As I was walking home Tuesday night, an Argentine man started softly calling to me, “Usted es la más linda…va a matar a todos la belleza.” A compliment to which I just started laughing my ass off…and he continued on his merry way, as if nothing unusual had just occurred.
For all ye non-Spanish speakers, my new Argentine friend said something like, “You’re the prettiest…your beauty will kill everyone.”
Die, everyone, die! Mwahahahaha...!
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
This broad’s abroad for Thanksgiving
(Editor's note: This post was written on Thanksgiving morning but the telecommunications gods decided to cut my phone and internet access about two weeks ago. You'll just have to forgive me for being late.)
One of the most difficult things about living overseas is the result of the need to make choices about when to travel home and how to balance priorities. Essentially, this means that I often miss out on some of the most important events in my friends’ and family’s lives. It is seldom that I am able to go back to the good ol’ U.S. of A for weddings, funerals, births, bar/bat mitzvahs, birthdays, promotions, or holidays. Although this is frustrating and often leads me to feel wistful and heartsick (because, frankly, I really do love you guys – something I don’t say often enough, I think), the hardest time of year to be away from home is on Thanksgiving.
Of all the holidays in all the cultures of the world, for me, nothing compares to our tradition of gathering all the disparate branches of our family tree together under one roof to share some laughter, food, dirty jokes, tears, joys, hopes, and the year’s most enormous meal. A few of you have been lucky enough to participate in one of my family’s Thanksgivings – and even a luckier few have been around for our pajama Thanksgiving! – so you know firsthand how special they can be. Unlike many other American families, we don’t disappear after the meal to unbutton our pants and watch football in self-contented silence. It is all family (and friends!), all the time. Plus food, all that glorious, glorious food.
Over the years, things have changed, which have altered our Thanksgivings forever. The most important change was the passing of my grandmother, Nonnie, who was the clear matriarch of our family and who hosted the most amazing family meals ever. To this day, we all still gather around the table and share stories about her (and especially her stuffed artichokes!). This year, I find myself thinking about her quite a bit. I think she would have really been delighted to know that I joined the Foreign Service and am now a true “global citizen,” for she dearly loved to travel. I also think there are many people who have entered into my life that she would have really enjoyed meeting (not to mention pinching their butts!); it is sad to know that she isn’t here anymore to share our stories. But I sincerely give thanks for having had her in my life for as long as I did and being able to love and cherish her as my grandmother. Te mando un beso y un abrazo al cielo, Nonnie.
The other change that looms large in my life has everything to do with this nomadic life I lead. As I may have mentioned to you, within the past year or so, I moved four times, and lived in four different countries. This has been a difficult year emotionally and physically, not to mention financially. What that essentially means is that I didn’t have the time, nor the energy, nor the financial reserves to get my sorry butt home to Massachusetts for turkey day – making this the second time in three years that I am not home for Thanksgiving. And, as if I couldn’t be sad enough on my own, every time I can’t make it home, da’ Momma calls with tears in her voice and tells me how much she misses me. I miss you, too, da’ Momma, and I love you BESTEST. Now stop making me cry, dammit!
That is not to say that Thanksgiving is ruined for me, by any means. This year, I am co-hosting Turkey Day dinner with my friend, Petra, and I am in charge of the turkey. If our count is even remotely correct (which it is highly unlikely it is, since we have had many changes to the guest list), there should be about eight of us sitting down to dinner in just a few short hours. And last night, there were about twelve to fifteen of us at a pre-Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the Gunny Sergeant of the Marines. So I haven’t been alone for a moment. I am surrounded by friends, and laughter, and ten tons of incredible homemade food. But I carry my family in my heart, as well as all the friends from before, who can’t always be with me.
One of the most difficult things about living overseas is the result of the need to make choices about when to travel home and how to balance priorities. Essentially, this means that I often miss out on some of the most important events in my friends’ and family’s lives. It is seldom that I am able to go back to the good ol’ U.S. of A for weddings, funerals, births, bar/bat mitzvahs, birthdays, promotions, or holidays. Although this is frustrating and often leads me to feel wistful and heartsick (because, frankly, I really do love you guys – something I don’t say often enough, I think), the hardest time of year to be away from home is on Thanksgiving.
Of all the holidays in all the cultures of the world, for me, nothing compares to our tradition of gathering all the disparate branches of our family tree together under one roof to share some laughter, food, dirty jokes, tears, joys, hopes, and the year’s most enormous meal. A few of you have been lucky enough to participate in one of my family’s Thanksgivings – and even a luckier few have been around for our pajama Thanksgiving! – so you know firsthand how special they can be. Unlike many other American families, we don’t disappear after the meal to unbutton our pants and watch football in self-contented silence. It is all family (and friends!), all the time. Plus food, all that glorious, glorious food.
Over the years, things have changed, which have altered our Thanksgivings forever. The most important change was the passing of my grandmother, Nonnie, who was the clear matriarch of our family and who hosted the most amazing family meals ever. To this day, we all still gather around the table and share stories about her (and especially her stuffed artichokes!). This year, I find myself thinking about her quite a bit. I think she would have really been delighted to know that I joined the Foreign Service and am now a true “global citizen,” for she dearly loved to travel. I also think there are many people who have entered into my life that she would have really enjoyed meeting (not to mention pinching their butts!); it is sad to know that she isn’t here anymore to share our stories. But I sincerely give thanks for having had her in my life for as long as I did and being able to love and cherish her as my grandmother. Te mando un beso y un abrazo al cielo, Nonnie.
The other change that looms large in my life has everything to do with this nomadic life I lead. As I may have mentioned to you, within the past year or so, I moved four times, and lived in four different countries. This has been a difficult year emotionally and physically, not to mention financially. What that essentially means is that I didn’t have the time, nor the energy, nor the financial reserves to get my sorry butt home to Massachusetts for turkey day – making this the second time in three years that I am not home for Thanksgiving. And, as if I couldn’t be sad enough on my own, every time I can’t make it home, da’ Momma calls with tears in her voice and tells me how much she misses me. I miss you, too, da’ Momma, and I love you BESTEST. Now stop making me cry, dammit!
That is not to say that Thanksgiving is ruined for me, by any means. This year, I am co-hosting Turkey Day dinner with my friend, Petra, and I am in charge of the turkey. If our count is even remotely correct (which it is highly unlikely it is, since we have had many changes to the guest list), there should be about eight of us sitting down to dinner in just a few short hours. And last night, there were about twelve to fifteen of us at a pre-Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the Gunny Sergeant of the Marines. So I haven’t been alone for a moment. I am surrounded by friends, and laughter, and ten tons of incredible homemade food. But I carry my family in my heart, as well as all the friends from before, who can’t always be with me.
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| The hostesses doing their best Vanna White meets Martha Stewart, "Hey look at my table settings!" pose. |
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| Los Walton (minus Neil). |
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| Dude, Nile is so photogenic (sometimes). |
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| Diego was totally in love with Nile. I think he wants one! |
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| Just before the turkey carnage got into full swing. |
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| My family for the day: buen provecho! |
Some day I hope to have goals
Recently I was asked what I want in life. The question was within the parameters of romantic relationships, and I was certainly taken aback by the question since I realized that the answer has changed so much over time. I distinctly remember my dad once advising me to “find someone similar to you so you get along, but with enough differences that you have something to talk about.” Which could very easily explain why Vince and I are no longer even friends (although this could very much have to do with a recent Facebook message he sent me, apropos of nothing, to inform me that I am now, have always been, and always will be a truly horrible human being), but it doesn’t stretch far enough to explain why Anthony and I couldn’t make it work. After all, I thought we were going to get married and have beautiful baby together (singular usage definitely intended).
While I still think that what my father said holds true, there is so much more to finding a life partner than that, some of which is completely inexplicable because it’s more on a cellular, chemical level. But some of it is far easier to rationalize – which is clearly what a logical person like myself does to explain why, after a decade defined by two long-term relationships, I find myself single once again.
The rationalizing? I compare men I meet or have met to the men I’ve dated – a few key things from each relationship certainly stick out in my brain as things I would like to improve upon in the next, and hopefully last, round. Not all of the sticking points are about the men, either, because I could certainly learn to be kinder, more present, more forgiving, more open, more loving, and clearly more communicative (a good friend of mine recently told me how surprised she was to find out how emotionally inaccessible I am – apparently there’s room for improvement). Or, I could turn Vince’s world upside down and just stop being such a no-good, very bad, horrible person.
But regarding the question of what I want in a romantic partner, I’ve got a list nebulously started in my brain. I am sure there is more to it than just the following, but I’ll share with you a few of the highlights. I am hoping for a man who…
• Loves me for who I am and who I have the potential to be;
• Is my best friend;
• Is a man who I respect, and who values loyalty, honor and honesty;
• Communicates (with me, preferably);
• Knows that relationships require a lot of care and attention, and that difficulties will come, but is committed to seeing them through;
• Will love my family and make sacrifices for them, just as he would with his own family;
• Laughs with me about everything and nothing – and helps me laugh at myself.
Basically, I am just looking for someone to grow old with me and who will share all of life’s ups and downs with me – and do it gratefully, gladly, respectfully and with love. Somehow, I don’t think this is too much to ask.
(Mel, this totally reminds me of that conversation we had years ago about the kind of partner you were looking for…you said something along the lines of doctor or lawyer, plays the piano, not Asian…I wonder how much you’ve revised your list since then?)
While I still think that what my father said holds true, there is so much more to finding a life partner than that, some of which is completely inexplicable because it’s more on a cellular, chemical level. But some of it is far easier to rationalize – which is clearly what a logical person like myself does to explain why, after a decade defined by two long-term relationships, I find myself single once again.
The rationalizing? I compare men I meet or have met to the men I’ve dated – a few key things from each relationship certainly stick out in my brain as things I would like to improve upon in the next, and hopefully last, round. Not all of the sticking points are about the men, either, because I could certainly learn to be kinder, more present, more forgiving, more open, more loving, and clearly more communicative (a good friend of mine recently told me how surprised she was to find out how emotionally inaccessible I am – apparently there’s room for improvement). Or, I could turn Vince’s world upside down and just stop being such a no-good, very bad, horrible person.
But regarding the question of what I want in a romantic partner, I’ve got a list nebulously started in my brain. I am sure there is more to it than just the following, but I’ll share with you a few of the highlights. I am hoping for a man who…
• Loves me for who I am and who I have the potential to be;
• Is my best friend;
• Is a man who I respect, and who values loyalty, honor and honesty;
• Communicates (with me, preferably);
• Knows that relationships require a lot of care and attention, and that difficulties will come, but is committed to seeing them through;
• Will love my family and make sacrifices for them, just as he would with his own family;
• Laughs with me about everything and nothing – and helps me laugh at myself.
Basically, I am just looking for someone to grow old with me and who will share all of life’s ups and downs with me – and do it gratefully, gladly, respectfully and with love. Somehow, I don’t think this is too much to ask.
(Mel, this totally reminds me of that conversation we had years ago about the kind of partner you were looking for…you said something along the lines of doctor or lawyer, plays the piano, not Asian…I wonder how much you’ve revised your list since then?)
Saturday, November 20, 2010
31 is wild and wonderful
My birthday really started on Thursday night, when Petra and I decided to go to Kau Kaleshen for dinner. This entirely vegetarian restaurant is the brainchild of our El Chalten guide from Thursday, Paola, and her husband, who both attended culinary school. When we found out that Paola owned a restaurant, and it was off the main street in El Calafate (I like to stray from the normal touristy areas when I can), we were all in. The restaurant is set off a quiet side street and is inside of a real home - the feel is very warm and inviting, as if you´re visiting a friend´s house and not just another restaurant. We enjoyed a pumpkin and ginger spread on our pre-meal bread; a really delicious pumpkin and orange cream soup (trust me on this one - it might sound like a strange combination, but it´s quite yummy); and a never-ending veggie and bread cheese fondue. My stomach was stuffed to Thanksgiving-like proportions by the end of the meal and still there was more. We ordered their black forrest dessert, which Paola served us herself, with a complimentary bottle of Chandon 187 to celebrate my birthday. It was a simply fantastic meal, with such excellent service, that I don´t hesitate in highly recommending this restaurant to anyone and everyone who travels through El Calafate. I wish Paola and Albert the best of success in their restaurant business!
Then Friday was my actual birthday. Up at 6-ish, trying to wait patiently for my alarm to go off at 6:45 - it´s amazing how little your body is able to relax after such a tightly managed schedule for so long - and then it was off to hike on a glacier! It is really hard to describe how awesome an adventure that was. You take a bus to a boat, and you are standing in full view of one of only two glaciers in the world that are not receding (they´re stable, not advancing): Perito Moreno. The guides told us that it is one of the lowest glaciers in the world as well, located only about 180 meters above sea level, with the average glacier being located around 2,000 meters above sea level. So you can actually enjoy this glacier without freezing your tush off!!!
Well, Petra and I are kind of a force to behold, each one of us feeding off of the energy and laughter of the other, so by the time we were getting off the boat to start our glacier trek, we had concluded that the guides were going to rue the day that they got us as part of their tour. It quickly became our motto of the day: "Rue the day!" we´d shout and then flash two thumbs up. It sounds silly now, but it had us laughing through the whole day. When I finally get back to my own computer in Buenos Aires and have the capacity to upload photos (and don´t have to struggle with this Spanish keyboard), you will note how many of our pictures of us sporting our thumbs up and flashing big goofy smiles - our new normal "Rue the day!" pose.
Of course, just as happened the day before, the weather started out absolutely beautiful, with lots of sun and a few clouds to give the sky some detail and depth (great for photography). The guides had a hell of a time trying to get my enormous (read: not dainty) feet and my LL Bean slip-on finest shod in some cramp-ons (yeah, I didn´t plan that one all that well) and then we were off, climbing a glacier. Let me repeat that, so it really sinks in, folks. CLIMBING. A. GLACIER. Yeah, you heard me...
Petra and I are laughing, singing, cracking jokes, and even dancing as we scale this glacier - which, might I add, entertained our guides to no end, prompting one of them to ask on a particularly vertical ascent, "Se corte el baile?" the Spanish equivalent of, "What, no more dancing???" - when, of course, the sun disappears behind an enormous cloud, the wind picks up and it starts snowing. Did I mention how awesome this trip is?!! It´s snowing, I´m singing, and I´m on a glacier. Sweet.
Side note: Martha, Michelle, you know I´m totally remembering our hike up Mount Si as I´m trekking all over Perito Moreno Glacier, especially the parts where we were belting out show tunes and 70´s classics as we forced ourselves to keep moving up those switchbacks. Oh, how I love you guys! End note.
As the last part of the trek, the guides led us to this natural bowl in the glacier, where they set up some tables to serve the tour group some Scotch and alfajors (cookies filled with caramel, or dulce de leche). Although I don´t drink Scotch, I did enjoy the gesture.
To end our day, Petra and I had made reservations at La Tablita, El Calafate´s premier restaurant, famed for it´s Patagonian lamb. When it comes to meat in Argentina, these people really don´t understand portion control. We ordered the mixed grill for two - which included lamb, rumpsteak, and lomo (forgive me, I don´t even know my cuts of meat in English!) - and it was as if they had slaughtered three whole animals for us, and only us. Too much meat. Seriously. We also ordered their Provencal french fries, which, did not last more than 3 minutes, tops. This Patagonia weather and all the hiking, it really makes a woman ravenous (moreso than her usual self). Then came the Swiss chard, sauteed in garlic and olive oil, which I consumed by myself, happier than a clam, doing the happy food dance the whole time. Guys, I don´t know if you know this about me, but I really like to eat. And eat is what we did...it was GLORIOUS.
I don´t know if it´s all the physical activity, or if it´s the combination of being exposed to the elements all day (trust me, you should see how red my face has become due to the wind burn) and hiking my tush off, but food always tastes better after I´ve been wandering around all day in the Patagonian wildnerness. The smells, the textures, the flavors, they are all that much more potent and inviting.
So of course we ordered dessert - Petra, the calafate ice cream and me the homemade flan. Then Petra treated me to dinner, that sly woman! (Petra darling, thank you, thank you, thank you - it was a birthday I will never forget...)
And we even had them wrap up our leftover lamb and beef, and fed all the loose dogs on the way back to the hotel. It was a nice way to round out our day, surrounded by our amorous puppy dogs, laughing, and breathing in the cool, refreshing Patagonia air. I simply love it here.
Yet I must admit that I did miss all the phone calls from friends and da´ Momma, to help me celebrate my birthday by singing into my ear and reminding me why I love you all. So while I was thinking of all of you and wishing you could be here to celebrate with me, I want you to know that my birthday still rocked my world. Thirty-one is going to be good, I can feel it.
Then Friday was my actual birthday. Up at 6-ish, trying to wait patiently for my alarm to go off at 6:45 - it´s amazing how little your body is able to relax after such a tightly managed schedule for so long - and then it was off to hike on a glacier! It is really hard to describe how awesome an adventure that was. You take a bus to a boat, and you are standing in full view of one of only two glaciers in the world that are not receding (they´re stable, not advancing): Perito Moreno. The guides told us that it is one of the lowest glaciers in the world as well, located only about 180 meters above sea level, with the average glacier being located around 2,000 meters above sea level. So you can actually enjoy this glacier without freezing your tush off!!!
Well, Petra and I are kind of a force to behold, each one of us feeding off of the energy and laughter of the other, so by the time we were getting off the boat to start our glacier trek, we had concluded that the guides were going to rue the day that they got us as part of their tour. It quickly became our motto of the day: "Rue the day!" we´d shout and then flash two thumbs up. It sounds silly now, but it had us laughing through the whole day. When I finally get back to my own computer in Buenos Aires and have the capacity to upload photos (and don´t have to struggle with this Spanish keyboard), you will note how many of our pictures of us sporting our thumbs up and flashing big goofy smiles - our new normal "Rue the day!" pose.
Of course, just as happened the day before, the weather started out absolutely beautiful, with lots of sun and a few clouds to give the sky some detail and depth (great for photography). The guides had a hell of a time trying to get my enormous (read: not dainty) feet and my LL Bean slip-on finest shod in some cramp-ons (yeah, I didn´t plan that one all that well) and then we were off, climbing a glacier. Let me repeat that, so it really sinks in, folks. CLIMBING. A. GLACIER. Yeah, you heard me...
Petra and I are laughing, singing, cracking jokes, and even dancing as we scale this glacier - which, might I add, entertained our guides to no end, prompting one of them to ask on a particularly vertical ascent, "Se corte el baile?" the Spanish equivalent of, "What, no more dancing???" - when, of course, the sun disappears behind an enormous cloud, the wind picks up and it starts snowing. Did I mention how awesome this trip is?!! It´s snowing, I´m singing, and I´m on a glacier. Sweet.
Side note: Martha, Michelle, you know I´m totally remembering our hike up Mount Si as I´m trekking all over Perito Moreno Glacier, especially the parts where we were belting out show tunes and 70´s classics as we forced ourselves to keep moving up those switchbacks. Oh, how I love you guys! End note.
As the last part of the trek, the guides led us to this natural bowl in the glacier, where they set up some tables to serve the tour group some Scotch and alfajors (cookies filled with caramel, or dulce de leche). Although I don´t drink Scotch, I did enjoy the gesture.
To end our day, Petra and I had made reservations at La Tablita, El Calafate´s premier restaurant, famed for it´s Patagonian lamb. When it comes to meat in Argentina, these people really don´t understand portion control. We ordered the mixed grill for two - which included lamb, rumpsteak, and lomo (forgive me, I don´t even know my cuts of meat in English!) - and it was as if they had slaughtered three whole animals for us, and only us. Too much meat. Seriously. We also ordered their Provencal french fries, which, did not last more than 3 minutes, tops. This Patagonia weather and all the hiking, it really makes a woman ravenous (moreso than her usual self). Then came the Swiss chard, sauteed in garlic and olive oil, which I consumed by myself, happier than a clam, doing the happy food dance the whole time. Guys, I don´t know if you know this about me, but I really like to eat. And eat is what we did...it was GLORIOUS.
I don´t know if it´s all the physical activity, or if it´s the combination of being exposed to the elements all day (trust me, you should see how red my face has become due to the wind burn) and hiking my tush off, but food always tastes better after I´ve been wandering around all day in the Patagonian wildnerness. The smells, the textures, the flavors, they are all that much more potent and inviting.
So of course we ordered dessert - Petra, the calafate ice cream and me the homemade flan. Then Petra treated me to dinner, that sly woman! (Petra darling, thank you, thank you, thank you - it was a birthday I will never forget...)
And we even had them wrap up our leftover lamb and beef, and fed all the loose dogs on the way back to the hotel. It was a nice way to round out our day, surrounded by our amorous puppy dogs, laughing, and breathing in the cool, refreshing Patagonia air. I simply love it here.
Yet I must admit that I did miss all the phone calls from friends and da´ Momma, to help me celebrate my birthday by singing into my ear and reminding me why I love you all. So while I was thinking of all of you and wishing you could be here to celebrate with me, I want you to know that my birthday still rocked my world. Thirty-one is going to be good, I can feel it.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
El Chalten
For my 31st birthday, I decided to treat myself to a vacation, one which I had thought about for years as some nebulous life-list sort of thing, but for which I now live close enough to turn into a reality. I am currently enjoying the hell out of the first full day of my Patagonia vacation and yes, it is ALL THAT and a bag of chips!
First things first: I have another "only in Argentina" story for you.
Petra and I arrived in El Calafate last night. We had just found out some incredibly good news about her next job assignment (she got her number one choice and was accepted into one of the war colleges for their masters program on Campaigning - as in, how to wage war and kick people´s behinds!) so we decided we were going to go out for dinner and celebrate.
We landed in one of the restaurants along Libertador, the main street in town. Whilst munching through dinner and sipping our Malbec, the conversation turned to our taste in men and we were commenting on how different our choices of mates/lovers are from the physical speciman that we generally find attractive. (Please feel free to imagine just how loudly and vulgarly we might have been discussing this - after all, we love to live up to the Obnoxious American stereotype.)
The talk moves to other, more refined topics - I swear! - and, in mid-conversation, this lovely blond woman, who had been sitting at the table to the side of us walks up, and...
Lovely blond: "Excuse me, I don´t mean to put my nose in your conversation (note that she is not a native English speaker, which I find AWESOME), but I couldn´t hellp but eavesdrop and I just had to tell you something."
Petra and I: (exchanging mildly terrified looks with clearly false smiles pasted on our faces, wondering exactly which completely inappropriate conversation she´s about to inject her opinion on...)
Lovely blond: "When looking for a man, you need to go with tall, blue-eyed and Dutch. Can´t be beat."
Petra and I: (Looking over at her tall, blue-eyed and apparently Dutch male companion) "Dude, I think she likes you!" (insane, slightly relieved laughter inserted here - oh, don´t you wish you were a fly on the wall so you could know what else we were talking about! Sorry folks, hate to disappoint, but that´s between me, Petra and the two Dutch people...)
Ah, Argentina...how I love thee, let me count the ways...
So today was our first full day in El Calafate, er, mejor, in Patagonia. We actually caught a bus and drove out to El Chalten, about 3 hours away so we could hike and see the glory that is Fitz Roy (3,400 meters), one of the tallest, if not the tallest, peaks in the Patagonia region. I can´t even begin to tell you how amazing it was. I just absolutely LOVE being here. I have spent the last year or so completely stressing myself out, moving four times between four different countries, pushing myself to excel at my job, forcing myself to be more social to help me cope with ending my 5 1/2 year relationship with Anthony, and just generally draining my energy reserves...that it feels really fantastic to get away from it all, to be out in the wild, windy, isolated awesomeness that is Patagonia.
While I wouldn´t take away a single experience of the past year, I am finally able to breathe. In an out, in and out...the sound of the wind rushing past my ears as I stand on a hiking path, or the moments of silence that follow when the wind abruptly stops - such a balm for my soul. I love, love LOVE IT.
Petra and I have now seen a small part of El Chalten, the tiny little pueblo of approximately 700 inhabitants - the only town allowed to crop up in the middle of the Glacier Reserve, to cater to the tourism industry. El Chalten is only 25 years old and still far from being connected to today´s world - their one ATM isn´t quite a year old, no cell phone gets a signal there, and many of the buildings are still constructed out of tin or whatever other scraps they could somehow get delivered to this isolated corner of Argentina. The town is clearly a hiker´s paradise, with most of the people you see clearly not having seen a shower in too long a time (or a haircut either) and all of them decked out in North Face gear and hiking packs. It is a very harsh, rough terrain, good for nothing other than tourism. So hotels, restaurants, and panaderias are cropping up all up and down the sometimes paved, and sometimes rocky, roads of this hiking outcrop.
When we arrived, we had a half hour before we were to join our guide, so Petra and I decided to walk around a bit. It started raining a bit, then a little bit harder so, to save our cameras, we ducked into the next shop that looked interesting: La Waffleria. Although we didn´t have time for their waffles, we did have time for mint and cinnamon hot cocoa. I have never tasted a hot chocolate so viscous in my life, at such a perfect "hot but not too hot" temperature. The thickness, the flavor, the warmth...just spread through me. LOVE.
When we left, we spotted our purple van just outside - our driver had been driving around town, desperately searching for us, thinking we had got lost (as if we could! All of El Chalten can fit in two city blocks). He even admitted to thinking we might have been eaten by a puma. A puma!!!
Side note: I don´t know what our driver´s real name was, but our tour guide said it was, "Harry...as in Harry Potter! Doesn´t he look like Harry Potter???" So, for the rest of the day, he was our Harry Potter. End side note.
So we met up with our hike guide and the two Argentines of clearly German descent who would be joining us for our hike. The shortest possible way to tell this story is as follows: We climbed up and up and up. It was raining very little, with a bright sun. We took pictures and climbed up some more. Somewhere along the way it started getting windier, the sky grew gray, it rained harder. We didn´t get a clear view of Fitz Roy because of the cloud cover, but we saw beautiful trees, hardy flowers, lots of crazy plants, a glacier, and a lake. At the lake, we stopped to eat lunch. And that is when it STARTED HAILING. It was freakin´unbelievable. I could barely feel my hands to unpack my lunch, and I´m getting pelted with hail, and I´m drinking this all in, thinking, "I couldn´t be happier to be here."
We looped back and hit the trail we started on and descended. I was the last in our group for nearly the whole hike, since I was stopping to admire some part of the nature we were passing, taking pictures, or just pausing on the trail to stand there, with my eyes closed, breathing in the clean, brisk air. There was even a moment on the descent, when I halted on the trail because I could hear the wind in the trees behind me. I looked back and the trees in the distance were tossing about violently, in the throes of a particularly strong wind. I knew it was coming our way. And it hit with startling ferocity, forcing me to take a few steps forward to steady myself on the trail and a huge laugh erupted out me, entirely unbidden, that felt like it came from my toes. It was such a strange, delightful moment for me.
After the hike, our whole group - Petra, myself, our tour guide, Harry Potter, our hike guide, and the two Germans - went into town for ice cream. We sat on colored cubes, and ate enough calafate ice cream to turn our tongues purple. (Calafate is the name of a berry here, which looks remarkably like a blueberry and tastes like a cross between a blueberry and a boysenberry.) Then we loaded up the purple van again and turned our eyes South, back to El Calafate.
I can´t even begin to describe how happy I am to be here in this place, right now, in this particular space of time. I wish you were here.
First things first: I have another "only in Argentina" story for you.
Petra and I arrived in El Calafate last night. We had just found out some incredibly good news about her next job assignment (she got her number one choice and was accepted into one of the war colleges for their masters program on Campaigning - as in, how to wage war and kick people´s behinds!) so we decided we were going to go out for dinner and celebrate.
We landed in one of the restaurants along Libertador, the main street in town. Whilst munching through dinner and sipping our Malbec, the conversation turned to our taste in men and we were commenting on how different our choices of mates/lovers are from the physical speciman that we generally find attractive. (Please feel free to imagine just how loudly and vulgarly we might have been discussing this - after all, we love to live up to the Obnoxious American stereotype.)
The talk moves to other, more refined topics - I swear! - and, in mid-conversation, this lovely blond woman, who had been sitting at the table to the side of us walks up, and...
Lovely blond: "Excuse me, I don´t mean to put my nose in your conversation (note that she is not a native English speaker, which I find AWESOME), but I couldn´t hellp but eavesdrop and I just had to tell you something."
Petra and I: (exchanging mildly terrified looks with clearly false smiles pasted on our faces, wondering exactly which completely inappropriate conversation she´s about to inject her opinion on...)
Lovely blond: "When looking for a man, you need to go with tall, blue-eyed and Dutch. Can´t be beat."
Petra and I: (Looking over at her tall, blue-eyed and apparently Dutch male companion) "Dude, I think she likes you!" (insane, slightly relieved laughter inserted here - oh, don´t you wish you were a fly on the wall so you could know what else we were talking about! Sorry folks, hate to disappoint, but that´s between me, Petra and the two Dutch people...)
Ah, Argentina...how I love thee, let me count the ways...
So today was our first full day in El Calafate, er, mejor, in Patagonia. We actually caught a bus and drove out to El Chalten, about 3 hours away so we could hike and see the glory that is Fitz Roy (3,400 meters), one of the tallest, if not the tallest, peaks in the Patagonia region. I can´t even begin to tell you how amazing it was. I just absolutely LOVE being here. I have spent the last year or so completely stressing myself out, moving four times between four different countries, pushing myself to excel at my job, forcing myself to be more social to help me cope with ending my 5 1/2 year relationship with Anthony, and just generally draining my energy reserves...that it feels really fantastic to get away from it all, to be out in the wild, windy, isolated awesomeness that is Patagonia.
While I wouldn´t take away a single experience of the past year, I am finally able to breathe. In an out, in and out...the sound of the wind rushing past my ears as I stand on a hiking path, or the moments of silence that follow when the wind abruptly stops - such a balm for my soul. I love, love LOVE IT.
Petra and I have now seen a small part of El Chalten, the tiny little pueblo of approximately 700 inhabitants - the only town allowed to crop up in the middle of the Glacier Reserve, to cater to the tourism industry. El Chalten is only 25 years old and still far from being connected to today´s world - their one ATM isn´t quite a year old, no cell phone gets a signal there, and many of the buildings are still constructed out of tin or whatever other scraps they could somehow get delivered to this isolated corner of Argentina. The town is clearly a hiker´s paradise, with most of the people you see clearly not having seen a shower in too long a time (or a haircut either) and all of them decked out in North Face gear and hiking packs. It is a very harsh, rough terrain, good for nothing other than tourism. So hotels, restaurants, and panaderias are cropping up all up and down the sometimes paved, and sometimes rocky, roads of this hiking outcrop.
When we arrived, we had a half hour before we were to join our guide, so Petra and I decided to walk around a bit. It started raining a bit, then a little bit harder so, to save our cameras, we ducked into the next shop that looked interesting: La Waffleria. Although we didn´t have time for their waffles, we did have time for mint and cinnamon hot cocoa. I have never tasted a hot chocolate so viscous in my life, at such a perfect "hot but not too hot" temperature. The thickness, the flavor, the warmth...just spread through me. LOVE.
When we left, we spotted our purple van just outside - our driver had been driving around town, desperately searching for us, thinking we had got lost (as if we could! All of El Chalten can fit in two city blocks). He even admitted to thinking we might have been eaten by a puma. A puma!!!
Side note: I don´t know what our driver´s real name was, but our tour guide said it was, "Harry...as in Harry Potter! Doesn´t he look like Harry Potter???" So, for the rest of the day, he was our Harry Potter. End side note.
So we met up with our hike guide and the two Argentines of clearly German descent who would be joining us for our hike. The shortest possible way to tell this story is as follows: We climbed up and up and up. It was raining very little, with a bright sun. We took pictures and climbed up some more. Somewhere along the way it started getting windier, the sky grew gray, it rained harder. We didn´t get a clear view of Fitz Roy because of the cloud cover, but we saw beautiful trees, hardy flowers, lots of crazy plants, a glacier, and a lake. At the lake, we stopped to eat lunch. And that is when it STARTED HAILING. It was freakin´unbelievable. I could barely feel my hands to unpack my lunch, and I´m getting pelted with hail, and I´m drinking this all in, thinking, "I couldn´t be happier to be here."
We looped back and hit the trail we started on and descended. I was the last in our group for nearly the whole hike, since I was stopping to admire some part of the nature we were passing, taking pictures, or just pausing on the trail to stand there, with my eyes closed, breathing in the clean, brisk air. There was even a moment on the descent, when I halted on the trail because I could hear the wind in the trees behind me. I looked back and the trees in the distance were tossing about violently, in the throes of a particularly strong wind. I knew it was coming our way. And it hit with startling ferocity, forcing me to take a few steps forward to steady myself on the trail and a huge laugh erupted out me, entirely unbidden, that felt like it came from my toes. It was such a strange, delightful moment for me.
After the hike, our whole group - Petra, myself, our tour guide, Harry Potter, our hike guide, and the two Germans - went into town for ice cream. We sat on colored cubes, and ate enough calafate ice cream to turn our tongues purple. (Calafate is the name of a berry here, which looks remarkably like a blueberry and tastes like a cross between a blueberry and a boysenberry.) Then we loaded up the purple van again and turned our eyes South, back to El Calafate.
I can´t even begin to describe how happy I am to be here in this place, right now, in this particular space of time. I wish you were here.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Halloween
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| Wednesday Addams as you've never seen her before, the world's dirtiest |
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| Before the madness and the fog machine. |
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| Jason and Pablito |
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| If you ever see this when you're out drinking, RUN, don't walk, in the opposite direction. |
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| Just a few more of the friendly faces you'll find at Embassy Buenos Aires. |
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| Hands down my favorite picture of the evening. It just doesn't get any cuter than this! |
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| Yours truly, with one of the few men not telling her she looked like a giant pink condom at that point in the night. |
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Another weekend, another series of brunches
Yeah, I can't help myself. The Jacob family is under strict instructions to notify me whenever they have the slightest inkling to go to Oui Oui. This was my Saturday:
And then, of course, Sunday was the inaugural Lades Brunch Club brunch, a branching out from my Ladies Lunch Club that used to meet once a month in Lima to try new restaurants and practice our Spanish. This time around I am significantly better at speaking Spanish, but for the first brunch, we had no Argentines so everything was in English - sweet, sweet English.
Of course, we didn't leave the Argentines out on purpose, but I did manage to pick Argentina's Mother's Day for the date of our first brunch, so... we celebrated as only we women can: with lots of laughter, lots of dirty jokes, and lots of food. (pictures to come - my internet is acting persnickety at the moment)
I can't wait until the next time...
And then, of course, Sunday was the inaugural Lades Brunch Club brunch, a branching out from my Ladies Lunch Club that used to meet once a month in Lima to try new restaurants and practice our Spanish. This time around I am significantly better at speaking Spanish, but for the first brunch, we had no Argentines so everything was in English - sweet, sweet English.
Of course, we didn't leave the Argentines out on purpose, but I did manage to pick Argentina's Mother's Day for the date of our first brunch, so... we celebrated as only we women can: with lots of laughter, lots of dirty jokes, and lots of food. (pictures to come - my internet is acting persnickety at the moment)
I can't wait until the next time...
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