Started off my morning by rinsing off the previous evenings festivities. Couldn’t go to church looking and smelling like a bum. That’s right, Beto was going to church. Somewhere I haven’t been in… I can’t remember that last time I attended church. I was going to a family baptism. Young Ignacio (Tato’s cousin), born just a couple months ago, proclaimed his faith through several hand gestures and crying techniques that he would like the become part of the Catholic Church’s family.
If I could communicate with him, I would advice him to hold off for a while and think about what he was getting himself into, there are many sacrifices he was going to make. It’s a large commitment; getting up early on Sundays, singing, sitting, standing, then sitting, standing, more sitting, oh then kneeling, and then more standing. With more singing sprinkling on top, with a couple readings and prayers mixed in, as well as my favorite part, wine and a cookie! But it doesn’t end there. There are the holiday masses, which can last hours. Classes, meetings, bible study, volunteer work, and worst of all, confessing your sins! But of course, I cannot relay this to young Ignacio, seeing as how the only thing he is capable of doing at this point in his life, is sleeping, shitting, and crying.
So I get up early, to support Ignacio, only to arrive late, and miss the Baptism ceremony. I guess I have become truly Argentinean, showing up so late, I miss practically everything! What we didn’t miss (mom your going to love this) is the ride back to Ignacio’s house for a Saturday afternoon asado! There was delicious meat, bread and wine. After we had our fill, and being the last to arrive at the church, we thought it only appropriate to be the first to leave. I didn’t mind, we had a train and bus ride awaiting us to get home before the start of the BULLS game.
Of course, Nocioni gets no love here, seems like Ginobli is the only Argentine in the NBA, because they did not televise the game…again. I had to go (I enjoy watching games there) to The Alamo, the only American bar that I have found in the whole city. I found 2 other bulls fans, and one Miami, we sat at the bar and enjoyed the whole game. It’s always fun to have at least one opposing fan, because u can heckle him and be heckled. It provides for a healthy atmosphere and makes the game that much more exciting and nerve wrecking. Of course, it’s always better to come out victorious, which the Bulls did in the first game of the opening round verse our rival, the Miami “cry baby” heat.
After an exciting and emotional game, I was drained. I was overcome with such joy from our huge victory that I wondered home in the rain, completely unaware that I was getting soaked. I cooked myself some delicious spaghetti, and passed out. I slept thru my alarm, phone calls, and people rushing in and out of the apartment. I didn’t get up till 1 in the morning. I debated if I should just remain in bed and get up early, and of course I choose not too. I put on my dusty dancing shoes and headed out to my first birthday party at night. (Tato’s b-day party started at noon).
I had no idea who the girl was; I was going with some Argentines who knew her. I have to admit. It was very interesting, not what I was expecting at all. There was a live band (prolly just some friends who offered to play for free because they were pretty bad), they played a rendition of Bob Marley, I Shot the Sheriff, but played the cords of a hard punk rock bad, kids were moshing! Haha. There was also food, drinks, and for the first time, ugly girls. But we didn’t let the bad music, ok food, and ugly girls let us down. We soon sifted through the thru the ugly ones and find the pretty ones hiding off to the side. We attached the bait to our poles, cast, and only waited for a couple of minutes before we felt some nibbling. Then a bite and a pull. We had nabbed it. We reeled her in, and her friends followed. For the next four hours we chatted and danced with girls who I thought were younger than me. Only to realize at four in the morning when they wheeled out the cake, which had a huge bright flaming candle read 28. I couldn’t believe it. We were talking to the birthday girl’s best friends, so I put two and two together and realized there couldn’t be that much disparity in age. And I was right, I asked how old, and was shocked to find they were all either 28 or 29. And as usual, I lied about my age, but only to the max. I had already let it slip that I was a studying abroad, so I can’t go over 22. Maybe I should come up with a new lie. Because when I asked how old they thought I was, (I almost peed myself, because no one has ever thought this) they said no fewer than 25.
Last night taught me a couple of things; I'm no longer a student, I am a recruiter for an American Marketing company looking for young, single, good looking Argentinean women who want to make good money. I am thinking of creating and buying fake business cards. Sounds like a good idea!!! Last night also taught me that techno is probably the most popular music down here, which sucks, because I felt like I was back at U of I with all the frat boys fist pumping and chewing on toxic glow sticks. The last thing last night taught me was that nothing starts till about 2 in the morning on weekends, and goes till the sun comes up. I was exhausted by the time we left. We had inadvertently waited out the storm.
When getting ready for bed, earlier events in the day, such as the baptism and Bulls game felt like a distant memory. Something that had happened weeks ago, but when recapping and reflecting on the good and bad decisions I made throughout, I realized I had lived them no more than 14 hours ago. And so 2 days in one concluded.
(the description of offering Ignacio advice is totally false, I know this is blasphemy, but it adds a different element to the story which I liked… so deal!!)
Sunday, April 22, 2007
TO THE HEAVENS AND BEYOND
Let me start off by apologizing for the blog “Sights and Sounds of Sin Sity.” I wanted to post it before I left for spring break, and because of that, there was little editing and no pictures, and therefore, incomplete!
TO THE HEAVENS AND BEYOND:
Spring Break could not have come at a better time. I had already been in Buenos Aires for about a month in a half. I had only traveled twice. Once to Bariloche, San Martin de los Andes (you can read about that trip below), and Uruguay. And I had had it up to my ears with filling out forms and school work. So after the first full week of school, were I endured 15 horrific hours of boring lecture, spring break was a godsend! It seemed like everyone and there mother was traveling. And those that were not had a legit reason, there mothers were coming to visit them.
It was like everyone assimilated into Argentine culture within weeks…but not this guy. I know where I come from, and I know what basketball means! I decided to forgo the first three days of SB to stay in BA and watch the final four and the final. How could I leave now? It was the first time 2 # 1teams and 2 # 2teams made it to the final four since like 1980. And each game could make or break my pride and dignity. Every year I play mom, and every year she beats me. So this year I vowed on my first born child I wouldn’t lose! But as soon as the all the excitement was over and I got to keep my first born child, I took a cab to the bus stop and took a 12 hour trip to Cordoba (middle of Argentina) to meet Nickole and Claire (and no grandma neither one is my girlfriend). It would be my first time in a hostel. I was pretty nervous. I would be rooming with 7 other strangers, and I hate people who snore. But it turned out to be ok. We went to a club for a live band performance, which was completely insanely awesome and at the same time annoying. The place was SO PACKED, no joke, you couldn’t bring your drink from your side to your mouth without spilling. The whole place was like a mosh pit. Because Cordoba was on holiday, no one was there, and it was raining cats and dogs, so we decided to change bus tickets and leave early for La Cumbre. A small mountainous town about 2.5 hours north. (Dave ur prolly the only one that knows what I’m talking about but…) grandma Maria would have def. yelled at me, because I sat on the stairs of the bus in front with the bus driver. Now before you jump to conclusions, let me explain. I did buy a ticket for a seat, and I did get one that wasn’t the stairs! But I fear it is common practice to sell standing tickets. At first I didn’t budge, I wasn’t about to stand for 2.5 hours, that’s about how much sleep I got the night before. But when I awoke an hour into the trip, there was an old lady standing next to me, and you know how I’m a sucker for the elderly. So I gave up my seat, and opted to sit on the steps instead of standing for the next 1.5 hours. Thank you grandma Maria and Edna for teaching me well! I was disgusted when I woke up to find this old lady standing there while other youthful people were sitting awake and aware that she was standing. I wanted to shout at them. I know I did the right thing.
We arrived early afternoon in La Cumbre. Didn’t even settle into our hostel before the manager asked us if we wanted to go paragliding, and there was no doubt I did. I love doing anything that my parents disapprove of; it’s almost what I live for. It’s more or less a lifetime goal!!! Haha. So there I was, 45 min after arriving, strapped to a large parachute running off the top of a mountain only to be flying thousands of feet in the sky. I didn’t even have time to get nervous. It’s definitely not as dangerous as people make it out to be. In fact it was very peaceful and relaxing. I even got to take pictures while in the air and enjoy the magnificent view. But there was this annoying little device that constantly beeped, and depending on wind strength it would beep every couple seconds or repeatedly very quickly. I don’t know what it was telling the instructor, because he never did anything
differently that I could tell. I think it was just there to remind me that I was at the mercy of the wind gods. And that they could send me where ever they wanted at any moment. And with the jagged rocks staring me in the face below, I respected the wind gods’ strength and allowed my heart to skip a beat when the wind and beeping noise picked up and we got tossed around like a rag doll. It was about a twenty minute experience, because they say anything after that will induce motion sickness. It was quite expensive though, but well worth it. It was a nice warm up to skydiving in Rosario in a couple of weeks! Since I was already floating the heavens, I thought it only fitting to visit Jesus himself.
Another tourist attraction in town is a giant Jesus statue. (I don’t think that’s blasphemy, but if it is, sorry God!). It over looks the entire town atop a mountain. A lot of people make the trek up the winding dirt path. I think every poor city in the world should invest in one of these. For a small town, there wasn’t a single bad neighborhood, and I don’t know where revenue came from, because there wasn’t THAT much tourism running through the place, at least not enough to construct the homes I was seeing. Call me crazy, but I think it had something to do with the Jesus statue over looking the whole town with His arms wide open. But then what is Rio de Janeiro excuse? Anyways, I stayed on top of the mountain till sunset. If you haven’t noticed by now, I have become obsessed with photographing sunsets. I find the colors intense and provocative. They evoke such passionate emotions, sunsets are very moving. I think they are some of Mother nature’s most beautiful creations. And with the scenery that I am surrounded by, it’s hard not to take advantage. I think I snapped close to a hundred photos in 10 minutes.
The girls and I were exhausted by days end. We had very little sleep the night before and the day’s activities created and used a lot of adrenaline. A good dinner with good wine did the trick, we past out for the rest of the night. Partying would be put on hold or the moment.
La Cumbre would have been incomplete without horseback riding. Our guide picked us up at the hostel with some shabby looking horses. I was a little worried they might die on our three hour trek. They looked sickly, and like they hadn’t eaten in days. But our guide was more worried about us completing the trail then the horses. The style of saddle is very different from that of Mexico. I felt like I was almost riding bare back. The saddle was thin and hard as rock. You have no idea how much pain I would be suffering through for the next week.
But our guide was awesome. He rode behind us with a whip, and kept whipping our horses. At first it was extremely frightening, because I forgot how big and powerful horses can be no matter how deathly they appear. I almost fell off several times. After the fist hour I FINALLY got the hang of it. I didn’t need the guide whipping my horse anymore. I pulled a branch off from a nearby tree and started whipping him myself. If they were cows to chase down you better believe we would have gotten all of them. We were flying. We raced cars, and I blew them out. We were going at least 30 mph. I preferred galloping to trotting. I had very little control when he trotted and that’s when
I felt most likely to get tossed off. It was a lot of fun. I felt like a real cowboy, or as they are known in Argentina, a real gaucho.
Saturday night at the hostel we shared a wonderful asado filled with stories, laughs and fun. The food was spectacular, and the wine was even better. But best of all, we meet some great people. Most were from Rosario. A city about 5 hours north of Buenos Aires. The next day we shared Easter Sunday brunch together. We swapped emails, and all promised each other that we would meet up soon, either in Rosario or Buenos Aires. Semana Santa was coming to a close, but not before I shelled out the extra cash and bought a ticket on an overnight bus back to Buenos Aires that featured a late evening dinner, movie, as well as a semi bed (which reclined almost into a bed, and very spacious), as well as a movie, and breakfast when we woke up in the morning. I won’t travel long distances any other way from now on. It was a 12 hour trip, put with all the accommodations it felt like a 4 hour ride! Semana Santa was extremely fun, but I missed the fam. It was the first Easter I haven’t spent at home…I think. But no worries, I was only homesick for about 10 minutes!
Choi.
TO THE HEAVENS AND BEYOND:
Spring Break could not have come at a better time. I had already been in Buenos Aires for about a month in a half. I had only traveled twice. Once to Bariloche, San Martin de los Andes (you can read about that trip below), and Uruguay. And I had had it up to my ears with filling out forms and school work. So after the first full week of school, were I endured 15 horrific hours of boring lecture, spring break was a godsend! It seemed like everyone and there mother was traveling. And those that were not had a legit reason, there mothers were coming to visit them.
It was like everyone assimilated into Argentine culture within weeks…but not this guy. I know where I come from, and I know what basketball means! I decided to forgo the first three days of SB to stay in BA and watch the final four and the final. How could I leave now? It was the first time 2 # 1teams and 2 # 2teams made it to the final four since like 1980. And each game could make or break my pride and dignity. Every year I play mom, and every year she beats me. So this year I vowed on my first born child I wouldn’t lose! But as soon as the all the excitement was over and I got to keep my first born child, I took a cab to the bus stop and took a 12 hour trip to Cordoba (middle of Argentina) to meet Nickole and Claire (and no grandma neither one is my girlfriend). It would be my first time in a hostel. I was pretty nervous. I would be rooming with 7 other strangers, and I hate people who snore. But it turned out to be ok. We went to a club for a live band performance, which was completely insanely awesome and at the same time annoying. The place was SO PACKED, no joke, you couldn’t bring your drink from your side to your mouth without spilling. The whole place was like a mosh pit. Because Cordoba was on holiday, no one was there, and it was raining cats and dogs, so we decided to change bus tickets and leave early for La Cumbre. A small mountainous town about 2.5 hours north. (Dave ur prolly the only one that knows what I’m talking about but…) grandma Maria would have def. yelled at me, because I sat on the stairs of the bus in front with the bus driver. Now before you jump to conclusions, let me explain. I did buy a ticket for a seat, and I did get one that wasn’t the stairs! But I fear it is common practice to sell standing tickets. At first I didn’t budge, I wasn’t about to stand for 2.5 hours, that’s about how much sleep I got the night before. But when I awoke an hour into the trip, there was an old lady standing next to me, and you know how I’m a sucker for the elderly. So I gave up my seat, and opted to sit on the steps instead of standing for the next 1.5 hours. Thank you grandma Maria and Edna for teaching me well! I was disgusted when I woke up to find this old lady standing there while other youthful people were sitting awake and aware that she was standing. I wanted to shout at them. I know I did the right thing.
We arrived early afternoon in La Cumbre. Didn’t even settle into our hostel before the manager asked us if we wanted to go paragliding, and there was no doubt I did. I love doing anything that my parents disapprove of; it’s almost what I live for. It’s more or less a lifetime goal!!! Haha. So there I was, 45 min after arriving, strapped to a large parachute running off the top of a mountain only to be flying thousands of feet in the sky. I didn’t even have time to get nervous. It’s definitely not as dangerous as people make it out to be. In fact it was very peaceful and relaxing. I even got to take pictures while in the air and enjoy the magnificent view. But there was this annoying little device that constantly beeped, and depending on wind strength it would beep every couple seconds or repeatedly very quickly. I don’t know what it was telling the instructor, because he never did anything
differently that I could tell. I think it was just there to remind me that I was at the mercy of the wind gods. And that they could send me where ever they wanted at any moment. And with the jagged rocks staring me in the face below, I respected the wind gods’ strength and allowed my heart to skip a beat when the wind and beeping noise picked up and we got tossed around like a rag doll. It was about a twenty minute experience, because they say anything after that will induce motion sickness. It was quite expensive though, but well worth it. It was a nice warm up to skydiving in Rosario in a couple of weeks! Since I was already floating the heavens, I thought it only fitting to visit Jesus himself.
Another tourist attraction in town is a giant Jesus statue. (I don’t think that’s blasphemy, but if it is, sorry God!). It over looks the entire town atop a mountain. A lot of people make the trek up the winding dirt path. I think every poor city in the world should invest in one of these. For a small town, there wasn’t a single bad neighborhood, and I don’t know where revenue came from, because there wasn’t THAT much tourism running through the place, at least not enough to construct the homes I was seeing. Call me crazy, but I think it had something to do with the Jesus statue over looking the whole town with His arms wide open. But then what is Rio de Janeiro excuse? Anyways, I stayed on top of the mountain till sunset. If you haven’t noticed by now, I have become obsessed with photographing sunsets. I find the colors intense and provocative. They evoke such passionate emotions, sunsets are very moving. I think they are some of Mother nature’s most beautiful creations. And with the scenery that I am surrounded by, it’s hard not to take advantage. I think I snapped close to a hundred photos in 10 minutes.The girls and I were exhausted by days end. We had very little sleep the night before and the day’s activities created and used a lot of adrenaline. A good dinner with good wine did the trick, we past out for the rest of the night. Partying would be put on hold or the moment.
La Cumbre would have been incomplete without horseback riding. Our guide picked us up at the hostel with some shabby looking horses. I was a little worried they might die on our three hour trek. They looked sickly, and like they hadn’t eaten in days. But our guide was more worried about us completing the trail then the horses. The style of saddle is very different from that of Mexico. I felt like I was almost riding bare back. The saddle was thin and hard as rock. You have no idea how much pain I would be suffering through for the next week.
But our guide was awesome. He rode behind us with a whip, and kept whipping our horses. At first it was extremely frightening, because I forgot how big and powerful horses can be no matter how deathly they appear. I almost fell off several times. After the fist hour I FINALLY got the hang of it. I didn’t need the guide whipping my horse anymore. I pulled a branch off from a nearby tree and started whipping him myself. If they were cows to chase down you better believe we would have gotten all of them. We were flying. We raced cars, and I blew them out. We were going at least 30 mph. I preferred galloping to trotting. I had very little control when he trotted and that’s when
I felt most likely to get tossed off. It was a lot of fun. I felt like a real cowboy, or as they are known in Argentina, a real gaucho.Saturday night at the hostel we shared a wonderful asado filled with stories, laughs and fun. The food was spectacular, and the wine was even better. But best of all, we meet some great people. Most were from Rosario. A city about 5 hours north of Buenos Aires. The next day we shared Easter Sunday brunch together. We swapped emails, and all promised each other that we would meet up soon, either in Rosario or Buenos Aires. Semana Santa was coming to a close, but not before I shelled out the extra cash and bought a ticket on an overnight bus back to Buenos Aires that featured a late evening dinner, movie, as well as a semi bed (which reclined almost into a bed, and very spacious), as well as a movie, and breakfast when we woke up in the morning. I won’t travel long distances any other way from now on. It was a 12 hour trip, put with all the accommodations it felt like a 4 hour ride! Semana Santa was extremely fun, but I missed the fam. It was the first Easter I haven’t spent at home…I think. But no worries, I was only homesick for about 10 minutes!
Choi.
Monday, April 16, 2007
ZZZipi
As I sit, beer in hand, back where it all started, I can’t help but have mixed feelings. This is the third time I have dined at Barbaro. But the first, where I wait with anticipation and fear. Because you see, the first lunch I had in Buenos Aires, was at this very same place. And it was here that I had the most wonderfully delicious steak sandwich of my life! The sauce they used on the tender and perfectly cooked slab of meat melted on my taste buds. The melted cheese on top oozed over the sides onto the bread making it look picture perfect. The lettuce was even fresh and delicious. The fries were greasy and salty just the way McDonalds makes them back home. And to top it off, a cold corona with lime. It put me in a state of euphoria for the rest of the afternoon. When lunch time rolled around everyday for the next 2 weeks I longed for my delicious Zipi! I speak of this Zipi like a starving cast away that hasn’t eaten in weeks. But no joke, that’s how good it was. But then the temptation got the best of me, and I just happened to find myself in the neighborhood of Barbaro during lunch time one sunny afternoon. The gravitational force pulling me in was stronger than any other universal force combined. My mouth began to salivate. My legs and feet where moving in the direction of the sandwich without my mind even telling it to. The body knew what the mind needed. But to make a long story short and to get to the point of why I'm writing this… the second sandwich did not live up to the hype. I was completely unsatisfied. The sandwich was nothing like I remembered it. And maybe it was my fault that it didn’t taste as great the second time. The hopes, expectations, and the way I had put it up on this pedestal, I think I might have over hyped it. Even the corona couldn’t save this lunch. So here I sit, writing, wearily waiting for my waiter to bring my order. I have tried to convince myself that it won’t be that good. Maybe that way when it is ‘rico’, I will be pleasantly ‘not’ surprised and enjoy it that much more! The time has come, my throat is dry, my hands are cramping, and my heart is pounding, my stomach aches and groans, my eyes judge. It looks good. The first bit… excellent! The first fry… excellent! A gulp of corona with lime… eureka. Lunch was a success. The zipi is back!!!
Monday, April 2, 2007
Sights and Sounds of Sin Sity
Do not think of this next entry as a knock on the city of Buenos Aires. Think of it more as a real insight to what every major city in the world possess but doesn’t mention in the travel guides, brochures, articles, and pictures they post to lure people from all over the world to visit.
La Boca
I was invited by friends to site see the city, and we chose to visit a very touristy area called the La Boca, near the river on the southeast side of town. Not an area you want to be caught walking around in at night. But none the less a very touristy place for many reasons, there is a soccer stadium in the center, which hosts the number one soccer team in the city this season. Another reason is the outdoor tango dancers that liter the street performing for passing shoppers and onlookers. It also features a little market square that sells the usual; necklaces, skirts, shirts, hats, knifes, mate cups (a traditional Argentina tea drink), and little things to bring home that will remind you of the La Boca later. I took my neighborhood 152 bus to the end of the line and walked another 6 blocks to get there. Let me start by saying, it was not worth the trip. The pictures professionals have taken to entice travels to visit over glamorize the whole thing. (so I guess they did their job, a little too well). I was not impressed at all. In fact it almost seemed liked some poor families back in the day got together and decided that if they painted their houses (cardboard boxes more like it) strange and different colors that people would come and take notice, and then use this attraction to sell things, and make money to raise their family. Well, they may have been poor, but they were smart, because it worked like a charm. The area is actually small, about 4 blocks in total, and every iron shack is painted green, red, blue, and yellow, with these huge, weird, fictional character dolls on balconies and street corners. We sat down at an outdoor café where we were immediately entertained by two tango dancers. It is a very passionate and difficult dance. I’m pretty sure if I attempted it, I would end up stepping on my partners toes a lot, as well as forgetting to catching my partner when she dipped, leading to her immediate concussion as her head would bang the ground! As usual, since we were in La Boca, everything was extremely over priced, the food was very good, but they charged for my friends sitting with me who didn’t order anything. I could definitely understand this, say if we were eating at Charlie Trotters, but this place was NO WHERE NEAR that quality. They were a glorified café at best because of the location they vended from. I was extremely frustrated with the way things were going. I was glad when the whole excursion ended about 30 min. later, when everyone had had their fill of pictures, food, shopping and site seeing.
Lack of better words
While walking about the city for whatever reason; to get to class, eat lunch or dinner (I never eat breakfast), site seeing, going out at night with friends, and believe it or not going out for a relaxing jog thru parks and different neighborhoods, one cannot help but notice, for lack of a better word, the terribly disturbing things that goes on. I’ll start with the dog owners, and lack there of. For some odd reason I get the feeling it might be illegal to pick up dog shit. Its everywhere, its like walking through a city with landmines, but instead of exploding, you smell the rest of the day. I walk thru the city playing hopscotch. And occasionally, I end up cursing very loudly in English when I lose this stinky game.
Who ever planned out the city should be dug and up and killed again. My theory of city planning is very similar to the American job hunting commercials. I think it was a bunch of monkeys in a room using crayons. People drew them a circle in the middle of a vast white sheet of paper and then let them go to work. There isn’t a street in the city that runs straight for more than a couple blocks. It has to turn, or get cut off at some point. Looking at an aerial map of the city would remind anyone of a spider web… on crack. Getting from one point to another on foot involves many streets, patients, and a lot of luck. I often have to refer to my Giat’e. Its my city guide, and the funny part about it is, people that have been living here all there lives still use it. At first I refused to carry it around. Never admitting defeat when I was lost, always claiming I could get my friends to the promise land. But when people quickly started disserting me, I swallowed my pride, and now I don’t leave home without it. I find myself with a lot more time on my hands now that I use it, which has allowed me to write this blog.
I have attempted using the bus system, with little success. COPA students have a plethora of horror stories from attempting to use the bus system. (Ex. one girl got on the wrong bus and was driven outside the city. There was no bus to get her back and she ended up walking for 2 hours to get home!!). Its just as confusing and frustrating as the streets themselves. Unlike the city of Chicago, were there is one bus for every street, there is a minimum of 15 buses per street here. Now you would think this is fantastic, cause then you could get to where your going a lot faster. But the buses rarely stay on the same street they pick you up on. They travel to all edges of the city in different paths, and you never know what route they might take. I think it depends on how the bus driver is feeling that day. He might want to take the busier, but larger streets, or he might want to take the smaller, just as crowded streets that move just as slow. Now, using the bus system involves taking a class, but not for learning the routes. There is bus etiquette. Argentines are like military personal when it comes to waiting for the bus. They stand single file, and sometimes these lines get to be about half block long, no joke. And no matter how many people are standing there, and the bus drives sees you, if you do not signal, or flag him down, he will drive right past you, again no joke, I found this out the hard way. Next, when the bus finally does stop, you must let all the women on first, no exceptions. Now, the law has to be on the bus drivers side, or lawyers down here must make a fortune on injury claims. When picking up and dropping off riders, the bus never comes to a complete stop, it’s a lot like how my father (Eloy Burciaga) would stop at a stop sign. If you have ever ridin’ with my father, you know this means you are practically jumping off the bus, and while in the air moving your feet in the running motion so when you hit the ground you don’t fall down. For a young, athletic, and good looking guy like myself, this is not a big deal, but I cant help but feel sorry for the elderly in walkers that are ducking and rolling off these death boxes on wheels. The easiest way to travel, is either by foot, taxi or the subway. But again, there are two problems with the subway. First, it closes at 21.30 (which is 9.30pm), and second are the homeless people in the tunnels and around the entrances.
There are thousands of homeless people here. Most are harmless, but we have been warned to steer clear just in case. The disturbing thing about the homeless is the amount of families you see. It is not unusual to see mother, father, 2-6 kids, and sometimes even an animal. Now the homeless in Chicago can make somewhat of a living sifting through garbage and finding cans and other recyclables. But in Buenos Aires there is already a business for that. At night, when the garbage is put outside on the sidewalks (much like New York, there are no allies), people who you think are homeless because they are rummaging through the garbage looking for plastic and cardboard. But they are far from homeless. They get paid, its well organized, they get trunks to come in and pick up what they have found. Its actually quite fascinating while at the same time…well dirty. I guess in one respect they are helping the environment by recycling, but throughout the sifting process they make a mess.
Every major city will have its ups and downs. And while at times things may seem polluted, dirty, unsafe, and unpleasing, it is what makes Buenos Aires what it is, one of kind. A culturally rich city, with years of history, and many many things to offer!
I am staying in a nice, but densely populated area of the city called Recoleta. There are no homes, all tall apartment buildings about 12 stories high. There is either a café or restaurant at every corner. I live close to a street named Santa Fe, and it reminds me of poor man’s Michigan Avenue. It is just shop after shop and shop. I am not even sure how half the places stay in business. Honestly, how many shoe and clothing stores can you have? But I cant complain, the women are very well put together. But the guys, there are two types, the work type, which is a nice pair of slacks, with a button down and loafers, reminds me of Christopher Doolin. Then you have the guys that look like they got dressed in the dark, and that’s being nice. Nothing matches, clothes are dirty, wrinkled, look a hundred years old, its almost comical. And you see this at clubs too. Kids look like they just came from a soccer match.
Night life is outrageous. On hot nights I cant blame kids for dressing relaxed. Clubs can feel like 100 degrees. There are hundreds of people packed on the dance floor dancing and sweating profusely. I honestly buy water because I sometimes feel like I might die from dehydration! Most nights carry well into the next morning. Its not unusual for me to be arriving home when my host brother of sister are getting up for work or school. Its absolutely crazy down here. I love it!
I will have to continue this blog when I get back from vacation. This week is Semana Santa! I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.
La Boca
I was invited by friends to site see the city, and we chose to visit a very touristy area called the La Boca, near the river on the southeast side of town. Not an area you want to be caught walking around in at night. But none the less a very touristy place for many reasons, there is a soccer stadium in the center, which hosts the number one soccer team in the city this season. Another reason is the outdoor tango dancers that liter the street performing for passing shoppers and onlookers. It also features a little market square that sells the usual; necklaces, skirts, shirts, hats, knifes, mate cups (a traditional Argentina tea drink), and little things to bring home that will remind you of the La Boca later. I took my neighborhood 152 bus to the end of the line and walked another 6 blocks to get there. Let me start by saying, it was not worth the trip. The pictures professionals have taken to entice travels to visit over glamorize the whole thing. (so I guess they did their job, a little too well). I was not impressed at all. In fact it almost seemed liked some poor families back in the day got together and decided that if they painted their houses (cardboard boxes more like it) strange and different colors that people would come and take notice, and then use this attraction to sell things, and make money to raise their family. Well, they may have been poor, but they were smart, because it worked like a charm. The area is actually small, about 4 blocks in total, and every iron shack is painted green, red, blue, and yellow, with these huge, weird, fictional character dolls on balconies and street corners. We sat down at an outdoor café where we were immediately entertained by two tango dancers. It is a very passionate and difficult dance. I’m pretty sure if I attempted it, I would end up stepping on my partners toes a lot, as well as forgetting to catching my partner when she dipped, leading to her immediate concussion as her head would bang the ground! As usual, since we were in La Boca, everything was extremely over priced, the food was very good, but they charged for my friends sitting with me who didn’t order anything. I could definitely understand this, say if we were eating at Charlie Trotters, but this place was NO WHERE NEAR that quality. They were a glorified café at best because of the location they vended from. I was extremely frustrated with the way things were going. I was glad when the whole excursion ended about 30 min. later, when everyone had had their fill of pictures, food, shopping and site seeing.
Lack of better words
While walking about the city for whatever reason; to get to class, eat lunch or dinner (I never eat breakfast), site seeing, going out at night with friends, and believe it or not going out for a relaxing jog thru parks and different neighborhoods, one cannot help but notice, for lack of a better word, the terribly disturbing things that goes on. I’ll start with the dog owners, and lack there of. For some odd reason I get the feeling it might be illegal to pick up dog shit. Its everywhere, its like walking through a city with landmines, but instead of exploding, you smell the rest of the day. I walk thru the city playing hopscotch. And occasionally, I end up cursing very loudly in English when I lose this stinky game.
Who ever planned out the city should be dug and up and killed again. My theory of city planning is very similar to the American job hunting commercials. I think it was a bunch of monkeys in a room using crayons. People drew them a circle in the middle of a vast white sheet of paper and then let them go to work. There isn’t a street in the city that runs straight for more than a couple blocks. It has to turn, or get cut off at some point. Looking at an aerial map of the city would remind anyone of a spider web… on crack. Getting from one point to another on foot involves many streets, patients, and a lot of luck. I often have to refer to my Giat’e. Its my city guide, and the funny part about it is, people that have been living here all there lives still use it. At first I refused to carry it around. Never admitting defeat when I was lost, always claiming I could get my friends to the promise land. But when people quickly started disserting me, I swallowed my pride, and now I don’t leave home without it. I find myself with a lot more time on my hands now that I use it, which has allowed me to write this blog.
I have attempted using the bus system, with little success. COPA students have a plethora of horror stories from attempting to use the bus system. (Ex. one girl got on the wrong bus and was driven outside the city. There was no bus to get her back and she ended up walking for 2 hours to get home!!). Its just as confusing and frustrating as the streets themselves. Unlike the city of Chicago, were there is one bus for every street, there is a minimum of 15 buses per street here. Now you would think this is fantastic, cause then you could get to where your going a lot faster. But the buses rarely stay on the same street they pick you up on. They travel to all edges of the city in different paths, and you never know what route they might take. I think it depends on how the bus driver is feeling that day. He might want to take the busier, but larger streets, or he might want to take the smaller, just as crowded streets that move just as slow. Now, using the bus system involves taking a class, but not for learning the routes. There is bus etiquette. Argentines are like military personal when it comes to waiting for the bus. They stand single file, and sometimes these lines get to be about half block long, no joke. And no matter how many people are standing there, and the bus drives sees you, if you do not signal, or flag him down, he will drive right past you, again no joke, I found this out the hard way. Next, when the bus finally does stop, you must let all the women on first, no exceptions. Now, the law has to be on the bus drivers side, or lawyers down here must make a fortune on injury claims. When picking up and dropping off riders, the bus never comes to a complete stop, it’s a lot like how my father (Eloy Burciaga) would stop at a stop sign. If you have ever ridin’ with my father, you know this means you are practically jumping off the bus, and while in the air moving your feet in the running motion so when you hit the ground you don’t fall down. For a young, athletic, and good looking guy like myself, this is not a big deal, but I cant help but feel sorry for the elderly in walkers that are ducking and rolling off these death boxes on wheels. The easiest way to travel, is either by foot, taxi or the subway. But again, there are two problems with the subway. First, it closes at 21.30 (which is 9.30pm), and second are the homeless people in the tunnels and around the entrances.
There are thousands of homeless people here. Most are harmless, but we have been warned to steer clear just in case. The disturbing thing about the homeless is the amount of families you see. It is not unusual to see mother, father, 2-6 kids, and sometimes even an animal. Now the homeless in Chicago can make somewhat of a living sifting through garbage and finding cans and other recyclables. But in Buenos Aires there is already a business for that. At night, when the garbage is put outside on the sidewalks (much like New York, there are no allies), people who you think are homeless because they are rummaging through the garbage looking for plastic and cardboard. But they are far from homeless. They get paid, its well organized, they get trunks to come in and pick up what they have found. Its actually quite fascinating while at the same time…well dirty. I guess in one respect they are helping the environment by recycling, but throughout the sifting process they make a mess.
Every major city will have its ups and downs. And while at times things may seem polluted, dirty, unsafe, and unpleasing, it is what makes Buenos Aires what it is, one of kind. A culturally rich city, with years of history, and many many things to offer!
I am staying in a nice, but densely populated area of the city called Recoleta. There are no homes, all tall apartment buildings about 12 stories high. There is either a café or restaurant at every corner. I live close to a street named Santa Fe, and it reminds me of poor man’s Michigan Avenue. It is just shop after shop and shop. I am not even sure how half the places stay in business. Honestly, how many shoe and clothing stores can you have? But I cant complain, the women are very well put together. But the guys, there are two types, the work type, which is a nice pair of slacks, with a button down and loafers, reminds me of Christopher Doolin. Then you have the guys that look like they got dressed in the dark, and that’s being nice. Nothing matches, clothes are dirty, wrinkled, look a hundred years old, its almost comical. And you see this at clubs too. Kids look like they just came from a soccer match.
Night life is outrageous. On hot nights I cant blame kids for dressing relaxed. Clubs can feel like 100 degrees. There are hundreds of people packed on the dance floor dancing and sweating profusely. I honestly buy water because I sometimes feel like I might die from dehydration! Most nights carry well into the next morning. Its not unusual for me to be arriving home when my host brother of sister are getting up for work or school. Its absolutely crazy down here. I love it!
I will have to continue this blog when I get back from vacation. This week is Semana Santa! I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)