Mendoza

After an all night bus ride from BA I reached La Tierra de Sol y Buen Vino - the land of sun and good wine, this morning. Today that could have been more accurately restated as La Tierra de Nieve(snow) y Bien Vino. It was a little over a 1,000 Kilometer bus ride, basically the width of Argentina. Although the bus was luxury enough I managed to get very little sleep as a result of the portly paunchy porteno occupying both seats next to me. Yes that was plural - seats, not a typo. To say this man snored would be an understatement of criminal proportion. It was more like sonic fury with yours truly being well within the blast radius. It was like sharing a room with a lumberjack dreaming of a Denny's Grand Slam Breakfast. After arrival and collecting my luggage I made my way to the curb to hail a taxi. Standing beneath a pair of date Palms, large flakes of clean white mountain snow began to collect on my black jacket. I peered up through the fronds of the Palm Tree above to see the snow fall. It was like the Christmas I never had in LA! It was at this moment it occurred to me that I might in fact be in the Central Andes. Subsequently I checked into the Acongagu Hotel in Plaza Italia and laid down for a long Winter's nap.

Upon leaving the hotel this afternoon I braced myself for the cold. I zipped, buttoned, covered and tucked myself comprehensively only to be met by 50 degree weather. This struck me as odd since this morning as I was checking in to the hotel snow was falling heavy and sticking. I believe this sudden change in temperature is due to a phenomenon called La Zonda which is hot western wind from the Pacific that dumps it's precipitation on the top of the Andes and when it reaches the Argentine side of the Andes it becomes just a hot wind empty of cargo. I am no meteorologist but I do believe everything I read.

Feeling rested and somewhat relieved that the lumberjack from the night before was nowhere around I took a leisurely stroll around Mendoza City. It is a city albeit a small one with a population of just over 130K. The town or err city is laid out in a hub and spoke pattern with the main Plaza, Plaza Indepencia in the center and four satellite plazas surrounding it. The city is devoid of any high rise activity with very wide and leafy sidewalks. The Sycamore Tree is ubiquitous. The Sycamores hug the edges of the sidewalk on both sides of the street forming a canopy that apparently makes the summer heat here somewhat palatable. In addition to the Sycamore another salient characteristic is the irrigation ditches that flow alongside every block. They are known as "acequias", a piece of engineering that is a throw back to the Colonial era that is still in use today. They are used to take run off water from the Andes for agricultural purposes. The presence of these ditches poses something of a danger to someone like myself who might be backing up to frame a shot with a digital camera. There were two close calls today before I learned that although a picture might be worth a thousand words it is never worth a broken ankle.

After a month in Buenos Aires it was relieving to sit in a couple of Cafes that did not claim that Carlos Gardel and Louis Borge had regularly hung out there. I make this last point somewhat tongue in cheek but sheesh did Hemingway drank at every establishment in Havana(although that might be true) or the were the Kray Twins reallly regular patrons of every pub in East London. Enough already! Anyway here the Malbec grape is the star and thankfully there are no signed pictures of it adorning the walls. Amen.

I paid a visit to the Centro Mercado which might possibly be the best market I have ever seen. There were no food stuffs that weren't readily obtainable - herbs, grains, chicken, fish, wine, arsenal bread, helado, steaks, organ meats, cured hams, you name it. It was all here under one roof.

At one point this afternoon I stopped into a cafe to eat lunch. It was now beautiful spring weather outside and I was famished from all the walking I had done. Midway though my sandwich two of the employees went outside for a cigarette. When the waitress went to open the door the whole door shattered into a million pieces. I am no engineering expert but I opened the same door to come in and it was clearly 1/2 inch thick or so of tempered glass. I couldn't help but wonder if the extreme changes in temperature played a part in that spontaneous shattering?(La Zonda?) Everything suddenly became a bit surreal, it had now started snowing again, the door was gone and they were playing Tropicalia music. I sat at my table in what was now a wind tunnel, looking out on Palm Trees and falling snow while listening to Tropical sounds on the the stereo. I was not sure quite what to think at this point. I offered up my janitorial services to the employees now collecting glass outside and afterwards they invited me out with them tonight for some dancing.

Anyway tomorrow it's off to either Lujan De Cuyo or Maipu for some wine tours and a natural spa. Both of these are just outside of the city. The pic at the top of this post is of the Basillica De San Francisco. This is the church of the Virgin of Cuyo. Cuyo being a geographical term which comprises the area of Mendoza, San Juan and San Luis, all within Mendoza Province. The Virgin of Cuyo was the patron saint of José de San Martín and his amry when marched over the Andes to beat back the Spanish in order to win independence for both Chile and Peru.

Ciao for now
Talk more later.

CT

musings

Yesterday we headed out to Tigre for a day trip. Shortly after the train pulled out of Retiro Station I saw what I hadn't yet seen but knew to be lurking somewhere - namely abject poverty. In a word the ghetto. Here in BA these are referred to as as Villa Mercias. This particular Villa passing by the train window is known by the name of Villa Trente Uno. It is a shanty town with with a population of 15,000. The houses are little more than cinder block, brick, mortar and corrugated metal roofs that seem to lack much in the way of structural integrity. Many of the residents are immigrants from Bolivia and Paraguay that have come to Buenos Aires for a better life or job or both. The interesting thing about these Villas is that they are for the most part self-sufficient. They have electricity that they have wired up themselves and basic plumbing that they have installed with their own hands. They appoint a villa President to oversea affairs, have their own general store and youth centers. There are some 750,000 people living in in Capital Federale who reside in these villas. One would imagine the residents to be socially marginalized and likely discriminated against. It is a stark contrast to the image of BA as a slice of Europe grafted onto the South American continent. Considering that BA is a city of 16 million 40% of which live below the poverty line it is suprizing that the population of these villas is not larger that what it is.

Tigre is a charming place. It is an island that sits on the Parana River Delta about an hour outside of BA. Residents off of the main island live on their own private islands in the river. Some of these residential islands are no more than an acre or two. Each home is built up on stilts in anticipation of flooding. Each island home seemed very personal, with their own boats and docks and placards in the front yard proclaiming the name of their abodes such as Andreas, Palmas, Dorrego etc. It was amusing to see Direct TV Satellite dishes tacked on to boat docks or nailed on to two by fours in the reeds. The local elementary school and church are situated on their own islands and water buses bring the kids to school. The main port is called Peurto Di Frutos. Historically the port was the aggregation point for all the fruits that were brought up and around the Parana River. The fruit at the port looked beautiful, completely organic with none of that paraffin polished sheen you see in your major supermarkets. It was tough to get decent photos on a moving water taxi but what I did get I will leave HERE

So there is an interesting political parallel here. Nestor Kirchner the Prime Minister of BA has a wife Christina who is running for the presidency. The election is this October. Like her husband she is also a Peronist and is currently a senator. The city is plastered with posters of a computer enhanced image of Christina Kirchner. I am trying to think of Hillary Clinton employing this tactic. I keep coming back to the Spy Magazine cover(you remember Spy right?) during the '92 election campaign where they glued Hillary's head onto a Dominatrix's body complete with riding crop. I think it would certainly spice up the otherwise droll race back home.


For some reason BA is the most psycho-analyzed place on planet earth. There is one psychoanalyst for every 30 residents.. I was at a dinner party and met a French woman who was studying psychology here. I asked her if she had any insight into this phenomenon her reply was simply "no but I am here to find out." Maybe its a well guarded trade secret? For people inundated with beautiful food, women and architecture one has to wonder how the national Psyche could possibly have come so unhinged? I suppose one could present a similar question about neurotic New Yorkers though.

The other side

It's only 45 minutes by high speed ferry to the other side of the Rio Plate which is Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. A short nap basically. Colonia is an interesting place. It was the only area of the Rio de Plata that was colonized by the Portugese. It feels like some strange social experminent gone terribly right. The streets are coble stone, very few structures are above two stories, there is little traffic and the locals drive mopeds, motorcycles and in our case a golf cart. It is one of the cleanest cities I have ever been and this being a peninsula you can see water almost everywhere you look. Something about it reminded me of the island that Patrick McGoohan was trying to escape in the British TV series The Prisoner. Aghh the dark side of Utopia.

One curious phenomenon was the homeless dogs. There were no homeless people but homeless dogs everywhere. They are looked after though. It is not uncommon to see shop owners generously sprinkling dog food on the sidewalks in front of their shops. So the fact that these dogs have no roof over their heads is of course an issue but I didn't see one pup whose rib cage was showing. These dogs get around too. There were four specific dogs I saw regularly in different parts of town and we kind of looked at each other knowingly in that "what's up?" sort of way. One of them was quick to befriend us - we named him Pepo. Pepo only had three legs but damn if he didn't have the slightest problem keeping up with us.

What I previously described was the old part of the city. We took the golf cart beyond the confines of the cobbled stone street peninsula where it looks similar to the poorer parts of Mexico. A striking contrast to the old port. We set out for an old bull fighting ring that seemed to be out pasture for some 20 odd years. Along the way there cows and horses that grazed freely on the side of school houses, libraries and police stations. At one intersection we met up with a man in a horse driven cart who was ferrying around some newly cleaned brush. We also found the Hippodrome which is the local race track. The hippodrome seemed to have fallen on hard times. The grand stands looked like bleachers one would see at a High School basketball game, paint was peeling everywhere and in the middle of the track was chest high weeds and grass growing with a few untethered passing the time. It was all a bit strange.

On a gastronomical note. The local specialty is called a chevito and the places that specialize in them are called chevitorias. The chevito is a sandwich comprised of sirloin steak, ham, cheese, bacon a fried egg, served on a hero bun. This is the sort of sandwich you get at 4:00AM from Verdi Mart in New Orleans during Jazz Fest. Not at all heart smart but insanely delicious. It is curious that a fishing town has a steak sandwich as its local delicacy no?

This is also one of those places where you go the cambio to trade in your Argentine Peso which are manageable in both volume and denomination and you receive a wad of notes that say 500U on them. One Argentine peso is worth 7 times what the Uruguay Peso is worth and momentarily you feel very wealthy until you realize it is 130 pesos for that Chevito sandwich. Its all sadly relative.


I will leave you with a tongue twister I learned laste last night it is akin to "she sell sea shells by the seashore." ditty. It is a tour de force of the rolling R.

erre con erre guitarra
erre con err carril
que rapido ruedan las ruedas
del carro cargado de azucar
del ferro carril

R with R guitar
R with R railway
How quickly the rolling the wheels
from cargo car of sugar
from the train


Some recent pics can be found HERE


C.

week ending

Hey there,
So my Mom came to town to pay a visit! I awoke on Thursday morning at 6:30 to pick her up at Ezizia Airpot at 8:10AM. Ouch. The night before it occurred to me that this was going to be something of a challenge for me as I hadn't been up that early in almost four months. In setting the alarm clock the device appeared to be something almost alien to me and sleeping through the alarm quickly became a source of anxiety. Her arrival came off without a hitch though. I hired a remise which is kind of a black car service to take me and they promptly phoned at 7:30 to let me know they were out front. A round trip fare with tolls, tip and waiting time came to the genteel sum of 30 dollars. Not bad at all. Anyway she's been a real trooper in dealing with this loft of sliding hidden doors, fire pole, pool ladders and propane gas heaters.

Yesterday was a beautiful Spring like day that hovered around 65 degrees for the duration of the daylight hours. It was warm enough that stopping in to a heladeria for some ice cream seemed like the right thing to do. We stumbled upon a place in the neighborhood called Dolce Amaretto Helados Artisanales. If someone chooses to juxtapose the words ice cream and artist you can bet that I will take notice. The portenos down here take their ice cream very seriously. The menu board was littered with flavors with names like Cielo(sky?), Marscapone, Alfajoretto and Tramontana. Realizing what he was dealing with linguistically, the owner resorted to the universal language of sample spoons. After we each had settled on a couple of flavors in a cup and content to exit the store the owner proceeded to go nuts, giving us a sampling of 20 of the 32 flavors he had to offer. As the cup I had already purchased proceeded to melt almost untouched. I indulged him in sampling flavor after flavor much to his delight. He was an ice cream artist and I was a connoisseur and this symbiosis would probably explain why it was nearly 45 minutes later before we finally retreated from his shop.

Last night was spent in Palermo Hollywood which we figured to be the Williamsburg Brooklyn of Buenos Aries. The weather lent itself to a table outside the Mekena Club, a live music venue. When we walked up it sounded as if Elvis Costello was playing. Tune after tune of My Aim is True era Elvis emanated from the club, all sung in English. The band was called Blues Motel, Blues Motel 6 is more like it. It was appalling. Two highlights of the club were A)There were hipster parents who had brought their kids and B) beautiful mullets sans irony. I have no idea why or how kids accompanied by parents are permitted in clubs at 2:00AM but it was interesting to witness. Back to the Mullets, they were fantastic - real rocker soccer mullets with bangs. At least 20 people we saw exiting after the band finished looked like they could have been the keyboard player for Supertramp. We snuck a bunch of pics and I will post them shortly.

Today was one of those uneventful days one sometimes has while traveling where nothing really happens yet you are seemingly on the go for its; entirety. We woke up late and went for breakfast, after breakfast it was nearly 2:00, a bit of shopping on the way home from the cafe and a subsequent discussion of laundry issues made sure that it was almost 3:30 before we got into a cab to do anything productive. We headed to Puerto Madiero in order to purchase tickets at the Buquebus office which has subsequently been dubbed the boogie bus by my Mom. The boogie bus is the ferry that traverses the Rio Plate in order to get one to Montevide, Uruquay. This was unsuccessful as we didn't have our passports with us which are required to secure a ticket. By the time we had incompleted this task it was getting dark and we were again hungry. We decided that a nice Italian dinner was what was needed. The problem is that one can not actually get dinner here at 6:00. The dinner menus are not in effect until 8:00 at night. This is b/c nobody eats dinner here until 10:00PM. We ended up making our way over to a place called Olsen which is a distinctively Scandinavian looking place that serves home made vodkas which are served at 18 degrees below zero(the menu made much note of this fact) and whose decor resembled a car mechanic's garage turned Unitarian Church - lots of Norwegian Wood(isn't it good?) We made do with a simple lomo sandwich before heading home.

On a random note. Automobile emissions do not seem to be an issue that anyone down here is familiar with. Yesterday when crossing Avenida de Mayo I watched a bus belch the biggest blackest plume of exhaust. The belch seemed to last for almost a minute. After a while of turning my head and covering my mouth I decided it was possibly safe to cross the street. In mid crossing however I walked into a carbon curtain that suspended itself for the lenght of the time it took to cross the intersection. This is a serious issue and regulary manifests itself on shirt collars at the end of a day out.

So it's off tomorrow to Uruguay at 9:00AM on the boogie bus. I will let you know how it goes.

Suerte
C.

sorry I'm late

After being told that this page was being ill-maintained I decided it might be a good idea to report some things from the front.

The pic above is one of the roadside shrines I have seen. I finally learned what it is. It's odd to have bottles with corporate branding on them surrounding a relious centerpiece no? This is a shrine to the Dfinunta Correa. The legend is that she traveled with her baby boy through the desert to meet up with her husband who was conscripted. She died for lack of water but her baby survived on the milk from the lifeless mother's body. People bring bottles filled with water as an offering. She is not a Saint but is treated as such by man Argentines and you can imagine the the Catholic church is none to happy about any of this.

Next the trip to the Millonga. The Millonga is basically a Tango dance hall. This particular venue was called Canning Town. Upon arrival I noticed a mix of ages on the street. There were people barely out of their teenage years as well as people your parents and grandparent's age who had come out for air. It was good to see older people since I was beginning to have the suspicion that there was some Logan's Run type scenario going on here in BA whereby everyone who was not under 30 and beautiful were killed off.

The Millonga hall itself is not much to speak of, a fairly utilitarian room with a bar, the dance floor in the middle and tables flanking the dance floor in a square. Tango is usually depicted as a showpiece with two talented dancers working their magic all by themselves. This however was 200 odd couples at any given time working an overly crowded floor. One thing that struck me as fascinating is that the style of dance is very spacial in nature yet no couples ever bumped into one another. I kept thinkingg and secretly hoping that there would a dance floor train wreck but it would never materialize. The music and dance were more modern than the traditonal places you usually see and hear. The range in ages was fascinating. I can't think of any Friday night activity back home where the young and the almost geriatric get gussied up on a Friday night and let it rip in the same room. The Millonga also is devoted predominantly to Tango but not exclusively. There would be the occasional Jitterbug and Lindy Hop thrown in for good measure and most people seemed comfortable dancing any of these. The other music that made the odd appearance bizarrely enough was The Velvet Underground which the DJ dedicated to us after learning where our table was from. Anyway these halls open at midnight and go until dawn. A quick scan of the room at 4:00AM showed evidence of many of the old folks still occupying their places on the dance floor. This is truly a great spectator activity.

Everything here seems to be named after significant dates in history here rather than the event itself and Tres de Febreuro is name of the city's version of Central Park. It is comprised of lakes, palm oasises, English style rose gardens, marble statues and exotic birds. Nothing is off limits to the pedestrian and the walking paths are crushed red stone that has a distinct smell to them. I am not sure if this is due to the landscape design but endless traffic on the 10 lane wide Ave De Libretrador 2 blocks away is reduced to nothing more than a distant hum inside the park. It seemed the park was a Canines idea of Utopia - in the absence of leash laws dogs are able to run and shit freely in an Eden like environment. It's a dogs life indeed.

So Aregentina lost to Brazil in the Cupa American, this was most unfortunate as I had high hopes of seeing the city go entirely bezerk as the result of a win. It was fun to watch the game with a table of full of Mexicans rooting for Argentina surrounded by Brazilians who were going nuts the entire game with their funny dances and chants.

I visited the MALBA which is the Museo de Arte Latinamericano de Buenos Aires. I guess I understand why there is an acronym for the museum. The museum is fantastic. My favorites were the pieces by Fernando Botero, Jorge de La Vega, Antonio Dias and Leon Ferrari that were in the permanent collection. The Cafe on the ground floor has top notch food and and beverages. The museum was also free so what's not to like?

Here are some random pics

Xul !!!!

I don't exactly consider myself to be a Philistine as neither me nor my family is from there but before today I had never heard of the artist Xul Solar.

In addition to his painting he invented two languages, his own pianos with three sets of keys and a time zone. Besides being an accomplished painter, musician and occultist he was also an architect - in short an art monster. One could only imagine the conversation at his cocktail parties. I don't know how to classify his work but it appeared to incorporate elements of Futurism, Cubism and Outsider Art. He worked primarily in water colors but there were also some oils (Tarot cards that I was disappointed they didn't reproduce and sell.) The museum itself is architecturally interesting, a kind of Brutalist style architecture - lots of large slabs of raw concrete. It's less of a museum and more of a foundation for his work and ideas. Amongst the couple hundred paintings there is also some sculpture and some ready made type pieces. I thoroughly enjoyed it and purchased four small lithographs that are printed on beautiful hand made paper that has the appearance of oil cloth. Anyway if you are interested in checking it out see the following LINK

I hesitate to bring up wine after talking about art for obvious reasons(insert joke here) but hey they do go together! That said I will mention the Bonarda grape. This is known in California as the Charbono grape which I have never heard of and is evidently Italian(Piedmont) in origin. In Argentina's San Mendoza region it's known by the name Bonarda. You can buy Malbecs here in the supermarket that are mixed with Bonarda that are fantastic. One label I love is called Uxmal. I am not sure what it sells for back home but it is $5.00 US a bottle here and is simply delicious.

OK I am off to a place called Las Cholas in Las Canitas which sounds like East L.A Gangsta food but their speciality is North Western Argentine cuisine which is known to be distinctly different from other parts of the country. The North West is known for a specific type of empanada and a humita tamale. I will let you know.

Buena Suerte

C.

living la vida boca

Hey!

I will attempt to catch you up on my recent comings and goings.

Savina the tutor came by yesterday for some castellano lessons They don't call it Spanish here probably b/c they have pleasently Frankensteined the language into something that is uniquely their own. The lesson got off to a rough start as it was interrupted by plumbers that came to fix a water heater. The plumbers were on the cell phone with their boss, the land line was being used to talk to the landlord's mother who actually owns the place and the skype phone was being used to talk to the landlord. Thus began this weird triangulation between the three of them and the three phones with the tutor doing translations as needed. The higlight of the lesson though was when I used the word "coger" which I believed to be the verb to get, she stopped me dead in my tracks and said "no no no cojer Cleef, in Spain yes ok cojer but here in Ar-hen-tina cojer is to fuck ok?." She said this without the slightest bit of embarrassment, very matter of fact. Genius. I wish I had it recorded because it would make a great ringtone for cell phone back home.

Last night we watched the All Star Game and the Argentina vs Paraquay game in Belgrano at a guy named Cave's house. Cave needs a little introduction. We had people over the house two nights ago for food and drinks. Cave was a freind of a new friend who showed up much later. Yesterday morning he phones the house and says "It's Cave I met you last night. I don't remember your name." After reminding him of my name he proceeds to ask if he can borrow the VCR!" I mean who does that? He's nice enough alright and invited people over for some sports since he has Direct TV here. I must admit that both games were good. Saw an in the park homer in the first game and the football came down to penalty kicks.

This morning I left and braced myself for the cold air and was pleasantly surprised that the weather had returned to mild Fall weather. It was nice enough to have breakfast outside at a cafe. From there with my belly full and the sun shining I jumped into a cab and we sped down the Avenida Libretador which runs along the Rio Plate. The street is the equivalent of a super highways with 10 lanes running in the same direction yet flanked by beautiful parks and greenery. The destination was La Boca.

La Boca is the old meat packing and shipping area that sits astride El Riachuelo(River.), home to the Boca Junior football club. Yes its touristy but still visually interesting. The houses are a mix of colonial and corrugated metal, splashed in a funky mix of every color Krayaola Crayons puts in the box. Apparently the origins of this aesthetic is that the locals not being able to afford paint would take the paint left over from the painting of ships and barges and use it on their houses. Now however this is mostly kept up for the sake of tourist who come and snap pictures on the Caminito which is the main drag.

After walking around a bit I took a tour of the La Bombonera which is the home of the venerated Boca Juniors. It wasn't much of a tour at all. It was a bunch of rabid Boca fans who were content to pay 6 pesos for the pleasure of sitting in the stands and watch two grounds keeper water the grass. The lack of anything interesting going on didn't seem to stop people from pulling out their cell phones and tacking pictures. I did manage to learn the term Brava Barra which basically translates to Soccer Hooligan so all was not for nought. Walking back down the Caminito a man put his fedora on my head pushed me closer to his tango partner. This old scam I was thinking when I noticed how incredibly hot his tango parter was. She threw her leg over mine and contorted me into some classical tango position at which point I handed the man my camera in order to take pictures. I handed him a couple pesos, returned his hat and took another look at the tango temptress before grabbing a cab out of there.

After that I headed to Congresso which as the name implies is the seat of the government. Congresso has a different feel than some of the other barrios. It is akin to Midtown Manhattan, sidewalks teeming with people and every conceivable type of store selling anything from beds and consumer electronics to socialist propaganda. You had the feeling that 'if it exists in Argentina one could find it in Congresso.'
I was very much looking forward to seeing the Teatro' Colon which is a masterpiece of an opera house, it was the largest opera house in the Southern Hemisphere until the Sydney Opera House went up. I was disappointed to find that not only was it closed for renovations for one year but the facade was covered in scaffolding and black scrim. I guess they didn't know I was coming. I got to see the obligatory protest march in Plaza de Congreso, apparently this is an almost daily if not hourly occurrence for some cause of another.

I have noticed this interesting phenomenon of cafe deliveries here. It is not uncommon to see a waiter or waitress on the street ferrying around a tray with a plastic lid and a few cups of cafe con leche inside. How cool is that to order coffee delivery and get real mugs and saucers brought to your door? I intend to order in coffee from a local tommorrow just to see how this works.

Anyway tonight its off to see Argentina vs Mexcio on the big screen.

Some pics from today can be found HERE



Ciao
Cleef