Bariloche Part II: Brain Exercise & the Weird Moon
Expect the Unexpected
Note: This posting is a sequel to Bariloche Part 1: Whirrr!! Problems
I admit, I wasn’t wet behind the ears as a Spanish student when I went to the language immersion program in Bariloche, Argentina. I had already cut my Spanish teeth at a school in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Although I had been to San Miguel several times, I only stayed a week at a time – making me their all-time numero uno perpetual beginner student. My goal for attending the Bariloche program was to pump some serious español iron with my brain.
Given my track record as a diehard beginner, it was logical for the school in Bariloche to start me in the “Introductory Level” class. It would be a snap to move me to a higher level if necessary. Bueno! The ongoing curriculum was set up with open enrollment so new students could jump in at any time. My fellow entry-level classmates, all from Germany, were in their second week of the program when I joined the group.
No problem. I was so fluent in the first week of the program in San Miguel, I could navigate my way through it like a pro. In Bariloche, I was determined to start at square one and progress from there.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Brain Alarm!!
DEFCON 1 REPEAT DEFCON 1
I could NOT understand a single word the teacher said.
She talked; my brain went blank. It totally wussed out on my agenda for it to pump some serious español iron. I sat in the class like a half-baked bonehead, watching the clock because it was the one and only thing in the room I understood. Finally, the bell rang and my first day of Spanish school was over. Thank goodness.
The next day I was demoted to the KINDERGARTEN class.
As the lone student with a brain duller than a bag of steel hammers, I was assigned a private teacher and my own classroom on the lower floor, right next to the janitorial closet. We started with the alphabet and counting to ten – literally. My kindergarten classes moved along at a snail’s pace. I understood the written work. I understood jack-squat in the conversational department. It was all Greek to me – only it was supposed to be Spanish.
I was in serious danger of flunking the kindergarten class as well. The situation was getting so dire I hovered on the brink of demotion to Spanish nursery school.
Looky here! Stop the train!!! Something is NOT right!
Since when does my brain not work? I am many things, but one thing I am not is a dunderhead.
My pumpkin has an excellent computer in it. It is the type that thrives on challenges like pumping español iron.
My brain threw a royal hissy fit and DEMANDED I give it a fair shake before I hung it out to dry and started investigating “Residential Memory Care Facilities in Texas.” Still cut off from my own access to the cyber world, I frequented an Internet Café along the main drag. So, my protesting brain hauled me to the café, plunked me down in a chair, fired up a computer, and forced me to research, “Why is my brain so discombobulated in Bariloche, Argentina?”
Here’s the information I found.
1. In the late 1800’s a large number of German-speaking emigrants from Austria, Slovenia, and Germany settled in Bariloche. Attracted by the familiar mountainous terrain, the immigrants brought their Bavarian culture, language, lifestyle, and architecture with them. Later, soaring inflation in Germany after WWI prompted another large influx of Germans to seek a new start in Bariloche between 1919 and 1925. And, again, after WWII another wave of Germans immigrated to the alpine city. By the 1950s Bariloche was known as the Switzerland of South America, and it had the highest German-speaking population per capita in Argentina. Today, almost every citizen in Bariloche has German ancestry in their heritage.
2. There are eleven different dialects of Spanish spoken around the world. Although they have similarities, the Mexican dialect which I was most familiar with, is different from the Castilian dialect spoken in Argentina. I was aware of the dialect difference before I went to Bariloche, but I wasn’t overly concerned about it because I had previous exposure to both dialects.
3. What my “ear” did NOT understand was the combination of the Castilian dialect spoken with the very heavy, thick German accent of the people of Bariloche. Their German enunciation did not compute with my brain. Recall that in my kindergarten classes at the Spanish school, I understood the written work but not the spoken work. It didn’t matter worth a billy-goat’s beard that I had a private teacher, she still spoke Spanish with a robust German emphasis. On the other hand, the students in the Introductory Class that I flunked out of were all Germans, so the accent was right up their alley.
It took three weeks to “train my ear” to decipher the hefty German twist on what were otherwise familiar Spanish sounds and words.
My brain was redeemed.
At the beginning of my final week, I was promoted back to the Introductory Level Class where I was joined by six new students - all from Germany.
To date, I have experience with nine of the eleven Spanish dialects. I have never encountered the Bariloche accent again. Not once. But if I do, my brain will immediately recognize the vigorous German emphasis on the Castilian dialect.
The Dogs of Bariloche
Bariloche has a sizable population of stray dogs. As a dog person, I rarely went for a walk without a canine companion or two, or three loping along beside me. On Calle Mitre, the main commercial street of town, there is no shortage of pups snoozing on the sidewalks underneath benches, near store entrances, by light posts, or nestled against the buildings.
You won’t find a chihuahua, miniature poodle, beagle, or even a spaniel among them. Most are hardy mixed-breed LARGE dogs, capable of weathering the brisk alpine climate and the heavy snows that winter deposits on the Northern Patagonian town.
Dependent on local merchants, restaurants, and dog lovers for their care, the pooches are well-mannered and friendly, and they mind their p’s and q’s. Some, like the ones that walked with me, served as unofficial canine ambassadors to Bariloche.
Then there were “los perros vagabundos” – the renegade hounds that lived on the wrong side of the tracks. (“los perros vagabundos” translates literally: the stray dogs)
Los perros were talented, crafty, conniving, and quick. Around 5:30 PM they’d trot nonchalantly along Calle Mitre, coming from their respective hideouts. Their tactic was to spread out, mix and mingle, and blend incognito. They were masters of their trade.
Knowing full well that many Argentines shop for fresh food daily, a couple of los perros routinely sat in front of a local grocery store to greet the evening rush of busy shoppers zipping in to grab something to cook for their evening meal.
In a well-rehearsed charade, the dogs wagged their friendly tails and fluttered sweet puppy-dog eyes to all the adoring tourists and anyone else who acknowledged them. Los perros were such darling hounds! What red-blooded dog-loving person could resist them? Ahhhh!!!! Look at the dog. Such a nice dog.
It happened EVERY evening by 6:00 PM.
A tourist left the grocery store, bent down to pat the irresistible doggy on the head, and…
BAM!!! GOTCHA!!
Striking faster than lightning, the cute doggy’s comrade in crime swiped the grocery bag right out of the unsuspecting tourist’s hand and took off, barreling down Calle Mitre at 50 mph!
With the timed efficiency of a pro, the k-9 thief knew exactly where to stop and share the chicken or steak or whatever the contents of the heist with his bandit accomplices.
Meanwhile, the sucker-punched tourist was left to gather a jumble of dented canned goods, smashed produce, and trampled groceries that littered the street.
Take heed: The dogs of Bariloche aren’t aggressive. However, los perros vagabundos could have their eyes on your groceries if you aren’t careful.
The Lunar Eclipse
December 21st is the summer equinox in South America.
I hoped it would bring warmer weather to Bariloche, or at the very least, warm up the tiresome blast of wind that stubbornly refused to back down. Until then, the weather was like a whacky yo-yo. Warm with chilly winds one day; freezing cold with icy winds the next. The thermometer went up and down, but the wind never stopped blowing. Never. Never ever.
In fact, I bet the wind is still huffing and puffing in Bariloche at this very moment!
Coincidently, there was also a lunar eclipse in the middle of the night on December 21st. While a lot of people planned to watch it, I was not one of them.
Or so I thought.
The dogs of Bariloche ruled that night! All night long!
EVERY dog in Bariloche, stray and domestic, united in a surreal full-decibel canine chant to the moon.
They yipped, yapped, howled, yippee kay-yayed, hollered, yowled, bayed, and plain old barked!
Who could sleep through that pooch cacophony? Not I.
I poked my head out my window to see what all the raucous was about.
This is what I saw!
This is what I heard!
No wonder all the dogs were howling! Look at that moon!
Have YOU ever seen a MOON like THAT?
There are blood moons and then there are BLOOD MOONS! This had to be the Mother of All Blood Moons! This one takes the cake!
I have to admit, it had a weird “energy” and it was eerie in its own way. I guess that makes sense, given that the moon is NOT normally bright red.
It gave me goosebumps up my spine. brrrrrr!
I gawked at the red sphere, my mouth hanging open in awe, thinking, “Doesn’t the Bible have a prophecy about when the moon turns red?”
Yup! That it does! In fact, the Good Word refers to the moon turning blood red in a few places. Here is just one:
“The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood
before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord.” Acts 2:20
The blood moon is really just an alternative term for a lunar eclipse. The reason why the moon takes on the reddish color during the eclipse is due to a phenomenon called “Rayleigh scattering.” This is the same mechanism responsible for causing the red color in sunrises and sunsets. Of course, I know you’ve always wanted to know this information, right?
This wraps up Bariloche Part 2, my Friends. Next posting, Bariloche Part 3, mi esposo (my husband) joins me for fun and excitement in Northern Patagonia. There’s never a dull moment when he’s along for the ride! There will be lots of action and laughs coming your way. In the meanwhile, if you are enjoying Expect the Unexpected substack, feel free to pass it on to others and remember to “subscribe” if you haven’t already joined the group.