Hernan called me this evening and eventually came over. First he called on my cell and asked me to send him the number of my land line. I don't know why I couldn't just tell him over the phone, but probably he didn't have much time left on his cell phone. I sent him a text with the number of my land line and then he called me about 20 minutes later and said he was going to stop by, but asked me to send him the address. I texted him the address.
Figuring he'd want to have some wine and maybe something to eat, I went to the chino down the street and bought a 20 peso bottle of wine (about $7.00), and stopped at the empanada restaurant across the street and got some empanadas. The restaurant is run by a cute older couple. The empanadas came wrapped in green plaid wrapping paper. When the woman gave them to me I told her it looked like a gift. She smiled. She was very sweet.
I left the restaurant and crossed the street to find Hernan waiting at my door. What timing! We kissed hello and he looked at me and said, "oh, you are slim".
Music to my ears!
As I said before, Hernan is pretty straight forward. I don't know if that is typical for Argentines or not, but I actually like knowing where I stand with people. If my Spanish is bad, I want to know, so that I can work on it. If I'm getting fat from eating too much beef and ice cream, it is good to be reminded of it so that I can do something about it, or just accept that fact. So hearing him say I was slim was a good confirmation of my perception that I was able to shed the pounds from last summer (and hopefully a few more).
We came up and drank wine and ate empandas and caught up with each other. We spoke English. Eventually we'll switch to Spanish because it is easier for him and better for me.
I really enjoyed hanging out with Hernan. He's a very interesting, animated, slightly kooky person, but very sweet, good-hearted, and as I said, very honest. He caught me up on some of the drama in his life and also some of the drama of Argentina.
For him, one of the major things he had to do this year was go to the cemetary and get the body of his father who died 20 years ago and take him to be cremated. It sounds like it was very traumatic. His older brother and sister could not deal with it, so they had Hernan, who was 14 when his father died, take care of it. He was pretty traumatized by the whole thing.
In Argentina, there has been a struggle between the new president, Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner (who they call CFK - perhaps to associate her with JFK?) and rural farmers. According to Hernan, the farmers are beginning to do quite well and have been able to attain a somewhat middle class existence, send their kids to decent schools, etc., but CFK decided she should raise taxes on farm exports - according to Hernan, so that the revenues would benefit the people of Buenos Aires. He said this has been an ongoing struggle between rural and city dwellers (he kept calling them forest people, which I thought was a cute mistake so I didn't correct him). Apparently, the farmers, or forest people, are well organized now, and were able to hold massive protests, blockades, and even burn their fields, causing a huge cloud of smoke to cover Buenos Aires for several days (supposedly this was just a coincidence, but according to Hernan, it was part of their protest). It worked and CFK backed down.
After we polished off most of the wine and empanadas, I walked Hernan to the bus. Tomorrow he is moving out of the apartment he was renting in Palermo and staying with a friend for 4 days before he moves back into his own place in San Telmo.
San Telmo is the old part of the city where the rich first settled until there was a yellow fever outbreak and they fled to the northern part of the city, Recoleta, where I am staying. Now San Telmo is famous for tango, because it is supposedly one of the birthplaces of tango and there is a street fair on Sundays and people dance tango in the park. It will be fun visiting Hernan in San Telmo and getting to know it a little bit better beyond the tourist spots and main drags.
I feel so lucky to have Hernan as a friend. He is my little window into the "real" life of Argentina. I hope I will be able to have more friends like him here. People who will open their hearts and souls to me, tell me about their lives, and especially help me understand this complex, sometimes crazy country.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Steak and Ice Cream....oh no!
Now I know why I gained weight last summer.
I met a friend of Larry's today for lunch at El Sanjuanino, the little neighborhood place that is right across the street from where Larry stayed last summer. They have great empanadas, homemade pastas, good steaks, and delicious lentils. I had my first steak and it was yummy. It was grilled to perfection, had a really yummy taste and was perfectly done. I also had a salad. Last year the salads came with dirt. It got to the point that when we'd go Larry would ask for a mixed salad with no dirt. The servers would look confused and Larry would explain to them that their salads were dirty. Well, good news Larry - the salad had no dirt. It was really good. Nice clean lettuce, onions and yummy tomatoes. I usually don't like tomatoes in the winter because they have no flavor, but these were really good.
Larry's friend Richard was very nice. He's been here since the end of May and is staying a few weeks more. He's off to travel around Argentina for a bit and then back to NYC. It was good hearing his perspective on things and learning about some of his favorite places.
After Richard and I parted ways, I went back to the Buenos Aires Design Center in Recoleta, after first stopping at church. There is a really lovely little church next to the Recoleta Cemetary. I was there on Sunday, but it was mobbed, because the weekends are always mobbed there. I just wanted to stop in because it is a really pretty church. I bought a little souvenir and then went to the design center. It turns out that even though my apartment is furnished, it is not properly stocked for cooking. I bought some knives at the Design Center on Sunday and from what I've seen, they were a real bargain. And they are good knives too. Very strange that this very touristy place in the very posh Recoleta would have a bargain. So I went back today to see if I could find some pots and maybe some wooden spoons. I have one pot in my kitchen and a few small frying pans with no lids. If I really want to cook, I'm going to need more than that.
But I didn't find what I was looking for. The pots they had seemed expensive. I am hoping to find a set that is reasonable. I have a new project.
After leaving there I headed back home as I was feeling a bit worn out from having lunch. I walked down Pueyrredon Avenue hoping to find an ice cream store, and voila! There is was - Freddo.
According to my guide book, Freddo is not the best ice cream in Argentina. They say that there are smaller "artesan" shops that make their own. Freddo is a chain and is low on the run in terms of quality. I know that I like Volta better than Freddo, but since Freddo was there, in I went. I got a bitter chocolate and dulce de leche temptation (but think I got regular ddl). I went outside and too my first bite. Pretty damn good! The more I ate the better it got! I think they put something in it like nicotene that gets you addicted. Now I want more
I am trying to limit my ice cream and beef intake. I am tentatively saying no more than ice cream once a week. I guess I will have to limit the size too, because I could very easily eat a gallon in one sitting. Beef is easier to limit simply becasue I'm trying to budget as well and I don't like beef nearly as much as I like ice cream. Wow, Argentine ice cream is soooo good!
I'm sitting at my desk now and the sun is coming in through the window. According to the little weather notes on my desktop, it is one degree warmer here today than it is in San Francisco (59 here, 58 in SF). Funny that winter here is warmer than summer there.
I think I am going to take a nap and then either hook up with my new conversation partner (if I get back to him) or walk over to the tango school and pick up a schedule. I am sort of pushing myself to get out and join in some tango activities. I was invited to the queer milonga tonight by a guy I met online, but am feeling weird about going, first because I don't know this guy and second because my experience at that milonga was not the best. I am also having tango anxiety. Even though I really love tango, actually getting out there and dancing at the level that I am at, causes me a great deal of stress, especially if it involves dancing with strangers. The person I most love to dance with is my teacher Amy, in San Francisco, becasue she is always so patient and throws out compliments like beads at Mardi Gras (whatever that means). What I mean is that she is very encouraging and never critical, and she is a good tango dancer.
Tomorrow I have a busy day lined up. First I have my private tango lesson with Marcelo, my teacher from last year. I look forward to him saying "mas pivot" - telling me to pivot my hips more - or maybe he won't say that, a sure sign that I have improved. After that, I am meeting Juliana, Larry's ex-Spanish teacher who I met last year and really liked. I am going to have private Spanish lessons with her once a week. It looks like tomorrow will officially begin some of the routines I am setting up for me that will set the tone for my stay here.
Once things get rolling, I will be having Italian and Arabic once a week (two different days) and a private Spanish lesson and one private tango lesson, also once a week (probably also two different days). On top of that, I am trying to set up some language exchange partners and once all that is set, I will be taking tango classes at the tango school. It looks like I am going to be pretty busy. The nice thing is that with the exception of the language classes, everything else will be pretty flexible and I will be free to take time off as I need it, or if I want to travel.
Ok, this sun coming into my bedroom is too much. I need to get back into bed with a book and take a short nap before I decide what I am going to do for the rest of the day.
I met a friend of Larry's today for lunch at El Sanjuanino, the little neighborhood place that is right across the street from where Larry stayed last summer. They have great empanadas, homemade pastas, good steaks, and delicious lentils. I had my first steak and it was yummy. It was grilled to perfection, had a really yummy taste and was perfectly done. I also had a salad. Last year the salads came with dirt. It got to the point that when we'd go Larry would ask for a mixed salad with no dirt. The servers would look confused and Larry would explain to them that their salads were dirty. Well, good news Larry - the salad had no dirt. It was really good. Nice clean lettuce, onions and yummy tomatoes. I usually don't like tomatoes in the winter because they have no flavor, but these were really good.
Larry's friend Richard was very nice. He's been here since the end of May and is staying a few weeks more. He's off to travel around Argentina for a bit and then back to NYC. It was good hearing his perspective on things and learning about some of his favorite places.
After Richard and I parted ways, I went back to the Buenos Aires Design Center in Recoleta, after first stopping at church. There is a really lovely little church next to the Recoleta Cemetary. I was there on Sunday, but it was mobbed, because the weekends are always mobbed there. I just wanted to stop in because it is a really pretty church. I bought a little souvenir and then went to the design center. It turns out that even though my apartment is furnished, it is not properly stocked for cooking. I bought some knives at the Design Center on Sunday and from what I've seen, they were a real bargain. And they are good knives too. Very strange that this very touristy place in the very posh Recoleta would have a bargain. So I went back today to see if I could find some pots and maybe some wooden spoons. I have one pot in my kitchen and a few small frying pans with no lids. If I really want to cook, I'm going to need more than that.
But I didn't find what I was looking for. The pots they had seemed expensive. I am hoping to find a set that is reasonable. I have a new project.
After leaving there I headed back home as I was feeling a bit worn out from having lunch. I walked down Pueyrredon Avenue hoping to find an ice cream store, and voila! There is was - Freddo.
According to my guide book, Freddo is not the best ice cream in Argentina. They say that there are smaller "artesan" shops that make their own. Freddo is a chain and is low on the run in terms of quality. I know that I like Volta better than Freddo, but since Freddo was there, in I went. I got a bitter chocolate and dulce de leche temptation (but think I got regular ddl). I went outside and too my first bite. Pretty damn good! The more I ate the better it got! I think they put something in it like nicotene that gets you addicted. Now I want more
I am trying to limit my ice cream and beef intake. I am tentatively saying no more than ice cream once a week. I guess I will have to limit the size too, because I could very easily eat a gallon in one sitting. Beef is easier to limit simply becasue I'm trying to budget as well and I don't like beef nearly as much as I like ice cream. Wow, Argentine ice cream is soooo good!
I'm sitting at my desk now and the sun is coming in through the window. According to the little weather notes on my desktop, it is one degree warmer here today than it is in San Francisco (59 here, 58 in SF). Funny that winter here is warmer than summer there.
I think I am going to take a nap and then either hook up with my new conversation partner (if I get back to him) or walk over to the tango school and pick up a schedule. I am sort of pushing myself to get out and join in some tango activities. I was invited to the queer milonga tonight by a guy I met online, but am feeling weird about going, first because I don't know this guy and second because my experience at that milonga was not the best. I am also having tango anxiety. Even though I really love tango, actually getting out there and dancing at the level that I am at, causes me a great deal of stress, especially if it involves dancing with strangers. The person I most love to dance with is my teacher Amy, in San Francisco, becasue she is always so patient and throws out compliments like beads at Mardi Gras (whatever that means). What I mean is that she is very encouraging and never critical, and she is a good tango dancer.
Tomorrow I have a busy day lined up. First I have my private tango lesson with Marcelo, my teacher from last year. I look forward to him saying "mas pivot" - telling me to pivot my hips more - or maybe he won't say that, a sure sign that I have improved. After that, I am meeting Juliana, Larry's ex-Spanish teacher who I met last year and really liked. I am going to have private Spanish lessons with her once a week. It looks like tomorrow will officially begin some of the routines I am setting up for me that will set the tone for my stay here.
Once things get rolling, I will be having Italian and Arabic once a week (two different days) and a private Spanish lesson and one private tango lesson, also once a week (probably also two different days). On top of that, I am trying to set up some language exchange partners and once all that is set, I will be taking tango classes at the tango school. It looks like I am going to be pretty busy. The nice thing is that with the exception of the language classes, everything else will be pretty flexible and I will be free to take time off as I need it, or if I want to travel.
Ok, this sun coming into my bedroom is too much. I need to get back into bed with a book and take a short nap before I decide what I am going to do for the rest of the day.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
I'm a Medical Fugitive
Today I went to the gym for my 10:00 medical consultation. I scanned my card and went through the turnstile and up to the 4th floor men's locker room, and knocked on the door of the medical office. No one answered. I stood there for a few minutes and got changed and went to work out.
As I was standing in front of the door I saw that there was a dress code. I didn't understand all of it, but based on what I saw the other day, I assumed I should to in swimming trucks and what I did understand was that I should wear flip flops. I didn't bring my flip flops with me to the gym, so I was not dressed properly.
As I was working out I was wearing my headphones and listening to my mp3 player. I imagined announcements - "senor Kappra please report to reception" or something like that.
After I finished my workout, I went back up to the 4th floor. I saw the doctor (who was quite handsome by the way - another of those Gray's Anatomy types), sitting in the waiting area talking to someone. As I was changing he went into his office and left the door open. I could have gone and knocked on his door and said that I had a 10:00 appointment but nobody was there when I arrived, but I decided to just skip the whole thing. I know my blood pressure and heart rate and all of my vital signs are quite good because I just had a check-up. I also was afraid he would scold me for not keeping our appointment.
As I was leaving, I saw him sitting back in the waiting area drinking an espresso. Now I wonder if I will be in trouble when I return tomorrow, and how long I can go and evade the medical consultation.
As I was standing in front of the door I saw that there was a dress code. I didn't understand all of it, but based on what I saw the other day, I assumed I should to in swimming trucks and what I did understand was that I should wear flip flops. I didn't bring my flip flops with me to the gym, so I was not dressed properly.
As I was working out I was wearing my headphones and listening to my mp3 player. I imagined announcements - "senor Kappra please report to reception" or something like that.
After I finished my workout, I went back up to the 4th floor. I saw the doctor (who was quite handsome by the way - another of those Gray's Anatomy types), sitting in the waiting area talking to someone. As I was changing he went into his office and left the door open. I could have gone and knocked on his door and said that I had a 10:00 appointment but nobody was there when I arrived, but I decided to just skip the whole thing. I know my blood pressure and heart rate and all of my vital signs are quite good because I just had a check-up. I also was afraid he would scold me for not keeping our appointment.
As I was leaving, I saw him sitting back in the waiting area drinking an espresso. Now I wonder if I will be in trouble when I return tomorrow, and how long I can go and evade the medical consultation.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Gym
I've been to gyms in many different countries. In Japan, one of the oddities was that they would not let you work out in shoes that you wore on the street. In Thailand, the gym was always hot. Here in Buenos Aires, my new gym seems almost like I am in San Francisco. I kind of blend in (at least I think I do), which I like.
Today I went back to Megatlon and signed up for 5 months. It cost me about $300, which I thought was kind of expensive. I wonder if a cheaper option exists. Part of the expenses of my membership include a medical consultation, which I am set up for tomorrow at 10 a.m. I guess they are going to check my blood pressure and all that so that I don't drop dead on the stairmaster (I just had a checkup before I left).
The morning crowd at the gym was pretty much like the morning crowd at my 24 hour, except that there are more older folks here, especially older women. I enjoyed watching them navigate the machines while I was warming up on the stairmaster (or whatever that thing is called - it is no longer stairs but more like skiing). One woman in particular seemed a little confused and I felt sorry for her. As she struggled next to me to find a way to raise the seat on a machine I reached over and helped her out. Most people just ignored her. Lots of guys were busy being guys, grunting and pumping and going guy things.
Gyms are funny places. They are very male spaces with all of the grunting and sweating and pumping and moaning that goes on. One thing which set this gym apart from any I have ever been to was the kissing. I wonder if I will ever get used to it. Here were these macho trainers walking around all pumped up, touching their clients as they worked out and kissing people, male and female, that they passed. People would come in for their workout and make the rounds kissing those they knew. I wondered at what point I would be able to enter the kiss circuit. I saw a few guys there today I wouldn't mind being kissed by :)
Today I went back to Megatlon and signed up for 5 months. It cost me about $300, which I thought was kind of expensive. I wonder if a cheaper option exists. Part of the expenses of my membership include a medical consultation, which I am set up for tomorrow at 10 a.m. I guess they are going to check my blood pressure and all that so that I don't drop dead on the stairmaster (I just had a checkup before I left).
The morning crowd at the gym was pretty much like the morning crowd at my 24 hour, except that there are more older folks here, especially older women. I enjoyed watching them navigate the machines while I was warming up on the stairmaster (or whatever that thing is called - it is no longer stairs but more like skiing). One woman in particular seemed a little confused and I felt sorry for her. As she struggled next to me to find a way to raise the seat on a machine I reached over and helped her out. Most people just ignored her. Lots of guys were busy being guys, grunting and pumping and going guy things.
Gyms are funny places. They are very male spaces with all of the grunting and sweating and pumping and moaning that goes on. One thing which set this gym apart from any I have ever been to was the kissing. I wonder if I will ever get used to it. Here were these macho trainers walking around all pumped up, touching their clients as they worked out and kissing people, male and female, that they passed. People would come in for their workout and make the rounds kissing those they knew. I wondered at what point I would be able to enter the kiss circuit. I saw a few guys there today I wouldn't mind being kissed by :)
The Smell of Buenos Aires
One of the things I said I wanted to do on this trip was to record the smell of Buenos Aires. I know that these first few days here, once I am recovered from the minor jet lag, will be days of hyper sensitivity to things like sights and smells. After that, I'll get used to things and stop noticing.
Well, it turns out it would be impossible to describe the smell of Buenos Aires. San Francisco has a very distinct smell, which for some reason is stronger when it is foggy, but also is not noticeable from every part of the city - I think it is the smell of the eucalyptus trees, but for me it is the smell of fog. It might be salt air plus eucalyptus.
I thought Buenos Aires had a distinct smell because I recalled something last year when I first got into my apartment. Now I think it was probably the smell of cleaning products mixed with exhaust fumes. My current apartment had its own smell, which turned out to be some home spray that is in the bathroom that Ralf probably sprayed before I arrived.
But walking through the streets today on a quest to find something to hang some clothes after I wash them (I decided I want to wash out clothes from the gym, underwear, socks, etc., rather than have to take them to the laundry), I tried to mentally record the different smells I encountered.
It turned out that the smells changed every few steps depending on where I was. The overriding smell however was of exhaust fumes, at least while I was walking down Santa Fe. Mixed in with that were smells such as food, pizza, beef, fried things, lots of different colognes and perfumes, cigarette smoke, incense (if I was passing a vendor selling incense), occasional dog shit and roasted candied peanuts. It also smells like spring.
Well, it turns out it would be impossible to describe the smell of Buenos Aires. San Francisco has a very distinct smell, which for some reason is stronger when it is foggy, but also is not noticeable from every part of the city - I think it is the smell of the eucalyptus trees, but for me it is the smell of fog. It might be salt air plus eucalyptus.
I thought Buenos Aires had a distinct smell because I recalled something last year when I first got into my apartment. Now I think it was probably the smell of cleaning products mixed with exhaust fumes. My current apartment had its own smell, which turned out to be some home spray that is in the bathroom that Ralf probably sprayed before I arrived.
But walking through the streets today on a quest to find something to hang some clothes after I wash them (I decided I want to wash out clothes from the gym, underwear, socks, etc., rather than have to take them to the laundry), I tried to mentally record the different smells I encountered.
It turned out that the smells changed every few steps depending on where I was. The overriding smell however was of exhaust fumes, at least while I was walking down Santa Fe. Mixed in with that were smells such as food, pizza, beef, fried things, lots of different colognes and perfumes, cigarette smoke, incense (if I was passing a vendor selling incense), occasional dog shit and roasted candied peanuts. It also smells like spring.
Conchetta, Hernan and Cartoneros
It is interesting being back and seeing things that only exist in Argentina, maybe only Buenos Aires. Things I had forgotten about, but when I see them, they appear as if they have always been.
Yesterday afternoon, after I returned from my walk, Hernan called. It was nice to talk to him. I love his Italian/Spanish accent when he speaks English. His life is not in as much crisis as I thought. I forgot, he has a tendency towards the dramatic. He is moving back to his apartment in San Telmo, and he is currently doing something to try to get some sort of grant or something. I'm not really sure for what. I think he'd just like to be able to stay at home all day and smoke and play music. He said he'd call me later this week to get together. I guess he doesn't want to appear too eager to see me.
At one point in the conversation he said, "oh my English is so bad." I said, "no, it's perfect", because it is nearly perfect. Then he complained again about his English, I said, "I can speak Spanish." and he said, "oh please remember those who have to talk to you!" - what a bitch! And I told him so. It was pretty funny. I forgot that Hernan can be quite blunt about things like telling me I'm fat or my Spanish is no good.
After receiving my anti-compliment from him, I was encouraged to go out for a walk and get something to eat. I walked up and down Santa Fe, enjoying the closed shops and light traffic, and finally got a hankering for a milanesa. Milanesa is anything breaded and fried. Chicken milanesa, or chicken cutlet, is really yummy here. I imagined a chicken milanesa with a nice side of steamed vegetables.
I finally settled on a restaurant called Pertutti, that I had passed earlier in the day. They had tables set up outside with heating, even though everyone is walking around looking like they are freezing. I took an outdoor table, only to realize it was for the smokers. Oh well, I had been breathing second hand smoke all day, so a little more was not going to kill me.
I ordered a milanesa plate that came with french fries and a fried egg, but I didn't want the egg, so I told the waiter I wanted the milanesa and fries. I think he brought me a regular order of fries. I also ordered a side of steamed vegetables. When he came to my table he was carrying three large plates. I thought he had an order for the two guys behind me. It could not possibly be an order for one person!
I had one large plate that had the milanesa. One large plate of fries (that were cold already) and one large plate of steamed vegetables - carrots, green beans, broccoli, spinach, potatoes, and corn. It was enough food for a family! Next time I'll skip the fries. The chicken was really good, and the veggies were also good (except for the spinach that tasted like dirt and the corn which was the worst corn I've ever had - I think it is the kind they feed pigs).
People walking by took a double take as they saw my large meal.
As I was sitting there, I saw that the evening ritual of searching for paper scraps in the garbage had begun. These are the cartoneros. People who come in from the outskirts of the city and open trash bags, resulting in piles of garbage strewn all over the sidewalks. I saw several people with bicycles fitted with big bins on the front to put their finds and others just walking with large containers.
Then a spectacle unfolded before my very eyes. A car pulled into a parking space right in front of me. As it went into reverse it slammed into the car behind it. Unfazed, the car pulled forward and went back into reverse and again - bam! I could not see who was driving or who was in the car, but it looked like there were several dogs in the back seat. One more time, the car pulled forward, and one more time it went into reverse and bam, one more time, hit the car behind it.
Then the doors opened, and out came the furs! The car was full of conchetta. Four women got out, all but the driver would qualify as conchetta finalists. They all wore big furs (thus I thought they were dogs) and had bleached blond hair. The driver wore a simple red sweater.
They trotted into the restaurant as the driver of the car that had been struck came out.
The driver of the conchetta saw the other driver leaving and came back out. After he pulled out, she got in her car and moved her car back into his space. She now had an area that was adequate for two and a half cars. As she pulled back, I thought she was going to hit the car behind her, which would have convinced me that she was not a bad driver but a car vandal. Satisfied after she had taken up most of the space, she got out and went into the restaurant to join her friends.
After I paid for my extra large meal (which cost me $20), I went to my local chino to get some bottled water. Along the way I passed a group of kids routing through the trash. They had a big bin in the middle of the block filled with paper and plastic bottles and as they went through some garbage half a block away they amused themselves by pretending they were muskateers. Another boy sat in a truck parked on the next street guarding their cache. I imagined some Faganesque character lurking in the shadows in the cab of the truck waiting for these boys to return with their riches. It reminded me that one of the things I'd like to do while here is learn more about the cartoneros and also where they live.
Yesterday afternoon, after I returned from my walk, Hernan called. It was nice to talk to him. I love his Italian/Spanish accent when he speaks English. His life is not in as much crisis as I thought. I forgot, he has a tendency towards the dramatic. He is moving back to his apartment in San Telmo, and he is currently doing something to try to get some sort of grant or something. I'm not really sure for what. I think he'd just like to be able to stay at home all day and smoke and play music. He said he'd call me later this week to get together. I guess he doesn't want to appear too eager to see me.
At one point in the conversation he said, "oh my English is so bad." I said, "no, it's perfect", because it is nearly perfect. Then he complained again about his English, I said, "I can speak Spanish." and he said, "oh please remember those who have to talk to you!" - what a bitch! And I told him so. It was pretty funny. I forgot that Hernan can be quite blunt about things like telling me I'm fat or my Spanish is no good.
After receiving my anti-compliment from him, I was encouraged to go out for a walk and get something to eat. I walked up and down Santa Fe, enjoying the closed shops and light traffic, and finally got a hankering for a milanesa. Milanesa is anything breaded and fried. Chicken milanesa, or chicken cutlet, is really yummy here. I imagined a chicken milanesa with a nice side of steamed vegetables.
I finally settled on a restaurant called Pertutti, that I had passed earlier in the day. They had tables set up outside with heating, even though everyone is walking around looking like they are freezing. I took an outdoor table, only to realize it was for the smokers. Oh well, I had been breathing second hand smoke all day, so a little more was not going to kill me.
I ordered a milanesa plate that came with french fries and a fried egg, but I didn't want the egg, so I told the waiter I wanted the milanesa and fries. I think he brought me a regular order of fries. I also ordered a side of steamed vegetables. When he came to my table he was carrying three large plates. I thought he had an order for the two guys behind me. It could not possibly be an order for one person!
I had one large plate that had the milanesa. One large plate of fries (that were cold already) and one large plate of steamed vegetables - carrots, green beans, broccoli, spinach, potatoes, and corn. It was enough food for a family! Next time I'll skip the fries. The chicken was really good, and the veggies were also good (except for the spinach that tasted like dirt and the corn which was the worst corn I've ever had - I think it is the kind they feed pigs).
People walking by took a double take as they saw my large meal.
As I was sitting there, I saw that the evening ritual of searching for paper scraps in the garbage had begun. These are the cartoneros. People who come in from the outskirts of the city and open trash bags, resulting in piles of garbage strewn all over the sidewalks. I saw several people with bicycles fitted with big bins on the front to put their finds and others just walking with large containers.
Then a spectacle unfolded before my very eyes. A car pulled into a parking space right in front of me. As it went into reverse it slammed into the car behind it. Unfazed, the car pulled forward and went back into reverse and again - bam! I could not see who was driving or who was in the car, but it looked like there were several dogs in the back seat. One more time, the car pulled forward, and one more time it went into reverse and bam, one more time, hit the car behind it.
Then the doors opened, and out came the furs! The car was full of conchetta. Four women got out, all but the driver would qualify as conchetta finalists. They all wore big furs (thus I thought they were dogs) and had bleached blond hair. The driver wore a simple red sweater.
They trotted into the restaurant as the driver of the car that had been struck came out.
The driver of the conchetta saw the other driver leaving and came back out. After he pulled out, she got in her car and moved her car back into his space. She now had an area that was adequate for two and a half cars. As she pulled back, I thought she was going to hit the car behind her, which would have convinced me that she was not a bad driver but a car vandal. Satisfied after she had taken up most of the space, she got out and went into the restaurant to join her friends.
After I paid for my extra large meal (which cost me $20), I went to my local chino to get some bottled water. Along the way I passed a group of kids routing through the trash. They had a big bin in the middle of the block filled with paper and plastic bottles and as they went through some garbage half a block away they amused themselves by pretending they were muskateers. Another boy sat in a truck parked on the next street guarding their cache. I imagined some Faganesque character lurking in the shadows in the cab of the truck waiting for these boys to return with their riches. It reminded me that one of the things I'd like to do while here is learn more about the cartoneros and also where they live.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Lazy Sunday
One of the things I love about Latin America is that there is always free, goofy entertainment for the kids. This picture is from the park outside of Recoleta Cemetary where there is an arts and crafts fair every weekend. Vendors line the sidewalks selling all kinds of crap, I mean, stuff, but here, on the grass was a little puppet show with lots of kids sitting, clapping, laughing and watching (with some parents). It was a really sweet scene.It was kind of a lazy day, a bit on the chilly side. I'm all unpacked and settled in my apartment. I had a bit of a hard time sleeping last night, even though this gigantic king size bed is REALLY comfortable, and the comforter, matress and pillows are just perfect. I'm still on SF time and after taking a nap yesterday afternoon, going to bed too early to really sleep (because I fell asleep watching Latin American Idol) and then waking up after a few hours sleep, I ended up getting out of bed this morning around 8:30 or so, and finally making it out of here around 10:30.
I went to the gym after my breakfast. There is a big chain of gyms called Megatlon. Last summer (winter), I didn't bother going because Larry told me they didn't allow monthly memberships, or it was too expensive or something. But I regretted not working out. Even though I tried to walk a lot, the beef, wine and ice cream eventually won out and I returned to San Francisco fighting to stay from moving up one waist size in my jeans. Now my jeans are loose and I want to keep them that way. That means lots of fruit and veggies, lots of fiber, lots of exercise and ice cream no more than once or twice a week (that daily habit I developed last year was not good).
Anyway, I wasn't sure how it would go at the gym, but it turned out to be quite simple. I arrived and told the young man at the desk I wanted to join. He asked for how long and I said 5 months. He then pointed to the printer which he was in the process of fixing with lots of paper all over the place and said something about it not working (I assumed) and told me I could register tomorrow. He did say I could just go and work out today though.
There were two turnstiles to enter the gym. I guess the idea was that you put your card on the turnstile and it lets you in. But, since things don't always seem to work here, there was a backup at the turnstile with a line of people waiting for a guy at the computer to figure something out. The guy behind the desk told him to let me in, and he asked the woman waiting at the turnstile to move while he buzzed me in. And up I went.
I entered the men's locker room and saw that all of the lockers had locks on them. Now I was confused. I didn't know where I was going to leave my stuff. I started getting changed and noticed another guy who was changing to up to a window in the locker room and leave his bag with a guy in another room. I then saw someone else come in and go to this little window and get his bag, so I figured that was what I was supposed to do. And that is what I did. The guy told me my number and when I finished working out I went to the window and told him my number and he gave me my bag. I guess tomorrow when I register, I can ask about lockers, but my guess is that you rent them, and it's probably better to go with the free bag check.
I then found my way down to the machines and had a pretty good workout, even though I was a bit unfamiliar with all of the machines and Argentine gym etiquette.
After that I came home and had some of the lentils I made yesterday with a nice piece of crusty multigrain bread and a half glass of wine. I bought I bottle of Malbec yesterday, but I have decided I don't really like Malbec. Or at least I didn't like this bottle. I've had some Malbecs that I liked, but it seems to me that they are not consistent and some of them are just too strong for me.
After lunch, I read in my guide book a little bit about points south, figuring that since I'm here for a while, I might head down towards the tip of South America. Still not sure - I will have to research that more.
After that, I decided to take a walk.
I knew that the artisan fair would be on outside of Recoleta Cemetary, and headed over there. It was nice and sunny and there was a lot to look at. After that, I found a little mall and went and bought some decent knives for my apartment and sat down at a cafe and had a submarino.
A submarino is a hot chocolate, and today was the perfect day for it. It comes as a glass of hot milk with a bittersweet chocolate bar on the side. You put the chocolate bar in the milk and stir it as it melts, until it becomes hot chocolate. I could develop a submarino habit, so I need to watch that as well, but it is so much better than coffee in my opinion, especially on a cold day.
Now I am back in my apartment. It's nice and toasty and my bed is calling me to get under the comforter with a book, which is what I am going to do. I may head out for a meal later, or go to the supermarket and buy something else to cook.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Post Flight...
Tired.
I arrived with no problems, or at least no insurmountable problems. The line at immigration was pretty long and moved along at a snail's pace. As we got closer to the little booths, we could see that one of the reasons the line looked so long was that there was a leak in the ceiling and they had part of the lining up area blocked off. There were two trash cans under the leak, which rained down at a pretty steady stream, while a young, handsome Argentine guy in a blue shirt, tie and gray slacks stood there and looked at it and every now and then shook his head in disgust. Occasionally, he would be joined by other similarly dressed men who would also shake their heads. I guess it was a disaster, but no one seemed to be doing anything about it.
As I got closer to the booth I started to get nervous. Would they ask me how long I was staying? What would I say? Would they ask me how much money I brought? If so, what would I say? Would they ask me about the drugs in my checked baggage? If so, what would I say? (prescription drugs, but 5 months worth is quite a supply) I saw other people being asked to produce things like boarding passes, other documents, etc. My boarding pass from the flight I was on somehow got lost when they checked my jacket. I didn't have any other documents other than the buquebus confirmation for me to go to Uruguay on September 24, but I didn't know if that would be enough. I had barely gotten out of San Francisco because the agent did not believe me that it would be ok. Maybe she was right.
Then came the moment of truth. I approached window number 6. I say "buenos dias" as cheerily as I could and handed the agent my passport and immigration form, which asked no questions about length of stay or purpose. He handed the form back to me to sign. He then asked me, "tourist?", I said "si". He stamped my passport and told me to have a good day. Phew!
What was the big deal anyway?
Baggage claim was nuts and there were none of those little carts you use to roll your luggage around, so I had to maneuver my laptop back, big backpack and two large wheely suitcases through another line (I forgot the airports here are all about lines and checkpoints) to put them through a radar screen. The guy only told me to put two plus the laptop bag but he didn't pay attention as they went through, so I guess security is pretty lax here. I made my way out to the arrivals lobby and looked for the little sign with my name on it.
This is the 2nd time I've tried arranging for transportation before arrival. This is the 2nd time I walked out and did not find the guy with the little card with my name on it. Struggling through the crowds with my luggage I looked at all of the cards with names on them but did not find mine. I walked through again, still nothing. I found a clearing, took off my jacket, finally found a luggage cart and loaded it up and then went through one more time. Still no card with my name. Frustrated I went to the window to get a taxi.
When the taxi arrived at my new apartment, Ralf was here waiting for me. I met Ralf last summer (winter) when he helped me after I locked myself out of my apartment. He also showed me a few apartments, including speedo, the place I'm staying now.
I told him the car didn't show up. He asked, "are you sure?" I said, "I didn't see it".
Ralf - "Well maybe you missed him."
Rick - "I looked three times."
Ralf - "Why didn't you call us?"
Rick - "I don't have your number"
Ralf - "Didn't Tomas send you and e-mail with our number?"
Rick - "Yes, but I had so many things to do before I left I didn't print it out. I assumed the car would be there. I have this confirmation with your company name on it, but there is no phone number (I didn't mention that I didn't have a phone or telephone card and it would have been a major hassle to call them).
Ralf - "Well that is strange because we use that comany hundreds of times and have never had a problem."
Rick - "Well, I looked three times and did not see him".
Ralf - "No one has ever had a problem before"
Rick - "Well, maybe I am the problem"
At which point Ralf finally gave it up and said I was not the problem. Ralf, by the way is German. I don't know if his insistence on being right is related to that at all.
He left me finally to unpack which I started to do. I hooked up my computer to the power strip I brought with me which I plugged into the wall with the adaptor I got at Bed, Bath and Beyond. As soon as I plugged it in there was a spark and a smell of electricity burning. Ooops. I blew out the adaptor and who knows what happened to the power strip. Fortunately, the computer is ok.
Then I went out to change money, get something to eat and buy a cell phone.
It's so nice to be here.
It is a little chilly. You can see your breath. They sky is overcast and gray. Everyone is walking around clutching their scarfs around their necks. There was a light drizzle and everything smelled moist and damp. Lovely.
I am only a few blocks from Avenida Santa Fe, one of my favorite streets. It is lined with shops and restaurants and was very busy this Saturday afternoon with people shopping, eating and just walking.
I passed a newspaper kiosk and there was a guy standing there talking to another man. The newspaper guy did one of the funniest gestures I ever saw. I almost burst out laughing right there and everytime I think about it I crack a smile.
Here is how you do this gesture.
Bend your arms at the elbows with palms facing up. Join the index finger and thumb on each hand. Now, keeping the elbows bent, raid your hands up to your armpits like you are going to pick something from out of them. Then quickly raise and lower your hands 4 or 5 times.
It was hysterical.
I changed money, bought my cell phone and went to a restaurant where I had 3 empanadas and a mixed salad.
This restaurant is a nice little corner restaurant on Santa Fe that I always looked at when I was here last summer but for some reason, was shy about entering. This time I was so hungry and didn't want to look any more, so I just went in, found a table by the window and placed my order. It was a very nice place. Lots of waiters, dressed formally with crisp white jackets, white aprons, white napkins in their aprons and black pants. They were very attentive. The funny thing though was that there was a soccer match on and you could hear the Village People singing YMCA. What a wonderful combination of things.
I am now back in my apartment and ready to take a nap. I got an e-mail from Hernan telling me he has to move and will be moving into his apartment in San Telmo on August 11. He bought an apartment before the peso crash of 2001 - a very smart move, since those who had money lost it, but those who bought property still have their properties at least. He is not working and said he had to rent his apartment last month because he needed the money, but will be staying with a friend until he can move back in. He's a funny guy this Hernan. I don't think he ever works and he always has financial problems, but he still seems to get by, staying at home smoking and playing music.
I e-mailed him to see if he wants to have dinner tonight.
For now, I am going to crawl into this very large bed I have and see how it feels.
It's nice to be here.
I arrived with no problems, or at least no insurmountable problems. The line at immigration was pretty long and moved along at a snail's pace. As we got closer to the little booths, we could see that one of the reasons the line looked so long was that there was a leak in the ceiling and they had part of the lining up area blocked off. There were two trash cans under the leak, which rained down at a pretty steady stream, while a young, handsome Argentine guy in a blue shirt, tie and gray slacks stood there and looked at it and every now and then shook his head in disgust. Occasionally, he would be joined by other similarly dressed men who would also shake their heads. I guess it was a disaster, but no one seemed to be doing anything about it.
As I got closer to the booth I started to get nervous. Would they ask me how long I was staying? What would I say? Would they ask me how much money I brought? If so, what would I say? Would they ask me about the drugs in my checked baggage? If so, what would I say? (prescription drugs, but 5 months worth is quite a supply) I saw other people being asked to produce things like boarding passes, other documents, etc. My boarding pass from the flight I was on somehow got lost when they checked my jacket. I didn't have any other documents other than the buquebus confirmation for me to go to Uruguay on September 24, but I didn't know if that would be enough. I had barely gotten out of San Francisco because the agent did not believe me that it would be ok. Maybe she was right.
Then came the moment of truth. I approached window number 6. I say "buenos dias" as cheerily as I could and handed the agent my passport and immigration form, which asked no questions about length of stay or purpose. He handed the form back to me to sign. He then asked me, "tourist?", I said "si". He stamped my passport and told me to have a good day. Phew!
What was the big deal anyway?
Baggage claim was nuts and there were none of those little carts you use to roll your luggage around, so I had to maneuver my laptop back, big backpack and two large wheely suitcases through another line (I forgot the airports here are all about lines and checkpoints) to put them through a radar screen. The guy only told me to put two plus the laptop bag but he didn't pay attention as they went through, so I guess security is pretty lax here. I made my way out to the arrivals lobby and looked for the little sign with my name on it.
This is the 2nd time I've tried arranging for transportation before arrival. This is the 2nd time I walked out and did not find the guy with the little card with my name on it. Struggling through the crowds with my luggage I looked at all of the cards with names on them but did not find mine. I walked through again, still nothing. I found a clearing, took off my jacket, finally found a luggage cart and loaded it up and then went through one more time. Still no card with my name. Frustrated I went to the window to get a taxi.
When the taxi arrived at my new apartment, Ralf was here waiting for me. I met Ralf last summer (winter) when he helped me after I locked myself out of my apartment. He also showed me a few apartments, including speedo, the place I'm staying now.
I told him the car didn't show up. He asked, "are you sure?" I said, "I didn't see it".
Ralf - "Well maybe you missed him."
Rick - "I looked three times."
Ralf - "Why didn't you call us?"
Rick - "I don't have your number"
Ralf - "Didn't Tomas send you and e-mail with our number?"
Rick - "Yes, but I had so many things to do before I left I didn't print it out. I assumed the car would be there. I have this confirmation with your company name on it, but there is no phone number (I didn't mention that I didn't have a phone or telephone card and it would have been a major hassle to call them).
Ralf - "Well that is strange because we use that comany hundreds of times and have never had a problem."
Rick - "Well, I looked three times and did not see him".
Ralf - "No one has ever had a problem before"
Rick - "Well, maybe I am the problem"
At which point Ralf finally gave it up and said I was not the problem. Ralf, by the way is German. I don't know if his insistence on being right is related to that at all.
He left me finally to unpack which I started to do. I hooked up my computer to the power strip I brought with me which I plugged into the wall with the adaptor I got at Bed, Bath and Beyond. As soon as I plugged it in there was a spark and a smell of electricity burning. Ooops. I blew out the adaptor and who knows what happened to the power strip. Fortunately, the computer is ok.
Then I went out to change money, get something to eat and buy a cell phone.
It's so nice to be here.
It is a little chilly. You can see your breath. They sky is overcast and gray. Everyone is walking around clutching their scarfs around their necks. There was a light drizzle and everything smelled moist and damp. Lovely.
I am only a few blocks from Avenida Santa Fe, one of my favorite streets. It is lined with shops and restaurants and was very busy this Saturday afternoon with people shopping, eating and just walking.
I passed a newspaper kiosk and there was a guy standing there talking to another man. The newspaper guy did one of the funniest gestures I ever saw. I almost burst out laughing right there and everytime I think about it I crack a smile.
Here is how you do this gesture.
Bend your arms at the elbows with palms facing up. Join the index finger and thumb on each hand. Now, keeping the elbows bent, raid your hands up to your armpits like you are going to pick something from out of them. Then quickly raise and lower your hands 4 or 5 times.
It was hysterical.
I changed money, bought my cell phone and went to a restaurant where I had 3 empanadas and a mixed salad.
This restaurant is a nice little corner restaurant on Santa Fe that I always looked at when I was here last summer but for some reason, was shy about entering. This time I was so hungry and didn't want to look any more, so I just went in, found a table by the window and placed my order. It was a very nice place. Lots of waiters, dressed formally with crisp white jackets, white aprons, white napkins in their aprons and black pants. They were very attentive. The funny thing though was that there was a soccer match on and you could hear the Village People singing YMCA. What a wonderful combination of things.
I am now back in my apartment and ready to take a nap. I got an e-mail from Hernan telling me he has to move and will be moving into his apartment in San Telmo on August 11. He bought an apartment before the peso crash of 2001 - a very smart move, since those who had money lost it, but those who bought property still have their properties at least. He is not working and said he had to rent his apartment last month because he needed the money, but will be staying with a friend until he can move back in. He's a funny guy this Hernan. I don't think he ever works and he always has financial problems, but he still seems to get by, staying at home smoking and playing music.
I e-mailed him to see if he wants to have dinner tonight.
For now, I am going to crawl into this very large bed I have and see how it feels.
It's nice to be here.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Pre-Flight....
I was cleaning the bathroom and thinking of that song - "I packed my bags last night pre-flight, zero hour 9 a.m.", but then realized I was not a "rocket man" so it didn't apply. I still haven't packed and it's 3:12 p.m. day before the flight.
And what a day it has been.
I've been sort of useless all week due to a number of little physical idiosyncrasies I have that pop up at the most inopportune moments. I don't remember when all of them happened, but they pretty much knocked me out of commission for the week.
I had this nasty heartburn, acid reflux thing going on over the weekend and early on into the week. Added to that was a flare up of meniere's, my inner-ear condition which when it flares up causes me to have vertigo and then collapse on the floor vomiting - one night this week I woke up and caught it in time to take a pill (to stop the vertigo). I could feel the race between the effects of the anti-vertigo pill and the vertigo, which once it started would have had me barfing up the little I ate before I went to bed (might have been some popcorn).
Then the acid-reflux (which would have been really nasty while vomiting) morphed into hiccups, which I get periodically from when I was 17 or so. They last on average 2-3 days, and make life SUPER miserable. My chest hurts when I hiccup, I can't eat or sleep and they are totally exhausting. I read about a guy who has had them forever. The first few times, this happened to me, after trying every home remedy that anyone knew, I went to the emergency room. Of course while there, they stopped, but then started again after I left. No one has ever been able to help me, until a few years ago when they happened on a weekend. I called my doctor and got this on-call guy who prescribed these pills for me that actually get the hiccups to stop - and then they knock me out. I guess that is how they get the hiccups to stop. So when the hiccups started this time, I took a pill. The pills I have are about 6 years old. It seemed to take a while to take effect, and then only temporarily. So I had to take several of these pills. I slept a lot, and when I was not sleeping, I was very tired.
I know that all of these things were stress reactions, but I didn't feel stressed out. After today, I see that I should have been.
Today I woke up feeling much better. No hiccups, no acid reflux and no vertigo. Ah, a good day!
I spent a long time in front of my computer this morning, just wasting time. I read some articles, checked e-mail, and just took my good old time getting moving. When I finally did move, it was to Bed, Bath and Beyond, after first making a stop at the Credit Union to get the last bit of cash I'm taking with me (no more traveler's checks after two horrid experiences in Mexico). I was going to BBB because I needed another travel adapter for my electronics - computer, toothbrush, whatever else. But really, I was going to get a new trash can, because, one of the most important things to do before a 5 month trip is buy a new trash can!
I was going to go into the full story of the trash cans, but halfway through realized it was not interesting. So off I went to leave BBB and return home.... it wasn't as easy as I thought. Traffic was crazy, streets were blocked, and on top of that, people seemed to have forgotten how to drive.
I finally got home and started with some of the chores that did not involve packing yet.
I put some laundry in the washer, started cleaning the floors and moving things into one corner of the room that needed to get packed.
In the middle of all of this I checked my e-mail.
I looked at some great pictures from Marcia's wedding. OH MY GOD! Marcia looks so beautiful and Frank looks so handsome. That photographer was GOOD! I wonder what kind of filters or touch-ups he used to make them look so good! Seriously though, they are amazing. Even if you don't know Marcia, check them out here. You have to scroll down to find Marcia and Frankie - look for the hillbilly wedding :)
I went on to check the rest of my mail until I got to the e-mail from United. It was a nice e-mail telling me I could check-in online. I didn't know I could do that for this flight, but I've learned that if it is possible, it is definitely worth it, as airports seem to have turned into mental wards.
So I went through the steps, filling in the forms, passport info and all that stuff to go through the online check-in, only to hit confirm and get a message that the time period of my trip exceeds the limit and I had to call a United Representative.
I called and dealt with that annoying computerized guy who likes to say, "I'm sorry, I did not understand your request". I like to curse at him because he's annoying and you can curse at him and not get into a big fight like you would with a real person.
Anyway, eventually he connected me to a live human who took a while to understand what the problem was. The problem was that because Argentina provides a 3-month visa on arrival, and it looked like I would be there for 5 months, it looked like I would be overstaying my visa. But, I had already planned on making a trip to Uruguay (and possibly other trips to other countries) so that at some point during the 5 months, I would leave Argentina, and return, and get a new visa on arrival for another 3 months. Simple, right?
Well, the agent I spoke to got it but didn't know what to do and put me on hold several times where I had to listen to that annoying United song and other announcements. I was in the middle of sweeping the kitchen floor and put the phone on speaker. Finally after being put on hold a few times I asked to speak to a supervisor. The agent apologized for not being able to help me. She was very nice.
I got the supervisor whose name was Penny or Sandy or Sally or something like that. I started off apologizing for bothering her, knowing that this was a simple problem of a computer not being able to comprehend the subtle details of my travel plans. Surely Sandy would and the problem would be solved.
First Sally started off by telling me about the visa regulations for Brasil. Since I was not going to Brasil, I stopped her right there and explained the situation - thinking that would clear things up. Penny instead told me that the regulation was that I was to have either a visa document for the entire travel period or I was to have visas for the other countries I was going to visit. When I told her that it didn't make sense to arrange the trip to Uruguay from outside of Argentina, she did not budge. Instead we got to the point where my heart was racing, I was feeling the strong desire to curse, and Suzie told me that she would refund my miles and we could cancel the trip! Or, she also said I could go to the airport tomorrow and be turned away there. She was going to make a note on my file that we'd had this conversation.
I told her I had a hard time believing she was being so cold about the whole thing. I had made arrangements for a 5-month trip, gotten a sabbatical, etc., and was not prepared to cancel it the day before. I told her I would go online and purchase my ferry ticket to go to Uruguay and bring that tomorrow. She was saying something when I hung up on her.
So, after getting my internet started again, which these days is the equivalent of starting an old lawn mower - I've been having internet connection issues and called India twice without getting them resolved, so I have to turn my modem off and wait for it to restart and hope I have a connection and if that doesn't work, I have to do it again until it does - I went on an found Buquebus, the company that runs ferries from Buenos Aires to Uruguay. I had to register for their site (which totally annoyed me) and then tried to buy a ticket to Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay in late October. I was not able to do that. I tried for earlier October. Still no luck. Visions of me at the airport with all of my luggage tomorrow unable to board the flight dashed through my head. I continued to try other options and eventually when I tried Colonia, the little touristy colonial town 3 hours from Buenos Aires, I lucked out.
I found the latest date I could, which turned out to be September 24 (I can always change it in Argentina), so that I would be able to return to Buenos Aires after October 1 and be able to ensure that my new visa would not expire before December 31 when I leave. I purchased my ticket, printed it out and called United back.
First I had to reboot my modem so that I could get the number.
I spoke to the annoying computerized voice, cursed at him when he didn't understand and eventually got an agent.
He was Indian.
I don't know if he was actually in India, but he was Indian. He was the third Indian person I spoke to today. I spoke to two Indian guys earlier when I called about my internet. I was annoyed earlier, probably because I was trying to do too many things and didn't like having to add calling India about my internet connection to the list of things I needed to do (of course I needed the internet so I could sit in front of the computer and waste time). I don't have anything against Indians, but I wonder why we sent all of these good jobs over there.
Sandy was from Chicago. She wasn't very nice though.
So this Indian guy listened while I rambled on about my issue with my ticket. When I told him I had a printed confirmation of my ferry from Argentina to Uruguay he said, "oh that sounds wonderful. I wish I could take that trip." So I asked him, "is this going to be ok?" and he said, "Oh sir, don't worry about a thing." I thanked him for helping to ensure that I would sleep tonight. He responded, "there is one thing you must remember - bring sunscreen and plenty of shorts".
I didn't bother to tell him it would be winter there.
And what a day it has been.
I've been sort of useless all week due to a number of little physical idiosyncrasies I have that pop up at the most inopportune moments. I don't remember when all of them happened, but they pretty much knocked me out of commission for the week.
I had this nasty heartburn, acid reflux thing going on over the weekend and early on into the week. Added to that was a flare up of meniere's, my inner-ear condition which when it flares up causes me to have vertigo and then collapse on the floor vomiting - one night this week I woke up and caught it in time to take a pill (to stop the vertigo). I could feel the race between the effects of the anti-vertigo pill and the vertigo, which once it started would have had me barfing up the little I ate before I went to bed (might have been some popcorn).
Then the acid-reflux (which would have been really nasty while vomiting) morphed into hiccups, which I get periodically from when I was 17 or so. They last on average 2-3 days, and make life SUPER miserable. My chest hurts when I hiccup, I can't eat or sleep and they are totally exhausting. I read about a guy who has had them forever. The first few times, this happened to me, after trying every home remedy that anyone knew, I went to the emergency room. Of course while there, they stopped, but then started again after I left. No one has ever been able to help me, until a few years ago when they happened on a weekend. I called my doctor and got this on-call guy who prescribed these pills for me that actually get the hiccups to stop - and then they knock me out. I guess that is how they get the hiccups to stop. So when the hiccups started this time, I took a pill. The pills I have are about 6 years old. It seemed to take a while to take effect, and then only temporarily. So I had to take several of these pills. I slept a lot, and when I was not sleeping, I was very tired.
I know that all of these things were stress reactions, but I didn't feel stressed out. After today, I see that I should have been.
Today I woke up feeling much better. No hiccups, no acid reflux and no vertigo. Ah, a good day!
I spent a long time in front of my computer this morning, just wasting time. I read some articles, checked e-mail, and just took my good old time getting moving. When I finally did move, it was to Bed, Bath and Beyond, after first making a stop at the Credit Union to get the last bit of cash I'm taking with me (no more traveler's checks after two horrid experiences in Mexico). I was going to BBB because I needed another travel adapter for my electronics - computer, toothbrush, whatever else. But really, I was going to get a new trash can, because, one of the most important things to do before a 5 month trip is buy a new trash can!
I was going to go into the full story of the trash cans, but halfway through realized it was not interesting. So off I went to leave BBB and return home.... it wasn't as easy as I thought. Traffic was crazy, streets were blocked, and on top of that, people seemed to have forgotten how to drive.
I finally got home and started with some of the chores that did not involve packing yet.
I put some laundry in the washer, started cleaning the floors and moving things into one corner of the room that needed to get packed.
In the middle of all of this I checked my e-mail.
I looked at some great pictures from Marcia's wedding. OH MY GOD! Marcia looks so beautiful and Frank looks so handsome. That photographer was GOOD! I wonder what kind of filters or touch-ups he used to make them look so good! Seriously though, they are amazing. Even if you don't know Marcia, check them out here. You have to scroll down to find Marcia and Frankie - look for the hillbilly wedding :)
I went on to check the rest of my mail until I got to the e-mail from United. It was a nice e-mail telling me I could check-in online. I didn't know I could do that for this flight, but I've learned that if it is possible, it is definitely worth it, as airports seem to have turned into mental wards.
So I went through the steps, filling in the forms, passport info and all that stuff to go through the online check-in, only to hit confirm and get a message that the time period of my trip exceeds the limit and I had to call a United Representative.
I called and dealt with that annoying computerized guy who likes to say, "I'm sorry, I did not understand your request". I like to curse at him because he's annoying and you can curse at him and not get into a big fight like you would with a real person.
Anyway, eventually he connected me to a live human who took a while to understand what the problem was. The problem was that because Argentina provides a 3-month visa on arrival, and it looked like I would be there for 5 months, it looked like I would be overstaying my visa. But, I had already planned on making a trip to Uruguay (and possibly other trips to other countries) so that at some point during the 5 months, I would leave Argentina, and return, and get a new visa on arrival for another 3 months. Simple, right?
Well, the agent I spoke to got it but didn't know what to do and put me on hold several times where I had to listen to that annoying United song and other announcements. I was in the middle of sweeping the kitchen floor and put the phone on speaker. Finally after being put on hold a few times I asked to speak to a supervisor. The agent apologized for not being able to help me. She was very nice.
I got the supervisor whose name was Penny or Sandy or Sally or something like that. I started off apologizing for bothering her, knowing that this was a simple problem of a computer not being able to comprehend the subtle details of my travel plans. Surely Sandy would and the problem would be solved.
First Sally started off by telling me about the visa regulations for Brasil. Since I was not going to Brasil, I stopped her right there and explained the situation - thinking that would clear things up. Penny instead told me that the regulation was that I was to have either a visa document for the entire travel period or I was to have visas for the other countries I was going to visit. When I told her that it didn't make sense to arrange the trip to Uruguay from outside of Argentina, she did not budge. Instead we got to the point where my heart was racing, I was feeling the strong desire to curse, and Suzie told me that she would refund my miles and we could cancel the trip! Or, she also said I could go to the airport tomorrow and be turned away there. She was going to make a note on my file that we'd had this conversation.
I told her I had a hard time believing she was being so cold about the whole thing. I had made arrangements for a 5-month trip, gotten a sabbatical, etc., and was not prepared to cancel it the day before. I told her I would go online and purchase my ferry ticket to go to Uruguay and bring that tomorrow. She was saying something when I hung up on her.
So, after getting my internet started again, which these days is the equivalent of starting an old lawn mower - I've been having internet connection issues and called India twice without getting them resolved, so I have to turn my modem off and wait for it to restart and hope I have a connection and if that doesn't work, I have to do it again until it does - I went on an found Buquebus, the company that runs ferries from Buenos Aires to Uruguay. I had to register for their site (which totally annoyed me) and then tried to buy a ticket to Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay in late October. I was not able to do that. I tried for earlier October. Still no luck. Visions of me at the airport with all of my luggage tomorrow unable to board the flight dashed through my head. I continued to try other options and eventually when I tried Colonia, the little touristy colonial town 3 hours from Buenos Aires, I lucked out.
I found the latest date I could, which turned out to be September 24 (I can always change it in Argentina), so that I would be able to return to Buenos Aires after October 1 and be able to ensure that my new visa would not expire before December 31 when I leave. I purchased my ticket, printed it out and called United back.
First I had to reboot my modem so that I could get the number.
I spoke to the annoying computerized voice, cursed at him when he didn't understand and eventually got an agent.
He was Indian.
I don't know if he was actually in India, but he was Indian. He was the third Indian person I spoke to today. I spoke to two Indian guys earlier when I called about my internet. I was annoyed earlier, probably because I was trying to do too many things and didn't like having to add calling India about my internet connection to the list of things I needed to do (of course I needed the internet so I could sit in front of the computer and waste time). I don't have anything against Indians, but I wonder why we sent all of these good jobs over there.
Sandy was from Chicago. She wasn't very nice though.
So this Indian guy listened while I rambled on about my issue with my ticket. When I told him I had a printed confirmation of my ferry from Argentina to Uruguay he said, "oh that sounds wonderful. I wish I could take that trip." So I asked him, "is this going to be ok?" and he said, "Oh sir, don't worry about a thing." I thanked him for helping to ensure that I would sleep tonight. He responded, "there is one thing you must remember - bring sunscreen and plenty of shorts".
I didn't bother to tell him it would be winter there.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Ready to Return
It has been almost a year since I found myself preparing to visit Argentina for the first time. Then, I knew little about Argentina. Now, as I prepare to return, this time for 5 months, I feel like I am returning home - going back to a place that is familiar.
Argentina has deeply affected how I see my world, and especially how I see my country. As I learned more about the military dictatorship, my reaction went from shock to curiosity. "How could that have happened?", I kept asking. I watched movies, read, and talked to those who would talk. The more I learned, the more I was horrified. 30,000 people disappeared - many taken away in broad daylight. Pregnant women were kept alive until their children were born, the babies then given to military families who could not bear children of their own. Secret prisons, illegal detentions, torture. It all seemed so evil, so incomprehensible.
And then I returned home.
I saw how the election of 2000 was actually a coup. The election was stolen - not by driving tanks and flying helicopters into Washington D.C. and killing the sitting president, but by engineering the vote, by denying thousands of people the right to vote, by manipulating the ballot, and by the actions of the president and campaign manager of the would-be president.
Once the election was stolen, the real crimes began. Were the attacks on September 11, 2001, really a surprise? Did the twin towers collapse only from the impact of the planes (many suggest there were explosives), was the Pentagon even hit by a plane (again, many suggest, even those who were in the Pentagon, that it was a bomb). Were we told the full truth about September 11? What is clear, is that September 11 was used as an excuse to take radical measures that might not have otherwise been taken. The Patriot Act severely limited our civil rights, allowed our government to spy on us and resulted in the "disappearances" of hundreds of individuals. Now we find out that there have been secret memos and discussions which approved the use of "aggressive interrogation techniques" - torture, rendition flights that carry detainees out of the country to secret locations where they are tortured and never heard from again - the abuses at Abu Graib are nothing compared to what is probably really going on behind prison walls.
9/11 was used to get our country into two wars, which are not going very well. Our economy is in a shambles. Our treasury has been drained, while cronies of the junta who stole the election in 2000 are recording record profits - oil company profits have soared, as well as private security firms, defense contractors and private prison corporations. Now immigrants are being rounded up and herded into detention centers. Proving to be extremely profitable, these dententions are only going to continue while the American people, distracted by rising gas prices, job losses and rising food costs look the other way. Schools and libraries are closing because there is not enough money. A city near San Francisco, Vallejo, has declared bankruptcy, claiming there is not enough money to pay for services such as police and fire departments, schools or libraries. Yet, more and more detention centers are being built. After the immigrants have all been rounded up, and these detention centers sit empty, who is next?
It is frightening to see the direction that this country has gone. It is even more frightening to see where it could go.
Argentina has helped me to see things that are so obvious that they are not visible. Because of the willingness of Argentines to examine their past, I was able to see our present. My questions about how something so horrible could have happened were answered, but the unexpected result was that I was able to see what is happening now in my own country. In spite of our "balance of powers" and "branches of government", when power becomes corrupted, anything is possible. Corporate lobbyists, politicians who are afraid to speak out against public perceptions of what is patriotic (supporting our troops means you can not be anti-war), and a populace that is numb, uneducated and unwilling to look at the hard issues, and would rather go along with patriotic, flag-waving, anti-someone else (Arabs, immigrants, liberals) feelings, than actually think that those we trust with our protection are actually the enemy.
I've learned a lot since my return from Argentina, and look forward to returning so that through their process of healing, I can learn more about how corrupt power destroys everything in its path, and how a nation can return itself to a righteous path. Plus, it will be good to get away from here for awhile. The more I learn, most recently about the growing trend of building privately run detention centers and detaining immigrants, the more concerned I become. I need to get away so that I can see how I might use my voice to wake up those around me who do not want to see what is happening.
Argentina has deeply affected how I see my world, and especially how I see my country. As I learned more about the military dictatorship, my reaction went from shock to curiosity. "How could that have happened?", I kept asking. I watched movies, read, and talked to those who would talk. The more I learned, the more I was horrified. 30,000 people disappeared - many taken away in broad daylight. Pregnant women were kept alive until their children were born, the babies then given to military families who could not bear children of their own. Secret prisons, illegal detentions, torture. It all seemed so evil, so incomprehensible.
And then I returned home.
I saw how the election of 2000 was actually a coup. The election was stolen - not by driving tanks and flying helicopters into Washington D.C. and killing the sitting president, but by engineering the vote, by denying thousands of people the right to vote, by manipulating the ballot, and by the actions of the president and campaign manager of the would-be president.
Once the election was stolen, the real crimes began. Were the attacks on September 11, 2001, really a surprise? Did the twin towers collapse only from the impact of the planes (many suggest there were explosives), was the Pentagon even hit by a plane (again, many suggest, even those who were in the Pentagon, that it was a bomb). Were we told the full truth about September 11? What is clear, is that September 11 was used as an excuse to take radical measures that might not have otherwise been taken. The Patriot Act severely limited our civil rights, allowed our government to spy on us and resulted in the "disappearances" of hundreds of individuals. Now we find out that there have been secret memos and discussions which approved the use of "aggressive interrogation techniques" - torture, rendition flights that carry detainees out of the country to secret locations where they are tortured and never heard from again - the abuses at Abu Graib are nothing compared to what is probably really going on behind prison walls.
9/11 was used to get our country into two wars, which are not going very well. Our economy is in a shambles. Our treasury has been drained, while cronies of the junta who stole the election in 2000 are recording record profits - oil company profits have soared, as well as private security firms, defense contractors and private prison corporations. Now immigrants are being rounded up and herded into detention centers. Proving to be extremely profitable, these dententions are only going to continue while the American people, distracted by rising gas prices, job losses and rising food costs look the other way. Schools and libraries are closing because there is not enough money. A city near San Francisco, Vallejo, has declared bankruptcy, claiming there is not enough money to pay for services such as police and fire departments, schools or libraries. Yet, more and more detention centers are being built. After the immigrants have all been rounded up, and these detention centers sit empty, who is next?
It is frightening to see the direction that this country has gone. It is even more frightening to see where it could go.
Argentina has helped me to see things that are so obvious that they are not visible. Because of the willingness of Argentines to examine their past, I was able to see our present. My questions about how something so horrible could have happened were answered, but the unexpected result was that I was able to see what is happening now in my own country. In spite of our "balance of powers" and "branches of government", when power becomes corrupted, anything is possible. Corporate lobbyists, politicians who are afraid to speak out against public perceptions of what is patriotic (supporting our troops means you can not be anti-war), and a populace that is numb, uneducated and unwilling to look at the hard issues, and would rather go along with patriotic, flag-waving, anti-someone else (Arabs, immigrants, liberals) feelings, than actually think that those we trust with our protection are actually the enemy.
I've learned a lot since my return from Argentina, and look forward to returning so that through their process of healing, I can learn more about how corrupt power destroys everything in its path, and how a nation can return itself to a righteous path. Plus, it will be good to get away from here for awhile. The more I learn, most recently about the growing trend of building privately run detention centers and detaining immigrants, the more concerned I become. I need to get away so that I can see how I might use my voice to wake up those around me who do not want to see what is happening.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)