a real good excuse

Howdy all,

I was supposed to be back in Buenos Aires to post photos tonight, but I have been stuck in Aguas Calientes, Peru, in a flood zone for the past five days. The good news is that when I return, I should have some great photos of Machu Picchu to post, as well as the helicopters from the Peruvian military being used to airlift us out.

Hope you have been enjoying the blog.

much love,
stephanie

fixing time

The Casio wristwatch I've had since I was about 10 years old quit working the week I got here. I asked a man with an electronics stand in the park if he could take a look at it, and he spent about 15 minutes unscrewing the tiny screws, prying out the battery,
locating a compatible replacement amongst his wares, and testing the charge.



In the end it didn't work at all, and ever since then I have had no watch, no cell phone, no way to tell the time. It turns out that I sleep less without a watch telling me how early it is.

subte climatizado

I don't take the subway here half as much as I did in New York. The lines are all a little different. On A line, the doors open well before the train stops. (Really: don't lean against the doors.)

In the summer, all the windows are open in the cars, allowing the warm, underground breeze to pass through. There are also these giant metal ceiling fans on all the cars and in the stations, but they don't really do anything unless you're standing directly beneath them.



It is hot underground.

Villa 31

I took this last month in Villa 31, this shantytown behind the Retiro train station. I didn't take any photos inside the dense residential area, but these abandoned tracks are kind of the pedestrian highway in and out of the neighborhood. A lot of people live there, and there is a heavy police presence near the dead zone between the train station and the neighborhood interior. That says a lot.



People talk a lot about how the polarity of wealth is so much more visible here than in the states. I'm not sure about that. We have plenty of homeless in the states, as well as ridiculously crappy neighborhoods abutting luxury rentals. Or maybe I've just spent too much time in San Francisco.

lunes typica

The nights in Buenos Aires go on forever, even Monday nights. Maybe especially Monday nights, because you just don't expect anything to really happen on a Monday night.



Ernesto called Plaza Serrano "the heart of Palermo." It is not even a plaza, not really, but a clustering of open-air bars around a triangular playground. Some of the bars don't close. Or, some will close for an hour between 6 and 7 a.m., during which time they won't serve you, but you can still chill.

Palermo is full of tourists and expats. This is Piero, an Italian currently living in Barcelona and visiting Argentina. I managed to hang with him well past sunrise without a single word of English passing between us.

rail love

I am hopefully going to take a 10-hour train ride this week. I love trains!



This photo is from March when I was near the western border of Bolivia. I honestly don't know what town I was in. My Spanish was terrible was overwhelmed and I pretty much only tuned in to understand when someone pointed at me or hollered 'Chinita!' I got that it was a former military base and we would only be stopping long enough for me to take this photo.

hide and seek

In my host's subdivision, there were always people out, and it felt good. True, the subdivision was locked behind a gate, but it seems that everything here is locked up somehow and people just get used to it. In many retail stores and apartment buildings, you have to bet let in and out personally with a key.

These kids were having a lot of fun. When they were playing hide and seek, occasionally they would duck into the apartment of two older people who were just sitting outside their front door drinking mate.



In the evenings the older kids would come out. We spent Christmas night outside passing beers with the 20-somethings of the neighborhood.

not just a deadly weapon

I am doing automated publishing this week while I'm away, so I hope you enjoy these older photos this week. This one of Plaza de Mayo, was taken the first week I was here, when I was living downtown. There's always stuff going on in the plaza. The protests seem to be permanently installed there, along with the pigeons and tourists.



Why yes! I did bring my tripod down here. It was a hassle, and I think I am actually seeking out situations to use it--and not just as a deadly weapon.

playa repetto

It was 34 degrees C (93 degrees F) all weekend. Sunday we caught the last rays of sun on the terrace, drinking Quilmes and eating leftover tiramisu.


The other night we heard the train blaring and it sounded like a boat, and sometimes the wind rustling through the trees can sound like the ocean--so we've taken to calling the deck Playa Repetto--Repetto is the name of our street here in Villa Crespo.

And 'playa' (beach) is pronounced "pla-sha" here in Buenos Aires, of course.

couchsurfing in montevideo

Starting on December 25, Suzanna and I couchsurfed (and cot-surfed) for a few nights with the "ambassador" to Montevideo of couchsurfing.org.



Our host was incredibly chill and open, as the best couchsurfing hosts are. To be welcomed into a stranger's home on Christmas seemed so natural and unobtrusive. I loved the Uruguayos.

el tableado de ajedrez casero

My roommate and I made a chess set yesterday out of an old drawing board and a cardboard shoebox.



Unfortunately I used an oil-based paint for the orange pieces, so it will be another day or two before we can play.

nice night for an asado

Last night my roommates prepared an asado, which we enjoyed on the terrace in perfect weather. After the meat, we tucked into a homemade tiramisu, then undertook our usual activity of trying to locate Orion and the Southern Cross.

La Bomba de Tiempo

Monday nights there is a big party at Konex, this factory-turned-art-space in barrio Once. It is an early party. At 8 pm, this big percussion group of about 15 people descend from the top of the orange metal stairs in the center of the courtyard. This is La Bomba de Tiempo.

People love them in Buenos Aires. The group wears all red with their first names printed on the front of their shirts and their last names (apellidos) printed on the back. The place was so packed that when the wind blew, you just felt the body heat of a thousand other people. Everyone is dancing and the energy is great--attentive and friendly. At one point, the entire crowd showed respect to the group by silencing themselves and crouching or sitting to make way for an explosion of energy.

And at 10 pm promptly, the party was over, until next week.

buenos aires

I forgot about this blog. I'm happy to have found it again. 

I talked to this guy today for a story I'm writing for INKED magazine. His name is Ernesto Vasquez and he runs a tattoo studio in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires called "Historia de Mi Vida" (that's 'Story of My Life' to you gringos out there). 

I am in awe of people who really live their life's work.