I dedicate this post to that unexpected night of slumber a few friends and I shared a couple weeks back w/one kickin' group of Peruvians in one unassuming Peruvian joint known as "La Rica Vicky". We found ourselves at this horribly lit, no frills eatery quite randomly one evening as we wandered the streets post-Bomba (Monday night percussion show) in search of sustenance. It was Julie from France's birthday, and so of course, we all brought our festive energy into Vicky's, and immediately passed it along to the two other tables in the restaurant- giving way to one bizarrely beautiful noche. I suppose this was to be expected though, for when you throw a few Californians together with three Frenchies, two Argentinas, and a handful of Peruvians (plus a few rounds of cerveza)...good times are a given.
Newfound friends.
Mathieu buys not one bouquet, but he makes the flower vendor's night and buys all of them for his lovely Julie.
We made quite the scene running from table to table snapping photos of our motley crew.
We then tried to get photos with all of the staff...even managed to get the shy cook to come out!
Mathieu starts popping open the bottles of bubbly...
Coller, Mathieu, & Julieta.
Julie the birthday girl w/beer soaked hair (thanks to the Peruvians who literally poured glasses of brew on her head.)
Please note the bottle of Quilmes that big red mama has between Mathieu's spread-eagled piernas...
The hooting and hollering coming from these ladies was priceless..."Eso!Eso!Eso!Eso!"
After about 5 minutes of the whole restaurant chanting "Torta! Torta!" our waitress brought out this jello whipped cream creation...and without a candle to light, we topped this sucker w/a ciggy and started in on the "feliz cumple"...
There is no shortage of creativity found in the Buenos Aires hairstyle department. It's incredible, the way these Argentinos sport the dos...especially when it comes to the "rastas"- Argentine for "dreadlocks". Whether it's five dreadies shooting straight out the back of a shaved cabeza, or one lone dread running the span of one's back, I find myself intrigued, and yeah, one might say a bit inspired. I don't think I personally could rock the lock, but hey, to those who can...cheers to you!
I do consider myself a positive individual, but there are times on ones journey when things, well, they just suck. The whole being optimistic bit- you just have to fess up, face the facts, and drop it :) ... a good sense of humor being an absolute must. Last week upon our reuniting w/Brit and Erasmo in Mendoza, things just weren't happening for us. I had had high hopes for this last minute escape from the city. We were going to the the highly raved about wine country of Argentina, and clearly, we would be sipping wine at the foot of the Andes...The city of Mendoza? I'm gonna have to go ahead and say it was 'okay'. No sparks, none at all. Some might say a little 'blah'. It did feel good to lounge in the sunshine at the park, and her tree-lined streets and plazas were pleasant, but I'm going to stick with 'ehh' to sum up my thoughts. Most travelers stay in Mendoza and then pack their days full of activity in the surrounding area- rafting, hiking, wining, and the likes. I suppose the first of our comical run-ins with disaster came on our "bikes n' wine tour" in Maipu. With Napa Valley in mind, we were picturing rolling vineyards, a charming country road, perhaps a crisp breeze wafting through...but I am assuming we came in the off season, because no era asi. I found Maipu to be a bit of a dumpy town, not the most attractive of places...and the neverending whistles from the male population was out of control. The majority of our 'wine tour' was set along the towns main drag- semitrucks and beat up roadsters blowing past we pedaling foreigner, creating some serious hot exhaust-debris inhalation. Not your healthiest bike ride. I must say though that the road did become more charming as we got farther and farther from town- as can be seen in the first few photos below. But don't be fooled...one bodega was perched right behind a gas station.
On our return trek, the scorching skies decided to deliver a windstorm of sorts, picking up all of the dust and dirt from Maipu's sunbaked tierra and lofting it about. Have you ever seen the movie Twister? Yeah, like that. Trash filled skies, alarms being sounded, branches falling on the unlucky (Brit being one of them)...oh it was madness. Biking in such conditions wasn't the most pleasant experience, as ones vision was entirely impaired and lungs were filled with the grit of a city whose name sounds like "my poo". We were basically in the dustbowls of Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath.
Back at the hostel in Mendoza, we thought, "We've gotta get out of here..." and after a few hours of indecisiveness, we jumped on the 2:30am bus and headed for the peaks of Las Leñas. And the story goes something like this: After scanty sleep, we arrive at the mountain at 7am. Snow is dumping. Brit and Erasmo are sick. Colleen is in a cotton dress. And I, well I don't love cold weather. Can we say, unprepared? Now, we can't afford to stay at the resort-esque hotels that lie at the base of the slopes, so we are without a place to go...and oh yeah, the bus that heads down the mountain and to Malargüe (where we will find a cheap hostel)- it doesn't leave till 5:30pm. Perfect. Our homeless, entirely ill-prepped for the snow day consists of four tired and hungry haggards hanging in a ritzy hotel lodge, riding the transit bus around, and dropping a ridiculous amount of plata on a measly bfast...and with loads of time to kill, thinking the whole time "Please don't kick us out..." Brit and Ras, who are really not feeling so hot (and with 6 hours until that bus departure) think it best to find lodging, and so after a few hours of catching up on shut eye in their room, Col and I bajar the mountain and head straight for Malargüe...
Now I have never been to Fargo, North Dakota, but Malargüe certainly brought up images of those stretches of nothingness from the movie entitled Fargo. Let's just say there wasn't a whole lot going on in the town I renamed 'Malargo'. As we wandered her frozen streets in search for a decent meal, we thought, "Where are we right now?" As you might guess, we never found that decent meal...and the hostel? "Ehh." The laughter was uncontrolable...both of us in that hysterically negative, make fun of everything mode...the decor of the hostel taking the major verbal beating- a given though, as it resembled a nursery school slash cafe, with a tumbleweed of monstrous proportions perched above the entrance armoir. The following day we packed up and headed back up the mountain to meet up with Brit and Ras. As Brit was still pretty beat, and as I wasn't dying to ski nor throw tons of money down for a few hours on the slopes, we kicked back in their toasty room while Col and Erasmo rocked the mountain (this, of course, came after 2 hours of frustrating haggle with the skipass grinch who wouldn't accept Col's voucher...never fails.) And so...the story ends. We parted ways once again and Col and I jumped on our lengthy bus ride back home to Buuuenos Aiiiiires...hallelujah.
Our good buddy Juan. I call him "Juanche" or "Juancher"- notsure if he is allthat fond of it, but I call him that anyway out of cariño(a collaboration of his name, Juan, and "che"- the Argentine "hey" commonly used when addressing another person.) Fun Facts: He studies Sociology. He teaches kiddies how to play the guitar. And like the majority of Argentines, he takes weekly visits to the psychiatrist. For more info on Argentina's obsession w/psychoanalysis:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IJmcU-kwMM :)
Meet Julieta, our friend/tutor whose got dance moves like no other. She started off as a tutor, and then quickly thereafter a friendship was born. Our once a week tutor sesh always opens up with hysterical chitter-chatter surrounding Argentinos, weekend outings, and upcoming to-do's.
Fellow Californian Mikey. We met him and his roommate/best friend, Robin, at a party a while back. Small world story: Upon me telling him I did massage, he said "Oh sweet. Yeah, my tutor has business cards of a student of hers who is doing massage here, and some fliers for some wellness package deal..." me: "Wait, who's your tutor?" mikey: "Julieta." me: "Julieta is my tutor! And those flyers/biz cards- that's us! Col and I, we are 'Samatha'! (the name of our pilates/massage package deal that has unfortunately not gone anywhere :) ...I about died.
Lucas. He looks super serious in this photo- I promise he's a nice guy. Yet another small world story: The first time he came over, I met him downstairs to let him in the building...he asks me, "Are you in 1e? Martin's apartment?" me: "Whaaaat?" lucas: "Martin is a friend of mine, best friend's w/my ex. I was just recently in Europe for a month, and saw him while in Barcelona..." Wild, right? Turns out he had spent a lot of time in our apt as his ex-novia used to live here.
Kayton & Becca. Kayton hails from Atlanta, GA...Was working in BA up until a few weeks ago when he had to return to the States to take care of some things. Great guy. And Becca, as in the Becca & Durban who went to school w/my bf from back home, Phoebe...both are incredible gals- their zesty spirits and fun loving personalities I find absolutely divine.
I met Jenni(chica on the left) while she was working at Coragroppo, a favorite store of mine...I was being the extremely indecisive person that I am regarding that jacket I am wearing in the photo (went back to the store like 10x before making the purch,) and upon going for it, I basically asked her to be my friend. Haha. Sounds funny. But she seemed like a rad person and hey, it's not easy to make friends that are girls here. And so that was that. She is now an awesome amiga...Fun Facts: She has about a year left in her textile/fashion design studies. She makes a mean caiparinha. And her, Col & I are dreaming up plans to start an Argentine/U.S. bikini line... look for it :)
After almost three weeks in the apartment solita, Coller returned from Chile and we were immediately met by a wave of visitors. Our first visitante, Sam, we had actually never even met- a nephew of Jude and Rob (Col's godparents slash good family friends who came to visit us in Brazil,) who was needing a little vacay before school got underway. One of the most easy going, pleasant-to-be-around chaps I have ever met...he put up with a lot :) as Col and I showed him the ropes of Baires in five days- I think he had a hellavuh time. Sammy's viaje overlapped with the arrival of Kauai-based lovebirds, Britney and Erasmo...many a good times were had as our days were filled with city meanderings, a horse race, workouts in the park, an apple stuffed-honey glazed chicken roast (which unfortunately was devoured in 5 minutes- we were in a rush, so yes, hands were involved,) groovin' at Bomba del Tiempo (a killer percussion show that Col and I often frequent on Mondays,) "Veronica"- Brit's peppy alter ego/workout prof persona that she puts on to lead her pound-shedding cardio sessions, a BsAs Fashion Week runway show (yes, Erasmo, being the trooper he is, went along...and totally enjoyed himself I might add!)...and lots of kickin' back at the apt.
Bife de lomo time at Miranda, our favorite parilla (steakhouse/grill) just around the corner.
An afternoon at the Hipodromo, Palermo's prime time horse racing track...
Britney Lee strikes a pose.
Buenos Aires Fashion Week is here. As Coragroppo is one of our favorite designers here in Baires, we hit up her show to see the not-yet-released designs on the catwalk. http://coragroppo.com/
A hand-banded duo. Brit & Coller at Bomba del Tiempo.
The inside skinny surrounding a few cositas that fill these days of mine... ...For some reason I crave apples at all hours, averaging about 6 a day- yesterday I had 8. Mom says I should cut back, but I don't see that happening anytime soon. Sorry mamers! For a little something dulce I've been slicing up sweet ladies, topping them with a glaze made of fresh lemon juice, raw honey, cinnamon and oats, and throwing those babies in the oven. Super-rica! ...I am a total gym rat-there's just no denying it. The classes at La Imprenta Fitness are superb. Absolutely obsessed with spinning, and my stretching teacher Walter? Don't get me started. The man is a hoot, and a hero- he is helping me with my tightening-of-the-quadriceps tendencies. I have a few middle-aged lady friends who I pump iron with, sauna with, etc...oh how I love charlar-ing it up with my fellow gym rat friends! The ambiance of the classes differ greatly from those I've taken in the States- there is sooo much more chitter chatter (esp from the female boca,) and when an exercise proves tough, these women will just scream out (literally) sighs and gasps like no other. And some of these bordering-on-sexual movements that the profs have us do in GAP (glutes, abs, piernas) class? Wow. A bit much, but I do find it rather comical. You know what's also entertaining are some of the getups that the sixty-something ladies wear...we're talking pantyhose, skintastic body suits in sparkled fuschias and golds, all topped off with a headband to match. It's incredible. ...Been meeting a lot of really fabulous people lately, hosting cenas and get togethers at the apt (which by the way I am still obsessed with) and hittin' the town with newfound amigos. I am struggling in the friendship photo department, but once I get my act together I'll be sure to post em'! ...And my first time experience as a masajista? You know, other than the minor bump in the road here and there, I must say that it's been treating me quite well. It's allowed for a flexible schedule which we all know I loooove, but of course the downside is the lack of consistency- one week I'll have six massages, the next, two. It's all very spur of the moment. The majority of my clients are those simply passing through Baires, most of them being businessmen from the States. The whole situation: me, young girl, with my massage table, oils, and música relajante going to the hotel rooms of men in a foreign city...seems pretty sketchy, right? Thank the good Lord I've not run into any bad situations thus far. Most I can see coming from a mile away- take for example, the guy who needed to talk to me on the phone regarding the session (whaaat?) who then proceeded to ask me in his creeper voice if I provided anything other than massage. It's really frustrating to be practicing massage, such a beautiful form of art and wellbeing, in a country that tangles it so liberally with sexual content. Those disturbing emails, they come every now and again, asking for photos, or if I am available at ten o' clock that evening...straight to the recycle bin they go! As for the folks I've actually met and worked on, it's been wonderful...and even better when they are residing here in Baires as I am able to develop a relationship with them. One client who I just actually met for the first time last week, lives in a 3-story penthouse (w/pool and parilla on the rooftop terrace) with a killer panoramic view of the city...he talked my ear off the entire massage (real nice guy- friend of a friend,) and then post-massage offered to take me home...I hesitated, but then thought alright- might as well save some plata. So there I am, total scrounger waiting on the curb with my massage table, and out he pulls in a slick-rick Ferrari! Can we say Julia Roberts and Richard Gere? Straight out of "Pretty Woman" let me tell you...I about died. Funny thing is the camilla didn't even fit in his hotrod ...hahaha... had to take a taxi.
I dedicate this post to that unexpected night of slumber a few friends and I shared a couple weeks back w/one kickin' group of Peruvians in one unassuming Peruvian joint known as "La Rica Vicky". We found ourselves at this horribly lit, no frills eatery quite randomly one evening as we wandered the streets post-Bomba (Monday night percussion show) in search of sustenance. It was Julie from France's birthday, and so of course, we all brought our festive energy into Vicky's, and immediately passed it along to the two other tables in the restaurant- giving way to one bizarrely beautiful noche. I suppose this was to be expected though, for when you throw a few Californians together with three Frenchies, two Argentinas, and a handful of Peruvians (plus a few rounds of cerveza)...good times are a given.
Newfound friends.
Mathieu buys not one bouquet, but he makes the flower vendor's night and buys all of them for his lovely Julie.
We made quite the scene running from table to table snapping photos of our motley crew.
We then tried to get photos with all of the staff...even managed to get the shy cook to come out!
Mathieu starts popping open the bottles of bubbly...
Coller, Mathieu, & Julieta.
Julie the birthday girl w/beer soaked hair (thanks to the Peruvians who literally poured glasses of brew on her head.)
The hooting and hollering coming from these ladies was priceless..."Eso!Eso!Eso!Eso!"
After about 5 minutes of the whole restaurant chanting "Torta! Torta!" our waitress brought out this jello whipped cream creation...and without a candle to light, we topped this sucker w/a ciggy and started in on the "feliz cumple"...
Photo sessions taken out of doors...
Not sure where this bici came from...???
Saluuuuud!!!
