Es Para Vos

Coming to Argentina as a footbal fan, I had prior knowledge of how big the sport is in this country. I had to check out a game. But which team? Argentina has dozens of clubs. Furthermore, because buenos Aires has two HUGE rival clubs, I had to pick.

BOCA JUNIORS, or the team Maradona played for has won six Copas Libertadores (one of the South American championships). based out of a barrio near the docks, the original club members painted their jerseys and clubs and houses with leftover ship paint (blue and gold). Today this club is an international fixture in Futbol and is considered one of the world's best.

RIVER PLATE, Boca's chief rival, is based out of the Núñez, is their chief rival. They are of equal renown in the world and have won two Copas Libertadores. Their most famous player is Enzo Francescoli, o el Príncipe (prince). Playing in the '86 and '90 World Cups for Uruguay as well, Francescoli won River Plate the Copa Libertadores in 1996. French footballer Zenadine Zidane even named a son after him.

Nicholas, the owner of our hostel, offered to get us tickets, so I accepted. When I found out that he was going to charge us one hundrd and fifty pesos, I quietly changed my mind. I didn't want to spend fifty dollars on a futbol game. I could do better. So I went to Emanuel about my problem. His friend Holli (with whom we went to the parilla) took us to the River Plate stadium and we bought tickets for sixty pesos instead. Yeah, I like that price a lot better too. But I suppose you can't blame a guy for being opportunistic.


Our game last night started at nine thirty. Wind changes had pushed the wild fire smoke back into the city, so the game was pitched against a city wide haze. The other side of the stadium was even difficult to see. No matter, River Plate took to the field against San Martin, a Peruvian team, that had to win or was out of the Copa Libertadores.

Eighty some minutes later, River's five goals sealed the fate of a scoreless oponent. Coimpletely dominating, Emanuel said it was a baile for the team they were having such an easy time. In Peru, something that is easy is called Papaya, though they didn't say this tonight. Peruvians usually don't travel all the way to Argentina for futbol games, so the stadium wasa not half full. Barras, or chants were still the rage though. Everytime river scored, all its fans would chant-

Es para vos, es para vos, bostero puto puta que te parió! I don't know, I'd rather you translate it yourself.

The funny thing about chants with River is that they are usually not to support theteam. Rather, the chants are to disparage Boca. Not any other team, just Boca. And when it is another team, fine. Those chants will do to.

Caramel Apple Dopplegangers

Aside from nearly getting carjacked, I've been quite busy in Buenos Aires. Besides registering for classes three thousand miles away, I've ridden my first subway. Coming back from the city center felt like riding in a Cusqueño combi bus. I've visited the Casa Rosada. Basically the historical white house of Argentina, I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Madonna serenading her people. Inside was a presidential museum. While watching a video, Lenay's schedule caught up with her and she fell asleep, exhausted from traveling.

We visited the zoo yesterday. Inside the Polar Bear was absolutely frightened of its poolside reflection, twitching constantly. Snow leopards were restlessly pacing, and the resident indian elephant just stared at the wall of its cage. It made me a little sad. Zoos.

We walked to the San Telmo barrio. There are most likely fifty antique stores in the vicinity, witha as many tango dancers outside, doing their thing. Lenay found some clothes boutiques. Who doesn't like having their own Argentinian wardrobe, I suppose. The buildings there are beautiful, treelined, terraced apartment buildings, in the old style.

Aside forom the cat garden in Palermo, Manu took us to an empanada restaurant in Palermo. I recommend the choclo empanadas. They're pretty much the best thing that happened to South America. To hell with those caramel apple dopplegangers at taco bell...

We were walking in the Plaza de Mayo one night, and there was a protest. La Manifestación was fighting for workers' wages, and the Malvinas war of '82. It covered several´parts of the plaza. Additionally, Orange vested police officers lined the sidewalks, just waiting for...something. Manu tells me all of the cops here are corrupt, and will accept bribes for just about anything. It makes me feel lucky.

Says Forro to All Carjackers

Buenos Aires. What more can be said? I'm sitting at the computer in my hostel on Godoy Cruz street in Palermo. It's eleven in the morning and I've hardly gotten out of bed, because my late nights have been dominating my schedule. Last night my friends Emanuel and Paulie took us to a parilla. It's a restaurant that specializes in beef. Grilled argentinian meat.

I was taken to the upper balcony of the restaurant where pebbles lined the floor, and tealights left the dining room in a dim haze. Earlier in the day, a conflagration forty miles deep in the countryside had cast an unnatural smoky haze throughout the city. Amidst the ethereal ambience, I was led to a butcher paper covered table, complete with crayolas of various sizes. Immediately I set to work on a River Plate Logo, in anticipation of our Libertadores game tomorrow.

I was sipping some vino tinto when our waitress brought the orders. My plate was honestly the size of a stop sign. Aside from the medium rare sitting near the bottom, there was an assortment of culinary goodies awaiting ravenous consumption. Squash puree, roasted red pepper, roasted provologne, roasted onion, and a fried egg sitting atop an unhealthy mound of french fries stared me down in the longest predinner standoff I've had. The chef had issued the challenge, and now it was sitting beneath me. After taking a long swallow of wine, I set my glass down and set to work. It was, without a doubt, the most quiet meal I've had in months.

An hour later, with the dishwasher's work done for him, and the wine bottle dripped dry, We climbed into Paulie's Peugot and left. To exhausted from the week to go out, Paulie drove us down Avenida Santa Fe, to bring us back to the hostel. Turning onto Manu's street, the way became blocked by a garbage truck. Out of nowhere, this crazy man runs up to my door, grabs the handle, and me a rabid look. I was captivated by these insane pupils, while viciously he tied to rip our door open. Unsuccessful, he went to Lenay's door and tried again. Insanity overpowering deduction, he returned to my door and grabbed the handle.

Snapped out of the trance, I break into my spanish, shouting every Ecuadorian, Peruvian and Argentine curse that I had been learning for this one moment. I don't know if the man had even registered the finger flashing in his face, he just ran off, leaving as quickly as he came.

Bienvenidos a Buenos

Lenay and I spent an hour to get to Lima. At the airport, I exchanged my remaining nuevo soles for american dollars. At 10.25 our flight took off, taking us over the Andes to Argentina and its jewel of a city. Lenay and I sat in row twenty six of our TACA flight. That means back of the plane, next to the bathrooms, and no reclining. Most uncomfortable chair of my life.

Our time zones jumped ahead two hours, and we landed in Buenos Aires at 4.30. The international airport is very removed from the city proper, so we shelled out eighty argentinian pesos to take a forty minute cab ride to the city. Upon recieving advice from a friend, Lenay instructed the driver to take us to PALERMO, one of the many barrios inside of the city. We found lodging at Hostel Nativo, blocks away from Avenida Santa Fe, one of the many busy avenues in the capital. Divided into dseveral neighborhoods, Palermo offers a diverse array of excursions. blocks away from my hostel is Palermo Soho, a rather bohemian neighborhood famous for the fashion, gastronomy and sawnky culture. Palermo Holywood is where all of the hip bars are located. A friend suggested LocoXFutbol. We'll be doing the traditional party until eight in the morning on thursday evening.

Through her massive red bull network, Lenay hooked us up with our new friend Emanuel, who also works for the company. Sunday night while Lenay an d I were grabbing some pizza on Santa Fe, he left us two red bulls and a map of the city. Monday morning I got a tour of Palermo Soho, his eleventh story apartment with a view of the botanical garden. This garden is special for more than its plethora of naked statues. Cats. Lots of cats, by the hundreds, live in this beautiful piece of greenspace. I was absolutely shocked, because in the rest of Latin America I'm just seeing vagrant dogs wandering the streets. As I passed through the park I noticed that the felines follow the old ladies, because those are the people that feed the creatures. Fascinating.

To comment on my initial reaction, I would have to say that shock was initial. Buenos Aires is a very different city from Cusco. I've never been to Europe, so that analogy will not be made here. What I can say though, is that I haven't been walking beneath skyscrapers, amidst all of the greenspace and parilladas. Since arriving, Lenay seems to be hypnotized by the dozens of bohemian boutiques lining the side walks. This city is enormous, with it's massive avenues and elegant buildings. Simply, it is one of the most beautiful cities I have yet to see on my trip.

Goodbye Cusco

Our flight was to leave at 7.30 AM on Saturday morning. No matter. I could still go out and enjoy the last night in Cusco. Afterall, Alexia did leave me about ten free drink cards for the uptown bar. So Lenay, Fio, Diana and I left the house at ten on friday night after a send off dinner made especially by our host Mom. Lenay left us to go salsa dancing at uptown. The rest of us went to Diana's going away party, as she would be moving to Lima in the coming weeks.

Three drinks and two hours later Fio and I encountered Lenay dancing at Mama Africa, jam packed full of tourists dancing to trash techno and raggaeton. We after spilling cubas and watching smoke rings, we stunbled across the plaza to Uptown, the bar from where Lenay and I had been taking salsa lessons over the last two weeks. A dozen bad songs later, I was out of tickets and out of time. We went home. Three hours would be plenty of sleep before my flight, right?

Some time later I wake up, faint light creaping through the windows. Thinking that it couldn't be that early, I nearly nodded back of. Grabbing a hold of my clock, my eyes focusing from haze. 6.11. I've got an hour and nineteen minutes to get dressed, on a taxi and out of Cusco! So fifteen minutes later, somber goodbyes to my host family, Lenay and I haul our luggage down Umberto Vidal road to the Cultura. Getting a cab at seven AM is not easy but possible. We made it in time, and my six weeks in Cusco abruptly came to a close.