Tak’en it to the Country:  Relaxing at a Mendoza Inn

February 28th

We are out of the city in the Mendoza countryside, where tall poplar trees sway in a gentle breeze in the shadow of the Andes.  All you hear is the music of birds and the hum of bees, busy collecting honey from multiple lavender bushes decorating the grassy yard.  Only the occasional car or motorcycle passing by the inn reminds you that the city is not far away.  It is peaceful, and we love the change.  The Tikay Killa Inn is the dream- child of a shockingly handsome, thirty something, Argentinean single guy who, along with his adorable yellow lab Souki, and grey cat, fell in love with the life in the countryside and knew he needed to live here.  No more than four years ago, he bought a couple acres of land and had the inn built with four rooms for guests.  He has plans for a few rows of grapes that he will nurture into a small private production of wine.  Then, with the bit of ground that is left over, he will install a pool to replace the above ground, kiddy pool he uses to cool off in on a really hot day.  The closest town is about a mile away where, if you blink twice, you miss it. 

Our innkeeper is well traveled, and tells us that he learned his English, which is nearly flawless, in South Africa. He has had several years of experience working for a local winery and is a decent cook.  According to Michael, he makes the best sunny side up eggs this side of the equator.  It has been nice for me to have the opportunity to really communicate with a local after two Spanish language challenged months away.  It is also nice to have the company of a couple of adorable pets who know their manners, but enjoy the extra attention I lavish on them. 

We have gone on a couple of short bike rides further into the countryside where you can smell the yeasty aroma of wine processing in Bodegas that we pass.  Yesterday we stopped at a charming place that makes chocolates, “licores”, jams and olive pastes.  For about five dollars each, we got to taste the fruits of their labor while engaging a beautiful young girl who is getting her degree as an English teacher.  We took an instant liking to her and wanted to bring her home so she could fine-tune her skills. It is expensive for Argentineans to travel to the US.  It requires a visa and an expensive airline ticket, not to mention the expense of hotels and travel within the country.  For a young girl just finishing college, it is impossible.  I immediately started brainstorming about how great it would be to find someone who needs an au pair, or assistant of some type, who could sponsor her and offer her lodging in exchange for childcare and perhaps Spanish lessons.  Then she could really immerse herself in the culture.  If anyone has any interest in having such an arrangement, I am sure she would jump at the chance to have such an opportunity. 

The food in the countryside is far superior to what we have found in the cities.  We have gone to a recommended restaurant, Casa de Campo, the only restaurant that exists in this one horse town.  I am impressed with their wonderful food and the folk music playing in the background that adds to the charm.  I was in heaven eating the roasted pig, rustic potatoes and vegetables. Along with a glass of wine and a beautiful salad, we had a feast.  The pig was  “melt in your mouth” tender and dripping with delicious juices and flavors that only clay oven roasting can impart.  We will go back today and probably all the afternoons until we leave, just to try all of their wonderful dishes.  On Friday, the 2^nd of March, we will be traveling over the Andes on the top level of a double-decker bus.  We have front row panoramic seats--pray for us!!

Mendoza: Wine, Women, Song and a Baby in Trouble!

Seventy percent of Mendoza’s revenue comes from one industry--wine!  They make a big deal about celebrating this product with a month long festival that culminates with the crowning of a Harvest Queen.  There are many concerts, parades and various celebrations that occur around the city at any given time.  But tonight, while we were waiting for a concert in the park to begin, we witnessed a dramatic event involving a baby who was approximately six months old, which I will return to in detail later. Hang in there with me; I have much more to talk about!

But first, back to the wine:  We are learning that Argentines take their wine seriously.  Unlike the typical winery visits in California where you are treated to a “flight” of various wines, here they want you to know about wine making from the vines in the ground to the bottling process.  Michael and I have learned things that I never knew about wine, and it will make me appreciate it far more from now on. With our friends from Canada, Johanne and Don, our second day in Mendoza began at the Norton Winery with the harvest tour.  It began with a glass of pink champagne as a warm up, and then we were given the tools to harvest the grapes.  We were given instructions regarding the best grapes to select for picking and given clippers and a row of vines to pick. We were in a race to see which couple could pick the best quality and quantity of grapes.  Of course both couples did well, and basically it was a tie. 

We were told that most of the wineries pick grapes by hand to ensure a quality wine.  At the Norton winery, workers from Bolivia come in great numbers at the end of February to harvest the grapes.  To revive us after a half hour of hard labor, we were given a quick taste of Mate and some sweet pastries, and then ushered into where the magic happens--the distillery.  Here we were shown every aspect of wine making.  This particular winery began with 100 hectares of land in the early 1900’s and has since grown to thousands of hectares and changed hands multiple times.  Currently, an Austrian owns and runs the company, but has maintained the Norton name due to a strong name recognition and excellent reputation.

To educate our palate, we were given several tastings of the wine from its infancy to full maturity, to fully appreciate the maturation process.  We saw the new high tech machines and then toured the area where, in the 1900’s, wine was processed in a different manner.  We were then led to the owner’s private wine cellar where we had the premium wine and a lunch of homemade empanadas, meat, cheese and olive tray, along with fresh hot breads and rolls.  We felt that the only thing missing was the owner.

Our next stop was the Tapaz winery, a very young establishment that was started in the year 2000 by the head of Kendal Jackson.  Unfortunately, not long after acquiring the property and starting the business, Argentina’s economy took a nosedive and Kendal Jackson decided to pull out and cut his losses.  The current owners are one of the first in the area to establish an organic wine with ecologically sound production practices, where all the organic waste is then recycled as fertilizer and mixed with Llama droppings.  The company raises llamas because they not only wanted to use their stool as fertilizer, but more importantly, they wanted to give their farm workers year round labor.  They hire workers who live in the Andes, and when the harvesting is complete, these workers then work with the llamas to produce beautiful hand knitted scarves and shawls.  At this winery we were given a wonderful tour and allowed to taste the wine at various stages of fermentation, which only added to educating our palate further.  At the very end, we were treated to a carriage ride through the vineyard as an added bonus.  Our guide was by far the most passionate about the wine making process of all the vineyards we visited and could have easily taught classes or been in theater. We loved every minute of his animated charm.

The Women:  The town of Mendoza has nearly a month of activities, called the Vendimia, that range from concerts in the park to parades, and all the wineries set up booths along one long street for wine tastings.  At the culmination of the harvest festival there is a major party and celebration where finally, at 1or 2 in the morning of March 4th the actual crowning of the harvest queen occurs.  This tradition has been going on since the 1930’s, and the “party” has grown into the gigantic celebration that will take place next weekend. During the street fair, we were delighted to see that the beautiful princesses were on display posing for photos with the locals.  It would be difficult to choose the one girl who deserves the crown the most; they were all very pretty.  To kick off the celebration next weekend there will be several big parades that include floats and cars with people throwing fruit and wine into the crowds.  Another celebration will take place on March 10^th, which is an alternative to the Vendimia. It is a fabulous show of Cabaret, with transvestites as the star attraction and the crowning of their “queen.”  We are especially sad to miss that celebration!

The Song:  Every night so far there has been outdoor music celebrations that are held in a park not far from our hotel.  We know this because the music can be heard in our room on the 8^th floor.  Last night we decided to partake in the festivities and joined the growing crowds waiting for the concert to be held on a massive rock star-like stage.  But being Argentina, the music was not due to begin for a few hours (from 9pm to 2 am) and so we decided to wander down several of the streets to see what the town had to offer.  In one area, there is a pedestrian only shopping street.  This was where it looked like a dozen school buses had dropped off hundreds of high school kids who were doing what that age group normally does-- strut their stuff, smoke to be cool, and hang out.  Along the way, Michael pointed out several adorable babies and one in particular caught my discerning eye.  This little baby was being held by what appeared to be a much older, disheveled guy who appeared homeless to me.  He was sitting on a bench with many bags next to him, and the baby was held tightly over his shoulder.  The baby was so still he appeared to be asleep.  But on closer observation, I could saw his face, and at the time, I thought it odd that the baby was awake and (if this is possible for a six month old) had a look of fear on his face.  My instincts told me something was wrong, but I quickly passed it off as the possibility that this guy was just a scruffy old grandpa waiting on a bench for the mother of the baby to return from shopping.  We moved on while I tried to put any uncomfortable thoughts out of my head.  Soon it was 8 pm and we decided to go back to the park, take a seat on a bench and listen to the musicians that we could hear warming up in the distance.

The baby:  It was a delightful evening with plenty of people to watch milling about and getting in line to grab prime seating in a fenced off area of the park.  We sat on our wooden bench, quite content to listen to the great music and see the people in conversation, notice the beautiful children playing games on the grass, and argue over which baby was the most beautiful.  Not just once, but on four separate occasions, a different local dropped out of line to come offer us their extra tickets to the prime seating.  They were all generous, talkative and gracious to make such an offer, but we declined, not knowing how long we would want to stay.  

It wasn’t long before the sad and dramatic event took place.  I noticed the “grandpa” and the baby pass by.  “Grandpa” was loaded down with packages and carrying a cane but had a firm grip on the little baby.  He seemed burdened by his load, and unfortunately he also appeared to be drunk.  No sooner did I turn to mention to Michael that I’d seen the guy with the baby again than he stumbled just a couple of feet away and fell completely backwards, dropping everything except his most precious cargo--the baby.  Had I had a better command of the language, I would have jumped up to assist him, but the locals got to him quickly. One woman took the baby from him and someone else gathered his things, while another helped him stand.  Because there were no signs of this baby’s mother, I immediately realized that this man was not the “grandpa” and felt he was up to no good.  Fortunately, the people assisting him apparently came to the same conclusion.  One guy called the police on his cell phone and stood nearby to prevent the “bum” from leaving.  Another went to look for police in the park.  It wasn’t long before the bum regained his composure and grabbed the baby back as if it was his most prized possession.   But, because of his inebriation, and those surrounding him, he couldn’t leave.  It wasn’t long before a dozen male and female police got to the scene and more moms leapt into action trying to get the baby away from his ever tightening grip.  The bum was so angry and frustrated that he took several swings at the man with the cell phone, landing two good ones on the guy’s jaw.   One woman got the baby away and immediately sat down and offered her breast to the kid, which I thought, was a bit unusual, given the fact that I was told she wasn’t his mother. 

While I was watching the events unfold I kept asking a lady sitting on the bench with us. “Is that the mother, or is that one the mother?” It took at least six police to subdue the guy and take him off in handcuffs.  A police woman took the baby, who now appeared relieved, and the drama ended and everyone went back to life as if nothing had happened.  It was disclosed later that this baby was indeed not a relative of this man and for some reason it was pointed out that “he is Chilean,” as if that was supposed to explain the whole situation to us.  I was also reassured that Mendoza has good hospitals, where the baby would be taken for a full exam and then turned over to social services to care for him until some relative could be found.  

The events surrounding this baby will haunt me for some time, I think.  I wish I had listened to my instincts and inquired about the guy as he sat resting on the bench with the baby in his clutches. What if he hadn’t crossed my path again, and what if he hadn’t fallen??? But then how could I have communicated my concerns to anyone?? Michael can speak some Spanish quite well, but understanding them is still very difficult. 

We walked back to our hotel as I complained about my frustration with the language. I want to be able to be able to interact with people more, but not many speak English, and they speak Spanish way too fast!  Then, at 12:30 am my concentration was averted for a brief time by beautiful fireworks bursting right out our 8^th floor window.  Life goes on I thought, and the good people of Mendoza reacted as any of us would have, in any country, to protect the life of a baby.  Tomorrow we head out of the crowds, away from the noise of the festivities here to Mendoza’s countryside to stay in a small winery for a few days. This will be our first time in two months away from a city.  We look forward to this quiet. I am told that there will be bikes and horses for us to ride.

Downtime in Cordoba & Wine tasting in Mendoza:  Learning to take the good with the really good!

February 22, 2012

We spent about five days in the second largest city in Argentina, Cordoba. We stayed in a fairly nice apartment style hotel. It could be called an apartment because it had a countertop with an electric tea pot, small refrigerator and a microwave for us to use.  There was a small rooftop pool where the water was a murky green and cloyingly warm.  It was the type of warm scientists would love to use for a culture medium, which is why I found it so unappealing and did not want to go near it. I was not going to add to my current illness!  There was also a gym with three pieces of equipment, every one of them broken. So to get any exercise, we walked quite a bit.  I chose to visit Cordoba initially because I had heard that it had a lot of historic appeal, and the countryside was supposed to be beautiful.   But when we became ill, it was the lack of anything that made Cordoba and our hotel a perfect resting spot for us to mark time and recuperate. 

Simply put, Cordoba is a worn out, tired looking dirty town.  There doesn’t seem to be a lot of pride there that we could find.  They have a ton of second rate shoe and clothing stores that inhabit about a mile’s worth of meandering walking paths.  There are metal arbor coverings that run down the center of these paths with dead looking vines clinging on in hopes of new life and potential flowers.  Unfortunately, the arbors only serve as a safe haven for pigeons to roost and pollute the walking path below.  In addition, there are some very savvy, stray dogs who know all the safe places to sleep off a night of scavenging, and of course their deposits are intermittent land mines.  There were some historic sights to enjoy, but without anything but a city map, a lot of intermittent rain, and illness, I think we may have missed a few of these places.  We attempted to go into the travel agency but it was closing and turned us away. Our favorite place to visit was an ice cream shop that sold two scoops of delicious ice cream in a waffle cone for about $1.50.   On Sundays and Monday afternoons the town is closed up tight.  Only a few of the tiny kiosk type markets are open to sell minimal essentials. One of the last days we found a very trendy, upscale, multi-story shopping complex that satisfied our need for a quick meal and a movie.

One surprise to me was the paucity of good restaurants in a city the size of Cordoba.  There were plenty of coffee shops, pizza dives and burger joints, but not one really nice restaurant that we could find.  So we ate one dinner at our hotel one night, and to our surprise,e it turned out to be quite delicious.  We got out long enough to walk a bit, take a few pictures of some interesting churches, and go to the movies.  It was nice to get a lot of rest, which was great considering that today we have flown to the wine capital, Mendoza.

We met the nicest couple on one of our forays about Buenos Aires.  Johanne and Don are from Vancouver B.C. and by coincidence, we kept running into them in BA so we joined them for dinner near the hotel (which we, surprise, surprise, found each other staying) and began to make plans for future rendezvous.  We have now reconnected here in Mendoza.  We barely got our bags to our room this morning before we were off again to rent a car and find a winery with our new friends.  As luck would have it, we stumbled on a French winery called Terrazas, which is in the Chandon group of wineries.  The guard at the gate told us in Spanish that they normally only take reservations.  But being a persistent group, we somehow convinced them to take us in for a tour.  However, the only tour we could manage in English would be about a two hour wait, and if we were willing during our wait, they would set up a light meal and two wine pairings for us.  It was an offer we couldn’t refuse, and we were glad we didn’t. 

First we were ushered into the garden to wait where we were given an oaky chardonnay to taste, which we all thought was delicious.  Then we were led to another area of the garden where a bar area was beautifully set for four.  There we sampled more wine and were given a tray of meats and cheeses, fresh breads, and two kinds of empanadas hot from the oven.   Thinking the meal was over, we moved to some lounge chairs on the patio of the inn, and there we were treated to champagne and dessert. Before we realized it, the two hours had passed and we were gathered up by a delightful, pretty young Argentine woman who then proceeded to give us a very extensive, one hour tour followed by yet more tasting. 

Sufficiently sated and “sotted”, we cautiously found our way back to the hotel and are resting up for the next tour, which we have scheduled for tomorrow morning.  This next tour is a “Harvest Tour”, where we will learn even more about what goes into wine making from picking the grapes by hand to the fermentation and bottling.  Michael is not much of a wine drinker, but has been a good sport participating in all the activities. I could tell he really enjoyed the food and the personalities of the people conducting the tour.  So, after a couple hours spent by the pool, we have retired to our rooms where we are currently enjoying the sounds of thunder and torrential rain hitting the window. Hopefully we will drift into a very satisfied slumber thinking how much we like Mendoza already!

IGUAZU: Welcome to the Disney Adventure Park!

February 15, 2012

One of the highlights of our trip, one that we had looked forward to from the planning stages of this whole South American adventure, was the magnificent Iguazu falls.  It is located approximately a twenty-two hour drive northeast of Buenos Aires.  We originally thought we would travel there by the overnight bus so that we could experience what we read was the best bus experience ever!  Apparently these buses have seats that recline into a bed and are better than any first-class airline. They also serve great food and have services that would put many airlines to shame.  However, we decided that being on a bus for that length of time, no matter how luxurious, was not something that we wanted to try.  Luckily I was able to find domestic flights to three places on our agenda for one great price that included Iguazu, Cordoba and Mendoza.  As it turned out, having these flights and relaxing accommodations in each venue was a blessing. Both of us have been sick, me with a cold and Michael with a gastrointestinal bug.  Unfortunately, we were at the falls during the height of our illnesses, so we were not at the top of our game to say the least. 

Of the two days we were in the city of Iguazu, we visited the falls just once because after our first day there, we found out just how difficult it is to get to the viewing areas of the park.  To begin with, from our hotel it was a twenty minute cab ride to the entrance of the park, where nearly tame, raccoon-like Coatis greet visitors in hopes of a handout.  There were several youngsters playfully showing off for the crowds with intermittent stops to nurse from momma. Once through the entry area it was necessary to catch a Disney-like train to the first station.  At this stop you are free to wander on long paths to the intermediate, or lower, parts of the falls, but we chose to go straight to the most exciting area, the mouth of the falls, “Garganta del Diablo”- Devils Throat.  We figured it was good to start with the most spectacular part of the falls and planned to wander down to the other parts later in the morning.   But to get to the Devils Throat it was necessary to wait for yet another train in a long line.  This next train took twenty minutes to reach the next station, after which we had about another half hour trek along a well-constructed, sturdy metal path that wove its way through the jungle, over rushing streams and finally to the falls. 

Along the way it was possible to see large black catfish in a clear stream, waiting below the metal path, anticipating a bit of food from willing visitors.  There were also a pair of large turtles sunning themselves on rocks and even one smaller turtle enjoyed catching a ride on the back of one of the large catfish.  We didn’t see the toucans that were promised, but because some tourists had some food with them, we saw some very opportunistic blue jay- like birds who were very vocal and bold in their attempt to “share” in the picnic. 

As you approach the area of the falls, you can see in the distance a heavy mist in the air and hear a loud roaring sound, which just adds to the anticipation.  And when you are actually in the presence of the falls, it is amazing!  The roar of the water rushing over large rocks and the mist falling like rain is exciting and cooling at the same time.  I didn’t want to leave.  It was the only time during our adventure that I forgot my illness because I was caught up in the excitement of this natural wonder.  I can’t say that I felt it was bigger than Niagara Falls, but certainly seemed more spectacular. 

The experience was awesome, but we were not alone.  We found ourselves in a small area, very crowded with what seemed like busloads of people jockeying to get their pictures and time at the viewing railing. Because of the crowds, we didn’t have more than a few moments at the railing without the next visitor pushing at us to get into position.  Everyone was trying to get that special picture of them beside the falls.  Add to that the challenge of trying to get a few pictures with a heavy mist constantly fogging up the lens.  I was forever wiping off the camera before I could take the next picture.  I was caught between just enjoying the moment and the desire to capture it all digitally for future reference.  Whatever the circumstances, I doubt that any picture can even come close to the beauty and grandeur of that area of the falls, but I will have the sensation of them forever in my memory, and I am glad that we had the experience.  

Our intention was to continue the rest of the self-guided tour.  But when you walk away from the cooling mist of the falls, the heat and ever increasing humidity intensifies.  Add to that a long walk back to the train, a 45 minute, Disney-like wait in long lines at each train station, pushing hot and angry visitors, and energy sapping illness.  This all added to our decision to bail and go back to the promise of the cooling water of our hotel’s pool and a nap in the confines of our air conditioned room, far away from the madding crowds.    Yet as we pulled out of the last train station, I couldn’t help but wonder what we might be missing by not going to the other areas of the park.   However, we were reassured by a few other visitors that the area we had just visited was by far the most spectacular of all the other areas.   But one young guy did add that in one spot, at a lower vantage point, he did find some rainbows captured in the mist coming from the falls.  While I am just a little sad that we couldn’t partake in all the areas of the park, I am grateful for a healthy imagination and will keep his description of the rainbows and the things we actually saw in my memory for years to come.   Next stop-- historic Cordoba, Argentina!

Notes on Uruguay:

February 11-14

Colonia:  Just a one hour boat ride from Buenos Aires is Colonia.  This little town is full of cobblestone streets in what is called barrio historia, which is a quaint old town reminiscent of places I’ve lived or visited in the U.S., like Chestertown, Maryland or Annapolis, but just a much smaller version of both.  Colonia is a 1600-1700 village built along the muddy looking Rio de Plata.  This river turns silvery grey in just a few hours before sunset, hence its name- Plata.  The earliest settlers were Portuguese.  

The two-story inn that we stayed in has thick, old stone walls and green shuttered doors with brass and ceramic door handles.  There is a charming, large garden courtyard area with a delft blue china fountain.  On the second story, the breakfast room was filled with tables covered in blue and white checkered tablecloths, where we were served a generous continental breakfast.  From our table, there was a view of a walled garden with more rooms, which were once used as a carriage house many years ago.  We were entertained by several emerald green parrots flying in and out of a tall old fruit tree. They all seemed to be enjoying their breakfast of ripening figs. 

The historic part of town consists of no more than a few square blocks and was once surrounded by a wall to protect from invaders.  Several old historic buildings are well maintained and display artifacts from the area.  It is mostly a one day tourist destination for visitors from Buenos Aires to get away from the hot and humid city for a day or two.  And it is also the gateway to other areas of Uruguay where wineries and beaches beckon visitors to explore.

Punta  del  Este:  We were encouraged by friends to rent a car and explore the Uruguayan countryside, so that is what we did.  Leaving Colonia, we traveled down well maintained two and four lane highways lined with mature palm trees that give way to old growth pines.  Intermittently we saw rolling farmland, where acres of corn appears to be nearly matured and ready to pick.  Everything seems healthy and green, a contrast to the concrete cities we have lived in recently.  We were thrilled with good weather and temperatures that were in the 70’s.  Our drive to Punta del Este took about three hours from Colonia.  There were about three toll stops accounting for the well maintained roads no doubt.  Punta is a spit of land that separates the Rio Plata from the Atlantic Ocean. In the distance, this spit of land had multiple high rise apartments, condos and hotels resembling a miniature Miami skyline on one side and sand dunes along the beach side.   In the twenty-four hours that we visited, there was a steady wind whipping the waves into a frenzy that kept us from venturing into the sea.  But that didn’t stop the brave surfers from attempting to catch a few intermittently good waves.  A couple dozen talented energetic souls grabbed short boards and fought the surf for a long time to only benefit from just a few short rides.  Plenty of people rested or played along the shoreline, soaking up the last part of summer’s UV rays, while lifeguards kept careful vigil over those who dared the waves.   Also in attendance were hawkers selling clothing and an ice cream man making some brisk sales. 

Montevideo:   We left the windy beach behind for Montevideo, the Capital city.  It is a tired, worn down coastal town where we stayed for two nights.   During the month of January and February the city has many carnivals and parades; different than Rio we are told.   One of the reasons for our visit was to witness a bit of this during our stay.  We were also able to see a dinner theater show where one old female crooner, a bit past her prime, sang loudly and often off key, and young dancers wowed us with their tango and candombe (drumming and dance) skills. 

The next night we went to Carnivale, held at what was called the Velodromo, an old arena that may have once housed biking competitions.  For two months they hold this “Carnivale”, which amounts to acts taking the stage and singing songs in colorful costumes.  Much of what they were singing about was a tongue in cheek poke at politics and everyday Uruguayan lifestyle we were told.  However, even though the music was wonderful and the costumes interesting and pretty, we didn’t get much of the humor.  But for $18.00 for two tickets, we had near front row seats.   While waiting in line, we were entertained by two female “clowns” with red rubber noses.  Michael said to one very cute clown, “You have a funny nose.” And without breaking stride the clown answered back, “So do you!”  Even though we didn’t understand much, we stayed about two full hours and ended up leaving somewhere between 10 or 11 P.M. to a packed house of thousands.   The party looked like it was just getting started!!  Apparently the night doesn’t end until one or two A.M.   Like most carnival- like events, there were booths set up around the parameter selling food, drinks and t-shirts, some making money for various charities.  Occasionally people would walk through the crowd asking for donations to this or that organization.  Everyone seemed to know each other, and it was a very cheerful bunch of nice “mate sipping” people.

That brings me to some final thoughts on Uruguay.  The land is not unlike our rural areas, with scattered pines, palms, rolling hills and farmland.  If you dropped me into a seaside restaurant or along a country road, I would have no idea that I had left the U.S.   All people look and act just like us.  However in Uruguay, they have traditions that are similar to our coffee drinking, something called “mate”, which is an herb- like substance with a taste much like bitter green tea leaves.  This tradition, I read, was started centuries ago by indigenous Portuguese Indians.  Also mate was enjoyed by gauchos, who would be gone for days doing things gauchos do and this mate was ingested as a way of keeping awake on long rides.  Now a very large portion of the population consume mate all day long.  They carry a hot thermos or two in special carrying cases and have a special gourd or metal cup that serves as their mate cup, where they place the herbs.  They typically use one small handful of herbs a day where there is a continuous addition of hot water poured over the herb mixture.  This tea-like infusion is sipped through a metal straw.  It is a very social custom, meant to be shared with friends and even occasionally strangers, one cup, one straw-shared.  I am told it is a bitter tasting brew with a kick much like caffeine.  In Uruguay, it is carried everywhere but taboo to bring to the office.  In Argentina mate is mostly consumed at homes or private social settings.  Another common thing is eating ham and cheese.  It is served everywhere, even on airplanes in the form of sandwiches.  The bread is often hard and there is no mayo or mustard – it is just dry, dry, dry!! They even serve it for breakfast and everyone, except for us, seems to enjoy eating this for a meal or a snack.  If we never see ham and cheese again, when we return to the states, it will be just fine with us!

Michael has enjoyed practicing his Spanish with the locals and seems to be more comfortable with understanding them as the days pass.  He is impressed with the beautiful Uruguay countryside and the very pretty horses that seem to be in all the fields.  You can safely rent a car here, but the gas seems expensive and the deposit taken at the time of rental (against any possible damage) is expensive.   Yet, we found that having a car made us more independent and able to see the places we wanted to see. There are tour buses that will get you to the places we have gone, but on their time schedule and without the stops and extras that we were able to do with a car.  If you travel to Argentina or Uruguay, you will need adapters for the plugs.  Some require two pronged “V” shaped adaptors; others use two pin-like adaptors.   We stayed in some beautiful hotels, but others were much in need of paint and repair.  The hotel Europa in Montevideo was located in the older part of town and was in dire need of paint and new wallpaper, but don’t judge a book by its cover.  Even though there was a bit of mold on the walls by the air conditioner, and the tiles in the bathroom were chipped in places, I would go back again.  The people were very nice and helpful and the beds were very comfortable.   As an added bonus, every morning and afternoon an old guy would come in decked out in a suit and cute hat, and for two hours each day played beautiful music on the piano.  Next stop-Iguazu Falls, Argentina!!

Tango and Empanadas

February 9, 2012

I am writing this portion of my blog from another country-Uruguay.  We are currently spending the night in the town of Colonia, a small, old, historic town which is a one hour rough boat ride from Buenos Aires.  We found a small boutique hotel on line called Posada de Mayor.  It is a cute old inn with thick rock walls, dating back to the 1700’s when the Portuguese ruled this country.  The weather is much cooler than the humid weather to our west in Buenos Aires, as this is a port city along the Rio de Plata, which is a muddy brown river that turns silvery in color as the sun sets.   Our intention is to travel to Punta del Este tomorrow.  It is approximately a two hour drive southeast along the coast.  Punta del Este is where the well-heeled Argentinians go to play in the sun and the sand during the hottest months of the year.  But before I go on, I must discuss the subject of tango and empanadas. 

If you are going to eat empanadas you must learn to tango!  Empanadas in Argentina are essentially little, dough filled meat or cheese pies that are inexpensive ways to grab a quick, filling meal on the run.  In Columbia, empanadas are made with a corn meal crust and deep fried.  We loved one particular place near Museo de Oro that made them with a thin cornmeal crust and a delicious meat filling.  Add a little chimichuri sauce and you have a yummy snack or lunch.  But in Argentina the empanadas have a pastry crust covering the filling, which typically consists of various cheeses or meats that are baked.  They are a caloric morsel that we have enjoyed frequently throughout our trip.  What fascinates me is the difference between two cultures, using flour or corn for the outside covering.  This brings me to the idea that both empanadas from Columbia and Argentina are similar to the concept of meat pies that are favorites in Australia and parts of New Zealand.  The Aussies just took the idea a bit further and added a few things like potatoes and veggies to their pies and made them nearly double in size.  If you are going to eat empanadas, then you must learn to tango!!  The calories taken in could easily match those burned taking an hour long tango class.  Which is what I did yesterday afternoon; I took a tango class and ate empanadas afterward.  Both were delicious in their own way.  

I was lucky enough to take a class from a woman who once danced with the troupe Tango Argentina that toured the world.  She has had such notable students as Princess Di, Bill Clinton, and Robert Di Nero, to name a few.   I was one of five students, the only gringo and novice in the class.  The other four had been taking weekly classes for at least two years. One of the women was a petite, adorable woman who originally hailed  from England.  She told us that she spent her early years in Spain and has lived in Argentina for the past twenty years.   The past two years she has been in Buenos Aires, and apparently many hours of those two years have been spent taking this tango class.  This adorable woman told me in her English accent that she was single and that is was her favorite activity, “Once you start the tango it gets into your blood and you can’t stop taking lessons.”  She was so cute when I asked her if she got to go to some malongas (tango dance halls) to dance and she said with a chuckle, “No my dear, I couldn’t possibly go out after 8 pm to dance; why everyone might think I was looking for a man.”  I was lucky enough to get to dance with both the men in the class, one a doctor and one a lawyer.  I mention this because we all had a good laugh when I said I hoped he wasn’t a malpractice lawyer and I was told. “Of course all the good lawyers in Buenos Aires are malpractice lawyers!”  I also had an opportunity to dance with a very skilled co-instructor who was probably in his early thirties.  He was both handsome and talented.  He could make anyone feel like they had mastered the tango! 

At the end of the class, each participant had to pair up and give an exhibition of the steps we had learned.  I was relieved that since I was new and didn’t have a partner, I wouldn’t have to participate and make a fool of myself!   But then the Latin wizard took me in his arms, and we sailed across the floor with my feet going places that surprised us all.  It was so much fun that the hour flew by in just seconds.  If we were staying in Buenos Aires longer, I would definitely go back to enjoy the magic that happened that day!  However we are now on the road again and will be driving a rental car to all the places our friends Margo and Lowell recommended.  If we are lucky, we will find a winery along the way to sample some Uruguay wines paired with some local fish or meat dishes.   If no more Tango then no more empanadas!  We need to watch our waistlines!

We Meet By Chance

february 7, 2012

When we are traveling, we seem to have interesting Karma.  I am always surprised when we are able to coordinate a planned meeting that gets everyone to the same place at the appointed time.   But when meetings happen by chance, it is even more surprising in a cosmic sort of way!  Our day began mid-morning with a very long walk. In order to make arrangements to travel the rest of Argentina and into Uruguay, we needed to first find boat tickets and check the long distance bus schedule.  On this particular day, we chose to walk to work off all the pizzas, beer, and empanadas of the past few days. When we started out, it was a pleasantly warm, but not humid morning.  We purchased our boat tickets, but in order to get bus information, we had to walk several long blocks to the bus station.  This was a distance that became more and more difficult as the noontime heat intensified.  But we found the bus station and got the required information.  However, after covering what seemed like hundreds of miles (most likely only 5 miles), the humidity finally got to us, and I insisted that we grab a cab with the intention of going back to our cool, air conditioned apartment.  However, the closer we got, the need to eat pre-empted our return.  So we, by chance, settled on a cute café near our home.  Not long after being served we were greeted by a stranger who we soon recognized as Paul White, a friend from Manhattan Beach.  He said that he too had been wandering for miles and became just as hot, and happened to stop for a cooling glass of beer.  Not long after sitting, he noticed us sitting a few tables away.  Paul had no idea he was anywhere near where we were staying.  And even though we had communicated often by e-mail about meeting sometime during our stay, this meeting was not planned. I love when people meet by chance.   Last night we managed a planned time to connect with both Paul and Sharon for a Parrilla dinner.  The meal exceeded all our expectations for finding delicious and tender, wood-fire grilled beef.  It was a wonderful way to say our good byes to our friends prior to our early morning departure to Uruguay.

Hot Time, Summer in the Cemetery: Paying Our Respects to the Departed

february 7, 2012

We visited the Recoleta cemetery on the hottest day yet in Buenos Aires at 39+ degrees centigrade.  We entered the cemetery at noon (our normal crazy routine), and since we had missed the English tour guide, we grabbed a map and attempted to find the carrot in the maze--Eva Peron’s resting place.  With approximately 2000 monuments and mausoleums ranging between six to twelve feet high or more, it was not an easy task.  It was like going on a scavenger hunt…two old buzzards checking out the graves of others, long since departed.  Many of the stone or brick buildings have glass French doors that allow you to look into them and see fake, flower laden altars.  Very elaborate coffins rest beneath the altars.   Some of the coffins were in various stages of degradation, but many were well preserved and beautiful. All were made of century’s old carved wood, with thick, heavy brass handles and adornments. They reminded me of fine French or Spanish furniture.  Many of these “tiny homes” for the dead also had dust laden basements that held more coffins or urns, often stacked on top of each other. 

Eva’s resting place was in the Duarte family monument.  I wondered why she didn’t have a mausoleum of her own, which prompted me to do a little research on this interesting historical figure.  Eva was born to her unmarried mother in 1919 and was one of five children.  Her mother was soon abandoned by Eva’s father, whose surname was Duarte. The family was forced to live in near- poverty while the mother took in sewing and cleaned homes.  At age 15, Eva set her sights on becoming an actress and moved to Buenos Aires.  It wasn’t long before she fulfilled her dream by becoming a very popular radio actress, which also made her financially stable for the first time in her life.  She married Juan Peron at age 27 and was soon seen on his arm on the presidential campaign trail. As first lady, she was very involved in women’s rights and that of the poor.  She even campaigned to become vice-president for a period of time.  Because of her support of the labor unions and work with the poor she was very popular throughout the country.   

However Eva’s bid for vice-president had to be halted when she became ill with cervical cancer.  Unfortunately, even with surgery and experimental (at the time) chemotherapy she died at the young age of Thirty-three.  It seems that even in death Eva led an unsettled existence.  After her death she was embalmed with a special glycerin substance to keep her body from degrading.  Juan Peron kept her body in the office she once occupied, waiting for a monument to be resurrected in her honor where she would then be displayed for public viewing.  However, not more than two years later, Juan Peron was overthrown in a military coup and was exiled to Spain. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t make arrangements for Eva’s body, and the military secreted it away for a period of sixteen years.  Eventually her remains were recovered and sent to Spain, where Peron now lived with his third wife, Isabel.  It is said that Isabel and Juan kept Eva’s body on a platform in the kitchen by the table.  Eventually, after Juan’s death, Isabel rose to power and returned to Buenos Aires and brought Eva with her.  She decided to place the body into the unremarkable Duarte crypt where she remains buried securely today, several chambers below the ground.  However, it is rumored that Eva’s preference would have been to be buried in a more humble place among the common people. 

All the monuments to the departed were interesting on many levels.  One might believe that it is a wonderful place for relatives to visit and pay their respects on a regular basis.  Yet, it was obvious that once all the relatives were also taking their final rest within the chamber walls, that the buildings could fall into disrepair with no one left to care for them.  I noticed that a few of the earliest ones, made of brick, appeared on the verge of disintegration into dust, leaving the urns and coffins sadly unprotected and open to the elements.  Our self-guided tour lasted a little over an hour, and with the heat of the day projecting off the granite and marble monuments and stone paths, unlike Eva, we began to melt, and sought refuge in our own hideout within the cool modern apartment walls.

Attitude Adjustment: Buenos Aires

Days two and Three

Our first night in Buenos Aires started with a former classmate and friend, Sharon Boyd, who has known Michael since childhood.  She has been living in Buenos Aires for five months, teaching English, and has learned a lot of what makes this city tick.   Because it was raining, we had a quick tour of our part of town known as Recoleta.  As we walked, it began to rain even harder with the wind trying to blow the umbrellas inside out. I wondered why we couldn’t just put the tour off for another day.  But having since experienced the heat of Argentina, I now realize what a relief rain is here and why everyone seemed to be enjoying it so much.  During our walk, we discovered that we are near the Recoleta cemetery with numerous fancy, tall, old crypts housing the remains of many famous and infamous Argentinians.  Across the street is a large, rather new shopping center with such establishments as a TGIF Friday’s, McCafe, multiplex theaters, book stores and dozens of upscale clothing stores.  Nearby, down narrow streets, are several cute and charming small restaurants that serve mostly pizza and beer.  One such establishment even has pizza delivery guys who manage their deliveries quickly on inline skates.

Our wonderful guide, Sharon, chose a small restaurant not far from our residence for us to have our first Argentine meal.  “French” serves many things that are wonderful, but it did not seem particularly French in cuisine and unfortunately for the owner, it was empty except for us.  That being the case, we got the most wonderful service, and the food was plentiful, reasonably priced, and delicious!  By now you have read about our first full day in Buenos Aires. Not a particularly great start, but being resilient (along with you for reading this blog) we started out our second day and the subsequent ones in much better humor.

On our second day we got back on the tour bus to finish out our time and hitch a free ride to one of the points of interest-the Galerias Pacifico Mall. The Mall first opened over a hundred years ago in 1891, in the likeness of a similar shopping area in Milan. Unfortunately, it ran into difficulties not long after opening because of an economic crisis.  For many years it served as an office space for the Pacifico Rail Road Company until, in 1992, when it was re-imagined into the beautiful space it is today.   I chose this particular place because it was one of the only old buildings on the tour that was open, plus it had air conditioning and food to entice Michael to come along.   It was just as spectacular as the tour guide promised.   The mall is housed in one of the most beautiful buildings in the city, with glass cupolas and Michelangelo-like fresco
painted   on some arched ceilings. There are three floors of stores and a large 1^st floor

full of restaurants.  I was mostly interested in checking out the famous Escuela Argentina de Tango Dance Center that takes up a large portion of the third floor space. The shopping portion of the mall is impressive.  There are numerous fancy stores that could satisfy the wants and needs of any well healed shopper who had a lot of Argentine Pesos.  I noticed that the prices were at about 25-40% percent more than the prices for the similar quality items in Manhattan Beach. But the prices were probably similar to those in New York City or Paris.   I found that the dance center was very private.  I had hoped to find classes in session that we could watch, but I came away disappointed.  However they do have a performance schedule that has an interesting Tango show that we are considering for another evening. 

Today we met with Sharon again to go to the San Telmo area where only on Sundays the town is host to antique dealers and crafts people who set up booths.  I could have wandered the streets for days.  The town itself is charming, with wrought iron balconies, shuttered windows and cobblestone streets.  Add to that literally miles of booths, street performers, attractive restaurants and colorful visitors and you have enough to delight and entertain anyone for hours.  It was here that we saw our first live Tango performance, ate some wonderful empanadas, and listened to a fabulous jazz quartet. 

Unlike Pacifico, with its upscale trendy fashions, San Telmo had interesting talented people selling their one of a kind crafts.  With so many fabulous things to choose from, it is a place that should be re-visited to select the just right items for gifts and personal gratification.  Sadly, the market only takes place on Sundays, and we don’t have any more Sundays left in Buenos Aires. Also there would never be enough room in our suitcases to carry all the things I was tempted to purchase.  Looking at the pictures of some of the unusual glassware makes me wish for the ability to drag some of it home!

During the next few days we plan to pay our respects to Eva Peron during a tour of the famous Recoleta Cemetery.  We must find a tango lesson and show if I can keep Michael awake long enough, as many do not start until 10:30 pm. And we have made plans to go to Uruguay for the weekend.  The time goes quickly, especially when it is necessary to spend a chunk of time planning for the weeks ahead.  In our future is Iguassu Falls and Mendoza, in the opposite direction.  Nestled near the Andes, Mendoza is apparently a wonderful town famous for its wineries and great food.  

Jet lag and Cranky: In Search of Carne de Argentina

February 3, 2012 First full Day

The city of Buenos Aries is quite large in comparison to the other cities we have visited thus far. It has different sectors or barrios (neighborhoods), and because of this, it is easy to pick out the areas that are of interest and fully enjoy what the city has to offer in a very organized manner.  So to get a complete look around, we started by hopping on the tourista bus that circles all the neighborhoods. By plugging in a headset, you tune it into the language of choice and get information about the sites and points of interest that you are near.  Between narrations, there is some kitschy tango music that plays in the background.  We opted for the top of the double decker bus where the view was best and the air was circulating fairly well without any windows.   It is quite hot and humid here, and we were still recovering from several nights without sleep.  So for us, getting on and off the bus, more than once, was not in the cards.  However, sitting on the bus and listening to not so authentic tango music that repeats over and over the same tune didn’t take long to become annoying.  But everything was fine for the first hour or so. We saw many monuments, beautiful buildings, and large parks that were often inhabited by the homeless who had set up camp, complete with laundry drying on the monuments.  

After about 2 hours (out of the 3 that it takes to complete the 20 stops on the route) my sciatic nerve running down my right leg was yelling (no, screaming really), irritated, no doubt, from two overnight flights in a row!  It was getting hot, and I was ready to jump overboard!!  I had foolishly let my tolerance to the situation go beyond what I should have.  I overestimated my ability to (as Michael says) “Suck it up” until the end.  So at the next stop I abruptly stood up and suggested (no, demanded) that it was time to leave!!  We got off even though there really was nothing of interest in that particular area.  I hoped walking would help my pain problem, and perhaps we could find something to eat and drink as it was way past time for lunch! 

The two things we were told not to miss were seeing a live tango show, and to have red meat whenever possible, as “Argentina has the best meat in the world.”  This seemed like the perfect time to test that premise.  We dropped into the closest, most inviting establishment we could find.  It had a cute bar, white cloth napkins and plenty of customers in various stages of service.  Many were reading newspapers or books they had brought or were sipping wine and engaged in conversation.  Realizing that there was cold white wine, beer, sodas and parrilla (Argentine beef) on the menu, we decided to stay.  Because the seats were not padded, I decided to stand for a while to settle my sciatic nerve.  In an effort not to look too foolish, I stood over Michael’s shoulder to read the menu.   Since it was in Spanish, it took a while, and the screaming nerve began to settle down. 

Soon enough the waitress took our order, which consisted of a fresh Greek salad and steak.  Michael made a point to go up to the waitress (who had left our table) and impressed upon her our desire to have the meat rojo, or rare.   He said it in Spanish and English just for emphasis.  She nodded her head and soon brought us some fresh rolls, cold white wine, and for Michael, a soda.  An hour later, as I stretched the sips of wine down to a few drops, and the Pepsi had lost most of its fizz, we inquired about our meal that hadn’t arrived.  Not quite understanding the waitress’s answer, but guessing that it would take a bit longer, we requested that the salad be served while we waited for the meat to arrive.  We slowly enjoyed the salad during which time we joked back and forth about possible reasons that the meat was taking so long.  It had to be marinated, they had to kill the cow, they broke the grill, the chief quit, and so forth. 

But eventually we no longer found the Latin time schedule funny, my sciatic nerve began to yell again, and my wine glass was empty.  Ordering another glass of wine would have just made me tipsy in my sleep deprived state. Finally the steak did arrive, but it was well done!  It was so well done that it was difficult to cut and was tasteless. So with some prodding by me, Michael sent the meat back, only to be told that it would be another half an hour to produce another one.  I don’t know how the Argentines grill rare steak, but at my house it only takes about four minutes a side!!  Because I was not able to sit any longer, we paid the bill, minus the over-cooked steak, and departed!  We are still on a quest for the “best steak ever” that is only found in Argentina!!  Oh, and still no tango lessons!!  But hopefully that will happen very, very soon! Tomorrow we will try the local empanadas.  We hear the Argentines make the best empanadas ever!!

FIRST KILL THE ROOSTERS: RETURN TO SOUTH AMERICA

January 31, 2012

We hate all night flights more than most people, I think.  While Michael seems to be able to nap intermittently, unless I can put my legs up and recline a bit, I am not able to sleep, making me fidgety and miserable.  So lucky us-- we have not one but two “all-nighters” in a row!   It was wonderful to return home to LA.  The weather could not have been more beautiful, and the warmth and love from our friends and relatives was rejuvenating.  It is comforting to have the food we missed so much, like fresh green salads, roasted chicken, and a few glasses of wine.  Yes, just simple things like being able to go to Target or Trader Joe’s and know where everything was, and find what we needed at a reasonable price is something we all take for granted until one is deprived of this for a couple of months, like we just were. Only then do you realize how important those simple things really are.  I had to go to the mall even though I didn’t need anything.  It was important for me to be able to walk around without worrying about prices, translation, money exchange problems, or the fear of dangerous nefarious characters bugging me.  It was good to have a little unexpected, hometown shot in the arm to prepare us for the rest of our journey.  However, I do want to add one thing to bring everyone up to date on the rest of our stay in Margarita VZ. 

Had it not been for meeting wonderful new friends, Antonio and Carli, in line at Bogota airport, we would not have enjoyed our time there nearly as much.  These wonderful people are from Margarita and made sure we saw the best the island had to offer.  We were lucky enough to be with them on several occasions during our stay.  Carli not only gave us two half day tours, but one night we shopped in a local store and went back to their condo where I was able to cook with her in their kitchen.  Since they have children studying abroad in Canada, we hope that someday soon they will bless us with the opportunity to show them our city and introduce them to my kitchen!

We have four and a half more months of travel.  Because the last month is spent in the familiar territory of Buena Vista, the first three and a half will be totally adventure and surprise, which we look forward to even with the  knowledge that some of it might not always be pleasant.  Take the last 24 hours for example.  We started with flying all night long, broken up by three different flights-- one to El Salvador, then Costa Rica, then on to Caracas.  We had an unexpected tight connection between CR and Caracas that called for an early morning run through the airport. We ran one way just to find that the gate was changed, and had to turn around and run twice as far in the other direction with only 5 minutes to spare.  It is never pleasant to run on little sleep, but with a full bladder (me) and Michael’s added heart problems, it is really not fun at all!   However, I am glad he is now getting the cardiac rehab he refuses to do at home!!  Then add the hour of customs and waiting for bags, and the unexpected complication of not having the address to our hotel, which necessitated a WiFi café experience at the airport to find the information.  I was under the false assumption that the hotel’s name alone was good enough-- not so!  Add to that a 45 minute cab ride to our destination with both of us greatly anticipating the comfort of a bed.  We would have been grateful for a hammock, two chairs put together, anything that would allow us to lie down and get some sleep! Unfortunately, I was not prepared for what we found.

We are finding that when you find hotels on the internet they aren’t always as nice as the pictures they post.  Like Margarita Island, we are once again surrounded by a very poor neighborhood. While our room is a fairly clean and spacious one bedroom apartment-like facility, the bed is old and worn out and not at all comfortable. The sheet covering the mattress is thin revealing many rips and tears along the seams. This left me conjuring up nightmares about which one of our nearby neighbors might have discarded this mattress, and there being no nearby dumps, it ended up recycled here in our room!!  However, knowing this was just a temporary setback, and the need for sleep so overpowering, I soon trusted the ability of my robust immune system to fight any possible altercations with all the germs we might be exposed to and drifted off into a fitful slumber until the roosters started crowing at 3 am!! 

Fortunately, we were fine until this morning.  At breakfast by the pool, I was attacked by the invisibles again. These unseen mosquito’s cause intense, burning pain that doesn’t let up without generous cortisone cream, antihistamine doses, and Advil.  We are currently hiding back in our room, dreading the next night flight that we will take tonight at 7:30 pm to Argentina. Fortunately there is just one layover in Sao Paulo.  However, we do see a light at the end of this torture.  We have no more flights for six weeks and we are staying in a nice apartment in a good area of Buenos Aires for as long as we want to be there.  Additionally we have a good friend who has lived there for five months who is going to meet us tomorrow and help us get acquainted quickly. Other than some heat and humidity, we have been told we will be in a place that will be both fascinating and beautiful.  Tango lesions here we come!!