Touchdown into Spring (long summary of 1st 3 weeks)

As expected, the flight was long and uncomfortable, uncomfortable enough to limit Ambien’s supposed magic to an oft broken 4 hours of upright sleep. But no matter, anticipatory adrenaline overrides such molestations. Stepping off the plane and into Eriza International Airport (located on the South-West side of Buenos Aires, Argentina’s capital) proceeded quickly, and aside from the grimace that graced the customs officer’s face upon examining my splotchy and crinkled passport (I unintentionally soaked the thing with my sweat while my Dad and I ran around Ecuador in March of 06’. Lesson learned: Money belts are for money, hide your passport somewhere dry), I passed into the reception area without trouble. Standing amongst the forty or so people waiting near the exit, were two 50-something Argentines holding a Foundation for Sustainable Development (FSD) sign. They were my people. Viviana (my host mother) and her brother Jorge greeted me kindly with quick kisses on the cheek. Everyone cheek kisses upon helloing and goodbying, regardless of sex (hugging isn’t so common). Well, it isn’t so much a kiss as it is softly touching cheeks and making a kissing sound; very nice tradition tough, and the intimate engagement does not leave room for awkwardly dancing around an ice-breaker.
We jumped into Jorge’s seatbelt-less car and sped onto the autopista (highway) that heads from Buenos Aires to La Plata. Within 20 minutes we were outside of the semi-slummy/run-down highrise outskirts of Buenos Aires and cruising through the Argentine countryside. The drab and undeveloped landscape between the cities is reminiscent of South-Eastern US, flat and partially inundated. Rio La Plata (La Plata River) cuts along the coast, defining the north-eastern boarder of Buenos Aires, and lies north of La Plata. I am ashamed to say I don’t know why it is considered a river. It looks more like a bay into which the Rio Parana and Rio Uruguay (defining the Argentine/Uruguay border) dump excess water from humid south-eastern South America. I’ll figure it out once I have access to better maps. Mile upon mile of flat sparsely forested plains from a car window wasn’t overly stimulating, and I soon crashed unconsciously into a sprawling backseat powernap.
Fifty minutes outside of Buenos Aires I opened my eyes to middle class, mid-sized, and post-modern La Plata. A varied mix of automobiles, many from the 80s and earlier (no winter freeze= no salty rust) interspersed with 30+ year old beach cruiser bicycles, scooters, mopeds, dirt bikes and motorcycles graced the brick/asphalt roads. Aside from four year old children sitting on and clutching tight to rear bicycle racks or holding onto the jacket of their helmet-less mother cruising on her motor bike, the city limits of La Plata are not very surprising. The city was designed by a French architect in the 1880s and lies in almost perfect order along a grid dissected by six diagonal streets within a square outer belt. Unfortunately many of the original 19th century buildings have been replaced by modern concrete walled houses and the original trolley system was abandoned for buses decades ago, although a few older buildings still stand along the city’s main avenues.
We arrived at Viviana’s house and were met by her enthusiastic and goofy looking black mut “La Negra” (the black one, very creative:) The house is a small and comfortable ranch that sits on the corner of 30th and 76th street. Miguel, my host father was home to meet us and, after our friendly introductions, started speaking in heavily accented and slangy spanish about the bad economic situation and how he didn’t like working black jobs but had to because his white job wasn’t throwing loads of cash his way (I later found out that black and white jobs refer to the informal and formal economies, with no racial connotation). I soon discovered I couldn’t really understand Viviana either, and wow, my head hurt, so I took a nap. It was short lived however, as Marcela, the FSD director here in Argentina showed up to collect and orient my exhausted self.
Since I was starting the program later than the other 7 interns in Argentina, I was given an expedited three day orientation, and it didn’t consist of much. We chatted about cultural dos and don’ts, program expectations, how to set up my work plan, etc. During these three days I got to know the FSD staff pretty well. Marcela, Fabian and Ana are a very lively and cute bunch. I think Marcela is in her late twenties (or very early thirties) while Fabian is in his mid thirties. Both are worldly Argentines that can speak English very well. Ana is a bit younger, mid-late twenties, was raised in Milwaukee, went to BostonU and is enrolled in an international relations masters program here in La Plata. Ana took me off to a comedor (more or less a food kitchen) in the slummy outskirts of La Plata where an intern is helping to establish a garden that will augment their food supplies. The comedor is in a surprisingly poor area, well placed among rutty/muddy roads and houses made of cinder blocks and sheet metal. Open troughs filled with grey water (and I’m sure black water [i.e. sewage]) line each street and countless dogs regularly scavenge through the abundant trash (mostly plastic) flowing freely about the raw layout. Such dilapidated disorder is not reminiscent of the people’s hospitality however; everyone offers a smiling hello and many in the community are happily assisting with the comedor’s garden establishment.

The next few days proceeded slowly and were mainly spent chatting with the FSD staff and my host family, and walking about La Plata taking pictures. Speaking and listening to Spanish all day really took a toll on my energy level and I frequently crashed into power naps, which resulted in rather comical groggy wake ups accompanied by incoherent strings of non-sensible Spanish. We eat together in the evening, but I pack lunch because both Miguel and Viviana work during the day. Food here isn’t that different from the USA, but there is better variety in soda pop (grapefruit flavered “pomella” is surprisingly delicious) and beef, while less variety in veggies, spices, cereals, dairy, and beer. The wine however, is amazing! Every supermarket has rows and rows of domestic wine (most of the wine produced in Argentina is consumed in country), mostly red with the most popular being Malbec. The most expensive supermarket bottles ring in at about $40 (equivalent to $13 USD) while the majority of the bottles lie within the $3-$15 range ($1-$5 USD), wow! Thus far it has all been tasty stuff and far better than the $3-$4 crap (Crane Lake and Charles Shaw) I would occasionally drink back at OU.
As mentioned earlier, Argentina has great beef diversity and it is customary that a cut of beef be served with every meal. Cows here are pasture fed all their lives, so the meat isn’t marbled as heavily as it is back home. For the most part the beef isn’t seasoned very heavily, and Argentines apparently have not taken to marinades, so the hunks of cow are pretty bland, but in comparison with unseasoned US beef, Argentina flavor kicks our ass! You’d think, since Argentines indulge so heavily in beef every meal, that they would be a wee bit hefty. Haha, not the case at all, in fact, I’ve never seen good looking 20 something bodies in such high density. And it doesn’t stop with the youth; on the whole, everyone down here looks damn good. It must be a combination of Euro-IndigenousAmerican hybrid vigor and the Maté…
· Yerba Maté: A stimulating tea that everyone is obsessed with in Argentina and parts of Brazil/Paraguay/Uruguay. It is basically leaves plucked off a maté bush that are dried, cured, and macerated. The crushed up maté leaves are put into a maté gourd (literally a hollowed out gourd that serves as a cup) and hot water (not boiling, just hot) is poured over the loose leaves until the gourd is full. Then you immediately drink the tea in one or two passes through a perforated metal straw that is shaped like a spoon. If you are drinking alone, just keep refilling when you want. Maté is often drunk in a social setting however, and when you finish your turn, the gourd is passed back to the person with the hot water, refilled and passed onto the next person. It essentially mirrors the rotation observed during a Cannabis smoke session. All is very communal and social, if you are stand offish and scared of backwash, you’d best not participate ;o] The tea itself is loaded with caffeine, but the buzz is much different than that of coffee. No jitters or serious over stimulation when you drink a lot, just a very pleasant, strong, and stimulating calm. Darwin used to drink it to help him sleep….

On Friday, I finally met my supervisor, Juan Luis Peri. I was quite nervous of course, as my Spanish is soundly mediocre, and I couldn’t understand anything people were saying in their heavy Argentine accents and unfamiliar slang. But fear of revealing embryonic vocal communication ability only further inhibits my ability to speak, so I let it go. Ana and I arrived at Juan Luis’s house about an hour after we got on the bus, it isn’t very far from my house, but buses are not very efficient. He lives on the outskirts of town on a dirt road, still on La Plata’s grid but adjacent to sheep/goat/horse pastures. His neighborhood is pretty typical of most middle class neighborhoods on the city margins: nice well landscaped ranches (not many two story houses outside of the city) next to sheet metal shacks, next to random open fields with some soccer goals trash and a horse or two trotting about. As is typical of all Latin American cities, a wide gamut of stray dogs grace the street in loosely knit packs eating trash and taunting pooches unfortunate enough to be constrained behind the wrought iron fences of their masters.
Ana and I knocked on the gate and were immediately engulfed by the wagging tails of Juan’s enormous golden lab and his mutty counterpart. Juan ushered us inside his lofty house, offered us some Maté and we began to chat. Fortunately Juan is easy to understand and is one of the few Argentines I can speak to for hours at a time(he does most of the talking). He has a full white beard, is very energetic and loves his cigarettes, and has the energy of an elf. All the while his relaxed friendly demeanor makes him one of the most approachable supervisors I’ve ever worked under. I think he retired a few years ago and now heads up the Non-Profit Organization “Associacion Argentina de Periodistas Ambientales” (Argentine Association of Environmental Journalists). We discussed options for my involvement with Periodistas Ambientales, and he basically said I can do whatever I want so long as it has to do with environmental journalism. The most promising projects are related to two project proposals he recently submitted that deal with creating sustainable development plans about two villages in the province of Córdoba. The first proposal involve investigating poverty/tourist potential in the town of Luis V Mansilla, located on the shores of a shallow salt lake. The second will involve creating a GIS to guide development in the rapidly growing organic agriculture/tourist town of San Marcos Sierras. Brief descriptions of these towns are as follows:
· San Marcos Sierras: A town of 900ish people located in the gentle mountains (older than the Appalachians) of western Córdoba. Experienced a population boom in the 60s, when a bunch of hippies moved in from the city. These hippies were very into organic agriculture and have since established a thriving artesian food culture. The combination of good food (olives, goat cheese, tons of honey, diverse produce, ect), pleasant microclimate (thanks to the mountains), and retained hippie culture has given the town a good name and tourists have begun flock by the thousands every year. The tourist trade is managed well, all is ecotouristy and not at all commercialized, but the town is experiencing another population boom and grew nearly 50% from 1991-2001 (current census data is unavailable). In an effort to keep expansion/tourism well managed and to retain cultural identity, the town’s directors have expressed interest in creation of a GIS to assist in management of economic/municipal growth.
· Luis V Mansilla: A very poor town located shores of the country’s largest salt marsh. Multiple smaller communities lie about the area, but the entire region is rather isolated as poor road infrastructure and brief periods of inundation make travel by automobile difficult. The region is rich in avian diversity, and is home to thousands of flamingos and various endangered birds. A large scale salt mining operation once supported the town’s economy, but that was relocated to a more accessible town on the other side of the marsh. The surrounding countryside consists of scrubby forest that is rapidly dwindling as residents harvest wood for charcoal, which results in more frequent inundation of low lying areas and an alarming increase of excessive salinization of once arable soils. In an effort to relieve pressure from surrounding forests we are to investigate other revenue generating options such agricultural export and tourist potential

Juan is very confident both of these proposals will be funded and he wants me to help with the preliminary investigations for the projects. The first thing I was to do he said, is enjoy myself at the International Climate Change Conference in Buenos Aires on Monday (he helped organize it). The conference was mostly over my head but there was free sushi so all was well.

My next project was to return to Buenos Aires and look for maps that were created by the Hydrological Resources Department and the Geographic Military Institute. Ha what an adventure that was…Lots of running around and being re-directed and sent to other buildings only to find out the people I was looking for were in another part of the country attending some geology conference. In the end, I found two hard copy topo maps, both at too small a scale to be useful, in addition to being given a URL to Argentina’s public access GIS database, which doesn’t work… Oh yea, and I voted

The walk to the embassy was interesting, mainly because I got a bit lost and ended up walking along a street (Republic of India) that is frequented by dog walkers, who don’t like to pick up their dog’s poop. Ugh, I’m not usually grossed out but this sidewalk was DISGUSTING. Every two or three feet there was a new pile of dog crap ranging from a nice neat healthy looking turds to bloody mucousy pools of I don’t know what. My stomach (nose) was turning and I couldn’t take it so had to cross the street. When I finally made it to the park in front of the embassy I was greeted by more dogs, 50 or so (Poodles/Labs/Golden Retrievers/SmallDogs)…all leashed and barking happily, twas a goofy sight. Voting in the embassy was a bit informal. We were handed a write in ballot, no ID checking (except for the initial passport clearance at the gate) or nothing. I’m ashamed to say I looked at the ballot a bit dumbfounded, could remember neither Obama’s first name, nor the name of his running mate, and had no clue who my state representatives were. “Obama” was the only word I wrote on the ballot, HA (I was a much better voter in Athens, I promise)!

And back to La Plata…That weekend I got my first taste of Argentine night life. I didn’t believe people when they said that nothing really starts until around 3am, silly me. Max (another intern) and I met at his house and sipped on some rum from 12:30-2:00am then went out to the club where everyone else was to meet. We were admitted with some odd looks and walked into an essentially empty building. Hahaha, we decided to come back in an hour and a half after some more beers at another, semi-full bar down the road. Upon our return the place was filling up, nothing too crowded, but lively nonetheless. Around 4am a barrage of Argentine/Indian/Jamacian/African/UnitedStatesian funk erupted from an eclectic group of musicians onstage, culminating a few hours later in the best version of Funkytown ever. Then it was upstairs, to another stage where an Argentine funk band was heating up. We danced until about 7:30am, walked outside to eat some street vended sausage in the bright morning light and went our separate ways. On the way home I took the wrong bus, ended up on the wrong side of the city had to walk about 40 minutes to take another bus and after about two hours of misdirection (10am) made it back into bed! Ugh, no repeats Saturday night ;0)

Most of my time now is spent looking up information on Luis V Mansilla, riding my beach cruiser around town, reading, talking to kids on the neighborhood and taking pictures. The town has a lot of bicycles (not necessarily bike friendly however) and I am one of the few people living in La Plata to wear a helmet. Days are becoming pretty slow so I’m going to help start a composting project at one of the comedors with another intern. Should be running off to Luis V Mansilla in a few weeks once we figure out how to fund the trip, until then, more reading and pictures :P

As far as the blog entries and pictures are concerned, I’m going to keep it more visually oriented with brief descriptions of pictures. Way easier and less time consuming to follow and update. Thanks for reading!

Finally...

Just under two days left in Columbus and eagerly awaiting my departure. Three consecutively canceled flights and starting the trip 18 days later in a different country was actually a blessing as it afforded me the necessary time to catch up on undergrad work/graduate applications.

Next post once I am in country...