Category Archives: daily life

life back home

Oh yea, there’s also that life going on back in the northern hemisphere. Like the sprinkler system whose settings still reflect winter conditions (ours is the dry and dying lawn across the street, photo taken from Kim and Steve’s front door). The decision about whether to pull up all (irrigated, non-native, water-sucking) front lawn grass and convert to other drought-tolerant plants may have been made for us! Though we can’t plant new things until late fall when the weather cools again.

 

Now that Chris’s primary teaching responsbilities are over, he’s been prepping for the three classes he’ll be teaching this fall at Redlands. Last week we learned that he and one of his colleagues in Environmental Studies (Wendy McIntyre) received a grant from HP for teaching their field-based courses with new technologies (tablet pcs, gps, digital cameras, etc.). All good, and now they have to do the work! I’ve been trying to get him do write a guest posting on the blog. Send him an email (sinton@verizon.net) with encouragement.

 

When we do return to California in 4 weeks, it won’t be for long. We “don’t work” in the summers, according to our faculty contracts, and by June 18 we’ll be in Vermont. Six weeks or so of travels, visits, and vacation around New England. When we’re in Middlebury we’ll also close on the Monroe St house sale, fingers crossed! Last month we signed the contract with mixed feelings: thrilled at the financial prospect of not owning two homes (not to mention the rented one in Argentina!), but twinges of nostalgic regret for cutting off this tangible connection to our old life. The new owners will be incoming Middlebury faculty with young kids, and we have good images of their enjoying the home we built.

 

Thanks to all the people in the States who are keeping this “life back home” running smoothly: Kim, Steve, Nathan, Monica, Theresa, Ingrid, and unnamed others. I send my appreciative thoughts of this while I am sitting in a neighborhood coffee shop (with wi-fi), sipping my café con leche, drafting the syllabus for my fall class on spatial thinking, an instant messaging with my sister in Mexico. Emily, my trusty companion, reads her book and comments on the people walking by. I’m thinking the people around here don’t worry too much about their grass turning brown.

Argentina Day 2, Day 51

It’s all so old that it’s new again. What better way to spend time in the modern world then checking hair for nits (circa 300 BCE) while listening to downloaded podcasts of NPR’s Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me.

profiting from your dreams


The other day someone at Chris’s office gave him a handy bookmark. Handy because on one side it has a calendar and ruler, and on the other it lists numbers that correspond with topics of dreams. How does it work? Dream topics = numbers = choices for lottery tickets. So, let’s say you wake up in the middle of the night with images of a chicken drinking wine in a eucalyptus tree, well that would equal 25 – 45 – 37, though I’m not yet sure how to best arrange the numbers themselves. Apparently the use of this system is quite widespread; I’ll have to ask someone who knows better how it all works. Stay tuned.

Argentina 2, Day 33 – home schooling


 

Let’s just say that my experiences in the last month have given me a new-found respect for parents who home-school their children. I know people make that decision for all sorts of reasons, some of which are much more intellectually or morally inspired than ours. We simply took the easy way out: we knew how hard it would be to find a handicapped-accessible school that was willing to entertain the idea of having a physically-disabled 8th grader, and we didn’t even try. And we were right: the school that Eric and Julia attend could not have handled Emily’s needs, from bathrooms with stalls into which her walker could not have entered to high-school curriculum with little flexibility for a non-Spanish speaker. And their school is one of the most friendly and accommodating ones. 

So Emily’s part of the RISE program, which stands for Redlands Independent Study Experience, or something like that. Each week she receives an assignment sheet detailing her tasks to be completed, and at noon each Monday spends up to an hour talking (via Skype) to a teacher who works within the RISE program (as she’s doing in this photo). Usually students participate in RISE for shorter terms (like being out for medical reasons for a few weeks) and are still local (so physically meet with their teacher once/week). Our biggest hurdles have been figuring out how to convert her written work to digital form for ease of e-mailing, since we have no easy access to a scanner. Many things she types onto her own laptop, but if it’s something that’s handwritten, such as workbook pages or tests that she’s completed, I take a picture (.jpg) of it with our digital camera, download that image to my own laptop, clean it up in Photoshop (resize, make sure it’s bright enough, etc.), convert it to a .pdf, combine all the .pdfs into one document, and email to California. It’s been taking 1-2 hours/day to manage it all (these conversions, plus answering questions, listening to all of the “discuss with your parents” topics, and communicating with California). When she returns to school on June 2, Emily immediately returns to her normal 8th grade classroom and will take her year-end final exams. And on that same day I will write a little note to the State of California thanking them for having public schools to which I can direct my tax dollars and send my children so I don’t have to home-school them anymore. Plus a gift from Argentina to Emily’s very nice and accomodating teacher in Redlands who’s never had to spend so much time figuring out trans-continental communication before!

>Argentina 2, Day 30

>

All of a sudden it became fall. Leaves have begun to change (I love how this tree stands out against the violet of the Morning Glory flowers behind it) and we figured out how to turn on the heaters. This house is a bit like a summer cabin. Drafty, with a random assortment of paperback books and only a few kitchen utensils and other modern electronic appliances. No one really NEEDS a toaster, a blender, a microwave, a dishwasher, a washer or dryer, or a vacuum cleaner. We manage quite well with our one spatula, one ladle, one wooden spoon, a broom, and of course the most important thing, our internet cable.

access to the outside world

>

If your glass windows swing open and your screens have little openings – within the framework of iron bars – that you reach through to open shutters that swing open, what’s a door and what’s a window?

Argentina 2, Day 24 – settling in

Seems we’re getting used to a daily routine here. I remember reading somewhere that most habits and routines (exercising, stopping nail biting, flossing, etc.) are more likely to “stick” after a period of 3 weeks. That is, if you can manage to do something for a steady 3 weeks, you reach some tipping point and you’re less likely to stop. Of course, there’s a world of 2-week quitters walking around out there…

So, we made it to through week 3 without leaving. At this point Julia’s the only one who complains, loudly and daily, about being here. She’ll be 10 on Friday and dearly wishes to be in California, or Vermont, with friends, to celebrate her birthday. She doesn’t like sharing a tiny room with her brother. She’s earned the unfortunate title of “Most Likely to be Bitten by Mosquitoes” and re-earns it daily. She’s increasingly frustrated at not being able to communicate – with any fluency – with her classmates. The names of objects and basic verbs are the first elements we learn in foreign languages, and these are inadequate when it comes to discussing nuanced, emotionally-laden, pre-adolescent topics on the playground. Chris and I joke about measuring these life experiences in “couch hours” (i.e., how many hours of psychotherapy on a couch will the person require later in life to recover from a given experience). Julia’s estimate? Immeasurable. Our estimate? I’m banking on zero, but ask us again in a few years.

Otherwise, activities of daily life continue. We don’t have a car here, so all outings require planning and time. We know our immediate neighborhood well. Eric and Julia even went solo on Sunday morning to get bread at the bakery (un kilo de pan, por favor). Fresh from the oven and pennies per serving. Within a 4-block radius we have the laundry place, the pharmacy, the fruit/vegetable store, the meat store, the chicken store (apart from big supermarkets, smaller shops specialize in either cow or chicken and never the twain shall meet), multiple bakeries and ice cream shops, and the cheese/cold cuts store. Cold cuts are fiambres in Spanish. Chris also learned recently that the word fiambre is slang for stiff, as in a cadaver. Yum. With a few more blocks, we can also get to the school supply store, the florist, the bookstore, the hardware store, the bank, the train and bus stations, and a dentist (a very nice woman whom Eric saw yesterday for a problem tooth).

It was dark when we walked home from the dentist, since the appointment had been for 6:30 pm. On the walk home we talked about why 6:30 pm is a totally normal time for Argentines to go to the dentist (the waiting room was packed when we left), the amount she charged us (70 pesos for an hour-long exam including a cleaning, a flouride treatment, a tiny x-ray, and a lesson on proper flossing techniques), why that still would be very expensive for Argentines, how much that would cost in US dollars (about $22), why that kind of appointment would have cost much more in the States, why we couldn’t afford to live here – in anything approaching the lifestyle to which we’ve become accustomed – if we weren’t paid in US dollars, and why if we got regular Argentine jobs here, we wouldn’t be paid in US dollars. It takes about 25 minutes to walk home from the dentist, long enough for meaningful conversations. Especially now that we know which houses have the really scary barking dogs that we have to avoid.

Bubble-Breaking Work

I ought to be more amazed, and appreciative, that I can actually do my California-based job from a remote location in Argentina. A laptop computer loaded with software, a PDA connected to an international infrastructure, electricity transformers, a high-speed internet cable in the living room, and programs like Skype and Marratech actually make it possible. I’m not working a steady 9-5 shift, but since California is four hours behind us in time zones, I do most of my production work in the mornings while people in Redlands are snug in their beds and continue to monitor their afternoon messages while I’m getting my kids to sleep many hours later. 

The only hassle of any significance has been an inconvenient hick-up in the University of Redlands email system that freezes, with some consistency, when I try to “reply” to an email. It works fine when I initiate a new email to someone, but many of my messages are replies, and two times out of five when I hit the “send” button, I get only a “Forbidden” warning. Prohibido. Verboten. Interdit. What’s even more annoying is that once I’ve angered the man-behind-the-curtain-email-reply-wizard, he won’t let me access our Redlands email server – and all internet traffic is slow – for four or five minutes. So, imagine your productivity flow being ground to a halt for 4-5 minutes at least twice an hour. It’s enough to make an international telecommuter want to scream.

(Yes, I’ve already talked to IT support at Redlands about this, but they don’t know what’s going on and it’s confusing enough when I explain that no, I’m not on the UR network and I’m actually not able to stop by their offices and have them take a look at my laptop. And yes, Chris experiences the identical problem when he’s using his Redlands account too from work. And yes, it happens if we’re using webmail over Firefox too.)

Typically I use these short, limbo intervals to work offline or to answer Emily’s homework questions. But by late in the day, when my mind and writing both begin to wander, I’ve been known to grab my PDA and play 4-5 minutes of Bubble Breaker. You know the type of game, with columns/rows of colored balls and when you click on clusters of the same color they disappear, and the larger the cluster, the more points you get. Just a quick 4-5 minute fix of mind-refreshing entertainment. Then it’s back to my day job: making maps, designing classes, writing labs, organizing meetings, coordinating 6-figure proposals to government agencies, all in the name of spatial literacy.

One day last week, Mari (the woman who does some cleaning and cooking for us a few hours/day) was sweeping nearby and said something to me about the paro (the nation-wide agricultural strike that’s affecting the food supply). It was about 6:30 pm and I was in the midst of my 89th forbidden-email interval that day. With guilt I quickly put aside Bubble Breaker and we had a great and informative conversation that helped me finally understand what was happening on the street. She helped break my ignorance bubble.

What a complex structure this thing called work, and what she must wonder about my job. I type, I talk into a microphone, I type some more, I periodically grumble and walk around the house for 5-minute-stretches, then I type some more. Meanwhile, she completes tasks that are immediate and tangible. Clothes are folded, dirt is removed, dishes are washed, food is prepared. For this we pay Mari 15 pesos/hr (about $4.80/hr). For my typing and talking I earn considerably more – and a description of my work means very little to Mari, or Elvi for that matter. Yesterday I used Marratech to teach an hour-long workshop on Census data to a small group of colleagues back in California and Elvi watched in amazement and I set up my webcam and put on my microphone/headset. Then she turned her attention back to the Bubble Breaker game that I had just taught her to play on my PDA.

water woes

I’m the plumber and I’ve come to fix your sink. And yes, plumbers in Argentina have difficulties with jeans riding down low too, so that their “trasero” shows.

Show Me the Body

Moist tropical weather breeds mosquitoes. I hate mosquitoes. I become an angry and determined warrior when I hear them buzzing. Sometimes I let Chris or the kids hunt them down, but there will be no peace until there is certain and verifiable death. Nothing short of delivering the body.