Rain rain go away

So turns out I'm as good about blogging as I am about keeping a diary. That is, not good at all. I'm here now though! I can't imagine how much the masses (that'd be you Barb and Gin) have missed my posts.
I don't even know where to start. First off, each day is different from the last and the next, so the whole getting your head together thing is nonexistent. It's more about wandering, meeting people, finishing maybe 1 of every 6 things you try to get done, trying not to walk into people on the street, trying not to get robbed, and pretending that I can understand complex anthropological concepts in spanish.
I finally have time to post since I spent at least an hour and a half trying to get to class. Between the monsoon rain, the broken umbrella, the out of order subway line, two wrong streets, and a final "I AM GOING TO GET TO CLASS NO MATTER HOW MUCH A RESEMBLE A WET DOG" push only to find myself right in front of the apartment again. huh. Anywho, I took that as a sign that class was just not meant to be today, so here I am.
This leads me to city life in general. I can't tell you how many times a day I'm like...amigos..what IS going ON?! Whether it's an unexpected subway strike, a march for/against something (Argentines are allll about their group demonstrations...with at least one instrument that would be perfect for primal scream...I saw one the other day with one beaming man playing a drum), a fight in the subway, free movie showings, a free orchestra concert on the proclaimed widest street in the world...Not going to lie, while it's awesome and eye opening and I'm learning blah blah blah, I'm pretty sure big city life is not my jam.
Here's an idea of a given day in class. My "Anthropology and Childhood" class starts at 1. First class, I get there at around 12:50...half an hour later, there are two of us. By 1:50 the professors arrive, start chatting amongst each other, share a bit o' mate and some laughs, and then finally start the class. About an hour and a half later, we have a 20 minute break for what have you, and then have another hour of class. That's just my UBA class.
For my first International Migration class, the professor gets there about 20 minutes late, mumbles something about forgetting papers, comes back 15 minutes later, and then we take a half hour coffee break sometime later. After class I go ask her about the hw (it's too easy to zone out when class is all in Spanish) and her response is "shit!! I forgot about that".
My third class is "Prehistoria y Antropologia Americana". It's basically American archaeology. Pretty interesting..I don't know about 67% of the vocab but am working on it. The professor in this class is hilarious. The first class, she is there on time, but proceeds to insult the intelligence of these four Argentine boys in the class. Ex. after one answered a question, she goes "this is a joke right? Do you have ANY IMAGINATION god damnit". Also, she definitely told them that they had less intelligence than a bowling ball. Then, I had missed 2 classes because of scheduling confusion, but instead of the wrath I was expecting, she finds out I'm half Costa Rican and starts freaking out and asking me to send her pictures. Good deal. Thanks for that, Pops.
This doesn't really do classes justice- they're turning out to be much harder than I bargained for, but the general attitude of the students of the teachers is just...much less stressed than it feels in the States. The teachers expect something, and pip pop you just gotta get it done. That simple.
As far as the setting, UBA is by far the most interesting environment for me. Background info: like I said before, it's the a public university, so anyone can go there for free. It also has a reputation to be one of the best schools in South America. It has some incredibly prestigious professors, and it's rumored that a certain Papa Obando lectured there once. My class is in the 'Filosofia y Letras' building, conveniently 2 subway stops from me. Inside, it feels like the love child of liberal (far far to the left) activist groups and the Wikipedia page on communism. There's also a suspicion that a hippie might have fathered it. The street outside the entrance is strewn with vendors selling beautiful jewelry and bags and such. As you walk in the front doors, it's a very basic building, but the posters plastering almost every square inch of walls gives it an effect far from simple. There are usually kids handing out flyers for the newest Marxist reading group or a chillin reggae disco party. Upstairs, there are people selling mate, sweets, and empanadas for the equivalent of about $.50. During class, beggars will come in, stop the class and ask for money. If you find a bathroom stall with a functional door, a toilet seat, and toilet paper, you have hit a GOLDMINE. Soap does not exist.
.... UCA is prettier and on the water. USAL is just a building in the middle of a crowded road.
I'll write about, you know, non school related stuff soon. One of my favorite things about being here is being surrounded and wallowing in art.
By art, I'm referring to graffiti, jazz clubs, museums, rollicking African drum circle parties, street vendors, street musicians (some guy was playing the harp on the subway the other day. COOL.), and dance of all forms. This week was the Tango World Final- sidenote, tango is nice but not a favorite by any means.
By art, I am not referring to the ridiculous amount of PDA in this city. People are about 2 buttons away from the full monty on a regular basis, in parks, the subway, probably even churches the way it's going. This weekend: hopefully a farm and real live gauchos, salsa dancing, and sleeeeeep.
Peace outtt.