This Argentinean Life

My academic schedule here in Buenos Aires is no less burdensome than in New York. I have about two classes a day, except for Fridays of course—the day of rest, on which G-D created NYU. And yet somehow, given the exact same schedule my life is unimaginably less stressful. Going to school in New York my nails are always bitten down low, my hands quiver with hyper-caffeination, and I’m constantly at the point of seizing from the pressures of academia. And yet here in the sweet, summery, Buenos Aires, the sun is always shining, and time is on my side. There’s a very real, integral difference in the that way Portenos and New Yorkers live their daily lives—an alternate notion of punctuality, obligation, etc.—that you too start to adopt after living amongst these extremely relaxed people. Though this Argentine influence has changed my life in many ways, mi vida cotidiana has been most altered by my newfound ability to sit in a café for up to ten, yes that’s correct, ten hours a day. While I have always been a lover of cafes, I was not in the habit of frequenting them daily. Nor did I realize that I would enjoy going into one in the morning with my computer and some books and leaving just before class at five—or on the weekends even later at maybe ten or eleven. Sometimes I’ll even have several lunches in one day, as different friends come in to visit me at the café. What I find so amazing is that the café owners don’t care if you spend 60 pesos or only order an agua sin gas all day, they simply expect that people will come in, order only a coffee and stay for hours.

tienda de cafe

This notion of the café embodies everything that is different about New York and Buenos Aires in my opinion. In New York, I would never dream about sauntering in to some strange café just to try it out. Instead, I would B-line it straight to “Think” where I know the coffee is excellent. There I’d take a nap in the extremely long line that would probably be extending out of the door by the time I got there. I’d quickly buy a latte (perhaps a cookie or some other treat), race out the door, speed walk to accomplish both my errands and cardio for the day in one fowl swoop, and finally finish off the long haul at my apartment, having made endless inefficient trips back-and forth across the city, exhausted, unable to move, with swollen feet temporarily stuck in my shoes. The Argentines, however, would be repulsed by this fairly common New York ritmo de vida. I imagine they’d stare confusedly at the sea of New Yorkers darting about with their Starbucks cups in hand. I mean, you can’t even get coffee to go in Buenos Aires! If you request un café con leche para llevar, they will give you something in a little Styrofoam cup with a makeshift lid on top. This in itself means that once outside the café you'll have to continue on at a gentle pace, a stroll actually, so as not to spill your café para llevar. The Argentine system is actually designed to force you to be leisurely, and since you cannot run, you will probably be late for any ensuing engagements you might have--like class—but fear not, your profesora will be much later than you.