We've been back stateside for a month already. Where does the time go? Clearly, blogging got to be a bit tedious during the tail end of the trip. It's hard to sit still long enough to post entries and photos when you're having the time of your life, but I plan on getting around to recapping the last month (eventually). It's easier to send people to this site when they inevitably ask, "How was South America?" than answer with, "It was really South American."
Jess has returned to DC, and I am now a resident of Atlanta, Hotlanta, Antlanta, whatever you want to call it. It's been a whirlwind, and I don't feel quite at home yet. One Monday I was in Lima. On Tuesday I was in Houston. On Wednesday I was in Georgia. I wasn't used to putting toilet paper in the toilet proper before I was thrown into the crazy traffic and pollution of the ATL. Oh yeah, and I started med school at Emory. Culture shock on all levels... Slowly but surely, the longing to be back on the road is subsiding as I carve out a new life in a new city. I need the summer to be over stat because this smog and 100F weather is driving me bonkers.
over and out,
Ant
Monday, August 20, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
We're not in Kansas anymore
Happy 1 month and 4 days!!!! (Yes, it's been over a month since Ant and I left the comforts of home!!!)
So, Ant and I have crossed the border. No, not the Taco Bell border (shout out to Pooj and Kisa!), but the Argentine border to Bolivia, the country of superlatives. Bolivia is apparently the hemisphere's highest, poorest, coldest, warmest, windiest, steamiest, richest in natural resources, most indigenous, most isolated, most rugged country...(Thank you, Lonely Planet).
I have to admit, I've had a couple of rough days in the past month. Days where I've cursed everything South American: the graffiti on all the walls, the stray dogs that won't leave me alone, the constant smell of petrol and sewage, the way drivers NEVER stop at stop signs and constantly try to run me over when I attempt to cross the street (and no, I'm not jaywalking. I actually follow the crosswalk signs here!), the hosteling and the fact that I'm sleeping in beds that probably haven't been cleaned in decades (dude, just look at Ant's previous posts!!!), the quizzical looks I get every time I speak Spanish (I think I should just give up already), the hissing from men on the streets (no, that is NOT an acceptable way to get my attention and no, I will not go home with you!), but especially, the cuisine (I know, we're starting to sound like a broken record regarding this)...but my gah, give me some BBQ sauce and hot sauce, PLEASE!
Sorry, sometimes a girl just has to rant...=)
But those days have been far and few in between. I think the count is actually 2. Well, Ant says it's been probably 4 but whatever, who's counting?! RARGH. Life down here is so relaxed and carefree compared to the daily grind of work (HA HA to all you cube monkeys!!!) and I know I'll desperately want to pack up my bags and hit the road again when I return to reality in a month. But until then, like Ant always says, "C'est la vie!"
We've tried to be rather rugged these days...well, at least since Cordoba (my fave city in South America although Sucre gave it a run for its money) where we decided to climb to the summit of Cerro Pan de Azucar with our new best friend of the day, Dan (about 1250m, roughly 4100ft----and someone please explain to me why we are still on the English system of measurement!). Needless to say, I thought my heart and lungs were going to explode. At points, I was even tempted to trip the little 10-year-old Argentine kids who were running and jumping oh so fast up and down the trail, making me feel like an obese A-mur-ican who in twenty years will develop chronic heart problems and Type II diabetes. My response to those who think all Americans subsist on Big Macs and French fries (we've dropped the whole Freedom fries silliness, right?), the Frenchies across the ocean are climbing up the weight scale. Take that, red wine and baguettes!
After ziplining and parasailing through Salta, the next most obvious ''rugged'' adventure had to be traversing the mountainous terrain of Bolivia in a 4WD jeep over bumpy, dusty and unpaved roads with three smelly boys for 4days/3nights. DUH. I referred to us as the ''Lame Tour'' since we were the only group who refused half the time to get out of the jeep to look at and take pictures of the lagoons, flamingos, geysers and crazy rock structures (featured in many of Dali's paintings) for fear of frostbite. Don't judge us!!! =) We did manage to get out of the jeep twice to be ''rugged'' though---once to change a flat tire and another time to push the jeep out of the snow. Snow! In the summer. Wtf.
And because of Ben (the American), I've picked up grunting like a boy. Papa would be so proud.
Note to the wise: Do NOT attempt to drink 8 bottles of wine between 5 people when you're at 5000m above sea level. You might end up like Roddy (the Scotsman) at 3am in the morning, crawling on all fours as he searched in the dark for a ''torch'' (''flashlight'' for all you normal English speakers. Haha. I kid) to go vomit in the outhouse in -4 degrees Celsius. I'm sure it was a combination of mostly altitude sickness, with a side of too much boozin and sketchy Bolivian vegetation...but I was convinced not to touch anything that wasn't cooked for the remainder of the trip. Call me a spoiled American brat, but I wasn't going to be hugging any dirty toilets in the dark by myself! There are monsters and GHOSTS out there!
Like Iguazu Falls, I'm going to let the pictures do the talking for the awesomeness that was Salar de Uyuni.
Since my only impression of Bolivia thus far had been through a dirty backseat window of a jeep, I thought ALL of Bolivia consisted of only cacti, llamas, bowler hats (dude, the women here love those bowler hats! I actually can't bear to look at them at night because the sight of them conjures up images of hunched-back murderers in my head), mountains, dust, dust and dust. Imagine my pleasant surprise when, after saying goodbye to our guides, Jaime (who scared the beejesus out of us by falling asleep at the wheel twice in one morning) and Ely (who probably thinks we're the most immature 27, 26, 24, 23 and 22-year-olds EVER, esp after the constant kiss-y noises we kept making at them. And no, they definitely were NOT dating), I looked around me and saw PAVED roads and pubs (oh yes, PUBS which played awesomely bad pop songs!) in Uyuni.
I will never again diss the mountain roads from California to Lake Tahoe. NEVER AGAIN. Mark my words.
The only tourist attraction that we visisted in Uyuni was a Bostonian-owned pizza parlor, Minuteman Pizza. Between the 5 of us, we managed to finish off 3 large (think regular American-sized large) pizzas. We even took 2 huge chocolate chip cookies to-go as we ran to catch our bus to Sucre. I felt like such a brat ohhing and ahhing over food that was as far tasting from South American cuisine as possible. Cualquiera.
Oh the luxury, the decadence.
And since we've become millionaires after crossing the Argentine/Bolivian border (our gringo lunches cost about $3USD total), Ant and I decided to splurge and stayed in our OWN room with our very own private bathroom and TV in Sucre. Bolivia gave us cable TV but no toilet paper. You can watch movies in English with Spanish subtitles but TP definitely NOT included in rooms!!!!!
Also, the stray dogs on the streets that Ant and I always befriend have been replaced by stray pigs here.
Welcome to Bolivia.
I'm so rugged,
Jess
Next adventure, THE AMAZON!!!!! =)
So, Ant and I have crossed the border. No, not the Taco Bell border (shout out to Pooj and Kisa!), but the Argentine border to Bolivia, the country of superlatives. Bolivia is apparently the hemisphere's highest, poorest, coldest, warmest, windiest, steamiest, richest in natural resources, most indigenous, most isolated, most rugged country...(Thank you, Lonely Planet).
I have to admit, I've had a couple of rough days in the past month. Days where I've cursed everything South American: the graffiti on all the walls, the stray dogs that won't leave me alone, the constant smell of petrol and sewage, the way drivers NEVER stop at stop signs and constantly try to run me over when I attempt to cross the street (and no, I'm not jaywalking. I actually follow the crosswalk signs here!), the hosteling and the fact that I'm sleeping in beds that probably haven't been cleaned in decades (dude, just look at Ant's previous posts!!!), the quizzical looks I get every time I speak Spanish (I think I should just give up already), the hissing from men on the streets (no, that is NOT an acceptable way to get my attention and no, I will not go home with you!), but especially, the cuisine (I know, we're starting to sound like a broken record regarding this)...but my gah, give me some BBQ sauce and hot sauce, PLEASE!
Sorry, sometimes a girl just has to rant...=)
But those days have been far and few in between. I think the count is actually 2. Well, Ant says it's been probably 4 but whatever, who's counting?! RARGH. Life down here is so relaxed and carefree compared to the daily grind of work (HA HA to all you cube monkeys!!!) and I know I'll desperately want to pack up my bags and hit the road again when I return to reality in a month. But until then, like Ant always says, "C'est la vie!"
We've tried to be rather rugged these days...well, at least since Cordoba (my fave city in South America although Sucre gave it a run for its money) where we decided to climb to the summit of Cerro Pan de Azucar with our new best friend of the day, Dan (about 1250m, roughly 4100ft----and someone please explain to me why we are still on the English system of measurement!). Needless to say, I thought my heart and lungs were going to explode. At points, I was even tempted to trip the little 10-year-old Argentine kids who were running and jumping oh so fast up and down the trail, making me feel like an obese A-mur-ican who in twenty years will develop chronic heart problems and Type II diabetes. My response to those who think all Americans subsist on Big Macs and French fries (we've dropped the whole Freedom fries silliness, right?), the Frenchies across the ocean are climbing up the weight scale. Take that, red wine and baguettes!
After ziplining and parasailing through Salta, the next most obvious ''rugged'' adventure had to be traversing the mountainous terrain of Bolivia in a 4WD jeep over bumpy, dusty and unpaved roads with three smelly boys for 4days/3nights. DUH. I referred to us as the ''Lame Tour'' since we were the only group who refused half the time to get out of the jeep to look at and take pictures of the lagoons, flamingos, geysers and crazy rock structures (featured in many of Dali's paintings) for fear of frostbite. Don't judge us!!! =) We did manage to get out of the jeep twice to be ''rugged'' though---once to change a flat tire and another time to push the jeep out of the snow. Snow! In the summer. Wtf.
And because of Ben (the American), I've picked up grunting like a boy. Papa would be so proud.
Note to the wise: Do NOT attempt to drink 8 bottles of wine between 5 people when you're at 5000m above sea level. You might end up like Roddy (the Scotsman) at 3am in the morning, crawling on all fours as he searched in the dark for a ''torch'' (''flashlight'' for all you normal English speakers. Haha. I kid) to go vomit in the outhouse in -4 degrees Celsius. I'm sure it was a combination of mostly altitude sickness, with a side of too much boozin and sketchy Bolivian vegetation...but I was convinced not to touch anything that wasn't cooked for the remainder of the trip. Call me a spoiled American brat, but I wasn't going to be hugging any dirty toilets in the dark by myself! There are monsters and GHOSTS out there!
Like Iguazu Falls, I'm going to let the pictures do the talking for the awesomeness that was Salar de Uyuni.
Since my only impression of Bolivia thus far had been through a dirty backseat window of a jeep, I thought ALL of Bolivia consisted of only cacti, llamas, bowler hats (dude, the women here love those bowler hats! I actually can't bear to look at them at night because the sight of them conjures up images of hunched-back murderers in my head), mountains, dust, dust and dust. Imagine my pleasant surprise when, after saying goodbye to our guides, Jaime (who scared the beejesus out of us by falling asleep at the wheel twice in one morning) and Ely (who probably thinks we're the most immature 27, 26, 24, 23 and 22-year-olds EVER, esp after the constant kiss-y noises we kept making at them. And no, they definitely were NOT dating), I looked around me and saw PAVED roads and pubs (oh yes, PUBS which played awesomely bad pop songs!) in Uyuni.
I will never again diss the mountain roads from California to Lake Tahoe. NEVER AGAIN. Mark my words.
The only tourist attraction that we visisted in Uyuni was a Bostonian-owned pizza parlor, Minuteman Pizza. Between the 5 of us, we managed to finish off 3 large (think regular American-sized large) pizzas. We even took 2 huge chocolate chip cookies to-go as we ran to catch our bus to Sucre. I felt like such a brat ohhing and ahhing over food that was as far tasting from South American cuisine as possible. Cualquiera.
Oh the luxury, the decadence.
And since we've become millionaires after crossing the Argentine/Bolivian border (our gringo lunches cost about $3USD total), Ant and I decided to splurge and stayed in our OWN room with our very own private bathroom and TV in Sucre. Bolivia gave us cable TV but no toilet paper. You can watch movies in English with Spanish subtitles but TP definitely NOT included in rooms!!!!!
Also, the stray dogs on the streets that Ant and I always befriend have been replaced by stray pigs here.
Welcome to Bolivia.
I'm so rugged,
Jess
Next adventure, THE AMAZON!!!!! =)
Pour some SALTA on me
Salta. Salta. Salta.
After our oh-so-long stay in Tucuman, we were northward bound still. We didn't do an overnight bus (whew), but did manage to board a "working class" bus rather than the nicer, tourist-oriented ones we were accustomed to. Body odor knows no cultural or linguistic barrier and we got smacked hard in the face with it. Thank the Lord it was a mere 4 hr ride.
Another case in which Lonely Planet lies: Hostel Salta located at Balcarce 980, "smack in the middle of Salta's viva zona, is definitely the party animal's choice." Too bad it no longer exists!!! We managed to find 2 dorm beds at a different hostel and lounging about, guess who we run into? VICTOR THE FRENCHIE HIMSELF! It really shouldn't be that surprising seeing as how we all have Lonely Planets but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. And another example of how and why the gringo trail in SA is so small.
Because we did zilch in Tucuman, Jess and I vowed to do Salta right. Aside from walking around the city and soaking in its colonial, laidback vibe, we did not one, but two, excursions. Yup. We're soooo rugged.
Excursion 1: zip-lining down 9 cables on South America's largest canopy. The views were amazing, but unfortunately, I have no visuals since we didn't want to risk bringing our camera with us. You can check out Salta Rafting's website though. I was very proud of Jess as she is afraid of heights and um, we were zip-lining between mountains across a huge river. Besides that little fact, we'd only gotten 2 hours of sleep the night before and I'm pretty sure Jess was slightly intoxicated still after the bumpy-as-hell 2 hour jeep ride to the mountain base. Also, we didn't get the memo that we'd have to trek to the start of the zip line. The guide had to hold Jess' hand when she started to hyperventilate. Yup. Proud of the sis for managing to stay alive.
Excursion 2: paragliding off Cerro San Bernado over the city of Salta. Silly me expected some sensation of free-fall, but clearly, there isn't any when you have a huge parachute over your head. We both did tandem glides, Jess' lasting 30 minutes longer than mine due to better weather conditions. I would've enjoyed it more if I was wearing adequate clothing, but because our laundry wasn't done yet, I jumped off a mountain, in winter, in just leggings and a sweater. Whoops. Aside from the hypothermia, I enjoyed my 1st paragliding experience. Now I just have to bungee jump and y'know, skydive out of an airplane...
Salta is a wonderful city, near the Bolivian border, with a romantic feel. It has a thriving nightlife, which we only indulged in once (we're learning to be "adults"...), and is really just an all-around gorgeous place. It rightfully has a spot on the backpacking trail in Argentina. To top it all off though, our stay coincided with celebrations honoring the anniversary of the death of General Martin Miguel de Guemes, leader of the Gaucho Army which defended the Northwest territories of Argentina during the war of Independence. He was fatally wounded in Salta, his hometown, on the night of 16 June, 186 years ago. There were outdoor parties with folk music, food and most awesomely, gauchos in full garb on horses everywhere! Gauchos, Argentine cowboys, possess the same mythical stature and romanticism as our own frontier cowboys of the Wild Wild West. And there were wee lil gaucho/a(s) too, which made me miss my own bebes. The parade on Sunday morning supposedly had 15,000 horses, and because the horses didn't have bags beneath their behinds, there was a whole lotta horse poo on the streets. Aside from the overwhelming stench, the parade was breathtaking in its size and historical significance.
We only meant to spend 2 nights in Salta, but there's something about the city that gets backpackers stuck in its quagmire. One friend couldn't leave when planned because the laundromat held his clothes hostage. Another duo tried to leave but their bus just never showed up. But eventually, after 3 nights, Jess and I said "chau chau" to Salta and left for the Bolivian border with an American, a Scotsman, and the same ol' Frenchman in tow.
¡Adios Argentina y viva Bolivia!
besos,
Antoinette
After our oh-so-long stay in Tucuman, we were northward bound still. We didn't do an overnight bus (whew), but did manage to board a "working class" bus rather than the nicer, tourist-oriented ones we were accustomed to. Body odor knows no cultural or linguistic barrier and we got smacked hard in the face with it. Thank the Lord it was a mere 4 hr ride.
Another case in which Lonely Planet lies: Hostel Salta located at Balcarce 980, "smack in the middle of Salta's viva zona, is definitely the party animal's choice." Too bad it no longer exists!!! We managed to find 2 dorm beds at a different hostel and lounging about, guess who we run into? VICTOR THE FRENCHIE HIMSELF! It really shouldn't be that surprising seeing as how we all have Lonely Planets but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. And another example of how and why the gringo trail in SA is so small.
Because we did zilch in Tucuman, Jess and I vowed to do Salta right. Aside from walking around the city and soaking in its colonial, laidback vibe, we did not one, but two, excursions. Yup. We're soooo rugged.
Excursion 1: zip-lining down 9 cables on South America's largest canopy. The views were amazing, but unfortunately, I have no visuals since we didn't want to risk bringing our camera with us. You can check out Salta Rafting's website though. I was very proud of Jess as she is afraid of heights and um, we were zip-lining between mountains across a huge river. Besides that little fact, we'd only gotten 2 hours of sleep the night before and I'm pretty sure Jess was slightly intoxicated still after the bumpy-as-hell 2 hour jeep ride to the mountain base. Also, we didn't get the memo that we'd have to trek to the start of the zip line. The guide had to hold Jess' hand when she started to hyperventilate. Yup. Proud of the sis for managing to stay alive.
Excursion 2: paragliding off Cerro San Bernado over the city of Salta. Silly me expected some sensation of free-fall, but clearly, there isn't any when you have a huge parachute over your head. We both did tandem glides, Jess' lasting 30 minutes longer than mine due to better weather conditions. I would've enjoyed it more if I was wearing adequate clothing, but because our laundry wasn't done yet, I jumped off a mountain, in winter, in just leggings and a sweater. Whoops. Aside from the hypothermia, I enjoyed my 1st paragliding experience. Now I just have to bungee jump and y'know, skydive out of an airplane...
Salta is a wonderful city, near the Bolivian border, with a romantic feel. It has a thriving nightlife, which we only indulged in once (we're learning to be "adults"...), and is really just an all-around gorgeous place. It rightfully has a spot on the backpacking trail in Argentina. To top it all off though, our stay coincided with celebrations honoring the anniversary of the death of General Martin Miguel de Guemes, leader of the Gaucho Army which defended the Northwest territories of Argentina during the war of Independence. He was fatally wounded in Salta, his hometown, on the night of 16 June, 186 years ago. There were outdoor parties with folk music, food and most awesomely, gauchos in full garb on horses everywhere! Gauchos, Argentine cowboys, possess the same mythical stature and romanticism as our own frontier cowboys of the Wild Wild West. And there were wee lil gaucho/a(s) too, which made me miss my own bebes. The parade on Sunday morning supposedly had 15,000 horses, and because the horses didn't have bags beneath their behinds, there was a whole lotta horse poo on the streets. Aside from the overwhelming stench, the parade was breathtaking in its size and historical significance.
We only meant to spend 2 nights in Salta, but there's something about the city that gets backpackers stuck in its quagmire. One friend couldn't leave when planned because the laundromat held his clothes hostage. Another duo tried to leave but their bus just never showed up. But eventually, after 3 nights, Jess and I said "chau chau" to Salta and left for the Bolivian border with an American, a Scotsman, and the same ol' Frenchman in tow.
¡Adios Argentina y viva Bolivia!
besos,
Antoinette
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Untitled
So we're a tad behind in blogging. It's hard keeping this thing up so this will be a long-ish entry. Now, where were we?
Even though I got eaten alive by killer bugs in Cordoba, it's still Jess' new fave city. But to her credit, the city has a distinct vibe as it's a huge university town (and the 3rd largest city in Argentina). Sure, there was not a single Chicken Shack, 24 hour Burger King or Joy Yee's in sight, but it could still give Evanston a run for its money...Yeah, we did the tourist bit, visiting churches (duh), the 2nd oldest university on the continent, the Jesuit Block and even climbed up a mountain on a day trip to Cosquin. But really, we were just chilling like Bob Dylan in Cordoba. We met a great group in our hostel and managed to wake up after noon-- four days in a row. And we got to meet up with Kirsti again one last time before she left for London! The gringo trail is so small...
From Cordoba, we took yet another overnight bus to Mendoza, the Napa Valley of Argentina. (If I understood one of our tour guides right, which could easily have not been the case, 70% of Argentina's wine is produced in Mendoza). Oh. Yeah. I am so over buses. Hate to be a broken record, but I'm getting sores! It ain't pretty. We weren't traveling solo though as we'd picked up a Frenchie in Cordoba: Victor aka Hickey Vicky. Backpacking is a strange culture. You tend to trust fellow backpackers and pick up new travel partners quickly and easily.
We arrive. We shower. We rest and then off to explore Mendoza! Lesson learned: don't book a hostel outside the city center. I just picked a recommended hostel out of my Footprints book but forgot to check where it was actually located. The city is super cute but definitely becoming a tourist trap as it's a new stop on the gringo trail. I bet it's alive and happenin during the summer, but since it is the winter and off-season and all, it was relatively slow and quiet (esp on a Monday and Tuesday). We went sharking for friends, visiting at least 6 other hostels in the city, but alas, it got all free willy in the end with our loose fins. But we did get in some competitive games of 2x2 multiplication and country capitals and logic games and basic algebra problems... at the bar... in public... Perhaps those are the real reasons why no new friends were made in Mendoza...
Even at the apex of my bug-induced misery, I did get in some wine-tasting fun. Day 1, we did a guided tour of 2 bodegas (and visited a church too, but of course) and tasted a red and a white at each place. We were good and actually poured out the wine after each sip rather than drinking the full glass. I admit it did hurt to throw away alcohol, but I am an "adult" now. The next night, the three of us did our own cheese and wine-tasting at an upscale restaurant in town, Azafran. We're so fancy. Ten reds later, I know that I hate merlot and love cabernet sauvignon and a blend wine of malbec, cabernet sauvignon and tempranillo. Jess hates wine, esp red wines, and so every wine received a score of less than 4 (out of 10). Yeah, we were dorks and scored each glass. Big deal!
Our last day in Mendoza was spent hunting down medical care (see entry below), grabbing lunch and wasting the rainy, overcast day away in a cafe. We journaled; we read; we sudoku'ed-- all for the cost of one cafe con leche (well, a hot chocolate for Jess). I'll miss days like those soon enough. Also, Jess and I have decided that we're collecting shoes as souvenirs in South America and so I splurged on a pair of purple and yellow Nikes in Mendoza. Who needs postcards and shot glasses and local artesanal goods?
Then, it was time to say goodbye to Victor and to Mendoza. He was heading straight to Salta while we were making a pitstop in Tucuman for a few nights and maybe Tafi del Valle, which supposedly had amazing vistas. However, travel plans quickly change when you're on the road.
We had the worst bus ride (to date) from Mendoza to Tucuman. We thought it'd be smart to sit in the first row on the second floor of the double decker. But in hindsight, if there's ever an accident, we would've been the first to go! Hm, interesting how the bus companies like putting gringos in those seats. I also spent the entire night scratching my arms and hands, even with the socks on, and managed to get calamine lotion all over my clothes and sheet. I was not a happy camper when we rolled into town and was even unhappier to see it rainy and all around icky in Tucuman. After checking into a pretty dead hostel, we went hunting for food, where I found pieces of glass in my lunch. Delicioso.
We had a bit of a scare as some Americans had told us in the bus terminal bathroom (clearly, a logical water cooler location to strike up conversations with strangers, traveling is weird) that visas were required as of April 1 to enter Bolivia. Pre-departure, the US State Dept website had made no mention of it and now here we were, one week prior to crossing the border, and freaking out about traveling to Santiago or Buenos Aires to get to a Bolivian consulate. One good thing outta Tucuman was the fastest internet connection and newest computer we've used since we've been in South America, let alone at a hostel, for free. I readily admit that I'm an internet junkie so I had no qualms using the visa scare as pretense to waste hours on the good ol world wide web. After a quick email response from the Bolivian consulate in the US though, we were saved. No visas needed. For now. Evo Morales did decree on Jan 1 of this year to impose stricter requirements on Americans to stick it to us for making Bolivians jump through hoops to get into the US.
Perhaps it was unfair of us to write off Tucuman completely, but we just weren't feeling it. Since it was nasty out, we didn't even walk around town and instead, jumped ship for Salta after one night. Over and out, Tucuman!
the sister that doesn't use "y'all" multiple times in one sentence,
Antoinette
p.s. We caved and had Mexican food. In Mendoza. In Argentina. I have been duly unimpressed by South American fare so when that guacamole hit my mouth, it was heavenly. I will never again take food for granted. I love it. I live for it. So it's painful when the only spices known and used in Argentina is salt, salt and more salt. For the love of god!
Even though I got eaten alive by killer bugs in Cordoba, it's still Jess' new fave city. But to her credit, the city has a distinct vibe as it's a huge university town (and the 3rd largest city in Argentina). Sure, there was not a single Chicken Shack, 24 hour Burger King or Joy Yee's in sight, but it could still give Evanston a run for its money...Yeah, we did the tourist bit, visiting churches (duh), the 2nd oldest university on the continent, the Jesuit Block and even climbed up a mountain on a day trip to Cosquin. But really, we were just chilling like Bob Dylan in Cordoba. We met a great group in our hostel and managed to wake up after noon-- four days in a row. And we got to meet up with Kirsti again one last time before she left for London! The gringo trail is so small...
From Cordoba, we took yet another overnight bus to Mendoza, the Napa Valley of Argentina. (If I understood one of our tour guides right, which could easily have not been the case, 70% of Argentina's wine is produced in Mendoza). Oh. Yeah. I am so over buses. Hate to be a broken record, but I'm getting sores! It ain't pretty. We weren't traveling solo though as we'd picked up a Frenchie in Cordoba: Victor aka Hickey Vicky. Backpacking is a strange culture. You tend to trust fellow backpackers and pick up new travel partners quickly and easily.
We arrive. We shower. We rest and then off to explore Mendoza! Lesson learned: don't book a hostel outside the city center. I just picked a recommended hostel out of my Footprints book but forgot to check where it was actually located. The city is super cute but definitely becoming a tourist trap as it's a new stop on the gringo trail. I bet it's alive and happenin during the summer, but since it is the winter and off-season and all, it was relatively slow and quiet (esp on a Monday and Tuesday). We went sharking for friends, visiting at least 6 other hostels in the city, but alas, it got all free willy in the end with our loose fins. But we did get in some competitive games of 2x2 multiplication and country capitals and logic games and basic algebra problems... at the bar... in public... Perhaps those are the real reasons why no new friends were made in Mendoza...
Even at the apex of my bug-induced misery, I did get in some wine-tasting fun. Day 1, we did a guided tour of 2 bodegas (and visited a church too, but of course) and tasted a red and a white at each place. We were good and actually poured out the wine after each sip rather than drinking the full glass. I admit it did hurt to throw away alcohol, but I am an "adult" now. The next night, the three of us did our own cheese and wine-tasting at an upscale restaurant in town, Azafran. We're so fancy. Ten reds later, I know that I hate merlot and love cabernet sauvignon and a blend wine of malbec, cabernet sauvignon and tempranillo. Jess hates wine, esp red wines, and so every wine received a score of less than 4 (out of 10). Yeah, we were dorks and scored each glass. Big deal!
Our last day in Mendoza was spent hunting down medical care (see entry below), grabbing lunch and wasting the rainy, overcast day away in a cafe. We journaled; we read; we sudoku'ed-- all for the cost of one cafe con leche (well, a hot chocolate for Jess). I'll miss days like those soon enough. Also, Jess and I have decided that we're collecting shoes as souvenirs in South America and so I splurged on a pair of purple and yellow Nikes in Mendoza. Who needs postcards and shot glasses and local artesanal goods?
Then, it was time to say goodbye to Victor and to Mendoza. He was heading straight to Salta while we were making a pitstop in Tucuman for a few nights and maybe Tafi del Valle, which supposedly had amazing vistas. However, travel plans quickly change when you're on the road.
We had the worst bus ride (to date) from Mendoza to Tucuman. We thought it'd be smart to sit in the first row on the second floor of the double decker. But in hindsight, if there's ever an accident, we would've been the first to go! Hm, interesting how the bus companies like putting gringos in those seats. I also spent the entire night scratching my arms and hands, even with the socks on, and managed to get calamine lotion all over my clothes and sheet. I was not a happy camper when we rolled into town and was even unhappier to see it rainy and all around icky in Tucuman. After checking into a pretty dead hostel, we went hunting for food, where I found pieces of glass in my lunch. Delicioso.
We had a bit of a scare as some Americans had told us in the bus terminal bathroom (clearly, a logical water cooler location to strike up conversations with strangers, traveling is weird) that visas were required as of April 1 to enter Bolivia. Pre-departure, the US State Dept website had made no mention of it and now here we were, one week prior to crossing the border, and freaking out about traveling to Santiago or Buenos Aires to get to a Bolivian consulate. One good thing outta Tucuman was the fastest internet connection and newest computer we've used since we've been in South America, let alone at a hostel, for free. I readily admit that I'm an internet junkie so I had no qualms using the visa scare as pretense to waste hours on the good ol world wide web. After a quick email response from the Bolivian consulate in the US though, we were saved. No visas needed. For now. Evo Morales did decree on Jan 1 of this year to impose stricter requirements on Americans to stick it to us for making Bolivians jump through hoops to get into the US.
Perhaps it was unfair of us to write off Tucuman completely, but we just weren't feeling it. Since it was nasty out, we didn't even walk around town and instead, jumped ship for Salta after one night. Over and out, Tucuman!
the sister that doesn't use "y'all" multiple times in one sentence,
Antoinette
p.s. We caved and had Mexican food. In Mendoza. In Argentina. I have been duly unimpressed by South American fare so when that guacamole hit my mouth, it was heavenly. I will never again take food for granted. I love it. I live for it. So it's painful when the only spices known and used in Argentina is salt, salt and more salt. For the love of god!
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Graduation Hall at la Universidad Nacional de Cordoba (illegal photo op)
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Inscription on bottom left --
distance of Texas from Cordoba: not far enough |
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| bodegas in mendoza |
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| mendoza |
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| american, american, frenchie |
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| tucuman |
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Don't look at me
(think Damian from Mean Girls while singing Xtina)
Traveling is always an adventure. Finding your next meal. Aimlessly wandering through towns. Facing communication barriers. Getting medical attention was one of the best ones to date though.
I really thought I could tough out the bug bites with just steroid cream and calamine lotion. But by day 5, I looked like a monster. I'm not kidding. Jess was such a trooper because she actually had to look at my face. I almost cried every time I went to the bathroom and saw my reflection in the mirror. So after my mom (and Jinna) freaked me out, I figured it was time to find something that would alleviate the swelling, pain, discomfort and all-around misery I was in. Oh yeah, and for Jess to finally start looking me in the eye again! I was also worried about scarring...
Stop 1: I went to a pharmacy to see if they'd give me steroids over the counter. I mean, Argentina is great and all but it's still not First World. I figured I'd give it a shot... Too bad the female pharmacist took one look at my face, literally recoiled in disgust, and offered me a mere bottle of calamine lotion instead. "No gracias."
Stop 2: We passed a medical clinic but they wouldn't see us. Communication was an issue but I think it was because we'd walked into a free clinic serving Argentine residents only.
Stop 3: I made Jess walk into the tourist office to see where I could go because I couldn't stand looking strangers in the eye. Those bugs turned me into a pariah.
Stop 4: ER of a free general hospital which would see foreigners. We sat on a bench for about an hour, journaling to while away the time, until one girl fainted next to me. She was wheeled away, but we moved to the floor to make room for others. Then, a boy fainted right next to Jess. At that point, she jumped up, grabbed her bag, and ran out of the ER. So no medical attention for Ant.
Stop 5: The guy working reception at our hostel called his step-mom, a doctor, and gave me the address of the best hospital in Mendoza. So the following morning, Jess and I cabbed it to the 'burbs where I got a prompt shot of 10ml cortisone to my right bum cheek and a prescription for anti-parasite cream. All for free. Non-First-World or not, I was left with a beautiful impression of the Argentine healthcare system.
After that wonderful shot, the swelling and itching subsided tremendously. I still use the steroid cream all over my face and body and I may have some scars. At least I've been de-freaked and Jess will look at me without flinching and averting her eyes. What else are sisters for?
I am beautiful / No matter what they say / Words can't bring me down
But hell, bugs sure did for awhile.
besos,
Ant "infection incubator" Nguyen
Traveling is always an adventure. Finding your next meal. Aimlessly wandering through towns. Facing communication barriers. Getting medical attention was one of the best ones to date though.
I really thought I could tough out the bug bites with just steroid cream and calamine lotion. But by day 5, I looked like a monster. I'm not kidding. Jess was such a trooper because she actually had to look at my face. I almost cried every time I went to the bathroom and saw my reflection in the mirror. So after my mom (and Jinna) freaked me out, I figured it was time to find something that would alleviate the swelling, pain, discomfort and all-around misery I was in. Oh yeah, and for Jess to finally start looking me in the eye again! I was also worried about scarring...
Stop 1: I went to a pharmacy to see if they'd give me steroids over the counter. I mean, Argentina is great and all but it's still not First World. I figured I'd give it a shot... Too bad the female pharmacist took one look at my face, literally recoiled in disgust, and offered me a mere bottle of calamine lotion instead. "No gracias."
Stop 2: We passed a medical clinic but they wouldn't see us. Communication was an issue but I think it was because we'd walked into a free clinic serving Argentine residents only.
Stop 3: I made Jess walk into the tourist office to see where I could go because I couldn't stand looking strangers in the eye. Those bugs turned me into a pariah.
Stop 4: ER of a free general hospital which would see foreigners. We sat on a bench for about an hour, journaling to while away the time, until one girl fainted next to me. She was wheeled away, but we moved to the floor to make room for others. Then, a boy fainted right next to Jess. At that point, she jumped up, grabbed her bag, and ran out of the ER. So no medical attention for Ant.
Stop 5: The guy working reception at our hostel called his step-mom, a doctor, and gave me the address of the best hospital in Mendoza. So the following morning, Jess and I cabbed it to the 'burbs where I got a prompt shot of 10ml cortisone to my right bum cheek and a prescription for anti-parasite cream. All for free. Non-First-World or not, I was left with a beautiful impression of the Argentine healthcare system.
After that wonderful shot, the swelling and itching subsided tremendously. I still use the steroid cream all over my face and body and I may have some scars. At least I've been de-freaked and Jess will look at me without flinching and averting her eyes. What else are sisters for?
I am beautiful / No matter what they say / Words can't bring me down
But hell, bugs sure did for awhile.
besos,
Ant "infection incubator" Nguyen
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| Day 3: I'm not happy |
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| Day 5 |
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| Wearing socks so as to prevent night-time face scratching |
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| 5 stops and a shot in the ass later |
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Westward bound
We left Kirsti the Kiwi in Iguazu where she made her way to Tucuman with Nick the Scot. So, for the first time on the trip, Jess and I were on our own. Just the two of us. (cue that Will Smith song)
Quite tired and hungover, we overnight-ed it to Santa Fe, the capital of Santa Fe state. Cute little town where we spent a quiet afternoon, walking around yet more plazas and pedestrian avenues. It was also the first city we've been in that actually siesta'ed. Everything just effing shut down at 1pm and Jess missed out on buying a sweet pair of gold flats. Anyhow, while eating a well-rounded lunch of Pringles and oranges, two 12 year old schoolboys followed us around, practicing their English. "Where are you from? Why are you here? How old are you?" They made Jess nervous so I asked them, "How old do you think we are?" The bigger boy looked me in the eye and said, "35." THE GALL! I mean, I wasn't looking my best but c'mon....Clearly, I was done with this town.
From Santa Fe, we took a 2.5hr bus to Rosario, the 3rd largest city in Argentina, which supposedly had a nightlife that rivaled Buenos Aires. Jess and I quickly learned that Lonely Planet sometimes LIES! We were not impressed with the city and never quite warmed up to all it supposedly had to offer. Granted, we were there on a Monday and Tuesday and we were staying at hippie central, La Casona del Don Jaime. The impression left by each city we visit is often dependent on the people we meet, both locals and fellow backpackers. As Jess so aptly described, "we're not into hippies whose God is Bob Marley and to whom showering has become a past time." Don Jaime was a Rastafarian haven so perhaps that had something to do with Rosario's bad aftertaste. That or the fact that we were in a co-ed dorm room. Sure, we added a few notes to the cacophony of snores but the stench, that was all male. Boys smell!
Highlights from Rosario:
- We got a lot of walking in. Jess and I don't always talk to each other on big walking days. That's how I know she listens to Disney songs on her ipod. She breaks out into song mid-stride!
- MIDDLE EASTERN FOOD x 2 nights = happy happy Nguyen sisters. Jess literally licked the hummus plate clean.
- We have got the Argentina bus system down. It's a tad weird system where private companies have offices lined up in the terminal. You look to see if the city you want to go to is listed in sticker letters on their window. Then, you inquire about schedules and costs. While the buses are quite clean and professional (and usually prompt) in Argentina, I may never ride a long-distance bus again. Jess and I are like thisclose with bus terminals these days.
- Dogs like us. Well, maybe not me, but Jess at least. We manage to pick up at least one canine friend in each city.
- Rosario has dirty rivers and dirty beaches a la Galveston, Texas. A little piece of home in South America.
besos,
Ant "the unfunny sister apparently" Nguyen
Quite tired and hungover, we overnight-ed it to Santa Fe, the capital of Santa Fe state. Cute little town where we spent a quiet afternoon, walking around yet more plazas and pedestrian avenues. It was also the first city we've been in that actually siesta'ed. Everything just effing shut down at 1pm and Jess missed out on buying a sweet pair of gold flats. Anyhow, while eating a well-rounded lunch of Pringles and oranges, two 12 year old schoolboys followed us around, practicing their English. "Where are you from? Why are you here? How old are you?" They made Jess nervous so I asked them, "How old do you think we are?" The bigger boy looked me in the eye and said, "35." THE GALL! I mean, I wasn't looking my best but c'mon....Clearly, I was done with this town.
From Santa Fe, we took a 2.5hr bus to Rosario, the 3rd largest city in Argentina, which supposedly had a nightlife that rivaled Buenos Aires. Jess and I quickly learned that Lonely Planet sometimes LIES! We were not impressed with the city and never quite warmed up to all it supposedly had to offer. Granted, we were there on a Monday and Tuesday and we were staying at hippie central, La Casona del Don Jaime. The impression left by each city we visit is often dependent on the people we meet, both locals and fellow backpackers. As Jess so aptly described, "we're not into hippies whose God is Bob Marley and to whom showering has become a past time." Don Jaime was a Rastafarian haven so perhaps that had something to do with Rosario's bad aftertaste. That or the fact that we were in a co-ed dorm room. Sure, we added a few notes to the cacophony of snores but the stench, that was all male. Boys smell!
Highlights from Rosario:
- We got a lot of walking in. Jess and I don't always talk to each other on big walking days. That's how I know she listens to Disney songs on her ipod. She breaks out into song mid-stride!
- MIDDLE EASTERN FOOD x 2 nights = happy happy Nguyen sisters. Jess literally licked the hummus plate clean.
- We have got the Argentina bus system down. It's a tad weird system where private companies have offices lined up in the terminal. You look to see if the city you want to go to is listed in sticker letters on their window. Then, you inquire about schedules and costs. While the buses are quite clean and professional (and usually prompt) in Argentina, I may never ride a long-distance bus again. Jess and I are like thisclose with bus terminals these days.
- Dogs like us. Well, maybe not me, but Jess at least. We manage to pick up at least one canine friend in each city.
- Rosario has dirty rivers and dirty beaches a la Galveston, Texas. A little piece of home in South America.
besos,
Ant "the unfunny sister apparently" Nguyen
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| Translation: Rosario, the best city to live. (LIES!) |
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| Jess in front of the Monument to the Flag. Argentines are VERY proud of their history, their country, and their claim to the Falkland Islands. But shh, they're called the Malvinas here. |
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| Che Guevara's birthplace. It now houses an insurance company. Go figure. |
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| Sudoku on the beach |
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Ant v. Jess
Ant has cafe con leche for breakfast. Jess has chocolate con leche.
Ant buys sudoku and kakuro books. Jess buys coloring books and colored pencils w/sharpener because she can't find the 96 count Crayola crayon set.
Ant wears a watch. Jess wears a bracelet with her name spelled out in beads (in case she gets lost).
Ant listens to Mika and Kanye West on her ipod. Jess listens to the soundtrack from Toy Story II and Beauty and the Beast (and Billy Gilman!).
Ant got 130+ bug bites because she slept on the bottom bunk. Jess got about 5 because she shook her bugs to the bunk below her (i.e. ANT's BUNK).
Who would you deem the winner in this case?
Ant buys sudoku and kakuro books. Jess buys coloring books and colored pencils w/sharpener because she can't find the 96 count Crayola crayon set.
Ant wears a watch. Jess wears a bracelet with her name spelled out in beads (in case she gets lost).
Ant listens to Mika and Kanye West on her ipod. Jess listens to the soundtrack from Toy Story II and Beauty and the Beast (and Billy Gilman!).
Ant got 130+ bug bites because she slept on the bottom bunk. Jess got about 5 because she shook her bugs to the bunk below her (i.e. ANT's BUNK).
Who would you deem the winner in this case?
Friday, June 8, 2007
Good night, sleep tight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.
Oh wait. THEY DO!
I must have some super sweet blood because I was the most victimized one in my hostel dorm of six. I woke up with hives on my body and assumed that I'd had an allergic reaction (which wouldn't have been that uncommon). Upon further inspection and after squashing to death a few creepy crawlers, I knew that wasn't the case. I slept in my own sheets and only had my face and shoulder directly on the bed but boy, did the mother-effers feast well. Last count there were more than 130 bites. I am a sight for sore eyes. Jess can't even stand looking at me.
I guess it's a good backpacking story... but I may not sleep well until my return at the end of July.
newly insomniac,
Ant
p.s. Mom & Dad, don't worry! I was tempted not to post the pictures but couldn't resist. Just be glad it happened to me and not Jess. She would've cried (at least 10 times) but I'm fine. Just really itchy.
Oh wait. THEY DO!
I must have some super sweet blood because I was the most victimized one in my hostel dorm of six. I woke up with hives on my body and assumed that I'd had an allergic reaction (which wouldn't have been that uncommon). Upon further inspection and after squashing to death a few creepy crawlers, I knew that wasn't the case. I slept in my own sheets and only had my face and shoulder directly on the bed but boy, did the mother-effers feast well. Last count there were more than 130 bites. I am a sight for sore eyes. Jess can't even stand looking at me.
I guess it's a good backpacking story... but I may not sleep well until my return at the end of July.
newly insomniac,
Ant
p.s. Mom & Dad, don't worry! I was tempted not to post the pictures but couldn't resist. Just be glad it happened to me and not Jess. She would've cried (at least 10 times) but I'm fine. Just really itchy.
DAY 1
DAY 2
Monday, June 4, 2007
L´Chaim
From Colonia, Uruguay, we booked it back to Buenos Aires on a ferry, dallied around town (and inhaled about 10 tons of pollution, smog, burrning rubber and cigarette smoke) and then off to Puerto Iguazu on a 15 hour bus ride. For a mere 5 pesos more or so, you can upgrade to cama from semi-cama, which means your seat leans almost all the way back. Good thing I´m a mere tall 5´2" and could still sleep in fetal position. Jess doesn´t sleep as well on the bus rides, no matter how long, but I think it´s because she´s not narcoleptic like me.
Day 1 in Iguazu: The electricity was out at the hostel but the bar was up and running. So, we drank. Jess and Kirsti may even have jumped into the pool, in the middle of winter mind you, in their clothes. I, being the more sensible sister, continued to drink indoors and stayed dry.
Day 2 in Iguazu: We drove to the Falls, the widest in the world. It was a spectacular sight and rather than wax poetic in words, I´ll let the pictures do the talking below. One regret though, instead of taking a boat out to the Falls like the sensible Kirsti, the rest of our little backpacking family for the day decided to pass. So, we drank. Do you see a trend here? 1.5 liters of Quilmes beer later, we returned back to the hostel to nap, shower, sleep off the afternoon boozing only to wake up and drink 1 (or 5) too many free capirinhas at the hostel bar. Jess even managed to set up a game of capirinha pong... Bad idea. But it was our last night with Nick the Scotsman and Kirsti the Kiwi and so, we drank.
Day 3 in Iguazu: Hungover and tired, we managed to waste the day away. Our main tasks included and were essentially limited to: booking a bus ticket outta Iguazu, eating lunch, and trying to get un-hungover. Then back on the bus for another 16 hours to Santa Fe in central Argentina.
Iguazu felt like a vacation within our vacation. We saw an amazing natural attraction but then managed to get in some major R&R time. There wasn´t anything else to see or do in town so it was nice to veg without feeling guilty about it.
Day 1 in Iguazu: The electricity was out at the hostel but the bar was up and running. So, we drank. Jess and Kirsti may even have jumped into the pool, in the middle of winter mind you, in their clothes. I, being the more sensible sister, continued to drink indoors and stayed dry.
Day 2 in Iguazu: We drove to the Falls, the widest in the world. It was a spectacular sight and rather than wax poetic in words, I´ll let the pictures do the talking below. One regret though, instead of taking a boat out to the Falls like the sensible Kirsti, the rest of our little backpacking family for the day decided to pass. So, we drank. Do you see a trend here? 1.5 liters of Quilmes beer later, we returned back to the hostel to nap, shower, sleep off the afternoon boozing only to wake up and drink 1 (or 5) too many free capirinhas at the hostel bar. Jess even managed to set up a game of capirinha pong... Bad idea. But it was our last night with Nick the Scotsman and Kirsti the Kiwi and so, we drank.
Day 3 in Iguazu: Hungover and tired, we managed to waste the day away. Our main tasks included and were essentially limited to: booking a bus ticket outta Iguazu, eating lunch, and trying to get un-hungover. Then back on the bus for another 16 hours to Santa Fe in central Argentina.
Iguazu felt like a vacation within our vacation. We saw an amazing natural attraction but then managed to get in some major R&R time. There wasn´t anything else to see or do in town so it was nice to veg without feeling guilty about it.
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| Our little backpacking family for the day: Rodney the Canadian, Carl from ATL, Kirsti, Nick, and Chris the other Scotsman |
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| Coatis in the park: they can and they will bite. |
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| Ant the monkey: she can and will bite |
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| Dos Hermanas | Two Sisters |
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| Nick and Jess: Brothers from a different mother |
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| Kirsti + Chris |
Saturday, June 2, 2007
To dream the impossible dream...
We spent three nights in Uruguay, the little buffer country between the two South American titans, Argentina and Brazil, one night in Montevideo and two nights in Colonia del Sacramento.
Highlights....
1. The Customs ppl are rather efficient. They stamp you out of Argentina, hand over your papers to the guy sitting next to them and stamp you right into Uruguay and vice versa.
2. Uruguay has gone smoke-free. Oh yes, you crazy cancer stick lovers, stay out of my fave country!!!! After the smog and grime that is BA, it was rather refreshing to be able to breathe properly without hocking up gallons of yellow phlegm.
3. Uruguay was cold like a motha-effer. Our hostels were lacking in the HEAT department forcing Ant, the blanket stealer, to snuggle next to me fully-clothed in Montevideo (I HATE snuggling, spooning, touching while I sleep). One night I even refused to shower since showering entailed walking outside the dorm with your 7 layers of clothes on, going to the bathroom where you could see the heat coming off of your skin while you undressed, and then having only about 6.3 minutes to get clean before the water tank decided to go empty leaving you shivering and cursing God.
4. Unable to withstand the cold any longer, Ant and I pillaged a Columbia store and stocked up on more thermals and fleeces. Oh yes, I have become the STINKY sister since I refused to take off my thermals...ever. WHATEVER. My stench is not my problem since I can't breathe or smell anyways...yeah allergies, I knew you were good for something!
5. Forget you Brangelina, no legal adoption for this girl! I am going to smuggle two bebes back to the States with me when I leave this continent. Francisco and Pepe, the two cutest little country boys, ages 3 and 5, respectively. We spent a day on a farm riding smelly horses and looking at pigs and cows and dogs. And poop. So much poop everywhere in SA, good lord! Ant managed to step in some TWICE. And she calls me the stinky one.
6. Ant is dumb.
7. To qualify statement 6---Ant is skerred of all animals making it rather OBNOXIOUS to be around her on a freaking farm. What does she expect?!?!? Merry-go-fucking-rounds?!?!?! She yelped every time her horse decided to turn or move. Even the farmer was laughing at her. She's a disgrace to all Texans. She also hates dogs on the streets. Ummmm, stray dogs are like rats in SA. They sniff you when you walk by, they follow you to the edge of town, they hump like bunnies.
I have only 2 dreams now: to own a yacht (which Lindsey has so kindly agreed to buy for me when she's no longer a balla on a budget. Thank you again, good friend) AND to have my own little country home on the edge of Colonia del Sacramento with cute Uruguayan grandchildren. Any takers?
-Smelly Jess
Highlights....
1. The Customs ppl are rather efficient. They stamp you out of Argentina, hand over your papers to the guy sitting next to them and stamp you right into Uruguay and vice versa.
2. Uruguay has gone smoke-free. Oh yes, you crazy cancer stick lovers, stay out of my fave country!!!! After the smog and grime that is BA, it was rather refreshing to be able to breathe properly without hocking up gallons of yellow phlegm.
3. Uruguay was cold like a motha-effer. Our hostels were lacking in the HEAT department forcing Ant, the blanket stealer, to snuggle next to me fully-clothed in Montevideo (I HATE snuggling, spooning, touching while I sleep). One night I even refused to shower since showering entailed walking outside the dorm with your 7 layers of clothes on, going to the bathroom where you could see the heat coming off of your skin while you undressed, and then having only about 6.3 minutes to get clean before the water tank decided to go empty leaving you shivering and cursing God.
4. Unable to withstand the cold any longer, Ant and I pillaged a Columbia store and stocked up on more thermals and fleeces. Oh yes, I have become the STINKY sister since I refused to take off my thermals...ever. WHATEVER. My stench is not my problem since I can't breathe or smell anyways...yeah allergies, I knew you were good for something!
5. Forget you Brangelina, no legal adoption for this girl! I am going to smuggle two bebes back to the States with me when I leave this continent. Francisco and Pepe, the two cutest little country boys, ages 3 and 5, respectively. We spent a day on a farm riding smelly horses and looking at pigs and cows and dogs. And poop. So much poop everywhere in SA, good lord! Ant managed to step in some TWICE. And she calls me the stinky one.
6. Ant is dumb.
7. To qualify statement 6---Ant is skerred of all animals making it rather OBNOXIOUS to be around her on a freaking farm. What does she expect?!?!? Merry-go-fucking-rounds?!?!?! She yelped every time her horse decided to turn or move. Even the farmer was laughing at her. She's a disgrace to all Texans. She also hates dogs on the streets. Ummmm, stray dogs are like rats in SA. They sniff you when you walk by, they follow you to the edge of town, they hump like bunnies.
I have only 2 dreams now: to own a yacht (which Lindsey has so kindly agreed to buy for me when she's no longer a balla on a budget. Thank you again, good friend) AND to have my own little country home on the edge of Colonia del Sacramento with cute Uruguayan grandchildren. Any takers?
-Smelly Jess
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| Ant looks natural atop a horse... NOT. |
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| Francisco and Pepe, Jess´s adopted Uruguayan bebes |
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On the waterfront in the Barrio Historico in Colonia del Sacramento
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| Little Ant, Big Big World: the water was quite brown and dirty |
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| Fruit stand in Ciudad Vieja section of Montevideo |
To Tiff: you´ve managed to follow me to the southern hemisphere albeit in a tip jar in a Montevideo hostel (with no heat).
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Friday, June 1, 2007
Little People, Big World
So we are about a week behind in blogging. Forgive us but the connection is spotty and slow. I am a spoiled American brat used to my high speed internet connection and it drives me bonkers to blog on the hostel or internet cafe computers. But we are now in Puerto Iguazu, near the Brazilian border. It´s raining. I´ve got down time. So blogging it is...
We flew into B.A. (Buenos Aires for all you non-backpackers) last week and spent 5 nights at Milhouse Hostel in the City Centre. The Milhouse is one of those hopping, party-central, backpacker hotspots, and Jess and I were ill-prepared for the noise and constant buzz and pervasive cigarette smoke of the place after our stressful weekend of flying back from Nassau (yeah yeah, we´re brats, I know so spare me), booking it to Tommy´s graduation in Austin and throwing the ´rents a surprise 25th anniversary party. And y´know, packing last minute of course. Everyone seemed too cool for school and had been traveling for seemingly 15-20 months, and here we were, 2 Americans (everyone tut-tutted after hearing we were from los Estados Unidos) in our first city on the first week of our mere two month trip. So I´m not sure we loved B.A. as much as we should´ve and for that, I´m a little sad. But big deal. It gave us some time to decompress and get used to the culture of backpacking and talking to strangers non-stop.
However, some B.A. highlights:
- I saw my 1st futbol game (ever) where La Boca Juniors beat the crap outta Gimnasio de Jujuy 3-1. Thank god we went with other gringos from the hostel and sat in actual seats rather than the rowdy hooligan standing only section. I had wanted to chance it and sit with locals. Jess´ friend Jacob actually went solo to the same game we went to and sat with them, where he later got mugged on the way out... The hooligans sang and cheered and jumped non-stop for the entire game. It was fun albeit cold. Note to self: don´t wear flip flops in the middle of winter.
- We walked through the main hoods of Recoleta, San Telmo, Palermo, City Centre. There are plazas everywhere. Argentinian women dress oh so cute and I constantly felt like a fat sloth in my backpacker´s wardrobe of thermals, long sleeved tees, cargos and sneakers. And there´s dog crap everywhere. You would think the concept of picking up after your pets would be pretty basic. Guess not.
- I was quite trite and listened to ¨Don´t Cry for Me Argentina¨ while sitting in the plaza outside the presidential palace where Eva Peron aka Evita would address the common folks. Yeah, I did. Bite me. We also saw where she was buried in the big Recoleta Cemetary. Cemetaries creep Jess and out and she screamed bloody Mary and jumped about 10 feet when she saw an open coffin with old bones peeking out. Yup, that´s my sister. We also saw the grave of poor sad Rufina who was accidentally buried alive after an epileptic seizure. Her nurse heard noises and when they opened the coffin, they saw scratches on her body and face, but she had died (for real). That discovery prompted a paranoid response where the rich Buenos Aires dead set up bells and contraptions from the coffin to the mausoleum front.
- We had an AMAZING steak dinner at La Cabrera in the Palermo ´hood where I actually conceded defeat to the big ol´ medium rare filet on my plate. I made it through half and I still thought I´d blow up. All that bloody moo-ing goodness and 2 bottle of wines shared between 5 backpackers wasn´t even $20US. I think I´m in heaven...aka hell for vegetarians.
- B.A. is quite polluted, but not as bad as Santiago we hear. Jess´ allergies have flared though and the constant cigarette smoke doesn´t help. We´ve both been a bit under the weather because it is winter here. And it´s only going to get colder as we travel north.
- We went out for 2 nights with others from the hostel, but we just couldn´t hang with the Argentines. Lunch is around 12-2pm and dinner is around 9-11pm, which means we wouldn´t head out to the bars or clubs til 2-3am...We couldn´t stay out til the wee hours of the morning like the other backpackers and Argentines. Who would´ve thought? belligerANT is not all that belligerent relatively.
B.A. is actually all a bit of a blur. Because of that, Jess and I have gotten into the habit of journaling in our paper journals everyday since B.A. If not, cities and restaurants and people start blending into one big mess. We´ve met people from all corners of the world: New Zealand, Australia, England, Scotland, Norway, Netherlands, Denmark, Israel, Spain, Brazil, Mexico. Americans are in the minority, obviously, in the backpacker crew. We actually traveled with a Kiwi named Kirsti from the Milhouse to Uruguay for 3 nights but I´m leaving the Uruguay entry up to Jess. We are quite the little border stamp whores now. I hope to have a filled up passport upon my return!
My Spanish has picked up and Jess´ has too but a bit slower than mine. I think it helped that I spent a month in Bolivia last year and was forced to speak Spanish with patients. Communication is still an issue sometimes but with a smile and a ¨Can you please speak slower?¨ we are both able to manage quite well. There are others traveling with only the most basic grasp of Spanish and after watching them struggle, I´m quite happy with ourselves.
And no, Jess and I have not killed each other yet. We actually have barely fought or squabbled. I´m pretty amazed. But it´s also been only one week. Seven more to go...
Keep emailing and commenting. It makes us feel loved! Hopefully, I´ll add pictures to this blog later.
PICTURES!
We flew into B.A. (Buenos Aires for all you non-backpackers) last week and spent 5 nights at Milhouse Hostel in the City Centre. The Milhouse is one of those hopping, party-central, backpacker hotspots, and Jess and I were ill-prepared for the noise and constant buzz and pervasive cigarette smoke of the place after our stressful weekend of flying back from Nassau (yeah yeah, we´re brats, I know so spare me), booking it to Tommy´s graduation in Austin and throwing the ´rents a surprise 25th anniversary party. And y´know, packing last minute of course. Everyone seemed too cool for school and had been traveling for seemingly 15-20 months, and here we were, 2 Americans (everyone tut-tutted after hearing we were from los Estados Unidos) in our first city on the first week of our mere two month trip. So I´m not sure we loved B.A. as much as we should´ve and for that, I´m a little sad. But big deal. It gave us some time to decompress and get used to the culture of backpacking and talking to strangers non-stop.
However, some B.A. highlights:
- I saw my 1st futbol game (ever) where La Boca Juniors beat the crap outta Gimnasio de Jujuy 3-1. Thank god we went with other gringos from the hostel and sat in actual seats rather than the rowdy hooligan standing only section. I had wanted to chance it and sit with locals. Jess´ friend Jacob actually went solo to the same game we went to and sat with them, where he later got mugged on the way out... The hooligans sang and cheered and jumped non-stop for the entire game. It was fun albeit cold. Note to self: don´t wear flip flops in the middle of winter.
- We walked through the main hoods of Recoleta, San Telmo, Palermo, City Centre. There are plazas everywhere. Argentinian women dress oh so cute and I constantly felt like a fat sloth in my backpacker´s wardrobe of thermals, long sleeved tees, cargos and sneakers. And there´s dog crap everywhere. You would think the concept of picking up after your pets would be pretty basic. Guess not.
- I was quite trite and listened to ¨Don´t Cry for Me Argentina¨ while sitting in the plaza outside the presidential palace where Eva Peron aka Evita would address the common folks. Yeah, I did. Bite me. We also saw where she was buried in the big Recoleta Cemetary. Cemetaries creep Jess and out and she screamed bloody Mary and jumped about 10 feet when she saw an open coffin with old bones peeking out. Yup, that´s my sister. We also saw the grave of poor sad Rufina who was accidentally buried alive after an epileptic seizure. Her nurse heard noises and when they opened the coffin, they saw scratches on her body and face, but she had died (for real). That discovery prompted a paranoid response where the rich Buenos Aires dead set up bells and contraptions from the coffin to the mausoleum front.
- We had an AMAZING steak dinner at La Cabrera in the Palermo ´hood where I actually conceded defeat to the big ol´ medium rare filet on my plate. I made it through half and I still thought I´d blow up. All that bloody moo-ing goodness and 2 bottle of wines shared between 5 backpackers wasn´t even $20US. I think I´m in heaven...aka hell for vegetarians.
- B.A. is quite polluted, but not as bad as Santiago we hear. Jess´ allergies have flared though and the constant cigarette smoke doesn´t help. We´ve both been a bit under the weather because it is winter here. And it´s only going to get colder as we travel north.
- We went out for 2 nights with others from the hostel, but we just couldn´t hang with the Argentines. Lunch is around 12-2pm and dinner is around 9-11pm, which means we wouldn´t head out to the bars or clubs til 2-3am...We couldn´t stay out til the wee hours of the morning like the other backpackers and Argentines. Who would´ve thought? belligerANT is not all that belligerent relatively.
B.A. is actually all a bit of a blur. Because of that, Jess and I have gotten into the habit of journaling in our paper journals everyday since B.A. If not, cities and restaurants and people start blending into one big mess. We´ve met people from all corners of the world: New Zealand, Australia, England, Scotland, Norway, Netherlands, Denmark, Israel, Spain, Brazil, Mexico. Americans are in the minority, obviously, in the backpacker crew. We actually traveled with a Kiwi named Kirsti from the Milhouse to Uruguay for 3 nights but I´m leaving the Uruguay entry up to Jess. We are quite the little border stamp whores now. I hope to have a filled up passport upon my return!
My Spanish has picked up and Jess´ has too but a bit slower than mine. I think it helped that I spent a month in Bolivia last year and was forced to speak Spanish with patients. Communication is still an issue sometimes but with a smile and a ¨Can you please speak slower?¨ we are both able to manage quite well. There are others traveling with only the most basic grasp of Spanish and after watching them struggle, I´m quite happy with ourselves.
And no, Jess and I have not killed each other yet. We actually have barely fought or squabbled. I´m pretty amazed. But it´s also been only one week. Seven more to go...
Keep emailing and commenting. It makes us feel loved! Hopefully, I´ll add pictures to this blog later.
PICTURES!
 |
| Jess freaked out at Eva Peron's grave |
 |
| Madres de la Plaza del Mayo: these women march every Thursday in memory of their sons lost during the ¨Dirty War" |
 |
| La Boca Juniors v. El Gimnasio de JuJuy |
 |
| Crazy hooligans at La Boca Juniors v. El Gimnasio de JuJuy |
 |
| San Telmo |
 |
| With Kirsti the Kiwi and sporting our Argentinian pride on their Independence Day (25 de Mayo) |
besos,
Ant
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Death by sausage
In order to save money, we try to eat lunch for US$1-2/person. On 25 of May (Argentina Independence Day), we loiter around the Plazo de Mayo waiting for a "commemorative performance" that never happens and walk back toward the hostel to find a place to eat. We pass a dirty, empty parking lot where one guy is chopping up french bread with a machete and another guy is cooking heaps of chorizo and assorted, unindentifiable sausages on an open charcoal grill. For some reason, we think it will be sanitary enough to eat if we each pop 2 Pepto Bismol pills beforehand. It smells good. It looks good. I take a bite. And get a raw chunk of pork (I think). Jess assures me it's only uncooked because it's the tip. After eating more than half of the sausage, I realize the whole thing has bits of uncooked parts and charcoal.
I now have tapeworm. South America is the best diet ever.
Note: I am kidding! But it would be a great diet regimen...
I now have tapeworm. South America is the best diet ever.
Note: I am kidding! But it would be a great diet regimen...
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Money talks
Currency exchange. Yes, that was the first conversation I had when I stepped foot onto this continent. No, not your usual whiny exchanges about the hardships of flying coach with a crying baby two rows behind you (as you read earlier, Ant and I got the luxury of pretending to be ballas on a budget when we were upgraded to business class) or about the difficulties of sleeping on a 10-hour flight...
Just currency exchange.
Ant: I don't understand why selling pesos would give you a profit here?
Jess: WTF are you talking about? It doesn't.
Ant: The sign says you can buy at 3.07 pesos and sell at 3.10.
Jess: Yeah. That makes sense. You end up losing money when you sell..
Ant: [stares blankly at me}
As the couple behind us smirked, I proceeded to engage myself in a 10-minute conversation about the apparent intricacies of buying and selling different currencies and who profits in the end...
Obviously, it wasn't me since I realized for the umpteenth time that just because someone gets into med school, doesn't necessarily mean s/he is smart. I pray for the future of medicine and my sanity for the next two months...
The smart one,
Jess
Just currency exchange.
Ant: I don't understand why selling pesos would give you a profit here?
Jess: WTF are you talking about? It doesn't.
Ant: The sign says you can buy at 3.07 pesos and sell at 3.10.
Jess: Yeah. That makes sense. You end up losing money when you sell..
Ant: [stares blankly at me}
As the couple behind us smirked, I proceeded to engage myself in a 10-minute conversation about the apparent intricacies of buying and selling different currencies and who profits in the end...
Obviously, it wasn't me since I realized for the umpteenth time that just because someone gets into med school, doesn't necessarily mean s/he is smart. I pray for the future of medicine and my sanity for the next two months...
The smart one,
Jess
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Over and out, scout
And we're off!
Jess and I fly out of Houston this afternoon for Buenos Aires and arrive on Wednesday morning.
Approximate travel time of 15 hours.
All I want is: decent airline food; minimal snoring from Jess; no babies or overweight persons next to me; and to land safe and sound in Argentina rather than some island with an impenetrable magnetic force with Others, polar bears and black smoky clouds that kill inhabitating it. Yeah, lame LOST reference but big deal! I'm going to miss the season finale.
Everyone keeps asking if I'm excited. And to be honest, it's a smorgasbord of emotions: anxiety, anticipation, apprehension. (I had to come up with a 3rd 'a' adjective to maintain the alliteration...) I've been talking about doing an extended backpacking trip since I graduated in Summer 2005 and to see it actually realized, it's just surreal. I feel like I'm hopping on a plane for a trip back to Chicago rather than leaving for a different continent with no itinerary and no guaranteed housing for 58 or so days. This goes completely against my Type A, OCD nature but it'll be a grand adventure with plenty of stories...
Check back in a few days to make sure we landed safe and sound and that Jess hasn't run off with some Latin lover already.
-belligerANT & j-gun
Jess and I fly out of Houston this afternoon for Buenos Aires and arrive on Wednesday morning.
Approximate travel time of 15 hours.
All I want is: decent airline food; minimal snoring from Jess; no babies or overweight persons next to me; and to land safe and sound in Argentina rather than some island with an impenetrable magnetic force with Others, polar bears and black smoky clouds that kill inhabitating it. Yeah, lame LOST reference but big deal! I'm going to miss the season finale.
Everyone keeps asking if I'm excited. And to be honest, it's a smorgasbord of emotions: anxiety, anticipation, apprehension. (I had to come up with a 3rd 'a' adjective to maintain the alliteration...) I've been talking about doing an extended backpacking trip since I graduated in Summer 2005 and to see it actually realized, it's just surreal. I feel like I'm hopping on a plane for a trip back to Chicago rather than leaving for a different continent with no itinerary and no guaranteed housing for 58 or so days. This goes completely against my Type A, OCD nature but it'll be a grand adventure with plenty of stories...
Check back in a few days to make sure we landed safe and sound and that Jess hasn't run off with some Latin lover already.
-belligerANT & j-gun
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
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