Travels with Delaney » Buenos Aires

An Apology

Delaney — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 20:43:54 +0000

So, I´m alive. I’ve let the activity-filled time pass without writing much, so it’s become a bit of a daunting task writing all that I’ve been doing down for posterity. And being slightly witty and semi-well-spoken while doing it.

But! I have a few hundred words in my phone, and quite a bit more in the noggin, so I’ll brief you all on my adventures soon. Until then, rest assured that I am in fact alive and content and traveling North toward Colombia. And very, very tan.

Your Intrepid Exporer.

Salta the Earth (Appended)

Delaney — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 22:38:37 +0000

I’ve been in Salta for a day now and have:

1] Taken a run for the first time after the big one. It went well.

2] Gone to see some naturally preserved mummies in space-age cryogenic capsules.

3] Taken a tram up to the top of a nearby (stubby) mountain and walked around the mini-garden at the top.

4] Signed up for a trip to Las Nubes (not the tren as it’s a bit pricey) on Wednesday (they only run Wednesday and Saturday) and one to Cachi tomorrow.

5] Met a nice Dutch young woman named Astrid with whom I’m going to travel to Iguazu on Thursday; I seem to have missed it somehow. I’ll be foregoing Mendoza for this, as I’ve heard Mendoza is more of a “couples” destination, and frankly, I’m not that into wine. I’m more into waterfalls, giant ones. I’ll then be heading directly to Bariloche. This is a change of plans, and if you look at a map of Argentina, you’ll see it’s a goofy one, involving a lot of bus travel.

5] Bought a camera. I’ll soon be losing/breaking it. Whatevs.

Luego!

Appendage:

I wasn’t able to go on the much-celebrated Salta rafting trip on Tuesday, as the company that was coordinating the outing called the night before and told me that there was a “weather advisory,” so I went back the next day and got my money back. I’m not sure what the weather advisory was, though, seeing as the next day was sunny and about 80 degrees. I was, however, able to do both the Cachi tour and the Tren de Las Nubes (in a microbus instead of the train), and they were both fun and made me excited to hang out with some nature pretty soon.

Goofy Salt Flat pictures from Las Nubes:

My trip to super Salta was happily concluded with a trip to the (one) nightclub where we drank “toothpastes,” which seem to be the national drink of Young Argentina, Fernet Blanco and Coca-Cola. Fernet Blanco used to be sold as a medicinal herb concoction and was co-opted by the youth to be used for recreational purposes. So, fun, but disgusting. Eduardo the quiet Brazilian* showed us all a thing or two about dancing, and it helped me to better understand the South American dance club experience.

Left: After a Couple Toothpastes; Right: Eduardo & Mierna

Chau for Ahora.

*Eduardo was the sweetest man, a nurse who also worked at his family’s funeral home back in Salvatore. He was a big guy, very quiet and self-conscious about his English (as he obviously spoke Portuguese, no one was able to understand his native language), but once he had a glass or two of wine or toothpaste in him, he could speak volumes about literature or politics or Carnivale in Rio, or show the ladies we were with how it felt to dance with a man full of amor.

How it Went

Delaney — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 23:21:52 +0000

Let’s just say that I taught South America a lesson about running a race. Except for that 80-year-old guy who I was trying to catch the whole way but never managed to do it. And those 12-year old girls who skipped across the finish line ahead of me. And a whole lot of fit futbolers. And like 5000 other people.

But still! I made it! And stuck to my tried-and-true method of running way too fast in the beginning of the race and having absolutely no juice left for the last 8 miles but forcing myself to drag my bones across the finish line somehow anyway. I would not recommend it as a tactic, it makes a guy pretty miserable. But still! I think I made it in 3:30! I beat the 3:30 pacer, at least (just barely), and my chip time might be as low as 3:28! So, way to go USA, right?

Click to see it bigger:

Julie was so kind and met me after the race to give me some clothes and my phone so I could take a picture, but honestly, I look Ephron* miserable. It’s not a pretty sight. The official race pictures will be online on Tuesday or Wednesday, so depending on how close to death I look in those, I might post some on here.

Oh, and at one (low) point of the race, near the end when I was forcing my legs against their will to move ahead of one another in cadence, I was thinking mean thoughts about my fellow runners as they passed me and I actually thought to myself, “come on, people, it’s not a race.”

When, in fact, it was.

Masculino:

Things I Know About Buenos Aires, a Compendium

Delaney — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 14:00:49 +0000

There are some things that Portenos will not eat, like peanut butter and broccoli. They seem to have replaced these things with substitutes, though, like dulce de leche and acelga (first def.)—I’ve been eating a lot of both.
Avenida 9 de Julio intersects with Corrientes and Avenida Santa Fe and Avenida del Libertador. Corrientes and Santa fe are parallel and connected by many streets such as Callao. Santa Fe and Corrientes are major shopping areas, like Florida and that street that runs perpendicular to Florida but is also a pedestrian-only street. And the closer you get to the Rio in Recoleta, the posher it gets until right before the water where it becomes a desolate abandoned port area. A lot like Retiro, which is fancy and full of amazing old architecture until right by the bus station, where it turns into favelas and guys stealing your wallets and satchels.
Some things here are inexpensive, like delicious oranges and red wine and fancy buses with super-comfy seats and steak (obvo) and housing and health care. But some things aren’t, like durable goods and nice housing and cars and fancy health care from Germany or Switzerland and poorly made clothing and everyday toiletries and cheap plastic-y things that in the US would be imported from China. I can’t figure out the system; it seems arbitrary.
As you move South from Palermo, Recoleta, the Microcentro to San Telmo and La Boca and beyond, the atmosphere moves from cosmopolitan to classical to bureaucratic to charming to full of character to a bit dodgy to dangerous.
Portenos are well-read. They make me embarrassed about what I haven’t. Every bookstore window is full of treatises and heavy nonfiction work about global politics and big issues. These books don’t have pretty pictures on the cover, these are books made to educate. And they’re in the front window—these are the books that sell. My pseudo-conversations with the 18-year olds and taxi drivers tell me that these people like to learn about politics and global issues, and that they like to discuss them.
Compared to the city I’ve been living in for the last 6 years, the per-capita percentage of runners is quite slim, but those who do run are champions. Their lungs and thighs are huge, due perhaps in part to their futbol experience.
People are friendly and willing to help those of us who exude helplessness such as myself. Everyone is nice once they hear my abysmal Castellano and almost everyone responds very well to a smile. That is not to say, however, that in a city with 13 million people you don’t have to hold your ground on the sidewalk to pedestrians and sometimes motos and taxis.
Dance clubs here disappoint. Maybe because (here I want to be judgmental instead of diplomatic, but may my better nature dominate) they don’t know how to have romantic relationships, even less than we Estados-Unidosians. Portenos seem to be incredibly insecure about romance and commitment. And courtship and love. And that manifests itself in really bad dancing to undanceable music. Diplomacy be damned.
Buenos Aires makes me want a motorcycle. Even more.

To be continued,

Your Faithful Scribe.

Locutorio

Delaney — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 16:46:55 +0000

My internet at home is down right now. I´m reliant on locutorios and the ubiquitous Havanna alfajores shops.

It´s honestly a bit of a drag, as I´m trying to arrange travel to Salta and points beyond right now.

I´ll fill you in on all the Oktoberfest debauchery and whatnot as soon as I get a reliable connection. Until then, look at the pictures, right? You´ll see highlights from Bierburg and Cordoba, as well as my fascinating trip to the BA Jardin Japones.

The Polar Bear Came This Close to Eating a Duck!

Delaney — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 00:09:39 +0000

I went to the zoo recently with Julie and Rebekah. It was, well, zoo-y. But the animals seemed pretty happy; even the polar bear, that sad clown of mammalia, seemed to be having a good time. Although the cats seemed a little tense.

I’m going to let the pictures do the heavy lifting:

The Cut

Delaney — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 19:53:50 +0000

Left: Before; Right: After

It took me a long time to find a barber. Although I live in an area heavily populated by beauty salons and other pelaquerias, they seem to mostly cater to the mature woman. During a walk around Palermo, I found a corner with not one but two masculine-type barber shops and made a note of it for Saturday morning. It was easy, and painless, and the fellow cutting my hair was muy simpatico.

You can just make out the shop behind that silver Volkswagon:

Ahora, Estoy Turista

Delaney — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 22:35:00 +0000

Above: The Fortabat

I’ve been a turista lately, going to museums and seeing sights. Last week I went to the Coleccion de Arte Amalia Lacroze de Fortabat, which is a long name; I think that people here just call it the Fortabat. This is a museum that Sonja and Katharina had told me about it and said that they’d enjoyed their visit, but suggested that I might not appreciate it because it’s “just art, mostly painting” and there were no explosions or anything to keep my attention. I was, of course, offended and once I found my way there I studied each piece for agonizing amounts of time, starting in the 17th century and working my way toward the present day, looking for subtle changes in technique and use of light through the centuries. I did this, of course, to prove to myself that I am not a Philistine and that we norteamericanos don’t always need explosions to be captivated. It was a beautiful building and and extensive collection, but seriously, it was pretty boring.

Above: The MALBA

But! The next day I went to the MALBA and realized that yes, I do love art and can be amazed and intrigued and yes, inspired by sculpture and painting and architecture and saying such-and-such is art even though in any other context it would just be a chair or a greenhouse or a canvas painted all the same color. It was great, and I highly recommend it to anyone visiting Buenos Aires. And I went on Miercoles, so it only cost 5 pesos, which is like US$1.50.

I also recently went on a Buenos Aires City Bus Tour with Rebekah and Julie and a young woman named Linda, who is unsurprisingly from Germany. I’ve not got much to say about it, honestly. It seems like something that would have been really cool to go to the moment I got to the city, just to get a good overview of the highlights, but I’d already seen every single place the bus took us through, plus many more. It was a beautiful day, though, and sitting on the roof of a bus being driven around on a gorgeous day is a decent way to pass some time. Here are a few bus-tour-y photos:

I ran a bit. I meant to do 22 miles on Monday and had measured out an appropriate route, but missed a turn somewhere and ran a bit extra when I should have turned around at a certain street. I ended up only going about a mile and a half extra, but after a point, a mile and a half can mean quite a bit. My longest run here in Buenos Aires up to then had been 20 miles, and I ended up running 23.5 miles that day. However, I’m beginning to think that if I had a support van (like Dean Karnazes sometimes does) feeding me nutritious foods and keeping me hydrated (and providing bano services), I might be able to run indefinitely. The things that I always worry about while running are not exhaustion or how much my feet hurt (which really, they do), but if I’m going to get sick from dehydration or if I ate enough of the right kind of food beforehand to keep me going. And el bano, seriously. Public facilities are few and far between in Buenos Aires; I’ve had a couple of close calls.

We also went to the Metropolitan Cathedral. ‘Nuff said:

Chau.

Teenage Boliche, Caffe Sap, Etc.

Delaney — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 20:34:40 +0000

I went out for a long night on Friday to see Ben off, as he left to start traveling with the missus (which means girlfriend in British) on Saturday. We went to Doppelganger, which is a really great place, lots of fabulous atmosphere and well-crafted beverages, and continued on to Del Plata for meats, followed by Bar Seddon for a beer or two (and a bit of old-girlfriend-talk inanity on my part), then a club called Carnal that didn’t really live up to its name, and finally another club with no name and really terrible music populated (and staffed) by 18 year-olds. The conflict of the evening arose when I could not figure out the coat check at the last, unnamed club. There was a 20 peso cover charge which you might have thought included coat check, but sadly did not. I was, however, given a ticket that looked a lot like something one might use at a coat check but was instead to be used for beverages. After three or four trips back to pantomime with the 18 year-old staffing the coat check room, I managed to figure it out, and was able to dance awkwardly with the rest of the teenagers for an hour or so before we all just gave the hell up and went home. But it was fun, and sad to see Old Ben go.

Here’s a fun fact about Argentina: they don’t have butter knives. Argentines, at least Portenos, seem to like to eat a lot of Manteca (which means butter, contrary to what spanishdict.com might say), which is good, but every knife that I’ve come across in a home or restaurant has been a steak knife. So whenever you’re spreading butter you have to be careful. Seriously, these people like to eat some meat.

Also, my newest challenge is getting my hair cut. I learned today that it’s called a corte de pelo, and I think that if I say corto en los lados y un poco largo sobre el alto, it might work. At the very least I can show them a picture of myself on my phone, right? Seriously, this is terrifying; I hate getting my hair cut at home, and I speak English pretty well. Wish me luck, eh? Bueno Suerte?

Chau-zers.

P.S. Now that I have my own place, complete with complimentary french press, I’ve been making my own coffee out of the finely ground, black-as-night stuff that I can buy at Disco down the street. And as they don’t sell half and half in the supermercados here, I’ve had to make do with 100% cream. Add the giant-grained, unrefined sugar from my cupboard, and it’s some of the best coffee I’ve ever had. Seriously, I feel like I’m drinking the sap of the caffe tree or something.

Oh, and here’s an advertisement for the maraton that I will be winning in a couple weeks. It’s nice to see that it is, in fact, an actual event:

Tiny, Well Groomed Dogs; Sailboat Dream

Delaney — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 20:01:11 +0000

It’s raining today in Buenos Aires, and the buds have just appeared on the trees. It’s primavera, creo.

I moved into my new departmento on Lunes. So far, I like it a lot. I live in a swanky part of the city, in between Palermo and the Microcentro; as far as I can tell, most of my neighbors are old ladies, tiny, well-groomed dogs, and schoolgirls. There’s a very nice market one block away and many small tiendas/negocios very near. I also live 7 blocks from El Cementario Recoleta, 9 blocks from many great parks for running, and 2 blocks from Avenida Santa Fe. A map:

View Larger Map

Left: my building, the shabbiest on the block (location, location, location); Right: Looking down Calle Juncal.

A few quick thoughts:

1] I’d heard a bit about alfajores and seen them for sale in tourist shops, as they’re famously delicious. Before trying one, I was skeptical and even held a bit of disdain for them; most alfajores sold in Buenos Aires look strikingly similar to little Debbie cakes and are packaged as such.

And then I tried one. And another. And many, many more. They’re magnificent. The recipe seems to be some devastating combination of fat (in the form of a lardy biscuit) and sugar (two layers of dulce de leche, another Argentine institution). I ate two in a row today after lunch and feel a little sick, but it was so worth it.

2] I didn’t pack a lot of clothes. I have five t-shirts (not counting running apparel), one pair of jeans, some khaki pants, poly pants, and a sweater, which are great for hanging out and shopping and school. But Portenos dress really well, especially in my new neighborhood. Ties with sweaters and/or sportcoats are the norm for men here and I feel like I stick out quite a bit with my rotating collection of grey T-shirts. So I may venture into the world of commercial apparel this week and purchase a shirt with a collar and a button or two.

3] I had a dream the night that I lost my bag in which I was wandering around the Petoskey Marina at night, a place that I’d always loved. It was a quiet night with a full moon and no one else was in the marina or on any of the boats. I wandered onto a sailboat and was standing on the deck watching the shore when I realized that the boat had not been moored to the slip, and had drifted away from the dock. I was a little unnerved at the situation I found myself in, and grew more uneasy as the sailboat made its way (as if powered by some unseen force) out of the slip and between the breakwater and the concrete pier and headed toward the open water of Little Traverse Bay. I heard a voice or felt a will urging me to make a decision, so I grabbed a line and jumped in the lake and swam to the dock, pulling the huge sailboat behind me. It was difficult, but I made it to the concrete pier.

It wasn’t the most bizarre dream, or scary, or even that out of the ordinary. But did you catch the symbolism?