As of late

There's so much to say. Where have I been, what have I been doing? I know you'd like to know, or you wouldn't be reading.

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How I wish I could Twitter every little inane thought that comes into my head and every strange happening that happens to me.

For instance, the other day, I read about the saying here, its free to dream or dreaming is free, or whatever. And then I halfway managed to execute the phrase with one of my housemates and he taught me to use it more better. Then yesterday, I bought a scratchpad to write on and I remarked to myself that to dream is free, but to write it down costs 5 and 1/2 pesos.

The last month or so has been so totally dedicated to finding a job and getting an apartment/place to stay. I like to think that I did good job exerting myself towards the goals, a commendable effort when its so difficult to chart progress. I often thought or writing a blog post solely about doing these things in Buenos Aires. I guess you're looking at the paragraph that that has become. Anyway, lonely wanderer of the internet, here is how to find a cheap place to stay in Argentina.

Forget Craigslist. Americans use Craiglist, and Argentines know it. The only things you'll find on Craigslist are those some hopeful Argentine has put up thinking that some rich Yankee will overpay for. Use American resources and you'll get booted onto the merry-go-round of Argentine for export. And let me tell you that Argentines don't pay those prices.

Don't expect Couchsurfing or anything the like to be a whole lot better. Yeah, that website is supposed to be about people helping each other out, but the fact is Argentines in tight financial situations often rent out a room in their house to get some breathing room. Having little idea how to do this, the ask their friends and someone says, hey why not this website couch surfing, and they open a profile pretty much for the purpose of getting someone to help pay their rent (probably more than 50%, I'm betting).

This is how it works in Buenos Aires, and this is why you're screwed: people ask their friends to help them find a place to stay. That's how everything works in Buenos Aires. This town is more italian than spaghetti. You need the friend of a friend of somebody's uncle's mechanic who knows a guy who knows a guy that's renting out an apartment. And even, that doesn't guarantee you a good deal, it just admits the possibility of a good deal, which Craigslist can not do.

But here's an example of just how necessary it is to know somebody. One day I go to the real estate office and ring the bell. A lady comes to the barred door and asks me what I want. I tell her that I'm looking for a temporary rentals (that's less than than two years, the standard Argentine contract) she says that don't have any and I get the sense that the conversation is supposed to be done. I ask if she knows anyone that might have such a rental and she says that she wouldn't know in this neighborhood. I then took my leave.

Then after some beer-assisted schmoozing in my friendly neighborhood machine shop, I'm directed to the wife of a retired guy that sometimes comes around to drink beer. I see her and there occurs one of those magical spanish conversations where I seem to understand all of the words but really come away with nothing from the conversation. Except, better than nothing, she tells me of a real estate agency where she knows someone and where the might have temporary rentals. She writes down the name Alba, her name, on a scrap of paper along with the address of someplace she thinks they might rent me.

I follow her vague directions and wind up at, guess what, the same real estate agency I had been at but a few days ago. I ring, the some women answers in the same way, behind the barred door and I read off my scrap "Uh... I was sent by a women named Alba. She s-"

"OH! Alba! Yes! Come in! Come in!" And this lady proceeds to actually do what a real estate agenct is supposed to do. Show me real estate. I managed to communicate to her in her flurry of helpfulness that actually I'm looking for a temporary rental and that maybe this place that Alba had suggested to me might be available. The real estate agent says unfortunately they just rented that place and that I should check out some of the two year rentals cause "Hey, things can be arranged". A few days go by and she calls my on my cell phone and lets me know of a "couple" looking for someone to live with them. I check it out and its an actual house (almost, duplex) with beautiful furnishing and all. My own, somewhat large private room with my own bathroom and carte blanche from the owners to have my girlfriend over and generally have my run of the house. (Incidentally, the couple is a gay one as he quickly informed me at the beginning of the house checking out process). And all that for a mere 1000 pesos. 250 murkan dollars. For how nice that house was, its a very good price.

For the record, there do exist actual independent housings for that price. I saw one studio apartment for 800 pesos plus some expenses that would make it nearly 1000 pesos. It was a small square with a bathroom and one window which pointed to inside the building, a "courtyard" view. That is to say the column of air that was built into the design so that the residents wouldn't suffocate. It also came with a fridge and oven. I would have taken it, had it not required a two year contract and a "garantia". (Some property owner vouches for you. If you don't pay, they do.)

Anyway, nowadays I'm paying 900 pesos for a little concrete box on a roof of what used to be a mansion for the living of an extended family. What I do like about my situation is that I can practice trombone and not bother anyone, that the facilities of the house are good (kitchen, etc) and that its populated exclusively by other bohemians, not the owners. I dislike sharing a house with someone who is renting a space out to me. (What's with that vibe? "I will rent you this room and let you use my kitchen." C'mon, really?) Oh, and finally, that its 225 murka dollars a month.

What I do not like about my living situation is that the concrete box turns into a solar oven around 2 pm, the highway is nicely audible 24/7 and that one of the residents of the house is guitar banging rock and roller with stamina matched only by an out-of-tune Apollo with highly accented English.

I am tired now. I go to bed. Maybe next time I talk about employment.