for you (i'm sorry)

something suddenly became clear to me while i was attempting to read for school and of course my random thoughts usually take precedent. plus, any excuse not to learn more law is good enough for me.

i got to thinking about the universe and circumstances. why is it that some people constantly find themselves in shitty situations? why are some people always coming out winning? the answer: because they want to be.

i mean, are we really supposed to believe that its all just random chaos? psshh. not a chance. because theres just no chance that there are some who are luckier than others, or some that are worse off (this is speaking in the greatest metaphorical sense: obviously someone who lives in a slum in cambodia is worse off than your average joe). no, i've decided that we MAKE our circumstances. everything we do, everything we've done, has gotten us where we are right at this moment.

when i think about my life and the places its led me to, when i think about the times i've despaired or the times i've been completely and utterly enthralled with life, i realize its all just a framework for today. today is all that matters. so if today sucked, thats okay. if today was awesome, even better.

there's always tomorrow.

to do list

so you say you wanna write more? now's your chance.

a funny thing's been happening to me lately, something catherine says occurs only when i have finals. there are no finals, i'm in a foreign country, and my fucking head is spinning.

and i don't know why.

perhaps its because my head is the very thing i cant seem to get out of. i feel this constant state of anxiety, where i'm obsessing about not having enough time, not knowing what i wanna do, and am i drinking too much? i'm definitely smoking too much. yeesh.

see, the novelty of being somewhere new has started to wear off. i properly live in buenos aires now. i even have residency. huge. i've set into a routine, with deadlines and articles and classes and tests. TADA! the proverbial light bulb switches on: nicole HATES order. only chaos makes me feel sane.

and yes, i am freaking out about that realization as well.

you see, coming here was meant to be a period of growth and self-realization. and boy has it been: i'm starting to realize that i'm just a little bit crazy. a whirlwind of passion, drugs and alcohol. disorganized, often sloppy, and just a touch too loud. i don't think-i just do. and the thing is, i've always been this way and perhaps have gotten a bit better about not involving others in my locuras, and i'm sorry to say but..

i like it.

yup, that's right. i've decided the only way to stop freaking out about all the things i don't do or all the things i do wrong is to embrace the fact that that's just ME. i run into things and i'm exceptionally late and i always manage to make a mess at the dinner table. i should never have had that last drink and i pick all the wrong men, but man was it worth it to combine the two. my room is messy, i'm bad with money, and fuck me i forgot yet again. the most important thing to remember here is that i'm doing just fine.

hell, i'm better than fine.

shopgirl

yesterday was the kind of day that leaves a mark in your heart, with ideas spilling out of me like water out of a faucet. i spent the day roaming buenos aires with Jessica and Anna, a friend of Jess's from California. She came to stay in buenos aires for about a week before she would continue to travel Peru and Ecuador.

the night before, i had to review a bar in Retiro and i invited them along. after several cocktails we had dinner at Dadá, a bistro in the Microcentro, where we drank and ate to excess before deciding to head back to Palermo for more drinks, which proved to be a terrible idea because the next day I woke up with the worst hangover I have had in months. Determined to make something out of Anna's last day in Buenos Aires, we finally ripped ourselves out of bed around 2 pm, with a plan to go to La Boca and then the Recoleta market before Fuerza Bruta, round two. of course, being Buenos Aires, we completely changed those plans mid-walk and wound up doing lunch and lesiurely shopping. Nothing about that seems particularly inspiring or even unconventional to the norm, but for some reason ideas were popping in and out of my head all day as i continue to struggle with the question that burns daily in my brain and refuses to blow out, like a trick candle on a birthday cake: "WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE?"

I am about 18 credits away from earning a law degree. A degree I did not work that hard for because I decided long ago I did not want to be a lawyer. If I could name the one regret I have in life, it's that I spent the last three years working towards something I truly don't believe I'm going to become. All those years I could have spent writing, I spent studying. I know it's terrible to look back that way and regret, but I just can't help it. At any rate, I am about to graduate which means I'm about to run out of excuses. And that realization has been tickling my nerves and anxiety to the point of terrifying, especially because I am enjoying my time here so much and have no immediate plans to return to the states.

Since I have been here, I've changed my mind most everyday about what I want to do. Some days, I want to open a restaurant. Others, get an art history degree and own a gallery. Sometimes, I step way outside the box and ponder the idea of acting or singing, childhood dreams I never chased because they seemed so unrealistic, but at this point seem worth a shot because there's nothing to lose. Most days, I dream of a writing career, working for newspapers, magazines and the like while writing that life-changing novel. All my friends reading this right now are probably chuckling to themselves and muttering something like "Oh Nic.." but like I've said before, being here has taught me that in order to be happy, you have to be a little crazy. Take a chance. Go against the grain. And since I've pretty much made a career out of challenging what's normal and conventional to most, I figure I'll continue on that path and fuck the rest.

so yesterday, Jessica and I were discussing The Sartorialist, a fashion blog that photographs well-dressed New Yorkers and blogs about their style. Just then, we passed an Argentine girl whose look made me want to spend every cent I had saved on clothes, and in a stroke of genius I said to Jessica: "Oh my god, Jessica! Why don't we start a fashion blog in Buenos Aires?!" Jessica, like me, is living in Buenos Aires indefinitely and has high hopes and big dreams of realizing greatness. Plus, we're soul mates. She erupted immediately with, "Nicole, I have been thinking the same thing!! Can we really do this?" We took the idea and ran with it for the rest of the day, deciding we'd print some cards and start stopping fashionistas on the street immediately. We brainstormed about how we could turn this into a business someday, by generating advertising from local boutiques.

Yes, I know. None of it makes any sense. One day I want this, the next that. But that's not the point of telling you about yesterday's inspirations. The point is that along with yesterday's inspirations came a realization: that life and finding what you want out of it is about trying. trying everything that comes to your brain, that seems like something you'd be good at or could enjoy doing. because until you try, you won't know. and if you try hard enough, eventually you'll find something so unbelievably gratifying, you'll wonder why it took you so long to figure it out.

After Fuerza Bruta, soaking wet and exhausted, Jess and I decided to stay in, order sushi and watch a movie. I don't know why but a movie called Shopgirl popped into my head, a film I had watched years ago when I was living with Joey that I remembered had inspired something in me about finding love. It was something I knew we both needed to watch that day, and the film invoked the same emotions and gave a new hope: that love, in all its forms, be it romantic or career-driven or just love for life, is just around the corner.

sin la locura...

Pardon me for not writing, but the last month of my life has been absolute locura. A fucking kilombo. The best month of my life.

Sometimes I think about how happy I am living in Buenos Aires that I start to panic at the thought of not living there. The city so agrees with me, from the culture to the people to the glorious food and fantastic nightlife. It’s the only city I’ve ever been where you’re automatically welcomed and engaged, and the city wraps you up in a frenzy, of feeling alive, of feeling at home, of feeling like the best possible version of yourself. At least, that’s what it does for me.

Sad as it seems, I was distraught to put the breaks on this torrid affair I’m having with Buenos Aires in order to do some traveling. Imagine that, being sad to leave a city in order to discover a new one! I quickly packed on Monday morning before my flight, forgetting a million things and only mildly excited for Uruguay. I was going with Miss Stephanie Osgood Choate, I say her whole name because in order to know the fabulosity that is Miss Stephanie Osgood Choate, you need all the facts. She and I had decided we wanted to travel on a short hiatus we had from our respective jobs, and poorly researched going to Peru, Bolivia and Brazil. Because of this last minute, poor planning, we decided instead to go to Uruguay. It’s not that I didn’t want to go to Uruguay, because I absolutely did. But winter in Uruguay isn’t exactly the season to visit, considering it’s fucking freezing. We decided to fly into Montevideo and spend a few days there before Punta del Este, an island off the coast that gets absolutely insane in the summers. Then we’d spend a peaceful day in Colonia, a quaint little colonial town before heading back to Buenos Aires. We reasoned that we needed a vacation from our vacation, where we could relax and decompress from our chaotic Argentine lives. Ever since I met Miss Stephanie Osgood Choate, it’s been an endless parade of amazing dinners and too-late nights, the kind that leave you waking up laughing and dragging yourself to brunch because there’s nothing to eat in your house, because there’s not enough time to put your social calendar on hold in order to go grocery shopping. So, the fucking kilombo that has been my life was to be paused for a week in frigid Uruguay.

How quickly I did remember that Miss Stephanie Osgood Choate is not the kind of woman that lets you relax. When we got to Montevideo, we went in search of a restaurant and landed on Don Peperone, the Uruguayan version of Friday’s, because it was the only place open save a couple of bars along the same street. At dinner, we polished off a bottle of wine and a glass of whisky before heading to El Pony Pisado where there was a live cumbia band. Several drinks later, we’re conga-lining with a huge Uruguayan family and dancing our embarrassing version of salsa for them. The next day, after a fantastic lunch at The Manchester, a very authentic spot frequented only by locals, where we enjoyed a Uruguayan chivito (a delicious grilled steak sandwich that has cheese, lettuce, tomato, red peppers, onions, mayo, mustard and ketchup), we found ourselves being pushed and squished in the middle of a massive street parade welcoming home the Uruguayan futbol team and their beloved captain, Diego Forlan. Hours later, having dinner at La Perdiz, in walks Diego Forlan, in all his glory. The restaurant erupts in cheers and applause and we down our drinks to muster up the courage to ask him for a photo. Later that night, at the only casino in Montevideo, which is really the only thing to do in Montevideo on a Tuesday night, Miss Stephanie Osgood Choate wins thousands of dollars (DOLLARS, not pesos) and sends the entire casino into a panic.

Agreed that we had done Montevideo right, we left for Punta del Este, or rather Punta Ballena, to our first hotel, Casapueblo. Casapueblo was designed by a famous Uruguayan artist, Carlos Paez Vilaró, who just so happens to be a friend of Miss Stephanie Osgood Choate’s father. Casapueblo houses the artist himself and his magnificient art, and the structure of Casapueblo very much resembles Gaudi’s home in Barcelona. The view is absolutely breathtaking, from our room you can see the waves crashing against the rocks, the mountains in the distance, with the perfect pocket for the sun to rest in the evenings. The hotel was empty, the restaurant closed, and reception advised we’d be hard pressed to find much open tonight. Refusing to be discouraged, we set out for El Puerto and found Lidoro, where I had the most delicious piece of fish I’ve had since arriving in the MeatLand. After dinner, we went to Moby Dick, a local dive bar and the only place open in Punta del Este on a wintery Wednesday. We befriended the bartender and a band of Brazilian sailors, closed down the bar, and hit a Uruguayan fiesta at a social club de deportivos (picture the kind of place that by day houses bingo games for the elderly, and by night transforms itself into a banging dance hall). Around 6 am, we stumbled out of the club and tried to figure out how the fuck to get home, considering our hotel was a solid 15 minutes away and there wasn’t a cab in sight. I don’t know how we managed, but the next day I woke up at around 1:30 in a t-shirt and my underwear, hysterically laughing because I had set the alarm for 10:30 the night before, screaming profanities about waking up in time for breakfast for once.

Hung over, we walked over the museum portion of the hotel to meet with the artist, Carlos Paez Vilaró. I was awe-inspired by his colorful yet simple art, by his life story, his world travels, and his beautiful home. Paez is about 86 years old and the most gentle man you can imagine. He was overwhelming us with hospitality, and even in his old age his playboy tendencies were showcased as he stroked my cheek. We got a grand tour of his home, which housed a mountain of books and art and sculptures and furniture, from all different corners of the earth. I read some of his poetry, pieced through his canvasses and just tried to swallow this man’s extraordinary life. There was one particular painting that stood out, not necessarily because of the art, but because of the words scribbled along the bottom: “Sin la locura, no hay grandeza.” It was then that I had a revelation: I would not waste even one more minute of my life doing something I don’t want to do, trusting that if I chase my passions, everything will work itself out. It was a perfectly enlightening afternoon, that taught me the lesson that traveling teaches best.

I still have 4 days left in Uruguay, and there’s no sign of slowing down. And even though this trip so far hasn’t been what it’s supposed to be about, it’s certainly one I do not regret taking. And, dear blog followers, do not fret: part of my revelation today was the resolution to write more, photograph more, reflect more. So, we shall meet again soon in Buenos Aires. Besos.

la educacion

i feel compelled to write tonight about the amazing people in buenos aires and their educacion, or what we americans would refer to as "politeness" or "etiquette." to us, it's too formal and unnecessary to our daily lives. but for argentines, la educacion is simple, natural and expected.

i've already told you about riding the subte and the buses, where everyone gives up a seat for the elderly or pregnant women. when you go to the stores here, people are overly helpful, they aren't annoyed when you ask them a question and they will downright accompany you to the aisle you're looking for whilst chatting about the weather. everyone wants to know where you're from and what you're doing in buenos aires, and they are always so pleased to have you.

but the reason i felt so obliged to write home about argentine courtesy is because i recently joined a gym in my neighborhood and i am pleasantly overwhelmed about how comfortable and amiable an environment exists at a place that in the states is usually the last place you are nice to someone. when you walk into a spin class, the instructor looks around the room, finds the new person in the room, introduces themselves and everyone in the class, then asks your name and gives you a kiss. tonight, i took a class called "functional training" and the instructor kissed everyone hello and made routines where we all worked as a team. by the end of the class, we were old friends--and naturally, we all got a kiss goodbye. you can just tell that everyone that takes classes in the gym knows each other and it's such a warm environment. which to me, is pretty much the complete and polar opposite of the feeling you get at american gyms. you feel like everyone is staring at you, you feel self-conscious, and no one wants to talk to anyone and groan when they have to wait for a machine.

i just think these experiences i've had at the gym say so much about the culture of being courteous in buenos aires, of opening yourself up and engaging other people; even complete strangers. every argentine person i meet wants to be my best friend. compare this to the american why-are-you-talking-to-me attitude (especially in miami!) and it makes me wonder why we don't take a note from our south american friends and adopt some educacion. because the only effect it has is to make people SMILE, and at the end of the day that's far more important than saving a minute or two of your "precious" time.

nicolasa emergente

it's been a semi-chaotic week and a half, setting down roots in my new life in buenos aires. last saturday i moved into my apartment in Palermo, and was finally able to stop living out of a suitcase. at least now, there's organized chaos in my oh-so-large bedroom. i spent the week exploring my new neighborhood, stopping in at the outlet stores and the not-so-outlet stores. i cracked mid-week and purchased an amazing leather jacket and a few tops that cost me less than $100 dollars total. i also joined a gym, started ballet classes, and looked into tango, salsa and photography classes. and you wonder why i never want to leave!

last week i also started work at the Argentimes. so far, it's basically been an orientation of the cultural, social and political history of Argentina. and man, this country is fuuuuuuucked up. wars, coup d'etats, economic crises--you name it, they've experienced it. and in the recent past, at that. it's actually kind of funny because the more i learn about this country's tumultous past, the more i want to be part of it and the more i begin to criticize the US. in fact, as of now there isn't a single thing i miss about the US, especially the disgusting consumer mindset and the apathy of our people to question their government and demand action. It seems as though everyone here is incredibly politically charged and opinionated, and that is so invigorating for me that I can't wait to get out there and learn as much as i possibly can. i'll get to cover all kinds of topics, from news and political editorials to restaurant reviews and nightlife. i can't think of a better way to experience this city that has so much left to uncover.

i suppose that after my third week here, the "sheen" so to speak has started to wear off. i no longer feel like i'm somewhere new, and have really begun to settle into my life here. i'm absolutely crazy about my roommates, there is such buena onda in the house it's crazy. people ask us if it gets hectic with so many people in the house but it doesn't at all. we all like to cook and do so together often, and we are cooking for some argentine girls we met at a party this thursday, as well as having an asado on sunday afternoon.

i'm also really crazy about living in such a culturally vibrant city. this weekend there was a music festival at the centro cultural called Ciudad Emergente, which was an indie rock/pop music festival with art and photography installations. it was SO my scene--hipsters everywhere, awesome music and pretty things to look at everywhere you went. the weather was absolutely amazing as well, with sunshine and temperatures in the mid 60s. i went to the markets this weekend and got an old Ciro Algeria book that's bound in leather and over a hundred years old, and some antique sun glasses plus something for my mom for her birthday.

but even through all these new experiences i am having, i feel like the road to finding myself is going to be a long one. being 23 just seems like such a goddamn confusing age, i'm not really a grown-up but definitely not a kid, and not knowing what i want can get really frustrating. for as much fun as i am having, i can't help but feel restless at the same time, waiting for something but having no idea what that something is. i think that traveling is the best thing i could be doing right now, especially alone, because the occasional loneliness mixed in with the accidental connection with a total stranger is teaching me more than any classroom or work environment ever could. i'm living in every single moment and taking it all for what it is, emerging into myself one day at a time.

vamos, cubana!

i think one of the best things about this city is its spontaneity and the effect its having on me. last night i went out for a bite to eat with holly and laura, two of my hostel friends. the weather turned mid-meal and we got stuck in the pouring rain, unable to squeeze onto a packed collectivo or hail a cab. soaked and freezing when we finally made it home, all i wanted to do was rip off my wet clothes, wrap myself in 18 blankets and enjoy the Iguana beer i had bought at a kiosco when i realized my night was probably shot to shit. I had planned to see a local band in Palermo, but on rainy nights like that I much prefer to stay in, and I knew everyone at the hostel would probably be doing the same thing.

I wrapped myself up just as planned and went downstairs, opened my beer and plopped myself on the couch next to los colombianos. just as i was starting to get comfy and mildly drunk, in walks juan. remember juan from the last post: he's the crazy ballerina that is literally mario jr.'s twin. he's a ball of uncensored energy, cursing and yelling profanities left and right, but he's a real stand-up guy and it's apparent from his infectious spirit. anyway, in he walks like a bat out of hell, sopping wet and complaining about the music they were playing on 9 de Julio (it's the bicenntenial anniversary of el dia de la revoluciontomorrow, so there's been a massive celebration all weekend on the city's main avenue). He had more beer with him and stuff for making pizza, which, by the way, was probably the best homemade pizza ever (for all you experimental chefs: PLEASE get your hands on a cheese that's named queso de santa brigida, i think it changed my life). Anyway, one liter turned into oh, about three. normally after a long night of getting stuck in the rain and drinking in my pj's, it'd be lights out. but around 1:30, when juan screamed, "vamos cubana! vamos a bailar salsa!" i shrugged my shoulders, ran upstairs and got dressed. in a city like buenos aires, where the action's abound, where any night could easily become one of the best nights ever, you have to be ready for anything.

i don't think i was ready for how much fun i had that night, doing a HORRIBLE job of keeping up with juan (i mean, the guy is literally a professional!) sweating my ass off, and watching everyone dance. i felt like i was in old Havana, men approaching women to dance, the women spinning wildly on the floor, shimmying their shoulders and throwing their heads back in the air con gusto. everyone was so unbelievably good that it makes me want to sign up for salsa lessons yesterday. i felt intensely connected to a part of me that i hadn't thought about in a long time: i pictured my parents when they used to dance salsa at parties and what not and it made me feel like i was home. more and more, buenos aires is becoming home, a home to that piece of me that for some reason has been stifled for years but is just bursting to come out.

that piece of me perhaps is the latina in me, but also the adventurous part, the fearless part of me that knows that you have to choose the path that feels right in that moment, even if that path leads you somewhere you weren't expecting. i have found myself in a very different situation than i have ever been in, one that has set me on fire but at the same time, one that i'm in no rush with at all. usually, i'm flying full force into this kind of thing, unable to control the urge to act on my impulses. but maybe you could say i'm "growing" in that sense, insistent on being patient and uncovering every layer of this one at a time.

i have devised four major trips that I am determined to take, in ordert o cover Brazil, Peru, Chile, Bolivia and Uruguay. If anyone is interested in joining me for any of them, you are more than welcome. bueno, hasta luego amigos!

la vida en Buenos Aires

as i'm writing tonight from a cafe around the corner from my hostel in Recoleta, i'm sipping a glass of vino tinto and desperately hoping I can recall every minute detail about this amazing city I am quickly falling in love with. From the second I arrived I felt at home: late as it was, I strolled through the streets to my friend Kelly's apartment and didn't feel an ounce threatened or afraid. At Kelly's place, we had some wine while she and Meredith gave me the lowdown on Buenos Aires and caught up on life. When i finally dragged myself home at 3:30, exhausted form traveling all day, I slept more soundly in my temporary bed than I had in months.

I awoke the next day and decided to go for a run before my meeting with Mariana, the women that helped arrange my internship at the Argentimes. I ran all along Montevideo, up to Corrientes Avenue, back down to Plaza Larrea and finally home. The streets of Buenos Aires are relatively easy to learn and after 2 full days here, I feel like I know my way around like a native. After my run, I met with Mariana at a cafe downstairs and we discussed my internship and stay in Buenos Aires. Then began the apartment hunting: I went to see three places, and got incredibly lost on a collectivo, or what they call the buses here. I rode it so far I almost left the city! The buses are far more difficult to understand here than the subway or even walking. None of the bus stops have a name or anything, so you sort of just have to know where you are or where you need to get off in order to get to where you're going. The Guia "T" is the grid system that gives you a map of the bus lines and stops, etc. It's kind of daunting but I'm sure once I'm more settled in, I'll be using the collectivos freely.

That night, I arrived back to the hostel at an impossibly late hour, but some of the guys staying there were just hanging out in the living area, eating dinner and watching tv. I plopped down next to Manuel and William, two impossibly adorable brothers from Colombia, who were joined by Juan, this crazy Argentine ballerina who I swear is the spitting image of my schizophrenic brother, with a personality to match. (Side note: while I've been here, I have met so many people that resemble faces from home. I wonder why that is?)

Just sitting around with these guys, I realized how impossibly happy I am to be in such a different culture. Everyone speaking spanish, dancing bachata, talking shit. I was surprised at how well I could keep up with the witty banter, and I have to say that so far no one thinks I'm anything but Argetinian and I have gotten many compliments on my spanish.

Something I've noticed about this place is that the people are insanely courteous, genuine and friendly. For example, its custom to give up your seat to an elderly person or a woman with a child. I've seen this happen more than 5 times in the two days I've been riding the subways and buses (I can't think of ANYWHERE in the US where you see this happen.) Also, I have spent literally NO money since I've been here: before I left, I changed 300 dollars into pesos. I spent 131 american dollars on my tariff to enter the country, and in the last 2 days I have eaten out for every meal, drank alcohol, taken taxis, subways and buses, bought a hair dryer (I blew my supposed universal blow dryer out within 10 minutes of being here) a couple of adapters, took a pilates class, and went grocery shopping and I still haven't needed to visit an ATM. I bought the MOST delicious pear I have ever eaten and it cost me but 10 cents. The empanadas which are bar none the best I've ever had cost about 40 cents. And the wine runs at about $3 a glass. I haven't done anything but window shop but the prices on clothes are also inexpensive: there are a million things I want, none of which costs over $50, and that includes coats, jackets and shoes.

THE MEN: even the bums are attractive. I'm falling in love around every corner. I was warned before I came that they would be aggressive, and they sure as hell are- and then some. I have never been stared at, cat called, or whistled at so much in my entire life. Sometimes it's absolutely obnoxious, but when it's this beautiful man with wavy hair, light eyes and a sharp suit, I welcome it. At any rate, it still intimidates me and I find myself looking away even when I would otherwise be interested. I have met soo many men in the short time that I've been here, but at this point all I really care to do is experience this city alone and find myself in some thing before I find myself with some one.

Yesterday I decided to continue my apartment hunting and took the subte down to Palermo, where I encountered Plaza Serrano, which is this awesome round-a-bout filled with bars, restaurants, and bo-ho chic clothing stores-aka, my heaven. I arrived at Cordoba 4944, rang the bell, and walked into my future home. It's an older 5-bedroom house, with an open upstairs terrace and an incredible view of the city from the roof. the bedroom was huge, lined up and down with windows that fill the room with natural light and a cool breeze, and leads out to the terraza that's lined with plants and fresh herbs for cooking.

A guy named Ramsey owns the place, a twenty-something from DC who bought it a couple years ago and is currently living in the bedroom that's to be mine. He's spent the last 10 or so years traveling the world, living in Argentina, Germany and Syria. In the house lives Jessica from Los Angeles, Yasmin from Australia, Alex from France, and Sebastian from Chile, and the combination of the spectacularity of the place plus the buena onda that I get from these people made me realize this was home. Let's just put it this way: I went to see the place at 3:00 pm, and wound up staying the whole night, drinking yerba mate, cooking lentils and vegetables with some of the fresh herbs grown in the terrace, and going out to Club 69 with Jessica and Ramsey for a drag show and dancing until 6:30 am. I love the fact that they are all here to do the same thing I am, that we're all from such different backgrounds and that we are all immersing ourselves in Argentine culture. I wish you all could see this place too! (photos to come soon) It's exactly what I wanted and for $450 bones a month. It's so rustic and open and very Buenos Aires. It's nearby a gym, yoga studio, organic market, amazing restaurants, bars and shopping, and even a dance studio. As soon as I move in, I'm starting tango lessons and Alex and I are doing an "exchange," something thats very common here. All it means is that I will help Alex with spanish in exchange for her helping me with French-and this can be done with anything and everything. For example, Ramsey has an exchange with a guy who teaches him guitar in exchange for helping him with english.

That's another thing I absolutely love about this city: classes and exchanges are plentiful and extremely inexpensive. I can more than afford tango lessons, photography classes, yoga, pilates, language classes, you name it. Between the classes, the amazing produce markets, the bustling nightlife, the customs and the extraordinary people, I am feeling so happy and alive I can hardly stand it.

Today I woke up veryyy late for me: 1:30 pm. That's the lifestyle here, everyone wakes up late and I can't say I mind it. I dressed and had a milanesa napolitana, a fried steak sandwich with ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato. Then I decided enough was enough and did some grocery shopping and headed back to the hostel to pick up my camera and drop off my food. I spent the afternoon roaming the city and taking photos, and encountered Gardelito, a quasi-famous guitarist from Buenos Aires who insisted on showing me his mounds of newspaper clippings and strummed me a tango on his guitar. Tonight I'm meeting Rocio, the Argentine girl whose apt I initially went to see (though this other place turned out a better deal, me and Rocio really hit it off!) and we are joining some of her friends for drinks in Plaza Serrano.

A few other tidbits: yerba mate is a grassy tea that everyone drinks here and its such a unique thing. You have this one steel cup with a steel straw, and in the cup is this bitter tea that has grass (literally, yerba means grass) floating in it. You fill a separate thermos with hot water and one person (and only one, thats part of the custom) fills the cup with the hot water, drinks the whole cup, fills it again and passes it to the next person. The tea gives you energy and it's supposed to be a social thing. Speaking of energy, the energy of challenging authority and government here in BsAs is another thing I love. Yesterday there was a protest on Avenida Sante Fe, a major street here and people were chanting and carrying signs with pictures of Che Guevara. Also, the pastries here are absolutely divine. I resisted until today, when I had an alfajore, a powered sugar cookie sandwich with a dulce de leche filling. And of course, the meat is the best I've eaten, tender and delicious and inexpensive. Also, I love the fact that there's no one-stop shop for anything, and that I'm not married to my phone. Not having accessible internet, email and Facebook makes me realize how much life you miss when you're constantly checking your messages. The only thing that's disappointed me thus far is the fact that Buenos Aires is surprisingly humid, even in winter. Will I ever escape bad hair days?!

I am so unbelievable happy to be here and will write again soon. This weekend, and carrying on into Tuesday is the bicentenario, or the 200th anniversary of Revolution Day which completely changed Argentine government. Parades, music, parties galore. Then on Wednesday, I start work at the Argentimes (interestingly enough, me new roommate Jessica was treated to a free dinner because a friend of hers that works for the Argentimes got a meal comped because she was writing a food review-yes this is what I get to do!!) I feel so at home and so far everyone has been wonderful and welcoming, and I looove espeking the espanish. Love to you all from BsAs! <3

When there's nothing left to burn...

You have to set yourself on fire.

After months of scheming, planning and organizing details big and small, the day is here. In just a couple of hours I will be boarding a plane to Buenos Aires. The adventure of my lifetime.

I arrived at the airport exactly two hours early for my flight only to find it was delayed until 1 pm. waaa. the first bump of what I'm sure will be many, I'm anxiously tapping my toes at the airport starbucks sucking down black coffee and incessantly checking my watch. i'm so excited i can hardly stand it but even then, none of this seems real. it probably won't until the plane takes off.

saying goodbye wasn't as difficult as i thought it would be (maybe it's because i get to leave!) i didn't cry at all and i don't feel scared or emotional. just READY. ready to start something new, something completely different and unconventional. the idea that i will be speaking an entirely different language is exhilirating. the thought of getting lost on the subway titilates me. and not having any sort of agenda or plan for what's going to happen or what i'm going to do or who i'm going to meet makes me feel like I'm doing the only thing I could be doing. For so long, I have felt restless and unsatisfied, bored with the everyday and desperate for a change. my life in miami is wonderful, my friends are amazing and my family is great..blah blah blah. none of that changed the fact that i needed a change of scenery, a fresh start where no one knows my name, or what i was like as a child, or how many times I crashed my car or embarassed myself. and here it is, staring me in the face: the change i promised myself a thousand times i would make.

i titled this blog after a line i heard in a song once. i think it applies so perfectly here because that's exactly how i feel about my life in miami. i've seen and done it all, i've made the best of friends and had amazing experiences. miami is and always will be home, but i've taken all that I can from her and it's time to move on and start the next chapter. Everything I've known and set up for myself, I have to set on fire, leaving ashes for memories that i'll take with me wherever i go.

certainly uncertain, at least i'm pretty sure i am

today i woke up semi-cranky and feeling overwhelmed. the countdown keeps getting shorter, yet the days feel too long and not long enough all at once. between studying for finals and the craziness of last week, i feel displaced and ready to settle into a niche, and that niche is presumably in a foreign country where I know no one and nothing.

I suppose that today was the first time I felt anxiety about the journey I'm going to embark on. With everything that's been happening, I havent had a moment to breathe let alone think about the fact that I am plunging full force into an unknown land. Until now I haven't had a moment's hesitation about it and have seen it only as the beginning of the adventure that is my life. but after being asked for, oh, about the hundredth time, "And you're going there completely by yourself?" the paranoia crept in and those unfamiliar feelings permeated through my usually chipper exterior and made me feel...just uuugghh.

I don't think there's anything wrong with feeling the need to escape from the routine you've set for yourself in order to find your actual self, the person you know is in there but lying dormant in the face of responsibility and obligation and everything adulthood. most of all, i HATE it when someone tries to tell me how dangerous it is what I'm doing and where I'm going. Dangerous? I grew up in one of the murder capitals of the world. Danger is at every corner--if you're oblivious to it, you're that much more likely to run into it. I also hate it when someone just cant seem to wrap their head around the fact that yes, I am going alone, and yes, it's just because I feel like it. No, I don't have family there and no, I've never been to Buenos Aires. Little do they know, that's all part of the appeal.

there's a handful of people i'm going to miss, but the beauty of the relationships I have with these people is that no matter how far away we are or how much time passes, nothing changes, and when we reunite it will be as though we never missed a beat. I'm not afraid of the change thats certainly going to happen, because the only constant thing in life is change and there's something really comforting about that to me. and though there's so many wonderful things about this magic city that is permanently part of my soul, I don't think I can stand even another week here without wanting to kill someone. Or possibly doing so accidently with my vehicle, the very bain of my existence on this planet.

today i said out loud, admitted to myself and the people in my company, "I don't think I know anything about anything." And up until I said that, I think a part of me thought I knew a whole lot. certainly not everything but definitely enough to get by, and maybe even enough to teach a thing or two to someone willing to learn. But the truth is, I don't think ANYONE in my life really knows anything about anything, even the "adults" (in fact, some of THEM are worse off than twenty-something me!)

i'm certainly uncertain, i don't know anything about anything, and i wouldn't have it any other way.

addicted to fun

catherine fleming is trouble. and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

ever since she came home, i have been trapsing around town as though there is no such thing as finals. and my impending cross-continent move doesn't make matters better. to think i have just a little over a month left with my favorite people in the world is the ultimate excuse for tuesday night shenanigans.

last weekend, i fell asleep at the bar. 4 am, irish times, head in hand, passed the fuck out. this isn't the first time i've done this (there are two rules, al: you keep your shoes on, and your eyes open!) and i think it a testament that my life has far too many early morning obligations.

i spend most days of the week holed up in the library, doing work for about 20-30 minutes at a time before my mind wanders, and before you know it, i'm surfing craig's list for argentine real estate. spending this much time being quiet is a real challenge for me and i swear a depression sets in after my 3rd hour in the library. when i'm not procrastinating on the internet, i'm day dreaming about fun. i think about how much i hate obligations and responsibilities and i wonder why society has placed these restrictions on free thinkers. i stand up on my proverbial soap box and profess "Who's to say that an entire life spent traveling and working odd jobs isn't the best way to live? Who says I have to start a career in order to be successful?! And what the hell does 'success' mean anyway?!"

anyway. back to last weekend. catherine, aly, ericka and i spent all day saturday laying on the beach, drinking mojitos and enjoying miami's perfectly unpredictable weather. it was second saturday, which means the design district's galleries stayed open later than usual and welcomed the bourgeoisie for boozin' and beholdin' someone else's version of art. looking at art whilst getting intoxicated is only my FAVORITE thing to do. did i mention the alcohol is free?

at danny's insistence, we left the design district for fox's lounge. how can i best describe fox's? fox's is the kind of place you take your sleazy mistress to. it's the kind of place that has a 2 for 1 special on a saturday night. it's dark, seedy and obscure. a south miami legend. in other words, it's bliss. two dirty martinis later, i was ready to go so we went to bouganvilla's where theres always live music. i didn't plan on drinking anymore because i'm low on funds and was already pretty drunk, and then danny handed me a beer and it was all downhill from there. we started jumping up and down and dancing like crazy people, mouthing all the words, and then i heard the first few chords of Four Non Blonde's "What's Going On" and i lost it. what is it about that song?!

as the night wore on, aly and ericka dropped like flies but catherine and i had a second wind and decided to stay out. that's pretty much the last thing i remember. only when i looked at my bank account the next morning did i recall the couple of stellas i bought at the bar before we went to the times, where danny (fucking danny) bought me some more alcohol. i blame him for the bar sleep. and catherine, for being fun.

when danny finally woke me up (i was asleep for like 20 minutes before the bartender "suggested" he take his friend home) i awoke to catherine talking so loudly she was practically screaming. wasted. hilarious. i finally dragged our asses into a cab and she yelled at me saying she wasn't gonna pay for it. i can only imagine the sight we were in the cab, catherine laughing hysterically and making phone calls, me half asleep and hysterical over catherine. we walked into the house like bats out of hell, oblivious to the fact it was 5 am. catherine turned on all the lights and woke up aly and ericka, i flung my clothes to the floor and catherine said something about being a twelve year old.

we woke up late and everyone had made us breakfast. i decided to continue to live in a world where finals don't exist, and enjoyed my sunday laying around catherine's and laughing about the night before. i may be addicted to fun, but at least i'm good at having it.

Nicolasa [nee-co-la-sa]:

Last week someone I had known for about 15 minutes asked me if I used to get into a lot of trouble as a kid.

I thought back to my childhood and out of the blue recalled the name my family had coined and that I hadn't heard in years: Nicolasa. That was the nickname they came up with when they realized I was a handful. I was an adventurous little kid, always curious and always inventing a new game, an entreprenurial scheme, or a one man show. Reflecting on my years in school, when I'd get a conduct card sent home with comments from my teachers such as "too much talking" or "late back from recess" or "won't sit still," I chuckled to myself and replied: "Yeah, I was pretty mischievous."

At 23, not much has changed. So it only seemed appropriate that I name this blog to reflect what it will be: a forum for my crazy travels, the predicaments I always seem to get myself into and out of, and the rants and raves I have inside my own head (that you lucky spectators can now observe!). And just the experience. I am a product of experience and those experiences are more valuable than any education I have received. and that is definitively "Nicolasa."