So here are some pictures that I took. It's only 60 and is by no means the total of 807 that I took but should still give you a good idea of what an incredible country Argentina is. Enjoy!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2024698&l=bdf40&id=4500948
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
"Two F***ing Seconds!"
I thought my adventure was behind me. Resigned to a trip home from El Calafate I thought that the exhilarating part of my trip took place on catamarans and Andean glaciers. Boy was I wrong...
I showed up to the airport in El Calafate at 11 to catch my 11:54 plane to Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego only to find out that the flight had been pushed back two and a half hours to a 2:30 take off. By my calculations this would have put me in Buenos Aires at 8:00 pm, giving me more than enough time to catch my 9:30 flight back to JFK. I willed away the hours by exploring some of the lesser played sections of my iPod and spent an inordinate amount of time in the gift shop perusing mass produced indigenous crafts that were supposed to look unique. I was bored, frustrated and couldn't wait to get on the plane and get back home.
The boarding finally came and with my iPod plugged in, head nodding to Lil' Wayne, I made my way on to the Boeing 737 bound for Ushuaia and then continuing to Buenos Aires International Airpot. The flight took off normally and headed south to the "Southernmost City in The World." Things were going along fine until we hit a little turbulence during our descent. The rule of thumb when flying into TdF is that the flight path has to follow the contours of the low lying valleys. If the pilot tries to fly over the mountains the plane may get violently tossed around by the intense winds that are commonplace in that part of the world. I held on and waited for the bumpiness to pass but the turbulence then turned into a full fledged drop as the plane fell a few hundred feet in a matter of seconds. Passengers began to scream and gasp as the plane was thrown around like a rag doll in the ocean. Then things took a turn...literally. The turbulence became so angry that the right jet engine let out an awful and cranky mechanical groan. The engine then stalled and the plane began a sharp nosedive to the left. Sitting on the right side of the plane, I could see the mountains become nearly parallel with the window-sill. The screams of the passengers were quite audible and some even began crying. I gripped the seat as hard as I could and began breathing infrequently. We were losing altitude very quickly and thoughts of my demise became a serious reality in my own mind.
The pilot managed to regain control of the craft and pull up a few hundred feet but just as things began to get better the left side engine gave out and the plane entered the same death roll it had done just seconds ago, except this time at a much lower altitude. The cabin was now in mass hysteria and people began screaming en masse. I began to think what it would be like to die in a plane crash in this part of the world: Could I possibly survive and if not how long would it take to find my body? How long would this last? Would the pictures that I took of my glacier hikes be preserved? Would it hurt? I began to take on an eerie calmness, almost resignation. I didn't barter with God or pray for help. I merely told myself that this was beyond my control and whatever the outcome was, I'd have to accept it. Much to my surprise, the pilot managed again to take control of the plane as the left engine fired back up and the plane shot skyward at a very sharp angle.
After circling around the airport to get our coordinates, the pilot came on the air and apologized for "the little bumpiness back there" and promised we'd be on the ground soon. The second approach, while still choppy, wasn't nearly as intense as the initial attempt and we managed to get all wheels on the tarmac as the passengers cheered with glee and relief.
Because it was a stopover we weren't allowed to get off the plane so I made way to the restroom. As I was waiting and watching the faces of the panicked passengers, the man behind me started making smalltalk. This was the essence of our conversation:
"What'd you think of that landing back there?"
"That was about the hairiest moment of my life but at least we made it," I replied.
"Well I'm a flight engineer for Boeing down here on vacation and can tell you a few things. First, I fly a few hundred thousand miles a year and that was as close a call as I can remember. You see, when the plane loses power like that, the direction the nose is heading in changes and as a result the plane becomes increasingly harder and unstable for the pilot control. I reckon that if we were in that roll for two more seconds we would have crashed."
Seriously...
That is what the guy said to me. Point blank. No bullshit. I was two seconds from having my body being fished out of the Beagle Channel by the Argentine Coast Guard. Two fucking seconds. I just started laughing.
I could tell you what happened to me afterwards. That my plane got rerouted to the domestic airport because of the fires the farmers have been setting outside Buenos Aires closed the international airport. That the kid sitting next to me on the flight to Buenos Aires stole my iPod. That the police at the domestic airport got my iPod back from the kid after I pleaded with them to listen to me and just check him after a woman said she saw him pocket it. That I got a private taxi, along with another kid (Sam), that got us to the International Airport. That the taxi dropped us off at the wrong terminal. That it was too late for me to check in and had to go through a makeshift border patrol, customs and security clearance. That Sam, my newfound brother in arms, had a hard time getting through security with an ice axe in the bag that he was originally planning on checking. That I sprinted to the gate and made the plane at 9:58 knowing full well that the doors were going to close at 10. I could tell you all of that but the reality is that I can always get another iPod or another flight to New York. But even through all of that, I couldn't get the thought of "two seconds" out of my head.
Think about that...
1...
2...
(fill in the blank)
I'm happy to say that I'm here and that I'm safe but whatever luck or karma I may have had 24 hours ago certainly is a little more depleted today.
I showed up to the airport in El Calafate at 11 to catch my 11:54 plane to Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego only to find out that the flight had been pushed back two and a half hours to a 2:30 take off. By my calculations this would have put me in Buenos Aires at 8:00 pm, giving me more than enough time to catch my 9:30 flight back to JFK. I willed away the hours by exploring some of the lesser played sections of my iPod and spent an inordinate amount of time in the gift shop perusing mass produced indigenous crafts that were supposed to look unique. I was bored, frustrated and couldn't wait to get on the plane and get back home.
The boarding finally came and with my iPod plugged in, head nodding to Lil' Wayne, I made my way on to the Boeing 737 bound for Ushuaia and then continuing to Buenos Aires International Airpot. The flight took off normally and headed south to the "Southernmost City in The World." Things were going along fine until we hit a little turbulence during our descent. The rule of thumb when flying into TdF is that the flight path has to follow the contours of the low lying valleys. If the pilot tries to fly over the mountains the plane may get violently tossed around by the intense winds that are commonplace in that part of the world. I held on and waited for the bumpiness to pass but the turbulence then turned into a full fledged drop as the plane fell a few hundred feet in a matter of seconds. Passengers began to scream and gasp as the plane was thrown around like a rag doll in the ocean. Then things took a turn...literally. The turbulence became so angry that the right jet engine let out an awful and cranky mechanical groan. The engine then stalled and the plane began a sharp nosedive to the left. Sitting on the right side of the plane, I could see the mountains become nearly parallel with the window-sill. The screams of the passengers were quite audible and some even began crying. I gripped the seat as hard as I could and began breathing infrequently. We were losing altitude very quickly and thoughts of my demise became a serious reality in my own mind.
The pilot managed to regain control of the craft and pull up a few hundred feet but just as things began to get better the left side engine gave out and the plane entered the same death roll it had done just seconds ago, except this time at a much lower altitude. The cabin was now in mass hysteria and people began screaming en masse. I began to think what it would be like to die in a plane crash in this part of the world: Could I possibly survive and if not how long would it take to find my body? How long would this last? Would the pictures that I took of my glacier hikes be preserved? Would it hurt? I began to take on an eerie calmness, almost resignation. I didn't barter with God or pray for help. I merely told myself that this was beyond my control and whatever the outcome was, I'd have to accept it. Much to my surprise, the pilot managed again to take control of the plane as the left engine fired back up and the plane shot skyward at a very sharp angle.
After circling around the airport to get our coordinates, the pilot came on the air and apologized for "the little bumpiness back there" and promised we'd be on the ground soon. The second approach, while still choppy, wasn't nearly as intense as the initial attempt and we managed to get all wheels on the tarmac as the passengers cheered with glee and relief.
Because it was a stopover we weren't allowed to get off the plane so I made way to the restroom. As I was waiting and watching the faces of the panicked passengers, the man behind me started making smalltalk. This was the essence of our conversation:
"What'd you think of that landing back there?"
"That was about the hairiest moment of my life but at least we made it," I replied.
"Well I'm a flight engineer for Boeing down here on vacation and can tell you a few things. First, I fly a few hundred thousand miles a year and that was as close a call as I can remember. You see, when the plane loses power like that, the direction the nose is heading in changes and as a result the plane becomes increasingly harder and unstable for the pilot control. I reckon that if we were in that roll for two more seconds we would have crashed."
Seriously...
That is what the guy said to me. Point blank. No bullshit. I was two seconds from having my body being fished out of the Beagle Channel by the Argentine Coast Guard. Two fucking seconds. I just started laughing.
I could tell you what happened to me afterwards. That my plane got rerouted to the domestic airport because of the fires the farmers have been setting outside Buenos Aires closed the international airport. That the kid sitting next to me on the flight to Buenos Aires stole my iPod. That the police at the domestic airport got my iPod back from the kid after I pleaded with them to listen to me and just check him after a woman said she saw him pocket it. That I got a private taxi, along with another kid (Sam), that got us to the International Airport. That the taxi dropped us off at the wrong terminal. That it was too late for me to check in and had to go through a makeshift border patrol, customs and security clearance. That Sam, my newfound brother in arms, had a hard time getting through security with an ice axe in the bag that he was originally planning on checking. That I sprinted to the gate and made the plane at 9:58 knowing full well that the doors were going to close at 10. I could tell you all of that but the reality is that I can always get another iPod or another flight to New York. But even through all of that, I couldn't get the thought of "two seconds" out of my head.
Think about that...
1...
2...
(fill in the blank)
I'm happy to say that I'm here and that I'm safe but whatever luck or karma I may have had 24 hours ago certainly is a little more depleted today.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Adios Patagonia
Wow...
Incredible...
Fantastic...
(insert adjective that conotes amazement here)...
A great trip that has given me so much more that what I´ve written here.
Back to NYC to get the damn photos uploaded on the interwebs.
Dad: I´m on flight AR1300 (Aerolineas Argentinas) that´s supposed to get into JFK at 7:15. I have my cell so I´ll call you when I land.
Peace!
Incredible...
Fantastic...
(insert adjective that conotes amazement here)...
A great trip that has given me so much more that what I´ve written here.
Back to NYC to get the damn photos uploaded on the interwebs.
Dad: I´m on flight AR1300 (Aerolineas Argentinas) that´s supposed to get into JFK at 7:15. I have my cell so I´ll call you when I land.
Peace!
Friday, April 18, 2008
Day Deis: You May Be Flashing Your Ice, But I´m Walking On It Son
So the final day of the trip. The culmination of all things Argentina. It is...The Big Ice Adventure!
What is Big Ice? Very simple, it´s a tour of a glacier while you´re on the actual glacier. Just like Dr. Evil would say ask about "real freaking lasers?", this is a "real freaking glaicer." And the name of this glaicer is the Perito Moreno, one of the very few advancing glaciers in the world. 5k wide, 100 meters tall and 60k long, the Perito Moreno is the jewel of Los Glaciers National Parc. Here´s what went down.
The standard 5:30 wake up call was in full effect. Got my day going with some really old and crappy coffee and a few trips to el baño (I´ll spare you the deets). The pick up was for 7am and unlike yesterday the bus was actually on time for a change. One thing about being in Patagonia during this time of year is that the sun doesn´t rise until 8am so I conked out and slept for the 50km trip out to the glacier.
I was waken up by the lovely Roxanna who made us fill out the standard issue health form when we got inside the park. It was nothing major aside from lying about having any previous ankle injuries. We then made our way to the main lookout point where you can view the glacier in all its glory. It was 8:30 in the morning as we pulled into the lookout point and my initial reaction was (hide the women an children) "Holy Shit!" I had seen the Spegazzini and Upsalla glaicers yesterday from the boat but that was from a few hundred meters away. It was a totally different experience seeing the glacier from just over a hundred yards away. It´s a sheer wall of jagged and angry ice that moves a few meters a day into the Lago Argentino. The face of the glacier is a milky white with ice blue striations that line across the view point. In the summer time the glacier calves on a very regular basis (calving is when giant chunks of the glaciar fall into the lake resulting the icebergs and various glaciar related detritus). Lucky for me, I managed to catch a rather sizeable piece fall into the water and caught it on film. The sound is eerie, picture a lightning bolt hitting a phone pole with the resulting sound of giant waves crashing against a pier. It was complete nature: unbridled, fierce and awesome.
We left the lookout point and I remembered thinking to myself "I´m going to actually walk on that thing?" The answer: yes. We were taken by boat across the lake where many pictures were taken of the sun rising above the mountains and made our way to the hut that would serve as our jumping off point for the hike. Both groups were there: Big Ice (my group and the decididly more advanced undertaking) and the Minitrekking group which seemed to be made of invalids, old people and pussies. I was in the right place allthough I sense some of you would disagree. Paula introduced herself as our guide and told us that we could take everything out of our backpacks besides lunch. We were also told to empty our water bottles, a curious comment that I at first thought I´d misinterpreted through her broken English but I´ll get to that a little later.
After a very brisk 10 minute hike up some forest we stopped at a little clearing and were given our crampons for the hike. For those who may not know, crampons are spiked, metal attachments that are bound to the bottom of your boots/shoes with nylon straps and provide grip on the glacial surface. We were then guided through a rather strenous 30 minute hike on the side of the glacier where we would then attach our crampons and take on the Perito Moreno for ourselves. The whole hike up there was filled with total anticipation: the weather appeared to be agreeable and everyone in the group moved quickly and eagerly through the stones and rocks that had been deposited along the side of the glaciar over the past thousands of years. Even a waterfall with a dropoff point hundreds of meters in the air failed to grab anyones attention. The mission was as clear as the ice we were to walk on.
We reached our point of glacial entry, a clearing filled with dead trees and branches where we all sat and placed our crampons on with the help of the guides. The hike up had given me the chance to connect with a few other travelers, notably Javier (from Buenos Aires), Mike (a Kiwi) and Iza (Polish-born but Pennsylvania-bred). The four of us served as each others photographers during the 4 hour trek but I have to admit that I probably had them take more pictures with my camera than the three of them did combined.
The first stop on the glacier was a chasm the cracked and bubbled with deep blue glacial water. It was at this point that Paula told us that all the water on the Perito Moreno was safe to drink. An intrepid Colombian couple were the first to take a sip and after a resounding affirmation of their actions, the rest of us joined it. The water was cold (duh!) but delicious. Much crisper than anything Deer Park or Poland Spring could claim, this was water straight from the source with no BS to boot.
The group was then taken to a rock pit, or at least I think that´s what it was called. Its a giant hole, 6 feet by 10 feet wide that is filled with mountain water and descends 70 meters into midnight blue darkness. I tested this out by dropping a nearby stone into the abyss and after a few seconds it was gone. For anyone thinking of taking a dip in a glaciar at any point in their lives, may I suggest you refrain from dipping nary a toe in one of these rock pits. Standing on the cusp of one of these things elicits a chilling fear, literally and figuratively. Which brings me to my next subject: The Weather.
The guides had told us that if the weather stays nice, which it was at the time, then we would be able to have lunch in the middle of the glacier. But if things started to act up we would have to cut short our hike and take refuge in a nearby tent setup for just this type of occasion. One thing was for sure, if I had to step into that tent I would have been pissed. We were told that the hikers yesterday were met with the same glorious early morning conditions but just as they got out on the glaciar the rain began to start and the hike quickly turned into a death march. I can think of few places on earth I´d rather be during a downpour than a glaciar. Not only is there no shelter but you move with the speed and agility of drunk turtle and everything around you is cold and wet already with things setting up to only get worse. Lucky for us the weather was simply magnficent. So fantastic that we started shedding layers en masse. I was decked out in a long sleeved poly-pro undershirt, a microfleece, a regular fleece and my rain jacket and by the end of the day I was wearing half the layers I had on in the begining of the day. I can´t even begin to tell you what this meant in both group morale and the resulting photographs that I had taken: I managed an arthritc index finger inducing 312 photos and movies by the end of the day.
Hiking around the glaciar for a few hours, Paula directed us to a lagoon that sat on the surface of the ice where we would take lunch. You know when you buy a computer and it comes pre-equipped with photos of beautiful places that you can use as either a screensaver or a desktop backgroud? This was one of those places. Blue water flowed into the lagoon through a makeshift waterfall and the surface of the snow was pocked with marks that resembled acne in their appearance. This almost lunar landscape was the setting for easily the most incredible lunch location I´d ever had. And what did I have? A PowerBar and a turkey sandwich that Iza was kind enough to share with me. Yeah, classy, I know, thanks.
We then headed back to the jump in point where my energy levels started to dip. All that walking in the bright sunshine (that reflects off the snow and makes things a little dicey at times) had made me somewhat weary. That said, I was still trucking along and just taking everything in. Fantastic.
We reached the point, took off our crampons and made our way back to the boats. Photos and videos were taken on the hike back and I just had an ear to ear smile the entire way down. This is what I had come down here for. To explore the wilds and ruggedness of Patagonia. To test myself, albeit not that much. And to have an adventure that would be more than just the run of the mill ski trip or beach vacation. I left the Perito Moreno knowing that I had acheived my goal. The boat ride back was met with celebratory whiskey on the rocks (legitamate rocks as they were ice chunks taken from the glacier itself). Photos of the group were taken and I exchanged information with Mike, Javier and Iza. It was a momentous day and truly the cherry atop a trip that has made me a new person perhaps.
My flight takes off tomorrow at 11:54am where I start the 21 hour journey back to NYC. I´ll let this experience marinate a bit before I choose some closing thoughts but let me make one thing clear: Do yourself a favor and go on a trip. It can be a day or it can be for a year. It doesn´t have to be to Argentina but go somewhere different. Somewhere you haven´t been before. You´ll be amazed how clear your mind will be when you return.
Hasta La Vista,
Zooooooooooooooooooooooooooooob
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Day Nueve: I See You Flashing That Ice
Despite the fact that it´s 40 degrees with vertical rain I am proud to tell you that today was one of the most incredible days I´ve had traveling. Let´s relive the past 24 hours shall we.
After a brief post yesterday I took to the sheets at around 10:15 to get some rest before my 5:30 wake up to head out on the boats and see the surrounding glaciers on Lago Argentino. Why am I waking up at 5:30 you ask? Well the buses for the glaciers pick you up at the hotel at 7am and I´m not the kind of person that can just get out of bed and make moves. I need to marinate: have a coffee, read some news and get the overall job done. It wasn´t so bad actually as I had some time to chill out in the living room area by myself as other guests started to trickle in. By 6:45 the place was hopping and I began to anticipate my pickup. Things started to die out after the buses started picking up guests for their respective trips yet I remained. 7:30 rolls around an Jimena (previously and mistakenly named Justina in this blog) asks me if I was sure I made a reservation. Seeing as she made it for me I said "Si." A few more minutes go by and I receive news that the bus has left without me because of a mistake on their end. Great. But not to worry, a private taxi would come pick me up to take me the 40k to the boat launch.
Sure enough, 5 minutes later the taxi picks me up and we start hauling ass topping out at 120 kph (about 100 mph). His lead foot made seeing the desolate landscape a bit of a blur but I managed to discern some shapes of sheep and mountains and not much else. There is really nothing here besides shrubs, it´s a little jarring at first. After a little snafu on my part (apparently your chances of getting on the boat are significantly diminished if you don´t have a ticket) led to me sprinting around the port, I made my way onto the vessel and prepared for what one guest the night before said was "One of the most incredible things I´ve ever done." He was 70 so his words carried some serious weight.
The catamaran was state-of-the-art with two tiers of seating and 360 degree viewing angles. Step outside and you can circumnavigate the entire ship for optimal glacier and iceberg photo ops. My first thought wasn´t a good one as I saw a number of elderly faces, leading me to believe that I got on the wrong boat as I was told by the woman at the hostel that there was a hike at some point of the voyage. The only hiking many of the patrons looked capable of us up to the Pearly Gates so I questioned the motives of ticket window operator back at port who may have been playing a cruel trick on me. My thoughts were quickly laid to rest as the boat pulled out of the harbor and headed up the Brazo Norte section of the pristine lake. The sun had barely risen above the surrounding mountains but my eyes were transfixed on the world around me. Huge peaks towering jutting out from seemingly nowhere to fix themselves thousands of meters above the lake. Waterfalls crashing down from hundreds of feet. And not a single trace of humanity besides the incredibly loud Puerto Rican contingent sitting behind me who all started doing shots of Jameson whiskey which left them incapable of keeping quiet.
The boat sped through the uper regions of the lake and the faces of the guests would routinely droop every time another breathtaking sight made its way into focus. The first glacier we would be visiting is called Glaciar Spegazzini and is known for the height of its ice wall. After an hour trip across the lake the Spegazzini came into view and I was at the front of the hull, mouth agape, madly taking pictures and videos. The closer we got the more glacial garbage began floating around the boat and as we pulled up to the 300 meter viewing point of the glacier, a few of the crew fished a toddler sized iceberg from the water which, after being chopped up, found it´s fragments into the vodka filled glasses of the aforementoined Puerto Rican contingent who had since been relegated to some corner of the bottom level much to my delight.
The glaciar did not disappoint. With a wall reaching over 200 feet in height, the Spegazzini is simply awe inspiring. Jagged peaks of ice jut from the top of the wall and electric blue sections tumble from the mountains around the river of ice and fall into the lake with a resounding splash, much to the delight of onlookers. The boat spent a solid 30 minutes in front of the glaciar, quietly trolling the waters and doing slow 360´s that allowed everyone on board to get more than enough photos. I was lucky enough to connect with a very young Swiss couple who acted as my personal photographers. When I attempted to exchange the favor I was met with a stern "No, vee don´t like pictures of us viss zee glay-shers." Ah yes, those lovely Swiss.
Our next stop was to do continue on the northward arm of the Brazo Norte (a redundant sentence for the Spanish speakers in the house) with the Glaciar Upsalla as the destination. Much wider but far less imposing than the Spegazzini, the Upsalla is the largest glaciar in the Andean ice cap with a width of 2km and an overall length of more than 60km. Lines of winding dirt and gravel were visible within the glacier itself as we approached but the most incredible aspect of the Upsalla were the apartment building sized icebergs that had recently calved from it. These massive chunks of ice break away from the main glacier on a seasonal level, usually around springtime when the temperature begins to heat up. The float with no real direction but their mere presence is more than ominous. Catamaran vs. Iceberg, I´m taking iceberg every single time. After a few Titanic jokes, the group began the photo circus again, after which me made our way towards landfall at Puerto B. Onelli.
Puerto Onelli is an escarpment on the western portion of the park where these boats dock and allow the guests to either sit down at a restaurant for lunch or make a 1km trek through the woods to the other side of the penninsula to witness a section of the lake where three glaciers distribute their ices at the same point. I was all PowerBar´d up so I made the trek despite the now steady rain that was coming from the west. A brief hike through the indigenous beech trees that were just begining to turn to their autumnal reds and oranges led us to the lookout point where we were free to roam the beach for about an hour. My first impulse was to hop ontop of one of the many icebergs that had made their way on to shore and an Australian man was kind enough to take a few shots of me. The view was now totally fogged up so we could only see one of the three nearby glaciers but I don´t think any one was disappointed. The sheer isolation, the meandering jagged icebergs and the roar of a faraway avalanche was a deeply spiritual experience for me. I stood at the banks of the lake, looking at the surrounding scenery and closed my eyes for a few minutes. This was the moment that I had come down to Argentina for. To see what else was out there. My curiousity regarding this part of the world had paid off and I stood there, completely and totally content. It was marvelous (or mahvelous depending on what shore of Long Island you´re froom). We made our way back to the boat and even though I was freezing from the wind and the rain I left Puerto Onelli with a huge smile on my face.
The trip back to the harbor was uneventful as I slept with the sounds of Santana´s Abraxas on my iPod. Tomorrow I head out to do the Big Ice climb on the Perito Moreno glacier. This happened to be the one thing that I really wanted to do on this trip so it´s fitting that I´ve saved it for last. My only hope is that the weather clears up as it is still raining and quite windy but I´m fleeced up so it shouldn´t be much of a problem.
Back to the hostel I go. I may get a late night post in but if not I look forward to giving you final Argentina post tomorrow.
Observations
1) I have a goal and that is to leave the United States at least once every calendar year. Seeing Argentina in all of its glory has made me realized that there is so, so, so much more than what lies within my home borders. While I love living in the US I would like to get a few more stamps in my passport as well. Let´s see if I can make good on this one.
2) Old people are funny and fart at weird times.
3) The meat down here is just incredible. A barbecue (called an asado) is treated with almost spiritual reverence. I asked the cook at the hostel what makes the food so much better down here seeing as they only use salt to season the meat. He believes that what´s considered great meat in the US is only of marginal quality down here. He doesn´t need any spices or sauces for his dishes as the meat speaks for itself. I think he´s right.
4) Lots of Israelis down here. In fact, one of the desk guys here is a Jew from Buenos Aires. Amen brotha!
5) I love introducing new people to new music. Thievery Corporation has been getting a lot of rotation in the hostel, courtesy of me, and much to the delight of the guests.
Uno Mundo!
Farmbinial
After a brief post yesterday I took to the sheets at around 10:15 to get some rest before my 5:30 wake up to head out on the boats and see the surrounding glaciers on Lago Argentino. Why am I waking up at 5:30 you ask? Well the buses for the glaciers pick you up at the hotel at 7am and I´m not the kind of person that can just get out of bed and make moves. I need to marinate: have a coffee, read some news and get the overall job done. It wasn´t so bad actually as I had some time to chill out in the living room area by myself as other guests started to trickle in. By 6:45 the place was hopping and I began to anticipate my pickup. Things started to die out after the buses started picking up guests for their respective trips yet I remained. 7:30 rolls around an Jimena (previously and mistakenly named Justina in this blog) asks me if I was sure I made a reservation. Seeing as she made it for me I said "Si." A few more minutes go by and I receive news that the bus has left without me because of a mistake on their end. Great. But not to worry, a private taxi would come pick me up to take me the 40k to the boat launch.
Sure enough, 5 minutes later the taxi picks me up and we start hauling ass topping out at 120 kph (about 100 mph). His lead foot made seeing the desolate landscape a bit of a blur but I managed to discern some shapes of sheep and mountains and not much else. There is really nothing here besides shrubs, it´s a little jarring at first. After a little snafu on my part (apparently your chances of getting on the boat are significantly diminished if you don´t have a ticket) led to me sprinting around the port, I made my way onto the vessel and prepared for what one guest the night before said was "One of the most incredible things I´ve ever done." He was 70 so his words carried some serious weight.
The catamaran was state-of-the-art with two tiers of seating and 360 degree viewing angles. Step outside and you can circumnavigate the entire ship for optimal glacier and iceberg photo ops. My first thought wasn´t a good one as I saw a number of elderly faces, leading me to believe that I got on the wrong boat as I was told by the woman at the hostel that there was a hike at some point of the voyage. The only hiking many of the patrons looked capable of us up to the Pearly Gates so I questioned the motives of ticket window operator back at port who may have been playing a cruel trick on me. My thoughts were quickly laid to rest as the boat pulled out of the harbor and headed up the Brazo Norte section of the pristine lake. The sun had barely risen above the surrounding mountains but my eyes were transfixed on the world around me. Huge peaks towering jutting out from seemingly nowhere to fix themselves thousands of meters above the lake. Waterfalls crashing down from hundreds of feet. And not a single trace of humanity besides the incredibly loud Puerto Rican contingent sitting behind me who all started doing shots of Jameson whiskey which left them incapable of keeping quiet.
The boat sped through the uper regions of the lake and the faces of the guests would routinely droop every time another breathtaking sight made its way into focus. The first glacier we would be visiting is called Glaciar Spegazzini and is known for the height of its ice wall. After an hour trip across the lake the Spegazzini came into view and I was at the front of the hull, mouth agape, madly taking pictures and videos. The closer we got the more glacial garbage began floating around the boat and as we pulled up to the 300 meter viewing point of the glacier, a few of the crew fished a toddler sized iceberg from the water which, after being chopped up, found it´s fragments into the vodka filled glasses of the aforementoined Puerto Rican contingent who had since been relegated to some corner of the bottom level much to my delight.
The glaciar did not disappoint. With a wall reaching over 200 feet in height, the Spegazzini is simply awe inspiring. Jagged peaks of ice jut from the top of the wall and electric blue sections tumble from the mountains around the river of ice and fall into the lake with a resounding splash, much to the delight of onlookers. The boat spent a solid 30 minutes in front of the glaciar, quietly trolling the waters and doing slow 360´s that allowed everyone on board to get more than enough photos. I was lucky enough to connect with a very young Swiss couple who acted as my personal photographers. When I attempted to exchange the favor I was met with a stern "No, vee don´t like pictures of us viss zee glay-shers." Ah yes, those lovely Swiss.
Our next stop was to do continue on the northward arm of the Brazo Norte (a redundant sentence for the Spanish speakers in the house) with the Glaciar Upsalla as the destination. Much wider but far less imposing than the Spegazzini, the Upsalla is the largest glaciar in the Andean ice cap with a width of 2km and an overall length of more than 60km. Lines of winding dirt and gravel were visible within the glacier itself as we approached but the most incredible aspect of the Upsalla were the apartment building sized icebergs that had recently calved from it. These massive chunks of ice break away from the main glacier on a seasonal level, usually around springtime when the temperature begins to heat up. The float with no real direction but their mere presence is more than ominous. Catamaran vs. Iceberg, I´m taking iceberg every single time. After a few Titanic jokes, the group began the photo circus again, after which me made our way towards landfall at Puerto B. Onelli.
Puerto Onelli is an escarpment on the western portion of the park where these boats dock and allow the guests to either sit down at a restaurant for lunch or make a 1km trek through the woods to the other side of the penninsula to witness a section of the lake where three glaciers distribute their ices at the same point. I was all PowerBar´d up so I made the trek despite the now steady rain that was coming from the west. A brief hike through the indigenous beech trees that were just begining to turn to their autumnal reds and oranges led us to the lookout point where we were free to roam the beach for about an hour. My first impulse was to hop ontop of one of the many icebergs that had made their way on to shore and an Australian man was kind enough to take a few shots of me. The view was now totally fogged up so we could only see one of the three nearby glaciers but I don´t think any one was disappointed. The sheer isolation, the meandering jagged icebergs and the roar of a faraway avalanche was a deeply spiritual experience for me. I stood at the banks of the lake, looking at the surrounding scenery and closed my eyes for a few minutes. This was the moment that I had come down to Argentina for. To see what else was out there. My curiousity regarding this part of the world had paid off and I stood there, completely and totally content. It was marvelous (or mahvelous depending on what shore of Long Island you´re froom). We made our way back to the boat and even though I was freezing from the wind and the rain I left Puerto Onelli with a huge smile on my face.
The trip back to the harbor was uneventful as I slept with the sounds of Santana´s Abraxas on my iPod. Tomorrow I head out to do the Big Ice climb on the Perito Moreno glacier. This happened to be the one thing that I really wanted to do on this trip so it´s fitting that I´ve saved it for last. My only hope is that the weather clears up as it is still raining and quite windy but I´m fleeced up so it shouldn´t be much of a problem.
Back to the hostel I go. I may get a late night post in but if not I look forward to giving you final Argentina post tomorrow.
Observations
1) I have a goal and that is to leave the United States at least once every calendar year. Seeing Argentina in all of its glory has made me realized that there is so, so, so much more than what lies within my home borders. While I love living in the US I would like to get a few more stamps in my passport as well. Let´s see if I can make good on this one.
2) Old people are funny and fart at weird times.
3) The meat down here is just incredible. A barbecue (called an asado) is treated with almost spiritual reverence. I asked the cook at the hostel what makes the food so much better down here seeing as they only use salt to season the meat. He believes that what´s considered great meat in the US is only of marginal quality down here. He doesn´t need any spices or sauces for his dishes as the meat speaks for itself. I think he´s right.
4) Lots of Israelis down here. In fact, one of the desk guys here is a Jew from Buenos Aires. Amen brotha!
5) I love introducing new people to new music. Thievery Corporation has been getting a lot of rotation in the hostel, courtesy of me, and much to the delight of the guests.
Uno Mundo!
Farmbinial
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Good Times at The America del Sur Hostel
Had a chance for a brief update. I´m sitting here in the decked out lounge completely content. Not only have I introduced the staff here to some really great music but they´ve let me DJ here. Got Thievery Corporation spinning around and everyone is asking me who is playing, it´s a great feeling.
Hitting the sack soon. Have to be up at 5:15 to get ready for the glaciers.
Hitting the sack soon. Have to be up at 5:15 to get ready for the glaciers.
An Idea of What I´m Looking At
Because I have no real way of uploading any of my pictures, I´m resorting to images from the Internet to give you all a sense of what I´m looking at. While I guess I will have to wait to upload the pics when I get back, in the meantime, enjoy.
(Ed note: Bandwith issue are bad so if you are keen on seeing where I am, just search for pictures of Lago Argentino, Perito Moreno and Upsalla Glacier. If you would like to see where I´m staying just go to www.americanhostel.com.ar)
(Ed note: Bandwith issue are bad so if you are keen on seeing where I am, just search for pictures of Lago Argentino, Perito Moreno and Upsalla Glacier. If you would like to see where I´m staying just go to www.americanhostel.com.ar)
Horse Back Riding in Patagonia
Wow...
Seriously, wow...
I´m in the Patagonian outpost named El Calafate right now and I just can´t explain how incredible this place is but I will do my best.
I may have mentioned this already but I woke up this morning at 7am and headed to the reception desk where Justina, the very sweet and somewhat attractive desk lady began yelling at me having never even met me before.¨"You are in room Maracaibo yes? Your bus leaves in 10 minutes for the glaciers! You must get dressed immediately!" Not knowing that I had made reservations, I ran back to my room and began packing as if there were a nuclear explosion. I had no idea what was going on seeing as I had made no arrangements whatsoever yet but thought that perhaps I was at a hostel that planned everything for you. I sprinted around my room and made it back to the reception area having not showered or brushed my teeth which I´m sure made everyone with clear nasal passages really happy. After sitting there for 20 minutes, Justina came over to me and informed me that she had made a mistake, that it was the room next to me who was supposed to be at the bus and that I should just relax and enjoy myself. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I like to take my time in the morning. I like to have my coffee, I like to read and I like to spend an inordinate amount of time on the throne. Not having been afforded any of those opportunties put me in a grumpy mood but I managed to organize the day regardless.
Justina set me up with a causal 2-hour horseback ride that would take me to the top of some hills that overlook Lago Argentino and some of the surrounding mountains. After napping for a few hours in the living room I was picked up by my cab at 11:15 for the 10 minute drive to the stable.
The stable itself is a bit rundown but it exudes gauchoness. There are horses, dogs and cats everywhere and everyone that works there has the air of someone whose body was forged not from a womb but from stainless steel. The men were hard but kind. After exchanging pleasantries with our gaucho, the very funny and charming Fernando, me and 4 others set off on our trip. Joining me were Mario and Hillary, a newly wedded couple from West Hartford (who we´ll get to a bit later) and an Itallian mother daughter combination.
I hadn´t ridden a horse in years but much like a bicycle, it didn´t take me long to get well aquainted with my steed, I think it´s name was Paquao. We started off heading towards one of the shrubby hills that blanket this landscape and were met with head swivelling views of epic mountains and crystal blue lakes. The omniprescent and sometimes violent wind kept my hands alternating for spots under the saddle while my idle hand held the reigns. Upon reaching one of the many vistas that overlook the town and the mountains we stopped for pictures. It was a remarkable spot that was somewhat compromised by Fernando´s horse rather potent and audible flatulence. We continued onward for another 45 minutes until we reached our intended destination: a bluff that sits about 200 feet about Lago Argentino, resulting in a steep drop into the lake. Many, many pictures were taken and we made our return back. The landscape here is almost martian and no plant grows higher than a few feet. My guess is that the constant wind coupled with apparent nutrient deficient soil makes for poor agricultural conditions. The only economy this place has going for it is tourism which is both a blessing and a curse.
Up until a few years ago, El Calafate was a dusty outpost where Argentines could come to covalesce on the banks of Largo Argentino and perhaps visit the nearby glacier, Perito Moreno. That all changed in 2000 when the municipal government completed the new airport that was meant to service daily flights from Buenos Aires, Punta Arenas, Puerto Natales and Ushuaia. With this increase in available capacity comes a need to improve the current conditions of lodging and hotels. The result is a major construction boon that, while bringing plenty of dollars to the region, could ultimately have an irreperable effect on the natural surroundings. One of the joys of coming to Patagonia is experiencing the untamed landscape and harsh conditions that make up the climate in this part of the world. That may all disappear if the government doesn´t take steps to stem construction and cap the number of visitors that come into this town. I don´t have much hope but it´s not too late to make a change.
Mario and I had been chatting for the duration of the ride. He´s from Puerto Rico and his new wife hails from Ireland and having just been married 10 days ago, they were spending their honeymoon here in Argentina. We began talking about the respective places we have been and as the ride wound down Mario was kind enough to invite me for lunch and we took almuerzo in a regional restaurant in town. After a portion of blood sausage, I took my main course of a delicious local trout while Mario and Hillary split a portion of lamb. The serving style here is certainly unique as they don´t spend much time on presentation and instead, focus on the quality of the mean which is sublime. We downed a bottle of local Malbec and parted ways but not before exchanging email addresses and the like. A wonderful couple and one of the many people I hope to keep in touch with when I return home.
I was planning on renting a car and exploring the surrounding landscape but lunch lasted longer than expected so I made my way to the Internet cafe where I type right now.
Observations:
1) The Internet connection at every place down here is extremely slow. So slow that I think their version of email involves an Andean Condor transporting your message from El Calafate to Buenos Aires, only to then have the message put into the computer and sent to its intended destination. It´s somewhat frustrating but I didn´t come down here to play video games and write Javascript so I´ll deal, even if it costs me $2.50 pesos every 15 minutes.
2) This town is obviously a toursit orriented kind of place but still retains some regional charm. I like it and there is a prevailing odor of baby powder that emenates throughout the entire resort. It´s kind of weird but it´s better than having the whole place smell like burnt rubber (ehem...Buenos Aires. are you listening?)
3)Driving from the airport last night was kind of an interesting experience. It´s 14 miles away from tomn and we didn´t see a light until I pulled into the hostel parking lot. If you need any confirmation that you are at the end of the earth, just fly into the airport and drive around for a while. You´ll see nothing more than asphalt, dirt and shrubs. That´s it.
4) Uncle Lammie: I didn´t have time to get your bag, I´m sorry but I´ll make it up to you by having a great time while thinking about you. That´s fair, no?
If you think I took a lot of pictures today the I suggest you hold onto your 1GB memory sticks because tomorrow is glacier time and the Canon SD1000 will be put to the test.
I´m heading back to the hostel and plan on chilling out for the rest of the day. I may do a night post after dinner but I have to be up so damn early tomorrow that I may just wait ´till tomorrow afternoon to get everything out.
One World!
Das Uber Coog
Seriously, wow...
I´m in the Patagonian outpost named El Calafate right now and I just can´t explain how incredible this place is but I will do my best.
I may have mentioned this already but I woke up this morning at 7am and headed to the reception desk where Justina, the very sweet and somewhat attractive desk lady began yelling at me having never even met me before.¨"You are in room Maracaibo yes? Your bus leaves in 10 minutes for the glaciers! You must get dressed immediately!" Not knowing that I had made reservations, I ran back to my room and began packing as if there were a nuclear explosion. I had no idea what was going on seeing as I had made no arrangements whatsoever yet but thought that perhaps I was at a hostel that planned everything for you. I sprinted around my room and made it back to the reception area having not showered or brushed my teeth which I´m sure made everyone with clear nasal passages really happy. After sitting there for 20 minutes, Justina came over to me and informed me that she had made a mistake, that it was the room next to me who was supposed to be at the bus and that I should just relax and enjoy myself. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I like to take my time in the morning. I like to have my coffee, I like to read and I like to spend an inordinate amount of time on the throne. Not having been afforded any of those opportunties put me in a grumpy mood but I managed to organize the day regardless.
Justina set me up with a causal 2-hour horseback ride that would take me to the top of some hills that overlook Lago Argentino and some of the surrounding mountains. After napping for a few hours in the living room I was picked up by my cab at 11:15 for the 10 minute drive to the stable.
The stable itself is a bit rundown but it exudes gauchoness. There are horses, dogs and cats everywhere and everyone that works there has the air of someone whose body was forged not from a womb but from stainless steel. The men were hard but kind. After exchanging pleasantries with our gaucho, the very funny and charming Fernando, me and 4 others set off on our trip. Joining me were Mario and Hillary, a newly wedded couple from West Hartford (who we´ll get to a bit later) and an Itallian mother daughter combination.
I hadn´t ridden a horse in years but much like a bicycle, it didn´t take me long to get well aquainted with my steed, I think it´s name was Paquao. We started off heading towards one of the shrubby hills that blanket this landscape and were met with head swivelling views of epic mountains and crystal blue lakes. The omniprescent and sometimes violent wind kept my hands alternating for spots under the saddle while my idle hand held the reigns. Upon reaching one of the many vistas that overlook the town and the mountains we stopped for pictures. It was a remarkable spot that was somewhat compromised by Fernando´s horse rather potent and audible flatulence. We continued onward for another 45 minutes until we reached our intended destination: a bluff that sits about 200 feet about Lago Argentino, resulting in a steep drop into the lake. Many, many pictures were taken and we made our return back. The landscape here is almost martian and no plant grows higher than a few feet. My guess is that the constant wind coupled with apparent nutrient deficient soil makes for poor agricultural conditions. The only economy this place has going for it is tourism which is both a blessing and a curse.
Up until a few years ago, El Calafate was a dusty outpost where Argentines could come to covalesce on the banks of Largo Argentino and perhaps visit the nearby glacier, Perito Moreno. That all changed in 2000 when the municipal government completed the new airport that was meant to service daily flights from Buenos Aires, Punta Arenas, Puerto Natales and Ushuaia. With this increase in available capacity comes a need to improve the current conditions of lodging and hotels. The result is a major construction boon that, while bringing plenty of dollars to the region, could ultimately have an irreperable effect on the natural surroundings. One of the joys of coming to Patagonia is experiencing the untamed landscape and harsh conditions that make up the climate in this part of the world. That may all disappear if the government doesn´t take steps to stem construction and cap the number of visitors that come into this town. I don´t have much hope but it´s not too late to make a change.
Mario and I had been chatting for the duration of the ride. He´s from Puerto Rico and his new wife hails from Ireland and having just been married 10 days ago, they were spending their honeymoon here in Argentina. We began talking about the respective places we have been and as the ride wound down Mario was kind enough to invite me for lunch and we took almuerzo in a regional restaurant in town. After a portion of blood sausage, I took my main course of a delicious local trout while Mario and Hillary split a portion of lamb. The serving style here is certainly unique as they don´t spend much time on presentation and instead, focus on the quality of the mean which is sublime. We downed a bottle of local Malbec and parted ways but not before exchanging email addresses and the like. A wonderful couple and one of the many people I hope to keep in touch with when I return home.
I was planning on renting a car and exploring the surrounding landscape but lunch lasted longer than expected so I made my way to the Internet cafe where I type right now.
Observations:
1) The Internet connection at every place down here is extremely slow. So slow that I think their version of email involves an Andean Condor transporting your message from El Calafate to Buenos Aires, only to then have the message put into the computer and sent to its intended destination. It´s somewhat frustrating but I didn´t come down here to play video games and write Javascript so I´ll deal, even if it costs me $2.50 pesos every 15 minutes.
2) This town is obviously a toursit orriented kind of place but still retains some regional charm. I like it and there is a prevailing odor of baby powder that emenates throughout the entire resort. It´s kind of weird but it´s better than having the whole place smell like burnt rubber (ehem...Buenos Aires. are you listening?)
3)Driving from the airport last night was kind of an interesting experience. It´s 14 miles away from tomn and we didn´t see a light until I pulled into the hostel parking lot. If you need any confirmation that you are at the end of the earth, just fly into the airport and drive around for a while. You´ll see nothing more than asphalt, dirt and shrubs. That´s it.
4) Uncle Lammie: I didn´t have time to get your bag, I´m sorry but I´ll make it up to you by having a great time while thinking about you. That´s fair, no?
If you think I took a lot of pictures today the I suggest you hold onto your 1GB memory sticks because tomorrow is glacier time and the Canon SD1000 will be put to the test.
I´m heading back to the hostel and plan on chilling out for the rest of the day. I may do a night post after dinner but I have to be up so damn early tomorrow that I may just wait ´till tomorrow afternoon to get everything out.
One World!
Das Uber Coog
Good Morning from Patagonia and All Things Desolate Landscape
I checked into the America del Sur Hostel here in Calafate last night and was greeted very warmly by the staff. So warmly that when I walked in, bedraggled and spent after a full day of travelling, Marcos and David (the two desk guys) opened there arms as I walked through the door and shouted, "Eh-Satch. Hola!" It was heart warming and certainly a unique entrance. I asked Marcos how he knew I was "Eh-Satch" and his reply was "American name, American face." Great.
So I settled down in my room, a sparse one bed living space with a private bath and toilet, showered and got some dinner here in the hostel. They have a nightly barbecue with a terrific salad bar and gaucho meat (basically super-salted chicken or beef that is the epitome of tender and juicy). Apparently preparing it is quite easy and the difference lies not in the meat that is used but the barbecue which is unique to Argentina. It was phenomenal and I want to eat like that in New York every day. Chickens...run in fear!
I started chatting with a Sveeeedish couple during dinner who are 7 months into a 10-month world tour. They´ve done Asia, Australia, Europe and South America and when I asked them what the highlight has been so far they told me that they spent a month in the Bolivian Amazon teaching village kids English. In return for their services, they were required to pick their own rice and lentils for their food. It instantly reminded me of a kibbutz in Israel and they agreed, saying that the experience was very similar.
The hostel that I´m in right now differs greatly from the one I was at in Buenos Aires. First off the average age her is much higher. I expect that´s because it requires a few more pesos to make his trip which would prevent most of the people in Hostel Estoril from even considering this trip. The other reason is that El Calafate has seen a major boom in tourism over the past 5 years and a lot of families who may normally stay in more posh quarters are relegated to biding their time in a hostel. But make no mistake, while rustic this place is well run, clean and extremely fun to be at. It was ranked the Number 3 hostel in all of South America in 2006 and when it dies, it will acheive complete and total consciousness, so it´s got that going for it, which is nice.
I woke up this morning at 7am thinking that I would have some time to get the day started, have a coffee, read some information about this place. I went to the front desk and spoke to the woman there who started franticaly telling me that my bus would be here any minute to take me to the glacier. I had no idea what she was talking about as I hadn´t made a reservation for any trip to the glacier yet. I ran back to my room, threw on anything I could find and raced out to the waiting area. Sitting there for 20 minutes I decided to ask where this reservation came from when Justina realized that it wasn´t my room that had the bus trip at 7 but the room next to me. Sweet. All that hustle and bustle was for nothing but at least it gave me a chance to set up the tours that I´ll be doing for the 3 days that I´m here. So here´s what I´ve got, and if jealousy sets in, just remember that anyone else reading this will be feeling the same way you are.
Today I head out at 9:30 for a horse back riding trip that takes you around Lago Argentino. It´s supposed to give you magnificent views of the Perito Moreno glacier and the surrounding mountains. You get lunch and about 4 hours of riding before you´re taken back to the hostel.
Thursday I hop on a boat which takes you on the lake. It starts by putting you less than 200 yards away from Perito Moreno and then makes it´s way around to the Upsala glacier which is even bigger and more striking.
The final day is the true cherry on the top of this whole trip: Big Ice Minitrekking. A trip back to Perito Moreno, you and 14 other people get a brief intorduction to ice hiking when you are then given crampons (spikes that attach to the bottom of your shoes) where you hike on the actual glacier for 7 miles. It requires you to be in good shape but I don´t think I´ll have a problem, but if I do, dying on a glacier would certainly be a way to go.
So there you have it. Like I said yesterday, there´s only one computer in the hostel so I´ll see what I can do in terms of getting some updates out there. The hostel does have free WiFi so perhaps I can strike a deal with one of the Brits here who is always on his iMac.
Todo Mundo!
Eh-Satch
So I settled down in my room, a sparse one bed living space with a private bath and toilet, showered and got some dinner here in the hostel. They have a nightly barbecue with a terrific salad bar and gaucho meat (basically super-salted chicken or beef that is the epitome of tender and juicy). Apparently preparing it is quite easy and the difference lies not in the meat that is used but the barbecue which is unique to Argentina. It was phenomenal and I want to eat like that in New York every day. Chickens...run in fear!
I started chatting with a Sveeeedish couple during dinner who are 7 months into a 10-month world tour. They´ve done Asia, Australia, Europe and South America and when I asked them what the highlight has been so far they told me that they spent a month in the Bolivian Amazon teaching village kids English. In return for their services, they were required to pick their own rice and lentils for their food. It instantly reminded me of a kibbutz in Israel and they agreed, saying that the experience was very similar.
The hostel that I´m in right now differs greatly from the one I was at in Buenos Aires. First off the average age her is much higher. I expect that´s because it requires a few more pesos to make his trip which would prevent most of the people in Hostel Estoril from even considering this trip. The other reason is that El Calafate has seen a major boom in tourism over the past 5 years and a lot of families who may normally stay in more posh quarters are relegated to biding their time in a hostel. But make no mistake, while rustic this place is well run, clean and extremely fun to be at. It was ranked the Number 3 hostel in all of South America in 2006 and when it dies, it will acheive complete and total consciousness, so it´s got that going for it, which is nice.
I woke up this morning at 7am thinking that I would have some time to get the day started, have a coffee, read some information about this place. I went to the front desk and spoke to the woman there who started franticaly telling me that my bus would be here any minute to take me to the glacier. I had no idea what she was talking about as I hadn´t made a reservation for any trip to the glacier yet. I ran back to my room, threw on anything I could find and raced out to the waiting area. Sitting there for 20 minutes I decided to ask where this reservation came from when Justina realized that it wasn´t my room that had the bus trip at 7 but the room next to me. Sweet. All that hustle and bustle was for nothing but at least it gave me a chance to set up the tours that I´ll be doing for the 3 days that I´m here. So here´s what I´ve got, and if jealousy sets in, just remember that anyone else reading this will be feeling the same way you are.
Today I head out at 9:30 for a horse back riding trip that takes you around Lago Argentino. It´s supposed to give you magnificent views of the Perito Moreno glacier and the surrounding mountains. You get lunch and about 4 hours of riding before you´re taken back to the hostel.
Thursday I hop on a boat which takes you on the lake. It starts by putting you less than 200 yards away from Perito Moreno and then makes it´s way around to the Upsala glacier which is even bigger and more striking.
The final day is the true cherry on the top of this whole trip: Big Ice Minitrekking. A trip back to Perito Moreno, you and 14 other people get a brief intorduction to ice hiking when you are then given crampons (spikes that attach to the bottom of your shoes) where you hike on the actual glacier for 7 miles. It requires you to be in good shape but I don´t think I´ll have a problem, but if I do, dying on a glacier would certainly be a way to go.
So there you have it. Like I said yesterday, there´s only one computer in the hostel so I´ll see what I can do in terms of getting some updates out there. The hostel does have free WiFi so perhaps I can strike a deal with one of the Brits here who is always on his iMac.
Todo Mundo!
Eh-Satch
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Day Six: Further South Than Any Kubin In History
Hola from the legitamate bottom of the Earth. I´m strapped for time but here´s what´s happend in the past few days:
I spent yesterday with Vivian Holz in Mendoza. She was kind enough to act as my personal tour guide which was very gracious of her. We started off at the Norton winery bodega which afforded the opportunity of some breathtaking scenery and wine tasting. The vineyards overlook 20,000 foot Andean peaks. Safe to say that if I had to work there I´d spend the entire day just staring west and probably be fired within 48 hours for being that drunk naked guy screaming at the mountains. A wonderful place: rustic, charming and rather sophisticated.
After sampling some wines at the tasting bar Vivan took me back to her place for a little lunch and then we headed into the mountains for a brief tour of the Argentine side of the second tallest range in the world. I´ve been to the Chilean side which is decidely more lush. The Argentine side of the Andes, while striking, is barren. There is virtually no vegetation besides the ocassional displaced brush. Given the majestic landscape it makes for some pretty arid scenery. We made our way up to Potrerillos, a huge dam constructed by the Argentines to harness the water that comes from the mountains. Mendoza gets less than 5 inches of rain per year so they need pretty much every drop of the wet stuff. The lake side of the dam is incredible. The water is a florescent shade of Carolina blue and just pops out of the red mountains in an incredible chromatic juxtaposition. I have plenty of pictures of me standing awkwardly with the lake behind me as Vivian snapped away.
Dinner was also a delight. Luis was kind enough to take us all out to one of the best restaurants in town and seeing as Mendoza is known for it´s wine and food, the restaurant, where the name eludes me at the moment, did not disappoint. I go the roasted corn which was baked within the husk, followed by a gaucho-style barbeque chicken breast. Succulent and juicy, it was grilled with just salt but was an all time great meal for me.
I spent the entire day today traveling all over the country. Left Mendoza, headed to Buenos Aires, then flew all the way down to Uiashia which is on Tierra del Fuego. The flight in was a highlight. I was secretly listening to my iPod as Eric Clapton´s ´The Endge of Darkness´ came on. Few things can prepare you for a dusk descent into Tierra del Fuego but the song just seemed so damn fitting. It was perfect. Surveying the barren and rugged landscape, I couldn´t help think what awaits me here in El Calafate. I plan on visiting the glaciers as well as El Chalten, the reknowned hiking town about 2 hours to the north.
The hostel I´m at right know has a wonderful energy. People young and old just mingling in the pine furnished living room, listening to tango and sipping on cervezas. There´s only one computer for the whole hostel which is why I´m pressed for time but the adventure begins tomorrow and I can´t wait.
Until then,
Zee Man
I spent yesterday with Vivian Holz in Mendoza. She was kind enough to act as my personal tour guide which was very gracious of her. We started off at the Norton winery bodega which afforded the opportunity of some breathtaking scenery and wine tasting. The vineyards overlook 20,000 foot Andean peaks. Safe to say that if I had to work there I´d spend the entire day just staring west and probably be fired within 48 hours for being that drunk naked guy screaming at the mountains. A wonderful place: rustic, charming and rather sophisticated.
After sampling some wines at the tasting bar Vivan took me back to her place for a little lunch and then we headed into the mountains for a brief tour of the Argentine side of the second tallest range in the world. I´ve been to the Chilean side which is decidely more lush. The Argentine side of the Andes, while striking, is barren. There is virtually no vegetation besides the ocassional displaced brush. Given the majestic landscape it makes for some pretty arid scenery. We made our way up to Potrerillos, a huge dam constructed by the Argentines to harness the water that comes from the mountains. Mendoza gets less than 5 inches of rain per year so they need pretty much every drop of the wet stuff. The lake side of the dam is incredible. The water is a florescent shade of Carolina blue and just pops out of the red mountains in an incredible chromatic juxtaposition. I have plenty of pictures of me standing awkwardly with the lake behind me as Vivian snapped away.
Dinner was also a delight. Luis was kind enough to take us all out to one of the best restaurants in town and seeing as Mendoza is known for it´s wine and food, the restaurant, where the name eludes me at the moment, did not disappoint. I go the roasted corn which was baked within the husk, followed by a gaucho-style barbeque chicken breast. Succulent and juicy, it was grilled with just salt but was an all time great meal for me.
I spent the entire day today traveling all over the country. Left Mendoza, headed to Buenos Aires, then flew all the way down to Uiashia which is on Tierra del Fuego. The flight in was a highlight. I was secretly listening to my iPod as Eric Clapton´s ´The Endge of Darkness´ came on. Few things can prepare you for a dusk descent into Tierra del Fuego but the song just seemed so damn fitting. It was perfect. Surveying the barren and rugged landscape, I couldn´t help think what awaits me here in El Calafate. I plan on visiting the glaciers as well as El Chalten, the reknowned hiking town about 2 hours to the north.
The hostel I´m at right know has a wonderful energy. People young and old just mingling in the pine furnished living room, listening to tango and sipping on cervezas. There´s only one computer for the whole hostel which is why I´m pressed for time but the adventure begins tomorrow and I can´t wait.
Until then,
Zee Man
Update on Lack of Posting
So I haven´t really had the time to get stuff down on digital paper because I´ve been running around with Vivian since I´ve gotten to Mendoza. I´m heading to the airport in a half hour where I´ll have a four hour layover. The plan is for me to hit up an Internet Locutoria and get some serious words out as I´ve had quite a time here in wine country.
PZ.
Z.
PZ.
Z.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Day Cinco: El Ciudad de Detroit Piedra
Fine, so yesterday was the first day I didn´t post. You wanna fight about it? It´s a rather chilly morning here in Mendoza but let me recap the past 36 hours before you meet me out front:
After the post I headed up to the hostel bar and started chatting with an American girl from Baltimore who lives in LA. Seemed super nice, had a one-way ticket to Argentina and told me she was going to Bariloche on Monday. She was rolling solo as well and we started talking about Calafate and my plans to rent a car there despite my very limited stick driving experience (shout out to Dad and that time you woke up the Kraskys after 5 minute of teaching me to drive a manual). The offer was that she would come down and drive stick and we´d go check out the glaciers but getting down there turned out to be a 42 hour bus ride for her and in the end was too much of a pain in the ass. Too bad. Meanwhile, I know some readers of this blog who are probably saying to themselves "I´d take a 42 hour bus ride just to get away from Kubin. What is this girl thinking?" Thanks Matt, even when I´m 6,000 miles away from you I can still read your gerbil brain. GFY.
Spent the last night in Buenos Aires with a few Enligsh speaking guys from the hostel. The squad was made up of two Americans, a Brit, an Aussie and an Irish guy who spoke with no breaths or pauses in between words. Guy should come with subtitles. I had no clue what the hell he was talking about so just kept nodding everytime he started speaking and laughed when he laughed. This strategy worked as long as he didn´t ask a question and when he did ask a question there was about 10 seconds of awkward slience before he´d laugh and I´d follow suit. We headed out to Palermo to grab a bite to eat and some beers. Dinner slowly turned to drinks and the next thing you know it was 2am and we were all beat. James, the Brit, Victor, Victor´s friend Jake and I all headed home and I thanked Victor for being a teriffic tour guide during my stay in BA.
Woke up yesterday morning feeling somewhat ill (I´ll be kind and spare you the details), packed up my bag and spent the morning watching Sunday futbol on the TV with some of the hostel pack. We eventually settled on Man U v. Arsenal but unfortunately had to leave for my plane at the half only to see that all the offensive fireworks took place after I left. Man U took the game 2-1. Boo.
Flight was good, landed in Mendoza to visit Vivian Holz and on the plane ride realizied that not only have I not met this woman but I´ve never even seen a picture of her. I could very easily ask someone if they´re Vivian and end up duct taped to some chair in an Argentine basement while preparing myself to become a ritualistic sacrifice. My fears were just that, pretty easy to spot Vivian as she said I looked just like Dad which is either a major compliment for him or a major insult to me. Not sure yet.
Vivan, Luis (boyfriend) and Daphne (daughter) spent the afternoon driving me around Mendoza to show me the sights which are quite dramatic. Mendoza is situated right on at the feet of the incredibly imposing Andes. Anywhere you go here you´re bound to see the peak of some 18,000 mountain looming over you, it´s tres sweet. The four of us then headed out to dinner at a very nice Itallian place in town where all the pasta is homemade (I got the gnocchi with tomato sauce) and then headed home for the night.
I have some other observations which will have to wait ´till tonight as I´m heading out with Vivian for a wine tour and other Mendoza related activities.
Viva,
Le Kuby
After the post I headed up to the hostel bar and started chatting with an American girl from Baltimore who lives in LA. Seemed super nice, had a one-way ticket to Argentina and told me she was going to Bariloche on Monday. She was rolling solo as well and we started talking about Calafate and my plans to rent a car there despite my very limited stick driving experience (shout out to Dad and that time you woke up the Kraskys after 5 minute of teaching me to drive a manual). The offer was that she would come down and drive stick and we´d go check out the glaciers but getting down there turned out to be a 42 hour bus ride for her and in the end was too much of a pain in the ass. Too bad. Meanwhile, I know some readers of this blog who are probably saying to themselves "I´d take a 42 hour bus ride just to get away from Kubin. What is this girl thinking?" Thanks Matt, even when I´m 6,000 miles away from you I can still read your gerbil brain. GFY.
Spent the last night in Buenos Aires with a few Enligsh speaking guys from the hostel. The squad was made up of two Americans, a Brit, an Aussie and an Irish guy who spoke with no breaths or pauses in between words. Guy should come with subtitles. I had no clue what the hell he was talking about so just kept nodding everytime he started speaking and laughed when he laughed. This strategy worked as long as he didn´t ask a question and when he did ask a question there was about 10 seconds of awkward slience before he´d laugh and I´d follow suit. We headed out to Palermo to grab a bite to eat and some beers. Dinner slowly turned to drinks and the next thing you know it was 2am and we were all beat. James, the Brit, Victor, Victor´s friend Jake and I all headed home and I thanked Victor for being a teriffic tour guide during my stay in BA.
Woke up yesterday morning feeling somewhat ill (I´ll be kind and spare you the details), packed up my bag and spent the morning watching Sunday futbol on the TV with some of the hostel pack. We eventually settled on Man U v. Arsenal but unfortunately had to leave for my plane at the half only to see that all the offensive fireworks took place after I left. Man U took the game 2-1. Boo.
Flight was good, landed in Mendoza to visit Vivian Holz and on the plane ride realizied that not only have I not met this woman but I´ve never even seen a picture of her. I could very easily ask someone if they´re Vivian and end up duct taped to some chair in an Argentine basement while preparing myself to become a ritualistic sacrifice. My fears were just that, pretty easy to spot Vivian as she said I looked just like Dad which is either a major compliment for him or a major insult to me. Not sure yet.
Vivan, Luis (boyfriend) and Daphne (daughter) spent the afternoon driving me around Mendoza to show me the sights which are quite dramatic. Mendoza is situated right on at the feet of the incredibly imposing Andes. Anywhere you go here you´re bound to see the peak of some 18,000 mountain looming over you, it´s tres sweet. The four of us then headed out to dinner at a very nice Itallian place in town where all the pasta is homemade (I got the gnocchi with tomato sauce) and then headed home for the night.
I have some other observations which will have to wait ´till tonight as I´m heading out with Vivian for a wine tour and other Mendoza related activities.
Viva,
Le Kuby
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Day Cuatro: Who Wants To Be A Milion-aire?
The past 24 hours have been fantastic. And you know why? Because I´m having a good time, that´s why. Care to hear about it?
After the post last night I headed back to the hostel to see that my new roommates were a bunch of girls (including one ambigiously gay dude) from the States who work in Sao Paolo. Anne is from Seattle, Tina is from Ohio, Sandra is from "I guess you could say DC" as she put it and Todd is from Breckenridge. Good crew. They don´t keep weird hours, welcome sleeping with the fan on, speak English, and shower on a so far regular basis. The room that I checked into that simmered at around 85 degrees with a strong aroma of feet has been transformed into an enjoyable climate with no discernable odor. I like that.
My siesta was great, got some sleep and popped out of bed at 10:45 with a text from my defacto tour guide and number one reader, Victor, who told me to meet him at a Recoleta bar called Milion sometime around midnight. I was more than pleasantly surprised to see that Milion was no ordinary bar but a tricked out townhouse with 3 floors of restaurant/bar/chillout areas. I was in love with the place from the super-cool scene to the artwork to the good-looking and well-dressed crowd. It was sophisticated but not pretentious, a line that way too many places back home cross over. I got there before Victor and his friend Derek and managed to stake out a position in the corner of the bar area, clearly making me that creepy guy in the corner sipping on a Red Bull with vodka while not talking to anyone. Victor and Derek came to my rescue a little while longer and we took an upstairs position overlooking the 2nd floor. A litle late after coming from a punk rock concert with the daughter of his host mom, Victor went into some story about moshpitting and swift kicks to the chest that took place at the show. Can´t say I was upset about missing it but it gave me a serious laugh. A few minutes of drinking gave way to going back down to the 2nd floor for dinner (at around 1am no less) and having not eaten anything since 10am I ordered a really tasty empanada. Frankly my belt would have been really tasty at that point, I was more than a bit peckish.
Observation alert: I´ve come to realize that I, as with all other humans, am a creature of habit. On a typical day of work I´ll get up at the same time, shower, dress, take the same train to the same stop, get the same thing for breakfast with the same cup of coffee and usually repeat this routine again and again. But traveling to a foreign country, especially alone, completely messes with your routine to the point where you actually forget to eat. It´s not because I´m not hungry but because that Starbucks where I normally get my grande coffee with an egg wrap isn´t downstairs. And because it´s not downstairs I just move on and forget about it. It´s not because I´m anorexic (anyone who has seen a photo of me at any point in my life can slash that off the list) but because I don´t have a place to go. The grander point here is that after being here for just a few days I now see that instead of just a vacation this trip is more like a life reboot. An opportunity for me to completely disconnect myself from the day-to-day routines that I´ve settled into, giving me the chance to take a step back and give my life a chance to take a little breather. This, my friends, is a very, very good thing and recommend it to anyone.
So, back to Miliones. Derek, Victor and I took a table and traded a few stories and beers until a girl at the table next to us asked Victor if he was speaking Hebrew. Not sure if that was a pickup line but it got us to move over to their table where we started chatting with the three girls: one from England, one from Scotland and one from the Land of Mute and Disinterested Cold Bitches Who Have Been Recently Fired From Their Job as The Guardian of The Fifth Ring of Hell (aside: I believe that country, the often difficult to pronounce acronym LMDCBWHBRFFTJTGTFRH, has applied for membership to the UN but was recently rejected). This is when the whole not eating thing began to catch up with me a bit. You see, Victor took a bit of a liking to the British girl which left me with no choice but to talk with the Scot. While nice, after 30 minutes of talking and only 3 drinks I began to see her face start to wobble. I felt like I was Dr. Gonzo from ¨Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas¨ when he starts hallucinating in the bar and sees people as dinosaurs. I stared blankly at her face while blinking my eyes in an exaggerated manner. She asked if I was OK and, realizing this conversation could end up with me seizing on he floor, I took my leave. She´s planning on going to El Calafate on Monday, as am I, so we made plans to try and meet up but I won´t lose any sleep over it.
After my first solid night of sleep and took the show to the Aerolineas Argentinas office down the street where I booked tomorrow´s flight to Mendoza completely in Spanish. Up to now, my proudest moment of the trip. I then hit up Casa Rosa for a photo op, walked around a bit and headed out to Palermo Soho for lunc with Victor and a few friends at a place called Olsen. Olsen is the kind of place that locals think is too trendy but tourists flock to. It´s a Scandinavian spread with good food and a supremely relaxing ambiance. Lush gardens, a water sculpture and wood everywhere make it sleek but chilled out. Proved to be a solid move. I ordered up graxlax on a bluberry blini with roast potatoes and corn soup and just took in the atmosphere for the better part of the early afternoon.
I parted ways with group and resumed my solo tour of BSAS, heading to MALBA (Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires). It´s much smaller than the MoMA in NYC but maybe even cooler. The top floor was a career retrospective of a Brazilian artist named Tarsila do Amaral who almost immediately became one of my all-time favorite artists. She´s got a style very reminiscent of Bottero but far more colorful and playful. One of the final works she ever did named ´Segunda classe´ was stunning. I sat infront of the painting for a solid 10 minutes in total awe. Google it if you want a worthwhile explanation. the second floor was filled with Latin artists from the last century, most notably Antonio Berni. Some notable pieces were an American millitary plane hanging nose down from the celing with Jesus being crucified on its wings another had the faces of workers from all over Latin America. The direction the curator has chosen clearly refects the Latin social phenomena of the past century. Most works feature a leftist angle and nearly all have some subverted political message. While now democratic, it is still clear as you walk around this city that these people still have past events of millitary rule and secret police very much engrained in their consciousness and certainly shows in the numerous number of protests that I have witnessed since being here. These people know what´s it´s like to have their rights infringed upon and being able to freely speak their mind is still a new thing that they certainly take advantage of.
The day ended quite nicely with Victor, Derek and I finding a spot overlooking one of the city parks and sharing some ´mata,´ an hebal tea like beverage that is taken very seriously here by the locals. At first I thought it tasted like jet fuel but quickly came to like it and it´s coffee like buzz. Perhaps there´s a market for this stuff in the States?
My time in Buenos Aires is coming to a close and I have fallen for this city. While still dodgy in some areas, it is sophisticated, cosmopolitan and super hot. I vow to return and will not be the list bit surprised when American tourists start flocking here in droves, in fact it´s already started.
It wouln´t be a post without some extemporaneous (sic?) observations:
1) I took the A line Subte today which was quite charming. The trains from the 50´s are still used today which means you get the same wooden interiors with vinage Argentine ads selling everything from handsoap to horse carriages. It was a blast from the past. Loved it.
2) The Argentine people are far less conservative than their American counterparts. I know that´s no startling revelation but it does get a little weird when every square inch of every park is taken by a couple engaging in the ubiquitous sport of cataglottis (look that one up Dad!). That said, having a liberal perspective on life makes me believe that these people are less deviant than Americans as well. My guess is that if Larry Craig or Eliot Spitzer lived down here, people wouldn´t treat their issues with much regard. I like that.
3) Ran into a couple from Wisconsin on the train today with the wife wearing an ´Wisconsin for Obama´ pin. She told me that people here stop her in the streets pleading that he win the election. Ask me who is running for the presidency or prime minister of any other country and I couldn´t tell you but that just goes to show you how important the politics of our country is to others in the world. I just wish all those people could vote.
Tomorrow I´m off to Mendoza to visit Vivian Holz, seeing as it´s a travel day I probably won´t have much to write but if I do or see something worthwhile you know it´ll be in here.
Signing Off,
Farms
After the post last night I headed back to the hostel to see that my new roommates were a bunch of girls (including one ambigiously gay dude) from the States who work in Sao Paolo. Anne is from Seattle, Tina is from Ohio, Sandra is from "I guess you could say DC" as she put it and Todd is from Breckenridge. Good crew. They don´t keep weird hours, welcome sleeping with the fan on, speak English, and shower on a so far regular basis. The room that I checked into that simmered at around 85 degrees with a strong aroma of feet has been transformed into an enjoyable climate with no discernable odor. I like that.
My siesta was great, got some sleep and popped out of bed at 10:45 with a text from my defacto tour guide and number one reader, Victor, who told me to meet him at a Recoleta bar called Milion sometime around midnight. I was more than pleasantly surprised to see that Milion was no ordinary bar but a tricked out townhouse with 3 floors of restaurant/bar/chillout areas. I was in love with the place from the super-cool scene to the artwork to the good-looking and well-dressed crowd. It was sophisticated but not pretentious, a line that way too many places back home cross over. I got there before Victor and his friend Derek and managed to stake out a position in the corner of the bar area, clearly making me that creepy guy in the corner sipping on a Red Bull with vodka while not talking to anyone. Victor and Derek came to my rescue a little while longer and we took an upstairs position overlooking the 2nd floor. A litle late after coming from a punk rock concert with the daughter of his host mom, Victor went into some story about moshpitting and swift kicks to the chest that took place at the show. Can´t say I was upset about missing it but it gave me a serious laugh. A few minutes of drinking gave way to going back down to the 2nd floor for dinner (at around 1am no less) and having not eaten anything since 10am I ordered a really tasty empanada. Frankly my belt would have been really tasty at that point, I was more than a bit peckish.
Observation alert: I´ve come to realize that I, as with all other humans, am a creature of habit. On a typical day of work I´ll get up at the same time, shower, dress, take the same train to the same stop, get the same thing for breakfast with the same cup of coffee and usually repeat this routine again and again. But traveling to a foreign country, especially alone, completely messes with your routine to the point where you actually forget to eat. It´s not because I´m not hungry but because that Starbucks where I normally get my grande coffee with an egg wrap isn´t downstairs. And because it´s not downstairs I just move on and forget about it. It´s not because I´m anorexic (anyone who has seen a photo of me at any point in my life can slash that off the list) but because I don´t have a place to go. The grander point here is that after being here for just a few days I now see that instead of just a vacation this trip is more like a life reboot. An opportunity for me to completely disconnect myself from the day-to-day routines that I´ve settled into, giving me the chance to take a step back and give my life a chance to take a little breather. This, my friends, is a very, very good thing and recommend it to anyone.
So, back to Miliones. Derek, Victor and I took a table and traded a few stories and beers until a girl at the table next to us asked Victor if he was speaking Hebrew. Not sure if that was a pickup line but it got us to move over to their table where we started chatting with the three girls: one from England, one from Scotland and one from the Land of Mute and Disinterested Cold Bitches Who Have Been Recently Fired From Their Job as The Guardian of The Fifth Ring of Hell (aside: I believe that country, the often difficult to pronounce acronym LMDCBWHBRFFTJTGTFRH, has applied for membership to the UN but was recently rejected). This is when the whole not eating thing began to catch up with me a bit. You see, Victor took a bit of a liking to the British girl which left me with no choice but to talk with the Scot. While nice, after 30 minutes of talking and only 3 drinks I began to see her face start to wobble. I felt like I was Dr. Gonzo from ¨Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas¨ when he starts hallucinating in the bar and sees people as dinosaurs. I stared blankly at her face while blinking my eyes in an exaggerated manner. She asked if I was OK and, realizing this conversation could end up with me seizing on he floor, I took my leave. She´s planning on going to El Calafate on Monday, as am I, so we made plans to try and meet up but I won´t lose any sleep over it.
After my first solid night of sleep and took the show to the Aerolineas Argentinas office down the street where I booked tomorrow´s flight to Mendoza completely in Spanish. Up to now, my proudest moment of the trip. I then hit up Casa Rosa for a photo op, walked around a bit and headed out to Palermo Soho for lunc with Victor and a few friends at a place called Olsen. Olsen is the kind of place that locals think is too trendy but tourists flock to. It´s a Scandinavian spread with good food and a supremely relaxing ambiance. Lush gardens, a water sculpture and wood everywhere make it sleek but chilled out. Proved to be a solid move. I ordered up graxlax on a bluberry blini with roast potatoes and corn soup and just took in the atmosphere for the better part of the early afternoon.
I parted ways with group and resumed my solo tour of BSAS, heading to MALBA (Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires). It´s much smaller than the MoMA in NYC but maybe even cooler. The top floor was a career retrospective of a Brazilian artist named Tarsila do Amaral who almost immediately became one of my all-time favorite artists. She´s got a style very reminiscent of Bottero but far more colorful and playful. One of the final works she ever did named ´Segunda classe´ was stunning. I sat infront of the painting for a solid 10 minutes in total awe. Google it if you want a worthwhile explanation. the second floor was filled with Latin artists from the last century, most notably Antonio Berni. Some notable pieces were an American millitary plane hanging nose down from the celing with Jesus being crucified on its wings another had the faces of workers from all over Latin America. The direction the curator has chosen clearly refects the Latin social phenomena of the past century. Most works feature a leftist angle and nearly all have some subverted political message. While now democratic, it is still clear as you walk around this city that these people still have past events of millitary rule and secret police very much engrained in their consciousness and certainly shows in the numerous number of protests that I have witnessed since being here. These people know what´s it´s like to have their rights infringed upon and being able to freely speak their mind is still a new thing that they certainly take advantage of.
The day ended quite nicely with Victor, Derek and I finding a spot overlooking one of the city parks and sharing some ´mata,´ an hebal tea like beverage that is taken very seriously here by the locals. At first I thought it tasted like jet fuel but quickly came to like it and it´s coffee like buzz. Perhaps there´s a market for this stuff in the States?
My time in Buenos Aires is coming to a close and I have fallen for this city. While still dodgy in some areas, it is sophisticated, cosmopolitan and super hot. I vow to return and will not be the list bit surprised when American tourists start flocking here in droves, in fact it´s already started.
It wouln´t be a post without some extemporaneous (sic?) observations:
1) I took the A line Subte today which was quite charming. The trains from the 50´s are still used today which means you get the same wooden interiors with vinage Argentine ads selling everything from handsoap to horse carriages. It was a blast from the past. Loved it.
2) The Argentine people are far less conservative than their American counterparts. I know that´s no startling revelation but it does get a little weird when every square inch of every park is taken by a couple engaging in the ubiquitous sport of cataglottis (look that one up Dad!). That said, having a liberal perspective on life makes me believe that these people are less deviant than Americans as well. My guess is that if Larry Craig or Eliot Spitzer lived down here, people wouldn´t treat their issues with much regard. I like that.
3) Ran into a couple from Wisconsin on the train today with the wife wearing an ´Wisconsin for Obama´ pin. She told me that people here stop her in the streets pleading that he win the election. Ask me who is running for the presidency or prime minister of any other country and I couldn´t tell you but that just goes to show you how important the politics of our country is to others in the world. I just wish all those people could vote.
Tomorrow I´m off to Mendoza to visit Vivian Holz, seeing as it´s a travel day I probably won´t have much to write but if I do or see something worthwhile you know it´ll be in here.
Signing Off,
Farms
Friday, April 11, 2008
Day Tres: Uruguay? Dude, That´s Cool Just As Long As You Don´t Hit On Me
What is with these people? Dinner doesn´t start till midnight, the bars don´t start hopping until 2, and everyone goes home at 6 only to be at work at 10? Do they just not sleep or is crystal-meth considered part of their government wellness program? Here´s the recap:
Went out with Victor again last night to a bar called Bangalore. Good stuff. After giving him some sound career advice "ex: Dude, work sucks compared to college" we met up with a few girls, one from Canada and the other from England. Spent the hours of 11:30pm to about 2am doing shots and generally causing a ruckus, always an enjoyable experience. We then hit Club 69 for transvesdite night. Oh yes! I don´t think I´ve ever been to a popular nightclub only to be greeted by a more than Rubenesque man dressed in a Garfield outfit and sporting glitter and heels, I was not sure what to make of it so I took a picture with him/her/it. The club was a little too Euro for me with all the un-tss-un-tss-un-tss music that is so popular down here so I took my leave at around 4am and jumped into a waiting taxi. Big mistake.
I wrote about the ´Taxi Mafia´ the other day and if this Mafia is anything like the one on TV and in the movies then this guy would have been a high ranking cappo. I´ve never seen a meter go from $3.00 to $9.31 in 6 seconds. Unfortunately I was texting Beans (shout out!) and didn´t realize what was going on until we started making superfluous circles around parts of town that I had seen 10 minutes ago. At this point the meter was nearing $30 and I had a strong feeling that I was being taken for two rides at once. I demanded to get out of the cab to which the driver said "No," and suddenly had visions of my body being pulled out of the Rio Plata. There are times in life when you´re finely honed evolutionary fight or flight instinct kicks into overdrive and you either have the urge to sprint mach 3 in any direction possible or bench press Toyotas while smiting tribes of people. Seeing as I was in a foreign country at 4 in the morning with a driver who could very well be armed while trying to take every peso and credit card on my person I very carefully reached into my pocket, discretly puled out a $20 and $10, threw the bills on the passenger seat and freaking bolted. (Aside: I never new I could run a 6.2 second 100meter dash). I just started running down the avenue, hair on fire and luckily ran into another open taxi (a Radio Taxi this time). He asked me if I was OK to which I responded "El otro taxi es un criminal." He totally understood and proceeded to take me the 3 blocks to my hostel. Yeah, it was the right thing to do but I didn´t know I was so close but hey, better parting with 4 pesos than my whole wallet and possibly a few fingers. First real scare of the trip, wasn´t pretty but I´m here.
Unfortunately, I was so worked up and had so much adrenaline screaming through my body that I could barely sleep and in my insomnia filled night thought that it might be wise for me to get out of BSAS for a while. Solution: Uruguay.
After an ice-cold shower to wake me up a bit I headed to the front desk and asked if going to Colonia del Sacramento was a good idea. Having just been named a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1997 for imaculately maintained 17th century Portugese architecture, Colonia del Sacramento served three purposes for me: 1) I´m a history buff and this was a historical place 2)It got me another stamp on my passport 3)It got me out of Buenos Aires for the day. It paid off, at least on the way there. The trip is by boat and requires fording the 40-mile wide mouth of the Rio Plate which the high-speed boat did with ease. While it is indeed an idyllic sort of place with wide open piazzas, cobblestone streets and quaint cafes, it´s a bit small. Spending 4 hours there turned out to be extensive and I spent the entire afternoon sipping an espresso, reading a book and watching the silty river make it´s way towards the Atlantic. Actually turned out to be a nice breather despite the fact that my shorts and t-shirt look left me ill-equipped for the 60 degree, overcast conditions featuring a guest apperance from a very brisk and consistent wind. I also managed to meet up with a couple of guys from Vancouver: Mike and Scorpio (yeah...I didn´t ask). We managed to chat about the ´94 Stanley Cup, a still festering wound on their consciousness, and exchanged small talk to the point where we ended up sitting together on the way home.
Now, the boat that took us out there was big and fast, a nice combination because it gets you to where you want to go quickly and if the water is choppy the vessel can just slice right through everything. Neither Mike, nor Scorpio (yes, that is his real name) nor I new that we´d be taking the SS Minnow on the way home. I knew things were not looking so promising when the attendants starting handing out preemptive vomit bags before we left the harbor (Hmmm...they didn´t do this on the way here I thought). Not 30 seconds had gone by before this deluxe motorboat started listing and tilting and causing feelings that make me nauseated just writing this. A young man in the row ahead of us turned around and we could see that he was struggling; covered in flop sweat with his face resembling the color of a Greek marble statue, I soon realized that this guy´s lunch wouldn´t be making the normal anatomical exit. Sure enough the bag came out and the people sitting next to him left in the same manner and with the same facial expression as one would if a total stranger just started showing you nude photos of himself. The ride was seriously brutal. It was an hour and twenty minutes of "movin´and groovin´" but we made it to the other side unscathed and. Despite being good guys, Mike and Scorpio (seriously!) are leaving tomorrow so I doubt I´ll be seeing them again and we parted ways. I took a brisk walk through Avenida de Florida which remdinded me a lot of walking down 5th avenue during the holiday season except it was warmer and people weren´t strangely happy. I´m now off for a much needed seista but not before my daily observations:
1) There was a slight drizzle on the walk back from the port. Fine, no big deal except that the urban planners thought it would be a good idea to make the sidewalks with a material that, when wet, has the same friction coefficient of freshly Zambonied ice. Nice work. Who´s going to pay for my hip replacement after I bite it on the way home from the Internet cafe?
2) I´ve become quite close with a few of the people staying in the hostel. It´s something of a UN convention with James (Brit), Tio (German), Else (Dutch), Neil (Aussie), Nigel (Irish) and Ella (Norsk). If there is one uniting factor amongst all these people it´s their love of travel. Tio headed home today after a 3 month trip around South America. A year ago he went around India an Nepal by himself for 4 months. James has been in BA since December taking Spanish lessons. Else has been down here for 2 months and Neil is heading home in 2 weeks after being away from Australia since October. Beyond their love of travel also lies a simmering sense that none of these people has much direction in life. Neil has proven to be a tremendously intelligent and well-read individual but is 28 and has never had a job longer than 3 or 4 months. It´s like hanging out with Peter Pan´s Lost Boys but there is a lingering sense of depression that manages to weave its way into most conversations. They are genuinely in awe when I mention that I´ll be returning home to start a new job.
3) The first question foreigners tend to ask me after telling them I´m from America is "You didn´t vote for Bush did you?" While my answer is a resounding "No", I can tell you that he´s not the most popular guy amongst this set. I hate to say it but he has damaged the perception of America and Americans by foreigners for a very, very long time. Sad.
Well then, another disertation. Of for my siesta but I´ll be back tomorrow. Same place, different day!
Zed
Went out with Victor again last night to a bar called Bangalore. Good stuff. After giving him some sound career advice "ex: Dude, work sucks compared to college" we met up with a few girls, one from Canada and the other from England. Spent the hours of 11:30pm to about 2am doing shots and generally causing a ruckus, always an enjoyable experience. We then hit Club 69 for transvesdite night. Oh yes! I don´t think I´ve ever been to a popular nightclub only to be greeted by a more than Rubenesque man dressed in a Garfield outfit and sporting glitter and heels, I was not sure what to make of it so I took a picture with him/her/it. The club was a little too Euro for me with all the un-tss-un-tss-un-tss music that is so popular down here so I took my leave at around 4am and jumped into a waiting taxi. Big mistake.
I wrote about the ´Taxi Mafia´ the other day and if this Mafia is anything like the one on TV and in the movies then this guy would have been a high ranking cappo. I´ve never seen a meter go from $3.00 to $9.31 in 6 seconds. Unfortunately I was texting Beans (shout out!) and didn´t realize what was going on until we started making superfluous circles around parts of town that I had seen 10 minutes ago. At this point the meter was nearing $30 and I had a strong feeling that I was being taken for two rides at once. I demanded to get out of the cab to which the driver said "No," and suddenly had visions of my body being pulled out of the Rio Plata. There are times in life when you´re finely honed evolutionary fight or flight instinct kicks into overdrive and you either have the urge to sprint mach 3 in any direction possible or bench press Toyotas while smiting tribes of people. Seeing as I was in a foreign country at 4 in the morning with a driver who could very well be armed while trying to take every peso and credit card on my person I very carefully reached into my pocket, discretly puled out a $20 and $10, threw the bills on the passenger seat and freaking bolted. (Aside: I never new I could run a 6.2 second 100meter dash). I just started running down the avenue, hair on fire and luckily ran into another open taxi (a Radio Taxi this time). He asked me if I was OK to which I responded "El otro taxi es un criminal." He totally understood and proceeded to take me the 3 blocks to my hostel. Yeah, it was the right thing to do but I didn´t know I was so close but hey, better parting with 4 pesos than my whole wallet and possibly a few fingers. First real scare of the trip, wasn´t pretty but I´m here.
Unfortunately, I was so worked up and had so much adrenaline screaming through my body that I could barely sleep and in my insomnia filled night thought that it might be wise for me to get out of BSAS for a while. Solution: Uruguay.
After an ice-cold shower to wake me up a bit I headed to the front desk and asked if going to Colonia del Sacramento was a good idea. Having just been named a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1997 for imaculately maintained 17th century Portugese architecture, Colonia del Sacramento served three purposes for me: 1) I´m a history buff and this was a historical place 2)It got me another stamp on my passport 3)It got me out of Buenos Aires for the day. It paid off, at least on the way there. The trip is by boat and requires fording the 40-mile wide mouth of the Rio Plate which the high-speed boat did with ease. While it is indeed an idyllic sort of place with wide open piazzas, cobblestone streets and quaint cafes, it´s a bit small. Spending 4 hours there turned out to be extensive and I spent the entire afternoon sipping an espresso, reading a book and watching the silty river make it´s way towards the Atlantic. Actually turned out to be a nice breather despite the fact that my shorts and t-shirt look left me ill-equipped for the 60 degree, overcast conditions featuring a guest apperance from a very brisk and consistent wind. I also managed to meet up with a couple of guys from Vancouver: Mike and Scorpio (yeah...I didn´t ask). We managed to chat about the ´94 Stanley Cup, a still festering wound on their consciousness, and exchanged small talk to the point where we ended up sitting together on the way home.
Now, the boat that took us out there was big and fast, a nice combination because it gets you to where you want to go quickly and if the water is choppy the vessel can just slice right through everything. Neither Mike, nor Scorpio (yes, that is his real name) nor I new that we´d be taking the SS Minnow on the way home. I knew things were not looking so promising when the attendants starting handing out preemptive vomit bags before we left the harbor (Hmmm...they didn´t do this on the way here I thought). Not 30 seconds had gone by before this deluxe motorboat started listing and tilting and causing feelings that make me nauseated just writing this. A young man in the row ahead of us turned around and we could see that he was struggling; covered in flop sweat with his face resembling the color of a Greek marble statue, I soon realized that this guy´s lunch wouldn´t be making the normal anatomical exit. Sure enough the bag came out and the people sitting next to him left in the same manner and with the same facial expression as one would if a total stranger just started showing you nude photos of himself. The ride was seriously brutal. It was an hour and twenty minutes of "movin´and groovin´" but we made it to the other side unscathed and. Despite being good guys, Mike and Scorpio (seriously!) are leaving tomorrow so I doubt I´ll be seeing them again and we parted ways. I took a brisk walk through Avenida de Florida which remdinded me a lot of walking down 5th avenue during the holiday season except it was warmer and people weren´t strangely happy. I´m now off for a much needed seista but not before my daily observations:
1) There was a slight drizzle on the walk back from the port. Fine, no big deal except that the urban planners thought it would be a good idea to make the sidewalks with a material that, when wet, has the same friction coefficient of freshly Zambonied ice. Nice work. Who´s going to pay for my hip replacement after I bite it on the way home from the Internet cafe?
2) I´ve become quite close with a few of the people staying in the hostel. It´s something of a UN convention with James (Brit), Tio (German), Else (Dutch), Neil (Aussie), Nigel (Irish) and Ella (Norsk). If there is one uniting factor amongst all these people it´s their love of travel. Tio headed home today after a 3 month trip around South America. A year ago he went around India an Nepal by himself for 4 months. James has been in BA since December taking Spanish lessons. Else has been down here for 2 months and Neil is heading home in 2 weeks after being away from Australia since October. Beyond their love of travel also lies a simmering sense that none of these people has much direction in life. Neil has proven to be a tremendously intelligent and well-read individual but is 28 and has never had a job longer than 3 or 4 months. It´s like hanging out with Peter Pan´s Lost Boys but there is a lingering sense of depression that manages to weave its way into most conversations. They are genuinely in awe when I mention that I´ll be returning home to start a new job.
3) The first question foreigners tend to ask me after telling them I´m from America is "You didn´t vote for Bush did you?" While my answer is a resounding "No", I can tell you that he´s not the most popular guy amongst this set. I hate to say it but he has damaged the perception of America and Americans by foreigners for a very, very long time. Sad.
Well then, another disertation. Of for my siesta but I´ll be back tomorrow. Same place, different day!
Zed
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Day Dos: The Day With A Lot of Fingers
First off, I´m freaking exhausted. I chugged a whole Gatorade after yesterday´s epic post but let´s see what I can conjure up for this one.
Met up with Victor Sanabria - Greg´s friend from HM - last night at a bar called Gibraltar. It´s in a secluded part of town (which means there was a greater chance of me getting robbed) so I decided to take a remise. The taxis here are decidely cheap, the total came to $6.50 pesos, which may seem a lot to all the Yanks in the room but actually comes down to about 2 bucks. The bar itself had a great vibe, an interesting mix of Argentines, British and American ex-pats and students. It´s actually owned by a guy from Sussex in the UK. We ate and then chatted up some natives who turned out to be fantastic people. One was a huge fan of ´heep-hop moosick´ and I spent the better part of the evening trying to explain to her that there is more to listen to than just The Ying Yang Twins (they´re very big down here for some unfortunate reason).
As I said before, everything down here is incredibly inexpensive. My dinner with Victor topped out at the equivalent of $13...a steal! I was buying shots of Jager for anyone who would take one, at $3 a pop it´s cheaper than drinking up at Hamilton. (I know now why Jager shots are so cheap. If the theory of supply and demand comes into play then these things could be given away for free because nobody came close to taking the extra shot I bought.) One thing I´ve noticed about myself when I travel to far away lands (except for that random trip to Narnia), looks like fake, I call it ´Monopoly Money Syndrome´. There is no intrinsic value of the peso beyond me spending it here, and because I have to divide by 3.1 just to get a ballpark figure for what I´m spending in dollars, I forgo the headache and just say ´Screw it...I´ll pay.´ That doesn´t mean I´m buying up all the trinkets on the street simply to spend the money, but when given the opportunity to spend wisely I tend to just throw inhibition to the wind.
Got home at 12am, which is like going home at around 7:30 in NYC (yeah, they party late), got some sleep in the insanely hot hostel room, got up at 8am and got today started.
The first stop was the roof of my hostel which is laid out kind of strangely as they have both the 1st and 6th floors of the building. I´m on the 1st which is a plus because its always dark in my room but a minus in every other sense. The roof is glorious and I got up there with my guidebook and morning cup of coffee to see the sun rise above the cupola on the Plaza de Mayo. Really cool stuff.
I began today by heading out to Jardin de Botanica in Palermo, the northern and nicest part of town. This required my first Subte (Subway) experience. Now, it´s not that the train system here isn´t intelligently thought out or designed. It works well, is relatively clean and the interval between trains is consistent. But if you´re constructing a subway system (hello...below ground!) in a city that averages 74 degrees a year, wouldn´t you spring for some sort of circulation in the cars? I don´t need A/C but how about a fan? Anything besides keeping the 3-inch cracks in the windows open. My sweat glads were abierto but I digress.
The Botanical Gardens are quite lovely. Landscaped terrain, manicured trees and the like but nothing worth noting here. Victor had told me that I had to visit the Jardin de Japonese, perpendicular to the Botanical Gardens, which was my next stop. The garden was originally part of the Botanical Gardens but was cornered off when Prince Something-moto came to Buenos Aires in 1998. It is absolutely breathtaking. There are cherry blossoms that form a line around the pond and different varietals of bonzai trees all over the gardens. The pond is teaming with koi, so much so that the fish seemed to be running out of room, eagerly poking their mouths out of the water to munch on some of the flora that had fallen in the water from the surrounding trees. There´s the requisite zen bell, a shinto tower and everything else you´d need to give you a Feng Shui Orgasm. It´s brilliant. So brilliant that I´m going to petition New York City to bring this Japanese prince and his wife to New York so that the city can build one of these gardens too. Which brings me to my next point.
Central Park is the bastion for all things urban landscaping. It´s beautifully maintained, orderly, clean, visually impactful and most of all, on an island of 6 million people, it´s the one place you can go for some quiet. Despite the many beautiful aspects of the Botanical Gardens and especially the Japanese Garden, the visual beauty of the gardens is completely ruined by the fact that the second busiest street in Buenos Aires runs right between the two parks! It´s mind-blowingly loud:
Tour Guide: "If you listen closely you may be able to hear the mating call of the rare and beautiful Okinawa Nut Hatch."
Me: "Sorry, does the Okinawa Nut Hatch sound like cement mixer doing 50 MPH on a dirt road? No, because that´s all I hear."
After the gardens I took the me and my royal companion (also me) to the quaint and immaculately maintained Museo de Evita. She´s got some pretty serious clout down here given the fact that she beat out Diego Maradona and Che Guevara for History´s Greatest Argentine and the museum does a fantastic job of giving the visitor a glimpse into her life. It´s two stories of chronologically based information going from her youth to her turn as a movie star to her marriage to Juan Peron and ultimately to her role as First Lady of Argentina. You can check the Wikipedia article on her but she´s kind of a big deal around here.
Of to Palermo SoHo. The. Coolest. Neighborhood. Ever. Palermo SoHo is basically the BSAS (Buenos Aires) version of SoHo (hence the name). It´s got some of the trendiest boutiques and restaurants in the city but does so without the snootiness of some of the other global hot spots (see: SoHo, Williamsburg, South Beach, West LA, etc.) The Argentines are serious about their fashion and Palermo SoHo is the epicenter of this movement. It´s block after block of kick-ass designe shops and labels that I´ve never even heard of. You´d expect the store staff to carry an air of stuffiness but I only encountered charming and helpful people in the half-dozen or so places I checked out. I was seriously blown away by this place and spent the entire afternoon just meandering around the quiet streets (ironically much quieter than the gardens I saw in the morning).
A Few Observations:
1) Like most Latin countries I´ve been to, there are statues everywhere here. But these statues are larger and far more imposing than the ones in Santiago and Caracas. I´m not sure what it is but there´s something very Fascist about all this statue building and I´d like it to stop.
2) The streets are choked to a stop by buses. And on these buses are people. Now the funny thing about these people is that it seems that their jobs in life are riding the bus. In New York there are rush hours: periods of time in the morning and evening when people are heading to and from work. Here, everyone seems to just be riding the bus all the time and that´s probably why there are so many of the damn things. I will put money on the fact that I saw the same woman 3 times on a bus. What the hell is that about?
3) For a country that has won an Olympic gold medal and world championship in basketball and two FIFA World Cups, I´m at a loss when I report that I have yet to see not only a soccer field or a basketball court but a soccer ball or basketball that wasn´t in a store window. Either the athletes come from the countryside or the government has banned fun. I could go either way on this one.
So, that was pretty long I guess. My fingers hurt and I need a nap. Don´t be afraid to leave some comments and I´ll try and keep you all as up to date as possible.
Mucho Gusto,
Noug
Met up with Victor Sanabria - Greg´s friend from HM - last night at a bar called Gibraltar. It´s in a secluded part of town (which means there was a greater chance of me getting robbed) so I decided to take a remise. The taxis here are decidely cheap, the total came to $6.50 pesos, which may seem a lot to all the Yanks in the room but actually comes down to about 2 bucks. The bar itself had a great vibe, an interesting mix of Argentines, British and American ex-pats and students. It´s actually owned by a guy from Sussex in the UK. We ate and then chatted up some natives who turned out to be fantastic people. One was a huge fan of ´heep-hop moosick´ and I spent the better part of the evening trying to explain to her that there is more to listen to than just The Ying Yang Twins (they´re very big down here for some unfortunate reason).
As I said before, everything down here is incredibly inexpensive. My dinner with Victor topped out at the equivalent of $13...a steal! I was buying shots of Jager for anyone who would take one, at $3 a pop it´s cheaper than drinking up at Hamilton. (I know now why Jager shots are so cheap. If the theory of supply and demand comes into play then these things could be given away for free because nobody came close to taking the extra shot I bought.) One thing I´ve noticed about myself when I travel to far away lands (except for that random trip to Narnia), looks like fake, I call it ´Monopoly Money Syndrome´. There is no intrinsic value of the peso beyond me spending it here, and because I have to divide by 3.1 just to get a ballpark figure for what I´m spending in dollars, I forgo the headache and just say ´Screw it...I´ll pay.´ That doesn´t mean I´m buying up all the trinkets on the street simply to spend the money, but when given the opportunity to spend wisely I tend to just throw inhibition to the wind.
Got home at 12am, which is like going home at around 7:30 in NYC (yeah, they party late), got some sleep in the insanely hot hostel room, got up at 8am and got today started.
The first stop was the roof of my hostel which is laid out kind of strangely as they have both the 1st and 6th floors of the building. I´m on the 1st which is a plus because its always dark in my room but a minus in every other sense. The roof is glorious and I got up there with my guidebook and morning cup of coffee to see the sun rise above the cupola on the Plaza de Mayo. Really cool stuff.
I began today by heading out to Jardin de Botanica in Palermo, the northern and nicest part of town. This required my first Subte (Subway) experience. Now, it´s not that the train system here isn´t intelligently thought out or designed. It works well, is relatively clean and the interval between trains is consistent. But if you´re constructing a subway system (hello...below ground!) in a city that averages 74 degrees a year, wouldn´t you spring for some sort of circulation in the cars? I don´t need A/C but how about a fan? Anything besides keeping the 3-inch cracks in the windows open. My sweat glads were abierto but I digress.
The Botanical Gardens are quite lovely. Landscaped terrain, manicured trees and the like but nothing worth noting here. Victor had told me that I had to visit the Jardin de Japonese, perpendicular to the Botanical Gardens, which was my next stop. The garden was originally part of the Botanical Gardens but was cornered off when Prince Something-moto came to Buenos Aires in 1998. It is absolutely breathtaking. There are cherry blossoms that form a line around the pond and different varietals of bonzai trees all over the gardens. The pond is teaming with koi, so much so that the fish seemed to be running out of room, eagerly poking their mouths out of the water to munch on some of the flora that had fallen in the water from the surrounding trees. There´s the requisite zen bell, a shinto tower and everything else you´d need to give you a Feng Shui Orgasm. It´s brilliant. So brilliant that I´m going to petition New York City to bring this Japanese prince and his wife to New York so that the city can build one of these gardens too. Which brings me to my next point.
Central Park is the bastion for all things urban landscaping. It´s beautifully maintained, orderly, clean, visually impactful and most of all, on an island of 6 million people, it´s the one place you can go for some quiet. Despite the many beautiful aspects of the Botanical Gardens and especially the Japanese Garden, the visual beauty of the gardens is completely ruined by the fact that the second busiest street in Buenos Aires runs right between the two parks! It´s mind-blowingly loud:
Tour Guide: "If you listen closely you may be able to hear the mating call of the rare and beautiful Okinawa Nut Hatch."
Me: "Sorry, does the Okinawa Nut Hatch sound like cement mixer doing 50 MPH on a dirt road? No, because that´s all I hear."
After the gardens I took the me and my royal companion (also me) to the quaint and immaculately maintained Museo de Evita. She´s got some pretty serious clout down here given the fact that she beat out Diego Maradona and Che Guevara for History´s Greatest Argentine and the museum does a fantastic job of giving the visitor a glimpse into her life. It´s two stories of chronologically based information going from her youth to her turn as a movie star to her marriage to Juan Peron and ultimately to her role as First Lady of Argentina. You can check the Wikipedia article on her but she´s kind of a big deal around here.
Of to Palermo SoHo. The. Coolest. Neighborhood. Ever. Palermo SoHo is basically the BSAS (Buenos Aires) version of SoHo (hence the name). It´s got some of the trendiest boutiques and restaurants in the city but does so without the snootiness of some of the other global hot spots (see: SoHo, Williamsburg, South Beach, West LA, etc.) The Argentines are serious about their fashion and Palermo SoHo is the epicenter of this movement. It´s block after block of kick-ass designe shops and labels that I´ve never even heard of. You´d expect the store staff to carry an air of stuffiness but I only encountered charming and helpful people in the half-dozen or so places I checked out. I was seriously blown away by this place and spent the entire afternoon just meandering around the quiet streets (ironically much quieter than the gardens I saw in the morning).
A Few Observations:
1) Like most Latin countries I´ve been to, there are statues everywhere here. But these statues are larger and far more imposing than the ones in Santiago and Caracas. I´m not sure what it is but there´s something very Fascist about all this statue building and I´d like it to stop.
2) The streets are choked to a stop by buses. And on these buses are people. Now the funny thing about these people is that it seems that their jobs in life are riding the bus. In New York there are rush hours: periods of time in the morning and evening when people are heading to and from work. Here, everyone seems to just be riding the bus all the time and that´s probably why there are so many of the damn things. I will put money on the fact that I saw the same woman 3 times on a bus. What the hell is that about?
3) For a country that has won an Olympic gold medal and world championship in basketball and two FIFA World Cups, I´m at a loss when I report that I have yet to see not only a soccer field or a basketball court but a soccer ball or basketball that wasn´t in a store window. Either the athletes come from the countryside or the government has banned fun. I could go either way on this one.
So, that was pretty long I guess. My fingers hurt and I need a nap. Don´t be afraid to leave some comments and I´ll try and keep you all as up to date as possible.
Mucho Gusto,
Noug
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
And So It Begins...
Ah yes, the sweet smell of...what the hell is that? Jesus...this whole country smells like a giant tailpipe. Seriously! Where to begin. Let´s start on the plane ride down here.
The trip down from JFK to Miami, except for being an hour late, was completely painless. Plane was about 20% full so I got a whole row to myself and had a little siesta while subconsciously nodding to my iPod. We landed, got out and I got to strech my legs a little bit at Miami International. Upon rentry, I realized that the 9 huor flight down to Buenos Aires would be a little more cramped, yet the same row of seats that I had to myself from New York was still open after some ADD/cracked-out/absurdly dressed/obviously new father kept freaking and running over to his newborn son ultimately leaving the whole row open. I jumped at the opportunity for an entire row to myself, staked my ground with strategic book/magazine/water bottle placing only to come back from the bathroom to see some older woman keeled over to the right, taking up 2.5 seats and offering me gum as reconciliation (Note: Aregentian Extra Bubble Gum tastes like Bolivian Extra Maalox, I´ll pass next time thank you). Wasn´t that bad though. Managed to get some sleep and seeing as I´ve been up since 7AM here (one hour ahead of NYC), I feel pretty damn good. Let´s get to the good stuff shall we?
One thing that strikes you immediately leaving the airport is the smog, it sucks, it´s ugly and given these peoples affinity for smokíng cigarettes I´m surprised babies aren´t born with stage 3 lung cancer. The Chinese people go running around Shanghai with Dr. Mengele masks yet these people must believe that Buenos Aires stays true to its name, consider me part of the dissenting minority in that department; there is nothing Buenos about this Aires.
I get my bags and make my way towards the ´remise´ taxi section. Apparently there is something called the ´taxi mafia´ here and my driver was telling me that if you don´t use a remise (basically a stripped down limo service) you could end up floating face down in the River Plate as immgrant El Salvadorians use your bladder as a life raft. Not sure if this was a sales pitch or a true story but I have his company´s number in my cell phone and they will be responsible for all my transportation needs.
The hostel is quite nice. I´m roomed with two German guys (Jurgen and Tomas), a Dutch chick (Else) and some British girl who seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I introduced myself yet only later did I find out it was because she didn´t have any money to pay for the hostel. I´m guessing I won´t be seeing her again. Showering and all things pertaining to using the bathroom is a chore. There are 3 bathrooms for roughly 20 guests so getting access to the damn thing requires cunning and guile but after a few minutes of darting around I managed to hop into a shower. It´s actually quite nice, the window overlooks a little courtyard and if I were so inclicned I could pee on the people taking their morning coffee below and blame it on a leaky valve. Moving along, I got dressed and after a brief chat with the very helpful hostel guy, headed out. Aside from doing a lot (A LOT!) of walking, here are some observations:
1)I´m lucky that I am not writing this entry from the hood of a rogue delivery truck. Yes, the stop signs here read ´PARE´ and they are ubiquitous but they may as well read ´DARE´ as the drivers hold the signs in as high a regard as they do the pedestrians crossing the street. In this country, anything that feeds on fossil fuels has the right of way.
2) I was out for about 5 hours and in that time saw 2 massive political demonstrations completely halt traffic. The first one was a bunch of elderly people campaigning for a guy with a moustache. I´m not sure what the ruckus was for but they were pissed and moving, really, really slowly. Some people in the rabble had walkers, others had canes but damned if El Moustache didn´t get elected to office, freed from prison or whatever the purpose of this mass of humanity was for.
The next demonstration was a little more organized and consisted of people in green vests, beating drums, lighting firecrackers and yes, holding up more traffic. I got the sense that there was some labor party element here some guy even offered me one of the green smoks but I declined fearing it could have been rally on behalf of Quadaffi and his Libiyan people. The funny thing about both events was that the Police were actually clearing traffic for the protesters as they made their way down some pretty major thoroughfares. If you´re demonstrating in the US you got shot with rubber bullets and tear gas if you leave the 6x6 prefabricated metal-fenced pen to go to the bathroom. Here, people seem to take demonstrating very seriously.
3) The flight down featured a fair number of attractive women giving me high hopes. I regret to inform you that wherever these women live, it is no where near where I went today, but that doesn´t stop the men from fawning. I took lunch at a little cafe right next to the Plaza Hotel Buenos Aires, one of the best hotels in the world according to Mr. and Mrs. Frommer. A couple takes the table next to me: it´s a 30 something man, handsome but losing his hair; someone who had clearly peaked 5 years ago. Joining him was an older lady, leathery skin and bleached blonde hair but attractive. I figured it was a mother and a son (turns out I was right) but their conversation had a very elegant dance. Each time a remotely good looking woman would walk by, both parties would immediately cease conversation, allowing the son to oogle at the girls walking by. I´m not sure how to put it into words but watching the conversation stop 3 times in 10 seconds almost made the Heineken I was drinking come out my nose.
4) I went to the Recoleta which is where all the rich people from Buenos Aires are laid to ret. It´s unique a all the caskets are put in giant, granite masoleums that you can look into and see the coffins. To quote that eTrade commercial with the clown: I kind of underestimated the creepiness. Also, it´s still a working cemetary and there was a funeral procession right as I got there. I became close with the tour guide who told me I could watch them put the casket in the little mauoleum but given my attire (sweaty t-shirt, khaki shorts and running shoes), I didn´t think it would have been appropriate.
5) I love, LOVE exploring new cities by foot.
6) The city itself is quite charming. The nice parts are very reminsicent of Paris: from the architecture to the quiet streets to the snooty locals, the more bourgoise parts seem a little rundown: think Mexico City but not as clean and dog shit everywhere.
7) Finally, I'll bet anyone that if I were to spend 1 month in this city (or any Spanish speaking locale) I would be pretty damn near fluent. I´m already getting in the groove.
Prolific first post, not sure if I can keep up this kind of pace but if it´s worth putting on paper I´ll try to get it in the blog. I´m heading back to the hostel where I have a meeting with my top bunk for a nap. After that I´m supposed to meet Victor Sanabria for dinner at 8:30. That´s all for now.
Un Amor!
Z
The trip down from JFK to Miami, except for being an hour late, was completely painless. Plane was about 20% full so I got a whole row to myself and had a little siesta while subconsciously nodding to my iPod. We landed, got out and I got to strech my legs a little bit at Miami International. Upon rentry, I realized that the 9 huor flight down to Buenos Aires would be a little more cramped, yet the same row of seats that I had to myself from New York was still open after some ADD/cracked-out/absurdly dressed/obviously new father kept freaking and running over to his newborn son ultimately leaving the whole row open. I jumped at the opportunity for an entire row to myself, staked my ground with strategic book/magazine/water bottle placing only to come back from the bathroom to see some older woman keeled over to the right, taking up 2.5 seats and offering me gum as reconciliation (Note: Aregentian Extra Bubble Gum tastes like Bolivian Extra Maalox, I´ll pass next time thank you). Wasn´t that bad though. Managed to get some sleep and seeing as I´ve been up since 7AM here (one hour ahead of NYC), I feel pretty damn good. Let´s get to the good stuff shall we?
One thing that strikes you immediately leaving the airport is the smog, it sucks, it´s ugly and given these peoples affinity for smokíng cigarettes I´m surprised babies aren´t born with stage 3 lung cancer. The Chinese people go running around Shanghai with Dr. Mengele masks yet these people must believe that Buenos Aires stays true to its name, consider me part of the dissenting minority in that department; there is nothing Buenos about this Aires.
I get my bags and make my way towards the ´remise´ taxi section. Apparently there is something called the ´taxi mafia´ here and my driver was telling me that if you don´t use a remise (basically a stripped down limo service) you could end up floating face down in the River Plate as immgrant El Salvadorians use your bladder as a life raft. Not sure if this was a sales pitch or a true story but I have his company´s number in my cell phone and they will be responsible for all my transportation needs.
The hostel is quite nice. I´m roomed with two German guys (Jurgen and Tomas), a Dutch chick (Else) and some British girl who seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I introduced myself yet only later did I find out it was because she didn´t have any money to pay for the hostel. I´m guessing I won´t be seeing her again. Showering and all things pertaining to using the bathroom is a chore. There are 3 bathrooms for roughly 20 guests so getting access to the damn thing requires cunning and guile but after a few minutes of darting around I managed to hop into a shower. It´s actually quite nice, the window overlooks a little courtyard and if I were so inclicned I could pee on the people taking their morning coffee below and blame it on a leaky valve. Moving along, I got dressed and after a brief chat with the very helpful hostel guy, headed out. Aside from doing a lot (A LOT!) of walking, here are some observations:
1)I´m lucky that I am not writing this entry from the hood of a rogue delivery truck. Yes, the stop signs here read ´PARE´ and they are ubiquitous but they may as well read ´DARE´ as the drivers hold the signs in as high a regard as they do the pedestrians crossing the street. In this country, anything that feeds on fossil fuels has the right of way.
2) I was out for about 5 hours and in that time saw 2 massive political demonstrations completely halt traffic. The first one was a bunch of elderly people campaigning for a guy with a moustache. I´m not sure what the ruckus was for but they were pissed and moving, really, really slowly. Some people in the rabble had walkers, others had canes but damned if El Moustache didn´t get elected to office, freed from prison or whatever the purpose of this mass of humanity was for.
The next demonstration was a little more organized and consisted of people in green vests, beating drums, lighting firecrackers and yes, holding up more traffic. I got the sense that there was some labor party element here some guy even offered me one of the green smoks but I declined fearing it could have been rally on behalf of Quadaffi and his Libiyan people. The funny thing about both events was that the Police were actually clearing traffic for the protesters as they made their way down some pretty major thoroughfares. If you´re demonstrating in the US you got shot with rubber bullets and tear gas if you leave the 6x6 prefabricated metal-fenced pen to go to the bathroom. Here, people seem to take demonstrating very seriously.
3) The flight down featured a fair number of attractive women giving me high hopes. I regret to inform you that wherever these women live, it is no where near where I went today, but that doesn´t stop the men from fawning. I took lunch at a little cafe right next to the Plaza Hotel Buenos Aires, one of the best hotels in the world according to Mr. and Mrs. Frommer. A couple takes the table next to me: it´s a 30 something man, handsome but losing his hair; someone who had clearly peaked 5 years ago. Joining him was an older lady, leathery skin and bleached blonde hair but attractive. I figured it was a mother and a son (turns out I was right) but their conversation had a very elegant dance. Each time a remotely good looking woman would walk by, both parties would immediately cease conversation, allowing the son to oogle at the girls walking by. I´m not sure how to put it into words but watching the conversation stop 3 times in 10 seconds almost made the Heineken I was drinking come out my nose.
4) I went to the Recoleta which is where all the rich people from Buenos Aires are laid to ret. It´s unique a all the caskets are put in giant, granite masoleums that you can look into and see the coffins. To quote that eTrade commercial with the clown: I kind of underestimated the creepiness. Also, it´s still a working cemetary and there was a funeral procession right as I got there. I became close with the tour guide who told me I could watch them put the casket in the little mauoleum but given my attire (sweaty t-shirt, khaki shorts and running shoes), I didn´t think it would have been appropriate.
5) I love, LOVE exploring new cities by foot.
6) The city itself is quite charming. The nice parts are very reminsicent of Paris: from the architecture to the quiet streets to the snooty locals, the more bourgoise parts seem a little rundown: think Mexico City but not as clean and dog shit everywhere.
7) Finally, I'll bet anyone that if I were to spend 1 month in this city (or any Spanish speaking locale) I would be pretty damn near fluent. I´m already getting in the groove.
Prolific first post, not sure if I can keep up this kind of pace but if it´s worth putting on paper I´ll try to get it in the blog. I´m heading back to the hostel where I have a meeting with my top bunk for a nap. After that I´m supposed to meet Victor Sanabria for dinner at 8:30. That´s all for now.
Un Amor!
Z
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Trip Deets
My flights have been setup, I'm heading to Buenos Aires on flight Aerolineas Argentinas AR1311 leaving from JFK at 4pm on Tuesday, April 8th, landing in Pistarini Airport the following morning at 6:05am...sheesh
My return flight info is as follows:
AR1300, lands in JFK at 7:15am on Sunday April 19th
If anyone wants to either take me or drop me off let me know, otherwise I'll take a taxi.
Also, I sent an email to Victor Sanabria who is studying in BA and we're going to meet up and hang aus which should be fun. Great kid, looking forward to it. Check here for all the details as the trip progresses.
Slupa Excerent!
My return flight info is as follows:
AR1300, lands in JFK at 7:15am on Sunday April 19th
If anyone wants to either take me or drop me off let me know, otherwise I'll take a taxi.
Also, I sent an email to Victor Sanabria who is studying in BA and we're going to meet up and hang aus which should be fun. Great kid, looking forward to it. Check here for all the details as the trip progresses.
Slupa Excerent!
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