Señora: Day 18.5

Best part of yesterday: sitting F and his (now my) friend J on a park bench at midnight or so, laughing myself silly at them and their shenanigans. Or maybe it was the whole fact that I had friends with whom to spend Friday night, period. Saturday morning, too, if you're being technical... :)

Worst part of yesterday: there were a couple sights and stories yesterday that made my heart cry out, and they certainly composed the worst part of the day. Read on!
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Yesterday, my first item of the day was Immigrations. I get up extra early--not gonna miss it. I walk, took the subte, walk, and eventually found it. I hop in line.
The man in front of me is from Bolivia, I gather. He's really kind and helpful; I thank God for putting kind people everywhere. When the door guard asks if I have my photos,  I say yes. Pull them out--oooh, they meant 4x4 cm, not inches. Why wouldn't they clarify? Why didn't I--it's my fault--I'll go to the subte and get little ones.
"Anna!" I hear. "I'll wait for you!" L calls to me in Spanish. Sweet. :)
Got the photos, made photocopies, fastwalk it back to Migraciones. There is L's mom at the door to the building. She rushes me inside, and shows me that L is at the head of the line, next to go up to the windows. I have friends in high places, it seems; or at least, in all the right ones.
First window, okay, you're set. Wait for the next. L and I wait in different buildings. I strike up another conversation--it's a lawyer this time. He's interested in the company I'll be working for, the fact that I'm from Chicago. Eventually his client's done, and I wait for "24" to appear on the screen.
I arise, check back to make sure I've grabbed it all, and head to the little cabina. Pull out all my documents and hope for the best.

Right off the bat, she tells me, "This background check doesn't cut it."


Okay,then. Few more weeks you've added to the time I can't work. Thank you, Government.
All my other documents, except one quick-fix issue, are in order. I finally get to leave.
At this point, I want to approach the company I will work for, and try the simplest option: working as an unpaid intern. I remember the Zs told me you get three months of living in Argentina without any formal process. And my flights line up to have arrived 13 September, and be leaving 12 December. Three months minus one day. Seems perfect to me!

But I'm not despairing. I'm not even worried. I just want to talk it out logically with my friends at the copmany on Monday--I know the Argentines (at least in the company) pretty well, now, and know that nothing except the worst of tragedies gets remedied on a Friday. Fine by me; it's just as well. I'd much rather get home, shower, and eat.

After doing the above, it was about one in the afternoon. I deem it naptime, but I have to call everyone to let them know what has happened (parents, Z parents, L from Immigrations, big bro F). Then I should take my laundry to the laundromat. Alright, NOW I sleep.
You know me, I cannot nap.
Pretty soon I was headed out to the villas again to help M with "Sonidos de Esperanza" (Sounds of Hope), the music class. Always a time of extremes: poverty, pain, glee, love, brokenness. See Bonus Blog.
I grab some facturas (sweet breads!) for the subte ride home. I think my favorites are the ones filled with dulce de leche. One of those, and one sort of like a croissant. Then I head to the station. See Bonus Blog.
I got home to have enough time to check in with family a tiny bit, get some veggies, and discover the laundromat to be closed. Hmmm. What on earth shall I wear tonight? We'll have to see.
Finding an outfit took a while, scrounging around in what was left to me. But I eventually find it. Then F comes to my apartment with his buddy J--they're both crazy--and we head for the concert. I'm shocked at how easily and fluidly the Spanish is slipping off my tongue now, even with the few tongue-twisted moments that make us all laugh.
We end up being early for the concert--a friend told the boys it started at eleven, but that's SO early for anything to be starting here. But she had insisted. So there we are, waiting around on a park bench outside the bar. Hungry. Watching the lights on the planetarium. Laughing. Hungry.
Thank goodness for the equivalent of hot dog stands. I had a "bondiola" (some kind of meat--the boys kept barking and telling me it came from my sandwich to tease me), same as F. J was insanely hungry, so he had both a choripan and a hamburger.
Eventually we met up with some more of their friends at a bar/restaurant at a really hoppin' plaza. We hang out, laugh, and watch as F and J throw peanuts.
We start walking home, and that is really fun. One by one, though, we drop each other off at bus stops.
In the end, F and I walk back to my apartment, talking. I assure him I had fun tonight with all his friends, and yawn. I decide he's the substitute for the older brother I never got to have. Hopefully he continues to be okay with that. :) (He'll read this, too, because his English is fabulous.)

Home. Late, or rather, early. Make some tea, have a spoonful of dulce de leche, make sure everybody's safely in for the night, go to sleep.