Memories of Buenos Aires

by Lisi Mauch

“Mi Buenos Aires querido…” or “My dear Buenos Aires” – this beautiful and well known song – is the first thing that appears immediately in my mind when I think about Buenos Aires, the place where I was born. I could have never imagined how difficult it would be for me to leave Argentina, my country. In fact, this last year has been a year of many mixed feelings. On one hand, my husband and I were pursuing a better life to raise a family. In fact, the United States offered a wide range of jobs as well as economic stability and security. On the other hand, after we landed in the U.S., I started to miss not only my family and friends, but also some particular things of Buenos Aires that I had never thought about until I missed them. For instance, my long walks through the city everyday appreciating the European structure of many buildings, the long Corrientes Avenue illuminated in the night for all the most important theaters of the city, and the smell of coffee escaping from the coffee shops in the mornings where people are reading newspapers and having breakfast. I miss walking down the pedestrian street and stopping to watch a couple dancing Tango for the tourists who take pictures. Tango is our national dance and a style of music known worldwide. I also miss the classic Teatro Colon or Colon Theatre, an opera house where many of the most beautiful orchestra and musical performances have been played. However, the most important and even most difficult part of being far away from Argentina is to be away from my people. My close friends and our times together drinking mate. I long to share stories of our lives, dreams, goals, achievements and frustrations. My family, and those Sundays when we were together having lunch and eating “asado,” “grilled meat.” Furthermore, I used to spend some time with my nephews and nieces playing with them and having a good time.
The irony is that, as many people who left their own countries have said, “We generally do not appreciate the things we have until we miss them,” I started to feel now more Argentine than ever.

Things Happen For a Reason

by Lisi Mauch

When I was a child, I used to hear my mother say, “Things happen for a reason.” Through the years, I grew up and experienced different situations that taught, helped, and guided me in life. Even when things did not turn out as expected, I learned something.
I remember once, when I was eleven, my father sent me to buy bread. I was walking to the bakery when I heard noises coming from a wooden box underneath a beautiful, purple, blooming Jacaranda tree. Curious, I went over to see what it was. In spite of something else my mother always said “do not touch anything weird!” I opened it. A frightened green iguana appeared on the edge. Poor little creature! It was staring at me and I could feel its fear. What a coincidence! A week before, I had been watching a documentary program about different kinds of tropical animals. The iguana was one of them. I looked at it and realized that the iguana had tied on its left leg a little piece of paper. I sat down on the sidewalk and took the paper.
Suddenly, a cold breeze ran through my entire body. The paper was old and the blurred letters were hard to read. “Don’t be afraid of thunder, lightning or shadows in the night. They’ll go in the twinkling of an eye. Enjoy every single day, make each day special. The best things are coming.” I took the box and ran directly to my house to show my parents my new friend. When I opened it, nothing was there! I cried because I couldn’t understand what could have happened to my recent friend. After a while, I recalled my mother’s words, “Things happen for a reason.” Actually, something magical happened that day.
That night, my little brother Alejandro, asked me to read him a book, but I decided to make up a story instead. As I began it, a lightning bolt crossed the porch and thunder made me jump from my brother’s bed. Something had happened! We ran through the kitchen straight to the porch. Flabbergasted, my brother and I could not believe what we were seeing. The Jacaranda tree was in the middle of the backyard and underneath it, the wooden box. Suddenly, the box opened and the iguana appeared. My little brother and I could not move when the iguana came to us. “Don’t be afraid. My name is Arturo and I want to play with you!” While its long tail moved from one side to the other, each branch of the Jacaranda tree turned magically into a different thing, a space shuttle, a roller coaster, a fun house, and a huge carousel. In a few seconds, the backyard became an amusement park.
That night was the most beautiful, unforgettable and funniest moment we had. Alejandro and I played and enjoyed every minute of the most remarkable time of our lives. We played until we fell asleep. The next morning, when we woke up, neither the Jacaranda tree nor the iguana was there, only my brother and I.
For many years, Alejandro and I decided not to tell anybody about that night because we knew that no one neither our parents nor our friends would believe what happened. But one day, while I was looking for a family picture for school in my mother’s drawer, I saw a drawing. There was a purple, blooming Jacaranda tree with a box underneath. But in the middle of the drawing there were two people. A girl and a boy were holding hands. My parents!
I was twelve years old the day I found my mother’s drawing and I learned that it doesn’t matter how old you are, you can keep alive an experience, a story, or a dream. Even being old we never have to give up the child we have inside. I understand now what my mother really meant when she said “things happen for a reason.” After that magical night, I stopped being afraid of lightning, thunder and shadows. Although magic iguanas and Jacaranda trees only exist in the minds of children, they allow my brother and me to dream together. Since that night we created an unconditional bond as well as my parents has that can never be taken away.

Soccer: Passion of Many

by Lisi Mauch

The favorite sport in Argentina is soccer. In fact, there are many soccer teams and an infinite number of fans for each of them. It is curious how important soccer can be for many people, men and women alike. Some fans can spend hours arguing why their soccer team is the best, why a player did some move, why the coach should or should not be removed from his position or why their favorite team lost the last cup.
Traditionally, the Sunday is a soccer day and thousands of families sit in their living rooms watching a game, whether or not it is their favorite team. Before Sunday, families, friends or co-workers arrange where and when to meet. The ritual starts at lunch, between salami, cheese, bread, and a bottle of beer or a cup of red wine. They start talking about soccer and making predictions about the next soccer game they are going to watch. At dessert time, the most fans settle in the “V.I.P zone,” nearest the TV, watching the pre-game show. Usually, at mate* time, at 4pm or 5pm, the game starts. Some soccer fans are too superstitious, so they wear the same clothes from the last game they won, others prefer to watch it standing up or holding something for good luck such as a crucifix or an amulet. Curiously, they can change their manner of talking and moving. For instance, they yell, curse the opposite team, stand up and sit down again from their chairs, or hold their heads with both hands when the opposite team did a score or when one players of their team made a mistake in the field. At the end of the game, if their team won, they go out and celebrate, but if it lost, they prefer to stay at home and argue the whys.
As a consequence of this fanaticism for soccer, in the last few years, the merchandising of goods has increased considerably. For instance, there are many stores and also people with stands on the streets selling T-shirts, shorts, hats, bugles, flags, wigs and makeup with the colors of each team. Although some people would disagree with me, soccer gives a space for creativity. In fact, numerous songs have been written and also some walls display how artists can be soccer fans. Graffiti related to soccer can be found around the city. Most of them are in areas closer to the stadium.

Finally, some people who don’t have any idea about soccer can talk about it and sound like experts. If not, ask me.

*Mate: is the national drink of Argentina. The Yerba Mate is a green dried leaf, it is a kind of tea that you can find in the international food section of specialty supermarket such as HEB.

Hard It Is

Hard It Is
By M. Gabriela Delgado.

Hard it is
To live in a foreign country
Many new things
Laws, culture, language…

Hard it is
Sometimes life in our own countries
MONOTONY LIVE
Dream a new life
Corruption, poverty, are some of our nightmare

Hard it is
To accept the new life
Respect and leave the old one behind

Hard it is
To know yourself better
Recognize your mistakes
Confront the consequences of your acts
Accept your feelings

Hard it is
LIFE
But in the end we love our life
And it doesn’t matter how hard it is
We learn to accept, respect, enjoy and love it.