My Iguazu trip made me realize something. Until know I did not have to put most of my stuff to use, but now that I made good use of my hiking shoes and my traveling pack, I realize that they are falling apart. It is quite sad. These hiking shoes saw me through amazing trips, including our trip to Mount Washington two and a half years ago, but two and a half years are a long time for hiking shoes that also get worn for walking, and they are starting to develop a certain holiness.
My pack is even older. I bought it during my year in Israel, and it saw me through all the trips that my hiking shoes have been through and then some, including yam l'yam, and the bottom is about to fall out. Of course, the wetness of Iguazu hasn't helped them much, and they are literally on their last ropes. When I get home I am going to have to buy myself a new sturdy large travel pack and good hiking shoes. How interesting that I return home not too far from my birthday! Hmmm... Now that I think about it, if I had a birthday wish-list (which of course I don't, but if I did) this trip has made me realize some of the things I would put on it, including said items, which I really need, decent winter biking gear, biking equipment for the cross-country ride, and, something that I really don't need but could come in handy traveling, and Amazon Kindle (all those books and so easy to carry!!!)
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Makes Niagara Look Like a Leaky Faucet
Iguazu was amazing. Utterly Unbelievable. Before I went, one of my Argentine friends told me that she is skeptical about Iguazu. "I mean," she said, "it's just a lot of falling water."
Well, I guess even something so boring as falling water, in the right place and in the right quantities, can be an amazing experience.
The bus ride up to Iguazu was an 18 hour ride, but I have heard much about the excellence of the Argentine inter-city bus system and the wonders that they perform; that they have extremely comfortable chairs that turn into beds, that they serve food, that they have great movies and a/c and bathrooms and they are comfortable and easy to sleep in and big and spacious and raise the dead and walk on water etc.
Well, unfortunately, almost none of those were true on the trip up. The a/c did not work, they forgot water (so thirsty...) the seats went almost-ish back, though the comfy, but they blasted (really loud) three of the worst movies ever made, movies I had never heard about before the bus trip, movies that I had hoped never to know of, movies that, by all standards of decency, should not exist. I completely forgot everything about one of the movies, perhaps because it was so traumatizing, one of the names of these movies escapes, but it was some horrible story (if you could call it that) about a bride who dies on her wedding day and comes back to haunt her ex's love life, and the other was, get this, "Confessions of a Shopaholic." What the hell kind of name for a movie is that? They give that title to the movie and they expect to sell tickets? It was pure pure torture, and the headphone jacks did not work, so the movie was blasted throughout the entire bus at an extremely high volume; my Ipod at max would not drown out those movies. I had to make the best of the situation and try to use the Spanish subtitles to learn a bit, but having my brains dribble out of my ears stopped me from picking up anything useful.
We arrived in Puerto Iguazu at around 8ish, and I wandered the town looking for a hostel with an opening; I finally found one but check wasn't until 10, so I left my stuff and went to the park. The sky was ominously gray.
As I passed by an information booth I overheard a middle-aged fellow asking (in English) how to get to the Garganta del Diablo (there are three trails that lead to different observation points; the Paseo Superior, the Paseo Inferior, both of which view the main section of the falls, and the Garganta, the Devil's Throat, an experience in and of itself). I told him that I was walking there myself, and that they could join me, and so he and his sister and I walked to the Garganta. 30 seconds into our introduction he said something along the lines of "well, us Jews need to stick together." Turns out he and his sister are Hungarian secular intellectual Jews. He lives in California, she in New York, and we hung out for the entire morning and into the afternoon, walking to the Garganta and the Paseo Inferior, and hanging by their hotel pool (the Sheraton; they bought me a juice). The conversation was quite interesting, and he especially reminded me of Sabba in conversation (v'hameivin yavin).
After we split I went to the boat ride, which takes you into (literally into) the falls. Niagara has the fluffy cutesy "Maid of the Mist," but Iguazu has the "Pro-WWF Wrestler of the Holy-freaking-moly I am inside the actual waterfall."
It started to pour while we stood on line, which was a bit of a downer, but I met a Texan video game designer on the line, and I saw one of the neater things of the trip so far. There was a girl in front of us and she had a tattoo right above her, well, her tushy (everyone but me, the idiot, was in a bathing suit). The tattoo, however, was the inscription of the One Ring in Elvish. Two very different worlds collide. After the boat ride, soaked, with no chance of drying off in the pouring rain, I went back to town. In the hostel I showered and dried off, and spent the rest of the evening in conversation with various Israelis, Americans, and a Dutch girl. I also ran into two Israelis that were staying at the hostel in Buenos Aires, and we decided to travel together the next morning.
The next morning we woke up bright and early and,lo and behold, praise be, the sky was (mostly) sunny and the day was gorgeous! We took the first bus into the Park and did the Selva Macuco, a lesser known 'off-road' trail that was all mud. The two Israelis were fun to hang out with, a classic pair of friends that remind me of another pair. The highlight of their interactions happened as one of them, Penny, and I were talking (for quite a while, in Hebrew) and finally, the other, Yigal, said, "Nu, kvar, mishtamesh b'eynayim shelcha, l'chapes l'eizeh kof o mashehu," which means "Come on man, use your eyes to look for a monkey or something!" Penny responds to this by saying, in thick Israeli accent:
the accent is important
remember to imagine this with the accent
"Legolas, what do your elf-eyes see?"
Amazing.
Anyway, we saw no wildlife on the way down the 3.5km trail, but at the end there was a pool with a smaller waterfall. I immediately took of my shirt and went in; Penny soon followed. I should have taken off my pants, but it was totally worth it. Standing beneath a waterfall was amazing, the highlight of the trip. On our way back from the pool, soaked, we saw a toucan (finally!). The rest of the day I spent doing the Paseo Superior, and I left the park exactly on time, right before the sky opened up once again. Back in Puerto Iguazu I walked to the Tres Fronteras (a point where you can see Brazil and Paraguay all at once, showered, and got on a bus to go home (it was supposed to arrive at 9, but got back at 12:30, yet another failure of the famed Argentine bus service). The trip was amazing, and even with the buses, given a choice to go back, I still would have done it. Do check out the pictures on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2082182&id=43906579&l=b9cc758a93
Well, I guess even something so boring as falling water, in the right place and in the right quantities, can be an amazing experience.
The bus ride up to Iguazu was an 18 hour ride, but I have heard much about the excellence of the Argentine inter-city bus system and the wonders that they perform; that they have extremely comfortable chairs that turn into beds, that they serve food, that they have great movies and a/c and bathrooms and they are comfortable and easy to sleep in and big and spacious and raise the dead and walk on water etc.
Well, unfortunately, almost none of those were true on the trip up. The a/c did not work, they forgot water (so thirsty...) the seats went almost-ish back, though the comfy, but they blasted (really loud) three of the worst movies ever made, movies I had never heard about before the bus trip, movies that I had hoped never to know of, movies that, by all standards of decency, should not exist. I completely forgot everything about one of the movies, perhaps because it was so traumatizing, one of the names of these movies escapes, but it was some horrible story (if you could call it that) about a bride who dies on her wedding day and comes back to haunt her ex's love life, and the other was, get this, "Confessions of a Shopaholic." What the hell kind of name for a movie is that? They give that title to the movie and they expect to sell tickets? It was pure pure torture, and the headphone jacks did not work, so the movie was blasted throughout the entire bus at an extremely high volume; my Ipod at max would not drown out those movies. I had to make the best of the situation and try to use the Spanish subtitles to learn a bit, but having my brains dribble out of my ears stopped me from picking up anything useful.
We arrived in Puerto Iguazu at around 8ish, and I wandered the town looking for a hostel with an opening; I finally found one but check wasn't until 10, so I left my stuff and went to the park. The sky was ominously gray.
As I passed by an information booth I overheard a middle-aged fellow asking (in English) how to get to the Garganta del Diablo (there are three trails that lead to different observation points; the Paseo Superior, the Paseo Inferior, both of which view the main section of the falls, and the Garganta, the Devil's Throat, an experience in and of itself). I told him that I was walking there myself, and that they could join me, and so he and his sister and I walked to the Garganta. 30 seconds into our introduction he said something along the lines of "well, us Jews need to stick together." Turns out he and his sister are Hungarian secular intellectual Jews. He lives in California, she in New York, and we hung out for the entire morning and into the afternoon, walking to the Garganta and the Paseo Inferior, and hanging by their hotel pool (the Sheraton; they bought me a juice). The conversation was quite interesting, and he especially reminded me of Sabba in conversation (v'hameivin yavin).
After we split I went to the boat ride, which takes you into (literally into) the falls. Niagara has the fluffy cutesy "Maid of the Mist," but Iguazu has the "Pro-WWF Wrestler of the Holy-freaking-moly I am inside the actual waterfall."
It started to pour while we stood on line, which was a bit of a downer, but I met a Texan video game designer on the line, and I saw one of the neater things of the trip so far. There was a girl in front of us and she had a tattoo right above her, well, her tushy (everyone but me, the idiot, was in a bathing suit). The tattoo, however, was the inscription of the One Ring in Elvish. Two very different worlds collide. After the boat ride, soaked, with no chance of drying off in the pouring rain, I went back to town. In the hostel I showered and dried off, and spent the rest of the evening in conversation with various Israelis, Americans, and a Dutch girl. I also ran into two Israelis that were staying at the hostel in Buenos Aires, and we decided to travel together the next morning.
The next morning we woke up bright and early and,lo and behold, praise be, the sky was (mostly) sunny and the day was gorgeous! We took the first bus into the Park and did the Selva Macuco, a lesser known 'off-road' trail that was all mud. The two Israelis were fun to hang out with, a classic pair of friends that remind me of another pair. The highlight of their interactions happened as one of them, Penny, and I were talking (for quite a while, in Hebrew) and finally, the other, Yigal, said, "Nu, kvar, mishtamesh b'eynayim shelcha, l'chapes l'eizeh kof o mashehu," which means "Come on man, use your eyes to look for a monkey or something!" Penny responds to this by saying, in thick Israeli accent:
the accent is important
remember to imagine this with the accent
"Legolas, what do your elf-eyes see?"
Amazing.
Anyway, we saw no wildlife on the way down the 3.5km trail, but at the end there was a pool with a smaller waterfall. I immediately took of my shirt and went in; Penny soon followed. I should have taken off my pants, but it was totally worth it. Standing beneath a waterfall was amazing, the highlight of the trip. On our way back from the pool, soaked, we saw a toucan (finally!). The rest of the day I spent doing the Paseo Superior, and I left the park exactly on time, right before the sky opened up once again. Back in Puerto Iguazu I walked to the Tres Fronteras (a point where you can see Brazil and Paraguay all at once, showered, and got on a bus to go home (it was supposed to arrive at 9, but got back at 12:30, yet another failure of the famed Argentine bus service). The trip was amazing, and even with the buses, given a choice to go back, I still would have done it. Do check out the pictures on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2082182&id=43906579&l=b9cc758a93
Monday, November 23, 2009
I´m off
Well, the last few days have been a bit of a mixed bag, but I will have to tell you all about the futile wandering but eventually asado eating, the mix of discouraging and encouraging language advice, and the late'ish nights out with sometimes nothing and sometimes something to do, later. I am off to Iguazu Falls for a couple of days! The weather there is supposed to be terrible this week, but whatever, it is supposed to be amazing anyway. Chao!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Puerto Madero
On Thursday I went to Puerto Madero, one of the ritzier neighborhoods in Buenos Aires, where I walked around, went to the Nature Reserve, and had some ice cream while sitting on the dock listening to a jazz-swing party at one of the yacht clubs. The neighborhood was a bit to planned and cold, no personality there, the Nature Reserve was, well, besides trees there wasn't much nature, but at least I got to see the coast! Buenos Aires is a port city but until yesterday I did not see the port. It was also a day that reminded me of my grandfathers. There were a bunch of sailboats in the dock, and my maternal grandfather had a sailboat. I also saw this:
There are three things I can think of how this pictures reminds me of my paternal grandfather, and if you can guess them, well, you know Sabba.
The ice cream, was, as usual, delicious.
After walking around for quite a bit I went to a conversation club in the Hillel, where Argentines come to converse in English with the help of native speakers, and I met a new American friend there from Erie Pennsylvania, Elana. After the club I went out to eat with her and Jason in Mama Jacinta, leaving just one more of the big meat restaurants that I have not eaten at yet.
Today Elana and I went to the zoo, which was a lot of fun; it is really nice having someone to travel with and, while traveling alone has its pluses, I think I am ready for a bit of a shift of gears. I also decided today that I will not be ale to make my way south, at least not El Calafate or Ushuaia (the big glacier or the end of the world), as it is way too expensive just to get there, but I will play my travels out by ear. To be honest, in retrospect, traveling in the beginning and staying in the city now would have been ideal, as things were cheaper in the earlier part of spring and now is when the city is coming even more alive and when my friend are doing more in the city, but I will still go around and see bits of the country. I will save the south for my next trip to Argentina. It is definitely a country I would come back to visit.
There are three things I can think of how this pictures reminds me of my paternal grandfather, and if you can guess them, well, you know Sabba.
The ice cream, was, as usual, delicious.
After walking around for quite a bit I went to a conversation club in the Hillel, where Argentines come to converse in English with the help of native speakers, and I met a new American friend there from Erie Pennsylvania, Elana. After the club I went out to eat with her and Jason in Mama Jacinta, leaving just one more of the big meat restaurants that I have not eaten at yet.
Today Elana and I went to the zoo, which was a lot of fun; it is really nice having someone to travel with and, while traveling alone has its pluses, I think I am ready for a bit of a shift of gears. I also decided today that I will not be ale to make my way south, at least not El Calafate or Ushuaia (the big glacier or the end of the world), as it is way too expensive just to get there, but I will play my travels out by ear. To be honest, in retrospect, traveling in the beginning and staying in the city now would have been ideal, as things were cheaper in the earlier part of spring and now is when the city is coming even more alive and when my friend are doing more in the city, but I will still go around and see bits of the country. I will save the south for my next trip to Argentina. It is definitely a country I would come back to visit.
Exito!
Wednesday was quite a busy and satisfying day, the day that I discovered, among other things, that as long as I don't talk to much, my accent allows me to pass as a native. I first realized this when in a mountaineering store. I decided to spend the entire day in the city on Wednesday, with the focus of the day as the Museo de Armas. I took the subway into the center of town and walked towards Retiro and Plaza San Martin. As I was walking down one street, I noticed that it was full of mountaineering/camping stores, and, needing gloves and a hat for a trek I may/may not do, I went into one of these stores to buy what I needed. I spoke for a bit with the man behind the counter, he took down a bunch of gloves, told the the benefits of each, we discussed the trek and the function I would need and finally I made the decision to buy a pair of waterproof skin-tight gloves and a Ben Wallick hat (he-meivin yavin). In Buenos Aires, when you pay with a credit card, you need to show ID, so I gave him my driver's license. He looked at me in surprise and said "sos Americano?!" (You're American?) It made me happy.
The second time was in the Plaza San Martin. Now, I went to the Plaza earlier in my trip, but this time it was like another world. The last time I went was on the tail end of winter, with leaves in the trees and now it is the height of spring, and the trees were full of green and purple. Check out the pictures on facebook. Anywya, I was in the Plaza, when a random Argentine came up and said "Shalom" and then told me he did not speak Hebrew. He assumed, because of my Kippah, that I was Israeli. We talked for a bit, he took some pictures of me, told me I had a perfect accent (!), and told me he was an AIDS awareness volunteer. I gave him a small donation. I then went to the Museo de Armas, the Arms Museum, which is the most impressive arms museum I have ever seen anywhere. It is huge, extremely extensive, and extremely well labeled and informative (in Spanish). I met a couple of Irish fellows there and we spoke a bit about Ireland and Celtic mythology. After the museum I went to the Palacio Paz to do a building tour, and when I went to sign up for the tour I asked the guide a few questions (in Spanish) and when I told her I wanted to the join the tour she said "but it is in Spanish." ! Don't get me wrong, my Spanish isn't that good. In fact, it is not even conversational (though I can communicate and converse a bit) but it seems I have picked up the accent. This may sound like a good thing, but it really isn't so great. Argentina has a very unique accent with unique grammar and slang that is, so I hear, barely intelligible to most Spanish speakers, and all the Spanish speakers in NYC do not speak Argentine Spanish. I need to leave the country soon so I don't get too entrenched in the local dialect.
After the Palace I walked around, saw some other things in passing, went to an all English bookstore and met a German who never read Harry Potter, and spontaneously decided to buy a ticket to a Celtic music concert, that led to the last post.
The second time was in the Plaza San Martin. Now, I went to the Plaza earlier in my trip, but this time it was like another world. The last time I went was on the tail end of winter, with leaves in the trees and now it is the height of spring, and the trees were full of green and purple. Check out the pictures on facebook. Anywya, I was in the Plaza, when a random Argentine came up and said "Shalom" and then told me he did not speak Hebrew. He assumed, because of my Kippah, that I was Israeli. We talked for a bit, he took some pictures of me, told me I had a perfect accent (!), and told me he was an AIDS awareness volunteer. I gave him a small donation. I then went to the Museo de Armas, the Arms Museum, which is the most impressive arms museum I have ever seen anywhere. It is huge, extremely extensive, and extremely well labeled and informative (in Spanish). I met a couple of Irish fellows there and we spoke a bit about Ireland and Celtic mythology. After the museum I went to the Palacio Paz to do a building tour, and when I went to sign up for the tour I asked the guide a few questions (in Spanish) and when I told her I wanted to the join the tour she said "but it is in Spanish." ! Don't get me wrong, my Spanish isn't that good. In fact, it is not even conversational (though I can communicate and converse a bit) but it seems I have picked up the accent. This may sound like a good thing, but it really isn't so great. Argentina has a very unique accent with unique grammar and slang that is, so I hear, barely intelligible to most Spanish speakers, and all the Spanish speakers in NYC do not speak Argentine Spanish. I need to leave the country soon so I don't get too entrenched in the local dialect.
After the Palace I walked around, saw some other things in passing, went to an all English bookstore and met a German who never read Harry Potter, and spontaneously decided to buy a ticket to a Celtic music concert, that led to the last post.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
KANPAI!
I forgot to mention that at the restaurant I ordered hot sake. Claudio only had the tiniest smidgen of a taste, so I had to finish the entire thing. It was quite a bit, and by the end I was a tad light-headed, though the ice-cream cleared m head quite quickly. It was also quite good. A tad shocking at first, but it was very good.
Laughing and Crying
Today was quite an amazing day, but I will only write about the evening, as I am quite zonked, and it is still fresh in my mind. As I was walking home from the other things I was doing today, thing which you will find out soon enough, I passed by one of the many theaters in Buenos Aires. I decided that since I am leaving the city soon to travel, and I have not yet experienced theater here, I would go inside and see what was on the calendar. Well, it turned out that this evening there was a concert by the fellow named Carlos Nunez, a Celtic-music-playing-Spaniard. I have attached a video, I think. This is a video I found on youtube, not a video I took.
In short, the concert was amazing, perhaps one of the best I have ever been. I have always thought that Celtic music is one of the most evocative genres; they played some songs that had me bouncing in my seat with joy and some that actually brought tears to my eyes. I hadn't been this happy or sad in a while. He was a powerhouse on stage, non-stop, and constantly cracking jokes in Spanish that threatened the Millenium Falcon's record for the Kessel Run. Yes, I did. I know they were jokes not because I understood, but because everyone laughed. His violin/concertina player was from Ireland, and at least she spoke some English on stage. She was also unbefreakingleivable. I wonder if there are any violin-playing Celtic Jews out there (single of course). If you know of anyone who fits that description let me know (try that on for size shadchans!).
Anyway, there were a few real kickers in the concert, including when Carlos went down to the front rows and brought the first few rows on stage to dance! The stage was full of dancing audience members! Damn cheaper balcony seats!
Another kicker was when some random audience member got on stage and cut an Irish swath across the stage like I haven't seen since Lord of the Dance! His feet were moving as fast as Carlos Nunez' Spanish!
The real kicker, though, was when the guy sort-of-next-to-me (there was a pillar in between our seats) leans over and says "Wow, what are the chances of there being a guy with a kippah here!" (In Spanish of course). He is a 39 year old fellow, flute player, huge Tull fan, and a up-and-coming baal teshuva. We spoke after the show, he offered to drive me home, and instead drove me to sushi, where we had a delicious dinner (besides for the cream cheese in some of the sushi. I mean, what the hell is wrong with these people! How can they put cream cheese in sushi!? Have you ever heard of such a thing!). Afterward I treated him to some ice cream and then he drove me home, but we spent a good 3 hours hanging out and talking mostly in Spanish but partly in English and Hebrew as well, and we talked about everything from wind instruments to being single. He was a great guy; thanks Claudio!
Speaking of being single, one of the things Celtic music can make you feel, if you are in a position to feel it, is alone. Some of the slow haunting melodies make some who is alone feel even more so, and it can be quite sad. If 'they' want us young Jews to get married quickly, they should just send us to a Celtic music concert. I tried to take a few videos, but the sound on my camera doesn't seem to be working, which is a bummer. More about today tomorrow. Buenas Noches!
In short, the concert was amazing, perhaps one of the best I have ever been. I have always thought that Celtic music is one of the most evocative genres; they played some songs that had me bouncing in my seat with joy and some that actually brought tears to my eyes. I hadn't been this happy or sad in a while. He was a powerhouse on stage, non-stop, and constantly cracking jokes in Spanish that threatened the Millenium Falcon's record for the Kessel Run. Yes, I did. I know they were jokes not because I understood, but because everyone laughed. His violin/concertina player was from Ireland, and at least she spoke some English on stage. She was also unbefreakingleivable. I wonder if there are any violin-playing Celtic Jews out there (single of course). If you know of anyone who fits that description let me know (try that on for size shadchans!).
Anyway, there were a few real kickers in the concert, including when Carlos went down to the front rows and brought the first few rows on stage to dance! The stage was full of dancing audience members! Damn cheaper balcony seats!
Another kicker was when some random audience member got on stage and cut an Irish swath across the stage like I haven't seen since Lord of the Dance! His feet were moving as fast as Carlos Nunez' Spanish!
The real kicker, though, was when the guy sort-of-next-to-me (there was a pillar in between our seats) leans over and says "Wow, what are the chances of there being a guy with a kippah here!" (In Spanish of course). He is a 39 year old fellow, flute player, huge Tull fan, and a up-and-coming baal teshuva. We spoke after the show, he offered to drive me home, and instead drove me to sushi, where we had a delicious dinner (besides for the cream cheese in some of the sushi. I mean, what the hell is wrong with these people! How can they put cream cheese in sushi!? Have you ever heard of such a thing!). Afterward I treated him to some ice cream and then he drove me home, but we spent a good 3 hours hanging out and talking mostly in Spanish but partly in English and Hebrew as well, and we talked about everything from wind instruments to being single. He was a great guy; thanks Claudio!
Speaking of being single, one of the things Celtic music can make you feel, if you are in a position to feel it, is alone. Some of the slow haunting melodies make some who is alone feel even more so, and it can be quite sad. If 'they' want us young Jews to get married quickly, they should just send us to a Celtic music concert. I tried to take a few videos, but the sound on my camera doesn't seem to be working, which is a bummer. More about today tomorrow. Buenas Noches!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Moving Out
Well, today I left the comfort of my host family to return the hostel. I left a private room and bathroom, breakfasts and hot home cooked dinners, and, most important, friendly people with whom I was able to practice a bit of Spanish for the shared dorms/bathrooms and prepare your own food of the hostel. Why? Well, as you may have already realized, I am getting a tad bored of la ciudad, and I want to get out, to travel a bit, to see the country. The hostel will help in two ways. One is the more obvious. There are travelers coming and going form the hostel all the time, and I have a chance of picking up a travel buddy or at least some advice from the people here, an advantage that does not exist with my host folks. Also, the lack of the previously mentioned comforts (I hope) will motivate me to leave. I have never been more lazy and just totally willing to sit around and do nothing. I haven't had a deadline, any work, any responsibilities, even the minimal ones that arise from school and part-time jobs, I haven't really exercised, I've been eating well, and I have never been this slothful in my life. It is sort of nice. I only wish I had more books here, perhaps my flute (after that concert I really want to practice) and I will be happy. I also think my body believes that it is winter, and it is trying to hibernate. It is dying for some nice comfort food (yesterday I spent some time looking at some amazing looking mac and cheese recipes). One of the reasons I want to go South, besides for it being one of the best places to see in the country, is because it is actually a bit chilly there.
I actually missed a great opportunity to travel with some frum Israeli folks; a couple of guys are going to the deep south tomorrow morning, but by the time I found out there were no tickets left. Oh well. I think I would rather travel alone anyway, but if I do run across anyone over the next day or two I will join with them. We shall see.
Tomorrow I plan. Chodesh tov!
I actually missed a great opportunity to travel with some frum Israeli folks; a couple of guys are going to the deep south tomorrow morning, but by the time I found out there were no tickets left. Oh well. I think I would rather travel alone anyway, but if I do run across anyone over the next day or two I will join with them. We shall see.
Tomorrow I plan. Chodesh tov!
Has Anyone Heard This Not-So-Flattering Moniker Before?
I had to come all the way to Argentina to hear a kind-of-clever-but-not-so-nice nickname for a certain neighborhood in Brooklyn. At the Friday night meal I was talking to the 14 year old son of our host (he was quite impressed when I told him that my cousins were in the Yeshiva Boys Choir; he is a huge fan) and I asked him if he had ever been to NY. He said yes, and told me that he went to Schnorrer Park. At first I thought he got the name wrong, but when I understood what he was saying I cracked up. I'd never heard that used before to refer to Borough Park.
In other news, I just got off the phone with a friend that I met here from Alabama, and he told me he knows some frum guys traveling to El Calafate really soon. It wasn't part of the plan, but I think I am going to try and join them last minute, as this is an opportunity too good to pass on. If I am able to join (there are a few factors involved, not the least of which is getting hold of a ticket) I won't have internet for a bit, so I will be off blog (though maybe not; if I can find an internet cafe I will post), but if I do not manage to join up with them, I will post.
In other news, I just got off the phone with a friend that I met here from Alabama, and he told me he knows some frum guys traveling to El Calafate really soon. It wasn't part of the plan, but I think I am going to try and join them last minute, as this is an opportunity too good to pass on. If I am able to join (there are a few factors involved, not the least of which is getting hold of a ticket) I won't have internet for a bit, so I will be off blog (though maybe not; if I can find an internet cafe I will post), but if I do not manage to join up with them, I will post.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
A Musical Weekend
This past weekend, has, so far, been one of the best in Buenos Aires. Friday I don't really remember what I did. I woke up very late, as I was not able to fall asleep the night before; I think I spent the day studying Spanish and walking around a bit. I went to Talpiot (the MO Tzioni shul) with Jason, a British friend. We met Tal, another British friend there, and after a Carlebach Kabalat Shabbat we went to the house of a ex-physician-turned-zipper-factory-owner. His married son, who went to a different shul, happened to bring home Tal, an Australian friend, and an Israeli tourist. The meal was, as usual, delicious and the people were very nice, and I discovered that my Spanish has improved a bit more than I thought it had. I sat next to the father of the house, but even though he spoke both English and Hebrew, I tried to speak only in Spanish, and I even successfully told over the Sol a Kakas Mar story entirely in Spanish (ask Sabba).
Shabbos day I returned to Talpiot, where I had arranged to meet an American from West Orange and UPenn who is here studying abroad. We met and went to a lawyer's house for lunch, where no one but the two of us spoke English. I felt a bit bad, because 85% of the time we were engaged in conversation amongst ourselves (though there was another guest, as well as the host's mother, to keep them company). After lunch we walked to the Recoleta Cemetary, and then I walked her home. This past weekend was easily the best conversation I've had in months, and I forgot how much I enjoy it.
On Saturday night the Ministry of Culture hosted a 'Night at the Museum' where all the museums in the city were open and free until 2am. I went with Jason to the newly opened Anne Frank museum. At first is was a bit rough, as everything was in Spanish, and some of the presenters spoke faster than anything I have ever heard before, but at the end of the tour we were shown a series of videos meant to provoke debate, with a question at the end of each about freedom of speech and how far it extends to whether or not video games cause violence. At first I thought that I was going to sit out from the discussion, as people were talking a bit fast, in Spanish, and though I can understand and communicate, my Spanish is not good enough for debate and discussion. The presenter, however, picked me out because of my kippah, and when I mentioned the language barrier she acted as a translator and I was able to contribute to the discussion, which was loads of fun. She actually had quite an impressive command of English and a knowledge of issues of political philosophy, especially for someone still in high school (I happen to be skyping with her right now).
After leaving the Anne Frank museum I met up with Maetal, her mom, and her sister, Maya, who at this point won't let me out of her sight and we went to the natural history museum, which was, um, ok. Not like the AMNH or the Smithsonian. There were a few dinosaurs, some really poorly done dioramas, but it was neat. Ish. To be honest the rest of the night was a bit of a disappointment; after the museum I was supposed to go out with a bunch of Argentines to get a taste of the nightlife, but after taking along bus ride to some nightlife area and milling about debating what to do we ended up going all the way back and sitting in one girl's apartment for a bit until we decided to go home at 4. A bit dull, but I got to borrow "The Secret Life of Oscar Wao," one redeeming factor.
Today I spent the day in Rosedal reading said book, and listening to a free wind quintet concert, which was excellent. I now really like the bassoon.
Tonight I am going to a jazz concert with Jason, and then we shall see.
Chao!
Shabbos day I returned to Talpiot, where I had arranged to meet an American from West Orange and UPenn who is here studying abroad. We met and went to a lawyer's house for lunch, where no one but the two of us spoke English. I felt a bit bad, because 85% of the time we were engaged in conversation amongst ourselves (though there was another guest, as well as the host's mother, to keep them company). After lunch we walked to the Recoleta Cemetary, and then I walked her home. This past weekend was easily the best conversation I've had in months, and I forgot how much I enjoy it.
On Saturday night the Ministry of Culture hosted a 'Night at the Museum' where all the museums in the city were open and free until 2am. I went with Jason to the newly opened Anne Frank museum. At first is was a bit rough, as everything was in Spanish, and some of the presenters spoke faster than anything I have ever heard before, but at the end of the tour we were shown a series of videos meant to provoke debate, with a question at the end of each about freedom of speech and how far it extends to whether or not video games cause violence. At first I thought that I was going to sit out from the discussion, as people were talking a bit fast, in Spanish, and though I can understand and communicate, my Spanish is not good enough for debate and discussion. The presenter, however, picked me out because of my kippah, and when I mentioned the language barrier she acted as a translator and I was able to contribute to the discussion, which was loads of fun. She actually had quite an impressive command of English and a knowledge of issues of political philosophy, especially for someone still in high school (I happen to be skyping with her right now).
After leaving the Anne Frank museum I met up with Maetal, her mom, and her sister, Maya, who at this point won't let me out of her sight and we went to the natural history museum, which was, um, ok. Not like the AMNH or the Smithsonian. There were a few dinosaurs, some really poorly done dioramas, but it was neat. Ish. To be honest the rest of the night was a bit of a disappointment; after the museum I was supposed to go out with a bunch of Argentines to get a taste of the nightlife, but after taking along bus ride to some nightlife area and milling about debating what to do we ended up going all the way back and sitting in one girl's apartment for a bit until we decided to go home at 4. A bit dull, but I got to borrow "The Secret Life of Oscar Wao," one redeeming factor.
Today I spent the day in Rosedal reading said book, and listening to a free wind quintet concert, which was excellent. I now really like the bassoon.
Tonight I am going to a jazz concert with Jason, and then we shall see.
Chao!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Foods I Miss
I have written quite a bit about the ample opportunities to eat delicious food here in Argentina, about the wonderful meats, the obsession with sweets,the ice cream that cannot be beat, and all the other treats. There are, however, some foods that I love that cannot be found here, foods that, day to day, I find my self dreaming about. The big one is pie. Tis the season for autumn pies in the States and the autumn pies, apple pie, pumpkin pie, etc, are, in my opinion, the best pies out there. I read a few food blogs regularly and all of them are posting articles, pictures, and videos about making the perfect pie or pie crust, and every time I read/watch one I find my myself salivating. For some reason no one makes pies here, not even the bakeries. For a country obsessed with, and really good at sweets, it is a bit surprising. On a bit of an aside, I was discussing pumpkin pie with a British friend and we were a few minutes into the conversation when I remembered that when our cousins across the pond talk about pumpkin pie they mean a savory main course dish instead of the delightfully creamy-spicy-sweet-but-not-too-sweet miracle that graces every Thanksgiving table.
Chummus can be found here, and so far I have sampled a number of varieties, but none of them even come close to Sabra, let alone the chummus in places like Grill Point or Hapisga. I am going cold turkey and if I do not L'nagev soon I may start having convulsions.
Bagels! Where are the bagels?! They do not exist here, which is not such a surprise, as it is tough to find to find decent bagels outside of New York (or Teaneck, home of the best bagels ever, Teaneck Road Hot Bagels. Anyone who disputes this and thinks that Sammy's is better is just plain wrong). You know what, I meant to leave that statement in the parentheses as an aside, but I must clear up, once and for all, why TRHB easily outstrips Sammy's as best bagel. A bagel is all about contrast. The crust must be hard but thin, hard enough that when lightly toasted allows for a delightful crunch but thin enough that right after the crunch your teeth sink in to the softness of the crumb. The crumb (the term for the inside of bread) however, should not be too soft. A bagel requires some chewiness to it. Your teeth should meet just a little resistance when chewing the bagel; a bagel requires texture. The flavor of the bagel itself needs to be just very slightly sour, nowhere near the intensity of a sour dough, but just enough that you can tell that this is not your usual bread. A bagel should NEVER be undercooked, uniformly soft, doughy, bland, and, besides for the shape, indistinguishable from other breads. You don't even need to take a bite to know whether a bagel has the potential to be good; if in the clear plastic bins the bagels on the bottom of the pile are compressed and contorted by the mound of bagels on top, the bagel will probably be bad. If the bottom bagels do a good job of holding their tubular shape despite the force of gravity, they have the potential to be great bagels. Teaneck Road Hot Bagels hold their shape, they provide contrast, texture, and a distinctive flavor, while Sammy's bagels are soft, doughy, bland, gummy in the mouth, and, to top it all off, the bottom bagels get all squished. I know that only the uncut bagels at TRHB are kosher, whereas in Sammy's you can get and egg sandwich, but really, between the cost (and taste) of the egg sandwich, and the massively inferior bagels, it is far more worth it to buy your bagels at TRHB and make your eggs at home. Now, I am not saying you are not allowed to enjoy Sammy's. Everyone can enjoy what they want; there are people out there who think pancake mix or store bought pie crust is better than the real thing. There are, however, definitions for what makes a certain food; for example, everyone would say that an English muffin is not a bagel and according to those definitions, Sammy's is not a good bagel, though it may be an enjoyable doughy bagel-shaped thing for some.
Well, now I lost track of the foods I miss, though I am sure they will resurface soon enough. Kosher Indian food is conspicuously absent from Argentina, and another sweet that, shockingly, does not exist here is cupcakes. I have no idea why, but no one does cupcakes here. Thankfully before I left CB, Tova, and I splurged on Crumbs and had two each in one day.
I am looking forward to getting my fix on my various food-cravings when I get back.
Chummus can be found here, and so far I have sampled a number of varieties, but none of them even come close to Sabra, let alone the chummus in places like Grill Point or Hapisga. I am going cold turkey and if I do not L'nagev soon I may start having convulsions.
Bagels! Where are the bagels?! They do not exist here, which is not such a surprise, as it is tough to find to find decent bagels outside of New York (or Teaneck, home of the best bagels ever, Teaneck Road Hot Bagels. Anyone who disputes this and thinks that Sammy's is better is just plain wrong). You know what, I meant to leave that statement in the parentheses as an aside, but I must clear up, once and for all, why TRHB easily outstrips Sammy's as best bagel. A bagel is all about contrast. The crust must be hard but thin, hard enough that when lightly toasted allows for a delightful crunch but thin enough that right after the crunch your teeth sink in to the softness of the crumb. The crumb (the term for the inside of bread) however, should not be too soft. A bagel requires some chewiness to it. Your teeth should meet just a little resistance when chewing the bagel; a bagel requires texture. The flavor of the bagel itself needs to be just very slightly sour, nowhere near the intensity of a sour dough, but just enough that you can tell that this is not your usual bread. A bagel should NEVER be undercooked, uniformly soft, doughy, bland, and, besides for the shape, indistinguishable from other breads. You don't even need to take a bite to know whether a bagel has the potential to be good; if in the clear plastic bins the bagels on the bottom of the pile are compressed and contorted by the mound of bagels on top, the bagel will probably be bad. If the bottom bagels do a good job of holding their tubular shape despite the force of gravity, they have the potential to be great bagels. Teaneck Road Hot Bagels hold their shape, they provide contrast, texture, and a distinctive flavor, while Sammy's bagels are soft, doughy, bland, gummy in the mouth, and, to top it all off, the bottom bagels get all squished. I know that only the uncut bagels at TRHB are kosher, whereas in Sammy's you can get and egg sandwich, but really, between the cost (and taste) of the egg sandwich, and the massively inferior bagels, it is far more worth it to buy your bagels at TRHB and make your eggs at home. Now, I am not saying you are not allowed to enjoy Sammy's. Everyone can enjoy what they want; there are people out there who think pancake mix or store bought pie crust is better than the real thing. There are, however, definitions for what makes a certain food; for example, everyone would say that an English muffin is not a bagel and according to those definitions, Sammy's is not a good bagel, though it may be an enjoyable doughy bagel-shaped thing for some.
Well, now I lost track of the foods I miss, though I am sure they will resurface soon enough. Kosher Indian food is conspicuously absent from Argentina, and another sweet that, shockingly, does not exist here is cupcakes. I have no idea why, but no one does cupcakes here. Thankfully before I left CB, Tova, and I splurged on Crumbs and had two each in one day.
I am looking forward to getting my fix on my various food-cravings when I get back.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Japanese Garden, Return to Rosedal, and the Future
This week I spent most of my time lying on back, and it wasn't to have fun; for some bizarre reason my lower decided it wanted to be 80 years old and for a couple of days I couldn't move. I cannot wait to get old. Being stuck at home for a few days gave me ample opportunity to think about my future plans for this trip and my travels post Argentina; I still have February through August free, and I am also looking to get out of Buenos Aires and into the rest of Argentina.
I have decided that, hopefully starting next Sunday, I will leave the city and travel south to Ushuaia, El Calafate, Bariloche, Mendoza, maybe a bit of Chile, and perhaps more. I am going to try to be back in Buenos Aires for Chanuka (kosher food and shuls are very rare outside the city; I'll be living on fruit and attempting to find Chabad houses for Shabbos). After Chanuka I am going to go in the other direstion and see as much as I can of the northeast and northwest; Salta, Jujuy and Iguazu among others, maybe see another country as well. That is the extent of my plans, and I think that I am not going to plan any farther than that; I am going to take this trip as it comes (though there are a few things that are must-sees).
When I get back from Argentina I am going to have to replenish my funds for a bit (anyone know of a short-term decent paying job? Keep an eye out for me!) before I go anywhere else. The ideas, so far, are to spend some time in Israel working as a farmer, something I have always wanted to do, with extended stops in European cities on the way in and out of Israel. That would only be for a month and a half or so, so my summer would still be free, and it is during the summer that I want to do the highlight of my year off.
There is something I have been dreaming of doing for some time now, something that I really must do before I begin medical school, something that, if I do not manage to pull it off before the end of the year, I will be quite disappointed. I want to bike from the East Coast to the West Coast, across the entire USA. It is very doable. It would take around 8 weeks of not too intense biking and having rest/touring days. And it would allow me to spend every single shabbos in a different Jewish community. This is something i am pretty dead-set on doing. I have mentioned it a few people and, of course, they think I am nuts and tell me I cannot go, but they seem to concede a little on the condition that I go with someone else. As long as I do not do the ride alone, it is fine. Well, I don't know anyone who would do this ride. If I did, we would either be great friends or married, depending on the gender of said rider. That said, any readers want to ride across the USA with me this summer? If not, do you know anyone who might want to do the ride? And if you are a girl, don't take that last statement as a preemptive proposal, though I must say it wouldn't be far off.
I have decided that, hopefully starting next Sunday, I will leave the city and travel south to Ushuaia, El Calafate, Bariloche, Mendoza, maybe a bit of Chile, and perhaps more. I am going to try to be back in Buenos Aires for Chanuka (kosher food and shuls are very rare outside the city; I'll be living on fruit and attempting to find Chabad houses for Shabbos). After Chanuka I am going to go in the other direstion and see as much as I can of the northeast and northwest; Salta, Jujuy and Iguazu among others, maybe see another country as well. That is the extent of my plans, and I think that I am not going to plan any farther than that; I am going to take this trip as it comes (though there are a few things that are must-sees).
When I get back from Argentina I am going to have to replenish my funds for a bit (anyone know of a short-term decent paying job? Keep an eye out for me!) before I go anywhere else. The ideas, so far, are to spend some time in Israel working as a farmer, something I have always wanted to do, with extended stops in European cities on the way in and out of Israel. That would only be for a month and a half or so, so my summer would still be free, and it is during the summer that I want to do the highlight of my year off.
There is something I have been dreaming of doing for some time now, something that I really must do before I begin medical school, something that, if I do not manage to pull it off before the end of the year, I will be quite disappointed. I want to bike from the East Coast to the West Coast, across the entire USA. It is very doable. It would take around 8 weeks of not too intense biking and having rest/touring days. And it would allow me to spend every single shabbos in a different Jewish community. This is something i am pretty dead-set on doing. I have mentioned it a few people and, of course, they think I am nuts and tell me I cannot go, but they seem to concede a little on the condition that I go with someone else. As long as I do not do the ride alone, it is fine. Well, I don't know anyone who would do this ride. If I did, we would either be great friends or married, depending on the gender of said rider. That said, any readers want to ride across the USA with me this summer? If not, do you know anyone who might want to do the ride? And if you are a girl, don't take that last statement as a preemptive proposal, though I must say it wouldn't be far off.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
An Age Old, Universal Rule Remains Unbroken
Today I ventured outside to give my back and little exercise and fresh air, and to get lunch. I went to a small dairy place and ate a torta, a kind of like a frittata but less eggy and more vegetably. In fact, mine was almost entirely vegetables, with whatever egg inside just holding the vegetable patty together. Very healthy, and also pretty tasty, but with such an overload of vegetables I needed something sweet and fatty afterward to cut the heart-clearing goodness of some many plants. I was walking and saw an all-kosher chalav yisrael Heladeria or ice cream shop, and I decided to try it. Now, in Argentina, the main ice cream franchises have many kosher flavors, and all of them are divine; they transcend the natural order of ice cream to something far more superior than man or angel could create in the USA. I figured that the chalav yisrael ice cream here, while definitely would not be as good, might be able to surpass the universal truth in the USA that anything chalav yisrael (especially ice cream) is extremely inferior. Unfortunately my hopes fell to the ground like a soon-to-be crying kids ice cream falling from his cone on a hot day. The ice cream at this place may have been the worst ice cream I have ever eaten, barring, perhaps, the chalav yisrael brands in the States, which, thankfully, I haven't eaten many time. If you come to Buenos Aires, stick with the mainstream ice cream, and if you only eat chalav yisrael, either quit, or avoid the ice cream here altogether.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Out Again
As the last commenter noted, maybe my back doesn't like me running barefoot. Maybe it doesn't like me bending over to tie my shoe. Or to pick something up. Or to stretch. Whatever it doesn't like, my back is not liking me, and isn't really letting me move anywhere. I am getting a little fed up with being cooped up from week to week, one time with some stomach problems and now with back pain. I mean, really, I'm 21! People who are 21 don't get back pain! Well, they do, but it is a lot less common. Then again, I've already done the knee problem thing, so I guess bring on old age early. Maybe next I won't be able to remember anything. Anyway, I've been cooped up yesterday and today, bored to tears (well, not really tears) and I am getting sick of being sick. I wouldn't mind that much if I was home with nothing to do, but knowing that I am in another country with a plenitude of opportunities, a myriad of things to do and see, and a plethora of places to go out to lunch or dinner, and not able to do any of them is a bit frustrating. Whatever. Such is life, you take what comes. Que sera sera as they say in Spanish; what will be will be, and I just have to sit (or rather, lie) this out. The longer I am cooped up in Buenos Aires though, the more I just want to leave the city and backpack the rest of the country.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Meat Round Two
Hello all. I think that I was victim to a bit of a stomach virus last week as opposed to the original hypothesis of my tummy-ache being a result of the "Revenge of the Alimentary Canal," but I am back. I spent pretty much all of last week at home in bed, though Thursday night I felt well enough to go for another barefoot run and Friday I ventured out to the Flore Generico and the Museo de Bellas Artes. The barefoot run was a bit painful, yet again, as I am still not used to it, though I must say my muscles are already doing ok. This time I ran during the day and the street was boiling hot; the pain came not from being sore but from the resulting blisters. I know, I know, why do I afflict myself thus? Well, my knee has yet to hurt, and once my feet and muscles are used to it, it may be the best way for me to run.
The Museo de Bellas Artes was, well, suffice it to say that I liked it a lot more than the MALBA. Hang on, I didn't write about the MALBA yet? Wow, it has been a while. Let me take a step back. On Wednesday (I think it was) I also ventured outside and a met a British friend and a Colombian friend of his to go to the MALBA, one of the lager art museums here in BsAs (I do not remember what it stands for off-hand). Until February, almost the entire museum is hosting the Andy Warhol museum from Pittsburgh, and they have two floors full of Andy Warhol. It was neat to see, especially the New York iconography, but I cannot say I am really into Warhol. He did something no one else did, he chose to see certain things in a way no one else saw them, but he was only a first. I feel he is famous more for being a first, and perhaps for 'social commentary' than anything else. For many that makes a great artist but for me it only makes an imaginary didact. The museum also had some other Argentine pop-art, which also did not really impress. That night my host-folks had all of their kinderlach and einiklach (hijos y nietos) over for the birthday of their twin sons. What a feast! My host-mom cooked up a dairy storm with bollos (stuffed pastries), empanadas (stuffed pastries), and calzones, pronounced cahl-son-ehs (stuffed pasta, similar to large ravioli). All of it was homemade and all of it delicious, though none of it worked wonders on my then-tender stomach.
On Friday I ventured outside for a bit and saw the Museo de Bellas Artes, which now houses a wonderful European Masters exhibit, from pre-Renaissance to the 19th Century French masters, which includes some great Italian and Dutch Renaissance, and some really good Rodin sculptures.
The Flore Generico is a massive metal sculpture in the middle of one of the parks here that opens with the rising of the sun and closes when it sets.
Shabbos was nice; we ate by one of my host-mom's sons Friday night (and davened at their Sfardi shul, where Shir HaShirim took as long as the rest of the davening and the rabbi's speech as long as everything put together). Shabbos day I went to the Chabad youth center where I met two Brits and an Argentine, one of whom knows Nina (small world). We all (the four of us and many more Argentines) ate at the rabbi's house. The rest of Shabbos was normal, with a nap, mincha, etc. Saturday night was nothing exciting either.
Today I went to the Hillel to help with AKIM, an organization that organizes activities and assistance for mentally handicapped people. The Hillel hosted a day of activities for the organization, run by my hard-working and very involved apartment-mate which, as far as I could tell, was quite a hit. The highlight, for me, was a great magician, who showed some of the extranjero (foreign) volunteers some of his tricks pre-show. I was blown away, and I have rediscovered that I really like magic shows.
Tonight I met said apartment-mate's mother, sister, aunt, and aunt's significant other, which was a lot of fun; they took us all out for dinner, it was very nice of them to come out to a foriegn country and take an otherwise unknown fellow out to dinner. We went to Al Galope, where I had the infamous intestines, but this time avoided the offal and stuck the multiple meats that we got for the table. And hummus! Finally! The sister, Maya, was a real pleasure to talk to. She is 6, in second grade, and almost finished the entire Harry Potter series, and has read Roald Dahl. She reminds of someone else at her age :)
Funny story about the small intestines; when I came home I told my host-folks that I ate chinchuines, the Spanish for small intestines. The next day I felt terrible, and it is now a running joke in the family. If anyone's stomach hurts, they must have eaten chinchulines. They were even teasing me tonight in the restaurant, and Mario (my host-dad) went so far as to teach the word to Maya, which she yelled at me with all the glee of a six year old discovering a funny new word that gets grown-ups to laugh. It was really a nice dinner. I also got a peak at the bill, and, while I will not divulge how much they spent on dinner, I amazed to find out that 8 people ate salads and kibbehs and meats and drinks and wines till we were full and there were left over for less than 100 dollars. Crazy!!!!Here's to a week of feeling better and progressing a lot farther in Spanish!
The Museo de Bellas Artes was, well, suffice it to say that I liked it a lot more than the MALBA. Hang on, I didn't write about the MALBA yet? Wow, it has been a while. Let me take a step back. On Wednesday (I think it was) I also ventured outside and a met a British friend and a Colombian friend of his to go to the MALBA, one of the lager art museums here in BsAs (I do not remember what it stands for off-hand). Until February, almost the entire museum is hosting the Andy Warhol museum from Pittsburgh, and they have two floors full of Andy Warhol. It was neat to see, especially the New York iconography, but I cannot say I am really into Warhol. He did something no one else did, he chose to see certain things in a way no one else saw them, but he was only a first. I feel he is famous more for being a first, and perhaps for 'social commentary' than anything else. For many that makes a great artist but for me it only makes an imaginary didact. The museum also had some other Argentine pop-art, which also did not really impress. That night my host-folks had all of their kinderlach and einiklach (hijos y nietos) over for the birthday of their twin sons. What a feast! My host-mom cooked up a dairy storm with bollos (stuffed pastries), empanadas (stuffed pastries), and calzones, pronounced cahl-son-ehs (stuffed pasta, similar to large ravioli). All of it was homemade and all of it delicious, though none of it worked wonders on my then-tender stomach.
On Friday I ventured outside for a bit and saw the Museo de Bellas Artes, which now houses a wonderful European Masters exhibit, from pre-Renaissance to the 19th Century French masters, which includes some great Italian and Dutch Renaissance, and some really good Rodin sculptures.
The Flore Generico is a massive metal sculpture in the middle of one of the parks here that opens with the rising of the sun and closes when it sets.
Shabbos was nice; we ate by one of my host-mom's sons Friday night (and davened at their Sfardi shul, where Shir HaShirim took as long as the rest of the davening and the rabbi's speech as long as everything put together). Shabbos day I went to the Chabad youth center where I met two Brits and an Argentine, one of whom knows Nina (small world). We all (the four of us and many more Argentines) ate at the rabbi's house. The rest of Shabbos was normal, with a nap, mincha, etc. Saturday night was nothing exciting either.
Today I went to the Hillel to help with AKIM, an organization that organizes activities and assistance for mentally handicapped people. The Hillel hosted a day of activities for the organization, run by my hard-working and very involved apartment-mate which, as far as I could tell, was quite a hit. The highlight, for me, was a great magician, who showed some of the extranjero (foreign) volunteers some of his tricks pre-show. I was blown away, and I have rediscovered that I really like magic shows.
Tonight I met said apartment-mate's mother, sister, aunt, and aunt's significant other, which was a lot of fun; they took us all out for dinner, it was very nice of them to come out to a foriegn country and take an otherwise unknown fellow out to dinner. We went to Al Galope, where I had the infamous intestines, but this time avoided the offal and stuck the multiple meats that we got for the table. And hummus! Finally! The sister, Maya, was a real pleasure to talk to. She is 6, in second grade, and almost finished the entire Harry Potter series, and has read Roald Dahl. She reminds of someone else at her age :)
Funny story about the small intestines; when I came home I told my host-folks that I ate chinchuines, the Spanish for small intestines. The next day I felt terrible, and it is now a running joke in the family. If anyone's stomach hurts, they must have eaten chinchulines. They were even teasing me tonight in the restaurant, and Mario (my host-dad) went so far as to teach the word to Maya, which she yelled at me with all the glee of a six year old discovering a funny new word that gets grown-ups to laugh. It was really a nice dinner. I also got a peak at the bill, and, while I will not divulge how much they spent on dinner, I amazed to find out that 8 people ate salads and kibbehs and meats and drinks and wines till we were full and there were left over for less than 100 dollars. Crazy!!!!Here's to a week of feeling better and progressing a lot farther in Spanish!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Karma Strikes
Perhaps as vengeance for my consuming of another mammals small intestines, I am now having all the juice wrung out of my digestive system very slowly. At least that is what it feels like; whatever it is, is the one of the worst stomachaches ever. Argh! I would say "Oy, I will never eat another animal's digestive system again!" but I am not superstitious. Therefore, I say, "Oy, I cannot wait until this is over so that I can eat more intestines! Or anything. Or stand up straight."
I really hope it wasn't the intestines that disagree with me, that would be quite disappointing.
I really hope it wasn't the intestines that disagree with me, that would be quite disappointing.
More Firsts
On Sunday I went with the Goldfarbs to their country house in Tigre, a small vacation town a half an hour outside of the city. The house was amazing, gorgeous, with a huge indoor barbecue pit/shelf constructuion, an in-ground pool, and an entire golf course in their backyard. I went with Raquel and two fo her grandchildren; we were the first to arrive. I went bike-riding around the gated community, a Jewish country club called Koaj, with one of the Goldfarb grandchildren (Toby), my first time biking here in Argentina (and boy do I miss it) and by the time we got back everyone was there, the sladas were out and the meat was grilling. The asado was, of course, amazing, and I ate more meat in that one sitting than I have ever eaten in any given week; the meat was delicious. One of the main highlights, though, was the seltzer, which they served in spritz bottles. I have never had seltzer so bubbly and fresh-tasting. The spritz bottle beats any of the pre-bottled seltzers at home, and I am tempted to buy one when I get back. If anyone wants to know what they can get me for a birthday present, well, a spritz-bottle for seltzer would do the trick. It was wonderful.
The other highlight, also a first, was the mate. Mate, pronounced Mah-teh, is the Argentine national drink and drug. Everyone does it, passing around the gourd filled with the herb at parks and meals and just when hanging out, every taking turns sucking through the straw, or bombillo (the ll makes a sh sound). There is an art to mate, and people sit around in circles while person prepares the mate in a gourd and passes it to someone; when that person finishes the mate he gives it back to the preparer, who refills the gourd and passes it to the next person, and so on. It is quite bitter, though some cut it with sugar, and it provides quite a buzz thanks to a copious quantity of the active ingredient in the herb, mateine, which contains trimethylxanthine, a bitter xanthine alkaloid that is an odorless white crystalline powder in its natural form. It is also a psychoactive stimulant drug, and probably the reason mate is so popular. I cannot see myself becoming a regular user, as the withdrawal symptoms include pretty bad headaches, but maybe I shall buy my own gourd and mate to bring home with me.
The other highlight, also a first, was the mate. Mate, pronounced Mah-teh, is the Argentine national drink and drug. Everyone does it, passing around the gourd filled with the herb at parks and meals and just when hanging out, every taking turns sucking through the straw, or bombillo (the ll makes a sh sound). There is an art to mate, and people sit around in circles while person prepares the mate in a gourd and passes it to someone; when that person finishes the mate he gives it back to the preparer, who refills the gourd and passes it to the next person, and so on. It is quite bitter, though some cut it with sugar, and it provides quite a buzz thanks to a copious quantity of the active ingredient in the herb, mateine, which contains trimethylxanthine, a bitter xanthine alkaloid that is an odorless white crystalline powder in its natural form. It is also a psychoactive stimulant drug, and probably the reason mate is so popular. I cannot see myself becoming a regular user, as the withdrawal symptoms include pretty bad headaches, but maybe I shall buy my own gourd and mate to bring home with me.
Meat, meat, meat
I have eaten more beef over these past few days than I have in any other month of my life. Shabbos, of course, was shabbos, and the usual meat was served, either in brisket or cholent form. On sunday I went to an asado with the Goldfarb family, where I ate chorizo and more ribs than I can remember, and yesterday, ah, yesterday, I went to what is considered one of the better meat restaurants here in Buenos Aires and ate, not only a steak, but a small intestine. Well, not an entire small intestine, but delicious chunks of a cow's small intestine. For years I have been dying to eat real 'kishke,' as it were, and finally I had the opportunity. This was not the starchy-orange stuffing in a gross paper wrapping that you see in American cholents. In fact, this wasn't stuffed at all. In fact, the English bit of the menu called it tripe (but cow's stomachs are not tubular and thin-ish). They were wonderful grilled sections of innards with a meaty flavor far more intense than muscle and with a delightful crispy on the outside but very soft, almost liver-ish, on the inside. I will have to go back to try the 'real' meat, which I was actually in the mood for, but, when I saw the offal on the menu, I had to resist. The offal was anything but, and everyone should give it a shot. On the other hand, the coconut flan I got for dessert was pretty terrible. And, in keeping with the great prices, two kebabs of small intestine, a steak, a large order of fries, shared, a liter of beer, shared, a bottle of seltzer, shared, and the flan put me back 70 pesos, or about 18.50 American. Including table service. Argentina can be the solution for many a guy's dating dilemmas. Going out to eat is so expensive in New York, especially if, as with most frum girls, the guy pays for the entire date (the other option is 'going Dutch' where each pays for his/her own, supposedly gaining popularity). Here, the greatest meal for two in the greatest restaurant won't put the fellow back more than 40 dollars, which, in a nice New York restaurant, won't even buy one person a steak. It's too bad the airfare is so expensive; Buenos Aires could become a great date-cation place.
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