Meet the Parents

My parents recently popped down for a visit, after taking a cruise around Southa America: from Valparaiso, Chile down the Pacific coast, around Cape Horn, and up the Atlantic coast to Buenos Aires. I met them at the port here in BA on Easter Sunday. After settling them into their hotel, Holly and I took them to breakfast at our favorite cafe, then we all went to Easter Mass at a nice church in Recoleta. It was the first time I had been to church here, and it was a nice mass. Argentina is more than three-quarters Roman Catholic, so the church was pretty crowded. I was a bit surprised that the people didn't get more dressed up.

My parents spent two days here, then two days visiting Iguazu Falls on the border of Argentina and Brazil. The remainder of their time here in Buenos Aires, we walked around a lot and Holly and I showed them our favorite parts of the city (which have already been covered in other blog posts).

Then we went to Mendoza. We took an overnight bus ride from Buenos Aires, checked into our hotel, had some lunch, and hired a driver to take us to some bodegas.



After hiring a driver for the day, and taking a tour of a vinyard and wine-making museum, we sampled some of Mendoza's finer wines at a place called Vines of Mendoza. We sampled flights of about ten different wines, about half Malbecs.


Our second day, we visited two more vineyards, Bodega Lopez, and Familia Zuccardi. We had a lovely lunch at Familia Zuccardi, complete with pairings of white wines, red wines, and desert wines.

Big bottles at Bodega Lopez.

Turn on the hoses...
At first this looked like playground gravel, but we then found out that it was a huge pile of dried skins and stems that had been removed from the grapes.

Bodega La Rural

As you may already know, wines from Argentina have become more and more popular in the United States over the past couple years. This is due in part to the devaluation of the peso, and in part due to the fact the wineries in Argentina are investing more and more in themselves and creating better quality wines. We tried many different varietals on our tour through Mendoza, but we all agreed with the universally espoused mantra that the Malbecs are the best.

I am told that wine consumption used to be much higher than it is today, but wine is still fairly popular in restaurants and at the dinner table here. Argentina is the world's fifth largest wine procucer, and consumes about 90% of the wine it makes. Although improving, most of the wine produced today is low-quality table wine. Neither Holly or I are wine snobs, however, so we usually don't have any trouble finding affordable bottles that suit our tastes.

Moustache Party!

One of the new friends we made in Bariloche was also staying in Buenos Aires. The house he lived in has a great rooftop terrace and a grill, so he was a fan of having barbecues. As one of his last hoorahs before he returned to Wisconsin for a job interview, he had a moustache barbecue. It is a good way to say goodbye to that scruffy backpacker beard before you return home.

James got into the spirit by shaving his beard into "the knickerbocker" moustache. A style popular amongst oil barons and Civil War soldiers.



For any guy who was not blessed with a full red beard like James or those lacking a "y" chromosome, there was a freshly burned wine cork at the ready. It was entertaining to watch as girls waited their turn with the cork and debated which moustache might suit them best. The possibilites were endless: little french ones, evil curled ones, Tom Selleck's, Van Dyke's, handlebars, gringos, abracadabras, boxcars, the connoisseur and any type a girl could dream of. I thought I should get a moustache that could compliment James'. Similar to the way Posh and Becks dress to compliment the other's outfit.

Marzo Loco

It was a while ago, but I think it is still worth posting. During March Madness, James was itching to see a few Villanova games.
The first one we watched was Villanova v. Duke at a bar called the Alamo. It is a popular place with American study abroad students. I would recommend going just for the grilled chicken sandwich with real bacon on it. We made some new Argentine friends, and James finally succumbed to the man kiss. He said it would never happen but, when it is the custom, it is difficult not to follow suit. Everyone does one casual cheek kiss for introductions, hellos or goodbyes.




We also went to watch the Villanova v. UNC game, which did not have as happy of an ending for Villanova. This game, we watched at Casa Bar. Another spot where you can go and get your fix of North American sports. While the Alamo has a typical American bar/pub feel, Casa Bar has high ceilings, crown molding and a couple of tapestries.

James and I sat down at a table, and a waitress came over to take our drink orders. She asked,"Can I get ya'll something to drink?" I was excited to hear a "ya'll," and to discover that I finally found a fellow Louisianian. Most other people we meet from the U.S. are from California, New York, or Philadelphia. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) She had a heavy southern accent when she spoke both English and Spanish. I discovered this when a group of girls had locked themselves in the bathroom. Our waitress was attempting to get them out and while she pounded on the door, she yelled in her southern accent, "CHICAS, CHICAS." Other gems from the night that we enjoy quoting include: "Un regalo" (which means "a gift" and was said as we were poured some free pints, and "Una pinta mas?" ("one more pint?"). Go ahead and try them aloud to get the full effect. I am not making fun, I really enjoyed meeting her and may need to return when I'm feeling homesick.

El Subte

Since our new apartment is a bit closer to a metro stop, we will probably be taking the metro more often. I figured this would be a good time to write a little post about our experiences with the metro system here in Buenos Aires. The Subte has five main lines labelled "A" through "E". However, all of the lines connect in the city's central business district, so it is not a very convenient ride unless you are commuting back and forth from downtown. Luckily, our university is located downtown, so we have the option of taking the Subte instead of the bus. Our's is the green "D" line. This is the most heavily used of all the Subte lines. Starting out in the Microcentro at the Catedral station, and continuing out through the Recoleta and Palermo neighborhoods, the green line ends in the leafy, residential neighborhhod of Belgrano at the Congreso de Tucumán station. This is a picture taken on the red "B" line:

(I am no longer wearing the moustache. It was groomed for a moustache-related social event.)

The cars on the red "B" line are much older than those on the green "D" line, which has modern well-lit cars (although still no air conditioning). Compared to other subways I have ridden, the Subte is about average. The stations are clean and urine-free, the stops are far enough apart to make it worthwhile, and the trains come every five or ten minutes. Oh, and the cost can't be beat. One ride costs less than US$0.30.

Peace Love and Crafts

In one of my previous posts, I set out to write about hippie paradise, but ended up on a peanut butter tangent. I have since satiated my peanut butter craving, and I am going to attempt to explain the nickname of El Bolson.

El Bolson is a small town that has supposedly long attracted hippies due to its laid back feel. I think the real reason it attracts them is the "artesenal fair" held three times a week in the center of town. A large semi-circle of booths surrounds the main plaza, and hippies are able to peddle their wares. I am personally not a big fan of the artesenal fair. When someone displays a legitimate talent, I can appreciate that. However, I frequently pass people selling friendship bracelets (which I made at summer camp when I was seven) and simple beaded necklaces (popular to make at the Bead Shop when I was fifteen). If I can make an item myself or have made that item myself, I am unimpressed.

As we ate our lunch behind one of the booths, I watched as a woman bent some wire into a sorry looking dream-catcher to add to the others already on display. She sat on the ground with two men and a baby. The baby was on its stomach playing with the pebbles on the ground. It made me stop and think about the hippie lifestyle. What are their lives like? What kind of people are they? Could I ever live that life?

I'll leave out all of my speculation and just cut to my conclusion. I decided that I could live like a hippie...maybe for a summer... and I would have to think of it as a camping trip. I wouldn't mind being casually and comfortably dressed for awhile, but the urge to get dressed up would eventually surface. However, the aspect of hippie life that gave me pause more than anything else was how I would get along with the other hippies. I am too cynical. I imagine it would not take long for them to shun me out of the group. I would question what happens next, and "what if" all the time. I would harsh everyone's mellow.

We're Back...again

You will be delighted to know that we have returned to Buenos Aires, and will be posting again soon. We arrived back in Buenos Aires last night after a 20+ hour bus ride across the South American continent from Santiago, Chile. We were in Santiago to 1) drop my parents off at the airport and 2) visit with one of Holly's friends who has been living in Santiago for the past two months. It was an exausting trip, but it was good to see my parents, and nice to meet Holly's friend. Anyway, please check back over the next couple days for some new posts.



In other news, we have moved into a new apartment. We are in the same neighborhood, but we moved into a nicer building in a more swanky, more residential area. We also now have two roomates; an Argentine eye doctor, and a French business student. Now, instead of Holly and I blabbering back and forth to each other in English all the time, hopefully we will be able to practice blabbering to others in Spanish.

A Most Satisfying Swim - Club Mendoza de Regatas

Mendoza is a city of about a million people, located at the base of the Andes in the heart of Argentina's wine country. If anyone is passing through the city of Mendoza and feels like taking a swim, rowing a boat, doing some taekwondo, or maybe taking some flamenco lessons, I would recommend going to the Club Mendoza de Regatas (CMR). While staying in Medoza, Holly and I woke up too late to take an excursion into the mountains, so instead we got a day pass to CMR. I don't know if there is an equivalent in the United States, but CMR is a country club/YMCA/Jewish Community Center that is located on an artificial lake in a huge park in the center of the city. The place is massive; with several basketball and vollyball courts, weightrooms, saunas and steamrooms, men's and women's hair salons, a tenis de mesa (ping-pong) room, and an onsite nurse (more about her later). The building itself overlooks an Olympic-size swimming pool, the artificial lake at the center of the park and has a very exclusive air about it. You can check out their website here: http://www.cmregatas.com.ar/inicio.htm

Holly and I got there at about two o'clock in the afternoon, after buying bus tickets at the omnibus terminal and walking through the park for a while. The day was beautiful and sunny, and I was hankering for a swim, so we paid the one-day fee and got our stamped daypasses. Then we both went to our respective lockerooms to change into out bathing suits for the day. After putting our stuff on some chairs in a grassy area outside the pool, I took my daypass and attempted to enter the pool area by myself. Then all hell broke loose.

The pool attndent, who had a deep tan and a nicely permed mullet, informed me that there was a problem with my day pass. I fumbled through a few rudimentary questions and answers until he went to go grab a lifeguard who spoke a little English. Here is how that dialogue went:

Lifeguard: "You need...como se dice...umm...dog? You need see dog."
Me: "No entiendo."

Lifeguard: "You need see dog." (while making a gesture at his foot)

Me: "Umm...no entiendo."
Lifeguard: "You understand?"
Me: "I understand everything except for the 'dog' part."

At this point, he tells the attendent to show me what I need to do, so I follow the attendent out of the pool area. Wearing only my bathing suit, I am escorted back into the building, through a series of hallways, and to a door with medical-looking jargon posted on it. The attendent knocks on the door, and a young nurse wearing a lab coat answers. The attendent says something to her, and the nurse beckons me inside. She then closes the door and tells me to sit on the examining table. I am starting to get worried.

I have no idea why I am here. A minute ago, I was ready to go for a swim. Now, I am sitting on an examining table, wearing nothing but my bathing suit, and some nurse is writing something about me on some chart. Then the nurse motions for me to put my feet up on the table, which I interpret as "lie down, please." I do as I am told, lie down on the table, and worry about how far I should let this go without saying something. If her next words are "Please take down your shorts," I'm going to have to say somthing. The nurse notices my hesitation, smiles, and somehow lets me know that she just wants to take a look between my fingers and toes and under my armpits. I spread my toes and fingers for her, and then it then hits me that she is just checking whether I have some sort of fungus problem that would make me a risk for entering the pool. I pass the fungus check with flying colors. The nurse stamps and signs my daypass and happily sends me on my way.

So, after I had been medically cleared to enter the pool, there was just one more hurdle I had to get over before I would be permitted to swim. When I gave the attendent my newly stamped card indicating that I was fungus-free, he pointed to his lovely perm and said something else. I was about to blow my stack. Luckily, Holly was there to help me with this one. By this point, many employees had gathered around the pool entrance to see what was going on. The problem was that I needed a bathing cap. Holly asked where we were supposed to get the bathing caps, and they told her that there was a shop in the clubhouse. She then eloquently explained that we had paid good money to get into this place for one day, all we wanted to do was swim, and we would not be purchasing any bathing caps.

One of the employees then said that he could hook us up with loaner caps. We were both relieved, until he busted out in English, "Ten dollars!" I looked at him for a second, then he slapped me on the back and started laughing. I went with him to get the caps, and at the end of the ordeal he told me that my Spanish was good.

After we finally sorted everything out, I did a few laps, did a little people watching, tome un poco de sol, and generally had a most satisfying swim.

(Upon further reflection, we believe that when the lifeguard told me that I needed to see "dog," he was trying to tell me that I needed to see a "doc". This would fall in line with our theory that the people of Argentina have a strange obsession with a certain trilogy starring Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd. This would not be the first time an Argentine has inexplicably referenced Back to the Future. Some guy named Marty introduced himself to Holly at a bar and, when she asked him again what his name was, he replied "Marty. Like Marty McFly.")

Fun With Hitchhiking

After filling our bellies at the hippie market, we took a hike into the mountains around El Bolson. Our first goal was to reach the Cabeza del Indio, a rock outcropping that supposedly looks like the head of an Indian. Holly is clearly amazed at this geological wonder:


After viewing the Indian head rock, we decided to take another route back to town and check out some of the waterfalls in the surrounding forests. As you can see, the trail was dusty, and a lot longer than we expected:

We did finally make it out to the waterfalls, and got some nice snapshots:

This detour also gave Holly and I the opportunity to do something we had been talking about doing the entire trip. The sun was beginning to set, and we were still a good 15 km from town. We were tired, dusty, and dangerously low on water. Everytime we got into this situation, Holly would suggest that we just bum a ride with someone back into town. Up until this point, we had been unable to work up the courage to ask anyone. The time was right, and I decided to spring into action.

Earlier, at the base of the waterfalls, I had asked an Argentine couple if they wanted me to take a photo of them together, and we struck up a little conversation. So, while Holly was asking one of the park rangers about which trails to take to walk back into town, I went back over to the Argentine guy and asked him if he and his girlfriend were heading back to El Bolson (I knew they had a car). He told me that they were driving to another waterfall first, but were staying in El Bolson, and would drive back after checking out the next waterfall. Considering my limited Spanish (and the fact that I didn't want to invite myself along), I just kinda stood there for a while until the guy finally asked if we wanted to come along with them. So off we went with Leandro and Carla. Coincidentally, they were both law students from the south of the country. Leandro also worked in a bank.

So many of the Argentines we have met work and go to school. It really is strange. I don't know if school is not as demanding, or if work is not as demanding, but everyone in their 20's seems to do both. Leandro taught me how to use the time delay function on my camera, so we took this (lopsided) photo while the camera was sitting on a rock:

Leandro was a living example of the Italian influence on the way Argentines speak. He had an exaggerated hand gesture for everything. From his thoughts about where we should go next, to his opinion about the sexual preferences of Ricky Martin, his mannerisms were a tutorial on Argentine communication.

Bolson

I should have been suspicious of this town from the start. It's hazy now on why I decided to go there in the first place. The nickname of the town should have tipped me off that this wasn't my kind of town. It's nickname is "hippie paradise." Maybe I was thinking that it would be a relaxed, laid-back town. Honestly, I am embarrassed to admit it but, I think I wanted to go there because the guidebook mentioned something about waffles.

I always miss American breakfast in other countries. There are pancakes in Argentina, but they are not the same as American pancakes, and they are served as a dessert item. I managed to find bacon on a sandwich at an expat bar, which was a real treat, but otherwise bacon is non-existent. The traditional breakfast items in Argentina are medialunas: little mini-croissants that are often less fluffy, less buttery, and less flaky. I have found some good medialunas at my local cafe, Del Pilar, but I can only eat so many. Apparently, I thought a two hour bus ride and a few days in hippie paradise were worth it to get a waffle.
That is a belgian waffle with strawberries, blackberries and rasberries with real cream.

Arguably, I am more embarrassed about the lengths I went to in order to satisfy my peanut butter cravings. I understand that peanut butter is a typically American delicacy. I am also okay with the natural, oily peanut butter found in other countries. Before I left the U.S., I considered bringing some. However, I figured that if I could find some semblance of peanut butter in Ecuador, then surely I could find it in a major world city like Buenos Aires. Needless to say, it has been a difficult search. While we were in Bariloche, I thought about opening a store there with items backpackers would be missing from home. James asked me what else I would sell in the store, and the only thing I really ever came up with was peanut butter.

It's not like I am a peanut butter addict. At home, I indulge every once in a while. The problem here is that I do not eat ham. Ham is the meat of choice in Argentina, and it comes in a wide variety of forms, but it is basically the only lunch meat option. I wander the grocery aisles and stare in the fridge, but when it comes to lunchtime, I'm at a loss. I got by on salami and hot dogs for a while, but I'm not that wild about those two in the first place, so that didn't last long. Then, one day I had an epiphany (or a breakdown, I'm not sure which). I thought, I like peanut butter and banana sandwiches. I have bananas. I have peanuts. Why not combine the two?

James, bless his heart, went along with my scheme. We bought bread, bananas and a package of peanuts. This was our picnic at the Villa Traful in Bariloche. I took pieces of banana and put them on the bread. Then, I took peanuts and smushed them into the bananas. It was a desperate act, but I can't help but think what would have happened if we had just bought regular peanuts instead of fried. Luckily for James, a jar is on its way with his parents and arrives Easter morning.

Mt. Tronador

After bumming around Bariloche and doing some hiking in the surrounding national parks for a few days, we decided to go see a mountain that was a bit bigger. We got up early and grabbed a shuttle bus that took us on the 2 1/2 hour drive to the base of Mt. Tronador, in Nahuel Huapi national park. Mt. Tronador is an extinct volcano rising 3,491 m (11,453 ft) above sea-level.


We were the only hikers that were going to the national park for the day. The rest of the people on our bus had their serious hiking gear and sleeping bags, and were intending to stay for a while. After realizing this, Holly and I knew that we had to hike fast. We wouldn't be going to the top of the mountain. Rather, we would be hiking to the base of the "Black Glacier," much closer to Pampa Linda.





Here are some pictures of the "Black Glacier." If it just kind of looks like dirty ice on your screen, there is nothing wrong with your computer.

Our map indicated that there was a waterfall not far from the trail so, on our descent, we decided to go check it out. Once we got a bit further down the mountain, we became surrounded again by the bamboo forest that we became accustomed to outside of Bariloche. The trail to the waterfall was nice, and we actually ran into a guy from Buenos Aires who went rafting with us a few days earlier.

Bariloche-Parte Tres

Bariloche has several walking paths to lakes and lookouts just outside the town. The trails can be reached by taking one of the local buses. At the very end of the number twenty bus route is the Hotel Llao Llao and its golf course. Apparently, Einstein and some other famous people once stayed at the hotel. There isn't much to do on the hill where the Hotel is located but we were lucky to run into a nice old couple at the bottom of it. The maps we had from the tourist office and hostel left us wondering where we should go. The old couple however, had a map from the Hotel Llao Llao that was much clearer and had the exact times and lengths for each path. We figured that part of what you were paying for at the hotel was the better maps.


Many people bike on a road called the Circuito Chico and all the walking paths can be reached from this road. We could not figure out why people were interested in biking because none of the scenery was visible from this road. Not to mention, the road was gravel with cars whizzing past and kicking up clouds of dust. We just stuck to the trails which could be traversed with a minimal amount of time on the road.

Our favorite spot was the Villa Traful. We ended up going to this lake beach twice because we overslept one morning and missed our bus. Once you reach the end of the path to the lake, one of three ways takes you to different lake beaches separated by rocks. This gives each of them a private and exclusive feeling.

A new British friend from the hostel accompanied us one day and we were also visited by others from the hostel doing the bike tour. It felt like a real beach day, hanging out, eating and getting some sun. James jumped off some of the rocks with the other guys and I once again watched. Jumping off rocks and angling your trajectory in just the right way so you don't hit the rocks at the bottom, did not appeal to me. I was happy to be the photographer.
I'm pretty sure that the guy with the beard is Ryan Gosling and he was just using a fake name and staying at a hostel just to throw everyone off.

The lake water is beautiful and clear and absolutely freezing. When I slid into the water from a rock, I was shocked by the cold and I felt my lungs begin to tighten. I actually started to panic for a minute that I wouldn't be able to get enough air in to be able to swim and I scurried back up onto one of the rocks. For some reason though, each time that I got into the water it became more bearable and I was able to swim more. In between dips, I spent my time sunning myself on a rock like a lizard. I was going to spare everyone from the bathing suit shots but this sums up my feelings about the water.

Lights, camera, action

Today is Día del Veterano de Guerra y de los Caídos en la Guerra de las Malvinas, a public holiday here in Argentina. The day is observed to remember those Argentine soldiers who died during the brief Falklands War with the UK in 1982. About 650 Argentine soldiers were killed during the 74 day war, and there is a monument here in Buenos Aires with all of the names of the fallen soldiers carved into a black marble wall. We didn't have class today, so Holly and I spent a slow morning at our corner cafe. A former president of Argentina, Raul Alfonsin, died two days ago, so all the TV's here are tuned in to his state funeral. Alfonsin was a champion of democracy, and many of the banners and signs lining his funeral route reference his contributions to helping return democratic rule to Argentina. It seems like he was a very popular man. Here is a link to his NY Times obit: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/01/world/americas/01alfonsin.html?partner=rss&emc=rss.

During the covereage of his funeral, the camera was panning through the crowd, looking for people that were showing outward displays of emotion. The cameraman stopped for a while on a man who appeared to be wiping tears from his eyes, but then quickly panned away when it became obvious that he was merely scratching an itch.

This mistake reminded me of another cameraman's gaffe to which we were treated while watching a live boxing match on TV at a bar in San Martin de Los Andes. In between rounds, the camera was doing the usual boxing match activity of scanning the crowd, looking for attractive women in revealing outfits. It stopped a couple times on various young women, got some applause, then moved on. The third woman it stopped on was seated, but was showing an impressive amount of cleavage. She remained seated, and the camera stayed on her for a while. Eventually, the man seated in front of her got up to go to the bathroom, revealing why so much of the woman's chest was visible. She was breastfeeding a baby. At two a.m. At a boxing match. Ringside.