comemos chivito, tomamos fernet

Monday was a national feriado (celebrating el Día de la Raza, or Columbus Day), so Lidi and I made our way across the Río de la Plata to Montevideo.  It was a great weekend, even though things didn’t exactly start out smooth.

Because it was a long weekend and we like to leave things until the last minute, Buquebus was booked solid, so we had to resort to Seacat.  We didn’t think this would be a problem…until we boarded the ferry.

Thursday was incredibly windy and rainy, making it difficult to even get to the ferry terminal to begin with.  We finally made it there in one piece, checked our bags, went through immigration, and began making our way to the ferry.  We could not believe our eyes when we saw the ferry tiny boat.  The storm dominated the little Seacat.  Within the first five minutes after pulling away from the puerto, the boat began swaying from side to side, resulting in passengers, muy mareados.  One woman was passed out on the ground of the boat.  People were screaming and getting sick, all the while water was pouring in from the sides of the boat.  I saw my life flash before my eyes.  Luckily, it was an express boat, so we only had to deal with this locura for an hour.

Our bus from Colonia to Montevideo was just as eventful.  There was one loud borracho, who seemed as though he must be pregaming for a football game by the amount of cold ones he was tossing back.  We later found out that he had snuck past customs and was carrying drugs with him, so he was booted off the bus.  (C’mon dude, you need to be more stealth.)  While aduana was dealing with him, the woman in front of Lidi and I asked Lidi if she would put her luggage (aka a plastic garbage bag) under Lidi’s seat.  We thought it was a rather weird request, but Lidi told her to just put it under her own seat.  Two minutes later, aduana came back on the bus to ask this woman to open her plastic bag.  Sorpresa: she was smuggling drugs.  Good thing Lidi didn’t take the bag, otherwise we’d probably still be in Montevideo.  Ayyy.  We got to the hostel in Pocitos around 12am, rallied, and went to Tres Perros per the hostel’s recommendation.  One weird Uruguayan “custom” we observed: men oddly dominate the bars.  Some would say this would be a good thing, but it was just weird.  We would go as far to say there was a 1:4 girl to guy ratio.  Definitely not something we see every day in BA.

Friday we woke up to torrential downpours.  Not the weather for sightseeing, so unfortunately we spent the majority of the day at el shopping, changing money, grocery shopping, and basically seeking refuge from la lluvia.  We found a small Mexican joint for lunch, and by the time we were finished the rain had cleared up.  After dropping everything off at the hostel, we decided to walk down to the beach.  It was incredibly chilly and windy (a HUGE temperature change from last weekend in Córdoba!), but still beautiful.  We finished at a bar called Che, getting an early start on the evening.  On our way back to the hostel, we stopped at a chivitería for some comida típica.  So good.  Chivito is a lot like lomo, but better and más completo.  We went back to the hostel, fell into a deep food coma, and woke up and rallied to go to Asia de Cuba.  (Not very uruguayo…pero bueno.  They had 2x1 promociones de cerveza, so we weren’t going to complain!)  It was a lot of fun; great music, but we were missing our energía porteña.

Saturday was not very rainy, so we decided to explore Ciudad Vieja.  Just as we got of the colectivo we passed a California Burrito Co. (conveniently just as our resacas began to kick in…), so we just HAD to stop for lunch.  Claramente, we love Mexican food, especially in Uruguay.  We went to the Mercado del Puerto, where we went to Roldós and tried their infamous sparkling wine.  It was interesting, to say the least, and something that we had to do in Uruguay.  We then made our way to an artisan market in El Centro, while wandering through some barrios near the puerto.  It was the bicentenario in Uruguay, so there were lots of celebrations, performances, and desfiles in the street.  Pretty neat.

After our much needed siestas, we woke up to some talk downstairs of a possible asado that evening.  Instinctively, we sprinted to the market to pick up some bife y chori, and joined the rest of the porteños in the hostel for an asado.  We wound up going back to Asia de Cuba again that night, not as great as the night before but we still raged.

Sunday was another dreary, rainy day in Montevideo, so we slept in and laid low with the fellow porteños in the hostel.  I whipped up my genius salad creation for Lidi, which made everyone else laugh.  (¡La yanqui está haciendo algo para la latina!)  After a lot of laying around, Lidi and I went to the beach for a bit, to el shopping, then back to the hostel for another asado.  I really can’t get enough chori.  We decided to go to El Living for drinks with some of the other porteños from the hostel, where Lidi and I sipped on some delicious sangria.  There was this creepy old man in the hostel, an old surfer dude in his 50’s from Punta del Este, who has clearly smoked and drank too much for his own good.  On several occasions this weekend we caught him pulling a Peeping Tom into our private room.  He managed to follow us to El Living, where the bar owner literally threw him out (after seeing his insane level of creepiness).  When he was within twenty feet of us it was funny…any closer, and not so much.

On Monday we went to a delicious pizzería for lunch, then spent the majority of the afternoon walking around like uruguayas.  (Maté y termo en mano.)  We wound up in a pretty shady plaza, per the recommendation of the jovencito in the hostel, so we quickly bounced and wandered our way back to Pocitos.  Once we were back at the hostel, we quickly got our things together and before we knew it we were on our way back to BA.  Luckily, on Buquebus this time.

For the past three weeks I have been traveling nonstop, so I am excited to actually be in BA for a bit.  I’m in the process of scheduling a two-week trip to Patagonia, but details are all still up in the air.  In other news, I turn 22 in six days, and could not be dreading it more!

Chau,

audgentina.

más salteñas, porfa!

Greetings from Bolivia!

I arrived in Santa Cruz around noon on Thursday, welcomed with a nice 28ºC breeze. My flight to Cocha wasn’t scheduled to leave until 7:30pm that evening, so I decided to leave my bags at the airport and go into the city to explore for a few hours. Santa Cruz is more of an industrial city, but the center of town is filled with colonial architecture and traditional Bolivian elements (such as indigenous women roaming the streets wearing their conventional garb and pirated DVDs being sold on the streets alongside skewered papas and cow hearts). I explored the various mercados, tasted some of the local food, and enjoyed finally being able to wear a sundress.

It would be quite the understatement to say that Bolivia is a little less developed than Argentina; for one, the “bondis” are more like painted vans, a good decade older than I am, and whose ability to survive a crash test is doubtful at best. Traffic lights are more of a surgerencia than anything else, and you negotiate cab fares with the taxista, since none of the cabs have meters. It’s definitely a change of pace from life in Argentina (and especially life in the US), but I’m enjoying it!

I got to my hostel in Cochabamba very late on Thursday night, and after a very long day I was ecstatic to arrive to a very new and clean private room, with a private bath, double bed, and television...for the same rate as a dorm in any Argentine hostel.  I LOVE taking advantage of Bolivia’s underdeveloped economy.  These past few days I have really enjoyed exploring the city, while getting a serious bang for my buck.  My wallet has never been so happy with me.  

Cocha reminds me a lot of Mérida: colonial, indigenous, traditional, and tranquilo.  I have made my way to the mercado de artesanía, La Cancha (a HUGE market where they sell everything from manzanilla to dog food), but most importantly, countless salteñerías.  Salteñas are Bolivia’s empanadas, but are made out of corn meal instead of flour, so they are a lot sweeter than normal empanadas.  Inside the salteña, the filling is a lot soupier, and includes hard boiled eggs, olives, and some peas along with the carne (or pollo!).  They are significantly more filling than Argentine empanadas.  Like Paloma once said to me, I literally could have salteñas for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and be completely satisfied.  (Except I was recently told that eating salteñas for dinner isn’t something they “do” here...quite stupid and senseless if you ask me.)

On Saturday I went up to El Cristo de la Concordia.  Think Cristo Redentor, but much, much smaller. Still amazing, though.  At first I was considering walking one way, but after seeing a sign that read in English In order to avoid getting mugged, we recommend not to use the stairs,” I was quickly convinced to use the teleférico.  Getting to the top was absolutely breathtaking, looking over the city of Cochabamba and the entire valley.  After spending quite a bit of time taking in the view, I went back down and obviously made my way straight to a salteñería.  After stuffing my face with three salteñas (which you know, if you are familiar with salteñas, is a LOT), I was wandering through Plaza Colon where I bumped into Ladi.  We decided to go to Cochabamba’s second annual Arabic festival, something I definietly was not expecting to do in Bolivia!  It ended up being a lot of fun; lots of good food (delicious baklava!), Sangria, and international dances, including a Hawaiian hula dance. 

Yesterday I went with Mariela to La Cancha, where we bought some fresh hojas de coca and sipped on some delicious tea in Plaza Colon.  We ended up drinking the coca tea out of my maté, a wonderful fusion of two Latin American cultures.  I am going to do my best to bring some coca back to Argentina, it is so delicious and really wakes me up!  

Unfortunately I have wasted all of today figuring out my money situation.  Bolivia is apparently on some list of restricted countries with both of my banks, thus both of my debit cards have been frozen.  I literally have $70 bolivianos to my name.  Tomorrow night I am supposed to be heading to La Paz, but unless I get one of my accounts unfrozen, it looks like I am stuck in Cocha! 

Chau,
audgentina.

qué cagada

After being cooped up in bed for the past three days, I'm just about going nuts.  The only thing that is getting me through (what I have determined to be) this stomach bacterial infection is knowing that in less than two weeks I will be in BOLIVIA!  I could not be more excited.

Lago Titicaca, Bolivia

Let's just hope my BRATTY diet doesn't have to last much longer.  I'm dying for some real Bolivian salteñas and charque.

Chau,
audgentina.

tengo sueño

Someone decided to play a cruel joke on me this semester by giving me class at 8AM. Todos los días. I have not had such an early routine since high school, and I do not like it one bit. It is just plain offensive that I am expected not only to be up and functioning by then, but ALSO to be able to speak and absorb material in Spanish. So rude. I could be positive and say that it’s not that bad, since I end most days by noon and have the whole day free…but I’m still cranky from waking up at 7:30AM.

Because I have such an inflexible schedule as far as going out is concerned, I definitely have to take advantage of the weekends. I have been enjoying hanging out with my group of Argentine friends these past few weeks. They are from all over the country, but have come to la Capital Federal to estudiar. We sip maté together during the late afternoons and go to previas together on the weekends. I was nervous about returning to BA without mi media naranja (MISS YOU!), but I am in good hands with these argentinos. On Friday, Lu, Lidi, and I decided during our afternoon maté sesh that we wanted to have an easy, low-key night. We were all tired and the single-digit temperatures weren’t exactly enticing us to go out. But of course one thing led to another and before we knew it, we were heading to El Alamo. Una noche tranqui, we kept telling ourselves. Wrong. We wound up staying from 8:30PM-3AM. I’ll go ahead and let you guess how the night turned out.

Nene, ¿querés coca?

In just a few weeks I will be making my way up to Bolivia for a ten-day journey. I will be going to Cochabamba, Copacabana, Lake Titicaca, and La Paz. As much as I love spontaneously planning trips, I was unable to do so for Bolivia, as Americans require a visa to enter the country. I have spent the past weeks running all over the city getting everything in order, from a questionable yellow fever vaccine to countless returns to the Bolivian consulate, where I certainly got a taste of the real third world.  I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I'll blend right in.  My ojos claros and waspy skin complexion just scream Bolivian indígena, don't you think?

This next part is for you, Primetime.

While I was running all over the city getting my Bolivia visa in order, I decided to finally aprovechar of the Italian influence here in BA by gong on a mini pizza tour of the city. First stop was Pizzería Kentucky. Despite the re yanqui name, it is actually a clásico espacio porteño. The Argentine owner befriended a yanqui from Kentucky and named his restaurant chain after their meeting. The pizzería’s tacky, flashing neon sign definitely stands out among the classic architecture in Palermo and Recoleta, but after being here for almost seven months, I had to go. The pizza was good, but I wanted more. The next stop was Guerrín, in Tribunales. Better and cheesier, but I still wanted more. Last was El Cuartito in Barrio Norte, where I had the most deliciously succulent pizza that I’ve had in a long time. (Naples is the obvious exception.) So satisfied, I cannot even explain.

But this pizza exhibition was not just for my personal enjoyment. It was a learning experience. Several things I have taken from this pizza tour:

1. Una porción is not enough.
2. Thick, soft crust is the way they do it in BA.
3. No crazy flavors. None at all. Just many variations of what I consider to be plain.
4. If you’re just getting a slice, you stand up and eat it at la barra. Like farm animals.
5. Naples is an unfair comparison. Not everyone can make their pizza taste like big drops of heaven, so you need to give the underdogs a fair shot.

That being said, my pizza tour has forced to realize that I must join a gym. I’m not enjoying it one bit, but after countless bife de chorizo, Oreo alfajores, and choripan, I didn’t exactly have a choice. At least now I no longer have to feel guilty about going to the chori stand for an afternoon treat!

Chau,
audgentina.

labios, manchados por las uvas

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!

Next trip on the agenda: USA for a few weeks!

Chau,
audgentina.

coca, consuela y chachi

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.)

Chau,
audgentina.

mi argentinidad

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.)


Chau,
audgentina.

la oscuridad

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!

I am in love with this city.

Chau,
audgentina.

dos besos en las mejillas

This past weekend I went on my first ISA excursion to Puerto Iguazú. I had been avoiding excursions with ISA because I hate traveling in big groups, but I couldn't turn down this already-paid-for excursion to Iguazú...especially since everyone had been raving about this AMAZING asado. Thursday after school we boarded a cochecama omnibus and embarked on a twelve hour ride to Posadas, in the provincia of Misiones. We arrived early the next morning and transferred onto a smaller bus where we drove forty minutes to the small pueblo of San Ignacio. We arrived at Las Ruinas de San Ignacio sleepy, but ready to take on the busy day ahead of us. With the red clay contrasting with the bright blue (cloudless!) sky and luminously green flora, these Jesuit missions reminded me a little bit of the Mayan ruins I have seen in Yucatán, Mexico. After wandering around las ruinas for a while, we went into the centro of San Ignacio to the mercado de artesanía. The roads in San Ignacio were pure tierra colorada, giving this pueblito a very unique onda.

Our next stop was Estancia La Chaca, another forty-minute ride from San Ignacio. This estancia was so relaxing; when we arrived we were able to swim in the pool, lie on the hammocks, or play soccer, volleyball, tennis, or ping-pong. But when the food was brought out, everyone dropped whatever it was that they were doing, as this estancia is famous for having the best parrilla. The most delicious empanadas I have had in Argentina (which belive me, is a LOT) was at this estancia. They were so sweetly juicy with a perfect consistency. I dream about having these empanadas again. Then they brought out the choripan, probably my favorite thing about Argentina. Obviously, I had two. They had this pico de gallo-esque sauce to put on it, which gave it even more flavor. Finally was the delicious parrilla, complete with bife de chorizo, vacío, tira de asado, and everything else in between.

After I overstuffed myself (as I tend to do at parrillas), we were taken on a maté tour near the estancia. We were shown the difference between yerba maté leaves and regular tealeaves; las hojas de yerba maté tend to be a lighter green. We walked to the maté factory, where we saw the maté leaves being harvested and processed. During the processing of the yerba they are baked in this room where the leaves are directly exposed to heat, in an effort to destroy the ferments and avoid oxidation. Needless to say, we were only in this small room for a short period of time, as we overheated within seconds. In the next room there were piles and piles of Costco-size bags of yerba maté…¡mi sueño! We headed back to the estancia and had postre and cold maté, something I had never tried before; once with cold water, once with jugo de limón (¡BUENÍSIMO!). After we finished with the maté, we got back on the bus and drove four hours to our hotel in Puerto Iguazú, where we were greeted with fresh licuados, followed by an all you can eat buffet (including a fresh parrilla station, with lots of chorizo and morcilla…yum!).

We woke up early the next day to a complete breakfast buffet (just think: endless medialunas and dulce de leche), and left for the Parque Nacional Iguazú around 8:30hs. When we got to the park we took a train to the beginning of the paseo to Garganta del Diablo and walked across many, many puentes to the big waterfall. All I can say is OH. MY. GOD. I was sin palabras when we got to this magnificent sight. Thick mist and water everywhere, we were inevitably drenched at the top of the waterfall, but couldn’t even notice because it was just that spectacular. Everyone who had been to Iguazú before me had told me how powerful, emotional, and energizing the falls actually are, but I thought they were all full of it. I just couldn’t fathom the vivacity of the falls. But it is so true. Everyone was so energized. I don’t even know how to describe how I felt. It was so powerful and peaceful; I simply felt that it was just the falls and me. The exuberance I felt was real, and unlike anything I had ever felt before.

The park persisted to amaze me as we continued walking through the jungle, with endless waterfalls in sight. There are over 250 waterfalls in the park, but it feels like so much more than that. Basically, Niagra Falls is an embarrassment compared to Iguazú. We then went on a speedboat that took us underneath the falls. Yes, we knew about the speedboat the crashed a few months ago…but we were willing to take the risk. In our trajes de baño ready to get soaked, the boat would circle around a waterfall a few times, each time inching closer to the base. It was absolutely thrilling, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t screaming like a little girl.

Mid-afternoon we headed to Tres Fronteras: the point at which Río Paraguay and Río Paraná come together, creating the borders between Argentina, Brasil, and Paraguay (Paraguay on the left, Brasil on the right). It was pretty neat being only a few kilometers away from these two countries, both of which I hope to visit. We were there as the sun was setting, and while a group of Guaraní children sang some of their traditional songs it created the most perfect, relaxing end to an amazing day.

The next day we visited a Guaraní village. We boarded an open-air truck, which took us from our hotel to the pueblito. We wandered through the selva with our Guaraní guide, Luis, who taught us about their language, culture, and even hunting tactics. We then came across a group of Guaraní people, who sang us a few of their traditional canciones (much like the ones we heard the day prior at Tres Fronteras). I find Guaraní songs to be very melodic and soothing, so I bought a CD in hopes of using it for relaxation. Here’s a video that I took of one of the songs they sang to us (peep the kid swinging from the roof in the background):

They held a small market for us afterwards, selling their sacred virgin beads, rosaries, and other Guaraní artisan crafts. Once we finished browsing through the mercado, we headed back to the hotel (inadvertently tracking mud throughout the lobby…oops!). An asado was obviously my choice for lunch, and after quickly nomming we were off to the airport, headed back to BA. Being in the northeast part of Argentina for the weekend, we missed the sudden change in clima in BA and were in for quite a shock when we arrived and it was 12ºC. I have definitely developed a tolerancia porteña to the cold; it has been ranging in the teens (55ºF-65ºF) this week, and I have whipped out my faithful Barbour (who gets me through the hostile winters in Vermont).

Traveling with ISA was nice, considering it was already paid for and I could let someone else worry about the logistics and planning, but I definitely prefer traveling on my own in a smaller group. There’s just no way to travel efficiently when there is nearly fifty students. Plus, I found the program's excursion regulations to hinder on my characteristic independent spirit...sorry I'm not sorry.

Next adventure on the agenda is an indigenous journey to the provincias of Jujuy and Salta (including Quebrada de Humahuaca!) in northwestern Argentina at the end of the month. Just booked my plane tickets today! Until then, I will be hacking away at my extensive bucket list, studying for my parciales, and getting ready for the Superclásico next weekend (River Plate vs. Boca Juniors…said to be one of the greatest sport rivalries in the world)!

Chau,
audgentina.

locapalooza

Last week was Amanda and Abbie’s last week in BA before they moved to Lima (Peru…not Ohio) for the remainder of the semester. Every night of the week we managed to have an adventure of some sort to commemorate our amazing two months together. Monday night we went to Sálvame María, a local favorite of ours (in Belgrano) that serves an amazing chocolate mousse cake as well as our favorite Malbec, Santa Julia (hey stewn!). We usually come to Sálavame once a week and enjoy sitting outside until one in the morning (or later!) just chatting and enjoying the still fairly warm night breeze. On Tuesday we met up for a night out in Palermo, starting at Sugar Bar and eventually making our way to Kika Club. Paloma and I managed to stay out until 7:30AM…a true accomplishment coming home in broad daylight. Inevitably the next day was a first-class struggle, but we survived.

In fact, we still managed to pull ourselves together for a night of margaritas at another favorite restaurant, Xalapa. Read up, seriously the best margz in all of BA. Their enchiladas poblanas are also unreal. We ended the night very…happy…and proceeded to have extremely deep conversations on the Colectivo ride home, followed by a mood-lightening photoshoot that resulted in me missing my bus stop. Oops.

Our last night together was Thursday night, as I left Friday morning for Santiago de Chile. We went to Club Aráoz, a boliche that has hip-hop/reggaeton nights los jueves. The music is always great, but it’s a tradeoff for the kind of people the boliche attracts. Let’s just say that this isn’t exactly where I’ll find my novio porteño. We still had a blast, staying out until about 6:30AM. I have definitely fully adjusted to the nightlife horario here in BA. Before coming here, I never could have fathomed staying out that late under ANY circumstances. (What could I possibly be doing that late?!) However, after being here two months, I have gotten used to everything running later—dinner starting around 10 or 11, people heading to the bars around 1, and to the clubs around 3—so staying out that late doesn’t phase me anymore. Sorry Mom and Dad!

BUT, I did have my flight to Santiago the next morning. Luckily I had packed the night before because after coming home at that unacceptable hour of the morning, I pretty much only had time to shower and get changed...without a wink of sleep. As soon as I got on the bus to the airport, I was immediately hit by my fatigue and was left essentially non-functioning for the remainder of my travel day. In an attempt to wake myself up when I got to Ezeiza, I went to McDonald’s and got an egg and cheese sandwich on a bagel. Best. Decision. Ever.

It was when I was sitting outside of McDonald’s, incredibly sleep deprived and inhaling my egg-and-cheese when I realized that I had NO idea where I was going once I got to Santiago. Yes, I had the address of my hostel, but that was IT. I had no map of Santiago or anything, and I was on this flight alone and had planned on meeting up with my friends at the hostel. I somehow managed to hack onto a non-secure WiFi network in the airport to figure out an ideal bus/Metro course and crossed my fingers that all would go as planned. Well, somehow it did. I arrived at the hostel in one piece, and collapsed in my bed IMMEDIATELY. I woke up five hours later to the smell of a tasty, smoky asado. For 5,000 pesos we were able to have unlimited amounts of asado and cerveza. (Disclaimer: in Chile they used fake, Monopoly-style money, where about 500 pesos is equal to one US dollar.)

We woke up the next morning and immediately rallied for Lollapalooza. Getting our tickets from will-call was a bit of a frenzy (in fact, the most inconvenient, not-thought-out process I ever witnessed first-hand), but we managed to figure out how the “sistema” worked (shoving yourself to the front of the mass of people and sticking your passport through the bars until someone grabbed it), and were out of the mess in under an hour. We returned to the hostel, changed, prepared stir-fry for our late-night dinner, and left for the festival.

The weather this weekend was amazing. Eighties and sunny, it was perfect for Lollapalooza. We arrived around 2:30PM and bounced from show to show pretty much until the festival ended. The definite highlight of Saturday (and Lollapalooza in general) was Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros. Seriously, if you have the chance to see him…DO IT. He was INCREDIBLE live and he brought this adorable little boy onstage which pretty much made me die inside, it was so precious. We came back to the hostel after a long day of Lollapalooza-ing to our delicious stir-fry that we had prepared before we left. Great decision.

Sunday we arrived to Lolla early so we could see Devendra Banhart. Kiley, Alex and I did not realize how much of a sensation he is in South America, because it was a true locura getting into that show. (We should have expected it though, considering he is Colombian…) Seriously, RIOTS. People were climbing the fence; Chilean soldados on caballos were keeping the crowds back…I have NEVER seen anything like it before. We BARELY made it into the show, but I’m so glad we did because he was amazing. Definitely one of the better shows of the weekend. Other amazing shows this weekend included Cold War Kids and Kanye West—who I had seen in 2008 (LOLZ CT chongz!).

Sarah and I had the whole day in Santiago, as we were the only ones whose flight back to BA wasn’t until the evening. We spent the day exploring the nearby neighborhoods, having lunch at a French/Chilean fusion cuisine (weird, I know), and hiking La Virgen del Cerro San Cristóbal. (I use the term “hiking” loosely; as we were too worn out from our Lollapalooza-ing to actually hike it we took the trolley up instead). The view was amazing and looks over all of Santiago. Santiago is such an incredible city and turned out to be so much different than I thought it would be. I was expecting it to be polluted and dingy, but it turned out to be a much cleaner city than BA (which really isn’t that hard), with a beautiful landscape as it is nestled in the Andes. We were so grateful to see some of the city before returning back to BA, since we traveled all that way for just the weekend.

As for this week, I have been bed-ridden trying to fight off the post-Lolla gripe. A true struggle let me tell you. Next adventure on the agenda: Bariloche (in ten days!!).

Chau,
audgentina.

las sierras chicas

I spent this past four-day weekend in Córdoba, a provincia northwest of Buenos Aires. We left Retiro around 10pm Thursday night and embarked on our twelve-hour bus ride to Capilla del Monte, a small town about two hours from the city of Córdoba. Arriving on a cold and rainy Friday morning, we hopped on a van that took us forty-five minutes to our estancia. Estancia Ongamira is owned by an Australian/Argentine family, and it has been in the family for six generations (…and counting!). Some of the buildings on the estancia were built as early as 1597! It was pretty neat. We were the only people staying at Estancia Ongamira; it was very relaxing and tranquil. Upon our arrival, we were presented with a big and delicious breakfast of Bircher Muesli (a mixture of yogurt, rolled oats, fruit juice, nuts, honey and fresh fruit—SO good!), tostadas with dulce de leche and jams, and of course café and té.

After breakfast we began our hike on Cerro Colchiqui. Our hiking guide, Domingo, brought us on this five-hour hike that took us through the cool and misty mountains of the area surrounding our estancia. Even though it was really cloudy we were still able to see some incredible views from the mountaintops. We had packed a lunch—milanesa, tomato, and lettuce sandwich and an apple fresh from the estancia’s orchard—and ate it at the top of the mountain while Juan (our trip guide) told us some story about supposed UFO sightings at the top of said mountain…

We were welcomed back from the hike with a big merienda of té, café, deliciously fudgy brownies, mini lemon pancakes, and lots of dulce de leche and jams to smother on the pancakes. Inevitably we devoured ALL of the food. I took the most amazing shower (water is fresh from the spring, so amazing water quality and pressure…plus the towels were so soft I thought I was in heaven.) and immediately fell into a severe food coma. I woke up a few hours later only to eat MORE.

The chefs at the estancia had prepared an asado de bienvenida for us: first bringing out some blood sausage (MUCH better than it sounds, I promise) and chorizo, then a salad full of fresh and delicious vegetables (the tomatoes in Argentina are so jugosos), then another platter of lamb and tons of bife. I ate until I nearly exploded! Painfully full, but it was all so good I just couldn’t bring myself to stop eating. However, that was not all. They then brought out an apple and vanilla cake in a grape sauce (apples and grapes fresh from the estancia) with homemade cream garnished with fresh mint; if I could eat that dish every day for the rest of my life I would be the happiest person alive. After dinner—as if all that food simply was not enough—Alex, Vicki, Brandon and I walked through the estancia together to eat fresh grapes (off the vine!) and fresh walnuts in the greenhouse. The sky finally cleared up at night: there were so many stars! We all had a guiarreada outside. Juan is a guitarist in an Argentine band, so it was a really good time, especially under the stars. At one point we saw a bright orange “star” which we at first assumed to be either Jupiter or Mars, but then later found out that it actually was the light of a radio tower on top of a mountain…¡qué lastima!

The next day we woke up to another delicious breakfast of Bircher Muesli, tostadas with dulce de leche and jams, and café and té. We had the morning libre so Vicki, Brandon, Alex and I walked to Las Cuevas de Ongamira. A three-kilometer (I hate the metric system…) walk down the road from the estancia, we paid ten pesos to enter this entire canyon of caves and cliffs. We walked through the whole thing, including an ascenso that looked over the entire valley. The view was incredible. Being the only people there, we were able to take in the beauty of everything around us. It was SO WINDY (at some points I actually felt like I was going to fly off the cliff) but it was such a liberating feeling. After spending a solid thirty minutes soaking in the endless panorama at the top, we hiked back down to see the cuevas, which ended up less of a cave and more of a big curved rock surrounded by an arroyo—still so cool. The trail then led us to a pasture where there were some wild stallions. We played in the pasture for a little bit (like children) and then walked back to the estancia. The view of the mountains walking back was absolutely breathtaking; it just was not real life.

We came back to a delicious lunch: a wonderfully cheesy and meaty lasagna and for dessert a baked apple covered in a sweet dulce de leche sauce, filled with more dulce de leche, topped with fresh walnuts. After stuffing our faces for a solid hour and a half, we left for Las Salinas Grandes, about a three-hour van ride from the estancia. We got there right before sunset; the clouds in the sky were so trippy. I was in disbelief of how vast Las Salinas Grandes actually were; they seemed to continue forever. It really messed with your depth perception. There was a huge body of water (that actually looked more like a mirage at first) that didn’t appear to be that far away, but we were walking for a solid hour before we finally reached it. There were old, abandoned train tracks and mining equipment from when salt used to be mined at the flats. Las Salinas Grandes were super soft and mushy (from just having rained the week before), and when we took our shoes off to walk around it felt just like a spa treatment. Amazing. We roamed around the flats until it was completely dark outside. We had set up camp at the flats and enjoyed a merienda of brownies and yellow cake made by Juan. We relaxed by the campfire until dinner, when Juan made us a delicious stew of rice, bife, carrots, onions, potatoes, and more delicious vegetables. We stayed at Las Salinas Grandes until about 1:30am (not returning to the estancia until close to 5am), soaking in the stars and having another guiarreada.

On Sunday we were sad to wake up only to realize that this would be our last delicious breakfast of Bircher Muesli and its accompaniments. (I managed to get the Bircher Muesli recipe, and plan on making it often when I return home.) After breakfast, John (one of the owners of the estancia) gave us a ride on the back of his pickup truck to a trailhead where we started our horseback ride through the mountains. My horse was named Gringo (of course) and he sure was a strong-headed guy! We rode up to the base of the mountain and hiked up. The view was UNREAL; I felt like it was a green screen. We had some mountaintop maté while Juan told us some stories about the aborigines. It was so amazing and peaceful at the top, and we ended up hanging out at the top of the mountain for a few hours.

When we returned to the estancia, the chefs had prepared an early dinner of homemade pizzas for us. I don’t even want to know how much I ate, but it was easily more than a full pizza. They had prepared such an amazing variety for us: margherita, smoked goat cheese and caramelized onions, Hawaiian, and a lactose-free one with chorizo, tomatoes, peppers, and olives…among MANY others. We were all so sad to say goodbye to Juan and the staff; they were all SO amazing and the food was unbelievably delicious. Juan told us about some other tours he leads including a backpacking trip that goes through indigenous villages in northern Argentina, which particularly interested me. Before leaving the estancia I went to the grape vines and snagged some of the delicious uvas jugosas for a merienda on the way back to BA, but obviously finished them before we even got on the bus.

Buses in Argentina are really the way to travel. All of the seats recline almost all the way back—if not full cama—and they provide you with a pillow and a blanket. The seats aren’t all that uncomfortable, and it was very easy to fall asleep on both rides. The meals are just decent, but they are free and edible! Each bus has two levels, and the front row on the second level looks straight out in front of the bus, as from the same perspective as the bus driver. On the way back to BA I was lucky enough to get one of these golden seats, and watch the sunset over the mountains as we drove away from Capilla del Monte.

What an amazing weekend! Fresh air, lots of sun, and being away from the bustling life of BA was really what I needed. I’m off to Santiago on Friday for Lollapalooza…let’s just say that it will probably be a little different than my relaxing, outdoorsy weekend in Córdoba.

Chau,
audgentina.