Lightning, Ladies, Lomo & Ricardo

Have been at a loss for words of late with no real interesting photos to share either, at least not publicly. That would be for a real blog that as of now, I'm not prepared to keep. So I was going to briefly comment on yesterday - the third lightening storm we've had in almost a week, ripping through with torrential rains and the loudest of loud thunder - thunder that sounds more like a back lot sound studio re-creation than actual thunder, like how the timpani drum sounds so real during an orchestra performance, making one question the difference between actual real thunder and make believe or movie thunder in Dolby 5.1 surround.

The lomo (tenderloin steak) on the other hand - Oh My God - never ceases to amaze me. So rare, so juicy and just soo damn bloody good, are these steaks. I actually don't eat a ton of meat, or even a lot, but there comes a time when you get that hankerin' for a fat-boy piece of meat and man, they do not screw around with their steaks down here. Ethan got back from a month in Peru and we went out last night for his first real meal (not including Fanta) in the same time period. Man was it incredible, the lomos.

Most might know by now a thing or two about Argentine beef, but for those that don't, a few simple facts.

• Argentine beef comes from natural, range feed cattle on mostly organic diets of straight-up pampa grass.
• This means excellent flavor WITHOUT the fancy overnight marinades as there is simply no reason to mask the taste of the actual meat.
  
• An asado here, or BBQ, is really about the art of preparing, building and maintaining the fire in the grill. Just add salt and cook. That's it. No reason to ruin an already incredible steak.
• Al punto or jugoso? Cooked just right or bloody - those are your choices. But beware, al punto is still red, dripping and juicy, juicy, juicy!
  

Oh... the pictures. Yeah, made it to another 'hot model party', as Tommy pitched it last week. A year end bash for the girl in the white t-shirt. And that's Ricardo Piñero, owner of the top modeling agency here in Argentina. I spent the day at his cat compound last summer in Punta, broke and homeless. Speaking of broke, there's Broke Ass Stuart of SF/LP fame (above in cap).

And of course, least we forget about Tommy, the original porteño. Actually, also wanted to give a shout out to the eNano Peruano tuerto, pictured below, who is now alive, well-enough and kicking himself, screaming (at least he was in the back of the ambulance coming down the Andean mountains in Peru. Welcome back...

La Boca - Pura Vida

More random snaps, these from La Boca, home to the famous Boca Juniors futbol team and to Caminito, current home to street tango, weekend tourists and some of the best sites in BsAs.

Dominating the Chaos

A bunch of random photos from June of this year on a road trip to Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. A lawless region that borders on Brasil, Argentina and Paraguay, the Triple Fronteria zone is CRAZY!

On the digital workflow front, orgainizing thousands upon thousands of digital images can be daunting, not like the film days - there they are, right there in that binder. I see each one. And when working with very large (13MB) images, its even tougher. These images are low-res jpg previews coming out of iView Media Pro's virtual catalogs. Next step - CAPTIONS embedded into the metadata!!

Endurance

"When you're lost in the Wild and you're scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and die.
But the Code of Man says: 'Fight all you can,'
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, its easy to blow...
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard."

From Robert Service's poem, The Quitter, which is taken from a book I'm currently reading called A Voyage for Madmen, by Peter Nichols, about a race in 1968 to see who could sail around the world first; alone and without stopping. Nine men set sail and only one finishes in this epic tale of the utmost courage and deolute solitude.

Mormons World Wide

The Real Departed - Chau Sr. Altman

Robert Altman died last week at age 81, with his boots on, just as he’d hoped. For those that aren’t immediately familiar with that name, log on to Netflix or go to the local video store and rent any of his truly great American masterpiece films, all made with NO traditional Hollywood financial backing - true independent filmmaking at its finest.

Maybe you'd like his first film, the original MASH, or the fantastic The Long Goodbye with Elliot Gould's impeccable portrayal of a modern-day Philip Marlowe, or there's one of the greatest westerns ever made, McCabe & Mrs. Miller with Warren Beaty and Juile Christie, or how about the star-studded 70's mega-musical Nashville, or The Player with Tim Robins, and of course, least we forget one of my top five personal favorite films of all time - Shortcuts - a bitingly dark, brooding and hilarious look at several characters all intermingling with each other in the greater Los Angeles area, based on several short stories by Raymond Carver.

Chiming along with The Social Worker, I also say thanks to you Mr. Altman. Thanks for those memories and for your efforts, all forty or so of them, including the ones I haven’t seen.

Since we're on the topic of movies and Hollywood, had to mention Scorseses’ latest, The Departed, or Los Infiltrados (The Infiltrated in Spanish) (1) that I caught yesterday, escaping gale-force winds from the West for a dark, quite and pleasing Hollywood getaway. OK, I mentioned it... maybe more later, but just to say that "I'm impressed Marty, that you're still able (barely) to pull out the stops, digging deep back to your roots - the streets, the mean ones - giving us an entertaininng, provocative and well-made tough guy film. Nice one Marty and Chau Bob Altman, you and your work will not be forgotten.

1 - Note, the film's running time, listed at 150 minutes, is long. So long that here in Argentina they had to take INTERMISSION! WHAT?! Right in the middle of the film, with no forewarning - CUT!

Barbara Bush Bag Battalion

Despite the US secret services best attempts, and while under heavy Argentine guard and escort, Barbara Bush, age 24 and daughter of US President George Bush, had her handbag snatched from under several watchful eyes while eating with her twin sister Jenna in San Telmo's Plaza Dorrego. Read all about it in the London Guardian.

That's funny, my buddy Jeff visiting from San Francisco, was in the plaza that same afternoon writing. "I didn't see anything either," he simply replied.

Other random happenings and events in the past week or so.

• Edesur, the main electric company for Buenos Aires (I'm guessing, somehow related to the old man Edison himself if nothing other than in name only) came yesterday morning to rudely awaken me, notifying me that they were going to cut off my power. Then the technician then actually opened the circuit breaker box and literally cut the power wires to my apartment. There was an outstanding bill of a whopping $16AR ($5USD) that had gone unpaid and that was that. No more power.
  
• Paid the debt of $16AR and got a stamp on my bill saying as much
• After several attempts on my laptop, emailing the electric company while thinking the whole while how futile my efforts must be, without the ability to actually call them because my cordless telephone also needs electricity, I begin to realize how much I actually rely on toma corriente.
• Today at 8:45am there's a loud knock on the door and the bug spray guy is standing there. "Absolutely NOT!" was my simple answer. "OK, we'll catch you the next time. But it was posted outside the door."
• Then my doorbell rings at 9:30am and its Edesur - "We're here to turn your power back on," says the technician. And just like that, the power goes back on and all is well. Didn't even have anything in the fridge (besides Jeff's leftovers that he ate anyway first thing this morning while I was frantically getting the house in order for the new maid.
• 11am this morning and the doorbell rings again - its Gladys - my new Peruvian maid. THANKS GLADYS!! (And she's pretty beyond just being pretty handy with the broom and plumero.)
• 1:30 - meet the graphic designer at the Obelisco
• 2pm - pick up tiny rental car and head for the gaucho town of San Antonio del Areco and then on to Rosario for another night.
• Met up with Miss Tango in Her Eyes and Tango Speak for the first time - very cool.
• Massive karting outing with several rib injuries, none of them sustained by me.
  
• Happy Thanksgiving - a day of remembering the thankful Pilgrims and their new native American friends that we later slaughter, just like the buffalo on the open plains of the western United States.
  

Hope Barbara Bush had tons of money in that purse. Wonder if the robbers even know who she was in hindsight? Probably a couple of pibes from the street that have no idea they are now famous.

Paraná River Delta by Boat

I'm Sooo Thirsty!

Tigre, Shopping and Boca Jrs!

So… I went to Tigre on Saturday with V, at first hesitantly and then with full force vigor – time to get out of my pad, out of the neighborhood, out of the city. The touristy boat ride through the Paraná Delta canals was actually pretty cool and I ended up shooting like 500 images, the first time I've had my camera out in what now seems like moths. Sunday was set aside for a last-ditch effort to get some damn furniture for my empty crib. Bus to subway and then a ten block walk to the Mercado de Pulgas in Palermo. I have this major aversion to buying things, its part of my standard anti-consumerism stand, but I needed a fucking DESK to be able to sit (oh, and a proper chair) and work, instead of trying to lay on my lone couch and fall asleep in the moist tropical afternoon air.

The first thing we see is – a desk - $330AR ($110USD). It’s starting to already add up in my head. “You are soo cheap!” says V. No, just frugal. I want used furniture that is NOT antique, basic, wood and, yeah basic. Nothing fancy, nothing to covet. Then it starts, the dizzying walk up and down the aisles – so many items from so many people’s pasts. Finally V tells me "you’re going to buy that table." But what about my CHAIR? I still need a chair!! One last manic, almost panicked roundabout and I just couldn’t make up my mind. None of the chairs felt comfortable enough for my big precious hairy ass. Let’s go to the ATM and mull on all this.

And then there was this other ‘Country Furniture’ store just down the road, all by its lonesome. The huge red antique wagon wheel out front sold me – where getting stuff here! “You really did grow up on a farm,” V comments. Another hour goes by and I’ve completely exhausted all combinations of chairs, tables and bookshelves. What I really want, now in full retail consumer therapy mode, is that antique POKER TABLE! But its pretty old, a bit wobbly and like $500AR – and it’s not a desk. I pull the trigger and have bought my stuff.

Now I have to hire an old fat guy with a van to cart all my meaningless but necessary possessions and V and I back to San Telmo, where we have to double park because its feria day and truck all the stuff up to my flat, take a quick shower and then Luis shows up with his son Martín. Then his other son Pablo shows up with his buddy from Brazil and then eNano strolls in with his new military summer buzz cut and we’re off to the Cancha del La Boca – La Bombanera to see Boca Jrs. play against Quilmes – my second trip to a futbol match here in Argentina. This time, we’ve got killer seats in the privileged sector, not like LAST TIME!

Boca is up 1-0 and there’s a penalty in front of the goal in favor of Boca – free shot on goal which is perfect and now its 2-0. We’re screaming and yelling and jumping up and down. Suddenly Luis gets a phone call – "BOLUDO, put on your best smile because you’re on live TV right now!” We all look at the camera, jumping, screaming and yelling. Boca beats Quilmes and we finally get herded out of the stadium like cattle en route to slaughter. Back on the dark streets of La Boca, Luis gets a text from his woman, “We saw you all on TV and when the broadcast ended, they closed the show out with a tight shot of Grek’s face!”

The last time I saw myself on TV was actually just a few months ago, back in San Francisco at MT’s house. We were watching late night cable and Iron Eagle (1)was playing - a small Hollywood cameo from my youth. MT couldn’t believe it – “that really IS you!” The time before that I think we were shooting an infomercial for prostrate cancer and they needed extra members in the audience. I took off my studio headset and filled in as a concerned male. That was in the 90’s.

1 - Plot Summary for
Iron Eagle (1986) - IMDB

When Doug's father, an Air Force Pilot, is shot down by MiGs belonging to a radical Middle Eastern state, no one seems able to get him out. Doug finds Chappy, an Air Force Colonel who is intrigued by the idea of sending in two fighters piloted by himself and Doug to rescue Doug's father after bombing the MiG base. Their only problems: Borrowing two fighters, getting them from California to the Mediteranean without anyone noticing, and Doug's inability to hit anything unless he has music playing. Then come the minor problems of the state's air defenses.

Little Miss Sunshine Goes to Hooters

Back in California a month or so ago, the American film ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ was all the rage and just about everyone I spoke with, including my trusted Cinephile friends, had nothing but praise for it. So when Pequeña Miss Sunshine showed up here in English with Spanish subtitles, like most foreign films that are shown here in Buenos Aires, I had to go. (Ironically, going to the movies is something I really love but have made virtually no time for here in BA and this may be only the third film I’ve seen in an actual cinema in almost a YEAR)!

Not the greatest film in the world, BUT… extremely well done and very, very funny indeed. So damn funny that I had to go back the next night with some other friends and maybe it was even funnier this time than the first, watching them set up all the scenes and inside jokes within scenes. Deep within a very simple film about a dysfunctional and truly American family; eating giant paper buckets of fried chicken while dealing with life’s hopes and failures, constantly learning about winners and losers from Greg Kinnear, who was pretty damn good actually as the father, ‘Richard’, there is this only-Americans-can-appreciate sense of dark black humor that comes bursting out from the screen into our own very real lives, trashing on every stereotype and Yanki obsession that our televisually-stained culture has picture-perfectly painted for us, sending this viewer for one, howling into fits of uncontrollable laughter along with my American comrades, together laughing to the point of uncontrollable tears, louder than any of the porteños, themselves laughing as well, just not quite as enthusiastically as us.

Afterwards, at midnight, on a Sunday, we stroll down kitchy Puerto Madero’s sort of made-for-strolling walkway. (1) Although not super hungry at this point, especially after whatever ‘super combo’ the concession stands sold us but feeling the need to maybe chat about the film or just enjoy the nighttime air amongst friends, the age old questions rears its ugly head – what to do, where to eat? I’ll spare you all the cheesy and sticky details but needless to say, we had to skip the first place with open outdoor seating - TGI Friday’s – and instead, settled on Hooters!
1 - Puerto Madero is a still-up-and-coming-but-doing-it-very-well-now-after-15-years neighborhood, where expensive eateries and five-star hotels crowd over a stretch of the river made for upscale porteños and tourists alike, including BA’s floating riverboat casino and the Ecological Reserve; a giant spread of nature, made for man and nature – in the middle of the city – with folks from all walks of life coming together, mainly on the weekends in what is an excellent way to spend one's day. Watching nature, mostly birdlife (there are over 400 different species of birds that can be seen thorough binoculars while traversing the reserve) with our families, friends or lovers. One of the best ways to cruise the neighborhood and reserve is on a bicycle that can be rented from La Bicicleta Naranja | The Orange Bicycle, just down the street from me here in San Telmo.

Some Recent Photos

Bumper sticker on little red car.

ARGENTINA - WAX 038

FLOR TE AMO...

LSD - Designer Discount Bags

Neverland Ferris Wheel - Abasto Shopping

Pretty amazing is the giant ferris wheel inside of the old train station that is now one of BA's top urban malls, filled with higher-end chain botiques, McD's, BK and a host of other standard mall fair.

Industrial Urban Chic - Puerto Madero

The Warewolf of Buenos Aires

Shining like a star - Veronica

Nat whirling in her own kinetic energy

Shrine by the Puente de la Mujer - Puerto Madero

Home Sweet Home!

My new pad with the wide angle lens to make it look even larger than it already is.

Looking directly out my front door on the upper level of 'Los Patios del Sol', which once at one point a conventio or convent. Now its a good mix of cool people from Argentina, Spain, England and of course some Yanks thrown in for good measure. The Gallegos next door are whooping it up right now, cranking some old-school LIVE Blonde!

My actual front door and a partial view of the small balconcito that comes off of my bedroom, which is in the upper portion of the loft space, along with the bathroom. More pics to come.

El Dia de Boludo!

Boludo doesn't really translate and can mean many, many things here and is heard constantly, mostly as a form of slang amongst the younger crowd. Like 'Che', or amigo, or dude, or bro, but perhaps a little more slangish and perhaps slightly crass. I think I've mentioned this before, but literally it comes from the balls - swollen balls - some kind of infection to the male ball sack that makes it swell - bloated balls. Figuratively, its just one of those common slang terms, like buey or cajones in Mexico, always refering to the male genetalia - part of the whole machismo thing I think. Even women, or younger women I should say, use it, commonly, in the streets, referring to each other as boluda. Just an overused but integral part of BA spanish - symbolizing a part of the local culture that is hard to pinpoint, or describe, but is always there.

Ethan stops over at the new place for a mellow bite to eat and a chat, after a few heavy days of writing, finally. Then he springs on me that yesterdays writing was "the best in his life, so far," and then, the fact that it was his 35th birthday. A day late and a few pesos short. So... a few phone calls were made, a few visitors stop over and a battle of home-style poker ensues - its his day, what to do - celebrate this painful but necessary rite of passage. Tommy couldn't be bothered, Luis is in for the long haul and then comes Natalia, in all her raging glory and neighborly goodness.

The night grows on and the game continues, springing out of nowhere, but gaining momentum each round, chips flying back and forth like snowflakes in a soft, quiet storm. A week night, a work night... but somehow, we transcend all that and put Ethan at ease in his 35th year. Feliz Cumpliaños CHE BOLUDO! And keep on that writing, your saving grace, current calling and something you're fucking good at.

Los Patios del Sol

Tonight is my last night in my current apartment here on the Barracas-La Boca border. Had my last stopping-by-on-the-way-home choripan (a completely filling sausage sandwich - $0.75USD) from my favorite parilla in all of Buenos Aires, El Rincon Salteno, located directly across the street from Parque Lezama on Martin Garcia next to the McDonalds. While finishing packing I ran across the street to get some smokes from the ice cream kiosk and the very kind woman that always has this very coolishly bright red hair, forced me to try her favorite flavor being made by the guy right behind her in the back - Sambayon. Oh My GOD! My new favorite too. Next time I'm getting it granizada - little chocolate shavings mixed in. So good and so fresh, the Argentines are damn good at gelato and ice creams.

With limited time to look for a new place to call home, I had to break down, pay a little more and take a place back up in the heart of tourist central, especially on the weekends - San Telmo - half a block down from Desnivel and right across the street from the Universidad del Cine, only a block up from the University of Enginering on Paseo Colon (which is close to where the Cartoneros I work with on my photo shoots live and hang out when they aren't cruising the city recycling what ever it is they may find), host to my favorite bus line - the one-five-two - stopping less than two blocks from my house.

Other than the fact that it seems to be a bit like Melrose Place, and that the only view I have is out my bedroom window, looking directly across at Ethan's current chica's pad, and that it has its share of foreigners living there, which I've been fairly successful at avoiding up till now, its a beautiful Spanish style building with big palm trees in the patio, lots of foliage, great tile work in the entrance, a sweeping wooden staircase to my loft on the 2nd floor. Kitchen with low ceiling which then opens up into a larger open area with a modern, narrow open-faced wood staircase, leading to my bedroom (which has ceilings just low enough for me to bang my head when standing, we're in Argentina) with a bathroom, again with no windows. But there's lots of plants and plants are good.

Thanks to all who helped in one form or another, making this move a relatively easy success, especially Nat for the heads up in the first place (and also for the three little new plants!) and to Luis for chauffering me and my meager possesions back and forth and up and down the stairs. Should definately be interesting, whether retreating into a focused, work-related hibernation, having collegues and clients come over durning semi-regular business hours, or, just hosting a variety of random late night guests at my whim. I think its gonna work out. Probably will be able to use as a personal photo studio with two large windows letting in plenty of natural light. :-)

Buenos Aires de Nuevo - Observaciones

A couple of abbreviated observations in absence of recent posts.

- Looking for a new apartment is not the easiest thing to do in any major metropolitan area, especially as a foreigner in a third world country. But I think I've finally signed a new six month lease tomorrow and that's a done deal for now.

- I still love empanadas dearly and they have almost taken the place of a California burrito in terms of substance, fast, fun and cheap food.

- This city is still crazy as ever, non-stop, 24 hours a day - still amazes me everytime I leave the apartment, regardless of the time or day of week.

- Went to the store the other day and bought four liters of beer, some coffee, 2 liters of Coke-a-Cola, a bottle of Fernet and... a couple;e of other small things and the bill was like $12USD. That never gets old.

- Went carting last weekend, won the race and suffered NO injuries. Pics to come...

- I wish more friends from California could break from their busy lives to experience even just a week of La Pura Vida del Sur.

- And its SPRING! The weather warmeth, the leaves are turning green and its just beautiful right now...

- Other than the standard daily living observations, like the cartoneros, cuidado con los collectivos, mucho trabajo y mucha hoda tambien... life is pretty grand here, for now.

Gracias a todo for reading my blog...

CHAU!
Goyo

Casino Royale

Finally made it down to the floating Casinos in Puerto Madero just below San Telmo’s Parque Lezama with my buddy Luis. He’d been out driving his taxi and I was working late at home. I’ve religiously resisted this temptation for many months but suddenly the timing just seemed right and I’ve been dying to go. I’d tried to go before with some friends but there was a wait out front on a Saturday night and we turned around and left. But tonight is Wednesday and I’m still slowly swinging back into the fact that I actually live in South America and with apartment hunting and all, this temporary distraction was just what the doctor ordered.

The air turned brisk as we parked the taxi in the lot. Entering I could have been in a smaller casino like Bill’s in Lake Tahoe or some riverboat casino out there on the Mississippi river. Several prefectura cops are hanging out front as we head up the gangway in search of newfound fortune with a ninja-like approach. We walked in, turned to the left and cruise down the entire full length of one side of the ship, stopping to watch two Chinese-looking men playing some sort of casino version of poker. After a few hands there I notice another table off to the left, sort of in the traffic lane of employees, who would come and go in regular herds of ten when switching shifts, and the corner where a Russian-looking porteño was playing solo against the cute but stern dealer porteña croupier.

We sat down and immediately I began to win, even before I really understood what was going on. 5 card stud and the dealer is forced to show a card at the beginning. There is a $10AR minimum ante and then you can look at your cards and decide if you want to bet or not. If you choose to bet, it’s double your ante, otherwise you fold. The dealer can only play if they qualify with and Ace, King or better. If you beat the dealer the payout is as follows:

One Pair = 1-1
Two Pair = 2-1
Three of a Kind = 3-1
Straight = 4-1
Flush = 5-1
Full House = 7-1

And I don’t remember anything above except for the Royal Flush which paid 100-1!

Two hours later and a couple hundred pesos richer, I think I’ve figured out how to break the boat. Stay tuned.

A Spring Whirlwind

So... BA follows a regimented pattern of seasons, as opposed to the lackadaisical and tame seasons of California. This week marks the beginning of SPRING! For an up close and personal look, take a peak at our man Robert's excellent expat blog and his impressions and photos of spring in BA. Coming from the west coast of the USofA, its impressive - the changing of the seasons - falling on that specifically designated date, the 'first day of spring', in this case, September 21, 2006.

And... its actually great to be back here in Buenos Aires even though I'm still digesting the fact that I live here as opposed to 'am visiting again' as I approach my one year mark.

Also, I will be moving at the end of this week and think I have finally found a new place to live, which was no easy feat. My sophomoric year here in BA now begins. When driving a taxi cab back in San Francisco many years ago, I would always tell my passengers that living in SF was a two year minimum commitment and I whole-heartedly believe that that applies to most major cities around the world. After two years of getting to know a place you finally arrive at ground zero, with most systems in check and only then can you truly begin to appreciate the city in which you've chosen to live.

Shesheo Facil

"I like big butts... and I can not lie," said one famous Bay Area rapper (or not... actually I think its M.C. Hammer that's from the Bay Area and maybe someone like Sir Mix-a-Lot with the butt song, which is different than Baby Got Back, I think, which i can't remember exactly at this moment who was responsible for that one). I dunno... Freudian slip, what do I know?

So... back in BA, slowing things down after a whirlwind Cali visit and I can't refuse a lomo steak dinner at Desnivel in San Telmo - no stranger to foreigners, right there on Defensa just down from the ever popular Plaza Dorrego. Ethan and I arrive at the same time and are seated promptly. Ensalada mixta, dos lomos bien jugoso (very bloody*), un orden de papas fritas y un chorrizo... y una botella de San Telmo Malbec. Gracias.

Dinner at 10:15pm turns into a stop over at Fugees just up the street and around the corner. BsAs hip hop at its finest, seven nights a week (except when they are shut down as is accustom). I order a sparkling water for eNano's new girl - fast talking British good-looking gal named Nathalie, from London - and then two drinks called 'Amores Perros' for Ethan and I, not realizing that the last in a long list of ingredients is menta which turns out to make the drink blue. Two heaping and fruity-as-ever tropical Hawaiian-looking drinks show up and they are indeed bluer than the blue toenail polish on my toes, minus the decorative dice.

Eventually we say adios to the hip-hop Thursday night scene and suddenly its 3:30am and I drift my way back home. Doesn't happen in San Francisco, San Jose, La or Chicago. More to come for snizzle...

* Honestly, these steaks were so god damn rare, it was like eating sashimi with a slight singe on the outsides, but oh man... so damn rare but so damn juicy and natuarl and pure range fed real Argentina beef, it almost makes me sick just thinking about it.

Lamo Lo-Fi Technology

So much has happened in such a short time. Back in Argentina, my home away from home, ready to get started working in my apartment, which I must sadly vacate in less than one week, and my Banda Ancha goes down right in the middle of a conference call back to the States. Since this is the first time in several months that my broadband Internet connection has failed and after thirty minutes of restarting and restarting, I contact Fibertel only to be informed that yes, the line has gone down and they are sorry for any inconvenience that this may have caused. Being in the third world does have some technological disadvantages at times but I count myself lucky for the months of steady Internet I’ve successfully received thus far and Buenos Aires is still way ahead of the rest of the third world in terms of Internet conectivity.

Unfortunately my whole life these days seems to be online, so in the absence of the Internet I decide to tidy up the apartment, throw together some laundry and head for the Lavarap to get each huge load washed, pressed and folded to the tune of $7AR/load ($2.30 USD) only to find that somehow I’ve locked myself into my apartment! After ten minutes of trying both keys several times both backwards and forwards, I resign to bloggin’, something that is a bit of a sideline hobby/obsession when I have time (and there are still many notes to type up, process and blog about regarding my recent Cali visit including the third and final installment of our fantastic Sierra escape and something that is still being formulated on American culture, Television and consumerism – pretty much one in the same – titled ‘Shiny Happy People’).

Other than a great trip back home to beautiful California with visits in both the Northern and Southern parts, the flight back to BA through Houston was a bit of a shock. Transporting oneself back and forth between the first and third worlds is not to be taken lightly. Fear struck out as I headed for the San Francisco airport asking myself, ‘what the hell am I doing flying back to Argentina again?!’ But leaving the BA International airport and listening to the taxi driver rag on Argentina it all came back. A small pickup poker game with Barbara and Ethan led to a couple of beers up the street at Gibraltar amongst a hip-enough expat crowd and I feel like I’m home.

Now to wait for the banda ancha, beginning thinking about finding a new apartment and then… no wait, first to figure out how to get out of my apartment and then a new era in BA begins.

* - After several calls to the landlord and then to the building super, the door was successfully opened. For anyone that lives in or has visited BA, you’ll know the funny door lock systems we have and how very UNSAFE they are in case of FIRE!

Sierra Escape – Parte Dos

The Argentine lentil soup with chorizo and bacon really wasn’t a big hit with camp, other than the Fletcher Group from down in Fletcher Village (1). “Come on GR, you know its funny,” Steele quips as he tries to pawn off his lemony chicken to the rest of camp, which is sitting around joking about the color and texture of the soup. They are awaiting fajitas (read Mexican) that are standing by as Steele wrangles his chicken off of the stove, freeing it up for the fajitas, which ended up being a real hit with the entire camp, (2) although the Chilaquiles I had whipped up that morning went down well.

Needless to say there we’re some food issues in camp on this trip. MT is talking to Cal about the Trader Joe’s Beef Stew he has brought up and Cal says that he happened to have a Stroganoff type dish last night. “That’s funny!” exclaims MT in only that surprised, wryly MT way. “I had a little Stroganoff thing going on last night TOO!” he blurts out in all earnest. Fletch and I both look at each other and start cranking up.

“I’m happy for myself,” Cal says at some point that evening while the sun sets to the West, still reveling in his solo home run shot in the Long Baller’s Softball game from the night before (3).

Beautiful weather all three days and at 6,500’ in elevation there was not a cloud in the sky the entire time.

Billy Joel comes onto the iTunes rotation (Fletch comes through again with the portable ninja camping speakers) with ‘Only the Good Die Young’. The next song, “Oh What a Night” is completely up for debate. (4)

Sarah and Marina take turns taking pictures of themselves over the container of soup. Desmond Deker comes on the iPod. Steele takes a shot at Fletch about his first snowboarding trip and a ride down the mountain on a snowmobile holding on to the woman’s midsection in front of him for dear life as the navigate down and off the steep and treacherous slope (ouch). Apparently someone had led him up something other than the beginners’ bunny run and he got stuck.

There’s a debate going on to one side of the fire as to the differences between a skank-style dance move and the chicken, but not funky, just the chicken. Cal brings up the similarities between the hustle and the robot. “What about the shopping cart?” MT asks, while he moves across camping bobbing and weaving his head with both hands in front moving forward and back as if he was pushing a cart to some sort of 70’s disco hit. “That looks the same as the baby stroller,” Cal exclaims in a rage of disgust. Continuing on with what looks like MT pushing an invisible cart around camp, he yells, “not when you’re doing this!” as he now adds in the move of pretending to reach out to an invisible shelf on each side of the imaginary isle of a supermarket, snagging goods left and right to add to his cart, bobbin’ and weaving the entire time, this time moving his head to and fro and side to side. [TBC]

1 - Parker Fletcher made it up to the lake for the first time this year at age ten, equipped with his own tent and sleeping bag combo, expanding the Fletcher Love Palace of last year into a full functioning multi-tent complex self-titled ‘Fletcher Village’ located in a pocket up and over a big rock just to the north of the communal camp fire and kitchen. His dad, The Fletch Monster, having flipped our canoe over just a year ago in October, dumping him and myself into the freezing cold fall lake, had never brought little son to the lake and has himself only been up once or twice before.

Parker thoroughly enjoys his weekend, running around, hiking, climbing, swimming, laughing and eating even though he has to endure rounds and rounds of campers shouting “Earmuffs Parker, EARMUFFS!”

2 – The Guizo de Lentejas actually was pretty good. Unfortunately, word spread that I had used lake water to make the stew, which was true. When you bring lake water to a boil for over five minutes, which I did, the boiling water kills off all bacteria and its not an issue. But the rumorous-truth had spread like wildfire and the stew was later nicknamed GR-dia stew. Steele, although he didn’t have a specific name for his Lemony chicken, did state the contents of his marinade several times which included, among other things like red pepper flakes, salt and shallots? Or was that the flank stake, which was very good the night before. Not sure who exactly was responsible for the fajitas but I know Mei Mei was in on it and I think Super Dave as well.

3 – Long Ballers is an eight-year running softball team managed by MT which is mostly people somehow connected to UCSF. This particular night they were playing was my first night back into town. Sarah Wheeler and I sit and chatted for a bit over beers and then got to the game just in the nick of time to see Cal Santos, in an awesome display of force, belt one to deep left field, high-stepping around the base round third fast enough to pull him almost out of the base running line in a sort of ‘whoop, whoop, whoop’ way like you might imagine the Three Stooges doing if they were playing softball.

4 – This was a long debate and fiercely fought by brave and valiant souls. The song we were actually listening to was performed by Franki Valli and the Four Seasons by not only did the iPod say Billy Joel, some members of the camp swore it had to be Billy Joel. I could go on but… well, do you really care?