Tigre

Just a short US$0.60 train ride away from Buenos Aires is the town of Tigre. Located just north of the Rio de la Plata, Tigre is a pleasant little town that is the entry-point to the greater Parana Delta. The town itself sits on an island and is surrounded by canals, creeks, and little rivers. It even has a public bus system much like Venice: a fleet of old wooden commuter boats that ferry townsfolk from island to island.






Me on a bus. Some of the fancier tour buses are in the background.

On the recommendation of a woman in the tourist office, Holly and I decided to take one of the buses to an island called "3 Bocas". Once we got there, there really wasn't that much to do besides walk around the small island on a sidewalk that was located right along the waterline.

There are also tons of people who row here. There are many rowing clubs (sort of like Boathouse Row in Philadelphia, but the sculls are much wider), so that lends a sort of prep-school, country-club atmosphere to the downtown waterfront.

We walked about halfway around 3 Bocas, until the water rose too high and we could not walk any more. We had noticed on the way out to the islands that the water seemed really high. It was lapping at the doorsteps of most houses, and several docks were close to being submerged. It wasn't until we got off the bus, however, that we realized just how high the water was. Holly stopped a man who was kayaking by us and asked what was going on. He told us that the rain the two days before had caused the water in the whole delta to be much higher than usual. We got trapped at a cafe on the island with a bunch of other people and had to be rescued by another bus on its way back to town. The above picture shows the gas station that was across from the cafe.

This is me eating a "wafflin" from Waffles del Mundo, back in Tigre. A "wafflin" is essentially a banana with a stick in it, dipped in pancake batter, cooked in a waffle iron, then dipped in chocolate. It was pretty good.

Holly on the Tigre waterfront promenade. She is leaning on a statue in memory of the great oarsman, Javier Henry. It is rumored that when the motorboat was first popularized in Argentina, Javier Henry challenged a slick motorboat operator to a race, stating that he was "a boat-rowin' man and ain't no machine ever gonna out-row me." Javier Henry got off to an early lead, but he couldn't keep up pace with the new invention. His heart gave out during the competition and he died with an oar in his hand.

Barnes & Shmoble

This is a bookstore on the long shopping street, Av. Sante Fe.

After this place, I don't think I will be able to shop for books the same way.

How can I shop at that hovel, Barnes & Noble after this?

The bookstore is located in an old theater that has been renovated. There is even a mural painted on the ceiling.

A latte in the standard bookstore is so pedestrian. I prefer a cafe con leche on a large stage with the serving counter in one wing and a man playing a grand piano, live, in the other wing.

Forget crouching on a step stool and flipping through books. Why not leisurely read in a box seat?

This is the way to shop.

Love is in the Air

I knew that James would have something romantic planned for Valentine's Day. Just a few days earlier, he didn't bring out enough money for my birthday. So, I got to pay for all the drinks when we went out after dinner. I could feel it, Valentine's Day would special.

And what could be more romantic than:

The race track!
This is us choosing which horses we were going to bet on to win.

The track is called the Hipodromo Argentino de Palermo. The facilities are well done, with a variety of places to eat, drink, and watch the races: inside, outside or on covered benches. There are also some swank areas if that's your cup of tea, or in this case mate'.


We placed some small bets and kept it simple by just playing to win, instead of trying to explain any other bets in Spanish. Seriously, it was a fun time and a good low key activity after we had stayed out until 8:30 AM with Horatio Sanz the night before.

Come on Market Buster! Move your bloomin arse!

I Love the Night Life

We went to a great bar in Recoleta, Milion. It is in an old mansion. Outside there is a large garden with a grand marble staircase where people sit on the steps and talk and drink. There are also lots of small rooms where it is easy to hang out with a group and talk. The prices were surprisingly reasonable and I had a basil daiquiri that was actually tasty and refreshing.

At the next bar, Living, we had a few celebrity sightings. McCauly Culkin for one and we were also able to hang out with Horatio Sanz. I got a picture of him.

Before this picture, I would just like to add the disclaimer that these are not my lips. A friend unwittingly fell for the oldest trick in the book. The old quick turn after he requests a kiss on the cheek.

Full Speed Ahead

Today I saw just about the last thing I expected to see in one of the plazas of Buenos Aires. Holly and I were sitting on a bench under some shade trees, finishing up some Spanish homework. We heard some American voices shouting to one another and, when we looked up, we saw two morbidly obese Americans in Panama hats whizzing through the plaza on their Rascal(TM)-brand motorized scooters. It was a sight to behold. That got us to thinking many thoughts. How did they get here? Did they fly on an airplane? Did they have to get two seats (four total)? Where were they charging their Rascals (because the plugs and electrical currents are different here)? Why were they so intent on hauling ass through the plaza?

I watched them for a while. After first whizzing through the plaza, the couple took refuge in some shade and waited for their able-bodied guide to catch up. Then the guide told them about the Plaza San Martin and the statue, and they began whirring around the plaza again. This observation gave me pause to ponder even further what life would be like in a motorized scooter. When I am sightseeing, I like to take my time. I don't run full tilt from statue to statue. I don't think I would drive my Rascal full tilt from statue to statue either. I also think that motorized scooters have been de-stigmatized somewhat in the United States. I wouldn't have looked twice if they were in the U.S., but no one here rides around in a power scooter. I suppose this is a good thing, because one of the first things Holly said to me was, "I guess you really can go anywhere in one of those. They should be on a brochure for the Scooter Store."

Mar del Plata

The beach was divided into semicircular sections by the rocks pictured above. The sand is the type of sand that has shells and is not as fine as the sand at Gulf of Mexico beaches. The water was pretty rough that weekend and freezing cold but locals had no problem frolicking in it. On Saturday, the beach gets crowded but not until the afternoon. All in all, it was a great city and we seemed to be more of a novelty there than in Buenos Aires. For this reason and the fact that it's a smaller city, people were more warm and friendly. I would recommend it but be sure to bring your brazilian cut bikini bottoms because I was definitely in the minority without one (and keep your top on). Boys can leave the speedos at home, I only saw one the whole time.

James contemplating the city of Mar del Plata.



We went to a seafood restaurant out by the port and I think we accidentally ordered a dessert wine because it was sickeningly sweet.






Sunday was a rainy day so we went to the arcade. I kicked some five year olds off this Humpty Dumpty game. James was embarrassed to play at first and by the end he said it was his favorite











James racking up the tickets on Super Shot.









We finally had enough tickets for me to get a pack of Chewy Runts and it only cost $29 pesos to get there.

The Circus is in Town

Last weekend we took our first weekend trip to Mar del Plata. It is a beach town about 5 or 6 hours away from Buenos Aires. We took a bus to the train station and followed the crowds to our train. When we boarded the train, I was pretty certain that the previous passengers had been circus animals. After passing the bathroom, on the way to the seats, I made the decision to hold it all night.

It was a little after 11PM and the train did not have any lights on. The seat numbers were above the seats but it was impossible to see them. People had out cell phones and mini-flashlights to find their seats and they would call out numbers down the train car. The seats were bench style like the kind you would find on a school bus. Not only did they look like school bus seats but felt like them too, thanks to the springs. It brought back memories.

For some reason, I was enjoying the whole thing and I felt like I was on some adventure. It seemed like a scenario set up by a travel show.

The train began to move out of the station and people started clapping, so I joined in. After about ten minutes the lights came on (well some of them), then people really cheered. We just laughed. Once we were moving the seats started bouncing up and down thanks to the springs. In addition to the up and down motion, there was plenty of rocking side to side as well that made us bump into each other.

Through the night we attempted to find various ways to get comfortable and get a little sleep. The train was scheduled to arrive around 5AM. I kept waiting for other people to turn out their lights and go to sleep but most never did. I have no idea when these people are getting their sleep. They stayed up all night talking. The men in front of us were whispering into each other's ears like little schoolgirls and cracking themselves up. One woman was talking on her cell phone at around 4AM. I was so perplexed. It was just idle chit-chat. Who did she have to call at that time of day? Why was the person on the other end of the line awake at that hour? Why didn't any of the other passengers think this was unusual? Why was my butt the only one asleep on this train? Needless to say, we were not well-rested at the end of the journey.

To be fair, the return train was much more comfortable. (The ride to the beach is just a more entertaining story.) It was called the SuperPullman. It played movies the whole ride, had a sitting area at the front of the car, and comfortable reclining chairs.

Miss Manners

The other day I had an interview for an English teaching job with a language school in Buenos Aires. The school is located in the Microcentro, which is the downtown area. I dressed appropriately (black pencil skirt, cream shirt and a lightweight black sweater and black peep toes, for those wondering), and arrived early in case there were any problems finding the place.


Once I found the building, I wasn't sure about the protocol with the door man. Did you have to sign in, as is often the case in big U.S. cities? Did you have to tell him who you are going to see? I explained to him (in Spanish) that I had an interview with xyz co. in the building and flashed him a big smile. He asked me if I knew the floor, and I told him the number. He looked at me like I was a little off but smiled and told me to take one of the elevators (that were right in front of my face).


Once upstairs, I stepped off the elevators and found a hallway with identical doors in either direction. It was like a scene from an old movie, all the doors looked as if I would find a mustachioed P.I. smoking a cigar on the other side of it. The doors were just numbered and I did not see any labels. Once I finally figured out the door, I had to wait outside because no one was there.


A few minutes later, a woman started walking down the hall toward me and said Buenos Dias. I did not know if this was someone from the language school or just a person in another office being polite. I responded and then awkwardly waited for her to make the next move. She continued to walk straight for me so I introduced myself and began to reach out my hand. She smiled and introduced herself and went in to kiss my cheek. I quickly retracted my hand and kissed her hello.


Unfortunately, the interview was not with her and I had to go through this process again once inside the office. Once again, I instinctively stuck out my hand but pulled it back. It was too late though and she had already seen me do it. For the next few seconds, the two of us stopped and started to lean toward one another a couple times. It was like an awkward date when you don't know how to say "goodnight". Finally, we did a quick cheek kiss and sat down.



The problem is that you never know. Are they going to maintain their customs? Or, are they going to use your customs because they think you will be more comfortable? I'm still not sure what to do for my next meeting.

Parque 3 de Febrero

During our first weekend in Buenos Aires, we went to the Parque 3 de Febrero, a huge park in the Palermo section of this city. We live on a pretty busy avenue, and two buses stop right in front of our apartment. We can take either the 10 or the 59 and be down at the park in about 15 minutes. The park really is an urban oasis. It has lakes, jogging trails, and a lovely rose garden. It really felt like summer. There were tons of people out with their families and dogs enjoying the sun. As you can see in the picture below, you can rent rowboats or paddle boats to take out on the lake.

One of our favorite pastimes here is to point out the Argentine version of various US celebrities. In one of the rowboats (pictured above) we spotted the Argentine Harold Ramis, star of the 1981 hit comedy "Stripes" and the actor behind Dr. Egon Spengler of 1984's "Ghostbusters". He was out with his kids in one of the rowboats and making very loud quacking noises like he was some kind of huge goose.

Our visit to the park was also the first time we realized just how prevalent mate is here. Mate is a drink that is everywhere in Argentina. Every couple or family at the park had some. What you do is carry around a thermos with hot water, a bag of mate leaves, and a little cup with a built-in straw and filter. When you want some mate, you pack some leaves in the top, pour some hot water out of your thermos into the cup, and sip away happily through the little straw. This realization also answered a lingering question that I had ever since our first day here. A lot of restaurants and little food stands had signs that they had "agua caliente". I thought to myself, "Who in their right mind would be drinking hot water on a day like this?" All of a sudden, it hit me that the answer was all around me.

Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes

The security is really tight at the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes.














Luckily, I was still able to snag a photo of this painting just in the nick of time. Anyone up for a little chicken breast tonight?

Dance Party

The last time we heard this song, James and I had a dance party in the living room. This plays all the time on one of the video channels in Argentina.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNujBBrHcRU

Recoleta Cemetery

February 03, 2009
Going to the Recoleta Cemetery today made me realize how little I know about the history or the people of Argentina. While Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris is the final resting place for many world renowned cultural figures such as Marcel Proust, Edith Piaf, and Moliere, I had only ever heard of one person buried here: Eva Perón. I guess it was only a matter of time before we made a post that involved Evita, but I was more than a little ashamed of my ignorance. Buried in Recoleta Cemetary are several former presidents of Argentina, a couple Nobel prize winners, military heroes, and many other noteworthy figures from Argentina’s history.


Using the word “buried” to describe the bodies in the cemetery is a bit misleading. Most of the plots in the cemetery are family crypts with lots of coffins in them. Many of the caskets were in plain view behind glass or thin curtains.







Every mausoleum was different. Some were enormous shiny granite monuments honoring a particularly noteworthy member of the family. Others were covered in dust and trash, and many had broken windows. The larger ones had stairs that lead to the bodies kept underground. All in all, it was an interesting experience and ignited my desire to learn more about the history of Argentina.



This is the grave of Luis Angel Firpo, the great Argentine boxer. I knew nothing about him before I went to the cemetery, but apparently "The Wild Bull of the Pampas" could take a punch. His most famous fight came against American Jack Dempsey on September 14, 1923 at the Polo Grounds in New York City. After being dropped seven times by Dempsey in the first round, Firpo recovered and knocked Dempsey through the ropes, out of the ring, and onto a table full of typewriters. Apparantly the three-knockdown TKO and standing eight count were unheard of at that time, because Dempsey was allowed to come back into the ring, and he subsequently knocked Firpo out in the second round. After his retirement from the ring, Firpo became a used car salesman.




A view near the entrance to the cemetery.

This is the Duarte Family crypt. Eva Peron is buried here.

Palermo Soho - He Said, She Said

She said: A stroll through the streets of Palermo Soho provides a glimpse into the future of this city, poised for a comeback to the world stage. Okay, maybe that's a little over the top but this is a great barrio that has a distinctive feel. The area contains small older establishments and apartments, and European style buildings, contrasted with trendy boutiques, chic restaurants and modern high-rise condos. It's a mix of locals and tourists. It is a fun area and even locals will say that it is the "hot" area in the city.

A house in Palermo Soho.

He Said: This is the lamest neighborhood we have seen so far. Its full of expensive boutiques and expensive restaurants. Every other person that passed us on the street spoke English. We actually went to a restaurant that had a US$9 beer on the menu. The architecture is actually pretty cool, but feel I feel like everything is Disney-fied. This is the type of place where a pampered New York Times travel editor would be right at home.

Maybe... He's Foreign

1/29/09

“Maybe … he’s foreign,” that’s what I say when someone is acting different or dressed unusually. I give foreign people a lot of leeway to basically get away with anything they want. This is not because of any generous or understanding attitude on my part. I say this because I would like the same courtesy if I am ever in their country.

Some of these “I’m foreign” moments are endearing and you can smile and shrug. Sometimes, you can use these moments to get out of trouble, play the ignorance card, and talk in English. Other times, these moments are frustrating for both parties or just embarrassing for yourself.

The bus in Buenos Aires provides ample opportunity for foreigner gaffes, due to a very confusing system. The price of the ride depends on where you are going. The first day, we didn’t know exact change was required. The bus took off, I fumbled around, tried to pay the driver in bills, looked frantically at James when the driver shook his head no and finally another passenger waiting to pay stepped in with change. All I could do was say muchas gracias and shuffle away.

Another mix up led to us closing out a restaurant. People eat a late dinner here, 9:00 PM or even 10:00 PM is normal. We decided to eat in a place that looked like it was full of locals. When we sat down, James looked at the clock above my head and asked me if 10:55 PM was the correct time. I looked at my watch and it said 8:55 PM. I asked the waitress what time it was, and she said that the wall clock was correct. The past two days we had thought everything we were doing was two hours earlier than it really was. (I had been so proud of us for getting up early that day and getting out the door, but in reality we were having breakfast at a coffee shop at 11:00 AM.)

The restaurant closed its doors at midnight. Most people in Buenos Aires linger for a long time after all meals, but we were the last ones in the restaurant, finishing our meals while the staff cleaned. Finally, the staff set a table and sat down for a meal. I explained the situation to the waitress and apologized. It’s daylight savings time here, so that explained being one hour off, but I’m not really sure how to explain away the other hour.

I took my Chevy to the levee...or wait, was it a Chevy?

1/30/09
Today I talked to our Super a little bit, but we still don’t know his name. Let me tell you a little about him. The first couple days we were here, we noticed that this one younger fellow was always hanging around in the lobby, watching people come in and out of the building. We live in a pretty swanky area of town, and most of the people in our building are well-heeled older folks. One day, when we were coming into the building, the younger fellow asked us if we lived in 2A. Then he introduced himself to us and I thought he said his name was Chevy. We said hello, and he welcomed us to the building. At that point in time, we just thought he was another dude who lived in the building. Today however, I had a longer chat with him. The chat mainly consisted of me using nouns and unconjugated Spanish verbs. I asked him where he worked, and he said he lived and worked in the building. We have since determined that he is the Super and lives in the first floor apartment off the lobby. I also addressed him as “Chevy” and he had no idea what I was saying. Now, I think his name is Guicheve or something like that.

Where Else But the Zoo?

1/29/2009

Not surprisingly one of our first outings was to the zoo.

The polar bear was not pleased with the weather.

This bear knew he was being watched.

Llamas

The camels could have used a little support for their humps.

You are allowed to feed most of the animals in the zoo.

In one corner of the zoo, we got to see the rare Argentine hipster. This is one of the few animals that you are not allowed to feed because they adhere to a strict vegan diet.

EZE Airport...Straight Outta Compton

1/28/09

After we arrived at EZE Airport, we went to a taxi booth and arranged for a taxi to take us to our apartment. When the guy came to take our bags, he could only grab Holly's luggage, so I had to lug my suitcase, my backpack, my laptop, and another backpack through the airport terminal while this guy was hauling towards the cab. When we finally got to the car, he threw the bags in the trunk, then subtly reminded me that, "I get a tip...10 pesos is good."

I'm on My Way

1/27/2009

The day before we were scheduled to leave (yesterday) James received a call about a job interview in Baltimore to be scheduled for two days after we left. After a nerve racking day of trying to contact the potential employer to reschedule and the airline to push the flight back, James was able to reschedule the interview for 9:00AM in Baltimore the morning of our departure day.
He had to wake up at 5:00 AM, drive two hours in the snow to Baltimore, go to the interview, then turn around and drive two hours back to Philadelphia. Luckily, there were no traffic problems because the timing was pretty tight and he made it back to Lansdale just in time.
I woke up at 8:45 in Lansdale and the power was out in the whole house. I couldn’t check on the internet for flight delays, so I was calling around for other people to help me. I did not shower yesterday because the power was out all day. ( if you are wondering - electric water heater). I was looking at the possibility of 72 hours total before I would get to shower again. The power was restored an hour before we left for the airport. I’m happy to say I boarded the plane fresh and clean.
Our flight left Philadelphia at 3:30 PM, connected in Houston, and went on to Buenos Aires, where we arrived around 10:00 AM. Everyone I talked to before I left was asking me if I was nervous. “What is going to happen once you are there? Do you have a place to stay? Do you know what you are going to do? Do you have a plan?” It all just made me wonder if I should be nervous. Maybe I’m missing something but I was thinking people do this kind of stuff all the time. I don’t think it has sunk in yet that I’m going. Maybe that’s why there is a lack of nerves. Or maybe because it just seems like any other day and James is sitting next to me, telling me how great his armpits smell because of his new deodorant. Too bad the deodorant can’t help the coffee breath …