Quilmes!

Tuesday, July 14th

I woke up thinking – today is Quillmes day! Maria Laura called me crazy tonight for accepting that job. But I took it as a compliment because she also said that other people, when the country closes down for the swine flu, would’ve stayed home….but I go to Quilmes.

I took my time getting dressed and such, and then I went to the Roadhouse Office to use the Internet and such. After that, I was going to order some food from Sabores, but my phone apparently ran out of minutes. Well, the card lasted about 6 weeks, so that’s good since I bought another one for my last 6 weeks! I bought it from the vendor on the Roadhouse street…he knows me now, and we also exchange friendly, generic pleasantries typically involving the weather.

After that, I bought a Gatorade and then headed home. I packed up my backpack and headed to the subte. I had reviewed the “chosen path” a few times so hopefully I wouldn’t have to pull out my map in public. So the ride on the D line was fine, and then I got off at 9 de Julio and followed the mob to the connecting C line. It was my first time doing the whole connecting subte thing, but it went well. That is, until I hear the “zip” noise behind me. You know the sound that backpacks make when they’re being unzipped. So I jerk around really fast, and this guy brushes past me, and no one else is near me, so I think I just made it up. K, stop being paranoid Lara.quit imagining noises. So I pull my backpack around, por las dudas, and guess what – my second pocket was unzipped. So I quickly zip it (it’s a good thing I’m a senior Aggie now and can say zip all I want) and look around for that guy, who totally makes sketchy eye contact and starts to inch away. The skirting away is weird because everyone is just standing around waiting for the subte; he was the only one moving through people. So obviously there was nothing to be done, but I did observe him, and I never would’ve guessed he was a pickpocketer. He looked like a traveler with his own backpack partially unzipped. I guess it’s easier to stuff stuff that way. I also don’t know how no one around me noticed what he was doing, but I suppose either he is really good or they were too preoccupied with their own happenings.

That really shook me up. I’m in reflect about it mode now, but at the time I was almost shaking. Rest assured – I don’t keep anything in that pocket. I’ve been warned before that my backpack is a pickpocketer’s ally, so yea. And I checked later and nothing seemed to be missing. So I got on the next line, the C line, which was my first time not being on the D line, and it was quite a difference. It was interesting though, because the car was older, but then it had electronic signs announcing the next stop, which the D line definitely doesn’t have because I’ve often wished that it did.

So I was standing at first, and then I got to sit after the next stop. Still probably about 5 minutes since almost pickpocketed incident. And this little gypsy kid, this dirty dirty little kid, maybe 5 years old, seriously lays down next to me on the bus, with his head almost in my lap. And I’m just freaking out for several reasons. 1) My mind jumps to figure out if he’s trying to somehow pickpocket me. 2) Swine flu. I don’t want to be paranoid, but I feel like the blackened fingernails would be a good place for something like that to hide. Bah, many things, not just a flu. 3) Who let’s this kid spend all day riding through a subte? So when the subte takes off again, he hops up and begins to walk through the car. I must admit, my first thought was “I’m not in Recoleta anymore”, and I began to wonder exactly HOW sheltered my time here has been by living in such a ritzy neighborhood (aka it’s where Oprah stayed when she filmed some stuff down here). I also began to wonder if I’ve really gotten the real experience.

As this little kid walked by, his hand nonchalantly brushed my knee. He didn’t even notice. I’m pretty sure he was sick or drugged or extremely hungry by the way he was walking. It made me cringe though, and then I just felt horrible for being scared of this little child. I’m scared of his germs, and I’m scared of his poverty. Of looking at him and admitting that I just rode that subte and did nothing to help him and now I have the privilege to come back to my computer and record the memory.

One older lady gave him some cookies, and as she sweetly handed them to him and said, “sabes lo que es? Alfajores….son dulces” She gave him some sweet cookies. And he didn’t even change expression, didn’t get excited or anything. I just wanted to hug him and steal him away from that subte, but then we reached my stop and I left him sitting looking at his alfajores.

It gets overwhelming though. Even in Recoleta, the nicest neighborhood, you probably have two to three people who sleep in doorframes every night. And the old ladies with bad teeth who post up outside of shops during the day. How do you know who really hasn’t eaten in days or who really is mentally unstable or who is just lazy and won’t work. And should that matter?

My subte trip lasted about 25 minutes, but it left me with things that I’m still pondering. Thankfully the train station was connected to the subte station. I had no idea how to buy a ticket, but I kept telling myself that this would be one of those things that is stressful the first time and then just becomes habit so I just needed to chill. I got in the wrong line first, but I corrected myself before I got to the front.

Once in the right line, I checked with the lady in front of me just to double-check. And she was like, if you have moneda, go to the fast line. So I went up, and I checked how much the ticket was going to cost. I was prepared to pay with my credit card if it cost too much….the company said they would reimburse me. Well, it only cost 1,80 for ida y vuelta! That was great news. I purchased my ticket, then headed directly to the information table and asked the guy where I needed to go. It was 1:20, and I knew a train left at 1:30, so I wanted to waste no time trying to figure it out in my typical get lost first pattern.

He directed me to a gate, where I passed through and my ticket was punched, after which I entered the world of Harry Potter. For the minute walk to my train, I was in the movie at Platform 9 and ¾. It was so cool! The train were all coming and going and then there was mine, and I just had to hop in a door! I got in, but then I got nervous that maybe I wasn’t on the right one. I don’t have the best of luck direction-wise. I asked a guy if the train went to Quilmes, and he said yes. I sat down and attempted to take up the entire space because there were some shady people on the train and I didn’t want some scam-artist to sit down next to me and rob me while I was reading. Like I said, by this part of the trip I was totally paranoid.

I pulled out my book and was going to read, but the changing scenery was fascinating. There were about 6 stops between the station and Quilmes. At first it still seemed like the city, but then it started to change. Also, people were walking up and down the train selling things. The way people do it here, and on the subte, is that they’ll place the item being sold on your knee and walk down all the car leaving it for people. Then, they’ll come back and you’ll either have pulled out money or they’ll take back the item. It’s actually quite annoying, but it’s a constant. So this group of kids walks in the door, and they don’t look too dirty, but they’re talking and stuff, and my immediate thought is – gypsy kids. 4 countries in, and I finally see these gypsy kids that my mom kept harping on before I left for France. One of them makes eye contact with me and inches over, and I pretty much had to share my seat. I try to read while at the same time keeping an eye on my pockets, but then I notice that this girl is intently reading my book. I asked her – le gusta leer? And she just starts reading my John Grisham book (granted, it’s in Spanish). And as she attempts to pronounce the words and I’m helping her, I don’t know, it just was one of those moments that will stand out for me from this trip. After she read through a page, we started talking. Then her brother and sister came over. And the little one was sick I think, so I tried to keep my distance from her. They were all headed home, and they pointed out their mother across the aisle who looked dead tired probably after working and then taking care of the kids. We talked, and they were absolutely precious. They told me about their school, about their cats, and about how much English they knew. Bye-bye was a favorite word. I then enlisted their help. The train stops were poorly marked, and I was terrified I was going to miss my stop. So I asked them to tell me when we hit Quilmes. And commence precious part two, they were then like little instructors, and would seriously tell me, ok, you have three stops left, and then you get off. And I was so thankful for that. When we finally reached Quilmes, I told my new friends goodbye, threw a kind nod in the direction of their mother who had kept looking over as if to see if her kids were being bothersome, and stepped down. Quilmes is very different from Buenos Aires in that it is much smaller. The part I walked through really reminded me of Bryan, Texas, the old downtown cute part. I crossed the first street, then just walked a few blocks. I also think foreigners are rarer because people were staring more. I had to cross this major highway type road, which the part I had to cross was right after an overpass, so it was hard to see when the cars were coming. I crossed the first part of it, then got stuck in the middle, with huge buses sweeping by on either side, as I precariously perched on the middle raised curb thing, wishing that I had gone around instead of taking the most direct route. I finally made it through, but then got nervous that I wasn’t going the wrong way. So I popped into a kiosk and asked a guy how to get to my street. He was extremely nice and helpful and told me to keep going because I was going the right way. YAY!

I crossed the railroad tracks and saw the HUGE QUILMES factory on my left. So I knew when I reached the end of it that I had passed whatever office I was supposed to be going to. I called the number for Pablo, one of my students, and he directed me to the nondescript building I had passed. He led me in, and I set up shop. Luckily, I have a small, separate room with a dry-erase board. The classes are supposed to be set up with two intermediate students and then an hour and a half with two upper intermediate students. However, I ended up having my class with one from each. At first, I didn’t really notice a difference, but then the upper-intermediate student really started to dominate the conversation and I could tell that the intermediate one was definitely deferring to him. We chatted about what they were interested in for a while and what they do. See, they’re all IT people. And Quilmes is actually owned by the same company that owns Budweiser. Mild tangent. But so they act as the middlemen for big companies and smaller ones. I didn’t really catch more than that because between my lack of IT knowledge and their difficulties translating to English, it got lost. But I did get that they work with lots of international people, the actual company is from India, so they are outsourced, and they need to improve improve improve! I did throw in the fact that my dad was IT for Shell and such, so I could contribute some to the discussion. I was nervous throughout the class because obviously these guys are smart! And they’re distinguished in their careers, and I’m some upstart college kid here to teach them? But it went really well, and I think they enjoyed it. I reused my lesson from TEFL class about traffic in Argentina; I just tweaked a few things. Towards the end we had to stretch it a bit, but overall I think they were interested.

I did notice a bit of seeming disdain from the intermediate student, which at first I mistook as the typical Argentine male …I don’t need to learn from a woman. However, I’ve been thinking about it some more, and I think it probably had more to do with my age, and it’s probably not the most dignifying thing as a 30-something year old to take English lessons from a 20yearold (almost 21!!). I’m going to try to be really sensitive to that, although aside from just sucking up his seeming “whateverness”, I don’t know what else I can do. The other guy was really friendly, but he was also older.

As I got ready for the second class, the guys came in and said they wouldn’t be able to have the class today because they had reports due. I was fine with that because I have fixed pay so it shouldn’t affect that, but I still asked them to send my boss an email saying that they cancelled, not me. One of the guys also told me that this Friday they have a meeting, so all four of them will be in the class at once. Once again, that’s fine with me because I get off early.

After that, I headed home, which I was really glad that I got to head home with the sun still out for my first day. I made it to the train station with ease, but then I ran into difficulties. I first tried to enter the wrong platform. Then, I couldn’t figure out how to get to the other side. So I started following people. And I followed this one nice-looking family, but then they kept walking, and lots of people were walking the other way away from this platform, so I abruptly changed paths and started walking against the flow of traffic up towards the platform. I basically walked up the tracks. I found out that was completely illegal when I saw the signs saying absolutely don’t do that. I was already on the platform, none of the guards had seen me, and I didn’t know what to do. I went up to one of them, with the purpose of openly admitting my guilt and hoping my gringo innocentness would get me out of trouble, and I was almost on the brink of tears, and I went up to this guy and said, pienso que soy mal, and bless this sweet man, because he just smiles and is like, No, you’re right! ….I don’t think he realized that I came up the train tracks and not through the entrance. And he punches my ticket and that was that. I did notice that everyone else was coming up to the platform from underground. Apparently there’s an entrance somewhere which I will need to find on Friday. For serious. A train came, but I wasn’t sure if they all went back to the station, so I asked that same guard, and he was like, yes, take this one, and stay on it until the very end, ok? And again, I was so thankful. Simple kindness like that goes so far when you’re feeling really lost.

On the way back, I didn’t even take out my book. I just looked out the window and watched the scenery. I feel like I was watching the real Argentina. There were houses and there was trash and there were kids playing soccer and there were horses. There were places where I felt like I could really be useful. Where I wouldn’t just be teaching English to businessmen who could afford it, but to people who could use it to potentially secure a better, or even competitive, job, and who might not have the opportunity to learn it otherwise. I’ve loved my BA experience, but the part of the country that was passing me was a part that my heart just calls out to. It’s a part that would actually need me, that I could love on, as opposed to just teaching businessmen English.

I’m so thankful that I took this job in Quilmes. Even if the rest of the month sucks, that one trip helped me discover something I already knew – I can appreciate a city, but I can’t give my heart to a city. My heart goes out for things like small towns with character and the real people and their real stories and how I can contribute. It’s an important thing to know, and I don’t know if that makes sense, but it does to me. It’s how I feel fulfilled.

The train made it back, after which I navigated through the subtes and back to my house. I ate some rice, then headed to the Roadhouse and bummed the Internet. I also received a call from Monica about a new student to start tomorrow morning. So all of the sudden, I had two students tomorrow. Yay!