Tigre

Bozena, Diane and I went to Tigre today. Diane's sister was not feeling well, so she didn't join us. I set off using the information from Larry's blog, thinking I knew what I was doing. Turned out I didn't. But the day turned out perfectly. According to Larry's blog, he took the train from Retiro to Mitre station and then transferred to the Tren de la Costa. We went to Retiro station, I asked for the Tren de la Costa and got three tickets, which cost us $1.00 (for all three together). We just made the train, which was a little run down and packed with people who didn't look like the folks I normally see in the Recoleta. Looking up at the map for Mitre station, I realized that Retiro is called Mitre. So it seemed to me that we were going to take the regular train all the way to Tigre. But about 1/3 of the way on our trip, Bozena pulled out her guide book and I read about Tigre. I found out we could get off at Olivos and take the Tren de la Costa from there. We were just approaching Olivos station. Expecting to get off and find this bridge to take us to the Tren de la Costa that Larry described (and I had read about elsewhere), instead I found us at a lonely little station out in the provinces. We asked a woman on the platform how to get to the TDLC (I can't keep writing Tren de la Costa) and she said, "you go up, you go down, you go up...." or something like that, implying that we had to walk a ways to get there. So we went into a grocery store and I asked the clerk and her directions were a little more clear. We walk to the end of the street we were on, turn right, then make a left and we'll come to the station. That's what we did and we arrived at a cute little station called Borges. We had enough time to get a little refreshement at a cute cafe at the station and as the train approached we ran across the tracks to get on. As we stood there out of breath expectently waiting for the doors to open, the conductor yelled something from the front of the train. Diane started banging on the doors, thinking that would open them, and someone, Diane or Bozena spotted a button outside of the train that she pushed, and the doors opened. What a silly system! We enjoyed the rest of the ride on this very comfortable train. As we arrived in Tigre, I went to a little information booth to find out about a short boat tour. They offered us a tour of 1.5 hour through the delta with a stop for lunch. It was expensive (180 pesos each) but we were all ready and willing to pay because it sounded perfect. And it was. Our boat driver was a young guy named Christian who was formerly a radiologist, and now lives in Tigre and drives a boat. He loved taking us down little inlets and pointing out animal tracks, turtles sunning themselves on branches, or birds flying above. He took us to a little house where his girlfriend cooked for us and then took us to the Rio de la Plata and showed us a newly forming island (the picture is of him walking on the sand that is collecting forming this new island). He wanted to continue the tour, which was well over 1.5 hours by now, but I was worried about getting back in time to finish packing and take a shower and get ready for my flight. He brought us back to land and drove us to a station that was a few stops in from Tigre. So, the correct way we should have gone was to take the train to Vicente Lopez from Retiro (Mitre) station, then cross the bridge to Maipu station, which is the end of the line for the Tren de la Costa. It was nice to get out of the city a little and see a very different way of living. Apparently many people from Buenos Aires have homes in Tigre and go there on the weekends. There is also a growing number of people giving up city life altogether and moving to Tigre for a simpler way of existence. I don't think I could live there, but it was a nice place to visit.

Last Post from Buenos Aires This Year

I'm up very early today. Not sure why I can't sleep, but it's good, as I have a chance to write one more blog post before I leave. Yesterday I had a very relaxing morning. Diane was in her apartment waiting for Bozena to arrive, and then she went for a manicure while I went and got my last massage. My massage was from a new person and I felt like it couldn't be over fast enough. I asked for it deep and have decided that outside of Thailand, women can not give big guys like me a deep massage without years of training. The woman who gave me a massage yesterday probably would have given me a nice relaxing massage if I had asked for that. But since I asked for deep, she was digging her elbow into me and slipping and sliding all over the place. She was not conscious of the fact that I had stopped breathing and was very uncomfortable. This was different from the kind of discomfort I got with Leiban, where I was actually releasing tension as I breathed heavily, moaned and sighed. I was just uncomfortable because I think she was not comfortable with what she was doing. She seemed stressed out mostly. After my massage I went to the plaza outside of Facultad de Medicina to buy a few more mates for someone, I don't know who. I like the mates that this guy Walter sells. I stopped by Aires to pick up some cakes and cookies for when Diane brought her sister and Bozena over. I came home and started packing. I put away the dressy pants and shirts that I never wore. Next year, they will stay in SF. If I could manage in five months not to get dressed up, I think I can do so for another 3 months when I return. It seems that I have too much stuff. My carry on backpack is filled to the brim with things I bought here. I haven't finished packing the two bags I am going to check, but I am worried that they will be overweight. I don't know how I am going to manage to get all of this stuff from the taxi to the check-in counter tonight. Hernan called and said he was on his way (we had texted earlier to set up a time for him to visit). He arrived a little after five and we had a short visit before Diane arrived with her sister and Bozena. It's always interesting meeting siblings and family members of friends, and I enjoyed meeting Diane's sister who seems very different from Diane. The only similarity I could find is that they both speak slowly and clearly, but their voices are different - it is the pace of the way they speak that is similar. For Diane, it makes her a great ESL teacher. We headed off towards Milion, which I wasn't sure would be open. I took them through the Recoleta a little and when we arrived at Milion it was packed. Very much unlike the time I went with Hernan, when it was nearly empty except for a few large groups of people, every table in the entry, in the back yard and on the terrace was filled with people drinking and eating. Turns out it was happy hour. We found one table on the terrace that was set with a table cloth and glasses and we should have known since it was a prime table that was empty that it was not available, but eventually someone came out and told us it was reserved for dinner. We tried finding a table in the back yard, but they told us there was nothing, so we ended up in one of the inner rooms in a table squished into a corner looking into the dining room. It was perfect. I was thinking that I wanted some sort of frozen mojito and was happy to see that they had just that on the menu. The taste was a little odd, like it had jackfruit or some strange tropical fruit in it, but it was good and refreshing and didn't taste at all alcoholic, which made it slightly dangerous. Diane got a bellini and Bozena got a kir royale, and Karen, Diane's sister got the same as me. We also got two platters of appetizers. One was Peruvian and one was Central American. The bill for this extravaganza was still less than the three drinks we got when we went to the Faena Hotel and Universe, proving once and for all that it was ridiculously overpriced for Buenos Aires. It was a fun way to start off the evening. I felt very comfortable there, which I can not say for many places in the US where people go for happy hour. I loved being in this beautiful old mansion, the drinks and the food were good and the atmosphere felt very comfortable. There was cheto electronic music playing but it wasn't too loud to drown out our voices. The place was crowded and people were talking loudly, but it wasn't too loud that we could not hear each other speak. From there we headed to El Sanjuanino. I had planned on taking them to La Pena del Colorado, where there would be live music and a sort of folksy atmosphere, but it turned out to be closed for a few days. El Sanjuanino was a good 2nd choice. We walked a bit through the Recoleta, passed some of the big embassies (including the Vatican's Embassy) and arrived at El Sanjuanino actually chilled. It was unbelievably chilly and windy. After dying from the heat just one day before, it was a welcome, if not strange, change of weather. I knew I wanted an empanada to start and I was going to have lentils, but it was difficult to get everyone else to settle on what they wanted. Diane seemed to want to make it a family style dinner, but I knew if I did that I would end up eating too much. The lentils are a perfect sized dish for me but they are very rich with chorizo and chunks of meat. If I added anything else to that, I would have been stuffed. I hope I wasn't obnoxious, but I jokingly said if they wanted lentils, they would have to order their own. Really, I was trying to encourage everyone to choose something. Diane ordered a matambre, which I have seen on the menu, but never seen in person. I imagined it as a piece of meat sliced thin and rolled and stuffed with different things. Turns out it looked like a big empanada that was stuffed with meat, egg, cheese, tomato and other stuff. She may have mistakenly gotten two. It wasn't clear. Bozena ordered the erotic salad, which was roquefort, walnuts, celery, apples and cream. She hardly ate any because after she tasted my lentils, she wanted her own, and told me I wasn't sufficiently enthusiastic about the lentils or she would have ordered them from the start. So for anyone who is going to El Sanjuanino and doesn't know what to order - the lentils are FANTASTIC!!!!!! Karen ordered a plate of fries, and I think a few more empanadas arrived, along with a mixed salad. I selfishly, but contentedly enjoyed my lentils while the rest of the food piled up like a large traffic jam on our table. Most of it ended up boxed up with Karen promising to make a delicious fritata for breakfast. Stuffed and warmed up, we walked up Posadas and headed up the hill next to the Alvear. Diane, now able to sense where she can steal nice paper towels, said, "Are we near the Alvear Palace?", and sure enough we had to go in so she could show Bozena the stash of thick paper towels in the ladies' room. Karen sat in the lobby and I went to use the men's room. Bozena came back from the ladies' room with her purse stuffed with paper towels. I wonder if they have hidden cameras in the Alvear. I may not be able to return there again. It seemed like it was not as cold as it was earlier and we enjoyed our walk home through the Recoleta which seemed quieter than normal. My feet were starting to hurt from walking, but since I'd had a day of mostly rest, it wasn't too bad. Today we are going to El Tigre, the delta. I have never been before, but thanks to Larry's blog, I know how to go. We're going to go to Retiro station and take the train to Mitre, where we will transfer to the Tren de la Costa, and ride along the coast. Hernan said we should leave by 9, but we aren't meeting until 10. Hernan thinks like an Argentine and if he had gone with us, would have taken us on the public boat taxis. We plan on renting a private boat and taking a quick tour of the delta with lunch either before or after our tour. We will then head back and I will continue to try to fit everything I have into my suitcases and take a rest before someone comes here to return my deposit and check me out. It has been a long 5 months here in Buenos Aires and I am definitely ready to return home. I'm glad I am coming back, becaue I am finally beginning to feel a little like this is home too. Next year the adventure will continue. I'll be a little older, will have valuable experiences from this year to hopefully make the shorter stay better, will have hopefully some relationships that I started to develop that I can continue to cultivate. I also found a school where they offer level 8 Spanish, and need to check out the website (I passed by on my way back from buying mates yesterday). I think it might be good for me to get into a Spanish program if I can. My Spanish has improved a lot in these 5 months, but I still have a long way to go before I am competent and feel like I can hold my own around native speakers. It would be nice to study some Portuguese and I will add that if I can, but I think I will try to focus on Spanish when I return. Well, it's time for my last bowl of bran cereal. My final breakfast in Buenos Aires.

Ready to Leave

Yesterday the plan was to go to the Feria de Mataderos in the morning and San Telmo in the afternoon. But as I was looking at the website for Mataderos, it was not clear if there was going to be a fair yesterday. Afraid to take the chance, because Mataderos is pretty far away, and not the best neighborhood to be wandering around aimlessly, I decided instead to take us to Belgrano.

Belgrano is a nice neighborhood to the west of Palermo. It is comfortably middle class (or above) and has a busy shopping area, parks, and Chinatown. They also have the feria de Belgrano every weekend and holidays. I had never been, but I thought it would be worth a visit.

As we got off the subte at Juramento station and walked down Juramento, we saw that they were just setting things up, so I suggested we go to Chinatown first.

Chinatown here is not big, but it is fun to visit. There are a few shops selling made in China products. I got a little statue of the Virgen of Lujan, Argentina's virgin, that lights up in different colors, and some pads to put in my shoes that look like they will massage my feet. Diane bought some slippers.

We walked the two blocks of Chinatown and decided on a restaurant called Chinatown Cantina. It was on a corner and looked like it had been an old classic Argentine bar.

The restaurant was busy and the food was good. It was interesting watching Argentines, who seem very particular about their food, interact with the one waiter who was running around like a chicken without a head. At one table they were not happy with their food. The cook (who looked like the waiter's father) came out and told them that was the way they prepare it, but it would take it back and make it the way they wanted it. At another table, a woman seemed unhappy about something, but I couldn't tell what. Diane and I were very happy with our food, especially after Diane asked for "picante" and we got a small dish of chili sauce. In a country where they consider black pepper too spicy, it was great to have a dish of something that was so hot I was sweating!

We walked up Mendoza, another street in Belgrano and back to Cuba where the fair was. They were still not set up completely, but there were a few vendors. It seemed pretty kitschy. There were some baby clothes, jewelry, mates, wooden stuff, but not a whole lot, and what was there was not that impressive. It turned out we were early, the fair is more of a late afternoon/evening thing, and it will be on now every day until January 6. I don't know if Diane will bring the girls back.

We took the subte back to Puerrydon, I took a bubble bath, and Diane and I met back at the corner of Puerrydon and Santa Fe, which is almost halfway between our apartments. Our locations couldn't be better. We went to Catedral, the end of the line in the other direction, and walked to San Telmo.

By now it had really gotten hot and humid. Defensa was still quite crowded. I bought a beautiful wooden salad bowl. I had seen these bowls before and that was the one thing I knew I wanted from San Telmo. The one I got it huge, but it is really a work of art.

We walked all the way to Plaza Dorrego, turned and stopped to listen to a tango orchestra that had set up outide of the church of San Telmo, the saint who gives the neighborhood its name. This tango orchestra is one of the alternative tango orchestras that set up in San Telmo. I love watching them. This one had four bandoneon players (the little accordians typical of tango), several violins, a piano, and a cello or viola (a big stringed thing that rested on the ground). They also had a singer. Diane bought a CD and they seem very irreverent. One song is called "maldito monogamia" - damned monogamy" and they have a "maldita milonga" - damned milonga - with lessons and a performance. They look kind of like the crowd that hangs out on Valencia street in the Mission in SF, long scruffy hair, unshaven, a little on the dirty side, but armed with the typical instruments of a tango orchestra.

By now I was very hot and thirsty. A woman was selling fresh squeezed orange juice and had the last remnants of ice in a little bucket on her cart. We approached her and she was tying a string around her cart to keep it from falling apart. I was waiting for her to finish before telling her what we wanted, when out of nowhere, a young latina walked up and ordered an orange juice. The women selling the juice, who knew we were there first, went ahead and prepared her juice. I told her we wanted two, but when I saw her use up the last bits of ice, I told Diane, "let's go", and we walked away. I was pissed that she didn't serve us in the order we arrived, and really didn't want hot orange juice.

So instead we walked down Balcarce, which was much quieter and easier to walk than crowded Defensa. We came across a little bar on the corner and I suggested we go in for something to drink. Usually I'm not one to just pop into any place I come across, but this place looked comfortable and we were just going to get a drink.

They had licuados (smoothies) on the menu, so I asked the server what kind they had. He rattled off a bunch of fruits - strawberries, pineapple, orange, and then said they had lemonade with mint. It sounded so refreshing, that is what we decided on. But we had to wait for someone to come back and take our order. Even though it wasn't that busy, the service was kind of slow and inattentive.

Another server, this time a woman, came back. She told us the lemonade came in a pitcher, which was fine. I also ordered a vanilla budin (loaf cake) and mus de maracuya (passionfruit mousse). Passionfruit seems to be quite popular here, which is odd, because I don't think it is native to Argentina. Maracuya ice cream is one of my favorites.

Everything was fantastic! The mousse was light and creamy, the lemonade with mint was blended with ice and was so refreshing and the vanilla loaf cake was moist and flavorful. We gobbled it all down and the experience would have been extremely pleasant were it not for a young french woman who was sitting with a group of people, who seemed to be of varying nationalities. This woman was speaking English very loudly and arguing (it seemed) over the uselessness of reading. She was challenging the guy across from her to tell her what writer she must read that would change her life. She got quiet for a few moments when her food arrived, but soon, her voice was filling the bar and competeting with the music for attention.

We walked back towards the subte and as we crossed Avenida de Mayo, we saw that they were setting up for some kind of concert. To kill time, I suggested we go to Cafe Tortoni, which is a must-see for any tourist visiting Argentina. It is a like a living museum.

We had to wait in line to get in, but we decided they make people wait just to increase the apparent value of the visit. Once you go in, after waiting in line, you see that there are plenty of empty tables.

It is a fun scene, mostly because it is a classic old Argentine bar/cafe, and everyone is snapping photos while eating and drinking. There was one very old woman sitting with a guy who looked like he was her son. The son sat reading a newspaper and then he picked up a Borges book, while the mother sat there looking around and for about 5 minutes picked her nose. It looked like he had taken her out for the day, but they did not interact at all. Here is a picture of them (over in the right hand corner).



From there, we walked back out to Avenida de Mayo and it looked like the concert was still not ready to start. I was hot and tired, so I suggested we just go home. Of course all of my suggestions are ok with Diane. I took her on the A line of the subte, which runs up Avenida de Mayo and has old wooden cars. It is the oldest subway line in South America. You have to open the doors manually, which is really fun.

We got off at the Congresso and since we were near, I wanted to show Diane the water building on Cordoba, which is a masterpiece in extravagence. The building is covered in Royal Doulton china which was shipped from England and numbered to be pieced together. Since it was half-way between where we were and where we wanted to go, it wasn't worth taking a taxi there or from there to our apartments. I ended up walking too much again, and my feet and legs were really sore and tired by the time I got home.

I took another shower and changed for the third time and went to Diane's to see what we were going to do for dinner. Our first plan, to order delivery from the Sirian-Lebanese club fell through since they were closed on Sunday. We found a listing for a Spanish restaurant two blocks from Diane's apartment and walked to find it, but either it was no longer there or was closed, so we went to Romario, a pizza restaurant chain and got a small pizza that looked like a large. It was good, but I was really stuffed and tired. I'm feeling fat, old and achy, and look forward to returning to SF where I can eat healthy food again, drive, and work out at my comfortable gym. Hopefully, between not walking so much, some acupuncture and massage, and a better diet, I can get my body back into decent working condition. It feels like it has been abused these past five months. I think I really messed my feet up by walking so much in shoes with bad support on sidewalks that tilt in every which direction. Hopefully the damage can be undone.

This morning I have the entire morning to relax, and then I have an appointment at Aqua Vita Spa for a massage and a facial. Bozena arrives at 11:15 today and should be at Diane's by 1. Then Diane's sister arrives at 2:15. Once they get in and settled, they are going to come here and we'll have a little drink here before going to Milion, for a drink and an introduction to the world that Buenos Aires has to offer.

I took one last load of laundry to the lavanderia across the street and will begin packing today. After 5 long months, the end has finally come and I'm ready to go home.

Shopping With Diana...

The fun thing about having people visit for me is that I get to go to all of my favorite places that I normally would not go to. This happens when friends visit me in San Francisco too. I'm glad Diane decided to visit me at the end of my stay here as it is giving me an opportunity to make one last visit to some of my favorite BsAs spots, and I'm even seeing some new places.

Today we met halfway between our apartments and took a taxi to Gurrachaga and Cordoba. There is a shoestore on Gurrachaga that Lorena said I might like, and Diane wanted to go to the Prune outlet on Gurrachaga, but on the other side of Cordoba. I figured we could do both and then I'd show her around the Palermos.

We walked about 4-5 blocks down Gurrachaga into a neighborhood called Villa Crespo. Diane met an Argentine woman on the plane on her flight down and admired her boots. The woman told her they were Prune. She then showed Diane her wallet and change purse, which were also Prune. So Diane has had Prune on her mind since she got here. The other day I sent her to Abasto on her own, where there is a Prune shop, but this was a Prune outlet!

We went inside and it was a feeding frenzy of women going crazy over bags, wallets, jackets, belts. One man stood in the midst of it all looking like I felt. I found a wallet for myself, one for a gift and a bag, and told Diane I'd meet her outside.

Unfortunately, Diane was swallowed up into the bowels of the Prune Outlet and I thought I'd never see her again. She emerged nearly an hour later with two large bags on her arms. I'd say Prune was a big hit with Diane!

From there we walked down Gurrachaga into Palermo Soho to 28 Sport, the shoe store Lorena recommended. The shoes were bowling style, and they were nice but I felt like I'd have to wear bowling shirts and grow one of those little furry things under the lip that are not quite a goatee. I didn't get shoes.

We walked through Palermo Soho a bit, onto Honduras and around Plaza Serrano until we got to Nicaragua. We turned to head into Palermo Hollywood, but were stopped by a large wall that would not allow us to cross. It was kind of like the Berlin wall. So we hopped in a taxi, which was nicely air-conditioned, and the driver took us to Nicaragua and Arevalo, to a cafe I ate at with Hernan called Oui Oui.

I asked the driver why this section of Palermo was called "Hollywood". He was a very nice guy and in loud, clear Spanish told me he had two theories. One was that there are several TV stations there, and the other is that there are many actors and film people who live in that section of Palermo. He said it has only been 5 or 6 years that it has been known as Palermo Hollywood. Before that it was just Palermo.

Oui Oui was crowded, but we got a table. We had three salads. Diane had a salad with avocado, sun dried tomatoes, a fried egg on a piece of bread and goat cheese. I had a salad with pears, beets, some melted cheese and it tasted like there were fried onions in the dressing. And we shared a goat cheese provoleta, which came on a bed of greens. It was all very yummy. We also had a small pitcher of wine. We then went for the deserts, which looked and smelled really tempting. Diane had a crepe with nutella and I had a flourless chocolate cake with cream. We both had coffee.

It was a feast. And it was nice to get away from the milanesa, steak and fries typical menus.

Oui Oui is a very cute little cafe, with lots of chalkboards with hand written menus, dried flowers hanging on the walls, and lots of kitsch.

From there, we taxid over to Plaza Armenia in Palermo Viejo, where Diane made a few purchases, but by now the heat had become oppressive. The sky was darkening like it was going to pour any minute, and a torrential shower would have been a welcome relief from the heat. There wasn't a lot going on at Plaza Armenia so we headed back to Plaza Serrano and then caught a taxi home.

I took a nap and Diane laid all of her purchases from Prune on her bed and rolled around naked on them. No, I am just kidding about that. But she did say she didn't sleep because she was looking at her wallets.

A little after 6, Diane came here and we headed to Yin Yang Pie to make an appointment for her to get a manicure on Monday. We then walked over to the Recoleta Fair.

This is the third or fourth time I've been to the Recoleta Fair, and you'd think I'd be tired of it by now, but each time I go I see different things and I develop a new appreciation for it. Today I was struck by all of the people who are making things, jewelry, clothes, paintings, art, handicrafts, mates, whatever, and selling them. Diane bought a pair of shoes from a guy who said he makes them in his home with his wife and son and learned from his father. I bought a beautiful little copper plate with enamel painting from a woman who said she has been selling them there for 35 years. She said when she started she told her mother she would just do it for a few years, but it has been 35! She was very proud of her work and the plates were really lovely little pieces of art. I regret not going there more. I think it is interesting just to walk around and talk to people there and hang out.

After that, we headed over to El Sanjuanino, one of my favorite little local restaurants. The food is not really anything special, but it is good, hearty and reasonably priced. What I love about the place is the atmosphere. It feels very warm and homey, the waiters are friendly and the place is always filled with a mix of locals and tourists. Today a few older couples were wishing one of the waiters a happy birthday. You could tell they eat there a lot.

From El Sanjuanino, we walked down to Patio Bullrich because we needed Freddo to get the taste of steak out of our mouths. Patio Bullrich is a very luxurious shopping center with shops such as Kenzo, Cristian Lacroix and Prune! It used to be a livestock trading market, but is a beautiful structure and was all shiny and sparkly for the holidays. We walked around a bit and then went to Freddo for a little ice cream. I got mora, which I think is black currant, and passion fruit. Diane got bitter chocolate with raspberry. I loved the mora, but I think Volta's passion fruit is better.

From there, we headed up Avenida Alvear and Diane said she had to pee and wanted to use the bathroom in the Alvear Palace Hotel. But really, she wanted to steal some of the very thick paper towels they have in the bathroom. There was a big hullabaloo going on in the ballroom, so I waited in the lobby while Diane made her way through the crowds to the restroom to steal paper towels. It turned out there was a wedding and they thought she was a guest, so she had a glass of champagne on the way! Now, that is super cheto!

We zig zagged our way home through the Recoleta, making a stop at the Sirian-Lebanese Club. I wanted to go inside to see the restaurant and the buffet that I only know from delivery. The people there were very nice and allowed us to go up into this grand old house to check out the restaurant. The restaurant itself was almost diner like in its informality, people were wearing shorts and it all looked very relaxed. The food looked great, and the building was absolutely gorgeous. As we were leaving, I asked the woman who greeted us if it had been a house. She said yes, one family used to live there. I said it was incredible, and she said something like, "yes, it's a shame how the poor used to live" - I think she was being ironic!

It was a full, but fun day. My feet are killing me, of course, but I think I can take one more day of trekking around if I am careful to take breaks and not walk too much (it is so hard not to walk in this city - it's the only way to really see it).

Tomorrow our plan is to go to the Feria de Mataderos early, take showers and naps (or roll around naked on the bed with our purchases) and then head to San Telmo.

Monday I have another massage, and a facial at Aqua Vita, and Diane's sister and another friend, Bozena both arrive. Monday evening we will go out for drinks and dinner and then on Tuesday we may leave the city to visit Tigre, getting home in time for me to finish packing and head to the airport!

My last few days in Buenos Aires are turning out to be full, and very satisfying, if not exhausting. I'll be leaving with some fond memories and a desire to return for just a little bit more (but not missing the heat).

Adventures With Diana - continued....

After soaking my legs and feet in a warm bath on Thursday night and again yesterday morning, I was ready to pound the tiled sidewalks again with Diana (that is what we call her here).

Diane came by and we headed down to my money changer at Callao and Santa Fe. There was one person being served, so we had to wait, but as soon as he was done, we walked up, handed over our money, got our pesos and left. No hassle, no fuss. No one telling us to stand behind the line. No passports. I don't understand why it is different than the other places, but I hope there is one like this in my new neighborhood next year.

From there we walked one block to Rodriguez Pena to La Cholita for lunch. La Cholita is a parilla, but it is kind of cool with crayons and newsprint on the table and feels very relaxed to me. I had pork and Diane had an eggplant sandwich. I think she was trying to be healthy, but the sandwich came on a huge roll. I think it would have been healthier to just have a hunk of meat!

I knew Diane wanted to window shop and we had some time before our foot massages, so I sent her down Santa Fe and I headed to El Ateneo to buy some tango CDs for someone. We met up in Volta.

From there we headed over to Yin Yang Pie. I got a one hour foot massage while Diane was getting her pedicure. Then she got a foot massage while I got a pedicure. I fell asleep during my foot massage. I don't know if it helped with the plantar facitis, but it felt good. I guess there was a misunderstanding though because Diane's foot massage was only 30 minutes. Still, we were happy.

Oh, I forgot, she is Diana now.

So Diana and I came back to my place for a brief rest and then hopped in a cab to San Telmo to visit Hernan and his friend Catarine. Catarine is visiting from Quebec, and when her boyfriend arrives in a few days she is heading to Easter Island in Chile (one place I'd really love to go) and then backpacking in Bolivia. She was very nice and Diana, Hernan and Catarine all hit it off very well. It was a nice visit.

From Hernan's we were able to walk to Peru which eventually turns into Florida (street that is). The vendors we liked on Peru were mostly gone (there is a very hippie/alternative scene on Peru during the day), but as we crossed over Avenida de Mayo to Florida Street, the venders stretched the length of Florida Street for miles. They were selling everything - mates (of course), bags, jewelry, underwear, sandals, toys, etc. There were musicians - one alternative band with a horn section and young kids with dreadlocks that was really jamming and very good, a few Peruvian looking guys playing flutes along with recorded new age music, one human statue, and tons of people. As we got closer to Cordoba, where Gallerias Pacifica is, the crowds got denser and it became harder to walk and look at what was being sold. We ducked into Gallerias Pacifica through the side entrance and Diane used the rest room (I had to wait because the mens room was out of order) and then we went to the food court.

The food courts in the malls here are pretty much your standard Argentine fare. Most of them have steak. A few have chicken. We were looking at the sushi menu at a Japanese restaurant while the guy behind the counter ignored us. Finally when I asked him if they were open, he said yes, but they didn't have any sushi. We settled on Chinese. It was what you could expect at a food court in a mall, but I was really hungry, so I enjoyed it anyway.

After we ate I remembered I wanted to try what was supposed to be the best pizza in Buenos Aires. Another night perhaps.

From there we were able to walk up Santa Fe towards our homes. I love Santa Fe when it is not busy and you can look up and see the elegant old apartment buildings that line the street. It's nice to walk on Sunday, since the stores are closed and the street is pretty quiet. It is a lovely avenue.

By the time we got to Volta I was ready for a rest so we ducked in and had small ice creams. Diane had chocolate nero (black chocolate) and raspberry and I had lemon mousse and strawberry chocolate chip (I like the strawberry with chocolate chips).

I walked Diana to Puerrydon where we practiced kissing like Argentines and then came home and had a good night's sleep, where unfortunately I had a teaching dream. It was one of those dreams where I was in the classroom but didn't have the right book, didn't know what I was supposed be teaching, etc. I hate those dreams!

I'm now ready to give Diana a call and see if she is ready for our adventure today. This morning we are going to Palermo, we'll have lunch there and then come home for naps before going to the Recoleta Fair in the evening and then have dinner at El Sanjuanino. Another full day, hopefully my feet will hold up.

My Aching Feet....

My feet are killing me. They started to hurt about a month ago, but in spite of my best efforts at stretching and doing exercises I found online, they still hurt. It doesn't help that I am trying to play tour guide to Diane. As much as I want to show her everything, I think I'm going to have to start taking it easy, and maybe sending her off on her own, while I sit in a cafe and wait. It's hard getting old....

Yesterday we had a nice relaxing Christmas day. I went to Diane's for lunch and we had the leftover Arab food and leftover seafood from Christmas Eve. We went up to the pool on her roof and swam for a bit and then I came back to my place and took a nap.

Later we were going to go to Hernan's, but when I called him, he said he had a few friends there drinking daiquiris and had more friends coming over. Of course we were invited, but the thought of a bunch of people crammed into his small apartment smoking cigarettes didn't appeal to me, so I told him we'd see him another day. I am giving him all of the things I bought for my kitchen to hold and use, and return to me when I come back next year if I need them. After that, he can have them. I'd rather give them to him than leave them in this apartment (which is nicely furnished, but does not have a very functional kitchen).

So instead, Diane and I had a mate and some cakes and then I took her on a tour of the Recoleta. It was a beautiful evening with a cool breeze blowing. It was almost chilly - a very nice and welcome change. The streets were beginning to come back to life as I suppose people were finished with whatever they did to celebrate Christmas. Fortunately, there were no firecrackers raining down from the balconies.

We walked the old streets of Recoleta, which is one of the most beautiful neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. Every few blocks we'd come across a little plazoleta, with a fountain or a statue. Big villas which are now used as embassies stood as reminders of the wealth that some Argentines enjoyed back when Argentina was progressing into the first world like Europe and the United States. I don't know where it all went wrong, but I am guessing the corruption, greed, military coups and a very unequal distribution of wealth were some of the culprits.

We crossed over 9 de Julio and walked a bit through my old neighborhood from last year. It was nice to see it again, now lush and green with all of the trees full of leaves. We passed Palacio San Martin, one of the biggest and most imposing villas, which is now open for tours (and I don't know what other purpose it serves other than taking up nearly an entire city block).

We headed back up through the Recoleta along Posadas, and then back to Diane's for dinner. We had the ravioli and bolognese sauce we got at Mas Pastas around the corner from me, and Diane made a yummy salad with old bread, tomatoes and onions. It was a nice finish to a nice day...except that my feet were killing me.

I came home and soaked my feet a bit and went to bed, but actually had a hard time sleeping because my feet were throbbing. I don't know why suddenly I am having problems with my feet and my legs, but it is just one more things on my list of things I need to talk to my doctor about when I return to SF.

Today we have foot massages, we might visit Hernan and I'm taking Diane to Florida Street and Gallerias Pacificas. I will probably sit in a cafe while she explores the shops because I need to make sure I'll be able to walk when I get home!

Scary Christmas Eve

My pants are getting tight after only a few days of eating with Diane. I don't know how that is possible. It's not like we are really stuffing ourselves, or even like we are eating a lot, but the reality is, my pants are getting tight.

Diet and exercise begin when I get back to SF. For now, it's time to enjoy one last time what Buenos Aires has to offer.

On Tuesday evening we ordered a "picada fria" from the Sirian-Lebanese Club and had it delivered. We didn't finish the whole thing, so there is still some left for us to snack on today. It has hummus, baba ghanoush, tabouli, chicken with tahini, falafel, feta cheese, olives, and my favorite thing - myadara - which is lentils and rice topped with fried onions. Super yummy.

Yesterday Diane came by for lunch and I made penne with tuna, olives and sun dried tomatoes. It was a healthy lunch and we didn't overeat. We went to the Disco to pick up some stuff for Christmas Eve and Christmas dinners, went to my little produce market on the corner, and then went one block in the other direction to get ravioli and sauce (for today) and some little cakes (that we didn't need).

There is a bakery one block from here (I think that one block in every direction from here there is a bakery), called Aries. I can see the back wall of the bakery from my window with a big sign painted on it with their number for delivery.

Only recently I stopped in and saw that they have these little cakes called "masas finas". I just looked in my dictionary and "masa" is a combination of flour, eggs, and yeast. I guess it is dough. So these are "fine doughs?" Somehow that doesn't describe them, so I posted a picture.

They are really yummy little cakes with cream, mouses, fruit and dulce de leche. I got an assortment of 12. We each ate 2. The rest are in my refrigerator calling me to eat them for breakfast instead of fiber cereal and fruit.

After relaxing a bit it was time for our Christmas Eve spa treatments at 3. I had massages scheduled for us. We went to Aqua Vita and it turned out our appointments were for 1, and I had a 3 p.m. appointment on Monday (which I thought was at 1). I got the two days mixed up, even though I had a card in my wallet with the times on it.

They were very nice, however, and let us get massages at 3. They even called Leiban, the guy who gives killer massages, to come back. Diane had another guy who gave her a light, relaxing massage, while I received Leiban's torture. He used his elbow and body weight to dig deep into my muscles, and when I'd scream, he'd dig deeper. It's the kind of massage I need and it is what I like. It was perfect. When we left at 4:30, we were the last ones there. Things had begun shutting down for Christmas Eve.

We took a nice air-conditioned taxi over to the Alvear Palace Hotel for our tea. I made a reservation, but we didn't need it. The place was pretty empty. It was not filled with its usual gaggle of conchetta's spending their husband's money, but instead, by an assortment of foreigners, like us. I guess all of the Argentines were at home doing whatever they do on Christmas Eve.

We started off with 4 crustless sandwiches. Then they brought out a three tiered plate with scones, little cakes and some savory pastries. After that, they wheeled out the thing that Larry calls the Iron Lung. A big glass case filled with cakes. We choose the Alvear palace specialty, which was a pastry made with layers of flaky filo dough with a layer of dulce de leche and a layer of creme inside. We could hardly make a dent in it, we were so full. As we were about to roll out of the restaurant, Mariano, our server, came back with two plates piled high with truffles. We declined.

We walked through the Recoleta, which was now deserted. The streets were very quiet and there was hardly any traffic. Diane went back to her apartment and I rested here.

At about 9:30, Diane came back and at 10:30 (or later?) we had our dinner. Usually I make the 7 fish dinner that my family does on Christmas Eve. Actually, my godmother used to make 13 fishes, but my mom did 7. I don't even think there are 7 possibilities of seafood here. I counted the tuna and penne we had for lunch and I think we ended up with 5 or 6. We had salmon which I crusted with black sesame seeds and pan seared, and topped with soy sauce, ginger, cilantro and chilis. It was very good. And we got two salads at the seafood shop because the shrimp were all cooked and frozen (our original plan was to make garlic shrimp). So instead we had octopus a la provencal, which I think just had parsley and oil. I added garlic and lemon, but it still needed something. The octopus was very tender though. And we had a seafood salad "a la caribena", which basically just had some red pepper chopped in it. I added some red chili, cilantro and lime juice. It turned out really good.

It seemed like a healthy dinner, but I felt really stuffed afterwards, even though we didn't eat a lot. I think the cakes from the afternoon tea were still in my stomach!

A little after midnight I walked Diane home because I wanted to see what the streets were like.

It felt like we were walking through a war zone. The streets were deserted. There were one or two taxis cruising down Santa Fe, but no cars. There were hardly any people on the streets. Some guys from the corner kiosko were standing outside of their store. A few people were outside of a restaurant smoking. Most restaurants were closed.

But the scary thing was the firecrackers. Loud booms could be heard all around. Some very close. People were lighting them on their balconies and dropping them. I imagined one dropping down the back of my shirt and us spending Christmas Eve in the Emergency Room of the Hospital Aleman. I was really afraid to walk Diane home but I didn't want her to walk home alone with the streets so deserted and firecrackers raining down.

I think Buenos Aires has a very dangerous element to it, even though I have not had any problems. I've been super cautious, and really haven't been in any position where I might be in danger. But Diane makes me worry. A few nights she insisted on walking me home, even though it was late. When I protested, she insisted more. Then, she'd insist on walking back to her place down Beruti, which is dark and does not get much traffic, instead of Santa Fe, which is well lit, had lots of people walking and has plenty of traffic. Even though I tell her it is dangerous, she insists on walking down Beruti. I just hope her luck holds out and nothing happens.

As I said good-bye to Diane, she suggested I walk home down Ecuador, which would bring me to Beruti. I thought it was funny that she was suggesting on this scariest of nights, that I walk down an even more deserted street with people dropping firecrackers from their balconies!

I walked down Santa Fe and was very glad to make it back to my apartment safe and sound.

Merry Christmas!

Diane!!!

Diane is here!

It's really nice to have a good friend visiting, especially now after I have been here for almost 5 months, I'm tired, achey, and pretty bored, but I know my way around quite well, and am happy to make the rounds of the must-see places. Diane is super easy to be with and has very few requirements, other than a need to shop. She likes to eat, which is important to me, and she's really chill and laid-back to hang out with.

Yesterday I wore myself out showing her around. Today I'm going to try not to walk as much.

I met her at her apartment, which is also one of the BA4U apartments. It's in a building on Santa Fe near Ecuador, where they have 11 apartments. They are all super chic. Diane's is a one-bedroom. The others are all studios. It is really nice, and makes my apartment look like a dump. She has a balcony in the rear and a patio off of her bedroom (which seems mostly designed for hanging laundry). It's nicely decorated and very comfortable. It even has really nice dishes in the kitchen. I would consider it for next year except I can not spend three months living right on Santa Fe. Walking out of my buidling every day onto a busy, crowded street would be too stressful. My new neighborhood is quiet, and even though my apartment is kind of funky, it has a nice terrace and kitchen.

So anyway, I met Diane, who was raring to go after 20 hours of travel. We went to La Payuca, a parilla near her apartment, for lunch. She had a steak and I had a few bites. It was perfect! I had a salad and we shared a provoleta (I had already eaten 4 empanadas before I met her because I was starving).

After lunch, we walked to the Recoleta Fair grounds and visited the cemetary. I actually found Evita's grave this time. 9 times out of 10 when I go there I am unable to find it. Evita is buried in the Duarte Family mausoleum. Duarte was her father who was married to another woman and had his own "legitimate" family. Eva was a bastard (can you say that about a woman?), and it was a scandal that she was buried in the Recoleta Cemetary. Apparently her body was removed several times, sometimes for safe keeping, but was eventually returned by her husband Juan Peron when he came back into power (so they say). Some people dispute that she is actually there.

From the cemetary we went to a money changer nearby. I was so lucky to find the money changer that Ralf recommended, because changing money can be a real hassle. We had to stand in line. Diane had to show her passport, tell them where she was staying, her occupation, her telephone number, and then they didn't have 100 peso notes (which was actually a good thing because they are so hard to break). Then she had to stand in another line to get her pesos. All the while, the security guard kept telling people to stand behind the line. It was super high pressure and very rigid. Worse than standing in line to go through immigration. My money changer is very low key. I give her the dollars, she gives me the pesos. No talk, no muss, no fuss.

By this point in the day we needed ice cream, so we went to my favorite Volta on Callao and Pacheco de Melo. I had maracuya and limon (lemon and passion fruit) which was very refreshing. Diane had chocolate and coffee. Very creamy. It was a yum.

I brought Diane back to Santa Fe and showed her where my money changer is, I showed her the Volta on Santa Fe, and we stopped in El Ateneo, the bookstore in the former opera house, and then headed over to Arenales, towards my place. We stopped in the foot massage place and made appointments for pedicures and foot massages on Friday. They are totally booked up now for the holidays and of course closed Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

We came to my place, skyped her friend Jonathan for his birthday, had a glass of wine and then went to Diane's Disco (the supermarket across the street from her building) and to her apartment and hung out a bit before heading out again.

I took her for a walk up Charcas and showed her the area where there are no cars, and lots of restaurants and cafes. We passed an Indian restaurant on the way and I asked Diane if she wanted to eat there. "Sure", she said. Which is her response any time I ask her anything. I love that!

We walked up Charcas, visited the little plaza in front of the basilica at the end, and headed back to Tandoor, the Indian restaurant. It was about 10:30 and the restaurant was packed. More people continued coming while we were there and when we finally left around 12:15, the restaurant was beginning to slow down.

The food was good, but not great. I've definitely had better. Still it was good to have something different than steak and potatoes!

I walked Diane home and by this point I could hardly walk. My feet were killing me, my legs were cramped. I didn't think I could make it the 5 blocks home. I tore off my clothes, brushed my teeth and collapsed in bed.

My building is normally very quiet. The only sound I can ever hear is a neighbor moaning (I assume she is having sex). It is funny that that is all I ever hear. Well, last night I heard someone watching TV. It must have been very late because I know I slept well and long and hard. I woke up and heard the TV which kept me up for a while until I fell asleep again and was woken up in the morning by construction.

Diane just called me sounding very worn out. I think the travel and all of the walking caught up with her. Today we're heading to La Boca and Puerto Madero. Tomorrow we have massages, which we both are going to need.

Relief

Yesterday was sweltering. It went up to 95F (35C) and was humid, probably making it feel like it was over 100. Old people like me can die in that kind of heat.

I didn't know it was so hot because I didn't leave my apartment until after 5 or so. I am not sure what I did. Since I finished classes and I permanently have the shutters in my bedroom closed (to keep it cool), I have been sleeping later. This means I am also going to bed later. I wonder if that is going to make it easier or more difficult to readjust to SF time.

So I got up late, spent hours playing on the computer (Facebook has become my preferred method of wasting time these days), ate breakfast and lunch, watched a rerun of America's Next Top Model, and finally couldn't take it anymore. I decided to walk up Santa Fe, towards Palermo (it might already be Palermo).

Once I started walking, I realized how hot it was. I was standing on the corner of Puerrydon and Santa Fe and the sun was beating on me and I felt like I was cooking. Fortunately, because of the heat, or because of the time of day, or because it was Saturday, or because it is close to Christmas, the sidewalks were not too crowded, until I got near to Alta Palermo Shopping Center, and then it was a zoo.

I decided to walk to Julian Alvarez and scope out my neighborhood for my return. I'm 99% sure I will be taking the apartment I looked at there. Norma doesn't like it because it has carpet. My only problem was that it kind of smelled (but there was someone living there). I liked the terrace and the kitchen, and after walking through the neighborhood, I like the neighborhood a lot too. There is a chino right across the street (convenient for those last minute runs for water, wine, or whatever), and there is cafe/coffee shop on the corner. There is a great seafood market two blocks away and as I walked by I saw piles of fresh Chilean salmon, and fresh prawns (which have been impossible for me to find). I know I'll be eating a lot of seafood when I return. It is also closer to Chinatown and within walking distance of Jumbo. Plus there will be a whole bunch of new restaurants and shops for me to explore.

After exploring the neighborhood a bit, I headed back down Santa Fe, and even though I was walking in the shade, it seemed hotter. And it seemed to get more crowded, the more I walked. I was constantly dodging people and thinking about Tess who said once when we were walking (pick a lane!) I'm not sure what she was referring to, but I thought it was funny how people here don't seem to walk in straight lines, but are all over the sidewalk.

I stopped at a shop that sells aromatherapy kind of stuff. Bath salts, bath lotions, sprays, candles, etc. I got some lavendar spray there and it is nice. Diane has problems sleeping, and I thought some lavendar spray and bath milk might be nice for her. I was standing in line sweating and the young woman in front of me turned to me and asked "is that for men?" At first I didn't realize she was talking to me as I was kind of zoned out with the heat and all, so she repeated it. I just shrugged, and said, "this is for a friend (amiga)" which made her question kind of moot. But I thought about the question and it seemed kind of odd to me. Being gay, I am less concerned if something is for men or women as I am with whether or not I like it. So can a man take a lavender scented bath? Why the hell not! I guess metrosexuality has not caught on yet here.

On the way home I passed a pasta shop and even though I have leftover salmon that is very tasty and healthy, I wanted some ravioli. I picked up a box of ravioli, a small container of bolognese sauce and some grated cheese. It cost me 19 pesos (about 6 dollars or less) for what turned out to be a wonderful dinner. The ravioli were small, but fresh and homemade. The sauce was also good. It is a dinner that my mother would have spent days making (between the sauce and the pasta) and for me took only a few minutes. One more thing I will miss - the fresh pasta that is everywhere.

Ah, and the relief? Today it is raining. It was gray and overcast this morning and it rained briefly, but then it stopped. After doing some editing, I decided I should go out earlier today and took a shower and got dressed for the gym. As soon as I was ready to leave, I looked out and it had started raining again. I didn't want to carry an umbrella and didn't want to get all wet, so I stayed in. The rain got heavier, but it also cools things down amazingly. It is in the low 70's now. Almost 20 degrees (or more) cooler than yesterday. I'm feeling a nap coming on, even though it sounds to me like the rain has stopped.

Today is my final day of boredom as my friend Diane arrives tomorrow. It will be fun hanging out with her my last week. She is one of the easiest people to do anything with. She likes to eat (which is a major pre-requisite for me), she is easy-going, super nice, and very low drama. I know she will have ideas about things that she wants to do, but I also know if I suggest something, she'll go along with it. I've been eating lots of salmon and trying to shed a few pounds in anticipation of spending time with Diane. Because she is so easy-going, and because I like to eat so much, I know we will be eating a lot as I try to introduce her to everything there is to eat in Argentina in one week!

Things I Like

I got my final Buenos Aires haircut today. When I came here my hair was pretty short because I had been going to barbers in San Francisco. I was wearing my hair short, and going to my regular salon was costing me $75 a pop. With my hair short, I needed it cut almost once a month, so it got out of hand. I found a barber in the Tenderloin, near where I work. He was an old Vietnamese guy in a funky little barber shop that was like it was out of a time warp. He cut mostly young guys who got funky gang member haircuts. I felt a little odd there. Then I found a gay barber on Market Street near Castro. I knew the place existed, but I never tried it. For $15 dollars, the guy used shears and cut my hair right before I left for Buenos Aires. It was a good cut, but it was not designed to grow in. As it did, my head got kind of furry and bushy. So, I went to Club Creativo for my first haircut.

The guy who cut my hair was the same guy who cut my hair last year when I was here. I really liked the cut he gave me last year. When I returned to SF, I wanted to keep the same shape. I went to a salon in the Haight and a women totally messed up my hair. I had to go to another salon to get it fixed, and that was how I ended up getting trapped paying $75 per haircut.

Well anyway, this guy, Uriel, gave me another good cut. But he kind of made me uncomfortable. He seemed like he was in a really bad mood. At least for $75 in San Francisco, I had a stylist who made conversation. He liked going to Thailand, so we'd talk about that. But Uriel, after asking me a few questions, just got busy with his shears, and gave me an amazing haircut, but not much conversation.

When it came time for my next cut, I just took a chance and went back to Club Creativo without an appointment. If Uriel was there and available, I'd go with him, but I didn't think I owed him any allegience.

He wasn't there, and I got another guy who also gave me an amazing haircut. When I say amazing, I mean that they use their shears like Edward Scissorshand. They snip and trim and snip and cut into the hair so that it not only lays right immediately after they cut it, but also grows in nicely. It was for that reason, that I was able to go without another haircut until today. I could have gone longer, but I didn't want to have to get my hair cut as soon as I got home. Instead, I wanted another cut that would grow in.

Men's haircuts here are varied. There are some guys with short hair (mostly gay), but not many. Most guys have long hair, and many guys have stuff going on in the back which I believe is still taboo in most parts of the US. I'm talking mullets, tails, shags, etc. I really like them. These are not your redneck, pickup truck, confederate flag kind of mullets. They look really cute. When I asked my former stylist, Brian, who studied psychology and stopped cutting hair, to cut my hair short in front and long in the back, he refused, saying, "I'm not giving you a mullet". So, here, I am very happy that I don't even have to ask, but automatically, my hair in the back stays long.

Well, anyway, today I went back to Club Creativo, again without an appointment. Uriel was not there, and his station looked very clean. I wondered if he didn't work there anymore. I saw the guy who cut my hair last time, but I didn't know his name and he didn't give me his card, so I felt less of an obligation with him than I did with Uriel. Still, I was glad that it looked like he would be cutting my hair.

The shampoo girl came and got me and brought me to the sinks where she introduced me to another woman who she said would be cutting my hair. The woman got up and leaned in for a kiss (for some reason I didn't kiss the guys before).

What amazed me was that this was the third stylist I've had there and again I got a great haircut. I was unable to really explain what I wanted, but she seemed to know instinctively. She built from the haircut I had previously and left the hair in the back longer as I wanted. And the best part was it only cost me about $14 or less.

I am going to miss cheap, good haircuts (even when I pay $75 I am not always satisfied, which is why I started going to cheap barbers).

From there I went to the gym for a bit, but it was too hot to work out. I then went to my favorite restaurant, La Cholita, which is a parilla, but is very informal and has a kind of hip feel to it. They have newsprint on the tables and a basket of crayons. I got a choripan, which would have been better if I hadn't tried to eat all of the bread and just ate the chorizo.

I came home and stopped at the fish store a block away and got a nice piece of salmon. I've been eating more salmon lately. I wish I had started sooner. The salmon here is great. It is wild Pacific salmon from Chile. It doesn't have that fishy taste that salmon sometimes has. I've been buying pretty big pieces, frying them and seasoning them with chile, soy sauce, cilantro and garlic. I then put the leftovers in the fridge and eat it for several days. It is great (next year I will be two blocks away from a good seafood shop).

I then went to my local corner fruit stand (pictured above) and got a half kilo of cherries. As we get closer to summer (with this heat, I still can't believe it is not summer), more and more fruits make their appearances. Cherries arrived a few weeks ago and I have been eating several kilos per week. They are really good. I usually don't like to buy cherries in the states because they are expensive and either they are sour or rotten. These cherries are really nice. They have great flavor and 95% of them are edible and really good. I also got some apricots, which are really small, but looked so beautiful with this nice pink blush (they are not as good as the cherries, but I'm not a huge apricot fan). I learned that they are called "damascos", which I didn't know. I think it is interesting, since they are probably named after Damascus, Syria. I picked up some peaches too.

The fruit here is very good. Reading other blogs, I've noticed it is something that other people comment on. I think there are probably a lot of farms in Argentina that grow more than just meat. I imagine that most of the produce is local, since imports don't seem to be big here. While we might have Chilean peaches in February that are picked while still green so they don't bruise on the long flight to the US, Argentines (like the Japanese) are limited to what is in season. But since it is locally grown, it is left to ripen longer, and when it arrives in the stores, it tastes like it is supposed to. I really like my corner fruit vendor and regret that I have not been going there more. I was feeling shy about speaking Spanish and didn't know how to ask for things (I have since learned), so instead I got most of my fruit at the Disco, where it is not as good.

So, as I count down the final days here, I am glad to be finding some things about Buenos Aires that I am going to miss. In San Francisco, there will be a lot of things that I will be happy to return to, but I will be sorry to leave behind good, cheap haircuts, wonderful local fruit and choripan!

Floggers, Chetos, and all of that stuff

One of the more interesting experiences for me was finding out about the world of urban tribes. I will have to find out if this phenomena exists in the US. Floggers, in particular, seem to be a real Argentine thing.

So, what is a flogger?

A flogger is a person (usually an adolescent) who posts pictures to a foto log. A foto log is like a blog, but with only photos. And that's it.

I did find Cumbio's flog. Now that I know she is a girl, she is looking pretty butch to me. There is a link to a picture of her "novia" or girlfriend, so I am wondering about her sexuality (not that there is anything wrong with that). It amazes me that by simply posting pictures of herself and her friends online, she has been transformed into a celebrity and even has a book that she wrote!

Here is the link to her flog.

The Massage I Needed

I just came back from the spa and I feel incredible. I booked a simple massage and steam which costs 120 pesos. At the current exchange rate of about 3.46 pesos to the dollar (more or less) that cost me about $35 USD. I could have booked 10 massages for what I paid to have my aura cleansed last week at the Faena Hotel and Universe!

Today I had a new guy who looked like he might have been either Brazilian or maybe Colombian or Venezuelan. He didn't look Argentine because he was black. Argentina conveniently disposed of all remnants of Africans in their populace sometime last century. Rumor has it that they were sent off to fight in a war against Paraguay, but that doesn't explain what happened to the women and children. I suspect a little hidden genocide there that is not being talked about.

Anyway, this guy, who never introduced himself (I later found out his name was Leiban or something like that) gave me the massage I needed. He asked if I liked it strong and I said yes. He beat the shit out of me!

I know some people do not like strong massages. They like the feeling of smooth hands gliding over their skin, just tickling the surface. Nothing drives me crazier than that. I hate massages that seem like they are going to get deep and do not. With Leiban, this was not a problem. He used his elbows and dug into my muscles, he beat me, slapped me, and practically laid on top of me. I was breathing heavily, moaning, panting, clutching the sides of the table, scrunching my face in pain - - - it was wonderful! Leiban succeeded where the pranic healer last week didn't. He not only cleared the angustia from my aura, he got it out from under my skin. I was tired, depressed and achy when I went in for my treatment. I felt like I had been resurrected when I walked out.

It was so good I scheduled another massage with him next Wednesday, and the following Monday. He is only there Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and I wanted to get as many sessions in with him as I could. I'm sure Diane will go with me and get her own treatments. I'm pretty sure she won't mind that I booked Leiban for myself and left her to get whoever else is available. I doubt that she wants to be beaten up on the massage table.

I'm now having a cuba libre (rum and coke). I bought a bottle of rum at the Disco last week as an impulse. I had mint and limes and thought I'd make mojitos. I made some the other day when Hernan came to visit, but they are quite messy. Rum and coke is simpler and cleaner (you don't have mint all over the place when you are done).

An update from yesterday on the book I bought. Turns out Cumbio is a girl. Her name was Agustina or something like that, and she changed it to Cumbio when she became a flogger. It was an act of gender-defiance. Her pictures did look a little fem, but that is not unusual for boy floggers. I love the book! It is very sweet, and makes me laugh. So far I've read only about how she got started flogging. I will search for her flog and post a link if I find it.

3 more days until Diane arrives and a little over a week until I go back to SF. Now that I've had my angustia removed, I hope I can enjoy this remaining time here, in spite of the scorching temperatures!

Countdown

I've officially been here too long. I am bored beyond belief. I believe extremes in emotion are doorways to transcendance. Therefore I hope I am on the verge of enlightenment. Otherwise, I don't know if I will survive the next few days.

Well, it isn't that bad, but it is pretty bad. Now that my language classes are finished, I have absolutely nothing to do. And to make it worse, even my Spanish teacher canceled our class tomorrow. Hernan has a friend visiting from Canada and he is tied up with her, and it is too damn hot outside to do much of anything that requires any walking.

Today I had to get up and get out early because Norma was coming to clean. I didn't want to get trapped. I pushed my luck, and as I was just about to leave, I heard the keys in the door.

"Hola", and then she began speaking (in Spanish) - 'oh you have only one more week I won't see you when you leave unless you want me to come here and say good-bye or we can just leave notes, I was talking to Ralf yesterday and I told him my client was going to rent an apartment with a beautiful terrace, I had a cup of coffee Colombian coffee, it smelled so good and the taste was so smooth, it was Colombian coffee, do you know Colombian coffee? How are you going to pass the holidays? Will you be here? My husband has to work until 9 p.m. on Christmas, so I will just spend it on my terrace with my kids. It is too difficult to go out, but for New Years we will go out. On Christmas I will just be on the terrace. I don't want anything complicated. I will wait until my husband returns from work....."

She said a lot more, but that is all I understood, more or less. I don't think she breathes. I was standing there with the door open and one foot in the hallway. Finally, she let me go.

I went to the gym where it was too hot to work out. I've been feeling like I might be on the verge of another meniere's attack again. I think it is stress, the fact that I have been eating too much salt, and this pain in my neck that just will not go away. I need to make a list of all of my ailments so that when I see my doctor in San Francisco, I can be sure to talk to him about everything that is bothering me.

I didn't stay long at the gym and knew I could not come home before noon. So I walked down hot and crowded Santa Fe and stopped in a bookstore to buy a book called "Yo Cumbio", which is written by Argentina's most famous flogger. A 17 year old boy, whose nickname is "Cumbio". I started reading it and am still amazed by the flogging phenomena (flogging = foto log = kids take pictures of themselves, post them on a foto log, other kids leave comments like "you are divine" and those who receive the most comments are transformed into superstars). It is wild. Now when I look in the shop windows on Santa Fe all I see are flogger fashions. I don't think I could ever be a flogger, but I wonder about Hernan. He was always taking pictures of himself in Buzios.

From there I went to El Ateneo, a wonderful bookstore on Santa Fe that used to be an opera house. It is one of those places you take visitors to impress them. It's also a nice bookstore. I posted a photo from the web until I can take my own.

There is a small cafe in the back, where the stage used to be. I stopped and had a coke and the air-conditioning was on and nice and cool. Now I know it is a place to duck in out of the heat. I then went and bought a Thai cookbook for Hernan for Christmas.

I came home and thankfully, Norma was gone.

I played on the computer for a bit until I started to get hungry. Even though I have some salmon and some tofu and vegetables in the refrigerator, I got a craving for pizza. I ordered a pizza and a calzone from Romario online, without having to talk to anyone. It was very easy, and one of the many ways I avoid speaking Spanish. My pizza came and somehow I got two pizzas - no calzone. Oh well, they were small, so I ate one while watching a movie and put the other one in the fridge for later.

Then I took a nap.

It is now 5:45 and I've wasted another day.

My friend Diane arrives on Monday. I have a few more days to keep myself entertained until then. Fortunately, I do have some editorial work to do and that helps me pass some time, but otherwise I have no idea what to do with myself.

Based on my ideas of what I thought I would accomplish on this trip, I have to say that I am feeling like a failure. I stopped tango dancing, my language exchanges didn't work out, and my attempts to meet people by studying languages other than Spanish also were a flop. I only hope that next year my health will not be such an issue, the weather will allow me to get out more, and I will meet some people to spend time with.

I guess it's time to watch "Everybody Loves Raymond".

Hell on Wheels

I decided to forgive Hernan for the mixup the other night. Even though I believe he was responsible (mostly) for it, I can't be sure that it was intentional (like he got a better offer at the last minute) and am more inclined to believe it was a result of his being so distracted and unable to focus clearly on life. He probably didn't connect my first text of the day "I have a lot of food" with our conversation about him coming over later. He was saying he was coming for a beer. I was assuming he was coming for dinner. The more I think about it, I WAS unclear. Being mad at him was making me feel bad and was not solving anything. I now know I need to be really clear with him, almost as if I were talking to a child.

On Friday, after I got back from the crazy city Buenos Aires had become, I don't remember exactly what I did, but eventually I took a much needed nap. I woke up feeling exhausted. Between the pranic healing and walking forever before finding a taxi (and being slightly panicked about it), and being mad at Hernan and feeling bad about Thursday night, I was drained. I woke up from the nap hearing a message on my answering machine. It was Hernan.

He sounded sad. I couldn't understand most of the message. I heard "ufa", I heard, "locura en las calles" (it is crazy in the streets), and even though I didn't understand the words, I heard that he wanted things to be ok between us. Then I looked at my cell phone and had several messages and a few other missed calls from him. One message said "it was a sad day, but even more if you are mad at me".

I took a while to wake up and didn't call him back, but when the phone rang again, I answered it. Of course it was Hernan (no one else calls me).

He asked if I was mad, and I told him yes, but that was not why I didn't answer his messages. I actually hadn't seen the messages until right before he called. He didn't exactly apologize, but said it was a misunderstanding. He said he hadn't received my response to his text saying I was at home, and when he called and I wasn't here, he didn't want to come here and find me not at home. Again, not connecting the dots. But could I be angry at him for not being in a state of mind where he could do that?

He offered to come by then, but it was nearly 10 p.m., and I told him it was too late. I left it as our first step towards repairing our friendship.

Yesterday after going to the gym, I had a long skype call with my co-authors in Arizona. I just love skype! We got a lot of work done, but I was drained afterwards. I wanted to do something different and had a lot of food still (plus more I bought yesterday to go along with everything I bought in Chinatown). I texted Hernan to see how he was and he called me back.

He was on his way back from his mother's in a remise (a private taxi) with his computer. This was his baby. He is preparing to put down some roots in San Telmo for a few weeks because a friend from Canada is coming to visit. I think this will be good for him - both the visit and having roots.

He invited me over for dinner before I could invite him here.

I thought about bringing everything that was in my refrigerator, but instead just bought what was left of the black rice and coconut milk and a mango I got in Chinatown.

He made an attempt to recreate the dish we had when we went to Chinatown a few months ago, which was a claypot dish with chicken and "three flavors" - garlic, ginger and soy sauce. It was pretty good, and I think better than what we had in Chinatown (I thought their version was too salty). He had a huge mango that was very ripe, almost to the point of being rotten. I thought it was over-ripe, but he disagreed. He put it in the pot with the chicken. That was a little strange. I think it would have been good added at the end, but not cooked.

Afterwards we ate the black rice with cocnut milk and mango.

I stayed for about 3 hours and left. I was still feeling tired. Now that he has his computer, which has a program for him to play DJ, he was totally obsessed with playing music. He had the music pumped up really loud and it was hard to talk. He told me he is in danger of losing his house. He owes 1200 pesos (about 400 dollars) for something, and lawyers are beginning to take steps to foreclose (my interpretation) and put his apartment up for auction. He said he was worried yesterday but since lawyers take all of January off, he still has some time and today he is not as worried. I was wondering why he doesn't try to find a job.

I feel sorry for Hernan. As I sat and watched him play music, which he loves, and he is much better than the DJ in the library bar at the Faena Hotel and Universe, and show me pictures that he has taken, I saw how talented he is. But for some reason, he is unable to find a path in life that will bring him satisfaction and also pay the bills. He seems like he is adrift at sea and doesn't know how to get the motor running. I feel lucky that I have a job that I love and also provides me a comfortable life. Sometimes I don't want to go to work, but after 5 months of being here and not having to work, I am really looking foward to returning. Work provides a lot to me besides money. I have friends I work with and I love my students and get a lot of satisfaction out of feeling like I am helping them and feeling appreciated by them.

Hernan seemed a little concerned about me going out to catch a taxi, which worried me. He was going to call a radio taxi for me. I thought I'd have no problem finding one. In fact it was not as easy as I had thought. I had to walk a few blocks in San Telmo towards Plaza de Mayo before I finally hailed down a cab.

I told the driver in my best Spanish "Arenales y Azcuenaga" and he sped off towards 9 de Julio. It was after midnight on a Friday night and the city was still very much alive, but the roads were not as crowded as during the mid-day crazies. Still, the roads had traffic. But my taxi driver seemed like he was in a very real hurry to get me home. He sped down 9 de Julio stopping abruptly at the red lights that we hit, which sent the bag I had sitting on the seat flying several times. He was listening to a cumbia radio station which was mostly commercials. Those loud commercials that are advertising the latest places to go and get lucky. I heard them say only 15 pesos for men (I didn't catch how much women had to pay, but maybe the ladies get in free). He seemed different from most taxi drivers I have had. Usually they listen to talk radio, but this guy seemed like he was on speed and was ready to go dancing.

He continued speeding down 9 de Julio, honking at anyone or anything that got in his way, and not just a little tap on the horn "be-be" kind of thing, but a serious, get the hell out of my way m-f-er kind of thing BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was feeling like I would be better off walking.

Finally I saw that he was going to turn off of 9 de Julio, thinking foolishly that we were at Arenales, I saw that he was turning on to Cordoba. He was sticking to the large, wide avenues so that he could continue speeding.

A cumbia song came on the radio in the midst of all of the commercials, and I tried to distract myself by listening to the music.

I was thinking of how lucky I am that I can blend in here. Even though I hadn't said much I was pretty sure that this driver, like most, thought I was from here, and that gave me some comfort. Last year my classmate Mike had a problem with a taxi driver when he gave him a 100 peso note and the driver said he had only given him 20. Mike's Spanish was really good, but physically, he was unmistakenly foreign. There was no way he could pass for an Argentine. I felt comforted with the fact that in all of my dealings with taxi drivers I had never been ripped off.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP!!!!

We whizzed down Cordoba past where we should have turned to get me to Azcuenaga and Arenales, but I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to blow my cover. So what if I had to pay a few extra pesos. I was afraid he was going to go to the next avenue, which was Puerrydon, but instead he turned on to Larrea, which is one block past Azcuenaga. Ok, not a problem.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP!!!!!

He blew his nose without a tissue out the window.

This guy was really starting to bug me. I was ready to get out and walk.

Finally, as we pulled up to Santa Fe, he asked if it would be ok to let me off at Arenales and Larrea. I told him Larrea and Berruti, since that was only one block from my apartment.

And then he said, in English, "where are you from?"

Damn!

I don't know what gave it away. Maybe my whole fantasy about me blending in here was just that - fantasy. Maybe I am totally obviously a foreigner, walking around in my shorts with the confused expression on my face and my Spanish that is not really as good as people say it is. Or was it because I didn't roll my 'rr' when I said Larrea? Somehow, this guy had figured out I was not from here. It made me like him even less. In addition to the nose blowing without a tissue, the speeding, the obnoxious beeping, he had the nerve to point out that he knew I was not a porteño.

Angustia

One of my favorite words in Spanish has become "lamentablemente". I started to like it when I was in the Dominican Republic this past summer. I heard it used a lot on the radio talk shows we listened to when my tour guide was driving me around. For me, it's easy to pronounce, even though it has a lot of syllables, and for that I like it. It means something like "regrettably", but I like the "lament" part, it sounds very poetic.

I think I must be drawn to suffering, because today I realized another word I like is "angustia". Last year I asked Hernan, "what is tango?", because I was always under the impression that "tango" was a dance only. Yet in my Spanish classes, we would listen to "tangos" and read and discuss the lyrics. I didn't even realize the songs had words. It seemed to me that my Spanish teachers were not as interested in the dance as they were in the lyrics as a sort of literary treasure of Argentina. Tango lyrics have actually influenced the Spanish that is spoken in Buenos Aires and there is a whole tango subculture that is filled with much more than dance.

So, in response to my question, Hernan said, without thinking, "it is angustia".

I translate "angustia" as anguish, but my Spanish dictionary has other definitions - affliction, anxiety, oppressive fear without exact cause, tightness, pain, suffering, nausea. Pretty heavy stuff. I like it because I like the combination of sounds - ahn-GUS-ti-a.

Yesterday Leo wanted me to tell him a story. I couldn't think of anything but one of my favorite stories from Eat, Pray, Love. Liz is talking with one of her conversation exchange partners and he tells her that every city has its own word - that word is what most of the people are thinking about most of the time. He said that the word for Rome was "sex" and for the Vatican, "power". He said that if your own personal word does not match the city's word, then that is not the place for you to live.

I think San Francisco and I have the same word, but I am not sure what that is. I think it something like "personal freedom" or "compassion" or "food".

So, I told Leo the story and then asked him, like I asked Hernan, what the word for Buenos Aires was. He said he didn't know, but asked me what I thought. I told him it was "tango". It seems pretty obvious that it would be, because that is what Buenos Aires is known for, but I meant tango in the deeper sense of the word, tango as it represents the fusion of many different cultures, influences, musical styles, tango as a complex expression of life, tango as a way of being that involves moving around obstacles gracefully, tango as anguish.

Today I had my treatments at the spa at the Faena Hotel and Universe. I was debating on whether to just take a cab, or take the subte to Catedral and then a cab from there. I went for the subway.

When I went down the stairs to Puerrydon, the ticket booth was dark, and it was clear that the turnstiles were not taking tickets. I walked through, thinking I was lucky to get a free ride (they do that from time to time, like when there is no change, or the ticket takers don't want to come to work). When I got to the platform, it was packed. It was clear to me that something was going on, and I didn't want to risk being late for my treatment at the spa, so I went back up to the street and got a cab.

It was difficult. All of the cabs were full. The guy I finally got took me on a scenic route of Buenos Aires to get to Puerto Madero. I was really tense by the time I finally got to the hotel.

The spa was of course very luxurious. It is on the second floor (actually the first floor the way they count floors here) of the hotel. I went up a mirrored and silver plated elevator and walked across a little mirrored and silver bridge to get to the spa. They were waiting for me.

I changed into the big fluffy bathrobe and had my deep tissue massage first.

I was feeling very discombobulated. I hadn't slept well because I kept thinking about the mix up with Hernan (which to me was more than a misunderstanding and I was hurt and angry), I stayed up late, I woke up late, and after the subte and taxi situations, I was really feeling off-balance. I really needed a massage.

The massage was good. I was thinking that I was going to cry.

I've heard sometimes that really good body work releases emotions. I actually imagined myself having a total breakdown, like screaming crying, and I imagined myself feeling completely spent, and cleansed when it was over.

It didn't happen. Instead my nose started running because I have morning allergies and I was mouth down on the massage table.

When my massage was finished I took a shower and went back and sat in the "relaxation room" which I thought was quite sterile and cold and not very relaxing at all. There were two silver chairs, a little table with a pitcher of water and some glasses and nothing else. The walls and floors were light gray marble.

A very waifish looking woman who sort of walked like a pixie came out from behind one of the glass doors and asked me if everything was ok. I told her I was fine. She floated out of the room through another door like a ballet dancer. I thought she was a bit odd.

The woman who checked me in, peeked in and asked me if I was ok. I told her I was. She asked me if I wanted to go sit in the relaxation room. I told her I thought I was already doing that.

I followed her through another set of glass doors and found myself in a darker space with rows of lounge chairs, some juice, fruit and nuts and some more doors. She told me there was the hammam (steam room) and dry sauna. I was welcomed to use both. I had my eye on the fruit and juice.

I helped myself to some juice which turned out to be mint tea, and some fruit and then sat in the hammam for a bit. It was very hot. More marble, which was very hot to sit on, and blue mood lighting. It was lovely and I was glad I had it to myself.

I got hot really fast and didn't want to be all sweaty for my pranic healing, so I put my big fluffy robe back on and went out and sat on one of the lounge chairs, helping myself to more tea.

Soon, a new woman was greeting me and escorting me to one of the treatment rooms. She said she was going to cleanse my aura using crystals. She asked if I had any pain. I told her my whole body was in pain, which is true. I have neck pain that comes and goes, my hips hurt, I feel like I have sciatica, and my feet hurt from the plantar facitis. I also told her about the meniere's. She said she would cleanse my energy body which would help my physical body.

I lay down on the table and closed my eyes and followed her directions to breathe in and out. I felt myself begin to relax. I felt moments of skepticism. Since she was not going to touch me and told me not to open my eyes, she could have been sitting there reading People en Español for all I knew. But I decided instead to trust that for the money I was paying, I was going to get a real energy cleansing.

I started to feel my physical body lighten up, become lighter. I felt like I was floating until I started to pay attention to the feeling too much and felt myself back on the table. I felt something where my sciatic nerve was hurting me, the pain became more intense, then I felt something in my stomach. Sensations and awareness of different body parts came and went, until I found myself becoming very aware of the fact that I was sort of snoring.

I have sleep apnea (on top of everything else) and when I lay on my back, it is the worst. In this half state of waking/sleeping, I was aware of moments when my lips would burst open from a puff of air. I don't know what that was about, but I've felt it before. It might be the apnea, which is basically me suffocating for a second or two before I wake up and start breathing again. It's lovely and leaves me waking up every morning feeling totally unrefreshed and cranky.

The last part of the treatment was me floating in this state between waking and dreaming, trying to maintain my deep state of relaxation while trying not to snore or suffocate. Eventually, I woke up completely and started to feel restless. The treatment ended right at that point.

The woman who worked on me told me my aura was filled with "angustia". She said it was not deep, not like a depression, but it was angustia.

I knew.

I was thinking that Buenos Aires is filled with angustia, and from the first week I arrived I began to sense it, I began to see it, it began to invade the cells of my body, and today I was feeling it. But after the treatment, no more.

I decided to walk to the subte, again deciding against a taxi (there was one right outside of the hotel).

I walked along the canal in Puerto Madero, debating whether or not to stop and get lunch. It was a nice day, not too hot and there were a lot of restaurants with tables set outside. But I wanted to get home. I had so much food in my refrigerator.

I walked too far and found myself at Buquebus, which is basically the end of Buenos Aires, so I had to walk back and try to get to Plaza de Mayo. I really walked alot. I went down the stairs to the subte, and the platform was full. It was hot, it was crowded. I didn't want to wait and get on a super crowded train full of anguished passengers, so I went up to the street and tried to find a cab. It was impossible.

I walked down Diagonal Norte looking for a cab, but they were all full. I walked to 9 de Julio and all the cabs were full. I walked down 9 de Julio to Cordoba, trying in vain to get a cab. They were all full.

The city was crazy (since I was in the microcentro, it was not surprising). Traffic was a mess, busses spewed black smoke as they rumbled around aggressively, homeless people sat on the sides of the sidewalks, some smelling very bad, people were walking in all directions, every third one of them smoking a cigarette, I was feeling stressed, hot, tired and wanting desperately to get home. I didn't want to have to walk all the way. I couldn't find a cab. I didn't see any other options.

Every time I'd stop and try to flag down a cab, someone would step out on the street in front of me and try. I knew that if there were any cabs to be had, they would get it first and then I'd be mad. I was feeling very frustrated and continued walking, getting closer and closer to home (but still far away).

Finally, a little old cab that was not a radio taxi pulled up to let someone out. I was standing in front of a hotel in the sun. The woman in the cab took forever to pay, gather her things and get out of the cab, turning to look in one more time to see if she'd left anything. I was ready to push her out of the way, but I still had some self-control.

Before I even started to get in, the driver asked me where I was going and told him Arenales and Azcuenaga. He then said, "get in" sort of impatiently, as if he'd been waiting 5 minutes for me to get in.

This cab was not the kind of cab I normally take. Usually I only take radio taxis because that is what people told me to do. And I avoid taxis that look like they will break down any minute. If I can, I avoid really old drivers. Today I had no choice.

This guy was old, his cab was old, and it was not a radio taxi. He didn't have the air-conditioning on (if he even had any), and I had to open the window for air, which was basically exhaust fumes. We putt-putted down 9 de Julio towards Arenales. He sort of drove between the lanes, not actually in one or another but swerving back and forth, as if his steering wheel didn't really work very well.

I said, "there are no taxis today".

He said, "yes there are".

I said, "there is a problem in the subte. I don't know what is happening".

He said, "si señor"

His response was one of those sing-songy responses that someone makes when they feel your pain. It reminded me of something I'd heard about some Eastern European cultures where people build rapport through shared suffering. One person will say, "oy, my arthritis is really hurting today", to which the other will respond, "I know what you mean, my hemmaroids are killing me, I can hardly sit", and voila! instant rapport. To outsiders it sounds like complaining, but actually it is a way of bringing people closer together.

The driver's "si señor" was a lament. It was a singing acknowledgement of the difficulty of life in Buenos Aires. It was anguish. We shared it.

I understood what Hernan told me last week about life here sometimes being too much - the blackouts because there isn't enough electricity, the strikes and protests and street closings, all contributing to him finally having to take anti-depressants.

As my taxi putt-putted down Arenales towards my much quieter, more comfortable "home" I thought about what seemed like a total breakdown in Buenos Aires. People are so frustrated that they are beginning to simply stop cooperating. Teachers, subway workers, senior citizens and just about every other group express their frustrations by disrupting life as normal. When the war in Iraq started, that happened in San Francisco. It had to. That was the only way anyone would pay attention to was happening. An illegal and immoral war was being started by an incompetent and illegitimate president and his cronies. Life as normal had to be disrupted for people to take notice. Yet no one did.

Here, the disruptions of life as normal have unfortunately, or lamentablemente, become life as normal, causing only more frustration.

As drivers honked their horns at each other and smokers blew their smoke in the faces of those standing next to them in this crowded, noisy, smoky, dirty city, I began to feel a sense of relief that I would be going home soon.

I hope I'll be leaving the anguish behind.