Bersuit Vergarabat - EN VIVO!

The biggest stadium for the biggest band in Argentina - La Bersuit Veragabat - live in River Plate stadium in front of countless thousands... AND, we went in style in the most lujo private box in the entire place - patrocinado por Coca Cola!

How 'bout a spiked foot to the face?!

Argentine soccer (Futbol in all other parts of the world) gone dumb and DUMBER!!



Sessa kicks out - strike ultima.

Totally Experimental

Arriving in El Paso just on the brink of a huge West Texan thunderstorm, I limped my way through the airport amongst American GI's just returning from Iraq. There were also many German soldiers - something about training the American military for long range artillary.

My Dad picked me up and we headed back to base camp just across the border in New Mexico for a few days off before heading home to Buenos Aires. The big plan - to finally get to fly his Lancair ES - one of the best experimental aircrafts in the world.

Yesterday's weather was lousy but this morning, the sunshine broke through the clouds - here was our window of opportunity. BUT... due to my bum knee, the decission was made for me - Greg will not be able to fly today - just in case of an emergency. And that was it...

Maybe next time... que lastima!!

Southwest Desert Cacti - Anthony, New Mexico

Flying the Robot Glider - TH1

Cops and Coffee

So... staying on this boat on the Oakland estuary just inside the San Francisco Bay while visiting my home state of California from Argentina has been - splendid - to say the very least. Despite the cold wind-swept storms with the beautiful storm clouds bursting through and my bum knee and the damp-factor and no transportation to call my own, today is a lovely warm April spring day, the CA sun is shining and I'm stoked!

Years ago when Super Dave first bought his 29' Ericson next door, the Embarcadero Cove marina was a barren sailors hideaway. With Jerry Brown's mayorship of Oakland now past, his redevelopment legacy lives on - new walkways and parks are springing up all along the waterfront and the newest addition to this hidden marina is STARBUCKS coffee just onshore right next to us. Now, I've always hated Starbucks with a passion - over priced, over roasted consumerist coffee at best - but as I near my fortieth year I'm learning to love more than hate and have made amends with the WalMart giant of retail coffee.

Most mornings that I've slept on the boat, I've hobbled my crippled self up to the welcoming warmth of overweight Americans ordering ridiculous sounding 'specialty coffee drinks' - "I'll have a non-fat, four shot carmel machiatto with a chocolate scone. Did I say whip?" - you get the picture (or maybe not for those in Argentina, one of the very few countries I've been to with NO Starbucks- yet).

But the point is that its become a sort of coven for COPS! Not just local cops but cops from all over. On any given day, there will be agents from the Alameda County Sheriffs, Oakland Police Department (OPD), California Highway Patrol (CHiPs - like Frank and Poncherelo, from TV), Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) Police, special K-9 units from god knows where, Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA - NARCS), the fire department and on and on. But TODAY, there were these two rotund figures coming out of the trees and up the walkway towards Starbucks. At first I couldn't see them very well, and then realized they were in full green camouflage body warrior-type suites. One male, one female, just off of the Coast Guard zodiac parked at the next marina over - with the .50 caliber machine gun mounted up front - you know, for terrorists.

Just wanted to share this with you... the transformation of the USofA towards a full-on police state - thanks GW. Last time I flew into SFO there were military personal patrolling the airport with Humvees and M-16's!! If you need any more info on the loss of free speech in this country, please visit Josh Wolf's website to read about his 7 1/2 months in Federal prison for 'withholding evidence' from the grand jury. Wolf is the longest journalist to be held in contempt of court in US history WITHOUT BEING CHARGED FOR A CRIME! He was just released from prison on April 3rd, welcome back brother.

Bloggin' from Van Kleef's - OAKTOWN

Yeah... so my mobile road warrior wireless program has been great. One of my life goals - take my show on the road - virtual office. And they server beer here!

Unfortunately, I forgot a couple of necessary cables for my photography program - lame - and have had limited time and access to my images that I've shot while on this trip to California.

BUT... thank goodness that Sarah Wheeler busted out her... point and shoot at MT's 40th birthday bash. Here are a couple for the whole world to revel in. What else on the creative front?
Well... the bartertender here at Van Kleef's is a smash hit - Jesse Quattro - a one woman Oaktown wonder (props Jessie)!
Had dinner with my ex-girlfriend Jill Krueger today at Sushi Groove in SF. I'm getting into and out of Yelp.com real quick like. Still staying on a boat in the Embarcadero Cove Marina. Still hobbling around with a cane and moving very slowly. I'm headed to San Jose, CA tomorrow for two days.

I have a crush on Jesse the bartender (always have, always will). Jerry Brown, ex-mayor of Oakland used to sit right where I'm sitting (now top cop for the state of California). Sarah Wheeler rocks! (top pic left). MT's b-day bash was a smash hit (right on Sparky and Steele).

Talking Argentina with the other bar guy (Tom)... I think he's the brother of the other cute blonde bartender Robin (nope). She's heading to South America to visit me and then marry a mate farmer. I'll send her to Paraguay
Nick Cave is doing his thing on the in-house stereo.

Photo's Captions:

1. MT doin' his silly crazy cowboy with my 4x Stettson beaver hat. Sarah Wheeler on the left and Michelle Alexander to the right. HAAY!
2. That's Goyo on the left, sexy-Debra in the middle and the lucious Mei Mei Han on the right.
3. And there they are... the lucky couple. Sparky gave us her incredibly soulful rendition of Amazing Grace by Darren 'The Cool' Dentists backyard fire pit and MT (aka SUPER BLACKSICAN silently went to sleep).
   

Happy 40th my brother.

Weddings and Water

Living out of a rolling suitcase on a thirty-something foot fishing boat (big time thanks Matt and CONGRATULATIONS Sherry on the new family edition*) berthed in the Oakland 'Marina Cove' marina, suffering from an attempt-at-dancing injury last Thursday night while out on the town for Pete's 'last night on the town as a single guy' night, cutting a rug with MT at the Silver Cloud in San Francisco's Marina district and this pretty monster storm is blowing through and its damn cold. The head onshore at the top of what now seems like a long ramp seems really far away, and I can barely even walk. My knee just popped out, all of a sudden-like - sideways - and now I'm on the Disabled List or the 'DL', like those guys in the majors, awaiting proper treatment when I get back to Buenos Aires.**

But I'm wireless on the boat, works going well... and the catalyst that sparked this trip home to California was this monumental wedding - Peter Kruse and Blair Campbell are now MARRIED! And OMG... what a wedding it was. Not only was it a great party with all of my closest friends in beautiful San Francisco settings - The Swedenborg church Hotel along the cable car tracks, with a view across all of and then The University Club at 800 Powell Street at the corner of California on the side of Nob Hill, right below the FairmontSF's majestic skyline (pics soon) - but it was a great union between these two lives, crossing at this point and merging together.

Danny got the squirrel story wrong but it worked anyways, causing a low-level stir that began as a whisper, then rising to a hum across the room as the wedding-revelers dining gracefully at the lovely candle-lit white tables began turning towards one another with expressions of morbid curiosity and 'oh no... this must be a joke. He didn't really do that'. No joke people. We ate squirrel catchatoire down there in Cambria California at Matt's b-party. It was good, just perhaps a wee bit 'rabbity'.

Cal Santos wasn't even the drunk guy, it was Disco Bisket's guy from Ireland with the gay dentist downtown with all the broadway musical posters in his office. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed themselves, even the Shelves. Keith and Mandy hung tight, Fortner and Kimber looked bright and even Dukes and Harper stayed on throughout the night. Pato and I ended up with the latest of the late crowd at the Bamboodha Lounge, where my camera finally died. Pato tried and he tried (even told a couple of girls that I worked for the LA Times) but we finally gave up (last call) and off to the East Bay we did fly.

Now Pete and Blair are in Croatia. SUERTE!

* Sherry gave birth to her second baby girl this morning around 3:30am and all sounded well. Super Dave got called off the Res Ipsa next door to watch Violet Honeysuckle, their first daughter, while Sherry and Matt were down at the hospital.

** From what I've gathered up to this point, there's a one-two week period that patients wait through for the swelling to go down before any medical treatment is performed. If I had health insurance I'd go see a doctor. I was investigating different private health care options in Argentina before I left and was getting ready to sign up and I came back to CA. And in the USofA, helth care is fucking expensive, even if you have a good plan at your job.

*** Thanks to EVERYONE (yes Pato, you too) for all the helping hands since I've been back visiting California.

Coastline Design

sigh...

Epic Poker, Epic Spot, Epic Weekend

That's PTK on the right, with the beard. He's getting married in less than two weeks! One of my closest and dearest friends, he also hunts and eats arboreal, bushy-tailed rodents of the genus Sciurus, of the family Sciuridae - aka SQUIRRELS (best diet in the forrest - nuts and berries)! Go Pete GO and CONGRATS!! Super stoked I could make it up from BsAs for the festivities.

Overview of Tomales Bay, NorCal

Beautiful country indeed - Tomales Bay

Ken Shelf

Ken didn't like his last name and wanted to change it to something more... utilitarian, so he picked 'Shelf'. This picture was taken up on the CA coast at Dillion Beach near Tomales Bay, CA. Visit www.theshelves.com for more.

Carla in San Jose

I'm hot, I'm 22 and I'm Brazilian... ta bien?

El Farolito, San Francisco's Mission District

Some of the best Mexican food in the world is made in California... NOT Mexico and CERTAINLY not Argentina. Que viva carne asada burritos!

Ride the Whirlwind

It’s 1am - Buenos Aires - and I haven’t even started to pack. Since my Argentine visa expired a few months ago and I need to travel back to CA for PTK’s and BC’s wedding, I decide I need to be at the BUE airport early to deal with the immigration officials to ensure a successful departure out of the country… better leave at 4am for a 7am flight.

After a $50AR ($17USD) fine at the airport for the expired visa (sin problemas), more than twenty hours of flying on three seperate flights through Lima and then San Salvador (first time flying into Salvador after sixteen years), I finally make it back to my home state of California, just in time for a super carne asada burrito at El Farolito in the Mission and a Bohemia beer with Cal Santos, who graciously met me at SFO, not only providing a couch to crash on but an entire room to disengage from the whirl.

Then there was one full day to debrief, fight off jet lag and then a good twelve hours of sleep before it was back it – up at 5:30am to catch a 6:20am train to San Jose, just over an hour south of San Francisco for non-stop meetings both day and night with other team mates from across the country. Then a Friday afternoon run back up to SF in hellacious Friday afternoon traffic, on to BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) and then over to West Oakland where DM was waiting in the BMW Z3, up to Pato’s place in Berkeley, hop into the Jag and on up to Dillon Beach on the California coast at Tamales Bay just an hour north of SF. What an amazing place - the northern California coast - like no other place on earth.

But enough about me… here’s some recent pics.

Bush is Back in Latin America

GW is heading south again but won't make Argentina one of his stops after his last visit in November of 2005 when Argentines took to the streets in protest and burned McDonalds and the Bank of Boston. Or perhaps the Bush twins made such a scene when they came here to celebrate their 25th birthdays - for two full weeks - that he's not too eager to return.

Check out this article on his jorney south, quoting the President saying "The working poor of Latin America need change, and the United States of America is committed to that change." Really?

The article also mentions Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, "a fiery leftist who recently called Bush the "king of liars," [will] also will be on the road. He'll host an anti-Bush rally in Buenos Aires, Argentina, on Friday in advance of Bush's stop in neighboring Uruguay." Can't believe I'm gonna miss this one!

Bummer in the Bombonera for Boca Jrs.

Got up late, threw on some clothes and cruised down to La Boca with Luis to get tix for todays futbol match against arch rivals San Lorenzo. We found two entradas for $35AR each on the street, bought some Boca fanwear - gifts for friends back home - and sat down at the street parilla on Almirante Brown, the one set against the open fields in front of the stadium just down from the Casa Amarilla and macked downn on vacio (tri tip) sandwhiches. DAMN they were good!

This was my third Boca Jrs. match and I finally made it to the bara brava or La 12 or La Hinchada de La Boca, the hard-core Boca Jrs. fan base inside La Bombonera. Despite the riot cops scatterd everywhere, it was pretty tranquilo. I only saw one guy get robbed, no beatings, a few people nearly trampled when everyone is forced to jump, got pushed by the same riot cops with the batons on the way out, pero mas o menos todo bien.

Unfortunately, Boca got slaughtered 3-0 and it was painful to watch. Afterwards, we saw a gringo walking with a couple of friends amidst the throngs of people escaping La Boca get jacked by three dudes passing in the opposite direction. One guy grabed him around the neck and pulled him to the ground while the other two tried to strip his pockets of thier contents as his friends stood by watching, stuned. Just as I was about to run over to help, he struggled free, got up and they just looked around and walked away, with nothing.

We hit El Rincon Salteño for a couple of beers, a chori, grilled provoleta and some excellent french fries. Que dia!

The Great Continental Divide

Quick reminder - Argentina is the southern most country in South America, below Brazil in the east and bordering Chile to the west and Bolivia and Paraguay to the north and east again. South America, refers to the continent of South America, right? Actually, no... you see, it depends.

After hanging out one night at The Shamrock Pub in Recoleta last week, the continental dividing issue reared its ugly head in casual conversation with a couple of local porteñas asking me where I was from.

Geography Pop Quiz: How many continents are there? But wait... for all of you people up there in North America that just answered SEVEN, we, you're fellow Americans down here in SOUTH America classify Argentina as part of just - America. Argentines are taught that there are FIVE continents NOT including Antarctica.

The online dictionary.com site (Random House Unabridged, 2006) gives this definition of continent - "one of the main landmasses of the globe, usually reckoned as seven in number (Europe, Asia, Africa, North America, South America, Australia, and Antarctica)."

Several variations and definitions on how to define and count the continents exist. The best resource I've found is this excellent wikipedia article, saying that there are three models, five, six and SEVEN continents in the world.

One of my biggest shifts in perspective after having lived outside of the United States for over a year now is that I'm beginning to feel much more like a citizen of the world as opposed to my country of nationality - USA. Nationality in the 21st century has to be seen globally - perceptively speaking - IMHO.

And what's up with Europe getting classified as a continent when the land mass continues into Asia? Again, it depends on your perspective, whether you're a geographer and see India as a separate continent, a plate tectonics expert looking beyond the visible land mass or grew up in Latin America which considers itself simply as American.

And what does it mean to be an American? Down here in South America, we feel just as American as those who think that being American means people from the United States only, surely a bit limited in perspective, no? Sure, we've all probably thought about this at one point or another on some trip somewhere (ie - is Central America part of North or South America)?

But when it comes up in the context of dividing continents for Argentines, they get very upset when I merely communicate that we in the U.S. learn there are SEVEN continents. They immediately and quite obviously perturbed answer back - "NO, you Yankee's can't go dividing up America. We're the SAME as you!" You see how this gets complicated? Also, in Spanish, the correct term for someone that is from the United States is Estado Unidense, literally a citizen from the United States. And there lies the dichotomy - there is no equivalent word in English - we just say American.

* - the photos above were both taken at the Valle de la Luna National Park in the North of Argentina on a trip with Dave and Mei last year.

Yo Tomo

"Tomo para no enamorarme. Me enamoro para no tomar." La Bersuit Vergarabat



IMHO (in my humble opinion) Bersuit is the best band in Argentina. Thanks for that tip Burro.

The Sheltering Argentine Sky

Laying on the couch, sweating my ass off from what feels like – from what I’ve read recently – Dengue fever, the afternoon wind lightly rustling the broad leaves of the twin palms out in the center of the courtyard patio, just cracking open David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest for the first time (very self-indulgent at 1,079 pages) and my lovely but sometimes slightly nutty neighbor Natalia nearly startles me to death as she enters the room through the door that has been left open to help cool this fever, standing there backlit and basking in the evening South American sunshine.

“May I store a suitcase in your place for just an hour… till Web gets here? The police may show up at my place any second now,” she adds matter-of-factly, in that lower-class London accent of hers, emphasis on second.

“What’s in the suitcase?” I ask, out of curiosity more than anything.

“Oh… just papers and such from the office, nothing much,” she replies with a devilish school-girl smile.

I chide her about making her whole international lawyer conspiracy drama into much more than it really is and the fact that her apartment won't be searched and she won't be hauled off to jail. She agrees.

Off she waltzs and I go back to the boat-anchor of a book to stave off boredom while sweating off this nasty fever and sore body. I had just finished Graham Greene's The Honorary Consul, set on the scenic shores of Corrientes, Argentina up on the Rió Paraná (1) across from Paraguay - the honorable Dr. Eduardo Plarr and of course the 'honorary' consul himself - Señor Charley Fortnum and his 'shipmasters measures' of whiskey. The first time I tried to read it I had put it down in disgust after 40 or 50 pages, not enjoying the writing style at all. No sense of place - I've been to Corrientes, spent the night there with Sam Slaughter on the way to Paraguay once - but now, the writing seemed too formal, dry... British. But the second time I picked it up I could hardly set it down and thoroughly enjoyed it, my first by Graham Greene.

Mr. Foster Wallace on the other hand, that's my contemporary meta-fiction guy. Two percent of the way into the book and I know I like it, maybe not quite as much if I didn't like tennis but probably still so. Its like a giant never-ending lollie pop as opposed to something not only just long but truly remarkable such as Gravity's Rainbow or even Don Quixote for that matter. I don't know. But I'm gonna make the time.

Natalia comes back in wheeling this enormous, larger than life GIANT roller suitcase, almost as big as herself, and carefully stands it up in the corner, all luggage and ID tags removed.

"So how you feelin' then?" she asks, looking at my pathetic figure sinking deeply into the couch. "Not so hot, eh?" pun probably not intended.



1 - These pictures were taken on a short road trip to Rosário, which is also along the Río Paraná but much closer to Buenos Aires than Corrientes.

Nothing….

Nothing to say, really… and I’ve got no new interesting photos to post either. I can say that I think the worst of the minor aches and pains and scratches from the car crash – more mental than anything I suppose - are over. And supposedly I get to pick up my repaired 17-40 f/4 wide angle zoom lens AND flash today from the authorized Canon service center here in Buenos Aires - $130USD out the door - cheaper than insurance!

Also, Boca Juniors soccer team lost last night during penalty kicks to their famous BA rivals – River. Other than that, I am both very thankful and relieved that these January mishaps are finally over and now its time to move on to February 2007… and happy 74th birthday Pop!

Diane Arbus - Alive in Hollywood?

OK… so no one wants to hear more ‘war on terrorism’ political diatribes, fine. Me neither. So I decided to break up my Saturday afternoon day-off and get out of the computer chair and off the couch… recovering, I call it – from the crash - still can't believe that we're OK. I make my way down to the local Cinemark Puerto Madero alone to see what Hollywood has sent us this month... there's some new film called ‘Babel’ with Brad Pitt and Gael García Bernal. Someone said I might like it and since I have no idea what its about, always better that way, might was well check it out - a wild card.

Arriving ten minutes early I grab my ticket and try to pay with a one hundred peso bill, always an issue, anywhere. She gives the standard, “nada mas chico?” line. No, I lie… I had a twenty but needed the change. So then she talks me into a soda and peanut M&M’s, right there at the ticket counter, far from the concession stands - fine. I redeem my soda coupon at the snack bar downstairs on the way to the actual entrance and then talk myself into a medium pochoclo – popcorn – salted or sugared. Salted of course, never get ‘sugared’ again! “Do you have butter?” No she says but don’t worry, there’s lots of oil on it. OK.

I get in to the theatre a a bit early but there’s already a fair amount of people, mostly grandparents with their very young grandchildren, mostly to the rear of the theatre. I grab a seat away from all them towards the front and my experience is already ruined by the presence of so many noisy children, even before the credits. I look to the cinema and a good film as a complete escape, from the entire outside world.

After a ton of previews and Coca-Cola ads, and more previews... the movie finally starts. No wait… another preview, JESUS! This one if for ‘A night at the Museum’ with what’s his face… Ben Stiller. But it’s a long preview, with credits and finally I realize that somehow I’ve entered the wrong theatre. Damn! I think briefly about giving some whacked-out mortgage-paying Hollywood blockbuster a chance, mindless entertainment perhaps. But no way… I’m gonna hate it and I came to see this other film that I know nothing else, but I like the title at least.

Finally I make my move to get up and walk the walk of shame to the back of the theatre, careful not to miss a step and biff it there in front of all now watching me, illuminated by the rays coming from the projector, my soda basically empty as is basically the case with the popcorn… and the M&M’s, all during the previews! After some discussion and apologies on both sides about the closeness and confusion with door number 4 vs. 5 which is right next to it but with a hidden sign, sort of I am redeemed. I thought both doors were for theatre 4, for sure. I get a voucher to return, anytime before Feb. 10. This whole movie afternoon was a rare, spontaneous fluke event for me – just up and going to the cinema in the middle of a Saturday afternoon – SOLO - to some random moview I know nothing about but am curious to see. I almost never to I go to the movies alone… but enough, that’s what happened.

There was a poster for some film in the hallway with Robert Downey Jr. and what’s her face… Nicole the red-head - Kidman and it looked like they were getting steamy. At the bottom of the poster it said something about Diane Arbus. (1) Gotta check that one out for sure, regardless.

Also one of the trailers I caught while waiting for the wrong film was for Robert Altman’s last film called, in Spanish “A night of magical radio,” or something like that. I think its called ‘End of the Show’ in English or maybe even just “Prairie Home Companion with Garrison Keeler.” I heard from a couple of close die-hard Altman fans that they refuse to go see it. Come on… its his LAST film!!

1 - Arbus was a very important American photographer that for a long time I could never really even begin look at her photos - too intense - too personal. Finally I began to be less afraid of what she had seen and photographed, before she ended her career early by suicide in something like 1972. Time for another trip to El Hospital Borda and their world famous Radio Colifata, the only thing I've ever seen that comes close to displaying the humanity and horror of serious 'institutionalization - third world style - of something similar to what she had photographed.

US on its way to attack Iran

Did I miss something? Is Iran harboring Bin Laden? Were they behind 9/11? Or has Bush already decided to attack, maybe for the same reasons as he's torn apart Iraq - "Our God is mightier than your God" - because they are predominately Muslims? Is this really over oil, terrorism, 'regional stablility', 'democracy,' or is it just more geo-politicking from the right-wing war-mongering neo-cons? Maybe the move to send a second group of American destroyer battleships into the region, while Iran reinforces its border is as the author mentions, to 'stage' another Gulf of Tonkin Incident?

Tough questions for a US President with his lowest approval rating ever - 28%. Its hard for most other people of the world to understand how HALF of the voting poplulation in America re-elected him in the first place, but not that hard when you look at history, espeically on the side of the Americans. Of course most folks know that his big daddy - Bush Senior - was head of the CIA throughout the 70's, helped Regan route out evil in places like Afghanistan and Central America throughout the 80's and now - the Middle East - first Bush Senior and now his wild gun-toting elder son, GW. The Bush family and GW, now the most successful political dynasty in American history, resemble nightmarishly similarities to JR on the popular TV show of the late 1970's Dallas (1) gone hay-wire (talk about political propaganda)!

And the saddest part is that the other half of the country that didn't vote for GW Bush is now elated by the fact that the democrats control the house and the senate. I say SO WHAT?! Hillary's probably behind the attack too... its bigger than one person in charge of the oval office: its our way of life - to preserve our way of life - no matter what the cost... ancient 20th centrury thinking.

WAKE UP PEOPLE OF AMERICA! Pretty soon we will not be able to travel ANYWHERE as people around the world, even here in Argentina, scoff at us Yanquis and our EVIL global-imperialistic ways, accusing of us of trying to take over the world, the new colonialists.

1 - Back in 1978, DALLAS was described quite simply - and as about as quietly as it began on the box - as a series 'of dramatic feuds in the land of the big rich.'

The Dallas team insist the show has nothing to do with capitalism, big oil, rich v. poor, the abuse of power or any social issues at all., (They may be right; there's very (little sign, for instance, of the large Vietnamese population of Dallas in the show). It's just about emotions, say the production team. And as everything in Texas is always said to be larger, 'bigger, huger, than life, so is Texas emotion.

Reality Shifts and then - BAM!

One of many, many things about BsAs that ceases to amaze me is the uncontrolled intersections – mostly smaller streets in the neighborhoods, in-between the big Boulevards and Avenidas, subject to cars coming from both directions with NO STOP SIGNS or SIGNALS at all - drivers from both directions usually reducing their speed to a semi-slow and then, the obligatory glance, either right or left, depending on which way the perpendicular street is running, to double check that your not going to smack into an oncoming car, all over town – everywhere – especially when traversing the city at night - OJO! (1) No one really drives fast in this city, especially on the smaller neighborhood streets... but at night, with less traffic and more drunks, shit happens, never while I’m watching it seems, but it happens… you hear about it, read about it in the papers, watch it on that Cronica TV.

But its also about perspective… and sometimes lack there of. Auto accidents are up there as far as the number one cause of death, at least in the States, mostly drunk driving I think. But we’re in the back of a taxi, finally making our way home at the end of a semi-late night (for a weekday) and were cruising along traquilo with an older taxi driver along a major Avenida, Thomas and I in the back chatting away about nothing, ready for bed.

Suddenly as we pass through a major intersection, making a right hand turn, another car mystically appears in my left peripheral vision, on Thomas’s side of the car, hurdling towards us. The taxi driver mutters some quick curse, I think quickly that maybe he’s gonna hit us but not too bad, but not on my side of the car and then BANG! Everything about what ‘they’ say – car crash survivors perhaps - about car crashes is true and I’ve been through a few now myself; even have a scar on my lip from a minor one in college on a trip out to Vegas from San Diego. Time bends, slows to a grinding slow-motion film scene, almost a series of still photographs but moving, very slowly. But this was a CRASH – BAM, SMASH, SKID, HALT! In a split second it was over. Everyone OK? Miraculously, yes. HOLY SHIT!

The bruise on my leg continues to swell as I write, and the knot on my noggin is still there, but no blood. I start to upload a new photo gallery while waiting for sleep to set in, with the adrenaline still pumping strongly through my tired veins. And I’m compelled to write this down - now - something about the randomness of the crash – any crash - and the lucky cards that all four of us directly involved were dealt – todo bien. Not with the cars, but with us, the survivors of a damn good CRASH!

Afterwards, our driver said we had a solid green as we turned to the right. The other driver apologized… and that was basically that. Thomas was angry and I was thankful, but wanted to leave. It’s never a good idea to hang around for the cops, not in Argentina at least, not under normal circumstances. I didn’t see the light, but felt as if indeed we had the ‘right of way’. But once an ‘accident’ happens – and its called ‘an accident’ for good reason - usually someone is at fault; if not in full, some percentage of parts of wrong-doing that the insurers or cops figure out later. But blame comes up short in moments of crises, of free flowing adrenaline, of who did what and why? Usually someone is hurt and will go to hospital, fewer times, everyone escapes without injury, like tonight. Someone screwed up, but at this point the why doesn’t matter so much - that’s the nature of accidents – there was an error. Even though most all accidents are avoidable – they still happen - people die all the time in cars.

But in the moment of crises, and now during this after-math moment of resolution, calm heads are needed, to end the freakish semi-nightmare that we’ve just barely escaped - not spectators that happened to ‘be right there’ at the moment of impact, but IN THE ACTUAL DAMN CRASH! - through a controlled intersection where we had the right of way. Maybe the elderly taxi driver with younger reflexes could have steered clear, not expecting the other car to keep coming at us with no signs of slowing what-so-ever, doesn’t matter – it happened, like life.

I left my number with the cab driver and said that we’d give a statement if necessary – but we were on our final mission – home - and instead of hanging around for the cops as they sun began to rise behind a blanket of light rain clouds, it was CHAU, were OUT!

Its been a bit of a strange start to 2007, but hey… I’m in Argentina, Latin America – Buenos Aires. That was the idea in the first place and yeah, sometimes there’s lomos de burros in the road (the humps on the back of some donkeys) – speed bumps. But… life goes on, with or without us. Them’s the facts and there’s no other way round it. We survive, or not.

(1) The first time I truly feared for my life here, fully comprehending the frightening game of ‘is there a car coming from the other direction, or not’ was crossing from Encarnacion, Paraguay back over to Posadas, Argentina, on the back of a moto-taxi – that’s a motorcycle taxi – thrilling and maybe a little dangerous in itself. Not racing but cruising through the empty night-time streets of town, always hitting the brakes pretty hard at most major intersections but never really slowing down much on the side streets, the ones with no traffic signals or stop signs. Fearlessly we cross town.

Even when there is the occasional stop sign, NO ONE observes it, not even the bus drivers. But its night, the streets are empty and the fear is overcome by some irrational, ‘I’m invincible’ type of illogical confidence. And then every once in a while, there’s an oncoming car, from the other direction. Now what? The rule is – the car to the right has the ‘right of way’ – which is true in most countries but I finally figured out why, here in Buenos Aires, by a fellow taxi driver.

When two (or more) cars approach and intersection, arriving at the same time, stopping at a controlled stop-sign intersection, it’s always the car to the right that has ‘the right of way’. Both cars acknowledge that they’ve arrived at the same time but the ‘someone’ eventually gives way to the car to the right. The idea behind this rule is this… if two cars are crossing and neither stop at the intersection, crossing at the same time, the car to the right is going to hit the car to its left on the passenger side, protecting the driver, perhaps.

Drivers around the world can be safe if they always give way to the right, and if something goes wrong, it better than getting pounded on the left side, like we did tonight. Its actually pretty amazing that nothing ‘really happened’ minus the few minor aches and pains that will no doubt accompany tomorrow.

El Salvador - Terror Never Dies

When most people think of Central America, they perhaps think of tropical Costa Rica - to attend a friends wedding maybe, a language school in Guatemala, scuba diving in Belize. Happening across a friend's blog recently who is in El Salvador right now, writing and blogging... and learning, I was taken back to that beautiful but war-torn country. I was there too, in El Salvador, where she is now, out in Morazán, first in November of 1989 briefly, and then back in February of 1991, when it was more than just a memory, it was still happening - the war, the terror, the horror - it was intensifying just before the cease fire that took place in 1992.

I met Rufina Amaya Marquez, mentioned in journalist Mark Danner's article called 'The Truth of El Mazote', (1) in the Colomoncagua refugee camp on the Honduran/Salvadoran border in 1989. Steve Levy and I interviewed her, listened to her story, the same story she told over and over, always in tears. We were making a documentary on the refugees existence in exile, almost ten years had passed, forced out of their own country by war and repeated bombings from the US backed Salvadoran military, now living in well-run, organized refugee camps in Honduras. I was twenty two years old then.

But Rufina's story is different than the rest of the survivors of the war. She was the sole survivor of the now-famous Masote Massacre, where almost one-thousand civilians were slaughtered; like those random stories you hear about from bizarre places around the world - like Cambodia, Rawanda, Darfur - but this one at the hands of the elite Atlacatl battalion of the Salvadoran military, trained and hardened killers - supported and trained by the United States of America, in our own back yard. They annihilated her entire village while she hid in a ditch and watched the slaughter, the innocent men, women and children being riddled with bullets, chopped at with machetes - her entire family killed right before her very own eyes.

Now the town sounds like a make-shift monument to the massacre. There is also a museum dedicated to the struggles of the FMLN in Perquin, Morazán where we also visited back in 1991, accompanied by the guerrillas themselves when it was just another bombed out town in Morazán, under their control. El Salvador was a hard experience for me, one that significantly transformed my life, and continues to do so, even to this day - but not as hard as it was for the people living there, fighting on both sides of the conflict. And Carolyn's right about 'no tourists go to El Salvador', (2)their problems only grew with the end of the war.
(Photo Courtesy of the Perquín Municipal website)

But today, El Salvador - lit. The Saviour - marches onward. And for the rest of the world that ever votes, supports or even sympathizes with ANY tyrannical government, including our own, never forget about our brothers and sisters in El Salvador, including a stop-over next time you're in Central America.

(1) - a highly detailed moment by moment account on the facts of what 'really' happened leading up to and duringmassacacrel massacacre. Link also available on Carolyn's blog above.

(2) - very recent article on CNN.com about the guerrillas current fight for tourism.

I don't want to grow up

A song by Tom Waits

"When I’m lyin’ in my bed at night
I don’t wanna grow up
Nothing ever seems to turn out right
I don’t wanna grow up
How do you move in a world of fog that’s
always changing things
Makes me wish that I could be a dog
When I see the price that you pay
I don’t wanna grow up

I don’t ever want to be that way
I don’t wanna grow up
Seems that folks turn into things
that they never want
The only thing to live for is today…
I’m gonna put a hole in my T.V. set
I don’t wanna grow up
Open up the medicine chest
I don’t wanna grow up
I don’t wanna have to shout it out
I don’t want my hair to fall out
I don’t wanna be filled with doubt
I don’t wanna be a good boy scout
I don’t wanna have to learn to count
I don’t wanna have the biggest amount
I don’t wanna grow up
Well when I see my parents fight
I don’t wanna grow up
They all go out and drinkin all night
I don’t wanna grow up
I’d rather stay here in my room
Nothin’ out there but sad and gloom
I don’t wanna live in a big old tomb on Grand street
When I see the 5 oclock news
I don’t wanna grow up
Comb their hair and shine their shoes
I don’t wanna grow up
Stay around in my old hometown
I don’t wanna put no money down
I don’t wanna get a big old loan
Work them fingers to the bone
I don’t wanna float no broom
Fall in love, get married then boom
How the hell did it get here so soon
I don’t wanna grow up"

Written by Tom Waits & Kathleen Brennen, also sung by the Ramones and the Donna's (follow the Donna's link to read about Palo Alto, CA 'ramones-like' punk rock teenage chick band with photos I shot of them back in 1999. Also check out Gena Arnold's piece on the Ramones cover of the song or watch the video on You Tube). For full effect, I recommend that you click the You Tube link and then read along from the lyrics above.

Tom Waits is my favorite singer/songwriter to date... along with Manu Chau. And I love this song.

"There’s Been An Accident..."

Shortly after waking up early on this particular Sunday morning – 9:30am – the phone rang – there’s been an accident, three people in the hospital in grave danger, fighting for their lives. We’ve been given your number as the emergency contact. What?! This is Sergeant Castillo, “what is your name?” Goyo. We’ve got three cell phones here, a Nokia, Samsung and Erickson… do you have a friend with one of these phones? Uh… can you speak just a little slower, my castellano isn’t perfect.

I had just gone though a similar experience, receiving a call from the states saying Ethan had fallen ill in the Andean town of Huancayo, Peru... ‘unconscious, not breathing and ‘blue as a Smurf,’’ the doctor told me over the phone that first day. Now I’m thinking, ‘what has he gotten himself into this time?’ I won't even go into the other night...

The guy on the phone - short and podgy I imagine - proceeds to explain the situation in a rather exasperated tone, spitting out what basic information he has in rapido, staccato, Castellano. We’ve got a male, 30 – 40 years of age… what kind of hair does your friend have, short long…? the Sergeant inquires. ‘Could it be a guy named Ethan,” I ask? I think he’s got a Samsung phone, he’s 35… real short hair?’ YES, that is the man we have here! He goes on and on but now I only half-believe what he is saying. How far from the hospital in Boca am I? Ten blocks.
Thinking all this very strange and bit too early for this particular Sunday morning… and who is this guy, really, and how does he have my phone number? And then I remember an email Tommy had sent me awhile back – OJO CON ESO! – it was titled, BEWARE OF THIS! It warned against some scam where people call up and say there’s been an accident and they need to get as much information as possible because this is the only emergency contact phone number they have and lives are at stake.

The guy continues on and on… now something about a car riddled full of bullets and how his friend was involved also - took two slugs in the stomach and is gonna die. “What is your name and rank again sir, if you don’t mind my asking? And which police division are you with?” Finally he stated that he was part of some sort of intermediary group, and then he asked me for money, or else they would shoot my friend Ethan.

Hmmm… Ethan’s always saying that’s what he really wants, a bullet in the head. But now I chalk the whole thing up as a scam indeed and immediately hang up. I call Ethan, waking him up and all is well… “And I wasn’t even drinking last night,” he adds, just to make sure I believe him.

Tijuana or Bust

Despite having smashed up my camera pretty good when it hit the ground the other night, slipping off my shoulder with a good WHACK onto the hard pavement, and having apparently lost my bank card, with three months of rent due next week, I will persevere. This is the second time this has happened in perhaps twenty years - photographers aren't perfect and gear does get stolen, lost and damaged pretty easliy. Last time, more than five years ago, I only broke the flash mount which could not be repaired and ended up buying a new flash. This time the flash mount broke in the same exact place but ALSO the 17 - 40mm wide angle zoom lens that I use about 80% of the time sheered clean in half. Damn! There's a chance the lens might be repairable but this changes up the current photo program a bit.

But in the interest of keeping with the photo theme part of this blog and in order to keep it interesting, I am pushing forward in 2007. The accompanying photos are a random selection from the growing archive, now going through pictures from November of last year when I semi-permanently moved to Buenos Aires.

Now that New Years and the holidays have come and gone its time to get back to work, which includes continuing progress on the hyperlinked website above, photos, writing, blogging, planning and staying focused. (More on the Tijuana reference later).