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By bevvy2212

Ok, hold your scream mom, I know you’re discretely reading this via google translate, but what I’m about to talk about has nothing to do with the topic, at least not in the way that you expected it to be.

What I learned this week about the French and their confusing culture is their way of handling personal spaces and their “petites bisous”—kiss on the cheeks.

For someone like me who has little regard of people’s personal bubbles and always enjoy popping them to test their boundaries, the French might not like me very much. It is weird because I remember vividly back in high school when my French teacher told the class that the French are way more intimate than Americans, which has not been the case for me, or maybe it’s a Paris thing. I kept on forgetting that Paris does not represent the entire France. In fact, most people have told me that Paris is one of the few exceptions of France and only the Parisians are mean. (Not that I’m complaining about living in Paris or anything).

I was having coffee with a couple of French girls one day and their comments about personal boundaries really threw me off. First of all, no hugs. Don’t go around hugging people you have just met five minutes ago. (Oops, guess I’ve been doing Paris wrong for about three weeks now?) A wave or a hand-shake like “Good day, sir”, should suffice. Um ok? I don’t know how it is for other people but I am a very hug-ish person so I have been very self-conscious since that conversation. I would flail my arms in excitement when I see my friends yet have to forcefully retract above mentioned flailing arms in order not to hug them. Yes, it has been a struggle.

The French like to kiss each other on the cheeks, at least they do it to their fellow Frenchmen, and these little kisses are very confusing and super awkwardness-prone if you don’t do it right. Back in Peru, kiss on the cheek is a must. Even if you are just meeting a friend of a friend with whom you have never met, you kiss them first, then you introduce yourself. But I guess the French are more selective in this process. Since I want to get submerged in the culture so everytime I meet a new French friend, I look excitedly at them like a puppy staring at a piece of meat, hoping against hope that they would smack their precious cheek against mine, only to be disappointedly rejected by a handshake. Yesterday, I was meeting up with a French friend for dinner and she brought another friend with her. We both looked at each other, eyes full of uncertainties. “Are we doing this?” Our eyes read. Then her head leaned forward for an inch. “Oh? Oh! We’re doing this!” I thought. I handled the whole situation smoothly, the kiss didn’t feel out of place or anything. Brush dust off the shoulder. *Pat pat*.

So yeah, I guess in conclusion, don’t touch them, unless they initiate it or if you are specifically interested in them. Vice versa, apparently if a guy touches you surreptitiously, (yes, I sound like I’m writing a romance novel for six graders, surreptitiously) then that means they are interested. Guess I’ll have to be careful not to send out all sorts of mixed signals…

By makenadingwell

8AM – I leisurely eat a small breakfast of toast with olive oil and salt with my host mom as I describe the “meet-and-greet” event I went to the night before with other students studying abroad in Madrid. She warns me about the Greek boys, describing the heartbreak endured by a previous girl staying in her home. “Él tenía una novia.” Ah, girl liked boy, boy had girlfriend. We continue to talk for a while after eating, a Spanish habit known as “la sobremesa” which literally translates to “over the table.” My host mom continues with a story about her daughter and an overly infatuated Chinese boy who studying abroad together in Orlando, Florida years ago.

8:45 - I grab my bag and say “hasta luego” to my host mom. Downstairs the doorman says both “hola” and “buenos dias” each morning before I walk out to the metro stop directly outside the door. Although it’s extremely convenient, I admittedly really miss jaywalking to class in D.C.

8:50 – After walking briskly through the small, but busy station, I wait for the next train coming in 5 minutes. Unlike in Washington, or most cities in the U.S., there’s a fair amount of eye contact and prolonged stares exchanged between waiting. I could be sporting churchgoing attire and still be stared at by a middle-aged woman as if I was wearing revealing short shorts, which seem to be undoubtedly trendy here.

9:00 – I arrive at Nuevos Ministerios, my transfer station to take the Cercanía train, which travels to areas more outside of Madrid. The platform is packed with other students from la Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, many wearing the aforementioned short shorts and huddled in groups, chatting loudly. Very few wear headphones or stand by themselves.

9:05 – The train pulls in slowly and I most likely forget to press the button to open the door so if it wasn’t clear that I’m a foreigner, it is now. We all shuffle in and students maintain their huddled shapes as I grab a seat. I pull out a reading for Spanish Literature class and the man next to me reads some of it too over my shoulder. The train passes slowly out of the Madrid and the empty dry land looks like southern California. Another GW Madrid student gets on at the next stop and we chat about the “meet-and-greet” too and I reference the prior warning about Greek boys.

9:25 – Since the train stops right on campus, we walk among the other students to class after stopping for a quick espresso at the university cafeteria. Then it’s all “vale, vale, vamos” from there.

By rbhargava

Just a few minutes ago I arrived back from my week-long spring break vacation. Along with 5 Germans, another American, and a Chinese student I went on an epic road trip through much of the Western Cape and parts of the Eastern Cape. We drove two sedans over 3,300km and having just gotten back, I am quite speechless about the experience. I hope to capture some of the thrills, adventures, and joys of this trip in this blog post.

The trip started last Friday afternoon when we all left for the Cederberg Mountains, a few hours north of Stellenbosch. We camped in the mountains that night, and wow does it get cold at night. On Saturday we hiked the Wolfberg Cracks, an amazing hike in the mountains that takes you through very narrow cracks in the mountain, many of which you have to squeeze through by going sideways through cracks, climbing over rocks, or even sliding below small openings in the rock formations. Following the hike we drove several more hours to our campsite right on the beach in the Namaqua National Park. Our campsite was right below a beautiful lighthouse, and we arrived late at night so that the eerie beachside campsite was covered in fog, with the only light coming from the lighthouse right above us and a bright moon approaching its full moon stage. We spent a day in a half in Namaqua, going to completely empty beaches, seeing flamingos in a tidal pool, and visiting the famous Namaqua wild flowers which are only in season for a few weeks (but our trip was timed perfectly during peak season). What a sight it was to see fields and fields of blooming wild flowers!

After two nights of camping right on the beach and baring the cold nights far away from civilization (the campsite only had a "enviro" toilet...no running water, to indoor facilities, nothing...), we took another long drive to the Augrabies Falls National Park.  The falls are known to be the 6th largest in the world, and we were lucky enough to camp in another beautiful sight just a few hundred meters away from the fall, so that even in our tents we could hear the roaring of the waterfall. At Augrabies we were able to drive our cars through a game reserve, relax in a swimming pool, hike around the waterfall, and even go on a night game drive run by the national park. Coincidentally, we ran into other friends from Stellenbosch at Augrabies, a pleseant reminder that South Africa is coming more and more like home to me, where no place is too unfamiliar that I won't recognize a face or two. We ended up running into even more friends much later on the trip, but that story is for another day.

After two nights camping in Augrabie, sleeping in the cold (again) and waking up to baboons raiding the campsite and dassies (rock hyraxes), we left for Witsand Nature Reserve. Witsand is part of the Kalahari group, and famous for sand dunes that "roar" in the wind. With only half a day to enjoy Witsand before our next destination, we walked across the great sand dunes and went sandboarding down one of the largest dunes we could find. The experience was like no other, although my few trips down on the boards always ended with a wipeout, one of which was a face first crash into the sand. A few of us ended up finding much more pleasure in rolling down the sand dunes and picking up a ridiculous amount of speed before crashing at the bottom. Once again, we camped at Witsand, and the Kalahari night was, no surprise, quite cold.

Our next stop on the trip was Camdeboo National Park in the middle of the Karoo, a 7-8 hour drive from Witsand. We spent the entire day driving, and arrived at our campsite within the national park as the sun was setting. The next day we drove up to the Valley of Desolation and saw some amazing rock formations on top of the mountains. We then left for the final leg of our trip, the popular "Garden Route" along the south-western part of the South Africa coast. With only a day and a half free before needing to head back to Stellenbosch, we squeezed in a canoeing trip upriver to a waterfall, some hiking, and brief whale watching on a cliff, although unfortunately none of us spotted any whales.

Coming back to Stellies, I'm now much more appreciative of a mattress and sleeping indoors, having spent several nights in a row sleeping in 40-45 degrees on sand, gravel, rocks, and any other uncomfortable surface one could imagine. I've also come to really appreciate and love South Africa as the country is so vast, and almost every landscape you drive through is breathtaking. We covered over 3000+ kilometers in one massive circular drive, but have yet to cover the surface of what there is to see in this country. The trip also made me feel more and more drawn to Stellenbosch, and all those cold nights camping made me think about my bed at my "home" in Stellenbosch rather than my home back in the states. It's great to be back in Stellies, but I can't wait to get back on the road when the semester ends and continue venturing around the country.

By Hannah Radner

Local schools have ended and begun again and my summer job has come and gone. It's been 84 years. I am ready to leave for London.
I chose the perfect program for myself, and I knew it would be extraordinarily difficult. That is already proving to be true even though I have not even left yet. It is challenging my acceptance of delayed gratification. Study abroad has been my ultimate goal since I knew it was something that existed, probably some time in middle school. Now, my departure is just on the horizon. London's ten-day weather forecast is suddenly relevant. I am eager not just to move to a new city and explore its treasures, but also to get back in the school groove. Except for those who are studying in the UK, pretty much all of my friends and acquaintances have already been in classes for a few weeks. Those who are abroad in other places have been abroad for nearly two months already. My classes begin on October 6.
Alumni of the program have made it clear that upon our arrival to class, professors will expect us to have done some reading already based on instructions they post on Moodle (a Blackboard-like platform for class materials) without ever explicitly telling us like many GW professors do prior to the beginning of the term. Many an angsty high-schooler would want to slap me for this, but I just want assignments. I operate best under pressure when I have lots of work to do, a condition I am sure will be easily met almost instantly upon my arrival. It has already become clear to me that my academic success (and sanity) at LSE will be even more reliant on my independence and initiative than it is at GW. There is a plethora of information spread throughout LSE's website, and sometimes it takes some snooping to find what I need. For example, LSE only recently published its course timetables and updated course guides, so I found out that two of the four classes I wanted to take are not actually being offered. This brings me to the second challenge the program is giving me: flexibility. I anticipate needing to be flexible like this throughout the year. I did not let it get in my way; all I had to do was choose two different classes. The website informed us that new undergraduates would register on Monday, September 8. It became apparent that "new undergraduates" did not include study abroad students. Thanks to this, we are all sitting ducks.
The fact that registration at LSE takes place so late is already causing me some culture shock and a tad of anxiety. The school's study abroad program is so well established that I know it's not a problem, this is how they have always done things, they do this every year, they didn't forget about us. There are around 300 of us in the program and, as I have already had the pleasure of interacting with some of them thanks to the wonders of social media, none of us have any idea when we actually register for classes online. Some of us have received the dreaded "soon!" in an email response to our frantic questions. If you listen very closely, you may be able to hear my sighs of relief from across the pond as soon as everything has finally fallen into place. I just have to remember: delayed gratification, flexibility, and patience. Good things come to those who wait.

By clairemac93

I learned through growing up in a small town in Pennsylvania that if you wanted to go somewhere, it was going to take a lot of creative energy to do so. It was my first introduction to transportation issues, and one that lasted quite a long time until I got my driver’s license and a car half way through my last year in high school. As such, the way to get around in a place is one of the first things I notice.

In Stellenbosch there isn’t much to share. Stellenbosch is out on its own- about an hour outside of Cape Town. Within the town, almost everything is walkable and the streets are friendly. Even at night I have had no problems walking home from any distance. You rarely, if ever, see a taxi here. Though I know they exist, I’ve never seen one. Instead, as is the case all over South Africa and more accurately speaking- all over Africa, they take the mini-buses.

Mini-buses are vans of about 14 spots on a packed day, which have specific routes they go on. In some places, you have a hand signal that you stand on the street with to show which route you’re looking for. Other places, such as in Cape Town, you either catch it at the mini-bus station, in which case the route is marked, or you stand on the street and the mini-bus wingmen scream out where they’re going. If you want to get in, you holler. When I say though, that there is a “specific route”, I mean only that there is a general direction they are going. Once on the bus, you tell the wingman to the driver (he’s the one who opens and shuts the door, takes money, arranges seating, and screams out of the bus as to let the driver concentrate on driving) where you want to stop at. Additionally, this isn’t a taxi, so cross streets just aren’t what they want to hear. Rather tell them, for example, to stop outside the Shoprite near the KFC in a certain area of town. They drive these streets every day, so they’ll know where you mean.

I, personally, love the mini-buses. This is for a couple of reasons. Firstly, speaking from a college student perspective, it’s cheap. A ride of 20 minutes across the city will cost you about R8, that’s US 0.80. This obviously depends on which city you’re in but nonetheless the trip will never cost you much more than a dollar. Secondly, it’s safer than a cab. Cab drivers here are skeevy, to put the most accurate adjective to it. They don’t run on meters, which they don’t do on purpose as to try to rip off unsuspecting tourists or to make up excuses as to why the fare has risen. You have to haggle almost every time you get into a cab, and even then things go wrong. Thirdly, the mini-bus is the most South African way to get around. One of my proudest moments upon getting here was my first ride in the mini-bus, crunched in among 13 locals, speeding across the streets of Cape Town. Lastly, it prevents you from being taken advantage of. Mini-buses don’t leave the station until full most of the time. This is good for you as a tourist, as if anything happens, 13 people just saw it. For example, I was once told a different fare than the rest of the mini-bus, being an obvious foreigner, and the entire bus went into uproar. “Unacceptable”, they said, “Everyone pays the same price”.

The second form of transportation here which is less frequented but still pivotal to the functioning of a work week, is the train. Now, having lived in Germany before, I had to lower my expectations a bit with the train. Germany was exceptional, and to this day I haven’t seen anything as efficient, or dare I say, shiny. South African trains may be a bit more like Septa in the United States. Rickety and outdated, but nonetheless used, these trains are busiest around 7am and 4-5pm. Though many would suggest to you to never take the train due to random gang activity or muggings, I’ve never had an issue. Like the mini-bus, trains are full of people. I take third class instead of first as to increase the amount of people around me. It costs about R11 to go the hour to Cape Town, about US 1.10. As stated, the trains don’t have a great reputation. No one rides them after dark. In fact, you’ll see them sometimes speed past at night and look through the windows to not see one human soul sitting in them. This is a shame, as sometimes the fear of violence breeds violence itself. Or it just breeds a rather inefficient way to run a train system.

Aside from the train and mini-bus, it’s an even mix between driving and walking. When I was in Johannesburg, at the end of a work day you would see huge throngs of people walking home to the townships from various parts of the city. There are deep paths made by many feet before you to wherever you want to go. It’s difficult to tell how many people actually have cars, as living in Stellenbosch is not representative of the greater population. However, considering how spaced out South Africa is, a car could be a beneficial thing to have.

As far as further distances, like Europe- South Africa has domestic airlines like Mango, which offer cheap flights across the country. This is because many people commute for work between Cape Town and Johannesburg. You can also take commuter buses. In fact, Greyhound is in South Africa. Though local travel is quite cheap, flights within South Africa and especially between African countries are incredibly expensive. I believe it’s because less people are using them, and those using them are usually quite wealthy, meaning prices aren’t driven down by higher demand. This means little country hopping like you would do elsewhere but easy travel within the country! I encourage that if you’re ever in South Africa to use the transportation that the locals use. It’s a great way to meet people, and more importantly, to show respect that you are open to seeing, even in the little ways, life from their perspective.

 

By bevvy2212

Three things I miss about the U.S/ GW

 

I never thought I would say this, but I actually miss Gelman… Sciences Po is kind of like GW. It does not have an actual campus; instead it has several academic buildings randomly scattered around in the 6eme arrondissement of Paris. That being said, space is quite scarce. Therefore, finding a desk to sit down and do some work is quite the challenge. For once in my life, I am actually motivated to do work and here I am, unable to even set a foot in the library because it’s so packed. Why Sciences Po, whyyyy. I also miss being able to physically go into the aisles and find books that I want because most of the books in Sciences Po are being stored underground that stretches miles and miles under Paris, so it requires some time to get the requested book transferred above ground.

 

  • Big Portions

Maybe I have been spoiled, but I am constantly starving in Paris because food is so expensive and the portions are tiny in comparison. 3 euros for a bottle of coke? What is this, capitalism! No refills? Blasphemous! I’m not a big fan of bread, wine, or cheese. So I honestly don’t know what I’m doing here in Paris.

 

  • The way I dressed.

The weather drops down to the 50s in the mornings here… while it’s been in the 80s in DC. It’s the first week of September. It’s barely fall yet. I should not be breaking out my llama sweater when I wake up for my 8am class. Also, I’m a pretty casual-dress person, so all the posh clothing and Louis Vuitton make me feel a little under-dressed at times. What I don’t understand is the Parisians’ need to dress up for badminton. Badminton! I went to my badminton class on Tuesday, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, I considered myself as dressed appropriately. But I was confused by the group of students in khakis, loafers, skirts, and flats when I reached the gym. I double-checked the address and came into realization that these poshly dressed people are, indeed, my fellow badminton players.

The teacher later cancelled class which was when I realized that my fellow posh badminton players immediately blended in with the Parisians on the street because of their way of dressing and I was left looking like I was going to the Olympics in my sports attire. Not to mention the amount of stares I have received again because of my shorts, God forbid that a girl should not show some skin when it is 82 degrees out!

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Picnic at the Eiffel Tower

If I had to choose one word to describe my first week in Paris, I would choose fantastique! It's hard to believe that we've been in the City of Lights for a week already. Just like at GW, everyone in my program (GW Paris Fall Business Studies) is really diverse and brings a lot to the table. There are people from each region of the States, plus Puerto Rico and Switzerland. We've gotten to know each other pretty well over the past week, which has been something like a “welcome week.” There have been a lot of small excursions, during which we’ve explored the campus, met professors, and enjoyed a lot that the city has to offer. Some other highlights include:

  • A picnic under the Eiffel Tower
  • A wine and cheese tasting on a rooftop overlooking the city
  • A guided tour of the Musée d'Orsay

During these excursions, I think a lot of people (myself included) have discovered one particular challenge of living in Paris: navigating the metro. You'd think that we would be able to do it easily, as there's a metro in DC, but the Paris metro is rather tricky with many different tunnels and ways to exit. On top of that, all of the station and direction names are unfamiliar to us, which applies to city streets as well. (When I went on a run in my neighborhood yesterday, I made sure to write down each street that I turned on should I need to retrace my steps!) So far, no one has gotten terribly lost (yet!) and it will undoubtedly get easier as the semester goes along.

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GW Paris students in front of the Muse d'Orsay

Despite the looming threat of classes starting tomorrow, one thing that I'm really looking forward to is spending more time with the five French SciencesPo students in our group, both in and out of class. Each of them is really interested in learning more about us and American culture, and they're more than welcoming to us. In my opinion, this has made the transition to Parisian life a lot easier. We will be taking all of our classes with them (three GW business courses and two SciencesPo electives), so it will be interesting to see the differences between American and French academic settings.

Overall, this week has had a lot crammed into it, but I wouldn't have it any other way! All of the activities have served as a great introduction to the city that will be our home for the next three months. See you next week!

Dingwell1
Tapas with GW Madrid students

“You’re studying abroad in Spain? That sounds like fun. What will you be doing there?” Months before leaving I was repeatedly prompted with this type of query at every dinner party or family gathering. After a few rounds of responding with, “going to art class in the Museo del Prado, taking classes at a local university, and excursions to Galicia, Barcelona,” it sounded exciting, but almost predictable. Yet again and again, weeks before I even started to pack, I was probed to describe dreamy expectations of my upcoming experience in every aspect.

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time there.” I nodded. “Once, maybe ten or eleven years ago, John and I went to Madrid for a day on the way to Barcelona and…” I nodded more. I heard lots of unspecific stories about how much they liked the Prado and how great it was to see the flamenco dancers, but nothing very concrete. At this point, after I’d dispensed my class schedule and planned intercontinental trips, I regularly whipped out one conversation piece.

Dingwell2
Delicious Tapas

“I read that they eat a little differently in Spain, etiquette-wise. Apparently you are supposed to keep both hands visible during the meal, as in on the table not on your lap. They also don’t eat butter with their bread and always keep the fork in the left hand, no switching.” My grandmother and her friends particularly enjoyed this topic at a brunch once, but I thought it was more fun-fact material, solely for pre-departure chatter.

However, at our first dinner, the fun-fact became more like our first challenge. Dr. Carmela Hernández, our Resident Director, repeated the same facts I had been both sharing and largely ignoring at meals. As we struggled to eat our fish, she filled us in on many more tips. Never yawn with arms stretched in public. Look at people in the metro, it’s okay, it’s normal, it’s entertaining. Don’t walk barefoot. Try to eat your hamburgers with a fork and knife. It’s gra-thi-as.

Three days in, and many plates of rabo de toro (bull’s tail), croquetas, ceviche, and chorizo later, some of us are still missing our mouths and dropping our food on our napkins. Nonetheless we are one step closer to being Madrileños and qué será, será, tapas in our laps and all.

 

By marisalgado94

Happy Brazilian Independence Day!

Although, funny enough most Brazilians are sad that the holiday falls on a Sunday… they love holidays during the week because then, they have work off!

Anyways, I have arrived in Salvador, Brazil and the past 7 days have been an absolute whirlwind.  From missing a plane in São Paulo and almost losing my luggage, to arriving at a hostel run by nuns and meeting the 20 other students on my program, and finally, to moving in with my host family in the neighborhood of Alto de Ondina, I have had ups and downs.

One of the biggest challenges I have faced so far is that I do not speak any Portuguese.  I grew up learning Spanish and that has helped me to understand a lot of what people are saying.  When it comes to trying to respond, however, every sentence is a struggle that sometimes I win and sometimes I don’t.  The best part is that most people are very understanding and willing to listen to my Spanliguese (Spanish, English, and Portuguese).  I have gotten very good at saying thank you, “obridaga” and please speak more slowly, “por favor fala mais devaghar”!

One of the best experiences I have had so far was when we were sent out in groups of 4, told to take the bus to a certain location, and conduct interviews with locals.  At first, the thought of using a public transportation system that we didn’t know and having to communicate with people when we didn’t speak the language made everyone a bit nervous.  After having the opportunity to explore the Rio Vermelho, our drop off site, we all became much more comfortable navigating the city and practicing our Portuguese.

This first week in Salvador has been full of adventure and I couldn’t be happier.  Isn’t that one of the reasons to travel abroad? To immerse yourself completely in a new culture and learn and experience all the country has to teach you?  This semester won’t be easy, but I know that in the end, it will all be worth it.  I cannot wait to continue learning Portuguese, start digging into my research project (topic to be decided!) and continue to get to know my host family.  Here’s to 15 more weeks in Bahia!

Tchau!

Marissa

 

By anuhyabobba

The size of Buenos Aires is hard to fully grasp, but here is what I like to do the most in this enormous town:

1) Cafes on cafes - The coffee culture here is incomparable, and that is something I truly love about Buenos Aires. The lack of to-go coffee places makes for some amazing cafes where you can sit down and have a nice cup of espresso with an assortment of pastries. Havanna is a cafe chain here that I enjoy, and their coffee and alfajores are on point.

2) Weekend fairs - There are numerous fairs that happen throughout the city on Saturday and Sunday: Recoleta, San Telmo, Palermo, and La Boca to name a few. Booths are set up selling artwork, jewelry, and more. I make a day out of it, especially if I am moving past my own neighborhood of Recoleta. The street food sold amidst the fair is delicious, and you can find beautiful items for cheap prices if you take the time to.

3) Sunsets on parks and plazas - Buenos Aires has many parks and plazas. Grabbing a blanket and sipping on some mate as the sun sets in Plaza San Martin brings so much peace to me. During the weekends, everyone does the same. You can see teenagers strumming on their guitars or old couples walking by you hand in hand. It is the perfect way to relax after a hectic day or week.

4) Restaurant searching - More often than not, my friends and I here set a time for dinner on the weekends. That is usually how far the planning goes, because we walk into the first restaurant that looks promising. This definitely could go poorly, but it actually has made for some fun adventures. It acts as a way of us getting to know our surroundings that much more, and we have found some amazing places to eat that we now return to when time permits. For example, we once ran into this cheap taco place called La Fábrica del Taco. Their 30 peso tacos were delicious, and it was so lively in there -- making for a perfect night.

5) Ice cream - I cannot even begin to describe how delicious the ice cream is here. Late night or evening walks to ice cream shops like Freddo or Volta is by far one of my most favorite things to do. Indulging in the best dulce de leche ice cream is a solid cure for homesickness or to just finish off a lovely day. The McFlurrys here are also heavenly. The Milka McFlurry is essentially dulce de leche ice cream with Milka chocolate chunks and chocolate syrup drizzled on. Exploring the many ice cream places Buenos Aires has to offer is an activity on its own.