WordReference's wild ride comes to an end

The clock struck midnight for 2010's greatest Cinderella story.

After recording a string of memorable upsets earlier in the fall semester, WordReference.com, the plucky online dictionary that translated its way into America's hearts, began to lose steam, and will most likely finish the year as Mark Abadi's fourth-most visited website.

Five things I miss about the U.S.

The last in a series.


The top five things I miss about the United States of America


1. Burritos. There is no food that I have craved down here more than a burrito. Not like authentic Mexican knife-and-fork burritos — screw that. I'm talking about the enormous handheld football-sized warmly wrapped-up pieces of heaven you find anywhere in the United States. In Chapel Hill burritos are the post-party late-night food of choice, and there are approximately two Mexican restaurants for every UNC student, so I was disappointed to see a complete dearth of Chipotles and Q'dobas and the like in Argentina. I asked around about the one similar franchise in Buenos Aires, California Burrito Kitchen, but multiple sources confirmed it just wasn't the same and the tortillas were all stupid.

1.5. Spicy food. I figured coming to a Latin American country meant my taste buds would be pushed to their spicy little limits. Turns out, Argentina food is bland enough to satisfy even the most sensitive of wisdom-tooth-removal patients. This seems to be another cultural aspect Argentines borrowed from their European friends. You can specify you want your meal spicy at a restaurant, but it almost always comes out at baby-food levels of unspiciness. I just wanted to douse everything I ate — hamburgers, milanesas, medialunas — in my beloved Sriracha sauce. The only exception to the rule is chimichurri sauce, which has a decent kick and is terribly underused.

2. Family and friends. I miss you blah

3. Napkins. I'm pretty sure nothing pissed me off more the last five months more than Argentina napkins. I swear to God I will never take this simple luxury for granted ever again. In Argentina, table-side napkins are the size of your palm and feel like a sturdier version of tissue paper, or perhaps wax paper fused with a receipt. They don't soak up anything. Sometimes in a restaurant your food will come with one "real" napkin, which if went unused I would horde in my apartment in case of serious spills. Next time I visit Argentina I am stocking up in advance.

4. Predictable toilet-flushing handle locations. In the United States, there is a universally accepted location for toilet flushers: the upper left-hand corner of the tank. But Argentina doesn't play by those rules. Flushers go wherever the hell they want. My first day in the hostel I gave up searching for the flusher after two minutes and left the bathroom. The next time I eventually found it — a nub sticking out of the wall, at eye level, that you push inward. Other creative flushers include a nub on top of the tank, and, in my apartment, a chain hanging from the ceiling. Noticeably absent was the one location I think would make the most practical sense, which is on the floor next to the toilet. Hands-free!

5. Biscuits. Apart from consistently sparking epic British-American English dialect wars among my friends and me (you can have your weird digestive biscuits), biscuits are also a delicious staple of Southern American cuisine. My friends have heard my incredibly detailed accounts of the biscuit-enjoying experience, so instead of describing them again, I'll instead link to the menu of the greatest fast food restaurant in the world. And it's not "iced" tea, it's "sweet" tea; they just included that so foreigners would understand. I'm coming home baby!

Leaving

Last night around 2:30 in the morning, my roommate Luis Facebook-chatted me, asking what I was still doing awake. Luis was at his friend's house undoubtedly getting plastered, a fact I was cognizant of and confirmed the following morning, so I kept the conversation light and simple. "About to pack. My final 24 hours here."

And that's when it hit me that my semester here is coming to and end. This past week the thought of leaving has excited me because it came with thoughts of traveling to Colombia and returning to the United States to see family and friends. But the moment I read my words to Luis I was overcome with emotion as I realized I didn't want to go.

My thoughts immediately turned back to my first day here, when terrified but eager I checked into my hostel and began a new chapter in my life. So much has changed since that day I hardly recognize that person. I've learned how to cook and how to speak Spanish slang. I've memorized bus routes and given directions to tourists. More significantly, I've had so many changes of heart regarding my future profession — ranging from the serious (English as a Second Language teacher) to the not-so-serious (professional movie subtitler) — I can't keep track anymore.

And somehow, I've gotten to know this giant city. Between the speculation about college classes, summer internships and career paths, I've admired colorful facades and watched kids kick around torn-up soccer balls and walked cobblestone streets that seemed to go on forever. I'm leaving Buenos Aires with more questions than answers, but right now the only thing I care about is I'm leaving.

Five things I won't miss about Argentina

The top five things I won't miss about Argentina


1. Mayonnaise. It wouldn't surprise me if the national food of Argentina were mayo. Locals put mayonnaise on everything. It is more ubiquitous than ketchup in U.S. restaurants, however whereas ketchup often shares the stage with mustard and occasionally relish in America, mayonnaise enjoys a complete monopoly on the condiment market down here. I witnessed someone in a steakhouse get turned down when she asked for ketchup for her hamburger and fries, because all they had was mayo.


Before coming to Argentina, I'm pretty sure the only food with which I consumed mayonnaise was tuna fish. But here, the topping goes on any and all foods. It's so common that it's just a natural part of life for Argentines, like oxygen, or yelling. My biggest shock came when I saw a commercial for Hellmann's light mayonnaise in which a spoon is seen dumping globs of the stuff on top of salad and fish and chicken as I looked on in horror. I couldn't find the commercial on YouTube, but this mid-90s one should suffice in demonstrating the local affinity, while test you on your Spanish food vocab.

2. Stray dogs. I'm not a dog person, so I was a little unnerved to see dozens of dogs roaming the sidewalks any given day. They're everywhere. Sometimes I even start up a round of Dead or Sleeping, a little guessing game I like to play when I see a dog lying on its side with its eyes closed, or one time with an old guy on the Subte. The dogs seem to have adjusted smoothly to city life — they will wait politely at the curb until the light changes before crossing the street, and will walk harmlessly side-by-side with humans as they commute to their local dumpster. But I could do with out the barking and pooping and fear that one is going to leap up and bite my jugular.

3. Restaurant policy

This one's a catch-all topic that comprises everything I hate about eating out in Buenos Aires. Here's why:

• Cubierto. Cubierto is a mandatory fee tacked on to your check at most restaurants. Ostensibly it is a 2-to-8 peso charge for using silverware, although I highly doubt you can reject silverware and opt out of the fee. Cubierto lies dormant like a samurai in the back of your mind throughout the meal before ambushing you when the check comes out.
• No free refills. All restaurant drinks come in glass bottles here, meaning fountain soda and the free refills they come with are a foreign concept to locals. Besides being most likely terrible for the environment, the bottle policy forces you to ration your drink for the entire freaking meal. Have you ever wanted to take a sip but wouldn't let yourself because you wouldn't have enough left for your entree? It's the worst feeling in the world. In the U.S. you get your money's worth. The second that soda comes out I drink half the goddamn glass because in the United States there are endless free-flowing rivers of soda and I know my waiter's just waiting for the chance to ask me if I'd like some more.
• Water. Water comes in glass bottles too, meaning it's not free like in U.S. restaurants. This means every college student's diabolical scheme to save money and order "just water, please" is immediately foiled. At more low-key places you could probably order tap water but there's a decent chance it would be filled with like algae or something.

4. Fernet and Coke. Fernet is a terrible, terrible alcoholic beverage derived from owl pellets that Argentines mix with Coke to mask the dirt aftertaste. I've heard from multiple sadomasochistic sources that you "acquire the taste" after three or four times drinking it, although I've drunk it enough times to just up and say it tastes like ass. Fernet and Coke is somehow worse than the national drink mate, a bitter concoction of hot water and grass clippings. But while I enjoy taking part in the tradition of preparing and passing mate, fernet and Coke is one drink I'll be fine never tasting again. (By the way, can someone explain the concept of acquiring a taste to me? I've never understood why a drink can't just, like, taste good to begin with.)

5. Pizza. I figured with such an Italian influence, Buenos Aires would boast some impressive pizza. Wrong. Pizza here is less of a food and more of a congealed food-glorb. Olives come standard on every pie, and if you order meat, your pizza will come covered in what is essentially an enormous sliced up cold cut. Onion pizzas across are more like an entire chopped onion with some dough and cheese sprinkled underneath. Once on the Subte, I saw an advertisement for a pizza place, and the one pizza they chose to display was smothered in anchovies. It says something that the best pizza I ate all semester was in a British pub. And you know something's backwards when the most famous pizzeria in town is called Kentucky Pizza, which is like seeing a place called Quebec-Style Tofu or Mozambique Tacos or Ice Cube's School of Acting (Hey-o!)


Next up: Five things I miss about the United States

Tierra del Fuego diaries

The following journal entry was found under a foot of snow on the South American island of Tierra del Fuego. Historians believe it to be written by American expeditionist Mark Abadi sometime in the mid-19th century, before he was famously captured and eaten by sea lions, who were in turn immediately buried alive in an avalanche.

Today is Day Four of our Journey. I find myself in a terrifying and enchanted land. The winds are powerful, stronger than I have ever seen in my homeland. The air is bitter, the water cold.

We ventured to this island unprepared for the brutal conditions that awaited us. Six of my men have succumbed to the cold; another three suffer from frostbite. We keep warm best we can by slaughtering beached whales and lathering ourselves in their blubber. Our food supply is meager, so we have resorted to eating rocks and local children.

I fear tonight may be my last. If someone finds my letters separated from my decomposing but well-preserved cadaver, know that I have know regrets about my Journey, and I am without uncertainty where I belong. To my wife, if you shall feel the wind caress your cheek, know that I am calling for you. This shall give you comfort in my absence.

I must bring this letter to an end, as my men and I must search for camp before the sun disappears below the austral horizon. Tell my mother I love her, and my wife that I think of her highly. Tell my son he shall grow to be a courageous adventurer like his father, and my seven daughters that I bless them with the good fortune to marry either doctors or prominent tobacco magnates.

I would like to wish the world goodbye, as I, in the land of ice and fire, turn to face the wind and walk slowly into the unrelenting night.

The top five things I'll miss most about Buenos Aires

I have 10 days left in Argentina, assuming I don't get consumed by a whale in Tierra del Fuego this weekend. That means it's time for some end-of-the-semester lists, including what I miss from home and what I will and will not miss about Buenos Aires. Not surprisingly, most of the entries are food-related.

So here's the first of the series: the five things I'll miss the most about Buenos Aires. Despite the complaining I've done from time to time, I've grown to enjoy this city quite a bit. 

The top five things I'll miss most about Buenos Aires

Riding, and rating, the colectivo

Riding the colectivo is a daily part of life in Buenos Aires. Colectivos are what locals call public buses, and during the daytime, they own the streets. It's rare to find one in the morning that isn't packed. And because the subway closes at 11 p.m., colectivos are usually the best option for late-night transportation as well. Buses run 24 hours down here, so even though late at night you might be waiting on a deserted street for 40 minutes, you at least know you're getting home eventually.

Finding the right bus can be a little intimidating at first. Before I became familiar with four or five of the routes that run near my apartment, I would spend upwards of half an hour leafing through the Guia T booklet, attempting in vain to match up streets with bus stops until I gave up and hailed a taxi. Those days are behind me, however; now I just use Google Maps and comoviajo.com to tell me what to do.

When in a foreign part of town for the first time, the first thing I notice are the buses. The kiosks, the buildings, the people, they all might look the same as those in any other neighborhood. But in a new area, the buses -- the ones you've never seen because they don't drive anywhere near your house or your school or your favorite bar -- always stand out. Each one has a unique design, and adds a splash of color to the streets.

With that, I found it appropriate to rate the colectivos. Not by timeliness or efficiency, even though it kills me when I see an uninterrupted line of six 108 buses when all I need is one in the other freaking direction. And not by pleasantness of ride, because that honor would go to any bus outfitted with LCD screens and blue mood lights. Instead, I'll evaluate the colectivos by the first thing one notices about them: their outer design. 

The champion

Línea 68 — If the other buses on this list are rolling pieces of art, then the 68 is a masterpiece. According to Wikipedia, the design is the work of a studio hired by the bus company, and the professionalism shows. Against the white background, the rounded, off-center 68 draws the attention of the viewer, and is accentuated by the disconnected circle surrounding it. The black and soft blue tiles, ostensibly without pattern, give the work a sense of spontaneity. The brilliant use of negative space allows the bold colors to jump out. Even its web site is silky smooth. This is a bus you stop and stare at as it whizzes past you. This is a modern classic.