Huge sugary thanks to Bri & Geoff, Leslie, John & Joe, and Anna, Pete, Nola & Nick, for the use of their kitchens (and stand mixers!). Thanks to Ann & Rob for transporting two tired travelers toting a disassembled cake and buckets of buttercream from NYC to Cape Cod. Thanks to Meredith & Philip for trusting their wedding cake to a crazy person. And thanks to Ken for his ongoing patience with my, um, ambitious commitments.
I'm going back to bed now. Possibly for three days.
Q Why are you back? I thought you were staying in Buenos Aires/South America for a year!
A We came back for a visit! This weekend we'll be at a wedding in Cape Cod, then we'll be in NY for 2 weeks. On October 5 we fly to Canada to see our peeps (and kitteh!) up north, and on October 15 we fly to Lima, Peru, to start another 6 months of South American Adventures (not to mention a full 15 months of summer).
Q Is it true that you are baking the cake for this wedding?
A Yes. Because I have a condition known as "insanity." The buttercream frosting, however, is some of my best work, so no regrets.
Q When can I/we see you?
A We have few plans after this weekend. Email us! If you're in Waterloo, we'll be at Oktoberfest at the Aud Queensmount (thanks Leigh!) on October 10. Two words: Walter Ostanek.
Q In your last post you referred to Ken's brother as your brother-in-law. WTF?
A Relax. It was a term of endearment, not legally binding <cough>Marc</cough>.
We've been back in the States for 24 hours and in NY for 18 and I can't believe how happy I am to be here. While I was waiting in line for US Immigration in Dallas I watched the US's new "Welcome" video, with montages of American landscapes and very deliberately multicultural people. I almost wish I could be cynical about this blatant PR effort but, I have to admit, it made me tear up a little. (Shut up! I was really tired, OK?)
Ken's brother picked us up at the airport which was the best possible scenario, given our 250 lbs (!!!) of luggage and general states of mind after 2 flights totaling almost 14 hours. Then, because he is the best brother-in-law ever, he took us to our most favourite diner in Brooklyn (Tom's - go there, please, it is the best) and not only did we eat bacon and eggs, we drank coffee out of huge mugs (with free refills) and used giant, soft, luxurious napkins. I didn't even realize I'd missed these things!
Later, Ken and I went into the city to buy wedding-cake-making supplies. We ate slices of thin-and-oh-so-crispy-crust NY pizza and watched the weird and beautiful people of NY go by at the corner of 22nd & 6th. Later, on our way back to the subway, we saw Janeane Garafalo in Union Square.
Last night I went to a friend's and we ordered chicken shwarma (so delicious) and now I'm off to another diner for more bacon and eggs and more mediocre-yet-bountiful coffee, and before I'm up to my elbows in cake frosting I just wanted to gush about how much I love NY. And I haven't even had a bagel yet.
Let's be honest: Eating dessert is pretty much at the top of my to-do list anywhere, not just in Buenos Aires. I've lost track of how many times I've mentioned my lust for dulce de leche, the rich caramel spread/sauce that is to Argentines as Nutella is to Germans, or maple syrup to Canadians - in other words, essential. However, I have yet to describe the myriad desserts in which it is contained (or accompanies), not to mention the dessert-menu items that don't even contain the magical substance.
Two classics that are often served with dulce de leche are flan, a firmish pudding not unlike the crème part of crème brûlée, and panqueques, which are really crêpes. The former is usually served with a generous dollup of ddl alongside, while the latter is filled with the stuff and either rolled or folded into a triangle, so that when you cut into it the ddl oozes out delightfully. Panqueques may also be ordered de manzana (with apples) or al rhum (with rum). The only time we tried panqueues de manzana they were extremely carmelized and so sticky that they were kind of unpleasant to eat. The rum pancakes, however, are fun because they're flambéed at your table, and everyone likes an open flame.
If you need a quick-fix of ddl, grab an alfajor. There are a few different types, of which the most common are the dulce de leche (filled with ddl and covered in a sugary meringue coating), and chocolate (also filled with ddl, but covered in chocolate). Then there are alfajores de maicena, which are the homemade varieties in which ddl is sandwiched between two cornstarch cookies then, optionally, rolled in coconut or dipped in chocolate.
Every ice cream store also has a plethora of variations on the dulce de leche theme. There's straight-up dulce de leche, which is ddl-flavoured ice cream, and dulce de leche super, which is ddl-flavoured ice cream with a ddl swirl. The other day I had dulce de leche bombom: ddl-flavoured ice cream with chocolate bonbons containing dulce de leche scattered throughout. Luxurious! And of course, you can order ice cream for home delivery, which is even more dangerous than the selection of Ben & Jerry's at an NYC bodega.
Lest you think this post should have been titled "Eat Dulce de Leche," there are a few other ubiquitous desserts in Buenos Aires that deserve a taste. Queso y dulce is fresh, salty cheese served with a hefty slab of dulce de membrillo (quince paste - quince was recently a Fruit of the Day), or dulce de batata, made from sweet potatoes. It doesn't look super-appetizing but it's tasty and a good compromise between dessert and cheese courses. Frutillas y crema (strawberries and cream) is usually Ken's first choice, and the Don Pedro is another favourite: It's a scoop (or three) of vanilla ice cream, doused in whiskey.
P.S. On Tuesday we'll be back in NY and on Wednesday I'll be baking the Queen Mother of all desserts: A wedding cake, for our friends' Meredith and Philip's nuptials in Cape Cod next weekend. Blogging (and sleeping, I suspect) may be limited for the next week or so, but I'm sure you'll survive, somehow. ¡Besote!
As I've mentioned, cheap food isn't always healthy, and anyway, who can resist the siren call of dulce de leche? To mitigate the more undesirable effects of too much steak and wine (and my inability to refuse the dessert menu in a restaurant), we signed up at a gym and hired a personal trainer within a few weeks of landing in Buenos Aires. While I've paid as much as $80 for a personal training session in NYC (Richie!), here we paid just over $10 for a session that included a 10-minute massage (!).
Buenos Aires has a surprisingly large community of runners, and even though I decided back in June to forego marathon training this year, I ran a handful of times in Palermo parks, which are beautiful and safe. I also ran a few races in these parks, and even PR'd in the last one I ran, in June.
Walking around the city is also great exercise; you just have to be vigilant about watching for dog poop. Consider it additional training, like an obstacle course! You could also walk your own dog (or 12).
And of course, there's dancing. Tango is the most obvious choice, but in the four months we lived here, we never made it to a class, let along a milonga. We did, however, try out Zouk-Lambada, a French-Brazilian dirty dancing, and tomorrow night will be testing our mad Samba skillz at a bar in San Telmo.
Links:
Gym: Always Club in Palermo
Running Clubs:
Club de Corredores has a group that meets weekly. The club also organizes regular races in Palermo Parks.
BsAs Runners also organizes races around the city.
Here is the story of how we chose to take a 5 hour bus ride to a city that sells towels with images of enthusiastic-looking naked ladies on them.
(Click to enlarge; NSFW.)
Last week, on the day our Brazil visas expired, we reluctantly boarded a bus to leave the country. (OK, that's a lie; we'd just spent a very rainy day in Puerto Alegre and were pretty psyched to swap the glamour of playing cards at the bus terminal for another 12 hour bus trip.) During our preliminary immigration check with the bus company we were asked about slips of paper that we were supposed to have filled out when we entered the country, not to mention stamps in our passports - neither of which we had received. The woman at the bus company assured us that we'd be fine.
Cut to: 3 a.m., the border crossing at Chui, Brazil, also known as Chuy, Uruguay (both pronounced "choo-ie"), at which time we were asked to step off the bus and explain the deficiencies in our passports. In Portuguese. Or, in my case, in Spanish with very poor Portuguese pronunciation.
After about 20 minutes of "explaining" to the Brazilian Federal Police that we hadn't received anything when we crossed the border, we were asked to write down our parents' names--never a sign that things are going well. A few minutes later we were handed forms. Mine read, in Portuguese, natch, that Gillian Gutenberg, daughter of [parents' names witheld to protect the innocent], committed the heinous crime of not having her passport stamped. (Thank god they didn't catch me smuggling coconut chocolate bars out of the country.) After a half-hearted attempt to read the forms, we signed them, which may mean that we'll be on an upcoming episode of Locked Up Abroad. We were also instructed that should we desire a Brazilian visa in the future (...duh), we would need to pay fines of $93 each.
Obviously the Brazilian Federal Police are not familiar with Monk Mode.
We arrived in Montevideo, Uruguay, about 5 hours later. The next day, after a fruitless attempt to pay our fine at a bank, we hit up the Brazilian Consulate, where I had the following conversation (in Spanish; illustrated here in BASIC) with a woman working there.
10 Me: We need to pay this fine. Do you know where we can pay it?
20 Brazilian Consulate Woman: You have to go to a Banco do Brasil, in Brazil.
30 Me: We can't go back to Brazil because our visas have expired. And we can't get new visas until we pay the fine.
40 GOTO 20
After a few rounds of this, an Orange Alert was issued for levels of annoyedness, and another woman came to speak to us. At that point Ken took over, and we learned that we could go back to Chui/Chuy and pay at the Banco do Brasil there.
And so, on Tuesday morning we boarded a 7 a.m. bus to Chui/Chuy to give the Brazilian Federal Police $186 to be allowed back in the country. We found the Banco do Brasil in Chui/Chuy with minimal effort and after some hijinks involving various metal items in my purse, I waited by the ATMs (and under the careful watch of the security guard) while Ken went in to pay our dues.
He came back out a few minutes later and reported that we needed to pay with Brazilian reais, not the Uruguayian pesos we'd brought. Please note the irony of this situation: We could buy a naked-nurse towel (click to enlarge; NSFW) using either Uruguayian or Brazilian currency, but we couldn't exchange our money at the bank. It was then that we learned that the ATMs at this particular bank didn't work with any of our banks' networks. Visa, apparently, is not everywhere you want to be.
We walked back about four blocks to the money exchange center, exchanged pesos for reais, then went back to the bank, where I waited, again, by the ATMs and the security guard, while Ken went into the bank, again, to pay the fine.
Ken came out a few minutes later to tell me we hadn't exchanged enough to pay the fines. Math is hard! Let's go shopping! We walked back to the exchange center (again) and back to the bank (again). The security guard watched with equal parts suspicion and amusement.
I was starting to think we liked Brazil more than it liked us.
Fortunately, third time's a charm: We left the bank with our precious receipts and made our way back to the bus terminal (which was really just a row of bus company offices on a street) to catch the next available bus back to Montevideo. Unfortunately, the next available bus was with a company that didn't accept non-Uruguayian credit cards, and we'd used all of our precious cash paying our fine. We were directed to another nearby bank, where we tried, using various combinations of bank cards and ATMs, to withdraw money. Guess what happened?
FAIL.
We walked back to the row of bus companies and found the next bus departing Chui/Chuy, at a different company. One that, thanks to all that is good and pure in the world, accepted MasterCard. We rejoiced quietly, then retired to a café across the street to drink coffee and play cards until we could bid farewell to the fabled land of naked-lady towels (click to enlarge; NSFW) and giant skewers of meat.
We've almost reached the six-month mark of our yearlong South American adventure, and as I mentioned previously, the second half of our year won't be spent in Buenos Aires (where we've lived for four of the past six months). Instead, after our visit home in September (during which I plan to consume copious amounts of nut butter, maple syrup, and Timbits) we're going to fly to Lima and travel around the continent - first south through Peru, Chile, and Argentina, then back to Brazil and possibly a few of the northern countries like Bolivia.
For the past three weeks we've been traveling through Southern Brazil and Uruguay, which has been a great trial run to figure out exactly what we want to carry on our backs for six months (the answer: a lot less than we're carrying now). It has also given us the opportunity to figure out and implement our new budget, in which we allocate a third of our daily spending to travel - something we didn't have to do when we were living in Buenos Aires. Borrowing a phrase coined by my BFF, Sirrah, we're in Monk Mode, which means that we're living frugally - just like monks, except without all the annoying celibacy.
It wouldn't be so bad except that we both like to eat, a lot, as in we really enjoy eating and we also like to eat a lot of food. In Brazil, we could usually find lunch of either chicken, fish, or meat, plus rice, beans, fries, and a small salad for around $5, and it was more than enough to share. A shot of coffee (cafezhino) in Brazil goes for anywhere from 25-50¢, and there's all that delicious fruit.
We're now in Montevideo, Uruguay, and have found a bakery near our hostel at which we can buy 2 coffees and 6 tiny medialuna sandwiches for $2.50. A hamburger from a street cart costs as little as $1 (and up to $2, depending on how many toppings you want to add, and by toppings I don't just mean ketchup and mustard - these babies come with slices of cheese, ham, bacon, and sometimes a fried egg).
As you may have gathered, the menu items available during Monk Mode are often not the most nutritious, so my new plan is to seek out introductory (read: free) classes of any physical activity I can bring myself to do, from yoga to capoeira to pilates.
Activities in a new city are also a challenge. We spent one day in Puerto Alegre, Brazil, and it rained, nay, poured, for 11 of the 12 hours we were there. We spent most of the day wandering around the central market, parking ourselves at one of its many eating establishments and ordering 2 of the cheapest coffees on the menu which we nursed for an hour or more while we played cards.
Or, How We Make Plans
Two days ago we left Rio and toted our caipirinha-induced hangovers about 90km north to a small city called Teresópolis, up in the mountains and known best for its state park and hiking. After we arrived and found our hostel (a really beautiful place nestled up on a steep hillside), we took our map of the park out for pizza to plan our next couple of days.
In addition to several shorter hikes within the Teresópolis side of the park, there is a 55km hike that starts in Teresópolis and finishes in Petrópolis, another city that we'd considered visiting.
K: Maybe we could do that hike tomorrow.
G: 55km? In a day?
K: Yeah, that's just over a marathon. How long would that take?
G: Hm, I guess we could do that in 8 hours.
Later that night Ken did some research on the World Wide Web: The 55km trail is a 3-day hike for which you need to hire a guide. We agreed to spend Tuesday at the park to do some shorter hikes and gather more info. When we arrived, a very friendly guide apologized for the weather (it was extremely foggy) and showed us how to find the trailheads for the trails accessible from Teresópolis. She also advised us to hike one in particular (Post Card Trail) that is rated moderate to difficult to gauge our readiness for the 3-day hike.
We set off up a steep road of about 2km to find the trailheads. The first trail we hiked, rated easy, was ony 400m and took us all of 10 minutes. We felt studly and set off to find the next trail, rated moderate. This one was 1.1km and took us an hour. I was starting to realize the error of our previous night's calculations. We continued up the steep road to the trailhead for Post Card Trail, and decided to save it for last (read: I wasn't sure we should start it without at least a little break first).
After a snack, a bathroom break and a nice flat 400m hike we started up Post Card's steep 1.2km trail, and reached the lookout point in just under an hour. There was a handy sign that illustrated the various mountain peaks visible from that point. 
*Visibility may vary according to weather. See also: Extremely foggy.
Anyway, after 4 hours of hiking and a couple of hot showers, we realized that we're unprepared at this juncture for 3 days of hiking. Instead, we're going to spend the rest of the week doing that for which we are well-suited: sitting on the beach. Hopefully our visibility will improve.
P.S. On Monday we purchased a large bag of oranges for about 54¢. As an experiment, I'm going see if I can survive on only oranges for the next 24 hours. No matter the outcome, it will be a real boon to our budget.
This week we started our backpacking-lives in style on a full-bed bus from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu. The bus company was Via Bariloche and the service was beyond awesome. The first thing we did when we boarded was to check the accuracy of the claim "full-bed," and we were not disappointed. Here we are, sleeping* on the bus.
*Sleeping is simulated.
An hour or two into our 16+ hour bus trip, we were served a hot meal with wine, followed by coffee. And just as I was about to tuck in for the night, we were offered a choice of whiskey or champagne! Note: All this was while we watched our choice of movies (or Latino music videos!) on our own personal TVs. Breakfast (medialunas, juice, and coffee) was served about an hour before we arrived, feeling quite refreshed, in Puerto Iguazu.
Then we went to see some waterfalls!
Another 24 hours on buses later (which I won't describe in detail - suffice to say that, at least in our limited experience with intercity bus travel, Argentina>Brazil), we arrived in Rio and are hanging with the Europeans. I just hope my liver survives the next 3 days with these guys.
The Buenos Aires list is on hold for now, possibly until we get back there next month and I finish detox.
Here's a snippet from something I wrote over two months ago, because my current self couldn't have said it better than my past self. I love it when that happens.
One of my most favourite things about Buenos Aires is that everyone kisses everyone here. It's like a handshake or a casual wave, only it's always a cheek-kiss; right-cheeks, please. And absolutely everyone does it, everywhere, to say both hello and goodbye. At the gym, big muscly guys greet each other with a kiss. It's how I say hi to my trainer, Adrián. (I'm not complaining; it's the closest I'm going to get to making out with a 24-year-old again in this lifetime.) When we had our party a couple of weeks ago, whenever someone new showed up, it took him or her 10 minutes to make their way around the room, smooching everyone up. Just this week, I went to a spinning class*, and as I was setting up my bike the instructor came over and greeted me with a kiss. And our really really awesome Spanish teacher, Sofía, signs all her emails "un besote". Beso = kiss, and besotee is alittleBIG BIG kiss (per Sofía, who just corrected me on this important matter) - which happens to be my favourite kind.
The only difference is that I now get to kiss my new trainer, Matias, and that when we text to arrange our meeting times he will often reply, "Dale [OK], un beso." I'm also happy to report that the threat of swine flu doesn't seem to have diminished the amount of kissing in the least.
We're about to embark on a many, many hour bus trip, and then another many, many hour bus trip, and my good intentions of writing stuff to auto-post over the next couple of days drowned in a glass (or three) of Malbec last night, so it may be a few days before I have a chance to wrap up this list. Stay tuned!
When Ken and I visited Buenos Aires two years ago, we went to an estancia (ranch) called Los Dos Hermanos, located about an hour out of the city. We had an amazing day that included breakfast, a huge asado lunch of homemade empanadas and at least four sizzling grills of meat, plus salads, and several hours of riding horses. We liked it so much that we went back again this year for Ken's birthday. We had another great day of food and horses, and in the afternoon they surprised Ken with a birthday cake! How nice!
Last week we went horseback riding again, this time at a nearby place called A La Par. A La Par is in a huge and very beautiful provincial park (Parque Provincial Pereyra Iraola) about 30 minutes from downtown Buenos Aires. We arrived just after 11 a.m. and immediately saddled up for a ride that lasted almost 2 hours. Our guides at A La Par, Adrian and Emilio, were very encouraging. They really taught us how to ride our horses more effectively. On our return we tucked into a snack of medialunas and mate.
Bonus: A La Par is home to four completely adorable dogs!
I've written about puerta cerrada (closed door) restaurants before. I can think of few better ways to experience a culture than to dine in someone's home, and to share with them the food, wine, and music about which they're passionate.
At Casa Felix, you'll enjoy an outstanding pescatarian (fish-and-veggies only) meal with lots of local flavour, including native herbs that Chef Diego Felix grows in his backyard. At ¿Dónde me trajiste? you'll share a delicious home-cooked meal and enjoy a wonderful evening of live music (my full review is here).
Other puerta cerrada restaurants that I know of but haven't visited (...yet):
Casa SaltShaker (varied theme menus that look interesting and fun; they also offer cooking classes)
Cocina Sunae (pan-Asian fare - something that's generally hard to come by in Buenos Aires)
Of course, if you missed your chance to dine at our most favourite of all puerta cerradas, Ceci n'est pas un restaurant, fear not - I suspect we'll be open for business again sometime.
The buses in Buenos Aires are outstanding for so many reasons. First, they cost next-to-nothing. We've never paid more than 35¢ to get all the way across town. Second, there are literally hundreds of them, and no matter where you are and where you want to go, there's a bus for you. Third, the buses here are pimped out! Not only are they all adorned with various etched mirrors and fuzzy dice, the driver is often rocking out to loud 80s tunes. Some even have UV lights! It's just like when I used to go rollerskating at Super Skate 7 in grade 9, only I don't have to worry about falling on my ass. Although sometimes I do worry that the bus is going to hit someone, because they go pretty fast and don't leave a lot of room for error.
The bus system can be a little challenging to decipher at first. You need a Guia "T" (pronounced "gia tay"), which can be purchased at kioskos downtown and near the main bus terminal for a few dollars. The Guia "T" is a guide to all the buses in Buenos Aires. As a bonus, its cover illustrates a plethora of fonts and design principles!
The Guia "T" has a website, but it's been Coming Soon! for a while now. There's another site, though, called Como Viajo, that lets you enter your starting and destination points and tells you which buses or metro lines to take. It has terrible maps but other than that it's just fine.
The main drawback of taking the bus is that you have to have monedas, or coins, which can be hard to come by. We hoard coins just for this purpose, and possibly also to give Ken something to do (he likes to stack them neatly by denomination). You may be forced to stop at a kiosko and buy an alfajor to get change. (It's a hard life.) Another drawback is that they're a bit dirty - that is, they spew giant clouds of exhaust. But that just means that riding the bus is more pleasant than, say, walking beside it. Also, you might get an emo driver, like the one we had on Friday, who was smoking AND texting while slowly navigating a bus through San Telmo.
Speaking of buses, the intercity buses here are also awesome. They have seats that recline fully into beds, and often there's a movie and/or a hot meal! Which is good, because starting on Sunday we'll be on a bus for 20 hours, to Iguazu Falls, after which we'll be on another one for 24 hours from Iguazu to Rio de Janeiro. Thank god for Benadryl.
Oh come on, you knew this one was coming.
We knew we'd eat a lot of steak here - not only is it super-delicious grass-fed beef, it's also unbelievably cheap. At the grocery store, we can buy two T-bone steaks for around 15 pesos (less than $4). At a restaurant, the most expensive cut (lomo, which is roughly a filet mignon) costs about $8, and is big enough for us to share. Empanadas stuffed with beef, chicken, or ham and cheese are readily had for under $1 apiece at any pizza joint. And don't even get us started on the sandwiches: Neither of us has met a choripán (sausage), lomito (sliced beef), or bondiola (pork) we didn't like.
There are also the sauces to consider. Chimichurri is a ubiquitous blend of garlic, herbs, oil and vinegar that we use without reservation on any and every type of meat (it's also great on bread and fries). On sandwiches, though, you may be presented with myriad toppings, and while Argentine cuisine isn't known for it's spiciness, some of the hot peppers on offer aren't kidding around (bottom left, I'm looking at you).
Our favourites:
We've lost count of how many times we've eaten at El Desnivel in San Telmo. It's no-frills, cheap, and if you're lucky you'll get a surly waiter. If you have time, a Saturday trip to Los Talas del Entrerrianos will give you the best of meat sweats. You can get a decent asado (mixed grill) at any of a number of restaurants, but for the best ambience, share one with friends on a Sunday afternoon at the Fería de Mataderos. If you're really lucky, you'll be invited to a real Argentine asado, which is just like a regular American-style BBQ only with way more meat. (At the last one we went to, I earned the nickname "Meat Juice Girl". My mom's gonna be so proud.)
Finally, I've said it before and I'll say it again: Go to the Ecological Reserve, just past Puerto Madero. Find El Parrillon (it's the second parrilla on the left), and order the Super Bondiolita al Limon. You'll thank me, I promise.
Learning Spanish was one of our top reasons for choosing Buenos Aires as a place to live. The week we arrived we started classes at Íbero Spanish School in the center of Buenos Aires. It was a good place to start: We had a great teacher (Alejandro), the school organized activities like movies and dinners, and probably most importantly, it was a great way to meet other travelers. In fact, that's where we met Frenchy and Dutchy (a.k.a. Audrey and Eric), with whom we're going to rendez-vous next week in Rio.
Anyway, after a few weeks of commuting to downtown Buenos Aires, which is not entirely unlike midtown NY (read: stressful and smelly), we discovered through the power of the interwebs our current and most-beloved profesora, Sofía. Sofía is part of a Spanish "school" called Ñ. There are 5 or 6 core teachers, and they don't have a school, per se, but teach privately (or in very small groups), either at peoples' apartments or in a cafe or restaurant. Our lessons with Ñ have really been tailored to our skill level and interests, and apparently we've learned something, because on Friday evening we had dinner with Alejandro and his partner, and during the entire meal we spoke only in Spanish. And I think they even understood most of what we said!
In addition to classes, we tried to immerse ourselves in the language with language exchanges, telenovelas, podcasts, and books, newspapers and magazines. At times it wore us out (I still marvel at how drained I feel after a 2-hour class), but not only are everyday interactions exponentially easier now, I'm even starting to feel like I can express myself in Spanish (which in turn makes me feel like less of a dud in social situations).
Links you'll like:
Schools
Íbero Spanish School
Ñ de Español
Language Exchanges
Spanglish BA ~ kind of like speed-dating for language: You're assigned a table with 2-3 other people, and you spend 5 minutes speaking English, then 5 speaking Spanish. Then half the table rotates, and you have a new group with which to chat. The fee is nominal and usually includes a drink.
Conversation Exchange ~ a free conversation exchange that you can do by email or chat, or live and in person! Ken & I both met people using this site and it was a great way to practice our conversation skillz. You don't even have to live in BA to use it.
Podcasts
Spanishpod
News in Slow Spanish
Show Time Spanish
Newspapers & Magazines
Clarin ~ major Argentine newspaper
El Mundo ~ kind of like the NY Times in Spanish
OHLALÁ ~ well-designed and well-written women's magazine
Planeta Joy ~ lots of lists of bests in Buenos Aires (I suspect I will take advantage of their chocotortas list before we leave)
Merienda first entered our lives back in April, when we started tracking our meals for our personal trainer. He sent us a spreadsheet with all the usual meals and snacks to fill in, but there was one new (to us) entry tucked in between almuerza (lunch) and cena (dinner): merienda.
Dinner in Buenos Aires is much later than we're used to in North America, and the only way to make it through the afternoon is to have a late-day meal that's more-or-less another breakfast. A classic merienda is coffee with three medialunas (small-ish croissants with a sweet glaze), and we've seen the combo for as little as 5 pesos (about $1.30).
With just over a week left to enjoy the Paris of the South, we've compiled a list of our 10 favourite things to do in Buenos Aires. I'll post one or two per day until we leave, and who knows, this week we may even add to the list - that's just how we roll.
Favourite Buenos Aires Activity #10: Drink Mate
The first time we tried mate was at an outing with our Spanish school. We first drank it amargo, which means bitter (or more gently, unsweetened), and neither of us liked it much. The cebador (mate server) then added some sugar and we found it more palatable, as do many foreigners.
When we changed to private Spanish instruction and met Sofía, she gave us more detailed instructions. She told us exactly what shape of mate, or gourd, to purchase. She explained how to properly prepare mate, and told us that sweetened, it isn't really mate. (We've since gleaned that how one prefers mate is a matter of taste, and that taste is often regional.) There are literally dozens of different brands and varieties of mate in the grocery store, and choosing can be difficult. Fortunately, not long after we started drinking mate I went to Norma's Argentine cooking class, and she introduced me to an organic yerba mate with herbs that was delicious.
Not long after our lesson with Sofía we bought our own mate and have been drinking mate regularly ever since. We don't quite have the dedication of a Uruguayan fellow we met in Brazil who carried his mate and Thermos with him in a handy leather tote, but I suspect we'll continue to drink mate as long as we have access to yerba.
In short, yerba mate is an acquired taste that we think is worth acquiring. And Buenos Aires, where the parks are full of mate drinkers no matter the season, and where you can order a mate service (mate, hot water, and a handful of sweet biscuits) for 5-10 pesos at most cafés, is the perfect place to start.
Not long after we arrived in Buenos Aires, we found ourselves in a largely-expat bar watching college basketball next to a porteño named Abel. Fortunately for everyone, especially us, Abel speaks English fluently and told us about all the best places in the city to eat. Most importantly, he told us about his favourite pork sandwich, which is available at a small parrilla near the entrance to the ecological reserve.
As today was our penultimate Saturday in Buenos Aires, we finally decided to go on our pork pilgrimage. On the bus to the ecological reserve, we realized that we didn't know exactly which parrilla in the ecological reserve would have the fabled sandwich, so Ken texted Abel.
Ken: Hey, we're on the lookout for the legendary pork sandwich. How do we recognize the right stand?
Abel: It is the second one from the entrance of the ecological reserve. Mi parrillon or el parrillon. Who is this?
Ken told him it was us asking, to which Abel replied, "I thought so. Pork sandwich is an important matter. Only put chimichurri." He also advised us to get a choripán.
We found the parrilla, like an oasis in the dessert, only instead of water, it was full of delicious, delicious meat. We ordered the super bondiolita al limon - the super pork sandwich with lemon. The dude working at the parrilla sliced strips of pork off of a hunk, then put them on the hot grill and squirted lemon juice on top. After turning them a few times, he put the grilled strips on a warm roll and we slathered it with chimichurri. The sandwich was a study in delicious contrasts. The meat was juicy and perfectly cooked and salty and sweet, like all good pork should be. The bun was soft and crusty and perfectly absorbed the excess juices. Needless to say, our pork sandwich didn't last long.
We had a choripán for dessert.
Cross-posted on Ultra Fine Food.
Once again, I'm standing about a meter in front of the wall, facing it. I'll want to push off with my left foot and kick up with my right foot. I step my left foot forward as I place my hands on the floor, then flex my left knee a little bit more while my right leg stays straight. I push off with my left foot and try, again, to kick my legs up to the wall.
I don't even come close, and both feet drop back to the floor with a thump.
Last week I went to my first Capoeira class. On the way there I joked to Ken that if I wasn't upside down by the end of class, I wasn't going back.
Midway through the (level zero) class, we were practicing handstands and cartwheels. I've never done either.
In yoga, I've done headstands, but never a handstand. I even took a handstand class a few years ago. Apparently I loved it, but I never managed to fully invert.
Every year, about a month before my birthday, I resolve that this year! Before this birthday! I will do a cartwheel. And a handstand! If my feet are all the way up there, why not?
With the exception of a handful of 90-minute classes three years ago, I've never actively tried to achieve this goal. I've gone to yoga classes and done the preparation (mat against the wall, Downward-Facing Dog, walk feet in) and then after a few half-hearted kicks I've rested in Child's Pose, satisified with my "effort".
But now, thanks to these intensely challenging Capoeira classes, I'm trying more sincerely than I ever have, and in trying I've realized that I am almost paralyzed with fear. When the instructor tells us that we'll be practicing an inversion my heart beats loudly in my chest. As I watch my classmates effortlessly step into handstands and turn perfect cartwheels, my breath shortens and I feel a lump in my throat and the words "I can't I can't I can't" repeat so loudly in my head that I'm sure everyone else can hear them, too.
In those moments, I don't want to be there. Sometimes I try to be optimistic, telling the teacher that I can't do that exact move quite yet, and he has given me alternatives to practice, and I do, and survive. Other times, I whisper, "I hate this."
I don't know where this fear comes from, and anyway, it probably doesn't matter. I do know that at the end of every class I've felt stronger, and grateful for the experience. I also know that I'll keep going back.
And maybe this will be the year that I can.
www.flickr.com
|
