the schlep is on

Buenos Aires de mi corazón. It's been a few weeks on the road with surprisingly little looking back. I am missing my neighbor Margarita's empanadas. I am missing a place that feels like home and a bed that feels like mine. I miss my girls that made me feel I had a family wherever I landed. I am happy to be on the road again and feeling that every day is a new adventure. I am wondering when I will see the streets of Buenos Aires again and whether I'll see them again. I am reeling that my last sights of the city were from the back of a cab, lights on Corrientes ablaze, muddied with tears.

We are blogging over at the thebigschlep about some of the adventures of our overland journey from Buenos Aires to Santa Barbara so please go and read it. In the meantime this page will be mildly out of commission save for future reflections. Thanks one and all for visiting.

chacarita

Interesting sights and sounds can still be found in unexplored corners of the city. This weekend we went on a search for tickets for the El Litoral train that will take us on Friday first to the middle of the campo, then to the swamps, then to the border - but most definitively out of Buenos Aires. After our big purchase, we finally visited Buenos Aires' other cemetery.

I am trying to enjoy even the most particular of tramites that keeps us tied to the city: waiting for medicinal laundry detergent to combat malaria, buying bus tickets, exploring the new Bolivian visa laws, and allowing dear friends to cook us asado and share laughs. Some things, more than others, will be missed.

todo se cambia

Everything is in flux. Everything is changing. Gone is el jefe, his omnipresent camera clicking, his wild stories and matching gesticulation. Gone is my Gena and her outfits, perfume smell, and our Sex and the City lunchtimes. Gone is our little apartment in our little corner of Almagro. Never again will I have to play diplomat while simultaneously trying not to kick our landlord in the head. No more will Felipe the cat spring from his spot on the roof onto the dining table sending papers and cat hair flying around the room. No more mate y charla with my neighbor, Margarita.

It's just too much I feel sometimes. Packing, preparing to leave, making lists, tucking things into ziplock bags, and waking up every morning without tickets again and wondering what's next. It's all a bit strange and surreal. Like I'm saying goodbye to Buenos Aires over and over again without ever leaving and refusing to part properly with friends preferring instead to go with a hug, a kiss, and a "see you tomorrow".

Our plan to leave last week was foiled by an ATM card lost in Ushuaia. Thanks to the motherfuckers at Wells Fargo, we can't go anywhere until the card arrives. With any luck it should be here sometime soon and we should get on the road but, when?

I feel woosy. I have recently been vaccinated for Yellow Fever, Typhoid, and am waiting on a 3 months supply of Malaria medication (the stuff you take for weeks instead of the stuff that makes you hallucinate) and after a hurried chat with a holier-than-thou Travel Doctor who ended our discussion with "Don't swim in any lakes and rivers!!" have started wondering how anyone goes anywhere and makes it out alive and feeling like giving myself a gold star for actually making it to 27 without dying.

A new blog era has launched over at thebigschlep.wordpress.com which will keep interested parties as well as unfortunate web browsers updated on our overland schlep from Buenos Aires to Goleta. After a long day at the Paraguayan Consolute last Monday - our first stop already promises to be epic and if the amount of luggage in tow is any indication - it will certainly be a schlep. There is talk of Little Julie Nisbet coming to meet us for surfing in Nicaragua and Paul and I gently debate over dinner whether or not he should just "let me go" if I am the next kidnapped gringa in Colombia. If he comes home in December without me, you can guess the rest.

In the ultimate icing on the cake irony, we are passing our last days in the home of the inimitable Gena Mavuli who has kindly donated it to us now that we are homeless. We thank her from the bottom of our hearts for her generousness but reserve the right to be jealous of her Italian vacation coming on the heels of her Panamanian vacation. We live out the ticking hours in the one corner of town that we had tried to avoid for two years. Turns out the buses are awfully convenient from Gena's house, the pencil leg jeans and boots per capita is much higher, and the bullshitty, cheto restaurants are still overpriced. Who knew?

I am homesick, tired, sick from being made into a gringa traveler pin cushion, and itching to get on the road. Check out the dual blog... the Buenos Aires Adventure days are quickly coming to a close.

happy happy

Today is the cumpleaños of my one and only chango.

it occurred to me

that the email that I just wrote to my sister has a universal appeal and everyone should read it. It also occurred to me that although I am sad to be leaving Buenos Aires soon and not very good at handling change, that no matter where I go in two weeks - I just must get out of here. Enjoy.

jules -

i just had to leave my neighbor's birthday party because i sat down and her uncle said (in spanish) 'wow you've really gotten fat' and i said 'mmm hmmm' and someone said 'don't worry you'll lose all that weight in california' and then he said 'no but really, how much weight have you gained?' and i said 'i don't know' and someone else said 'no, he asked how much weight you've gained' and he said '7 kilos? 10 kilos?' and i said 'i know what he is asking and i said i don't know' and someone else said 'no but how much. you know, your belly (making big pregnant belly gesture)?? BELLY??' i said 'i know. i understand what you are asking. i still don't know. i don't own a scale' and then i left the room crying.

good times. i love argentina.

SERENITY NOW!!!!!!!

xo

esa mujer

Esa mujer es una casa secreta.
En sus rincones, guarda voces y esconde fantasmas.
En las noches de invierno, humea.
Quien en ella entra, dicen, nunca más sale.
Yo atravieso el hondo foso que la rodea. En esa casa seré habitado.
En ella me espera el vino que me beberá.
Muy suavemente golpeo la puerta, y espero...

- por Eduardo Galeano

vistas últimas

and now, which one is different and does not belong?

¡Ay, amiguito... cómo te extraño! Sad but true as can be. Which one doesn't belong? I know it's tough...

rincones

coming soon to home video...

...is a better version than what you will find here. On the night of Paul's show, Greg kindly taped the whole thing with video and tripod. Until we get it transferred to a usable file format, my janky, hand-held, multi-section video will have to do. It's also terribly shaky (because I was laughing the entire time!) so many apologies. BUT it's better than nothing. So here are the videos (in order).

and a good time was had by all

With lots of pomp and circumstance, Paul made his comedy debut last night to a wonderful crowd smattered with friends at El Bululú. It was a really lovely ambiance thanks to all the support of friends and friends of friends. Paul is now unofficially the 'funniest gringo in Buenos Aires'.

I want to say thanks so much to El Jefe, Greg Roden, for videotaping the event and his partner in all things photographic, Tommy, for taking some beautiful pictures. Luis for always schlepping us around in your cab and taking us to cool BA haunts. It was lovely, as always to see friends there: Luis, Susana, Greg, Tommy, Natalie, M.E., Ana Paula, Marisa, Gabo, Kirsten, Jason, Erica, Sergio, Pat, Isabel, Cyntia, Ana, Paulo (were you really there?!). Thanks for sharing a really fun night with us. Videos and photos to follow as soon as we overcome our technical difficulties.

are you being served?

Winding down to take off time in Buenos Aires means a flurry of visiting new places as well as a rush to try to revisit all the old favorites. My continued non-smoking campaign is taking me on daily long walks to new and old corners of the Capital Federal, and mostly in search of food. Last weekend was a major stockpiling at Carlito's Tuesday was a stop in Barrio Chino for spicy fried noodles and soup, and yesterday it was a trip to Rocket Bar and Bistro downtown just a few blocks from the Casa Rivadavia, our first home in Buenos Aires where we found an old friend (pictured here) behind the bar.

For me, one of the most enjoyable thing about living in a city is finding the city secrets. In London where the mighty pound can slash through a credit card limit in the blink of an eye, I felt a huge sense of victory when I found an amazing hole-in-the-wall pasta take-out with dishes to die for at prices you wouldn't believe. Although the cuisine here in general is much cheaper and generally yummy, it's relatively unvaried and there is a beaten path of over-stuffed gringos wherever you go. When you find interesting, ethnic, spicy, or creative food here at reasonable prices that are accessible and tourist-free, you gotta jump on it. Why is it that when you leave a city, you miss the food the most? Usually when I think of home I think of family, Mexican food, and swimming in the ocean... in that order.

y ahora...

A question of spelling... potatoe? potato? Whatever your problems in language, I assure you mine are still greater.

de acuerdo

The headlines of today's newspapers around Argentina include a smattering of news of statements made by President Néstor Kirchner yesterday during his visit to Mexico. Sounds like the Argentine president made some bold and much-needed statements about the US plan to build a wall off the Mexican border. The whole story can be read by clicking here. Say what you want about Latin American policies, presidencies, and pundits but when they are right, they are right. Kirchner is saying what too many nations are not saying about the US's ridiculous and frivolous plan. I suppose it is more nauseating for me on the heels of an evening where I couldn't make it past the first 30 minutes of Sicko because sympathetic tears turned into a hysterical near-panic attack when faced with some of the atrocities being swept under the rug back home. The fact that my tax money is being spent to build a country-wide fence and not to ensure that our parents as well as ourselves will one day die peacefully in a bed is just... well, sick.

My mind is just reeling. These things are particularly indigestible when faced with the idea of finally having to go home and face them. The point is that, in this case, Kirchner is right. The wall is wrong. It is a hideous affront to the world and must not be tolerated. While Argentina has a long way to go in some respects, it's worlds ahead in others.

recuerdense

starfuckers

Yesterday, when I was cruising around town with my boss, he casually mentioned that Starbucks had finally signed a long awaited agreement to branch into South America. I was flabbergasted at best. I suppose all the gringos in South America, Buenos Aires in particular knew somewhere deep inside that it was only a matter of time before the day arrived. I guess the news just tore me up. Being on the cusp of heading out of here, I was hoping to miss the actual bomb dropping, but I've been struck by Starbucks shrapnel and now, no matter what I do, I can't stop thinking about it. For those with a particular interest and who missed the news when it arrived (as I did), you can read the release in a May issue of Clarín by clicking here.

I guess I don't know how to feel about it. I'm really torn in so many ways. In case you have too much time on your hands, let me tell you why...


- There was serious uproar when Starbucks hit hard in the beachside hamlet of Santa Barbara. There were actual protests (I don't think I need extrapolate on their effectiveness) and a dear friend of mine went so far as to pose for anti-Starbucks ads that ran weekly in the Santa Barbara Independent promoting a non-profit that formed to support local small business owners. I don't want to be anti-capitalist but Starbucks chose locations both out of budget to local coffee slangers and strategically close enough to Mom and Pop coffee to render all competition almost entirely obsolete in record time. Starbucks in Santa Barbara is a big, strong-arming, American bully that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

- When it all comes down to it... Starbucks isn't all bad. As a corporation Starbucks receives almost constant accolades for their well-above-the-norm employment standards. You can investigate more about this (my information comes from a source who spent years inside) but your typical college aged barrista struggling to pay the rent and take classes at City College makes well above minimum wage and is eligible for health benefits at about half the working hours of any other corporation. Anyone who has seen Michael Moore's latest Sicko, can agree that any American Corporation that's bending over backwards to provide healthcare to all its employees should be given a pat on the back.

- Lots of people here, porteños specifically, say that Starbucks just won't work in Latin America. Despite the ever-growing presence of McDonald's, Burger King (Which, by pure coincidence, I visited YESTERDAY for the first time since I arrived in Buenos Aires. So call me an American. I had visited McDonald's before on countless occasions to pee but that's it. I took this photo to prove it because I almost couldn't believe it myself!) and other corporate giants - which, incidentally, are NOT cheap here - the McIzation of Latin America seems to be somewhat curbed compared to say, Europe or most of developed cities in Asia. The Clarín article references the total failure of the Pizza Hut brand in Argentina. I can't really put my finger on why I believe Starbucks will take off here... I suppose I just do. I think it's difficult to build an American franchise of Americanized Italian food in a country of snooty eaters that think they're Italian, slap American prices on it, and expect people to dig it the most. Pizza Hut was doomed. But coffee is coffee. Coffee, for most, is as necessary as breathing and people will pay mildly inflated prices for it when the need arises and the solution is convenient (I stepped of a plane in Texas in December and paid about $6US for a soy latte... I kid you not). Coffee in Buenos Aires is good but not SO cheap that the market can't be competed for. Coffee in a cafe here means sitting down for a half an hour. I would put money on the idea that in less than one year, the financial district's caffeine source will have a new face. I hate to say it but I think the porteños are going to lose the battle on this one. Besides, argue as they will, the richest, most influential Argentine buyers secretly (and sometimes not-so-secretly) EAT UP American culture. I think they'll drink this aspect up too.

- Summer. Like I said, aside from the occasional pee emergency, I have almost entirely avoided American corporations here but if I had to live through another summer in Buenos Aires, I would LIVE at Starbucks. I could lie to you and say I wouldn't but there are several reasons I would and why half the population of this city would too. Starbucks is sure to be an air-conditioned haven when the heat index tops 110 in this sweltering inferno. It's hell, people, make no mistake. Last summer I trawled the streets in a pool of my own persperation looking for iced coffee to no avail. I spent mornings in cafes fanning myself with the newspaper and begging confused waiters in broken Spanish for coffee with a side of ice and a side of COLD milk. The waiters were, to say the least, flummoxed. It was around this time that if a frappachino had cost 50 pesos, well, fuck it I would have bought one and think most people would have done the same. It's the small convenience that will allow the big bully to win out every time.

So to sum it up I'm torn. I don't hate Starbucks like I should, I don't want it to take over Buenos Aires and when it inevitably does, I'll probably drink their fucking coffee like a little lamb. That's all I'm trying to say. Part of me is sad that I really think that this could change the face of this city. I suppose I'm glad I saw it during the McDonald's era and won't be around to watch it all unfold once and for all. Chaucito.

tarot

From Miss Tango in her Eyes - Tango Goddess and soon-to-be-mamita-nueva! The little quiz is fun and the results are interesting. If you test your tarot, you should post your results in my comments.

You are The Sun

Happiness, Content, Joy.

The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple and consistent.

Young, healthy, new, fresh. The brain is working, things that were muddled come clear, everything falls into place, and everything seems to go your way.

The Sun is ruled by the Sun, of course. This is the light that comes after the long dark night, Apollo to the Moon's Diana. A positive card, it promises you your day in the sun. Glory, gain, triumph, pleasure, truth, success. As the moon symbolized inspiration from the unconscious, from dreams, this card symbolizes discoveries made fully consciousness and wide awake. You have an understanding and enjoyment of science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect, clarity of mind, and feelings of youthful energy.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

pompeya mía

A quiet Sunday morning, cups of tea and yogurt. A phone call, a helping hand needed, a welcome distraction. A taxi to a new corner of town, a bird market, a man with papered fingers handling pigeons, tropical fish, a sad, poor neighborhood and people. A garbage heap, the stench of the Riachuelo, villa as far as the eye can see. A few photos mark the last corners of town left to map before the expedition moves forward.

¡ponele onda!

About a month ago our friends Gabo and Marisa - two people that are too kind for their own good - somehow convinced Paul that he had what it takes to get up in front of a group of people and make them laugh. Despite my constant protest, insistence at his total blandness, and attempts to distract him from the task at hand by quitting smoking and constantly ordering that he run out for snacks, Paul has spent the last month compiling comedy material in preparation for his debut this Friday in the ¡Ponele Onda! show at El Bululú. The show is every Friday and features 4 or 5 up and coming local comics for short sets.

I invite all of our friends in Buenos Aires to witness Paul's comedy debut. Anyone who laughs gets a dollar...

Friday, August 3rd
10pm SHARP
El Bululú - Rivadavia 1350

Be there or be totally sin onda.

is canada so boring...

that we have to result to this?! Below is a pretty hilarious video of the seriously bored Argentine under-20 soccor team that just won the title in Canada. Apparently Canada didn't offer them enough fun and they lost their minds in the hotel. The resulting video is barely scandalous, pretty funny, and has been viewed almost 50,000 times on YouTube.com as well as making headlines here at home. Someone's mamma's gonna get an angry phone call...

a muggle quitter

God how I'm lumbering about this week. I promised I would stop smoking last Sunday, and once and for all. I kept my promise and four days later I am smoke free, an emotional ticking time bomb, professional speed eater, and driving everyone around me crazy. By everyone, I mean Paul who, thanks to my sometimes-severe deficiency in the friends department in Buenos Aires, is my almost entire support system these days and who has been faithfully putting up with my misdirected outbursts while coddling me with empanadas and Dairy Milk bars. I have taken the occasional walk, taught the occasional class, been swimming, shopping, eating, etc. and yet the headaches continue and so does the desire to make unnatural mouth-to-mouth contact with anyone having mouth-to-mouth contact with the Marlboro man. Not that I want pity. I do it to myself. I have one of those fateful 'addictive personalities' that people like to talk about. In my 27 short years I have been addicted to almost all possible substances both illicit and non-illicit and banishing them from my life one by one is getting harder not easier. Let's just say... I feel like a quitter. Now that there are no booze filled afternoons or cigarette and coffee mornings away from me - I wonder how addictive TV will actually become, or whether I will ever be able to cast-on well enough to be a professional knitter. To think I had so much potential as a child.

The tougher days still bring small pleasures. This week is officially Harry Potter week with the release of the 7th (and FINAL - boo!) book on Saturday (my preordered copy is waiting for me now - I can smell it) as well as the new film 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix'. To all Potter fans out there - muggles and mudbloods, deatheaters and Diggory-doters one and all, I share this week with you because I will likely be going underground on Saturday morning and not emerging until poor Harry's fate is decided once and for all.

feliz cumple, julie

Happy Belated Blog Birthday to Jules, my sister, my partner in crime to whom I owe several nights sleep, a lifetime supply of Titas and empanadas, several apologies for silly arguments, a few 24 box sets, and a really big birthday cake next year when I am home and with whom I share an undying love of Zack Morris, a few physical traits that make people think we are twins, Network-TV-Slutism, half my heart, and my entire funny bone. I couldn't be more diffirent nor more exactly like both my sisters. I couldn't be more proud of them. I couldn't miss them more. Happy Old-Girl Birthday, Jules. I wish you happy barbequing in Goleta and fistfulls of Mary cake with a side of bad TV.

empty nest

Parents have a way about them. Instead of just deplaning like regular folks, they seem to descend from heaven like angels of mercy wielding credit cards, good times, hot food, cashola, and priceless, kind words of advice.

There last few days with us here in Buenos Aires were spent in proper Nisbet style: nice leisurely walks along the banks of the Delta in neighboring Tigre, enjoying the sunset over the river from a boat-bus, gorging ourselves silly in our favorite Peruvian restaurant, Carlitos, during Peru's football games and cramming in as many last-minute empanadas as our poor bodies would hold.

Late last week I awoke cold and hungry, wondering if my mom and dad might be interested in a coffee and forgetting that I had put them on an airplane the night before back to California. Our house is empty again and visitors have temporarily stopped until later this month when we greet an old friend who returns to Argentina, little Laura Rivas, and Doctor Jenny Yusin who's visit might actually mark the final installment of the Buenos Aires adventure.

I am hungry. Hungry to finish my last Spanish class and have exams be behind me for once instead of looming ahead. I am hungry to be better: a better writer, editor, English teacher, helper, cook, wife and life partner. I am hungry to improve myself in every way and hungry to be on the road feeling I know every nook of every cobblestone of this city. I am hungry to visit Paraguay, revisit Bolivia, and step into Peru, Colombia, and strange coners of Central America. Most of all, I think I am hungry to go home. Though my family is continually littered in all corners of the globe from Michigan to Greece to the South Pacific back to the homestead in a little corner of Goleta, I am hungry to be home again though home may mean poor, jobless, homeless, and a whirling dirivsh of directionless.

As I write, dear friends, snow is falling in big, fluffy chunks onto our terrace in Almagro. My neighbors have taken to the streets with their digital cameras in vain attempts to record this historic day. The-little-heater-that-could is trying its very best to keep the living room above freezing and studying is, once again, being put off in favor of the Gilmore Girls.