Buenos Aires

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ARGENTINA

Ah! Argentina. We've been looking forward to this country for a while, even more so than Brazil because, from what we have heard, it is a cultural mecca. We left behind the desert of San Pedro de Atacama and headed for the land of tango, wine and cafes—not to mention ridiculous amounts of meat.
“And how big would you like your steak, sir?”
“Just send a cow by the table. I'll grab a chunk off as it passes by.”
I felt Tucano's restaurant was just training my stomach for this country. Argentina is not the place to visit if you're a vegetarian or an ex-smoker. Argentines will smoke anywhere, the train station, the grocery store, a preschool. Poor Ammi just quit and she is doing very well but every time she sees someone light up in an elevator she dies a little inside.
Thankfully crossing the border into Argentina was as easy as crossing the border into Chile. So far no repeats of what we refer to as the “Bolivia Incident”. Our twelve hour bus ride to Salta went surprisingly quick. Ammi found a nice English couple to talk to on the ride and I listened to her chirp along happily having found a willing audience.
The border between Chile and Argentina lies smack dab in the middle of the Andes mountains. It makes you wonder if the shape of Chile is the way it is because they used the Andes as a natural defense against other countries. After passing through the nauseatingly high number of switchbacks, we descended into the flat, lush valley signifying a major shift in the scenery. Looking back we could see that, like a child's drawing, there were a seemingly infinite number of mountain tops receding into the distance, each slightly more blue than the last until they finally merged with the color of the sky.

SALTA

From what we could tell from our research, Argentina is a little taste of European culture in the middle of South America: cafes lining the plazas, wide pedestrian thoroughfares, art museums and perfectly manicured parks. To tell you the truth, roughing it can be fun and exciting but THIS was the life. As soon as we got to Salta, we didn't just feel like we crossed a border, we felt like we were transported to a different continent.
Our first town and we were beginning to see the major differences. Argentina was not desert like Peru or Chile, but filled with palm trees and...purple trees? Throughout Salta the streets were lined with these amazingly beautiful trees, laden with so many purple flowers that the entire tree appeared purple. When I watched “What Dreams May Come” I assumed the purple flowered trees that lined his street were all imaginary, but now I was seeing the proof. Wow.
Much to our relief the Spanish in Argentina is much easier to understand than Chile. The only thing that took getting used to was the double L sound. Instead of pronouncing pollo (chicken) like poyo as they would back home, they would say pozho with a zh sound like cashmere. Or 'yo' would become zho. I argued with a man at a bakery for 10 minutes insisting that I wanted the empanada de pollo and not the pozho one he kept pointing at.
The first order of business was to clean Ammi's boots that she got encased in mud during our trip to the salt lakes in San Pedro. So we headed to the plaza and she sat down in front of the first shoe shine boy we could find. If his eyes could have bulged any more than they did they would have popped out, accompanied by the cartoon champaign cork sound effect. Seeing that we were serious and this wasn't a practical joke, he set to work with this biggest steal brush he had, producing a great cloud of choking dust right in his face. Afterwards Ammi's left boot remained a dull red color from the mud—that we assumed would likely never come out—but they were infinitely better than the mud-and-salt encrusted things she had before. We paid the man double and set off.
One of the coolest things about Argentina is the fact that most cultural events and museums are free or very nearly so. We took advantage of this as often as possible, by seeing the modern art museum and going to a piano recital by a famous Argentinian pianist. Now these things are so good we admit it felt weird not paying for them. I'd nudge Ammi and whisper, “Come on, let's find our seat before they realize we didn't pay.”
That night we went to see a peña, which is a traditional dance performance at a restaurant. My eyes bulged as I read the menu. “Mmmm steak! Augghhh!” (Homer Simpson sound effect). We also ordered a huge pitcher of wine that was wonderfully cheap. Then the dance began. Two dancers jumped around with a mixture of tango, flamenco, and tap dance while waving a handkerchief around. They danced right in front of our table and managed somehow not to kick anyone in the face.
The food came. “MEAT!” Ammi does her little dance when she has pie, I do a little happy dance when I eat a dead animal. It's a guy thing, I take a bite and am instantly transported to the tender-juicy-meat dimension. My eyes cross and I chew with my mouth open, emitting caveman sounds of satisfaction.
“Is it good?” Ammi asks.
“Please don't interrupt me during feeding time.” Yes. It was good.
After we finished our meals and drank our wine the unthinkable happened: the girl dancer came up and grabbed my hand. “I don't dance!” I pleaded. But she wouldn't take no for an answer! Oh the horror! She took me out onto the dance floor with all eyes watching! It felt like the nightmare where you go to school naked. Should I fake a seizure to get out of this? I was out of options. The music started. What should I do? I didn't think doing the Runnng Man would go over well. I tried to imitate her movements; spinning and snapping my fingers, but I felt like Erkel. She gave me commands that I couldn't understand, but she was smiling. After a while it wasn't so horrifying. I was spinning and making a fool of myself and didn't care. Then the song ended. That wasn't so bad. Not that you'd ever catch me doing it again, of course. Ammi is using the video to blackmail me, threatening to post it on youtube if I don't take her to see the penguins.

CORDOBA

We didn't end up doing a whole lot in this city just because we experienced sticker shock when we arrived. We were expecting to pay maybe 40 pesos a night for a hotel (roughly $13) because that is what we had become accustomed to paying everywhere we had traveled so far. We picked a place out of the book and took a taxi and we asked for a double room—90 pesos! We thought that we had just picked an expensive place by accident. So we walked around to another place from the book—120 pesos! Oh crap. All the hostels wanted 90 to 120 pesos a night, so after walking with our packs on for 2 hours our only choice was to walk to the plaza and ask the tourist office for help. We ended up finding a dorm that was 50 pesos a night for both of us but we only had roommates one of the night we were there. It wasn't that bad a place but for some reason doors would mysteriously slam shut at all hours of the night. Maybe it was haunted by all the souls that perished searching for somewhere cheap to sleep in Cordoba.
As we were sitting in the park we talked to a guy from Peru who said Cordoba was too hectic and busy for him. I didn't think it was meant to be insulting but some Argentines sitting nearby overheard his comment and apparently took offense. The argument became so heated we thought it would come to blows. After the guy from Peru slinked off, the Argentines apologized profusely to us and we said it was fine and that Argentina was a lovely country. At this they beamed with pride. So we realized that the quickest way to make friends or enemies is to say something about their country. Whether you gain a friend or make an enemy all depends on what you say.
This town has amazing bougainvillea-lined pedestrian walkways, parks big enough for spikey-haired kids to ride their motorcycles through (the parks are really THAT big), complete with lakes and amusement parks. We stared in wonder at the rich people who seemed to think it was fashionable to drink Budweiser mixed with Coke. We finished our beer and enjoyed the rides in the amusement park but no matter how cool the city was it just wasn't jiving with us. We even visited a place nearby called Villa Carlos La Paz which was also nice but it was time to move on.
“Let's go to Buenos Aires.”
“Sounds good. Let's go!”

BUENOS AIRES

We had been looking forward to going to Buenos Aires for as long as we has been thinking about this trip, so we began to get nervous as we read other peoples' blogs saying “This wasn't our favorite city” or “Buenos Aires is gritty” or that it's too “Westernized.” However, after spending two weeks here we realized that it wasn't gritty (not by far!), it is westernized (but not in a bad way), and it ended up being our favorite city so far. This city, and most of the country, has so much modern infrastructure that it made us wonder why Argentina wasn't considered a first world country.
Buenos Aires was founded by the Spanish, but a flood of German and Italian immigrants gave it a new flair, as well as the zh sound. It looks like New York but with a European twist. Every street is lined with trees: green, purple, and sometimes even what we refer to as the “Spitting Trees.” Drip, drip. “What is that?” We'd look up to a clear sky but felt like we were being rained on. “Where is that coming from?” SPLAT! What?!? That better not be...no. “What is going on here?” We finally figured out it was coming from this certain tree found all over the city. It's kinda refreshing really once you realize it's not coming from a bird's butt.
This city feels very relaxed with a flair of culture and a slightly psychotic soccer fan base. We loved the fact that there's easy public transportation (we love the subway!) and more parks than we could count. People here burst into tango for no apparent reason, drink deliciously inexpensive wine, and eat massive amounts of meat and pasta. It was no surprise to us why there was such a large ex-pat population here.
We had made it to BA just in time to see the election results. We went to an ex-pat bar with great beer specials just the occasion, but the place was so crowded we could barely see the projection screen TV showing the web-cast election results. Sometimes the only way we could tell what was happening was by the crowd cheering when Obama won a state or booing when McCain won a state. It was like being at a sporting event! It was exciting to see this kind of interest and enthusiasm for politics considering the generally apathetic approach that sadly tends to prevail in the U.S. We were very grateful the election turned out the way it did because otherwise the consequences might have been dire. The whole time we have been traveling EVERYONE we have met has been Pro-Obama, American travelers as well as people from around the world. In fact, some Europeans jokingly asked us if Republicans were even allowed to have passports because none of them had ever met one. When we got to Argentina the newspapers were declaring Obama the winner days before election day. We were worried if by some fluke McCain won, there would be riots around the globe. Thankfully it worked out and we got emails from all the people we met saying how happy they were that Obama won. Many people told us that it has restored their faith in America. We must confess it has restored ours as well.
The next day marked the end of the bet Ammi and I had. I grew my beard for a month and now it was time for Ammi to dye her hair blond. Not that I really thought she needs blond hair, but I felt it was an interesting travel experiment. So after getting a haircut and shaving (which made me look twelve) we took Ammi to a salon. After about an hour the dye was washed out and...it was still red. WTF? So I paid like an idiot and over the next few days Ammi tried two over the counter products with the same results. I finally came to the conclusion that if you took away Ammi's red hair it would be like taking the H out of H2O, she would lose an essential element that made her Ammi.
Another thing we'd heard on the blogs was to be careful about pickpockets on the subways. However, we'd heard that about everywhere, especially Peru, and no one even attempted to steal anything of ours. Frankly, we were a little insulted nobody even tried. “What, we're not good enough to steal from?” But the fact was we'd been extra-vigilant about locking our bags and keeping an eye on our things, and we were starting to relax. We enjoyed the subways in Europe, and so looked forward to not having to take a taxis everywhere. So we hopped on the subway, enjoying ourselves, and I looked down and...some dude has his hand in my pocket! I looked at him and he took his hand out and didn't seem alarmed. He shrugged and acted like this happened all the time. This is the reason that I carry two wallets, one secure in my money belt and a “fake wallet” that I keep in my pocket. If he was able to steal it he would have just gotten a few Pesos and some cardboard credit cards that I put in there just so it would be convincing as a “real wallet” in case we were mugged. The fact that he didn't seem scared that I'd punch him made me think he had accomplices standing right behind me, so we hopped off the next stop to readjust. I put my wallet in my backpack and wore it on my front. From then on we didn't have any problems.
One thing that I wanted to do and couldn't go home without seeing was a soccer game, not only for the soccer but for the experience of being in the stands among thousands of enthusiastic fans. Buenos Aires has many teams but the most well known are the Boca Juniors and River Plate and there just so happened to be a South American Cup match coming up between Boca Jrs and Inter Brazil. We booked a tour that picked us up, fed us pizza, got us drunk, took us to a “safe” part of the stadium, and drove us home afterwards. It was important to be safe because it's like gang colors in the U.S. if you wear the wrong color you could get your butt kicked. In South America, if you sit in the wrong part of the stadium you might get peed on by the opposing team's fans sitting above (peed on...yes really), and if you leave at the wrong time you might be leaving when the opposing team is demolishing the neighborhood. They took us to a “Boca Bar,” that was decked out in the Blue and Yellow of the team. A few minutes later, a bus pulled up outside accompanied by a armored car from which SWAT team members jumped out carrying meaning looking rifles. I soon found out why--the bus was carrying a group of drunk Inter Brazil fans spewing insults out the window at everyone outside. There was a split-second pause as the opposing teams' fans locked eyes, then the REAL insults flew, working each other into a frenzy. This was all part of the elaborate ceremony of being a soccer fan. Ammi turned to me. “You want to be a soccer hooligan, don't you?” I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet, but there was a certain excited energy in the air.
As we drove to the stadium we were told no weapons, drugs or cigarette lighter were not allowed in the stadium so she said if you had a lighter to hide it in your shoe. No word on where to put the Uzzi or the crack but since with smelled people tokin' it up we assumed they found somewhere but decided not to ask. Outside the stadium we were padded down for contraband, and then found that our “seat” was a slab of concrete. The fans were already in full force, cheering as loud as they could accompanied by huge drums that someone had managed to smuggle in, shooting off Roman Candles, and throwing toilet paper. A GIGANTIC Boca flag, as big as the stadium is tall, was being waved back and forth, requiring the combined coordination of hundreds of people. Everyone thrust their hands in the air to the beat like at a rock concert. The entire stadium thundered from the huge, undulating mass of fans, sounding like a stampede of cattle during an earthquake. I was afraid the stadium would collapse. And the game hadn't even started yet. Boca ended up losing 2-1 but the fans' spirits never sagged, they cheered as loud after the game ended as they did during and we had a great time.
We met up with one of Sydney's (Ammi's sister) friends named Gabriel, during our stay in Buenos Aires. We got to talking and drinking and the conversation turned to politics. Offhandedly, I asked what he thought of the Argentinian president because we've heard varying opinions. “I hate her worse than the Nazis.” From what we understand, she appropriated the entire country's pension fund claiming that she's keeping the money safe from the global financial crisis by taking it out of the stock market and putting it in her back pocket. Imagine your entire life savings gone, Poof!, overnight and there is nothing you can say about it. Americans complain about taxes but this is something entirely different. “The difference between 1st World and 3rd World isn't the amount of money the country has, or it's infrastructure, or the strength of its economy, but the willingness of it's leaders to obey the law,” Gabriel said. America is far from perfect but at least the rules still apply and that is something you can count on. It made us think.
The next day we went to see Evita's grave where, apparently, a burial plot is more expensive than a mansion. It's so high class in fact that originally she was thought too “low born” to be buried there. Apparently people are just dying to get in. Lucky stiffs! (Sorry, couldn't help myself. I'll stop now.) It turned out to be an amazingly peaceful place to spend the afternoon.
The rest of our stay was filled with free museums, music shows, an amusement park, wine and steaks. Ammi got to see a polo game, something she's always wanted to see. We spent two weeks there and it was amazing. The one thing we didn't do for whatever reason, and we'll have to do when we go back is take tango lessons.
Our last day we saw something that sounded strange, but was actually fun. There was a free Chess / Tango performance in a park. Two chess masters played a game at a table next to a huge painted chess board, where human “pieces” would dance out the moves. The pieces would dance differently depending on which piece it was. If the knight was moved, the girl would do a flip onto his back and he'd dance to the next square. It was quirky and cultural and downright fun, so Buenos Aires.
Well, thanks for reading. We are on our way South to see all the wonders of Patagonia. We love hearing from you guys and let us know if there is anything you would like to hear more about on the blog. Chao!






***TRAVELERS' TIPS***

-A fun thing to do is the Buenos Aire Pub Crawl It's free on your birthday!

- What's going on in Bueno's Aires? A good event calendar.

-Study your Boca Jr Song Lyrics before you go to the game

-Staying long term in BA? Check out Craig's List for furnished apartments

-It's much cheaper to go to a game by yourself, but you have to know where the safe places to sit are. Go with a local

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Photos

¨MEAT!!!¨
My stomach was full, but it hurt so good!

Cool Sunset
Salta

Plaza Mayor
Salta

Local Dance - Restaraunt
Salta

Ammi going Koo Koo
Villa Carlos La Paz, Cordoba

Election Party
Buenos Aires

Biggest Avenue in the world. 18 lanes!
Buenos Aires

These were what we called the ¨Spitting Trees¨
Buenos Aires

Plaza del Congreso
Supposedly based on ours

Boca fans
Buenos Aires

Boca vs. Inter Brazil
Buenos Aires

Comments

[Gina Martinez]

LOVE THE PURPLE TREES TOO!
HI GUYS! HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL! JUST WANTED TO SAY HELLO AND GLAD THAT YOU ARE HAVING A GREAT TIME, AND ARE SAFE! I LOVE THE PURPLE TREES TOO!!

[Agatha Lucero]

Hi
Hi guys, This is Agatha Gina's sister. Wow!! I have to say I am a bit jelous!! What a wonderful experience you both are having!! Buenos Aires is soo beautiful!! Yes I can say that is where I would love to go. You got me thinking now of my next trip. Hope you both are well and enjoying your trip. Take care, and love reading your blog. Keep them coming.

[Nat]

loving it
i love living vicariously through you. this beats the hell outta reality TV

[Sydney]

Gabriel loved you
Hi guys, I just talked to Gabriel the other day and he said that he loved hosting you guys in Argentina. I'm glad you got to meet him. I have friends in a lot of the countries on your list, so I will keep you posted. Love Syd