Conclusions from Argentina

Being that it's been well over a month since I last blogged ya, I feel I may be due for an update. I'm back in Oxford, Ohio now. It's busy as hell, but great to be back at the same time. I just totally forgot to update my blog. Finally Michi reminded me. This will be the last entry in this blog, but I will create another one detailing my new life at Miami U. For starters, winter break was fun. Victoria came with me for her first official visit to our lovely nation. It's awesome, she was a total hit with my family and friends here. Now they see why I feel how I do. We spent a grand old time in the best state ever, Minnesota. Then I took her to Chicago, which she liked but could tell was far inferior to Minneapolis. There's too many stories to tell and I forgot daily details about break.

There are also so many things I have forgotten about my last days in Buenos Aires that I really can't give an accurate picture. The major event was that Vicky's godson Alejandro was born and I got to see my first socialized hospital. It was pretty eye-opening, especially when I saw that the maternity ward was shared with four other beds and in the bed right next to the newborn was an old, decrepit, perhaps dying woman. Friday night Vicky and I went to Bar Uriarte, which was our first dinner date, the dinner after I proposed to her, and now our last dinner, just perfect. Saturday I chilled with David and went to Alto Palermo. Then we went to some trendy restaurant called "Soul Cafe" which was filled with uppity materialistic slime, BA's worst. But on the upside I saw some famous tennis star who had been banished for doping, and a futbol star. The last night in BA was pretty solid.

Saying goodbye to everyone was fine. I don't usually do bad with goodbyes. The hilarious thing is that my student visa, the dreaded document that would never stop biting me in the ass, was technically expired (and FLACSO assured me it would be fine) so without Vicky's help at the airport, I surely would have been detained in Argentina. After paying 50 more pesos and barely making it to my plane, I was more than excited to go home.

Argentina was the best five months of my life. I completely let go and allowed myself to learn about a beautiful culture much different from my own. I travelled. I made lifelong friends. I learned Spanish almost fluently. I became a Boca Juniors fanatic. And of course, I found the love of my life. So studying abroad was the best decision for me. This blog has been great for nostalgic purposes. 61 entries!

Until my next blogspot page,

Ciao for now.

Love,
Zvika

Passing by the Skin of My Teeth

Um, I am sitting in the Residencia now, even though I have moved all of my things to Vicky's. I have had quite the adventurous day. But for those of you wondering, I just passed my UBA Argentine History oral final exam with a stellar grade of 4 (equivalent of a D). The sad thing is, that is a pretty good grade for UBA.

Let's begin with yesterday shall we? After my tutoring session, I am dutifully preparing for my final oral exam this Friday when I decide to head over to FLACSO to say my goodbyes (at least, temporary goodbyes) to the wonderful staff. I see them and check with some logistical things just to make sure everything is in order. Everything seems to be fine and I am preparing well.
I go to the main office and they start discussing that Nestor Kirchner, the president of Argentina (pictured here, looks kind of like a giant tortoise and has the silliest Patagonian accent) decided on Tuesday to declare this Friday a new national holiday, meaning all public buildings would be closed. As luck would have it, good ol' UBA is a public building. Oh, joy. The staff calls UBA and affirms that indeed it is closed on Friday. I have to pass my exam; I have no choice. Furthermore, my plane leaves on Sunday and I have worked way too damn hard studying for this oral exam to just let it slip through my fingers. I get frantic and start thinking I want to pay Nestor a visit to his presidential compound in Olivos and tell him to have the holiday start in 2007. What a bastard. It's funny that the president of the country has a direct impact on my future seeing as if I don't take this final I don't graduate on time. Imagine if "W" had that power. I email my professor (the one with a dozen rabid cats who smokes Virginia Slims) and get no answer. I am going absolutely ape-shit when I leave FLACSO and what's worse, it was rush hour on the awful subway and it was sweltering hot. I needed to kill something. Get back to the Res. and the plan is for us to go out to dinner at a swanky American-fare restaurant called Kansas. What an original name. As we are waiting in a group Vicky calls me and tells me she is close to the Res. So I go to the corner and meet her and just her presence alone helped to calm me down. She then came into the Res. for the first time so she could see where I used to live, LOL. The idea for the dinner, of course, is that she would not join us because I just want to hang out with "the guys". Fernando apparently didn't get the memo and when we were all sitting he asks Vicky "Why don't you come with us?" while I was behind her making the "cutting my neck meaning NO!" gesture to Fernando. Luckily Vicky is observant and knew I needed to only be with friends, but not before giving me a guilt trip saying something along the lines of, "Your friends want me there more than you do". Thanks again, Fernando. Anyways the group consists of me, Justin, David, Fernando, Juan Carlos, Juan Carlos' brother Julio, Julio's girlfriend (so I guess it wasn't "guys night out" afterall), and his girlfriend's friend. We get to the place and I am very underdressed as I am wearing my FLACSO shirt and Twins hat, and I haven't shaved. The wait for our table is 90 minutes because this place is incredibly popular. During the wait, I have two gin and tonics and Justin has three. We have some great convos like "I can't believe we are all going home so soon", bla bla bla yada yada. We finally get seated and the food is unbelievable. I have a ceaser salad for the first time here and wow was it awesome. Then we eat some spinach dip appetizer thing. For the main course, I try the best Filet Mignon ever, accompanied with a twice-baked potato. I also had a Budweiser for the first time here. All of Kansas screamed "America" except for all the ridiculously gorgeous, thin women surrounding us. I guess one reason I didn't want Vicky there is so I could stare at the women without getting castigated. I'll admit that when she and I go out together and there is a hot woman present, it is near impossible to stare at her and make catcalls. You have to be very strategic about it, like make sure your seat at the table is facing the hotties. Well, in Kansas I just couldn't get enough. I may be engaged but I can still look. Like any boring history museum, I can look as long as I don't touch. Not to say that marriage is like a boring history museum but you get my point. Vicky doesn't read this blog, for the record...her English isn't good enough to undersand it. Oh how I love thee, English! Anyways after dinner we head to our favorite corner bar and have some more beer and good ol' Hugo shows up, like always. We are getting drunk. It is fun. After drinking a lot, they head back to the Res. while I venture toward the #64 bus. Busses are always adventurous at night. I wait for a long time but finally make it on. Then I walk to my new house and Vicky is sleeping face down with all of our stuffed animals around her. She is so damn beautiful I can't stand it. I go to sleep peacefully but drunk.

Today I wake up kind of late because yesterday was Vicky's last day of work for the year so we could sleep in. I foolishly decide to put on my Boca jersey, not thinking it will mean anything. I should just come to terms with the fact that wearing that jersey will always entail some strangers on the street wanting to harm me. It's like as if I were Derek Jeter walking around South Boston in my own jersey. He is a big enough tool to actually pull something like that. He knows that everyone either loves his team or hates them. What a doushbag. Anyways Vicky drives me to some crazy avenue called Corrientes, where there is always heavy traffic. She tells me to take a cab to my tutor. I follow her advice and the cab ride takes a half an hour or so because traffic is so awful. I seriously could have made it there faster on foot. I finally get to the tutor and check my email for a response from the evil professor. There is none. Suddenly I get a call from FLACSO that I can take the final at UBA today at 4:15 PM. The time was 2:00 PM. I really needed another day to study but such is life and I should expect that from UBA by now. So the tutor rushingly makes me some awesome study guides and I take the disgusting Linea E subway over to UBA filosofía y letras, hopefully for the last time in my entire life. I get into the building and of course I can't find who I need to nor the right office. Some woman refers me to a random office with many doors. I only have the first names of the 2 people I need to see. As I am walking I notice a professor and she grills me on where I am from when I ask her for help. She then refuses to help me because I am wearing a Boca jersey. She obviously loves River. Just because my fianceé is a River fanatic doesn't make up for the fact that I still hate that team and most of their fans. This wench had the gall to not assist me because of my jersey, may she rot in hell. Finally another student helps me and I find who I need to. Again I get stares from the professors for my jersey. They think I am crazy for wearing it. I retort that I had no idea my final would be today because that's the nature of their crooked-ass institution. This wonderfully nice lady named Mercedes helps me with everything, assures me my exam will be today, and that I can calm down because I was a nervous wreck. That place just gives me the Willies every time I step foot in there. After waiting for a few minutes I meet the two professors that will administer my oral exam. One of them happens to be the author of the book I read for class, and the other is a prestigious scholar too. I try not to be intimidated but this is quite a pressure-filled situation. I get to the room and they both tell me they are Boca fans. Jajaja, that is poetic justice if I have ever seen it! I show them the ticket stub from the championship game and we talk futbol for awhile. Then I start explaining to them what I know about the economic aspects of Perón's government, then into the 60's with the various coup d'etats and into the 70's with the military dictatorship. While I am talking, I am already nervous and judging by the faces they were making, I probably wasn't making any sense. They started asking me about things with witch I was not too familiar. To make matters worse, three people actually came into the room with the door closed and interrupted us. One was some woman who actually stayed and talked to the professors for a good while. She was nice and giggly, but I hated her guts because she was making my situation more excruciating by exacerbating the process. But of course, this is UBA and anything goes. After trying to explain myself the best I could, the anxiety still wouldn't end because the professors told me to wait outside for a few minutes. Surely they were judging me and figuring out a way to pass me just because I am a stupid foreigner with a weak handle on the Spanish language. But finally, Mercedes came into the room with a smile and told me I passed. I knew I got the minimum of 4. That's OK. She made me feel very good about myself when she told me that grade would be like a B or higher in the US because the course is so hard and that she admired me for being the only Flacsito to not drop that class after the first day. We then talked about my experience in Argentina in general, that I got engaged and want to return, and she was so happy for me. I even told her I learned most everything here outside of the classroom and she said that is the most important thing about my experience here. So as terrible as UBA was these last 4 months, it ended on a high note with two brilliant and sympathetic Boca fans and the kindest university office assistant I have ever met. After the final, I took a collective sigh of relief, got a pancho from across the street and took the #36 bus to the Res. The bus was packed but I survived.


Now I am sitting here, finally done with all of my academia. Tonight I am going to dinner with Justin and David to the restaurant where ol' Hugo is a waiter. It should be awesome. And yes, I am still going to wear my jersey there. Justin and David are two of the best friends I could ever ask for; I will surely be in touch with them after this program.

Booyakasha!

Zvika

Joe Smith Has Screwed Us Over Twice

Aah, the sweet and bitter irony of life. In case you haven't heard, Allen Iverson (the Twolves only answer for getting into the playoffs this year) just got traded to our bitter divisional rival, the Denver Nuggets. The same Denver Nuggets that we beat in 5 games for our first franchise playoff series win. The same Denver Nuggets that decided to hold a boxing match at Madison Square Garden last Friday night. And now, the same Denver Nuggets who have the top two highest scorers in the league in Melo and AI, both pouring in over 30 ppg. When you look at the trade, it actually isn't too unfair if you factor in the two 2007 first round picks that Philly receives. Andre Miller has always been a reliable point guard with good vision. But the other guy they traded...well he is another story. Allow me to elaborate.

Let's take a magical journey back to the year 1995. The number one overall pick in the NBA draft was a Maryland standout named Joe Smith, who played brilliantly with the Terps. There he is up there, looking like he has atrophy or down syndrome. 4 draft picks after Smith, the T-wolves completely reinvigorated their franchise by drafting a high schooler out of Farragut Academy in Chi-town named Kevin Garnett. In the NBA, the two players' careers would go in opposite directions, Smith turning out to be as average as his name, and KG going on to be one of the most versatile forwards in league history. By chance, Joe Smith became KG's teammate a few years later and he actually showed some glimpses of productive basketball. But then, in what has become the ultimate slap in the face for all T-Wolves faithful, word broke out that an illegal contract had been formed by Kevin McHale and Glen Taylor for Joe Smith. Commissioner Stern came up with the harshest penalty I can think of: the complete loss of five first round draft picks. I dug deep into the archives (OK I just Googled it) to find a nice article highlighting the fiasco. So we basically lost our chances of getting the likes of Amare Stoudemire, Dwight Howard, and anybody from the 2003 draft like Wade, Bron, Melo, and Bosh. After the scandal, Smith continued his journeyman career to be a role player on several teams. This year, the Nuggets picked up his contract from Milwaukee. When AI went on the market there were several rumors out there, but basically it was the Wolves final chance of getting a bonified superstar sidekick for KG. Now the Nuggets used Joe Smith to nab him. Just to reiterate, I hate Joe Smith with a blinding, loathing passion. On a side note, does anybody know where I can obtain the following items:

1. Sniper rifle
2. Kevin McHale's home address
3. Glen Taylor's home address

As for the daily dose, my life is not interesting enough to publish so much on this blog. I am like a married man. I mean, to me its great but there's really not much to say. Yesterday night we went to Vicky's friend's house, who is also 31 years old and basically engaged to a 24 year old so it was cool to see that we are not the only crazy ones. What a great couple with a lovely apartment and that dinner was superb. We even had ice cream, which was delivered to the door, for dessert and a fine Malbec. Incredibly genuine, generous people whom I feel I will spend a lot more time with if I move here soon. Today I slept a lot and went to McDonald's for like the billionth time, we'll say.

I go home in 4 days!

-Zvi

When in History has Violence Solved Anything?

All right, to answer that question, several times. In fact it's the reason there are countries. And religions. And action movies. But seriously, these past few days I have been exposed to way too much violence and it has me wondering, all these idiots acting so violently...they just need to be loved by someone like me! Before you start calling me lame, permit me to explain.

Saturday was OK. I stayed in with the lady friend. I'm sure you are probably all wondering when I have time to see my friends here, and the truth is, a lot of them are on vacations in exotic places like Rio de Janeiro and Chile. I have always been one to adhere to the philosophy of "bros before ho's" but this situation I am in is markedly different. The reason I spend almost every waking moment with Vicky is that I am going to be spending the rest of my life with her so I want to see what it's like to live with her. And it is wonderful. Plus we are not always just hanging out just us two; we usually go out with either my friends or her friends as well. Her best friends work at the parking garage she parks in every day so we usually go down there, chill with them and share a máte. So we did that on Saturday. Then we were just having a relaxing night and it started to thunderstorm hard outside. It was awesome.





Sunday was so-so. They were playing a "Godfather" marathon on A & E and it was great but they even played the third one which is not a bad film, but in comparison to the first two just doesn't compare. In the never-ending debate over which of the first two is best, I just can't decide because both have their merits. The first one brilliantly shows the transition of Michael from good soldier boy to mob boss, highlighted in the scene where he finds the hidden pistol in a bathroom of a restaurant and kills the chief of police. Also the baptism montage is just perfect. The second one has Robert Deniro and the scene pictured above where the young Vito finally takes out the evil Don Fanucchi has to be one of the best scenes in movie history. Deniro's presence alone makes that film special. Plus the violence in the "Godfather" films is not senseless like most action movies. On the contrary, you acually know every character that dies very well, and it's emotionally-wrenching just to watch. Which brings me to the main point of this blog.

There is just too much senseless violence going on. Because I am in South America, I don't get "Sportscenter" so often but they did cover what happened in Madison Square Garden on Friday night. When the Nuggets were handing it to the home-team Knicks in the waning moments of the game, some no namer named Marty Collins headlocked J.R. Smith and they fell hard to the ground, an obvious flagrant foul. Then Smith went crazy and little Nate Robinson started acting a lot bigger than his 5"10 frame. To his credit he took Smith to the ground when they rumbled into the crowd. But the highlight of the mélee came when Carmelo Anthony (pictured right), the thuggish little bitch who is anything but "Melo", popped Collins in the mouth and you can hear it perfectly. Check out the video here. I have never wanted a large suspension so bad. Not only is Melo an overrated punk who doesn't even belong in the same building as his draft year buddies Dwyane Wade and Lebron James, but ever since that playoff series the Wolves had with the Nuggets in '03/'04, I have hated his guts. Don't get me wrong: Melo is having a spectacular, all-star calibur season. But this is just proof that he is a street thug from Baltimore who can't control his temper. In fact, many people are probably going to turn this whole fiasco into a race issue, which is probably a vaild point. Look, the fact is that many NBA stars grew up in terrible neighborhoods where they were used to everyday violence. Regardless of whether they are wearing that jersey, they are going to react with their instincts. They're not thinking about suspensions, fines, or the good of the team when they lash out; it's simply the environment many of them were raised in. And I am not racist, I just speak the truth. This brawl is great for the Timberwolves because if Melo gets suspended for a substantial amount of time, the Nuggets will falter and we will gain ground on them in the division. Hooowwwwwwwwwllllllllll!

I'm not done with the topic of senseless violence just yet. This morning I turn on the local news and see that the students of my university, UBA, are staging a major protest at the congressional building where they are announcing the new president of UBA. Because it was live coverage, I couldn't keep my eyes off of it. What I saw shocked me. Basically a bunch of socialist students (complete with red Lenin shirts) were knocking down police barricades in order to get into congress and protest the election of the new president. They were throwing chairs and rocks at the policemen. And to be honest, I have to give credit to the Policia Federal on this one because they were not resorting to violence until they absolutely had to. When the students kept on coming, the police called for armored tanks as reinforcement. The tanks shot out blue paint so they could identify who the perpetrators are by the paint marks on their skin. Then I saw some crazy bitch try and fight reporters. The point here is, how can these naíve students call themselves "socialist" when really they are just looking for a reason to destroy things and protest? There is no way all of those students even know what the hell they are fighting for, they just want to cause a ruckus. It shames me to be connected whatsoever to an institution where filthy, violent people try to achieve their objectives through destruction and chaos. I admire Argentine passion and the fact that students care so much about their political and social environments, but sometimes that passion rears it's ugly head in the form of useless, mindless violence. Here's another video of the protest.


I think I have conveyed my point with you all. I sincerely believe there is way too much violence in the world. Like for instance, I could probably be mad that I failed by UBA class and go protest the fact that there are any finals at all, but I know that would be fruitless and a solid waste of time. Besides, I didn't deserve to pass that class anyways. And for my family who is reading this, I am sorry but I freely admit it was my mistake staying in Urban Georgaphy. However, I will still graduate in May, mark my words.


I love you.


-Zvika

The Name's Zvika...Zvika the Righteous Jew

That title kind of sucks but I am not in such a creative mood. Just wanted to stick to the theme of "007" because last night I saw "Casino Royale" and let me tell you it was the best James Bond movie in history, by far. The only thing that was missing was his trademark BMW. What the hell were they thinking having James Bond himself driving a Ford concept? That's like eating canned tuna in a sushi wrap when you could be feasting on salmon sashimi instead. Also they could have done a lot better job with the new Bond girl. She is British so automatically qualifies and being less than comely. I mean, she's hot but her skin is too paistey and she's got that moon-face look going. Other than that though, the action and dialogue were top-notch. I don't even play poker nor do I know the strategy so for people that are beyond obsessed with poker (Kyle) I am sure you would enjoy this film. Possibly the best action movie I have ever seen. If you are reading my blog now, stop and go see this movie!

Thursday was pretty cool. I went with Victoria to the rose garden and back to our special tree. That place is great. I also ate a delicious chorripan sandwich and some Fanta. Other than that I don't remember much other than her repeatedly asking me of we can have a pet raccoon in our first house. I say "yes" if she is willing to clean up the garbage it spills every day and make sure it doesn't have rabies. She is flippin' nuts but I wouldn't want her to change for anything.

Friday was great because it was the day when I run into every type of Jew in town. My goal for the day is to make some real headway on my independent project, which I remind you is to get a better idea of the Jewish community here. In the morning I go to buy 12 peso sunglasses and the vendor is an Egyptian Jew. We have a great convo about Argentina and I teach him and his hot sister some Hebrew. I could tell he wasn't from Argentina when I met him. Then I go to the most inefficient bank in the world where one has to wait about an hour in line just to exchange money. In line, a crazy dude behind me hit me in the back but it turned out to just be a mosquito. We get to talking and he is one of those nebbish Jews from the old country (Poland). A real wierdo but had a good story to tell about his family emigrating here. After finally getting my money, I then do some reading for my final at the Res. which seems like a foreign place to me now. It's like a ghost town because almost everyone is gone. At 4:00 I have to go to Villa Crespo where all the Jews live to interview my friend Emma's host mom. I figure out the only feasible way to get there is to take the dreaded bus #55. You know, the one I got lost on for 3 hours and almost died trying to board another time. Well this time the bus happens to be full and the driver is driving like a super-boludo. The amount of people coupled with the unbearable heat was too much for me to handle. Over a mile before my scheduled stop I decide I can't take it anymore and get off. In the future, even if I am being chased by a thief at knife point and my only out is the #55, I will not board it. FUCK THAT BUS! Anyways I get to the apartment building of Marta who is the kindest Argentine Jewish woman. My interview goes about an hour and in that hour I learned so many absolutely fascinating things about the Jewish community here. It's near impossible to comprehend the devastating effects of the economic crash in 2001 because I wasn't here but my basic understanding of it is that basically everyone lost almost everything, including houses, cars, and the majority of money in their bank accounts. This was especially disastrous for the Jewish community becasue the majority of people who worked in retail, like the textile industry, lost their business because literally nobody could buy their products. Another interesting thing is that the Jewish community here is not as well connected and united as in the US or Israel, with the exception of the Orthodox. In addition the majority of Jews here are not very religious. Several of them do not light the Menorah for Channukah nor do they celebrate it. I didn't even know it was the first night of Channukah last night until my mom told me, how pathetic. However, the Lubavitch's still celebrate it. Check out this slick photo of the Lubavitch Rebbi at the Bombonera where Boca plays. I knew I picked the right futbol team. After learing more facts about the Jewish community, I commenced my interview and took the subway line B (which I never take) all the way to the parking garage where Vicky's friends work to meet them for a máte. On the way, on a whim, I see a nice flower vendor and buy six roses for my love. It's been a hard week, she deserves them. The vendor was great because he is from the province of Jujuy, where I went on one of my organized trips. You can always tell when someone is from the provinces because they are much more humble than your average Porteño. I go to meet Vicky at the garage and have a máte with our friends. Great people. Before we leave she happens to recognize a player from Boca getting into his car. She stops him and tells him what a huge Boca fan I am, and when he learns I am a foreigner he happily signs an autograph with a nice personal message to "Zvy" LOL. I didn't even recognize him by name nor face but supposedly he played at the championship on Wednesday, so that's pretty awesome. We then go home and out to the movies, where I saw the new Bond. But first we had dinner at...you'll kill me, all of you...Burger King again! I had the Whopper Xtreme which had 2 beef patties, bacon and cheese and a large fries. I finished everything because it was beyond orgasmically delicious. And for 10 minutes I literally couldn't move. Great meal to have on Shabbat and the first night of Chanukah; pretty much the least Kosher combination I can think of. We still had 2 hours before the movie started so I told Vicky some hilarious stories from my past, like our "delinquent behavior" project for AP Psychology senior year of high school when I got in a makeshift diaper, had a baby rattle and went to Lake Calhoun with the crew. I still remember Michael and Curtis pretending to be my gay adoptive parents and me throwing a major league temper tantrum in lake traffic. And when everyone who was too lazy to come up with their own projects went and camped out on our teacher McLean's back yard the night before it was due and he saw us drunk, which was awkward. And how he blasted Springstein at 6 AM to wake everyone up and pissed off the entire neighborhood, most of whom were Orthodox Jews. You see, all of my tangents are somehow relevant. Anyways the point of all that is that I love story telling and there are just so many stories I can still tell her to give her a better picture of how crazy my life really is and what she is getting into. Another story I told her is when I was 6 and had just moved to the US, my cousing Becca tried to teach Shalva and I how to play Monopoly and when she got to the part about "going to jail" I freaked out and started bawling because I thought if you landed on that spot, the police would come to the house and take me to jail. It took her multiple times of explanation to convince me they wouldn't actually come to the house and detain me. Just one more story, I promise! At the same age of 6, my cousin Katy showed me the wonder of the original Nintendo and I became addicted. So addicted, in fact, that when I was playing "Mike Tyson's Punchout", I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to pause that game. Nor could I figure out how the hell to beat Great Tiger, that Hindu prick pictured here who always disappeared at the most convenient times to kick my ass. So one day I am determined to beat him back to Calcutta and I really needed to piss. My mom checks on me to see if I am OK and I am jumping around violently, trying to convey the fact that there is no pause feature on this game and beating him took priority over my bladder. I peed everywhere and I think that's the reason my mom never let me have Nintendo growing up. And what's worse, I never defeated the Great Tiger. Now, where was I? Oh yea, after some nice story-telling we went to the awesome movie and it ended at 3:15 AM. That's Argentine time for ya. We go home.

Today began kind of early as we had to meet Vicky's Jewish friend Gabi so I could get another interview. Again I found out some fascinating facts and history. Apparently antisemitism is rampant here, as I found out with some of the horror stories I heard. That interview was also great and now I am sitting in the horrific Residencia on a beautiful sunny day, contemplating how the hell I am going to bullshit 15 pages in Spanish about the light rail in Minneapolis for my urban geography class. Why, oh why, did I choose to stay in that class?!

I'm going home in 8 days!

Love,

Zvika

Losing is Sometimes Gratifying...So is Meeting Your Future Mother-in-Law

Argentina just keeps on getting more amazing with each passing day. Yesterday I went to the first ever tie-breaker championship game for the Argentine club league. It was incredible. But let's get to a bit of the daily dose here shall we?

Monday night was OK because I finally got to try Persico, the best ice cream in all of Buenos Aires. It was indeed the best. Dulce de leche with granizado with any type of chocolate has to be a match made in heaven. Interestingly, Persico was founded by a Jewish family who only sold Kosher ice cream, for all the Yids who liked sweets but were too stubborn to eat whatever the hell is in unkosher ice cream. Pig's toenails maybe? I mean, really, how could ice cream not be Kosher? Anyways that was good. I go home to watch Monday Night Football and that bastard Devon Hestor, the rookie for the hated Bears, went off. He is not human. I hate the Chicago Bears. I hope you are all reading this Rubin, Squeak, Cheech, Rosie, Zoller, and every other idealistic Chicago fan who sucks. THE CHICAGO BEARS WILL NOT WIN THE SUPER BOWL THIS YEAR-mark my words. I go to sleep, like a baby.

On Tuesday I really don't remember much of what I did during the day. I know I went to the tutor and learned about more fascinating Argentine history. If I could come up with an analogy for the frequency in which there has been a change in state and leadership here, I would compare it to a man who can never really make up his mind about anything. He's always wanting to change his style and name, and appears confused most of the time. So Argentina is kind of like Prince, only just a little less fruitcake-like. On a side note, Prince (Minneapolis' own) is one of the best and underrated musicians of all time, just like Argentina is one of the greatest countries ever. Where the hell was I? OK, so Tuesday was cool but Vicky and I were both very nervous about her getting her visa the next morning because we had to make sure everything was perfect. It's very difficult to get even a tourist visa to the US now because they assume everyone wants to move there. All she had to do was prove to the US embassy that she had no real reason to move to the US, that she has a stable job here, a residence, and a car. After being nervous we go to her special little ladies beauty sculpting gym to meet her wonderful Jewish friend Gabi. But as I am waiting awkwardly in the hallway (because men aren't allowed in the gym) the security guard asks me to move because I am scaring people. Hilarious. Anyways after waiting for her friend she finally comes out and she is a golden person. We go to have coffee and she is so happy for Vicky that she found a great guy like me. Look at me, I am going to coffee with Argentine women who go to beauty gyms...how can I save my masculinity? I can think of a few ways :) Anyways Gabi is going to help me with my independent project with the Jewish community here. After that we go to dinner at Burger King (definitely more than 10 times there now) and it is delicious as always.
Night is fun.

Wednesday was insane for both Vicky and me. She goes to the embassy ass-early and I am anxiously awaiting an answer from her. In the meantime, my friend Ed who is even more of a crazy Boca fan than me, tells me he waited in line 5 hours at the Bombonera and almost got trampled to death just to buy one ticket. The idea is for him and I to go early to the stadium where the championship tie-breaker is being held in Velez-Sarsfield and scalp off his ticket in exchange for two tickets sitting with the Doce or "12", the craziest of the crazy fans. So I meet up with him and we cab it to the same neighborhood where I had my backpack stolen on the bus to Mendoza. We find a guy and amazingly he has 2 tickets so we do the exchange. 100 pesos each but well worth it. As we are waiting around, I get a call from Vicky that she got her visa! Yay! So it is like 2 PM and they open the doors at 2:30, because the game starts at 5 and we want to get a good view. We get into the stadium and it is a very nice stadium. All the Boca fans are going nuts. The team we are playing is named Estudiantes and they play in a neighborhood outside the city called La Plata. They are a huge underdog and hardly win anything significant when it comes to Argentine tournaments. It's always Boca, River, or a third major team like Independiente, so this is the biggest game ever for most of these fans. Conveniently they have the same red and white color scheme as River so I automatically hate them. As we are waiting in our seats, the stadium is filling up with crazy members of the "12". I realize I may die today but it will be an honorable death. Ed and I decide that if we are going to go, we go all out so we literally stood in the middle of the chaos. The game began and it was incredible how passionate all of us were, jumping up and down, singing, chanting, swearing, smoking cigarettes, and all united for Boca Juniors. In the 3rd minute, Palermo scored an awesome goal and we went nuts. Victory is in the bag. Before halftime a magical unforgettable moment came to me. It was scorching hot and sunny but for some reason it started raining and it produced a perfect rainbow overlooking the stadium. I thought to myself, "Here I am, the first championship game of my life, the first tie-breaker in Argentine club history, with the craziest futbol fans in the entire world, cheering on my team in the sun and rain. This culminates my amazing experience here in Argentina". However that was the last good moment of that game. After the half, Boca played like a lost child. Estudiantes evened it up on a free kick just outside the box, then took a 2-1 lead when our goalie made a terrible error and left his post to try and catch up to a ball that the shooter definitely had control over. All he had to do was loft it over the goalie's head. And that was that. Estudiantes fans were going crazy as they well should be. Boca fans were in disbelief yet still continued their chants even after they lost. That's the beauty of Boca fans; they still show the love even after a devastating loss. And to tell you the truth, Boca deserved to lose that game, there is no valid excuse for their play. To view this situation in a positive light, Estudiantes winning the championship is great for the state of affairs in Argentine club futbol because they were truly the best team and there is no argument that they were involved in fixed games. I am happy for them. After the game we waited forever for the bus and some nutty dude was throwing rocks from his apartment building and it shattered the window of a Boca fan so all the Boca fans wanted to kill this dude. Then at the bus stop I saw people who looked Israeli and yet again I was right, they were speaking Hebrew. Then I took a long bus, long subway to Vicky's and she wasn't there but I have the key. I sit down, completely exhausted from standing in the sun all day and yelling. Then I get a call from her that she wants me to go across town to meet her mother. The last thing I wanted to do at the time as you can imagine. But I got up, shaved, showered and looked nice, then took a taxi there. The taxista was great; he is a River fan and we talked a lot about fun and funny things. For all the bad shady taxistas out there, there are always a few good ones. I get to the apartment and her mother comes down to greet me. We go up to her apartment and it is very nicely decorated. Plus she is preparing a delicious dinner for me. I am not nervous in the least. On the contrary I was completely relaxed and I find her mother to be pretty awesome. Very kind and funny. Crazy as all get-out but who isn't crazy these days? Normal people bore me. Anyways we have some great conversations, an incredible dinner, and a champagne toast. Some people equate "mother in law" with being evil because if you take every letter in the term "mother in law" and use them exactly once you can spell "woman Hitler". But I don't equate her with Hitler. I think she's great and I hope she can visit the US one day. I can already tell her mother loves me. I've always been a momma's boy and I don't intend on changing that.

All right this entry is getting too lengthy. Today is Thursday and Allen Iverson still doesn't have a new home. Please make his new home Minneapolis! I love Argentina.

La vida es dulce,

Zvi

Adios Pinochet, Boca Chokes Hard, and the Twolves Need an Answer

Unless you have been hiding in a cave in Afghanistan, you probably know now that finally, that evil incarnate of a Chilean Augusto Pinochet has finally kicked it at the ripe age of 91. My masterpiece essay in college was about the CIA's involvement in the brutal military coup de tá of the Western world's first freely elected Marxist president, Salvador Allende, and the subsequent installation of Pinochet and his horrific 17 year tenure as dictator. Look at that wry smile. How could he even sleep at night knowing how many deaths he is directly responsable for? People are celebrating in the streets of Santiago, as well they should. Interestingly, there are also people holding candle light vigils in his honor. If I ever ran into them, I would douse their candles in kerosene and watch them burn alive. You have to be as evil as Pinochet himself to honor him. I'm sure he's having a great time with the Devil himself right now, probably playing Backgammon or Parcheesi. Back to reality, let's recount my weekend.

Saturday night, Vicky and I went to meet my gang of hoodlum friends: Justin, David, Fernando, Juan Carlos, and Jerrod (a Flacsito). We arrive at 1:30 at a bar called El Fin del Mundo (The End of the World) in the classic neighborhood of San Telmo. While David and Jerrod are having an intense political debate and the others are discussing stuff, I am actually pensive and quiet for once. The night goes well except that Justin unexpectedly has to leave. If you know Justin, you know he is the last one that would ever do that, and that he can drink anybody under the table. So there were just four of us and at about 4 AM, Vicky and I head home. Pretty fun and event-free night until I heard what possibly happened to Justin the following morning...

Sunday was an incredibly lazy day. I just ate lunch and chocolates, and watched futbol. Today was to be the monumentous last day of the season and Boca Juniors was 3 points ahead of Estudiantes de La Plata, so all we needed to do was tie or win, or have Estudiantes tie or lose. Basically the only way we wouldn't lock up the championship was a Boca loss and Estudiantes win. I get to the Res. to find David and we head to our favorite corner bar and old Hugo has seats waiting for us. I can't think of a better place to see Boca win the championship. So we sit down, have some Stellas, and get optimistic about a Boca win after Martin Palermo scores on a penalty kick. But suddenly, Lanus, the team from the neighborhood where just last Friday a mob of bad kids burned a boliche to the ground and killed a kid, tied the game. Filthy bastards. So we are all kind of concerned because again Boca is playing like crap. And our worst nightmare comes true. Lanus scores again and wins. To make matters worse, Estudiantes won 2-0 on thrilling goals scored in the 86th minute and stoppage time. Great. Now we have to play them on neutral turf this Thursday to determine the champion. Of course this is great for revenue but I really wanted to see Boca win and go to the obelisquo (like the Washington Monument) to celebrate with fellow Bosteros. Instead we decide to have our first home loss of the season at the worst possible time. Kind of sounds like the same choke job the Vikings somehow accomplish every year during the playoffs. Maybe every football team I cheer for is just cursed. Anyways Justin came to watch the game and apparently some foul play ensued last night. Earlier in the evening, he got a gin and tonic that was apparently very light on the gin so he asked for more, and I guess the bartender was insulted and wanted to get him back so they basically roofied his drink. According to testimony, he was waving his middle finger wildly outside of the cab window and doesn't remember a thing. Plus he passed out while talking, which is totally unlike him. This is unfathomable to me. I want to return to that place and really make it the "End of the World" by puncturing that bartender's face with a knife. So much shady shit happens in this country. Roofying a drink? I would expect that at a Sigma Chi fraternity party, not from a bar where one pays money to get poisoned. There's a nice little logo of their crest. I hope it gets me in trouble at the Alpha chapter at my school, those grade A assholes. Come get me you sorry excuses for human beings. Anyways, that story disturbs me. So after Boca lost and Estudiantes won I was pissed and it started torrential downpouring everywhere. Vicky picks me up and we go to El Cuartito, the best pizza place in town where I originally saw Gael García Bernal. The pizza was fabulous and when Vicky tried talking to these little kid Boca fans, I covered her mouth and told them not to talk to a "gallina" which is the nickname we give for River fans. Hilarious. Then we saw a middle-aged couple sitting and the husband actually switched tables to be able to watch futbol highlights, much to the chagrin of his wife. Vicky and I were laughing hysterically at them because if she weren't such a sports nut herself that would be a preview for our future, jajaja. Anyways, we go home and pass out.

This morning I get up with a violent coughing fit at 5 AM. Luckily Vicky has a virtual pharmacy so she helped me out with it. I gotta stop smoking so many damn cigarettes. After a terrible morning where my socks and sunglasses mysteriously disappear and I have to pay Vicky's gas bill at a random gas station (this place continues to astound me in great and awful ways), I get to the Res. Now I am dicking around but one more issue needs tending to...

The Minnesota Timberwolves have a life raft for Kevin Garnett's career and he comes in a tidy, tattooed, profane little man named Allen Iverson. THE ANSWER. This is unbelievable. The one time MVP and 4 time scoring champ with an attitude as piercing as his play on the court, has finally announced publicly that he needs to part ways with his awful team, the Philadelphia 76ers. For the love of Christ, Glen Taylor, make this trade happen. You will recall a few blog entries ago that I discussed the possible departure of my hero and role model, KG from my beloved Twolves. But if we can somehow swing a trade to get AI, then you will have the two remaining players without a title that deserve it more than anyone, playing on the same team. Both men have markedly different styles. KG is always working his tail off, in practice and out, publicly leading his team and influencing many of the upper management decisions for the organization. He is arguably the most versatile power forward in the game. AI is famous for his quips about the relative importance of "practice", has been known to have problems with authority on and off the court, and is a good foot shorter than KG. When he is in the zone, it is like watching an artist paint a canvas all over the basketball court. We need this trade to happen for the good of both men's future careers. Nobody and I mean nobody has more heart when they ball then these two superstars. To see them play together on my team would be a dream come true and automatically give us a chance to win the title this year.


Enough now. I have 4 major obstacles to surmount before I leave. First is to pass my UBA oral final. Then I have to write a final essay for urban geography. I also have to finish my interviews with the Jews of BA for my independent project. Then of course there is the matter of Vicky getting her tourist visa, which of course has to be the most complicated thing on earth because the US sucks at life. Hopefully all 4 will be accomplished.

I'll catch you all on the flip side,

Zvi