The over-consumption of vino…and carne (and then some more vino…) would perfectly describe our finde mendocino.
We got to Mendoza late on Thursday night, staying at Hostel Lao , apparently the number one hostel in Latin America. They provided us with comfortable beds, an all-hostel asado (with some of the best chorizo I have ever had), and actually SATISFYING desayunos…they even had FRUIT! (A true accomplishment in Argentina.) Oh, and FREE wine. Winnnnnn.
Friday morning we woke up to begin our wine bike tours in Luján, a locality outside of Mendoza. Dani, a friend that we met in the hostel, came along with us as well. She is from England but has spent the year studying in Santiago, so we were able to share many similar study abroad stories. We showed up at Baccus bike rentals and got our semi-functioning bikes, sin helmets or any other kind of precautionary measures, and soon embarked on our very long, struggling day of wine “sipping.”
We started at Cavas de Chacras, my favorite vineyard in Mendoza. There they offered us lunch where I nommed on the degustación de empanadas…amazing. Our first degustación de vino followed lunch, where our guía, Peter, left us sitting on the pond-side deck with an entire bottle of Merlot between the four of us girls. It was a beautiful fall day in Mendoza, with a cool breeze and vibrant foliage. Nothing could have made this visit more perfect. The next stop was Altavista, a larger bodega about a thirty-minute ride from Cavas de Chacras. Riding bikes, after drinking lots and lots of wine, is not the easiest task. Needless to say we showed up at the bodega a little loopy. We enjoyed our very complete degustación, which even included some Malbec Rosé, bringing me back to my freshman year days of Sutter Home White Zinfandel. (Shout out Reenz and Julz!) Ahhh, the memories.
Pulmary was our last stop, a small, family-owned, organic bodega in the center of Luján. By this point we were fairly…feliz…and came in probably not needing any more wine. But being the winos that we have become in Argentina, we came in ready to sip on some more delicious vino tinto. The owner of the bodega took us down to the cellar, where we tried some fresh port and tasted some Malbec and Merlot. Towards the end of our degustación we were left in the cellar, just us girls, with a bottle of vino. Twice in one day we were trusted with an unsupervised free bottle of wine…rookies. Luckily we did not have to ride our bikes back to the rental store; that would have been truly catastrophic. We managed to get a ride back to our hostel with one of the owners of the bodega, thus not having to worry about taking the wrong colectivo back to Mendoza. A few goofy phone conversations with guía Peter later, we were back at the hostel and attempting to get ready for dinner. We went out to Azafrán, a delicious parrilla in Mendoza. We are talking some serious carne business here, so I got bife de chorizo, enveloped in a flaky blue cheese puff pastry layer…so rare it practically came straight off the cow. I could not have been more satisfied; this was quite possibly the best steak I have had in Argentina. This was followed by dulce de leche crème brûlée…oooohhhh myyyy gooddddddd. Mendoza is a food (and wine!) haven.
On Saturday we struggled to pull ourselves out of bed at a reasonable hour for our day full of gaucho activity. (Too much vino the day before…) A few cups of maté cocido later, I had rallied and was ready for my alpargatas. Dani, Cassie, Paloma, and I took the colectivo to Maipú, where our gaucho friend Cisar met us and took us to the campo. Foliage-rich trees arching over the dirt roads, never-ending rows of Malbec uvas, and spectacular Andes in the background…it was the perfect setting to go horseback riding. Or so I thought. (I should have known what was coming next, given the fact that my caballo’s name was Tornado.)
Trotting through the vineyard, I was enjoying relaxing and soaking up the view. Dani began to gallop in front of me, and Tornado, being the alpha male that he is, decided to burst into a full-on gallop as well. Having no idea how on earth to ride/control/maintain balance on a sprinting horse, I grabbed on for dear life, pulling the reins as hard as I could. (This, however, did not stop Tornado, as he persisted on sprinting around sharp corners, heading towards God knows where.) When I lost the reins…and later the stirrups…I literally saw my life flash before my eyes. I honestly didn’t think I would EVER get off this speedy little demon. After what felt like a solid forty-five minutes of high-speed galloping, a gaucho on the side of the path came out and slowed the horse down just as I was starting to slip off the horse. Thank. God. For the rest of the day I refused to trust Tornado, and limited him to a very slow walk. (The little mischievous diablo didn’t even deserve to trot.)
Apart from this terrifying little joy ride I went on, the afternoon was great. The scenery was breathtaking, and I felt so removed from the city. I love Buenos Aires so much, but it is so nice to get away from the noise and hustle of the city. (I found out this weekend that Buenos Aires is the loudest city in Latin America, and fourth loudest in the world…not so shocking though!) When we got back to the hostel I immediately passed out (too much adrenaline for one afternoon), and woke up a few hours later to a delicious asado in the hostel. There honestly is nothing like waking up to the rich aromas of chorizo and bife de chorizo coming from downstairs. This was night two of stuffing my face with carne, accompanied by copious copas of vino; I love this Argentine life.
Sunday we slept in a little, finally recovering from the excess wine we had drank in the past two days. I woke up very much debilitated. (Turns out my little venture with Tornado took quite the toll on my body; arms, abs, back, and especially my groins were basically out of commission.) And on top of my wine-induced headache…ouch. After completely taking advantage of our free breakfast we spent a tranquila morning exploring Mendoza. We first head to the Mercado Central, a central market in the middle of Mendoza with lots of fresh meats, fruits, seafood, empanadas, parrilla, and more. Cassie eyed some paella, which we took para llevar and ate in Plaza Independencia. We spent the rest of the day perusing the artisan markets, where I found amazing earrings made from rice paper. Amazing. I seriously need to learn how to stay away from these dangerous mercados; this is where all my money is going. For dinner we went to Anna Bistro, definitely one of my favorite spots in Argentina. Walking down a stone path, there is a heated patio to the right, surrounded by fresco greenery and soft lights…so sexy and cool. The food was so amazing; Paloma and Cassie got an incredibly sauve pumpkin soup; the feuilletée de queso de cabra that I got was sin palabras.
Llama stare-down
El 20 de junio is el Día de la Bandera, so we got yet another day off school. We headed into Maipú for the day where we walked to the Trapiche bodega, one of the biggest wine companies in Argentina. I definitely like touring the small bodegas better, but it was interesting to see what one of the bigger companies looks like. They even have llamas on the grounds! Unreal. (Except while Cassie and Paloma and gawking at the cuteness of the llamas, all I could think of was the delicious llama that I munched on when I was in Jujuy and Salta…not sorry.) We met Mariela and Dani during the degustación, and the five of us decided to go to Beer Garden for lunch. We were almost positive that this was an inevitable tourist trap, but when we walked down a dirt road only to see a small little wooden building, surrounded by handpainted signs, we were pleasantly surprised. Beer Garden’s claim to fame is their artisan beer, which we ordered along with their homemade carne empanadas. ¡Qué ricoooooo!
Soon after lunch it was time for us to make our way back to BA. And by back to BA I mean flag down a colectivo on a deserted dirt road on the outskirts of Maipú, hoping that it was headed towards Mendoza…where we then would make our way back to the hostel…where we would then head to the airport, making our way back to BA. Las cenizas did not affect our journey whatsoever, however a snowstorm in Chile closed the border for a few days, forcing our fellow Chilean hostel-mates to fly back rather than take the bus. Ohhhh Chile. (One of the many reasons Argentina es mejor…hehe.)
I have less than a week left with Paloma and many of my other US friends in BA, which I am really dreading. We are going to Fuerzabruta on Friday night, which should be AMAZING.
As for school, I have two finals down, two more to go. (One due tomorrow, the last one in July.) I have all next week completely free to explore BA, which I am really looking forward to!
2012 may have come early for those of us in the Southern Hemisphere.
Last Saturday, el volcán Puyehue erupted in southern Chile, resulting in the evacuation of near 4,000 people in the area. However, the destruction didn’t stop there. The volcanic cenizas soon arrived to the Argentine Patagonia; particularly affecting the cities of Bariloche and Villa La Angostura, both located less than 100 kilometers from the volcano. Bariloche has over a meter of volcanic ash on the streets, and the techos of some houses have even collapsed because of the weight of the cenizas. But just a few days later, and some 1,700 km northeast from the eruption site, volcanic cenizas arrived in Buenos Aires. Zero visibility, a light layer of ash on the parked cars on the street, a musty overcast, and the pesky little cenizas even snuck their way onto my desk through my open window. Flights coming in and out of BA were cancelled for a good week, forcing Allegra and her novio to take a 40(!!!!!)-hour bus ride back from El Calafate. I think it’s safe to say that they’ll never set foot on a bus again for a very, VERY long time. 9,000 km west of the volcanic eruption, cenizas have arrived in Australia. AUSTRALIA. I mean seriously, what is happening to this world?!
Besides this little taste of mundial destruction, BA has been BA: busy, fun, and unpredictable. I have begun hacking away at my bucket list with Paloma since she leaves next Saturday…#depression. Our traditional post-cena wine dates last week included Möoi, sipping on our best friend, Santa Julia; and 878, where we stepped it up with some classier vino and some torrontés crème brûlée (which quite possibly may have been the greatest thing I have ever tasted...EVER).
One of my favorite places to go out at night is Club Cultural Matienzo. It is in Colegiales, very close to Belgrano, and every night they have a different event going on. Whether it is live music, tarot readings, or a local art exhibit, each night provides me with a fun time meeting new people and doing something new. On the first piso is the stage and some seating, where the events generally take place; second piso is the art exhibit with some more seating; and on the top piso they have this awesome outdoor terraza, covered with murals of crazy things only starving artists would think of drawing. Thursday night I went with Paloma, Rana, and Cassie, where we sat on the terrace, sipping on cheap, alternative cerveza while attempting to blend in with the starving artist community of Buenos Aires. I think I have found my people.
Friday afternoon Paloma and I went to Parque Tres de Febrero, BA’s Central Park. Lunch consisted of many empanadas from our favorite empanadaría, Tatú, and torrontés that we bought in Cafayate. There was a great deal of overcast due to the high concentration of cenizas in the cielo, but we had fun relaxing in the park and running away from a particular man shouting piropos at us. We did a little shopping afterwards, where I FINALLY bought a few things to add to my nonexistent winter wardrobe. Friday night we met up with Danny, Jay, Luisina, Lale, Mauri, and Noe at Noe’s apartment for a previa, and then heading to Mandarine Club for some boliche time, where La Champions Liga happened to have a little concierto! After our minor situation last weekend with the ladrones, Paloma and I were EXTREMELY cautious (and possibly borderline paranoid) when it came to guarding our bags, but didn’t let it ruin our night. I believe we got home around 6AM…totally normal. Muy buena onda esa noche.
Saturday was the first cloudless (and ceniza-less) day since the whole ceniza fiasco began, so Paloma and I went to Tigre. (It was my primera vez!) It’s about a forty-minute train ride from Belgrano, but once we got off I felt like I was miles away from the city. Tigre lies on the Paraná Delta and is a popular weekend destination for many porteños. Upon our arrival, Paloma took me directly to Waffle Mundo, where we each snacked on a delicious waffle, topped with dulce de leche, frutillas, crema y bananas. So. Delicious. We spent the remainder of the day wandering around the markets along the port, enjoying the semi-clean aire. As we headed back to the train station, a thick, grey cloud began to take over the beautiful pink/purple/orange…welcome back cenizas. Saturday night Luisina invited us to a birthday party, which pretty much consisted of drinking some Malbec and Fernet, lots of dancing, and of course choripan at the end of the night. Typical.
We struggled to drag ourselves out of bed on Sunday, for we had to get a relatively early start (…around 12) to get to la Feria de Mataderos. Mataderos is a barrio a little over an hour from Belgrano by colectivo (very close to Liniers, where the barrio boliviano is), and on Sundays they have this fantastic market that puts Recoleta and San Telmo to shame. Last Sunday also happened to be the 25th anniversary of the Feria de Mataderos, so there were even more vendors, performances, street food, and people than normal. Wonderfully overwhelming is how I would describe the market. There is literally EVERYTHING there, including a dulce de leche liquor. (Is this real life?) We did some shopping, took some pictures with a donkey/mule/pony-like creature (pictures to come), and obviously wound up eating some choripan. (Seriously, I don’t know what I’m going to do without chori in my life.) I finally gave in and bought my first leather bag for $80 AR! I love this place…and my new bag.
My two Argentine loves: Fernet y choripan
This week has been relatively uneventful as it marks the beginning of finals. Two classes down, two to go. Yesterday I grabbed lunch with Sara at Mark's where I had my first filling sandwich in a very long time. (Chicken, guacamole, tomatoes, and brie cheese…there are no words.) Afterwards I headed to Dada, a restobar in Plaza Serrano that turns into a fashion market in the early evening. Got a few winter essentials as well as some knock-out turquoise earrings. True life: I am a market junkie. Tonight I leave for Mendoza with Cassie and Paloma (hopefully the cenizas won't get in our way!), where we will be drinking LOTS of vino, horseback riding (our little Kentucky girl has never ridden a horse before! The irony will be epic), eating lots of asado, exploring the Andes, and maybe becoming a bit of a daredevil!
Sometimes, things don’t exactly go as planned. In Argentina this happens a lot but I have learned to go with the flow, as long as my life is not put in danger.
On Tuesday Paloma and I left for a 6-day trip to northwestern Argentina, in the provincias of Salta and Jujuy. There was a little miscommunication and our flights were booked arriving and departing from opposite cities, but we quickly resolved this minor dilemma and thought that everything from that point forward would go smoothly.
Pero nos equivocamos.
Tuesday was a wet, rainy, windy, and all around gross day. I couldn’t even anticipate the turbulence that lay ahead, but my flight took off on time and besides the occasional bumps and drops, everything was going relatively smoothly.
An hour into the flight—just as we’re getting out of the intense turbulence zone—the captain announces that there is a gas leak in the plane and that we would be returning back to Buenos Aires. Yes, we were halfway to Jujuy so we could have just continued on to our final destination, furthermore there are several large cities in between Jujuy and Buenos Aires where we could have landed, but regardless the plane turned around and brought us back to the zone of deathly turbulence.
Gripping onto the side of my seat, palms sweating, heart racing, I was ready to just fast-forward to Jujuy. There was a plane crash in Patagonia less than a week beforehand, so that didn’t exactly help calm my nerves.
Coming in over the Costanera, the dirty Río de la Plata beneath us, passing the River Plate stadium, we were basically back at Jorge Newbery so I thought I was able to finally breathe. As we were coming in to land, just as the wheels are about to screech against the damp pavement of the runway, the plane starts to take off again. The pilot comes on the loudspeaker only to tell us that another plane was coming into land right behind us and that we had to loop around again to land. Sitting by the window, I curiously peer out the window to see if I could see the plane behind us. Not only could I SEE the plane, but it was just a few hundred feet behind the tail of our plane.
Hey Courtney, don’t you wish you had been on this flight?
Planes just don’t crash in the air…that is something that you can bet on NEVER happening. However, a lack of communication with the ATC tower may result otherwise. Seeing the nose of the other plane behind us, I was hit with a wave of nausea and felt like I was going to pass out. The woman next to me sees my panic and immediately takes my hand in an effort to calm me down.
Todo bien, todo bien.
And yes, everything was okay. I mean, the Jujuy airport was closed because of weather so we had to land in Salta and then be shuttled two hours in a combi to Jujuy, but I made it in one piece. (And only seven hours after I was supposed to arrive!)
Well, things can only get better from here!
Paloma and I went out to dinner at an empanadería with two French guys that we met in our hostel. I got empanadas de llama…¡increíbles! Northwest Argentina is known for their delicious regional food, such as tamales, humitas, sopa de maní, empanadas, llama, locro…and it actually comes picante!
The next day was May 25th, not only my beautiful mother’s birthday but also El Día de la Patria in Argentina. All stores were closed in the morning and the entire city of Jujuy assembled in the central plaza for a big desfile. We were in a sea of celeste and Soles de Mayo. Young school children, gauchos on caballo, members of the ejército, and veterans, among many others, filed down San Martín as they were presented to the observing jujeños. The sense of national pride, even in this city of less than 300,000, was tremendous and contagious. Instead of throwing candy to the spectators, alfajores and empanadas were handed out. The plaza was filled with pancho stands, mobile kioscos, and vendors selling Argentine flags, flag pins, flag ribbons…pretty much flag-anything. The marching band played some of Argentina’s national songs as the jujeños sang along. The orgullo argentino that was so simply and modestly revealed in the little city of San Salvador de Jujuy made me recognize my own orgullo argentino…I am an Argentine resident after all!
We spent the rest of the day exploring the city, wandering the street markets of pirated movies and imitation Nike products, trying new regional specialties, and munching on hojas de coca. Coca leaves are legal in the provincias of Jujuy and Salta, traditionally used for medical or religious purposes. I basically relied on coca leaves when I was in Peru in 2008, as they are very effective with fighting altitude sickness. Las hojas de coca saved me again this past week, as we were between 5,000-13,000 feet above sea level at different points throughout the week. The coca leaves also awesomely numb your mouth when you chew on them…which you know, is always fun.
On Thursday we went on an excursion to Las Salinas Grandes. I visited some salt flats in Córdoba, but the ones in Jujuy (and Salta) are known for being pure salitre that extend for miles and miles, so we decided to check them out. Our guide first took us through some small indigenous villages (one of the villages only had one telephone for the entire community!), up through the autopista panamericana, and into Purmamarca where we hiked in the Quebrada de Humahuaca through the Cerro de los Siete Colores. The different colors on the mountain are a result of different sediments, each color signifying a different time period. The air was thin, we were huffin’ and puffin’, but it was such an extraordinary view that our inability to breathe seemed trivial. The reds, oranges, purples, and greens of the mountains were so unlike anything I had ever seen before, and I can’t even illustrate the radiance of the quebrada in words nor in photos.
While some of us grabbed lunch at a deli in Purmamarca (this means jamón crudo!), others opted to have a more regional dish in a small village on the way to the salt flats. After trying two closed restaurants, we arrived at one that had lunch but only for three people. Some had to ration, but we left with panzas llenas. After lunch we went up to Las Salinas Grandes…sunglasses necessary. We spent an hour roaming around the infinite flats, taking pictures of ourselves in the palm of someone’s hand, standing on people’s shoulders, ninja-fighting, eating our mini-friends, and with our dancing Bolivian people. The blinding reflection from the purely white salt left us sunburned, tired, dehydrated, and partially blind (for those without sunglasses), but we all still had smiles on our faces. Before heading back to Jujuy we stopped back at the Purmamarca market where we all loaded up on llama sweaters, scarves, and other cosas artesenales. Jujeños are predominantly indigenous with dark complexions, so they are immediately drawn to my light green eyes. ¡Qué bellos ojos! I may or may not have used this to my advantage when it came to haggling prices. Winnnnn.
Paloma and I went to Tilcara on Friday, a small town nestled in the Quebrada de Humahuaca, about an hour and a half from Jujuy. We got there in the early afternoon and had a long (two hours!) lunch at a cute little restaurant, where we stuffed ourselves with empanadas, chorizo, and morcilla. We were seated in front of the window…ultimate people watching. A woman walked by selling indigenous dolls made out of seeds in a colorful dress…so naturally we both had to run out and get one for ourselves. We named hers Chachi and mine Consuela…and they are our new best friends. (Peep them lovin' each other to the left.) After lunch we began wandering the streets of Tilcara, hoping to make our way to the ruins or Garganta del Diablo. Well, we got sidetracked at the market (again, using my ojos verdes to my advantage), and ended up buying some pretty badass converse, woven with colorful, indigenous cloth. Don’t know how well these shoes will be accepted in the US, but I’m in Argentina for over six more months, and I plan on getting as much use out of them as possible. We headed back to Jujuy, stopped at our hostel, then went back to the bus station and hopped onto our bus to Salta. Paloma and I arrived around 10:30, and although we had a long day, we were still ready to hit up a peña. We got to La Vieja Estación around 11:30 (acceptable time for dinner in Argentina), getting one of the last seats in the house. Lots of folklore music, empanadas, tamales, and vino…buena onda.
The peña at La Vieja Estación in Salta
On Saturday we woke up early and got on a bus to Cafayate, about four hours south of Salta. Sara and Devon met us at the bus station and we immediately began our wine-tasting adventures. We started at Bodega Nanni, an organic, family-run vineyard. We were introduced to Torrontés, a dry white wine and Cafayate’s claim to fame. At Bodega Nanni we started talking to our tour guide who is actually from Boston. She was telling us about how she moved to Argentina for sustainable development in La Plata and then wound up working at this vineyard in Cafayate. She didn’t care that she was earning Argentine wages because she was so happy where she was. Talking with her really inspired me to do what I love. Right now, owning and running a vineyard seems to be my calling, but I’m still working out all the details. Walking around Cafayate, I fell in love. It is surrounded by gorgeous mountains, a similar landscape to Tilcara but much more green. The pink mountains in the distance make the beauty of Cafayate so incredibly unique. We went to three other vineyards, but I enjoyed the wines at Bodega Nanni more. They were much smoother than the others (especially Bodega Vasija Secreta, whose wine was a little too bitter for my liking), plus they’re all organic! After we vino-ed our way through Cafayate we wound up at an ice cream parlor that has Torrontés and Cabernet Sauvignon flavored ice cream…MAJOR win. Cabernet was my favorite, but they were both delicious. I mean…it’s WINE ice cream. A pretty ultimate fusion of life’s essentials, if you ask me.
Paloma left early Sunday morning so I spent the day with Mya and Kirsten. We had awesome luck with the weather all week; every day was sunny without a cloud in the sky. But on Sunday it was a bit gloomy, so we went to the supermercado, got some Malbec, cheese, crackers, and chocolate, and had a huge snuggle session in the hostel. LOTS of laughing, obvio, and before I knew it I was headed back to BA.
I’m off to Mendoza next! Bike-wine tours…here I come! (Watch out pedestrians.)
Inspired by my dear friend, mademoiselle ming, I have decided to compile a list of the top ten things that I am currently obsessed with. My life. Mi argentinidad.
1. Maté: An infused drink, prepared by immersing dried yerba maté leaves in hot water. A lot like green tea...except ONE MILLION TIME BETTER. I am literally obsessed. OBSESSED. I drink it before school, after school, in class, in the park, on the bus, during meals…you name it. (I’m even drinking maté right now!) I became hooked on maté in Bariloche (when I realized that the reason that so many Argentines are obsessed with maté is because of the incredible effect this little herb has on you), and I am now a certified maté maniac. Most extranjeros prefer maté dulce (maté prepared with honey or sugar) since maté amargo is an acquired taste, but I tend to stick with the amargo.
There is a specific etiquette for drinking maté…it is not like any other beverage. The same maté and bombilla are used by everyone drinking…no germaphobes allowed. He (or she!) who assumes the duty of the cebador pours water slowly, filling the gourd. The cebador will drink the first gourd of maté to ensure that the temperature is right, that it is not too strong, and that it is sin palo. (The first few gourds of maté also tend to be extremely bitter, so the duty of the cebador is to serve the maté with best quality.) The gourd is then passed clockwise, and continues to be passed clockwise. When you are handed the maté, drink the whole gourd. The bombilla makes a very loud sucking noise when there is no more maté, but slurping isn’t rude according to maté etiquette. The cebador is the only one who holds the thermos of hot water, so when the maté is empty, hand the gourd back. He (or she!) will fill it with water and then pass it on to the next person. Don’t you dare say gracias until you have had enough maté, for that would tell the cebador: no quiero más maté. NEVER stir/mix/move the bombilla, unless you like a clogged bombilla and drinking yerba straight from the straw.
2. Malbec: One of Argentina’s well-known varieties of red wine (but let’s be serious, there are MANY). The Malbec grape is mixed with Merlot and Tannat to give it its full-bodied flavor. I have not been to Mendoza yet (I’m going June 16!), so I cannot share my pretentious and knowledgeable opinion of the true body of the grape. HOWEVER, from my experience actually drinking this sweet vino, it is quite possibly one of the greatest things to come out of Argentina. It is such a suave taste…I find it very difficult to limit myself to just one glass. Never before have I enjoyed drinking anything like I enjoy a delicious glass of Malbec. Santa Julia is undeniably my brand of choice…and at sixteen pesos, who could say no?
3. Fernet: An Argentine spirit, and one that you need to let grow on you. Yes, it very closely resembles battery acid at first taste, but once I gave it a chance it was impossible not to fall in love. You don’t drink it straight, rather mixed with Coke; this has quickly become my drink of choice. There’s nothing like seeing a bottle of Fernet Branca on the bar sill and knowing that I’m actually in Argentina. It may seem a little weird that Buenos Aires offers me solace in the iconic bottle of aromatic spirit, but for me Fernet is part of the quintessential Argentina that I have grown to love so much.
4. Dulce de leche: Nothing like caramel and nothing like milk, despite what others may say. Dulce de leche is a spread that can literally go on anything. I have put it on toast, medialunas, chocolate cookies, apples, you name it. They love their dulce de leche here, and I love the fact that they love it so much. (More for me!) There even is an entire dulce de leche section in the “toppings & spreads” aisle in the supermercado, yet not a single jar of peanut butter. From dulce de leche ice cream at Freddo to dulce de leche topping on a crepe at any café in town, it would be pretty hard to spend a week in this city without coming across what I like to call: God’s gift from heaven.
5. AlmaZén Natural: The health food store halfway between my house and school, where I am a very loyal customer and have befriended the darling girl that runs it. I go there to load up on all kinds of snacks, and they have pre-made, organic, delicious meals, which I get often. And as a result of this (somewhat) healthy eating, my clothes still fit! Nope, the Study Abroad Fifteen hasn't hit me yet, but I still have a solid 8 more months to fight it.
6. Boho-artsy-chic: Buenos Aires style is truly one of a kind, and in turn is forcing me to leave my preppy roots where they belong: on the Eastern Seaboard. (No more Jack Rogers and J.Crew shorts for me!) Leather is inevitably wildly popular, as just about anything and everything comes in leather (except for leather socks…I’m still scouring the mercados Nina!). Art is a true addiction in Buenos Aires, and it is truly manifested in la moda. A unique fusion of style has come out of the influence of artsy/boho/hipsters, which seem to constitute the multitude of young porteños. This includes lots of loose dresses, leather boots, skinny jeans, high heels, crop tops (I am still trying to get comfortable wearing crop tops…but I’m getting there!), leather pants, combat boots, and big, loose graphic tees. Day by day the BA moda rubs off on me more and more; I’m coming pretty close to losing my typical jeans-shirt-cardigan ensemble all together!
7. Happy hour lasting until 23hs: I’m not just talking about happy hour, though. Everything here runs on a later schedule: lunch between 14hs to 16hs, dinner between 21hs-22hs (or even later on the weekends!), bars from 23hs-02.30hs, boliche from 03hs to….! This daily horario gives me so much more time in my day; getting out of school at 14.30hs and not having dinner until 21hs gives me six and half hours to explore a new barrio, relax in a parque (see #8), get café with a friend, mosey through the shops of Palermo Soho, or take a siesta because I was out until morning the night before.
Things do run slower here; some uninformed extranjeros may even go as far to say that the service “sucks” in Argentina. At first this slower pace of life irritated me, as I’m used to constantly rushing through my day, even when I’m in no hurry at all. But after three months of relentless irritation, I am finally able to appreciate sitting down for an hour and a half lunch, not get irritated when the mozo takes a WHOLE twenty minutes (¡qué asco!) to bring over the menus, and know that I need to flag down the mozo if I want or need anything…including la cuenta. But this cultural divergence has taught me to relax. There is absolutely nothing “nice” about going out to eat if you’re just going to rush through the meal. Argentines certainly embrace life by savoring every moment, and I am starting to now as well.
8. Parques: Quite possibly one of the things I love most about Argentina, especially Buenos Aires. Here I am in a city of nearly 13 million people, so inevitably the urban elements of the city are quite apparent. Crime, pollution, people very much like New Yorkers, lots of traffic (and honking wars)…nothing surprising. However, within this overwhelming urban conglomeration are lots of parks and plazas—big and small—scattered throughout all barrios in the city. Porteños take advantage of these public spaces, where they can rollerblade, run, walk their dogs, rent a bike (¡gratis!), take out a paddleboat, share some maté with some friends…it goes on and on. Because Argentina also has a rather…relaxed…open-container law, it is great to be able to charlar with some friends with some Malbec or a Quilmes without worrying about the policía chasing you down.
9. Argentine music: From cumbia to reggaeton to Argentine rock, I’m getting really into ALL OF IT. Cumbia is traditional and folkloric. Reggaeton is intoxicating. Argentine rock is renowned and quite catchy. I am thrilled to say that my iTunes is already filling up with Guasones, Soda Stereo, Babasónicos, Bersuit Vergarabat, Los Enanitos Verdes, Fito Paéz…the list goes on and on. This song by Babasónicos called “Pijamas” is without a doubt my favorite song at the moment; unfortunately for those around me, I’m often attempting (but failing due to me being exceptionally tone deaf) to sing along.
10. Asado: It’s not like my love (or obsession) with choripan is a big secret. Some of you may remember that I was a vegetarian for almost two years prior to my arrival in Argentina, but I honestly can no longer remember why I ever made such an absurd life decision. I find myself fantasizing about the aromas of an Argentine parrilla, as I must limit myself to no more than one asado per week unless I plan on buying a whole new wardrobe. The quality of meat in Argentina is not overhyped at all. Personally, I prefer chorizo and morcilla (I am an avid morcilla enthusiast, but unfortunately I stand alone) over tira de asado and bife de chorizo, but by no means would I ever turn down a jugoso slice of meat. (Not only because I am a true asado aficionado, but I believe most Argentines would simply consider it sacrilegious to say no.)
They say that los ciegos have heightened senses due to the brain’s ability to overcome losses of certain areas of stimuli…or something like that.
Last night, Cassie, Devon, Erika, and I went to see “A Ciegas con Luz,” un espectáculo musical gourmet en total oscuridad. None of us had ever been to such a show, so we had no idea what to expect. I, for one, did not think that we would be in a completely (and absolutely) dark room. There must be low lights o algo así…so I thought. Nope. Upon arriving at the theater, we were guided by the mozos/actores through a mysterious, pitch-black space. We were immersed in an area without any electricity, and we were forced to see reality from another dimension. Inferring from the sounds and smells, I imagined the mysterious space to be an elaborate, ritzy room, with a fountain area in the middle, columns to the side, and plants all around. The mozos guided us to our table, manos sobre sus hombros, where a plate lleno de comida (and lots of vino!) awaited us. (To facilitate our eating-in-the-dark, much of the food was put on skewers.) We had absolutely no idea what we were eating, but everything was so flavorful! There was a torta-thing, a skewer of carne, a bruchetta-like thing, and a caprese skewer. The postre was a chocolate cake…with a fruity topping…covered in chocolate…on a skewer! How they managed to do that is beyond me. I’m not going to lie, I felt pretty barbaric eating with no utensils, but was thankful for the oscuridad so no one could see me double-fisting my comida…
What makes El Teatro Ciego special is that many of the actors in the company are actually blind or with vision-impairments. Not only does the darkness facilitate the development of each individual’s senses, but it also promotes empathy among the members of the audience, erasing the differences between people that are perceived through sight.
While we were eating, the show was going on around us. Their stage was the same mysterious, dark place where we were sitting an eating. How the actors managed to move around without bumping into anybody is beyond me. We felt like we were right in the middle of the stage, getting splashed on, smelling fresh flowers and herb scents, hearing a train’s whistle right next to us, and smelling the burning gasoline of a motorcycle driving right by our table. During many parts of the show, I honestly forgot that it was pitch-black, because I was so focused on the fusion of the flavors and the sounds and smells around me that I didn’t even need to see what was around me. The room we were in truly felt elaborate, so you can imagine our dismay and bewilderment when the lights were turned on and we were in an ordinary dining room!
Banging pots and pans, carrying signs and posters with pictures of their missing loved ones, shouting: ¡Que aparezcan con vida nuestros hijos! Every day until the end of the Dirty War, women known as Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo gathered in the place of the same name, begging that their children be returned, safe and unharmed, from the mysterious detention centers scattered all throughout Argentina. It is now 35 years later, and they have not given up. Every Thursday at 4PM, Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo continue their protest. Being a Spanish/Political Science/Latin American Studies major, it’s safe to say that I’ve done my fair share of research on the Dirty War and the Madres. (Actually, anyone who knows me at all will tell you that I take every research opportunity to approach a different angle of the Dirty War in Argentina. Weird interest, I know.) But today was THE day to go. March 24 is a national holiday in Argentina, commemorating those disappeared during the Dirty War in the 1970s-80s.
Abbie, Paloma and I met up early this afternoon and began our Día Nacional de la Memoria por la Verdad y la Justicia (what a mouthful!) by touring La Casa Rosada. La Casa Rosada essentially is the same thing as the White House, except for that it solely consists of government offices; the president lives in a separate house. It's free to enter La Casa Rosada and you can get a tour of the whole building, including the presidential offices where you can also sign a guest book. (I wrote ¡Viva la Argentina!...I wonder if Cristina will actually read it.)
We then plopped ourselves down in the Plaza de Mayo where thousands of people had gathered to celebrate today’s national holiday. Commemorating 35 years since the last golpe militar, people from ALL kinds of organizations—not just the Madres—gathered to protest for justicia, verdad, and igualidad. We had packed a picnic of tostadas integrales, jamón crudo, uvas, and Malbec (of course. I love being abroad in a wine country!). Soaking in the energy of the march was an indescribable experience. More and more people kept filing in from Avenida 9 de Julio; easily fifteen thousand marchers. We had some entertaining interactions with vendors and beggars, but it made for an all-around incredible afternoon.
After the march, we continued walking down Avenida 9 de Julio, against the traffic of the marchers so we were able see more of the partaking groups. From socialists to students to H.I.J.O.S., the diversity of the participants astounded me. We made our way to the Obelisco, a historic icon of Buenos Aires (which I shamefully had not gone to visit until today). There were marchers all throughout Avenida 9 de Julio, and it seemed like forever before the marchers began to dwindle down.
I came back from the march actually high on LIFE (and some Malbec). Such an incredible and eye-opening experience. As for now, I’m headed off to Córdoba for the weekend!
