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.

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

vistas últimas

rincones

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.

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.

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.

i heart julieta

Last night I emerged from a divine mid-afternoon power nap, a week of semi-sick doldrums and insuportable cramps just in time to catch a cab over to Estadio Pepsi Music on Libertador and catch a glimpse of the beautiful, Mexican singer Julieta Venegas in concert in Buenos Aires. The concert, put simply, kicked ass. It wasn't as sweaty as Shakira at the giant Velez football stadium, it was less rowdy than the Beastie Boys down the street, and there were far fewer psychedelic trip outs than Creamfields on the Costanera. The concert hall turned out to be much smaller than expected giving it the kind of intimate feel that those lucky enough to catch her at the Majestic Ventura Theater just a few short months ago must have had. I think Paul enjoyed it too as Julieta dropped some Mexican-isms talking about amores gachos and singing a song about immigrating to the US of A from her querido México de que nunca me olvido. She was beautiful, sweet, hot hands on the accordion, and a general encantadora.

Her music is probably my favorite of all the Latin Music that I try to sing along to in the shower. She sings lovely lyrics with sweet, catchy melodies. Before we went to the concert I read another BA blogger's post about how music in Latin America in general has much more to do with lyrics than anyone else and at concerts you can easily find 80,000 people singing along word for word with their favorite artists. This was certainly true last night and Julieta seemed genuinely touched when the small crowd took over singing duties for her. I tried my best as a gringa to keep up. I recommend her music to anyone taking small, tentative steps into the world of music in Spanish. Her spins on the iPod have gotten me through many a difficult bus ride through Buenos Aires. Enjoy the video and here are the lyrics to my favorite song:

limón y sal

Tengo que confesar que a veces
no me gusta tu forma de ser
luego te me desapareces y no entiendo muy bien por qué
no dices nada romántico cuando llega el atardecer
te pones de un humor extraño con cada luna llena al mes.

Pero a a todo lo demás le gana lo bueno que me das
sólo tenerte cerca siento que vuelvo a empezar.

Yo te quiero con limón y sal, yo te quiero tal y como estás,
no hace falta cambiarte nada,
yo te quiero si vienes o si vas,
si subes y bajas y
no estás seguro de lo que sientes.

Tengo que confesarte ahora
nunca creí en la felicidad
a veces algo se le parece, pero
es pura casualidad.

Luego me vengo a encontrar con tus ojos y me dan algo más
solo tenerte cerca siento
que vuelvo a empezar.

Yo te quiero con limón y sal, yo te quiero tal y como estás,
no hace falta cambiarte nada,
yo te quiero si vienes o si vas,
si subes y bajas y
no estás seguro de lo que sientes.

Solo tenerte cerca
siento que vuelvo a empezar...

la tontita

So after a brief hiatus, here is all the news fit to print here from Buenos Aires.

- It's cold here! Damn cold. It was 2 degrees here in the Capital on Monday and Tuesday last week and Argentines are dropping like flies. Every day the papers report people all over the country dying of cold for various reasons: lack of housing, carbon monoxide poisoning, heart failure, etc. The French woman who keeps coming to my Spanish class at the UBA contagious with fever and flu has made me sick for the second time this season so I am making a point of eating lots of soup and keeping our heaters rocking until this too passes.

- Today is election day here in Buenos Aires and around 2.5 million porteños will vote today to elect a new mayor. All pre-election polls are showing incumbent Telerman with his unfortunate bald head being ousted in favor of Macri, but only the next few days will tell as the quilombo which is the Argentine electoral process unfolds. In the meantime the election has provided political posters like the one pictured here with counter-political messages like topu, garca, and pontete pelo puto. Poor, bald Telerman seems to be taking the biggest swings.

- Last night the lovely Ana Paula, Paul's "work wife" threw a lovely party in honor of Paul leaving his job (take that however you wish). We spent a lovely evening in a beautiful area of Belgrano complete with designer stores, modern apartments, clean streets, wide green spaces, and general loveliness. Despite having no business in such a classy part of town, we had a great time nibbling cheese, empanadas, and cake washing it down with a selection of fine Argentine wines. Good times and giggles were shared by all and I think it's fair to say that part of Paul misses the 'Office Space' world. So far he's a total failure as a house-husband but hopefully even the monkey can learn eventually.

- I had a brand new 'Lost In Translation' moment that brought me to new heights of tonta last night. I was having a hard time keeping up, totally congested with a head full of snot and rapid fire Spanish conversation. Usually it's not a problem but combine fatigue, decongestants, and crankiness and you end up where I was - thoroughly lost. I finally tried to jump into the conversation with an easy topic: an Argentine friend inquired as to what, exactly, was a twinkie. I explained that they are sponge cake, cream filled, but totally disgusting because of the preservativos that they contain. Total silence. It was about 5 seconds before I realized I had committed a rookie mistake in a public setting. DOH! In Spanish preservatives are conservantes while preservativo is the Spanish word for condom. Lots of laughter (mostly from Paul) and one Scottish-level red face later, I tried to change the subject. Serious ego damage alert. Chalk it up to swollen glands.

- The longer I stay, the more homesick I get. I just heard that my dad had a nasty tumble down a flight of stairs. When I called home my sister, mum, and dad were hanging out together trying to make the best of it. I thought about Santa Barbara, how the summer must be closing in, about surfing, about going for walks with my sisters. The cold, dark, gray city makes me miss home. I think it might almost be time.

- A dear friend of mine is pregnant! Congratulations to Carla, her entire family, and her brand new bean! I need to start knitting again.

- That's all for now. I have sickness ADD and can't finish sentences, am way behind on my emails, and have procrastinated all weekend a simple work assignment. I can't wait until I can smell and taste again. Gagh! I am considering taking out a hit on the French woman in my class...

one shameless plug

For those of you that just feel they are too darned busy and important to check out One Sorry Blog - get over it! Now is the time. Somehow my evil-genius Pablito has created a monster over at WordPress that just won't quit. It's really pretty incredible and I encourage those of you who haven't peeped, to check it out immediately. After a short couple of months at the helm, Paul has bribed, brow-beaten, cajoled, begged, borrowed, scammed, sweet-talked, and otherwise miraculously herded a team of super talented writers into creating a sort of online magazine that is ACTUALLY worth reading. Along with the New York Times Daily Headlines and Lost, it's about all that drives me to tune in these days with my rapidly increasing work and kitchen duties.

Paul has amazing rounded up an incredible cast of non-writers that are incredible writers (note to self: remove title of 'writer' from my resume) and experts one and all in their given fields. One Sorry Blog is a maze of cool, funny, insightful, silly, and interesting contributions about all your favorite subjects: movies, television, gambling, etc. Paul Carnivale has joined the cast as a music writer (and so far, a darn good one) and ideas are being developed in Paul's evil genius mind as we speak. 17 minutes ago, Paul officially finished his duties as a full time translator for Trusted Translations. While I'm excited that he will now be my full time house-husband instead, I am a little concerned that his duties will be neglected in lieu of pimping his blog day in and day out. The point is, the site is pretty great and getting greater by the minute...

tune in...and stay tuned.

strange encounters of the buenos aires kind

Yesterday evening, after a very long day, Paul and I were strolling in front of the Abasto Mall (a giant shopping and cinema Mecca housed in the old Mercado Central). An Asian woman, well-dressed, heels blazing, slightly frenzied ran up to us shouting in broken English. Paul and I stop dead in our tracks. I think we were startled by the appearance of such fashion choices outside of Palermo Viejo and also someone of such elegance deigning to speak to us, schlepping around the city like two idling backpackers. The encounter unfolds, in English, making the whole the even stranger:

Woman: (shouting) Excuse me, excuse me! Where can I find more shopping. (Holds up shopping bags to emphasize meaning of the word shopping)

Paul: (Looks at Clare as if to say, 'Is she kidding?' then points at giant, unmissable landmark of Abasto Shopping Mall) Um, that's the biggest mall in town.

Woman: (frantically checking watch) It open until 10? 10?!

Clare: It's open late for the movies.

Woman: (Sound muffled by frantic heel clicking in direction of Abasto) Thank you!!

We walked away towards Carlitos totally baffled and still in search of Peruvian hot sauce. Very, very strange. Was the woman on an urban scavenger hunt? Did she have a 12 hour layover in Buenos Aires to max out her credit card? Had the throwers at Ezeiza carefully misplaced her baggage? What was the big consumerist emergency? We may never know. But I suppose when you need to shop, you really need to shop.

dando vueltas

After two cups of tea and an embarrassing attempt at Scrabble on my part, my boss called me yesterday morning. A serious no-no for a Saturday. The pobrecito recently rolled back into town (literally - wheeled off the plane) with a seriously messed up knee from an egregious kareoke incident in San Francisco. This crazy guy agreed to complete a whirlwind assignment for Rough Guides with a bum leg, 3 days to do it, and rainstorms on the forecast. Naturally, I obliged, using the excuse to catch up with the boss, get a load of his mojo with the ladies in Recoleta, spend a day as a professional photographer's assistant, and get serious advice on what to do with my new digital camera.

It was a seriously fun day schlepping from Las Violetas, one of my favorite hundred year old cafes in Almagro (with not a tourist in sight), to the El Ateneo Gran Splendid bookstore (which we agreed may be the most beautiful bookstore in the world), down to La Boca to check out kids playing soccor and check prices on galpón rentals. The nice thing about traveling around with a boss with a bum leg is that you travel in style, taxiing everywhere and cruising around at a pleasant pace. Even the heavy cloud cover didn't manage to stop Greg from getting some beautiful shots. I am pretty impressed at what a pro can come up with with just a camera, a few days, and a shoestring budget. Hopefully the rest of the world can check out the results in the new Rough Guide to Argentina. I love my new baby digital camera that fits in my pocket and rocks like a pro. This will keep me in photos until I wake up one morning with money for my digital SLR under my pillow. Happy Sunday, one and all.

best week ever

I have officially neglected my blog for far too long. I will now, try to pitifully explain why. So to rip off my sister the network TV slut, in no particular order, and in true Nick Hornby style, here are the highlights of my week in Buenos Aires:

- Jenny "la rata" Fickert, of Santa Barbara Independent fame, arrives at Ezeiza International sans luggage. Read more about the power and prowess of the baggage handlers at Ezeiza here.

- Jenny proceeds to exit the customs area without filling out a claim for her baggage causing an unhelpful conversation with an angry porteña and having to coerce our way back inside by any means necessary.

- I take Jenny on the obligatory schlep through the Recoleta Cemetery and the feria at the Plaza Francia where a kindly pickpocket relieves me of my digital camera and some great photos. Can't even lose focus for ten seconds in this town when you have to pee...

- We take in a touristy but fun tango show to celebrate Heather Christensen's birthday at boogie down at Fugees 99.

- After a long night at the boliche, the phone rings at 9am on Saturday morning. A friend of a friend (who we hadn't even had the pleasure of meeting yet) has the expected South American dysentery. I spend Saturday morning in the hospital and buying soup and crackers for a poor, unwell soul.

- Heather and Taylor depart on Saturday evening. This time, Taylor leaves with two passports having obtained a second to replace the first (which he lost in the taxi from Ezeiza) just two hours after the first was returned. Sheesh. The Heather and Taylor whirlwind trip goes out with a bang.

- We barbeque most of Sunday afternoon and spend it with Leta, the friend of a friend, who is recovering well from her dysentery and I feel pretty crappy by the end of the meal and have to skip the cake (balls!).

- I wake up Monday morning with the plague (which I am sure is a free gift courtesy of the sick and needy at the German Hospital on Saturday morning). I haven't slept at all Sunday night because I can't breathe and my throat is almost closed up.

- I spend Monday morning in the hospital (again), the rest of Monday afternoon schlepping my corpse around town playing reluctant tour guide while trying to procure my medication from various pharmacies.

- Having procured half of my medication, I throw my prescription in the garbage and put it out in the street for collection (chalk this one up to the no-sleep factor).

- I find out that someone I care about very much has a broken heart. And I worry.

- Today I faced a very hard 2 hour Spanish class being that I have the plague and all. I still haven't done my homework.

- I bought bus tickets for Mendoza leaving Thursday night on a coche super cama, nothing but the best for the plague-ridden.

- I figure I'll be alright if I can get through 8 more days of visiting friends.

- I am broke, broke, broke. So broke it's a joke (just thought I'd throw that one in for good measure!)

- Digital camera donations accepted (see the above highlight).

Back soon...

when good gringos go bad

Heather and Taylor joined us in the middle of Friday morning's thunderstorm. I promptly spent a day tromping around the city in wet socks and shoes (which I am convinced is responsible for my fever chills and scratchy throat this morning) and feeling like I was in high school all over again. They have spent most of the weekend on the Sarah Howell tour of Buenos Aires and celebrating Sarah's birthday in proper worldly style - with food and friends.



Paul and I did our very best to entertain by whisking the group to Carlitos, a Peruvian restaurant in the heart of Almagro. We ordered up a Peruvian favorite, Papa a la Huancaina, and giant plates of rotisserie chicken, french fries, and fresh salads. We ate ourselves sick until our final dish arrived an hour after we ordered it, and an hour after we were assured that the waiter forgot about it.



I had to include the photo of what was left of the table after Taylor, Sarah, and Paul were finished with the beef noodle dish. This, my friends, is what happens when typically good, well-mannered gringos are confronted with piles and piles of delicious Peruvian delicacies.