Back in big bad BA

So goodbye Braz…hello real life in Buenos Aires. Haha, yeah right…“real life“..who am I kidding…I’m in play land righ now…but even in play land one must some how make a living… Soooooo folks, im delighted to inform you all that you are now looking at the g-darn cutest engish teacher this side of the Rio Plata. Yes, the rumors are true...I landed a solid job as an English teacher for snooty business men. how i managed to pull it off is beyond me, having no previous experiance...BUT embelishing a tad on the ol´ resume and talking like you know what the fuck you´re talking about apparently is enough to make a career out of nothing. No complaints here. I had my very first class yesterday and my client liked me so much that his report back to my boss landed me another client.

Anyhoo, teaching is fun and soooo ridiculously easy. I basically get paid to sit in a fancy office, sip on a latte, and have a converstation for two hours...and I´m 40 pesos richer...just like that. I almost feel bad...buuuuuuut not that bad. Hopefully I will aquire more students in the near future and I´ll be realin in the big dough. Yeeeeeeeeah.

Bye bye Braz...you kept it real

The last night we were there we had to do it big, so after a samba show and two trendy/way overpriced night clubs we put on or b-suits and hit the beach at 5 am to watch the sunrise with some local buddies. The water was colder than a witches niple, but it was waaaaaaaaaay worth it. Just peep the pics and you’ll see what I'm talkin' abooooot...

Well hello 2009...how you doin'?

New Years eve can most easily and accurately be described as pure debauchery. It is a well known Brazilian tradition to wear white on New Years. It signifies rebirth as we gracefully transition into a new year. Others may choose to wear yellow for money, pink for love, or red for passion. I was tempted to throw on a red regalia, but I thought the color might clash with my sunburned forehead…so white it was! Our night began with a warm up at the house…you know a few capirinhas…a little dancing…the usual.

Then we rendezvoused with Jano at a friends house near by to do a little pre-gamin’ before we unleashed ourselves onto the packed beach party celebration. The host of party surely must have been playing a cruel and devious joke on the attendees due to the fact that she whipped up one of the most potent garlic spreads in the history of party snacks and served it up generously to all the guests. By the time we arrived at the party it was garlic breath city and there was no turning back. You could imagine the look on my face when one of the garlic eaters proposed that everyone kiss on the lips after the countdown…I pretended I didn’t hear.

We spent the rest of the night dunk stumbling around the beach that was packed with over a million people. I won’t say who, but someone accidentally gave my wallet as a peace offering to the ocean…goodbye wallet, you were all that I hoped you would be…tear. Anyhoo, I topped off the night by praying to the porceline god for a good hour…and then when there was nothing left to throw up I hobbled off to bed…and then of course...

...breakfast at 4pm the next day…we keep it classy folks.

Favella Fun...

Breno, being the fantastically social solialite and entertainer that he is, was alwasy having international buddies crash at the pad...sometimes for weeks at a time! First there was Fabio from San Paolo who spent of few lazy days with us guzzling Caphirinas in crappy cabanas on the beach. Then came Tom, a Berlin Native and international DJ super star. At first we thought our little Tommy boy was gay, then we realized that he’s just German. Anyhoo Tombo became our right hand man and we spent massive amounts of time with our new found friend.

One wild and crazy night we got dressed up all fancy style and headed out

to a samba club with Tom, but after befriending a welcoming local at the samba gig our plans quickly diverted onto another path and before we knew it we were relentlessly speeding down a dirt road in an unmarked ten-seater van on our way to a massive Brazilian funk party rager dead smack in the middle of a favella. This funk club was quite possibly the most insane venue I’ve ever laid eyes on. Picture a two story club chock full of half naked Brazilian men bumpin' and grindin' to the pounding rhythm of the funk that is the essence of Brazil.

At last I know where the world has been hiding its emergency stash of ridiculously good looking men, damn you world! Not to mention the lit up

stage fully equipped with a never ending booty shaking contest hosted by a gay transsexual named David Brazil. I never wanted to leave.

Jammin' in the name of Ferris

One night after a 4 hour stint in a Brazilian comedy club, non of which I could understand, we found ourselves with Bree’s entire family fully engaged in an all ages jam fest. Cousin Fernando, rockin' a pair of old trousers with two mismatched haviana sandals and a “SAVE FERRRIS” T-shirt, led us all with interpretive renditions of popular Beatles tunes.

It was Jamtastik indeed!

Clu-hu-hubbin...

The majority of our nights were spent following uber famoso DJ BRENO UNG around to all of his DJ gigs...

...all of which just so happened to be at gay clubs around Rio. The whole guys not into women thing was actually kind of nice because you don’t have to worry about sleazy men sleazing all over you, or do you??? I learned the hard way that “Gay” in Brazil means that they can vigorously make out with another guy right in front of your face…and then try to kiss unsuspecting foreign chicks on the lips right after…way to throw a curve ball. Occasionally we would bump into a lost tourist bewildered by the lack of women in the club. We had to break it to them gently.

A little game that I like to call "Name that Brazilian"

We had the pleasure of bumping into some familiar faces during our stay in Brazville…some of which you just might remember from earlier days at the hill…

Who could forget the Brazilian hunk of burning love sensation Breno who conquered not one, but two blonde Lonsdale sisters one hot and steamy summer…

And of course the one and only Jano from ten years back…making his mark on the Rochester school contingency as the sole nominee and proud winner of the coveted “hottie of the year” award 1999...

And last but most certaintly not least...the long lost cousin of some of Quarry Hill's most loyal members...ladies and gentlemen...I present to you...Sam Drougas

Christ-worthy view

And golleeeeeeeeeeee, the view fom the top sure was purrrrdy!!!

Thanks for the fab day JC, you were fantastic and it was holy shit load of fun : 0

J to the C

We also made some time to hit up the quintessential tourist traps. I mean c’mon…it’s Brazil…of course we had to pay good ol’ Christ a visit…it was only right. And Jesus was looking exceptionally well that day…

I’m not sure exactly what it was…I think he did something different with his hair. So we did what anyone would do in this situation…PHOTO SHOOT WITH J.C.!!!

YES!

YES!

NO!

NO!

NO!

Bree's Here Bitches!

Bree arrived the next day and we were off to the beach in minutes. Lucking for us gals, Lucia’s penthouse apartment was a mere block and a half away from the beach in Copa Copbobanaaaaaaaa…go ahead…sign the song…I know you’re itchin’ to…

Unfortunately for me and for anyone within a 10ft vecinity of me...that very same catchy yet miserably cheesy tune was on repeat in my head the entire trip…no actually not the entire time…it was a steady tradeoff between that song and the equally infectious tune “the girl from Ipenema”…die cheesy songs DIE!!!

From that point on the whole trip was a continuous blur of new and exciting experiences. Our days were spent sipping fresh coconut water and partially cooking ourselves on the glorious beach.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah the beach, I thought I’d died and gone to Speedo heaven. That place has got a culture entirely its own. You can get everything you could possible need on the beach from a g-string bikini, to a hair wrap, to a block of fried cheese on a stick, to a heavy dose of sexual harassment…and everything in between!

Meet the Fam

I got there on December 23rd and Bree was supposed to be arriving the next day, although do to unfortunate series of events and a travesty on behave of a continental airlines stewardess, she spent Christmas alone in a hotel room and I spent Christmas sitting around a table with a bunch of strangers speaking a language that I couldn’t even begin to understand. But I can say one thing, Bree’s family is a bunch of characters fo’ shizzle.

The Christmas festivities took place at the home of Uncle Milton, or Milty as I prefer. Milty is laid back homeopathic doctor, a ladies man for sure…bachelor for life with a great sense of humor and a love for Samba. You know a George-type character.

Then there was Mi Mi. The matriarch of the family. An absolute sweetheart, but with a quickly failing memory due to Alzheimer’s. She sat next to me at dinner. She kept asking me the same two questions over and over again all night long…where was I from and why didn’t I speak Portuguese. As you can imagine our conversations were somewhat limited, but mutually amicable just the same.

And then there was Lucia. Aaaaah Lucia. She’s the kind of bad ass woman that fought her way up from secretary to the CEO of a major company. The kind of woman that wears skin tight leopard print dresses to Christmas dinner, who’s fire red hair compliments her tattooed eyebrows, and who’s raspy voice vigorously cuts through the smoke rings continuously escaping from her parched lips. You know, the kind of woman who’s nipple makes surprise appearances at breakfast slyly popping out of her red lace teddy to say hello…just remember “maintain eye contact”.

But her every single one of them took me in no questions asked and treated me like I was part of the family. They were all such generous and giving people, I felt very lucky : )

BRAZILICIOUS

So my rendezvous plans to meet Bree in Brazil were beginning to materialize and after three grueling days at the Brazilian consulate and several attempts to purchase a plane ticket online, I finally put my manipulation skills to work and was on my way to Rio de Janeiro with just one short layover in Uruguay…no biggie.

I must say, RIO IS B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L! An impossible city…a tropical New York built on a glistening beach crevissed between lush green coated mountains. The people are abnormally attractive, the food couldn‘t be more fresh, and the partys never cease to rage on into the abyss. Even the language is enchanting…with a few unsuspected pronunciation twists. In portugues, R’s are pronounced like H’s an T’s are pronounced like CH’s. For example, Rio de Janeiro is pronounced “heeo Shaneho” and in this city my name is no longer Katie, but Kaychee. Kind of a funky twinge eh?? It’s growing on me.

Relocation

Soooooooooooooooooooooo I moved in with Max. Call me crazy, go ahead, I can take it. But economically speaking it’s a fantastic advancement. Trust me people, the only thing better than cheap rent is FREE rent!!! Yay!!! And more and more similarities between Max and I continue to unfold. He studied Political Science in school too and he is a foreign-a-file just like me!! He speaks perfect English never haven taken a class in his life…just from dating foreign chicks, clever eh??? He’s always saying phrases like, “Potato Potato” and “that’s how the cookie crumbles” and after spending a month in England a common Max response to various statement is “you reckon???”. He’s helping me with my Spanish and I’m helping his “cool” status at all of his DJ gigs by being his super hot American girlfriend.




I think that things are going to work out.

So now that the whole “place to live” thing is scratched off my listo, it’s time to focus on finding interesting things to do with my time. I started volunteering for a non-profit organization called Club Acorn. It’s a community center in a really bad part of town called La Boca that works with the local kids, teaching them English, art, cooking, yoga, and basically provides a safe and comfortable place for these kids to thrive and begin to understand their capabilities. The kids love me. It feels great. Aaaaaaaaaaand after the new year I will gracefully embark on my career as a travel writer working with the travel site South American Explorers. Super excited about that. And my search for a job teaching English continues…but I feel like I’m going to find something real soon…I can almost taste it. But before I can embark on that venture, I’m off to Brazil! The land of the beautiful! Where I will rendezvous with my good buddy Bells (Gabriela Da Silva Riley…known by many…loved by all). See you in 2009 suckaz!!!

Just say no to noquis!

So I’m looking for a new place to live. It’s been super being able to stay with my host mom and all, but it’s also kind of like having the overbearing invasive judgmental grandmother that I never had and better yet sure ain’t never want. So Tere, my soon to be ex-host mom, has some how got it into her head that she is going to single handedly take control over my life. She tells me when to get up in the morning, what to eat, and is constantly in my biznass yo. Now she’s started this new thing where she invites men in their forties (not that there’s anything wrong with that) over to the house and try’s to arrange for us to hang out. Oh god. It’s definitely getting to be a bit much. We had a major blow out the other morning due to the fact that she thought that it was completely unacceptable to eat noquis for breakfast. And by “had a blow out” I mean she screamed demands at me in Spanish while I sat at the table with my steaming freshly microwaved plate of noquis, ashamed. Apparently I missed the memo on the “no noquis for breakfast” rule in the house. Point being, I gotta get outta here asap!!! Which so eloquently transitions me into my next segment.


So I made a new friend the other night. His name is Max…well Maxamiliano to be exact, which is a Spanish-tastik twinge on the more popular American version Maxamillion. He’s a Scorpio like me and he just so happens to have a fabulous apartment right in Palermo, the hippest of the hipp neighborhoods in all of Buenos Aires. He says that I can stay with him as long as I want, which is an amazingly generous offer…but perhaps just until I find a more suitable place is a better idea.

Things that I had forgotten/purposefully blocked out

#1 Change, coins, monedas, whatever you care to call it is like gold here…you just cant get it. It’s a crazy phenomenon where the grocery stores will ask everyone in line behind you if they have change to give you if you don't have any, and if the subway booths don’t have any change the gates are opened and the rides are free for everyone...sometimes for entire days…and this is a regular occurrence!!! Apparently the whole coin circulation is controlled by the mafia or something. Eh go figure.

#2 It is socially acceptable for extremely old men of seemingly normal character to shout obscene remarks at you in the middle of the day on a busy street…and I still don't know the appropriate response. But what I do know is that if I never hear the words “muy linda” spitting out the mouth of a skeezy old man on my way to the grocery store again…oh trust me, it will be too soon. Also, you know when you like notice someone like staring at you and you look at them, and then they embarrassingly look away because they been caught being a social creepy creeperson??? Yeah well that doesn’t happen here, like ever. Nope! They just keep on starring back like they’ve got something to prove. Just embrace the social awkwardness people, cause it’s here to stay!!!

#3 The freakin’ dog walkers or “paseo de perros” if you wann be all Spanish about it and the freakin’ dog poop that layers the streets everywhere you go!


You can imagine how this situation might worsen in the blazing 97 degree summer heat. The only this more disgusting than a dog poop carpet is a hot steaming…you know what…I won’t even go there…some things are better left to the imagination.

Back in the Hood...

Being back here is so surreal. I’m living in the exact same room in the same house in the same neighborhood as I did two years ago.

Its interesting to see what’s changed and what’s stayed the same…you know visiting the neighborhood peeps and all my fave places. The boys at the locutorio (internet café) are still there and yes they sure do remember me…it’s just like the old days…whenever I come in, the room suddenly become a clamor of indecipherable whispers and giggles….mind you these are grown men.

But things have also changed. Dude, there is an F-ing star bucks right down the street!!! The only US chains that you could find before were McDonalds, Burger King, and the occasional TGI Fridays. I think its safe to say…there goes the neighborhood. Of course I had to see this “argentine version” of star bucks for investigative purposes…not because I had an overwhelming hankering for a iced soy chai latte with a shot of espresso…but I did get one…it was part of the social research. But this star bucks was so much like an American star bucks and consequently so not argentine. These Portenos sure do love star bucks though, golleee! The place has a constant line spilling out the door and jolly locals sit for hours joyfully sucking down their caramel mocha frappacino’s with whipped cream and extra chocolate syrup…ugh I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

Safe and Sound

So I made it down to the bottom of this continent safe and sound…just a little shaken up that’s all…yet another turbulence filled flight has perpetuated vivid flashbacks in my head of me straddling my plane seat clinging onto the arm rest for my pathetic little life.

I got to “my house” at like 4pm and after an overly dramatic welcoming from my former host mom, a quick nappy poo, and a snacktastic bite to eat I was ready to get into some trouble. So I linked up with my old partner in crime Chloe,

who recently returned to Buenos Aires too, and after dinner we found ourselves in a Boliche called Niceto completely submerged in the most insane fusion of counterculture I could possible fathom.

One half of the club was an Argentine drag show meets burning man/circus performance in the midst of a techno rave and in the other half of the club was a smoke filled cave of hipsters intently gyrating to a musical concoction of electronica over cumbia beats. My debilitating jetlag combined with the contrasting dichotomy of social scenes was too overwhelming, so I nestle myself on a beaten couch in the back corner of the smoky room and simply observed.

The emerging hipster scene in Argentina was a smorgasbord of just about every popular counter culture known to man. We had the hipsters with their thick rimmed glasses and fedoras bumping around…the 80’s street punks rocking the half shaven chemo cuts and studded attire, we had the wanna-be Rasta’s fully equipped with makeshift dreadlocks, mesh tank tops, sportin’ some serious B.O., and last but not least the quintessential argentines styled with the infamous “mull-hawk”…or so I’ve named it. The “mull-hawk” comes in many shapes and forms and is not to be confused with the mullet or the Mohawk…it sort of like if the two equally hideous hairstyles were to have an illegitimate child… consisting of a very serious business matter in the front and a raging Mohawk fiesta in the back. I tried to take a picture of one to share with you fine folks but I was turned down (side not…that rarely happens). But I think the guy felt bad for not letting me take his picture cause he offered me a sip of his warm half drunken Quilmes…Argentina’s local beer (comparable to horse urine). That one sip put me over the edge and at 5 am I called it a night…or morning…or whatever it is after traveling for over 24 hours and no longer possessing the capabilities to differentiate between day and night…not that it matters anymore anyway…aaaaaaaaaah life.

BUT WAIT!! I CAUGHT A MULLET ON THE WAY OUT!!!

AND ITS A BEAUT!!!

Turb-Tastic!

Alright so now I’m in Houston Texas…at the George W. Bush airport… how fitting for this expatriate fleeing the country, haha take that country! But at least I made it here…the last flight was…how should I put this… let’s just say it was less than pleasant. First of all they totally skimped me on my vegetarian meal so I was left with nothing more than a few bites of lettuce dowsed in ranch dressing and a fun size Twix…I kid you not people. Then to my despair we hit some major turbulence…it got so bad that the six year-old sitting across from me actually started screaming, “WE’RE GONNA DIE!!!”…I guess that’s one way to ease the tension. But I made it here safely…let’s hope I can say the same about this next ten hour flight.

Waiting Game

Soooooooooooooo folks, not too too much to report on yet. I'm just impatiently waiting for my flight from Boston to Houston and the boredom is grueling. I was planning on making all of my dramatic "goodbye" phone calls during the wait, but my cell battering is totally DEAD and of course I forgot my charger at the house...story of my life people.

Luckily I have my laptop handy and was able to hack into the Pilot's secret internet supply and do some emergency blogging. Now that that's done, I guess I'll take this opportunity to catch up on my sleazy magazines and maybe cruise the food court for some hotties. I'll touchdown with you mo' fo's in Houston, K-Town OUT!!!

IT STARTS...

Hello! And a very warm welcome to my loyal and dedicated fan base out there...you know who you are, wink wink. I promised to bring you all more titillating tales of my adventures into the unknown and boy do I plan to deliver.

As I sit in the Logan International Airport I am both physically and mentally preparing myself to embark on a new and glorious venture into the thriving social matrix of Buenos Aires Argentina, or what I like to call "EL SUR DEL SUR". It should be quite a journey folks, so stay tuned for life updates, fab photos, ridiculous videos, and embarrassing anecdotes (because there will be many) and most importantly stay privy on all the KK gossip...you know you love it!