Recap of Salta

A few months ago I decided to leave my comfort zone of Buenos Aires and travel north to Salta. Let me start it off by telling you a little about myself. If you know me well, you may know that I am a control freak for safety. I have difficulty crossing the road because I have a horrible fear that a car's gonna get me, but my greatest safety concern is pick pocketing or mugging. On several occasions I have snuck behind my friends and tried "robbing" them often leaving everyone pissed and annoyed at my attempts. For my 9 months that I have lived in Buenos Aires I had never had any brush with robbery. I hug my purse to me like a child and glare at everyone walking by, not ideal for making friends. Well, at the beginning of our 1.5 week journey something interesting happened, I went to the bathroom. In the two minutes (there was a line) that I was in the bathroom I was literally left with only the clothes on my back. I had asked my friend Emily to watch my belongings which included my purse filled to the top with electronics, glasses, my passport, credit cards and my backpack the size of a toddler filled with clothes and shoes.

 Our friend Chris was waiting for us by the bus. He had put one backpack filled with clothes on his left side and another filled with his computer, passport, ipod, camera and other personal trinkets on his right side. On his left side, someone asked him where the information center was, and in that moment as Chris talked to the devilish stranger, his little backpack was swiped. Instinct told him to run after the question asker and abandon his other large bag that surely would have disappeared as well. Instead, Chris had his wits about him and ran inside to drop his back off with Emily and hurried off to chase the guy he talked to. So now our friend is watching three large backpacks and two purses. In the chaos of everything another group of artful dodgers decided to take advantage of the situation. One man started asking my friend questions very very slowly. "Whatttt happened? What did he get stolen? Whattt???" As Emily tried to explain the situation to her new friend she then observed the backpacks she was guarding. She looked around and saw that my backpack...my stuffed backpack, had disappeared. I walked out of the bathroom to find my friend crying and apologizing profusely, "I am so so sorry, I have no idea where your backpack is." In those few minutes I was filled in on what happened and extremely grateful that my purse filled with everything precious to me wasn't snagged either. We even quipped that it was a good thing she didn't see someone sneak off with my backpack or she would have chased after them and everything else would have disappeared along with it. 

The three of us had to make a split decision, we could get on our bus that was leaving in 5 minutes and continue with our trip as planned or we could seek out the police and report our robbery. We watched our bus drive away and looked for the police station. The police couldn't have been kinder or more patient with us. We were all torn up about what had happened, particularly Chris. We filed out report and exchanged numbers with the cops. We never did hear back from them. The next part was tackling the bus company.

In my experience in Argentina, customer service isn't something that is valued. The customer is not right, people don't bend over backwards to be accommodating. It's something that pisses me off but also something you learn to deal with. The day my backpack was stolen, I felt truly sorry for the lady that had to deal with me. I blacked out in my fury, I barely recognized myself. But alas the lady at the ticket window had little sympathy about our story, even when we had the cops testify for us. It wasn't the company's fault that we missed the bus and they were not responsible for refunding our tickets. After about an hour on the phone with the customer service hot line we were able to get 30% of our ticket refunded but the bus company didn't have a bus leaving for another two days. So we booked a return trip with them (which we ended up changing and paying way too much for) and decided to buy tickets from a new company rather than go home and mope about what had happened for two days. 

Despite our rough departure, our trip to Salta was remarkable. It was the first time that I felt like I was in a Latin American County. Buenos Aires can be deceivingly cosmopolitan sometimes that you forget that it's not a good representative of the rest of the country. The people were so much more simple in the way they dressed, the houses they lived in and the food they ate. We ate so many fried empanadas, tamales and humitas. All delicious, but different from the diversity I craved in my diet. 

Salta is beautiful! There are so many little towns that have retained their original charm. We went hiking, wine tasting, white water rafting. The coolest thing were the salt flats where you could take pictures and it had a really neat optical illusion effect. We went out to little towns that just got electricity within the last 5 years. Hostels meant staying in people's homes and the townspeople couldn't have been kinder or more hospitable. 

Visiting Salta was the perfect way to end my life in Argentina. I was able to see beyond Buenos Aires yet it ignited a desire to get to know the rest of the country as well as the whole of Latin America. Till next time.

Things I miss/don't miss about Argentina

Things I  miss: 

Deep conversations with cab drivers

Speaking castellano 

Feeling like a grandma for going home at 4 AM 

Saying hi to people as they pass

PDA (never thought I'd say this one)

Kissing the vegetable man hello and goodbye

The cafe culture, strong expresso 

Leisurely strolls 

Colectivos that take you everywhere

Cheap STEAK and provoleta 

Asados 

Feriados (Holidays) 

Good affordable wine 

Friendships with the people in my neighborhood 

Things I don't miss: 

Everyone being late 

Subway strikes

clutching my purse in front of me 

Sweet breads 

Lobster shoes

THIEVES 

Pre-paid phone cards  

Finding monedas for the colectivos

Planes, Boats and Buses

    It turns out that blogging is harder to keep up with than I had expected. I thought now is just as good as any to bring you all up to date on my eventful 2010 year. After my sister's 11 day visit I had the week to recharge my batteries before I was again swept up in my official tour guide position. This time with two of my best friends from high school Carolyn and Chris. For their visit I decided to jam pack as much traveling and cover as much ground as we could in the period of 7 days. I had barely let them put down their bags and freshen up before we were off devouring steak and wine and went out for a long day and night exploring Buenos Aires. Early the next morning, after getting home at 6, we left our house at 8 and headed over on the Buquebus ferry to Carmelo, Uruguay for 1 day and 1 night.

    In Carmelo, Carolyn and Chris got their first taste of horseback riding, we kayaked out to swim in the sunset, they experienced a traditional asado and the official wine of Uruguay, tannat along with home made cheeses made at a family run vineyard called Narbona. Writing about it transports me back to the rustic style restaurant with bottles carefully stacked together to create a wall and a sleepy feel to the restaurant where you can wander the vineyards or lounge lazily on comfy couches enjoying the best dulce de leche I have had in my life. Trust me, I'm an expert now.

    The day after we got back from Carmelo, the three of us flew out to Mendoza, the official wine country of Argentina. Mendoza is located to the west of Buenos Aires and to the east of the Andes Mountains and has it's claim to fame for the Argentine wine Malbec. I had insisted to both Carolyn and Chris that we stay in a hostel, it's more economic and it's part of the Latin American travel experience. After calming Carolyn's nerves I reassured her that this hostel had been highly recommended by my friends, had a pool and that hostel's are generally fun and safe places. Chris and I had backpacked Europe together and knew how great hostels could be, Carolyn, on the other hand had never had the joy of sharing a room with 5 strangers. Confident and cocky I walked into our hostel looking forward to hanging by the pool and flopping down on my bed. We get our room assignments, and walked to our 6 man room. As we entered the room we were greeted by a truly awful stench and sight. His name was Lewis and was a 38 year-old Canadian that was lying on his back on the bottom bunk mwith his grotesque belly hanging out over his unzipped trousers, "Sorry I've been pretty sick lately he grumbled." I looked at Carolyn and noticed the on-edge "I'm going to kill you" look that I have seen only a few times in my life. "I hope you feel better," quips Carolyn. We quickly discard our belongings in their respective lockers and pray that Lewis is not in the room when we get back.

                                                                                 Jaws

    I try to make the most out of our smelly living situation. "At least he's only here for one night. In the meantime lets check out the pool." We agree and walk into the sunny, arid air and look for the pool. The pool is deceptively small. It's like a giant hot tub, but cold and grimy looking...not something that any of us are willing to wade into. I started feeling anxious about our accomodations, I was the tour guide after all! Everything had to be perfect. I started playing with the GIANT but friendly German Shepard in a frightening game of fetch. I would toss the ball and he would bring it back and drop it in my lap then I would reach for it and his humongous jaws would reach for the ball as along with my hand. Chris, Carolyn and I decided it was best to go explore before we became a chew toy to this monsterous animal. 

    We headed out into the famed town of Mendoza to figure out how we could get to some vineyards. We ended up taking a tour that picked us up from our hostel and took us to a large and small winery, olive oil factory and an artsenal liquor store. The wine tastings were brief but fun but nothing that moved me to buy bottles of wine. The next day we decided to venture beyond vineyars and hit the local thermal spas. For only a few hundred pesos we got picked up from our hostel and taken into thermal spas within the Andes mountains, given a massage and an unlimited lunch buffet!  We relaxed in different temperature pools and slathered our bodies with mud and then baked ourselves in the sun. At the end of the day Carolyn and I felt like we had a face lift and were burned to a crisp! Our last day in Mendoza was spent on the rapids of River Mendoza white water rafting. We had a lovely day trip paddling the level 3 rapids and hanging out with our friendly boat mates.

                                                              The thermal spas in Mendoza

    That night we took the overnight bus home to Buenos Aires. The buses in Argentina are light years better than Greyhound but they are also quite bizarre. For example there are different bed options: semi bed and full bed. We decided on the the semi-bed for price reasons. They started off our 16 hour bus ride with a full bus game of bingo, where the winner walked away with a bottle of wine, followed by a dinner. Hmm, the dinner was very interesting. They gave us trays with little compartments that contained a piece of bread, rice, and cheese which we all picked at warily assuming that this was our dinner. About 15 minutes later our bus attendant dropped hot mashed potatoes and beef on our trays, which were suprisingly tasty. We were also given a choice of orange soda or nothing to drink. After dinner the lights were dimmed, this was an over night bus ride, and the movie Madagascar 2 came on full blast. Nope, there were no head phone options. The noise was very distracting as were the people around us trying out new ringtones on their phones. 

    Back in BA, Carolyn, Chris and I had one last hoorah before I  put them back on their plane north, bound for the USA taking with them memories and a large supply of dulce de leche. 

Ringing in The New Years With My Sister

It's been nearly 3 months now that my younger sister, Ali, visited me in BA. I think now is a good time to catch up on my blogging. Ali arrived on January 1st 2010, she was sweet enough to skip the new years altogether and spend 10 hours on a plane flying through 2009 and landing in Buenos Aires in 2010. Needless to say I was at the airport waiting for her, er, well sort of. You see, Argentina doesn't really believe in time changes or a national calender of fixed dates. So when Ali booked her ticket it said pickup was at 11:30 am which really meant 10:30 am which I didn't figure out until 9:55 am and saw the remaining time of the flight online said 10 minutes. I was a few minutes behind schedule and greeted Ali at EZE international airport. 

Funny thing about Argentina, on holidays, the city feels like a ghost town. People retreat to their summer homes in the suburbs and restaurants are closed for vacation. I welcomed Ali to my deserted city and we headed out scavenging for food. We ended up walking to this uber touristy area of Palermo called Plaza Serrano that is notorious for overpriced foods and drinks. Well we fell victim, due to the lack of options and ordered a pathetic version of nachos which really meant cheese sauce and a side of chips and a sandwich. I was so disappointed to introduce such a deserted city to my sister especially when I had been talking it up so much. The first night we were able to find a restaurant, a parilla of course, to introduce my vegetarian (ish) sister to meat. On our walk home she was spit on by some delinquients on a stoop and then we scampered home when we saw a laser pointed at our friends head. Obviously, it was not the best introduction to Buenos Aires.

Recoleta Cemetery

Horse backriding in Las Pampas

Her 11 days passed by quickly and we managed to thoroughly see all the sites like the Recoleta cemetery, see the museums and eat at great restaurants. Yet, the highlight of her stay was our one night we spent at an estancia or ranch out in Las Pampas to celebrate my friend Caroline's birthday. The estancia is called Inside Las Pampas and is owned by a wonderful British woman named, Totty, and her boyfriend Jaime. Everything is prepared fresh by Totty or the local gaucho's wife.  In the afternoon we sat around the grill awaiting our food and sipped mate, a traditional Argentine tea. In the evening we rode off on horseback into the cow fields, galloping at full speed to avoid being devoured by mosquitos.       Unfortunately Ali and Caroline were victimized by the mosquitos and had bites the size of dimes all over their bodies. 

Riding in Carmelo 

Another high point of her visit was making our way over to Carmelo, Uruguay. To get to Carmelo you need to take a ferry to Colonia, Uruguay. We took the Buquebus which is more like a small cruise ship than a ferry, complete with duty free shopping. After the one hour boat ride to Colonia we took a 1.5 bus ride to Carmelo, a place so beautiful it looks like a painting. In Carmelo I felt like everything is a little extra, the green leaves are extra green, the sky extra blue. It has such a tranquil feeling in the sleepy town and at the resort like development it felt like camp for adults. At our family friend's simple ranch style house you could look out the window and see her two horses, Frasier and Santana tied to trees outside. After lunch my sister, Amy (our family friend) and I set off horse back riding, darting through trees and stomping through the river. That night we kayaked out to a boat party with Amy's dauchsand, Tut, in tow and stopping periodically to ooh and awe over the stunning sunset.

Visitors are always the best. Especially after living a few months in the same place. An outsider lets you appreciate a place all over again and to see it through the eyes of a tourist. My sister's trip, despite starting out on the wrong foot, ended up being perfect. It was a perfect sister bonding  experience and an overall great vacation for both of us. 

More than Matzoh: Passover in BA

   I have very few Jewish friends at home and from college, but the second I stepped into Buenos Aires I have found that nearly every expat is a Jew. I started my first 5 weeks of living in Buenos Aires living in a Jewish neighborhood with an older Ashkanawshi woman and have gone on to discovering long lost relatives who came over from Germany during World War II. Anyways, my connection to Jewishness has grown since I've been here mostly due to proximity. It's been easy to rally people together to participate in all things Jewish. The Jews are proud to share their culture and holidays and the non-Jews are curious and eager to learn.  

    It's been a tradition to spend the day of Passover in the kitchen slicing and dicing the day away with my mother. This year I tackled my first seder for 12 people. With the help of my wonderfully talented gentile roommate we brought my mother's recipes to life and served a pretty outstanding dinner. Buenos Aires in one of the largest Jewish populations in the world, yet despite the Kosher McDonald's in the Abasto shopping center I had to go on a pretty extensive scavenger hunt to find traditional ingredients for the seder. We ended up buying cheap red wine to substitute for manchevitz and avoided gefilte fish altogether but were successful in finding matzoh and matzoh meal to make matzoh ball soup from scratch.

 After a great service led by my friend Hannah, we dug into homemade macaroons and tubs of Freddo ice cream. 

Although the best part was searching frantically through our tiny apartment tearing up nearly every room and crawl space to find the valuable piece of matzoh known as the afikoman.  

Every Party Has Its Pooper

    Argentines love their asados and often spend long afternoons and evenings gathered around the table awaiting a string of delicious food like chorizo, provaleta, salads and meat. As Americans living in Buenos Aires we too have come to appreciate the art form and beauty of the asado oftentimes trying to emulate their very cooking style and techniques. 

    Well the other night my American friend and old roommate, Steph, made a delicious asado rivaling some of the best Argentine one's I have had, on the terrace of our old house. For months now, day, night, with a small group of friends or large parties with blaring music, our neighbor, who lives in a high rise behind our building screams obsentities in spanish almost every time we walk outside. But this time he made it even worse and went one step further and called the police on us. About 40 minutes later the police arrived at his apartment and walked outside on his balcony to see the "disturbance" being made down below. We watched with glee as the police men chuckled at the old man and through gestures we were able to determine that the cops could do nothing about a casual dinner party before 2am. The man walked grudgingly back into his apartment, closing his blinds, turning off the lights and retreating into the darkness. However we would see the curtain move whenever we were being louder. It was almost as if I could hear him growling inside and feel his wrath on our backs, not a comforting feeling to have. 

Rio de Janeiro

So excited for cheesy meat

Mom is excited as well

The view of Rio from Sugar loaf 

Jesus Christ at Corcovado 

 Back in the days when I was a mere herbivore words like "steakhouse", "filet mignon", or "rare" did very little in tantalizing my taste buds. As we all know, that is not no longer the case. I eat meat -steak actually, on a regular basis. I even order it jugoso or rare. While I have become quite fond of Argentine parillas (traditional steakhouses) I was delighted to try meat served in a new way at a Brazilian steakhouse. 

    The first day in Rio I was greeted by fresh fruit juices served out of coconuts and healthy salads and sandwiches. The beaches were crowded with women sporting string bikinis and men, well, in shorts way too tiny for my liking. What I'm trying to say is that the beach was packed with beautiful fit people. However, during the night we saw a very different side of Rio, one could say a hungry side. We saw the all you can eat steakhouse side. Men whisked by your table carrying huge skewers of meat. Sometimes you would have to flag them down like hailing a cab by frantically waving a card that said "Yes, please I want more." Very rarely did I flip my card to the "No thanks" side. I mean how can anyone turn down meat covered with parmesan cheese or another favorite of mine, meat oozing with my beloved cheddar. But wait, there was still more food. The meat was just the beginning into this royal feast. At our table you only had to check a little box on a piece of paper indicating the type of sides you would like and magically yucca fries and fried plantains would appear on the table. I dug in ferociously. Nevertheless, the glutenous feast didn't end there. There was a huge buffet spread, decorated with fish, sushi and fresh salads. I ate till the point where I worried my dress would burst. And my mother, never before had I seen her so excited to eat meat nor had I seen her consume the amount she did. My little health nut mom was has been converted. Of course we had to wash down the whole meal with fresh traditional caparianhas, a drink made of cachaca (Brazilian rum), lots of and lime and sugar. 

    Besides the food and overeating, Brazil was remarkable. The city made me feel really calm but so much alive. It made me feel so many things actually, I felt like I was in a familiar place but I couldn't put my finger on what that place would be. It reminded me so much of Miami with the diverse population, industrious buildings across from a beautiful ocean. As well as the Caribbean and parts of Europe. It didn't feel the way I had imagined it to feel. Rio de Janeiro seemed so immense but yet quite manageable. I had expected more chaos, violence and fear in the air. Obviously I didn't go wandering the streets at night but I had built up such a negative idea of the city that I was shocked by the beauty, charm and warmth of the people. The disparity between rich and poor was also very striking. Big pristine buildings and hotels stood proudly across from the beach ushering tourists into the confines of the well patrolled walls while favelas were visible from every angle of the city. We went to the top of Sugar Loaf and saw the most incredible vistas of the city. Unfortunately the day we went to see Corcovado and the famous Jesus Christ statue the thick fog made visibility near impossible and we were only about to see bits of Jesus as the fog shifted. Ultimately the trip inspired me to take up learning Portuguese and go back to travel more extensively around Brazil. 

Check out this website

http://chrisguillebeau.com/3x5/28-things-i-wish-i-knew-before-i-started-traveling/

This website shows you how to be an entrepreneur, travel the world and avoid the typical cubical life style.

So what do you do?

My two jobs with Madi

Some wonderful Clients! 

     I've been in Buenos Aires for nearly 6 months and people have recently been asking me what exactly "I do". Well, I don't have a typical 9-5 job. I am lucky enough that I get to work several jobs. My schedule is always changing, every week is different. Some days I work all of my jobs while some days I work from home. Here is a little preview of my life.  I teach English at least 6 hours a week one on one to students. I work in a clothing store at least one day a week all while working for BA Cultural Concierge and Send Love BA (more on that later) and volunteering in marketing for Teatro Ciego. I get to meet a ton of people everyday and am able to see so many sides of Buenos Aires like learning how to sell clothing in Spanish or exploring different restaurants in the name of "work research".

    I am working for an American entrepreneur named Madi Lang who has been living in Buenos Aires for nearly 3 years. BACC is her brain child, she spotted a need for a customized concierge service where attention is 100% devoted to the client and she turned this opportunity into a business. Through hard work, word of mouth marketing and terrific online reviews her business has taken off. 

    For BA Cultural Concierge I get to plan vacations and then help others live them. I have been so blessed to find a job I love in Buenos Aires. I enjoy the time I spend teaching and working in the clothing store but my most fulfilling job is working for Madi with BA Cultural Concierge and Send Love BA. I find working beside a young entrepreneur inspiring and rewarding, I get to see my efforts and energy make an impact in her company and I get to face new and exciting challenges everyday. 

    I met Madi back in November at a dinner with my friend and roommate Caroline. They had attended the same university and were in the same sorority but 3 years apart. At dinner Madi told me a brief description about what she does and projects she was working. From the get go, we hit it off and I offered, without hesitation, to be her intern and help her in anyway possible as long as I could learn from her. 

    Last month I got to plan my first itinerary for a low mobility man in his 80's and his younger son. Not only did I plan their trip but had the great luck to accompany them on nearly everything they did. We went to estancias (ranches), brunched at the Four Seasons and Alvear Hotel, saw tango shows and went on a tour of the city. Sometimes it takes seeing Buenos Aires through the eyes of a visitor to truly appreciate the spirit of this incredible city. 

    Send Love BA is Madi's newest company. It's a carepackage delivery company that delivers customized carepackages to expats and study abroad students living in Buenos Aires. The company circumvents the horrendous Argentine postal system to deliver a product that can't be sent from home but contains all the comfort foods from home. After being away from peanut butter, marshmallows, home made chocolate chip cookies for a long period of time expats tend to crave foods we often take for granted. I work at developing marketing to grow the business as well as work as a delivery girl. The best is seeing the excitement on peoples faces when I hand deliver fresh baked cookies, bagels, peanut butter and balloons, it makes all the detailed planning worthwhile. My favorite delivery was seeing a grown man overcome with joy and happiness after I delivered two jars of Skippy's peanut butter and fresh made bagels. The hardest part is self control on the way to delivery. You always hope that special person you are delivering a chocolate cake to someone that likes to share. 

Iguazu Falls

Barry patiently waiting his turn in line

Mom waiting in line to find out about our luggage 

Our view from the hotel. The sunset over the falls. 

La Garganta del diablo 

The Majestic Falls 

 I just came to the  end of a great two week vacation with my Mom and Step-dad Barry. We traveled to Carmelo, Uruguay, Buenos Aires, Iguazu Falls, and Rio de Janeiro. In the duration of their two week stay everything went pretty smoothly except some unfortunate bumps in the road like $120 pesos worth of fake pesos and lost luggage. I'll start from the beginning. 

    We arrive without delay to Iguazu's tiny airport after leaving Buenos Aires behind in the rain. The three of us wait patiently for our suitcases on the slow moving carousel jam packed with people boxing out others to get their bags. Nearly twenty minutes go by and there is no sign of our bags and the carousel has come to a complete standstill. We walk over to a group of people gathered around a worried looking airline representative. He makes an announcement in Spanish, "If you don't have your bags, I am afraid they are still in Buenos Aires." Ughh. There is only one flight a day that comes to Iguazu and we were on it, apparently our bags weren't. This is the point where I check in with the parents, apologetically almost I explain how Argentina is "special" and kind of beats to it's own drum, things like this happen all the time. Barry, my step dad, starts huffing "I bet you the bag workers didn't want to load the bags because it was raining so hard. They didn't want to get wet." He had a point. It was raining, storming actually. Thunder, lightening the whole kit and kaboodle but our plane took off, I'm not so sure it have would in the States. At this point my family is spread out between three lines, uncertain which one will be first to get to the front. Eventually after 45 minutes in line and 3 people working where there is counter space for 6 we make it to the front. We ask the airline rep in Spanish, "when will our luggage arrive?" In calm, crisp English he tells us "4 AM." I look around and check my parents faces for reactions, they still look pretty collected. In Spanish I try to get more information, "4 AM? You don't have any other flights?" Again the game continues and in English replies, "the plane with your luggage is flying into Posadas a 5 hour drive from here. It will get here around 4 AM." Ok. "Do we get compensation?" He finally begins to look flustered, "100 pesos a person but you need to pick it up in Buenos Aires." Seriously??? Who are these people? Now Barry, the expert traveler and ex-actor steps up to the plate. "I have pills in my bag. Pills that if I don't take I might die, and you don't want that to happen now, do you?" He holds eye contact. A small trickle falls down the rep's forehead. "Um, no sir we don't." "No you don't want that blood of my untimely death on your hands." I give Barry a look, enough the rep looks like he might go into cardiac arrest. "So what are you going to do about it my good man?" Barry asks again. The rep pauses for a second and scribbles something on our lost luggage form "Medical Emergency" it read, "Priority" and shows it to us. "Your luggage will be the first to arrive." With that good news and the fate of our luggage out of our hands we head to the Sheraton inside the Iguazu National Park overlooking the waterfalls. We sit outside enjoy a strong cocktail and gawk at the beauty of the sunset casting it's lights on the falls. At 4:05 AM the door bell rings, it is our luggage. 100% soaked and smelling like a pack of wet dogs. 

    Despite our moldy clothes, we had a wonderful time at Iguazu falls. The falls themselves were immense and powerful. La garganta del diablo (the devil's throat), a lookout point at the top of the fall shows their strength. We even went on a jungle adventure boat that cruises right beneath the beating of the falls. I don't know what is more intense, the sound of the pounding water or the feel of it on your skin. We have had a photograph of Iguazu hanging in our living room for years so seeing it in person was magical, it gave so much more meaning to the falls that we knew existed somewhere in Argentina, it gave the picture a story and memories. 

Losing Sight

  When I first arrived in Buenos Aires I was invited to a performance called A Ciegas con Luz  at "Teatro ciego" which means "The Blind theater". It is a dinner and performance that is done in complete and total darkness. Entering the room, you follow a waiter by putting your hands on his shoulders as three people trail behind (kind of like doing the locomotive at weddings). You are seated at a table of four in a pitch black room. The waiter, who is blind, instructs you where you can find your wine glass, dessert, and dinner in front of you. Eating in the dark was a really unique experience, especially not knowing what you were eating. While eating the food our very skilled waiter served refreshments both red and white wine options. Then there was a lovely woman singer named Luz who sang songs from all over the world as a blind pianist accompanied her. At the end of the performance she lit a candle and the room was illuminated in an eerie way, the room illuminated felt very different from how I had imagined it in the darkness. 

    Last week I took my parents to Teatro Ciego, worried that they would be overwhelmed or uncomfortable in the complete darkness. But alas they surprised me and adjusted to the drastic lack of sight quite quickly. We went to the same show  A Ciegos con Luz which has been modified since the last time I was there. There were many added smells like rain, coffee, grass as well as sensations like being misted by rain water and sound affects to help imagine the performance in your mind. You had to use your imagination, but all my other senses were heightened in a way I wasn't used to and the full body experience was delightful. The menu had also recently changed, again serving finger-licking good finger foods as well as an edible bread basket. On top of everything, the manager, Martin, and his girlfriend and star of the show, Luz, couldn't be kinder people who speak very good English and are very accommodating to English tourists. I highly recommend anyone who visits Buenos Aires to take the time to visit Teatro Ciego, the only theater in the world of its kind. teatrociego.org

I'm on a boat

My roommates and I were invited to a birthday party on a boat, a booze cruise if you will. Well my mind had conjured up different images of where we were going, a large boat perhaps, maybe some outdoor space to get some nice fresh air? Well the boat was like a ferry boat with the inside chairs taken out and replaced with strobe lights and disco balls straight from a cheesy night club. At 1:30am we got to the dock to get on the ferry, er, boat and headed up the river. Entering the boat we were all initially panicked about being trapped below deck till 5 in the morning because they wouldn't let us on the top deck while moving. We also asked our friend if it was an open bar because we paid a hefty 50 pesos to get on. "Of course it's an open bar. Why wouldn't it be?" He told us before we agreed to this party. When we asked him again as the boat starting sailing out to sea he said that the bar was open over there and pointed in the direction of the bar. He was confused why a bar wouldn't be open at a party. Thus another cultural misunderstanding. We ended up enjoying ourselves and the game of trying to stand up as the boat rocked turbulently beneath us. But I think we were all pleased when the boat docked and we could head home. 

Polo

Polo is the most posh sport around. Not only are the players deceivingly good looking they look like they walked straight out of a Ralph Lauren catalog, with shaggy naturally highlighted hair and bronzed skin and often times bright blue eyes polo matches are also fun to watch. I like admiring the strong horses and the swiftness and control in which the players handle them. But more than anything I like going to watch the people. The extremely elegant, put together people that I only thought existed in the movies.

These are the people that television shows about high society people are based off of. A friend of mine was telling me that each polo player owns at least 25 horses and that each horse costs roughly half a million dollars, sans sponsorship. So basically polo is a sport that the elite can play because they love it and are willing to fork out the dough to compete FOR FUN.

A Big Fat Argentine Wedding

The last wedding I went to was nearly 10 years ago when my mom and step-dad walked down the “aisle” in our back yard. Luckily in my awkward glory there was no dancing or young people mingling for that matter, just a simple, lovely dinner in my living room. Everyone has been telling me about how fun weddings are but I am still at that age where my friends haven’t yet decided to take the leap into wedded matrimony. Well this past weekend I went to my first “grown up” Argentine wedding. Actually, I didn’t go to the wedding or the dinner, in fact I didn’t even show up until 2AM for the “celebration”. You see in an Argentine wedding there are many parts. First there is the civil ceremony where the couple gets married in the court and there is a small ceremony attended by friends and family followed by a fiesta, of course. Then the following weekend or a few weeks later is the big deal wedding. The wedding starts in the church at 8 pm followed by a dinner which starts at around 11ish and then the festivities that last until daylight. Here they don’t have bridesmaids and groomsmen nor do they spend thousands on an engagement ring (very high chance it would be cut off your finger by a thief).

My Argentine friend invited me to his good friends’ wedding (the third part). I showed up at 2am, just as dinner was being finished. I guess what happens is that different friends are invited to different parts due to cost so at around 2am tons of young people came rolling into the banquet hall. Initially it was very reminiscent of a middle school dance, boys were on one side and girls on the other. I spent a good part of the night dancing with my friend’s girlfriends as the guys put the married couple on their shoulders and tossed them like bean bags into the air. At around 3:30am the music quieted down and the lights came on so the newlyweds could cut their cake. Then we all moved into another room outside lined with tables filled with every variety of cake and dessert imaginable, I call it heaven. Nearly everything had some form of dulce de leche…yumm. Then the music resumed and the party continued only to be interrupted again at around 4am to hand out colorful hats, Jack Sparrow hats (hair and all) along with other pirate garb, glow in the dark bracelets, and goofy costumes similar to those provided at Bar Mitzvahs. My favorite memory of the night was seeing the bride’s parents sitting atop someone’s shoulders with the father wearing a white beard and a king's crown and her mother decked out with huge carnival beads. I could never ever ever imagine my parents staying up and partying that late. So alas, at 6:30 am we bid everyone goodbye and I mean everyone. We went around to practically every person at the party and kissed them goodbye…such good manners. And that was my first real wedding, kinda.

Oktoberfest

I had always wanted to go to Oktoberfest but due to some poor planning and limited monetary funds I never made it there during my study abroad in Madrid. So when my friends Ilana and Allie proposed we go to Oktoberfest in Argentina I hopped on the bus (literally). We left for Oktoberfest at 11pm Thursday night taking a very comfortable sleeper bus. If only planes were as spacious as these buses. We woke up the next morning in Cordoba, the second biggest city in Argentina to the northwest of Buenos Aires. We spent the day exploring the city which is very easy to explore on foot. We stayed at a hostel that served the BEST asado (BBQ) ever.

On Saturday we left Cordoba for a village called Village General Belgrano was an extrordinary festival called Oktoberfest. For a week people came from all over Argentina to celebrate their love for beer and German culture of course. Had I not know I was in Argentina I would have sworn that I was in a tiny village in Germany with men running around in leiderhosen (sp?) and women dressed as bar maids. The actual celebration was on a few acres of land that seemed oddly reminiscent of college day drinking. We arrived at the festival at 11 AM and started sampling the wide range of beers, everything from honey beer to Duff's from the Simpsons, as well as taking in the exceptionally warm weather and folk dancers. It wasn't until we came back later that things got rowdy. The Argentine men are notorious for being pushy but when filled with alcohol they just become persistent. My friends and I would be rudely interrupted by Argentine men asking us "de donde sos?" or where we were from. For what seemed like hours we were answering the same questions of where we were from, what we do, etc. It got to the point where I started lying about what I do and where I am from just to try and ease the boredom. Overall Oktoberfest was a fun experience, a fun experience that I could only handle for one day not an entire weekend. That night we stayed at our friend's cabana they had rented and the five of us girls slept like little puppies in a row. The next day we snuck out of the packed house at 7 and walked down a beautiful dirt road surrounded by horses and watched the sunrise. As we walked down the road in our sun dresses and dirt everywhere we laughed about our adventures and got on the bus to take us back to civilization.

Subway Shopping

Tape measures, hair elastics, markers, 80’s mix CDs, stickers, comic books, freshly baked pastries, and scissors are only a few of the items paraded for sale on the “subway aisle.” In my daily 20 minute commute to school, I see people hawking everything and anything. Unlike other countries I’ve been to where people carry their passed out baby franticly up and down the aisles and wail “Por favor” (it still does exist here) people have taken to selling the most novel of items. I haven’t bought anything yet, in spite of the sweet sounds from the 80’s mix. (I still am fearful of someone grabbing my wallet and taking off.) However, I always find my commute very entertaining. On the other hand, I haven’t seen too much crime other than this one day where I sat next to a guy who was putting on his mp3 player when someone reached his hand into the window and tried to yank it out of the unsuspecting subte passenger's hand! Fortunately, at that moment the subte left the platform and the thief was left empty handed.

Land Mines

It has always been a running joke of my sister's that New Yorkers are always looking down at the ground because the sidewalk sparkles with what looks like millions of brilliant diamonds. Thus, these people become so mesmerized by the floor they forget to look up. Well, in Buenos Aires, people look down for another reason, a not so pretty reason. The roads here are covered in crap, literally. I love the irony of how America is the land where the roads are paved in gold but really quite the opposite is true for Argentina. Walking anywhere in those expansive city you have to be prepared to hop, skip, and jump at any moment. Unlike the United States there isn’t a law to clean up after one’s pet and in a city it can, well, get a little messy. The real culprits are the adorable older women walking their miniature pups, bundled up in cute sweaters and bejeweled with fancy collars. But despite the cuteness of both the women and the dogs, the dogs do their business anywhere. I’ve seen some pop a squat in the middle of the road at the cross sections. These little woman acknowledge that their dog has done what they have come to do, step over the mound and continue on, leaving some unsuspecting tourist to place their Tevas in the heap. It frustrates me so much to see this happening, because these little piles makes it difficult for runners to navigate the streets without constantly glancing down. Furthermore, I find it infuriating because it makes the city appear dirtier than it actually is. It takes all my energy to not berate these street polluters about their evil ways. Instead I smile sweetly at them, look down, and watch where I’m going.