Shout out to all you great mothers!!

Happy Mother's Day ladies! To all you amazing, wonderful, powerful women out there, thanks for all you do in this world! :)

BNF Trivia Night wins.

We got home on a Friday morning and on Saturday evening was Berkshire Nursing Families' (BNF) Trivia Night, my mom's big annual fundraiser. As the only child home, and a huge supporter of my mother and her cause, I decided I would make the trip back to Cheshire to volunteer at the event. The whole thing was a great success! Last year there were 17 tables and this year there were 28! They raised more than $20K and had lots of amazing donations from all over the community. People had a lot of fun, and for me its great to see everyone celebrating my mom and all of her hard work!

But, the ride there was very emotional for us. We took route 2 all the way, and when we hit the top of the mountain, we found ourselves surrounded by snow and ice. Huge snowplows could be seen clearing the road. Our initial impulse was to turn back, run! But the pull of my mother won out.


Thats pretty much when the denial set in...

Here are some pictures of BNF Trivia Night:

Blogger resurrection!

Life has been a whirlwind since we got back. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone jumped the-act-of-living ship, its been so long since I wrote. Plus, I have to figure out what to write about...a blow-by-blow of my day probably isn't the right direction to bring this thing. So while I work that out, I might as well keep ya'll up to date on me a little.

See, I have been afflicted with a major case of DENIAL! Its hard to accept that we are officially back and that its time to move onto the next step. That can be exciting, and seeing family and friends has been wonderful, but its still a sore spot. Plus, the way things have gone since we touched down, have thrown us for a little loop (sorry to rope you in Ab).

Here is a quick rundown:

The day before we landed at JFK, Abby's aunt, a 48 year old who has been a surprisingly happy and functioning quadriplegic for the last 25 years (living at home with her parents throughout this entire time), stopped breathing. She was resuscitated, and admitted to the ICU, where they put tubes down her throat to keep her lungs going. She was barely lucid, so when they had to take the tubes out (they can only be used as a temporary fix), the family decided they should do a tracheotomy and put her on a ventilator to keep her lungs going. She spent weeks in a state of acute delirium, not healing well and fighting one infection after another. They moved her to a rehab ICU, where she is currently. About a week after arrival, she sort of snapped out of her delirious state and finally began fighting for her life. Since then, she has been able to get off the ventilator for 4 hours straight and maintain a healthy oxygen level with limited vent help for up to 8 hours. The latest news is that they changed her trach to one that allows her voice box to function, so she can actually speak (not just whisper) and that she is eating real food (its blended up, but thats just a technicality). She has a long hard fight ahead of her if she wants to try to get off the vent, but she appears to be fighting, which is pretty amazing. We have no idea what to expect. But needless to say, its been an emotional, hospital-filled 6 weeks.

In addition, I am bouncing back and forth from Cheshire to Abby every few days. We have projects going in both places, so even though we are unemployed, we are still very busy.

We could use some hugs, so if you're around and have some free time, call us. :)

Hand-Me-Downs too big? No problem! Put on 10 lbs suddently? Snap one of these puppies on!

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HAHAHAHAHAHA! This is a MUST see.

Click Here: "The Perfect Fit Button"
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Smaht.

We are making chili, but this time, I wore rubber gloves whilst cutting the jalapeno.

Last Day in Paradise.

After Iguazu, we went into fast mode. Couple days left to do some important things and then pack and leave. Here is a brief rundown of our last full day in Buenos Aires:

- 45 mins @ post office waiting (it would have been longer but the man next to us took 2 numbers by accident and gave one to us - thank goodness because Abby was miserable, convinced we were wasting our time, and driving me nuts!). We finally get up there and pay but he sends us on our way before he actually puts the stamps on. We write off the postcards on the spot, assuming they will never see the shores of the USA. (Shockingly enough, at least most of them arrived at their destination within ONE week!)

- Returned to Comme il Faut to try to get a bigger size in the shoes I bought (and was absolutely in love with), but they said "Oh, we don't have these in your size" -without even looking! Anyone sense a lie here?- so I had to find another pair, and I didn't fall in love with any. I exchanged them for a beautiful black and pink set, but was really sad to see the originals go. (More on why I couldn't check the racks for myself will probably surface at a later date.)

- Spent about an hour and 1/2 at our Spanish school, trying to get our "Certificate of Completion" printed. We had been calling them and calling them, and they kept blowing us off. We finally got them to commit, because we were leaving the next day, but when we got there they were not done. We waited and waited, and finally, they printed them for us (basic printer job). Our names are backwards and the printer definitely needed a new cartridge but we cut our losses and went on our way.

- Then we headed home to pack, pack, pack!!

- After a couple hours we started to get cranky, a sure sign it is getting near dinner time (dinner time is 10 PM-ish, remember) changed up and headed out to Juana M, a super nice spot Jackie turned us onto in December. It is the one spot in the city we actually got a nice salad bar with a good selection! I had salad, lomo (sirloin) and chorizo sausage. One of the pieces of sirloin seemed to have been cut poorly but the other piece completely made up for it. We were stuffed!

- Headed home to put the final touches on our packing, and then cried ourselves to sleep.

New Pictures Added!

New pix added - first 2 weeks of February, Tigre and a little bit of everyday life.

There is Always an Upside

Iguazu Falls is made up of 2 U shapes, forming a curvy M with an "island" (I quote island because it is not a traditional island - I guess is is an illusion created by the change in height, because it is actually surrounded by water on all sides, I think - one side the river and 3 sides the basin created by the falls) in the center. Usually you can take a boat out to the island and walk some trails. However, for the last 7 or 8 months the island has been closed due to flooding.

On our way through the falls we came upon a park worker and started talking about the island. His words of wisdom were: Yes it is unfortunate that you can not visit the island. However, the surplus of rain makes it so that you are seeing the falls with much more water than usual.

Accentuating the positive, it is a beautiful thing.

The Power of the Falls

As you probably know, the falls form a portion of the border between Argentina and Brazil. However, you may not know that Americans (and I think only 3 other countries in the world) need a visa to enter Brazil. From what everyone says, it is important to see both sides of the falls for the full experience, as they are vastly different. From the Brazilian side, you get a panoramic view of the falls, but from the Argentine side you are literally close enough to touch them.

So of course we were hoping to be able to scope out both sides. We read that people sneak into the Brazilian side via bus or taxi, as the border control often let the public buses and taxis across without stopping them but we found out that if they did stop us and discovered that we did not have a visa, they would slap us each with a fine of $1900 AR, which is approximately $500 US. We were very sad to admit it wasn't worth it for us to take the risk.

So we woke up early and headed to the Argentine side. Although we heard there would probably be a long line, we paid our $85 AR and cruised right in. There are many viewpoints/trails that offer different perspectives of the size and power of the falls. Garganta del Diablo (Throat of the Devil) is supposed to be one of the most powerful views, and we found recommendations online that this should be the first place you hit, because it gets so busy later in the day. We had to take the train out there, and then walk for almost ½ of a mile over water. Lots and lots of water, and a rising mist in the distance. As we got closer, we started to hear it, and then on the right hand side we started to see an opening, where the water was being swallowed up.

Before I go further, I want to just say that aside from a few pictures that I randomly ran across (and one I quickly found and posted the link for on here), I had no idea what to expect from the falls. I really had not researched it, or looked at pictures online, so when we rounded the last curve and got our real first view of the falls, I was floored! It literally seems impossible that that much water could exist, never mind be plummeting over the ledges every single second. It is mind boggling. We giggled and smiled until our cheeks ached and then headed back to the train to check out the rest of the falls.

It was all amazing. Every different trail brought you to more and more falls. You saw them from the top and from the bottom, little ones, big ones, and massive falls that were so bubbly and thick that they looked like lambswool after a harsh winter. We saw so many rainbows and butterflies of every color, shape and size. After we made our way around all of the trails, we headed down to the water. We strapped on goofy, clunky, weathered life jackets, stowed all of our belongings in not so secure “waterproof” bags (luckily our things stayed relatively dry) and boarded a boat for our exorbitantly priced 12-15 minute ride on the river at the bottom of the falls and UNDER 2 of the falls! We got SOAKED, and loved every second of it. Abby got some great video on her waterproof camera.

After that we tried to hike a smaller trail to a waterfall where you can swim but it was closed for the day. We cut our losses, scoped out some of the gift shops, relaxed for a bit, and then headed back into town. We were soaked, tan & happy.

The amazing thing is that visiting the falls is like walking around Disney. It is so crowded and tourist driven. All the paths were paved and a bottle of water is 3 times what you would pay for it in the city. But not one of these things could diminish the absolute awesomeness of Iguazu Falls. Obnoxious tourists and all, it was incredible!

GÜIRA OGA

From the bus station, we made our way to the hostel that Lonely Planet “recommended.” Man, did they lose credibility on this one! The Peter Pan Hostel was a dump. En-suite double bunk rooms turned out to be 2 rooms with 2 bunk beds each, plus an additional single bed (9 in total!) all sharing one bathroom, in which there was no shower stall (or curtain for that matter) so no one could even use the toilet while one of the 9 people in the room were in the shower. Later, when we were planning our trip to the airport we asked the woman at reception if they would schedule a shuttle for us (we had the local number) and she charged us a peso to make the call. In addition, some of the girls we met asked the hostel if they could keep their things there for the day and use the pool before their evening bus out of town, and they charged them 10 pesos each. I have never heard of such a thing! We stayed at a place in Ushuaia who actually let us get some sleep in a closed-off common area for free before catching our bus. However, I will admit that the pool was spotless.
So after checking in (regardless of downsides, due to terrible reviews online of all other hostels on the list) we decided to check out Guira-Oga, a local animal rescue center outside of town. It was pretty cool. It is one of the few rescue centers that actually nurses and breeds both endangered and thriving species, with the purpose of releasing them back into the wild, if and when they are ready. The overwhelming and devastating destruction of the jungle has had a terrible effect on the animals, who have virtually lost all of their habitat to money-hungry developers.
All of the animals were very cool, but some of the major highlights were the friendly monkeys, the massive wild spiders and the eagles, falcons and owls!
After the tour, we headed back into town, grabbed a coffee, found a great Asian-inspired (very unusual and very welcome!!) dinner spot and then headed back to the Peter Pan to hit the sack. The plan was to head to Iguazu Falls bright and early in the morning!!

Headed to Iguazu Falls

Armed with only small backpacks (yes, small!) and a shoulder bag with our hiking boots and snacks for the trip, we left our apartment around 15:45 and made our way to Retiro to catch our 17:00 bus up north. If you look at a map, you will see that Iguazu Falls is tucked way up north in a corner, on the border of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. Because of this, we boarded our bus and settled in for a long journey...17 hours long!
The changes in scenery as time passed were very drastic. As we left the hustle and bustle of the city behind us, the landscape opened up to reveal marshlands, sprawling flatness and much more green. Although the green was beautiful, the marshes do not lend well to building, so shacks and shanties on stilts dotted the road. Families could be seen walking down the highway. On one occasion I saw a family of 4 on one bicycle. When the sun set, beautiful deep oranges, yellows and reds painted the horizon.
Overall the bus was relatively uneventful. No screaming children (well, almost), no bags of vomit, no overpowering fuel fumes. The only issue was one of the movies they showed (again!). This one was a French film featuring a wolf-turned-monster who attacked the town and ripped people limb from limb, (literally, I saw it happen)...and this does not even touch upon the very "grown-up" sex scenes and the children and teens on the bus. The bad part is, you cant escape the noise (moans, screams, tears, thuds). I put on my headphones and tried to tune it out but I swear it was the longest movie ever created. However, I will admit that it wasn't as bad as the horror film they showed on the bus in the Patagonia, but it was a little freaky.
The other 14 hours went pretty smoothly. In fact, the bus stewardess asked us to shut off our light around 11 PM because people were trying to sleep! Ab was a little upset because she only had 10 pages of her book left, but even in those circumstances she still had to concede that it was better than people up talking all night and lights shining in every direction.
At 7:50 AM, the stewardess - wait, she needs a better mention here. She was hilarious, teetering around the bus on high heals, humming and singing as she went - woke us up for "breakfast" (at least it wasn't ham, again). Although I would have preferred to skip it and sleep longer, she wasn't having it, so I removed my trusty neck pillow and made room for the pre-packaged breakfast trays and cup of tea con powdered leche. Waking up gave us a good opportunity to look around. The lush greenery and dense sprawling forests were a shock to the senses! Large and small ranch houses filled the clearings. But even more shocking were the bulldozers and the bald spots! Huge areas of the forest have been clear-cut. As a side note, I later learned that only 5% of the Argentine/Brazilian jungle remains. Even now, only small portions are protected from development.
We spent the last couple hours checking out the scenery and listening to the 80's pop music the stewardess put on the TV screens. It felt like a whole different world. At around 10:30, we rolled into Puerto Iguazu, grabbed our small (ha) bags and said one last goodbye to our trusty bus. 90 degrees of heat and humidity slapped us in the face as we alighted, but we were all smiles. Finally, we were going to see the falls!!

Mi pelo nuevo.

Lo siento, mis amigos.

I have so much to write about, but for some reason I can't get inspired to put it all down in writing. Plus the To Do List is taking up a lot of our time.
Iguazu Falls, Check!
Haircut, Check!
Comme il Faut, Check!
Fantastic bondage-meets-strappy sandals, Check!

Just so you know...

The falls are incredible!! =)

Rainbows are nature's gay flag

It is official. We have a bus ticket leaving tomorrow (Sunday) at 5 PM from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu. We also have a flight from Puerto Iguazu to Buenos Aires on Thursday afternoon. What happens in between is yet to be determined. Hopefully it includes sunshine & 120+ waterfalls.

Have a great week!

Braving La Boca

La Boca is a spot everyone must see when they visit Buenos Aires. At the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century, a huge influx of French and Italian immigrants landed in the port of La Boca and decided not to leave. Plagued by poverty, but filled with a sense of pride, they began to construct homes and businesses. As most of them worked in the port, they scrounged up any unused paint they could find at the shipyard to spruce up the exterior of the buildings. These bright colors (originally purchased to paint the shipping containers), that still remain today, are what draw people to the area as a tourist attraction. Now, business owners and street vendors have capitalized on the tourism by selling every kind of trinket and memorabilia in shops and kiosks lining every street. Tango performers can be found at each corner, and most restaurants employ tango dancers to entertain the patrons willing to spend top dollar for their food.

Yesterday, Abby and I crawled out of our cave at an early-ish hour, packed our pockets with only the bare essentials, grabbed the city bus book (its huge!) and headed out. The tourist location of La Boca is basically a 5 square block area, with a pedestrian street called Caminito at its center. The surrounding areas of La Boca are rumored to be extremely dangerous. In fact, we have heard multiple stories of people being mugged or assaulted when they ventured out into the local neighborhood. We even met 2 Israeli girls who got on a bus at Caminito but realized once the bus took off that they did not have any change (buses here only take exact change). The bus driver refused to take any bills, pulled the bus over and forced them to get off. Before the girls could figure out what to do (it was still daylight), they found themselves surrounded by a group of hoodlums armed with a gun. They handed over their purses, but not before one of them was pushed down so hard that she cracked her head off the curb. Luckily, aside from a lot of blood and a headache (figurative and physical), they are both OK.

Given that, we decided to take a cab directly to Caminito (we locked the doors when we got in because we have heard of people getting ripped out of cabs too!) instead of risking a bus not dropping us off exactly where we wanted to be. We made it there without issue and felt much more at ease once we saw the brightly painted buildings, the abundance of milling tourists and the tented walkways of a street fair (but still alert, no worries). We scoped out the local crafts market which was really beautiful and had very high quality goods. We bought a couple things (we only had a little bit of money stuffed in our bras or else we probably would have bought a bunch more!), wandered around the neighborhood, took pictures and relaxed by the water for a bit.

When we decided it was time to head back to San Telmo, we agreed that we wanted to give the bus a try. There are 3 privately owned bus companies that function within the city. We knew which buses dropped off in our area and we wanted to scope out a little bit of La Boca on our way through. Our first choice was Bus #20, but the driver was so rude to us when we got on, refusing to confirm our stop that we jumped off before the doors closed. The next bus, #29, was our second choice and the driver was much more helpful – even though he had cut outs of scorpions all over the front dash.

The bus only did a small circuit through La Boca before dropping us off safely in San Telmo, so we were not able to see much of the neighborhood but we were happy to spend $1.20 for the trip instead of the $15 for a cab. We headed home, made dinner and then took off to Abasto for the 22:10 showing of Avatar.

All in all, yesterday was a pretty productive day. La Boca: Check! Avatar: Check!

Avatar 3D, finally.

After weeks and weeks of trying and failing to buy tickets for a Wednesday night showing of Avatar in 3D (because they are half price - but they get booked up very quickly and the seats are assigned so you cant just show up early for a good one!), we caved and bought the full price tickets for tonight's 22:10 show. We had a little time discrepancy and ended up running a little later than planned, but we made it on time, got our tickets, our 3D glasses and our seats before the opening credits.

Abby's not a big movie fan, especially not main-stream, big screen movies, so it took me weeks to even convince her to go. My family swore by it, many friends swore by it and then finally, I think (don't tell her I said this), she actually got excited about checking it out. I know she was nervous about the fact that it was 3 hours long, but we got a medium popcorn, a water, and broke out the chocolate covered peanuts from the health food store that we snuck in and settled in for the long haul.

It opened up a little rocky with the military theme, but once they set foot into the forest, we were both hooked. I think the theme of the movie was what sucked us in so deep. I fought back tears at least 5 times (I always come out of the movie theater crying and it is so embarrassing!!) and felt so strongly about the mission of the indigenous people that I was actually angry! But the colors, the emotions evoked by the animals, the vegetation and the living creatures were really unexpected, and very welcome. When the lights came up after 3 very short hours, we were in total agreement: We loved Avatar! And she even admitted (shhhh!) that she teared up on a few occasions, too!

Looking back at the film now, it seems so connected to the problems of the human race as a whole. Not only are we destroying "mother earth" but there are those of us who don't even see the problem. We are happy to lay waste to the things that give us life, with $dollar signs$ in our eyes. It almost seemed like an intentional crack at the wars being waged today - against one another and the environment. What really got me, were the emotions on the face of the main female character when she was confronted with the death of any living creature. She was so powerfully sad. She truly respected each and every part of the forest. It was especially incredible when she did not even flinch at the sight of the main male character's human body. It was obvious that she found each and every living creature beautiful - that is something I can relate with.

Well, that was my experience anyway.

At the close of the movie we realized that we still had 1/2 of our ginormous tub of popcorn left (did you know you can get it sweet or salty here??), so we brought it along in case we saw a homeless person on our way home who might want it. We walked a ways but Corrientes was surprisingly free of anyone [obviously] in need. We grabbed a cab home. On our way out of the taxi Abby, with her sweet heart and her infinite wisdom, offered the popcorn to our taxi driver, whose eyes lit up at the offer! It reminded me of the time we were on a late evening bus from Rio Gallegos to El Calafate and we happened to be in the front seat. We were tearing off huge chunks of cheese and eating it with fresh bread. We offered the bus driver a slab and he was all about it. No problem that I tore both the bread and the cheese with my bare hands! He even accepted seconds. Man, I love Argentina!

From the Inside, Out.

There is always a major to-do list when you travel. Some people want to pack every bit of culture into 5 days and some people want to make sure they leave enough time to spare to either relax, or spend the evenings soaking up the bar or club scene. However, when you are actually “living” in a city, its very easy to get swept up into life and forget to take part in all the cultural, touristy things you would never have missed if you were only in town for a week. I found this to be the case in London and in Leeds, and now its the exact same in Buenos Aires. And now that we are down to the tail end of our trip, we have a to-do list the size of Texas and no possible chance we would ever be able to complete it.

The good news (for us) is that we have done so many things that have already made the trip amazing and culturally fulfilling, and have spent plenty of time exploring the city from the inside out --- as opposed to the outside in, as a tourist. But which is better? Of course they both have value. I was recently emailing with a friend of mine, about how easy it is to miss the things that really matter by over-jamming your schedule to see as much as possible in the time you have. What usually happens is that you come out in the end with hundreds of pictures that look almost the same, that could all pass for another city you have already been to one time or another. Essentially, you skim over the surface without actually absorbing any of the nuances, or characteristics that make the city unique, and therefore, it doesn't take root in your memory (and ultimately the character never finds its way into the photos taken, either).

I am not sure how well it has come through, but I have been trying to capture more than Buenos Aires: The City, in my photos --- I have tried to detail out a little more of the experience this city has to offer. It almost seems like a waste to me to neglect the culture or the details, like a missed opportunity to learn something. How can you truly experience a city without taking the time to observe the people who call it home? You have to try the food, walk the walk, talk the talk. So even though our to-do list will probably only decrease 1/3 by the time we kiss this part of our journey goodbye, we have truly invested in our lives here. And although we would love more time to settle in, study and give back, we feel good, because we have lived.

Scratch That

Change of plans...not leaving for the falls today. In fact, probably not leaving tomorrow. But we shall see.

Either way, off to enjoy one of our few days left in BA!

Gone Fishin'

Tomorrow we are hopping on the bus to Iguazu Falls for a couple days. The plan is to come back Friday (arrival on Saturday AM because the ride is 17+ hours), but we might stick around if the weather doesn't cooperate. So keep your fingers crossed that we get at least a day (or hopefully 2) of sun, and that we don't get tossed into Brazilian jail for sneaking across the border illegally...

I promise to be more diligent with my blogging upon return from this trip.

Oh yeah, and check out a beautiful picture of Iguazu Falls, if you haven't seen one yet (I'm really hoping my pics rival this one!!):

Click Here
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I Heart My Siblings!

It has been a fun-family-filled evening for me. First a great Skype chat with Robin, a 2 hour video call with Mary Rose and then almost an hour video call with Carlin & Amy that just ended a few minutes ago.

I have got to say, I have one seriously kick ass family. My siblings are so amazing and I am so lucky to have them all in my life. Be jealous, be very jealous!

Private Peter, this one goes out to you!

In just a couple hours my cousin Peter ships out of the Berkshires to spend a year + in Afghanistan. It has been really hard on our family to accept this fact, although we knew it was inevitable. But even though we all wish we could smuggle him into Canada so that he doesn't have to go, we know that he is tied into this mission.

So this post is a shout out to my cousin Peter, a really great kid, with lots of heart and so much to offer. We can not wait until he is back home safe and sound, but until then, there are a bunch of us who will be vibing health, safety and love in his direction.

Pete, we all love you! Be safe and be smart and know that you have an army of people back home who love you and can't wait to see your smiling face again soon!

Big Bellies Exposed!

Summertime in Buenos Aires is undeniably hot. Its not just the heat, but the overpowering humidity. Most shops and restaurants (I speak for San Telmo only here) do not air condition, and if they do, its minimal. However, we have been seeing more and more "skin" lately....and I'm not talking about skimpier clothes on the ladies. Apparently the men have decided that their mid-drifts (regardless of size or shape) are too warm to be trapped inside a shirt and to cool down, they pull their shirts up as high as they can on their chests for maximum airflow throughout the day. Today on our way out of the grocery store, a [large] man was entering with a woman in tow. She had on shorts and a modest, practical t-shirt (covering her whole stomach - that was surprising in itself), but his t-shirt was pulled up past his plentiful gut and resting on his nipples, exposing his entire mid-section to the world. Yum.

In addition, when it rains here, we appear to be the only ones wearing any sort of rain jackets. Some people have umbrellas, but the majority of people are just cruising around getting soaked by the downpour. However, what better way to keep your shirt dry than to take it off all together? Based on the number of shirtless men on the street this week, none.

Flooding in BA

Today, whilst enjoying a coffee at the local cafe, we caught a little bit of local news. In Palermo, a few miles away and somewhere we spend quite a bit of time (many milongas are in that area), there was extreme flooding today. In some places, the water was up to people's waists. The local police had ropes tied up so that people could hold onto them as they waded through the filthy water.

The waiter at the cafe said that the drainage system in Buenos Aires is terrible, and that flooding happens much too often. I believe this because when it rains, water pools at the bottom of the stairs on the way into the subway. Sometimes it is a couple inches deep. In addition, we have seen people pour everything from trash to buckets of building paint down the drainage grates in the streets...that certainly can't help...

Jackie, I thought of you...if you don't even like to walk around when its raining because of the filthy water on the sidewalks, imagine wading through waist thick, mud colored flood water in the streets? Ew.

Chica Spotting

Today I saw my first female taxi driver in Buenos Aires. Rumor has it that there are somewhere between 38,000 and 50,000 taxis in the city itself, so that means that I have seen many a taxi driver in my 3.5 months here. I find that fact quite interesting.

Party in the Back.

Today on the subte, one of our fellow passengers had a hair-do that I can not let slide without a blog mention. I'm not sure if you are all aware but the national hairstyle here is the mullet. Abby and I are actually scared to get our hair cut (as you can see from the overgrown, shag dos we are sporting in my pics) because we don't want to end up mullet-ed. However, this hair-do took the mullet to a whole new level. The top half of his head was a buzz cut and then about half way down (top of ear level) it turned into mid-back length dreads. It was like rasta-wanna-be-gone-Argentine. There was even a bead or two. I went for my camera but got such a piercing death stare from Ab that I was forced to give that plan up.

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Tonight on our way back from a very nice dinner & helado with friends, we grabbed a Radio Taxi back to San Telmo (ONLY use Radio Taxi's in BA). Hanging from the rear view mirror was a thick pink ribbon from which many mismatched, odd, and dirty earrings were dangling. I thought maybe he was selling them (ew). Abby thought it might be some fetish thing where he keeps the earrings from women he has killed. Happily, we lived to tell the tale...

For your viewing pleasure:

Oh our way back from the cafe (coffee and flashcards) today, we saw a bum-looking-dude (dirty and probably homeless), wearing black jeans and (get this) a woman's white negligee. Yes, it was satin, with little white straps and a lacy design on the front. He was dead serious too. Things have got to be bad if thats the only shirt he can get his hands on...or maybe he didn't want t-shirt tan lines...or maybe he is coming out as a drag queen/trans? Now that I can support (but doubt). Either way, thought I would pass this comical (but sad) sighting on.

Valentine's Day Drama

Yes, I agree. Valentine's Day is absolutely a Hallmark, media concocted load of crap that encourages needless spending, and silly expectations. The part that bothers me the most is that it takes away the spontaneity of love and discourages creativity within a relationship. Never mind the fact that it makes single people everywhere feel like shit (I would like to remind them that probably half of the married folks out there wish they were single again!). But you can also look at it as another reason to celebrate love. You can make a kick-ass dinner and share massages. That costs nothing and is can make for a very nice night. Just remember, this shouldn't be the only dinner you cook, or the only massage you give!
Last year Valentine's Day was pretty fantastic. I will leave out the gooey details because they are not “internet-friendly” but I will say that things just fell right into place and I couldn't have asked for better “circumstances.” (Just went into a 2 minute reverie remembering it...)
This year I wanted to do something simple, practical and cute. Nothing expensive, or over the top. I popped down to Abasto to pick up a little something...and 6 hours later I left the mall in a state of horrified shock. Yes, 6 hours. The people were rude, unhelpful, unwilling to work with me to figure out what I needed, even though I practically begged them (I broken Spanish) to take my money. All I needed was clarification of size (things are measured very differently here) but what I ended up with was dirty looks and shrugs saying “oh well.” I even made a bathroom pit-stop to regain composure and blot the tears from my eyes. Can you believe that?
After leaving the Abasto-Mall-O-Misery at 9:30 PM, I wandered around for a while trying to find a store that sold paper and pencils, and then grabbed the last train home. I texted Abby (who was pretty sure I was dead by this point) to tell her I would be home in an hour and took up camp at a local cafe (it was 10:30 PM by this time) to relax, have a coffee and make a card. Thank goodness THAT went well.
At 10:30 AM the next morning, I snuck out of bed and popped down to the local bakery to grab some pastries and stopped into the florist for 3 large, beautiful gerber daisies. I tiptoed back home (of course Abby was awake by then, so I told her to stay in the bedroom – damn!), and made a little breakfast spread consisting of 8 medialunas & facturas (yummy pastries), fresh-squeezed orange juice mimosas, flowers and the little gift I had purchased. We chowed down on medialunas, laughed about the drama of the previous day and got a little tipsy on the mimosas. It even turns out the gift might work OK.
Needless to say, we had a nice morning, but I officially have a couple extra white hairs from the experience and we are on a salad-only diet until we can get rid of the lbs we packed on from the overload of white sugar and carbs.
Worth it, you might ask? Eh, whatever.

Nuevo Photo Album Added

New picture album added this afternoon: The End of the World & Back - Ushuaia - Fin del Mundo. This is the final album from out trip to the Patagonia.

Enjoy.

The Valentine's Day Massacre

Last night when I got back from an extremely stressful (borderline horrific) day of Valentine's Day prep, I found Abby running around the house swatting at the air and yelping out at pain (spinning around like a dog chasing its tail)! After I stopped laughing, I found out the source of the running, swatting and yelping: mosquitoes!
Well in that case...I grabbed a nearby magazine and went to town. 30 dead skeets, 2 & 1/2 hours, and a nasty blood-spattered wall later, we were exhausted, covered in lemon pieces and ready to relax. Up to this point I had successfully fought off the scary skeets, but in a moment of unguarded "relaxation" I ended up with 3 bites! With the additional bite I got before actually falling asleep, and then one excruciating bite on my finger during the night, I ended up with 5, the most bites I think I have ever gotten in one night!! Those bastards must have been really desperate because usually they don't bit me.
The night was dubbed "The Valentine's Day Massacre" because of the bloody aftermath, and the guerrilla tactics used by all parties involved. I am happy to say that team C & A won the battle (although we mourn those valiant fallen soldiers that were lost during those messy hours)! :)

FACT:
Did you know that lemon makes mosquito bites stop itching? If you keep a lemon piece around and rub it on the bite it reduces the puffiness and removes the itch within a minute. It is fantastic!

El Tigre.

Yesterday we went to El Tigre, a town located in the Delta region, approximately 40 minutes outside BsAs by train. Actually, it is a bunch of islands, connected by rivers and canals. The locals use boats to get around because there are no bridges. In fact, the public transportation in the area are boats. You stand on the dock and flag them down just like a bus. Certain ones go to certain islands. We paid $17 AR for an hour round trip journey to and from a small island called Tres Bocas (3 mouths), where we wandered around, checked out the local houses, and almost got attacked by two scary, territorial, barking dogs (Ab was armed with a stick, thank goodness). This island was recommended to us by the tourist office because of its traditional homes & gardens of the Delta region. However, when we saw the return boat in the distance (we were trying to check out a local school and church), we took off running and luckily caught it as the last couple people got on. After the near death dog experience, we were quite finished with 3 Bocas.

After that we headed down the Puerto de Frutos (a local fair that was highly recommended), which turned out to pretty much be a pile of junk, grabbed a rip-off meal and then paid the $7 AR (they gave us the “locals” rate accidentally – nice! - was supposed to be $12 AR each) fare for the Tren de la Costa which was also highly recommended on reviews I saw online for its scenic views of the Rio Plata and the coast. However, during the 30 minute ride, we saw the coast for about 30 seconds. The benefits were the air conditioning, the spacious seats, and the view of the local color/poverty-stricken areas (heartbreaking) on the way.

We grabbed another train where the Tren de la Costa dropped us and headed back into the city. The area around Retiro (the train station) is one of the large slums in Buenos Aires. We passed shanty-towns and areas of severe poverty. That kind of thing really opens your eyes and reminds you to be thankful for what you have.

Other noteworthy items:
On the way there we took the regular commuter train with the locals ($1.35 AR). By the time we were 8 stops into the trip every seat was taken and there were quite a few people standing. I noticed that behind us there was an elderly Asian woman standing. She was an itsy bitsy thing, so instead of getting up (we still had quite a ways to go), we just pushed over and she squeezed in next to us (all three of us in 2 seats). She was so adorable and thankful.
We also saw a young kid (20 or so) that had huge blood-soaked bandages on his elbows and knees and his arm in a homemade sling. Aside from the fact that he looked like absolute hell and could barely walk, he looked so sad. We were really hoping he was on his way to the hospital.
When we got off the train and walked out of the train station we were in shock! Manicured lawns, cross walks, a rotary with flowers! We instantly loosened up the death-grip we have learned to keep on our purses.
We also checked out a small Mate Museum in town, which was pretty cool. Mate is a gigantic part of the culture here. There were many incredible artifacts and we enjoyed the 45 minutes or so that we spent there. Did you know that yerba mate is traditionally drank out of a gourd? If you want more info on mate, check out my earlier article:
http://corinisliving.blogspot.com/2010/01/rules-of-mate.html

Pics to come soon.

A Hot Pepper Burned Me.

Last night I had a little run in with a HOT pepper. I cut it up, tossed it in the soup and thought nothing of it. About 20 minutes later the skin between my pinky and my 2nd to last finger started to burn, along with the skin under my thumb nail on the other hand. I scrubbed my hand with soap and water and tried to ignore it but it kept getting worse and worse. After another 20 minutes I decided I had to do something, so I grabbed the low-fat milk out of the fridge, poured about a cup of it into a bowl and stuck my hand in it. It did nothing. I tried Neosporin and alcohol based hand sanitizer. I scrubbed it with a Brillo pad. I tried everything we had in the house. We had to go for whole milk.
At 10 PM, Abby (a true angel), went out to try to find some. About 30 minutes later (I was starting to get really nervous), she rolled back in with full fat CHOCOLATE milk and vanilla yogurt (everything was closed except the gas station across the 9th de Julio - a 16 lane avenue near our house - and this was all she could find). We determined the yogurt had more fat, so I dumped it in a bowl and stuck my hand in it. In this condition, I ate dinner and surfed the net for more solutions.
After about 30 minutes of solid vanilla-yogurt submersion (it actually smelled kind of yummy), the burn started to subside enough for me to wash my hand and go to sleep.
Surprisingly (it hurt THAT bad), there was no lasting damage and no pain in the morning. Thank goodness. Lesson learned.

This link proved exceedingly helpful in my time of need:
How to get hot pepper sting off the skin?

The Ugly Truth.

In less than one month, we will bid farewell to this wonderful city, our wonderful apartment and our 4 months of blissful freedom. In just one month and a couple hours, we will land at JFK Airport in New York.

Goodbye, I'm off to cry myself to sleep...

Irony #2

Tonight for dinner (because we didn't have water AGAIN), we went out to the sushi place a couple blocks away from our house. The waitress came over to the table and started speaking to us at a mile a minute in Spanish. She was very animated, with hand gestures and everything. After a little while, we determined that it would be impossible to understand her, so we asked her if she would speak in English (we knew she spoke English from previous visits). She said:

"Of course! You've been here before, haven't you?"

We replied, "Yes."

She then said, "So then you know we have an all you can eat option? And, you know I'm gabby."

Us: Blink, blink. Is she making fun of herself? Should we laugh?

Then finally, OH! Gabby! Her name is Gabby...how fitting!

You might have had to be there.

Irony

This week, Abby saw a city street sweeper put down his broom, take one final puff of his cigarette, and then toss it on the ground before entering a cafe.

Why?

Came home last night with a huge bag of veggies to roast in the oven (carrot, onion, red & green pepper, zucchini, potato & pineapple), and found we had no water. So we made rice noodles with peanut butter sauce instead (using bottled water). So tonight we are making a huge pan of roast veggies to make up for lost time.

It's pretty weird to lose water. This was the second time it happened. Why? No weather issues, no warning. Either way, we always keep extra bottled water in the house just in case.

***

PS. Is my blog so boring that it incites no comments from anyone (but my wonderful brother whose comments I love!)? Or are you in such agreement that you don't feel the need to comment? I do hope its not because you fell asleep on your keyboard. Haha, thanks for reading!

New Pix

New photo album added last night. #10: The Wicked Peaks of El Chalten. 2nd to last installment from my trip to the Patagonia.

I hope you enjoy them.

Evolved Thought

Last night we went out to dinner with a woman from the Netherlands that we met during our travels in the Patagonia. She was passing through BsAs at the tail end of her month-long backpacking trip through Argentina, so she sent us an email to see if we could do dinner.

We got to talking about life, and what we wanted out of it as individuals and as women. She told me that about 5 years ago her serious boyfriend (who she is no longer with now) had expressed interest in moving to Asia for work, and that he wanted her to quit her job and come with him. She was just beginning her career, and with no real experience (aside from the foot in the door she had) her resume would not give her much opportunity. So she told her boyfriend that if she was going to give up her career for his dreams, they would have to see a lawyer and draw up an agreement that guaranteed she would receive a portion of his income if anything happened to their relationship. She felt that if she was going to give up her opportunities, she wanted some sort of security for herself in the future. I thought this concept was very interesting.

From there we discussed my plans for the coming months and I expressed my internal conflict between my desire to have a high-power corporate career and my desire to be a humanitarian and travel the world. Right away she expressed that she feels similarly conflicted. In fact, in the Netherlands they actually acknowledge the feeling! Similar to the “Mid-life crisis,” they call it the “30's Dilemma.” Its a period of uncertainty, where you have to make large scale decisions about what path you want your life to follow. As a woman, do give up my career to have a family? Do I put off having a family (tick, tick, tick) for a great career opportunity? Or do I quit my job and take off to see the world?

Hearing her tell me about the 30's Dilemma was so liberating for me. Isn't that so evolved? To actually give value to that period of time. So many women feel their biological clock ticking and they truly have to make these decisions (I'm not forgetting about men, just speaking from what I know). But I think people in the United States (for many reasons I really wont get into here), just blindly follow a path that has been pre-determined for them. College, marriage, house, baby, TV, die. Or some variation of that, without the impetus to truly seek happiness or enlightenment (until its to late – the TV stage – another issue I wont get into here). But what if we actually recognize that there are options? That it is admirable (or even encouraged!) to seek the path less traveled, or more challenging because of the possible benefits? How empowering that would be! We might actually end up with a country of people who smile once in a while, or are grateful for what they have, instead of a bitter, entitled mass of people who end up unhappy because one day they wake up to find they are 50, broke, have 2 kids that hate them, a spouse they know nothing about, and that they spent spent 25 years in denial about their sexual orientation. Talk about a dilemma.

Imagine how many more happy people there would be out there if we actually encouraged people to get to know themselves before diving into a life they are not sure they want? Or allowing people to explore their options before getting married, having children, or burying themselves in a financial decision they can never get out of? I love the idea. In fact, every woman should have to kiss another woman and every man should have to kiss another man before they are given a marriage certificate! Or we can just do what we have been doing...living beyond our means, pressuring our children into marriage and ignoring the issue entirely if its more convenient! (I'm having a blast writing this!)

Oh, how I love the left! And I don't mean the United States left, I'm talking the Netherlands left!

Lessons, where you least expect them.

When you're young, its easy to make friends, and lose friends. You grow, or they grow, or someone moves and a tear or two fall but there is no lasting damage. However, when 18 turns into 28, things are different. All the time you had in high school or college to devote to whatever fancy crossed your path, has somehow dwindled into extremely valuable minutes extracted from a jam packed schedule.

At this point, friendship should feel good, it shouldn't be a hassle and it shouldn't be a guilt trip. I want different things. I understand the value of a true friend, and although acquaintances and crowds of people you would never share your secrets with have value, for a night or two, thats not what I am looking for. I want heartfelt friendship, where time and distance doesn't break us, where I know that they have my back before they even hear my side of the story, and they know I unequivocally have theirs. No judgments, no tears.

Its important to be good to yourself. While a true friendship is worth the fight, we need to learn to recognize the ones that offer less than they put in. Time is too valuable.

The reason I even mention this (at least one of them), is because Abby and I met a new friend recently. She comes from a very different part of the world, where our "lifestyle" isn't accepted, or understood, yet she has committed to accepting us for who we are. And its very interesting, because the value she places on our friendship is much higher than we find in western culture. Its a recognition of a connection that has been made, and no matter how much we put ourselves out there, a connection, at 28, or 30, or 34 IS special.

Every day is a learning experience if you're open to the lessons, and that is truly incredible. I love that those lessons often come when you least expect them. To our new friend, thank you for opening yourself up and allowing me to learn from you.

Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes

The Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes is a free museum located near the cemetery in Recoleta. We were told by a friend that it is worth the trip over, so we decided to check it out yesterday. Unfortunately, yesterday ended up being a terrible day for the journey because it rained and rained, but after much deliberation and a yummy coffee from the local cafe, we decided to go for it.

The main gallery of the museum was comprised of traditional 17 and 18th century paintings. There were a couple noteworthy artists, but not many noteworthy pieces. By the time we finished the main floor we were pretty disappointed and dreading the trip back home in the rain. We decided to check out the second floor, which contained works from Argentine artists. It was like night and day! There were quite a few modern pieces, as well as some older pieces depicting Argentine cultural and social issues. Some pieces were so uncomfortable and moving that they were hard to look at. I was extremely impressed.

Unbeknownst to us, there was also a 3rd floor gallery, with a small but relatively impressive photography exhibit. The carpets were moldy and dirty and the mildew smell and moisture in the air must not be good for the photography, but the walk through was worth the discomfort. One interesting piece was a photograph of a yearbook shot taken of a Buenos Aires elementary school class (date unknown, but possibly from the 1950s or 60s), on which the artist had written details of what she knew about each classmate, all these years later. Additionally, there were some shots of the Argentine countryside and village culture. But, above all else, one large scale colored photograph caught my attention the most. It was a stark but soft photograph of a women, obviously posed for the camera. The colors, deep reds and green contrasted by the paleness of her skin and the filmy whiteness of her top, created a shockingly beautiful image. I wish I could have captured a photo to pass on but unfortunately cameras were absolutely forbidden and security was extremely present.

We spent a few moments gazing at her beauty and then headed back out into the elements where the heavens proceeded to dump buckets of water on us.

Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes - Check!

A Day in the Life

Today, we finished up our last class without issue. We handed in our final assignment and got a chance to look at 2 graded assignments we did in the past. I got a 97 and a 95. Not bad. We can go back tomorrow for our final grade and a certificate of completion.

On the way home, Abby and I ran across an interesting sight that I wanted to pass on to you all. A nice gentleman, of approximately 50 years, with a serious comb over was strolling through the subway. He had on faded, dirty, stained, dark blue Adidas running pants with the white stripes down the leg (not 100% sure they were brand name because I didn't actually see a logo but you get the picture) and an off-white work shirt (like a plaid button-up farmer's shirt but without the plaid) that was equally stained and rolled up to the elbows. The front was unbuttoned half way, exposing some sort of t-shirt underneath (at least it wasn't chest hair...you might laugh, but we see that here ALL the time!). Navy blue too, I think. But the funny part, was that he was wearing a brown leather belt around the top of his pants. It was a kind of fancy belt too, with some designs or embroidery on the sides and a shiny buckle. No belt loops, nothing else leather on his body. A very nice fashion statement. I wanted to take a picture to pass on to you, but Abby wouldn't let me. That happens a lot. I want to take pictures of EVERYTHING and Ab thinks it is inappropriate. She might be right...

On the other hand I just watched her down a large glass of Malbec (a very nice Malbec too, I might add) in one gulp. My glass is nearly full.

Then again, she was kind of a hero in class today. Some big scary dragon fly who appeared to be hurt in some way because of its crazed, erratic flying, flew into the classroom and dive bombed both Abby and our classmate, Wendy. I started to get a little nervous (I might have jumped a little bit, don't tell anyone) but Abby just got up, gently captured the creature by cupping it in her hands, walked over to the window and tossed it out. Not too shabby, huh? That's my girl!

Dragonfly (English to Spanish translations):
1. libe-lula
2. caballito del diablo (little horse of the devil)

All Good Things Must End.

Tomorrow is our final Spanish class. 40 hours of Spanish with one nut-ball teacher and one legit one, plus homework and studying and trying to listen in on every conversation we come across (that kind of thing can get awkward). Do we know Spanish, you might ask? Well...no. But we are getting better. Tonight, for my final assignment (and what I think is a take home test because we actually get a grade in this class) I wrote a page about my "Rutina Dairia" (my daily routine) using reflexive verbs & appropriate reflexive pronouns (myself, yourself, herself etc). Plus, of course, everything else we have learned up until this point (present tense, infinitive verbs, pronouns, conjunctions etc). It was kind of a nightmare, but it also felt good to finish it up. I think most of it is right...but who knows? Abby is my proof-reader (and I am hers, ha), and although she has a pretty good grasp on it all, we cant really guarantee that nailed all the irregular verbs and didn't miss a reflexive pronoun opportunity.

Either way, we are considering taking 2 weeks of the Spanish II level, so that we still have some time to relax and explore, and are not taking classes up until the day we head back to Estados Unidos. However, we would both like to spend as much time studying as possible. We shall see.

AND, I have a special little treat for you all. I usually dont put pics in the blog, but this one is a must. In the name of blogging, I asked our crazy teacher if we could get an end-of-year photo with her and naturally, she was all about it. Unfortunately, Ab and I both looked a little scary in the shot (keep in mind the heat and humidity and the fact that most of our things are in storage 10K miles away) so i cut us out, and you cant see the 2 best features of Silvia, our profesora (her chipped, blood-red, polished toes hanging off the front of her cork & bejeweled platform sandals and her extremely ill-fitting bra that has caused her to have a terrible hunchback - dont even get me started on this one!) but here goes anyways.

Enjoy!

New Pix.

New pix added today of the amazing Perito Moreno glacier and our time in El calafate.

Its Time to Listen.

I think its important for all Americans to watch both the State of the Union and the Q&A President Obama did with some the House Republicans this week. With all the criticisms this country can come up with about Obama and his presidency so far, we must take the time to hear him out and listen to the facts. Of course it wouldn't be politics if the facts weren't a little skewed in some places (it is inevitable) but some of the facts are just that. Facts.

And as Obama so rightly says in both the State of the Union and the Q&A, its time for the perpetual campaigning to end. Its time for the politicians of our country to stop using their energy to slander the other side and start investing their energy into doing their job and getting things done. Of course we wont all agree, but didn't we elect these men and women to work together on our behalf?

Watch the speech and Q&A here:

State of the Union
Question & Answer Session with House Republicans

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An Intrusion.

Tonight we did dinner and drinks with two Swiss ladies we met whilst traveling. They are just finishing up a 4 month trip around Argentina and Chile. We had apps and Malbec at our place and then went out to a veggie spot in town. After dinner, they decided that they wanted to see what a traditional Argentine milonga (tango dance) was like, so we decided to go to Ville Malcolm, a super popular spot where they were guaranteed to see a high level of dance.

We walked a few blocks to a better spot to grab a cab, and as we passed a group of men sitting on stoops and sorting through trash on the street, they cat called us and one of them reached out and grabbed my ass and flicked up my skirt (I had leggings underneith but was not pleased at the extremely unwelcome and unacceptable intrusion). Naturally, I turned around and faced him, incredulous. But not knowing the language, all I could do was flip him off.

Please, tell me...what would make a man EVER think he has the right to touch me, or disrespect me like that on the street? In the L Word, Jenny (who is the most annoying and dramatic character on the show) makes one very good point (in her annoying and disturbingly dramatic way). She says that there probably isn't one woman who has not been imposed or intruded upon by a man. Hopefully the intrusion was relatively innocent, like the experience I had tonight, but we all know that isn't always the case. Think about it ladies, how many times have you been intruded upon? Is there one of us out there who can say we have never been objectified or exploited?

It makes me sad that equality is still so far from reality. If society cant even respect women, how can we ever hope that the GLBT community will get the respect and equal rights they deserve? Or hope that racial discrimination will one day end? Tonight, even tho I had a couple good dances at Villa Malcolm, I go to bed disheartened, and once again disappointed by the human race.

A couple more noteworthy items.

It is so hot here that the cold water from the tap runs hot. Even after 20+ minutes of washing sushi rice, the coolest I got was warm (not ideal for washing rice, I know). I think the pipes might need better insulation.

Oh, and on that same note, we completely lost water on Tuesday night for at least an hour (we noticed it when we got home from class, so it might have been much longer). We texted out landlord and he said "we hope it will come back soon." Luckily for all of us, it did.

A couple things worth mentioning:

Today Abby and I walked over 30 blocks in the scorching heat of the city to avoid the subwa­y at peak hour. The reason for this, is that at peak hours the commuters, and everyone else who decides it makes sense to ride the train at this time (wi­th all their children, of course), completely disregard any sort of capacity limitations in regards to the subway cars. Not only is it common to be elbowed or blatantly shoved as you enter or exit the car, but once the car can not fit one more person, you will find yourself intimately pressed extremely against those around you. As the tr­ain goes around corn­ers, those caught in the area around the door where there is no railings or bars to hold onto, will just lean or fall onto those around them, causing something like a human ping-pong game times 100 (sans fun). On top of this, the sweltering heat of the city causes much perspiration on the foreheads and bodies of the commuters and it is impossible to avoid contact. Therefore, a subte ride during peak hours not only guarantees smooshed toes and a few bruises, but the inevitable smear of sweat on any inch of skin you dare to leave bare.

The day before yesterday we accidentally misjudged time and found ourselves on the subte 20 minutes later than we usually are when we leave our Spanish class. The first part of our commute (D Linea) was extremely tight, but because there are no large corners on the route, we exited the train relatively unscathed. However, on two occasions during that 3 stop ride, fellow passengers were struck by the closing car doors. You see, there is no sensor on the subte doors here. If you're in their path as they close, they will close on you. And they close hard!

The walk from the D Linea to the C Linea was very congested, but this is normal. There is a bottleneck at one of the passages that causes a backup. However, once we made our way to the C Linea platform we could tell we would be in for a tight ride. Two backpackers (the woman had on the largest backpacking backpack I have ever seen...it was astounding!) and their 3 children stood nearby, along with an unusually large number of unattended screaming children. As the car pulled in, 2 young boys, pushed through the crowd to get on, hooting and hollering at the tops of their lungs. Not a good sign (parents no where to be found). The shoves we received as we entered the car was much worse than usual, causing us to all but fall on those in front of us.

As we settled into our 1 in. by 1 in. spots, we surveyed our surroundings. Immediately, I was all too aware of the tall woman who was standing next to me, as her sweaty armpit seemed to fall right on my shoulder. I tried to get away, but was literally pinned against “it.” Resigned, I moved on. On the other side was 3 giggling women, surrounded by what must have been 10-15 dirty, fussing children. We clutched our purses to our chests even tighter. Sadly, the subte is a haven for pickpockets and some of the city's worst thieves are the children.

As the train pulled away, we lurched into each other and as we came upon the first corner, I gave Ab a smile and just went with it. There is nothing else you can do. Ping! Pong! Sqoosh! And as usual, the people sitting, scared to wait until the train stops to get up, pushed their way through the mess, causing more mayhem and commotion in an already hysterical scene, as they fall into those already standing. I found myself deeper into sweaty-girls nasty pit. Yum.

When we finally reached Independencia, our stop, we mooshed and pushed our way out of the car, took stock, confirmed we still had all 10 toes and headed out into the sunshine. We vowed that we would do everything possible to avoid another subte ride at this hour.

* * *

Also worth mentioning is that we bought a blender to make smoothies. Not a big fancy blender, because we cant spend that kind of money, but a wimpy little hand held stand up blender that does just fine whipping up some frozen veggies if you mix it with enough juice. Aside from a couple special smoothie spots, all you can get here is what they call “liquados.” In other words, it is one type of fruit blended with water and ice. As you probably can guess, within 2 minutes the fruit (which wasn't frozen to begin with, so it really isn't cold) has separated from the water and is floating idly at the top of your glass. So, needless to say, we have been dying to buy up some of the yummy cheap fruit here for homemade smoothies done right!

The other night we got our hands on some really fantastic strawberries (frutilla), but since then, there has been a frutilla drought in town. We checked all the local spots in vain and have been rationing our measly supply of strawberries. We finished the last of them this morning. So on our 30+ block walk today we kept our eye out for frutilla. Isn't it funny how the things you don't need are everywhere until you actually need them?! By the time we hit our block, we were feeling really defeated, but still holding onto hope that our local fruit & veggie spot would be “holding” and sure enough, they had a big basket of pretty decent frutilla! We bought a whole kilo for $10 Ar pesos (approx. $2.50 US). We are psyched for our breakfast smoothie tomorrow.

* * *

What else? Oh! We went to Chinatown last weekend. Oh yes, it was 2 itsy-bitsy-teeny-weenie blocks of heaven! Every single thing you might want, including all the spices and flavors that Argentinians never use. You could literally buy a 6 liter jug of soy sauce! Finally, we bought homemade soy milk (we have SCOURED this city for 2 months for this!), tofu in all shapes and sizes, and all the fixings for some home made vegetarian sushi rolls. It was amazing!

* * *

Sadly, it is almost 4:00 AM and I must sleep. Over and out.

Meg, this toast goes out to you!

This champagne toast-filled photo shoot goes out to my girl Meg! To an eternity of matrimonial happiness! XOXO

The Dirty Dozen: Is it worth it to buy organic?

Everyone knows that buying organic food is better for you, but also that it is hard on the bank account. Abby found a fantastic article that breaks down what is important to buy organic and what isn't. This way you can put your hard earned $$ where it needs to be, and still focus on maximizing your health without compromising your finances.

Check it out: The Dirty Dozen

It's Meg's Big Day - 10,000 Miles Away

Today is both a really sad and really happy day for me. Being in Argentina is wonderful and I am so grateful for this opportunity, but today I feel really far away. You see, Meg, my college roommate and dear friend, is getting married. She is one of the first of my close friends to get married and I can not be there, both to witness her happiness, and to offer my support. So I am sad because I can not be there, but I am also so happy for her.

I'm sad because I will not be able to see the bead-work on her dress, or the way she decided to do her hair. Pictures never capture the details well enough, and those are the things that really mean something. The private conversations or smiles shared between the newlyweds, if the father of the bride's hands shake when he hands her over at the alter, the way it feels to witness the ceremony. Will Cara finally cry from happiness? Will Katie nail her scripture reading? (Of course she will!) Who will get too drunk and fall over on the dance floor? What will Erin say in her speech? These are just some of the important details I will miss today.

And I'm so happy for Meg. Happy that she found love that has inspired her to invest her future in it. I've seen how the things that she pined for in her past relationships are the things she will always have in this one. I see how they compliment each other when they are together.

I really hope that today is what she has always dreamed of. I know her family and friends will do an amazing job making it beautiful and she will be surrounded by so many people that love her. And I hope she knows how I feel.

Tonight, Ab and I will have our own little BsAs toast: "To Meg and Chris, may your love, trust, friendship and happiness last until the end."

The Rules of Mate.

Mate is a tradition here. Almost everyone drinks it, all day. Even when it is 100 degrees outside, they drink it. They say it helps give them energy in the heat. Often, when you are traveling or in public places, you will see many people with thermoses of water. Basically mate is like tea, with a strong aroma (some say it smells terrible) and bitter taste. The herb is spooned into a special cup and water is poured over it. The herbs can be used for many mates by just adding more water. One drinks mate through a special straw that allows the liquid to be sucked up but does not allow the herbs through.

As mate is a cultural experience, and Argentines take their culture very seriously, there are naturally [unspoken] rules that come along with the mate tradition. Below are some of the rules we have learned along the way, but just like with culture in general, it takes a long time to fully understand.

Rules*:
The person making the mate, and their skill of pouring it, mixing it and placement of the straw, determines how good the mate will be (in addition to the quality of the herb and the temperature of the water).
The water used for mate should be at 75 degrees Celsius.
The person making the mate always drinks the first cup.
Never move the straw (only the preparer can move it).
You always have at least 2 mates (it is rude not to) - there is not a lot of liquid in the cup, so 2 mates is not actually that much.
Do not say "gracias" or thank you until you are done and ready to pass the cup.

Pronunciation: mah-tay

*This information was passed onto us by our bus driver in Puerto Madryn (Hugo). He claims he isn't the best mate preparer of all time, but that he ranks at about 9.95 out of 10.

A terrible feeling...

I can't shake this feeling of betrayal. Every time I think about it, I feel like I got stabbed in the back by my neighbor or cheated by a friend. It hurts. And the worst part is how big of a step back we took.

I'm so sick of the American public being paralyzed in fear. How easily can you be brainwashed into going against your very convictions?

Massachusetts is the state where you get to be yourself, where you are accepted for who you are. It is where progressive thinkers live and where equality is a real possibility. It is not a place where you have to fear for your right to love the person you love, or where your skin tone has to dictate your social potential. What happened to us? How can the whole world think we made a great choice with Obama and a terrible choice with Brown? Is the whole world wrong? Be real! Progressive countries like Holland, where equality and freedom are real, actually started to believe in us again. And now we have just shown ourselves as swayable in our convictions, regressive in our thinking, and unable to see advertising and media bullshit for what it really is! Look what happened last time we let this happen...George W. Bush took away our right to privacy (and we didn't even make a peep in protest).

Listen, I know change is scary! I know! But when a system is broken (like the US healthcare system) and so dysfunctional that it is bankrupting the people it is supposed to be helping (again, like our healthcare system), you have gotta take the plunge and make the change. Every great healthcare system in the world is socialized and universal. We can not even compete. So what are we holding onto? The right to pay $1000 a month for a healthcare plan that makes you fork over co-pays, doesn't cover emergency ambulance rides or medication that doesn't offer a generic option and either doubles in price or drops you completely the second you get sick? Or is it the system that costs so much that many low income families can not even dream of getting care? Wow, both of those options really sound like something worth fighting for! Really? I just don't understand it. In fact, its mind blowing, never mind embarrassing.

I'm scared for the fate of our country. If Massachusetts can fall this far off the wagon, I'm scared to see what the rest of the country is capable of. Please, please, please, give us our progressive state back (either that or I am moving to Canada)!

Congratulatory Speech:

Congratulations citizens of Massachusetts, you have trodden and trashed the founding values of our state. We have set back our nation, which is already sinking, at a time when we could have been the strength that allowed us to swim. We should all be ashamed of ourselves for allowing this to happen.

A Scary Day in MA.

Abby is in the corner, in her usual computer seat, glued to the screen. This election has us both freaked out. Is Massachusetts not one of the most liberal states in the country? Is it really possible for the state of Massachusetts to vote in a republican candidate, at such a crucial time?

Poor Ted Kennedy must be rolling over in his grave, from shame and embarrassment at what has happened to our beloved, progressive state. Our fellow MA citizens are ready to throw women's rights, equality, compassion and the fundamental rights our ancestors have fought for since the beginning, out the window in favor of gluttony, selfishness and guns! Weehoo! It makes me want to cry – or puke.

Did you know?
- That Scott Brown signed a bill stating that rape victims can be denied emergency contraceptives if it goes against the religious beliefs of the person on duty. (Honestly? Now religion dictates the emergency room?!)
- That Scott Brown co-sponsored (!!!) the “Women's Right to Know Act,” a bill that would force rape victims to view an ultrasound of the fetus, and wait 24 hours before they can receive an abortion. (Women's right to know? How insulting and presumptuous. Thank goodness this bill didn't pass – although they do have laws of this nature in other states.)
- That Scott Brown publicly stated that he did not think a lesbian couple should be able to adopt a child. His exact words: “That's just not normal.”

Is Massachusetts just anti-Obama right now? Is the healthcare bill the only thing that matters when there are so many other monumental issues at stake? So, why waste your vote on some anti-woman, anti-equality, pro-Wall Street gas-guzzling pick-up truck driver? If you want to be a Republican, please, move to New Hampshire.

#1 MOM

I have the best mom of all time.

She has been there for me through thick and thin, and has supported me when I couldn't even muster up the strength to back myself up. She has been my rock and my light during my darkest hour, and has given up so many luxuries for herself so that I could have more. She is incredibly compassionate and loyal, and is loved by so many people.

So today, I would like to take a moment to wish her a happy birthday. I can't be there to tell her in person, but I want her to know how amazing I think she is, and how thankful I am to have her as my mother, and my friend. If you see her today, please give her a big hug for me (and give my gram a big hug too, for having her!).

Mama-Pie, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, I love you!!

Shout out to my girl.

An all time favorite...

Getting a package in BA.

Before coming to BA, were read that the mail system here was a little screwy. We heard that it could take hours to pick up a package...well, the rumors are true.

We received a note in our landlord's mailbox 2 days before leaving for our trip south, stating that we received a package and that we could go claim it. Of course it was all in Spanish, so we were not really sure where we had to go, but in the past our landlord mentioned that we would have to go to Retiro to pick it up (apparently, all the mail in the city goes through there), and that we should book off about 3 hours to get it. So we headed down there to grab the package.

Upon arrival, we found out that to pick up the package, we had to go somewhere in San Telmo, near our house. We looked up the location and got back on the subte (subway) to find the Correo Office (post office) in San Telmo. Upon arrival to the Correo, I had to take a number from a machine (like we used to do at the deli in Stop & Shop) and take a seat. After about 40 minutes, my number was called and I went up to the window with my notification card and my passport. I had to fill out some paperwork, and after trying to communicate with the teller in vain (he spoke no English and my Spanish is terrible, as we know), he stamped my notification card, stuck a sticker to it, and sent me on my way, without the package!!

After scrutinizing the card with Abby, we determined that we now had to go to Retiro to actually claim the package. Since it was now late afternoon and the offices at Retiro close at 5 PM, and we still had to pack and prepare for our trip, we determined sadly that we could not get the package until we got back (the paperwork said that we had one month to pick it up). :(

This past Tuesday, now that we are back and managed to get up early enough, we headed out to Retiro to claim our package! Retiro is a pretty interesting place. It is a neighborhood of BsAs and a subway stop. The area has the bus station, a few train stations and the ferry station. There are open air markets, street vendors and a super high number of pick pockets. There is a park there but it is filthy and there is no question that it is at least 10 degrees hotter there than the rest of the city. All in all, it is not a pleasant place to be and we want to spend as little time there as possible! So, we hopped on the train to Retiro with our purses clutched to our chests like scared animals, and bee-lined it to the Correo Office, a large, ugly building across from the bus station. We elbowed our way through the milling crowd and grabbed our number from the machine (again, like S&S). C06. Interesting, because the number on the board (electronic, thank goodness!!) was 38...

We found a seat, ready for a long wait. Some of the time they just changed the number on the board, sometimes they called it out loud, but after a few minutes, we guessed that they were currently going through B01-B99, and that once those were exhausted, they would start over at C01. It was obvious that no one had any idea what was going on. From what we gathered, this was the international package pick up office, but things were only written in Spanish (yes, I know we are in Argentina, but sometimes it shocks me that they don't even try to assist foreigners). Some people were filling out their forms, others were leaving them blank and then getting yelled at that they weren't complete. I asked a few people, but no one really knew what to do. I filled mine out with what I thought it needed to say, and left it at that. Meanwhile, people were milling around anxiously, crowding in when they started calling out numbers. The tellers would call the number, wait less than one second and then call the next, so that you had to be right there to claim your spot or else they would pass right over you.

After a shockingly short 40 minute wait, they passed 99 and started at 01 again, thank goodness! I bolted form my chair to make sure they didn't pass me over. At the window, the teller spoke a tiny bit of English (just enough to point out what I forgot to fill out on the form). He scrutinized my form and my passport, he brought it to the computer (one in the back of the room for all 3 tellers) and scrutinized it some more and then stamped it and barked out “vente pesos.” I think I must have started at him in shock for 5 full seconds before regaining my composure. $20 pesos! For picking up my package that someone already paid to mail to me?! Um...ok.

Naturally this guy didn't accept the money, so I had to go to another window with my little form and wait while he finished up with another person, before I could pay my $20 pesos (still in shock). He then rips a small piece off the form and gives it to me, pointing to a 6 digit number in small print on the bottom, and sends me into another large waiting room. We sit, listening intently, because in this room, they read these 6 digit numbers off by microphone.

Listening with every ounce of our being, this is what we hear: doce-ocho-crackle crackle-crackle-che-ventidos-cuarenta y CCCCHHHHHHnta-seis-uno-cerro-cerro-CHHHHHHHHHH crackle-crackle-CHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...

I'm pretty good with 0-9, and I might even be able to pick up on some of the multiples of 10 if you speak slowly, but via this terrible microphone, and with some people reading 123456 like this: one, two, three, four, five, six and others reading like twelve, three, forty five, six...there is just no way! Impossible, even with both of us listening. After a while, we think we hear the number (secretly, we are both highly doubting this) so we go through the metal subway turnstile thingie, through one scary dirty door and then through another dirty scary door, until we get to a counter with piles of packages and about 5 workers in weird white lab coats just sitting around. Sometimes they grab a package and read off a number, and sometimes they just idly chat amongst themselves (about weekend plans I think).

After a minute or two, one of the lab coat men checked my card and determined that we had in fact, not heard our number and that we should wait. We took up camp in that room because we knew we would never get the package if we went back out to listen for the number again. About 10 minutes later, he found the package (a padded envelope) and handed it to me. We passed yet another line of people (cursed with larger packages), who heard their number, saw the lab coat guy and then had to wait again for a conveyor belt to bring their package to them, and booths that look like prison communication boxes (where I think they question people and tear up your package if its is suspicious) and then finally rounded the final bend where we signed a piece of paper saying we actually received our package, and headed back out into the sunshine!

So lets recap:
Get a notice in your mailbox that you received a package and can go get it.
Go to one office, wait for an hour, get a stamp.
Go to another office, pick a number, wait for an hour, get a stamp.
Wait in line to pay (seriously, to receive a package?)
Wait and listen to shitty microphone, in vain.
2 creepy doors
Scary lab coat guy.
Another line if large package and scary booths for interrogation and package searching.
Line for signature of receipt.

A couple important discussion points:
In a city of 13 million, all the mail comes through one post office!? Really?! Or is it just all international mail? Either way...
I had to pay $20 pesos to pick up a package that weighed less than a pound and had a declared value of $4 Euros? How much would it cost to receive a large package? Or do they determine the cost based on their mood?
In the US, if you're not home for some reason or don't have time and need something, you just buy it online and get it shipped to you. What does a mail system like this do to the online buying industry?
Where do people find the time?

...hmmmm.