the Buenos diaries

Back in the U.S.S.A.

2008-10-16T17:56:00.003-03:00

I miss: the beautiful blue Argentine skies, the way the city always smelled like asado and jasmine, the subte & the buses, sitting in a cafe for hours and hours, the constant noise and energy, walking everywhere, the pretty porteño accent, getting into funny conversations with strangers all the time, getting home at sunrise, 6 peso vodka, alfajores, my students, my friends, everything...
I love about being home: drivers that aren't actively trying to kill every pedestrian they see and that stop to let you cross the street, ellipticals at the gym, mexican food, family, friends, my dog, zero humidity even on hot days, the Barack Obama sign on every house & car where I live, how cheap restaurants & grocery stores are compared to BA, soy milk, and a million other things.

Thanks to everyone for reading this whole time! I haven't decided if I'll keep writing, since it won't really be the Buenos Diaries anymore. But keep checking back. Besos to all.
xx

Happy gnocchi day! Feliz ñoquis del 29!

2008-09-29T14:44:00.003-03:00

In case you didn't know, the 29th of each month in Argentina is Gnocchi Day! Can you imagine a better holiday? It comes once a month, not just once a year, and the whole purpose is to celebrate food. More details & quite a nice little article here. The bottom line is that we eat ñoquis on the 29th because of something having to do with payday, either that on the 29th you are poor and waiting for your paycheck, and flour & potatoes are cheap, or that you're celebrating that you got your paycheck, or that you put money under your plate because it's financially auspicious. Something like that. Somewhere along the line all the supersticions mixed in my head and I started to believe that you are actually supposed to put gnocchis under your pillow on the night of the 29th for good luck and prosperity, but I'm pretty sure that's not true. It sounds messy.
Anyway, E & I are going to Las Violetas, my favorite favorite old school BA café, for my last Gnocchi Day in Argentina. ¡Buen provecho!

And some more pictures of gnocchi to get you in the mood...

Gone Fishing...

2008-09-23T14:26:00.002-03:00

I'm on vacation! Vacation in Buenos Aires. Taking my last couple weeks in this beautiful city to relax, say good-byes, and scamper around with my beautiful and intrepid friend E who has come wayyyy down South to visit me, and try not to get too sad about leaving.

p.s. it is obviously a conspiracy that Spring finally came just as I'm about to leave and the city could not look prettier. Le sigh.

Ch-ch-changes

2008-09-13T18:04:00.005-03:00

I think of myself as someone who doesn't like change. But it seems that I actually have a strange addiction to it, as hard as it is. It's scary but exhilirating to not know what's going to happen next. All good things come to an end, and somehow I suddenly have less than a month left in Buenos Aires.
Yesterday was my last day of work as an English teacher. It's funny - I don't feel as sad or happy or anything as I expected. The hardest thing was saying goodbye to my first beginner student ever, Marcela. I've gotten close to a lot of my students but for some reason with Marcela it was more emotional, maybe because I've really seen her on this whole process of learning a language and I was so proud of her. Despite being completely different (me a random aimless foreigner here and her a mom in her forties with a family and office job and everything) we really clicked and could legitimately have fun and be silly together. In our last class we got close to tears laughing at how much we both hated The English Patient (Marcela: "Like, WHEN he die??") And then we actually both got close to tears again saying goodbye.
I've been trying my best to not think about leaving but for the first time today I did feel a little homesick for California, for family, the way the streets and the people look, how the air smells, and I got a little excited to go home.
Meanwhile I'm just going to appreciate every last minute I get to spend in this city - the way the sky looks and how the elevators smell (if you've been here you know what I mean, they ALL have the same smell), castellano, subte, dulce de leche & asado, the energy and pulse of the city. And as my friend Nina says, Buenos Aires isn't going anywhere. I can always come back.

Unsolved mysteries: Argentines & stairs

2008-08-26T21:35:00.006-03:00

After almost a year here, I'm pretty much convinced that Argentines have some genetic/cultural phobia of climbing stairs. Exhibit A: I've been here for nearly a year and I've lived in 5 different apartment buildings, always on a pretty low floor. During that time I have seen someone other than my foreign roommates & myself taking the stairs... 2 times. Ever. Seriously. Three if you count the time in Almagro when the power went out and the elevators weren't working. This just does not make sense to me since it actually takes longer to wait for the 17th century elevator in my current apartment building than to climb one or two flights of stairs.
And it's definitely not laziness or a relaxed cultural attitude towards time. Something hilarious I experience every single morning on the subte is that, as people approach the Florida metro stop, everyone stands up and clusters around the door so they can get off the train as quickly as possible (me included.) What's hilarious about this is that the crowd pushes out of the door, sprints to the bottom of the escalator, and then - stands still for the ride up. Yeah, you know how at home the non-walkers on the escalator stand to the right side so everyone else can pass them? Not here. You have to be the first person on that escalator if you want to actually walk up it.
Which is cool. It doesn't bother me because like there's anywhere that I really need to be 10 seconds earlier that desperately. But I mean, just totally out of curiousity... what is that??
I work in a 28 floor office building here, and I'm sorry, but really people? Can you not just take the stairs from the first to second floor? In the United States, it's kind of impolite, but moreover embarrassing, to take the elevator only one or two floors, unless you have a broken ankle or a heavy suitcase or something. No?

Mystery. But I love it. It's silly and endearing. Besooooooos!

Down the rabbit hole

2008-08-20T18:29:00.003-03:00

“What if I should fall right through the center of the earth... oh, and come out the other side, where people walk upside down?"
So I didn't fall down the rabbit hole - I came on a 747. But Buenos Aires does feel like Wonderland sometimes. It's so crazy and exaggerated and temporal and my life here is so changeable and accelerated. It's a different reality every weekend. And yes, there are people who want to help you, people who want to trick you, and people where you can't tell the difference. It can feel like a big urban Disneyland with different themed cities and towns, where the character of the city changes completely from one block to another. And you have to abandon the idea that things should make sense all the time, because they don't.
Why the sentimental shrooms-esque rambling? I guess because I'm leaving Buenos Aires in 6 weeks. I don't even want to write it down, because then it will be true. Now that I know I'm leaving so soon, I'm taking a closer look at everything around me, and becoming a little anxious and sad that my life here is slipping away from me and coming to an end. Even though I've been here almost a year, I feel like I've only begun to scratch the surface. And of course, because it's the law of the universe, I've finally met someone, just as I'm about to leave. C'est la vie, right? Maybe I'll be back, maybe not. I have a feeling I just might wake up one day in Northern California with a Buenos Aires-withdrawal induced panic attack and flee the United States again. Of course, if McRepublican wins this November, I'll be too ashamed to leave the country and will have to hide my face from the world for 4 years. Or buy a lot of maple-leaf clothing to wear when I travel.
I don't remember how the story ends. Alice finds her way out of the rabbit hole and back home, but is she happy when she gets there?

I ♥ Argentina, reason #5,786

2008-08-12T14:32:00.003-03:00

The schedule.

So, this morning I stumbled out of bed at 9:30 a.m. and slunk into the kitchen to make a cup of life-saving mate cocido. I don't do well in the mornings. I don't really even like to talk to anyone until I've been awake for at least an hour. Anyway, the Argentine mom in the apartment where I live was in the kitchen, took a look at me, and said, "It's way too early to wake up, isn't it?" (Although in Spanish.) Now. It wasn't sarcastic. What a nice, nice thing for an adult to say. Yeah, I still don't think of myself as an adult, maybe because I don't think I'll ever reach the age where I like to wake up early and give younger people a hard time about sleeping late. I love that about BA. At home if you look tired in the morning, or whine about waking up early, people will probably tease you or make you feel lazy. But here it's like, duh, no one likes to wake up in the morning. It's a given. Isn't that how it should be? Does anyone really like waking up early everyday? I think I've met like two of those people in my life and I felt kind of uneasy around them.
The schedule here is just so much more perfect for how I like to live - waking up late, working till late, eating dinner late, having long lunches and long coffee breaks. You have time to relax when you get home in the evening, because you don't have to go to bed at 11 p.m. to wake up at 6 the next morning. Of course, it can get a bit out of hand with the nightlife, and it's a problem when the only moments of daylight you see are in the cab ride home at sunrise. But having a job kind of prevents that problem from happening during the week.

Up next: I also love Argentina & Argentines because the whole country seems to have a crazily intense sweet tooth. And they are not apologizing for it. I think you need to be raised on loads of dulce de leche from a very young age to have that kind of tolerance for sugar.

Plastic Surgery: Why?

2008-08-07T19:48:00.004-03:00

I've written about a lot of things on here, but never before about plastic surgery. Buenos Aires is the capital of plastic surgery, and keep in mind that I did live in Los Angeles for 4 years. Maybe the plastic surgery here is just more noticeable. But whatever it is, it's not pretty. I just don't get it. I'm not someone who judges people for wanting to look good and even for going to extreme measures to do so. Personally I hate even going to the doctor and so probably wouldn't have surgery for purely aesthetic reasons, but I think if something really bothers you, and plastic surgery can fix it, then go ahead. That said, a lot of the plastic surgery here is not good. The most common thing is a huge, stretched-out and often lopsided mouth. You'll often see this huge mouth on the same face as eyes that look like the extra skin has just been clipped away and then sewn back together. Yesterday I was in the elevator at the office building where my institute it, a huge office building that probably half the population of microcentro works in. I was standing next to an ex-famous Argentine actress from the 1980's and I could literally see the line in front of her ear where her facelift ended. Why, why, why? It's not about looking prettier, or younger. It's a really strange aesthetic that I don't understand. And what's more, when you're talking to someone with really obvious plastic surgery, it's so distracting and embarassing, and it's like a car accident where you don't mean to stare but you can't look away.
It's also pretty questionable that 15-year-old girls routinely get boob jobs as the ultimate quinceañera gift and that one of my students who is 21 just got liposuction. We think we're obsessed with looks in the United States but it just doesn't compare to here. It's strange and sad, and especially in a country with so many naturally beautiful people.

Photos: Argentina's most famous plastic surgery divas, Susana Giménez & Moria Casán

Talento Argentino

2008-07-28T21:14:00.006-03:00

Talento Argentino may be the greatest show of our time. I've never watched America's Got Talent, but I can't imagine that it holds a candle to the Argentine version. I searched youtube for a video of the guy to the left, "El Rey," but unfortunately couldn't find one. All I can tell you is that I laughed until I cried. And well, I do that pretty often, but everyone else I was with laughed until they cried as well. Judge Catherine (below) was obviously moved to tears as well. But not by El Rey - by a group of breakdancing kids from the street. South America really does silly reality tv shows a lot better than the United States. We have a lot of trashy shows about famous-for-being-famous people where nothing happens (The Hills/Girls Next Door*) while South America has a lot of shows that just make absolutely no sense, but in a completely awesome and unapologetic way. There is usually some vague gameshow premise, but, in addition to the host, there will also be, like, a random guy in a full-size panda suit, a male model wearing tiny tightie-whities, a squirrel, and a geisha wandering around, or possibly dancing. Or a guy with a comb-over dressed in a hot pink unitard with huge fake boobs stuffed into the chest (picture the Principal in Billy Madison.) I'm not making any of that up, I saw all of those things on one show alone last night. And then they all jump into a swimming pool at the end. Amazing.
*That doesn't mean I don't watch The Hills & The Girls Next Door. Holly's my favorite.
**(both photos from talentosargentinos.com)

Blah teaching English blah blah

2008-07-23T21:39:00.005-03:00

So, I just got home from teaching English for 11 hours straight without breaks. Which seems a bit illegal, but.. Come to think of it, everything about my employment here is under the table, so whatever. I'm alternately so sick of thinking about/talking about teaching English but then it is kind of the majority of my life here - all of my friends are either English teachers or students. And it has such lovely moments. Like today, I had a new student who is a total beginner, doesn't know how to say hello or how are you, who I was kind of dreading, but then he turned out to be totally sweet and adorable AND, has one of the most amazingly hilarious situations that I have ever heard - after about an hour of struggling through English we took a break and switched to Spanish so we could get to know each other and chat. He showed me a picture of his beautiful wife and three gorgeous daughters and told me that they are all English teachers. Except the youngest, who is fifteen, but she speaks English fluently. I guess they like to chat in English when they want to leave him out of the conversation! He is also very well-traveled, so I can't imagine how he's managed to escape English for so long.
Anyway, after that class I had a student who makes Jude Law look like Quasimodo, who I kind of try to behave normally around but get distracted by his gorgeous green eyes while he's doing the TOEFL speaking section. He's the student who I had a running joke about with the director of my institute, because he has been my student for weeks and weeks and had never brought up his girlfriend - which doesn't sound strange, but if you are studying for the TOEFL, you pretty much have to discuss every aspect of your life with the teacher, and he is a family friend of the director so we knew he had a girlfriend. I like to think it was because he was flirting with me, but who knows. He finally did mention his girlfriend, last week, in the sentence, "My girlfriend's dad is the president of Banco Nacional." Guess I can't really compete with Señorita moneybags, le sigh.
And speaking of my institute, it's totally become like a little home to me, which is really lucky and really rare for English teachers in BA. Most never meet another teacher at their institute and one girl I know picks up her salary from the institute's director once a month on a designated street corner. Safe and classy. But my institute is like a fun, cozy little clique of girls and women. There is hilarious Lili, the recepcionist, who jokes (?) about loving much younger men and recently called one of the students "feo pero, feo feo!" Pobrecito.
There's always celebrity gossip on the computer, various chocolate and candy, and someone to giggle with when the hot students come and go. "Bonbones!" as Lili would say.
There are things I love, and don't want to leave. But then, I kind of remember that I am getting paid so little that it feels more like volunteer work than a real job. Saving money is not an option. It's too bad that that that matters so much, but it does. C'est la vie of being an English teacher.

P.s. (unrelated) Sorry, this is like some horrible stream of consciousness creative writing assignment, but I'm exhausted and ranting. So here's some more: I've been kind of playing the 'naive foreigner' card with this whole political situation, because I don't want to offend anyone that I talk to, but I'm over it. Not that anyone in the United States will know what the heck I'm talking about, BUT - in my opinion, Julio Cobos saved this country's ass, for the meantime at least. If that tax law had passed, there would have been a total crisis. A disaster. I'm sick of seeing all these Pro-Kirchnerista posters about how he's a traitor and "real democracy" would have been to blindly do what his party told him to. Are they serious? The Argentine girl I live with is Kirchnerista and was telling me that it is the president's right to do what she wants and it should be that way, and that the farmers make a ridiculous amount of money. Well. I kind of just said, claro, claro, and smiled when we were talking, because I don't want mala onda, but! I so completely disagree with that. The whole point of a federalist system is that the executive branch doesn't have all the power and can't just act on its own, unchecked. And well, maybe the farmers make a ton of money, but shouldn't the taxes be distributed by income and not by industry then?

Okey. Ya basta. Besoooos...

Before Sunrise

2008-07-17T23:09:00.008-03:00

I stepped outside and into the city this morning, and something was different. The heartbeat, the flow, the mood and molecules of the city had changed.
All because of something that happened in the middle of the night, 7 blocks from where I was sleeping.
Last night was a big, big moment in Argentine politics & history. Whether it was good or bad depends on your point of view.
Here's some very, very condensed (and mildly one-sided) background information: in March, la presidenta CFdK wanted to raise taxes (from 35 to 45%) on the farmers, and they were like, no, we think we'll strike instead and she was like, well I'm not negotiating with you people, and they were like, fine, we'll just strike forever then, and also perhaps you should stop flaunting how crazily wealthy you are and how you never wear the same outfit twice while you are chastizing us for not wanting to redistribute wealth and help the poor. Or something like that.
So anyway, the proposed tax law, which was very unpopular and totally polarizing the country and becoming a very sad and seemingly deadlocked situation, was passed in Congress and went to a vote in the Senate last night. The Pro-K's were clustered in Plaza Congreso and the ruralistas in Palermo waiting for the results. The Senate debated for 18 hours and came to a tie at around 4 a.m., so it was up to vice-prez Julio Cobos to decide. No pressure there...
And then, in this totally heartbreakingly brave speech right out of some old Hollywood, Mr. Smith goes to Washington-esque movie, Cobos votes against the president, against his own party, and for the campo, saying, "Some say I have to go along [with the president] but my heart says something else. I don't think this is a reason to put the country, the government, and social peace in risk. This is one of the most difficult moments in my life... I don't believe it makes sense to pass a law that is not a solution to this conflict. History will judge me, I don't know how. I'm a family man like all of you and I have a responsibility in this case... this doesn't mean I'm betraying anyone.
May history judge me, my vote is against."*
*Which all sounded better in Castellano.
I don't pretend to know every detail, or even most details and information, about this. But I do know what most of my students and friends here have told me, and that is: this is democracy. They feel for the first time in awhile that democracy is alive and kicking in Argentina, and that the federalist system is working. Someone dared to speak out against los K. The mood on the street just feels a little lighter, a little happier, a little more proud.
Also, I totally have a crush on Julio Cobos now.

P.s. just to clarify, not everyone in Argentina/Buenos Aires is happy about what happened - far from it. The feeling I have about what happened is just what I've gotten from talking with my students and other people and trying to understand a very complicated situation as best I can.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

2008-07-13T17:51:00.010-03:00

...with a little political tension thrown in to make things interesting.

"Don't fuck with the food."
i.e. don't screw around with the campo, where all the food is produced.

You can buy maiz to feed the palomas...
Also known as pigeons. Kind of like feeding sewer rats?
I don't know, pigeons scare me. And I'll never understand how in Spanish the same word is used for pigeons and doves.

Dancing

2008-07-09T15:01:00.002-03:00

I dare you to watch this without smiling:

More info here.

Happy birthday, baby!

2008-07-05T15:31:00.003-03:00

Happy birthday Canada (July 1st), USA (July 4th), and Argentina (July 9th.) I guess something about July just makes people want their independence. Even though yesterday didn't include the excesses of red, white & blue, barbeque-hopping, microbrew-drinking and watching the 3 Bay Area fireworks shows that a 4th of July at home would have, it was still fun. I was the only United States American in the group, but we were all American-Americans, so we toasted to that, and wondered what it would be like to be from a country that was never a colony.
Sidenote: a lot of people ask me if it feels Anti-United States down here. Well, it doesn't. Not on a personal level. Aside from some interesting assumptions that all Yanquis are rolling in money, most people I meet don't generalize. I mean, yeah, they hate George Bush and Paris Hilton, but who doesn't? Apart from one very ignorant 18-year-old from Holland (who had never visited the United States) saying, "McDonald's is not culture," most people realize that we are a huge country, with a lot of different types of people and places, and while we have our share of close-minded, xenophobic people, so does every country. Being here has made me more patriotic than I was when I left. Just watch, next year on the 4th of July, I'll be the one in a homemade dress constructed from an American flag, swigging Budweiser. Well, maybe not Budweiser, yeccchhh, pero me entendés.
On a related note, mate seems to be a very good hangover cure.

Les mando un beso a todos!

San Telmo's Fire

2008-06-29T19:32:00.013-03:00

Yes, I am a huge dork. But I've been waiting to use that horrible play on words, somewhere, for months. How is there not a bar in San Telmo with that name yet? (If you're out of the loop/ weren't born in the 1980's, I'm referring of course to St. Elmo's Fire, a brat pack Andrew McCarthy/Ally Sheedy movie from 1985.) Anyway, I took my camera out today, something I always forget to do, and took some pictures of my neighborhood and around San Telmo. Then I saw the most amazing sunset I have ever seen in my life. Here we go:

My favorite Subte line, Linea A, and the Casa Rosada.

Pan relleno - a HUGE fabulous piece of homemade bread stuffed with tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella. Against my better judgement, I ate almost the whole thing.

"Live with passion every instant of your life. Be happy, dream, and together we'll build a different future."

Plaza de Mayo

Av. Roque Sáenz Peña & the obelisco

Espanglish is espectacular

2008-06-25T19:23:00.008-03:00

Who doesn't love Spanglish? There's nothing better than a conversation between people who both speak Spanish & English fluently (or close to it) because you can pick and choose the best and most convenient words from each language - words like "cozy" or "upset" that don't have perfect translations in Spanish, or like "regalar" or "tener ganas" that lack a perfect equivalent in English.

Exstrangers = strangers + extranjeros
What pass? = awful direct translation of ¿Que pasa?*
*Popularized by Moria Casán on Bailando por un sueño (the Argentine version of Dancing with the Stars)
Milagrous = milagroso/a + miraculous
It has sense = tener sentido + it makes sense
Living = living room
Ejemple = ejemplo + example
Fashion = in fashion/fashionable (Ex. Starbucks is so popular because it's fashion here.)

9 months in Argentina and my Spanish is still not fluent, my English is increasingly stranger and less coherent every day. But my Spanglish is just perfect. So much so that it interferes with my teaching. I think teachers who don't speak Spanish are probably better teachers in some ways, because if their students say something incomprehensible, they will simply not understand. Whereas I now automatically translate it into Spanish and back into English in my head and often don't even realize I've done it or that what the student said was wrong. When 90% of the conversations you have in English are with non-native speakers, you get so accustomed to certain mistakes that they stop sounding odd.

The most common mistakes are little things like saying "career" instead of degree, translating directly from "carrera," or getting confused by other false cognates like support & soportar, sensible & sensible, assist & asistir, etc., which sound alike but have completely different meanings. There are some pretty funny ones, like molestarse, which means "to bother" in Spanish, and translates to sentences like "I don't mean to molest you, but..." or the confusion between earn and win, which are the same word in Spanish, so you hear things like, "He wins 15 pesos every hour."

I don't have so many good examples of the same thing happening with English speakers trying to speak Spanish... Except one beloved incident that occured with W while we were living in Palermo last year. We went to a restaurant and I ordered steak & mashed potatoes, and he ordered a milanesa with french fries. The waiter explained that that particular dish was actually meant for two people. W then gestured at me and said something like, "Bueno, lo mismo," as in, Okay, I'll have what she's having in that case. And then added, "Y con papas fritas." Doubtless, when our orders came, I got my steak and W got the Milanesa and french fries for two, with an extra side of french fries. Try, if you can, to imagine the hysterical laughter, to the point of tears, that followed, thinking about what the waiter must have thought. Like, Oh really? That dish is for two? Perfect. Could I have some extra french fries with that?

Anyway. I love Spanglish. On another note, I also love winter in Bs As if for no other reason than the vendors on the street selling hot sugared almonds - I've never tried them but it has to be the best smell in the entire world.

xoxo

101 National Holidays

2008-06-15T16:01:00.004-03:00

Good God, Argentina has a ridiculous amount of public holidays. It seems like at least every other week there is some holiday either devoted to one of the big names in Argentine history (Belgrano, San Martín, etc.) or something Catholic. Tomorrow is Día de la Bandera (Flag Day.) So are there really more national holidays in Argentina than the United States? Yes. Thanks to Wikipedia: The United States has 10 national holidays, while Argentina has 15. The UK has only 8 and Israel, apparently, has 24.
I know, you're thinking, that's awesome! Lots of holidays = good! But. First, I get paid hourly, not on salary, so a public holiday means either a day of missed pay or that I have to somehow arrange with my students to squeeze that day's classes into my schedule for the rest of the week. Second, holidays are usually spent with family in Arg, and these are the days that being an expat is kind of sad. Even my friends who have Argentine boyfriends/husbands, and therefore are much more integrated into Argentine family life, say they find these days more or less sad and depressing. On these days, you miss being around people over the age of 25, who have some semblance of stability in their life, and you remember the little miscellaneous comforts of home like having baking ingredients around all time (not just buying them each time you decide to make cookies) and having a newspaper delivered. You know, a real home.
I guess I've been feeling extra transient lately, both because I just got back from a trip home, and because another group of friends has left - the life of an expat is cycling through people who come here on vacation or travel and leave after a few months. After a while, you get a bit jaded and don't really want to invest time into these people, because as cool as they may be, they won't be around for long. And Argentine friends are fantastic, but don't really understand what it's like to live here as an extranjero.
Well. Off to commiserate with a fellow expat chica from Canada. You'll find us drowning our sorrows in locro and Malbec somewhere in Palermo.

I ♥ BA

2008-06-09T18:06:00.011-03:00

That had to be the title because I was kind of having doubts about how much I loved BA. Well, not really, but more like I forgot while I was away. Because I was home, where everything is so much easier, it's all in my own language, there's Mexican food and the milk tastes normal, and there are trees and lawns and backyards everywhere. So much is taken for granted. But now I'm back, and I remember why I love it so much here. Even though it's chaotic and crowded and insane and there is no spicy food, there is something magical about this city. It's like a crazy urban Disneyland. It's not for everyone, but once you've lived here, you can live anywhere.

I do have one complaint, more about the entire Southern hemisphere than just Buenos Aires, and that is: winter doesn't work without winter holidays. Winter arrived while I was away and now the air is clear and crisp outside and it's warm and cozy inside, and you get to wear scarves and gloves, and I really like all that. I love winter. But I keep thinking to myself, Christmas is just around the corner, and then it's like, oh wait, no, it's June. At home winter is synonymous with Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, New Year's, lots of big holidays, big parties, cooking big meals, seeing friends & family. Christmas doesn't work as a summer holiday. I've witnessed it. Santa Claus just looks silly wearing a fur-lined velvet suit in 100 degree heat.
It gives me seasonal vertigo being down here, but I guess that won't be changing anytime soon.

Anyway, I still love it. And now, there's a Starbucks in BA!!! I thought it was an urban legend that Starbucks was coming, but it's true, I saw it with my own eyes. And Argentines, it turns out, love Starbucks even more than we do, because there was a line around the block.

Below: pretty pictures! From before I left but I never got around to posting them.

Oui Oui.

Gorgeous dog in Boca.

Even the elephants live in style. Bs As Zoo.

Gone Fishin'

2008-05-21T12:20:00.002-03:00

Well kids, I'm on vacation! Not in Kauai as the picture suggests, but somewhere just as good, home! New York & back home to California on the 28th. I'll probably be too busy shopping at Target and drinking huge To Go iced soy lattes from Starbucks to write much. Also trying to order in Spanish and marveling at how big everything is. Back in BA in June.
Besoooooos!

Working for vacation

2008-05-13T16:14:00.009-03:00

Current theme song: Cibo Matto's Working for vacation from Stereo Type A
"Feeling wrong cuz the days are too long/counting heartbeats, 72 in a minute..." Go download, you!

Anyway, I'm going on vacation next week! On holiday, as my very properly and Britishly trained students would say. For the first time in my life, I'm going on a vacation to the United States. One week in New York and around, then one week at home in the beautiful Bay Area, in my beloved Golden State. It goes without saying that I am the most excited to see my family and friends (and dog and cat.)

Apart from that, I'm counting down the days till I can:

Communicate effortlessly.
Eat at Intermezzo, Cheeseboard, Gordo's, Cafe Raj, Zachary's, Cactus, SF Japantown, the list goes on and on. And yes, get a huge decaf soy latte at Starbucks. I miss that too.
And, eat spicy food. Actually spicy. In case you don't know, 99% of Argentines that I've met can't eat spicy food and melodramatically fan their mouths and make desperate faces when they eat, like, a salad with a little black pepper sprinkled on it.
Drink a local microbrew IPA on the patio at Jupiter, Raleigh's, or Triple Rock
Lay in the sun in my backyard (because it's almost summer at home!!!)
Take the dog for a run at the Berkeley Marina and watch the fog roll in
Go to Safeway and see no less than 15 people I went to high school with and/or their parents
Wander through the UCB campus and end with a coffee at Strada
Do my own laundry, in my own house, for free! *Well, okay, I kind of need to edit that, since I just had a HUGE bag of laundry washed and dried for only 9 pesos. And before you think I'm all spoiled, sending my laundry out, that's the only way to get your laundry done in BA. I've never seen a self-service laundromat, and it's dirt cheap to have it done for you, because, unlike in Santiago de Chile where they charge by the kilo, here they charge by the bag, no matter how big or small. And it comes back warm, folded neatly and smelling just like fresh laundry should. Anyway.

What I think I'll miss most about BA while I'm gone:

Kisses! I love, love, love the excessive amount of cheek kissing that goes on in this culture.
The colectivos. That's not sarcastic, I will really miss the unapologetic craziness of this system. Especially now that I've discovered the 140 bus line, painted lipstick red, doing their best to out-crazy all the other lines and drivers, and give you an exhilarating brush with death every time you ride. Not bad for just 90 centavos.
How beautiful, entertaining, ridiculous, lively & chaotic, and convenient the city is.
Gorgeous Argentine men in business suits (just being honest, okay...)
Constant public transportation problems meaning you ALWAYS have a good excuse for being late
Hearing Spanish everywhere and therefore being able to relax and tune out other people's conversations in public places more easily than I can with English
My adorable students! (The good ones.)
The sky. I don't know, the sky here is something special, it's extra blue and pretty

What I won't miss:

Lazy waiters who disappear after they bring your food and test your morals by making it too easy to dine & ditch (hacer un pagadios)
Crazy inflation so you never know how much a Coke Light is gonna cost
The occasional student who puts no effort into classes and makes me feel like every class is a bad first date
Being asked, ¿De dónde sos? every time I open my mouth. Or people who immediately assume I am a tourist and don't take the time to realize that I can actually speak and understand Spanish, despite my accent.
My horrible gym with its 18th century Brazilian treadmills

I just read this over and realized that my writing has a bit of a non-native English speaker feel to it these days. Pero bueno, no hace falta que escriba perfectamente aquí. Anyway, I'm tired after a long day of not working (all classes cancelled) and need to go chill out with some friends over a Quilmes, some pizza & faina. That's something else I'll miss.

Luego, mis amores!

I heart teaching English

2008-05-06T23:04:00.008-03:00

Ahh... Some days I love being an English teacher. Obviously I love it because most of my students are so fun and lovable, but I also appreciate weeks like this one, where, for example, in the last three days I had 7 classes scheduled, but only had to teach 3 of them. There is a wonderful rule among the language institutes of Buenos Aires that if a student cancels less than 24 hours before the class, the teacher gets paid regardless. If a student doesn't show up for class, the teacher should wait 30 minutes and then is free to go (and of course, gets paid.) This is a completely necessary rule, since most students are so flaky (especially the ones whose companies pay for their lessons) and it makes teaching much nicer and more relaxing. At first I was annoyed when students cancelled while I was in the Subte on the way to their class, or stepping through the front door to their office. Or when students just completely didn't show up. Now, I've been outside of the United States long enough to have almost overcome that innate Yanqui compulsion towards organization and professionalism. Who needs it? A cancelled class means 30 - 40 free pesos and a lot of free time. Also, since I would have already prepped for that class, there's no prep to be done for the next one.
Teaching English is a pretty amazing gig if you think about it. No, the pay is not good. But there are some pretty incredible upsides, like abundant work and constant job offers, the most laid-back job interviews I have ever experienced, and the ability to set your own schedule (I don't work before 1 p.m. It's like a dream come true.) And the cancellations are nice too.
Which is why, on days like today, I have time to relax in my perfect new apartment and chat in Spanish about cultural differences between Argentina and Chile and how to make Lemon Pie, go to the completely ghetto gym down the street and try to figure out the treadmills (all Brazilian, all in Portuguese), and post stuff here. Like this poem by Borges, that I love, love love, it totally captures something about the essence of Buenos Aires and how it feels when you accidentallly stumble onto some perfect beautiful little street, with old and crumbling buildings and laundry hung on the balconies, and it reminds you why you love it here.

Calle Desconocida

En esa hora en que la luz
tiene una finura de arena,
di con una calle ignorada,
abierta en noble anchura de terraza,
cuyas cornisas y paredes mostraban
colores blandos como el mismo cielo
que conmovía el fondo.
Todos — la medianía de las casas,
las modestas balaustradas y llamadores,
tal vez una esperanza de niña en los balcones
entró en mi vano corazón
con limpidez de lágrima

Unknown Street

In that hour when the light has the fineness of sand,
I happened on a street unknown to me,
ample and broadly terraced,
whose walls and cornices
took on the pastel color of the sky
that nudged the horizon.
Everything — the drab houses,
the crude banisters, the doorknockers,
perhaps the hopes of a girl dreaming on a balcony –
all entered into my vain heart
with the clarity of tears

Casa sweet casa... #5

2008-05-04T21:25:00.004-03:00

I just moved into my 5th apartment in Buenos Aires... the first a year ago when I was first here, and the last 4 in the last 7 months. Wow. Writing that makes me feel like some quaint old-fashioned hobo or tramp who wandered around during the Great Depression with a bundle of things tied up in a checkered blanket and attached to a stick slung over my shoulder. But anyway, I am not normally this transient, and in fact as I discovered while packing up all my things, I am in fact a huge packrat. ('Do I need this skirt I bought 4 months ago and still haven't worn once? Um... YES, obviously.') We packrats don't deal too well with a nomadic lifestyle.
Anyway, what's exciting about this new place is that for the first time I am living a) not in Palermo and b) not with other Yanquis. For anyone who doesn't know, Palermo is like the Beverly Hills of Buenos Aires. Well, much more urban. But basically, it's known for tree-lined streets, great bars and restaurants, pretty parks, and being home to the BA upwardly mobile.
*Sidenote/little history lesson: I recently learned that, actually, San Telmo & the South of the city used to be the rich part. But then, when the Yellow Fever epidemic of 1871 came, the rich fled to the North, to what is now Barrio Norte, Recoleta, etc. Huge elaborate mansions in San Telmo were turned into multiple family homes (conventillos), now mostly used as art galleries. And the North became what it is today, home to the mildly/extravagantly wealthy (see the Alvear Hotel or any house in San Isidro.)
Anyway, with the exception of 6 weeks spent living in Almagro in 2007, I've only lived in Palermo. My new apartment is in Tribunales/Congreso/Once, depending who you ask, and if I'm among chetos I can lie and say it's in Barrio Norte. I'm living with an Argentine family, who has a daughter just a little older than me who is studying philosophy at la UBA, and a British guy. Here's something interesting for anyone reading this from the USA - you know how at home, being a university professor is a pretty cushy job? Tenure, big salary, easy work hours, reserved parking space? Well, not here. Professors here basically work for the love of their subject and often have to hold down two jobs so they can support themselves. I thought our education system was a mess, but Argentina could definitely give us a run for our money in that department.
Anyway, I have high hopes for this new apartment, that my Spanish will improve a bit, my commute to work will be much shorter, and hopefully I won't need to move again, at least for a few months.
I'm also now on Subte Linea B (Subway Line B) instead of D. This may not sound significant, but I have a theory about Buenos Aires, classism, and the Subte. Linea D is hands down the nicest line, the chic one, which carries Palermo & Belgrano residents to office jobs in Microcentro, or to shopping on Santa Fe. Linea C, on the other hand, is like a one-way train to Ghettotown. Literally, if you're going to the end of the line in Constitucion, something I do every Thursday. I swear, someone needs to do a sociological survey about this. You can measure it using the "People with iPods vs. People Missing Teeth" Ratio. The other lines fall somewhere in between. Linea A is adorable and old-fashioned with cute retro subte cars. Linea B, I'm not sure, but at least I don't have to transfer to get to work anymore.
Okay, enough rambling! besos to all.

AlfajOreo!

2008-04-30T23:41:00.004-03:00

A combination of laziness and busy-ness means that not much is getting written on here these days. But I'm breaking my dry spell to tell you all about something seriously amazing that I discovered today. Or rather, that my friend Sarah introduced me to. (Sidenote: guys have some fascination with two blonde girls who have the same name. Sort of like with twins. The best was when, upon hearing that we are both named Sarah and from the United States, one guy asked if we were sisters. 'Yes,' Sarah said, 'And our parents named us BOTH Sarah.')
Anyway. I had heard tell of the existence of an Oreo alfajor, but had never actually witnessed one until today. For all y'all in the USA, an alfajor is a cookie made from two or three cookies stuck together, usually by dulce de leche, but sometimes by fruit or chocolate mousse, and often the whole thing is dipped in chocolate. So, Oreo + alfajor?? Amazing. It's like North meets South! I tried my first one today, it's basically a huge oreo with three cookies instead of two and then the whole thing is covered in more chocolate. And there is no dulce de leche anywhere in it!
Here's the thing about dulce de leche: it's okay. I like it okay. When I first got here I wasn't having it, but now it's alright. BUT I do not love it, and in a country that legally requires all desserts and sweets to contain a certain percentage of dulce de leche, and it is regarded with an almost nationalistic kind of blind reverence... well, it's nice to find an alternative. (I just had this conversation over our Oreo alfajores with Sarah, in which she said that her fiancee, an Argentine, would probably not speak to her for a week if he heard us dissing dulce de leche.)
I hope no one's offended and I don't get deported for publishing negative comments about D. de leche on the internet. I'll just add that I'm not all that impressed by dulce, BUT the beef down here is just as good as everyone says it is. Better. Really, it's fantastic.
That's all for now! Back to packing up and getting ready to move to my new apartment (more on that later.) Everyone down here, enjoy your holiday for día del trabajo!

Smoke gets in your eyes

2008-04-20T00:48:00.011-03:00

So... nice weather we've been having. Unless maybe you've been living under a rock (or in the USA), you probably know that Buenos Aires is drowning in smoke from fires up north for the fifth day in a row. They are crop fires that, if you listen to the government, were started by reckless and/or conniving farmers. Ugh, who knows. I just want it to end.
You know when you've been in a super smoky underground club all night, and it's so gross, and you can't breathe, and you can smell the smoke in your hair and feel it on your skin? And all you want to do is emerge into the cool fresh air? Well, it's kind of like that except you can't escape. Really. Most of the highways leading out of the city are closed and the domestic airport is cancelling flights. Boo.

Well, what you can you do in this smoke but find new destinations in the city for art, culture, and air conditioning?

Today was Museo Xul Solar, Las Violetas (one of my favorite old school Buenos Aires cafés), Abasto shopping, and Casa Museo Carlos Gardel. With mi mama querida visiting me, I am getting to revisit & visit for the first time some nice touristy places. Museo Xul Solar was fantastic - lovely art, a super cool space, and lots of clean air! The others were smoky - but nice.

by Xul Solar...

Love his work!

Abasto & Gardel Museum

Pray for us here in la ciudad del humo... we've had about all the feo we can handle this week.

Sí, quiero...

2008-04-15T01:36:00.003-03:00

I love this commercial. It's really cute. Maybe now I'll even try the 7up H2Oh! manzana they've been handing out in the subte lately. Anyway, enjoy! It'll make you feel all warm and fuzzy, and Lord knows we all need some warm fuzziness especially since winter just came to Buenos Aires overnight.

Luna de miel

2008-04-09T19:52:00.019-03:00

The honeymoon's over. I've been in Argentina for 6 months, which means I don't have stars in my eyes about Buenos Aires anymore and I'm beginning to see what life here is really about.
It also means that I had to go across the river to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay, to celebrate (read: renew my visa.) Before I went I was thinking about it as more of an expensive chore than a nice daytrip, but that changed when I arrived. Sidenote: to get to Colonia, you take a Buquebus ferry from Puerto Madero - there is a fast one that takes less than an hour, and a slow one that takes three hours. I took the fast one and it was basically more like a posh airplane than a boat - there were television screens and a duty free shop and nothing to indicate you were on a boat - no deck or access to the outside, no bumps or waves either.
Once you arrive, the historical part of town is a short walk from the ferry terminal. You cross a medieval-ish wooden drawbridge into the old part of the city, which is adorable, cobblestoned and picturesque. Even though it's totally touristy, it doesn't feel that way at all. It was quiet, uncrowded and serene. The perfect place to wander tiny winding streets, gaze out at the river and admire the brightly painted buildings - you could be anywhere in the Mediterranean.
While I was in Colonia, I realized something. When you live in a big, crazy city - in the case of Buenos Aires, extra big and extra crazy - you sometimes forget what the real world is like. The real world outside of the insane video game that is life in a big city. I am, undeniably, a city girl: I feel much more comfortable surrounded by skyscrapers, noise, and pigeons than trees, hills, and grass. However, I have come to the conclusion that, although endearing, Buenos Aires could drive even the most sane person in the world completely crazy.
So Colonia was a welcome, and desperately needed, breath of fresh air. It was adorable, quaint, and calm. And, I got what I needed, a stamp in my passport and 90 more precious days of legal residence in Argentina.

More pictures of Colonia below...

Pretty!

Yes, the Río de la Plata is actually that color. Silver it is not. It looks like the chocolate river in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. I don't know why.

Mellowed out Uruguayan perros sleeping in the sun.

Fireflies

2008-03-27T23:35:00.003-03:00

Either I am totally losing my mind, or there was a firefly in my bedroom last night. I woke up to a particularly loud crash of thunder, to see a tiny and very brightly illuminated something perched on the chandelier in my bedroom. After several minutes of sleep-infused confusion, I realized it had to be a lightning bug. We don't have fireflies in California, so it took a minute to figure it out. The last time I saw lightning bugs I was 8 years old, on the East Coast, in the backyard of my best friend's uncle's house, catching the fireflies in pickle jars, giving them names and detailed family histories.
Well. If fireflies don't exist in Buenos Aires, please don't tell me, because it means I'm much crazier than I realize.
And speaking of madness, Buenos Aires seems to be a more chaotic mess than usual with the paro del campo going on. No meat, chicken, or milk can get through to the capital. At least I'm learning a lot of new Spanish vocab and don't have to plan lessons this week, because every one of my students is content to give me a lesson on Argentine politics and what is going on right now and their opinion on the farmers, the strike, Cristina, and how she needs to cool it with the botox. And I am of course more than happy to listen, I have a pretty complete idea of what's going on now, much more than I could have just from reading the newspapers.
What I really wanted to post was this story, a well-known Buddhist story as retold by fantastic Bay Area writer Annie Lamott. I try to keep it in mind, especially with all the little things in my life that I'm worried about, like what the hell I'm doing with my life and the fact that I'm about to be living in a refrigerator box on Calle Florida because starting May 1st I will be homeless.
So here's the story:

An aging farmer in China one morning discovers that wild horses have crashed through the fences that surround his farm. "Oh, this is terrible," say the neighbors, looking at the wreckage. The farmer shrugs. "Good news? Bad news? Who knows?" Then the farmer's son is able to catch a few of the horses. "This is fantastic!" say the neighbors, watching the great horses in the corral. The farmer shrugs: "Good news? Bad news? Who knows." While trying to tame the last of the wild horses, the farmer's son is thrown, and breaks his leg. "Oh, this is awful," say the neighbors, knowing how greatly the aging farmer relies on his son. "Good news? Bad news? Who knows," says the farmer. And then, while the son is convalescing in bed with his badly broken leg, the Chinese army comes through the countryside, conscripting all the local able-bodied men for the war raging in the South...

¡Felices pascuas, chiquis!

2008-03-23T15:01:00.003-03:00

*bunny photo from cuteoverload

Love, hate, & tango

2008-03-22T14:50:00.005-03:00

Last night I went to a lovely party thrown by a friend who is a tango dancer. The party was mostly women, a handful of men, and several Siamese cats. Since about half the people there were tango dancers (sadly, not including me) we got to watch dance after dance of beautiful tango right there in the living room. It was much nicer than seeing it at a tango show or in the street in San Telmo - this was the real thing, people who closed their eyes when they danced, who danced with the same lust and sadness in their movements whether their partner was young, old, beautiful, someone they just met or had known forever. Tango is an amazing dance - beautiful and sexy and tragic. The man leads and provides the foundation of the dance and the woman adds drama with her little kicks and turns. At times, she leans into him on the tips of her toes as if she will fall if he does not catch her.
Tango was not always a well-respected dance. One of my students, who is 17, said his mother told him that her mother, his grandmother, made it well-known that if any of her daughters knew how to dance tango she would kick them out of the house. There is a myth, I don't know if it's true, that tango was created in the brothels of Buenos Aires.
Besides beautiful tango, I saw something else very Argentine last night - fighting and jealousy between women. One was a potential love interest of my friend, who had recently told me she was playing games with him, playing very cold - he was amused by it. The other was a beautiful tango dancer who may or may not be interested in my friend, or she may just hate the mala onda created by woman #1. Either way, they were really doing everything possible to make each other jealous and bringing new meaning to the expression "if looks could kill." It was very overt and created an almost palpable tension between the two women.
Here I'm obligated to say that competition between women exists in all parts of the world, and that there are, of course, exceptions in Argentina. But there is something here that I really haven't found in other places I've been, an essential sentiment of hostility, competition and jealousy between women. Usually I'm exempt, being a foreigner, but sometimes I do become aware of it and it has a real viciousness that I haven't felt at home. Of course there are so many Argentine women are not like that, who are laid back and strike up conversations in the bathrooms of clubs and laugh at the chamuyero Argentine men.
Anyway, last night left me thinking about it. The vast majority of my students are women here and they are almost all very bright, engaging, kind, ambitious, eloquent people. But is that because we met in a classroom and not at a bar? Really, what is with the interactions between women in this country? I feel like it has something to do with the status of feminism here, that there never really was a women's movement à la Women's Lib in the 1970's USA, and gender roles are still very strictly defined. Could be something with economic dependence too. I think it's complicated, and really, ¿qué sé yo?

Chicken noodle soup

2008-03-17T18:50:00.002-03:00

I need some. I have the stomach flu, on St. Patrick's Day. Where is my luck of the Irish?? Or 1/8 Irish to be exact. It's hard not to whine when I should be out on Reconquista (BA's St. Patty's street party), not cooped up inside my apartment trying to decide if my stomach can handle plain white rice. I'm missing out on tacky green clothing, face paint shamrocks, green Guinness and lime jello shots... Woe is me. My only comfort is that I was actually here on St. Patrick's day last year, so I have already experienced the Reconquista/Kilkenny madness firsthand.
But it still sucks bigtime, and I feel horrible, and have to deal with rescheduling all my classes which is a nightmare given the 3 national holidays in the next week...
And I'm done. Sorry about the complaining. It's easy to be an optimistic independent expat most of the time, and then you have the stomach flu and are suddenly about 5 years old and really want to not have to deal with things in a foreign language and just to lie in bed and have your mom bring you flat ginger ale and gatorade and homemade chicken noodle soup. Because honestly, chicken noodle soup isn't really the same if you make it for yourself.

Hot tranny mess

2008-03-13T01:20:00.007-02:00

This is one of the most amazing things I have seen recently. Or ever. It's SNL's parody of Project Runway winner Christian Siriano. Who we looove. You might not fully understand the awesomeness if you don't watch Project Runway, but then, if you don't watch Project Runway you may want to reconsider your priorities in life. Runway is pretty much one of the greatest contributions to pop culture since Full House. So go on, tranny ferocia, watch it.

The good, the bad, & the cheto cheto cheto

2008-03-09T23:21:00.004-02:00

Cheto means "snobby" in Argie slang. Which brings me to restaurant review number one. (The Buenos Diaries is moonlighting as a food blog for this post.) Anyway, on Saturday I was feeling a little homesick and went in search of cafe comfort food. I had heard a lot about Mark's Deli in Palermo - like that there were real sandwiches, even brownies and lemonade! I was sold. Well... it was... okay. I actually feel uncomfortable even writing that but I don't want to criticize Mark's too harshly. Bottom line - the food may pass for upscale and interesting in Buenos Aires but it was pretty much just your basic "trendy cafe" fare - sandwiches on olive bread with smoked salmon or goat cheese or roasted red peppers, etc. The coffee was very good, and the pastries looked good. But it was simply not buena onda. I should know by now what I'm getting myself into when I go into that part of Palermo, but as I was sitting in Mark's I couldn't help thinking two things. First, if I wanted to live in Brentwood, I wouldn't have left LA. And two, am I on the set of The L-Word? Basically, it was just ridiculously trendy and not in an effortless way, either. The customers all rocked the same deliberate bedhead and this month's issue of Vogue makeup (bright lips, bare eyes) and variations on the same outfit. It was very see and be seen. I guess I still haven't learned that what is casual comfort food at home is sometimes sold as very hip and modern here. And the waiters were pretty but rude. I actually had quite a nice time at Mark's, but mainly because Jamie & I were able to make fun of the cheto-ness and focus on planning our next great adventures (to Colombia and Israel. Possibly living on the beach in Costa Rica.)
When dinnertime rolled around I was very ready for some down and dirty street food. Actually, I literally googled "dirty street parrilla buenos aires" and it came up with La ro salía, the one in Palermo, not San Telmo. First things first, go there. Just go. You will not regret it. It was awesome for several reasons. The grill faces the street (always a good sign), it was packed with locals, the waitress was exceptionally friendly, and it was very no-frills. Restaurants are always better when the focus is on the food, no? We tried to order a few things before coming up with something on the menu that was actually available. It was morcilla sandwiches (slathered with chimichurri) and mollejas. And they were AMAZING. All in all, with a bottle of wine thrown in, the bill came to 30 pesos (for 2 people.) Not bad.

Get Lost

2008-03-07T17:42:00.004-02:00

No, not Lost the tv show that everyone in Argentina is hopelessly addicted to (though a distant second to the obsession inspired by Los Simpson.) But the club Lost, otherwise known as Club Araoz, which on Thursdays becomes the only big club in BA to play real hip hop. Towards the end of the night it becomes somewhat watered-down and by 5 am is almost completely reggaeton, but by then you've gotten in a few solid hours of shaking your booty to some good old-fashioned USA hip hop. There's also a sort of pickup breakdancing show around 1 am. Anyway, it's cool, highly recommended, for those of us who don't love or are burnt out on dancing to electronica and cumbia. The sketchy guy ratio at Lost is very high, and the dancing is real down & dirty (think of Middle School dances) but there was muy buena onda and we were so, so happy to finally get down, and recognize every song that was played. For me, Lost is like the comfort food of BA clubs because it's so much like being at home. If you ever wanna pretend you're in East Oakland instead of BA, or if you miss sagged jeans, do-rags, bling, and gang signs, hit up Lost.
Downside: I washed my hair twice today and it still smells like cigarettes.

An Open Letter to the Language Institutes of Buenos Aires

2008-03-04T20:02:00.006-02:00

Dear Language Institutes of Buenos Aires & the fine personnel you employ,

I have some minor grievances. Surely we can talk in a mutually respectful, civilized way. Oh but wait, we can't, because you are all SKANKY, LYING BITCHES.

Okay, sorry, I got ahead of myself. Let's break this down. I have a few suggestions (outlined below.)

1) Try not to act like a bunch of crazy ho bags. You know, whenever possible.
Like when I go to drop my timesheet off and you totally yell at me for taking on classes and then abruptly abandoning them. And then I tell you that I never did that and you giggle and say, "Oops! Now that I think of it, you're right. I was thinking of someone else."

2) Don't lie ALL THE TIME. Especially when I can prove that you are lying.
So, the internet, it's pretty cool. You can actually tell when someone has emailed you, and check to see what the email was about. Definitively. For any period of time after the email was sent. So don't tell me you emailed me when you actually didn't and then claim to have "lost the email."

3) Pay us more.
You get 40 pesos an hour for our time; we get 20 pesos (or less.) I know you provide a lot of valuable support, but - Oh wait, you don't provide any support at all. Not even free photocopies. I may not be the world's best English teacher but I'm reasonably sure that I do more than 50% of the work when I teach a class.

4) Don't write emails when you're drunk.
Like the email my roommate got last night asking if she wanted to switch her class on Mondays and Thursdays to Mondays and Thursdays.

5) Don't punish me for other people's mistakes.
I know, English teachers in foreign countries have a reputation for being, oh, slightly flakey at times. I'm sure it happens, and I understand you like to be cautious. But enough is enough. I've never missed a class, not returned a phonecall, or left on a one-way flight back to North America without telling you. Yell at me if I screw up, but not before.

I'd like to point out at this time that there are some good institutes out there. Well, one that I know of. Where it's small, friendly, organized, professional, and sometimes there's ice cream from Freddo. The pay is the same, but it's a lovely place to work, and they actually line up classes so I don't spend 3+ hours a day on colectivos and the subte.

See? It's not actually required that you make our lives difficult.

I'm not asking to be your best friend, Language Institutes of BA, I'd just like a certain minimum standard of organization and professionalism.

Until that happens, thanks for all the amusing stories and anecdotes to share over a drink with other English teachers.

Yours faithfully,
Sarah

P.S. If any aspiring English teachers stumble upon this and want to know what institutes they should avoid like the plague, feel free to get in touch.

Heavens to Betsy!

2008-03-02T14:49:00.005-02:00

Oh my goodness, boys and girls, it's finally happened. After nearly 5 months in Buenos Aires, I've reached that illusive and yet not-quite-desirable landmark in the life of someone living in a foreign country: when you begin to accidentally run into people you don't want to see. Last night it was appropriately nicknamed Bad Hookup Guy, at an undisclosed location in Palermo Hollywood. His friend was cute, but as la otra Sarah pointed out, he is still Bad Hookup Friend. Anyway, he was nice, I was nice, it was fine. Let it be said that he is actually quite a nice, easy-going guy, and not the "call you 18 times in one half hour" variety of porteño, either. (Oh, you say that doesn't really happen, but believe me, it does.)
Does this mean I'm putting down raíces and becoming a real resident of the city (despite my official visa category being "transitory/temporary")? Or could it be a sign that it's time for me to pack my bags and go?

Nuttier than a fruitcake

2008-02-28T23:10:00.005-02:00

Hey porteños - could you please stop making me feel like a raving lunatic when I tell you that I chose to live in Argentina for the simple reason that I like it here?
Let me backtrack a little. I've had so, so many versions of this interaction:
Argentine: So you're on vacation here? Or you're studying?
Me: No, actually, living and working.
Argentine: Oh, I see, you fell in love with an Argentine and came here to be with him.
Me: No... well, not yet anyway...
Argentine: Why then?
Me: Because... I like it here?
Argentine: Why?
Me: Um... the city, the people, the culture, the language, the nightlife, I always wanted to live abroad, I don't know...
Argentine: Out of all the countries in the world you chose Argentina? Are you CRAZY?
(Actually, I'm really not making that last line up. It's word for word from a conversation I had with a student of mine.)
Okay, I know Argentina has problems, that become more and more apparent the longer I stay and the more I see. But doesn't every country? (Especially the good old US of A?)
And where is the stereotypical Argentine arrogance that you always hear about? Is it really sooo crazy that someone would want to live here just for the sake of living here? Dale, porteños, stop looking at me like I lost my marbles. I just like it here.

And here's something else I like, a quote from Welcome to the World, Baby Girl by Fannie Flagg:

"Poor little old human beings- they're jerked into this world without having any idea where they came from or what it is they are supposed to do, or how long they have to do it in. Or where they are gonna wind up after that. But bless their hearts, most of them wake up every morning and keep on trying to make some sense out of it. Why, you can't help but love them, can you? I just wonder why more of them aren't as crazy as betsy bugs..."

Politics Shmolitics

2008-02-26T21:05:00.003-02:00

Can you totally hear the duran duran when you look at this photo? Yes, it's adorable Barack Obama and his high school basketball team. Although, he's way not as cute as John Edwards. Le sigh.
But I digress. I just read one of the most heinous & silly articles ever - Obama: First Female President? by Martin Linsky, who apparently is a faculty member at Harvard. Which just went down a few points in my opinion.
What does Mr. Linsky say?
That Hillary is acting the masculine role because she portrays herself as an "experienced realist," while Barack is not afraid to show the (feminine?) characteristics of optimism, being unsure of himself and admitting his mistakes, and wanting to talk about problems.
Whatever, read the article, see what you think. But let me say that I am a women's studies major, and we don't like people who obviously know nothing about gender trying to gloss over such a complicated topic.
A quick google search found that cutie pie John Edwards was also called The First Woman President in the NY Sun. Because he cares about freedom of choice.
I guess it's a cute tagline for these scholars & journalists, but seriously? It's ignorant and offensive in sooo many ways.

So, blah blah blah, enough politics.

Still bored & looking for an online timesuck? Read this, oh and in case you were wondering, I'm a Hillary girl. And not just cuz we have the same birthday.

The other city that never sleeps

2008-02-17T19:32:00.008-02:00

What a nice BA weekend.

Kicked off el finde on Friday with a night of bar-hopping in Palermo Hollywood... first Unico (Honduras y Fitz Roy) and then Congo (Honduras 5329, right next door to Kika.) Unico was quite nice, a big crowd on the sidewalk outside sipping their drinks, which are reasonably priced for that part of Palermo. Very friendly bartenders (hey! high five!) and despite the chaotic and packed bar, we got our sugary caipirinhas in under 5 minutes. Congo was fun as well but there was a (big) cover to get in, something I never approve of in bars, and some very aggressive mosquitos and men on the leafy back patio. So, we didn't do too much hopping actually, just two bars, and then came home for some highly intellectual and experimental cooking efforts, trying to create suitable drunk munchies from the contents of our overly healthy kitchen. Too many vegetables. Not enough cheese. But it worked out.

Last night I went to a party thrown by César and the kids at Argentina's Travel Guide. It was at a lovely house in Martinez and included all the elements of a good party - gorgeous Argentines, rowdy Yanquis, choripán, champagne, fernet with coke, and jumping into a swimming pool fully clothed. Well, maybe not fully clothed.

Sunday was soaking up the sun and browsing overpriced jewelry & crafts in Recoleta and then the latest episode of Project Runway on youtube.

Tomorrow it'll be back to business English (customer service: let's read this article on outsourcing) and TOEFL/IELTS prep, including some practice listening sections which I'm pretty sure are designed to drive the teacher absolutely crazy ("Paul, are you taking Intermediate French?" "No, Mary, I'm taking Intermediate Spanish." "Really? Intermediate Spanish, not Intermediate French?" "Yes, I'm not taking Intermediate French, I'm taking Intermediate Spanish.")

Hot. Can't wait for next weekend.

¡Feliz dia de los enamorados!

2008-02-14T23:14:00.002-02:00

Happy V day, everyone! To steal a line from Carrie Bradshaw, the city is my date this Valentine's. And it's just lovely.

Money Money Money

2008-02-12T22:07:00.000-02:00

First, go to Los Alfajores' Myspace and listen to Money is Stupid while you're reading this.
Second, if you're reading this from Argentina, you already know all about it and probably don't want to be reminded.*

For everyone else - all of a sudden it seems like all I talk/think/worry about is money. It's really damn expensive to live in Buenos Aires, especially when you are paying rent prices designed (with love from our landlords) especially for us foreigners. Who in theory have loads of dollars/euros/pounds in the bank. Well, not those of us who teach English. Anyway...

The point is, I'm so sick of talking and thinking about money all the time, but it keeps coming up. Today I had a break between classes and went to go lie on the grass in lovely Plaza San Martín in Retiro. I decided to buy a magazine on the way. Well, I ended up buying Vogue Latinoamérica, but not because I was being good and trying to practice my Spanish reading skills. I bought it because English Vogue was... drumroll please... 69 pesos (over $20 USD.) (The Vogue I bought was 10 pesos.) Well, some economists may measure how the economy is going based on staples like milk, bread, and eggs, but I'm judging based on Vogue. When I was here in March of last year, I bought Vogue in English for 15 pesos. Which brings us to...

Inflation.
The government says the inflation rate is something like 8 to 10%. My highly scientific research that is based on actually living in Buenos Aires and functioning as a person here, buying groceries, etc., tells me that this official inflation rate is total bullshit. The actual inflation rate is supposedly closer to 20%.

In certain parts of Buenos Aires, the parts that are all most tourists ever see, it's easy to forget where you are. With the stylish, cultured, well-educated people, European architecture and avenues, overt leisure (people sitting in cafes all day, rush hour around 10 am in the morning), etc., etc., you forget about the recent and not-so-recent history of instability and lack of stable economic infrastructure, the sense that crises are always just around the corner. But as my students remind me all the time, this is Argentina. There's still a lot of fallout from the 2001 crash and the horrible damage that Menem did to the country.

I don't know that much about it so I'll shut up at this point, but it's enough to say that I am having a hard time keeping my head above water financially. It's not like my life is about to turn into a Dorothea Lange photo shoot, but it's not easy. And if it's hard for me, with this being my cute little 'escaping the USA idealistic twenty-something expat' social experiment, having lived here for all of 5 months, what must it be like for the real residents of the city?

*The picture on the left was not taken by me - I don't have that much money! It also isn't the current Argentine currency.

¿Estás aburrido?

2008-02-08T19:08:00.000-02:00

My new favorite thing to read online is New York Magazine's fashion blog The Cut, especially the girls who write 'New York Fugging City.' Classier than Perez, more cheerful than BBC news, it's the perfect way to kill time between classes or while waiting for it to be late enough to go out by Argie coolness standards.

*An interest in fashion/celebrities/new york/cattiness is recommended to enjoy this blog.

**Picture to the right - Carolina Herrera show

What a Super Tuesday

2008-02-05T11:05:00.000-02:00

Voting makes you sexy, so go vote in the California Primary biotches! It's important! It's also Mardi Gras and almost Chinese New Year so go vote and then celebrate with beer and chinese food.

Besos a todos!

Exhaustion/ Estoy loca?

2008-02-01T11:40:00.000-02:00

I got into a really interesting conversation with one of my students last night. She was saying that she's always confused by the young people from the United States she meets living in Buenos Aires - we always say we came here because we love the country, the culture, we wanted to live abroad, go to new places and see new things, etc. She said it's perplexing to her for two reasons, first because in Argentina it is very rare for people to go so far from their families and friends on a whim, and second, because while a lot of Argentines are interested in going to Western Europe or the United States, they mostly want to go for work. Sure, an interest in the culture and being adventurous comes into it, but it isn't usually their only motivation. She also brought up the economics of it - while people from Argentina may leave the country to make more money, we inevitably come to Argentina to make less money (if you come to teach English.) Much, much less.
This was the first week I had a full schedule (20 hours of teaching.) That doesn't sound like a lot but it is seriously exhausting. Like, too tired to do anything but crawl into bed at the end of the day exhausting. Because for every hour of class you also have prep time and commute time, so it ends up being a full day from about 10 am to 8 or 9 pm. The time spent with students is, of course, the best. But it's an exhausting job. It's not a spacing out in front of your computer type of job - you have to be engaging and energetic with your students and you're constantly thinking - what's the difference between during and while? Why do we say it that way? That's wrong, but why is it wrong? And unlike 9 to 5 jobs at home, you don't get paid for every hour you work.
So am I totally crazy? Making myself really, legitimately poor for the first time in my life? To live as far as possible from everything that's familiar?
Well. Looking at numbers it doesn't make sense to be here, but I've always hated math.
So for now, I'll keep being one of the crazy young idealistic Yanquis who comes here because of esoteric ideas about seeing the world and an even stronger fear of the restlessness and eventual settling that comes with staying at home.

And let me tell you, it's all worth it for one of my students who wrote an entire essay using the word "younglings" in place of the word "youth."

Chinatown, BA Style

2008-01-27T00:59:00.000-02:00

Picture to the left: whole fresh sushi rolls for 5 to 10 pesos each. Of course we bought some for lunch tomorrow!

Buenos Aires Chinatown is fantastic. It should really be called Asiatown because there are a mix of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean stores and restaurants. It's not at all like Chinatown in San Francisco or New York - much smaller, quieter, and residential, in a really nice way. Lots of trees, cobblestone streets and elegant, old-fashioned buildings. But more important than any of that is the food. The restaurants, yes, sushi, wonton soup, miso, cha siu bao, etc etc. But the real variety is in the grocery stores where you can find tofu, whole wheat alfajores, a million different spices, genmaicha tea, Skippy peanut butter and even Newman's Own light italian salad dressing! I realize that if you're reading this from the United States none of that sounds too exciting. BUT IT IS.

The same amazing kitsch you would find in SF Chinatown. We bought paper lanterns and a hideously scary dragonfly plant ornament to act as a scarecrow for the pigeons that congregate on our balcony, but drew the line at a huge golden piggy bank (we wanted it but 35 pesos was just too much.)

Newman's Own! 23 pesos for a jar of marinara sauce, that's reasonable...

Chalk and cheese?

2008-01-22T21:03:00.000-02:00

Aeroplane? Realise? Colour? Pleasure craft? Talk round? Spelt??

Uhhh what the #$%@?!?!

So I have a new student, Rafael, who is (sidebar) fantastically smart and funny especially considering he is only 18 years old. I am preparing him to take the IELTS (like the TOEFL, but for British universities) so he can apply to colleges in England.

In class on Monday, I was looking through an IELTS practice book while Rafael did a reading exercise, and I noticed a somewhat disturbing trend. I couldn't answer half the questions in the book correctly.

For example: Complete the following sentence with the correct phrase.

John and Mary are complete opposites; they're like _______________

a) cats and dogs
b) chalk and cheese
c) salt and pepper

Umm... cats and dogs maybe? Not that I've ever heard/said anything like that. I checked the answer in the back of the book and it was b) chalk and cheese

Another example asked for a phrasal verb that means to convince. Talk into? Nope. Talk round.

Another activity asked the students to identify words that were spelt incorrectly. Yes, spelt. Hmm, I thought, they must be really getting into the activity if they are misspelling the instructions as well.

Well, duh. The whole book and the whole test in fact are in British English, the Queen's English, something that before you become an English teacher you think means a small handful of different words and expressions...

But once you start teaching English you realize it's like a different language. One that you are expected to teach as though you speak it fluently. This poor kid is stuck with me prepping him for the IELTS and I'm giggling at the word "pleasure craft" in a listening exercise.

C'est la vie. Thank God for the answer book. And cheers to England, even though I don't speak their crazy language, it's a lovely country with many fine things to offer the world.

UPDATE: Rafael & I were both very relieved to find out today that students are not penalized (or penalised, in British) for American spelling of words on the IELTS. He also thought chalk and cheese was a pretty silly expression.

Cortázar anyone?

2008-01-20T15:21:00.000-02:00

The Buenos Diaries goes literary!

Sorry for the lack of real posts lately, I've been pretty busy, but it's always good to learn about writers and culture and stuff, right?

Here's one of my favorite pieces of writing ever, by Julio Cortázar.

(English translation below)

Instrucciones para llorar.
Dejando de lado los motivos, atengámonos a la manera correcta de llorar, entendiendo por esto un llanto que no ingrese en el escándalo, ni que insulte a la sonrisa con su paralela y torpe semejanza. El llanto medio u ordinario consiste en una contracción general del rostro y un sonido espasmódico acompañado de lágrimas y mocos, estos últimos al final, pues el llanto se acaba en el momento en que uno se suena enérgicamente. Para llorar, dirija la imaginación hacia usted mismo, y si esto le resulta imposible por haber contraído el hábito de creer en el mundo exterior, piense en un pato cubierto de hormigas o en esos golfos del estrecho de Magallanes en los que no entra nadie, nunca. Llegado el llanto, se tapará con decoro el rostro usando ambas manos con la palma hacia adentro. Los niños llorarán con la manga del saco contra la cara, y de preferencia en un rincón del cuarto. Duración media del llanto, tres minutos.

Instructions on how to cry.
Putting the reasons for crying aside for the moment, we might concentrate on the correct way to cry, which, be it understood, means a weeping that doesn’t turn into a big commotion nor proves an affront to the smile with its parallel and dull similarity. The average, everyday weeping consists of a general contraction of the face and a spasmodic sound accompanied by tears and mucus, this last toward the end, since the cry ends at the point when one energetically blows one’s nose.
In order to cry, steer the imagination toward yourself, and if this proves impossible owing to having contacted the habit of believing in the exterior world, think of a duck covered with ants or of those gulfs in the Strait of Magellan into which no one sails ever.
Coming to the weeping itself, cover the face decorously, using both hands, palms inward. Children are to cry with the sleeve of the dress or shirt pressed against the face, preferably in a corner of the room. Average duration of the cry, three minutes.

“Anyone who doesn’t read Cortazar is doomed. Not to read him is a serious invisible disease which in time can have terrible consequences. Something similar to a man who has never tasted peaches. He would quietly become sadder… and, probably, little by little, he would lose his hair.”
-Pablo Neruda

Juno

2008-01-15T23:33:00.000-02:00

Go see it! It's quirky and sweet and written by the amazing Diablo Cody. That's all for now!

P.S. If you're reading this outside the U.S., check out www.alluc.org for Juno & other American movies and TV shows that haven't been released internationally yet. They even have Project Runway!!

You're Hired!

2008-01-08T18:25:00.000-02:00

What??? I just sent out my resume this morning and I already have a class to teach and 6 more job interviews in the next 48 hours. Anyone who says it's hard to find work as an English teacher in BA obviously doesn't have the good folks at EBC Madrid behind them. Within hours my email & voicemail were filled with requests for interviews - interviews that, as I learned today, are more like friendly, casual conversations that inevitably end with a job offer. My first job? Teaching English to an exec at Clarín, Argentina's largest newspaper.
Looking for jobs at home is an excruciating process of obsessive craigslisting, answering bullshit questions such as "what is your greatest strength, and what is your greatest weakness?" in job interviews, waiting and waiting for months, lowering your expectations, and secretly looking at job ads for exotic dancers.
And I'm sure that if you are Argentine, finding a job in Argentina is just as hard as for an estadounidense to find a job in the United States.
But, for an English teacher in BA, it's pretty simple - yeah, a college degree and some work experience are helpful, but your main qualification is being able to speak your own language. And of course, the TEFL certification... A degree that actually helps you get a job? That in fact, leads directly to a specific career path? I'm sorry, I majored in the Social Sciences, you'll have to explain that concept to me.
My point is, it's a very unfamiliar experience to actually turn down offers of job interviews, to breathe a sigh of relief when there are no new emails from institutes in my gmail inbox.
Not that teaching English is so glamorous - hours spent sweating it out in colectivos on the way to jobs in every corner of the city, hours of prep time and studying the mess that is English grammar, horrible pay, with no hope of a work visa...

But who am I to complain? I have a job!!! I'm going out to celebrate.

Sunday/ Domingo/ Vasánap

2008-01-06T20:48:00.000-02:00

Back home in Yanquilandia, I never felt like Sunday was anything special. It was a day to sleep late, hang out at home, get ready for the coming week, do laundry, homework, or whatever, get over your hangover from the night before, and dread getting up for work on Monday.
Not so in Buenos Aires. Porteños take their day of rest seriously. Most shops are closed and good luck finding an ATM that has any money left in it. The streets are finally quiet and (relatively) empty. Sunday in Buenos Aires in the summer is a day to be spent outside, sipping mate in a plaza, going on a picnic in the park, making out with your novio/a, playing fútbol, working on your tan like it's a job. Above all though, it's a day for family.
So what is an expat to do? Well, there are some very nice street fairs - San Telmo, Recoleta, and especially Mataderos (folk-dancing, helado artesanal, very few tourists, Northern Argentine food...)
But this Sunday I tried something new and went to the Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur in Puerto Madero. It's basically a long boardwalk, lots of sunny, grassy areas, a little crafts fair, some random carnival rides for kids, and a huge nature reserve/ bird sanctuary. For a nature reserve, yeah, it's not spectacularly pretty. But it's a lovely scene anyway, lots and lots of families, little kids running around, dogs, a parrilla stand every 10 feet and ice cream vendors on bikes.
Sophy and I made it our mission to try as much food as possible and between us ate a choripan (chorizo on bread), a homemade alfajor, and a bondiola (a sandwich made with grilled pork), all delicious and very fresh. I could tell you other nice things about Costanera Sur but really, aren't the 700 parrillas enough reason to go?

Best Year Ever

2007-12-30T17:24:00.000-02:00

First, the Buenos Diaries got a makeover!! I thought with all the changes - a new year and that my partner in crime & fellow blogwriter Will has gone back to the USA - the blog needed a new look.

Second, before we get to all the Happy New Year stuff, I want to have a moment of appreciation for 2007, which was, for me, the best year yet.

3 countries, 5 apartments, 12 plane flights, 1 broken heart fixed, 1 longtime dream (becoming an expat) coming true. Countless amazing people met, beautiful places seen, crazy and fantastic nights out. So cheers to 2007, I can't believe everything that happened in this one single year. Cheers to love and romance and drama, good friends, good food, living life to the fullest and laughing so hard you cry. Maybe 2008 will be even better...

¡Feliz Año Nuevo!

Burritos in BA!?!

2007-12-26T19:35:00.000-03:00

Yes, burritos exist in Buenos Aires. I had heard tell of a Californian-owned burrito restaurant here but never actually tried it until today, when Mark, Sophy and I traipsed over to CBC (California Burrito Company) at Lavalle 441. CBC is a blatant Chipotle/Rubio's knockoff, right down to the vintage style posters of famous California locations like the Santa Monica Pier on the walls. But that's not a bad thing, because after months of living without legit Mexican food these burritos were incredible. Fresh ingredients, lots of choices (black beans!!), real salsa, real guacamole, real tortillas and real tortilla chips. The burritos even came in aluminum foil like at home and there were real paper napkins on the table as opposed to the little sheets of wax paper that pass for napkins at many BA restaurants. CBC is as good as Mexican food is gonna get in BA.

There are a couple downsides, the first being that people from California, where we eat real Mexican food on an almost daily basis, will get nostalgic for that real Mexican food. At home I don't eat at Chipotle or Rubio's because there are a lot of other, better, more authentic options right around the corner (Gordo's! Cactus! Picante!) But c'est la vie, this is Argentina and you have to take what you can get when it comes to Mexican food. (Pssst for those of you who were thinking that the food in Argentina would bear some resemblance to Mexican or Central American food, think again. Spices are not really a big thing here. Neither are rice and beans.)

The other downside to CBC is its location, in the center of Lavalle, near Calle Florida. This is my absolute least favorite part of BA and I totally don't understand why it's recommended as a tourist draw in guidebooks. It's loud, crowded, dirty, ugly, and touristy, and after 10 minutes on Calle Florida I'm wiping the grime and smog from my skin and looking for the closest Subte stop or colectivo that will take me back to Palermo.

However, a big CBC burrito with black beans, guacamole, three kinds of salsa, lomo or cerdo, all wrapped up in a flour tortilla, is worth braving the crowds on Lavalle and Florida. And once inside, you can easily forget about the city and pretend you're back at home for half an hour.
Oh and pssst, does this remind anyone else of that rhyme we learned in 7th grade Spanish class that went "A, E, I, O, U, El burro sabe más que tú..."

¡Felices Fiestas!

2007-12-25T18:14:00.000-03:00

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year to Everyone! Christmas in Argentina isn't exactly like Christmas at home, in place of snow and carolers there are huge parties that last from the night of Christmas Eve through till Christmas morning, cumbia and reggaeton blasting all night long and millions of fireworks, firecrackers, and little floating lanterns made from putting candles in brown paper bags that people throw off the rooftops of their apartment buildings. The view from my apt. balcony of fireworks exploding all over the city was beautiful!! So much love and best wishes to everyone, and don't be too jealous of the sunshine and incessant partying down here, a lot of us expats are missing the snow!

Besos!

Pieces of People I love

2007-12-21T21:52:00.000-03:00

Well well well... I'm somewhat sorry to be writing this, but I am officially back home. I returned yesterday morning and even slept in my large comfortable bed last night. But, as always, it is an interesting feeling to come home to a place you know so well.

Although I only spent 10 weeks in Argentina--not long enough to be considered an expat--I did have a crazy good time, and even what I am considering a life changing experience. I've traveled before. I've even lived in Barcelona, Spain and Lund, Sweden for periods during my college years. But Buenos Aires has been something different.

As I write this entry, I'm listening to the fabulous argentine-pop duo sensation, Los Alfajores and drinking mate. In 10 short weeks, I picked up a few things that I think will stick with me for a long time.

In the 24 hours that Ive been back, Ive noticed so many differences from my life in Buenos Aires.

For example, plastic shopping bags aren't used for the trash here. In fact, they don't have much use, although we all still save them. I guess I use them for picking up my dogs' shit. But the quantity of trash we produce here seems to be so much greater, that a small shopping bag isn't big enough.

Its hard not to notice how much we drive here in the United States. I hadnt driven (minus the Corsa in Patagonia) at all during my stay in Argentina. In fact I hadnt hardly been in a car that wasnt a taxi.

When I greet men, i dont have to go through the awkward, Do we kiss or not? feeling, for better or for worse.

Im back to spending dollars, not pesos. But I find myself converting prices into pesos, and being like "holy shit, did i really just spend $25 pesos on lunch?" What choice do I have?

But after living and breathing the expat life, i sorely miss my expat-compatriots. Without trying, they infected me with the DIY (do it yourself) attitude, and Im taking advantage of this renewed inspiration. Im working on a zine/scrapbook from my life/experiences in Buenos Aires, to be released soon.

And without a blink of an eye, my life is back to where it was before I left. The only thing that's changed is me. And that's enough to make it all worth while, even if I spent all the money I had saved up in the process.

I miss Los Alfajores, mindful media, Julia, Mike, Marina, Sarah, hamchunks, the apt on Paraguay y Salguero, Once, Carolina (most amazing find!), Gordo, Juan, the feria de entrecasa, Fratello! and empanadas. And no Mike, hot-pockets are not the same. Dont come home, Sarah. I need a place to stay when I return. And by the way, it's really cold here.

Peace, love, and happiness.

Miniature Disasters...

2007-12-20T20:51:00.000-03:00

is the name of a song by KT Tunstall and also sort of a perfect way to describe the day I had today. Obviously this blog is usually filled with lots of Argentina and Buenos Aires love, but today... Well, there are some times I don't love EVERYTHING about living here. Like for example when I have to pay a $300 peso (that's $100 USD) customs tax on a package of Christmas presents that someone sent to me from the states. Or when everything in the apartment is broken or in the process of breaking and the landlady won't do anything about it. Yeah, tenant's rights? Not so much here. Not when you're living illegally on a tourist visa and can't get a garantía to save your life.
Or when you try to pay for something that costs, say, $8.50 pesos with a $10 peso note and the guy at the Kiosco/ Chinese supermarket STILL doesn't have the correct change for you, so he gives you a piece of candy instead. Not that I blame him on that one - we're all hoarding our monedas like crazy.
I know, annoying little things happen no matter where you live, it's just easier to resolve them in your own language and culture.
But, I usually try to be optimistic and look on the bright side of things, and in that spirit, there is one thing we have here in Argentina that makes up for some of these ridiculously annoying situations, and that is the best word ever to describe them - quilombo.
Originally it meant brothel but now it just means "a mess" and can be used to describe almost any ridiculous, annoying, complicated, or frustrating situation. ¡Qué quilombo! I got a lot of use out of that word today.
Anyway, the moral of the story is, DON'T ask your friends or relatives to send you things in Argentina. In fact, don't let them, because you will have to pay whatever obscenely high customs tax the Argentine officials deem is appropriate for your country of origin. I can just imagine them sitting around, Che, this girl is from the United States, should we charge $500 pesos? No no, the dollar's falling, there's no way she can pay that much. Better make it $300.

What a quilombo.

La Esquina de las Flores

2007-12-12T21:21:00.000-03:00

Sorry we haven't been writing much lately - Will is in Peru and will soon be returning home to the United States, and I'm finishing up my last few days of TEFL madness.
One of the perks of my TEFL course is its location, just a few blocks from a very nice vegetarian restaurant called La Esquina de las Flores. My diet of jamón, pizza, and cocktails was starting to wear on me, and while I'm not usually that into vegetarian/ vegan restaurants at home, I decided to give Esquina de las Flores a try.
It's a combination health food store/ cafeteria-style restaurant on the first floor and if you head up the turquoise stairs, you'll find a sit-down restaurant. It's a couple more pesos to eat upstairs but there are a lot more options and the seating is less crowded. They have whole wheat pasta, pizza, and empanadas, huge salads, and various casseroles and other dishes made with lentils, quinoa, red beans, etc. The pumpkin & soy cheese ravioli is amazing. And, it's not vegan, so you can get dishes with real cheese. (This is an Argentine restaurant after all, there has to be some kind of cow product on the menu.)
I didn't think this kind of food existed in Argentina but it does, and it's soooo good. You can also eat there even if you are relatively broke, like me. It'll be $10 to $15 pesos for a meal with a side salad and a drink.
Y fijate, this is the Esquina de las Flores at Córdoba 1587 (in Tribunales), not the one on Gurruchaga in Palermo. I've heard bad things about that one, but the one on Córdoba is fantastic if you're craving fresh veggies & healthy versions of all your favorite Argie foods.
Vegetarian food still not your thing? Then go there for the cute waiters.
¡Buen provecho!

Buying a fan in BA

2007-12-05T19:27:00.000-03:00

Well, first of all, let me say that laid back customer service is one thing I really like about Buenos Aires. A lot. Especially in restaurants and clothing stores. I am not one of those Yanquis who has a hard time adjusting to the slow pace here - I love it. I feel like at home we all run around with this frantic sense of deadlines and impending doom and anxiety over what will happen if we don't get our soy latte RIGHT NOW. But here in Argentina (and much more outside of the capital) you are forced to mellow out, relax, walk slowly, eat slowly, take life as it comes.

That said, as far as customer service goes, Buenos Aires has really cornered the market on excessive employees in stores and restaurants. It's not uncommon to see 8 people clustered behind the counter in a small café with maybe five tables. It will still take 45 minutes for you to get your café con leche.

For example, yesterday my fantastic new roommate Sophy and I went on a mission to buy fans for the apartment. Spring is turning into Summer here in Buenos Aires, and we have three sweaty months of excruciating heat in front of us. We went to a nearby electronics store called Frávega. There were so many salesman it was hard to walk around the store, but eventually we decided on two floor fans ($89 pesos each, or less than $30 dollars.) I told the salesman who had been helping us that we wanted to get the fans. Because we were paying with credit cards, he needed to enter all the information from our Driver's Licenses into the computer and print out several forms, which we took to a different counter, where we paid for the fans and received more paperwork. We took the second paperwork to another counter where someone else (three people actually) were in charge of retrieving the fans from the back storage room. The illusive fans were brought out and another employee opened the boxes, I guess for us to inspect them. An older Argentine lady next to us seemed to be inspecting the fan she was buying quite carefully, but Sophy and I just wanted to get on with it at that point. Then we had to sign two more pieces of paper to prove we had received the fans. Finally, the fans were bagged up and we could leave. I think it was less work when I bought my first car.

It was an experience, and now I have a fan in my bedroom, which I'm pretty sure is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Boy Meets Girl

2007-12-01T21:15:00.000-03:00

Has it ever been easy? Dating, relationships, sex, love, broken hearts - it's really difficult. Romantic and exciting and worth all the pain, yes, but so difficult. And if it's hard in your own country, where you speak the language fluently, understand the culture intimately and are well-schooled in the intricacies of social interactions between men and women... Try figuring it out in another country. For example, Argentina. The way men and women interact here could fill many, many books. Luckily, I haven't had any broken hearts yet, but I have had a few interactions that left me scratching my head. Por ejemplo:

Exhibit A:
Last time I was in Argentina, I met a guy. We'll call him A. We hit it off, hung out a few times, and then I had to leave. I told him I would probably be moving back, and we kept in touch for the 6 months I was working at home in California. When I got back, he seemed pretty excited to see me. We met up and had a great time together. The next week, I got a flood of enthusiastic "Tengo muchas ganas de verte" and "I only want you" very Argie type text messages. Then, nothing. I still haven't seen him again. Mysterious, no?

Exhibit B:
On Wednesday, I went out to a bar with friends. I met a guy and we chatted for about twenty minutes. We exchanged numbers. Later that night, he called and asked when he could see me again. I told him I was really busy but maybe on the weekend. The next day, on Thursday, I received no less than 8 missed calls within 3 hours, and 4 (increasingly desperate) text messages.
Yeah. What?? Was he being psycho or just being Porteño?
He violated two major taboos in United States dating & social codes. First, the Three Day Rule (a guy should always call a girl three days after they met/ had their first date. Earlier is creepy. Later is rude.) Second, the No Double Contacting Rule. This rule dictates that you should never contact someone you are beginning to date twice in a row without hearing back from them first. Maybe a text message and one missed call are okay, but you don't want your potential new boyfriend to check his phone and see 7 missed calls from you.

I guess it all goes back to that we are trying play hard to get and to give the impression that we are too busy living our cool, interesting lives to be worried about someone we just met. It's a weird social custom, isn't it? Why not just be upfront about how you feel?

But, así es la vida...

Another thing I don't understand: everyone you talk to here says the people cheat all the time and it's very common for both the man and the woman in a relationship to have other people on the side. Yet when I was teaching my English class the second conditional this past week, and my class had to complete the sentence "If I found my girlfriend/boyfriend cheating on me, I would..." Almost all of them said "I would kill him/her."

I wonder how long I'll be living here before I begin to understand how Boy Meets Girl works in Argentina, or if I ever will... Pero por lo menos, la vida nunca será aburrida!

Get your rocks off

2007-11-29T16:52:00.000-03:00

Any musicians out there interested in setting up a recording session need not look further. In Buenos Aires there seems to be a monton de Salas de Ensayos (recording studios). I jammed with a bunch of friends the other night in Belgrano. Someone just called in a request to reserve a spot in the studio and we made our way over at 1AM. We played our music at Retro Town (4787-4863). It seemed to be an old hostel, or something, located in the second and third floors of a dilapidated building, converted into a musician hangout/recording studio. They offered instrument rentals and had amplifiers and drums all set up and ready for bands to come and record, or just play for fun. They also had a full bar.

I was able to experiment with a couple of good friends, including members of three local bands, Mister Mike from Los Alfajores (myspace.com/losalfajores) and Lucas from Koshka (myspace.com/koshkaband), who also worked with another fellow jammer, Bear, in the International Morrones Experiment. Our two plus hour jam session cost 50 pesos split between the six of us. Eventually, there maybe some footage leaked of our "Retro sessions" because Mike, like the professional that he is, always brings his video camera. I spent most of my time on the Keytar, a bit of a departure from my bass playing in Nine Wives (myspace.com/ninewives). We rocked it.

It was a great way to pass the time with musician friends, day or night. I also found this website which links to a list of various Salas de Ensayo all over the beautiful city of Buenos Aires. All prices differ. Call ahead to verify if there's any space available. But it seems like there need not be too much time in advance. Good luck. Rock and roll.

Yanqui Doodle Dandy

2007-11-26T18:43:00.000-03:00

All of us have to deal with unpleasant things in life. Sometimes, as expats in Buenos Aires, those unpleasant things in life are other Yanquis. There are, of course, also many wonderful, cool Yanquis here. Here are a few types of Estadounidenses you may find in Buenos Aires.

Also, I am a teacher now (jaja) so here is your vocabulary lesson for today: Yanqui, obviously, means Yankee, as in someone from the United States. But ¡ojo! it is NOT pronounced Yankee like in English. It is pronounced with a Porteño accent like "Shankee."

Study Abroad Yanquis
There are many lovely, buena onda people who study abroad in Buenos Aires. But we're not talking about them, are we? The Study Abroad Yanquis I'm talking about don't seem to realize they are in another country, and get irritated when they notice that they are. They may as well be in Cancún for spring break. They like empanadas and dulce de leche, but that's about as far as it goes.

Love Yanquis
Here because of love... These Yanquis usually have better connections than the rest of us, lots of Argentine friends and family, and a definite advantage when it comes to dealing with bureaucracy, etc. Sometimes they are victims of Homeland Security's ridiculous immigration policies, and sometimes they are just old-fashioned romantics.

TOEFL Yanquis
Well, this pretty much describes all of us, doesn't it? Also known as TEFL/ TESOL Yanquis. ¿Qué haces aquí? is a complicated question for us TOEFL Yanqs that usually takes several sentences to answer... "Well, I teach English, but I also work sometimes at an office, and sometimes I volunteer in a Villa, oh and I also have this side project..." You can find us wearing totally inappropriate clothes to job interviews because it's all we have with us, and trying to explain "supply chain management" in Castellano.

Hostel Yanquis
Fun, friendly, always down for a good time. They're stoked to chat about their travels with you over a litro of Quilmes and a porro. They're up for whatever, enjoy meeting new people and generally have fun wherever they go. The only problem with Hostel Yanqs is that they move on within a few weeks.

"I've been here for 8 years and I still don't speak Spanish" Yanquis
Enough said.

Tango Yanquis
They exist in a different world than the rest of us. One I don't know much about, but it seems cool. I like the shoes and the music.

Loud & Proud Yanquis
You will find the Loud & Prouds at Plaza Serrano or the San Telmo street fair on Sundays. You may hear them comment how cheap everything is, because they don't earn money in pesos. They are either Study Abroad Yanquis subsidized by their parents, or tourists. Or oil company execs earning money in dollars.

Idealist Yanquis
Idealist Yanquis are good people who volunteer in Villas, do internships in the North, and give any extra monedas they have to the kids in the Subte. It can be hard to sustain this idealism for long, but it's good while it lasts.

Quarter-life Crisis Yanquis
This is the nearest and dearest Yanqui category to my heart, because I am one. Usually overlapping with the TOEFL Yanqui type, Quarter-life Crisis Yanquis are twenty-somethings who don't know what the heck they're doing with their lives. So they run away to a foreign country. Suddenly, life is exotic and challenging! Law school and 9-5 office jobs can wait!
You can recognize us by our answer to the question, ¿hasta cuándo te quedas? (How long are you staying?) We may first look at you in confusion, because we try not to think that far into the future. Our answer will be something like: "6 months? A year? ¿Por siempre? ¿Quién sabe?"

Learning to teach

2007-11-21T17:50:00.000-03:00

Ayy Dios mio. You may not hear much from me for the next 4 weeks. And what you do hear, will probably be short incoherent bursts of stress & insanity. This is because I've started taking a TEFL/TESOL course to become certified as an English teacher. Then, presumably, I can actually start working here, albeit as an illegal immigrant, but whatever. I'll be able to stay in Buenos Aires, hopefully even in my beloved but pricey barrio of Palermo, and that is the most important thing. I am only 3 days into my course, and it's already one of the most intense academic experiences I've ever had. The instructor is fabulous, as are the other students in the class, but it's hard not to be overwhelmed by the huge amounts of material we have to learn in just 4 weeks. Added to that, we have teaching practice every week. That means I have teach a real class tomorrow - eek! However, I think this method of throwing us into the deep end of the pool right away is a good one. There is a LOT to learn, so we better learn it as fast as we can. So much more goes into teaching than I ever considered. It's not just the grammar and knowing your subject, it's theories & methodology, engaging your students, motivating them, trying to see your own language from the perspective of an outsider, trying to speak for a whole hour using only present tense, considering age, gender, culture, planning lessons so that the material doesn't just float in one ear and out the other... and more, and more.
But - I have to say, although it's incredibly stressful, I really love learning about all this. And as the instructor points out frequently, we are so lucky to be teaching in Buenos Aires - because that means we are going to be teaching Argentines, who are lovely, outgoing, inquisitive people by nature.
Today when I left class I was feeling speechless with stress, really having no idea how I was going to finish all the work on time, and sort of disappointed at realizing that there would be no social life for me for the next 4 weeks!
Then, as I was walking through Plaza Lavalle to the Subte, Julieta Venegas on the iPod, a Spanish-speaking tourist stopped me. "You're from here, right," she said, "Do you know what those trees are called?"
Here I should mention that in Buenos Aires, overnight it seems, Spring has arrived and these huge gorgeous jacaranda trees with bright purple blossoms are blooming everywhere.
"Jacaranda, si?" I told the tourist, and she went back to her friends to report. I looked up at the trees, a breeze was blowing and thousands of the bright purple blossoms were floating to the ground. I don't know whether it was my broken-down mental state from all the stress, but I had this little moment of clarity, like, Oh, yeah, THIS is why I'm here, this is why I'm doing this. Because I LOVE Buenos Aires. Even on the bad days, when the Subte's broken, no one understands my Castellano, the amigovio doesn't call, there's still nowhere else I'd rather be.

Soon I'll probably be on the street in San Telmo singing "Mi Buenos Aires Querido," you never know, if this English-teaching thing doesn't work out.

More on that...

2007-11-20T17:48:00.000-03:00

Sarah did a great job of describing our vacation to the south. Very thorough.

I thought I might add that the Corsa will never be the same; Ive never officially learned how to drive a manual. I keep on hopping in rental cars and learning by error. Ethan did a good job of helping out during our road trip in Southern Sweden last summer. And Luisa taught me some important tricks this time that seem to help as well, ie. shifting when you hit 3000 rpm. Who knew? The poor girls got so car sick with me behind the wheel. I didn't help that we were lost and driving on unpaved roads 43% of the time.

Not knowing how to put the Corsa in reverse was probably the most embarrasing incident, though. I had managed to find a good spot pulled in (up to a gate) and was ready to back it up alongside the curb, when I began to confront difficulties. I kept trying to force the damn stick as far to the left as possible. It kept going into first instead, but I would have to tap the gas just to make sure. Instead of reversing we kept inching closer and closer to the gate, in our white rental car. I began to sweat, imagining how visible it would be if I just inched a few centimeters to much. I couldn't believe that they'd make a car without a reverse option. I had already stuck the car in neutral and got out, trying to physically push it into the correct position, when a generous man came over and asked what the problem was. He was probably used to tourists, but i still have the feeling that may have been the first time he'd seen something so ridiculous. Not that he showed it.

The Corsa really went through a lot of abuse. Like we mentioned, all the roads were gravel. I was driving in the wrong gear about a third of the time. And the Patagonian steppe is so vast and soo infinite, that the distances are on a different scale. We drove for about two hours without seeing a single human. This brought us to a little junction where we realized that we had probably taken the wrong way to get to that point. But oh well. We trucked on like professionals, nervously checking out the gas meter every few kilometers. The road signs which labeled the distances were so incorrect and so full of shit, that by the time we got to Punto Tombo, we were pretty much out of gas. But the nice, generous people of Argentina came through again, in the pinch, and we got a dozen liters of gas when we needed it the most.

The Corsa had a bit easier time on the way back; we took the road at the junction we should have taken the first time around. And good thing we did. Even driving on the newly paved road and coasting down any and all hills to save gas barely got us to a gas station, which was diesel only. Of course. The next seven were closed and boarded up. But finally finding an open normal station, filling her up with gas, and refilling our tanks with the tastiest helado we've ever had, gave us the boost we needed to make it back to El Gualicho in Puerto Madryn.

When we returned the Corsa the next morning, I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about the all the abuse we had put her through. When the car rental fellow went out to check the kilometer-age and gas tank, I started to sweat. But he was so concentrated on looking at the dashboard, he didnt hear the high pitched squeal when he turned the Corsa on. Or notice it shaking violently in its parked position.

As we ate Paella Valenciana that night and reflected on our adventure, Sarah and I agreed that someone/something had been looking out for us. We had seen tons of whales, were told that we were lucky to see them begin so social, enjoyed great weather, found our way again after getting lost half a dozen times, renting the last available car in the city, and finding gas miraculously when we needed it most. It was all the highs and lows that enriched our experience and kept us on our toes. In the end, we were both thankful for all the good luck, and, for the delicious paella.

Now, enjoy some footage taken by professionals:

Whale!

A penguing looking both ways before crossing the path. Waddle you see this one!

Ballenas, pingüinos, y guanacos, Oh My!

2007-11-18T14:55:00.000-03:00

For the last few days, Will & I have been in Patagonia, specifically a place called Península Valdés in the southern province of Chubut. It is basically a marine reserve/ playground for Southern Right Whales, Magellan penguins, and other wildlife.
To start from the beginning, first we hopped a bus from Bs As to Puerto Madryn, the town that is basically a jumping off point & tourist center for all Península Valdés-related activities. The 20 hour bus ride wasn't exactly as luxurious as we had been led to believe, even though we were in ejecutivo class. However, it was basically fine, and we were able to enjoy several different incarnations of ham & cheese and a few of the worst American movies never released at home that I've ever seen (the night started off with "Catch & Release," followed by "The Comeback Season," "Fast & the Furious III," and was almost redeemed at the end by "Rocky Balboa.")
We arrived to Puerto Madryn, a tiny and adorable seaside town, and made our way to Hostel El Gualicho. The first day we spent settling in, walking around the town, visiting a couple of very nice Oceanographic museums, and feeling like we were in Antarctica. I mean really, it was absolutely freezing that first day. We made friends with some local street dogs and figured out how to rent a car for the next day. The highlight of which was the guy at the car rental place telling me (apparently) how well I spoke Spanish, which I didn't understand until Will mentioned it later.
The next day we got up early, picked up our car - a tiny white Chevy Corsa - and started the drive to the Peninsula.
Puerto Pirámides is a little one-block town where all the whale-watching tours are based. After we figured out how to make the Corsa drive in reverse - with the help of a friendly local - we set off the make arrangements to see the whales.
An hour later, we were on the boat, motoring out into the gulf. Within ten minutes of leaving the shore, we saw our first whale. It was pretty much constant from then on, being surrounded by these huge amazing Ballenas Franco Austral - they swam up to the boat and nosed around, swam underneath us, poked their fins & tails out of the water, and basically lolled around in the ocean like big lazy puppies. It was indescribable to see whales up close like that. We got really lucky too, because tours the day before hadn't seen any whales at all. I could've spent the whole day out there but eventually we had to come back, feeling sort of dazed & elated by the whole experience.
We spent the rest of the day driving around the Peninsula - horrible gravel roads, but we entertained ourselves with car games and general insanity. It should be pointed out that by now Will and I are probably closer than a brother & sister, and instead of getting sick of each other, the more time we spend together the more we laugh uncontrollably and talk in an increasingly incoherent mixture of English, Spanish, and made-up slang.
The drive around the Peninsula was lovely and included vistas of elefant seals and penguins, which were awesome but sort of paled in comparison to seeing the whales.
We headed back to the hostel and went out for a drink with a big fun group of Deutschies.

On the agenda for the next day was Punta Tombo, a nature reserve for Magellan penguins. We were joined by Luisa, a super cool German girl from the hostel. The sun was finally shining and we started the drive with high hopes, which lasted until we got to Trelew, a town on the way that is best described by something Luisa said later in the day: "After driving through Trelew, I'm pretty sure there is nothing in this whole city that I like, except for maybe one little house somewhere... maybe."
First, to explain, good maps of the Península Valdés area do not exist. At all. We had about 5 different maps and each had totally conflicting and not at all similar theories about the route & distance from Puerto Madryn to Punta Tombo (248 km? 171 km? Quien sabe?)
We were lead to believe that from Trelew, there would be a gravel road going the rest of the way to Punta Tombo. After driving in circles for a while, we were on the verge of giving up. Everyone we asked for directions said the same thing, "Go up a few blocks, look for the signs, and ask someone else." Well, there were NO signs to look for. By the grace of God, we eventually found the road to Punta Tombo. But the confusion didn't end there. Here's an example of the road signs we found on that road (literally):

At the entrance to the road: Punta Tombo 115 km
Approximately 15 seconds later: Punta Tombo 76 km
Half an hour later: Penguins 95 km

We stuck it out for the hellish 3 hour drive to Punta Tombo, in good spirits but desperately hoping that whatever was on the other side of this road would be worth it. In addition, due to the total confusion on how long the drive was, we realized we didn't have nearly enough gas to make it back to civilization.
Well.
Things began to look up immediately once we got to Punta Tombo. A very kind park ranger siphoned some gas out of his own truck and gave it to us. We were introduced to a few young American scientists living at Punta Tombo & researching the penguins.
And then we entered the park... I didn't think anything could've compared with seeing whales the day before, but this did. Adorable Magellan penguins were EVERYWHERE. Waddling across the path, looking very formal with their little business suit-like feathers. They were totally unafraid of people and in fact, didn't even seem to notice we were there. Most of the penguins were sitting on their eggs but a few had newly hatched babies we were able to get a peek at, including one so young the broken eggshell was still there beside the Momma penguin. The penguins were so unbelievably cute and friendly, and Punta Tombo itself was gorgeous. We also saw guanacos and an armadillo.
The horrific drive to Punta Tombo faded from our minds and on the way back, we found a shortcut to the freeway and made it just in time to a gas station in Trelew, where we also had some life-saving ice cream.
We headed back to the hostel, bid Auf Wiedersehen to the German girls, who were headed to Barriloche, and had some fresh seafood paella for la cena.
Friday we souvenir-shopped and caught our bus back to BA. Overall, the trip couldn't have been much more perfect.

On Nature and Minimalism

2007-11-12T00:37:00.000-03:00

Bleep bleep deeet deet deeet deet bleep bleep. I still have machine-like blips and bloops looping over and over in my brain. We danced to musica minima all night long, Argentine style. It was quite the initiation too; we were imprisoned in the dark dungeon of a basement inhaling second-hand smoke, exposed only to artificial blue and red ceiling lights as if on some futuristic space ship, until about 9 this morning when we escaped and took a taxi back home, already in broad daylight. Apparently this form of "music" has a growing underground popularity, here and in Europe. I'm not so sure--its kind of hard to dance to music that sounds like a failing supercomputer.
Oh god:

But what's travel without a full night of dancing to minimal techno.

Tomorrow, we embark on an adventure south. We're headed for Peninsula Valdes, Patagonia, to watch whales breach and penguins mate. We'll be taking the week off, so you won't hear anything from us until next weekend, when we'll try to include a slide show and explain callosities to laypeople.

Palacio Alsina

2007-11-10T17:23:00.000-03:00

Hey single girls in BA - sick of getting catcalled & hit on all the time, whether you're in a club, a bar, or just walking down the sidewalk at 2 pm in sweatpants?
Well, I have a solution. Don't get me wrong, I love the straight men here in Buenos Aires. They're hot, confident, smooth-talking, stylish, and they wear cute business suits all the time. What's not to like? And even if you know that all that "Me vuelves loco!" and "Ayy, me rompiste el corazon!" is mostly bullshit, who cares, it sounds so good when they say it.
But if you need a break from the games & constant attention you'll find at most of clubs here, check out Palacio Alsina (Alsina 940, between 9 de Julio & Tacuari, and just down the block from legendary Hostel Clan.)
On Friday nights, Alsina becomes Palacio Alsina, basically a disco playground for gay men and a handful of chicas. It's in a massive historical-looking warehouse with 4 bars and white leather booths lining the (huge) dance floor.
We got there early to avoid the long lines that start to form around 2 am. It was pretty quiet at first but quickly filled up and by 3 am it was absolute madness. Early in the night, Will & I met another "couple" from Brazil and we hung out with them for the rest of the night, except for intervals when the guy was making out with various Argentines. The only problem was they didn't really speak Spanish or English, and didn't seem to understand that we didn't speak Portuguese. But we had a lot of fun dancing with them, and I think "Drop it like it's hot" is pretty much a universal language anyway (abajo - ABAJO!!!)
By 4 am there were some of the hottest men I have ever seen go-go dancing on the bar in leopard print thongs and I even got to dance with a 7 foot tall drag queen.
Overall, a very very good night.
Being surrounded by hot shirtless men who definitely aren't interested in you might not be everyone's idea of a good time, but if you ever just wanna let your guard down and feel the love from 10, 000 of South America's coolest gay men, Palacio Alsina's the place.

Casa dulce casa!

2007-11-07T17:02:00.000-03:00

On Monday we moved to a new apartment in Palermo Viejo. The neighborhood is fantastic - tall leafy trees lining the street, sidewalk cafes in every direction, walking distance to anything we might need, and my new best friend, our doorman Osmar, who I exchange cheek kisses with about 5 times a day.
By the way - that's reason #4,872 that I love love love Buenos Aires, the kisses - it's such a nice way to greet people, so much friendlier and more intimate than a handshake.
Anyway, we also live half a block from Plaza Guemes, an idyllic square with a children's playground, puppies, and people leisurely reading the newspaper or drinking mate. Right next to the Plaza (and included in the view from our balcony to the left) is the Basilica del Espiritu Santo.
As for the apartment - well, it has a lot of character. In the living room, we have some large leather armchairs with gold and silver sequined pillows adorning them, and a table and set of chairs that may date back to Henry VXXMII. As the centerpiece of the table, there is a very worn looking bottle of Drambuie, some mystery cherry liquer, and a tiny cocktail glass, as though some 18th century pirate had a nightcap at the table before we moved in. In the front hallway, we have a large Asian inspired tapestry, and in the back we have cabinets and cabinets full of random kitsch, broken china, and huge acrylic paintings. On our first day in the apartment, we discovered that almost everything is broken, but in a very charming and endearing way. None of the faucets turn off completely, the toilet only stops running on occasion, the bathroom door doesn't close, and using the microwave requires an extension cord dangling into the sink. But - we absolutely love it. It's funky, and retro, and stylish, and it already feels like home.
We also have two baby birds living on our balcony. They are named Hola and Chau, and Will discovered them yesterday, when at first he thought they were "one big dead bird" only to discover that they were actually two small living birds. They look very mellow and mostly just cuddle with each other in their ceramic pot. The mommy bird (a dove) has come to visit a couple times, so hopefully Hola and Chau will be alright.
Anyway, we love our new place and what with wondering whether the kitchen cabinet will fall off the wall next time you go to get some olive oil, or the bathroom sink crack and shatter next time you wash your hands, and not really being able to close any of the doors in the apartment, life is never boring. It's a constant adventure, even if you're just getting up for a glass of water in the middle of the night.
And that's how I like it.

Pssst

2007-11-06T21:29:00.000-03:00

A quick follow-up to Will's post. Maybe by now you've watched the amazingness of Axel's Ace laundry detergent commercial. If not, scroll down & enjoy. If you have watched it & don't speak Spanish, and would like to fully appreciate this true work of art and/or sing along, here's my (shoddy & very literal) Spanish to English translation of the song.

Yo quiero ser tu amor por siempre
I want to be your love forever
Hoy quiero entregarte mi amor y mi dulzura
Today I want to bring to you my love & my sweetness
Suavidad en tus manos y aroma a ternura
Gentle on your hands & a pleasant aroma (Lit. aroma of tenderness)
Que se mete en tu alma
That stays in your soul
Y de blanco te inunda
and inundates you with white
Yoooo quiero...
I want...

Coming soon: a post on our new digs, including our new pets, two birds we found living in a ceramic pot on our balcony, who we have named Hola and Chau.

De aquel amor

2007-11-05T20:30:00.000-03:00

Sarah and I just moved into our new pad and its very saucy, more to come on that.

I decided it was time to post about Soda Stereo, only one of the most important bands of South America. Soda Stereo was, apparently, big in the 80's and 90's and part of a movement for musica nacional. After the dictatorship, when presumably there was no rock and roll allowed, Argentina had a surge of national rock bands singing in Spanish, which is important when most rock and roll is sung in English.

At any rate, neither Sarah nor I had ever heard about them back in the States (where we are subjected to listening to the same corporate rock music over and over and where music that's not in English is non-existent), but Soda Stereo reunited for a tour of South America. They just finished playing here, and, being the national heroes that they are, sold out four shows at the stadium.

The thing is, there was this commercial that intrigued us, and quickly became Sarah's favorite, before we even knew who these guys were. We kept watching it, loving it and trying to figure who these musicians were all covering. Anyway, with Julia's help we sorted it all out. But, in honor of Soda Stereo's sold-out shows this weekend (and because we no longer have a TV), I thought it would be a good time to let you see Sarah's favorite commercial for yourselves:

I know its probably disrespectful to Soda Stereo but I thought I'd just include my favorite commercial as well, if youre interested, which im sure you all are. This one has a famous Argentine musician as well, my man Axel. Enjoy.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Taxi Cab Confessions/ I heart Buenos Aires

2007-11-03T22:29:00.000-03:00

Yes, we realize this is the third post in one day. But it can't be helped, because of the hilariousness of what just happened. After a totally unsuccessful attempt to find vegetarian restaurant Bio, we settled on panchos (hot dogs) and beer at Plaza Serrano. We were going to a bar later so we hailed a taxi back home to get ready. There begins the adventure. The taxi driver was playing lovely tango music and immediately struck up a conversation. I'll translate:

Taxi Driver: "Are you boyfriend & girlfriend?"
Me and Will: "Oh, no, no..."
Taxi Driver: "Oh, husband and wife?"
Me & Will: "No no no, just friends! Just friends."
Taxi Driver: "Are all the girls in the United States so pretty?"
Will: "Yes, always."

A few minutes later...

Taxi Driver (to me): "You're very beautiful... you remind me of my daughter. I also have a son. He has nice clear eyes like you. He's an engineer here and has a job at a very important company. Give me your number, I'll give it to him. He's a very good boy."

Taxi Driver (to Will): "And you... He'll invite you to a party."

Well, it actually ended with me giving the taxi driver my email address to give to his son. That guy had some game!!!

It made up for the bad time we had earlier with a different taxi driver and definitely made my night. Only in Argentina.

Will wants to make sure I don't end the post without expressing his undying love for Super Panchos. So there it is.

Comida Peruana

2007-11-03T19:12:00.000-03:00

In the spirit of Dick (see entry below), and his ignorance, I think it's time to learn about our new favorite Peruvian place. And also, I figure that I should probably write about this delicious restaurant we tried last night, before we find ourselves at another one and begin to forget what fun we had at the first. That's basically all we've been doing this last week; eating good food. But for me, that's the pleasure of traveling.

So after starving ourselves until about 21:30, we brought out the Lonely Planet and decided to choose a restaurant. Sarah had been craving arroz con frijoles since we got here, and I still hadn't had decent Peruvian since I visited in, when was that, 2000? At any rate, after a little bit of research (we were really starving so the decision wasn't too difficult) we taxied out to Congresso for some Peruvian at Status, at Virrey Cevallos 178. Awesome choice.

The place was a bit crowded, with tables justo al lado, but there was still enough room for the camarero get to us.

We began with the Ceviche Mixto totally Peruvian style, just the way I remember, seasoned with lemon juice and various spices and of course, two tall Pisco Sours with egg white and all. The ceviche even came with those little fresh corn nut things they include with everything.

The ceviche was quite filling, but as Sarah and I looked around, the main dishes looked so enticing that we opted for more, much more. Sarah took the arroz y frijoles con bistec (which may have just satisfied her rice and bean craving temporarily) and I went for my personal Peruvian fav, the Lomo Saltado, a plate filled with strips of marinated lamb, french fries, and sauteed onions and peppers, and of course, rice. We couldn't have been much happier.
And the dinner was incredibly reasonable-- 70 pesos for more food than we could eat and good strong drink (and a nice tip : ).

We're definitely going back to Status. Viva Peru.

Damn Yanquis

2007-11-03T15:47:00.000-03:00

I debated about whether or not to deface our precious blog with a picture of smirky, evil to the core Dick Cheney, but in the end I decided this post just wouldn't be the same without a visual of Dubya's #2 man. Yeah, pretty hot.

So anyway, yesterday Cheney made the following remark while addressing the World Affairs Council in Dallas. The subject of his speech was Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez.

"The people of Peru, I think, deserve better in their leadership, but that's obviously a matter they've got to resolve themselves."

Well. I'll just let that sink in. I don't think I need to explain all the different levels of horrifying contained in the comment. I guess Dick (or whoever briefed him for the speech) should have wikipedia'd Hugo Chavez beforehand, or I don't know, read the newspaper at some point in the last 10 or 15 years.

En serio, ya basta. If you'd like to witness this moment for yourself, check out the Youtube video below. I think we can safely say that Dick Cheney is not cut out for FOX's Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?

Mmm...

2007-11-02T01:08:00.000-03:00

Parrilla: A very typical Argentine culinary experience that basically consists of lots and lots of different kinds of meat usually served on little grills at your table. To be eaten with ensalada, papas fritas, and some fabulous Argentine vino tinto.
If you didn't already know that, you may want to take a minute right now to add "Travel to South America" to your To Do list, or to the post-it notes stuck all around the edge of your computer.
Dale? Continuamos.

Tonight was a very big night for Will. He experienced his very first Argentine parrilla, meaning he is now a full member of the community. As for me, it was my first parrilla with actual Argentines there to guide us and dar consejos, so I had a lot of fun as well.
We had about 5 kinds of steak, chorizo (sausage), mollejas (sweetbreads), and morcilla (blood sausage.) We skipped chinchulines (intestines) tonight - we are after all Yanquis. We'll get there.
I was scared before we even got there of the blood sausage, mostly because well - it sounds utterly disgusting. It was actually pretty good - Will compared it to eating black beans. My favorite was the chorizo, probably because it reminded me of the sausages we used to get at Eastern European Christmas markets when I was living in Budapest.
We were too busy eating 78% of the body parts of a cow to notice the name of the restaurant where we ate, but it was at Costa Rica y Humboldt in Palermo.
Anyway, I'm very tired from the sordid events of last night (Halloween in Buenos Aires - no details are necessary or recommended) and from the food coma eating the parrilla has put me in...
I think Anthony Bourdain said it best in the Argentina episode of No Reservations, when while eating faina (basically a tortilla made of chickpea flour, that can be topped with cheese or whatever), he remarked: "I think a drunk person invented this."
I think that somewhat accurately describes a lot of the food in Buenos Aires; not that it's messy or made without care, but that the focus seems to be on simple, satisfying, high quality ingredients presented without a lot of fuss - the flavor of the food doesn't get lost in the pretension of the dish the way it often seems to at home. Or something.
Okay, I'm going to bed. Chauuu!

Donde esta la Juana?

2007-10-31T15:52:00.000-03:00

After surviving a near fatal taxi ride, with a driver who had to be absolutely nuts (it became very apparent when Julia called him out on endangering our lives and he asked us if we were afraid of death), we arrived in front of Ciudad Cultural Konex, Sarmiento 3131, to see Juana Molina perform.

The venue is quite remarkable. The building must have been an old commercial warehouse or something comparable. We entered into a large courtyard with Argentines hanging out, dangling from long swings which hung from the framework of the edge of the building and saw the huge industrial steel orange staircase, as if an installation from some modern art exhibit. After crossing the plaza/courtyard towards the bar, we walked into the open concrete building which holds the stage. Patrons were awaiting the next act, a fellow by the name of Gabo Ferro. We walked up alongside the stage and sat down next to our company to watch the show in the bottom level of this empty concrete parking structure. Ill skip Ferro, for he wasn't the reason we went.

Molina uses a crazy set up of three synthesizers stacked to one side, an acoustic guitar and multiple effects peddles-- the primary one is used to record and loop different sounds. Molina sings magically dreamy and uplifting songs. The amazing thing is being able to see her create these mini symphonies from her "wall of sound" right before an audience. Formally a successful actress in a sitcom/comedy bit, it's quite apparent why she left all that to pursue music. She is her music, and her music is her.

But dont take it from me. Watch her own explanation:

Molina deserves lots of recognition because of her ability to create and capture little snippets of life's beautiful moments and interpret them musically. I loved the concert and Im really glad to have found out about her. She can be a bit experimental for some, but I hope you all enjoy it. Check out her myspace as well.

The Thelonious

2007-10-29T16:15:00.000-03:00

For the third time in the last three weeks that Sarah and I have been in Buenos Aires, we went to Thelonious Jazz Club last night, on Salguero and Guemes. And for the third time in the three weeks that we've been here, I'm glad we went. Thelonious is, quite literally, a hole in the wall; it's easy to walk right past the narrow staircase leading up to the first floor of the corner building. The place is dimly lit and slightly dingy in the sort of way you'd want a jazz club to be. The paint is starting to peel off the high walls in some places, and the streetlamps shine through the dusty windows. The club is long and L shaped with a bar running the length, opposite the seven or so small tables, up to the stage. The drinks are strong and the choices plenty. I cannot avoid the wonderful mojito, for $13 which may sound expensive, but after two of those, you're good. And that's a helluva lot cheaper than a drink in the states. The entrance is generally between $10 and $20, depending on who's playing.

Its also a good idea to reserve a table or bar seat, as there is fairly limited seating, unless you don't mind standing or sitting, either on the stairs up to the ladies room, or on the floor in front of the stage, which is where I situated myself last night to see and hear Guillermo Klein y Los Gauchos.

What a show! It began a bit slowly, easing the audience into the world of the composer. But after the first two compositions, things picked up a bit. After the intermission, the second half was even more open and free, with more of a sense of improvisation. The songs were full of feeling and seemed to float through the air; they pushed and pulled as the band slowed down and sped up, often within the same composition. Mark, an American we've met along the way, who joined us last night, later referred to the music as "cerebral jazz."

Guillermo Klein spent seven years in New York, and is now living in Barcelona (hey look at that, two of my favorite cities, not including Bs As of course) and has recorded four albums with the Gauchos over the last ten years or so. He also studied music at the Berklee College of music, in Boston. Klein, in addition to some vocals, plays the piano. The Gauchos are made up of alto sax, trumpet, some ocassional electric keyboard, drum kit, additional percussion, and the electric bass. You can hear what the NY Times wrote about him/them here.

Another fantastic show, and another reason for me to return to what has quickly become a favorite activity of mine, watching a live jazz show at Thelonious.
Stay tuned, Sarah and I are seeing another show, Juana Molina, a little-known phenom tomorrow night.

Politics & Sushi...

2007-10-27T17:45:00.001-03:00

Are not really related. But before delving into the subject of Argentine politics, I wanna give a quick shout-out to the fabulous sushi we had last night at Moshimoshi (Ortega y Gasset & Soldado de la Independencia.)

We started with some delicious cocteles... mine included a list of ingredients that sounded totally dubious in combination - sake, green tea, apple juice, honey, and mint - but it was amazing. The sushi itself was fantastic, fresh, and creative (langostina tempura roll coated with cornflakes) and even the old Bs As standby, the Philadelphia roll, was exceptional. The restaurant itself was well-styled, both modern and warm, with a fashionable and groomed clientele that reminded me of my UCLA days and nights out in Beverly Hills. AND, the waitress actually asked us - on two separate occasions - if we were enjoying our food, an almost unheard of occurence here in Bs As.
As a sidenote, that is actually something I love about restaurants here, you can enjoy your food and chat without constant interruptions from a waiter/waitress asking if you're ready to order before you've even opened the menu, asking to take away your plate if you set down your fork for just a minute... But I digress.

The real point of this post was meant to be the presidential election tomorrow in Argentina. I really don't know enough about the politics behind each candidate to comment (the last time I tried to discuss the election with a friend from Argentina, it went something like this: "So who are you voting for on Sunday?" "I don't know, probably I won't go." "Really? What about Cristina?" "Uyy, it makes me sick, let's change the subject.")
So I'll stick to what I do know: how they look. The forerunner here is the current first lady, Cristina Kirchner (and by forerunner, I mean that by all accounts she already has it in the bag.)

The first thing you notice about Cristina is - well, the copious amount of mascara she wears. Does she not have a team of handlers and stylists to say, "Che, Cristina, take it easy on the mascara"? But, en serio, I think it is very cool that in Argentina female politicians are allowed to look feminine and even sexy, and not forced into the obligatory Janet Reno haircuts and bland powersuits of the women of Capitol Hill.
Although, as a feminista, I have to wonder: Is it just two sides of the same coin?
There's a lot more to be said on that topic... I find myself wondering how we can casually discuss the machismo in South American cultures like it has nothing to do with us, while we are the ones who devote entire articles in serious newspapers to Hillary Clinton's cleavage.
But I'll save that tangent for my master's thesis, or something.

Here's a final thought on politics, courtesy of an anonymous Buenos Aires street artist:

Ride Of My Life

2007-10-26T16:21:00.000-03:00

Last night, we celebrated Sarah's birthday. We began the night at our friends hostel, drinking and sharing travel stories with other wanderers such as ourselves. At the stroke of midnight we all sang happy birthday in at least three different languages. I made a speech too. Something about how I've known Sarah since we were 12 and how she's becoming a woman.

Sarah had ganas to dance to some hip-hop at a club, and so, our adventure unfolded. Our crew (me, Sarah, the three Swedish ladies, Julia, and a gang of five Swedish dudes) caught taxis all the way out to Puerto Madero, to go to Asia de Cuba club. Unfortunately, the entry was like $50 so we all vetoed that idea, and instead headed back over to Palermo to check out hip-hop night at Lost (Club Araoz). We hailed three taxis, Julia (in her fabulous Spanish) instructed all three drivers on how to get there, we split up and hopped on in. Thus began the ride of our lives.

We sped off into the Buenos Aires night--I think I had Ellie, Sarah, and Julia in my cab, but I was squished in the front and couldn't turn all the way around to see. The driver, in celebration of Sarah's birthday asked us if we liked to sing. Of course, we said. So, he deejayed the best cab ride of my life. We were singing "I can't get no satisfaction, no no no" at the top of our lungs, dancing and waving around, and each time we pulled up to a light, alongside our compatriots in their own cabs, we would roll down the windows and rock it, baby. We sang along to many greats, including Superfreak, I Will Survive, Sex Machine, probably more. What a riot. All whilst driving 120 km down broad city streets. We brought the party with us, and that by far, was the greatest cab ride in my 23 years.

The rest of the night was a success too. Sarah got that craving for some rowdy hip-hop taken care of, and like every night here, it was unforgettable. Tonight, sushi?
Happy Birthday Sarah )

Moscas en la casa...

2007-10-21T20:33:00.000-03:00

I think I have discovered a downside to wonderful Buenos Aires - the mosquitos. These are not really your average, run of the mill North American mosquitos that you occasionally see while camping or barbecuing in the backyard in the summertime, the ones that keep away at the hint of a citronella candle or a little spritz of Off. No. These are huge, crazy, aggressive mosquitos who would feel right at home in The Birds or When Animals Attack, etc.

We basically live in fear of them and when one of us spots one inside the apartment, we get a half-crazed, intent look in our eyes and disregard whatever conversation/activity we were previously involved in. Then we stagger around, climbing on furniture and throwing whatever happens be on hand at the wall/ceiling in an attempt to kill the mosquito, shouting frantic instructions and encouragement to each other.
I know this is a really boring blog post, and I promise more exciting ones to come, but I am seriously confused by this. How the heck do so many mosquitos live in such a completely urban environment? AND how do the Argentines deal with it so well? You never see them with huge ugly welts all over their legs, swatting crazily at the air at sidewalk cafes, or jumping up after two minutes of sitting in the grass at a park only to discover you have 17 new bites to show off.

I know it's only going to get worse as Spring turns into Summer, so I have to know - what is the secret for surviving the mosquitos of Buenos Aires??

P.S. Cheers to you if you know & love the song "Moscas en la casa..." Shakira Shakira!

The Swedish Thing

2007-10-18T12:37:00.000-03:00

Last night we went out with some of my favorite people in the whole world, the Swedish girls I met in Chile last summer. We went to Niceto Club (5510 Niceto Vega in Palermo.) I don't know if it was the American dj, Diplo, or if Niceto is always like this, but it was overflowing with expats and tourists. The only ones speaking Spanish (it seemed) were behind the bar.
The club itself was nice enough, good music, a friendly crowd, BUT we were definitely charged the "tourist price" when it came to ordering drinks... a vodka tonic for $17 pesos!?!
It was a very fun night anyway. It ended in perfect Latin American style, with a guy from Costa Rica telling me and Angie that he was really un buen chico and we should let the other Swedish girl, Elly, go home with him - while he put a hand on our asses. Ah...

On another, totally unrelated, note: We went to the Rose Garden in Parque 3 de Febrero yesterday and it was AMAZING. So beautiful and serene. Sweet old couples sharing mate, teenagers kissing, dogs, babies, paddleboats and of course breathtaking roses. It was lovely.
It immediately brought out the little girl's wedding fantasy I didn't know I had and unconsciously the thought popped into my head " I want to get married here!"

d. de leche...?

2007-10-15T11:36:00.000-03:00

So, I just want to know, what's the deal with Dulce de Leche? It's in every dessert that I've eaten here. I'm not complaining. It's really good. And for those of you who have tried Haagen Dazs brand Dulce de Leche ice cream back at home and think you know what I'm talking about, I'm letting you know that you don't. It's different here; it's much thicker and sweeter.

Sarah would be the first to agree. She says it's much sweeter here too, to the point where she won't eat it. When I show her a cookie, oozing with delectably delicious dulce de leche, she literally shudders because she knows how her mouth/body react to eating something so sweet. Of course she's trying to keep her aversion to Dulce de Leche a secret. She's afraid her distaste for one of Argentina's national pastimes (eating d. de leche) might get her deported. Well, hopefully the Argentine government doesn't know about this blog because, if we haven't already made some typically ignorant American remarks, we're bound to cause a stir eventually. "Que me dices? Es verdad? A ella no le gusta dulce de leche? Dios mio, que lastima! Es Americana, seguro." Wait until we start talking about futbol and the soon-to-be president, Cristina Kirchner. When we leave for Uruguay intending to get our passports re-stamped they won't let us back in.

At any rate, our main goal Saturday morning was to return to Sarah's old stomping grounds, and enjoy some cafe and a few fine treats at Las Violetas on Rivadavia. So we set out walking towards the Almagro neighborhood with big eyes and empty stomachs. Las Violetas is one of the older cafes in Buenos Aires, dating back to the 19th century. The cafe, which has a grand salon-like interior with large windows and a very high ceiling, is run by waiters wearing white jackets and bow ties and thick black moustaches. At Sarah's recommendation we ordered the Maria Cala breakfast, which for only $30 (pesos) would make Corky, my beloved lab, full. The tray came piled to the brim with ham and cheese sandwiches, toasts, jams, and, of course, a selection of eight different ways of eating dulce de leche. It's in everything here.

Yummm! We struggled to finish as much as we could. This included a cafe con leche and some freshly squeezed orange juice. But, alas, it was just too much. Plus, half of the deserts were filled with d. de leche and I was on my own. We did a good job though. The toughest part was leaving food on that plate. God I wish I could have some of those desserts right now.

Sarah kept begging me to eat the little dulce de leche taco, which was essentially 96% d. de leche. We have a small photo sequence to demonstrate the struggle to finish that little candy. Keep in mind, this was after a plate full of d. de leche candies and ham sandwiches.

That was hard to swallow! Overall, it was a great day, good food, good coffee, and shared with a good companion.

I got an ice cream sundae yesterday, and to avoid sharing any, I had it topped with dulce de leche. That's my secret. All this chat about dulce de leche is making me crave it. I'm going to go look for some.

Stand under my umbrella

2007-10-12T14:02:00.000-03:00

Ella Ella, Ay ay ay...

Yes it would be nice if it stopped raining here. Ever. But c'est la vie, I'm still loving it. Fun things to do in the rain include: watching Entourage on Will's laptop, trying to go to museums but somehow not making it, working on eating our endless supply of jamon cocido y queso casero, having fun with the Metric System (Will is 1.88 tall; I am 1.70)... and learning how to convert Fahrenheit into Celsius, which you do by first subtracting 32, then multiply by 5/9, run around the block and do a little dance. If you're lucky, you won't come up with an answer that even people with mathphobia know is ridiculous... ("So the boiling point of water is... negative 5? Wait...")
Anyway, we haven't gotten to see as much of the city as I'd like with this Seattle-esque weather, but we DID make it to a true cultural landmark on Wednesday:

Yes, that's right, the ONLY Kosher McDonald's in the entire world outside of Israel. (In the Abasto mall at Corrientes & Anchorena.) It didn't seem much different than other McDonald's except for the noticeable lack of cheese on the menu and the fact that cashiers tried to guilt you into eating more than you wanted.

More fun & adventures with culture shock coming soon. Although I have to say, there hasn't really been too much of that. The people here are just as friendly & helpful as I remembered... I keep waiting to meet someone who is rude/ unhelpful/ impatient with my broken Castellano, but it hasn't happened yet.

& if we ever get homesick...

Where am I?

2007-10-10T13:55:00.000-03:00

Ya hemos llegado! Alive and kicking, Sarah and I have moved into our quaint (read: cute but very small) apartment which lies on the border of two lovely Bs As neighborhoods: Palermo and Recoleta. Our neighbors are a middle-aged couple named Pancho and Delfa. They take care of the details for Don Juan Giovonni, the owner of our flat. Delfa and Pancho are soo kind! They keep giving us damn good cheese, and telling us that we should think of them as our parents. I imagine by the end of the month, I'll be talking Argentine politics over a game of chess while eating lots of yummy cheese with my boy Pancho.

It has been rainy and wet the last two days; perfect weather for days at the museum. So that's what is on the agenda for today.

Is it just me, or do they over-prescribe neck braces in Latin American countries? In Barcelona, I couldn't walk ten meters without seeing a neck brace. I saw three, the first day I was here, but none yesterday. Ill keep you posted. That wasn't a pun.