la mano pintada

La mano pintada
“The painted hand”

This phrase is a peculiar one.  I suppose your hand could be painted, but when I think about this phrase I don’t think of a painted hand, but painted nails, ‘uñas pintadas.’  When I was in Córdoba, Argentina (6 years ago now), there was a small shop called, “La mano pintada” that sold women’s clothing, bathing suits and accessories.  It was a cute store, but I remember it for quite an embarrassing reason that for some reason I feel compelled to share with all of you.

When I packed for my 6-month trip, I confess I did a very poor job and didn’t pack a lot of things I really needed, one of those things being a bathing suit.  I guess I didn’t really think I’d need one, which was such a big mistake. I don’t know if it was this store in particular, or the whole of Argentina, but there wasn’t a single one-piece.  Not that I don’t like two-piece bathing suits, but theirs consisted of two triangles for the top and a thong for the bottom.  To make matters worse, the sizes are very very different.  They only had 0, 1, 2, and 3 on the floor and 4s available in the back.  Now, I don’t know what these equate to in the US, but I know here I’m a size 6-8. And the saleswoman proclaimed (after examining my rear) that she hoped I would fit in a 4. Awkward.

Anyway…after getting the least revealing bikini, in a size 4, I wore it twice over there, under clothes and haven’t touched it since.

But..I’d still like to say a bit more about the phrase, “la mano pintada”.  If you didn’t know, ‘la mano’ is one of those words that is an exception to the rule as far as gender agreement (ends in ‘o’ but is feminine). Also, just because I never do it! I’ll show you my pretty pink ‘uñas pintadas’ (painted nails).

Happy Thursday!

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New Year New Things

So, when I studied abroad in Argentina (I can’t believe that was 6 years ago now!), I decided to take a Portuguese class.  No, I wasn’t thinking clearly.  And after one semester of a class that met once a week for three hours at a time, I definitely wouldn’t recommend it.  Not that I didn’t like the language, as a matter of fact, I loved it.  But taking a third language in your second language isn’t such a bright idea.  

I don’t ever remember being so tired.  After those classes my brain would be fried.  If I didn’t know a word in Spanish, then I couldn’t learn what it was in Portuguese….what I needed was a English/Spanish/Portuguese dictionary.  I remember taking the oral exam at the end of the semester.  My best friend was my partner and near the end of the exam, we didn’t know if the professor was speaking Portuguese or Spanish….but we made it through and did well.

Now, six years later I’ve decided to give Portuguese another chance.  And I’ve learned that I can really understand it pretty well, but the pronunciation is very different from Spanish and has a very nasal sound at times.  I’ve really enjoyed it so far and hope to practice it a lot this year!

What new things have you started in 2014?

 

 

No hay tocino

 

 

I can’t believe that it’s been over 5 years since I completed my study abroad program in Cordoba, Argentina! Where does the time go!?

I guess time flies when you’re having fun!

For some reason today I’ve been thinking about a particular event that occurred while studying abroad….I think that we were about half way through our stay and a bunch of us began to crave things that we couldn’t have (or things that just weren’t common in Argentina).  Prime example: bacon.  Now, I’m not an avid bacon eater….once in a while if I head out to IHOP I may munch on a strip or two….but like I said before, you always want what you can’t have.

And we had it bad…we found ourselves talking and talking and talking about bacon….A LOT.  Finally, one Saturday afternoon when we just couldn’t take it anymore we decided we were going to have a good ole’Merican breakfast….yes all of our host families thought we were crazy (those crazy Americans and there BIG breakfasts!).  But the day of our feast as we entered the grocery we couldn’t find the one thing we all really really wanted….BACON!  So, we settled for jamón crudo…and fried it up a bit….at least it smelled like bacon!

Mi poesía

Un poema de mi portafolio (Córdoba, Argentina 2008)

cordoba, argentina centro

N5

             O N5, espero para vos

Y espero

                     Cada día estoy ocupada y corro a tu parada

Cada vez más frustrada

Porque espero para vos

                                                   Y espero.

Cuando pienso que no puedo esperar más,

                                Te veo en la distancia y llegas.

                     Hoy tu forma es distinta,

         Ay, más vieja, las ventanas son tintas

 Y por hoy no vamos a estar lentos porque esta es tu forma de los años setenta

¡Y tu conductor no espera, conduce como está en una carrera!

¡Qué suerte!

Hay un asiento y puedo sentarme

Con mis pensamientos de tus obreros,

Tus lindos pasajeros,

Mi querido N5.

Hay mamás y papás

Abuelos y tías…

Siempre están pasando los días

De ir y de vuelta.

Enfrente de mí hay una chica, y ¿cómo se llama, Candela, Norita?

No sé, pero somos parecidas, alumnas, mujeres, las mochilas listas.

Aunque hay una cosa distinta,

Ella es una nativa, tiene su vida acá en Argentina.

¿Y yo? Yo no soy la misma, nativa ni argentina…

Yo soy observadora (shhh…no decís extranjera mi querido N5, porque por ahora soy otra pasajera, exactamente como los demás).

Y aunque espero para vos

                                                                Y espero

Adentro de sus puertas querido N5,

Puedo ser la Candela, la Norita

La alumna, la mujer, la chica con la mochila lista

Puedo ser argentina.

Inglés (English)

N5

Oh N5, I wait for you

And I wait

Each day I am busy and

I run to your stop

Each time more frustrated

Because I wait for you

And I wait.

When I think that I can’t wait

More,

I see you in the distance and

You arrive.

Today your appearance is different,

Oh, much older, the windows are tinted

And for today we are not going to be slow because you are from the 70s

And your driver doesn’t wait, he drives like he’s in a race!

What luck!

There is a seat and I can sit

With my thoughts of your workers,

Your beautiful passengers,

My beloved N5.

There are mothers and fathers

Grandparents and aunts…

Always passing the days

Coming and going

In front of me there is a girl, and what is her name, Candela, Norita?

I don’t know, but we appear the same, students, women, bookbags ready.

However there is something different,

She is a native, she has her life here in Argentina.

And me? I am not the same, native nor Argentinian…

I am an observer (shhh…don’t say foreigner my beloved N5, because for now I am another passenger, exactly like the others).

And although I wait for you

And

I wait

Inside your doors beloved N5,

I can be Candela, Norita

The student, the woman, the girl with the bookbag

I can be Argentinean.