Kiana

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Nos Vemos

In The Art of Travel, 15. Farewells, Buenos Aires by Kiana1 Comment

In the last few days leading up to a big move, often times we’ll find that we have already emotionally left. Bags are packed, airport transportation arrangements are made, and images of our destinations play like movie trailers in our minds. It’s odd, isn’t it, that in our precious and dwindling time in a place, we are in a rush …

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My Advice to You

In The Art of Travel, 14. Tips, Buenos Aires by Kiana1 Comment

On one of my last afternoons in New York, I was sitting on the edge of my friend’s bed when she handed me a pair of black platform heels. “Just trust me. You’ll need these.” I rolled my eyes but took them, because she seemed pretty confident that I would make use of the borderline-gothic shoes. She was right. Before …

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Never Too Old to be a Brat

In The Art of Travel, 11. Travails, Buenos Aires by Kiana1 Comment

In the three months I’ve been in Buenos Aires, there have have been many mishaps. Whether it’s a lost wallet, a phone that won’t work, or miscalculated directions, I’ve experienced it all. These occurrences are annoyingly inconvenient when traveling internationally, but magically, they haven’t affected me much. There’s always been a silver lining to these mistrials. Without a bank card, …

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Argentina’s Silhouette

In The Art of Travel, 10. Books (2), Buenos Aires by Kiana1 Comment

I recently read Long After Midnight at the Niño Bien, a novel by Brian Winter about his Argentina experience when he unknowingly thrusts himself into the deep culture of tango. I was initially attracted to the book because Brian introduces himself as a recent college graduate, looking for an adventure in Argentina. Brian describes a feeling I related to- “seeking …

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Accessible Art

In The Art of Travel, 9. Art & Place, Buenos Aires by Kiana2 Comments

I think it’s accurate to describe Buenos Aires as a city for all. Keeping in mind a historic struggle to empower the working class that stretches into the present, it isn’t a surprise that art starts at ground level. And I mean that literally. Buenos Aires has beautiful, classic museums and art galleries, but the art that’s connected to me …

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Comfort is Overrated

In The Art of Travel, 8. Bubble, Buenos Aires by Kiana1 Comment

I’ve always identified with spaces. At home in California and in New York, I have my spots that provide me with comfort and routine, down to the desks I sit at in class. After a long day of commitments and errands, there’s nothing I love more than coming home and flopping onto my bed, because for the first time since …

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Where Restlessness Goes

In The Art of Travel, 6. Book #1, Buenos Aires by KianaLeave a Comment

Yesterday, I returned from a trip through Patagonia, which I appropriately accompanied with the novel In Patagonia by Bruce Chatwin. The novel is a first-person account of Chatwin’s journey through Patagonia to find the old skin of a sloth, a piece reminiscent of his grandmother and his childhood. In Chatwin’s words, “Patagonia is the farthest place to which man walked …

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Dónde Está Santiago Maldonado

In The Art of Travel, 5. Politics, Buenos Aires by Kiana1 Comment

“History has a way of repeating itself.” No. The progression of time doesn’t make the same mistakes, people do. Governments do. An increasing gap in understanding between opaque leadership and a furious public perpetuates itself, but the day the inflictors take responsibility is the day these patterns are broken. Today, we find Argentina in the midst of this blame game. …

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Bittersweet

In The Art of Travel, 4. The Spirit of Place, Buenos Aires by Kiana1 Comment

I want to talk about the spirit encapsulated in a small gourd. There are many arguably more important symbols of a city with tumultuous history in government and human rights, but worry about that later. I’m going to focus on the gourd. Every morning, Buenos Aires wakes up and kicks off the day with not coffee, but mate (pronounced maté). …

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I Am Dumb in Spanish

In The Art of Travel, 2. Communicating, Buenos Aires by Kiana2 Comments

There is one way I feel that I can accurately describe my experience thus far with the language barrier. It’s a Monday morning in Spanish class, and I’m explaining the spread of neoliberalism in post World War II Latin American nations. One hour later, I’m in a nail salon, and all I’m able to spit out is “hola….. nails..?” It’s …