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.)
Friday, May 18, 2007
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!
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