I had been planning on trying to make empanadas for a long time now. Trying to cook new foods is always fun for me. After much search for a manageable recipe, I finally came across one that was not only in English, but written by a woman who married an Argentine and is now living in Mendoza (wine country) of all places. Her name is Rebecca and she is the author of the blog From Argentina With Love. She talks hits every major topic about living in Argentina from the perspective of an American exquisitely. However, my favorite section is her recipe section.
As I followed her recipe there was only one down side. Yes, when she uses pounds, cups and Fahrenheit as forms of measurement, it makes my life easier, but I'm in Argentina. My oven measures Celsius. Oh, wait. Never mind. my oven doesn't measure anything. It is just a knob marked by the words horno, min and max. No degrees. Just guesstimations. And if I was not in enough danger with this, it is a gas oven to. As in I have to light it. Uhhhhhhhhhhh.....................
I was clueless. I had managed to overcome the measurement obstacles and figure out half a kilo was close enough to one pound to make the recipe ok. On top of that, I had found a youtube video to educate me on properly folding the empanada dough. Celsius was probably another challenge I could have figured out too, but lighting a gas oven sounded dangerous for someone to do without any direction.
Sadly, my roommate was out and unable to help me. Lucky for me though I have Nick. Nick is my coordinator for my program. He mostly deals with students once they arrive in BA. He oordinates events (hence his title as 'coordinator') for us weekly, answers our questions about the city, helps us make weekend travel plans and hosts mate and medialunas every Friday. I have been planning on going to mate and medialunas so I took it upon myself to run there and have him inform me on how to light a gas oven.
Of course when I got home there was Sole to give me more specific directions for our particular oven (a precaution I found necessary), but I really wasn't hungry so I didn't make them. They went in the freezer. I went to Uruguay, and baking process was put off five days.
Finally on Wednesday I had to chance to try and light the oven myself and finish the empanadas. Luckily, I succeeded in both. I even got compliments from my roommates. Ok, the were kind of ugly. They had been frozen and I could not locate any non-stick spray for the pan, but all that matters is the taste right?
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Friday, June 24, 2011
Dangerous Activites
It doesn't matter where you are in the world. Every country has a national sport to obsess over. The United States has football, Finland has hockey and here in Argentina they have soccer. Seeing as I lack the desire, interest and attention span to enjoy and sporting event, I have yet to go to any soccer game here. However, I still find it rather interesting how obsessive people are over sports.
Today the United States Embassy set out an alert to all American citizens traveling and living in the Buenos Aires area to stay away from an Extraordinary Soccer Match. Yes, people. Apparently if I were to go to this match or anywhere near the stadium my life could be threatened do to potentially hostile fans. This match is going to help determine whether a certain soccer team (don't remember the name of said team) is going to stay on the 'A-List' or be demoted to the 'B-List.' Think of it as one game determining whether the Braves stay a pro-baseball team or are demoted to the minor leagues.
Outrage. Shear outrage. No worries, friends. I will not be hit on the back of the head with a glass bottle today. No soccer matches for me.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Today the United States Embassy set out an alert to all American citizens traveling and living in the Buenos Aires area to stay away from an Extraordinary Soccer Match. Yes, people. Apparently if I were to go to this match or anywhere near the stadium my life could be threatened do to potentially hostile fans. This match is going to help determine whether a certain soccer team (don't remember the name of said team) is going to stay on the 'A-List' or be demoted to the 'B-List.' Think of it as one game determining whether the Braves stay a pro-baseball team or are demoted to the minor leagues.
Outrage. Shear outrage. No worries, friends. I will not be hit on the back of the head with a glass bottle today. No soccer matches for me.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Well, It's Not the Ritz, But it Will Do
Americans do not use hostels. They don't. I just found out a few weeks ago that there are even a handful in the US when I looked them up on Hostel World. We have hotels for every price range, but I promise you less that one out of every 1,000 people utilize the hostels in America. I was shocked to find out we had any honestly.
For me, traveling has been a bit different even from the hotel world. In my family we timeshare. If we were planning a trip together, we were staying in a condo. The more rooms the better. If not we yell at each other for having the TV on too late or someone (dad) is snoring and no one else sleeps. Vacations were just nicer in a condo. Plus, I always liked the jacuzzi bathtubs. You had best believe that is my favorite nightly ritual on vacation.
If we didn't stay in a timeshare, it was always a top quality hotel. For example, staying on the grounds at the Biltmore Estates was quite the experience. I felt like a princess and I ate like one too. When I travel with my nona there is a rule that the hotel my be five stars, room service will be utilized daily and a private tour of the city in a limo stocked with champagne are all musts.
Needless to say, I travel extravagantly and thus far I have avoided ever staying at a hostel. This is quite amazing seeing as I have had my passport(s) stamped in six different countries and my total time abroad adds up to over half a year (come August). Yet, some how I never stayed in a hostel until just over two weeks ago. It had to happen eventually I guess. Since then I have stayed at three and they couldn't have been more different.
The first one I stayed at was Hostel Suites Mendoza. It was very hotelesque. My room only housed three people. Private bathrooms in every room. Ok. The bathroom sucked. It was about 1.5 squared yards in spaced total. This included the toilet, sink and shower. I felt extremely obese showering because I could not move without bumping into something. Plus the rinky dink shower curtain did not keep the water from going everywhere. One girl there with me (a big group from Road went together) described the experience as being able to use the toilet while showering at the same time. This is no exaggeration.
I actually really liked this one though. The hot water functioned better there than at my apartment so I was thrilled. The people working there knew about things to do in the city. Good internet access. Neat people staying there (we met a guy from France that has been traveling for seven years. SEVEN YEARS).
Now, the next place I stayed at was not good at all. It was in Colonia and I probably would have liked it better had the weather been better. To best describe the place, I would have to say there were two courtyards, one was covered and surrounded by the common area, kitchen, office and one dormitory, all of which had a door closing them off. Then, there was an open area that connected the two courtyards. No door. The second one was surrounded by two levels of dormitories and three bathrooms. In my opinion it was very traditional South American home. Where I live is much nicer, but this hostel was the way the majority of South American homes actually are.
Now, like I have mentioned. The weather was BAD. Thunder. Lightning. Flooding. All in the covered courtyard while we were trying to eat. Did I mention it was a tin roof? I got scared and ran in the common area. Being flooded on is not pleasant. The various leaks in the common area was much more bearable. Later on while showering during a break in the storm, I came across the bathroom experience. They came fully equipped with a squeegee and in typical South American fashion, turning the water heater on first was a necessity. The water heater was directly above the bathtub. so was the plug for said heater. I guess it was safe though seeing at he shower head could only go straight down, not arch out. The water went no where near the heater. Sadly though the water only stayed warm for a few minutes and just got increasingly colder with no safe way to fix it. To do so would require adjusting the water heater. You can't do that wet...
Then name of this place was El Español Hostel. If you go during the summer when a cold shower is enjoyable and there isn't rain, this would actually be an alright place to stay. Unfortunately, this was not a part of my experience. All I could think about was that my nona would not approve of my living conditions that night.
My all time favorite hostel was the last one. No question. It was Boulevard Sarandí Hostel. Located in la Ciudad Vieja which is probably the most charming part of the city. it was an only 1800s house that had been renovated. Think cool NYC loft with the exposed brick, high ceilings, neat colors, great balconies and antiques scattered around. Heaven, right?
The staff was PHENOMENAL. Beyond friendly. When the work was done or there was a break, they always pulled up a chair to talk. Most places, the staff is just there for the work and leave. No strong personal bonds. This was not the case at BSH. Both nights I was there one of the staff offered to show us a bit of the night life. I accepted the second night. A Monday night in the winter in Montevideo is not the most happenin night. Really wasn´t a shock there, but every once in a while it is nice to have someone force you out of your pajamas and make you go out. That in and of itself made it all worth while. Oh, and did I mention great showers, comfy beds, fully stocked kitchen and warm dorm rooms? I would have stayed if I could. Well, actually I could have. My internship did not start Wednesday like I thought, but I didn't know that until I was an hour from BA. Oh, well.
Even right now as I write this I would LOVE to write a good review for BSH on Hostel World. Sadly, either I'm dumb or they won't let you unless you have booked that hostel through their website. If I am just dumb though, someone please tell me so I can up their rating. 84% is unjust considering how amazing they are.
So now, I leave you all. Maybe you will have a better understanding of the hostel operations. Yes, you really can just show up and a bed will be provided for you if available. Usually, yes. Accommodations are not always ideal, but they aren't scary like the movie Hostel would lead you to believe.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
For me, traveling has been a bit different even from the hotel world. In my family we timeshare. If we were planning a trip together, we were staying in a condo. The more rooms the better. If not we yell at each other for having the TV on too late or someone (dad) is snoring and no one else sleeps. Vacations were just nicer in a condo. Plus, I always liked the jacuzzi bathtubs. You had best believe that is my favorite nightly ritual on vacation.
If we didn't stay in a timeshare, it was always a top quality hotel. For example, staying on the grounds at the Biltmore Estates was quite the experience. I felt like a princess and I ate like one too. When I travel with my nona there is a rule that the hotel my be five stars, room service will be utilized daily and a private tour of the city in a limo stocked with champagne are all musts.
Needless to say, I travel extravagantly and thus far I have avoided ever staying at a hostel. This is quite amazing seeing as I have had my passport(s) stamped in six different countries and my total time abroad adds up to over half a year (come August). Yet, some how I never stayed in a hostel until just over two weeks ago. It had to happen eventually I guess. Since then I have stayed at three and they couldn't have been more different.
The first one I stayed at was Hostel Suites Mendoza. It was very hotelesque. My room only housed three people. Private bathrooms in every room. Ok. The bathroom sucked. It was about 1.5 squared yards in spaced total. This included the toilet, sink and shower. I felt extremely obese showering because I could not move without bumping into something. Plus the rinky dink shower curtain did not keep the water from going everywhere. One girl there with me (a big group from Road went together) described the experience as being able to use the toilet while showering at the same time. This is no exaggeration.
I actually really liked this one though. The hot water functioned better there than at my apartment so I was thrilled. The people working there knew about things to do in the city. Good internet access. Neat people staying there (we met a guy from France that has been traveling for seven years. SEVEN YEARS).
Now, the next place I stayed at was not good at all. It was in Colonia and I probably would have liked it better had the weather been better. To best describe the place, I would have to say there were two courtyards, one was covered and surrounded by the common area, kitchen, office and one dormitory, all of which had a door closing them off. Then, there was an open area that connected the two courtyards. No door. The second one was surrounded by two levels of dormitories and three bathrooms. In my opinion it was very traditional South American home. Where I live is much nicer, but this hostel was the way the majority of South American homes actually are.
Now, like I have mentioned. The weather was BAD. Thunder. Lightning. Flooding. All in the covered courtyard while we were trying to eat. Did I mention it was a tin roof? I got scared and ran in the common area. Being flooded on is not pleasant. The various leaks in the common area was much more bearable. Later on while showering during a break in the storm, I came across the bathroom experience. They came fully equipped with a squeegee and in typical South American fashion, turning the water heater on first was a necessity. The water heater was directly above the bathtub. so was the plug for said heater. I guess it was safe though seeing at he shower head could only go straight down, not arch out. The water went no where near the heater. Sadly though the water only stayed warm for a few minutes and just got increasingly colder with no safe way to fix it. To do so would require adjusting the water heater. You can't do that wet...
Then name of this place was El Español Hostel. If you go during the summer when a cold shower is enjoyable and there isn't rain, this would actually be an alright place to stay. Unfortunately, this was not a part of my experience. All I could think about was that my nona would not approve of my living conditions that night.
My all time favorite hostel was the last one. No question. It was Boulevard Sarandí Hostel. Located in la Ciudad Vieja which is probably the most charming part of the city. it was an only 1800s house that had been renovated. Think cool NYC loft with the exposed brick, high ceilings, neat colors, great balconies and antiques scattered around. Heaven, right?
The staff was PHENOMENAL. Beyond friendly. When the work was done or there was a break, they always pulled up a chair to talk. Most places, the staff is just there for the work and leave. No strong personal bonds. This was not the case at BSH. Both nights I was there one of the staff offered to show us a bit of the night life. I accepted the second night. A Monday night in the winter in Montevideo is not the most happenin night. Really wasn´t a shock there, but every once in a while it is nice to have someone force you out of your pajamas and make you go out. That in and of itself made it all worth while. Oh, and did I mention great showers, comfy beds, fully stocked kitchen and warm dorm rooms? I would have stayed if I could. Well, actually I could have. My internship did not start Wednesday like I thought, but I didn't know that until I was an hour from BA. Oh, well.
Even right now as I write this I would LOVE to write a good review for BSH on Hostel World. Sadly, either I'm dumb or they won't let you unless you have booked that hostel through their website. If I am just dumb though, someone please tell me so I can up their rating. 84% is unjust considering how amazing they are.
So now, I leave you all. Maybe you will have a better understanding of the hostel operations. Yes, you really can just show up and a bed will be provided for you if available. Usually, yes. Accommodations are not always ideal, but they aren't scary like the movie Hostel would lead you to believe.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Enchantment is Only a Ferry Ride Away
Uruguay. Not very many people are dying to go there. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if most travelers only go there because it is only an hour away from Buenos Aires and a very easy country to enter. Regardless of one's reasoning behind going there, I think Uruguay has a certain character that captivated me. I would love to go back. Honestly, I think I was the only one on my four person trip that felt this way. Apparently they like how much bigger Buenos Aires is over Uruguay, but for me that is exactly what I preferred about Uruguay. Big cities are just not something I can handle.
Alright. I have to admit Sacramento de Colonia was a bit too small. It is not a joke when people say that you can see everything in a day. I am even willing to put money on the idea that it could take less than that. All that aside the most important thing is that Colonia is a place you CANNOT miss. Enchanting. Romantic. Stunning. This are just a few words that encompass Colonia. Cobblestone, rocky coast lines and beautiful gardens surround the center of town. It is captivating. They can also boast having the nicest people (well, person) I have ever met. When a local asked me in English where I was from, it wasn't so he could practice. It was so he could tell me "Welcome to Colonia." I almost cried from gratitude. This place was incredible. I recommend it as a MUST for anyone traveling South America, but to be fair, I don't know if I could live there. After a whopping six hours, you run out of things to do. However, this is not the case in Montevideo.
I could not help but love Montevideo. The old architecture that people travel all the way to Europe for is just as prevalent there (and in BA too for that manner). Huge statues, cute parks and plazas. Adorable beyond belief. The best part is, it's smaller than BA. It has the big city feel (which it is, over half of the three million people living in Uruguay live in Montevideo) with fewer people. It felt more relaxing. More calm. No need to wake up early in the morning. A lot of (tourist) things did not open until after noon.
Because it was smaller too, it felt like it would be a lot easier to meet people. I could probably go to a different bar every night in Buenos Aires, Montevideo has a smaller selection. I'm a fan of this. It absorbs you into the culture. You cannot avoid it like you can here.
I think Montevideo would be a great place to do study abroad. You still get the obnoxious castellano instead of español, a lot of similar culture too, but the calmness that I am used to with living in Mobile can be found here. Horns are not honking 24/7 here. Silence can be found in the middle of the night. If I had to pick between the two for a place to stay for a long time, it would definitely be Montevideo. Living and working I'm not so sure about. I talked to one of the guys working at my hostel (same one who shared the Sweet Home Buenos Aires video with me) and minimum wage there is based on monthly salary, not hours, at $300 USD per month. Nothing. And Montevideo is more expensive than Buenos Aires. No joke. Ok, from my American POV it still wasn't too bad, but I just find that sad. I did the math and that is the same an American would make working full time on minimum wage.
All in all I took a lot of time to chill there too. Sometimes being lazy is just as nice as seeing everything. Plus, it was kind of cold and rainy. Very rainy. Almost depressingly so, but sometimes you just have to take what you are given. It was a holiday weekend. Flag Day. Had to take advantage of the long weekend.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Alright. I have to admit Sacramento de Colonia was a bit too small. It is not a joke when people say that you can see everything in a day. I am even willing to put money on the idea that it could take less than that. All that aside the most important thing is that Colonia is a place you CANNOT miss. Enchanting. Romantic. Stunning. This are just a few words that encompass Colonia. Cobblestone, rocky coast lines and beautiful gardens surround the center of town. It is captivating. They can also boast having the nicest people (well, person) I have ever met. When a local asked me in English where I was from, it wasn't so he could practice. It was so he could tell me "Welcome to Colonia." I almost cried from gratitude. This place was incredible. I recommend it as a MUST for anyone traveling South America, but to be fair, I don't know if I could live there. After a whopping six hours, you run out of things to do. However, this is not the case in Montevideo.
I could not help but love Montevideo. The old architecture that people travel all the way to Europe for is just as prevalent there (and in BA too for that manner). Huge statues, cute parks and plazas. Adorable beyond belief. The best part is, it's smaller than BA. It has the big city feel (which it is, over half of the three million people living in Uruguay live in Montevideo) with fewer people. It felt more relaxing. More calm. No need to wake up early in the morning. A lot of (tourist) things did not open until after noon.
Because it was smaller too, it felt like it would be a lot easier to meet people. I could probably go to a different bar every night in Buenos Aires, Montevideo has a smaller selection. I'm a fan of this. It absorbs you into the culture. You cannot avoid it like you can here.
I think Montevideo would be a great place to do study abroad. You still get the obnoxious castellano instead of español, a lot of similar culture too, but the calmness that I am used to with living in Mobile can be found here. Horns are not honking 24/7 here. Silence can be found in the middle of the night. If I had to pick between the two for a place to stay for a long time, it would definitely be Montevideo. Living and working I'm not so sure about. I talked to one of the guys working at my hostel (same one who shared the Sweet Home Buenos Aires video with me) and minimum wage there is based on monthly salary, not hours, at $300 USD per month. Nothing. And Montevideo is more expensive than Buenos Aires. No joke. Ok, from my American POV it still wasn't too bad, but I just find that sad. I did the math and that is the same an American would make working full time on minimum wage.
All in all I took a lot of time to chill there too. Sometimes being lazy is just as nice as seeing everything. Plus, it was kind of cold and rainy. Very rainy. Almost depressingly so, but sometimes you just have to take what you are given. It was a holiday weekend. Flag Day. Had to take advantage of the long weekend.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Home
After my weekend trip to Uruguay I realized something on the way home. Buenos Aires was starting to feel like home. I was so ready to go back to my teeny tiny room on the third floor of 3252 Mansilla. All my stuff is here. It is the place I go to relax and escape. It's also where I keep my personal stash of food and is located in the part of the city I know the best. Ok. My father isn't here. My brother isn't here. Neither of my nonas are here or my countless other amazing friends and family. For the time being however, home is defined as the place where all my stuff is, and that is ok by me.
I leave you now with the amazing artistic abilities of Charly Garcia singing a knock-off of 'Sweet Home Alabama' and a guaranteed promise that tomorrow I will share my insights about Uruguay and my time there.
Due to operator errors, incapabilities and pure exhaustion here is a link to Sweet Home Buenos Aires. I highly recommend you watch.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
I leave you now with the amazing artistic abilities of Charly Garcia singing a knock-off of 'Sweet Home Alabama' and a guaranteed promise that tomorrow I will share my insights about Uruguay and my time there.
Due to operator errors, incapabilities and pure exhaustion here is a link to Sweet Home Buenos Aires. I highly recommend you watch.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Standing Still
Crossing boarders is a lot quiciker in some countries than others. This weekend is a holiday weekend in Buenos Aires. Flag Day is Monday. In honor of the long weekend me and three friends decided to go to Uruguay for the weekend. It is literally a 1-3 hour ferry ride across the river. After check-in the man told us to go upstairs to immigration. We waited in a pretty quick line. Then, it was my turn. As I showed up passport in hand and customs form completed I walked up to the counter. I was greeted my a nice porteña who told me to sign my form (oops) then stamped me out of Argentina. I was in international territory. There was a man next to her who was not taking guests of his own. I had no idea why until she handed him my papers. Upon closer inspection of the window in front of me I saw the first woman had and Argentine flag infront of her, and he had a Uruguayan flag in front of him. During that brief moment of discovery, the man stamped my passport into Uruguay. I had gone from being in Argentina to being in international territory to being in Uruguay without even moving a muscle. Isn´t life spectacular?
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Friday, June 17, 2011
El Vino Argentino
Exactly 10 days before I left for Argentina I was blessed with my 21st birthday. Within a few years the luxury of being able to purchase alcohol in the United States will wear off, but for now it's nice. In honor of being able to purchase alcohol back home, I decided to partake in wine courses here in Argentina. I mean, now that they can finally be applicable to my daily life, I found it to be a necessity.
In my my classes I was able to learn about (1) what foods to pair the different types of wine with, (2) practiced detecting different scents in the wine, (3) examined the color of the wine, (4) detecting different levels of alcohol in wine by sight and (5) the wine making process. We will now transition to a place will I will further elaborate on my new intelligence or lack thereof.
(1) Food pairings
Tinto: red meat, cheese, pasta with a red sauce, red meat and cheese
Blanco: desserts, cheese, white meat, cheese
Pumante: Everything (personal opinion)
During my time in this class we were served various tapas. My favorite was the cheese. Every time you eat the cheese with a different kind of wine, the flavor changes. It is quite amazing and always fun to try and predict what the impending flavor is going to be.
(2) Scents
Tinto: still clueless
Blanco: granny smith apples
Pumante: yuuuuuuuuuuummy
This was by far the hardest thing to decipher. I really could only make up my mind with the white wines about what it reminded me of. They tend to be fruitier and I know the scents of fruits a lot better than spices.
(3) Color
Always examine the wine at a 45 degree angle over a white piece of paper. I always got confused after this part. When you look at the wine the color in the white wine is in the outside and the reflections are in the middle. With red wine the color is in the middle and the reflections are on the outside. I'm pretty sure this is what I always think, but I was told I was wrong several times after learning this for the first time. It could be the opposite, so maybe this section is irrelevant.
(4) Determining the alcohol level
Step One: Swirl the wine.
Step Two: Look at the tear drops falling down the side of the cup after the swirl.
Step Three: If they fall fast, there is less alcohol. If they fall slow, there is more.
(5) Production
This part might only be interesting to me, but that's ok since it is my blog.
Wine making starts from making sure each and every grape is absolutely perfect. Any imperfection and you can taste it in the entire batch of wine. No, the grapes being used are not the same ones you buy at the grocery store. These particular grapes come in many varieties too. Did you know that the 'type' of wine is actually the name of the grape? As in chardonnay is a grape before a kind of wine.
Next they carefully transport the grapes to the winery. To keep from breaking the skin and causing a natural fermentation process to start, they first wash them clean of all natural yeasts and place the grapes in a pneumatic press. This is a giant balloon that expands inside a tank to gently juice the grapes.
The juice is then place inside a tank where yeast is added for fermentation and the temp is carefully monitored to make sure the yeast doesn't die and stop the process. In red wines there is also a pump to keep the color consistent throughout the wine.
After an uncertain amount of time it is ready for one of three things. Bottling, aging, or moving on to becoming champagne. If aging is the choice it must go into an oak barrel. That is where wine gets all of its wonderful additional flavors from aging. The wood.
Now, technically champagne is only available in the Champagne region in France. In all other places it takes on a different name like sparking wine or vino pumante. To evolve into vino pumante, it must go through a second fermentation process. This can either be in a different tank or in an individual bottle (Dom Perignon is of this variety :))
Conclusion:
So, my intelligence is still rather elementary. At least I learned something. I was so obsessed with the idea of wine here I even made a special trip to wine country. It was amazing. I went to an organic winery where they would plant different fruit trees all along the periphery of the grape fields to act as a natural barrier for pests. Cool stuff.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
In my my classes I was able to learn about (1) what foods to pair the different types of wine with, (2) practiced detecting different scents in the wine, (3) examined the color of the wine, (4) detecting different levels of alcohol in wine by sight and (5) the wine making process. We will now transition to a place will I will further elaborate on my new intelligence or lack thereof.
(1) Food pairings
Tinto: red meat, cheese, pasta with a red sauce, red meat and cheese
Blanco: desserts, cheese, white meat, cheese
Pumante: Everything (personal opinion)
During my time in this class we were served various tapas. My favorite was the cheese. Every time you eat the cheese with a different kind of wine, the flavor changes. It is quite amazing and always fun to try and predict what the impending flavor is going to be.
(2) Scents
Tinto: still clueless
Blanco: granny smith apples
Pumante: yuuuuuuuuuuummy
This was by far the hardest thing to decipher. I really could only make up my mind with the white wines about what it reminded me of. They tend to be fruitier and I know the scents of fruits a lot better than spices.
(3) Color
Always examine the wine at a 45 degree angle over a white piece of paper. I always got confused after this part. When you look at the wine the color in the white wine is in the outside and the reflections are in the middle. With red wine the color is in the middle and the reflections are on the outside. I'm pretty sure this is what I always think, but I was told I was wrong several times after learning this for the first time. It could be the opposite, so maybe this section is irrelevant.
(4) Determining the alcohol level
Step One: Swirl the wine.
Step Two: Look at the tear drops falling down the side of the cup after the swirl.
Step Three: If they fall fast, there is less alcohol. If they fall slow, there is more.
(5) Production
This part might only be interesting to me, but that's ok since it is my blog.
Wine making starts from making sure each and every grape is absolutely perfect. Any imperfection and you can taste it in the entire batch of wine. No, the grapes being used are not the same ones you buy at the grocery store. These particular grapes come in many varieties too. Did you know that the 'type' of wine is actually the name of the grape? As in chardonnay is a grape before a kind of wine.
Next they carefully transport the grapes to the winery. To keep from breaking the skin and causing a natural fermentation process to start, they first wash them clean of all natural yeasts and place the grapes in a pneumatic press. This is a giant balloon that expands inside a tank to gently juice the grapes.
The juice is then place inside a tank where yeast is added for fermentation and the temp is carefully monitored to make sure the yeast doesn't die and stop the process. In red wines there is also a pump to keep the color consistent throughout the wine.
After an uncertain amount of time it is ready for one of three things. Bottling, aging, or moving on to becoming champagne. If aging is the choice it must go into an oak barrel. That is where wine gets all of its wonderful additional flavors from aging. The wood.
Now, technically champagne is only available in the Champagne region in France. In all other places it takes on a different name like sparking wine or vino pumante. To evolve into vino pumante, it must go through a second fermentation process. This can either be in a different tank or in an individual bottle (Dom Perignon is of this variety :))
Conclusion:
So, my intelligence is still rather elementary. At least I learned something. I was so obsessed with the idea of wine here I even made a special trip to wine country. It was amazing. I went to an organic winery where they would plant different fruit trees all along the periphery of the grape fields to act as a natural barrier for pests. Cool stuff.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
The Majesty of the Mountains
This past weekend I went to Mendoza. It is the wine country of Argentina where all of those Malbecs and Torrontes are made for my wine connoisseur friends out there. Now, as excited as I was about the wine, I have to admit the mountains were sooooooo much cooler.
It's hard to put into words how wonderful they are. I have pretty much grown up my entire life living relatively close to the beach. It is only an hour away so I'm able to take lots of day trips and go several times a year. The thing is, there is nothing that the beach can to to take my breath away quite like the mountains do. When I sit on the beach or walk along the water, I can see and feel where I am. It is apparent. The experience is just pretty straight forward and short lived.
Being in the mountains is a completely different experience. You can't really feel
a mountain the way you can feel a beach. There is nothing strange about the ground that is distinctly mountainous unless you count the inclines (which vary greatly and unless you are rock climbing, it probably isn't much steeper in the place you are at than a hill), nor is there something like the ocean looming around for you to go up and touch (just the occasional large rock you pass).
What makes the mountains so magical is that you become a part of them. They surround you. Encompass you. They become a part of you, and you become a part of them. You cannot touch it, because being there makes you apart it. The world that surrounds you is made up of so many different elements, it is impossible to name just two things that make the mountains so magical. There is no other point in my life where I really understand the idea of "becoming one with nature."
If you like being crammed at the beach trying to soak up sun and get skin cancer feel free. I think I'm going to keep being stupefied by the 360° view of beauty from the mountain top.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Today I'm Living Like a Queen
After my rant last night I built a sauna in my kitchen. It is itty bitty and has doors so I can enclose it. Not only did the warmth make me feel better and I was able to semi clean myself, but it was also a lot of fun to construct. I took three pots and filled them with water so that the kitchen would steam up. I was in heaven.
Later that night after I went to bed, I was suddenly woken up by someone coming in the door. Thank God she hadn't arrived 1.5 hours before...
This morning Sole shared an extra blanket, new sheets, towels AND a space heater. I hit the jackpot! As of right now, I am clean, warm and packing for a weekend trip to a vineyard.
Life is GREAT!
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Later that night after I went to bed, I was suddenly woken up by someone coming in the door. Thank God she hadn't arrived 1.5 hours before...
This morning Sole shared an extra blanket, new sheets, towels AND a space heater. I hit the jackpot! As of right now, I am clean, warm and packing for a weekend trip to a vineyard.
Life is GREAT!
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Living in a No-Shower Zone
I have been avoiding this blog post because I only planned on writing about happy, cool and funny things. However, the past twenty-four hours have been rather awful for me. At some point yesterday I was getting ready for a shower after spending the day at the zoo and walking through the whole thing twice (BA has a great zoo by the way. I have never been to one where the animals weren't sleeping or acting bored the whole time. Every animal I saw was acting alive and the lion was roaring. Oh, and no. This was not the zoo where you can ride lions and cuddle with tigers. I'll have to work up the courage for that one.) Needless to say, I was feeling the filth. Well, when I turned on the shower it was cold. That's ok. It's just because I washed a lot of dishes five minutes before.
Wait thirty minutes.
Try again.
Freezing. Frigid. Cold.
I tried three times last night to no avail. I went to the kitchen to examine the water heater. Turned it on maximo and tested it in the kitchen sink. Scary noises came from that water heater and I could see the flames. I put it back on merely caliente as per usual. Then it struck me. Something is really wrong if the water is heating in the kitchen but not the bathroom. I fiddled some more and accidentally turned the water heater off. As hard as I tried the thing did not come back one. Great. I waited and waited for my roommates to show up to help me but no one came home last night.
As you can imagine, I did not shower last night even though I could smell my stinking feet from a full day of walking. When the weather is in the 40s and there is no heater in the apartment, it is NOT a good idea a good idea to take a cold shower.
Now I sit here. More than 24 hours have elapsed and I STILL have not seen my roommates since Monday. Normally I like the solitude, but since I smell bad right now, I'd much rather have someone come back and correct my mistake.
But no. I'm sitting here in the cold, contemplating asking for a new place to stay where I can take hot showers and seriously considering boiling water for a sponge bath.
Today is not a glamorous day for me.
Maybe I'll laugh about this some day down the road...
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Wait thirty minutes.
Try again.
Freezing. Frigid. Cold.
I tried three times last night to no avail. I went to the kitchen to examine the water heater. Turned it on maximo and tested it in the kitchen sink. Scary noises came from that water heater and I could see the flames. I put it back on merely caliente as per usual. Then it struck me. Something is really wrong if the water is heating in the kitchen but not the bathroom. I fiddled some more and accidentally turned the water heater off. As hard as I tried the thing did not come back one. Great. I waited and waited for my roommates to show up to help me but no one came home last night.
As you can imagine, I did not shower last night even though I could smell my stinking feet from a full day of walking. When the weather is in the 40s and there is no heater in the apartment, it is NOT a good idea a good idea to take a cold shower.
Now I sit here. More than 24 hours have elapsed and I STILL have not seen my roommates since Monday. Normally I like the solitude, but since I smell bad right now, I'd much rather have someone come back and correct my mistake.
But no. I'm sitting here in the cold, contemplating asking for a new place to stay where I can take hot showers and seriously considering boiling water for a sponge bath.
Today is not a glamorous day for me.
Maybe I'll laugh about this some day down the road...
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Monday, June 6, 2011
History of Argentina: Eva Perón
The history of Latin America is covered with dictators, coups, corruption and times of terrorism. Every country seems to have some kind of dark past and most of these times are relatively recent. By this I mean there are people living today in these countries that still remember the horrors that occurred. Argentina is no exception. I have been doing my research, going to museums and talking to a few locals I know to get a better idea of some of these times. My goal is to have a mini series within my blog about the history of Argentina to share with you. I'm not going to delve too deeply into the history. Just far enough so you can see what has lead Argentina to the place it is today. This is my first entry, and I want to begin in the 1940s with Eva Perón.
Here she is. Eva Perón. More affectionately referred to as Evita. No, she was not a natural blonde, but there is no denying how beautiful this woman was. She wasn't technically a political leader. Just the first lady for Juan Perón. However, what she meant to the people of Argentina is incredible.
She came from a less than middle class family. Tainted by the fact she was born out of wedlock. At the age of 15 she decided to move to Buenos Aires to pursue a career in the entertainment industry. Well, she was no Madonna, that is for sure. During her time in BA she got involved with a lot of charity work and eventually she met her future husband, Juan Perón, at a fundraiser. They got married and a short while later he won his first presidency of Argentina in 1946.
It was during his presidency that the Argentine love for Evita formed. They did a lot for the working class. Most of it was from her influence too. She started a foundation that built houses, schools, orphanages and hospitals. The foundation even purchased necessities such as shoes, kitchenware and sewing machines and handed them out to those in need. She worked in the women's suffrage to help get them the right to vote (This also helped her husband in the polls. If you're the president who finally gives women the right to vote, of course you just gained support from the entire female population regardless of class.) Evita was a light to the poor. She made sure that those in need received some kind of assistance. Nothing was too much. During Christmas Juan and Evita would personally hand out presents to children. The rest of the year she would spend hours of the day meeting with the citizens. She would hug and kiss them and wish them well. This courtesy was even extended to lepers.
People idolized this woman and called her Saint Evita. They thought she had the power to heal and bless people. The philosophy was that if she looked at you even for a milisecond, it means she thought about you momentarily. That miniscule thought counted and because of it you were eternally blessed. Women everywhere were copying her style. They bleached their hair and would copy her clothing.
Now, every liked person doesn't go without their opposition. Many of the rich people hated her. They didn't like she wasn't born into the elites, her scandalous past as an actress or that she spent some much money helping the poor. As far as I can tell though she was liked a lot more than she was hated. I mean, I did get most of this information from El Museo Evita after all.
However, all good things come to a close. She died in 1952 at the age of 33 to cancer. It was at the peak of her fame too. The people mourned for a very long time. Losing Evita was felt everywhere.
Now, after her death things involving Evita were still very interesting. Her body was embalmed and put on display while plans to build a national monument in her honor were underway. A few years later a military coup took over, Juan fled to Europe, her body was left on display and stolen by the military coup. For sixteen years no one knew what happened. It was later revealed they had sent her body to Milan and buried it under and alias. Eventually her body was returned to Juan where he was living in Spain. He went back to Argentina leaving her body in Spain. He won the presidency again and died in office. It was his new wife, Isabel, who was serving as VP and thus took over his term who finally brought the body of Eva Perón back to Argentina.
She now rests in one of the ritziest cemetaries in the city, el Cemetario Recoleta. It is filled with a lot of above ground tombs and is the final resting place for lots of the most famous names in Argentine history. To this day people still visit her tomb. It not only is the most popular grave to visit, but flowers are still left in her honor.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Here she is. Eva Perón. More affectionately referred to as Evita. No, she was not a natural blonde, but there is no denying how beautiful this woman was. She wasn't technically a political leader. Just the first lady for Juan Perón. However, what she meant to the people of Argentina is incredible.
She came from a less than middle class family. Tainted by the fact she was born out of wedlock. At the age of 15 she decided to move to Buenos Aires to pursue a career in the entertainment industry. Well, she was no Madonna, that is for sure. During her time in BA she got involved with a lot of charity work and eventually she met her future husband, Juan Perón, at a fundraiser. They got married and a short while later he won his first presidency of Argentina in 1946.
It was during his presidency that the Argentine love for Evita formed. They did a lot for the working class. Most of it was from her influence too. She started a foundation that built houses, schools, orphanages and hospitals. The foundation even purchased necessities such as shoes, kitchenware and sewing machines and handed them out to those in need. She worked in the women's suffrage to help get them the right to vote (This also helped her husband in the polls. If you're the president who finally gives women the right to vote, of course you just gained support from the entire female population regardless of class.) Evita was a light to the poor. She made sure that those in need received some kind of assistance. Nothing was too much. During Christmas Juan and Evita would personally hand out presents to children. The rest of the year she would spend hours of the day meeting with the citizens. She would hug and kiss them and wish them well. This courtesy was even extended to lepers.
People idolized this woman and called her Saint Evita. They thought she had the power to heal and bless people. The philosophy was that if she looked at you even for a milisecond, it means she thought about you momentarily. That miniscule thought counted and because of it you were eternally blessed. Women everywhere were copying her style. They bleached their hair and would copy her clothing.
Now, every liked person doesn't go without their opposition. Many of the rich people hated her. They didn't like she wasn't born into the elites, her scandalous past as an actress or that she spent some much money helping the poor. As far as I can tell though she was liked a lot more than she was hated. I mean, I did get most of this information from El Museo Evita after all.
However, all good things come to a close. She died in 1952 at the age of 33 to cancer. It was at the peak of her fame too. The people mourned for a very long time. Losing Evita was felt everywhere.
Now, after her death things involving Evita were still very interesting. Her body was embalmed and put on display while plans to build a national monument in her honor were underway. A few years later a military coup took over, Juan fled to Europe, her body was left on display and stolen by the military coup. For sixteen years no one knew what happened. It was later revealed they had sent her body to Milan and buried it under and alias. Eventually her body was returned to Juan where he was living in Spain. He went back to Argentina leaving her body in Spain. He won the presidency again and died in office. It was his new wife, Isabel, who was serving as VP and thus took over his term who finally brought the body of Eva Perón back to Argentina.
She now rests in one of the ritziest cemetaries in the city, el Cemetario Recoleta. It is filled with a lot of above ground tombs and is the final resting place for lots of the most famous names in Argentine history. To this day people still visit her tomb. It not only is the most popular grave to visit, but flowers are still left in her honor.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Money Problems Amongst Idiocy
Well, I finally ran out of cash today. It was bound to happen sooner or later so I had to take a trip to the ATM. As I was leaving my class I got directions to the best bank to go to. Didn't want to go to one that would give me a bad exchange rate. Standard Bank. Let's go.
When I got there, I stuck my card into the machine. Nothing happened. Tried again. Nothing happened. I looked around a bit and saw the two machines behind me said cajero electronico. The one I was at did not say that. It did have money envelopes, but now that I think about it they may have been for some official bank business. I had taken a closer look at the envelopes and they all had some kind of code on them so I didn't take one.
Deciding that something useful might happen if I switch machines, I walked to one of the ones behind me. Yup. That sucker was happy to suck my card in. No problem. I looked at the screen. My name was on there and it said confirm. I clicked 'Si.' It seemed kind of strange to have a name confirmation on there. If someone were to steal my card, why would they deny my name? Oh, well.
I filled out all the rest of the questions. English. Receipt. $700. Your card be accepted here.
Excuse me?
Try again. Yes, I am Emily. English. Receipt. $200 (in case I forgot to transfer money from my savings to my checking).
Your card cannot be accepted here.
Dammit. My credit card company didn't mark that I was abroad. What do I do now?
As I left cashless and worried about my finances something occurred to me on the walk home. I have used BOTH my credit and debit card already. Once for the $140 reciprocal fee and once for my wine classes. What is going on?
I knew that there was a BBVA on Santa Fe and Anchorena so I decided to try there just in case. BBVA was in Cusco last year. I used them all the time. No problem. Same cards.
In I go hoping to not be embarrassed by further rejection. Suck. Are you Emily Carlson? Again with the weird questions. 'Si.' Nothing happens. 'Si.' Nothing happens. What is going on?
Now I finally choose to read the screen. There seems to be more on there besides Emily E. Carlson and a confirmation button. Please Enter your Personal Identification Number..............................................................
Oops.
Note to self. Always read everything on the screen.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
When I got there, I stuck my card into the machine. Nothing happened. Tried again. Nothing happened. I looked around a bit and saw the two machines behind me said cajero electronico. The one I was at did not say that. It did have money envelopes, but now that I think about it they may have been for some official bank business. I had taken a closer look at the envelopes and they all had some kind of code on them so I didn't take one.
Deciding that something useful might happen if I switch machines, I walked to one of the ones behind me. Yup. That sucker was happy to suck my card in. No problem. I looked at the screen. My name was on there and it said confirm. I clicked 'Si.' It seemed kind of strange to have a name confirmation on there. If someone were to steal my card, why would they deny my name? Oh, well.
I filled out all the rest of the questions. English. Receipt. $700. Your card be accepted here.
Excuse me?
Try again. Yes, I am Emily. English. Receipt. $200 (in case I forgot to transfer money from my savings to my checking).
Your card cannot be accepted here.
Dammit. My credit card company didn't mark that I was abroad. What do I do now?
As I left cashless and worried about my finances something occurred to me on the walk home. I have used BOTH my credit and debit card already. Once for the $140 reciprocal fee and once for my wine classes. What is going on?
I knew that there was a BBVA on Santa Fe and Anchorena so I decided to try there just in case. BBVA was in Cusco last year. I used them all the time. No problem. Same cards.
In I go hoping to not be embarrassed by further rejection. Suck. Are you Emily Carlson? Again with the weird questions. 'Si.' Nothing happens. 'Si.' Nothing happens. What is going on?
Now I finally choose to read the screen. There seems to be more on there besides Emily E. Carlson and a confirmation button. Please Enter your Personal Identification Number..............................................................
Oops.
Note to self. Always read everything on the screen.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Monday, May 30, 2011
Goals
Seven ***** Men
*This blog post is rated PG-13. No profanity will be used, but nudity will be alluded to. Do not share with children unable to hand this topic.*
Last Wednesday was a holiday here in Argentina. El venticino de mayo. Apparently it is the anniversary of the May Revolution in 1810. Don't know what happened then, but I like celebrating holidays in another country. It feels like a random day off instead of a deserved on.
Anyways, Luise and I had gone down to microcentro to see the happenings there. On the way back I got a serious case of the hiccups. She hears me and starts giggling. It's hard to hide those things you know. She keeps giggling and tells me about a German cure for hiccups. "Just think of seven naked men" she told me. "I don't know if it works, but that's what we say. It's silly"
In awe of such a wonderful way to cure hiccups I immediately began to ponder such an idea. As I kept pondering it was quite evident to both of us that it was passed the time for my next scheduled hiccup.
It never came either.
Thinking of seven naked men really does cure hiccups.
Try it next time.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Last Wednesday was a holiday here in Argentina. El venticino de mayo. Apparently it is the anniversary of the May Revolution in 1810. Don't know what happened then, but I like celebrating holidays in another country. It feels like a random day off instead of a deserved on.
Anyways, Luise and I had gone down to microcentro to see the happenings there. On the way back I got a serious case of the hiccups. She hears me and starts giggling. It's hard to hide those things you know. She keeps giggling and tells me about a German cure for hiccups. "Just think of seven naked men" she told me. "I don't know if it works, but that's what we say. It's silly"
In awe of such a wonderful way to cure hiccups I immediately began to ponder such an idea. As I kept pondering it was quite evident to both of us that it was passed the time for my next scheduled hiccup.
It never came either.
Thinking of seven naked men really does cure hiccups.
Try it next time.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Escaping the Hustle and Bustle
The different barrios really do take on a life of their own. I am by no means an expert on this. I live in between Recoleta y Palermo, two of the nicest areas of the city and I haven't really ventured too far off. I'm made my way down to microcentro, the business and political downtown of BA, and saw la Casa Rosada (Yes, this does literally the pink house). It is the Argentine equivalent of the White House which means it is home to Cristina Kirchner. Here is my proof:
I may not be a world class photographer, no do I aspire to be one, but at least it proves my point. Throughout microcentro are lots of political signs such as this:
Maybe I am just ridiculously simple minded, but I think "Cristina en la Rosada" is a cute catch phrase. Even if she isn't officially running yet. Probably just building up some suspense.
Microcentro was neat, but it was just like any other downtown business district/nations capital. Busy busy busy. Cars cars cars. People people people. They even had tourist traps disguised as national monuments like the Oblisque. It looks just like the Washington monument, only the words are in Spanish and it looks out of place amongst tall buildings and a giant puppy head. No joke. There really is a puppy head.
Seriously people. I am not creative enough to come up with puppy heads on my own.
I would not say I am completely sick of the city yet, but I will say, there are parts of BA that I could not wait to see in person. This led to the idea of going to La Boca for the day.
La Boca is a barrio in BA unlike anything you could experience anywhere else. In many ways it is touristy, but I have to say, this place is so neat, it deserves to be a high demand tourist destination in the city. What attracted me first to La Boca is the colors. I am kind of a color freak. The brighter the better. I never buy a purse that is in a neutral color. It always has to flash. I am a little bit better when it comes to shoes, but rest assured I cannot pass up a pair of patent pink shoes. This is a fact, not an idea. There is a pair of patent pink shoes in my closet back home feeling neglected. I couldn't bear to bring them though in case my luggage went MIA again. It is a serious paranoia now.
Back to La Boca.
I am going to guesstimate it all started around 1900. It's a made up year so don't go quoting me. So, in 1900 immigrants from Europe started coming to Argentina. The settled in La Boca (name originated from it being the "mouth" of a port river). They worked at the port and lived a very humble lifestyle. These immigrants could not afford to buy nice paint for their houses so in stead they took left overs from the shipyards. Needless to say no one was ever able to get enough to cover an entire house, but something magical happened. All of a sudden this little barrio became was a place where the life was visible not only in the people, but in the appearance of the buildings. Take a gander.
Oh yes. La Boca is definitely what I would look like if I were a city. I got to wander around and enjoy all the cute little buildings, have some churros con chocolate and watch the Manchester v. Barcelona game. Ok, so I left the café as soon as I was done with the churros con chocolate and had to loo up the score late. Don't hold it against me. Sports of any kind except the Olympic kind bore me.
After that I had an overwhelming desire to go see la casa minima. It was one neighborhood over in San Telmo and I could not resist. Who wouldn't be interested in seeing the tiniest house in the city? I had been seeing the city with Luise and we had taken a bus to La Boca. It was pretty easy to get there since all we had to do was find the right bus and get off at the last stop. Really complicated as you can see. Getting off at the right stop mid way back was a different story. I had to announce every street corner to her as she watched the map to make sure we got off.
We did in fact get off at the right spot, but finding the place was a little bit different and that street was a bit dangerous to cross. I blame the reckless drivers that did not reveal themselves until after we were half way across. They should not be allowed to do that. We survived and managed to take an absurdly long rout to get to la casa minima. I am so glad we did. San Telmo is the cutest part of BA I have seen so far. All the streets are cobblestone and there is minimal traffic. There are countless antique stores that magnetize you from the streets. Every few blocks the influence from La Boca bleeds through with a brightly colored building. I wasn't there long, but I absolutely loved it there. Going back is definitely on the agenda.
I have to say I really liked my time away from my upscale abode off of Santa Fe. People weren't as hoity in the way they dressed. They were still well dressed like any self respecting porteño, but everyone was not wearing top of the line designer everything like I see closer to my apartamiento. Crossing the street wasn't nearly as dangerous and all in all it was a very peaceful experience.
Oh, and I can now officially say I have experience with every mode of public transportation in BA. Subte, taxi, bus, and walking. Go team Emily!
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
I may not be a world class photographer, no do I aspire to be one, but at least it proves my point. Throughout microcentro are lots of political signs such as this:
Maybe I am just ridiculously simple minded, but I think "Cristina en la Rosada" is a cute catch phrase. Even if she isn't officially running yet. Probably just building up some suspense.
Microcentro was neat, but it was just like any other downtown business district/nations capital. Busy busy busy. Cars cars cars. People people people. They even had tourist traps disguised as national monuments like the Oblisque. It looks just like the Washington monument, only the words are in Spanish and it looks out of place amongst tall buildings and a giant puppy head. No joke. There really is a puppy head.
Seriously people. I am not creative enough to come up with puppy heads on my own.
I would not say I am completely sick of the city yet, but I will say, there are parts of BA that I could not wait to see in person. This led to the idea of going to La Boca for the day.
La Boca is a barrio in BA unlike anything you could experience anywhere else. In many ways it is touristy, but I have to say, this place is so neat, it deserves to be a high demand tourist destination in the city. What attracted me first to La Boca is the colors. I am kind of a color freak. The brighter the better. I never buy a purse that is in a neutral color. It always has to flash. I am a little bit better when it comes to shoes, but rest assured I cannot pass up a pair of patent pink shoes. This is a fact, not an idea. There is a pair of patent pink shoes in my closet back home feeling neglected. I couldn't bear to bring them though in case my luggage went MIA again. It is a serious paranoia now.
Back to La Boca.
I am going to guesstimate it all started around 1900. It's a made up year so don't go quoting me. So, in 1900 immigrants from Europe started coming to Argentina. The settled in La Boca (name originated from it being the "mouth" of a port river). They worked at the port and lived a very humble lifestyle. These immigrants could not afford to buy nice paint for their houses so in stead they took left overs from the shipyards. Needless to say no one was ever able to get enough to cover an entire house, but something magical happened. All of a sudden this little barrio became was a place where the life was visible not only in the people, but in the appearance of the buildings. Take a gander.
Oh yes. La Boca is definitely what I would look like if I were a city. I got to wander around and enjoy all the cute little buildings, have some churros con chocolate and watch the Manchester v. Barcelona game. Ok, so I left the café as soon as I was done with the churros con chocolate and had to loo up the score late. Don't hold it against me. Sports of any kind except the Olympic kind bore me.
After that I had an overwhelming desire to go see la casa minima. It was one neighborhood over in San Telmo and I could not resist. Who wouldn't be interested in seeing the tiniest house in the city? I had been seeing the city with Luise and we had taken a bus to La Boca. It was pretty easy to get there since all we had to do was find the right bus and get off at the last stop. Really complicated as you can see. Getting off at the right stop mid way back was a different story. I had to announce every street corner to her as she watched the map to make sure we got off.
We did in fact get off at the right spot, but finding the place was a little bit different and that street was a bit dangerous to cross. I blame the reckless drivers that did not reveal themselves until after we were half way across. They should not be allowed to do that. We survived and managed to take an absurdly long rout to get to la casa minima. I am so glad we did. San Telmo is the cutest part of BA I have seen so far. All the streets are cobblestone and there is minimal traffic. There are countless antique stores that magnetize you from the streets. Every few blocks the influence from La Boca bleeds through with a brightly colored building. I wasn't there long, but I absolutely loved it there. Going back is definitely on the agenda.
I have to say I really liked my time away from my upscale abode off of Santa Fe. People weren't as hoity in the way they dressed. They were still well dressed like any self respecting porteño, but everyone was not wearing top of the line designer everything like I see closer to my apartamiento. Crossing the street wasn't nearly as dangerous and all in all it was a very peaceful experience.
Oh, and I can now officially say I have experience with every mode of public transportation in BA. Subte, taxi, bus, and walking. Go team Emily!
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Friday, May 27, 2011
The Realities of Living Abroad
The idea of living abroad always sounds very glamorous. It is amazing. I wouldn't be here if it weren't true, but many times I think it almost gets glamorized. As I sit in my apartment with a map of Buenos Aires and a Lonely Planet trying to plan out my weekend and what sights I want to see in La Boca this weekend, I feel compelled to tell everyone about my less interesting plans this weekend. Don't get me wrong. Taking pictures of brightly colored houses, visiting markets and watching people tango on the street is going to be amazing. I cannot wait to report back, but the best part of living abroad is living. Noticing the differences between what my reality is and the what a porteño views as reality. That's the main reason I'm here. So, without stalling anymore here is a list of things I plan on doing this weekend. They are monotonous and typical, but necessary all the same.
1. Organize my room
I have yet to lose anything, but that doesn't mean much. I have a strong tendency to be rather disorganized. My space is extremely limited and I need to at least know where things are "supposed" to be. If everything has a place that it should be it will be easier to help me discover where I might have left MIA objects.
2. Locate a large plastic bag
Water an electricity in South America are very expensive. Therefore, dish washers, washing machines and dryers are an extreme luxury. Obviously my cute college student roommates don't have either. Washing dishes by hand really doesn't bother me. I rarely use more than three dishes when I eat and it takes zero to no effort to wash my mess with soap, rinse and leave it on the frying rack. Occasionally I take my turn putting up dishes on the drying rack.
What gets different and more complicated is washing my clothes. I believe I have walked by the stereotypical laundromat, but those are few and far between. What is much more plentiful and common for porteños is a lavandería. A lavandería is basically a laundromat, but instead I just drop off my clothes, pay and come back later for them. From what I hear it costs little more than Ar $15 ($4 USD). Pretty much the same as a laundromat, but much less work. I cannot wait. Just need to get my hands on something to assist in the transport.
3. Find a cute café to frequent
Coffee shops in the US are a pale comparison to an Argentine café. The coffee is normal sized and actually comes in a mug. Not some cheap plastic thing that is going to be thrown away, not recycled, and pollute the planet. They also sell cute,cheap sandwiches, empanadas and cakes. I love sitting around in one, watching people go by and just relax. No time constraints. No care about how long my food is taking to get to me. Just enjoy the moment.
By locating a café to frequent I actually have two ulterior motives. The first is that I will gain more experience talking to people. After a while the employees will recognize me and carry conversations with me. It will be nice to have a ¨place¨ in BA. Secondly, I am obsessed with empanadas. They are these amazing stuffed pastries that come filled with cheese, chicken, beef, ham or various vegetables. It is my goal to be able to bake these before I leave. I have seen the the supermarket pre-made dough, so how hard could it be after. I just need to eat a few to investigate the flavors and shapes of the empanadas to see what I like best.
4. Study Spanish vocabulary
I will be the first to admit I only study for tests. Therefore, the number of words I have available at my disposal are limited. It's time I grow up and finally start memorizing the vocab. I chose to live here after all. Might as well act like I care about the language.
So, there you go. There are lots of unglamorous things that happen along with all of the fun and interesting Argentine discoveries. I'm sure everyone wants to believe that I am always out and about living a touristic kind of life, but that just is not reality. I still have to take time to do laundry and clean my room. There are even times when I just sit around and watch TV. Like now for instance. The Corpse Bride is on TNT right now. Yes, for some reason I have TNT here. No worries though. Everything is either in Spanish or has Spanish subtitles. I better go. It's a lot harder to watch my movie in Spanish. More likely to miss something they said.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
1. Organize my room
I have yet to lose anything, but that doesn't mean much. I have a strong tendency to be rather disorganized. My space is extremely limited and I need to at least know where things are "supposed" to be. If everything has a place that it should be it will be easier to help me discover where I might have left MIA objects.
2. Locate a large plastic bag
Water an electricity in South America are very expensive. Therefore, dish washers, washing machines and dryers are an extreme luxury. Obviously my cute college student roommates don't have either. Washing dishes by hand really doesn't bother me. I rarely use more than three dishes when I eat and it takes zero to no effort to wash my mess with soap, rinse and leave it on the frying rack. Occasionally I take my turn putting up dishes on the drying rack.
What gets different and more complicated is washing my clothes. I believe I have walked by the stereotypical laundromat, but those are few and far between. What is much more plentiful and common for porteños is a lavandería. A lavandería is basically a laundromat, but instead I just drop off my clothes, pay and come back later for them. From what I hear it costs little more than Ar $15 ($4 USD). Pretty much the same as a laundromat, but much less work. I cannot wait. Just need to get my hands on something to assist in the transport.
3. Find a cute café to frequent
Coffee shops in the US are a pale comparison to an Argentine café. The coffee is normal sized and actually comes in a mug. Not some cheap plastic thing that is going to be thrown away, not recycled, and pollute the planet. They also sell cute,cheap sandwiches, empanadas and cakes. I love sitting around in one, watching people go by and just relax. No time constraints. No care about how long my food is taking to get to me. Just enjoy the moment.
By locating a café to frequent I actually have two ulterior motives. The first is that I will gain more experience talking to people. After a while the employees will recognize me and carry conversations with me. It will be nice to have a ¨place¨ in BA. Secondly, I am obsessed with empanadas. They are these amazing stuffed pastries that come filled with cheese, chicken, beef, ham or various vegetables. It is my goal to be able to bake these before I leave. I have seen the the supermarket pre-made dough, so how hard could it be after. I just need to eat a few to investigate the flavors and shapes of the empanadas to see what I like best.
4. Study Spanish vocabulary
I will be the first to admit I only study for tests. Therefore, the number of words I have available at my disposal are limited. It's time I grow up and finally start memorizing the vocab. I chose to live here after all. Might as well act like I care about the language.
So, there you go. There are lots of unglamorous things that happen along with all of the fun and interesting Argentine discoveries. I'm sure everyone wants to believe that I am always out and about living a touristic kind of life, but that just is not reality. I still have to take time to do laundry and clean my room. There are even times when I just sit around and watch TV. Like now for instance. The Corpse Bride is on TNT right now. Yes, for some reason I have TNT here. No worries though. Everything is either in Spanish or has Spanish subtitles. I better go. It's a lot harder to watch my movie in Spanish. More likely to miss something they said.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Fire Drills and Safety Tips
Classes in Buenos Aires are a lot more chill than in the States. For example, I arrive five minutes late and the class hasn't even started. On top of that, I'm the second out of five to arrive. Even beat the teacher. Not to mention, we get two breaks in a four hour class and 15 minutes always turns into 20. Like I said, things are lax here.
Today's class was a bit different than most. I had just cleaned out my coffee mug and finished using the restroom when I noticed Nick, my program coordinator saying something to people in the lounging area and then they were getting up and walking out. Very unlike anything I have witnessed for a break to be cut short around here. All of a sudden I heard what he was saying. "Fire drill, go outside." Baffled by the idea that a fire drill can be held just by words and not a siren I had to ask, "¿En serio?" "Yes, go." Upon closer inspection I confirmed that people were in fact exiting the building.
As I joined them about 15 of us congregated a few meters away at the street corner. Praising God that I had my jacket with me and I hadn't left it in the classroom, I over hear a conversation between Michel, the frenchman in my class and Lola, the R2A secretary. Apparently there is no need to sound an alarm unless there is a real fire. The building does in fact have one, it just wasn't set off for the drill. Elated as I was that there were some safety precautions taken by R2A in the building, it was time to go back inside and move forward with life. Nick had just arrived with the handful of Roadies in the upstairs student housing so they could also participate in the drill. Once they arrived we stared at each other for 2.6 seconds and declared the drill complete.
I found all of this rather curious because I find BA to be a rather safe city. Not in the sense of crime rates. I really have not idea about that. More in the sense that there are plenty of other cities that are naturally more hazardous for klutzes like myself.
All day, everyday, I compare BA with Cusco. I cannot help it, and this is just another one of those instances. Cusco is beyond dangerous from the American POV. The cobble stone sidewalks were very slick there. If I just wore the wrong shoes I would slip and bust my ass on a perfectly dry day. Very few stair cases on the streets had handrails there and as in the case of Macchu Pichu, one side of the staircase was a wall and the other was a fall down a cliff. Not exactly comforting if you were afraid of heights. Construction areas were open of pedestrians to walk through if need be and if the construction zone consisted of an open ditch along the road, they would put a pair of rickety 2x4s down so that you could cross the street if need be. To top it off the taxis were a freightful experience. Every time I rode in one my ass was either in the air or I was convinced I was going to die as my driver pulled out into oncoming traffic. It wasn't until the end of my trip when I started to cross the 2x4s without a second thought and was not shocked by the risks the taxi drivers were taking that I began to fear for my sanity.
None of this happens in Buenos Aires. I have yet to take a taxi here besides the one from the airport to my apartment, but my ass never left the seat so I take that as a good sign. The few construction zones I have come across have been blocked off and since the city lacks mountains, I really can't judge their use of hand rails. However, I would be surprised if there weren't one on a public street.
All in all I find BA to be a lot more developed with safety than Peru was. Peru is my heart, but at least in BA they don't need speed humps next to all the stop signs to try and force people to actually stop like they do in Lima. I have to say that although I am convince the world just caved underneath me slightly and it was not that I stepped on an uneven piece of terrain, BA is a comforting place to be. Granted, I do fear face planting at some point on every walk I take around here, but that is normal for a klutz like myself. Fearing the road I have to cross is actually a ditch with a 2x4 is not normal for anyone. Beware.
So, to all my dear friends, please note, appreciate the safety regulations that the States enforces. They are annoying at times, but when you find yourself in a place that lacks them, your life begins to feel like it is constantly in danger. Sometimes, life is more comfortable with rules.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Today's class was a bit different than most. I had just cleaned out my coffee mug and finished using the restroom when I noticed Nick, my program coordinator saying something to people in the lounging area and then they were getting up and walking out. Very unlike anything I have witnessed for a break to be cut short around here. All of a sudden I heard what he was saying. "Fire drill, go outside." Baffled by the idea that a fire drill can be held just by words and not a siren I had to ask, "¿En serio?" "Yes, go." Upon closer inspection I confirmed that people were in fact exiting the building.
As I joined them about 15 of us congregated a few meters away at the street corner. Praising God that I had my jacket with me and I hadn't left it in the classroom, I over hear a conversation between Michel, the frenchman in my class and Lola, the R2A secretary. Apparently there is no need to sound an alarm unless there is a real fire. The building does in fact have one, it just wasn't set off for the drill. Elated as I was that there were some safety precautions taken by R2A in the building, it was time to go back inside and move forward with life. Nick had just arrived with the handful of Roadies in the upstairs student housing so they could also participate in the drill. Once they arrived we stared at each other for 2.6 seconds and declared the drill complete.
I found all of this rather curious because I find BA to be a rather safe city. Not in the sense of crime rates. I really have not idea about that. More in the sense that there are plenty of other cities that are naturally more hazardous for klutzes like myself.
All day, everyday, I compare BA with Cusco. I cannot help it, and this is just another one of those instances. Cusco is beyond dangerous from the American POV. The cobble stone sidewalks were very slick there. If I just wore the wrong shoes I would slip and bust my ass on a perfectly dry day. Very few stair cases on the streets had handrails there and as in the case of Macchu Pichu, one side of the staircase was a wall and the other was a fall down a cliff. Not exactly comforting if you were afraid of heights. Construction areas were open of pedestrians to walk through if need be and if the construction zone consisted of an open ditch along the road, they would put a pair of rickety 2x4s down so that you could cross the street if need be. To top it off the taxis were a freightful experience. Every time I rode in one my ass was either in the air or I was convinced I was going to die as my driver pulled out into oncoming traffic. It wasn't until the end of my trip when I started to cross the 2x4s without a second thought and was not shocked by the risks the taxi drivers were taking that I began to fear for my sanity.
None of this happens in Buenos Aires. I have yet to take a taxi here besides the one from the airport to my apartment, but my ass never left the seat so I take that as a good sign. The few construction zones I have come across have been blocked off and since the city lacks mountains, I really can't judge their use of hand rails. However, I would be surprised if there weren't one on a public street.
All in all I find BA to be a lot more developed with safety than Peru was. Peru is my heart, but at least in BA they don't need speed humps next to all the stop signs to try and force people to actually stop like they do in Lima. I have to say that although I am convince the world just caved underneath me slightly and it was not that I stepped on an uneven piece of terrain, BA is a comforting place to be. Granted, I do fear face planting at some point on every walk I take around here, but that is normal for a klutz like myself. Fearing the road I have to cross is actually a ditch with a 2x4 is not normal for anyone. Beware.
So, to all my dear friends, please note, appreciate the safety regulations that the States enforces. They are annoying at times, but when you find yourself in a place that lacks them, your life begins to feel like it is constantly in danger. Sometimes, life is more comfortable with rules.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Lots of Firsts
I can't believe that I have been here for four days already and that it's only been less than a week since I left Mobile. It honestly feels like a lot more time is separating me from home. All that aside, I am still having an amazing time. The past few days have been full of lots of firsts in this city. Here are a few of them:
1. Lost
I have a tendency to get really lost in new cities. If someone else is with me and leading, it is safe to assume that I am not paying attention to the directions. In this case however, I failed at reading a map. Somehow I ended up passing the street I needed, turning the wrong direction down one I thought would be useful and walking about 10 blocks in the wrong direction, the having to retrace my steps. What is even worse is it took me about two days to finally figure out what went so horribly wrong. What should have been less than a 20 minute walk took me 50 minutes and arrived 15 minutes late. Unacceptable. Thank God for Latin Time and the fact that they told me to get there 30 minutes before my class actually started. I am proud to say the next day I quickly figured out the best route and am no longer taking strange detours unintentionally.
2. Soy una porteña
I have to admit I was really honored yesterday when a man walked up to me and asked me if the road I had just passed was Aguero. I must have really looked like a porteña with my headphones in and walking around like I don't give a shit. Sad for him I really didn't know the answer. Lucky for him I had just passed a subte (subway) station that had said "Aguero." Me deductive reasoning skills told me that the street I had passed shortly after was probably Aguero so I told him "Creo" ("I believe so"). It was the perfect answer. Showed a little doubt, but still likely to be helpful all the same. I checked the street signs when I passed the subte again later. I was right, it was Aguero :).
3. Mate
Mate is the Argentine version of tea. They still have normal tea, but this is a bit more extreme. The keep the special mate leaves in a coffee kind of can and pour the entire bosilla (mate mug - this may be the wrong word acutally...) full of the leaves. Then the moisten the leaves and insert the spoon/straw to drink from. Add some sugar and hot, but not boiling, water and you have a complete mate. It looks like a tiny bong. Wish I had a picture to prove this, but you'll have to take my word until I can prove it. When I tried the bong tea, it was incredibly strong tea, and I kept getting leaves in my mouth. Didn't really like it too much so I passed it on to the next victim. Jacob, my fellow Alabamian, told me that I wasn't supposed to move the straw. That's why I was getting leaves in my mouth. Oops. Better luck next time.
4. Parilla
Argentina is known for it's beef. They are the right up there with America in their consumption of been, but they are a bit more extreme. They eat intestines and such too. I went to my first Parilla (grill house) to try my first Argentine steak yesterday. Even though I do eat everything, I was not up so buying an intestine quite yet. Rest assured, I most definitely will at some point in the next three months. I had asked someone at the R2A office where a cheap one was. When I arrived, I was expecting a hole in the wall, but this place was NICE. For $50 (just over $12USD), I got bread, a chicken breast, mashed potatoes, fancy glass bottle of agua sin gas, and after dinner tea. My German friend, Luise, went with me and got bread, a steak, fries, same fancy glass of agua sin gas y café. We both had a hard time deciding between the steak and chicken so we cut the meat in half and shared. This included tip and strange Argentine need to charge for using silverware. I ordered off the daily menú (lunch special) to get this amazing deal. It was delicious and something everyone must try while in Argentina. Can't wait to go back!
5. Vino
I turned 21 about a week before leaving for BA, so I had to jump at the chance to take a wine tasting class since I can finally apply it back home. Last night was my first lesson and I learned so much. It was very clear I knew nothing about wine before. Honestly, at some points I knew embarrassingly little. For now, I will not share all of my knowledge about wine right now. I will save it to make a complete reference guide later for all to utilize and appreciate.
6. Fighting Temptation
I live about four blocks from the best shopping district in the city along la Avenida Santa Fe. It is amazing and I have fought every urge to enter any of the stores. I love window shopping, but to be honest, I don't need any clothes. As beautiful as everything is, I can find things I like just as much in the State. The money could be better spent going on a trip somewhere. I can replace clothes, but not an opportunity. My main goal is to buy a few souvenirs for myself and the people I am REALLY close to. Nada más. So, here's to hoping I never enter one of the stores. It will only make the temptation worse.
Besos!
La porteña Emilia
1. Lost
I have a tendency to get really lost in new cities. If someone else is with me and leading, it is safe to assume that I am not paying attention to the directions. In this case however, I failed at reading a map. Somehow I ended up passing the street I needed, turning the wrong direction down one I thought would be useful and walking about 10 blocks in the wrong direction, the having to retrace my steps. What is even worse is it took me about two days to finally figure out what went so horribly wrong. What should have been less than a 20 minute walk took me 50 minutes and arrived 15 minutes late. Unacceptable. Thank God for Latin Time and the fact that they told me to get there 30 minutes before my class actually started. I am proud to say the next day I quickly figured out the best route and am no longer taking strange detours unintentionally.
2. Soy una porteña
I have to admit I was really honored yesterday when a man walked up to me and asked me if the road I had just passed was Aguero. I must have really looked like a porteña with my headphones in and walking around like I don't give a shit. Sad for him I really didn't know the answer. Lucky for him I had just passed a subte (subway) station that had said "Aguero." Me deductive reasoning skills told me that the street I had passed shortly after was probably Aguero so I told him "Creo" ("I believe so"). It was the perfect answer. Showed a little doubt, but still likely to be helpful all the same. I checked the street signs when I passed the subte again later. I was right, it was Aguero :).
3. Mate
Mate is the Argentine version of tea. They still have normal tea, but this is a bit more extreme. The keep the special mate leaves in a coffee kind of can and pour the entire bosilla (mate mug - this may be the wrong word acutally...) full of the leaves. Then the moisten the leaves and insert the spoon/straw to drink from. Add some sugar and hot, but not boiling, water and you have a complete mate. It looks like a tiny bong. Wish I had a picture to prove this, but you'll have to take my word until I can prove it. When I tried the bong tea, it was incredibly strong tea, and I kept getting leaves in my mouth. Didn't really like it too much so I passed it on to the next victim. Jacob, my fellow Alabamian, told me that I wasn't supposed to move the straw. That's why I was getting leaves in my mouth. Oops. Better luck next time.
4. Parilla
Argentina is known for it's beef. They are the right up there with America in their consumption of been, but they are a bit more extreme. They eat intestines and such too. I went to my first Parilla (grill house) to try my first Argentine steak yesterday. Even though I do eat everything, I was not up so buying an intestine quite yet. Rest assured, I most definitely will at some point in the next three months. I had asked someone at the R2A office where a cheap one was. When I arrived, I was expecting a hole in the wall, but this place was NICE. For $50 (just over $12USD), I got bread, a chicken breast, mashed potatoes, fancy glass bottle of agua sin gas, and after dinner tea. My German friend, Luise, went with me and got bread, a steak, fries, same fancy glass of agua sin gas y café. We both had a hard time deciding between the steak and chicken so we cut the meat in half and shared. This included tip and strange Argentine need to charge for using silverware. I ordered off the daily menú (lunch special) to get this amazing deal. It was delicious and something everyone must try while in Argentina. Can't wait to go back!
5. Vino
I turned 21 about a week before leaving for BA, so I had to jump at the chance to take a wine tasting class since I can finally apply it back home. Last night was my first lesson and I learned so much. It was very clear I knew nothing about wine before. Honestly, at some points I knew embarrassingly little. For now, I will not share all of my knowledge about wine right now. I will save it to make a complete reference guide later for all to utilize and appreciate.
6. Fighting Temptation
I live about four blocks from the best shopping district in the city along la Avenida Santa Fe. It is amazing and I have fought every urge to enter any of the stores. I love window shopping, but to be honest, I don't need any clothes. As beautiful as everything is, I can find things I like just as much in the State. The money could be better spent going on a trip somewhere. I can replace clothes, but not an opportunity. My main goal is to buy a few souvenirs for myself and the people I am REALLY close to. Nada más. So, here's to hoping I never enter one of the stores. It will only make the temptation worse.
Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Monday, May 23, 2011
Overkill of the Senses
Two hours rest. Wake up at 4 am Saturday. Dad loses keys. Thirty minute search. Leave for airport with spare set of keys. Arrive at airport. Hug. Kiss on cheek. I love you. Bye. Check-in. Security. Down the terminal. Chat with Adam. Adam leaves for Costa Rica. Board plane. Take off. Coke. No snack. Land. Ride the tram. Waste $13 on a horrible breakfast. Go to gate. Sleep. Board anther plane. Take off. Rest. Wake-up. Stewardess is being nasty to people. Coke. No snack. Find out Continental charges for snacks now. Assholes. Sudoku. Land. Wander around DC International. Look for flight on departure board. Not there. Ask a United employee. D3. Exchange money. Unsuccessful. C12. Exchange money. Success. Talk to dad. Found his keys. Talk to brother. Still alive. Subway. Twelve-inch on Italian Herb and Cheese with lettuce tomatoes, pickles, olives, mayonnaise, mustard, salt, pepper, oil and vinegar. Go to gate. Meet a girl from New Jersey. She is traveling for two weeks. Has friend in BA. Talk to Joshy. Chat with girl. Facebook. Talk to Will. Miss him already. Board. First class has beds, not chairs. Assholes. Take off. Movies are on a circuit. Not on demand. Assholes. Watch a Natalie Portman movie. Depressing. The baby dies. People don't get along. Drink. With snack. Thank God. Same movie. Dinner. Gag. Same movie. Eyes cannot stay open. Lady next to me finally turns off her light. Thank God. Rest. Awful. Completely uncomfortable. Butt hurts. Get up. Use the restroom as an excuse to move around. Stretch. Go back. Rest. Dreams. Breakfast. I will vomit if I eat anything. Orange Juice. Landing. Finally. Nine-thirty am Sunday. Ouch. Pay $140 American tourist fee. Assholes. Customs. Baggage claim. Mine is there. HALLELtUJAH! Thirty minute wait line for baggage search. Almost there. Next. VIP line skips me. Forty-five bags. Sent to next line. Bitch in front of me cannot put her bags on her cart in an orderly manner. Lets mine fall to the ground. "Perdon". Nada. "Perdon". Nada. "Perdon". Shove. Por minuto! Exchange of "I don't give a sh*t about you" stares. Get my luggage. Find correct taxi company. See my name. Praise God. Go around to the back. Man takes my bags and leads me to the car. Tries to get a tip. Pretend not to understand. He forgives me for not understanding. Drive. Drive. Drive. Watch map carefully in case my driver is a whack job. Arrive at destination. Buzz. Nada. Buzz. Nada. Buzz. "Emily." Nada. Nada. "Emily." Panic. Nada. Buzz. "EMILY." I hear. Look up. Sole. Chico at door. Lets me in. Helps with bags. Leaves. I don't know him. Still don't. Tercero piso actually means fourth floor in American understanding. No elevator. Carry two bags up four floors. One weighs 40 lb. The other 50 lb. Still haven't seen Sole. Get to third floor. There she is. In we go. Sweaty. Out of breath. Hug. Kiss. Embarrassing. I haven't showered in over a day. Tour. Tiny but cute. Private room. Extra roommate. YAY! Put up cloths. Sleep. Three hours. Meet extra roommate. Silvi. Wander the streets of BA. Supermercado. Jamon. Yougurt. Leche. Pan. Maynesa. Queso. Queso de crema. Cereal. Jugo de naranja. Huevos. Go back. Chiquito bursts out the bathroom. "Hola, me llamo Juan!" Hug. Kiss. Hermanito de Sole. Sandwich. Eat. Configure internet. Shower. Clean. No longer stinky. Eight o'clock. Can't got to bed til 9. Try. Does not happen. Crash. Ms. Schaeffer comments my facebook at 4 am. Still love her. Sleep. Twelve hours. Awake. Eight am. Breakfast. Dress. Brush teeth. Leave. Fifteen minutes late. Oops. Class starts in 15 minutes. I am a rock star. Alone. Talking to teacher. In walks an American. Try to talk. Uncomfortable. In walks a German. More uncomfortable. Keep talking. Frenchman. Inglaterra. No more talking. The class is complete. Fun. Relaxed. Chill. United Nations. You're from Alabama too? What part? Huntsville. OMG. Break. Class. Break. Class. Lunch. Pizza. Amazingness on a crust. Orientation. Forgot all my papers. I'm a dummy. Question. No. They do not throw away their tp in BA. Embarrassing question. I am not in Peru. Sign up for wine tasting lessons. Start tomorrow. Leave with Louise. Walk. Tower of Babel. Cool. Walk home. Realize I really screwed up my morning walk. I went 20 blocks out of the way. No wonder I was late. Estupida. Arrive. Walk up four fights. Hola, Juan. Hola, Sole. Relax. Chau, Juan. Hug. Kiss. Dinner. Cheese. Crackers. Sandwich. Gummy bears. Facebook Will. Chat with Brett. He'll be here June 8th. Tarea. Shower. Organize self for tomorrow. Remember VIPs. Very Important Papers. No response. Maybe tomorrow. Blog. Crash.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Checking-in
I almost had a panic attack just now. I tried to check-in for my flight tomorrow online and thought Continental was going to charge me $200 for my luggage. After actually reading what the explanatory paragraph before where I checked the unnecessary box, I realized that I had qualified for one bag under 50 pounds. I did not get to choose between a 50 or a 70 pound limit.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Preparations or the lack thereof
I loathe packing. It is by far the worst thing about traveling. I guess some of my hate for packing can be directly linked back to my hate for cleaning and organizing, but that is irrelevant. Right now I am resentful because packing reminds me of all the things that are going to go wrong over the next three months. I cannot pack like a normal person. I have to prepare for the worse because it will happen. If you didn't already know, I am a magnet for those terrible things that have a one in a million chance of occurring. Yeah. They ALL happen to me. If you still are in disbelief, let's recap my adventures in Peru to prove how I have terrible things happen to me.
1. My plane from Mobile to Houston was delayed because of rain. Then my flight from Houston to Lima was delayed five hours due to repairs. Thank God they didn't make us take that plane. I'm not sure if I would have gotten on. But, it still majorly sucked that ISA had said don't arrive after midnight or else you have to taxi your own way to the hotel and our flight wasn't getting there til 3am. I immediately went into panic mode and tried to pre-plan my conversation with the Peruvian taxi driver. Thankfully they took pity on us and we ISA picked us up anyways.
2. Upon the 3am arrival in Lima I was thrown into the most horrific of circumstances. My suitcase had not arrived. The lady working in the baggage claim tried to tell me that some man with a red suitcase with black straps had accidentally taken mine, but I assured her my bright, fluorescent orange suitcase without any straps could not have been mistaken for anything other than itself. Thank God I had bought flight insurance and packed a ton of stuff into my carry on in case my luggage had been stolen. I always thought buying the insurance was a jinx proof thing to do. Whenever someone is prepared for emergencies, nothing ever happens, but not to me. I had to go the entire three days in Lima without my luggage and spent exorbitant amounts of time shopping while everyone else got to see the Pacific Ocean. Oh, well. It reappeared once I got to Cusco. Not much missing either.
3. You wouldn't think it was possible to lose something between the taxi and the front door of the house, but my wallet sure did play the disappearing act as if it were the World Champion. I pulled out my wallet to pay my share of the fare and never saw it again. As mentioned above, I went to Peru overly prepared for emergency. I had a file in my room containing all of my credit card numbers and the numbers to call. All I had to find was a calling card. I also had an additional wallet in my room with an emergency only credit card. Yes. I was crazily prepared for emergency.
4. Unfortunately this crazily preparedness only applied to money. Not health. I caught two nasty stomach viruses along the way. The first one was right before my trip into the Amazon jungle. My coordinator made me go to the doctor which was a strange experience. Let's just say no doctor in the States would find it necessary to place the stethoscope underneath my bra to listen to my heartbeat.
5. I lived in what is best described as my host family's guest house. It was literally just one building with my bedroom and a bathroom (no door separating the two), but it definitely led to some crazy circumstances. Now, to get to the room, I had to take the outside exit from the kitchen and through the "courtyard." My host mom had told me to listen for the click of the kitchen door closing. I assumed the same went for my bedroom. Nope. The doorknob did rip off though. Oops. Then, some how I managed to severely break the toilet. Water was coming out the bottom and leaking all over my dirty clothes. I was walking in a puddle every time I entered my bathroom. Not to self, there is such thing as flushing too hard. My host mom had given me a heater to keep me warm. She said do not use it for more than thirty minutes. Exactly thirty minutes go by, I unplug it and the outlet was melted. Later on I realized the extremeness of how weak the power is in South America. Apparently it is a bad idea to run the lights, hot water and heater at the same time. It blows a fuse. I was just trying to prevent the shivers when I got out of the shower.
6. The cat shit in my bed, and I slept in it. This happened as a result of blowing the electricity so the handy man had my door open and my stomach viruses. I couldn't smell anything and it wasn't until I saw the the brown stuff on my shirt the next day that something shitty had happened. I still can't wear that shirt.
As you can see, I have to assume that my things are going to be stolen or lost at some point this summer. There's no way around it since I can't jinx proof myself. I also have to assume that my clothes will either disappear in the wash or be permanently damaged for unforeseeable reasons. Obviously, I still haven't packed and don't plan on starting tonight, but as my dear friend Rafe told me tonight "I still got 40 some odd hours."
1. My plane from Mobile to Houston was delayed because of rain. Then my flight from Houston to Lima was delayed five hours due to repairs. Thank God they didn't make us take that plane. I'm not sure if I would have gotten on. But, it still majorly sucked that ISA had said don't arrive after midnight or else you have to taxi your own way to the hotel and our flight wasn't getting there til 3am. I immediately went into panic mode and tried to pre-plan my conversation with the Peruvian taxi driver. Thankfully they took pity on us and we ISA picked us up anyways.
2. Upon the 3am arrival in Lima I was thrown into the most horrific of circumstances. My suitcase had not arrived. The lady working in the baggage claim tried to tell me that some man with a red suitcase with black straps had accidentally taken mine, but I assured her my bright, fluorescent orange suitcase without any straps could not have been mistaken for anything other than itself. Thank God I had bought flight insurance and packed a ton of stuff into my carry on in case my luggage had been stolen. I always thought buying the insurance was a jinx proof thing to do. Whenever someone is prepared for emergencies, nothing ever happens, but not to me. I had to go the entire three days in Lima without my luggage and spent exorbitant amounts of time shopping while everyone else got to see the Pacific Ocean. Oh, well. It reappeared once I got to Cusco. Not much missing either.
3. You wouldn't think it was possible to lose something between the taxi and the front door of the house, but my wallet sure did play the disappearing act as if it were the World Champion. I pulled out my wallet to pay my share of the fare and never saw it again. As mentioned above, I went to Peru overly prepared for emergency. I had a file in my room containing all of my credit card numbers and the numbers to call. All I had to find was a calling card. I also had an additional wallet in my room with an emergency only credit card. Yes. I was crazily prepared for emergency.
4. Unfortunately this crazily preparedness only applied to money. Not health. I caught two nasty stomach viruses along the way. The first one was right before my trip into the Amazon jungle. My coordinator made me go to the doctor which was a strange experience. Let's just say no doctor in the States would find it necessary to place the stethoscope underneath my bra to listen to my heartbeat.
5. I lived in what is best described as my host family's guest house. It was literally just one building with my bedroom and a bathroom (no door separating the two), but it definitely led to some crazy circumstances. Now, to get to the room, I had to take the outside exit from the kitchen and through the "courtyard." My host mom had told me to listen for the click of the kitchen door closing. I assumed the same went for my bedroom. Nope. The doorknob did rip off though. Oops. Then, some how I managed to severely break the toilet. Water was coming out the bottom and leaking all over my dirty clothes. I was walking in a puddle every time I entered my bathroom. Not to self, there is such thing as flushing too hard. My host mom had given me a heater to keep me warm. She said do not use it for more than thirty minutes. Exactly thirty minutes go by, I unplug it and the outlet was melted. Later on I realized the extremeness of how weak the power is in South America. Apparently it is a bad idea to run the lights, hot water and heater at the same time. It blows a fuse. I was just trying to prevent the shivers when I got out of the shower.
6. The cat shit in my bed, and I slept in it. This happened as a result of blowing the electricity so the handy man had my door open and my stomach viruses. I couldn't smell anything and it wasn't until I saw the the brown stuff on my shirt the next day that something shitty had happened. I still can't wear that shirt.
As you can see, I have to assume that my things are going to be stolen or lost at some point this summer. There's no way around it since I can't jinx proof myself. I also have to assume that my clothes will either disappear in the wash or be permanently damaged for unforeseeable reasons. Obviously, I still haven't packed and don't plan on starting tonight, but as my dear friend Rafe told me tonight "I still got 40 some odd hours."
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