Sunday, August 13, 2006

California or Bust

The infamous 'Hotel California' conjures up many things to many people in its many variations and widely debated interpretations. Probably the most famous or popular reference is from the Eagles 1976 international hit song 'Hotel California' (On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair. Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air...) about some sequestered hotel south of the border, presumably in Baja California, Mexico.

According to Mark Bowden, author of Black Hawk Down and Killing Pablo, 'Hotel California ' (nicknamed by the CIA) is the place where Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, the notorious terrorist and mastermind behind both attacks on the World Trade Center (the failed attack in 1993 and 9/11/01), captured in Pakistan in March 2003, was flown to - 'presumably a facility in another cooperative nation, or perhaps a specially designed prison aboard an aircraft carrier.' (1)

For me, the Hotel California has a few different personal connotations. First, there is a residential hotel near my old flat in West Oakland called the California Hotel on San Pablo Avenue just down the street from The Oaks card room which I could see from my back deck, standing there as an anomoly right next to the 580 Freeway - inhabited by the poor, outcast, drug-addicted, and mentally insane. Second, there is the Hotel California pictured above in Ciudad del Este, Paraguay - near the Gran Casino Paraná situated on the banks of the Rio Paraná, bordering Paraguay and Brazil. And finally, there's the mythological Hotel California that represents some kind of fantastical Shangri La or El Dorado-like reprieve; like R&R after being in the shitstorm of war - a break from the daily ins and outs of life, for example, like living here in sometimes surreal Buenos Aires. This Atlantis or fool-like paradise vision is much different than that of the place where Kahalid Mohammed is currently being detained, I imagine.

On August 23 I am fortuned and thankful to have been granted a slight repreive from my life here in BA and am heading back home to California - land of dreams and gold - for a short but glorious two weeks; not to a specific hotel but rather to my motherland, back to see friends and family, back to experience first hand the wonders of the Sierra Nevada del Norte and back to reignite that internal flame of inspiration from that small slice of heaven that I call my home away from home.

1 - From Jon Ronson's latest novel: The Men Who Stare at Goats

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Che Guevara Alive In Lebanon?

Having my brain overloaded with Level 4 'intensive' Spanish for the past three weeks at the University of Buenos Aires, this our fourth and final week, I finally realize that I am not going to make up for all the years and years of not studying language, not since failing Level 2 back in college, twice. The professor actually told me today that my spoken Spanish is fluid, but the writing part ain’t so hot. “You’re going to have to start to read a lot, in Spanish,” she added.

Actually, one of our exercises a week ago was to choose an article in a local newspaper and write our opinions about it, forcing us to use the heinous subjunctive forms of the verbs in their many complicated and rule-bound conjugations. Never short on opinions, this was homework I could handle, so I thought. The first article I saw online in La Nacion was titled “Nasrallah is the Che of the Arab World.” Hmm… that’s interesting; a comparison between the dead Argentine revolutionary icon, reportedly assassinated in Bolivia at the hands of the CIA and the current, living leader of Hezbollah, Hassan Nasrallah in Lebanon. The second was on Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez’s recent visit to Iran where he compared current Israeli military operations in Lebanon with those of Adolph Hitler against the Jews in the Second World War. I stuck with the first one.

The article quotes Michel Awad, a political science professor from the Institute of Social Sciences at the University of Lebanon who says ‘Nasrallah is the new Che Guevara, but in the Arab world. He’s on all the t-shirts, in all the houses and in all the hearts… uniting both Shiites and Sunnis. For Arabs, its now clearly a matter of life and death.'

I hop into bed before midnight and finish reading Jon Ronson’s “The Men Who Stare at Goats” about the U.S. Military’s continued efforts to develop psychic Jedi Warrior-like troops that can, among other things walk through walls and yes, kill goats by actually staring at them. This excellent journalistic trail of cosmic breadcrumbs takes the author on a chilling but true tale of murder, torture and the ongoing ‘war against terror’. Che was a terrorist, among other things.

Still not tired with finals now but two days away, I flip on the TV to relax a bit. Mistake. The Syrian Ambassador to the US in being interviewed on the BBC news program Hard Talk saying, “They [Hezbollah] are a grassroots guerilla movement and are popularly supported by the people of Lebanon… Israel has already invaded Lebanon not once but twice and both times we’re pushed back successfully by Hezbollah. If they want to do this again I think it’s a serious, serious mistake."

Larry King’s guest on CNN is a female reporter from the Washington Post saying that Hezbollah, with two seats in the Lebanese coalition government, shares the support of eighty seven percent of the Lebanese people, which in turn is made of thirty-four different religious groups. That’s more than you can say for Bush’s popularity, that’s for damn sure. Last I heard it was down around thirty percent.

A BBC reporter says, “…while Israel tries to destroy Hezbollah positions…” and I tune out. That’s the point of a guerilla army, as Che professed, can’t beat ‘em.

After the report, they cut to international weather and this wretched-looking weather woman takes us on a meteorological tour throughout Europe, smiling her best TV newscaster smile whenever there’s sunshine but getting more serious, almost frowning when the weather turns south. And south we head into Northern Africa, skip the Middle East and then on over to India where they have already received five meters of rain with severe flooding and says, “more torrential rains to continue.” Her report abrubtly ends and she beams a great big smile. There is a lull as someone in the control room drops the ball before they finally cut back to the studio late, leaving her standing there with that damn smile plastered on her face. But its not sunny in India, why are you smiling?!

They then went to some lighter world news which included a mimicking parrot in Germany that fooled neighbors into calling the police when it loudly screeched over and over “Mama, MAMA!”

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Who You Callin' An Expat?

Just even the sound of that word - Expat, gives me the willies; always has, always will.

“That’s not me nor will it ever be. That term is dated. I’m a traveler, an adventurer, a citizen of this planet… a ‘photographer without borders.’”

Or so I thought. Now I’ve lived here in Buenos Aires for nine or so months with a couple of trips here and there in between. Short for expatriate and technically speaking, I guess I fit one if not two of the noun definitions:

-One who has taken up residence in a foreign country.
-One who has renounced one's native land.

Although my father took up residence from his native land of England long ago moving to California in the late 1950's, he has never renounced his own motherland and still maintains his British citizenship. Now I’m thinking about switching sides. Because of his birthright claim to the Isles of Great Britain I also am entitled to British citizenship. Those are the cards I was dealt and I might as well play ‘em. Plus it’d save me on visa fees entering and exiting Paraguay, freely as I please. (British citizens do not have to pay the $50USD one-time entry fee like Americans do).

But back to Buenos Aires and the point of this post. There’s this expat email list that I first subscribed to fresh off the plane. Now I never even read them but then just the other day Ethan forwarded me an excerpt from one of their recent emails and I felt moved to post it here.

“Expats are vulnerable to a number of changes in
their mental and physical health when adjusting to
life in a new country. Psychological problems that
can arise or resurface include depression, anxiety,
issues regarding existing relationships (or lack
there of), anger and frustration, addictive
behvaiour, body image and eating issues, as well as
loss of identity and direction in life.

Psychotherapy provides a space for you to resolve
and manage these issues; enabling you to live
your life in a full and meaningful way.”

That’s funny... and I thought it was just me. The only thing the blurb from this local gringo-targeting-psychotherapist forgot to mention was the part about not sleeping.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Nenas at Friend's Birthday Party

This was taken in the outskirts of BA at a birthday party for a friend of mine's son. In Spanish, the word for puppy is 'Chachorro'! It's a good word.

Young Woman Walking Past Wall

Man Looking Out Door

Man With Cart Sleeping In Parque Lezama

This is part of my ongoing series entitled 'People sleeping outside'.

Monday, July 24, 2006

'Friends Day' is Fashionable Indeed

Friends day was last Thursday here in Buenos Aires and it was a BIG DEAL! Went to a runway show at Mint and snapped a few pictures, most to blurry to post... but fortunately I did make some new friends!








Y... LAS JEFAS DEL SHOW!

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

The Butterfly Effect - Chaotic Motion

These are things that I have done, learned, or have noticed over the past week.

- Even though there was a fairly recent film made called 'The Butterfly Effect' starring Ashton Kutcher, I had never heard of The Butterfly Effect until playing poker last night with the young British mathematical physicist Edd Denbee. The actually 'effect' according to Wikipedia is truly fascinating and usually used in physics to explain a technical part of Chaos Theory - sensitive dependence on initial conditions- illustrating how small changes to the beginning of a system can bring about major changes in the weather, for example... how the flap of a butterfly's wings in Brazil could cause a Tornado in Texas. "However," according to Denbee, "the movie is not fascinating. It is absolutely dreadful!"

- Today after class I bought a Boca Juniors banner to replace the framed and kitschy sea shell hanging 'thing' in our kitchen; both because we LIVE in La Boca and to shout out to a good friend of ours here who is a HUGE Boca Jrs. fan and who also has had a tough few weeks - suerte amigo!

- I finally learned how to make RISOTTO - even assisted in the cooking AND eating of it. Thanks Edd Denbee and Marina Costaguta for the help and inspiration. The secret ingredient - BACON!

- Last night I had a horrible run of bad luck, playing poker on full tilt until 5am but then made a HUGE comeback on the very last hand - heads up pot limit. My Kings and Jacks beat out Denbee's Kings and Two's. The pot was over $400 pesos and saved my ASS!

- I learned that 19.8% of the U.S. Federal Budget for FY05 was allocated to 'Defense Discretionary' spending and that 19.3% was allocated as 'Non-Defense Discretionary', but I have NO IDEA what 'Non-Defense Discretionary' really means? My guess is that we are paying for the Iraq war with some if not most of the later funds. Funny how I didn't see EDUCATION anywhere on the pie chart or the Congressional PAY RAISE that U.S. Senators allocated for themselves a few months back!

- I safely boarded, rode and lept off the #10 collectivo (bus) today on the way home from school without banging my head on the handrails the entire time.

- For the first time in my life I had a sty in my eye which swelled up almost closing it completely. But then thanks to the local pharmacy that acts-as-doctor on the corner, they sold me some ointment and its getting better. But DAMN! Marina told me its from riding the busses and then wiping your eyes. Won't be doing much of that anymore!

- Speaking of busses, I saw a beautiful woman today out the window of the bus that I thought, for an instance, was Sarah Wheeler.

- I (along with Ethan) had a mild to medium case of dysentery (splatter-ass) which I determined was actually not caused by my lentil stew. I ate the last of it from the fridge day before yesterday... todo bien.

- And, today both in Spanish and English I finally began to grasp the concept of the 'SUBJUNCTIVE' form of the verb. In English, it is "a situation or condition that is untrue, not yet true, or highly unlikely." Ex.--use of "were" instead of "was" in this sentence--If I were you, I would submit another application before the deadline date, this to me via email from my dear Mom. The thing is that in Spanish, they actually change the form of the verb in many tenses to reflect the 'subjunctive condition' not to be confused with the 'conditional' condition. Wait... that vaguely reminds me of a song I can't seem to recall off hand.

- Speaking of songs, Marina and I practiced our version of the duet called ELEPHANT LOVE MEDLEY(?!) from Moulin Rouge over the weekend in preparation for our big BA Karaoke debut. 'Love lifts us up where we belong, where eagles fly on a mountain high'. I also 'agreed' to do a duet with the lovely, super smart and flowery Jennie Burke, another young Brit who studies at Oxford (gasp!) from the movie Grease... what am I thinking?! "You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs..." (also from Moulin Rouge)


Note: another funny side bar is that the other 'California' BAD Marina is a HUGE Moulin Rouge fan and agreed to burn down the house with me on my next visit back home with the Elephant Medely Song at Karaoke. That's one song, two Marinas and me, who can't sing worth a damn but is finally ready to face my karaoke fears.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Labratorio Para Idiotas

Speaking better Spanish was one of my three primary goals upon relocating to Argentina. The University of Buenos Aires or UBA, offers a twice yearly one month intensive ‘Spanish for Foreigners’ course, which had been on the clanender for over a month now. I had finally convinced myself (and Ethan) that this intensive course was not only imperative but also critical to both of our future successes here in Latina America. Needless to say we were upset when we both woke up three hours late for the evaluation exam because we were playing poker until five in the morning.

The intensive version of this Spanish course is three hours a day, five days a week for four weeks. It is also very popular with gringos and fills up quickly. Get here early was the only advice I had received when initially investigating the course. We bolt into action and arrive at the Language Laboratory campus disheveled and unshaven, jumping from the cab almost before it stopped. The younger woman at the information booth tells us that we’ve missed the morning round of testing and have to return at 5pm later that same day. We are both handed slips of paper with the numbers ninety and ninety-one on them and leave, dejected and also a bit sick to our stomachs, which may or may not be attributed to my burgeoning cooking skills and my now somewhat infamous lentil stew.

We return well before 5pm and wait around until after 5pm only to realize that the testing has already begun in another room. We each receive our two-sided sheets of paper, which along with an oral evaluation will place us between levels 0-6. At first glance I almost burst out laughing as the exam looks impossible and I realize once again that I can speak much better Spanish than I can read or write. At one point I caught Ethan’s eye and just whispered, “don’t forget to include ‘Paraguay’ in one of your answers!” We both laughed out loud and continued to plug away, writing something, anything on the fairly cryptic exam. When I finally turned in my test, the woman in charge at the front table was trying to slowly communicate to a younger male Japanese student which level that he was going to be in. He politely nodded his head at her and she turned to her collegue and said in Spanish, "he doesn't understand a word I'm saying." She then simply made a zero sign with her hand and said to him once again in Spanish - "ZERO!"

Afterwards we both had a good laugh and Ethan asked me about that one question which was something about ‘How much does your sister cost?’ I only remember the one that was something like ‘If there’s a terrible storm_______________.’ My answer was something like ‘you need to run cause you might get hit by a bolt of lighting’, which I totally misspelled beyond the point of recognition so badly that she actually asked me, ‘and what we’re you meaning by this answer?’ (Ethan put some like '... agua y agua y AGUA!')

As we wait for them to grade our tests I’m thinking she probably won’t even be able to decipher my horrible penmanship, let alone actually score the test. After about an hour of waiting and watching Ethan randomly bump into two different women that he knows from his first visit (more on that strange and slightly surreal experience later – although I can say that he did throw himself on the floor after Stella, his ex-Spanish teacher left the room causing half of the students to turn around and look back, seeing him laying face up on the floor) I get called forward and sit down with one of the all-female instructors to go over my exam and to chat. “All of your answers are fine and there are only a few minor mistakes, but I noticed that you didn’t use the subjunctive at all, either on your test or your verbal answers. Do you know the subjunctive?” she asks? “Umm… I think I’ve heard of it,” I stuttered back trying to fake some kind of answer. “OK – level four, you start on Monday.”

Ethan tested into level two and just like that this painfully hysterical situation is over and now the challenge begins. I’ve taken three college courses since dropping out of college my senior year at San Diego State University and am not that thrilled to be back at it. Spanish was one of my worst classes and I think I failed level three twice back then. And that was almost twenty years ago. At least my class doesn’t begin until 2pm unlike Ethan’s rude awakening for his 9:30am level two course tomorrow morning. [TBC]

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Freedom?

The 4th of July - Dia de Independencia de Los Estados Unidos

Today marks the day that the founding fathers of the United States signed the Declaration of Independence in 1776, two hundred and thirty years ago, demanding independence from the King of Great Britain. And what a long way we’ve come, from colonial patriots to hot dogs and hamburgers, parades, BBQ’s, baseball and yes – FIREWORKS - my personal favorite, although in many US cities you aren’t actually able to buy them, just the hot dogs and the charcoal.

In the words of Founding Father John Adams, the holiday would be “the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.” (Wikipedia)

Guns?! Hmm… I think some of the only places where you can actually celebrate the Day of Independence with firearms currently in the States are West Oakland, East LA and maybe some parts of Philly and Northeast Washington D.C. Maybe that’s a constitutional right that we can bring back into mainstream America – shooting off firearms instead of fireworks, or why not both?

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness – that’s what the founding fathers wanted for future generations. Currently Freedom from terrorism is our government’s main preoccupation. "We’re gonna smoke ‘em out!" said President G.W. Bush a few years ago, speaking at the beginning of the war against terrorism which began in Afghanistan in response to 9/11. Unfortunately the terrorists, who used to be our allies helping us fight the Russians in Afghanistan throughout the 1980s, all fled to Pakistan and lands beyond. Sure we nailed some of them along with a bunch of innocent civilians but by all accounts, we’re still in a ridiculous quagmire Afghanistan.

And now we’ve got Iraq, motherland of all civilization and a sacred holy land to millions of Muslims who don’t eat hotdogs or play baseball. We’ve even helped them implement their own coalition government as well as their very own constitution. Now they can pursue life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as well.

But what actually is liberty? According to the dictionary it’s defined as: “the condition of being free from restriction or control. The right and power to act, believe, or express oneself in a manner of one's own choosing.” Hmmm? Not sure that’s what we’ve got planned for Iraq.

What we really stand for in today’s post-modernist, consumerism First World is a different kind of freedom. A freedom to choose which type of cleaning detergent we’d prefer, how we’re going to afford a bigger house, and which color of the latest fuel-efficient car we’re going to buy (must include stereo with an iPod jack). We want to maintain our abilty to consume—the status quo in our privileged First-Word form of Life, Liberty and Freedom. We fight to continue to maintain our Number One status at the expense of anyone who gets in our way.

Speaking during the darkest days of World War II, President Roosevelt reminded American citizens: “So is it now…. The tough, grim men who fight for freedom in this dark hour take heart in its message -- the assurance of the right to liberty under God -- for all peoples and races and groups and nations, everywhere in the world.”

Too bad that doesn’t ring true today as we continue to spread armed conflict around the world, primarily with the stated goal of fighting terrorists in order to allow others, among other things, to practice religious freedom. But isn't it really more of a question of, “Our God is mightier than your God,” which is what Christians along with many others have been fighting for since the beginning of religion?

Here in Argentina, July 9th marks the day that Argentina declared its independence from Spain. Largely seen as nothing more than a political dog and pony show, it’s not really a celebration so much as a day of remembering that they are still under some kind of foreign control; whether its control from the World Bank and the IMF, foreign financiers or the Yankis – that come for the water! At least in Argentina they eat hot dogs, which are called panchos.

Note: The photo is a posed shot of two Cartoneros with a model named Arceli in a shoot called 'Tomando Sol' or 'Sunbathing' which is part of an ongoing series that I am shooting on the trash recycling aspects of city life here in Buenos Aires. I'm trying to show a fictional contrast between their lives and work and the rest of the city.

Friday, June 30, 2006

Vamos Argentina... Todavia!

Words simply can not express what it feels like after today's tough loss against Ze Germans.





Tuesday, June 27, 2006

R.I.P. – Bar Britanico – R.I.P.


Sadly we must say chau to the infamous Bar Britanico on the corner of Parque Lezama in San Telmo. Our beloved and gracious bar at the corner of Defensa and Brasil that used to never close, has finally closed its doors – forever.

As I met up with the young British mathematical physicists Edd Denbee today for a match of ‘Paddle’(1) – which ended in a technical draw due to time constraints; 6-2, 4-3 (Denbee) – we realized that we had scheduled our match at the exact time that Spain was to play France in the World Cup (2). We rescheduled for later and headed to San Remo Pizzeria to watch the game. That’s when Edd told me that Bar Britanico actually had shut down. He said he actually came out of the Piso Loco and saw the crowd gathered for the actual closing. In his own words:

“After more than 40 years the shutters finally fell on Bar Britanico. Los ojos de Bar Britanico se cerraron. The moment passed as Britanico had always lived, quietly, peaceful, without making a fuss. As the dirty shutters rolled down, filthy from lack of use over the last 40 years, there was no shouting, no fighting, just silent reflection on all the events that had happened inside those doors.

The TV cameras filmed, half a dozen policeman stood silently, arms folded, a handful of people with cameras tried to capture the historic moment. Inside a lone waiter swept the empty bar for the final time. The end of an era some might say.”

Ironically as we rounded the corner there was Tony (3), ‘Sub-Editor of the Buenos Aires Herald’ and the Bar’s worst but most steadfast gringo patron, sitting alone on a small stool in the tiny annd cold corner Pancheria (hotdog joint) just a few blocks down from Britanico, also on another corner of Parque Lezama... looking forlorn and lost. “His life must be upside-down,” says Denbee, or something to that effect - a sad day indeed.

1 – A strange purely Argentine invention which uses a tennis ball, a tennis net and something just smaller than an actual tennis court but is played with these giant poly-carbonate paddles with holes in them, similar to racquetball paddles but much larger. It’s also similar to squash (I think), which I’ve never actually played.

2 – Which as most of you will know by now ended 3-1, with France scoring TWO goals in the last ten minutes… damn FROGS!

3 – Tony, as I’ve written before is the guy that looks like the lead singer of ‘Simply Red’ and has been called among other things, ‘the laughing stock of the Buenos Aires Herald,’ mostly because he either comes into work drunk or falls asleep at his desk because he is hung over.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Afghanistan, Rambo III & The War(rior) Within

A slight digression, but this is what happens when you can’t sleep late at night and you flip on the tube in Argentina; bad movies on bad television – badly exported American culture/propaganda.

Released on May 25, 1988(1) towards the end of the Cold War between Russia and the USA, RAMBO III finds ex-Green Beret commando John Rambo (Sylvester Stallone) (2) stick fighting in a pit, much like Ultimate Cage fighting of today, somewhere in Asia and winning, giving all his profits from illegal gambling to the Buddhist monks that he lives and works with. Then one day Colonel Trautman (Richard Crenna), his ex-commanding officer from Vietnam tracks him down at the monastery where he is working peacefully with his bare hands, chiseling away at a tall tower with a wooden mallet. Colonel Trautman tells him about a secret mission to assist rebel ‘Freedom Fighting’ forces in Afghanistan to bring down the weakening Soviet Army.

"My war is over Colonel,” says Rambo in that monotone voice that preceded Keanu Reeves. “John, when are you going to stop fighting yourself? You’re a warrior and always will be. We [the U.S. Army] didn’t make you this way, we just chipped away at the rough edges,” replies Colonel Trautman. Rambo declines and the Colonel leaves.

Time passes and the Ambassador to Afghanistan returns to the monastery alone to inform Rambo that his ex-Colonel has been captured by the Russians and is being tortured against his will. In one scene the Russian commander says to the Colonel, “If you’d studied your history you’d realize that those people [Afghans] would rather DIE than be over run by invading forces.” Sound familiar?

If you look at the history of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan starting in 1979 you’d see the U.S. playing Cold War in Afghanistan. Zbigniew Brzezinski, National Security Advisor to then President Jimmy Carter, had this to say in a 1998 interview with Le Nouvel Observateur: "That secret operation was an excellent idea. It had the effect of drawing the Russians into the Afghan trap..." [...]"The day that the Soviets officially crossed the border, I wrote to President Carter. We now have the opportunity of giving to the USSR its Vietnam War. Indeed, for almost 10 years, Moscow had to carry on a war unsupportable by the government, a conflict that brought about the demoralization and finally the breakup of the Soviet empire."

John Rambo travels secretly to Afghanistan, befriends the Mujahideen rebels who caution him against any attempt to rescue his former Colonel, and learns about Jihad. Declaring that he doesn’t care if he dies trying to save his ex-Colonel, one of the wizened guerilla warriors responds, “Us Mujahideen warriors, holy warriors, consider ourselves already dead, so we fight till the death so our children won’t have to.”
It has been widely reported that indeed the CIA was secretly funding the Mujahideen Freedom Fighters with FIM Stinger ‘man-portable surface-to-air' missiles, which is the premise of this film and also the beginnings of Al-Qaida, a point on which I must further digress.

Robin Cook, former British Secretary of State and Leader of the House of Commons sums it up best: “Bin Laden was, though, a product of a monumental miscalculation by western security agencies. Throughout the 80s he was armed by the CIA and funded by the Saudis to wage jihad against the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Al-Qaida, literally "the database", was originally the computer file of the thousands of Mujahideen who were recruited and trained with help from the CIA to defeat the Russians. Inexplicably, and with disastrous consequences, it never appears to have occurred to Washington that once Russia was out of the way, Bin Laden's organization would turn its attention to the west.”

Unfortunatley, the US Government doesn't see it this way. For their official explantion, visit the U.S. Government's Department of State's 'Identifying Missinformation' page. And as for the CIA, they issued this official statement in response to the hypothetical question "Has the CIA ever provided funding, training, or other support to Usama Bin Laden?": "No. Numerous comments in the media recently have reiterated a widely circulated but incorrect notion that the CIA once had a relationship with Usama Bin Laden. For the record, you should know that the CIA never employed, paid, or maintained any relationship whatsoever with Bin Laden (emphasis in original)."

The landscape in the film really does looks like Afghanistan, at least from what I’ve seen in TIME Magazine and on CNN. There's the desert, the mountains with cavernous tunnels, skinny men with beards and clothes wrapped around their heads like turbans... even the music for the film conveys the landscape, almost sounding like the great American composer Aaron Copeland’s vivid compositions, portraits themselves of the vast Western American landscape.

Amidst huge explosions and special effects, (3) Rambo almost single-handedly rescues the Colonel, kills off most of the Russians soldiers (4) guarding the fortress, and escapes, which brings more Russian troops after him as he and the Colonel try and reach the border with Pakistan (sound familiar again)? Facing what look like Apache attack helicopters, a few Russian tanks, and about a hundred Russian soldiers, here come the Mujahedeen on horseback to save the day and Rambo’s ass.

As the film fades to black and before the credits begin to roll, Bill Hedley starts his soulful rendition of ‘He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother’. Big bold block white letters appear, simply saying “This film is dedicated to the gallant people of Afghanistan". And then if you actually read the credits, which I don’t think most people do, you learn more interesting facts about the film. Not only was it shot on location in ISRAEL (and Arizona) but the weapons AND helicopters were provided by ISRAEL!

Even more ironic is the special thanks to then U.S. Republican Senator Pete Wilson who would become Governor of California just two years later. WHAT?! And now we’ve got Arnold Schwarzenegger, another Rambo-type in office. Talk about cover-ups and Illuminati conspiracy theories and gross misuse of American tax-payer dollars! (Perhaps a bit of a stretch but for recent news on deteriorating US - Afghani relationships check out the latest blunder as reported in the International Herald Tribune).

1 – Ironically (again) ten days before the first withdrawals of Soviet troops from Afghanistan.

2 – Sly actually co-wrote the film and was nominated for a Razzie award for worst screenplay. He actually WON the Razzie award for worst actor for this film.

3 – According to IMDB, at the time of release this was the most expensive film ever made with a budget weighing in at $63 million. To date the film has grossed $189,015,611 in revenues.

4 – The film was also noted by the Guinness Book of World Records (1990) as the most violent film to date. It was noted with 221 acts of violence and over 108 deaths (IMDB).

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Italy vs. the USA

It's a 1-1 tie with 60:00 minutes on the clock and it seems like the US has been dominating the game so far, at least the first half. It also seems like the referees are a bit card-happy dishing out the red cards a bit unecessarily, prematurely. But at least the US is making a stand, 'playing with heart' as Papa put it.

Now Italy is coming on stronger here in the second half. Both teams need to win this one, not tie, especially the US. It's hard not to catch World Cup fever living here in Argentina. I was woken up yesterday to the honking of horns and shouting on the streets after Argentina, super-well poised to move forward beat, actually slaughtered Serbia-Montenegro, 6-0. But here, the word on the street is the fear of Brazil. No one talks about it but everyone in Argentina fears Brazil, probably the whole world.

The US just scored but there was another penalty and it didn't count. Too many penalties. It's funny how they keep showing blonde American chicks with big tits jumping up and down waving US flags. That's what the rest of the world expects, thinks of Americans, especially American girls. And then the fat US fans, shaking their bellies, also jumping up and down.

Here comes another 'tiro libre' or free kick for the US... missed. Actually the US goal keeper is the hero so far with several excellent saves. 74:00 on the clock and its still 1-1 and here comes another tiro libre for the US. The US has had SO many opportunities to shoot on goal and just can't convert... that's the difference. If Italy had half the chances they probably would have scored twice as many goals by now. At least that's what I think the commentator said in Spanish.

Italy is striking hard with one minute to go. Here they go again... nada. I guess a tie is better than a loss for US!

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Maybe the Revolution WON'T Be Televised

Maybe... it won't even happen at all. I must bring to your attention this interesting and somewhat provocative article by Tony Long who writes for Wired Magazine based out of San Francisco.

Is it really that we are all just too 'busy;' paying rent, buying lofts, getting drunk, or just watching TV to really care, or act or to revolt? Sure we talk and laugh and get MAD about it all, sometimes. But when it really comes down to IT, nothing happens, no one learns and nothing changes. But as we all (or not) learned way back in college, 'the only thing that is constant IS change' (and I can't even remember or find who said it... starts with a 'P'). Something will change...

Here's a quote I did find which is semi-relevant. "It is necessary to understand that war is common, strife is customary, and all things happen because of strife and necessity." Heraclitus 500 B.C.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

The Anonymous Lawyer

OK - here's a slight deviation but just had to throw it out there. This is a letter I just wrote to the Anonymous Lawyer, who's blog is now handily linked over there to the right, towards the top with the other links. He also relaunched their corporate website (including information on their Baghdad office) and has a new book coming out as well (1). All good shit.

Dear Anonymous Lawyer,

After catching pieces of your blog here and there I had to finally
link to it, a privilege that I usually save for close and personal
friends. Perhaps it was watching 'Legally Blond' last night for the
first time, dubbed in Spanish at 4:30am inspired me. Or maybe its my
new 'freelance' virtual sales job with Nolo Press out of Berkeley, selling
sponsored ads for their new nationwide attorney directory for the Fletch Monster, not really
sure.

But I do always at least smile if not laugh when reading the few posts
that I actually take time to read and I know nothing of the legal
profession other than through friends of mine in their late thirties or forties that
work as Paralegals or in the Legal Department, making lots of money and hating every minute of
it.

Keep it up,
Goyo (2)

1 - Here's what Alan Dershowitz, a professor of law at Harvard, and the author of thousands upon thousands of terrific books, including his latest, Preemption: A Knife That Cuts Both Ways, says [about the Anon's new book]:

"I know who the Anonymous Lawyer is! He's my former students, their bosses, and their colleagues at the big firms. This hysterically funny novel made me laugh and cry -- laugh at my profession, and cry for the talented students who sell their souls to these soulless law firms. This is Grey's Anatomy for lawyers, with a touch of Seinfeld. You don't have to be a lawyer to laugh out loud at Anonymous Lawyer. Everybody will be talking about this book and seeing a little bit of themselves in its exaggerated truths."

2 - And low and behold, the Anonymous Lawyer who now writes under the pen name Jeremy Blachman responded within about two hours, hard at work I imagine, late at night.

"Thanks. Your e-mail means a lot. I really appreciate it.

Being a paralegal seems really unbearable. I don't know how your friends do it. Although at least they get paid overtime.

Best,
Jeremy"

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Bar Britanico Y La Copa Mundial

Still hanging on for dear life, our beloved Britanico marches on. The deal is this: they are facing a rent hike of close to $6000AR/mo, which, for its prime ‘tourist-tested’ corner location on Parque Lezama in San Telmo could somehow probably be justified. But for the cheap drinks and the twenty four hour service that Manolo and crew dish up daily, its just too much.

But it still feels like old times, even at 4:30am over a Stella Artois on a Thursday night (Friday morning). A group of Espanoles order round after round of F& C’s (Fernet & Cokes), three large women come in with some very dark blacks, probably from Brazil or Northern Africa. The cat, simply named ‘Cat’ stretches our across the middle of the floor in front of us as we order another Stella.

Then, as if exactly on cue, in walks Tony, the drunken Welsh regular who is also the laughing stock of the Buenos Aires Herald. I first began to blog about Tony back in November when I first arrived, referring to him as simply, ‘Simply Red’. There’s enough of resemblance to warrant the reference. Now he’s just annoying and obnoxious, even when being critiqued from afar in secret.

Tonight he meets up with a lovely-enough younger woman and much to our chagrin begins the biggest mockery of a travesty of a sham that ever existed, as we are forced to shield our eyes and hang our heads as he starts making out with this young thing; brandy glass and cigarette in one hand together, dangling in the air. Luck be a lady tonight as I have to acquiesce, everyone deserves a little loving now and then, even I guess Tony.

Today is Argentina’s first appearance in the World Cup and they are leading over the Ivory Coast 2-0 with 72:00 on the clock. The streets are empty as almost everyone is watching. They cut away to Maradona sitting in the stands with who I think is his daughter. The Ivory Coast finally scores with 82 minutes on the clock and its 2-1. Argentina wins and the party begins.

Note: There is a great, and I mean GREAT exhibition of photos on right now all shot inside the Bar Britanico at a gallery on San Juan 427 (@ Defensa) that is entirely worth checking out. I’ll post more details (like the photographers name) and a few of his photos later.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Ten Dollar Holla

Bad TV (and bad movies on TV) is soo much better when you're in some lawless border town that borders on not just one country but two (that's three countries sharing the same border, thus the triple border region that is Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina). "Hey, I'm not a lesbian, I'm bi-sexual," says the hot blonde and only female member of Average Joe's Dodgeball Team as she finishes making out with some other hot red-head and grabs Vince Vaughn by the shirt and mad kisses him too. They defeat all the odds (50-1 underdogs) and take out Ben Stiller's team and win in the finals in Vegas.

Now I'm watching the Simpons dubbed in Spanish and the phone rings. I imagine its Ethan or eNano as he is known down here which translates to a cross between dwarf and midget, calling from NYC baked off his ass and wanting to talk some more about his pending return to Buenos Aires. He'll be second in command of the USS 'Dos Polares' or 'Two Poles' Antarctic exploration team based here in BA, which we successfully resurrected from the ship grave yard and kept afloat a few months back. Plus no one else knows where we are staying in caudate del Este, at least not which room.

"Hola," I answer.

"Si, yo soy Aldolfo," says the mysterious voice on the other end. "Sam just left en collectivo [bus]," the voice continues but only now in pretty good English.

"He sold his car?" I ask.

"Yeah, we make a good business," says Alfredo.

I had received a note from the front desk upon my return from the car lot saying Sam was with some guy and they had driven 112km. outside of the city to some Ranch (which turned out to be a German Mennonite colony) to sell his car. It sounded a little sketchy but what was I gonna do - there was nothing too do at this point except to continue to watch the Simpons.

"How much did he sell it for?" I ask.

"$1,200USD," says Adolfo.

"And when is he going to be back into town?" I ask again, trying to get all the info I can up front just in case something goes wrong, or already did thinking that now this NOS is riding on a bus in the middle of nowhere with all those greenbacks on him.

"Maybe about an hour, hour and a half," says Aldolfo again in decent English.

"Thanks for the call," I say and hang up, taking a sip off of the Old Smuggler whisky that I smuggled into Paraguay and add a little Coke to it and smile. We can't get Makers down here even if we could afford it. At least the car is gone and off his hands, mind and heart and we can do Ciudad del Este up right on a Friday night despite the repeated warnings.

Outside dusk was approaching and the city swiftly shuts down right at dark leaving its streets deserted and dangerous. I headed out anyways and bought a small Paraguayan flag, changed some money on the street and kept my wits about me despite a few warnings that its not safe to be walking around alone and I didn't even have my camera with me. What a great country!

Friday, June 02, 2006

El Raton Peréz is NOT from Paraguay!

June 2, 2006 - Ciudad del Este
11:45 AM - Barrometric Pressure down to 29.36 inHg

It´s our third or fourth day of hanging just outside of town on a used car lot drinking tereré (cold mate w/o sugar) and talking... about anything and everything. Our guy who owns the used car dealership has invited us to lunch. Sam declines deciding to check out his last two possible buyers and we walk across the street with the owner's daughter and her boyfriend, I think. There´s a bus attendent hanging out of the side of his bus looking for fares with a colorful shirt that just says 'Albert Einstein'.

We eat at the busy comedor about the supermercado and next to the paint store and chat. The Paraguayan version of their history over the past 200 years is very different than say what the Argentines would say, also very different than what the LP South American Guide says, no fault to Morgan Konn I´m sure (also in my previous post I credited Carolyn Hubbard with the Ciudad del Este hotel recommendation when credit due goes to Morgan. We also think Morgan and her writing on Paraguay is some of the strongest in that guide - hats off Morgan!)

It´s always hard to get accurate information about what is really going on and about what has really happened in the past anywhere, especially if you´re a poor thrid world country in Latin America recovering (or still living) under a vicious Dictatorship like Paraguay. Our guy at the car lot is trying to help us but comes clean this afternoon and says he doesn´t have a buyer for the car. We´ve already decided to leave tomorrow morning regardless of what happens today. I´ve been so tempted to jump from here up to the North of Paraguay from some more solo exploration but need to get back to BA and back to real work, RealBuenosAires.com work.

The thing is before arriving in Paraguay I had given up on the speculative rumors of the clandestine US Military base up in the Chaco desert as nothing more than lefty conspirist theories and bad journalism by the Argentine press. Just recently the US Department of State´s 'Identifying Misinformation' Branch updated this report (a MUST READ for anyone that cares about how the US decieves the rest of the world)and completely denounced these rumors as purely false, but inside of Paraguay its a completely different story indeed.

"Not only do they have the base in the Chaco, they´ve got one in Concepción as well," the assistant to the Consul at the Paraguayan consulate in Posadas, Argentina tells me. "They are right next to the Paraguayan bases but no one is allowed near them, not even the Paraguayan military." Since arriving inside of Paraguay, EVERYONE I´ve talked to agrees with him and encourage me to head up to that area to see for myself, but not this trip. Our used car salesman who is also organizing a group to overthrow the current and continuing Dictatorship which hides under the political smokescreen of the current Paraguayan President Nicanor Duarte and his Red Party told me he´s actually seen the US top seceret 'UNO' planes landing and taking off in the desert.

I´ll come back later, better prepared and with a plan. It´s not like I´m going to just run up to the Chaco, take pictures of the bases and get a couple of interviews wtih some US Marines on why they are here in Paraguay. "They´ll put a bullet in your head," one source tells me. But if they do indeed exist as the Consulate in Posadas confirms, Rumsfield is an even bigger liar than I thought cause he was year just last year and denied it over and over. But what was he doing here? This isn´t Iraq, there are no terrorists and its not about emergency medical aid or democracy or even freedom, that much abused and overused word. It´s about sucking the blood out of our neighbors to the South so we can preserve our way of life and stay on top at the expense of most others. But its really about our 'precious bodily fluids...'

After lunch while waiting for Sam to return with or without the car the car sales man stands up and points across the street towards some shacks. "How can those poor people live and cook on the street like that with all the dust and car pollution while two powerful and rich countries just across the rivers from us swim in US Dollars?" he rethoically askes. "You see that guy pissing on that tree? It hurts my eyes and makes my heart ache because I planted it thirty years ago, but where else can he go? There´s no running water and no toilets but yet they [the politicians] drive around in their fancy Mercedes and look the other way," he finishes while sitting down and wiping his eyes.

Black, blue, yellow and green butterflies duck in and out of the shaded overhang as I wait another thirty minutes for Sam chain smoking the worst cigarettes I´ve ever tasted in my life - they smell and taste like rat poison is the closest way I can describe them. That then reminds me of El Raton Peréz which is the Rat named Perez and is the Argentine equivilent of the tooth fairly, only its a rat not a fairy. Two more guys piss on the same tree and then boss tells me he´s got another small meeting to attend but if I need anything to just call him. He gets into a huge white custom pickup truck with tinted windows darker than black smoke and drives off. I wait the thirty minutes for Sam who doesn´t show and grab a cab back to the hotel. [TBC]

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

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.)

Saturday, May 27, 2006

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...

Thursday, May 25, 2006

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

Monday, May 22, 2006

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.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

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.

Monday, May 08, 2006

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

Saturday, April 29, 2006

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.

Monday, April 17, 2006

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?"

Sunday, April 16, 2006

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

Monday, April 10, 2006

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!

Friday, March 31, 2006

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.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

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.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

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!

Sunday, March 12, 2006

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'

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

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.

Monday, March 06, 2006

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.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

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!'

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

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?)