Orientation is finally over. Parts of it were helpful, but overall it was a phenomenal waste of time. Yesterday's "Workshop on the Youth of Argentina" was especially useless, although it did have some redeeming comic value. Some of the gems imparted to us clueless Americans are:
1) Don't be afraid of dancing with an Argentine boy in a club. It does not necessarily mean you're expected to have sex with him, marry him, and have his babies.
2) Don't be afraid of catcalls. They aren't always a prelude to a physical attack.
3) Don't be afraid of making friends with boys. Boys and girls can be friends! Even in Argentina!
4) Argentine women are just as independent as Argentine men. Some of them even have jobs and boyfriends at the same time!
5) Don't be afraid to say no to sex.
Apparently, Argentines think Americans are afraid of anything related to sex. Not that that assumption is entirely unfounded. But really. It was like a dumbed-down version of seventh-grade sex education with Ms. Knapp.
(By the way, Dad, this might not be an entry that you want to send to Grandma.)
Last night after the workshop FLACSO funded a "cultural outing" to a bar near the residencia for hands-on application of the lessons learned. I'm still not clear on the cultural aspects of lots of free beer, gross pizza and conversations in English with other Americans. But it was fun. And thanks to the workshop, I wasn't afraid to dance with Argentine boys.
I didn't dance with Argentine boys, but it was because I was playing flip cup with Americans, not because I was afraid.
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