Day Three -- A Tree Hugger?

The walk to the botanical gardens in itself was a treat, and yes, it is early spring. There is the certain 'nip' still in the shade, but once you get into the sunshine it warms the soul. The gardens are across from the zoo, families with little ones are everywhere, the excitement is palpable. I'm on a tree hunt. Driving in I could tell there were alien trees to my little tree library, so I was on a mission to find them, and yes, they were everywhere! And if you ask Al and Melanie, I touched every one of them. Not sure that is fair, but probably is. African, Chinese, Japanese, as well as the South-American ones, and the deciduous ones were fascinating. Spoinky, leathery, and down-right prickly leaves. We found some amazing tree trunks as well, and had to get photos with them. Not much was North-American, but when it was, I just laughed. Yes, they have spirea. Family joke inserted here. (Al hates spirea...)

The native, feral cats of the gardens and amused us as well. It's a real problem in BA that people abandon their cats at the gardens, there are so many everywhere, and signs requesting 'please do not abandon los gatos!' And as promised, the palo borracho with Al showing off. Initially I got confused with who was who... The trees just beginning to flower -- I ask M to please come back in a couple of weeks to take photos -- it's going to be spectacular. And then we happen onto a bird of paradise blooming. How can this be? (my mind cannot understand) A couple mystery vines also coming to life. I wish I had my plant book. (it is 600 pages so I cannot carry it -- not a practical idea). So remarkable. Again I ask for M to come back to take photos. She nods and sighs. She's been my daughter forever and knows how to placate me, although she's got enough of my blood in her that I KNOW she's jazzed as well!

Lunch at Plaza Serrano, people watching, and our first foray of shopping. It had to be shoe shopping, in the tiniest of shops, with at least 100 women in the shop. Good grief. Shoe shopping in English can be confusing, but in Argentine Spanish, watching your purse carefully (that now weighs 150 kilos) and 'please may I try this in fuchsia in the next size up'... Are we kidding? Al was wise and just continued his people watching outside the store. It was fun tho!! I now understand why M hesitates to go shopping. It's not as easy as it could be!

Back to the flat for mi siesta necesario and a creative dinner in. We hit the bakery, cheese shop, and opened a bottle of Malbec. Insert a sigh of contentment that cannot be replicated. Ever. M (being M) had prepared the flat with some delicious salami, chunked turkey, sliced jamon... The Fontina here is a hard cheese -- but delicious in it's own right. Thick rinds, but definitely worth the effort. In the dessert category Al won this time. No idea what he got, but with the grated dark chocolate on top of the whipped cream, well. There you have it. And I managed to be up after midnight! The life of a porteño!

Day Two -- Our Luck Continues!

What a gorgeous day we had yesterday! After a slow morning, Melanie decided to take us on a bit of a walking tour of some of the sites of the city: Av. 9 de Julio, the Teatro Colon, the national Cathedral and the Casa Rosada. We walked up to Plaza Italia to take the subte (the Buenos Aires metro system) downtown, and realized that Melanie wasn't exaggerating about everyone looking miserable all the time. After about one stop, Al asked Melanie, "How do you say 'smile?'"

We emerged from the subte facing the Obelisk (not much different than any other obelisk) and after a quick stop into a Christmas ornament store, did a bit of walking around on Av. 9 de Julio. My goodness, what a busy street! It's one of the widest and busiest streets in the world, and I will always remember watching the sea of people crossing at every light. It reminded me of Picadilly Circus -- but bigger and much more confused.

Our wandering led us to Tribunales, the square in front of the court building and the subte station Melanie uses to get to classes. She mentioned that the square looks a lot prettier in daylight - all her classes are at night! I made her promise to return during daylight in late Spring, as I saw what looked like the hugest and most incredible rhododendron tree ever! I made her SWEAR to take a picture when it blooms!

We got lunch in a street cafe near the square and then hopped back onto the subte to Catedral to see the national cathedral and the casa rosada. The cathedral looked so unlike a cathedral from the outside that we asked someone where it was while standing on its steps (!), but inside it was quite lovely. No concert in our honor this time, but as we were walking towards the doors, Melanie pulled me back so I narrowly escaped walking right into a cadre of fully uniformed guards (equipped with sabres...) that had come to open the gates of the tomb of General San Martin, the man who liberated Argentina so easily he decided to cross the Andes and liberate a few other countries while he was at it. It was awesome to watch, and we just laughed at our luck! Two days, two churches, two remarkable things to see!

We met the old guard's modern counterpart when we went to take pictures in front of the Casa Rosada ("Like the White House, but pink," said Melanie) and saw a unit of riot police marching around in full gear. We think there was an animal rights protest planned for the afternoon, but we scooted home for a nap before any of that started. Maybe next time.

Melanie and Al went grocery shopping while I was asleep, and after I got up, Melanie and I poked into two stores within a block of our flat--one vintage and one modern. We didn't find much, but I did get a cute sun hat for our trips to the garden and to Uruguay! Home to get dolled up, and then we went to a highly-recommended restaurant, La Cabrera.

How YUMMY! For a total of $75 including a generous tip, the three of us ordered twice as much meat as we could eat, plus a bottle of wine inspired by Andy jumping over the moon (Andeluna, it was called), plus two incredibly decadent desserts. Melanie and I made quick work of them, and when the waiter came back, Al informed the waiter that we were "Las Vulturas." Like the complimentary glasses of champagne we got with our dessert, we left the restaurant feeling quite bubbly, and giggled the whole way home.

Today, Melanie is taking us to the botanical gardens. I am so excited to see all the strange and wonderful plants. In our taxi ride back from our sightseeing yesterday, I saw a huge wisteria in full bloom, so I'm very curious to see what's growing and blooming in the beginning of Spring! I'm amazed at some of the things I've seen overwintering outside here! I'm sure I'll drive Al and Melanie crazy taking pictures of flowers, but it surely won't be the first time I've done that!

I'm so glad that we came. We're having a lovely time, and it's so wonderful to see our girl in her new city. She's become quite the city girl. She's more comfortable in this atmosphere than I'd ever be, it's a tough place and you have to be pretty tough to live in it! Never fear, though, I'm still getting snuggles I need.

more later...gardens await!

and then they sang...

so we slept like the dead and woke refreshed! The city was just coming to life as M said it would. We took a taxi to her lovely little apartment. It's darling! Just perfect for her. Tiny kitchen as she said, but suitable, and if she uses every surface as a countertop. Reminds me of my first little tiny apt all those years ago!

We walked out to her square, and looked at the amazing Cathedral Guadalupe, and of course wanted to peek inside...and I don't know who was singing, but it was holy and amazing. We have that kind of luck. In Chartre, Santorini, our first Mass in England at Westminster Cathedral where they were doing a Mozart Mass in A minor -- I don't think it's luck, I think it's by the grace of God, truly.



Dinner was a hoot, bowls of different kinds of stews. She got a butternut squash something over chicken, Dad got a peach, prune, different meat something, but I lucked out with lentils and jamon and mixed salted meats. I won the jackpot. It was delightful!

And the things that grow here. My goodness. The drive in from the airport yesterday I had my head hanging out the window. The driver, Aldo spoke no English but his Spanish was 'neutral' he said, and he was easy to understand for Dad and I. M had to translate some, but not much. The palo borrecho or 'beer-belly' trees I will have to take a photo of. They are great! It's like March here -- deciduous trees are just leafing out now. But hibiscus are outside and BLOOMING. Fig trees are outside and sporting new growth. There are palms of course. But still. We are nearly in the tropics here. But, we see familiar allysum blooming. Right by the outdoor amaryllis. Mind blowing. Very difficult to comprehend.

We're off to new explorations today. How absolutely wonderful. More later.

Day One -- Trip of a Lifetime

Dear Friends,

We made it! After a long, long journey, we're in an amazingly beautiful flat on the 7th floor of an 8 floor building in the gorgeous neighborhood of Palermo Viejo. Melanie's neighborhood is close, although we've not made it that far. Tonite we'll wander over to see.

Getting to the airport in Dayton was more difficult that I'd hoped. As always I thought I was organized. Ha! Then we hit I-75 Highway 4 traffic. For once I was happy that Dad had forced me out early! And, that early check-in over the internet is really cool too!!

Flying through Houston was my first time in that airport but I do remember the gulf level of humidity. That's a special treat! Geez oh pete! There were lots of little ones on that flight who were extremely well behaved, so when there were several on the overnight flight I was optimistic. Hahahaha!!!

Let's just say it could have been better! Screaming 18th month olds at 3am, well, they aren't my favorite. Let's just say their mothers weren't my favorites. Had they ever heard the word 'no'? Or said it?

Landing in BA, both of us wondered what the heck Melanie had done to herself three months ago! How had she done this? That's my girl! Customs was a breeze and collecting bags was better than expected, and as soon as we passed through the airport doors we were totally barraged with 'offers' of taxi rides, rental cars, etc. I was not expecting such an enthusiastic welcome! I hadn't seen that kind of offering, or barking from folks since we lived abroad -- and I cannot remember where.

Seeing Melanie was a joy -- she looks wonderful! And watching her communication skills is a treat! The Argentinian-Spanish, from what I can tell from less than a day, is SO DIFFERENT from what I have ever experienced. She's right!!

Pronunciations like the 'll' I'm used to being a 'y' are a 'sh'!! I still want to make them 'll' being a stupid American -- so the poor Argentinians get a total of three words now instead of one! Complete lack of communication skill from me!

And, folks speak into their collars. And mush words together. We noticed that on the plane. Following English, the Spanish translation was given, obviously, but neither of us could understand. Maybe we'll get better, but in a week, I doubt it! Also -- speed is the key. The faster the better!!

Nevermind. She looks beautiful, and she's communicating much better than I expected. But I knew that going in! It's great to watch.

Tomorrow I'll write on what I've seen so far -- and it is amazing. So much to take in! But today is for snuggles.

Guadalupe

My writer's strike is over, less because of a magical dissolution of the feelings that led me to stop than a realization that moments are starting to pass me by. I'm writing because of the sound of church bells.

Before I went to Europe in the summer of 2005, I asked a photographer exhibiting incredible pictures of the forgotten architecture of the Alpine countries at the Tri-Rivers Arts festival for the most important piece of advice he could give me. His reply?

"Always look up."

If the theme for Europe is "always look up," the motto of Buenos Aires seems to be "never look up." On top of the pick pockets, huge crowds and homicidal maniac drivers, I'm convinced that BsAs has th largest dog poop to sidewalk ratio of any city outside of Asia (I've never been to Asia, so I can't say.) If you find yourself enjoying the scenery and don't get hit by a car or rammed into by a business woman, you'll step in crap. It's a law.

So it happened that I'd walked to the corner café a block from my new apartment. It was called Guadalupe, which I misread to say Guatemala, and assumed it was so named because it sits at the corner of Medrano, Paraguay and Guatemala. I was sitting in the seventy-two degree afternoon air with a stack of reading and a cup of tea when I heard the bells begin to ring.

I'd heard the bells before, they reached my old apartment on breezy days, but this sounded closer. Setting down a truly un-engrossing article, I remembered that the Cathedral was a couple of blocks from my new place, so I might be able to see it from where I sat. I looked over my shoulder across the street and realized that I was sitting a highlighter's throw from Guadalupe herself, explaining why the Holy Mother's picture was on the napkins. How do you walk adjacent to and then sit for an entire afternoon across from a cathedral and not realize it?

Sitting there, watching the pigeons and wondering what the stained glass looked like from the inside, I realized that I'd let all the dogshit in this city keep me from seeing the sacred among the profane.

I'm not writing for you. Not one of you is so busy that you can't spend ten minutes once a month to let me know how you are and that you think of me at all. I'm writing this to remember. And if you happen to read it once a month when you're bored and have run out of other ways to waste time online, well? I can't stop you.

Argentina is American Too

I know I said I might post today, but instead, I've decided to go completely insane. Less than one hour ago, I decided I'm going to have people over three hours from now to have an American Night in celebration of the 4th being yesterday. I know I can make mom's hamburger recipe, but I have NO idea how I'm going to make American sides abroad, and it's raining, and I don't know if ANYONE will come, so I have NO idea how much meat to buy.

God I'm nuts.

But there'll be a wii with rockband, and American music, and hamburgers and oven fries, and hopefully chips and guacamole, and I'm going to try to make rice krispy treats and ghetto Argentine smores.

Stay tuned...

Love Letter to America

Well, it’s just another Saturday afternoon here in chilly Buenos Aires. I allowed myself to be talked into staying out until a truly ludicrous hour, for which I’d feel very disappointed in myself if not for the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my life happening to me at a time of day responsible people usually wake. Seriously, carne asado on fresh baked bread from a street vendor by the river. I could sculpt my feelings for that sandwich. Of course, that means that I’m finally getting around to spending a day in bed today to fully recover from this dark cloud of a head cold that’s been hanging over me all week. Hardly my usual Fourth of July.

So I’m taking a half hour out of my busy day doing Spanish homework and watching movies with subtitles with a hot tea IV to write a love letter to the homeland. There are things that you don’t realize you love about America until *you’re not in it.* Important caveat: one should not infer from this list that I don’t love Argentina. I can write that post tomorrow, if you’d like.

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT AMERICA
A non-traditional partial list by
Melanie “resfria” Janiszewski

I love that in America, going out dancing means a 3am bedtime, not 8am. I love that in America, if you say, “I’m really tired, I think I’ll go home,” people say “Okay, I’ll call you next week! Thanks for coming out!” instead of “NOOOOO! If you go home I’ll be the only woman with five men!/Just come for five minutes!/If you leave, I won’t have an excuse to make them go home!/It’s the best sandwich in Buenos Aires!” Note to self: get better at saying NO.

I love Mucinex D. As I was sitting on the wall overlooking Ria Plata blanketed in fog, I turned to Lucho, the Argentino sitting next to me whose name is actually Luciano, and said, “I am going to die tomorrow.” “Please do not jump! I care about you!” “No, Lucho, I have a cold, and it is 6:30am, and I am sitting on the edge of a river eating asado. Tomorrow, I am going to die.” When I got home, I felt truly grotesque, but in a last ditch effort to preserve my life, I took a mucinex before crashing. Amazingly, I feel better today than I have any right to feel. God, American pharmaceutical companies are awful creatures, but they do make some good products.

I love my parents’ house. It’s in the forefront of my mind today, because as I write this, Mom and Dad are probably bustling around frantically before you all arrive, with your fruit salads and awesome baked beans and homemade coleslaw. Dad has a bigger bag of illicit explosives than ever, as always, and in about an hour he’ll sneak either Sammy or Adam to take a look, or maybe both. It’ll be hot enough to cook a cold out of me but not miserable, and there will be water balloons and sparklers and mom’s hamburgers and all of you. Man, guys, I wish I was there. Don’t get me wrong, I’m right where I want to be. But if I could somehow manage to be in Ohio for about six hours, yeah, that’d be pretty great.

Because I love all of you. I’m not miserably homesick, at least not yet. I really love my new home town, more so now that I’ve started language classes, and I can’t think of a place I’d rather be, the next six hours aside. I’m getting oriented to life, if not the city geographically, and I can only imagine things’ll get better. At least I hope they do. I gotta say, the 6am weekend thing is really getting old, and I always find that I somehow become five years less mature when I’m in a foreign country for some reason. But I do love you, and wish I could be with you today. After all, in a weird kind of way, I am happy in my new life because of all of you, and because of my life in America.

So thank you, America, for Argentina. I love you, motherland. Happy Birthday.