I think I let myself feel defeated too quickly, too easily, for the first month in Buenos Aires. Psychologically speaking, this is normal, I know. Stress compounds other difficulties. Being unemployed and without a permanent place to live turned discovering missing items from the grocery store into an insurmountable crisis when it should have been a minor nuisance. While, I’ve always considered myself to be an open-minded, creative individual, I’ll admit I haven’t felt like one since I moved here. It’s not easy to realize that you’re not who you thought you were. Yes, I’m still open-minded and creative, but it takes so much more than that to live abroad in a developing country. So far, I haven’t been very accommodating to inconvenience, and in many ways that has put a damper on enjoying (noticing, even) the wonderful aspects of this country where I ‘m living, this gigantic, sprawling megacity.
Ever since I was fourteen, I’ve been employed. My first job as a dishwasher/busser at the restaurant where my dad was bartender/bar manager lasted for about a year and half. After that, I clerked at a local pharmacy near my house. And then I took a pay-cut and worked in the kitchen at a local natural food co-op, because I thought I was a hippie and that job was way cooler. Throughout high school, I also worked for my uncle at a coffee shop at the summer festivals, in addition to whichever other job I had at the time. When I turned 18, I began serving at the country club where my dad and sister were working. Throughout college, I kept that job, returning home for holidays and summers from the University of Minnesota. Of course, I also had a few jobs in Minneapolis, as well. Then transferring to Milwaukee for my last two years of school, I, once again, worked at the country club. I worked there until I moved to Spokane for Grad School. In Spokane, I found another serving job that lasted for the whole two years I lived there. And then I moved back to Milwaukee where I once again worked at the country club to save money before moving to Buenos Aires.
Now I’m in Buenos Aires, and I’m relatively unemployed. Before the tangent about my work history, I mentioned that I was neglecting to enjoy Buenos Aires to the extent that it deserves to be enjoyed. Well, let’s begin. No one here seems to look down on me for not working all the time, let alone being completely unemployed. When Brandon and I first came to look at this house where we’re now living, Sandra, one of the sisters who owns the house, didn’t seem to care whether or not we were working. Because of Luna, it seemed to me that Sandra would probably feel more comfortable if we were around the house, to look after her. Imagine a landlord who doesn’t care if you have job. Granted, Americans don’t usually move out of the country without some savings, but in the states, anyone would be hard-pressed to find a landlord who couldn’t care less about their employment status.
I’m thinking about this today, because last night I got into an uncomfortable Skype discussion with my dad about my job situation. Because of some wealthy, country-clubber he works for, he has the idea in his head that I can just walk into some company that has a location in Buenos Aires, and tell them “I know so-and-so” and they will give me a job. He says, I might as well try it, what have I got to lose? I know he is just trying to help, but I don’t want help, not from him, not from anyone. I don’t want anyone pressuring me to do things I don’t want to do. Last night was the second time he brought it up, and I know my father—he won’t quit until I do what he wants me to do. Ugh. Thank you, Argentinean culture for making me feel comfortable here, regardless of my employment status. Thank you, Argentina for finally relieving me from the workaholic atmosphere I’ve been surrounded by my entire life. It’s nice to have a break from that wrinkle-inducing, blood-pressure-raising lifestyle that is the standard in the United States.
With that said, I did find possibly unreliable employment, writing freelance blogs for a website to promote their products. They pay $20USD per blog, and would like me to write at least 10 blogs per month. It’s easy, and I can work from home. Of course, I’m still looking for other work, but for now, I’m happy to have found something. Now, hopefully, my dad will get off my case, and I can start enjoying the judgment-free living that I was too busy to notice before.
And now that I (kind of, maybe) have a job, as well as a secure residence, those insurmountable food crises I’d been experiencing truly have become the minor nuisances that they actually are. (This subject of missing food has even been incorporated into my recent poetry). Yes, I want a burrito, or some decent nachos that don’t have liquid cheese slathered across them. Yes, it is impossible to find tortillas or tortilla chips in the markets or grocery stores around here. True, I can’t have a real burrito like I remember it (so vividly…). But with a little patience and some (not much, in this case) creativity, it is possible to improvise some American-style Mexican food in the comfort of my own Buenos Aires home.
While there are no big, delicious tortillas, there is something similar: a product called Rapiditas. They’re small, round flour makeshift tortillas— albeit low-quality(they tend to fall apart), but I’m not complaining. Aside from sour cream, which I don't think can be found here, the rest of the ingredients that are used to make that burrito that exists so lavishly in my memory, I have finally located. I was in a state of hopelessness regarding my burrito fantasy when I thought black/pinto beans were only a product of the Northern hemisphere, but it turns out I was just looking for them in the wrong place. Black beans aren’t a canned-good here—they can only be found in the bulk area of the grocery store, or somewhere near the rice in a small market. I bet these are healthier than the canned ones anyway. Rapiditas+black beans+rice+corn+lettuce+tomato+guacamole+(ground beef, if I feel like it)=tacos!
Speaking of food, I want to talk about the delicious burgers Brandon and I made last night. Next time.
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