Megan's Visit

I'm BACK!!!!!!!
Sorry I've been absent, I know Josh's posting frequency this week has been shocking, but hold on to your pants, and I hope you didn't miss me too much. Forgive me, I've been busy!
It only took six months, but finally a friend came to visit. Don't get me wrong family! Your visits were equally as amazing, equally as appreciated, but it meant a lot to have a friend come all the way from the States and taking a whole week off from work to boot!
Megan arrived two Friday's ago after a two hour delay in Miami. After she took a very fast shower and I shoved some empanadas down her throat we headed over to Retiro (my favorite barrio...not) to meet up with Dan Cowel at the Estastion de Omnibus. After a brief encounter with our friends Mike and Kyla (totally convincing Meg that we are popular enough to run into people, maybe a little misleading) we boarded our bus and began the long journey to Puerto Iguazu. 17 hours is a long time to spend on a bus, and even longer if you've just traveled from DC, but as the bus rolled out we treated Meg to her first taste of the Yerba, and gave her a lesson in Maté. Even better was the snack of Alfahores that was passed out a few hours into our trip. I love Via Bariloche!

Pretending I'm really good at preparing the Maté

Very good initial reaction, even if a bit faked for our sakes
(my Mom and Mia's actual reaction to Maté looked...exactly like this and they weren't faking!)

She's a natural...she loves it!

So I know Josh wrote an epic blog post that took him three days so I won't review the details of our trip, but here are a few of my photos from the short time we remained in Missiones:

Warning sign for dangerous animals!!

That's a lot of water

A sign made just for me!

Megan, a rainbow, and some kick ass water falls

Wandering the lovely paths of Missiones

Josh at the Devil's Throat!!! (Sounds cooler is Spanish, I promise)

In which I figure out how to use my camera

Josh and Dan

Meg and me!

Josh and me...I think you all recognize us by now though...

Parilla with the best Asado Tirado EVER!! and also where I swear I won't over eat and then proceeded to over eat to the point of being sick...It goes without saying that we danced all night, and then I ate ice cream and a hamburger. Yes, I am on a small diet that started today, after I stuffed myself with Choripan at Diego's last night. I swear my heart was crying after. But for real this time...I'm going to eat healthy starting today!

Tres Fronteres from the left: Paraguay, Brazil, and Argentina. Unfortunately the US has a silly policy where they charge people from South America extraordinary amounts of money to enter our country if they let them at all, so countries like Brazil have fought back...I don't think I'll ever be paying the US$130 you need to shell out to get there...so this might be as close as we'll come to Rio for a long time.

We arrived in Buenos Aires late on Monday, and finally got back to our house around 2. Megan was incredulous as to how the bus terminal can schedule a million buses to come back at the same time. Amazing that in just six months I've come to accept things like this as common place and expect them. Oh Argentina...sigh.
Anyway, so we proceeded to have a relaxed week where we saw some nice stuff all over the city, enjoyed beautiful weather, and ate like cows were going extinct.
We saw the Buddy Bears in their last week in BA. These bears are traveling around the world to promote peace. There is one from every country, and for some reason Einstein gets his own bear...random:

Ours was disappointingly boring compared to say...Egypt:

And way boring compared to this guy:

We also hit up the Recoleta Cemetary, and of course had a picnic in the Botanical Gardens. Mmm, milanesa and Quilmes, a match made in heaven.

Sharing the life force (Quilmes) with Meg and half liter bottles, so classy!

So those are all the photos I have, when Meg sends me some of hers I will post them as well, but we certainly had a good time. We hosted our best Asado yet on Friday night in honor of her despedida, and then hit up a few bars. The only thing to disappoint was that we stayed up all night on Friday only to emerge from the club into the poring rain at 6 am. Needless to say, there was no sunrise. Que lastima (I'm totally quizzing you, who remembers this phrase from Josh's last post?). Anyway, I was very sad to see her go, and after she left I consoled myself by eating even more meat that night at Jeremy's asado. Having Meg here made me miss my friends from home, and made me miss being with people who've known me for longer than six months. I love my friends here, and can't wait till we get to that point, but it was so refreshing to reminisce with her as we created new memories. At the same time it was some what strange to hear all about her life and the lives of my friends at home. I felt so disconnected from that world of 9-5, happy hour, dating, and 401Ks, and farther away from my friends than ever before. At the same time though, I was relived to know that this disconnect doesn't have the same affect on friendships, and came away from the week very happy that our friendship has remained stronger than ever even after all this time and physical distance. We joked and planned for the future. Moving to California together may not be as likely to happen as me visiting her in DC this winter (or your summer), but its fun to dream. To all my friends at home who I haven't kept in touch with very well, know that I'm thinking about you too!!!
But now its back to real life, but more importantly back to recovery. I am still exhausted from her visit, as I imagine she is. I plan on spending the rest of the week attempting to catch up on sleep, and of course watch lots of The Wire.

The Land Before Time XIX: The Adventure at Iguazú Falls

The titles may not match, but the scenery looks quite similar

I pose you all a question: what would inspire you to travel from St. Louis to Boston, by bus, only to return just one and a half days later, no matter how nice the bus may be? 19 hours, each way, for a less than 36 hours of fun? We answered that question for ourselves before we departed Buenos Aires for Puerto Iguazú last Friday, confident that our bus-residency would pay off in a wealth of incredible experiences. Before I even arrived in Buenos Aires, one of my friends from home advised me that I could not leave Argentina without seeing Iguazú Falls, so I had been looking forward to this opportunity for almost a year. Julia, as I'm guessing she will mention in the second half our this two part coverage, had also been excited at the prospect of sitting for nearly one day to see some waterfalls. We were joined by two other characters: Dan, who we met here but knows our previous guest and steadfast blog follower, Alex, from Chicago; and Megan from GW, who had arrived but a few hours earlier after traveling umpteen hours from Washington DC. Megan provided the impetus for making the trek up north and Dan jumped at the opportunity to see the mammoth falls that straddle the Argentina-Brazil border, so the four of us embarked on an epic journey with a thermos of hot water, a tin of yerba de maté, some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (gracias a Megan for the PB), plenty of sunscreen (or, as Julia now calls it after hangi ng around Jessica so much, suncream), and a whole lot of excitement.

Besides giving me time to get to know Dan better, eat some wondefully mediocre bus food (which, along with plane food, is an admitted guilty pleasure of Dan and myself - what can I say, I'm a sucker for mystery meat cubes, lasagna filled with highly processed cheese, and miniature apple tarts), and catch up on podcasts, the bus also gave me the opportunity to catch up on some spectacular international cinema: The Transporter 3. You can see from the trailer that this movie has everything: an unattractive female lead who is supposed to be smoking hot, a car that can balance on two wheels while speeding between tractor-trailer trucks, glib retorts to equally glib ultimatums, and Jason Statham with his shirt off. All signs pointed towards this being a must miss, and it most definitely didn't disappoint. Yet, like bus and plane food, it was strangely entertaining and I watched the whole thing, even though I had just watched a really good movie in The Green Mile beforehand. All in all, it was a fantastic afternoon and early evening of movies, and I fell asleep with the assurance that I would wake up to the reincarnation of Eden, just with tourists.

Multiple stops and 7 hours later, I woke up in the meat cooler known as a Via Bariloche bus just outside of Puerto Iguazú, the nearest city to the park. As advertised, our hostel was within blocks of the bus station and many restaurants and boliches. In fact, it was just 50 meters or so from the very boliche in which Nick suggested we dance the night away, Cuba Libre. For those of you who don't know, Cuba Libre has two meanings: the literal meaning is "Cuba Free", which was represented by an illustrated Cuban flag dissipating as it reached it's end. Cuba Libre is also the name of a popular cocktail known as a "Rum and Coke" in English speaking countries. I love clubs whose names are double entendres. Forgive me, I digress. So we got into the city at 8am and got to the park by 10am, ready to spend a day walking in wonder, pulling along our jaws dragging along the ground behind us. Our lovely hostel conci erage Richard helped arrange a Nautical Adventure (see picture to the left), which consisted of getting in a boat and subjecting ourselves to hundreds of gallons of cascading water, which was a welcome repose after walking around for a few hours with the subtropical sun bearing down on us. After tackling the entire upper circuit, a system of paths and platforms that exposed us to the falls from a higher vantage point, and most of the lower circuit, which included smaller falls, plenty of walking along the river and through the woods, and views from below some of the bigger falls, a massive shower of cool water sounded great. We got dumped on be some pretty magnificent falls, one of them being the gigantic San Martín Falls (see picture below left) that dominates of side of the park. Our boat did not go directly under this fall as it did with a smaller one, but we definitely felt strong gusts of water-saturated air from where the falling water met the river. Three times. By the end of the boat ride we were all thoroughly soaked and clapping in appreciation of our noble, raingear wearing conductor, annou ncer, and cameraman. The maze-like portion of our adventure ended with an incredible view of the Bossetti Falls, which sported a permanent rainbow thanks to the mist spraying off it, and a bagged lunch in at the outdoor food vendor.

By now, we are all too used to pigeons harassing us whenever we eat outside. The pigeons in this city are unusually dirty and cheeky, showing less fear than any city pigeon that I've ever known. We've actually bumped into the on several occasions without intending to. At the National Park, we encountered an entirely different yet equally annoying monster: the coati. These raccoon, aardvark, squirrel, rat like creatures initially made me saw "aww" when we witnessed a clan of coatíes crossing the railroad tracks for the train that brings you to La Garganta del Diablo (The Devil's Thr oat - much more on that later). They are quite furry and awkward looking, which obviously tugs at the heart strings. To boot, many of them looked like babies, another endearing trait of

animals (I mean seriously, who hates puppies? Kittens? Baby pandas?). More than anything, I thought that we were observing a wild creatures interacting with the man made world imposed up them, a romantic notion influenced by our jungle like surroundings. It didn't take me very long to tell myself I should have known better - these cute, cuddly coatíes were merely furry, earthbound pigeons unfazed by humans. They would approach people eating their lunches outside looking for morsels to munch on, never appearing to be threatening, just very annoying. In spite of the many signs advising otherwise, people continued to feed these beggars their scraps of food, probably thanks to the novelty of having a "wild" animal eat from their hands. Fortunately for us, we were in a less than desirable position (directly in the sun) so they refrained from badgering us too much.

We emerged from our lunch break dried, full of PB & J, rested, and sick of coatíes and proceeded to head back up the path towards the mini-train that would bring us to the grand finale of our day: La Garganta del Diablo. We disembarked the train and walked a kilometer of elevated steel walkways that passed over part of the river that feeds into the mighty falls. After baking on the unshaded metal, we began to hear the thunderous rush of water plunging into the gorge just ahead of us. The first glimpse we got was the initial cascades from the riverbed to the final descent, with a thick mist extending to its left. Slowly but surely, the sound level increased as the temperature cooled, building the kind of true suspense and excitement Jerry Bruckheimer only dreams could. We finally reached the viewing platform that resided just above the right extreme of La Garganta and we were speechless. A concave wall of water nearly a football field-tall and even more wide lay before us, hundreds of thousands of gallons of water per second plummeting to the river below. Certain portions looked more green than blue or white before falling, surely thanks to the vegetation suffering the pulverizing force of the water's rage. To it's side were smaller yet still impressive falls, also reflecting the green surface beneath them but eventually turning to a frothy white as they fell towards the river. Not to sound cliche (and for what it's worth, my editor [read: I] decided to cut out a whole tangent about cliches and how we use them and their worth, or lack there of, in communication. So you're welcome for not wasting a few minutes of your prescious time), but to be in the presence of such natural power and beauty is a humbling experience, one that makes you feel even more diminutive than you may be. An equally cliched sentiment commonly expressed is that such majestic sights inspire a sense of surreality, that you cannot believe that you are where you are, seeing what you're seeing, and I had the exact opposite experience. It was one of those times when I really felt in the moment, taking in every detail in case I never got the experience again. Unlike other impressive beauties, La Garganta del Diablo is a mulit-sensory experience. As I took in the massive falls with my eyes, focusing in on a single drop and trying to follow it on its rapid descent, I could taste the fresh water since my mouth was open in amazement, goosebumps rose on my bronzing skin thanks to the steady, cool mist bombarding me, even though the sun shone down with great intensity, and the churning of the water impeded conversation at a normal volume. The view of the falls is what I will remember most, for sure, but I'll never forget the full body experience of it. This sight, and the whole park in general, definitely ranks in the top 10, maybe even top 5, of my lifetime experiences, and I only hope that I can continue to make each spot in those lists at competitive as possible by being witness to and taking part in such magnificent wonders.

An hour later we were back in our hostel, napping in a dark room with 8 beds, completely exhausted from our day of walking and previous night of non-horizontal sleep. Dan and I went on a mini excursion for empanadas and a possible spot for dinner that night, and we found a splendid outdoor parilla that served up some delicious asado de tira and vacío, which we devoured without hesistation. (Note: As I write this last section, I am mentally preparing myself for an asado on our roof this evening. We are spoiling Megan, as future blog posts will surely indicate.) It was a fine first example of Argentinian beef for Megan, and we followed one good first with another by hitting up Cuba Libre until 5:00 AM or so. Thanks to Dan for keeping up our Saturday night custom of drinking sweet, bubbly wine at bars, we really appreciated it, even if the tradition will die tomorrow night. We ended our evening at the ice cream shop across the street which sold cones at an unheard of price of 2 pesos for one scoop (Puerto Iguazú, I love you) and the hamburger stand close by. I did not indulge in one, but as pictures will show, Julia did so without shame.

We woke up the next morning and headed out to the Tres Fronteras, or corner of the city where you find yourself at the crux of three borders: Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil (see picture below: Argentina in the foreground, Paraguay to the left, Brazil to the right). It was pleasant and relaxing, even if our tereré did not work out as well as we could have hoped on such a hot day. The aforementioned Richard suggested we take the scenic route along the river back to the hostel, and it was the one time it may have been wise to not listen to him. Besides some mildly interesting wall art at one point of our walk, we basically saw a lot of the same side of Brazil (so many trees), had little shade to walk in, and ended up having to ascend a steep hill to make our way back into the town. It was definitely more physical activity than I was ready for, but kept going because in the back of my mind I knew I would soon have the luxury of sleeping on our Super Cama bus back home. One of the selling points of traveling so long for so little time was the prospect of riding back to Buenos Aires in style, well rested and revived from our tiring weekend. Even better, since we were sitting on the bottom of the bus, we paid 30 pesos less than the top of the bus! All around, it seemed like a stellar deal and we couldn't wait to lay back and relax...for 20 hours. We patiently waiting at the bus station as 2 other Via Bariloche buses pulled in and subsequently left (there were buses at 3:05, 3:12, and 3:20...very strange), and finally hopped on the last one. We were correct in that our discount was definitely because we were sitting on the bottom floor. What we didn't expect was that the bottom floor would NOT be Super Cama, but regular Cama instead. Granted, the seats were slightly bigger than our trip to Iguazú, but they were not the fully reclining, plush seats we had hoped for. We were genuinely disappointed with our bad fortune, but quickly got over it and settled into a deep sleep until early evening. And after inhaling another deliciously bad bus-dinner, we had both sleeping pills and one of Robin Williams' finest to put us to sleep and we awoke the next morning back in Buenos Aires, albeit 2 and a half hours late.

So looking back, especially after our failed bus expectations, was it worth it? Was it all it was cracked up to be, worthy of being one of the New 7 Wonders of the World? Without a doubt. It did not look markedly different than in pictures, but seeing it in person was an absolute thrill, and I urge anyone who has the chance or ganas (will) to get there to do so, you will not regret it, I assure you. I'm not saying I would do the same trip under the same time restraints next weekend, but I would love to get back up there at some point, time and money permitting. Despite the fact that I was surrounded by other tourists doing the same thing as I was, I still felt I had a very unique, personal experience with the falls, and my senses are still tingling from it.


Here are some additional pictures that I could not skillfully integrate into the text of the post. Feast your eyes on these beauties and try not to drool all over your keyboard. Double click on the photos if you want a larger view, I accidentally imported the pictures on Julia's computer since mine (bless her soul) no longer uploads pictures or supports attachments.
Have a great weekend!

One especially fat Coatié.

At the "Dos Hermanas" Falls, or Two Sisters. Julia just wondering where her's is...

San Martín Falls

The first waterfall that we went under and got us all wet.

First views of Garganta

A view from the Garganta platform into the gorge.

Julia at Garganta

La Garganta del Diablo from the other side of the park.

Our brave travelers on their way to the boat.


Add butterflies and rainbows to the list of things everyone loves.


The majority of the Argentinian side during our
boat adventure - another Land Before Time shot.

Pesach Seder: Argentine Style

Happy Passover everyone!!! So Josh and I have been going to Kabbalat Shabbat services in Belgrano, but we really have not found ourselves a Jewish community here. When our first batch of study abroad friends departed (still tears over that - we haven't forgotten you!) so departed our only Jewish friend. We have done Shabbat type stuff in our house with our new roomates, and they love Hallah, but I wasn't about to do the back breakng work it take to make a seder for a bunch of goyim. No, for passover we needed to be with some Jews, and considering that Passover is one of my favorite holidays I had ganas to find a sedar we could attend. Well apparently not that much since I waited till erov Pesach to email our one Jewish conection here (You may remember Ernesto, the Jewish tour guide). he emailed me back with a flyer for a community seder, and I called to reserve two spots for Josh and myself. Yes, my Spanish is good enough to do this over the phone now, but not good enough to keep me from annoying the hell out of the receptionist.
Yesterday was a holiday (as is today) and we spend a good part of the day in Parque Lazamas kicking a soccer ball around and drinking Mate with Nick and Jessica. We missed Ted...but had a good time. We then headed home quickly to change and then everyone headed to Nicks while I continued on to the synagogue to pick up our tickets. A woman with hair the color of pumkin and magenta's love child greeting me and gave me the tickets. While there I also caught a glimpse of our seder to be, and then headed back to Nick's new pad for an hour of hang out time. Shout out to Nick's new pad for being the sweetest apartment in BA I've seen so far, in the best location ever...you are one lucky son of a...madre.
We arrived at eight, but of course the seder didn't start till almost an hour later. In the mean while we met some families from the States who were visiting their kids abroad and a gay couple from California. We were not put at their table though, and instead ended up at a table with two divorces who are now best friends, and a family consisting of Mom, Dad, daughter, Grandma, and Grandpa. Of course everyone wanted to practice their English as soon as they heard we were from the States, so we spent most of the night listening to broken Enlgish and speaking in Spanish. The seder was long, the cantor went on and on, and we were soooo hungry. The crowd was mostly old people, so when they read it took forever, and the rest of the people were a mix of families with young kids.
When we finally ate the food was ok, but by the end of the meal we were invited to our first Porteño Shabbat dinner!!!!! It wasn't the same as with family, but it was better than nothing and finally making some Jewish connections is very exciting!!!!!

Ted's Despedidia

Despedidia, a party in celebration of a person you know who is leaving...

I've attended these parties before, but never the party of someone so beloved as Ted Vander-Linden. He was a beloved friend, housemate, drinking buddy, and schoolmate to me, and one of the first people I met in this crazy country. Wait, he's not dieing, he's just going back to the states! So we celebrated him...
the night in pictures:

The boys wait for the bus together...for possibly the last time

Me and my hairdresser/roommate/friend/Spanish teacher/cooking teacher Gabi

The whole gang is together, even if we're not all in the photo
from left to right: Mike, Ted, Jessica, Jeremy, Me, Santi

We arrive at Living, a bar meant to be like your living room but so much cooler. Erin's friend had the good fortune to visit while this night was happening

Mi rey

Ulises con Josh

And the dancing begins. 90's throw backs!! No news here, its all we listen to when Ulises is playing DJ at home...but at least we know all the words!

And then I am suddenly accosted by a French guy in a diaper and a German in a toga...

what we look like with out flash...so chic

And Nick arrives!!!
so different these two

Crazy eighties videos bring smiles to our faces

Ted's a baller, he buys cheap wine for all!

We leave Living for Ted's favorite: Rock and Beer. A bar run by a pirate which serves those two things, ROck and Beer. Mike and Ted are inexplicably drawn to the place no matter how far they wander away. No one but them wants to go, so we go anyway. Outside the super pancho place next door (where blog veterans Juliana and Austin had their first kiss) Ulises steals my camera and gets artsy.

Santi disappears, and we are all that is left after a night of debauchery

We arrive home, Ted falls asleep and his nipple falls out

Josh is mad that I'm taking such nice photos of him!

So the night was crazy, it was fun, and we went to bed at 7 am, a successful night indeed. When we woke up in the morning Ted was already gone, and left nothing but a cookbook with a very silly message, when I find it I'll put it on here.

Ted, we will miss you...but we'll see you when you get home from Patagonia, your beard better be down to your collar bone by then.

Its Balkan Night

Its Saturday, Balkan Night at El Teatro, and I am tired but going out anyway.
We go to Jeremy's with our cheap wine, looking forward to the luxury that is Jeremy's sweet ass pad.
There are fabulous people there,
we have a good time and urge everyone to hurry up and leave!!! We don't want to get there so late that we can't get a ticket!
There is no line, and plenty of tickets.
We shell out the 20 pesos we think is vale la pena for live music.

The place is empty and beautiful.
A larger than life chandelier hangs in the space left by a circular balcony over the entrance way, and the largest disco ball I've ever seen slowly spins over the dance floor.
I watch from the balcony above the dance floor, surveying.
This place is very cool: an old theater with a dance floor instead of seats, and a bar with popcorn instead of peanuts.
We wander over when Jess tells up we can have a bottle of wine for 20 pesos, an our plan to avoid spending money falters. To make up for it I eat an entire bowl of salty popcorn...and then beg the bartender for the tap water he claims he doesn't have but resurfaces with 3 minutes later.

More and more people we know arrive,
including all the Frenchies and we start to talk, and dance to the weird Arabian music.
The French girl is always taking pictures

Finally we realize the dance floor has filled up and we rush downstairs to get in the front. We are ready for this Balkan music phenomenon that is "all the rage" in Europe.
The curtain finally opens....

and its Kumbia.
and Jessica is mad

Most people at this point have gotten tired of waiting and have left, but we are determined to get out 20 pesos worth, so we stay.
I'm glad to have Josh to dance with, Kumbia's kinda lame to dance to on your own
and kind of lame in general
But I just like dancing with Josh

Finally the band finished their set, and the DJ starts back up.
The music is sounding more Balkan now...people are starting to dance kind of strangely,
and I see some one doing that crazy Russian dance my Dad and I used to do when I was little
the one where you squat and kick your legs out

The music becomes more and more frenzied and so does the dancing.
People are dancing in circles, arm in arm - i am transported back to the old country
the room starts to spin, no its the people
and we are all separated as one by one we are sucked into the mix of people who are now mashing,
throwing themselves around, and flailing their arms
as they whirl and whirl and whirl

I like it at first, I abandon myself to it and let it take me, spin me around until...
whack!
An arm to the throat and I almost start to cry.
I pull it together though!
and once again abandon myself to this washing machine on spin cycle
I find Jessica, we dance more wildly than before, and we run into that Israeli guy from Jeremy's party.
We dance and are having a great time. Josh shows up, shirt off, wild look in his eye, he's loving this. I yell "this is my boyfriend Josh" and Israeli guy immediately disappears. Josh soon does too.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I scream into the crowd, tired of, men with one track minds.
Screaming feels...
amazing
Someone says to Jessica, I think you're friend is crazy.

We dance, we are pushed around, fall to the floor, and are picked up again. We find each other, we loose each other, and find ourselves.

4 thirty rolls around, we grab our people and head out the door just as all those inside are getting ready to kick it up a notch. The cool rain feels good at first on our steaming skin, but soon becomes too cold, and we abandon hope of finding a bus and hail a cab.
We arrive home tired, a little bewildered, and wake up sore.

BAFICI

The International Buenos Aires Independent Film Festival happens once a year, in theaters all over the city. Some in big name movie theaters, and some in small screening rooms, but its not the theater that makes the movie. So far I've seen two films, but I hope to see many more.
The first was an interesting film named She Unfolds By Day. I went to the film with Jess and Ted, and as we traveled to the Abasto shopping mall we discussed what we hopped the movie would be like. We were expecting the best of independent film making. Weird stuff. Maybe stuff that would make us uncomfortable, and for sure we wanted to be made to think. We settled into the comfiest theater I've ever been to in Buenos Aires (even though I'll forever be a Cine Lavalle loyalist, can't beat ten pesos for a movie) and as the doors shut, the lights went down, and the film began. Well, we got what we came for. It was weird, and a little bit boring, but we discussed it for a few days afterwards, so I guess that means it must have left some mark on us. The film was about an old woman, and her sick son who was not thrilled with his mother's increasing disappearing act. In the end, he goes on a date with her nurse. There, two lonely people come together over the end of one lonely woman's life. The story itself could have been told in thirty minutes, but it was cut up, told out of order, and interspersed in between the scenes were shots of a pack of wolves running around in the snow, the son's dog running around in the snow or jumping under a hose during the summer, and shots of bugs in nature that were often a little to close for my comfort level. After the movie was over we turned the message over in our minds, for surely there had to be a message. Aging is natural was the most obvious answer, but we kept returning to that pack of running wolves...maybe they were the metaphor for the old woman! Ted decided that maybe she was the lone wolf!! Wondering around in nature and ready to die. I thought maybe she was the stag that the wolves's ate leaving only some antlers behind to play with.
The message of the next movie was not difficult to decipher, but it did leave me with plenty of food for thought. After work on Tuesday, I bussed over to the Alliance Francaise, a French cultural center, for a documentary called Pizza in Auschwitz. It documents the journey of a Holocaust survivor as he returns to Germany and Poland to take his two Israeli children on the same path he took during the Holocaust. Only him and his older brother survived. I'm fairly certain none of you will see this movie, so I'll spoil the ending. Even though he never talked about the Holocaust before his first child was born, with the first screams of him baby boy he began to talk about it and never stopped. His children had grown up with Holocaust horror stories instead of bed time stories, and his daughter had grown up terrified that every knock on the door was an SS officer coming to get them. He says he raised them to be strong, she says he terrorized them. His older son grew up to be a very religious Jew, and along the journey, the daughter (who narrated the film) echoed thoughts I had once thought myself on a similar journey. She was jealous of her brother who had his prayer with him wherever he went.
The climax of the story comes when their father attempts to have them stay the night in his old bunk in Berkenhau. In the beginning of the movie we see an old man who has dealt with his nightmares through laughter. They make Holocaust jokes, not extremely distasteful, but jokes none the less that at first are shocking to hear, but in the end I found myself giggling with the old man. His attitude was always that there was nothing to cry about. He survived, that was his victory. Once he returns to Birkenhau things changed a bit. The office of the camp gives him a hard time about spending the night. They want him to pay if they'll let him stay at all. The old man...freaks out. He yells at them, you have no right!!! I already paid my dues here!! When a survivor comes here you have to let him do whatever he wants to do because of all that he suffered. In the end they spend a good part of the night in the bunk where the daughter forced her dad to have some pizza they brought in. What a sensation he says! To be eating a slice of pizza while lying on his old bunk where he lay night after night after a long day of working on the ramp into the camp sorting through the clothes and luggage of those sent directly to the gas chambers. It is during this part of the film that the daughter has a break through and the movie climaxes. She yells, we will never understand you!!!! We will never understand you and you should be grateful for that, what did you want us to go through what you did? Because then we could understand you, but we didn't, and we love you, but we will never understand you and you should be grateful that we love you and that we will never understand you. Even in his old bunk it would still be impossible to understand him having never lived it. It was powerful. In the end I guess that was what he came there to hear because they ended the trip before visiting the final camp he was sent to and traveled back to Israel to be in comfortable beds and with loving family. But their time together on this journey had obviously changed them all, and changed their relationship forever, and for better.
I left the movie deep in though, and found a pastry shop next door. I bough a media luna covered in chocolate that at first disappointed, but then I found the glorious dolce de leche center and was glad to taste the sweetness of life as I could feel it on my skin and see it with my eyes. I sat down on a wall next to Aveneida 9 de Julo (the widest avenue in the world) to enjoy my treat and to think for a bit. A line the daughter said at the end struck me: she said I guess this is why some people say there is no such thing as a Holocaust survivor. And to think all those who physically survived will soon be dead. We must never forget.

The Nitty-Gritty

A very important blog follower has requested that we post not only about the cool stuff that happens, but the nitty-gritty as well. Like what it's like to live on 25 pesos a day, between two people, for example. While we aren't head banging to heavy metal or dancing our pants off at fabulous parties or watching the sun rise, our lives are...a little difficult. I say this because we really have no money. This is mostly to blame on the fact that it is the end of the month and as is custom here we are only paid once a month. Wow, I thought I knew how to budget, but...next month its time to take it to the next level. Having loads of cash in the beginning of the month is great, but then we pay rent on the 12th...we have some good steak, take a cab here and there, and end up with 200 pesos for the last two weeks. As of now we are living off some converted dollars (thank you ever so much Shelley). Also I would like to dedicate this post to meatloaf (no, not the singer), a life saver of the poor.
However, if this experience has taught me anything, it's that when you really have no money (besides a few dollars in the bank that are being saved for trips and such) you discover what it is in life you truly need. My parents have always said that while they have never been more poor than when they first got married, they also have never been happier (this claim was taken back when I spoke to them on their 26th anniversary last Friday and my mom told me they are actually happier now than ever before; my dad then attributed it to the fact the wine has only gotten better with the years...a hopeless romantic). In any case, besides getting stressed about what we are going to eat, and running all over the neighborhood in search of the pack of six eggs for two pesos instead of three pesos, we are very happy. In fact, never been happier. And while my first fall in a long time might ruin this, I've never thought about shopping less. I went one time in our first month here (not to mention the awesome red bag I bought), but as time went on my desire for new things faded. I've never had fewer cloths in my life, and not once have I stared at my closet (as I so often did with three times as many cloths) and stamped my foot while shouting "I just don't have anything to wear!!!!!" We've also gotten very creative with our cooking, and always eat tasty things even if they are cheap.
It is hard though. We can't go out when we want to, we have to make constant choices between the things we want to do that cost money, and I'm often stuck in the house when not working to avoid spending the few pesos that it would cost to sit in a cafe. Sometimes, when cooking or deciding whether or not we should spend the few extra pesos to have a little fun I put my head down, sigh, and feel utterly overwhelmed by our empty pockets. Lucky for me, Josh is always there to take me into his arms, hold me close and tell me its going to be OK. We'll find a way.
As another month ends another opportunity arises to be better budgetters, and I think its also time that I found a second line of work. But until the day comes when we have some extra cash on hand, we will eat out once a month (thanks Behars for an amazing three year anniversary dinner!!!) and abstain from ice cream.

14 Days Later...

...I did not wake up in a deserted hospital to an empty city ravaged by hoards of flesh eating zombies, but instead arose from my two-week hiatus in Buenos Aires to return to the blogosphere! Digital flower petals are raining down my screen in celebration of my arrival as we speak, impeding my vision so much that I must brush them aside with my cursor. Mind you, no such pomp and circumstance accompanied my physical return to Argentina, even though Santiago and Ulises said they intended to make some sort of a sign welcoming me home. But, if Facebook has taught me nothing else, it's that we are all more popular on the internet than in real life, so I was happy with just a big hug from Julia instead.

First, a few words about my trip to the States. The three hour time difference without much sleep - and airplane sleep at that -, a greeting party comprised of GW hoodlums and GB rapscallions, and EXPENSIVE (I say this not to show that only drink expensive booze, but to express my genuine shock at how expensive a particular 6-pack of beer, albeit good beer, was in comparison to a liter of Quilmes. Gotta love New York.) libations made my near 30 hours in New York a whirlwhind of a good time. True to my word I stuffed my stomach with New York pizza, with a lunch of fried chicken doused in hot sauce to top it all off. I got back to Massachusetts just in time to catch a snowfall the next day and suffered through a week of freezing my ass off but loving being home, even getting the opportunity to see Hannah's basketball team play. The Bat Mitzvah weekend was also loads of fun - it was fantastic to see so many people who I had not seen in months, and in some cases more than a year's time. I even got a beach towel! And even better, the break between the service and the party afforded me the time to run into Wellsley to hang out with more friends and eat an expensive sandwich. All in all, it was a great trip home and I'm really glad I got the opportunity to do it.

Bring me your tired, your poor, and your hungry for extortionately priced beer.

Since I got back I've also done a good amount of fun and interesting things, here are some highlights:

Unable to watch March Madness on our television and in search of a festive atmosphere to view the games, Ted and I have ventured out to the previously mentioned El Alamo two times in one week for some good old (North) American fun - once for the first round games, once for some Sweet Sixteen action. Amongst the mostly forgettable cast of characters we encountered in our time there, we met a guy named Larry from DC who went to Pitt. In his presence we witnessed two Pitt wins, which was beneficial for me not only because I picked Pitt to win those games but because I'm guessing he would have been much less likely to humor me by talking about DC had Pitt lost. But as it was, I got in my fix of DC nostalgia and could move on with my day. Plus, we got to see some reasonably exciting basketball and drink beer without hemorrhaging money, which was awesome, too.

Speaking of basketball, one of the things I really wanted to do but neglected to mention in my last post was to play my sport of choice upon arriving back in the States. It had been 5 months since I last handled the rock and was definitely itching to get in some playing time. I tried going to the gym one day only to be confronted by a basketball court occupied by novice volleyball players. So besides hoisting a few shots in my driveway after the Bat Mitzvah, I failed in my quest for the Holy G. Surely enough, the very night I got back in Buenos Aires Ted told me of a pick-up game in Palermo he was heading to. Julia also decided to join us and we ended up spending the better part of the evening playing basketball, and besides the fact my game was quite rusty, it felt good to get out and run, and I will definitely try and do so again. The only discouraging aspect of the experience was how many fouls the Argentine players called. Any contact merited an immediate foul call, no matter how minor it may have been. A slight bump, foul. A clean strip, foul. I don't wish to extrapolate this tendency at all, just thought it was worth mentioning. Also worth mentioning: Julia scored a basket! I think she actually scored before I did, and I'm not the least bit ashamed to admit it - my girl is an athlete.

If I got any paler due to my trip up north, Frisbee has undoubtedly fixed that situation. I spent my entire first weekend and one day this past weekend in the hot hot sun playing Frisbee. The tournament two Sunday's ago left my face burnt and peeling, but I learned my lesson and applied generous quantities of sunscreen yesterday. Despite my beet-red face, t felt great to be back out on the field surrounded by familiar faces and the tournament locale was incredible. You'd never know Fall had begun in Buenos Aires as it's hot as ever in our fair city. Yesterday, for example, was 12 degrees hotter than average. Throw in a healthy dose of humidity and it made for some exhausting Frisbee yesterday, but good Frisbee nonetheless. Our roommates and some of my students have advised me these summer-like days will come to an end and that today's weather is actually a sign of Fall's impending arrival. But after looking at the 10-day forecast, I don't know how much I believe them, that is unless Fall means mid-eighties and scattered thunderstorms. Either way, I'm ready for the someone to remove the invisible incubator that is currently encompassing Buenos Aires, even if that means a little rain.

Last but not least, especially it's probably been THE highlight since I got back to Buenos Aires, I spent this past Saturday head banging to Iron Maiden with 42,000 others, most notably Julia, Jessica, Nick (the only true metal fan amongst us, but his love for metal more than covered our ignorance of the genre) and Jessica's family friends Peter and Prudence, the former of whom works with Iron Maiden's finances - he's so VIP they actually get to fly in the band's 747, which is co-piloted by the lead singer. It was by far the most unique concert experience I've ever had, mainly because it's the first HUGE production I've seen in any genre, much less in one so explosive and with such a rabid fan base. We got VIP treatment all day, including getting wisked away after the show in the band's caravan (let it be known I tried to find a clip of Van Morrison's "Caravan" from The Band's The Last Waltz, but could not find one. It would have been a great reference. Blast.) and even chatted it up with one particularly jovial band member over drinks while watching a tango show afterward in the Four Seasons Hotel (listen to me name drop, one day living the VIP lifestyle has changed me). I still don't really like metal music, but I guess I have a new appreciation for it. And I definitely got my face shredded off, just as Nick said I would. Julia wrote a very extensive post with photos/videos, many of which I took (my computer no longer imports photos from my iPhone or camera. It also quits any application if I try to attach anything. As you can see, my baby is on her last legs, but she keeps trucking.) and I admit I have yet to read it. Yet all it took was one positive review to convince me not to compete with it, so be sure to read her account of the concert. She's so much more prompt with these things, I suffer for her blog-updating gusto. But in the end, you all gain from it, so I can't wallow in self-pity...for too long. Or, I could emulate her ways and try to post more often. I guess I'll give that route another try, because, quite frankly, it feels good to be back!