So, in the biggest surprise I've had in quite some time, my best friend taps me on the shoulder outside of Greenhouse - the venue that was happy enough to host my 29th birthday party during arguably the busiest and most difficult weekened in NYC to have a party, aka Fashion Week - and says "so, is there a list or something?" What makes this a real surprise, is that he works/lives in Brasil, and had told me that he couldn't make the trip, and that I'd be seeing him the following week anyway upon my arrival in São Paulo, so I wouldn't have expected him to have made the schlep to NYC for a long weekend.
As luck would have it, he finagled his way up north for work, as his lawfirm required his assistance on some case - details spared. Indeed, it was a great surprise, and I had a genuine smile to have seen him. Our mutual friends apparently conspired to keep this little secret from me... nice work guys!
The nite was awesome, having met a bunch of 'randoms' who apparently couldn't get in to the club because they weren't on a list, we happily invited the foursome to join our table and enjoy our company - they obliged, ha! The group, we were probably 12-15 over the course of the nite, held down the fort, with our table in front of the dj booth, with noone other than Funkmaster Flex at the wheel. I am pretty sure that the last remaining peole stumbled out of there around 6/7a, with great pictures and a pet baby alligator to boot!
Happy birthday to me! What's on tap for 3-0?!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Medellín
Having totally enjoyed myself, beyond the wildest of expectations, I knew that I was destined to head back to Colombia, and had been eyeing the Fería de Flores (festival of flowers; on a side note, exotic flowers are one of the largest exports from the country) toward the end of July/Early August - when I first learned about the festival, it seemed like a relatively beautful festival to attend in the middle of the Medellín summer; I mean, how do you go wrong with a lush city, filled with beautiful people, architecture, and exotic flowers...
Needless to say, I was then sold on the idea when I found out the festival coincided with ColombiaModa (fashion week) - so, what was there to do, other than to make my way out of the dead of winter in BA and head to the middle of the summer in Medellín... I took the opportunity to move out of my apartment in BA with Lau (it would be the last time we saw eachother, haha, j/k - she got another place and is still in BA), and set out on what would be a 'new' 6 months in the life of Adam, or as I have started to be called by my close friends, Alan (side-story: Lau's parents were in town, and I put my name down for a table a restaurant for all of us, and when the woman called 'my' name, she said "Alan" so since then, Lau & Co have called me Alan as a funny Argentine joke because noone can pronounce ADAM - here, the figure is Adán - as my D and L apparently have a similar sound when speaking Spanish).
As it turned out, a buddy of mine from high school, Paul Anderson, was going to be in Medellín as well, as he launched an import/export consulting business, and had been eyeing textiles from Latin America for importation to the US, so fashion week proved to be a good breeding ground for a potential launch of a Colombian outpost - or at the least, to meet a few groups interested in getting their fashion lines to the US. He and I had caught up beforehand to arrange a few times to get together and meet up for events, parties, etc, so it was a good chance to have a wingman in a foreign place - we each had friends in Medellín, so it was an easy pull the groups together for some joda (fun).
Having already been through Medellín, I had seen most of the cultural attractions, museums, etc, so it gave me an opportunity to explore a bit, on top of the work I was continuing for a project in Baires. It seemed a bit more like a 'real' situation to be in a place (I had rented an apartment for the 2 weeks I was there), versus living from a backpack, bouncing from place to place, as I had the previous trip. As commercially vibrant as I had remembered from the previous trip, which took place during the Inter-American Bank of Development's 50th Anniversary congregation, something about a gorgeous city, with gorgeous people, celebrating a 'local' holiday made the city jump out more - the fact that it was smack in the middle of the summer probably didn't hurt the causa.
From the desfile de caballos - a parade of sorts, whereby each of the communities in Antioquia (the Colombian region/state in which Medellín sits) bring their best show horses - decorated in representative attire, colors, and other cultural elements - and 'treats' for the two week festival, and literally shut the city down for one day, waltzing thru the streets. It is an all-out party day, everyone drinking Paisa beer and micheladas, and eating fresh grilled corn, filled arepas, and chorizo - basically, a carnival's selection of greats foods that are horrible for you.
The feel of the place was amazing, and you could just pop from tent to tent, street to street, and grassy knoll to grassy knoll, meeting new people, 'cheersing' to whatever you wanted, and enjoying the weather and the people (did I mention how good looking the women are in Medellín?)... The energy that continued thru to the evenings was electric, with the entire city seemingly partying without care for the following day - La Fería is effectively a two-week holiday, so it's no wonder the evening festivities were Aguardiente-loaded with house music pumping: in a word, chévere!
Needless to say, I was then sold on the idea when I found out the festival coincided with ColombiaModa (fashion week) - so, what was there to do, other than to make my way out of the dead of winter in BA and head to the middle of the summer in Medellín... I took the opportunity to move out of my apartment in BA with Lau (it would be the last time we saw eachother, haha, j/k - she got another place and is still in BA), and set out on what would be a 'new' 6 months in the life of Adam, or as I have started to be called by my close friends, Alan (side-story: Lau's parents were in town, and I put my name down for a table a restaurant for all of us, and when the woman called 'my' name, she said "Alan" so since then, Lau & Co have called me Alan as a funny Argentine joke because noone can pronounce ADAM - here, the figure is Adán - as my D and L apparently have a similar sound when speaking Spanish).
As it turned out, a buddy of mine from high school, Paul Anderson, was going to be in Medellín as well, as he launched an import/export consulting business, and had been eyeing textiles from Latin America for importation to the US, so fashion week proved to be a good breeding ground for a potential launch of a Colombian outpost - or at the least, to meet a few groups interested in getting their fashion lines to the US. He and I had caught up beforehand to arrange a few times to get together and meet up for events, parties, etc, so it was a good chance to have a wingman in a foreign place - we each had friends in Medellín, so it was an easy pull the groups together for some joda (fun).
Having already been through Medellín, I had seen most of the cultural attractions, museums, etc, so it gave me an opportunity to explore a bit, on top of the work I was continuing for a project in Baires. It seemed a bit more like a 'real' situation to be in a place (I had rented an apartment for the 2 weeks I was there), versus living from a backpack, bouncing from place to place, as I had the previous trip. As commercially vibrant as I had remembered from the previous trip, which took place during the Inter-American Bank of Development's 50th Anniversary congregation, something about a gorgeous city, with gorgeous people, celebrating a 'local' holiday made the city jump out more - the fact that it was smack in the middle of the summer probably didn't hurt the causa.
From the desfile de caballos - a parade of sorts, whereby each of the communities in Antioquia (the Colombian region/state in which Medellín sits) bring their best show horses - decorated in representative attire, colors, and other cultural elements - and 'treats' for the two week festival, and literally shut the city down for one day, waltzing thru the streets. It is an all-out party day, everyone drinking Paisa beer and micheladas, and eating fresh grilled corn, filled arepas, and chorizo - basically, a carnival's selection of greats foods that are horrible for you.
The feel of the place was amazing, and you could just pop from tent to tent, street to street, and grassy knoll to grassy knoll, meeting new people, 'cheersing' to whatever you wanted, and enjoying the weather and the people (did I mention how good looking the women are in Medellín?)... The energy that continued thru to the evenings was electric, with the entire city seemingly partying without care for the following day - La Fería is effectively a two-week holiday, so it's no wonder the evening festivities were Aguardiente-loaded with house music pumping: in a word, chévere!
The Launch!
Wilshire Hospitality... It's a name that I believe has several meanings, rings true to the core, and sounds pretty flippin' good... To give y'all a bit of background, when the Shindler Clan of LSD (that's Lake Shore Drive people, c'mon) moved from the digs overlooking Belmont Harbor, we crash landed in Wilmette, specifically, 'Hollywood in Wilmette' on a little street called Wilshire Drive East... From there, I think the rest should be relatively self-explanatory, as I was admitted (by the grace of someone's magic wand) to Cornell's 'prestigious' School of Hotel Administration while living on Wilshire Drive East... Some could legitimately argue that my hospitality career began when Carey was born, as that is when Dad opted to take the trip from real estate to hotels... It was probably one of the many Levy-genes that I inherited that got me in to this business in some way shape or form, but it has seemingly all worked out for the best...
However, I digress... I knew pretty early on in my Cornell days that I wanted to be on the ownership side, and in the late 90's/early 00's, the 'in-thing' seemed to be naming your fun after the street on which the office was located, so, I very quickly, and very astutely, selected Wilshire Hospitality as the 'brand' that I would create in some way shape or form (hotel ownership, asset management/services/consulting, operations of hotels/restaurants/bars/clubs, etc...) down the road when I was an adult and could be treated as such and respected by my peer group.
So, after partying ways with Gettys in the summer (northern hemisphere) of 2008, I began some independent, project-based consulting for some previous employers, and had the chance to work with Dad on a few projects he was kind enough to bring me in to, which was great, and quite rewarding. Working side-by-side with him (the client happened to be a father-son team as well) gave me the confidence (not just because he was blowing smoke up my ass) that I actually could work in the industry as a projessional, and that the experience that I had so meticulously charted over the previous years had apparently paid off...
It was pretty soon thereafter that I began using Wilshire Hospitality as the trade name (Adam Shindler d/b/a Wilshire Hospitality), and it wasn't until about 8 months later that I actually got myself up and running with a web-page (I expect to have the next versions published soon), email address, logo, etc... A good friend of mine from NYC, an Argentine guy who has really helped me get comfortable here, has been my designer for everything, and he will probably be fed up with my tendencies for absolute perfection when this process is all said and done, but so far, I now have a brand, I have a mark, I have a client, and I'm working on the rest as it comes together...
I'm pretty excited that I'm still moving toward a goal I had when I was 18, and I'm living the dream every day... Here's to the rest of 2009, and making dreams come alive!
This, of course, is coming from an insider's perspective (p.s. that's my tag line)...
However, I digress... I knew pretty early on in my Cornell days that I wanted to be on the ownership side, and in the late 90's/early 00's, the 'in-thing' seemed to be naming your fun after the street on which the office was located, so, I very quickly, and very astutely, selected Wilshire Hospitality as the 'brand' that I would create in some way shape or form (hotel ownership, asset management/services/consulting, operations of hotels/restaurants/bars/clubs, etc...) down the road when I was an adult and could be treated as such and respected by my peer group.
So, after partying ways with Gettys in the summer (northern hemisphere) of 2008, I began some independent, project-based consulting for some previous employers, and had the chance to work with Dad on a few projects he was kind enough to bring me in to, which was great, and quite rewarding. Working side-by-side with him (the client happened to be a father-son team as well) gave me the confidence (not just because he was blowing smoke up my ass) that I actually could work in the industry as a projessional, and that the experience that I had so meticulously charted over the previous years had apparently paid off...
It was pretty soon thereafter that I began using Wilshire Hospitality as the trade name (Adam Shindler d/b/a Wilshire Hospitality), and it wasn't until about 8 months later that I actually got myself up and running with a web-page (I expect to have the next versions published soon), email address, logo, etc... A good friend of mine from NYC, an Argentine guy who has really helped me get comfortable here, has been my designer for everything, and he will probably be fed up with my tendencies for absolute perfection when this process is all said and done, but so far, I now have a brand, I have a mark, I have a client, and I'm working on the rest as it comes together...
I'm pretty excited that I'm still moving toward a goal I had when I was 18, and I'm living the dream every day... Here's to the rest of 2009, and making dreams come alive!
This, of course, is coming from an insider's perspective (p.s. that's my tag line)...
Monday, June 15, 2009
6 Months!
It is always pretty amazing at how quickly time flies, and I'll just suggest that time may actually travel at super-sonic speed in Buenos Aires... A year to the day, I remember where I was, and I'll only say that it was not pretty... Man, how a year really can change your life - and for the record, I could not be in a better place to be living my dream...
Simply amazing, and the life I am trying to 'start' (relatively speaking) seem to be spot on, and I always excited to wake up with a smile on my face - so far, I have woken up every day, so that's a huge plus!
I have been rather fortunate thus far in finding a great group of friends, both Argentines and ex-pats, a team to play soccer with on weekends, and a pick-up game during the week, and a few clients to work with, all of which have helped me feel even more comfortable in the parts, not to mention a supportive family that puts up with me living on a different continent (I think their recent visit probably helped the 'get over it' a bit). It has been interesting to be a part of what seems to have been a migration of sorts, but not with much permanence - rather, people have arrived in waves, traveled, maybe stayed put for a few weeks or a couple of months, and then returned to where they came from or continued further travels in the region or the world (one friend literally circumnavigated the globe and only recently returned to northern California).
These brief stints have been both positive and negative, the latter of which has brought a bit more perspective on the life that 'we' lead down here as ex-pats versus the transient nature of being the 'host' to travelers from abroad. As can be said in other parts of the world, making friends, close ones, is always something that takes time - caveat: when you click with someone, it often isn't a long process - and as tricky as it has been to break in to the 'local' community, for obvious reasons, investing much time with the array of ex-pats is equally tricky, as you never really know when someone may pick up and leave. The most common series of questions that I have received from ex=pats follow:
1. When did you get here?
2. What do you do here?
3. For how long are you staying?
It is almost a certainty that when meeting someone new, these questions will be the basis for a conversation that can then take on various forms. At this point, I have begun to tell the newer ex-pats to learn the answers in Castellano, so the responses are 'cleaner, and well-rehearsed - it has certainly worked for me to perfect the answers/topics of conversation in Castellano so I can increase my rate of speech, comprehension, surrounding intimately familiar themes. It has been a wild 6 months, and I am finally looking forward to feeling a bit more settled and getting myself more established in my new home...
As they say here, "me cayó bien"...
Simply amazing, and the life I am trying to 'start' (relatively speaking) seem to be spot on, and I always excited to wake up with a smile on my face - so far, I have woken up every day, so that's a huge plus!
I have been rather fortunate thus far in finding a great group of friends, both Argentines and ex-pats, a team to play soccer with on weekends, and a pick-up game during the week, and a few clients to work with, all of which have helped me feel even more comfortable in the parts, not to mention a supportive family that puts up with me living on a different continent (I think their recent visit probably helped the 'get over it' a bit). It has been interesting to be a part of what seems to have been a migration of sorts, but not with much permanence - rather, people have arrived in waves, traveled, maybe stayed put for a few weeks or a couple of months, and then returned to where they came from or continued further travels in the region or the world (one friend literally circumnavigated the globe and only recently returned to northern California).
These brief stints have been both positive and negative, the latter of which has brought a bit more perspective on the life that 'we' lead down here as ex-pats versus the transient nature of being the 'host' to travelers from abroad. As can be said in other parts of the world, making friends, close ones, is always something that takes time - caveat: when you click with someone, it often isn't a long process - and as tricky as it has been to break in to the 'local' community, for obvious reasons, investing much time with the array of ex-pats is equally tricky, as you never really know when someone may pick up and leave. The most common series of questions that I have received from ex=pats follow:
1. When did you get here?
2. What do you do here?
3. For how long are you staying?
It is almost a certainty that when meeting someone new, these questions will be the basis for a conversation that can then take on various forms. At this point, I have begun to tell the newer ex-pats to learn the answers in Castellano, so the responses are 'cleaner, and well-rehearsed - it has certainly worked for me to perfect the answers/topics of conversation in Castellano so I can increase my rate of speech, comprehension, surrounding intimately familiar themes. It has been a wild 6 months, and I am finally looking forward to feeling a bit more settled and getting myself more established in my new home...
As they say here, "me cayó bien"...
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Siblings...
This isn't going to be long, cuz it's really only to suggest how cool it is to have siblings... As much as I would have traded Carey in from the time she was about 4 until she hit 13/14, I couldn't imaagine a life without a little sis - she's pretty awesome, and for those who have met her, probably put her on par with a rockstar slash comedian.
She's the best little sister, and my best friend, and as much as I'd like her to join the fray in South America, she's working on her own life, which apparently include buying a house, at 25... what?!
Lobe you :)
She's the best little sister, and my best friend, and as much as I'd like her to join the fray in South America, she's working on her own life, which apparently include buying a house, at 25... what?!
Lobe you :)
Friday, May 15, 2009
When Parents Come to Visit...
There are so many cliché phrases that come to mind when trying to relate yourself to your parents, growing up and becoming something (likely in an image of your parents)... For better or worse, we are our parents' offspring, and there a close genetic, social, cultural, ideological (etc) tie, obvio... In addition to those clichéd phrases, there are a handful of periods in ones life when we tend to be more critical/questioning of our parents, as people, as parents, as friends, etc...
1. 2-5: Why? This is less of an analytical period in our lives and more of a - literally, why? We are thirsty for knowledge and for right or wrong, assume that our parents have all the answers...
2. 10-13: Change... We begin becoming 'young adults' and, more now than ever, younger people are exposed to more 'global' affairs, social hierarchy, athletic competition (at a slightly higher level), and some of the trials and tribulations that our parents deal with on a daily basis...
3. 14-18: Idiots! During the high-school years, parents can generally only be described as utterly ridiculous, and mostly stupid - how could they understand so little about our lives, know so little about life, and be so blatantly dumb... This is certainly the stereotype, and no matter how great your parents (or mine for that matter) are/were, every kid has these thoughts at least once between these ages/within this schooling period.
4. 19-22: I love college! Maybe it is the ability to finally vote that begins a transformation to 'real' adulthood, but when you go to college (assuming you don't live at home and don't see your parents as frequently as you did in high school - caveat: being in South America changes this scale a bit - you begin to realize that your parents probably did a pretty good job of raising you, or at least, this is the hope that parents have, right? They want to be loved, respected, and treated like people who have done a good job in creating, raising, and supporting their offspring until they have reached a point of becoming a full-fledged, independent adult... At the same time, we, as 'children' can begin to unabashedly critique our parents, as humans, and less as parents - call this 'reflection'...
5. 22-29: Holy shit! Unfortunately, when you graduate from college (if it takes you more than 5 years, and you don't have multiple degrees, your parent are likely VERY supportive of whatever it is that you are dealing with on a more personal level), your eyes are wide open - I'm a college graduate, I have a job (hopefully), and I am trying to support myself, sweet!! Right, and then reality smacks you in the face, and you realize you need to budget the Rahmen noodles, hot dogs, PBR, and jungle juice because rent is expensive, your cell phone is not cheap with all the gadgets/plans you 'need' to have, the car, insurance, gas, parking adds up quick, and that doesn't even count the gym membership, nites out on the town with friends, and any other 'luxuries' like health insurance (ideally, your company's share keeps your premium down to a reasonable level, but good luck with 'additional' medical support for specialists like the dermatologist, the psychologist, opthomologist, etc)... The biggest adjustment that many of us 'children' need to make comes in the form of lifestyle, and often, this is when credit card debt becomes a problem for people in my generation. I've always been terrified of 'debt' on a personal/consumer level, because it suggests a lack of control, and excess beyond the means by which you have the ability to afford yourself the opportunity to live/continue living in such a form as you were provided by your parents - call this the wake up call. Life really begins, you are finding yourself, meeting your 'crew' (if you grow up and do not continue to only spend time with friends from high school and/or college - caveat: I have been lucky in that I have great friends from each stage, and have tried to incorporate all of them in to my life, together, to further unify the 'crew'), maybe your significant other, and potentially find a place for yourself in the world, all the while, realizing that your parents (with luck and health) are still around, and very supportive of your decisions. Clearly, I have the most to discuss in this area, as I feel the amount of growth I have made in this period has been remarkable, and certainly, have been at odds with my parents over a handful of things, as adults and parents over the years, but it is with each conversation with them, their parents, and the extended family, that I realize that I'm a pretty lucky kid...
6: 30+ Who knows?! I'm not their yet, but when I hit the big 3-0, gulp, I'm sure I'll have reached another point in my life to be more critical of my parents...
That all aside, my parents wanted to pay me a visit in South America - great call! As was the case in college, or, whenever I have lived outside of Chicago, it means, free stuff! I kid (sorta)... They had been extremely supportive of me in the decision to move abroad, follow my dreams, learn a language, etc, and it was only appropriate that we spent the better part of the first 4 months of my time here planning their trip to visit. With some luck, it overlapped with my sister's visit a bit, so the opportunity all be in the same place was pretty cool. That said, my parents aren't exactly travel junkies - my dad is on the road a lot for work, and my mom should probably be a New Yorker (afterall, she grew up in CT and went to college on Strong Island) and isn't much of a tourist, so, needless to say, I was given the role of guide, babysitter, event coordinator, concierge, etc...
It always seemed ok when the people who came to visit wanted to know about the City, do stuff, be shown about, etc, but when it's your parents, things seem to change - they won't go away, they are always in your business, etc... It's understandable that my parents wanted to experience what it was that I had been doing for the previous 5 months, but it felt an awful lot like interference, which totally prevented me from being 'normal' and in the end, it stressed me out beyond belief. Getting back to their traveling patterns, as a pair, I'm not sure of the last time they took an 'exploratory' vacation to a new place (I do not necessarily include weekend getaways with friends at a house, or a destination hotel/spa), so coming here was certainly a long trip. So, not being a huge walking pair - as I said, my mom should be a New Yorker, where taking cabs it the 'easier' thing to do - it was tough for me to suggest things to do, because BA is very much a walking/exploratory City, I mean, there are north of 12 million people who live here, so there's lots to see, but not as much to 'do' during the day...
We hit up the obligatory museums, some great restaurant spots for lunch and dinner, and I sent them on their own day of exploration to San Telmo, where they could have their own vacation, and not feel like they were only in South America to visit me - caveat (another): they continued on to Mendoza to do some wine touring/spa time, and then to Santiago, a city my dad had been to only once before for work, a long time ago...
In all, the 6 days I got to spend with my parents, in my new home - they were not too keen on me calling BA 'home' but, tough shit - was great, and despite the remarkable stress it caused me, I have realized that to have that opportunity (my parents coming to visit me in the country I live in, about a 16 hour door-to-door trip from Chicago) is really lucky.
Mom, Dad, thank you, I love you both.
When you come back, plan ahead... Besos y abrazos
1. 2-5: Why? This is less of an analytical period in our lives and more of a - literally, why? We are thirsty for knowledge and for right or wrong, assume that our parents have all the answers...
2. 10-13: Change... We begin becoming 'young adults' and, more now than ever, younger people are exposed to more 'global' affairs, social hierarchy, athletic competition (at a slightly higher level), and some of the trials and tribulations that our parents deal with on a daily basis...
3. 14-18: Idiots! During the high-school years, parents can generally only be described as utterly ridiculous, and mostly stupid - how could they understand so little about our lives, know so little about life, and be so blatantly dumb... This is certainly the stereotype, and no matter how great your parents (or mine for that matter) are/were, every kid has these thoughts at least once between these ages/within this schooling period.
4. 19-22: I love college! Maybe it is the ability to finally vote that begins a transformation to 'real' adulthood, but when you go to college (assuming you don't live at home and don't see your parents as frequently as you did in high school - caveat: being in South America changes this scale a bit - you begin to realize that your parents probably did a pretty good job of raising you, or at least, this is the hope that parents have, right? They want to be loved, respected, and treated like people who have done a good job in creating, raising, and supporting their offspring until they have reached a point of becoming a full-fledged, independent adult... At the same time, we, as 'children' can begin to unabashedly critique our parents, as humans, and less as parents - call this 'reflection'...
5. 22-29: Holy shit! Unfortunately, when you graduate from college (if it takes you more than 5 years, and you don't have multiple degrees, your parent are likely VERY supportive of whatever it is that you are dealing with on a more personal level), your eyes are wide open - I'm a college graduate, I have a job (hopefully), and I am trying to support myself, sweet!! Right, and then reality smacks you in the face, and you realize you need to budget the Rahmen noodles, hot dogs, PBR, and jungle juice because rent is expensive, your cell phone is not cheap with all the gadgets/plans you 'need' to have, the car, insurance, gas, parking adds up quick, and that doesn't even count the gym membership, nites out on the town with friends, and any other 'luxuries' like health insurance (ideally, your company's share keeps your premium down to a reasonable level, but good luck with 'additional' medical support for specialists like the dermatologist, the psychologist, opthomologist, etc)... The biggest adjustment that many of us 'children' need to make comes in the form of lifestyle, and often, this is when credit card debt becomes a problem for people in my generation. I've always been terrified of 'debt' on a personal/consumer level, because it suggests a lack of control, and excess beyond the means by which you have the ability to afford yourself the opportunity to live/continue living in such a form as you were provided by your parents - call this the wake up call. Life really begins, you are finding yourself, meeting your 'crew' (if you grow up and do not continue to only spend time with friends from high school and/or college - caveat: I have been lucky in that I have great friends from each stage, and have tried to incorporate all of them in to my life, together, to further unify the 'crew'), maybe your significant other, and potentially find a place for yourself in the world, all the while, realizing that your parents (with luck and health) are still around, and very supportive of your decisions. Clearly, I have the most to discuss in this area, as I feel the amount of growth I have made in this period has been remarkable, and certainly, have been at odds with my parents over a handful of things, as adults and parents over the years, but it is with each conversation with them, their parents, and the extended family, that I realize that I'm a pretty lucky kid...
6: 30+ Who knows?! I'm not their yet, but when I hit the big 3-0, gulp, I'm sure I'll have reached another point in my life to be more critical of my parents...
That all aside, my parents wanted to pay me a visit in South America - great call! As was the case in college, or, whenever I have lived outside of Chicago, it means, free stuff! I kid (sorta)... They had been extremely supportive of me in the decision to move abroad, follow my dreams, learn a language, etc, and it was only appropriate that we spent the better part of the first 4 months of my time here planning their trip to visit. With some luck, it overlapped with my sister's visit a bit, so the opportunity all be in the same place was pretty cool. That said, my parents aren't exactly travel junkies - my dad is on the road a lot for work, and my mom should probably be a New Yorker (afterall, she grew up in CT and went to college on Strong Island) and isn't much of a tourist, so, needless to say, I was given the role of guide, babysitter, event coordinator, concierge, etc...
It always seemed ok when the people who came to visit wanted to know about the City, do stuff, be shown about, etc, but when it's your parents, things seem to change - they won't go away, they are always in your business, etc... It's understandable that my parents wanted to experience what it was that I had been doing for the previous 5 months, but it felt an awful lot like interference, which totally prevented me from being 'normal' and in the end, it stressed me out beyond belief. Getting back to their traveling patterns, as a pair, I'm not sure of the last time they took an 'exploratory' vacation to a new place (I do not necessarily include weekend getaways with friends at a house, or a destination hotel/spa), so coming here was certainly a long trip. So, not being a huge walking pair - as I said, my mom should be a New Yorker, where taking cabs it the 'easier' thing to do - it was tough for me to suggest things to do, because BA is very much a walking/exploratory City, I mean, there are north of 12 million people who live here, so there's lots to see, but not as much to 'do' during the day...
We hit up the obligatory museums, some great restaurant spots for lunch and dinner, and I sent them on their own day of exploration to San Telmo, where they could have their own vacation, and not feel like they were only in South America to visit me - caveat (another): they continued on to Mendoza to do some wine touring/spa time, and then to Santiago, a city my dad had been to only once before for work, a long time ago...
In all, the 6 days I got to spend with my parents, in my new home - they were not too keen on me calling BA 'home' but, tough shit - was great, and despite the remarkable stress it caused me, I have realized that to have that opportunity (my parents coming to visit me in the country I live in, about a 16 hour door-to-door trip from Chicago) is really lucky.
Mom, Dad, thank you, I love you both.
When you come back, plan ahead... Besos y abrazos
Monday, May 11, 2009
Traveling with Women...
I have done this in the past, with both family and friends (including now ex-girlfriends), and I can safely say that the more women you travel with, the less 'cool' it actually is when compared to how 'cool' it sounds beforehand... Having lived women, I'm certainly privy to the many 'secrets' and predisposed notions about women's 'living' habits... I knew that traveling with three women, each her own personality, would be something I likely would not experience again, so I took it all in stride... Knowing the group quite well - Lau, Melanie, and of course, Carey, the level of prisiness (Melanie and Carey could have a serious debate about who is more prisy) would be relatively high, so I did my best to prepare them all for a less fanciful travel experience - overnite bus rides, hostels, backpacking (something Melanie did not known prior to arriving in BA), and generally speaking, not planning too far ahead and just kinda winging it...
Well, I learned something - guys and girls travel differently, obviously!
After a great trip in Mendoza, which included a great little hostel, it was clear my thoughs for a more low-key travel experience would likely not fly, as we had no concrete plans for Chile when we arrived in Santiago, and the hostelling experience, while great, was not going to happen again... So, we did what any 'normal' American group of backpackers would do - we went to the second-most expensive hotel in the City and got rooms... At this point, things were heated, as there was no real direction, and I was a little annoyed at girls being girls, and I'm sure they were, cumulively more annoyed at me being a boy...
Once we got thru this little 'hiccup' things were all good, but the experience is likely one that will not be had in the future - both because I'll be a bit more cautious in my 'planning' and I likely won't be traveling with 3 women, solo, not that I'd be opposed...
Well, I learned something - guys and girls travel differently, obviously!
After a great trip in Mendoza, which included a great little hostel, it was clear my thoughs for a more low-key travel experience would likely not fly, as we had no concrete plans for Chile when we arrived in Santiago, and the hostelling experience, while great, was not going to happen again... So, we did what any 'normal' American group of backpackers would do - we went to the second-most expensive hotel in the City and got rooms... At this point, things were heated, as there was no real direction, and I was a little annoyed at girls being girls, and I'm sure they were, cumulively more annoyed at me being a boy...
Once we got thru this little 'hiccup' things were all good, but the experience is likely one that will not be had in the future - both because I'll be a bit more cautious in my 'planning' and I likely won't be traveling with 3 women, solo, not that I'd be opposed...
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Chi, chi, chi, lay, lay, lay...
So, cruising through the Andes mountains, by bus, was pretty cool, however, traveling through the Eisenhower Pass outside of Denver, and entering a different world in the Rockies is something that still takes the cake in terms of breathtaking vistas - everytime I make that trip in Colorado, I am awestruck by the beauty... Alas, I digress, back to the Andes...
After a few days of wine-binging, gastro-gorging, and horseback-riding (se dice 'para hacer cabalgatas), Chile was on the agenda for a few days, with the idea of checking out Santiago and a town or two along the Pacific - either Viña del Mar and/or Valparaíso. However, after the hostel-ing experience in Mendoza, which was fantastic, the girls weren't all that interested in 'winging' it any longer, despite having received a few pointers with respect to where we should head when we got to Santiago. We were relatively unprepared with respect to the adventure that was forthcoming, as noone had really done any research (aside from a call/email to a few friends) on what to do, where to go, and how to get there, etc... We assumed (maybe, I assumed more than the girls) it'd be relatively easy, not too busy, and a good time. We weren't wrong, but each showed varying levels of ease, congestion, and fun-ness. So, pulling in to the bus station in Santiago after a 6-ish hour, National Geographic-inspired cruise through the Andes mountains - did I mention that it is gorgeous?! - we had the names/locations of a few hostels in different parts of town. As luck would have had it, the lady seated across the aisle from me had a Lonely Planet book with Chilean stuff, so we were able to score a few pictures of the maps, some recommendations, and a few phone numbers of places of interest. Unfortunately, none of them really mattered, as we couldn't figure out how to dial the numbers from either a US-based mobile, nor the Argentine mobiles... In addition to the in ability to dial, the girls were growing more frustrated (with me, for not having had 'planned' anything in particular), and I of them (for not being more open minded to not spending a ton of money on accommodations, and being 'girls'), so by a 3-1 vote, we decided to head to the Grand Hyatt Santiago, in Las Condes, one of, if not, the most expensive hotels in the nicest part of town... To provide some background on this decision, there was an outside chance of us receiving some special treatment from the GM, as he was a colleague of a colleague back in the day - unfortunately, he had resigned just 4 days earlier and was no longer at the hotel (we were aware of his leaving the post of GM, but not of the specific timing), so we got the special treatment alright, RACK RATE! So, after a bit of haggling and heavy breathing, we opted to take it easy for the nite, so my sister and I went with the flow and treated ourselves to a great Thai dinner in one of the 3 fine-dining restaurants within the hotel - seriously, the place is fantastic!
Other than that, Santiago wasn't really on our list of cities to explore, so we basically went to two places the following day - a tourist trap 'hill' that has been created as the all-in-one shopping destination for all things Chilean. It was certainly interesting, and pretty relaxing, but kind of far from the rest of town, which precluded us from walking the downtown area, as we needed to get to the funicular to ride to the top of Cerro San Cristóbal - the highest point in town, with a giant 'Rio-esque' statue of the Virgin Mary (we think)... After running around Santiago, which seems a lot smaller on a map, we bounced back to our luxury digs and packed the bags to head to Viña del Mar. In the 'argumentative' phase of this 'traveling with women vacation' (it was bound to happen at some point) the nite before, I opted to put my misery, and the girls' disinterest in hosteling, to bed, and made arrangements to stay at Starwood properties while speniding the week in Chile... This ended up being the saving grace of the trip, as we could all relax (albeit, spending a few quid more), and just enjoy the time together. So, with that, backpacks afull, we headed to the bus station to head to the Pacific.
Arriving in Viña was a bit interesting, as we weren't exactly sure what the process would have been because we weren't exactly sure where we were... We had been under the impression that the trip would be about 2 hours, so after about 90 minutes, we (e.g. "I") asked the bus driver how close we were to the Sheraton, and he immediately pulled over and suggested it was about 8 blocks behind where we were - apparently, we had made it, early... So, we hopped off, and yours truly, in a rush, left the bottle of vineyard produced olive oil from Achaval Ferrer, doh! We made our wandering way to the hotel, which was located 'in' the water, over the Pacific Ocean - it appeared, to my untrained eye, to be a relatively new-build property, and everything about it was pretty spot on. I'll spare you all the 'hotel branding abroad' conversation, but realize that a Sheraton down in these parts is a MUCh nicer hotel than we are accustomed to seeing in the US... When we got in, we got all situated, and wanted to go get some food, so the concierge arranged for a car service to take us to a seafood joint - we had all been crazing the 'frutas del mar' and I was particularly keen on finding some good, Chilean pisco to accompany a delectable creature from the ocean. At the place, Carey even managed to hold a pair of VERY old lobsters - apparently, the length of the tail is directly related to the age (naturally, but there was some metric that I cannot recall that made it easy), and these puppies were pushing 15 years old... At least, this was all according to the server, so, who knows!
The highlight of the Víña experience, and maybe that of Chile, was spent the next day, back on horses... We had had such a great time in Mendoza, that we wanted to do it all again, and the second go around on horses was INCREDIBLE!! We totally lucked out... Our hired driver for the weekend, a great guy, took us out of town, about 35 minutes north to what looked more like an outdoor adventure due ranch kind of place, and from the street, the property extended several miles to the ocean - truly breathtaking topography. At the front of the property was the main house, which included a huge sitting/eating/socializing room off of the kitchen, a nice little courtyward in the center, and what appeared to be a handful of bedrooms (maybe a B&B?), the stables, and the dog shed (they had a couple of wolves there, yo lo juro). As the property extended toward the ocean, there was what looked like an obstacle-type/ropes-esque course, a few ponds, and just a generally beautiful landscape (trees, water, hiking/riding paths, etc), which included mountainous sand dunes... This was clearly the highlight, as we didn't really know what was in store for the day - how long it would last, where we'd go, what type of riding we'd be doing, etc... So, after a few minutes of hanging out with the nice old lady who was cleaning some giant tarp with a hose, and playing with the dogs, a big, burly, caballero sauntered from the depths (this guy couldn't have been more of a caballero - worn leather gorro, beat up boots, with the spikey thing, long flowing pony-tail under the hat, a thick, flannel-like button down shirt, and some chapped up pants - and it was awesome... Melanie really liked him...
What came next, over the course of the day, was one of the coolest days I have ever had... We waltzed up to stables to get all horsed-up, and were greeted by a pack of dogs, including a few puppies (wow were they cute), some toothless wonders of hired stable-hands, and the horses, which ranged in size, color, coat, etc... We all got fitted to the corersponding horses that suited our sizes, and we were granted access to the array of gorros available in the 'office'... Then, once all situated, we were off, walking toward the 'ropes' course and toward the dunes... The next few hours, we climbed/descended in the dunes, making our way through the gorgeous landscape that we were lucky enough to be a part of, as we made our way toward the ocean. As we approached, the duines turned to a more fertile, less 'hilly' topography, with more plants, trees, vegetation, etc, until we crossed some defunct train tracks, and saw the opening that put us square on a totally uninhabited stretch of beach/ocean... After being at a walking/slow gallop pace for the previous few hours, we were 'instructed' to really let the horses out and take them for a run on the beach - I mean, seriuosly? This was only my second time on a horse, and I'm now galloping on the beach, along the Pacific Ocean, after coming out of the hectares of sand dunes that we had just traversed... Amazing!
The return from the ocean was pretty special, as we popped back in to the vegetated area, and noticed some smoke coming from a iittle 'oasis' of trees - lunch! The setting was pretty sweet, in a canopied, albeit loosely, spot, with the hired hands getting the asado all squared away, setting up the 'salad bar' and uncorking the bottles of wine that awaited... Over the fire pit was a roasting baby-goat (chivito), a few chorizos, and some baby-beef - Lau, following the feast, declared that she'd only be eating 'babies' and I couldn't have agreed with her more! We opened up a premade pisco sour bottle and started putting that down, on top of the wine and feasted for about an hour and a half before mounting up for the long haul back to 'base camp' - this time, we were a bit more tipsy, had all gotten to know eachother, and were in no rush to see what was ahead. What was cool about the trip back was seeing a different topography - the amount of land on this property was incredible and seemed to go for ever... The last '100' meters of la vuelta took us thru a pasture with cows and other horses, some water (at least belly-deep for the horses, and it wasn't warm water by any stretch of the imagination), and finally the ropes course, again.. The day couldn't have been cooler, and the experience was certainly unreplicable (we thought about doing it again, and decided against it, for fear it would not be nearly as impressionable as the first time).
The other day we had in Viña was spent hanging out, as the weather wasn't exactly 'gorgeous'... Carey and I made a quick run to Valparaiso (a UNICEF World Heritage Site (or something official like that), and home to many of the most influential Chileans, including the poet/author Pablo Neruda, and some dude named Pinochet... It used to be a very influential port town, but has fallen in to some disarray over the years, and now feels a bit run down. Because it sits along the ocean, and is effectively built in to the mountains, the town has a very interesting transportation system, which highlights the 'elevators' that carry people up the side of the mountains - think, funiculars peppered about. As it was approaching sun down, and feeling less safe, Carey and I took a quick trip up an elevator - the thing was seriously 1000 years old - took a few snapshots overlooking the port/city, and fired back to Viña for our last dinner at the casino... We went all out, and had the pleasure of meeting the foreign exchange student who stayed with Lau's parents in Dallas (she's from Valpo) and her boyfriend for dinner. Unfortunately it had been a long trip, and Lau wasn't feeling great, so she didn't enjoy the grandiose-ness of how delicious the dinner was - mmm! After dinner, Melanie and I wanted to a little gambling, Chilean style, so we stuck around and had a blast - drinking, playing blackjack, and of course, winning! We got ourselves back to the hotel, happy and go lucky, only to receive from gut-wrenching news... Melanie's grandmother, who had been relatively ill for some time, has passed away, so we spent the next several hours figuring out the logistics of a return flight to NYC to attend the funeral (36 hours later). It was a tough call to have received, but Melanie was a trooper and we got all of her things together for an early departure to Santiago, around the time we'd be getting on a bus for the long haul back to BA - across the continent in a day...
The next morning couldn't have been prettier - the sun was out, there was not a cloud in the sky, and we had front row seats for a great ride back to Mendoza, where we'd hit the bus station, hop a cab to the Park Hyatt for a bathroom run, and bounce back to the bus station to take the overnite trip back to Baires... Unfortunately, we were short one person for the weekend in BA...
After a few days of wine-binging, gastro-gorging, and horseback-riding (se dice 'para hacer cabalgatas), Chile was on the agenda for a few days, with the idea of checking out Santiago and a town or two along the Pacific - either Viña del Mar and/or Valparaíso. However, after the hostel-ing experience in Mendoza, which was fantastic, the girls weren't all that interested in 'winging' it any longer, despite having received a few pointers with respect to where we should head when we got to Santiago. We were relatively unprepared with respect to the adventure that was forthcoming, as noone had really done any research (aside from a call/email to a few friends) on what to do, where to go, and how to get there, etc... We assumed (maybe, I assumed more than the girls) it'd be relatively easy, not too busy, and a good time. We weren't wrong, but each showed varying levels of ease, congestion, and fun-ness. So, pulling in to the bus station in Santiago after a 6-ish hour, National Geographic-inspired cruise through the Andes mountains - did I mention that it is gorgeous?! - we had the names/locations of a few hostels in different parts of town. As luck would have had it, the lady seated across the aisle from me had a Lonely Planet book with Chilean stuff, so we were able to score a few pictures of the maps, some recommendations, and a few phone numbers of places of interest. Unfortunately, none of them really mattered, as we couldn't figure out how to dial the numbers from either a US-based mobile, nor the Argentine mobiles... In addition to the in ability to dial, the girls were growing more frustrated (with me, for not having had 'planned' anything in particular), and I of them (for not being more open minded to not spending a ton of money on accommodations, and being 'girls'), so by a 3-1 vote, we decided to head to the Grand Hyatt Santiago, in Las Condes, one of, if not, the most expensive hotels in the nicest part of town... To provide some background on this decision, there was an outside chance of us receiving some special treatment from the GM, as he was a colleague of a colleague back in the day - unfortunately, he had resigned just 4 days earlier and was no longer at the hotel (we were aware of his leaving the post of GM, but not of the specific timing), so we got the special treatment alright, RACK RATE! So, after a bit of haggling and heavy breathing, we opted to take it easy for the nite, so my sister and I went with the flow and treated ourselves to a great Thai dinner in one of the 3 fine-dining restaurants within the hotel - seriously, the place is fantastic!
Other than that, Santiago wasn't really on our list of cities to explore, so we basically went to two places the following day - a tourist trap 'hill' that has been created as the all-in-one shopping destination for all things Chilean. It was certainly interesting, and pretty relaxing, but kind of far from the rest of town, which precluded us from walking the downtown area, as we needed to get to the funicular to ride to the top of Cerro San Cristóbal - the highest point in town, with a giant 'Rio-esque' statue of the Virgin Mary (we think)... After running around Santiago, which seems a lot smaller on a map, we bounced back to our luxury digs and packed the bags to head to Viña del Mar. In the 'argumentative' phase of this 'traveling with women vacation' (it was bound to happen at some point) the nite before, I opted to put my misery, and the girls' disinterest in hosteling, to bed, and made arrangements to stay at Starwood properties while speniding the week in Chile... This ended up being the saving grace of the trip, as we could all relax (albeit, spending a few quid more), and just enjoy the time together. So, with that, backpacks afull, we headed to the bus station to head to the Pacific.
Arriving in Viña was a bit interesting, as we weren't exactly sure what the process would have been because we weren't exactly sure where we were... We had been under the impression that the trip would be about 2 hours, so after about 90 minutes, we (e.g. "I") asked the bus driver how close we were to the Sheraton, and he immediately pulled over and suggested it was about 8 blocks behind where we were - apparently, we had made it, early... So, we hopped off, and yours truly, in a rush, left the bottle of vineyard produced olive oil from Achaval Ferrer, doh! We made our wandering way to the hotel, which was located 'in' the water, over the Pacific Ocean - it appeared, to my untrained eye, to be a relatively new-build property, and everything about it was pretty spot on. I'll spare you all the 'hotel branding abroad' conversation, but realize that a Sheraton down in these parts is a MUCh nicer hotel than we are accustomed to seeing in the US... When we got in, we got all situated, and wanted to go get some food, so the concierge arranged for a car service to take us to a seafood joint - we had all been crazing the 'frutas del mar' and I was particularly keen on finding some good, Chilean pisco to accompany a delectable creature from the ocean. At the place, Carey even managed to hold a pair of VERY old lobsters - apparently, the length of the tail is directly related to the age (naturally, but there was some metric that I cannot recall that made it easy), and these puppies were pushing 15 years old... At least, this was all according to the server, so, who knows!
The highlight of the Víña experience, and maybe that of Chile, was spent the next day, back on horses... We had had such a great time in Mendoza, that we wanted to do it all again, and the second go around on horses was INCREDIBLE!! We totally lucked out... Our hired driver for the weekend, a great guy, took us out of town, about 35 minutes north to what looked more like an outdoor adventure due ranch kind of place, and from the street, the property extended several miles to the ocean - truly breathtaking topography. At the front of the property was the main house, which included a huge sitting/eating/socializing room off of the kitchen, a nice little courtyward in the center, and what appeared to be a handful of bedrooms (maybe a B&B?), the stables, and the dog shed (they had a couple of wolves there, yo lo juro). As the property extended toward the ocean, there was what looked like an obstacle-type/ropes-esque course, a few ponds, and just a generally beautiful landscape (trees, water, hiking/riding paths, etc), which included mountainous sand dunes... This was clearly the highlight, as we didn't really know what was in store for the day - how long it would last, where we'd go, what type of riding we'd be doing, etc... So, after a few minutes of hanging out with the nice old lady who was cleaning some giant tarp with a hose, and playing with the dogs, a big, burly, caballero sauntered from the depths (this guy couldn't have been more of a caballero - worn leather gorro, beat up boots, with the spikey thing, long flowing pony-tail under the hat, a thick, flannel-like button down shirt, and some chapped up pants - and it was awesome... Melanie really liked him...
What came next, over the course of the day, was one of the coolest days I have ever had... We waltzed up to stables to get all horsed-up, and were greeted by a pack of dogs, including a few puppies (wow were they cute), some toothless wonders of hired stable-hands, and the horses, which ranged in size, color, coat, etc... We all got fitted to the corersponding horses that suited our sizes, and we were granted access to the array of gorros available in the 'office'... Then, once all situated, we were off, walking toward the 'ropes' course and toward the dunes... The next few hours, we climbed/descended in the dunes, making our way through the gorgeous landscape that we were lucky enough to be a part of, as we made our way toward the ocean. As we approached, the duines turned to a more fertile, less 'hilly' topography, with more plants, trees, vegetation, etc, until we crossed some defunct train tracks, and saw the opening that put us square on a totally uninhabited stretch of beach/ocean... After being at a walking/slow gallop pace for the previous few hours, we were 'instructed' to really let the horses out and take them for a run on the beach - I mean, seriuosly? This was only my second time on a horse, and I'm now galloping on the beach, along the Pacific Ocean, after coming out of the hectares of sand dunes that we had just traversed... Amazing!
The return from the ocean was pretty special, as we popped back in to the vegetated area, and noticed some smoke coming from a iittle 'oasis' of trees - lunch! The setting was pretty sweet, in a canopied, albeit loosely, spot, with the hired hands getting the asado all squared away, setting up the 'salad bar' and uncorking the bottles of wine that awaited... Over the fire pit was a roasting baby-goat (chivito), a few chorizos, and some baby-beef - Lau, following the feast, declared that she'd only be eating 'babies' and I couldn't have agreed with her more! We opened up a premade pisco sour bottle and started putting that down, on top of the wine and feasted for about an hour and a half before mounting up for the long haul back to 'base camp' - this time, we were a bit more tipsy, had all gotten to know eachother, and were in no rush to see what was ahead. What was cool about the trip back was seeing a different topography - the amount of land on this property was incredible and seemed to go for ever... The last '100' meters of la vuelta took us thru a pasture with cows and other horses, some water (at least belly-deep for the horses, and it wasn't warm water by any stretch of the imagination), and finally the ropes course, again.. The day couldn't have been cooler, and the experience was certainly unreplicable (we thought about doing it again, and decided against it, for fear it would not be nearly as impressionable as the first time).
The other day we had in Viña was spent hanging out, as the weather wasn't exactly 'gorgeous'... Carey and I made a quick run to Valparaiso (a UNICEF World Heritage Site (or something official like that), and home to many of the most influential Chileans, including the poet/author Pablo Neruda, and some dude named Pinochet... It used to be a very influential port town, but has fallen in to some disarray over the years, and now feels a bit run down. Because it sits along the ocean, and is effectively built in to the mountains, the town has a very interesting transportation system, which highlights the 'elevators' that carry people up the side of the mountains - think, funiculars peppered about. As it was approaching sun down, and feeling less safe, Carey and I took a quick trip up an elevator - the thing was seriously 1000 years old - took a few snapshots overlooking the port/city, and fired back to Viña for our last dinner at the casino... We went all out, and had the pleasure of meeting the foreign exchange student who stayed with Lau's parents in Dallas (she's from Valpo) and her boyfriend for dinner. Unfortunately it had been a long trip, and Lau wasn't feeling great, so she didn't enjoy the grandiose-ness of how delicious the dinner was - mmm! After dinner, Melanie and I wanted to a little gambling, Chilean style, so we stuck around and had a blast - drinking, playing blackjack, and of course, winning! We got ourselves back to the hotel, happy and go lucky, only to receive from gut-wrenching news... Melanie's grandmother, who had been relatively ill for some time, has passed away, so we spent the next several hours figuring out the logistics of a return flight to NYC to attend the funeral (36 hours later). It was a tough call to have received, but Melanie was a trooper and we got all of her things together for an early departure to Santiago, around the time we'd be getting on a bus for the long haul back to BA - across the continent in a day...
The next morning couldn't have been prettier - the sun was out, there was not a cloud in the sky, and we had front row seats for a great ride back to Mendoza, where we'd hit the bus station, hop a cab to the Park Hyatt for a bathroom run, and bounce back to the bus station to take the overnite trip back to Baires... Unfortunately, we were short one person for the weekend in BA...
Los viñedos...
What more is there to say about drifting out of reality and in to the tranquility that always presents itself in the form of a vineyard, a grape, a glass, or a bottle - sometimes, all together!
I've had the privilege of spending some time in the Napa and Sonoma wine regions in California, thanks to my friend's girlfriend being unable to take the trip at the last minute, and had made a short visit to Mendoza, Argentina soon thereafter, and enjoyed my time in each place, thoroughly, and for different reasons. However, the recent trip I was lucky enough to make was with Carey, Melanie, and Lau, and we did it up! If you back away the accommodations - I figured, let's spend money on things that matter, like the food and the wine, and not the bed, so we stayed in a hostel (it turned out to be great, but a little 'below' the expectations of the ladies) - there wouldn't be much to change from having an explosively good time in Mendoza, and given the particularities of all of us, that is saying a lot...
For starters, I was in no mood to drop big bucks on a 90-minute flight, and I thought it would be good for both Carey and Melanie to experience the bus system of Argentina, as it really is something that takes a little adjusting to, but it totally normal for people who are here. A bit of a background on this - in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the government sold of its national interests in many industries, including the railway system, which included operable trains (ala Amtrak) running from Buenos Aires to the rest of the country. The network may not have been al-encompassing, but it existed... After the national sell-off, the railway system (beyond the standard freight and commuter systems) was effectively closed, so bus companies (super-luxe classes through school bus style) began sprouting up to fill the void. This is now the primary means of inter-nodal mass transportation in Argentina (and I would imagine for the majority of South America), so I figured it would be fun to experience together/be a witness to the fact that both Carey and Melanie spent evenings on a bus (Lau has already done this, so she's accustomed to it).
So, we left Baires on a Wednesday evening, the same day that Carey arrived (she had a whirlwind of a first 2 weeks down here!), traveling on AndesMar (you know, like, from the Andes to the Ocean, like, Argentina) for the 13 hour, overnight trip almost directly west to Mendoza. The fun fact about this trip is that there's a street in Baires that travels all the way from the Casa Rosada, to the Chilean border, and has been documented as the longest, single road in the world - this could also just be the Argentine chest-pumping and self-fulfilling story-telling... The trip was relatively uneventful, as we a bevy of meds onhand to help potential sleeping issues, but was highlighted by an incredible game of bingo, something AndesMar does prior to serving the dog-meat slop they pretend is a dinner (I can say this, I actually ate it, unlike the people I was traveling with, who just laughed and made silly faces while I ate my 'dinner')... Needless to say, I won the bingo match on a bus full of people, but not before Melanie called out Bingo after the 6th number called, thinking it was a 'normal' game of bingo. Really?! We're in Argentina, nothing's normal... Our bingo consists of getting a 4x4 board of numbers totally filled by the numbers that are called, so you need 16 (maybe less if you have a wild-card and/or duplicates) numbers before you can win - silly Melanie! I won a nice thermos, which was immediately caribinered to the backpack...
Little did we know that the weekend we were to have in Mendoza was over Labor Day (how naive), so some of the vineyards would not be open in observance of the holiday. Labor Day here is the same as in the States, but the concept of having a day off to celebrate the work has a different meaning in the US, where people are only ever thinking about work, and here, where they think about everything but work. Alas, I digress... In planning the wine-touring, we opted to have an 'adventure' day in between, which took care of scheduling the tours with the places we wanted to visit and giving us a chance to take a break from the consumption. Within about 2 minutes of getting in to town, we were already running behind schedule - we had a big day of wine touring and giddiness that needed to start, immediately...
The first vineyard, Azul, located in the Uco Valley, was a boutique winery with an annual production of about 70,000 bottles. This could have been our favorite vineyard, so having at the beginning was both a blessing and disappointment. We got a nice tour of the actual production, as the tasting was done in the same rooms as the stainless fermentation barrels. Prior to moving down here, I has part of a wine club that sent me Argentine wines from Mendoza, and I had had the chance to taste some Azul in the past, so visiting the vineyard was a nice perk. We bounced around, jungle juice (90% fermented wine from the barrel) in hand, from bodega to bodega, until we got to O'Fournier for our lunch (it was close to 3p). The meal we had was delectable, and prepared by a chef who the girls later claimed not to trust - she's the wife of the vineyard owner, of Spanish descent, and stands about 5 feet, 100 lbs... tiny! This is why the girls did not trust her, but, her food spoke for itself. Rich, soft, and perfectly paired with the 'house' wines - here, it has a different connotation. After the travel, the wine, and at this point, the food, we all needed a little rest before something that evening. We ended up heading to a little spot for dinner, where we got the 'in' table on the street, right in front. Needless to say, the four of us barely spoke a word to eachother, as all our heads were on swivels (as is customary when eating on the street in front of a popular restaurant) the entire nite. What we did chuckle about was the disaster of a service experience we had, as orders were confused, forgotten, or just gotten plain wrong. Welcome to Argentina! However, to defend the Argentine's, the orders had replacement items, cooking suggestions, and 'created' items, so it's not entirely their fault...
The next morning, we woke up good and early for 'adventure' day, which included horseback riding (cabalgatas) - a first for me - and hiking/repelling. Resting in the foothills of the Andes, the adventure company we went through had a 'base camp' sitting on a gorgeous lake abutting the mountains, from which all tours departed. The horseback riding was amazing, as we were just walking through the mountains, with only the picturesque landscape surrounding us. A lot of my motivation to climb aboard a horse was a function of Melanie's visit, as she has always wanted for me to get in to horses (she's a professional rider, seriously), so her visit was the perfect confluence of reasons to saddle up. I'm now hooked!
After lunch, a criollo meal at 'base camp,' we went for a 3 hour hike up the hills/mountains, that was bisected by a little waterfall/rock repelling - sweet! During the hike, we made friends with our 24 y/o guide, a native of Mendoza, and got to see some 'wild' horses running through the foothills - wait, what?! Apparently, the horses belonged to the same group we had 'hired' to take us riding, but to see horses, in a natural environment like that is still pretty cool, and not something you necessarily expect when setting off on a hike. By the end of the day, we were pooped, but we had a HUGE dinner ahead of us - maybe the biggest/fanciest one of the entire trip.
1884 Francis Mallmann is a restaurant located within an old building that was formerly the bodega of Escorihuela Gascón, a prominent label in Mendoza. The restaurant, by all accounts, is amazing. It was strongly suggested, and referred to as the nicest in Mendoza, so naturally, we had to do it - when we walked in, we were, hands down, the youngest people in there - by at least 10 years. Now that we're pushing 30, 'old' people don't seem that old anymore, despite how young I may still feel. Aside from the snobbish response I received from the sommelier (his name is Victor) when asking about a flight of champagne, service was impeccable and the food, delicious. We made the affair a bit more 'shared' with a specific rotation of plates that each of us ordered, being sure not to duplicate - this gave us the chance to sample 8 different 'courses' but was not supremely successful, as the last rotation would always get cold food... Full and drunk, we headed back to the hostel to turn in for the nite and prepare for our second day of wine tasting - Lujan de Cuyo was next...
This was a day of big hitters - Achaval Ferrer, Vistalba, Carmelo Patti, and Altavista - with lunch at La Bourgogne, the restaurant at Vistalba... Achaval Ferrer is a 'modern' vineyard that has assumed some 'forward' wine-making techniques, all of which are implemented to produce terrific wines. Lunch was absolutely delicious, on the grounds of what felt like a monastery, however, the building was clearly not that old, and afterward, I think we were all ready to take a breather, but I pushed us on to hit up at least 2 more vineyards, neither of which were really all that memorable (a few stories, some pictures, yada yada). The girls were counting the minutes until their massages at the Spa at the Park Hyatt, and I was up for getting some more wine at Vines of Mendoza with a colleague who works there/trying to work a business angle. Dinner was relatively uneventful, as we chowed on sushi at the bar at the Park Hyatt, down the hall from the spa, and then headed back to the hostel, where we'd get a nice nite's sleep before hopping on the 7 hour train, thru the Andes, en route to Santiago de Chile...
I've had the privilege of spending some time in the Napa and Sonoma wine regions in California, thanks to my friend's girlfriend being unable to take the trip at the last minute, and had made a short visit to Mendoza, Argentina soon thereafter, and enjoyed my time in each place, thoroughly, and for different reasons. However, the recent trip I was lucky enough to make was with Carey, Melanie, and Lau, and we did it up! If you back away the accommodations - I figured, let's spend money on things that matter, like the food and the wine, and not the bed, so we stayed in a hostel (it turned out to be great, but a little 'below' the expectations of the ladies) - there wouldn't be much to change from having an explosively good time in Mendoza, and given the particularities of all of us, that is saying a lot...
For starters, I was in no mood to drop big bucks on a 90-minute flight, and I thought it would be good for both Carey and Melanie to experience the bus system of Argentina, as it really is something that takes a little adjusting to, but it totally normal for people who are here. A bit of a background on this - in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the government sold of its national interests in many industries, including the railway system, which included operable trains (ala Amtrak) running from Buenos Aires to the rest of the country. The network may not have been al-encompassing, but it existed... After the national sell-off, the railway system (beyond the standard freight and commuter systems) was effectively closed, so bus companies (super-luxe classes through school bus style) began sprouting up to fill the void. This is now the primary means of inter-nodal mass transportation in Argentina (and I would imagine for the majority of South America), so I figured it would be fun to experience together/be a witness to the fact that both Carey and Melanie spent evenings on a bus (Lau has already done this, so she's accustomed to it).
So, we left Baires on a Wednesday evening, the same day that Carey arrived (she had a whirlwind of a first 2 weeks down here!), traveling on AndesMar (you know, like, from the Andes to the Ocean, like, Argentina) for the 13 hour, overnight trip almost directly west to Mendoza. The fun fact about this trip is that there's a street in Baires that travels all the way from the Casa Rosada, to the Chilean border, and has been documented as the longest, single road in the world - this could also just be the Argentine chest-pumping and self-fulfilling story-telling... The trip was relatively uneventful, as we a bevy of meds onhand to help potential sleeping issues, but was highlighted by an incredible game of bingo, something AndesMar does prior to serving the dog-meat slop they pretend is a dinner (I can say this, I actually ate it, unlike the people I was traveling with, who just laughed and made silly faces while I ate my 'dinner')... Needless to say, I won the bingo match on a bus full of people, but not before Melanie called out Bingo after the 6th number called, thinking it was a 'normal' game of bingo. Really?! We're in Argentina, nothing's normal... Our bingo consists of getting a 4x4 board of numbers totally filled by the numbers that are called, so you need 16 (maybe less if you have a wild-card and/or duplicates) numbers before you can win - silly Melanie! I won a nice thermos, which was immediately caribinered to the backpack...
Little did we know that the weekend we were to have in Mendoza was over Labor Day (how naive), so some of the vineyards would not be open in observance of the holiday. Labor Day here is the same as in the States, but the concept of having a day off to celebrate the work has a different meaning in the US, where people are only ever thinking about work, and here, where they think about everything but work. Alas, I digress... In planning the wine-touring, we opted to have an 'adventure' day in between, which took care of scheduling the tours with the places we wanted to visit and giving us a chance to take a break from the consumption. Within about 2 minutes of getting in to town, we were already running behind schedule - we had a big day of wine touring and giddiness that needed to start, immediately...
The first vineyard, Azul, located in the Uco Valley, was a boutique winery with an annual production of about 70,000 bottles. This could have been our favorite vineyard, so having at the beginning was both a blessing and disappointment. We got a nice tour of the actual production, as the tasting was done in the same rooms as the stainless fermentation barrels. Prior to moving down here, I has part of a wine club that sent me Argentine wines from Mendoza, and I had had the chance to taste some Azul in the past, so visiting the vineyard was a nice perk. We bounced around, jungle juice (90% fermented wine from the barrel) in hand, from bodega to bodega, until we got to O'Fournier for our lunch (it was close to 3p). The meal we had was delectable, and prepared by a chef who the girls later claimed not to trust - she's the wife of the vineyard owner, of Spanish descent, and stands about 5 feet, 100 lbs... tiny! This is why the girls did not trust her, but, her food spoke for itself. Rich, soft, and perfectly paired with the 'house' wines - here, it has a different connotation. After the travel, the wine, and at this point, the food, we all needed a little rest before something that evening. We ended up heading to a little spot for dinner, where we got the 'in' table on the street, right in front. Needless to say, the four of us barely spoke a word to eachother, as all our heads were on swivels (as is customary when eating on the street in front of a popular restaurant) the entire nite. What we did chuckle about was the disaster of a service experience we had, as orders were confused, forgotten, or just gotten plain wrong. Welcome to Argentina! However, to defend the Argentine's, the orders had replacement items, cooking suggestions, and 'created' items, so it's not entirely their fault...
The next morning, we woke up good and early for 'adventure' day, which included horseback riding (cabalgatas) - a first for me - and hiking/repelling. Resting in the foothills of the Andes, the adventure company we went through had a 'base camp' sitting on a gorgeous lake abutting the mountains, from which all tours departed. The horseback riding was amazing, as we were just walking through the mountains, with only the picturesque landscape surrounding us. A lot of my motivation to climb aboard a horse was a function of Melanie's visit, as she has always wanted for me to get in to horses (she's a professional rider, seriously), so her visit was the perfect confluence of reasons to saddle up. I'm now hooked!
After lunch, a criollo meal at 'base camp,' we went for a 3 hour hike up the hills/mountains, that was bisected by a little waterfall/rock repelling - sweet! During the hike, we made friends with our 24 y/o guide, a native of Mendoza, and got to see some 'wild' horses running through the foothills - wait, what?! Apparently, the horses belonged to the same group we had 'hired' to take us riding, but to see horses, in a natural environment like that is still pretty cool, and not something you necessarily expect when setting off on a hike. By the end of the day, we were pooped, but we had a HUGE dinner ahead of us - maybe the biggest/fanciest one of the entire trip.
1884 Francis Mallmann is a restaurant located within an old building that was formerly the bodega of Escorihuela Gascón, a prominent label in Mendoza. The restaurant, by all accounts, is amazing. It was strongly suggested, and referred to as the nicest in Mendoza, so naturally, we had to do it - when we walked in, we were, hands down, the youngest people in there - by at least 10 years. Now that we're pushing 30, 'old' people don't seem that old anymore, despite how young I may still feel. Aside from the snobbish response I received from the sommelier (his name is Victor) when asking about a flight of champagne, service was impeccable and the food, delicious. We made the affair a bit more 'shared' with a specific rotation of plates that each of us ordered, being sure not to duplicate - this gave us the chance to sample 8 different 'courses' but was not supremely successful, as the last rotation would always get cold food... Full and drunk, we headed back to the hostel to turn in for the nite and prepare for our second day of wine tasting - Lujan de Cuyo was next...
This was a day of big hitters - Achaval Ferrer, Vistalba, Carmelo Patti, and Altavista - with lunch at La Bourgogne, the restaurant at Vistalba... Achaval Ferrer is a 'modern' vineyard that has assumed some 'forward' wine-making techniques, all of which are implemented to produce terrific wines. Lunch was absolutely delicious, on the grounds of what felt like a monastery, however, the building was clearly not that old, and afterward, I think we were all ready to take a breather, but I pushed us on to hit up at least 2 more vineyards, neither of which were really all that memorable (a few stories, some pictures, yada yada). The girls were counting the minutes until their massages at the Spa at the Park Hyatt, and I was up for getting some more wine at Vines of Mendoza with a colleague who works there/trying to work a business angle. Dinner was relatively uneventful, as we chowed on sushi at the bar at the Park Hyatt, down the hall from the spa, and then headed back to the hostel, where we'd get a nice nite's sleep before hopping on the 7 hour train, thru the Andes, en route to Santiago de Chile...
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
"Honey..."
It's difficult to describe her, but once you meet her, you cannot possibly explain her... Melanie Berliner, my dear friend and pseudo-relative decided to make her way down to Argentina for a visit after parting ways with her previous restaurant employer in Boston... I guess people follow the directive of taking some 'down time' while contemplating the future - great call, who'd a thunk I'd have suggested something so, so, so, good, ha!
I was a bit skeptical when she told me that she'd be heading down, and even more surprised when she told me she'd be down here within 2 weeks, but when I received the e-ticket confirmation, I knew she wasn't messing around - and for almost three weeks, at that! For those of you who don't know Melanie, or have not even heard one story, she's not exactly the easiest to describe (per above comment), but you can use the following words: fabulousness, eccentric, classical, loving, boisterous, smart-ass, and grandiose - she's great, really, trust me...
It had been about 6 months since I had seen her, and when her big, squawky self waltzed in to my apartment, I knew I was in for a few weeks of fun, laughing, surprise, and excitement... Buenos Aires, Mendoza, Santiago de Chile, and Viña del Mar, meet Melanie... Suerte!
I was a bit skeptical when she told me that she'd be heading down, and even more surprised when she told me she'd be down here within 2 weeks, but when I received the e-ticket confirmation, I knew she wasn't messing around - and for almost three weeks, at that! For those of you who don't know Melanie, or have not even heard one story, she's not exactly the easiest to describe (per above comment), but you can use the following words: fabulousness, eccentric, classical, loving, boisterous, smart-ass, and grandiose - she's great, really, trust me...
It had been about 6 months since I had seen her, and when her big, squawky self waltzed in to my apartment, I knew I was in for a few weeks of fun, laughing, surprise, and excitement... Buenos Aires, Mendoza, Santiago de Chile, and Viña del Mar, meet Melanie... Suerte!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Wilshire Hospitality
It is finally happening... In the week+ since I've been home, I've been working pretty hard on officializing a 'dream' I've had for quite some time - venturing out on my own in to the gray world of consulting... I've been working on a few projects with a great 'client/partner' in the USA (FCA), and that opportunity has certainly been providing me the opportunity to spread my wings and plant some roots, and I've decided to step it up a notch and go global. After registering the domain url after college, the name of the group has never been a question, and within the next 6 weeks (I hope), m consultancy practice will be up and live for all to see. As many of you know, I'm not one to take myself too seriously, but it seems that my reputation precedes me and there are people who actually think I have more than resin in between my ears (not including the gorgeous punim, that goes without saying), so it is for the great population that I believe now is the time to properly represent the skills and abilities I like to think I have when it comes to the profession I have chosen for myself (this point is up for argument as well, but I do enjoy what I do, especially when it involves a good challenge and a creative spirit).
So, if you have a chance, check out www.wilshirehospitality.com in the coming weeks/months and let me know your thoughts. I will have a 'landing page' set up once I get the basic hosting information all set up while I complete the rest of the site, but I promise, it'll be done with the same thought, care, and attention to detail I anticipate putting in to everything I do (as you all know).
Viva la menta!
So, if you have a chance, check out www.wilshirehospitality.com in the coming weeks/months and let me know your thoughts. I will have a 'landing page' set up once I get the basic hosting information all set up while I complete the rest of the site, but I promise, it'll be done with the same thought, care, and attention to detail I anticipate putting in to everything I do (as you all know).
Viva la menta!
Monday, April 20, 2009
20/4...
Writing this magical date in the format outside of the USA just seems a little funny... Not only does it not 'read' the same way, it kinda loses its meaning, depending on who you're talking to... Aside from the more obvious reference, the one less discussed, and in all likelihood only referring to my previous life (wow, it really does seem like forever ago), brought about a different set of emotions (some of which need not be retraced). It marked the official, "it's been a year since the world changed" moment for me - I'm not going to get in to specifics, but it's been a long 'year' in the works, and the changes that I've gone through and decisions I've made for myself could never have been made if that fateful day, one year ago, had not transpired. Like kicking a dead horse, it took a while to bounce back and get my head on straight, and one year later, walking the streets of Buenos Aires, having just returned from the best trip of my life, my head held high, breathing in the late summer air (minus the pollution, notice I did not use 'clean'), thinking back on what was, what was close to having happened, and what I now had in store for the future, was pretty amazing. For all of you who have been around for me, especially over the last year, I thank you, for it was that support that helped me get to a point to be able to make a decision as 'drastic' and robust as the one I made, and to be here, where I am now, feels pretty good - and it is this place, one year ago, that I did not think I'd ever get to. Muchas gracias, se agradezco! And now, it's time for a few solars... B-)
Sunday, April 19, 2009
La Vuelta a Baires...
What a whirlwind... Where can I even go from here? What is going to match that trip?
The answer is easy - another vacation!!
So it now seems as if my sister and one of my best friends (she's like a cousin/sister) will be rolling in to town at the end of the month, for a lengthy visit that will likely include extensive travel, local Spanish knowhow, a large drinking hat, and an iron stomach that will protect me from the damage at the restaurants in whatever town awaits us...
After they come/go, my parents will be here, followed by my two clown friends from college... This just never ends - and I thought I'd be coming down here to learn Castellano...
Let the good times roll! There's a French saying for this, and I believe they say it somewhere in Louisiana... I neither speak French (not yet...), nor have visited this particular area of Louisiana when said phrase is spoken at great length - can someone fill me in? Thanks for the reminder...
Where was I... Right, time to prepare my body for the damage that will be the month of May... Oy vey...
The answer is easy - another vacation!!
So it now seems as if my sister and one of my best friends (she's like a cousin/sister) will be rolling in to town at the end of the month, for a lengthy visit that will likely include extensive travel, local Spanish knowhow, a large drinking hat, and an iron stomach that will protect me from the damage at the restaurants in whatever town awaits us...
After they come/go, my parents will be here, followed by my two clown friends from college... This just never ends - and I thought I'd be coming down here to learn Castellano...
Let the good times roll! There's a French saying for this, and I believe they say it somewhere in Louisiana... I neither speak French (not yet...), nor have visited this particular area of Louisiana when said phrase is spoken at great length - can someone fill me in? Thanks for the reminder...
Where was I... Right, time to prepare my body for the damage that will be the month of May... Oy vey...
Viajando Solo...
If you haven't gotten the drift yet, my first 'solo' travel experience could not have been more memorable... And, if you have never traveled alone, have had a fear of traveling by yourself, or have always wanted to 'share' your travel experience with someone else, I can only say this: quit making excuses, and just do it! Maybe I've stolen a page from Phil Knight, but it's totally the truth... I too used to be in that boat - I want to share the experience, I can't do it by myself, who am I going to spend time with, how am I going to meet people, etc... You can never understand the power of the human will until you put yourself in a position that absolutely requires yo to change, do, think, and be, and if you don't, you'll always be wondering - can I, could I, do I think this is possible, etc...
I may be riding my own high horse right now, but having been a doubter/pessimist in the past, this whole experience really did have a big impact, and I suggest everyone get out there and have their own walkabout as well...
I may be riding my own high horse right now, but having been a doubter/pessimist in the past, this whole experience really did have a big impact, and I suggest everyone get out there and have their own walkabout as well...
Peru - Lima
After a truly amazing 2 weeks traveling about in Colombia, it was time to head to Lima, for a guided, 3-day tour of the biggest city in Peru. A good friend of mine, from my Hotel Victor days, is a Peruvian native with a ton of family down there, so he was both generous enough to take care of hotel reservations (in Colombia as well) for me in Lima, as well as put me in touch with his neice (they are only about 10 years apart) and her friends to show me around town. Our first miscommunication occurred at the airport, where they were going to be waiting for me, with a sign, and we'd be on our way. However, they were informed I'd be traveling with my Filipino girlfriend (what?!), so they were looking for someone a bit different. It didn't help that there was not a sign, and I apparently forgot my Filipino girlfriend along for the vacation, so it took about 45 minutes to figure it all out (the intercom and customer service desk helped out a great deal).
So, once we sorted everything out, we were on our way for some late-nite anticuchos (I'll spare you the details, but they are 'beef' related, and come from a cow, but it's not steak) and a few pitchers of chica morada, a Peruvian 'kool-aid' of sorts, but way better! It was a nice introduction to what would amount to be a weekend full of eating myself silly and stuffing as much comida criolla down my hatch as possible. After dinner, we popped over to a modern development that sits atop a huge cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean - Larcomar Shopping Center has a ton of shopping, restaurants, bars, clubs, etc, and is located in the Miraflores neighborhood of Lima, which is a bit more upscale and where I would stay if/when I return to Lima for a trip - for a pisco sour and a café to wind the nite down.
My first real day started off on the same foot - as I was to meet the girls in my lobby at noon for a walking tour of the downtown area (plazas, iglesias, edificios, catedrales, etc), but by 1p, I opted to have a go of it solo and explained to the doorman that two girls were to have met me an hour before, and if they arrived, to send them out to try and find me along the 'ruta turista' downtown. So, much to my surprise, after walking about, taking pictures, grabbing a bite to eat, etc, I was standing outside in the Plaza de Armas when I noticed the girls walking toward me - it was pretty funny that after about 2 hours, they were finally able to find me (that said, I was wearing my gorro from Colombia, and a bright green polo shirt, so I probably stood out a little bit). They apologized profusely, which really wasn't that big of a deal, as I had set out to see things anyway, and made a few suggestions for other places in the area to see, which were great. We headed over to a huge church with catacombs beneath for a tour, and then popped out to a town called Callao (an armament/fort built in the same style as the fort/ciudad vieja de Cartagena) to see the ocean and take in some authentic cebiche (yes, they use a 'b' in place of the 'v' in Peru). We took a precarious, to say the least, bus ride out to Callao, which passed right through one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city, but it was great, I was with two local girls, dressed like a Colombian drug-trafficker, so I don't think there would have been any issues. Once we finally got home, we opted to take it relatively easy the rest of the afternoon and meet back up for a nite on the town, specifically, a salsa-dancing disco... Having just learned about Colombian salsa, I figured I could hang, but when Ana Christina (my friend's niece) told me that it was totally different, I figured a lot of booze could help me learn the moves - I couldn't have been more wrong... Well, at least I tried, but the style of salsa that is danced in Peru (or, Lima, at least) is a lot more akin to swing dancing, minus the throwing/tossing, but with just as much animation, movement and spinning, which differed a great deal from the style I learned in Colombia... Oh well, it was an experience, and I tried, but eventhough I may have quick feet on a soccer field (una cancha de fútbol), I cannot hang with Peruvian salsa... It was great to watch, and I put down a fair amount of beer, so when I got home, it was refreshing to hit the Sheraton bed/pillow combination.
The next morning, I wanted to see the Pacific Ocean (again), and go for a dip along the beaches, but the weather wasn't really cooperating, as the fog was so thick, you could barely see the water from the top of the cliff (at Larcomar). So, instead, I walked along the Circuito de Playa, from Miraflores to Barranco, a smaller, older community to the south. By the time I made it down to the beach, the weather started to clear up a bit, which continued over the rest of the day. So, at some point, I made a dash for the water, dropping my stuff on the beach, which was made up more of rocks than sand (but, good rocks, nice and round) and darted... The beach dropped off pretty rapidly, and all of a sudden, i was waste deep with no turning back, so I made the plunge and got carried out about 50 yards by the undertow... All was good, and I immediately got back to shore to towel off and continue the walk toward Barranco, stopping at random spots for pictures (naturally). It was a nice day that ended with a meal designated as 'comida criolla' (according to the restaurant, which had a name like - "eat here if you're a tourist"), and it was certainly delectable, despite the highlights being the Inca Kola and 'Simpsons' doughnuts I bought from a street vendor before heading back to the hotel to prepare for the evening events - a trip to the Circuito de Magico de Agua, a park with about a dozen water installations (ala Bellagio)... It was nice closure to the entire trip, walking in a park with lighting and water installations, with new friends, and reflecting on the trip that was coming to its end. We all ended up at a little chicken spot near one guy's apartment for dinner, after grabbing a rice pudding-esque dessert that was being sold by some street vendors at the partk (que rico).
When I awoke on my last day of this wild adventure, I wanted to spend a day seeing, documenting, photographing, and walking parts of the town that I would ordinarily shy away from - yup, the less well-off areas... Probably not the safest thing, but after two weeks by myself, my Spanish having made leaps and bounds since I first boarded the flight from Baires, and the confidence I had with all of it, I figured, piss in the wind and take a walk, gorro and all... So, that's exactly what I did. I walked with my head held high, a gait in my step, and the swagger that I really wasn't out of place and knew exactly where I was, what I was doing, and where I was going. It apparently worked, as I had no issues, chit chatted with a few strangers, bought myself a few goodies, and found myself back in my hotel room, packed and ready to head back to BA with the memories (and photos) of a lifetime...
And the next thing I knew, I was walking in to my front door and face-planting in my bed at about 5a... I did it, how awesome was that!
So, once we sorted everything out, we were on our way for some late-nite anticuchos (I'll spare you the details, but they are 'beef' related, and come from a cow, but it's not steak) and a few pitchers of chica morada, a Peruvian 'kool-aid' of sorts, but way better! It was a nice introduction to what would amount to be a weekend full of eating myself silly and stuffing as much comida criolla down my hatch as possible. After dinner, we popped over to a modern development that sits atop a huge cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean - Larcomar Shopping Center has a ton of shopping, restaurants, bars, clubs, etc, and is located in the Miraflores neighborhood of Lima, which is a bit more upscale and where I would stay if/when I return to Lima for a trip - for a pisco sour and a café to wind the nite down.
My first real day started off on the same foot - as I was to meet the girls in my lobby at noon for a walking tour of the downtown area (plazas, iglesias, edificios, catedrales, etc), but by 1p, I opted to have a go of it solo and explained to the doorman that two girls were to have met me an hour before, and if they arrived, to send them out to try and find me along the 'ruta turista' downtown. So, much to my surprise, after walking about, taking pictures, grabbing a bite to eat, etc, I was standing outside in the Plaza de Armas when I noticed the girls walking toward me - it was pretty funny that after about 2 hours, they were finally able to find me (that said, I was wearing my gorro from Colombia, and a bright green polo shirt, so I probably stood out a little bit). They apologized profusely, which really wasn't that big of a deal, as I had set out to see things anyway, and made a few suggestions for other places in the area to see, which were great. We headed over to a huge church with catacombs beneath for a tour, and then popped out to a town called Callao (an armament/fort built in the same style as the fort/ciudad vieja de Cartagena) to see the ocean and take in some authentic cebiche (yes, they use a 'b' in place of the 'v' in Peru). We took a precarious, to say the least, bus ride out to Callao, which passed right through one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city, but it was great, I was with two local girls, dressed like a Colombian drug-trafficker, so I don't think there would have been any issues. Once we finally got home, we opted to take it relatively easy the rest of the afternoon and meet back up for a nite on the town, specifically, a salsa-dancing disco... Having just learned about Colombian salsa, I figured I could hang, but when Ana Christina (my friend's niece) told me that it was totally different, I figured a lot of booze could help me learn the moves - I couldn't have been more wrong... Well, at least I tried, but the style of salsa that is danced in Peru (or, Lima, at least) is a lot more akin to swing dancing, minus the throwing/tossing, but with just as much animation, movement and spinning, which differed a great deal from the style I learned in Colombia... Oh well, it was an experience, and I tried, but eventhough I may have quick feet on a soccer field (una cancha de fútbol), I cannot hang with Peruvian salsa... It was great to watch, and I put down a fair amount of beer, so when I got home, it was refreshing to hit the Sheraton bed/pillow combination.
The next morning, I wanted to see the Pacific Ocean (again), and go for a dip along the beaches, but the weather wasn't really cooperating, as the fog was so thick, you could barely see the water from the top of the cliff (at Larcomar). So, instead, I walked along the Circuito de Playa, from Miraflores to Barranco, a smaller, older community to the south. By the time I made it down to the beach, the weather started to clear up a bit, which continued over the rest of the day. So, at some point, I made a dash for the water, dropping my stuff on the beach, which was made up more of rocks than sand (but, good rocks, nice and round) and darted... The beach dropped off pretty rapidly, and all of a sudden, i was waste deep with no turning back, so I made the plunge and got carried out about 50 yards by the undertow... All was good, and I immediately got back to shore to towel off and continue the walk toward Barranco, stopping at random spots for pictures (naturally). It was a nice day that ended with a meal designated as 'comida criolla' (according to the restaurant, which had a name like - "eat here if you're a tourist"), and it was certainly delectable, despite the highlights being the Inca Kola and 'Simpsons' doughnuts I bought from a street vendor before heading back to the hotel to prepare for the evening events - a trip to the Circuito de Magico de Agua, a park with about a dozen water installations (ala Bellagio)... It was nice closure to the entire trip, walking in a park with lighting and water installations, with new friends, and reflecting on the trip that was coming to its end. We all ended up at a little chicken spot near one guy's apartment for dinner, after grabbing a rice pudding-esque dessert that was being sold by some street vendors at the partk (que rico).
When I awoke on my last day of this wild adventure, I wanted to spend a day seeing, documenting, photographing, and walking parts of the town that I would ordinarily shy away from - yup, the less well-off areas... Probably not the safest thing, but after two weeks by myself, my Spanish having made leaps and bounds since I first boarded the flight from Baires, and the confidence I had with all of it, I figured, piss in the wind and take a walk, gorro and all... So, that's exactly what I did. I walked with my head held high, a gait in my step, and the swagger that I really wasn't out of place and knew exactly where I was, what I was doing, and where I was going. It apparently worked, as I had no issues, chit chatted with a few strangers, bought myself a few goodies, and found myself back in my hotel room, packed and ready to head back to BA with the memories (and photos) of a lifetime...
And the next thing I knew, I was walking in to my front door and face-planting in my bed at about 5a... I did it, how awesome was that!
Colombia - Santander/Bogotá
Once my time in Cartagena was done, after extending the trip a few days to enjoy the relaxing beach weather, and work on that tan, I hopped on another overnite bus toward Santander, the region to the Northeast of Bogotá known for outdoor adventure activities. Specifically, I had been told to check out a city called Bucaramanga, which is also in Santander, but after extending my visit in Cartagena, I opted for the directness of Santander, specifically, the town of San Gil, which is an outpost/weekend destination for Bogotá-ans, and, considering it was the Wednesday before Good Friday, the town was sure to be filled with both people, and things to do. I arrived around mid-day, having secured accommodations with a hostel owned by an Australian guy named Shawn (he got to town 5 years ago, and never left) - luckily, there was an extra bed, so I got paired with a Swedish guy who had spent a few years in Colombia, a good shit. Once I got in, I met a handful of guys, some of whom were living in Bogotá (Americans), and some who were visiting (a brother, and some friends) - we were all heading to paraglide - an activity that my roommate, Laura the Great, had done during a trip in the south of Argentina. So, within about 30 minutes, my stuff was in a room, and I was off to be attached to a pilot (more on this) and a giant parachute, only to be launched off the top of a mountain... Sounds sweet!
We got to the site, where I was the last of our group to be strapped in and launched... My pilot, a 17 year old kid from Bogotá has, apparently, been flying parachutes like this one since he was 12 - what?! So, I certainly didn't object, as I was clearly unfit to to fly myself, but I was damn sure to be in a position to take pictures/video of the experience, which I happily obliged to do. The flight, which only lasted about 12 minutes, was pretty sweet! If only the day had been a little warmer, and with a few less clouds, but alas, I complain (una queja)... The vista over the Colombian countryside was amazing (have I mentioned how pretty the country is yet?!), rolling hills, mountains, farm land, the colors, the sky, wow! When we all got back in to town, the weather had turned a bit, and it was now drizzling, so we dashed to a local favorite of one of the guys living in Bogotá for a dinner. Nothing fancy, a few hot dogs, burgers, and fries (comida criolla - local fare), some licuados (smoothies) and we were set, each for about USD $3.
That nite, I went back to the hostel to document my travels and ended up running in to another guy with whom we shared a common interest, so we endeavored and made our way to the main square, where the party was just getting started to kick in the rebirth of little baby jesus - woo hoo! We met up with a slew of people our age who were going to a boliche later that nite, so, we tagged along, naturally, after putting down a handful of beers and making several toasts with the locals' fire-water (aguardiente). The nite ended when i climbed up to the top bunk at about 6a, having made the decision to sleep in (that meant until about 1030a), clean up, pack, and head to the bus station to head to Bogotá, where I would spend the nite in another Sheraton...
Once I got to Bogotá, it was about 9p, so I didn't have many options for dinner/going out, as it was now the nite before Good Friday, when people would turn out en-masse to pray to LBJ (not LeBron) for all that he has done for their lives. So, I hopped on to ASW to figure out the places to go, and found a seafood restaurant in a part of town called Parque 93 (on 93rd Street, amazing) to indulge, and that I did. I must have looked like a bum, and was certainly the youngest person dining, not to mention the only person dining solo, so I did what anyone in my shoes would do - I ordered escargot, a dozen oysters, a bottle of viognier, and the white tuna tasting menu, followed by a cup of espresso... That left me high and dry, specifically, kinda wasted, having put everything that was placed in front of me in to my body, so I hightailed it through what would have ordinarily been the 'Zona Rosa' of Bogotá, only to see that the entire city appeared to be somewhere else, and went to back to the hotel. I'd only have a few hours the next day to see the capital, so I wanted to get up bright and early...
My day started like any other, rolling over at 9a, jumping in the shower, putting on jeans, sneakers, and a hoody, and heading down to the lobby... This is where the normalcy of the day stopped, as I needed a taxi to get me to where I thought I'd get dropped off and waltz around... Instead, I got a 'private' taxi driver, who very quickly became my 'private tour guide for the 4-ish hours I'd have before having to make it to the airport for my flight to Lima... The tour was incredible - my private driver should have been the Minister of Tourism for the City of Bogotá. In my 4 hours, I saw so much more than I expected when I rolled out of bed, and learned a tremendous amount about the city - he took me to where the equivalent of the Declaration of Independence was signed, and where the forefathers of Colombia ratified their Constitution; the former being in a church, the latter being in a little plaza in the barrio of La Candelaría (the old part of town, with narrow streets, colorful buildings, and, obviously, incredible history).
My first few stops were around the house of Simon Bolivar, the liberator of Gran Colombia, which is at the base of the mountains where two church/monastery combinations were built to stand guard over the city, each north of 2000 meters and looking over Bogotá. The only two ways up/down, to Monserrati (the lower of the two), are by funicular or gondola (called a 'metrocable' but pronounced differently than you just said it in your head as you read). After touring this area, we went to the house itself, and then on to La Candelaría, before heading to the Plaza de Bolivar, the mother of all Plaza de Bolivars in Colombia. Three giant cathedrals stood on one side, with the other three sides of the Plaza surrounded by the Palacio de Justicia (this has been newly rebuilt, as M-19 burned the previous one to the ground in a terrorist attack in 1985), the Capitolio Nacional, and the Edificio Llevanó (City Hall). When I say, there were about 500,000 people out on this day, I am not kidding, as Colombia is one of the most devoutly faithful Roman Catholic countries in the world, and Good Friday of Semana Santa is relatively important to them... The masses were incredible, and even my newfound buddy said he thought the majority of the people out on this day to enter a church in the center of town were a little bit 'off'... Now, coming from a guy who told me he was religious, I found it to be somewhat comical...
At the end of the tour, I was both exhausted, and relieved, as my time in Colombia could not have been more amazing... I am looking forward to my next chance to go back, and with any luck, that time will be sooner than I expect, but, we'll see, as there are a lot of other countries in South America to check off...
We got to the site, where I was the last of our group to be strapped in and launched... My pilot, a 17 year old kid from Bogotá has, apparently, been flying parachutes like this one since he was 12 - what?! So, I certainly didn't object, as I was clearly unfit to to fly myself, but I was damn sure to be in a position to take pictures/video of the experience, which I happily obliged to do. The flight, which only lasted about 12 minutes, was pretty sweet! If only the day had been a little warmer, and with a few less clouds, but alas, I complain (una queja)... The vista over the Colombian countryside was amazing (have I mentioned how pretty the country is yet?!), rolling hills, mountains, farm land, the colors, the sky, wow! When we all got back in to town, the weather had turned a bit, and it was now drizzling, so we dashed to a local favorite of one of the guys living in Bogotá for a dinner. Nothing fancy, a few hot dogs, burgers, and fries (comida criolla - local fare), some licuados (smoothies) and we were set, each for about USD $3.
That nite, I went back to the hostel to document my travels and ended up running in to another guy with whom we shared a common interest, so we endeavored and made our way to the main square, where the party was just getting started to kick in the rebirth of little baby jesus - woo hoo! We met up with a slew of people our age who were going to a boliche later that nite, so, we tagged along, naturally, after putting down a handful of beers and making several toasts with the locals' fire-water (aguardiente). The nite ended when i climbed up to the top bunk at about 6a, having made the decision to sleep in (that meant until about 1030a), clean up, pack, and head to the bus station to head to Bogotá, where I would spend the nite in another Sheraton...
Once I got to Bogotá, it was about 9p, so I didn't have many options for dinner/going out, as it was now the nite before Good Friday, when people would turn out en-masse to pray to LBJ (not LeBron) for all that he has done for their lives. So, I hopped on to ASW to figure out the places to go, and found a seafood restaurant in a part of town called Parque 93 (on 93rd Street, amazing) to indulge, and that I did. I must have looked like a bum, and was certainly the youngest person dining, not to mention the only person dining solo, so I did what anyone in my shoes would do - I ordered escargot, a dozen oysters, a bottle of viognier, and the white tuna tasting menu, followed by a cup of espresso... That left me high and dry, specifically, kinda wasted, having put everything that was placed in front of me in to my body, so I hightailed it through what would have ordinarily been the 'Zona Rosa' of Bogotá, only to see that the entire city appeared to be somewhere else, and went to back to the hotel. I'd only have a few hours the next day to see the capital, so I wanted to get up bright and early...
My day started like any other, rolling over at 9a, jumping in the shower, putting on jeans, sneakers, and a hoody, and heading down to the lobby... This is where the normalcy of the day stopped, as I needed a taxi to get me to where I thought I'd get dropped off and waltz around... Instead, I got a 'private' taxi driver, who very quickly became my 'private tour guide for the 4-ish hours I'd have before having to make it to the airport for my flight to Lima... The tour was incredible - my private driver should have been the Minister of Tourism for the City of Bogotá. In my 4 hours, I saw so much more than I expected when I rolled out of bed, and learned a tremendous amount about the city - he took me to where the equivalent of the Declaration of Independence was signed, and where the forefathers of Colombia ratified their Constitution; the former being in a church, the latter being in a little plaza in the barrio of La Candelaría (the old part of town, with narrow streets, colorful buildings, and, obviously, incredible history).
My first few stops were around the house of Simon Bolivar, the liberator of Gran Colombia, which is at the base of the mountains where two church/monastery combinations were built to stand guard over the city, each north of 2000 meters and looking over Bogotá. The only two ways up/down, to Monserrati (the lower of the two), are by funicular or gondola (called a 'metrocable' but pronounced differently than you just said it in your head as you read). After touring this area, we went to the house itself, and then on to La Candelaría, before heading to the Plaza de Bolivar, the mother of all Plaza de Bolivars in Colombia. Three giant cathedrals stood on one side, with the other three sides of the Plaza surrounded by the Palacio de Justicia (this has been newly rebuilt, as M-19 burned the previous one to the ground in a terrorist attack in 1985), the Capitolio Nacional, and the Edificio Llevanó (City Hall). When I say, there were about 500,000 people out on this day, I am not kidding, as Colombia is one of the most devoutly faithful Roman Catholic countries in the world, and Good Friday of Semana Santa is relatively important to them... The masses were incredible, and even my newfound buddy said he thought the majority of the people out on this day to enter a church in the center of town were a little bit 'off'... Now, coming from a guy who told me he was religious, I found it to be somewhat comical...
At the end of the tour, I was both exhausted, and relieved, as my time in Colombia could not have been more amazing... I am looking forward to my next chance to go back, and with any luck, that time will be sooner than I expect, but, we'll see, as there are a lot of other countries in South America to check off...
Colombia - Las Playas de Cartagena
When I arrived at the bus terminal in Medellin, unaware of the bus schedules (they don't really exist in the public realm outside fo the actual terminal), I had learned of the bus company I should use - Rapido Ochoa - from a member of A Small World. So, I went straight to the window to find that I would be waiting for about 3 hours in the terminal until the 13 hour bus ride would commence. I found a little spot in the gigantic, loud, and borderline dirty waiting room, plopped down with all of my stuff, and took out my notebook and pen to take notes on what I had just done during the first 4-ish days in Colombia. My notes, paragraphs, and pages were written in both English and Spanish, as I tried to really embrace the whole 'Spanish' thing, but at times, I was lost without the ability to really express myself in my second tongue, so I would have to revert to English... With time, I got more comfortable, banged out a bunch of stuff, and got a little hungry, not knowing what to expect in terms of food for the overnite ride to Cartagena - what I found was a delicious hot dog, smothered in goodies like shoestring potato chips, special sauce (I didn't even ask), and corn, among other condiments. The hot dogs of Medellin were certainly highlights, as I've yet to have one since returning, fearing the one I try will not be as good as the ones I had.
There are experiences that one can have when traveling with people, be them friends and/or family that cannot be had when alone - now, remove your mind from the gutter for a moment - as the circumstances, freedom, and mindset are completely different. With this trip being the first one I've really taken by myself, I was no longer planning for other people, waiting on other people, or taking in to account what other people were interested in doing or not doing (it was all about me, and what I was in the mood for at any given moment - and I really enjoyed that, surprise surprise). When it comes to meeting people, I've typically been a relatively shy person in foreign situations (literally and figuratively, despite what friends may say), even now, but making the decision to make the trip to Colombia by myself was a great one! Getting on the bus, I was seated next to a young man (I can say that now, as both my mother and sister remind me that I am 'almost' 30) who was heading home for Semana Santa (Saint's Week - aka Easter) to be with his family. He, of all things, was a 22 year-old studying to be in the Seminary, apparently following in the footsteps of several generations of men in his family. So, it's him, and me, and we're surrounded by about a half-dozen, boppity young women, chatting it up - what a decision for me: chit chat about theology for 13 hours with a kid who is clearly dead set on religion, or, try my hand at Spanish with a handful of Colombian girls... The good thing is that I couldn't really go wrong, and always had the 'out' of just putting on headphones and going to sleep...
When I arrived in Cartagena, I had barely slept, and had befriended the girls (my row-mate got off a few hours earlier to make it home to his village, seriously), having spent the majority of the nite chit chatting and laughing about who knows what. However, one thing was for sure - my Spanish was already improving markedly; it had to, because none of them spoke more than three words of English. Could this really have happened to me? At one point, I did find myself looking in the mirror in the bathroom and washing up, saying this exact thing. I now had people to hang out with in Cartagena during the day, and party with at nite, and, six, pretty girls from Medellin, I mean, c'mon! Surely, this is not an experience I would have ever had if I was traveling with a friend, there's just no way...
So, I carried on to Cartagena (the ride from the bus terminal to the old city is about 35 minutes, and it winds right thru some of the poorest communities in Colombia - what a dichotomy!) with the girls, who dropped me off at my hostel before continuing to the house they rented for the week. It was time for me to explore, and get out. My first mistake, however, was reading the map wrong. Those who know me know that I am pretty astute when it comes to map reading, so I was pretty surprised when I walked the 3 blocks, and outside of the city walls (yes, Cartagena is one of the oldest fortified port towns in the New World, and a majority of it's charm lies within the walls of the old city - la ciudad vieja), to what I had presumed would be pristine, Caribbean beach... Well, the shading on the map was where the land met the water, but it was not in the form of crushed coral, rock, and bone (in the form of sand - 'arena' in Spanish), it was a rough, jaggedly rocky coastline. The beach, in Bocagrande, was about 2km away - awesome! I had selected the one hostel that is about as far from the beach as possible... So, I walked down the coast, snapping pictures of Bocagrande - it looks like a mini-Ocean Drive (South Beach, MiamI, USA), with modern sky-scrapers going up across the street from the beaches. One thing is for sure, the guide books were dead on when describing the 'scene' that you can expect when your foot hits the sand.
Los vendedores (vendors) are everywhere, offering mariscos (shellfish), massages, jewelry, coffee (tinto, as they call it in Colombia), cold beverages, fruit, you name it... And, as a 'fresh' face on the beach, I got 'gringoed' - big time! I guess the tan I had from my time in Punta del Este (Uruguay) had worn off, cuz I felt like a white kid, so within about 2 seconds, I was in a chair, eating fresh oysters (tiny as they may have been), getting my feet rubbed, and being offered hand-made jewelry by a guy wearing a River Plate jersey... At least there was something familiar, as I had on an Arsenal t-shirt... Unfortunately, they assumed I played for the team, or had something to do with them, so they continued shucking the oysters, and rubbing my body... When it was all said and done, they told me it would be about $120,000 pesos Colombianos (roughly USD $50) - it was now time to negotiate... I bartered my way down to about $60,000 (woo hoo!) and told them there was no way this 'team' was going to get me a second time for any of this stuff. I then walked up the beach some more, and plopped down to get a tan so I could blend in a bit more with the locals. After a bit, I found a dive shop so I could schedule some 'buceos' over the weekend - something I hadn't done since spring break my senior year in college - and get myself all situated to enjoy Caribbean nitelife, Colombian style...
If you make it to Cartagena, you MUST go to Mr. Babilla - a great bar/club that is filled with young, drunk, dancing, good looking people. Apparently, as I learned while venturing the bar, the Colombian liquor of choice is Aguardiente - a fiery, gasoline-esque, anise-flavored, licorice drink... Really, it's just the Colombian version of sambuca, ouzo, pastis, ojen, kasra, or anything else you can add to the list from around the world - I don't like any of the former, but figured I'd check that box in Colombia, why the hell not! Well, it does just the same thing as the rest - the result is that you end up crawling home, wasted, but you have a great time in the process (at least the pictures suggest I did, ha). This was basically what happened every nite, and I loved every minute of it, but it was the waking up in the morning for my dives that became a little tricky after the third nite...
Cartagena, while being on the Caribbean, has been exposed to 'port-related' activity for a handful of years now (like, hundreds), so despite the beauty of the protected Rosario Islands, the best scuba diving is really much further north off the coasts of the islands of Providencia, San Andrés, and Santa Catalina - a hotly contested archipelago with Nicaragua - but that's a 90-minute flight, and in the cards for a future trip to Colombia. Nonetheless, I went on the dives thru the shop called Buzos de Baru, a small, family-owned shop (two brothers, and a wife of one of them, all of whom are quite nice, speak English, and are master divers/instructors). I ended up making 4 dives, two 'acuarios' (reef dives), a deep water dive, and a shipwreck, the latter of which was the first one I had made. It was pretty interesting swimming thru a WWII era ship that sunk off the coast - we actually ran in to quite a large fish (no clue of the species, but gigantic) who had taken up residence below the decks in one of the aft cabins... In Rosario, we lunched after our two dives on the first day, being fed a mound of fish, fruit, and salad, all of which were pretty good when run together - the name of the island highlighting this little excursion: La Isla de la Pirata. Nuf said...
The city of Cartagena, the old part, is loaded with narrow streets, colorful buildings, cobblestone streets, vendors galore, and a romantic vibrance that I have never experienced before in my life. The closest things I can think of are the streets of Old San Juan (Puerto Rico, USA?), but that barely holds Cartagena's jock strap, to use a sports reference. The people, who are a total mixed bag of Caribbean, Spanish, African, and European was a refreshing, diversified population - certainly one WAY darker than here in Buenos Aires, so it was nice to finally see a little bit of diversity. I often wondered if racism, given the history of colonial rule, slavery, inter-racial 'relations' and years of mixed-breeding (that sounds like dogs), is still prevalent. It certainly didn't seem like that, as everyone just seemed happy to be providing services, even if their idea of providing service was badgering the hell out of tourists to buy stupid crap, or to get a tip for taking a picture (cueue the 'chiquita banana lady').
The city is one that should be seen, and shared with someone special, as it offers all the great qualities of a resort town (day excursions, beach-side lounging, cocktails with umbrellas) with all the benefits of a European village along the Mediterranean (culture, color, nitelife, and seafood - this could just be a function of not having great access to seafood in BA). So, get to Cartagena when it's warm, enjoy the experience, and hopefully you'll have some stories to tell and photos to share when you get home...
There are experiences that one can have when traveling with people, be them friends and/or family that cannot be had when alone - now, remove your mind from the gutter for a moment - as the circumstances, freedom, and mindset are completely different. With this trip being the first one I've really taken by myself, I was no longer planning for other people, waiting on other people, or taking in to account what other people were interested in doing or not doing (it was all about me, and what I was in the mood for at any given moment - and I really enjoyed that, surprise surprise). When it comes to meeting people, I've typically been a relatively shy person in foreign situations (literally and figuratively, despite what friends may say), even now, but making the decision to make the trip to Colombia by myself was a great one! Getting on the bus, I was seated next to a young man (I can say that now, as both my mother and sister remind me that I am 'almost' 30) who was heading home for Semana Santa (Saint's Week - aka Easter) to be with his family. He, of all things, was a 22 year-old studying to be in the Seminary, apparently following in the footsteps of several generations of men in his family. So, it's him, and me, and we're surrounded by about a half-dozen, boppity young women, chatting it up - what a decision for me: chit chat about theology for 13 hours with a kid who is clearly dead set on religion, or, try my hand at Spanish with a handful of Colombian girls... The good thing is that I couldn't really go wrong, and always had the 'out' of just putting on headphones and going to sleep...
When I arrived in Cartagena, I had barely slept, and had befriended the girls (my row-mate got off a few hours earlier to make it home to his village, seriously), having spent the majority of the nite chit chatting and laughing about who knows what. However, one thing was for sure - my Spanish was already improving markedly; it had to, because none of them spoke more than three words of English. Could this really have happened to me? At one point, I did find myself looking in the mirror in the bathroom and washing up, saying this exact thing. I now had people to hang out with in Cartagena during the day, and party with at nite, and, six, pretty girls from Medellin, I mean, c'mon! Surely, this is not an experience I would have ever had if I was traveling with a friend, there's just no way...
So, I carried on to Cartagena (the ride from the bus terminal to the old city is about 35 minutes, and it winds right thru some of the poorest communities in Colombia - what a dichotomy!) with the girls, who dropped me off at my hostel before continuing to the house they rented for the week. It was time for me to explore, and get out. My first mistake, however, was reading the map wrong. Those who know me know that I am pretty astute when it comes to map reading, so I was pretty surprised when I walked the 3 blocks, and outside of the city walls (yes, Cartagena is one of the oldest fortified port towns in the New World, and a majority of it's charm lies within the walls of the old city - la ciudad vieja), to what I had presumed would be pristine, Caribbean beach... Well, the shading on the map was where the land met the water, but it was not in the form of crushed coral, rock, and bone (in the form of sand - 'arena' in Spanish), it was a rough, jaggedly rocky coastline. The beach, in Bocagrande, was about 2km away - awesome! I had selected the one hostel that is about as far from the beach as possible... So, I walked down the coast, snapping pictures of Bocagrande - it looks like a mini-Ocean Drive (South Beach, MiamI, USA), with modern sky-scrapers going up across the street from the beaches. One thing is for sure, the guide books were dead on when describing the 'scene' that you can expect when your foot hits the sand.
Los vendedores (vendors) are everywhere, offering mariscos (shellfish), massages, jewelry, coffee (tinto, as they call it in Colombia), cold beverages, fruit, you name it... And, as a 'fresh' face on the beach, I got 'gringoed' - big time! I guess the tan I had from my time in Punta del Este (Uruguay) had worn off, cuz I felt like a white kid, so within about 2 seconds, I was in a chair, eating fresh oysters (tiny as they may have been), getting my feet rubbed, and being offered hand-made jewelry by a guy wearing a River Plate jersey... At least there was something familiar, as I had on an Arsenal t-shirt... Unfortunately, they assumed I played for the team, or had something to do with them, so they continued shucking the oysters, and rubbing my body... When it was all said and done, they told me it would be about $120,000 pesos Colombianos (roughly USD $50) - it was now time to negotiate... I bartered my way down to about $60,000 (woo hoo!) and told them there was no way this 'team' was going to get me a second time for any of this stuff. I then walked up the beach some more, and plopped down to get a tan so I could blend in a bit more with the locals. After a bit, I found a dive shop so I could schedule some 'buceos' over the weekend - something I hadn't done since spring break my senior year in college - and get myself all situated to enjoy Caribbean nitelife, Colombian style...
If you make it to Cartagena, you MUST go to Mr. Babilla - a great bar/club that is filled with young, drunk, dancing, good looking people. Apparently, as I learned while venturing the bar, the Colombian liquor of choice is Aguardiente - a fiery, gasoline-esque, anise-flavored, licorice drink... Really, it's just the Colombian version of sambuca, ouzo, pastis, ojen, kasra, or anything else you can add to the list from around the world - I don't like any of the former, but figured I'd check that box in Colombia, why the hell not! Well, it does just the same thing as the rest - the result is that you end up crawling home, wasted, but you have a great time in the process (at least the pictures suggest I did, ha). This was basically what happened every nite, and I loved every minute of it, but it was the waking up in the morning for my dives that became a little tricky after the third nite...
Cartagena, while being on the Caribbean, has been exposed to 'port-related' activity for a handful of years now (like, hundreds), so despite the beauty of the protected Rosario Islands, the best scuba diving is really much further north off the coasts of the islands of Providencia, San Andrés, and Santa Catalina - a hotly contested archipelago with Nicaragua - but that's a 90-minute flight, and in the cards for a future trip to Colombia. Nonetheless, I went on the dives thru the shop called Buzos de Baru, a small, family-owned shop (two brothers, and a wife of one of them, all of whom are quite nice, speak English, and are master divers/instructors). I ended up making 4 dives, two 'acuarios' (reef dives), a deep water dive, and a shipwreck, the latter of which was the first one I had made. It was pretty interesting swimming thru a WWII era ship that sunk off the coast - we actually ran in to quite a large fish (no clue of the species, but gigantic) who had taken up residence below the decks in one of the aft cabins... In Rosario, we lunched after our two dives on the first day, being fed a mound of fish, fruit, and salad, all of which were pretty good when run together - the name of the island highlighting this little excursion: La Isla de la Pirata. Nuf said...
The city of Cartagena, the old part, is loaded with narrow streets, colorful buildings, cobblestone streets, vendors galore, and a romantic vibrance that I have never experienced before in my life. The closest things I can think of are the streets of Old San Juan (Puerto Rico, USA?), but that barely holds Cartagena's jock strap, to use a sports reference. The people, who are a total mixed bag of Caribbean, Spanish, African, and European was a refreshing, diversified population - certainly one WAY darker than here in Buenos Aires, so it was nice to finally see a little bit of diversity. I often wondered if racism, given the history of colonial rule, slavery, inter-racial 'relations' and years of mixed-breeding (that sounds like dogs), is still prevalent. It certainly didn't seem like that, as everyone just seemed happy to be providing services, even if their idea of providing service was badgering the hell out of tourists to buy stupid crap, or to get a tip for taking a picture (cueue the 'chiquita banana lady').
The city is one that should be seen, and shared with someone special, as it offers all the great qualities of a resort town (day excursions, beach-side lounging, cocktails with umbrellas) with all the benefits of a European village along the Mediterranean (culture, color, nitelife, and seafood - this could just be a function of not having great access to seafood in BA). So, get to Cartagena when it's warm, enjoy the experience, and hopefully you'll have some stories to tell and photos to share when you get home...
Colombia - Manizales/Medellin
Reliving the adventures that I had in Colombia is certainly tough, despite the last two weeks of telling almost everyone about how amazing of a trip I had there, but, I want to share the summary/highlights with you all, as it truly was a mindblowing vacation.
For starters, the trip came about because I had found out about a breakfast panel meeting taking place in Medellin with a handful of big-wig type economists, bank heads, etc discussing the future economic and political challenges South America (all representatives were from various countries in South America). So, having found this meeting, I began to plan a trip through Colombia, figuring, "if I'm going to go to Colombia, I might as well see the country." And, the more I researched, the more people I spoke with about the country, the more interested i became in getting up there, so after a few weeks of monitoring flights to Bogotá, I finally found one for under under US $500, and had to book. Mind you, this was 5 days before the departure, and I really didn't have a 'plan' for the other 13 days of the vacation, but, in trying to turn over a new leaf, I pissed in to the wind and bounced to Colombia, with a backpack, a Lonely Planet guide (which I bought the day before I left), a few contacts, and my iPhone...
The start of my trip couldn't have gotten off worse... Despite the not sleeping the nite before because my flight was so early departing BA, I made it to the airport, got thru security, and boarded - all was fine... Until, we were trying to make our landing in Lima (I had to fly thru Lima to get the super cheap rate to Bogotá)... All of a sudden, the plan makes a weird jerky movement, like the 'ride' at an amusement park when the floor drops out and you free fall for a few seconds, though it feels like forever... Then, the plane made an abrupt ascent, as if we were 'pulling' out of a nuclear bomb detonation... Something didn't feel exactly right, and about 2 seconds later, we received an announcement about poor weather conditions (neblina - fog) In Lima, which were forcing us to reroute to some place to land and wait it out. So, 5 hours later, we go the go ahead from Lima, that it was finally ok to return for a landing... Needless to say, I missed my connection and was rebooked on a flight leaving about 7 hours later, totally screwing up my plans for the first day and overnight bus ride I was trying to take to get to my first destination - Manizales.
Upon arrival in Bogotá, it was about 1.30a, I snuggled up to the most comfortable bench, sent a few emails to family/friends telling them of my travails, and tried to get some rest, as the flight I was more or less forced to book from Bogotá to Manizales (in Lima) was departing at 5.50a. Instead of losing a full day of travel via bus from Bogotá to Manizales, I opted to eat the US $140 and just get there...
The arrival to Manizales was out of a movie - the sun poking through the clouds, the city built in-to and on top of a mountain, the green forests draping the Andes Mountains, and the single, black runway at the airport... Magnificent! I had had plenty of time to research the area, and was hoping to make it early enough to catch a hiking tour to the Parque Nacional de Los Nevados, where 3 volcanoes are located, all of which have wreaked havoc on the surrounding communities over the years. Unfortunately, the adventure company's office was not open at 7a, and by the time they opened at 8a, the tour had already gone for the day, so I opted for the next best thing that day - a tour of the Zona Cafetera (coffee growing region - think Juan Valdez). This tour was unlike anything I had previously experienced. El paisaje (the landscape) of Colombia is totalmente increíble! Driving from Manizales out to the fincas (coffee plantations), the elevation decreased a bit, the temperate rose, the sun was blaring, and the sky was blue - I really couldn't have asked for much more, except for maybe a shower, but I knew I could get one of those later. Throughout the tour, which was given to me privately by the owner of the company (all in Spanish I might add), I kept finding myself being amazed with the topography of what I was seeing - dicing through the mountains, seeing plush forests, fincas, estancias (ranches), etc, and buzzing around every turn with a bit of fear, as the road barriers 'protecting' cars from a certain demise should they careen off the side were far from 'protective,' acting more like guideposts...
Finally, we came to the finca for a tour and a tasting... For those who know me, I'm NOT a coffee drinker... Er, correction, I was formerly a non-coffee drinker, until now... I love the stuff! Maybe it would be like losing your virginity to a Victoria's Secret model, but I really have a thing for coffee now. Not dissimilar to wine tasting, there are certain aromas, methods of service/presentation, mouth feel, and flavors to look for to determine the quality of the cup. And, like wine, really good cafeteros (I think) can tell from which areas a particular bean was grown/harvested, just like those super snooty sommeliers.
Well, day 1 was all but over, after having dinner, alone, at a parrilla in the Zona Rosa (caveat: all towns in Colombia have a Zona Rosa), which was surprisingly slow, granted it was a Monday, when I returned to my hotel to learn that my sister was finally free from her now last job, and first one she had out of school. It was melancholy, but something she had wanted for a while, albeit under different circumstances (she's since founda new, better job and has the time to come visit me!).
So, having signed up for the hiking tour up the volcanos earlier in the day, I made the decision to skip the meeting in Medellin and enjoy the Colombian countryside, and that I did. I woke up the next morning with plenty of time to spare in order to pack, organize my things and meet the van downstairs for my 7a pickup... Well, when 745a rolled around, I began to get a little nervous, as I had no way of contacting the office because they weren't opening until 8a, which I learned on my first day... Luckily, the guide called the hotel and told the front desk they were on their way, as a few of the other people they picked up stayed a bit further away - phew!
The trip from Manizales to Parque Nacional de Los Nevados was breathtaking... It lasted a few hours until we got to 'base camp' at about 4,600 meters (just a hair over 15,000 feet), and the views were amazing... Observing the climatic changes as our elevation increased, the life-forms and vegetation that changed as the amount of oxygen in the air decreases was pretty cool to experience. Driving through 'the pass' in Colorado always takes my breath away, but this seemed, and felt different. By the time we got to base camp, the temperate had dropped considerably (something I wasn't entirely prepared for when I packed clothes for two weeks, whoops!), and I had to put on the pair of gloves (guantes) that I purchased at some random stop we made, and zip up. I was decked out in a hoodie, a spring-weight ski jacket, wool gloves, a pair of soccer warm up pants, and sneakers - hardly the attire of a trekker north of 15,000 feet... So, from base camp, we began the hike, which lasted a few hours, experiencing even more climate changes - at one point, the terrain felt like the moon (footprints in the mud-like soil that was soft enough to wipe out easily, yet firm enough to support someone walking cautiously), with barren landscapes and a chill in the air that seemed surreal. Finally, we got to about 4,900 meters, where a large Colombian flag was raised. Naturally, the group was not comprised of a bunch of mountaineers (just our guide), so we took a much needed break, to take photos, of course! After about 15 minutes, we continued onward, hiking to 5,000 meters, where snow-peaked mountains starting poking through the cloud-line - there wasn't any noticeable living vegetation, nor mammalian life at this point either. At this altitude, the soil was slick, and the snow was soft, so we did what anyone else would do - we made giant snow balls and launched them tumbling down the mountainside! A few more pictures at the near-top of the mountain (a sign at 4,900 meters suggests that only experienced trekkers should continue past 5,000 meters, or risk serious health problems - one of those signs you read before sky-diving/bungee jumping/paragliding, only the middle of which I have yet to do), and the reverse trek began… This is where the altitude clearly began to affect our midnsets, as I opted to make a little game of it – skiing in sneakers and tobogoning on my ass... And yes, I have videos of both, what a great day!
On to Medellin, where the Sheraton was awaiting my arrival with a clean bed, a hot shower, and some room service – I figured this was all well deserved after my first 3 days in Colombia…
For those who have not had the opportunity, Medellin is an absolute must if you’re passing through South America… The city really does have it all – an absolutely breathtaking vista from everywhere; it has been developed/built in a valley like most cities in Colombia, and is completely surrounded by mountains. The two days I spent here were 'a pie' (on foot), visiting, seeing, photographing, and sampling as much as I could. Despite having missed the meeting that had been the catalyst for the entire planning of the trip to Colombia, the conference that had been taking place for the 50th Anniversary of the Inter-American Bank of Development (the investment/development arm of the World Bank, aimed at assisting credit-worthy poorer countries with a long history in South America) was still in full swing, so the city was absolutely immaculate - something as big as this conference likely ahd been in the works for years, so the city had plenty of time to prepare to host the leaders of the free-world's investment decisions and representatives from international banks galore, etcetera, etcetera... I was lucky to have been there during this time, as everyone I dealt with, from street vendors, cab drivers, bankers, and fellow tourists, were all incredible gracious and 'super'-nice (a widely-used adverb in Colombia). Being from a city, I wanted to just hit the pavement, having done 'rural' adventures the previous two days in/around Manizales, so I took to the streets, learned the light-rail system (it was amazingly efficient, extremely clean, and quite direct) and hit the town.
On my first day, i wanted to get a sense of what El Centro had to offer, namely, museums, churches, governmental buildings, parks, and the general business sector of the city. With my day-pack in tow, I pulled out my city-guide (one of the nice things about the Sheraton was that it was a 'host' hotel for the conference, so a little tour-guide kiosk was set up and offering free pamphlets of the tours they offered - thank you very much for the advice) and Lonely Planet and mapped out my first day. I hit El Centro in full stride, having grabbed a bite to eat at a little breakfast place on Parque Lleras (in the trendy, upscale neighborhood of Poblado south of downtown), and finished with a coffee - even now, it still seems a little strange that I have been converted to a coffee drinker. The train ride from the south to downtown was pretty cool, as the day was nice and the weather was perfect to be 'a pie' and as we cruised, I could feel the vibrance of the town bouncing around the mountains... I ended up popping in and out of what felt like 30 churches, just in El Centro, and shuffled between Plaza Bolivar/El Catedral, and the Plaza de Esculturas (de Botero) quite easily, snapping away like a paparazzi on a mission. Now, I had ready about Not about Botero, the chosen son of Santa Fe de Antioquia (the region, or, "departamento" of Colombia where Medellin resides), but didn't really realize that both the Plaza de Esculturas and the Museo de Antioquia (along with well-placed Botero-inspired billboards) were dedicated almost entirely to him until I turned the corner around the Palacio de Cultura (which was formerly a governmental palace and is beautifully designed) and was smack dab at a bronze convention of oversized, blobby-glob sculptures of rounded people and animals - it felt kind of weird, but very cool at the same time. So, I ended up passing the majority of the day roaming a few of the streets, peotonals, museums, and buildings, trying to indulge myself in a bit of 'Paisa' (the term for a person from Medellin) culture - pretty cool stuff. The day ended with drinks in Parque Lleras, despite the rain...
With only the rest of the second day in Medellin to spare, ha, I had a fairly aggressive plan to head to the northern part of the city to check out the 'other' sights (there are a ton, and I knew there was no way I would even come close to checking off all the boxes, but, when in Rome?!) - Parque Explora/Acuario, Jardín Botánico, Parque de Deseos, Parque Norte (get the idea - this was my 'parque' day)... Unfortunately, the weather was not on my side for spending a day outside, as it was overcast, a bit rainy, and a little chilly, but, I carried on... I hit the Jardín Botanico a little before noon, after making my way from the hotel after a light, on the fly breakfast courtesy of some street vendors, and didn't really know what to expect - I had read good things, but when it comes to gardens, flowers, and plants, it can be hit or miss with the delivery... Well, I couldn't have been more amazed - not only was admission free, but the cleanliness, tranquility, and organization of the entire 'park' was awe-inspiring. From the palm forest, to the 'casa de mariposas,' to the research laboratory (a super-modern glass and metal building with tons of natural light; probably something to help the plant experiment I found while wandering around unescorted), to the cactus region, along the winding path to the event space and restaurant, and finally, the big daddy - the orquideorama (an homage to the nationally cultivated, and highly exported orchid trade). This place was amazing!! Seeing this monster structure from afar made me feel like I was in Return of the Jedi approaching the Ewok village - a large canopy protecting what appeared to be a mystical enclosure... As I got closer, I was in awe of the size of this section of the park (which, was newly renovated, having taken about 3 years between 2005-2007). The flowers that it contained were incredible - the variety of colors, textures, and species was breathtaking. I spent a good hour, alone, in the orquideorama, snapping photos of all the plants, flowers, people, and artists who all seemed to be as taken back by the surroundings. The yoga class I came upon certainly seemed fitting, as did the art class, and handful of small-ish tours that were waltzing through. I finally ended my amazement by taking a step in to the restaurant, which overlooked another area of the park for what ended up being a very delicious, and very peaceful lunch. Now, the afternoon was getting away from me, and I had to get out and see the other parks in he neighborhood, before heading to the bus station for the overnight ride to Cartagena. So, I walked across the street and headed to Parque Explora, a kind of Museum of Science and Industry (Chicago) mixed with the Shedd Acquarium (Chicago) and Lincoln Park Zoo Reptile Exhibit (Chicago, are you surprised?). This building was clearly very new as well (based on a handful of periodicals I picked up after visiting, it seems to have opened in 2008), with a super-modern facade that seemed to be built on pedestals connecting three distinct, red, metallic buildings (each of which housed various parts of science and industry). With my camera battery running low because of the exhaustive use I put it through at the botanical garden, I raced through in order to carry on my aggressive run through the city's parks. Unfortunately, after buzzing through the reptilian room, and the aquarium (my two favorite places), I only had enough time to duck in to one of the three, large exhibit spaces offering visitors a selection of physical science, geology, and the digital world. I went with physical science, naturally... In here, I learned how little I knew about life's sciences, in Spanish, and how useful a role museums play in educating the youth of all countries. I learned a tremendous amount, not specifically about science, as I had already gone through much of the content and have continued my education through the Discovery Channel, but, I learned all of this stuff in Spanish, which was the important part. It was pretty cool to be taught by someone who appeared to be in high school, explaining the function of things like pressure, force, gravity, etc, in Spanish.
So, after bailing out on Parque Explora, I went outside, only to find that it was now drizzling - awesome! I busted out and darted to Parque de Deseos, figuring I could make Parque Norte (an amusement park) the next time I spin through Medellin. When I arrived to Parque de Deseos, it felt a little different that the way my Lonely Planet described it - the modern, concrete park where all the college kids hang out (it's close to the University of Antioquia)... The age of the students was more like junior high school than college, and it wasn't quite as big as I imagined, but it was certainly quite modern, and completely made of concrete, but not in a skate-park kind of way. After walking through, I hopped back on the metro toward the hotel, where I did a quick turnaround and headed for the bus station to catch a ride to paradise...
For starters, the trip came about because I had found out about a breakfast panel meeting taking place in Medellin with a handful of big-wig type economists, bank heads, etc discussing the future economic and political challenges South America (all representatives were from various countries in South America). So, having found this meeting, I began to plan a trip through Colombia, figuring, "if I'm going to go to Colombia, I might as well see the country." And, the more I researched, the more people I spoke with about the country, the more interested i became in getting up there, so after a few weeks of monitoring flights to Bogotá, I finally found one for under under US $500, and had to book. Mind you, this was 5 days before the departure, and I really didn't have a 'plan' for the other 13 days of the vacation, but, in trying to turn over a new leaf, I pissed in to the wind and bounced to Colombia, with a backpack, a Lonely Planet guide (which I bought the day before I left), a few contacts, and my iPhone...
The start of my trip couldn't have gotten off worse... Despite the not sleeping the nite before because my flight was so early departing BA, I made it to the airport, got thru security, and boarded - all was fine... Until, we were trying to make our landing in Lima (I had to fly thru Lima to get the super cheap rate to Bogotá)... All of a sudden, the plan makes a weird jerky movement, like the 'ride' at an amusement park when the floor drops out and you free fall for a few seconds, though it feels like forever... Then, the plane made an abrupt ascent, as if we were 'pulling' out of a nuclear bomb detonation... Something didn't feel exactly right, and about 2 seconds later, we received an announcement about poor weather conditions (neblina - fog) In Lima, which were forcing us to reroute to some place to land and wait it out. So, 5 hours later, we go the go ahead from Lima, that it was finally ok to return for a landing... Needless to say, I missed my connection and was rebooked on a flight leaving about 7 hours later, totally screwing up my plans for the first day and overnight bus ride I was trying to take to get to my first destination - Manizales.
Upon arrival in Bogotá, it was about 1.30a, I snuggled up to the most comfortable bench, sent a few emails to family/friends telling them of my travails, and tried to get some rest, as the flight I was more or less forced to book from Bogotá to Manizales (in Lima) was departing at 5.50a. Instead of losing a full day of travel via bus from Bogotá to Manizales, I opted to eat the US $140 and just get there...
The arrival to Manizales was out of a movie - the sun poking through the clouds, the city built in-to and on top of a mountain, the green forests draping the Andes Mountains, and the single, black runway at the airport... Magnificent! I had had plenty of time to research the area, and was hoping to make it early enough to catch a hiking tour to the Parque Nacional de Los Nevados, where 3 volcanoes are located, all of which have wreaked havoc on the surrounding communities over the years. Unfortunately, the adventure company's office was not open at 7a, and by the time they opened at 8a, the tour had already gone for the day, so I opted for the next best thing that day - a tour of the Zona Cafetera (coffee growing region - think Juan Valdez). This tour was unlike anything I had previously experienced. El paisaje (the landscape) of Colombia is totalmente increíble! Driving from Manizales out to the fincas (coffee plantations), the elevation decreased a bit, the temperate rose, the sun was blaring, and the sky was blue - I really couldn't have asked for much more, except for maybe a shower, but I knew I could get one of those later. Throughout the tour, which was given to me privately by the owner of the company (all in Spanish I might add), I kept finding myself being amazed with the topography of what I was seeing - dicing through the mountains, seeing plush forests, fincas, estancias (ranches), etc, and buzzing around every turn with a bit of fear, as the road barriers 'protecting' cars from a certain demise should they careen off the side were far from 'protective,' acting more like guideposts...
Finally, we came to the finca for a tour and a tasting... For those who know me, I'm NOT a coffee drinker... Er, correction, I was formerly a non-coffee drinker, until now... I love the stuff! Maybe it would be like losing your virginity to a Victoria's Secret model, but I really have a thing for coffee now. Not dissimilar to wine tasting, there are certain aromas, methods of service/presentation, mouth feel, and flavors to look for to determine the quality of the cup. And, like wine, really good cafeteros (I think) can tell from which areas a particular bean was grown/harvested, just like those super snooty sommeliers.
Well, day 1 was all but over, after having dinner, alone, at a parrilla in the Zona Rosa (caveat: all towns in Colombia have a Zona Rosa), which was surprisingly slow, granted it was a Monday, when I returned to my hotel to learn that my sister was finally free from her now last job, and first one she had out of school. It was melancholy, but something she had wanted for a while, albeit under different circumstances (she's since founda new, better job and has the time to come visit me!).
So, having signed up for the hiking tour up the volcanos earlier in the day, I made the decision to skip the meeting in Medellin and enjoy the Colombian countryside, and that I did. I woke up the next morning with plenty of time to spare in order to pack, organize my things and meet the van downstairs for my 7a pickup... Well, when 745a rolled around, I began to get a little nervous, as I had no way of contacting the office because they weren't opening until 8a, which I learned on my first day... Luckily, the guide called the hotel and told the front desk they were on their way, as a few of the other people they picked up stayed a bit further away - phew!
The trip from Manizales to Parque Nacional de Los Nevados was breathtaking... It lasted a few hours until we got to 'base camp' at about 4,600 meters (just a hair over 15,000 feet), and the views were amazing... Observing the climatic changes as our elevation increased, the life-forms and vegetation that changed as the amount of oxygen in the air decreases was pretty cool to experience. Driving through 'the pass' in Colorado always takes my breath away, but this seemed, and felt different. By the time we got to base camp, the temperate had dropped considerably (something I wasn't entirely prepared for when I packed clothes for two weeks, whoops!), and I had to put on the pair of gloves (guantes) that I purchased at some random stop we made, and zip up. I was decked out in a hoodie, a spring-weight ski jacket, wool gloves, a pair of soccer warm up pants, and sneakers - hardly the attire of a trekker north of 15,000 feet... So, from base camp, we began the hike, which lasted a few hours, experiencing even more climate changes - at one point, the terrain felt like the moon (footprints in the mud-like soil that was soft enough to wipe out easily, yet firm enough to support someone walking cautiously), with barren landscapes and a chill in the air that seemed surreal. Finally, we got to about 4,900 meters, where a large Colombian flag was raised. Naturally, the group was not comprised of a bunch of mountaineers (just our guide), so we took a much needed break, to take photos, of course! After about 15 minutes, we continued onward, hiking to 5,000 meters, where snow-peaked mountains starting poking through the cloud-line - there wasn't any noticeable living vegetation, nor mammalian life at this point either. At this altitude, the soil was slick, and the snow was soft, so we did what anyone else would do - we made giant snow balls and launched them tumbling down the mountainside! A few more pictures at the near-top of the mountain (a sign at 4,900 meters suggests that only experienced trekkers should continue past 5,000 meters, or risk serious health problems - one of those signs you read before sky-diving/bungee jumping/paragliding, only the middle of which I have yet to do), and the reverse trek began… This is where the altitude clearly began to affect our midnsets, as I opted to make a little game of it – skiing in sneakers and tobogoning on my ass... And yes, I have videos of both, what a great day!
On to Medellin, where the Sheraton was awaiting my arrival with a clean bed, a hot shower, and some room service – I figured this was all well deserved after my first 3 days in Colombia…
For those who have not had the opportunity, Medellin is an absolute must if you’re passing through South America… The city really does have it all – an absolutely breathtaking vista from everywhere; it has been developed/built in a valley like most cities in Colombia, and is completely surrounded by mountains. The two days I spent here were 'a pie' (on foot), visiting, seeing, photographing, and sampling as much as I could. Despite having missed the meeting that had been the catalyst for the entire planning of the trip to Colombia, the conference that had been taking place for the 50th Anniversary of the Inter-American Bank of Development (the investment/development arm of the World Bank, aimed at assisting credit-worthy poorer countries with a long history in South America) was still in full swing, so the city was absolutely immaculate - something as big as this conference likely ahd been in the works for years, so the city had plenty of time to prepare to host the leaders of the free-world's investment decisions and representatives from international banks galore, etcetera, etcetera... I was lucky to have been there during this time, as everyone I dealt with, from street vendors, cab drivers, bankers, and fellow tourists, were all incredible gracious and 'super'-nice (a widely-used adverb in Colombia). Being from a city, I wanted to just hit the pavement, having done 'rural' adventures the previous two days in/around Manizales, so I took to the streets, learned the light-rail system (it was amazingly efficient, extremely clean, and quite direct) and hit the town.
On my first day, i wanted to get a sense of what El Centro had to offer, namely, museums, churches, governmental buildings, parks, and the general business sector of the city. With my day-pack in tow, I pulled out my city-guide (one of the nice things about the Sheraton was that it was a 'host' hotel for the conference, so a little tour-guide kiosk was set up and offering free pamphlets of the tours they offered - thank you very much for the advice) and Lonely Planet and mapped out my first day. I hit El Centro in full stride, having grabbed a bite to eat at a little breakfast place on Parque Lleras (in the trendy, upscale neighborhood of Poblado south of downtown), and finished with a coffee - even now, it still seems a little strange that I have been converted to a coffee drinker. The train ride from the south to downtown was pretty cool, as the day was nice and the weather was perfect to be 'a pie' and as we cruised, I could feel the vibrance of the town bouncing around the mountains... I ended up popping in and out of what felt like 30 churches, just in El Centro, and shuffled between Plaza Bolivar/El Catedral, and the Plaza de Esculturas (de Botero) quite easily, snapping away like a paparazzi on a mission. Now, I had ready about Not about Botero, the chosen son of Santa Fe de Antioquia (the region, or, "departamento" of Colombia where Medellin resides), but didn't really realize that both the Plaza de Esculturas and the Museo de Antioquia (along with well-placed Botero-inspired billboards) were dedicated almost entirely to him until I turned the corner around the Palacio de Cultura (which was formerly a governmental palace and is beautifully designed) and was smack dab at a bronze convention of oversized, blobby-glob sculptures of rounded people and animals - it felt kind of weird, but very cool at the same time. So, I ended up passing the majority of the day roaming a few of the streets, peotonals, museums, and buildings, trying to indulge myself in a bit of 'Paisa' (the term for a person from Medellin) culture - pretty cool stuff. The day ended with drinks in Parque Lleras, despite the rain...
With only the rest of the second day in Medellin to spare, ha, I had a fairly aggressive plan to head to the northern part of the city to check out the 'other' sights (there are a ton, and I knew there was no way I would even come close to checking off all the boxes, but, when in Rome?!) - Parque Explora/Acuario, Jardín Botánico, Parque de Deseos, Parque Norte (get the idea - this was my 'parque' day)... Unfortunately, the weather was not on my side for spending a day outside, as it was overcast, a bit rainy, and a little chilly, but, I carried on... I hit the Jardín Botanico a little before noon, after making my way from the hotel after a light, on the fly breakfast courtesy of some street vendors, and didn't really know what to expect - I had read good things, but when it comes to gardens, flowers, and plants, it can be hit or miss with the delivery... Well, I couldn't have been more amazed - not only was admission free, but the cleanliness, tranquility, and organization of the entire 'park' was awe-inspiring. From the palm forest, to the 'casa de mariposas,' to the research laboratory (a super-modern glass and metal building with tons of natural light; probably something to help the plant experiment I found while wandering around unescorted), to the cactus region, along the winding path to the event space and restaurant, and finally, the big daddy - the orquideorama (an homage to the nationally cultivated, and highly exported orchid trade). This place was amazing!! Seeing this monster structure from afar made me feel like I was in Return of the Jedi approaching the Ewok village - a large canopy protecting what appeared to be a mystical enclosure... As I got closer, I was in awe of the size of this section of the park (which, was newly renovated, having taken about 3 years between 2005-2007). The flowers that it contained were incredible - the variety of colors, textures, and species was breathtaking. I spent a good hour, alone, in the orquideorama, snapping photos of all the plants, flowers, people, and artists who all seemed to be as taken back by the surroundings. The yoga class I came upon certainly seemed fitting, as did the art class, and handful of small-ish tours that were waltzing through. I finally ended my amazement by taking a step in to the restaurant, which overlooked another area of the park for what ended up being a very delicious, and very peaceful lunch. Now, the afternoon was getting away from me, and I had to get out and see the other parks in he neighborhood, before heading to the bus station for the overnight ride to Cartagena. So, I walked across the street and headed to Parque Explora, a kind of Museum of Science and Industry (Chicago) mixed with the Shedd Acquarium (Chicago) and Lincoln Park Zoo Reptile Exhibit (Chicago, are you surprised?). This building was clearly very new as well (based on a handful of periodicals I picked up after visiting, it seems to have opened in 2008), with a super-modern facade that seemed to be built on pedestals connecting three distinct, red, metallic buildings (each of which housed various parts of science and industry). With my camera battery running low because of the exhaustive use I put it through at the botanical garden, I raced through in order to carry on my aggressive run through the city's parks. Unfortunately, after buzzing through the reptilian room, and the aquarium (my two favorite places), I only had enough time to duck in to one of the three, large exhibit spaces offering visitors a selection of physical science, geology, and the digital world. I went with physical science, naturally... In here, I learned how little I knew about life's sciences, in Spanish, and how useful a role museums play in educating the youth of all countries. I learned a tremendous amount, not specifically about science, as I had already gone through much of the content and have continued my education through the Discovery Channel, but, I learned all of this stuff in Spanish, which was the important part. It was pretty cool to be taught by someone who appeared to be in high school, explaining the function of things like pressure, force, gravity, etc, in Spanish.
So, after bailing out on Parque Explora, I went outside, only to find that it was now drizzling - awesome! I busted out and darted to Parque de Deseos, figuring I could make Parque Norte (an amusement park) the next time I spin through Medellin. When I arrived to Parque de Deseos, it felt a little different that the way my Lonely Planet described it - the modern, concrete park where all the college kids hang out (it's close to the University of Antioquia)... The age of the students was more like junior high school than college, and it wasn't quite as big as I imagined, but it was certainly quite modern, and completely made of concrete, but not in a skate-park kind of way. After walking through, I hopped back on the metro toward the hotel, where I did a quick turnaround and headed for the bus station to catch a ride to paradise...
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
1976
So, today was the 33rd anniversary of the beginning of the military junta rule over Argentina... This, was something I was previously unaware of prior to my arrival - and in reality, prior to a month ago, when I started reading more in class about various topics and having more in depth discussions about the political history (read: instability) of Argentina. The times, which have been characterized by both sides as brutal, are known as 'The Dirty War' - in short, the children of the revolutionist left trying to unseat the dictator/junta were taken from their parents (with the parents and young men often referred to as 'the disappeared') and 'adopted' to the military leaders of the junta... From what I've learned, thru first-hand accounts, magazines, books, and newspapers, there's a generation of children who have been adopted to Argentines, Uruguayans, Brasilians, Chileans, and a few others who will never be able to identify their true heritage as a result of their parents' purported involvement in a movement to overthrow a military coup. It was a sad time in the history of Argentina, which is still remembered, every 24th of March - not so much as a celebration, but as a memory of what the country went through...
Friday, March 20, 2009
Rege Central - The First Installation
This entry is both a) long overdue, and b) indicative of the type of life us 'ex-pats' live in Baires...
First thing's first - Laura Rege is my roommate extraordinaire and source of witty, time-pertinent comments that still catch me off-guard; in the same way that my younger sister (who is no longer by baby sister) surprises me almost every time I have a chance to spend with her...
Things Laura Loves:
I think it is prudent to point out that Laura has a thing for guys named Adam, naturally... Maybe it's our stylish good looks, or the fact that we are cherished all over the world as the source of the human existence on this planet, or something random (which I doubt), or that we're bad boys, Laura digs us, and it's a great thing! It's nice to be the 'exception' to the Adam Rule, which we will call Ley-1282, as she and I have had a chance to develop a great friendship under what could ordinarily be described as a bizarre situation - economic troubles at home, both left without jobs, desiring something more, a new challenge, etc...
One term that Laura taught me, among others, was "Ama de Casa"... Translated directly, it means 'love of the house' which is typically used to refer to a housewife here in Latin America. With that, Laura has been a lovely 'ama de casa' and we often joke (usually after she has spent a little bit of time pestering me to clean up, help in the kitchen, and generally, stay orderly) about our roles in our living situation. I happen to think, as of now, we have a pretty great thing going on - all the benefits of a domestic partnership, with none of the trials and tribulations of what comes with the dreaded 'next step' questions. We hang, we get along, we go out, and there's not weird, added pressures of 'feelings' between us, so the 'Ama' title that she has is more of an 'apodo' (nickname) that we can joke about. And what's best about it all is when Laura dons her pink 'ama gloves' to really get the kitchen clean (the bathroom is usually my territory)...
For those of you who don't know her, Laura is a health nut... All things good for her, she does. What's most disappointing for her is the total lack of a sophisticated Yoga industry, specifically, the inability to locate a Bikram Yoga studio here in Baires... Big problems! So, in an effort to stay sane, she has resorted to her other pastime, running, and eating healthily, with the occasional slip up to our balcony for a relaxing, personal meditation, which I often join in on, but with my own remedies. She has found two or three places that are absolutely divine (in the context of a health god) - Pura Vida (how fitting), and Natural Deli (is that an oxy-moron?), both of which provide healthy alternatives to the otherwise not-unhealthy, but certainly not healthy, comida criolla (local food).
In addition for her overwhelming bodily craving for salmon sushi, Laura spends her time dreaming of the day when she can become a backup electronica singer to a bad-ass beatmaster-type group. I think she just really wants to be at a giant boliche (club) and hear her own song come on so she can dance to it, sing along, and say, 'that's my song, cariño'... That, and, I think she loves being in front of a camera, as evidenced by a week full of posing shamelessly with anyone and everyone whom we came in to contact with, just so we could take pictures of Laura - it was awesome!
Since we've arrived, the exchange rate between the Argentina Peso and the US Dollar has been moving in favor or the Dollar, which is great for us, and the local fashion industry, as Laura has done a great job, single-handedly, supporting a store called Rhapsodia... Everyone that visits gets a private tour, from Laura, of the company's several stores, and there are times when I've come home to a multiple-trip day to Rhapsodia where the bads of goods purchased are strewn about (notice, I don't complain about the mess when she makes it...).
And, in finality, Laura's great, and everyone should have the chance to hang with her... Buena onda!
First thing's first - Laura Rege is my roommate extraordinaire and source of witty, time-pertinent comments that still catch me off-guard; in the same way that my younger sister (who is no longer by baby sister) surprises me almost every time I have a chance to spend with her...
Things Laura Loves:
I think it is prudent to point out that Laura has a thing for guys named Adam, naturally... Maybe it's our stylish good looks, or the fact that we are cherished all over the world as the source of the human existence on this planet, or something random (which I doubt), or that we're bad boys, Laura digs us, and it's a great thing! It's nice to be the 'exception' to the Adam Rule, which we will call Ley-1282, as she and I have had a chance to develop a great friendship under what could ordinarily be described as a bizarre situation - economic troubles at home, both left without jobs, desiring something more, a new challenge, etc...
One term that Laura taught me, among others, was "Ama de Casa"... Translated directly, it means 'love of the house' which is typically used to refer to a housewife here in Latin America. With that, Laura has been a lovely 'ama de casa' and we often joke (usually after she has spent a little bit of time pestering me to clean up, help in the kitchen, and generally, stay orderly) about our roles in our living situation. I happen to think, as of now, we have a pretty great thing going on - all the benefits of a domestic partnership, with none of the trials and tribulations of what comes with the dreaded 'next step' questions. We hang, we get along, we go out, and there's not weird, added pressures of 'feelings' between us, so the 'Ama' title that she has is more of an 'apodo' (nickname) that we can joke about. And what's best about it all is when Laura dons her pink 'ama gloves' to really get the kitchen clean (the bathroom is usually my territory)...
For those of you who don't know her, Laura is a health nut... All things good for her, she does. What's most disappointing for her is the total lack of a sophisticated Yoga industry, specifically, the inability to locate a Bikram Yoga studio here in Baires... Big problems! So, in an effort to stay sane, she has resorted to her other pastime, running, and eating healthily, with the occasional slip up to our balcony for a relaxing, personal meditation, which I often join in on, but with my own remedies. She has found two or three places that are absolutely divine (in the context of a health god) - Pura Vida (how fitting), and Natural Deli (is that an oxy-moron?), both of which provide healthy alternatives to the otherwise not-unhealthy, but certainly not healthy, comida criolla (local food).
In addition for her overwhelming bodily craving for salmon sushi, Laura spends her time dreaming of the day when she can become a backup electronica singer to a bad-ass beatmaster-type group. I think she just really wants to be at a giant boliche (club) and hear her own song come on so she can dance to it, sing along, and say, 'that's my song, cariño'... That, and, I think she loves being in front of a camera, as evidenced by a week full of posing shamelessly with anyone and everyone whom we came in to contact with, just so we could take pictures of Laura - it was awesome!
Since we've arrived, the exchange rate between the Argentina Peso and the US Dollar has been moving in favor or the Dollar, which is great for us, and the local fashion industry, as Laura has done a great job, single-handedly, supporting a store called Rhapsodia... Everyone that visits gets a private tour, from Laura, of the company's several stores, and there are times when I've come home to a multiple-trip day to Rhapsodia where the bads of goods purchased are strewn about (notice, I don't complain about the mess when she makes it...).
And, in finality, Laura's great, and everyone should have the chance to hang with her... Buena onda!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
F&B
Fernet Branca
For one, it's a beverage... Here's a nice little description: "He's short, he's dark, he's strong, he will fuck you up for good. His name is Fernet Branca and he doesn't take no for an answer." I have to agree with this description, and cannot take any credit for preparing it, but it's totally true. This is the 'national' drink of Argentina, despite it being produced by an Italian company. It's basically the equivalent to Campari, a bitter, smokey, dry, and all-around rough beverage to consume (always mix with a Coke). That all said, it's great! And, like any other stiff drink, it takes time to adapt, so when you make a 'bitter beer face' after your first sip, keep putting it down and eventually, it'll be a refreshing drink to start, complement, and finish a day, or nite...
Café
For those who know me, I have never been much of a coffee drinker, despite growing up in a household with a father from New Orleans (the coffee gene was passed to my sister, apparently) and spending about 2 years in Miami with the Cubanos... So, I have now taken it upon myself to launch a new initiative, similar to the one I began during my senior year - the quest to enjoy a good glass of red wine (success!) - which now entails an attempt to conquer a cup of coffee, albeit with a strong possibility of that cup having a significant amount of both milk and sugar... We'll see how it shakes out, but I can say that I've had, count them 2, dos de café con leche since I arrived... They went down, and weren't awful, but the taste is going to have to grow on me quite a bit...
Yerba Maté
Last, and certainly not least, is another beverage, more along my lines - TEA! Yerba Maté, however, is a different breed... Not only is this concoction like a drug, it's a different brand of tea, altogether. More 'bitter' in flavor, prepared in a maté (effectively, a mug shaped from a block of wood or a gourd) - yes, it's both the container, and the product - and consumed by people socially (shared/passed). At first, I was not a big fan - a hot tea that was really bitter and not all that tasty, but after a few rounds (clearly, there's a theme here when trying to like something new and unfamiliar), and various preparations (addition of sugar, orange soda/juice, cold water, etc) later, I'm now a firm believer. I'm still trying to get the technique down, but I recently purchased my own maté (both the yerba tea leaves, and the container - you need a bombilla, straw, which is made of metal, as you put the maté in the maté, pouring your liquid of choice over the maté, and sipping) and have begun sipping the little devil almost every day. Similar to ritual of chewing coca leaves in the northern plateaus of Argentina, Bolivia, Colombia, and others, sharing/sipping on maté keeps energy up and sociability higher... Between Argentina & Uruguay, the two countries where maté is prominent, you likely won't see hot water being sold on the beach in the dead of summer anywhere else...
For one, it's a beverage... Here's a nice little description: "He's short, he's dark, he's strong, he will fuck you up for good. His name is Fernet Branca and he doesn't take no for an answer." I have to agree with this description, and cannot take any credit for preparing it, but it's totally true. This is the 'national' drink of Argentina, despite it being produced by an Italian company. It's basically the equivalent to Campari, a bitter, smokey, dry, and all-around rough beverage to consume (always mix with a Coke). That all said, it's great! And, like any other stiff drink, it takes time to adapt, so when you make a 'bitter beer face' after your first sip, keep putting it down and eventually, it'll be a refreshing drink to start, complement, and finish a day, or nite...
Café
For those who know me, I have never been much of a coffee drinker, despite growing up in a household with a father from New Orleans (the coffee gene was passed to my sister, apparently) and spending about 2 years in Miami with the Cubanos... So, I have now taken it upon myself to launch a new initiative, similar to the one I began during my senior year - the quest to enjoy a good glass of red wine (success!) - which now entails an attempt to conquer a cup of coffee, albeit with a strong possibility of that cup having a significant amount of both milk and sugar... We'll see how it shakes out, but I can say that I've had, count them 2, dos de café con leche since I arrived... They went down, and weren't awful, but the taste is going to have to grow on me quite a bit...
Yerba Maté
Last, and certainly not least, is another beverage, more along my lines - TEA! Yerba Maté, however, is a different breed... Not only is this concoction like a drug, it's a different brand of tea, altogether. More 'bitter' in flavor, prepared in a maté (effectively, a mug shaped from a block of wood or a gourd) - yes, it's both the container, and the product - and consumed by people socially (shared/passed). At first, I was not a big fan - a hot tea that was really bitter and not all that tasty, but after a few rounds (clearly, there's a theme here when trying to like something new and unfamiliar), and various preparations (addition of sugar, orange soda/juice, cold water, etc) later, I'm now a firm believer. I'm still trying to get the technique down, but I recently purchased my own maté (both the yerba tea leaves, and the container - you need a bombilla, straw, which is made of metal, as you put the maté in the maté, pouring your liquid of choice over the maté, and sipping) and have begun sipping the little devil almost every day. Similar to ritual of chewing coca leaves in the northern plateaus of Argentina, Bolivia, Colombia, and others, sharing/sipping on maté keeps energy up and sociability higher... Between Argentina & Uruguay, the two countries where maté is prominent, you likely won't see hot water being sold on the beach in the dead of summer anywhere else...
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