The group with the tall guy.....and partying with Nicola

It's 6:30 AM and I'm on my balcony watching the sun rise after a night out with friends. The birds are chirping, the sky is clear, and I can't believe I've just come home from a simple night of dinner and dancing with friends. The Argentines very much work on a different schedule!

Last night...or do I describe it as tonight, was a great evening joining friends from different circles. My two Swiss girlfriends were celebrating their last night out before heading to Chile for 3 weeks. Karina, a girl from London whom I met at the South American Explorers club, brought 2 fellow English girls, including another Nicola (the first ever Nicola I've met in person!), and then there were two Argentine girls we met the previous night while out in Palermo SoHo, and then there was Drew, my college buddy who has spent the last 2 months on his motorcycle riding through Mexico.

So any time a tall striking man enters a bar with 8 women, it's sure to draw attention. Several hour later, while waiting to order a drink at the bar, two men from South Africa started chatting with me. "So, are you part of the group with the tall guy?" I looked at them a bit surprised when they assumed I spoke English. I think I see myself as blending in better than I really do. I'm starting to feel like a local and forget that I have fair features and curly hair. A bit later, a young porteno said, "oh, you're with the guy with the girls!" It seems we had made a name for ourselves.

The men in Argentina are known for their love of women. No woman has walked by a table of men without being checked out. Men never hide their gawking, or pretend to just be glancing in the general direction of the object they seem to be inspecting. But it seems tonight that the men were noticing the one male counterpart of our large group. Perhaps they were trying to figure out his secret.

Meeting another Nicola was a bit surreal. I somehow felt that I had found a long lost twin. We immediately hit is off. Her wonderful wit and sense of humor and the tall elegant way she carried herself reminded me of my friend Jane, also from England.

The sky by now is clearly blue and there is no denying that it is fully daytime. I'm off to bed to catch a few zzzzz's so I can at least wake up in the early afternoon and not feel like I've completely lost my Sunday.

Blocked by Tape: A Letter Home

Dear Family,
AUGH, I love Argentina, but dealing with bureaucratic government agencies such as the post office is maddening. But anyway, my rant really has nothing to do with the government. It's more of a Christmas apology for your not getting gifts from me. Unless I can figure something else out.

Here's the story. I just returned from a long time at the post office with a package of gifts. I put everything into a shoe box, used a paper bag turned inside out to cover it, and was off. Actually I did that yesterday, walked to the post office, only to learn it closed 5 minutes before. This morning I returned. Well, did you know that you can not have tape on the outside of your package? I don't know why. They were happy to supply me with a glue stick. When I pointed to
other packages that had tape, they said, "Oh yes, but those are for within Argentina." Now the post office does have boxes of their own. But they only had really big ones. Another issue is that the package needs to be under 2kg. My package is 2.2 kg So even with the right box and magic glue, I still wouldn't be able to mail it.

Within my package is a 600gm box of 12 alfajores, a super rich Argentine cookie sandwich filled with dulce de leche. They have about a million calories each. To deal with the weigh issue, I envisioned myself sitting outside the post office eating about 4 of these, but then I would probably go into a diabetic coma and the package would really never be mailed.

Finding the right box: The post office sent me to a papeleria (paper store) to get another box. After walking a few blocks only to find it was right around the corner they told me to come back in 4 hours, someone would package it all up for me. But they don't have a scale, so I still wouldn't be sure it was under the right weight. I went to another papeleria, who said I should go back to the post office and use their boxes. Or keep trying to find another post office (each
with a 60 min wait or more) to get the right size. He also said that the post is not secure here at all. I should use a private carrier. I checked with fedex a few days ago, but at U$S 95, more than the value of the gifts, I thought that was just crazy.

Anyway, I don't think our family is the superficial type that needs to have some sort of commodity under the tree from each person. So I truly believe this is more an issue for me than it will be for you. I just really wanted to have some unique treasures from Argentina to share with you all on Christmas morning since I wont be there.

So in the end, I went home, frustrated and upset, and ate an alfajore.
Love Always,
Nicola

Uruguay for Lunch

On the other side of the river from Buenos Aires (Rio de la Plata), is Uruguay. There's a quaint little town here called Colonia, so Emily and I took the ferry over to have lunch and explore the town. Plus it would add another stamp to our passports. After clearing through customs and immigration, we boarded the ferry. WOW, this was a huge boat. I felt like I was on a cruise ship. (Clearly I haven't been on a real cruise ship!) We were joined by a large group of Harley Davidson riders as there was an event going on in another Uruguayan town, Punte del Este. Harley riders look the same around the world: jeans, white t-shirt, black leather jackets, chains and tattoos.

Officially known as Colonia del Sacramento, the tranquil town dates back to 1680 when it was originally a Portuguese settlement. It acted as a contraband port to Buenos Aires for goods that were restricted by the Spanish government. I found it interesting that Buenos Aires and Colonia are literally right across from each other, but one grew to become the 3nd largest city in Latin America and the other one is a tiny tourist village. They seem centuries apart.

The historic district is located on a small peninsula jutting out into the river. There are quaint tiny homes and narrow cobblestones streets. We found an outside cafe for lunch, dining on fresh fish, which not commonly found in Buenos Aires, and some good wine. After chatting with a bookstore owner, she sent us to a local artist. He was working in his studio when we arrived, but invited us into his house to see some of the beautiful Chinese kites he makes, and amazing photography. Emily and I then strolled the town until it was time to catch the ferry back home.




The cobbled stones streets were treacherously rocky. Crossing the street was more like rock climbing!

Breaking the bank

A few years ago, I came to the realization that I was no longer a poor struggling graduate student. I hadn't been for quite some time now and was finally making a decent salary, and really needed to start taking my finances a bit more seriously. So in an effort to keep my mind focused on saving, I wanted to get a piggy bank. No, not to store my life savings, but just a little symbolic something to put on my bookshelve to remind me of the importance of saving.

The cute little chrome piggy banks are popular baby gifts. Somehow though it seemed a bit silly to be in my 30s wanting a baby's gift. So I kept hunting around trying to find an urban chic model of the more typical christening or baby shower gift. I never found anything. (Maybe that's the reason I don't have better investments!)

The other day I was searching through the Craigslist's "for sale" items as I wanted to get a bike and desk. I met a girl leaving Argentina to heading to Denmark. Turns out she's actually from Chapel Hill and her grandparents live in Cary. It's such a small world. I made plans to hit her moving sale.

So imagine my surprise when I entered her apartment and found a cute terracotta piggy bank. It's exactly what I didn't realize I had been searching for all this time. And.....wow, I really hit the jackpot....this one came with money in it! SOLD!

But there's a catch. See, this little bank only has one opening at the top to insert your money. The only way to get your money out is to, literally, break the bank. He's too cute to ever break. Well see how long this feeling prevails when I'm searching for exact change to ride the colectivo (the bus).

ADDENDUM:
Two days later, Emily and I went to Uruguay for the day and I found an even better piggy bank, painted gray with pink spots. Hmm, I liked this one better. So now I have two piggy banks. I'm taking this as a good sign about my future finances.