Sunday, November 6, 2011
Reporting live form Iguazu
We had trouble uploading this in Argentina from our phones. This killed our taking more video dispatches and also brings you this belated video.
Argentine Street Graffiti
I know it's been almost exactly two weeks since we've been back, but I have a few things to post. One is some street graffiti photos I snapped along our trip. Being me,I gravitated toward the political stencils, but I got a few others as well. Enjoy. The Waldo and the Empire one were personal favourites.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
17 Days: Over 5500 Kilometers
We said it would be the trip of a lifetime...
From Buenos Aires to Iguazu Falls, then on to Salta and Purmamarca. A quick stopover in Cordoba then Altagracia. Finally on to Mendoza and then back to Buenos Aires.
Over the course of two and a half weeks we traveled over 5500 kilometers by bus (almost the length of Canada), spent 6 nights sleeping on the road, met special (Grampy) and creepy (Ken, BA Creepster duo, Feral dogs) people, drank copious amounts of wine and made memories that will last forever.
I've known Jo for six years and since we bonded that fateful summer in Ottawa I knew I would have a friend for life. And our collection of stories just continues to grow. Te Amos Joanna!
Below is a photo of the ground we covered and soon to be added (when I can get to a real computer) is a clip before our Iguazu falls daredevil stint which shows only a small dose of the goofiness that was the norm during our trip.
Oh! And I'm still vegan. Take that Argentina!
From Buenos Aires to Iguazu Falls, then on to Salta and Purmamarca. A quick stopover in Cordoba then Altagracia. Finally on to Mendoza and then back to Buenos Aires.
Over the course of two and a half weeks we traveled over 5500 kilometers by bus (almost the length of Canada), spent 6 nights sleeping on the road, met special (Grampy) and creepy (Ken, BA Creepster duo, Feral dogs) people, drank copious amounts of wine and made memories that will last forever.
I've known Jo for six years and since we bonded that fateful summer in Ottawa I knew I would have a friend for life. And our collection of stories just continues to grow. Te Amos Joanna!
Below is a photo of the ground we covered and soon to be added (when I can get to a real computer) is a clip before our Iguazu falls daredevil stint which shows only a small dose of the goofiness that was the norm during our trip.
Oh! And I'm still vegan. Take that Argentina!
Friday, October 21, 2011
MALBA - Museuo De Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires
A short post using MALBA's wifi to report that inbetween a veggie lunch with Gabby at 4 and a veggie dinner planned for 11 (we're getting the hang of Argentina!) I'm sitting outside MALBA at their cafe enjoying coffee and dessert. It was here I saw, for the first time in my life, an original Frida Kahlo! Stealth photo of this below as well as the yummy food I'm about to eat.
Also the Cafe is playing Achtung Baby .... Mmmmm.
Also the Cafe is playing Achtung Baby .... Mmmmm.
GOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!
Seeing a football match in South America was an absolute must for me when we were planning this trip. Unfortunately, it seemed as if the gods were conspiring against me. The whole time Gabby and I were to be in Argentina there was not one home game for either the Boca Juniors or the River Plate (two local BA teams that have a huge rivalary, it would have been amazing to see them play *each other*, by all accounts those matches are simply insane). In any case, as Gabby and I sat in our "favourite" Argentine location - the bus station’s internet cubicles, I found a company - Tangol - that helped people acquire football match tickets and provided a guide as well as a trip to and from the match. There was *one* match the whole time were in BA; as Gabs´ sister Isabelle would say - "lucky me." The match was between a local team called the Vélez Sarsfield and a Chilean team called the Universad Católica. The two teams had met once before and Vélez had won 2-0. If the global score was in favour of the home team then they would proceed to the next round.
The trip to the stadium was a long and wandering one, picking up people all around the city. Gabby and I also had barely checked in and got showered before turning around and busing then running to the meeting point to catch the bus. 2 hours in traffic around the city we arrived at the Vélez stadium. We made our way in and our seats were located on the side, with a perfect view overlooking the opposing team’s goal as well as the "hooligan" or uber fan section, or the barra brava. Gabby and I were sitting between the guide and our new Scottish friend who both were giving us tips on football matches as well as fans. We were informed that unlike in the UK where football super fans tend to make noise in ebbs and flows, the barra brava would sing and beat drums constantly throughout the entire 90 minute match, and that they did. Our guide informed us they were singing songs in Spanish such as "come on Vélez, we will follow you anywhere." Gabby and I were both amused and intrigued by the number of riot police present around the stadium, including the referees’ police escorts on and off the pitch. As these things go in areas with more intense matches, the Chilean fans had their own section of the stadium. Though we all remarked that the handful of fans that had made the trek were nearly outnumbered by the amount of banners that they had brought. The riot police in their section were also probably at a ratio of 2-3 fans to every police officer. One last point on the riot police, I particularly enjoyed when the opposing team would restart the play from the sidelines that two police officers would come together to place their shields around the player as he passed the ball to one of his teammates.
Shortly into the game, Gabby and I ventured out to get food and, so we thought, beer. Turns out we were fools as who the heck in their right mind would serve alcohol at a football match; come on gringas! I settled on a palm sized burger and coke and vegan Gabby had to make her feast on a bag of nuts. As we made our way back into the stadium our new Scottish friend informed us we had missed the opposing team scoring the first goal. "Opps! Perhaps we’re good luck charms and need to stay in our seats," I speculated to Gabby. While the game was not sold out and it wasn’t as intense of a crowd had it been a Boca Jnrs. v. River Plate I did have a great time taking in the "hooligans" to our left as well as those season ticket holders around us who seemingly read all the pointers in the 2011 Time Out Guide for BA:
So, maybe not all of that happened, but pretty darn close I am sure. I particularly enjoyed the fans around us who were middle-aged women who seemingly knew every player and were amongst the most active in yelling at the refs. As well as a group of older men behind us who I came to believe were former barra brava. All in all, I was all smiles for our more subdued, but certainly entertaining game. Oh, yes, and our home team did eventually score, giving me the chance to yell: GOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL at Gabby, which I am sure she appreciated. There were no more goals the rest of the match, and so globally our team was set to progress to the next round. The match was without the overly commercialized nature of our sports games, say hockey, and ended almost as quickly as it started. To the point where Gabby exclaimed, "whoa, wait, it’s over now? But it is tied...." We hustled out of the stadium with our group only to have to wait 15-20 minutes as the police escorted the Chilean fans out first. Then we arrived home to change and go for dinner at more respectable BA hour - 10:30.
The trip to the stadium was a long and wandering one, picking up people all around the city. Gabby and I also had barely checked in and got showered before turning around and busing then running to the meeting point to catch the bus. 2 hours in traffic around the city we arrived at the Vélez stadium. We made our way in and our seats were located on the side, with a perfect view overlooking the opposing team’s goal as well as the "hooligan" or uber fan section, or the barra brava. Gabby and I were sitting between the guide and our new Scottish friend who both were giving us tips on football matches as well as fans. We were informed that unlike in the UK where football super fans tend to make noise in ebbs and flows, the barra brava would sing and beat drums constantly throughout the entire 90 minute match, and that they did. Our guide informed us they were singing songs in Spanish such as "come on Vélez, we will follow you anywhere." Gabby and I were both amused and intrigued by the number of riot police present around the stadium, including the referees’ police escorts on and off the pitch. As these things go in areas with more intense matches, the Chilean fans had their own section of the stadium. Though we all remarked that the handful of fans that had made the trek were nearly outnumbered by the amount of banners that they had brought. The riot police in their section were also probably at a ratio of 2-3 fans to every police officer. One last point on the riot police, I particularly enjoyed when the opposing team would restart the play from the sidelines that two police officers would come together to place their shields around the player as he passed the ball to one of his teammates.
Shortly into the game, Gabby and I ventured out to get food and, so we thought, beer. Turns out we were fools as who the heck in their right mind would serve alcohol at a football match; come on gringas! I settled on a palm sized burger and coke and vegan Gabby had to make her feast on a bag of nuts. As we made our way back into the stadium our new Scottish friend informed us we had missed the opposing team scoring the first goal. "Opps! Perhaps we’re good luck charms and need to stay in our seats," I speculated to Gabby. While the game was not sold out and it wasn’t as intense of a crowd had it been a Boca Jnrs. v. River Plate I did have a great time taking in the "hooligans" to our left as well as those season ticket holders around us who seemingly read all the pointers in the 2011 Time Out Guide for BA:
A) Wake up to the sound of non-stop football punditry on the radio, shower in team-branded soap and then pop on your retro 1972 top. B) Pick up a copy of the daily sporting paper Olé and head to a preordained bar for a Quilmes beer while deconstructing the team line'up. C) Get to the stadium early to soak up the pre-match atmosphere. This usually involves chanting derogatory songs at any unsuspecting person wearing the wrong shirt, buying a choripan (sausage sandwich) - possibly the most dangerous custom - and buying a fluffy, naff hat. D) After the barra barava have slipped past the police into the stadium, make your way through various friskings and walk up into the stand to the truly overwhelming sight of 30,000 or so bouncing and signing fans. E) Boo as the referee walks onto the pitch (it doesn’t matter that he hasn’t made a decision yet), and scream the worst word you know in Spanish as the opposition appear. And as your team walk out, throw the pile of ripped newspaper you were just handed into the air for a spectacular ticker-tape effect. F) Spend the next 90 minutes shouting yourself hoarse, enjoying what is usually a thrilling game and gaping at the unique spectacle that is the fans of Argentinean football.
So, maybe not all of that happened, but pretty darn close I am sure. I particularly enjoyed the fans around us who were middle-aged women who seemingly knew every player and were amongst the most active in yelling at the refs. As well as a group of older men behind us who I came to believe were former barra brava. All in all, I was all smiles for our more subdued, but certainly entertaining game. Oh, yes, and our home team did eventually score, giving me the chance to yell: GOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL at Gabby, which I am sure she appreciated. There were no more goals the rest of the match, and so globally our team was set to progress to the next round. The match was without the overly commercialized nature of our sports games, say hockey, and ended almost as quickly as it started. To the point where Gabby exclaimed, "whoa, wait, it’s over now? But it is tied...." We hustled out of the stadium with our group only to have to wait 15-20 minutes as the police escorted the Chilean fans out first. Then we arrived home to change and go for dinner at more respectable BA hour - 10:30.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wine, Bikes and Police Escorts
People come to Mendoza from all over the country and all over the world to make the trek up Aconcagua Mountain and to enjoy the great wineries. While Jo and I passed on the mountain hike this time, we were not about to miss the wine. Yesterday, Jo and I cycled the popular route between wineries stopping for tastings and tours, oh....and getting police escorts.
Jo and I started the day off with a tour and tasting at Argentina's modern Trapiche winery where we were able to learn about their production and history, walk through the beautifully restored and preserved original buildings and finally indulge our palettes. Jo and I both knew we would be limited to a couple purchases for the entire tour because of duty limits as well as the limited room in our bicycle baskets. But the fermented Malbec at Trapiche became the first purchase for both of us. We emerged from our first stop proud at having snagged this delicious port like wine unavailable in Canada, and me, extra proud with plans of impressing a certain special port loving person back home with my purchase.
After this first stop we decided it would be wise to find somewhere where we could pick up snacks to soak up the wine, and we stopped at a remote place called the beer garden which we found after riding off the main road. The beer garden was essentially a small collection of outdoor tables, umbrellas and a colorful tarp, a "back to nature" vibe and Bob Marley blaring from the sound system. Here we filled up on delicious vegan pizza and continued the tour. (My diet staple in Argentina has been tomato and olive pizza. I credit Jo for this invention to help my grumbling stomach at one of our many bus stops).
It was after navigating back to the main road from this stop that we picked up our escort for the first time. As we had decided to rent bikes ourselves and follow the basic map provided by the rental place, we knew we were bound to take a couple wrong turns. The missing street signs and construction blocked intersections which cyclists were expected to just ride over didn't necessarily help with our navigation. (There was some serious off-roading in some parts).
But then in came a policeman on a motorcycle, coming to the rescue of two lost girls. He accompanied us back to the main road and waved goodbye. Jo and I both though this was a little weird but in the end welcomed the help and brushed it off as simply another strange experience in Argentina.
So when we spotted our friend the second time we just waved, followed him while he drove slow enough for us to keep pace on our bikes and waved with a steady stream of "Gracias, Gracias" as he left us at out next location.
Now the third time we met up with this glasses wearing, motorcycle riding, police officer, I half expected him to pull out a photo followed by the line "have you seen this man?". Instead, he merely helped us to our final destination. A family run winery that produces only 40,000 reds annually and 25,000 whites, and the place where we splurged on our final purchase: "Grandmother's special recipe" which tastes a bit like a liqueur when you first sip it and then surprises you with an overwhelming taste of walnuts.
At this special little place Jo and I powered through a quick meal and a bottle of their sparkling cider before we cycled the 10k back to drop off our bikes, hopped on our bus that would take us back into the city and narrowly avoided missing our overnight bus to Buenos Aires.
As we sat down to get comfortable for our sixth and FINAL overnighter Jo said to me "no matter how much time we have, we've always got to push it eh?"
Jo and I started the day off with a tour and tasting at Argentina's modern Trapiche winery where we were able to learn about their production and history, walk through the beautifully restored and preserved original buildings and finally indulge our palettes. Jo and I both knew we would be limited to a couple purchases for the entire tour because of duty limits as well as the limited room in our bicycle baskets. But the fermented Malbec at Trapiche became the first purchase for both of us. We emerged from our first stop proud at having snagged this delicious port like wine unavailable in Canada, and me, extra proud with plans of impressing a certain special port loving person back home with my purchase.
After this first stop we decided it would be wise to find somewhere where we could pick up snacks to soak up the wine, and we stopped at a remote place called the beer garden which we found after riding off the main road. The beer garden was essentially a small collection of outdoor tables, umbrellas and a colorful tarp, a "back to nature" vibe and Bob Marley blaring from the sound system. Here we filled up on delicious vegan pizza and continued the tour. (My diet staple in Argentina has been tomato and olive pizza. I credit Jo for this invention to help my grumbling stomach at one of our many bus stops).
It was after navigating back to the main road from this stop that we picked up our escort for the first time. As we had decided to rent bikes ourselves and follow the basic map provided by the rental place, we knew we were bound to take a couple wrong turns. The missing street signs and construction blocked intersections which cyclists were expected to just ride over didn't necessarily help with our navigation. (There was some serious off-roading in some parts).
But then in came a policeman on a motorcycle, coming to the rescue of two lost girls. He accompanied us back to the main road and waved goodbye. Jo and I both though this was a little weird but in the end welcomed the help and brushed it off as simply another strange experience in Argentina.
So when we spotted our friend the second time we just waved, followed him while he drove slow enough for us to keep pace on our bikes and waved with a steady stream of "Gracias, Gracias" as he left us at out next location.
Now the third time we met up with this glasses wearing, motorcycle riding, police officer, I half expected him to pull out a photo followed by the line "have you seen this man?". Instead, he merely helped us to our final destination. A family run winery that produces only 40,000 reds annually and 25,000 whites, and the place where we splurged on our final purchase: "Grandmother's special recipe" which tastes a bit like a liqueur when you first sip it and then surprises you with an overwhelming taste of walnuts.
At this special little place Jo and I powered through a quick meal and a bottle of their sparkling cider before we cycled the 10k back to drop off our bikes, hopped on our bus that would take us back into the city and narrowly avoided missing our overnight bus to Buenos Aires.
As we sat down to get comfortable for our sixth and FINAL overnighter Jo said to me "no matter how much time we have, we've always got to push it eh?"
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