Tang?

"What do you mean you don´t understand? What´s not to understand? What I said couldn´t have been more direct. I can only speak in one tense!" This is one token example of an expression I cannot yet put together in Spanish that would be useful in my daily life. I am pretty sure however that my facial expressions get this particular point across ust fine.
I have been easily aggrevated this weekend in conversational situations. Sometimes I feel as though my having learned so much this wek in class made the general situation worse. My first week here, when I was totaly aware and accepting of my status as a bumbling linguistically ignorant gringo, anything other than utter failure to communicate was a victory and an exception to the norm. But now I catch actually patch together a coherent thought or two. I grasp the grammer. I know enough to believe that I am saying something correctly and therefore able to become disolusioned under the blank stare of a baffled porteño.
It´s really not so bad after breakfast. On the streets the language has started to sing. Mornings are tough. I truly like the folks I stay with, Jorge and Racquel. But they share a number of similarities with George´s parents on Seinfeld. Racquel especially. She even looks similar. Now imagine: 8am; I´ve had neither coffee nor a bite to eat; I stumble out of my room, "Que tal John? Como andás? Dormiste bien? Bueno!" etc. I start groping for a complete sentence betwen bites of dulce, draining an entire thermos of hot water into my mate. Again, don´t take any of this to mean I don´t ejoy breakfast or the company of either of these two. It´s just that communication breakfast at desayuno--before mate for god sakes!--can wear a guy down.
Many mornings, probably as some sort of defense mechanism against the foreign barrage, I hold an inner dialogue in my native tongue. The entertainments and topics vary: what I plan to do that day; rocking to a mental recording of The Rolling Stones´"Lov´n Cup"; pondering the orange beverage that I drink every morning and seem to be acquiring a dependence for. As a kid my mom would serve my brother and I a "glass of sunshine" with breakfast in the morning. Now, if OJ is sunshine this stuff is light at the grocery store. After much field observation I believe it to be of the genus Tang, but I can´t be sure. I have gone so far as to search the cupboards while Jorge and Racquel are away, and turned up nothing. I have begun to crave it in the afternoon. Not good.
This afternoon I´ll be heading up north to the barrio Recoleta to watch soccer ar a bar called Total Fútbol. This afternoons game, Boca v. River Plata, is probaly thebiggest match in Argentine fútbol. The rivalry is deep and intense. I tried to buy a ticket but didn´t act fast enough. So I´ll be screaming and yelling at a bar instead. For any other game I would go to a small neighorhood joint. But unlike in the US where decent TV´s are the norm, most places here have one or two if any and today they will be packed with die hard regulars. I´m likely to be ejected if I try to push forward to a decent vantage point in one of these places. So I´ll go to Total Fútbol. TV´s everywhere I hear. If I can find a seat I´m good to go. I´ll be wearing blue. Go Boca!

These are a couple pictures I shot last week at the Recoleta Cemetary down the way from the bar I´ll be at today. Beautiful, historical place. Look it up. And I apologize that they aren´t right side up. I haven´t got to figuring out how to fix that yet. Stay tuned.



A call for emails: Any of you whose emails I don´t have--limit individuals I like--drop me a line so I know how to get a hold of you. The only emails I do have are from those of you who attended the party in Iowa and wrote it down. Ciao.