Congrats on a Month

One of the hardest things to get my head around, in fact I would almost go so far as to say it’s incomprehensible, is that it’s been over a month since I left home. It sounds terrible but in all honesty I’m still waiting to get homesick, granted I miss it now and again when I happen to see something that reminds me of home but I can’t say that’s it’s a constant feeling, or even that strong when I do get it. I have no idea why, maybe it’s because I love it here so much, and I have really been blessed with the best; I love my family so much, and the fact that I can talk about them in a way that requieres me to clarify I mean my Argentine family goes to show how close to them I’ve already become, Amalia is like my second mum, it feels like Valen has been my brother forever, and I’m sure Chino will be the same as soon as we can understand each other… I am so incredibly grateful for them, and even though we’ve only known each other for less than 6 weeks, I would call them my family in a heart beat.

As soon as I finished my last post, yes I needed (and still do, in real time it was only last night) to add photos but Writing Jacqui was already planning what she was going next. You might be wondering what it was I was planning but to be honest I can’t for the life of me remember what it was, but I do know that it wasn’t this, but I had some free time on my hands, with no wifi, and I thought what better way to pass the time than by doing something actually productive.

I have no idea what I’m going to write about next but I think it might end up being like a month at a glance, looking back at some of my favourite stories, you’ll probably have read about them before but they’re my favourite for a reason, and I’ll probably add in some other tidbits too, little interesting things, like how I still haven’t adjusted to the sleeping pattern, usually waking up late and staying awake for the rest of the day without a nap in the afternoon, or how much pizza we get to eat, which I’m definitely not saying is a bad thing I need to get used to, a life with pizza is a good life after all.

Moment of truth, I hadn’t quite realised the toll typing so much takes on my phone battery so maybe I won’t be making the most of the time. Why am I on my phone you ask? Well currently we’re sitting in a field, where, I don’t know, but somewhere about 2 hours from home, because Valen is racing his quad here today. While it’s considerably louder, it reminds me strangely of BMX days, the constant stream of riders going past, sitting under a gazebo listening to the same music which always seems to be on a three song loop. Ok so I had good intentions I promise, but this paragraph alone has cost me 7 valuable percent of my battery, and since I forgot my charger when we left at 5:45 this morning, I’m not exactly looking to burn anymore just yet considering it’s only 9am and we still have the whole day ahead of us. So until either a charger appears in front of me or I get home to my laptop, chau for now…

None of the above has happened but I’ve decided I’m going only going to write when I need to fill in the time, now being one of those times. Every time I start to write I wonder what I should talk about, but never before has it occurred to me to look at the blogs of other exchange students but that’s exactly what I did the other day. Reading them, I can help but notice how similar they are to each other yet quite different to mine which makes me wonder, am I doing this whole blog thing right? I mean obviously I’ve got the part where I talk about what I’m doing, but am I missing some things? Should I be talking about the things I’m noticing here? Maybe I should focus less on what I’m doing and more on how it’s different to what I would be doing in New Zealand… instead of talking about the places, perhaps I’d be better talking about the people? I assume you’re making up your own opinion as you’re reading this, wether it be along the lines of don’t worry it’s fine, or actually I wish she talked more about such and such. Whatever it may be I’d love to know so please make the most of the comments section and if you want to go that extra mile, send me a message while you’re at it! You’re probably getting sick of me waffling on and on, and that’s the perfect example of what you should write in your comment! But long story short, I know I complain sometimes and make it seem like it’s a big deal, but I love writing, and I love knowing people are enjoying what I write so I want to make sure it’s the best blog possible, and I need your help to make sure it is! It’s great fun telling you all about my adventures but I’d love some feedback as well so let’s help each other out and make the world a better place…

Well moving on, I said this was going to be a bit different and I think I’ve nailed that part, now let’s see where part II takes us… it’s at least once a day that I have to remind myself where I am, obviously it’s not home but it’s become familiar enough that it doesn’t scream, Jacqui you’re in Argentina, and one of the strangest things is the thought that just like I’m from New Zealand, these people around me are from Argentina. Their home is Argentina, this is where they live. It’s such a strange concept and wrapping my head around it is even harder, Argentina is such a foreign country to me, on the other side of the world, and yet they’re probably thinking the same thing about me and New Zealand. I think what’s different than being on holiday in a foreign country is for those two weeks or so that you’re away from home, there’s always the knowledge that sooner or later you’re coming home so you don’t take in quite as many of the little details, at least that’s what it seems like, whereas coming to live somewhere for a year you quickly become acutely aware of the way people are living their lives around you, picking up on their mannerisms and the way they act knowing for them it’s just another day in their life, yet for you 90% of what you’re seeing is different, sometimes fascinating, sometimes worrying, sometimes it’s something absolutely incredible. I don’t know what it’s like for other people who have been on an exchange, or lived abroad for extended periods of time but while this is time is a strange one for want of a better word, I’m not entirely sure I want it to end because who knows what comes next, although taking into account the experiences I’ve had already I’m sure the next chapter is going to be a good one.

In the beginning I touched on the things that I haven’t got used to like sleeping and pizza, ironic because those are two of my favourite things, but there’s a whole lot of little things that mess me up sometimes, like the literal embodiment of living on South American time. A typical Friday for me is usually as follows, wake up about 9, go to my Spanish lesson at 10:15, fill in the day with whatever I fancy, catch the bus to hockey at 3:30 for hockey at 4:30 then come home and probably go out somewhere. Let me demonstrate the difference between what that means in Argentina and what that means in New Zealand. If this was my day in NZ it would mean waking up at 9 because I’m not going to waste time getting up any earlier than I have to, get ready, have breakfast about 9:30 and be heading out the door about 10 just in drive somehow ends up 10 rather than 2 minutes. I would be early of course, but that’s ok. Then I’d come home, still do whatever the day brought, and then start getting ready for hockey about 2:30, leaving for the bus 5 minutes down the road at 3:15 and I would come home from hockey knowing exactly where I’m going when. In Argentina this is not the case, yes I wake up about 9 but this looks more like setting an alarm for 9 and then another 5 between 9 and 9:30, when I’ll usually start psyching myself to get out of bed which I do about 9:45. NZ Jacqui is half panicking but ARG Jacqui is there saying don’t worry, you can be having breakfast at 10 because Amalia won’t be here to pick you up until at least 10:14 which is fine and you’ll get to Carola’s house at 10:18 at the latest. I’ll finish my lesson at 11:30, ish of course, and wait for Amalia to pick me up, filling in the time struggling to talk with Lucas, whose learning English, exchanging more apologetic confused looks than words in the anywhere between 2 and 10 minutes it takes for Amalia to arrive. Then it’s home for whatever until lunch about 1, and whatever until getting ready for hockey about 2:30 then waiting for whoever it may be to take me to the bus stop about 3:27 so I can buy a ticket at 3:29 as the bus is pulling in and be on it at 3:30. Just. Then I come home, have a shower, eat (maybe) evaluate what everyone else is wearing, then try to match it in the anywhere between 5 and 55 minutes until we leave. And that is life in Argentina. And another thing that didn’t even cross my mind until I realised I probably couldn’t have been more stupid: the taps in the shower and everywhere else for that matter don’t say H or C. I also thought that was strange for the first week I was here, how can you tell the difference? Then I realised that the taps don’t speak English either and the random letters, C and F are in fact hot and cold, they just happen to be in the language that everyone speaks… Also fun are the words that sound like completely different words, which makes trying to understand things very fun when you’re relying on being able to pick out the words you do know and figure out the rest of the sentence from there. It soon becomes clear that you’ve heard something wrong when you put the words together and you end up with something like look me the water please… and it takes a few seconds before realising that actually 3 seconds ago they asked you to please pass the water and they’re now looking at you while you both have the same confused look on your faces, only theirs is from wondering why you’re giving them a strange look while yours is from wondering what the heck they just to you. Such fun. It gets even more interesting when words sound like something in English. I would like to give you an example but I’m still trying to work out what the word actually was, unless people go around saying random things like ‘thats enough’ in the middle of lunch, or ‘please stop’ when lying by the pool.

I could probably say that I’ve noticed so many different things about life here, but in all honesty I can’t think of that many on the spot, apart from the time, taps, dirt roads, driving on the other side of the dirt roads (!!!) but I am pleased to say I’ve only physically gone round the wrong side of the car once, the other 473 times were only in my head. People are always asking me if I like it here, and they always give me strange looks when I say how much I love it. Why?? They ask me, but most of the time I can’t explain why. I don’t think it’s the individual elements that they expect me to talk about, like how the Main Street is closed in the evening, or how the majority of cars are old, or even the fascinating weather, it’s all of these things coming together that make Capilla so different from my first home that make me love it so much. It might not be anything incredible to the people who live here but for me, coming from a relatively big town, living on a road that might see 1000 cars drive it in a day, to somewhere with less than a third of Papakura’s population and a street home to 10 people with half as many cars, makes my experience all the more interesting and exciting in a way, because I never know what’s going to surprise me next, but most of the time it’s something that makes me love it here even more.

Even though a month is only 30 or so days, it’s unfathomable when I think about everything I’ve done since getting here. From being in Buenos Aires for three days, experiencing one of the best days of my life at Santa Susana, to arriving and settling in here, returning to Buenos Aires not once but twice, making my count more than Amalia and Valen, to all the things we’ve done here, the ones that I’ve told you about as well as the ones that I still haven’t got around to, all the dinners with everyone, riding horses in the mountains with Valen, discovering my previously undiscovered slight claustrophobia climbing between two rocks while also negotiating my dislike of heights, and all the other things I don’t have time to talk about. I’ve had such a great time here that I’m worried I’m not making the most of the time with my amazing family, and it’s hitting me that I have limited time here, and it’s in those moments that I realise how much I truly feel at home and I could stay here for another 11 months. I know that the whole point of moving families is to get a better perspective and a deeper understanding of where you are, and I’m sure once I’m there I’ll be saying the same things as I am now, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to move. I’m yet to find out but I was thinking to myself that maybe that’s going to be even harder than leaving home, having to leave your first family, the first ones who welcomed you here, who took you in and introduced you to everyone and everything, the ones who are now, in my case, the people closest to you, your true home away from home. Something I do know is whatever happens and however it turns out, I will have a home here for life, and don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated no matter the outcome.

I think, and hope, I’ve covered everything I wanted to say… it’s hard to tell since it’s been such a crazy month and besides, there’s nothing stopping me from adding something later if I suddenly think of something I think you really should know. I’ve typed all of this on my phone, so it seems like it’s a lot, but I’m probably going to look at it on my laptop and think wow, you really got ahead of yourself, it’s only 10 (small at that) paragraphs, compared to the usual 34! (I guess theres not photos like there usually is, and they tend to make it seem like I’m scrolling forever)(Speaking of images, what am I meant to use as a cover for this one?? If only there was a way for you to leave a comment and tell me…) What’s the writing equivalent to chewing someone’s ear off? Whatever it is I’ve somehow managed to do it yet again so I’m going to wrap it up here, but congrats to me because I only started this yesterday (so if the date makes you think, no fool it’s a month and a day, the thought was there)! It seems strange ending in a random place but I’m living kind of a random life right now. Random but good that’s for sure…

Chau – Jacqui Philp

Life in Capilla Del Monte

I’m going to start this instalment with an apology. I know the last post ended in a bit of a cliff hanger and for that I’m sorry, but it obviously worked since you’re reading this now!

If I remember rightly it was Thursday the 26th of Jan and I was in the boarding lounge in the airport at Buenos Aires waiting to get on a plane to Cordoba, which all going to plan would take off at 7:15am. Which was a long while away considering we got to the airport at 5 just to make sure we had time to sort everything out, which perhaps was necessary for those flying international to Brazil and Chile, however for me going a mere hour and a bit, it meant I had about an hour to kill before the gate opened at 6:40am. It took me a very long while to actually figure out when they opened as I couldn’t read the screens but then I had the brainwave of looking at my ticket which solved that problem, however I soon encountered another one when I began to hear what I assumed were other boarding calls. In Spanish. Which of course I did not understand. Being by myself meant I had a lot of time to consider all my options, however it also meant there was nobody there to point out the obvious; even if I didn’t understand the call, it wouldn’t be that hard to see everyone lining up at the gate when the time came. I eventually got it figured out and soon I was walking down the path to the bus (!!) which took us to the plane waiting on the tarmac and after struggling down the aisle to the row second from the back with my awkward bags I was finally ready to embark on the next leg of my journey.

Goodbye Buenos Aires…

… Hello Cordoba

I decided to make the most of the time and update my diary so I didn’t get even further behind than I already was, but try as I might the excitement was too much and my nose was either glued to the window taking in an aerial view of Argentina, or to the screen of my phone where I was reliving the previous day at Santa Susana. It definitely didn’t feel like an hour when the air hostess came round asking for tray tables to be stowed (I assume thats what they were saying) and we were ready to land. All of a sudden everything became very real, the paddocks below were no longer passing land, but the place where I would be, and once I landed there was no going back, there was no connecting flight, no tickets home booked for two weeks time, this wasn’t just a holiday and the next time I would be on a plane could be as far away as a year. I began to stress a little to say the least but I was too busy videoing our approach and soon we felt the bump of tyres on tarmac – we had arrived. It took an eternity to get off, of course being at the back also meant I was one of the last to do so but once we started moving there was no stopping until I rounded the corner to see a sign with my name on it “Bienvenidos Jacqui Philp” and it was purple! At the time I didn’t register the significance of the colour, and it wasn’t until a few days later that I remembered telling Maria that my favourite colour was purple and it made the moment all the more special. I was greeted with huge smiles with hugs and kisses and I was so overcome with their kindness that I completely forgot anything I might’ve been able to say in Spanish had I thought hard enough but nevertheless after a quick photo and more smiles we were headed to the car, and began driving, to where I had no idea.

Welcome Jacqui! My new family waiting at Cordoba, from left to right – Leo, Maria, Jacqui, Valen

As it turned out we were destined for the city of Cordoba, where I was lucky enough to get a tour of everything there was to see but once we had walked around for about two hours ( really I had no idea how long we were there for, or even what the time was, but what I did know was that I was absolutely cooking in my Rotary number ones) we headed back to the car and started driving for home, Capilla Del Monte. I had absolutely no idea what sort of a drive I was in for, but what should have been about a two hour drive turned out to be a relatively short one as the lack of sleep soon caught up on me and I started seeing double and fighting to keep my eyes open before falling asleep and waking up as we arrived in the small town. I still had no idea what I was in for but when I saw a sign saying Rio Negro at the end of a broken dirt road I knew we must be very close to home. Sure enough we were just around corner and that was it, welcome home! It was a very surreal moment, but it got a whole lot better when I walked into my room to see a huge purple banner covering the wall saying “Welcome Jacqui”. It was at that moment that I knew I had hit the jackpot with this family and I would be very happy to be a part of their lives, even if I couldn’t understand the majority of it.

My purple room – I couldn’t have done it better myself

Seeing as I’m writing this a week later some of the details are a bit shady but I’ll try and do may best to tell them as it happened. The rest of that day went very quickly, we had lunch, I unpacked my bags and promptly fell asleep, not waking up until it was about 8 o’clock. This turned out not to be a problem as I found out that everything really is South American time, and we weren’t having dinner until about 11pm, which turned out to be a trend, as we usually eat at sometime between 9 and 12pm. The next couple of days were a blur, at least the time that I wasn’t sleeping or eating was…

I’ll start with the town itself and then work from there. Capilla is a very small green town in Cordoba (9 hour drive from Buenos Aires), located at the foothills of the Cerro Uritorco mountain, the highest point of the Sierras Chicas, a mountain chain in Punilla valley. It’s quite a small place, the epitome of in the middle of nowhere, with highway runing along the edge of the town and its such a small place that if one was to take their eyes off their surroundings they might be driving past the ‘thank you for visiting Capilla del Monte’ sign without even realising it.  The town is tiny, peaceful and charming, surrounded by nature with a hippie vibe and a tranquil atmosphere. Downtown there are just a few cafes and restaurants, many organic and natural food stores, craft shops, Yoga, Reiki and meditation studios and even a small cinema. Many locals sell their crafts and delicious homemade pies around town. Although its so small, there is definitely no shortage of interesting, historic and fascinating things dotted around the place, and from my understanding (I can’t be completely sure what with the language barrier) both the origin and goings on around the mountains are somewhat extra terrestrial with reported sightings of UFO’s and paranormal activity, but the closet I’ve got to anything odd is the lightening storm that noiselessly turned the sky into a strange purple glow. The extra terrestrial aspect generates huge revenue during the tourist season, which it is now, and every day there are multiple busloads of tourists who flock to get a bit of the action (which usually turns out just to be a photo under the Capilla Del Monte sign which has an alien peering over the top of it, something I’ve yet to do) and walk around the many shops with a small green man in the window.

One of the shops lining the main street

Many small shops sell handmade gifts and trinkets

The only known roofed street in South America

Then there is the beautiful scenery, La Calabalumba river, a rock which bears uncanny resemblance to a shoe, a huge lake and the opportunity to climb the mountain if you’re feeling adventurous. ‘Downtown’ as everyone likes to call it, is relatively well looked after, a few cracks in the road here and there, but as soon as you make your way into the streets, you’re met with potholes and bumps, falling down fences, and in many streets like our own, a narrow dirt, or mud depending on the weather, path filled with channels created by the heavy spontaneous rain and the vehicles which try to navigate them.

View of Cerro Uritorco over looking Lago Del Cajon

Over looking Lago del cajon

In front of the dam, which Maria’s father supervised the building of, as well as the construction all around the lake

Looking back towards Capilla

The first few days were an initiation of sorts, first I met my councillor Juan Carlos, his daughter and the exchange student from Germany staying with them, and got the grand tour of their ‘house’ the downstairs of which acts as a hall for the campground/hostel/public pool/farm that is also part of their property. While we waited for Maria to return, Leo took me to see the incredible stone cathedral which sits on top of the hill which was absolutely breath taking, with incredible detailed paintings on the roof, beautiful statues and a shining gold altar. That afternoon we went to the river, Leo and Maria under the impression that I had never seen a waterfall up so close, until they later realised I live 15 minutes from Hunua falls, however it was still amazing, the river itself flows through the rocks and there are many natural waterfalls along the way. After walking for about 5 minutes we came to the perfect place where one could jump off the rocks, which much to the horror of Maria and admiration of Leo, I did without hesitation. We stayed for about an hour, laughing at the girls only in the water to take photos, gasping at the occasional time someone came particularly close to the rocks below, and overall enjoying the summer heat. One of the things I have noticed, not just in Capilla Del Monte, but Argentina in general, is the number of stray dogs hanging around everywhere, and as we were walking back along the river, one in particular took a liking to us. It wandered slightly ahead of us, checking to make sure we were still following every now and again, stopping when we did and he soon became a faithful companion. As we neared the skinny swing bridge to cross the river we saw the huge line of people waiting to do the same, so Leo being the boy that he is decided it would be better to cross the river further up, but the message didn’t get passed along to the dog, who had squeezed through the crowd and was waiting faithfully at the other end of the bridge. None of us had realised until we looked back to see him looking back to where we would’ve been coming from, holding up everyone trying to cross as he tried to look for us. Maria wasn’t too keen on returning home with another mouth to feed so much to Leo and I’s disappointment we continued walking, the fate of the dog unknown. On the way to the car we had a token tourist moment, taking a photo with Leo posing as aliens, then despite their protests, walked back to the car with no shoes on, shocking them both as I proceeded to walk across the stony path, my New Zealand summer and hot sand accustomed feet serving me well.

La Toma with Leo and Maria

Token tourists

 

The rest of the week has been filled with visits from what must be half the town, Maria explaining to me they are a very social family (to say the least), family meals where I am the only english speaking person at a table of 20, afternoon naps, meals at every possible moment and party after party preparing for Leo’s departure to New Zealand. And it’s been a blast. Another thing I’ve noticed is how family orientated they are, with at least on grandparent here most of the time, just popping over to say hello, coming round for lunch,  dinners with cousins just because. There are also some who live from further away in Cordoba, but when in Capilla seemed to spend majority of their time here with us or other family, which was an awesome thing to see, and the bond between my ‘brothers’ and both the older and younger cousins is so nice, but especially the older ones, anyone would think they are siblings, but not the bickering type, more the inseparable best friend type with admiration of the older and the love for the younger as well as the general care and concern for each other. It always makes me smile to myself when I see one of the boys come up and hug Maria, for no particular reason and its nice to see that even though they’re classic teenagers who hang out with their friends and party on the weekend, they always have love for their parents and are never to cool to show it.

Family farewell for Leo

Spending time together by the pool with Valen and Maria, taken by Leo

While a lot of the time has been incredible and unforgettable for all the right reasons, there are of course times when it isn’t such smooth sailing and even though I laugh about it with my english speaking friends, sometimes things are difficult here. One of the most challenging occasions is when we are having a meal with a big group of people, usually family, who of course know each other well, speak fast Spanish and little English, and what tends to happen is conversation continues on without a word of english for a good 5 minute, sometimes even half an hour will pass and I won’t have spoken since the last time I realised I was being asked a question. When it is my turn to speak, its after someone has spend the last few minutes trying to translate a question directed at me, but other than that I stick to smiling when every one else smiles, laughing when everyone else laughs and praying that I’m not the one their laughing and smiling about. It’s times like these when the extend of what I’m doing really hits home, as I have time (not out of choice but still) to stop and think and let my mind wander, sometimes into dangerous territory, about how lonely it gets sometimes and how out of place I am, no matter how much everyone tries to include me, and I think in not just the back of my mind, but every one else too, that no matter how long I’m here for, or how well I speak the language, I will always have a degree of foreigner in me that sets me apart from everyone else, wether that be in a good way or a bad way. I think I first noticed this on my first Saturday night here, when the plan was to have dinner downtown with friends, then go out afterwards. Dinner was delicious, and when we had finished eating Valen, Sabri and I went down the road to get ice cream and went to the small fair which runs on weekends. Even though I couldn’t understand half of what was going on, the most important thing to remember is laughter is the same in all languages, and it feels  just as good for the soul whether you understand the joke or not. It’s interesting thinking back because when Leo and the other boys joined us it was so incredibly fun and everyone was enjoying themselves, and it wasn’t until we went back and sat with the adults that my mood started to change. We had been at the table for a while, the ‘kids’ having their own conversation while the adults were having theirs and I found myself caught in the middle. Seeing that I was empty handed Maria offered me a drink which I gratefully accepted even if it was just something to focus on rather than trying to understand the conversation while not being part of either. Everyone started getting up to leave when Valen asked if I was coming to the club with them (to the rotary people reading this, don’t panic, it’s legal the minute you turn 16) but my mindset had spiralled from happiness and enjoyment to just wanting to go home and be away from everyone. These moments come and go every so often but its usually after being with groups of people who forget you can understand and just continue talking as if nothing is wrong, and each time its as difficult as the last. Of course there are people who speak English, and I’m biased in saying this but they are my favourite people at the moment, for example the cousins living in Cordoba, Macarena and German. It was after Leo’s big farewell where all family who could possible be there was, and the ‘kids’ (Cousins and brothers and girlfriends and Jacqui) had moved off and were passing drinks that German and Maca’s true ability to speak english was revealed. Dai and Leo had gone home so it was Valen, Maca, German and I just chatting by the pool. It was honestly the nicest feeling to be able to talk to people my own age and even though it was a bit difficult at some times we talked for almost two hours about everything from what I think of Argentina, to Maori culture and the conflict between Maori and land and Waitangi and all sorts of other irrelevant things that seemed so much better at the time because talking about something is always better than nothing.

German takes a photo at dinner, from bottom left around the table – Chino, Santiago (cousin), Maria’s sister, Leo, Dai, Valen, Camilla (cousin), German and Maca’s mum (Chino’s sister… I think), Macarena, Jacqui, Maria, Chino’s dad, Maria’s mum, Chino’s mum and German

Ice cream with Valen

Leo on La Samba at the fair

I just took a look back at everything I’ve written and realised that I may as well start calling them chapters rather than posts, but theres so much to write about its hard finding somewhere to stop. I think here will do for now, but don’t forget to come back soon, as theres so many more stories left to tell, and I still haven’t really gone full on novel about Buenos Aires, which will definitely be worth waiting for, plus I have heaps of photos to add. Until then though…

Chau – Jacqui Philp

3 Days in Argentina

So it’s official. I’ve been with my family for exactly a week today, so I guess you could say I really do live in Argentina now, how crazy is that?! Technically I’ve been here over a week if you want to count our stopover in Buenos Aires, but I arrived in Capilla Del Monte on Thursday the 26th of Jan and have been loving it here ever since.

I’ll start from the start, hopefully I won’t bore you with over sharing, I’m thinking I’ll give you the basic run down of what it’s been like since we left Auckland, and I’ll go into detail about Buenos Aires in another post, sound good? Good.

We left Auckland on Monday the 23rd of Jan (yes I do have to put the full date; you have no idea how confusing the time difference is) and let me tell you, that day was one of the most hectic of my life so far. In all honesty I can hardly remember the nitty-gritty details since so much has happened since then, but I can remember that it was a mad rush trying to get everything packed within weight limits, deciding what I really needed, and what things I could part with in an attempt to reduce the 3kgs of extra things… That of course doesn’t count the 54kgs of carry on luggage I had… well maybe not quite 54 but i can assure you my suitcase, plus my ‘handbag’ as well as my camera bag sure felt closer to 54kgs than the 8 point something it really was. As for the rest of the day it was spent frantically churning out badges and pins, fingertips of cousins getting burnt on hot glue guns, parents and an aunty saying surely there can’t be that many more, grandparents stressing about placement of flags on blazers…. it was a very crazy few hours to say the least, and this was before the bag debacle!

Finally leaving the house was a whole other situation, with panicked last-minute checks making sure I had everything (I didn’t), forgotten goodbyes to cats (obviously I had to find her before I went), deciding which car I was going to go in (sorry mum, you’re welcome best friend), coming to the conclusion that sunglasses were the best way to hide the tears in my eyes (but praying my make up lasted) and trying to remember every single detail of Auckland as we drove to the airport (there is a surprisingly large variety in the colour of grass as it turns out). The whole process was a mixture of emotions, of course I was excited to be embarking on the next chapter of my life, but at the same time I was nervous, sad and one or two second thoughts crossed my mind but soon I was too busy to take proper notice of them.

We (Lou, Tiana and I) got to the airport first and unloaded my 17 (3 very large) bags and saw Dad as we were walking to through the car park so we the 4 of us waited inside for everyone else to arrive (Mum, Grandma and Grandad, and Claire with Anna and Lily) which they did in typical Philp/Carrick/Hart fashion, hair blowing everywhere and a slight manic look on their faces. Of course there was drama, I couldn’t get my boarding pass without help, yes I was coming home on May 18 (if you say so), my bag was too heavy (goodbye $200) but finally everything was sorted and I only had to get through the next hour and a bit before I went through customs. Which was not easy. Long story short, the decision was made to wait in the bar for Roger who was helping sort out my visa (another long story), meanwhile the rest of the group was meeting the chaperones and Stuart was looking for me.

All in all it was confusing and stressful to say the least but the chips were a great last meal though! Finally it was time to go, which really meant wait 10 minutes for all the photos to be taken, be the last one to go through, and also be the one who has trouble with her ePassport, has to start again, and gets in trouble from customs. Then realises when its time to get changed that someone had forgot to put both socks and a singlet in your bag so you have to rock shoes without socks and stick with the slip you were wearing underneath your blouse. I think now is the time to mention that before I got changed, my uniform was very similar to that of an air hostess, and I found out just how similar when I went to buy a bottle of water and got asked if I wanted to use my staff discount, never mind the Rotary Student Exchange emblem on my blazer pocket, the badges all over it and my name tag that I would have thought would be the final piece of evidence to suggest that although I may look very similar, I am not in fact, an Air Hostess, contrary to popular belief. It was fun and games that’s for sure, and we mustn’t forget that I knew absolutely nobody in the group which was also great fun while we sat around waiting to board. Which we did at about 7:30 (don’t quote me on that because all I can really remember is when we took off). It was about 8:00 when I looked out the windows at my last views of New Zealand, the friendly screen in front of me “Kia Ora Jacqui” a girl I’d never met before in my life sitting next to me, who i would also spend the next three days with, along with the other 7 strangers in our group.

Final goodbyes with Tiana and Hamish, Los Tres Amigos

The flight itself was pretty good considering it was 11 hours. To begin with I kept looking out the window (in the opposite direction of everyone else) so nobody would notice my sweaty eyes but I gradually settled in and chose some movies, and before I knew it, dinner was being served. I was not so excited when I heard the first option was Argentine Beef Casserole, but my stomach perked up at the sound of the chicken, however much to my disappointment it was beef or beef, as everyone else apparently had the same idea as me. I pushed through the beef anyway and carried on with my movie, before having a snooze, watching another movie, breakfast and before long we were into the last 10 minutes and we were coming into Buenos Aires, which I kept track of as I watched our altitude slowly drop as we began our descent into Jorge Newbery Airport, Buenos Aires, at approximately 3:15 on Monday the 23rd of Jan, 2017.

We stepped off the plane and into the air bridge and it was literally like a stepping into a wall of heat. No air conditioning, long pants, a singlet plus a shirt, no socks still, carrying my excessively heavy two extra bags, in 34 + degree heat… Getting through security was a breeze, my tendency to make sure I knew everything about everything paid off when I was asked the name of the hotel we would be staying at, which prevented me from looking (and sounding) like everyone else who was calling out across everyone trying to figure out a) what the officer was saying and b) what the answer was (the Waldorf Hotel). My stress about the arrival card (the make, model and series of my phone? Other accessories?) was unwarranted as I’ve been here for a week and someone has yet to ask to see it so I’m beginning to think that it may have all been slightly irrelevant. Either that or something to do with my New Zealand passport which most people take a look at, smile and wave me through.

We saw our guide, Laura, who turned out to be absolutely lovely, and after the mandatory toilet stop we went outside to wait for the bus which would take us to the hotel. The drive was so interesting, I don’t know what I was expecting but in some places there were tall office buildings, and 200m down the road would be run down, half collapsed buildings and dead rooftop gardens. It also seems that going from place to place has a toll, as I learnt when I realised the road suddenly had about 15 lanes… after we got to the hotel, had settled in, showered, we changed into cooler clothes and decided we would all go out and explore the new city we had just been dropped into.

The buildings were one of the first things all of us noticed, the incredible architecture and masonry was something that you might expect to see in the streets of Rome or Paris and yet the building next door might be a glass high-rise, but at the same time it was equally likely to be a skinny apartment building, grungy walls covered in air conditioning units with wires hanging from windows and gutters… Even the shopping mall (Galeria) down the road looked absolutely amazing, and we hadn’t even seen inside it yet! Needless to say it became easy to see why Argentina is called the Paris of South America. Once we got back we saw Merv and Gill heading out so we organised to meet them at 8:30 and go out for dinner, our second of what would turn out to be a 34 hour Monday. Ordering dinner was much easier said than done, as we soon realised that while most us knew at least a little bit of spanish it was nowhere near enough to understand the menu, let alone actually order anything, and of course none of us had data, which made it even more difficult not being able to translate anything. After about 15 minutes of discussion and confused, frustrated looks we finally decided it would be easiest just to get three pizzas, one cheese and two ham and cheese, the only ones we knew wouldn’t entail any surprise toppings, and share them at the near by Plaza San Martin. We finally got home about 11:30 where we promptly fell asleep ready for a big day in the morning.

Galerias Pacifico

Galerias Pacifico

Galerias Pacifico

This is where I’m going to try to give the skeleton version of events, and I’ll go into more detail later. The next two full days we had there were amazing, on Tuesday we toured the city, getting to see both the rich and poor areas, we visited a cemetery home to Evita, that was more like a small town filled with mausoleums, coffins on display for all to see, saw the church where Pope Francis worked (work seems like the wrong word…) before he was the Pope, the parliament buildings where the President worked and arrived in his helicopter, visited the tourist orientated town of La Boca, and that evening went to a Tango lesson, dinner and watched a show in the restaurant (where some may have had a few to many glasses of wine on top of their Argentine Mojito), before returning home at around 1am. The late night would have been fine if it weren’t for the fact that I didn’t sleep for even a second so I made the most of the time by practicing my Spanish and sorting out all of my photos into albums. It got to about 4am when i decided that I would go for a walk and try to get to the roof, which I may have been able to, however the second I saw the dimly lit top floor at the top of the stairs I promptly speed walked back to the safety of my bed and waited for it to get light.

Cementerio de la Recoleta

Resting place of Evita

Pink house in Buenos Aires

Church of Pope Francis

La Boca

La Boca

Empanada and red wine after tango lesson

Basílica Nuestra Señora del Pilar

We (Lili and I) woke up about 8 so we went down to breakfast, which I still hadn’t got used to. We were greeted with a huge selection, different cereals, sweet and savoury croissants, bread, sliced french stick, ham and cheese, so many spreads including the famed dulce de leche, not to mention the selection of drinks and yoghurt and milk! Wednesday soon became my favourite day in Argentina so far, and words cannot describe how much I enjoyed it, and I think it’s safe to say that since then nothing has quite compared to that day. We went to Estancia Santa Susana, a ranch in Buenos Aires province, about an hour and a half drive from the city where we rode horses, were taken for a ride in a carriage, had a huge, huge Argentine BBQ which consisted of chorizo, black sausage, steak, a very large bit of chicken, bread rolls and 4 different salads, of course with wine and beer!

Riding before lunch

Argentine bbq

Riding with one of the gauchos

Gauchos in action

After lunch was where it got really great, it was the gauchos (cowboys/horsemen) time to shine. They did all sorts of cool things, directing the horses around and lining them up along the fence for photos, but the most impressive part was what they did next. It was a competition between the three men called Corrida de sorjita, which consisted of a small ring hanging from a frame, which they had to try to get on a wooden stick the size of a pen while cantering past it, then offering it to someone in the audience for a kiss. They were very skilled to say the least and one of them only missed twice out of about 10. Then one of them took some people for a ride around the paddock and everyone went their separate ways. Except for us who got to what I assume was make the most of the rotary name, and got to hang around and three of the group were lucky enough to ride their own horse with one of the gaucho next to them. All in all the day was so amazing, being so close to the horses and the whole experience from the food to the place to almost getting bitten by a snake made the whole day unforgettable.

One of the gauchos at Santa Susana

Winner of Corrida de Sortija

Gauchos at Santa Susana

With Wednesday being our last day in Buenos Aires, and for everyone else, Argentina, we decided to go out for dinner one last time which once again was easier said than done. In an attempt to try to cover some new ground we walked a different way however soon enough, just like I predicted in my head we would as we headed in the usual direction, we ended up back at our original stomping ground until we stopped at burger king. Which would have been fine had we not been with a vegetarian, who wasn’t catered for by Burger Kings menu… Lily and I decided the three of us would keep searching for something else and meet the other at the park when we had got something, which ended up taking about an hour, until I finally convinced them that the way I was suggesting we go was in fact where all the food places were. Eventually we settled on pizza, but I was still full from lunch so I passed on anything for me (I told myself I was full but really I couldn’t speak enough to order). We made our way back to the park and soon found that everyone else was nowhere to be, and must have given up waiting. Much to our dismay we got back to the hotel to find that this was not the case, and the lack of data meant that we (Lily) had no idea where they were, until we heard the loud voice of John on the way back to his room. As it turned out they had been looking in every McDonald’s and pizzeria they could find but gave up when it got to 12 and headed home, but all is well that ends well and soon it turned into a party in our room with Lily and John eating the left over Squiggles, Alexis teaching Hugh some Tahitian dance moves from Norfolk Island while Aotea and I quietly watched the madness from my side of the room.

Once we were sure everything was packed with only the things needed for the morning left out, it was about 2:30 when we went to sleep, until we got the wake up call at 3:45 so we quickly got dressed, painted on our faces and scurried downstairs for a coffee before we packed the bus and left for the airport. You’ll notice I didn’t mention handing the swipe cards back… that was because we forgot. It took me until I took my phone case off and found the card to realise my mistake, and from what I heard on the bus, others had done the same, finding them in pockets and all sorts of other ‘safe’ places. Just as last time did, the airport process went smoothly, even if it was difficult to understand at some times, but after I took out my New Zealand passport, everything seemed to go a lot more smoothly. We took some photos before we parted ways but then it was off in our separate directions, but I was lucky enough to get the details of the Amazing Laura should any thing go wrong. The only tricky part was putting my bags through the X-ray and me through the metal detector, as I could hear no word of English being spoken, so I copied the actions of those in front of me, putting my bags down with a smile and waiting for the nod of a head before walking through and collecting them on the other side. Or so I thought, this was before my bracelet set off the alarm (of course it was going to wait until I was out of an english speaking area) which required a swift pat down but once it was decided that I wasn’t carrying a gun or a bomb I was on my merry way. All that was left to do now was wait for the next leg of my journey to begin…

A sad but excited goodbye to Lili at the airport

That’s all from me for now, the next time I write it’ll be about flying to Cordoba, arriving in Capilla Del Monte and all the adventures I’ve had here so far.

Chau – Jacqui Philp