Photograph by Rian DundonI am going to leverage some creative discharge and write about a number of readings and lectures from NYU in Shanghai’s Topics in Contemporary China course. This mandatory 2 credit course meets once a week and features a different prominent guest speaker each week. One of the more memorable lectures was a showcase by Rian Dundon, a former Tisch photography student who traveled China and documented his journey. He was able to capture such intense photos (dunnflicks.com) of the Chinese youth cultural movement because he lived amongst them and naturally befriended them. As someone who was born and raised in New York, the only things I knew about China, even as an ethnically Chinese person, were things I heard about in mainstream media or read about in biased social studies textbooks. I had no idea that chinese youth in contemporary China was struggling for identification, for an artistic medium and self expression. Dundon showed us photographs of a graffiti artist known as “ren”, the Chinese word for people. Ren was the most prolific graffiti artist in China and tagged every inch of his mother’s house with spraypaint, including her leather sofa. She approved of this and encouraged it because she wanted him to be happy, it was a way of showing support for her only son. Putting his artistic expression above material goods. Dundon also showed numerous photos of Chinese dropout skateboarders who made journeys to a province in China were marijuana grew naturally. He showed us a tattoo artist who dropped out of school to pursue his dream and was now running a successful tattoo business, making an equivalent of a high American salary.

Gary Wang was another memorable lecturer who shed light on the artistic cultural movement of China’s youth. Gary was China’s first hip-hop DJ and a true pioneer in bringing the genre and culture to China. He won numerous international DJ competitions and is the godfather of hip-hop in China. He spoke of China not having a true hip-hop movement and needed such to truly identify with itself. It couldn’t keep borrowing from others and had to innovate and foster creativity to truly succeed. He was featured in a documentary that also included MC Webber, China’s premiere MC, and a prolific female graffiti artist. Gary has since opened a club dedicated to the hip-hop movement and features international DJs and MCs. He founded The Lab which fosters young DJs and teaches anyone willing to learn for free. Topics in Contemporary China was one giant learning experience, the readings and lectures from it completely flipped my image of youth in China.

I came to Buenos Aires knowing that it was tragically impossible to work without a visa, assuming that classes would be effortless, and under the general impression that I would be overrun with free time to dispose with as I pleased. I figured that this burdenless respite from actual school would be a great opportunity to tackle my daunting stockpile of books to-be-read. I came to the city with a few novels, a few wild cards, The Communist Manifesto—things I had been meaning to get around to, but had put off reading till I had ample time to spare. After leafing through a little Cormac McCarthy, and oddly, Moore’s Utopia, I decided that while in Argentina, I should shift my focus southward. I picked up 100 Years of Solitude, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Chronicle of A Death Foretold, and of course Borges.

As I picturesquely carted my Latin American authors around with me—sprawled out in the Bosque Palermo, smoking a cigarette on the granite steps of the Malba, basking in the sun near the Recoleta market, and sipping café con leche in various corner bistros—I almost always encountered the very same, very strange, reaction from onlookers nearby.

“What are you reading?” they might say as they asked for a light, or handed me my coffee over the counter. “Marquez, Diaz, Borges…” I’d reply with a satisfied little smirk, showing them the books’ façade. “En Ingles!” they’d shriek back with terror, as though I were holding something incendiary, something mutinous or blasphemous. I’d have to justify myself to the barista, the Porteno, the stranger—explain to them that my Spanish is embarrassingly poor, and that it would be far too difficult to read these books in their native Castallano. I’d plead my case of how I still wanted to enjoy the masterpiece, and how truly amazing I thought it was—always to an unyielding look of disapproval.

book cover: Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges

I took to reading in my room, or isolated in the middle of a large grassy park, to avoid these awkward confrontations, and so settled in comfortably as I delved into Borges’ Labyrinths. Labyrinths could not be a more appropriate title for this collection of short stories. Not only do many of them relate to real or figurative “labyrinths,” but the individual tales are so profuse and loaded with mysteries and puzzles that the act of reading them feels much like being in a labyrinth. I had to reread the stories several times in order to grasp even some of the metaphysical mystery, layered paradoxes, literary and historical allusions. Still I’m certain there is much that has gone over my head.

Two stories I liked in particular for the twist delivered at the end, and the poignancy of their final lines were, “The Garden of Forking Paths” and “The Shape of the Sword.”

“He knew my problem was to indicate (through the uproar of the war) the city called Albert, and that I had found no other means to do so than to
kill a man of that name. He does not know (no one can know) my innumerable contrition and weariness.” –Garden of Forking Paths, Borges

Call me a blasphemer if you will for reading Borges in English, but I felt closer to the culture as I became familiar with such a central figure in Argentine literature. And if I could make the choice again, I’d still read it in English, because it was difficult enough to understand in my native language, let alone in Spanish for which nuance does not yet exist to me.

What you won't find in France One of the books I am reading for class is called Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik, and is a collection of travel anecdotes by a journalist who spent a year in Paris with his wife and child. One of my favorite chapters is entitled “The Rules of the Sport” and is about the author’s attempts to find and attend a gym in Paris. This is a common concern for many NYU students, and one that does not have an easy solution and demonstrates one of the major differences between American (particularly New York) and French attitudes.
Gopnik, in his search for a gym, is constantly met by surprise and confusion when asking friends for advice. And when he does find a gym, the “rigorous” subscription is for once a week, and the pristinely manicured woman in a tracksuit behind the desk is forced to negotiate a price for an unlimited number of visits. At first, the gym is under construction and there aren’t any machines yet. Then, he must pass an oral exam with a “professeur” before touching the machines. Then, must have a walk through of how to use the machines with another “professeur”. And finally, he is allowed to work out. But when he asks for a towel, he is told that they have not been purchased yet, but they are “envisaged”.
The French have a very different attitude towards exercise. Since I have begun running, it has occurred to me even more. After the first time I went for a run, I was sore, and casually mentioned it to a coworker to explain why I was making funny faces when sitting down and standing up, and her only response was, “That’s why it’s better not to do sport.” When I bumped into my host mom all red and sweaty, she asked surprised, “You went jogging? Where did you go?” and when I told her my route, she was taken aback, “But that’s kilometers away!”
I suppose the cultural incomprehension of the New Yorker’s compulsive need for exercise isn’t so shocking, unless you consider the amount of calories in the average French dish. Everything is covered is cheese, butter, and fatty little pieces of ham called “lardons”, no need to explain that one. And yet, everyone is skinny. Chocolate is considered a necessary part of any well-rounded breakfast, every salad has cheese, and yet French women remain slim without feeling the need to hit the gym.
Gopnik has a peculiar way of explaining the French contempt for exercise. He has a theory that the French get the same rush out of battling French bureaucracy as New Yorkers get from a good workout. He says, “Three or four days a week you’re given something to do that is time-consuming, takes you out of yourself, is mildly painful, forces you into close proximity with strangers, and ends, usually, with a surprising rush of exhilaration: ‘Hey, I did it.’” But even if the French prefer the mental and paperwork workout to the sweaty and muscly one, it still leaves me wondering what melts away those calories in the bodies of French women who feel no shame in eating tarts, candies, and crème brulée. Certainly, the French attitude did not have the same effect on my hips.

My bibleI already finished the book that I discussed in the last blog post dedicated to discussing readings so I planned on speaking about a travel guide that I've been using frequently in Buenos Aires. Time Out Buenos Aires is a travel book that was recommended to me by Steve last semester before I came to Argentina. I was planning on buying it at the travel book store in Union Square, but I just never got around to purchasing it. Upon arriving to Buenos Aires, and to my homestay, I noticed that there were a lot of books on the bookshelf in my room. Many of the books were religiously based, some were various spanish-english dictionaries and phrase books and there were a couple of guide books and maps. I read some of the tips in the Lonely Planet guide book to Buenos Aires but for some reason the pages just couldn't grasp my attention. I noticed a very brightly colored book tucked somewhere in the back and reached for it, at first thinking it was a book of coupons. Instead, what I found was my bible for the next semester. Time Out in Buenos Aires is a very vibrant book that has everything relating to Buenos Aires and its habitants including restaurant reviews, daily itineraries, phrases used by porteños, tips for bars and clubs and what I love most about it: maps. The maps in the back of the guidebook have helped me in moments when I thought I was going to have a panic attack in an unknown barrio and too embarrassed to ask for directions. It shows every barrio in Buenos Aires, its main streets and the actual numbers alloted on each block, so you know how many blocks you need to walk to get when you need to go. It's color-coded and it's absolutely necessary to have if you're not comfortable enough with the vastness of this large city. Buenos Aires is the largest city I've ever lived in, and this map has helped me greatly and is something that I still use even after being here for almost four months.

Another great aspect of the guidebook is that it breaks down Buenos Aires into its major barrios. There is so many barrios in Buenos Aires, if you can manage to see each one of them, you deserve a gold star. The book gives you historical information about the barrio and provides a very picturesque description complete with glorious pictures. It also gives you must-see sites in the barrio, museums, galleries, parks, gardens and much much more. For someone like me who lives in the largest barrio in Buenos Aires (palermo), this guide was very helpful in seeing things that otherwise I most likely would have looked over. Restaurants are also broken up by cuisine, and then by barrio as well. Considering that many restaurants here don't accept credit cards, it also tells you whether or not credit cards are accepted, then giving a round-about price as to how much a meal would cost. The same thing is done for bars, but I normally don't use Time Out for finding a bar. If you're into festivals, the book helps greatly as it also lets you know which festivals are happening and during which months. I found about the International Film Festival in Buenos Aires from Time Out as well as the South American Music Conference. Not only does the guidebook provide a practical, day-by-day guide to Buenos Aires, but it also provides information about the political, economic and social state and history of Buenos Aires (and all of Argentina) that may very well affect travelers: on thursdays you can find the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo demonstrating through Plaza de Mayo for human rights, the lack of monedas affecting public transportation, social and cultural constructions of the dialogue of porteñas, etc.

But, the greatest thing that the book has to offer, more-so than it's maps and reviews, is the guide it provides for minority travelers. Traveling as a minority, whether due to sexual orientation, race, gender or religion, is always a peculiar experience, and this book has provided a haven for a very much neglected group. It provided LGBT organizations and groups for support for queer people, as well as bars and clubs for those who miss hip hop music and good reggae vibes. My book is so worn out and I've given it to my good friend who's come to Buenos Aires to visit me and I'm not going to lie, it kind of hurt to part with it.

I really like Vaclav Havel. The way he writes and his position on the government. In many of his writings, he portrays his dislike for the communist government in a peaceful manner. He has a Ghandi-like approach that is neither easy to emulate or follow. Mr. Havel is courageous standing up to the communist regime. It’s easy to say that words are less powerful than an act. Yet, Havel’s words are so powerful and influential that it’s no wonder he had many followers. I mentioned this in a previous blog about the writers today, and if we any revolutionary writers existed today. I love Ayn Rand, and regard her as one of my favorite writers. However, I can’t say that Ayn Rand is a writer of our time. Rather, she is an earlier writer and not one of today. With the recent gay marriage debacle about Miss California, I can’t help but to see Perez Hilton as an avid advocate. Though his credibility isn’t so solid, I still think that his blog brings new light and method of advocacy to a new level. And I find that to be a positive action towards progress. Progress is never easy and fast. And reading Havel’s writings, it makes me wonder the kind of patience it takes to see change.

Kundera's "The Joke"Continuing my fascination with the Czech author Milan Kundera, I chose to write about another book of his that I’m almost through reading by the name of “The Joke”. Again, Milan Kundera’s wit and political incorrectness is evident, and I can’t help but admire his insight through his shocking revelations. This is Kundera’s first published novel, which introduced him to the world of publishing and literary excellence not just in the Czech sphere, but to a global audience. The story of “The Joke” is one that explores the possibility of history playing “jokes” on us. The story follows the character Ludvik Jahn, who sends his girlfriend a satirical postcard that criticizes Czechoslovakia’s communist regime, and pokes fun at them, which they do not take too lightly, and instead choose to kick him out of the communist party and expel him from his university, while forcing him to join a special army regiment with other so-called “enemies of the political state”. The novel subsequently explores the ripple effect of our actions, and who it can affect and how it can change history. The novel explores concepts in traveling, such as traveling for a greater purpose, or because one is forced to (such as Ludvik’s character).

The story is one that reflects themes we all feel when traveling, such as fascination with the unfamiliar and how exciting, new and fresh it seems, but also with common elements of human behavior, and the illogical emotions we sometimes experience because of it. The book is one that is, as most of Kundera’s work, a literary masterpiece that uses the political situation in the Czech Republic as a story propellant, not as the defining piece of the story. But moreso, it explores the negative sides of human behavior, discussing bitterness and anger (at those who punished him for said “joke”), revenge (he seduces the wife of the leader who led his expulsion), and also the dangers of being so entirely self-absorbed, as Ludvik’s character becomes as time leaves him more and more bitter. The theme that I found most evident however, as the element of the “joke” alludes to, is the fact that sometimes we have to realize that things are not in our control, as much as we like to think otherwise. Ludvik comes to this conclusion about ¾ of the way into the book, realizing in his words, “historical inevitability”. By utilizing this, both as humans, and as travelers (yes, you will sometimes get rained out and not be able to see something), we can come to better terms with it when it does, in fact, happen. 

Kafka, in Berlin a few months before his deathIt’s interesting that Kafka is so associated with Prague, when in reality Kafka didn’t really enjoy living here that much. In fact, the “happiest” Kafka ever was when at the very end of his life when he moved to Berlin for a few months prior to dying an early death. In “Letter to my father”, Kafka writes a letter to his father explaining his grievances about how he was reared as a child. The discussion of religion comes about throughout the text, but one in particular instance Kafka laments that it was his father who hindered his practice of Judaism. When people talk about the Jewish quarter in Prague, Kafka is often included in that situation—the old/new synagogue prides itself on having Kafka be a visitor. Kafka grew up right in Old Town Square around the corner from St. Nicholas Church where hundreds of years ago, public hangings occurred. As a child, when Kafka was complaining one night for nothing but attention (he was about four years old), his father put him outside of the apartment for hours. Kafka claims that it was this rearing that led him to hate his father. Prague was kind of a “home-base” for Kafka. Since his relationship with his family wasn’t good and he lived with his parents almost his entire life, getting out of the country was a heavy weight lifted. Another issue in Kafka’s life that he writes is the relationship he has with women. He fell seriously for two, but could never commit for what I believe to be selfish reasons—that he didn’t want to interrupt the work of his writing (which at the time he felt was crap) and that a commitment so strong was bound to break. Learning about Kafka’s history do make his works easier to understand. For some reason, it always seems easier to understanding something complex when we know the person who created the complexity. But the downside to this is that I know dislike Kafka. The tribulations he expresses to his father seem like something a bratty kid would say if he couldn’t get more ice cream—that and the letter is 90 pages. Clearly, Prague would not be the same without Kafka, but I doubt the reverse is true.

Bar BritanicoIn my creative writing class here I read Walter Benjamin for the first time. Wikipedia describes him as a “German Jewish Marxist Literary Critic” and I smile. I guess he is that, or at least that’s one way to categorize him. Benjamin is also identified with the Frankfurt school, the same institution responsible for a solid chunk of introductions to sociology and cultural studies. His works read as snippets of his own writing interspersed with swaths of quotations from an immense mental collection of sources. In a way I relate him to Borges because both men write very consciously as members of a larger tradition. But Benjamin is not a fiction writer so his texts include the words which inspired them. Reading a chapter from The Arcades Project, a collection of essays vaguely focused around the Parisian arcades of the late nineteenth century, reads like an expanded and engaging reference work which strives to catalogue the sense of an era—the sense of space in particular.

In class we read a chapter on the Flâneur. In his own indirect and multi-voiced way Benjamin defines the Flâneur in many ways but most simply as an urban wanderer who experiences the city as they walk through streets and the emerging bustling public spaces which began to characterize Paris towards the end of the 1800s. The Flâneur has an encyclopedic knowledge of the city. They know its history; the gory details, the pomp and circumstance. Yet the monuments don’t attract them as much as do the people. The Flaneur is a fly-on-the-wall but not as insignificant or invisible. Benjamin calls him or her a journalist and a detective, but with stories only for themselves. Yet the Flaneur is also “buoyant” and a true lover of life as opposed to a urban hermit like Dostoevsky’s Raskolnikov or the Man in the Crowd, a mysterious figure in Edgar Allen Poe’s story by the same title which Benjamin cites multiple times in his essay on Flânerie.

I took The Arcades Project out of the library and found a short essay titled “Mirrors” in which Benjamin muses about the rising number of mirrors in the Paris, “in cafes and restaurants, in shops and stores, in haircutting salons and literary salons, in baths and everywhere”. He devotes much of his time describing why mirrors are used. To expand space. To spread light. To support egotism. He also gets at how mirrors transform things. He says that all the mirrors, especially in the arcades, evoke ambiguity; “for although this mirror world may have many aspects, indeed infinitely many, it remains ambiguous, double-edged.”

I chose to write about “Mirrors” because I’ve had my own musings about mirrors here in Buenos Aires. Soon after I got here I realized that there were not only mirrors in cafes and restaurants but there were also small reflective rectangles in subway cars by the doors (for security), not to mention many newer buildings have tall tinted windows on their first floors which I have seen people adjusting their appearance in on more than one occasion. The mirrors in the busses are in the same places as they are in New York but they are engraved with delicate and ornate designs. I ended up asking the same question that Benjamin did. What is at the root of Buenos Aires’ obsession (too strong?) with mirrors. Amplification of space. Egotism. To spread light. But here there is something else.

At first I guessed (more hoped than guessed) that mirrors might be so common because of the silver found in Argentina and Latin America when Buenos Aires was beginning to take shape. Mirrors are made by joining a thin layer of silver to a pate of glass and Argentina was named for Argentum, a Greek epithet for silver. When my parents visited I posed the question to my dad and he didn’t have to think before he said, “Paris”. When I saw Benjamin’s essay and read his descriptions I saw a similarity and a relation. Here, the designs of the oldest cafés and many important buildings were taken from European models. The landowning class’ desire to appear Enlightened, French, Spanish, Parisian. The mirrors here may reflect a society preoccupied with appearance, aesthetics, and seeing over the shoulder, being the fly on the wall while sipping a café con leche; but the mirrors are also a symbol of a reflection conjured from across the Atlantic. Talk about amplification of space.

The Argentina ReaderThe Argentina Reader by Gabriela Nouzeilles and Graciela Montaldo has literally saved my life this semester. It is a collection of essays and primary texts about every important era in Argentine history with interesting analyses of each text written by the editors; it basically has everything you need to know about Argentina, from perspectives even Argentines don’t know about. I have been assigned to read many of the texts for various classes this semester, did not understand a word because I do not know what I was thinking taking all my classes in Spanish after only studying the language for a year, and went to The Argentina Reader, and the text in English. It was the only book I brought with me, the only book I needed, for three hours on a plane and 31 hours on buses through Patagonia this spring break. I give all the credit of my pleasantly surprising Historia midterm results to Gabriela Nouzeilles and Graciela Montaldo. Anything mildly informational about Argentine history I have thrown in to any other post was knowledge I gained from this book.

Monday night three friends from the program and I were invited to dinner at an Argentine’s apartment. We met him a few weeks ago at a boliche (club) we go to when we can’t think of something more creative to do. We were standing outside and he and some friends stumble (literally) out of a cab and immediately start telling us they were just robbed by a transvestite prostitute. I didn’t believe a word, but later found out it was true. We talked to them for a while longer, a few of us exchanged numbers with little intention of actually seeing each other again, and then we left. We ran into this funny group again at a party we happened upon at the Palermo Golf Club, and they actually helped us get in for free and with relatively no wait. Finally we ran into them again at a random bar last Friday and we decided it was our fate to be friends. All of this relates back to The Argentina Reader because at this dinner, I notice one has a different accent from the other two. I ask him if he’s from Buenos Aires also and his friend, a bit drunk by now, jumps in and says, “no he is not from Buenos Aires, he is from the provincia. We are showing you the civilization and the barbarism of Argentina,” (this is also an example of the porteño ego). “Wait a second,” I say, “are you referencing Sarmiento (the first president of Argentina, and author of the book Civilización y Barbarie - Vida de Juan Facundo Quiroga)?” They were stunned by my knowledge of Argentine history. Little did they know I had read excerpts of Civilización y Barbarie. Thanks, Argentina Reader! 

"It may be truism that Britain and America are two nations divided by a common language, but it's truer to say that the two nations are united by language and divided by everything else. These differences--- of manners, mores, assumptions, expectations--- are the subject of 'The Anglo Files,' by Sarah Lyall..." (New York Times review)

Sarah Lyall

The second book that I have been reading for this class is entitled "The Anglo Files: A Field Guide to the British" by Sarah Lyall. Sarah Lyall, an American who has moved and has lived in Britain for over a decade with her English born husband has written a book about her first experiences living in England and the strangeness she has encountered. The fourteen chapters of the book, one entitiled 'Naughty Boys and Rumpy-Pumpy', comment on English eccentrics, animals, food, class, sex, and inevitably, the British and their teeth. She does like to poke fun at both Parliament and the House of Commons, but Lyall does in fact like and respect the British people. 

The first thing that drew my attention to this book way Lyall's comical way of writing. (If you are looking for a book with humor and sarcasm, this is definitely one to pick up!) She takes the obvious stereotypes of England and makes it interesting, without keeping it the same comment recycled and put on paper.

"Just as some women are inexplicably attracted to prison inmates, so others yearn above all for Englishmen, with their thrilling accents, rumpled boyish hair, and ability to make even pointless banalities sound like brilliant repartee. For one of those, you think, and you will never be lost for conversation...Englishmen present an impeccable facade---capable, articulate, charming and, best of all, ripe for emotional awakening at the deft hands of a clever foreigner..." (11-12)

Along with her clever witticism, this book give an insight into the British people and the curiosities and peculiarities that we, as outsiders, and more importantly, as Americans, see in them. She draws a line between our two cultures, solidifying that language may be the only thing the US and England share in common. "We look to the future; they look to the past. We run for election; they stand for it. We noisily proclaim our Americanness; they shuffle their feet and apologize for their Britishness." Lyall also tries her best at tackling the common preconceptions of the British, all of which, in her telling, turn out to be more or less true. First, it is clear that in her mind cleanliness is not up to her American standards. Second, the dependably bad food. And lastly, the issue of Englishmen as being gay. I don't know if I can agree with her on these points that she brings up but it was nonetheless entertaining to hear from her point of view.

All in all, I found this book entertain to say the least. It was an interesting look at the British through the eyes of an American journalist whom is now living in England.