My time in Buenos Aires is done.  I’m not going to make this a sentimental post but I have to say that coming here was the best decision I’ve ever made.  Despite its flaws, I loved every second of it and absolutely fell in love with the city and everything it has to offer.  I’m not saying goodbye to Buenos Aires per se—it’s just an extended “mini-pausa”.  I’ll be back so soon and then I’ll be back permanently.

I’ve met the greatest people during my stay here—best friends who I am constantly going to be harassing (I mean visiting) in New York and the best host mom there ever was.  Ya les extraño un montón.  

Thanks to everyone who read my blog!  It was so wonderful to have random people that I didn’t talk to or hang out with tell me that they loved it and found it hilarious.  Special shoutout to my faithful readers Mom/Dad, Phoebe, Arielle, Lavinia, and MonaMaryam.  If I’m forgetting anyone, well, that sucks.   

Now I’m leaving to enjoy my last few hours of the city that I love.  And for my last post I decided to make a little video summing up my stay here.  



Nos vemos pronto, Buenos Aires.  Te quiero.  

I’m going to be really gross and just post pictures with anecdotes because let’s be real—NO TENGO TIEMPO PARA BLOGGEAR (real verb).

A bunch of us went to an Onda Vaga concert a few weekends ago.  I LOVE them.  They’re indie rock with a Latin twist.  And since it’s Argentina—and everyone knows everyone in Argentina—we have an actual connection to the band.  Pedro, our student activities advisor, plays guitar with them sometimes.  PEDRO, INCLUDE ME INTO YOUR SECRET LIFE THIS INSTANT.  
 

In between eating alfajores caseros and empanadas, drinking mucho vino, and waiting for Onda Vaga to get on stage, this guy danced to cumbia.  Dále:
 

During my latest excursion to a parrilla, I ordered bife de chorizo and was certainly not expecting to receive the thickest piece of steak of my entire life.  It was pretty daunting and at times I didn’t think I could finish it, but I thought, “They don’t call me Parillayla for NOTHING!” (They don’t but I think they should start) and grabbed some chimichurri and finished it.  
 

Last Thursday Rachel, Arielle, Phoebe and I went to my host mom’s art exposition.  As you can see, Cristina is a cat lover just like me.  Ella me hace muy bien.  
 

SORRY THAT YOUR HOST MOM ISN’T THE BEST LIKE MINE!  I love Cristina so much, it’s ridiculous how much I am going to miss her.  
 

A few months ago, my creative writing professor, Anna, was telling my class about how we should go to an exhibition at an art gallery because it was very cool, etc.  That certain gallery turned out to be MARIANO’S gallery.  After Cristina’s art show, we made our way to miaumiau and we were all a little afraid that Mariano would be angry at us for showing up and ruining his art scene cred, but he was actually super nice and only minimally sassy.  Success!   The gallery was incredibly cool, too.  It’s all contemporary art by young artists and this exhibition in specific was called “Escultura Nueva” so we had the chance to see some very unique pieces.

miaumiau givin’ you a little view of Palermo:
 

Barbárbo, ¿no? 

This sculpture was my favorite.  It was multi-sided polygon sculpture hundreds of mirrors inside which gave it this very cool kaleidoscope effect:


This is what one sees going up the stairs to enter the gallery.  I wouldn’t expect anything less from the man who co-wrote the South American edition of the Gay Encyclopedia.  What a sweet dream (and a beautiful nightmare):
 

After our miaumiau adventure, we made our way to the End of the Year Quilombo—I mean party.  It was open bar which meant that everyone was out of their mind drunk within 30 minutes.  The fiesta was pretty fun because towards the end of the night it was basically a huge dance party.  And there was dessert, so obviously Emma and I were content.


 
Oh yeah, I also got to take two pictures with Mariano.  As Gob once said on Arrested Development, “It was utterly macabre.”:

 
NOS VEMOS.   

I HAVE NO TIME/GANAS TO BLOG BECAUSE THE CRUSHING WEIGHT OF MY FINALS CAN NO LONGER BE AVOIDED.  But the story of Iguazú must be told, I can’t let my faithful readers down (Mom/Dad, Phoebe, AND ARIELLE)….

A few weeks ago, NYU took us on an all-expense paid trip to Iguazú and it was the first time NYU paid for anything in their entire capitalist, money-hungry existence (shout-out to Private American Universities, obvio).  Anyway, in order to get to Iguazú, we had to take a 17 hour bus ride.  It makes me want to bash my head into a wall because I can actually say that 17 hours is not that long.  NO, ARGENTINA, BAD, BAD, BAD.  Anyway, everyone was drunk on the bus.  Because that’s the smartest idea ever.  

We arrived in the morning and headed towards Jesuit Ruins.  I really enjoyed them, but unfortunately our tour guide neglected to mention the fact that the Europeans brought over disease and imposed their lifestyle on the indigenous people and only told us about the “benefits” of the Spanish conquest.  ”They brought religion to the HEATHEN Indians, long live Jesus!  Alfajor?”  Verbatim.  



After this, we went to an Estancia for an asado and frolicking through the Argentine forests.  I was still reading Las Venas Abiertas de América Latina for Sassiano’s class at that point, but .5 seconds into reading, I fell asleep.  Así es la vida.  Arielle can relate…

I can almost HEAR her saying, “Private scrapbook, Layla, PRIVATE SCRAPBOOK!  Graaarrrrummmmp!”:
 

I decided to go on a walk and seeing as how I am the animal whisperer, I became friends with two dogs and they followed me everywhere for the rest of the time.  I would stop walking and they’d trot back to where I was and wait for me.  YES, MY ANIMAL FRIENDS. The scenery was RE-lindo and it was really nice to be able to walk around for a bit and not be in danger of being hit by a colectivo.  

The Grim!  If Harry Potter were real, I’d be dead by now considering the amount of black dogs I’ve seen since lurking in the wildlife.  But since we all know that Harry Potter IS real…I’d like to take this opportunity to tell everyone that I love my cat and hate you all.  Goodbye (Espero que NO).
  

Anyway, we finally made it to our hotel.  Arielle and I were roommates and decided that this trip was basically the honeymoon we could never afford.  Thanks, NYU, you saved our marriage (where am I going with this?  A ver…)  We went to bed early because the next day we were going TO THE FALLS.  

Okay, the falls…there are really no words to describe them.  Pictures honestly do not do them any justice.  You just have to be present and be absolutely frightened and amazed at the same time.  This girl in my creative writing class said that the falls are, “so absolutely mind-blowing, so existential, that words like amazing seem trite.”  You go, girl.    

In order to get to La Garganta del Diablo (the devil’s throat/the main waterfall), you had to cross a TERRIFYING series of bridges that were super slippery with rushing water underneath them and yeah…thought I was about to die on 284 different occasions.

But I made it!


Throughout the day we also saw a bunch of animals, because in case you didn’t know, WE WERE IN THE RAINFOREST.  Also, we were really lucky because it had just rained and therefore all the animals were frolicking around.

These little creatures were roaming everywhere and I thought they were adorable until I saw one STEAL A PACKET OF MAYONNAISE, SHREAD IT APART, AND LICK EVERY LAST DROP OUT.  I can’t love anything that loves mayonnaise that much.  I just can’t.
 

There were Toucans!


And most importantly, MONKEYS.  Everyone went bananas (Get it?) at the sight of them because there was a whole family, probably 12 or so, and the babies were on their moms’ backs. It was adorable!


Next was La Gran Aventura.  Basically, getting into a little raft and GOING UNDER THE FALLS.  It was one of the most fun experience I’ve ever had.  Also, the closest I’ve been to drowning and/or being crushed at the massive pressure of a waterfall, but whatever, POSITIVE THOUGHTS!

Lilly and me before we got soaked:


Just passin’ through, don’t mind us:


Our last stop was a little bridge EXTREMELY close to the bottom of the falls and this was a freaking religious experience.  I felt like Pocahontas, at one with nature and simultaneously being baptized by nature.  When you looked up to see the water falling, it looked like shattering glass and it was one of those moments when the weight of the beauty you’re witnessing is almost too much to bear, but you can’t look away.  I am SO FAR up my own ass, but as pretentious as my aforementioned statement sounds, it’s absolutely true; Iguazú is breathtakingly gorgeous.


Back in our hotels, we were completely wiped out.  We all napped and Arielle and I watched the Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging movie (typical honeymoon activities).  After dinner, everyone was WASTED and was running around screaming and hooking up and it was a quilombo in every sense of the word.  Emma, Arielle, and I stayed in our room the entire time because really, no thanks to all of the above.   

The next day we went to an Guaraní Village—one of the few remaining indigenous groups in Argentina—where we were shown how the people lived, their old hunting traps, etc.  A group of the village children sang a song for us and then things got a little weird.  Our tour guide kept telling us to take pictures with them and it felt so strange because it felt like they were animals and we were just watching them and exploiting them.  I don’t know, it was unsettling.  I played catch with one of the little boys and talked to some of the other kids, but I was definitely not okay with the “Hey, let’s treat them like a show!  Alfajor?” aspect of it all.  

Teaching Morgan the secrets of the rain forest:
 

Aww:


After a quick trip to Las Tres Fronteras (the meeting point between Argentina, Brasil, and Paraguay), we were one plane ride away from home!  

Argentina’s in the middle because it’s the most important…and the best…:


Now back to writing stupid papers.   

One thing very distinct about Buenos Aires is that there is no government-form of recycling and instead there are people called Cartoneros who collect the cardboard that people leave on street corners and sell it for money.  Eloisa Cartonera is a company that buys the cardboard for a lot of money in order to make cheap books to give to children in impoverished neighborhoods.  Arielle, Phoebe, Rachel, and I thought that this concept was really cool, so today we took a long colectivo ride into La Boca, the poorest and most dangerous neighborhood in Buenos Aires, to go check out Eloisa Cartonera for ourselves.



We came in and talked with the workers for a bit and scoped through an amazing collection of Latin American literature.  We decided which books we wanted and then sat down and began painting our book covers.  Who knew painting cardboard could be so fun?  

I love this picture.  Arielle is an artistic soul who is staying in Buenos Aires until November to study Literature at La UBA because her parents love her and want her to be happy (unlike my “parents” who are forcing me to come home.  ”Mom” and “Dad”, I’m taking a vow of silence and ignoring you two the moment I land in LAX and I will not speak a single word to you all summer.  I’M NOT KIDDING.)  I’m convinced that she’s never going to leave Buenos Aires, and just meet un chico inteligente en la facultdad and by this time next year we will all be invited to her Porteño WEDDING.   
 

I bought three books: Salón de Belleza by Mario Bellatin, El atravesado by Andrés Caicedo, and Las Batallas en el desierto by José Emilio Pacheco.  For five pesos each.  I can spend around $4 USD and help impoverished children receive books?  Can I get a dáleeeee?

I painted my copy of Salón de Belleza and I was going for the “Under the Sea: Remix” theme, even though it has absolutely NOTHING to do with the novel.  The workers were all making fun of me, saying things like, “Oh, yeah, there are SO MANY fish in that novel!” and I was like, “Hmm, the Peruvian philosopher Immortal Technique once said, ‘Talkin’ shit will get your neck-bone disconnected’ so don’t MAKE me choke a bitch for making fun of my drawing!” 

I feel like the menacing octopus and the sinister electric eel give the viewer the an authentic view of the dangers of consumerism—represented as underwater life—while the crab and the fish illustrate the polar spectrums of consciousness and oblivion.  I consider it to be my magnum opus.
I 

Alejandro, our new Chilean friend who works at Eloisa Cartonera, told us that they also make dolls that they give out.  What else were we supposed to do besides have an impromptu photo-shoot?

Rachel will be waiting for you under your bed at night:


Meanwhile, I will come for your first born (and your soul):

 
Phoebe is sad that her friends are insane mental hospital escapees:
 

ALEJANDRO!  
 

All of us with the workers.  I want the man in the back smokin’ his cigarillo to be my mentor in life:


I unfortunately left my Dead Weather water canteen at Eloisa Cartonera so I feel like I’m missing an arm because that water canteen is like my CHILD and I take it everywhere with me.  TE EXTRAÑO, WATER CANTEEN, I HOPE I CAN FIND YOU!  I’m likely to die of thirst now because I’m too cheap to pay for water bottles.  I’ll just have to dance the pain away by listening to Kylie Minogue and getting in touch with my inner gay man.  This weekend is the Bicentenario, the 200 year anniversary of independence from España.  I’m going to an Onda Vaga concert and classes are cancelled until next Wednesday because the entire country will be festejar-ing and Buenos Aires will most likely be too drunk to function.  Can’t wait!    

As much as I constantly gush about how Argentina is the best country on earth, the fact of the matter is that this country has a very dirty and harrowing recent political history.  Back in 1976, there was a Coup d’état that gave power to Jorge Videla, head of the Argentine military.  The new government then set out to rid the country of “subversives”, which included students, activists, journalists—basically anyone who questioned their authority.  These people were kidnapped from their homes, from work, and even in the middle of a public setting and that would be the last time anyone ever heard from them.  Many were taken to La ESMA (Escuela de Mechanica de la Armada), a clandestine center of torture, which had previously served as a school for the military.  It’s awful because it’s not like La ESMA is in the middle of nowhere; it’s in Buenos Aires and people lived, worked, and walked around it all the time with no idea what was going on inside. 

 

Most of the people kidnapped had never even participated in any sort of subversive activity and were only deemed guilty because they knew someone involved in such activities.  Many of the prisoners were then told they were being transferred to another location, only to be drugged, put on a airplane, and then thrown out of said airplane while it flew over the Río de la Plata where they drowned.  They called them “Vuelos  de la Muerte,” a.k.a. Death Flights, aptly named, don’t you think?  What, what, what, what, WHAT???  These people were referred to as “Los Desaparecidos” (the disappeared) because Videla once said during an interview that, “Ni son vivos, ni muertos.  Son desaparecidos” (They’re neither dead or alive.  They’re disappeared.)  I WANT TO PUNCH SOMETHING.

A lot of the female desaparecidos were pregnant while they were kidnapped, which brings me to one of the most atrocious parts of La Guerra Sucia.  The women were allowed to give birth to their children before they were murdered, and the babies went to military families and friends of the military through illegal adoptions.  Basically, the stepfather could very well be the same person who had tortured and killed the baby’s parents.  Right now it estimated that there are 500 hijos de los desaparecidos, and only around 105 of them have been found through the efforts of Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo. 

During this time, the mothers and grandmothers of the disappeared would march around Plaza de Mayo with pictures of their missing children and still march every Thursday afternoon hoping that one day they’ll know what happened to their sons and daughters.

Then:


Now:


This cruel government continued until 1983 and according to human rights organizations, approximately 30,000 people disappeared during those years. 

I’m really lucky because since I’ve been in Buenos Aires, I’ve had the opportunity to go to a ton of political protests, listened to President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner give a speech, and actually had the chance to meet a survivor of La ESMA.  On 24 March we didn’t have classes because it was a memorial day remembering the day the Military Junta came to power.  There was a huge protest at Plaza de Mayo, but NYU said it would be too dangerous for a foreigner to go because things could get violent.  I was like, “Don’t EVER tell me how to live my life, NYU, you hungry, capitalist machine of injustice!” so I went and it was incredible.  There were THOUSANDS of people marching and protesting, the Madres were there with signs with pictures of their missing children, people were drumming and running all over the plaza, and the excitement was tangible.  It was easily one of the best experiences in Buenos Aires and my entire life.  

24 March protests:
 

“Press conferences are doing a number on my hair,” said President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner.


Here’s Munú, a survivor of La ESMA.  She told of off all the torture she had experienced during her eight months as a captive.  Not only did she suffer physical torture such as electrocutions, simulated drowning, and being hooded for days at a time, she suffered horrifying psychological torture as well.  The military would grab people unsuspectedly and shove them in a car so that they thought they were going to be killed, only to be taken out to dinner.  Munú said this was the absolute worst because it was almost like they could see the city and see everyone living their lives and it was almost like being free, but it only lasted for a few hours before they were sent back into La ESMA.  



Whoa.  How many people studying abroad in other countries can say they’ve done anything remotely similar to stuff like this?  Oh wait, they can’t.  VIVA BUENOS AIRES.

AND HE SAID THAT HE WOULD TAKE THEM TO A GAY CLUB?  DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?  DO YOU?  BECAUSE I DO.  BECAUSE IT HAPPENED TODAY.  20 MINUTES AGO.  AND WE ALL DIED LAUGHING.  

God, my Mítos class is nonstop hilarity everyday.  I really hope that they go.  Arielle and I are very jealous that we aren’t men and thus not allowed to go out on “Boys’ Gay Night Out Para Romper La Ciudad” and we don’t get to see Mariano dance his little Porteño heart out to Kylie Minogue and Lady Gaga.  

Mariano also said that Morgan’s outfit was “bastante gay” which made day, my life—basically I’m one step closer to self-actualization.  Thank you, Maslow.
———————————
The rest of today went fantastically.  I watched Glee and Kaarin surprised me with an alfajor!  Her host mom had given it to her for dessert last night, but apparently after nearly four months of feeding her, she still doesn’t know that Kaarin only eats once a week, and when she does, it’s either an avocado, a banana, or a cheese sandwich (shoutout to nearly EVERY meal we had during spring break).  I was planning on taking a nap after Creative Writing when Rachel and Arielle told me that they were going to the MALBA and that I was coming with them.  Así es la vida.

I feel like I live in the MALBA since I’ve visited so many times, especially last week with the Brasilian film exposition. I’m not complaining, though, it’s my favorite museum; it’s in such a beautiful part of Palermo—filled with trees and only a 25 minute walk from my house.  The museum is a mix of Latin American and modern art, so you’re likely to find a Frida Kahlo painting next to a sculpture of a crocodile devouring a woman.  



Another piece that I really like is a series of photographs of a man being shot.  Each photograph shows him in a different angle and position, but the coolest part is that the actual frame and photograph were shot at by an actual gun.  If you get up to the photograph you can see the bullet holes.


 
Rachel and I had to take a cab back to school to make it on time to Cinema class, and of course we ended up with the PR Representative for Uruguay as our cab driver.  He kept telling us how Uruguay had the best culture in South America and that we absolutely HAD to visit Punta del Diablo and this place called Las Aguas Dulces.  We told him that we had been to Punta del Este back in February and that I’d gone to Colonia a few weeks ago and he nearly had a stroke, he was THAT excited.  There was so much traffic that we just got out 7 or 8 blocks before school and made it to class 20 minutes late.  Not that it mattered because everything is on Argentine Central Time which means that showing up anywhere from 15-20 minutes late for a class is completely acceptable.  Dáleeeeee.  

We also had two speakers come to the Academic Center today, one being a very famous literature professor at La UBA.  They talked a lot about language and translations and brought up some really interesting points.  They said how even if you have an excellent translation of a book, it’s almost like it’s a brand new novel because some things simply don’t translate between languages.  The woman brought up an example from Romeo & Juliet and how Juliet’s line “You kiss by the book” can mean that Romeo kisses traditionally and it’s asi-asi, or that he is a muy buena besador, yet still follows all the rules.  That line translates to “Besas como entendido,” which means “You kiss like you understand,” basically showing how even the simplest of sentences can’t always be translated word for word.  

The professor from La UBA, Ariel, was HILARIOUS.  He was a flamboyant gay man who told us how he translated a French Nobel Prize Winner’s work from French to Spanish…even though he barely spoke French.  He said that he really needed the money so he pretended like he knew what he was doing, and when he turned in the translation is was so wrong that they didn’t even know how to correct it.  Then he told us who to talk to if we wanted drugs and how he loves hitting on men in New York because it freaks them out since they’re not used to the Aggressive Argentine way.  

Okay, my host mom just came home drunk yelling “¡Tomé mucho vino y champagne!  ¡Todo rico!  ¡Va a llover mañana!  ¡Un beso, querida!” so THAT’S my cue to go.  Chau! 

NYU needs to stop with this whole “finals” and “papers” nonsense they’ve started up.  Here’s my version of apocalypse in university form:

1. Eight page paper about the culture of death in Latin America and how it differs from country to country for Mítos 
2. Article about Bolivian Immigrant communities in Buenos Aires
3. Creative writing portfolio
4. Feature profile for journalism
5.  Eight page paper on a topic of my choice for Contemporary Argentine Cinema. This should be interesting since I stopped watching the required movies after midterms.  Maybe I can writing on the correlation between me not caring anymore and my grade and how it affects contemporary film makers?

Everyone jokes around how we’re still on U.S. school time and since almost everyone is done with their semester, we’ve all mentally checked out.  

Take a look at my notes from journalism as proof:
 

I take the notes of an idiotic 13 year old girl (possibly with headgear) suffering from ADD. 

A lot of my friends are taking the Borges Literature class, and yesterday they read a Cortázar piece from his book Rayuela.  The piece had a few made up words because it was about having sex, and apparently when you have sex you make up another language, but WHATEVER, I sadly know nothing of these things. 

Here’s part of the piece they read:


The best part is that the professor made them all write out what their climaxes would be in Castellano.  The following Facebook chat should give you a clue on how that went:



And that’s what I like to call a perfect harmony of hilarity and FUERA DE CONTROL-ness. 

Today our journalism class had a screening of the movie Paco and then Diego Rafecas, the director of the film, came to speak to us.  He was unintentionally hilarious and spoke about quantum physics and power of intention which I have recently come to love, thanks to my best friend Alex who is OBSESSED with the concept (and rightly so because it works!).  Not to mention that he was RE-LINDO (a.k.a. HAWT) and had grey hair.  I love silver foxes, why is everyone hotter once they’re 30 or above?

MIAU:


Last Friday, Phoebe, Kaarin, and I went to hang out with our friend Juan.5 (.5 because everyone here is named Juan and we had to start giving them numbers to distinguish who was who) and some of his friends from UBA.  I love whenever I can actually sit and chat with Porteños!  .5 y amigos taught us some very useful lingo that I am sure everyone at Emerson will love because it directly applies to 90% of the student population.

Lunfardo for Dummies:
-Porro/faso: joint
-Tuca: roach
-Ortiva: buzzkill (this doesn’t directly apply to Emerson PARA NADA, it’s just a useful word to know)

Now off to do un MONTÓN de tara, but before I go, I’ll leave you with this song that’s been stuck in my head for days.  It’s making me want to quit school and become a Spicy Latina who spends her days backup dancing and playing lookout for her novio, Guillermo, the most notorious drug-trafficker in all of Buenos Aires.  You’ve been warned.