http://www.slate.com/id/2290317
I feel like the same artist also did IKEA instructions.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
On dubbing
So those who know me are familiar with my obsession with Colin Firth (Mr. Darcy...'nuff said). This celebrity crush, along with good reviews from family, friends, and the experts in charge of Golden Globe and Academy Award nominations, have made me really really want to see The King's Speech. I have been waiting for weeks for it to finally reach the cultural backwaters (Albi). Each week I look up the movie listings only to be disappointed. Until this week. As I was enjoying the lovely sunshine yesterday, I walked by the movie theater and was very excited to see that Colin Firth would soon be gracing my local movie screen.
My patience and lawfulness (despite being sorely tempted, I have not watched a bootlegged version on the internet) were about to be rewarded!
Then two little letters showed me how wrong I was: VF.
This stands for Version française (French Version), which means that the movie has been dubbed in French (as opposed to subtitling).
It was at this moment that it occurred to me that I had a built-in ranting vehicle in my blog. So hold onto your hats, ladies and gentlemen, here we go:
First, let's talk about the absolute ridiculousness that is dubbing. My primary complaint is that it greatly reduces the enjoyment of the viewing experience. The fact that the sound doesn't match up with the lips is irritating, extremely obvious and jarring when projected on a large screen, and indeed makes the whole thing faintly ridiculous. This is, of course, rather exacerbated by the new voices, which not only sound nothing like the original actors' voices, but also all seem curiously similar, as though one male and one female voice actor were contracted to do all the work. Or perhaps robots were chosen, as they additionally seem incapable of conveying the appropriate emotions. I don't know about you, but I prefer not to be giggling through a serious drama because of an over-the-top voice that screams out a full sentence where the actor's lips form a single word.
This effectively not only reduces the overall quality of the film, but also the value as the product of another culture. If I wanted to go to a movie and hear French, I would go to a French movie. Part of the value of an international movie is you get to experience another culture, including a foreign language. And, although I know we're not the major audience abroad, it's rather nice for the expats. Not to mention the fact that, in the particular case of The King's Speech, language is a major issue, and I hazard a guess that a lot would be lost in translation.
Dubbing also adds a wholly unnecessary level of expense and delay to international exports. Whereas subtitling can be accomplished with a team of translators, dubbing adds another step and more expenditures in voice actors and recording another soundtrack. So not only do I not get my movie in its original form, I get it much later.
This all relates of course to live-action films. Jury's still out on animated movies. The ostensible reason for dubbing as opposed to subtitling, of course, is protection of cultural heritage. As animated movies are usually meant for a younger audience which often cannot read and is still learning its native language, I am inclined to find dubbing less of a problem here. But as for older audiences, I'm pretty sure that they are both fully literate and well integrated into their native culture. I repeat, if you are uncomfortable hearing any language but your own in a movie theater, why are you paying to see this movie? I would also like to add that the French government spends a whole lot of money on its cultural protectionism (here I will admit I think the US has some things to learn in terms of cultural, historical, and artistic subsidies). It also has paid for me to be here. What I mean by this is that the French also spend a lot of money to bring in native speakers of other languages so that their children can hear authentic speech because they have decided that French people are not gifted at foreign languages, especially as regards pronunciation. Now, is it me or could foreign films perhaps be a source of authentic foreign speech...or at least if left undubbed?
Well, silly me for expecting rational government decisions. Next I'll be asking for the importation of cheddar cheese. Meanwhile, I'll have to either go to Toulouse to see Colin Firth in English, wait for it to come out on DVD, or check out my illegal download options.
My patience and lawfulness (despite being sorely tempted, I have not watched a bootlegged version on the internet) were about to be rewarded!
Then two little letters showed me how wrong I was: VF.
This stands for Version française (French Version), which means that the movie has been dubbed in French (as opposed to subtitling).
It was at this moment that it occurred to me that I had a built-in ranting vehicle in my blog. So hold onto your hats, ladies and gentlemen, here we go:
First, let's talk about the absolute ridiculousness that is dubbing. My primary complaint is that it greatly reduces the enjoyment of the viewing experience. The fact that the sound doesn't match up with the lips is irritating, extremely obvious and jarring when projected on a large screen, and indeed makes the whole thing faintly ridiculous. This is, of course, rather exacerbated by the new voices, which not only sound nothing like the original actors' voices, but also all seem curiously similar, as though one male and one female voice actor were contracted to do all the work. Or perhaps robots were chosen, as they additionally seem incapable of conveying the appropriate emotions. I don't know about you, but I prefer not to be giggling through a serious drama because of an over-the-top voice that screams out a full sentence where the actor's lips form a single word.
This effectively not only reduces the overall quality of the film, but also the value as the product of another culture. If I wanted to go to a movie and hear French, I would go to a French movie. Part of the value of an international movie is you get to experience another culture, including a foreign language. And, although I know we're not the major audience abroad, it's rather nice for the expats. Not to mention the fact that, in the particular case of The King's Speech, language is a major issue, and I hazard a guess that a lot would be lost in translation.
Dubbing also adds a wholly unnecessary level of expense and delay to international exports. Whereas subtitling can be accomplished with a team of translators, dubbing adds another step and more expenditures in voice actors and recording another soundtrack. So not only do I not get my movie in its original form, I get it much later.
This all relates of course to live-action films. Jury's still out on animated movies. The ostensible reason for dubbing as opposed to subtitling, of course, is protection of cultural heritage. As animated movies are usually meant for a younger audience which often cannot read and is still learning its native language, I am inclined to find dubbing less of a problem here. But as for older audiences, I'm pretty sure that they are both fully literate and well integrated into their native culture. I repeat, if you are uncomfortable hearing any language but your own in a movie theater, why are you paying to see this movie? I would also like to add that the French government spends a whole lot of money on its cultural protectionism (here I will admit I think the US has some things to learn in terms of cultural, historical, and artistic subsidies). It also has paid for me to be here. What I mean by this is that the French also spend a lot of money to bring in native speakers of other languages so that their children can hear authentic speech because they have decided that French people are not gifted at foreign languages, especially as regards pronunciation. Now, is it me or could foreign films perhaps be a source of authentic foreign speech...or at least if left undubbed?
Well, silly me for expecting rational government decisions. Next I'll be asking for the importation of cheddar cheese. Meanwhile, I'll have to either go to Toulouse to see Colin Firth in English, wait for it to come out on DVD, or check out my illegal download options.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Welcome Back!
So here I am back in France! I have therefore resurrected and rechristened the blog.
I am ostensibly here to teach English to the French high schoolers, because the French (unlike the Americans) have realized the necessity of multilingualism in an increasingly global world. They also have the conception, in direct contradiction of their often stereotypically chauvinistic views, that the nation as a whole is terrible at foreign languages. They tend to blame it on a physical incapacity: the French language supposedly renders the native speaker unable to properly mimic non-French sounds. I'm skeptical, and I don't think, from what I have seen so far, that the French are any worse at languages than anybody else I've seen.
In any case, the French government, in its infinite wisdom has contracted me to simply speak English with these kids. I have been given a rather terrifying amount of liberty in lesson planning ("so if you can just...get them to talk as much as possible") and thrown in front of a group of fifteen or so adolescents.
So far it's turned out alright. The kids are alternately timid or disruptive, very competent speakers or struggling with forming a question, but variety is the spice of life, right (I try to tell myself that, as any one group will only see me once every two weeks, meaning I have a very large number of different groups)?
The interesting part so far has been the living in France. Between the bureaucracy and paperwork (opening a bank account, immigration forms, etc.) and the kids, I'm a little exhausted. I think the issue with getting settled has been that I feel like I'm starting from zero with everything I do. I spent days running around trying to get internet in the building we assistants are living in. Despite being on the school campus and having housed assistants in years past, it took us three weeks to get that set up, and it included getting a man in to put in a phone line (of course only one of the rooms had a phone jack, so I had to switch rooms). We still don't have access to the school computers, despite having asked four different people every day for a week. I spent the first week after I got here trying to figure out my schedule, get my attendance book and class lists, and filling out paperwork so I could get paid. I still don't have a schedule for my second school (I am splitting my hours between two high schools). And every time I just keep wondering why they couldn't have done this beforehand? It was a surprise to nobody that they were going to host four language assistants. They'd been in school a month before we got here. They've had assistants every year for the past five or ten years. It makes you frustrated enough to want to kick things.
Oh and then there are the strikes. I won't go too much into detail but I'll just say that half the students are on strike too, to the point that today I had one class of three students and another of just a single student. I find it admirable that the French are politically involved and active, that they are willing to stand up and protest when their government is doing something they don't agree with (something Americans could learn from), but goodness sakes let's get on with it already.
I realize much of this post has focused on some of the frustration I've been feeling but I assure you there are parts I love as well. I will talk more about Albi in a future post but it's a beautiful little town and the people have been extremely friendly. I'm eating my weight in bread and cheese, as well as fresh fruits and vegetables from the markets, and the teaching is rewarding as or more often as it is frustrating.
Miss you all, love from France.
I am ostensibly here to teach English to the French high schoolers, because the French (unlike the Americans) have realized the necessity of multilingualism in an increasingly global world. They also have the conception, in direct contradiction of their often stereotypically chauvinistic views, that the nation as a whole is terrible at foreign languages. They tend to blame it on a physical incapacity: the French language supposedly renders the native speaker unable to properly mimic non-French sounds. I'm skeptical, and I don't think, from what I have seen so far, that the French are any worse at languages than anybody else I've seen.
In any case, the French government, in its infinite wisdom has contracted me to simply speak English with these kids. I have been given a rather terrifying amount of liberty in lesson planning ("so if you can just...get them to talk as much as possible") and thrown in front of a group of fifteen or so adolescents.
So far it's turned out alright. The kids are alternately timid or disruptive, very competent speakers or struggling with forming a question, but variety is the spice of life, right (I try to tell myself that, as any one group will only see me once every two weeks, meaning I have a very large number of different groups)?
The interesting part so far has been the living in France. Between the bureaucracy and paperwork (opening a bank account, immigration forms, etc.) and the kids, I'm a little exhausted. I think the issue with getting settled has been that I feel like I'm starting from zero with everything I do. I spent days running around trying to get internet in the building we assistants are living in. Despite being on the school campus and having housed assistants in years past, it took us three weeks to get that set up, and it included getting a man in to put in a phone line (of course only one of the rooms had a phone jack, so I had to switch rooms). We still don't have access to the school computers, despite having asked four different people every day for a week. I spent the first week after I got here trying to figure out my schedule, get my attendance book and class lists, and filling out paperwork so I could get paid. I still don't have a schedule for my second school (I am splitting my hours between two high schools). And every time I just keep wondering why they couldn't have done this beforehand? It was a surprise to nobody that they were going to host four language assistants. They'd been in school a month before we got here. They've had assistants every year for the past five or ten years. It makes you frustrated enough to want to kick things.
Oh and then there are the strikes. I won't go too much into detail but I'll just say that half the students are on strike too, to the point that today I had one class of three students and another of just a single student. I find it admirable that the French are politically involved and active, that they are willing to stand up and protest when their government is doing something they don't agree with (something Americans could learn from), but goodness sakes let's get on with it already.
I realize much of this post has focused on some of the frustration I've been feeling but I assure you there are parts I love as well. I will talk more about Albi in a future post but it's a beautiful little town and the people have been extremely friendly. I'm eating my weight in bread and cheese, as well as fresh fruits and vegetables from the markets, and the teaching is rewarding as or more often as it is frustrating.
Miss you all, love from France.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Let's see how far we've come
So last night as we were walking back from class, there was a bicyclist who had had an accident lying in the middle of the road. People were rushing to help him, somebody was calling 911, and others were running into the street to stop oncoming traffic. I think he was probably going to be ok, but he wasn't wearing a helmet and he started spasming as we walked by, so I don't know.
Anyway, the point of telling this story was to say, first of all, that you should ALWAYS wear your helmet. End of story. Secondly, it got me thinking about taking advantage of life. Between that, the metro crash on the red line in DC, and spending the entire weekend cooped up writing papers, I've been thinking about how much there is to do and see in the world.
The major thing that studying abroad has taught me is how little I know. I feel like I'm constantly learning new things, searching things out, traveling. And I still know very little about almost anything. Take geography and politics, for example.
So, reaffirmation of an old goal: take advantage. Get out and see and learn as much as possible. And that can happen even back at home.
Philosophical musings aside, I've been trying to enjoy my last month or so in BsAs (unfortunately papers get in the way a little). Kelsey came to visit last week, so I took her to all the cool places I've discovered but we also went a couple of places I hadn't gotten a chance to visit yet, like the Congress building. (Oh and we went to a classical ballet, which was pretty amazing. Can't say I particularly understood the "plot" but those people are crazy good.) Funny how showing somebody around makes you get to know your own city. Pictures here, although she's got all the good ones of the two of us. And looks like Amanda's coming next week! woot!
At this point, I'm done with classes (finally!!! I feel like I have been in school forever) and just have a paper and an exam left before I'm finally done with junior year. So I'm starting to look forward to next fall, of course, but first it will be so nice to be home for a bit.
Maybe it's the stress, maybe it's the fact that I have been away a long time or that I get to go back soon, but I've been missing things from home:
free water at restaurants, a spice rack, doing my own laundry, knowing what things actually are when I look at the list of ingredients, not having to think beforehand about what I'm going to say when I walk into a store to ask for something, sidewalks not covered in dog poop, summer, the food, the people, humor I can understand immediately and participate in.
Things I'll miss from BsAs: the sheer amount of things to do, tango, mate, cheapness, the people, making fun of people in English and not having them understand me, ferias, the food, walking everywhere, the Argentine accent, the sun, the laid-back atmosphere, the abundance of bookstores, Governor Sanford (jk).
All in all, although I'm ready to be back to normality, to a system I understand and can work in, I wouldn't change my past year for the world. I don't think I can express (even to myself) the impact it's had on my life, so if you hear me blabbering on about it, please bear with me.
I just realized this is kind of a wrap-up entry and I still have two weeks left here... I'll probably post briefly again but in the meanwhile, thanks for following, anybody who actually still reads this :) and I can't wait to see you all! Maybe we can have mate and french bread.
All my love,
Jenelle
PS. I know I have been deficient on the postcard front, but I do have them, so if you would like one, send me your address :)
Anyway, the point of telling this story was to say, first of all, that you should ALWAYS wear your helmet. End of story. Secondly, it got me thinking about taking advantage of life. Between that, the metro crash on the red line in DC, and spending the entire weekend cooped up writing papers, I've been thinking about how much there is to do and see in the world.
The major thing that studying abroad has taught me is how little I know. I feel like I'm constantly learning new things, searching things out, traveling. And I still know very little about almost anything. Take geography and politics, for example.
So, reaffirmation of an old goal: take advantage. Get out and see and learn as much as possible. And that can happen even back at home.
Philosophical musings aside, I've been trying to enjoy my last month or so in BsAs (unfortunately papers get in the way a little). Kelsey came to visit last week, so I took her to all the cool places I've discovered but we also went a couple of places I hadn't gotten a chance to visit yet, like the Congress building. (Oh and we went to a classical ballet, which was pretty amazing. Can't say I particularly understood the "plot" but those people are crazy good.) Funny how showing somebody around makes you get to know your own city. Pictures here, although she's got all the good ones of the two of us. And looks like Amanda's coming next week! woot!
At this point, I'm done with classes (finally!!! I feel like I have been in school forever) and just have a paper and an exam left before I'm finally done with junior year. So I'm starting to look forward to next fall, of course, but first it will be so nice to be home for a bit.
Maybe it's the stress, maybe it's the fact that I have been away a long time or that I get to go back soon, but I've been missing things from home:
free water at restaurants, a spice rack, doing my own laundry, knowing what things actually are when I look at the list of ingredients, not having to think beforehand about what I'm going to say when I walk into a store to ask for something, sidewalks not covered in dog poop, summer, the food, the people, humor I can understand immediately and participate in.
Things I'll miss from BsAs: the sheer amount of things to do, tango, mate, cheapness, the people, making fun of people in English and not having them understand me, ferias, the food, walking everywhere, the Argentine accent, the sun, the laid-back atmosphere, the abundance of bookstores, Governor Sanford (jk).
All in all, although I'm ready to be back to normality, to a system I understand and can work in, I wouldn't change my past year for the world. I don't think I can express (even to myself) the impact it's had on my life, so if you hear me blabbering on about it, please bear with me.
I just realized this is kind of a wrap-up entry and I still have two weeks left here... I'll probably post briefly again but in the meanwhile, thanks for following, anybody who actually still reads this :) and I can't wait to see you all! Maybe we can have mate and french bread.
All my love,
Jenelle
PS. I know I have been deficient on the postcard front, but I do have them, so if you would like one, send me your address :)
Friday, June 12, 2009
Mate culture, Iguazu, and Jenelle's Rule Of Four
Hi everybody, sorry it's been a while since I updated. I would make excuses, but I feel like it's better to be out experiencing my life abroad than writing about it...
When I last wrote, I believe I was dying of midterms. Well that is basically all over and we've moved on to final papers, but I did get a little respite in between.
I've come up with a theory of living abroad, we'll call it Jenelle's Rule of Four: After almost exactly four months you will be done with the culture shock cycle and feel at home in your new city abroad. This generally occurs close to the time (in semester study abroad programs) that you're starting to get ready to head home. This has happened to me both semesters, and I'm pretty happy that I have a month left here to enjoy being adjusted.
Which brings me to my next point. I have finally figured out what I think of Buenos Aires/Argentina/Argentines. I like the people, I like the culture. I don't particularly like the city. It's enormous. It's dirty. You can't walk a block without stepping on a broken tile in the sidewalk, around dog poop, or under a drip (no idea where the water falls from. Don't want to know). The subte is a mix of occasional efficiency and rush hour conditions that make sardine cans look spacious.
But there are parts I like, too: it's also got trees and theaters and european facades. It's confusing and bustling and vibrant. And the people here are some of the friendliest I've ever met. I'm going to digress for a moment to tell a story.
Last week I was at my tango lesson, where my friend Alessandra and I are the only non-Argentines. It was one girl's birthday, so after class they brought out the cake they had made her and uncorked a bottle of champagne. After pouring, we all sang and toasted. And then the Argentines came around and clinked glasses with everybody. Individually. And then they sat around for half an hour and chatted and just generally had a group hangout session. I don't know how to explain it, but that for me epitomizes the culture here. They care about each other. They take the time to do the things that really matter. They sit and drink mate and play the guitar and relax because even though it's a city life is too important to rush away. They laugh.
It's one of those "had to be there" moments, but for me that is Argentina.
On a rather unrelated note, I went to the falls at Iguazu! I'd been wanting to go because I kept hearing great things and finally manged it last weekend. The falls are located on Argentina's border with Brazil and Paraguay and are absolutely breathtaking. We couldn't go to the Brazilian side because the visa to get to Brazil is expensive and difficult to get, but everybody says the Argentine side is better anyway. I took about fifty billion waterfall pictures from every angle, walked quite a bit, and took a boat under some of the little falls, so I was completely soaked. In other words, pretty much had a fantastic day. It was an extremely long bus ride, but definitely worth it. Pictures here.
And now my friend Kelsey's here visiting from Chile, so I'm getting to see parts of the city I hadn't gotten around to seeing before, which is really exciting. And hanging out with Kelsey's pretty cool, too. I'll put up those photos soon but in the meantime I updated another of my photo albums (mostly with pictures of a polo game I went to (the Argentines are really into-and good at-polo) which was a lot of fun, even though they didn't ask us to stomp the divots).
When I last wrote, I believe I was dying of midterms. Well that is basically all over and we've moved on to final papers, but I did get a little respite in between.
I've come up with a theory of living abroad, we'll call it Jenelle's Rule of Four: After almost exactly four months you will be done with the culture shock cycle and feel at home in your new city abroad. This generally occurs close to the time (in semester study abroad programs) that you're starting to get ready to head home. This has happened to me both semesters, and I'm pretty happy that I have a month left here to enjoy being adjusted.
Which brings me to my next point. I have finally figured out what I think of Buenos Aires/Argentina/Argentines. I like the people, I like the culture. I don't particularly like the city. It's enormous. It's dirty. You can't walk a block without stepping on a broken tile in the sidewalk, around dog poop, or under a drip (no idea where the water falls from. Don't want to know). The subte is a mix of occasional efficiency and rush hour conditions that make sardine cans look spacious.
But there are parts I like, too: it's also got trees and theaters and european facades. It's confusing and bustling and vibrant. And the people here are some of the friendliest I've ever met. I'm going to digress for a moment to tell a story.
Last week I was at my tango lesson, where my friend Alessandra and I are the only non-Argentines. It was one girl's birthday, so after class they brought out the cake they had made her and uncorked a bottle of champagne. After pouring, we all sang and toasted. And then the Argentines came around and clinked glasses with everybody. Individually. And then they sat around for half an hour and chatted and just generally had a group hangout session. I don't know how to explain it, but that for me epitomizes the culture here. They care about each other. They take the time to do the things that really matter. They sit and drink mate and play the guitar and relax because even though it's a city life is too important to rush away. They laugh.
It's one of those "had to be there" moments, but for me that is Argentina.
On a rather unrelated note, I went to the falls at Iguazu! I'd been wanting to go because I kept hearing great things and finally manged it last weekend. The falls are located on Argentina's border with Brazil and Paraguay and are absolutely breathtaking. We couldn't go to the Brazilian side because the visa to get to Brazil is expensive and difficult to get, but everybody says the Argentine side is better anyway. I took about fifty billion waterfall pictures from every angle, walked quite a bit, and took a boat under some of the little falls, so I was completely soaked. In other words, pretty much had a fantastic day. It was an extremely long bus ride, but definitely worth it. Pictures here.
And now my friend Kelsey's here visiting from Chile, so I'm getting to see parts of the city I hadn't gotten around to seeing before, which is really exciting. And hanging out with Kelsey's pretty cool, too. I'll put up those photos soon but in the meantime I updated another of my photo albums (mostly with pictures of a polo game I went to (the Argentines are really into-and good at-polo) which was a lot of fun, even though they didn't ask us to stomp the divots).
Thursday, May 7, 2009
uhhh... I'm out of creative titles. Or at least brainpower.
When I die, I'm pretty sure it will be a result of one of the following:
1. Secondhand smoke.
2. Smushed (aplastada, ecrasée, all three languages have such illustrative terms) into the street by a colectivo or a taxi in this city without stop signs.
3. In said colectivo or taxi when atrocious driving skill karma catches up with the drivers.
4. Sleep deprivation, stress, or the terrible diet of someone living off of toast until she has time to go to the grocery store during the midterm crunch.
Midterms are fun, eh? Thankfully, they are mostly over and haven't killed me yet, so I'm putting my money on the first three.
We're hitting the beginning of the end, and the requisite 3 months of culture shock are just about over. Thank goodness life's starting to feel a little more normal. Maybe when the Argentines ask the "so how do you like Buenos Aires" question (which they do allllll the time) I will actually have an answer.
Recent activities have been:
1. Finding a tango studio and taking classes (that's right, I am awesomely cool. Be jealous.) and going to a milonga to attempt to dance and stumbling upon an amazing live tango band.
2. Reading about five hundred million pages of political theory to take a 10-question multiple choice exam. Then going on facebook (which has severely limited my procrastination capabilites by changing its format) and seeing everybody counting down their last few days of school. And getting jealous.
3. Laughing at the Argentines who have broken out their wool sweaters, down vests, leather boots, and scarves. For 65 degree weather.
4. Trying to go cold turkey to cure my addiction to empanadas, dulce de leche, and alfajores. Relapsing.
5. Spending two hours in the visa office (arrive at 7:30 am) so they could make me pay 300 pesos and staple my picture to a very unofficial-looking paper with my address spelled wrong and tell me to come back to pick up my real, official visa in 20 days. At least it wasn't 11 hours like many people I have talked to.
Yup, that's pretty much it.
1. Secondhand smoke.
2. Smushed (aplastada, ecrasée, all three languages have such illustrative terms) into the street by a colectivo or a taxi in this city without stop signs.
3. In said colectivo or taxi when atrocious driving skill karma catches up with the drivers.
4. Sleep deprivation, stress, or the terrible diet of someone living off of toast until she has time to go to the grocery store during the midterm crunch.
Midterms are fun, eh? Thankfully, they are mostly over and haven't killed me yet, so I'm putting my money on the first three.
We're hitting the beginning of the end, and the requisite 3 months of culture shock are just about over. Thank goodness life's starting to feel a little more normal. Maybe when the Argentines ask the "so how do you like Buenos Aires" question (which they do allllll the time) I will actually have an answer.
Recent activities have been:
1. Finding a tango studio and taking classes (that's right, I am awesomely cool. Be jealous.) and going to a milonga to attempt to dance and stumbling upon an amazing live tango band.
2. Reading about five hundred million pages of political theory to take a 10-question multiple choice exam. Then going on facebook (which has severely limited my procrastination capabilites by changing its format) and seeing everybody counting down their last few days of school. And getting jealous.
3. Laughing at the Argentines who have broken out their wool sweaters, down vests, leather boots, and scarves. For 65 degree weather.
4. Trying to go cold turkey to cure my addiction to empanadas, dulce de leche, and alfajores. Relapsing.
5. Spending two hours in the visa office (arrive at 7:30 am) so they could make me pay 300 pesos and staple my picture to a very unofficial-looking paper with my address spelled wrong and tell me to come back to pick up my real, official visa in 20 days. At least it wasn't 11 hours like many people I have talked to.
Yup, that's pretty much it.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Dear Chile, on further reflection, I think your country is worth my $131.
Where to start... This is my problem when I haven't updated in a while.
Let's see. Well last week I went to Chile to visit Santiago and Vina del Mar (oh and Kelsey and Amanda and Dania too..). It was pretty awesome, so nice to be with people I know well and who know me. I also got free housing, which balanced out the money you have to pay the Chilean Treasury on entering. This is a reciprocity fee, and apparently it is caused by the fact that Chilean citizens have to pay to get into the US, so they charge us right back. Logical, but it's not my fault!
Oh well.
Anyway. Santiago is a nice capital city, smaller than Buenos Aires and covered in grass and trees. It's kind of a DC to Buenos Aires's New York, to give you some idea. It seemed cleaner to me, despite all the smog. Maybe the fact that I was just visiting gave me a more touristy view of it. We saw all the touristy stuff, La Moneda, La Chascona, La Plaza de Armas, and the Cerros, and then when Amanda come we basically walked through the entirety of the city.
Then when Kelsey went to Torres del Paine (honestly, you couldn't have put me in your suitcase?), Amanda and I went to Vina, where she lives in a palace next to the beach (You think I'm kidding. I'm only slightly exaggerating). The beach was beautiful, and we spent a day in Valparaiso, which is really really cool with all the crazy colored houses and staircases to nowhere. Otherwise, I mostly got to relax.
The impression I got in Chile was that the Chileans are really happy people. They're a very different population from the Portenos--for one, they aren't of European descent and so look more typically "South American". I don't know if they're more warm or open than the Portenos, but they certainly seem so when first meeting them. They're calling you "mi amor" or "querido" after the first minute. I think this is just something they say, the way old women call everybody "dear", but they definitely don't do that here in BsAs.
Then there's the Chilean form of Spanish, which you wouldn't think would be that different considering how close they are to Argentina. Think again. I didn't realize both how accustomed I'd become to the Porteno accent and also how much it had crept into my own speech until I opened my mouth in Chile. I also think it's funny how I've had both Chileans and Argentines tell me that their dialect of Spanish is the weirdest and most difficult. They've definitely got a competition thing going.
There're a lot of other minor differences, like they sell more fruits and veggies there, I think, and I found fresh spinach (!!) and yogurt in a tub rather than in a bag. (Short digression, I don't think I've explained this before, but all the dairy products here come in big bags. Milk, yogurt, ricotta cheese... it kinda weirds me out. Also, then you have to have a pitcher to put the bag in in your fridge. Seems rather inefficient to me).
Of course it all caught up to me the minute I got back, I've spent a pretty stressed week trying to catch up on my mountains of reading and finish my taxes. But that's ok, it was worth it.
I also got to go this week and get a form saying I don't have a criminal record in Argentina so that I can go get my visa in a couple of weeks. This seems pointless to me, since I have three months on a tourist visa every time I reenter the country, so after going to Chile I have till mid-July. But apparently UCA won't transfer our transcripts if we don't have a student visa, so... It was rather a fun time standing in lines, but was more efficient than I had been lead to believe. Fingerprints, what are your parent's names (Thomas Thomas? *incredulous giggle*), stamp stamp, you're done.
I had a moment the other day, while reading Borges' Fervor de Buenos Aires, of love for BsAs. Slowly, surely, it's coming. I don't know that you can live in a place for any length of time and not start to love it, at least in part. I may never live here again, I may not miss it like I miss Paris or Boulder or even DC, but there's always a fondness that comes with familiarity. There are parts I love and hate about the city, but I know how it works now. I can get from the airport without problems. When people mention intersections I kind of know where they are. I only really look at my Guia T when I'm going somewhere I haven't been before. I know what kind of empanadas I like and I've started craving dulce de leche. I say "vos" more readily than "tu". People ask me for directions like I might actually know something. In short, I've got a portena veneer.
For the rest, you'll have to see the pictures.
Let's see. Well last week I went to Chile to visit Santiago and Vina del Mar (oh and Kelsey and Amanda and Dania too..). It was pretty awesome, so nice to be with people I know well and who know me. I also got free housing, which balanced out the money you have to pay the Chilean Treasury on entering. This is a reciprocity fee, and apparently it is caused by the fact that Chilean citizens have to pay to get into the US, so they charge us right back. Logical, but it's not my fault!
Oh well.
Anyway. Santiago is a nice capital city, smaller than Buenos Aires and covered in grass and trees. It's kind of a DC to Buenos Aires's New York, to give you some idea. It seemed cleaner to me, despite all the smog. Maybe the fact that I was just visiting gave me a more touristy view of it. We saw all the touristy stuff, La Moneda, La Chascona, La Plaza de Armas, and the Cerros, and then when Amanda come we basically walked through the entirety of the city.
Then when Kelsey went to Torres del Paine (honestly, you couldn't have put me in your suitcase?), Amanda and I went to Vina, where she lives in a palace next to the beach (You think I'm kidding. I'm only slightly exaggerating). The beach was beautiful, and we spent a day in Valparaiso, which is really really cool with all the crazy colored houses and staircases to nowhere. Otherwise, I mostly got to relax.
The impression I got in Chile was that the Chileans are really happy people. They're a very different population from the Portenos--for one, they aren't of European descent and so look more typically "South American". I don't know if they're more warm or open than the Portenos, but they certainly seem so when first meeting them. They're calling you "mi amor" or "querido" after the first minute. I think this is just something they say, the way old women call everybody "dear", but they definitely don't do that here in BsAs.
Then there's the Chilean form of Spanish, which you wouldn't think would be that different considering how close they are to Argentina. Think again. I didn't realize both how accustomed I'd become to the Porteno accent and also how much it had crept into my own speech until I opened my mouth in Chile. I also think it's funny how I've had both Chileans and Argentines tell me that their dialect of Spanish is the weirdest and most difficult. They've definitely got a competition thing going.
There're a lot of other minor differences, like they sell more fruits and veggies there, I think, and I found fresh spinach (!!) and yogurt in a tub rather than in a bag. (Short digression, I don't think I've explained this before, but all the dairy products here come in big bags. Milk, yogurt, ricotta cheese... it kinda weirds me out. Also, then you have to have a pitcher to put the bag in in your fridge. Seems rather inefficient to me).
Of course it all caught up to me the minute I got back, I've spent a pretty stressed week trying to catch up on my mountains of reading and finish my taxes. But that's ok, it was worth it.
I also got to go this week and get a form saying I don't have a criminal record in Argentina so that I can go get my visa in a couple of weeks. This seems pointless to me, since I have three months on a tourist visa every time I reenter the country, so after going to Chile I have till mid-July. But apparently UCA won't transfer our transcripts if we don't have a student visa, so... It was rather a fun time standing in lines, but was more efficient than I had been lead to believe. Fingerprints, what are your parent's names (Thomas Thomas? *incredulous giggle*), stamp stamp, you're done.
I had a moment the other day, while reading Borges' Fervor de Buenos Aires, of love for BsAs. Slowly, surely, it's coming. I don't know that you can live in a place for any length of time and not start to love it, at least in part. I may never live here again, I may not miss it like I miss Paris or Boulder or even DC, but there's always a fondness that comes with familiarity. There are parts I love and hate about the city, but I know how it works now. I can get from the airport without problems. When people mention intersections I kind of know where they are. I only really look at my Guia T when I'm going somewhere I haven't been before. I know what kind of empanadas I like and I've started craving dulce de leche. I say "vos" more readily than "tu". People ask me for directions like I might actually know something. In short, I've got a portena veneer.
For the rest, you'll have to see the pictures.
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