Argentina '06 - Livin' The Dream, Bro!

Chau, Adios, Sayonara, Arrivaderci, etc.

2006-10-11T10:05:00.000-07:00

"You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life, the facts of life."

That's the 80's sitcom jingle I was singing in my head as I polished off my final meal in Buenos Aires, and one of the best I´ve had on this seven-week adventure. Thinking I was ordering a steak sandwich (oops), I was instead presented with the Argentine version of meatloaf - including a hard-boiled egg in the center - accompanied by creamed spinach. It was all very rich and very delicious, and the complementary shot of limoncello at the end was just icing on the proverbial cake.

My most excelent lunch at Plaza España was the good, while the bad happened just an hour earlier when I somehow managed to lose my digital camera. Crap-tacular! It was a truly bizzare incident, and one only I am seemingly capable of. I snapped a picture of myself in front of the Plaza de Congreso, and then moved in for a more eXtreme close-up. When I reached into my backpack - less than a minute after taking the aforementioned photo - I noticed my trusty Fuji was not there, and frantically retraced my steps. Well, my camera was nowhere to be found on the ground. My only guess is that I had inadvertantly dropped it while placing it back in my bag, and the three little kids playing soccer nearby quickly pounced on the opportunity to own a FREE camera. I noticed they had left the plaza by the time I realized my blunder. Fortunately, virtually every photo from my vacation is stored safely within iPhoto on my laptop.

So, including my cell phone stolen a few weeks back, this has not exactly been a stellar trip in terms of electronics. Having seen just about everything I wanted to in Buenos Aires - and not wanting to risk parting with any more personal effects - I'm camping out here in an internet cafe in advance of my 5:00 p.m. taxi ride to Aeropuerto Ministro Pistarini (on a side note, its airport code is EZE, so I like to call it Eazy-E Memorial Airport...but I digress).

This would probably be a good time to reflect on my seven-week trip in whole, but am not feeling especially instrospective at the moment so I think I'll save that for when I´m bored sh·tless on the plane tonight, and blog once more when I´m back in LA. As for my return to Buenos Aires, the days (except for Sunday) were generally mellow, while I had a couple of big nights out. I did my fair share of souvenier shopping, with the crown jewel being a late-70's Sergio Tacchini warm-up jacket that's sky blue, red and gold, purchased for less than $12 US dollars! I also found some amazing pop culture knick-knacks which are nearly as old, however they are birthday gifts for readers of this blog and therefore unmentionable here.

Thankfully the LAN Argentina mechanics ended their strike Friday night, and I was able to fly back to BA on Saturday morning. I checked into the BA Stop Hostel, which I chose mainly out of convenience since it's a mere half a block from Paul and Clare's apartment, where my suitcase was being stored the previous two weeks. After telling them about my travels, they shocked me with an invitation to check out some big-time electronic music DJ, playing that night at the mega-club Pacha (which also has branches in London and Ibiza). I say shocked, because in the eight years I've known Paul, I never considered him the clubbing type.

So that night they cooked an excellent pasta dinner, and after several wine-and-coke cocktails (that's big here), we headed for Pacha - located on the banks of the Rio de la Plata - around 1:30 a.m. It was exactly as I had envisioned - a massive, multi-level venue where Buenos Aires' young and privliaged danced with a detached aloofness to repetitive, computer-driven beats (not my favorite genre of music, if you couldn't tell).

I lost Paul and Clare at various points throughout the evening, but all was good since seemingly half the people I had met on this trip were at Pacha on Saturday night. There were the three Australian brothers I hung out with just a few days earlier in Iguazu, Kym from Denmark who I played many games of ping-pong with in Salta (and who had played basketball briefly in the Danish Third Division!), as well as fellow distinguished IBL alumni Leroy from Brooklyn and Inga from Norway. Inga has some sort of connection at Pacha, and early in the evening offered to get me into the VIP section. I thought that would be one of those drunken promises that never comes to fruition, but sure enough the next time we crossed paths she greeted me with a coveted black wristband. I spent a good portion of the evening in this better-ventilated, slightly-less-crowded part of the club, hob-nobbing with an international assortment of electro-music fans, but at no point did I feel like a Very Important Person.

I tracked down my two American amigos slightly before sunrise, which we watched from the large patio, but shortly thereafter I suffered one of my bad-music-induced headaches (different from my usual headaches), and shared a cab back to the Microcentro with three guys staying at a nearby hostel. That ride added to the surreality of the evening; one of the guys happened to be from Santa Barbara, and was so beligirently drunk that he yelled "pinche cavron" at nearly every passing car. On top of that, our driver was a hard-core Boca Juniors fan, and when he realized we all spoke English instructed us to chant "RIVER GAY! RIVER GAY!" for a good two blocks of our journey. At 7:00 a.m., I couldn't get out of that cab soon enough...

Definitely a night to remember, but I didn't have much time to sleep it off since my shuttle ride to the Boca-River game was scheduled for 12:30 p.m. on Sunday. I investigated every avenue for buying tickets to the "SuperClasico", but the only option for foreigners is to pay a company an incredibly inflated price, which includes transportation and a chorizo sandwich. Like my two previous Argentine soccer experiences, I found myself in the rowdier "Popular" section, and sitting amongst River Plate fans, I had to go deep, deep undercover by rooting against my beloved Boca Juniors. I risked severe bodily injury otherwise. I was actually hoping for a tie - so that the River fans would not turn surly - but the home team won 3-1, ending Boca's unbeaten streak that extended back to last season. Despite the outcome, it was truly one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever attended, and worth every peso. The chanting, flares, banners and general fervor of Argentine soccer fans are without equal in the world. Out of rootless paranoia I decided to not bring my camera, but fortunately three European guys staying at my hostel all had theirs and they burned me a CD with tons of images and videos. They only tell half the story of what it was like to actually be there...

Monday and Tuesday were very low-key; I visited the barrio of San Telmo one day and then returned to my former 'hood, Palermo Viejo the next to take a stroll down memory lane. After seeing a good chunk of this city of 13 million, I definitely think I chose the best area to live in for a month. Last night there wasn't much going on at the BA Stop, so James the Brit and myself ventured over to the Millhouse - reputed to be BA's "party" hostel - where we met Naomi (who coincidentally was on his flight from London a few days earlier) and learned about a drum-and-bass night at nearby BarReign. The three of us headed there for yet another evening of Quilmes beer and thumping beats, but nonetheless a fun way to say farewell to this city's zany nightlife. I'm actually looking forward to resuming my sedentary life in LA, and listening to dance music made by black people, the way God intended it!

OK, on that note I'll end the longest blog of my trip and take one final stroll around this fascinating city. As they say here - in a weird Spanish/Italian hybrid - CHAU!!!

Travelin' Photos

2006-10-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it back to Buenos Aires at noon yesterday, and am now recovering from one of the craziest nights/mornings out of my life (details in next blog). Today I'm off to the "SuperClassico" - River Plate vs. Boca Juniors. There will be 100,000 fans and 1,100 police officers there, and I can't decide if that's a reassuring ratio or cause for concern. Keep your eye on Fox Soccer Channel, and if you see a riot, I'll definitely be right in the thick of it!

Here are 10 of the choicest photos from my two weeks of traveling in Northern Argentina. From top to bottom:
1) Classy waterfalls, classy point
2) Nuevo amigos Ben, Sam and Hass
3) Devil's Throat, in all its misty glory
4) "Hi, I'm a coati!"
5) I looked for the dark-skinned, Spanish-speaking leprechaun, but couldn't find him
6) The Sea Captain enjoyed his day at Iguazu Falls
7) Mercado in Tilcara; glad to see the King of Beers has branded itself in the Third World
8) Informative graffitti in Corrientes
9) Salta's Iglesia San Francisco looky purdee at night
10) My patented "American A$$hole" pose atop Salta

Trapped in the Tropics

2006-10-06T11:13:00.000-07:00

When I wrote out this blog entry by hand, I mentioned something about perhaps spending a little too much time in Puerto Iguazu, but I had no complaints because the Falls were all that and a bowl of Trix. Well, scratch all that - I will be spending WAY too much time in Puerto Iguazu, due to a mechanics' strike that has cancelled my LAN Argentina flight back to Buenos Aires this afternoon. Of course, every cloud has a silver lining, and as a result of the Pinko Commies and their work stoppage, I have been put up in the Hotel Cataratas - the town's only five-star property - and get a FREE dinner tonight as well. The good folks at LAN are fairly confident that the strike will end today and we'll be on a 10:00 a.m. flight back to BA tomorrow. Otherwise it's looking like another sleepless 15-hour bus ride. Good times!

I will now continue with my previously-written blog entry...

I arrived in the far northeast corner of Argentina at 6:00 a.m. Tuesday morning, which was a pleasant surprise since it was over an hour earlier than I anticipated. What was not pleasant was the bus I traveled on from Corrientes - a squeaky, antiquated, single-level coach operated by some company calling itself "Expresso Singer". Having zero interest in watching the bootlegged, sub-titled Vin Diesel movie they were screening, and unable to sleep, I attempted to read, but with the overhead lamps caked in years of soot and dirt, that wasn´t going to happen either.

Automotive inconveniences aside, I did make it to Puerto Iguazu, and checked into the Hostel Inn just as the sun appeared. By hostel standards, this place was a resort, with a ginormous swimming pool, hammocks and couch-filled common area. I slept for a couple hours, and despite my eagerness to see the Falls, decided that Tuesday wuld be better spent as a recooperation day from two straight nights of bus travel. I wandered the streets of Puerto Iguazu, ate lunch and tried in vain to remove the block Bank of America placed on my ATM card, a problem that would not be sorted out until two days later. I still haven´t determined if they were in fact protecting me from fraud, or if they´re just incompetent ass-clowns. Upon returning to the Hostel Inn, I finally got to swim some laps and met some of my fellow backpackers, including Sam from England and Hass from Wales who I made plans to visit Parque Nactional Iguazu with the next day.

My first reaction upon seeing Gargantua del Diablo (Devil´s Throat) - the biggest of the Falls - was "Holy Sh·tballs!" Imagine a near-deafening roar of water plunging into a giant hole in the Earth - which you cannot see the bottom of - all while being sprayed with a fine mist that feels fantabulous on your skin beneath the oppressive tropical sun. Despite being surrounded by geriatric tour groups and field-tripping kids vying for the best possible view, all of my natural-born cynicism dissapeared for for a solid 10 minutes as I stopped to appreciate what Momma Nature is capable of.

We then ventured to the Upper and Lower Trails of Parque Nacional Iguazu, which yield many more eXtreme close-ups of hundreds of waterfall. However, please don't get the impression that I was engaged in any sort of hard-core trekking here. Despite being in the middle of a dense jungle, virtually every trail is paved and hand-railed, and there's even a train to shuttle you around. On top of that, the lookout points have been specifically designed to allow every amateur photographer to take National Geographic-caliber shots. Despite the Argentines' attempt to create an Eco-Disneyland, you are still very much in the wild, as we encountered several varieties of large lizzards, countless colorful butterflies and this strange racoon/anteater hybrid thing called a coati.

After about six hours and four miles of walking through 85-degree heat and 90-percent humidity, Sam and I decided to call it a day while Hass opted for an expensive boat ride that takes you to the base of one of the Falls. Needless to say, I slept like a baby Wednesday night.

Thursday was supposed to be another action-packed day on the Brazilian side of the Falls, however I have the Bush Administration to thank for ruining all the fun. You see, a few years ago our government arbitrarily decided to start charging Brazilians an entry fee to visit the U.S., as well as fingerprint every man, woman and child who ventures to the BEST DAMN COUNTRY ON EARTH. In retaliation, Brazil instituted a $100 visa fee for Americans, but everything I had read before my trip indicated that they turn a blind eye if you just hop over the border on a day trip to view the Falls.

Well, within the past few weeks, they've gotten a lot stricter, as no fewer than three Hostel Inn employees told me in no uncertain terms that I'd need a visa (which needs to be applied for in the U.S.). That was a real downer, especially since I had negotiated an incredible fare with a cabbie to take Hass, myself and two other hostelers to the Brazilian side of the Falls, the city of Foz de Iguazu as well as Ciudad del Este in nearby Paraguay. So, not only did I miss the incredible panoramic views the Brazilian side affords, but I also missed the opportunity to add two more countries to my "I've Been There" list.

That left another day of down-time in Puerto Iguazu, which felt eerily like the first except for the spurts of torrential rain that you only get in the tropics. Also, I was finally able to withdraw enough cash to last me through the end of my trip. I never reached a point of desperation similar to when Devoe and I were down to 3 combined Euros during our trip to Ireland a few years ago, but I was definitely counting and conserving my pesos.

Well, please keep me in your thoughts and hope I make it back to BA tomorrow via plane. Expect one more blog post from Argentina, some photos, and then my triumphant return to LA on Oct. 12!!!

14 Hours Down, Nine to Go!

2006-10-02T13:24:00.001-07:00

Well, I have successfully completed the longer of my two marathon bus journies on my pilgrimage to Iguazu Falls. I left Salta at 6:00 p.m. last night and arrived in Corrientes at 7:45 in the a.m. following an all-night trip through some of the most unremarkable terrain on earth. The flat, virtually straight drive on Route Nacional 16 through El Chaco Province was broken up only by stops in some truly downtrodden farm towns. Lemmie tell ya, you can´t call yourself a seasoned world traveler until you´ve cruised through Taco Pazo and Roque Saenz Peña in the wee hours of the morning! The good folks at Flecha Bus also screened that bizzare movie "Domino" with Kiera Knightingly and a clearly bootlegged version of "Mission Impossible 3". I now hate Tom Cruise even more.

I had a seat on the top deck at the very front of the bus, which was simultaneously cool and a bit unnerving since I saw exactly what our driver was seeing. I got to check out how poorly maintained the two-lane road we were traveling on was, and I got to see us slow to a crawl as we passed ematiated cows and horses grazing on the shoulder. I´d imagine hitting them would leave quite a mess. Because the ride was so bumpy, both reading and sleeping proved futile and I was one unhappy camper by the end. The seats recline, but not to the point where you can get anywhere close to comfortable. On a positive note, I did get too see the sunrise for the first time in lord knows how long.

I decided to reward myself for enduring this miserable journey by checking into the Corrientes Plaza Hotel, a place I could never afford if it were in the USofA. I got some sleep, caught NFL highlights on the English-language edition of SportsCenter they show on ESPN Deportes, ate lunch at a McDonald´s ripoff called McColl´s and cruised through this hot and humid city of 350,000, located on the banks of the Rio Parana. The highlight of my stroll was watching a rather large toad hop up the steps of a local business, then being chased after by the owner´s dog. Thoroughly drenched in sweat, I returned to the hotel for more sleep this afternoon.

My nine-hour ride to Puerto Iguazu leaves at 9:50 tonight, and should be a breeze compared to what I already endured. I will arrive sometime between 7:30 and 8:00 tomorrow morning, about 38 hours after originally leaving Salta. Yikes! I´m sure it will all be worth it, since Iguazu Falls is supposed to be one of the most awesome spectacles on earth. I´ve heard from fellow travelers that the water level there getting back to normal after a few months of drought.

My last few days in Salta were mellow following Friday´s rafting trip on the Rio Jurmiento. The Class III rapids were not as raging as what I experienced in Costa Rica last year, but were still darn fun. We rafted through an amazing desert canyon, where the rocks were as multi-colored as I saw a few days earlier in Tilcara and wild horses drank on the river bank. I was put with two dudes from Washington DC and a couple (the wife German, the husband American) in the English-speaking boat, and our guide was Frank, a German ex-pat who moved to Argentina eight years ago. When we would get into the rapids, he would yell "keep paddling - this is not a vacation!!!". As an added bonus, Frank brought his dog Falcon on the boat, who seemed truly unphased by all the adventure and simply braced himself by draping himself over the seat.

I had originally planned on doing two hours of zip-lining that afternoon, but after seeing that the cables were suspended over 300 feet in the air, across a canyon 800 feet wide, I decided I was all good hanging out on terra firma. Having already paid for this adventure, I bartered with the good folks at Salta Rafting and instead received a CD containing photos of our rafting trip (they position a photographer at various points along the river) and a refund of 15 pesos. Below is my favorite photo from the trip; I spotted the cameraman and was able to execute my patented "Classy Point" despite being in the throws of a demanding eXtreme sport. For the record, I wasn´t wearing shortie-shorts; that´s just the by-product of intense and aggressive paddling:

Over the weekend, I fell into that "hanging out at the hostel" trap that every backpacker is bound to at some point. Countless games of ping-pong were played and I averaged about six e-mail checks per day. Fortunately, I met some really cool peeps - three gals who graduated from the University of Oregon a few years ago and three Israeli dudes who just completed their military service. I had heard South America is infested with Israeli backpoackers, and that they´re typically loud and rude (shocking!), but Yariv, Yotam and Dor were OK by me. They also forgot the exact date of Yom Kippur, so I don´t feel too bad about not fasting on the holiest day of the year for my people. On that note, I think I´ll continue attoning for my sins with some jamon-covered pizza!!!

Apologies for this rather uninspired blog; sleep and food depravation will do that to ya...

To the Boonies and Back

2006-09-28T12:36:00.000-07:00

As I write this, I am sitting on a bus headed back to civilization following a two-day trip to the most remote town I have ever visited. It´s called Tilcara, 7,500 feet high in the Andes, population 3,300 and less than 150 miles from the Bolivian border. Virtually every resident is indigenous and speaks Quechua, and the only the main road in town is paved. There also seems to be the highest per-capita population of mangey street dogs in the world; I resisted all urges to pet them.

The star attraction in this corner of the globe is the Quebrada (ravine) de Humahuaca, formed over millions of years by water, wind and various other elements, leaving multi-colored sediments along the way. It´s a bit reminiscent of the Grand Canyon, only slightly less grand and you look up at the crazy rock formations rather than down.

I arrived in Tilcara yesterday via a four-hour ride from Salta, disoriented, hungry and frankly a bit scared. However when I spotted the busload of field-tripping teenagers from Buenos Aires, I realized I wasn´t the only Gringo in town. I stumbled into Hostelria El Antigal where I was offered their last and most basic room, and after trying a bowl of locro - the hearty local stew - I was ready to explore the town. In less than three hours I visited the central plaza, the iglesia, archaeloigical museum and Pucara, the remains of a pre-Columbian village. As you might expect, there aren´t many entertainment options in Tilcara, but thankfully there were a few soccer games on TV, so I joined El Antigal proprietor Pablo and his buddies in the restaurant to enjoy the action.

Tilcara was actualy supposed to be the second stop of my adventure, since Paul had advised me to visit Purmamarca, an even boonier town 20 km closer, and take a walk arouind the Hill of Seven Colors. However, the bus stop for Purmamarca is actually 3 km outside of town in the middle of nothingness, and you´re supposed to flag down a taxi to take you the rest of the way. Well, I was the only passenger who got off at that stop, and with zero taxis and few people in sight, I had my second freak-out of the trip (see my previous post for the other). With visions of being abducted by a lonely mountain man dancing in my head, I flagged down the bus driver just as he was pulling away and mumbled something incoherent about making a mistake. When he seemed confused, I simply stated "No me gusta Purmamarca", and he let me back aboard. Red-faced, I returned to my seat...

I spent the early part of this week in sunny Salta, following a stress-free two hour flight from Buenos Aires on Sunday evening. The first person I met at the Terra Oculta youth hostel was Kim, an Indiana native who was living in San Francisco the past year and a half. She played soccer at Washington University in Saint Louis, and coincidentally her twin cousins were members of the UCSB golf team a few years back! We cruised around the city for a couple days, visiting several churches and taking a gondola ride to the top of a hill overlooking the entire region. Salta´s highlight is it´s Mercado Central, where you can purchase virtually every part of every farm animal, genuine "Adilad" sneakers and an entire large pízza for two US dollars! I finally feel like I´m in South America here, and have finally found spicy food, virtually unheard of in Buenos Aires.

After being spoiled with my own spacious apartment for a month, adjusting to hostel life has been tough, but I finally got a decent night´s sleep on my third night here. I am returning to the Terra Oculta until Sunday - which honestly is a little too much time in Salta - but am excited for tomorrow´s all-day rafting and canopy touring excursion with Salta Rafting. Although it´s the height of the dry season here, I´ve been assured that Class III rapids will be awaiting me. Having conquered a Class IV river in Costa Rica last year, I´m not too apprehensive.

Then Sunday evening is the bus journey I´ve been dreading for a while - 13 and a half hours from Salta to Corrientes on my way to Iguazu Falls. I will blog again following that arduous trek, provided my sanity is still in tact!!!

Final BA Photos

2006-09-24T11:31:00.000-07:00

This will be my final photo post for a while, since my laptop is safely stowed in Paul´s apartment and I won´t be able to resize pictures. So, for your viewing pleasure (I know these are outta order...I don´t wanna reload them, sorry):
1) Drink´n at the Hostal Colonial with (l-r) Boris from Germany, Frederico from Uruguay and Luas from Brazil. Frederico was a little amped since he had just returned from an Iggy Pop concert.

2) With IBL instructors Francisco...

3) ...and Nadia

4) Boca Juniors´most "special" fan

5) Some sort of promotional video shoot at La Bombanera. Some old guy told me who the players were, but I forgot.

Buenos Aires: A Retrospective

2006-09-23T14:27:00.000-07:00

Well, a month has truly flown by and I’m down to my final night of pretending to be a resident of Buenos Aires. Although I will return for five days at the end of my trip (more on that later), it’s probably a good time to reflect on what life was like here. First off – and this is gonna sound lame – I can’t tell you how enjoyable it was to establish a routine in a foreign city. I bought some sort of breakfast pasrty almost every day at the panaderia down the street, hollered “¿que tal?” at Carlo who runs the nearby sandwich stand, exchanged pleasantries as best I could with Alicia my building manager and rode the usually-crowded Subte downtown every weekday to learn Spanish.

As you might be able to tell I have always been a creature of habit, but one of those I was able to break was my rigid eating schedule. No more making fun of Ben for wanting to go out to dinner at 6:00 p.m.! I have trained myself to dine as the Argentines dine, with dinner at 9:00 p.m. or later. You don’t really have much of a choice, since most restaurants don’t open before 8:00. I’ve learned the trick to holding out is a piece of fruit or cheapo hot dog (called a pancho) around 5:00.

As far as the people go, most are hospitable, gregarious and extremely patient while trying to explain things to me en Espanol. Today I even had a woman offer to put me in touch with her son who spends half the year working in Aspen. The women are definitely friendlier than the men, which is just fine by me. You can definitely tell that a lot of people are of Italian ancestry, since there are a lot of expressive hand gestures here.

As far as my four weeks of Spanish class are concerned, I have mixed feelings. I didn’t have delusions of becoming anywhere close to fluent in such a short amount of time, but thought my language skills would be a bit more advanced than they are. Although my vocabulary and verb conjugation abilities have definitely expanded, I sometimes ask people to speak to me as they would a five year old child – as slowly and simply as possible. I was more than happy with the instruction I received at the International Bureau of Language; their lessons were structured very rationally and their teachers are really helpful. The onus was on me to put in extra time after class, and between my excursions around town, eat’n and drink’n, e-mailing and blogging, and of course the requisite siestas, I seemed to let studying Spanish fall by the wayside. I have vowed to invest in a set of CD’s I can listen to in the car when I get back home so that I can try to build on what I’ve learned here.

I don’t think there will be any sort of grand sendoff from BA, as three consecutive nights out that ended at 3, 2 and 5:00 a.m. respectively have zapped me of any desire for revelry. The highlight was Wednesday when I made a return trip to Opera Bay with a group of IBLers and met the lovely Laura, a communications student here who also works an outsourced job for Bell South, trying to sell DSL service to toothless hicks. Talk about your thankless jobs! I asked her to go through her sales pitch, and I pretended to be Joe-Bob Wilson from Birmingham, Alabama. We totally hit it off, and why I did not ask her out will remain one of life’s great mysteries…

Then Thursday night I made my third and final visit to La Virtua Tango at the Armenian Cultural Center, and brought fellow Spanish student Avi from Chicago as well as Andrew the Kiwi, who I met Monday at the all-you-can-eat buffet near my place (I love the random encounters you have with fellow tourists). At the tango lesson, we ran into one of my IBL instructors, Francisco, who was there with his girlfriend and some chums. I thought that was a cool coincidence, especially since there are 13 million people here. Andrew and Avi both had a good time and vowed to return, and I was proud of myself for playing tour guide in a city I barely know myself.

As for the change in travel plans foreshadowed in Monday’s blog post, they have come to fruition. On the ferry ride back from Colonia last Sunday, I broke out my trusty Lonely Planet guidebook and had a minor freakout when I realized just how vast the distances were between the cities I planned to visit; that’s not even taking into consideration excursions from them. So, grudgingly, I have decided to cut Mendoza and Cordoba out of the trip, which thus eliminates bus rides of 18, 10 and 20 hours in length. So, as it stands now, all I have is one massive 22 hour trip between Salta and Iguazu Falls, which I plan to break up by spending a night in a city midway between the two. I’m basically cutting out a week of traveling, so I moved my return flight up one week and will now be back in LA on Oct. 12, hopefully ready to face reality!

One benefit of the abbreviated itinerary is that I will now be back in Buenos Aires for the “Super Classico” match between Boca Juniors and River Plate on Oct. 8,, which is pretty much the equivalent of the Super Bowl in this country. Tickets might be a bit pricey, but I think it will be worth attending if only to be amongst 100,000 screaming, singing people who all consider the outcome more important than ending world hunger.

OK, off to Salta tomorrow evening. If you see a news story about an Andes Airlines flight crashing, that will definitely be mine since they only have ONE PLANE!!!

Uruguay, Opera Bay and Shopping(ay)

2006-09-18T16:21:00.000-07:00

Remember that old “Wayne’s World” sketch where they stand in front of various backdrops such as Paris and New York and pretend to be from those places, then when images of Delaware pop up they have nothing to say except “OK, we’re in Delaware”?

Well, I had the exact same reaction yesterday after stepping off the Buquebus ferry in Colonia. I took one look around the non-descript port area and declared to nobody in particular “OK, I guess I’m in Uruguay.” I followed the tourist hoard to the nearby old town, which has by far the most cobbled streets of any place I’ve ever visited. I’m only somewhat gimpy, and walking around was a bit challenging; I can only imagine what the elderly must deal with there.

After an overpriced and underwhelming lunch, I rented a scooter for an hour, which now holds the title of “Best Thing I’ve Done on this Vacation.” I spent an hour cruising around the non-cobbled streets of the new town, which were eerily devoid of traffic (I guess it’s a Sunday thing). Then I followed the coastal road for a couple kilometers, cranking the accelerator as far as it would go, but had no idea of how fast I was traveling since the speedometer was broken. Grand total for an hour of vehicular fun? A whopping $5 US Dollars (or 115 Uruguayan Pesos, the most inflated currency I’ve ever had to deal with).

Like Teatro Colon last week, I got the gist of Colonia pretty quickly, and had plenty of time to kill until my 9:00 p.m. ferry back to Buenos Aires. I climbed to the top of the lighthouse, relaxed on the waterfront, checked my e-mail and fantasy football score, and took in one of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve ever witnessed (see below). Most of the day trippers were on the 5:30 boat, and after their departure the locals reclaimed their streets; I estimated 90% of them were sipping mate (Uruguayans drink even more mate than Argentines, something I didn’t think was possible). Thoroughly exhausted, I eventually got back to my apartment about 11:00 p.m.

The trip to Colonia was worth taking solely for the incredibly comical English-language translations of advertisements in the city’s tourism brochure. This was my favorite, for a restaurant called Café Tujika:

“The place is particularly magical. Outside, tables facing the river and city. Inside, concentrated aromas, ancestral meals. Fusion food. Vegetables shine here.”

You can’t make that kind of stuff up, folks! I desperately wanted to patronize this establishment – and see if it was in fact necessary to wear sunglasses while looking at the vegetables – but sadly Café Tijuka is closed on Sundays…

Colonia was the cap to an entertaining weekend that began with a congregation of IBL students at a bar called The Shamrock on Friday evening. With a 2-for-1 Happy Hour lasting until midnight the atmosphere quickly turned convivial, and around 1:30 a.m. I found myself in a taxi with my two Brazilian buddies Lucas and Victor, a statuesque German girl named Nicole and Avi from Chicago. We were headed for Opera Bay, the most mega of the city’s mega clubs. Still being early by Argentine clubbing standards, we waltzed right in without a wait and had our pick of five rooms with different music, although at some point 80’s tunes were played in each of them. It was my first-ever experience at an enormous dance venue and while I had a good time, at 5:00 a.m. the thumping electronica was too much for my ears to handle and Avi and I split a cab back to Palermo. There was STILL a line to get in when we left.

In my advanced age I needed a good part of Saturday to recover, but made it to the shops along Avendia Santa Fe to find a replacement for my black jacket that was maliciously stolen last Thursday. Although what I bought will suffice, there will always be a soft spot in my heart for my velour friend. However, my spirits were lifted when I came across a store selling an odd assortment of American sports apparel, most of it from the previous millennium. Hiding behind a Cal Ripken bobblehead doll, I spotted a leather LOS ANGELES Raiders luggage tag in its original packaging, with a copyright date of 1987!!! I eagerly forked over the 15 pesos, and when the clerk tried to sell me on a similar product from the Kansas City Chiefs, I let out a hearty laugh. After explaining that the Raiders-Chiefs rivalry is akin to Boca Juniors vs. River Plate, she understood and put the offending item away.

Having taken up a solid three minutes of your life with this drivel, I will say thanks for reading and farewell. Stay tuned later this week for news of a potential change in my upcoming travel plans. Ooooooh, the suspense!!!

Pizznictures!!!

2006-09-18T15:48:00.000-07:00

You know the drill by now...
1) Safety first!
2) This one writes itself
3) La Iglesia en Colonia
4) Playful buddies in Colonia
5) Proof that I have visited Uruguay
6) BA dissapears across the Rio de la Plata
7) Who???
8) Best souvenir EVER!!!

Coping with Loss

2006-09-15T16:17:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I’ve done a fair bit of traveling in my day – 16 countries spanning five continents, to be exact. Up until this week, I’d never had anything stolen while on the road, except perhaps my dignity of a few occasions. Well, Murphy’s Law must be in full effect, because on consecutive days two valuable possessions were snatched from my possession….

I knew Wednesday would be a crappy day when I locked my keys inside my apartment that morning, and had to wait until 8:30 p.m. for the owner to let me in after he got off work (why my rental company doesn’t keep a spare set a bit puzzling). Well, that afternoon while waiting for a subway, a Catholic schoolgirl came up to me and said the outside compartment of my backpack was open. I took a quick inventory of the contents, and found my Motorola ROKR was missing. It’s my cell phone back home, and I only had it with me because it holds 100 songs – my lone source of portable music on this trip. I think I was robbed while waiting to cross Avendia de Julio – allegedly the widest street in the world – where there was a throng of densly-packed pedestrians at the intersection.

Then, last night, my beloved black velour warm-up jacket – designed by Devoe – was snatched off a hook at an Irish pub downtown. I searched high and low, had a native Spanish speaker ask the bartender if it was turned in, but it was long gone. That was actually a bigger bummer than the cell phone. Fortunately, last night was a warm one and I didn’t freeze out on the streets afterwards.

Besides the two thefts, and staying up late Monday to watch my Oakland Raiders play perhaps the WORST game in NFL history, this has been a decent week. I was at the aforementioned Irish pub because I had joined IBL comrade John at his hostel downtown, and one of the women working there (Carla) led a field trip to see her favorite cover band perform. As is usually the case with group outings from hostels, we were a motley crew – there were two Germans, a San Franciscan who now lives in Paraguay and does English-Japanese translations, a flamboyantly gay Argentine-Dutch guy, Carla’s boyfriend “Nacho” and me, the pork-eating American Jew. The music was Rock en Español, which I couldn’t understand, so instead John and I watched Boca Juniors’ victory over Sao Paolo in the Recopa Sudamericana finals. Viva Boca!

Yesterday afternoon I took an hour-long tour of Teatro Colon, one of the world’s most opulent concert halls and rumored to have near-perfect acoustics. It really was an impressive building, but I’m not sure how many more guided tours I’ll take on this trip; despite being a simpleton, I tend to get the gist of places pretty quickly. On Tuesday, I spent a couple hours at the Buenos Aires Zoo, a trip that produced a few quality photos that will be shared soon.

As far as Spanish class goes, this week I switched from group to individual lessons, and it was definitely the right move. For starters, instead of being at IBL from 10 to 3 every day, I only have two hours of instruction from 3 to 5. In addition, I get a lot more practice conversing and listening to audio, which has been a big problem thus far (they speak too damn fast on the recordings). IBL bounced me around among three different instructors this week (Nadia, Francisco and Natalia) but since they were all extremely competent and patient, I didn’t have a problem with that. I think I finally made some breakthroughs this week, as I can now flow freely between verb tenses and enjoyed some simple-yet-comprehensible conversations with people on the street. I’ve got one more week of classes, and then it’s up to me to further my Español if I so choose.

This week I also made some travel plans. On Sunday I’m gonna take a ferry 45 miles across the Rio de la Plata to Colonia, Uruguay, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. While I’m sure it’s a lovely town, to be honest my main motivation for this daytrip is so that I can check Uruguay off the list of countries I need to visit. I don’t think I’d have another reason to get there otherwise.

The following Sunday, September 24, is the day I’m scheduled to vacate my apartment and begin the actual traveling portion of my trip. That evening I’m flying to Salta, two hours away in the Andean northwest part of the country. I’ve been told it feels like an entirely different world from Europeanized Buenos Aires, and a good base to take trips into the mountains. From Salta I’m bussing south to the cities of Cordoba and Mendoza, will eventually make it to Iguazu Falls in the northeast and then fly home from BA on October 18. This is a big country, and I’ll be taking a lot of looooong bus rides around it, so I may need to invest in an iPod Shuffle or similar device in order to help maintain my sanity.

Oh how I miss thou, Motorola ROKR…Hopefully some teenager in the ghetto is enjoying all the Too $hort and Outkast songs I uploaded!!!

P.S. - Sorry for going link-happy in this post...just seemed like the thing to do!

B-I-N-G-O!

2006-09-10T11:51:00.000-07:00

Apologies for my longest blog inactivity since this thing began, but my week ended on a high note following a relatively uneventful start. The good times commenced Thursday, which I proclaimed my “Day To Be An Unapologetic American”. That morning I donned my socks embroidered with the Stars & Stripes and the word “SPORTS” that Devoe found for me in Hong Kong. For lunch I consumed a footlong turkey sandwich at Subway (accompanied by a LARGE soda with ICE), and later took advantage of the free golf lesson offered by IBL at the pro shop atop our building. That evening I made my way to the only bar in town that would be screening this season’s inaugural NFL game between the Steelers and Dolphins, perplexingly named Shoeless Joe’s Alamo. I guess those were the most uniquely American terms the owner could think of. It seemed every Yank in BA was there to hoot and hollar at the small TV’s (which get their signal from the States via Slingbox…pretty crafty), but all I cared about was watching my beloved Ronnie Brown who graciously scored a pair of touchdowns for Da Bumbles. I enjoyed comparing fantasy football rosters with fellow ex-pats, but had to leave before the game was over since the cigarette smoke was so thick that I found myself coughing incessantly.

After class Friday, I reluctantly traveled back into the Microcentro for a second straight week of tango lessons, but it proved to be one of the best decisions of my vacation. There were about 16 IBL students in attendance – an equal ratio of guys to gals – and switching dance partners every few minutes proved to be a great ice-breaker. Afterwards a group of five of us ate dinner at a pasta restaurant, and when we spent a good five minutes debating how to best translate ¨rub one out¨ into Spanish, I knew it was a good group.

We then met up with a couple more IBLers at Club Azucar, a salsa venue which “bordered on tacky” as my Timeout guidebook accurately described it but provided for a fun evening. Lucas from Brazil and I spent a bulk of the night chatting and dancing as best we could with two local gals named Cynthia and Natalie, but after they told us they both had novios (boyfriends) I realized the only thing I would get out of the evening was an opportunity to hone my Spanish skills. They were both very sweet and very patient with my limited vocabulary. The evening’s grand total for a meal in a sit-down restaurant, club cover charge, an endless flow of cerveza and cab ride home? A whopping $16 US dollars!

Despite getting home a few minutes before 4:00 a.m., I was able to rally Saturday for a trip to Tigre, about 45 minutes north via train. What a difference a week makes; last Saturday’s bone-chilling cold and gale-force winds were replaced by cloudless skies and t-shirt weather. I bought a ticket for a one-hour tour of the Delta, a series of over 6,000 kilometers of canals accessible only by boat, where many people make there home and vacation. The tour was given only in Spanish so I can’t share many more details of what life is like there, but I’m going to try and return to Tigre another time and rent a kayak.

Last night, I met up with most of the people I spent Friday with for another fun-filled – albeit more sedate – evening. Mike from Colorado – who has been traveling the world with his girlfriend Jenny for the past 14 months (yes, you read that correct) – suggested we visit BA’s biggest bingo parlor, which provided by far the most ridiculous experience of my nearly three-week old trip. The numbers are announced in rapid-fire delivery, and between games there is a bizarre light show accompanied by early-90’s house music. It took a while to get the hang of things, but I left with a vastly improved ability to count in Spanish. I think Francinie from Brazil came the closest to winning a game – she was two numbers away from yelling BINGO! It would have earned her approximately $60 US dollars.

We then walked down bustling Calle Lavalle looking for a place to eat, and would up at La Estancia around 11:00 p.m. just in time for their dinner show. It was an ultra-hokey song-and-dance performance spanning the breadth of Argentine culture, from the ubiquitous tango to some sort of Andean music. We ordered the parilla (mixed grill) intended for three people, but the five of us could not polish it off. Among the sizzking carnage brought to our table was suckling pig, short ribs, goat and the more traditional chorizo and pollo.

Then, at the suggestion of James from London, we searched for a jazz club, and wound up at a hip place in Palermo called Thelonious, but with a set list that included Outkast and Nelly, I don’t think it was the type of joint he was hoping for. I enjoyed talking to Mike about his adventures in some of the least-touristed countries on the planet. After starting in Southeast Asia, they ventured to India (including disputed Kashmir), Pakistan (including the border area with Afghanistan) and then overland down through East Africa with stops in Rwanda, Burundi and even SUDAN. He claims they have been welcomed with open arms at every stop, including nations where “Death to America” is a daily mantra. Despite his reassurances, there is no way in hell I would travel to 90% of the places they’ve been to over the last 14 months. I hope Mike doesn’t mind me sharing the link to his blog, but it’s mikelane.blogspot.com.

Well, at this point I was going to list the highs and lows of my two-plus weeks in Buenos Aires, but have rambled on long enough and need to call mom, eat lunch, book my flight to Salta on Sept. 24 and take advantage of yet another glorious day with a stroll in the park. I may head back to Shoeless Joe’s to watch more NFL football this evening, but I sincerely worry about the health of my lungs if I spend too much time there.

Photastic!

2006-09-10T11:23:00.000-07:00

OK, another set of eight quality photos. In this order:
1) Yours truly, Jenny and Mike from Colorado, James the Brit and Francini from Brazil (l-r) outside the bingo parlor
2) My Level 2 Spanish class, minus the two conspicuously absent Germans. Valeria and Diogo from Brazil, Barbara our instructor, Jon from London and me (l-r). Not surprisingly, Barbara is dancing. Diogo, coincidentally, spent his senior year of high school at Santa Barbara High!
3) A typical house on the Delta near Tigre.
4) Mi nuevo buddy in Tigre.
5) IBL students practicing their putting
6) Marco the golf pro analyzed my swing.
7) Cool outdoor mural at the MALBA.
8) One of the two pictures I snapped at the Boca Juniors game before a guy advised me to put my camera away.

R.I.P., Crocodile Hunter

2006-09-04T13:36:00.000-07:00

Another week, another set of linguistic challenges at the International Bureau of Language, where I have matriculated to Level 2. I’ve got two new instructors; the very serious yet thorough Martin in the morning followed by two hours in the afternoon with Barbara, perhaps the most vivacious little thang ever. She seems to turn every definition into a game of charades! Valeria, Julia and I have been joined by a trio of new classmates – Mattias from Germany, Diago from Brazil and John from London. So, I am no longer the only boy nor the slowest learner, although I’ll refrain from outing the most “special” student in our class. With a group of six, we moved at a slower pace today, which is helpful while learning difficult concepts but frustrating when I actually understand something right off the bat.

The weekend was a nice combination of activities and relaxation, beginning with my IBL-sponsored Tango lesson Friday night. This time around I actually picked up the most basic dance step, and was asked to practice with all six female students since I was the only dude in attendance! The tango class was mere blocks from Paul’s apartment, and I ran there through a driving rainstorm to eat leftover fajitas, which were much-needed in this city where it’s nearly impossible to find any sort of spicy food. Paul and I then headed back to my neighborhood, Palermo Viejo, for beers at a couple bars he likes, and parted ways around 2:00 a.m.

On Saturday, Julia the German and I had intended to take an hour-long train ride to Tigre and explore the delta of the Rio de la Plata, but it was just too damn cold and windy. That trip will have to wait for another weekend. Instead I took things easy, checking out the MALBA, a museum featuring modern Latin American art, and doing research for that evening’s fantasy football draft, which produced a team I think can compete for the Kill Whitey Football League title in 2006. After moderating the draft via Yahoo! Messenger for nearly FOUR HOURS, I was in no mood to go out and spent that night cooking copious amounts of spaghetti. Considering I can eat much better pasta in a restaurant here for about $4, there is really no reason to slave away in my tiny, antiquated kitchen using ingredients that totaled $2.

Sunday saw another mellow morning, during which I discovered Mark’s Coffehouse and Deli which is strikingly similar to Doughboy’s in LA and has perhaps the best lemonade ever. Who woulda thunk it? That afternoon I was supposed to attend the Boca Juniors-Estuiantes match with Paul, however he opted out since he starts a full-time translation job Tuesday and needed to take care of some things. So, for the second straight Sunday I headed to a soccer game alone but public transportation proved to be my savior! I followed three Argentines from the subte to the proper bus for La Boca, where I met two fellow English speakers also headed to the stadium. So, Dave from Ireland and John from England (different than the aforementioned John) negotiated with a scalper for three tickets which – much to our relief – were NOT counterfeit and got us into the standing room-only “popular” section. The scene at La Bombanera stadium was much rowdier than last Sunday’s game, with constant singing and drum-beating and the pervasive odor of weed throughout the stands. I had snapped a few pictures of the action before an Argentine who now lives in Chicago advised me to put my camera away. He also warned me against venturing into the bathroom at halftime.

Boca won 2-0, but unfortunately I missed their second goal since a banner overhanging our section obstructed my view of the opposite end of the field! After comparing and contrasting Buenos Aires’ two big futbol rivals – Boca Juniors and River Plate – I can proudly declare myself a Boca fan, since those folks clearly have more a lot more fun at their games! I may return to La Bombanera on Thursday night when Boca plays Sao Paulo of Brazil in a Copa Sudamericana match.

On that note, I will end yet another way-too-detailed blog post. Please let me know if I’m boring you people to tears…

More Photos for All Y´All

2006-09-02T10:13:00.000-07:00

With my day-trip to the delta town of Tigre postponed due to the sub-50 degree temps and blustery winds, I am taking things easy today in advance of my big fantasy football draft this evening. Below are some more photos, unfortunately not totally sequential like my last post. In general order, top-to-bottom:

1) Tango lessons at the Armenian Cultural Center...a definite junior high school dance vibe there.
2) From left to right Jack, Andy, Siran from Norway, Manon from Holland and yours truly. Jack and I may be the only two non-smokers in this city.
3) Reppin´the Recoleta Cemetary
4) Crowd at the River Plate-Argentinos Juniors game last Sunday
5) A Sports Illustrated-worthy shot of the field
6) Reassuring sight outside Estadio Municipal
7) The intersection of Corpse Blvd. and Undertaker Ave.
8) Please bury me beneath Gregian columns as well

The Forbidden Dance...

2006-08-31T17:28:00.000-07:00

…Oh wait, that’s the lambada; it’s so easy to get these sultry Latin American dance moves confused. I’m talking about the tango, which borders on a national obsession here in Argentina. I really had no idea what this phenomenon was all about until last night, when I was invited by Jack the Brit and Andy the Canuck for a tango lesson and demonstration held at – of all places – the Armenian Cultural Center. Apparently it’s the place to be in Palermo on a Wednesday night, as over 200 tango neophytes cram into the basement restaurant/bar area for a crash course. After fumbling my way through the instructions in Spanish, I found myself paired up with a cute little Porteño named Sol, who thankfully spoke English and was very patient with me…at first. However, after stepping on her toes a few too many times, I apologized profusely and suggested she find a different partner. Eventually, my two left feet became too much of a burden for her and we parted ways.

When a new, more complex dance step was introduced, I elected to sit on the sidelines and just observe the action, taking notes for my next tango lesson, which will occur tomorrow evening at a different locale. One of the perks of being an International Bureau of Language student…

While I caught a glimpse of Argentine culture, Buenos Aires is about to get a heavy dose of mine as this week marks the opening of the city’s first Hooters restaurant!!! While cruising through the Puerto Madero area Tuesday, I noticed a bunch of balloons, and then the famously-tacky owl logo. I approached the building with pride and an eagerness to see what an Argentine Hooters’ girl looked like, only to be greeted by an enthusiastic manager-type person telling me “manaña!” Puerto Madero was my post-class excursion Tuesday, which in the proud tradition of Fisherman’s Wharf and Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, is a once-derelict waterfront area revitalized by soulless American chain establishments. If you don’t get your fill of chicken wings at Hooters, simply walk 100 meters down the dock to TGI Friday’s where they’re bound to have a knock-down appetizer platter.

After class yesterday I took the subte to the famous Recoleta Cemetery, the final resting place for the country’s richest and/or most distinguished citizens. The coffins are housed in extremely elaborate mausoleums, some the size of small, multi-level houses! There were a few too many tourists for the place to feel eerie, and the most disturbing aspect was the gang of feral cats that roam the grounds and give you menacing glares.

As for my Spanish course itself, there is so much new information presented each session that I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. Julia the German and me are clearly the laggards, since both Celine the Parisian and Valeria the Brazilian are already fluent in one of the Romance languages. Thus far I’ve alternated good and bad days – Monday was getting acclimated to the teaching style, Tuesday gave me confidence, Wednesday was a huge step back and I think my brain ceased functioning completely by the last hour, and today felt more manageable. Among the areas we’ve covered so far are how to give directions, how to describe the weather, identifying clothing and parts of the body, when to use “hay” and “estar” and much, much more. One thing throwing me off a bit is the different pronunciations Argentines use from the rest of the Spanish-speaking world. For example, instead of saying “calle” here it’s “ca-she”. I have to stop and correct myself repeatedly, but thankfully people understand you either way. It’s not like I have any chance of assimilating over the next three weeks here, but I can try.
Proving that I’m an outsider, I’ll finish this post up with more observations of Buenos Aires culture:

- My new favorite TV show comes on in the late afternoon, when two Muppet-looking creatures of indistinguishable species announce numbers in some sort of lottery/bingo game.

- Speaking of TV, they love “The Simpsons” here, which is all good by me. Reruns dubbed in Spanish are on all the time, there are numerous candy products for sale bearing Homer and Bart on the packaging and even a hot dog stand named Pancheria Barney, with Springfield’s legendary drunk painted on the wall inside.

- Much as I found in Italy, merchants here are incredibly reluctant to make change for purchases. If I buy something for $4.30 and hand them a $5, I get a look of disgust and some mumbled unpleasantries. I’ve learned to guard coins with my life and only part with them when absolutely necessary.

- Swimming laps here is an ordeal. Today I bought a day pass at a gym, and needed a quick medical exam by their on-staff nurse, then rent flip-flops and a cap, then dip my feet in some sort of antiseptic solution, then hang my towel in a designated area before finally being allowed in the pool. I think walking will have to suffice as my only form of exercise here…

- There are many dipping sauces I must try here before my departure if I am to live up to my title as The Condiment King. Most intriguing is one called “salsa golf”, which I have yet to experiment with. Looks 1,000 Island-ish in color and consistency.

- A lot of males in this city have a long, horse-like facial structure, and the faux-hawk hairstyle is extremely popular.

Viaje del Autobus, Futbol, y Escuela

2006-08-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

Well, it´s been over half an hour since I finished dinner at an eight-peso all-you can eat buffet (that´s $2.66 to you and me, folks) and I have yet to become violently ill, so I guess that´s a good sign.

Other than take advantage of South America´s best bargains, I have kept myself pretty busy in BA. Admittedly, the weekend was a bit lonely, aside from Saturday night when an Argentine hipster started messing with me at a bar where I had dinner, telling me that nobody in Buenos Aires wears Adidas (my preferred brand) and imploring me to kiss his buddy on the cheek. I think they were using me to pick up on some chicas seated nearby. Earlier that day I had my first conversation with a real Argentine, a graphic artist named Luis Roberto who helped me navigate the complex bus network.

I took the bus to the meeting point for my FREE three-hour city tour that the apartment rental company hooked me up with. I´m not a big bus tour guy, but figured it would be a good way to orient myself in this sprawling city. I was joined by a group of 10 or so Buffalo, New York residents who were in Argentina on a church trip to teach English (gotta civilize them savages, right?). They provided perhaps the highlight of the tour after our guide announced we were passing the famous opera house. One of them asked – and I sh#t you not - ¨wow, Oprah has a house here?¨ And Americans get a bad rap internationally because WHY?????

Yesterday I walked around BA´s equivalent of Central Park (stopping at the Japanese Gardens) and had then resigned myself to attending that evening´s River Plate-Argentinos Juniors game by myself. Given what I had read about the fervor of Argentine futbol fans - and by fervor I mean ¨tendency to riot¨ - I was a bit apprehensive about this solo outing, but got assurances from the fellow at the neighborhood video store that all would be OK as long as I didn´t wear Argentinos Juniors colors (red).

Well, while waiting for the bus to the stadium, I overheard three guys speaking English, and when one of them mentioned soccer, I interjected and asked if they were headed to the game. They were, and so I joined Andy the Canuck, Rasmus the Dane and Jack the Brit for the evening´s festivities. I was planning buy a ticket in the calmer ¨platea¨section, but was convinced by these guys that it was more fun in the cheaper ¨popular¨section, where fans stand and sing the whole game. Surprisingly, it was not all that rowdy, probably helped by the fact we were surrounded by small children who only seemed interested in throwing confetti all night. River Plate won 2-0, and the only sketchiness occurred after the game when we filed out like sardines and a guy was definitely trying to feel my back pocket for a wallet. Either that or he was looking for a new special friend. Thankfully I had the good sense to zip up my valuables in my jacket…

After the game, we were joined by some of Rasmus´ schoolmates (he´s an exchange student) at a nearby bar, where our multi-national group included two Frenchies, another Brit, five Mexicans and one actual Argentine! The aforementioned trio I attended the game with all reside in my neighborhood, so I´m sure I´ll meet up with them again soon.

I had to cut out early since today was my first day of formal education in over seven years! I arrived at the International Bureau of Language around 10:00 and met my Level 1 classmates – Celine the French Lawyer, Julia the German Physical Therapist, Valeria the Brazilian Trophy Wife and Sarah the Aussie (who´s story I didn´t get because she was only with us for the second session). Yup, I´m the only guy, but not the only one who decided to travel abroad while in between jobs – the two European gals are in the same boat.

I have two instructors – Francisco in the morning and Cynthia in the afternoon – and both are very good and very patient. English is spoken only in moments of extreme desperation, and I think that´s a very smart teaching method. I´m curious to see how much Spanish I´m capable of learning in the next month!

I guess that brings things up-to-date, and a half-hour after starting this blog I can report no symptoms of food poisoning! Looks like I´m in the clear!!!

Photo Post...Hopefully

2006-08-28T17:57:00.000-07:00

OK, after about five unsuccessful attempts, I´ve finally uploaded some photos! Here´s what you´re looking at, left-to-right, top to bottom:
1) The BuddyMobile
2) Reppin´the Presidential Office Complex
3) Not a clue...
4) Some fellow named Jesus and I
5) A Boca Juniors mural in La Boca (go figure)
6) This guy performs fancy futbol footwork in front of stopped cars for loose change.
7) The old-timey elevator in my building.
8) A mechanical flower that opens and closes depending on the weather. Saturday was cold and gloomy.

From Florida to Calle Florida

2006-08-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

I´ve been in Buenos Aires for about a day and a half now, and I guess the best way to sum this place up is SENSORY OVERLOAD!!! Given that there are 13 million people here, and I recently read that BA is the fourth-loudest city in the world, I have no idea why I expected it to be all quaint cobblestone streets and relaxing sidewalk cafes. I guess I took the characterization of this city as ¨the most European place in Latin America¨ a bit too literally. The reality is that Buenos Aires is crowded, chaotic and dirty but downright exciting. I´m looking forward to learning how to navigate this urban jungle in my month of living here. I guess I can already pass for a Porteño (what residents call themselves), since I have already been stopped twice by people askng for directions. Or perhaps that was just a diversion in an attempt to rob me...

So many impressions running through my feeble mind, so I think I´ll take the lazy way out and just list them:

- Buenos Aires is an cheap as advertised. Thusfar I´ve had three full meals in restaurants (one more of a quick service place) for a grand total of $13. Then this afternoon I treated myself to a low-grade hot dog and scoop of ice cream, which totalled approximately 88 cents! For those of you who say I´m too skinny, I will return to LA a more rotund man.

- This city has perhaps the most dilapidated sidewalks of any city I´ve ever visited. Uneven surfaces, giant gaps, randomly-placed loose slabs of concrete and dog turd galore. I guess in times of economic crisis, public works are the first sacrifice.

- Mark my words...I WILL get hit by a car sometime in the next 30 days. Please pray that it´s a small and slow-moving vehicle.

- After spending the past 16 months in the States - the land of Walmart and Target - I had totally forgotten about the concept of the small, specialized, privately-owned store. You want bread? Go to the panaderia. You want a broom? Go to the kitchen supply store. Earlier today, while walking to my friend Paul´s apartment, I passed one street where every store seemed to sell car stereos, another with only jewlery, and a third where every shop was a watch store. I named these Car Stereo Street, Jewlery Street and Watch Street.

- I am already addicted to dulce de leche, this creamy-caremel spread with the consistency of Nutella that Argentines eat by the pound.

- Lots of people have dogs here (responsible for the aforementioned poo). I like that. Still need to learn how to say ¨buddy¨en Espanol.

- Yes, the women here are generally beautiful, but like anywhere you have your fair share of gargoyles. All seem to walk with this hip, disengaged aloofness. Yesterday I observed a fat teenage boy snort like a pig at an average-sized, pretty girl, which I found incredibly ironic.

OK, now for a quick recap of how I´ve spent my two days here, because at 33 cents per hour, I can´t afford to stay in this internet cafe all night...

After my sleepless 8-hous flight and cab ride from the airport, I was met outside my apartment buiding by Alberto from the rental agency, a nice fellow who spoke perfect English. The place is exactly as advertised on their website, albeit a bit smaller in person. It will do the job for a month. I am on the seventh floor, and need to take an old-school elevator that has a pair of accordion doors I must open manually. You see every floor pass as you travel up and down. I am no longer scared of it, and thankfully the thing moves pretty quickly. I ALWAYS seem to press the first floor when I really need the ground floor, and instead of pressing the button again, my punishment to myself is to get out and walk down one flight of stairs. I will learn, eventually.

I spent the rest of Thursday orienting myself in my neighborhood, Palermo Viejo, and purchasing the bare necessities such as water aqnd Coca Cola Light. I feel perfectly safe in this barrio and have yet to encounter the sketchy charaters you usually find in a big city. However, I hear the main tranny cruising street is a mere seven blocks away! After a late dinner of steak in a mushroom cream sauce and Spanish potatoes, accompanied by vino tinto, I passed out for the next nine hours. Not sleeping for the 36 previous hours will do that to you.

Refreshed, this morning I took the subte (subway) about 10 minutes to downtown to check out one of the Spanish schools I was considering, the International Bureau of Language. It was a two-minute walk from the subway line on pedestrianized Calle Florida, and I found the place incredibly easily, so I decided there was no need to scout out other schools. I took their placement test, and when I handed it back to the woman working there for an evaluation, she looked incredibly puzzled. After dissapearing to consult with a supervisor, she said she had never seen somebody like me - who could recognize most words but was absolutely terrible at verb conjugation. Well, that was exactly my problem during my three years of high school Spanish, and the reason I got C´s every semester!

So, she decided I should join Level 1 (the remedial dunces), but for the second week of the two-week introductory course since I didn´t need to learn how to count to 10 or ask ¨¿Como se llama?¨ Basically, after three years of Spanish in the Los Angeles Unified School District, I remember the equivalent of one week at a private school! I start my course at IBL on Monday, which lasts for four hours each weekday. As an added bonus, every Friday they offer a free tango lesson!

I then walked around the chaotic, bustling Microcentro, looking in stores while avoiding the touts, and eventually made it to that icon of Buenos Aires, El Obelisco. It´s located in the middle of what´s allegedly the world´s widest street, Ave. 9 de Julio, which takes no fewer than four lights to cross!!!

I called Paul - my former fellow intern in the UCSB Sports Information Office and later a university employee like myself - and met him at his apartment downtown. He moved here with his girlfriend in January basically on a whim, and earns cash here and there by teaching English and doing English-Spanish translations. We broke out a map and he gave me the low-down on wat to see and do, and I have made it my goal to visit a different neighborhood after my class lets out at 3 pm each day. I´m gonna call him on Sunday and he may join me for the big River Plate vs. Argentinos Juniors soccer game that evening. Another one of my goals is to made it to one partido de futbol each week. ARGENTINES LOVE THE SOCCER!

Goal No. 3 - write shorter blog posts...but with photos!

USofA???

2006-08-23T15:24:00.000-07:00

It's my last few hours in Miami, and although technically I'm still in the 48 contiguous United States, I still need some convincing otherwise. Swaying palm trees, beaches with translucent, 80-degree water, geckos as prevalent as ants and no fewer than two reggae radio stations playing the dirtiest dancehall tracks Kingston has to offer makes me thinkI'm already in a foreign land.

Began my second trip to the Sunshine State since December on Monday afternoon, when Larry and Val picked me up fromthe airport and we immediately headed to the world's pre-eminent Tiki bar, the Mai-Kai in Fort Lauderdale. Took advantage of two-for-one happy hour (these ain't your average drinks) and then - sufficiently buzzed - headed across the street to catch a showing of "Snakes on a Plane". I must admit, I bought into the buzz and left feeling the movie certainly lived up to it's name, but not the months of hype.

Yesterday, Larry had work and Val had school, so I borrowed his car and made a V-line for South Beach. I got in about an hour of swimmin' and sunnin' time before the thunderstorms kicked in and the lifeguards sounded their "get the hell off the beach" siren. I had actually just entered the water when I saw a lightning strike in the distance, and decided being electrocuted on the first day of my vacation would suck really bad. So after ducking into a deli for lunch during a deluge, I proceeded south to the communities of Coconut Grove and Coral Gables. Of course, I had to check out the University of Miami, perhaps the only school in the country with a more attractive student body than UCSB's. It was the first week of classes, however I refuse to believe any actual instruction occurs there. It has the feel of a four-year country club.

After meeting Larry back at his place, it was the moment I had been waiting for - dinner at Pollo Tropical, my favorite South Florida fast-food chain. For you Californians, it's like a Carribbean El Pollo Loco, except with much more exotic menu items like fried yucca. I dined on roast pork and was very satisfied. We capped off the night with a drink among the high-rise condos at some Israeli restaurant-bar. West LA and Brooklyn may be the only places in the US with a higher concentration of Heebs than this town.

Today saw another trip to the beach, the purchase of a new frisbee (the one I brought is too flims) and withdrawing of cash to pay for my apartment in Buenos Aires. Now it's time for my final meal as an American, at an falafel joint around the corner from Larry's house. This is truly "Jew Heaven" as Larry calls it...

Please forgive any typos, as I am constructing this blog post from their archaic keyboard, one of those allegedly ergonomic things with the keys split.

Pre-Departure Checklist

2006-08-20T21:52:00.000-07:00

Well, it's t-minus 10 hours until I depart my beloved Los Angeles for Fort Lauderdale (SPRING BREAK...WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!). I figured this would be a good time to take a very public inventory of the random assortment of knick-knacks being brought on this trip:

Entirely too much clothing – CHECK
Frisbee from Skyline Chili – CHECK
Approximately two pounds of Jelly Bellies – CHECK
Fantasy football magazine, rankings and depth charts – CHECK
Sergio Tacchini address book and notepad (thanks, Devoe) – CHECK
Spanish-English Dictionary I've had since 8th grade – CHECK
Toiletry bag received as a Bar Mitzvah gift, and used continuously ever since – CHECK
Ominous fortune received Friday that reads "Whatever arrangements you make are apt to be final" – CHECK
A can-do attitude – CHECK

Well there is much more, but I will spare you as I need to spend the next hour frantically uploading CD's to iTunes (yup, bringing the laptop – CHECK).

P.S. - If anybody uses Blogspot, and knows how to shrink the font size of my title at the top of the screen, please clue me in. Trying to figure it out by looking at the html coding makes my brain hurt.

First Blog Ever

2006-08-17T14:57:00.000-07:00

Despite disliking the sound of the word "blog", and the sense of self-importance many bloggers have (seriously, when did "blogger" become a viable career option?), I have decided to join their ranks. You won't find a whole lot of introspection here, nor crazy conspiracy theories, just me being me...

The purpose of BenBlogsFromBA is two-fold. Mainly, I want to keep family and friends abreast of my upcoming seven-week trip to South America, the first month of which will be spent in Buenos Aires. I have rented this apartment and plan to take four weeks of intensive Spanish classes beginning August 28, in hopes of becoming at least somewhat bilingual.

In a departure from my usual highly-structured travel, I don't have a set itinerary yet for the remaining three weeks of my trip. There are a few places in Argentina I want to visit, and I plan to avoid Brazil out of fear for my life, but otherwise I will play it by ear. All I know is I'm scheduled to fly home from Buenos Aires on October 18, however that date is entirely flexible as well.

The second purpose of this blog is to keep my writing skillz sharp. Since my ability to construct sentences is perhaps my only marketable job skill, I figured I should try to write as much as possible during this period of unemployment.

It's four days and counting until I depart, beginning with a two-day stopover in Miami to visit Larry and Valerie. Then next Wednesday night I flee the country for close to two months!