Potpourri

THE SIXTH SENSE

Shit. Quite literally, shit. It's everywhere. I'm fortunate to live in a neighborhood that is well off enough where many of the residents own dogs, many of which are far too large to be cooped up in an apartment. But I digress, back to the topic at hand, shit. It's funny, I spent my first month here dodging it on every block and, at times, felt like Indiana Jones during his final venture in the Last Crusade. Now? Forget about it. In fact, I often do. It's not until I have a guest in town I realize how prevalent it is on the sidewalks. I feel, almost as if, I have grown a sixth sense that recognizes dog poo and instinctively avoids it. I can count the number of times I have found myself cursing canines this year on one hand, 3*. And two of those were in the first month here!

Unfortunately I don't believe this talent is something that will serve me in the future (Resume, strength: Great foresight in avoiding dog shit). Also, this talent does not extend out into other areas. It does not keep me from stepping into pot holes, avoiding bums, tracking mud or gum through the house, or hiding from Jehovah's witnesses.

*This number excludes the times I'm running for two reasons: purpose and place. The purpose being that I am so focused on many elements, my step, my stride, my cadence, etc., that if I were to concentrate on not painting my shoes with a fresh coat my running form would go to shit. The place is Park Las Heras, the closest park by far to my house, that I have deemed "dog shit park." Many dog walkers take there dogs here for hours on end so that they don't actually have to walk the dogs, brilliant right? Oh, and the idea of cleaning up about your dog's shit here is non-existent...it's fertilizer right?

I BET SHE GIVES GOOD HELMET

There are quite a few people in the city who ride motorcycles, about 80% of whom I'd guestimate don't wear helmets. The odd thing is, they have their helmets with them. Sometimes helmets are placed in their lap, in between them and the steering device (as we all know this increases it's effectiveness 100 fold). Other times it is worn around the arm, with the hand going through the visor area. Last, and my most favorite, are those that have the helmet on but its only half way on so the visor is facing the sky and the bottom part is on the forehead. This position is just ripe for the helmet to fly off into the air and morph into a invisible force field surrounding the rider.

I can only assume there is some silly law on the book saying motorcycle drivers must have a helmet on them, but falls short of saying they need to wear one. The transitive property could also lead us to believe that cars only need to have the word "airbag" printed on the dash instead of actual airbags. Additionally, seat belts are defined as anyone wearing a belt while sitting.

SHORTS

Smile, You're On Candid Camera

Remember those signs in 7-11 in the 1990's? The ones saying "Smile, Your Being Filmed" or something of the like. I'm pretty sure those made their way out with the cassette tape in the US, but never you worry, they are still thriving in this environment (see previous Argentina is the 80's post). Oddly enough, I was walking by a military post and saw those signs posted inside. Is anybody really going to walk past the dual guards with sub-machine guns and think "hey, I'm gonna rob something, oh no, wait! we're being filmed."

RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK

I've always wanted to flirt with a hot woman on an airplane.

It doesn't really have to go anywhere, though I think it would be even cooler of a story if it did. This dream has become slightly more than just some far away fantasy, as sometimes when choosing my plane tickets, I try to pick a seat that has a higher probability of having a hot woman in it (it's usually when there's only one other seat in the aisle, as two seats could imply a couple. That or I click on the "hot chick seat" button that airlines are offering nowadays, but that usually costs extra). To this day my dream has yet to come to fruition, though I think I'm handicapping myself. If I chose the aisle seat I would be doubling my odds of a possible encounter, but what kind of weird chooses the aisle seat?

Mom! I'm OK!

No excuses, I missed a blog entry two weeks ago, letting near a full month past without an update. Part of me wants to make excuses: I was waiting for pictures, I had guests, I got sick, I've been busy. Part of me wants to promise that I will be better in the future, a promise you've heard before. All of me realizes that the previous two sentences are the same words uttered by people with addiction problems. Should I be worried?

MARCO!
POLO! If only I could hearken back to the days of carefree pool play during the summers of Richmond. Unfortunately this Polo is much different, and dare I say more ridiculous than the game where we used to pretend to be blind in the water while playing tag. How so you ask? Take generic sport with the objective of scoring more goals than the other team, add one horse and one mallet.

Actually other than the absurd dress code of double golf shirt with two popped collars and a pastel sweater tied around your neck, Polo was actually a pretty fun sport to watch. It was hot as the hubs of hell, but the game can be pretty exciting during a break away (think fast break in basketball).



Fun Fact: The rules of Polo only allow for it to be played right-handed (safety issues) and there have only been three professional southpaws (who played with the right) in the modern era.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!

Sometimes I feel like they have a special announcer just to say the above and I can almost hear him jump the gun when the ball hits the crossbar or something.

As my buddy Will was in town, we decided to go cheer on my favorite team down here, River Plate.
Quick aside: a recurring theme in Argentina is that everything is just about opposite of what you would think it to be. River Plate, for example, one the championship (of about twenty teams) in June, after a three week break the second season began and they finished dead last. How does that happen?
But I digress, back to the journey (everything in Argentina is a journey). Our helpful cabby dropped us off in the best of neighborhoods where we had to navigate between fights, water tanks, and police officers to find a gate to purchase tickets.

Above: Argentine Water Tank, a general sign of safety right?

Of course there’s only one side of the stadium where you can buy the good tickets and we were on the opposite side. Since we were late we decided to opt for the Generales, cheap seats, known for their rowdy and sometimes rioting fans, this was going to be interesting. I was also a bit worried as my friend Katie was coming to meet us. We managed to stay on the far side of the raucous gangs and keep a relatively low profile. I only had to correct Will once when the crowd was whistling (equivalent to booing in the US) and he started clapping, thinking it was to cheer people on the time. The rest of the time was spent clapping, pretending to sing along to the chants (which are non-stop) and me keeping a watchful eye. I planned our exit about five minutes early as River was losing and I didn’t want to get caught up in a crowd of angry fans, but some rather stoic policemen were blocking our way. I guess they thought it was going to rain or something and didn’t want us to get wet, that would explain why they were dressed like they were and why we had to wait twenty minutes (you know, like thunder at a pool).


Above: Police in their "rain gear"

TURKEY DAY

Since Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I knew I would be missing it abroad, I decided to organize a festivity down here. It was a pain in the ass but a ton of fun, and I now have a lot more empathy for the matriarchs of families (or whoever generally organizes this event). We rented some cabanas at the river just outside of the city, complete with dining facilities and a swimming pool. After twelve hours of cooking on Wednesday, made easier by the copious amount of libations, I was ready for some celebrating on Thursday.


Above: Most of Thanksgiving Day was spent here

The day did not disappoint. Although it was a bit weird being 85 degrees and sunny on the big day, fun in the sun with fifteen friends in not a bad way to spend a holiday. We didn’t actually end up dining til late, about 8pm (which is early argentine time, but late for thanksgiving dinner, I think) and actually arranged a true feast. Through craftiness and a few people bringing in imports we had it all: turkies, taters, mac and cheese, cranberries stuffing, pumpkin pie, corn, gravy, bread, etc.

THE FEAST. The biggest pain in the ass was lugging the 150+ lbs of food up there as it was a one hour train ride, standing up. We also lacked some preparation and couldn't package everything neatly so some stuff hand to be throw into big plastic bowls for ease of carry. This was all worth it though as two american girls saw my roommate carrying said bowl and said to her friend "I wonder why that guy is carrying a cheese grater." The response: "he must be a traveling chef or something."


A FEW SHORTS:
(readers note: this is a section I’m thinking about sporadically adding, generally of things I have witnessed that are downright silly, but not worthy of commentary)

-when will was hear we saw the President. She was behind a fence, but about thirty feet away from us and had less security than Pacman Jones.

-I watched a guy skid out and fall on his bicycle the other day. I laughed. Then I felt bad as it was an extremely busy intersection and very dangerous. As I got closer I realized why he fell: he was riding his bike with roller blades on. He then sat on the curb and tightened his roller blades, as if their looseness was the reason he couldn’t ride his bike.

-I was reading an article in the local paper yesterday that was talking about the Argentine psyche and it was none too kind, the basic idea being that Portenos were full of themselves and carried about nobody else. The article carried a bit less merit as the editor missed a very important “l” and one line read “the pubic sectors are public.”

RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK:
Argentina is the 1980’s.

I realize this argument flies in the face of the space-time continuum, the fundamental elements of science and physics, and is probably causing ole Albert to turn over in his grave, but here me out:

1) The most popular concerts held over the past year have included: boy george, Madonna, and Cyndi Lauper
2) The mullet is in full effect, and I mean FULL. Side mullets, mini-mullets, rat tails, layered mullets, and my personal favorite: the buzz cut with three well-spaced bleach blond rat tails hanging off
3) Leg Warmers are fashionable. No joke, I’ve seen multiple pairs being worn during the day. Despite the fact that there is no logical argument for functionality, these days were also far too hot to even make such an argument
4) Spandex is here to stay. Sure it appears more in gyms and this happens in the states, but on men? Also seen it on the street on women, including my favorite type that is really baggy until it reaches mid-thigh, then super tight.
5) My favorite outfit I’ve seen: pink shoes and purple tights. I literally had to stop in the street and marvel until she passed from my sight…nobody else batted an eye.
6) Slap bracelets are still in effect


PS Still looking for New Years resolutions...anyone? anyone? Bueller?

A short look back

No major news stories this past week, though I have heard some rumblings about some kind of election or something that happened past Tuesday. As a result, I'm going to try a different approach and write a collection of shorts.

GOBAMA!
Apparrently this is some clever individuals combination of "Go" + "Obama," I get it. What I don't get is how Alabama football (currently ranked #1 in the nation) fans never found some sort of way to manipulate said signs to cheer for their team. The actual reason I bring this up is the question asked on a post from my last blog:

What's the atmosphere/sentiment down there post-US election?

Argentina's economy is tied rather close to the US, as well as their culture and their politik (or so they think). Although the day to day life is really no different, there is an out-pouring of support for Obama. A recent poll showed 70% of Argentines supported our President-elect and I can see why. Objectively speaking, a younger black man is pretty far on the opposite end of the spectrum of our past presidents, those being old white dudes. If nothing else, and I say this by mere observation, Obama represents a symbol from America to the World of "we want to change."

AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
Never one to use my blog for political purposes, I did want to take a non-partisan look back at the election, for those of you who haven't had enough country. It gives me great pride to see the world taking such a close interest in our election. In a time when the dollar was town, China and India are on the rise, and rumors have already started about the collapse of the great western empire, this election has shown both the beauty of democracy and the staying power of the american will. I doubt, in my life time, that there has ever been an election more closely watched than this. Countries spanning the globe tuned in, and front pages world-wide reported the results. Short of living in the remotest of remote areas, a extremely large majority of the world's population knows who the next president of the united states of america.
Think about that...how many world leaders can you name? I'd be suprised if it's five or greater, and I think all of my audience are college (and even post-graduate educated folk). Meanwhile, people who can't even read in Kenya, Argentina, and various other remote third world countries know at least one, and that's the US president. Some may take the fact that most Americans probably couldn't name five world leaders as an show of how ego-centric we are, but that's a discussion for a later time, and i believe Otter said it best with "I put it to you, Greg - isn't this an indictment of our entire American society? Well, you can do whatever you want to us, but we're not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the United States of America. Gentlemen!"

THESE SCHNOZEBERRIES TASTE LIKE SNOZEBERRIES
I started a new diet last wednesday. It's a bit radical and has almost no sugar or carbohydrates, very similar to the South Beach but a bit more extreme. For those of you wondering why, I think the best answer was the one I gave to my roommate: Cause all I've been doing is eating and drinking for the last eight months.

If you ever tried a similar diet, you know what I'm going through. For those of you who haven't, however, let me fill you in. Sugar is actually a bit of a drug, especially processed sugar. True, your body needs sugar to produce insulin and survive, but most of America has essentially over-loaded their system with processed sugar. Your body the converts the sugars inefficiently and starts to treat natural sugars (ie fruit) the same as processed sugars (candy, granola bars, etc). Long story short, a large minority of americans are obese, diabetes could drain our health care system, and for the first time in the history of the US, the life expectancy in younger generations is lower than that of their parents.

Two weeks is the initial and most extreme phase, almost no sugars. I've had some trouble sleeping, been moody, and even had bizzarre day dreams. This is a bit freaky that sugar withdrawal can do that to a person, but my day dreams have been nothing but funny. The other day on the bus I envisioned (it was near hallucination) having myself crawl inside one of those ice cream freezers at a local shop, ten minutes is all i'd need before going into insulin induced shock. The next was after a swim workout. I had forgotten to eat beforehand, and even drink water. I finished the workout absolutely ravished and was craving everything. On my way to find water I passed a guy carrying a two liter bottle of pepsi that was so cold it was literally dripping with perspiration. Although I havent had a soda in almost four years and rarely miss it, I envisioned showering myself in it and there may have even been music playing in the background. 8 more days...

RESOLUTION
Those of you who know me well, know I love New Years resolutions. It all started junior year of college when I decided I was eating too much crap. Instead of doing the obvious thing like stop going to fast food or eat in moderation, I gave up french fries. From there, the legend was born. I now give up something every year, and take that time to decide whether I really want it in my life. Despite Jimmy's best efforts of trying to show some fried taters between my knashed teeth, its been nearly five years since I've had a fry. Some of the others:

2005: Soda, never went back.
2006: Alcohol (in north america, i spent a week in London), went back. What's better in life than a beer with pizza or wings, or just on a hot day. Also a nice glass of red wine with a good italian meal, I couldn't deprive myself of that.
2007: Desserts. Also went back, a great dessert is pure bliss.
2008: Potato chips, not sure but am thinking about staying off them.
2009: ?

I'd actually beg your help for 2009. I'll be in Argentina for part of the time, traveling through south america another part, probably richmond for a bit, and hopefully San Francisco. Due to unknown variables I can't give up my initial resolution: fast food. What happens if I'm on an 18 hour bus ride and the only stop they make is McDonalds? I'd ask for suggestions, serious or funny, emailed or posted, and I'll put my three favorite to a vote on the blog. thanks

AWWWWWKWARD
I was down in a main tourism area this past weekend, shopping for a map, when I experienced one of the more awkward times of my life. When one of my friends was going to try on a hat, the cross-eyed cashier (a guy in his young 20's) asked me what BJ meant. In argentina, it means boca juniors, one of the most popular teams in the country (and most recognizable in the world). I tried to give him the literal translation twice, but it just wasn't registering, so I gave him a couple translations into Spanish. He immediately blushed and apologized for bringing up a taboo subject, then continued to talk about it for the next three minutes in front of my friend and various other women.

RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I wonder if Toucan Sam, the lovable and more than slightly annoying bird in the Froot Loops commercial, just had a nose for Fruit Loops or if he had hyper-sensitive olfactory sense. I'd guess the later because the former is far too fictional. Who smells fruit loops anyways? I never did. Could you imagine sitting down in front of your bowl, milk freshly poured, and leaning your head down to get a big ole whiff of artificial flavoring and coloring?
The latter really isn't a much better option though. If he's able to smell Fruit Loops so well, the he can smell other, stronger smells even better, like shit. Walking around and smelling shit 90% of the time would not be worth the other 10% of Fruit Loops smells, at least not in my book.

Really? Again?

For those of you who read my European entry on Octoberfest, you, like me, would be wondering how someone could possibly ever pull such a feat, much less repeat it. For those of you who haven't read said entry, I'd highly recommend it (see Beta blog v1.0).

My friend Tom arrived on Friday morning for a short five night stay, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The real beginning to this story goes back two weeks to when my parents were here. I took my folks out to a local brew pub, one of the few that actually makes good beer, to have a pint. On the table I noticed promos for a Oktoberfest celebration they were having the following week (Oct 23-25). With a slight longing for days of yore and phantom pains from my liver at the mere mention of said event, the promise of german food, beer, and music was too much to pass up. Before realizing what I was getting myself into I sent out an email to prepare the crew... this was going to be a big night. As Friday the 24th would be my buddy's first day, and Patrick's (my roommate) buddies last night, all we had to do was wait.

I actually ended up meeting a friend of a friend there for a pint. He was new to Argentina and i figured I'd let him in on one of the better bars, as well as scope out the scene. Much to my surprise, they were having chugging contests, my achilles heel. They were mid-contest when I arrived so all I could do was watch as argentines slowly drank and spilled beer in a terribly public manner. The mere idea of the winner that evening drinking his beer in eight seconds and spilling a quarter of it got my competitive juices flowing. I befriended the bartender and made sure I would end up competing the next evening.

Fast forward to friday evening. We arrive at the bar at 10pm as that's when the "fondo blanco" is supposed to start. Silly me for believing it would occur on time. Perhaps it was nervous energy, or excitement for Tom being in town, but I managed to be well on my way with more than a few beers and a shot of whiskey by the time the contest actually started. Two fields of 6 in the male competition and one field of six women, the winners meet for the final. Round 1: I lost. Though, as it turns out, the winner just poured his entire beer on his shirt. My entourage pointed this out with various gestures and curses in english and spanish and I made my way into the finals. The finals, of course, happened about two hours after the first round, which was the exact amount of time I needed to repeat my previous drinking mistakes. Round 2: the championship round, I won. And what did I win? ANOTHER BEER! They gave me a mug to and allowed me to choose what type I wanted. Dazed and disoriented, I just pointed to the nearest keg. Pictures actually tell this story better than words, thanks to Katie for snapping some:

OCKTOBERFEST
The beginning

the end of the contest. You'll notice a little spill on my shirt, which the other competitor had too (as well as some beer left in his glass).


Hilarity actually ensued after said event as my buddy Tom is probably in about the same shape as I. Those who don't know Tom, this guy has the kindest heart in the world and is one of the most un-assuming and un-threatening people you'd ever meet. Tom, the goofy putz that he is, was so excited about being in Argentina he began walking up to every Argentine girl and saying "hola." A little liquid courage may have helped to, but the problem was that Tom only knows five spanish words. Thus, when they replied all he could say was "bonita," shrug his shoulders, and laugh. I'd imagine there were probably about 55 girls at this bar, and Tom probably tried this technique with 49 of them.

As for me, the bartenders invited me behind the bar for some reason. I'm pretty sure it was for some announcement or something quick; however, one of the last things I remember is that I decided to stay behind the bar for at least an hour. Consequently, I don't remember much of the rest of the night and my friends (in better shape than I) don't remember paying for drinks at the end of the night.

me behind the bar, probably telling the bartender how to do his job


I'm starting to see how I ended up in the shape that I was in

me at the end of the night

In related news, I'm reconsidering my position on drinking

Random Thought of the Week
Is change (as in coinage) feminine? This actually all stems from the shortage of coins and their absolute neccesity within Buenos Aires. I can't imagine another day-to-day item more immasculinating than a coin pursue, but am open to suggestions. The more I thought about it, however, the credit I give to this argument. It may be coincidence that the word "peso" (whole monetary unit) is masculine and "moneda" (coinage) is feminine, but I think this phenominom prevades into the US culture too. How many men do you know that carry a change purse? None for me, every guy I know has a change jar or container that he puts whatever was in his pocket in at the end of the day. Women? Most all women seem to have billfolds that also carry change. What necesitates them needed change more than men? Or why can't men have change areas built into their wallets?

Perhaps this discussion isn't brought up and these questions remain unanswered for me due to the fact that their answers really would benefit almost no one.

The Beverly Hillbillies Go to Argentina

A common phrase uttered by myself and my parents anytime we stood out during their visit down here, which I guess was essentially all the time.

Though there is no valid excuse for not having updated the blog in three weeks, things were quite busy in preparation for and during the stay of my parents.

Their visit was a fun one, though quite exhausting on both parts. I also have to admit my parental units are more travel savvy than I initially though. Armed with a very few words of spanish they made their way too and fro the airport and were able to handle themselves quite well when I couldnt be their guide. Much of the trip was consumed by exactly what you do in Buenos Aires: eat, drink, and shop. The highlight, however, was our side trip to Ushuaia.

THE LAND OF FIRE
Tierra de Fuego, spanish for the land of fuego, is home to the most southern city in the world: Ushuaia. Tierra del Fuego is actually a bit of a misnomer as the cold tempuratures and Andes Mountain range lead to a land covered in ice. The name is actually derived from Magellan, the first to navigate the Beagle Channel. He saw small fires on many of the islands that were populated by local indians (all of which have now been eradicated) and thus gave it the name Land of Fire.

As our flight down there was at 5:30 AM, we actually thought it better to stay up all night and get to the airport early given that Aerolineas Argentinas is prone to delays and mistakes. It turns out we were right. As soon as we arrived, dry-eyed and weary, I get a 3:20AM call from the airline saying our flight has been delayed two more hours. Bank error not in your favor. Sitting around for three and a half more hours was utterly miserable. For those of you doing the math at home you may be thinking "his flight is at 730, but he sat around until 6:50? how does that work? what about security, gate check, etc?" At 650 we got in a line of about 150 people since the gate was yet to be opened. With only one metal detector it took us a mere 10 minutes to get through the line. So, in answer to your question, we managed said feat through complete and utter recklessness on behalf of Argentine security. I'd say roughly 2/3 of the people walking through the metal detector set it off, none were stopped and not a single bag was further inspected. We made it through, made our plane, and made it alive...that's all that counts right?

Ushuaia is crazy beautiful. After a great seafood lunch (quite lacking in BsAs) and a long rest, we took a tour of the beagle channel. We explored the flora, fauna, and history of said channel and it was quite enchanting, even on two hours of sleep. The next day we were slow to get up but made our way out for a hike in the national park that afternoon. We were told the hike was "not too difficult" but didn't realize those giving such advice were being quite literal. Although it took us about 50% longer than expected, the scenery was nothing short of breath-taking. Lake meets mountains, wildflowers, and wild horses. That night we dined at our hotel, which is known as one of the best in South America. The food was exquisite as I indulged in the king crab (when I can get seafood these days, I take advantage) and my folks had the trout. Our last day in the city we went up a ski lift for a minor hike (it actually was minor this time). The ski season was over but there was still quite a bit of snow on the mountains especially once you get above the tree line. As my dad was equipped only with loafers and mom was still a bit weary after the previous hike, I ventured up the mountain solo. It felt like 30 minutes on a stairmaster on the hard setting and I felt a bit weird half way up (above the tree line) surrounded by snow but having shed my jacket and fleece and rolled back my sleeves. Had I ventured another 45 minutes up the mountain I would have reached the martial glacier, but I was not prepared for such a feet. Instead of clumsily meandering down the mountain I opted for the funner and faster method: I created a sled out of my jacket and butt-slided all the way down. Later we checked out the old prison, which was packed with all sorts of historic treasures, but after an hour or so we were too tired to appreciate it and went back to the hotel to rest up before departure. If you can ever make it down that far, I'd highly recommend it.


Folks mid-mountain with the Beagle Channel as a backdrop.


Duck tape surrounds the load-bearing part of the chair lift. Should I be worried? No pase nada!



RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
Is it some sort of unwritten (or perhaps even written) rule that, when in a museum, one must walk with their hands folded behind their back?

Video Killed the Radio Blog

Ok, so this blog actually has no affiliation with a radio, but I will never apologize for somehow fitting the Buggles into my misadventures.

As I figured both readers and writer alike would enjoy a break from my long-winded memoirs, I thought now might be a good time to share a few of my favorite commercials from down here.

A Few Quick Notes:
1) I'm quitting my job. I've already put in my two weeks and will be finishing up this week. As much as I hate to quit things, I found the work environment turning me into someone I'm not and thought it better for everyone if we parted ways. An added bonus is that you don't have to hear me gripe about that anymore.

2) There will be no Random Thought of the Week this week, as the argentine commercials I am supplying will cover that aspect completely.

3) For those of you disheartened in the lack of reader material this week, I can only apologize and offer a few quick reads as something to tide you over 'til next week: Don Quixote, War and Peace, or Atlas Shrugged.

VIDEO 1

Both clever and cute. The thing I love most about this commercial is the song. The artist is Aselin Debeson. I haven't really listened to much of her other stuff (there's not much) and this song was, I believe, actually just recorded for the commercial (my empirical evidence being it's only a little over a minute).

VIDEO 2

I guess the recurring theme is the music in these commercials, though the dancing is also worth noting here (as it resembles my own). The creepy guy in the background is kind of funny too. The most ridiculous part is that there is absolutely no connection between the commercial and the product/service being offered. For those of you without a Spanish tongue, please take a second to guess then check out the answer (at the bottom of this post).

VIDEO 3

Another one that I essentially like because of the song...there's just something about it. Kind of chuckle-worthy too. Unfortunately this song was also made just for the commercial, but it is based off of "Elephant Gun" by the band Beirut. That song, and their Postcards from Italy are both great so check them out if you get a chance.

VIDEO 4

I'm assuming this one probably aired in the US but figured I'd share it anyway. A great collection of olympics clips put to this song makes for an amazing commercial. More than anything, I think it really summarizes the duality of the olympic spirit: nations competing in sports instead of conflicts and courage through competition.




ANSWER: A fixed-time period mortgage.

Slow News Week

"THAT'S SO TABU!"
The one noteworthy piece of news occurred this past Saturday, during my friend's asado (bbq). A couple other friends had brought over TABU, the spanish version of TABOO. I was tentative to play as the last time I did so ended rather abruptly seven years ago. Freshman year of college and the word was "sleigh." Sounds simple but its just obscure enough that, when you take out the five words you can't say, there are very few options. The clever pup that I was, however, decided to borrow a tune from a christmas jingle and started to sing "______ bells ring a ling, ding ding ding-a-ling do." Obvious right? My teammate blanked. This was the first word of the minute, and as we both grew more frustrated I started to sing it louder and faster...didn't help. Finally at the end of the minute I screamed out "SANTA RIDES IN ONE YOU ASSHOLE!" Santa was one of the five forbidden words and I thought that had ended my short-lived Taboo career.
Now that I'm older and more mature (yeah, right) I felt I could handle it this time. No real eruptions, at least not from me anyways, and Spanish Tabu was rather fun. It's not nearly as hard to talk around some things in spanish as I thought, especially since that's what you do most of the time when learning a new language. The other fun difference in the game, besides the oh-so-cute spelling, is that instead of an electronic buzzer this game has a squeaky dog chew toy.

I'VE GOT ANOTHER MEETING WITH THE BOBS
I never thought I could have likened teaching to an office job, but I was wrong. You know that scene in Office Space where Peterman is meeting with "the Bobs" and tells them straight to their face that he really only works about fifteen solid minutes in a given week? Well, I had one of those moments. Some may argue that Peterman says this because he is still under the hypnotism but given that this occurs long after his original actions I think he says it cause he truly realizes how messed up the system is in that idiots get promoted. He knows that no bad, and perhaps only good, can come from his confession.
So the other day my boss and I were talking of possibly changing my schedule a bit. Currently in the afternoon there are 10 hours of work with children in a given week. Since my position is a bit odd, I work three with the bilingual children (who I love) and four with the sixth grade ESL children (who I like despite the fact the school lets them run all over the teachers). Generally the other two periods would be planning for every teacher, but that only leaves me with 9 hours of work with children. The other contributing factor is that I'm supposed to split my time evenly between the 6th grade classes, working one hour with each of them (there are four each week). Since my bosses never came up with a solution to this problem, I made my own: an extra planning period (and to be fair this was the exact same schedule the person I took over for had).
So as my boss and I are discussing my new schedule she brings up my planning periods: one on monday and one on thursday. Never one to lie, I corrected her and mentioned the additional planning period on Monday. She looked a bit puzzled and murmured how that couldn't be right and that I must be the luckiest teacher in school. I shrugged my shoulders and that was the end of the conversation. Are we calling it luck? There are various words I would use and many more phrases, most of which involve choice four letter words, to describe the situation I'm in and "luck" is not one of them.

RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I love the creation of celebrity from absurdity. Let me specify as I'm not talking about idiotic people like Paris Hilton: I love Yanni. Other than being a musician and looking ridiculous, I know nothing about him. I couldn't tell you one song of his and am only slightly confident he plays the flute (and would imagine its some woodwind with a sillier name like Piccolo). That said, I love Yanni and have no idea why, though think it has something to do with the 1/2 hour infomercials I used to watch when I was sick from school. The other day I found a folded up Yanni shirt in my laundry and was thrilled. This wasn't a cd release or even a concert shirt, it simply had a picture of Yanni on the front and his name scrolled down the side. I can't explain it but I thought I had been blessed by the gods, I immediately put it on and headed for our night out in a jazz club. My bubble was burst, however, when my roommate informs me that it actually belongs to our mutual friend beth and wasn't just a random gift the laundry gods had mixed into my clothes. The following is a verbatim text dialogue that transpired and I promise alcohol had no influence in the conversation.

Daniel: Do you own a Yanni shirt?
Beth: Dude that my prize possession. Dont let anything happen to it. Im wearing that to my dissertation defense
D: wearin it now And lovin it! Funny story, may be mine now!
B: No effing way buddy. Anne even asked me where it was when she was here. Id give you my grandmothers wedding band but not the yanni shirt
D: Sold!
B: Ps Anne says he looks like me if I transitioned to male. He creepily does look exactly like my cousin.
D: Good you can take a picture of him and put it on a shirt until your grandamas ring gets here
B: R u drunk?
D: Drunk on yanni awesomeness!
B: Listen, I'd really love to give it to u but it was the first thing anne gave me when we started dating. Sentimental value and all
D: I thought the idiot laundry ladies put it with my stuff by accident (fate) and was so excited!
B: Haha nope. I am the idiot in this case.
D: But now Im more let down than that xmas where my parents told me they gave my super nintendo to charity.

Next day
Daniel to Beth: I'm wearing it again. You need to take this thing away from me! I have a sickness...Save me from myself!

Postscript: Beth and I have since worked out a joint custody agreement for the shirt.

Mendoza

As I've returned to my faux-reality from my vacation in Mendoza exhausted and unmotivated, I really start to worry about my re-entry into the real world, whenever that may be.

Laura and I embarked on our journey at 8pm on Wednesday. Laura, by the way, is a good friend of mine and another rotary scholar. Standing at just under five feet and one of the few who can go toe-to-toe with me in terms of inappropriateness, I knew she was going to be a great travel companion.

What I did not know until I arrived here, however, is that South America is not like Europe (duh!). The rail system is almost completely defunct and the one south american low-cost airline is laughable. No weekend jet sets "across the pond" here, if you want to travel you either need to shell out the time or the money. Since I'm broke, I chose the former. A thirteen hour bus ride is never anything to look forward to, but man, the Argentines know how to travel in style. This bus was literally the equivalent to a first-class airline: leather seats that recline to an entire bed, food, movies, and free booze.



Surprisingly, I didn't get much sleep and Laura and I decided to make Thursday a lazy day around the town. Never one to relax for too long, things picked up quite a bit on Friday. For those of you who don't know, Mendoza is not only an interesting little city just west of the Andes/Chile border, it is also Argentine wine country. As there are approximately 35 vineyards in the surrounding area there are quite a few offers from companies offer tours. Which to choose: bus? taxi for hire? rickshaw? Oh, there it is! Bicycles.


Myself, Rowan (our hostel mate), and Laura ready to rock

Biking through wine country, however, did not prove at romantic as I had previously idealized. Instead of gingerly strolling through vineyards, stopping to picnic or pluck grapes we fought gears on our crappy bikes as we made our way down a semi-paved (read: full of pot holes) road littered with truck traffic. Strong-willed and quite thirsty, I was not going to let this 12km loop of pollution ruin my time, I was on vacation.

We initially made our way all the way down to the last vineyard (there were 6) in the loop, figuring it would be better to work our way back up (read: less distance to ride after consuming copious amounts of wine). This vineyard, Carinae, was amazing. Not only was the tour guide informative, she was quite cute and didn't seem to mind myself, Rowan, and even Laura drooling over her. The two fun facts I learned from here are that:

1) they plant rose bushes next to the vineyards since roses are generally susceptible to the same illnesses as grapes, so if something happens to the roses it forewarns them about the vines.

2) Since they were a smaller vineyard, they couldn't compete in quantity, meaning they had to focus on quality. To do so, as the grapes came in they cut one of the two bushels off the vine so that all of the nutrients could be focused into that one set of grapes. Pretty interesting.

We tried three half glasses here and liked them all. They also let me sample their premium brand (a 100 peso bottle, probably about $100 US in the states) for ten pesos. Although I loved it, it made me realize that I am nowhere near the point that I can appreciate such a good bottle of wine.

The rest of the day was filled with cycling, sweating, and consumption. The highlight came when we stopped for lunch at this restaurant setup and run by a couple of Canadians. What can only be described as an oasis, Dumaine Du Mont is everything you would expect wine country to be. A little house with a beautiful yard, a rap around porch and magnificent view of the Andes...I didn't want to leave.




A minimum of two pictures still can't do this place justice. Sorry if it appears crooked, I think my computer is on a contact drunk from the wine seeping out of my pores.

After a long day in the sun, we spent the better part of the late afternoon and early evening resting up. Additionally, we knew we had a long day full of adventure ahead of us the next day so we threw all of our efforts behind the BBQ our hostel was hosting Friday night. Nothing too exiting, except that when you offer Laura and me all you can drink booze, we are going to get our money's worth. Having spent the day with Rowan and downing about 3 bottles a piece by dinner time, we were all working off a synergy that not even Stephen Covey could explain. Of the twelve or so people at our table, most were British (I love the british because nothing ever appalls them) and the rest we won over through wine, because by the end of the night people were choking on their food laughing so hard at just about anything that came out of our mouths. I guess most had thought we were a couple (big mistake) when we first came in, which we chose to clarify not by outright declaration, but with various jabs at each other to the likes of "say that again and I will kick you right in the crotch" and "sleep lightly my friend." That’s the PG rated version at least, good fun.

SATURDAY
Not nearly as hung-over as we should have been, we headed out to the mountains for a day of adventure with trekking and kayaking. I wanted to white-water raft but the river is lazy this time of the year...kayaking was equally as boring though. Even though the trek was nothing spectacular (a little hike through a hill) our half way point ended at a small waterfall.



This waterfall really wasn't anything to shake a stick at (coming from a person who has shaken many a stick), but the cool part was that we got to rappel down the wall just to the left of it (as seen in the picture).



Same story for the afternoon/early evening: rest up and a little bit of food. We actually ended up meeting a few people from Buenos Aires in our trek and decided to meet up with them that night. Saturday was quite possible one of the dumbest things I have done in my life, though I can't post it quite yet as it requires at least one picture that I am waiting on from the local Portenos. Sorry to keep you in suspense but it will be up within the week.


RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I've always wanted to have somebody "sock it to me." Having not been a child of the seventies and never really doing hard core drugs, I can only imagine what this would be like. I theorize that this "socking it to someone" is almost like a state of enlighten that usually takes place on a dance floor. Two people on the dance floor become lost in the sacred art of dance, nothing else is important: the music, others around, the copious amount of sweat pouring from their bodies. Then all of a sudden one of the pairs does some sort of move that resembles a "fatality move" from Mortal Kombat (without the actual killing part) and all is known in the world. I figure it's either that or an STD, in which case I would politely decline.

TWO IN A ROW!

That's right, like a Phoenix reborn from the ashes of a fallen typist I have been reborn into the blogger I once was. In celebration of these two consecutive weeks of toil I have decided to reward myself with a vacation to wine country: Mendoza. I'll be gone all weekend which means after this post I probably won't be able to post again until next Monday (9/15) in the evening time.

Also, be sure to check out my "random thought of the week" section all the way at the bottom. It's new and I figured it would be great for those who are too lazy to read the entire blog but still need the weekly reminder of just how random I can be sometimes.

CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY ACTUALLY PLAY FOOTBALL WITH A FOOT?

It was at 5:30 on Tuesday morning when I felt as if I were coming out of a dream-like state. As it turns out, I was coming out of a dream-like state. The mere shock of waking up a full two and a half hours before my earliest rise time sent a severe shock to my system. As a lumbered to the bathroom to brush my teeth I began to think of several reasons why I should crawl back into bed; these rational thoughts, however, were quickly brushed aside. I was on a mission. Proud of myself for only taking three tries to dress myself correctly (it's usually only two when I'm fully awake) I set forth on my journey.
As I stepped out into the Argentine predawn I saw the city as I had never seen it before. Solitude. It took over two blocks before I ran into a night watchmen and a few newspaper kiosks preparing themselves for business...Buenos Aires is not a morning city. A few metro stops and a quick cab ride later I was in line, frustrated by the wait but keeping my cool and sense of purpose. An hour passes and at last I have them: tickets to the World Cup South American Qualifier, Argentina vs. Paraguay. The game transpired this past saturday and went a little something like this:

The weather forecast for the week was supposed to have rain on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, but as our luck would have it the gods decided to smite us by holding it all off until saturday: game day. On what was possibly the worst day of the year here Adam, Natalie (Adam's girlfriend) and I met up at 3:30 in the afternoon to head to the game. In hindsight it was pretty silly of us to leave only a half hour for what should be a twenty minute transit, but that's always 20/20 right? During the second half of our journey our rather friendly cabbie, I'll call him Smiles, decides that since it's cold and rainy we should probably walk a few extra blocks to the stadium, you know, to heat up our core temperature. I think this was the rational decision and it certainly saved him both time and income. After three tries we found the right gate and made our way up to our seats. About fifteen minutes late, getting to our seats was completely unmanageable. New plan: find a high perch for the first half, watch from there, then regroup at half time to attain our seats.

The seating organization of this stadium can only be described as a fire marshal’s seventh circle of hell: all the seats were packed, including aisles and any sort of exits. Police officers, more concerned with the field than safety or general well being, were leading the charge. Jamming our way through this sea of people, we finally found a limited view from a few steps. Not the best vantage point, but it would have to do. Half time: As my head is near icicle status I depart to buy some sort of comfort device. I find a neck warmer that has a draw string so you can make it into a beanie, best fifteen pesos I ever spent.* Returning to my amigos we scout out our seats, only to be told that the game was oversold, which threw the seating chart right out of the window. Apparently people got there hours before the game to squat in seats that weren't theirs so you'd have to tip them if you wanted to seats. Functional right? We spent the second half in an aisle, but at least had a complete view. Argentina played great and, despite being a man down, actually came back to tie it. Unfortunately I hadn't brushed up on my football terminology so I was a little unclear as to the vocabulary being used by the genteel folk around me, but think I pieced it together through context clues. They are, as follows:

Argentina team members are either called:
Che- a common nickname like "man" or "dude" here
their own name: Messi, Tevez, you pick it

Head Referee: Puta - something to the like of "noble official I trust your judgment"
Side judges: hijo de puta - I recognize that you are a person of high authority, and although your stature is not as great as the referee, in you I trust.

Opposing Players:
de puta madre- worthy competitor
concha de tu madre- squadron of worthy competitors

Please keep in mind these are rough translations.

*more specifically: best fifteen pesos I ever spent in Argentina, on that specific day. The thing is a piece of crap.

Despite braving the elements, the game was awesome.


THE SAGA CONTINUES

Meandering to school on Monday I wondered as to my fate in the Argentine Education system. Half hoping the situation was forgotten I set about my work: it was a planning day. As I was called into the directors' office for another meeting, the other half of me was expecting Oompa Loompas to come out and cart me off to a catchy tune. Still unsure of the what will be coming out of their mouths, I was astonished to hear them propose that I work with first graders. The next few minutes are a little hazy as my mind tried to digest how it could be preferable that someone thought to "abuse power" should work with smaller, more defenseless individuals. I guess they took my silence as a yes, done deed. Walking away I added anger to my befuddlement as they were treating a symptom instead of the root cause (that being the 6th graders with no discipline or structure). Nonetheless, I had decided to pick my battles and one involving logic or rationality I would surely lose. The rest of the week transpires and it slightly unbelievable.

Tuesday: The directors have not checked with first grade so they send me to sixth grade who sends me back to the directors since they thought I was supposed to be with first grade yet I somehow end up in sixth grade. I know, my brain hurts too. I do nothing.

Wednesday: I'm sent to first grade to see if they need help. The teacher is surprised but more than willing to have company. Although the little ones are adorable and looked to me as if I were Theseus, slayer of the Minotaur, my only contribution in class that day was helping the teacher spell doughnut (or donut for us vagabonds), the 21st of our "Dippy Duck" words.

Thursday: Having forgot all about our previous conversations, the directors act as if I am still with sixth grade and call me into a planning meeting with the other teachers. We are discussing laughable discipline measures (essentially writing down what students do, then doing nothing with it) when a teacher walks in and interrupts. Apparently she has found a tin in the yard that is worthy of the director's attention. It looks exactly like this:



Astonished but not surprised (the school does go all the way up to seventh grade after all) we all start to joke about it. Being the only guy in the room I bare the full brunt of the humor, with the other teacher asking me if I was the one that brought it, etc etc ha ha ha. Suddenly, curiosity sets in and the other teacher desires to see what the mints actually look like. Upon removal of a lid two things were discovered: 1) an absence of nipple mints (could this void in life ever really be filled?), and 2) the presence of a baggy filled with a greenish brown substance.

The baggy becomes the new subject of our wonderment as the other members of our planning group postulate its contents. Upon one whiff I know exactly what it is: marijuana. The director refuses to believe it as she keeps repeating "de la Tierra" (from the earth), which I confirm, but add that it's pot. I begin to laugh internally at the possibilities of our upcoming conversation, especially since it's in spanish, but also am a little worried they may think its me. In the states, anyone who's been to college or a concert can recognize the smell of pot, and I'd actually be worried if you weren't able to. Here, I think that's a different story (coke is the drug of choice). I spend about five minutes convincing her when my spidey sense told me that Director #2 walked in (the room is not collectively dumber). In unison the three of us give her the tin and instructed her. Look at it. Open it. Smell it. She doesn't believe it either and actually goes as far as to open the baggy and take it out. It's somewhat bricklike so she suggests hashish, with my counter point again being pot (or crappy pot if its all jammed together). She responds with an oh so convincing "hashish," prompting the other teacher has to ask exactly what hashish is. Between the look on her face, the look the directors gave each other, and the lack of a real response I'd place the probability that both directors smoked hashish back in the day around 98%. This explains a lot.

Friday: Nothing comes of the pot scandal. I'm sure the tin is still in the directors’ office though unsure of the status of its contents.

One of the sixth grade teachers is sick so Director 1 calls me in to tell me I have to fill in. At the end of her pump up speech she gives me an aside saying "if you feel like you want to murder them just call me, I'll be with second (grade) today." Normally I would be incensed by such a comment but I guess I have earned the reputation of being a bit of a hot head the past couple weeks by running around, tearing my shirt off, and yelling "HULK SMASH!"



RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I am the only one that thinks VP nominee Sarah Palin looks astonishingly like Elaine from Seinfield? As there would be only one true way to prove or disprove her true identity I would suggest a VP candidate dance off. Think about it, Biden and Palin head to head. One song: Earth, Wind and Fire's Shining Star. Not only would this put to rest any conspiracy theories as to a candidates true identity, I believe "sweet dance moves" is a very valuable leadership characteristic and would go a long way in winning over the public.

Hello Blogger My Old Friend

APOLOGIES ALL AROUND
There really is no excuse for my lameness and all I can say is that short of a computer meltdown (or economic collapse), it won't happen again. In order to make up for my incompetence the next round of drinks is on me...charge it to underhill.

QUICK UPDATES-NIECE
During my brief hectic amazing trip back to the US I finally got to meet my god-daughter and niece. Those of you who are amateur uncle's out there might be thinking "but Daniel, what are the benefits of having such a child in your life, other than the obvious Marlon Brandow impersonations?" Well my gentle friends the answer is simple yet inexplicable: your life is better. I have no idea how or why, but it is. Joys and connections that I've never really felt before all rush into my thoughts and emotions, and this was before even meeting the little one. Other side benefits include: getting all the fun time without diaper duty, a quick reminder that I am far too irresponsible to have one of my own, and getting to see what curse words I'll teach her when she's older (and in what language!)



She's gonna be a socca playa!

QUICK UPDATES- WEDDING
Another reason I came back to the good ole US of A was that a great friend of mine, Jimmy Loughran, was getting married. This was a really tough decision for me as I am missing seven, count 'em, seven weddings this year on the whole. Although all of them are meaningful and I regret not being able to go to all of them, this one really just seemed to work out. Seeing as it was during both my University and Work vacation and I was a groomsman, I really had no excuse not to go. The whole weekend was amazing as I got to reacquaint with many friends while watching one of my closest get married. The wedding was lovely and the bride, Amy, was glowing. Oh yeah, and debauchery ensued. I can't remember everything about the night but am pretty sure I won a dance contest (and may have pulled a muscle doing so), the groom took over the role as bartender (without permission) at a now closed bar (wonder why) and Schambach- another member of the wedding party- may have revealed his true redneck self as he set the record in Big Buck Hunter. Words don't do it justice, but pictures just may! Be sure to check out my picture link, but here's a little sample:



I shit you not I picked this up off the professional photographer's website, and he's a good one too. I'm assuming he posted it because: a) he has a good sense of humor, b) he loves good beer, or c) he knows that this is what being a groomsman is really all about. I get a kick out of the fact that soon-to-be brides will check out this site and see me hand feeding jimmy precious fat tire beer as his bride looks on in amusement (Jimmy, that's how you know she's a keeper).

QUICK UPDATE- LOCKS O'LOVE
I guess I wasn't clear enough when growing my hair as many did not realize I would be donating it to this oh so noteworthy cause. It certainly wasn't because I wanted to be called fabio, blond jesus, insert girls name here, el rubio, or many other ridiculous things. After two solid years my hair made it to twelve inches long, meaning I had enough to get a ten inch pony to donate to those in need. If you're unfamiliar with the cause, google it as it's a good one. In the mean time, enjoy the before and afters:


BEFORE:


Ok, so I look like one of Hans Gruber's henchmen from the early 90's action classic Die Hard, but I had just gotten off 24 hours of travel and it was a surprise shot so cut me some slack!

AFTER:


The stylist was a bit befuddled when I had no idea as to what "style" I sported, other than "I cut it myself," but she done good and the hair got donated.

SPECIAL THANKS TO: Carolyn Taylor, an amazing stylist in Austin Texas who maintained my mane throughout the two years.
Melinda Hanzel, for taking care of all the arrangements of my final hair appointment since I was out of the country


DANIEL OWENS, CHILD ABUSER
Go ahead, read it again. Let me start this one off with just a few tidbits of information, the first being that I have never, nor will ever raise a hand to any student for any form of discipline. To follow that up, I would like to tell you how I was called into my directors'(there's two) office this past friday to have "a talk." During this talk, the words "child abuse," "abuse of power," and "the children thought you were going to hit them" all came up. What sort of reckless behavior could warrant such a brash reaction you ask? Has Daniel finally lost it? Flipped and gone postal on some unsuspecting and innocent argentine children. Well my unsuspecting audience, let me fill you in on the dirty deed: I made the children put their heads down on their desk. That's right, after thirty minutes of unmanageable behavior and zero learning I had the children put their heads down on their desk to calm down before writing an apology letter.
I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself here. Few of you probably knew that I was working at a local argentine middle school that I am yet to describe. Although I fully intend to recount various tales to you in later entries, for now let's just say that this school makes Montessori look like Leavenworth and the the mere utterance of the word discipline sends shutters down the parents' spine of every child who has no concept of right or wrong. It's also worth mentioning that my two school director's are complete idiots, but that would really be underselling it. The dumber one, who's IQ score is further left than Ralph Nader, was actually the one that dropped the "the children thought you were going to hit them" line. When twidle-dee saw the reaction on my face and how I was about to multi-syllabically tear this lady a new one, she immediately tossed that charge out. I'd love to tell you how the rest of the meeting went but I was too drunk off power and stumbled out of the room as I made my way to an orphanage where I denied Oliver and Annie their gruel while simultaneously making them pick their own switches. man im good.

Terrible

So I've fallen off the wagon a bit with the blog. A combination of a slow-down in activities, mid-terms, and illness, has left me un-inspired and looking for ways to shake things up a bit.

DRAMA
One thing I do love is how big of a production Argentines make out of everything! In my french class there is a cd that goes along with the book, but of course since everyone just have illegal photocopies of the book nobody has the cd. Since we need to practice our phonetics we needed the cd, so one lady wanted to buy it and make copies for everyone. Up unto this point everyone was in agreement and all was well in the world. The problem we encountered, however, was how many students we actually had in the class. About 20 were on the register and five were absent. It took us fifteen minutes to discuss how many of those five were actually absent or had dropped the class. Everyone had an opinion and wanted to be heard, forgetting the fact that the difference in price we were actually talking about was 1 peso. After the fifteen minutes the teacher called a halt to the discussion, which was then picked up after class. I had to leave in hopes of not being rude and just laughing at the hysterics of it all.

PARO
The strike is back on! It has been modified, however, in hopes of keeping the people on the side of the farm workers. As far as I can tell, they are still stopping goods in the road, but only those destined for export and this is only supposed to last for 10 days, sort of as a show of strength sort of thing. I actually haven't read too much about it but will try to research it a bit and fill you in.

LEMONS EVERYWHERE
A pictures worth a thousand words so just gander at this pic of a truck that over-turned on an overpass and showered the road with citrusy goodness. I wish I could find video of the news reporting/cleanup as it was dramatic (see first top) and also so inefficient.



VOLCANO
One erupted far south of here in Chile, but the effects have made their way up to Buenos Aires. Although there has been no changes to the air quality and we haven't had any "ash rain" (see below) but apparently there is still some debris in the atmosphere. Some major airlines cancelled flights into Buenos Aires and problems, though less severe, could persist for months.

Below is a picture of a river side in a Chilean city and that's not snow, its ash. The same effects happened to some cities in southern Argentina.





The first few pictures from this site are of a lightning storm during the volcano and they are absolutely spectacular.

http://megagalerias.terra.cl/galerias/index.cfm?id_galeria=30734

What a Week

BIG NEWS!

I'm an Uncle! Maya Marguerite Owens was born on Monday, April 21st at 8:06 AM, weighing in at 6 lbs and 2 oz. Mother, Father, and baby are all happy, healthy, and full of joy (as am I). Pictures to come soon :)

2 Packs a Day

This week started off like any other...until Tuesday, that's when the smoke rolled in. I wasn't surprised for two reasons: 1) This is Argentina and I'm finally learning that I shouldn't be surprised by anything, and 2) there was actually a little bit of smoke last week. It turns out the smoke last week was from a massive trash fires in one of the Villas (ie slums) that burns its trash every so often to make room. I was not prepared, however, for what Buenos Aires had for me this time: Malos Aires. A quick comparison:

This is a picture of buenos aires from my balcony after a storm, so it still wasn't even that clear:



This is a picture of a standard day with the Humo (smoke):



Imagine that for six days straight, it was horrendous! Sleeping with the windows shut and still waking up like you slept next to a camp fire. Headaches, coughs, sore throats and various other symptoms ran through the city with complete lawlessness. Why you ask? The cause is clear while the underlying factors are a bit more muddled. Fires in the delta that span approximately 150,000 acres are apparently burning out of control. The area is about 200 km north/northwest of the city but southern stagnant winds have brought the smoke down here and let the city marinate in it for awhile. First reports made mention of two arrested for suspicion of starting the fire, while later reports blame the fires on farmers. The government has come out saying the farmers started the fires as a "slash and burn" technique with the intent of restoring nutrients to farmland, or also that they were clearing area for cattle to graze.

If you recall my post about the Campo strike, you'll understand why I say that these allegations run much deeper than that. The Campo and government negotiations are coming to a close and the government is doing some serious finger-pointing in hopes of turning the people against the farmers. The gist of their message is: look at what the farmers have done to you and this city, see how they only care about themselves? The farmers struck back by saying that A) they did not start the fires, and B) the government has the resources to put the fires out but chooses not to in hopes of further blaming the Campo. Both sides have legitimate arguments but it's hard to believe either one. A slash and burn fire sounds logical and sometimes they get out of hand, it's just unfortunate that the winds acted as they did. Clearing room for cattle, however, makes no sense. The region that we are talking about is a delta, similar to that of Chesapeake/Tidewater and not suited for cattle. I'm sure the truth lies somewhere in between but also see this as a strong indicator that perhaps the Campo issue will not be settled as amicably as everyone had hoped.
-More pictures on the Picture link

La Quinta

Literally "the country house," or villa. There was a Rotary district conference this week and all of the scholars were asked to give a quick speech about who they were and what they were doing. It was fun meeting some of the higher ups within the organization from different parts of the world (spain, japan, etc.) and our counselors invited us to a picnic the next day at one of the member's country houses. The place was marvelous. About 35 miles outside of the city it was similar to a farm house: some flowers, a few acres, and some fruit trees. There were about 25 of us in total and we passed the day relaxing, talking, eating, drinking, playing soccer, and enjoying the beautiful weather. In other words, it was a near perfect day and something that I truly needed to re-charge my batteries. I personally like the energy of the big city but also need to see green and have some space to breath. A great ending to a pretty miserable week, topped off of course by the birth of my niece..
-Pictures on the picture link

Free Tibet? I'll take it!

So I'm guessing that most of you know the biggest news that happened here in the past week: the arrival of the Olympic Torch. Buenos Aires was the only South American country that played host to the torch during its five continent tour. Although there was quite a bit of excitement leading up to it (Paris riots, San Fran demonstrations, promises of "something news worthy occurring") it all seemed to go rather smoothly. I use the word "seemed" as I didn't actually get to see the Torch since I had French class, but was able to gather a lot from the events before, the news, and my roommate who went (thanks for the pictures Patrick). The torch arrived Thursday night, April 10th, under the cloak of secrecy and although it may well have just been Argentina's lack of information systems, the complete route wasn't revealed until Friday morning. Some minor demonstrations took place but nothing to write home (or blog) about. The torch itself was under heavy protection and was generally accompanied by a secret-service like escort (minus the sweet sunglasses, ear pieces, and suits). I have a few pictures of the events leading up to the torch passing and one of the runner after. The reason he isn't enveloped in a mass of security is that he's already passed the flame along.

Tropa de Elite
On one of the more casual nights here this week my friends and I decided to go see a Brazilian film titled "Tropa de Elite," or Elite Squad. It was a bit of a gamble considering the entire film is in Portuguese, with Spanish subtitles but figured it was a good opportunity to practice both my Spanish and Portuguese. Other than the fact that the subtitles were white and impossible to see at times when the backdrops were also white, it turned into a pretty good experience. More so than the academic aspect, however, was the filmatic experience. This movie was amazing! Though not for the weak of heart/stomach, it was absolutely sensational. It follows a group of Police officers called BOPE (imagine SWAT combined with Israeli clandestine services) through their struggles to curb narcotics trafficking and overall violence in Rio de Janiero. The film highlights the struggle between this small elite group of officers, a larger group of corrupt police, and the drug lords. It's violent, but not over the top and it's not only tells a great story, but highlights a social issue. I'd highly recommend it to anyone who can handle a fair amount of violence and non-stop intensity, though I'm unsure as to where you'll find it. It had a limited release in the states in January and is being presented at the Tribeca Film Festival in April, so keep an eye out for it.

FUN FACT: There's some sort of intentional loophole setup by the Brazilian government that allows their international companies to write-off profits by donating money to the independent film industry. This movie was sponsored by PetroBras (Brazilian petroleum) and various others, and for this reason the Brazilian Independent Film industry has been absolutely booming over the past decade and a half).

Maggie and Marquis
I had a few more friends in town this past weekend that were staying down near Avenida de Julio with some other mates. Maggie and Marquis are both seasoned travelers and did quite a bit of venturing on their own (or with the others), and every time we managed to meet up a grand time ensued. One of our highlights was a trip to the Japanese Gardens (see pictures). Although relatively small, they were both beautiful and tranquil. In fact, the only real complaint I have with them is the domestication of the animals within the park, which I guess is a common trend among highly trafficked areas. Pigeons would just be walking around, there was this duck that would come right up to you and ask for food, and the fish would literally beg. This proved to be both hilarious and freaky. At one point Maggie lectures the duck on how he needs to earn the food by jumping in the water (see pic), and all of us observing got a kick out of it while not so secretly hoping the duck might become agitated, resulting in Maggie falling in the water. The fish, however, will haunt my dreams. When you walk along the bring they swim up and open their mouths, then when you put food in water, a hoard of them swim atop each other to get it, resulting in some of the Carp literally being out of the water since they're on top of the other fish (see pic). The only other place I've seen this is Lake Mead, which backs up to the Hoover Dam, and I've spent three years of my life trying to repress it. But I digress. Saturday night Maggie, Marquis, and I went out to a nice Parilla and tried a variety of meets, including lower intestines (a first for all, though I wouldn't recommend it). We then made our way to my friend’s place, who was having a party in celebration of finishing the first part of her doctoral thesis. The party died down around 330/4 and Maggie and Marquis headed home, thinking the night was over. Silly me, I ended up going out to club "Big Ones," whose name rivals the absurdity of its patrons. I have very little tolerance for clubs but decided to give it the old college try (since I’m in college again, right?). Although I can't say it was the most fun I've head, we did end up staying there until 8AM, and out until 9 AM. For those of you who've been following the blog a late night/early morning is nothing new to the nightlife here; however, generally my late nights result in me making it home just as the sun comes up. It was quite a harrowing experience to walk out of near darkness and into complete daylight and I certainly don't plan on making that a common ritual.

The Last Two Weeks

Since I only spoke of the Campo Strike last week I intend to bring everyone up to speed on the last two weeks here in Buenos Aires.

Campo: A thirty day truce was arranged between the Government and the Farmers, allowing supplies back into the city. Even though this occurred at the beginning of last week, meats have slowly been trickling in and some shelves still appear barren. Prices have increased drastically, especially on the effected produce, and inflation numbers for March (which should officially come out at the end of April) are forecasted at a minimum of 3%. Although this truce brings hope to a peaceful resolution the conflict itself highlights mistrust and ill will amongst social classes and between some social classes and the government.

Futbol news: Apparently my friends and I picked the right game to go to. The following River Plate game ended in a riot and at least one man in the hospital in critical condition. Apparently there has been a massive increase in futbol violence here as of late, and this happened to be one of the most violent outbursts in recent memory. Those of you that know futbol, and futbol hooligans, probably don't think much of it, but there are two things that stand out that I can't seem to wrap my mind around: 1) River Plate won, so why were they rioting? 2) The fight was between two groups of River Plate fans, so why were they fighting? I'm still trying to fix my link connector on this blog so if you want to read more, just cut and paste
http://wwwr2.goal.com/en/Articolo.aspx?ContenutoId=641044

Mike and Andrew: Mike Brennan and Andrew Pearsons made it into town for a little over a week in the end of March and we had an absolute blast. They came in right after Semana Santa (holy week) so things were a bit more subdued than usual but we still managed to make quite a week out of it. I'm slowly starting to realize that Buenos Aires, as amazing of a city as it is, is somewhat limited in its nightlife choices. There's eating, drinking, and dancing, and that's about it. Don't get me wrong, I love all three, but it's a tough adjustment coming from LA where a night at the bars was the backup plan. Nonetheless, I tried my best to show them some of my favorite spots, and we even tried a few new ones. Too much steak was eaten, too much vino and cerveza imbibed, and too much fun was had.

Classes: The last week of March was also my last week of Spanish classes, which I was happy about since now I feel like I can actually start to learn Spanish again. Although that concept seems bass akwards, let me explain: not only was my Spanish school lacking, but due to several errors I was committed to a situation where I was taking too many hours of class each day. That led to stress and frustration and me being a not so motivated student. Since I wasn't motivated and the school was lacking, my Spanish has pretty much been in a holding pattern for three weeks. This last week was my first without and it was absolutely fantastic. I spent most of this week just resting as I felt like I've been on a seven week binder. I've also started taking Portuguese and French classes, both conducted at an introductory level and in Spanish. That brings my course load up to 12 hours per week and I'm starting to realize that I'm going to need to find many new hobbies in order to keep myself from going insane. I do like both my Portuguese and French classes though. Not only am I learning two additional languages, but also meeting new people. The problem with most university classes here is that they are generally very large and you usually don't end up having more than 2 or 3 of the same classes with a person ever. In sum, it's much less of a community and it's much harder to meet people. These language classes, however, are much smaller and everyone is on the same level of vulnerability since they are new to the language.

Social: This week was actually pretty sedated as I spent about a four day span in complete detox. It's very hard, however, to teach an old dog new tricks. Friday night was one of our friend's (Michaela) birthday and we had to go out and celebrate. We went to bar Jobs which appeared to be somewhere in between a dive bar and a nicer bar, in other words, my kind of style. The highlight of the evening was Foosball. Not just any old Foosball my friend, HUGE foosball. These tables were massive and fit three people on each side. I didn't bring my camera out that night (like most nights) so I'll have to go back sometime soon just to take a picture of this table. Saturday was spent in the park. Parque 3 de Febrero is massive (think Central Park) and has several gardens, a horse racing track, tennis club, polo club, and various other novelties. Since the day was amazing we just found a nice hunk of grass and passed the day with tranquility and bliss. After over-indulgence the previous night I was looking for something a little more low-key on Saturday night. I planned an evening at Shoeless Joe's Alamo, an expat bar that was playing the Final Four. My intent was to go have a couple beers, watch some good basketball, and make it an early night. UCLA's loss, however, changed all of that. After meeting some other expats, drinking too much, making my way to another bar, and getting lost, I'd had enough. I learned a few things that night: 1) I think I've just about hit my capacity for expats, 2) I no longer desire to drink for drinking's sake. I'm not sure if I'll follow through on either of these realizations, but hopefully so.

Blog update: One of the things I'm really going to try to work on now (and in the future) is writing more. After two weeks it's hard to remember some of the amazing things I've seen or done. I'm going to start bringing my journal with me and writing more in hopes that I can better summarize events gone by.

The Rising

Generally I try to provide inside to various aspects of my life down here, but this entry will be dedicated solo to one issue: the rising crisis between the government and the farm workers. The situation itself has been developing for quite some time, though it's really come to a head as of recent.

The Basic Discourse: Argentina's economy has actually been quick to recover since its plummet at the turn of the millennium. Although there are still many areas in need of improvement (inflation, health care, etc.) the country has shown its resilience in maintaining a valued economy. A large reason for such a quick comeback has been the value of agriculture. Not only is Argentina famous for it's beef, but soybean and other products have a great value in both national and international levels. After a few successful years the government has decided to re-arrange the export taxes on said products, essentially raising taxes for "the campo" by 10%. The reasoning for this is sound: The Campo is Argentina's cash cow and the government hopes to raise additional revenues from their success so that they can improve other lagging areas like health care and education. The Campo, however, does not take too kindly to this logic. They see the government as essentially punishing them for their success and don't think they should solely carry the fiscal burden for failing Argentine industries.

The History: About 20 days ago the "farm workers" began a strike. I use the term farm workers, though it actually goes much deeper than that and includes meat and dairy producers too. The strike carried on for 16 days and was located in the "interior,” which is essentially every region outside Buenos Aires, though most events occurred in the northern parts. Not only did production halt, but also workers organized demonstrations, protests, and Cortes (cuts). These Cortes were essentially roadblocks that kept good from reaching their destination (image an 18 wheeler stretched perpendicularly along 95 or the 405, surrounded by 40 plus farm workers not letting any produce pass). By the last week the city was really starting to feel the crunch, shortages began to appear in produces markets and elsewhere.

The Protests: After such a strong showing by the Campo, President Kirschner made her way to the interior to try to resolve the situation peacefully; she failed. I'm not sure of the exact details of what transpired but she essentially told the Campo that she would not give in to threats and would not talk to them again until they stopped the Cortes. It was up until this point (about last Tuesday) when I had only been loosely following the story line. At around 9 PM that evening I hear a few people starting to bang pots and pans. At first I try to figure out where it's coming from and also why they are doing it. I initially think its a celebration of a marriage proposal, or their signal of approval for the new national holiday that was celebrated the preceding Monday. As the noise grew, however, I knew it was something more. The clanking grew and ascended on us from all angles, making their way throughout the city towards various congregations. As we made our way to dinner we saw two of these protests on prominent corners, so large that Police shut down roads within a few blocks of each. The protests were peaceful yet inspiring and pretty much consisted of songs of nationalism and shouts of support for the campo. Although I was still somewhat uniformed as to how or why these were taking place, I felt a bit inspired. Not only were thousands of people out in the streets, but also just about every car was honking their horn in unison to the beat created by pots and pans.

The Bad, The Good, and the Ugly:
BAD: The situation, although it is yet to be diffused, got pretty hairy by the end of last week. Shortages were seen in markets and prices were increasing for most goods, especially produce. Private economists are estimating that inflation for the month will be around 3% (what it is for the US in one year). The strike has also left many indirectly affected without work: mainly industries that support agriculture (transportation, etc.) Also, apparently these protests are not nearly as common as I originally thought. The last time these occurred in such a manner was 2001/2002, right after the currency devaluation when the government was taking extreme measures to control prices and inflation. It's a pretty large signal of mistrust of the government by the people. By the end of last week, most of the Argentine's that I know here were starting to have legitimate fears over the whole situation.

GOOD: The Campo has actually shown a sign of good faith in lifting the Cortes this weekend in order to resume talks on Monday. Supplies have made it into the city and though there has not been a full restock, shelves aren't barren. I'm hoping all goes well with the talks on Monday because this country can't afford the fallout from such a prominent strike.

UGLY: Some of the pro-government supporters actually paid bums 50 pesos (less than 20 US) to go into the protests and try to turn them violent by being vocally disagreeable and even physical with some protesters. Simply sad.

I've got a few quick links you can check out below to read a bit more and actually see one of the many protests. You'll need to copy the link and paste it into a new web page. I am hoping for a good report next week:

YouTube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0b5N5RJR7k&feature=related

BBC Article: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7319903.stm