LP's adventures in BA

one more anecdote from Jujuy

2008-04-12T21:14:00.000-07:00

So, i forgot to tell you about this amazing time in the noroeste de Argentina. Almost every night, Logan and I went out to a pena, a bar/restaurant where local folklorico music is performed. One special night in Tilcara, the musicians were particularly amazing. After the show, we struck up a conversation with them and I mentioned that I am taking folkloric guitar lessons in Buenos Aires. He handed me his guitar and I began to play a Samba called Luna Tucumana. Catriel, the musician, got his flute and started playing along with me, meanwhile the people behind us were singing along. I love how people here have a connection to and a passion for their national music, and how the songs have so much more meaning than those of say, Shania Twain. (sorry if you happen to be a fan) It was a blast. I ended up going to another local pub with Catriel and friends, where everyone was far too drunk for their own good, and we played guitar and sang our heads off until the sun came up.

Noroeste Argentino

2008-04-07T05:53:00.000-07:00

I can not believe I have not written anything since January 24. Here is a catch up: Danielle came at the end of February for a little over a week and then Mom came for 10 days. We had a great time walking all around the city, checking out museums, going to the markets. Mom was a real trooper--one night we stayed out at a milonga until 3 am because the live tango orchestra did not start playing until 2 am! Then in late March Logan came to visit and we went up north. The natural beauty was spectacular. We rented a car in Salta and drove all around Salta and Jujuy provinces. I, of course, brought my camera along and took some 2,000 photos. Highlights: listening to live folk music from the region, meandering through the artisan markets, driving through the jungle to get to the desert, going horseback riding in Tilcara, visiting the salinas grandes (salt flats), the archeological museum of Salta where we saw a mummy, and the 50 km, 3 hour bus ride up and down a scary mountain on a one lane dirt road in the rain to a village called Iruya. But back to the mummy....in 1999, archaeologists discovered three bodies atop nearby Mount Llullaillaca. The bodies were those of children who had been part of a human sacrifice ritual performed by the incas some 500 years ago. The body that was currently in the museum was the well-preserved body of a 15 year old girl. Apparently, the Incas would choose one child from each of the four main inca villages (from Peru, Argentina and Bolivia) to be marched up to the top of Mount Llullaillaca. The child was chosen based solely upon aesthetics, a child who was seen to have no physical imperfections. Then the child would be sent on a long, tiresome journey to the mountain top, given some kind of alcohol to drink and then left alone in some hole to die. They were thought to become some kind of god, and to watch over their people for eternity. What the #%@!?? If they did that me, I tell you I would be one pissed off god.
So the trip was a amazing and I can not wait to go back. Oh, and I got to feed a llama. They sure can masticate some corn.
Photos from top to bottom:
cows on the road
me in Iruya
Purmamarca
Route 9 near Purmamarca
Route 9 in Jujuy
sheepherder
salinas grandes
the church in Tilcara
some creepy old man that i photographed before he tried to kiss me
the route 68 to Cafayate

homesick

2008-01-24T10:44:00.000-08:00

if you've ever lived abroad you know the feeling. it kicks in about 2 months after you arrive, after the initial excitment of being in a new country wears off. i don't mean to say i am depressed or anything, just that i have been thinking lately about family and friends and about how far away they are. more than anything, i miss jude and evan because i can't call them or email them and i worry that jude will forget who i am while i am gone. i had a dream the other night that i came back and went into their house and jude looked at me and said, "wowo! you're here!" it's what he used to always say whenever i went over to visit..and it always made me smile so big. (he calls me "lolo", but can't pronounce his l's too well) i wonder if when i get back he will know the alphabet, if he will be singing songs. hell, at the rate he's been going, he may have built a computer by now.
and little evan, who was just a squirmy little 6 weeks old when i left, will be 7 months old when i get home. she will be a new person entirely, with her own personality and smile. here are some family pics. if you aren't in there, it does NOT mean i don't love you, it just means i don't have any pictures of you in my iphoto...

Beeg, Important Deek

2008-01-09T13:26:00.000-08:00

Spanish school and tango studios closed for the holidays. Anne-e and I went to wine country and Cordoba, which were wonderful. Some frustrating things occurred, but the funny things that happened along the way balanced everything out. It all started when we flew on a very turbulent plane to Mendoza, Argentina's Napa Valley. Although people had warned us about traveling during the holidays, we of course ignored them, and in addition to that, made no measures to plan anything in advance. Therefore, despite our daily efforts, we were unable to rent a car to go wine tasting. Finally we resorted to the idea of wine tasting on bikes, probably not the wisest thing considering Argentinian drivers, but hey, we were desperate. But it turned out that we couldn't even rent bicycles because we did not reserve in advance! The common phrase in Mendoza is, "NO HAY NADA". This means, in case you did not figure it out, "WE AIN'T GOT NADA FOR YOU DUMBASS GRINGOS". So, in a final act of desperation, we reserved a..god I hate to say it...wine tour. And as we had predicted, it was terrible. We were first to be picked up and therefore thought our luck had changed. After a few minutes of thinking we had the tour all to ourselves we spent the subsequent hour and a half driving around the town picking people up from their hotels, one person here, one person there, until the minibus was so full that a hamster could not even have found a place to sit (even if he had reserved). And I am pretty sure the minibus gave me a spinal injury. Didn’t they start putting shocks in cars in like, 1960?
The tour was replete with our very own “English translator”, who we were pretty sure was just a friend of the tour guide who was in a last-minute pinch for a translator and whose plea went something like this:
Ring! Ring!
“Hola, Maria, my translator didn’t show up and I need someone real bad! You took English in second grade, right?”
“Why, yes. I would love to accompany you and get drunk on the wine tour! And yes, I do know a few words in English”
So, as the rest of the bus got lengthy explanations of the history of the wine region, we got, “So yees zees is old winery”
And when we went to the famous dike in the region, after everyone was looking amazed out the windows at the rushing waters, our translator took the mic and said, “so yees, zees is very beeg, important deek”. At which point Anne-e and I could no longer contain our laughter.
At the end of the tour of the region of Maipu (indeed pronounced my-poo), she thanked us with a genuine, “Now we are finally, so you go now, sanks.” It had been 9 very long hours..

Hey, at least we got to taste TWO wines!

Mendoza is a beautiful town, with five main plazas set up like a 5 dice. All the plazas are so green and full of trees and benches. It was really nice. The city is basically in a desert, so for irrigation they have these aqueducts that run along every sidewalk in the city and if you don’t watch out, you might fall in. (We nearly did whilst walking home one night)

We stayed at a place called Hotel Petit, which really was petite. In fact, they might consider changing their name to Hotel Invisible. At night I had to stay very still because if I turned over, I ran the risk of knocking my glass of water off the nightstand, or the phone off the wall. One middle of the night, I bumped by head on the corner of the nightstand.

We decided to become “one with nature” in the Andes, which were only a few hours away by bus so we bought tickets and went for one day to Parque Aconcagua, where the highest mountain outside the Himalayas can be seen, or climbed if yer totally nuts. The bus ride was scary and hilarious. See attached photo of bus driver who spent more time smoking cigarettes, talking on his cellphone and waving at me in the rearview mirror than driving the bus.

But we made it there safely and it was spectacular. And extremely cold and windy. And we city slickers did not think to bring warm clothing. I did, however, bring a towel along for the hot springs, which ended up being closed for repair. So, I wrapped the towel around my shoulders, clutched my purse and my plastic grocery bag of snacks and waved at the professional trekkers walking by with all their gear shaking their heads at us. Anne-e must have felt bad for me because she switched and gave me her sweatshirt and wore the towel, cursing me every time the wind blew.
We trekked for, oh, about 15 minutes then went down the road to Puente del Inca, see photo of yellow earwax looking stuff, which I believe is limestone and sulfur, around an old pueblo. It was neat. The people here are so nice, and this one Chilean guy, who was selling stuff (including yellow lab puppies for $50) talked to us for a long time. We almost missed our bus while he was showing us family pictures and his kids’ report cards. We ran for the bus, and on that trip back to Mendoza I lost my iPod.

Life here is very different than in the states. For example, it’s not uncommon for a taxi driver to push his car to get it started. You are meant to get in while he pushes. Seatbelts are never worn, and are generally out of order. Sometimes I get all excited because the strap is there…but then there is no buckle. Kids stand in the backseats of moving cars and the latest shocker was a man riding a moped with a baby in a bjorn in the front and a toddler holding on in the back. People really do not eat or go out until late, and I mean LATE. The other week Anne-e and I went to a nightclub at 12:30 am and were the first people there. Everyone else showed up two hours later. Another major difference is that Argentines apparently celebrate holidays in holes under the ground. For Christmas and New Year’s, there were absolutely no restaurants open, and not a soul in the streets. It was eerie to walk around a seemingly desolate city that is usually bustling. We were still in Mendoza for New Year’s Eve. We meandered the city for no less than three hours trying to find any place to eat. Each hour that passed, we became less picky. I suggested a supermarket, but it was closed. A pizza joint, McDonald’s, anything! But even McDonald’s was closed. As we got more and more desperate and hungry I finally recalled the peanuts I still had in the bottom of my suitcase. Just as we had given up and decided to go back to the hotel, and ring 2008 with water and old peanuts, we walked by a Parilla (Argentine grill) that was open. It turned out to be a lot of fun. It was full of Argentine families and we were all sitting outside, in a courtyard. Michael Jackson was blasting on the radio and at midnight fireworks went up in the sky. Little kids were running around with sparklers and it reminded me of how much I used to love that as a kid. Then three really drunk Japanese people appeared and were hugging us and saying Happy New Year. They went from table to table toasting the families. They were hilarious. And with a bottle of wine our check was all of $12.
After one week in Mendoza, we were ready to get to Cordoba. Cordoba is the academic capital of Argentina as most of the country’s universities are located there. We only spent two days there but there was a lot to do. Mostly, we just meandered and admired the spanish architecture. We decided to splurge on a hotel for two nights and thus stayed in a "fancier" place that cost a whole $50 a night. I slept much better in this hotel, especially after I threw Anne-e's watch out the window of our hotel room. The damn thing would BEEP every hour, on the hour, and the sound of it had begun to drive me nuts. Luckily she only paid like ten bucks for it. The funny thing was that in the morning, when I went to check out, the receptionist was wearing the watch and she asked me if it was mine! She said it was on the restaurant patio, right below our room. I lied and said it wasn't mine, trying with all my might to keep a straight face. I wonder how many hours went by before she flushed it down a toilet.
So after two days we were tired of cities and took a minibus 3 hours north to a small town in the Sierra Mountains called, La Cumbre. We spent three fantastic days there. One day we went horseback riding and that was my first time. Our guide, who looked like a cross between the Marlboro Man and Frederic from The Sound of Music, took us way out into the mountains and I have never seen anything so beautiful. We did not encounter anyone the entire trip but we saw sheep, goats, cows and horses and we got chased by some donkeys that wanted us off their turf. So, yes, 4 hours on horseback and I was in pain! Serious pain! But it was well worth it. I wanted to stay and become a horse farmer.
La Cumbre was lovely. We rented bikes and rode all around town. They had the best helado there (ice cream). Our last, and my favorite, adventure was paragliding. La Cumbre is famous for paragliding and many world champion paragliding acrobats live there and offer lessons and tandem flights. It cost 200 pesos (about $65) for a chance to fly. It was so awesome. In our hostel we met J.R., a 55-year-old man from Colorado who decided a few years ago to get his paragliding license and travel South America to paragliding every year during the cold months in Colorado. Another couple staying there were from Switzerland and they also had their licenses. They were traveling all of South America on a rickety motorcycle with all of their paragliding and camping gear strapped on. I wonder if they got that idea from The Motorcycle Diaries.
When you travel on a budget, you take buses everywhere. Our bus ride home to Buenos Aires was a grueling 14 hours. As I write this, I am sitting in my room in the 91-degree heat of the city. The weather said although it is only 91, it "feels" like 100. The only thing keeping me alive is a ceiling fan and lots of water. Still going to Spanish class every day at 9 am and improving. I am even reading Harry Potter in Spanish! That will make Brooke very happy.

las clases de espanol

2007-12-22T05:48:00.000-08:00

Hola! It is saturday morning and I got to sleep in after my first week of intensive spanish classes. My class goes Monday-Friday for four hours a day. This, plus lots of homework, has already helped to improve my spanish. It's amazing how much information can be crammed into a brain in one week!
The only problem is, now I can't speak French. Anne-e speaks French too, so we speak together all the time (especially when we want to talk about weird people on the subway). But now my French is coming out as some crazy amalgam of the two languages. Just great.
I have also been finding my niche in the tango scene. At first, I was disconcerted by the enormousness of it. I didn't know where to go and found myself in a giant tango hall, among 100 other people trying to learn the tango. Finally I have found an actual tango school downtown that i like, so I will probably be going there from now on.
We went last night to see Mercedes Sosa. If you have not heard her music, you must get it. She is an older lady now, but her voice is still just as powerful, and was even more so in concert. It was fantastic.
My spanish school is closed for two weeks for the holidays (it soo does not feel like Christmas here at 90 degrees!) so Anne-e and I might try to get a bus ticket to Mendoza, the wine country.
Happy Holidays and love and hugs to everyone!

new things

2007-12-15T10:33:00.000-08:00

Here are some photos of my new house in Buenos Aires. Also, my new tango shoes. I love them so...

My Address here is:

Pasaje Russell 4955
Buenos Aires
Argentina

Grandma Lauren

2007-12-09T11:31:00.000-08:00

So today I was riding in a cab. As I mentioned, I enjoy talking with the drivers as they have all been so kind. This particular man passed a photo back of an adorable little girl and said, "mi nieta linda." I agreed, passing the photo back to him, I said, "Yo tambien. Tengo una nieta." He looked surprised and said, "Es impossible!" I said, "Si, Tengo una nieta y un nieto." Then he asked how old I was and I said 28. He said "nieta" was "la hija de mi hija". That's when I realized I had said, with much conviction, that I had both a granddaughter and a grandson. He laughed hysterically and I said I meant the kids of my brother. That would be, "sobrina y sobrino". Apparently I am learning Spanish the hard way, via complete humiliation.

Uruguay

2007-12-08T06:44:00.000-08:00

We spent the past two days in a small town in Uruguay, Colonia del Sacramento. The town is across the Rio de la Plata from Buenos Aires, only a one hour boat trip. Declared by UNESCO as a world heritage site, the town has a city gate and wooden drawbridge, a lighthouse and convent ruins and old, cobblestone streets. It was very peaceful and quiant. Everyone in town rides old scooters and mopeds, like the one I have in San Francisco (a 1979 Motobecane). I really wanted to rent one, which you could do for $10 for the day, but I decided those streets were not exactly conducive to moped riding (or walking, even) and that it would end up being a real pain in the ass.
Nevertheless, entire families took to riding the streets, piling onto their mopeds and just hoping the little ones would hold on tight! I am not kidding. There were two year-olds just riding on the back of Dad's moped, barely able to get their short little arms around the sides of his back. And not a helmet in sight. Except for one dorky American couple we kept seeing riding about. Helmets may save your life, but they sure do look silly! Unfortunately, I did not get a decent shot of the families on mopeds. I felt kind of rude blatantly snapping photos of them.
Antique cars were ubiquitous as well.
Like Argentines, Uruguayans are the kindest people I have ever encountered. They actually walk up to you if you seem lost and ask how they can help. I have also had countless discussions (in espanol!) with taxi drivers in Buenos Aires. They are so helpful and friendly and genuinely curious about you. Of course, they could have easily been saying with a kind smile, "Ha! You don't understand a word I am saying, do you? What an idiot!" That would be when I glance confusedly at Anne-e and say, "Did you get that? Hmm, I didn't get that part.." then I look back at the cabbie in the rearview mirror and say, "Si, claro."
Tonight is tango. My first milonga in Buenos Aires. A milonga is a traditional tango dance party. They usually start around 11 am and go until about 5 am. Which is not unusual for here, as dinner time is not before 10! Anne-e and I are not accustomed to this. By 8 we are hungry. By 9 we are salivating and by 10 we head to dinner, always to be the first people to arrive.
We found a place to live! We each rented rooms in a shared house in Palermo, a really great neighborhood, close to everything. The girl we are renting from is Argentinian and very nice, so we are really looking forward to speaking Spanish at home. Now that we know where we are living, we are going to sign up for our classes, which we are both eager to begin.
So tango. I derail a lot...so we met these guys on the boat back from Uruguay, two Americans, who are living in Buenos Aires and one of them plays Flamenco guitar, which Anne-e wants to learn now. So we are going to tango class tonight with them, since they have never done it and were interested in trying it. Anne-e probably won't dance because she has two left feet (she says that, not me!) but maybe she will watch and write a book about it.
More next week, luvas. And I will post my new address in case anyone wants to send me something I can't get here like antibacterial soap, or cough suppressant or ass wipes. Seriously, the tiolet paper here is like tree bark.

First days..

2007-12-01T10:46:00.000-08:00

Anne-e and I arrived in Buenos Aires early Wednesday morning. Our first welcome was the kind taxi driver who overcharged us and made us walk a mile with our luggage to his car. Then we arrived at our temporary apartment, which is beautiful and enormous. (See photo) The downside is that we quickly realized we had roommates. Shiny ones. The ones they wrote that La Cookooracha song about. Since Wednesday we have spent most of our time exploring the city and trying to figure out what the f*#@! people are saying. The first indication that I am currently far from proficient in Spanish goes like this: We went into a store. The saleswoman approached and began to say something. “What is she saying?” I am thinking to myself, starting to panic. I am staring at her, what is she saying, why is she speaking so fast? I must have looked like an...American. She repeated herself twice in Spanish, but one of the following made her finally switch to English:

a) The look of puzzlement (or sheer terror) on my face gave her a smidgen of empathy for the retarded tourist.

b) She had many other things to do that day.

c) She wanted to prove she was better than me.

In retrospect, I imagine it was option a.

“How are you?" She said. I guess those few months of Spanish classes at Pima College did not pay off after all. Still, if I ever need to say such phrases as: “The beefsteak of Roberto is very tender.” Or, “This lobster is juicy and delicious and the salad of tomato is fresh.” I will be just fine..

The plan is to first find a permanent apartment. Then we will be starting Spanish classes as soon as possible. We are considering 20 hours of instruction per week. It is quite amazing how much Spanish I have managed to pick up in the few days I have been here. Very few people speak English and therefore I have been forced to use Spanish.
I am also gearing up for the Tango scene. I hope to be on Dancing with the Stars next year!
That’s all for today. More later. Love you all and miss you tremendously.