Flodding

I haven't seen much rain since I've been to Buenos Aires. Supposedly the rainy season was in October and November, but I hardly noticed it. Most of the rain is dumped on the west side of the Andes Mountains, into Chile. But today we got more than our share of it.

My day started in the afternoon by taking a taxi to work. I was running a bit late and thought the colectivo (bus) might cut it a bit short. It had been pouring in the morning, but was finally clearing up with blue skies in the distance. We couldn't cross Ave. Juan B. Justo through, a major street bisecting the city. On the radio, I could hear that there was a meter of water blocking several roadways. The taxi driver and I went on a semi tour of the city, trying to find a thoroughfare. All streets were blocked and drivers were getting ansty.

After about 30 minutes, the taxi driver suggested I take a bus as they were the only ones who seemed to cross at Ave. Santa Fe. This of course was way out of the way from the hospital. Even the Subte (subway) had stopped. Once on the bus, we still didn't seem to be moving, It was a sea of Colectivos though, as most cars had been diverted back to where they came from. Slowly but surely, we made our way though. Wow, I thought, this reminded me of New Orleans. (Of course, I recognize this pales in comparison to the amount of flooding New Orleans had after hurricane Katrina.)

After crossing Ave Juan B. Justo, I hopped off the bus and grabbed another cab. This was one long and expensive journey to work. But at lease my toes were dry.

Doing the Right Thing

Latin America is not the safest place in the world. There are people who are robbed either by simple pickpockets or more frighteningly, at gunpoint. People have their bags stolen when they don't clutch them tight enough. Regardless, I feel safe in this city. I think it actually has a lower violent crime rate than in the States. It is said that you should carry an extra $2o pesos in your pocket so that if you are robbed, you can throw the $20 peso note (about 7 U$S ) at them and not have everything else stolen, including your precious bank cards and additional cash.

When I first arrived her in early October, I navigated with streets with a quick pace and a scowl on my face. "Stay away from me", I conveyed through my body language. But then I got tired of being an angry/no nonsense person and carried myself more naturally. I don't smile at strangers quite as much as I usually do in San Francisco, but I've long lost the scowl from my first few days. I've also long lost that extra $20 in my pocket. It was spent a long time ago.

Today I rode the subte (Buensos Aires subway) to Plaza Congresso, to meet some friends for a visit to the Casa de las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo. It was crowded as we all pushed ourselves through the entrance gates just in time for the arriving train. I was behind a short man holding a long sleeved shirt behind a woman. He seemed to be trying to hide what the woman in front of him was doing. She seemed to be tapping the side pocket of the man in front of her. I was taller than them all, (so I could see most of this.) The man, I assume was being pick pocketed, was oblivious. I just kept watching, somewhat in denial of what I was actually witnessing. Things seemed to move in slow motion as I thought: What are my options for trying to stop this, what would I want if I were being robbed, isn't it safer to just walk away? I hugged my timbuktu bag closer to my chest. Suddenly I found myself leaning over the suspicious couple and tapping the shoulder of the guy being robbed.

He turned around, looking a bit agitated (after all, he didn't want to miss this train), the couple turned around and glared at me, 2 other people stared at me. "Oh crap", I thought! "What am I thinking" I just shrugged my shoulders and shook my hands as if to say, "oh, no...nothing, I didn't mean anything", turned away and walked along the platform. I passed several open doors of the train, but just couldn't enter any of them. I just didn't quite know what I was doing. My only thought was to walk away. As the train took off, more people filled the platform waiting for the next train. I looked down the platform. The suspicious couple didn't seem to get on the train either. All the more reason to think they were up to no good.

I'm still not sure if it was the right thing to do, but I wouldn't change a thing if I could do it all over again.

Smart Girls Guide to Clubbing

I'm sure San Francisco has some good dance clubs, it's just not the scene I'm typically involved with and thus, I don't know the good clubs. Once a year, I might venture out. It's usually for the SF Tri Club year end party. We wrap things up around 11pm and suddenly you can tell when the club opens the doors to other night revelers. The patrons are usually much skinnier with tiny arms and legs (men and women), lots of makeup, and they wear clothes that you typically can't find in Sports Basement. As they enter the club, we leave, after all, it's early to bed so we can wake up fresh for the morning run.

But my sabbatical from work has also been a sabbatical from triathlon and thus I find myself becoming an expert on the club scene, at least here in Buenos Aires.

1. Attire: I think athletes are onto something. Dance clubs are hot and sweaty, kind of like an aerobics class. Tennis shirts are cute and flattering, and best of all, made from DryFit®. So, in order to look your best while in the sweltering smoking club, I recommend wearing tennis shirts. The Williams' sisters are onto something with their new design line.
2. Flaunt one good asset, not all of them. It's great to show off your nice long legs in a short shirt, or your flawless back in a open back top, or flash a little cleavage with a low cut top and your favorite jeans. Just avoid doing all of this at one time.
3. Don't get frustrated with the bouncer when he lets all the younger girls get in the door ahead of you while you keep on waiting outside. You'll learn later on in the evening that they are "working" that night and thus get free entry into clubs.
4. Wrap up the evening with friends watching the sun rise at a local coffee shop, drinking a strong coffee cortado, eating medialunes or tostados, and already recounting the evenings festivities.
   

(This post was a collaboration between Rob and Julia Evans and me.)

Musical Cafes

There's a confiteria (casual cafeteria place) a few blocks away from me that has WiFi. I have gone there occasionally to work online when I don't want to be stuck at home. It has air conditioning which can be a nice relief from the sweltering heat. The other night, after exchanging typical pleasantries with the waiter (how long are you here, what are you doing here, do you like Argentina, etc.) the waiter said to me, "you are muy bonita." I just said thank you and went back to chatting online with my sister. The next time I went there, I think he asked me out, but I'm not sure I understood him. Just before I left, he asked if I had a boyfriend back home, then a boy friend here. I sort of made an excuse saying it was harder to date here given the language barrier. Then he said something and I just kind of nodded and didn't say anything back (which is when I think he may have asked me out.)

I haven't gone back since. Not that I was particularly avoiding him, it's just not one of the places I frequent. I also have no idea how old he is, anywhere from 25 to 45! And while he was certainly a handsome Argentine man, I just thought of the encounter as a typical Argentine interaction where the men are constantly trying to pick up any woman within a 50 yard radius.

This afternoon I went to a nicer restaurant in the neighborhood to spend some more time on the computer working on an article with Julie and have a nice lunch. After sitting down and chatting with the owner (yes, I'm here to learn Spanish, I'm from California, I've been here for 4 months, yes, I love Argentina..........), she complimented me on my Spanish. At that moment, the waiter approached and said, yes, her Spanish is excellent and she's doing all sorts of interesting things. It was the SAME waiter from the other place!! I was shocked. So much for not really avoiding him.

Global Voting

I don't think of myself as a very political person. It's not something I'm super passionate about, but I do feel it's important to know about local and world politics and it's also very important that people exercise their right to vote and not take it for granted.

I'm excited about this election year mostly because the Democrats have two very strong candidates for President and I'm very optimistic for what 2009 will bring. I'd be happy to have either Hillary or Obama represent me in November. I'm ready to feel proud of my country again because our government is not something I've been so proud of recently.

So when I learned that the Democrats Abroad would be holding the first ever Global Primary, with their very own delegates representing them at the National Convention, I knew I wanted to participate in this historic event. Sure, global expats would have far fewer delegates at the convention than California, but perhaps my single vote would represent a bigger percentage of the delegates say there. The global primary would also be testing an online voting system which could be used in future elections. The picture above is of me casting my vote in Tazz Bar. (Maybe the US would get more voters out if they held elections in the local pubs! By contrast, in Argentina, all pubs are closed the day of elections.)

Around the world, on Super Tuesday, Democrats Abroad were having parties to watch the results streaming from US television channels and casting their own votes. I joined expats from Hong Kong, Bangkok, Dublin, Berlin, Lebanon and more for this exciting night. It was a great party too. There must have been over 200 of us in Buenos Aires. While discussions are usually about where you can find the best Mexican food, or navigating the Immigration office to renew a visa, we were in full blown discussions about national health care, fundamental beliefs of Libertarians, and how the electorate college functions, all while sipping Argentina's Quilmes beer.

After placing my vote, a woman from Reuters approached me for an interview. CNN, Reuters, ABC, and Argentine Newspapers were there for the event. Read more about the election here and my 15 minutes of fame. Maybe I should pick a different country to live in for each election!
http://in.reuters.com/article/worldNews/idINIndia-31789020080206

Casa Felix

Much of the food here is steak, potatoes, pizza, and pasta. The steak indeed, is some of the best steak I’ve eaten, perhaps ever. But after awhile, it becomes a bit monotonous. There’s a sense that there isn’t much imagination in the average Argentine restaurant. It’s good, but even too much of the same good thing gets old.

And then my friends and I went to Casa Felix. This is a “closed door” restaurant, also known as a private restaurant. It sounds a bit exclusive, but on the contrary, it was a very intimate, laidback setting, for a close group of friends. There’s no sign on the door, in fact, it’s not really a restaurant. It’s the cook’s house. Diego Felix, invites people into his house creating the most imaginative meals in all of Argentina. For starters, he has a garden in his back yard where he collected fresh herbs for our meal. We had an Argentine/Mexican fusion dinner, starting with marinated beats wrapped in zucchini, a mint sorbet palate cleanser, a main course of white fish tamale with Mexican mole and guacamole mango garnish, and dessert was a type of flan with mate dusting (Mate is the popular “tea” drunk in Argentina and Uruguay and parts of Brazil.) Such flavors! Fresh fruits and veggies! My mouth was going into shock after being confined to boring gastronomic isolation. We will be back.

1/16/2008