Trámites, Postal Experiences, Rain, Chamamé, and Amigos

The last few weeks have been full of people, language, and cultural encounters. A few observations:

• "Trámites" literally means steps or procedures. In Argentina, the process of "haciendo trámites" refers to doing paperwork: filing for social security, paying bills or taxes, or renewing visas. To a time-oriented North American, trámites means a lesson in patience, or rather torturous hours spent waiting in lines. I had the, uh, pleasure, of going about the business of trámites two weeks ago in order to renew my tourist visa and legally remain in Argentina for another three months. I knew that the process would take a long time, so I adjusted my expectations: "Plan to wait," I told myself and took a book. I spent thirty minutes or so in the immigration office and then was sent to the national bank to pay the fee for renewing the visa (Why one can't pay this fee at the immigration office, I'm not quite sure...). The lines at the national bank were unlike anything I've ever seen before--even at Disney World. The huge room was a mass of people snaked in multiple lines that ended at cashiers and began, well, I wasn't sure where. I asked a police officer which line I should be in. There were fifty people ahead of me in line, so I pulled out my book. And would you believe it, I think that I was the only one in that room trying to do anything while waiting--it's at times like these when I realize how North American I still am, and also why my students in Honduras just couldn't understand my big deal with wasting time. "Tranquila, Miss" they would always tell me. In other words, "Relax. Stop and smell the roses." I need to work on this, I guess. But I'm fairly certain that there weren't any roses in that bank. I did pay my fee without any problems, however, returned to the immigration office, and about 3 1/2 hours after beginning the process, I had the appropriate stamp in my passport. All things considered, it could have been much more difficult. Gugey told me last week that he had to wait in line at the bank for two hours and then found out that he couldn't pay his bill there when he finally reached the counter. I think that God knew I wasn't quite ready to handle that.
  
• I really like the postman here at the local correo in Barrio Mil Viviendas, but I still find the general experience of sending and receiving mail frustrating. It's not unique to Argentina--post offices seem to spell bad news for me whenever I'm outside of the U.S. In order to be humbled in Lithuania, all I had to do was visit the post office, and I could be made to feel like a completely unintelligent foreigner whose time was of absolutely no value. At least packages arrived in a timely fashion. In Honduras, I once had to wait over 2 months to receive a package. At least I never lost a package. In Costa Rica, my impression of the postal system improved considerably, although I was told that some individuals had to pay outrageous fees before receiving a package. At least I never had to pay a fee. In Argentina, I've waited on a package that was sent to Australia before making it to my hands on the other side of the world. Really. When packages have to go through the customs official, they can only be picked up between the hours of ten and twelve on Tuesday and Thursdays. It is also important to note that the official might be over an hour late or decide not to come at all. I'm currently waiting on a package that was sent four weeks ago. At least God's teaching me patience.
  
• I really love Argentine hospitality. Last Friday, I spent the evening with Angel and Sandra, chatting in the front yard and watching Fatima play with her friends. About 10:30 or so, we started getting hungry (ok, so I was probably hungry way before this.) and they invited me to stay for some pizza. Their spontaneous generosity doesn't surprise me anymore, but it does still delight me. While eating, Marcos came by with a hamburger (a special hamburger with everything including ham and egg) from his mom. So I was treated to dinner twice in one evening. What beautiful, warm-hearted and generous people. Maybe it's their way of saying thank-you for teaching their kids, but I tend to think that it's more about friendship.
  
• In a place like Corrientes where it doesn't snow, there must still be some reason to cancel school, right? It's called rain. (or teacher strikes) Yes, when it rains, it pours, and when it pours, the schools sometimes flood. Therefore when it rains outside, the kids stay home. In Costa Rica it rains constantly--good thing that they seem to have a drainage system figured out well.
  
• Chamamé is the local folk music of the Corrientes and Chaco area. It resembles the polka in style and uses an according. Some of the songs are sung in Spanish and others in Guarani--the local indigenous language. It's fun music, and many people come to Chamamé concerts dressed in gaucho attire. I went to a Chamamé concert this weekend and enjoyed both the music and dancing. I should note, however, that the Chamamé dance is quite different from the polka (or at least what I remember of the polka from Mr. McCord's German class). Here's a movie clip:
  

• And finally, I'm loving the opportunities to form friendships with Argentines of all ages, backgrounds, and social classes. In my Spanish class last week, we discussed the fact that there is generally little interaction between the social classes in Argentina--and maybe especially in Corrientes. The educated middle and upper classes, have little interaction with the lower class. Although change in this respect isn't something that one can force on another, I certainly feel privileged to have genuine friendships with a great variety of people here--as a missionary I can sometimes cross the boundaries of class more easily than individuals who are studying or working among one specific group of people. I think that I'm getting a fuller perspective of Argentina and Argentines for this reason.

My friend Laura on the left and other friends for dinner

Ximena and siblings

Fatima (and friend or cousin) and I

A Guacho who kindy posed for me at the Chamamé concert