ARGENTINA - WAX 038

FLOR TE AMO...

LSD - Designer Discount Bags

Neverland Ferris Wheel - Abasto Shopping

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

Industrial Urban Chic - Puerto Madero

The Warewolf of Buenos Aires

Shining like a star - Veronica

Nat whirling in her own kinetic energy

Shrine by the Puente de la Mujer - Puerto Madero

Home Sweet Home!

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

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

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

El Dia de Boludo!

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

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

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

Los Patios del Sol

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

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

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

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

Buenos Aires de Nuevo - Observaciones

A couple of abbreviated observations in absence of recent posts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gracias a todo for reading my blog...

CHAU!
Goyo

Casino Royale

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Spring Whirlwind

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

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

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

Shesheo Facil

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

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

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

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

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

Lamo Lo-Fi Technology

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

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

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

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

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

Sierra Escape – Parte Dos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sierra Escape - California Style

August 25, 2006 - 2:15 pm

Breezing along California Highway 4 almost to Angles Camp, approaching Copperopolis – Elevation: 971’, population 2,623. “Get with IT!” says Marina, about what I do not recall. She’s just as excited as I am to be out of the city, a city, any city - heading up to God’s country. We blow through Murphy’s and then pickup the canoe in Arnold and head on up towards Bear Valley to the little clandestine lake that has kept me coming back and back for almost ten years.

I check my watch and the pressure is dropping as we hit 1,578’ in elevation. The first signs of California pine trees. Another rise in the road puts us at 1,700’ and climbing. We roll into Angels Camp and pull over to check on the canoe on Steele’s Range Rover 4.6 HSE. “It’s fine,” Steele says in that authoritative but somewhat doubting and slightly unsure but still confident way. “I think the straps stretched a little back on the freeway,” he confirms loudly over the din of cars cruising by us. Outside air temperature is 93º with the barometric pressure at 28.27 inches of mercury but is unconfirmed as to its accuracy.

We pass the Angles Theater, Orphan Annie’s Thrift Emporium and the Calaveras County jumping frog out in front of the local volunteer fire department. This is Mark Twain country, no wait John Steinbeck… wait, what’s that one authors name that wrote about this part of California, about the jumping frogs of Calaveras County? A home made sign on the side of the road advertises Square Dancing lessons every Tuesday.

Murphys – 2,171’ elv. and its clear that my watch is off compared to the officially marked elevation signs. Maybe it has a hard time calibrating itself from a moving vehicle, not sure. There’s the Highway Café & Deli right next to Murphy’s Village Market. Bret Harte, that’s the authors name, not nearly as well known as those other two. As we roll out of Muryphys the highway sign says Big Trees 14 miles, Bear Valley 36 – almost there. Oaks, pines, manzinita, black berry bushes, grapes and an occasional aspen grace the terrain on both sides of us as we continue to climb.

We cruise through Hathaway Pines at 3,415' with a population of seven hundred and something and enter into the Stanislaus National Forrest. As we continue our ascent into the mountains, the oaks start to dissipate, giving way to more and more pine trees. Arnold is just another 4 miles up the road where we hit SNAC (1) to get our canoe. There are those classic, kitschy and somewhat commonplace for these parts, chain-sawed bears carved out of pine logs, some standing as tall as a tall man, for sale on the side of the road. We’ve got the iTunes hooked into the car stereo. This road trip soundtrack consists of, amongst others – The Kills, Elliot Smith, White Stripes, Gillian Welsh, Simon & Garfunkel, Scissor Sisters, Metric, The Magnetic Fields, and Seu Jorge from the soundtrack to ‘The Life Aquatic’ where he does those simple acoustic David Bowie covers.

Big trees and big, big rocks whiz by on both sides of the highway as we sail through Camp Connell, Doyle and then Dorrington, climbing up through 5,000’. Every once in awhile there are a few young and beautiful redwood trees towering over us on both sides of the highway. Finally we catch a glimpse of a view through the trees and across Bear Valley basin towards the top of the Sierras to the East. A solid blue California summer sky stretches overhead for miles and miles with not even so much as one single cloud to be seen. There’s Big Meadow campground, not a bad option for those not in the know, those that want easier access to the Sierras, the less adventurous – the common folk. But we continue onward, up into the high country, finally turning off of Hwy. 4 (at an undisclosed turnoff - undisclosed for a reason which is to keep this secret and somewhat sacred spot) for another nine miles on a winding mountain road, down to the Stanislaus river and back up again to the lake. This is the most scenic part of the entire trip as we roll up to the canoe launch. [TBC]

1 - SNAC is the Sierra Nevada Adventure Company where Sean and his friendly staff help mountain-goers with all of their Sierra adventure needs.

Goyo Goes Gonzo in El Congreso

“Con la plata, baile el mono” (1)

And suddenly with little preplanning and a simple invite from one of the press liaisons for an ‘official’ Argentine elected official, from Mendoza, there I was - sitting in an old balcony booth draped with aging red curtains and tiny red seats, imagining that this was the same type of booth that perhaps former U.S. President Abraham Lincoln was shot in, or was it John Wilkes Booth who was actually in the booth… or both? (2) Below me looks like some kind of set from a movie, maybe some movie I’ve never even seen before, or maybe I’m thinking of C-SPAN, but its impressive - the Argentine Camera de Diputadas – or the equivalent of the U.S. House of [non] Representatives.

Modern day Argentine politics, despite what most Argentines would rather not admit, was actually modeled after the U.S. political system including the original version of Argentina’s Constitution, first ratified after several draft attempts and a civil war, in 1852. Still in effect today (although its been modified several times, mostly recently in 1994) even after several military juntas or interim military dictatorships (the most recent was the one between 1973-1984 where up to 30,000 dissidents or leftists were systematically tortured, slaughter and disappeared, a verb that doesn’t even exist in English) completely bypassed it and the entire political system altogether (obvio) (3). The constitution created the executive office of the President, the Legislative Congress, consisting of an ‘upper’ Senate (73 seats) voted in to serve four year terms and a ‘lower’ Chamber of Deputies (257 seats) which is proportionally based on population within the given provinces throughout Argentina, and an independent judiciary Supreme Court.

The semi-circular arc below is filled with rows and rows of dark mahogany desks, all with individually built-in copper ashtrays, identical microphones encased in yet more mahogany and that little red light that indicates when, where and who is speaking at any given time. Each desk is also accompanied by dark leather swiveling and reclining chairs and a high-tech fingerprint recognition voting system that lets the deputies digitally sign in at any of the desks and vote yeah or nay on whatever the current issue at hand may be.

Today is Wednesday, which is the one-day per week that both the Senate and the Deputies normally gather to meet, talk and vote. It’s very interesting to watch at least but even though I’ve just recently passed level four Spanish at the UBA and can pick up most of what’s being said, I haven’t the faintest idea on the context or what’s being talked about or voted on. Whatever it is, it passes overwhelmingly as illustrated on the oversized TV monitor bank that is the only thing besides the fingerprint voting system that even resembles anything remotely new in this very old-world Congress building.

But what really amazes me is the behind the scenes scene, upstairs and down the hall from the Deputies and the Senate floors, around the paint-chipped-and-peeling- corner and down another unlit hallway and behind closed doors. This is where the real action takes place and this is where I sit for almost six hours; listening, lurking, leering and learning that what goes on behind the scenes in Argentine politics STAYS behind the scenes. Visions of mafia bosses and money laundering schemes fill my head and it’s like I’m in a Woody Allen film that never got made due to speculative lack of acceptance by the American viewing public when initially pitched to financial backers.

There are two woman sitting at opposing desks; one in her late thirties and almost my height (read: very, very tall), sexy and super skinny that the other refers to as flaca and one that is thirty, cute and bit chubby (especially by Argentine standards) that the flaca does NOT refer to as gordi, which means gorda or ‘fatty’ and is actually a common term of endearment here and not an insult like it would be perceived in the States.

The flaca has her high heels on her desk as she chain smokes Marlboro Reds in her pin-stripped suit, sipping on yerba mate while gordi answers her desk phone and moto-razor cell simultaneously while typing on an ancient computer and reading her emails back to someone on one of the lines she’s holding. The phones keep ringing and flaca keeps screaming, in this passionate Latina-type way sounding and appearing upset even though I was later told that she was happy and just a bit excited.

Trapped but enthralled, without an official escort back to my awaiting and expired California drivers license that I left with security at the side entrance to the Congress, I hammer away on my laptop until the battery dies and gordi finishes her meeting with an unnamed Senator regarding President Kirchner’s upcoming visit to Mendoza this week. They are trying to bring the more extreme leftist factions in Mendoza together to the barely-left-of-center Kirchner point of view (4) along with others in his ever-growing and strong political block. We finally leave at close to 11PM and hit the cold and freshly rained-upon streets. Thanks gordi for everything – Dios Mio!

1 - “With money, the monkey dances” which is a popular saying here that I just learned recently from a local cab driver. Basically, with money… anything’s possible. And not in terms of the American dream crap; rather like you could hire anyone to do anything here, or kill twenty people for example, and not have to go to jail. Or rob the country blind and sell off all the national assets to foreign interests and not go to jail because there is no ‘proof’, like ex-president and current Senator Carlos Menem allegedly did.

2 – Actually, Lincoln was in the booth when Booth came in and shot him in that very same both. Wikipedia gives a detailed explanation of the entire Lincoln assassination at Ford’s Theatre in Washington D.C. on April 14, 1865.

3 – Obvio means ‘obviously’ in Spanish and, as was explained to me in Level Four Spanish by my professor, is slightly more ironic than claro, which means ‘of course’ or ‘clearly’ (lit.).

4 - Kirchner's current leanings are against former President Menem's 'strictly aligned with the U.S.' and is very left-of-center in terms of U.S. politics. Led by Venezualan President Hugo Chavez, the anit-American MercoSur is a group of South American countries that are trying to move away from what they deem as American Imperialist tendencies and to exist largely on their own without the traditional influence of the American government or military... more on MercoSur later, but needless to say, Paraguay is a token member despite of the influx of U.S. monetary aid and military presecence under the guise of 'joint military exercises.'