"That's Argentina..."

So I've been here for more than a month now, and I cannot believe how fast time has passed. I can't possibly catch you up on everything that's gone on...but I would like to comment on some of the more unique experiences that I've had during this time.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but Argentina has an exceptionally high rate of image-consciousness (especially regarding women, and weight). A few weeks ago my professor told me it ranks number 2 for anorexia/bulimia...and a classmate said today that they've moved up to first place, with Japan and the US rounding out the top three. I said all of this to recount a "hindsight makes this hilarious" story I experienced about two and a half weeks ago...

Whether it's mineral deposits in the water or super-strength Argentine soap...my clothes are wearing out much faster here than back in the states and my only pair of skinny(ish) jeans recently got a gaping hole directly under the left butt cheek. Considering I shelled out the money for a pair of suede boots, and that skinny jeans are super "de moda" here...I figured I should go buy another pair. I also purposefully packed pretty light...and my jean casualty left me with only 3 functional pairs of pants.

So I set out on my merry way Thursday afternoon down Avenida Cabildo (it's got a bunch of shops/restaurants/my study abroad office/etc) for the epic jeans search. Granted, I usually have trouble finding pants in the good ole' US of A because something about my waist/ass/height ratio doesn't seem to compute with most pants manufaturers...and this is a country where obesity is an issue and jeans sizes go up to the upper 20s. I walked into a little boutique where they seemed to have a decent selection, and more importantly, numerous signs in the windows touting "ofertas" (sales).

Immediately I realize that I have no idea what my size is here, and start trying to "eyeball" which pants will fit me. This store had sizes that ranged from 28 (appropriate for a 7 year old) to 40...which seemed the closest to my size. I tried a couple pairs of 40s and they were just a smidge too tight, I could definitely button them...but was also inching dangerously close to muffin-top-ville, and nobody wants that. I, very politely and in Spanish, asked the girl working if she had any size 42 pants.

First of all, her look of disdain should have tipped me off that this was not going to end well. She half-heartedly flipped through their stacks of pants and replied with a simple, short "no," which was clearly dipped in a "you're fat" candy coating.

Let's recap. I, as a size 6, was TOO BIG for a store meant for grown women in Argentina. Not only was I too big, but the attitude of the sales girl was that I was ridiculous for inquiring otherwise. Luckily, I'm pretty secure in my skin (apart from the moments of self-doubt that everybody experiences from time to time) and even as this was going down I thought about how funny the story would be to tell/blog about later. And, most importantly, I managed to get pants later that day...though I was still at the upper end of the size chart.

This is just one of the things I've learned to accept as normal here in BsAs...some of the "that's Argentina" moments are drastic improvements from life in the US, others not so much. Improvements include kissing everybody on the cheek as a manner of saying hello/goodbye as well as the complete social acceptability of drinking wine with your lunch. Less fantastic are disorganized classes and dog poop all over the sidewalks.

Ultimately it's all part of the learning experience. Sometimes I get so comfy here that I forget exactly where I am, then I have one of these "you're foreign" experiences and it reminds me all over again. I'm hoping that the next couple of months will bring me closer to the Argentine culture while allowing me to see it in different locations away from my home base in BsAs.