how fitting, my departure

Okay, just to clear things up.

1. Tori left in December. She is still gone. Tierra Santa is a distant memory that I wanted to re-live, with you.

2. Victoria is the girlfriend of my friend Shaun. They are from Philly but live in Buenos Aires. She is an amazing cook and the most grateful host and I think I like her better than Shaun.

3. My parents are here. More on this when I get some perspective.

And now, the actual post..

Two weeks before leaving, I started pumping my boss for my paycheck. "You know, Tincho, I still don't have access to my money. I really need this cash to get to BA to meet my parents. Can you please pay me or at least give me a generous advance so that I can, you know, eat?"

"Oh yes, of course, Francesca. If your last day is on Saturday the 27th, then for sure we can pay you on the 26th."

Still, my Spanish is not perfect but I'm pretty sure I didn't misunderstand. Mainly because he said it in English.

I showed up on the 26th, early, to meet Cristina. (We have since ceased Spanish/English lessons because we became friends and now we just gossip rapidly in a messed-up mix. Honestly, it's like therapy.) Having showed up 2 hours ahead of time, I figure I can get my check just to be sure and cash it on Monday before I leave. What, Monday is a holiday? Banks aren't open. Okay, good thing I came early, I guess I should cash it now since the banks close at 6pm and are closed all weekend. Where's Tincho? Buenos Aires? What the fuck? Did he leave me check? No? Where. is. it?

Fede, the boss is there and tells me that Silvina has it. Where's Silvina? At the other hostel. Should I go? I can drive you. I'd rather walk, I need control. At this point I am pretty salty, stomping all over the hostel and have serious "cara de culo." Literally translated, this means "ass face," which I think is pretty hilarious because we never say that in English and here, it's so common too call someone a sourpuss. Not to get to graphic, but I think the pursed lips are supposed to be the asshole.

Anyway, Cristina being the wonderful, supportive friend that she is, accompanies me to the office where of course, no one is. I'm pacing back and forth, wondering whether I should go to the other hostel to track down Silvina, keeper of all the money. Then I realize that I don't have my passport so how am I going to cash this check anyway. Shit, shit, shit. Cristina tells me to calm down, relax, sit and wait. By this time, it's 5pm. My time and options are quickly slipping away. Relax? Are you fucking kidding me?! Then Carlos, a director, happens to walk by. Cristina chases after him down the street. Oh yeah, you're paycheck's right upstairs and there's no name on it, so you won't have any trouble cashing it. It's that simple, why are you so worked up about it?

Oh I don't know, let me count the reasons. Most importantly, this all happened totally by chance. What if I didn't show up 2 hours early? What if Fede wasn't there? What if Carlos hadn't happened to be walking the by a hour before the banks closed?

I finally did get it cashed, without any further incident, but no one could understand my cara de culo. To them nothing was wrong, it was solved. This whole experience was very Uruguayan and made me ache for the prompt paychecks of the states, effectively making my departure the slightest bit easier. Also the fact that I knew I was returning in a week with my parents for the real goodbye.

tierra santa

Below are photos of Tierra Santa and it's in Buenos Aires. We read about this magical place in Lonely Planet and the description "the world's only religious-themed amusement park" intrigued us. Neither of us are religious, which will become more and more obvious as this post goes on. In fact, before I came here, my mom told me I should be careful with my indifference towards God considering 95% of this continent is Catholic. I knew that but it was confirmed when I found the "Jesus pier" in Montevideo where every piece of graffiti is Jesus/God related. Too bad my camera was taken before I could grab some shots of that. Anyway, please enjoy these photos below and stop reading if you are easily offended.

The entrance. Tori is the knight.

When you first go in, there are plaster sculptures of stories from the bible. This is Adam & Eve and the precise point where I lost it.

The light show. Everyone is very serious and quiet. I peed my pants.

A good over-all view of what the place looks like, plastic palm trees and all.

This is me. With black hands.

These women asked us to take a photo of them with their camera. Luckily, Tori got one with hers as well. The one in the pink reminds me of my grandma.

Tigre, BA, Colonia, Montevideo, BA again, Asunción, La Paz, Trinidad & Tobago, Grenada, Ft. Lauderdale, Detroit, Philly!!

Just so you can keep up, these are the travel plans-

Tigre - a river town in Argentina 45 minutes north of Buenos Aires, where I will meet my girl Victoria for a night until we head down to

BsAs!!! - I am so jazzed to go back to this city as I could not get enough last time I was there. It's definitely going to be different without Tori but I'm still expecting many good meals and sunrises. This is also where I will meet Mom and Steve who are coming down here on the 5th of March.

Colonia - a quaint little Uruguayan town on the way to Monty-V

Montevideo - to show them how I lived (beer bottle depository, food stamp office, free clinic, beach)

BsAs - to hang out a little bit more until I take a very long bus to

Asunción - the capital of Paraguay where I will see my first South American friends Diana and Nati! Fun fact - the unnecessarily long, actual name of this city is "La Muy Noble y Leal Ciudad de Nuestra Señora Santa María de la Asunción."

La Paz - to meet Josh and do the Camino de la Muerte (death road), a 40mile downhill bike ride on a skinny, half-unpaved road from the highest city in South America into the Amazon

Trinidad & Tobago, Grenada - two weeks in paradise for a wedding of someone I've never met

Ft. Lauderdale - to visit my dad and various other family members who reside in and around Ft. Lauderdale proper

Detroit - just a layover on my way back to Philly, but it sounds pretty bad ass, huh? although, now that I think about it, I don't think it can compare with Colombia

Philly!!!!!!! - April 22, I come home to no job, no money, no place to live but I couldn't be happier

doing stuff

I'm on my ninth consecutive day of twelve in a row at the hostel and I'm tired. My eyes hurt. Last night when I was falling asleep behind the bar, my lovely boss told me to go home. And I get to leave early tonight, too. This is my own fault for taking two days off last week, but Punta del Diablo was worth it.

In other exciting news, I went to the Paraguayan embassy today. Paraguay is one of those countries down here that acts in exact accordance with what the U.S. makes their citizens do to enter in our country. What that means for me is that I have to get a visa that costs $65, proof of entering and leaving Paraguay, 2 passport-ready photos, a letter from my friend saying that I will be visiting and staying with her and since I don't have a credit card (an essential), I will have to sit down and have a formal interview. Then, if all is in order after 24 hours, I will be permitted to enter Paraguay for 4 days. Well, I can technically stay longer, but such is the duration of my trip. Hopefully this all works out because I have a flight that leaves from Asunción to La Paz on March 20 and I know Josh will probably freak out if I leave him alone too long in Bolivia.

Along with this unbelievably annoying process, I am also applying for a new license so that I can rent a car when I get to Florida. This involves filling out a certain application, then getting said application notarized (still working on explaining that concept in Spanish), sending app to mother, mother going to DMV, mother sending new license to father y ya está. Thanks for the help, mom.

In total I have about a week and a half left in good ol' Monty-V to be spent running around and getting things in order, saying goodbye to all 5 of my friends, packing and planning. I will return briefly in March with Mom and Steve in tow, which will be fun. I'm looking forward to showing them the little life I've built here and also to eating in all the restaurants that I've wanted to try.

It is going to be hard to leave my South American home base, the only other place I've lived outside of the southeast corner of Pennsylvania, but I'll save the sentimentality for a later post when my departure seems more real.

my paycheck

**Please keep in mind that all monetary units are in Pesos Uruguayos. The current exchange rate is 20 pesos to $1 US dollar. To help those that are as mathematically challenged as I am - $1,000 pesos = $50 dollars.

base monthly salary - $6,200

+ commission (negligible percentage of bar sales) - $315

+ extra commission (given to me because my commissions were less than negligible) - $1,000

+ hostelworld mentions ("Francesca makes the best caiprioskas in town") - $200

= $7,715

- two advances of $1,500 each

- an advance of $2,000 taken out as a personal loan from my boss so I could go to the beach this past weekend, which still wasn't enough. (Thank you Victoria and Michal, I owe you dinner back in Philly for sure. Shaun, you can come, too.)

- $2,400 in back rent that I owed (Thank you Emily and Andrea for being so understanding.)

= $315

and just to put that into perspective for you - I bought a 120mL bottle contact solution last weekend that set me back $340 pesos!

I'm not complaining. Really. I'm actually getting a kick out of it. A good life lesson, too. I'm continually impressed by the kindness of strangers and my friends. A beer here, an empanada there, communal dinners at the hostel. Life is simple. A popsicle or a cold coca cola is a major treat. Two months of this is nothing - an accident, an experiment, a wake-up call. What really gets me is that there are plenty of people who are actually living off of this. I don't understand how those making a typical Uruguayan salary are able to travel, buy a car, feed a family.

I feel really fortunate.

excuse me miss?

These are actually questions that I have been asked while working at the hostel.

1. Do you know where we can get something to smoke? (No, but others have had luck asking a random person on the street.)

2. Will we get in trouble if we smoke that here? (There's a terrace, don't let me see you go up there.)

3. Can we eat the bread that's sitting on top of the refrigerator? (Not mine.)

4. Are you really going to confiscate our alcohol that we bring in from outside? (No, as long as you pour me a glass and save me the bottle.)

5. Do you speak English? Un poquito? (Sí, better than I speak Spanish actually.)

6. Why is you English so good? So you're not Uruguyan? Why are you here? How long? How'd you get the job? You don't live in the hostel? Where are you from? When are you going back? (In answering these questions, I sound like a robot in both English and Spanish. I really need to think of a new story to keep things exciting like I'm in hiding with a Columbian drug lord or my parents kicked me out and I hitchhiked all the way down here. Maybe I was captured and sold into white slavery, and they're forcing me to bartend for pennies.)

7. Why isn't the shower working? (Because we're in South America, where that occasionally happens.)

8. Can I stay in a dorm where there's not a lot of people? (Um, no because this is a hostel so it's impossible to predict what might happen.) This guy was later found naked, laying on beds in three different rooms by Martin.

9. Is there an egg cup that I can use? (What's an egg cup?)

10. Do you have a South American boyfriend? (This answer really depends on who is asking the question.)

I love you Uruguay!!!!

the courtyard where I spend the majority of my time

Working in a hostel is pretty much the greatest job ever. It's a built-in social life that I don't even really need a cell phone for. I get to meet people all the time and usually we make plans to hang out during the day too, since they're on vacation and pretty much so I am I. Everyone has been really cool and extremely generous and it makes me feel so great to have people here. A run-down -

The Brazilians - The Brazilians are professors who were taking a class in Montevideo and stayed with us for an entire month. They actually arrived the very first day I started working and I thought they were terrifying because they came in Portuguese a-blazing asking for discounts and all this other stuff that I was not equipped to provide. But after a week or so, they became fixtures in the hostel, always sitting around and working during the afternoon, then by night trading their computers for cerveza that was never cold enough for them no matter how long it had been in the freezer. (They called Uruguay the country of warm beer.)

Then they started having their friends over once a week that were staying in other places and cooking massive pots of amazing food and feeding the entire hostel. Friday nights became this huge social event with the entire Brazilian population converging at El Viajero. By the end, I was literally beginning to understand Portuguese to the point where I thought I'd master it before Spanish. On Friday, their very last night, they called me into their room with promises of a gift which I thought was going to be some contraband Brazilian beer that they kept in a cooler in their room. This time, on top of the beer and the delicious chicken and rice that they cooked especially for me, they had also bought me clothes! A tank top and a pair of shorts the colors of the Brazilian flag that I love. I was overwhelmed with their kindness. After that, we sat down and had dinner together and everyone gave me their contact information for when, in their words, I go back to Brazil I will have places to stay, food, free Portuguese lessons and a husband should I wish to marry. They were by far my favorite guests and already, it's not the same without them...

Jamie - Jamie is a hippie with a big bushy beard who bears a striking resemblance in both appearance and personality to my friend Matty. He's from California, but has been working on South American cruise-ships as a musician for the past 3 years and as he will be the first to tell you, it sounds way more glamourous than it actually is. Still, I'm fascinated.

Besides my roommates, I haven't met many people from the United States here, so it's oddly familiar to talk about stuff from home and have someone know exactly what I'm referring to. Yesterday, after meeting some of Jamie's friends who were in Montevideo for the 4 short hours their boat was docked, we went to Plaza Independencia with intentions of napping. Instead, we laid on our backs, staring at the clouds and reminisced about food from home.

I started with something like, "You know what would be great right now? An iced coffee."

"They don't have that here?"

"If they do it has ice cream in it and it costs $7 and it's definitely not available for take-out."

"I could go for some Chinese food."

"Yeah, or Mexican food. Or anything spicy, goddamn Uruguayans and their intolerance for for anything hotter than table pepper."

"Meatball sub."

"Italian hoagie."

"Real pizza."

"Can I please just dip my entire hand into a jar of peanut butter?"

I really don't get homesick here too often, but this was bad. And sorry family and friends, but yesterday was all about Distrito, the hand-drawn noodle house and Wawa.

My co-workers - Obviously, you already know about Cristina, my langauge exchange partner. There's also Georgina who is young and adorable and dramatic. She laughs at me all the time for my Spanish and her favorite joke is that I no matter what someone says to me, my response is always, "Sí, gracias!!"

Fati is the maintenance guy who works like 10-hour days so he's always around. We drink mate together every day and on Saturdays, he cooks asado for the hostel and makes me extra chorizo.

Martin, pronounced Mar-teen, has been mentioned before in previous posts. He's cute and I think that's all you need to know.

Tincho is my boss and he calls me Fran which I hate and he knows it. When we have meetings about the bar, he speaks to me in Spanish and I speak to him in English because we're both lazy.

Martin & Georgina

There's many others like Guido, an adorable, mild-mannered Argentinian who stayed for a week-and-a-half for a summer class. At first, I ordered him to speak to me in Spanish. Later on, though, I heard him use the word "dispute" and I realized how good his English was. From then on, it was English all the way. There was Oliver, a Canadian who's living in Buenos Aires for the time being but has also lived in Korea and is going home to the Cayman Islands in a few weeks. And Carlos, a Uruguyan who lived in Wisconsin, was with me when I got robbed and bought me a rose when I was in tears on the sidewalk.

The list could go on and on and the grand majority of the people are absolutely fantastic. Even the ones that aren't so great can be pretty funny to get to know, like Jim, a Scot who had lived in Australia for 27 years. He liked to stand up and lecture, essentially holding court in the middle of the patio for anyone who would listen. He interrupted people and hung out behind my bar giving Martin glass after glass of wine, while standing directly in my way and never offering me a drop.

Sometimes I'm tired, sometimes it's hard to leave the beach, but always I am happy to get to my low-stress, highly entertaining job. It's "buena onda," good vibes. There's music, beer, food and a constant flow of interesting people. And as all of you know, I may not be making any cash, but am sure am having a hell of a time.