Saturday night I went out with a couple of cool Americans from the hostel, Kyle, from Seattle, and Michael, from Houston. After dinner, we went to a palacial mansion converted into a bar called "Million." It was a building squeezed in between others, like all of the buildings downtown here, but was clearly once a singular residence with 3 floors and built in a classical European style with huge staircases.
The next morning, after sleeping in and checking out of the hostel, I went to the local Catholic church in San Telmo for services. Until then, I hadn't been to church my whole time in South America. Even though there was plenty of standing, sitting, and repeating of creeds that I didn't know (much less in Spanish), it felt good to be in a house of God.
Later that day I contacted the lady whose home I will be living in for the rest of my time in Buenos Aires. Señora Sabato lives in a neighborhood called "Congresso," because it is near Argentina's national parliament building. The street she lives on is lined with business on the bottom floors but has many doorways that lead to private residences on the 2nd, 3rd and additional floors. Her entrance was no different and she led me up to her apartment. The Sra. is a very nice and motherly woman who is in her 60's and has grown children. She doesn't speak any English, but has hosted students from all over the world for years. After setting my things in the private room with a bathroom, we had dinner along with the other two students staying in her home. She baked a delicious torta made of cheese, egg and ham... I think she could have had a career as a chef if she wanted it.
After dinner, I explained to the Sra. the importance and significance of Super Bowl Sunday, and apologized for having to leave so quickly. It was 8:30pm when I rushed to an American sports bar in the Recoleta neighborhood where I was supposed to meet a group of friends for the game. Fortunately I found one of them, but not the whole group, but I was there in time for the start of the game.
After laboring to avoid all things overtly or stereotypically American for the past 2 and 1/2 weeks, it felt good to be part of a group of loud, rowdy Americans on Super Bowl Sunday. After all, it is an unofficial national holiday, where people either host or attend parties with family and friends, whether or not they care about the actual game.
As the game began, I felt a surprising welling of pride when former Presidents Clinton and Bush walked out onto the field together, united. And I also experienced an unexpected wave of emotion when I and the other hundred ex-pats joined in singing the national anthem and recognizing our men and women serving overseas. For this time, date, and place, nothing was more important than being American.
And with that, a great Super Bowl contest began, ending with the narrow and unfortunate loss of the Philadelphia Eagles. I do not reluctantly tip my hat to the Patriots however, they have clearly established themselves as the pre-eminent football team of this yet unnamed decade.
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