Why is the club always going up on a Tuesday?

Week 4 in Buenos Aires

Last Saturday at 3:30 am I Googled, “Why don’t I like clubbing?”

The results were varied. A mix of articles about how crowds freak people out after two years of COVID, explanations about how spending tons of money, waiting in lines to get in, waiting in lines to get drinks, and elbowing people for space makes no sense, and analysis that people only go to clubs to hook up, so if you’re in a relationship, it’s pointless. None of those clicked for me, but I hated that I didn’t like something that is usually so closely associated with the “time abroad, left job, backpacking” trope. I had been at a good club with two friends but after 30 minutes I was just ready to go home. 

Clubbing for me was something for a special occasion, I realized… the naps…the energy drinks…the waiting…not an every-weekend event. 

Just 12 hours earlier I was having a blast on a tour I signed up for on a whim. It was a “thrift shop tour” of Buenos Aires that I found on AirBnB Experiences. 

I looked at my closet that morning and saw a slew of solid-colored shirts, solid-colored polos, and button-down shirts I had no use for here.

Now let me explain: Argentina is cheap for Americans. 

Like, “I’m sipping on a $3.50 Aperol spritz that’s considered expensive at a trendy bar as I write this” cheap. 

But clothes are a different story, as they usually are imported.

So this tour seemed perfect for me to try new styles and items on the cheap…well, cheap after having paid $35 for the guide’s time and knowledge of thrift shops in BA. 

The five hours flew by. 

We were exploring new neighborhoods and I had a local telling me (very bluntly, may I add) what looked good and what was trendy. 

I felt like a kid, and hadn’t laughed that much in a while.

Keep in mind I would’ve described paying to shop with someone as my personal hell three months ago.

Speaking of that, motivated by the realization that I could try on some different activities and personalities because…why not…I did something else far outside of my comfort zone, just to see if I could…

Bouldering (rock climbing close to the ground) group classes as a complete beginner, in Spanish of course.

Imagine trying something new in a class in which you are the only beginner.

Imagine trying that class alone.

Imagine it’s in a foreign language.

I loved it.

I had this man in his 60s with a stick hitting rocks on the wall telling me and others to use those and then yelling at me in Spanish like I was Messi sprinting toward a goal just about to score.

He had a pocketful of Karate Kid-style phrases and sayings I barely understood. It was clear he learned English from the Simpsons because it was not a G-rated version of the language. 

And when I fell – and oh, baby, how much I fell – he applauded if I fell after trying to get to the next peg the way he asked me to. 

“If we don’t try and fall, our muscles and brain will never get a sense for what getting there feels like,” he said in a mix of Spanish and English (with a touch of Italian, I later learned).

It. Was. The. Best.

Being applauded for falling and not being applauded for getting to the top if I did so the wrong way was the best.

The whole time, again, I felt like a carefree kid.

Because frankly there was NOTHING productive about this or the thrift shop tour… it’s not like owning a floral shirt is going to advance my career or health, and I’m probably not going to find myself needing to scale a short walk anytime soon.

It was goofiness for the sake of goofiness.

Let me rant about one more thing before I tell you what they have in common if you don’t mind…

When you get into the online language learning community there’s a fair bit of chatter about the B1 or Intermediate plateau.

Meaning, people feel they lose momentum when they feel good about the basics but can’t quite yet hold a full and clear conversation or 100 percent understand a native.

This is where I feel I’m at and it’s been incredibly frustrating still asking cousins and friends to translate words or repeat phrases that feel like they should be obvious.

There are tons of tips and tricks to push through it…from learning in a new way, taking more classes, focusing on using the language and talking, etc.

But the main thing I’ve seen has been just telling people to stick with it.

I bring these all up because I have a lot of internal fights with myself about what my time here SHOULD look like…a clear upward projection of language learning, fun on the weekends that leads to good stories down the road, new friends all the time, daily tours and new sights… but what I’m loving is the goofiness of it all. 

The fact that I went to the wrong Purim (Jewish holiday that includes parties and costumes) party with my cousin and we ended up just being the biggest goons in the room, the fact that I will wear a shirt that makes me look like a tourist in Hawaii on a random Tuesday now with blisters on my hands from climbing the pegs I was told to by a bald Argentinian man sipping mate (tea).

The joy of this is the fact that things can be enjoyable for their own sake…not everything is goal- or career-oriented. In fact…nothing here really is anymore.

The best part of this trip so far hasn’t been the sights, the tours, or the parties, it’s been the ability to just be a goon, embarrass myself if need be, and then wake up and do it again because I want to.

Goofiness is a gift, and a darn good one at that.