Sunday, April 22, 2012
Semana Santa, Part 1: Mendoza Madness
(Note to my bahiense friends: this idiom means that I was very happy. However, considering that clams do not smile, and in fact, do nothing really, it makes little sense. Maybe they are happy because they do nothing. Hmmmm. Anyways, on with the story!)
Just when I thought life couldn't get any better, the attendant whipped out the Bingo cards. This, I thought to myself, was very swanky. A rousing bus-wide game ensued, and I was on a roll, punching numbers like crazy, anxiously perched on the edge of my seat. With only a couple of numbers to go, victory was within reach. I was so busy practicing my Argentine pronunciation of 'BEEEENGO!' in my head, that I almost didn't notice when the passenger in front of me won the game, robbing me of of both my bingo glory, and a free bottle of wine. Despite this massive disappointment, I tried to stay positive. I reminded myself that the following afternoon I would be in Mendoza!
This was almost my ticket to glory and acclaim:
The next morning I awoke and glanced groggily at my cell phone. April 1st. I perked up immediately. It was April Fool's Day, or what I understand to be the Argentine equivalent of el Día de los Inocentes. In the U.S., April Fool's Day is essentially a free pass to engage in trickery of all sorts, ranging from small jokes, to full-fledged, highly involved pranks. It was a propitious morning, and I was feeling rather mischievous. I selected my target: Giulia.
Spongebob Squarepants knows what's up:
My friend Giulia, also on a Fulbright Scholarship, is living in Paraná, and we were to meet up in Mendoza to spend the week traveling together. My master plan went as follows: I sent Giulia a text message, explaining that my bus had broken down, that there wasn't another bus to Mendoza until late that night. Tragically, I was headed back to Bahía Blanca. I was so sorry. Could she please forgive me? I probably could not have pulled this off in person, but luckily Giulia could not hear my delighted chortles via text.
She totally bought it: Was I okay? Could I get my money back? My plan was unfolding famously until I arrived at her bus platform, ready to appear dramatically and shout, 'April Fool's!', (this is the essential, culminating step of any respectable April Fool's prank), and I found an empty bus. When I called Giulia and found out she was in a taxi, on her way to the hostel, she deduced from my awkwardly long silence that she had just been FOOLED!
Giulia's incredulous, too-relieved-to-be-travelling-with-a-friend-to-be-angry-at-me expression:
Once we had settled into our hostel and Giulia and fully recovered from my nearly perfectly executed prank, we met up with Leá and Sophie, my two French compañeras from Bahía. It was a beautiful day, and we headed to the Cerro de la Gloria in the Parque General San Martín. Atop the Cerro (hill), we admired an impressive monument to San Martín's Army of los Andes, commemorating the liberation of Argentina, Chile and Peru from the Spaniards.
Even more impressive than the statue however, was this young boy sitting at its base, wolfing down his own army-size bucket of ice cream. I considered asking him what flavors he was enjoying, but didn't want to interrupt his helado-induced religious experience:
In the beautiful Parque de San Martín, we unwound, drinking mate and soaking up the sun. I thought I had seen it all after the ice-cream boy, but then I saw cotton candy backpack man. I was beginning to see that Mendoza was full of wonders.
On the walk home, we admired some really cool street art. Here's Mona, probably enjoying some Argentine rock nacional:
Back at the hostel, the marvels of Mendoza continued to unfold. We were shown our room, and my jaw dropped before this triple-decker monstrosity of a bed. The bed at my hostel in Buenos Aires was half as high, and even then, I had to take a running start from across the room and awkwardly shimmy up the bedpost. Thinking I would be relegated to the top-top bunk, I silently considered my options: fall tragically to my doom, or sleep on the hardwood floor. Just when I was about to ask if there was some sort of liability form I should fill out, I was informed that I would be on the lower bunk. Phew.
That evening, I thought I heard the pitter-patter of rain outside. It simply could not be. Hadn't I read that it hardly ever rains in Mendoza? I consulted my guidebook: "the region gets little rain." Indeed, the rain seems to follow us Seattleites (translation: awesome people who live in Seattle), wherever we go. Enjoying the lovely, and oh-so-famililar sound of the rainfall, Giulia and I cooked a delicious pasta dinner in the hostel. Or rather, Giulia, who is an excellent cook, worked her magic in the kitchen, while I tried to help with simple tasks I could not mess up, i.e. gathering silverware and pouring drinks.
The following morning we set off for Maipú, one of Mendoza's celebrated vineyard regions. We rented bikes from Mr. Hugo, who runs a family business, and is renowned among hostel-goers for his friendliness and impressive supply of free wine. We embarked on our bike expedition, and though the gears were broken and Giulia's bike had a flat tire, nothing could dampen our spirits.
Tasty picada lunch....
..... paired, of course, with a very nice Malbec:
Throughout the day I attempted to appear knowledgeable by dramatically swirling my glass of wine and smelling its rich tannins. (Confession: I do not understand what tannins are, and frankly, seriously question whether anyone else does either.)
At the next vineyard, we entered the winery's lobby, only to find ourselves alone and unsure of where to go. Trying to be proactive, I proceeded to look for someone, and entered this room:
I got the feeling, often experienced by young children, that I was doing something I wasn't supposed to do. Naturally, I proceeded a wander around and take a closer look at the wine-making equipment. Once I was completely convinced that this was not the wine-tasting room, I stepped out, and to my great surprise, saw the sign pictured below. Unfortunately it was in English, so I couldn't even pretend like I didn't understand. Luckily my trespass went unnoticed, and we were able to taste some wines without any trouble.
We arrived safely back the hostel, content after a full day of tasting, pedaling, and frolicking. I was no closer to understanding tannins, but I'd say the day was nevertheless a grand success. Our next stop: Valle Fértil, San Juan. To be continued.....
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Sierra de la Ventana
I was up bright and early for my first excursion out of Bahía Blanca. 12 of us living in el Barrio Universitario (11 international students studying at la UNS and myself) were headed to Sierra de la Ventana, a small town 125 km south of Bahía, and home to Argentina's oldest mountain range. I had been hearing about Sierra de la Ventana, and its great hiking and picturesque scenery, since even before I'd arrived in Bahía. Needless to say, I was very excited to see this place that Argentines were raving about all across the country.
I walked to the meeting place at the agreed upon departure time: 9 a.m. sharp. I found myself alone, unnecessarily stressed out, and realizing yet again that meeting times in Argentina are ‘flexible.’ Over the next hour, the group trickled out of the casitas. Once we were all together, bags packed, it quickly became apparent that 1) we did not know how we would arrive to Sierra (the bus was long gone), and 2) we did not know where we would sleep (many of us had sleeping bags, but we had only one tent). No problem! What we lacked in terms of a plan, we made up for with our spontaneity and thirst for adventure!
Four hours behind schedule, and to my great surprise, the remis appeared. We rolled out, ready for a weekend spent in the great outdoors.
We were a motley crew, and the remis swelled with the international song of Spanish, French, Colombian, North American and Mexican accents, interspersed with the occasional snore, which as far as I could tell, did not vary by country. Some members of the group also amused themselves by making loud gaucho noises, which I cannot reproduce here. I sat up front, sandwiched between my friend Cesar and the driver, who had a most impressive mustache and an incomprehensible Argentine accent. I seriously questioned whether he was speaking Spanish, though Cesar confirmed that in fact, he was. I wanted to take a picture of his mustache, but I deemed the situation too awkward. You will have to use your imaginations ☺
This glorious panorama from the front seat accurately reflected the limitless possibilities that lay ahead:
We arrived in Sierra de la Ventana, saw several people milling around the streets, and immediately determined the town to be far too populated. We sought a true tree-hugging experience, and therefore headed to Villa de la Ventana, an even tinier town 17 km northwest of Sierra. Once in Villa de la Ventana, we didn't waste any time, and proceeded to wander aimlessly through its dirt roads:
Still roaming.....
After sufficiently roving through every street in Villa de la Ventana, we addressed the first item on the agenda: lodging! 12 people + 1 small tent = extreme discomfort at best, severe injury at worst. Even I, with my humanities background, could do that math.
Here we are, the futility of our situation sinking in:
The next several hours were spent searching for a cabin. Clarification: half the group searched, while the other half ‘guarded the stuff,’ i.e. laid in the grass, eating empanadas and leisurely petting stray dogs. (As you may notice, I belonged to the less proactive party, pictured below).
Finally, the responsible members of the group found a cabin, and we spend the afternoon chilling outside in the sunshine and playing cards. We quickly realized that all the represented countries had some version of what in the United States is called B.S., and involves both lying about your own cards and trying to call out the other players for lying. (Apparently, Argentines are the master deceivers with their beloved truco, but I have yet to learn how to play!) Clearly, the art of deception is a worldwide fascination.
That evening, our very large group entered and filled the very small grocery store, stocking up on food for dinner and for our hike the next morning. We made a delicious choripan dinner on the barbeque outside the cabin.
The owner of the cabin instructed us to open the curtains in morning, as a sort of signal, when we were ready for breakfast. The signal was apparently ineffective, as our breakfast arrived an hour after our dramatic opening of the curtains, 10 minutes before our bus was to leave. Nevertheless, we scarfed down tasty media lunas, strolled down to the bus station, and miraculously, made our bus, which (surprise!) was also late.
After a short bus ride, we arrived at el Parque Provincial Ernesto Tornquist, and headed straight to the base of Cerro de la Ventana. Of the three 'Senderos Autoguiados' (self-guided trails), we chose Hueco de la Ventana: 5 a 6 horas; Dificultad: gran esfuerzo físico.' We were ready.
The hike up Sierra de la Ventana was beautiful, full of rolling hillsides, rocky precipices, endless pampas, and even a highly anticipated guanaco sighting.
After a couple hours of hiking, we were rewarded with (drumroll…..) la Ventana! (translation for my fellow yanquis back home: the Window). La Ventana is a large, imperious opening in the mountainside which frames the rolling hillside below, and rocky peaks looming in the distance. Though the mountain ranger advised us to stay in front of the Ventana only briefly, our enormous group inevitably monopolized the area, each of us posing in front of this photo op made in heaven.
We climbed down, and reluctant to break from the general theme of the weekend, arrived at the base with no plan, and no ride back to Villa de la Ventana. I began experiencing déjà vu: half the group disappeared, and the rest of us helplessly lay in the grass, eating snacks and waiting to be rescued. Here I am, writing this blog entry:
Several hours later a van pulled over on the side of the road. I looked up hopefully, and could make out a familiar face. I couldn’t have been happier to see my bushy-mustached, remis-driving friend! At long last, we had been saved!
On the trip back to Bahía I reflected upon the weekend, which was easily the most disorganized trip of my life, but also one of the most fun. Whether hiking, sitting, wandering, and/or deliberating extensively, we did it together, and had a great time. I feel so lucky to be living with such a great group of people, and to have such an incredible natural landscape at my fingertips. I will surely be back soon. Maybe next time we'll bring an extra tent.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Bienvenida a Bahía Blanca!
In short, I love Argentina. While studying abroad in Buenos Aires two years ago, I became enamored by the people, their accent and complex system of gesticulations, the mate ritual, the parks, and the warmth and energy I encountered all across the country. I was hooked, and left Argentina reluctantly. I was determined to return however, and by the end of my senior year of college, began desperately contemplating potential post-graduation job opportunities in Argentina (Dog walker? Gaucho? Carlos Gardel impersonator?). Deep down though, I knew very well that I cannot control 25 dogs, nor can I ride a horse, nor do I look anything like Argentina’s most famous tango singer.
It came as a huge honor and delight then, to find out that I had received a Fulbright Scholarship from the U.S. Department of State and the Argentine Ministry of Education, to work as an English Teaching Assistant in Argentina. I would go forth not only to teach the English language, but also to share my culture, to show that the U.S. has much more to offer than hamburgers and bad television. Conversely, I would also immerse myself in Argentine culture and society, to then take this knowledge back with me upon my return to the United States. It was my dream job, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled.
This could have been me:
Eight months later, I found out that I would be living in Bahía Blanca for my nine-month grant. When I received the email at 6 a.m. one auspicious November morning (I was expecting the news, and therefore had been obsessively checking my email every seven seconds), I shrieked so loudly that my parents wondered if I had fallen down the stairs and broken my leg. My shout, of course, was one of joy. To be honest, I knew very little about Bahía, this mysterious ‘white bay’ down south, and so naturally, I proceeded to Google my future home. The first hit was a youtube video of a couple dancing to one of my favorite tango songs, ‘Bahía Blanca,’ by Di Sarli. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvQ3wgo9jLc). I sensed in this moment the Argentine tango gods were telling me I was headed to a very special place.
Carlos di Sarli, very happy with my placement in Bahía Blanca:
Here I am at my farewell party at home in Seattle, eager to leave for Argentina!
I had arranged to arrive in Buenos Aires a month earlier than the start of my grant, along with my friend Giulia, another Fulbright grantee working in Paraná. I spent my weeks visiting friends from my semester abroad, meeting new people at my hostel in Palermo, and enjoying the city that had been my home for five months.
Here I am with Natalia, who I lived with during my semester abroad:
Exploring the fair in San Telmo:
At La Bomba del Tiempo drum show:
Dancing tango at a milonga (I learned during my semester abroad!):
With my Fulbright friends during orientation:
By the time the Fulbright orientation started in Buenos Aires, I could hardly wait to get to Bahía Blanca. When I arrived at the bus station in Bahía on March 17th, I couldn’t stop smiling, despite the fact that it was 6 a.m. and people were giving me funny looks. My first night in Bahía, I received a very warm welcome, along with the international students living in el Barrio Universitario. We were greeted by our buddies, and served delicious choripan.
Here I am at the Fiesta de Bienvenida with my buddy Meli:
After less than a day in Bahía, I was already struck by how open and friendly the people here are, how willing and excited everyone is to welcome me to their city. I feel extremely lucky to be living in Bahía Blanca, and am looking forward to an amazing year!
It came as a huge honor and delight then, to find out that I had received a Fulbright Scholarship from the U.S. Department of State and the Argentine Ministry of Education, to work as an English Teaching Assistant in Argentina. I would go forth not only to teach the English language, but also to share my culture, to show that the U.S. has much more to offer than hamburgers and bad television. Conversely, I would also immerse myself in Argentine culture and society, to then take this knowledge back with me upon my return to the United States. It was my dream job, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled.
This could have been me:
Eight months later, I found out that I would be living in Bahía Blanca for my nine-month grant. When I received the email at 6 a.m. one auspicious November morning (I was expecting the news, and therefore had been obsessively checking my email every seven seconds), I shrieked so loudly that my parents wondered if I had fallen down the stairs and broken my leg. My shout, of course, was one of joy. To be honest, I knew very little about Bahía, this mysterious ‘white bay’ down south, and so naturally, I proceeded to Google my future home. The first hit was a youtube video of a couple dancing to one of my favorite tango songs, ‘Bahía Blanca,’ by Di Sarli. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvQ3wgo9jLc). I sensed in this moment the Argentine tango gods were telling me I was headed to a very special place.
Carlos di Sarli, very happy with my placement in Bahía Blanca:
Here I am at my farewell party at home in Seattle, eager to leave for Argentina!
I had arranged to arrive in Buenos Aires a month earlier than the start of my grant, along with my friend Giulia, another Fulbright grantee working in Paraná. I spent my weeks visiting friends from my semester abroad, meeting new people at my hostel in Palermo, and enjoying the city that had been my home for five months.
Here I am with Natalia, who I lived with during my semester abroad:
Exploring the fair in San Telmo:
At La Bomba del Tiempo drum show:
Dancing tango at a milonga (I learned during my semester abroad!):
With my Fulbright friends during orientation:
By the time the Fulbright orientation started in Buenos Aires, I could hardly wait to get to Bahía Blanca. When I arrived at the bus station in Bahía on March 17th, I couldn’t stop smiling, despite the fact that it was 6 a.m. and people were giving me funny looks. My first night in Bahía, I received a very warm welcome, along with the international students living in el Barrio Universitario. We were greeted by our buddies, and served delicious choripan.
Here I am at the Fiesta de Bienvenida with my buddy Meli:
After less than a day in Bahía, I was already struck by how open and friendly the people here are, how willing and excited everyone is to welcome me to their city. I feel extremely lucky to be living in Bahía Blanca, and am looking forward to an amazing year!
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