Hola Morocha!!!!!

September 7th, 2007

I thought this experience would be easier than France, but I bamboozled myself. My flight was less emotional yes, less tearful yes, and getting through the airport more of a breeze yes. However Paris was a much easier city to navigate. More people spoke English in Paris, which spoiled me and made the experience less difficult. I started out my traveling on September 6th Yesterday. My mom and my brother drove me to the airport. Upon leaving the house we were all in chipper moods, even taking pictures together. Until my five year old niece started hugging my leg like an environmental activist and burst out into tears. I almost made it out the door without crying but my niece caused a domino effect of emotions between my mom, brother, sister and I. We regained our cheer as we loaded my luggage into the car. As we drove along the highway my brother’s new stereo system serenaded us with Maxwell as the wind from the open window patted our ears like a drum. This is only the second trip in all my life to an airport. My first was to Paris in the year 2004. That trip was the opposite of this one. On the drive it was also my brother, mother, and I, but unlike the lively excited chat that went along with this ride, there was dead silence. I was nineteen years old then. I am now twenty-two. When I seen the top of the airport my stomach felt as if it were flipping itself inside and out. A plane was taking off in the distance, which gave me a jerk of emotions. Even so I was able to hold in my feelings. I parted with my mom and brother at the gate and a nice bag check agent from outside the airport doors helped check me in. The serious expression on the ticket agents face intimidated me and I thought to myself uh oh I got a live one here, but I realized he was just focusing and doing is job. He even put me on an earlier flight so that I would not miss my connecting one. My check through security was quick and easy. A male security guard asked if he could look further into my carry on. I said sure. He wore rounded eyeglasses almost as round as his nose. He was a beige complexion and had a little stubble growing in.

“Where are you going?”

Argentina I replied.

“You going to college or something?”

“No I am going to write the script for my documentary, some short stories and travel around.”

“How long you going for?”

He said as his hands shimmied through the bottom of my bag. I sought of felt bad answering his questions. I thought I might get in trouble for distracting him.

“Six months.”

“Wow!”

He was done with my bag and now that things were a little shifted out of order, I had to push my books back in for them to fit. He laid his hand across my bag to help me zipper it close. I thanked him and began to walk away when he said

“ I got to buy some more gum anyway.”

And began to walk with me. He turned towards his partner and gave him a look to which his partner replied

“I got you.”

Then came the shocking question

“Are you rich or something?”

I laughed.

“No far from it, but hopefully that will change. I am just traveling right now and doing my thing.”
“That’s what’s up.”

He said with an amazed eyebrow. After asking him a question about currency exchange I made my way to my early flight. Ten-Twenty min later, I boarded my flight. I was greeted by a hobbit’s shoe instead of an airplane. I am 5’4 but this airplane made me feel as if I were 1” away from playing basketball. It was like being the bullet inside the chamber of a gun. I spent my time waiting for take off amusing myself by watching each new passenger to board the plane neck disappear as they attempted to make room for their shoulders and bags. It wasn’t until the stewardess announced

“Thank you for boarding United Airlines express flight”

That I understood the reason for my suffering. After landing in Washington I boarded my flight to Argentina. The longest flight and butt cramps of my life!!!! I entertained myself with a little of the in flight movie, but for most of the flight. Tracked its status by watching the little plane with the red line trailing behind it, make its way across the places on the static map. When the little plane hit certain parts of South America, I would look out the window to see if each country had its own unique cloud formation. The highlight of my flight was watching the sun lift up. It was like the art of creation. The black arc that stretched across the sky with slim lines of light on its edges, reminded me of the photograph you see in a biology book of the sperm cell making its way into the womb. The sun appearing over the horizon was like a baby peaking its head out at birth. This to me signified the birth of my new life and experiences in Buenos Aires.
Clearing customs was the easy part. Now I had to

1. Find my luggage and
2. Find my friends father who was kind enough to go out of his way and picked me up.

I stood by the carousel of luggage and watched the bags go round with the same anxiety a parent has watching their kid go round a carousel at an amusement park. After what felt like an hour of arguing with myself that my bag did not get left in Washington D.C. I seen my luggage making its way around and grabbed it. I headed straight for the exit and shoved my things through security for the last time. I headed for through sliding doors. When they parted there was a line of people like at a wrestling match, holding signs and cheering. I was scared that I would not find my friends father Norberto but was happy to see a sign with my name. A tall man with glasses and a kind face met me with a warm greeting. He politely grabbed my suitcase for me and we headed to the car. Along the way he introduced the city to me. I was able to see the outskirts of Buenos Aires that reminded me of the rough parts of Brooklyn maybe a little more rough. We drove around my neighborhood so that I could get to know it. We entered the building to my new apartment and rode tiny elevator barley big enough for two people up to my apartment. I opened the door to a studio like apartment with a dorm room feel. The curtains were drawn. Norberto walked over to the curtains and presented me with a balcony. With the tug of a string on the side of the balcony doors, wooden blinds began to lift and the balcony was revealed. A single wooden bench sat on the balcony as the leaves from the weeping tree painted their shadows (the shape of baby toes) on the bench. Everything else in the apartment was little beige wood furniture that included a desk, cabinet and draw. Norberto walked me into the kitchen. He explained to me that everything here runs on gas, not electric. So if I want to make the water warm for the kitchen and bathroom, I need to light the caliphone. The caliphone sits above the sink and looks similar to the stove Hansel and Gretel used to fry the witch. Once you light the caliphone, turning the dial marked C P M determines how hot the water gets. To light the stove you turn the gas on and then light it with a lighter or match. This was when culture shock began to hit me. After a demonstration of the water we realized it would not shut off easily, and in the bathroom water was leaking everywhere. Norberto said we must call the portero of the building Nestor. We went back to the lobby of the building and rang Nestor’s buzzer. He told Norberto he would reach us at the apartment. A few minuets later Nestor arrived. He was short with medium length jet-black hair, and had a friendly warm smile. Nestor does not speak English and I do not speak Spanish. So after a translation from Norberto I was told Nestor would be back later to fix both the kitchen and the bathroom. Norberto was so kind and helpful he bought me a small adapter that would allow me to plug in my American appliances. Norberto left with Nestor and being alone for the first time in my flat I missed my family.

The first thing I wanted to do was call my family and tell them I was all right. I punched in the numbers on the phone card I had but was told over and over again the number I was dialing was incorrect. I could not understand what the recorded voice was telling me I was doing incorrectly so frustrated hung up and began to unpack. I figured by the time I finished this task the phone card problem would disappear. I picked up the phone and tried again with no avail. So I swallowed my pride and dialed the number Norberto left with me if I needed to reach him. A woman picked up and I did not know whether to attempt broken Spanish or speak in English. I tried English first.

“Hi may I speak with Norberto?”

Silence than

“Halo.”

I decided to try Spanish.

“Yo uuuuh soy amiga de Maria Fernanda.”

“Aaaaah Maria’s friend.”

“Si Si.”

She began to speak in Spanish and I could not understand her.
“I need help trying to call, llamarle mi familia.”

“ No entiendo. I don’t understand.”

After a few more words in Spanish she said

“He will call you.”
I thought the woman must have been Amelia my friend fernanda’s mother and Norberto’s wife.
Hungry but to afraid to go out and order food with my retarded sounding broken Spanish. I climbed into bed and put the covers around me. I decided I would wait for my call from Norberto. Even though I had two covers wrapped around me I shivered uncontrollable, and began to feel my skin scale up. I heard a buzzing sound and thought it was the buzzer and realized it was my phone. I quickly answered it and was glad to hear Norberto’s voice. I explained to him my problem and began to try and solve it by reading the back of the card to him in Spanish. He explained to me what it said and felt the information to be confusing and telling me the wrong information. He said I could go to the Locoutorio (The internet café here) and ask for a cambina to call the United States. He said I will cross my fingers and if it does not work do not hesitate to call back. So a little frustrated I headed out with my wallet, a sample phone card, and my green Jansport back pack (My only purse at the moment). I walked down the street memorizing landmarks to aid me in my Dirrectiondystrophy. My hands were quivering the whole time. Well aware of the warning that there are not many black people living in Buenos Aires I began to see and feel the stairs. Nothing insulting or uncomfortable, but just looks of wow something new. One guy walking his dog exclaimed something in Spanish as if he found the long lost wonder of the world. Another man with the appearance of captain crunch (Subtract the costume) let out a

“HOLA!!!!!!!”

Three construction workers walking by began to talk amongst each other like high school boys and look back. I figured I might as well get use to it. I entered the Locoutorio door. As I parted my lips to begin my broken Spanish again I heard the words

“AND ACTTION!!!!”

go off in my head. After no success just busy signals in the cabina. I proclaimed a no funciona mime with my hands and showed my sample phone card. I bought two and headed back to my flat. I attempted to call my family with the same results. I did not want to bother Norberto again but with no Internet and his number the only working number I could call I had no choice. I dialed the number and Amelia picked up again. I muttered the words Norberto then the line went dead. I tried again and Amelia put Norberto on the phone. I told him what happened and gave him my calling card number so he could hear what was being said and translate. He called back and told me that it is saying I am putting in the wrong number. I studied the card harder and realized I was dialing the number on the card as if I were in the United States. I found the number to call from Buenos Aires and tried my mission again. This time I moved a step further. The card company announced itself and told me to put in the pin

“Yes One Up.”

But I did not get further than this. The card was not connecting to the US number, even when I dialed 001-1212-751-2834. I tried time after time for an hour. I gave up and decided to try and take a shower then realized with the water dripping and not shutting off completely in the kitchen, I did not want to attempt turning on the shower. I decided instead of just sitting and doing nothing I should go play with the knobs. The shower turned on fine the water was just cold. I was curious about a second bowl like the toilet sitting next to it and wandered what it was. I turned a knob attached to it and water squirted into a big burst onto my face. Thank god mainly my glasses and hair got the most of the attacking water. I went back to my covers feeling defeated belittling myself saying how dumb I am to be afraid to ask for food to buy, so I can stop my stomach from eating itself. I pulled a card my friend Miriam (who also spent some time in Buenos Aires) wrote to me before I left. When my eyes scrolled across the part take in the good and the bad it’s all apart of the experience I burst into tears. I laid back down when it me out of nowhere. Take out the one. Dial 001-212. I ran to phone, went through the process of using the phone card and tried my families’ number again, this time taking out the one. It was a success!!!!! The number began to ring. When I heard my moms voice on the other end I teared up.

“Mom I have been trying to call you for two hours now.”

“Hi Jen are you ok.”

I was explaining everything and realized my mom was strangely quite on the other end. I realized my card cut off. When I tried to get my mom again, I was just met with busy signals. I knew I was doing everything right, so what could be the problem. After half an hour I tried again and got through. My mom comforted me and said

“Just get something to eat and try to take a rest and shower.”

I explained to her I did not want to miss Nestor’s knock on the door. So I opted for making a warm cup of tea and calling it a day, but first I would try and shower in some way. I washed up as best I could in cold water. When I was done Nestor knocked on the door. I was a little embarrassed to be in Pajamas but figured he would not care. Nestor was a very kind man. We laughed at each other, as we could not understand each other well. He tried as best he could to explain to me what did not work and what he was fixing. I understood a bit of his questions in Spanish like what is your name?

“Estudiar en Universidad?”

“No, no estudiar en Universidad aca.”
When I tried to explain I was a filmmaker the conversation did not fare to well. So we just chocked it up to not understanding each other well. After Nestor left I began to make my tea when I forgot I had to light the stove myself. On one of the several nervous attempts to light the stove with a lighter, I pulled back a roasted thumbnail that looked like the top of a browned marshmallow. My phone rang during this process so I abandoned my stove and ran to the phone. It was a Spanish tutor a friend had recommended to me. She too spoke little English and with another frustrated attempt at speaking Spanish, we arranged for private lessons. I hung up with her and went back to the stove. I was not going to let something as simple as making a cup of tea defeat me. I turned the gas on once again and with a few flicks of my lighter the top of the stove was lit.

“Yes Scooby Snack.”

The phone rung again but when I picked it up it shut off with a busy signal. I called my mom up and asked if she tried to call. She told me no. I kept her on the phone and used this opportunity to tell her the water was now fixed, and that I got the stove to light and was about to have tea. She told me

“This will make a stronger woman out of you.”

She is right I came here to challenge myself, to grow outside of my comfort zone. I am going it alone. To have all this happen to me on my first day in Buenos Aires made me thankful for the introduction. I rather it be frustrating now. Many times throughout the day I said to this is not the script I wrote when I fantasized this trip over and over again. Then I thought to myself I will rewrite it and get it as close to the script as I can get. I am not going to let me get in my way. I have tons of challenges ahead.

1. The first time I buy something to eat.

2. Pay my bills

3. Go to an ATM

4. Get my hair blown out.

5. Learn Spanish

6. Make friends

7. Connect to the internet

8. Ride the trains

9. Take the bus.

10.Go grocery shopping.

Everything whether its small or large becomes a challenge, but one that can be conquered. This experience will change me for the good, it has already started the moment I sat down and spent the last three hours writing this.

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Hola Morocha!!!!!

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