tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34430680458289774092024-03-12T23:53:05.723-02:00Hop TopTales from South AmericaUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-11073232878300693062010-06-17T10:42:00.002-02:002010-06-17T10:45:30.129-02:00Follow Me Around<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3n80I3lxUgbM612yDMckvHTnssQcYBJiohyphenhyphenAmK7aBG-FtiX_iVQs8L_WbuhEA7of_vGSAyZQ7EfpEkx7AT6-sac-Ehjt47NWgjtYDBXRfIzYaGzXiCJktL5A5HHlfZ8NtfS2uy6Kwlc/s1600/tumblr_l3o27mg4H51qb08vxo1_500.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483722476938462018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3n80I3lxUgbM612yDMckvHTnssQcYBJiohyphenhyphenAmK7aBG-FtiX_iVQs8L_WbuhEA7of_vGSAyZQ7EfpEkx7AT6-sac-Ehjt47NWgjtYDBXRfIzYaGzXiCJktL5A5HHlfZ8NtfS2uy6Kwlc/s400/tumblr_l3o27mg4H51qb08vxo1_500.jpg" border="0" /></a> Thanks for coming by my website - if you liked it please click on the link above to see my latest project- the tube riders. I don't know if it's technically legal to be taking photos of people and publishing them without their consent but let me know what you think if you like it.<br /><br />Cheers,<br /><br />AlexUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-34865866008586887772009-10-09T18:54:00.008-02:002009-10-10T18:01:55.824-02:00I'm Not Dead!To everyone who has been reading this blog in my absence I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate it. I just so happened to reopen my blog out of curiosity today and was astonished to see that almost 20 people a day from Argentina and around the world have been checking in and reading my stories- clearly not an astronomical number but I was expecting something closer to 0 and definitely no Argentine readers!<div>It means so much to me that people in Argentina would read my blog and I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading what you're country looks like from an outsider's perspective. Even though at times I found it difficult and emotionally distressing (teaching English to a bunch of unappreciative grammar fiends for instance) I truly loved my time in your country and I grew so much from it. Additionally, I only wrote from my own experiences, and I'm the type of person who is attracted to oddities and eccentricity, so if I have offended any Argentines in my retelling of anecdotes or my personal opinions on cultural and political topics (such as the BuenosAireselections that took place last winter) I meant no disrespect. Everything I've ever said aboutBuenos Aires and Argentina has been from a good place and hopefully with a sense of humour.</div><div>So, before I bid adieu I have to let you all know what happened after we got off the bus inBariloche:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. After getting through all the hassle of renting the clothes, the gear, the equipment and buying the passes we finally got to the top of the mountain only to discover that one of us (hint: not me) wasn't so comfortable on a pair of skis. So we edged our way back down, and set out about finding different ways to amuse ourselves.</div><div>We went to some neolithic caves (which were honestly awesome), ate lots and lots of chocolate, took a gondola ride up Cerro Otto, dined at a great vegetarian restaurant and in the end hopped a 23 hour bus to Santiago, Chile.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Santiago was awesome, and surprisingly hilly. Actually, much of this trip was marred by very steep hills when I think about it. The Andes seemed to be screaming their prominence at us every where we went, they were completely inescapable!</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>-Interesting side note: as we were passing through the Andes from Mendoza to Santiago I<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>was completely captivated by the ruins of the old rail system. It was like driving through<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>an old Wild West movie set, the way the rails were partially covered with corrugated iron<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>tunnels and the switch lights hung and swung in the wind, surrounded by complete<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>desolation. It made me deeply wish that the rail was still in use because I'm a sucker for<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>that sort of romantic imagery- riding through snow covered mountains in a dark mahogany<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>dining cart is right up my alley. Two days after we left Santiago my mom informed me that<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>a family member was actually responsible for building most of the Chilean rail way system<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>(awesome!) but that he was largely despised by the locals for using slave labour and<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>eventually, his offspring were basically run out of the country (not awesome). Small world<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Valparaiso. Another town plagued by hills, but worth it for the views that they command. Additionally, I had one of my favourite meals at a restaurant called La Concepcion- starting with ostrich carpaccio, a lamb chop main with a risotto side and something yummy for dessert that I can't remember anymore but I remember that I loved it.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. La Serena- not fun. If anyone ever suggests a quick pit-stop in La Serena tell them to get bent. There's a funny looking lighthouse, about a mile and a half outside of town and that's it. Honestly, that's it.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. San Pedro de Atacama. Amazing! Yet again, we were plagued by hills, even in the desert. We rented some bikes and dune boards and using the map that the rental lady drew for us we proceeded to get horribly lost. We spent an hour biking up and down an amazingly precipitous mini-mountain on a wild goose chase looking for dunes that never appeared. However, common sense eventually prevailed and we found a very clear sign that we could've spotted from the beginning. The dune boarding was hard, but we got some great photos that made us look really cool and bad-ass, so obviously it was all worth it.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. Arica. Sort of a let down. We were thinking it would be a town full of amazing world renowned architecture but it was really only the two buildings that we read about, the Customs House and the Church, both made by Gustav Eiffel of the Eiffel Tower fame. We did get sucked into a tour around the Customs House though, which was a little comical. The guide just seemed so sincere and eager to deliver his spiel about the history of the place, and after having seen him turned down by two other couples, I was happy to pretend I understood him. And that made him happy, so that was my good deed of the week.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Lima. CHIFA! I'm a big fan of the Chifa movement, mainly because I like the way it sounds, but who can say no to mounds of good, cheap Chinese food? Although I would suggest sprucing up on your Chifa lingo because out of ignorance I ended up ordering three different types of thick rice soup- all of which were probably the least tasty things off the menu, and which I found personally distasteful.</div><div><br /></div><div>From Lima I flew back to London via Mexico City, New York City and Dublin- a thirty hour trip. I had a plan to sneak onto first class on the last major leg of my journey but I got violently ill instead and the best I could manage was to throw up in the first class bathroom before the plane took off. An unfortunate low point during my travels but memorable nonetheless.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm now starting a new blog about living in England and studying in London, so if you're interested you can see it here are www.hoptopvol2.com or www.hoptopvol2.blogspot.com</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy travels to all of you and tons of love!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>-Alexandra Henson</div><div>ashenson86@gmail.com</div><div><br /></div><div>p.s. here are a few pics from my whirlwind tour of lower South America, enjoy!</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxIPujyI7Q4N8sWEU2AA3W9bl81AyJXrEcXg8PJkYdI_1zyj-N5m1PkuSIQ_xe5W6jvC5sJBJsjljnoFoBLWELB_svXtj2YhukYHyVIJSRee0hAZZMGMlGWypsbvGq85MbGdlFguMVsTU/s1600-h/la+policia+lima.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxIPujyI7Q4N8sWEU2AA3W9bl81AyJXrEcXg8PJkYdI_1zyj-N5m1PkuSIQ_xe5W6jvC5sJBJsjljnoFoBLWELB_svXtj2YhukYHyVIJSRee0hAZZMGMlGWypsbvGq85MbGdlFguMVsTU/s400/la+policia+lima.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391063123521920738" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHzfnOxUTQ1fi2ePJeWM3qX49KbNNYUgzO5x-q4qgpAO-TQ9N2JvH4fPvmWA2SMoWDJZuwSfrfBOQiNW7ld0XJNHRyzOS2GlS3t9NGztdS_Cg8c5vyxbtn410DBfS6Hd7qthWwRSn5b0/s1600-h/happy+dancing+man+lima.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHzfnOxUTQ1fi2ePJeWM3qX49KbNNYUgzO5x-q4qgpAO-TQ9N2JvH4fPvmWA2SMoWDJZuwSfrfBOQiNW7ld0XJNHRyzOS2GlS3t9NGztdS_Cg8c5vyxbtn410DBfS6Hd7qthWwRSn5b0/s400/happy+dancing+man+lima.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391063120077918290" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSK9ohBecXM2mkP4eF0jgL3IcejwoKFUQYakANvde32YC3v91H0rvFbElyYs_JiNKHpQxgUymuU9IfvhKv21MZ_oucKvZ3KauT-rBrzPEK8WA3yBtOapNajspDc7p0M2TWNYc62B988J4/s1600-h/me+sandboarding.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSK9ohBecXM2mkP4eF0jgL3IcejwoKFUQYakANvde32YC3v91H0rvFbElyYs_JiNKHpQxgUymuU9IfvhKv21MZ_oucKvZ3KauT-rBrzPEK8WA3yBtOapNajspDc7p0M2TWNYc62B988J4/s400/me+sandboarding.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391063110942769858" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNP1aX3UtfXmBuXlRI5vDjaW8lM3mJuSTBnpNI-1jpjFYBvacI2-G7_lOp4N6xaxqHDrudkjnA6pY6hptAxhywPHgaOVo1rqWGRqcegrwfMimVLibREAPgqqGm-3ang4dkx2v4_7bKTpw/s1600-h/madonna,+bariloche.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNP1aX3UtfXmBuXlRI5vDjaW8lM3mJuSTBnpNI-1jpjFYBvacI2-G7_lOp4N6xaxqHDrudkjnA6pY6hptAxhywPHgaOVo1rqWGRqcegrwfMimVLibREAPgqqGm-3ang4dkx2v4_7bKTpw/s400/madonna,+bariloche.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391063106684805442" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjso5pfNgX-vx7ez8UR3QmUnm2y5Y0NVz5Xr8senSJFvBbscH-M9XnzNDUtZl5wSXljwsa3VO08n_bfkTJbNukyDxbSqz6IlYlTUaGVbwA6hsfCGQBa_Z2qZy9MW9c8v1seuaiICslbiLk/s1600-h/lighthouse+la+serena.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjso5pfNgX-vx7ez8UR3QmUnm2y5Y0NVz5Xr8senSJFvBbscH-M9XnzNDUtZl5wSXljwsa3VO08n_bfkTJbNukyDxbSqz6IlYlTUaGVbwA6hsfCGQBa_Z2qZy9MW9c8v1seuaiICslbiLk/s400/lighthouse+la+serena.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391062468739126290" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RDA2BpAmUOBaBkuQ32IqBatj6Wz3i37uPzc8iGQHpkoe1A7pv3Z_eWlncI2m6BYl8KRHWdpj7PkwsjYbzXsnu-IfYwTRVm6b47YLSiwPRYXYukl7sDP-dVtTEgeHFbgQXLrgIex3Uss/s1600-h/arica+lourdes.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RDA2BpAmUOBaBkuQ32IqBatj6Wz3i37uPzc8iGQHpkoe1A7pv3Z_eWlncI2m6BYl8KRHWdpj7PkwsjYbzXsnu-IfYwTRVm6b47YLSiwPRYXYukl7sDP-dVtTEgeHFbgQXLrgIex3Uss/s400/arica+lourdes.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391062461910650274" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLAFzGQ9KDjwgTpNtbGSiWAv9iuJfV3Y4P2PU3K8f4z9yw5o3TJJs3eySjWpVCcFX2JPH-DSldF-dM6IL2R-6cMcSXzLZq01AK1Bu9cHUx_A1-ENya9zZ7gR281d_dbNs-xyT2cFunsg/s1600-h/boli+women,+lima.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 328px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLAFzGQ9KDjwgTpNtbGSiWAv9iuJfV3Y4P2PU3K8f4z9yw5o3TJJs3eySjWpVCcFX2JPH-DSldF-dM6IL2R-6cMcSXzLZq01AK1Bu9cHUx_A1-ENya9zZ7gR281d_dbNs-xyT2cFunsg/s400/boli+women,+lima.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391062455554181042" /></a><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuC_GuXl4NtDmv1flYJUNi9U_CZnCg5uxKEjTlOpalE_78LSBC7AZXP427LQ_s0AnypuB9er5TaSCXnfjUKoY2vYu1-ZVndDV0nhdq3yBU0NCCXYLXS2u7BgZOlzXamLV0a2z7YXvs7Hg/s400/Me+in+La+Serena.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391062138981206642" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeCH_Y_dNjvMHWiNKRuVC9ouPL9GVGgb6_N3mOB8hn3IQHRS2jGWqSsVS24lPriMzgZAaTDUVB4h1dowUUKitfTgDBOypXRVdjYsLDSxV2gx5t8m_Ox-v2P1Zql88mkAILE5-uTPSxnKw/s1600-h/bariloche.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeCH_Y_dNjvMHWiNKRuVC9ouPL9GVGgb6_N3mOB8hn3IQHRS2jGWqSsVS24lPriMzgZAaTDUVB4h1dowUUKitfTgDBOypXRVdjYsLDSxV2gx5t8m_Ox-v2P1Zql88mkAILE5-uTPSxnKw/s400/bariloche.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391062447653954498" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-10142354104670675652009-08-02T16:49:00.004-02:002009-08-02T17:40:38.973-02:00Bus to BarilocheAir travel within Argentina and the rest of South America is prohibitively expensive, it's absolute lunacy that a 2 hour plane ride can cost $500 or more. For this reason a lot of people travel by bus which is infinitely less expensive, and since most bus companies have fleets of new luxury buses, it is in most cases a more comfortable form of travel. The one draw back is that it is illegal and dangerous for these double decker buses to travel faster than 90 kilometers an hour; thus, a long distance trip can take a seriously long time. I just took a bus from Buenos Aires to Bariloche, a distance of 1,571 kilometers, and it took a little under 20 hours to complete the journey. Here's a break down of how I handled it.<div><br /></div><div><b>Hour 1</b>: Just got going- the novelty of staring out the window hasn't worn off yet. So far so good. Graham is feeling a little hungover so he ate a bag of chips and shut his eyes for a nap. I want to listen to my iPod but I've got to conserve the battery, I wonder how long I can hold out for?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Hour 2</b>: My butt is getting numb. There's a movie on right now that I've been wanting to see but it's dubbed in Castellano and subtitled in Spanish! What's the point of that? I took my iPod out to play Scrabble with Graham because the scenery got old quite quickly. The pampas are completely flat, sparsely populated and kind of uninteresting to look at for any length of time. But, if the scenery changes before nightfall I will gladly return to it.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Hour 4:</b> Only 16 left! They've finally put on a movie that isn't dubbed but I've already seen it, typical.</div><div>Graham scolded me for talking to the bus attendant in English, however, I only asked for coffee or tea, which isn't that difficult to figure out considering the Spanish is cafe o te. He's clearly a bit dense and I'm not to blame.</div><div>*I wonder if bus attendants ever dream of becoming flight attendants?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Hour 7</b>: Just finished with dinner- even on long bus journeys Argentines insist on eating late, now there's a line for the bathroom. I'm hoping to get another little bottle of wine to help me go to sleep but I'm not sure if they've got a one/customer policy going on here. I'll bribe that dense bus attendant if I have to, I need something to put me to bed so I can escape this misery- the dubbed version of Australia just came on and the only thing more annoying than Nicole Kidman's voice is her voice dubbed in Spanish.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Hour 13</b>: Graham just woke me up because that's what he does when he can't sleep. He sees me sleeping peacefully and somehow it gets into his head that if he wakes me up he'll be able to go to sleep, as if sleep is a physical thing that he has to steal from me so he can get some. It's so hot in here, my arm is right next to the radiator and it's en fuego, and my mouth is dry, I'm so thirsty. I hate Graham for waking me up. I'll smother him later for this.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Hour 19</b>: After a fitful night of sleep, being jolted awake by the swaying and stopping of the bus and bad dreams I actually feel quite well rested. We're pretty far south now and the sun is only just rising right now. We're definitely in Patagonia as we've reached some mountains and we're driving through a string of lakes. It's really beautiful scenery now, a pleasure to stare at, and it's somewhat ghostly. We must be at a high altitude because every now and then a wisp of cloud flies by my window. The fog is heavy in some places but it only sits on the water, you can see it so clearly defined that it looks like a glob of white, impenetrable, fluffy cotton, plopped down by some unseen hand. </div><div>And Graham doesn't remember ever waking me up, how nice.</div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't bother to write down what I did at Hour 20 because it was more of the same, but my legs weren't as stiff as I thought they'd be and six hours later I'm still feeling good. But sleeping in a bed tonight will definitely be very nice.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-42348215369655864942009-07-30T21:26:00.007-02:002009-07-31T01:04:52.260-02:00MATILDA'S<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzL7BoTAdRai_9uUhbdhTxkV1xxeOgcwRk4mC1FJY9Vb4InfkYGlXJsTTXVMtpyZQ1gUetw6Q_zBTXxEJZB7eGFdTKVQ9MuYZ3-onY7arNXc0hpelZiaoArQrHLfExb9sl4utYIQIYGk/s400/DSC00740.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364402594380599922" />It's hard to find a really good cafe latte in this city. Even though the ingredients are the same, the cafe con leche just doesn't hold up in comparison. In fact, cafe lattes aren't the only things I've been craving; bagels and bagel sandwiches, salad wraps, carrot cake, cup cakes and muligatawny soup have all been the objects of my desires at one point or another over the past six months. Never in my wildest cravings did I ever imagine I'd find a place that has it all, but I did and my only regret is not having found it sooner.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>Matilda's is a tiny cafe, about the size of a walk-in closet that always seems to be full of people. The seating is limited to a banquette and a couple of stools but that doesn't dissuade people from standing around and soaking up the atmosphere. It's hard to put a finger on Matilda's style, the walls are papered in red, white and blue florals and stripes that give the impression of 4th of July Americana, but the presence of muligitawny soup... its got to be English.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>The proprietors set out a new batch of cup cakes, cookies, muffins and cakes every day, as well as make fresh sandwiches, wraps and soups to order. Their coffee is divine and anyone feeling a little homesick, whether home is America or England, would feel well satisfied after a visit to Matilda's.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOkhPwmbjpLYukTF5YZUOcSjE4xHs6v0ny5qLsj2L0bC2XUd4-Xz7SPx2rPCcovrfjix2BoskszcA37D-OPANeljRvNPe5eEZFryKhaX3TsF2Asm4TIfC3-c6L7MFhXVQhA6b2qeBsRUg/s1600-h/DSC00734.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOkhPwmbjpLYukTF5YZUOcSjE4xHs6v0ny5qLsj2L0bC2XUd4-Xz7SPx2rPCcovrfjix2BoskszcA37D-OPANeljRvNPe5eEZFryKhaX3TsF2Asm4TIfC3-c6L7MFhXVQhA6b2qeBsRUg/s400/DSC00734.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364454643359359458" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbb48NILlqjtp_HfqCwajw9S4vHHAnkoRXMe6jPvhbRn4A1kw-ffwFUvRmGZfh8sztOSvSsuuwA9yH-3EvIUySd8yl-5YbBKIRGJuuJEOIZF5LHMJhusMsFdxCB3y1jcMkV5td9o-WDE/s1600-h/DSC00736.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbb48NILlqjtp_HfqCwajw9S4vHHAnkoRXMe6jPvhbRn4A1kw-ffwFUvRmGZfh8sztOSvSsuuwA9yH-3EvIUySd8yl-5YbBKIRGJuuJEOIZF5LHMJhusMsFdxCB3y1jcMkV5td9o-WDE/s400/DSC00736.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364453944608753170" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><div><br /></div><div>Matilda's</div><div>Chile 673</div><div>San Telmo, Buenos Aires</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-9969447430311471272009-07-26T10:53:00.007-02:002009-07-26T21:47:41.098-02:00San Telmo<div>A few pics from around the neighborhood.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHE4QV-2uhu6aREgxtqKQsVIpAYyD9FPij1AbDWV05CTTDl9BC9XW2Ev7-cccMPjOmKqM4GA-WlDFxnnOZB2laLvPJU08F0pQfAdYf-T9JRLlBbqBd2pAriBbr5VqQpeKD0aeyqV6GYos/s1600-h/DSC00561.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHE4QV-2uhu6aREgxtqKQsVIpAYyD9FPij1AbDWV05CTTDl9BC9XW2Ev7-cccMPjOmKqM4GA-WlDFxnnOZB2laLvPJU08F0pQfAdYf-T9JRLlBbqBd2pAriBbr5VqQpeKD0aeyqV6GYos/s400/DSC00561.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362919422273673378" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdGhdWxVmSqUm5vw-yEuq-MZ-yF3yJqLHyn3cja54A_QR7ZMHLuqPNYHEq1AasX6cGpPG6lrverinZ5pilqKGlmdxYOKrKVCEtJZrhk0ECs-SS0q0hjUqiczf14PIdMEgMmAWmLuhMro/s1600-h/AA023A.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdGhdWxVmSqUm5vw-yEuq-MZ-yF3yJqLHyn3cja54A_QR7ZMHLuqPNYHEq1AasX6cGpPG6lrverinZ5pilqKGlmdxYOKrKVCEtJZrhk0ECs-SS0q0hjUqiczf14PIdMEgMmAWmLuhMro/s400/AA023A.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362919411990602818" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYWtUEm6SpA-wK-db4_gR7q2W0KVRLwp7nobPw3hDFI7pCgKyY8qgc3_NdCY5UpwBq8OhLZNADbA0CtxhkOkKIBJjH-OJvGOqypn7r7T1aK6Z73eMHsneyUTkIY2IOKLyEV54BmqYlM8/s1600-h/DSC00607.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYWtUEm6SpA-wK-db4_gR7q2W0KVRLwp7nobPw3hDFI7pCgKyY8qgc3_NdCY5UpwBq8OhLZNADbA0CtxhkOkKIBJjH-OJvGOqypn7r7T1aK6Z73eMHsneyUTkIY2IOKLyEV54BmqYlM8/s400/DSC00607.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362917768185838466" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitmAKV6_Ewkt-BQSq-MCH1VKyUGA-hH09DXhjItQGTHa_HHQ8Xq95A3sgn6RPBNLvTrMsxcOtyXvN1Feg2fkfAvhtU7XH9216yf2ef6PIlWcI1TAYfbDPRQ5ZsvlTcBRC3wxg3wBxjQkk/s1600-h/DSC00708.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitmAKV6_Ewkt-BQSq-MCH1VKyUGA-hH09DXhjItQGTHa_HHQ8Xq95A3sgn6RPBNLvTrMsxcOtyXvN1Feg2fkfAvhtU7XH9216yf2ef6PIlWcI1TAYfbDPRQ5ZsvlTcBRC3wxg3wBxjQkk/s400/DSC00708.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362917762038012626" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimGJhRO3nPmKL5BCMJMoFrWa8K-sef7GuJGmE8yW8c8OWl7FY66U7GoZ7wLfGmFBaCyr_B4StKg0WbLV1EcQTU4S7FQT8AtA-Iul7lG7ZKM-97mPWX_3kIyHaE4jVypM7VNP08bM11ZwM/s1600-h/DSC00639.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimGJhRO3nPmKL5BCMJMoFrWa8K-sef7GuJGmE8yW8c8OWl7FY66U7GoZ7wLfGmFBaCyr_B4StKg0WbLV1EcQTU4S7FQT8AtA-Iul7lG7ZKM-97mPWX_3kIyHaE4jVypM7VNP08bM11ZwM/s400/DSC00639.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362915968230963330" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFmXEfP-hDy0mRSCZoGvpXLSX143rg8pBvvRPPBMkiTwuZiCEgp3ZY6dR4M_B6GZqBCB8b8fuSrMvm-wm_ZuVFHo6ZezCESuRTLKh0Nm8XK3jo7zZj2267IhOt0jORKitTF7aOllJrIY/s1600-h/DSC00688.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFmXEfP-hDy0mRSCZoGvpXLSX143rg8pBvvRPPBMkiTwuZiCEgp3ZY6dR4M_B6GZqBCB8b8fuSrMvm-wm_ZuVFHo6ZezCESuRTLKh0Nm8XK3jo7zZj2267IhOt0jORKitTF7aOllJrIY/s400/DSC00688.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362915962206908098" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mIhiwaRIPVgF4XtgJDNH_XHbjrXc3SI9uVDTLx6km9qRdfVSrTybNlmdRHeHkKN35cFml-t9k8r6oRTtXK5N_BF3N-VCY0gC-ywLF0YlxCTSVxoQ4RTmk8R5icOv-NNvMiGfDx-T9x8/s1600-h/DSC00642.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mIhiwaRIPVgF4XtgJDNH_XHbjrXc3SI9uVDTLx6km9qRdfVSrTybNlmdRHeHkKN35cFml-t9k8r6oRTtXK5N_BF3N-VCY0gC-ywLF0YlxCTSVxoQ4RTmk8R5icOv-NNvMiGfDx-T9x8/s400/DSC00642.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362759909884883810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZNqBE4-tLV4zMYEvCOpen-IvnIS2kn1eFZ4T4sKNp64iAKKeH0P2xNhCKBlwfnN7f_WpgaEOx-nNbxGFHh3qaPie8XeP5cC3c1qOwEBSXQA8eunw3yIbbKrP8e5Oq-j7ruHjldmjPvg/s1600-h/DSC00709.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZNqBE4-tLV4zMYEvCOpen-IvnIS2kn1eFZ4T4sKNp64iAKKeH0P2xNhCKBlwfnN7f_WpgaEOx-nNbxGFHh3qaPie8XeP5cC3c1qOwEBSXQA8eunw3yIbbKrP8e5Oq-j7ruHjldmjPvg/s400/DSC00709.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362759194288054658" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrE_8YOVBZ6FgLVt5UWBNM2zDpwerAszRvqX9FAvsmpPbnTaVdTE7ntHdYxWCKVfOnNK3jV6gW6S80KtEQYc6fLAX7fdnFQN8JtTswGSOHOLEoJmz6bsKPZRBraFu7YT1xFLmM2tk2Z4/s1600-h/DSC00707.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrE_8YOVBZ6FgLVt5UWBNM2zDpwerAszRvqX9FAvsmpPbnTaVdTE7ntHdYxWCKVfOnNK3jV6gW6S80KtEQYc6fLAX7fdnFQN8JtTswGSOHOLEoJmz6bsKPZRBraFu7YT1xFLmM2tk2Z4/s400/DSC00707.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362752828806754642" /></a><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-31774378026340226232009-07-12T20:53:00.015-02:002009-07-19T20:23:00.792-02:00Virtual Walk-Through<div style="text-align: center;">We just moved into a great new apartment in San Telmo for our final weeks here in Argentina. A new area, a new attitude. Here's a walk-through:</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibyGLFC7QULkVe8lK7hL2595n_HvM-pRG1RiAhSu-4CxMZMbTkB_onkZ0G2v2x_q4ImWOprchuO2tiVazB4Z1czH7RTF4ooaZPnDFJ4FD76eMQjFZuvOmYjEFj6J5u4hD6AB7QOXaA5ko/s400/DSC00644.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360294840850248194" /><div style="text-align: center;">Through the front door into the inner atrium</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZAJ3Z7wcH-E3328NQszqNF33O-6taClrCTlP7ViABvg9QzUW2nWVmQ_HxxP8IYzUrHFye4PQqXs9Pw7VObRNH1FzJYigYOuoUJrvcBkAiuaLzI_N9lSiFDhYwCRKhqwdOw3HEu8-0oU/s400/DSC00580.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360293233171862530" /><div style="text-align: center;">Nice tiles</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0CW6MgoInBhbsOG-GJGbCm6YRUzuw6ivRratPDOIH6q7WmcA5GNBS3DS8kTMZKkIcHvB_VRrlENQwz0CKOxwBQOtkLRea3BMUpPQozDHZrM_oKi3mprPZ0qZTapQxYviVq7j33DFOmE/s400/DSC00583.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360293229839665970" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Through the next door</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXms8Iiet4kfMl7fJynfqZk9oGFFA-ROcJ4Rh5XmeaTb04o5rZeLzLmAZzW-5Ed31gL0IICOn0IsLPwgky6B4Y3Y047A8fO2Rbe_uU-TNftTiP8GAFubjBAks33qjATYJWbNII2H_aKDs/s400/DSC00647.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360291269946926786" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Through a courtyard</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDauRTbR3WSc8sLLiX0nLBfEsDRrjazsW_UGnfcCo1rz570Bo_t6LDf8wdRZ0BY0eD4NO9iuL8tOoHQVH-tT8S7BPWpVOuCapR90uxj_m0B052zZFNNDX-tEZxnqBiKjYQEJ7s4S1pZnM/s400/DSC00652.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360291262136810402" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Under a couple arches</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEEeSF3IJhCPi9rj9tIRlN7THeG-ettv0Nh8wKjE1FgVQB0Ei8QsT_eQgdd1kYDNJfFZpwZ7GIZWliVc8NSLUpknA8sahoDxAHKa9AUB1ptwJimORZUd75HluArDqmPmsKyes0LHQh2c/s400/DSC00653.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360289072716865762" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Past the stairs and the elevator shaft</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONV__kl6mw2ouhKz9Rb318DfzMazVJrByP6VWOuOAHPo4WAhZt791mzbACdbzhDXevQQ8rRL0wXjTQTnFYTfUrZrO_coz767eNefqiELrwjatfJ4I5CDw01NyLHncliMhdA9P2juOQfI/s400/DSC00654.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360289062274744098" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Past the old bathtub full of rocks and some plants</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRiKkg5Dj_36e9LoP2Rmz1tYsq1NLYsIcg7odsLWAR3OlqyH1Ze87hXgiObvnWUoJLFog2pThE1n7r6EoqNCTILw9PR5LQe2QFjNXsdjLFMWYQtMbIw1MG1ha-2s9jYZKv9WT7HHcg_IA/s400/DSC00655.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360284577325940018" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Under a couple more arches and past the garbage cans</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2hfaupFjx10ufRieJdOmPoPUBQhCKPKOpKF9oOCYwLCetw_rc-o5jp4MZaClJJ5SXE8KgkD3g6_09b3al945-eSTBSFpC4HzDklfDZRTwKiDmuW3-nCsEYr4LOIKdqQWE-6hLyUVO3Q/s400/DSC00657.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360284576007602546" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Up a few stairs</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VEVh0RpddfKjDE2ExaeqWm4iBFZD9Ur50OWSQWKCeApJxEYjoNbH73AMfT_kzZsm3f_G6C0qpp2bN2nTuiM2DUYInFwmxKPb5EpCIRf0PZ21Ap-0d8qlZCC2zqbjufFSplx5tOL4qI0/s400/DSC00658.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360281061518613570" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">To the left through the garden</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDhr6vSMXe4LnBs5ydF40d_NXSERJJRZXfcCcZNfAf75EZMgpRwoTsVYkLDdV9Kqy_JStMLlEjimzuHyjYGSvNrTWun3kc0_NHOrEYg8Ot5XS3YLgp_WoOZL8C2IT8-C3SS_CPClRvyQ/s400/DSC00660.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360281056778105506" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Down the path</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHm60FZDYDqYTBrXy0G1K3gv657wY7rEZKObExLdx3NvxuiJ5ABF-kd57tWpfzoIBTWQOnaNirnfOL3EAzOTYNlj91NyaEZU3Zua9nvM5S9XHp_B0VRCWhVVx4t64TOnS2QYknTztMoY/s400/DSC00659.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360276802054963538" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Up the stairs</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0R52eIcGLoW4XSO4w9IWsgCf6BoJgQKvglVLPlx0_2g1mGEkmbRg_QvysVvgrCbyfL8Pg5YFYTzXYEAH08CqKaFQksHIXwlhWQhveEG3GyAyIhpb5Qlax0IIjKuvUjKMU0EQkCMHjqc/s400/DSC00662.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360276795571737154" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8MbbqYP7dXOa5JHEpW7gpTq4yZKrgqguGE62eQvi9eVHXwYD4EYzHCUA3VZ_LGt5_Rcw6zde_PFw47H5ntIzsa-4Gb8NpPz2sFmpOrOTiryXZUlksLK_Mv20_PVMu4xequOUHokn9Nk/s400/DSC00664.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360272546727416210" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">More plants!</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjtZQ2t7hNk1fvcVSPTCsUFgZmnbB-U1UZkmwCnrpaIoJorJgn-t_lfHAhARbtiF3O6WODZFrcat99Jfzhh98tTmb183SuFKQGn76qf9YuAWPIBviAAADIAP6p7SudQn1lGx_LkWENfE/s400/DSC00665.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360272541040532466" /><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">This is our high-tech security system</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGk-DIbD9roR0wlK0plY5qcRo6FY5ZG29zx3lkxBGy0lDto9Feb4w9R-IAo_upcwfkT5xU8LhHta3kG0nn6VfqDOQnRIrFGaNbM_a9ieConOosE1V0Ok8wnNsFtgzA5_WgU-iAEvWEMU/s400/DSC00609.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360268361362000610" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Through the front door</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0qCbzR7KU67B_MJ_y7Wn5lI1xkteFl4SI47r_n1ZsehdVgRvSstYlSSGAB7CtSwkmVCvVdDqNJSXBdX_hiEpycYPPJGRz1tpGeRtrNQhwEDJF6Eta8BsNFcfpi20EkcyH08uTqaQ-Yg/s400/DSC00608.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360268351278210562" /><div style="text-align: center;">And there it is!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip2NN_yqzfLSr-blDWDG5qqlonlcaoSdwMdj4PhGCQFCiINyzkhMWZSkKCdHldh4CjuqWnYY7V3Hg3-do4kusbENdJ2CEX9-iFvMY8TaU4DjXsw_VFGSR6IyDZRiLRzBcXEareIAxSbKk/s1600-h/DSC00595.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip2NN_yqzfLSr-blDWDG5qqlonlcaoSdwMdj4PhGCQFCiINyzkhMWZSkKCdHldh4CjuqWnYY7V3Hg3-do4kusbENdJ2CEX9-iFvMY8TaU4DjXsw_VFGSR6IyDZRiLRzBcXEareIAxSbKk/s400/DSC00595.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360295672260431858" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-56685905892347751432009-07-11T10:48:00.002-02:002009-07-11T10:57:33.920-02:0010 Things That Would've Been Good to Know Before Moving to Buenos Aires<div>Here's a little list of some things that would've been good to know prior to moving here. If you've ever lived here you'll know what I'm talking about, and if you're ever planning on coming here this list will probably help you out too.</div><div><br /></div>1. As a non-citizen it is technically illegal to rent an apartment without an Argentine, land owning cosigner, so you are forced to rent "vacation" apartments which are priced in US dollars.<div><br /></div><div>2. When you buy a cheap cell phone on a pay-as-you-go contract, the money you put on the phone expires within a month. So don't keep putting 100 pesos on it and think that you're just talking a lot.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. If you eat red meat multiple times a week it's going to change your body.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Coins are special. When your grocer asks you if you've got 20 centavos, say no, <i>always</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Instead of spending hours trying to decipher the Guia T, use the website www.comoviajo.com.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. The summer is hotter than hot and the winter is not that cold, despite what the Argentines say. Unless you plan on traveling far south it's not necessary to pack for two opposite seasons.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Always kiss on the cheek- even if it's your first time meeting and there's a swine flu pandemic running rampant. Otherwise you risk the chance of probably seriously offending someone.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. When you're earning pesos and paying your rent in US dollars, you're probably going to lose some money</div><div><br /></div><div>9. Maradonna is the best footballer ever. Period.</div><div><br /></div><div>10. Don't call them the Falklands!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-47651230763126833692009-07-03T19:52:00.008-02:002009-07-06T19:49:35.209-02:00The Worst Place In The World<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jwX3JenxRviWvZM-djIg9OcqkCs9VUOOyuKs0_xA2a96z5CCLhMsjJ5wbDlc0xT3SK-11KkKfJxrr2Esgw_-NQtrEtmfRawYJ48y9fFn-0r_1oVDvzRYRjZZAWp7b2eUBaBh1LR7c0c/s400/DSC00556.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354356540922399634" /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">One of the annoying things about travel writing and travel writers in general is that there seems to be an unwritten rule: if it's new to you and if it's not American then it's got to be the most amazing thing you've heard/seen/done that day. Well no, not always and sorry if this offends some but I've seen Hell and it's called El Caminito, and you can find it in the La Boca barrio in Buenos Aires.<div>Do I regret going there? No, because I'd heard so many other traveler's tales (traveler's like the ones described above who love(!) everything indiscriminately) about how interesting it is, how it's a must-see, you can't leave without stopping by. If I hadn't stopped by I always would've thought I'd missed out on something fantastic. It may of taken many years, but that sort of stuff irks me so I would've made a concerted effort to go there again, and imagine how pissed I would've been! I would've spent years being bothered that I'd never gone there when I had the opportunity to and all for nothing because it's not even worth driving by, much less walking through! I can't express how relieved I am to have avoided that scenario.</div><div>Anyway, let me explain to you what El Caminito is. It's like an attraction at Epcot that ran away from home in Florida knowing that there was something bigger and better for it, a whole wide world for the taking! But then it got in with a bad crowd, one thing led to another and before Caminito knew it she was hooked on the bad stuff and started turning tricks to make enough to get the next fix and keep her pimp at bay. It has that kind of a seedy, desperate, heavy veneer to it.</div><div>The buildings in this 4 block area are all painted in different vibrant block colors, and in photos it does look rather endearing. <i>In</i> <i>photos</i>. What photos don't capture is the line of waiters that lay in wait on either side of the street, literally ready to pounce on you as soon as you step into their territory. As you wander down the center of the street looking up at the buildings people swoop in on you, thrusting flyers in your face advertising this bar or that restaurant or heckling you: "AMERICA!!! Come have a coffee here! Nice tables! I love AMERICA! Or are you English? ENGLAND!"</div><div>Once you successfully weave your way through the vulture-esque waiters you start to notice these creepy looking mannequins on all the balconies and in the windows (see the picture above). I took a closer look just now and I'm pretty sure most of them were dressed as old-timey prostitutes.</div><div>Then, to make matters worse, you soon notice that the majority of store fronts are all souvenir shops of the worst sort. They sell the crappiest stuff, stuff that only appeals to people who grew up in transportable houses. Shot glasses, thongs emblazoned with "LA BOCA" in gold letters, mugs/mini license plates/dog tags with the Spanish version of your name, clay ashtrays and other things that really have nothing to do with Argentina other than that they have "Argentina!" written on them.</div><div>The area of El Caminito has a genuine history behind it that is completely lost and forgotten in this tourist trap from hell which only makes the entire area even more depressing to visit. If you ever go to Buenos Aires, please, save yourself the hassle of getting to El Caminito because it sucks.</div><div><br /></div></div></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfBJUHmDcQXVkTfuVFt8RCxzj0FOi5gn6gQYwnY210VYS-x2kSO2QhWlbRx89O5YN6OI-AU12eqHx7QAMljN8RuWTa4VO3XRme7CkjAUjuubF2I7ApCTTH4IHVT9Kl13VFgsRrtstsfY/s400/DSC00550.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355462992781560098" /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1fbXFtr53AMOdxuAf2oMI69DtcNjzY5bPaG34iU_e-4VhYNaHB5bHNaKsRqz83akylKAtesJNqPMlqD0_NTpso3VNohENR1r3hGHwbpH9hX4KGMsfmTwCtuYbhYcbU-ij5PxeZkDvWw/s1600-h/DSC00555.JPG"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1fbXFtr53AMOdxuAf2oMI69DtcNjzY5bPaG34iU_e-4VhYNaHB5bHNaKsRqz83akylKAtesJNqPMlqD0_NTpso3VNohENR1r3hGHwbpH9hX4KGMsfmTwCtuYbhYcbU-ij5PxeZkDvWw/s1600-h/DSC00555.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1fbXFtr53AMOdxuAf2oMI69DtcNjzY5bPaG34iU_e-4VhYNaHB5bHNaKsRqz83akylKAtesJNqPMlqD0_NTpso3VNohENR1r3hGHwbpH9hX4KGMsfmTwCtuYbhYcbU-ij5PxeZkDvWw/s400/DSC00555.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355462966289728066" /></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-85858218223145867142009-07-03T15:15:00.004-02:002009-07-06T19:45:54.885-02:00The Silver Lining<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzVxqWmjot6vBYf4CsqoJsCqTVS9dWaQNQ6BKCrFd0tjzH2HPqBG_YbWmhT7qMVVC02amgFd-d7PZDlagVHGly36D-9HYB3_kdreZlyCOp5ZZ4lHMtsWIcciU-LrIEsVLRcB_wEAN2ao/s1600-h/02argentina.600.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzVxqWmjot6vBYf4CsqoJsCqTVS9dWaQNQ6BKCrFd0tjzH2HPqBG_YbWmhT7qMVVC02amgFd-d7PZDlagVHGly36D-9HYB3_kdreZlyCOp5ZZ4lHMtsWIcciU-LrIEsVLRcB_wEAN2ao/s400/02argentina.600.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354291577466670034" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">image via <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/02/world/americas/02argentina.html?_r=1">www.nytimes.com</a></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>Swine flu is hitting Buenos Aires in a big way and although some people seem unfazed about the whole ordeal, there are just as many people up in arms and railing against the government for having put the nation's health at risk. <div>The Argentine government has a history of thinking it knows better than everyone else, so when the Health Minister warned the Kirchners that there was not enough Tamiflu stockpiled in case of an emergency she was dismissed. Now, with the cases of swine flu mounting into the thousands, the death toll now at the third highest in the world behind the US and Mexico, and schools shutting down for 3-4 weeks minimum, the Health Minister was forced to resign and people are spitting mad.</div><div>Probably because, in addition to not taking the pandemic seriously enough to stockpile medications <i>just in case, </i>the government has also been suppressing facts and figures until <i>after</i> the Congressional elections were concluded in the hopes that their mismanagement of this situation wouldn't lead to their party being voted out. Fortuitously they lost anyway, so all that hard work of keeping people quiet came to nothing.</div><div>But there's a silver lining to every grey cloud, and for me it's this: I don't have to work on Saturday mornings anymore! And Graham doesn't have to work at all! And he still gets paid! Hooray for school closings!</div><div>UPDATE: Now my big, multinational company has cancelled all their English lessons until further notice. I think we're headed for a Mexico type shut down.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-4347108762523487562009-06-27T12:51:00.004-02:002009-07-03T15:57:09.259-02:00In the News<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiljN6T_d0E596Agfc25a9DUkJqMMec-QRZBLyKRIioejjVCFWQIL7DcERet-1ll_pABLRQVhBBRXIEijU27JGsEHeTVGQahIKGnyHgS8UwlzO_3NGpxXO64eV4HbcS4fGhZg64BzX1eTw/s1600-h/DSC00323.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiljN6T_d0E596Agfc25a9DUkJqMMec-QRZBLyKRIioejjVCFWQIL7DcERet-1ll_pABLRQVhBBRXIEijU27JGsEHeTVGQahIKGnyHgS8UwlzO_3NGpxXO64eV4HbcS4fGhZg64BzX1eTw/s400/DSC00323.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352025594606286994" /></a><br />Just thought that I should mention that while South Carolina was looking for its governor he was here, not just in Buenos Aires, but in our neighborhood- Palermo! We're relevant!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-53974701191055407592009-06-26T21:05:00.005-02:002009-06-27T11:47:19.394-02:00Colonial LivingMy grandmother was born in India in the early 1900s and enjoyed all the perks and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">privileges</span> of a daughter of a colonial general. I've always imagined her life like that of the little girl in "A Little Princess" before she (the character) became an orphan, and as far as I've heard, it's a pretty accurate comparison. I've always wondered how wonderful it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">must've</span> been to live in an exotic country with servants to wait on you, to lord over a manor, or better yet, be the child of the lord of the manor.<div>No more anymore. This era of ours is not an era of colonialism, and anything that faintly whiffs at colonial overlord makes me <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">squeamish</span> and overly apologetic for being born to upper middle class parents.</div><div>Our very comfortable apartment here in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Buenos</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Aires</span> comes with a pool in the back, a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">portero</span> who washes the floors of the building (including the sidewalk) everyday, heated floors, American appliances and two cleaners who come in once a week, Lidia and Daniela. We have been living more comfortably than most Argentines and for this I feel a pang of guilt, especially when the cleaners come in to clean up after us. Neither of them speak a word of English and in my rudimentary Spanish I've pieced together that Lidia, who is in her 40s, is from Bolivia, lives here on her own and sends money back to her family dutifully. Daniela is a mystery to me. She is probably in her 20s, helps Lidia out ever since she injured her thumb, shows up here sometimes two hours before Lidia does and watches TV on our bed until she does. When she's not watching TV they're blasting Argentine pop radio stations which must irritate the upstairs neighbor.</div><div>I certainly appreciate that we have cleaners who do a good job of cleaning our apartment but I can't stand to be here when they are because it makes me feel like the colonialist, living better than any of them may ever, exploring the world while they clean houses for (what must seem like to them) fat-cat Americans. I feel like if I'm not there then it's less of an affront to them. So as soon as Daniela shows up I grab my gym bag or work and head out for a few hours.</div><div>Yesterday she caught me right before I was out the door and asked me what I wanted to do with these clothes that were on the floor. I always clean up before they come around but I missed this pile of clothes because they were hiding on the other side of the bed. I picked them up and put them in a pile on the bed and made large arm motions over them trying to communicate to her "Don't worry about this, just leave them here, I'll tidy them up when I get back". And with that I left.</div><div>Two and a half hours later I returned and was dismayed to see that Daniela was still there and that the only thing cleaned was the bathroom. I wasn't upset because she'd been watching TV the whole time, but that I had exhausted all my tasks to occupy me while I kept out of sight. Worst of all, I noticed that she had folded every single article of clothing in the pile and put them neatly away in our drawers. I was suddenly twisted with guilt for not being more clear because she <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">must've</span> thought I actually told her to do that. Feeling a little shame-faced and with no other excuse to leave the apartment, I just picked up my book and hid on the balcony.</div><div>Thirty minutes later Lidia came in and then they really got down to work. Lidia came out with a bucket of water and a mop to clean up the balcony floor and asked me to move out of her way and I blushed with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">embarrassment</span> for feeling like I've affronted them again with my presence. I hid in the bedroom and tried too hard to ignore Daniela when she came in to mop up the floor in there.</div><div>I think Lidia likes me but I'm not too thrilled about this. Last time I got caught in the apartment with her she started asking me how much house cleaners make in America and it went quickly down hill from there. Having some foresight I purposely gave her a conservative figure at $10 an hour and she almost fell to the floor in disbelief. "<i>American?!"</i> she asked with eyes wide in disbelief, I nodded my head slowly and she went on to say how rich she would be in Bolivia if she was making 10U$ an hour here. She could be retired already! </div><div>A little later on she asked me where Graham and I were going after this and I told her the itinerary of our trip, but she didn't mean that, she wanted to know where we'd be <i>living</i>. With a little bit of hesitation I told her that I planned on going to London for awhile and Graham would probably be going back to New York. <i>New York City?!</i> she asked with eyes wide again and again I slowly nodded my head yes. I have to give her credit though, she didn't waste anytime, she started making plans to move to New York City in the fall and Graham and I would help set her up, <i>yes, sounds good? </i>Partly because I couldn't believe my ears and partly because I felt excruciatingly awkward, I started pretending I couldn't understand a word she was saying, 'like a true colonialist' I thought to myself with sheepish shame. She lapsed back into talking about how alone she is here and how much she misses her family and I wanted to jump out the window when I saw tears well up in her eyes. Instead I just nodded my head, yes. She's a spry thing though and quickly laughed it off and went back to cleaning, leaving me home free for the moment. </div><div>When she caught up with me yesterday there was our regular awkward banter, <i>You teach me English, yes? Yes you teach me English and I teach you Spanish.</i> To which I have to respond that I work all week and my only free day is Sunday (which is true) and I just don't have time for another student. She laughs and shakes her head every time I say this.</div><div>She saw my bike out on the balcony when she came to out clean and asked me if I'd be selling it when I left. Yes, I would be, and she asked how much I bought it for, and I told her 450 pesos. I'm not sure if she made an offer but she told me to sell it to her, which again sent me looking for an escape route because I had intended on selling it for 350 and doubt she wouldn't have balked at that price. I said I had to think about it and that seemed to appease her for the time being.</div><div>She knows when we're moving out of this apartment and I'm a little worried at what she may ask from us before we leave. That may seem a little pretentious but I'm certain it's a valid concern. The last time I was in a spot like this was after I'd gotten back from a safari in Kenya with an old boyfriend. We were at home, getting ready to go out when a ridiculously long number came up on his caller id. Our guide from the safari was calling and asked Matteo for a large sum of euros for a loan because his wife had been taken into hospital and in all likelihood would die there without the money needed for medicine. We were with this man for three days and neither of us had ever heard him mention a wife so Matteo told him no, to which the guide responded by begging him not to tell his boss that he had called us. </div><div>It was a ruse, clearly, but I still felt cold and callous, and more so when I got angry with him for putting us in that kind of spot. We gave him and his boss a great tip when we left, so what the hell? This is the situation I'm worried about entering into on Lidia's last day with us because we won't have the luxury of having thousands of miles between us, I'm worried she's going to watch TV until I run out of things to do in the cafe and have to come home. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-63178813033178824212009-06-26T13:45:00.003-02:002009-06-26T13:51:59.166-02:00Hoof<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGkEWGigjdDaJ8mXFghzAcQOFMbr58JF6SyHtLtwtfxMuxHQxQb3KAkK26DGWhQq-WMe6I8i0OcRMnfZnITrs6DnLYwbEy9kT-dNbigtm9_WghipqaskMzCBE9g3QBTIkbJhUdxc3lek/s1600-h/DSC00521.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGkEWGigjdDaJ8mXFghzAcQOFMbr58JF6SyHtLtwtfxMuxHQxQb3KAkK26DGWhQq-WMe6I8i0OcRMnfZnITrs6DnLYwbEy9kT-dNbigtm9_WghipqaskMzCBE9g3QBTIkbJhUdxc3lek/s400/DSC00521.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351663715138687842" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Just in case you didn't believe me when <a href="http://hoptop.blogspot.com/2009/03/yerba-mate.html">I mentioned it before</a>, there it is.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-68262325407783701022009-06-25T19:40:00.014-02:002009-06-26T13:56:18.311-02:00Politicos on Parade<div style="text-align: left;">Congressional elections are coming up this Sunday and for the past two weeks the city has been literally littered with political campaigning. I guess we're not so heavy into campaigning through posters in the US or the UK because those are what struck me the most about these past two weeks. It must be because I'm not used to them, but I find them utterly hilarious and sometimes ridiculous. Because of the heavy poster campaigning that's been going on I've gotten very interested in this election and have grilled some of my students on the particulars.</div><div style="text-align: left;">For instance, did you know that congressional elections in Buenos Aires are supposed to be held in September, but this year the government has moved them up to June without a clear explanation. Speculation states that it's because Argentina has been relatively untouched by the global economic crisis and that the incumbent government wants to take advantage of this fact so that they can get voted back in while the people are still thinking of them favorably. Which begs the question: What does the government suppose (or more likely know) is going to happen between now and September that will likely change the way the populace views them? Fishy stuff, but this is Argentina so no one seems too upset by the government's subversive tactics.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Secondly, it's illegal <b>not</b> to vote in Argentina for everyone over the age of 18. Although no one ever has, you could be thrown in jail for <i>years</i> if punished to the full extent of the law. However, the typical punishment is just a ticket (boring). The only people who are exempt from voting are those over the age of 80, those who are seriously ill or mentally handicapped, and anyone else who lives more than 500 kilometers from the nearest polling station in a major city; bad luck to everyone else who lives 499 kilometers away.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Thirdly, to ensure that everyone makes the right decision, the government forbids all campaigning to continue once the elections are no more than three days away. This allows the voters to really think about the content of the politician's ideas and their message, not just how attractive or unattractive he or she may be. And to make sure you don't get drunk the night before and sleep through the elections or drunkenly tick the wrong box, restaurants and stores are not allowed to sell or distribute alcohol Saturday night starting at midnight. Clearly the government really, <i>really</i> wants you to make a well-informed and clear-headed decision since you're being forced to anyway.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Although I appreciate the freedom of choice you're granted in the US and UK not to vote I've decided to hold my own elections based on the campaign posters (which is consequently how I used to vote for student government in high school).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>MOST AMBITIOUS:</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxcYhm8AOSBpROy76hipj0ZgbQOtKzhjT6XP6FuzM7mpO_M6JZFxEXzzuIJVmvdWU1jwwqoNILEKi9Z2A104u5p3gautGR1PInwlhjtpYtFNDbfmTCR6oiw0hiAA47V-WQWutxOgKGY1o/s400/DSC00512.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351635087928005746" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">For obvious reasons; because his name is Prat Gay! Although 99% of Argentines probably have no idea or care about how ridiculous his name is, I still think 'Good on him for not being crippled by the cruelty of his parents'. However, he is a bit of a creeper, he's the one with both hands on Gil's shoulders. He's an ambitious creeper.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>MOST DIABOLICAL:</b></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_xDPLT4gqtsKjU4mS8GQkr0cMagE2OdP2UnyvwtkBfd-eMC45W2i1KCQ6aU8DZbJfXpQke9Yfo2Dbi3e7K75Ry4fAE6J1p6c2zWVrEQvQ4ozW_NbqcdnnkQtl0AOOBhZLeeBszgQOk8/s400/DSC00507.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351392693058009362" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8Z5sjl_Whhw7nj7gb7kvmDdHtqvgFUYp2GH72i8wMkxfWZrYfQB_Wl7KlqUCEkJZ-ZBsTM6bkKFMfP9Suz13wnp4IFUX97elK5RdIOwUGJ24FzcMX9eAWEfVkPrIuCmYGYXcuerGu20/s400/DSC00535.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351392691271365986" /><div style="text-align: center;">Clearly this man does not have an image consultant, or at least someone close enough to him to tell him that by cocking his chin down he's making his balding forehead appear bigger and projecting a menacing look. I included the party group shot because I particularly like how everyone else is linking arms and it appears that he has just busted into the middle of the chain and stuck his arms through the other two's. I bet the rest of the group don't even like him.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>MOST CROTCHETY-LOOKING:</b></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZn1pvitkb-YLHC13UcyOxf_Qsy_NyNEq_DdlzWamEFkmzp_P2t08Ntyc0fZQZffvljL2dxPH2-4F-KEWoEl4aHhyToXBw0sPP5JnvkEennXz3dnJv8XBtzSU-PFihVPurTz5laoWh24/s400/DSC00547.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351390565576647730" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ln7GuGKGprC9IyBeLKNMwoZV5JuNHS3yVpjR68k5LKuqaiRFH_2QvLusxhIrPXUsBIPOlOicjQtJrzMHf5LBcCnskuJkK6dL_hZh8v8kIUosjQTiauOoLkL3HtG6spIKK9bDwR2ZkS8/s400/DSC00536.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351390560212178562" /><div style="text-align: center;">Pino is a famous Argentine director, and I don't know what his deal or his party is about but I love love love that in his solo shots he couldn't break a smile! His wrinkled forehead, bushy, arched eyebrows and thin mouth all communicate to me that this is a man who doesn't like his tea too hot, his meat too chewy, or his women too chatty. I included his group shot because he has a horrendous smile that kind of makes him look like Wallace from "Wallace and Gromit".</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>BEST GROUP SHOT:</b></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgortgpeS4_obz5F6Y1HP-KVbrzWzO_yWnwNk7D3H68N5qENaat6zqO0jGRIXt7wuDskkB1uQxbayq2OoWeSBCgCUlCdqP5oXNlJlxKqCIy16GvnyG3qnXDtqM3sgDMyl5iapwBfz8_B40/s400/DSC00549.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351635092880609714" /><div style="text-align: center;">I like this group shot the best because in all honestly, I probably could've made it, and I only know how to use the crop tool. Plus, the guy standing behind and to the left of the main guy in the center front is so pissed to be there and he doesn't care who knows it. Me gusto mucho.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>BEST POSTER CAMPAIGN:</b></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbahHvmSoYudBMzf_NDy1FWhP2wGtubBSWnwvMlOnyYIslM4aJpOYtt6IoIoV_uXpu76iJhWKVGQpzU8bKSiOrc_zNz923AN9Md-rkf7xbgOjMkxdYhEMqYc1W64eoAycb7e-Bnzcjnqc/s400/DSC00510.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351387075950295858" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">These were the first posters I started noticing around town because they were everywhere and I had no idea what they were for. The play sign made me think she was a recording artist with a new album out and it almost made me do a search on Google to see if she was any good. Points for intrigue.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RYmeuXvdj_9mAxgSnMtBL9MG2Te74D4RRTQSabFwCrdC8X_aI7mSu7P1jZXONJJeKO2BI2VW50UIdbsOjTRyPm6B8NJGOBaV_yzEReLB_cyBqF7-exZrhyphenhyphenTxb-e8ZvVlZyrJYg2v-LA/s400/DSC00509.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351387069684155730" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then these posters came out last week and finally, a face to a name! I don't mean to sound catty or overly critical, but I figured out pretty quickly by her looks that she wasn't a recording artist. But for a political campaign I thought this was immensely clever, introducing first her name, then her face, putting a face to a name, it's something subtle and it sticks with you. I get a kick out of it every time.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFED0Wtn1CFlTlGXb6zATELmz-oWDeQ0lGqRZDaioYLC1w5aHBK69UhxdSy0NMF8kZaaRpwnAzQfAJmPOaw10_Oj3-wNjvAOWpjrk6-cm9vqUYdV2y1_sSeVN1_FVoIUrw8AnKV0CFGaY/s400/DSC00537.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351385140313801202" /><div style="text-align: center;">Then this poster came out a few days ago and I don't have a clue to who the hell he is. Clearly he's not Gabriela Michetti so what's his face doing on her poster? In all likelihood he's probably a part of her party so why not put his name next to his face? This has been really bothering me but I'm still giving her the Best Campaign title due the fact that she's been able to cause me so much irritation with her posters. This is far more reaction than any of the other poster campaigns have elicited from me, so kudos to the Michetti campaign manager.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgmFht-caAip6uWQZ4OuYfCwqubKTXbVvm9acua-ZJTYKT0ERN_Mdqexdv4IfmfZClJIvQ4HINdKyim50_UE123LEl6OQvaEwkGmb8PGVXQIL0ILYck0aIkBZ381xb_ev7sMtL6GsvLI/s1600-h/DSC00548.JPG"></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgmFht-caAip6uWQZ4OuYfCwqubKTXbVvm9acua-ZJTYKT0ERN_Mdqexdv4IfmfZClJIvQ4HINdKyim50_UE123LEl6OQvaEwkGmb8PGVXQIL0ILYck0aIkBZ381xb_ev7sMtL6GsvLI/s1600-h/DSC00548.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgmFht-caAip6uWQZ4OuYfCwqubKTXbVvm9acua-ZJTYKT0ERN_Mdqexdv4IfmfZClJIvQ4HINdKyim50_UE123LEl6OQvaEwkGmb8PGVXQIL0ILYck0aIkBZ381xb_ev7sMtL6GsvLI/s400/DSC00548.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351635101158686898" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">This picture is just intended to demonstrate the fervor with which posters have been going up, being pulled down and pasted over. There's much more where this came from.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-18345556312053322842009-06-17T17:18:00.007-02:002009-06-17T20:07:14.154-02:00The Mobility of National Holidays<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_Vr7v-PtztxzY9SxglDXurXwWyWJIGcWAFNZZ5ggEO4tlUgSmx-M_MF2qL99chEJ6h-LJ9oMLVC2pgsaHu1IfUV22Z-JRyhRaisrojtyXql196fEZjI9J8Ao6sjJeZF2rRuz8VA19uc/s1600-h/argentina-flag-manuel-belgrano.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 386px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_Vr7v-PtztxzY9SxglDXurXwWyWJIGcWAFNZZ5ggEO4tlUgSmx-M_MF2qL99chEJ6h-LJ9oMLVC2pgsaHu1IfUV22Z-JRyhRaisrojtyXql196fEZjI9J8Ao6sjJeZF2rRuz8VA19uc/s400/argentina-flag-manuel-belgrano.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348378877944366194" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">image via www.buenostours.com</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><!--StartFragment--><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none; text-autospace:none"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since I started working here in Argentina I haven't gone more than two weeks in a row without a long weekend due to a holiday. In the beginning I didn't really pay attention to what the holidays were for because I was too busy enjoying my days off to really care. But with the passage of time the novelty eventually wore down and soon I found myself curious as to how businesses could cope in this country considering the fact that their partners in the rest of South America are hard at work while they're grilling on the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">barbecue</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. One student told me that the day off almost isn't even worth it because partners from Brazil, Chile and the rest of the continent, knowing that you're about to be out of the office for an extended period of time, start flooding you the day before in an effort to get everything they need from you before you become unattainable.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none; text-autospace:none"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We celebrated Flag Day this past Monday and it's a day that commemorates the creation of Argentina's national flag. If you look it up you'll notice that Flag Day is officially listed as </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">occurring</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> on June 20</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">..... and I'm writing about it today (June 18</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">) because yes, you read right, the entire country celebrated it on Monday, June 15</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none; text-autospace:none"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Apparently the government finds it really annoying when national holidays fall on weekends (don't we all?) so they've decided that it is their gubernatorial right and obligation to move national holidays around at their discretion so that they fall on weekdays. The official justification for this is that it encourages tourism.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none; text-autospace:none"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But what is their exact criteria when choosing a day to move the holiday to? I would've thought that proximity to the official date would be the main idea here, but if I were right Flag Day would've been marked for public celebration this Friday, the 19</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> instead of the 15</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Or, if they wanted to keep it to a Monday, then why not the 22</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">nd</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> which is still closer to the actual holiday than the previous Monday?</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In a country where corruption is semi-accepted as a part of government I like to imagine a bunch of old men sitting in a dark library, drinking scotch and smoking cigars with their diaries out on their laps, figuring out which weekend they can all agree on to take a group trip, a boys only weekend, down to the beach together.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The next holiday is Independence Day (the second of two in fact), and much like our own American Independence Day it is so intrinsically linked to an actual date that to move it would be almost blasphemous. This year Independence Day falls on a Thursday, so it seems highly probable that the government will either declare Friday a day off as well, to promote tourism, or 99% of the population will just take the day off anyway.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here is a list of all the national holidays for 2009 in Argentina:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; font-family:Arial;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1 Jan </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">New Year's Day<br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">24 Mar </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Truth and Justice Day <br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2</span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Apr </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Veterans' Day (</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Malvinas</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">- don't call them the Falklands!)<br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">10 Apr </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good Friday <br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1 May </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Labour Day <br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">25 May </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">National Day (Anniversary of the 1810 Revolution).<br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">15 Jun </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">National Flag Day (</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Belgrano</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Day) <br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">9</span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jul </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">National Independence Day <br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">17</span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Aug </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">San </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Martín</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Day (Anniversary of the Death of General </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">José</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">de</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> San </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Martín</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">) <br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">12 Oct </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Race Recognition Day<br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">8 Dec </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Immaculate Conception Day <br /></span></span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">25 Dec </span></span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Christmas Day</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Race Recognition Day has got to be the most creative reason for a national holiday I've ever heard of.</span></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-30403737319219174702009-06-15T21:37:00.002-02:002009-06-15T21:57:47.525-02:00Blowing UpIn case we haven't told you personally yet, Graham and I are blowin' up. Pardon the self-congratulatory tone, but it's kind of true. Graham is now an unprecedented third-time 'Photo of the Week' winner at the <a href="http://www.saexplorers.org">South American Explorers Club</a> and is entertaining an invitation from another photographer to put his works in an exhibition. His album of doors has also received some laurels over at <a href="http://argentinastravel.com/3940/the-doors-a-buenos-aires-photo-essay/">Argentina's Travel</a>, a website dedicated to the promotion of Argentine tourism.<div>As for me, I just signed a freelance contract with Propel Media, Inc. to do some travel writing for the blog on a <a href="http://blog.besttraveldeals.net/">budget travel website</a>, and was thrilled to have an article written on my favourite subject ever, the public transportation system, published on the local expat newspaper's website, <a href="http://www.theargentimes.com/culture/thoughtsofaforeigner/">The Argentimes</a>. If you're feeling charitable and have a moment, visit these websites and leave a comment so that these organizations know how lucky they are to have us. Just don't mention I told you to do it please!</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-58451225836431951512009-06-15T13:24:00.010-02:002009-06-16T18:21:12.273-02:00Cafe TORTONI<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX0talL9GDasMA6fJcfpzbNwmQ0wF9TNAwQFpaBYxkGJp51U1Bxq5gobrGtw_bNUAjeUW6-IEy1DEqaDNi1SSiFHljIDsHLxxFi9cNkANpx46bThe1JuvOzCfj6LwqDagNUJh9mHclrwQ/s400/DSC00468.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347576920689380546" />In every guide book you come across, a visit to Cafe Tortoni is at the top of every 'Must-Do' list. I don't like being told what to do but this historical cafe has been around since 1858 and holds the title of the oldest cafe in the city. It was the favourite stomping grounds of such Argentine notables Carlos Gardel, Jorge Luis Borges, Luigi Pirandello, Federico Garcia Lorca, Arturo Rubenstein and Julio Cortazar whose images are immortalized in bronze busts scattered throughout the cafe. But don't ask me who they were, I only recognize two of their names because they're subway stops I have to use. <div>Regardless of the historical importance that this cafe probably represents, it is, in my opinion, worth the visit for the quality of the coffee alone. Having been spoiled by a year of Italian espressos I have found the coffee in this town to be a disappointment, oddly thin and watery considering the <a href="http://hoptop.blogspot.com/2009/05/inspiration.html">delicious richness of their milk.</a> Tortoni's espresso tastes how espresso should, and the Italian cappuccino (although not slightly Italian at all based on the cinnamon, chocolate shavings and chantilly cream) was scrummy. The waitstaff is a tempered cross between formal and fed up; they walk around in dark suits with starched, white napkins over their forearms and when they think no one is looking they roll their eyes and bang their trays in frustration. A good mix of surly and sincere is crucial at any tourist trap destination. Oops! Sorry, tourist trap is too strong, but if it makes one more "Top Ten List" then I doubt it will avoid that moniker much longer.</div><div>What Tortoni needs the most to preserve its genuine and historical character, and therefore shirk its growing image as 'Tourist Trap', is to foster its older clientele who normally range in age from 60-85 years old. Not surprisingly this demographic finds themselves disgusted by the lines outside waiting for a table and too old to be waiting around for a cup of coffee. Instead of sending them to the back of the line, and therefore basically turning them away, Tortoni should usher them right in, front and center. With its polished brass, mahogany wood, high ceilings, marble tables and cushioned seats the cafe looks too distinguished to be overrun with tourists in their sight seeing gear. What's missing at Cafe Tortoni are the older ladies in fur coats and muffs and men with monocles. Anything else looks like plebs playing make believe. </div><div>In summation, the coffee is great, the pastries aren't much, and the austere atmosphere illuminated by fluorescent back-lit stain glass on the ceiling reminds you that Tortoni's heyday has long since passed.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo58zZ7m3TIqZlpPn04-dtYNkp5HzkoXV2_L6m8un0YOhuzm7QEBeKxCuKqs-JDBz_Vw85XXuoZp3AOS4qsjKMuJbZn-o_4V6Xo755e_SCTBVRKeRod2_R3KuK2MN6Bn3ZpNmV_-QPG2w/s1600-h/DSC00475.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 346px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo58zZ7m3TIqZlpPn04-dtYNkp5HzkoXV2_L6m8un0YOhuzm7QEBeKxCuKqs-JDBz_Vw85XXuoZp3AOS4qsjKMuJbZn-o_4V6Xo755e_SCTBVRKeRod2_R3KuK2MN6Bn3ZpNmV_-QPG2w/s400/DSC00475.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347580007245718754" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUU59i3ivIQVeQS3JJMLf9uAIa3150D_9uK310kCgm9H4c4mCwthuHnBqb52fw4HnE_bP7OYRzmlQt2khqPnZ4WtcV18uKwboawUjFQzrH2pmGFV2n_mcs4BVwu5fj1cVox55co4Gpfc/s1600-h/DSC00471.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUU59i3ivIQVeQS3JJMLf9uAIa3150D_9uK310kCgm9H4c4mCwthuHnBqb52fw4HnE_bP7OYRzmlQt2khqPnZ4WtcV18uKwboawUjFQzrH2pmGFV2n_mcs4BVwu5fj1cVox55co4Gpfc/s400/DSC00471.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347578598223779106" /></a><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-16968129658079243252009-06-11T21:32:00.007-02:002009-06-16T14:02:13.058-02:00La Fiaca<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqCiVUPkSmcc08gJ42lGgTw34Q73sq_Umo4-zMV-vlKCQRSIt7sh7kHzNOXMfXDe2maS5GajV4oYSMUNC3KU8mqpT99UT0IGWMAGRXMwATqSGTUg6dpdd63vGhqAmW8v4EY9wxQPWO2Z8/s1600-h/smog-jj-001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqCiVUPkSmcc08gJ42lGgTw34Q73sq_Umo4-zMV-vlKCQRSIt7sh7kHzNOXMfXDe2maS5GajV4oYSMUNC3KU8mqpT99UT0IGWMAGRXMwATqSGTUg6dpdd63vGhqAmW8v4EY9wxQPWO2Z8/s400/smog-jj-001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346217169857259602" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">image via Treehugger.com</span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Fiaca (pronounced Fi-A-Caah) is the <a href="http://www.elportaldeltango.com/english/dicciona.htm">Lunfardo</a> word that describes a sense of sluggishness, tiredness, reluctance to do anything and proneness to illness. Since I've been in this city I've had three colds and experienced uncommon laziness. I'm not trying to say that I'm the epitome of health or an 'early-bird-gets-the-worm' kind of person usually, it's just very strange for me to come down with three colds in a row and rue the moment of waking up as much as I do sometimes. <br /></div><div>As I was running for the bus one day I happened to dash behind another bus just as a cloud of exhaust fumes spewed out of its backside. I instantly felt a strong urge to vomit. When walking down the sidewalk it's not unusual to have to hold your breath every other block or so to stop yourself from inhaling bus fumes. By the time you get home from a day out and about you're typically dying to take a shower because the layer of grime all over you is starting to seep into your pores. Sometimes I seriously worry about the damage I'm doing to my lungs just by breathing the air here and the years it could be reducing my lifespan by, the tragic irony of living in a city named "Good Airs".</div><div>But this affliction isn't just the blight of the un-acclimated immigrants. They have a cultural-specific word for the symptoms that I (and it seems almost everybody else) routinely experience, so obviously this is a fairly common state of being that's been around for some time.</div><div>However, if you try to convince the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.cometobuenosaires.com.ar/people.html">Portenos</a></span> that fiaca is possibly brought on by the poor air quality they are simply opposed to the argument. Never mind the deductive reasoning behind why, when they get out of the city and into the mountains they suddenly have enough energy to run up and down hills all day. Or why, once they come back to the city, they want to curl up in bed and watch TV all day. I tried bringing this up with one of my classes this morning and true to form they denied any connection between the state of the air and the health of their bodies. They said that fiaca is simply a cultural characteristic of the city-dwellers, a side affect of living in small spaces with too many people around, something that is really rather quaint and charming if you think about it. A persistent cold is actually just allergies, and in this city 'allergies' are as common as parrillas. </div><div>For me, I can't stand the poor air quality so it's not surprising that since coming here I've developed a deep appreciation for mountains simply because they look like they're surrounded with cool, crisp, untouched-by-diesel-fumes air. As great as Buenos Aires is, I'll never live in another city that doesn't have some kind of law imposing mandatory emissions testing. </div><div><br /></div><div>To read about someone else's first encounters with fiaca <a href="http://tomandheather.wordpress.com/2009/05/24/fiaca/">click here</a>. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-3887151159634673042009-06-08T19:48:00.004-02:002009-06-08T20:15:05.215-02:00Best Business Cards<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0t2oNwsG_xr4uX7Hc-KYK1hqfxLFeOHr4gIz-SoThzOe24BAmWDcJPzH6xFeRrNu_lBmUTXUCEn2WHAkFjaQDXmaJGkFUURSlD_HeV14UHMp8sV5uNDB4QLYn1Qmoy0j_oArZD3SrZAU/s1600-h/DSC00444.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0t2oNwsG_xr4uX7Hc-KYK1hqfxLFeOHr4gIz-SoThzOe24BAmWDcJPzH6xFeRrNu_lBmUTXUCEn2WHAkFjaQDXmaJGkFUURSlD_HeV14UHMp8sV5uNDB4QLYn1Qmoy0j_oArZD3SrZAU/s400/DSC00444.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345078103950910674" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Just a picture of some of the more visually interesting business cards I've picked up here. They've inspired me to start a collection... if only I could find a practical use for them.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-67207395847226763982009-06-08T17:14:00.006-02:002009-06-08T20:26:28.029-02:00Get Out of the Trees!<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Some of the trees here in Buenos Aires are so beautiful, this type is my personal favourite, with dark spindly branches that twist and turn up into the sky they jump out against the screen of blue and green above your head.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4lxpdl5KIC06TBp9ZblmbAahm2uaR88KhZ67w_ahyphenhyphenPolfasmNpNd6qbotIY-6MOjBTNgUF919BAYnQ4A9HA7fffs0sRsTGsGWwIibpPderGY31MvJuUXzZfNmxTMgYU24uA5D9NENU_c/s400/DSC00495.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345046207674048802" /><div style="text-align: center;">Other times, it's just amazing what you find in the trees. For instance, me.<br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiirgQW-dNrib7e5sqHE8-jzSnLLNbD5GpTvPBkGP32RA6ku_-njoItNaotACX0fa8TQGVf__IKbgXameAPv4oYtRJu-rLQCKR9Ts8Pq5_vqpHn0jmlSFotGppgUJP0aFqiGGTVHeZvqSM/s400/DSC01083.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345046198569813874" /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Or somebody's bedroom.<br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGBkH7_g5vtlHgRCA1gTv4_VEjG9pIb844BkBxhQvBfPCICVOfdTFfhDR0hzsCex7iWAz00EKEgl9CPkrMLkG95v1sQ9sh-e8V_dmIqRzkoD9bAPeRZzx8TcHncIIUm2d57tYgVNrXeI/s400/DSC01012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345046191430795314" /><div style="text-align: center;">Or a massive tumor.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwiDB6DTp48uiOGEbkjX72ztLXwoKZFZINuvDIuym1Iaqb_biFudJ5vjiCCVHh864gvWELPSxciL0wAaqcr1ybcW7Y5eVhBA-iiu1cmtUrvxcN6ulSeKb2lJyq0miv-lEO1PRtRvcgSE/s400/DSC00413.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345039661759366434" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Or another tree.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDVJH9a1NLNI0bevEVmqeYJ0DMd7UXudJsXwNg5Nt5WGWSThf5KmTGwjav9Fggu2j5pMQKCTbQKrzeI1Q3EfQScfGEOxQ-lpKWYwrOclf5O57tGNa_xT3YSC7kmbiMjkEceK2KThbmc4/s400/DSC00447.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345085031584648146" /><div style="text-align: center;">Or a house. Or is the tree in the house? Which came first?<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7LZsAqgHAVA3PuceAG9B0Xp-0mk_sxjl2pl7XNKwPuWj_u87UJOe3wljynwCEZYG45QlNYFLUYKh96mGa-k-5HVBi6Cjw0Jv5h7hpo1vewIpM9j_Vzs7_fuww_6eM_BXTQR4iepscBs/s1600-h/DSC00157.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7LZsAqgHAVA3PuceAG9B0Xp-0mk_sxjl2pl7XNKwPuWj_u87UJOe3wljynwCEZYG45QlNYFLUYKh96mGa-k-5HVBi6Cjw0Jv5h7hpo1vewIpM9j_Vzs7_fuww_6eM_BXTQR4iepscBs/s400/DSC00157.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345039656793872706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Or a pregnant-looking bird.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiXGIaTIWIkVlH9nyblnU-WlMJuGl9iFElXVxU0HaZmks8XRY7Y2L8TuPe1n5w4A5tq-jIGppkPnj9N9RIlWSMDEzvAYdL-0WDBfmtrOZChciqG-tasQRYgJ2nKbz0byVFz4qzxzLX8i8/s1600-h/DSC00374.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiXGIaTIWIkVlH9nyblnU-WlMJuGl9iFElXVxU0HaZmks8XRY7Y2L8TuPe1n5w4A5tq-jIGppkPnj9N9RIlWSMDEzvAYdL-0WDBfmtrOZChciqG-tasQRYgJ2nKbz0byVFz4qzxzLX8i8/s400/DSC00374.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345039653099774482" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*All images via Graham Newhall over at <a href="http://inthereef.blogspot.com/">The Reef</a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-23604593476703241162009-05-29T19:36:00.012-02:002009-05-29T20:44:20.280-02:00Noquis Del 29<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341371230877189090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5v4_O6HY0YKzNwDTPvB7QQ8zVammi5jbeCAqfbIhN5YTRNocT9V-vCzrOWaopswuxC4unj9oIlNLCPo_8kYRaYX2HPqE5vkI6QV4MGFHBxQM2ngw68KI3TUhN-J4uOkZ-KQK_dRBpQM/s400/noquis.jpg" border="0" />I think my favourite food holiday ever has to be the 29th of the month, Noquis Night. Here in BsAs they promote the celebration of food, specifically noquis (or gnocchi), on the 29th of <em>every</em> month. Every where you go in the city on the 29th you're bound to see signs up in the bars, restaurants and of course, the pasta fresca shops, advertising special meals and deals for noquis. The tradition follows that by the end of the month you were most likely pretty low on cash, so flour and potato (being the cheapest foods around) are combined to make a delicious meal you can't shake a stick at. Traditionally you're supposed to put your last 100 peso bill under the plate to make your money last as long as the meal, however I've only got about two pesos left to my name at the moment so I'll be skipping out on that part of custom. <div><div><div><div><div>Despite being dirt poor I'm on board with any holiday that promotes and celebrates good food (ie Thanksgiving, Boxing Day) and will happily shell out for a good meal, but I'm especially zealous about a holiday that celebrates good food every month of the year! Feast your eyes on this and eat your heart out:</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341372555525234274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfaQN9aZktqgYLJ7VqAEsRrvuvYgmTXl1_LzEWWiWjLJBwgdkSubXyd6PXXG2WRTrKh-LabX44lL6u7otCF9Var9eZkD5PXVqtP3KDR4UUEVZGN1bZgArT7giizz_EOZkHMFMPD48b_M/s400/gnocchi+and+pumpkin.jpg" border="0" /> </div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-56566609635031750402009-05-28T20:03:00.004-02:002009-05-28T20:07:32.211-02:00Worst Name Ever<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKqMNs1KOcW0vZ5e9wQOdSrW_7dE4LDW0anCY6PE2Is3URD5qUZAPJWaj3HYFT6JP1itKZP56lrGT1ihdFbNhN3HotFEPJr9hCzmKhArRsDMOv9jOZGhXNoxRWX0m8L-4T06UCxIhg9Y/s1600-h/DSC00437.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340999477965412770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKqMNs1KOcW0vZ5e9wQOdSrW_7dE4LDW0anCY6PE2Is3URD5qUZAPJWaj3HYFT6JP1itKZP56lrGT1ihdFbNhN3HotFEPJr9hCzmKhArRsDMOv9jOZGhXNoxRWX0m8L-4T06UCxIhg9Y/s400/DSC00437.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> *This is not a joke</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-58213365785872113232009-05-28T19:10:00.005-02:002009-05-28T20:01:59.471-02:00No Patience<div><div align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340986267295713218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJ2hF3Z-yCpZTVKNJpIgzqjjta3ggsXnG_IUz7_iJcuBjBdQhOxPDNUfiwHi63p9ZGrfajau3DyNigMC6Jh_mk7thJH6YYfJv4o6u_Fb94jt9gHZMbaM-bg8_h867P7oX_jAdKO1bLVA/s400/DSC00439.JPG" border="0" />This photo does not do justice to the heavy sludge of traffic that is now a permanent fixture outside our balcony. I call it a sludge because it does not flow in the way that typical city traffic does. The cars behave more like sludge in that they inch painfully forward until gravity (or the blare of horns) finally forces the buildup to burst forward in a sudden and jerky plop... and then a red light again. The buildup resumes and the horns blare, the entire routine repeats every 3 minutes and all the while I go slightly more mad with every red light. These Portenos do not believe in a single "Hey you!" or "Get going!" honk. They prefer to communicate their dissatisfaction by leaning against the horn of their cars until their wrists hurt from pushing too hard and display no regret or concern for the people who live in the buildings around them, i.e. me.<br /><div align="center">Here is further evidence that there are too many people in this city: </div><div align="center"> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340992451376273714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8illSBUiK7DVdiAQfYknljsuk2uAd7_JZyOQv1hpfHQBVI7zJE2PcWbm5cg0L_GQPAAf-518zucWyUNKstRVdIOAbL4WpYufBRtzS4m47GP6PKpvQtdGIfmf0YySqSisHToxl0_PbDbk/s400/DSC00428.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340992457958035858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BITJNPVh1eND53diaqTtO2lefn7BQYWBZJuntWyo_wEXDLRYL7cuKIy4ZGI3XVVUNf1o5uf09c6HjP4HUoxjEr7kIfJwieapxHoFB-qZ-9OCx7E3TKgo4a-hiER59MndhVH9LSy12WI/s400/DSC00430.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;"> Rush hour on the subway makes you feel like this:</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340997125754436050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinM_VjtliFfbnnarer0DeXw0HgurIYgkYtmH8e0tcWiIeND9Lj6Pou-gmMO8bPrh8meQPlUBznDlE2yPy_54D755VQ6U7hVFKuB5lVVbJ4c-fPo_2d7KYm3wyCzHrkBtaix-2RRLs17QI/s400/DSC00433.JPG" border="0" /></div></div><br /><p>*I asked the woman facing me (in Spanish) "This is normal or this is crazy?" She answered with defeat in her voice "It's always like this."</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-561477336806845432009-05-24T21:11:00.006-02:002009-06-15T13:23:58.412-02:00The GIBRALTAR<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFziQpiCUzkvMa6TpSbVJ3dBF9WdtBt-yaio5eDWmGGU1-iggIKmOOV2yV_ZSZPGFyOs9I6hZEkxLToLhxgELloaKujizARlAgtQOxEms20K6rqbCARylhfd9eXR40lSIdSTjJHbSMB4o/s1600-h/DSC00501.JPG"><span><span></span></span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFziQpiCUzkvMa6TpSbVJ3dBF9WdtBt-yaio5eDWmGGU1-iggIKmOOV2yV_ZSZPGFyOs9I6hZEkxLToLhxgELloaKujizARlAgtQOxEms20K6rqbCARylhfd9eXR40lSIdSTjJHbSMB4o/s400/DSC00501.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347570273349394930" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_oO8Hzr3ELyJkSvaUnHNvvRbA9u8NvfndWL3pmgaMJwrR-ldcoeLTSrLpxEiA1sd2tNDSFJNbxmdw5nm0sxJn1q030QyqWNyzfo6XpwGr9F02JMDFFBmQlJZt4hb14pNnxUJ4WoWqcM/s1600-h/gibraltar.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><div style="text-align: left;">The Gibraltar is probably the nicest English pub in<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_oO8Hzr3ELyJkSvaUnHNvvRbA9u8NvfndWL3pmgaMJwrR-ldcoeLTSrLpxEiA1sd2tNDSFJNbxmdw5nm0sxJn1q030QyqWNyzfo6XpwGr9F02JMDFFBmQlJZt4hb14pNnxUJ4WoWqcM/s1600-h/gibraltar.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"> </a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Telmo">San Telmo</a>, with it's dark wood, draft ales, plethora of whiskeys and traditional English grub. But like so many other impersonators, The Gibraltar just falls short of the originals it tries so hard to replicate. However, The Gibraltar cannot be blamed entirely for its shortcomings because (although I know a lot of people who would disagree) the English cuisine is a delicacy that needs to meet exact specifications in order to be recognizable. Beans on toast? Only if they're Heinz. Binoffe pie? It better have a thick layer of gooey toffee in the middle.<br /></div></span>It was nice to order these things, and if I had no prior knowledge of what an English breakfast or a binoffe pie is supposed to taste like I would've still loved every bite. It's just that if you go to The Gibraltar looking for a piece of England, remember that the real thing is far better than the knock-off.<br />One thing that was an exact tranferance was the <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Manc">Manc-y bartender </a>whose idea of a good joke is this:<br />"I've been married three times you know."<br />Me: "Oh wow, really?"<br />"Yeah, my first wife died from eating poisoned mushrooms."<br />Me: "That's bizarre."<br />"Yeah, then my second wife died from eating poisoned mushrooms too."<br />Me: "Oh my God, what?"<br />"And then I beat the third wife to death because she wouldn't eat the poisoned mushrooms"<br />Me: (I didn't understand a word of his punchline through his heavy accent, but he was laughing so I figured it was a joke I hadn't picked up on. Graham later told me the punchline and I swallowed the last quarter of my cider in two gulps and booked it out of there).<br /><br /><em><strong>The Gibraltar</strong>, Peru 895 y Estados Unidos, San Telmo, Buenos Aires<br /></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-52409778950522203882009-05-24T14:03:00.011-02:002009-05-24T21:53:10.499-02:00Graffiti Nation V<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZFwBoiXtVOuEaCbhKgt4-avgjKVq-nE7hyKIk7c0wr_-NiSS8PKH8EFSn2WRnRDufGqKVX0zIyCT3vUmLZ4rUcdw7LL7KNRL6u0Uu6G94Vox6hdcgOisv7Qe3hPyHDBCviBHt1y8TGY/s1600-h/DSC00153.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339525527345873746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZFwBoiXtVOuEaCbhKgt4-avgjKVq-nE7hyKIk7c0wr_-NiSS8PKH8EFSn2WRnRDufGqKVX0zIyCT3vUmLZ4rUcdw7LL7KNRL6u0Uu6G94Vox6hdcgOisv7Qe3hPyHDBCviBHt1y8TGY/s400/DSC00153.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339525524990903426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTftxBWoHbEbYMokm66AGrcAm-IIjuOHNU8EHA2WKUa8L_vi8u3VFbf-be6umHdRsN7ZQfSLMo5H15CuxQ3gH7QcuXtHIEZQvZKZXdqRgZNE5icP-d8q2lnnPi8wb-geYSjkuG-0ctT6w/s400/DSC00405.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339522535682117650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLuBw8kqn9EWKU_Tl_WazYbmelE3x_27SBpnjl3c2lTYY3h3Jx632V5A1NiKhTXvrGOLTZwBDZ_K8ZFQZOwqyK-pD7hB034wBWk4_sEYKeygQnZB5jM66ekV36gKlkJfx6DQWTi0kwkI/s400/DSC00413.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339521842278001570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhKa50Btze3zoJHKLo0msUdP5eY8OF9AHe3ALQtZbEjcaoL7LhMGlqO51Wz7u9F6YX-YBNcvt1cdKaU4IJcvHpu2hBX__QwG32BPRhgBJpM805fOe6LVagz2lMY69dUs5iypaSKlfRvas/s400/DSC00275.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339519555220095586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDsWmwSykhbh6tipo_hEi8fuXPQJWwGZSIAZ4fEmkSNxSymnedCGCzr8l8EbmvSqqjGgB05uGgBD0RaTZD0u7BZPWPYo-xMN-h1i57Qo50te-jT7NMhJSMQFvPk_1ChyphenhyphenfyN0yDQ9PVUeg/s400/DSC00306.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339520408478231378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVNlmirBnW9MUtdbWLKioxHACzuIrM0jdwvMLgrElXgXkjP3jJVwuTRgsdDV-Oe9Y_4oIcgMhsMuHYqTKKslqNykQ0MpH9X-Hi6pYDxldYJ0TR16zwKwLZnbcb3CS16Tda8Ef1MptYpRI/s400/DSC00265.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339518631549706482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzH-ASxMDWz4_kpZcDApQJ4PmJZ7diYhS2oqXd6Sz6wmf2ic2hiiSpOMxdDPHUSxeb41NghLhOV3qAZSeCKVoyVExz8WR6mWO9X4w9WQsJ6jPrIJza3LLGnAKniPKG3_0LiRgwLA_G2lE/s400/DSC00118.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339426955853619058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnIkJS2XiLzL8-sSLOSs5bx_xhYGHdN5HJwhc7ZQ8g1611LymRGwDyhOCVirDnJ9g6WcoT0ATPRBbVMh7zOjZ9iXg2QPRnWwvrgq0Z_rGH2xdwv9B6_XccTKfsBYA-5EfBsSTsuMwKzc/s400/DSC00392.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339426209529965842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00HxCSlMeqvo0zGAv413ShYtwMZKoA1QI2vgvbP93p-l_GQMsRfQEB7JxsfS_rqXEp5mN6VrGBU2t7Ca3iWI0e6BhlPLgJRJuHbfUnwPkfaNLFr9sPB4Il-oSa78up1kzhczvlA3BEh4/s400/DSC00177.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339422798560558722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQ8vvm0sDDGgAc-zgiX3-VS4ifU08-8rYBolMJDHvMtQmif7ovjAwIs6CICUPj8-Wz7wb4rEYLEGKgejn8biOVEOJ4m72U6XKf0gyEAFgLsIYD1fbEWgJ7Ow3v9kaBvm7azavHrULZO0/s400/DSC00388.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><br /><div>All these images were photographed at different times and in different parts of the city. You know that you're <em>really </em>getting to know a city when you can spot the work of individual grafitti artists around town. Whoever is responsible for the last three walls must be quite well known because he has painted the outside of the Cultural Gallery on Sarmiento in the same vein. <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/ashenson86/BsAsGraffitiNation?authkey=Gv1sRgCLz98Pz7ibvHdA#">Check out the rest of my ever-expanding album </a>on the city's finest wall art (or grafitti if that's your kick) and see if you can spot the distinctive artists through their work.<br /><div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3443068045828977409.post-89385438990520234552009-05-19T17:21:00.005-02:002009-05-19T18:28:57.165-02:00Inspiration<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dF-wo9ch_l61TysKyL9i43q33tcKEqM_uUnbeAcZGE0uKforO1mz-AXGJdgL7QLGaBImJg2k__ml_2RlP3nszGFApc8OhsqhjD7BpKy1hg8LXUhaJmHwhsoWppnQpQn28WL0FTXsdP8/s1600-h/DSC00369.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337618143747043746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dF-wo9ch_l61TysKyL9i43q33tcKEqM_uUnbeAcZGE0uKforO1mz-AXGJdgL7QLGaBImJg2k__ml_2RlP3nszGFApc8OhsqhjD7BpKy1hg8LXUhaJmHwhsoWppnQpQn28WL0FTXsdP8/s400/DSC00369.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Inspiration comes in all shapes and sizes. It's been more than a week since I last wrote anything and I have to admit that I've been lacking inspiration. I'm trying to hold this blog to a high level of integrity, I won't write about just anything, only those things that I think are worthwhile or that I'm truly passionate about. So as I was standing in the kitchen, trying to think up reasons not to go to the gym, it struck me when I needed it most as I was drinking chocolate milk out of the carton. The milk! I <strong><em>love</em></strong> the milk here. I've been meaning to actually talk to somebody about it since I first got here but it's one of those things that unless it comes up in conversation you don't really remember to bring it up yourself.</div><div>"Hi mama! How are you?...I'm good thanks, just got back from work.... yeah it was the class with the jerk in it... no he wasn't mean to me today.... I will.... thanks....oh by the way, have I told you how delicious the milk is here?" - Not likely. So I'm taking this moment of lightning bolt inspiration to put down into words how wonderful said milk is. </div><div>Luckily for me I read <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=17725932">a book</a> before I came here that pointed out that while you may think you're doing a great thing for your health by drinking low-fat/skim/partially skimmed milk you are in fact doing your heart a disservice as the fat that's taken out of the milk has to be replaced with something else to maintain a cohesive chemical composition, and that something else is hydrogenated oxygen. And in actuality hydrogenated anything clogs your arteries far more effectively than the natural fats which occur in milk. Sorry for sounding like a bible-thumper but I had to mention that backstory to explain why I'm only drinking whole (entera) milk here. I like the whole milk in England and America, it's good. But you know what's even better than whole milk? Half-and-Half. Sometimes when I'm sad that's my comfort go-to, straight from the carton, and my decadent indulgence in coffee and white russians. It's a special treat and it's delicious. So you can only imagine my unbridled pleasure at discovering that the whole milk here tastes exactly like half-and-half! As the Italians would put it, it's squisito! I never do this at home, but here I find myself craving and drinking full glasses of milk. If only I had had milk this delicious as a child, I may have grown a few more inches before coming out of adolecense.</div><div>The chocolate milk is great too. But I find the carton detracts from the flavour if you look at it while drinking. That cow's udder is about to burst and he's giving you a thumbs up as if it's all okay. It's gross.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0