and waking up at 16. (I'm switching to the Argentine way of doing time). I don't have many adventures to share since I've been dying the past day but we did try to make the most of our first night.

Some observations: Buenos Aires is a big, dirty city. It's a cross between Mexico City and New York City, with a drop of European. It took me forever to realize why Buenos Aires has pizzeria's on every corner and is renowned for their ice cream. I kept wondering what their fascination with American pizzas is until it dawned on me that Buenos Aires has heavy Italian roots. It was my AHA moment. Duh- that explains the pizzerias and plentiful ice cream.

Buenos Aires is also very polluted. Lonely Planet says the city is "lax on pollution controls." It's not as bad as China but it's not very refreshing either. Want to know something else they're lax on? CLEANING UP THEIR DOG POO. Again- Euro influence? Woong and I couldn't help but think how glad we are to live in America, a country that cleans up their poo.

Our first meal was at 20hrs on a Friday night. We hadn't had anything to eat since 8 and were famished. The restaurant didn't open til 20hrs. Argentines don't eat dinner til about 22hrs so we were the very first ones in the restaurant. But let me tell you, they don't f*** around with their beef. It was delicious.

Our first dinner in BsAs

We also tried grocery shopping which was an adventure in itself. And I DO speak Spanish. I mean, I got that "leche entera" is whole milk, but the rest of the milks were so hard to understand. And there were so many options for salt I had to ask someone which one was table salt.

The rest of the time I've spent lying on our couch and watching our 100+ cable channels. About half of the channels are in English w/ Spanish subtitles and the other half are American programs dubbed in Spanish. As we speak, Woong is watching The Simpsons in Spanish. Good to know we won't be behind on our pop culture.

My Best Madonna impersonation

Woong at our front door, which we can watch on Channel 98.

And the adventure begins!!

By going nowhere. As you may or may not know, I'm going to be living in Buenos Aires with my wonderful boyfriend until at least January. Our graceful exit was scheduled for today- United to Dulles (DC), Dulles to Buenos Aires. We said our good-byes over a handful of dinners [and a cake aptly saying "Hasta la Vista" courtesy of Carolyn and Satura Cakes (yes, I do free marketing if you're interested)].

After staying up past two trying to get ourselves ready and waking up at 8:30, we miss our flight. Technically we didn't miss it and I blame United for us not being on our way to BsAs right now, but that's another story. So after some frustration and a rescheduled flight, we gathered our 4 check-in bags and two carry-on bags and head to Angel's place in the Marina for yet another final night in the bay/California/United States. We go back and forth for a second as to whether or not we should have a quiet night in or call up our friends.

We chose the latter. Not for anything fancy but for a FEAST of Korean bbq at the Brothers in the Inner Richmond. We text our friends and had a last minute dinner with seven great friends.

And now I'm ready to go. Again. I'm determined to make my flight and by Friday at 9:30 am- local time- I will be in Buenos Aires. As excited as I am, I was sad when I realized what I was leaving behind. It dawned on me just how lucky I am, to miss my flight, have great friends to stay with, drive me to the airport, and have a huge dinner with- all so last minute. I won't have that in Buenos Aires and I'll miss it plenty.

Thanks to all those friends that had pounds of Korean meat with us today. I'll miss all of you. Hopefully- if I ever make it to Argentina. :P

Mean Girls

My friends say that I'm "too nice." I used to think this was a compliment until I realized their version of "too nice" translated into "you let people walk all over you." I've worked on this a little bit and now I feel that when they tell me I'm nice, it no longer means "you're a fool, grow a backbone."

But I got to thinking on the way to work about what it means to be nice. There's a gentleman, presumably homeless, that gets on my bus every morning with a bag of food and eats all his food. Nothing fancy- today he had a slice of plain white bread and some juice. But I couldn't help to think when he got on "on here comes the smelly man." And then I thought to myself, Betty, that's just mean. Clearly the man is having rough times and he seems nice enough.

That's when I started breaking apart what it means to be nice. I have nice friends that no one would catagorize as mean, but they are quick to be snide or annoyed when they feel the urge. Then I have friends that are nice to me but can say really mean things. I recently told one of my gfs after she told me how nice I am that the only difference between her and I is that she is unabashed about saying her mean thoughts outloud to whomever will listen. Whereas I keep my mean thoughts inside, because I think they are mean and saying them outloud will make me a mean person.

Aren't I already a mean person by having said thoughts? Oh, she should not be wearing that. Woah, her kids are not attractive, and recently, wow, thank goodness for him he looks like his father. Or, by checking my thoughts, and recognzing that they are less than friendly, am I seperating myself from the Mean Girls? Are mean thoughts a part of human nature and how we express them is the determining factor of what makes us nice or mean? Or is that all BS and I'm really not as nice of a person as I thought?

I'm not sure, but I'll keep debating this in my head. In the meantime, I 'll just follow Thumpers mom's advice (which I think is actually one of the golden rules of life, but Thumper says it so well): If you can't say nothing nice, don't say nothing at all.

I can't believe my eyes

I'm the first one to say how little I actually like/respect Paris Hilton. In fact, she might be why I stopped following celebrity gossip. Her and Britney. And Lindsay. Regardless, this is just plain funny. McCain's poke at Obama, using a comparison to Paris Hilton and Britney Spears, has completely backfired. I had no idea Paris could be funny. I'm sure most of this was scripted for her- but she pulled it off well I just had to share.

http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/

The original video:
http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/64ad536a6d

"I am living my life's mission."

That's a statement we ask our clients to answer on the scale from 1-5, 5 being that they most 'strongly agree' with the statement at hand. I read it over and over again this week as I spoke with our clients. Some of them would answer without pause and shout out 4 or 5. Some of them would hesitate and speak out loud to themselves, "well, that's where I'd like to be" or "ooo... that's a good question, am I?" And as I waited patiently for them to ponder over the topic, I realized that is a good question. "Am I (pause). Living my life's mission??"

I quickly came to the conclusion that I first have to know what my life's mission is. And as I covered the topic with our clients I thought to myself that of course I'm living my life's mission. That's when I paused to think that over. Not just conceptualize but verbalize what that really means. Does my life even have a mission? I'm not actually sure. I know I want to help people. But is that a mission? Is a mission the same as a purpose? Does my life have a purpose? Is it supposed to?

I have no clue. But yet, we expect all of our clients to be able to answer this, and quickly. I'll continue to ponder my life's mission... so that I can determine whether or not I'm living it. In the meantime, I suppose the best approach is to live it the way I think it should be lived: by making myself happy. Whatever that may be.

What a great day for Californians

Today, gay couples in California began to get married with the same pride, dignity, and love, that straight couples head to the alter with everyday. One friend of mine said that I was so excited about this and wasn't sure why b/c I'm not even gay myself. I understand what she was trying to say- I took no offense to this. But my question to those that wonder why I'm so excited is simple: why aren't you? I think that one day, hopefully in my lifetime, children will be learning about the next civil rights movement that gave gay and straight couples the same rights and they're going to sit back and wonder why they didn't have those same rights to begin with, the way today, it's unbelievable that black people once had their own schools and couldn't drink from the same fountain or sit on the same bus bench. They are going to look up at their gay parents or their best friends amazing gay grandmother and ask them if that really happened and how people could be so cruel.

One man criticized California, saying that“marriage has traditionally been known, across continents and all geographical regions, as between a man and a woman." If we followed tradition, you might be a slave owner- unless of course, you were a minority and then you'd be nowhere. This has been a year of breaking tradition and recognizing wrong from right. Everyone lauded Hillary Clinton for being the first women to make it so far but I was appauled that it took so long for a woman to break tradition and get to where Hillary did.

I am always eager to let everyone know that I'm from California, but today, I am especially proud to be a part of a few states to recognize that marriage and love know no boundaries. Let everyone have their equal chance at a happily ever after (or even a divorce). I encourage everyone to vote against a CA constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage in our state come November- we've all learned by now how much one vote matters.

Congratulations to all the happy couples!

100 things

I read about some guy named Dave who is trying to make some sort of statement about consumerism and is reducing his personal belongs to 100 items. I wondered how far I could get myself in doing such a thing... so here's my best attempt to reduce my personal things to 100 things, and my reasoning behind them.

http://www.guynameddave.com/100-thing-challenge.html

1. Shoes-my 13 pairs I brought with me for my 8 months all count as ONE thing, simply because I say so.

2. Teddy Bear

3. Make-up- so I don't wear a lot of it, in fact, daily I only wear eye liner and brow pencil, but I reserve the right to pick up my teal eye shadow, mascara, or foundation if the occasion calls for it, so make up will also only count as one thing.

4. Laptop and it's accessories- which I need as a student and to watch online tv now that I live in a Flintstone house with no cable (who does that??). Plus, my laptop can double as a tv/dvd player so that takes out a few things I don't need.

5. Blow-dryer and 6. Straightener- I have short hair at the mo' and it needs to be straightened frankly.

7. Do tampons count as a personal belonging? I'm open for debate, but just in case they do, I'm adding them to my list out of necessity.

8. Toothbrush, floss, and mouthwash- to borrow from an old friend, clean teeth are happy teeth and my ortho work cost too much for me not to keep up with this.

Wait, I think I'm going about this the wrong way. I'm keeping 1-3 and re-doing 4-8 as follows.

4. Communicaton devices- including but not limited to my laptop, cell phone, phone book, and ipod.

5. Hair products- including but not limited to: bobby pins, hair clips, wax, blow dryer, straightener, headbands, and hair brush.

6. Toiletries- including but not limited to: tampons, shampoo, toothpaste, floss, lotion, hand sanitizer, perfume and deodorant.

7. Clothes- winter, summer, spring, and fall weather, includes hats, scarfs, purses, and accessories and my wallet along with all of its contents (id, cc's, grocery discount cards, business cards).

8. Books-I know there's a library but I don't like used books or library smells so I'm keeping my books and yes, all 50+ of them count as ONE item. You can go to a grocery store in to the 15 item or less line and buy 15 oranges and 1 box of cereal and still go in the 15 and under line, so why can't it?

9. Luggage- I like to travel, I need this. And my set of 3 all counts as 1.

Wow, who needs a list of 100, I can do it in under 10. Oh. Wait...

10. Jewelry. No, I'm adding this to clothes (under accessories!). So I'm still at 9.

Who is this man Dave that thinks the world is full of consumerism?? I'd be interested in hearing what others would keep if they had to limit themseslves to 100 items or less. I think it's easy, if you take my approach. :)

Here I come!

"Tengo el agrado de informarte que has sido aceptado para realizar el Programa de Intercambio con la Universidad Torcuato Di Tella durante el Fall Semester 2008. Felicitaciones!"

i.e. Argentina here I come...

My First Winter in DC

Technically, I've lived through 25 winters, but this particular winter was very special for me. Now, I realize there are a few of you out there from the mid-west or New York, who have lived through sub-zero winters but you can write about that in your blog. This is my blog and so we're going to talk about my first east-coast winter.

I realized it was over earlier this week when the low for the day was 46 degrees and I remembered how desperate I was for the weather to hit 30 degrees during winter. I somehow learned that 28 degrees for me was nearly insufferable, but 30 was something I could tolerate.

Winter was especially hard with the loss of all my winter clothes (see UPS blog). I decided to spend my first snow day inside- not just because it was snowing but because I think I was hungover. :) I finally chose to meet some friends at a Dupont bar for drinks and put on my boots, gloves, and scarf. The snow was cold, the breeze felt like pin pricks across my bare face, and my head was cold and naked. But I also remember being in awe over how beautiful the snow-covered nights were in DC. The moon was somehow brighter and the snow lying on the sidewalks and houses appeared to glow under the street lights. Nonetheless, I was miserable and ran out the next day to buy four hats and ear muffs (quite possibly my favorite possession, next to my teddy bear and chapstick).

I also used to be close to tears over the 'long' walk from Farragut North (18th and I) to Sign of the Whale (M between 18th and 19th). Every uncovered part of my body was in pain, my body was tense, my breadth became this enormous cloud of fog in front of me. Now, I walk from G and 23rd to Sign of the Whale and marvel over how close the distance is. But somehow, when the whether hit 15 degrees, sub zero with the windchill, that seemed like a lifetime away.

But winter is gone and already, it's a distant memory in my mind. I spent the weekend enjoying 80 degrees in my sun dress and short, summer hair, enjoying the purple, yellow, the white flowers I see everywhere, the white and red daffodils that seem to have been planted over night, and the trees that though bare still, are now dotted with little green buds.

I survived my first winter living on the east coast and I have at least one more to go. Though Spring and Fall are still my favorite seasons, I realize now that there's something to be said about snowy winter nights. Not a lot, but something... :)

Fine Lines and Sensitivity

Absolut Vodka recently ran an ad in their Mexican market (seen above) that basically says that in an Absolut (and perfect) world, Mexico would have all of it's territory as though the U.S. never robbed it from us (this author's opinion... :)). It's a commercial meant to do no harm... just that in a world- an Absolut world- everything is glorious and perfect and Mexicans would associate this glorious world with having their land. Let me tell you this first- most Mexican's don't think they'll get this land back ever... nor do they spend their days wishing they did or plotting to get it back.

But US consumers are so upset about this ad and find it so offensive... why? They can't handle that the U.S. took over Mexican land? Are they afraid that Mexican's are going to cross the borders armed with tanks and guns and take back the land? What are people so sensitive about?

On another advertisement note... I recently saw that some bar in some small city nowhere decided to advertise their taco/cerveza specials as such: Wetback Wednesday. And the community was in an uproar about this.

Let's discuss the differences:

Commercial 1, Vodka: Insults no one and jests at the fact that a perfect world for Mexicans would be a world where Mexicans owned Mexican land- what a concept.

Commercial 2, Tacos: Uses a common derogatory term for Mexicans to imply that on Wednesdays, said bar has cheap tacos and cheap beers.

Both Absolut Vodka and the bar have pulled their ads. Absolut with an apology for offending people and pointing out that this was for their Mexican market. The bar changed their sign to say something along the lines of: For the easily offended, now offering Mexican American Wednesdays. Clearly the bar missed the point BUT also brought up another good point... they also have White Trash Wednesdays and Trailer Park Tuesdays and no one complains about those... Well... yes. But this has been a long running argument. It's a very fine line that might always be blurry... what's the solution? I don't know. But if any of you are in marketing, I would suggest staying away from alluding to all racial jokes just to be safe.

Unanswered Questions

As I prepared for my presentation on sexual and gender based violence (GBV), I shuffled through the reading- things you'd expect (rape, sodomy, trafficking) and the things you wouldn't think of (trading sex for rations, boy-preference as GBV, etc). What disturbed me the most was the dirty, unsexy fact that a large portion of GBV is committed by the very people that are meant to protect these already vulnerable populations. Humanitarian workers. Police offers. Peacekeepers. It baffles me and makes my head spin in circles trying to get a grasp around it.

In 2002 UNHCR put out a report about the outstanding levels of violence perpetrated by humanitarian workers. The report quoted refugees and other workers, young girls saying they were told only girls who had sex with the workers would get food, or aid workers who said they knew about it but did nothing to stop it.

Today we had a guest speaker who mentioned this study and how the aid world was appalled. Yet, in 2006, UNHCR released another report saying nothing had changed. She (working for a US govt org) said that they discovered gross offenses by a NGO in Northern Uganda and they published a report the NGO was not happy about.

So I asked... well, you published the report. And they were unhappy. And you probably didn't fund them again. And then what? What happened to these offenders?

Her response: Excellent question. Nothing.

The ICRC is working on this problem, but in the meantime, she said some of these offenders are fired. Some are just reprimanded. Some return home. And live normal, happy lives. In the meantime, they leave behind women and children, already facing tsunamis, civil war and now being exploited by those mandated to protect... what happens to them?

I order life like I order my lattes

If you're a simple person with simple tastes, then you know exactly the kind of person I am. You know, those people at Starbucks that make you roll your eyes and restlessly tap your foot while I order my coffee. I want a small,non-fathazelnutlattewithnofoam. One breath. Oh, and I refuse to conform to saying "tall, skinny latte." I'm ordering a drink. Not a hot blonde for a date.



The other day I was thinking about how everything in life that I choose is like my latte. It's never JUST a latte. I have very complicated interests. Whether it's food (no Japanese, seafood, or sushi, and no peanut or coconut based curries) or movies (nothing too deep or complicated, no cheesy, slapstick comedy), I am a simple girl with very complicated interests. But I think Starbucks is on to something. Why shouldn't you have your coffee exactly how you want it? I mean, I've heard people order their latte's at 120 degrees. Who even knows what that is?? But I agree with the principle behind this- Burger King has it too with their "have it your way" campaign.

Only every now and then, you find something that didn't fit your particular interests. For example, after my first failed LDR I refused to even date guys that lived outside of SF proper. No. My guy would have to be intelligent, driven, and live within the seven mile radius that I called home. Instead, I started dating anEast Bayer (which, as my good friend said, she "knew you were serious when you went to the east bay twice in one week") who didn't fit my smallnonfathazelnutnofoamlatte mold. But it turns out it was exactly what I was looking for and exactly what I needed.

On one hand, we feel we're entitled to exactly what we want. We want it our way and we've been taught that in this modern age, we can have it exactly how we want 95% of the time. But I can't help but wonder if we're missing the unexpectedly amazing things that fall outside of detailed descriptions of food/careers/styles/men that we think we should have. It's quite possible that we often let the good pass us right by while we're looking at the horizon for something exactly as we imagined it to be.

It's a dangerous trap we risk falling into. Perhaps it's high expectations. Perhaps it's narrow-mindness. But I'm sure I've passed up a good thing or two in the past and I'm sure I'll do it again. I'll continue to order my smallnonfathazelnutlatte just the way I like it, but I'll take good care to ensure that while I do that, I'm not passing up that unsuspectingly good new drink.

Days like this...

Make me feel like I'm in San Francisco. Fresh, crisp air and sunny skies... I wish DC was always like this...

I wish.

I used to just wish I was a little bit taller (I wish I was a baller) but then life happened and I grew up and I got wise and mature and my hair grew, my boobs filled out and I still was not taller. So I moved on to wishing for things that might be more plausible. I wished for a college degree, a good job, great friends, a guy I could be cheesy and dorky with. Great shoes (with three inch hills that for a short time period, made me seem taller) and an ipod that played Michael Bolton, Boyz II Men, and the entire Dirty Dancing soundtrack. The problem is that shoes wear down, ipods run out of battery and need to be replaced, and a college degree will only get you so far.

So I'm always left wishing and wanting. Like most human beings, life is never enough. And today, I tried in vain to lure away my friend from her apartment, bf, job, and school in order to run away with me to wherever our credit cards could afford to take us. I say I tried in vain because I know that neither of us would ever leave our anything- we're not those kind of people. I'd never drop out of school (nor would she), we'd never leave our bfs (do you know how hard it is to find a good man?) and we'd never put ourselves in an unknown situation- where we're not sure how our bills are getting paid, when we'll have more money, and what we're eating for dinner.

So today, I don't wish I had new jeans or a new haircut (two things that have been on my mind lately) but today, I wish I was the kind of person who would go to Mexico/Italy/New Zealand on vacation, decide I loved it so much, and just stayed. Who didn't spend my life wishing I could live one way or the other, that just did. My bf is that kind of person- always reminding met hat I CAN go do x, y, and z if I want to, I just have to do it. It's hard for a person who thrives off stability and certainty to do things like that. But I've been wishing for 25 years (nearly 26) and it's time to run away to a brand new place where I'm happy enough to not want to run away. So this year will the be the year I run (not literally) to my happy place. I will be that girl that doesn't want to go somewhere but that does go somewhere. Whether it's a new city, a new job, or even a new country. Yes, no more wishing for me (unless it's for a new, magical way to make me a little bit taller, the Skeelo way).

The Unemployed Grad Student Life

Well, to be frank, it's a sad, boring life. My other grad school friends say I'm lucky and wish they didn't work. And sure, it has its perks- I sleep til whenever I want- though I try to wake up by ten. I have time to go to the gym and blast Kanye's workout song (I'm hoping to get me a baller man). I have bountiful hours in which I can complete my bountiful reading and not worry about staying up til 2 am getting through five chapters of econ.

But let's talk about the downsides of not working. And not just the fact that payday skips over me like Santa skips over the naughty kids, but the stuff everyone overlooks. Like the fact that since I don't work, I don't have coworkers. This curtails the amount of coworker happy hours- not that I could go to them anyways because all my classes are at night. And once I'm done with the gym, showered, and ready to go, everyone else is still at work. Because apparently, I'm one of the few that opted out of being responsible and took the unemployed route instead. My roommate works. My friends work.

So what human contact do I have until they're off work? Well, there used to be the Starbucks guy until I gave up Starbucks. The library clerk doesn't even look up when I walk into the building. And so I'm left with the pressing desire to actually go to class so that I can catch up with my classmates. This of course, is the 3 minutes before class starts and the 5 minutes we have reserved for a break. And if I have to use the restroom, that curtails my contact with society by at least another 3 minutes.

Of course, my friends have time to hang out when they're done with work. This would be my non-grad student friends. Only when they're getting off work, I'm heading to class. And my grad student friends go from work, to class. This essentially frees ALL of us up by 9pm at the earliest. Except for Tuesdays when a few of us are free by 7pm.

And thus Tuesdays at 7 becomes 'human contact' hour for me. But only once a month because we have study groups, papers, reading to do. So the other three weeks I'm waiting for the weekends or for my roommate to get home, who, btw, also works and goes to school. Then the weekends pour in. And you think, finally, I can have some fun. Wrong. Because despite the fact that you're unemployed, you still haven't finished studying for your midterm, writing your paper, or preparing your group presentation that are due Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of next week. And so you spend the entire weekend, confined in your room/library/cafe, chatting online with your other sad grad school friends, waiting for your Monday class so you can chat with someone other than your gchat friends and your sister that calls you daily.

Yes, I am asking shamelessly for pity. That or a few thousand dollars so I can repay my first year of grad school, drop out, and get a real job with a real life that permits me to once again, have some fun in my life.

Things I Miss

The fog rolling over the trees.

Silly kisses from special people.

Pork buns. Steamed, baked, any way you can make them.

Rushing, busy people with pink bags.

Days when 6 pm for me was 6pm for you.

Carne asada plates with red salsa (and a hint of green).

Barts/metros that wait for transfers.

Writing my name on a white board to wait for dry fried beef.

People of all races and sexes walking hand in hand.

Steep hills up the street, down the street, east, west.

Unfinished bridges linking east to west.

Three dollar mojitos.

Friends that are shorter than me but equally as cool.

The World According to Sister

Today I shared with my sister that I decided (just this weekend) to support Obama. her stunned silence was expected- I was well aware that she is a Hillary fan. What came out of her mouth next led me to question her judgement.

Sister: You are no longer my sister. I disown you.
Me: Huh?
Sister: A vote for Obama is a Vote for Oprah!
Me: hahahahah. Seriously? I really question your judgement sometimes (yea, I said it).

I had a few hours to laugh and let her statement linger... and laugh some more. And then she called me back a few minutes ago.

Sister: You know, Oprah is trying to take over the world.
Me: No she's not.
Sister: Yes she is, everything she has is called O. Her magazine, everything. You think it's a coincidence she supports O-bama?? She wants to take over the world... next thing you know it'll be the United States of Oprah.
Me: hahahahah. Really?
Sister: And she's using Obama to do it! (Pause) Are you listening?
Me: Oh, yea, I'm sorry, I was busy laughing.

And there you have The World According to Sister, who, though usually intelligent, has just solidified my arguement that I am the smarter sister.

The Kindness of Strangers

My friend was kind enough to give us her couch as she is inheriting one herself. We took the couch because a) we need another one and b) we don't really like the couch we have now. My female roommate and I have two male roommates- who somehow always tend to be gone or asleep whenever we need help carrying heavy things and so we're left to fend for ourselves.

After parking the beast of the van we had, we carried the couch from the basement parking lot of her building, to our van parked around the corner, and into the beast. Then we had to park again in front of our house. Needless to say we were having a difficult time parallel parking this 9+ foot animal. Our street is only wide enough to allow one car pass at a time so we were most definitely blocking traffic. A garbage truck was trying to to the other direction but they waited patiently as my roommate backed up, pulled forward, backed up, forward, back... And then the waste management personnel (i.e. trash men) hopped off the back of their ride and offered, with a big smile, to help us park the van. And they did so in seconds.

All I could think of in the meantime, while the man parked our van, was that my wallet lay in the middle console for anyone to take. I was actually nervous about this man stealing my wallet while I watched him park.

And then we took the couch out and lugged it out of the van and up the first few stairs to our door. Then we hit another few stairs and I pretty much gave up. My arms were tired, I was tired, and it was starting to sprinkle. And here comes kind stranger number two, a young Oaxaqueno man who offered to help us carry it in. With his help we were able to get our new sofa in the door in no time at all.

Then he came inside, had a class of water and chatted with us and all I thought was, hmmm... maybe he's staking out our place to see what he can steal.

I finally stopped, paused, and took a moment outside of my accusatory thoughts and realized how distrusting I've become. I automatically thought the worse in these strangers when really, they were showing their best. I felt momentarily ashamed that I'd been so judgemental. I'm not saying I should let my guard down, DC is a city with problems after all, but I think I learned my lesson. Sometimes a kind gesture is nothing more than that...

No More Tequila's.

I read a status update on Facebook yesterday that said she was desperately craving social activities that didn't surround alcohol. I could feel her frustration and definitely sympathize because I've been there on more than one occasion. It seems as though at our age everything we do surrounds drinking. Dinner... and wine. Sports.... and beer. Dancing... and shots. Movies.... and whiskey. I realize that last one might just be me but in general, you get the point.

My friends in DC can attest to two things- one that I am now a lightweight and two, that I hardly go out anymore. The reason being that as a lightweight, I can't handle crazy nights of drinking that make me useless the next day when I have so much to do/study. And 80 to 90% of what my friends do surrounds crazy nights of drinking.

Don't get me wrong- I still love a crazy night out. Bottles of champagne, whiskey filled drinks, and shots of Jagger still warm my heart (and my stomach and my head...).

But I'm always looking for something else. I found a few things that don't require drinking- like marathons and salsa dancing, but they're few and far between.

So for Lent, I'm toying with the idea of giving up alcohol. No, not just hard liquor like last time (that conveniently left me a loop hole that allowed me to drink beer), but all of it. I keep telling my bf it might be kind of hard- Lent falls during my first visit to the bay (and therefore my first visit to my friends- which usually involves copious amounts of drinks and bottles of wine), my spring break (which will be spent on the beautiful beaches of Oaxaca with my boyfriend and a rowdy bunch of spring breakers), and the occasional bday and dinner party.

Even more reason I should challenge myself and give up Jose, Jack, and John for Lent. It will be hard and I'm still not sure I can (or will) do it, but I think it might be more important for me to try and fail (or succeed!) than to not even give it a shot- the failure might lie in not trying at all. I have until Feb. 6th to decide and in the meantime, I'll think about it while I celebrate my last day of work over margaritas and nachos.

Pubs- or so I thought

As you may or may not know, I am on a quest to find a job in the microfinance industry. Or so I think today. Needless to say, that search led me to a great organization that I wanted to share with all of you. Kiva.org is a microlending institution that takes lending out of the hands of banks and into the hands of everyday common people like us. Now, I know what you are thinking, what IS microlending?

Microfinance institutions operate under the idea that most of the worlds poor people- if given the opportunity- could alleviate their own poverty through their entrepreneurial skills. These organizations, therefore, lend money to various groups of people all over the world- sometimes $50, sometimes $500- to populations that wouldn't otherwise have access to capital. Studies have found that the repayment rate for these types of loans is about 98%, far higher than the repayment rate of the average person (that would be you and I).

Back to Kiva. They allow you to pick a person or a group in any region and loan them money directly (well, through their website, you're not going to fly out to Zaire to give anyone money). I decided to loan $25 to this particular group of five women in Uganda. http://www.kiva.org/app.php?page=businesses&action=about&id=32644

I did that because their main activity read "Pub" and I thought it was awesome that they were opening a pub. Upon closer inspection, I don't actually think that's what they are doing but nonetheless, with a few clicks, I just donated $25 to five women in Uganda. I quickly and easily became a part of microfinance industry that works solely to alleviate poverty in the world. I have to admit, helping five women in Uganda run a business from my warm chair in DC is pretty amazing. Having just quit my job I'm not one to throw around money, but $25 is such a small effort on my part that I had to do it. I hope you find this as exciting as I do and lend out a bit of cash and become part of the microfinance movement that strives to end poverty.

On Being Mexican, Part II

My first trip to Mexico came and went and now, I'm sitting in front of my computer in 40 degree weather as though I never left for a vacation. The only visible sign of my trip is the tan I gained while climbing pyramids and sitting in zocolo's for hours on end. But of course, this trip was much more than just a vacation for me. Sure, I enjoyed lazy afternoons with cold beers, sleeping in curled up, and lots of great food, but to me, going to Mexico was about going home, rekindling old familial relationships, and figuring out where I came from.



My bf asked me if I was having some sort of huge epiphany and eye opening experiences while I was there. At first I thought I was. I thought I was realizing that I am indeed Mexican and that I "found myself" (whatever that means). But once I got home and thought about it some more, I realized that I'd been found this entire time. I was right to think I had lost my Mexican side. I did. I am American. Perhaps not born. But definitely raised. I have American values, American perspectives, and I love living in the States. What I was looking for- some sort of cultural identity- was in front of me my entire life and I just didn't see it.

But now everything seems clear to me. I am an American raised woman. What I did learn, however, is that there is no reason that I have to be this particular identity for the rest of my life. I thought the world of cultural identity was exclusive- you have to be one or the other. Yes, I am American but now I can start learning more about my culture, the people and traditions of Mexico, and the delicious food that makes up their culinary world. (I couldn't write a blog without mentioning Mexican food).

I promise myself to return to Mexico very soon. I will never lose sight of the fact that I am American but perhaps slowly I can learn what it means to be Mexican and learn to compliment my American self with the great values and traditions of the Mexican culture. There is no reason I have to be one or the other and I know that now.