Cat in the lap

I went to Barrio Chino recently for Chinese food and the ever-elusive bubble tea. At first there was a lot of confusion between Ian's orange chicken and Pedro's glazed crispy pork, but we sorted it out eventually. With the waiter's help. After dinner Rose and I scoured the two-block-long China "Town," searching for bubble tea. Like expert detectives, we asked all the shop owners: "We're looking for this tea, it's sweet and milky with little balls, and you need a really big straw to drink it." Most of them had no idea what we were talking about ("mate?"), which was dismaying, but a few seemed to recognize the description and said it was old in the grocery store. But the grocery had already closed. Tragic.

Yesterday afternoon was absolutely beautiful. I meant to go to lab and stare in a microscope for a few hours, but I forgot to email Cecilia and let her know I was coming, and she thought this was the week I couldn't make it due to my dad's visit (next week, yay!). Since the seeds have to be put into solution the night before, there was nothing for me to do. Which could have been a downer considering I'd just ridden a 45-minute bus to the campus, but it was an extremely happy mistake. I went to somewhat chaotic, gorgeous garden and immediately was befriended by a calico cat who was very sweet. I'm sure it was the cat from the poem I'd written the night before for my creative writing class, so I knew that her name was Manchita. I happened to have a book of poetry by Juan Gelman that I'd bought the other day after reading some of his poems in that class, so I sat for a long time reading pretty poetry and petting Manchita. I took breaks every now and then to watch the kingfisher, the hummingbird, or the pretty blue bird whose name I don't know. It was my first time reading a book of poetry cover to cover, and what an unforgettable first time!

Last night I ate at Carlito's. I'm in love with Carlito. The menu has 700 items, most of them panqueques (crepes), only a third of which are sweet. I got one with tuna and onions (a potent combo!), and Pedro got avocado and artichoke hearts and we shared. Soooooo yummy! For dessert no one else was going to order dulce de leche so I went for it, for the truly Argentine experience: dulce de leche, cream, and rasberries. Oh. My. God. I couldn't take it, it was too rich. I definitely should have shared it. After about half I had to give up and eat the panqueque without the topping. Carlito, I'm coming back soon, my love.

Yesterday the señora was asking me very insistenly about when we leave. I don't know yet though because it depends on exam dates and what exactly we're doing afterward. I know the program end date is June 27, but is that including a day or two to pack and leave? I have no clue. Doesn't she have a contract? "Are you leaving before the 27th? Or on the 27th? Oh, because we'll miss you," she quickly added. Riiiiight.

I was telling Rose about this in a break in Spanish class, and another student was listening. "Why do you think she won't miss you?" she asked. Because she doesn't like us that much, we explained.

"Oh man, if you think you have it bad, you should read on of the essays posted on the board outside...That poor girl."

"Wait a sec," I said, "was it about how she felt unwelcome at home and then she went and spent a weekend with another family out of town and really enjoyed it?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Oh yeah, that's mine." Oh my, it was quite hilarious. I might be missing out on the typical host family experience, but I sure am getting lots of great stories from our crazy host mom. I don't think I've told enough of them here. Someday I'll devote a post just to her.

Thank your socks

You never realize how wonderful socks are until it's cold and rainy and all your socks are at the laundromat except for one pair that you already wore last night to go to the gym.

More glacier and iceberg pictures, as promised. I got sick of all the sky and lake in the background, so I cheated and cropped them panoramic-style. Did you know there is no standard panoramic size?



Class really frustrated me yesterday. Sometimes my teacher cares too much about the rules and the textbook, but that's a daily and minor complaint. Yesterday, however, I was the victim of a grave injustice.



When we were reviewing for our test, we learned that indicative tense is for certainties like "It is true that...(insert indicative statement here)" and "I believe that..." while subjunctive tense is for doubts, like "I doubt that..." and "It is not true that..." (in case you're totally confused, it's because we don't have subjunctive in English.)

Then the prof said that "It's false that..." is a trigger for indicative because it doesn't contain "no," which makes no sense to me and I told him so, but he assured me it was true so I wrote it in my notes with a star and a circle. The next day on the test, that exact phrase appeared and, remembering the star, I used indicative.



And he marked it wrong, as well he should have, because it was wrong. But he told me during the review to put the wrong answer. So I talked to him about it and he admitted he was at fault for saying the wrong thing during the review. "Te pido disculpas," he said, "I ask for your forgiveness." "Te pido puntos," I said, "I ask you for points."



But he wouldn't change it because then he'd have to change everyone's. Well, yeah! He should! "It's not really about the points," I told him, "it's about justice." But to no avail.



But then I went to lab, and the three hours of lab grunt work were very therapeutic, just like Rose suggested they would be. And then I went to the gym, so I was happy from endorphins, and then after dinner I had ice cream, so I was even happier. Especially because the ice cream scooper was bored and studded the little cone-shaped pieces of merengue all over the scoop like devil's horns.



We made such an amazing, easy dinner on Sunday: mushrooms, spinach, and chicken sauteed together in olive oil, and bruschetta. Try it. Now. Hmmm, now that I think about it I've been making lots of simple yummy meals lately: butternut squash soup with mushrooms on toast; sauteed swet red peppers and onions on crackers with goat cheese and fruit. Staying in hostels is good for scratching the itch I have to cook.



The plane ride home from Calafate last Saturday was surprisingly entertaining! Whenever the announcer came on there was a silly technical problem that could have actually been someone standing next to him saying "ooooooooooooo" like a ghost. Once, the announcer hiccuped in the middle of a sentence, and twice he sighed heavily. If I were a stewardess I would totally do stuff like that to entertain the passengers.

Hyena tourists

I have so many pictures of glaciers and icebergs to sort through from yesterday, so I’m starting with the easier ones that include people.

We did the All Glacier Tour yesterday and saw a million icebergs, Spegazzini, and Perito Moreno again. We should have seen Upsala, the biggest glacier touching the lake, with a surface area four times that of Buenos Aires (!), but the channel was blocked by icebergs so that’s why we saw Perito Moreno again. Which I found out is as big as Buenos Aires. My goodness.



They were all incredible, and when there was no blue ice in sight I looked at incredible mountains with tons of small waterfalls feeding the lake. And roaming the mountains, believe it or not, was a bunch of wild cattle. I didn’t realize cows could live without people taking care of them, especially down here in the cold, and especially on the harsh mountain terrain! Apparently they were abandoned by settlers.



We also saw some wild Andean condors, with a wingspan of 3 meters. I think that’s probably the big bird that I saw on the way out of Bariloche that I mentioned in the last post.

I was expecting Perito Moreno to be really boring, since I looked at it for about three or four hours straight yesterday, but actually today there was some really cool new dark blue ice in front of it. I think the guide said it came from deep down. The coolest thing of all was when we were leaving and we saw the glacier calve a big chunk! (I hope I’m using that verb correctly.) I felt so lucky to have witnessed that. I didn’t get any pictures; we were already far away and it happened so fast.



I made friends with a really cute little girl sitting in front of me. At first I was playing games with her like making faces and popping out from behind the seat, but after a few minutes she got relaxed enough to start chattering a little and I realized she was probably too old for those sorts of games. I don’t really know. She mostly just said words and some very simple sentences. The really great part was when she kept saying, “El señor! El señor!” over and over, looking behind me, and eventually I turned around and realized that she was talking about this old guy who was sort of pressed up against the glass about eight feet away and looking into the cabin. He may or may not have actually been looking at her; I didn’t look closely. But whatever he was doing, he stayed like that for a couple more minutes, long enough for her to start saying, “Miedo! Miedo! El señor! Miedo!” which means “scared.” At first I think she really was scared but her parents and I told her not to be and then she started joking about it.



That reminds me of another funny thing involving windows. In the bathroom there was one stall that had a really big window, but it was reflective to people from the outside. Still, when there were people outside literally aiming a camera straight at the window for a couple pictures, I just couldn’t bring myself to use that stall even when the other one was occupied. I guess it would make a cool picture for them, since they saw it as a mirror, but it was just way too weird!



The tour should have included some hiking around Upsala, but we didn’t end up hiking at all. That made the day kind of boring because we were on the boat forever (somehow I thought there would be more exciting moments). Still, it wasn’t bad, just more chill than expected. Well, except for prime photo opportunity moments, at which we were all competing like hyenas after the kill. That boat definitely needed more deck space!


This dramatic picture was totally an accident. I took a self-portrait without realizing the camera was zoomed in so far.



There was also competition for seats, at least in my mind…when we got on, all the rows of two seats near the windows were taken, so we had to sit in the middle section. Then I found an unoccupied row, and we sat there for about ten minutes before a woman showed up and said it was hers. When we moved, I noticed that she took the window seat and her husband took the window seat of the row in front of her. That is totally unfair, right? You can’t use two rows for two people! So I passive-aggressively asked to sit next to the guy, hoping to make them feel awkward enough that they would move to the same row. But they didn’t, and I gave up after a few minutes. Well, I thought it was kind of a boring day, but there was plenty of human drama apparently, ha ha.

Miniature swans

EPIC BUS RIDE.
Tuesday. 12:00. I leave Bariloche and begin the longest bus ride of my life (I hope). There are three passengers, including Rose and I.
12:01. A movie consisting of terrible 80s music videos begins. Rose covers the screen with her jacket.
12:08. I see the biggest eagle I’ve ever seen in my life, the size of a large sitting dog.
12:30. Gorgeous views of lakes and mountains. I really want to go hiking or camping or kayaking, but I just have to enjoy the views from the bus.
12:45. “Love Hurts.” Actually, Nazareth hurts.
14:00. A terrible Adam Sandler movie starts. Rose tries to watch it.
14:04. Rose covers the screen with her jacket.
14:30. There’s a fly buzzing in my window.
15:00. The landscape changes from lush mountains to dry steppes.
15:30. We drive on the left side of the road for long stretches to avoid potholes.
15:32. There is still a fly buzzing in my window.
16:00. I kill the fly and eat it to celebrate. Kidding.
16:40. We stop at a small bus station for our first break. Rose starts walking into the men’s room before I save her.
17:00. Rose starts watching an American movie dubbed in Spanish with English subtitles.
17:48. Rose says she still has no idea what’s going on in the movie.
17:51. Matt Damon sends a text while his phone is in his pocket. Only Matt Damon.
20:05. Rodrigo, one of the drivers, asks if we want to watch a movie. We’re pretty happy that we have the power to choose. We pore over a folder full of pirated movies, all labeled either “action” or “comedy.” We pick Babel, which is labeled “action” even though it is definitely not.
8:30. I wake up just in time to see the pink and yellow dawn over the steppe.
8:45. We stop for a break. There is still no soap in the bathrooms. I haven’t seen soap since Bariloche. Thank God Rose brought hand sanitizer.
9:02. We cross a little river that is gorgeous in the golden morning. I see two white swans with black necks that are incredibly small, maybe eight inches tall, but they don’t look downy like chicks. Maybe we were just really high up and I didn’t realize?? Is there such thing as a miniature swan?
9:42. There are no more cows. I see guanacos, rheas, and sheep.
10:18. Another fly!
11:40. There’s a sign that says Calafate to the right and Río Gallegos to the left. We go left. I get a little nervous.
12:00. We change buses in Río Gallegos, and now we don’t have the cool seats at the front. One of the drivers has the worst case of Tourette’s that I’ve ever seen. I wonder if that affects his ability to drive.
14:15. My iPod dies right before finishing a podcast.
16:38. We arrive in Calafate! And now the adventure begins.
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View from my Calafate hostel window.

I don’t like the Calafate hostel as much as the Bariloche hostel. It’s too big and there’s too much English. Everyone speaks English. Almost everyone is British. Argentina must be a trendy destination for Brits or something, because I’ve hardly met any Americans on this trip but I’ve met lots of Brits. Anyway, as I was saying, it’s a far cry from the last hostel, where we were often the only ones around. But it’s definitely comfortable and they’re helpful in booking tours and stuff.



Today we saw the fantastic Perito Moreno, the most famous glacier. It’s soooo big! I heard it thundering a couple times, but never saw the ice breaking. We saw it both from a boat and from viewing platforms on the shore. It’s possible to walk on it, but it costs way more and tomorrow’s tour is more expensive so we opted for the cheaper option today. Tomorrow we’re going to see a bunch more glaciers from a boat.




It’s super cold all the way down here, not surprisingly. It snowed a lot today, which is why the pictures are so grey. My fingers were frozen stiff, even with gloves. I need to re-wire those things, something’s faulty. I’m very glad I bought a ski coat before we came south.




The oddest thing about the glacier park was that the tourist café had signs EVERYWHERE saying, “You can’t eat your own food in the café or on our balconies.” Which was cruel when it was snowing outside and there was nowhere to sit and my fingers were frozen! We just ate it in there anyway, no one noticed. But I was surprised by the signs—they were on the entrances, on the bathroom mirrors, and on each table. I haven’t seen an establishment be so anal since coming to Argentina!




Later we went to a cute café/bar called Borges that had literary quotes on the walls and drinks named after famous authors. Then we came home and had some more of the calabaza soup that I made yesterday (which tasted ok, but the texture needs some more practice). Soup is so good when it’s so cold!

We are creatures of the wind/wild is the wind

Yesterday evening view from my window.

I didn't do anything very interesting yesterday...I woke up with a sore knee from the hike the day before, and it was rainy, so I decided not to go through with the planned hike that was 2 hours away. Rose had a good time though and said the rain wasn't that bad, and it was mostly a tour bus thing rather than hiking, so I guess I could have gone. But it was a good day, I caught up on some stuff and took a nice walk when it cleared up. I bought some famous Bariloche chocolate, yummm. I finished another round of edits on my research paper, yaaaaay.



Today we wanted to go kayaking, but it's low tourist season so the places are either closed or only offering kayaking on certain days of the week that are not Mondays. And the biking trip sounded rather unpleasant (on roads with cars, lots of uphill), so we went for another hike instead, to a big hill/little mountain called Cerro Otto. It was tough at first because it was really steep, but it was a nice woodsy path and I'm glad we took it instead of the easier road. This trip has taught me that I'm ridiculously out of shape! Anyway, after the first bit it was easier and the views were great. The pictures aren't that great because it was super-cloudy though. It got pretty cold and windy, so we didn't go all the way up to the top.

Here's Rose just enjoying a little medialuna (croissant) snack...


and here's a little more perspective:


She is holding up the sky:


And a bridge to nowhere:


There was a funny incident in the hostel kitchen today...there was something interesting on the stove that looked like someone had been boiling water with mate in it. I asked Sebastian, the cool hostel guy, what it was and he said, "Sopa de marijuana," or something like that, and with confused politeness I said, "Oh," and smiled and nodded, while thinking, "Wait, did he just say marijuana?" I realized that he did say that and I got the joke...I said, "Looks and smells an awful lot like mate!" Finally he gave up on trying to fool us and told us it was mate cocido, cooked mate.

We wrapped the trip up with leftover lentil soup and carrot soup and a loaf of bread. I love cooking soup when it's cold, especially that carrot soup. I was happy that it turned out ok even though I don't have the recipe!

Tomorrow: onward and southward, to Calafate! We leave at noon and arrive at 4:30 the next day. Bumpy bus, here I come!

Title credits: David Bowie

Colors too gorgeous for my camera

Rose and I are in Bariloche, a small gorgeous tourist town on a lake surrounded by mountains. It’s mostly known for skiing, but it’s too early yet. We flew in yesterday. It was more expensive than a 19 hour bus ride, but we’re saving our sitting muscles for the 30 hour ride to come on Tuesday when we go to El Calafate. Our hostel is really adorable. We are the only guests at the moment, which is good because we are not very good at making plans so we need lots of help. It’s off-season here; apparently it normally rains all the time during the fall, though we’ve been lucky so far. Yesterday we didn’t do much after we arrived, besides take a long nap and cook a sub-par dinner. How did I make rice that was both mushy and burnt-tasting? I don’t understand.

I woke up and went downstairs to ask for help reserving something, and as I was walking back upstairs I happened to glance out the window and said, “Oh my God,” mid-sentence, because of this:


I even wrote a little haiku:

golden mountain dawn
dark cypress silhouetted
against silver lake.

Hope those aren’t too boring to read…they are fun to write, like little puzzles (how do I get an idea into the set framework?).




We took an hour-long bus ride around the lake to another little town and then walked half an hour and then took an hour-long boat ride to see Bosque de Arrayanes, a national park with a forest of craaaazy cinnamon-colored trees. I need to fact-check this, but I’ve been told they suck up a lot of water to kill off surrounding plants, and perhaps that also explains why they feel cold to the touch? I’m not sure. Anyway, we took the boat there and then hiked 13 km back through lovely forest.







My legs are tired. I’m out of shape, and I’m going to join a gym as soon as we get back to BA. Seriously. If I don’t write here that I’ve joined a gym next week, I expect angry emails. It’s time to stop pretending that I don’t need to work out, that 40 minutes walking every day is enough. I prefer running outside, but it’s too big of an ordeal to run outside in that city, and I need to stop making excuses.

Lujan catch up

I'm posting from Bariloche, a really cute town on a lake, surrounded by mountains. I haven't taken any pictures yet, but don't worry, I will. That is a threat. We don't have class this week, so we are here and then we will go to Calafate, where the glaciers are.



Last weekend Rose and I went to Luján to visit María Luján (that's a double name like Mary Anne), our señora's niece. I don't want to get into family drama that I don't understand, but suffice it to say we had to tell the señora that we went somewhere else.




It was fun to be surrounded by family for a change, even if it wasn't mine. Although Maruja and Sophie are wonderful, the señora doesn't exactly make us feel welcome with her fakey sweetness and passive-aggressiveness. So I realy enjoyed eating a big lunch while talking about boring things, sweeting pictures of baby's first birthday, and watching said baby's antics. Later María Luján took us to see the town's main attraction, a huge church built around the Virgin of Luján. Legand has it that her statue was being carted somewhere, and the cart stopped going in Luján and wouldn't go again until her statue was taken off. So they built a huge cathedral, and now it's a popular pilgrim destination. Down in the basement (which was called a crypt despite the distinctive lack of dead people) there's a collection of all the different representations of the Virgin all over the world. The most memorable thing was the pint of fake beer sitting in front of the Cuban. I bet the Irish Virgin was jealous.



After dinner we watched Plant Earth, complete with Mom's gasps of horror during the huting scenes and coos during the baby animal scenes, and Dad's jokes and words of pseudo-wisdom. Then the fifteen-year-old son invited Rose and I to go clubbing with him and his friends, but we declined. It would have been a pretty unique cultural experience, but I was too tired. As we drove to drop him off at a friend's place, the dad got lost and yelled at other drivers. My favorite part of all happened as the son was leaving:
"Ok, I'll be back at 6 [AM]."
"No way, 2."
"5:30"
"2"
"5"
"3, or you're never going out again."



It's not that much of this would necessarily happen in my family (for example, the negotiaton would have ended in 11, maybe, when I was 15), but it was such a sterotypical family experience, which was entertaining to see here. I guess in some ways families are the same everywhere!