Argentina

April 10, 2008
Buenos Aires

This weekend I will be heading to Colonia, Uruguay. This small town is on the other side of the mouth of the River Plate - the border between Argentina and Uruguay. I never expected to be visiting such an obscure country so soon, but the change of scenery from the hustle-bustle of Buenos Aires will be nice.
This city never sleeps - there are always people on the streets - lots of them. The buses ad subways are always packed - there also seems to be an unusual amount of dog shit on the streets here. It is only a matter of time until my chic, columbia hiking boots are displaced from their ivory tower by an angry mass of feces.
I've spent the last few days attending school, aimlessly roaming the streets, and getting the tourist activities of this town out of the way. A force beyond my control compels me to visit cathedrals, historical markers, and graves. I think it was how I was raised.
The other night I went to Palermo SoHo with the three Germans from my school. This is a nice part of town with artsy bars, boutiques, and restaurants. I ordered a 16 peso item (about $5) in the vino tinto section - expecting a glass- I received a bottle!
The Germans, of course, drank beer. I kept pace with them and our tongues became looser. Our conversation meandered from light topics to heavier ones, eventually I found myself asking them about WW II - a topic most Germans are not eager to discuss (for obvious reasons). I have never met a nationality more ashamed of its' past. I understand their uneasiness, but I want to know more about their perspective. Perhaps this is a topic best left alone for now.
We continued the night at another bar where I convinced the Germans to drink "Irish Car Bombs" - I watched from the sidelines because of my gluten allergy. America III - Germany 0. I do not think they will trust my beverage choices again.
The night concluded with a 3 dollar taxi ride to my side of town. I am always convinced I am being driven in circles while in a taxi - so I tried (through my broken spanish and relaxed inhibitions) to let the taxi driver know THAT I KNEW where we were and where we were going. I just came off as an ass.
They next morning I awoke to a delightful sensation of seismic activity in my cerebellum.

Mother H

4-8-08
Buenos Aires, Spain

Spanish school started for me the other day - quite fun and rewarding. Spanish always seemed extraneous in school - a bit ridiculous considering that more than half the population in my hometown speaks Spanish and Mexico is about 200 miles from there as well. I think my failure to see the practicality/necessity of learning another language had to do with the kids I was surrounded with - why learn another language when we've got everything right here in the big, bad USA?
The school here in BA is a hodgepodge of nationalities - japanese, french, few americans, canadians, and germans. There are many germans. I'm not sure what it is about this nation that breeds travelers. You can go to any known destination on this planet that offers some rewarding experience and find a German there sometimes with a camper.
My class was made up of myself and two Germans Jergen and Julia. Julia left because she was too advanced, so now it is just Jergen and I. Most of our 4-hour class entails the teacher rattling off spanish while Jergen and I apprehensively nod our heads. I think this is known as the "immersion technique" or "spanish water-boarding," not sure though.
The class is especially difficult for Jergen because the teachers speak english when they're not rapid-firing spanish at us. So Jergen must translate Spanish to English to German. I try to help by falling back on my second best of communication - body language. With raised eyebrows and spastic arms I master the babel of the world. German - Easy. Chinese - not a problem. Latin -who said it was dead?
I saw a woman have her purse ripped form her arms at an sidewalk cafe yesterday. It was very crowded and the thief simply ran by and snatched it. A man at an adjacent table immediately sprang into action and chased the thief - but no luck. Everyone seemed shocked- I thought the "lonely planet" said this was common here!
I've really got to stop looking at this book for anything more than places to sleep or locations of museums.
Julia and I went to see the district known as "La Boca" - the art district. It has colorfully painted houses, artisans selling crafts, and one street where travelers can get sucked into an orgy of tango, beer, and poor musicianship. There are open cafes with fully dressed, dancing tango couples accompanied by guitarists, squeezebox players, and some of the worst singers I've heard this side of the equator. Maybe it was an off-day.
I bumped into my first Americans in La Boca. A group of about 15, twenty-something, FRAT BOYS. WOW! What the hell were they doing here and how did I find them? They were being stalked by the tango-hawkers. A female dancer grabbed one of the Delta Gamma Rays, popped a fedora on his head, and assumed the classic tango pose with him. This set off a frenzy of picture taking from the fellow Bros.
I couldn't get away fast enough.

Mother H

P.S. The bus system rocks my world here- you can ride anywhere in town for $.30.

P.P.S. Check out the photos here - http://www.travellerspoint.com/photos/gallery/users/Sabrosa684/

4-6-08
Buenos Aires, Argentina

After taking a pay cut at my recording studio job I decided to take a long-anticipated trip to South America.

Months ago I had planned to take this trip in September '08 coinciding with the expiration of my duplex lease. But after I got the axe at work I decided to take the trip now rather than wait 4 months.

So here I am. In Buenos Aires, the "Paris of South America." From what little I've seen of the monstrous city of 13 million - this title holds true.

I arrived at the highly modern, glass-walled airport, hopped on a lovely (and cheap) air-conditioned bus and made my way to the city center. Then I continued my journey on foot to the Recoleta/Palermo district where I am renting a room in an apartment for $120/wk. I overestimated my endurance and underestimated my distance. Arriving sweaty and unaware of the day of the week, I greeted Susana the owner of the apartment, a 60 -year old lifelong porteno and abstract painter. She introduced me to my apartment roommate Irene - a 60+ year old Swiss traveller learning Spanish in the Capital. We spoke in broken English/Spanish.

I hopped a bus back to the micro-centro - bought a lighter, two different maps, bottle of water and watched parrots roost in the trees of Plaza de San Martin -walked aimlessly.

I'm staying in Recoleta/Palermo - the second most expensive part of Buenos Aires. Already I regret my decision. Hundreds of ruddy-faced, ex-officio-ed 20-somethings crowd the streets seeking the "true Argentinian" experience. I love to meet fellow travellers, but not be surrounded by them. I believe I will change locations in the city in the coming week.

I met an Australian hipster and an Argentenian gynecologist at a bar. They told me my lonely planet guidebook had failed me. They were right. The bar was filled with nothing but English speakers. God Dammit.

I start Spanish school tomorrow - 4 hours/day, 5 days/wk. for $120/wk. I'm hoping a couple of months of this will prepare me for further travels into Uruguay, Paraguay, Bolivia, Peru, Colombia, and Venezuela. If I can last that long here.

Mother H

P.S. It is surprising how far a few key-words and super-intensive gesturing can take one.