Armed with piercings, we head to the soccer field

Andrew Ford is a 22-year-old mass communication and journalism major from Eagle traveling through South America. He’s currently living in Santiago, Chile. You can follow him on Twitter, @barefootford, or you can visit his Web site, BarefootFord.com.

It’s almost midnight and I’m tired. I’m staying at an Argentine friend’s house, Alex, and after a long day of walking around downtown, I’m ready for bed. ‘Es hora de camir,’ I think to myself. I’ve studied countless hours, but I feel like I know about a dozen words in Spanish.

In the living room stands a few guys, two girls and one hamster. They are planning go to out. I can see it in their eyes. Still, communicating is an exercise in hand gestures, impeccable listening skills and above all, patience.

‘Do you want, go with them?’ Alex asks me. ‘Or… um… do you want, tranquillo, bedroom. Stay here?’

It’s my second night in Mendoza, Argentina and today I called it off, again, with one of those girls you can never seem to completely call it off with. The prospect of going to sleep in someone else’s bed in a house that locks up with plastic handcuff looking keys doesn’t put me at ease.

I’m tired, but I’ll explore the town with people I trust versus tossing and turning in a bed thinking about getting robbed. I am not in a plush neighborhood.

The guys are heading to a park to play soccer, virtually every-country-outside-the-United-States’ national sport. I tell them I don’t play, but can watch. Breaking an ankle or splintering a shin in a second world country doesn’t sound like a great idea.

During the day it’s hot. At night though, the desert air lifts and it gets cold very quickly. I grab my jacket and head outside.

Mendoza isn’t too different from Boise. Trade English for Spanish, Basque immigrants for Italians and you’ve got a start. The town of about 150,000 used to be and still look like a desert, but thanks to water piped in from the Andes, the whole city is covered in both palm and pine trees.

We walk along the broken sidewalks of Mendoza and head toward the main street, San Martin.

The crowd is a little different than what I usually hang out in the U.S., one-third punk rock and two thirds metal guys, but they seem safe and call me ‘Aaaaaandjreu!’  Besides, trusting Argentines sounds like just as good an idea as trusting wandering travelers in hostels.

We walk about five blocks toward downtown and stop at an intersection. The group splinters. The one guy who speaks English, carrying the hamster, says he’s leaving with the two girls. I’m comfortable with the remaining few, I don’t think they’re going to steal my iPod, but there is something a little reassuring about having someone there that speaks the same language. Just Spanglish and hand gestures now I guess.

One of the girls has black hair with a big chunk of pink spraying from her forehead, and the other one wears baggie jeans and a green shirt. They would both pass as American girls.

‘Chao,’ I tell them as we lean in for the goodbye cheek kiss that is mandatory in South America.

While in Chile you must only kiss girls, in Argentina everyone is welcome. After saying goodbye to a few of the guys, I realize why women don’t always appreciate facial hair.

We go to sit down with two guys in a park and wait for someone to pick us up. After about 20 minutes, no one comes so they hail a cab.

Nelson, the cabbie, is more than six feet tall, very skinny and has a tatoo on his left bicep for his brother, Jose, who died at three. In the cramped taxi on the way to the soccer field, I explain what his jacket says.

‘Tu… Esta… Carrone de Estados Unidos,’ I tell him.

He’s wearing a big black Chevy jacket that reads, ‘The Heartbeat of America.’

He tells me he is ‘Jimmy J.’ I don’t understand.

He points to a embroidered name on the front of the jacket.

I laugh. I tell him he’s Jimmy Johnson.

“I am Jimmy Johnson,” he says.

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Posted by Andrew Ford on Mar 18 2010. Filed under Culture. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.