Last Tango in South America

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December 2, 2005 (Buenos Aires, Argentina)

Sean: Well we made it out of Bolivia, which is more than we can say for Ernesto “Che” Guevara as he met his demise at the hands of the Bolivian Army while training the people there for a Cuban style revolution. Unfortunately for him, the climate wasn’t as amenable to his tactics and the pesky CIA lent their skills to the Bolivian government. The fight was not only lost for the cause but Ernesto suffered an unpleasant fate.

(Note from Shannon on leaving La Paz: I don’t remember if we mentioned it in our last blog, but the airport in La Paz is at something over 13,000 feet elevation. Which made for an amazing view on take-off - the Andes were right there looming large before our eyes and it was incredible. We had a short 1 hour flight to Santa Cruz (Bolivia) before catching our connection to Buenos Aires. Sometime within the last half-hour of the flight I discovered that my joy at the incredible takeoff from La Paz was now equally matched by the true terror I felt while the plane came in for the landing in Santa Cruz. The pilot performed these truly gut-wrenching corkscrew maneuvers (at top speed, no less!) while coming in for the landing - I’ve never felt quite so uneasy about being on a commercial airplane before. Sean hypothesized that maybe due to the elevation and the resulting thinner-air, perhaps the pilot was forced to corkscrew down at a high rate of speed to maintain the proper amount of lift - or perhaps he was just a masochistic pilot. We’ll never know. But I was certainly glad to be down on the tarmac when we finally landed.)

Sean: Thankfully we made it into Buenos Aires without incident and are enjoying a much more cosmopolitan city than we’ve been used to for a while. It’s also quite affordable, which is a great combination for a couple of city lovin’ travelers such as ourselves. The architecture is very interesting and there are bookshops and cafes on every corner. What’s there not love, eh? The only dark spot in this otherwise idyllic city setting is that I can’t understand a damn thing anyone is saying. The version of Spanish here (to be fair, I was warned) is quite different than anything I’ve learned. After studying proper textbooks and dealing mostly with Mexicans and Central Americans, I’ve become quite used to a different accent entirely. They speak so fast and the accent is so foreign that I swear they might as well be speaking a whole other language entirely. Whereas in Guatemala, Panama, and even Peru, I could hold a decent conversation about a wide range of topics, here I’m barely limping through deciphering their answer to “¿Como esta?” My luck had to run out eventually. You can’t cover an equitable amount of ground in the States without running across some strange uses of the English language; I’m sure the bevy of accents and styles can be quite daunting to a non-native. Heck, I don’t even understand the Cajuns very well. A girl from Hamburg that we met in Guatemala had just spent (before she came to Central America) some time in Alabama and Tennessee with a friend of hers. Needless to say, comprehension of the second language that she’s been studying all her life went out the window as she attempted to communicate with the Deep South. I can truly empathize with you, Kerstin.

Shannon: Some quick notes on Argentina so far: First, it hardly feels like we’re in South America anymore. Argentina (or Buenos Aires at least) is a world away from any of the cities we’ve seen in the last 2 months. It feels much more European or North American; in a nutshell, we’ve stepped out of the second and third-world nations and returned to the first-world. Except for the language, we could easily be walking down a street in New York or taking the metro in London. It feels very familiar and at the same time it is completely foreign. But as Sean said, we’re doing our part to assimilate into the crowds by visiting all of the cafes and bookstores. Traveling is such a burden.

And what are we eating these days? Well, a whole lot of jamon y queso. Ham and cheese appears on every menu in a variety of forms, so it’s become something of a staple in our diet. You can have it in all sorts of sandwiches, in empanadas, on pizza, even in a salad. Coming in a close second would be the ever present medialunas, which are small croissants - either sweet (dulce) or plain (salada) - that make up the core of the Argentine breakfast. They are generally served with coffee or tea and are incredibly cheap. Tea by itself is less than a dollar, but for about $0.35 more you can 3 medialunas. It’s almost crazy not to order them at that price.

The café culture here is easy to love, and our morning routine basically revolves around it. We get up, go downstairs to the café around the corner, order our coffee or tea and medialunas, and peruse the local English language newspaper before deciding how to spend our day. And what I love is that the waiter gives you a small glass of seltzer water with your order (as a palate cleanser, I presume) and a small plate of tea cookies to go with it. It’s just so civilized.

The only downside is that a great number of the people of Buenos Aires smoke incessantly. You can’t go anywhere without being in a haze of smoke. It is most noticeable in places that you generally can’t smoke in the U.S. - shopping malls or on the subway (officially it’s illegal to smoke on the platforms and the trains, but we’ve seen people ignore the signs and no one seems to mind). It is ironic, really, since Sean and I just read on the Internet that Washington State has just passed a law that prevents smoking within the confines of the state’s borders (well maybe it’s not that strict). But here in B.A. the “no fumar” sections (when you can find them) are generally a joke.

And I don’t want to sound like I have some weird napkin fetish, but what’s with these South American countries? Here in B.A. we’ve found the same undersized napkins that were ever present in Peru, but the Argentines have added their own special twist to the paper product situation - theirs are more like a small napkin with a thin coat of wax applied to one side. Imagine how effective that is for wiping your face. In their product development, they obviously weren’t concerned with achieving any absorption factor, as the wax pretty much prevents that from happening. They remind me of the little papers you might use to grab a pastry out of the self-service section of the grocery store: great for wrapping messy foods, but as a napkin - not so much.


December 4, 2005 (Buenos Aires, Argentina)

Sean: Not wanting to be left behind in current world events, we went to see “Harry Potter and the Caliz del Fuego”. We’ve been craving mindless entertainment for some time, but up until now there hasn’t been much in the theaters that has grabbed us. So when we finally found the one movie theater that didn’t have the dubbed version of the latest from Hogwarts, we jumped at the chance to take a break from translation and difficult transactions. It was subtitled in Spanish (naturally) but that only lent to my enjoyment as I read along with the dialogue. “¡Malfoy, tu eres muy desagradable!”

Today we went to the gravesite of the most famous Argentine that any of us knows...thanks to Andrew Lloyd Webber. The Recoleta cemetery is a beautiful city of the dead in true New Orleans fashion. Everyone’s bedded down for eternity in these huge and tightly packed together mausoleums that are absolutely gorgeous and varied in their styles. The piece de la resistance of this pueblo de los muertos though is Eva “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” Peron herself. She’s buried in her family’s tomb and there’s not much fanfare or signs pointing the way. Fear not, though, because all you have to do is follow the crowds; all of us acting as though we really care about seeing the other thousands of tombs housing the crème de la crème of Buenos Aires society or the myriad political figures wasting to dust. So after we meandered for a respectable amount of time amongst all the famous people we’ve never heard of - to be fair, we did pass a lot of people who we recognized not for the reason they’re famous but just because we’ve walked on the street named after them. That’s something right? - we fell upon the hoards crammed down the narrow alley leading to the last resting place of one this country’s most divisive figures.

After we climbed over the unwashed heathen to take our requisite photos of the brass plaque adorned granite tomb, we went and visited her museum a few blocks away and read a little about her body and how well traveled it was after her death from cancer in 1952. It seems that she was loved so much that her coffin lay in state for 3 years in the Peronista party headquarters but was reviled so much that the opposition group, upon overthrowing Juan Peron, kidnapped(?) her body and eventually sent it to Italy where it was interred under a fake name for 16 years. Then in 1971, bowing to the political pressure back at home to find out what happened to her, the body was exhumed and sent to Spain where Juan was exiled at the time. The political situation got better for Juan a couple of years later and he was coerced into coming back, with his wife’s casket in tow, to assume command of the country and have her properly buried in her homeland. Unfortunately for him, he died not too long after returning, but her body made it back to where it lies today in her family’s tomb.

The museum itself was just ok, but it was in a beautiful building. There wasn’t much substance to the museum, though it did capture the salient points of a political life spent either being the savior to some or the devil incarnate to others. From model to political ingénue to Vice Presidential candidate (she never made it to the second in command position as this was even a little too much for her supporters. It just didn’t look right with her husband being the president and all) she was definitely one of the last century’s most notable figures.

Where Evita has parks and statues dotted around the country in her honor, the other iconic Argentine whose face is everywhere is none other than the previously mentioned “Che” himself, though his face is left to adorn everything from t-shirts to bottle openers to tea cozies. You can only savor the irony that the visage of this famous communist has become one of the most enduring capitalistic products ever to grace a tacky knick-knack.


December 5, 2005 (on a train headed for Mar del Plata, Argentina)

Shannon: Sean and I are now on our way to the Atlantic coast of Argentina, headed for a town that is reputedly one of the best places to surf in the nation. Sean has caught surfing fever, so we’re on our way to scratch that itch for him…

Sean and I are both big fans of train travel. Even though the buses are very comfortable in this country (just as they were in Peru), traveling by train just seems more refined. There is something magical about leaving from a train station, anyway. With their cavernous terminals and high windows, train stations are usually so much more grand than the bus station, which always seem to exude the warmth and atmosphere of a convenience store (and with similar architecture). And then there’s that feeling when the train pulls away from the station that seems to announce “The journey begins!” in a way that a bus pulling onto the road never can. While the train we are on right now isn’t the most luxurious (it’s seen better days), it does have the alluring sound of steel wheels on track and the comforting side-to-side ramble of a good train ride. And in this case, at least, we found that the train actually cost less than the bus. So it worked out all around.

The past week in Buenos Aires has been mostly relaxing. We always felt like we were racing against a clock in Peru because we had so little time to relax. We had already made the decision a while ago that we weren’t going to try to see “all” of Argentina, just concentrate our efforts on the areas around Buenos Aires, so that gives us more time to stop and see the city properly. I must say that we’ve almost been too relaxed this past week - all that time in cafes is spoiling us.

Buenos Aires is a great city to relax in. For one thing, aside from the fact that it’s residents all seem to speak with the speed of a good auctioneer, life seems to move at a pleasant pace. We see a lot of people lingering over lunch, walking in the parks and generally enjoying themselves. It’s a huge city, but it doesn’t feel frantic. We’ve spent almost a week there so far and will return again later this week after our excursion to Mar del Plata. I’m looking forward to exploring it more.


December 6, 2005 (Mar del Plata, Argentina)

Shannon: Our first day in Mar del Plata turned out a bit different than expected. The guidebook describes the town this way: “It’s worth going to Mar del Plata on a summer weekend if only so you’ll never again be tempted to say ‘gee this beach is crowded.’ There’s a couple of places where you could get a few strokes in without taking somebody’s eye out, but mostly it’s shoulder-to-shoulder sun-frazzled Porteños.” (People from Buenos Aires call themselves Porteños, literally “from the port”). They also say that the high season is December 15th through February 15th. By coming mid-week we hoped to miss some of the crowds but still have some nice surf-and-tan weather. We managed the first pretty easily - there was hardly anyone on the beach. But the nice weather turned out to be quite elusive. The day started off pretty miserably - rainy and cold - and never recovered. And when I say cold, I don’t mean ‘gee, it’s a bit nippy outside today’. I’m talking fleece, hat, scarf and gloves weather. And I swear it smelled like snow in the air. December 15th is only a week away and I can’t imagine how it could possibly be the start of high season here, unless we are experiencing some unusually cold weather. The only people we actually saw on the beach were three kids playing with a ball - and when it accidentally rolled into the surf, they looked like they were going to fight over who was going to have to go in and retrieve it. Not exactly what we expected.

Sean: A young man’s dreams of “hangin’ diez” were smashed as we alighted from the train, greeted by the freezing rain. “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco”, I feel Mark Twain’s pain here (although it’s been disputed whether he actually said that) in Mar del Plata let me tell you. While I wasn’t expecting Panama temperatures, I did think that it would be at least as nice as Buenos Aires, which was quite warm and pleasant. I’ve asked a few people if this is normal, but their replies are garbled in a strange mixture of a language I thought I knew and some confusing gibberish.

It was worth coming here, besides getting caught in the aforementioned freezing rain (we won’t talk about that) to see a few of the treasures that Mar del Plata has to offer. We had read that there was a place on the other side of the port where you could glimpse sea lions. This was an understatement. Again, since smell-o-net has yet to be developed, I can only leave you to infer what a colony of 800 sea lions smells like when you can get really close to them. Besides the stink, it was amazing how close you could get. They were separated from us by a rusty, old chain link fence, so I was sure that if they really wanted a piece of me, they wouldn’t have been that hampered. Thankfully, they didn’t take too much notice of any of the gawkers staring and pointing (and they only half raised a somnolent eyelid when some dogs attempted to incite a heated debate). But when I say that I could’ve reached over and petted a few through the broken sections, I’m not exaggerating. I was surprised that all the people there were behaving as well as they were, and no one was provoking the lions or climbing over the fence. I think it was the right mix of 1) we were outnumbered and 2) the fence being as rickety as it was. We all felt that our bigger-brained dominance of the situation could be tenuous (at best) if it got ugly. I can’t say the same for the safety of the rest of the sea lions as they periodically erupted into spates of growling and snapping when one felt that another was encroaching on their personal space. It was hard to tell how the situation changed as they were draped all over each other sleeping one minute and then all of a sudden one would jump up and start nipping at another over some grave sea lion error in etiquette. I was curious what happened so as not to find myself in a similar situation in the future, but they were keeping mum. Although, as a jaded American I can only guess that the quick flashes of anger were just shows to keep the bystanders happy and coming back.

Just beyond the sea lions is another interesting Mar del Plata nautical attraction. A large fleet of beached and rusting ships have been left unceremoniously in this corner of the harbor. I can’t believe that no one’s tried to go in and salvage any of the steel with the prices being as high as they are these days. There’s a place in India where they run huge tankers and containerships up onto the beach at high tide, wait for the water to recede and then have an army of workers with cutting torches fall upon it like ants, completely dismantling and recycling the entire ship (although it is an environmentalists worst nightmare. Not to mention that the site would give an OSHA inspector a heart attack). I’ve seen lots of pictures and they are very efficient, which is why I’m surprised that some enterprising sort hasn’t decided to attack these hulks in a similar fashion, recovering what they could for resale. The ships are highly accessible from the jetty, which gave Shannon fits as I was climbing all over the severely listing vessels looking for my own treasures (and tetanus infection). I came up empty handed on both counts.

Shannon: Sean and I had the opportunity today to try a typical Argentine drink - maté (pronounced mah-tay) - essentially a strong tea made from the leaves of a relative of the holly plant. It is served in a special cup made from a gourd and drunk through a metal straw called a bombilla. From what we’ve read and seen, it is a very communal drink: one person prepares the maté and each person partaking then sucks the entire cupful through the bombilla. Even though you see the cups and bombillas sold everywhere, though, maté really isn’t served in restaurants or cafes (it’s more of something you would prepare at home). So when Sean and I did see it on the menu on a café, we decided to finally try it. To say that it is an acquired taste would be an understatement. I don’t want to put down another country’s national drink, but it reminded me of the way Australians love Vegemite - to others it is a disgusting, bitter concoction, but the Aussies love it. Ditto for maté, in my opinion. It looks and tastes a bit like stagnant swamp water. We were told that adding sugar would cut down the bitterness, but it didn’t seem to help (how much sugar does it take??). We finally stopped subjecting ourselves to it. But I must say that it looks great when you see other people drinking it.


December 11, 2005 (Buenos Aires, Argentina)

Sean: We went and saw a soccer match today. The Boca Juniors took on Independiente for this second to last regular season match. It was wild. The Boca’s are in first place and the game was at home. What can you say but these people really love this sport. The game was sold out, but we managed to get a couple of general admission tickets. Packed to the gills, this section is where the rowdy football hooligans sit. The security was very tight with cops everywhere and we were patted down three times with our little backpack searched twice. These guys were humorless and didn’t mess around. I had just finished a book written by a former English soccer hooligan, so I was looking forward to some interesting fireworks, but alas, the police kept the opposing teams fans apart. So much so that we entered from different sides of the stadium and we had to wait a good half hour until their fans vacated the grounds after the match.

Shannon: We had been warned that sitting in the “local” section might be a little intense. But, having done it, I would say that I don’t regret doing it at least once. You really can’t imagine the passion these die-hard fans have for their teams until you sit with them. First, the local section doesn’t have any seats - it’s just large concrete steps with some strategically placed railings to lean against. Everyone stands for the duration of the game. We arrived about an hour before game time and the section was already packed. And I mean packed. Forget “aisles”. There are no aisles. Every available inch is occupied by a fan. And wherever you choose to stand, you’re there for the duration of the game - everyone is so tightly crammed together that there is absolutely no room to move. What amazed me were the poor vendors selling drinks or hot dogs. From our vantage point in the back, every once in a while we would see the crowd slightly part and a vendor would be disgorged near us. I don’t know where they were coming from or how they made it into the crowd, but they looked sweaty and exhausted when they came out.

As game time neared, the stadium went wild. The noise was unlike I’ve ever heard at a sporting event. Imagine thousands of fans chanting the same songs, jumping up and down in unison, moving their arms in the same rhythm. It was truly a sight to behold. As the game began, the fans threw small pieces of paper which then showered down on us, covering the spectators and the field. (I thought it might bother the players to have all that paper on the field but they didn’t seem to be fazed by it at all. At halftime a few guys with leaf blowers cleaned up the really egregious sections.) And the energy from the fans continued for the entire game. At one point I noticed that the stadium floor was actually vibrating because of all of us jumping in unison. Interesting sensation, to be sure.

Sean: I’ve never been one to follow sports, but it was fascinating to watch the intense fervor the locals felt for their players. The entire stadium was awash in the team colors, blue and yellow. And it was pretty hard to not be affected when, after you’ve watched the scoreless back and forth passing for about an hour, someone finally puts one into the net. It’s easy to get caught up in the excitement. Goals are really hard won in this sport, so when it does happen, “¡Dios Mio!”, plug your ears and watch out that you don’t get jubilantly punched in the back of the head with all of the arm waving. It resembles a mosh pit with everyone jumping up and down in unison and screaming at the tops of their lungs.

What’s even more amazing to me is that the whole world acts this way when it comes to soccer. We seem to be the only country on the planet that doesn’t go bat guano crazy for their local soccer teams (I’m only passively aware that we even have a pro league). Here in Argentina, the sports section is full of soccer news from not only around the country but from around the world. They equally follow the big leagues in England, Spain and Italy. I’m eagerly awaiting this summer’s world cup to cheer on the US team, which, from what I’ve gathered, is pretty good. Of course, after they get eliminated, being the red blooded American that I am, my attention will wane as fast as it did for Le Tour now that Lance has retired.


December 13, 2005 (Rosario, Argentina)

Sean: We spent a few days in Rosario, about 4 hours to the north west of the Capital, and the primary attraction in this hip town is the monument to their flag. It is amazingly huge. I can’t think of anything even comparable in the States for the Stars and Stripes. But honestly, even though it’s a pretty amazing monument, there’s really not much you can say about. It’s big, it’s made of concrete and it has all sorts of patriotic quotes and statures adorning it. I really wish I was inspired to write more about it, but alas…

Shannon: Rosario itself is a very pleasant city. We spent quite a bit of time walking through the streets and admiring the architecture. There is a large tree-lined boulevard running north/south through the middle of town that makes for a very pleasant stroll, along with several pedestrian streets and a beautiful park. We also spent quite a bit of time on the local buses - though it was quite unintentional. Arriving from Buenos Aires by bus late at night, we picked one of the local buses that listed “Centro” as a destination. It did get there eventually but not before we were treated to a lengthy tour of the southern suburbs. It was a trip that probably would have taken 15 minutes on another bus, but took us about an hour and a half. And then the next day, while trying to get to the local train station to check train times, we took another tour of the same southern suburbs, this time on a different bus. We can’t be blamed for this one, though, as our guidebook specifically told us to take that bus, but it never came anywhere near the train station. Another hour and a half later we ended up getting off almost exactly where we got on. (In the end we decided to take the bus back to Buenos Aires, as we knew how to get there and it seemed like less hassle.) So let’s just say that we saw quite a bit of the southern portions of Rosario.

Sean: We also went to a restaurant where they’re supposed to have really good paella (and it didn’t disappoint). The most interesting aspect of the dinner, though, was our ebullient waiter. He was very outgoing and funny and he promised to both speak in English and speak slower Spanish. He failed on both accounts, although I didn’t have too many problems understanding him. At the end of the meal he went into an impassioned plea for us to attend the local soccer team’s last match of the year. His love for Newell’s Old Boys (they’ve got some weird names), he explained, comes before his wife and kids. That’s dedication. Unfortunately, while they were the national champs last year, this season they find themselves at the exact opposite end of the league standings so finding a seat wouldn’t be nearly as hard as the sold-out-standing-room-only trip to Boca Juniors’ Bombonera (they call their stadium the Bon Bon Room).


December 14, 2005 (Rosario, Argentina)

Sean: Even though my soccer match curiosity had been satisfied, it’s always fun to see grown men break down and cry…so unfortunately, Newell’s Old Boys finished even lower than when they went into the game. The one-nothing loss was marked by some pretty lackluster playing leaving me to believe that the coach threw in his second and third stringers to finish the season. This time we actually bought real seats instead of general admission or popular (as that area is called in Spanish), but that section is where the truly passionate go to pay homage. This time, instead of being in the “passion,” we could watch it safely from afar…on the other side of the 15 foot high razor wired fencing. And again, the riot cops were out in full force to make sure the peace was kept, and again, yours truly didn’t get to witness any crazy soccer hooligan shenanigans. Sigh.

Shannon: It was nice to see the game from a different perspective. As Sean said, NOB wasn’t having a stellar year so the game wasn’t as well attended - at least in the “seats”. The local section with the die-hard fans was still packed solid. And while the rest of the stadium was still on their feet cheering for a good part of the game, it was nothing like the local section. From the relaxed safety of our seats it was great to see that section going crazy during the game. It was completely awash in the red and black of the team colors, there were the usual team songs, and there was lots of jumping and hand waving. And whenever that section went really crazy, the people near the razor wire fence separating us would bang on the fence for emphasis - adding to the crazy cacophony of sounds. It’s something to see, let me tell you. As the game was nearing its conclusion, the fans in the local section began lighting off fireworks, too. Never mind that we had all been patted down before entering the game and that fireworks are not allowed in the stadium - somehow some enterprising souls got them in. It was dark by this point and the lights and the smoke from the fireworks just added to the fervor from the stands.


December 18, 2005 (Buenos Aires, Argentina)

Sean: The Argentines love Queen. You’d think they were coming in February instead of the Rolling Stones with the amount of memorabilia and selection of CDs and DVDs in every music shop. We’ve walked by many a TV/stereo store with a Queen video playing on the monitors facing the street so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they’ve got a really good tribute band that packs the house every time they play. We read about their upcoming show in the paper and managed to get a couple of seats for last night’s performance (incidentally the guy at the box office who sold us the tickets was super, super excited to be chatting with real live United States-ians. I was more than happy to oblige his curiosities as these last couple of weeks I’ve been adapting well to the Argentine dialect). But back to “Dios Salve a la Reina” (God Save the Queen, as they call themselves): being a huge fan of the original versions of all the songs they played, I’m probably not the most objective observer. I own the majority of Queen’s studio albums and also am in possession of some really cool bootlegs (don’t be jealous). Sure I could pick on the fact that the drums and bass were too loud, drowning out Freddie and Brian (err…Pablo and Francisco), or that the enunciation of the lyrics I know by heart weren’t perfect, but I have to admit that the Argentine Freddie had the moves and the look down pat. Unless you were some music geek you never would’ve caught his missteps with the words (he was, after all, singing in another language). Although it was really weird to hear him belt out the songs as Freddie Mercury then chat with the crowd in flawless Argentine Spanish.

Before the show we splurged and went to a very posh Churrascaria. For those unfamiliar with the name, they’re fairly popular in the states with most major cities having at least one of these types of fancy, all-you-can-eat steak places (the only other time I’d been to one was with my UNO mates when we went to the SNAME convention in Washington, D.C.). They all seem to be the same with a pretty extensive salad/food bar but the highlight is the waiters who come around with skewers of meat and slice you off generous hunks right at your table. The secret, I was informed (thanks, Marcos) is to not fill up at the salad bar with all the cheesy and breaded things. Following that plan worked very well for me as I felt myself slipping into a protein coma while walking out of the restaurant. It must be stated that they love beef here and they do it very, very well. How can you not enjoy a country that treasures its meat and sausages as much as they do? The price tag for this fancy, linen table clothed, tony part of town, lots of free flowing wine, multi-coursed meat extravaganza? We walked out the door with my wallet a scant US$40 lighter. We could live here for a very long time.

Shannon: Today Sean and I went to an attraction here in Buenos Aires called Tierra Santa, which bills itself as the world’s first religious theme park. It basically covers all of the important events in the Christian faith, rendered with full-scale figures and no small amount of kitschy interpretation. The park itself is meant to replicate the look of the Holy Land circa the Jesus years - complete with fake adobe buildings, sandy streets, workers dressed in full Middle Eastern garb and fiberglass figures representing scenes from the bible. The layout is a bit haphazard but it’s pretty much all there: the creation of the world (soundtrack by Enya!), the nativity (a sound and light spectacular!), the last supper (with animatronic Jesus!), and finally the resurrection of Christ (16 times a day!). There’s Moses liberating the slaves of Egypt, Jesus curing the sick, the betrayal by Judas, the Stations of the Cross, the Crucifixion…It even has a replica of the Wailing Wall, complete with fiberglass figures prostrate and weeping. And in case all that doesn’t spell F-U-N, there are music and dance shows and lots of food to eat at places like Noah’s Ark and the Baghdad Café. Walking around, you want to laugh because it’s just so cheesy, but at the same time it’s nothing if not earnest.


December 20, 2005 (Buenos Aires)

Sean: These last few days have been spent finishing our sightseeing, preparing for Christmas with our families back home, and shoving every little last bit of Argentine culture down our throats before we say “chau” to this hemisphere. Our very final cultural excursion was to last night’s tango show at the Buenos Aires landmark, Café Tortoni. The show started at 10:30pm (everything happens much later here) and was very good. As a jaded traveler, I have to admit that it was nice to see a lot of Argentines at the performance as I’ve been growing weary of consuming “native” cultures only to find out that it’s really only for the tourists. It’s the same everywhere I guess. How many Hawaiians really hula if it’s not associated with the tourist trade? But I was talking about the tango show. Man, can those people move! Not only are they very limber to be contorting their bodies in all sorts of crazy dance steps, but they can do it very fast. At times it was just a blur of legs-a-flyin’. The band they had playing was really good as well. It was these three old guys sitting on stage (piano, accordion and bass guitar), and they effortlessly whipped up the passionate music for the dancers.

Another last bit of culture that I really loved (and Shannon mentioned earlier) is the Porteño breakfast of coffee with milk and medialunas (literally translated as “half moons”). They go in for other sweet pastries as well, but for me those are too, too sugary for breakfast. But the coffee is something they make very, very well here. It’s a serious staple of their diet and most cafes have espresso machines (no drip or instant for these people. Most of the McDonalds’ we’ve seen have little so called “McCafes” located in them that would put many Starbucks to shame). Needless to say, I’ve been hopped up on caffeine these past three weeks drinking multiple cups each day, it’s no wonder we’ve adapted so well to late schedules of these city dwellers.

Shannon: While Sean is mentioning food, I want to add a word or two about salads. We’ve been eating so many tan foods these days (all those pastries, empanadas and other bread products) that it’s a nice relief to eat some vegetables once in a while. What makes a salad different in Buenos Aires, though, is that you don’t necessarily get lettuce unless it is specifically mentioned in the list of ingredients. If the menu lists a salad with carrots, tomatoes and mushrooms, that’s exactly what you get - those three vegetables, never mixed together, but neatly segregated into three equal portions. And if you do order a salad with lettuce, it isn’t a “base” for the other vegetables like it is in the United States - it will occupy its own section, in equal proportions to the other vegetables. It’s actually kind of nice - you don’t just get a lot of crappy iceberg lettuce with a dribble of vegetables as you sometimes do in the States. And, at least in the places we visited, they tend to use a lot of palm hearts in their salads. Not a vegetable I use very often back home, but very tasty. I’ll have to remind myself to buy them more often when we get home.

One annoying thing we have encountered in restaurants, however, is the occasional charge for “table service” (especially confusing when the establishment you’re in does not appear to have anything other than table service). I haven’t figured out the rhyme or reason to when this charge is applied (we’ve encountered it in cafes as well as nicer restaurants) and perhaps something gets lost in the translation, but it is just a tiny bit irritating. Sometimes it is just a small amount - 1 peso per person - but we’ve paid as much as 6 pesos for this. Granted, with the exchange rate that still isn’t much to us, but it seems to be so arbitrarily applied that it appears like it’s just an extra fee the restaurant decided to charge. And since I don’t think the money is going to wait staff, I wonder why they don’t just wrap this cost into the cost of the food?...


December 22, 2005 (Spokane, Washington)

Sean: We’re back in the States for a short respite from our demanding lives as world travelers and are looking forward to seeing our families for the holidays. We want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Look for us in the New Year as we begin our travels anew in the Middle East!

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Photos

Christmas - Argentine Style
They actually call Santa "El Gordo de Navidad" or The Fat Man of Christmas

Art Nouveau at its Finest
This style of painting was quite prevalent.

Roquefort and Ham Empanada
This is absolute heaven wrapped in warm bready goodness.

Tea and Medialunas
Note the civilizing cups of seltzer water and the tea cookies.

Puerto Madero
In the background is "The Bridge of the Woman" designed by one of our favorite architect/engineers, Santiago Calatrava. If you are interested in seeing one of his best works in the United States, check out the Milwaukee Art Museum at www.mam.org

Juan and Eva
The happy couple

Casa Rosada
The "Pink House". It is from the balconies on this building that Juan and Eva stirred the crowds.

Street Art
Along with tango shows, bands and magicians, these type of street performers are very prevalent.

Argentine Graffiti
"Bush Get Out of Argentina". We found street graffiti like this all over. A few weeks before we arrived Bush had been in Argentina for the 4th Summit of the Americas. Rioting and protests ensued.

Mar del Plata Beaches
Notice the empty beach cabanas. Good thing we beat the crowds.

Sea Lions
We braved the smell so that you don't have to.

Yerba Mate
Even though it looks like such fun when you see people sharing it, don't be fooled. It tastes like crap.

Colorful Boca...
Aside from making the pilgrimage to watch the Boca Juniors play, many people head to the suburb of La Boca for its festive atmosphere. Boca is known for its vibrantly colored painted metal buildings and the excellent weekend street fair.

...And all of it's tourist shops
Caminito Street is ground zero for tacky tourist knick-knacks.

Monument to the Flag
Celebrating all things Argentine.

If you think he has a swollen head now...
Imagine seeing your name in 2 foot high letters on the National Flag Memorial.

Beautiful Rosario buildings
Like all of the cities we visited in Argentina, beautiful buildings were in abundant supply.

Meat on a Stick
Amazing beef in Argentina - tender, juicy and flavorful.

Christ is Risen!
16 Times a Day!

Ensalada
Every ingredient is given equal representation

The Canals of Tigre
We didn't talk about our day trip to Tigre, but it was beautiful. Billed as the "Venice of South America", it is a northern suburb of Buenos Aires situated on the delta of the Parana River. Nice little canals weave their way through the town and residents use their boats as the primary way of getting around.

Comments

[milon]

oh ! very good
oh argentina country is a very beautiful county.