Buenos Aires, Argentina

Beauty is a prerequisite for social justice. If you care about the marginalized, the misfits, those who are the edges of society, who are mistreated and abused - if you want to see justice brought to them then you have a vested interest in cultivating an appreciation for beauty. - Skye Jethani 

It's very apparent. I am in a different country. 

Perhaps I should have expected this. But in the 30-second speech I used to rattle off to explain my study abroad plans, I would pretty much just throw, "and then we're going to spend 2 weeks in Argentina," right in there without missing a beat. And that's sort of how I though of it, just another stop in the general South America experience.

But before the new stamp was dry in my passport, it was obvious that Buenos Aires can be compared to  nowhere. There's mate on the subways, entire neighborhoods dedicated to football teams, and giant old ships watched over by scrap metal sculptures in the center of the city. The pastries are sweet and the mate is bitter. The museums are grand and the nightlife is frenetic. And the cafes are... there. I'm taking full advantage of this fact because I've discovered cafes are not a thing in Santiago. And this I could get used to:

Amanda and I have settled in to our new home, a funky two-story house furnished with floor to ceiling bookshelves and photos of John Lennon, Charlie Chaplain and Eva Perón. Before meeting host family number 3, I was feeling a little weary of inserting myself into other people's lives, but after a few mealtime conversations about Mark Twain, Louisa May Alcott, the American Civil War and the concept of concrete infinities, I knew I was going to get along just fine here. The only problem is the persistent desire to just stay inside and read. 

Cafes and books were also the theme of my favorite afternoon here. After a long day of school visits last week, friends and I ducked into El Gato Negro. After a lovely conversation over our drinks, we found ourselves in a used bookstore. While I was in raptures over finding a copy of Despertar de Primavera (Spring Awakening) with an inscription from 1977, Carolina was busy chatting up the proprietors, a sweet old woman and her son who wanted to practice his English. I wandered back in time to join in a round of mate, which is evidently a normal thing to do with strangers in a used book store in Buenos Aires. 

On a larger scale, the city is huge and sprawling and seeps culture. Culture of the art, music, philosophy variety. And that's made me wonder about how we define and value culture. In my classes, we talk about educating for change. That's something I believe in 100%, but I tire of the political flavor to the discussions. And the conversations I've had here about authors and art have been invigorating and affirming. It's made me realize how firmly I believe that we should be educating a generation capable of cultivating not only change but culture as well. I believe we must treat culture, both our own and others', as worthy of study and profound and useful in its own right. Here I've seen high school students painting murals in response to literature they read and elementary schoolers putting on plays about human rights. And I believe the vibrancy of the city is the result. 

I want to be a part of advocating for justice in this world. I'd like to one day teach students about the Madres de La Plaza de Mayo (who, by the way, I marched with on Thursday). But I also hope I can get some teenagers to write poetry. Because look at the world that celebrating culture can create!