"Good...nice"

   I stumbled out of bed at noon today, and on my way to the bathroom ran into some more recently returned seminarians. After shrieking each other’s names and hugs, the same question: how was your break? And, inevitably, variations on the same response:

            “Good…cold”

            “Good…warm”

            “Good…nice”

   Which is obviously code for ‘I have so much to say about my awesome vacation that it will take me days and maybe months to unpack all of the stories’. And, bright-eyed and bus-lagged, we start to unpack.

   So, along with my grime encrusted socks and crumpled plane tickets, here are a few things I can unpack from my break…

   I spent most of my non-sick break in Joaquin V. Gonzales, Salta province. It’s about 21 driving hours north of Buenos Aires, which is why I flew, and roughly The Dalles in size and Dufur in feeling. I stayed with my friend Ani, who is finishing up her last seminary credits online while living and working with her parents, who are pastors of a robust church. She had organized a youth retreat for my weekend there, so I ended up helping her with that: I preached twice, gave a workshop, coordinated a prayer meeting, and talked on the radio three times- all with little to no voice!

   It was very humbling to be able to get to know the teens and find that, despite a continent and culture difference, we were able to connect like a family and share God’s Word, which is just as relevant to their lives as it is to mine. Staying in the parsonage has its own rhythm of ministry- if you’re not strategic about when you get out of the house (grocery shopping, walking, etc.), you can get caught in a revolving door of visitors and tea- it’s a bit like being in the Connor house, for those of you who remember such times. I left quite a few hours of sleep, my Bible, and a bit of my heart there.

   Nevertheless, Ani, Pedro (her fiancé) and I were able to escape for a FULL day and a half of exploring Salta and Jujuy, complete with huddling in the cold for 3 am bus rides, marveling at painted hills, eating llama sausage (delicious), and singing while trekking down a canyon by starlight. Quite an adventure!

   Or, in other words…

                    “Good…nice” ;) 

Almagro!

Well, damas and caballeros of the internets, I am still sick, which means you get another blog post! This one was not written at 2:20 in the morning, so hopefully it'll be a bit more coherent. I was feeling a bit better today, so I took a walk around the block (yep, that's as far as I made it. Reality check- still sick) and was reminded of what a nice neighborhood I have. Since it doesn't show up in most guidebooks or sites about Buenos Aires and wouldn't show up on your radar otherwise, here are ten things I've come to know and love about my barrio, Almagro.

1. No tourists. Don't get me wrong, I love to practice my Portuguese and watch people act conspicuous and snap pictures as much as the next gal. But sometimes it's nice to come home to a place where people are going about their everyday lives: grocery shopping, taking the kids to school, walking the dog, not bothering to clean up after the dog...you get the picture.



2. Dia. Technically, this chain isn't just in Almagro, but since there are 3 stores within an impressively close radius of the seminary, I'll include it. Dia is the Dollar Tree of grocery stores- disorganized, sketchy, but inexpensive. I've also had some of my most random conversations while waiting in the super long lines. The closest Dia to me (4 blocks) has been closed for refurbishing this past month, so I have to admit that my heart may have skipped a beat when I saw that it will reopen on Thursday. Yessss.

3. Cars that just might actually stop for pedestrians. This is not a guarantee, but it does happen. Sometimes.

See the hobbit-hole? It's almost as pretty as the ad!

4. Parque Centenario. It doesn't get as much hype as it deserves, because it's one of the nicest and cleanest green spaces around. Besides the typical park stuff (carrousel, benches, flowers, people drinking mate), it has a lake with ducks, a mound that looks like a giant hobbit hole, and a used book stand. On a good day, it's not unlike Epcot. It's nice for running too...just not on the weekends, when the outskirts turn into Almagro's garage sale. And I don't care what Diego and Raúl may claim, it can NOT be run in 5 minutes.

5. Durand. I've done my share of bellyaching about the hospitals here, but having a public hospital just on the other side of Centenario is pretty convenient. Or, well, as convenient as such things can be. There's an old lady who sits outside the front gate every day and makes me want to sing 'Feed the Birds' every time I pass her.

6. Rivadavia. Avenida Rivadavia is our "main street" of sorts, and one of the longest avenues in Buenos Aires (or so I've been told). If you can't find what you're looking for here, you haven't asked.

7. Asking for directions/bus routes. It's considered a normal/native part of life here, so don't be surprised when you get asked, too. Here are some useful phrases for directions that I haven't found in a Spanish book:
   ¿A qué altura?          What block # is it?
    Derecho                   Straight...not to be confused with 'derecha', which is 'right' 
    Doblá en...               Turn at...

8. Los Chinos. For reasons yet unknown, most grocery stores around here are owned and operated by people from China. You can find about anything you need: mate, toilet paper, an aisle of crackers/cookies...the essentials. Since there are so many of these stores, don't be surprised if you're told to go to the 'chino on the corner', the 'chino next door' or the 'chino across the way'. Yes, I know which is which.

Las Violetas- a fancy and literary
cafe/bakery

9. Bakeries. From 'La Francesa' on the corner (which, incidentally, is across the street from the 'chino on the corner') that donates their day-old pastries for us to distribute, to the fancy Las Violetas, there's nothing quite as nice as the smell of freshly baked bread wafting down the street early in the morning.

Mitre- on money!

10. Bartolomé Mitre and other streets named for famous people. Every now and again I run into some bit of Argentine history and it rings a bell. "Oh, so-and-so! He has a street named after him!" It makes me- and Almagro- feel important somehow. Mitre, btw, was the president of Argentina roughly the same time as Lincoln was president of the US. Now ya know.

So, those are some things about Almagro. What do you know and love about your barrio or town?

That one time I wrote a post at 2:30 in the morning...

Welcome to the Cave.
For most of the day, the lights have been out, and I've been napping, attempting to eat a banana (still haven't finished it), watching movies, laughing at Chuck Norris and Mascherano facts, and otherwise being anti-social in my stomach bugginess. So now, at 2:29 Tuesday morning, I am wide awake and writing a blog post. ABOUT NOTHING IN PARTICULAR.

And what, you may ask, does nothing in particular sound like, in no order whatsoever?

1. Gratitude beats whininess any day of the week (even a sick-missed-my-flight-Monday). I am thankful for...
-Melisa, who gave me a back massage
-Everyone at the seminary who has put up with my anti-socialness, brought me a banana, and otherwise looked after me.
-The fact that there is toilet paper in the bathroom again
-Hot water in bottles and thermoses and showers

2. Northern South Americans (this sounds oxymoronic, but it's not) point at things with their faces, not their hands. Kind of confusing sometimes. Try to trace the direction of the chin tip or 'kissy-lips' to figure out what on earth they're talking about.

3. 'How to Train your Dragon' is excellent. So is listening to 'Hey Jude' on repeat.

4. I'm plotting ways to avoid going to the hospital tomorrow. The easiest one would be to get better, but I'm sure there are others.

5. It's Bastille Day. Or, at least it was yesterday. Vive la France! And, even though it's not from the same era, standby for the 'Les Misérables' soundtrack.

6. It just thundered.

7. Yep, that's pretty much all I have to say for myself. Good night/morning! 

For the Lee-TESOL Blog!

Yo!

Name: Jill Pearson

Graduated 2013 B.A. in Spanish Education from Lee University   Minors: TESOL and Religion

Home: Oregon

Random fact: I learned Spanish working in a cherry orchard with Mexican migrant workers.

The seminary stairway to heaven...

Currently in: Buenos Aires, Argentina. More specifically, I live in Almagro, a middle class neighborhood near the city center, in a refurbished tenement-turned-seminary. One building, four stories, 20 seminarians, and 2 bathrooms. It’s pretty cozy!

Seminary?

Yep, I live on campus at a tiny Church of God seminary. I’m taking theology/ministry classes, and teaching English to my fellow students, most of who are from various parts of Argentina (plus a family from Peru and a couple guys from Colombia, Chile, and Cuba). It’s sort of a work-study arrangement- I don’t get “paid”, but I don’t have to pay tuition, either.

My class

I started with 6 students (all the first year seminarians), and during the semester added 3 more. Officially, we meet Thursdays from 3-5- you better believe I PACK those classes full- but since we all live together, I find myself teaching plenty “outside” of class…basically, whenever I have a spare moment. The kitchen, seems to be the space where the affective filter is lowest.

Starting the semester

I created a diagnostic test of sorts for my students, and learned that while they were familiar with explicit grammar instruction and writing, they weren’t very skilled in conversation, which is what they were most interested in. I also learned that I have a very diverse group in terms of levels- from A, who has taken 7 years of classes in an English institute to R, who took 2 weeks of English two years ago. After the diagnostic test, we sat down together and came up with two main goals for the semester: 1) to improve our understanding of English and be able to converse and 2) to learn about Christianity in the English-speaking world. I built the curriculum and daily objectives to support those two goals.

What does a “normal” class look like?

Long before class, I create a lesson plan- this takes about 6 hours, on average; I don’t have a textbook. Then, on Thursday, I print out any materials I’ll need, and write the day’s objective and “plan” (sequence of events) on a white board. I always start with a warm-up, normally a game or conversation activity to lower the affective filter and “switch” gears into English. From there, it varies. I’ve found it best to start with the most hands-on activities (role plays, film clips), and then end class with reading, evaluation, and a devotional thought. After class, I “grade” the class time and myself: what worked or didn’t work? It takes discipline and honesty, but it ensures that every class is better than the one before it, and that I improve as a teacher.

Improvements for next semester

My new resolution is to speak more English with the students outside of class- 1 day a week is not enough. I’d also like to incorporate more explicit pronunciation/intonation and guided listening practice.

What’s the most challenging thing about my living/teaching situation?

Living in community has its ups and downs- besides a roommate (who is wonderful), I deal with 19 different personalities and cultural assumptions and moods in and out of the “classroom”- almost exclusively in my second language (Spanish). There is not much down time or personal space- tough for an introvert like me! Living with my students has given me a distinct humility as a teacher that I might not have gained anywhere else.

The most rewarding?

My English class/fellow students- a pretty awesome bunch!

Going to the Obelisco last night to celebrate Argentina’s semifinal World Cup win with the students and millions of Argentines. “This is awesome”, remarked one (in English- I was so proud!). Then another echoed, sarcastically: “yeah, just a little bit”. I have taught them well ;) Actually, any time I can share tea with the students and have them comment that they understood the lyrics to a song they heard in English or borrow my graduation Bible to read is a pretty rewarding experience, too.

Advice?

Do as much homework as you can before you go live overseas, and be flexible and willing to live (and teach) with less. Make time with God a priority- it’s not easy with different demands on your life and emotions, but it may be the only thing that will keep you sane and able to give generously to your students. If you have a Mac, pack an extra charger. Explore your new home. Bring peanut butter; even if you don’t like it, your students may want to try something they’ve only seen in the movies. And…

Enjoy the adventure!

Ser argentino

Vamos Argentina!
Celebrating the semifinal win last night at the Obelisco. 

Last week, I wrote about what it means to be American (to me, at least...let's not get ridiculous and generalize, even on a tiny blog). But, after celebrating Argentina's Independence with a last minute World Cup WIN tonight, I figured I would compose a compilation of random generalizations, so that you too can cheer for Argentina on Sunday, and pray with them whenever. So, without further ado, an assortment of silly, serious, and celeste things I have learned about living among Argentines, 5 months into the adventure.

1) Argentines have impressive memories and attention spans. The popular football chant this year is longer than most modern worship songs, and is very contextual and specific to players and events decades ago. It goes something like this.

Brasil, decíme qué se siente                Brazil, tell me how it feels
Tener en casa a tu papá                      To have your papa home
Te juro aunque pasen los años            I swear even if the years go by
Nunca lo vamos a olvidar                   We'll never forget it
Que el Diego te gambeteó                   Diego ran circles around you
Y el Cani te vacunó                             Cani "vaccinated" you
Están llorando desde Italia hasta hoy   They're crying all the way from Italy even today
Al Messi lo vas a ver                           You'll see Messi
La Copa nos va a traer                         He'll bring us the Cup
Maradona es más grande que Pelé       Maradona is greater than Pele

Never mind that they can remember a game from 24 years ago (1990 Brazil-Argentina match in Italy)...they can recall all the words to this song in progressed states of inebriation. With gusto.

2) Said attention spans are very selective. Never mind that the city is still low on water or that the country is on the verge of economic crisis...they made it to the finals, carajo! Honestly, I think it's less a matter of awareness than the nuanced apathy of "things are difficult, and there's nothing I can do about them, so I might as well enjoy a good football game." Argentina's had a checkered political and economic modern history, and it's left them jaded. Pray for the government, the people, and especially my generation.

My favorite gesture: "what the heck?"

3) Porteños (from Buenos Aires) will tell you like it is. Forget almost every polite expression you learned in Spanish class; the courteous 'me gustaría' or 'quisiera' here is almost always a straight up 'quiero' (I want) here, and plenty of phrases that are definitely off-limits in other countries are a normal part of speech here. Combine this straight talk with Italian hand gestures and a dramatic accent...no lack of assertiveness here!

4) But they will almost always try to help. I have yet to meet an Argentine who cannot be approached for directions or bothered to share mate*.

5) Argentines are social. People, even in an isolatingly big city, tend to prioritize relationships over timetables. This can be incredibly frustrating when you're trying to meet with somebody or make plans (ever), but they have a knack for living in the moment, however long that moment may be. Digital technology hasn't yet supplanted face-to-face communication, either, which I appreciate. Pray that Jesus would be made known though these everyday social interactions.

6) Argentine thermoses are the best. Yes, this is random. As a nation addicted to mate*, no self-respecting citizen goes out without a thermos. I finally bought myself one, and it kept my water boiling hot for over 14 hours. I was impressed.

7) Don't tell them this, but Argentinos are not all that different from Americans. We (generalizing here) like our meat and potatoes, rock'n roll, beer commercials, professional sports, and nominal religions; we are proud of our nationalities and pray that God will guide and bless our countries. Al gran pueblo argentino- salud!



*How does 'mate' work?
Mate is a communal tea experience, with its own etiquette and vocabulary. To make it, you need:
-yerba (share-bah, green, caffeine-rich dried herbs bought in bags at the grocery store)
-a thermos of hot (but not boiling) water
-a mate (mah-tay- a cup of sorts, usually made out of wood, but sometimes metal, ceramic, or plastic)
-a bombilla (bom-bee-shah- a metal straw with a filter at one end)
-sugar (optional)

President Cristina and Pope Francisco
demonstrating proper mate sharing

-someone to share it with (like, say, the Pope. Or, more commonly, who ever is in the kitchen/dining room/studying/chilling).

The person who serves you the mate 'ceba' (which is the verb for such things) fills the mate with yerba (about 2/3), a bit of sugar, and more or less fills the mate with water. Then, s/he hand hands it to you. If you want it, you slurp all the water from the mate, and hand it back to the person who cebó. Then, they fill the mate with water and sugar again, and pass it on to the next person. If you don't want it, you say 'gracias', which still seems backwards to me. 

Being American

Yesterday, I celebrated my first 4th of July outside of the United States. Celebrated might not be the right word; there were no fireworks, no hotdogs, no lazy summer afternoon barbecues, no red-white-and-blue popsicles/fruit salads/fingernails beyond my facebook feed, no beer-bellied drunks shouting random nationalist obscenities (wait, I take that back- there were a few of those, but they were Brazilian and celebrating their World Cup win over Colombia), no marshmallows or Star-Spangled anything. Being an expat is weird that way.

Celebrating Argentina's win, as an American.
Yes, I am fully aware of the irony.
That's the point of this post.

As an American living in Argentina, I've learned that a country looks much different from the outside than it does on the inside, and the US is the rule rather than the exception. "America" in Argentina, at the moment, is some blend of Captain America movies, the occasional news of school shootings, dollars, Katie Perry pop music, and buitres (vultures, as they refer to the debt settlement crisis). Most of the daily things that define and explain my (or your) everyday life don't make the 5,600 mile multimedia trek.

I tried to change that in our last English class, making apple pie and sharing regional trivia, music and other references, and then compiling a list of prayer requests for the US and Argentina. Basically, I shared what I know/knew about being American.

And I realized that it's complicated.

22 years in one country (I still maintain that Oregon is more similar to Argentina than it is to Tennessee) have shaped me in ways I still don't entirely understand. Nearly everything- my accent, my assumptions about what is normal/good in life, my stature, my unpronounceable name- can be somehow traced back to my homeland. I've always been somewhat aware of this, and being a Christian does (should) give me an outsider-lens on my own nation, because my primary citizenship is in the Kingdom of Heaven, which, inconveniently, does not award tangible passports.

The US, however, does. It has given me a passport, good education, ridiculous amounts of economic and political security, and acres of public land I can pretend are all mine. It's not perfect, but eh, governments are what happen when you leave people in charge of things. I'm glad to be from there.

But I'm also glad to be here, living in Argentina. That doesn't have to be a contradiction- just a decision that I can and will be happy wherever I live.

......................................................................................................................................
Maybe Rebeca, my ten year old neighbor from Peru, explained it best. We were about to watch the Argentina-Switzerland game, and everyone was putting on their jerseys and painting their faces with celeste and white. Everyone, that is, except Rebeca.

She tiptoed up to my room, and with a worried look on her face said that she'd come because "you'd understand...you're not Argentine either." Turns out, while she wanted to cheer and watch the game, she felt like it would be disloyal to Peru, or worse, that cheering would mean she wasn't Peruvian enough anymore.

"You'll always be Peruvian- or as much of a Peruvian as you want to be. Just like I'll always be American", were the clumsy words that came out of my mouth, but they seemed to cheer her up. "So I can cheer for Argentina, too?" she asked, with a bit more confidence on her face. "Definitely."
........................................................................................................................................

Being American means that I have the gift of a home and a history. Living abroad means that I get to make a home and create history wherever I go. Following Jesus is a bit of both.

With that said, I don't mind "celebrating" the 4th with apple pie and an Argentine jersey.





*and by American, I do mean from the United States. 'American' technically can refer to someone from any part of North, Central, and South America, but my native country has 'America' as a prominent part of its name and initiated the colonial independence wave, so if anyone could have a trademark on the adjective, it should be us. Sorry-not-sorry.