Skiing in Chapelco was wonderful. The powder was absolutely dumping on us throughout the whole first day, and I have no complaints except for the prominance of tow ropes...especially on the extremely steep lift that brings you to the summit... It would do them well to invest in some real chairlifts. We ended that Saturday frolicking in the perfect snow at the top of the mountain, reluctant to ski down at the end of the day.
So, I go home tomorrow. If anyone besides my parents is still reading this, thanks for following my adventures all the way through to the grand finish. I learned, saw and thought a good amount, and had fun recording it all here. If I experience some really intense reverse-culture shock upon my return, I might write about how that is, but don´t count on it.
Also, if you don´t have a facebook and are interested in seeing all of my pictures, let me know (via e-mail or on here) and I´ll link you to the albums.
See you all back in the good ole US of A
Arielle
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Mis(sed)/preconceptions
Here in the city there are definitely foods I´ll miss (faina, constant empanadas, delicious fruit,) but I was somewhat surprised, if not disappointed, by the food here. I really found myself looking forward to something with a little more local flavor, but none of the porteño traditional dishes really stand out ethnically. This can be easily attributed to the Eurocentrism that runs rampant here. Porteños are more interested in the assimilationist ´melting pot´than ´salad-bowl,´which helps explain the unavoidable racism, elitism, and separatism from the rest of Latin Americathat is so prevalent here in the city. So, this sad fact transfers over to the culinary life of Buenos Aires, resulting in a very pathetic lack of ethnic food. There is something like five Thai restaurants in the entire city. I was also told that the sushi here is so pathetic that the tuna rolls contain canned tuna. ATROCIOUS. But in general, the food is over-salted, under-nutritious, and frankly a bit boring. At least the meat is delicious. Remember when I explained the Uruguayan version of hamburger, the chivito? Here, the hamburger is called a milanesa. breaded and fried cutlet (meat, chicken, even eggplant,) that is eaten either hot or cold and usually as a sandwich. Even less exciting than it sounds.
While I consider myself to be sometimes nocturnal, I´ll be glad to be back to a ´normal´(or maybe ´healthy´is the better word) sleep schedule. Eating dinner at 10 or 11 each night, and then going out from 1AM until 6 or 7AM is pretty tiring. I´m not ashamed to admit that I have slept from 11PM until 2AM, and then, after much fighting and bargaining with myself in my bed, left the apartment to meet friends. A big problem, though, is the late dinner time, because it holds true also for the weekdays. This routine puts one to sleep just an hour or two after finishing dinner, only to wake up horribly, disgustingly full the next morning. I´m pretty sure this is the real explanation for the Argentine reluctance to eat breakfast, and the justitfication for my dire craving for a proper breakfast with eggs and other things delicious.
The aforementioned split betweenBuenos Aires and the rest of Latin America is enhanced by the almost-tangible separation between them at the Interior, which is to say, the city of Buenos Aires and the entire rest of the country. The city is so in touch with its European culture that the majority of European immigrants live here, whereas other Latin American immigrants tend to reside in the Interior, or at least the outskirts of the city. This divide is blamed by many for the constant political unrest, and the inability to settle the majority of these problems. When the people can´t unite with each other, they can hardly be expected to unite against their government. I have heard this divide explained not as a separation of parties, but rather as a divide almost between countries.
Another interesting cultural difference is the daily 4-7 PM merienda. I think in English we would translate this to´snacktime.´It serves to hold one over between lunch and dinner and normally consists of coffee/tea, croissants, miga (crustless white bread sandwicheswith ham and mayonnaise,) or empanadas. During this time the cafes are generally relatively full,I think mainly because the idea of coffee ´to-go´has not (yet) taken over here. Coffee is a social rather than a physical and purely caffeine-driven ritual, always enjoyed sitting down, and serves as a ´part´of the day in its own right. Not two months ago, Starbucks opened its first branch here, and I have yet to pass the building without an enormous line around the block. I guess we´ll see if it succeeds in transforming the coffee rite into just another source of caffeine to be ingested between other ´more important´activities.
Leave tomorrow for my ski trip!
While I consider myself to be sometimes nocturnal, I´ll be glad to be back to a ´normal´(or maybe ´healthy´is the better word) sleep schedule. Eating dinner at 10 or 11 each night, and then going out from 1AM until 6 or 7AM is pretty tiring. I´m not ashamed to admit that I have slept from 11PM until 2AM, and then, after much fighting and bargaining with myself in my bed, left the apartment to meet friends. A big problem, though, is the late dinner time, because it holds true also for the weekdays. This routine puts one to sleep just an hour or two after finishing dinner, only to wake up horribly, disgustingly full the next morning. I´m pretty sure this is the real explanation for the Argentine reluctance to eat breakfast, and the justitfication for my dire craving for a proper breakfast with eggs and other things delicious.
The aforementioned split betweenBuenos Aires and the rest of Latin America is enhanced by the almost-tangible separation between them at the Interior, which is to say, the city of Buenos Aires and the entire rest of the country. The city is so in touch with its European culture that the majority of European immigrants live here, whereas other Latin American immigrants tend to reside in the Interior, or at least the outskirts of the city. This divide is blamed by many for the constant political unrest, and the inability to settle the majority of these problems. When the people can´t unite with each other, they can hardly be expected to unite against their government. I have heard this divide explained not as a separation of parties, but rather as a divide almost between countries.
Another interesting cultural difference is the daily 4-7 PM merienda. I think in English we would translate this to´snacktime.´It serves to hold one over between lunch and dinner and normally consists of coffee/tea, croissants, miga (crustless white bread sandwicheswith ham and mayonnaise,) or empanadas. During this time the cafes are generally relatively full,I think mainly because the idea of coffee ´to-go´has not (yet) taken over here. Coffee is a social rather than a physical and purely caffeine-driven ritual, always enjoyed sitting down, and serves as a ´part´of the day in its own right. Not two months ago, Starbucks opened its first branch here, and I have yet to pass the building without an enormous line around the block. I guess we´ll see if it succeeds in transforming the coffee rite into just another source of caffeine to be ingested between other ´more important´activities.
Leave tomorrow for my ski trip!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
The Chipá and the Whale
Wow, it´s been kind of a while since I gave any sort of legitimate update on here. But it´s so discouraging not to have my own computer, so give me a break. As of yesterday, I have finished three of my six classes - only two finals to go (painting class doesn´t require a final. Or any painting at all, for that matter.) Right before turning in my finals, I had a week of schoolwork-related craziness, but that is pretty much over now.
To celebrate the almost end of finals, I went with a friend to Puerto Madryn this past weekend. It´s on the Atlantic shore of Patagonia, a (mere) nineteen-hour bus ride south from Buenos Aires. We had the best seats on the bus, but that (sadly, oh so sadly,) did not stop us from enduring a baby that cried for a remarkable many hours, in a remarkably high pitched voice. Even so, we made it alive to the small port town that stays on the map only through tourism and its massive aluminum plant. After dumping our packs at the hostel, we stopped at a beachside snackbar for lunch. After choosing stools at the bar looking out over te ocean, we noticed some floating mass drifting parallel to shore, maybe 50 feet out. Suddenly, like 20 feet behind this hovering body (I swear it was dead,) a Southern Right Whale jumped clear out of the water, flaunting its enormous self to all of us land-dwelling species, just for a moment. This little demonstration went on all through lunch, with what I can only assume were many different groups of whales. Our waiter was far from phased. I can´t believe someone could actually become anesthetized to this. It´s pretty far from seeing a show at Sea World over and over again.
The next day we booked an all day tour, which involved a trip to Península Valdez. We saw ostrich-type guys, llama-types, wild flamingos (!? so random,) sheep, elephant seals, birds, and, my personal favorite, a possible relative of ManBearPig, the , but who I prefer to call DeerRabbitSquirrel.
Most spectacular of this tour was definitly the whale-watching boat, whose captain needn´t bother trying to spot whales, there were groups of them, literally, in every direction. Since it was the right season, we were able to see many mothers with their calves, helping them breathe and play and so on.
For dinner, Josh and I got to eat some really delicious fresh fish, a definite rarity in the city. Our last day was spent in the Welsh towns of Trelew and Gaiman. This was kind of a silly day - we had traditional Welsh tea and cakes - but it was nice to see such small historical pueblos, a welcome change from the Capital.
Another little outing I took was to the feria de Mataderos. This is another weekend artisan fair (there are various ones throughout the city´s different neighborhoods, each with its own special flavor,) but this one takes the cake in all respects. After an hour long public bus ride to the southeast corner of the city, you arrive at a feria crammed between narrow residential streets full of venders, roughly organized by wares. In addition to the regular Buenos Aires feria goods, Mataderos boasts specialty items from the Interior: workshops for tango, folkloric guitar playing, lassoing, gaucho (Argentine cowboy) horsemanship expositions, live music, and delicious food traditional of the Interior. My favorite is chipá, a bread whose dough involves finely grated cheese so that its crumb is very dense and, needless to say, delicious. Mmm...maybe I´ll go back this weekend...[here is a photo of one of the tango workshops]
After finally fishing The Source, I burned my way through Barbara Kingsolver´s Homeland. It was a huge improvement from her The Bean Trees, but, as I think we would expect, not nearly as beautiful as her Posionwood Bible. I just started Wallace Stegner´s Angle of Repose, and I am already floored by what a pleasure it is to read. It is filled with really wonderful insightful passages by its protagonist and I can´t wait to make my way further into the story. I have a good feeling about this one.
I´m actually only here for two and a half more weeks! I made a list of things I have yet to do, both inside the city and out. I plan to take one last trip to a ski mountain in Western Patagonia, so that should be a fun way to say goodbye to the country. I also made a list of foods I need to eat when I get home. It´s clearly going to be a bittersweet goodbye. More about that a little later on.
Until the next!
To celebrate the almost end of finals, I went with a friend to Puerto Madryn this past weekend. It´s on the Atlantic shore of Patagonia, a (mere) nineteen-hour bus ride south from Buenos Aires. We had the best seats on the bus, but that (sadly, oh so sadly,) did not stop us from enduring a baby that cried for a remarkable many hours, in a remarkably high pitched voice. Even so, we made it alive to the small port town that stays on the map only through tourism and its massive aluminum plant. After dumping our packs at the hostel, we stopped at a beachside snackbar for lunch. After choosing stools at the bar looking out over te ocean, we noticed some floating mass drifting parallel to shore, maybe 50 feet out. Suddenly, like 20 feet behind this hovering body (I swear it was dead,) a Southern Right Whale jumped clear out of the water, flaunting its enormous self to all of us land-dwelling species, just for a moment. This little demonstration went on all through lunch, with what I can only assume were many different groups of whales. Our waiter was far from phased. I can´t believe someone could actually become anesthetized to this. It´s pretty far from seeing a show at Sea World over and over again.
The next day we booked an all day tour, which involved a trip to Península Valdez. We saw ostrich-type guys, llama-types, wild flamingos (!? so random,) sheep, elephant seals, birds, and, my personal favorite, a possible relative of ManBearPig, the , but who I prefer to call DeerRabbitSquirrel.
Most spectacular of this tour was definitly the whale-watching boat, whose captain needn´t bother trying to spot whales, there were groups of them, literally, in every direction. Since it was the right season, we were able to see many mothers with their calves, helping them breathe and play and so on.
For dinner, Josh and I got to eat some really delicious fresh fish, a definite rarity in the city. Our last day was spent in the Welsh towns of Trelew and Gaiman. This was kind of a silly day - we had traditional Welsh tea and cakes - but it was nice to see such small historical pueblos, a welcome change from the Capital.
Another little outing I took was to the feria de Mataderos. This is another weekend artisan fair (there are various ones throughout the city´s different neighborhoods, each with its own special flavor,) but this one takes the cake in all respects. After an hour long public bus ride to the southeast corner of the city, you arrive at a feria crammed between narrow residential streets full of venders, roughly organized by wares. In addition to the regular Buenos Aires feria goods, Mataderos boasts specialty items from the Interior: workshops for tango, folkloric guitar playing, lassoing, gaucho (Argentine cowboy) horsemanship expositions, live music, and delicious food traditional of the Interior. My favorite is chipá, a bread whose dough involves finely grated cheese so that its crumb is very dense and, needless to say, delicious. Mmm...maybe I´ll go back this weekend...[here is a photo of one of the tango workshops]
After finally fishing The Source, I burned my way through Barbara Kingsolver´s Homeland. It was a huge improvement from her The Bean Trees, but, as I think we would expect, not nearly as beautiful as her Posionwood Bible. I just started Wallace Stegner´s Angle of Repose, and I am already floored by what a pleasure it is to read. It is filled with really wonderful insightful passages by its protagonist and I can´t wait to make my way further into the story. I have a good feeling about this one.
I´m actually only here for two and a half more weeks! I made a list of things I have yet to do, both inside the city and out. I plan to take one last trip to a ski mountain in Western Patagonia, so that should be a fun way to say goodbye to the country. I also made a list of foods I need to eat when I get home. It´s clearly going to be a bittersweet goodbye. More about that a little later on.
Until the next!
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