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.

cerveza and freakz

What’s a year abroad without an Oktoberfest weekend?!?  I mean, Villa General Belgrano IS the Munich of South America…

Side note: I have found out that it is indeed possible go from my house in Belgrano to the bus in Retiro in less than thirty minutes, even while stopping for some chori.  A little risqué perhaps, but definitely doable.

We got to VGB around 8am on Friday morning, a little groggy and disoriented after the 12-hour bus ride.  Once we were all together, we got on a bus to Los Reartes.  After unknowingly missing our stop, we were dropped off literally in the middle of nowhere, unsure as to where we were actually headed.  After a long, sleepy walk in the cordobés heat, we managed to make our way to Cabañas Dali Luma, complete with a parrilla and pileta.  We settled in, showered, and changed, and were on our way back to VGB. 

Is this not the most ultimate hitchhiking car?

Buses are few, so we resorted to the standard Latin American form of transportation: hacer dedo.  (Yes, I can finally cross that off my bucket list!) Santiago and José de Mendoza managed to shove five of us in the back seat of their 1980’s sedan, even though the weight of all of us resulted in the back bumper dragging on the ground.  Sorry, dudes.  After having lunch in VGB and seeing that the Oktoberfest activities hadn’t started yet, we got loaded up on asado essentials and headed back to Dali Luma.  We spent the rest of the beautiful day by the pool, saving up our energy for that night’s asado.

Four sliced fingers later, our asado was ready.  It was an asado completo, with a full ensalada, chori y bife.  I guess I was a little too excited to eat my chori, because I spent the rest of the night with excruciating heartburn.

The cabañas were right on the Río Los Reartes, so we spent that hot Saturday morning and early afternoon chilling by the river, getting ready for the locura of Oktoberfest al cordobés. 

VGB is a very interesting place, a lot like Epcot’s Munich.  After getting our steins, we went around to all of the stands, fully absorbing the pedo argentino.  There were plenty of crazy people dressed up wearing wigs made of questionable materials, dancing to weird German music, taking steins to the face.  After many hours immersing us into the so-called German culture, we headed back to Dali Luma for a late night asado.  Luckily, this round of chori nomming was heartburn free, and I was sure to make up for the chori I was not able to eat the night before! 

After a lot of indecisiveness on Sunday morning, we decided to spend the day in the city of Córdoba.  It was a long walk along the river, to the main street, then up the main street until we came across the bus stop.  We knew it would be a while before the bus would come, so we figured we might as well get comfortable.  There just happened to be an ice cream parlor across the street from the bus stop, so we loaded up on the best ice cream that I’ve had in Argentina.  (Which is saying a lot, since the ice cream in Argentina is AMAZING.)  What was even better about this ice cream was that a medium cone was only 12 pesos…take that Freddo!  We spent a solid two hours sitting on the side of the road, basically looking like vagos, waiting for the bus.  We got to Córdoba around 4pm, found lunch, and wandered around the city for the rest of the afternoon. There are lots of college students in Córdoba, with both Argentine and extranjeros, so it’s a very young city.  But it’s also a very small city and we did not need more than a half-day there.  I’m definitely glad I came to Buenos Aires to study; I can see myself getting bored in little Córdoba.

But I mean, there is nothing like the energía porteña.

We went to La Zete for dinner, a delicious Middle Eastern restaurant.   It was a pretty early dinner…for Argentine standards…around 8pm.)  The food was amazing, but unfortunately I had to dip out early to catch a bus that would get me back to BA in time for my 8am class…rough.

This weekend, I'm off to Montevideo with Lidi!  Not sure what to expect, other than ridiculousness and (possibly too much) pedo.

Chau,
audgentina.

bolichori

Good news: I managed to find a tourist bus to get me back to La Paz, so no hitchhiking/donkey riding for me! (Hitchhiking IS on my South America bucket list, but I guess that will have to wait for Patagonia.)

It was so nice to not be on a bondi lleno de bolitas stankin’ up the place. I was a bit nervous crossing the lake in San Pedro de Tiquina, as the little boats just didn’t seem strong enough to carry such a large vehicle. But alas we made it, after waiting for forty minutes with bolichori all around us. We arrived in La Paz around 5:30pm on Saturday afternoon and got right to mercado wandering and pirated DVD scouting. La Paz, on top of being 3,200 meters above sea level, is also an incredibly hilly city, so you can imagine our exhaustion after walking around for three hours. We came back to a delicious meal of SPICY chicken (yes, spiciness actually exists in Bolivia!), arroz, and “fried potatoes,” according to the menu. (Also known as French fries…I love broken English translations.)

The sights in the actual city of La Paz are rather limited, so Sunday was devoted to lots of salteñas and more mercado browsing.  Taking advantage of the boliviano-dollar exchange rate was beyond epic.  Sunday night, dinner at the hostel was bolichori…obviously I went for seconds.  So good.

All in all, Bolivia was amazing.  Ten days was by no means enough time, so I definitely want to go back soon.  Uyuni, Potosí, and the Amazon are on my Bolivia part two checklist.  Being back in BA has been great though, lots of parciales so I have been rather busy.  Today I got my first Argentine haircut!  I was beyond nervous going into it, but they did an amazing job!  It feels amazing having my hair short again.

I am about to walk out the door to head to the bus station.  This weekend I’m going with Jenny and some of her UBA friends to Villa General Belgrano, in the provincia of Córdoba, for some Argentine Oktoberfest!  I am beyond excited, but also a little nervous to see how all of this goes down.  Details to follow.

Chau,

audgentina.

copacabana y boobiepoopie

For the past three days I have been in Copacabana, about four hours northwest of La Paz.  I write this post bundled up in my alpaca scarf and gloves, sipping on my coca tea, praying that the temperature doesn't drop any further. I wasn’t exactly prepared for this brisk weather when I was packing for Bolivia.

The bus ride from La Paz was brutal.  I don’t even think it would be appropriate to call it a “bus ride,” seeing as it was more of a van, jam packed with the smelliest humans I have ever encountered.  Lu warned me about the Bolivian smelliness, but I had no idea how bad it was actually going to be.  This is how I can sum up this scarring experience: homelessness, mildew, a month-old sweaty gym towel, smelly feet, and the worst body odor imaginable.  Try putting yourself in a small metal box (with ZERO circulation!) with that wretched stank for four hours.  Needless to say, I am riding a donkey back to La Paz today.

Because we are at 4,000 meters above sea level, the ability to breathe is actually a luxury. Walking up the stairs between the dining quarters and the dormitories, I am more winded than I am after running 5 miles.  Drinking coca helps a bit, but what would really be great would be a respirator.  At least I don’t have to worry about fitting in my daily workout!

Despite the cold and my lack of appropriate abrigos, I have been aprovechando of the fact that I am here in Copacabana.  Thursday was a beautiful day, and not too cold during the afternoon, so I went on a day-long kayak tour around the islands nearby on Lake Titicaca. The water is so blue and we could see all sorts of things swimming underneath us.  The infrastructure of the kayaks were extremely questionable, but it was all part of the experiencia boliviana.

One of the many things I love about Latin America: PIRATED DVDS.  Seriously, they are everywhere.  There are actually STORES that sell pirated versions of DVDs and CDs.  A lot of the time the pirated version sucks, whether it’s the bad quality, the fact that the whole movie isn’t on there, or it's dubbed in Spanish with no way of changing it to the original version.  When I got back from the kayak tour on Thursday, I poked my head into a pirated DVD store in town, just to see what they had.  I found that the DVDs they sold were the real deal—real DVD quality, the complete movie, full menu, different languages, subtitles, special effects, etc.—and for SIX bolivianos…around 86 cents.  My DVD collection is officially complete.

I was hoping to go to Isla del Sol yesterday, but it was very cold and rainy, so instead I wandered around the little village of Copacabana, eating lots of fresh fish, and meeting some new, interesting people.  Rural Bolivians are some of the nicest people you will ever meet, but some of their cultural divergences catch me off guard.  For example, I was laying down on a bench, reading, and a guy literally popped out from behind the bushes and said to me “eres muy linda!” and ran away.  Maybe this is not a cultural divergence rather lack of being exposed to many gringa-looking humans…

This afternoon I am going to make my way back to La Paz.  Tomorrow I will be hitting up the infamous artisan market, loading up on souvenirs while I can still take advantage of their developing economy.  As much as I love Bolivia, I am looking forward to returning to springtime in BA!  It is supposed to be 73°F when I return on Monday.  Can’t.  Wait.

Chau,

audgentina.

frío en la paz

I got everything sorted out and have made it to the capital of Bolivia in one piece! Barely though, the turbulence coming into La Paz was out of control. My flying anxiety only has gotten worse the more I travel. It is 5°C at the moment since the city is around 3,200 meters above sea level, so the alpaca scarf I bought in Cocha is finally getting some use out of it!  It is unreal how much I am feeling the effects of the altitude already; I legitimately ran out of breath walking up a small ramp in the airport.  As Paloma knows from our adventures in Salta and Jujuy, I don’t exactly handle altitude change well.  And by that, I mean not at all.  This is going to be fun.  Tomorrow I head to Copacabana, right on the southern shore of Lake Titicaca (hehehe), and I’ll be there until Saturday.  Hopefully by the time I get there I will be mature enough to hold back my laughter every time I hear someone say that word.  Doubtful.

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.

la belleza de la lengua...y otras cosas

Esperanza, lluvia, estrella, sonrisa, caramelo.  Sarah, you’re right: some things are just better in Spanish.  Spanish has a wonderful way of making the most explicit of words incredibly sentimental and romantic, one of the shortcomings of the English language.  I’ve been able to pick up on an amazing amount of language, mannerisms, and taboos while living here, including that coger does NOT mean to take, but I have loved learning about all of the linguistic emotions.  By now, I am speaking solamente en castellano, and oftentimes I will just sit back and listen to my friends talk, relishing the passion and sentiment that is so easily expressed through everyday words and phrases.  That is how I would describe Argentina: romantic, emotional, and passionate.  The most stereotypical of all Argentine cultural elements, the Tango, captures Argentina’s fondness of romance and passion.  Overhyped, a little outdated, and uncomfortably romantic (it’s a little strange to be that close to someone I’m not romantically involved with), it is one of the many touchy-feely cultural divergences that we don’t find in the US.  Personal space doesn’t really exist among Argentines; meeting someone for the first time and embracing them a kiss on the cheek is perfectly normal.  In fact, it is considered rude not to do so.

Speaking of la lengua, I have been having exceptional difficulty nailing the Spanish “rr.”  I’ve never been able to roll my tongue, but on Sunday, Meli, Lidi, and Lale made it their mission to teach me how.  God bless their patience, this was much more grueling than my “speech therapy” with Anj.  Using ejercicios para pronunciar la RR as the teaching platform, we spent the entire afternoon repeating/screaming words such as forro and borracho over and over again. (I hope the neighbors don't have any young kids…) It became more trial-and-error than anything else, but with lots of práctica I will hopefully have it down by January.  Forrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrro.

I came across this article the other day, 20 awesomely untranslatable words from around the world, and it got me thinking about how—for lack of a better word—awesome the art of the language is, considering there are over 6 billion people speaking nearly 7,000 different languages.  Did you know that there are more Spanish-speakers in the world than English speakers?  Yet for some reason, I find that most Argentine’s knowledge of English is far more proficient than most American’s knowledge of any second language, let alone Spanish.  A little embarrassing, no?  Unfortunately, I know very few people who are proficient in a second language, and even fewer who are considered to be fluent.  This may have to do with the fact that so many aspects of American culture are incorporated into Argentine society.  At times, I forget exactly how far away I am from home, as I pass a Starbucks or McDonald’s on my walk home, or turn on the television and flip to Friends or Grey’s Anatomy in English, with subtitles.  But still, I do not find this to serve as much of an excuse, as we are just as capable of fluently speaking a second language as any European or Latin American (unless there is something in the water preventing us from doing so, which I doubt is the case).

Tomorrow morning I leave for my ten-day adventure in Bolivia.  I will try to periodically while I’m there, but cannot make any promises...

¡Hasta el 26 de septiembre!

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.

julio: mapaches, chongas y cerveza

It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that I couldn’t bear to last a year without reuniting with my favorite chongs, so instead of being crunchy and backpacking around South America with just a pair of socks and a Swiss Army knife, I hopped on the next plane up to los Estados Unidos!

I didn’t exactly announce the date of my arrival…in fact I lied and told everyone except Prima that I was coming home on July 12th. I came home on July 5th. Yes, I am the world’s WORST liar ever, so everyone was impressed with my ability to keep this to myself. Turns out it is a LOT easier to keep something this HUGE to yourself when you’re a hemisphere away.

Sopresa, biatch! (Note the pasty Argentine winter skin)

I’m obsessed with WelcomeHomeBlog, and even though I don’t know anyone in our troops overseas, I have always dreamed about having a “soldier reunion.” So I took matters into my own hands and gave myself my own geniusly executed soldier reunion. I started by bbming Nina all day telling her there was something important that I had to tell her and that I would be calling her when she got out of work…aka CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE FOR ME. Around four o’clock I called her, as I was just a few blocks away from her apartment. I told her to get outside and managed to stall the conversation until I was in front of her building. “No. Stop. Shut the front door. That isn’t you. That can’t be—” Girlish screams, tears, and countless embraces followed her brief denial of my stateside presence. Obviously our first order of business upon reuniting was picking up a bottle of wine, bringing it to the Hudson River Park, and doing some long overdue catching up. It was here where we met our friend Diamond, quite possibly the most flamboyant black man we have ever encountered. I miss him right now more than anything.

Anjuli and Prima came down to the city that weekend and we did what we do best: raged. Raged so hard in fact that when Prima and I came home at 3:30AM a little “loopy,” we ordered a pizza and decided it would be a good idea to get a little shut-eye before we nommed. Wrong. Woke up at 7:30AM with ten voicemails and even more missed calls. Sorry for portering.

The rest of my time in New York revolved around going out to delicious meals with Mommy, Nina, even more food, alcohol (mainly margaritas and G&Ts), and reuniting with some of my Porter's and OWU loves that are in the city for the summer. I even ventured all the way over to Brooklyn to see Julz! Catching up with Ella was definitely the highlight of my time home. She is so wise and cool, I just hope I can be as successful as she is when I'm that old! (Keyword: old)

Seeing as it had been over six months since I had seen my beautiful sister, I demanded that Mommy and I roadtrip up to Burlington. Six hours and a torrential downpour later, CC and I were reunited for the first time in way too long. Never again will we face such cruel separation. We enjoyed delicious artisan crepes as we sat on Lake Champlain…followed by Burlington’s infamous soft serve; the maple walnut and black raspberry duo is a winner. After dinner CC and I went up Pearl Street only to be reunited with the one and only KILEY SCHULZE! It was a beautiful Argentine reunion, I only wish I could have smuggled her back here with me. (Miss you, mama!) Mommy spent another night up in Burlington with us, buying us pretty things, getting us massages, and taking us out to eat delicious food. She left a few days before I did, giving me the chance to get in touch with my inner Vermonter. Some may say that we lucked out with amazing weather that weekend; if by amazing you mean the scorching sun and suffocating heat, then we did! We spent the mornings nomming on delicious bagels from Burlington Bagel Bakery (I may even dare to say that it is better than Bagelworks), afternoons lying on the beach, and evenings pretending we have livers made of steel. As much as I loved all of the sister time I was having, my entire body was pretty much shot by the end of the weekend…aka time for me to head back down to Dorset.

For those of you who didn’t know, CC is the author of golden shinanigans, where she posts cool things she sees and likes. I know she is a million times cooler than me but please don’t rub it in.

My time in Dorset revolved around RUFUS, the Bachelorette, RUFUS, delicious food, floating on the Stratton Pond with Mommy, and…RUFUS! We are uncertain as to Rufus’s swimming abilities therefore he did not come with us to Stratton Pond, but next summer I will be determined to showcase his inner Michael Phelps to make up for the damage that Scooper caused.  Also in VT I helped Mom & Dad make some Argentina plans.  The whole family is coming down for winter break (Mom and CC on December 9 and Wright and Dad on December 18) and I could not be more excited!  I LOVE MY FAMILY!  THEY ARE THE BEST!

In an attempt to rage like it was 2008, Sarah, Prima, Anjuli, Grace, Nina, and I made it over to the Cape for a classic weekend of dysfunction, 10AM kings, and raccoon slaying. As Nina so eloquently phrased it in Phlerm Phile, “We went to the cape with a few of our friends, all of whom, like us, have questionable IQs/common sense. What sprung from this group of degenerates sharing a house together was a situation whose hilarity I COULD NOT EXAGGERATE.” We seriously need a reality TV show. Immediately upon arrival we obviously opened up a few bottles of Australia’s finest and before we knew it Nina was passed out and Anjuli was playing hair stylist.

Pre-strippage

After nomming delicious breakf sandz, dealing with a certain deli worker’s unprofessionalism (he clearly did not even go to deli school…), and an early morning game of Kings, we decided to go to Quisset for the day. As we pulled up to the house, we took one look at the big hill and began wondering HOW we could get someone to roll down it. Just imagining the epicness of one of us rolling down and down and down this massive hill was hilarious enough. But of course, we did not drop it. Sarah and I spied a backgammon board in the living room and being the WASPs that we are, challenged each other to a game…but raised the stakes. Loser has to roll down the hill…in their birthday suit. One bad roll led to many more bad rolls and before I knew it, all of Sarah’s pieces were off the board. F. (Fortunately backgammon is purely a game of luck so I am still confident in my skillz as a backgammon hustlaaa.) Before my defeat had even sunk in, she had rounded the troops and unwillingly dragged me outside to strip down and begin rolling. Regrettably this momentous occasion was completely documented, putting an end to my aspiring presidential campaign. Sarah ever so kindly posted my dress on the fence, a solid 100 feet from the point at which I stopped rolling. Ultimate walk of shame.

Dysfunction didn’t end there. The next morning we woke up to discover that someone had forgotten to close the dumpster lid taking the trash out the night before. Inside the dumpster were three raccoons…and one of them was dead. Animal Control on the Cape isn’t open on the weekends, so we had to take matters into our own hands. We began by throwing rocks and sticks into the dumpster, at which point we confirmed that there was in fact a dead raccoon. After almost staking one of the raccoons (accidentally, we swear.), we decided it was time to take a break from all our hard ‘coon slayage attempts and nom on some breakf sandz. While eating we decided to google “what to do when there are raccoons in your dumpster.” No hits. (We did learn that, ironically enough, raccoons find the smell of urine to be “very offensive,” so at least we had a Plan B.)

When we returned to the scene of the crime, the two live raccoons had bounced, leaving us with just one coon corpse and some trash. Appointing the dumpster opener (Graciela) to trash duty, we scooped up the mess (with a snow shovel) until all that was left was the lone ‘coon. Nina ended up being the one to man up and pick up the dead raccoon…whose hand was wrapped around a chain in the dumpster, clearly trying to escape. (Did you know that raccoons have opposable thumbs?!?!)

With the raccoon steadily balanced on the shovel, we walked it out about 50 into the woods. Once Grace delivered her heartfelt eulogy (“I gave you the best night of your life…I also gave you your last.”), it was launching time. Unfortunately Nina lacks the upper body strength necessary to catapult the ‘coon deep into the woods (tehehe), but it got the job done. The epicness of this raccoon launching cannot be captured in words, so we took a video to illustrate the hilarity of it all. (How many Porter’s girls does it take to get rid of a dead raccoon?)

My little man is bigger than me!  Unreal.

By early Sunday evening we were once again heading our separate ways, but my roadtrip didn’t end there. With a quick stop in Hingham to see Maggie, I made my way up to Bridgton, Maine, to creepily wander around an all boys camp…woo! Wright was so excited to see me, he could barely contain excitement. Seriously. When he saw me, he sprinted up to me and picked me up and twirled me around! I do believe there were tears. We made our way down to Freeport to have some delicious lobstaaaaah rolls on the haaaaahbaaah. On our way back to Bridgton, we spontaneously decided to do a little $15 bungee. (Who needs safety regulations anyway?) I’ve never heard Wright scream louder.  Once our locura came to an end, it was time for Wright to go back to camp and for me to start making my way back to New York.

I wasn’t even in New York for 24 hours when Nina and I decided that it was imperative for us to go to Connecticut. Making it there in record time (one hour and forty minutes BOOYAH), we needed to figure out how we were going to kill the next five hours while Prima and Grace were still at work. Deciding what to do took no time at all, as we instinctively made a beeline to Truffles to pick up some delicious Cajun chicken salad, then to the ex-Epicure for some bubbly, and finally to Highland Park for some OJ, ice, and Yorks. The most ultimate picnic. We headed “deep” into the woods of the Hillstead for a Porter’s afternoon…so excellent.

Naples was the obvious choice for dinner, and a few pizzas later we were rolling our way back to Prima’s house. (FYI: Naples has changed their French fries. They no longer have their infamous big, delicious fries, rather new thin, McDonald’s-esque nubs. Tristeza. At least the nice, cool ketchup hasn’t gone anywhere!) After bugging Hari to hang out with us, we cracked open a bottle of Pinot Grigio and watched the latest PLL (not sorry). So good.

We made it back to NYC again in record time (someone sign me up for NASCAR please!), and embarked on a nearly nine-mile walk from my apartment to Nina’s, then across the Brooklyn Bridge (soooo NYC!) and back to Nina’s. (That ought to make up for the excess calories we had been consuming.) It was such a great day to do this walk, with the unbearable NYC heat and humidity! We have never looked better. En serio.

NJ Transit = partaaaay trayyne!

And then there was New Jersey. Being New Jersey virgins ourselves, we decided we had to go and see what all the fuss was about, so we made our way down to THE Shore. Luckily for us, NJ Transit had us go from Penn Station to Trenton (WIN), Trenton to Philly, and Philly to Atlantic City. In Trenton we saw real Jersey confrontation, as some chong got in some poor woman’s face for the automatic toilet not flushing. (She clearly did not go to toilet flushing school…) Upon arrival in Atlantic City we had a few hours to kill, so we popped a squat on the curb and cracked open our emergency bottles of Stella…aka we blended in perfectly!

Before I knew it my last night in the USA had arrived. With some Indian with Dad and drinks with Brooke and Nina, I could not have had a more perfect sendoff. One highlight of the night was making (…or forcing) Nina to try a Fernet and Coke, my favorite Argentine cocktail. Let’s just say it’s going to take some serious work and determination to get her to love it like a porteña! Mommy took us to a very francais lunch on Monday, with lots of delicious sandwiches and desserts. Mmmmm. After a very tearful goodbye I was on my way to LaGuardia, where I was hassled about my visa by American morons who do not know how to read international dates. (Clearly they didn't even go to school.) Sitting on the runway in NYC for a solid three hours, I arrived in Atlanta with legitimately eight minutes to run to the other side of the airport. Sweet life. Once I got on the plane I was informed that my seat had been given away, so I came pretty close to sitting on the floor for the entirety of the eleven-hour flight. (There is only one flight to BA from Atlanta per day, and I was not about to spend 24 hours in Atlanta.) My bags did not make it to BA (shocker), but they were delivered to me the next day, sin problemas!

I am back in BA, safe and sound. I am missing my wonderful family and crazy friends lots, but I know these next five and a half months are going to fly by. It’s unbelievable that over half my time here in Argentina is already over! Since being back I have been crazed with course registration and renewing my visa (I am an undocumented extranjera at the moment!), but have made time to hang with mis amigos porteños and drink lots of maté!

More to come soon!

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.

argentina: mi amor, mi alma, mi vida

My life in the past four months, en fotos, videos y música.



Canción: "Ojalá Que Este Verano No Nos Maten!" by La Ola Que Quería Ser Chau

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.

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.