Olives, Bread, Wine and Chocolate? I'm going to have to think about that....

 We spent a glorious few days in Mendoza which involved wandering around the city (which is adorable, and much more chill than Buenos Aires), operation bed bug extermination (cooking all of our belongings in black garbage bags in the very hot Mendoza sun), and washing all of our cloth belongings. Most importantly while we were in Mendoza, we took a public bus to outside the city where we rented bikes from 'Mr. Hugo', who sends you on your way with a bike and a map.

We first went to a wine museum and then to a place where they harvest olives (for oil and consumption), make chocolate, and various liquers. We did a tour/tasting there, which was all kinds of fabulous. Seriously. Shots of liquer at 11:00 am? Yes, please! Various forms of olives (oil, paste, whole, etc), chased by seventeen different kinds of homemade, flavoured chocolate, at 11:10 am? Pretty please! (There was a whole lot of apologizing to my dairy intolerant body...). We then got back on our bikes (which was much more difficult after said bread, olives, alcohol and chocolate), and took the trek to a small family vineyard. There was a lot of construction in the little town we were in so the riding was not always smooth. We did another tour at a beautiful vineyard, learned about wine and did a tasting. While we were eating lunch there, it downpoured. It stopped just in time for us to leave, but only after it had seriously soaked the dirt roads we had just biked. Thankfully the ride back seemed much shorter (perhaps on account of all the wine?), however, it was SO muddy. It was really just funny, mostly because our bikes had fenders on them, unlike the other travellers who were biking by us, who had rented from another company (seriously, you see your options, one of them is 'Mr. Hugo', how do you choose anyone else?), and they had no fenders. No fenders, and terribly muddy toushies. We did get really muddy legs and feet, but it was mostly just funny. When we brought our bikes back to Mr. Hugo, Mrs. Hugo was there to greet us with a glass of red wine in a tiny plastic cup.

We hopped back onto the bus to get back to the city, like regular Mendocinos (I think that is what they are called...). During the ride back a woman became enraged with the bus driver, and they engaged in a yelling match for about ten minutes. It was entertaining, though we weren't always sure what was being said. J is certain she heard her tell the driver that his head is 'full of shit'.

It was a pretty great day.

So, thank you, Mendoza, for confirming my love of bread, wine, olives and chocolate. And the Spanish language. Oh, and reggae music. So, so much loveliness.

I was in need of a little reminder.

Muchas gracias.

Let the 'real' traveling begin.

This past week has taken us to Uruguay (Colonia and Montevideo), back to Buenos Aires, up to Iguazu Falls via a 20 hour bus ride (the falls are as beautiful as you would hope), then on a 38 hour bus ride to Mendoza, Argentina (wine country!).
We had a (traumatizing!) run in with bed bugs (if you've never seen them, trust me, you don't want to) in Montevideo, spent a few days on the beach, experienced Argentine immigration services (and I don't mean at the border), went back to our favorite pizza place in BA for one last Napolitana pizza (and attempt for one last chance encounter with the World's most beautiful waiter), we said good bye to friends, experienced the jungle humidity, and again, experienced the joy of getting off a bus after 38 hours. 
It was all an experience, but one of my most favourite things happened the day before we left our hostel in Buenos Aires for the last time. On my way back to the hostel after picking up my (clean! :) laundry, I ran into the woman who was our cleaning woman for the first four weeks of our stay. The same woman who taught me how to properly flush an Argentine toilet (which I will add, perhaps unnecessarily, is an important skill!). She had many kind words for me (most of which involved having a good time on the rest of our trip, being safe, but make sure that we think about her, and have a good time for her, because she will still be here, working. She stated that if we come back, to come and see her). All this was lovely, but the loveliest was
when she asked me to do her a favour, asking that if I ever get the chance to meet Alanis
Morissette that I tell her that she has a fan in Buenos Aires, Argentina. That would have been adorable enough, but she then began singing (in a beautiful voice), the lyrics to 'hand in my pocket'. It was all so unexpected, adorable, and at the same time, touching that I quickly assured her that of course I would do that for her, should I ever cross paths with Alanis.

This one's for you, Luisa.

I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah.
I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine.

Consider her told. 

Just Call Me Butterfingers

Four. Yep, four. That is the number of things I have either completely destroyed, or at least partially destroyed, by dropping them (often repeatedly), since arriving on the continent.


First, there was the balsamic vinegar incident, which was definitely the most public, most embarassing, messy, and mattered least.

Second there was the double whammy converter/ipod charger drop, which has likely had the most negative impact. The bathroom floors here are extremely hard, and in order to charge things you have to plug in your adaptor (which we purchased from a street  vendor, because the one we brought from Canada was incorrect), then your converter, and then whatever it is you are trying to charge/use. At the best of times this combo doesn't work very well. The hair dryer will either work not at all, or will decide to quit for apparently unknown reasons (it sometimes gets extremely hot). While charging my ipod the ipod itself gets quite 'prickly' and does a little vibrate. It is always a good idea not to touch the ipod while it is charging. I could handle all of this, until that fateful day, when I dropped the converter/charger combo right on the very hard bathroom ground. The converter is a bit cracked, but can be very easily pushed back together (we aren't sure how well it is doing its job anyways), the real problem is the ipod charger. I knew for sometime that it was on the downhill spiral, because I could see cracks in it. This week, the unthinkable happened. At first pieces of plastic were merely falling off it. Then one of the prongs fell off, but were easily put back together. I reconstructed it and Jo attempted to charge her ipod, which involved some sparking, and no charging.

As a result, I am off wandering around Buenos Aires, in search of an ipod charger. Not what I was hoping to do on this beautiful day. I would prefer to wander with no destination....just kidding.

Number four is my headlamp (which has proved to be so, so useful). Of course, I dropped it, several times. One of the plastic pieces holding it to the headband snapped right off. Never fear, it still works, it is just better as a necklace now.

Alright, return to my search. Anyone know the word for 'charger' in Spanish? Just kidding. Cargador.

Over and out.

Ciao (for now!) Buenos Aires!

We made it safely to Montevideo, Uruguay (by way of a ferry to Colonia, Uruguay, for a short visit to the adorable colonial town, and then a 2 hour bus ride to Montevideo).
Though there are definitely things I will not miss about the city (that is perhaps a post for another time), there are more things I will miss. First of all, if for no reason other than convenience and comfort, I will miss having essentially everything available to us (including goat cheese!). I will miss the chaos (but perhaps not trying to walk through the crowds constantly), it's beautiful old buildings,it's (very recent, extremely sad and fascinating) history, the fact that the dogs there all seemed to have owners, as opposed to many other large(and small) Latin American cities. I would like to thank Buenos Aires for being HOT in January, for having a subte system that is cheap, efficient and simple (and very hot), but most of all,I would like to thank Buenos Aires for allowing me to feel, for just a little while, like I was a little part of that big, beautiful city.

Muchas Gracias, Buenos Aires.

Walking Contradiction

In Buenos Aires it is not uncommon for people to begin eating supper (even on a week night) until 10 pm. People do not go out to the clubs (or boliches) until at least 2 am (but the music doesn't get good until after 4 am - or so we are told) and things are notoriously late, schedules are merely a suggestion. Service here is a different game than elsewhere in North America, and in order to maintain your sanity it is necessary to adjust your standards accordingly. It is not uncommon to go to the ticket counter (or any counter, for that matter...), ask for something, the vendor looks at you, hears your order and then continues (or begins) a conversation with their coworker. About related things. Like their relationship, television, how hot it is. I sometimes would wonder if they heard me in the first place, but I have since realized that is just how it is. People do things when they are ready, and not a minute earlier. People get to things when they get to them. It's cool, man. No rush.

And here is the only exception.

Crossing the street.

Yes. Let me explain a little something here. Traffic in this city is no joking matter. The streets are often one way and it is not uncommon for there to be six lanes of traffic (in the downtown core!). However, this does not seem to phase porteños (the people of Buenos Aires), who will dart across the street halfway, waiting for the busses barrelling down the street full speed, to pass, before continuing quickly across the road to - what? I'm not sure. From what I can tell they just continue walking at a regular (read: slow) pace. It is all a bit confusing.

So, what I have decided is this: they are a people eager to hurry up, in order to continue to move slow.

I don't get it.