So, I need to put a post on here about mate.
As you can see on the left, the gourds that mate is consumed from are sold everywhere. And I mean everywhere. You can't go 100 feet without seeing a mate gourd, whether it be in somebody's hand, in a store, or on the street. Why? Because this entire country is extremely addicted to the stuff. Mate, for those of you who don't know, is made from the ground up leaf of yerba mate plant. The mate plant is very common throughout most of South America, and contrary to popular belief, it has nothing in common with the coca leaf that is used to make cocaine. That tea is called mate de coca. Not what they drink here.
Anyhow, the mate has three types of caffeine in it. The combination of caffeine stimulants simultaneously has an extreme calming affect on muscle tissue and a stimulating effect on heart and brain tissue, therefore, you feel relaxed and at the same time very alert and energetic. What a great combination!
Now, since this may sounds a lot like a drug that should be illegal, just wait, it gets better.
So, the way that Argentines drink the stuff is very much like somebody getting ready to take a drug. The process is very ritualistic.
Step 1. All Argentines have their mate kits that contain a gourd, a bombilla (silver spoon to drink it with), their package of ground mate, a paper card (for which I will explain in a second), sugar (if you want it, most don't use it), and a thermos of hot water. These things, I swear to you, are carried just about everywhere by just about every Argentine. You see them in the street, in offices, in parks, at school, with professors, with students, outside of school, on the ground, walking around, in boats, and while fishing. I am not kidding. They are everywhere.
Step 2. Anyways, back to the preparation. Open mate bag. Carefully pour into gourd until it is 2/3 full, roughly. Take the piece of paper and place on top of the gourd. Shake it back and forth. I make this sound like a clumsy action. But it is very graceful. The object is to get the mate dust to settle on the top so that the least amount reaches the bottom of the gourd to be sucked up through the straw. In the end it doesn't really matter because the person who is serving the mate has to drink the first, and usually most disgusting, brew.
Step 3. Now, in the street they don't need cold water because their hot water isn't steaming hot. However, in the house, you fill the gourd with cold water so that the dry mate absorbs the cold water to prevent scorching of the leaves. As I said, this isn't necessary in the street, so, the water is added straight from the thermos.
Step 4. Drink. This is done in a very ritualistic manner. The person who brought the mate drinks the first and often second cup. Then the gourd is refilled with water by the owner and is passed in a very precise fashion to the next person. That person drinks until the water is gone. It is refilled and passed to the next. The gourd is refilled again and again until the leaves no longer have any flavor.
Step 5. Empty and repeat. I don't know what their deal is, but they never stop. They are addicted to the stimulating effects or to the act of drinking it or most likely both. Either way, they're hooked.
I, on the other hand am not quite hooked, though I do love the stuff. I am drinking it as I type this blog post. I also plan on buying my own gourd and thermos sometime soon to bring to parks for picnics. Who knows, maybe I'll bring it home and drink it in class at Skidmore. I am sure the professor would love me for it.
As for current events in my life: I am thinking of where I want to travel over Semana Santa, a four day weekend coming up in the beginning of April. A group of my friends are going to Brazil, a place I would love to visit, but one that is both too far and too expensive. Another group are going to a beach in Uruguay. That could be fun, but I want to explore Argentina. There are tons of places I would love to go. I want to see Perito Moreno, the giant glacier down in Patagonia. I want to go to Tierra Del Fuego, the southern tip of the country. I would love to go to Cataratas to see Iguazu falls and the rainforests. My only problem: most of the kids I would normally try to travel with have already been to these places. Bummer. I will figure something out.
And now for something completely different...
I started my first class last night in the University of Buenos Aires. Classes began yesterday for the entire University and interestingly enough there is a strike tomorrow in the entire faculty of social sciences and all classes are called off. Oh, Buenos Aires how I love thee so.
Back to the building. The University, as it is so large (380k students), is spread out all over the city. The building I went to last night is used for Social Work classes. The class I attended is called Social Politics, which, for some reason is a social work class and not a politics class. It doesn't really matter. I got there at 5:30 for my 6PM class. I got there early because I wanted to make sure I found the building and the classroom alright. I did. I entered the classroom at about 5 minutes of 6. Nobody else was in there. AT around 6:10 people started filtering in. By 6:20 the classroom was full but no professor. At 6:30 the professor shows up, but, as it turns out, he isn't the lecture professor he is only the practical professor. So he starts to tell us that the hours got screwed up and the professor won't actually arrive until 7. Fine. He said a lot of other things that not only did I not understand but confused the rest of the class. Then the real professor enters and explains to us other things that I didn't really understand and confused the class even more. Luckily there is another American in the class that was as confused as I was.
Despite the confusion, the professor was great. He is an older balding man who has taught at the university for 25 years, is a favorite of the students, and is very animated and very funny.
As for the class content, I know I am going to have a very very tough time at first. Not only does the professor talk very quickly but he uses a lot of vocabulary that I am not familiar with. It is amazing how quickly you lose track of what someone is saying if you don't know a verb he is using. On top of that, he is teaching the class to 4th year seniors who have specialized in this field and have a much broader understanding of the material he is covering (in addition to speaking the language he is teaching in). Then there is trying to take notes in Spanish while listening to what he is saying and not losing track of your thought or his words. AND on top of THAT, the texts he assigned us are, as he warned us, extremely complex. So, wish me luck. I kind of want to cry.
Luckily the class is only once a week on Monday nights. What's not so fortunate is that the class is 4 hours long. 2 hours of lecture, 2 hours of discussion.
Before I finish this extremely long post I need to describe the classroom a little bit. The building is old and falling apart with filthy walls and broken lights. The halls are FILLED, and I mean FILLED, with political propaganda. The young people here are extremely involved with politics. What is interesting, however, is that most of the posters are calling for Marxist revolutions and communist style governments. What a difference from the US.
Once in the classroom most of the students have their mate gourds and are sipping away. They all occasionally take breaks during class to step out and smoke cigarettes in the hallways. How convenient. They don't even have to step outside!
Anyways, that is all for now, I am sick of typing. Apology for the lack of real structure in the post. I am working on my stream of consciousness style. James Joyce would be proud.
