I'm sitting in a really cool hostel (Cool Raul Hostel, San Lorenzo 1670) in Rosario, Argentina after a six-hour, 300km train ride where Primera Clase did not mean First Class. Still the train ride was fun-- like taking a tour of the Argentinean countryside in 1963. What was not fun was having to carry my suitcase.
When I came down to BsAs I didn't pack for a backpacking trip and packed way too many shoes and useless coats that I now have to lug around another 3,000km. I have my backpack which has the essentials and a huge suitcase with everything else. I'm tempted to leave it but there's just too much winter gear I'll need when I get back. So what to do? Keep the suitcase but give it a good lipo treatment, Argie-style.
First to go was my 2kg of mate that I brought for no good reason. Next to go will probably be two pairs of jeans, two pairs of shoes, a couple of shirts and a jacket. I will also move some of the heavier articles to the backpack, If I can reduce the weight of the suitcase by 25% I'll be stoked. Even so, I fear a good percentage of the weight is the suitcase itself so I may just buy a bag to haul my stuff in. We'll see.
The bad news is that as I type this I can't stop thinking about a pair of red Ponys I saw earlier. I want them. What to do? SL
27 December 2009
14 December 2009
Back to the grind...
I returned yesterday, Saturday, from a week-long trip to Uruguay. It consisted of three separate events: the trip there; Montevideo; and Punta del Diablo.
The trip there: I took the midnight ferry to Uruguay and made some Uruguayan friends who said I should support the Montevideo team Peñarol. One of them has a daughter in North Carolina and he wanted to give me a box of stuff to give to her once I return to the US; I told him I lived nowhere near North Carolina!
Montevideo: The city looked very impressive from across the harbor (probably what Manhattan looked like from the East River in the 1880s) but the city itself was disappointing. It's an okay city, average for Latin America...I guess it's just not what I looking for. It does have a nice beach though, so it has that going for it. And a great chivito place in the called Chivitos Marcos in the Pocitos neighborhood.
Punta del Diablo: This is the place I was really trying to get to so getting there was a great relief. It's a small and quiet dirt-road surf slash beach town. I was there four nights and am happy to report I did very little during my stay. The hostel staff said a Lonely Planet writer had been there a few weeks earlier so expect this little bit of paradise to be totally different in two years; come here while it's still peaceful!!!
Overall impressions: Positive. Everyone says Uruguayans are nicer and more tranquilos than Argies but I've found Argies nice, too. One thing though: it's as expensive as the California...I don't know how Uruguayans can live there!
The trip there: I took the midnight ferry to Uruguay and made some Uruguayan friends who said I should support the Montevideo team Peñarol. One of them has a daughter in North Carolina and he wanted to give me a box of stuff to give to her once I return to the US; I told him I lived nowhere near North Carolina!
Montevideo: The city looked very impressive from across the harbor (probably what Manhattan looked like from the East River in the 1880s) but the city itself was disappointing. It's an okay city, average for Latin America...I guess it's just not what I looking for. It does have a nice beach though, so it has that going for it. And a great chivito place in the called Chivitos Marcos in the Pocitos neighborhood.
Punta del Diablo: This is the place I was really trying to get to so getting there was a great relief. It's a small and quiet dirt-road surf slash beach town. I was there four nights and am happy to report I did very little during my stay. The hostel staff said a Lonely Planet writer had been there a few weeks earlier so expect this little bit of paradise to be totally different in two years; come here while it's still peaceful!!!
Overall impressions: Positive. Everyone says Uruguayans are nicer and more tranquilos than Argies but I've found Argies nice, too. One thing though: it's as expensive as the California...I don't know how Uruguayans can live there!
04 December 2009
Uruguay and the Future
I'm trying to write more often (but less lengthy) so bare with me.
I went to Uruguay last week with my friend Mira because she had to renew her visa and going to Uruguay is just what you do here. We took a Buquebus ferry to Colonia, the closest Uruguayan city to BsAs. The day was spectacularly perfect, which should have been no surprise since the previous day had been dark and wet (Mira's theory, which I subscribe to, is that the weather here is the opposite day after day--if today is nice tomorrow will be terrible).
Colonia is a very typical and cool, umm--surprise!--colonial town: cobblestone streets, old Spanish and Portuguese buildings, tons of foreigners, etc. We took a tour and touched the water which magically reminded me that I need to go to the beach. Plus, simply breathing unpolluted air and seeing streets devoid of people, cars and trash did much to remind me that getting out of the city is beneficial for both body and mind.
I'm planning a week-long trip to Uruguay (land of the Ramos clan!) and, specifically, Montevideo, which has been described by numerous people as a smaller and tranquil version of Buenos Aires, but with a beach. Souuuunds perfect: I'm all partied-out. It will be a welcomed break. Since I'll be so near I'm going to take a few days to explore (read: lay about with my feet in the sand) either Punta del Diablo or Cabo Polonia, small fishing/resort towns some kilometers (I'm going Metric, bitches!) to the north of Punta del Este.
Punta was a place I wanted to visit before coming down here but, honestly, I don't want to party and I don't want to deal with tons of tourists. I'm going to need all of my strength and health for my last week in Baires before starting the long trek north into Bolivia and, eventually, Peru, where I hope to again sit with feet in the sand, sipping ice-cold beers and eating seafood so fresh it will fight to get out of my mouth! SL
Thanks, I hope you got bare with me...get it? Well, at least I amused myself. Is this what Sarah Palin meant by gotcha journalism?!
I went to Uruguay last week with my friend Mira because she had to renew her visa and going to Uruguay is just what you do here. We took a Buquebus ferry to Colonia, the closest Uruguayan city to BsAs. The day was spectacularly perfect, which should have been no surprise since the previous day had been dark and wet (Mira's theory, which I subscribe to, is that the weather here is the opposite day after day--if today is nice tomorrow will be terrible).
Colonia is a very typical and cool, umm--surprise!--colonial town: cobblestone streets, old Spanish and Portuguese buildings, tons of foreigners, etc. We took a tour and touched the water which magically reminded me that I need to go to the beach. Plus, simply breathing unpolluted air and seeing streets devoid of people, cars and trash did much to remind me that getting out of the city is beneficial for both body and mind.
I'm planning a week-long trip to Uruguay (land of the Ramos clan!) and, specifically, Montevideo, which has been described by numerous people as a smaller and tranquil version of Buenos Aires, but with a beach. Souuuunds perfect: I'm all partied-out. It will be a welcomed break. Since I'll be so near I'm going to take a few days to explore (read: lay about with my feet in the sand) either Punta del Diablo or Cabo Polonia, small fishing/resort towns some kilometers (I'm going Metric, bitches!) to the north of Punta del Este.
Punta was a place I wanted to visit before coming down here but, honestly, I don't want to party and I don't want to deal with tons of tourists. I'm going to need all of my strength and health for my last week in Baires before starting the long trek north into Bolivia and, eventually, Peru, where I hope to again sit with feet in the sand, sipping ice-cold beers and eating seafood so fresh it will fight to get out of my mouth! SL
Thanks, I hope you got bare with me...get it? Well, at least I amused myself. Is this what Sarah Palin meant by gotcha journalism?!
Cali Friends
Jonesy and Sara were in town two weeks ago and it was nice seeing familiar faces. I'm actually not homesick, which totally surprises me since the last two times I was out of the country for en extended period of time (Europe and Mexico, both times about a month) I was terrible homesick at about three and a half weeks. But not yet.
Still, being reminded of SLO, college and friends was really, really cool. Sara was always craving ice cream and Jonesy and I weren't complaining--that stuff is pretty good here! We happily obliged. I'm a huge fan of lime and orange flavors which I find incredibly refreshing in this hot and muggy weather.
On a related note: they brought me corn tortillas! Those things are next-to-impossible to find here so being brought a big bag was awesome and enabled me to make and share some tasty veal tacos. Baby cow tacos are really the way to go...why allow them to grow up and get tough?! SL
02 December 2009
Attack of the Trannies!
Scene: Club Chic, Palermo. 06.00, daybreak, after four hours of dancing.
I'm exiting Club Chic as the scene is winding down. It's light out and I am regretting not having my sunglasses. The club is--oddly enough-- located in the middle of a large wooded park called Bosques de Palermo and we have to cross this to get back home. George, Juan and I are walking up Sarmiento towards Plaza Italia when, up ahead and between us and a food stand, are two trannies looking for the last street action of the night. They start hollering and walking confidently towards us as my friends and I giggle like English schoolgirls at the oncoming prospects and joke about how much we would pay (Answer: suprisingly little).
Before we're done with our jokes, these two "ladies" are essentially assaulting us: the thick topless one chose me while the taller one chose my friend George. We're still walking, mind you, though obviously slowed by the interference; they grab by the shoulders and promise things for various prices. Ew. [I'm almost positive this caused me to throw up in my mouth a little, ruined my stomach for the next 24 hours and began a chain of events that led to perhaps the single-most embarrassing situation I've ever been in some 6 hours later. But that's another story...]
As suddenly as these Sirens of the Night appeared they disappeared, this time into one of the many passing taxis. Then, like a Saharan mirage, a guy scuttles towards us like Zoidberg from Futurama, yelling in our direction (at us?) between bites of his super milanesa sandwich:
"Did those bitches rob you?! Check your pockets. All they do is rob people coming out of the club; they'll get close to them and then reach into their pockets. Fucken whores!"
We all check our pockets but seem to have everything we had before the assault save a little dignity. Nothing is missing from any of us. Are we lucky? Have we escaped with only an assault? It sure looks that way. Bad. Ass.
In celebratory ecstasy George orders an hamburguesa; Juan isn't so brave and my stomach is still reeling. As George eats, I notice two guys on a bench about ten meters up the road: one is laying on the bench, well asleep while the other sits on the backrest. Both look homeless and I figure they are simply taking turns laying on the bench or some other naive thing. Ha! The guy who's sitting is going through the sleeping guy's pockets! He sees me looking but continues anyway, undeterred. After a few minutes of slow-motion pick-pocketing the perpetrator leaves, disappearing into the woods from whence the trannies had come some minutes before. Perhaps they are the same person? I don't know, I'm tired. Just another night in Buenos Aires. SL
[Edit: I still am not certain, but those trannies may have taken some money from me after all, about ARS$60. For those of you keeping score, I've "donated" about ARS$125 thus far.]
I'm exiting Club Chic as the scene is winding down. It's light out and I am regretting not having my sunglasses. The club is--oddly enough-- located in the middle of a large wooded park called Bosques de Palermo and we have to cross this to get back home. George, Juan and I are walking up Sarmiento towards Plaza Italia when, up ahead and between us and a food stand, are two trannies looking for the last street action of the night. They start hollering and walking confidently towards us as my friends and I giggle like English schoolgirls at the oncoming prospects and joke about how much we would pay (Answer: suprisingly little).
Before we're done with our jokes, these two "ladies" are essentially assaulting us: the thick topless one chose me while the taller one chose my friend George. We're still walking, mind you, though obviously slowed by the interference; they grab by the shoulders and promise things for various prices. Ew. [I'm almost positive this caused me to throw up in my mouth a little, ruined my stomach for the next 24 hours and began a chain of events that led to perhaps the single-most embarrassing situation I've ever been in some 6 hours later. But that's another story...]
As suddenly as these Sirens of the Night appeared they disappeared, this time into one of the many passing taxis. Then, like a Saharan mirage, a guy scuttles towards us like Zoidberg from Futurama, yelling in our direction (at us?) between bites of his super milanesa sandwich:
"Did those bitches rob you?! Check your pockets. All they do is rob people coming out of the club; they'll get close to them and then reach into their pockets. Fucken whores!"
We all check our pockets but seem to have everything we had before the assault save a little dignity. Nothing is missing from any of us. Are we lucky? Have we escaped with only an assault? It sure looks that way. Bad. Ass.
In celebratory ecstasy George orders an hamburguesa; Juan isn't so brave and my stomach is still reeling. As George eats, I notice two guys on a bench about ten meters up the road: one is laying on the bench, well asleep while the other sits on the backrest. Both look homeless and I figure they are simply taking turns laying on the bench or some other naive thing. Ha! The guy who's sitting is going through the sleeping guy's pockets! He sees me looking but continues anyway, undeterred. After a few minutes of slow-motion pick-pocketing the perpetrator leaves, disappearing into the woods from whence the trannies had come some minutes before. Perhaps they are the same person? I don't know, I'm tired. Just another night in Buenos Aires. SL
[Edit: I still am not certain, but those trannies may have taken some money from me after all, about ARS$60. For those of you keeping score, I've "donated" about ARS$125 thus far.]
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