Paros and Pancakes

Argh, I just managed to lose half a blog entry, which is pretty frustrating as I had done some serious editing and recrafting of my sentences to get them the way I wanted. But all of that effort was for naught as I am now left with nothing. So I will try to recreate the previous version, but I make no promises, not that any of you know what you will be missing. Anyway, here goes.

As of 5:30 Friday afternoon I had been awake for 11 hours straight. 6 of which I had spent sitting on a white plastic chair in a large room in the Dirección Nacional de Migraciones. Arriving at 7:30 on that grey morning I walked into a covered passageway to the courtyard to escape the rain. As my eyes adjusted to the shadows I saw walls lined with faces. Faces waiting for their chance to study, work, or just simply live in Argentina. I made my way through them to the back where I first heard and then saw the group of brightly clothed COPA students. When the office finally opened at 8:00 and the line began to snake forward we joined the end like twist in an M. Night Shyamalan movie. He's dead?! What?! Oh.... well, I suppose that makes sense. American students need visas too.

Once inside the fun really began, and by fun I mean sitting on a supremely uncomfortable plastic chair in a room full of other people sitting on supremely uncomfortable plastic chair as we waited for the women wielding the official stamps to notice us. Behind desks on dais like queens commanding a kingdom they sat looking disgruntled and ever so slightly Slavic. But maybe that was just the wealth of paperwork on their desks and variety of stamps at their disposal. Somehow I had the luck to be among the final six students to meekly present my offering of paperwork to the visa goddesses. I'm mixing my metaphors I know, but after 6 hours the lines between queens, goddesses, and government officials had been significantly blurred. Either way, after presenting her with my paperwork I watched as she stamped each photocopied page of my passport with three separate stamps. I was then sent on my way to await the cashier's two stamps recognizing my payment. This step completed I returned to sign 7 separate forms, reading none of them. I could have very well been signing myself into eternal servitude to the Argentine Agricultural Ministry. It may yet turn out that I have. All forms signed I was sent back to my seat to wait, again. A half an hour later my official document was ready, and I was free to go. Like a domesticated animal being returned to the wild I paused for a moment, not knowing what do to, before making straight for the rectangle of open sky, blinking as I reached the grey afternoon light.

But of course, my piece of paper is only good for 40-65 days, at which time I have to return for the real thing and some more stamps. Of course.

I am officially declaring pancakes to be one of the best foods on earth. Why, you ask? First a bit of back story... Gabriela, Lorenzo, and Gustavo are probably flying down the slopes of Barriloche as a type this which means several things,. 1 - Nunzia (Gabriela's mom who is Sicillian and a snob, but in an amusing way) has been coming over to have dinner with me. 2 - When it was disgustingly hot and sticky a couple of days ago I had no qualms about stripping down to my underwear while watching tv. And 3 - The kitchen is almost completely at my disposal. I say almost because Rosi is around to make me dinner and sometimes during the day to do a bit of spring cleaning. However, for all intents and purposes, I can mess around as much as I want. And here come the pancakes...

The heat broke a couple of days ago resulting in much raining, thundering, and general grossness out of doors. It also made the idea of walking to the supermarket less than appealing. After examining my store of ingredients, doing a little investigation the web and some more to find the missing pieces of my recipe in the kitchen, I settled on oatmeal pancakes. Wow. They were delicious, easy to make, and should be easy to adjust to whatever ingredients I want to add, subtract, or substitute. And, when eaten with fruit they are acceptably healthy. Thus, they are the perfect food.

So aside from Gaby and company, the professors are also on leave. Though somehow I doubt that they will be flying down ski slopes. Aside from my Tuesday morning professor who chose not to take part, there is a paro (strike) going on at UBA. I believe it is for better salaries, which, considering it is a completely free university that educates tens of thousands of students, isn't terribly shocking. I am continually amazed that one can get a respectable degree without paying for more than photocopies of the material. While being in favour of the idea, I am also in favour of paying professional educators a fair salary. And if I have to miss class for that to happen, so be it. I will happily find some other way to occupy myself this coming Wednesday. :-D

The photo is of Chris (or Chirstopher according to his passport, thanks U.S. government) and Avigail. Chris was also among the last 6 to get his visa. To kill some time I taught him to count to ten and be sleazy in Polish.

Also, for those of you who haven't noticed, I have made an addition to my blog: links to my friends' blogs. Apparently I have started a trend as a couple of my friends who are also studying abroad have started their own blogs detailing their adventures. "A Young Man's Adventures in Mother Russia" is written by Charlie who is studying abroad in Yaroslavl, Russia. "Ben in Barcelona" is, well, by Ben, who is in Barcelona. And "Life in Translation" is written by Morgan who is studying on both sides of the border between El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Mexico. If you've some the time you ought to check them out.