Cordoba: Search for my new Solemate

Cordoba, located in the heart of Argentina, is the transportation (bus) hub of the country. You can literally take a bus headed for any part of the country. I arrived early Monday morning to empty streets and a sleepy hostal clerk, who told me that I was just in time to view the sunrise from their “amazing” rooftop deck. So, I dropped off my bags, and immediately headed up to the roof, to witness yet another “amazing” sunrise, in which the view was of course blocked by two much larger buildings a few blocks away.

After a long nap, to substitute for my lack of sleep due to a large smelly snoring seatmate, I walked around the town, and found myself living in the middle of cheap (in terms of attempts and cost) knock-off alley. From CDs to DVDs, sporty to trendy labels, watches, to various accessories like flashlights and radios, they had all your department store needs covered. The most popular purchases by the locales were winter wear and fake popular futbol team apparel. I was somewhat surprised to find that many of the knock-offs were possibly imported from China, and many of the items made very little attempt to even look authentic.

This actually got me thinking. With winter here and my wardrobe severelylacking in warmth, my kicks (shoes) tattered to the point that part of the sole flapped with the wind, everytime I took a step, it was finally time to do the dreaded, shopping. Entonces, I made several purchases throughout the city, from the trendy shopping mall to the pedestrian plaza to the knock-off street, when it was all said and done, I ended up adding at least another kilo or more to my bag. The toughest purchase, was when it was finally time to replace my Newbies (my kicks), who weren’t so new any more. A pair of New Balance 680s, they had been with me since I started the Asia/China leg of the trip, and accompanied me to witness, and in some case scale, three of the Wonders of the World. As hard as it was to say goodbye to Lefty and Rightie, this was saying goodbye to a solemate.

Now, I move forward into a new era with my new compadres, a pair of Adidas Supernova Trail 5s. With a name like that, I don’t need to give them names, at least not yet. (Ok, I am not going crazy, friends from home, know, how I am about my kicks.) The other purchases involved preparing for the cold front that was quickly approaching, as I headed for the highlands of Chile and Bolivia in the heart of winter.

As for the sightseeing, Cordoba is rich in culture with museums and churches, plentiful in nightlife with it’s abundant bars and clubs in the Nuevo Cordoba area, and surrounded by numerous colleges in the vicinity to supply the vibrant energy. But, as I was there during the weekdays, the nights were disappointingly quiet. Despite, all the activities the city has to offer, the pre-eminent activity, is a trip to Alta Garcia, a suburbian town about 45 minutes outside of Cordoba, home of the childhood home of Argentina’s most famous son, Che Guevara. Born in Rosario, Che was raised in Alta Garcia during his adolescent years, as his family relocated to the higher altitudede and the better climate, to help young Che deal with his asthma. The Guevara home is now a museum, displaying various mementos, including: Che’s homemade postcards to his aunt, his report cards, and various family photos, as well as other items, that chronicle his life, from: his famous motorcycle trip through South America, his developing friendship and eventual partnership with Fidel Castro, to his involvement in the Congo of Africa, and Bolivia, and even his final letters to his family and kids. One of the most interesting pictures I saw, was a picture of a young Che and Fidel, in a cell in Mexico, at the beginning of their budding friendship. As for the rest of Alta Garcia, there are more churches to visit, and supposedly a decent casino. But, along with my travel mates for the day: Leo, Rahil and Arun, we decided to pass on both,a nd headed back to our home for the night, Cordoba.

The rest of my time in Cordoba, was spent wandering through the streets and people watching at it’s main square, Plaza San Martin, where there seemed to be constant action and motion, between protests or celebrations, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Along the way, I visited the: Jesuit Crypt, where no one was actually buried, and was only recently re-discovered by a telecommunication company while installing cables; the Museum of Bella Artes; Iglesia de los Capuchinos, an ornately decorated church, which is completely symmetry on the outside, except for a missing spire on the leftside, to signify humanity’s imperfections; Ferreyra Palace, previously a private estate, which was donated to the government and is now home to a collection of contemporary art; and the Iglesia Catedralat San Martin, some what bland from the outside, but is amazingly beautiful on the inside, and unique in the way the outline of the church and the neighboring Cabildo is tiled into paving of square as to represent a shadow or reflection.

 

Dear Dairy: Sad News

One thing that I have always been grateful for, are the great people that have impacted my life. I have been very lucky to have had different mentors and people to look up to, throughout every stage of my life.

Unfortunately, as we get older, we begin to realize: that not only are we not immortal, but so are those that we look up to. Upon returning from the pampas of Bolivia, I was deeply saddened to learn about the passing of my former boss, Larry Todd. For more than seven years, I had the privilege to work with, learn from, and to be mentored, by not only one of the most talented engineers in the business, but probably one of the most dedicated husband and father, that I have ever known. The knowledge and skills he taught me as an engineer will stay with me for the rest of my career, but his commitment to his family and friends, will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Thank You, Larry. Rest in peace.

 

Embassy Part Two

Before leaving home, I had taped little maps of the world, covering the continents that I was planning to visit, during this trip. Next to the names of each country, I placed a symbol, indicating if a visa was required for citizens of the United States, and how laborious it would be to get one. For countries like: Nepal, Laos and Cambodia, it was just simply having passport photos and the fee in US Dollars, but for others such as Brazil it was another process within itself. Since leaving home, it was brought to my attention that two South American countries had instituted a visa requirement for people from the US. One was Chile, and the other Bolivia. According to the websites, their requirements for documentation, matched that of Brazil, and I only hoped that it was not nearly as much work. Back in Bariloche, I visited the Chilean Assembly, and was told that I would not need a visa, if my only purpose was for tourism. And, as you know by now, I was able to verify the rumor, that a visa and the fee could be circumvented if I entered the country via overland, rather than by flight.

I arrived in Salta early Friday afternoon, to meet up with my buds: Orla and Lorraine for a few more days of sightseeing, before I would head back into Chile and work my way home, north bound, as they ventured back south, in search of snow for some skiing and snowboarding. After, dropping of my bags, at the hostel, I located the Bolivian Embassy, and walked there with all my documents in hand, in hopes of getting, hopefully my last visa, for this trip. I arrived at the office, around noon, to find it quiet, with the only staff members chatting away over a glass of tea. One of the ladies came to the counter, to see what I needed. I told her, that I wanted to visit Bolivia, heard that I need a Visa as I am for the United States, brought my paperwork, and wanted to know how long it would take. She responded, by giving me the formal application with the checklist, and told me that the officer was not present, who would actually sign the visa, so please return on Monday morning. We than proceeded to go over each line on the application and the checklist, at my request, so that I could confirm that I would be able to get the visa by Monday afternoon. After filling out the application, we literally went over it, line by line, and she assured me that I would get it on Monday. When we reviewed the checklist, I pointed out that the hotel reservation and the roundtrip ticket requirement were impractical, due to my overland travel and path, to which she agreed and crossed it off the checklist. Feeling good, that it was a simple enough process as she promised, I left the office, with plans to return first thing Monday.

Bright and early Monday morning, I returned back to the office and got the same clerk. When I went to submit the application, with the materials, she said no, that I needed to re-submit with photocopies of the passport, entry stamp, and my immunization card. Puzzled, I asked why she didn’t mention that before, as it was early and many of the photocopy stories were not opened yet, and I could have easily done it over the weekend, if she had only mentioned it, as there was no mention on the checklist. She just waved me off, and said to return with it, and I will have my visa in a few hours. I than asked her: what about the visa fee, to which she said I would not have to pay. I was surprised at this, and asked again, are you sure as I thought there was a fee, she said: no, return with the copies and your visa will be ready in the afternoon. I proceeded to walk around for over half an hour, in search of a photocopy machine, and eventually returned to the embassy forty-five minutes later. I got the same lady again, and proceeded to submit all the documents and application, and we even used the checklist, as she accepted the materials. She smiled and told me to return between 1 and 2 pm, and said goodbye. As I approached the door, she yelled out me to wait, and she said: you need to pay a visa fee. You can only guess at my reaction. I returned to the desk, and reminded her that I asked this before, and she responded, but I thought you were Korean. I gave her a very upset look, and said: why, I said I was from the United States, and why would you assume Korea, I am not even Korean. She tried to slide back everything, as the fee had to be paid at the National Bank in town center, to which, I said: no, it’s not fair, I will pay, but you must accept my application now, as I am leaving tomorrow morning, I will trade you the receipt of payment for my passport, when I return after 1 pm. She agreed and I was now off to the center to pay my fee. As this was now the beginning of the month, and a Monday, the bank was absolutely packed, but luckily the special area of the bank, where I paid/deposited this fee, was less crowded. After another hour or so, the fee was paid, and I had an hour to kill before my visa was ready to be picked up. At 1:30 pm, I returned back to the office, to find the clerk that I was working with, out. The other lady came up, grabbed my submittals, and told me that my application was not accepted, as it was incomplete. She slide it back to me and pointed that I was missing the hotel reservations and roundtrip flight tickets. I explained to her, that we went over this twice, and it was accepted and acknowledged by the other lady not to be an issue. She responded, that the other lady was gone, and it was now too late, as the consulate officer was gone for the day. I was now pissed and said: No bueno, no bueno (not good). She told me to just come back tomorrow, but I absolutely needed everything from the checklist. At this point, I literally needed to breathe deeply in and out, before I was going to raise my voice and make everything worse. I asked her to come back to the counter and to re-review each item, at which time I showed her the notes and scribble made on the checklist, where those two items were specifically X’ed out, based on the discussion with the other lady. She said, she could not do anything else, and that I should return tomorrow. I than, showed her my receipt, told her to give me back my one hundred US Dollars, and I will take my things, and she could keep her visa, as this was not worth it. She looked lost, and said, just come back tomorrow. I said: no, give me money, and I am on my way, otherwise I should get my visa, as I have been here three times already, just today, and I am not leaving without a visa or my money. Than, guess who walks in, the other lady, she sees me and bolts to the corner of the office, I yell and wave at her, to review the application and to remind her, what she had said. But, she wouldn’t come close to me, as the two of them huddled, not knowing what to do next. I kept repeating: you said the application was good, that I didn’t need anything else. Just than, the consulate who was suppose to be gone for the day, comes in and sits at his desk. His appointment immediately sit down, and the two ladies didn’t want to approach him with this problem, so one of them returns to the counter and silently talks over the application with me. I held my ground, repeated, I am leaving early in the morning, my visa or my money. She grabbed the materials back, sat at her desk, and kept flipping through my items, until finally she calls over to the consulate, and describes the situation: I got a guy from America, that submitted his application, paid his fees, and is leaving tomorrow. He provided: the photocopy of the passport, immunization record, bank statement, passport photos, but he can’t provide hotel confirmation and roundtrip tickets, as he is traveling overland. To which the consulate, responds: Okay, give him the visa. This didn’t make the lady happy, especially since I heard it, she than told me to come back again in two hours, to which I said no, I will wait, as I didn’t want to return to find the office closed. She said return in two hours, to which I stood at the counter and said that I will just wait here. I continued to stay at the counter for half an hour and just watched her, hoping that she would expedite it, just to get rid of me. But, needing to use the facilities, I went next door to a restaurant, and returned less than five minutes later. When, I got back, both ladies were gone, and the consulate came to the counter and greeted me, he grabbed the passport off her desk, and showed me the visa, and wished me a good trip. Just, as he handed it to me, the lady walked back in, I thanked him, gave her a glare and walked out, hoping it was my final visa for the rest of this trip.

 

Wine Country

The six hour bus ride from Santiago, Chile, slowly became a 12 hour adventure. Originally scheduled to leave the Santiago bus terminal around 8:40 am, the bus finally arrived and departed closer to 10:30. Throughout much of South America, I have been able to sleep like a baby in it’s plush long distance buses. The options, are: the Clasico, where your fabric seat reclines maybe up to 45 degrees; the Semi-Cama, there is a leg rest, more width to your seat, and the seat reclines up to 55 degrees; the Cama, leather seats with leg rest, reclines up to 65 degrees and you are given blankets and pillow; and on some journeys the Executivo, where your seat can turn into a bed. With all these choices you are provided meals and/or snacks, and drinks, in the case of Cama and Executivo, wine and champagne is also available. Of course, this plush mode of transportation is said to only exisit in Brazil, Argentina and Chile, so for the time being, I have been taking advantage of the Semi-Cama as much as I can, as I personally have preferred the Semi option over the Cama, as I find the Cama’sseat to be stiffer and the leather to cause me to slide as I sleep. But, I digress…

For most of the journey I slept, until the bus would stop, thinking it was a border check point. Instead it turned out, that the bus stopped waiting for the snowing to let down or till the road ahead was cleared. Yes, I said snow, as my days of Skipping Winter, was now over. The bus proceeded to start and stop over the next few hours as we crossed the Andes, and eventually into Argentina. At the border, the back up of buses and cars, meant that it would take hours instead of minutes, so we hopped off the bus to walk in the snow, or in my case into the local snack shop/cafe to get myself a lomito (steak sandwich), welcome back to Argentina. The border check point took around two hours, and we arrived in Mendoza at 10 pm, instead of at 4 pm.

During the ride, I met Suzie from Oxford, England. As this was her first trip to Argentina, and she was headed for Buenos Aires, I spent a good deal of time telling her how much, I loved it there and why. The two of us decided to split a cab, and to go check out the hostel I had picked out based on the rankings on Hostelworld (website). After checking in, we went back out in search of food, in search of what else, but steak. After all, it was Suzie’s first meal in Argentina, and you have to have steak, to commemorate the occasion. Unfortunately, we had a hard time finding a good restaurant close to the hostel that night, and she had to settle for the worst steak, that I had to-date in Argentina. Welcome to Argentina, Suzie.

The next day, the two of us, went exploring the City of Mendoza with map in hand. That’s when you realize that many of the cities in Argentina are much the same, an urban planner’s dream or nightmare, as most of the heart of the city is set in a grid pattern, with a major square in the middle, and smaller squares/plazas spread throughout the city, and pedestrian shopping streets. And, maybe unique to Argentina, you will find the same street names, whether you are in Buenos Aires, Rosario or Mendoza, named after famous Argentines, it’s various provinces, and it’s significant dates in history.

The tour eventually led us to the famed (using that word very loosely) aquarium of Mendoza, built over 45 years ago, the facility is mostly underground, and resembles much more of a pet store than any educational or research institution/facility. But, for a mere entrance price of 3 pesos, it was probably the best buck, as I got to see, two very unique underwater species (using that words, as I don’t know what to call them: fish, reptile, mammal or freak). One, swam like a fish, and had a robo-cop appearance with it’s head turning side to side at much more of a severe angle than any fish can manage, than there was the thing, that we dubbed: the alien rat fish. As it was like a car crash, scary to look at, but you couldn’t but help to stare at. they were both truly bizarre and beyond words. So, if you are ever in the neighborhood, plan on spending those three pesos. Unfortunately the reptile exhibit was closed across the street, but I could only imagine, what exciting animals, we missed out on.

That night and the next day, would be a true test of patience for me. I am notorious for having a low tolerance for tardiness, at home, especially for deliberate disregard for other people’s time, knowing that others could not leave, until that last person showed up. Suzie found out that she had a friend in town, through Facebook(social network website), and made plans to meet up with him for dinner and a night out on the town, as he had been living in Mendoza for weeks now. Three of us headed out to his hostel, where we continued to wait for over an hour and a half, for one of his locale friends to show up. Than we continued to walk almost aimlessly in search of a restaurant, for over half an hour, when it was presumedthat he had already picked one out. The cherry on top, was when his friends, who wore winter appropriate clothing, opted to take the outdoor seats, inside of the warm indoors, while poor little Suzie was dressed more for a night out indoors, than outdoors. What started as a planned dinner for just before 10 pm, started after midnight, and left us with little time to make a club. (In Mendoza most of the clubs close their doors to new guests at 2 am, and the club area of town is located a 20 min plus taxi ride away). So, when the group ended up at a locale bar, with a heavy metal act, I quickly made my escape, and returned to the hostel.

The next day seven of us from the hostel headed out to the area of Maipu, home to more than a handful of vineyards, that has made Mendoza world famous in the world of wine. We rented bikes from Mr. Hugo, headed first for the wine museum, followed by an olive farm, three vineyards, and finally a chocolate factory, just before sunset. So, what is somebody who is allergic to alcohol/wine, doing on a wine tour? Remember, I am a lemming, and it is the main thing to do in Mendoza. Much like my fellow lemmings for the day, we had not been on a vineyard/wine tour before, but I became a bit frustrated when my compadres, spent most of our time at the vineyards trying to devise a plan to drink the most amount for as cheap as possible, to the point that they spend in excess of half an hour to just save 10 pesos. Here is how it works: at most of the vineyards, they have a tour of their premises and the winery process, it would include a guide, and at the end of the tour, you get to sample anywhere from three to five types of wine. The glass would not be full, more of a taste than anything else. At the completion of the tasting, you can pay 10 pesos and be on your way, or you can buy a bottle starting at 15 pesos, and the tour would be free. So my group devised a plan, to send one person into the tour, go through the tasting, and buy one of the cheaper bottles to share amongst the group. They wanted to do this at each of the vineyards so that each person would get a turn, there were six drinkers. About fed up with this, considering it was only a few bucks, and we were two hours into this bike ride, but only one vineyard down, I was about to take off, when common sense hit them, as they tried the 15 pesos bottle, and found out: you get what you paid for. It is well known that buying the bottles does not guarantee you the lowest price, but you do get a much better selection. So the group decided to pick up the pace, and at the last winery of the day, the oldest in Maipu/Mendoza, we all joined the tour, and they all agreed it was the best wine they had sampled all day. As for me, the cafe con leche really hit the spot, as it was starting to really get cool, as the sun was setting.

25 de Mayo, is one of the most commonly named streets and plaza/park throughout Argentina, as it is known as “el Dia de la Revolucion de Mayo,” or Revolution Day of May, commemorating the sequence of events in 1810, leading up to Argentina’s declaration of independence from Spain. As it was already Sunday, and now Independence Day, the town markets and shops were quiet, but the streets and plazas a buzz. In the main square they had an exhibition or fair of sorts, where various branches of the armed forces, displayed their gear, machinery, uniforms, and vehicles, as kids and adults, ooh-ed and aah-ed, over their guns, night vision goggles, and artillery vehicles. The town was draped with flags, and the colors of the flag: baby powder blue and white, even the fountains throughout the town, now spat out blue water to celebrate this occasion. In the afternoon, I swapped groups, as most of my fellow bikers, were nursing a wine hangover from the day and night before, and went to a smaller square where they had a festival filled with food stalls, pastries, sandwiches, and a stage showcasing singing, dancing, and speeches. The evening and event, was finished off with a small fireworks show, which didn’t really do the trick, as the sun had yet to set, but the release of hundreds of blue and white balloons, followed by white birds, did impress the crowd. Later that night, I caught another overnight bus for Cordoba.

 

Future Lemming?

So you want to be a fellow lemming? Many people often say in amazement: I could never do a trip like that, how do you even plan for such a trip? The answer is, you can plan only so much, and just know, that you can always do the same with a lot less, both in planning and things/items. Along the way, I have often tried to pretend what I would do, or how I would get along if I did this trip as my parents, meaning twenty or more years ago. I guess that is why I am doing it, as it was a lot more difficult or even impossible for lemmings to glide into and out of countries, such as: Russia, China, former Eastern Germany… But, with guide books (like it or not) paving the road, along with the internet providing volumes of information and suggestions, it really isn’t that difficult. So, being the engineer that I am, or at least what I use to be (when I actually worked for a living), here are some information to help you prepare for your trip of a lifetime, so that you don’t have to re-invent the wheel. (This entry is dedicated (and in trade, for her on-line journal) to Erin, who I met on the Russia tour group, as she has decided to do a similar trip starting at the beginning of 2009. Have a blast, and come visit me, at…?)

Before you leave:

Vaccinations.Start early with some research as some require multiple inoculations, up to six months prior, others are only good for a shorter time, so plan accordingly. Research the countries you are likely to go, and the adjacent countries (as you are likely to veer off-track), and what shots are required. Yellow Fever is a must when visiting South American countries, as many visas will not be granted without proof of such shots. Sidenote: it was actually less than 50 percent cheaper for me to get the shots at the County Public Health Center, than through my private doctor, so do some research before forking out the money. Also, note that different areas require different shots.

Malaria pills. Can be pricey and may not be covered by your health care provider, so start your research early, as my carrier would only subsides for the first three months, and told me to come back each month after that to get the subsequent doses, meaning fly back home! There are daily and weekly tablets, each with it’s own set of side-affects, do your due diligence. The daily ones, can be purchased overseas, fairly easily. You also need extra pills, for it to be effective, start one week before and up to four weeks after you leave the malaria infected region.

Visas.Some require up to a couple weeks to process, and are only valid for a defined date, after issuance. So do your research on which require and what items are required, and they do vary dependent on your country of citizenship. You can always acquire while in a neighboring country, but it may affect your schedule. Advisable to get any visas you may need for the first few months of your trip in advance. Always inquire about the multiple entry visa, as they are often the same price, and it is just dependent on which box the officer/clerk checks on your application. Items commonly required for a visa application: two passport type photos (so bring plenty of extra, at least a dozen), photocopy of your passport (front page with info and picture), photocopy of your international immunization record (yellow fever, TB shots…), and some countries require proof that you can financially support yourself to leave the country, therefore they request: photocopy of return airplane ticket, hotel reservation, and bank or credit card statement (see my experience at the Brazilian Embassy). I have found ways around this, and often it is just talking to a sensible officer, who can review your passport and see that you are backpacking and traveling via overland. If that doesn’t work, make a reservation on-line for a flight, print out the reservation, than cancel it. Same with the hostel/hotel reservation, they often just need it for one place and only one day, although they may try to request it for your whole trip, the only exception may be Russia. Lastly, always have some US denomination on you, as that has been the globally accepted currency outside of the local currency, may change with the current devaluation of the greenback. Remember, you can always change the local currency into US bills at any currency exchange, so don’t need to carry too much.

Notifications and on-line accounts.In today’s world, most of your accounts can be managed via the internet, so set those accounts and their accessibility via the internet up. Such as: Banks, Credit Cards, 401/IRA/retirement accounts, Insurance (including travel), cell phone company… Many banks and credit companies may suspend/freeze your account if they see overseas transactions, so notify them in advance and the proposed duration, mine required a notification, every six months.

New on-line accounts. This type of travel is actually fairly common, especially with the other English speaking countries, such as people from: England, Ireland, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, along with other European countries, such as the Scandinavian countries, Germany, France, Spain… As a result, many businesses and websites, have evolved to help the lemmings, move along and stay in touch (all, www dot coms):

Facebook.Social networking site, where you can keep in touch with people from home and people you have met along the way, to exchange travel advice and information. Think myspace, but much more vanilla, and only people you want to see your page, can.

Couchsurfing. I haven’t used it, but is gaining momentum. Site where you can meet locales, for coffee, dinner, or for a free bed on a couch, as the locales gets to practice their English and meet a traveler, and you get a locale friend that may be able to show you around, practice the locale language. and possibly a free bed. The site does include a rating system, so you can see feedback from those that have met the individual before.

Hostelworld.Reservations for hostals/guesthouses around the world. The rating system, keeps the establishment on their toes, as each person who makes a reservation, can provide feedback after their stay. Sites like this are vital to the lemming community when in search of the next bed in the next foreign country, foreign city. If you plan to make many reservations through them, purchase the Gold Card for $10 USD, as each booking cost $2 USD, but is free for a year with the Gold Card. reservations can be booked with a minimum of one day in advance. Other booking websites, include: Hostelbookers and Hostels.

Hostel International (HI).A worldwide organization, which establishes a minimum standard for hostels to meet. A hostel must meet those criteria to be deemed a HI Hostel. When you are a member, you get a minor discount (often 10%), when staying at those hostels, along with some other benefits. My two cents: didn’t use it much in Europe, as non-HI Hostels are often better, but in China, many were and came in handy, in South America it’s a mixed bag. You can always purchase it at any HI Hostel, so don’t need to join at home, as membership starts immediately.

Skype. Call via a computer/internet connect for as low as 2-cents a minute. Nuff said, as it’s often cheaper to call with this service, down the street, than via a public telephone. You can even call for free to a friend at home with webcam, of they are operating on Skype at the same time. takes literally a few minutes to set up the account, and you can than use it, around the world. A must if you want to stay in touch, not if you want to be lost.

New E-Mail Account.I assume you already have one of these. But, I have found it most useful and practical to have a separate e-mail account for the purpose of staying in-touch during the trip. So that the other e-mails for bills and your previous working life, doesn´t get mixed with your new and constant contacts, during your trip. I also created a second account, with which, I pdf and e-mailed copies of important documents, so that I can access around the world, such as passport, driver’s license, plane tickets, visas…

Photo-sharing.Such as Flickr, Kodak, Butterfly… there are many. Pick one that lets you store, access, and share based on your needs. There are many, often each with a set of pros and cons. I mostly use Kodak, due to it’s unlimited storage, and ease to share with friends, just by forwarding a link, con is the time it takes to upload an album.

Blog.If you are reading this, nuff said. Keep in mind, you can write a private journal on-line, as well.

Round-The-World (RTW) Tickets.Via a travel agent, you can buy one plane ticket that will cover the globe. Don’t try to fly or book every leg, as things will change. just pick one arrival city, and a separate departure city for each continent, you want to cover, If you need to fly in-between, there are many locale budget airlines, that will do the trick. I didn’t have the time, knowledge and experience to set this up, and may have paid more a a result. But it has worked fine for me. as all flights have to take place, after that first departure. As a substitute, I have purchased/found each flight via websites, such as: Sidestep, Airtimetable, Mobissimo…

Things to bring.

Seriously, there is nothing, you can’t get almost anywhere around the world. The only question is the quality and the price. Often, they are inferior and cheaper, in those distant, less developed countries, but their are exceptions. So if there are any items tat are near and dear to you, that is the decision you have to make, as I have seen people bring the strangest things, such as their wobbie(?)/safety blanket. For me, these have been essential:

Camera. Get familiar with your camera, before you leave, as you are unlikely to keep or read the instruction manual on the trip or ever. Pick one, based on size and weight, most importantly. But for me, I have appreciated my selection based on memory card type as well as battery. As it’s a good idea to bring extra memory cards, and extra battery, wouldn’t believe all the places where my primary battery has dies at. Imagine hiking to the top of Mount Sinai to watch the sunrise, and due to the cold, the first battery dies out, just as the sin was finally rising. Of course, that also means, the size and weight of the battery charger, which I much prefer over the use of portable batteries (i.e. Duracells and Energizers). Many times, I wish I had one of those super cameras, with telephoto electron powered microscope lens, but my cassette sized (remember those? for those born before the 80s) camera, has done the trick just fine.

Phone/Blackberry.I brought one of each. My old cell phone, which I unlocked and now purchase SIM cards, to make local calls, when I am in the same place for a period of time, for me in: China, Taiwan and Argentina. And, of course my Blackberry has been the envy of all other backpackers, as i am not a slave to the internetcafe, when staying in touch via e-mail or Facebook, or when writing drafts of this blog. If you bring an international cell phone, much like the Blackberry, look into international rates/programs, especially on the cost of texting, which has become an international phenomenon.

Ipod/MP3 Players. Do I need to really say more. Just imagine all the marathon bus and train rides, along with waits, where the locale country has no concept on the time-value-of-money.

ATM/Credit Cards.Open an extra account, and look at what the cost are for international usage. Having two of each has been invaluable, especially in countries like Argentina, where they limit each ATM transaction to the equivalent of $100 USD. I opened a credit union account, which allows me to use ATMsaround the world with Plus or Cirrus, and pays all the ATM fees for me, probably has saved me hundreds of dollars, already. There are also banks which are international, with branches and ATMs around the world, such as: HSBC. When bring a credit card, advisable to have one a Visa and the other a Mastercard, for some strange reason, some areas take one, but not the other.

Clothes/Shoes.The lighter (weight) the better, as you will carry it with you, until you decide to toss it. Which also means: don’t bring that favorite shirt or pants, unless you are willing to part with it, or have it destroyed. The darker the better in many cases, as it may be returned to you, dirtier/stained from the laundry. Camouflage cargo pants, are probably the most popular article piece of clothing, for that reason. Plan on rotating you clothing if on a long trip, between the season (even if you were planning to skip winter) and mere practical use, as you will likely return home with a different wardrobe.

Misc. Ziplock bags are great for odds and ends, such as: shampoo when it explodes in your bag, and storage of little mementos along the way. Travel sack, when you just don’t like the look/stains of the bed that is home for the night. Interesting enough, most of the camping type gear are imported for the States or Europe, so if you want the real thing, it will cost more overseas. But you must assess how much you will use it, to warrant carrying it all. Locale brands often do the trick, and you can always look into rental.

Guidebooks.Remember they are merely a guide-book, full of people’s suggestion, not gospel. So take it with a grain of salt, as the publishing date is often many months or even years since the author actually visited the establishment. In many cases, you can buy that English version, in that locale country at a premium, or in the case of Southeast Asia, fake copies can be purchased almost anywhere at a fraction of the cost. Carry as many or little as you want, as it’s the heaviest item considering it’s weight, yes for all those fellow engineers, we are speaking density. I have adopted the practice of ripping out the pages, when I pass through that city or country. Most popular brands, covering the globe, are: Lonely Planet, Rough Guides, and Footprints.

And Most Importantly:a good attitude, respect and an open mind. Remember you are not at home anymore, and although it may seem backward, archaic, and sometimes just wrong; it is you that is the foreigner and guest, not them. Many times, my fellow lemmings are stuck on the locale culture, to the point where it absolutely ruins their trip, an example if the act of spitting in China and India, and the requirement for females to cover up in Muslim countries.

HAPPY TRAVELS!!!

 

One Year

Ahoj, Goddag/Hej, Privet, Pryvitani, Dzien Dobry, Guten Tag/Hallo, Jo Napot, Zdravo, Zdraveite, Merhaba, Salaam, Ni Hao, Kam Sangbo Dugay, Namaste, Sawatdi, Sabaai-Dii, Ola and Hola. In other words: Hello, from around the world, or at least from most of the countries that I have visited this past twelve months.

My one year anniversary, since I left home on 6 June, 2007 (like how I am using the international standard date format), has come and past. There was no speech, no fireworks, and not even a cake to celebrate the occasion, in reality, I barely remembered the date, only reminded by the fact that I received an exit stamp from Chile, and an entry stamp into Bolivia, with that date stamped into my passport.

To quickly catch you up, to where I am now: I re-entered into Argentina through the snow filled Andes, going east from Santiago, Chile to the wine country of Mendoza, Argentina. I spent three days there, highlighted by a vineyard tour self-led on bike. Don’t worry I haven’t picked up drinking or smoking (as the self portrait may have indicated) since I have left home, but the bike tour is a must do, while in Mendoza, and everybody always needs a designated pedaler. Next, I visited the second biggest city in Argentina, Cordoba, also considered by some as the culture capital of Argentina, if not all of South America. After a few days, I hopped on another overnight bus, to Salta where I met up with my Irish Sisters (Orla and Lorraine) for our last hurrah, before we headed in different directions, and not knowing when and where we would ever meet up again. The freezing desert of San Pedro de Atacama (Chile), was the next destination, where: I battled against a huge dose of altitude sickness, learned about the stars from a world famous astronomer, got my butt kicked, and was re-introduced to the love of traveling. From there, I hopped on a three day off-road trip into Bolivia, where I witnessed some of the most unique, wonderful, and serene landscape, that these eyes has seen. From the Salar de Uyuni (Uyuni Salt Flats), I re-entered third world civilization (defined by a city with population count greater than 100 thousand), into Potosi, the world’s highest city, at 4060m.

I will hopefully write in-depth about the last few weeks, but after catching up on the blog in Buenos Aires, I have found it very easy to fall behind. Today, I found the time to write this summary as I am now confined (not trapped) in Potosi, Bolivia, due to the number of protest and instability in the country. Waking up this morning, with the intention of traveling to Sucre, we discovered the bus companies were all shut down, and the roads are blocked due to various reasons. In summary, the political climate of Bolivia is some what volatile, as part of the country, specifically the affluent province/region of Santa Cruz wants to be autonomous. About a month ago, that region voted to separate from the national government led by President Evo Morales. The national government, deemed the vote to be illegal, and in a possible move for re-affirmation of his popularity, President Evo Morales (it´s first indigenous President), proposed a vote in August, where it’s citizens will vote on whether he, his government officials, and local representatives, will stay in office. The issue of autonomy stems from many issues, diversity and ethnicity, but most probably due to the issue to wealth and class, as the regions seeking autonomy are rich in wealth as well as gas resources, and are not fans of the left-winged President. So, how does this effect me getting confined to a working class town of Potosi? What was once one of the richest cities in South America if not the world, is now a struggling mining town with rich cultural history, filled with churches and one of the best museum on all of Bolivia, well according to some of the people I have talked to, the miners have taken this opportunity to protest against their minimal wages and taxes that is being passed down to them by the rich companies. Information is varied and sporadic, and quickly reminds me that I am in a third world country. The goal was to get to La Paz by the end of the week, which puts me on track to enter Peru in less than a couple weeks, but now, who knows.

To many, especially those with timelines and set dates to return home, they have found this frustrating and annoying. Just this morning, I have heard many, vent out in frustration with the use of: some expletives, and I hate this place. Personally, I don’t blame them for feeling that way, but in reality that is what traveling on a developing country is all about, and for someone who is traveling with no schedule, I am enjoying the ride, and respond with these three words: Welcome to Bolivia!

Hope all is well. Go Lakers!!!

 

Skipping Winter: Chilly Chile

Chile, the question was: to go or not to go? For United States citizens, as according to the embassy websites, are required to obtain a visa, at a cost of $131 USD. But, word on the street was that if you entered the country via overland, the whole visa process and fee was ignored. The girls wanted to visit Pucon and hike to the Villarrica Volcano one of the most active volcanoes in all of South America, where we can actually see lava boiling from within the earth. Keep in mind, this is less than two weeks since the volcano in Chaten Chile blew, resulting in ashes as high as 12 miles into the air. So with little to contemplate, I signed on to join them for the next leg and we were off and bid a farewell to Bariloche.

In the morning that we left Bariloche, we were awakened by heavy rains, and would later find out, that it proceeded to rain for many days after our departure. We left just in time, or so we thought. First we headed for the small town of San Martin de los Andes, located a 4 hour bus ride north of Bariloche. After a 3 hour ride, we arrived in Junen de los Andes, and Lorraine said that we should hop off, as it was more of a transportation hub to Chile, and the adjacent national park was home to another volcano that we can hike the base of. As, this was a bit off the lemming track, we checked into a hotel rather than a hostel, and roamed through the town for any possible excursion that would still be do-able in-spite of the rain. The tourist office, informed us that this was very off season, and that access to the volcano and park would be hard via public transportation, and that based on the current weather, hiking around would not necessarily be recommended. Realizing that our opportunity to see the actual volcano was slim and none, as I walked out the door, I snapped a quick shot of the picturesque poster on the wall, with a view of the volcano from the lake, of what we should have seen other than just the clouds. The tourist information clerk laughed and offered me a brochure with more pictures with her sympathies for the in-climatic weather.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent, walking through the small center of the city, with a visit to the marquee church, which is very artistic in thought and construction, as every aspect from the designs on the floor to wall to doors, and even the orientation and design of the table had a significant meaning. According to the nun who briefed us about the church in Spanish, the church is a celebration more of Jesus’ life, rather than his death, and concentrates on the four basic elements of: water, fire, air and land.

The next morning, we got up, well before sunrise, and caught a bus to Pucon, Chile. Going through the border of Argentina and Chile, was fairly non-eventful, other than the fact, that you immediately realized that Chile was much different than the other South American countries. The building on Chile’s side was much more modern, even equipped with a large x-ray machine, which I had yet to see at other overland border. Chile’s economy is: one of, if not, the strongest economy in South America. You wouldn’t be able to tell based on the currency, as $1 USD equals 470 Chilean Pesos, but as soon as you tried to pay for something, you quickly realized that you weren’t in Argentina, anymore.

We arrived into Pucon sometime afternoon, with the weather a bit cold and the sky covered in clouds, but at least it wasn’t raining, right? The first day, was spent walking through the city, and finding out information about the famed volcano hike. Everyone we asked, told us the same: they were out of here, as they waited around for two or three days, and still no hike, as it was too cloudy to complete. With little other options, the next day with scattered rains throughout the day, we signed up and went on a whitewater rafting trip. Heck, you were going to get wet anyways, so what difference does a little rain make. A bit different than my experience in Nepal, this time, we were equipped with a full body wetsuit, and the water was still absolutely freezing. But, honestly once we hit that first rapid with the two meter drop, the cold weather was quickly forgotten until we hit the flat part of the river. For the girls and I, it was our second time doing such an excursion, as for Ed it was his first. All is all, I think we did a good job, and I think the instructors thought we were a bit crazy to request the trip that day, as I am sure they expected to have the day off.

In the evening, along with a couple more hostel mates, we headed back out in the rain and the cold, to the thermals of Pucon. This particular thermal included various pools of varying temperatures, and it is recommended that you switch between the cold and hot. But as it was frickin’ cold outside, I stayed in the warmest pool the whole time, and if you ask me, the pool could have been a lot hotter.

The next morning we awoke to screaming winds and heavy rain, leaving no doubt that a hike to the volcano was not in the cards. At this point, for me to even walk outside, I had to seriously put on all my articles of clothing that can be remotely associated to winter clothes, my: sole pair of jeans and longer length socks, my only long sleeve shirt, and my zipper hoody that I bought for the trip to Everest Base Camp, and the track jacket I recently purchased in Buenos Aires. Even, after all that, I would still be cold. One, I am a weakling when it comes to cold, as I am a true Southern Californian, and two: I am suppose to be Skipping Winter!!!

During our last day in Pucon, literally the whole hostel was just about held hostage in the hostel, as the winds and rains continued throughout the day. Leaving another city, without even the opportunity to see the volcano from the town, we headed for the capital city of Santiago. The bus pulled into the terminal bright and early, to what else, cloud covered skies, with the eminent promise of rains. But at least for now, the temperature was tolerable with just a sweatshirt. The first day, we did a tourist circuit around the capital city, with stops at the major landmarks, led by Lorriane with her Lonely Planet in hand. The second day, I picked a couple of landmarks that I wanted to visit, and Lorraine and Orla added theirs, as we headed out for another day of sightseeing. Luckily, we just about completed our itinerary, when the rains and cold weather, again, paid us a visit. Can someone please tell the weather gods, that I am suppose to be: Skipping Winter!!!

The next morning, 21 of May, we headed out to the colonial town of Valpariso. This day is significant as it commemorated the day known as Glorias Navales, in honor of the Battle of Iquique on May 21, 1879, during the War of the Pacific, in which Chile defeated Peru in their fight for the border between the two countries. Throughout Chile and Argentina, you will usually find the name of streets and/or plaza named after significant dates in history. And as this was one of the more significant dates in the Naval history of Chile, and as Valpariso is home to many Chilean governmental offices as well as it’s Navy, the city hosted a parade, representing various branches and segments of it’s military. That afternoon, was also significant to many Europeans and futbol fans, as the European Futbol Championship was being played in Moscow, between Manchester United and Chelsea. Orla, Lorriane and Ed, decided that they wanted to watch the match, before completing the sightseeing. So after watching the first half with them, I decided to continue sightseeing, in the hopes of seeing as much as possible, before the sun set for the day. I took the oldest ascensor up the hill, to appreciate the terrain and Valpariso’s charming colonial architecture along with it’s varied pastel colors. Next, I took another ascensor back down the hill, to visit one of it’s most famous square in front of the Naval building, and in between the eternal flame monument, made even more special on this date, as it was dedicated to memorialize the events of this specific date in history. My sightseeing, was completed with a visit to one of the oldest church in this historic seaport town.

As, I started to walk back towards the other side of town, headed back for the bus station, just around sunset, I elected to walk a different street, in hopes of seeing something different. That’s when, I realized that I was one of the only persons walking down the street, and again my spidey senses went off. Being stupid, I stopped in the middle of the block to look at a couple of the unique building, took a picture of two, and looked at my map. Just as I was putting my camera away, a guy walked past me and guess what happened. Spat, I was hit on the back of my head, with another dose of “bird droppings.” I looked at the guy passing me, and he continued to walk away, I looked up, but knew that something was up, and identified the droppings to be more like yogurt, than any bird matter. That’s when a guy from across the street, pointed at the sky and motioned that it was a bird. Having experienced this once before, I was fed up, tired of being targeted as a stupid gringo, and trying to be taken advantage of, I started to yell at him. He motioned again at the sky, and pulled out napkins from his pocket. I screamed at him: No, no, no, I know it’s not a bird, and I proceeded to throw in some expletives. I than, proceeded to give him the bird, and continued to cuss at him. I seriously wanted to throw a rock at him, as I had finally reached my boiling point. He kept pointing to the sky, and I kept on showing him my bird, and that is when he yelled back: F you, too. Which actually made me feel better, that I had actually labeled him correctly as some bum that was trying to rob me. I had sized him up, and knew for a fact that I could outrun him, so I continued to yell at him, to stop trying to take advantage of people, and of course added in some choice words. As I did this, I saw the guy who threw the yogurt on me, who pretended to be preoccupied down an alley, he looked over as I past, and I of course showed him the bird as well. The guy who answered back, was not happy that I figured out his scheme and the commotion that I was making so he started to pick up his pace to approach me, I than gave him one last finger, told him to f’ off and hopped on a bus that was passing me. I know that I lost my cool, and I could have made a bad situation worse, but for someone to try that on such a special day, it really annoyed me. To show you that, the incident was the exception and not the rule: I hopped on the passing bus, more out of necessity than desire for it’s destination. The conductor, clearly knowing that I was a tourist, asked where I wanted to go. I told him, it didn’t matter but if it was in the vicinity of the bus terminal, drop me anywhere close. He proceeded to talk to the bus driver, and the two of them proceeded to look after me, by telling me when it was time to get off, and exactly which streets to walk down and turn on.

The next morning, I bid a farewell to Orla and Lorraine, as they headed north in Chile, while I yearned for one more trip through Argentina, but this time through the northern provinces.

 

Back on the Road

So, I am suppose to be skipping winter, than what the heck was I doing heading south toward the Patagonia region?

Having missed my window to visit the Perito Moreno Glacier near El Calafate and the southern most city in the world of Ushuaia, I just about wiped out all plans of heading south, as winter was quickly around the corner, and as my English friends would say: it’s bloody cold. But, my buddies, Orla and Lorraine, were headed for Bariloche, and what better way to ease myself for life back on the road, than to travel with a couple of friends. (Zoe the third member of the dynamic trio, had left for Australia a few weeks ago, and is now back into the working world).

After a 22 hour trip, I arrived in the province of Rio Negro, the region known as Northern Patagonia, specifically The Lakes District, more specifically: Bariloche, known as the Switzerland of Argentina. Throughout much of Argentina, there are large immigrant populations, mostly from Italy and Germany, but in this city, they were originally from Switzerland. As a result the area is known for it’s Swiss log cabin style architecture and of course chocolate, and for those true hardcore tourists, there are picture opportunities for a photo with a couple of St Bernards.

After hopping on a local bus, finding my hostel, and checking in, I sat alone in my dorm room for a minute, soaking it all in: I was actually, back on the road. Less than two minutes later, Eva and Ed walked in, introduced themselves, dropped their bags and invited me to join them in the search for food. We walked towards the main square of the city, not more than two blocks from our hostel, and that is when I met my future business partner, we’ll call him: MacDiego. He had a line about fifteen (all locales), as he cooked over the grill, serving from a small menu with only three items: Chorizopan (sausage sandwich), Hamburguesa and Churrascopan (steak sandwich). At first glance, many would be put off my the cleanliness, or lack thereof, of the environment and operation, but after one whiff of the aroma, you would quickly change your mind, and after one bite, you are hooked. That afternoon, I had two Churrascopans, and during my stay in Bariloche, I probably had about half a dozen. Simply a must, if you are ever in the neighborhood, if I could ever convince him to stay open on Sundays and Mondays, we could seriously go global.

As Orla and Lorraine, were not due in till the following morning, I chilled most of the afternoon, and saved the sight seeing for when they got into town. That night, Eva, Ed and I grabbed dinner, stopped by a pub, and ended the night at a garage party hosted by a hostel. The live band, played some reggae cover tunes, and some original songs in Spanish, with some scattered English. Overall, their performance was good and interesting, as the singer was hip hopped out, from the cap, to the XXXL sweatshirt and the super baggy jeans.

Early the next morning, my buddies showed up at the hostel, bright and early. After they had a chance to settle in, and we had a chance to catch up, our new bigger group, along with Eva, Ed, David and Steve, headed out to view the area and lake, from the top of the hill. First we grabbed a bus, from the square to kilometer marker 17.4, to the aerosilla (air-chair) station, where a ski lift takes you up and back. At the top, we grabbed a bite at the cafe, and tried to take in the view, as it was a hazy day. The rest of the afternoon was spent, roaming through town, in search of THE best chocolate in town. We popped in a couple of stores, sampled the free bites, and evaluated if it was good enough to purchase. The search eventually led to the second most touristy looking shop in town. The first would go to the chocolate supermart, where the name say it all: Del Turista. The Mamuscuhka chocolate shop, topped off with rotating versions of the Russian nesting dolls over the door, was claimed to be the best chocolate in town, by many of the locales and foreigners, and it did not disappoint. But, seriously, do they have to put dulce de leche in everything? So there you have it, the best place to get a meat sandwich and chocolate in town, for ice cream, you can go to: Jauja. Watch out Elmer Dills, here I come!

After dinner at Alberto’s pasta, where the girls claimed the lasagna to be one of the best they ever had(to the point that we ended up there three times), we hit the bar and club. First we went to Willkenny’s, an Irish pub, which was packed with locales, mixed in with a few gringos, as it was the off season, where they played what else, but 80s music. One of the things, that I love about my Irish Sisters, is their love of singing at the top of their lungs, regardless of who was around. Now, this time along with Ed, David, and Steve, we all sang at the top of our lungs, when a familiar tune was played, to the point that the neighboring tables, watched in amazement, or fright, take your pick. Next, we moved the party to Club Roxvury, not to be confused with Roxbury, and we danced to more 80s music, as Steve stayed mesmerized to the go-go girls being shown on the big screen.

That night, I met my locale friend, Maria, who would show me around the area the following days, and explain some of the locale culture/customs of the area. One of the most interesting things, that I learned, was that unlike Buenos Aires, the different areas were not Barrios with names, instead they were referenced based on the kilometer marker. For example, you would say that you lived around the 7km marker, or take the bus to the 12km marker. Maria, a bright girl, spoke English perfectly, as she spent a year during High School in the States, specifically the south. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but when she told me that she worked as a cashier at an appliance store in town, I was puzzled, as she was clearly a bright, out-going and I assumed, a hard working person. As, I got to talk to her more, I found out, that she had been in medical school for college, but when the financial crises of 2001 hit, her and her family could no longer afford for her to continue college. That is when, beyond all the great food, the fabulous architecture, and the trendy bars and restaurants, I was brought back to the realization that I was still in a developing country. Have I mentioned recently, how lucky I am, for the opportunities that I have had? But, like many others that I have met, Maria, is not one to dwell on what could have been, rather she works hard at her job, and is one of the few Argentine that I have met, at such an early age, to own her own car, and even a house, which was previously purchased by her mother with government assistance.

The following day, the hostel gang, decided to rent bikes, and complete the Circuito Chico, around the lake, a 24k bike ride. We hopped on the bus to the 18km marker, and rented fully equipped mountain bikes for the day. Over the course of the next four to five hours, we rode: up, down and around, the hills and the lake, taking plenty of stops, to appreciate the views, and of course for a breather here and there. Towards the end of the trip, when we hit the top of the highest hill, which was also home to the best view along the whole route, David delivered one of the funniest lines. Steve, 21, who was hands down the best mountain biker of the group, decided he wanted to test his wits, and rode back down so that he could climb that particular hill one last time. When David, found that out, he just about collapsed, and said: yeah, he should do that when he can, wait till he gets to my age. Now, David is only 23 years old!!! As we flew down the hill, Steve and I raced in front, and tried to complete the remaining course without the use of any brakes. Out in front, I approached a tight turn, slammed on my brakes, and yelled out, behind: tight turn!!! I was able to clear it, scrapping the edge of the road, and continued on. Steve and I stopped at the confluence with the main road, and waited for the rest to catch up. After a few minutes, we decided to ride back to the shop, and wait there. About ten minutes later, the gang showed up, with David slightly banged up, as he crashed back at that tight turn. Luckily, it was just some minor scraps, and he was back to his joking self, minutes if not seconds later.

The rest of our time in Bariloche was spent hanging out in town and the hostel. We even went ice skating one afternoon, little did I know that would be foretelling of things to come…

 

 

Entonces…

Possibly one of the most commonly heard word in casual conversation in Argentina is: “entonces,” in English, meaning: so, then or therefore. Now more than two weeks removed from Buenos Aires, I realize that I have a bit of house cleaning to do, as I have forgotten to write about my mini getaways while, I was at my home away from home. Entonces…

Rosario, known as the official birthplace of Argentina’s most famous son (Ernesto) Che Guevera (arguably the most famous, as Diego Maradona may also own that bragging right), is located a short 4 hour bus ride northwest of Buenos Aires. However, many of the interstates were closed due to the uncontained fires burning outside the capital city, “entonces” the trip took six.

Belinda, Tara, Ian and I arrived in Rosario just before nightfall, and caught a taxi to our hostel. After checking in and washing up, we went in search of dinner. Argentina is notorious for it’s late meals, dinner generally takes place after 10 pm, especially on weekends. As it was Friday, we were shocked to find many of the parrillas around the hostel closed for the night, and had to settle for a sidewalk cafe. That is when I got re-initiated to life on the road, and one of the biggest frustrations: the never ending search for a good food, and the inevitable wasted/lost meal. By, now you probably think that I have become obsessed with food, as that has become one of the main topics of this blog, but after traveling for so long, and sampling many things that have not sat well, I have come to appreciate the times, that you do find something good, and am not shy about having it everyday. The truth is, it may be days or weeks until you find something else nice, “entonces” eat it while you can.

On the flipside, I have also accepted a rule, an expectation of sorts: when you are on the road, you must expect to waste about two meals a week, hopefully only one of which is a dinner. The wasted/lost meal is, when you order something and it doesn’t look or taste like anything that you expected, it is when you have to accept the fact that the picture on the menu was probably taken by the same photographer who took the picture of your last internet date. It’s hard to imagine, messing up a hamburger, but when a piece of ham with two pieces of bread land on your table, you have to just laugh, as that is literally a ham-burger. But, I digress. Entonces…

After, Belinda and Tara’s wasted meal, we returned back to the hostel, where the girls elected to turn in for the night, and Ian and I decided to see what the night life in Rosario, is like. “Entonces” the two of us headed out and ended up at an English Bar, full of trendy locales, where the only thing English was the name of the bar, some of the beers, and Ian. At the pub, we met up with Pablo (who Ian met back in Brazil) and a couple of his friends. It was because of Ian’s connection with a locale, who offered to show us around, that we made the trip to Rosario. I joined Belinda, Tara and Ian, somewhat last minute, as they had planned the trip and invited me to join, so that I could finally get out of Buenos Aires, even if it was only temporary.

The next day, the four of us were picked up by Pablo and Hugo, for a tour of the city. First we walked to the Flag (Bandera) Memorial, built in honour of Belgrano, who was a military hero and also the designer of the much beloved Argentina flag, which happens to be one of my favorite flags, of all the countries I have visited so far. After, walking and taking the elevator to the top and back down, we walked along the river, through a park, and dined for lunch, with the tour concluding at a small art fair. The four of us, than decided to walk the long haul back to the hostel, so that Tara, could hope to find a few boutique shops, where she could do some shopping. In the evening Pablo and Hugo, along with their girlfriends, picked us up for dinner at a nice restaurant along the river. After, a really nice steak dinner with sides, the bill came, and get this, the bill for each person was less than 50 pesos ($16 USD). “Entonces” I love Argentina, not just Buenos Aires. The night ended with a quick visit to a club, which of course featured 80s music, at one of it’s dance floors.

In the morning, with the threat of the interstate between Rosario and Buenos Aires being closed off by the spreading fires, “entonces” we took the early bus back home. Unfortunately, we had to wish a bon voyage to Belinda, who was now headed north, back on the road to see the rest of South America. Between seeing Belinda again, and seeing Maddie and Katy back in Thailand after first meeting them on the Russia trip, you really realize how small the world has become, and that it is now realistically possible to have friends around the world.

Back at the apartment, the next day, I received word from my Irish sisters, Orla and Lorraine that they were now in Colonia, Uruguay, only a short one hour boat ride away. “Entonces” I packed my day pack and hopped in a taxi for the dock at Puerto Madero. Within two hours from getting word from them, I was now in Colonia, the owner of yet another stamp, in my passport. The rest of the afternoon, Orla and Lorraine offered their services as my official tour guide, as they had already walked through Colonia, and the area was small enough that they had already seen most of the touristy things/places.

I only have one advice, when you go up the lighthouse tower, in Colonia: Watch you Head!!! They even tell you this, as you walk up the stairs, but you think they are talking about at the top. As you arrive to the deck just before the top, there is a door with a window above it, for the a viewing deck. I must have arrived just at the right time, as the sun, was directly in my eyes, and blinded me to the point, that I did not notice the sill/beam between the top of the door and bottom of the window. “Entonces”: Bam!!! I slammed right into the beam, with the top of my forehead, to the point that I had to actually kneel down so that I didn’t fall back into the stairwell. After getting my sense of direction back, I went to the top deck, watched my head, and finished off the rest of the tour with a bump and a small cut. Of course, the day was completed, like all the other places with a body of water, with a sunset.

The next morning, I hopped on an early bus for the capital city of Montevideo, as the girls headed for Buenos Aires. Montevideo is one of the most controversial city amongst the backpackers in Buenos Aires, along with Paraguay: to go or not to go? The argument to both, is that you are so close, “entonces” you should check it out, but after everyone goes, they all say the same thing, there is nothing much to see or do, and it was more of a checklist item than anything unique. As I am a true lemming, “entonces” I went and am happy to report, much the same.

You well note by now, that I have yet to make it to Paraguay, and still have no current plans to go, just to get a stamp in the passport. Paraguay is known for Ciudad del Estes (City of Lights), the electronic swapmeet for Brazilians; Itaipu Dam, world’s largest, until the completion of Three Gorges Dam; and Asuncion, it’s capital city. United States citizens are required to obtain a visa, even just to visit the dam for half a day. And as I was not the least bit interested in visiting the swapmeet of lights, “entonces” I skipped Paraguay, at least for now.

One more bit of house cleaning, I just wanted to introduce you to my great ex-roommates. Entonces…

Alejandro, is the main stay of the apartment. Although I never point blanked asked, what I gathered, is that his family owns the apartment, and he has stayed there the last two years, managing the vacancies and the maintenance of the apartment, while he is still going to school. Just under 30 years of age, he has lived in Buenos Aires, all his life. His ancestors, are originally from Germany, so not only does he speak Spanish/Castenello and English, but he also speaks German. A River Plate fan, it was probably a good thing, that I was out of the apartment after the Super Classico, especially considering that I was rooting for Boca.

Christina, 22, is study abroad, here on an exchange program through her university. Her Spanish, is easily better than my Chinese, as she is taking all her courses, including economics, in the locale language. I am constantly amazed by the number of languages, that many of the other travelers speak. Along with her native language of German, she also speaks: English and French. One thing that I most admired about her, is something that she has, that I didn’t have at her age. She thinks more globally about her future. She doesn’t know where she will be in five or ten years, but she expects to get her education and experience all over the world. I couldn’t even pull the trigger on an exchange program on the East Coast, when I was in school, and here she is, in a different country, on a different continent.

Than there is Stella, 25, also from Germany, my chocolate, corn flake, ice cream loving buddy (not all at the same time, but it probably would taste pretty good, mixed in with some bananas). In Buenos Aires, for a total period of three and a half month, she is on a internship program, where the German government helps subsidize her, while she works at a locale law firm. Having never taken any formal Spanish classes, prior to coming here, I am in awe of her ability to absorb, and her desire and dedication to learn the locale language. During my stay at the apartment, we both had been taking Spanish for approximately the same number of weeks, not counting the Spanish classes I took many many years ago, and I have no hesitation in admitting the fact that her Spanish kicked my ass!

Entonces, I will miss you buddies.

 

Knockout Day

Much like a championship fight, the date was marked, and heavily anticipated. The date: May 4th. Because of this date, I moved back into a hostel, when my lease ran out, instead of hitting the road. Namely, because of two reasons: one, just a few weeks prior, it was finally confirmed that the futbol/soccer team Boca Junior would face off against River Plate in the game known as the Super Classico. Having not attended a futbol match to-date, I had said that if the Super Classico was happening anytime close to my stay in Buenos Aires, I was going to attend, period! And two, a friend, a previous co-worker, Ricardo was coming to Argentina with his wife, brother, sister-in-law and parents, to visit family, attend a wedding, and sightseeing up and down the country. During our e-mail exchange, to coordinate a time and place to meet, he casually invited me to attend his cousin’s wedding along with his family, to which, I responded: Heck, yes!

During the preceding weeks, I put the word out to many friends, I met throughout the city, that: I wanted, I needed, I had to get a ticket to the match. With less than a week before the Classico, it was almost assured that I had at least one if not two tickets in hand. My previous roommate, a River Plate fan, said he had connections, and he was sure that he could get tickets. Than another fellow lemming, said that she had a connection, somebody who knew somebody, from the Boca camp that could also get tickets. With less than a couple days left, and my ex-roommate yet to deliver, I put more energy on the other ticket source, and she assured me that it was very feasible, and since I wanted to sit on the Boca side, I stop pushing for the River tickets. Than the day before the match, I received a text message saying that they were on their way to pick up the Boca tickets, and that I could pick it up, later that same day. Just a few hours later, my ex-roommate contacted me, telling me that his contact came through, and wanted to know how many tickets I wanted. Since it was, almost guaranteed that I was getting the Boca tickets, I thanked him and passed on the River tickets. Later that night, I get the dreaded text, telling me that the Boca tickets were counterfeit, but luckily they noticed before they paid, and now group I was going with, was going to watch the match at a bar. And, of course, it was too late to contact my ex-roommate, as he already got his tickets.

Than there was the question, of what I would wear to the wedding, as there was no article of clothing, not even a pair of socks that would be appropriate, for such an event. I received confirmation, that it was okay for me to semi-crash the wedding reception, just two days before the ceremony. The plan was to find a suit rental place, and call it good. But, when I finally found a suit rental shop, they wanted 650 pesos for a day´s rental, steep even by western standards. Walking up and down the 2500 block of Correintas, I was able to find some other suit rental shops charging 200 pesos without shoes, but they were suits that I seriously would not be caught dead in. This caused quite the predicament, but luckily my roommate Stella, offered to accompany me to view the suits and give me a second opinion. When I initially described the situation, she told me that I was being too picky, and it was only for one day, so I should just rent the cheap suit, and be done with it. When she arrived at the shop, she took one look, and nodded no, and it was off to the back up plan. For the next few hours, we walked up and down the blocks of Corrientas and Florida, and by night fall, I was the proud new owner of attire fit for a wedding or a business meeting, minus the jacket, from tie to socks, and even a new belt.

May 4th. Starting at the stroke of midnight, the first half of the day, was rough, and it was clear that I lost most of those early rounds. The day, started with the first of many emotional goodbyes. Having made connections with many people, during my stay in Buenos Aires, unlike anywhere else on my trip, it was strange/tough to say goodbye to some of those you connected with, but couldn’t end it with, saying: see you later.

Early in the morning, I met up with Ricardo and his family. That part of the morning was great, as it was good to see a familiar face, and hear stories from home. His family welcomed me with open arms, and were intrigued by the path of my travels. But, his dad was most envious, as he heard from Ricardo that I had tickets for the Classico, later that day. He told me that the Classico was it, the pinnacle of matches, and if he was me, he would forget about the wedding, as it was an easy choice to make. At this point, I was unsure if I had been uninvited to the wedding, and didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was now without tickets. So, I told them, that I would love to do both, and that my ticket may be falling through, so I still wanted to get the address and time of the wedding. To which, they responded, that I was welcomed to wedding, but to come as late as I needed to, as the game would be something I would remember for a long time.

As I left them, headed back to my hostel, I put the backup plans into effect, a call to the hostel for ticket brokers, no luck; searched the internet classified ads, no luck; walked the streets, looking for something random, no luck.  When, I got back to the hostel, the place was empty, everybody had either went to the game or a bar to watch the match. I sat there soaking for about five minutes, when a guy walked in and asked what I was doing for the game, and I responded: I am going to stadium, want to go?

The two of us, hopped in a taxi, and got dropped off at the parking lot of the stadium. For the next two hours we walked around the stadium trying to look like gringos, so that the ticket scalpers would approach us. One after another they approached with tickets of varying counterfeit quality, some made valiant attempts to look real, while others looked obviously fake. The asking price varied from 150 pesos to 700 pesos. The problem was that we had no idea what the real tickets looked like, and was told that they varied in color and design based on the locations of your seat. Eventually, I devised a plan to hangout at one of the entrances, identify a gringo and ask to see his/her tickets. Of course this was met, with weird stares, as if I was some crazy thief, ready to rob them. Finally I met a locale couple who were escorting some of their gringo friends into the stadium. Their friends ignored my request, but after they entered, the couple described their tickets to me, including the colors, and to look for a hologram, along with a specific logo. About ready to give up, we just stood around, content to do a little people watching. That is when I ran into four English guys, who spoke almost no Spanish and looked lost as they were trying to speak to a guy regarding tickets. I asked them what was going on, and they explained that they think the guy is offering some tickets, so I started to ask the guy to see the tickets, how much, and how many had. At this point there were six of us, and he said that he could get us all in and more. A bit skeptical, I said let me see the tickets, and he responded that he didn’t have tickets, but had connections at the gate, and that we didn’t have to pay until we were physically inside. Of course this peaked our interest and we waited for him to explain how. That’s when the police escorted the team buses of each team right pass us. The team bus for Boca Juniors was first, and with the curtains wide open, the players looked out the windows and some waved at the cheering and howling fans below. When the River Plate bus passed by, it was as if someone was giving birth in the bus, as the police caravan and bus flew by, not slowing down the least bit, as the people booed and motioned as if to throw things at the bus. The curtains of the bus were drawn closed, and the bus would never even think to slow down if it hit anything or anybody, on it’s way to the stadium.

When the chaos of the bus passed, the fellow, pulled us into the corner market owned by his grandmother, and showed us five tickets, matching the rough description, that I had been told. But, now his story changed, as he asked for 300 pesos a piece, upfront. Additionally, our crowd had grown to ten, and he said that he needed time to get the additional tickets, and could not accompany us, until he procured the remaining tickets. Figuring that this was our last opportunity to get in, we choose to roll the dice, buy the tickets, and cross our fingers, that if they were fake, that they were good enough to get us in. Two of us, said that we would try first, and if we couldn’t get in, we would run back and try to save the others from throwing away their money. As waited in line to enter, we had to go through at least five check points, and at a couple of them, they examined my ticket closely, more than once. After 45 minutes, and circling at least a quarter of the stadium, I was at the turnstile, and the guy examined my ticket, front and back, and gave it a good rub to feel the paper stock, before ripping my ticket in half… and handing me half of it back, I was in!

Reminiscent of the Sambadrome, the energy inside the stadium was electric, putting the enthusiasm of the crowds, at sporting events, from home to shame. As I walked up the stairs in the tunnel, you could feel the ground, the walls, and the roof, literally vibrating. Flags of blue and yellow (Boca’s colors) were handed sporadically to the crowd. Mike and I each grabbed a flag, and as we re-entered daylight the vibration from the cheering/screaming crowd almost gave me goosebumps. As I waved my flag, I was directed by many to a particular part of the stadium, while many others pointed and screamed at me: “Chino!” (Chinese) and gave me a thumbs up signalling their approval. When I finally stopped at my place to watch the match, I ended up at the second level at the far end of the Boca Popular stands, home to some of the rowdiest fans in all of futbol. I had been previously warned of all the dangers that comes with sitting/standing in this part of the stadium. But, at least on this day, it couldn’t be further from the truth. As I was one of the only gringos around, and clearly standing out, the locales were excited by my presence, and constantly grabbed my hand or arm, and shook it with theirs high in the air, as they sang to the beating of the drums behind us. Over the course of the next couple hours, the dancing, singing and cheering was non-stop, almost regardless of what was happening on the field, other than the fact that eggs and small rolls of paper were handed out, for us to pelt at the goalie for River Plate. Beat after beat, song after song, the crowd chanted, sang and jumped in unison. Funny enough, when play stopped for halftime, the crowd in synchronized fashion, all stopped and sat down, as if to conserve their energy for the second half. In the end, Boca won the match, and when they scored during the first half, I was literally pushed along with everybody else, forward and down a few steps in a feeble attempt to get closer to the field, luckily for me, it was the only goal of the match, as I am not sure I could survive another hard push towards the wall, and not sure what would happen if River ever scored.

When the match ended, the River section was let out first, giving them time to escape. Next was the executive seat sections, followed by the other seated and enclosed section of the Boca fans. Finally, after an hour since the game had finished, the Boca Popular section was released into the streets to celebrate the victory, and bragging rights.

I quickly, returned back to the hostel, showered, changed, and put on my first tie, since almost a year ago. Next, I hopped in a cab to Retiro station for the Metire train, for the 25 minute ride to attend the wedding reception. Ricardo’s uncle Rual was kind enough to offer to pick me up at the train station, and when he showed up with a minivan full of people, I was shocked by their hospitality, as they saved me the front passenger seat, and he made his full grown sons, much taller than me, sit family dog style in the back trunk.

At the wedding reception, I sat with Ricardo, his wife, brother, sister-in-law, and a few of his cousins. When the father of the bride stopped by, to thank everybody for their attendance, he gave me an awkward stare, as to say who are you, and Ricardo immediately jumped up and explained who I was, and not some loony that was trying to mimic scenes from the Wedding Crashers. As the reception continued on, and I was introduce to various family members, I suddenly, according to Ricardo became a mini-celebrity. First, I was approached by a lady, who asked who I was, why I was here, and how long I was staying in Buenos Aires. Than she introduced me to her husband, and when he found out that I had just come from the Super Classico, and that I had pictures to show everybody, he literally, dragged me from table to table, to show the pictures off. Before he let me return to my table, his wife asked me if I was single, and when I said yes, he dragged me around and introduced me to many of the single girls at the reception. Feeling a bit awkward by the attention, especially since I was semi-crashing the wedding, I returned to the table, in an attempt to blend back in, when all of the sudden the MC rambled off a bunch of Spanish words, followed by the word: Chino, and the whole crowd turned to face me. At this point, I was talking with Ricardo, and we both noticed that now everybody was looking right at us. My buddy, the gentlemen that led me around, now came to my table, grabbed me by the hand, and led me straight to the center of the dance floor to speak with the MC. Ricardo’s mom, met me up there, to help translate, the questions the MC wanted to ask me. Turns out, he was joking around, and was picking people out of the crowd, and saying that they were movie stars. Of course, when he asked where I was from, and I replied United States, specifically Southern California, this played right into his hands. For the rest of the night, I would be remembered as Jackie Chan, strange but I remember when Bruce Lee was the most famous Asian movie star.

Not to be outdone, our table included another semi-celebrity, as my buddy Ricardo sang a self composed tune dedicated to the newlyweds. Shortly before I left, he had joined a garage band, which I jokingly teased him about. Now he is the lead singer of a more formal rock band, who has previously recorded tracks, and do regular gigs throughout Southern California.

As the night ended, and the family members gathered to take pictures to memorialize the night and occasion. I was deeply flattered and humbled, when some of the cousins started to yell at me, so that I would join their picture. Initially, I declined, as it was a family thing, but they responded that I was now part of the family, and the rest chanted in, so I hopped in. Thanks, Ricardo, Mr & Mrs Graf, and Uncle Rual, for letting me join your family, and for making this truly a Knockout day, and one that I will remember for the rest of my life.