Disclaimer: the post is long but worth it. I encourage you to keep reading-- just a forewarning :)
Some days in my boring, Middle America life are like pulling teeth. Most people can relate to going through the motions. Not everyone’s life is as exciting as they want it to be. It’s human nature. But, one Tuesday in late January, I found myself less excited than usual. I woke up, went to school, came back from school, surfed the web for anything I could distract myself with, did my homework and went to bed. I probably ate somewhere during all of this, too (which was probably the most exciting part).
Another boring Tuesday in Kansas City.
Every night before I would go to bed, I would lay in my room and Skype my girlfriend. This night was no different. Skype was the only mode of communication we had, because texting and calling her phone in South America was an expensive hassle.
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| Airport goodbyes |
But, to be honest, we aren’t strangers to distance. I started my college education at MU, only to leave aft8er my first semester to come back to Kansas City. I would go back and visit friends, like Alyssa, during the next semester. The constant flirting and Facebook chatting grew into us hanging out at my house on breaks, which grew into me nervously debating whether she would kiss me if I tried, which grew into me finally doing it, which grew into her not throwing up (which is usually a good sign), which grew into me wondering if she would date me. After all of this “growing”, we finally began dating after our freshman year, at the beginning of our summer breaks. The three months we spent together did not make the fact that we studied in different cities any easier.
After that summer together, it was basically impossible to just not date her. So, after a lot of thought, we decided to keep our relationship going during our schooling. It was hard, sure, but I always liked the excuse to skip town during the weekends to go hang out with an amazing girl and all my old friends.
And so went our relationship, we had Christmas and Thanksgiving, Easter and Memorial Day weekend, regular weekends, and the summer. We found a nice little routine, until last semester she dropped an atomic bomb on my mind. Alyssa told me that her study abroad dream was coming true, and she would be studying in Buenos Aires next semester (immediately, my mind thinks of Pablo Escobar, drug wars, and the South American version of the movie “Taken”).
My jaw dropped, my heart sank, my mind got cloudy, my knees were weak, and basically every other part of my body had a negative reaction, I just don’t have that many adjectives in my brain.
But, I kept my “Spartan” reserve (300 reference) and told her that I wouldn’t even question our relationship. I was confident we liked each other enough to do this. So, I supported her through all of it… kind of.
Of course, we had our fights about it. I felt abandoned, jealous, sad, and worried, and I let her know about it. I acted out in a lot of ways. I mean, my girlfriend was taking off to South America; people aren’t just cool about that. But, it always ended up with us making up and feeling more confident than before.
Right before she left, I had this idea. Maybe if I took her out to a romantic (expensive) dinner and threw her an amazing going away party, she would just quit the dream and stay… the (expensive) plan failed. The dinner and the party both were perfect, other than the fact that I ruined several surprises throughout the night (i.e. the actual party, unexpected arrivals)
Not long after the party, I had to watch her get on a plane and fly over 5,000 miles away from me.
I was sad. It’s not like I went home and put Taylor Swift on repeat and cried in a dark room for three days (I totally did that). But, I did hit a little funk. Though, the feelings dimmed over time. After a while, my sadness turned into apathy. There was no spark to my young collegiate life anymore. No 21 year-old should feel like that, right? I should’ve been shoving shots down my throat and forgetting my name. Instead, I kind of just sat at home.
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| "Screenshots" of a long distance relationship |
But, I needed a spark. I needed something to kick-start the sense of adventure I once had. I needed to feel excitement.
So, I sat down and started playing Call of Duty.
I must’ve got some blood flowing to my brain from the awesome adrenaline rush caused by online massacres, because I then got an even better idea than playing Call of Duty. I decided to fly to South America.
I had my mind set. I was going to get there in some way, shape, or form. I was sick of being lame. I wanted something to give me the boost I needed. South America would do just that, and I knew it. So, I got online to look at ticket prices.
My plan didn’t seem cool anymore.
Alyssa had told me how expensive they were, but actually seeing the prices and then looking at your bank account is a rude awakening. But, as a 21 year-old college student, I wasn’t about to make the smart decision. Sure, I could’ve stuck it out for three months and kept my money. But, where’s the fun in that?
I talked to my boss (my mom) about a pay advance to make up some of the difference (we work together). Her being the cool person that she is, she was totally helpful and supportive. My dad, on the other hand, was the one I was worried about. He has no problem giving me tough love. I had to wait for the right time to tell him, like right before I went to the airport or something. So, I mailed in my passport request and hoped for the best.
After I requested my passport, I had a little more pep in my step. I was getting up earlier, working out more, and going out with friends. As stupid as this would sound to anyone over the age of 30, I felt young again. Looking back, I don’t even know if I felt old. I was just mildly depressed. Now that I think about it, being old and mildly depressed have a lot of similarities.
As March approached, so did my passport and the talk with my father. I was excited to find out how this would all unfold. All I really knew was, I would be in debt to my parents more than I already was. Surprisingly, I was completely calm about it. I figured I have my whole life to save and make money; I only have so long to be dumb. Not that I don’t already take full advantage of the perk anyway.
Right before my mom bought the ticket, she talked to my dad about it. My mom wasn’t exactly giving me a pay advance, but was going to have me pay my dad back instead. That is where most of the fear came from. I don’t want to know what my mom said or did to make my father lend me money, but he did. Maybe the stars were aligned just right (I am not giving my dad the credit he deserves).
The ticket was paid for, the passport had arrived, and I was definitely ready for a break…
***side note***
Right before we left for the airport, my dad went out to get some lunch at Burger King while I packed. When I was just finishing up my packing, he came home with the Burger King and sat down at our kitchen table to eat with me. While eating, he pulled out an envelope and gave me a large sum of money. This was awesome. Basically, he was telling me to go to South America and “make it rain” at the bars and at the clubs. Needless to say, I made my father proud.
We arrive at the airport, check my bag (which ended up 2 lbs. under the 50 lbs. weight limit), and I buy a magazine to prepare for my very long journey to the other half of the world. Right before I go through security, I hug my parents. My mom, expectedly, begins to cry. I say, “Mom, seriously, it’s only a week”, give her another hug, and go sit at my gate. The flight from Kansas City to Dallas was nothing, a simple hour-and-a-half flight. I arrive in Dallas and go straight to an information screen to find out where my next flight is. Little do I know the Dallas airport has a monorail/tram system from gate to gate. So, after I walked around for 40 minutes of my hour layover, I figured out the layout, and made my flight in the knick of time. Literally, these people were calling me wondering where I was. In true Drew Beaven fashion, I showed up last.
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| Flight route Dallas/Fort Worth - Buenos Aires |
The ten-hour flight from Dallas to Buenos Aires started out exciting, but confusing. I had all this paper work to fill out that was in Spanish and butchered translated English for customs. After bothering this guy who was about the same age that I was, I finally filled it out and watched a movie (The King’s Speech was good, by the way). That accounted for two hours of the trip. Then, I watched all the NBC shows they had and an episode of The Big Bang Theory... that accounted for almost two hours. Then, I tried sleeping… that accounted for thirty minutes, before I gave up and listened to my iTunes and read a book… which accounted for about an hour. Then, I tried to fall asleep while watching The Departed (which didn’t work out). After all of this, I still had about 3 hours to go. I awkwardly fell asleep between two other grown men for about an hour, and woke up to the sound of a flight attendant giving me breakfast. I wanted to punch her. Hard.
I had an hour and half left when she woke me up, so I decided to stick it out. I got up to go to the bathroom 10 times during the flight, and actually went to the bathroom twice. It was miserable. I almost fainted in exhaustion at one point, too. Luckily, I got a rush of adrenaline when the pilot came on and said we were landing. I almost kissed both of the men I was sandwiched between (I never imagined I would find myself writing the previous statement).
I land. I get out, fall to my knees, and begin to cry.
That’s not true, but walking through the tunnel from the plane to the gate, I did notice that Buenos Aires smells completely different from anywhere I have ever been. It was refreshing. I walk through the gate, and a man says something to me in Spanish. I had no idea what he said, not because I am terrible at Spanish, but because I was so tired it sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher. I just nod and walk to what turned out to be the right direction. I then hit a long line at customs. I wanted to cry. But, I held back the tears one last time and made it through the line. Luckily, the guy at customs spoke a little English. After he stamped my passport, I walk to get my bag, put it through another security machine, and walk through stained glass double doors into the airports lobby.
I look awful. I smell like I have been spooning with two grown men. I have my sunglasses half hanging off of my face. I feel like keeling over and asking for someone to put me in a wheelchair.
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| Reunited :) |
Alyssa was standing to the right of the doors with a smile that couldn’t get any bigger. My heart jumps, my vision clears, my senses are heightened. I smile back at her as much as I could. She walks around a crowd in a semi-haste, as if she wanted to run, but didn’t want people to think she was crazy. I wanted to run too, honestly, but simply did not have the ability. We finally touch each other for the first time in over two months. We hug, we kiss, hug again, kiss again, and finally hug for about a minute. Alyssa begins to cry. I wipe the tears away, put my sunglasses on her so no one can see her puffy eyes, and we walk away from what can be only described as a super uncomfortable hellish death pit that was my plane ride.
It was my first airport reunion. I have to say, it was pretty emotional.
The airport is beautiful. There is a glass roof, so sunlight is pouring in. I ask for my sunglasses back. Walking through, I was already immersed in the Spanish language. It was so odd watching people hold complete conversations in a different language. Naturally, I could only catch on to certain words and phrases.
We walk out to the front of the airport, where we were met by what I thought was some sort of concierge, a person who would call for a cab for you. Alyssa and I were still all over each other, barely deciding if we were going to take a cab or bus. We were more amazed at the fact that I actually went to Argentina for her. We were still in shock, if you will. Finally, I decided that I wanted to get home as quickly and comfortably as we can. Then, it happened. I heard Alyssa hold a Spanish conversation. I have to say, I was very impressed.
We get in this guy’s car, not cab, because he was an illegal cab driver who got extra money by giving people rides from the airport. I would usually care if Alyssa did this, but I was there with her and I wanted to go to sleep, so I happily got in his car.
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| Disuse of lanes in Buenos Aires |
Her apartment and room are both smaller than I expected, but charming in it’s own way. The entire country is, I don’t want to say run-down, but not as well kept as the United States. Her apartment was no different. It was still really cool though. The only problem was the two inch TV she had. I don’t even think it is color, let alone HD. Electronics in South America are not as abundant as they are in the States. Anyway, I came in, said hi to her roommate Kylie (who I had gotten to know virtually over Skype), and passed out. Alyssa got to work from home, so she would occasionally wake me up to see if I was ready for the day. The usual answer was a mumble, leading to me passing back out.
Alyssa got all of her work done, woke me up, and informed me that she had gotten tickets to a futbol game. I was excited, but I almost didn’t want to go I was so tired. I had to though, because you don’t really travel that far to sit at home. So, like a champion, I drank some really good Argentine orange juice, got my wits about me, and took off for the game.
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| Chorizo (sausage) + Pan (bread) = Choripan |
Apparently, the meat in Argentina is done very well. I know this, now, from personal experience.
Anyway, we had a beer and a choripan, and then walked into the stadium. It was on the intimidating side, to say the least. Police officers that look like swat team members stood by, with huge shields and nightsticks. I had never realized the potential violence that could happen at these games until I saw these officers.
They take their sport seriously; I found this out quickly. I have been to Boston Red Sox/New York Yankee game, MU-KU rivalry games, Chief’s games, and a Cardinals game. All are said to have some really passionate fans. None of them compared to the passion and dedication these South Americans had for their team. This team was one of many teams in the Buenos Aires area. It was the meaning of sports passion.
The soccer (excuse me, futbol) was the best I had ever seen live. It was like watching a world cup game. This was not a Wizards game (I refuse to call them Sporting Kansas City). What’s worse, I went to a Wizards game when they were actually good. Still, there is no comparison. Even to a sports fan that isn’t crazy about soccer, the difference in skill was noticeable.
After a 4-1 victory by the home team, Independiente, Nacho took us back to his car and drove us back to Recoleta, Alyssa’s neighborhood.
Recoleta was a cool place to live. It was an upper-middle class neighborhood with a large amount of restaurant/bars and a weird amount of strip clubs. There was an American Bar (American meaning influenced by the United States) right across the street from their apartment, strip clubs to the right, and the famous Recoleta Cemetery to the left. Across from the cemetery was a strip of bars and restaurants, where I fell in love with empanadas from La Continental, a restaurant chain in Argentina. Basically, Alyssa and her roommates didn’t have to go far for food and drinks. It was a great place for them to live.
But, of course, that is not the only part of town. In fact, I got my first taste of Buenos Aires the very next day at 9:30.
Alyssa had class Tuesday morning and was worried to leave me in her apartment for the maid to find me. I didn’t see what the big deal was, but apparently they get complaints about houseguests. Being the trooper that I am, I woke up at 9:30 in the morning on my vacation to take a bus ride to Alyssa’s school, Austral University (Universidad Austral). On the way, I got to see La Casa Rosada, or “the Pink House”. It is the Argentine version of the white house. I laughed because it seemed feminine, but I came to find out that the president was actually a girl. Still, the next time they elect a man, I am totally laughing again. On a serious note, I have never been to Washington D.C., so I really didn’t realize how accessible these houses are. Both of them are located in the middle of the city for everyone to see. La Casa Rosada was beautiful, tough. It was so similar to the White House it almost made me think it was the inspiration for the building. I’m sure it is, but that is speculation.
The school, like most of Argentina, seemed like it was built thirty years ago. The facilities weren’t the greatest. It certainly doesn’t compare to the major universities in the United States. Still, it had its charm. When Alyssa went to class, I left the school and went across the street to order breakfast. I was on my own. I actually texted my friends to tell them I was alone in a foreign country. I felt like an explorer or something.
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| Medialunas |
The students there were EXACTLY like the students here. The way they talk to each other and their body language was almost identical. It was just a different language. Even with the teachers, you could tell there was a work place camaraderie by noticing their facials expressions, body language, and tones. It made me realize how similar people are around the world. Sure, in some places, like tribal aborigines in Africa, there isn’t really common ground. But, when talking about modern day civilization (cities, towns, etc.) the differences we have seem so little compared to the similarities we share.
That’s enough worldly philosophy, for now, though.
After Alyssa’s class, we took the bus back to her place and did nothing particularly exciting. Sadly, we did get back to her apartment and found out the maid didn’t come. Although I was a little disappointed at the lack of sleep, I was ultimately happy I went with her. I want to know her day-to-day routine. After we hung out, got lunch, and gushed over each other, I found myself needing another nap. So, I took the opportunity to do so when Alyssa went to her second class. This simple nap proved to be an ordeal.
Alyssa’s roommate, Amy, had a friend visit her the same time I did. She, like me, had to find things to do during the day while the girls were at work or school. While I was napping, she, apparently, went out and about to discover the city. When she came back, though, she had trouble getting into the apartment. There was something wrong with the lock. I was asleep and could not hear the struggle. She later told me she kept buzzing the doorbell to try and wake me. I wish she knew beforehand that I sleep like a hibernating bear… I woke up, walked around the apartment, wondering when everyone would be home. About a half hour later, there was banging on the door. I went to the door and was informed that the key wasn’t working. I tried to open it from the inside, but they didn’t have locks like they did here. I was simply supposed to just turn the knob from the inside and it would open, but it wouldn’t budge. I was locked on the eighth floor of an apartment complex. This was better than being locked in the hallway, I guess, like the girls. I started passing notes with Alyssa under the door to cheer her up, but you could still sense the tension coming from outside. Eventually, a locksmith came and got the door open, and charged them 300 U.S. dollars! This was over 1,000 in pesos. Eventually, we all cheered up and went out to dinner.
We walked to a place called Sanjuanina, a cool and cramped restaurant in Recoleta. This is where I had my first empanadas, which turned out to be delicious. I had two chicken and one veggie empanada (which the girls forced me to order myself so they could hear me speak Spanish) and had my first and only taste of Sangria (wine and punch mixed together). We finished dinner at around one, walked Alyssa’s friend Anna home, and went back to the apartment. I was pissed that we lost 2 hours of our day to a bad lock, but still had a terrific time hanging out with my girlfriend and her new friends.
Alyssa and I lucked out the week I was there. She got off of work more than we ever expected. Except, she still had to fulfill her duties on Wednesday and Thursday. So, I had a lot of “me” time.
I took the time that she was at work to discover Buenos Aires. I had no plan but to see things. I just walked.
I got lost in the city (literally). I took pictures of the shops, super markets, walk-in food stores and the architecture. The city reminded me of Boston for some reason, but it cannot really be compared to it. Being from the Midwest, I have only so much experience with a huge metropolitan like Buenos Aires (and Boston is one of the few big cities I have been to). The architecture, from what I was told, is French. That means absolutely nothing to me, but if someone who knows about French architecture read this they would have a better understanding of what it looks like. It was definitely different, though, I’ll say that. In Kansas City, buildings tend to be wider and shorter. In Buenos Aires, I feel like they saved space by building upward. Everything was right off the sidewalk, too… I can’t imagine owning a car in that city. I did not see one parking lot.
The people there move fast. I was constantly getting passed on sidewalks and street crossings. By Midwest standards, I am a slow moving person. Just imagine the dirty looks I got from men, ladies, teenagers, children and even old women zooming by me on their way to what I can only assume by their haste to be the most important task on the face of the earth. I’m sorry, but every one of those people were bumping and shoving their way to whatever they were doing and it got annoying being the slow gringo loser kid... Then again, I was on vacation spacing out about the architecture.
I wandered around and took pictures, held a few terrible conversations, and somehow made my way back to Alyssa’s apartment.
That night, Alyssa and I sat around and hung out. Alyssa and I both like to go out and have fun. But, for some reason, when we are together we usually end up renting a movie and watching it on a couch somewhere. We enjoy being boring together. I originally told myself that I was not going to waste any time in a foreign country being boring, but that plan failed once I realized how much I missed it. So, on Wednesday, we ordered cheeseburgers and fries and just sat in her apartment. I know I run the risk of sounding completely cheesy, but these were my favorite nights. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to see the city. But, I think it is common knowledge that I would’ve never gone to South America if it weren’t for Alyssa’s study abroad program. We sat around and caught up on some much needed alone time. Which, of course, always ends with Alyssa passing out early to a movie I chose. Neither of us worried about having too little fun, though. We had a pub crawl planned for the next day: St. Patrick’s Day.
I woke up the next morning and put on my green shirt. This has always been one of my favorite holidays, even when I couldn’t drink. I had memories of my mom and dad taking me to the St. Patrick’s Day parade in downtown Kansas City. I loved the smell of street vendors cooking hot dogs and sausages while trying to find someone we knew on one of the floats. Plus, I always conned my mom into buying me some stupid souvenir that I would never wear another day in my life. I was sad I was not in Kansas City for my first legal St. Patrick’s Day. But, Buenos Aires wasn’t a bad substitute.
After I walked the city a while, Alyssa got home for her daily obligations and we went to buy tickets for the pub crawl. We actually bought it from an American who lives in Buenos Aires and runs a pub crawl for every night of the week. I don’t know if many people can drink that often, but it still sounds like a badass job.
After we got lost, went to the mall, got a choripan, and met up with Alyssa’s roommates, we left for the pub crawl.
We started in little park across from a strip of bars. They were handing out free slices of pizza and beer for the entire party. We showed up a little late, so most of the alcohol was gone. We did manage to get slices of pizza, though. The group hung out there for a while, gawking at the two midgets who dressed up like leprechauns. Finally, they gathered us around, split us into three groups, and we went to our first bar.
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| Oh hey Buddha |
The second bar was a lot more fun. I don’t know if it was because of the amount of alcohol in our system by that time, but we all loosened up a bit. The place was packed and I had developed a good buzz. I managed to chase down one of the midgets and get a picture with him. He was really cool about it and shook my hand after. Other than that, it was just good conversation and me making a fool out of myself by developing the catchphrase “Che boludo”. This, in English, means “What’s up big balls”. I said this to both men and women throughout the night.
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| The group + leprechaun |
The next morning wasn’t as fun as the previous night, but we did wake up feeling great that Alyssa had the entire day off. We took the opportunity to recover from the pub crawl and went to see the Recoleta cemetery, which was located right next to her apartment complex. It was a huge cemetery with quite a few famous Argentine citizens, including Eva Peron.
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| Walking among the dead in Recoleta Cemetery |
It was interesting though, seeing the famous people who had passed and were buried there. There were dozens of stories that went along with the mausoleums. For example, a young girl who was pronounced dead woke up in her coffin in the middle of the night. The gravedigger heard noises coming from the mausoleum, but got spooked and left. They eventually checked the coffin and saw nail marks on the inside of her coffin from her trying to escape.
I know, it sucks.
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| With the flor |
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| First Argentine Steak |
On Saturday, Alyssa wanted to show me one of her favorite things to do on the weekends in Buenos Aires. La Plaza Francia is a weekend fair that allows people to bring and sell art or souvenir-like gifts to anyone who stops by. It is held at a park a block or two away from Alyssa’s apartment. We walked around and gawked at all the interesting things people had to offer. Literally, I bought all of my souvenirs there. Alyssa and I spent a lot of time there, walking hand in hand while she translated the deals I was making. I bought several things and a really good time doing it. Also, I enjoyed hot weather for the first time the whole trip (it had been low 60s the rest of the time).
Later, we decided to go out to dinner at a little steakhouse the girls had previously gone too. It was cramped, but was still a really nice place. I got another steak, which tasted better than the one I had on Friday, and enjoyed some mash potatoes and even more red wine.
In an effort to blow the money I had before I left, I went out to the bars with Alyssa, Kylie, Anna, and a group of their work friends. It was an American bar that had UFC fights on TV and some really nostalgic 90’s rock music. It was really fun, though I think I had more fun than the girls because they gave me shots that filled a fourth of a plastic cup. We stayed there for a couple hours, dropped Anna off, and went back to her apartment. When we got there, we got late night drunk food from some restaurant I don’t remember the name of (I wonder why). I do remember the pancakes with chocolate syrup filled with whipped cream with a side of ice cream, though. After I shoved that down my throat, I quickly went and passed out.The next day proved to be the saddest, Alyssa and I were coming to the realization that I had a flight to catch. So, during the day, we went back to La Plaza Francia to get a few extra gifts, got a choripan, and went home to hang out during our final hours together. The mood grew dimmer as my departure approached. We recapped our week and gushed over how fun it was all while trying to keep a positive demeanor. Spending a week in a foreign country with your girlfriend is probably most exciting thing a person can do; going from that to normal every day life is pretty depressing.
We caught a cab to the bus station, bought two tickets (only on of them was round trip), and waited there in sulky moods. We didn’t even want to talk.
On the bus ride there, Alyssa needed my sunglasses again.
We got to the airport and waited to check my bag for a good half hour. I tried my best to cheer Alyssa up during the wait, but had a hard time knowing that I had to leave to get on a ten hour plane ride back to the United States. We had some time to kill, so we had our last meal together at a little sandwich shop next to my gate.
Soon enough, it was time for me to go. I kissed Alyssa one last time and went through security awaiting the hellish plane ride that I was about to endure. I was sad, but I wanted to be back home at the same time.
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| Choripan |
It was perfect.
--- Andrew Beaven
Perfect Boyfriend
Friend to midgets
Porteño
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