Y Dale Bo, Y Dale Dale BOCA.

I am on such an Argentina-high right now. I felt I must post ASAP. Can words even begin to describe how amazing I felt today, being a part of the hinchada de Boca?! I’ll give it a try.

Sorry, but en general… I love my life. I go to NYU and study what I love. I’m studying in Buenos-freakin-Aires for four months (we’re at the mid-point OMG). I’ve met the best people here, NYU-ers and Porteños and extranjeros alike. I’m traveling to Patagonia with some awesome gomías next week. I WENT TO THE SUPERCLÁSICO AND WAS ON THE SIDE OF THE WINNING TEAM. Which was nuckin’ futs. I’m so tan I should check “African-American” on my forms. I live right by Plaza Serrano, aka the coolest locale for a young hip kid 20-year-old ADULT like myself. My mom is awesome and so selfless. I have some great people in my life, new and old. I know I whine about quite a bit, but wow am I so grateful for everything and the path my life has lead up to this point. I’m glad my life is so much more than one city/college/country. Not like I’m any better than anyone else–obviously I’m not, if you know me– but I wish everyone got to experience an ounce (day) of life outside their own tiny bubbles of ignorant-Americana. There’s a bigger world than the freaking place we live/are from (ahem, Tejas)– experience it, appreciate it, then you can go back to your small-town mundanities. Yes, I just made up a word. Call me pompous, call me arrogant. Maybe I’m the typical future ex-pat. Quien sabe. I appreciate being an American and having been born in the most powerful, semi-affluent nation, but given the cultures and personalities and vivacity I’ve seen elsewhere… (many other elsewheres, in my travels), I’ve had enough of the States for now. I’m ready to branch out.

Okay, game time.

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Americans will never be as passionate about anything like the Argentines are. Speaking from experience. You get thrills and chills from football games and sports matches, Obama winning presidency and passing the health care reform, American Idol winners and seeing Avatar for the bajillionth time. None of that compares to how the Argentines are about politics en general, the desaparecidos and all that the Dirty War entailed (1976-1983, you MUST know about this if you give any ounce of a crap about human rights), economics, and especially fútbol. Wow. To you Americans that know nothing about Argentina/South America/fútbol as I knew nothing a year ago…

SUPERCLÁSICO:

(According to the Observer)

Boca Juniors, a former representative of the working class (los obreros) vs. River Plate, usually cherished by the more affluent people (named such for Rio de la Plata…but in English for some reason).

Buenos Aires has billions of soccer teams– not really, more like 20. But Boca and River are the most renown, simply because they are the Montagues and Capulets of BA, a city divided twice a year for this momentous and gigantic event. “…there is such passion for this match that it is unsurpassed anywhere in the world.”

I can’t expect you guys to understand the energy that was present there. Yes, american football games are super super crazy and bonkers and basketball, yadda yadda, and what about hockey/baseball/tennis/etc.? I’m 99% sure it does NOT compare. There’s some inexplicable sense of unity there, an unmeasurable amount of pride within the stadium, of both teams. When the game was going on, everyone was quiet. Not being rowdy and drunk and nuts and trying to make as much noise as possible. They concentrate on  their players as much as they want them to concentrate on winning. It’s not about the fans, but the players, the team, the game. And that’s just the beginning of what makes it so wonderful. I thought I felt like a part of a whole at GHS games. Those pale in comparison to this. I know you think I’m exaggerating, but I felt so… wow. Look through the pictures on facebook to just get a gander of the glory that took place today.

We left school at 11am to get there around 12pm. We got in line…and were RIGHT at the foot of La Bombonera, a big change from Sunday, when we were stuck at the butt of the line in the pouring rain for what seemed like ever. A few of us bought some awesome Boca flags, which were TEN PESOS EACH. Hello? $2.50 for a cool flag? I love this country.

WHY ARE WE SO COOL?

Oh, and Choripan (see above, in my hand). GOD IT’S SO GOOD AND DELICIOUS. QUE RICO.

We were literally some of the first (Boca) people in the stadium, around 1pm. Such an overwhelming sensation that I just stepped into something truly greater than me.

We waited for a while in sunny hotness…but it started getting unbearable. We all sat underneath the awning because River Plate folk were above us…and are notorious for pissing on the Boca hinchadas below. So we didn’t want to come home smelling like pee. Two hours later, the game began.

SOY DE BOCA (well, they are, at least)

P.S. I took a good 253 pictures and photos of the game. Call me trigger-happy, but I LOVE capturing amazingly memorable events like this. And something as epic as the Superclasico…well I would never pass that up. We were told it would be really dangerous–as people HAVE died at this game before– and to be really shush-shush about being American, and to not wear ANY red or white and wear jeans because it’s all testosterone. Glad I can say that all that is false (minus the people dying). It felt much safer there than I had expected (I literally considered writing out a will the night before)– people care so much about the game and the players that they don’t seem to want to spend the effort trying to rob/harrass you. Unless you’re from the other team. Anyway, I felt completely at ease at the game. NYU is such a worrywart sometimes. My camera didn’t get stolen. I didn’t get catcalls–FOR ONCE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE..in Buenos Aires. I had as much money as I came in with. No one pushed me around or threatened me. I didn’t get any evil glares, even whilst speaking English. YAY.

And basically, BOCA WON. 2-0! YAYAYAY! Y DALE BO! Y DALE DALE BOCA! (and so on.)

Jugadores.

Hinchada Boca craze galore.

2-0

As is custom with the Superclasico, we allowed River to go home first, and waited forever to get our turn. As we were in the popular (commoner) section, we waited dead last because it usually consists of the most rowdy, spirited, proud fans you’ll ever know. So we watched La Bombonera go from EMPTY to SO PACKED to EMPTY again. Kind of beautiful, in its own sporty way.

As we bussed home, people were going nuts in cars, on streets, on buses. This car of boys was rowdy and rode on the outside of their car next to us, and asked where we were from (our windows were open). Los Estados Unidos. One gets out of his car, runs over to Sage’s window, and is like “BESITO!” and stunned, she KISSES HIM! HAHAHAHA how funny/cute/awesome! He then had to run to catch up with his car, which was swept forward in traffic. She said she was trying to give him the cheek..but no such luck. Oh, the ways of Argentines here. *sigh*

I had dinner with only Fermín, my host brother, and Tanja, the Swiss girl also staying with us. But Fermin and I got along so well and conversation flowed tan suave– which is not normal for me when it comes to Spanish. For some reason–likely when I’m not trying to impress/am intimidated by a hot someone in a bar/club/place and stumble on my words– I can talk at a good pace with him. No, I don’t have a crush. But I do enjoy the conversations we have. Tonight they were about the game, how “ugly” he thinks Boca’s colors are, and sports in general. Among other stuff. And Tanja, who is super cool and plays every sport ever AND speaks FIVE languages, understood the majority of our convo and added much as well! AND we had chicken with salad and rice. QUE FREAKIN RICO!

After, I skyped with Madre, and got ice cream with Emma. I was a little fearful of walking around Posh Palermo in my Boca jersey (remember, Boca is for the po’), but luckily, I passed by some awesome Boca fans. They were all screaming like “DALE!” or high-fived me. Maybe some people gave me looks when I walked by but I barely noticed. YAY!

I know I’m an extranjera, and really don’t have a place in anything Argentina-related…except I’m starting to. For however long, this is my home. This is a place to which my heart and soul and mind has become attached, and I’m enjoying it. Of course, I fall in love with every not-America place I go to (e.g., Bangkok, Berlin, Amsterdam). Same with Buenos Aires. I love the nightlife (as all two of you lovely dedicated peeps know), I love the gorgeous people, I love the lifestyle (minus annoyingly slow-walking people and the chill mentality). I love it. And I’ve fallen in love even more after the past two days I’ve had here. Olé, olé olé olé. Olé, olé olé olá. Olé olé olé, cada día te quiero más. (Sorry Layla, kekeke.) I might not live here when I grow up, but being here has made me fall for the world outside of the United States. Consider this my second declaration of become a future ex-pat.

Me encanta mi vida.