Bloggo de Steinberro

Missing Buenos Aires.... and home

2007-05-28T12:45:00.000-07:00

I Woke to the sound of high pitched series of a honking horn from a
passing car seven stories below. Although I have
become somewhat accustomed to this familiar noise
penetrating our apartment walls, it was sufficient to
wake me, and since the clock registered 6:30 am I
decided to make some coffee.

No matter where one is in the city of Quito, honking horns will
be heard. Apparently unaware that there is a lever on
the left side of the steering wheel which signals to
others that a driver is going to make a turn, drivers
here opt for the horn. This neat little device is
used for blasting at pedestrians that wait on
the side of the street for them to pass by, just in
case they were thinking about jumping in front of traffic.

Never a taxi if you want one, but they are eager to make
their presence known with a few beeps of the horn when someone is walking the sidewalk, just in case they do not know they want a taxi.

Then you come to a stop light with a line of waiting cars, all of which blast
away the second the light turns green; worse still is
the gas delivery truck that carries propane tanks in
the back, who probably for safety measures as well as
to notify the neighborhood that he has arrived,
constantly raps out the same beep beep be be be beep!
Every morning about 10 he drives first down our side
of the street, whips around to the other for a second
pass of beep beep be be be beep.

He is followed up by the fruit delivery truck armed
with a bull horn as he drives the same route
announcing what I think is the days specials, but
since he is talking at such a speedy monotone rate, I
do not know if I could quite make out what he was
saying even if the loud speaker were clear enough to
understand. I always have the feeling that I am in a
Muslim city playing one of the days five
prayers through the speakers, although the locals are
probably just as fanatical about crosses and bleeding
dead Jesus.

Worser, is to encounter their round about. This a four way intersection
of main streets that has no lights or stop signs, but a cirle in the middle of the street, which provides the opportunity to spin around this circle and off into what ever direction the driver wants to go, I can't really explain it because I do not understand it. Crossing these "redondeles" on foot, as well in cars I would
imagine, is a complete mess, and very dangerous. For
this reason I have mapped out my city excursions to
avoid these disastrous and frustrating situations,
which of course solicit a chorus of honking horns.

Unfortunately, the propensity with which the locals
honk their car horns is about the only personality
that is unique to Quito. It is a city without a
personality. The American influence is very strong,
the architecture is American styled, step inside the
mall and you could be in any mid-western state. They
love chicken, I have gotta give them that, but it is
KFC that stands tall, there is a three story KFC 3 blocks from here, and on almost every other block, along with McDonalds, and Burger King of course.

When I asked about local food, I got the same response as
in Peru, so I guess it is questionable who is the original maker of Ceviche, but I am going with Peru for the purposes of this blog. Unlike the strong native influence
of the natives in Peru and Bolivia, here, there are few
traditionally dressed folks, instead the style is more
like America, but maybe from a bad year during the 70s,
(maybe all those clothes were sent down here.)

The cars unlike the newer small European models found in
Argentina, are of the American class, SUV. Of course
not as big or as lifted, and of course that is for the
folks that can afford one, the rest of society is relegated to the 35 yr old buses that spew clouds of exhaust as they pass by. Today I even had a car
shaped like a red bull can pull up to me, crack one open and hand it to me, like so many times in downtown San Diego.

What better place to delve into their culture than in the TV. We have a few channels with our television, which are
mainly latin soap operas, filmed in other countries,
that are played ALL day long into the night, and all
of them containing the word LOVE in the title. The
channels that do not play soap operas play videos all
day long as they love to sing and dance. The
videos consist of the same horse clopping music that
we have been hearing since Bolivia. Bad keyboard
sound effects accompany what is usually 3 or four women
standing in a line, with thick thighs in a short
skirts, and cowboy boots up to and covering their
knees. These videos, of local college station
quality, consist of the girls and also guys in suits
that are too big, swaying back and forth passionately
singing to the horse clopping, with special visual effects are produced by
the means of doing a spin every 6th beat. Latin rap
is constant on another channel, known as reggae tone, I
prefer the constant Shakira we had been hearing until
this city.

Not even soccer is popular here. Of course they have
a league and since there are no other sports there is
a game or two a week. But the level of play does not
begin to compare to that of Argentina, much less
Europe, and certainly the level of fanaticism is
lacking to say the least. They are trying to promote the sport here with a new program, or so I read in the paper, but the people seem to be so passive that sports just
are not going to work. The other popular sport is
fast walking. It is worth mentioning that the people
here are very small, Sarah is tall, I am almost a
giant.

You would think then, that I must be drinking some
beers to pass the time in this dull city. While I
have managed to choke down a few of the local beers,
it is hardly worth the effort. Unlike Bs As, where
the local brew offered a light, middle, and dark beer,
the only brew of Ecuador is like Budweiser, but not
even close to as good, and I am no fan of Budweiser.

So what is this city good at? This is a great place to learn Español񯬮 They speak a
very clear version of the language, and the classes
are very cheap. Much unlike those in Bs As where we
paid a lot of money to listen to instructors that
speak a dialect of Spanish very unique to Argentina,
which is a greatlanguagee, but one that I could not
understand and therefore no so great para apprender Español.
But picked up some great sayings, from other English speaking countries.

Here it is quite the opposite. I have not spoken any English except with
Sarah, although we try to use Español until it just seems ridiculous to stumble through conversations. But this stop has been great for improving my Spanish,
and so I must say that Ecuador is a great place for
learning, but to practice is another matter.

The people are also quite theoppositee of Bs As, where the people were so nice and
eager to talk, even if I could not understand a word
of their dialect. Of course I cannot generalize for everyone here, but I always
have the feeling that I am a foreign invader gringo. There is little extra talk than what is necessary for whatever transaction is taking place. However, they probably have the right to feel this way.

The people here were conquered by the Incas for what
we were told was religious reasons as it is at the
center of the earth, only to be conquered again fifty
years later, and be subjected to 300 years of ruthless
colonial rule during which the natives were used as
slave labor force to supply Spain with natural
resources, of which mainly it wanted gold and silver.
There was little investment into the colonies of
Spain, except new bureaucrats to make sure that the
indigenous worked and that the resources extracted
would be sent back to Spain. Therefore the Spaniards
here had to do little work and lived very comfortable
lives on the backs of the indigenous. This very
corrupt society has carried on after the revolution
for independence, which just meant that the resources
would no longer be sent back to Spain, but stay with
the Europeans who had come over. However, without any
industrial growth of their own for three hundred years, they were
soon found KFC and McDonalds taking over their city and their exports going north instead of to Spain.

Now 60% of their exports go to the US, and I was told, sold back
to them at huge prices after processing. Remarkably, this city is actually quite expensive. They use the US dollar as their currency and the prices are usually about the same as at home. I do not understand how they can live considering that I read their average monthly income is slightly over 350 dollars for men, and slightly under 300 for women. How they can live on this I do not know.

According to the people that I have talked to, they
have their hopes pinned on Hugo Chavez. This is a guy
that nationalized telephone and oil companies that
were owned previously by US and EU companies, making
them the property of Venezuela, and I believe there was no
compensation for the companies. He has been
redistributing property, and changed the constitution
to allow his "re-election" indefinitely. I put this
in quotations because starting today he has assumed
control of the main television station in Venezuela
that has been criticizing his rule, saying that the
station will belong to the "people." However, 70% of
the people, according to a poll intoday'ss paper, want
the station to remain as it has¨been for the last 53 years.
However, as I would imagine the reaction would be in the US, the majority are
not concerned about their freedom of speech, but their
tv shows. The administration wanted to do the same with PBS because it is too "left" leaning.

(I just saw a title on Yahoo that Venezuelan troops fired on Protesters, but have heard nothing from the news down here yet.)

Chavez now controls the most viewed tv station because
they were among other things "terrorists." With no other voices to be heard in the country Chavez is a lock for Presidency for a few decades. Forming a
strong bond with Bolivia and Ecuador, Chavez is
gaining a lot of popularity mainly by delivering
speech after speech blasting the US Pres., and
therefore gains overwhelming support.

There is also a battle for freedom of speech here in Ecuador as the President, allied with Chavez, is attacking the press. "They do not show the good things
about the war" he says. (Oh wait, different country.)
Correa, the Pres. of Ecuador, has called for the resignation of certain writers
here and it is an ongoing theme in the papers.
However, there was a special section in the paper last
week which I am going to save because it was, in my
opinion, complete propaganda promoting Chavez. Like his very own FOX news, the section dedicated to Ecuador answered the critics.

Correa has been criticized for being an appendage of
Chavez rule. So they provided an article determined to provide information which showed how Correa was assuming a distinct position in the alliance. It was a perfect answer to those who challenged that he was a subordinate of Chavez, in
what is called his 21st century socialism, or his
attempt to link South America together, much like the
new EU Union. There were about five pages dedicated to Chavez's influence outside of his country, that painted a very optimistic picture of this grand scheme.

What really struck me as propaganda was the section on Argentina. We were there almost four months and I heard very little support for Chavez
except a few younger kids who havelittlee influence.
What I saw was a beautiful City and country,
recovering from a terrible economic crash with the
help of foreign investment, and a functioning
democracy. With construction on every block and tourism booming, I have a hard time believing that Argentina would hand over its beautiful culture to the
likes of Chavez, especially since they go out of their
way to be European. I cannot believe that they want
anything more to do with the 21st century socialism
than to remain on good terms with a powerful country
with lots of oil. Therefore, this article was very interesting in that it was building up the hopes of the locals that all of S. America was hopping on the
train. But the article also included a quote that said that this is another cold war, and
in true cold war fashion, that "Chavez is winning."

So anyway, the only interesting thing in this city, is
watching what could be years of tension between this
region and home unfold. Maybe in a few years we won't be
able to travel here, and I will be glad I saw it now.

So this completes my last long rambling blog. If you are still reading this you need to find better things to do with your time. This also brings to an end our adventures in South America. I remember when we were counting down the last days before we left, and now here we are with one day left until our return. We have forgotten the frustration of reading the news back home, which was also part of what encouraged us to make this trip, our own little protest I guess you could say. But just as important and maybe more so, are all the people we met along the way, the beautiful sights we have seen, the lessons we learned, in Spanish and in life, and the things that I learned about myself as well. One is that I am very excited to start law school when we return. After witnessing various societies that are less than models of the rule of law, I am eager to be a part of what I think is a very important part of our society that has created a comfortable place to live. A more structured society where people do not drive through residential areas blasting car horns at 6:00 in the morning.

Next stop L.A. Save B.A. for another day.

Por la ultima vez, Chau,

A

More photos

2007-05-26T13:19:00.000-07:00

Continuing on from El Calafate and the ST. Patty's day debauchery....

BARILOCHE
-Argentina-
3/18/07-3/22/03

After having our fill of ice, we boarded another plane with Irish hangovers and made our way up to the picturesque lake district of Bariloche. The day after we arrived, we met up with our Swiss friend Silvio with whom we had spent 10 weeks in a language school in Buenos Aires. Silvio was now traveling with two Israeli girls, Anat and Michal, whom he met while hitchhiking in Chile. Oddly enough Anat had the same exact camera as I did and hers was broken in the exact same way as mine! Luckily, Silvio and Michal shared their pictures with us. Together, we rented a car for two days and drove the Seven Lakes Tour...it was a blast! We already posted a blog about the adventure and now, here are the pictures to accompany the words:

Sampling the brews

The first day with the car: Day hike to see two more glaciers

Here we drank water that flows straight from the glacier
(I can't believe how small that giant glacier looks in this picture)

Examining this giant volcanic rock

The black glacier (blackened from volcanic ash)

Day two with the car, the Seven Lakes Tour:
The lakes themselves, while beautiful, weren't necessarily the highlight of the journey; but the ride....unforgettable

”We are five”

Put on Roxette and make disco with flashlights

to be continued........

Finally some pictures....

2007-05-21T15:06:00.000-07:00

We have been in Quito, Ecuador for almost four weeks now and have discovered that there is not much to do here besides practice our Spanish (which we absolutely need to do)! We each have been taking private lessons every day and attempting to speak to each other only in Spanish, which is becoming easier each day. Of course, we have found a few interesting things to do such as, of course, visiting the equator.

THE EQUATOR
-Ecuador-
5/5/07
Last Saturday, we took a 30-minute ride on the public bus to visit the Equator. Although we knew ahead of time that the monument and the painted line, which supposedly represents the equator, are not on the actual equatorial line, we paid the $2 entrance fee and took the touristy pictures anyway.

We didn’t visit the museum in which you can conduct experiments that “can only be done at the equator” because these tricks have nothing to do with the hemispheres or the equator itself. Instead we visited a small non-profit organization dedicated to educating the public about the real equator as well as the monument that was built in pre-Incan times on the exact equatorial line. The guide let us borrow his GPS device and we walked 200 meters or so until we reached the equator. At the exact point that the meter indicated we were at latitude zero, we were in the middle of a highway across from an abandoned shop.

((((O))))((((O))))((((O))))((((O))))((((O))))((((O))))((((O))))((((O))))
And now, because it’s been so long, here are some pictures of our adventure from our last days in Buenos Aires through our arrival here in Quito.....

BUENOS AIRES
-Argentina-
11/15/06-3/5/07

Last days with Hugo, the doorman at our apartment

Plaza San Martin

Chorribayres, our favorite parrilla

PUNTA DEL ESTE
-Uruguay-
3/5/07-3/7/07

We said goodbye to the friends we made, to the coolest city we have ever been to, and to our apartment and hopped on the ferry to Uruguay. This was actually our second trip to this country since we had visited Colonia, Uruguay on a day trip in order to renew our 90 visa in Argentina. This time, we headed to “The Hamptons of South America.” We had a good time hopping between the beach on the Rio del Plata side and the shores on the Atlantic side, but we are tough critics given that we live at the beach in Southern California! (for the record, Punta is no match for San Diego).

USHUAIA
-Argentina-
5/10/07-5/15/07
From Punta del Este, we stopped off in Colonia for a night and then spent one more night in Buenos Aires in order to catch a flight to the southernmost city in the world!

Celebrating our 7-year anniversary on the tip of the continent!

Tierra del Fuego National Park

Peat moss bogs

Hiking to the mountain glacier

Beauty of beaver destruction

Harberton Ranch, on the way to the penguin colony

France, Germany, Ireland, the US, and Argentine tequila

EL CALAFATE
-Argentina-
3/15/07-3/18/07

After departing from the best hostel on the planet (La Posta, Ushuaia), we hopped on a plane headed for El Calafate to visit one of the many glaciers in the area, el Perito Moreno. This glacier is constantly in motion which was evident by the cracking and groaning of the ice every minute or so. In fact, every few minutes, a piece breaks off sending a thunder crack through the air as if the entire glacier had crumbled. It was difficult to leave because every time we turned to walk away, another crack would echo through the air and we would whip the cameras around in the hopes of catching the “calving” process. What appears to be a relatively small chunk of ice from our vantage point, must actually be huge judging by the sound it makes. It’s deafening, exciting, and a little frightening all at once. This apparently is the natural movement of this glacier and not a product of global warming. Supposedly the glacier is not melting, just moving right along as glaciers do. Either way, what an incredible sight! We actually caught video of a massive slate sliding into the lake. I will have to post that in a later blog.

Rockin out at the hostal

St. Patricks day we met up with a couple of kids from Ireland we had met in Ushuaia(in the pic with the tequila). As the day went by we added a few more Irish to our group and before long we were watching them rock out on stage to U2 (which was playing in every bar, pub, and restaurant...all.......day........long. The night was a blast but ended with a broken camera.

I'm having some very frustrating technical difficulties with Blogspot right now. I will have to post more pictures later....
--S--

Que Paso en Peru

2007-05-16T13:42:00.000-07:00

Hace mucho tiempo que escribi.

Since it has been a while since I have written, I feel as though I should record something here. We have passed through an entire country, numerous cities, two deserts, tropical forests, and more mountains before settling down here in Quito for a month of Spanish classes and returning to the States. I never have the ambition to write when I have a chance, and so here I am with a lot of ground to cover. In the last blog I mentioned the bike ride down the "world´s most dangerous road," which lived up to the hype. In fact, I think it was the best day we had in South America.

A half hour bus ride carried us atop a mountain just outside of La Paz. After a sip of pure alcohol, and a splash on the tires of our bikes as an offering to Pacha Mama, the Incan earth god, as is a local custom for those who pass through the worlds most dangerous road, we were prepared to descend the mountain. Wearing many layers of clothing at the top, which we would eventualy remove the majority of before reaching bottom, we started out on a new paved road. A steep incline provided a ride that reminded me of snowboarding. Gliding down the smooth surface, one could control the speed of the bike simply by sitting upright to make more wind resistance, or put your head down and really fly down the mountainside. I chose the latter, and had a blast passing cars on my way down.

We eventually came to a point where we transferred to the old gravel road, the one that is known as "The Worlds Most Dangerous." (thats fun to type) Its a thin and winding road that had been carved into the mountainside to provide passage for those who dared to use it. (To make a point of how secluded it was, there was a house on the way, that served as refuge for one of Hitler´s right hand men, who had fled after the war. As the story goes, they found him sipping a coffee on this peligroso calle, and hauled his ass back for the Nuremberg Trials. Anyway, it was an interesting story.) So we found ourselves quickly descending the mountain, by now we had shed clothing as the drop in altitude also raised the temperatures quickly, and likewise, the environment. Waterfalls fell on the trail, creating rainbows for us to whip through, on what was a crystal clear day. They were plenty of stories on the way about people whose lives ended at the bottom of the cliff to our left side. A couple of times, I was pushing my luck and felt my tires skid across the gravel road, inertia pulling me toward the same fate, but of course I had Pacha Mama with me, and I am here to tell the tale. Those who were not as lucky usually had someone pushing them. Trucks still use the road and so oncoming traffic on a narrow mountain road has had fatal consequences. Just a couple weeks before us, a French girl was clipped by a truck and plunged. Another story of two Israelis who were messing around, ended when one pushed the other off the cliff. However the most interesting is marked by a monument. When Bolivia was entering Democracy and the people in power realized they were going to lose the upcoming election. They abducted the top five guys of the opposing party, blind folded them, and brought them to the worlds most dangerous road. A 1500 meter (or 4500 feet) fall will put a stop to a political movement eh. It also makes for a adrenaline filled ride, as sometimes my body would be hanging over the edge as I leaned into a corner. The trip ended at a animal refuge, where I was eaten alive by sand flies that itch far worse than mosquitos, and Sarah was attacked and bitten multiple times by a ferocious little monkey. Que divertido no?

After a night stop in the tourist trap little town of Copacabana, where one can take a boat ride to the nearby island that the Incas believed is the birthplace of the world, we were moving again, destination Cusco. Another bus incident ocurred when a lady attempted to hide some sort of contraband under my seat when a policeman boarded the bus at border checkpoint. At least I got to put some of those Spanish lessons to use, using a loud voice and the "imperative commands," my new friend kindly took the contents of her bag to another part of the bus. Although it was a brutal ride, we eventually made it to Cusco.

Cusco was the capital of the Inca Empire before the Spanish invasion. The city was literally built on top of the Inca ruins, using the same stones that had been laid hundreds of years ago as the foundation of the new buildings. The city is still intact, even in an area that experiences earthquakes, proving their advanced knowledge of seismic activities and architecture. The city consisted of very narrow streets, which was quite peculiar, interesting, and also a pain to walk on when traffic passed. However, it had a beautiful style all its own as the influence of the Incas remains strong, making it a very unique destination. The locals were all over the gringos, selling what ever they could make that someone might possibly buy. Their faces would light up when we walked around a corner into their presence, in the same way I always imagined mine would if a deer suddenly popped out at me while I sat waiting in the woods with a rifle in my hands. But it was kind of fun to practice our Spanish with them, and mess with the kids that hunted us, wanting to shine my hiking boots. The city was fascinating, and for this reason, filled with gringos, but not just backpackers, also older weathly people from all over the world, that flock to Cusco to view the lost city of the Incas.

When Pizzaro defeated the Inca King Atahualpa in Cajamarca in 1532, word spread through the empire quickly. He was allowed to enter into Cusco, ending the short reign of the Incan Empire. The Incas told the Spanish about all their cities and where to find gold and silver, but no one told the Spaniards about the recently constructed religious sanctuary, Machu Picchu. It was a place where the Incas would spend a short period of their lives, studying astronomy, religion, architecture, and surely much more. The city was so sacred that they abandoned it, some of the Incans taking their own lives rather than leave, in order to ensure that the Spaniards did not find the city. It was not until 1911, when a North American made an expedition to the area and paid a local farmer $1 dollar to take him to the lost city of the Incas, that it was discovered by non indigenous peoples. Naturally, now there are trains, buses, and hikes daily, that bring thousands of tourists a day to this intriguing ancient city built high on top of a mountain. These trips garner high prices from tourists, of which the indigenous locals, whose ancestors built the religious and education institution, see nothing. We returned to Cusco, and after having our clothes washed at the hostel it was time to keep moving, onto what became the new capital of Peru after the Spanish invasion, Lima.

Lima was the first time that the American influence could strongly be felt. Of course we were staying in the upscale neighborhood of Miraflores, complete with a modern mall with beach front property, which provided a panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean for the shoppers who seemed to speak more English than Spanish. Maybe they were staying at the posh Mariott across the street. Our four days in Lima consisted mostly of hanging out by the ocean, at one of the endless parks that line the coast. Their beaches are different as the city is elevated ontop of a cliff, leaving little room for beach activities like in San Diego. Por eso, they have endless parks atop the cliffs which provide great sunset viewing. The guys at our hostel were very cool and we spent a lot of time there, again, it was a great opportunity to practice Spanish. As we watched baseball, I attempted to explain the rules in Español, and how the Yankees vs Red Sox is the country´s greatest "clasico." Of course, it does not compare to the passion of futbol, I was told. I would probably have to agree.

And so we boarded another bus, one that would rival the Bolivian Bus Ride on a fun scale. Leaving five hours late, and lasting over forty hours in duration, we finally arrived here in Quito, our last stop. Absolutely exhausted, we set out to find an apartment. Although it is not cheap by Ecuadorian standards, as everyone loves to point out, we have a view of the city, a pool, and a sauna...... which I think I will had back and put to use.

More to come soon,

Chau,

A

Bolivian Bus Ride

2007-04-10T07:03:00.000-07:00

First impressions should never be made on a public bus.

We boarded our dingy bus, without a bathroom, for our "18 hr" trip to La Paz. (in all the trip was 30 hours counting the Argentine side) The bus somehow managed to stay together, although I would have placed a bet that we would not make it without stopping for repairs, which seems to be common. The bus resembled that of a school bus with room for luggage underneath, a luxury here, and was packed full of passengers, plus some, a standing room only kind of deal. We were only about an hour into the trip when we pulled to the side of the road to let the intoxicated Bolivian in the back of the bus off to piss on the side of the road. He stumbled his way back on board, falling on a few passengers along the way, and we made our way back onto a dry dirt road, which threw enough dust into the cab of the bus to chew on.

There were only two babies on board, but of course they were both seated next to us sharing a seat with momi; and when they weren´t crying, the old guy in front of them was blabbering on in his loudest voice, or shouting commands at someone. He was especially happy to pick fun at the gringos and the bus driver, who was cruising along at a steady rate of 15 mph as the gears of the bus grinded ominously. The road itself was cut through the mountains, sometimes only wide enough for us to skim through the middle of narrow rocky pathways, and other times along a windy road, which instead of a shoulder, was only darkness, marking an obvious cliff. I kept thinking about the article I had just read, in which a bus had PLUNGED off a cliff killing the majority of the passengers the day before.

Nevertheless, we rattled and bounced our way into the Bolivian night, stopping again for what was this time a planned bathroom stop. Guys and girls alike, found a cozy peace of earth to claim as their own. However, it wasn´t 20 minutes later when the drunkard in the back, this time with a companion, came lumbering back to the front of the bus, somehow finding a way to make contact with every passenger in the process. However, the driver, and the old commander sitting in the front row, were not having another stop and so we continued on. Soon after there was some kind of commotion coming from behind us, and when the lights were illuminated, we discovered that one of the two drunk fellows had relieved himself in the aisle of the bus. The stream could be seen pushing its way up the aisle towards our seat, naturally I put my shoes back on and my bag overhead. Already fed up with the two that decided to continue drinking on a bus they knew had no bathroom, I was more than ready to throw these two to the side of the street, but none of the Bolivians seemed to be bothered by it, we pulled over again for these two.

To make things worse, one of the standing room only crowd, had decided that it was time to catch some zzz´s and laid down in the middle of the piss filled aisle, of course right next to me, and what the hell, I was not sleeping on this bus anyway, so I might as well have a stranger lying in piss invade my personal space.

10 hours later, and a broken ass, we pick up more passengers in the high plains. These migrant workers needed a hitch up the road, and why not add a few more standing passengers. Smelling like a lama, naturally, the farmer decided to put his butt on the headrest of my chair, to rub against my head as we climbed higher into the mountains. I tried giving him enough "unintentionall" jabs as to say, "hey, go put your ass in the face of someone who doesn´t mind people pissing on the floor and smelling like lamas," but to no avail. A couple hours later the workers had arrived at their workplace for the day, and exited, and that is when the music started.

It is hard to explain the beat, yet it is cemented in my mind forever, and is now the new theme of my nightmares. Bolivian folk music, rocked through the speakers at full blast. Nevermind that I was still trying to catch just a minute of sleep on this hellish bus ride. The Indian girl in front of us, dressed in the stereotypical gear, (wide skirt, wool sweater, and long braids, although missing the cute little top hat) as is quite typical, was singing along and having a great time. Only three songs on the cd, all containing the same beat, sounding like salt shakers with clopping horse hooves, were allowed to play for at least three hours, repeating, repeating, repeating. Sarah does a nice little impression. The music was turned up so loudly that I could not listen to my own head phones, because the music permeated with its repetitive salt shaker beat.

Finally we started to see the pueblos made of stone at a more constant rate, followed by actually buildings. Granted they were all missing glass in the windows, but hey it was something. But I saw no city. Then it appeared. Below in a canyon, we could see the entire city from the high plains as we wound are way down to the city.

La Paz is an amazing city. I could not spend too much time here, but it may be my favorite stop since Bs As. The highest city in the world, we are very short on breath and careful not to push ourselves too hard. I found baseball on tv. some sort of S. American league, but there are far too many Yankees caps for my taste. We encountered a pick up game of soccer in the main concrete square, toured the coca museum, and learned quite a bit about this crucial plant that has been in their culture since at least 2500 years BC. And has now been "ruined by the white man" (close paraphrase)

We bought a few souvenirs, and ate a typical Bolivian dish. Now we are preparing to ride mountain bikes down the "worlds most dangerous road." However, it can´t be too much more dangerous than a Bolivian Bus Ride.

A

Chau Argentina

2007-04-07T12:32:00.000-07:00

We are in Bolivia. There is no mistaking us now. After 4 months in the South of Argentina, where many of the people look like they could be American, we are most definitely the gringos now, and being treated as such. I guess that is what happens when I lug more posessions on my back, than most people here own period.

We are waiting for our bus to La Paz, the capitol city in the north, skipping many of the tourist destinations along the way, because our time is ticking, and ......well the accomodations here make Tijuana look desirable. So, after leaving Salta at 7 am to arrive here at the border, we will now board a bus at 6 pm, for a 18 hour trip to La Paz. Not exactly a luxury cruiser we will be without a bathroom, so I am hoping that the chicken we just ate passes through normally.

We also skipped one of the major tourist destinations in Argentina, Iguazu Falls in the northern Jungle of Argentina. This omission is due mainly to my underestimation of how big Argentina is. And with the amount of luggage we are carrying around, the traveling is not exactly as easy as we had planned, although I am not sure that we put much thought into the actually traveling part. Therefore we skipped the 60 hours round trip it would have taken to see the Iguazu falls in the North Eastern corner of Argentina, and continue "straight away" for La Paz after crossing the border.

I already miss Buenos Aires and the luxuries of the city there, especially after feeling the giant cockroach squish under my foot in our last room, at a hostel in Salta. This hostel, designed by Argentinas finest engineers, leaked water, allowing mold to cover the walls turning our "habitacion" into a musty den. Because it is "Semana Santa" (they arduously celebrate the whole week of Easter)the whole country is traveling and we had to stay with what accomodations we could find, and we paid twenty dollars a night for this. So much for the north being really cheap... dirty yes, cheap, not so much. However, the city was unique, as each city has been since we started traveling north about a month ago, from the end of the world. With each city, I began to feel more and more like I was in Mexico, and finally, in Salta, we were able to eat some tamales and find some real spicy salsa.

All in all Argentina was beautiful, the people are so nice, Bs As was too big to cover in the 3 plus months we were there, and the rest of the country cannot be covered in a months time of traveling. But we passed through myriad climate changes, and spent time on a ranch, which we nearly could not reach.

Becuase the small mountain road had been inundated by the flooding river,our taxi, which was a small honda model from the mid 80´s, twisted and bumped his way professionally through a muddy road that he had no business being on in his little coche. After almost getting stuck in mud twice, the trip came to an abrupt end as the road was impassable. The usual stream, which flows over the road is usually easily passable with the concrete slab, which facilitates the crossing. However, this is no bridge, and the stream had swelled to a raging river. So after 40 minutes in this little taxi we turned around to head back to the city, sure enough the taxi tried to charge us for the ride. This was of course after a 15 hr. bus ride which included a blown tire.

However, a man from town assured us we could make it through the river in his truck. Although I thought differently, we were determined to get the estancia, my thoughts were that there was no way we were going to pass, and it was one heck of an adrenaline rush when we plowed through a raging river in a pick up. But the estancia was beautiful, we had the place to ourselves, practiced our Spanish for three days with our gaucho guide Diego, rode horses, milked goats, cut up dead cows, drank mate, and caught some rays by the river.

And so now with more countries to see, we are ready to move on. So Chau Argentina, as well as the language of "Castellano," thanks for the good times.

On the tourist trail through Argentina

2007-03-25T10:52:00.000-07:00

High in the Andes mountains, we bounced down a gravel road in our rented Chevy Corsa (thats corsa not corsica); Sarah sitting in the back seat with two Israelis, and myself in the passenger seat next to our Swiss friend Silvio, who told stories in a thick German accent about "making disco with flashlight" while listening to Roxette as a kid. The two day rental car provided the five of us with a great time touring the seven lakes of Bariloche, hiking to see various glaciers and drinking the water from the flowing streams at their base; all the while chanting along to the Beatles "We all live in a yellow Submarine." After four days in Bariloche, and still not enough chocolate, we packed up our bags and once again moved on to our next destination here in the wine country of Mendoza. This has been the story for the last couple weeks as we have met many new people and seen amazing sights in Southern Argentina.

The trip south began with our flight to Ushuaia, which in true Argentine fashion, was naturally delayed. However the flight was quite smooth, and despite flying in a third world country, we made it safely, without incident, to our destination at the end of the world. After spending one night in B.A. in a hostel in which I refused to take a shower, we spent five nights in the best hostel we have stayed in to this point, La Posta in Ushuia.

Naturally everyone is on the same route in Ushuaia since there is only one way in and out of the southern most city in the world. Hence, we all travel to or from the same destinations sharing our stories and giving bits advice for our fellow travelers, always assured to have the same conversation at each stop: "where have you been," "where are you going," and "where are you from." The unfortunate part is that everything is in English, no matter where the others are from, and they all know who is going to be our next President.

During our five days in Ushuaia, which I imagine to look a lot like Alaska, we hiked through a national park along the shore of the bay, through the Patagonian forest. We hiked to our first glacier which rests at the top of the mountain overlooking the city. The view was awesome as we looked back through the tunnel shaped valley that had been sliced out by the massive sheet of ice over a period of thousands of years, to see the glassy blue bay below. Contrary to what the guidebook says, the climb went from a steep hike to a literal rock climb to arrive at the permanent sheet of ice, which was nothing more than ice under the snow. Not so impressive, but I stood atop my first glacier, then I just had to figure out how to get back down. We also walked next to Penguins, and had the rare opportunity to smell the repugnant odor of these cute little Pinguinos. (note from Sarah: being 4 feet away from a Penguin in the wild and watching them play around in the water and waddle around near their nests was incredible!!)

We also met some folks in Ushuaia from Ireland, with whom we were reunited in El Calafate to celebrate Patty´s Day, which was a blurry mess of U2 songs and random cervezas which culminated in a broken (expensive) digital camara. However, there were more than just beers, the Periti Moreno glacier in El Calafate was amazing. After viewing the rather unimpressive glacier in Ushuaia, this was the complete opposite, and we were lucky enough to view an enourmous chunk of ice crash to the river below, a brilliant sight, accompanied by thunderous banging as the chunks made contact with the river below. It appeared as if the glacier has its own weather system. In what was otherwise a desert climate, the area around the glacier suddenly turns into a forrest. The ice shoots 60 meters into the sky, creating what looks like a blanket of gigantic blue shaded ice nails pointing to the sky. Rain moved in quickly, turning what had been an otherwise hot sunny day into what became a wet chilly excursion to a glacier.

And now I sit here waiting for the next bus ride to our estancia in Cordoba. Rain has been falling all day and everyone in the hostel is crowding around the televisioin to watch "Erin Brokovitch." A nice city, and after a few days, I even came to appreciate the rather odd storm drains that line the city streets, which would make for thousands of litigations for hungry lawyers in the States.

These drains are especially dangerous in a city that provides all of Argentina with its wine. Still traveling with our Swiss friend Silvio, we rented bikes to tour various vineyards, and spent a couple days sitting here at the hostel with mucho vino. I cannot handle anymore, and am looking forward to a few tranquilo days on an Argentine ranch.

more pictures to come, when we get a chance..... and a camara.

A

Chau Buenos Aires!

2007-03-04T14:12:00.000-08:00

We have now been living in Buenos Aires for three months!! Crazy!! I have had the most amazing time here. This city is awesome, the people are awesome, and I almost wish I wasn’t leaving. But of course, I can't get too comfortable in any one place because that would defeat the whole purpose of traveling outside the "comfort bubble." So, Monday morning, we are moving out of our apartment (keep your fingers crossed that we get most of our deposit back) and we head to the beach in Uruguay. Then it's back to B.A. just to catch a plane to Ushuaia (the southern-most city in the world...it's practically Antarctica) on the day that marks 7 years together!

After that, there's no plan set in stone except a 3-night stay in an estancia (working ranch) at the end of March in the northern region of Argentina. So we have just under a month to make our way back up the country from Ushuaia/Tierra del Fuego.

We are skipping Brazil for several reasons (Visa hassles and cost, and the fact that we have learned Spanish not Portuguese) and we might skip Chile due to the entry fee. But Peru is a must! And I hear Bolivia is not to be missed. But we'll see.... wherever the day takes us...

So....goodbye Buenos Aires, 'sta luego, me encanta mucho, you will be missed; the beautiful porteños with hearts of gold--or plata (silver) I should say given the name of the river; the vibe of the city that is way more European than Latin-American; the Castillano language that sounds more like Italian than Spanish; the empanadas, the ferias, the tango, Homero (and the rest of Los Simpson), Quilmes, parillas, the Subte, the guia T, the cobblestone streets; the chatty taxistas, wiling away the hours in cafes and parks, public displays of affection, endless city streets, endless city nights, loungy lazy sundays, sinful helado, the awesome friends we made, and all of the things I have come to adore about this city, but now it's time to be a travelin' on. Let the adventure begin...again!

--S--
(as in in the S of S&A, not as in Steinberro...he signs with an A =)

ps...I'll upload more pictures next time we have access to the internet from my computer and I have time to do it.

Necropolis

2007-03-04T05:46:00.000-08:00

Snapshots from the city of the dead, Recoleta Cemetery

Duarte Family tomb including Eva 'Evita' Peron.
Please stop singing 'Don't cry for me Argentina' now.

deportes (sports)

2007-02-17T06:32:00.000-08:00

This trip to South America would not be complete without a trip to a futbol game, or soccer for the North Americans. Therefore, I was extremely excited when my local cafe owner invited me to a game last weekend. I had no idea how close we live to the stadium, about a 15-20 minute walk.

There are two teams in Buenos Aires, we live in River Platte territory, which is not as famous as the cross town rivals Boca Juniors, where one is sure to attend a game with the legendary Maradona, who is the closest thing to a walking god since Muhammad "the last prophet." For baseball fans, a fitting analogy would have the Boca Juniors as the Yankees and River Platte as the Boston Red Sox; without the curse of the Babe that is, hence they actually have won a few championships over the years.

So I met my Porteño friend, who speaks no English, and left for the game. We entered the stadium that holds 80,000 people, and sat in the visitor section. Two kids sat in front of us and smoked their marijuana cigarrete to pass the time. "You wouldn't do that in the States" I told Juan, "the police (who were in an abundance in the walk ways of the stadium) would put a stop to this" His reply was that the police do not enter the seating section because they would be attacked. At this point I noticed the barbed wire fencing that encircled our section and made charging the field an act of futility.

Flags were being hung up in front of us, some of them blocking the view of the game. I asked why, and I got a very serious response that it is "importante." My favorite flags are enormous, streaming from the top of the stadium to the bottom of the stands, almost like a roll of toilette paper.

Clapping out the beat and belting out the words, the fans, or in Español, fanaticos, cheer on their team with songs. I was told, each team has "mucho," which became obvious as a turnover of the ball was sure to instigate a new song. When the visitor section around me quieted, I could hear the roar from the other side of the stadium.

Much like hockey, it is far better to watch live. And in true "soccer" fashion, the game was tied 0-0 until the very final minute of the game, at which point a player from the home team scored from short range after receiving a pass off his chest. Nice goal. I heard "hijo de puta" screaming all around me, and saw one young kid, with a terrible mullet, on the verge of tears. The home fans jumped and sang as the stadium literally shook.

But the game itself is not why this particular event has been in the news all week. It is no secret that the games can be dangerous, and this was no exception. There was a fight, and a kid was shot, there has been an investigation ongoing, but it is really just show, I am sure. The "barrasbravas" are a group of organized crime members that rule the stadiums and the teams in Argentina. The investigation this week revealed hidden knives in the stadium, but in general, the people do not talk. After hearing about the shooting, I understand why Juan brought me to the visitors section.

Before parents start freaking out, remember that one cannot even walk through a Salt Lake City mall without being on the wrong side of target practice.

A

What happened to January?

2007-02-08T10:58:00.000-08:00

Ok, so it has been a while since I have posted anything on this site. Not that the last month has been aburrido or boring, but we were locked into our daily schedule of commuting to school each day along the same route, and engaged in the same scene of international students, all of whom spoke great English.... oh how much English has been spoken! If I would have spent the time learning Spanish that I spent teaching English slang to others, my Español would be mucho further advanced. To be fair I can now say an assortment of slang phrases in other languages, especially various ways to say "cheers."

A grand development in our lives was realized on the subway. Our daily commute was made extremely mas comfortable by our decision to walk to away from our destination, to the last station on the subway line. This allowed us to grab a place to sit on the train each day, which at seven o'clock on a humid hot Buenos Aires summer morning, is a luxury I was not willing to give up for the little old ladies that boarded after us, lo siento mucho señora.

Finding a place to sit on the subte was facilitated by the fact that a very significant portion of the Porteños leave the city through out the month of January. (another opportunity to point out their bizzare business tactics, they literally close down businesses for over a month to travel away from the city.) The main destination of travel is the city of Mar Del Plata, which is located about four hours south of the city. Daily and Nightly broadcasts can be seen on television of the summer long fiesta that can be experienced at Mar Del Plata. Although we did not go, I feel as though I have seen enough coverage to understand what it is all about. (See "el tema del verano" to see for yourself)

for an explanation, check out
http://laxlim.blogspot.com/2007/01/el-tema-del-verano-commercial-creates.html

Just a quick translation of the song: This is the hit of the summer that you will sing and dance to everywhere, and yes, of course I will stick that umbrella in for you.

Just as all good things must come to end, so do the not so good. Last week we completed our pre paid ten weeks at the disorganized school known as Ibero. If you are some random reader who happened upon this site via google, beware! If you want to party, go, but if you are looking to learn Spanish, yo no lo recomiendo. However, lets focus on the partying aspect.

We met a plethora of great people from all over the western, non Spanish speaking world, except France, although we did have a profesora de Francia. I learned the importance of not sipping your drink before cheersing with Europeans (who are just looking for a reason not to like Americans) ... and always look them in the eye when doing so, along with lots of other great cultural differences. Much time was dedicated to explaining how Americans ended up in our current political situation. "How?" "How??" the question is repeated time and time again. This is a never ending conversation ................. .................................................................................................................... .................................................................................................................... ...........................................................................how?????????

The Spanish is improving though. We took a big step the other day when we took a short trip fuera de the city, and spoke only Spanish for Six hours. We met friends from our "advanced" class at Ibero, it is worth noting that three are from Brazil. This is significant because nothing confuses me more than the Spanish language spoken by Brazilians with a heavy Portuguese accent. (except our Norweigen friend Traje aka "Superman" aka "Mr T") We took the train North, roughly out of town, at least to the suburbs, to Tigre, a neighborhood on the river. Famous for its market fair, which was not open on the day we traveled there, Tigre was easily seen with a quick trip up the river in our very tranquilo booze cruise. Somewhat reminded of the lakes in MN. little houses lined the chocolate brown river with small boat houses on the shore. We were lucky enough to have been eating a meal of assorted steaks and sausages from the "parilla," when the hail storm rolled through, exiting as quickly as it had arrived. We followed it back to the train station and left feeling as though I had taken a days trip into Tijuana. Of course this bizzaro TJ was more comfortable than El Cajon, so not really.

So here I sit typing this while feeling my time in this city slip toward its expiration date. We have less than a month in Bs As, and although we have myriad adventures in South America waiting for us, I do not want to leave the city. Chances are we will be back.........
~A
<<<<>>>><<<<>>>><<<<>>>><<<>
And now a little something from Sarah....
The last month went by so quickly, I didn't want to miss a minute of it typing out a lengthy blog. So here's my recap in short....

New Year's was a blast as we finally experienced the true porteño lifestyle of staying at the clubs until after the sun rises (though we were among the first to leave). It's worth mentioning that they don't just do this on New Year's eve, they seem to party like that every weekend. Needless to say, we spent the first day of 2007 en casa. But it was just as well since everything was closed and the temperature was a steamy 105 with the fuerte summer sun bearing down through the hole in the ozone layer.

After that, I spent the next three weeks hacking and sniffling with bronchitis, drinking gallons of green tea, and studying el subjuntivo. January is pretty low-key as many businesses shut down for the entire month and about half the city goes on an extended vacation. During this hiatus, we missed the grillmasters at our favorite parilla but we certainly enjoyed the slightly-less packed subte. We spent each weekend saying chau to some friend or another, and each monday making new friends (as people are constantly coming and going at íbero). Just when I got over the chest cold, I got a touch of senioritis my last week of classes. So although my certificate boasts 200 hours of instruction, I am far from being as "avanzado" as the giant bold letters claim. ¡Pero mi español es mucho mucho mejor que cuando yo llegué en Buenos Aires! Mis primeras dias, no pude decir ni entender casi nada y ahora es un poco más facil.

Though technically en febrero, a review of January wouldn't be complete without mentioning the superbowl. I imagined the event (in which the players compete by trying to burn the most millions telling us what to wear, drive, eat, drink, do with our lives with brief intervals of a strange game of tackle) wouldn't go over too well here. Considering how many people could be fed with the money spent on the supercommercial (especially here given the favorable exchange rate), you would understand the shame I thought I would feel had I watched the game with a local. But of course, we were in a bar filled with Norteamericanos/estadounidenses (except the brazillians and swedes in our party). Not to mention, the commercials were not shown. As much as I bash them, I was pretty bummed that I wouldn't get to see this year's spectacle of advertisements. Alas, while you were all chuckling at each 30-second interval of flushed fortunes, we were entertained by videos we haven't seen in decades (C and C mucic factory...¿en serio?). I think it was the first superbowl game I actually paid attention to because I didn't have kitchy appetizers and commercials to distract me. Muy interesante. My favorite part was when the swedish girl who could care less about this game than I do won the square picks two quarters in a row!
¡Chau! (you will never hear 'adios' in Buenos Aires....only the uber-european spanish take on the italian 'ciao,' while giving the elegant cheek kiss to a perfect stranger)
--S--

mira las fotos:
New Year's

Yes, that's the sun rising over the water.

Leaving Pacha on New Year's morn.

The earliest to leave the club, catching a cab home

Some peeps...

This guy loathed Americans......until he met Aaron

Sarah, Alex, Jessie at Silvio's farewell party

Sarah & Julio, one of the teachers, on our last day of class!

Ignoring the Quilmes fumes, check out the painting on the wall

Up the river in Tigre

With 4 estadounidenses and 3 brasileños, we spoke esportuglish by the end of the day.
Hipi hopi.

Other pics
Tigre

Random Shots

¡gol!

Puerto madero

Obligatory Obelisco Photo

and it was all yellow...

Christmas Culture Shock

2007-01-02T12:22:00.000-08:00

Many people ask about how the Argnetines celebrate Christmas, and for people in the U.S. it is quite strange. Christmas Eve was terrible. I knew that the young Porteños (people in Bs As) party late after dinner with their families, but I was not prepared for what ocurred. After attending a late Tango Concert, we were out late the night before Christmas Eve, and with plans on Christmas Day, decided to skip the school activity at the club at 2AM to get a good night sleep.

On Christmas Eve, I struggled to stay awake through out a movie which ended at midnight; immediately following, the firecrackers began. First, one in the distance, then one that rattled our patio window; soon they were popping off in all directions. I have never been in a one, but I had to think of a war zone as M-80's echoed through the streets of Buenos Aires. They did not last for to long, and I thought finally I would get some sleep.

I woke to the sound of a deliberate thumping thundering through the apartment not long after dozing off. A glance out the window revealed a party in the courtyard directly outside of our window, complete with disco ball, techno music, and screaming Porteños. Surely this could not last all night right? As the top of each hour passed I became more and more amazed (and really pissed off) that nobody had a problem with the party below. It literally shook the building and also affected four other buildings which surround the court yard. However, at six o'clock the party was still going when I finally fell asleep.

There was one moment of comedy, when the party could be heard singing along to Bob Marley, obviously without knowing the words. Otherwise it was more like sleep deprivation, and it would have been really nice if there was a guide book that warned Norte Americanos about this strange phenomenon in Buenos Aires.

No nativity scenes here! The streets are filled with screaming, explosions, and really bad electronic music! All they were missing is one hour dedicated to chanting "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus..."

Ay Caramba!

A

Punk Rock in Buenos Aires?

2006-12-24T10:12:00.000-08:00

I have been told there is no such thing, after all.... Punk is dead right? Maybe it depends on what one considers punk. Certainly "punk" is in fashion, not only in the States, but here as well, the eighties Hot Topic look rules supreme among the youth; complete with converse and really bad mohawk/mullet/whatthehellisthat hair cuts. But since we arrived I have wanted to find the underground scene where I could slam luke warm beers in a dark sweat filled dungeon of a dive bar, and feel the local vibe. As the school activity for the night described the evening's event as a night at the "orchestra," I was not prepared for the dingy hole in the wall venue, nor to be left completely enamored with Tango music.

We turned down a narrow street. The grafitti that lined the brick buildings could vaguely be seen in the darkness of the poorly lit neighborhood. The taxista squinted his eyes as he strained to make out the address listed on each door. He put the car in reverse and began backing down the one way street as other cars passed by, ostensibly without thinking it odd that someone should do such a thing. However, in my mind it was strange, especially after just reading how taxis work as an accomplice in many robberies. He eyed a door with a man standing in front of it. As he swerved the car in reverse toward the curb, a garage door was manually pulled open and a man began to approach the taxi. I took off my seat belt so as not to be trapped in the taxi, as I had read, is a common method of robbery. However, the man reached in the car, shook my hand, and notified us that we were early and should return at 10 and that there was a bar/cafe right up the street.

My first experience of mingling with locals turned political in a matter of seconds. We went from me asking "por que no musica" to me being asked what I think of Venezuela and Chavez? Muy interesante no? However, I told him the honest answer, that I don't know (it is worth noting that there are only two countries in South America we are not going to, and Venezuela is one of them) and that my Español was not suficiente para este conversacion.

Back to the venue, where we entered through the opened garage door and headed down a corridor, very reminiscent of the Casbah in downtown San Diego, that led to the bar/main room. However, I could not enter because they did not have change for the 100 peso bill I carried. (I must once again make a note of how bad their business practice is here. The change was 80 pesos, I know they could have changed this, but as I so often have to do, went off hunting for a place that would change my 100.) We ended up at a mall, on a Saturday night, the night before Christmas Eve, in a city with over 10 million people, no fue divertido! I was not too thrilled with Buenos Aires' lack of accomodating service, so when I returned, the Quilmes Cerveza was consumed with ease.

Much like any other show I have been to, the band did not start on time, but by the time they did the place was packed. The locals finally became restless and began calling the band to the stage. A piano, two stand up bass, four violins, and four accordians took their place on the large stage, and when they performed it was immediately obvious why the crowd was so large. These musicians all in their mid twenties held unusual instruments for an American rock fan, but make no mistake, they were rock stars, head banging to the intense sounds that cut through the room and gripped an awestruck audience. Meanwhile, synchrenized lights flashed at critical moments and dance around the room for extra effect. The music itself is open to interpretation, but it was intensely dramatic. Of course the Tango is known for its romanticism, but it also had a sinister feeling as though impending danger lurked beyond the horizon. Or the type of music that would accompany the villian as he entered the room. The band played for over an hour as the temperature rose and the bottles stacked up, it was a very punk rock kind of attitude. I felt as though the music had political content or inspiration, or maybe I just had to much Whiskey.

Already borracho, (drunk) I decided it would be a good idea to head back to the cafe and engage in more political discourse, because the two always go so well together. This is easy to do, because regardless of where a person is from, they have an opinion of the U.S. It is almost violating. But I found a great hole in the wall venue and experienced a piece of Buenos Aires that I will never forget.

A

International Moment of Zen

2006-12-24T07:38:00.000-08:00

I don't feel like being chained to the computer right now in order to write an extensive blog, but I did want to wish everyone happy holidays. Though the Christmas spirit is evident here, it is nothing like home. No 24-7 in-your-face commercials, no constant carols and outrageous sales. Not to mention it's 85 degrees and humid which makes it easy to forget that it's December, much less Christmas time. Although I appreciate the less commercialized version and I like not having the holiday shoved down my throat, somehow, I still miss the hustle and bustle of the month-long celebration in 'the states.' And I can't believe this California girl actually misses the Minnesota snow!

Tango, my new favorite genre

I also wanted to mention how cool yesterday was. The night began with discovering the Global Edition of a certain television show I have been deeply missing. It was so nice to have an international moment of zen. Then we were off to what we were told was an orchestra but turned out to be the coolest Tango band ever (not that I have anything to compare it to). I never imagined I would be rockin' out to violins and accordions, but this band seriously rocked. It felt like we were at a punk show in San Diego only instead of rocking out on guitars, the guys were getting crazy with their accordions. Head banging, foot-stompin Tango? One guy even busted out with a little Billy Benchpress style.

(a clip I caught on my PowerShot, the lighting gets a bit better in the middle) @fernandezfierro.com (check out some of the videos.)

When we first got to the show, we were early (for once) so we went over to a cafe and ended up getting into a political conversation with one of the guys. As soon as he heard we were from los estados unidos, he sat right down next to us and said (in spanish) "So, tell me, are you for Boosh or not for Boosh?" He didn't speak any English and our Spanish is still too limited to be talking politics, but somehow we were able to carry on a discussion. Though it didn't go very far since I'm sure the guy felt like he was talking to children. I'm sure Aaron will spend more time on this in his blog so I will leave it at that.

We did return to the cafe after the "orchestra" and this time we brought The Aussies. And of course, despite our earnest attempt to be home at a 'decent' hour, we ended up catching a cab (in the rain) muy temprano en la mañana. But this time we did make it to be before the sun rose! If you haven't read Aaron previous blog describing the atmosphere here, in a nutshell, this city literally never sleeps. The streets are as alive at 5am as they are at 10pm. The bars don't ever close as far as I can tell and people don't go home until well after the sun has come up. Christmas eve (tonight) is apparently an evening they spend at home with the family, but at 2am, they go out and start partying. The crazy porteños get started when we, in the states, are stumbling home.

Well, so much for making this short! Merry Christmas, happy holidays, felices fiestas. Hang a stocking for me. =)
--S--

This week in review

2006-12-22T11:42:00.000-08:00

Despite my best effort to find the motivation to blog from some daily activity, it was inevitable that I would be inspired by food.

Sunday
On Sunday, Aaron and I met up with our Australian “Bizzaro world” couple (I assume everyone is familiar with the Seinfeld reference) Natalie and Jack. Though, technically, to be "Bizzaro" they would have to be our opposites, yet they are just like us (or we are just like them) to the point of it being quite bizzare. I suppose the "opposite" factor is the fact that they live in the southern hemisphere and have cool accents. They are lucky enough to be staying in a fully furnished 2-bedroom apartment and invited us over for tea and pastries. Not wanting to arrive empty-handed, we ducked into one of the seemingly innumerable pastry shops and picked out some chocolate goodies.

Caution, Street Dancers Crossing!

When we got to Jack and Natalie’s, we first admired the interesting sign on the side of the street, which led to a discussion about the infamous freeway sign in San Diego. Jack wholeheartedly believed we were joking because, of course, there can’t really be a road sign illustrating a Mexican couple dragging their child across the freeway, can there?

We continued inside where Natalie had a spread of pastries and finger sandwiches. Being the doll that she is, she specially prepared some with olives instead of meat, which were fabulous (though I have been eating carne here, of course).

A propah tea pahty

We sat sipping tea and getting a sugar high (the chocolates we bought were blobs of gooey dulce de leche on a cookie dipped in chocolate) and talking about various things from education to alcoholism when we realized we might be late for our movie.

(ok, so it's not exactly Bs. As. but we all love this one)

We headed out to see the new Bond movie (in English with Spanish subtitles) and by some freakish coincidence, during a preview for the new Brad Pitt movie, what should flash upon the screen but none other than the San Diego freeway sign we had just been describing! After the movie, we grabbed a bite to eat (surprise surprise!). There is no shortage of pizza in this town and aside from empanadas, it is the easiest ‘cuisine’ to access, so we ordered up a pie with mushrooms, garlic, and fresh basil. ¡Sabrosa!

Tuesday
¡Tenedor libre!
Once again, we joined our Bizzaro world couple for lunch. We went to an all-you-can eat buffet (tenedor libre) for 18 Argentine pesos (about 6 bucks). For that price, you would picture Sizzler, but it was closer to the Bellagio buffet in Vegas minus the shrimp and champagne. They had various stations where professional chefs whipped up whatever you chose. For instance, in the line for the parilla (grill) you could order whatever slab of meat you wanted and wait for them to cook it up for you. I chose to try the fish line and the pasta line. I had some awesome fish and mussels as well as a pumpkin/squash ravioli dish. We spent quite a while at this place and Aaron and I gorged ourselves on the desserts (which the Aussies noted was a perfect example of American excess). Needless to say, we skipped dinner.

Wednesday
Museo de Bellas Artes
(some of) The kids in the hall

Today we joined a group of students from our school (who come from all over the world) and went to the Buenos Aires Museum of Fine Arts. I think it was the most fun I have ever had in a museum. The Norwegian guy from my school pointed out every set of “boobies” in every painting and sculpture, and giddily exclaimed in his best English, “lesbians!” when viewing a painting of several naked women. Now, we are all “cultured” individuals who enjoy art and properly exploring museums, but for some reason, when we are all together, we act a little goofy. Must be the “school” environment that makes us feel as though we are on a high school field trip.
On a serious note, if you happen to be in Buenos Aires, check out the second floor which houses art from only Argentine artists. Not that the Monet’s and Picasso’s downstairs weren’t interesting! After the museum, we all crammed into a little cafe for some empanadas and cervezas. My classmate (and a partner in crime), Jessie and I agree that the beers are stronger here (even Heineken) and thus we always seem to get tipsy when we only have one or two. Over a few beers and salty snacks, we all chatted about everything under the sun. A student from Hawaii explained to me how to use the bidet in my bathroom that I still fear, and the lovely Argentine guide, Noel, who coordinates these activities, helped us practice our Spanish.

Thursday
Shake it like a....

My favorite day this week! Natalie and Jack made reservations for us at Casa Salt Shaker. This “closed-door” restaurant was just written about in the NY Times on Sunday [NYT Casa Salt Shaker Article toward the end of the article]. Chef Dan Perlman opens the doors of his home twice a week to invite patrons to enjoy a set menu that is based on a particular theme. Our theme was “A Night of Radishes” although none of the food consisted of radishes. Apparently it is a tradition in Oaxaca, Mexico and thus the dinner was a play on foods from that region. It was FABULOUS and I had so much fun. Not to mention that my mouth hasn’t experienced spicy food in over 5 weeks. Apparently porteños like their food fairly bland (yet it’s surprisingly tasty). Dan came out as each course was served and explained what the dish was and exactly what was in it. It was a great (and unbelievably affordable) night. I probably drank too much wine for a "school night" but enjoyed every drop of it and it was still worth it even when I had to get up early (which was a tad difficult after the wine and the espresso at 1am). A fabulous night...the food, the wine, the conversation....an unforgettable experience!

Aaron, Me, Natalie and the shortribs.

For those of you interested in the menu, the starter was a chilled soup of blended watercress and honeydew with a kick of chipotle peppers. Next up was a delicious ricotta and squash blossom empanada with a tangy tomato and peppery sauce on the side. The real fire came with the shrimp in pumpkin seed sauce. I forget what gave it the fiery heat but he added diced cucumber to balance it out. The main dish was beef shortribs in Chatino mole sauce (a nutty mole rather than chocolaty). And for dessert, Oaxacan chocolate lasagna, which consisted of lasagna noodles made with chocolate in the dough, and a mascarpone/dulce de leche filling and some stewed cherries and cinnamon to top it off. And yes, it was all as good as it sounds!

--S--

Pictures

2006-12-16T17:36:00.000-08:00

Sarah's first post!

Why do I suddenly miss Comedy Central?
11/19/06

Old tracks and twisty trees in our barrio, Belgrano.
11/19/06

Belgrano
11/19/06

A Belgrano street corner, 11 de Septiembre and La Pampa.
11/19/06

Christmas just isn't the same.
11/20/06

Some huge park in La Boca
11/24/06

La Boca
11/24/06

Walking home after a few Quilmes Bocks.
11/24/06

Somewhere on the way to school, Microcentre.
11/30/06

Belgrano
12/3/06

now THAT'S a juicer (Belgrano)
12/3/06

Las Chicas
12/7/06

Los Hombres
12/7/06

Catching a cab at 5am
12/8/06

Street Tango in San Telmo
12/10/06

San Telmo
12/10/06

Got a tad wet on the way to the Subte.
12/10/06

The Subte
12/10/06

An EMPTY subte???
12/10/06

Crazy for futbol in Belgrano.
12/13/06

Mmmmmmmeat market. Belgrano.
12/13/06

Verduras!
12/13/06

Sarah's happy.
12/13/06

The new and improved NOFX Churro Machine.
12/13/06

--S--

Watching the Sun Rise

2006-12-16T15:32:00.000-08:00

No, we do not wake early to see the sun rise, but for the second time in a week, we have seen the sky illuminating as we return from a night of debauchery. The interesting thing is that returning at this hour seems to be quite common. There is no closing hour for the bars in Buenos Aires, at least that I have seen yet. It was near 5:00 AM as we finally hailed a cab for our trip across the city to our apartment. I keep thinking of those Vegas shows on the travel channel where they tell you how the casinos pump oxygen into the casinos to keep everyone going; because I don't really get tired, and without a last call, it is suddenly muy tarde.

The streets are still filled with party goers at 5:00 AM. A diverse demographic, ranging from what could have been high school aged kids to men in their business suits, makes hailing a free cab an elusive obstacle. The dificulty in finding a cab reveals just how busy the city is at 5:00 in the morning. Buenos Aires is similar to N.Y. City in many ways, one is that every other car is a taxi, and they were all ocupado. Our cabby told us how many there are in the city, but I can't remember now, it was something "mil," which means thousand, and all were running last night.

Cheers to our amigos from the school for dragging us to a club; where we had a great time shaking our butts to a really bad house mix, despite our earlier protests. Also, sorry to those who witnessed it.

I also have to mention the terrible system of service at the first bar we went to, because it reveals the poor business practice down here. I literally spent 40 minutes standing in line to buy two rounds of beers, although it is probably why I am hangover free today, but time is money and I could have consumed more in that time while I stood in line. They ran a system in which you buy a ticket, then go get your beer; which might make sense at a music festival with thousands of people, but it was a small bar with few customers, none of which were happy about waiting for the bar to refill the register tape to get a ticket while the bartenders stood idly by. Quite a contrast from the States where each bar has a scantily clad females circling the bar feeding the patrons jello shots as fast as they can consume them.

However, constructed in 1900, the building was interesting; a marbel floor spiraled up three floors to relatively isolated rooms with high ceilings, (where I'm sure many Porteños make out with each other; they are not concerned about public displays of affection, in fact, it seems it is expected.) The main bar below is a narrow room with a painting of a diplomatic looking Asian man being stabbed in the chest. (I just had to add that because it just weird)

A

2006-12-11T12:25:00.000-08:00

I had just drifted to sleep for the night when I was struck by a cacophony of screams. Being the second night in our new apartment in Buenos Aires, my first thought was, "wow, we chose a bad neighbor hood to move in to." A man was screaming bloody murder as I my mind raced, searching for the cause of such commotion so late on a Sunday night. "no, no, no" yelled the emotion filled voice from somewhere within my building. His blood curddling screams were echoed by a femal voice just as angry sounding, if not more so, but I could not make out what she was saying. However, I was quite certain that someone was being murdered next door, or at least someone was about to be. After a few moments of panic as my mind conjured up all the worst possible explanations, I realized that it was Sunday, the day of futbol in Buenos Aires. The man was not screaming "no," but "goal." We have also been told that the games can be dangerous with rioting etc. and after hearing the intensity of my screaming neighbors, I have no doubt that that information is correct.

Naturally, I really wanted to see this emotional experience in person. So yesterday, we met another couple to catch the final game of the season. With a victory the local Boca "Juniors" would be season champions. I don't know that we could have gotten tickets if we wanted to, so we ended up at a pub to watch the game. It is interesting to note that their television stations cannot air the games, not unlike in the states, but what they do instead is to pan around the stadium as the fans sing and participate in this giant fiesta. This is two hours of air time on not one, but two different channels, that do not even show the game. This is why we had to go out to the bar to actually watch it. It was cool to see a herd of spectators standing outside the window to catch the game from the street, however, Boca was defeated. One very courageous individual cheered and yelled for the other team after each of their goals, but he was not torn limb from limb as I thought he may be. However, there is a playoff game this Wednesday, which will decide the outcome in a heads up duel between the two teams that are now tied for the top spot. It is also interesting to note that there are no playoffs, the team with the most points at the end of the season is the Champion, so certainly I would rather see the two teams battle it out. Otherwise, it is about as anticlimatic as college football.

Anyway, enough about soccer.

Bs As

2006-11-22T06:54:00.000-08:00

I guess that is the abbreviation used for Buenos Aires, like so many other things here, it is just a guess, and I act like I know what I am doing. Everything is like that, for instance, typing this blog is more difficult than at home. The keyboard is different with question marks, backslashes, apostrophes, shift button, etc. are in different places or marked differently. Worse still is asking to use the internet at the locutorio, or internet stands that blanket the city. Like all transactions, I am sure I sound completely retarded, but the people seem to understand what I am getting at. When we go out to eat, I have usually just ordered something off the menu not even knowing what it was. I have not been disappointed in what is served though.

Last night, we came across a restaurant which was really more like a barbeque cook out, the locals call it a parilla. This restaurant consists of a bar with huge grill up front where the taps should be. With various kinds of beef cooking up it is interesting that they do not serve anything else with this tremendous slab of meat, no potatos, salad, or rice; of course you can order that all separately, but that is not how it is done here, at the parilla, just a large hunk of cow, which is delicious. I ordered asado, which was a steak and Sarah had chicken. Both were awesome, the chicken was better, and with a salad and soda, the bill was 24 pesos with tip, or eight dollars.

These internet stands are interesting. The fact that there are so many internet shops is illuminating in itself. The people here all know how to use the internet and sit down and rifle through this foreign keyboard as though it were in their own homes, but of course it is not. It is a developed country, but it seems to be a step or two behind the U.S. the cars are older and many of them blast emissions into the streets as though there were no regulations whatsoever. However,I have been told that there is, they are just not enforced. This is easily my least favorite part of Bs As, oh yeah and the dog poop. Here is a city with tens of millions of people, and if that was not enough, everyone owns a dog. Literally on every block you walk down there is a nice present waiting for the misguided pedestrian, as it is said in Espanol, Ojo! However, the smog in our neighborhood is not bad, we are far from the downtown area, in the more affluent neighborhoods most drive new VWs and Fiats.

It should be noted that the subway system is very efficient, and most people do not drive. It is a good thing because driving is insane. I am reminded of Rome, there seem to be few rules as people go blasting down narrow one way streets. Many people drive little scooter/motor cycles and will pop right up on the side walk to manuever through traffic. There is even more foot traffic, and they will simply pop out in front of traffic and make them wait as well. I saw on the news the other day that at least one person is killed per day, many more I guess, by the buses and traffic. This was the subject of a civilian demonstration and protest, and as someone who would like to see more activism in the United States, I must say that it is almost too much here. Everyday, we see some sort of protest or parade, a man with a bullhorn reciting god knows what down the corridor of a government building, even a few old fashion riots in the smaller pueblos outside of town. However, it is difficult to understand exactly what is being said, I just know that there is no shortage of protestors in Argentina.

However, the fact that they seem to be behind the U.S. is exactly the charming aspect of this place. There are no massive chains that have taken over the markets here, at least that I have seen. When walking the street there is a large selection of little shops. A supermarket on every other block, pizzerias on every corner, and many different cafes to choose from. The people are of European descent and describe their city as the Paris of South America, I am not sure how Parisians feel about that, but I am certainly reminded of Paris in many ways. I recently read an article about the construction of Avenida de Mayo, one of the premier avenues in Buenos Aires, which was constructed with the direct objective of copying the French style.

Of course the images that I had created in my mind were more Mexican, even though I read and heard how European it is here. However, I have not seen a taco stand yet. The cafes, the subway, the art, the music that accompanies the famous tango dances are very European, and the European architecture never gets old, as one building is followed by another in an endless display of grandiosity. I still do not even know where the city ends, we are at the end of the subte line, but all I can see from the top of my building is more buildings to the north. However, toward the bay, or the "river" as they call it, we can see out to sea as well, just the very top of the horizon and the incoming airline traffic of domestic flights. It seems about the only thing they share in common with Mexico is a language which is still quite different. They speak Spanish with an Italian accent, half the time I wonder if it actually is Spanish, but they seem to understand what I have learned from the Mexicans in San Diego.

Well more later I guess

hasta luego

Time is winding down

2006-10-31T12:41:00.000-08:00

As our departure date nears the reality of this whole thing is beginning to set in. After more than four years with this job, I will call it quits after tonight's shift. With my law school applications completed, there are only the final preparations to be made before we leave for Argentina. I am stoked.

Vote one week from today.

A

is this thing on?

2006-10-11T08:38:00.000-07:00

no really, this is just a test.