This week Buenos Aires got to be too much for me. I couldn't stand the dirt cheap prices, the friendly people, the beautiful women, and the warm weather. I remembered that I could be sitting around in NY, overpaying for the honor of sitting in a crowded bar that's charging 5 dollars to check your coat. But still, the grass is always greener, so we set out to Mendoza, Argentina, to go check out if things could conceivably get better than Buenos Aires.
The bus ride had a couple of good points. The chairs reclined to a 120 degree angle (I didn't make that up, that was the number they gave us, we got in a lot of arguments about what exactly the angle was). They served us champagne, hot food, and played us a movie. It also had a couple of bad points. The hot food was absolutely horrible. They found a way to work ham and mayonnaise into every single thing on the plate. One of the platters was sliced roast beef topped with mayonnaise. Another was a cake, literally cake batter, sandwhiched over a piece of ham, with tomatoes on top. It was beyond disgusting. I was paid pesos to try certain things. I ate an egg filled with mayonnaise, but the person who dared me never payed up. Typical. But the food wasn't the worst part. If you don't like the food on a trip, don't eat it, it's not mandatory. It was mandatory however that during dinner they played 7 music videos from 80's movies on repeat. The playlist was some Phil Collins song (not one of the good ones), A Righteous Brothers song from the movie Ghost, that Carpenter's song about bird's suddenly appearing, and "Lady in Red". I wanted to kill myself before we even got around the rotation once, and when we weren't sleeping that's pretty much all they played.
But as promised the bus dropped us in Mendoza, where the real fun began. Mendoza is incredible. Just like the Napa Valley, nice dry heat, trees everywhere, mountains in the background, and vineyards everywhere. We hit the pool, and then immediately booked a wine tour. We were taken around a vineyard, shown how they crush the grapes, how they ferment it, and how they store it in casks. Only after you understood the process were you then allowed to sample the wine. We learned how to swirl the glasses, check for tears, analyze the color, and spit out a bunch of pretentious bullshit about what kind of nose and aftertone the wine had. At one point the woman literally told us that one of the wines we were tasting had the flavor of red fruit. Not one specific fruit, like strawberries, or a combination like raspberries and persimmon, but literally every red fruit that exists. I was dumbfounded, but I took her word for it. We were on the tour with these Irish girls who clearly had no intention of actually trying to learn about wine, and were just trying to get hammered (or locked in their lingo). They were cool, but I was unimpressed because they failed to get locked, while I obviously must have gotten locked because I bought a bottle of wine in the gift shop afterwards.
That night we headed out to a restaurant, and put all our new wine tasting expertise to the test. Then for my friend's birthday we put our red bull and vodka expertise to the test.
The next morning we got up and signed up for a river rafting trip down the Mendoza river. It's a fast river but the rapids are pretty unimpressive, at least from this seasoned whitewater expert's point of view. But it was nevertheless a great time. Easily the best part was that we didn't have to sign one piece of paper the entire time. In the US you would have had to sign 15 waivers, turned over credit cards and driver's licenses, and update your will. Here we just gave some guy in a van money and he drove us out to the river and put us on a boat.
We went out to dinner at one of the nicest restaurant's in the city. We talked about the merits of the wine, and the demerits of the fact that the waiter didn't bring us about half our order. The owner came over and to make up for it told us that even though there were people waiting, the table was ours for as long as we wanted it. Without food we weren't really sure what we were supposed to do with a table, so we ended up leaving. I know, I know, I'm kicking myself now for not taking more advantage of sitting at a table as long as I wanted.
Final note. The bus ride back had the exact same music videos. And even worse food. They served us champagne on the bus ride, and all anyone did was complain about the poor quality of it. It's amazing what one week in Mendoza can do. Seven weeks ago I'm sitting in a bar in Berkeley ordering PBR because it's the cheapest thing on the menu. I spend a weekend in Mendoza, and suddenly I'm upset because the wine I'm drinking doesn't have the subtle overtones and heady finish that I was expecting. At least it tasted of red fruit.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
I haven't posted much lately because for the most part I've just been settling into the routine. Things that once made a big impression on me here now have much less of an effect. I still notice the little things, but I don't consider them to be curiousities now, I consider them a part of my life. Things that were once different for me are now not. Now it's the things I remember from the United States that seem different to me
Not to say I'm a porteno yet. Far from it. But the reality is that I no longer live in New York, or Oakland.
Yesterday I was walking over to a hotel near my house to meet a friend from New York. I walked through the park near my house, over to the hotel, less than 5 minutes away. As I was walking through the park a group of kids saw my wallet hanging out of my pants and surrounded me. They asked for some money, and I told them I didn't have any, which was true. They asked for my wallet, and I explained to them that they couldn't do anything with any of the cards, so it wasn't worth it. They understood that, so they asked for money again. I told them I didn't have any, but one of the kids still wasn't happy, so he opened up his backpack to show me his knife.
I wish I could say I did the smart thing, but instinct just took over. I delivered a lightning fast karate chop to his neck, disarmed him Steven Seagal style, and then smashed his friends heads together. The fourth kid took off running, but I hunted him down, came up behind him, and put him to sleep with an expertly placed headlock. Once I had caught my breath and washed the blood from my hands, I continued on my way, leaving the administrative work to the police.
No I'm kidding. I saw the knife, realized I had 5 american dollars in my wallet, and immediately handed it over. That was enough, and they let me go on my way.
To sum it all up, yesterday I stared mortal danger in the face, eye to eye, and then payed it 5 dollars to leave me alone. But I learned my lesson, and when I told the story to my host mom, she told me it was a cheap lesson at that. I feel like a little kid avoiding bullies by taking the long way home, but that's just one of those realities of being in a city you're starting to get comfortable in, but still don't really understand that well at all.
Not to say I'm a porteno yet. Far from it. But the reality is that I no longer live in New York, or Oakland.
Yesterday I was walking over to a hotel near my house to meet a friend from New York. I walked through the park near my house, over to the hotel, less than 5 minutes away. As I was walking through the park a group of kids saw my wallet hanging out of my pants and surrounded me. They asked for some money, and I told them I didn't have any, which was true. They asked for my wallet, and I explained to them that they couldn't do anything with any of the cards, so it wasn't worth it. They understood that, so they asked for money again. I told them I didn't have any, but one of the kids still wasn't happy, so he opened up his backpack to show me his knife.
I wish I could say I did the smart thing, but instinct just took over. I delivered a lightning fast karate chop to his neck, disarmed him Steven Seagal style, and then smashed his friends heads together. The fourth kid took off running, but I hunted him down, came up behind him, and put him to sleep with an expertly placed headlock. Once I had caught my breath and washed the blood from my hands, I continued on my way, leaving the administrative work to the police.
No I'm kidding. I saw the knife, realized I had 5 american dollars in my wallet, and immediately handed it over. That was enough, and they let me go on my way.
To sum it all up, yesterday I stared mortal danger in the face, eye to eye, and then payed it 5 dollars to leave me alone. But I learned my lesson, and when I told the story to my host mom, she told me it was a cheap lesson at that. I feel like a little kid avoiding bullies by taking the long way home, but that's just one of those realities of being in a city you're starting to get comfortable in, but still don't really understand that well at all.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
My life up until now
It's been a while, so I thought I'd update everyone on some of my adventures. I went to Gualeguachu this weekend for Carneval, and boy did I have a time. I danced on a beach till 6 in the morning. I watched a parade that combined eastern religious symbols like massive buddhas with women dressed in thongs and postage stamps for bras.
I played a game of pool with a crazy guy named Federico. He was really good, but I turned in the pool game of my life, and was somehow up on him, until he decided that he got to have two turns in a row. He talked really fast in Spanish until I got exasperated and just let him have it. I regained the lead, but then he made up another rule about how you can only sink the 8-ball into the pocket in which you sank the last ball. After making that rule up he promptly scratched on the 8-ball. He didn't seem upset however, he just kept telling me that it was all about respect. I told him that I really respected him (I didn't, his rules were bullshit), but that was good enough for him.
But I really wanted to hip you guys to some stuff about life in Argentina. It's not a complete list but I wanna try and hit the main points.
-Beer costs 10 pesos for a liter bottle. That's about $3.50, and a liter here is like a 40.
-You order a coffee, for 7 pesos, and they give you sugar, milk, a plate of cookies, and a small glass of water. It's a small meal.
-Just like in NY, there are 4 ESPN channels here, except they all show soccer. When there's no soccer to show they show highlights of NBA games but only of teams that have an Argentine player. That means the Rockets and the Spurs.
-I have yet to meet someone who likes Christina Fernandez Kirchner. But I'm not sure if that's just because I'm only hanging out with rich people, or if she's really that unpopular.
-Everyone likes Obama here. We had a taxi driver last week who figured out we were American and then yelled "OBAMA, OBAMA." We messed with him and told him we voted for McCain, and he got pretty upset.
-There aren't any black people here. None. The word negro, as in black, actually refers to poor people, not skin color.
-I've seen some of the most appalling poverty here I've ever seen in my life. When you go out for a walk, and you see 4 year olds digging through a trash heap, it really makes you feel like shit. When you see little kids who don't get to have a childhood, and who instead are forced to wander around plazas at 5 in the morning trying to sell flowers, it's hard to think about all the great benefits of the IMF.
-There are no coins in this entire city. They are actually experiencing a moneda crisis. Yesterday, I ordered a coffee that was 6.25. Instead of giving me the change the cashier just rounded it down to 6 pesos, and gave me 4 back in bills. I was excited about that, but this morning when I woke up, I was 50 centavos short for the bus fare, which you can only pay in coins. Because of that discount at the coffee shop I couldn't take the bus, and had to take an 11 peso cab instead.
-All anyone eats here is beef. I've literally had days where I've had a hamburger for lunch, some sort of beef pie for dinner, and then a steak as a late night snack. We made the mistake of telling our mom that we like steak, and she's been making us something beef related every night. They're not a salad eating people, which I respect.
-They also like pasta, but if you get the cream sauce they'll give you this stuff that is basically straight cream. It's not good.
-The Argentines claim they don't speak Spanish, they speak Castellano. It's like Spanish but with crappy grammar and they made up a bunch of words and pronounce things funny.
-Traffic is insane. There are no lanes, but everyone just seems to manage somehow.
-Every chance they get Argentines will remind you that you are an American, and thus everything is very cheap for you. They don't mean to be rude, they just want you to know that while you're celebrating the 3.50:1 exchange rate they're not feeling it so much.
-They love to talk. Yesterday, meeting my friend outside of his building, we accidentally engaged his doorman in a 30 minute conversation. The conversation started with him warning us not to run because it would rain soon. It reached its crescendo when he took his shirt off to show us his scar from open heart surgery, and explain to us why it was good that we ran. It culminated with us reminding him that had we started 30 minutes before it probably wouldn't have rained but after this conversation we were definitely going to get caught in a downpour.
-It's a Catholic country, but Diego Maradona is God. ESPN 2 literally has a report every time he sneezes.
More when it comes to me,
Alex
I played a game of pool with a crazy guy named Federico. He was really good, but I turned in the pool game of my life, and was somehow up on him, until he decided that he got to have two turns in a row. He talked really fast in Spanish until I got exasperated and just let him have it. I regained the lead, but then he made up another rule about how you can only sink the 8-ball into the pocket in which you sank the last ball. After making that rule up he promptly scratched on the 8-ball. He didn't seem upset however, he just kept telling me that it was all about respect. I told him that I really respected him (I didn't, his rules were bullshit), but that was good enough for him.
But I really wanted to hip you guys to some stuff about life in Argentina. It's not a complete list but I wanna try and hit the main points.
-Beer costs 10 pesos for a liter bottle. That's about $3.50, and a liter here is like a 40.
-You order a coffee, for 7 pesos, and they give you sugar, milk, a plate of cookies, and a small glass of water. It's a small meal.
-Just like in NY, there are 4 ESPN channels here, except they all show soccer. When there's no soccer to show they show highlights of NBA games but only of teams that have an Argentine player. That means the Rockets and the Spurs.
-I have yet to meet someone who likes Christina Fernandez Kirchner. But I'm not sure if that's just because I'm only hanging out with rich people, or if she's really that unpopular.
-Everyone likes Obama here. We had a taxi driver last week who figured out we were American and then yelled "OBAMA, OBAMA." We messed with him and told him we voted for McCain, and he got pretty upset.
-There aren't any black people here. None. The word negro, as in black, actually refers to poor people, not skin color.
-I've seen some of the most appalling poverty here I've ever seen in my life. When you go out for a walk, and you see 4 year olds digging through a trash heap, it really makes you feel like shit. When you see little kids who don't get to have a childhood, and who instead are forced to wander around plazas at 5 in the morning trying to sell flowers, it's hard to think about all the great benefits of the IMF.
-There are no coins in this entire city. They are actually experiencing a moneda crisis. Yesterday, I ordered a coffee that was 6.25. Instead of giving me the change the cashier just rounded it down to 6 pesos, and gave me 4 back in bills. I was excited about that, but this morning when I woke up, I was 50 centavos short for the bus fare, which you can only pay in coins. Because of that discount at the coffee shop I couldn't take the bus, and had to take an 11 peso cab instead.
-All anyone eats here is beef. I've literally had days where I've had a hamburger for lunch, some sort of beef pie for dinner, and then a steak as a late night snack. We made the mistake of telling our mom that we like steak, and she's been making us something beef related every night. They're not a salad eating people, which I respect.
-They also like pasta, but if you get the cream sauce they'll give you this stuff that is basically straight cream. It's not good.
-The Argentines claim they don't speak Spanish, they speak Castellano. It's like Spanish but with crappy grammar and they made up a bunch of words and pronounce things funny.
-Traffic is insane. There are no lanes, but everyone just seems to manage somehow.
-Every chance they get Argentines will remind you that you are an American, and thus everything is very cheap for you. They don't mean to be rude, they just want you to know that while you're celebrating the 3.50:1 exchange rate they're not feeling it so much.
-They love to talk. Yesterday, meeting my friend outside of his building, we accidentally engaged his doorman in a 30 minute conversation. The conversation started with him warning us not to run because it would rain soon. It reached its crescendo when he took his shirt off to show us his scar from open heart surgery, and explain to us why it was good that we ran. It culminated with us reminding him that had we started 30 minutes before it probably wouldn't have rained but after this conversation we were definitely going to get caught in a downpour.
-It's a Catholic country, but Diego Maradona is God. ESPN 2 literally has a report every time he sneezes.
More when it comes to me,
Alex
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