Monday, July 21, 2008

¿Dónde están los ladrónes?

JUPITER, Fla. -- We made it! Will and I arrived safely back in Miami this morning, but not without the usual drama. Well, this time, we had a bit more than the usual drama. I'd give it a 7 on the 1-to-10 fiasco spectrum scale.

We checked out of the luxury apartment this morning so the owner could clean it for guests arriving that night. We left our bags with the friendly doorman downstairs, who put them in a secure room awaiting our return that evening for our redeye flight.

I hesitated a moment, wondering what I should do with my iPod and cellphone. I usually take them with me rather than check them. But, an acquaintance had just regaled us with the story of a brazen purse-snatching on the streets of Buenos Aires. Our alternative, putting the iPod and phone in Will's backpack for the duration of a crowded subway ride, seemed even less secure. So, in a fit of bad judgment, I left them in a case at the bottom of my backpack, solidly buried under a copy of 100 Years of Solitude, my glasses, sunglasses, accounting workbook, two reporter's notebooks, three possibly pirated CDs, two purses made of antique weavings (one full of silver jewelery), a guide to the La Paz Coca Museum, and the July issue of Latin American Vogue.

This did not deter the thief.

We returned from a leisurely lunch with Andrew and hopped in a cab for the international airport, where I discovered the absence of my cellphone and iPod in a backpack that had been rifled through. The culprit did not appear interested in Garcia Marquez, jewelery or my credit cards (which saved me the headache of canceling them).

But worse, I could not find my camera with the previous two days' photos on it. I had asked Will for it at lunch, and he said he had seen it in my bag that morning before we checked it. So we assumed that's where my camera was, and we used his camera the rest of the day. The moment of discovery at the airport improved from 'disastrous theft of irreplaceable proportions' to 'merely irritating and expensive' when Will found my camera in his bag, where it had been all along. Whew! Our photos of Uruguay returned from oblivion. Don't know what we would have done without those.

And really, both my old phone and iPod both would need replacing soon anyway. Thank goodness for planned obsolescence. It took the sting out of the incident, as did Will's amusement at the image of a thief listening to my eclectic and lowbrow iPod playlists somewhere ... including, oddly enough, Shakira's ¿Dónde están los ladrónes?, about the theft of her luggage, and song lyrics, in the Bogotá airport.

So, it could have been a lot worse.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

One more Country

BUENOS AIRES, Argentina- We went on a day trip to Colonia, Uruguay on Saturday. We could say we did this because the old colonial city and beach port, vacation spot for Argentinians and Uruguayans alike, is extremely beautiful, which it is. But, truth be told, we both wanted to get one more stamp on our passports. Although it is a tourist haven, this piece of land, which requires a boat trip across the Rio de La Plata, is surrounded by water on three sides -- giving it the feel of a small quaint island. Highlights included cobblestone streets, Uruguay's oldest church and the ruins of a convent. The history of the small town is interesting, as it was originally founded by the Portuguese and then later taken over by the Spanish. This rich heritage can seen in the restored buildings and old museums, which made our stroll through the streets well worth our time.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Our Best Day in Buenos Aires

BUENOS AIRES -- As our 11-week trip drew to a close, Will grew nostalgic and decided to plan a special evening out on the town. He wouldn´t tell me any of the details, just said to clear Thursday night (as if we had other urgent business to attend to here). I could get no details out of him, so I eventually stopped asking, and instead took the opportunity to buy purple leather boots, as I had no nice going-out shoes. But then I saw some shiny purple flats and bought those too, and wore them instead.
These were the trivial details I had on my mind. Obviously, I had no idea what was coming.
I thought I´d figure out where we were headed once Will told the taxi driver, but he slyly had written down the address on a piece of paper, and he simply handed it to the driver without saying a word.
We ended up in the tony Puerto Madero section of town, a refurbished waterfront, in front of Cabaña Las Lilas -- the best restaurant in the city. Prices skyrocketed when New York Times writer R.W. Apple declared it one of the world´s best restaurants.
What a perfect way to end our trip, I thought.
We sat dockside and ordered two medallions de lomo, mine with butternut squash puree and Will´s with walnut mashed potato, and a bottle of Malbec. Oh, and a provoletta to start off with. Which I probably wouldn´t have ordered had I known they would set out a platter of appetizers for free -- carpaccio, pate, mini mozzarella balls and tomato, in addition to the woman wandering around with an enormous basket of hot bread.
Still, not too much I thought, as I prepared to dig into my steak. I had ordered medium rare as usual, and it came with a little smiling plastic cow that said ´´Estoy jugoso.¨ We saved those for kitsch appeal.
Then the waiter rushed back, apologizing profusely. ´´We only brought you a half portion!´ he said. ´´I¨m so sorry!¨
I had no opportunity to protest. The next thing I knew, he was back with another steak. I had no choice but to eat two steaks.
I have never felt so full in my life. I wanted to go home immediately. But Will persuaded me to split the Chocolate Nemesis cake (I couldn´t resist the name). Then he persuaded me to go for a walk ... in weather suddenly turned blustery ... down the canal to the lovely suspension ´´Bridge of Woman,¨ so named because Puerto Madero´s streets are all named after famous Argentine women. At least I can vomit in the water, I thought, if it comes to that.
I easily could have refused all these suggestions. But I would have ruined a plan weeks in the making, unbeknownst to me.
When we got to the bridge, Will, nostalgic again, started talking about what a great trip this had been, and how much he loved me, etc., until he was interrupted by a woman trying to sell us two of the ugliest flowers I have ever seen. They were wilty and pink, and each came with an even uglier gold-glitter-dusted fake flower. She wanted 5 pesos. Will gave her 20 to go away.
The next thing I knew, he was dropping to one knee.
¨Will you marry me?¨ he asked.
He was holding something shiny in his left hand, in a box, and it was not the ugly glitter flowers.
´´What?´´ I asked. I was shocked. Then, ¨Yes, yes, of course I will!´´
He had somehow managed to hide this plan and piece of jewelery from me though we had spent 24 hours a day together for the past 3 months. And now, standing on a windy bridge over the water, I was about to drop a shiny, shiny ring into the Buenos Aires canal.
¨I don´t want a ring!¨ I said, trying to give it back. ¨I lose things!¨ But he convinced me it would be ok, and I put it on -- a purple amethyst, thank goodness, because he knows exactly how I feel about conflict diamonds.
I am still in shock. But I think we can all agree this was our best day in Buenos Aires, our best day in South America and our best day ever. We are looking forward to many, many more days together in the years to come.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Top 10 Reasons We Love Buenos Aires

1. Abundance of purple leather boots in equally abundant women´s shoe stores.
2. Watching a parade of dog walkers each try to handle a dozen Labrador and English sheepdog-sized canines every morning.
3. Despite weakening dollar, exchange rate still 3 to 1 with the peso.
4. Belle Epoqe-era theater´s new owner turned it into a cathedral-like bookstore.
5. Abundance of other used and new bookstores.
6. Clean and pleasant tree-filled plazas.
7. Four-hour lunches.
8. Four-hour dinners starting at 9 pm.
9. Quirky and affordable Sunday antique fair.
10. Espresso, ice cream, pasta, steak, red wine.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Pasta or Steak?

BUENOS AIRES -- Our biggest daily dilemma in this culinary wonderland: Do we eat pasta tonight, or steak?

Known equally for its cattle and Italian cuisine, Argentina has a wealth of restaurants to choose from. We have the luxury of a seasoned food tour guide in Andrew, who has narrowed down the best restaurants for us in more than a year in Buenos Aires. We took a complicating factor out of the dining equation by deciding to have wine every night, usually a local Malbec. No dilemma there. -- Meghan


Las Criticas de Will

Restauran Don Julio
Guatemala 469, Buenos Aires
This cozy little restaurant in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires was our first stop. With cow-hide tablecloths, vintage brick walls and crowded with locals, this establishment was a magnificent way to begin our culinary journey. We started off ordering a special cheese dish, called provoletta, grilled and sprinkled with oregano. It was very tasty, but reminded me a lot of cheesy bread from Domino's. Then it was on to the main course, bife de lomo, the finest cut of beef known to the world. It came out properly cooked (well done) and was very tender. But by far the highlight of the night was my introduction to chimichurri, a spicy sauce made up of garlic, parsley and a secret ingredient known only to Argentinians. It's on the table to complement the meat, but dipping your bread in this tasty connoction is the best thing since Sonny's Barbecue. I pledge here to search out into this large city to find the best chimichurri sauce.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Luxury at Hostel Prices


BUENOS AIRES -- We have not prioritized comfort as we tried to stretch our lodgings budget across three months.

In Sucre, we went without heat or hot water (though few places even had that option). In Salta, we got colds from the mildew in our hostel. In Tucumán, the malfunctioning toilet in our room dated back to 1972 (older than both of us). That´s what happens when you spend between $15 and $30 a night. And still, this looks much better when you consider what you might find for $30 a night in the U.S.

In Buenos Aires, the hotel gods rewarded us for our sacrifice.

Thanks again to a brilliant idea from Andrew, we decided to rent an apartment for a week. Our last-minute search yielded an incredible deal -- for about $30 a night, we have a brand-new studio apartment in the exclusive Recoleta neighborhood. It comes with a balcony, cable TV, access to a rooftop pool, basketball courts, stainless-steel appliances and a helpful doorman. We walk a block and a half to the subway, and get out four stops later for dinner in the trendy Palermo neighborhood (at Don Julio: steaks, a bottle of Malbec and grilled cheese -- like the sandwich but without the bread) Or, four stops in the other direction, we can visit the Plaza de Mayo and salmon-pink Casa Rosada government offices downtown. We can walk to the fashionable cemetery where Evita is buried.

Today, we took the bus to San Telmo, center of the tango world, for the weekly antiques fair. The cost of restaurant meals, real estate and just about everything has climbed since Argentina´s economic meltdown several years ago, but remains well below U.S. prices. Hence, this was the first antiques fair I´ve visited where I could actually afford to shop. Somehow, we will try to get the green 1940s-era glass soda dispenser home without breaking it ...

Friday, July 11, 2008

The Great Falls of Iguazu





BUENOS AIRES, Argentina -- Our flight touched down a little after 4 p.m. local time here, but Meghan and I were still thinking about our trip yesterday to the falls of Iguazu, the world´s widest waterfalls and one of the most amazing sites I´ve ever seen.
Meghan and I made a day of it. We first hiked to the famous Garganta del Diablo, ¨The Throat of the Devil,¨ where three sides of the cliff remained covered in mist as the gigantic falls converged. There´s really no way to stay dry in this national park with falls far larger and impressive than North America's Niagara Falls. Afterwards, we went hiking on the upper trail, which rims the falls and the lower trail which gives you a close up view from the bottom. The lower trail was my favorite, as we caught two rainbows arching over this natural wonder and also encountered hundreds of multi-colored butterflies along the hike. This sanctuary was spectacular and made for maybe the most perfect day of the 11-week odyssey. A fitting way to wind down our great adventure.






Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Happy Argentine Independence Day!

PUERTO IGUAZU, Argentina --- Today, Argentina celebrates its independence from Spain, and we celebrate our liberation from the Andesmar bus from Tucumán after 24 hours aboard. The trip ran four hours longer than planned, and as the sunrise illuminated a road stretching endlessly into the horizon, the final hour seemed longer than the rest. We watched four movies and played bingo yesterday, which helped pass the time as we drove past sugarcane and wheat fields. And even though an electrical problem limited our beverage choices, we did have 7-Up and two meals. Next time, we reserve the first-class seats early. Actually, next time, we go to the airport instead.

And now here´s Will with his reviews of the movie selections:

1. The Bucket List (I give this a C-. Great actors, but where was the writing?)
2. Shattered (I give this pig a D. Does anybody remember Pierce Brosnan as Remington Steale? That´s when the man could act.)
3. I Am Legend (I give this a C+. Not half as bad as I expected for a sci-fi film.)
4. The Legend of Bagger Vance (I´m so glad dinner was served during this disaster. Why did you make this film Robert Redford? I give a D-. However, they served some very tasty cookies on the bus, which made me feel a little better.)

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Feeding a Cold With Locro

CAFAYATE, Argentina -- An 11-week trip to South America is bound to have a few unexpected roadblocks, such as miners with dynamite on strike, transportation delays, etc.
So, why should the small town of Cafayate be any different?
Meghan and I both picked up bad colds in Salta and have been recovering here for four days, a couple days more than originally planned. Actually, Cafayate is a darn fine place to recover. It´s renowned for its vineyards and temperate climate, and Meghan and I have soaked it all in. Although I loved the wine tour and six-hour odyssey through the red-rock canyons outside of town, the best part has been the food. We ordered Parrillada last night. The dish for two was a carnivore´s dream! Three types of sausages, ribs, chicken breast, filets, different cuts of steak, all on a small grill delivered to our table. We had very little for lunch just to prepare. Armed with glasses of dark red wine from a local vineyard, we even impressed the waiter with our hearty appetites. Many poeple told me told me some of the best steaks in the world can be found in Argentina, and after Saturday night who am I to disagree? We have also been nursing ourselves back to health with bowls of locro, a delectable stew common in this part of the Andes. The ingredients include cornmeal, some form of meat, usually beef, and an array of fresh vegetables. And I would do well not to forget the empanadas. Meghan and I fell in love with small joint called Casa des Las Empanandas in town. Anyone can make an empananda, but the folks here have mastered the technique. Using a secret recipe of spices, the piping hot treats melt happily into your mouth. Meghan used to buy empananadas in South Florida, but you can find the real thing at this little restaurant on Ave. Mitre in Cafayate. Yum.

When we finally make our way to Buenos Aires, my goal, after weeks and weeks of being on the road, is to eat my way through several glorious days and nights in that metropolis. With Andrew guiding us to the best restaurants in town, I can think of no better way of ending this fabulous adventure. But before all that, we have one more very special place to visit....

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Celebrating Freedom

CAFAYATE, Argentina -- We arrived in wine country just in time for the Fourth of July, and I can think of no better way to celebrate freedom than with free tours and tastings. Our hostel runs a bus to not one, but two vineyards every morning for wine, cheese and education, and we plan to be on it tomorrow.
One might complain that this seems a bit too French for Independence Day, and perhaps we should make do with boorish American beer and barbecue, holding off 10 days or so until Bastille Day. I say wine and fromage is a great way to celebrate the crucial French contribution to our revolution, and we can always repeat it again July 14. And, in between, we have Argentine independence day on July 9. We have hit all of the winter´s major secular and religious holidays between La Paz and Buenos Aires.
Cafayate has so far proved to be a relaxing departure from the big city of Salta, which we found a little overwhelming after two weeks of desert solitude. The road running to the small town, overshadowed by mountains, runs through red rock canyons and grape-filled valleys.
We made it here, once again, despite ourselves. Luckily, we had scheduled a wake-up knock on the door for 6 a.m. When the knock came, I insisted to the night manager that he had arrived an hour early, as my clock said 5. He insisted it was indeed 6, and furthermore, as we had spent five minutes debating the issue, it was now 6:05, and we had better get a move on or we would miss our taxi. We grudgingly complied, and, in the shower, it dawned on me what had happened. We had throughout our four days in Argentina wondered why we seemed so in synch with a country so notorious for its 9 p.m. dinners, though we were dining at 7 or so. Our Chile-to-Salta bus´ arrival an hour early had pleasantly surprised us, though we thought nothing of it later. And when the laundromat seemingly closed an hour early we threw a fit because it stranded us an extra day.
Now, I realized, we had advanced a time zone to the east when we crossed the border with Chile four days earlier. The driver must have reminded everyone on the bus about this during our sprint, before we caught up with it at customs. Consequently, we had spent the week living on Chilean time.
We reset our clocks and apologized to the night manager. If not for his wakeup knock, we would still be in Salta.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Wine + Mummy Museum = Nightmares

SALTA, Argentina -- We have found ourselves stranded, once more, in a city a day beyond our planned departure. This time, we made a calculated decision to stay and wait rather than abandon our clothes at the laundromat. We dropped them off yesterday morning, and when we returned at 9:15 p.m. to pick them up, we found the laundromat had closed, with our clothing locked inside. They had told us they would stay open until 10 p.m. I think that was a lie.
We would have arrived earlier, but we needed to finish our wine at the Patio de la Empanada, sort of like a food court with only one kind of food (thanks to Andrew for the recommendation). And we needed the wine to wipe away the memory of the most disturbing museum exhibit we have ever seen.
The new-ish museum, MAAM (Museum of the High Mountains, www.maam.org.ar), topped my list of things to do in Salta. It exhibits mummies found at the summit of a 6,700-meter volcano, preserved in perhaps the most perfect conditions possible. In retrospect, we should have realized seeing the remains of 6-year-old children sacrificed by the Incas 500 years ago would be somewhat disturbing. The museum explained its reasons for the exhibit over and over (a rare glimpse at the roots of an ancient culture still alive today), and it was done in a professional, educational manner, and we would have gone if we had to do it all over again. But still, we needed the wine. And it went nicely with the mini-empanadas -- we had a pile of 14 cheese, beef and chicken varieties, plus the wine, water and Fanta, for a grand total of $15.
But we were still a little creeped out. It only made matters worse that earlier, the night manager at the hotel (we are constantly befriending talkative night managers) told us about duendes. We had heard of these leprechaun-like creatures, and his tale confirmed that everyone in Salta, center of the duende universe, believed fervently in them. We saw duende-themed stores and bars on the way back to the hotel, selling garden gnomes that looked just like the one our Dutch friends on the Uyuni tour stole from their parents´ garden, then sent snapshots back in the mail (he´s traveling independently, they told us). Duendes abounded. The night manager pointed out the YouTube video recently shot near Salta by a group of teenagers (search for Duende de Guemes) and explained that the duendes don´t hurt anyone ... they just move things around and pilfer objects. You keep them at bay by leaving out cigarettes and whiskey (a tradition that extends to the dead ... we saw cigarettes and whiskey, plus coca leaves, all over the cemetery in Sucre ... and to shrines to Pachamama, the Earth Mother, and to El Tío, the underworld god in the Potosí mines.).
We had no time for buying cigarettes and whiskey. So when something woke me up around 4 in the morning (a bad dream, a noise, empanada hallucinations ... I don´t know) I jumped right into full-fledged paranoid delusion.
We´re staying in an extremely old, extremely dark youth hostel, and I was paralyzed by fear. I thought duendes were surrounding the bed, and I assumed they had come up through the bathroom drain (rats do that in South Florida, and I noticed the drain grate was loose earlier. I had forgotten to put something heavy over it). I became convinced the duendes wanted to steal the tissue packets I had just purchased and left on the nightstand. As I have a terrible cold, I wanted to hide the tissues so the duendes could not take them. But I was afraid that if I moved I would surprise the duendes and anger them. I did not want to turn on the light to see an army of pointy-hatted little Travelocity gnomes, and I was afraid that in their anger they might call on the mummies at the museum. Having just seen the mummies literally in the flesh, the prospect of their encore appearance terrified me. I was too tired to deal with it. So I told the duendes to please go away, and promised to bring them cigarettes and whiskey tomorrow. Let´s hope that buys us some rest tonight so we can make the 7 am bus to the wineries tomorrow.