So I'm stuck here in Tierra del Fuego thanks to the evil machinations of Aerolineas Argentinas and the Russians, if you believe my mother's theory about the control they exercise over the weather. I was supposed to fly out of here this morning to Buenos Aires, have a 7 hour layover, and then fly back to the US tonight. The 7 hours was key, as my experience with Aerolineas Argentinas is that most flights are several hours late, for no apparent reason.
This morning, the Beagle Channel and surrounds were blanketed by a thick fog, that I'm told "never happens." So Aerolineas waited two hours after the flight time -- which is about when the flight probably would have taken off under so-called "normal" circumstances-- and then cancelled the flight altogether, with no other flight out of this god foresaken place until 9 pm at night. Goodbye 7 hour cushion. Meanwhile, shortly after the flight was cancelled the weather cleared up and the sun came out.
I spent the afternoon fighting with Aerolineas Argentinas and Delta (who holds my BA-US ticket). Basically, both airlines told me it wasn't their fault, and Delta said that if I missed my flight and wanted to fly out tomorrow (or any other day this week) it would cost the pretty sum of $1000 USD. I shite you not. Talk about extortion. This prompted a minor emotional meltdown, complete with tears, which none of the Argentine men working at the airlines reacted well too. Finally, I went to a locutorio and called Delta directly in Phat-lanta, where a kind woman named Judy worked the system for me and got me a flight out tomorrow with minor ticket-change fees.
Bottom-line: Aerolineas Argentinas is dead to me. I declare a pox on all their houses. Too bad they don't seem to care. At all. Delta managed to squeak onto my probation list, largely because of Judy -- although if I had ended up paying $1000 to fly home I would have insisted on free drinks on the international flight. And, by association, every time I am forced to say "Tierra del Fuego," instead of getting all excited about the fuego part like I used to, I shall spit, with a french accent. Tierra del Fuego -- Ptwah.
The silver-lining in this cloudy fog is that I get to have one last afternoon in Buenos Aires, where I plan to get a pedicure and fill my belly with all the steak, wine, and empanadas it can hold before my 12+ hour flight home.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
I hesitate to write this, at the risk that I sound like I'm gloating. But, anyway...
I just got to Tierra del Fuego, pretty much the end of the earth. My hotel is on the edge of a peninsula in a small town named Ushuaia. The oversized 15 foot window in my room looks out across the Beagle Channel, with the Andes mountains right on the other side of the Channel. (I have a 180+ degree view of the channel and mountains.) It's snowing a little bit, and I'm lounging on my king-size bed covered up with a caramel colored wool-llama hair blanket. The hotel has satellite TV, so when I get bored with the view, I can watch Law & Order or MTV. In a little while, I'm going down to the hot tub, which also happens to look across the Beagle Channel to the Andes mountains.
If I had known life could be this good, I would have quit a long time ago.
Seriously.
Have a great memorial day weekend, all.
I just got to Tierra del Fuego, pretty much the end of the earth. My hotel is on the edge of a peninsula in a small town named Ushuaia. The oversized 15 foot window in my room looks out across the Beagle Channel, with the Andes mountains right on the other side of the Channel. (I have a 180+ degree view of the channel and mountains.) It's snowing a little bit, and I'm lounging on my king-size bed covered up with a caramel colored wool-llama hair blanket. The hotel has satellite TV, so when I get bored with the view, I can watch Law & Order or MTV. In a little while, I'm going down to the hot tub, which also happens to look across the Beagle Channel to the Andes mountains.
If I had known life could be this good, I would have quit a long time ago.
Seriously.
Have a great memorial day weekend, all.
Iceberg, Straight Ahead
On Wednesday and Thursday, I went to the Parque Nacional Los Glaciares. Truly amazing stuff.
I should warn you ahead of time -- this is going to be a long one. If you want the short version, it goes something like "Blah, Blah, Blah...Icebergs...Blah, Blah, Blah...Glaciers...Blah, Blah, Blah...Breathtaking." For everyone else who is bored at work or has nothing better to do, read on.
Wednesday -- In Which I Glimpse Icebergs
The first day, I got up super early to go on a boat excursion on Lake Argentina and check out some of the so-called "smaller" glaciers. It was completely pitch black when we left at 7:30 am -- the sun doesn't rise in El Calafate until around 9:30 am. This was the first time in my life -- and probably the last -- that I managed to be up before the sunrise three days in a row.
We entered the park and started to board the boat, and immediately I realized how underdressed I was for the excursion. I had on a ski coat (without my liner, which I didn't feel like packing) and that was about it. In my sleep-deprived stupor, I couldn't find my gloves. And, I didn't even bother packing a hat or scarf. I'm not sure how after 17 years of schooling it did not occur to me that a trip to see glaciers -- on a boat -- might be cold.
But, I played through. Being cold was not the worst part of the boat trip. No, shortly after I got on board, I realized that by some stroke of horrible luck, every irritating person I had encountered thus far in my trip from Buenos Aires to El Calafate was on the boat. Cranky old American woman who yelled at her husband in the BA airport? Check. Woman I almost took out at the baggage carousel in the El Calafate airport? Check. And, oh yes, all 40 of the loud and pushy, middle-aged Argentine businessmen staying at my hotel? Check.
But again, I played through. The cranky American woman turned out to be nice, and her husband was a ridiculously cute 70+ year-old New Yorker now living in Queens (originally from Brooklyn) who had been married for 50 years (but not to the cranky woman) before his wife died (may she rest in peace). The woman from the baggage carousel also turned out to be nice. The businessmen continued to be overbearing, but these are little problems.
Anyway, the glaciers we saw that day were pretty awesome. But, even cooler were the icebergs. The captain navigated our boat through a minefield of icebergs to get to the Upsala glacier. There were a few (seemingly) close calls, and it was all I could do not to yell out "Iceberg, Straight Ahead" in a goofy cockney accent. (For the record, it's the same British accent I use when saying "Hallo Guvn'r.") Of course, then I would collapse into giggles and the people near me would shoot me strange looks.
The icebergs ranged in size from big to small. They also ranged in color -- some looked like small translucent ice sculptures rising out of the water, others were mammoth chunks of jagged windex-colored ice, and a few even reminded me of the icey "blue" flavor of the striped Good Humor snowcones from my youth. A few pics:
Thursday -- In Which I Glimpse Awesomeness
On Thursday, I went to see the BIG glacier -- Perito Moreno. This glacier is HUGE. It's 5km wide, 30km long, and rises some 60 meters above the water. It's so big that on the other side of the glacier is Chile.
The glaciers are all nestled in the Andes mountains. The first time I saw the Andes mountains was last fall when we all went to Argentine wine country, Mendoza. We went horseback riding on an estancia at the foot of the mountains. It was without question one of the most memorable days of my life, in large part because of the scenery. Beautiful blue sky, puffy white clouds, and the overwhelming and majestic mountains. So, I was excited about seeing the mountains again in Patagonia.
The thing is, I cannot even begin to describe how beautiful the Andes mountains are, and how it makes me feel to be around them. Neither words nor pictures come even close. The same thing is true of the glacier Perito Moreno. It is truly breathtaking. I spent a long time just staring at the glacier at different observation decks. I felt very small and humbled in the presence of the grandeur of the scenery, blessed to have the opportunity to see it in person, and connected with nature in a spiritual (albeit non-religious) kind of way. I'm including some pictures, but these pale in comparison to the real thing:
You can't see it in these pictures, but earlier in the day there was a full double rainbow over the glacier.
One of the things that's cool is when the glacier "calves." Calving is when a piece of the glacier breaks off into the water, forming an iceberg. I saw a huge 50 meter piece of the glacier break into small pieces and fall into the water. You can tell when the glacier is about to calve, because you hear a loud, thunderous rumble.
The other interesting thing is how different the scenery is in El Calafate, the town where I was staying about an hour away. My hotel overlooked Lake Argentina, the same lake that surrounds the glaciers. But, in El Calafate the lake is a beautiful, deep turquoise blue color, as if you were in the Caribbean, whereas near the glaciers it is a more translucenty shade of blue. Also, the land on the way from El Calafate to the glaciers is borderline desert -- brown, flat plateaus with sheep and yellow calafate plants dotting the landscape. There are no buildings around except for a random estancia house every now and then, and you can see across the land for miles.
This is near the entrance to the park.
I should warn you ahead of time -- this is going to be a long one. If you want the short version, it goes something like "Blah, Blah, Blah...Icebergs...Blah, Blah, Blah...Glaciers...Blah, Blah, Blah...Breathtaking." For everyone else who is bored at work or has nothing better to do, read on.
Wednesday -- In Which I Glimpse Icebergs
The first day, I got up super early to go on a boat excursion on Lake Argentina and check out some of the so-called "smaller" glaciers. It was completely pitch black when we left at 7:30 am -- the sun doesn't rise in El Calafate until around 9:30 am. This was the first time in my life -- and probably the last -- that I managed to be up before the sunrise three days in a row.
We entered the park and started to board the boat, and immediately I realized how underdressed I was for the excursion. I had on a ski coat (without my liner, which I didn't feel like packing) and that was about it. In my sleep-deprived stupor, I couldn't find my gloves. And, I didn't even bother packing a hat or scarf. I'm not sure how after 17 years of schooling it did not occur to me that a trip to see glaciers -- on a boat -- might be cold.
But, I played through. Being cold was not the worst part of the boat trip. No, shortly after I got on board, I realized that by some stroke of horrible luck, every irritating person I had encountered thus far in my trip from Buenos Aires to El Calafate was on the boat. Cranky old American woman who yelled at her husband in the BA airport? Check. Woman I almost took out at the baggage carousel in the El Calafate airport? Check. And, oh yes, all 40 of the loud and pushy, middle-aged Argentine businessmen staying at my hotel? Check.
But again, I played through. The cranky American woman turned out to be nice, and her husband was a ridiculously cute 70+ year-old New Yorker now living in Queens (originally from Brooklyn) who had been married for 50 years (but not to the cranky woman) before his wife died (may she rest in peace). The woman from the baggage carousel also turned out to be nice. The businessmen continued to be overbearing, but these are little problems.
Anyway, the glaciers we saw that day were pretty awesome. But, even cooler were the icebergs. The captain navigated our boat through a minefield of icebergs to get to the Upsala glacier. There were a few (seemingly) close calls, and it was all I could do not to yell out "Iceberg, Straight Ahead" in a goofy cockney accent. (For the record, it's the same British accent I use when saying "Hallo Guvn'r.") Of course, then I would collapse into giggles and the people near me would shoot me strange looks.
The icebergs ranged in size from big to small. They also ranged in color -- some looked like small translucent ice sculptures rising out of the water, others were mammoth chunks of jagged windex-colored ice, and a few even reminded me of the icey "blue" flavor of the striped Good Humor snowcones from my youth. A few pics:
Thursday -- In Which I Glimpse Awesomeness
On Thursday, I went to see the BIG glacier -- Perito Moreno. This glacier is HUGE. It's 5km wide, 30km long, and rises some 60 meters above the water. It's so big that on the other side of the glacier is Chile.
The glaciers are all nestled in the Andes mountains. The first time I saw the Andes mountains was last fall when we all went to Argentine wine country, Mendoza. We went horseback riding on an estancia at the foot of the mountains. It was without question one of the most memorable days of my life, in large part because of the scenery. Beautiful blue sky, puffy white clouds, and the overwhelming and majestic mountains. So, I was excited about seeing the mountains again in Patagonia.
The thing is, I cannot even begin to describe how beautiful the Andes mountains are, and how it makes me feel to be around them. Neither words nor pictures come even close. The same thing is true of the glacier Perito Moreno. It is truly breathtaking. I spent a long time just staring at the glacier at different observation decks. I felt very small and humbled in the presence of the grandeur of the scenery, blessed to have the opportunity to see it in person, and connected with nature in a spiritual (albeit non-religious) kind of way. I'm including some pictures, but these pale in comparison to the real thing:
You can't see it in these pictures, but earlier in the day there was a full double rainbow over the glacier.
One of the things that's cool is when the glacier "calves." Calving is when a piece of the glacier breaks off into the water, forming an iceberg. I saw a huge 50 meter piece of the glacier break into small pieces and fall into the water. You can tell when the glacier is about to calve, because you hear a loud, thunderous rumble.
The other interesting thing is how different the scenery is in El Calafate, the town where I was staying about an hour away. My hotel overlooked Lake Argentina, the same lake that surrounds the glaciers. But, in El Calafate the lake is a beautiful, deep turquoise blue color, as if you were in the Caribbean, whereas near the glaciers it is a more translucenty shade of blue. Also, the land on the way from El Calafate to the glaciers is borderline desert -- brown, flat plateaus with sheep and yellow calafate plants dotting the landscape. There are no buildings around except for a random estancia house every now and then, and you can see across the land for miles.
This is near the entrance to the park.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
And Now A Word From Our Sponsors
Okay. They aren't my sponsors, but I wanted to share with you my favorite commercial from Argentina television. I don't know if it's the music or the look on the guy's face or the fact that I've been trying for a month to figure out what the guy says when he arrives at the girl's house, but I find it cute. Which is good. Because it's on all the time.
Oh -- And if anyone who speaks Spanish could tell me what the guy acually says, I'd be forever grateful.
And Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming
Sorry for the brief hiatus. Last time on Jamón Jamón: I was in Buenos Aires having a jolly-good time, and getting ready to leave for Patagonia.
Buenos Aires
Monday was my last night in Buenos Aires, and we went out for final hurrah on the town. Barb, Missy, and I met up at this fantastic bar called Milion. They took an old, fancypants townhouse mansion and turned it into a bar. If we were in New York, I guarantee that this bar would have a velvet rope and bottle service and preppies would be getting The New York Times to write articles about how they have a prep school reunion there every week. (And I would have to come prepared with a huge stack of "you are a douche" cards.)
But, fortunately it's not in New York. So, it is just a normal bar, but in the coolest setting. You enter through a side door off the street, presumably where the carriage used to drop off the lord of the house before heading back to the carriage house. Anyway, you go up a fancypants wrought-iron staircase to the second floor bar. All the architectural details of the old house are there, like old doors and beautiful carved wood molding. But, it's still manages to look hip. It's an eclectic mix of people, too -- from a group of suits enjoying some post-work drinks, to someone entertaining their grandparents, to regular people like us. Even better, it's cheap. Combined, we had six huge glasses of delicious wine -- probably the equivalent of twelve glasses, if the bartender had been filling the glasses to regular level. Total bill for all the drinks: 39 pesos, or about $13 USD. Un-friggin-believable. So, not only is the place spared from being overrun by pretentious status-seeking wannabes, it's ridiculously cheap. Best. Bar. Ever.
Afterwards, we tried to go to my favorite restaurant in BA, La Cabrera, only to find out it was closed on Mondays. I was crushed, as it is truly fantastic. So, we went somewhere else and had some tasty steak and empanadas. Then, I said my goodbyes and headed home to pack. I was pretty sad to leave Buenos Aires. But, I have a strange feeling I'll be back soon enough.
Patagonia
So, Tuesday morning I was off to Patagonia. I was working on about four hours of sleep, and I made my way to the airport looking like I had slept even less. (Of course, there were women there dressed like they were getting ready to go to a charity benefit or Junior League luncheon, or whatever they call it down here. I have always had a serious distrust of anyone who shows up to an early-morning flight in makeup and heels and a small purse. Why don't they have toothpaste on their sleeve and an overstuffed carry-on to schlepp around, like everyone else?)
After several hours in the airport waiting for Aerolineas Argentinas to decide they felt like operating aircrafts, I flew into El Calafate, a small town in southern Patagonia on the edge of the Andes mountains, and a short trip from about a gazillion glaciers.
I have lots more to say about the last two days in El Calafate, but I'm ex-hausted from all this activity and heading off to bed. Also, if I kept going with this novella, no one would read anything. So, like a bad episode of Lost, I'm leaving you hanging. More details -- and hopefully some pictures -- tomorrow.
Buenos Aires
Monday was my last night in Buenos Aires, and we went out for final hurrah on the town. Barb, Missy, and I met up at this fantastic bar called Milion. They took an old, fancypants townhouse mansion and turned it into a bar. If we were in New York, I guarantee that this bar would have a velvet rope and bottle service and preppies would be getting The New York Times to write articles about how they have a prep school reunion there every week. (And I would have to come prepared with a huge stack of "you are a douche" cards.)
But, fortunately it's not in New York. So, it is just a normal bar, but in the coolest setting. You enter through a side door off the street, presumably where the carriage used to drop off the lord of the house before heading back to the carriage house. Anyway, you go up a fancypants wrought-iron staircase to the second floor bar. All the architectural details of the old house are there, like old doors and beautiful carved wood molding. But, it's still manages to look hip. It's an eclectic mix of people, too -- from a group of suits enjoying some post-work drinks, to someone entertaining their grandparents, to regular people like us. Even better, it's cheap. Combined, we had six huge glasses of delicious wine -- probably the equivalent of twelve glasses, if the bartender had been filling the glasses to regular level. Total bill for all the drinks: 39 pesos, or about $13 USD. Un-friggin-believable. So, not only is the place spared from being overrun by pretentious status-seeking wannabes, it's ridiculously cheap. Best. Bar. Ever.
Afterwards, we tried to go to my favorite restaurant in BA, La Cabrera, only to find out it was closed on Mondays. I was crushed, as it is truly fantastic. So, we went somewhere else and had some tasty steak and empanadas. Then, I said my goodbyes and headed home to pack. I was pretty sad to leave Buenos Aires. But, I have a strange feeling I'll be back soon enough.
Patagonia
So, Tuesday morning I was off to Patagonia. I was working on about four hours of sleep, and I made my way to the airport looking like I had slept even less. (Of course, there were women there dressed like they were getting ready to go to a charity benefit or Junior League luncheon, or whatever they call it down here. I have always had a serious distrust of anyone who shows up to an early-morning flight in makeup and heels and a small purse. Why don't they have toothpaste on their sleeve and an overstuffed carry-on to schlepp around, like everyone else?)
After several hours in the airport waiting for Aerolineas Argentinas to decide they felt like operating aircrafts, I flew into El Calafate, a small town in southern Patagonia on the edge of the Andes mountains, and a short trip from about a gazillion glaciers.
I have lots more to say about the last two days in El Calafate, but I'm ex-hausted from all this activity and heading off to bed. Also, if I kept going with this novella, no one would read anything. So, like a bad episode of Lost, I'm leaving you hanging. More details -- and hopefully some pictures -- tomorrow.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
To the Left, To the Left
It was a good weekend here in South America. Very sunny, very mellow. My friend Marcella is now here in BA, which has been much fun. The first time I visited Argentina last fall, I went with Barb, Marcella and our friend Lorie. Now, three of the four of us have quit our jobs as lawyers and are spending some time traveling. Barb was first, then me, then Marcella. (We're anxiously waiting for Lorie to quit, but I think that fact that she's getting married next weekend might throw a wrench in that plan.) Anyway, so we're all here in Argentina for the moment, and it looks like we're all going to Asia next month together, too. I'm very excited.
We spent Friday night out celebrating Marcella's return to BA -- and well, celebrating life in general. It made it very tough for me to get up at the crack of dawn on Saturday to go to Uruguay, but I played through. I took a rapid ferry from Buenos Aires to Colonia, Uruguay -- it's another of those UNESCO World Heritage sites, and apparently one of the 1000 places to see before you die. So, I only have 999 left. (1000 seem like a lot of places, no? I mean, it's not very selective. I can't even think of a 1000 places total in the world, let alone 1000 places that I think I need to see before I die. I think they need to do a little editing of that list.)
So, Colonia was cute. It's a coastal town in Uruguay established in the 16th Century, I think. Lots of cobblestone streets and old buildings. I went to Colonia with Marcella's friend Ashley, and we wandered around the streets and ate lunch on the water, watching the sailboats go by. It was fantastic, but it did make me miss summers in Maryland spent hanging out on the water.
Tomorrow is my last day in Buenos Aires before I leave for Patagonia. I'm planning on taking care of some last minute errands and shopping, and hanging out with Barb and Missy. I can't believe a month has gone by so quickly. I also can't believe that we have only known Missy for a couple of weeks. In my old life, knowing someone two weeks meant that you probably had dinner once or something. But here, Barb, Missy and I have been running around the last two weeks as if we have all been friends for years -- sipping fancy cocktails in the afternoon, singing Beyonce's Irreplaceable, scouting out high priced hookers in hotel bars over sterling silver bowls of pringles, and generally having a great time. I think it's a completely different timetable when your life centers around leisure. And, I also think that traveling makes you more open to meeting people in a way that I had neither the time nor the energy for when I was in NY.
In some ways, my trip reminds me of being in college, when your whole life was basically about new adventures and new people. There was a certain feeling when you were younger that anything could happen, and your whole life could change completely in a moment. As I grew older and more jaded, I lost that feeling of hope and promise and excitement. I'm glad to have it back, even if it turns out to be only for a few months.
We spent Friday night out celebrating Marcella's return to BA -- and well, celebrating life in general. It made it very tough for me to get up at the crack of dawn on Saturday to go to Uruguay, but I played through. I took a rapid ferry from Buenos Aires to Colonia, Uruguay -- it's another of those UNESCO World Heritage sites, and apparently one of the 1000 places to see before you die. So, I only have 999 left. (1000 seem like a lot of places, no? I mean, it's not very selective. I can't even think of a 1000 places total in the world, let alone 1000 places that I think I need to see before I die. I think they need to do a little editing of that list.)
So, Colonia was cute. It's a coastal town in Uruguay established in the 16th Century, I think. Lots of cobblestone streets and old buildings. I went to Colonia with Marcella's friend Ashley, and we wandered around the streets and ate lunch on the water, watching the sailboats go by. It was fantastic, but it did make me miss summers in Maryland spent hanging out on the water.
Tomorrow is my last day in Buenos Aires before I leave for Patagonia. I'm planning on taking care of some last minute errands and shopping, and hanging out with Barb and Missy. I can't believe a month has gone by so quickly. I also can't believe that we have only known Missy for a couple of weeks. In my old life, knowing someone two weeks meant that you probably had dinner once or something. But here, Barb, Missy and I have been running around the last two weeks as if we have all been friends for years -- sipping fancy cocktails in the afternoon, singing Beyonce's Irreplaceable, scouting out high priced hookers in hotel bars over sterling silver bowls of pringles, and generally having a great time. I think it's a completely different timetable when your life centers around leisure. And, I also think that traveling makes you more open to meeting people in a way that I had neither the time nor the energy for when I was in NY.
In some ways, my trip reminds me of being in college, when your whole life was basically about new adventures and new people. There was a certain feeling when you were younger that anything could happen, and your whole life could change completely in a moment. As I grew older and more jaded, I lost that feeling of hope and promise and excitement. I'm glad to have it back, even if it turns out to be only for a few months.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Bangkok, Oriental Setting
I just bought my tickets for the next leg of my trip after South America: Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand. Thanks again to everyone who passed on good ideas about where to go and what to do in SE Asia. (I'm open to any other suggestions.)
I can't wait to go there...and I can't wait to ride an elephant in Thailand. Until then, I'll continue to hum One Night in Bangkok. (They play that a lot around here, being in love with the 80's and everything.)
I can't wait to go there...and I can't wait to ride an elephant in Thailand. Until then, I'll continue to hum One Night in Bangkok. (They play that a lot around here, being in love with the 80's and everything.)
Thursday, May 17, 2007
P.S.
I forgot to mention that on our walk over to Palermo yesterday Barb's purse mysteriously disappeared. I think it was either the work of a very talented purse snatcher or a faulty strap. We're still not sure. In any case, Barb is very prepared for such scenarios, and didn't suffer too great a loss.
My favorite part -- if it's not too rude to have a favorite part in this kind of unpleasant situation -- is that Barb was less upset about losing the purse, than the fact that she had lost a bunch of small bills and change that she had been hording for weeks. (Like I said -- Smalls bills are so valuable that people will resort to a life of crime and purse-snatching just to get a hold of some.)
My favorite part -- if it's not too rude to have a favorite part in this kind of unpleasant situation -- is that Barb was less upset about losing the purse, than the fact that she had lost a bunch of small bills and change that she had been hording for weeks. (Like I said -- Smalls bills are so valuable that people will resort to a life of crime and purse-snatching just to get a hold of some.)
Hot, Hot, Hot
I'm leaving Buenos Aires in just under a week for Patagonia, and I can't believe the time has gone so quickly. Tonight -- or should I say this afternoon -- I met up with Barb and Missy to have lunch and wander around Palermo, ducking into various shops along the way.
Palermo is the neighborhood next to mine (Recoleta). Recolata is kind of like the Upper East Side, with a lot of fancy hotels and shops. (I learned on Monday that the Alvear Palace, one of the fanciest hotels in BA, which also happens to be around the corner from my apartment, will bring you Pringles in a sterling silver bowl when you order a drink there. It's right up your alley, Doogs. I have decided that's how I'm eating Pringles from now on. Enough of this can business.)
But, I digress. Palermo is kind of more like the Village. Well, I say Palermo, but there are actually a bunch of different subsets of Palermo: Palermo proper, Palermo Chico (near the MALBA art museum), and Palermo Viejo. Palermo Viejo is where I like to go out for dinner or drinks, and it is broken up into Palermo Soho and Palermo Hollywood. (The two mini-barrios are separated by railroad tracks. Palermo Soho is hip/chic, whereas Palermo Hollywood is literally on the wrong side of the tracks -- it's pretty cool, but still has plenty of areas that have not yet been gentrified.) Confused yet? It took me the better part of a month to finally figure out what part of Palermo I was in. Don't ask me to tell you why they are called Palermo Soho or Palermo Hollywood.
Anyhoo, I went out with Barb and Missy this afternoon in Palermo Viejo, and we ended up shopping, going to an extended happy hour (which exists in name here, if not really in spirit -- Portenos aren't big drinkers), and then going for a late (spicy hot) dinner at one of the three Thai/Vietnamese restaurants in town. After weeks of tasty but mild beef and cheese and jamon, the three-alarm curry was a nice change-up.
All in all, it was a good day. As I was out tonight, I was thinking that I really could continue like this forever.
Palermo is the neighborhood next to mine (Recoleta). Recolata is kind of like the Upper East Side, with a lot of fancy hotels and shops. (I learned on Monday that the Alvear Palace, one of the fanciest hotels in BA, which also happens to be around the corner from my apartment, will bring you Pringles in a sterling silver bowl when you order a drink there. It's right up your alley, Doogs. I have decided that's how I'm eating Pringles from now on. Enough of this can business.)
But, I digress. Palermo is kind of more like the Village. Well, I say Palermo, but there are actually a bunch of different subsets of Palermo: Palermo proper, Palermo Chico (near the MALBA art museum), and Palermo Viejo. Palermo Viejo is where I like to go out for dinner or drinks, and it is broken up into Palermo Soho and Palermo Hollywood. (The two mini-barrios are separated by railroad tracks. Palermo Soho is hip/chic, whereas Palermo Hollywood is literally on the wrong side of the tracks -- it's pretty cool, but still has plenty of areas that have not yet been gentrified.) Confused yet? It took me the better part of a month to finally figure out what part of Palermo I was in. Don't ask me to tell you why they are called Palermo Soho or Palermo Hollywood.
Anyhoo, I went out with Barb and Missy this afternoon in Palermo Viejo, and we ended up shopping, going to an extended happy hour (which exists in name here, if not really in spirit -- Portenos aren't big drinkers), and then going for a late (spicy hot) dinner at one of the three Thai/Vietnamese restaurants in town. After weeks of tasty but mild beef and cheese and jamon, the three-alarm curry was a nice change-up.
All in all, it was a good day. As I was out tonight, I was thinking that I really could continue like this forever.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Gooooooolllllllll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In my next life, I want to be a soccer hooligan. Wait -- I take that back. I want to be a South American futbol player. Millions of fans adore them. Plus -- they get to wear cleats, cute striped knee-high socks, and slide across the grass. (I love it when they slide, or when they all line up in front of the goal in a wall of men.)
There are two soccer teams in Buenos Aires -- Boca Juniors and River Plate. I was told that Boca fans are more gritty compared to the bourgeoisie who root for River Plate. I took that to mean the Boca crowd would be rowdier. So, with that, I went to a soccer game last night at La Bombonera (tr: The Chocolate Box), the Boca Juniors' stadium.
We got to the stadium about the same time as Boca arrived. They pulled up into a bus, and then throngs of fans threw an impromptu mini-ticker tape parade while the players exited their tour bus. Awesome!
Our seats for the game were in the upper deck, where the rows of seats ascend in a super steep angle. It took about a good 45 minutes before I wasn't freaking out about how high up we were and how easy it would be to tumble down the steps to my death.
I recovered, and watched the game. The soccer was cool, but it was more interesting to see how excited the fans were. One whole end of the stadium is reserved for the die-hard fans. They jumped up and down the entire game -- over two hours. Also, they have their own drum section that lead the many ballads that the fans sing to the team. The singing went on non-stop for the whole game, too. As far as I can tell, most of the songs were something like: We sing, Boca, We love you even more, Come what may. I was told not to be surprised if the stadium started shaking from all the jumping, but that never happened.
Interestingly, there is a separate section just for the visiting teams' fans -- it is separated from the rest of the seats in the stadium by a twelve-foot wall covered with barbed wire, and a line of policemen. Also, when the game is over, the visitor fans have a separate entrance, and everyone is held at the bottom of the stadium while the visitors leave.
I didn't see any brawls between fans of the two different teams, but I was amused at how people here approach injuries on the field. Probably 3 or 4 Arsenal players fell down during the game and didn't get up until the medics came out. Unlike the US, where everyone claps when an injured person is taken off the field, the Boca fans jeered (by whistling, if you can believe it) and then sang a song that went something like: Let's go, Let's play, Get your faking arse off the freakin' field. Okay, well maybe not that last part. But that was the sentiment, if not the literal translation.
It's really amazing to see how passionate the fans are.
Also of note: at the game, they serve the usual hot dogs and hamburgers, but also something called Choripan. It's basically a delicious Chorizo (sausage) sandwich, all for the grand total of roughly $1.30. But, they do not sell beer in the stadium. I guess everyone is rowdy enough without the cerveza. That's probably okay, though, since Argentine beer isn't that good. At half time, we all joined the mob of people trying to get a Choripan. There are no lines, just a mass of several dozen people surrounding a woman at the grill and waving small-bills around. (Small bills, by the way, are horded, here. I have no idea why having change is such a big deal, but it is. You seriously plan your day trying to figure out ways to acquire more small bills, short of resorting to prostitution or street miming.)
In the end, Boca tied with Arsenal 1-1. I found the tie very unsatisfying -- someone should win, dammit. (It would have been the perfect time for goal kicks and the wall of men.) The guide who took us to the game was much more zen about it. He said that it was not a loss, and that they would have the opportunity to come out and play again. His reaction surprised me a little, since he's kind of a super fan, with Boca tattoos and Boca paraphernalia from 15 years ago that he superstitiously wears to every game lest Boca may lose. But, I guess it's like the songs they sing about Boca -- Boca fans have an unconditional love for their team.
There are two soccer teams in Buenos Aires -- Boca Juniors and River Plate. I was told that Boca fans are more gritty compared to the bourgeoisie who root for River Plate. I took that to mean the Boca crowd would be rowdier. So, with that, I went to a soccer game last night at La Bombonera (tr: The Chocolate Box), the Boca Juniors' stadium.
We got to the stadium about the same time as Boca arrived. They pulled up into a bus, and then throngs of fans threw an impromptu mini-ticker tape parade while the players exited their tour bus. Awesome!
Our seats for the game were in the upper deck, where the rows of seats ascend in a super steep angle. It took about a good 45 minutes before I wasn't freaking out about how high up we were and how easy it would be to tumble down the steps to my death.
I recovered, and watched the game. The soccer was cool, but it was more interesting to see how excited the fans were. One whole end of the stadium is reserved for the die-hard fans. They jumped up and down the entire game -- over two hours. Also, they have their own drum section that lead the many ballads that the fans sing to the team. The singing went on non-stop for the whole game, too. As far as I can tell, most of the songs were something like: We sing, Boca, We love you even more, Come what may. I was told not to be surprised if the stadium started shaking from all the jumping, but that never happened.
Interestingly, there is a separate section just for the visiting teams' fans -- it is separated from the rest of the seats in the stadium by a twelve-foot wall covered with barbed wire, and a line of policemen. Also, when the game is over, the visitor fans have a separate entrance, and everyone is held at the bottom of the stadium while the visitors leave.
I didn't see any brawls between fans of the two different teams, but I was amused at how people here approach injuries on the field. Probably 3 or 4 Arsenal players fell down during the game and didn't get up until the medics came out. Unlike the US, where everyone claps when an injured person is taken off the field, the Boca fans jeered (by whistling, if you can believe it) and then sang a song that went something like: Let's go, Let's play, Get your faking arse off the freakin' field. Okay, well maybe not that last part. But that was the sentiment, if not the literal translation.
It's really amazing to see how passionate the fans are.
Also of note: at the game, they serve the usual hot dogs and hamburgers, but also something called Choripan. It's basically a delicious Chorizo (sausage) sandwich, all for the grand total of roughly $1.30. But, they do not sell beer in the stadium. I guess everyone is rowdy enough without the cerveza. That's probably okay, though, since Argentine beer isn't that good. At half time, we all joined the mob of people trying to get a Choripan. There are no lines, just a mass of several dozen people surrounding a woman at the grill and waving small-bills around. (Small bills, by the way, are horded, here. I have no idea why having change is such a big deal, but it is. You seriously plan your day trying to figure out ways to acquire more small bills, short of resorting to prostitution or street miming.)
In the end, Boca tied with Arsenal 1-1. I found the tie very unsatisfying -- someone should win, dammit. (It would have been the perfect time for goal kicks and the wall of men.) The guide who took us to the game was much more zen about it. He said that it was not a loss, and that they would have the opportunity to come out and play again. His reaction surprised me a little, since he's kind of a super fan, with Boca tattoos and Boca paraphernalia from 15 years ago that he superstitiously wears to every game lest Boca may lose. But, I guess it's like the songs they sing about Boca -- Boca fans have an unconditional love for their team.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Chile - Part Two
So we're back from Chile. It was such a fun trip. Barb, Missy and I flew to Santiago for a few days, with a day trip in the middle to Valparaiso. I wish we had spent more time in Chile, but for some reason that I don't know remember, we only booked a few days away.
I had heard mixed reviews about Santiago, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Some things turned out to be true -- as reported, there is a thick layer of smog that blankets a good portion of the city, and makes viewing the nearby mountains difficult. But, the area of town we stayed in (Providencia) was pleasant and sunny, with no smog -- and lots of bars serving pisco sours and playing awesome 80's alternative music.
We decided over drinks that Santiago is the Vince Vaughn to Buenos Aires' Brad Pitt. Sure, BA is beautiful, glamorous, photographs well, and is the subject of many articles. But Santiago is cute in its own way, and, I think, a bit more easygoing. What I will probably remember the most is how friendly and outgoing the people we met in Santiago were. Oh -- and also that for some strange reason there are a lot of hot dog restaurants.
We took a day trip to Valparaiso, a smallish port town on the coast of Chile. Valp'o is apparently a UNESCO World Heritage Site, although I really have no idea what that means -- it's just something I keep seeing in guide books. Except for the few blocks near the water, the rest of the town is built into a mountain, with colorful houses stacked atop each other all the way to the top. We wandered around the various streets and checked out the house of Pablo Neruda, a Chilean poet.
Some pictures (if you are into that kind of thing):
The town is full of vibrant colors -- either from the house paint, the art, or even the graffiti -- much of which is stenciled repeatedly onto walls. (If you look, there's a little Sid Vicious stencil in the left hand side of the one picture.)
I had heard mixed reviews about Santiago, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Some things turned out to be true -- as reported, there is a thick layer of smog that blankets a good portion of the city, and makes viewing the nearby mountains difficult. But, the area of town we stayed in (Providencia) was pleasant and sunny, with no smog -- and lots of bars serving pisco sours and playing awesome 80's alternative music.
We decided over drinks that Santiago is the Vince Vaughn to Buenos Aires' Brad Pitt. Sure, BA is beautiful, glamorous, photographs well, and is the subject of many articles. But Santiago is cute in its own way, and, I think, a bit more easygoing. What I will probably remember the most is how friendly and outgoing the people we met in Santiago were. Oh -- and also that for some strange reason there are a lot of hot dog restaurants.
We took a day trip to Valparaiso, a smallish port town on the coast of Chile. Valp'o is apparently a UNESCO World Heritage Site, although I really have no idea what that means -- it's just something I keep seeing in guide books. Except for the few blocks near the water, the rest of the town is built into a mountain, with colorful houses stacked atop each other all the way to the top. We wandered around the various streets and checked out the house of Pablo Neruda, a Chilean poet.
Some pictures (if you are into that kind of thing):
The town is full of vibrant colors -- either from the house paint, the art, or even the graffiti -- much of which is stenciled repeatedly onto walls. (If you look, there's a little Sid Vicious stencil in the left hand side of the one picture.)
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Monday, May 7, 2007
Everything's Gone Green
I'm heading out to Chile for a few days. But, I leave you with a little gift until I return. By request, I happened to take some photos the last time I was in the neighborhood near the Cat Park (aka the Botanical Gardens). Enjoy!
Take me to your leader.
More cats.
The stagnant fountain adds to the Grey Gardens feel.
Just so you know I'm not completely heartless -- kittens!
Take me to your leader.
More cats.
The stagnant fountain adds to the Grey Gardens feel.
Just so you know I'm not completely heartless -- kittens!
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Don't Stop Believin'
Everything 1980's is very popular here in Buenos Aires. I see people wearing 80's style clothing on the streets with no apparent irony -- off the shoulder numbers, or slouchy boots, or sequin headbands. (I've also seen a few trucker hats, too, which I associate more with 2002 Billy-Burg Hipster, although in reality the original incarnation was in the 80's.) The 80's fashion is probably a trend that the portenos should embrace one last brief time for posterity, and then set it free.
But, the music. The music. I'm loving the 80's music. Because, it's not just mainstream 80's. I'm hearing tons of Cure and New Order and I'm loving it. Last night Barb and I met up with our new ex-pat friend Missy at a local bar. (Thanks for the intro, Kelly.) I seriously felt like I was in high school again -- apart from the fact that we were drinking $6 beers (instead of Bartles & James) and were out way past curfew. They played New Order and Depeche Mode and Blondie and even the somewhat obscure song by Camoflauge, "Love is a Shield." (I hesitate to call Camoflauge a one-hit wonder, since I'm not even sure the song qualifies as a hit. Still, it was a hit to me, and I played it over and over again when I was full of after school, teenage angst.)
I'm surprised at how many lyrics I still remember from the old songs. It made me wish that my friends from high school, Becky and Dana, were there with me to sing it out. It also made me want to track down some Kar-a-oke. Suffice it to say that the music is making me very happy.
Also making me happy -- my friend Danielle and her mom arrived this morning. We just spent the afternoon wandering around a street fair in my neighborhood and the Recoleta Cemetery. The cemetery is an old, gothic, Mausoleum-filled cemetery, home to the grave of Evita Peron and many, many feral cats. (As far as I can tell, there is no direct connection between the two, although both have helped make Andrew Lloyd Webber a very rich man.)
But, the music. The music. I'm loving the 80's music. Because, it's not just mainstream 80's. I'm hearing tons of Cure and New Order and I'm loving it. Last night Barb and I met up with our new ex-pat friend Missy at a local bar. (Thanks for the intro, Kelly.) I seriously felt like I was in high school again -- apart from the fact that we were drinking $6 beers (instead of Bartles & James) and were out way past curfew. They played New Order and Depeche Mode and Blondie and even the somewhat obscure song by Camoflauge, "Love is a Shield." (I hesitate to call Camoflauge a one-hit wonder, since I'm not even sure the song qualifies as a hit. Still, it was a hit to me, and I played it over and over again when I was full of after school, teenage angst.)
I'm surprised at how many lyrics I still remember from the old songs. It made me wish that my friends from high school, Becky and Dana, were there with me to sing it out. It also made me want to track down some Kar-a-oke. Suffice it to say that the music is making me very happy.
Also making me happy -- my friend Danielle and her mom arrived this morning. We just spent the afternoon wandering around a street fair in my neighborhood and the Recoleta Cemetery. The cemetery is an old, gothic, Mausoleum-filled cemetery, home to the grave of Evita Peron and many, many feral cats. (As far as I can tell, there is no direct connection between the two, although both have helped make Andrew Lloyd Webber a very rich man.)
Saturday, May 5, 2007
The Long Hot Summer
So, it's fall in Buenos Aires -- essentially May is their November. Yet, it is so hot and humid right now, it feels like I'm living out the movie A Time to Kill. Except, instead of looking all glowy and glisteny and sipping lemonade, I feel like I came out of a swamp. And there's no Matthew McConaughey around trying to pretend that he's a lawyer, instead of a pot-smoking, naked bongo player possibly having a clandestine affair with america's beloved sports hero, Lance Armstrong. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)
The interesting thing is that the Portenos think it's kind of cold out. I see people walking down the street in a jacket and scarf, and it's 70 degrees out. I guess because the weather is pretty mellow here, they get excited when it drops slightly, and they get to break out their fall clothing. It reminds me of when I was a kid and always wanted to wear a new outfit to the first day of school -- even though September in Baltimore was usually swampy and it was completely inappropriate to wear a sweater and jeans to school. Proof in point -- the second day, I always wore shorts.
I went to dinner tonight with Barb at this awesome Italian place we stumbled onto. I love BA restaurants. While we were waiting for a table, they brought us Champagne to ease the pain that we had to wait about five minutes for a table. (They also do that at my favorite restaurant, La Cabrera, too. More on La Cabrera later.) We had apps and a fantastic bottle of wine and yummy pasta dishes. Total bill was less than $40. And, they brought us a little cordial of Limoncello at the end, just for good measure. It's so civilized.
So now, I just got home from dinner. (If you don't wake up until 2 pm, then dinner at 11:30 pm makes perfect sense). My belly is full of yummy food, and I'm going to try to do something to moderate the swampiness. Sweet dreams, all.
The interesting thing is that the Portenos think it's kind of cold out. I see people walking down the street in a jacket and scarf, and it's 70 degrees out. I guess because the weather is pretty mellow here, they get excited when it drops slightly, and they get to break out their fall clothing. It reminds me of when I was a kid and always wanted to wear a new outfit to the first day of school -- even though September in Baltimore was usually swampy and it was completely inappropriate to wear a sweater and jeans to school. Proof in point -- the second day, I always wore shorts.
I went to dinner tonight with Barb at this awesome Italian place we stumbled onto. I love BA restaurants. While we were waiting for a table, they brought us Champagne to ease the pain that we had to wait about five minutes for a table. (They also do that at my favorite restaurant, La Cabrera, too. More on La Cabrera later.) We had apps and a fantastic bottle of wine and yummy pasta dishes. Total bill was less than $40. And, they brought us a little cordial of Limoncello at the end, just for good measure. It's so civilized.
So now, I just got home from dinner. (If you don't wake up until 2 pm, then dinner at 11:30 pm makes perfect sense). My belly is full of yummy food, and I'm going to try to do something to moderate the swampiness. Sweet dreams, all.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
My Super Sweet Sunny Afternoon
I had the best of intentions to go to the museum yesterday, again. But, I was walking over to the museum through the park, and it was just too sunny out. So, I decided to lounge on a park bench and spend the afternoon reading my book and people watching.
Others apparently had a similar idea. There was this one woman, though, who wandered into the park with a HUGE, super-sized, two-weeks-in-Europe, suitcase. I was kind of curious what she had in the suitcase. A picnic? A puppet show? Illegal drugs to sell? After about ten minutes, she pulled a radio out of the case. I waited. Fifteen minutes later, about five or six people showed up. Suitcase Woman pulled some sparkly hats out of the case, distributed them to the group, and then started teaching everyone a choreographed dance routine.
My first thought was that this was some sort of practice for a South American episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen. But, the dance lacked the precocious raunchiness that characterizes most SS16 dances. Also, instead of singling out one person, humiliating her for no apparent reason except maybe that she's prettier than the birthday girl, and then telling her that she can no longer be a VIP at the party, these people all seemed to be getting along.
The group stopped dancing, and then they put on garbage bags, also from the Super Sweet Suitcase. Interestingly, they not only put the garbage bags on top, but also over their legs, as if they were signing up for the sack race at their dad's annual company picnic. After that, they walked -- or hopped -- over to me and asked me to take a picture. Which I did. (And then snuck one on my own camera.)
Then, about five or six other people walked over and joined the group. The new people asked me to film a video of the Super Sweet Garbage Bag Dance Troupe, using their digital camera. I was expecting someone to do something exciting -- like the dance, but with the trashbags on. No one actually did anything, however. After about twenty seconds of filming a bunch of people standing around, they said thanks and took back their camera. And, even more strange, the people that asked me to film it just stood next to me. I mean -- why bother asking a stranger to film something if you aren't going to be in the film? Maybe they just wanted to direct. (Seriously -- who doesn't these days?)
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
May Day!!!
Today is a national holiday in Argentina, May Day. I'm not entirely sure what everyone is celebrating. I'm told that it's sort of like our Thanksgiving, but somehow I doubt that there will be turkey and stuffing (or anything that doesn't involve mayonesa, Argentina's favorite condiment). I've asked around whether there are any parades or festivals or maypoles or whatnot, and so far, I've heard of nothing -- only that maybe people will catch up on sleep, and that everything is closed today.
It's been a pretty chill few days. The weather was sunny and dreamy the last few days. Yesterday, I went on a very fun bike tour around town and I now find myself sunburned and covered in mosquito bites. But it was worth it. Over the weekend, Barb and I met up in Palermo to wander around, and also to have dinner at a fondue place. (I love this place: $25 total for the dinner for both of us, including one of the best bottles of wine on the list.)
A number of peeps from home have asked about my Spanish. It's kind of hit or miss -- I can function, and am great at ordering in restaurants, but I can't really emote or carry a conversation. For the most part, people are happy that you are just trying. But not always... The other day, I took a cab back to my apartment and the cab driver was trying to have a conversation with me. I told him that I didn't understand, and that I only spoke "a little Spanish." Even after this, he kept asking me questions in Spanish, and I told him again that I didn't understand. His response, in Spanish: "A little Spanish?" followed by uncontrollable belly laughter.
He clearly sucked, but it got me thinking about taking Spanish lessons. I think that I'm going to try and take some classes. I hate not being able to talk to people, other than to live out the dialogues from my seventh grade Spanish class, which I still remember, word for word. For example:
1: Buenos dias, Senor.
2: Buenos dias, Senorita.
1: Como esta usted?
2: Muy bien gracias, y usted?
1: Asi, Asi.
2: Ay -- lo siento.
1: Adios. Hasta la vista.
2: Adios. Hasta manana.
Thanks, Senor Randolph. I'm grateful for everything we learned, but if only you had taught us a dialogue about how to make an appointment for a hot stone massage.
It's been a pretty chill few days. The weather was sunny and dreamy the last few days. Yesterday, I went on a very fun bike tour around town and I now find myself sunburned and covered in mosquito bites. But it was worth it. Over the weekend, Barb and I met up in Palermo to wander around, and also to have dinner at a fondue place. (I love this place: $25 total for the dinner for both of us, including one of the best bottles of wine on the list.)
A number of peeps from home have asked about my Spanish. It's kind of hit or miss -- I can function, and am great at ordering in restaurants, but I can't really emote or carry a conversation. For the most part, people are happy that you are just trying. But not always... The other day, I took a cab back to my apartment and the cab driver was trying to have a conversation with me. I told him that I didn't understand, and that I only spoke "a little Spanish." Even after this, he kept asking me questions in Spanish, and I told him again that I didn't understand. His response, in Spanish: "A little Spanish?" followed by uncontrollable belly laughter.
He clearly sucked, but it got me thinking about taking Spanish lessons. I think that I'm going to try and take some classes. I hate not being able to talk to people, other than to live out the dialogues from my seventh grade Spanish class, which I still remember, word for word. For example:
1: Buenos dias, Senor.
2: Buenos dias, Senorita.
1: Como esta usted?
2: Muy bien gracias, y usted?
1: Asi, Asi.
2: Ay -- lo siento.
1: Adios. Hasta la vista.
2: Adios. Hasta manana.
Thanks, Senor Randolph. I'm grateful for everything we learned, but if only you had taught us a dialogue about how to make an appointment for a hot stone massage.
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