More fun south of 10 borders

Last week when I was on the Subte I witnessed violence.  Girl on girl violence.  More specifically- middle-aged woman on old-aged woman violence.  Argentines can be wildly crazy about their Subte.  Stuffed full of people as usual we approached a stop and a couple people started trying to maneuver to the door to exit.  Although, since there is no room to maneuver this is more often than not an exercise in pushing people and sometimes saying, “Excuse me”.  The doors opened and some people hadn’t yet exited before a wave of zombies started rushing to enter, even though there was no space.  Some men said, “Wait, some people are trying to get off.” Everyone stopped but this old lady, she persisted.  To the rescue of the people trying to get off a middle aged woman placed her blackberry in her pocket and then punched the incomer in the chest.  The old lady flew back and was cushioned by the mass of hungry zombies.

Two weeks ago I visited two northern Argentine provinces, Salta and Jujuy.  We spent most of the time in Jujuy which has very diverse climate zones and is not Europeanized like Buenos Aires.  We were instructed by the program to consider bringing extra money to buy local artisanal products.  I was expecting some beautiful handmade items but instead found the same sweaters/jackets but in many colors.  I was feeling a bit sassy one day and walked into one vendor’s area and began singing in Spanish, “Bolivian factories, I love Bolivian factories…” Then the man interrupted me and said, “Peruvian factories”.  I’m glad at least he didn’t pretend to craft those sweaters I didn’t buy.

People are being violently robbed but don’t worry I have been working out.

What has Zeke been doing?!

Trying to refine my lucid dreaming so I can ultimately dream walk

·         Interviewing Madres de Plaza de Mayo Línea Fundadora (70-90 years old)

·         Learning to move my hips

·         Playing indoor soccer which means making obnoxious comments and jumping around

·         Shaving my face more than once a week

·         Becoming a socialist

·         Instigating dog vs. cat fights

·         Having an identity crisis: zech, zaki, zeek, ziggy, zik, zeke, lindo, alex, boludo, rubio, cheto, yanqui, fatty

·         Having class one to three days a week

·         Buying you gremlins things

·         Growing out my hair

Growing/Ranting

Yesterday was the International Worker’s day after a short meeting about a project we’re developing for Las Madres I passed through La Plaza de Mayo with a friend.  After pausing several times and wishing we brought our cameras (touristy) a lady approached us.  She presented a candy and I assumed she wanted money for it.  She didn’t, and gave us the candies because of the celebration.  Then she began to chat with us about normal things.  Suddenly and unexpectedly she asked what are our dreams, I was really surprised and had to think for a moment but then shared with her a dream.  She then hugged each of us and then all of us hugged for several moments, the random human contact and emotion were refreshing and rewarding.

Today in AIDS class several nonprofits joined us to discuss their work with HIV-AIDS in Argentina.  Two ladies representing a group called AMMAR really demanded my attention.  They are fighting for the legalization of “sex labor” or prostitution, although there is undesirable stigma associated with that word.  But not only the legalization, also equal worker rights and benefits.  I was initially really turned off and opposed, but then I began to think why am I opposed to this?  They aren’t infringing on anybody else’s rights, they merely choose to do something that is arguably morally objectionable.  But homosexuality, marijuana, and drinking alcohol are also morally objectionable to some people.  If prostitution was legalized, although it might seem like society would be filled with impropriety but perhaps instead society would be improved because the state could regulate it.  What people do with their lives and bodies outside of not infringing on other’s rights is not my business.

When I was meeting with some Madres today to discuss a project proposal we began chatting about Bin Laden, original, I know.  But I am so fundamentally perplexed that people are celebrating the death of one man, celebrating the fact that he was systematically murdered.  I don’t see any justice in that nor does that make the world safer, yet alone better.  The Madres agree and trust me these ladies have a more than respectable perspective, considering their child(ren) was/were abducted, tortured, and murdered and they don’t even know how nor could they do anything to stop it.  Yet these women don’t scream for murder or vengeance but instead justice, even though it’s a slow process it’s the process that doesn’t violate people’s fundamental human rights.  Something you would think the recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize would be aware of.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  You make me happy when skies are gray.  You’ll never know dear how much I love you.  Please don’t take my sunshine away.

Cordoba was okay

In Argentina we had another short vacation for Easter.  This will be a little mundane.  I left with two gringos to Córdoba Province.  We arrived Thursday morning in the city of Córdoba and explored the city.  

Then we left to a city called Villa General Belgrano which was settled by Germans.  

From there we were seeking the mountains and left for La Cumbrecita, a small mountain town.  

We; however, didn’t know it was the Disneyland for residents of Buenos Aires.  The place was a sea of Porteños.  I left Buenos Aires to escape what I ended up finding.  I did also find a gorgeous city that made me forget I was in Argentina.  Before then my view of Argentina was substantially clouded by Buenos Aires there is more to this country than one city, imagine that.  Of course there were no available rooms in the two hostels in the city, nor the numerous hotels.  We sat outside one hostel pressure by the fading light to make a decision.  Where to stay?  We kind of decided (and knew this would happen) to just bare the cold and sleep in mountains somewhere, somehow.  The owner of the hostel noticed we didn’t leave after they told us there wasn’t vacancy and offered to show us a place 45 minutes in the mountains with a tent and two sleeping bags.  The place was divine, I felt like I was in Ireland or something equally as magical.  

The man from the hostel left us with the night sky, a broken tent, and two sleeping bags for three people.  We opened the two sleeping bags place one on top of the tent and the other on us.  Every time one person changed directions of our cuddling everyone else woke and shifted, it was beautifully mechanical.  I am here to say that we didn’t die of the cold; the towels must have saved us.  We did hikes and other things and then came back to Buenos Aires.