URUGUAY
Montevideo
Punte del Este
Colonia
MENDOZA
aka Wine Country
MENDOZA
aka Wine Country
BARILOCHE
the Switzerland of the South
IGUAZU FALLS
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
Monday, May 30, 2011
Goals
I am a believer in setting goals and accomplishing them at all costs. These are the places I MUST see before I leave Argentina. I will Raman my life away if need be.
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
¡Besos!
La porteña Emilia
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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