A few of my favorite things

I miss certain things about home. Food, family, friends. This is obvious. BUT, just because I have daydreams about Cook Out burgers and Neomonde and Krispy Kreme Donuts, doesn’t mean there aren’t things here that I don’t love. There are certain things that ABSOLUTELY make my day, and lucky for me, they happen often here.

1. Exact change for the bus. A bus ride (practically any bus in the city) is 18 pesos. Pesos come in denominations of 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 50, 100 and so forth. Although 20 pesos is about one dollar, handing a bus driver a 100 peso bill almost always results in a groan for having to make change for such a big denomination. So, whenever I have exactly 18 pesos, I get SUPER excited because a) I won’t be given the evil eye by the bus driver and b) I don’t have to look like a moron as I try to simultaneously watch my balance and put away my change as I walk to the back of the bus.

18 pesos of bliss

2. The sun. Mondays and Tuesdays I am at my bus stop by 7:20 am. In the teaching world, this is not early. When it’s 40 degrees, windy and dark outside (remember it’s winter here), it’s really flippin’ early. Having the wind cut through my clothes as I pick crust out of my eyes and count my change for bus fare is not how I like to start my day. There is one bright spot in being at the bus stop this early: the sunrise. Every Monday and Tuesday morning I watch the sunrise over Rio de la Plata. The way the reds, oranges, and purples in the sky blend from the morning clouds down towards the water and flicker across it is breathtaking. For a brief moment, I forget that I’m tired, cold, and without an appropriate amount of caffeine, and just enjoy my morning.

3. THE bus stop. While we’re on the topic of buses, there is a bus stop exactly 23 paces from my apartment building (I know, I counted). I consider it a good day if the bus line I am riding drops me off at this bus stop instead of the one two blocks away. Call me lazy. I don’t care. BUT, after riding 40 minutes on a crowded bus, standing cheek to cheek with my fellow (and sometimes stinky) Montevideoans, it’s a nice treat to walk 30 meters to my apartment rather than having to do a dance with death as I cross the busy Avenida Brasil. I love you, corner of Juan Benito Blanco and Jose Marti, and how your convenient location contributes to my laziness.

mere steps from my door

4. Miguel. Days when I have exact bus fare, watch the sunrise and get dropped off almost curbside to my apartment are good days. Solid days, in fact. No complaints. But a truly lucky day is when I get home from work and Miguel opens the door to my apartment building. Miguel is one of the doormen that work in my building. He typically works the afternoon shift, and is an absolute encanto. Now, things weren’t always so peachy with Miguel and I. When I first met him, I didn’t understand a word he said. This was probably because of his accent and more so because of my sucky Spanish, but for the first few weeks I lived here, I dreaded having to ask him for anything because I knew I wouldn’t understand his response (even though he was delightfully patient with my repeated questioning). Prime example of a Miguel misunderstanding: one of the first cool nights here, the 3 of us were going out to eat. As we walked out the front door, Miguel bid us good-bye and said “Abrigos en pie!” HUH? This literally translates as “Jackets on foot!” What did he mean by this? Jackets on a walk? Jackets en route? Jackets on the town? I had no clue; it was probably some expression to which we were oblivious. A few days later, we asked a friend what this phrase meant. After she laughed at us, she said, “It’s not ‘Abrigos en pie’, it’s ‘Abrigense bien’! hahahahaha!” Translation: Bundle up! Wow, my Spanish sucks. But, ever since this misunderstanding, I’ve come to appreciate Miguel more and more. When he sees me walking down the street toward the building, he pushes the elevator button, holds the elevator for me, and greets me with a vibrant (and sometimes deafening) “HOLA! ¿Como andas?!!” Miguel, what a guy.

5.T-shirt time. When constantly surrounded by foreign stimuli, it’s nice to have some normalcy. Everyday I try to make sense of a completely foreign world. A world that until 2.5 months ago, I had no clue how it functioned. It can be exhausting. Every Sunday night, at 7pm, I have my taste of normalcy with syndicated episodes of Jersey Shore. The episodes are from last season, and I am a bit ashamed that it’s Jersey Shore that makes me feel at home again, but I fully enjoy every minute of Ronnie and Sammi Sweetheart’s nonsensical, backwards, toxic arguments. So thanks MTV for broadcasting your trash programing to Latin America. For an hour each Sunday night, because of you, I can watch Snookie’s drunken antics and feel that all is right with the universe.

6. Eu Sou Mèdico. I’m taking Portuguese classes because I like to be misunderstood in as many languages as possible. Why speak one language horribly when I can do it in three? But really, in truth, I’ve been legitimately wanting to learn Portuguese for at least 2 years now. I’ve bought a book, which is worthless because I’ve never read it. I have a bootleg copy of Rosette Stone, which actually does work, but I haven’t been disciplined enough make it worth while. So, since I am the closest I will ever be to a Portuguese-speaking country, I decided to take advantage of my location and flexible schedule. Monday and Wednesday nights, 6 other people and I butcher the Portuguese language. Our pronunciation is horrible, it takes us  forever to put together simple sentences, and all I can say with confidence is “Where, sir, are you from?” It’s pretty bleak. There are some key aspects, however, that I LOVE about my Portuguese class. a) No one has asked me where I’m from. All day, everyday people ask me where I’m from and why I’m here. I’m happy to answer them, but for once, for at least 3 hours a week, it’s nice to blend in. Now, I’m sure the people in my class know I’m a foreigner. They aren’t blind or deaf. It is a nice change, however, for people to try to speak Portuguese with me instead of English. b) I love language learning. Being in this class reminded me why I fell in love with the Spanish language. I love learning new words and how to put new phrases together. It’s like piecing together a puzzle and when you finish you are able to communicate to an entirely new population. Plus, Portuguese is extremely similar to Spanish, so practically all the words are the same. c) I LOVE CONJUGATING VERBS. Those who know me, know that this is my one and only talent. I can’t knit or sew or cook well or juggle or breakdance, but if there is a verb, I can conjugate it. In college, in one of my education courses, we had to bring in a talent and teach it to the class. I brought in my 501 Spanish Verbs book and conjugated verbs in the Imperfect tense. I don’t really remember anyone talking to me after that point in the semester, but whatever, I suppose they were just jealous or intimidated 🙂 In one month of Portuguese, I already know 4 different verb tenses. d) The pronunciation of Portuguese is just different enough from Spanish to trip me up. However, I actually enjoy stammering my way through a language. I feel connected in someway to my Spanish and English students. I can feel their pain when they are desperately searching for the  way to express themselves and can’t find it. It’s a nice reminder of how frustrating it can be to learn a language. Even more, I love the multitude of ch-, sh-, and nasal sounds that run rampant through the Portuguese language. It makes the sound romantically sloppy, but coherent all at the same time. My personal favorite phrase to say: Eu sou mèdico, pronounced You soo magico (translation: I am a doctor…..no you’re so magical).

it’s been one month…..we’ll see if it comes through on it’s promise

7. Business cards. I have business cards from Fulbright. Guess I’m a grown up now. I’ve never had a job that warranted a business card nor have ever had the official letterhead to make one. I’ve also never considered myself mature enough to posess business cards. Business cards are for people who want/ need others to contact them. I’ve never wanted/ needed anyone to contact me. Truth be told, I would probably make some business cards, get carried away, and give out all 200 of them in one day to everyone I meet- at Walmart, the grocery store, the bar, Starbucks, my dermotologist. I am obviously not old enough to handle this type of responsibility. Fulbright provided us with business cards to use during our stay. Needless to say, with my lack of maturity, I become a complete nerd and act like a goober anytime I get to hand them out. I get really wide-eyed and start smiling REALLY big (the smile that not only goes ear to ear but all the way down my neck), and at top volume say something like, “Oh wait! I have something for you!!!!” I carry some in my wallet, and I’m not going to lie, I feel like a bad ass everytime I get to whip out my official Fulbright business card to people I meet.

8. Dulce de leche. This sugary concoction makes life worth living. It can brighten my day, lift my mood, cure a migraine, stop the rain, create a rainbow, work a miracle. Basically, when world peace is acheived, they will be eating dulce de leche that day. When they find a cure for AIDS, I’m pretty sure dulce de leche will be involved. When I die and I reach heaven’s gates, if dulce de leche is not on the other side, I am going to have a lot of thinking to do. Dulce de leche is integrated into my day, everday (much to the despair of my hips, butt and abdomen regions). Dulce de leche is made from sugar and milk and is similar to carmel, but more flavorful and far more addicting. It makes every sweet or pastry 349508305834 times better by being in it. Most cookies, pastries, and cakes have dulce de leche in them, but if not, they sell it by the vat at the grocery store. So, in theory, you could just dip any cookie or pastry into a vat of dulce de leche to improve it’s quality (this is a dangerous activity I have yet to partake in). The most dangerous/ addicting dulce de leche item I have tried has been the dulce de leche empanada. Literally, an entire emapanada filled with dulce de leche. Ho.Ly. Cow. Last Saturday I had to work at 2 different liceos from 8 am- 4pm. I REALLY didn’t want to get up early on a weekend, but I told myself that if I got through the day in one piece, I could have a dulce de leche emapanada. It would be my motivating, metaphorical carrot. I finished my day and got my emapanada. Way better than any carrot I’ve ever eaten.

it’s frightening for my waistline that this exists