Erik's BA Top 50 List

I am in Costa Rica. It is hot and muggy, and I haven't stopped sweating since getting here. But I'll talk moe about that later. I wanted to write one last post about Buenos Aires, but there is just so much left to say. Instead, I made a top fifty of my two weeks spent there.

So here we go...

1. Alfajores (ultra putas)
2. Parillas (grill houses, number one stand alone reason to visit Argentina)
3. Bife de Chorizo (argentinian beef, the best)
4. Palermo Soho (so bohemian)
5. Smoky City (when the plata islands lit up in flames and left BA in a haze for 3 days straight)
6. Zapallo (mashed squash, Lenay's personal favorite)
7. Gelato (Yes, Chino, it is different from helado)
8. Dulce de leche (in gelato is best)
9. Club Atletico de River Plate (Dale River!!!)
10. Almost getting robbed in La Boca (Dale River!!!)
11. Everbody sucking down mate (I haven't used mine yet)
12. Hanging with Chino's crew
13. Padel (I guess that is how it's spelled)
14. Milanesa (country fried steak, a la napolitana)
15. Pastas (Thank you italian immigrants)
16. Cheap Stella Artois (A little too much)
17. Vino barato (referto #16)
18. Straddling heavy weaponry in the musem of arms (and getting caught by the curator)
19. Bond Street (#1 punk mall in South America)
20. Lucky 7 Tattoo Studio (Thanks Gustavo)
21. Taking the subway for the first time
22. Pissed that Lacoste tees are sixty bucks in SA
23. Confused by BA prices (cheap food, cheap drink, obscenely high clothing prices)
24. Falling asleep watching Perrera
25. Thirty four hours of bussing to see Iguazu
26. Johnathan, the resident socially maladjusted Brasilian, tidy whitey lounging salami chewer
27. San Telmo fair and tango (holy shit, he just flipped that girl!)
28. Going to colonia for the day
29. Lenay forgetting her passport for the first day to Uruguay
30. Moto, our german shepherd friend
31. Getting yelled at by the Chinese grocers
32. Super panchos (dirty water dogs in BA)
33. Choclo empanadas (yes, half of these are food memories)
34. Vos, Sho, Vos
35. Seeing the transvesty hookers in the park
36. Manu leaving us Red Bull and a city map our first night
37. Red Bull party (4 cans that night, no sleeping)
38. Sarkis and that other middle eastern restaurant
39. Going to Tigre
40. Not ever supporting a team sponsored by Wal Mart (San Lorenzo, booo!)
41. Going to bed at 4 AM and calling it an early night
42. Not understanding a thing in Chino's INTL MARKETING class
43. 2 AM fanta runs
44. Everyone under the age of 60 wearing Converse All Stars
45. Seeing the narcotic animals at the zoo
46. The cat and naked statue garden
47. Hostel Nativo
48. Ceci showing us the city the second night
49. Going to watch River win 5-0
50. Wishing we could have stayed longer

The Epic Iguazu

Last week Lenay and I took a long, I mean long trip to see the waterfalls at Iguazu. Situated at a border between Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay, it's a long shot away from Buenos Aires. But I've been thinking about Iguazu since preparing for this trip. We were going.

Before leaving the city, we needed to move our lugguage from Hostel Nativo to Manu's house. Frankly, I didn't trust a certain Brazilian, who for the last week had been offering us chewed salami while lounging in his tidy whities. Neither of us felt good around this guy. Five minutes after our cab had I arrived I was yelling at Lenay from outside of Nativo. We were running late, but I knew she had forgotten something. Cheerfully, she skipped out the door, being in complete contrast to the anxious frown I had been wearing. With that the cab pulled out onto avenida Santa Fe and eight blocks later we arrived at Manu's apartment building.


After dropping off the luggage and getting a ride to Retiro station in north east Buenos Aires, and questioning a dozen agencies, we decided on a 6:55 departure with Rio Uruguay. During our hour long wait for the bus, we sought out the nearest choclo empanadas, a culinary favorite of ours.

By 8 Pm we were on our way out of Greater Buenos Aires, enjoying upper deck seating and an 'in-flight meal.'

At this point an interruption must be made to talk about the difference in quality of coaches. This was no Greyhound or Jefferson lines bus, dirty, cramped, sitting next to that sweaty amish guy on his way back to the farm. I spent my bus ride sprawled out in a double wide bed sized seat, sipping a whiskey rocks, sitting beneath a full powered ac blower. After a hot dinner the stewardess passed out champagne and confections. It was a true sybaritic pleasure.

The bus ride was seventeen hours long, so we arrived in Puerto Iguazu around noon the next day. I stepped off the bus to a climate far different from that of Buenos Aires. Hot and muggy, in this touristic sub-tropical village lying within thirty minutes of the border of three countries, something of a crossroads, you might say.

After Lenay tried Argetinian veal (BABY COW!!!) at a local restaurant, and I found a Sherwin Williams store, we paid eight pesos each to catch a ride to the national park. The entry fee was forty pesos, and inside we climbed aboard a disney-esque mini-train that shuttles people across the park to various vantage points.

Disembarking at the Argentina-Brazil border, I followed a string of tourists down a kilometer long catwalk. Crossing massively wide streams through subtropical forest, I spied a mist rising nearby. I was close to something big. Very big!

La Garganta del Diablo, or the throat of the Devil is a massive, semicircular cataracta (waterfall) that spews unimaginable amounts of amazonian river water every day. It is also the pride of the park, only rivaled by Niagra and Victoria in terms of sheer awe. La Garganta, however, is flanked by over a dozen others on each side. I was told that it's name springs from a legend of lost love, and the ensuing divine wrath. I'm sure you could imagine the details, but that is the general picture of it. The deafening roar of the cascading water does support it's veracity. I'm convinced.

It's epic scope makes the waterfall a common place for suicide. In fact, an English woman mde the plunge not weeks ago. I unknowingly stepped up onto the guard rail to get a better look, and for a few insensitive snap shots. Suddenly I felt thirty pairs of eyes burning into the back of my skull. It was hot.

I didn't know ok?!?!

Lenay and I enjoyed the vistas for a few more hours, exploring some trails and taking pictures. Honestly, the panoramic view left me in shock. All of the adjacent waterfalls, coupled with the tropical foliage, seemed to be sixty five million years displaced from its time.

This place is an anachronism.

All in all we spent five hours in the park. Exhausted, and missing Buenos Aires and alfajores, we bought bus tickets and went home.

34 hours of bus in less than three days. Insane. What were we thinking?

Colonia del Sacramento

In an effort to take advantage of Uruguay's proximity to Bunos Aires, Lenay and I made an excursion across the Río de la Plata. I loved the idea, because filling my passport with visas has become a preocupation of mine. It's unhealthy, really. I'll spend hours on end staring at my passport, as I did with my toy passport at the festival of nations as a child. Buquebus ofers a day trip to Colonia, on the other side of the river for just over a hundred pesos, so we took the subway to the terminal. Twice actually. Yesterday we woke up late, and after rushing out the hostell door, flagged down a cab. Driving through the Recoleta barrio I asked Lenay if she remembered her passport. PASSPORT!?

SO TODAY, after doing our duediligence, waking up early, and taking our passports, Lenay and I got to the boat terminal and bought tickets. IT was perfect because the package was just a day trip, nothing complicated. Our transport was a boxy, blue, eighty meter long ferry, a cumbersome beast that lugs across the river daily. I found a chair in the main cabin, and dozed for the next three hours.

At noon I was woken by the loud speaker, anouncing the arrival of our buquebus ferry in Colnia. Lenay an I disembarked, and found our way to a moto rental center. Twenty five bucks would have gotten me a moped to rent for the whole day. Apparently, you need a drivers license to drive a moped around. Huh, didn't see that coming. South America? Really? Lenay didn't seem upset, though, and we both love to walk.

We wandered residential Colonia, found a local bistro, and ate ravioli for lunch. Around 2 PM or so, we found the local collectivo (bus) and caught a ride to the beach. The bus, however, dropped us off in the middle of rural Uruguay, in front of a condemned bullring. Seemingly pulled from a different epoch, the coliseum was crumbling in some places, and wired off with barbed wire. I imagined chained gladiators locked in mortal combat, or a matador, in all his glory, striking the coup de grace to his sworn enemy. Both to deafening applause.

We walked the beach, noticing the islands, kilometers out into the river, and the rotting wooden piers, ancient derelicts, long past their use. The tide was low, and white shells, the size of my thumbnail, were washed up in the thousands. Asking a local for directions, we were directed to another bus stop that would take us to colonial Colonia (haha). Colonia del Sacramento was founded by the Portuguese (1680) and is the oldest city in Uruguay.

We walked up la calle de suspiros (street of sighs), which still has it's original 1680 paving. Dozens of uneven pitch black stones, with seemingly lateral cleavage jutting out of the oldest street in Uruguay. Additionally, traditional colonial Portuguese houses remained, as well as the reconstructed Viceroy's house, sitting at the edge of the plaza, where the military once practiced manuevers. There are just trees and fountains covering the field now. Lenay and I found the ruins of a colonial convent. It was attached to a lighthouse, but now all that exists are its foundations.

After climbing the city wall I spied the Buquebus port, so we strolled back through the town towards our ferry. Having over an hour to spare, Lenay indulged in her love for ravioli and had it for a second time. We were led to a restaurant by a stray german shepherd. He kept following us, and after petting it for two minutes, he gratefully accompanied us through the streets. We named him Moto, so at least we could get one today.

Half an hour later the german shepherd left us amicably, and we returned to the ferry. Curling up across four seats, I fell asleep, pushing the three hour voyage out of my life, exhausted.

Paddle and Milanesa

Lenay woke me up today at noon. How wasteful of me to spend my time in Buenos Aires, yes I know. But you go out in this city on a friday night. I mean, people aren't even having dinner untill eleven at night! It's an early night if you go home anytime before four in the morning without your fernet.

She dragged me out of bed this morning because Manu was on his way over to the hostal with Pauli. They were bringing us to their athletic club in Tigre. Situated on the outskirts of Greater buenos Aires, Tigre is a a weekend getaway for many Argentinians. It hugs the Paraná delta, and canoes, rowing shells, and motorboats can be see plying the Río Lujan even this late into autumn.

Uriel and Alex (friends) were already in the car as Pauli's Peugot pulled up to the hostel. With the six of us crammed in the car, Pauli pulled onto the highway. For the last few days wildfires have been chokling Buenos Aires with smoke. It's been all over the news, Manu even tells me this has never happened before. It's like a polluted haze, and visibility is limited, though we're safe.

Twenty minutes later we drive into a hazy Tigre and find some lunch. The guys wanted to give us the typical experience, so while Lenay was munching on gnochhi, I tried my first true milanesa. It's more or less a breaded and fried beef stack, that they add to ham and provologne cheese. being one of Argentina's most well known dishes, I had some idea of what to expect. I dug in, but fifteen minutes later I was out, full. If you like fried food, and steak, you still may be in for a surprise.

After lunch we went to the athletic club. Closing early because of Passover, we were one of few groups at the club today. I saw tennis courts, softball fields, basket ball, ping pong, and even a weird bunch of pole baskets spread out over a hard court. The pool and waterslide were already closed for the season, but a few people were out on the river, rowing. I was thrilled to see rowing shells in the boat house, though we'd be playing something else today. I can tell that Manu was ithcing to get out on a kayak, being a former youth national kayaking champion.

I followed the group to the paddle courts. With the mechanics of tennis and the speed of raquetball, paddle is played on a short, walled hard court in teams of two. Instead of the webbed tennis raquet, a raquet sized wooden paddle is used. They look kind of like ping pong paddles, on growth hormones. I hadn't played before, but the guys were happy to include me in the game. It's easier to pick up than tennis (sorry Rach haha) and I had a great time playing it too.

San Juan de Dios

For weeks now I've been meaning to write a blog about the experience I had volunteering in Peru. I don't know why I'm behind. I could say I've been busy, traveling and just haven't gotten to it yet. But honestly, I''ve just been having so much fun on this trip. It has been life changing, and my volunteer program was no exception. So here goes...

I spent my last two weeks in Peru volunteering in the hospital San Juan de Dios. Other than being a therapy center, hostel, and agricultural farm, San Juan de Dios is home to over fourty children. Having special needs, these children, ranging from toddlers to twenty, require special attention that their family just cannot give. Some are visited by their parents occasionally. Others will never know the face of their mother. They were just left in the care of the hospital. Never the less, walking into the orphange instantaneously casts a change upon you. It's something that you don't realize at first, but by the time you leave, you'll know. These kids are awesome.

I walked into the orphanage my first day having know idea what to expect. Working with kidss frightened me, in that aspect. The head nurse brought me to the childrens' ward. There I met my guys. Instantly my new friends lit up when I walked in. José in particular never stopped smiling. Wilson, a year old, thought I was the funniest guy in the world, and laughs at EVERYTHING. Angelica, was always dancing in her chair and insisted that I would to. Bonds formed in those two weeks.

I wasn't asked to do much. Just be their friend, the nurses asked me. A relief, because aside from babysitting my brothers years ago, I had no experience with caring for children. So, I passed the mornings playing with toys, singing, and walking around the hospital. Aside from Roger, who I would need to chase around the hospital, the toddlers were confined to wheelchairs for much of the day. So my german friend Gunda and I would take walks across the complex, visiting all of the animals. Dozens of pigs, busy at their troughs, would waddle to their gate to greet us. The larger sows squealed wickedly, fleeing from machos. One particular friday, I returned alone to the farms, stone cold stunned, as workmen were busy slaghtering these three month old animals. It was an awful sound.

Other than pig squealing burned into my memory, I can recall a particular white llama spitting on me as I was taking snapshots. Flaming camelids...

At lunch I would help the kitchen prepare lunch for forty odd children, be it slicing meat, frying hamburgers or dishing up rice (mmmm...rice). We'd rush out the plates to the dining room and hand them out according to age. There are many children who have trouble feeding themselves, and a volunteer is most valuable at lunch. The staff needs assistance making sure these kids are eating right, and I played a key role in this part of the childrens' day. While some children, like Carmen, absolutely adored her lunch, others didn't realize playtime was over and made the meal a real trial.

Overall, I loved this experience. Completely unique in my trip, it provided me with some important memories. After knowing what these children are dealing with in their lives, my own feel insignificant, quite petty. In spite of not seeing family, these children are quite optomistic, and well cared for by the nurses, who adore them. I fell very lucky to have played even a small part in their lives.

To all NRSCA students, I recommend this program. Apart from helping people who are in dire need of attention, you will experience Peruvian culture outside of the tourism industry. Additionally, the spanish school offers a thirty percent discount on classes to all volunteers. It really adds up when you study for four weeks, something I wish I had known about. But now that you do, get haughling to PERU!

Cheers.