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Published: November 30th 2007
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Yuk mouth
notice the chunks of tomato (so classy) Being sick is a violent experience. Even the vocabulary is harsh. You don't place chunks, you blow them. You don't bake cookies, you toss them. You can't dry dance, you must dry heave. Chunder can't be kept in a nice little tupperwear container, you must use a bucket. And how gross is the word bile? Say it ......bile? Just saying it brings up a little bile don't it? (It's a self-perpetuating fluid). Now that I've made you all slightly uncomfortable, you can but sympathize slightly with the time that Jenny and I have had here in BA (which used to stand for Buenos Aires but now has changed to Bodily Anguish). Allow me to set the stage for you:
We left Mendoza with a bounce in our step and spark in our hearts. A quick overnight bus ride got us into Buenos Aires early in the morning. We have the fortunate enough luck to have Jenny's roommate/co-worker/friend Sarah living in BA for the last two months with her boyfriend John. We forced them out of bed at 8:30 which is about 4 hours before their typical wake up call. Everything in BA starts hours after it should. You wake at
Dirty Fingers
Not quite clean after our chocolate dessert in the park noon, have lunch at 4, eat dinner at 11 and go out to bar at 2. It's like everyone moved here from the west coast of the states and no one told them about the time change. Nevertheless, the pair were very happy to see us. We spoke of our travels for hours as they blinked the sleep out of their eyes. They're planning on going where we've been so it was a great opportunity to share the advice we've gained over the past few weeks. Then we all rallied for a quick tour of the surrounding area. They took us to the local rose garden for a picnic lunch of prosciutto wrapped cheese and red wine (so classy). We toured the Plaza Italia and heard stories of the amazing times they've had. Later that evening, we went out for a lovely sushi dinner (I had chicken). Sushi was chosen on a whim, we may have been more scrupulous had we known we'd be seeing this meal a second time. We went to bed that evening with great anticipation of our week in BA, completely unaware of the impending failed peace talks between intestine and pancreas that would result in
Sunset over BA
view from Sarah's balcony all out gastric warfare in the days to come.
We woke that Sunday and headed out to the barrio of San Telmo for this amazing street fair. Block after block of vendors selling everything you could imagine. The items ranged from the typical sunglasses and t-shirts to weird stuff like used dolls and old family pictures. All was going wonderfully until Jenny started to feel a little uneasy. She sat down on the curb in the hot sun and tried to compose herself. Then (casually and matter-of-fact, as if she were saying "my shirt is grey" or "the moon is in fact not made of cheese sir") Jenny said "I'm going to throw up" and (never a liar) she did not disappoint. So we left John and Sarah to their day of fun and scurried on home to sleep it off. The next 18 hours or so were miserable for my poor little princess. Details of which shant be shared at this time as to not offend our younger readers. All the while during Jenny's sickness I was right at her side taking care of her every need. Chivalrous you say? The word I would use is stupid. Instead
Blowing out the Candles
I wish this cake were real of gingerly cooing her to sleep at bedside, i should have locked her in quarantine out on the balcony behind the protection of glass and hosed her down with lye like a 1920's prisoner every hour.
Of course, right as Jenny had come out of her turmoils (we travelled to an STA office to research our travels, had wonderful burritos from a Chipotle ripoff, and even caught a movie that evening) The sickness fell upon me. Let me tell you, if forced to categorize the experience in a list of things we've done so far on the trip from best to worst, this would fall somewhere between 13 hour layover and 12 hour overnight bus ride with no bathroom stops. Please allow me to say that I handled my day of misery which exponentially less poise and grace as Jenny. I was a whiny, pouting, screaming little brat and I make no apologies for it. Eventually the sickness passed and we were able to get moving again, frustrated and confused. Frustrated at having wasted 3 days in one of the most amazing cities in the world. Confused because of everywhere, this is the least likely place to get sick.
9 de Julio
The widest street in the world We've been eating street vendor food for weeks in shady bodegas, trudging through marshes while getting devoured by potentially malarial bugs, I even drank the water in Costa Rica for crying out loud and we both came out unscathed. Then we come to one of the most modern, bustling metropolises in the world and start spewing sparks like a piccolo pete.
(I exaggerate of course, but if i didn't this would be incredibly boring. Let me know, if you like I can write the sleep-inducing laundry lists that the other shmo-hawks on this site putter out)
Yesterday we were healthy, happy and raring to go. Jenny and I left the locals John and Sarah to go be stupid tourists for the day. First stop was the Recoleta Cemetery. It's the location where all the important Argentines from the last two centuries are buried. In accordance with traditional Catholic opulence, each grave is it's own elaborate mini cathedral. There are 4,500 tombs in this cemetery, each housing many members of Argentina's most historic families. The sheer scale and volume of each piece is staggering. It's odd to think that with all of the beauty and detail put into these
I want my mommy
Despair personified tombs enjoyed by thousands every day for their gorgeous facades, the one person they're created for will only ever see the inside of wooden box.
After the cemetery, we headed to the Plaza de Mayo (a monument to Best Foods) It's the location of the presidential estate, the pink house. Which blows my mind. In a culture steeped in all the greasy glory of Latin bravado, their most masculinely powerful figure lives in a place more suited for Rainbow Brite. Also at the Plaza, we got to see an assembly of the Madres De Mayo. They are a group of women whose sons all disappeared under suspicious circumstances during the 1970's regime of General Jorge Videla, an orgy of state sponsored violence in which an estimated 30,000 dissenters were killed. These mothers gather every Thursday at 3:30 and have so for the last 25 or so years. They march in a circle around the plaza so that no one will forget their fallen children. I imagine that the procession was much larger a few years ago because the women are all at least in their seventies. Pretty moving. We finished up last night with an incredible dinner of traditional
Grrrrr!
In the river side town of Tigre Argentine food at a local hot-spot. It was a nice change of pace to be uncomfortable because you ate too much amazing deliciousness rather than the discomfort we had suffered the days before.
Today brings more BA fun with promises of a return to the market, trip around scenic La Boca and even a soccer match on Sunday. We depart BA on Monday (with John and Sarah in tow, best souvenirs yet) for Uruguay. (It's Jenny's turn to write the next blog, so I promise the next entry will be far less graphic.)
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Schultz
non-member comment
sad...
OH JEN! That really sucks :( You should slap Mike for taking a picture of you barfing...But that Greek restaurant looks fabulous...