The last days / Los últimos dias

I have two more days left in South America. But it feels like I have reached the end of my journey.

Just a day ago I was in Cabo Polonio, the most isolated town of Uruguay's Atlantic coastal region. Splendidly detached from the outside by sand dunes, no roads, electricity, and other modern amenities, perfect strangers who gathered in Cabo quickly became friends. Without distractions such as televisions, the Internet, etc., we spent hours on the beaches and long nights, cooking, making tropical cocktails and drinking wine.

But now I am tired. Sitting in a hostel in Montevideo, Uruguay, waiting for my evening flight back to Buenos Aires, I am suddenly anxious to return to the United States to see my friends and family.

* * *

Tengo dos dias más en Sudamérica. Pero ya siento que ha llegado el fin de mi viaje.

Solamente hace un dia estuve en Cabo Polonio, uno de los pueblos más remotos de la costa de Uruguay. Espléndidamente aislado por las dunas, y la falta de eletricidad, calles, y otros servicios modernos, desconocidosque llegaron a Cabo se hicieron amigos rapidamente. Sin distracciónes como la tele, Internet, etc., pasamos mucho tiempo en las playas y las noches cocinando, tomando vino y haciendo cocteles tropicales.

Pero ahora estoy cansado. Me quedo en un hostel de Montevideo, Uruguay, esperando para mi vuelo esta noches, de repente me vuelvo ansioso regresar a EE.UU para ver mis amigos y familia.

Che!

Oktoberfest, Villa General Belgrano, Córdoba

"CHE!" nos decían a cada rato unos muchachos de Rosario esa noche. En esos momentos, bien ebrio y solamente alegre de tener la oportunidad de conocer a otra gente, simplemente contestaba lo mismo y me moría de risa entre mis nuevos amigos. Era la Fiesta de la Cerveza Nacional de Argentina, o el Oktoberfest en Villa General Belgrano de la Provincia de Córdoba.

Han pasado casi doce meses desde que llegué a Buenos Aires. En muchas maneras, ha sido un largo año. En ciertos momentos, me sentí aislado y quise volver a casa. Como un extranjero bien en el medio de una de las ciudades más grandes en las Américas, soy un desconocido en una tierra extraña. Llegué sin mucho conocimiento de Argentina, del idioma, y sin niguna idea de cómo los porteños me recibirían.

En cambio, me he divertido tanto, que el año pasó volando. Distinto de cuando llegué, ya puedo conversar con los sudamericanos adecuadamente. Aunque ningún argentino me identificaría como un habitante local, la habilidad de tener charlas más profundas con ellos debe ser uno de los aspectos más satisfactorios de mi viaje aquí.

Tres Morros, Jujuy

En los últimos meses, mientras preferí viajar alegremente más que documentar, he dejado de lado escribir en este blog. Desde que regresé de Brasil en agosto, he viajado a la Provincia de Córdoba por el Octoberfest de Argentina, seguí el sol hacia el norte hasta Salta y Jujuy para contemplar las Salinas Grandes, y subí cerros con tantos colores, que sin duda, Van Gogh hubiera pasado una vida entera interpretando en lienzo estas obras de la naturaleza.

The Hills of Pumamarca, Jujuy/Las Colinas de Pumamarca, Jujuy

La semana pasada, finalmente tuve la oportunidad de conocer Uruguay. No puedo explicar como me siento ahora, pero tengo un sentimiento de alegría y lamento al mismo tiempo. Mientras he tenido casi un año entero para conocer esta parte de América Latina, ya he aprendido tantas cosas sobre ella, que me parece que tengo mucho más para entender y experimentar. Como dije anteriormente, es como que solamente vi un preestreno de un libro que quizás nunca pueda terminar. En unas semanas, voy a marcharme de Argentina con una sensación de melancolía.

Punta del Diablo, Uruguay

En Punta del Diablo en la Banda Oriental, encontré un poco de paz. En ese pueblito tranquilo, estaba el Juancho, el viejo cerca del mar. Todo el día se sentaba al lado de su choza destartalada, la que quería vender por U$S10.000, y hablaba con cualquier persona que quisiera hablar. Estaba la hijita de Juan, el almacenero local, que quería practicar inglés pero sólo sonreía con timidez después de unas palabras, y los pescadores que pescaban cuando quisieran y vendían lo que fuera que el mar les reglaba.

* * *

"CHE!" a group of lads from Rosario called to us for the duration of the night. In those moments, well past soberness and only happy that I had the opportunity to met friends, I simply reciprocated in that most Argentine of greetings and let loose a great laugh amongst my new companions. It was Argentina's National Beer Festival, also known as the Oktoberfest at Villa General Belgrano, Córdoba Province.

Oktoberfest, Villa General Belgran, Córdoba

It has been almost twelve months since I arrived at Buenos Aires. In many ways, it has been a long year. In certain moments, I felt isolated and wanted to go home. As a foreigner in the middle of one of the largest cities in the Americas, I was a stranger in a new land. I arrived without much knowledge of Argentina, of the language, and without any idea how the locals would receive me.

Conversely, I have been enjoying myself so much that the year simply flew by. Unlike when I first arrived, I can now move past the basics and enjoy more profound conversations with South Americans. While no Argentine would make the mistake of thinking me a local, sorting out the communications issue must be one of the most satisfying aspect of my travels here.

The Great Salt Flats/Salinas Grandes

In the past few months, happy to experience rather than document, I have neglected to write in this blog. Since returning from Brazil in August, I have traveled to Córdoba Province for Argentina's Octoberfest, chased the sun north to Salta and Jujuy Provinces to gaze at one of the world's great salt flats, and hiked surging peaks with so many colors that Van Gogh surely could have spent a lifetime duplicating nature's work on canvas.

Last week I finally had the opportunity to explore Uruguay. At this moment I really cannot explain the feelings in my head, a cocktail of happiness and regret at the same time. While I have had almost an entire year to get to know this part of Latin America, and I have learned so much, it feels that I have so much more to see and experience. As I said before, it is like I have only read the jacket of a book that I might never finish. In a few weeks, I will leave Argentina swimming in a sea of melancholy.

Punta del Diablo, Uruguay

In Punta del Diablo, Uruguay, I found a little bit of peace. In this peaceful seaside village, there was the Juancho, literally an old man by the sea. All day he would sit on the side of his broken-down shack, which he would like to sell for US$10,000, and talk with whomever wanted to talk. Then there was the little daughter of Juan, the local grocer, who wanted to practice English, but would only smile shyly after a few words, and the fishermen who fished whenever they wanted and would sell whatever gifts the sea brought them.

Lady, the puppy at El Diablo Tranquilo Hostel/Lady, la cachorra del Diablo Tranquilo Hostel

The small pleasures / Los pequeños placeres

Choripan, a 6 pesos piece of greasy sausage heaven

While Buenos Aires gradually lurches forward to spring and the Northern Hemisphere grows colder by the day, I approach the end of my sojourn in Argentina. Soon it will be December and the time for me to return to the United States.

So each time I venture out into the city, I feel compelled to take stock of my year and enjoy the small pleasures of living in the city of Santa Maria.

* * *

Mientras Buenos Aires alcanza gradualmente la primavera y el Hemisferio del Norte hace más frío cada día, se acerca el fin de mi estadía en Argentina. Dentro de poco deciembre llegará y el momento de regresar a Estados Unidos.

Entonces cada vez que paseo por la ciudad, soy consciente de mi año y disfrutar los pequeños placeres de vivir en la ciudad de Santa María.

Brazil's Gold Trail / El Camino del Oro de Brasil

The namoradeiras of Brazil / Las namoradeiras de Brasil

(Written in August 2009) Up and down the hills I climbed and descended through Ouro Prêto's ancient cobblestone streets, occasionally accompanied by a chorus of church bells. In many ways the mountains and the sky around this Portuguese colonial town reminded me of northern New Mexico.

Every sixty minutes, the Church of Our Lady of Carmen (Nossa Senhora do Carmo), which straddles one of the more prominent hills of the city and overlooks Praça Tiradentes, Ouro Prêto's main town square, would ring in the new hour. But instead of the orderly bells of North American or European cathedrals, those of Ouro Prêto were somehow different - perhaps more spontaneous. Like that of an Indian marching band, with whom each note is more casually and individually articulated but somehow would harmonize to produce music, the bells of Ouro Prêto seemed to celebrate the joie de vivre that is unique only to Brazil.

St. Francis of Assissi Church, Ouro Prêto / La Iglesia de San Francisco de Asís, Ouro Prêto

Just the previous week, I was in Paraty, in Rio de Janeiro State. As the port that transferred Brazil's wealth to Lisbon, Paraty's architecture expressed the exuberance of the colonial Portuguese and their old world masters, but perhaps not the despair of the African slaves who labored this land.

The Paraty Habor / El Puerto de Paraty

* * *

(Escrito agosto 2009) Subía y descendía por los callejónes de adoquínes antiguos de Ouro Prêto, ocasionalmente me acompañaba un coro de las campanas de las iglesias. En muchos sentidos las montañas y el cielo de este pueblo colonial portugués me recordían del norte de Neuvo Mexico.

Tiradentes Square, Ouro Prêto / Plaza Tiradentes, Ouro Prêto

Cada sesenta minutos, la Iglesia de Nuestra Señora del Carmen, la que se sienta una de las colinas del pueblo más prominente y da a Praça Tiradentes, la plaza principal de Ouro Prêto, sonaran en la nueva hora. Pero en vez de las campanas ordenadas de las catedrales norteamericanas o europeas, las de Ouro Prêto eran diferentes por alguna razón – quizás más espontáneas. Como lo de una banda de India, con el que cada nota es expresada individualmente y con más informalidad pero con alguna manera armonizarían para realizar música, las campanas de Ouro Prêto paracía celebrar la única alegría de vivir de Brasil.

Solamente la semana anterior, estaba en Paraty del Estado de Rio de Janeiro. Como el puerto que exportaba la riqueza de Brasil a Lisboa, la arquitectura de Paraty expresaba la exuberancia de los colonos portugueses y sus señores, pero quizás no las desesperaciónes de los esclavos africanos que trabajaban esta tierra.

Captain "Jack Sparrow" of Paraty / El Capitan "Jack Sparrow" de Paraty

Rio de Janeiro

They call her the marvelous city.

While Rio de Janeiro is a city of amazing natural beauty, with the emerald green water of the Guanabara Bay and the ocean forming a striking contrast with the granite hills of the Corcovado and Sugar Loaf, with only three days, I felt like I couldn’t possibly get to know it as I would like to.

Whereas São Paulo is geared towards commerce and seemed more of an international metropolis, with the sound of the waves and the beat of the samba, Rio de Janeiro felt like a beach town. Although Rio was once the only capital of a European country outside of Europe, and was also once the seat of the Brazilian Republic, Cariocas (residents of Rio de Janeiro) carry themselves without pretension and were quick to offer their smiles.

The Santa Teresa Tram / El tranvía de Santa Teresa

But for an afternoon of exploring the Santa Teresa neighborhood via its tram (called the Bondinho or Bonde), I was happy to drink caipirinhas on the beach and whiled away my time in Rio with the pleasures of the sand, the surf, and the sun.

* * *

La llaman la ciudad maravillosa.

Aunque Río de Janeiro es una ciudad de belleza insuperable, con agua verde esmeralda de la Bahía de Guanabara y el mar formando un contraste llamativo con las colinas de granito de Corcovado y Pan de Azúcar, me pareció que con sólo tres días, no pude conocerla como me gustaría.

A bikini vendor on the beach / un vendedor de bikini en la playa

Mientras que San Pablo es una ciudad empresarial y parece una metrópolis internacional, con el sonido de las olas y la zamba, Río parece una ciudad de playa. Aunque Río había sido la única capital de un país europeo afuera de Europa, y una vez también la sede de la República de Brasil, los cariocas (los habitantes de Río de Janeiro) se comportan sin pretensión y me ofrecían sus sonrisas fácilmente.

Pero por una tarde explorando el barrio de Santa Teresa en tranvía (lo llaman “Bondinho” o “Bonde”), me alegré de tomar caipiriñas en la playa y pasé mi estadía en Río con el placer de sentir el sol, las olas, y la arena.

A Santa Teresa neighborhood bar / Un bar del barrio de Santa Teresa

Dusk in Buenos Aires / Atardecer en Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires Tango Festival / Festival de Tango de Buenos Aires

It was the first day of the Buenos Aires Tango Festival and many of the concerts were free. I spent a fine afternoon enjoying the music.

* * *

Fue el primer día del Festival de Tango Buenos Aires y muchos de los conciertos fueron gratuitos. Pasé una linda tarde disfrutando la música.

A few days in São Paulo / Unos días en São Paulo

Rainy rainy São Paulo . . .

Known as "terra da garoa" in Portuguese (land of drizzle), I expected very little from the city. As Brazil's commercial and financial center and the largest metropolis in the Southern Hemisphere with over 11 million in population, negotiating the city's urban jungle was indeed challenging.

Luz Train Station / Estación Luz

When I asked Paulistanos what I must see while in their fair city, many were short on answers. With only three nights and two days in São Paulo, I was content to simply roam aimlessly around the town, stopping at random places to sample Lebanese and Syrian snacks, and to enjoy freshly produced mango, passion fruit, and guava juices.

Moreover, with the largest Japanese community in the world outside of Japan, São Paulo's Liberdade neighborhood satisfied my appetite with some of the best and most affordable sushi and sashimi. Halfway through a meal, I found myself drinking a caipirinha and conversing with a Japanese businessman in a mixture of Spanish and my version of what Portuguese should sound like.

Japanese restaurant in Jardin neighborhood
/ Restaurante Japonés en el barrio Jardin

* * *

São Paulo la ciudad lluviosa . . .

Conocido como "terra da garoa" en Portugués (tierra de llovizna), esperaba muy poco de la ciudad. Como el centro de comercial y financiero de Brasil y la ciudad más grande en el hemisferio sur con más de 11 millones de inhabitantes, efectivamente fue un desfío para conocer el estado salvaje de São Paulo.

Cuando preguntaba a los Paulistanos qué debía conocer mientras estaba en su ciudad, muchos no me podían responder. Con sólo tres noches y dos días en São Paulo, me alegró deembular sin rumbo por la ciudad, deteniéndome al azar para probar unos bocaditos libaneses y sirios, y disfrutar jugos frescos de mango, maracuyá, y guayaba.

Downtown São Paulo / El Centro de São Paulo

Es más, con la comunidad japonesa más grande del mundo afuera de Japón, el barrio Liberdade de São Paulo satisfazo mi apetito con algunos de los mejores y más accesibles tipos de sushi y sashimi. A mitad de la cena, me encontré tomando una caipirinha y conversando con un empresario japonés en una mezcla de castellano y mi versíon de lo que debe sonar, en mi opinion, el portugués.

Rural Exposition 2009 / Exposición Rural 2009

Argentine Gauchos / Gauchos de Argentina

Last Sunday was a brilliantly sunny day and some fresh air was in order after a typically Buenos Aires night out with some of the boys. Argentina's Rural Exposition 2009 happened to be right in the middle of my neighborhood in Palermo, so I popped over with a couple friends to check it out.

* * *

El domingo pasado fue un día soleadísimo y yo necesitaba tomar un poco de aire fresco después de una noche típica de Buenos Aires con algunos los muchachos. La Exposición Rural 2009 de Argentina estaba en bien en medio de Palermo, entonces pasé una tarde con dos amigos para averiguarlo.

Vagando por la Patagonia / Meandering through Patagonia

Últimamente he tenido dificultades para pasar mis pensamientos al papel. No era la escasez de noticias, porque he tenido una sucesión de viajes por la Patagonia. Pero por lo que fuera, quizás me había entorpecido debido a la distancia del tiempo, he sido negligente con mi escritura.

Lago Argentino / Lake Argentino

Por una region tan grande como la Patagonia, mis visitas recientes solo me dejaron deseando más, sintiendo que yo solamente leí los preestrenos de un libro que quizás nunca podré terminar.

La última vez que estuve en la Patagonia en 2001, pasé la mayoría del tiempo en el lado Chileno de los Andes. Mientras el viento cortante de agosto penetraba el mejor equipo de alpinismo tenía, pasé casi una semana haciendo trekking con otros viajeros.

Este junio fue mi segunda vez en El Calafate. Con la excepción de unas de nubes en el cielo de otoño, el vuelo de Aerolineas Argentinas desde Buenos Aires aterrizó en medio de un día despejadísimo.

La Ruta 40 en la Patagonia / Route 40 in the Patagonia

Aunque ya había visto el Glaciar Perito Moreno hacía siete años, estaba exactamente tan hipnotizado esta vez, como la primera. Algunos sitios tienen ese efecto conmigo, las siluetas de los edificios de Manhattan, Sierra Nevada en California, las cimas de los Andes, las cataratas de Iguazú, y el Pacífico, etc. Sin embargo, lo que realmente quería hacer era dejar la comodidad del hostel y salir hacia las montañas con mi mochila.

Como una dama gris que no podia detener sus lágrimas, el cielo de Río Negro llovió durante mi toda estancia en Bariloche. Entonces, en vez de lo que ví en las fotos de los lagos turquesa y verde, el Lago Nahuel Huapi y sus lagos hermanos fueron simplemente una reflexión de un cielo malhumorado. Repelido por la tormenta después de tanto días debajo de la lluvia, me retiré a la compaña de otros viajeros.

Lago Nahuel Huapi cerca de Bariloche / Lake Nahuel Huapi near Bariloche

* * *

Lately I have been finding it difficult to put my thoughts down in ink. It's not for a lack of material, for I have had a series of travels through the Patagonia. But for whatever reason, perhaps the distance of time had dulled my mind, I have been neglectful about my writing.

For a region as large as the Patagonia, my recent visits only left me desiring for more, feeling like I only read the previews to a book I might never finish.

The last time I was in the Patagonia in 2001, I passed most of my time on the Chilean side of the Andes. While the biting August wind penetrated the best mountaineering equipment I had to offer, I spent almost a whole week trekking with other travelers.

El Glaciar Perito Moreno / Perito Moreno Glacier

This June was my second time in El Calafate. With the exception of a few puffs of clouds in the autumn sky, The Aerolineas Argentinas flight from Buenos Aires landed amidst a spectacularly clear day.

Although I have seen the Perito Moreno Glacier seven years before, I was just as mesmerized by it this time. Some sights just have that effect on me, the Manhattan skyline, the Sierra Nevadas in California, the peaks of the Andes, the Iguazú Falls, and the Pacific Ocean, etc. However, what I really wanted to do was to leave the comfort of the heated hostel and step into the mountains with my rucksack.

Like a gray lady who couldn't stop her tears, the Río Negro provincial sky rained during my entire sojourn in Bariloche. Instead of the torquoise and green colored lakes of photos I saw, Lake Nahuel Huapi and her sister were a mere reflection of the moody sky. Beaten back by the storm after a day of hiking in the rain, I retreated to the fellowship of other travelers.

Parque Nacional Nahuel Huapi / Nahuel Huapi National Park

San Telmo

Todos los domingos en San Telmo, el barrio más antiguo en Buenos Aires, es la sede de una feria en las calles, atrayendo turistas, Porteños, los buscardores de tesoros, y los artistas callejeros que quieren aprovechar de la multitud de visitantes. Sin embargo, sencillamente me gusta pasear por el barrio y disfrutar la música de las calles.

* * *

Every Sunday in San Telmo, Buenos Aires' oldest neighborhood, puts on a big antique market, attracting tourists, locals, treasure hunters, and street artists seeking to profit from the throngs of visitors. However, I simply like to walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the street music.

Obras sociales sexy / Sexy health plans

Ya que mi seguro de viaje va a vencer en el fin de junio, estoy buscando una buen obra social mientras viviendo en Argentina. Otro día yo pasé este anuncio en Palermo Soho. En efecto, manteniendo la salud de uno podría ser sexy!

* * *

Since my travel insurance will expire at the end of June, I'm currently looking for a good health plan while I am still living in Argentina. The other day I passed by this advertisement in Palermo Soho. Indeed, maintaining one's health could be sexy.

The thief of souls / El ladrón de las almas

"Club Atlético Boca Juniors (C.A.B.J.), thief of body, soul and heart.
You became my mad obsession."

It was my first Boca Juniors match at La Bombonera (the Chocolate Box). To say that football is a national obsession in Argentina would be an understatement.

* * *

Fue mi primer partido de Boca Juniors en La Bombonera. Decir que el fútbol es una obsesión nacional de Argentina sería quedarse corto.

I don't want dengue fever.../No quiero dengue...

View of the falls from the Lower Trail/Vista de las cataratas de Paseo Inferior

So I was told to beware of dengue fever in the North of Argentina, for the mosquitos there are especially fierce and may transmit the dreaded disease. But nonetheless, Iguazú is a bloody big waterfall and I badly wanted to see it.

Traveling with mother is a little different than going solo. On me own I tend to move on a whim. I awake when I want to, eat and drink what and when I desire, and tend to make last minute decisions to jump on a bus, train, or plane to satisfy random curiosities. Such is the life of a solo male traveler.

The evil birds that tried to steal my lunch/
Los pájaros malvados que intentaba robar mi almuerzo

With mother, the decision-making process was more laborious, but rewarding in different ways. In this case, our accommodations were more luxurious but the schedule more structured. But I did not have the opportunity to socialize with other travelers or locals. However, the most important thing was I got to travel with mother while she is still active enough to do so.

Puerto Iguazú, a Northern Argentine frontier town separated from Paraguay and Brazil by the River Iguazú, was fairly low-key as tourist towns go. Outside of the immediate areas of the Iguazú National Park and the town's bus stations, the local denizens are desperately poor and the environment a world apart from the cosmopolitan Argentine capital. Further, perhaps due to the town's location as an international crossroad, the Argentine Gendarmes were out in force at every street corner, directing traffic and stopping buses to question travelers.


Originally founded in 1610 in present day Brazil, the San Ignacio Reduction relocated to its current location in 1696. Far from my youthful fancies of Indiana Jones-like discoveries, I reached the Jesuit ruins by a 5 hour bus ride from Puerto Iguazú, stayed at the Adventure Hostel and ordered take-out pizza. Perhaps because it was low season, but for a small dog who followed us for two hours through the ruins, mother and I got to experience the Guaraní baroque grandeur of San Ignacio Miní in splendid isolation.

* * *

Me dijeron que debería tener cuidado con el dengue en el norte de Argentina, ya que los mosquitos allá son especialmente fieros y podrían contagiar la enfermedad temida. Sin embargo, Las Cataratas Iguazú es un sitio famoso y realmente lo quería ver.

Viajando con mi mamá es un poco diferente a mis viajes solos. En esos casos yo suelo despertarme y viajar cuando quiera, comer y tomar lo que desee. Esa es la vida de un viajero solo.

Pero cuando con mi mamá, el proceso para tomar una decisión es más laborioso, pero gratificante en formas distintas. En este caso, neustro alojamiento era más lujoso pero el plan más estructurado. Pero no tuve la oportunidad de conocer a otros viajeros y a la gente local. Sin embargo, lo más importante fue poder viajar con mi mamá mientras ella puede hacerlo todavía.

The Devil's Throat/La Garganta del Diablo

Puerto Iguazú, un pueblo en la frontera que está separado de Paraguay y Brasil por el Río Iguazú, era muy tranquilo. Afuera de los distritos inmediatamente de las cataratas y la terminal ómnibus, las habitantes locales son desesperademente pobre y estan en otro mundo fuera de la capital federal cosmopolita. Además, quizás por la ubicación en la frontera, había agentes de la Gendarmería Nacional Argentina en cada esquina, dirigiendo los coches y deteniendo los colectivos para interrogar a los viajeros.

The San Ignacio Mission's Catherdral/El Catedral de San Ignacio

Originariamente establecido en 1610 en lo que ahora es Brasil, la reducción de San Ignacio se instaló en su sitio actual en 1696. Lejos de mi fantasia juvenil de Indiana Jones, llegué a las ruinas jesuitas con un colectivo que tardó 5 horas, pasé la noche en el Adventure Hostel, y pedí una pizza para llevar. Tal vez porque era temprada baja, con la excepción de un perrito que nos acompañó por dos horas en las ruinas, pudimos conocer la grandiosidad barroca de los Guaranís en un aisiamiento espléndido.

Los Buenmozos de Boulogne

The chants started as soon as I exited the San Isidro train station. In Buenos Aires, the rugby derby doesn't come any bigger than the rivalry between San Isidro Club (SIC) and Club Atlético San Isidro (CASI). I found the CASI stadium by simply following the boys of Los Buenmozos de Boulogne (the "Good-looking ones from Boulogne"), SIC's supporter club.

Rather unlike the United States, where ruggers play on muddy municipally owned fields, the grounds at CASI was immaculate and the atmosphere electric. But since a friend was a former SIC player, I had my bias for the night and happily cheered for the winning side.

* * *

Las canciónes comenzaron inmediatamente después de salir de Estación San Isidro. En Buenos Aires, no hay rivalidad de rugby más importante que el clásico entre San Isidro Club (SIC) y Club Atlético San Isidro (CASI). Hallé estadio de CASI con Los Buenmozos de Boulogne, los hinchas de SIC.

Más que las canchas de rugby en EE.UU, donde los jugadores competen en el barro frecuentemente, las instalaciones deportivas de CASI era impecable y el ambiente eletrizante. Pero ya que tengo un amigo que jugaba para SIC, tenía mi prejuicio y alegremente vitoreaba para el equipo que ganó.

A gentleman in search of . . . / Un señor quiere conocer . . .

Every time I take the 29 bus from Palermo to San Telmo I see this sign at the bus stop at the corner of Paraguay and Sanchez de Bustamante. The gentleman in question wants to meet girls, ladies, or Paraguayans (female). It seems to me that to him, Paraguayan women are not in the girl or lady category.

The sign says:

I wish to meet unattached single girls, ladies, Paraguayan women, to start a respectful and humble relationship. I am a single and available 48 years old gentleman. I live in Palermo at Bulnes and Soler.

Nacho

* * *

Cada vez tomo el colectivo 29 de Palermo a San Telmo yo veo este cartel en la parada en la esquina de Paraguay y Sanchez de Bustamente. El señor que lo ha publicado quiere conocer chicas, señoras, o paraguayas. Me parece que para él, las paraguayas no estan en la categoría de la chica o la señora.

El cartel dice:

Deseo conocer chicas, señoras, paraguayas, sin compromisos, solas, para iniciar una relación de amistad seria y con mucho respecto y humildad. Soy un señor de 48 años, solo, libre.

Vivo en Palermo. Bulnes y Soler.

Nacho

Autumn arrives / Llegó otoño

The autumn weather is finally setting in here at Buenos Aires. The long promised rain is here and the temperature went from the low 20'sº C last week to below 15º C today. The weather is definitely changing but to me it's far from cold. Looking at how the Porteños are dressed one would think we're living in Tierra del Fuego.

But everything is relative. I remember visiting my parents in Taipei during Christmas and was amazed that pedestrians were wearing wool winter coats in 20º C climate.

Tomorrow mother is coming to visit for a month. Frankly I'm not sure how we're going to spend one month together in a 20 square meter apartment. But I am excited about her visit and want to show her Argentina.

No Spanish classes in May since my teacher is on vacation. So in an effort to improve I'm reading more, meeting more Porteños for language exchanges, and am going to start blogging in Spanish as well. After four months of learning the language I hope that I am at least coherent.

Please correct my Spanish if you wish.

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Llegó el clima de otoño a Buenos Aires. La lluvia prometida esta aquí y la temperatura bajó de más o menos 20º C la última semana a abajo 15º C hoy. Sin duda el tiempo está cambiando pero puedo opinar que no está haciendo frío. Mire a las ropas de los porteños parece estamos en Tierra del Fuego.

Pero todo es relativo. Recuerdo una visita a mis papás en Taipei durante la época de la Navidad y me asombré que la gente en las calles usaba los abrigos de invierno durante el clima de 20º C.

Mañana mi mamá va a llegar a Buenos Aires por un mes. Francamente yo no soy seguro como vamos a pasar un mes juntos en mi departamento de 20 metro cuadrado. Pero me entusiasmo de su visita y le quiero mostrar Argentina.

No hay las clases de castellano en mayo porque mi profesora tiene vacacciones. Entonces en un esfuerzo para mejorar mi castellano estoy leyendo más, conociendo otros porteños por los intercambios del idioma, y empenzé escribir este blog en castellano también. Después de cuatro meces de aprender este lengua, espero que estoy por lo menos coherente.

Por favo, corrija mi castellan si lo desee.

A Yankee key

Since my mother is visiting me in Buenos Aires this week, I went around the neighborhood to get an extra set of door keys made. However, every locksmith I visited gave me a blank look after they saw one of the keys I wanted to reproduce.

"What's this?" locksmith X, Y, and Z all asked.

"My door key," I would reply.

All told me they don't have the key I wanted and probably nobody in Buenos Aires does.

Finally, the fourth locksmith I visited told me I have a yankee key, that he doesn't have it either, and asked me why I'm doing with such a key.

Around the block

Steakhouse across the street

Buenos Aires is full of lovely architecture. Wander around the city center or just around the block from my apartment, one simply has to look up to see alluring artwork.

House across the street

However, I don't live in one of them.

Chez Ted

Delivery service in BsAs

I ordered food for delivery for the first time since I got to Buenos Aires. I haven't ordered home because it is so convenient to just go downstairs to pick up whatever I want. Within a couple blocks I have supermarkets, convenient stores, pizzerias, empanada shops, steakhouses and other restaurants, and even a couple 24 hour alcohol delivery services.

But, I also haven't called for delivery because of the language issue. Face-to-face I can communicate and sort things out. Rapid fire Spanish over the phone isn't my strength yet. But tonight, I figured what the heck and called.

Buenos Aires is a town where one can get many items delivered. Food, booze, ice cream, and others (use your imagination). I have seen delivery boys/girls on bikes or roller blades, pizza or ice cream in one hand and the mobile phone pressed to their ears, weaving in and out of traffic . . .

Tigre and San Isidro

Yesterday I woke up really early for some reason and couldn't fall back asleep. As a result I finished my studies by mid afternoon and decided to take some time to explore two cities north of Buenos Aires.

Tigre is a tranquil town away from the hustle and bustle of BsAs. It is on the northern edge of the metropolitan area and water taxis are the main form of transportation for many who live or visit there.

On the way back to Buenos Aires I hopped off the train and stopped in San Isidro, a wealthy suburb and the heart of rugby football in Buenos Aires. I didn't see the Rugby Museum but simply walked around the compact historical area before catching the train back into town.

Transportation is cheap and easy. The Mitre Line, which originates from Retiro Train Station in downtown Buenos Aires, was less than AR$1. The Tren de la Costa, which is more pleasant but requires a connection at either Maipú or Libertador Station, is AR$12 one way (or AR$24 roundtrip).

For a few more photos see the slideshow below.

Patiperro: Travels in Chile during March 2009

"Why did you lie?" the rather attractive Chilean Customs agent asked. Being the good friend that I am, I squarely pointed my finger at my friend and cried "he did it. He brought the apple into Chile!"

The sign said I can be fined 1 million Chilean Pesos (or is it 10 million Pesos?) for bringing agricultural products into Chile. Even at 609 pesos to US$1, it is more than what I had in my wallet.

At 2,250 meters high, Paso Los Libertadores is a major border crossing between Chile and Argentina. At that altitude, even during late summer, I was shivering cold while standing around explaining myself to Chilean Customs.

It has been since 2002 when I was in Chile. Last time I was here, it was a 36 hour affair for a friend's wedding. Chile was my first introduction to South America and this narrow strip of land between the Pacific Ocean and the Andes Mountains has a special place in my heart.

After a couple months of learning Argentine Spanish, the language in Chile seemed vastly different. Santiagueños (residents of Santiago) talk fast and chop their words into bits. It is something akin to talking to an Australian. It's not breakfast . . . it's a brekkie!

A friend called Santiago "Sanhattan." As the country's largest
city and capital, Santiago is also Chile's financial center.

"Super bien!" Monica at Ají Hostel said to me as we checked in.

So much for all the Spanish superlatives I've been learning. It reminded me of all the hours I spent in high school studying German words like "wunderbar," only to hear "super!" when I traveled in Germany.

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In Chilean slang, a patiperro is a globetrotter, or one who travels often.

Santiago's proximity to sunny sandy beaches on the Pacific Ocean was one of the reasons J. and I decided to cross into Chile rather than striking north to Salta in the Argentine Northwest.

Another reason was seafood; Chile is blessed with fresh blue water fish and crustaceans. So in less than 14 days' time, J. and I have crossed the Río de la Plata into Uruguay, biked and drank wine in Argentina's Mendoza Province, traversed the Andes Mountain to see a friend in Santiago, drank pisco sour in the cafés and bars of colorful and moody Valparaiso, and idled away on the beaches of Viña del Mar.

Cerro Bellavista, Valparaiso, Chile

Formerly serving as the first major port after westbound ships from Europe and the American East Coast rounded Cape Horn, Valparaiso took in the world's immigrants, sailors, and whalers. Literally, the city's name means Valle Paraiso, or Paradise Valley.

A Valparaiso Coca Cola Driver striking a pose

This hilly city by the ocean prospered during the late 19th and early 20th century as trade with the Pacific Coast increased and gold prospectors stopped here for provisions on their way to California and Alaska. However, since the Panama Canal and the Port of San Antonio (Chile) superceded Valparaiso's commercial importance, the city reinvented itself as one of Chile's main cultural centers.

Pablo Neruda, the famed Chilean poet and communist, made Valparaiso and the nearby fishing village of Isla Negra his home. The Chilean Admiralty is also based here and UNESCO, the United Nations cultural agency, named the entire city a world heritage site. Centered around the port, neighborhoods grew out of the surrounding steep hills and residents, who are also called Porteños, still use the city's funiculars as transportation.

The hills of Valparaiso

In honor of Mr. Neduda, I guess it is fitting I got into an argument with a French communist barmaid.