EZE to MIA

Of all my worldly adventures, this trip consists of the most densely packed three weeks of traveling.  I commence with a complete 9 hour mid day flight in the coveted middle seat. Next to the bathroom, in front of the screaming, seat kicking three year old who ranked only second to worst behind her mother, who was clearly oblivious that her repeated scolding (easily mistaken for begging) was completely ineffective. The only thing worse than an annoying toddler is the obnoxious parent who doesn’t understand their culpability in the creation of unruly monsters. I have patience for kids, not for adults. Thanks to TAM however, who happens to be one of my new favorite airlines, I watched about 6 films, ate a sufficient gluten free meal, and was even given cappuccino flavored candies. A nice little touch for the sweet-toothed coffee fiend I’ve become.

So with zero sleep, off a three hour rest the night before, I arrived in MIA ready for the expected culture shock that accompanies every return trip to the states. Amanda and Clyde found me at the airport and took me back to his family’s house where I was warmly received by his lovely mother and grandmother with a brief visit from his brother, sister in law, and their beautifully chunky baby girl Eloise. I couldn’t have received a better welcome and was even comfortable enough to fashion my new lilac bridesmaid gown for the entire bunch. Thank god Amanda has good taste and I’ve yet again dodged every girl’s fear of being put in a hideous dress.

After a night of seriously heavy sleeping, rain showers inaugurated my duties as active bridesmaid. Unable to attend any of the previous events and planning, I’d promised Amanda my life for three weeks prior to the big day to help her sort out any of the last minute responsibilities. But truth be told, I’d be anyone’s gopher in exchange for a week long trip to Haiti, a few days in California and some errands in Miami.  I’m not sure I’ve even been much of a help to Amanda, but I know I’m having a blast!

Port-au-Prince coast line:
A  little preview of the many Haiti shots to come

Just Call Us Tourists

The tiny town of Tupungato laden with
vineyards and picturesque countryside. 

Tupungato and The Alta Montaña Route

Though unable to capture the truly natural beauty, photos from the second half of our Mendoza trip pretty much speak for themselves. Fernanda and I found ourselves in Tupungato wandering the country roads while Maria visited the National University of Cuyo. It was a completely sunny, calm, and relaxing afternoon followed by a full day spent on a tour bus traversing the remote and scenic routes of the Andes Mountains.

I couldn't have asked for better travel companions!  

A map of the historic route taken by San Martin
and his men with the bridge they built
(on left) to assist the over 5,000 soldiers.

A little shut eye at Puente del Inca

Puente del Inca is a naturally formed bridge that
led to a hotel used by train traveling tourists.
 The lime rich thermal baths are now closed to visitors

As close as we could get to Aconcagua without
having to pay the $3000 USD park entrance fee.
Alpinists are given a 20 day pass to summit and
are kept on a very strict and expensive itinerary. 

Day Two: Maipú

 

Officially working on a Masters of Development and Procrastination Management, I've decided to diligently continue my studies this evening. A quick post about our afternoon spent wine tasting should do the trick. 

After sleeping in too late, a quick breakfast of stale croissants, rice cakes with funky strawberry jelly, and instant coffee we ventured out. Making a few stops for maps, bus cards, and vague directions we finally stumbled across the 10 bus and were en route to the countryside. Getting off the bus about 30 mins too early in the center of Maipú (not where the vineyards are) we hopped another bus full of giggling teenagers on their way to school and got off at the first bike rental place we saw. 

Our nice guide describing the
original process of stomping
grapes inside this leather tub.  

Mr. Hugo's had decent Tripadvisor reviews and since we felt fairly confident that my guiding abilities could be used in a foreign land, we opted out of hiring a guide and simply took the bikes -with helmets of course. A twenty kilometer round trip circuit with more than ten stop offs at wineries, olive oil and chocolate factories would keep us busy for an entire day. But since we arrived around 2pm, knowing that most places closed at 5, we narrowed our options to the olive/chocolate factory (my top pick), the next door wine museum and large bodega La Rural (Maria's choice), and the boutique winery Carinae  (Fernanda's election). We chose well. 

At the Museum

The first was a quick explanation of the olive oil making process followed by a tasty assortment of oils, olives, chutneys, marmalades, dulce de leche, chocolates and liquors. We decided to collectively purchase a jar of cabernet sauvignon syrup with hopes of creating an amazing dish with almonds, brie, and fruit to accompany our bottle of wine that we purchased at the next stop. 

This is an example of the
traditional way to grow
vines. Now they are more
commonly shorter which
makes for easier picking. 

An extensive tour of Bodega La Rural and the largest wine museum in Latin America -with over 5,000 artifacts of incredible quality- culminated with a wine tasting that was not very impressive. They obviously make their house wine crappy so that you feel you need to buy a bottle of higher caliber just to make sure that they know how to make a decent product. Fortunately, your entrance fee to the museum is deducted from any purchase, so we combined out discounts and bought the most expensive bottle possible. I'll let you know how it is once we try it with our wine syrup. Overall, it was really interesting to learn about the vine growing process, fermentation, the barrels, wine varieties and the history of the region. 

Enjoying our wine and cheese

After rushing out the door, we were left with about an hour to ride the 10 kilometers on half country road half bike trails to get to Carinae, a much smaller and younger operation owned by a French couple. Being my first shot at wine tours, I was satisfied to see the larger scale production compared to a much smaller bodega. The difference is rather astonishing but the latter is definitely more charming; romantic if you will. The owner's love for astronomy is reflected in the name (a constellation that sits directly over the winery during the time of the harvest) and each line is similarly named after constellations. We chose a larger tasting this time around. Exhausted and famished after rushing to make it before closing time, we tried over 5 different wines with a plate of fresh goat cheese and house made salami. It's totally true, they serve more than a taste! We finished up rather quickly however when our guide informed us that he was late to pick up his daughter. The sun was on it's decent anyway and frequent reminders from Mama Maria that we didn't want to ride back in the dark kept us moving along. The twilight hues offered the perfect lighting for a few tipsy photo breaks, but we made it back before sunset.

If you look closely enough,
you'll see our police
escort on the right side just over
Fer's shoulder. I was trying
to snap an inconspicuous shot.
Think he noticed?

The locals however, definitely weren't going to leave it to us to make it home safely. I'd heard tales of official police escorts but was surprised when an officer on a dirt bike pulled up next to Fernanda in the back and started up a conversation. Going at the pace of our pedaling, he patiently rode with us all the way back while radioing to dispatch to call Mr. Hugo and let him know that his bikes were safe and sound. I can only imagine the sloppy scenes they've had to deal with after someone partakes in the ten-stop tour. Good thing we woke up late. Surely we'd have failed the straight line test for the ride back after a full day of tastings. Bikes returned, a bowlful of cheetos later and a sleepy bus ride in the dark, we were at the Hotel snuggled into bed resting for the next day's activity. 

A few quick interesting facts: Many farmers cover their crop with a netting to protect the delicate grapes from hail storms which are known to ruin an entire year's worth of work. The Medocino government often prevents hail from dropping over the region by sending charges into storm clouds inciting the premature hail storms before they are over the bodegas. La Rural also has rose plants in rows on the ends of rows of vines. No, it's not to make the atmosphere more romantic. It's an early warning system for pests and crop killing diseases. Roses are very susceptible to the same ailments as grapevines and will show symptoms before the vines, giving farmers the chance to react according. 

Buses a Bodegas

Tensions are rising in Buenos Aires due to recent government policy adjustments and it seems as though we picked the perfect week to flee from the highly politicized capital and catch some fresh air in the lovely town of Mendoza. (This link by the way takes you to the Ministry of Tourism. Trust me ladies, stop by on your way through town. Mendoza really knows what it has to offer and they are in no shortage of Mendocinos to point you in the right direction.) Known for its sprawling wineries overlooked by one of the most spectacular mountain ranges in the world, this place is enough to make you forget that Argentina is going through some serious internal battles. So as thousands of Porteños marched on Plaza de Mayo last Thursday night we watched calmly from our hotel room, sipping a bottle of lovely Malbec, and thanking the lord that I had moved a week early. (My previous home was just a few blocks from Congress. I don't anticipate any serious decrease in political charge, meaning more and more traffic-stopping protests, drum beating, flier throwing and the loud cannon-like firework explosions typical of all marches.)

The shard proof window shade

Our trip didn't however start off so smoothly. Fernanda, Maria and I caught a bus from the Retiro Terminal on Saturday evening and settled in for our 14 hour ride. A nice gentlemen across the alley nonchalantly asked us to pull our window covers closed explaining that kids often throw rocks in the area of Luján. What?... We were skeptical. Porteños  know everything and are always sure to tell you what they think, give advice, and insist on the following of their instructions so we guessed, just another paranoid porteño, make him happy, close the shades. Two hours later: BAAM! Two windows, directly across from our seats, shattered everywhere! He was completely serious. We were utterly shocked. A short drive to the next terminal followed by a two hour wait (at least we had a movie) for the replacement bus and we were back on the road. Rocks and windows being our only hiccup, we arrived safely and well rested the next morning ready to take on the wine country.

Pancho the Hotel Zamora pup

Our romantic first dinner
with the lovely red wine
at Ocho Cepas. 

Day one was very calm. We met up with the family of Maria's friend and shared an awesome Peruvian lunch: Ceviche, calamari, beans, rice, and most importantly REAL hot sauce. We wandered the city center, visited Parque San Martin which is absolutely beautiful and began to enjoy the much slower pace of life. Learning that siestas, which don't exist in BA are alive and well in the rest of the country. Dinner was at an amazing restaurant half a block from the hotel where we enjoyed our favorite wine of the trip (an AltaVista Malbec) and I had my best meal: a mixed greens salad with trout and almonds. And since about 85% of happiness on my vacations are dependent upon the food I eat, expect to hear about a lot more meals in the next couple posts.

Who doesn't LOVE mini ice creams???

Which reminds me! I almost forgot to share that we found the most amazing ice cream shop, Bianco & Nero of which I'm convinced also has a locale in BsAs. Don't worry, I WILL find it! We were of course undecidedly gawking at each flavor when they offered us tastes of almost every one, some served in miniature elf sized cones, making the experience even that much 'cuter'. Cubana was a favorite: creamy mandarin flavored ice cream with dark chocolate chunks and candied orange zest. I was also a big fan of the mascarpone with forest fruits, but saved that for round two. And Maria, being from Costa Rica, was pleasantly surprised by the decent cup of coffee they serve which I promise, is hard to come by in Argentina.

Feliz Año!!!

My first toast to Argentina

Happy One Year Anniversary Argentina!

Hard to believe, yes, but I've been here for an entire year and am still completely in love with my life in Buenos Aires. As a quick review, I went back to some of my original posts and noticed a common theme: Discovery. My first few Argentine months were packed with "The Kristin and Brett Explorer Collection" including gardens, parks, museums, clubs, restaurants, public transportation and much, much more. I'm pleased to announce that the exploration has not stopped!

Our day two bike tour 

One of my most recent achievements (that those of you familiar with BA transit will appreciate) I've finally begun to use a Sube card! Thanks to Maria and her extra card, I am now skipping those annoying subte boletería lines and whizzing past the bus drivers with a quick swipe of my magnetic strip. Though my bicycle is my closest companion, with the recent spurts of rain, I feel like the new addition to my wallet's credit card slots is the perfect way to seal the one year deal.

The Sube card has been very useful while learning bus routes to and from my new casa. After exhausting just about every inch of my original neighborhood, Monserrat, I've discovered my new home. Completely on the opposite side of the city, I've moved to a more 'happening' area. I am farther from school (one of grandma's biggest concerns) but since we only have class a couple times a week, I'm sure this wont create a problem and I'm even closer to work. One of the biggest pluses of my move though: I get to discover an entirely new area of the city. It's like I've moved to BsAs all over again!

My first San Telmo St. Market

As much as I'd love to spend the first weekend in my new apartment, which I might as well add has a balcony, parilla, and pool - Huge score! - I've planned to venture across the country one more time to Mendoza. Only a 14.5 hour bus ride away and Maria and I will be enjoying fancy Argentine wines in at the base of the Andes Mountain Range. With some day trips to the peaks and of course some white water rafting (weather permitting. It's still winter here remember) in one week's time I intend to be a wine expert, or at least know the difference between a wine tasting in which you drink too much and one in which you play it right actually making it to lunch at the end! I can't imagine a better way to spend my anniversary.

Gotta Love Nature

The Thays Home

This morning I arose ready to conquer my very first tour scheduled to be conducted in Spanish. I can't lie, I was a bit nervous, but confident enough to be excited. I rode up to Plaza Italia, I set up the bikes in the Botanical Gardens and as I chatted with the security guard, Guillermo, (a good conversation in castellano to prepare me for the afternoon) I began to suspect that something wasn't right. 11:10, no guests. 11:15, still no sign. 11:30, ok, that's a no show. Such a bummer, but it happens from time to time. Instead of being disappointed all day I took advantage of the incredibly summery weather we are experiencing and took a stroll through the Botanical Gardens Carlos Thays.

Thays was a French architect hired by the city of Buenos Aires in 1889 to help design the public parks and green spaces. He created the Botanical Gardens in 1898 and lived with his family in the house located at the center. He is responsible for making BA the attractive and green city it is today. Thanks to this fine naturist, every Sunday I'm in a beautiful setting, preparing bikes for our graffiti tour, but have never once spent a decent amount of time exploring the park. The security guards are always telling me I should check it out. I've briskly walked past or through on several occasions and once stopped in to take some photos with Kristin, but something was still missing. Today was the day!

My favorite statue
IV tiempo de la VI sinfonía de Beethoven

Impressive to say the least. The memory of Grandma and I enjoying the botanical gardens in Madrid was my first thought. I'll have to review my pictures but it seems that BA beats Madrid in the garden aspect. The sculptures are beautiful. I especially enjoyed those named for Beethoven's symphonies. The temperature could not have been more perfect, there were several people strolling around, a group of volunteers working on a gardening project and I was suddenly thankful to the no show tourists for giving me the chance to see what had always been right in front of me.

The lucky poo shot

I circled back around the Thays home preparing to enter, as they often have art exhibitions inside, when suddenly, I felt a nice squirt of cool, white bird poop drip down my shoulder, onto my top, and all the way down my leg. The stench was tremendous! Who knew such a little thing could be so smelly. A nice bystander from Jujuy was kind enough to inform me that my hair was covered and then preceded to dump half of his bottle of water on my head to clean me off. Then informed me that I shouldn't worry because this brings good luck and giggled as I calmly tried to clean myself off with the half-ply toilet paper I had stuffed in my bag.

My garden tour ended abruptly, but at least I managed to get some pictures. On the way out Guillermo snickered as I told him about the bird and he was kind enough to remind me that the garden has lots of trees that attract birds. I'll be sure to bring my umbrella next time. The return bike ride was very quick as I was stimulated by the intermittent aromatic reminders that between my hair and helmet was a lovely layer of birdy waste. Back home and showered, I am looking forward to experiencing the luck that bird intended to bestow upon me.

Sharing is Caring

Visitors are always welcome here in BA. Yep, I am more than happy to share this wonderful city with anyone wanting to explore the southern hemisphere. In fact, I've decided that showing people all of the many reasons that this city totally has me captured is one of my favorite things to do. I've found the perfect job to capitalize on that goodness I feel when introducing newbies to the vast array of museums,  parks, historical sites, but obviously, and most importantly, restaurants! Each tour reminds me of why I feel completely at home here in Argentina.

 Luckily, outside of all the wonderful travelers I meet on the job, I've been fortunate enough to host some visitors of my own. Grandma kicked off the trend with a Thanksgiving visit last November and a stopover in Uruguay. Dad, Caden, and Silvia shared an awesome week of cycling, exploring, clubbing and a few afternoon cocktails in late February. And my most recent visitor Amanda, my first roommate EVER from my freshman year at AU just left and I already miss her. After two+ years of not seeing each other, it felt like just yesterday we were living together! And we ate at so many amazing restaurants that I can now show to all my future visitors. (Seriously, a lot of food, but A LOT. Our waistlines are grateful we don't live anywhere near eachother!) Each of these trips was a unique combination of emotions: excitement, exhaustion, relaxation and sadness at departure, but I am so happy that I've had the chance to introduce each of them to the awesome Buenos Aires. Please, please, please come see me again!

I would like to say however that none of these compared with the complete joy and content I felt when visiting home in June. Being my favorite month of the year, with Colorado's green mountains, warm days and cool evenings, the fresh summer vibe has the most incredible calming ability. Honestly, I had never before felt the happiness I did when spending those two weeks with those that I love most: my family. This year is the first that I've experienced a very extended period away from home and even so much time out of the US and it's true when they say distance makes the heart grow fonder. I'd never before understood the connection to home. Each morning I woke up early, took a walk with Winston while the sun was just peaking above Raiders Ridge, followed by relaxing mornings waiting to spend the day doing whatever I could to soak up as much Durango time as possible. We were together as a family to bring Grandma Willie home to Colorado one last time. A brief but wonderful road trip to CO Springs to see Breanne and her gorgeous family. Those kids melt me like they'll never understand. Everyone was so generous, breaking away from their busy schedules to spend time with me. Durango never seemed so good! 

Truth is, I should have wrote about the trip while there, but then again, if this blog is for those back home I don't need to add more detail. You were all there sharing in my pure 'being home' bliss! xo

*Please excuse the totally lame photo/text layout. I am fully annoyed and completely over the blogspot tools offered and have given up trying to make MY blog fit MY needs and preferences. :) As you can see I'm trying to be the bigger person, accept what is available, check my high expectations at the door, the list goes on and on. My perfectionist tendencies are getting the best of me at this point so I must now step away from the computer.

Here Begins the Winter Series

My first winter in Buenos Aires is almost over and until last week I was completely skeptical of anyone who had experienced a BA winter's capability to make an accurate description of the weather. I heard numerous stories of awful, wet, windy, overcast and stingingly cold days. Instead, winter arrived mildly. In fact, so mildly that I was not intimidated to take a trip to the mountains. A quick trip to Bariloche (Actually not quick at all. Twenty hours on a bus!) which is located in the south, in Patagonia and even though the mountains were covered in snow, I had nothing but an entire week of gorgeously sunny and cloudless days. A lot like Colorado winter days actually. The perfect cure for a homesick mountain girl yearning for some nature. Yep, I said it: homesick. With the quickly approaching mid June trip home, I could barely contain my excitement and simply couldn't wait to get out into the woods. Once again, my instincts served me well and I spent a week sucking in that pure bliss that comes with fresh mountain air, sunshine, and a good trail trek.

Turns out my first Couchsurfing selection wasn't too bad either. After arriving earlier than planned, I boarded a local bus to seek out my temporary home and met a friendly lady who happened to be a neighbor. She invited me over for mate and I shared with her the day old banana bread I'd lugged across the countryside. I knew I'd find someone to share it with! After hearing all about her family, politics, her limited cooking skills, and of course a firm lecture on being a young woman traveling alone, she accompanied me the few blocks to find my host. Greeted by Mario and two lovely girls from California who were also visiting, I immediately felt welcome. They   were more than happy to show me around town, hitchhike to the trailheads and enjoy an afternoon picnic on the bare ski slopes. Mario introduced me to several friends and I went with he and his toddler to the National Celebration of Patriot Day which happened to be in Bariloche this year. What are the odds that I'd have the chance to see Christina - La Presidenta - from arms length! *See video of poor quality below for the evidence. Pleas don't judge. It was a mad house! And it took forever to load, so watch it :)

 Parades, traditional pastries, hot chocolate made by the army and served out of old military tanks (I guess it's a tradition that the army makes chocolate...), performances by famous artists, flags, fireworks, the whole shabang and I was right in the middle of it! But no, this isn't even the best part. It gets better.

Upon the suggestion of more than a couple people I decided to load up the day pack and my sleeping bag and spend a night in the Refugio Frey. After a moderate four hour hike through the most incredible snow and ice covered terrain with breathtaking views of the various lakes in the area, I was completely awestruck at the sight of the mountain refuge to which I'd arrived. Overlooking a frozen lagoon and surrounded by jagged, rocky peaks I was speechless. The entire scene was the exact description of my ideal mountain hideaway. The refuge keeper Nahuel, a friend of his, and four other visitors were the only inhabitants for miles. We strapped on pairs of old rental ice skates and zipped around the lagoon... Indescribable. Nahuel made us a fire, he taught me how to play truco - the national card game of lying, cheating, and trickery - and let me win... Priceless. After a few games of dice and a couple bottles of wine we al bundled up in our sleeping bags and drifted off... Unmatched.

I woke up to a nice hot breakfast, drank coffee wrapped in a blanket while perusing the old photo albums and snuggling the Refuge kitty Emilio. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to stay. But needing to return to BsAs to diligently fulfill my duties as grad student extraordinaire, that is after all what I'm here for, right? I packed up my things, took a few last minute shots promising myself soon and many returns, and I headed back down the snowy path to civilization.

Easing Back Into It

It ebbs and flows this blog writing thing. Almost like a journal, which I've managed to maintain, complete with long occasional periods of neglect followed by months of daily consecutive entries, throughout the majority of my young adult life. Usually my journal reflects my mood. Change inspires me to write. A new experience, a traumatic event, or maybe a sudden realization that no one else is going to document my life.

Blogging of course is a bit different. It's forever accessible to millions, no billions of people... forever. The internet is ink, not pencil. Just because you've cut, deleted, erased, or de-tagged doesn't mean it's been removed from the digital network. And I find something intriguing about altering the entries on my blog to make posts appropriate for the potential billions of readers for years to come. Not to say of course that there will be billions of readers, no, I don't think I'm that interesting, but it's the possibility. The possibility that future acquaintances, bosses, employees, or my children one day will have access to whatever I publish on the internet.

More than anything, especially because this is my way to transmit information to my family and friends, to say things, describe my life in a way that maybe I wouldn't normally do over Skype, either because I forget during our brief chats or because some things are easier written than spoken, this blog is the "user friendly" version of Brett's insights on life. So no, this is not a journal; that's reserved for my more intimate and personal thoughts. The thoughts that I hope to share someday with those that maybe never had the chance to meet me or those that need to know just exactly what I've been thinking all these years. (I promise, it's not TOO outrageous!) The blog instead is my way to stay connected with those that I love who I can't be with every day. For those who read each new post, I just want to say that when I write it's because I want you to be a part of my life. No matter the distance or the long intervals between phone calls, it's special to me that you've taken an interest in what I have to say. So... thank you!

Now that I've exhausted my spurt of sentimental commentary, we can jump back into this regular blogging to which I was once so dedicated. I've been feeling the urge to get back into 'blog mode' lately and with all this rain and thunder we've been having I figure now's the time! After a crazy, beautiful week of constant tours and endless activities, being stuck inside for the last couple days hasn't been so bad. Forced to face the daunting task of dual papers due at the end of the month (eek!), that technically need to be done within the week (I have a visitor coming!), this much needed outlet from the academic gauntlet is just the medicine to reactivate my creative writing juices.

Stay tuned! We are expecting rain for the rest of the week and glued to my Mac I will surely be craving frequent breaks to fill you in on the winter months of my first year in Argentina. xo

The Dance, Dance, Dance, Addiction

With all the negative connotations, just reading the word conjures up images of sex, drugs and gambling. But not just your once in a while, celebration, first time for everything kind of sex, drugs and gambling. The dangerous, life consuming dependency on a particular illegal substance or prohibited activity kind. Or maybe Robert Palmer's track plays over and over in your head: "You might as well face it, you're addicted to love!" But just because it's an addiction doesn't mean it's life threatening, right?

Personally, I have a few obsessions and I'd like to think they are on the less noxious side of the addiction continuum. For example: peanut butter, warm baked cookies (or the fresh oatmeal peanut butter cookies I'm baking right now) chocolate, running, sunshine, nailpolish, shoe shopping, fancy leggings (an example to your left) and ice cream.* But the whole purpose of this post is to introduce you to my most recent addictive discovery: A full-on LOVE ADDICTION for electronic music. Sure, I've always been excited by tunes that make me want to shake it on the dance floor, but seriously, this is becoming an obsession.

It started in November of last year with Creamfields: 60,000 people, 6 stages, loads of djs, and over 12 hours of dancing. Followed by several months of small scale events, then we took it to a whole other level by flying to the nearest festival. Lollapalooza, Santiago, Chile in March was by far the best experience to date: 80,000 people, 2 full days of non-stop djs like Pretty Lights, Skrillex, Bassnectar, Calvin Harris, and Tinnie Tempah to name a few of the faves. The most recent conquest? Ultra Music Festival, walking distance from our apartment, May 5th, 2012. Touted as the largest electronic festival in the world with origins in Miami, UMF made it's first appearance in Buenos Aires last weekend. Even before announcing the date, I knew I'd be there. And I didn't regret it. A 12 hour dancing repeat, listening to some of the crispest beats I'd heard in an open air venue, spending the night with some of my favorite people in the city and making new friends along the way. Sure I was tired, yes my legs hurt and the next day I felt like I'd run a marathon, but ask me if I'd do it all over again every single weekend, and if I'm already planning for Creamfields November 10th, AND stalking djs websites in search of events in the meantime. The answer would be... Absolutely! Does that count as an addiction?


For the record, my favorite part of the entire event: Rocking one of Dad's authentic 80's concert t-shirts. True to family tradition, living it up on the big stage of life.

*Does my running addiction counteract my junk food addiction, canceling the latter out?

¡Auto No, Bici Si!

Masa Critica: Critical Mass
First Sunday every month, 4pm, Obelisco

Masa Nocturna: Night Mass
Every full moon, 9pm, Obelisco

Don't forget your bike!

Simply put: Thousands of people riding bicycles through the streets of Buenos Aires. Yes, we stop traffic. Yes, it's intentional. No, we wont move no matter how loud you honk and scream! That's right, I'm back to the blog, fresh off my first Masa Critica. The only question is why on earth did it take me 8 months to ride in one of these events. Exactly 8 months to be precise. Sunday, May 6th marked the day. Even though I didn't realize I had been here that long until well, now actually, it seems as though my anniversary was very well spent.

A show of pure celebration and support for the metropolitan cycling community, the first Sunday of each month, thousands of people gather in the center of Buenos Aires to 'go for a ride'. We made it all the way down to some neighborhoods I'd never previously entered and topped off the night with a complete block of traffic to the freeway. Imagine, you're in bumper to bumper traffic and you glance to your left only to see 4 lanes full of bicycles. Not a single car in sight. Never thought I'd have the chance to do something so original! There are no organizers, nobody knows where we will ride, no pre-marked streets, auto traffic is unaware of the route, but everybody shares a passion for riding. To prove our presence in the city, Masa Critica is a way for cyclists to get noticed in the streets: strength in numbers! Because cycling is a very new culture in BsAs, the bicisendas (bike paths) are just under 2 years old, there are still many people who don't respect rider's rights in the streets and forget that one cycle = un auto menos. One less car! And the way that traffic gets stopped up around rush hour, I promise, a bike is absolutely your best and fastest option. There was even an article in La Nacion this last week with a study showing that a bici commuter makes it home in half the time compared to the public bus. The bici is worth it, every time!








P.S.
Thanks to some very nice gentlemen at Biking Buenos Aires, I am now whizzing through the city on a shiny red cruiser! And don't worry, as we all should be so diligent... I never sit in the saddle without my pearly white helmet.

First Stop: Galway

With Christmas day activities behind us, Oige and I jumped into the car for a cross country road trip to Ireland's west coast. Four previous trips and I had yet to see anything north of the Ring of Kerry, including Galway and Connemara National Park. Because holidays last much longer here than in the US, our choice to travel on St. Stephen's Day (the day following Christmas) was the perfect time: No traffic! With extremely narrow roads, limited speed enforcement, and the occasional farm animal crossing, the fewer cars the better. Our first pitstop in Athlone also happened to be Oige's old football stomping grounds while playing for the Athlone Town FC. We passed a closed Brett's Pharmacy, crossed over the River Suck, and stopped next to the water for a quick picnic of turkey sandwiches, Tayto, tea, and Dairy Milk chocolate.

Back in the car, a short drive and we were soon in Galway. Straight to the hotel, which was closed with a sign on the door saying be back at 4pm on Dec. 26th... Strange, so we went into town instead. Living up to the expectations, I was impressed with the beautiful pedestrian streets weaving through the city center decorated with wreaths, lights, and Christmas trees. Luckily we avoided rain, but it was even colder than Dublin had been so we stopped into the pub for a coffee, hot chocolate, and one berry crumble to share. Noticing that not a single hotel, B&B, or guesthouse was open we hoped that the rest of our 4 day trip wouldn't be too difficult as we hadn't booked any lodging before hand.

A short exploration of the Occupy Galway camp was my first personal encounter with an 'Occupy' demonstration. Complete with tents, porta-potties, a kitchen, and surrounded by a pallet fence, this was the full package. Considering the tremendous negative impact of the economic crisis on Ireland's youth, I was actually surprised that the camp wasn't larger. Four o'clock finally rolled around and we arrived to a fully operating hotel. Back into town for a delicious Thai meal at Tamarind and a full night's sleep ahead of another adventure filled car ride tomorrow!