I asked all of my students to name three charismatic people.

The best answer?

Hitler

Jesus

Maradona

Nice job, L! Now, if you stopped coming 20 minutes late to your hourlong class, I may take you off of my “MALOS” list.

I was asked to do an interview about my life here in Buenos Aires! I know, pretty flattering right? I must be terribly interesting.

Or have a dad who writes a blog about expats. 

The dad has a fabo site about expat life and I asked him he asked me to write a bit about mi vida loca here in Buenos Aires.

English Teacher. Buenos Aires, Argentina. Expat Alley Interview. 

APRIL 27, 2010

I am 22 years old, originally from the States – though if you look at my birth certificate, transcripts, or resume, you may think otherwise. I currently live in Buenos Aires and I was originally brought here in December 2006 to visit the rents, who lived in Belgrano at the time. I had come for Christmas vacation and ended up staying for 6 months. Before moving back to Oregon in 2007 to finish my undergrad degree, I promised myself that as soon as I graduated, I’d be back down here permanently – and I came back in March 2008, with all my belongings in tow.

How long have you lived there and how long will you stay?  What keeps you there?

I’ve lived here for over a year now and I have no real plans to leave. I have a sister in New York, another on a boat, and one who lives here. The padres live on a farm in Uruguay, and even though we’re probably the most Anglo looking family on the planet, we sort of belong in South America. There’s really no reason for me to go back to the States, unless I’d want to do some graduate work in the future – or to visit my grandmas and stock up on Twizzlers.

What do you do to make a living?

I teach English. I teach young children, teenagers, marketing professionals, doctors, accountants, lawyers – you name it. I’d say I have the most kick-ass job in the world. The people I have met in this profession continue to blow me away, and I am so thankful that I have had the opportunity to really see the culture of Argentina inside and out. I am also a language nerd – always have been – so talking about grammar all day is something I love doing. I’ve put in my time over the years learning Spanish grammar, phonetics, phonology, etc., so I feel that I offer my students a pretty well-rounded English lesson, too. I’d never have the opportunity to do this at my age back in the States without a graduate degree, so I see it as a privilege and I’m happy to put in the time with lesson planning/commuting to be able to do what I love.

Describe your average weekday and weekend day.

Oh, God. Well, you could say I am obsessed with my job – most days start at 7:00 AM and end at around 10:00 PM. I don’t mind it, though. Let’s break down a typical Monday:

Number of students: 10

Number of hours taught: 13

Number of buses ridden: 5

Number of subways caught: 3

Number of neighborhoods traveled to: 5

I don’t teach any group classes currently, so each class takes quite a bit of preparation if I want it to be personalized. I am beginning to train to teach the GMAT, so that’ll be my first introduction to extremely structured, prescribed classes. I know, sort of odd being the poster child of “how to succeed in life without ever taking a standardized test”* and teaching the GMAT. We’ll see how it goes.

*To those of you who are lost here, check out www.newglobalstudent.com.

What skills have you learned while living abroad?

I’ve learned to be able to deal with lots of crap that is completely out of my control. Another strike on the subway? Take the bus. Bus too packed to get on because of the subway strike? Check out your Guia T (Buenos Aires Bible) and figure out an alternative. No monedas and the kiosko is being an hinchapelotas (literal translation: ball sweller) about giving you a one peso coin? Hit up the locutorio (internet cafe) for 5 minutes, pay for the 75 cents with your 2 peso note and you’re golden. Inflation? Start budgeting. Student flake out on you? Take it as an opportunity to plan for your next class. Student didn’t print out materials/buy book/do homework? Always have ten extra things to do – Hangman, tongue twisters, personality quizzes, etc.

Buenos Aires and its people have taught me that you are going to just have to depend on yourself to survive here. People don’t hold your hand – especially if you’re a foreigner (mostly because they have no idea about the difficulties that come with being a foreigner) – and well, you gotta just figure shit out. I don’t have a credit card nor do I receive money from the papis, so when I reach zero, I reach zero. There is something terribly comforting about that, I have to admit. Bills are paper bills. You pay for everything in cash. There are no cards (outside of my subway card, insurance card, and ATM card) and you can’t just swipe your piece of plastic and have money from the stratosphere pay for your groceries. Things here can be a pain in the ass, but they are a tangible pain in the ass.

What are you missing (professionally) by not being in your home country?

Good question. Graduate school, perhaps? Don’t really know. I could think about it all of the time and see what friends in the Facebooksphere are doing with their lives, but I can’t really compare. After living in Portland and New York in 2007/2008, I realized that because I had been raised differently, there was no way that my values/goals/future plans would be in line with those of my peers. I lived in Latin America for a good chunk of time during my adolescence and I feel that it had a pretty profound impact in terms of shaping how much I valued my profession. I wouldn’t say it is in line with any one culture – it’s more of a hodgepodge of things taken from here and there.

If you could live anywhere, where would that be and why?

Buenos Aires! After BA, though, I’d like to check out Spain, head back to Brazil for a bit, Abu Dhabi (no idea why, just intriguing), and make my way through India and Nepal. Oh yes, and Japan, of course – we have a good chunk of the Frost clan with roots there (not to mention yours truly was introduced to the world in Mutsu), so I’d like to head there again eventually.

What is your favorite gadget that makes your work life abroad better?

Just my MacBook and my iPod. Buenos Aires is a terribly loud city, so an iPod is a must. Mine is three years old and I fear that it may tucker out one of these days. That could be fatal.

Do you have a favorite book that inspired you to travel or consider a different way of living?

I love the book “The Glass Castle” by Jeannette Walls. Not a travel book, but it certainly exposes a different way of living. First sentence of the book overview? “Jeannette Walls grew up with parents whose ideals and stubborn nonconformity were both their curse and their salvation.” Hm, wonder why I’m a fan. My parents certainly weren’t as nuts as the ones in the book (thank God) but at times, they were close.

I’m not one for travel books, honestly – it sort of makes me want to compare myself to the author. Am I a good enough traveler? Am I badass enough? Making good use of my time? Meeting the locals? Taking enough Facebook profile pic-worthy photos? I’m a terrible traveler, to be brutally honest. I was born into it and continue to do it, but I’m awful: at documentation, at journaling, at postcard writing – at everything. I haven’t taken a picture of my life in two years, nor have I sent a postcard or any sort of update. I guess I assume that no one will see it like I do, so it is best kept to myself.
Do you have a favorite expat blog?

Expatalley.com, obviously. And Mayafrost.com. And Tealfrost.wordpress.com. Obviously, my endorsement of these blogs has nothing do with all of them being owned by my immediate family members. Nothing to do with it at all.

Go check it out for yourself – he’s got a lot of great stuff and a cute lil’ bio about himself too. 

Danke, dad!

Well, hello again!

It has been a few months, and a lot of shit has gone down. For awhile there, I really didn’t want to post anything and wanted to “hide out”, but now that I got off Facebook (maybe temporarily, maybe permanently) I can’t really see why people will see this anyway.

Okay, on to fun/funny stuff. Man, BsAs is so full of this stuff. Unbelievable. There are at least five times during the day where I am like, “Seriously? Really, BA?” But that’s the beauty of the city, I suppose. Things are weird. Things don’t work. Things just do not make sense. And I love it.

Update time. After I moved down here, my parents decided to sell our apartment. I know, awesome, right? I was looking for free room and board, and my parents up and sell it. THANKS GUYS.

To be honest, I was a bit peeved for awhile, but I figured out that it was probably for the best. I moved into an area called Chacarita, which is still sort of undiscovered by most tourists, and I began living with a guy (gasp!) from Neuquen, a city in the south. Girls living with boys here just…does not happen. Simply doesn’t. He is super chill though, and other than him skipping town for three weeks because of Swine flu and having his mom and aunt stay with me and having me hide his fucking pot plant in my room, he’s great. He’s great. I have to keep telling myself that he is great. Because he is. When he’s awake or physically present (this kid goes to bed at like 6am and wakes up at 4pm…I know. Weird.) But…he’s great. He’s great!

On the job front…I am working remotely as an quality control specialist for a medical transcription agency. Roughly translated, that means that I stay in my pajamas until 4pm listening to doctors talk about hernias and swollen testicles. I mean, it could be worse. I am awaiting my papers from the US so I can get a job permit so I can get a “real” job. I’m pretty okay where I am right now, though. Easy money, allows me to do what I want for the rest of the day…which is not much, but I seem to think that I have a lot going on.

It’s freezing today in BA. I have to buy a space heater, which will probably break after two or three uses. We have “central heating” here, and I think that means that it heats the central room and nothing else. I am fuh-reezing.

Now, once I get back into this thing, these will get more interesting. I really can’t remember shit right now…maybe because it’s too early and I haven’t had my maté yet. I swear to God I am more interesting than this. Really, though. Tune in for more.

I’ll post more of an update (read: something from 2010) soon.

Today is my fourth day in Buenos Aires and I am still as sleep-deprived as the first. Unfortunately, the reason is not because I’ve been a crazy party animal going out every night, its just that I cannot fcking sleep. It is driving me mad. Maybe it is the temperature, maybe the new bed, maybe weird jetlag. Whatever it is, I want to kill it.

On a lighter note, I am extremely happy to be back. I really love this city more than anything in the world and believe that I will continue to fall in love with it even more as time progresses. Things have changed in the past two years, but not as much as I thought they would. Prices have gone way up and noone seems to have any monedas (coins) but other than that, it is the same ol’ BA that I remember.

I met up with my friend from New York here and we hung in his apartment in Congreso. Just so damn fun. Having Quilmes and choripan midday at a corner cafe is the perfect way to spend an afternoon. We went to our fave restaurant last night and had all of my favorites that I had missed for the past two years-ish. I still feel lame though because every night around 10pm I start getting violently tired. Yes, violently tired. You need to see it to believe it.

I have gone on two walks with my dad–both extremely enjoyable and serve as reminders as to why I came back. BA just doesn’t disappoint. There have been new renovations to parks that make it so much better for pedestrians and I LOVE the fact that people are out. All day. Little teeny, tiny babies are being held by their fathers as they walk down the street. No humungo $1500 strollers here, folks. Again, I love BA.

Yeah, yeah, tame post. I’m tired. Give me a break. I haven’t even really gotten together with friends yet, basically taking it slow. Next week is my “jump in” week, and I think that the blogs will get more interesting. Cool job prospects, old friends, and more BA. Stay tuned.

But there is a thing about options in the United States that has driven me mad.

Along with the accumulation of crap discussed in the previous post, I remember that shortly after my arrival in the States in 2006 and 2007, I was inundated with options–so much so, that I actually had to leave the premises due to a pain in my stomach that felt like what I’d imagine the growth of an ulcer would. Where was I at this moment? Target. The store of all things unnecessary that magically become necessary as you make your way to the checkout stand.

Now, I remember going to grab a pack of gum. Don’t ask me why, but during our time in Mazatlan there were two things my sisters and I fantasized about: Pad Kee Mao from Thai Orchid and gum. Yes, the two things we missed most from the States were Thai food and gum. I’m not ashamed. So, here we were, tan little things that were experiencing a severe case of reverse culture shock, walking into Target to buy packs of gum and some other odds and ends (see, if you’re not specific, you’re not overspending!) that I needed for my trip to Europe. I walk to the gum aisle. My jaw drops. Not only do they have Orbit, but they have added 12 additional flavors since my last time in the States. And now they have new gum called Stride, 5, and Skittles even makes gum. What?! Oh yeah, Extra comes in four new flavors, all in new packaging. Orbit also comes in a little cup-like container that gives you more bang for your buck, but you have to carry around the clunky container as well. So, should you stick to the pack or container? And should you buy the four-pack? Six-pack? Variety pack? No, I’ll just stick to the mint gum, I say to myself. But, what kind of mint? Spearmint? Wintermint? Sweet mint? Mojito? Original?

I panicked and did what any 18-year-old would do in a panic: I ran to my mom. I remember telling her that I can’t even make a freaking decision on what kind of gum I want to buy, and that this shopping trip is over. OVER. We were only in the States for four days in 2006 and I had to get a lot of shopping done. I did it all in one day. Shopping becomes a very easy task when you are afraid to spend more than 20 minutes in any given place.

I was discussing this “options overload” with my roommates the other night. I experience it every time I come back to the States, and I worry now that it doesn’t bother me as much anymore. I had a Communications prof who challenged us to count the number of brands we see on each day for one whole week. We lost count after about 600–per day. I avoided stores that week, but even then my count would exceed 600. It scares me how quickly the inundation of options and advertising becomes normal. I don’t want to get used to this.

You know, I am very excited to be in a place where the only gum is shitty gum. They have five simple flavors of shitty gum. That is all I need. Orbit, Stride, 5, Extra, Wrigleys, Trident–I’ll see you in a few years.

Well, there are two things that really irk me, I suppose. Along with commitment is crap. Crap you accumulate when  living in the United States–anything that exceeds one suitcase of space is too much for me. My parents (okay, my dad) used to talk about all of the crap people had in the US. Garages full of crap. So much crap they have to rent a space to store their crap. I never really understood this fully until I began moving, and found that nothing has much sentimental value to me. No posters, no toys, no trinkets. If a clothing item has been worn in more than three countries in a period of 1-2 years, it is tossed. Nothing is really bought unless it is needed, and even then it should be cheap so you can toss it when you move again. So when my parents suggested I should sell some of my stuff here before I leave, I just chuckled. You want me to sell my crap? Like what, the $8 dish set from Target? The wire shelves that I found in a bag in 555? My bedding that costs less than $20? Hm, not so much.

One of my friends came over to my room here one and looked into my closet and commented on how little I have. They said, “Jesus, trying to make a quick getaway?” I thought for a moment, not having realized that perhaps to a normal person, my lifestyle looks a bit strange. “Well, yeah, I am actually.” It was a bit hard for me for awhile to admit to others that yes, I was trying to make a quick getaway, and that no, I will not settle in New York City. As magical as it may be for some people, the fact that it is in the states is enough for me to get out. Sue me.

Okay, okay, so the commitment part. Yes, I was going to get here eventually. After one rids themself of all of their crap, they must proceed to the dreaded/exciting shutting down and getting out of commitment part. Getting out of your gym membership. Getting out of your phone bill. Getting your deposit back. It is very interesting process, and there is nothing more that I look forward to then have a shit phone that I can use by simply going down to the store and buying a $20 peso card. So lovely, so simple. No Crackberries, no credit cards, no hidden fees. The beauty of life without intermediaries and fcking commitment. Consolidating bank accounts and making life as virtual as possible is exhilarating, freeing–one of the best possible feelings you can imagine. No paper bills, no “automatic deductions”–no bullshit. Not to say that Buenos Aires is free of bullshit. Far from it. But it is not a country built on credit and there are fewer in-between people or policy people that one has to deal with. And if you do, they usually break the rules anyway. For someone who hates crap, its the place to go. Unless by crap, you mean actual dog crap, in which case you should stay far away from BA.

Ah, Buenos Aires. You may have no faith in your government, you may have shit filled streets, and things may take ages to get done in your city, but I love you. And I will see you in two short weeks.

My days have been pretty plain since I quit my marketing job. I work nights, so I get home at 2 AM and sleep for a few hours and then…sit around. It is actually very, very nice. A break is nice. It does, however, allow you to overanalyze your life decisions. Meh, what’s new?

I’ve had a lot of people ask me the dreaded question lately: “So, what is your plan?” I get quite frustrated with this question, not because of the question itself, but because of the lack of a real answer. My plan is to make it work. And I know I will do this, so technically, there is no plan. I still continue to doubt my abilities, though, and I realize that THIS right here is the reason that people cannot veer off of the beaten path. It is the scrutiny that leads to the self-doubt.

Last night I was working with the Scottish bartender at the Irish pub, and I was reading an article from “Home and Away”, the publication for Irish living in the US. There was an article written about the number of young Irish smokers that are unwilling to quit. The article stated that they were aware of the dangers of smoking, but really just did not want to quit. The bartender and I spoke about it for awhile and he said that the reason this happens in Ireland and Europe in general is because people do not tell you what to do. He said that the Puritans were sent to the US because they were telling people how to live, and that this trend has continued until today.

I remember when I came back from my exchange in Brasil and was horrified and disgusted at how youth were treated in the US. My friends and I were literally punished because of our age. More rules, more “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” and less of…less responsibility. My parents took this seriously after my friends and I were handcuffed by cops from eight squad cars for simply being at someone’s house (well, there were a few more details, but it was ultimately a ridiculous situation that was created by paranoia and boredom.) My family decided a few days after to make the move to Mexico and the rest is history.

The decision for us to leave the states was the best one we could have made. It is one that I have to defend, but one that I don’t mind defending. Yes, the vast majority of people don’t get it, but honestly, I don’t give fck. Because I get it. My family gets it. My best friends get it. When something like this occurs in your life, you start to find that those people who avoid the “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” are the ones that you need close to you.

It’s kind of funny how what others think we should want somehow becomes what we want. All of my friends in Oregon and many of my friends in New York thought my job was awesome, and I sort of convinced myself that it was. Our generation lives to have their lives broadcasted, like some sort of reality show. We as people become characters and we create this life for this character. We have LinkedIn, Facebook, Myspace, etc. to show eachother just how goddamn wonderful and accomplished we are. We get drunk at parties and take pictures to show how much fun we’re having. I believe that we are artificially satisfied or happy because that is the way we should be. A+B=C, right? A prestigious job in SoHo should make someone happy, right? Wrong.

For the past week and a half (hey, no laughing) I was coming home to a cold, lonely apartment. I was too tired to see my friends. I found myself staring at a computer screen with a blank look on my face, questioning my life and existence. I looked at my supervisors and realized that I would never, ever aspire to be like them. Their resumes are impressive and they are very, very ahead of their game. I don’t mean to devalue anything that they have ever done, but it is simply not for me.

So, how did it happen, you ask? How did shit go down?

Well, after constructing my exit plan since, well, I began the job, I finally got up the balls to do it. I took the train downtown this morning and almost freaking cried when I got to my stop in SoHo. I knew it was the day. I went to my desk, then was asked to go to storage to pick something up. On the way, I practiced my lines in my head over and over again, and when I came back, I told them. I told them that while I really respected their work and them as people, it simply wasn’t for me. Because my heart wasn’t there, I would only be a detriment. I smiled, said to keep in touch, and left. I went to a coffee shop and wrote an e-mail apologizing for my unprofessional act and thanking them for the opportunity. Reality is, though, that I was an intern. I was there for a week. I’m sure they’ll do a little wtf-ing for awhile, but they’ll recover pretty quickly. I wouldn’t have, however, if I had stayed.

(*Side note: I have never, ever done anything like this. It was probably the scariest thing I have done–I have a quitting complex. I realize how terribly unprofessional it was, but it was, hopefully, a once in a lifetime incident.)

Um, so what is my plan? (ha!) Well, right now I am looking to travel. Not to travel, necessarily, but to leave the states and work. I have 100% faith that I will find something great because I would never settle for less. For the next month I will be working and saving money, and then take off.  Life is too short to “hang in there” or “put in your time.” I am impatient and not willing to waste away my life doing something I should enjoy doing.

So, here is to a more interesting blog! Thanks to readers and parents (are they one and the same?) for your cooperation during this difficult time, and I am excited to have you join me on this journey