This past weekend was absolutely non-stop, jam-packed, cray cray action.  I don’t think I slept PARA NADA, which is perfect because I have no time to sleep since I want to do everything humanly possible before being dragged away from the loves of my life (Buenos Aires, Argentina, and South America…and alfajors, OBVIO).  

Friday a.k.a. That Time We Went to a Art Exposition with Mariano:

Mariano has two classes—La Lengua and Mítos—and all the kids in the Mítos class were feeling a little unloved because he took La Lengua to a play and had an editor of Rolling Stone Argentina as a guest speaker and his “fun activity” for our class was going to the ESMA.  The ESMA is a clandestine torture center.  HOW CAN HE EXPECT ME TO CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT?  We told him how we were feeling like the unloved child locked in cupboard under the stairs (I’ll love you forever Harry Potter!) while La Lengua was the shining child that he wanted to show off to all his friends.  He said that this wasn’t the case and then last week he told us that we would be going to Daniel Santoro’s art exhibition along with La Lengua.

The day of the trip arrived and we were all at school at the crack of dawn (10 AM) and the Almighty Sassy/Sexy One wasn’t there.  Everyone had a mild fit of rage because there would be no way that we would we would be okay with going on a school trip by ourselves while the professor was probably off frolicking through Palermo and writing more encyclopedias about gay culture.  We ended up picking him up on the way to the exhibition because it turned out that he was teaching a class at La UBA (The University of Buenos Aires).  Honestly, what DOESN’T this man do?! 

I liked the exhibit a lot.  The artist took images of Evita and Peronism and combined them with mythological and religious themes and the outcomes were very cool.



 Please note how Mariano’s arm muscles are threatening to tear through his shirt.  Gracias a Pheeb for being such a shameless photographer!  

Evita eating Che’s intestines.  ~*@rG3nT1ne pOliTiKz*~
 

After the exhibition, Mariano took us on a spontaneous, unauthorized adventure and made us promise not to talk about it.  Sorry everyone, I guess you’ll never know lo que pasó.   

Saturday a.k.a. The Day We Went to Uruguay Because Phoebe Was Considered Illegal in Argentina and Had to Flee the Country: 

Last week everyone went to Immigrations to get their Student Visa, but pobrecita Pheeb got screwed over.  We found out that she never got a stamp acknowledging her entrance into Argentina when we came back from Punta Del Este and she was advised to leave the country so that she could get a stamp because she technically didn’t exist in neither Argentina nor Uruguay. To top it all off, not only did she have to pay for transportation to and from Uruguay for the day, she ended up having to pay 300 pesos because of Customs’ mistake.  WOMP.  Emma, Lily, Ben, and I joined her for a day trip in Colonia, Uruguay because, hey, if a country is a comfortable one-hour ferry boat ride away, why NOT go?  We even got entertainment on the way in the form of a discovery channel type documentary about cockroaches eating bats.  It’s exactly what I wanted if we’re being honest. 

This is how early we were awake.  It was worth it.
 

Colonia is the oldest city in Uruguay and it’s very cute, complete with cobblestone roads, beaches, and the like.  Uruguayans are super friendly and as soon as we stated walking a couple and their baby came over to help us find the beach.

LOOK AT THIS BABY IN A PANCHO.  All my children and animals will be dressed exactly like this.  I’m just tryin’ to live the South American dream, y’all:
 


 

We immediately made our way over to the beach to tomar el sol and unleash our inner hippies.  The Uruguayans probably thought we were out of control:  Emma was cavorting around singing, I was acting out scenes from The Little Mermaid, and Phoebe was honking like a penguin.

My favorite little flower child:
 

A little bit later, Lily and I found HANDS DOWN the best tourist couple in existence.  They matched perfectly and constantly looked confused and lost.  I legitimately stalked them for a good 20 minutes.  I could not get over how ridiculous they looked.  I have about 10 pictures of them looking confused and taking pictures of random things, but I think this one is the best because they are SYNCHRONIZED in their walking.  
  

 
The rest of the day was spent climbing trees and frolicking through the little town.
At one point we were walking by a car and we saw that instead of people driving it, there were two giant FISH in the driver and passenger seat.  I feel like that basically sums up South America because half of the time you’re just trying to figure out what in FRESH HELL is going on around you.  Fish driving a buggy es lo normal, OBVIAMENTE.
 
 

Our ferry left at 5:30 and made it back to Buenos Aires right in time for one of the BEST concerts I’ve ever seen.  Caetano Veloso, an extremely famous and talented Brazilian folk singer was playing a concert for free near Plaza Italia and Palermo was PACKED with people.  Veloso was INCREDIBLE.  Imagine a Brazilian Bob Dylan fused together with an older Devendra Banhart and you’ve got it down exactly.  He sang so beautifully, I suggest that everyone immediately download his music, you will not be disappointed.  What was even more astounding was that everyone was completely, dead silent while he was playing.  No one—guys, girls, young people, old people, drunk people, high people, babies, you get the picture—said a single word.  RESPECT: BUENOS AIRES HAS IT. 

Just so you get a feeling of how EVERYONE IN THE CITY was there:

 
Sunday a.k.a. The Day I went to Church In the Slums:

On Sunday I actually did have to wake up at the crack of dawn in order to be at school a 8 AM (Kill me).  My journalism class was going to the Villa 21—also known as Villa Misera—an extremely impoverished slum of the already violent and dangerous barrio of La Boca.  We were going to to Father Pepé, a priest who works with recovering Paco addicts.  Paco is basically the worst thing on the planet.  It’s made with the residue of crack and mixed in with kerosine, glass, and rat poison and is about one peso per hit so it’s wrecking havoc on the slums of Buenos Aires.  Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures because it was too dangerous to carry around anything valuable.  It was so strange to be in such a poor area especially when you call a ritzy area like Recoleta home.  Villa Misera was aptly named; everything was dirty and broken and there was a crazy lady yelling at the dogs in the streets.  Definitely an experience were you look back and think how lucky and beautiful the life you lead truly is.  

I need make everyday better than the last.  I feel like this weekend MIGHT be really cool because we’re leaving Wednesday to spend a few days in Iguazú Falls, a series of waterfalls in between Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay.

I guess they’re pretty:


NOS VEMOS.