la boca, buenos aires
continental airlines and a dwindling bank account are telling me that i have to leave south america tomorrow. with my departure imminent, i only think it appropriate to run through a few of the reasons why i bother to dust off that backpack and forsake the middle of baseball season for foreign lands. entonces, before i leave you with a little radio silence, why i travel.....
to reread your passport after every stamp.
to snap pictures of the sunset from the top of a dune at jericoacoara, then decide to leave the camera in the bag when you return the next day.
to laugh as a gringo makes a fool of himself on the 33 bus, forgetting that you did the exact same thing a few weeks ago.
to find a tangoistas contra gauchos chess board to add to your collection.
to take yourself less seriously.
to speak spanish to a brazilian, have them speak back to you in portuguese, and to understand one another perfectly.
to feel a sudden vested interest in the argentine national soccer team.
to look at a stinky mattress on a shaky bunk bed in a drab, windowless cordoba room and say to the hostel employee, ´perfecto!´ before unloading your backpack.
to return to total ignorance.
to arrive after an all day bus ride and wish that you had one more hour to stare at palm trees from that window seat.
to buy cheap sunglasses in ipanema, only to break them in salvador.
to find the biggest smiles in the poorest of places.
to hear a joke about uruguayans and ´get it´.
to talk with cab drivers about argentine politics.
to kiss on the cheek.
to see a wave and tell yourself, ´this one is mine´.
to be recognized by the acajare lady.
to know which choripan guy in plaza italia is the best.
to say, ´yeah, i´ve been there´.
to be an ambassador for your country.
to jam to creedence clearwater revival and the doors as the cab driver takes that turn on the paseo colon just a little too fast.
to run into a friend on the streets of montevideo.
to be hungry, tired, unshaven, and broke and realize that these may be the best days of your life.
to love.
to be told by a local that you have a porteño accent.
frequent flyer miles.....holla!
to acquire the taste of maté.
to see a two dollar bottle of wine and tell yourself it´s too expensive.
to memorize maps.
to pretend that you understand whatever the hell that person is saying to you.
to return home with a new purpose.
to eavesdrop in another language.
to be frustrated, angry, and discontent; and then to realize that you´ve been wrong all along.
for the kids.
to know that you have a better story but will keep it to yourself.
to splurge.
to finally throw away that green towel.
to learn that forearm is translated as antebrazo. i mean, how cool is that?
to see fortaleza, brazil and instantly be reminded of windhoek, namibia.
to say, ´that´s not what i thought i ordered´, and then eat it anyway.
to have emotional goodbyes with people who were no more than strangers a few days/weeks/months before.
to receive an open invitation to a chilean ski cabin, just for sharing your peanut butter and crackers.
to recognize the difference between pagode and samba.
to stare out a plane window as the ground of your newest home recedes and disappears and pledge to yourself that you will never stop traveling, you will never stop traveling.
....but, really, if the question has to be asked, the answer will never be known.
buenas noches y buena suerte, hasta entonces......
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
ondas e vales
jericoacoara
hard to think of a better place to end one's travels than jeri. rolling sand dunes, soaring palms, cheap caipirinhas, and, of course, mother ocean. this is definitely one of those places where your stay often exceeds its anticipated duration and you seriously consider contacting that black market kidney dealer to see if it would be enough to let you stay for six more months. but, alas, the bus ticket to fortaleza has been purchased and 2 pm tomorrow we'll be bidding adeus to the praia. at least we will have been well acquainted.
i met zio [sic] on monday and arranged for our first surf lesson that afternoon. i first tried it last year in mancora, peru, and was able to get up after my second day with help from victor, my teacher then (sorry, victor, i'm seeing someone new and he treats me well). however, the ondas were smaller and i was greatly assisted by pushes before each attempt (see, victor, i still remember the good times). this time has been a different story.
both days of lessons have consisted of one hour of in-water instruction and a second hour where he would watch me from the shore (or chat up chics in bikinis). he gave me a quick dry land run-through: chest lifted, hands gripping the sides, push up and have your legs planted slightly more than shoulder length apart. fácil? não. measuring close to two meters affords many opportunities for changing light bulbs and grabbing rebounds, but is not very advantageous when it comes to trying to prop oneself onto a plank being propelled by aquatic fury.
então, my days in the ocean have more or less consisted of seeing an onda and having to decide between 1) face the wave and let it smack me in the face or 2) attempt to surf the wave and let it throw me to the sea floor. i feel like i've managed a healthy balance between the two, though i have not been my only victim.
met a fellow american in the water today. happened when i attempted a wave, saw the fellow traveler ten feet away, tried to stand up anyway, fell back, and finally sent the board directly into his stomach. pretty sure he was american, at least he definitely spoke english, it's just hard to decipher accents when the person is keeled over grimacing. minha culpa.
still, i will categorize the entire experience as a success. i rode a couple waves and even turned the board on one of them (big deal for yours truly). but the biggest may be that zio took a liking to me for some reason and offered me a free hour amanhã de manhã. he said that the waves are just as good and that the wind doesn't have as much a presence (which i will hereafter blame everything on).
9 am never looked so good.
hard to think of a better place to end one's travels than jeri. rolling sand dunes, soaring palms, cheap caipirinhas, and, of course, mother ocean. this is definitely one of those places where your stay often exceeds its anticipated duration and you seriously consider contacting that black market kidney dealer to see if it would be enough to let you stay for six more months. but, alas, the bus ticket to fortaleza has been purchased and 2 pm tomorrow we'll be bidding adeus to the praia. at least we will have been well acquainted.
i met zio [sic] on monday and arranged for our first surf lesson that afternoon. i first tried it last year in mancora, peru, and was able to get up after my second day with help from victor, my teacher then (sorry, victor, i'm seeing someone new and he treats me well). however, the ondas were smaller and i was greatly assisted by pushes before each attempt (see, victor, i still remember the good times). this time has been a different story.
both days of lessons have consisted of one hour of in-water instruction and a second hour where he would watch me from the shore (or chat up chics in bikinis). he gave me a quick dry land run-through: chest lifted, hands gripping the sides, push up and have your legs planted slightly more than shoulder length apart. fácil? não. measuring close to two meters affords many opportunities for changing light bulbs and grabbing rebounds, but is not very advantageous when it comes to trying to prop oneself onto a plank being propelled by aquatic fury.
então, my days in the ocean have more or less consisted of seeing an onda and having to decide between 1) face the wave and let it smack me in the face or 2) attempt to surf the wave and let it throw me to the sea floor. i feel like i've managed a healthy balance between the two, though i have not been my only victim.
met a fellow american in the water today. happened when i attempted a wave, saw the fellow traveler ten feet away, tried to stand up anyway, fell back, and finally sent the board directly into his stomach. pretty sure he was american, at least he definitely spoke english, it's just hard to decipher accents when the person is keeled over grimacing. minha culpa.
still, i will categorize the entire experience as a success. i rode a couple waves and even turned the board on one of them (big deal for yours truly). but the biggest may be that zio took a liking to me for some reason and offered me a free hour amanhã de manhã. he said that the waves are just as good and that the wind doesn't have as much a presence (which i will hereafter blame everything on).
9 am never looked so good.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
o belo jugo
jericoacoara
not one to like imbalance, after this morning i can now claim to have watched a high stakes argentina v. brasil futbol match from the terra of both countries. well, watched them on television from the terra of both countries. that counts, no?
today's olympic semifinal and the world cup qualifier from june were definitely representative of my impressions of these countries. it is remarkable to fathom the diversity that these two paises have, within their own borders or taken together. to think of villas and palermo, ipanema and rocinho, bahia and ceará is to see that these countries need to be painted with broader brushes than the estados unidos (not to mention all the places i will not go to: são paulo, patagonia, amazonia, etc.). but what ties everyone together, all these descendants of italians, spaniards, portuguese, slaves, and indigenous populations (those that weren't exterminated, of course), has to be the beautiful game.
there are about as many snowball fights on the beach of copacabana as empty soccer pitches in both of these countries. most volleyball games are played without hands. perhaps the most rewarding has been to see two of the world's (if not the world's two) best teams on television on the same day as a pick-up game on the pampa or praia. it is to see the dream and the dreamers, and to have the clearest perspective on both.
for the record, argentina got a 3-0 victory and will play nigeria for the gold medal. one might think that being the best, and being neighbors, these two would have bad blood. instead, (at least as i read it) there appears to be nothing but respect between them. you hear that, auburn and tuscaloosa?
a previsão de bola de cristal:
if you are only a casual futbol fan (watch the world cup, maybe the euro), you will know lionel messi's name in 2010, just as i was introduced to zinedine zidane in 2006 (when i first payed attention).
not one to like imbalance, after this morning i can now claim to have watched a high stakes argentina v. brasil futbol match from the terra of both countries. well, watched them on television from the terra of both countries. that counts, no?
today's olympic semifinal and the world cup qualifier from june were definitely representative of my impressions of these countries. it is remarkable to fathom the diversity that these two paises have, within their own borders or taken together. to think of villas and palermo, ipanema and rocinho, bahia and ceará is to see that these countries need to be painted with broader brushes than the estados unidos (not to mention all the places i will not go to: são paulo, patagonia, amazonia, etc.). but what ties everyone together, all these descendants of italians, spaniards, portuguese, slaves, and indigenous populations (those that weren't exterminated, of course), has to be the beautiful game.
there are about as many snowball fights on the beach of copacabana as empty soccer pitches in both of these countries. most volleyball games are played without hands. perhaps the most rewarding has been to see two of the world's (if not the world's two) best teams on television on the same day as a pick-up game on the pampa or praia. it is to see the dream and the dreamers, and to have the clearest perspective on both.
for the record, argentina got a 3-0 victory and will play nigeria for the gold medal. one might think that being the best, and being neighbors, these two would have bad blood. instead, (at least as i read it) there appears to be nothing but respect between them. you hear that, auburn and tuscaloosa?
a previsão de bola de cristal:
if you are only a casual futbol fan (watch the world cup, maybe the euro), you will know lionel messi's name in 2010, just as i was introduced to zinedine zidane in 2006 (when i first payed attention).
Monday, August 18, 2008
vindicação e vingança
jericoacoara
alright, salvador: you win. something tells me you always do. with mere hours remaining in our stay before a morning flight to fortaleza, the final judgment on salvador had pretty much been determined: glad to have seen it, but not up to expectations. still, with a free evening, why not go out and see if the place could redeem itself?
primeira paragem: acajaré lady. there's a feeling of attainment when you're able to walk up to a big black woman, dressed in full west african garb, in the middle of a busy plaza, and not only tell her 'the usual', but to have her know what that means. wanting to stretch my reais a little further, i opted out of dinner and instead went for an acajaré: a fried roll of manioc/flour, stuffed with a paste of okra, pureed beans, hot sauce (si!), and then topped with small, boiled shrimp. i'd been having them more or less every day, so what better way to conclude this leg?
segunda paragem: that noise. you know, that noise that was coming from somewhere over there. since you always hear the drums first, we walked towards where we thought we'd encounter live music, and found it in one of the pelourinho's narrow streets. turned out to be drums and then more drums, part of a corps consisting of one teacher and about a dozen students between the ages of 11-18 playing the full gamut from three basses to a pair of snares. even better, found a gent with a styrofoam cooler and a tall skol for 3 reais. also a fitting conclusion: walking among centuries old portuguese architecture, drinking a tall boy (or 2) and watching kids play bahian beats through the streets.
terceira paragem: felipé. following the drum procession to the largo do pelourinho, we stopped at a corner and met a bahian friend. he didn't so much approach us as just appear, and assumed our proficiency by speaking portuguese really fast. what followed was an forty-minute conversation about nothing and everything: (of course) how dangerous places are, favelas, mardi gras, beaches, soccer. maybe he thought we were cool (likely), maybe he was just really stoned (definite possibility), but he came up and talked to us, in the place full of beggars, touts, and prostitutes, just as people. not that anyone should be blamed for seeking something out of a gringo, but it was just nice that he didn't.
quarta paragem: capoeira. we had seen it before, this bahian traditional artform that descends from slaves. capoeira consists of two participants who simulate combat in the middle of a roda, whose members alternate playing instruments, singing a hypnotic chant, or taking their own turn in the middle. when we had seen it before, the participants may as well have been competing in beijing for all their muscles, flexibility, and acrobatics. this time, it was a bit slower, more melodic, and definitely more genuine. the sembe, playing the berimbaus, was a healthy dreaded man in his 60s. when two of the fighters got a little too combative, he chastised them saying that that business had no place in angolan capoeira. thus, we were able to walk back to our hostel in a little more of a happy trance that we had been nights prior.
quinta paragem: toilet, our room, in the middle of the night. either salvador was taking its mystic revenge for what i had said about it earlier, or my stomach was not agreeing with the dende oil from the acajaré. my guess: a little of both.
alright, salvador: you win. something tells me you always do. with mere hours remaining in our stay before a morning flight to fortaleza, the final judgment on salvador had pretty much been determined: glad to have seen it, but not up to expectations. still, with a free evening, why not go out and see if the place could redeem itself?
primeira paragem: acajaré lady. there's a feeling of attainment when you're able to walk up to a big black woman, dressed in full west african garb, in the middle of a busy plaza, and not only tell her 'the usual', but to have her know what that means. wanting to stretch my reais a little further, i opted out of dinner and instead went for an acajaré: a fried roll of manioc/flour, stuffed with a paste of okra, pureed beans, hot sauce (si!), and then topped with small, boiled shrimp. i'd been having them more or less every day, so what better way to conclude this leg?
segunda paragem: that noise. you know, that noise that was coming from somewhere over there. since you always hear the drums first, we walked towards where we thought we'd encounter live music, and found it in one of the pelourinho's narrow streets. turned out to be drums and then more drums, part of a corps consisting of one teacher and about a dozen students between the ages of 11-18 playing the full gamut from three basses to a pair of snares. even better, found a gent with a styrofoam cooler and a tall skol for 3 reais. also a fitting conclusion: walking among centuries old portuguese architecture, drinking a tall boy (or 2) and watching kids play bahian beats through the streets.
terceira paragem: felipé. following the drum procession to the largo do pelourinho, we stopped at a corner and met a bahian friend. he didn't so much approach us as just appear, and assumed our proficiency by speaking portuguese really fast. what followed was an forty-minute conversation about nothing and everything: (of course) how dangerous places are, favelas, mardi gras, beaches, soccer. maybe he thought we were cool (likely), maybe he was just really stoned (definite possibility), but he came up and talked to us, in the place full of beggars, touts, and prostitutes, just as people. not that anyone should be blamed for seeking something out of a gringo, but it was just nice that he didn't.
quarta paragem: capoeira. we had seen it before, this bahian traditional artform that descends from slaves. capoeira consists of two participants who simulate combat in the middle of a roda, whose members alternate playing instruments, singing a hypnotic chant, or taking their own turn in the middle. when we had seen it before, the participants may as well have been competing in beijing for all their muscles, flexibility, and acrobatics. this time, it was a bit slower, more melodic, and definitely more genuine. the sembe, playing the berimbaus, was a healthy dreaded man in his 60s. when two of the fighters got a little too combative, he chastised them saying that that business had no place in angolan capoeira. thus, we were able to walk back to our hostel in a little more of a happy trance that we had been nights prior.
quinta paragem: toilet, our room, in the middle of the night. either salvador was taking its mystic revenge for what i had said about it earlier, or my stomach was not agreeing with the dende oil from the acajaré. my guess: a little of both.
Friday, August 15, 2008
pensamentos e fios
praça da se, salvador da bahia
the past couple days of radio silence were a factor of our stay on the tropical ilha of morro de são paulo. two hours south of salvador by boat, it was a breath of fresh air for a couple weary travelers, and even inspired a few pensamentos:
filmadoras e da praia
seriously? you're going to film people (that you don't know) laying on their backs, doing nothing, on the beach? you are either about to bore the shit out of everyone at your next dinner party, or should not live within 500 yards of a school. perhaps both?
agora contratar
one of the least desirable, though perhaps most respectable and necessary, of occupations must be that of boat puke-bag collector. those two hours between salvador and morro de são paulo, e então the island and salvador had to be among the most miserable for a considerable number of our fellow passageiros. on our return earlier today, the boat mostly rocked from bow to stern, while starboard and port joined in on the action for our first trip. standing there, the calm in the eye of the storm, was our trusty puke-bag collector. he would occasionally stand there and survey the thirty odd passengers to see who needed fresh air, who had filled their bag, or just to put the luggage that had been thrown across the cabin back where it had been originally.
sugestões
next time you are threatened with a case of seasickness, remember that chewing gum or sucking on a lime can be of assistance (the former helped me wednesday). however, watching olympic highlight montages featuring gymnasts, divers, or anyone else who spins, twirls, jumps, flips, rotates, etc. may exacerbate the situation. sejam cuidadosos, my friends.
almoço
finally! found a reasonable deal for lunch. on the main drag, leading down to the beach, were a handful of establishments serving 10 reais platos. my dish of choice: moqueca do siri. basically a flavorful west african stew, this variety served with crab, mixed with tomatoes and various vegetables and spices, served alongside rice, manioc, ensalada, and feijão (bean and meat stew) on the side. add the spicy (really) green stuff.....yum.
assinar
if the thumbs-up display has the same translation as it does in the states, these are some of the nicest people on earth. if it translates to the equivalent of showing the middle finger, i pretty much hate everyone in brasil.
chuva
while noone likes it when it rains on vacation, i can't help but remain upbeat despite many consecutive days of the damp stuff. it has never really fallen consistently, but yesterday (our only full day on the praia) was one of the only ones that was nearly entirely dry. even when it did fall, its composition was less than drizzle and it descended from a sunny, cloudless sky. i'm alright with that.
barco, novamente
to death and taxes, we must now add a third reliable entity: i will see a humpback whale when off the coast of a former portuguese colony during the summer olympics. on our return today, i just happened to be looking out the portside window when a huge humpback emerged, then re-submerged about 15 meters away from the boat. i got a glimpse of torso, a tease of tail, then ran out to the back deck but was not treated to another glimpse. four years ago, i got to see a pod flirt with our scuba boat off the coast of moçambique. então, if you're dying to see one from the water (and you really should), follow me to angola in 2012.
until then, boa noite e boa sorte
the past couple days of radio silence were a factor of our stay on the tropical ilha of morro de são paulo. two hours south of salvador by boat, it was a breath of fresh air for a couple weary travelers, and even inspired a few pensamentos:
filmadoras e da praia
seriously? you're going to film people (that you don't know) laying on their backs, doing nothing, on the beach? you are either about to bore the shit out of everyone at your next dinner party, or should not live within 500 yards of a school. perhaps both?
agora contratar
one of the least desirable, though perhaps most respectable and necessary, of occupations must be that of boat puke-bag collector. those two hours between salvador and morro de são paulo, e então the island and salvador had to be among the most miserable for a considerable number of our fellow passageiros. on our return earlier today, the boat mostly rocked from bow to stern, while starboard and port joined in on the action for our first trip. standing there, the calm in the eye of the storm, was our trusty puke-bag collector. he would occasionally stand there and survey the thirty odd passengers to see who needed fresh air, who had filled their bag, or just to put the luggage that had been thrown across the cabin back where it had been originally.
sugestões
next time you are threatened with a case of seasickness, remember that chewing gum or sucking on a lime can be of assistance (the former helped me wednesday). however, watching olympic highlight montages featuring gymnasts, divers, or anyone else who spins, twirls, jumps, flips, rotates, etc. may exacerbate the situation. sejam cuidadosos, my friends.
almoço
finally! found a reasonable deal for lunch. on the main drag, leading down to the beach, were a handful of establishments serving 10 reais platos. my dish of choice: moqueca do siri. basically a flavorful west african stew, this variety served with crab, mixed with tomatoes and various vegetables and spices, served alongside rice, manioc, ensalada, and feijão (bean and meat stew) on the side. add the spicy (really) green stuff.....yum.
assinar
if the thumbs-up display has the same translation as it does in the states, these are some of the nicest people on earth. if it translates to the equivalent of showing the middle finger, i pretty much hate everyone in brasil.
chuva
while noone likes it when it rains on vacation, i can't help but remain upbeat despite many consecutive days of the damp stuff. it has never really fallen consistently, but yesterday (our only full day on the praia) was one of the only ones that was nearly entirely dry. even when it did fall, its composition was less than drizzle and it descended from a sunny, cloudless sky. i'm alright with that.
barco, novamente
to death and taxes, we must now add a third reliable entity: i will see a humpback whale when off the coast of a former portuguese colony during the summer olympics. on our return today, i just happened to be looking out the portside window when a huge humpback emerged, then re-submerged about 15 meters away from the boat. i got a glimpse of torso, a tease of tail, then ran out to the back deck but was not treated to another glimpse. four years ago, i got to see a pod flirt with our scuba boat off the coast of moçambique. então, if you're dying to see one from the water (and you really should), follow me to angola in 2012.
until then, boa noite e boa sorte
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
lamento
praça da se, salvador da bahia
for those of you that: 1) know me and 2) have been to salvador, will you kindly allow me to kill your buzz?
for all that i heard about this tropical city, this home of capoeira, this birthplace of bahian culture, i was expecting a go-and-never-come-back type destination. instead: eh. before you indulge me in my negative elaborations, keep in mind that i have only been here for three days and don't really know any locals.
for one, we are staying near the pelourinho. the architecture is wonderful and the history is soberingly fascinating, but it fits every definition of a tourist trap (my definition definitely includes any place that sells t-shirts with cheesily localized top ten lists). each block offers a multitude of capoeira pant purchase opportunities and the restaurants where staff beckons you to dine at their establishment in full costume. add the street kids and you have a sick version of disneyland.
the history of the peculiar institution makes this place even more uncomfortable. as i remarked in my previous post, i am glad that it is not pushed under the rug. but still, do the waiters and waitresses need to wear head garments while standing with their hands behind their backs? i know that capoeira originated here, but does the town center really need five studios and performances in every public space? i also haven't missed the irony that at a place where people were once bought and sold, there are people who are being bought and sold. that, or else the beautiful, young, local women i see at all these bars lust after middle-aged, potbellied, balding gringos. stranger things have happened, i suppose.
to get to the grande questão: is this the local culture, or just the local niche within the global order? if there were not cameras and gringos, dollars and reias, would you still be banging the drums in the praça da se? do you really want to make replications of beautiful paintings and wood carvings all day? i wanted to come to salvador to see all these things, but not to be clubbed over the head by them.
to avoid being entirely negative, there have been some peaks as well. the olodum show (dozens of young percussionists, dozens of vibrant line-dancers, hundreds swaying to the beat) was out of this world. the são joaquim market (you can buy a peacock!) was a trip. and, i have moderate-to-high expectations for what's going to go down in the terreiro de jesus tonight.
yet, all the praise i have heard for salvador is developing an insecurity within me: do i not know how to travel? am i not cool? why don't i get it? or, did i just come a little too late? i'll let you judge that one and chalk it all up to staying in the wrong part of town. anyway, i'm glad that there are so many others who have enjoyed themselves here, except those who have purchased humans for the fields or the bed, depending on the era.
atenção gringos com dreadlocks: i don't care how long they are, how many hemp harvests it took to make that shirt, or that you made your own jewelry; you look like as much of a tourist as a middle-aged japanese businessman in a sun hat with a ten-inch superzoom lens on his nikon.
for those of you that: 1) know me and 2) have been to salvador, will you kindly allow me to kill your buzz?
for all that i heard about this tropical city, this home of capoeira, this birthplace of bahian culture, i was expecting a go-and-never-come-back type destination. instead: eh. before you indulge me in my negative elaborations, keep in mind that i have only been here for three days and don't really know any locals.
for one, we are staying near the pelourinho. the architecture is wonderful and the history is soberingly fascinating, but it fits every definition of a tourist trap (my definition definitely includes any place that sells t-shirts with cheesily localized top ten lists). each block offers a multitude of capoeira pant purchase opportunities and the restaurants where staff beckons you to dine at their establishment in full costume. add the street kids and you have a sick version of disneyland.
the history of the peculiar institution makes this place even more uncomfortable. as i remarked in my previous post, i am glad that it is not pushed under the rug. but still, do the waiters and waitresses need to wear head garments while standing with their hands behind their backs? i know that capoeira originated here, but does the town center really need five studios and performances in every public space? i also haven't missed the irony that at a place where people were once bought and sold, there are people who are being bought and sold. that, or else the beautiful, young, local women i see at all these bars lust after middle-aged, potbellied, balding gringos. stranger things have happened, i suppose.
to get to the grande questão: is this the local culture, or just the local niche within the global order? if there were not cameras and gringos, dollars and reias, would you still be banging the drums in the praça da se? do you really want to make replications of beautiful paintings and wood carvings all day? i wanted to come to salvador to see all these things, but not to be clubbed over the head by them.
to avoid being entirely negative, there have been some peaks as well. the olodum show (dozens of young percussionists, dozens of vibrant line-dancers, hundreds swaying to the beat) was out of this world. the são joaquim market (you can buy a peacock!) was a trip. and, i have moderate-to-high expectations for what's going to go down in the terreiro de jesus tonight.
yet, all the praise i have heard for salvador is developing an insecurity within me: do i not know how to travel? am i not cool? why don't i get it? or, did i just come a little too late? i'll let you judge that one and chalk it all up to staying in the wrong part of town. anyway, i'm glad that there are so many others who have enjoyed themselves here, except those who have purchased humans for the fields or the bed, depending on the era.
atenção gringos com dreadlocks: i don't care how long they are, how many hemp harvests it took to make that shirt, or that you made your own jewelry; you look like as much of a tourist as a middle-aged japanese businessman in a sun hat with a ten-inch superzoom lens on his nikon.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
pelourinho
praça da sé, salvador da bahia
what do chocolate, sugar, coffee, and tobacco all have in common? besides a presence on every corner in brussels, these agricultural products and the waves with which they flourished help produce a city, region, and a colony. their dark side goes beyond diabetes, stained teeth, and emphysema: they are also the reason that african slaves were brought to brazil in staggering numbers.
the estados unidos infamous current president remarked to the brazilian president, 'i didn't know you had black people here, too' on a state visit years ago. well, for anyone about to take the reins of the world's largest economy, or who just has general interest, it does.
salvador is a bitterly intoxicating city. this was the location where slaves were unloaded, held, sold, and punished (the nearby district, pelourinho, is portuguese for whipping post). it is also the home to cobblestone streets, beautiful plazas, and gorgeous baroque architecture. underneath all of it is that easily detected something-happened-here presence.
but unlike charleston, which does everything to bury this history in its veneer of fort sumter shot glasses and refrigerator magnets, salvador doesn't even really try. for one, the city and region are still host to west african languages, religious rites, wear, and food among other cultural customs. the presence of these has been used to attract travelers to the region, which has somewhat alleviated the dearth of other industry.
we are about to head out to hear a local gathering of percussionists, and am sure that the next few days may be able to yield some capoeira and maybe a candomble ceremony. vamos a ver. until then, i suppose we'll just relish a culture that doesn't ignore the elephant in the room. but still, that elephant's going to need a lot more peanuts.
post scripto. t-shirt seen today:
what do chocolate, sugar, coffee, and tobacco all have in common? besides a presence on every corner in brussels, these agricultural products and the waves with which they flourished help produce a city, region, and a colony. their dark side goes beyond diabetes, stained teeth, and emphysema: they are also the reason that african slaves were brought to brazil in staggering numbers.
the estados unidos infamous current president remarked to the brazilian president, 'i didn't know you had black people here, too' on a state visit years ago. well, for anyone about to take the reins of the world's largest economy, or who just has general interest, it does.
salvador is a bitterly intoxicating city. this was the location where slaves were unloaded, held, sold, and punished (the nearby district, pelourinho, is portuguese for whipping post). it is also the home to cobblestone streets, beautiful plazas, and gorgeous baroque architecture. underneath all of it is that easily detected something-happened-here presence.
but unlike charleston, which does everything to bury this history in its veneer of fort sumter shot glasses and refrigerator magnets, salvador doesn't even really try. for one, the city and region are still host to west african languages, religious rites, wear, and food among other cultural customs. the presence of these has been used to attract travelers to the region, which has somewhat alleviated the dearth of other industry.
we are about to head out to hear a local gathering of percussionists, and am sure that the next few days may be able to yield some capoeira and maybe a candomble ceremony. vamos a ver. until then, i suppose we'll just relish a culture that doesn't ignore the elephant in the room. but still, that elephant's going to need a lot more peanuts.
post scripto. t-shirt seen today:
20% indio
30% blanco
50% negro
100% brasiliero
Thursday, August 7, 2008
aleatória
santa teresa, rio de janeiro
pequeno mundo
monday, approximately 1900hs: lonely planet lists dozens of hostels, pousadas, and hotels in rio, supplemented by hundreds of other establishments not mentioned. there must be thousands of beds in rio, while rio hostel (our digs) has around twenty. it is up this winding road in santa teresa, far from the more common destinations of copacabana and ipanema, that a young man with a surfboard under one arm and broken portuguese on his tongue entered our place. gringo, for sure. he went to his room, came out, then looked at me and said, 'you look familiar'. that's cause we lifeguarded together at piney creek swimming pool in aurora, colorado eleven years ago. we didn't have much in common then and it took us all of fifteen minutes to catch up. still, i posit that if you're walking around rio de janeiro with a surfboard, you must be doing something right in the crazy game of life.
tuesday, approximately 1415hs: there is a beach not mentioned specifically in our 750-page guide book. you take the s20 bus to its terminus (or, perhaps, to a volkswagen dealership close to its terminus where you can do the awkward i-have-to-pee dance in the lobby while you try to ask permission to use the bathroom from the salesman, in portuguese, a language you don`t speak, of course). you then go under a highway for a kilometer, then turn at the fork in the road into a nature preserve, then another kilometer till you come across the most pristine beach you could imagine. i was walking along that deserted beach, sharing it with scarcely thirty other souls, in that isolated nature reserve twenty-five km from rio, when i heard my name called from the two lane road just behind. my good pal marc mousky, passing through on the scenic route.
barganha
for those of you looking to travel with your young'uns on a budget, rio may be a contender. the public buses have turnstiles that are only activated by a magnetic card that the cashier (yes, the buses have cashiers) holds. just as they are accountable for matching the turns of the turnstile with their register, they are not accountable for when it does not turn. então, in the past few days we have seen kids climb over the turnstile, others slide under, while many more (including a grandmother) held their not-so-little little ones through a waist-high turnstile on swaying buses going over cobblestone streets. or, you could just budget the extra 2,10 reias (us$1.50).
obrigado, george
our guide book, published in january of this year, lists the exchange rate between reias and dollars at just shy of 2:1. it has fallen by close to 25%. this is in large part due to the strength of the brazilian economy, blessed with verdant soils in times of high commodity prices and being by-and-large immune to the worldwide bursting of the mortgage bubble. additionally, they have found large reserves of oil off the coast (coincidentally, the us would like to increase its naval presence in these seas...hmmmm......) which should auger well for at least the next decade.
at the same time, the us economy (has anyone heard this?) is tanking thanks to many factors. então, the value of the host currency is appreciating while mine is six months away from turning into kindling. wonder why i'm hearing a lot more british accents and german in the hostels and restaurants?
pequeno mundo
monday, approximately 1900hs: lonely planet lists dozens of hostels, pousadas, and hotels in rio, supplemented by hundreds of other establishments not mentioned. there must be thousands of beds in rio, while rio hostel (our digs) has around twenty. it is up this winding road in santa teresa, far from the more common destinations of copacabana and ipanema, that a young man with a surfboard under one arm and broken portuguese on his tongue entered our place. gringo, for sure. he went to his room, came out, then looked at me and said, 'you look familiar'. that's cause we lifeguarded together at piney creek swimming pool in aurora, colorado eleven years ago. we didn't have much in common then and it took us all of fifteen minutes to catch up. still, i posit that if you're walking around rio de janeiro with a surfboard, you must be doing something right in the crazy game of life.
tuesday, approximately 1415hs: there is a beach not mentioned specifically in our 750-page guide book. you take the s20 bus to its terminus (or, perhaps, to a volkswagen dealership close to its terminus where you can do the awkward i-have-to-pee dance in the lobby while you try to ask permission to use the bathroom from the salesman, in portuguese, a language you don`t speak, of course). you then go under a highway for a kilometer, then turn at the fork in the road into a nature preserve, then another kilometer till you come across the most pristine beach you could imagine. i was walking along that deserted beach, sharing it with scarcely thirty other souls, in that isolated nature reserve twenty-five km from rio, when i heard my name called from the two lane road just behind. my good pal marc mousky, passing through on the scenic route.
barganha
for those of you looking to travel with your young'uns on a budget, rio may be a contender. the public buses have turnstiles that are only activated by a magnetic card that the cashier (yes, the buses have cashiers) holds. just as they are accountable for matching the turns of the turnstile with their register, they are not accountable for when it does not turn. então, in the past few days we have seen kids climb over the turnstile, others slide under, while many more (including a grandmother) held their not-so-little little ones through a waist-high turnstile on swaying buses going over cobblestone streets. or, you could just budget the extra 2,10 reias (us$1.50).
obrigado, george
our guide book, published in january of this year, lists the exchange rate between reias and dollars at just shy of 2:1. it has fallen by close to 25%. this is in large part due to the strength of the brazilian economy, blessed with verdant soils in times of high commodity prices and being by-and-large immune to the worldwide bursting of the mortgage bubble. additionally, they have found large reserves of oil off the coast (coincidentally, the us would like to increase its naval presence in these seas...hmmmm......) which should auger well for at least the next decade.
at the same time, the us economy (has anyone heard this?) is tanking thanks to many factors. então, the value of the host currency is appreciating while mine is six months away from turning into kindling. wonder why i'm hearing a lot more british accents and german in the hostels and restaurants?
Monday, August 4, 2008
rocinho
santa teresa, rio de janeiro
200,000 people call it home and for two hours rocinho, rio de janeiro`s largest favela, called me its guest. we were participants in the latest wave of slum tourism, where locals guide westerners through the neighborhoods where they live. we obviously stand out, we obviously don`t belong, and the merits of this travel trend are highly debated. from my one experience today, and from previous experiences staying in other slums, i think i side on its defense.
marcelo picked us up at our hostel around 9 and drove us and about ten other hungover gringos to the rocinho entrance. from there, we hopped on the back of our personal motorcyclist to wind up to the top of the favela. we were provided a little background, a little overview of the tour, and advised not to take pictures until we had descended at least half the way. por que? because the masked man with the walkie-talkie and the guys sitting with automatic rifles are a little camera shy. ok, works for me.
we descended past maskie, and one gunman, through the top-half of the favela. we made a couple requisite stops to see an artists work, smell the baker`s creations, and see young kids drum on buckets and oil cans. all impressive, sure, but the real show was just being there. we snaked through the favela on a concrete path no wider than a meter which was never straight for more than fifteen meters. it wove past shops and homes and barbershops and bars and anything you could imagine. people walked by, or were chatting nearby, and though they never exactly welcomed us, you could say they were tacitly open to our presence. all of it was a sensoral, if sobering, feast.
as for the myths and legends, i cannot really confirm or deny any preconceptions based on a short, arranged trip. what is known is that the people live there because they have been priced out of the rio real estate market and maintain a codependent relationship with the cities economy. rio`s restaurants, shops, and basic services cannot be run without the denizens from the hills. at the same time, the lucrative drug trade is run out of the favelas, to profits that run in the billions of u.s. dollars por mês. this money goes into the hands of gangs, who redistribute some of it to reside in the goodwill of its residents. these residents include children, who usually grow up to lionize gangs and their members because it is the gangs, not the government, that they perceive to receive protection from. this is partially from their propagandist advertising and sloganing, but also because when the policia storm the favela, it is the gang that is behaving as the protector.
we descended past maskie, and one gunman, through the top-half of the favela. we made a couple requisite stops to see an artists work, smell the baker`s creations, and see young kids drum on buckets and oil cans. all impressive, sure, but the real show was just being there. we snaked through the favela on a concrete path no wider than a meter which was never straight for more than fifteen meters. it wove past shops and homes and barbershops and bars and anything you could imagine. people walked by, or were chatting nearby, and though they never exactly welcomed us, you could say they were tacitly open to our presence. all of it was a sensoral, if sobering, feast.
as for the myths and legends, i cannot really confirm or deny any preconceptions based on a short, arranged trip. what is known is that the people live there because they have been priced out of the rio real estate market and maintain a codependent relationship with the cities economy. rio`s restaurants, shops, and basic services cannot be run without the denizens from the hills. at the same time, the lucrative drug trade is run out of the favelas, to profits that run in the billions of u.s. dollars por mês. this money goes into the hands of gangs, who redistribute some of it to reside in the goodwill of its residents. these residents include children, who usually grow up to lionize gangs and their members because it is the gangs, not the government, that they perceive to receive protection from. this is partially from their propagandist advertising and sloganing, but also because when the policia storm the favela, it is the gang that is behaving as the protector.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
pagode
santa teresa, rio de janeiro
nested in the hills above the business district, santa teresa seemed like a perfect fit with its cobblestone streets, trolley cars, and bohemian roots. while guide book-fueled aspirations and reality are usually different beasts, i must say that tonight, the latter exceeded the former to the greatest extent i`ve ever experienced.
it was a simple walk up a hill. a hill that would lead to some sort of food, some sort of ambiance. maybe there`d be a candle, maybe some cool new type of tree. who would know? halfway up that hill we discovered an intersection that was hosting the kind of spontaneous backyard samba party straight out of central casting. picture a politically correct mcdonalds or coca-cola commericial featuring people too cool to ever patronize either globalized entity. there were white bearded guys (my people!), black people with `fros (with you in spirit!), and just about everyone in between. all ages were present, and if they were too young to groove they were sent to that universal place that means i-don`t-care-what-you-do-just-don`t-interrumpt-me-while-i`m-groovin.
there was an eight-piece band, nearly everyone sitting, and a crowd that seemed to sway with every subtle note. the guide book says that we stumbled upon pagode, a mellow version of samba that was derived in the 70s. picture elevator music from africa. it was the kind of music that you rotate your shoulders to, maybe your hips on the faster numbers. nearly everyone sang along in a gentle yet passionate hum to the majority of the songs. basically, it was the kind of neighborhood barbecue or family reunion where even the teenagers are dying to be present.
rioisms:
if rio were a person without arms, it would wear a tank top.
rio takes the last bite of your food, then tells you how good it tasted.
if rio were a woman, it would be a very tan helen of troy.....with a 3-inch scar from a knife fight on her left cheek.
if your sister or daughter brought rio home, you would never approve. but he`d make a pretty cool uncle.
rio sings (and dances) in line at the bank.
rio smokes a joint at the company picnic.
rio swerves his motorcycle through the 30-car pileup, without batting an eye.
rio spikes the punch at parent-teacher night.
if rio were an eighth-grader, it would steal your lunch money and then share the doritos it bought with you.
rio wears a tubetop to court and walks away with only a fine.
rio is the loudest person in the room without saying a word.
if rio were in the u.s. it would be........brooklyn (fort greene)!
nested in the hills above the business district, santa teresa seemed like a perfect fit with its cobblestone streets, trolley cars, and bohemian roots. while guide book-fueled aspirations and reality are usually different beasts, i must say that tonight, the latter exceeded the former to the greatest extent i`ve ever experienced.
it was a simple walk up a hill. a hill that would lead to some sort of food, some sort of ambiance. maybe there`d be a candle, maybe some cool new type of tree. who would know? halfway up that hill we discovered an intersection that was hosting the kind of spontaneous backyard samba party straight out of central casting. picture a politically correct mcdonalds or coca-cola commericial featuring people too cool to ever patronize either globalized entity. there were white bearded guys (my people!), black people with `fros (with you in spirit!), and just about everyone in between. all ages were present, and if they were too young to groove they were sent to that universal place that means i-don`t-care-what-you-do-just-don`t-interrumpt-me-while-i`m-groovin.
there was an eight-piece band, nearly everyone sitting, and a crowd that seemed to sway with every subtle note. the guide book says that we stumbled upon pagode, a mellow version of samba that was derived in the 70s. picture elevator music from africa. it was the kind of music that you rotate your shoulders to, maybe your hips on the faster numbers. nearly everyone sang along in a gentle yet passionate hum to the majority of the songs. basically, it was the kind of neighborhood barbecue or family reunion where even the teenagers are dying to be present.
rioisms:
if rio were a person without arms, it would wear a tank top.
rio takes the last bite of your food, then tells you how good it tasted.
if rio were a woman, it would be a very tan helen of troy.....with a 3-inch scar from a knife fight on her left cheek.
if your sister or daughter brought rio home, you would never approve. but he`d make a pretty cool uncle.
rio sings (and dances) in line at the bank.
rio smokes a joint at the company picnic.
rio swerves his motorcycle through the 30-car pileup, without batting an eye.
rio spikes the punch at parent-teacher night.
if rio were an eighth-grader, it would steal your lunch money and then share the doritos it bought with you.
rio wears a tubetop to court and walks away with only a fine.
rio is the loudest person in the room without saying a word.
if rio were in the u.s. it would be........brooklyn (fort greene)!
Saturday, August 2, 2008
primeiras impressões
santa teresa, rio de janeiro
keep in mind that all that follows is based upon less than 24 hours of observation.
geografia: if the geographical entities that are cape town and san francisco were to have a love child, it would be rio.
forma urbana: if miami were to impregnate the urban sprawl of los angeles, it would roughly produce rio.
linguagem:
keep in mind that all that follows is based upon less than 24 hours of observation.
geografia: if the geographical entities that are cape town and san francisco were to have a love child, it would be rio.
forma urbana: if miami were to impregnate the urban sprawl of los angeles, it would roughly produce rio.
linguagem:
- senhoras: take a female from the most remote province of china, teach them spanish until they attained fluency, and they would roughly sound like a brazilian portuguese speaker.
- homens: take a native finnish speaker, teach them spanish until fluency, and you would rouhly have the male equivalent.
pessoas: if the world`s beauty were to have a greatest hits collection, rio would be on the cover.
outro: if miami were to undergo reconstructive surgery (i.e. execute everyone in south beach, wrecking balls, hand title of land to residents of little haiti/little cuba, etc.), it could potentially become rio.
mistério: knowing a little about world history, one can`t help but wonder why a country filled with descendants from every continent, many of whom are living in poverty, haven`t had a massive uprising/sectarian violence?
resposta: because they`re so damn beautiful, they inhabit the most beautiful land, and have a healthy supply of soccer balls.
praia ipanema: take waikiki beach, put it next to ocean drive, enforce the alcohol policy of las vegas (minus the age restrictions, of course), and add an endless venezualan flea market.
if rio were a fourth grader, it would be the boy that has dated every hot chic in school, smokes cigarettes, and dominates field day.
if rio were a mixed drink, it would be a guava capirinha: you couldn`t quite describe its ingredients or where it came from, but you do know that it knocks you off your ass. and you`re thinking about ordering another.....
Thursday, July 31, 2008
el comienzo proximo
la boca, buenos aires
with the maletas more or less packed and that brasil visa glaring at me from the middle of my passport, it's become apparent that i'm about to leave this great city. we will be returning for a couple noches before returning stateside, but this may as well be the swan song for this experience. after all, work has ended, a few other gringos have already returned, and a pocketful of goodbyes have already been bid. entonces, figure i'd offer a bit of a resumen for the surface-level matter that i accomplished:
trabajo: after many twists and turns, it feels like we may have created some sort of value-added contribution to our dear friend carlos. a little video we created (link forthcoming) featuring students explaining the innovations of carlos was a hit and may get some airtime in multiple forums. we also compiled some figures and facts that carlos may use to demonstrate the economic-efficiency of his plan, as well as a translation for an upcoming presentation from carlostellano. i learned a lot and definitely took more from the table than i brought, but i am a student and know that this is my role. for now.
fotografia: the photography project, otra mirada, was completed and am proud that my bag will be 4 pounds heavier from ten developed rolls of film. while there're no ansel adams in the group (i deserve a year's bad karma for that, but it's true), many of these kids now have what may be the only photographic evidence of their childhood.
castellano: i finished harry potter y la camara secreta and am making remarkable progress in harry potter y el caliz de fuego. in a one-on-one situation or classroom setting i can pretty much understand all that's being said, but still bear the closest resemblance to the speak-no-evil monkey. or, more apt, the butcher-grammatic-rules-and-move-your-hands-a-lot monkey.
diversa: i've made a ton of new friends, ate sausage every day, got hit in the head by a street crazy (everything's okay, mom), made empanadas, ate empanadas, danced at a boliche, danced in a villa, played futbol with kids, drank mate like an uruguayo, got a research assistanceship for the upcoming semester ($$$, no, actually $), memorized bus routes, had way too much coffee, attended protests, went bowling, stared out bus windows, pondered graffiti, pondered paintings, reached second in my fantasy baseball league, laughed, worn shoes two sizes too small for an entire evening, searched kilometers for bus change, chilled, gave up bus seats to old ladies, thought, carried my ingles-castellano dictionary around way too much, been a tourist, been mistaken for a local, loved, learned, discovered that if you sit next to the window on the bus you won't have to give up your seat to the elderly, hated, dreamed, cursed out buses and cellphones, walked, walked, walked and forgave a street crazy who hit me in the head (same one).
mañana: brasil
gracias buenos aires. gracias a vos
with the maletas more or less packed and that brasil visa glaring at me from the middle of my passport, it's become apparent that i'm about to leave this great city. we will be returning for a couple noches before returning stateside, but this may as well be the swan song for this experience. after all, work has ended, a few other gringos have already returned, and a pocketful of goodbyes have already been bid. entonces, figure i'd offer a bit of a resumen for the surface-level matter that i accomplished:
trabajo: after many twists and turns, it feels like we may have created some sort of value-added contribution to our dear friend carlos. a little video we created (link forthcoming) featuring students explaining the innovations of carlos was a hit and may get some airtime in multiple forums. we also compiled some figures and facts that carlos may use to demonstrate the economic-efficiency of his plan, as well as a translation for an upcoming presentation from carlostellano. i learned a lot and definitely took more from the table than i brought, but i am a student and know that this is my role. for now.
fotografia: the photography project, otra mirada, was completed and am proud that my bag will be 4 pounds heavier from ten developed rolls of film. while there're no ansel adams in the group (i deserve a year's bad karma for that, but it's true), many of these kids now have what may be the only photographic evidence of their childhood.
castellano: i finished harry potter y la camara secreta and am making remarkable progress in harry potter y el caliz de fuego. in a one-on-one situation or classroom setting i can pretty much understand all that's being said, but still bear the closest resemblance to the speak-no-evil monkey. or, more apt, the butcher-grammatic-rules-and-move-your-hands-a-lot monkey.
diversa: i've made a ton of new friends, ate sausage every day, got hit in the head by a street crazy (everything's okay, mom), made empanadas, ate empanadas, danced at a boliche, danced in a villa, played futbol with kids, drank mate like an uruguayo, got a research assistanceship for the upcoming semester ($$$, no, actually $), memorized bus routes, had way too much coffee, attended protests, went bowling, stared out bus windows, pondered graffiti, pondered paintings, reached second in my fantasy baseball league, laughed, worn shoes two sizes too small for an entire evening, searched kilometers for bus change, chilled, gave up bus seats to old ladies, thought, carried my ingles-castellano dictionary around way too much, been a tourist, been mistaken for a local, loved, learned, discovered that if you sit next to the window on the bus you won't have to give up your seat to the elderly, hated, dreamed, cursed out buses and cellphones, walked, walked, walked and forgave a street crazy who hit me in the head (same one).
mañana: brasil
gracias buenos aires. gracias a vos
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
puerto madero
la boca, buenos aires
i love cities. love them. that's why i've lived in new york for three years, chicago for one, and aspire to visit every two horse town from ouro preto to ouagadougou. but, after time, the need for fresh air and lack of civilization becomes a necessity after a subte ride or diesel exhaust inhalation too many. therefore, i was delighted to finally realize a trip to nearby puerto madero today and lament the fact that i did not do so sooner.
puerto madero is the tylenol-capsule shaped island due east of the microcentro and the heart of buenos aires business and political ado. it was designed almost entirely out of excavated tierra and previous generations waste to provide a new and improved port over a century ago. it's size was quickly determined to be too small for such shipping needs and thus relegated to being the geographic elephant in the conurbana. what has happened since is that half of the island (closest to the microcentro) contains high-rise condos and kitschy multinational retailers (come here for tgi fridays), while the other half contains the reserva ecologica costanera sur. guess which one i went to? (hint: the one without jalapeño poppers)
entonces, we walked for a couple kilometers to where the reserva meets the rio de la plata. it is amazing that a city built entirely adjacent to a river almost entirely neglects its geographic jewel, but the sight of the casi-blue water was a reminder of this. there was something so refreshing about staring into the great vastness of the river, how it extends to the ocean, and all that lies beyond.........hasta que a class full of boys arrived at the river and did what they do best: they threw rocks. about twenty of them, none older than twelve, stood at the rocky orilla and threw pebbles, stones, rocks, and boulders into the great river. few of them rested for the ten minutes we were near them, tirelessly dedicating themselves to this pointless task. i've been searching since for the metaphor to this behavior and have simply settled on this adage: sometimes it's fun to throw rocks.
marinate on that for a minute.
i love cities. love them. that's why i've lived in new york for three years, chicago for one, and aspire to visit every two horse town from ouro preto to ouagadougou. but, after time, the need for fresh air and lack of civilization becomes a necessity after a subte ride or diesel exhaust inhalation too many. therefore, i was delighted to finally realize a trip to nearby puerto madero today and lament the fact that i did not do so sooner.
puerto madero is the tylenol-capsule shaped island due east of the microcentro and the heart of buenos aires business and political ado. it was designed almost entirely out of excavated tierra and previous generations waste to provide a new and improved port over a century ago. it's size was quickly determined to be too small for such shipping needs and thus relegated to being the geographic elephant in the conurbana. what has happened since is that half of the island (closest to the microcentro) contains high-rise condos and kitschy multinational retailers (come here for tgi fridays), while the other half contains the reserva ecologica costanera sur. guess which one i went to? (hint: the one without jalapeño poppers)
entonces, we walked for a couple kilometers to where the reserva meets the rio de la plata. it is amazing that a city built entirely adjacent to a river almost entirely neglects its geographic jewel, but the sight of the casi-blue water was a reminder of this. there was something so refreshing about staring into the great vastness of the river, how it extends to the ocean, and all that lies beyond.........hasta que a class full of boys arrived at the river and did what they do best: they threw rocks. about twenty of them, none older than twelve, stood at the rocky orilla and threw pebbles, stones, rocks, and boulders into the great river. few of them rested for the ten minutes we were near them, tirelessly dedicating themselves to this pointless task. i've been searching since for the metaphor to this behavior and have simply settled on this adage: sometimes it's fun to throw rocks.
marinate on that for a minute.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
barrio asuncion
la boca, buenos aires
not too far as the crow flies, but a couple of bridges and 20 km or so on the autopista brought us to another world today. while everybody knows the terms first-world (now known as developed) and third-world (now least developed), there is a lot of confusion about the significance of the term second-world (now developing). argentina, along with brazil, china, mexico, and india share this classification that suggests a healthy supply of both poles. here this is manifested in the buzzing palermo restaurants, emaculate museums, healthy infrastructure, and considerably large middle-class. while north american, european, and a select other set of countries are not lacking in poverty, they do not have it to the immense scale that we were immersed in today. it was, as expected, one of the most memorable days that i will have here.
the other groups had visited this villa miseria before, but as this is our final weekend together it was suggested that we go to barrio asuncion for a good culminating experience. the locals met us and we were quickly positioned to help them make empanadas. i took one of the rollers, some assumed the role of stuffers and others folders, and after an hour we went outside as they put the hundreds we had made into el horno. we returned a half-hour later, stuffed our faces and had a glass of vino tinto along with about a dozen local residents. i had a warm chat with an elder gentleman from tucuman during the empanada gorge, but the best bonding came after the meal.
one of our counterparts, juan, brought out his guitar and serenaded us along with his sons (approximate ages 5 and 9). they sang those songs. you know, those songs that you might hear if you bought that cheesy argentina classics cd at the airport. those songs that the three piece band tries to play for you at the restaurant, so you turn your head and pretend not to listen. but, before those songs make it to the tourist circuit, they are written and played and sung in places like barrio asuncion. they are about life and all that it is lacking, about love and all that it fulfills. maybe it was the food coma from the empanadas, maybe it was the sharp sunlight pouring through that front door, but there was something that told me that we heard those songs the way they were meant to be heard.
a little futbol, a little dancing, a little photograph posing and we said goodbye. but i feel like i left with a reinforcement for the working mantra i always hope to have: help those with the least to get a little bit more. but help them get more while maintaining the same spirit and culture they already have.
suerte for both.
not too far as the crow flies, but a couple of bridges and 20 km or so on the autopista brought us to another world today. while everybody knows the terms first-world (now known as developed) and third-world (now least developed), there is a lot of confusion about the significance of the term second-world (now developing). argentina, along with brazil, china, mexico, and india share this classification that suggests a healthy supply of both poles. here this is manifested in the buzzing palermo restaurants, emaculate museums, healthy infrastructure, and considerably large middle-class. while north american, european, and a select other set of countries are not lacking in poverty, they do not have it to the immense scale that we were immersed in today. it was, as expected, one of the most memorable days that i will have here.
the other groups had visited this villa miseria before, but as this is our final weekend together it was suggested that we go to barrio asuncion for a good culminating experience. the locals met us and we were quickly positioned to help them make empanadas. i took one of the rollers, some assumed the role of stuffers and others folders, and after an hour we went outside as they put the hundreds we had made into el horno. we returned a half-hour later, stuffed our faces and had a glass of vino tinto along with about a dozen local residents. i had a warm chat with an elder gentleman from tucuman during the empanada gorge, but the best bonding came after the meal.
one of our counterparts, juan, brought out his guitar and serenaded us along with his sons (approximate ages 5 and 9). they sang those songs. you know, those songs that you might hear if you bought that cheesy argentina classics cd at the airport. those songs that the three piece band tries to play for you at the restaurant, so you turn your head and pretend not to listen. but, before those songs make it to the tourist circuit, they are written and played and sung in places like barrio asuncion. they are about life and all that it is lacking, about love and all that it fulfills. maybe it was the food coma from the empanadas, maybe it was the sharp sunlight pouring through that front door, but there was something that told me that we heard those songs the way they were meant to be heard.
a little futbol, a little dancing, a little photograph posing and we said goodbye. but i feel like i left with a reinforcement for the working mantra i always hope to have: help those with the least to get a little bit more. but help them get more while maintaining the same spirit and culture they already have.
suerte for both.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
los desaparecidos
palermo, buenos aires
like it or not, we're down to single digits. what was once two months has become a little over a week remaining in this great city, and a little less than two hours before delivering our final presentation. nearing the end of any experience makes an hombre nostalgic for what he has seen, learned, heard, and tasted, if not for what he has stepped in (twice). undergoing this reflective process has led to the realization that i will be bringing at least one cosa back with me that had not been there before: my thesis.
without divulging the exact focus of what my thesis will be (which i will start this semester), i've decided that it has to be on one of the subjects that has enthralled me since i arrived: los desaparacidos. this is the term given to the over 30,000 who were kidnapped, tortured, imprisoned, and/or (though usually and) killed three decades ago. starting under the second coming of juan peron (yes, that one, post evita) in 1976, it was the classic orwellian process of muting people who disagree with you. this epoch was continued and escalated through the military junta that ruled argentina until 1983, when they were humbly crushed in the falklands war.
the details are not too pretty. military police, escorted in ford falcons, would drive around by night to kidnap suspected subversives. they were usually taken to one of any number of locations, tortured for any relevant information they had, then thrown out of a helicopter into the sleepy rio de la plata when they were no longer needed. while the world is not lacking for examples of atrocities, this one has hit a little close to home. for one, i am here. for another, there is a giant banner at fadu with over 100 pictures of students, professors, or others affiliated with the university who disappeared during that time. at the bottom, it reads siempre presente.
and that's how it is. whenever you meet an argentino/a over the age of 45, you are meeting someone who was at least old enough to have been a student during this time. they may have had to bite their tongue in order to survive. they most definitely know someone who simply vanished. they may have quit their job, left their spouse, moved, or done any number of measures to outlive an enemy state. they may have even been a torturer themselves. so, there is this eerie feeling that whenever you meet someone in middle-age or above (40 may be the new 30, but is it still middle-age? you can send hate mail if you think i'm being ageist), you are not only meeting them. you are meeting everyone who didn't get the opportunity to continue because of someone else's insecurity.
entonces, as someone who does not always agree with his government and is not too shy to make note of it, this period is illuminating. not only for the tragedies, but for the three decades of inconsistency in the argentine socio-economic reality since it decided to purge itself of 30,000 of its most brilliant minds. in the cases of the tragedy and its aftermath, i believe that i would most likely have been involved in the former.
i hope that my upcoming thesis will help propagate the message selected by the argentine national commission of the disappeared: nunca mas.
like it or not, we're down to single digits. what was once two months has become a little over a week remaining in this great city, and a little less than two hours before delivering our final presentation. nearing the end of any experience makes an hombre nostalgic for what he has seen, learned, heard, and tasted, if not for what he has stepped in (twice). undergoing this reflective process has led to the realization that i will be bringing at least one cosa back with me that had not been there before: my thesis.
without divulging the exact focus of what my thesis will be (which i will start this semester), i've decided that it has to be on one of the subjects that has enthralled me since i arrived: los desaparacidos. this is the term given to the over 30,000 who were kidnapped, tortured, imprisoned, and/or (though usually and) killed three decades ago. starting under the second coming of juan peron (yes, that one, post evita) in 1976, it was the classic orwellian process of muting people who disagree with you. this epoch was continued and escalated through the military junta that ruled argentina until 1983, when they were humbly crushed in the falklands war.
the details are not too pretty. military police, escorted in ford falcons, would drive around by night to kidnap suspected subversives. they were usually taken to one of any number of locations, tortured for any relevant information they had, then thrown out of a helicopter into the sleepy rio de la plata when they were no longer needed. while the world is not lacking for examples of atrocities, this one has hit a little close to home. for one, i am here. for another, there is a giant banner at fadu with over 100 pictures of students, professors, or others affiliated with the university who disappeared during that time. at the bottom, it reads siempre presente.
and that's how it is. whenever you meet an argentino/a over the age of 45, you are meeting someone who was at least old enough to have been a student during this time. they may have had to bite their tongue in order to survive. they most definitely know someone who simply vanished. they may have quit their job, left their spouse, moved, or done any number of measures to outlive an enemy state. they may have even been a torturer themselves. so, there is this eerie feeling that whenever you meet someone in middle-age or above (40 may be the new 30, but is it still middle-age? you can send hate mail if you think i'm being ageist), you are not only meeting them. you are meeting everyone who didn't get the opportunity to continue because of someone else's insecurity.
entonces, as someone who does not always agree with his government and is not too shy to make note of it, this period is illuminating. not only for the tragedies, but for the three decades of inconsistency in the argentine socio-economic reality since it decided to purge itself of 30,000 of its most brilliant minds. in the cases of the tragedy and its aftermath, i believe that i would most likely have been involved in the former.
i hope that my upcoming thesis will help propagate the message selected by the argentine national commission of the disappeared: nunca mas.
Monday, July 21, 2008
barrio chino
la boca, buenos aires
maybe it was between the sixth and seventh milanesa completas (thin chicken breast fried with ham and cheese), perhaps after the twenty-third empanada, or quizas it was after another night of bife de chorizo. regardless of when it was, what happened is that the comida here lost its zang at some point. i know the last thing you want to hear is someone whine about how they're tired of all the delicious, grass-fed beef they've been eating. but the fact of the matter (and i hate to break it to you, argentina) is that somethin's missing. by serendipitous fortune, i have worked in close proximity to barrio chino where i've been able to diverge from the traditional porteño fare a few times. since i could not find much mention of it in my guide book, figured i'd give a little run-down of where to go next time you're fixin' for some good ol' msg:
cantina chinatown: atmosphere is definitely a plus here, although i found the spicy beef to be a little lacking. it offers the cheapest of the menu ejecutivo (prix fixe) options at 16 pesos and its arrolladitos primaveras are not to be missed.
todos contentos: a little more expensive at 18 pesos, this lunch special makes up for it with a delicious noodle soup. extra credit must be given for a hot sauce that can spice up any winter afternoon.
dragon porteño: if you're seeking a mountain of rice, this is your lugar. while a combination would be nice, they will force you to choose between the vegetable, beef, chicken, or pork options. the veteran play is not to order the vegetable, as the other three contain the same ingredients in addition to their own contribution. they've got an egg drop soup that would make chairman mao proud.
la gran muralla: similarly decent arrolladitos primaveras, though i found the salsa caliente to be anything but. still, the chow mein fulfilled your reasonable expectations and the service was excellent. the jasmine tea is a must.
lai-lai: in my humble opinion, the best of all options. not only was it strong in aesthetics, but it had probably had the strongest of the menu ejecutivo options. not only was it the only one to offer pollo sesamo, the portions were enough to meet a hungry man's desire without so much as to render them useless for the rest of the day.
before you treat this review as gospel, take note that i was unable to survey palillo among others. if you arrive in barrio chino in the unfortunate hours between lunch and dinner, you always have the option of heading straight for mercado asia, where the lunch counter will fill you up with what you need.
unfortunadamente, fortune cookies did not make the trip.
maybe it was between the sixth and seventh milanesa completas (thin chicken breast fried with ham and cheese), perhaps after the twenty-third empanada, or quizas it was after another night of bife de chorizo. regardless of when it was, what happened is that the comida here lost its zang at some point. i know the last thing you want to hear is someone whine about how they're tired of all the delicious, grass-fed beef they've been eating. but the fact of the matter (and i hate to break it to you, argentina) is that somethin's missing. by serendipitous fortune, i have worked in close proximity to barrio chino where i've been able to diverge from the traditional porteño fare a few times. since i could not find much mention of it in my guide book, figured i'd give a little run-down of where to go next time you're fixin' for some good ol' msg:
cantina chinatown: atmosphere is definitely a plus here, although i found the spicy beef to be a little lacking. it offers the cheapest of the menu ejecutivo (prix fixe) options at 16 pesos and its arrolladitos primaveras are not to be missed.
todos contentos: a little more expensive at 18 pesos, this lunch special makes up for it with a delicious noodle soup. extra credit must be given for a hot sauce that can spice up any winter afternoon.
dragon porteño: if you're seeking a mountain of rice, this is your lugar. while a combination would be nice, they will force you to choose between the vegetable, beef, chicken, or pork options. the veteran play is not to order the vegetable, as the other three contain the same ingredients in addition to their own contribution. they've got an egg drop soup that would make chairman mao proud.
la gran muralla: similarly decent arrolladitos primaveras, though i found the salsa caliente to be anything but. still, the chow mein fulfilled your reasonable expectations and the service was excellent. the jasmine tea is a must.
lai-lai: in my humble opinion, the best of all options. not only was it strong in aesthetics, but it had probably had the strongest of the menu ejecutivo options. not only was it the only one to offer pollo sesamo, the portions were enough to meet a hungry man's desire without so much as to render them useless for the rest of the day.
before you treat this review as gospel, take note that i was unable to survey palillo among others. if you arrive in barrio chino in the unfortunate hours between lunch and dinner, you always have the option of heading straight for mercado asia, where the lunch counter will fill you up with what you need.
unfortunadamente, fortune cookies did not make the trip.
Friday, July 18, 2008
los chicos
la boca, buenos aires
appropriately after a gloomy post, el sol returneth. if last week i was lamenting, then this week i am bustling. the reason being that the past five days have provided me with two viable projects, both of which are to be finished by the end of next week.
otra mirada, the photography project involving children, has gotten under way. following a visit to familiarize ourselves with one another, we returned to distribute the disposable cameras this past wednesday. to our relief, there were ten students instead of four and they were jumping out of their seats to receive their cameras. while i was advised to have them shoot their pictures at the school for fear that they would not return the cameras, i thought they should go home with the students anyway. my reasoning is that two rolls that show the life of a student are better than ten rolls of the same small schoolhouse. vamos a ver.....
on the carlos-front, we have decided to assist him with his davos presentation and to offer some suggestions for ways that he can expand his program. we have taken the opportunity to dive a little further into his work, including a visit earlier today to crecientos juntos, a primary school in the poorer outskirts of the city. carlos and his team at cep have been working with this school for over a year, teaching them how to build a playground out of bottle caps, a solar water heater out of plastic bottles, as well as composting food from the cafeteria for use in a potential school garden, among other cosas. the next step has been to transfer all sorts of other discarded materials to the school so that the niños can build a school eco-laboratory. this building will be about the size of a tuff-shed and be composed entirely out of recycled/discarded materials. the idea is that the kids will build it, learn about its various components in the process, and hopefully take this knowledge to assist their families with cheap energy solutions.
entonces, this means that i have been able to return to the classroom. while our cities may have different monuments, our tongues different languages, or skin different hues, one place where it's all the same has to be the school. no matter if you're in argentina, namibia, the us or anywhere else, kids are kids. some are going to want to talk to you to figure you out. others will quietly watch you from a distance and never come near and still others will accept you provided that you show that you can play soccer or just not be such an adult. in short, if you ever need to be humbled, reminded as to what life is about or just a prescription for culture shock, you can find it at recess.
post scripto. el campo won in the senate, with the vice president casting the tie-breaking vote against his own superiors. while i do read the final score to be: oligarchs 1 redistribution 0, it may be enough that this country avoided a prolonged conflict and possible undemocratic transition of power. the sea is a little calmer here today, but there's still a ton of dead fish.
appropriately after a gloomy post, el sol returneth. if last week i was lamenting, then this week i am bustling. the reason being that the past five days have provided me with two viable projects, both of which are to be finished by the end of next week.
otra mirada, the photography project involving children, has gotten under way. following a visit to familiarize ourselves with one another, we returned to distribute the disposable cameras this past wednesday. to our relief, there were ten students instead of four and they were jumping out of their seats to receive their cameras. while i was advised to have them shoot their pictures at the school for fear that they would not return the cameras, i thought they should go home with the students anyway. my reasoning is that two rolls that show the life of a student are better than ten rolls of the same small schoolhouse. vamos a ver.....
on the carlos-front, we have decided to assist him with his davos presentation and to offer some suggestions for ways that he can expand his program. we have taken the opportunity to dive a little further into his work, including a visit earlier today to crecientos juntos, a primary school in the poorer outskirts of the city. carlos and his team at cep have been working with this school for over a year, teaching them how to build a playground out of bottle caps, a solar water heater out of plastic bottles, as well as composting food from the cafeteria for use in a potential school garden, among other cosas. the next step has been to transfer all sorts of other discarded materials to the school so that the niños can build a school eco-laboratory. this building will be about the size of a tuff-shed and be composed entirely out of recycled/discarded materials. the idea is that the kids will build it, learn about its various components in the process, and hopefully take this knowledge to assist their families with cheap energy solutions.
entonces, this means that i have been able to return to the classroom. while our cities may have different monuments, our tongues different languages, or skin different hues, one place where it's all the same has to be the school. no matter if you're in argentina, namibia, the us or anywhere else, kids are kids. some are going to want to talk to you to figure you out. others will quietly watch you from a distance and never come near and still others will accept you provided that you show that you can play soccer or just not be such an adult. in short, if you ever need to be humbled, reminded as to what life is about or just a prescription for culture shock, you can find it at recess.
post scripto. el campo won in the senate, with the vice president casting the tie-breaking vote against his own superiors. while i do read the final score to be: oligarchs 1 redistribution 0, it may be enough that this country avoided a prolonged conflict and possible undemocratic transition of power. the sea is a little calmer here today, but there's still a ton of dead fish.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
dias extraños
la boca, buenos aires
gotta love july. the sun is shining, the gente leave a layer of clothing behind, and the lawns of the parques are saturated with solseekers. that has been the case over the past four or five days and, while i love summer as much as the next hombre, it is winter (see: hemisphere, southern). unfortunately, this has not been the only thing that has contributed to more densely crowded streets and sidewalks. along with the escalating lucha between the government and the campo, there is a palpable feeling around the city that is, well, weird. thus, you are spared a global warming rant from yours truly.
entonces, to clarify a little further about the campo-gobierno dispute (which i wrote about in la huelga, for those following from home), the government introduced their retencion proposal on agricultural exports to congress a couple weeks ago. approved after a marathon session (voting completed around 3 am on a friday night), the measure has moved on to the senate where it will be voted on this evening. polls showed going into today that the pro/con breakdown was 34-33 with 5 undecided, contributing to the festivities of yesterday.
in an effort to show popular support and cajole lawmakers (at least 5 of them), the leaders of el campo called for a rally in palermo yesterday afternoon (coincidentally, wink wink, close to homes with high property values). to counter that, the gobierno called for its own rally at the same time, outside the congressional building. by the most conservative estimates (and therefore the most credible), the campo won the show of force by a final score of 200,000 enraged citizens to 90,000 discontent inhabitants. but like hits and first downs, these sums are not the determinants for who gets the trophy and who takes the long shower. when voting ceases later tonight, it is most likely that the losing party will have to move the goalposts to send this thing to extra innings. [end poor sports analogies]
post scripto. all derisive comments about campo supports being well-heeled aside, they have the support of my two most recent cab drivers. mas, the us ambassador that recently met with the presidenta more or less asked her what the hell was going on, since the state department doesn't really have a clue (urge to insert iraq comment).......en resumen........this dispute is com-plex.
suerte, argentina
gotta love july. the sun is shining, the gente leave a layer of clothing behind, and the lawns of the parques are saturated with solseekers. that has been the case over the past four or five days and, while i love summer as much as the next hombre, it is winter (see: hemisphere, southern). unfortunately, this has not been the only thing that has contributed to more densely crowded streets and sidewalks. along with the escalating lucha between the government and the campo, there is a palpable feeling around the city that is, well, weird. thus, you are spared a global warming rant from yours truly.
entonces, to clarify a little further about the campo-gobierno dispute (which i wrote about in la huelga, for those following from home), the government introduced their retencion proposal on agricultural exports to congress a couple weeks ago. approved after a marathon session (voting completed around 3 am on a friday night), the measure has moved on to the senate where it will be voted on this evening. polls showed going into today that the pro/con breakdown was 34-33 with 5 undecided, contributing to the festivities of yesterday.
in an effort to show popular support and cajole lawmakers (at least 5 of them), the leaders of el campo called for a rally in palermo yesterday afternoon (coincidentally, wink wink, close to homes with high property values). to counter that, the gobierno called for its own rally at the same time, outside the congressional building. by the most conservative estimates (and therefore the most credible), the campo won the show of force by a final score of 200,000 enraged citizens to 90,000 discontent inhabitants. but like hits and first downs, these sums are not the determinants for who gets the trophy and who takes the long shower. when voting ceases later tonight, it is most likely that the losing party will have to move the goalposts to send this thing to extra innings. [end poor sports analogies]
regardless of the victor from this evening or the entire pelea, the future of a major developing nation and many hungry people is dependent upon somebody stepping up and becoming a gracious loser. inflation has skyrocketed for your average argentine and the fear of eventual food shortages is omnipresent. meanwhile, the strike has thinned out the traditional governmental cash cow that finances the subsidies for industries like energy and oil that drive so much of this (or any) economy. so, best case scenario: somebody wins vote tonight, loser steps down and cans the incendiary language. but then, this is latin america after all.
post scripto. all derisive comments about campo supports being well-heeled aside, they have the support of my two most recent cab drivers. mas, the us ambassador that recently met with the presidenta more or less asked her what the hell was going on, since the state department doesn't really have a clue (urge to insert iraq comment).......en resumen........this dispute is com-plex.
suerte, argentina
Sunday, July 13, 2008
dame una u
la boca, buenos aires
if montevideo, uruguay were to have any parallel, it would be your first college apartment. that apartment had a sofa from one relative, a chair from your roommates girlfriends' parents, plates and silverware from the restaurant you worked at, and an entertainment center that had been rescued from someone else's curb. you weren't quite ready to host a state dinner, but everything was functional and definitely comfortable. such is montevideo or, at least, my impression of it after a 40 hour weekend visit.
montevideo is beautiful in an urban-decay sort of way. there are a handful of beautiful art deco buildings, a few gorgeous gothic, which along with red brick apartment towers, ominous socialist-influenced behemoths, and decaying stucco edifices give the city an inconsistent appearance. but everything about it is gorgeous. there are plenty of open plazas, tree-lined streets, and a beautiful waterfront promenade that make it a charming destination.
beyond urban design and architecture, i found it to be the perfect weekend destination to escape the hustle of buenos aires and frustrating conclusion to the work week. it is in every way a city, but seemed to have about a tenth of its population capacity actually living there. most streets were empty, traffic strolled by slowly, and an overwhelming majority of apartment windows were unlit. it did not have an eerie vibe, just a quiet one. this fine-lined difference was provided by all the fishermen along the promenade, the dogs playing in the river, and lots of bongo players lending their hands to fill the city with their sound.
if there is one image that may linger a little longer from this trip, it has to be the mate. this herbal concoction, though also prevalent in buenos aires, was ubiquitous along the streets of montevideo. it is really nothing more than finely grained mate leaves soaked in hot water, providing a stimulation somewhat milder than that of coffee. what's so remarkable is just how prevalent it is. nearly everybody was either carrying their mate (gourd) in one hand and a thermos under the arm to reload, or carrying their gourd with a leather mate carrying case slung around their shoulder. interesting, sure, but it was usually the only thing they would carry. i usually walk the streets of new york (and buenos aires) with a couple books, a magazine, an umbrella, and perhaps a few other small items. there's definitely something liberating about just having your beverage on hand. and a thermos to keep it fresh, of course.
if montevideo, uruguay were to have any parallel, it would be your first college apartment. that apartment had a sofa from one relative, a chair from your roommates girlfriends' parents, plates and silverware from the restaurant you worked at, and an entertainment center that had been rescued from someone else's curb. you weren't quite ready to host a state dinner, but everything was functional and definitely comfortable. such is montevideo or, at least, my impression of it after a 40 hour weekend visit.
montevideo is beautiful in an urban-decay sort of way. there are a handful of beautiful art deco buildings, a few gorgeous gothic, which along with red brick apartment towers, ominous socialist-influenced behemoths, and decaying stucco edifices give the city an inconsistent appearance. but everything about it is gorgeous. there are plenty of open plazas, tree-lined streets, and a beautiful waterfront promenade that make it a charming destination.
beyond urban design and architecture, i found it to be the perfect weekend destination to escape the hustle of buenos aires and frustrating conclusion to the work week. it is in every way a city, but seemed to have about a tenth of its population capacity actually living there. most streets were empty, traffic strolled by slowly, and an overwhelming majority of apartment windows were unlit. it did not have an eerie vibe, just a quiet one. this fine-lined difference was provided by all the fishermen along the promenade, the dogs playing in the river, and lots of bongo players lending their hands to fill the city with their sound.
if there is one image that may linger a little longer from this trip, it has to be the mate. this herbal concoction, though also prevalent in buenos aires, was ubiquitous along the streets of montevideo. it is really nothing more than finely grained mate leaves soaked in hot water, providing a stimulation somewhat milder than that of coffee. what's so remarkable is just how prevalent it is. nearly everybody was either carrying their mate (gourd) in one hand and a thermos under the arm to reload, or carrying their gourd with a leather mate carrying case slung around their shoulder. interesting, sure, but it was usually the only thing they would carry. i usually walk the streets of new york (and buenos aires) with a couple books, a magazine, an umbrella, and perhaps a few other small items. there's definitely something liberating about just having your beverage on hand. and a thermos to keep it fresh, of course.
Friday, July 11, 2008
carlostellano
la boca, buenos aires
i learned a new word today: diapositiva. it is a word i never wanted to learn, at least in the context that i learned it. it means a transparency, or a slide. while that may sound innocuous enough, you may understand my frustration if i use it in a sentence for you: yo edito la diapositive de PowerPoint.
that is what i did today. the trajectory of our work has gone from 1) designing sustainable houses for different climates to 2) designing a millennium kit prototype 3) create a mini-biogas plant 4) create a how-to manual for arming and disarming a school eco-lab 5) create a cost-benefit analysis plan for the construction of millennium kits and finally to 6) edit the powerpoint presentation that carlos will give at a conference in davos, switzerland. each of these projects, or our assumption that we would do them, has lasted about a week. unfortunately, i expect that the last of these may have the longest duration.
there is a mezcla of legitimate discontent and self-entitled whining that i must now subject you to. carlos does amazing work, but is not internship supervisor material. why didn't he take the time to meet with us initially to figure out who we are (i.e. not architects)? why didn't he take the time to ask us what value added contribution we could make to this project (i.e. case studies, economic analyses, etc.)? why didn't he at least ask us to investigate and communicate the shortcomings of implementing his innovations in some of the most destitute, and therefore neediest, urban environments on the planet? as grad students we are not capable of changing the world in a two-month time frame, but we feel like we have been held back from the bare minimum: a chance to really learn. i am left with that i-interned-in-buenos-aires-and-all-i-got-was-this-lousy-mate-gourd feeling.
i am pursuing a degree in one of the easiest fields to understand: international affairs. this is the arena of diplomacy, conflict resolution, trade, and human development, among other headings. but in the initial internship stage, it is one of those that-and-90-centavos-gets-you-a-ride-on-the-subte type of occupations. you can tell me all about neoliberal economic reforms and its consequenes in the 2001 economic crisis, but can you build this? well, no. can you design? shape? make? do? the answer to all these questions means that i have been translating this presentation from castellano to ingles, including phrases such as: ´clusters of tacit-holistic vernacular knowledge and discovery of the complexity a synthesis from complexity science and vernacular experiences.'
the bright side is that we have organized a few field trips to see the villas and will use our remaining weeks to pursue other areas of interest, outside of powerpoint. i also know that i will come away from here having learned, seen, and even done far more than i actually realize. this will, i can only hope, help me reach the point where i can, actually, do something to better the lives of the other 90%. and maybe, someday, i can frustrate the hell out of my own interns.
i learned a new word today: diapositiva. it is a word i never wanted to learn, at least in the context that i learned it. it means a transparency, or a slide. while that may sound innocuous enough, you may understand my frustration if i use it in a sentence for you: yo edito la diapositive de PowerPoint.
that is what i did today. the trajectory of our work has gone from 1) designing sustainable houses for different climates to 2) designing a millennium kit prototype 3) create a mini-biogas plant 4) create a how-to manual for arming and disarming a school eco-lab 5) create a cost-benefit analysis plan for the construction of millennium kits and finally to 6) edit the powerpoint presentation that carlos will give at a conference in davos, switzerland. each of these projects, or our assumption that we would do them, has lasted about a week. unfortunately, i expect that the last of these may have the longest duration.
there is a mezcla of legitimate discontent and self-entitled whining that i must now subject you to. carlos does amazing work, but is not internship supervisor material. why didn't he take the time to meet with us initially to figure out who we are (i.e. not architects)? why didn't he take the time to ask us what value added contribution we could make to this project (i.e. case studies, economic analyses, etc.)? why didn't he at least ask us to investigate and communicate the shortcomings of implementing his innovations in some of the most destitute, and therefore neediest, urban environments on the planet? as grad students we are not capable of changing the world in a two-month time frame, but we feel like we have been held back from the bare minimum: a chance to really learn. i am left with that i-interned-in-buenos-aires-and-all-i-got-was-this-lousy-mate-gourd feeling.
i am pursuing a degree in one of the easiest fields to understand: international affairs. this is the arena of diplomacy, conflict resolution, trade, and human development, among other headings. but in the initial internship stage, it is one of those that-and-90-centavos-gets-you-a-ride-on-the-subte type of occupations. you can tell me all about neoliberal economic reforms and its consequenes in the 2001 economic crisis, but can you build this? well, no. can you design? shape? make? do? the answer to all these questions means that i have been translating this presentation from castellano to ingles, including phrases such as: ´clusters of tacit-holistic vernacular knowledge and discovery of the complexity a synthesis from complexity science and vernacular experiences.'
the bright side is that we have organized a few field trips to see the villas and will use our remaining weeks to pursue other areas of interest, outside of powerpoint. i also know that i will come away from here having learned, seen, and even done far more than i actually realize. this will, i can only hope, help me reach the point where i can, actually, do something to better the lives of the other 90%. and maybe, someday, i can frustrate the hell out of my own interns.
Monday, July 7, 2008
otra mirada
la boca, buenos aires
following a delightful weekend with my recently arrived querida, i had an early morning trip to the outer periphery of the city to begin another work task i had volunteered for months ago. the photography project, another look, is being conducted by one member of each summer program from the new school. as the buenos aires coordinator, i spent the past month talking with knowledgable locals about finding disadvantaged children so that i could give them a 'voice' through photography. today we had our introduction.
i am glad that it took so long to arrange this introduction. through fadu faculty members ileana and marina, i found a school early on that would be available for the project. however, the school wanted an official proposal and information about just who i was, including my passport number. it often appears as though the rights of the poorest children are the first to go in too many developing countries. i was comforted to see that at least one school took precautions.
entonces, i met ileana for an hour-long ride out to the conurbano, specifically an area to the west called matanza (which has a population equal to the 3 million that reside in buenos aires proper). hector, also a faduista, met us there to introduce us to the teacher, who happened to be his sister. we all stood around a laptop showing the four children a web album of pictures that hector had assembled from his childhood. the chicos were enthusiastically supportive when we told them that we would bring them cameras next week to create their own memories. the maestra assured us that the ten absent students would be similarly excited next monday, as well as present.
post script: aprende castellano
a polite way to accept a cherry, if offered:
following a delightful weekend with my recently arrived querida, i had an early morning trip to the outer periphery of the city to begin another work task i had volunteered for months ago. the photography project, another look, is being conducted by one member of each summer program from the new school. as the buenos aires coordinator, i spent the past month talking with knowledgable locals about finding disadvantaged children so that i could give them a 'voice' through photography. today we had our introduction.
i am glad that it took so long to arrange this introduction. through fadu faculty members ileana and marina, i found a school early on that would be available for the project. however, the school wanted an official proposal and information about just who i was, including my passport number. it often appears as though the rights of the poorest children are the first to go in too many developing countries. i was comforted to see that at least one school took precautions.
entonces, i met ileana for an hour-long ride out to the conurbano, specifically an area to the west called matanza (which has a population equal to the 3 million that reside in buenos aires proper). hector, also a faduista, met us there to introduce us to the teacher, who happened to be his sister. we all stood around a laptop showing the four children a web album of pictures that hector had assembled from his childhood. the chicos were enthusiastically supportive when we told them that we would bring them cameras next week to create their own memories. the maestra assured us that the ten absent students would be similarly excited next monday, as well as present.
post script: aprende castellano
a polite way to accept a cherry, if offered:
¿una cereza? ¡certeza!
Friday, July 4, 2008
cuatro de julio
la boca, buenos aires
this will be my fifth consecutive fourth of july spent in a country other than the united states. i still cherish all those memories of barbecues, parades, fireworks, and idle hours spent poolside in the northern hemisphere, but it feels as though longing for them goes beyond a wish to return to childhood. not only has time elapsed, so has the context.
what has been so interesting for me to be beyond american (or at least north american) soil for these past five summers is that it has happened during such tumultuous times. if there has been one constant among the five countries during this time, it has been the consistency with which locals and fellow travelers have disparaged the actions of my government. in the first of these experiences, in namibia in 2004, i quickly learned to adopt the 'german greeting', which is to shrug your shoulders slightly and offer an apology upon introduction. most of the africans that i met would not judge, but people from the rest of the continents usually wanted to make sure they were in the presence of a contritious american. i never felt like i was being held accountable for the iraq war myself; i actually believe that i've been offered a lot of sympathy in all these places. still, i have felt less than inclined to advertise myself as an american in the developing world when my country has acted in ways that i wholly condemn.
fourth of july celebrations have been muted, to say the least. i feel cheated to have to muffle the celebration of my holiday because the symbols of my countries greatness have been coopted by a gang of thieves. the work of so many great patriots has been used to sell a war that has killed and displaced so many. it is hard to express my patriotism in places like kenya, malawi, and argentina when my flag is associated more with corporate imperialism than liberty, suffrage, emancipation, civil rights, and freedom of speech, perhaps more in my mind than in theirs. i am america's guilty conscious.
yet it is the progression of the past five years that has given me hope. if 2004 was denial, then 2005 was rage and the past two have certainly been depression. now, all of a sudden, there is an interest in american politics that is not vituperative. it is amazing to read articles, watch news reports, or speak with locals about the surging candidacy of barack obama. if my limited sample size of the porteños i have met can be predictive, it appears as though the world may be able to forgive us if we elect a black man president less than two centuries after emancipation. it is nice to be able to show a little more pride.
but i am not america. i am not its political system, its public consciousness, its economy, or its weather. i just happen to be an american who likes to wander. so today, on the fourth, i will celebrate the most appropriate way that i know how: i'm going bowling. i'm going to have a beer, eat some grilled meat, and speak a little spanish (like it or not, your great-grandchildren may need to speak it). i'm going to celebrate with my fellow expatriots by laughing (we have a great sense of humor) and complaining (our constitution lets us) and doing whatever the hell i feel like (cause i'm an american, damnit!). i will celebrate the greatness of our past and the brightness of our future, and will try for one day not to think of the poo-stain on the mattress that is our current executive branch.
buenas noches y buena suerte
this will be my fifth consecutive fourth of july spent in a country other than the united states. i still cherish all those memories of barbecues, parades, fireworks, and idle hours spent poolside in the northern hemisphere, but it feels as though longing for them goes beyond a wish to return to childhood. not only has time elapsed, so has the context.
what has been so interesting for me to be beyond american (or at least north american) soil for these past five summers is that it has happened during such tumultuous times. if there has been one constant among the five countries during this time, it has been the consistency with which locals and fellow travelers have disparaged the actions of my government. in the first of these experiences, in namibia in 2004, i quickly learned to adopt the 'german greeting', which is to shrug your shoulders slightly and offer an apology upon introduction. most of the africans that i met would not judge, but people from the rest of the continents usually wanted to make sure they were in the presence of a contritious american. i never felt like i was being held accountable for the iraq war myself; i actually believe that i've been offered a lot of sympathy in all these places. still, i have felt less than inclined to advertise myself as an american in the developing world when my country has acted in ways that i wholly condemn.
fourth of july celebrations have been muted, to say the least. i feel cheated to have to muffle the celebration of my holiday because the symbols of my countries greatness have been coopted by a gang of thieves. the work of so many great patriots has been used to sell a war that has killed and displaced so many. it is hard to express my patriotism in places like kenya, malawi, and argentina when my flag is associated more with corporate imperialism than liberty, suffrage, emancipation, civil rights, and freedom of speech, perhaps more in my mind than in theirs. i am america's guilty conscious.
yet it is the progression of the past five years that has given me hope. if 2004 was denial, then 2005 was rage and the past two have certainly been depression. now, all of a sudden, there is an interest in american politics that is not vituperative. it is amazing to read articles, watch news reports, or speak with locals about the surging candidacy of barack obama. if my limited sample size of the porteños i have met can be predictive, it appears as though the world may be able to forgive us if we elect a black man president less than two centuries after emancipation. it is nice to be able to show a little more pride.
but i am not america. i am not its political system, its public consciousness, its economy, or its weather. i just happen to be an american who likes to wander. so today, on the fourth, i will celebrate the most appropriate way that i know how: i'm going bowling. i'm going to have a beer, eat some grilled meat, and speak a little spanish (like it or not, your great-grandchildren may need to speak it). i'm going to celebrate with my fellow expatriots by laughing (we have a great sense of humor) and complaining (our constitution lets us) and doing whatever the hell i feel like (cause i'm an american, damnit!). i will celebrate the greatness of our past and the brightness of our future, and will try for one day not to think of the poo-stain on the mattress that is our current executive branch.
buenas noches y buena suerte
Monday, June 30, 2008
las batallas
san telmo, buenos aires
there is an interesting phenomenon in which i engage multiple times per day: the second-language battle. it happens at the newstand, restaurant, meeting, and the birthday party hosted by a local chapter of the trotskyite socialist party (long story). the sequence begins when i am introduced to someone who immediately realizes that i´m a gringo (not entirely difficult to do). what follows is that they speak to me in inglés, while i respond in castellano. the first one to break and result to their native language is the loser.
in business exchanges, the lengua invariably becomes that of the loser to expediently process the transaction in question. as a frequent loser, i offer polite words, pocket my recently purchased phone card, and move off to lose future batallas. in social situations, the battle is fought and then castellano is resorted to as a sort of compensation for having fought. you can picture this as the apollo creed-rocky relationship post-fight: the superior party has the pride of victory and helps the contender prepare for their next challenge.
a common retail batalla is to look dumb during small purchases. the buses only take coins and the 100 peso note is difficult to use. entonces, one offers the small item that they would like to purchase to the cashier/waiter, then fidgets through their pockets and frowns when asked if they have something smaller. eye contact is generally made after this, at which point one party caves in and either accepts the large denomination or ´finds´a heretofor undiscovered coin. with all humility, i am excellent at this game.
after weeks of sidelong glances, i finally mustered the courage to engage in another batalla last week. on the northern edge of parque lezama are a series of chesstables and a few prepared combatants. jorge, with his sixty plus years and wool beret, was very welcoming when i walked over and defeated me in the pair of games we played. the games were close and the first i had played in over six months, so i am holding out hope for future victory. he said that as long as the sun is shining, he´ll be there ready for the next challenge. so to all the jorges, cashiers, and cocktail party acquaintances in buenos aires......en guarde!
there is an interesting phenomenon in which i engage multiple times per day: the second-language battle. it happens at the newstand, restaurant, meeting, and the birthday party hosted by a local chapter of the trotskyite socialist party (long story). the sequence begins when i am introduced to someone who immediately realizes that i´m a gringo (not entirely difficult to do). what follows is that they speak to me in inglés, while i respond in castellano. the first one to break and result to their native language is the loser.
in business exchanges, the lengua invariably becomes that of the loser to expediently process the transaction in question. as a frequent loser, i offer polite words, pocket my recently purchased phone card, and move off to lose future batallas. in social situations, the battle is fought and then castellano is resorted to as a sort of compensation for having fought. you can picture this as the apollo creed-rocky relationship post-fight: the superior party has the pride of victory and helps the contender prepare for their next challenge.
a common retail batalla is to look dumb during small purchases. the buses only take coins and the 100 peso note is difficult to use. entonces, one offers the small item that they would like to purchase to the cashier/waiter, then fidgets through their pockets and frowns when asked if they have something smaller. eye contact is generally made after this, at which point one party caves in and either accepts the large denomination or ´finds´a heretofor undiscovered coin. with all humility, i am excellent at this game.
after weeks of sidelong glances, i finally mustered the courage to engage in another batalla last week. on the northern edge of parque lezama are a series of chesstables and a few prepared combatants. jorge, with his sixty plus years and wool beret, was very welcoming when i walked over and defeated me in the pair of games we played. the games were close and the first i had played in over six months, so i am holding out hope for future victory. he said that as long as the sun is shining, he´ll be there ready for the next challenge. so to all the jorges, cashiers, and cocktail party acquaintances in buenos aires......en guarde!
la visita
san telmo, buenos aires
the past fin de semana was delightful as i got to see two of my favorite personas: mi madre y mi hermana. they were able to come thanks to the confluence of an open weekend and airline employee privileges. they arrived on friday morning and departed yesterday afternoon, though we were able to cram a lot into such a short stay.
coming at about the one-month point of my stay here, it was nice to get a little spoiled for a change. no longer footing the bill, those collectivos that can require an hour of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with deodorant-less friends were replaced by efficient taxis. lunches consisting of greasy hand-held empanadas were replaced by meals that involved chairs, silverware, and plates. and all those landmarks that i had heard about finally had occasion to be visited.
but definitely the greatest was seeing a little bit of the familiar for a bit. i first really traveled over four years ago and haven´t slowed down too much since. traveling is not like stamp-collecting, golf, or metallurgy: it requires a person to be moving from one place to a different one. it is akin to a disease that makes your mind think of places beyond where you actually are to the detriment of the relationships you already have. still, i have been fortunate to have a family that is supportive of my wanderlust and to have met a great lady who understands and shares my desire to snoop around this little ol´ world we got. i was able to share this new place with two of my ladies for a weekend, and to introduce them to one another. i can only hope that they enjoyed the introduction as much as i enjoyed facilitating it.
entonces, i must extend a gracias to my two ladies who are either sitting in a plane or an airport concourse a good 18 hours after i last saw them. there´s no place like home, but having a little bit of home on the road ought to sustain me for a little bit.
the past fin de semana was delightful as i got to see two of my favorite personas: mi madre y mi hermana. they were able to come thanks to the confluence of an open weekend and airline employee privileges. they arrived on friday morning and departed yesterday afternoon, though we were able to cram a lot into such a short stay.
coming at about the one-month point of my stay here, it was nice to get a little spoiled for a change. no longer footing the bill, those collectivos that can require an hour of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with deodorant-less friends were replaced by efficient taxis. lunches consisting of greasy hand-held empanadas were replaced by meals that involved chairs, silverware, and plates. and all those landmarks that i had heard about finally had occasion to be visited.
but definitely the greatest was seeing a little bit of the familiar for a bit. i first really traveled over four years ago and haven´t slowed down too much since. traveling is not like stamp-collecting, golf, or metallurgy: it requires a person to be moving from one place to a different one. it is akin to a disease that makes your mind think of places beyond where you actually are to the detriment of the relationships you already have. still, i have been fortunate to have a family that is supportive of my wanderlust and to have met a great lady who understands and shares my desire to snoop around this little ol´ world we got. i was able to share this new place with two of my ladies for a weekend, and to introduce them to one another. i can only hope that they enjoyed the introduction as much as i enjoyed facilitating it.
entonces, i must extend a gracias to my two ladies who are either sitting in a plane or an airport concourse a good 18 hours after i last saw them. there´s no place like home, but having a little bit of home on the road ought to sustain me for a little bit.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
los cartoneros
san cristobal, buenos aires
below the enchanting edificios and buzzing neon signs, in fashionable palermo and gritty la boca, can be found the most prominent reminder that this city is not paradise for all. los cartoneros patrol the sidewalks of this city searching for their namesake, cardboard. it is definitely disquieting to be in their presence, which is ubiquitous after the working day is done. however, there is something that separates los cartoneros from similar downtrodden urban collectors, something that was apparent even before our group attended a lecture on the topic last night.
the hyperinflation and economic crisis that the country experienced at the end of 2001 had far-reaching consequences, and the current prevalence of cartoneros is one. the people who used to work in supermercados, construction or other occupations at the lower end of the middle class are now the ones who scour the streets for cardboard. they find it in dumpsters and garbage bags, stack it in rickshaw-sized carts, and take it to one of the local factories that buys it at advertised prices. the wages generally amount to over us$100 per month, which is reasonable by world bank standards, but hardly promising of anything but a precarious existence. while there were cartoneros before the crisis of 2001, there were not so many as exist today. these people have obviously not been able to find work in the past seven years and are becoming ever more pigeonholed into this one occupation. even more disconcerting, many cartoneros can be seen accompanied by their hijos, apprenticing in an unstable trade instead of focusing on school.
the government, recoiling from the shocks of the economic crisis, has been very lenient towards the cartoneros and they are able to enjoy at least some freedom to earn their living. but, like all things in life (or things that right-wingers can influence), there is instability. the current conservative mayor has been quoted as saying that the cartoneros are robbing the trash of the people. not only insensitive, this is also against the spirit of what is happening as these people go so far as to retie garbage bags and clean up the trash when they are done with a pile. so, for now los cartoneros can continue with their trade. all it will take is more distance from the events that caused their hardships and a few more sheltered souls in power to further dehumanize so many hardworking people.
post scripto. for all the johnistas in the argentina tv market, look for my appearance and pidgin spanish on canal 7 at 2000hrs on an upcoming viernes. i will be butchering your language on a show called recursos ambiente.
below the enchanting edificios and buzzing neon signs, in fashionable palermo and gritty la boca, can be found the most prominent reminder that this city is not paradise for all. los cartoneros patrol the sidewalks of this city searching for their namesake, cardboard. it is definitely disquieting to be in their presence, which is ubiquitous after the working day is done. however, there is something that separates los cartoneros from similar downtrodden urban collectors, something that was apparent even before our group attended a lecture on the topic last night.
the hyperinflation and economic crisis that the country experienced at the end of 2001 had far-reaching consequences, and the current prevalence of cartoneros is one. the people who used to work in supermercados, construction or other occupations at the lower end of the middle class are now the ones who scour the streets for cardboard. they find it in dumpsters and garbage bags, stack it in rickshaw-sized carts, and take it to one of the local factories that buys it at advertised prices. the wages generally amount to over us$100 per month, which is reasonable by world bank standards, but hardly promising of anything but a precarious existence. while there were cartoneros before the crisis of 2001, there were not so many as exist today. these people have obviously not been able to find work in the past seven years and are becoming ever more pigeonholed into this one occupation. even more disconcerting, many cartoneros can be seen accompanied by their hijos, apprenticing in an unstable trade instead of focusing on school.
the government, recoiling from the shocks of the economic crisis, has been very lenient towards the cartoneros and they are able to enjoy at least some freedom to earn their living. but, like all things in life (or things that right-wingers can influence), there is instability. the current conservative mayor has been quoted as saying that the cartoneros are robbing the trash of the people. not only insensitive, this is also against the spirit of what is happening as these people go so far as to retie garbage bags and clean up the trash when they are done with a pile. so, for now los cartoneros can continue with their trade. all it will take is more distance from the events that caused their hardships and a few more sheltered souls in power to further dehumanize so many hardworking people.
post scripto. for all the johnistas in the argentina tv market, look for my appearance and pidgin spanish on canal 7 at 2000hrs on an upcoming viernes. i will be butchering your language on a show called recursos ambiente.
Monday, June 23, 2008
uvas agrias
la boca, buenos aires
put me on a local bus through an african desert with scant legroom and i'll offer little complaint. give me a seat and slow service at an andean restaurant and i'll patiently bide my time before the food arrives. but i become the most bitter-tempered man when inside a bank or any other western-descending (or appearing) institution, no matter which continent i am on. maybe it's the flourescent lighting, the professional dress, or the austere cleanliness of everything that makes me expect efficiency. i tend to experience the opposite and today provided another example.
saturday was going to be my third or fourth withdrawal from a cajero automatico since i arrived and i chose to do it at a bank in the northern neighborhood of belgrano, right after a meeting. the machine took my card, i entered my pin, and then it informed me that the largest denomination was unavailable and that i should choose a smaller sum. i chose a smaller sum and then the machine told me that my tarjeta had been retenido. this was saturday, so i got to wait until this morning for the bank to open in order to retrieve it.
i arrived this morning after an hour bus rideto have the teller tell me that they would be unable to retrieve my card until manana. please? manana. then i asked if she could provide an advance on my credit card. no. so, i flashed those puppy dog eyes, told her that i was going to have to live off 4 pesos (slight lie, i had around 5) for the night, and would she try again for the advance? she whispered to the teller next to her, who kindly retrieved my card from the machine a few minutes later.
so, card in hand, i thought it would be better to not use the same machine that made me supplicate to friends for money over the weekend. that's why i walked a few blocks to the bancopatagonia, where i inserted my card and had to relive the identical process.
put me on a local bus through an african desert with scant legroom and i'll offer little complaint. give me a seat and slow service at an andean restaurant and i'll patiently bide my time before the food arrives. but i become the most bitter-tempered man when inside a bank or any other western-descending (or appearing) institution, no matter which continent i am on. maybe it's the flourescent lighting, the professional dress, or the austere cleanliness of everything that makes me expect efficiency. i tend to experience the opposite and today provided another example.
saturday was going to be my third or fourth withdrawal from a cajero automatico since i arrived and i chose to do it at a bank in the northern neighborhood of belgrano, right after a meeting. the machine took my card, i entered my pin, and then it informed me that the largest denomination was unavailable and that i should choose a smaller sum. i chose a smaller sum and then the machine told me that my tarjeta had been retenido. this was saturday, so i got to wait until this morning for the bank to open in order to retrieve it.
i arrived this morning after an hour bus rideto have the teller tell me that they would be unable to retrieve my card until manana. please? manana. then i asked if she could provide an advance on my credit card. no. so, i flashed those puppy dog eyes, told her that i was going to have to live off 4 pesos (slight lie, i had around 5) for the night, and would she try again for the advance? she whispered to the teller next to her, who kindly retrieved my card from the machine a few minutes later.
so, card in hand, i thought it would be better to not use the same machine that made me supplicate to friends for money over the weekend. that's why i walked a few blocks to the bancopatagonia, where i inserted my card and had to relive the identical process.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
lo que estoy haciendo
san telmo, buenos aires
years back, before beginning my year as a teacher in namibia, culture was explained to me as an iceberg: there is a fair amount that is visible above the surface (food, language, architecture, etc.), but there is a far greater mass below (customs, values, manners of perception, etc.). these unperceived cultural differences make themselves known frequently, especially when someone has the tall task of working with people from another culture. still, i do not think the subsurface cultural matter can quite explain our situation with carlos.
carlos is a sweet man. an adorable man. he is absolutely brilliant. but he inhabits a land that one could not possibly travel to. yesterday, we entered our reunion with him optimistic about the proposal for our remaining weeks. we left scratching our heads.
our proposal for work was to construct a small addition, approximately 4 square meters, complete with several of his brilliant innovations. we were going to have a mini-biogas plant that converts biomatter into energy, fashioned out of discarded barrels. the outside was going to include a solar water cooker made from tetra pak, a small garden, composting area, and a few other potentialities. additionally, we were going to look into securing funding so that people from the villas would learn how to weld and thereafter be able to create mini-biogas plants as a career endeavor. carlos approved our idea as proposed via email, he just had to see our drawings yesterday.
it was about 45 minutes into our reunion before we were able to finally present what we had done, or even to talk for that matter. he used the initial time to draw mountains, talk about bending iron bars, show us a beehive on his deck, and display how people can walk under aquaducts. you don´t need to ask, it didn´t really flow for us either. when it came time for us to show him our plan, he had some constructive criticism and i must say that he clearly knows what he´s talking about. i tried to suppress my frustration that we hadn´t hit the mark and then we had our breakthrough after telling him we weren´t architects.
¿you´re not architects?
no carlos, we´re not architects. this cleared us of the responsibility of designing the apparatus, and i think we´ll still be able to follow through with the rest of our plan. but i have to say, it was pretty fun to pretend to be an architect for a few weeks there. it was fun to design, to take these materials and think of a way to improve lives by constructing something. now we have to return to being idealistic policy wonks.
we have a couple days here to devise the way forward and i´m optimistic that we can offer value to a pretty cool project. in the meantime, we´ll just continue to scratch our heads, think, and just laugh at planeta carlos.
that, and prepare for our national television appearance that he has arranged for us tuesday morning.
years back, before beginning my year as a teacher in namibia, culture was explained to me as an iceberg: there is a fair amount that is visible above the surface (food, language, architecture, etc.), but there is a far greater mass below (customs, values, manners of perception, etc.). these unperceived cultural differences make themselves known frequently, especially when someone has the tall task of working with people from another culture. still, i do not think the subsurface cultural matter can quite explain our situation with carlos.
carlos is a sweet man. an adorable man. he is absolutely brilliant. but he inhabits a land that one could not possibly travel to. yesterday, we entered our reunion with him optimistic about the proposal for our remaining weeks. we left scratching our heads.
our proposal for work was to construct a small addition, approximately 4 square meters, complete with several of his brilliant innovations. we were going to have a mini-biogas plant that converts biomatter into energy, fashioned out of discarded barrels. the outside was going to include a solar water cooker made from tetra pak, a small garden, composting area, and a few other potentialities. additionally, we were going to look into securing funding so that people from the villas would learn how to weld and thereafter be able to create mini-biogas plants as a career endeavor. carlos approved our idea as proposed via email, he just had to see our drawings yesterday.
it was about 45 minutes into our reunion before we were able to finally present what we had done, or even to talk for that matter. he used the initial time to draw mountains, talk about bending iron bars, show us a beehive on his deck, and display how people can walk under aquaducts. you don´t need to ask, it didn´t really flow for us either. when it came time for us to show him our plan, he had some constructive criticism and i must say that he clearly knows what he´s talking about. i tried to suppress my frustration that we hadn´t hit the mark and then we had our breakthrough after telling him we weren´t architects.
¿you´re not architects?
no carlos, we´re not architects. this cleared us of the responsibility of designing the apparatus, and i think we´ll still be able to follow through with the rest of our plan. but i have to say, it was pretty fun to pretend to be an architect for a few weeks there. it was fun to design, to take these materials and think of a way to improve lives by constructing something. now we have to return to being idealistic policy wonks.
we have a couple days here to devise the way forward and i´m optimistic that we can offer value to a pretty cool project. in the meantime, we´ll just continue to scratch our heads, think, and just laugh at planeta carlos.
that, and prepare for our national television appearance that he has arranged for us tuesday morning.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
para llevar
san telmo, buenos aires
among the disappointments i have encountered here must be included el alboroto surrounding the opening of the nation´s first starbucks. lines around the corner, articles in the newspaper, and general chatter among the masses has been bestowed on this agent of globalization and i find myself bothered. sure, the process is inevitable and i enjoy the occasional latte from time to time. but not aca.
this is one of those great places where cafe is everywhere but to-go cups are scarce. you are supposed to enjoy your cafe con crema (espresso served with a dollop of sweet cream). you are allowed to savor your cafe con leche and to eat the little biscuit that is served with it. but to ask for your coffee para llevar would be nothing less than an affront in this culture, and i believe with good reason. there are certain things that are too be enjoyed in life, ¿and why should we not allow ourselves to enjoy our caffeinated syrum in the mañana (or tarde)?
i almost find the american to-go obsession similar to a linguistic barrier i´ve noticed with the spanish language. you can translate that you are looking forward to something, but that would only indicate where your eyes are directed. you can say that you are excited about something, but the literal translation has a more lascivious implication. you can say that you tengo ganas, but that is about the only phrase the spanish use, and at a more modest clip than we yanks.
maybe we should stop looking forward to things, stop being excited about some future event, stop being eager for the next thing. we should wake up and smell the coffee, but take pause to enjoy drinking it as well.
among the disappointments i have encountered here must be included el alboroto surrounding the opening of the nation´s first starbucks. lines around the corner, articles in the newspaper, and general chatter among the masses has been bestowed on this agent of globalization and i find myself bothered. sure, the process is inevitable and i enjoy the occasional latte from time to time. but not aca.
this is one of those great places where cafe is everywhere but to-go cups are scarce. you are supposed to enjoy your cafe con crema (espresso served with a dollop of sweet cream). you are allowed to savor your cafe con leche and to eat the little biscuit that is served with it. but to ask for your coffee para llevar would be nothing less than an affront in this culture, and i believe with good reason. there are certain things that are too be enjoyed in life, ¿and why should we not allow ourselves to enjoy our caffeinated syrum in the mañana (or tarde)?
i almost find the american to-go obsession similar to a linguistic barrier i´ve noticed with the spanish language. you can translate that you are looking forward to something, but that would only indicate where your eyes are directed. you can say that you are excited about something, but the literal translation has a more lascivious implication. you can say that you tengo ganas, but that is about the only phrase the spanish use, and at a more modest clip than we yanks.
maybe we should stop looking forward to things, stop being excited about some future event, stop being eager for the next thing. we should wake up and smell the coffee, but take pause to enjoy drinking it as well.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
la huelga
belgrano, buenos aires
you know that if there is not a strike, or at least serious discussions about a strike, then you are not in latin america. for as much as many argentine´s, or specifically porteños, would like to think they are not, this country is in latin america and the current imbroglio is further evidence.
from my limited second-language information gathering skills and short tenure en pais:
to make a long story short (and short story long), the country can be summarized by a city that holds 1/3 of the population and an agricultural sector that earns 1/2 of its GDP. the agricultural sector, campo, has predominately been comprised of an oligarchic elite while many of BA´s inhabitants flirt with just about any measure of poverty. entonces, when argentina´s experienced hyperinflation at the beginning of the decade, it was the campo that bailed the country out and ushered in the system from which the present government derives.
within the past months, the gobierno has imposed various levies and taxes on agricultural exports at a time when global commodity prices are soaring and this country has the infrastructure (and hungry asian trading partners) to facilitate a windfall in profits. these tariffs are intended to finance new initiatives throughout the country, but especially within the city, to ameliorate the living standards of those with the least. from my understanding, the proposed taxes doubled to around 43% instead of a more modest proposal. as i see it, the gobierno followed through with great intentions but has badly played their hand. so, the campo has been on strike for months, curtailing production and threatening to withhold food from the city.
the campo feels aggieved by having recently bailed out the country from a financial crisis to now having these steep taxes imposed on them. the gobierno feels a responsibility to leverage the nation´s greatest economic asset to raise the prospects of the urban poor. as usual, in this battle between two giants it is the ground that suffers. large-scale producers and the urban elite are still doing well, while the little- and medium-guy who now has to compete with excess local competition is bearing the brunt. to add insult, campo representatives have poured thousands of litres of milk in the streets and slaughtered cows just to show their disdain for the gobierno.
a piece of urban graffiti best summarizes my sentiment:
you know that if there is not a strike, or at least serious discussions about a strike, then you are not in latin america. for as much as many argentine´s, or specifically porteños, would like to think they are not, this country is in latin america and the current imbroglio is further evidence.
from my limited second-language information gathering skills and short tenure en pais:
to make a long story short (and short story long), the country can be summarized by a city that holds 1/3 of the population and an agricultural sector that earns 1/2 of its GDP. the agricultural sector, campo, has predominately been comprised of an oligarchic elite while many of BA´s inhabitants flirt with just about any measure of poverty. entonces, when argentina´s experienced hyperinflation at the beginning of the decade, it was the campo that bailed the country out and ushered in the system from which the present government derives.
within the past months, the gobierno has imposed various levies and taxes on agricultural exports at a time when global commodity prices are soaring and this country has the infrastructure (and hungry asian trading partners) to facilitate a windfall in profits. these tariffs are intended to finance new initiatives throughout the country, but especially within the city, to ameliorate the living standards of those with the least. from my understanding, the proposed taxes doubled to around 43% instead of a more modest proposal. as i see it, the gobierno followed through with great intentions but has badly played their hand. so, the campo has been on strike for months, curtailing production and threatening to withhold food from the city.
the campo feels aggieved by having recently bailed out the country from a financial crisis to now having these steep taxes imposed on them. the gobierno feels a responsibility to leverage the nation´s greatest economic asset to raise the prospects of the urban poor. as usual, in this battle between two giants it is the ground that suffers. large-scale producers and the urban elite are still doing well, while the little- and medium-guy who now has to compete with excess local competition is bearing the brunt. to add insult, campo representatives have poured thousands of litres of milk in the streets and slaughtered cows just to show their disdain for the gobierno.
a piece of urban graffiti best summarizes my sentiment:
con la comida, no se joda
(don´t fuck with the food)
Saturday, June 14, 2008
mejores aires
cordoba, argentina
nearly two hundred years ago, a man named manuel belgrano designed a flag to inspire his troops before battle. his presence is still felt, through his appearance on the 10 peso bill and the three day weekend that we are now enjoying. along with mark, i boarded an overnight, 10-hour bus ride (bus company: quebus!!) that brought us to cordoba, a charming little town in the middle of the country. not only is the destination delightful, but the bus ride shattered south american transportation stereotypes through its comfortable seats and lack of a jean van damme movie blaring at full volume.
as exciting as bus rides can be, it is back to this charming city that my attention turns. i can´t help but feel as if this were the argentinian version of denver. it is located in the middle of the country, there is a small stream that bisects the main thoroughfare (like speere), and there is a sizable population living in a city that feels so small and easily navigable. if that weren´t enough, there are a fair share of stores selling gaucho gear, though it is as fair to say that there are as many people who ride their horse to work here as their are in denver. the same distrust of the big city and pride in the western way seem to exist, making this a comfortable place to be.
yet alas, our stay here will be but one night. tomorrow we will move on to a small town in the nearby sierras to get a little mountain air and perhaps a hike. buenos aires is such an amazing city, but i´ve found myself clearing my throat a little too much from diesel exhaust and needing a reprieve from hourlong commutes to fadu. so far, so good, and hopefully my panting up the slope of a mountain can do a bit to recharge the batteries. and to think, all it took was a 20-hour round trip west.
nearly two hundred years ago, a man named manuel belgrano designed a flag to inspire his troops before battle. his presence is still felt, through his appearance on the 10 peso bill and the three day weekend that we are now enjoying. along with mark, i boarded an overnight, 10-hour bus ride (bus company: quebus!!) that brought us to cordoba, a charming little town in the middle of the country. not only is the destination delightful, but the bus ride shattered south american transportation stereotypes through its comfortable seats and lack of a jean van damme movie blaring at full volume.
as exciting as bus rides can be, it is back to this charming city that my attention turns. i can´t help but feel as if this were the argentinian version of denver. it is located in the middle of the country, there is a small stream that bisects the main thoroughfare (like speere), and there is a sizable population living in a city that feels so small and easily navigable. if that weren´t enough, there are a fair share of stores selling gaucho gear, though it is as fair to say that there are as many people who ride their horse to work here as their are in denver. the same distrust of the big city and pride in the western way seem to exist, making this a comfortable place to be.
yet alas, our stay here will be but one night. tomorrow we will move on to a small town in the nearby sierras to get a little mountain air and perhaps a hike. buenos aires is such an amazing city, but i´ve found myself clearing my throat a little too much from diesel exhaust and needing a reprieve from hourlong commutes to fadu. so far, so good, and hopefully my panting up the slope of a mountain can do a bit to recharge the batteries. and to think, all it took was a 20-hour round trip west.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
jornadas
la boca, buenos aires
for those of us working with fadu, this first week has included meetings with our new supervisors, sessions about goals and expectations, and attendance at a conference being held in the fourth floor assembly room. the seminarios habitat y pobreza has consisted of 5 days of speakers with various subtopics addressing housing issues for the poor, primarily in buenos aires. el lunes brought a great speaker about the history of urban development, el martes was about land value appreciation, while the topic of titles was reserved for miercoles. though i wish them well, i'm glad that todays speaker was feeling under the weather and had to cancel.
if you want an impression of what it is like to be there, i could mention that during yesterday afternoon's discussion one man began snoring while another kicked over his thermos in his nascent sleep. and they speak spanish. what hope do i have with that? the first day i felt like my former dying ipod battery: i could focus and perform for a few seconds, but after that i just took up desk space.
i'm doing well enough understanding people, my own speaking ability is questionable, but i tend to do better in a restaurant, supermercados, or dealing with bus drivers. real estate and architectural trade vocabulary are in a spanish course that i have yet to take. that is not to say that the subjects are boring or inappropriate. if anything, as somebody interested in urban land inequality this is a good way to spend a tuesday. but still, i have been glad to be attending preliminary meetings with carlos and my group rather than attending the jornadas.
tomorrow will be the final charlas of the conference. though work will pick up elsewhere, i'm pretty sure this will open up a window to get a tutor to prepare for the next seminario. then, if i fall asleep in public, it will not be because of lack of language comprehension.
for those of us working with fadu, this first week has included meetings with our new supervisors, sessions about goals and expectations, and attendance at a conference being held in the fourth floor assembly room. the seminarios habitat y pobreza has consisted of 5 days of speakers with various subtopics addressing housing issues for the poor, primarily in buenos aires. el lunes brought a great speaker about the history of urban development, el martes was about land value appreciation, while the topic of titles was reserved for miercoles. though i wish them well, i'm glad that todays speaker was feeling under the weather and had to cancel.
if you want an impression of what it is like to be there, i could mention that during yesterday afternoon's discussion one man began snoring while another kicked over his thermos in his nascent sleep. and they speak spanish. what hope do i have with that? the first day i felt like my former dying ipod battery: i could focus and perform for a few seconds, but after that i just took up desk space.
i'm doing well enough understanding people, my own speaking ability is questionable, but i tend to do better in a restaurant, supermercados, or dealing with bus drivers. real estate and architectural trade vocabulary are in a spanish course that i have yet to take. that is not to say that the subjects are boring or inappropriate. if anything, as somebody interested in urban land inequality this is a good way to spend a tuesday. but still, i have been glad to be attending preliminary meetings with carlos and my group rather than attending the jornadas.
tomorrow will be the final charlas of the conference. though work will pick up elsewhere, i'm pretty sure this will open up a window to get a tutor to prepare for the next seminario. then, if i fall asleep in public, it will not be because of lack of language comprehension.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
carlos
san telmo, buenos aires
yesterday afternoon was our fourth encounter with local architect carlos levinton, the direct supervisor for my group of three. yesterday´s reunion was distinct because it was the first in which we heard specifics about what we may actually do. still, it may not have been completely claro.
we will be working out of estudio levinton, a comfortable space attached to the second floor of his home in the belgrano district of town. the home is what you would think of an architects home: everything is circular, modern, and has a steely comfort. the studio, especially, is what you would imagine to be an architects working space. it is organized chaos. there have to be thousands of free floating papers containing sketches and proposals. these are sometimes stuffed into folders, other times sitting in somewhat neatly stacked piles on one of his desks. the studio has plenty of books as well, though many are haphazardly stacked without spines displayed on high shelves. still, there are large windows and the studio feels modern, but the appearance of the studio bears close resemblance to its occupants mind.
el profesor loco, as he can appropriately be labeled, is exceptionally smart. through glimpses of his work, his models, and his introduction, it is obvious that he is accomplished and deserving. but he´s also a bit crazy. he told us to translate a document while he worked, then proceded to translate it for us in a sort of socratic method. he drew elaborate designs of a sustainable house for pobrezas that we are going to be designing (will fill you in on this later) then somehow we segued into talking about tsunami shelters. we all came away from the meeting with two impressions:
yesterday afternoon was our fourth encounter with local architect carlos levinton, the direct supervisor for my group of three. yesterday´s reunion was distinct because it was the first in which we heard specifics about what we may actually do. still, it may not have been completely claro.
we will be working out of estudio levinton, a comfortable space attached to the second floor of his home in the belgrano district of town. the home is what you would think of an architects home: everything is circular, modern, and has a steely comfort. the studio, especially, is what you would imagine to be an architects working space. it is organized chaos. there have to be thousands of free floating papers containing sketches and proposals. these are sometimes stuffed into folders, other times sitting in somewhat neatly stacked piles on one of his desks. the studio has plenty of books as well, though many are haphazardly stacked without spines displayed on high shelves. still, there are large windows and the studio feels modern, but the appearance of the studio bears close resemblance to its occupants mind.
el profesor loco, as he can appropriately be labeled, is exceptionally smart. through glimpses of his work, his models, and his introduction, it is obvious that he is accomplished and deserving. but he´s also a bit crazy. he told us to translate a document while he worked, then proceded to translate it for us in a sort of socratic method. he drew elaborate designs of a sustainable house for pobrezas that we are going to be designing (will fill you in on this later) then somehow we segued into talking about tsunami shelters. we all came away from the meeting with two impressions:
! and ?
for added effect, he showed us a bit of his home before we left and we saw his son, a slovenly teenager engrossed in some sort of computer deejay simulation. it just seems so appropriate.
for added effect, he showed us a bit of his home before we left and we saw his son, a slovenly teenager engrossed in some sort of computer deejay simulation. it just seems so appropriate.
Monday, June 9, 2008
besos y mejillas
la boca, buenos aires
while i was preparing for my trip down here, i had been in contact with a number of people affiliated with fadu and my housing situation through email. these were always done in spanish and i noticed that my counterparts, whom i´d yet to meet, signed off with un beso (a kiss). while i realized upon arrival that this was more than just a salutatory remark, i can now see that a kiss may be just a kiss.
upon seeing a familiar, or even a new face, it is custom to lean in and give them an innocent peck on the cheek. acceptable and possibly more common, is to connect cheeks and peck the air. i could not say how much time between encounters needs to elapse to make a beso a required greeting. definitely a day, but my guess would be that it would be that an absense long enough for both parties to change clothes would be sufficient.
what´s so amusing about this greeting is about how it has permeated within our group of gringos. in the first large group meetings, we would stand awkwardly and kiss one another´s cheeks when we made the rounds that included some of our hosts. now, with or without locals, we give and receive confidently as if we were lifelong porteños.
the final beso adoption, which is coming slowly, is to give this kiss to men as the locals do. adopting the ´when in rome´ mantra, i ventured to peck my supervisor´s cheek a week ago. it was received without protest, but don´t know if that´s attributable to the custom or the fact that a towering 6´6 bearded freak of nature descended onto an unsuspecting architect. still, it´s nice to do as the locals do and try to shed the residual homophobia so ingrained in the american psyche.
maybe it is the atmosphere that lets us drop some of our american pretensions, or to assume those of buenos aires. it is nice to add a little formality when greeting someone, even if you see them every day or happen to be of the same gender. a gentle brush of mejillas and a kind word are welcome in the age of globalization and i wouldn´t mind seeing more of this custom back in the states. still, the mullet´s not making the flight home.
while i was preparing for my trip down here, i had been in contact with a number of people affiliated with fadu and my housing situation through email. these were always done in spanish and i noticed that my counterparts, whom i´d yet to meet, signed off with un beso (a kiss). while i realized upon arrival that this was more than just a salutatory remark, i can now see that a kiss may be just a kiss.
upon seeing a familiar, or even a new face, it is custom to lean in and give them an innocent peck on the cheek. acceptable and possibly more common, is to connect cheeks and peck the air. i could not say how much time between encounters needs to elapse to make a beso a required greeting. definitely a day, but my guess would be that it would be that an absense long enough for both parties to change clothes would be sufficient.
what´s so amusing about this greeting is about how it has permeated within our group of gringos. in the first large group meetings, we would stand awkwardly and kiss one another´s cheeks when we made the rounds that included some of our hosts. now, with or without locals, we give and receive confidently as if we were lifelong porteños.
the final beso adoption, which is coming slowly, is to give this kiss to men as the locals do. adopting the ´when in rome´ mantra, i ventured to peck my supervisor´s cheek a week ago. it was received without protest, but don´t know if that´s attributable to the custom or the fact that a towering 6´6 bearded freak of nature descended onto an unsuspecting architect. still, it´s nice to do as the locals do and try to shed the residual homophobia so ingrained in the american psyche.
maybe it is the atmosphere that lets us drop some of our american pretensions, or to assume those of buenos aires. it is nice to add a little formality when greeting someone, even if you see them every day or happen to be of the same gender. a gentle brush of mejillas and a kind word are welcome in the age of globalization and i wouldn´t mind seeing more of this custom back in the states. still, the mullet´s not making the flight home.
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