Pretending to be Portenos

I can’t believe that only two weeks ago I was in Thailand, my legs chock full of mosquito bites and my backpack filled with sand. It’s all starting to catch up to me and the yawns are ruling my world. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, crazier than I can ever remember in my life. We went from tranquil Ko Yao Noi to Bangkok, then to Oakland and then to Las Vegas. I am currently residing in the Palermo barrio of Buenos Aires. This neighborhood is considered chic, hip, trendy, retro, cool – it is THE hotspot in the city. They call it Palermo Soho because it feels like New York.


Hot tubbing in Las Vegas with the family before heading to Argentina.

Our flight down to South America was uneventful. It was your typical 11-hour overnight ordeal filled with reclining seats in your face and nasty meals. The one shining moment came when Continental showed the movie Little Miss Sunshine. With the Oscar nominations just announced, I was excited to finally get to see this little movie that made a big noise when it was released. I thoroughly enjoyed the show and was impressed with the filmakers ability to seamlessly combine humor and sadness. Every character was realizing lost dreams simultaneously and despite all that, the movie was not depressing, but rather uplifting.

OK, enough of that. When we arrived in BA, we were greeted with a short immigration line and quick baggage retrieval. I always worry that I am going to lose my bag despite it never happening to me. Imagine wearing the same clothes day after day, waiting for your bag to find you? (Come to think of it, I am wearing pretty much the same clothes every day on this trip, so I guess life wouldn’t be so bad with lost luggage.)

Instantly upon arrival, Andy was treated as a porteno (local). Her dark skin and thick hair gave locals the impression that she was one of them. Go figure. She has been mistaken for a local in every country we have visited, except for Holland. (That’s right, the Thai people thought she was Thai – don’t ask me how they came up with that one.) People were asking her question after question in Spanish and her reply always consisted of blank stares, a smile and her catch phrase, “Lo siento, no habla espanol.”

We were met by our taxi driver Oscar at the aiport and escorted to our hostel in Palermo. He was a nice, older man with intensly white hair. He was wearing a clean button-down shirt tucked neatly into his tight jeans. He spoke some English and I spoke some Spanish. I would talk to him in his native tongue and he would reply to me in mine. It was kind of neat to know that he understood what I was trying to say. Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature” was playing on the radio and despite being delirious from the red-eye flight, Andy and I managed to remember the words and sing together in the back seat. We also found out from Oscar that Credence Clearwater Revival is huge in BA. Go figure.

We got to our hostel, walked the steps to our room and crashed. Hard. We slept for five hours and woke confused and hungry. We stumbled to the shared bathroom, showered in hopes of clearing the cobwebs, and embarked on a walk through our new neighborhood. We had our eye on a steak dinner to celebrate our arrival in another continent. I had held out on eating red meat for five months, knowing that we were going to Argentina, the flesh-eating capital of the world. We walked and walked and walked, passing one cool café after another. The streets were lined with fancy clothing stores, ice cream parlors, and authentic pizza joints. We had read about a restaurant that one could call “a Buenos Aires institution.” All the waiters were wearing tuxedos and were old enough to be my grandfather. We arrived at 8:30 at night and we were the first people there. We thought we were headed to a popular spot, but the lack of customers made us nervous. Then as if the bell rang telling all locals it was time for dinner, people started showing up. It was 9 p.m. and the place began to fill. Families with young kids and infants poured in, ready to start their meal. I guess it doesn’t matter what schedule you put the kids on as long as it’s the same, day after day, year after year. Places would be closing in Oakland at this time of night. Talk about a different culture.


Andy was happier about the cheap wine than she was about the ribeye. Try going three months in Southeast Asia with bad, expensive wine.

We got a caprese salad that was killer and shared a huge ribeye steak and mashed potatoes. We also splurged and ordered a bottle of Argentine Malbec wine. The meat was yummy and fresh and the portion was perfect for two people. We chowed down something fierce and I think I smiled all the way through the meal. This was a fancy place and we were worried that it was going to cost a lot. Our fears were greeted with a bill under $30, including tax, tip AND the bottle of tasty wine. We thought we had left affordable dinners in Thailand but alas, it seems to have followed us to Argentina. Thank god, because I was getting used to the bargain deals.


I didn't even know I had dimples until I saw this picture. Can you tell that I'm happy?

We walked home a little drunk and with full bellies all the while trying to avoid dog shit that seems to dot every corner of the city. We got back to our room and passed out, again. We both slept like a raver kid on Tuesday night and woke up remembering snipets of our weird dreams. We realized when we woke that we forgot to hang our dreamcatcher up.

Our first full day in BA was spent finding cheap airfare to the Patagonia region of Argentina. The southern district is famous for its icebergs and beautiful, natural landscapes. It is peak season down there now, with temperatures hovering around 50 degrees. Tierra del Fuego, the tip of South America is a few John Daly drives away from Antarctica, so, needless to say, it’s normally friggin cold down there. We got our tickets for a reasonable price and then the rains came. We found a pizza place to eat lunch and watched as locals got drenched in the relentless afternoon rains.

I don’t know how, but like a switch turned from on to off, the rains stopped. We walked back to the center of Palermo to find a café where we could sip on café con leche and surf the Internet for rooms in El Calafate, the town we are heading to in Patagonia. As if someone, somewhere was reading our minds, we found the perfect spot with Wifi, awesome coffee and air conditioning.


Can we get a translator please? We saw this walking around in the rain. It's amazing how many grafitti signs we've seen during our travels condemning Bush's actions. It's about time we get a woman in the oval office. Our country could use some sensibility. Hillary in '08!!

As I sit in here, four hours later, I marvel at the incredible spot we found. The people watching is top notch and the Internet connection is faster than lightning. To my left, a couple is kissing over their Mate. Off to my right, a young girl sits with her mother and her mother’s mother. I love watching generations connect. A good-looking family of four sits in front of me playing a board game and sipping hot chocolate, while three men sit next to them, laptops out, pondering something business oriented.

Andy went window shopping for an hour, while I write and wait here for her return. We don’t have a plan for tonight just yet, but our options are plentiful. Life for us over the past four weeks has been super social and filled with activities. We’ve partied with old friends and made new ones along the way. We reconnected with home, visited parents and enjoyed the break from the road. But as I sit here now, in this ultra-suave bar, I am reminded that I have no plans, nothing on my to-do list, and nowhere to be. It is the greatest feeling in the world.