March 27, 2008
It's easy to blend in Buenos Aires. It has such a big population (around 13 million!) and there are so many European descendants, that without hiking boots and backpacks, no one really takes much notice to us. That is, of course, until we speak. With no formal training in castallano (what Spanish is called here) conversations are sort of a verbal doubles ping pong game. For example, when buying train tickets, after a greeting, I toss out a word. The response is quick and muddled to my ear. Then, Leah says a Spanish word. Now, from a different direction, a new person helpfully responds with a quick phrase. My turn: I accidentally lob an Italian word into the mix. For the next few moments, the four of us take turns staring at each other. Without warning more words fly by and the volley continues for some time. Eventually with English, Spanish, French, Italian, crude drawings and pantomime, consensus is found.
Other than having awkward conversations, we've been doing what we love: walking. Our somewhat random routes take us to little fruit stands, pastry shops, parks, coffee shops, universities, libraries, supermarkets, dog parks, museums and internet places. We roam on broken sidewalks, pass professional dog-walkers, get dripped on by air-conditioners, pass flower vendors and squeeze past huge magazine stalls. And then, at the end of the day, we return to the San Jorge, a comfortable, little family-run hotel in the Palermo district, where we watch dubbed and sub-titled American TV series and movies. The pretense is, of course, to improve our Spanish, but really all this time in front of the set just leaves us bleary-eyed and wondering why television is so bad, why Homer's voice sounds so wrong and why most American TV series are either medical or detective soap-operas.
So in Cordoba, our next stop, we'll just walk around, forgo the hypnotic television experience and use the table tennis method. In the end, it does work and who doesn't like to break the monotony of their day with a game?
