Subte Blackout!

This morning Ken & I got up bright and early to start our first day of Spanish class. We'd signed up for classes daily from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., which meant waking up quite a lot earlier from our new norm of getting up when the lord wakes us, or when one of us flushes the toilet (which makes a very loud groaning noise not unlike a bagpipe). We found the subway ("subte" en español) and boarded at what I assume was the peak of rush hour. It was hot and packed. Having lived in NYC for almost 10 years, I'm no stranger to a full subway car. This morning, however, some combination of heat and crowd and low blood sugar led me to feel dizzy enough to tell Ken that we needed to get off at the next stop.

I started to collapse while we were still on the car and he noticed and immediately wrapped both arms around me so that I didn't fall, and when the train stopped I made it a few steps onto the platform before I went down. I came to with about six people standing over me, fanning me and holding my legs perpendicular to the ground. The were all super nice and besides feeling embarrassed about the whole thing, I felt very safe. Don't freak out, Mom, I'm fine. Really.

We postponed our trip to the Spanish School and joined an afternoon class from 1:30-5:30, which I suspect will be much more compatible with our current sleeping schedule!

Helados, Gatos, Y Un Conejo Blanco

After a late dinner last night at an excellent restaurant/wine bar, that, for appetizers, entrees, desserts, and wine, topped out at a whopping $35 per person (a splurge for those of us who are unemployed, but hopefully incentive for you people with jobs to visit!), I finally slept in this morning until after 10. We lounged around in our pajamas, drinking coffee and eating bread and cheese until around 2, when we finally ventured out to complete our previously-thwarted attempt to buy a SIM card.

On our outing we met a big albino bunny who lives in a Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. We named him Ferdinand. We then walked over to the Botanical Garden where porteños [locals] leave their unwanted house cats. I wanted to pet them all, and Ken wanted to hose me down before I came back into the apartment. We ate some delicious ice cream, and picked up a few bottles of cerveza which we're now enjoying while we kill time before dinner, which won't be until 9 or 10 p.m.

I also learned that neither of the 2 old cell phones I had are unlocked, but it turns out that quick phone calls to AT&T and T-Mobile yielded the requisite unlock codes, for free! Good times. So now we have a phone! We also have a landline and Skype, so we're all kinds of connected.

Pocket: PICK'D!!1!

While we were out this afternoon, my wallet and (small) camera were stolen from my purse. We were walking home along the busy Avenida Santa Fe, and when we stopped to buy SIM cards for our phones I realized that both my wallet and camera were missing.

Getting robbed or otherwise ripped off is pretty much my biggest fear when I'm traveling. I've been lucky in that it hasn't happened very often, given the amount of traveling I've done. I felt like a moron, because my purse isn't the most secure and I certainly wasn't carrying it as well as I could have to prevent such a thing. Despite a few moments of EXTREME frustration, I surprised myself by not freaking out (I didn't even cry!) and just spent about two hours canceling various credit cards (thank GOD for Skype!). It wasn't the most fun thing I could have imagined doing, but it also wasn't the worst thing ever. And since my cards won't be replaced until next week, Ken has to buy me dinner!


P.S. Suck it, Crime.

La Cucaracha

Setting: Last night, after a few beers, Ken & I are lounging on the bed, philosophizing. I look up at the loft and notice a large black bug flutter and settle on the railing.

G: There's a big bug up there.
K: Where?
G: Second railing. It's crawling up.
K: Oh. Oh, yeah. Oh god! It's big.
G: Yeah. Now it's on the top of the railing.
K: Oh god. I think it's getting bigger.
G: It's looking at us.
K: I can see its antennae. I can see its antennae moving from all the way over here.
G: Can you please go kill it?
K: I don't like it. Remember how I was calm about the other ones? I don't like that one.
G: Please? You're the boy.
K: Stupid penis.

Armed with a glass and a paper towel, he climbed the ladder to the loft.

K [looking at the gigantic bug]: We shall call it "El Grande."
G: Oh god, can you get it?
K: Oh. It's fast.
G: Please tell me you can get it.
K: I lost it.

Apparently El Grande figured out that he was being hunted and scurried off. This story does have a happy ending, as later on Ken trapped El Grande under a glass and released him into the night. Unfortunately he landed on the wall right next to our kitchen window. We closed the window and are hoping that El Jefe doesn't show up to avenge him.

Mis Tobillos Estan Hinchados

¡Hola desde Buenos Aires!

We arrived safely this morning after an uneventful 11-hour flight. It was the longest flight I'd been on; Ken has flown to Asia a few times so he's a pro. It turns out 11 hours on an overnight flight when you haven't slept for more than 5 hours in the two previous nights is cake. I was asleep before the plane took off, and aside from a brief period of being awake around midnight, I slept until about 2 hours before we landed.

Our apartment is in Palermo Soho, a neighbourhood laden with shops, restaurants, and bars. The apartment itself is super-sweet - it was describe as a studio but I think will be plenty of room for us and the occasional visitor. I noticed a couple of roaches when we first got here and christened them Wally and Eva. On our return from dinner this evening we found that Wally and Eva have a whole family who apparently live in our walls, and didn't scurry away quite quickly enough when we turned on the lights. We added roach traps and spray to our shopping list for tomorrow.

On our post-nap venture this evening we found the local supermarket (at which we purchased the requisite jar of dulce de leche) and a gym that's quite reasonably priced at around $35/month.

Tomorrow afternoon I have an interview with the school at which I'm hoping to take a certificate course so that I can teach English at some point, and tomorrow night we have our first social engagement! Friends of ours from San Francisco are here on vacation and we're meeting them for dinner. Porteños [locals] eat late, so we're meeting them at 9 or 10.

Both of us are kind of stunned, like, holy crap, we live in Buenos Aires.

Things That Can Suck It

1. Justice: I just spent an hour at the Brooklyn Borough Traffic Whatnot to contest a parking ticket I got the day we left for Canada. It was Sunday afternoon and we'd parked under a "no parking during street cleaning on Tues/Thurs/Fri" sign. What I didn't see was the sign at the end of the effing block that indicated that the whole block was for commuter vehicles only, all days and all times. The judge didn't buy my reasoning ("So, that street-cleaning sign only applies to the commuter vehicles?" "No, it applies to everyone." "But only commuter vehicles can ever park there, so really, it's only for them, right?" "Just pay the ticket."). Suck it, Justice.

2. National Grid (formerly known as KeySpan): Earlier this year they sent us a bunch of notices saying they were going to shut off our service. When I called about those, they were all, "Oopsie! We forgot to send you a bill, here's one for $400." Apparently they haven't sent us a bill since then because our final bill is for $500. Suck it, National Grid.

3. AT&T: I just called AT&T to invoke the "I'm leaving the country" clause that should waive the $175 early termination fee. Great, no problem! I just have to send them a utility bill or a bill from a new cell phone carrier with my new address on it. THOSE ARE THE ONLY TWO OPTIONS. Oh, and I can't fax it, because they only have a toll-free fax number that won't work outside of the U.S. Suck it, AT&T.

T-Minus 14 Hours

Our flight leaves tonight at 10. Our stuff is in a state of loosely controlled chaos. The only thing I can't find is the bra without underwire that I bought specifically for traveling. It's plaguing my mind, of course.

Guest Blogger: Memphis

This afternoon I received an email update from SunnyMemphis.
NB: This is Sunny's third time sending email, ever. She is 77.

from Sunny
to Gillian
date Sun, Mar 15, 2009 at 1:02 PM
subject memphisupdate

ivetried to get the old woman to do this but she just gets that glassyeyed look as if to say '' a computer oh my no t me.....i ain't doin' that... soooo i guess i'll just have to play little red hen..this isn't such a ba place---just lonesome without you. The old woman talks to me ,feeds me on time, cleans my litter box, brushes me daily but IT'S THOSE CONFOUNDED OTHER FOUR LEGGEDS. The other day they went downstairs for their before bed treat. SO I went down and sat on the steps.When they tried to come upstairs I gave them my best hissy hiaay.They both backed off and I smiled happily. They both went into the bathroom with the old woman.Then Duke came out and started up the stairs----I hissed and hissed---H just totally ignored me and breezed on by.So much for hissing--he's a saucy brat. So Ill keep you up to date. Miss you both and love you Memphis.

Update on Gillian's Failing Health

Turns out the cleanse was not the cause of my malaise this week.

Turns out it's another kidney infection.

Yay!

On the plus side:

- I paid for extended health insurance this month and actually used it, which makes me feel virtuous (or something)
- I won't be toting a defective kidney to South America
- I am incapable of lifting our heavy boxes labeled "Sort in March" out of storage [minus for Ken]
- Given my recent experience I was able to maintain some dignity (I only cried a couple of times today [minus for Ken])

This is like pre-South America "Land of Milk and Honey" purgatory.

Don't Try This At Home

Reader Discretion Advised: This post contains information about bowel movements. You've been warned.

Still with me? GREAT! If you've been following along at home, you know that last Sunday (and Monday, for that matter) involved a little roadtrip and an introduction to a certain feline to two barky canines. It marked the first days of a year of unemployment and followed much celebration. After a fun week in Waterloo (during which not one, not two, but THREE entire pans of Rice Krispy Squares were consumed), on Saturday I found myself in a health food store. I was just looking for almond milk, but a 7-day herbal cleanse (for the low low price of $19.95 Cdn!) caught my eye. I flipped through the accompanying recommended meal plan and it looked pretty comparable to my regular menu, so I decided to give it a go.

The "kit" contained 2 different herbal pills: one a colon cleanse, to be taken twice daily before breakfast and dinner, and the other a "multi-system cleanse" to be taken twice daily WITH breakfast and dinner. The ingredients lists were quite long and all-natural and honestly, I was skeptical as to the efficacy of something like this, but I was thinking, new beginnings, detoxing, Spring, etc. OK, I was also thinking, wouldn't it be great to lose 5lbs before we get to Buenos Aires?

I started the regime on Saturday morning, and all was well until I woke up Monday feeling a little under the weather. I'm going to be honest with you here: On Monday morning, I pooped three times. Before breakfast. I'd had plans to meet various people in the morning, one of which I cancelled and the other of which was blessedly cancelled. I managed to get myself showered in time for a lunch date, only to have that cancelled as well. At least I was clean, because I promptly went home, curled up under a blanket on the couch, and, much to the chagrin of the people who are used to see me Tiggering around Waterloo, slept for the entire afternoon. Like, for six hours, through ringing phones and barking dogs and a hissing cat. I woke up for dinner, ate a piece of chicken and a few grains of rice, then went back to the couch, at which point I decided to immediately retox because cleansing? Totally not worth it, and I don't care how great I was supposed to feel by day 5.

I can only hope that tango will have all the benefits without the discomfort. And the pooping.

A Supposedly Fun Thing

Last Sunday, following two nights of no-holds-barred alcohol consumption that included Ken and our friend Aaron consuming a 1.5L bottle of White Zinfandel (...for real), we managed to clean out the remaining piles of crap from our apartment and load a bike, several boxes full of the aforementioned crap, an angry cat (complete with litter box!) and two tired, hungover people into a rented Chevy Impala for a roadtrip to Canada.

We (read: I) had originally set a goal for 8 a.m. departure because the drive is 10 hours and our unemployed selves can't afford a fancy motel. However, after another trip to storage, a stop at IHOP to stave off our collective increasingly low blood sugar, and various drop-offs in Brooklyn, we finally hit the road at 5:30 p.m., if by "hit the road" you mean "sat in standstill traffic waiting to enter the Holland Tunnel". At first I was optimistic: As we finally settled into a comfortable speed on the interstate, I suggested that maybe we could drive straight through.

About an hour later we were both done, and we spent the night in a Super 8 Motel in Binghamton. The Super 8 Motel very responsibly keeps the heat off in unused rooms. Given that the outside temperature was around 3F (-16C) and we could see our breath in the room, we cranked the heat. Before we turned in Ken lowered the heat so we wouldn't sweat ourselves out of the room in the middle of the night, but apparently it wasn't quite low enough because at 3 a.m. I had to get up to throw water on the rocks.

During the drive Monday Memphis was calm enough to ride on my lap. The side effect of her being uncontained was a lot of cat hair in the car. Everywhere. By the time we crossed into Canada my left eye was swollen shut and I could only hope that the border guard wouldn't refuse me entry because of suspected pinkeye or because he thought I was a pirate.

We finally arrived in Waterloo about 3 p.m. on Monday. Memphis has been... well, she's been a total bitch since we got here. I get that she isn't thrilled about the dogs (who, incidentally, are about half her size) but enough with the leaky tire routine! I'm sure she'll adjust, and her M.O. this week of waking us up at 5 every morning has made it just a little easier to bid her adios for the year.

Up next: Ken learns Canadian! We kiss babies! Dinner at Swiss Chalet!

Internet > Packing

As the history books will show us, more packing means more blogging! [Ref: August 2007, February 2008.]

There's a lot more purging happening this time around, and in the process I've unearthed some choice bits, like this mixtape outline I made circa 1997:


ANGST MUCH?

Speaking of mixtapes, I also found one that Dos made for me around the same time, for my Route 66 roadtrip. It contains such classics as "Barbie Girl" by Aqua ("come on Barbie let's go party") and "Bandito" by The Refreshments ("Everybody knows/ that the world is full of stupid people") and is appropriately entitled, "Super Funky Driving Tape."

Eat A Cookie

Eating a cookie is my response to all dilemmas this week. For example:

Dilemma! What should I do with my GameCube that hasn't been played since 2003?
Answer: Eat a cookie!

Dilemma! Someone offered me $20 more for a bookcase I'd listed on Craigslist AFTER I promised it to someone else.
Answer: Eat a cookie!

Dilemma! The TEFL school I applied to in BsAs hasn't written me back.
Answer: Eat a cookie!

Dilemma! The cookie I'm eating isn't even that good, but I keep eating it.
Answer: Eat it anyway!

By the time we get to South America I'm going to weigh 400lbs.

Always On My Mind

There are a number of things that I've been thinking about way too much in the last few days.

1. The book Wife of the Chef by Courtney Febbroriello, which has lived up on my bookshelf beside myriad other chef-wannabe books including Michael Ruhlman's The Making of a Chef and The Soul of a Chef. Ruhlman's books are engaging and inspirational and I expect I'll read them again. Febbroriello's... not so much. And yet, YET, that book has lived on my bookshelf for years, as I tote it around from apartment to apartment because in my mind it has become part of the set. Last weekend I even packed it into a box of books to store, along with biographies of Julia Child and Jacques Pépin, because it "goes" with those books. Since then I keep thinking about it how it isn't that good and how I probably won't read it and why am I keeping it, again?

I'm putting it the donate pile.

2. My clothes. Do I really need that new sweater from the Gap? How much stuff should I bring to Argentina? Will I buy stuff there? What if I bring the wrong stuff and I don't look cool and as a result I don't make any friends and I just sit around our flat watching telenovelas and eating dulce de leche out of the jar?

Eff it, I'll keep the sweater.

Also on the subject of my wardrobe, after last week's careful curation we took a couple of boxes to Beacon's Closet this weekend in the hopes that we'd be able to get a few bucks for our castoffs. When we returned, we were informed that they couldn't buy ANY of our clothes because they fell into some grey area, which I suspect is somewhere between "good" and "Goodwill". Bitches.

3. Memphis, with whom I am so in love that I had her tiny face emblazoned on my new credit card: I'm going to miss that beast.

4. Oh my god in less than a month I'll be living in Argentina.

Yay! A Running Update!

For the first time since I started running in 2006, I'm training through the winter. Well, sort of. I've kept up running, even though I'm not training for anything in particular. I've mostly been running on the treadmill, including a fun interval workout that I've outlined below for your training pleasure. This morning I ran a 5k in Prospect Park. (Yes, a week before I leave this fair city New York Road Runners starts having races in Brooklyn. Bitches.) Anyway, it turns out that no matter how much you'd like to think your 5k pace is 8:30/mile when you're running on the treadmill, the great outdoors has a harsh reality for you. And that reality is hills, and also temperatures in the 30s plus wind chill.

I averaged 9:33/mile this morning to finish in 29:37. I was feeling OK about it, too, until my friend Kerner, who had also run this morning, texted me to see how I'd done. He then told me that he "might have won [his] age group" - which of course prompted me to look up his finish time and HOLY SHIT - the dude ran 5:32 miles!

He finished in 11th place. I finished at 2711.

Here's that interval workout I mentioned (from the March issue of Runner's World.

Run intervals of decreasing length, from 7 down to 1 minute. Run the first interval at your marathon pace and work your way up to your 5k pace. Recover at an easy jog between each interval for half the length of the previous interval. For me, this means starting at 10:30/mile for 7 minutes, and increasing my speed by 20 seconds per mile until I hit 8:30 for the 1 minute interval. The whole workout takes 42 minutes plus cooldown, and it has kicked my ass every time I've done it!

But maybe you should ask Kerner what he's doing, because apparently it's working.

99 Boxes of Clothes on the Floor

Tonight Brianna came over to help me sort clothes.

s/help/drink wine and watch/g

OK, that isn't entirely true -- she was also tasked with taking a hard line on any item of clothing on which I was wavering. Our mission was to end up with 4 piles: Keep and take, keep and store, donate, sell*. Guys, I have a lot of clothes, especially considering that I've moved 3 times in the past 2 years and each time I've taken bags - plural! - to Goodwill. Based on the size of the piles we built, I only wear about 1/4 of the clothes I own. And based on the items in the donate and sell piles, I should never, ever buy anything from the J.Crew Final Sale.

Counts so far: 2 boxes to take to Beacon's Closet (to sell, hopefully), 3 boxes and a bag for Goodwill, and 1 box each to take and store.

*Beacon's Closet prices your items and gives you either 35% of their asking price in cash, or 55% as store credit. Some of this stuff is brand new (with tags still on it - I KNOW, don't judge me) so I'm hoping to get a little something for it.

Leaving New York, Never Easy

Since I moved to New York nine years ago, I've traveled countless times, visiting cities as near as Boston and as far away as Nairobi. And even though I've considered moving away, every time I left NY I knew I'd return, because I had a home here.

Until now.

Next month, Ken and I are moving to South America. We plan to make Buenos Aires our home for the better part of a year; to speak Spanish and dance Tango and eat dulce de leche.

In two weeks we'll both be jobless and homeless. I couldn't be more excited.

Between now and March 1, we're whittling down our lives to fit into a couple of suitcases. We're catching up on dentist visits and applying for credit cards without foreign transaction fees (there's only one). We're listening to Pimsleur Spanish lessons on our iPhones and considering the merits of a Kindle.

On March 1, we'll pack up the beast and drive her to Waterloo, where she'll spend the year with two old ladies, two rambunctious toy poodles, and the occasional toddler. We'll be back in NY to bid our farewells during the week leading up to our March 18 departure.

Last weekend I finally did my taxes, and I hesitated ever-so-slightly when TurboTax prompted me to finalize my state return:

More Incentive to Vote

Don't be coy. I'm sure you have *one* more email address that isn't subscribed to DailyCandy yet.

Have you forwarded this link to your friends yet? It's not too late. And I bet that Facebook status is still sitting there idly, waiting for you to tell the world you're voting for Ken. Go on, update that - I'll wait.

I can wait all night.

Rock The Vote!

Readers,

As you know, last year's election was a pivotal one. You donated your time and money, you called voters in the swing states, you crossed your fingers, and you voted. And now, thanks in part to his charisma and intelligence, and in large part to your perseverance and dedication, the leader of the free world doesn't suck.

It's time to elect another smart, charming fellowhottie: Ken has been chosen as one of the 10 finalists in Daily Candy's Get With The Programmer Contest! Get over there and vote for him. He'll make you a caipirinha and dance all Milli Vanilli for you. Girl, you know it's true.

P.S. If you're not already a DailyCandy subscriber your vote will sign you up, but it's actually a really awesome service, and the only one of its kind to which I subscribe! If you hate it you can pour your caipirinha on my shirt (and then just unsubscribe).

P.P.S. Guys, you can vote too. No homo.

Groundhog Controversy!

Early this morning, Groundhog Day, several portly rodents were draggedcoaxed from their lairs to satisfy our collective need to know: When can we seal up our woolies and break out that kicky new spring cardigan?

Near Pittsburgh, the beast made famous 16 years ago by Bill Murray, Punxsutawney Phil (yeah, I had to look up the spelling - "Phil" just isn't a common name these days), saw his shadow this morning and presumably scurried back into his hole. If his night was anything like mine, he'd gorged on 7-Layer Dip and liberally consumed special Steelers-edition Bud Light, then had choked down an Iron City Beer after Santonio Holmes' game-winning touchdown. I'm not feeling the whole "being awake" thing either, Phil.

Here in New York, however, Staten Island Chuck didn't see his shadow and Mayor Bloomberg has declared winter officially over.

WHO SHOULD WE BELIEVE?

I looked to Canada's own Wiarton Willie to be the tiebreaker, but Willie doesn't have a strong Web presence and I couldn't find anything about his prediction this year.

For now, I'll keep the hefty sweaters at hand, but move the cardigan to the front of my closet - you know, just in case.

P.S. Happy Birthday Mom!