Best Year Ever

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!?!

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!

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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!

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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?

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

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...

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

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...

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

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...?

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.