Brazil!

Venezuela

2009-04-27T08:29:00.000-07:00

I often joke about how I'm going straight to hell, usually for an inappropriate joke I made or for something I did. I might have to change this tongue and cheek remark as Im starting to think Ive already been. I really cant say enough bad things about Venezuela, though I sure can try. It wasnt all negative, however, so lets start out with the positive.

Some highlights:

The hot dogs. Sounds weird, I know, but the way they dress them is an art form where the actual meet takes second stage. Ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and potato crisps are the standard topping, then you have about another 10-16 to choose from. I usually went with processed cheese and hot sauce, Julie took the former and some form of corn. Its funny how much this country loves its toppings, quite the contrast to argentina (pretty much no sauces, ever).

Our trip back to catch our flight was a little shakey. It was Easter weekend, which is pretty much the south american travel equivalent of thanksgiving in the US, except that you can only buy your bus tickets the day of. generally never a problem, but I went early to the station (about 15 hours before we wanted to leave) just in case. What I found looked more like the trading floor of the NYSE than a bus station, pure chaos with all the buses sold out. Our bus was sold out so we collected our things and returned, looking for a private car (much more expensive) but really just hoping to make it back so we could make our flight.

What we ended up finding was much better. It was a bus, one that was not altogether too comfy, but very clean. More important than the bus were the people inside it. Everyone seemed very nice and helpful and we actually ended up sitting next to some Law School students from Caracas. Although there was a language barrier at times, we managed to get along quite quite...the booze helped. They were having a time of it with Rum and Coke, but since I dont drink coke about every 15 minutes theyd offer up a cap full of rum. Julie wasnt as keen on the rum so one of the girls pulled out baileys. Although the never had enough to get intoxicated (they did), it proved a great social lubricant. Before I knew it our bus had turned into a variety show. People were getting up to tell jokes as we were stuck in traffic, one guy had a guitar and led horribly off key (but funny) sing alongs, etc. Julie and I actually became the center of attention as one of the students tried to convince some other individuals we were actually venezuelans posing as americans to trick them all. Babies then starting getting passed around to take pictures with us, we were giving samba dancing lessons while the bus was stuck in traffic, I really cant make this stuff up. Once we arrived the students then took us out for a traditional venezuelan type meal and even treated us! They called us a secure taxi that was half the price of our initial one from the airport and even offered up their place (we refused, had to draw the line somewhere). As tough of an experience as we had in Venezuela, it was so refreshing to experience such a random act of kindness and I will never forget it.

PLEASE NOTE: I would never recommend taking drinks from strangers or following the back to their place, especially not in Venezuela...this was a very special set of circumstances.

THE NOT SO GOOD STUFF

Venezuelas' problems really stem from one main thing: Chavez. I have no doubt he is significantly better than the Caudillo's before him, but that gives him no right to run the country into the ground in hopes of boosting his own ego. From Chavez comes the currency problem. In order to curb growing inflation a few years back, the Venezuelan Bolivar was pegged to the US dollar at a rate of 2.15 to 1. Although inflation was somewhat tamed, its still high and the rate has become a farce. So much so, in fact, that just about anywhere you go there is a parallel (illegal but common) market for US dollars at a rate of around 5 to 1.

For tourists this is a problem because if you want to do venezuela on the cheap, you have to walk around with all the cash you are planning to spend for the entire vacation. Considering Venezuela is the most dangerous of South American countries, this isnt realy a good idea. For Venezuelans this is a problem because everything is sold at the parallel rate, making prices absurdly high. I can only presume that Chavez has used oil money to help appease the masses. Gas is priced at nearly free ($1 US to fill up your tank) and oil revenues are used to lower taxes and give money to those in need. This was all well and good when oil was $150 a barrel, but at one third of that Chavez is going to have to make some tough changes. My fears are as follows: currency gets depegged and collapses, chavez reduces social welfare programs and raises taxes thus becoming unpopular, refuses to give up control and becomes dictator type (by force if necessary).

OTHER TOURIST THINGS

You wont read much about Venezuela online, as most people either dont go there or those that do try to forget it. Its a shame really, cause a fair amount of the people seem good and helpful. They are, however, overshadowed by the massive amount of crime and the seedy underbelly. Id say Gotham City would be a good comparison, if the readers dont mind me summoning my inner comic book nerd. We spent most of our time in the Caribbean, on Margarita Islans and along the coast (palay colorada). Both are considered treasures but what we saw was trashed lined roads and beaches filled with litter. Some interesting security measures were instituting along our journey. To exchange what was about $7 US officially (before I knew of the black market) I not only had to give my name and passport number (plus a copy), but also my finger print. Addiditionally, on our way to the beach our bus would stop and everyone wuold have to get out for a luggage search and full scale pat down. Men with gun had all the males line up, hands on the bus, legs spread where they made sure you werent packing heat. Although there method could be described as quite thorough (or "all up in my junk") it actually made me feel less safe). Unless things change significantly in terms of politics, economics, and infrastructure, I really wouldnt recommend this country to anyone. Even these "beautiful places" that we were supposed to have seen were tarnished and hard to enjoy as we never felt comfortable.

Ill leave you with a comparison of costs to hammer to point home on just how expensive venezuela is.

Columbia: 6 nights, all in decent and comfortable hostels. Took taxis almost everywhere and ate a large majority of our meals in restaurants. Did laundray, stocked up on supplies (dry goods, shampoo, etc.) Saw sights, went to museums, and paid for excursions. Total cost per person per week: $200

Venezuela. 7 nights, 2 spent in a hilton hotel (free from points), another free as we slept in the airport. Two of the four night of paid lodging were in places visiting by working girls and johns, and the other two were spent in a commune type place where i slept in a hammock (or didnt sleep, rather). We are out once, breakfast. The rest of the meals werent realy even cooked, they were generally peanut butter sandwiches. Depleted supplies, no laundry, walked everywhere. Saw very few sights and paid no entrance fees (couldnt afford it). Total cost per person per week: $300.

Columbia

2009-04-20T07:53:00.000-07:00

This country has come a long way from the days of Pablo Escobar, and even from the havoc of the early and mid-90´s. Safety and security have increased exponentially, allowing much of the culture-rich environment to shine through.

BOGOTA

Our flight was due in around 730, leaving me just enough time to gather my bags and get to the hostel before the dreaded 10pm hour. Fate, however, had different plans. Our flight was delayed out of Panama, putting my arrival time at 1030...the curse continues. In addition to our room being just above some sort of party room, I awoke to a little late night rendezvous in the bunk below. My bed was literally shaking; had I been in LA, I would have thought it an earthquake. After an extended throat clearing (much too long to be anything but a signal for STOP) they stopped. Paused is actually a better word as 20 seconds later the fun continued. Fortunately for me (and unfortunately for him), it didnt last a whole lot longer.

Nonetheless, I didnt let it deter me from enjoying the city. Thus far, Bogota is the nicest metro area that Ive been too and it has quite a lot to offer. We did a walking tour and ended at the gold museum, which was nice, but may have actually been an overabundance of gold. A few examples below:

We also stopped by Plaza Bolivar, which houses the legislative branch and parts of the justice department. This plaza has been plagued by violence over the past thirty years with bombings, shootings, and hostage situations. You can actually see the steeple of an adjacent church chock-full ´o bullet holes.

Part of Plaza Bolivar, minus the bullet holes

We also went ahead and toured the police museum, which is one of the better tours ive taken down here. The tour is free and right away you are greeted by a far too young columbian soldier speaking broken english. Service is mandatory in Columbia, though just for a year. The guides are friendly and very informative. The first half of the tour takes you pretty much through the war with the drug cartels, the second part is about the modern day police force. I really enjoyed the attitude they took about their history, it was one of humility with an optimism towards improvement.

On to Medellin...
Mom, close your ears. The road was pretty much as youd expect it: windy, hilly, and full of jungle. It took us thirteen hours to go 300 miles and seemed as if guerilla troops could hop out at any minute and take the bus. Again, this was just appearance. The reality was that it was beautiful scenery along a safe route.

Ok...now this is just getting a little old. Our delayed bus put us in late. No problem with the hostel this time, just the cabbie who took us there. He didnt know where it was and had to stop 11 times for directions (I counted), almost wrecked once (would have if I didnt tell him to look out), and went the wrong way down a one way street twice. On top of that, he charged us almost the full fare! He did take off 10% but it was still about twice as much as we should have paid. From now on Im making sure I get somewhere in the daytime.

MEDELLIN

Im not going to lie, the main reason for my going here was that it had been talked up so much on Entourage. E and the boys didn´t let me down, however, as this is definitely the best city ive been too thus far. Hell, its a remarkable city even considering Europe and north america. Some of the perks: the nicest metro Ive ever been on (tied with Munich, but provides a great view of the city), great safety (could walk around at night no problem), clean, cheap, and the people are all so friendly and helpful (without even asking theyll come up and give you directions/offer to help).

As we wondered around looking for the interactive museum, we stumbled upon some sort of temporary exhibit they had up. The exhibit went through Medellin, past and present. It honored those that were killed in the drug wars, while emphasizing a better tomorrow. Medellin currently devotes 40% of every tax dollar to education, that three times the amount of any other place in Bogota. They pretty much had enough of all the crime and violence, pulled themselves up by the bootstraps, and turned the city into an international destination for both tourists and business. It really is remarkable and Id recommend it to anyone.

A few pictures from Plaza Botero. Sorry, these are borrowed from my buddy Adam so theyre the best I can do for now. Notice the interesting design of the church. Botero was a famous sculptor/artist whose designs are all bubbly (see statues in pic 2). Its kind of hard not to smile when seeing these overly-corpulent statues, though one was used to hide a bomb several years ago.

We did take one day trip out of the city to Guatape, about 2 hours outside. Here there is a massive rock that you hike up to see this beautiful lake landscape that almost appears as an archipelago. We wanted to swim in the lake but the clouds rolled in and it was a bit too cold so we had to settle for a fresh fish lunch. The trout was fried whole and brought out to use, head, eyes and all. Still delicious though.

My three days there wasnt enough and I definitely want to go back.

NATURE

2009-04-15T04:52:00.000-07:00

Editors note: As aforementioned, my camara capabilities have been limited. I no longer have a working one but plan on borrowing pics from my travel partner, Julie. As of now, I have a few from Galapagos (posted) though there are still hundred more that will have to wait until mid-May. As a results, Ill probably be changing the format a little bit.

Also, Im a bit behind on my posting (surprise suprise) so I will be attempting to make a new post every five days or so.

GALAPAGOS ISLANDS

There really is no way to explain them in full. Its nature at its best, Keats perfect moment frozen in time. Every island we went to it felt like I was a guest, and that the animals were allowing me to see what their lives were like. Its amazing how close you could get up too them, though not too close as you didnt want to change their habits. I was actually pretty happy with the way that the tour was conducted in the sense that it was very respectful of the natural envirnments.

Every day we did two different land excursions, each having something unique to offer. There was also snorkeling once a day, which was probably my favorite part, but the pics from Julies underwater camera will have to wait. Just a teaser though: I got to swim with sea turtles, sea lions, penguins, king rays (about fout feet across), and even sharks!

A quick run down on the stops:

BARTOLOME- Our first stop was one of the more popular islands, or at least the most fotographed. It is an extinct volcano and much of the land is composed of old volcanic rock. Off to the side is Pinnacle rock, a popular spot for snorkeling and the main symbol of the galapagos. On the top is a volcanic cone that provides great views of terrific landscapes.

FERNANDINA- Not much to offer in the way of plant life, but the Fauna was pretty great. This is the home to the largest population of Marine Iguanas in the world (so many you had to watch your step), which made for an interesting boat ride to island to see them scurrying across the water. The island is popluated with iguanas, the sally lightfoot crab, and flightless cormorants. Along the waterside sea lions and rays can be found.

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Flightless cormorant shakin its tail feather (drying off)

Look close, theres a lizard chillin on top of the iguanas head

ISABELA- The largest island in the Galapagos that really stands out as its shaped like a sea horse. This island has great views of the volcanos and its terrain is composed mainly of lava fields...so much so that it can get quite hot during the day (hot enough to fry an egg!) We had two stops on this island, one where we got to see the lava fields, and another to see some wild life. We were treated to some pink flamengos, various other bird species, land turtles, and land iguanas (much bigger than the marine iguanas, up to 20lbs!)

Blown up puffer fish on the volcanic field

Boobies Everywhere! The blue footed boobie is native to the islands and known for its distinct feet, as well as its mating dance.

FLOREANA- Predominantly known for Post Office Bay. This was an old school post office where people would drop letters and fisherman would come by and see if any of the letters were addressed to where they were going too. If you took a letter, it was your responsibility to hand deliver it to the addressee, thus no stamp needed. The tradition continues today, though unfortunately there was no post card going to Richmond and I didnt have any to address. Theres also an underground cave, which is kind of cool for a few minutes but lacks in the islands main attractions: flora and fauna. As we made our way back to the main island for our return, we were also treated to a small group of sperm whales swimming near the boat...absolutely amazing.

The post office, oddly enough looks better than most Argentine ones!

Julie and I at Post Office Bay. Id love to say thats some sort of weird sea/land creature to the left, but its just a pair of legs. Thank goodness for photoshop!

SANTA CRUZ- One of the main islands with the largest population, thus not much to see in the way of nature. I disliked this island as it meant we were leaving the next day.

ONE WARNING: If you are considering booking an island tour, stay away from both Columbus Travel (a travel agency) and Latin Trails (the tour organizer). This may be hard as your options are limited but defintaley check to see who is offering the tour. I say this because my friend Julie and I booked together, and were promised a room together, but ended up seperate. My roommate ended up being a photographer that Latin Trails stuck in there since there was an empty bed and Julies was a lady who only spoke russian. When told of the error of their ways, they offered nothing more than an apology, which was hard enough to get out of them. It sounds bratty, but when you spend enough money to live in bolivia for several months on one week, you expect things to go right.

A MOMENT OF HILARITY- Julies roommate provided several as she always tried to speak russian like anyone on the boat understood here. At one point we were going through some coves on a boat and identifying fish and she started to ask if there was a certain one but no on knew what she was saying. Finally she stuck two fingers out of her forehead and starting mooing. Everyone was still confused, except me, I knew right away. Manatee, or sea cow...thank you Jim Gaffigan.

When Life Gives You Limes...

2009-04-05T07:22:00.000-07:00

Make Limeade! I realize this is a departure from one of my previous posts that suggest to just start hucking the assigned fruit at individuals. However, a certain amount of optimism is required.

Lima is the spanish word for lime, and the city itself actually takes on some of its attributes. Its good an small dosis, but a little bit goes a long way. That being said, the four of us (Lee, Brynn, Marie, and myself) managed to make a day of it. Any time youre driving from an airport and see a car on fire, you know things are going to be at least interesting. We carried on towards the hostel where we met the owner, who seemed to be a surfer party boy with little else to do. He also had no concept of time as we told him we were only there for a day and he suggested about 72 hours (continuous) of events.

Jose then hooked us up with his cousin/brother/friend who, for the low low price of $3 per, prepared us fresh ceviche and parmesan scallops...probably one of the best deals for meals Ive ever had. We then meandered across the plaza to get some much needed ice cream (you get weird cravings out on the trail) but walked into bizarro world. Instead of a regular menu, everything this place had was in picture form because they created sculptures out of their ice cream (mickey mouse, a duck, guy with a cannon...you get the idea). Fully engorged, we decided to work off some of our intake with a little late afternoon surfing. The waves werent great, which was fine because we werent either. Still, rather lovely. The night life wasnt too promising, though we werent looking for much. They do, however, have a water fountain park that makes the Bellagio look like a squirt gun. No a bad send off for the rest of the gang though.

BACK IN THE HIGH LIFE AGAIN

Steve Winwood is full of shit. After a brief hiatus in Lima (sea level) I returned to elevation in Quito, around 2800 meters. Quito is what I would like to describe as a "shithole" and it kind of caught me off guard. There are two main tourist parts to the city, old town and new town. Old town being more colonial and historic, new town having more of the nightlife. I decided to stay in new town. Ive also decided that I should never arrive in a new city after 10pm (remember the girl that wanted to drug me in Cuzco?) as there was a prostitute on the corner when I arrived. It turned out it wasnt the timing, as I woke to find crack dealers up and down the street and spread throughout the neighbourhood. I tried my best to see the city during the day but took it rather easy during the night. My second night I was really considering going out until I came back to the hostel and heard three mugging stories from that day (including one guy who was mugged three times on his walk home). I stayed in.

I wouldnt really consider myself the cautious type, but just didnt have a good feeling about this city. Turns out I was right, I went out the next night (four blocks away and only stayed out until 11) and on my return was almost mugged. One of the three crack dealers on the street was running across and screaming at me and I was able to get in the hostel just in time to close the door in his face.

Some of the highlights: They have a really nice old cathedral in town. By really nice I mean they let you do whatever you want. Seriously, I was crawling around in the rafters and made my way up into the old bell tower...not the safest thing in the world but pretty fun. Also, their central bank was putting on a currency exhibition, which was interesting to see the history of their currency.

For those of you who dont know, Equadors official currency is the US dollar. Rememeber when the Sacagawea coin came out? Ever wondered where they all went? Answer: Equador. Other than a few minor coins, everything is US mint. Do you have any idea of the benefit the US receives annually from this? Every dollar outside the country is essentially a debt the US government never has to pay. Add to that the thousands of dollar most wealthy thrid world country citizens keep as their savings and the US is reaping a massive benefit. I just hope the dollar remains the common currency of the world, if not, that could mean trouble.

SAD NOTE: I believe that I mentioned my camera broke on the final day of the trail, just as we reached Macchu Picchu. Although Im now traveling with Julie, who has two cameras, it also appears as if my Picasa Web Albums is full. Ill try to figure out a way around this but until then there will be few pictures available. I just posted about 100 from Peru.

Until next time...

2009-03-22T16:04:00.001-07:00

A few quick notes: Apparently people can ¨follow¨ my blog, which I didn´t know until my buddy Adam just did about a week ago. As of now I see no added benefit to this other than making me feel good about myself, but I put a link on there anyway in case you want to. New photos are up, a smattering of bolivia and peru. Still have some more Bolivia pics yet to make it up due to extenuating circumstances (unavoidably detained). Lastly, trying a shorter format, hope you like it.
I also forgot one of the more important parts of Bolivia:

HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR LLAMA FETUS?
Cause in Bolivia, apparently the correct answer is ¨dried.¨ Interesting fact about Llamas: they abort their first three children. Im pretty such its out of social protest but some claim science has something to do with it too. The coca leaves must have been extra strong when they came up with this tradition because I don´t really understand it. Apparently you take the dried llama fetus and place it on top of what I like to call a ¨random crap burrito¨ consisting of paper shavings and various other trinkets. You roll it up and place it in the corner of the house and repeat four times, one for each corner. This is supposed to ward of bad spirits but I feel like it doesnt work. Perhaps burying the Llama fetus might be a better idea? At least then you may get a llama fetus tree, or who knows, maybe even a whole llama will grow. Im willing to bet its the overly powerful dried llama fetus llama that is keeping this tradition alive.

Something tells me this is going to be the Tickle Me Elmo of 2009

WELCOME TO CUZCO
After my 12 hour bus ride into the city all I wanted was a beer and bed. I got the former but the latter just wasnt in the cards. As I was flossing my teeth a girl comes out of the bathroom and our conversation is as follows (please note this takes place over several hours and is condensed):

Aussie Girl: You´re flossing, thats lame
Daniel: Sorry
AG: Thats ok, I just threw up lasagna. Where are you sleeping?
Daniel: The room next door
AG: Me too! (dragging me into the room) This is my bed, this is my best friend nat´s bed, this is my brother chris´s bed, and you´re sleeping above stinky bitch.
Daniel: Stinky bitch?
AG: yeah, shes a stinky old bitch (she actually was stinky, though not old, and I was unable to tell if she was a bitch or not). you should come out with us!
Daniel: no thanks, really tired.
AG: Want a vicaden?
Daniel: Ill be alright, thanks
AG: You want some lasagna?
Daniel: (not sure the source of the lasagna) ill pass
(friend walks in) AG to friend: do you have any heroin
Nat: yeah
AG: and coke?
Nat: yeah
AG: Great, lets go out
(RETURN AT 3 AM)
AG: Daniel wake up, I brought you something (shoving a mcdonalds cup filled with ketchup packets in my face). HAHAHA! Just kidding! those are for breakfast tomorrow. You going to come out with us tomorrow night?
Daniel: Maybe
AG: You better, and you better get fucked up! If not I´m going to slip a vicaden in your drink! (the girls proceed to talk about the last person they did that to as ball up in the fetal position and rock myself to sleep).

some guys have all the luck.

POOR MR MARBLES
Said name can really be substituted for any pet you had in your childhood. One of the Peruvian national dishes is Guinea Pig. Before our big day we decided to partake in such a decadent dish and visited a restaurant specializing in such.

Turns out this place was a tourist trap as the food really wasnt great, but we got out money´s worth in jokes that haunted our childhood memories.

We samples the Buffalo Guinea Wings. I guess the restaurant would have also worked well for those who hate italians as they could get away with slurs all night.

We also managed to have a good time around town. Generally I shy away from ghastly american behavior like making fun of other cultures, but sometimes Peru just made it too easy:

Lee and Brynn have decided on a career change and are practicing up

THE INCA TRAIL
Enough about Cuzco though, lets get down to the good stuff. A group of six of us went. Two friends from college, Julie and Lee. One friend from LA, Chris. And two of Julie´s friends. The trail itself lasted four days and was absolutely one of the most incredible things Ive ever done.

Day 1
Was considered the easy day, so we knew we were in for trouble. It didnt help that I was lugging about 30lbs on my back. We started in the Sacred Valley at 2400 meters and worked our way all the way up to 3200 meters, stopping off to see ruins built into the mountainside. We setup camp around 5pm and there were some locals selling luke warm beer that wasnt that good to begin with. It cost about $2 and would have taken the worlds strongest man to pry that beer from my Kungfu grip.

A Man selling drinks along the way. Julie tested his credit card ad and was denied. Law suit currently pending.

Some of the ruins built into the mountainside

Day 2
This was supposed to be the Tough Day, so we knew we were in trouble since the soreness really kicked in after a nights rest. This day is 18km, climbing 800m, then descending 600 (much harder than it sounds), climbing another 300 and descending 500 more. Its such a challenge that there are extra mountain folk around willing to carrying peoples packs for them so they can walk it without weight. Some members of our group opted for this route, though I wont mention whom. As tough as it was, Im glad I kept my pack with me. The altitude has such an effect that Im sure I would have been struggling anyways, thus would have felt like an uber-wimp.

Dead Womans Pass was the heighest the trail gets, 4200m, and apparently such an accomplishment that its picture worthy.

Day 3
The majority of the hard work is out of the way on the first two days, which is nice because you can enjoy the last two much more. We hiked through mountains, jungles, and forests, and it never got old. I knew I was really living in the moment when I realized I hadnt thought about anything to do with computers for the past three days. Unfortunately some of the most amazing things we saw (clouds coming in over the landscapes etc), the camera does no justice to. I, however, am under the impression that that is the way it should be. There are some things that only belong as a memory in your head, thats what makes them unique and unable to replicate.

A Sampling of some of the trail we traversed

Day 4
We woke up at 4 AM to try to beat the crowds into Machu Picchu, our final destination. Unfortunately, after 1.5 hours of hiking, my camera decides to break right as we reach the lost Incan city. Our group is sharing pictures so I should have some soon...I apologize for any delays and emotional scarring this may have caused.
Once we made it into the city we headed toward Wacchamamma, the adjoining mountain because apparently in our new found masochism we hadnt had enough hiking. The situation turned a bit crazy and we ended up having to rush our hike, which is always good when climbing hundreds of meters with no guard rails. Glad I made the climb, though the weather was too cloudy for good views of P City (its following in P Diddys footsteps. Ancient lost cities these days, what are you going to do?) This was followed by a tour of the city. Scholars maintain that the translation was lost thousands of years ago, but really, no one has any idea why this city was built into the mountainside. Their best guess: university. My best guess: precursor to Neverland ranch.

Heaven and Hell

2009-03-15T16:09:00.000-07:00

Editors note: If youve read Adams post from the past blog, youll notice that I left out names in the previous posting. I usually do this for the sake of anonymity (not that it matters that much) but apparently I have offened my dear friend Adam. In the name of full disclosure, Adam is the name of the guy from South Africa. And don´t worry Adam, you weren´t just ¨that guy from South Africa,¨ you were my only guy from South Africa. Since Ive held back to much here´s a bit more info about Adam: he used to live in London, he wears mankinis, and his favorite drink is a cosmopolitan :)

AM I DREAMING?

The third day of our trek through the desert we reached the much awaited destination: the salt flats of Uyuni. 12,000 km in area and up to 10m deep, this ancient dried out lake is a site for the ages. Most of the fun we had was with depth perception, since you are surrounded by white, putting things/objects in the background can make them seem smaller. For example:

A picture that appears if GoGo Jonas and I are shrunk and holding up Adam.

We also had a little bit of fun with this one:

A little Angel and Devil on the shoulder

This last one doesnt quite capture it all the way as I was at the wrong angle with the sun, but it almost appears if Im free falling.

We also stopped by the Isla de Pescados (Fish Island), smack in the middle of the salt flats. It gets its name in that it´s shaped like a fish if viewed from above. It´s most known for its cacti, some as high as 16 meters and old as 1,000 years old. Eating lunch hear was almost surreal. It seems as if you are surrounded by snow, but it´s really just tons and tons of salt. More photos in the web album.

ALL GOOD DREAMS MUST COME TO AN END

After our trek through we stopped by the train graveyard, which wasnt too much to see. The train rememnants were those left over from around the 1850s when the spanish used to export materials out to sea through the northern coast of Chile.

Once we arrived in Uyuni the real fun began. Jose, our nineteen year old driver found my passport and handed it over to the office official, along with two numbers to call to get my visa...neither number worked. Apparently there is no translation needed for the look I gave her, which was probably something to the tune of ¨if we don´t get my visa today Im going to bury you in the salt flats.¨ After about ten tries she finally got through and the visa was taken care of with relative ease. Its pretty by the way, the bolivian visa, but not worth $135 by any means.

As I was now free to move throughout the country and ready to get the hell out of Uyuni, I met up with some of my fellow desert trekkers and we went to book a night bus to La Paz. The news wasn´t good: police and army had closed the already poor roads due to rain. Having no other options we booked our tickets for the following morning and were told to check back in around 7pm in case something opens up.

Nothing opened up, but that didnt seem to matter. We were told to meet at a sketchy gas station outside of town to bypass the road block and that we would be leaving tonight. By now I am traveling with two ladies from Bolivia and we were eager to get to La Paz so we went. Upon our departure I noticed the police were there, though they left after about fifteen minutes. I assume they took a bribe.

Turns out we probably shouldnt have left. I think we crossed at least three rivers. Not on bridges, actually going through the rivers. One of them was at least 30m long and another had trucks washed up in the river bed. Our bus broke down twice and stopped a third time. The additional stop was after crossing a river, hitting a hole, and the bus tossing back and forth at about 45 degree angle, so close to tipping over. The bus behind us saw this and slowed down, then got stuck in the riverbed. They had to evacuate the bus at 5am, build fires and wait for another bus. We made our 300 mile journey in 18 hours and the group that got stuck took 25, so it was bad but could have been a lot worse. If there is a hell, Id imagine it something close to this.

LA PAZ
In all fairness, I dont think I gave it enough time. After the delayed bus ride and spending a bit too long in Chile, I only had two days for La Paz and two more for La Titicaca. The city is visually astonishing as its over 10,000 ft high and essentially built into mountainsides. There is one main road that is relatively flat and all the others go uphill from there. The city itself doesnt have too terribly much to offer. By day it is really just one big open air market, everybody is selling everything. So much so that it seems supermarkets dont really exist in the city center. There isnt too much in the way of culture, except for the Coca Museum, which I visited and burshed up on my history of the coca leaf and its popular byproduct: cocaine. The food was rather mediocre as well. That said, the one upside is that its absurdly cheap. A night in a basic hotel was about $6US. I also bought a swiss army night (though not brand name) for $3.50. It was nice to live in a place where everything was so cheap and I feel as if I had stayed longer I could have appreciated it more. ç

OH THOSE BEAUTIFUL BOLIVIAN WOMEN...

Not so much. I think its the altitude but they kind of resemble cupcakes. High cheek bones, a low center of gravity, and a bit of a waddle...not really a recipe for attraction. I do like their traditional garb though and hope to have a picture of it up soon.

THE CRIME SIDE

Although I felt relatively safe Bolivia still has a lot of work to do in terms of security. A few things that might startle foreigners are the shoe shine boys and taxis. The shoe shine boys were ski masks and hats to completely cover their face and most taxi/buses are old school VW type vans. When the buses come by, someone opens the door quickly and starts screaming out the destinations. If you put the two of those together, it seems like a great recipe for an express kidnapping (where they take you hostage until you draw as much money out of the ATM as you can). Come to think of it, those vans look an awful lot like the one the terrorists used in Back to the Future, so youve got that to worry about too.

One side note: Bolivia really appears to be a country without consequences. I used to feel the same about Argentina and sort of still do, but at least Argentina maintains the illusion of consequnces. Its well know to travelers where you need to go to buy all sorts of illegal contraband, including dynamite. There´s also a pretty famous prison just outside la paz, filled with all sorts of violent criminals, that is known for its cocaine production. You can take a very unofficial tour of this prison, ending with a sample of their product...I passed.

NOT QUITE THE HOTTEST PLACE SOUTH OF HAVANNA
Ok, so my man Barry was probably singing about the one in Rio, but Brazil´s Copacabana was actually named after Bolivia´s, though Im not quite sure why. The Copa was nice, though much smaller than I invisioned. There´s a hill overlooking the lake where I caught a beautiful sunset. The next day I headed to Isla del Sol, where I planned to spend the night. The island gets its name from the Incas as they thought the sun was born from there (again, not sure why as the sun neither rises nor sets over it). I had planned to spend the night on the island for a change of scenery, but this too was quite small. My friends and I arrived around 10am and hiked our way across the island in a few hours, returning around 5pm.

On our return trip we stopped by the floating island, which was one of the bigger tourist traps Id ever seen. There are apparently some real floating islands on the other side of the lake, the Peruvian side. In Peru, people apparently live on these man made floating islands. In Bolivia, they dont even make it look like they are trying. You can see the wooden bouys below the straw and a big sign saying WELCOME TO LAKE TITIHUANA (in English!). It was pretty funny as everyone on our boat was fed up with tourist traps and didnt go on the island (as we knew admission would be charged)

In sum, Im not really sure how I feel about Bolivia, said that it was exhausting. Its great in that its really cheap, but terrible and that people nickel and dime you for everything! Id rather pay 20% more than having to pay a dollar to step on the island, fifty cents to use the bathroom, a quarter for toilet paper, etc. That said, I do feel like I rushed it and would like to return at some point. My visa is good for five years so who knows.

Terribly sorry, my web albums cant make it up today. The computers here in Cusco are terribly slow so it will probably have to wait until next weekend in Lima.

Bye bye Southern American Pie

2009-03-10T16:34:00.000-07:00

Im officially north! Or at least in the middle.

LA SALIDA

Argentina didnt want to let me leave without two final kicks to the nards. I was heading to San Pedro de Atacama, in northern chile, and its a relatively small destination. I went to the bus station early that morning to get cash and my ticket, so as not to have to wait two more days. Five cash machines later, I finally had the money. An hour and a half later, I fortunately had my ticket.

Fast forward to the next day. Six hours into the trip, just before the Chilean border, a small town- of maybe 100 people- decides to protest lord knows what and shuts down the highway. One hour delay, but really not too bad.

SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA

Is really a cool town. Nothing is more than a story high and the population is only abour 4000. Its supported almost completely by tourism, meaning there were some great things to do and great places to eat. As we couldnt find any hostels online, we rolled the dice and waited until we cleared customs. They came up seven. Our group of three managed to multiply to eleven and we filled out Marcelinos hostel. It wasnt until later that we found out that Marcelino was a former high level body guard with knowledge of several types of martial arts. We decided to celebrate all of our various discoveries with an asado and more than a few cervezas. If youre looking through my web album (title: chile and bolivian salt flats) you may seem strange pictures, these were all from a fun drinking game we played called 13. Ill save the details for later and will probably teach many upon my return. It was just such a highlight as we had people from columbia, chile, norway, south africa, ireland, and switzerland all playing, making it quite the multicultural affair.

There was a group of five of us, though, that stuck together for the next few days. Two girls from Norway, one from Ireland, and a guy from South Africa. The following day we did an excursion to the Valley of Death (unfortunately not as cool as it sounds) and the Valley of the Moon for a sunset. Also not as great as expected, but still a nice excursion. The next evening we had Marcelino take us to one of his familiar spots, thermal baths about 30km outside the city. The waters were warmed by a nearby volcano and we couldnt stay more than a few hours due to the sulfur. We did, however, make use of our time, even if the water wasnt as hot as we wanted (about 75f).

SALT FLATS

The next morning we started on our three day, four by four excursion through the bolivian salt flats. I knew I was in for an adventure when I had to hand by passport over to bolivian customs. Americans require a visa (i now hate the word reciprocity) and Bolivia doesnt trust its border officals with the $135US I needed to pay. Therefore, my passport was put into a rather unofficial looking package and turned over to the care of our rather unoffical 19 year old guide, Jose. Three days and twenty blood pressure points later I was to get it back in Uyuni where the visa could be processed.

Nonetheless, we proceeded with out journey as planned. As I mentioned before, there were five of us, but the jeep needed six. We picked up one more random guy, a brazilian named Jonas. It proved not only a good chance for me to practice my portuguese but also a ton of fun. We traveled in a caravan of three jeeps. Not that it really mattered, one breakdown and we were screwed, this was complete desert. Every so often we stopped off at a laguna, there was the white one and the green one. The white one almost purely reflected the sky, while the green one changed colors from blue to teal as we watched (check it out in the photos). We also stopped at more thermal baths (this time about 95f) which was warmly welcomed, pun intended. Our main stop was the geysers, which were not only magnificent and dangerous, but also marked the maximum altitude of our journey at 4900m (over 15000 ft). A few shrubs was all the flora and the fauna was little more than pink flamengos and vicunas, a cousin of the deer. We ended our day at the colored lake, which was a sulfur red, full of flamengos and surrounded by llamas. Everyone was a bit shocked at a 7pm dinner time (about 3 hours earlier than we were used to) and the fact that we were at a campground with nothing else to do. Solution: cards.

The next day was more grueling than eventful. 280 km (about 168 miles) through the desert is no simple task. Id even hesitate to call this off roading because that would imply that at some point there was a road. Our first stop was the Arbol de piedra (Rock Tree) which was cool to see, but there was little else to do. We followed that with a trip through three of four lagunas, which we were a bit sick of by the end as there isn{t much to distinguish them. The last stop was an active volcano before we raced a storm to our next nights habitat.

I feel it necessary to mention that two days in the desert can take its tole on people. You can see many examples of this in my photos as we tried to spice up our sand and rock surroundings. We also started to create our own fun in other ways. The brazilian I mentioned earlier, Jonas, didnt speak much english. As he was hurrying us for a picture he said GO GO! and thus the name GoGo Jonas was born. We all ended up with nicknames by the end, mine was West Virginia (john denver is too damn popular internationally). Our team name was GoGo Jonas and can be seen extched into our jeep in various photos. More fun was had than should have been. It was like one of those times you cant stop laughing at something that isnt too funny and it was great. It was probably a good thing we pulled into our hotel when we did as who knows how far it would have gone.

When I say hotel I really mean basic accomadation. But after two days in the desert, even the mildy hot shower could have convenced every guest it was 5 star lodging. The other cool thing about the hotel was the inside was made completely out of salt. The walls were salt bricks, the floor was covered in salt and the tables and chairs were also compacted salt. Fun, novel, and suprisingly comfortable. Though I guess after the grueling day we had, a bed of nails would have been welcomed with open arms.

Day 3 was the big day, the salt flats. Unfortunately I havent uploaded my pictures from here yet, and in this case mroe than every, a picture really is worth a thousand words. Therefore, the story will have to end here and be continued within a week.

If youve made it this far, today is March 10th and Im hoping to have the photos and the second half up by the 16th. I also dont have time to inbed pictures right now but will hopefully go back and put some in by the 16th. Until then, Ill try to label a few on my web album to give a better sense of direction (they are all mixed).

The North

2009-03-02T14:52:00.000-08:00

Dear Reader, I´ll say this only once: please keep in mind I´m on the road. I´ll probably only be able to post pictures once every few weeks or so, and even though I hope to update this at least once a week, who the hell knows. Also, given that chances are Im probably sweltering in a computer lab as locals are screaming at each other over some video game they are playing (like right now for example) please forgive the lack of editing.

That being said, it´s good to be back. Im not sure if it was the city or just feeling sedetary that made me feel as if my creativity was being stifled. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing like 90 degree heat and 100% humidity right?

TUCUMAN

I chose this as my starting off point as I had met someone from Tucuman on my last trip through europe. We kept in touch during my time in Buenos Aires and I promised her I would check out the north. Surprise surprise, when it came down to it and the ticket was booked, not a word from her. I wasnt looking for a hand out, a place to stay or anything of the like, perhaps just to meet up and grab a beer or something. She, however, went dumb over the last month and this never came to fruition. I really don´t mind as I managed to enjoy myself just fine in the city. It did, however, come to symbolize my impression of Argentina: unfulfilled promises. I´m speaking mainly in terms of people (not all of them) but suppose this could easily be applied to the government, economy, history, et al. I realize this may sound a bit bitter but I don´t really think of it in that way, it´s more of just putting things in there correct place. Knowing this will make it much easier when a local is a no show or doesnt do as they said. But I digress.

Tucuman is a big city with a small town feel. I enjoyed it as everybody seemed to be a bit more outdoorsy and healthy...lots of runners and many people on bikes. It was technically the first city in Argentina but it´s lack of museums could fool even the most historic-minded tourist. Nonetheless, it was a nice break after a 17 hour bus ride and gave me a little chance to unwind from big city life.

Getting away from the cities is kind of out there. Not quite as out there as the sheep farm, but close. At one of the bus stations I witnessed them syphoning off gas from one bus to the other. Not only that, but it appeared that this was such a common occurance that they built a ramp for one bus to back up onto. The next day I made my way up to Tafi del Valle, a town three hours north that would probably be described more as a lake with some houses around it instead of a town. As I still hadn´t shaken the rust off and come back into my own as a traveler, I wasnt willing to forge down to town to figure out what there was to do. The reasons for this were many as I was still stiff from the bus ride, lugging 60 lbs on my back, and there is very little info in guide books on this city. I decided instead to continue on to Cafayate after a two hour lunch break overlooking the lake.

Cafayate is the start of the northern wine country. It doesn´t have quite as good wine, nor the appeal of Mendoza, but is still worthy in it´s own right. They are actually known for their Torrentes there, a white wine that I can actually tolerate. Another fun part about the town is that one of their more entreprenuerial members decided to patent wine flavored ice cream. I tried both, the white and the red, and actually liked the white a little bit better as it was smoother. This, by the way, is no ¨hint of wine.¨ It´s in your face and packs a punch. I also managed to swing by a vineyard to take a tour and try some of their samples.

Also in Cafayate I took a tour of the Quebradas, a series of deserts and gorgers. Im not sure how to really place it in the US but some of it looked like Utah I guess. Some pretty amazing things that have been carved out by the elements, hopefully the pics will be up in a week or two. Somehow along the way we also managed to pick up a spaniard who was absolutely ridiculous. He was fifty years old and dressed in a salmon t shirt with wine bottles all over it, euro-short salmon shorts with goldfish (think peppridge farm) all over it, and salmon colored crocks. As I slowly work through who and what I never want to be, he helped me as I could check him off the list.

My last adventure in Cafayate was a trip to the waterfalls. Given that no excursions were offered from the hostel or guide book, I took this as a sign that I could do it solo. I should have known when the one hour trip there took 25% longer. I also should have known when the person signing people in said I should have a guide, but I thought he was blowing smoke up my ass and I was having none of it. The trail is about two hours each way and poorly marked. Not poorly marked as in ¨wow I can´t beleive there is only a sign every 400 meters¨ but poorly marked as in sometimes a machete could have been useful to help make your way through.

One of the most difficult parts was the river. I think I had to cross it about 25 times total, sometimes hopping on rocks, other times having to take off my shoes and wade through. Finally I just said screw it and went in with my boots on, which actually helped a lot more with traction. Between that, scaling rocks, walking along ledges 100ft up, and the sun beating down on me I learned my lesson. I also have several reminders of said lesson as it looks as if I got in a fight with a coked up cat. Highlight of the trek: getting lost on my way back and running into a ¨mountain boy¨ who guided me back to the trail. It sounds silly but this was literally like something out of Indiana Jones, I was dehydrated and delirious and this little shirtless boy comes out of the woodwork, bouncing off rocks like they were a flat surface. He seemed rather intrigued by me and was more than helpful, so I take it they don´t get too many yankees up in the mountains there.

One of the coolest parts thus far is getting complete use out of my spanish. Up in the north, at least right now, the only travelers are spanish speakers. I befriended two argentine ladies and their 3 year old son (who may have been the coolest three year old ever), a spanish chica, and several others. Days and nights were spent speaking spanish and I couldnt help but think how cool it was to be conversing amongst a group of people whose only similar trait was spanish. Random side note: speaking with a drunk argentine from tucuman who has a wad of coca leaf in his mouth is great practice...in patience if not spanish.

Im in Salta now but have spent more time preparing for the rest of my journey than appreciating the city, which Im ok with. I head out to San Pedro de Atacama tomorrow and Bolivia shortly thereafter. Hope to update from Bolivia but who knows what the internet will be like there.

Pictures from the South

2009-02-26T13:44:00.000-08:00

So I ran out of time and didn´t get the chance to do the write up I wanted to about my trip down south so you´ll have to settle for my previous post (the journal). Below I will post some pictures, video, and commentary though if that helps.

Unfortunately I can´t seem to download the videos off of my site, which means im going to need another way to embed them within the blog. Until I figure that out, I have all the videos (with one notable exception) a caption, so just go into my photos and look under the ¨Patagonia¨ album. I´d recommend perusing all the photos but a 150 can be quite daunting. There´s only about 10 videos or so and they all have titles so you can pick them out. Here´s a sampling of the photos:

Let´s start with some of my more artistic pictures:

Title: Achilles
This my favorite picture of my trip, and perhaps from the entire year. The rolled up cigarette, bloody hand, and knarled vagabond look just empitomizes the gaucho.

Sand and Water
Comment: it always seemed like the clouds hung really low in the sky

House and Water pump (i realize im not getting any creativity points for the names here)

A year´s worth of work

Horseplay

dinner drying

THE VACATION PART

The glaciar builds a bride once or twice a year and actually damns up part of the lake

A 100 ft tall and miles long this glaciar is the most popular since its the most stable. The biggest one is about 50 miles away and is over 1000 ft tall.

Not my videos as my camera was too busted to film them, but you get the idea:

I actually befriended a tour guide so got to go with her for free. It was amazing to see her and her guide friends, who must have seen this hundreds of times (she´d been doing it for five years) still jump up and rush to the edge to see what was happening whenever you hear a big crack

Me in Chalten, working my way up Fitz Roy hill (hill my ass, 2500 ft)

Me at the summit, there was one crazy bastard who was actually swimming in that lake.

A Trip Down South

2009-02-15T13:39:00.000-08:00

As many of you may know I had a very unique opportunity to spend some time on an authentic Patagonia sheep farm. I just got back from this other-worldly experience and the next two posts will be an attempt at me trying to convey just how unreal it was. The first post, this one, is simply a modified version of a daily journal I kept while down on the farm. It's probably going to be long. Next week I will try to post something much more concise, as well as a few words on my side trips to Chalten and El Calafate.

To give you an idea of just how remote this place actually was, I'm posting the directions, taken directly from Mapquest:
-Arrive at Buenos Aires airport, get on flight without ever having had your passport checked.
-Fly to Rio Gallegos, the capital of the San Juan province, though rather small in size.
-Refuse to get a hotel for the night (240 reasons why)
-Immediately regret decision as you arrive at the bus terminal to spend the night
-7AM, take overcrowded shuttle to Gobernador Gregores (pop: 5,000), 8 hours away
-Call Marcelo, the farmer cousin of your friend, and hope he picks up as there is poor cell phone reception
-Spend the night with Marcelo and fam as your trip has exceeded 17 hours thus far
-Next afternoon, leave for the farm in a farm truck (5 ton Mercedes like a dump truck but without dumping capabilities)
-2/3 of the way stop to dig our way out of the mud
-3/4 of the way stop to dump some load as the truck won't make it up a hill
-72 miles, 2500 ft in elevation, and 8 hours later...arrive

DAY 1
I awoke with stiff/sore shoulders and back. The terrain we went through was type they use to sell hundreds of thousands of jeeps and trucks. We made it all the way in the behemoth, of course we did it without the XTerra first aid kit. The problems that we encountered with the truck the day before seemed to continue on today, something electrical. It wasn't the battery, but for some reason giving it a jump seemed to get it started. The problem with this method is that there were no jumper cables on the farm; thus, makeshift ones were needed. An old wire, exposed on both ends, was used and did the trick. The wire, however, was short and we had to removes the batteries (2) from the other truck in order to make the jump work. This process was repeated three times throughout the day. I also learned my first two lessons through our morning ordeal:
1) You're not always...check that, better said: you're rarely going to have what you need when something goes wrong so you better be prepared to make due.
2) Things go wrong frequently

Once the truck was finally in position we began to shovel gravel out that was to be used for a bridge. Upon first glance it hardly looked like 13,000 lbs but my back soon corrected my eyes err in judgment. 3 men, one boy, 3 shovels and 2 hours of grueling work while the wind whipped dust and rocks in our eyes was an appropriate welcome to life on the farm.

As we finished up, some men came by the farm, which is surprising given it's distance from EVERYTHING. They were part of a group that looks for new ways that that Argentina can invest and these in particular had a proposal to build export facilities in Gobernador Gregores (the closest town). We toured the facilities and I listened as they discussed various aspects of farming i knew nothing about, then we ate lunch. I mistakenly took a siesta after lunch, figuring that was the norm, but awoke to find that I had missed loading the wool in the truck. I would soon get my comeuppance.

In the late afternoon we went down to the lower farm to visit the grandmother and Marcelo's other son. We took two trucks and Marcelo and I went to unload the wool along the way. We currently had about 1/7 of their 77,000 lbs loaded up in 26 stacks of 450 lbs apiece. We made it to the unloading zone (a plateau near the lake) around sunset and fought forty mph wind as we tried our best to hurl these stacks out of the truck. It literally looked like something you'd see on a World's Strongest Man competition, except there were two of us and it was freezing cold. As luck would have it, the truck broke down again and we had to wait longer enough until our presence was missed (no forms of communication exist here). About an hour and a half later we were picked up and taken back to the lower farm. I'm not sure why but Marcelo's brother, Noni, decided to bring the two children, Fran (10) and Gero (5), as well as their cousin with him. That meant our half hour ride back to the lower farm was six people in a single truck cab, all the while covering mountain terrain in unpaved road at night exceeding the maximum safe speed by at least 10 mph. Quite the adventure.

As we neared the house they spotted a fox off in the distance. The truck stopped and Nonie stepped out, aimed, and fired a shot. he missed, but he and fran went out night hunting to try and get him as they kill the chickens. I stayed in and afforded myself a bath in what was probably the smallest tub I have ever used. Rinsing myself involved putting my body in yoga positions that I'll save you from in their description, just know they were none too comfortable.

DAY 2
Even more sore, this time lower in the back and in some muscles I didn't even know I had. Keeping in mind that I'd been swimming and lifting consistently I found it quite humbling. The morning started off slow and I could tell that it was going to be a "dia tranquilo," so I decided to venture out a bit to get to know the place and take some pictures. Marcelo offered me his truck but I preferred to walk. The house was about a mile away from Lake Cardiel so I walked down there, admiring the scenery along the way. I must have meandered for about three hours, as when I returned it was lunch time. Noni had gone into town (3 hour trip, minimum) to get the necessary parts to repair the truck, leaving us stuck at the lower farm until he returns. I caught up on some reading, writing, and necessary terminology I'm not quite accustomed to while Marcelo played with his children. I also managed to fit in a small hike with the two boys and catch up with Ursula (the grandmother) about a variety of topics, ranging from European travel to Obama's childhood.

As early afternoon passed into late afternoon I started to realize we wouldn't be heading back to the other farm this evening. Apparently Noni had to go to Piedra Buena, another 3.5 hours further, to get the necessary parts and we wouldn't be expecting him until tomorrow. We knew this because he sent us a message over AM radio once he arrived into town and found he needed to venture on further. He also mentioned Marcelo's girlfriend would be coming with another truck but I knew we wouldn't be leaving at least until tomorrow.

As I felt I hadn't earned my keep for the day, I went looking for something to do. The task at hand was cleaning and organizing the big truck...not a necessary task, but since we had down time. Marcelo's gf arrives around 9pm in time for dinner. After dinner Ursula shared some of her homemade cherry liquor. Not only was it delicious, but you also pick out the cherries on the bottom of the glass with a toothpick. Alcoholic and interactive? My kind of drink. I then headed to bed early as I was under the impression we would be rising rather early the following morning.

DAY 3
Let me explain something about Rooster's, they're not exact. In fact, they may be down right stupid. Sun up was probably around 6:30, though this one started crowing at 5AM. Not once, not twice, but probably closer to 30 times until I finally got up at 6:45. I dressed, I packed, and made my way to the main room to find it desolate. I then laid back down until 8:15, when I heard the first sounds of others awake. After a light breakfast Marcelo and I loaded up the small truck with supplies (110 lb bag of flour, onions, potatoes, and 5 large wooden posts at about 50 lbs each). We made our way back to La Angelina (the upper farm) with the three adults in the front and the two kids in the back. Thanks to fighting and elevation -it got much colder as we went along- the kiddos made their way up front so I volunteered to sit in the bed. Bumpy as hell and ever colder as we climbed, but I stilled imagined it more comfortable than five in a single cab. After we arrived and unloaded the aforementioned items (plus 10 110lb bags of cement) it was time for lunch. After that, the real show began. The chileans (aka gauchos, horsemen, cowboys) had rounded up all the wild horses -close to 100- from the countryside and the day's task was castrating and branding all those that needed it.

I'll spare the details for those with a week stomach for now, but will include a detailed section at the bottom for the curious. More than anything else, watching the cowboys work was spectacular. Corralling horses is an art form more than anything. In the corral there were probably 30-40 horses, but in order to accomplish your objective you need to isolate individual horses. The four gauchos work together, one working to keep the group together, the other to draw out an individual horse, and two more with lassos ready to bring him (or her) down. Believe it or not, cowboys don't lasso horses around the head or neck, these animals are way too big for that. The lassos are actually thrown in hopes of hooking the two front legs, using the animals momentum (he's running at the time) to help bring him down. Again, here things rarely go to plan and improvisations are often used.

This lasted for about four hours today. Oddly enough, watching castrations can get a little old. Fortunately, there were a few things that kept me entertained. The first was one of the gaucho's, who has apparently had an aneurysm or stroke. He could still get the job done, though a little slower than others, but the part I enjoyed was his haunting and inappropriate laugh. It was the kind of laugh that haunts dreams and he often belted it when the fight against a horse was lost. It didn't really seem like he was laughing at the gaucho's though, more at the respect to the power of the horse, a power of nature kind of thing. The second was that during the last hour Marcelo brought out three bottles of champagne and they just started bucking them during the work. There's very little booze on the farm, which is surprising because there's little else to do, but I guess four hours of castration was taking it's tole on the gaucho's too.

DAY 4
It's amazing how much you sleep here. This is due in part by the weather conditions, in conjunction with the fact that there's nothing else to do. We ate last night around 9:30 and I doubled up on my pasta plate, not because I was hungry but because I was cold and it was hot. I'd imagine I was in bed around 10:30 and got up around 9. I awoke at 8, but everyone seems to get off to a late start around here so I stayed warm in bed. As cool as it was yesterday I guess I hadn't realized how exposed I was to the elements as I was surprised to find myself both sun and wind burned. Upon venturing out I found the gauchos at it again, finishing up work left undone yesterday. I resumed my post as "keeper of the brand," even though I started to tire of my rather simple job. It certainly didn't involve much skill or activity, and watching the horses loses its luster after awhile. It may not have been glamorous or noteworthy, but it's what needed to be done and I guess that's what I signed up for.

The job was finished just before noon and we headed back down to the lower farm, Dos Hermanos. The principle reason I would guess is to arrange transportation (as Noni was back by now). It makes perfect sense though, that if you travel hours to a place, you may as well have multiple reasons to go, so an asado (barbecue) was also arranged. Much like our night adventures, on our trip down Marcelo stop to try to shoot a Gaunaco (cousin of a llama), but couldn't bring him down. I really enjoyed my fist day at Dos Hermanos, but the second trip is starting to wear on me. As this is the winter farm for all the animals and it's currently summer, there's not much to be done. As I've already seen all that needs to be seen down here and got pretty roughed up by the elements yesterday, I'll be staying in unless I'm needed. After the truck ride down (I was in the bed again), it probably took me three hours alone to warm up. This leaves me inside reading, writing, and talking with Ursula, all of which I enjoy but feel I could be making better use of my time.

DAY 5
Every time I wake up a wave of guilt passes over me. I feel I've slept too late, that I'm delaying work that needs to be done. My guilt is starting to seem pointless though, for without fail the fay is at least an hour from being started.My general plan is that if I don't hear anyone stirring I go back to sleep. Upon the first voices, however, I get up. A little something to drink, some light conversation and a bit of reading is usually how I pass the first hour of or so.

There was actually a little bit of worked to do after that as we loaded up the big truck. It appears as if the lower farm not only serves its winter function, but is also used as a dropping off point for supplies since it's much easier to access. Marcelo and the kids put a few tons of sand/rock mixture in the truck yesterday and today we added 15 more posts (5-75lbs, 10-50lbs), a carnillera (what they strong up dead animals on to drain the blood), a barrel of gas, and a dead guanaco (Noni had succeeded in bringing one down to feed the dogs).

The day got more or less interesting as it went along. I mean this in the most literal of manners. Less interesting because it rained and there's not a whole hell of a lot to do on a farm in the rain. More interesting in that a 3 hour journey in a 5 ton truck along unpaved roads in the rain can be quite interesting. We made most of the trip unmolested but knew we were in trouble as we neared our destination. The road became slightly less rocky (meaning more muddy). Up ahead there was the slightest of hills, similar to ones we pass by on a daily basis and probably don't even press harder on the accelerator. This hill was only about 50 ft long with an incline of around 10%, and it took use a half hour to reach the summit. It was a new experience for me, moving so slow that you have to look out the side windows because looking out the front window gave the appearance of being at a dead stop. Even then our pace was so slow I had to mark an object outside to make sure it was changing positions in my line of site.

DAY 6
This morning we worked with the mares, more trimming, branding and castrations (for the stallions left over). I guess I've neglected to mention the trimming thus far as it's been over-shadowed by the larger more permanent trim. No matter the horse, each one get's a hair cut on the mane and the tail, and I now know (or can at least infer) what "two bit" means in that old song "shave and a hair cut, two bit." Have a seat, we'll take care of all that extra facial hair, and while I've got the razor out...
I found morning an odd choice for this activity as I usually like to do my castrating after lunch, but I didn't have much choice in the matter. The corral was still rather muddy from the rain the other day, which proved to be an added obstacle in the work ahead. The lassos became heavier, making them harder to throw and giving them less bounce. There was also a bit more slippage, among both horses and gauchos. I'd guess that these factors added extra risk, though you never would have known it by the way these men handled themselves: business as usual. One of the major setbacks was the loss of Achilles' (what a cool name huh?) pen knife, which was used to do the dirty work (pun intended). It probably disappeared somewhere in the mud, leaving him to resort to a blade that measured approximately 10" to perform this surgery.
After lunch we were readying to leave. I had packed up, cleaned up, and was now wearing my travel clothes in place of my farming clothes. Sandals instead of boots, linens instead of jeans, and only a t-shirt and sweatshirt. Where I ran into problems was my final task on the farm: helping Marcelo take out the trash. As I mentioned before, they burn everything, but that which cannot be burned must be thrown away. When I first saw the basural (cracked earth where Marcelo dumps his trash) I initially thought it repulsive, but revisiting the idea I now realize that it's no worse than a dump. But I digress, back to my problem. After we loaded all three 70-80 lb barrels into the truck I discovered Marcelo's method for emptying them: hurling them from the truck and letting the trash fling out as it tumbles down the crevice. Not too bad of an idea, except for the retrieval part. If you're wondering what doesn't burn, a good sampling would be: glass bottles, metal wires, sheep hooves, and compost. If you're wondering what this combination feels like beneath (and on top of) your practically bare feet, the answer is not pleasant.
The deed was done, however, and I was re-washed and ready to go. I said my good-byes and Marcelo and I made our way out. My next destination: Chalten and El Calafate, which, due to my current location of BFE, was rather hard to get to. Imagine for a second a map that's like a clock face and I'm currently at the 12. I'm trying to get to 9 but the only known route is by going clock-wise. Marcelo and I weren't having it though, and he took me to what would have been the center of the clock. From there he was willing to go half way to the nine and leave me to hitch the rest of the way (an idea I was pumping myself up for). As luck would have it, this plan was unnecessary. At the center we came across a tour bus heading to Chalten and they agreed to let me tag along. It wasn't exactly hitchhiking in that I wasn't on the road with a thumb, but it was a free and unknown ride for multiple hours. I'd say all in all it was a fitting end to an experience unlike any other.

NOT FOR THE WEEK OF STOMACH

Horse castration is surprisingly simple. The hardest part is getting the animal down (which I previously described). From there, the gauchos use a long leather strap that they wrap around the horse to pin it's hind leg up. The two front legs are already tied up from the lasso, and there are usually two gauchos pinning the horse down: one at the neck, the other on the body. The entire operation only takes about thirty seconds if the horse is behaving, which surprisingly occurs more often than not. Four quick snips with a pen knife, pour some salt in the wound, and let him up. The salt I guess is meant to disinfect but to me it seems more like adding insult to injury. Another surprising element is that the horse just gets up and walks off. I only saw one walk kind of gingerly and none of them made any whimpers or anything of the like.

As my hidden random thought of the week, I think I now know the worst thing that can happen to a man. Generally, when the gauchos would discard the horse testes, they would just throw them to the nearest open location. I'm not sure if this particular event was just a matter of chance in that the nearest location was close to the horses head, or if it was done on purpose since the horse was acting up a bit. I guess it's really not important as I would imagine getting hit in the face with your own testicle has the same effect, regardless of intent.

Gone

2009-01-26T14:07:00.000-08:00

For the next two weeks I'll be working on a sheep farm down in Patagonia, the main purpose of my trip being to become the but of of so many sheep jokes.

i'll be "off the grid" until February 9th but plan on regaling you with stories a plenty after that.

Getting Close to the end

2009-01-17T05:55:00.000-08:00

After three weeks of guests, various friends leaving the country for good, and moving places, I’m ready to get my hands dirty again. I’ve also been waiting on pictures from about half the guests down here, so I apologize for a lack of photos. It’s unfair to blame the guests really, as it’s my fault for not using my camera, but who accepts responsibility these days anyways? More pics will be up in about a week or so. Oh yeah, and now my computer is dead so it looks like all pictures are going to have to wait until may.

First and foremost: the New Years resolution. This year I will not be ingesting caffeine in any form. There were many good suggestions, but given that I will be traveling for over two months, in some cases to secluded areas, and that I will more than likely be moving at least twice, this seemed like the most logical and feasible.

The Logic: My body doesn’t handle caffeine well, but I love the taste of coffee. Since I’ve been down here and had lower stress levels, I end up having it about four times a week, and my body subsequently gets the shakes. What worries me is that this habit will continue or even grow when I re-enter (enter?) the working world.

Feasibility: Although I thought it might be relatively easy at first, I’m beginning to rethink my position. Coffee isn’t really the problem. Tea, on the other hand, is going to be tough. I love tea, especially sweet tea, and now that I can’t have caffeine (and since I already don’t drink soda, New Years res 2005) I’m very limited in my drink choices. On top of that, Chocolate. This will make snacking tough, no cookies, no granola bars, and worst of all, no trail mix (price club brand with the M&M’s). The thing I’ll miss the most, however, will be the weekend café while reading the newspaper.

Christmas at the Beach

Being young and foolish, I often don’t truly appreciate things until they have passed. There are moments, however, that are great enough that I can appreciate them in the present. Christmas was one of them. My best friend, Melinda, decided to flee the cold and spend some time in Argentina. It was hard enough for me to spend the holidays away from family that I could never ask someone to do the same. However, this was her idea and I was very appreciative for it.
Melinda had come in town after law school exams, so she was on a bit of a health kick since diets tend to go to shit during exam time. Those of you who have been down here could probably have guessed it, her health kick lasted all of 24 hours. In addition to doing the usual tour of the city, we decided to head down to the beach for the holiday.

I procured an apartment from the family of one of my students that was fifty meters from the beach, add some good music and gin and tonics and you got what many would define as perfection. A couple other William and Mary alums stayin down here, Bree and Callie, also joined us. We spent the days on the beach and the nights with wine bottles. My favorite part might have been the Beach clubs. In Pinamar you can rent a little cabana type tent, including lounge chairs, towels for four, and various other services (pool, hot tub, internet, wii, etc) for roughly $25. This little deal made our beach experience all the more pleasurable, especially since it was extremely windy near the ocean. It certainly wasn’t a substitute for a family-filled holiday, but it was definitively the next best thing.

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?

I had another friend in town for new years. Actually, to be more accurate, another friend and his family. Craig Carter and the fam damily descended upon Buenos Aires in late December and stayed through to the beginning of 2009. As I was currently juggling between guests and moving out of my apartment I was not able to spend an extremely large amount of time with them. The time we did spend, however, I relished. I love meeting families as I think they generally explain a lot about a person, and this rang true for Craig. Generous and fun are a few of the adjectives that first come to mind, but more than anything I’d say they are just good people. Please keep in mind I’m saying this in the old southern way, and not the plural of a “good person.” You know, like even if you were just talking about man and you said “he’s good people.” The kind of folk that would give you the shirt off their back, those that you instantaneously feel welcome with, and they made my new years great.

I generally dislike new year’s eve. I see no reason for another excuse to get drunk and often think the risks outweigh any sort of silly tradition that is celebrated at the turning of the year. It seems as though Buenos Aires agrees with me. It’s really more of a family holiday here and everyone seems to have a new years dinner here with their relatives. And since dinners start around 11, the actual new year is sort of a non-event. True, many restaurants have a fixed menu, and some bars or clubs charge extra to do a little something special, but it’s more or less like any other night. In fact, if not for the extremely large amount of illegal and unsafe fireworks…I really wouldn’t have known when the clock struck twelve. As for me, Bree, Callie, and I made gourmet pizzas for dinner that evening, then met up with various friends (Craig and some of the Carter clan included) at a bar for a drink or two, then on to a club to dance the night away until 5am. Pretty much a standard night in Buenos Aires really, and I enjoyed it. Oh yeah, and what was I doing exactly as the clock struck? Topping a pizza with barbequed chicken and caramelized onions…exciting stuff huh?

What May Have Been The Craziest Weekend of My Life

I’d say about once a month here I have a big night. As a typical night out here usually last at least until three or four, by “big night” I mean 7am. I’m too old, not the clubbing type, and generally like my sleep. After my guest exodus, however, I wearily realized that it was my friend Katie’s last weekend in Buenos Aires. As we have been good friends since high school and enjoyed our time together down here, I wanted to make sure to spend as much time with her as possible. It should also be mentioned that Katie had three friends in town for this final weekend. The events are as follows:

FRIDAY:
Started out like any other, a few drinks at a chill outside bar. It was actually a bit odd as apparently the entire population of Buenos Aires flees the city in the beginning of January so much was closed down. As it was Craig’s final night in town, I wanted to make sure it was a good one. We head to a salsa club and as we are on our way, I text Katie to let her know. Two random dudes at a salsa club who don’t know how to dance salsa could be a bit of an awkward situation, but Craig and I made the most of it. At around 2/230 or so the have dance leaders come up on stage and lead everyone in something that I might describe as over-sexualized line dancing with a salsa twist. I think Craig may have put it best with his title of “epic latin salsa sex hiphop linedancing.”

The girls arrive shortly thereafter, which is perfect timing since Craig and I are now drenched in sweat. I shouldn’t have been surprised since Katie is quite attractive, but these girls are stunning, and of course immediately attacked by every Argentine guy in the club. Seriously, half the night felt like a ho down because I would have to swoop in and save them from various swarth machines. The other half of the night was pure magic as I was “in the zone.” I mean, I hesitate to use the word “dance machine” as I’m not actually part robot (not yet at least). I may have been, however, the maniac of the ball, dancing like he’s never danced before. This of course, could not have been done without suitable dance parters* so a thank you to all of the lovely ladies who put up with me.

*the two notable exceptions being Kevin Bacon’s punch dancing scene in Footloose and the unforgettable Johnny T in Saturday Night Fever

SATURDAY
I am a morning person, and sometimes I hate it. I seemed to have been on a streak of waking up at 1030 in the morning, almost exactly, for about four days straight. The fact that I was out until 6am did nothing to change that. After collecting myself I make my way out to meet the ladies for lunch, where I proceeded to make fun of myself and swear that I was done with clubs. I spent the later afternoon seeing the Carters off, and then pretending to nap.

You know when your body is giving you overwhelming signs to change something? Well, later that night I completely ignored those as I headed to yet another club to meet the girls. I love watching Katie interact with Argentines as he mix of Spanish, English, and frustration is ever apparent and tonight was no different. After making my way in the club I had a very hard time paying for drink as all her friends were very generous. Added bonus: some of the guys the had met previously were there and got a table with VIP and bottle service. Now I’m not the clubbing type, so this sort of thing really through me out of my element, but I made the best of the situation with a repeat performance of the night before (though the dancing was not as good as the music wasn’t as good)
My two favorite parts from the night were as follows”
1) The DJ stopping all of the club music to play 80’s rock around 3am. Literally the entire dance floor stood still and watched us Americans rock. This would have been awesome had it only been one song, but since it went on for about a half an hour it was AMAZING
2) As we’re leaving the club around 6am, Katie decides to run away. After texting to make sure she’s ok, I then direct the cabbie to take the girls and I for some late night pizza (as they are screaming it in my ear). Various poor choices were made at the restaurant, the key one being ordering more beer. As exhaustion took us all over I’d imagine just about everything we said was non-sensical and would love to hear a tape of our conversations. Bed time: 7am.

Sunday Night

Can’t be big right? It’s Sunday after all. It was Katie and the girls official last night out though so we had to try. We head to a cool little area, Las Canitas, for dinner. The girls just happen to run into the international French playboy type fellow that they had met previous. Our dinner ends up combining about four different groups of people, and then, amazingly, we head out to another club. The fact that a club is open on a Sunday night in January is absurd, even more so than the bottle service these folks were ordering.
One of the girls and I, however, had had enough of the crowded and loud club scene and made our way to a bar to just chill for a bit. Thinking we made the right decision of a “lower key” night, I walk the girl back to Katie’s place around 530am. The other girls, however, had not made it back yet and there was no spare key. I convince the security guard that our friends are coming and he allows us to wait in the lobby, where we proceed to pass out. Finally the girls make it back, I’d guess a little before 8 or so.

Overall during this three day period

Average bed time: 7am
Average hours of sleep per night: 4
Average alcohol consumed: too much

A ton of fun, though not something where I’d like to have a repeat performance.

SHORTS
-Leading up to New Years Argentina had a add campaign against fireworks. It showed a damaged child and said something to the like of "You don't have to use fireworks to celebrate, but if you do use them make sure you do legally and in a responsible manner." I think it was the battered child that really hit home for me, but talk about a mixed message. If you were to carry the same approach to let's say drugs, it might read "don't do heroin, but if you do make sure you use a clean needle and buy the good stuff." Pick a message, either say don't, or say be responsible, when both are said all messages are lost.

-I was on a travel bus for the trip to the beach. Towards the end of the trip I went downstairs to use the bathroom. I tried twice but couldn't get the door open, and for some reason looked around after my failed attempts. About half way down the bus some old man was giving me the "don't go in there" sign. Upon receiving this sign, immediately walk away. Don't question as to why, no pondering involved, just walk away...when you get that sign, there's never going to be a positive outcome.

RANDOM THOUGHT

Life gives you lemons, start hucking lemons at people. Making lemonade takes too long.

Potpourri

2008-12-20T16:13:00.000-08:00

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!

2008-12-08T13:00:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-10T16:34:00.000-08:00

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?

2008-11-03T13:39:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-21T15:54:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-28T17:28:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-22T07:35:00.000-07:00

"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

2008-09-16T06:37:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-09-07T09:38:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-31T20:02:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-14T11:01:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-22T06:31:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-04-15T04:29:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-07T06:26:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

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

GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL!

2008-03-24T07:16:00.000-07:00

*check for pictures*
Perhaps an apology is necessary for the last entry as I needed to clear the air. I'll also apologize for the fact that my blog, right now, is a bit more superficial than I'd like it to be. Between visas, the aforementioned class issue (which has been resolved), and guests in town, I have had little time to focus on more than day to day activities. Recently, however, I have started to bring a journal around with me to make better note of cultural differences and points of interest that go beyond my daily life. I'm hoping I can provide better inside into the land that is Buenos Aires starting very soon. Until then...

This week I had a few guests in town: Fred and his girlfriend Emily. Fred is a long time friend of mine, we grew up together, and I was extactic that he was coming to visit. Although I was yet to meet Emily, she surpassed all forms of flatery mentioned of her. They arrived on Monday, St. Patrick's day, which we chose to celebrate in Ex-Pat fashion. Apparently Argentina has one of, if not the largest Irish population in a non-English speaking country. Additionally, Argentine animocity towards the British (think Faukland/Malvinas Islands)has fostered a great bond with the Irish. Just last year the city chose to make this celebration official, blocking of a small area of the city to traffic and essentially having a party in the street. We were able to weezle our way into Kilkenny, the predominant Irish bar in BsAs, and had a rather good time. In hind sight, it wasn't much more than what a typical bar might have to offer in the States for St.Pattys day (except they also lacked Green beer), but it was interesting to see Argentine's celebrating an Irish/American holiday. I have since been told by locals that it's really just an excuse to drink beer, like I've ever needed an excuse?

As my language classes continue on top of my university classes, I generally find my days pretty full. Most of the evenings are still spent dining out and having a few drinks and I am still struggling to find balance in my daily life. I keep telling myself things will settle down, but am having such a good time that I find it hard to initiate such actions. This week was also Semana Santa, holy week. Good Friday is a national holiday and thursday is an optional work day (optional here means nobody works). Argentina is a predominantly Catholic country, with numbers ranging between 70% and 90%, depending on who you ask. Despite the fact that there is a clause in the Constitution saying the government should support Roman Catholicism, I have seen very few "practicing" catholics. I have been inside some homes and the presence of symbolism and imagery is quite apparent, but there don't appear to be many churches or individuals who go to them.

I've also changed my mentality a bit here in respect to the one I adopted in Europe. That trip was for a very limited amount of time and I refused to allow myself to do anything American. Here...not so much. I'm going to be here for a year and there are a few luxuries that I just have to allow myself. The first one being, of course, NCAA basketball. I tried to start a pool down here, which failed miserably, but still filled out a bracket and watched a fair amount of the games. Fred and I met up in an expat bar on Friday to pull for Davidson and every other underdog as our brackets had already been shot (on the second day, pretty sad huh?) This place totally catered to Americans with dishes like chicken wings and Nachos, and though I won't be making a frequent habit out of it, I loved every second. That night I went set out to two of my favorite places here: Desnivel and Azucar. Desnivel is the restaurant that I previously made mention of when talking about the steak. Although the food is terrific, the ambiance is also great in that you can pretty much be as loud as you want. I believe I have also noted Azucar before, the Salsa club where you can dance until the sun rises. I think and hope all had a great time that night, I know I did.

The absolute highlight of the week, however, was attending a futbol (soccer) match on sunday. I just had some new friends arrive in town that morning, whom I'll make mention of in my next entry, and it was Fred and Emily's last day in town. Futbol is absolutely massive here and there are about twenty clubs within the region that is Buenos Aires. Really, however, there are only two: Boca Juniors and River Plate. The English element in their names actually stems from the turn of the century as they were initially founded by English teams/owners. These teams, however, divide the city. I'm told when tey play that they actually have to re-route traffic so that the fans never cross paths. I'd believe it too. We went to a River Plate vs. Velez game and it was absolutely nuts. We sat in the nice seats, which meant that the only thing keeping us from making our way onto the field was barbed wire and something that appeared to be a moat. The general section (with the crazy fans) was impeded by a 30 ft. fence and police in riot gear. I understand why, it gets absolutely crazy. The fans never stopped singing or jumping up and down, the entire game, and I'm really hoping you are able to access my videos to see only a small part of this enthusiasm. I'm also pretty sure that not a single minute passed where curse words weren't beeing slung at the refs and players. In addition to the experience, the game was also quite exciting. It's much faster live and it helps that my team, River, won.

A few final notes:
-Embarazada here doesn't mean embarrassed, it means pregant. I'm sure you can imagine that quite a few girls have made that mistake before, leading to even more embarrassment.
-"Happy Easter" here is Felices Pascuas. I've asked several and nobody can seem to tell me why it's pluralized. I'm really just upset that I haven't been able to find a word that sounds like Pascuas but actually means derier.

Happy Keyster :)

This is Argentina

2008-03-17T08:08:00.001-07:00

also known as "Welcome to Argentina." This is the phrase uttered whenever something goes wrong, like a power outage, slow service, etc. Wouldn't you know the blog that I saved got deleted, this is argentina. Post will be up tomorrow.

I Love the Rainy Nights (not really)

2008-03-11T16:06:00.001-07:00

Apparently six consecutive days of rain in Buenos Aires is quite unusual, especially during this season. As with any city, the locals here have a general knack for talking up their city, or in this case excusing it. Despite trying to filter and interpret these comments as “local bias” I’d have to say most of what I’ve been told has held true, the rain included. The city is not setup to handle massive amounts of rain, which has become more than evident through the flooding in the streets, closure of subte (subway) stations, power outages, and various other fun things.

*Fun side note: the original settlement of Buenos Aires did not take due to flooding. I wonder if they’re starting to re-think their position now?

On the bright side the rain has not been consistent, but on the downside the rain has not been consistent. My definition of fun is pretty broad and incorporates a wide array of activities, but getting stuck in a flash flood with all of my visa documents and without slightest shred of gear does not make the list. Compounding the problem is the dilapidated state of the sidewalks, which I think speaks more to the problem of bloated bureaucracy than economic fallibility. All of the major utilities (gas, water, etc.) run underneath the sidewalk and when there’s a problem, they have to break the sidewalk to fix the problem underneath. Apparently the gas company has no problem breaking through the patch work concrete, but when it comes to fixing the problem it’s someone else’s problem. Sometimes they’ll mark off areas with bags of rocks suggesting they’re going to fix the problem, or wood pallets to cover one eyesore with another. Sometimes they’ll even manage to salvage the tiles and put them back loosely, creating a bit of a wobble when you step on. The aforementioned is hardly ever problematic, except when it rains. The rain collects underneath the tiles and stepping on an end displaces the subterranean water, slinging it perfectly up your leg, sometimes making it is far as your shorts.

ACADEMIC NEWS

I’ve spent the better part of the week collecting my documents for a student visa and arranging my schedule with la Universidad de Buenos Aires (UBA). I’m never one to count my chickens before they hatch, especially with all the road blocks thus far, but everything seems to be falling in place. It’s actually been so smooth that I’m catching on to this “contagious optimism” that, according to Salmon Rushdie, can be oh so dangerous. Monday is my first day of classes and although I retain a bit of angst, I’m also quite excited. Not so much about the classes, but about my chance to be “that foreign student.” Just imagine any exchange student you’ve ever come across and I could be that guy: died hair, Velcro shoes, and a notebook/folder with something I think is superhip like the Power Rangers. Can’t wait.

SOCIAL NEWS

Some of the rotary scholars are leaving this week for their respective locations around the country while new ones specific to Buenos Aires have arrived. I’m starting to worry a bit about surrounding myself with mostly Americans but those fears have been somewhat belayed this weekend in what I call “the week of the argentine.” I met my first real argentine friend a few weeks ago and we finally got to hang out Thursday and I got to see some of the real local spots, though it was tough cause we didn’t start heading back (at my request) until 4AM. Friday my roommate and I headed to Palermo Hollywood (one of the barrios) and ended up meeting a large group of South Americans (name any country) working for a consulting group. We spent the majority of the night hanging out with them and I think my roommate, Patrick, might be applying for a job. That night we also met Pablo, a rugby playing drummer who made us promise to come to his bands’ live music Saturday night at a bar/club. A little afraid of him, we complied. We also thought this was going to be a little rinky-dink dive bar with a few local bands showcasing their skills…wrong. The bar was massive and Pablo arranged it so we didn’t have to pay the $30 peso cover (about as expensive as it gets). They were the only band and were amazing, Pablo especially. Afterwards he gave me a band t-shirt and told Patrick and I he was going to bring us to a Rugby practice, as well as a bbq (Parilla being the local term). He also asked for our female friend’s phone number for any of you who might be thinking about this in the context of my flight attendant story.

That’s all for now, check for new pictures. There’s a few captions this time and more to come next week, especially of the new place.

Again, Sorry

2008-03-09T17:49:00.000-07:00

I've moved in and am setup but we don't get wireless internet until Tuesday. I guess it's one of those "it has to get worse before it gets better" sort of scenarios. My post will be up by wednesday and I should be able to consistantly add on mondays.

AT LONG LAST

2008-03-03T12:20:00.000-08:00

So BsAs has had an unusual amount of rain (that being two days worth) and actually probably copes with it worse than Los Angeles. Power outages and flooding are common, leaving my update at the whim of this internet cafe computer with a faulty ´a´ button. I´d like to think of it as going back to the old school cause I´m an old fool (Tag Team anybody?) but am hoping many of these problems will be resolved when I move into my apartment with wireless this weekend. Many of you may be thinking, ¨but Daniel, how does that affect the weather?¨ Well if you follow my detailed plan below you wouldn´t have to ask such silly questions.
MY PLAN
Step 1) Move into an apartment with wireless
Step 2) Build machine that controls the weather

For those of you whose brains hurt from trying to comprehend such idiocracy, let me reiterate the big news: I have an apartment. Its a two bedroom with a common space (for those of you who wish to visit) in a nice area that probably costs a bit too much. Nevertheless, its got good value and a balcony on the 12th floor. Pictures to come.

Apartment shopping occupied most of my free time, but I managed to drag myself out for few social engagements. Tuesday night was Kevin´s last in town and we went to a bar that served indian food. The food wasnt bad though it lacked spice (Im sensing recurring theme here). A pretty casual night really. Wednesday I saw Juno in what was probably the nicest movie theater Ive ever been in, and it only cost $4 US. All the American movies are in English here with Spanish subtitles, which is a nice reprive from my brain pain, but also helpful in that I pick up a few more words here and there. The real winner of the week though was Saturday night, we went to Azucar, which is a Salsa club and danced until 6AM, again being some of the first to leave. I havent attempted Tango yet but think I want to learn Salsa first because it was a ton of fun.

For those of you worried about my cultural learnings I actually tried to go to the Bodies Exhibit on saturday, but it turns out it closed on Friday (who closes an exhibit on the beginning of weekend?) I also pick up about two or three papers a week. The big news here is that beef prices are going up 15%, from about 6.5 pesos per kilo (about $1 per lb) to as high as 8 pesos. This price seems pretty reasonable still, yet sometimes I forget Im not surrounded my American prosperity. You´ll see things like a cd rack in the supermercado that costs 40 pesos (about 13$ US) and they have it on a 12 month payment plan so people can afford it. A bit tragic.

Never one to end on a sad note:

Esposa is the word for wife in Spanish, but also the word for handcuff. Coincidence? I think not.

new post tomorrow

2008-03-03T05:20:00.000-08:00

sorry all, its been a crazy week and the rain here has shut down a lot of things. ill have an update by tomorrow (tuesday).

daniel

Week 2

2008-02-25T02:58:00.000-08:00

*Update*
In great haste I neglected to mention in my Introduction that I’m going to be an Uncle in May. Corrections (and apologies) have been made and my excitement grows with each day.

As for this week, I’m not really sure where to begin. Now that some of my childlike wonderment has worn off I’m trying my best to attain some objectivity, at least in my blog if not my life. I keep telling myself that I’ve only been here two weeks and that I’m still in tourist mode but can’t seem to shake this overwhelming sense of enjoyment. I have started to notice a few frustrations that are beginning to grow, one of which is the Argentine’s overemphasis on sex. This can be consistently seen throughout the day, from pamphlets for shows to newsstands displaying inappropriate images for all to see. There’s also a disturbing amount of cat calls, whistles, and ogling. It didn’t take me long to block out most of these pesterances by the simple act of ignoring them, but there was one that has seemed to permeate my screen and effect my life: computers. There are tons of computer labs here, which is nice since I don’t have wireless yet. However, most of them have more monitoring software than Southern Baptist in Louisiana. If I type a curse word, it comes up as ####, if there’s a bad word in an email sometimes it will shut down my entire email, if a friend sends me the facebook page of the girl he’s dating and there’s beach picture it closes immediately. I can’t even research bars without netNanny telling me there’s adult content and the page will be terminated. PLEASE!!! Anything but the bars.

SOCIAL: With the exception of Friday night, I think I did a much better job of blending my social life with cultural experience. Tuesday we went to a wine bar with live music. An argentine band played local tunes and it was quite enjoyable. Kevin “Kevbo” Kilroy came in town Thursday and we went to Copa Telmex that night (see pictures), a four nation tournament among pro players in south america. Afterwards we went to Palermo Soho to grab a night cap. This area appears to me to be one of the swankier areas and I’m hoping to live somewhere in the hear vicinity. Saturday was a tour of Tigre, which is about an hour north of the city and costs a whopping 2 pesos round trip via train. Once I stepped out of the station I immediately took to the city as there was a lot of green, open space, and a body of water. We explored a bit and walked along the water and briefly perused the Feria, an huge open air market with everything from Futons to Fruit and I’ll definitely be going back. We also took a 1.5 hour tour through some of the rivers and islands on the coast. The area was filled with a unique tranquility, forged through a combination of river simplicity and sheer beauty.

TANGO: In the evening we made our way to a tango show. A couple ladies in the language school are taking Tango classes and their instructors were performing in a local venue. This was my first live tango, and the experience as a whole was a bit cheeky. There were a couple live singers that were more like MC’s and reminded me of the guy hosting the Little Miss Sunshine contest from the movie of the same name. The Tango, however, was impeccable. It’s a very hard dance to describe since there’s no set rhythm (left foot, right foot, etc). A large emphasis is placed on the lower half of the body and there are very few turns or dips. The legs, however, move together with an almost symphonic fluidity that appears, at times, mesmerizing. I wish I had brought my camera along as words won’t do it justice, but I’ll definitely be re-visiting a tango show, and perhaps even take some tango lessons.

FRIDAY NIGHT: Was nothing special: dinner, bar, club. I don’t really feel any of the details are important enough to share except for one: the beef. Up until now I’ve only tried the lesser cuts of meat (short ribs, flank, etc.) and enjoyed them frequently. This evening, however, I decided to splurge on the $7 tenderloin and it was UN-REAL. Not only was it about 12 oz, it was certainly the most tender thing I’ve ever had in my life. A general economic principle exists that each additional bite of something you take provides less utility (enjoyment) that can be extended to the point where it actually becomes negative utility (think of eating too much until your stomach hurts). Well my friends, this tasty morsel defies the principles of modern economics. Not only was the last bite as good as the first, it may have actually been better. So good, in fact, that I almost ordered a second one despite being completely full; social appropriateness, however, helped me restrain myself.

A NEW FIRST: I had my first knife pulled on my Sunday. Kevin and I wanted to check out La Boca, which used to be a fishing village and kind of reminds me of the French Quarter due to the colorful buildings. It’s also quite famous for the Boca Jrs., the local soccer team. Outside of the tourist areas the barrio is not so nice. On our way in town a man approached our cabbie at a stoplight asking for money. After he was denied, he looked at Kevin and I and asked. After he was denied this time he pulled out a rather large fishing knife and started sputtering out curses. Despite the fact that Kevin’s window was halfway down our cabbie didn’t seem too worried and decided against accelerating. The twists and cuts the man made in the air didn’t seem too threatening as none were made in our general direction, though I guess I should say it was as non-threatening as a knife threat can be.

APOLOGY: In an effort to blame anyone but me for my poor writing I’d like to say it’s a direct result of almost no time, no space, and inconsistent internet access. I should be in a place within two weeks and promise my writing quality will improve.

First Week

2008-02-19T11:04:00.000-08:00

Week recap: There’s absolutely no way I could express all of the events that have transpired over the past week short of writing a miniature novella; therefore, I’ll be forced to provide you with only the major details and highlights below:

Travel Woes: I’d have to say my trip down here was a complete disaster and took fifty hours, door-to-door. After Continental lost my flight (don’t ask me where it went) I decided to make the best of the situation by having one last night out with some good friends. Little did I know that in an effort to keep from inflicting physical pain on the next airline attendant I saw I would be drinking my blues away that night, and I did a fantastic job of it. I awoke the next morning feeling all sorts of hung over and almost missed my flight since I thought it was a 2:55, not 2:25. I flew through Houston with what can only be described as a lovely four hour layover. Continental did, however, reward me for all of these mishaps by giving me a middle seat on the bulkhead (no leg room) for my twelve hour flight to Buenos Aires during which I was being hit on by a male steward.

First Week: After recuperating from both anger and exhaustion I decided to explore the city a little. I’ve made it out to about seven of the 44 barrios thus far and have enjoyed them all as they are both interesting and unique. I started my language school this past Monday and feel like my Spanish is improving quite a bit. To my surprise, there are actually other Rotary Scholars in this language school, even ones who will be studying in other parts of the country. There are four of us in total (but we’ve also been hanging out with an Irish girl who’s also in the school) and we’ve managed to have quite a time in the past week.

Social Scene: Argentina is truly the city that doesn’t sleep. For those of you who are die hard New Yorkers and somewhat offended by my comment, humor me. Our first night out we managed to meet a local who took us to a kiosk bar (think seven eleven meets random sketchy bar) near the city center. It was nothing special but it was nice to establish a local connection. Thursday night we went into Palermo and met some friends of friends at their amazing apartment. They live on the 22nd floor and have a huge place with a balcony and a view of the Parque, airport, entire city, and they water/Uruguay. Between the four of them they pay $1,100 US each month. After a few beers and many amazing views we went out in the barrio to a local rooftop bar and had too good of a time until 3AM. Friday night was our big night out and we decided to do a celebratory dinner. We went to a Parrillada (a typical Argentina barbeque restaurant) and, between the four of us, had four bottles of wine, an appetizer for all to split, and twice as much meat as any of us could eat, all for less than $20US. I think I’m going to like Argentina. We finished dinner at 1AM and headed to a pub since the “going out” crowd usually doesn’t make it out until around 3AM. Once we finally made it to a disco our group split up as a few of us didn’t want to pay the outrageous cover of $10 US. I made it home around 4:30 AM that night as I was still a bit jetlagged. Saturday was our “low key” night and we headed to a pool hall where every booth has it’s own tap. It was a bit expensive (about $3 a beer) but well worthy the novelty and hilarity of being able to pour your own beers the whole night. We ended up meeting some more local Argentines over some games of pool and didn’t pack it in until 5 (which is still considered early by Argentine standards).

I need to remind myself that this is a marathon and not a sprint, but there’s just so much to do and everything is so affordable. I’ve also done a bit of exploring of the cultural parts of the city. I made it down to Puerte Madera, the port area with post modern architecture and over to Parque de 3 de Febrero, Buenos Aires equivalent to central park. Of all the countries that I’ve been to I’ve never taken to one easier. Having an immediate pier/friend group has certainly helped. If I could change one thing it would be to expand this group to a greater number of locals, but I think/hope that will come with time (especially after starting classes in the university).

I can myself slowly shaking off the rust of this whole “blog update” concept and promise to work on improving writing/information. In the meantime, check out the pictures I have posted and enjoy some of the fun facts below:

FACT: My average bedtime (including school nights) is 3:30 AM

FACT: In college the saying used to be “Thursday is the new Friday,” well in Argentina the saying is “Wednesday is the new Thursday.”

FACT: The currency exchange is 3:1 and awesome. The dinner alone in our big night out would have cost me well over $150 in the states. The dinner, wine, pub beers, and two cab rides cost me $60 US.

FACT: After said dinner we saw lights and cameras outside our restaurant, like they were setting up for a photo shoot. I think it was the four bottles of wine that gave us the courage to just walk right up to them and ask if we could be in the picture, they agreed. It was pretty much your standard photo, reasonably dressed people standing and smiling. Afterwards, however, when we inquired as to the nature of the photo shoot we were told it was for a Male porn movie. Go us.

FACT: My apartment is small. My bed is only 6 ft long, with a head board and footboard. I’m 5’11.75” so no problem right? WRONG. I lose about a quarter of an inch in pillow space and my feet press outward when I sleep, so I’m pretty much locked into my bed. Waking up with a swollen knee every morning is fun.

FACT: My personal bathroom is roughly 3’ x 4.’ No problem except for the fact that it contains a sink, toilet, and shower. Every time I go in there it’s like a fun game of Frogger as I shuffle between various obstacles.

Work in Progress

2008-01-14T19:41:00.000-08:00

Dear All,
this blog is currently a work in progress. I have merely created the web address and am tinkering with format and various settings. The blog should be fully functional by my departure date of February 8th, 2008.