HEY Y’ALL.  I haven’t posted a blog in ages (one week) so it’s time to update you on my aventuras latinoamericanas.  Thank goodness I have pictures—you’d seriously think I was a pathological liar if I just wrote what happened without any proof.

On Thursday our Reporting Buenos Aires class went to El Centro Cultural Borges for the Steve McCurry exhibit.  Unless you’re a rabid photojournalism fan, you probably have no clue who that is.  You miiiiiiight know one of his most famous works: 

His pictures were PHENOMENAL.  It’s insane because most of his pictures were taken with classic film cameras, so I was just floored at his talent.  Now more than ever when I see people with really expensive SLR cameras I want to chin-check them (I may or may not suffer from rage blackouts) because chances are that they’ll never use that camera to its full potential and only take annoying pictures to compulsively add to facebook.

People admiring McCurry’s work:

SO COOL I CAN’T HANDLE IT:

He probably went to Emerson:

I feel like my mom is really going to appreciate this one:

And then I was a little TOO eager to meet Steve (It’s cool, we’re on a first name basis now):

There was food served during the event and I WISH I had a picture or video of what a animalistic mess it was.  The servers were more or less attacked as they walked out of the kitchen and they would have to hold the trays as high as they could to make it through the exhibit.  While everyone was complaining that they didn’t get any mini-pizzas, I was pulling some SERIOUS Aladdin moves and ended up getting five mini-pizzas.  Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat, tell ya all about it when I got the time!

Phoebe and I explored some more and as soon as I took this picture I had no choice but to repeatedly sing, “The stars at night are big and bright (clap clap clap clap) DEEP IN THE HEAAAAAARRRRTTTT OF TEXAS!”  Phoebe is from Dallas so whenever talk of her home state comes up I end up verbally harassing her and yelling things like, “Y’all come back now, ya hear!” or other deeply annoying things that I consider Southern.  Thanks for accepting my inner-freak, Phoebe!


Then Kyla and I befriended some Drag Queens.  I ended up chatting with the one on the right and he told me that his name is Felipe by day and Pupe by night.  He’s Chilean and he said he knew what it was like being in a new city and that if I needed anything to call him.  AND he invited me to one of his drag shows!  I’m going to write my journalism profile on him and I’m so excited!

After this we headed down to Puerto Madero so we could get on the Buqebus.  The Buqebus is probably the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.  It’s the ferry that goes from Buenos Aires to Uruguay, and when I said ferry, I mean it’s like the freaking Titanic.  I was half expecting a sailing boat with a drunk captain named Pepito so needless to say, I was impressed.  A bunch of us stayed on the deck and drank and were merry and nautical.  Three hours later we arrived in Colonia and then took our bus to Punta Del Este.  

OMFG punT@ d3l 3$te 2010!!1!!!! I had to get that out of my system. Punta del Este was beautiful! The beaches were lovely, the waves were huge, the weather was perfect, and we are all extremely tan now.  


Phoebe and I became obsessed with the fish and chips as well as the helado.  OH MY GOD, THE HELADO.  For all you gringos reading, helado is ice cream.  I’m basically in a relationship with helado.  Especially dulce de leche helado.  I feel like Phoebe, Arielle, and I ate a cone every hour on the hour in Punta Del Este.  I’m getting a little concerned over my love for dulce de leche.  Is it bad that I’m currently eating it out of a container right now?  My mom is probably having a heart attack as she reads this because she specifically told me not to gain weight while in Argentina.  Oh well, “que será, será” which I am interpreting as, “Layla, it’s perfectly fine to spoon feed yourself dulce de leche in bed at 2 a.m.”

Since the majority of college students are functioning alcoholics, we parked ourselves near the bar on the beach each day.  I ordered a piña colada which ended up just being straight rum and since I am the lightest light weight in the history of drinking, I fell asleep 10 minutes after finishing my drink.  Super duper.  

Also, it turns out that burying your friends in the sand is definitely, DEFINITELY something only people from the U.S. do.  The Uruguayans were kind of confused when this happened:


And this:


Another really important subject that I need to address is how difficult it is to find a bathing suit in Argentina.  Not because there aren’t any.  Oh, no.  It’s difficult to find a bathing suit because they are all THONGS and made with minimal material.  It’s the closest a person can get to being in the nude in public without actually being in the nude.  They’re not exactly made to withstand the impact of waves either.  


Our first night there was Carnaval.  LOCO.  There were drumlines and half-naked people wearing body glitter and feathers dancing all over the place.  A Carnaval custom in South America is foaming people.  Arielle, Phoebe and I  bought a can of foam and proceeded into an epic foam fight.  It was really funny because if anyone tried to hit on us or cat-call, we would foam them in the face.  I’m thinking of carrying a can of foam around with me in Buenos Aires.  It’s the new mace.

It’s easy to fit in here.  Just throw on a brightly colored thong and drench yourself in body glitter and you’re set!

We pwn’d them:

Early that morning was the massive earthquake in Chile so when I found out I thought, “Oh, crap! I bet my parents and friends who love me so much are worried sick, I should check my email and facebook to let them know that I’m alright!”  So I guess Mike and Kiarash are my only two friends because they were the only ones who asked if I was alive!  Not even my parents emailed me!  I checked again on Sunday to see if anyone cared that I could have possibly been dead under a building or had a nub for an arm and a few people had asked, but I’m glad that my friends and parents care so much that it takes them MORE THAN 24 HOURS TO SEE IF I’M ALIVE AFTER AN EARTHQUAKE.  You are all on friendship/parental probation for eternity.  

Despite the fact that I was unloved by my “friends” and “parents”, I had a great time in Punta Del Este.  It was one of the most fun weekends I’ve ever had.  I feel bad because at first I was a little apprehensive to go on a trip with so many NYU kids because I thought we would end up just hanging out with each other and blah blah blah I’m negative blah blah blah but I’m so glad I went.  It really allowed us to cement our existing friendships and branch out and make new friends.  We even became friends with some Uruguayans!  It was Kyla’s second weekend there and she introduced us to her bartender latin lover, Martin, who has the revolting eyes I’ve ever seen:

This semester is shaping up to be one of the best times of my life.