Update

So, when your Mom who somehow has two email addresses yet isn’t really an “email person” says you should update your blog, you should probably update your blog.

I actually have a few post topics lined up, but just haven’t been able to sit down to put them down. Also, I seem to have misplaced my notebook, which has the list of things I plan to cover, making a true update session not quite doable right now. However, I figured I’d finish where I left off and write a bit more about soccer.

As I said before, these Porteñitos are good. The kids with whom we play tend not to be all that big, especially because a lot of the kids with whom we work don’t have the best nutrition, but they are skilled and play with passion and toughness. I’m disappointed with the dearth of bicycle kicks (although the field is concrete, in their defense), but that’s cool. Having been abused for four scores while in goal last week, I guess I’m not really one in a position to criticize.

What’s so interesting about thinking about playing soccer for me is that it sometimes feels like the most foreign thing I’ve encountered while in Buenos Aires, especially the things I’ve come across with LIFE. I’ve done basic office work, afterschool tutoring (lots of fun), etc. And I’ve played sports (to varying degrees of admittedly low to moderate success) all my life. But this game is just such a departure for me from what I’ve been used to doing on the sports field.

On the one hand, it’s kind of like a lot of other sports in that the first thing you can be slightly competent at is defense. If you play with energy and stay in the face of your opponent, you can usually make a difference. While I don’t quite know how to receive a pass, have good footwork, or, how do you say, kick the ball with any accuracy, I can make things hard for offensive players.

Also, like with other sports, you have to figure out how to make decisions on whom to cover on fast break (I don’t know the soccer term) situations and anticipate where the ball is going. For me, it’s kind of like reverse-engineering the Steve Nash Effect, except I’m slightly less than world class in both sports.

The major departure for me is having to use my feet not solely for movement, but as my primary weapon. I’m 23 and still figuring out hand-eye coordination… foot-eye coordination is tougher.

All in all, I still think the sport is great, and I think I’m finally going to make a go at playing with some Argentine adults. If my stealing of the ball from the kid they call “Maradona” during a drill is any indication, I’ll be lining as an MLS alternate practice squad substitute any day now, so I might as well have some international tips to bring back. Yeah, I’m pumped for stealing the ball from a 14 year old. Who’s about 5 inches shorter than I am. And likely less than half my weight. But a steal’s a steal. And for the record, I didn’t JUST crowd him, even if it was a major part of my strategy.

Also, I took a ball to the face once last week and once yesterday. Awesome.

I hope to have more updates in the coming days.

New Sport

My favorite sport in which to participate is, without doubt, basketball. Basketball always has been, and always will be, my favorite sport to play (at least until I’m so old that the only thing I can do is swing a golf club and drive a cart).

I started playing when I was 5 and, especially when mathematical extrapolations told me I was going to be 6’6, had my eye on a pro career for quite some time. However, it looks like I’m topping out short of 6’ and I don’t have the physical abilities usually associated with being really good at basketball (speed, coordination, ups, etc.). Oh, well. I’d still pick b-ball as my sport of choice if I had to pick one thing to commit to play every day for hours a day. Football is sweet, golf is up there for me, and tennis and baseball are certainly decent options.

As you can tell, I’m into classic American sports, the ones that have been popular here for decades. This attraction, I think, interacted somewhat with my pride for my country and, combined with the fact that I came up a few years before soccer had taken much hold in Arkansas, resulted in my not seeing just how this sport engenders such affection.

That, however, has changed.

Monday is the day that LIFE goes to a center called La Farrerre and plays soccer with the boys there. The goal is usually to get as many male volunteers there as possible, and since I decided a few weeks ago to give the sport a shot, I made myself available. Let me tell you, I see why people like this sport, especially in a truncated court on which we were playing. There’s constant movement, there’s nuance of motion, physicality, and the constant opportunity to go mano a mano with an opponent. Also, these kids, generally aged 10-14 or so, were good. So why am I telling you all this?

Well, not only did playing help me appreciate the sport academically, though. I actually LIKE PLAYING SOCCER.

I don’t want to miss any more Monday soccer excursions. I want to find games that will take clumsy, out of shape Americans. I want to find a way to play when I get back to the States. Taking in a match if there are any still going on has become a priority for my time here, as has scoring a goal.*

I got out of the office for a few hours, saw a new part of town, got to familiarize myself a bit with the place and kids I’ll be coordinating (more to come later), and might have started picking up a new sport. Not bad for a Monday. While I still won't choose an afternoon of soccer** over one of basketball (like a certain lame close college friend of mine who knows who he is), it's great to have a new game.

*Yeah, they’re kids, but they’re kids who can play.

**Don't worry, while it's fútbol in Spanish, when I'm speaking English it's still "soccer."

Tim Russert

While this blog is about what I’m doing in Argentina, I completely reserve the right to write about other things as I feel moved to do so. This is such a time.

I don’t get to surf the next much at work. When I finally got a chance after a few hours Friday, I went to The Fix to see if he had any new election analysis up. The title of the most recent blog post “On Tim Russert” led me to believe that I was about to read something about the role the media will play in politics this cycle. Nothing groundbreaking, but I’m always open to a Chris Cillizza piece.

Obviously the first line of the post made it clear to me that this was, unfortunately, far from a run of the mill post.

I have never met Tim Russert nor have I met anyone is his family. Much like when John Spencer of The West Wing died a few years ago, however, his passing has effected me emotionally somewhat. I feel a real sadness knowing that I will never wake up on a Sunday morning and see him, with his almost comfortingly benign countenance masking a tough and incisive journalistic mind, pressing many of our nation’s most powerful people and holding court with America’s leading newspeople.

I, like millions, was a fan of his work on “Meet the Press.” The opening sequence of that show, with the producer’s voice coming over the loudspeaker and booming score, made the viewer feel as if something were truly on the verge of happening,that we were in for an event. Russert’s excitement about politics and his slightly boisterous persona combined with his great knowledge and preparation confirmed this notion.

Though not nearly as much as his family, who have my condolences and who are in my prayers, I will miss this man and what he brought to America’s political table. Though it might be "Meet the Press" if it's Sunday, it won't quite be the same.

La Ciudad Oculta

Yesterday, we went into one of the worst neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. This week's (or one of them, because we had two) birthday party was in La Ciudad Oculta*, a poor, rundown neighborhood that I believe is located on the outskirts of the city. Honestly, whenever I'm riding in the van I felt almost like I did on athletic road trips on high school. I knew that I was somewhere in Connecticut, New Hampshire, or Massachusetts, but past that I would not be able to be much help to anyone attempting to drive to the location.

Anyway, as we get near our site, I have trouble believing what I am seeing. Populating the area are all these little residences that have house-like features but cannot be described as houses.
They are maybe about 10 feet high, 10 feet wide, and 15 feet lengthwise (again, just guesses). They are small, yet people clearly live in them. Through one I think I saw and heard the sounds a man enjoying a sitcom, so I suppose they're wired for electricity. Still, the size, not to mention the construction materials (a mildly unsafe-looking mix of scrap metal and wood), really made me wonder how people can actually live like this.

One of the reasons that this is so troubling is because BsAs is currently going through its winter right now. It is not horribly cold, getting down to around 40-50 degrees. As I said, that's not generally considered to be in the extreme end as cold weather goes (especially to me, as I tend to be cold-blooded, went to school in New England, and am blessed with an organic parka). However, if you have just a few inches of material "protecting" your home from the elements or your parents realize that buying you a good coat throws off the house's food budget for several months, 50 degrees is rough. As we played outside for the hour or so before the birthday party activities got kicked off, I noticed that a disturbingly large portion of the children could not go a few minutes without coughing.

Yesterday was probably in the high 50s, so (especially with long sleeves, which a good deal of the children wore) the temperature was just fine for outdoor play. There was no wind and the air was not moist. Now, maybe I'm making too much of it and there's a bit of a cold going around. I'll try to get a feel for it next week.

Now, to the good part. And without doubt, Wednesday's activity was much more "good part" than it was not. To help keep me on track, I'm going to discuss what the high points of yesterday's outing for me were:

1. If it seems that there are no blacks in the city, then there are REALLY no blacks in this area.

So, I didn't mention this in my post about last week, but one thing that was interesting about the activity I attended was that the first or second question I was asked after introducing myself to the woman in charge of the center was whether my city and my area were made up of mostly black people. I told her, of course, that my hometown Pine Bluff is a majority black city but that my home state of Arkansas, was not. Being so phenotypically different from the vast majority of the country has resulted in that being the first thing many people see when I meet them (and at times the only thing they see if we simply pass by each other on the street). It does not seem to be in a spirit of disdain or hatred, just lack of familiarity and curiosity. Nowhere was this more evident than yesterday.

Most of the boys who attended yesterday were in that 10-14 year range, which is a group I consider generally pretty friendly towards forging quick connections with young guys who engage them. Little did I know that I had an unexpected trump card with this group. Indeed, as I was talking to one of my fellow volunteers, a kid came over and introduced himself to us. After about a minute of conversation, he says something I do not quite understand... "Sabes rapear?" meaning "Do you know____?" However, I really could not figure out what he meant. I tried to make sense of it phonetically, deciding at one point if he was asking me if I knew how to fence. Then he said "Rapear... la musica."

He was asking if I knew how to rap! This, of course, left me in stitches. He seemed like a kid who really enjoys the genre (his favorite rapper is Tupac), but he clearly has had few, if any, chances to talk to an actual black person. I was able to talk for a few minutes with him about rap, as I did with his friends as they gathered around me as if I were Maradona, Evita, and Charley Garcia rolled into one. Honestly, though, they were probably hipper than I am.

A bit later, they asked if I could dance and preceded to do a quick break dancing move to give me an idea of what I was expected to be able to do. The funny thing was, no matter how corny I am and how much I tried to present that information for full disclosure, they were still fascinated by me.

Seriously, though. They're clearly a smart, perceptive bunch. Not ONE asked me if I jump really high or run really fast.

2. I'm not terrible at rope-twirling.

Somehow, the guy who never hopscotched or jumped rope as a child, even as a goof, ended up spending the most time on rope-twirling duty. Surprisingly, it was a lot of fun. The kids kept asking for mustard, and aside from my spending way too much time fearing that I was going to be responsible for some little Porteño's sustaining massive foot and head injuries, it was was a blast. Also, surprisingly for me, more boys got in on the action than I recall I or my friends doing at that age.

3. I'm a sweet goalie.

My goal was like a party in an exclusive nightclub in Fort Knox during a New Year's Eve party hosted by Puff Daddy: You're not getting in. With dress shoes whose combined size almost surely exceeded the amount of time in minutes I have actually spent playing soccer, I was teaching these kids a valuable lesson... namely, that you should never expect anybody to give you anything you don't earn. Unfortunately for them, yesterday was a day when you simply couldn't work hard enough to get one past me.

Sure, a guy who's really good at soccer was playing in front of me, limiting the actual number of goals I had to stop personally. And like many boys of that age, they haven't quite learned to sublimate their loving of scoring for the greater good of a win. Does that change the fact that I played shutout ball? The scoreboard says no.

4. We do a lot wrong and will surely continue to err, but America still stands for something really special in the eyes of many around the world.

It was amazing how many questions I got about the States. They asked about the Twin Towers, the breakdown of land (the country versus cities), its beauty, etc. All these things that I really do not think would have occurred to 12 year old Geoffrey.

As we left around 7, we saw a group of kids returning to their neighborhood after school. Returning to those dirty streets, those petty thugs and gangsters we saw hanging out as we left, and those shabby houses. Honestly, those thoughts made me sad, and thinking about it now does as well. Not only do you fear for these kids' futures on something of an individual level, you see just how much hurt and need there is all around the world. But you know what? As I said earlier, and as I always will say, these kids have brains and potential. If good people keep doing good work, and trying to make it easier for these young people to be who they can be, we'll all be a lot better off. All in all, though, it was a great experience and I look forward to future trips to this place.





*http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/23/world/americas/23argentina.html?_r=1&scp=54&sq=buenos+aires&st=nyt&oref=slogin

Quick note

I know that previous post doesn't read like much of a recap, but I guess that was the stuff that hit me the most. Anyway, the other things I did were to go along with Fernando, a driver for L.I.F.E. who is also a big fan of English music even though he doesn't speak much of the language, on some dropoffs and pickups for L.I.F.E., handle some correspondence, and start the process of refining my role.

Also, I have a prediction, and that is that the flat nose on our van (as opposed to the big, protruding grill) is going to result in my having a conniption. I'm convinced. Just in general, I am often pretty on edge when I'm in the passenger seat of a car. Combined with my constant belief that we have a full foot more up front to maneuver than the driver knows us to have results in my being on the verge of losing it each time we're parking in a tight spot (i.e. almost each time we park).

Is there anything to which you (the reader) want me to pay attention and write about? I'm very open to suggestions, which you can leave in the comments section, along with other... comments, I guess.

A quick recap of my first week

Though I am a pretty corny guy, there is more the title of this blog than just being a bad pun. I mean, it is a bad pun, but it does have its origins in something that's quite good. For the next 2 and a half months, I will be working with Luchemos por una Infancia Feliz y con Esperanza (L.I.F.E.), a non-profit that works with young people in disadvantaged neighborhoods of the capital of Argentina. I will be doing field work, going with other volunteers for the scheduled programming in the communities, while also working in the office of the organization.

I went to one activity last week, a birthday party in the neighborhood of Los Angelitos. It was a really nice experience. For one thing, I haven't gotten to work with children for about a year, so it was good to be back in that kind of situation again. Also, it is nice to be able to bring some joy into a kid's life, even if it's just for a few hours.

There were a few things that were fairly striking:

1. The appearance of the people there. Palermo, one of the nicest areas of the city, is where I am living and where L.I.F.E.'s office is. As many of you know, many of Argentina's people are of Spanish and Italian descent. That fact is very evident here in Palermo. Most people here have that Latin look, with dark European skin and dark hair. However, the features of folks I saw in Los Angelitos were more likely than people in "my part" of the city to be heavily impacted by the genetic legacy of the indígenos who occupied the continent before Europeans came.

2. The appearance of the neighborhood. I have not yet figured out just how to divide the two sets of traits, but there are some things that are different about Buenos Aires and where I'm staying that come about by hvirtue of BsAs' being possibly the most European city in South America and some things that are more a function of the fact that it's a large city. The city proper has a population of around 2.8 million, while the metropolitan population is around 12 million.

At any rate, where I am in the city is what most would consider rather nice. There are security guards and police posted outside every 30 yards or so (nope, I haven't made any inroads on learning the Continental system), lots of small shops, restaurants, and a big, bright shopping center. Walking around Palermo is a bit, to me, like walking around in Manhattan.

Los Angelitos, on the other hand, looks more like what one expects in a poor neighborhood in a developing country. The houses do not seem very nice, there are all manner of sketchy characters to be seen, and the streets are dusty and dirty. If the nice part of BsAs is like the nice part of NYC, Los Angelitos is an honest to goodness poor Latin American barrio.

3. The fact that kids are kids. Just like young people anywhere, they want a little love and a little attention. They're going to endear themselves to you and they're going to get on your nerves. They're going to carry around a rusty knife they found somewhere nearby and decide not to throw it away, even if that means no birthday cake. Kids, right?

Seriously, though. We have to remember our universality. There are young people all over whose circumstances make them a little less likely to fulfill their promise than they deserve. When you get a chance, even if it's a brief one, even if it seems to you insignificant, to do something to help a child, take advantage of it. Though I am not quite used to the whole cheek kissing thing down here, there was one little girl who came into the comedor (in this case, basically this means soup kitchen) and made sure to kiss each volunteer. She really was a sweet, pretty little girl not much older than my niece Jeighlyn. I hope that the work we're doing increases the chance that I can visit BsAs in 10 years and find that that little girl, and kids like her, are off doing something great. I'm starting to rant a bit (an occurrence you should come to expect), but remember that the young really are our greatest asset. If you have a pumpkin patch that you don't cultivate, Halloween is going to be pretty sad. If we don't properly cultivate our kids, from all over the world, this planet is going to be pretty sad.

Real Inaugural Post

Hey, reader(s). First off, I hope thing are going well and that they continue to go well for my classmates. We are from all over and currently based all over, but we are all working for the same purpose. Sure we want A's, but we want much more to do good work for the organizations for whom we are working and to do good work for those our organizations serve. Good luck, and I look forward to catching up on your emails and blogs. Now, to Argentina.

This will be the only "real" post I make before I start work tomorrow and I have just a few stray thoughts:

My host family (which also runs L.I.F.E.) seems pretty cool.

I think I would actually prefer to drive in Boston than Buenos Aires.

I kind of wish I had learned Portugese, because if my first night here was any indication, I am going to asked if I am from Brazil a lot.

For all you here about the ubiquity of Starbucks, they just opened their first store in BsAs Saturday. However, I have already spotted several McDonald's.

These folks really do love soccer. There were three consecutive sports channels with games on. It is kind of interesting that one sport really does seem to have a monopoly on people's sports concsiousness. Football might be king in the States, but baseball and basketball are at least decent pretenders. I am not yet sure what the #2 down here is. I think basketball is making a push, but it is going to be awhile before it (or whatever actually is in second place) to make a dent in soccer's armor.

I don't know is this is American self'-centeredness or just shortsightedness, but I had no idea that finding a transformador (converter) so I can use my comp would be such a chore.

Sunrise must be pretty late here, because it is around 7:30 and it is still dark out.

I need to get back to bed.