Paraguay - The Final Frontier

Ciudad del Este, Paraguay
18:45 - Wednesday, May 31, 2006

It´s been a long time since I´ve been in a true third world country the likes of Honduras, Salvador and Nicaragua and Paraguay sure is a lot more like those places than it is like Argentina, especially when one is held sequestered in Buenos Aires. This is gonna be short even though there is soo much to say since the Interent doesn´t quite work as well here as it does elsewhere but Paraguay is now my new favorite country!

Having heard many stories from Ethan when he was here a year ago on a month long photo trip for Lonely Planet (which didn´t actually pan out so well for him in terms of LP and the photos, even though the photos were good) and having read only a little of what Carolyn worte in the LP South America Shoestring Guide (props on the hotel recommendations here in Ciudad del Este, we like the Hotel Munich even though the American style buffet is more European than anything but I think at least four of the five places you recommended are on the same street within a block from The Munich and that there are plenty of other choices closer into the the heart of the city... I know, I know, never enough time or money to really 'tell it like it is'),I really didn´t know anything about this place except the one day I was here in Encarnacion last year with DP and Aimee, and that was a great day even though we did have to bribe our way into the country (US Citizens coming to Paraguay now need a $45USD Visa for a one-time entry good up to ninty days which can be obtained at the consulate in Posadas). Now I feel as if alot of the speculation about Paraguay and especially Ciudad del Este has been put to rest, at least in my mind and that I´m much more up on what´s really going on here. A few thoughts as there is soo much to tell...

- Paraguayan´s love to burn things, especially trash
- Paraguayans are very friendly, more so than Argentinians
- Ciudad del Este up here in the lawless triple border region is NOT nearly as dangerous as most Argentinians say OR as bad as the guide books make it out to be
- I´ve seen more guns in CDE than anywhere else since El Salvador
- It´s NOT very easy to sell a car with American plates for the price the car is worth in say Argentina (and even harder to do IN Argentina)
- There was a big protest today on the bridge to Brasil that shut it down
- I can buy a gun here if I want to, even an AK-47
- Most security people in the small corner stores have bullet proof vests and pump action pistol grip twelve guage shotguns (go Wheeler!)
- I had the best haircut of my entire life by a very cute Paraguayan that even used a straight razor behind my ears! ($2USD)
- The local currency is NOT called pesos, but rather Guarani and $6,000 Guarani is equal to $1USD ie - lunch today for two cost $15,000 Guarani but was really only $2.50USD
- People here don´t really have much Guarani and 95% of Paraguayans actually speak Guarani, which is an indigenous or 'Indian' language (Ethan, maybe you can comment on what you told me about the Paraguayan Dictator´s son that thought he was Napolean and something why everyone here speaks Guarani
- A guy showed us a photo that he took last week of a ten foot long Anaconda Python (which is small since the average length is nineteen feet) being held by like himself and five kids, although it didn´t have a head
- Did I say its my new favorite country?

By the way, props to LP author Lucas something or other for the 'Authors Choice' Gran Hotel Turismo recommendation in Corrientes, from the most recent LP Argentina guide. Although you failed to mention ANYTHING about the second largest border crossing into Paraguay over the bridge from Posadas, the Casino that was right next to the Gran Hotel Turismo in Corrientes (that you also failed to mention) was AWESOME, even after we both lost all of our money and it was 5AM! (I´ll have to write about the two 19 year old Argentinian hitch hikers we picked up on the way to Posadas later... all´s I can say is that they were a lot of fun to pick up.)

Revolution!, NOT Independence

I stand corrected that yesterday el 25 de Mayo was not the day of Independence, which is the 9 of July, but rather six years earlier marking the day the revolution begin. I have yet to read one history book on Argentina other than their recent dealings with the World Bank and the IMF so am pretty clueless other than a very general picture that goes back a few hundred years.

But, that's not what this post is about. It's about two things, maybe three.

The first and simplest is that as dumb as it may sound, I went karting again, tonight, just a little while ago, go karting on 250cc machines of molded plastic seats and heavy steele frames.. As many of you know, some serious rib injuries occurred that last time I did this with Ethan and the boys a few days before my trip back home to the States almost a month ago. But, the offer was there with private transportation to and from the track and I couldn't not defend my title and just couldn't say no. Plus this cute Australian was going as well. Mistake. Even though I won the first 30 lap race which meant that the other three had to pay my $35 peso entry fee, my ribs were hurting, more than they had since the previous accident. But after the second and final race I just didn't care... tearing around that track, lap after lap, trying to maintain position, defend my lead, pass the slower drivers without crashing or hitting the wall... It's simply brilliant. But now I'm achin' pretty good, but not as bad as the last time, just slowed down the healing process.

But the second more important recent development is this road trip I've signed to go on to Paraguay, Ciudad del Este. specifically. Sam needs to sell the car he drove from Philly to BA which as US plates and no one here will touch it. Google Ciudad del Este, Paraguay and you'll find that by most reports its the wildest and mostly lawless city in Latin America where anything is possible - anything. And I've got this opportunity and have been wanting to go and now I have a ride and we leave today at 4pm. Photos, gonna shot a lot of photos of this strange, anonymous and very unknown danger zone. They say there is Al-Queda, mafia, CIA... the whole works.

And the third thing... don't remember. But living way down south here in Argentina continues to be like no other place in the world I've ever been and is just so hard to describe, or even live. It takes being open to opportunities, chances, calculated risks, heart and balls - pelotas. And it just keeps on getting better...

Independence Day - El 25 de Mayo

5.24.06
Barrackas, Buenos Aires

It’s the day before Independence Day here in Argentina. Most of the some 42,000 taxis that roam the streets day and night are proudly flying the Argentine flag. A blind man gets on the semi-crowded bus I’m taking across town and starts his way towards the back. I can barely ride the bus with good eye site, but he with his cane and all starts passing out pens to the passengers, pens to write with, pens that say Staples on them. He starts into his delivery about what quality they are and there can be no value on these pens. I take one, a red one as do most of the other passengers. Thinking to myself I can never have enough pens I listen carefully for the price, but it’s never given. I see other passengers digging for change and I figure its more of the sliding scale donation plan. I shell out a peso but tell him that I want a blue one, not red. He asks me if he’s holding a blue one – no. I’ll take a black one I as I trade the red for black. The guy across from me gave him two pesos for his pen.

Luis, Ricardo, Tommy and Sam, these are some of my Argentine friends. One is actually my roommate and is paying his rent (or will if allowed by the landlord) by writing for the web site project for me on the side. He drove his car from Philly to BA, that’s why I hired him. Sam Slaughter… that helped also.

Marina, a very good and dear friend of mine has taken ill with a piece of wood that fell into her eye while tending to her guinea pigs. Now she’s in a world of pain and can’t see… it befuddles me how these things happen to us, either by our own actions or by forces that we can not control. It’s been a rough year for her she tells me, ‘especially since I met YOU!’ she adds. I feel bad and there's not much I can do... but I think I'll see her tomorrow if she's up for it. We can't even watch a movie which is our favorite thing to do. She's up on her films more so than I these days.

The heater is working but drips water out on the balcony which then drips down right in front of the main door to the apartment building, which then gets the tenants into an uproar as if I’m not being a responsible tenant. That is to be fixed on Sunday or Monday but for now the bucket catches most of the drips as long as I remember to dump it every so often.

Today is now el 25 de Mayo, Independence Day, but since most Argentines don’t feel very independent of foreign influence and have serious doubts about their current, past and future governments they don’t really celebrate as say Americans would the 4th of July or even Argentines do on say Christmas or New Years Eve, going crazy with the pyrotechnics. What a country, todavia.

Oh, and here's a few snapshots from my trip back to California http://grphoto.net/sftrip/index.htm

Cannonball Run

It got down to five degrees Celsius yesterday, which I think is about forty-some degrees Fahrenheit (you can do the calculation) and a nasty cold has descended upon me. But, there’s heat in my humble apartment and I’ve got new tunes on my iTunes. My hand-me-down iPod died the day before I returned to BA, which is the third hard drive to fail on me in the last six months, not including the one that disappeared with fifty gigs of photos that weren’t backed up because I was on the road up in La Rioja with Ramiro, La Rafa, Dave and Mei.

Finally I slept last night more than I have in the past month… almost twelve hours in a row. But when the door bell rang for the tenth time at 8:00am I had to get up to tell whoever it was that was ringing my doorbell at 8:00am to go the hell away and then the buzzer at my actual apartment door rang. Looking through the security peephole I only see one person in a dark heavy jacket standing in front of my door, so I open it.

“Fumigation,” says the young boy standing outside my door as the door to the apartment next to me slowly opens. “No, we ordered the fumigation,” says my neighbor. “Sorry,” he sheepishly tells me as I continue on about how I had already told him over the intercom that he had the wrong apartment number. He had already apologized over the speakerphone but comes up and then he rings my doorbell anyways. I went back to bed and slept till two in the afternoon.

Sam Slaughter is on his way over, to talk about the car that he needs to sell and about staying here in this apartment with me until he is scheduled to leave Argentina on June 6th. We are also going to talk about Paraguay, Ciudad del Este and the military base up in the north, somewhere out there in the Gran Chaco desert near the border with Bolivia. Edd is even considering comin. I’ve got to get the pitch out cause this could be good one; three foreigners traveling to a land where no Gringos go, except for Ethan. He went there, but not all the way up into this part of Paraguay, the barren Chaco. Paraguay is about as far from a tourist destination as the North Pole is for an Antarctic penguin. It’s Indians, Peace Corp, Mormons, ex-Nazis, CIA, special ops and then the US Soldiers that are doing ‘joint military exercises’ with the Paraguayan military and who are also helping build the runway up in there in the North, next to Bolivia, where they just nationalized the gas fields which are just across the border from this part of Paraguay.

A FULL

Well, California came and went, in a hurry. And it really was full-on or 'a full' as they say here in Argentina. I don't even know where to begin. I had a few extra hours at LAX airport yesterday before the flight to ponder and slow down a bit and then this hugely obese woman sits down across from me talking to herself outloud in hopes of sparking up a conversation with someone, anyone in the near vicinity. I immediately bury myself in my notepad only peaking over every once in a while to see if anyone will bite - nobody does. So then she picks up a brand new hardback edition of 'The Da Vinci Code' and I think to myself, 'that's so weird because you've seen soo many people these past two weeks reading that same book, which you thought came out a few years back but...' And then I remember my friend Michele telling me that her and her husbands (Chris, an old college friend) 13 year old daughter had just read one hundred pages from that book without putting it down and said it was the best book she'd ever read. And then I remembered her telling me that there's a new film of the same title coming out soon, thus the dash to be able to say, 'well, I read the book BEFORE watching the film.' I think maybe Tom Hanks is the star...

I know this has nothing to do with my trip and all of the crazy-good times but the thing that struck me the most about her and then about 3/4 of the people boarding the plane to Houston was their shear size - HUGE! I mean a couple of folks were definitely pushing 400lbs. (180 kilos). And then I thought, well... we are flying to Texas. And then I wondered which US state has the most obese people out of the country and my guess is its somewhere in the South, probably Texas. And then I began to drift in and out of sleep as we lifted off the ground at about 170mph (272km.) and climbed out over the California coastline up through the shallow marine layer and then through a series of short S turns, headed back towards the Southwest, eventually weaving our way around these beautifully gigantic and towering white cumulus clouds, some of which reached upwards of 40,000' (13,000mts.).

But its the friends and family back home that really made the trip. So first of all, thanks Marina for letting me tear apart your apartment (although it wasn't TOTALLY my fault, I definitely was the catalyst), thanks Steele for letting me stay in the mansion, thanks Rolo for getting the Subie to its finally resting place - RIP and also to Cal for that super welcome back Turkish dinner, thanks Super Dave for two awesome outings on the sailboat and for always being there for me, thanks Bob and Leslie for the great day of boating on my childhood Lake Piru in Ventura County and finally a specially thanks to my very own Mom; for all your hospitality and for simply putting up with me for all these years. I could go on and on because I'm very thankful to a whole lot more of wonderful people but am also glad to be back home here in Argentina. Pura vida como siempre... and now its time to get to work. Stay tuned - Goyo.

C A L I F O R N I A (que viva)

Back in San Francisco, California - what a beautiful city, but only for three more hecticly short days. And its been non-stop loconess since arrival last Tuesday morning, mostly catching up with old friends. Oddly, I don't miss this city, or Oakland or Berkeley or the Bay Area, not as a place to work and sweat in, but I didn't realize how much I miss all of these great people that I'm proud to call my friends. And I'm realizing how much I really do love the Bay Area, especially with the chill day at Lake Anza yesterday in Tilden Park in the Berkeley Hills (thanks Fletch and Anlie for making that happen).

But is started out with some Tequila, some tough guy shit and then a out-of-nowhere sleeper choke hold that put Cal Santos on the ground (video on the way). That was in lieu of the fight that was scheduled up in Humboldt which was canceled with two days to go. The next night was dinner for almost 30 people, upstairs at this Turkish joint in the Tenderloin called A La Turca. Tons of food and great people - that's what life is about. Thanks to each and every one of you that made it out, seriously. Then next door to some new place that used to be called Julip but is now Whisky Theives. It gets blurry from there and has been for most of the time - whirl-winding around, parks, picnics, kids, dinners, drinks, omelets, and a lot of laughs; which has actually been very painful since the go-karting accident nearly a week ago back in Buenos Aires where I cracked a couple of ribs smacking into the wall. So the better the night, the more laughter that ensues, the worse my ribs hurt the next morning, reminding me that we have been having a real good time. TBC

Time slips into the future

Cruisin' across the city to the other end of town, to Palermo, to have a Friday night group dinner at the Armenian Cultural Center, I notice the blanket flashes of lightning way down the street up towards the North. Summer has passed and when we exit the restaurant a few hours later, stuffed beyond belief - top notch food served in an auditorium family style - its rainy; steadily and warmly, a refreshingly humid rain.

Ethan and I both fly out of BA on Monday, both through Miami - the gateway to Latin America. He's headed on to NYC and I go back for two weeks to see friends and family in California before heading back to Buenos Aires in mid May. But I must say, the three day road trip while back home from May 5-7 to Humboldt County, Eureka to be more specific, to see my ex-roommate, ex-boss, ex-navy disordinance diver (READ - trained with the SEALS) and close, close friend step into the Octagon Cage for his first professional Mixed Martial Arts fighting debut, is really what I'm looking forward to. It's like the Super Dave story, an ongoing saga that's part of a larger syndrome. I've shot one fight story before (http://www.grphoto.net/cgi-bin/ICPro/showThumb.cgi?group=ufc_fight_club) and it left a definite impression in my mind when the guy I was covering lost. But FLETCHMONSTER is at the peak of his physical fight career and has what it takes upstairs to win. (You can read more about his preparation for his fight next weekend on his blog www.fletchmonster.blogspot.com or by clicking on the FletchMonster link at the top right link section of this blog.) We all wish you zen concentration and Master Ninja Warrior strength as you take this guy out!

Meanwhile, back in Buenos Aires my favorite expression in Spanish, or Castellano as it is pronounced here, still is 'es diferente', because Argentina really is different, even today after six months. And I still love it... a city that is alive, full of talk and walk and sit and listen and learn and to be alive. My other favorite expression, especially with my brethren taxi drivers is 'Nosotros tenemos plata sin vida y Uds. tienen vida sin plata', which roughly translates to 'We have money and no life and you have life with no money', which in many aspects is true. Consumerism naturally consumes North America, the United States, us, who we call Americans. But when you don't have any money, those choices don't exist, and you're forced to focus on other things... like your family and your friends and drinking mate in the park (which is about the cheapest thing in the world to do) and enjoying the weather - watching summer leave and to welcome the fall.

Easter & Empanadas

I'd like to write an entire piece on Empanadas but as bedtime draws near, I'll keep this brief. I LOVE EMPANADAS! (For those of you in the US of A, the closest thing to an empanada would be a 'hot pocket').

- they are CHEAP, especially here in Buenos Aires. If you can eat five, which is a stomach-full, you'll be setback about $1.70 USD).

- they are YUMMY, and come in more flavors than you can imagine; including Meat (in three varieties - suave, picante & 'squared'), chicken, ham & cheese... and a bunch of others. But those are the three main ones, no need to stray further

- did I say CHEAP?

- Delivery. the place a block away will deliver and a $0.30 tip on a $3 USD order is 'above the norm'.

So, Easter in Bs As (as Buenos Aires as it is known locally) was a work weekend - Digital (Photography) Work Flow. But the empanadas were CRUCIAL to the weekend and we thank San Remo Pizzeria for their aid and for being open over the holiday weekend. Long Live Empanadas!

ps - and when you have empanadas for breakfast, lunch AND dinner on Easter Weekend you have to be SURE that you have enough toilet paper, cause that's CRITICAL! dios mio... ES DIFERENTE! (as Ethan heads to the bathroom at 3am with a double layer of plastic grocery bags and the empanadas rappers. "Should I write 'OJO' for the Cartoneros on this bag of trash?"

FletchMonster Gonna Kick Some ASS!!

All's I can post right now, after a straight eight hours of DWF (Digital Work Flow - for Digital Photographers) is GO FLETCH GO!

www.fletchmonster.blogspot.com

YEAH!!!

GR

What I Been Doin'

(since this is all about ME!)

- I started taking pictures with my 1936 Leica III-C (on film, gasp!)
- I walked a long, long way in my same pair of black flip flops (today)
- I took as many taxis as buses in the past few weeks
- I kissed a sweaty Cartonero on the cheek (today)
- I kissed a girl on a crowded bus that I never thought I'd kiss again (today)
- I posed for a photo with a half-naked transvestite (ooh la la)
- I called MT on his birthday to wish him a happy 39th birthday (Happy Birthday Bro!)
- I stayed up all night
- I started smoking again (temporarily, maybe it had something to do with staying up all night?!)
- I worked a full EIGHT hour day (almost)
- I took pictures of a cute girl in a bikini sitting in a bunch of trash (today, with some Cartoneros)
- I won and lost at poker
- I finally made some business cards (first time in quite awhile)
- I authorized the replacement of my computer's hard drive (which sadly died)
- I confirmed my arrival to San Francisco for May 2nd (for a two week visit)
- I made coffee at home for the first time in weeks (today)
- I ate too much half-way decent guacamole (yesterday)
- I saw a lot of people picking through trash (always, I see)
- I learned two new words in slang for money (gita y tela)
- I conducted some business meetings
- I blogged about going to a mental hospital and never posted it (too difficult)
- I posted to my blog for the first time in awhile (today)
- I walked past Bar Britanico and realized it is still OPEN!
- I missed my friends and family in California
- I got stoked on my new job here in Bs As (or Baires as the locals call it)
- I drank too much soda pop
- I spent too much money (not on soda pop)
- I played an arcade rally driving game (today)
- I went to a mall (today)
- I ate at McDonald's for the first time in Argentina (today, at the mall)
- And finally (today) I realized (again) that life ain't soo bad!

Save Bar Britanico or Immanent Death?

Perhaps the coolest bar in Buenos Aires for more unusual reasons than not, this 'not friendly enough for tourists' historic establishment has lost its lease and might be over as of tomorrow.

From the grey cat that sleeps on the divider between the front and back portions to the four classic waiters in their white coats and with their stories, three of them over 70 years of age. From Manolo taking belches from a small clear bottle from behind the counter to Toni, the 'sub editor' of the Buenos Aires Herald, passed out at whatever table he ended up at, Bar Britanico will be sadly missed.

Someone named Claire wrote this great piece with links to the article in the Herald by Toni.

Good night, and good luck, and we hope that somehow, some way Bar Britanico, my favorite bar in all of Buenos Aires, will stay alive.

Boca Jrs. Futbol

So I finally made it to my first futbol game in Argentina, the second professional soccer game in my life; the first being between Rawstock and Leipzig in Eastern Germany about 12 years ago. That one ended in a huge riot between fans with German riot police toppling them with water canons from armoured plated crowd control assault vehicles.

This game, Boca vs. Quilmes game played last Sunday at Boca Jrs. Stadium was, another cultural experience, to say the least. Arriving late with Edd, Marina, and Julia and Peter (ironically, a German couple), we found what appeared to be a decent spot in the popular section right out front. Across from us were groups of young boys climbing up the barb-wired fence to get a better view.

Little did we know that we were sitting directly beneath the opposing fans, also held back from another razor wire fence high above. But that didn't stop some of them from climbing over the high fence, risking their lives so they could then torture us perched safely from above. First, there was just spitting, nothing too serious. I think I caught a couple partial luggies, no harm no foul. Then, a 10lbs. bag of water came hurling down, missing me by inches and slammed into the guy in front of us, nearly knocking him to the ground, drenching his head and back. Overly paranoid at this point, I had no idea what to expect next. Suddenly there is a huge surge from the packed crowd, like at a concert when you feel yourself getting pushed along and you just go with it. I look up and see an uncircumcised youth, swinging his penis wildly back and forth, freely urinating on about 2,000 fans below.

After that we took shelter underneath the overhang with what turned out to be the unofficial Gringo section but what else can I say? I guess that's what the Brits mean when they say, 'taking the piss out on someone'.

Introducing... Ethan!

Most of you have met my new roommate, fellow photographer and good friend Ethan Salwen but for those of you that haven't, Ethan has been more than instrumental in areas including Digital Workflow (thanks for bringing down at least 15 different books on DWF and Photoshop CS2 including Fraser's latest), photo-mule, bringing down countless excess baggage of photo equipment and an all-around excellent source of photo information, not to mention being a great friend and mentor.

Don't worry, I don't think the US Military will be leaving Iraq anytime soon, so I think you'll still get a chance to make it over there. Your pal Goyo.

Behind the Scenes of BA Fashion

Hair and makeup are essential to any fashion shoot.

And there's a lot of boredom involved... a lot of waiting.

The final touches before shooting for Italian clothing designer Miss Sixty.

And RTG - Ret To Go!

The End of the Line

When I returned the rental car back in Buenos Aires they told me that I had driven 3,600 kilometers (2,232 miles) in five days. Really? This was a problem because the rental agreement only allowed for 1,500 kms. But I was able to renegotiate the contract down to half of the original rate with double the free kilometers and then pay the diference for the extra kms. Dan and I both agree that the trip was epic, tremendous, a bit insane, but totally worth it. Dan's Stateside email simply said, "Your driving would make Neil Cassidy and Che proud."

The most powerful aspect of the road trip was my reconnection with Che Guevara. I had abondoned him after finding him back in college, when I took a course entititled "Guerilla Warfare," taught by Tom Davies, who along with Brian Loveman had translated Che's book by the same name into English. It was Tom and Che that inspired me to go to Central America to experience guerilla warfare first hand at age 22. During my third trip to Central America in less than two years, in El Salvador, amidst a twelve year bloody civil war that left more than 100,000 civilans dead, I shed my idealist revolutionary fervor. I had seen first hand that war was not the way, even though I still belive that people who are oppressed must stand up and fight against their oppressors. I realized that before I could help others and tell their stories, I had to take care of myself. So I took a cush job shooting fluffy travel videos around the world and never looked back. Now, after visisting Che's childhood home, my interest in Che'a idea about revolution and a how we make a better world have been reignited.

Che was killed by Mario Teràn, a Bolivian soldier, on October 9, 1967 in La Higuera, Bolivia. According to Teràn's confession, Teràn entered the school room where Che was being held captive. Tied up and sitting on the floor, Che looked up at the soldier and slowly said, "I know you are here to kill me." Trembeling, Teràn looked down at the floor. "Calm down, and aim well," Che told Teràn. "You are going to kill a man."

Teràn took one step back, closed his eyes and fired his automatic weapon, destroying Che's legs. Che began to contort and fell over, blood gushing from his body. Teràn regained his composure and fired again, this time blasting Che in the arm, the shoulder, and finally the heart. Ernesto 'Che' Guevara was dead.*

Today on the streets of Buenos Aires it feels like you can't walk one block with out being reminded of Che, the most famous Argentine ever. Within an hour I'll see a pregnant woman with a red Che T-shirt, a stencil on a wall that portrays Che as a woman, some young punk with a Che tatoo on his upper arm, and a pack of young teenage girls walking by giggling, "Che boluda...!" He remains entrenched in the national psyche of Argentina. A fallen hero, a God, a revolutionary, a man, but an Argentine through and through. An Argentine that stood up against oppression and said, "BASTA!" - Enough!

* From Pacho O'Donnell's 'Che - La Vida Por Un Mundo Mejor' or 'Che - A Life for a Better World'

On the Road Again

San Luis, Argentina

Checked into a hotel in Mendoza and finally took a solid three hour super power nap. Flipping through the channels after awakening I catch a piece of news from BA saying that the US military is going to attack Iran if some agreement can't be reached over their nuke program. Great. Then I get caught up in some bad b-movie with Charlie Sheen (although the credits say Charles) where he gets firefighter of the year and then proceeds to terrorize this idyllic American family next door.

That night I decided to follow the example of my new boss and eat well for a change asking around Mendoza for the best meal in town. All fingers pointed to Estancia La Florencia and I thoroughly enjoyed the cream of asparaguss soup, simple salad with lettuce, tomato and egg and then the grilled salmon from Chile with whole potatoes. A bottle of Quilmes cerveza and a glass of Cabernet to complement the meal and the grand total was a mere $43 pesos ($15 USD). And that's as good as it gets.
One of many 'Difunta Correa' shrines alongside Argentina's highways, protecting travellers on their journeys.

Finally got on the road this morning at 9:00AM after getting lost for about an hour leaving the city of Mendoza. And after two hours of solid driving I get stopped and busted... for not driving with my headlights on. So the cop tells me that its a $55 peso fine and I tell him I don't have it. "No, no... not now. You can pay later when you get to Buenos Aires," he says. "Isn't there some way we could make an exception this time? I honestly thought I had to drive with my lights on only in the parts where it says 'turn your lights on'." I reply. Basically he asked me how much I could offer for the exception and I told him $20 pesos. He accepted and then we went through the official 'bribe' protocol (thanks for schoolin' me on that one Dan). He hands me back my license and I fold the bill and put it behind my license and hand it back to him. He slips the bill from behind my license and pockets it and then hands the license back to me, advising me not to forget to turn my lights on after refueling.

Now I'm still more than 800 K from BA but when you drive at an average of 150 km/hr it takes a lot less than people estimate. I was hearing anywhere from 10 - 16 hours of driving from Mendoza. Tomorrow I have to be at the airport bright and early to pick up fellow photographer Ethan Salwen from NYC. Ethan and I are joining photographic forces and have a two month Digital Work Flow (DWF) and Digital Asset Management (DAM) bootcamp in the works. Wish us luck - we need it.

Road Trippin´

Waking up this morning to a pitch black sky chalked full of never-ending stars at 6:00AM after a restless night of not sleeping well in the rental car in a dirt parking lot high up in the Andes mountains was nothing less than miraculous. Unconscious National Park - trailhead to the highest peak outside of the Himalayas is just a dirt road off of the highway which divides Argentina and Chile. I failed in my attempt to drive the rental car into Chile and to drop Dan at the airport in Santiago so I dropped him on top of the Andes at 10,000' above sea level and we said our goodbyes.

And what a road TRIP it has been. Now I'm in Mendoza in a cyber cafe where the owner just told me that two guys tried to steal my camera while I was sitting here staring at the screen instead of paying attention like I normally do. Damn, another close one. Got to get some sleep but its 11AM and there's now way to catch some zzz's in the car - too compact. But I don't think I'll make it too far down the road but yet I must be back in Buenos Aires by tomorrow. At the end of this 5 day extravaganza I will have driven over 1,500 miles includingscarycarry dirt roads, major mountain climbing and descending and some good times.
Photo by Dan P.

And Ramiro*, I admit to losing the bet with you that I would be able to drive the rental car into Chile gringo-style and IOU two weeks of my time unplugged even though I 'technically' did cross into Chile with the car... maybe we go somewhere on bici o en canoa?!

* - And during this whole late night bet-making process I agreed to read and then publish this part of an email from Ramiro. This is for you, amigo.

- Es Fundamental "el tiempo para uno", con lo cual hay que laburar menos.
- Esto no quiere decir hecharse y abandonar los suenos.
- Es Todo lo contrario.
- Es lucirce como especie.-

... entonces, que tal esta idea?:
- Producir en el norte y vivir y disfrutar en el sur.
Cuya evolucion seria...:
- Producir en el norte pero viviendo en el sur,
... y seguir viviendo y disfrutando en el sur.

King David and Finding Che

The phone rings and I answer it. "What the hell are you doing in Buenos Aires?" I have no idea who is on the other end until the stern but friendly voice identifies himself as Dan, an old publisher friend from way back. "You want to have lunch with me in half an hour? I'm at the Faena Hotel," he asks. Almost broke and with plenty of time on my hands I oblidge.

The next 48 hours are a total blur... talks of wine, women and war, fireworks, Olsen, business plans on napkins, Tango and rental car mafia/wedding planners giving us the skinny on what's naught in BA. And then we hit the road.

We arrived at Che's house in Alta Gracia, a quiet suburban neighborhood thirty minutes outside of Cordoba at six o'clock in the morning after driving all night in a torrentialt rainstorm - dangerous driving, the kind of driving that takes people out. There's his motorized bicycle that he circumnavigated Argentina on, the last letter he wrote to his parents shortly before he was killed in Bolivia and some random neighborhood photos portraying him as an average upper-middle class citizen. But Che was an idealist with a big ego. Che's victory in Cuba was relatively easy and then he proceeded to loose all of his other revolutionary attempts. A sufferer of his own dogma, he was unable to see beyond the reality of his political ideas and waged a one-man war against everyone who was not on his side.

Checking into the King David hotel in Cordoba capital some 30 hours after we started our journey, I could not keep my eyes open any longer. Che would have slept in the bush outside of the capital, today we have capital and no need for BUSH - BASTA... y `Hasta la victoria siempre!'

Stencil in La Boca

La Boca is like the West Oakland of Buenos Aires and I feel right at home now. Lots has changed in the past 24 hours... and I still love Buenos Aires! Hope to see all my friends back home on International Workers Day - May 1, 2006. Love GR (BIG Cinco de Mayo party in SF, yeah?)

A kiss is just a kiss

Fading mural across from Boca Jrs. stadium, La Boca, Buenos Aires.