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Before the Fall
Justin when the match was still all Argentina After our wonderful flight on Iberia and a quick dinner, we awoke from an early night somewhat refreshed. In the whirlwind of Europe, we hadn´t given our South American plans much thought, and with Argentina still in the World Cup mix, several contingincies presented themselves. Thus, the first day in Argentina became somewhat about business and errands. However, we decided to walk from office to office in order to see the city better. Vendors of World Cup merchandise, wide boulevards, walking malls, large sculptures and monuments, even some sort of rally for transexuals - we got to see the central part of the city pretty well.
After taking care of business, we headed to a nearby parrilla,
El Desnivel (we´d already gone to one for lunch). In this part of the world, parrillas are as popular as hot dog stands in Chicago. What is a parrilla, you ask? Basically, it´s a restaurant featuring an extremely large fire on which sits any kind of meat you can imagine. Steaks, pork chops, sausages, chicken, all can be whisked from an open flame to your seat in a matter of minutes. Given that two people can eat a pile of meat for about $10,
I Want One
You have no idea how much trouble Justin is in for this joke we´ve become quite familiar with them. And did we mention they only sell beer by the liter?
The next day, we woke up, pulled on every piece of blue clothing we owned (Justin bought a knockoff Crespo jersey on the street the day before), and went to find a place to watch the Argentina/Germany quarterfinal. We were able to get a table at San Francisco, a place near the Plaza de Mayo downtown. At first, watching the game was fairly quiet, more like France than anywhere else. However, it stemmed from a different source. Instead of diffidence, it was simply fear. Argentina has had a rough run in its recent history, from one of the richest countries in the world, to one of shakiest economies in South America. When Chris was in Peru six years ago, people stayed away from visiting because it was so expensive-now it´s a backpacker´s dream. Argentinians simply can´t afford to get their hopes up anymore-Justin was at home, as it was like watching with a room full of Cubs fans. Things looked good for a while, but after the Argentinians scored around the fiftieth minute, they started playing defensively, which inevitably caught up with
Oh great, more meat
Chris at the Mercado del Puerto in Montevideo them. We started out wanted a victory mainly for the party after. However, by the time of the shootout, we were unbelievably tense, as we really felt for our fellow patrons. When they lost, it was a 2003 Game 6 moment-probably the saddest moment of the trip.
After a cathartic nap, we headed out to Palermo, an upscale neighborhood to the north of downtown. We ate our first Mexican meal in a while, and were able to catch a glimpse of some flaminco dancing, which we missed in Spain. The area was a bit too Lincoln Park for us after a while, so we headed back to San Telmo, a Wicker Parkish neighborhood where we were staying. It is a lively area, filled with clubs and restaurants, drawing a fairly arty crowd. We grabbed a drink at
Gibralter . Unfortunately, we had to be up early to catch a boat.
The capital of Uruguay, Montevideo, is right across the Rio de la Plata, so we grabbed the three hour ferry to check it out. Much smaller and quieter than Buenos Aires, it also shows the effect of recent economic collapse. We arrived in time to head to the weekly
Blurry Band
The late night scene at Fun Fun in Montevideo Saturday market at Mercado del Puerto, a big building made up of parrillas, which was filled with a noisy, fun crowd. Afterwards, we watched France beat Brazil, which made Justin particularly happy, because now he wasn´t going to think of what we were missing with every Brazil match. Since our bodies couldn´t take any more beef, we grabbed a pizza for dinner. Then we headed to Fun Fun for some tango. A truly terrible name, we know, but we were lucky to grab the last table and catch some great music. A tango club around here is similiar to a jazz club in Chicago, with lots of smoke, conversation, and old, wisened musicians.
We couldn´t only see one place in Uruguay, so we grabbed the bus to Colonia de Montevideo on Sunday. A UNESCO-tapped old town (we swear we didn´t know until we arrived), it suffered a bit for the overcast weather. They´ve done a great job of exploiting their strengths, setting up a series of small museums you can wander between to see the old town. We saw The Da Vinci Code in a tiny attic theatre (terrible movie, great atmosphere). And we ate a couple of great
Lars was Right
Irony on the streets of Montevideo meals. We got the catch of the day at El Drugstore, a quirky, arty cafe that featured a car outside with trees growing out of it, and a kitchen in the middle of the dining room. And we got a Chivito for dinner Sunday night (Justin had already had one for lunch). The national dish of Uruguay (that´s what they tell tourists, at least), it is a steak covered with cheese, ham, bacon and mayonnaise. Add in the fact that the ¨national drink¨is grappa with honey, and you have a recipe for Zanatta expatriatehood.
After a one-hour ferry back to Buenos Aires, we headed directly to the bus station for the 16-hour ride to Puerto Iguazu, the Argentina town near Iguazu Falls, which we´re going to tomorrow. Because the price difference wasn´t great, we splurged for the coche cama, basically a seat that extends into a bed. It also comes with a steward, who serves you meals and drinks. It´s like being on an airplane. We even got movies-although the fact that Big Momma´s House 2 was the one we´d choose to see again if forced should tell you something of the quality.
After getting in mid-afternoon and
Happy 4th of July
The sad part is that the Brazilian artist isn´t that far off dropping our bags, we went to the bus station to figure out our plans. We had written off Brazil, having been told we needed a visa at the embassy, and having heard tales from friends about being turned back at the border. At the station, however, a minibus driver told us we could drive right past Brazilian immigration, so we took him up on his offer. Sure enough, we were able to stop only at the Argentinian authorities, and ended up in Fox do Iguazu, the Brazilian border town. Because we didn´t have much time to safely head back, we couldn´t get to the Brazilian side of the Falls. We tried to find a churrascaria, but the only one open in mid-afternoon was totally empty and a bit creepy. We settled for a pork sandwich and some sort of delicious fried chocolate pastry. We breathed a sigh of relief as the same driver drove through the Brazilian checkpoint, satisfied that we hadn´t been shut out by some stupid rule-at least Justin was, Chris thought the whole exercise kind of silly. But when we realized upon returing it was July 4, we knew that we had struck a blow for freedom
Fill ´Er Up
A street vendor fills up a churro in Fox do Iguazu that would ring from the purple mountains majesty to the amber waves of grain. We just hope the troops will use our example to fortify themselves for the tough days ahead.
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Joel
non-member comment
Who ate all the pies???
What are you doing wearing an Argentina shirt you filthy scumbag?? Haha! Only jesting! Hope all's good. Looks like you guys are still having a wicked time. We finally made it to china minus a few items of clothing and some dignity - but we made it.Keep on keeping on, Peace, Joel.