Armpit Inspection

It is HOT. It is swelteringly hot. Temperatures have been around 40 Celsius, which is near 100 Fahrenheit! I think living in San Francisco for the past 7 years has weakened me to such extreme heat.

So Drew and I decided to cool down with a dip in one of the many city pools while at the same time getting in a workout. Club de Amigos is located in the Woods of Palermo, the largest city park I've found so far. It has everything! It seems like a huge country club. There are all sorts of fields for futbol, field hockey, basketball, , sunbathing (the second national sport here, second only to futbol.) Getting in was a challenge. On line, their entry was listed as being $7 pesos. This had then gone up to $10 pesos, and there was a separate fee for the pool, $25 pesos. Everywhere we turned, the price started going up! It is the new year and inflation is at about 20%. In the end, it was about U$S 11, so a fair enough price.

The two outdoor pools were packed with people and didn't have lap lanes, so we checked out the indoor pool. It seemed like a decent pool, with plenty of space in the lanes. But before I could get in, the life guard came up to me and said I needed to get a doctor's note. What? Around the corner there is a small medical office. I waited for Drew to come out of the men's dressing rooms to explain this to him. He had already gone through this whole scenario. When trying to check in his bag, the guy asked him for a certain piece of paper. Drew's Spanish is excellent when it comes to ordering food or asking for directions. It's everything you need to get by driving your motorcycle through Mexico. Being told he needed a doctor's note was not in his vocabulary. after multiple attempts to explain this to Drew, the bag-check clerk jumped over the counter and walked Drew to the medical clinic. With a clean bill of health documented on a piece of paper, Drew was ready to swim. He gave me a quick update on what to expect. I sat on a bench in my bathing suit, waiting for the door to open. It was a small room with a guy in a white coat. He asked me to raise my arms to check for fungus in my armpits. I hesitantly raised my arms, fearful of offending him with my sweaty pits. It's been a hot and sticky day. This is the last thing I want to do! Then he checked my feet for athletes foot or toenail fungus. Augh, what a job this guy has. I hope it's not his full time job. I can just see his resume "armpit and toe inspector!"

Then it was back to the pool to finally do some swimming. Drew was at the other end of the pool and shouted back to me, "Hey Nic, check this out!" He stood up and the water came up to his knees. The water was only 1.5 feet deep at the other end! So in swimming my laps, every time I came to the far side of the pool, my fingertips would graze the bottom of the pool. This would be perfect for triathletes as this signals the time to jump up and start running out of the lake or ocean.

In the end, it felt great to swim a few laps and use muscles that have been resting for quite some time. And now I also know that I officially have clean armpits and toes!

Happy New Year

The invitation to the New Year's Party said to come after midnight. How can you have a New Year's Party that misses the count down? Apparently this is normal in Buenos Aires.

Parties in the States are more about leading up to the New Year. You ring it in together and then the party tends to end sometime after midnight, maybe around 1AM. Contrast that with Buenos Aires, the New Year seems to represent the start of the partying. The night of the 31st is more about spending time with family and having a big dinner together. Then, after midnight, people disperse to dance in the street, light fireworks and then head to various parties.

Drew previously met the owner of Limbo and Limbo Club when we were out having drinks (early one other morning). A call to the owner got us a roof top table at his restaurant and we were seated about 11pm. It was midnight and the temperature was still around 40 Celsius, or 100 Fahrenheit. It was a sharp contrast to typical New Years in the Northern Hemisphere. At midnight, fireworks lit up the sky above our heads while Love Generation blared from the speakers. The fireworks were directly over our heads. Glowing embers were falling down on some tables. These fireworks were not a organized city event, but rather set off by anyone who bought them at the many firework stands on the street. At times I stepped back under the small awning hoping to get a little protection from the sky that seemed to be falling.

We met two girls from Holland, Lisette and Annelies and at about 2am, decided to head to our New Years party. On our way out, there was dancing in the street, so naturally, we joined in. There was an alcohol check point at the end of the block, so Drew managed to persuade them to check his blood alcohol. It registered at 0.38%, nearly 5 times the legal limit in the US. The surprising part though, it that they told him he'd be fine to drive. Now I know the laws are a bit crazy in Argentina, really only suggestions, but that's crazy. Drew said he felt pretty good, but a 0.38% is close to death and serious alcohol poisoning. Percentages are percentages, so there shouldn't be a difference where it's measured in metric or British units. They must be measuring something different as driving with a 0.38 BAL would be crazy, even for Argentina.

Around 3AM we finally made it to the New Years Party on a beautiful roof top terrace. There was a full view of the city and a swimming pool for dipping our toes. The party continued on until we started to see the sun peaking up, lightening the sky with a dusty pink color. I finally strolled on home and made it to bed by 8AM. It's just as well I'm only here on a 6th month sabbatical because I honestly don't know how long I could keep it up. I find it hard to recalibrate my sleep schedule when I wake up at 5PM the following day (or really the same day). Regardless, I'm optimistic for a great 2008, full of dancing and celebrating.

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.

Cerre Torre, El Chalten (Patagonia)

Today we did a longer hike, 22km total, to see the Torre peak, glacier and lake. There’s was a large tour group from the south of France doing the same trek, so we gave them plenty of lead so as not to feel too crowded on the trails. Despite the fact that there are only a few trails and everyone must stick to these specific paths, it never felt crowded. In fact, most of the time we were on our own except at occasional lookout points.

The start of our trek was beautiful. Not as sunny as yesterday, but most of the trail was protected from the strong Patagonian winds. It started drizzling as we got closer to the turnaround. By the time we made it to the lake, the rain picked up, but not enough to dampen our spirits. We ate some chocolate and granola bars and admired what view we had. I put a pair of Lyle's woolly socks (a clean pair, not the pair he was wearing!) over my hands to stay warm.



11:30 on a Thursday. Normally I'd be at the UCSF Cancer Risk tumor board. This is so much better! (Why am I even thinking about work???)


Part of the trail was along the Torre river which is fed from the lake. Similar to the water at the Perito Moreno glacier, this water is a milky turquoise blue from the sediment that accumulates from the passing glacier.


If you are with a guide, you can cross the river and then hike on the glacier. This is Lyle attempting his own river crossing. A bit of the glacier is in the back ground.


Heading back home with ominous weather trailing us, but still a great hike.
(All photos from Lyle)