Robert and Freddie...

Since our last post, a couple of interesting things have happened.

I have invited a group of really talented organisms into my intestines. They're really nice. I'm trying to teach them English, and they're trying to teach me a different kind of language that uses smells and textures instead of sounds to communicate! They have to go soon, though. But it's been really fun having them, and I hope that they learned a lot about me, because I sure learned a lot about them! The little fuckers... god bless 'em.

So that has but a bit of a damper on things. I actually had a touch of what must have been the 'flu before that! So it's been a very low-impact stay-at-home week. Well, mostly. There were actually two times that I didn't feel bad, and lo and behold, during those two times, there were two amazingly great things happening.

Thing No. 1: We met Juan and his friend Maria José at a Jazz bar around the corner from us called "Thelonious", a hole-in-the-wall named for the great one-legged Leafs defenceman of the '40s. Just kidding! ... the '60s.

Anyway, Maria José's cousin, Pepi Taveira, was the front-man/drummer for the group, and they were fantastic; this was the peak of jazz in Buenos Aires, where, according to Juan and M-J, there are very few Jazz fans, but both Jen and I thought that their show was extremely good stuff.

Thing No. 2: The other high-point of the week was a party hosted by my Spanish school buddy Jim. He's an American from the outskirts of Philly here to have fun and learn the language while working limited hours for German bankers. He's a mere 21 years old. How did he do in ... zero years what it took me 10 years to accomplish, I ask you?

Jim and his two lovely roommates live together in a 10-storey apartment in San Telmo, and they decided to host a "ROCK STARS, AND THEIR SONGS" party. Well, needless to say Jen became quite excited at the thought of a costume party invite: "Our second week, and already a costume party!" were her exact elated words.

So to make a long story short, I had a Freddie Mercury costume painstakingly hand-made for me by a custom costume artist; the whole ensemble cost me $827US. Jen made a Robert Plant costume out of her own body parts. Total cost: $0.07, for the flour to stick her own hair to a piece of cardboard.

I will let the pictures do the talking. It was a very fun time. There were people from Belgium, Sweden, Columbia, Argentina (of course), Britain, US, Lebanon, Mexico, etc. in attendance, so there was plenty to learn about whackos from around the world. Mexican No. 2 is the brave man dressed as Flea, with the blue sequines taped to his junk.

The guy waving his arms around and yelling is the neighbour across the way. He was saying: "Thank you for your tremendous rock party! I'm having fun here too with my ornery wife and two screaming children! I hope the noise of my children is not disturbing your very powerful rock marathon!".

Week two of Spanish lessons began today. They are going very well, for both of us! Soon you will no longer have abled to for be understanding it English for my...

First day of school...

After about a week of completely pathetic Spanish/Castellano-spazzing, we are now taking lessons at a place called eLeBaires with a lovely team of super-friendly teachers. They are great! They have trouble not kissing their students constantly. It is really a wonder that any teaching happens at all, considering how much kissing goes on.

When the lips were finally put away, we got down to business, Jen in a class with one other person (a dude from Montreal actually), and I in a class with two others (a South Korean student, and a New Mexican writer spending most of his time in Ecuador, particularly the Galapagos).

I followed the logical aspects of todays lesson perfectly. The problem is that I don't actually know any words in Spanish. At any rate, there was a lot of good conversation, and I learned the important difference between.... that one thing... imperfecto... and the other thing. And the difference is... one is either used to describe... things... that only happen once, but are habitual... or something. So I'm basically a total expert, and I'm tempted to stop taking lessons so that I can concentrate on the very fine points of cutting-edge Spanish literature research.

Jen liked her lesson; she actually knows words, and can use them, strung together, to make her thoughts known to other humans.

In the last couple of days, we've taken in some fun things. There's a summer arts festival happening right now, put on by the municipal government of BsAs. They call themselves gobBsAs. The first night we saw an eight-piece band featuring the dulcet tones of the Theramin juxtaposed with 350-pound near-ex soprano voice wailing her fool head off. It was really cool, actually. Best described as a dog's breakfast; no rehearsal could have happened, and playing in tune, especially Theramin vs. Soprano, was very optional. And yet, in spite of all this, it was really cool.

The second show was even more hilarious. We thought we were walking only a couple of blocks to a park behind the Planetario Galileo Galilei. A couple of blocks became a 7km pilgrimage with about fifty stoner kids through a mess of parkland and highways. It was a real test of our staying power; we didn't know where we were going, how far away it was, or what music we might find once we got there. We only had the name of the guy/band to keep the hope alive: Catupecu Machu.

Our pilgrim numbers were made strong by multitudes of tributary person-flows. Then, over the horizon, the lighted temple arose. There were about 100,000 people singing along with Catupecu Machu, from young rockers and misunderstood middle-aged people to pregnant ladies. It was something else. Everyone knew what was going on but us. The closest North American analogue we could come up with was Pearl Jam; a really huge band that appealed to troubled youth about 10 years ago, but are now extremely rich and bald, and no longer have any cause to be angry (or bald).

So that was interesting... We made it back to a local bar in time to watch the last half of a very famous Argentine football rivalry in full effect: Boca Juniors vs. River Plate. As far as we could tell, this was only a summer tournament, featuring mostly drunken bums, 13-year-old future superstars, and skinny no-talent losers. River Plate beat the crap out of Boca, 3-0. The fact that the players and crowd did not erupt into any sort of violence during or after the game was the clearest indication that the game was meaningless. But it was great to watch people in the bar react to game highlights. There was much pointing and laughing at Boca fans. We weren't cheering for either team, but at one point I did gasp in amazement at a very tasty passing play executed by River, and Jen told me I should be careful.

A couple of weird things about Argentina to report:

• All four wheels on grocery carts rotate freely. Think about that...
• People don't pick up after their pooches. Or poopches, as I call them. Or crapches, as Jen calls them.
  
• Parakeets rule the streets.
• Suzuki makes telephones. We are fortunate to own a GSX-P750RR. Top speed: 272 km/h.

We went back to San Telmo and checked out the flea market. It was great! Huge. We didn't buy anything. We don't really need... uh... any crap. For example, see the photo of the thousands of tiny toys. Can you see Chewbacca's head? To be fair, there was some great art and some nice vintage watches. I am very tempted by some square-faced automatic Omega Constellations (whatever those are... but they seem cheap).

And, as bonus material, here is a picture of a Czech motorcycle for Francis, Jonny, and Paula.

There are two kinds of people...

We go out for walks daily and still haven't come close to running out of new material. In an innocent effort to see the Fine Arts Gallery, we were nearly consumed by a giant prosthetic flower sent to Argentina in 2002 by an alien species called "Las Naciones Unidas". It is really something to see; polished aluminum petals that actually open and close. We didn't see it happen, but it does.

Today we went to check out a gym membership for Jen. The club was interesting; picture piling a normal gym's worth of stuff, including swimming pool, into a long and skinny storefront having 4 storeys. It was very hot and sweaty today, so the gym was mostly empty.

We are trying to decide what to do with our lives after Buenos Aires, which may happen as soon as March. We figure that waiting too long to go to the South of Argentina may result in problems with the weather (like cold and rain). That is where a lot of the good hiking is, so we may go there in March.

We are then considering going to a city called Mendoza, which is in wine country, and sits at the foot of the Andes. It is apparently a very nice place as well, and from the sounds of it, both Bariloche and Mendoza would provide easy high-speed internet access which would keep me working.

We are considering going out to a place called "Notorious" tonight, which is a record store chain and live music venue rolled into one. It seems to be mostly Jazz, and according to one review I read, it's easy to under-dress, which for me is pretty much an automatic, even in places like Nanaimo, so that's a bit of a concern. Whatever, I'll just say I'm a fashion designer and hope for the best. In terms of the rest of the music scene, we haven't really been hit over the head with anything yet (except bird shit, branches, low-hanging signage and awnings).

Jen has been pooed on by birds twice in her life; the first time it was a duck, which may not count since their poo is pretty hard, and the second time, just yesterday, it was a pigeon. I have never been shit on by any kind of bird. My nephew Stan once finger-painted in bird poo at the Biodome in Montreal, and the cleanup effort was pretty messy, but I don't think that could count against me. There are two kinds of people in the world; those who have been shit on by birds, and those who haven't. Which kind are you?

Down to Business...

The AC adapter bridge super-project has been completed. I'd like to thank all of the dedicated workers for their tireless efforts. I can now sit anywhere in the apartment and work. My lap is warm...

Our apartment is at the intersection of Charcas and J. L. Borges, in a neighbourhood (barrio) called Palermo SOHO. A sub-barrio of Palermo, which is a name loosely given to a large area of town surrounding the complex of parks close to our apartment.

Walking east along J. L. Borges from our apartment, you hit Santa Fe, which is a busy commercial street that stretches all the way to the downtown core (Microcentro), and is packed with storefronts the whole way. Crossing Santa Fe leads into the complex of public parks, botannical gardens, and zoo.

If you walk in the opposite direction along J. L. Borges from our apartment, after passing art galleries, cafes and restaurants, you meet Plaza Serrano. The plaza is surrounded by about eight bar/cafes with outdoor patios, rooftop terrasses, and open windows. This is the rue Prince Arthur for under-35s. On Sundays there is an arts and fashion sale in the plaza and surrounding streets. We were there last Sunday, and it was ridiculously packed. I'm too large physically to have a good time at such events, so we escaped into one of the bars and had a pizza.

The blocks immediately surrounding us are packed with grocery stores (tiendas), bars, pharmacies and newsstands. The subte line is two blocks away, and we found a good wine/cheese/tapas specialty store a block away, so we have been supernaturally fortunate in terms of landing in a convenient spot! It has also felt extremely safe up to this point, so we have high hopes.

Lamp stores and pharmacies are everywhere.

Yesterday's adventure was going out to see a lecture on the history of Argentina by a foreign policy student. The lecture was held in a clubhouse for American expats in a barrio called San Telmo, which is an old, narrow cobbled neighbourhood with freely pissing street dogs and auto shops carved into decaying alleys. It is well on its way to gentrification; artists have moved in, and there are very definite signs of a move towards increased hipness. For example, in the midst of light decay, there is a Puma running-shoe storefront that features signed-by-the-artist designer sneakers.

The lecture focussed on Peronism, the polarized political climate, US-Argentine relations leading up to the economic collapse of 2001, and the current political landscape. It is a very interesting history, and the young guy who gave the talk, named Mariano, did a wonderful job of answering questions and painting a broad picture of the country's history.

The clubhouse itself is a cool space; one half of the three-storey space is open to the roof, and you can see walkways on the other two floors overlooking this open space.

We walked around San Telmo after the lecture in search of food, and found a place called La Farmacia. We sat on the roof of the two-storey building, which was covered in cacti and vines, and had a really great avocado salad and some extremely rich cabernet.

The rooftop was packed by this point, and we invited a couple to sit with us at our four-seater since we were about to leave. These guys were locals of Buenos Aires (who call themselves Portenos), and happened to have excellent English, so after a few minutes of conversation we realized that we needed to order more beer. Being forced out of necessity to speak English to native Argentinians has really ratcheted up my desire to learn passable Spanish...

Ricardo and Juan had just bought an apartment in San Telmo, and described the neighbourhood to us in detail, as well as the relative pros and cons of other Buenos Aires barrios. They both love to travel, but have been somewhat limited in their trips abroad since the peso crash of 2001. As a consequence they have developed a very keen sense of shoestring travel around South America, and they had an abundance of really great advice for us concerning our own travels. So it was great to meet these guys, and we'll keep in touch with them over the next couple of months.

We took a Radio Taxi home, and that was the end of our first San Telmo experience. I managed to get a couple of hours of work done after that, amazingly. I'm finding that the late dinner hour of about 10:30PM has had very strange effects on me. I go to bed at 3AM, wake up at 10AM feeling refreshed, and work in 2-3 hour spurts at any time between 10AM and 3AM.

This morning Jen went back to the South American Clubhouse to do yoga with young American women. I was sorely tempted, but I forgot my unitard in Victoria...

Day One: The rest...

Our first semi-serious walk was only about 4 hours long, but it seemed much longer to me. We began by walking through the botanical gardens, hanging out with the Hermanos de Julio (see photo of statuesque black cat). This garden is about 3 blocks from our front door, so we'll be taking many walks through it, I'm sure.

En route to getting an obelisk thingy out of the way (a monument to the unsuccessful first attempt at founding Buenos Aires, located on the famous Avenida 9 de Julio, named for the date of national independence), we stopped by to check out the medical library. It was in a nice big parthenony building next to a torn up park with a military horse-riding guy in the middle of it. It was too torn up to read the plaque revealing the identity of Señor Horsie, but I'm sure he was a wonderful man, and I means him no disrespeck.


The library was closed, but it looked like it would probably contain a lot of useful books. So that was satisfying.

The Avenida 9 de Julio itself was an amazing mass of moving cars; a complete waste of time, in other words. The obelisk was pretty big, I guess.

We then made our way to the subte (metro) stop that would take us home, but we found that, for one day only, the entire line was not running in order to allow for the institution of something new. Our Spanish broke down on the key noun revealing what this new thing was, but I'm sure it's going to be awesome.

Complete day number one draws to a close after a mediocre dinner and two 1L Heinies at two very different bars. It's all so weird, I don't know where to begin. But I know where to end. Right here, mis hermanos.

Day One: Pre-Sally, whatever that means...

We have arrived in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and are already highly organized. I have a pile of AC adapters in the middle of the floor, and Jen has a pile of coffee-making tools on the counter. We will spend the next couple of days trying to turn our respective piles into high-output productivity centres.

We landed late yesterday evening and only had time for a short walk before the seeing-double-from-exhaustion problem forced us back to our apartment. We had sandwiches on a very cool terrasse about a block and a half from our apartment; Casa del Popolo meets Le Figaro, with Buenos Aires squeegies and young children filling the streets around us. There were only sixteen embarassing language moments during the restaurant transaction, and I feel that there is room for improvement.

The cheap booze rumours have been confirmed, as have the cheap drunk after 24 hours of air travel rumours.

Now, after 16 hours in bed, we both feel... weird. But we're heading out for a more thorough walk now.