Inspirosity

Preserving Lemons

2010-08-09T16:38:00.007-03:00

It’s winter and the markets are citrus full. I’ve been wanting to preserve lemons for a while now and I finally did.

I took the best looking lemons of the bunch I bought at the market on Saturday. Washed them and rubbed off any blemishes. Then I cut off the ends or stems and cut down about 3/4 of the way in a cross to quarter them but leave the base intact.

I put about a tablespoon of Kosher salt in the bottom of a jar and then poured salt inside the quartered lemons. Then I shoved, and I mean shoved, the lemons in the jar so that the salt would mix with the lemon juice. Once the jar was full, I squeezed a few lemons to fill the jar with juice and sprinkled some more Kosher salt on the top.

Supposedly in three weeks I’ll have preserved lemons and we can try some Moroccan dishes. Fingers crossed.

Obama Makes My Face Light Up

2008-11-02T00:37:00.003-02:00

When my Argentinean friends ask me how McCain could have chosen Palin as his running mate, I usually have to get into the discussion of America's culture war. It's a topic that always gets me worked up, so I try to summarize for them:

Half of the country is proud of our diversity and half is threatened by it. Half believes that people who don't have a job need a hand to get back on track, and half thinks they're slackers. Half believes in science, and half mocks science.

Then I explain that Obama represents the first half, McCain is somewhere in the middle, and Palin represents the second half. Poor Biden, no one seems to ask about him.

But whenever I talk about Obama, my friends notice that my face lights up. Since Argentines are inherently skeptical of government, they think I'm naive (and they may be right). Explaining my excitement over Obama is way more difficult than explaining the culture wars.

"It's what Obama represents," I tell them. "He's half black, half white, well educated, articulate, rational. He makes me feel good about my country again."

They inevitably bring up Clinton. "Besides the race issue," they ask, "isn't Obama pretty much like Clinton?"

And politically, they're right. He is a lot like Clinton. And while I liked Clinton, my face didn't light up when I spoke about him. "It could just be that the past eight years were so bad that any sign of hope makes one half of the country feel elated," a friend suggested.

"Maybe." I left it at that not sure how I could explain what it is really about to me.

But today I read Roger Cohen's op-ed in the New York Times, American Stories. And now, I'm ready to go out with my friends tonight and give them my answer to the question.

There are many of cultural divides in the US, but the big ones have been over race, religion, and region. White vs. black, Christians vs. secularists, Northerners vs. Southerners. And over the past eight years, us vs. them has reached catastrophic levels and it has been fueled by our leaders. To me, Obama represents the opportunity for Americans to be one people. His speeches inspire us to see past these divides. It's in part due to the fact that he doesn't attack his opponents on cultural issues, he rises above that, and, in so doing, sets an example for everyone. That's the hope that I see in Obama.

And I hope that if this is the change Obama brings to the States, it might spread. And that, I believe, would bring more security and prosperity to the entire world.

Worst Ad Ever

2008-10-31T01:33:00.003-02:00

That's what they are calling Liddy Dole's ad which accuses her opponent of, in essence, being an atheist. The final line pretends to be Kay Hagan's voice saying, "There is no god." Hagan strikes back, "I've taught Sunday school."

A part of me wonders why this is considered to be the "worst" ad ever. I mean, oooooo... they called you an atheist. Get out the guns. Prove you aren't. After all, anyone who's taught Sunday school must be pro-America.

So, as Michelle Bachman made clear, elitists (i.e. those who read and speak in complete sentences) are anti-American. And now, Liddy Dole (and Kay Hagan with her response to Dole) make the case for atheist=bad person. Ah yes, you're an atheist, must mean you're a terrorist. You're the devil. Bet you hang out with that Ayres guy.

I get it. Anyone who wants to run for office in the States must end every speech with "God Bless America." I get it. Americans love their god more than their constitution. But since these people are not elitists, they probably have not read the constitution or history. To them it reads, we guarantee the "right to religion," and down low at the bottom in 6 pt. font below the signatures it says, "but if you don't believe in God, you're outta here."

The media should not be calling this the worst ad in this political cycle. The ad linked Hagan to a group of secularists that want religion to be a private matter. They want government officials who wonder "is this it? Don't we need to make life here on Earth the best it can be because there may not be a heaven?" They want "In God We Trust" taken off dollars because we should trust in ourselves. And hey, let's face it... if there is a god, don't you think that would be the big plan anyway?

I put you here, gave you these resources, this amazing planet, a whole bunch of other people to share it with....it's your turn to do something?

Something like, take care of this planet I gave you and take care of these other people you share it with.

Ah... I must be a socialist, communist, atheist, anti-American, elitist. How could I even think such a thing?

Keating Five and Today's Crisis

2008-10-06T23:43:00.002-03:00

Sick.

Debates and Bingo

2008-10-02T16:18:00.004-03:00

I'm sort of bummed to not be in Buenos Aires for tonight's debate between Biden and Palin. Last week the turnout in BA was amazing, so this one ought to really impress.

If I were there, I'd print out these Bingo cards and bring enough for at least the 300 people who showed up for last week's debate.

Small Town Values and Other Rovian Tactics

2008-09-12T21:30:00.006-03:00

I've been in Los Angeles for a while now and got to see the Republican National Convention coverage and the aftermath of the Sarah Palin pick. And this is exactly why I don't watch TV. Talk about make you stupid. When I'm in Argentina, it's easy to not really know what issues are being talked about here in the States or if they are talking about issues at all.

One non-issue the RNC slammed down our throats at the convention was the small town values vs. the elitist cosmopolitan values of those who actually read books and have opinions (informed opinions) on the issues. Here's the Daily Show's take on small town values. You gotta love Jon Stewart and his gang.

Tell you what, these people don't do small towns any favors. Sounds like they're talking about the kinds of places where everyone knows everyone, ergo everyone knows everyone's business.

Throwing the hockey mom down our throats may not have been Karl Rove's idea, but the GOP has been paying attention during the last two elections. They know what it takes to win. Employing Rovian tactics--i.e. figure out what your competition will accuse you of and accuse them of it first--has worked before. Sure, it's not something to be proud of, but this is politics.

Which is why I'm so shocked when Republicans claim that McCain and Palin would bring about change or that they would clean up Washington. What? They're playing the exact same game as always. McCain's pick of Palin was political, it wasn't about choosing the best person to take over should something happen to him.

At the end of the day, any educated voter who chooses the Republicans does so either because they're rich and want to pay fewer taxes or because they think flexing your muscles shows your enemies that you are a force to be reckoned with. If it's because they're rich, I don't have an argument for them. They will probably pay fewer taxes with a GOP president. But if it's because they think the Republicans are the ones willing to do what it takes to keep America safe, they couldn't be more wrong.

I've heard the "the end justifies the means" argument regarding our occupation of Iraq and our use of torture. It's the equivalent of selling your soul to the devil and then being surprised when you find yourself in hell. You'd think that the 7th anniversary of 9/11 would have brought out the issue of how we deal with threats to our security. Instead, the talk was about whether Obama called Palin a pig and the nasty mudslinging that this election has brought about.

Guess we'll have to wait for Jon Stewart to steer us back towards the issues again by making a mockery of the talking points. If nothing more, the Daily Show will give us a good laugh, something I think most educated voters are in dire need of.

A Glare, a Baggie, and a Showdown

2008-07-14T10:51:00.005-03:00

The Argentina Post has a suggestion for Buenos Aires' dog poop problem: scoop dispensers located throughout the city. The post is really great, the suggestion is just ok. But somewhere along the way these rude dog-owners or overburdened dogwalkers need to be taught how to be more considerate. Let's face it, there are trashcans all over the city and I've seen plenty of mothers watch their kids drop candy wrappers on the street and not say a word. Being courteous is something we're taught, it doesn't come naturally.

I've been here for a year and a half now. My first date in BA was ruined by dog poop. I've learned since then. There will be no making eye contact with your date while walking. I can't walk around looking at the architecture or the trees or the shop windows. Oh no, my eyes are on the pavement lest I step in a pile of runny feces.

On one part of my block, a disgusting tower of a building is in the final stages of construction. For the past two weeks, they've redone the sidewalk in front. But since no one actually lives there yet, it's also the favorite spot for dog owners to chat on their cell phones while their pet defiles the pretty new sidewalk, the wall, the trees.

Last Saturday, I'd had it. This woman was chatting away, leaning on a car and watching her dog walk two steps and poop, walk two steps and poop, walk two more and poop. I stopped dead in my tracks and gave her a glare. When she finally looked my way, I looked at her dog and glared at her again. She ignored me.

I happened to have a plastic bag in my purse, so I pulled it out and handed it to her. She didn't pick up the trail of turds, just called to her dog and walked away. If I had been more courageous I would have followed her and told her again to pick up her dog's mess. This woman probably threw paper on the sidewalk too and no one has ever told her that the trashcans are for trash. She hasn't been taught.

So this is a call to action. Keep a couple of plastic bags with you and hand them out to dog poop offenders. Glare at them, hand them the bag, and don't back down. If it calls for a showdown, stand your ground. Look, Paris had this problem and the French learned to walk around with baggies of poop. New Yorkers learned too. I'm not going to give up on porteños yet.

Reaching Broader Audiences

2008-06-29T21:18:00.005-03:00

I've followed Howard Zinn's writing for years. His book "A People's History of the United States," is a comic book illustration of American history meant to reach an audience that is outside of the establishment. I love the idea.

When I taught composition, I always wanted to have students create video essays. I believed that this generation is more impacted by images than words, and that the combination of images and words is an incredibly powerful medium. The challenge would have been to maintain the same standard for sources and arguments required in an academic essay (i.e citations, credible sources, well-balanced arguments, etc.). My bosses never liked the idea. I wish I could have shown them this video, "Empire or Humanity? What the Classroom Didn't Teach Me about the American Empire," based on an essay Zinn wrote for TomDispatch and narrated by Viggo Mortenson.

Will it reach a broader audience? It's been viewed almost 80,000 times and I bet a large number of those 80,000 people don't have a copy of the book. Plus, there are roughly 340 comments on YouTube. Some of them are worthless, but others resemble the types of discussions I tried to get my students to engage in. For example:

"How does one spread humanity? The problems that he identifies are real, but his solutions are too vague?"

Maybe it's all wishful thinking, but the video does prove that a message that combines words with images can be as powerful as a book (if not more powerful). What do you guys think?

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

2008-06-25T15:17:00.006-03:00

Back in November, I bought an apartment with some friends here. It was a big move for me since I've pretty much lived from paycheck to paycheck my entire adult life. I was worried that if I didn't invest my savings, I'd spend everything, but I didn't have enough to buy my own place. Then I lost both of my jobs.

Panic!

So, I went on vacation, took a lot of pictures, and started writing some fiction.

I was writing this blog(albeit infrequently) and the one for our loft, editing the thousands of photos I'd taken in California, and meeting weekly with a writing group. I felt like I was spending all my time at the computer. Not much of a life. So, I deleted my Facebook account and stopped writing Inspirosity (unable to actually give up on this blog, just holding off on it for a while). With no Facebook to distract me, I've finished two stories and learned all sorts of neat Photoshop tricks.

Our loft is constantly booked and a few neighbors are asking us to manage renting out their lofts. We're considering expanding our site to add personalized tours and other services for tourists. So, now I'm learning about website design and management.

When I lost my jobs, people kept asking me if I was doing alright and I'd answer, "yea, I know it will all work out. It always does." But I wasn't sure I believed myself. Lo and behold, it is all working out.

The best part is that without a job, I've been able to hang out with the people that rent our loft and I've joined a really cool social networking site for travelers and hosted a few people in my apartment. Meeting other people who love to travel, to experience new places, to learn new things, is what makes life so great.

Since I'm inspired again, guess I'm back.

No Fair Winds in Buenos Aires

2008-04-18T22:29:00.005-03:00

Close your windows and stay indoors. Buenos Aires is under a black cloud of smoke brought in from the burning grass fields north of the city. The smoke is heading towards Uruguay and without any rain and little wind, it looks like we're going to have burning eyes and scratchy throats for the days to come.

Airports, ports, bus terminals and highways have been closed. Firefighters are having trouble breaking through the cloud of smoke by helicopter or airplane to put the fires out that have spread over thousands of hectares. Once again the government and farmers are in disagreement as the government accuses farmers of illegally starting the fires to prepare their fields for grazing.

The smoke today reminded me of Cairo. The picture above is of the view from my window on a clear day and on a smoggy day. We used to say that it didn't make much sense to quit smoking when you live in Cairo because you basically inhale the equivalent of a pack of cigarettes a day. I know it doesn't make much sense. But it also didn't make sense that in October every year the farmers set fire to clear fields when Cairo is already one of the most polluted cities in the world.

These pictures are of the polo field here in Buenos Aires taken last week and today. October in Cairo, April in Buenos Aires. Either take up smoking or get a surgeon's mask.

Eternally Polished

2008-04-12T02:35:00.011-03:00

I loved dolls when I was a child. I loved dressing them up and fixing their hair. I’d wash it, dry it, braid it, cut it, you name it. Using the hairdryer wasn’t a great idea. The plastic locks got scorched and after the haircuts I’d given them, my dolls typically looked like they’d gotten stuck in a paper shredder.

Young girls today don’t have to learn about hairstyles the hard way. American Girl Place, a shop in Los Angeles, has a hair salon for the dolls, a hospital to repair a doll after say a bad haircut or an amputated limb, a cafe where moms and daughters can dress up and have tea, and enough clothes and furniture for the dolls to fill one of those old Sears catalogs from the 70s.

This grooming obsessed culture is not just hard on young girls. Trying to stay real in such a narcissistic world can be rough for all of us. I live among the world’s most cut upon and waxed bodies. In my neighborhood for instance, let’s just take the four blocks immediately next to mine, there are four tanning salons, ten hair salons, and five salons that specialize in waxing alone.

Health insurance policies for the wealthy in Buenos Aires include one free plastic surgery per year. It’s hard to know what’s real and what isn’t. Foreign tourists take advantage of the highly skilled, low-cost sculpting the city offers. You can get your surgery done the first week and then take in a cruise through Antarctica to complete your recovery before going back home with a tighter face, bigger boobs, a higher butt, or smaller labia.

For those weary of the knife yet still desiring a new look, one guidebook’s list of 25 things to do in Buenos Aires lists "A Brazilian" as number 12. I thought they meant sex with a Brazilian, which seemed an odd recommendation. Then I remembered having read about Brazilian waxes being a lot cheaper here in Buenos Aires.

At first the obsession with polished, fuzz free skin and Baywatch bodies reminded me of Isaac Asimov’s book The End of Eternity in which one of the characters had no body hair because he came from a time when beauty was defined by one’s lack of hair. Could Asimov have known back in 1954 that some lunatic mothers in the States would be taking their 8-year-old daughters for their first Brazilian? (I really am grateful we’re talking about wax.)

Plastic as Buenos Aires is (Argentina ranks third in the world, after the US and Mexico, for number of cosmetic surgeries), I haven’t heard of mothers taking their prepubescent daughters to remove the one or two pubic hairs they might have. I don’t see 13-year-olds in hair salons exposing themselves to dangerous chemicals for a few streaks of blond or red. And graduation presents tend more towards a watch or nice piece of jewelry than new boobs.

Grooming rituals will probably always change, but I hope some of the "back to nature" movements that are changing the way we eat will have an influence on the way we see ourselves. In the meantime, check out one of the best articles about attitudes towards the body I've ever read, Horace Miner's "Body Ritual among the Nacirema."

Meatless in Buenos Aires

2008-03-27T01:10:00.005-03:00

The two-week strike keeps going. Farmers, protesting massive taxes (41% for soybeans), have barricaded roads and stopped shipments of beef, dairy products, and other grains. The beef aisles in the supermarkets have been shut down and covered with tarps. Butcher shops are empty. Chicken prices have skyrocketed. We're all eating pizza and we may soon have no cheese for our pizza.

Yesterday a protest in Plaza de Mayo turned ugly. I asked a taxi driver and a friend of mine their opinion of the protest. Both said the government sent in their bankrolled protesters to beat up the others. The called it a mafia and voiced concerns that Argentine President Cristina Fernandez won't be able to handle the crisis. Neither wanted to think of what that would mean to the country.

According to the taxi driver and my friend, the problem isn't only that the taxes are too high. Argentina is one of the few places where the dollar is still strong. They claim that farmers and the government are enjoying the weak peso as exports grow. But the farmers aren't seeing much return. What's worse, the taxes, which the government claims are meant to disperse the money to sectors more in need, are not going back to those sectors. Corruption.

I used to think that the word corruption was overused here as if it were thrown around to explain all of the country's problems. Now I realize I have no idea what I'm talking about. Would the government actually send in paid protesters to beat up the legitimate protesters? Do they think people will believe that the farmers aren't in agreement and some farmers would beat up the others?

Regular citizens showed they too sided with the farmers by honking their horns ALL NIGHT LONG. More horns honked than when River or Boca when a match. The strike can't go on much longer, but I have no idea which side will retreat. One thing is certain, yesterday I had the worst empanada I've had since I got here. Don't eat meat until this is over.

Symbolic and More: Obama '08

2008-03-13T15:45:00.005-02:00

Back in December Andrew Sullivan wrote an article in the Atlantic Monthly, "Goodbye to All That: Why Obama Matters." I don't always agree with Sullivan, after all, he did endorse G.W. in 2000. But his December article made the point that an Obama presidency would symbolize a turn in American politics that would help us restore our damaged image. I couldn't agree more.

But symbolism is not reason enough to vote for Obama. There's much more substance to the man and his campaign than mere hope and symbolism. Change is a big part of it and something I think Clinton does not promise. Lawrence Lessig's 20-minute video (embedded here below) on why he supports Barack Obama puts it better than I ever could. Enjoy!

Two Weeks in LaLaLand

2008-03-08T23:40:00.016-02:00

I'm back from two weeks in California, a blue state. I was there during the Oscars when LA became a ghost town. No traffic, no need to make reservations, no lines anywhere, save, I suppose, in front of the Kodak theater. Back in 2003 there was talk of whether or not they should hold the Oscars. After all, we were a country at war.

Once again the Oscars almost didn't happen. But not because of our ongoing war: the writer's strike nearly brought down the annual celebration of overpaid stars, mediocre scripts, and ego hasta la luna.

This year's Oscars were considered a flop. Fewer people attended, fewer viewers tuned in, and, oh no, for the first time ever all four major Oscars for acting went to foreigners. A true tragedy.

No activist actors boycotted to send a message to the presidential candidates that it's high time the war become the subject of debate in this campaign. Well, that's not totally fair. McCan't is all about war, and fear, and no tax increases, and riding the wave to oblivion. Our troops will stay there but we won't call it war.

So why not? Why was there no talk of whether or not it would be in bad taste to hold a party celebrating our cinematic triumphs when our soldiers and Iraqis continue to die (more than 1.3 million so far have died according to the Oxford Research Bureau)? Why isn't the war the main issue in this campaign?

It's the economy. LA's economy was hurt by the writer's strikes. People were out of work. Studios couldn't produce. The films that were already being produced were nearing completion. Ending the strike before the Oscars said "We're back in business." The US economy is also hurting. And since there really is no cheap or clear solution for ending our occupation of Iraq and rebuilding the nation we wrecked, the candidates are ignoring the fact that the majority of Americans do not support the war. We can't afford to fix it so we'll stay indefinitely, or at least for the moment.

I've often thought that California would be the one place I could live in the States if I were to return. It's the nexus of change. I did meet people who get it. And certainly more than I would find in other parts of the country. But I was astounded at how many Democrats with Republican talking points I met. The blue state, save New York, maybe. The people who gave Gore an Oscar last year, the people who push for cleaner fuels, who eat organic, who teach the difference between religiosity and spirituality, who probably started the worldwide anti-smoking movement, were largely missing in action.

Fear of Knowledge

2008-02-16T03:46:00.007-02:00

The New York Times published a review of a new book called "The Age of American Unreason," by Susan Jacoby. She decided to write the book on 9/11 back in 2001 when she overheard a conversation comparing the attacks to Pearl Harbor. "What's Pearl Harbor?" asked one of the guys. The other explained that it was "when the Vietnamese dropped bombs in a harbor, and it started the Vietnam War." Yep, overhearing that conversation could drive any informed citizen downright mad.

What is the deal with the anti-intellectual trend in the States? There's hope though. Check out the video below to hear a young guy who has informed opinions and expresses them well. He even looks cool.

McCan't See the Forest for the Trees

2008-02-12T16:41:00.002-02:00

Had a brief debate with a friend who supports McCain. My friend explained that he and I see eye to eye on most issues, but that there's one big difference.

The issue we see differently is the “terrorist threat” posed by Muslim fundamentalists (fundies, I call them, whether Christian or Muslim). He thinks the fundies are a major threat. I won’t argue with that (not because I agree, but because I know there is no point arguing on that subject).

So if the terrorist threat is the main issue for him, then he must be supporting McCain because of his stand on Iraq and Iran. I pointed out that the war in Iraq had nothing to do with terrorism. He agreed that it didn’t at the beginning, but said that in his opinion it does now. So I asked if he thought that invading and occupying another country and maintaining a losing war in that country created more terrorists (whatever their religion may be). Destroying your image around the world and acting like self-righteous mavericks can’t help the “War on Terror” if such a war even really exists, can it?

A lot of people think my view of reality is tainted by having lived in the Middle East for a spell and because I haven't lived in the States much for the past 15 years. They tell me I am misinformed and cannot see the forest for the trees. Odd that having actually lived in the Middle East for three years would qualify me as “uninformed.”

Of course, the way I see it, it’s the Republicans who can’t see the forest for the trees. It’s anyone who believes this war was about anything other than oil and money who are blind. And it’s those who think that starting another war would make us more secure.

So to me, McCain will forever be McCan’t. And considering I support the “Yes, We Can” candidate. I think it hits the nail on the head. Go Obama!

Breaking the silence... well, sort of

2008-02-07T19:29:00.001-02:00

I’m breaking my silence. I haven’t written in a while because the only subject that inspires me now is politics, and some years ago I decided not to talk about politics. It was a practical decision. I made everyone mad when I talked about politics and I need friends.

People who know me might think I haven’t really sworn off the subject of politics. I do join in on occasion. But I never really say what I honestly think. Or better, I throw out some simple statements to get a feel for the climate and take it from there. The exception is with those friends who see things the way I do. Then the real me comes out.

When I’m not thinking about the elections in the States, I am typically writing lessons about communication. How’s that for irony? My lessons are for business people around the world learning English and the goals are very different.

In these business communication lessons I teach people to analyze their audience, to pace (that is, to match the audience’s expectations in terms of delivery speed, word choice, nonverbal communication, etc.), to use positive emphasis (point out the good side), and to reserve emotions.

I may have been teaching this so long that I’ve become a business communicator all the time. When there is conflict, I know I need to listen carefully and reserve judgment. I’m aware that my view is not everyone else’s view and that people rarely hear a message the same way the sender intended it to be heard. I teach that as we listen, we delete the information that doesn’t match our own views and then distort the rest of the information so that it does.

So I think I’ve become a walking business communication puppet. And it’s driving me absolutely nuts.

Boutique Hotels in Baires

2008-01-15T11:38:00.000-02:00

In a group of photos from Buenos Aires on Flickr some people have been asking about places to stay in Buenos Aires. There are tons of apartments for rent throughout the city. Head over to Craigslist Buenos Aires for some listings or YesBA for a more local audience.

The list below is one I put together for my aunt and uncle who are coming in March. They're traveling with friends who wanted a unique hotel and weren't too worried about the price. With that audience in mind, this list is organized by neighborhood (barrio) and the hotels were chosen for charm regardless of price.

Recoleta
Recoleta is one of the ritziest barrios of Buenos Aires. The buildings here are why Buenos Aires is called the Other Paris. There are beautiful outdoor cafes and shops (all the really fancy ones). It's close to the major tourist sights and the famous cemetery called Recoleta.

Alvear - This one is pricey but absolutely gorgeous. This street is like the St. Honore in Paris. All the really expensive shops are here.

Park Hyatt - Pricey but well worth it. Hands-down the most impressive in the area (even though some would say the Four Seasons is nicer). The service, the decor, the restaurants, bars, shopping, art gallery, everything is out of this world.

Design Suites - Less pricey. Very minimalistic design. Just down the road from the Alvear.

Art Hotel - Great area. Lots of wonderful streets to discover.

Retiro
This is the aristocrat neighborhood. It's also well located for seeing the major sights. I don't find this neighborhood to be as comfortable as Recoleta or Palermo. It's a little too close to downtown for me. Hustle and bustle without as much charm as the other areas.

Four Seasons - Called La Mansion, this hotel is also stunning.

Sofitel - Stunning as the Sofitel should be.

Palermo (Soho or Viejo)
Palermo is the trendy area of Buenos Aires. It's where all the new designers have shops, lots of great restaurants are here, the streets are less crowded and lined with trees. It feels more Buenos Aires to me than the first two barrios. The buildings are smaller (two or three stories usually). They aren't as elegant as Recoleta, but they are charming and lovely. The actual area called Palermo is huge. The hotels listed here are mostly in Palermo Soho.

Malabia House - This one looks amazing. Quiet and small with great style. Beautiful garden area.

Costa Petit Hotel - Looks just like I'd expect a boutique hotel to look and has a great location.

Home Buenos Aires - This one is pretty nice too. I love the decor... it feels very Buenos Aires.

Baucis Hotel - Artsy and unique.

Esplendor Hotel - Great location. The decor is too masculine for me. I like the gardens of Malabia and the dreamy feel of the place better.

Base Buenos Aires - There are apartments here, but that doesn't mean someone has to cook.

San Telmo
This barrio is older than the others. It was once where the aristocrats lived (the workers were in the barrio closer to the port called La Boca). Yellow fever made the aristocrats flee to Recoleta and Retiro. The houses here look more Italian. They are usually 2 or 3 stories high, have interior patios and lovely balconies, and are painted in warm earth tones. Many of them need some work, but the area has seen a lot of tourism lately (especially for tango and especially European tourists). There is a gorgeous indoor market that really makes you feel like you are in Sicily. San Telmo is not as safe as Recoleta and Palermo, but Buenos Aires is as safe as any other city of its size. San Telmo is also a bit farther away from the rest of the city and harder to get to and from. It's my favorite area because it's so artistic and alive. But it's for younger travelers who aren't here for fine dining and elegant surroundings.

Ribera Sur Hotel - Brand new hotel well-located for taking public transportation or taxis. It's a modern hotel with a great restaurant.

Gurda Hotel - A tango-dedicated hotel. Seems a little too casual for travelers looking for luxury, but it's unique.

Once a Soldier of Independence, Always a .....

2008-01-14T17:02:00.001-02:00

A few weeks ago I found a starving, filthy cat on my way to the bank. People had laid out food, but all he seemed to want was attention. I watched him for about 30 minutes then took him to the vet. She implied she wouldn't help him unless I promised to keep him. I like cats; I just don't like the responsibility.

I don't like litter boxes. I don't like cat hair on my cool black clothes. I don't like having to find a catsitter when I go out of town. Plus, a friend was coming for New Year's and he might not like cats. No excuse worked. Indie (named after the street on which I found him, Soldado de la Independencia or Soldier of Independence) and I were roommates now.

Indie's a skinny fellow. He was covered in charcoal. His nails were shaved down to nothing. His ears were black and bald. But from the moment I picked him up, he snuggled, purred, and looked into my eyes with that adorable stare. My heart was taken. But being in a relationship means taking the good with the bad.

The thing is, like most men who haven't been fixed, he doesn't really care who loves him so long as he's the center of attention. Truly nondiscriminatory, Indie flirts with everyone--men, women, birds, horses. So when my friend arrived, Indie welcomed him and they too became friends.

But then Indie realized he'd lost his place in the bed and my attention was now divided. He stopped eating and stopped drinking water. He even gave me ringworm (on the back of my neck, on my cheek, and on one arm). Was he sabotaging my plans for a romantic start to 2008?

Stubborn. He's so stubborn we spent the first day of the year in the hospital as Indie got an I.V. and really expensive food no cat would refuse. He ended up hospitalized for three days. But he gained a whole kilo while there and I got the start to 2008 I wanted.

Now that it's just the two of us again, Indie seems a little sad. I think he liked the competition. This morning, as if to tell me he can leave whenever he wants, he jumped up on the balcony table. I came out with some food and he said...

Huff and Puff

2008-01-08T15:28:00.000-02:00

Here's a great paragraph from Ariana Huffington's latest post on Hillary's strategy for criticizing Obama. Number five on the list of attacks against Obama is that he is a dreamer. To that, Ariana writes:

Oh, yeah, that's the last thing we need, someone who actually seeks to inspire Americans to allow their reach to exceed their grasp. That's the problem with leaders like Lincoln, Kennedy, and Martin Luther King -- they just weren't realistic enough. King shouldn't have said, "I have a dream!," he should have said, "I have a realistic view of what we should settle for! We probably won't be able to pass the Civil Rights Act, but we might be able to pass a bill condemning segregated water fountains. You probably won't be able to sit at the front of the bus, but I might be able to get you to the middle."

Way to put things into perspective. While I'd vote for Hillary if she got the nomination, I wouldn't be excited about voting for her. Let's hope the Democrats find their courage and give us a candidate who can inspire.

Santa Down South

2007-12-20T15:03:00.000-03:00

Christmas decorations here look just like those back home even though it's summer. But even more surprising is the fact that poor Santa has to wear his North Pole getup when everyone else is in a tank top and shorts. Here's a picture of Santa taken last year. Looks like he was delivering presents on his motorcycle. The sleigh doesn't work so well in summer I guess.

So how do Argentines celebrate the holidays? Pretty much the same way we do, eating and hanging out with the family. The only difference I noticed last year was that on the 24th at lunch time (which is around 2:00, not noon and never 11:00 am) restaurants were full. Then it seems people head back home to prepare for dinner and wait for midnight when the presents are opened.

They wear red on the 24th and could stay awake playing games, drinking wine, listening to music and enjoying each other's company until sunrise. As is usual here in Buenos Aires, dinner is served around 10:00 pm and lasts a few hours. The 25th is naturally more relaxed seeing as the night before was the real celebration.

Spirit Lifting Jacarandas

2007-12-04T15:36:00.001-03:00

It really is the best time of year to be in Buenos Aires. I got here about a year ago and have been bragging about the jacarandas in spring ever since. How nice to be in a city where the seasons are so concrete. This first picture was taken in my neighborhood, Las Cañitas.

I was reading a fellow blogger's posts the other day and found out that LA has a pretty mean jacaranda season too. Check her photo out on Tango Cherie.

This picture was taken outside of the international post office where I went to pick up a box of books I sent myself. The mail service works. This was a big move for me. Sending my stuff from back home might mean I´m staying put for a while.

Buses with Wings

2007-11-28T02:10:00.000-03:00

On my last flight back home I was having a hard time sleeping. Then the kid in the row next to mine shot out projectile vomit covering the seats in front of him and the aisle. That poor kid. That poor mother. The mother spent the next half hour on the floor with paper towels trying to mop up the regurgitated airplane cuisine. Not one flight attendant offered a hand or even a trash can or more paper towels. The woman's husband didn't offer to help either, but that's another topic.

Watching that mother on her hands and knees as the flight attendants stepped over her made me consider getting up to help. But then, the stench of vomit was already so strong (and it lasted the remainder of the flight) that I knew if I got any closer I'd be no help. I guess only a mother can clean up vomit without puking her own guts up.

Once the chunks were cleaned up, she placed paper towels over the spot. Passengers would get a running start to clear the mess. Half the time, the had to hold on to the backs of our seats to keep themselves airborne.

Then came the flight attendant with a can of smelly stuff to hide the stench. So we spent the rest of the flight smelling chemical vomit and getting rocked back and forth by those whose long jump wasn't quite long enough. Wouldn't you think they'd have a system for cleaning up puke? After all, they have puke bags. Ah, but not this poor kid. Just as he was getting sick his mother searched the pocket for the bag. With no bag in sight, out it came and shrieks from those sitting in the row in front followed.

There's an article in today's New York Times about the class conflict on airlines. You know the drill. All the special people board first and are being served cocktails as you walk through the first- and business-class cabins. They look relaxed as if they may even be given a massage during the flight. You pass them, feeling a bit insignificant and make your way to your seat only to find it's been assigned to someone else. You're gripped by fear because you know the airline won't think twice about bumping you to the next flight. You're in coach.

It's not that those who pay big bucks don't deserve edible food and wine that won't cause a headache. But must they flaunt their privilege as we are herded back to our minuscule seats? Flights today are more like bus rides. Crappy movies with malfunctioning audio, overpriced stale snacks, and bathrooms that make you dream of an outdoor music festival's port-o-potty.

When I first started traveling overseas, I remember being given a beautiful menu with three courses listed and a selection of beverages presented as if I were dining along the Seine. I used to look forward to a transatlantic flight. I got to sit back, watch a good movie, spend hours reading my book, head to the back to hang out with the other passengers and talk about our travels, meet the flight attendants and fantasize about their adventures.

I bet back then the flight attendants knew how to handle a puddle of vomit without a can of spray. And I bet the kid would have had a puke bag.

Treat your Tastebuds in Mendoza

2007-11-24T01:40:00.000-03:00

Here are some amazing dining options in Mendoza.

Bistro La Tupiña in the Altus Bodega – This is my favorite for lunch. It's in Tupungato so you can see that beautiful valley and the stunning Andes. The entire dining experience is unique. You´re greeted near the open oven by the chef who mingles with the guests and explains that every ingredient is from the valley. The lunch begins with tapas and white wine, then moves on to the dinning room where we had a stew (locro), then a meat course (chivito-baby goat) with vegetables, and an amazing dessert. Each course is served with a different Altus wine. There are tables inside and outside. The whole lunch took about four hours.

I can't find the page for it, but you can see pictures of it on my Flickr site under Mendocino Bodegas
There are others available here.

La Sal - Unbelievable steak, live music (but not loud), beautiful decor, yummy desserts, great wine list. There are pictures of this restaurant on my Flickr site in the Mendoza set.

1884 - I had the best chivito of my life here. The place is gorgeous and the menu is filled with local flavors done imaginatively. We also had an pears, prosciutto, and parmesan shavings dressed with olive oil and herbs that was scrumptious.

Azafran is just around the corner from La Sal. We couldn't get a seat without a reservation. The place was packed. It looked delicious. Maybe next time.

Club Tapiz - Lots of people have recommended Club Tapiz. I haven't eaten there, but it's on my list.

Trip to Mendoza at Easter? Can you find a room?

2007-11-20T22:31:00.000-03:00

My aunt and uncle are planning to come to Argentina in March. It will be Easter and also harvest season and a few days after the festival--La Vendimia-- in Mendoza. In other words, we have to book now. I never plan that far in advance for anything.

Yet seeing as I am the "expert" with loads and loads of knowledge, I've started putting together a few lists for them. And since I haven't had time to write here, I might as well share that research with you guys.

The hotels listed below are mostly outside of the city of Mendoza. There are two main areas with wineries (bodegas) and boutique-type hotels: Chacras de Coria and Tupungato.

Chacras de Coria is a beautiful little town in the Maipu valley (sort of the Napa Valley of Mendoza). It's picturesque and there are some fantastic restaurants in town. Also, it's much closer to the city of Mendoza so driving in at night to try some of the restaurants in the city would be easier from here than from Tupungato. And there are more wineries in this area.

Tupungato is more rustic in terms of accommodations and restaurants, but more majestic in terms of beauty. It's further away (in the Valle de Uco) and less crowded. The mountains are gorgeous. It's much higher up than Chacras and the places here feel more gaucho-like. It's a different sort of experience. It's the difference between Aspen, Telluride and Crested Butte: Mendoza being Aspen, Chacras being Telluride, and Tupungato being Crested Butte.

Hotels near the City of Mendoza:

Club Tapiz - Popular place to stay and for dinner. It's highly recommended.

Finca Adalgisa - Gorgeous.

Rancho E'Cuero -Rustic sort of cowboy feeel.

Estancia Cheateau d'Ancon - Very French feeling.

Posada Salentein - This one is considered one of the most modern bodegas in Mendoza. Stunning, but not as quaint per se as the others.

Lares de Chacras - Looks very quaint and charming.

Posada Borravino - Nice rooms and warm atmosphere.

Bodega Inti Huaco - It feels very Argentine.

Postales del Plata - Looks good. Can't tell much from the page.

La Posada - Impressively elegant.

Park Suites, Executive Hotel - This is the only one in the city of Mendoza. It's not my style, but since the Hyatt is booked (and way expensive) it would be a good option in the city. The Sheraton is opening soon, but I'm not sure when.

38-Year-Old Memory

2007-11-08T13:51:00.000-03:00

Whether it was denial or just plain fear, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to my 20th reunion two weeks ago. I mean, I remember my parents going to their 20th reunion and that’s scary. Could I really be old enough for such an event? What will I say to all of those middle-aged people? When I see them, will it make me realize that I am actually 38? Will I feel like a failure because I am still single and not a mother? I nearly skipped it thinking I’d prefer living in denial just a bit longer.

One thing is certain my memory is 38 years old. There were people I can’t remember ever seeing before, names I don’t think I’ve ever heard, faces that ring no bells. Very embarrassing. And their memories were all topnotch. Everyone knew who I was. Even more embarrassing.

After calling a few very nice people by the wrong name, I decided I’d just stop using names and act like I knew and remembered everyone. It’s not that hard. Most conversations begin with, “so where are you these days?” Then, “what are you doing now?” And if you don’t remember who they are you can ask, “and how’s your family doing?” That one often brings up some names and stories that trigger at least a bit of a recollection. If you still don’t have a clue who they are, find someone standing nearby that you do remember and try to bring them into the conversation: “you remember so-and-so?”

In my defense, I didn’t remember people because just about everyone looked better than they did in high school. “What a relief,” I thought, until I realized they all remembered me. Did that mean I still looked like that 16-year-old girl with braces, horrendous hairstyles, pudgy cheeks, and fashion-disaster clothes that scream out “I’m trying to define myself, give me a break”?

Then I overheard a conversation in the bathroom. I couldn’t make out the voices, but three classmates of mine revealed their secret weapon: the yearbook. Duh. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Study the yearbook before your reunion, at least that way you’ll have some names and faces regardless of whether those names and faces still match.

More Tango at Ideal

2007-10-21T12:19:00.001-03:00

Accidental Peep Shows

2007-10-18T00:10:00.000-03:00

My workday begins when I log on to Skype. It's sort of like walking down the corridor of an office with windows. Everyone who is already in their office sees you walk by (or log on) and knows you're in. I also like that my friends and family pop up now and again. Even if we don't chat or call, it's just nice to see them online.

The other day, however, I saw a bit more than I was supposed to. I had just finished a call with a colleague when Skype said she was calling once again. I assumed she'd forgotten some bit of information. We'd been using our webcams and hers is set to launch the webcam automatically when the call begins.

The webcam started but there was no one there. I called out but clearly the headset was still connected, so she couldn't hear me. Then I heard the television turn on. She changed channels a few times and walked in front of the camera to her bathroom. She took off her shirt, walked back out of the view of the camera, changed channels again, and moved in front of the camera again where she took off the rest of her clothes. I watched for a while hoping she'd come back to the computer so I could send her some crazy emoticon. I wondered if I've ever done this to someone who didn't know me well enough to laugh with me.

What a way to greet your contacts. I used to walk down the hall waving and mouthing "good morning" to each person I passed. They'd wave back and we'd catch up later in the coffee room. It makes for a much more cheerful day at the office.

No Cash

2007-10-08T04:05:00.000-03:00

Does anyone remember the days when traveling overseas meant you needed to take traveler's checks and a wad of cash that you would hide in various places throughout your luggage? Back then, when you wanted to exchange money, you'd have to go to several banks to find out who had the best exchange rate and the lowest commission.

Well, if you're coming to Argentina, you might want to pack those traveler's checks and that wad of cash. ATMs here work (according to my rigorous data collection) about 7 out of 10 times. And when one isn't working, you can't simply head down the street to the next bank. Oh no. It seems the banks here all run out of money at the same time.

Now how is a tourist supposed to spend any money if the banks don't have any money to give? Once Cristina (the current president's wife) is elected president, she should make this her first task. Talk about a boost to the economy!

Friends from the Interior

2007-09-19T22:44:00.000-03:00

Why does my toilet always shut down when I'm about to receive company? Which leads me to one of my favorite expressions in Castellano: "voy despedir mis amigos del interior." Or in literal English, "I'm going to say goodbye to my friends from the Interior" and in real English, "I'm going to take a dump."

Considering all of my friends here in Argentina are from the Interior, I'm not too sure what that says about them or me for the matter. And why have my last two blog entries been about excretion?

Dating in Buenos Aires

2007-09-09T00:09:00.000-03:00

It was my first date in Buenos Aires. Actually, I wasn't sure it was a date at first. I'd met the guy because he was renting a room and I was looking for a place to stay. So when he invited me back to his apartment, I thought it might be to see where I would live when his current tenant moved out.

Our idea of personal space was different, or was he coming on to me? I wasn't sure, but one thing I was sure of was that something smelled downright awful. As we stood in the kitchen eating strawberries and sipping vodka, I thought "geez, this kitchen reeks." At least I hoped it was his kitchen since he was moving closer and closer, although I didn't think I would want to rent a room from him anymore.

Then we moved to the living room. But the smell followed and now I was sure he was going to kiss me. He'd shown me the entire apartment and there really wasn't much left to do but kiss or leave. So I left.

When I got home, wouldn't you know the smell followed me. I'd stepped in dog poop, traipsed it all over his house and blamed him. Moral of the story, when in Buenos Aires, watch where you step.

In my neighborhood there's a campaign to keep the streets clean. The streets are still filled with every type of dog poop you can imagine, and on the wall that says "This is our neighborhood, let's all work together to keep it clean," graffiti will soon overwrite the message. Oh well.

Language Lessons on the Road

2007-09-02T03:54:00.000-03:00

Taxi drivers are often the best language teachers around. They love to talk and don't seem to mind if you don't understand what they're saying, they have plenty of time on their hands, and they're willing to share their opinions on everything. Eventually you do begin to understand, whether it's because you have practically the same conversation with each taxi driver or because they're sort of like bartenders--mobile shrinks who don't offer booze or meds, instead, their services come with a healthy load of exhaust and fear.

I'm used to crazy driving. After all, I lived in Cairo for three years. When friends visit me in Buenos Aires from the States, I watch them search for the seatbelt, pull it across their chests, and spend the next five minutes or so trying to insert it. All the while the driver is yacking away, speeding in and out of lanes, on the rear of the guy in front of him, smoking, and laughing.

Some friends were visiting a while back. I'd taken a cab out to the airport to pick them up. A nice 40-minute Spanish lesson out there. On our way back into town I was having a hard time carrying on two conversations: one with my friends whom I hadn't seen in about a year and the other with the taxi driver. I didn't want to be rude, but my friends and I had a lot of catching up to do.

"Fucking cops!" yelled the driver as we raced down the highway. We looked around; in front all seemed normal; there was nothing happening behind us. "Donde?" I asked. He was giggling so hard his shoulders were shaking.

"No, it's just that's the only thing I know how to say in English. You know, I learned it from the movies and TV," he laughed. And we joined him. "Fucking cops!"

Bikya…..robabikya

2007-08-25T11:32:00.000-03:00

It’s been nearly a year since I’ve heard “bikya….robabikya.” I jumped out of bed this morning, threw open the curtains and realized I’m still in Buenos Aires. But for just a short moment I was back in Cairo.

“Bikya….robabikya.” What is the little guy who walks the streets telling people he’ll take the stuff that’s broken or that they don’t need anymore—robabikya, it’s called in Arabic—doing in Buenos Aires?

Or better, how come the flower guy sounds just like the robabikya guy? I know that’s not what he’s saying, but I’m going to sit here by the window and listen to his voice trail off, transported momentarily to my apartment in Zamalek and Saturday mornings on my balcony with a big ole cup of coffee and a thousand police officers below me sipping tea as they try not to fall asleep.

Nostalgic.

Italiano or Castellano?

2007-08-16T21:47:00.000-03:00

My Spanish (or Castellano as it’s called here) is mostly Italian, but people are nice enough to let me think I'm speaking to them in Castellano. Today over lunch, Italian was not helping me much.

Lesson 1: It started when I had yet another conversation about therapists—supposedly Buenos Aires has the highest number of psychoanalysts per capita in the world, something like one therapist for every thirty-five porteños. Pretty much everyone thinks I need to get one of my own.

I explained to my friend that I would want a therapist that speaks English and preferably comes from my culture because it would be easier for me to express myself. In Italian, express is esprimere, so I said esprimir. My friend seemed to understand me, but I wasn’t sure.

“Is that how you say it in Castellano?” I asked. She assured me that it was correct but added that it was more something from the Interior and not Buenos Aires and a little different than what I said: “sacar el jugo,” she explained was the appropriate expression.

“Take the juice out? That’s odd,” I thought. Turns out esprimir in Spanish means to juice, as in to juice an orange. But it doesn’t have a thing to do with expressing oneself, or does it?

So what did she think I meant? I need a therapist who speaks English so I can take the juice out. Of what? So I can get to the good stuff? I’m still not sure, but I’ll keep using it to see what reactions I get.

Lesson 2: The second Italian/Castellano mistake was one I’ve made before. Orto in Italian means garden. In Castellano it means butt. I was talking about salad and how salad here is always fresh right from the garden or right from the butt if you make the mistake of saying orto instead of huerto.

Lesson 3: Maybe the best one yet though was about a week ago at dinner with some people I know well and others I barely know at all. They were trying to fix me up with a friend and wanted to know what kind of guy I’m interested in. I said age wasn’t much of an issue but if the guy is older than me he should still be in good shape. I had a date with an older guy that had trouble standing up.

To stand up in Italian is alzarse. Alzarse in Castellano is "to get it up." You can imagine the confusion and the laughs. In the end, it would be good if the guy could do both.

Fools and Fanatics

2007-08-06T21:19:00.000-03:00

"The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts."
- Bertrand Russell

When I first read this I thought, "absolutely, Russell is so right." Guess I'm a fool, or a fanatic.

Through the Eyes of Another

2007-08-04T21:06:00.000-03:00

I just got back from a trip back home--a mix of business, family, and the beach. I took a friend with me. It's always interesting to see your country through the eyes of a foreigner. The first time I did this, I was way too defensive and proud to accept any criticism. I still am.

Don't get me wrong, I'm the first to criticize my country, my city, my people, my family, my friends, myself, you name it. But just because I do doesn't mean you can. Or better, you're welcome to do so, but don't leave out the positive. Luckily my travel buddy was enamored with Louisiana even if she didn't love the rest of the country. That's enough for me.

But it's like when you go to a girlfriend to bitch about your husband. She's not supposed to agree with you. She's supposed to listen and understand, but in the end, until you decide to dump the idiot, she is supposed to just mimic whatever you say. So that the conversation isn't a bunch of "uh-huhs" and "I-know-what-you-means" and "really-I-can't-believes", she might add that her husband is also an idiot and tell you a story to show that you are not alone. That's a good friend. One that tells you, "yep, your guy is a total loser and you need to dump him" might also be a good friend, but she hasn't understood yet the fine art of listening to a friend bitch about her guy.

Well, the same rules for criticizing husbands and boyfriends apply to criticizing countries and families. Say for instance your significant other has a family of nuts. He'll complain about them to you and you'll want to agree. Don't! If they are all nuts, he is probably nuts too.

Since I am typically the first to criticize my country, I thought I'd point out the positive things just like a good friend should do. Here's what I miss about home:

1. Hot dogs-I happened to be traveling with a hot dog freak. Good thing too, because while many people go to New Orleans for creamy sauces and oysters, for me if I have to go to Bourbon Street I want a Lucky Dog. I'm not objective enough to tell you if Lucky Dogs are better than regular hot dogs, but here's the difference between the Argentinean version (choripan) and a Lucky Dog. Lucky Dogs are smaller and less greasy, so you won't bite into it and ruin your evening wear. And, they don't fill you up so you can still eat some gumbo later.

2. LIVE MUSIC-I had to yell this one because it's not that there isn't live music in Argentina, there is. But it's not the kind of music that makes you want to sign a petition to impeach Bush. I miss get-up-and-yell music that has nothing to do with seduction. No polite applause at the end. The music might be good, it might be crap. That's not the point.

3. Extremes-Sometimes when I go home I try to imagine I'm a visitor from another land. Being with a friend from another land helps. So, if I were "visiting" the US, wouldn't I think it's sort of charming that people get dressed up on Sunday and speak in tongues in the local freakoid church? In one family you might have tattoos and debauchery mixed with conservatism and piety. Ain't that cool? I mean, I'd much rather spend my life with people who feel passionately about the wrong thing than people who feel nothing at all.

Or for example, the latest craze filling up the bookshelves and supermarket aisles. And everyone buying into it. How naive and sort of charming if you imagine it's not your people and your country.

4. Diversity-Diversity in everything. Yes, I am ashamed to admit it. I love the fact that you can get anything you want at anytime. But more specifically, I love the cultural diversity. It's true that you have to look hard for it. But, by god it exists. I moved to Argentina from Egypt because I wanted to fit in. I was tired of people staring and taking pictures of me (mind you I was taking pictures of them too). I fit in, just like the rest of the 14 million people in this city.

5. Shared humor and cultural references-I miss being able to say Denny's without having to explain that it's a place you go late-night for some breakfast food before going to bed because you either aren't ready to go home or you need some food to absorb the alcohol. Or how about being able to tell a joke and having people get it, really get it. I don't much miss going to Denny's though.

6. Your basic understanding of what's supposed to happen-When things don't go right, you know it and do something about it. There's no trying to figure out if this is a cultural difference or if you just didn't explain yourself well. Sometimes life in the States is too organized for my taste. It's stifling. But then when you live in places with hardly any rules, you sort of come to appreciate that dull, organized sanity that is home.

7. The BEACH-I miss being outside and swimming.

8. Change, change, change- And the belief that you can pretty much have whatever you want. Who knows if it's true, it's just nice to think it might be.

Vegans in Argentina

2007-06-22T18:48:00.000-03:00

It's not easy being a vegetarian in Argentina so imagine how difficult it is if you're a vegan. When my vegan friends planned to visit me here, I warned them in advance.

After two weeks in Buenos Aires with a couple of vegans from North Florida, here's what I learned.

1. Vegetarian here means no beef. It does not mean no meat. And vegan is a totally foreign concept.

For the first couple of days I'd ask if there were any vegetarian dishes. "Sure, we have chicken dishes or ham and cheese empanadas, for example." Then I'd explain I meant dishes with no meat. But the word for meat is carne, which means beef. "They don't eat any land or water animals," I would explain, "or any products of animals like eggs, cheese, milk, etc." This explanation usually worked.

2. Salad, french fries, pizza and pasta (although most are made with eggs) are your best bet.

Salads here are fresh and cheap and virtually every restaurant has them. Argentines, though carnivores at heart, are very creative with their salads and you can pretty much guarantee there will be no land or water animals of any kind.

I've had the best fries I've ever eaten here in Argentina. When I asked what they did to make them so scrumptious, the waitress said they were fried in lard. It's probably worth asking if you're going to order fries.

The Italian influence here is everywhere. The way they drive, the way the men flirt, the way they speak Spanish. And yes, the way they cook or at least what they cook. For good pizzas try Piola or Romario. But your best bet for creative vegetarian-style pizza (and some pasta dishes) is Flor de Lino in San Telmo.

I'm a bit picky when it comes to pasta. There's a place everyone says is wonderful on the corner of Cordoba and Esmeralda. It's called Broccolino and it has the feel of an authentic Italian restaurant. My pasta was drowning in sauce though and the cheese they piled on top of it became a melted layer of rubber. Ask them to bring the cheese to the table and put it on yourself. If you're used to eating pasta in the States, you'll probably like the pasta here. If you're Italian, order something else.

3. Thai and Indian restaurants are plentiful.

There's a great Thai restaurant in Las Cañitas called Lotus Neo Thai. It's beautifully decorated and the food was wonderful.

For Indian food, try La Reina Kunti in Almagro or Krishna in Palermo.

4. Read the menu before you enter. Even some of the best parillas (steak places) offer fantastic vegetable dishes.

One of my favorite restaurants in Las Cañitas is a typical parilla called Las Cholas. They serve some traditional dishes from the North of Argentina along with the standard parilla fare. Try the vegetables from the oven (al horno): squash, potatoes, corn, and pumpkin cooked with honey. They also have some delicious rice and vegetable dishes but these usually come with a creamy cheese.

5. Four restaurants that offer creative all-vegetarian dishes.

Argentines are proud of their city and love to offer advice. Friends came running to my aid with a few amazing suggestions. The picture above is of Bio, a fantastic place that serves macrobiotic cuisine and delicious fresh juices.

A bit more upscale is Verdellama which claims to specialize in "life food." The chef is well-known Diego Castro who used to run a one-night-a-week all vegan restaurant from his home.

And finally there's Artemisia. Another upscale vegetarian restaurant in trendy Palermo that offers homemade natural cuisine and a nice wine list. Artemisia's menu also includes some fish dishes in case you're going with friends who aren't veggie lovers.

To find restuarants by type of food, location, or rating go to the Oleo Guide of restaurant in Buenos Aires.

Also interesting is this article in Spanish Recorrido vegetariano: verde en todos los tonos on vegetarian options in the capital.

Tango at Ideal

2007-06-15T21:43:00.000-03:00

Yes, I have become a tango junkie. Here's a video of the latest outing with Chuck and Kathe. I danced this time. The first partner was 94 years old. They got younger as the night got older.

Tango at Tortoni

2007-05-31T00:45:00.000-03:00

Tango is one of the reasons I moved to Buenos Aires. It's passionate, dramatic, melancholic, and stunningly beautiful. I went to the show at one of Buenos Aires' most famous cafes, Tortoni. I like milongas better (this is where true tango lovers show up with their shoes in a bag and dance til sunrise), but I'm always afraid someone will ask me to dance. Watching this couple put on the show for tourists from all over the world at Cafe Tortoni was not necessarily authentic, but it was moving.

A friend of mine moved here from the States a few years ago after a month-long visit to study tango. She was working on her dissertation where she uses tango as a metaphor for the soul. Her blog The Tango Jungle has all sorts of insider information for tango wannabes. She hasn't written in a while, but browse through her earlier posts. You'll learn all the do's and dont's of milonga etiquette.

When Shit! isn't Mierda!

2007-05-18T22:55:00.000-03:00

I read a friend’s story today about language and life. The story was a hoot. And it brought up a really intriguing point. Is Mierda! ever really Shit!? Can one ever reach the point of feeling another language?

If you speak another language, you’ll know what I mean. You might get the lingo down: tell the offender off nicely (which is the wuss way and typically the one of most beginners to a language), tell him off creatively to earn you a smile (which is not so much telling him off), tell him off elegantly (which means, I’m better than you even when I tell you off I do it with style), tell him off vulgarly (which is the real test: if you can make the offender blush and walk away sheepishly you’ve mastered the language).

But if someone really pisses you off, it just has to be done in your first language. Or does it?

I love to shout out profanities in Italian, especially when I’m driving. “Stronzo” is shorter and more aggressive sounding than “asshole.” When I’m driving, I’m not really emotionally involved with the other dirtbag drivers on the road and they can’t hear me. “Figlio di puttana” is one of those Italian slurs that just doesn’t do it for me. I mean, compare the sound of it to “son of a bitch” and you’ll see why. Are there profanities in some languages that help you let off steam better than their equivalents in other languages?

Audience is another question. When fighting with my Italian boyfriend, he was a “stronzo.” But my Argentinean boyfriend was an “hijo de puta.” To me they mean the same thing. My choice was based on my audience. But I called one an asshole and the other a son of a bitch. And in English, these are quite different and neither mean what I really wanted to say: “mother fucker.” Did these boyfriends ever understand how mad I was? Did they think I was madder than I really was?

But when I’m so angry that I need to curse, I need to do it to feel better, it has to be done in English. Cursing in Italian is light for me. It’s a diversion, a little fun, a play with words. Cursing in Spanish means nothing to me. I feel no release of negativity. The therapeutic effects are lost entirely. In the end, Shit! will never be Mierda!

If I break my toe while I’m walking with a group of Argentines, you’d better believe my head will be saying Shit! while my mouth says Mierda! If you live in another country and everything around you is happening in another language, yet you continue to think, process, and, in essence, experience all of this in your native language, all of your emotions, that is, come to you in your native language, isn’t the rest of it just acting? Can people ever really know who you are if you call them an asshole when you mean to call them a mother fucker?

Borat and Mamma Mia

2007-05-15T19:32:00.000-03:00

While home visiting the family in November, I took my mom to the movies. We got there too late for whatever film it was we had planned on seeing. So we just randomly picked another one. I picked it actually. I liked the poster.

Borat. That’s what I picked. From the poster, I thought it was going to be an interesting sort of international picture that my mom and I would talk about for days and days. I wasn’t completely wrong. We are still talking about Borat, but our conversations don’t look much like I’d thought they would.

I suppose the majority of the audience knew what they were in for. They were mostly in their twenties and prepared to laugh at offensive jokes.

Borat is offensive from the first scene. You know that kind of humor that makes you laugh, but you feel a little guilty about laughing so you hold it in. I did hold it in for a while. But soon I was laughing with all the tweny-year-olds, laughing so hard my legs flew up to my chest and my stomach got a workout. My mom was stone cold.

Watching a movie you find endlessly funny with someone who is looking around to see if she knows anyone there because she would “just die” if her friends saw her is pretty surreal. Sometimes it makes you laugh even harder. The absurdity of it all. Sharing Borat with my mother, who would have ever guessed?

A few minutes into it I was worried we might have to leave. To be honest, my mom was a good sport. She stayed for at least the first thirty minutes. We had to leave when the fat guy was running around naked and Borat fell face first into his balls. That was really just too much.

The Lives of Others

2007-05-12T13:09:00.000-03:00

If you haven't seen this movie, you must. "The Lives of Others" is a film about moral integrity and justice. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, who wrote and directed the film, achieves what films rarely do; he develops a plot that appears simple and allows the story itself to reveal the complexity of human emotions and morality.

Set in East Berlin in 1984, the story is of an agent of the Stasi named Gerd Wiesler, played by Ulrich Muhe, who has a knack for identifying the enemies of the State. Fulfilling his Orwellian function, Wiesler is sent to spy on (or enter) the life of a couple, a writer and an actress. His mission is to find evidence of a conspiracy even though there is no reason to suspect that there will be any evidence. Indeed it is because the suspects have neither said nor done anything suspicious that the Stasi suspects them.

As Wiesler, a broken man whose life is the Stasi and who truly believes that the work he does is for the good of the country, listens in on their conversations about art,music, books and humanity, he becomes engaged in their lives. It may even be their innocence and goodness that most intrigues him. He learns from them. He begins to care for them and to care about what happens to them. The news of a friend's suicide is the turning point for all three main characters. The writer, Georg Dreyman (played by Sebastian Kock) plays Beethoven's "Appassionata" and tells his girlfriend, Christa-Marie Sieland (played by Martina Gedeck), that Lenin once said if he were to continue listening to this music he would not finish the revolution. As Wiesler listens in, observing how they comfort one another in their grief over their lost friend, a tear rolls down his cheek. Can anyone who has heard this music really be a bad person? asks Georg.

This is what makes the film so wonderful. Good and bad are not black and white. And the topic--that of the government invading the lives of its citizens even without reason and for the purpose of finding or fabricating evidence of a conspiracy--is one that should send a warning to US audiences. The torture of prisoners, the brutal interrogation tactics, the wiretaps and cameras watching every step, the fact that the government decides who is an enemy with or without proof, the censorship of art and artists. For those who value freedom and believe that by relinquishing some freedoms we will remain free, this film shows just how dangerous it is to give too much power to the powerful and just what it means to lose one's freedom.

Alquilar un Marido

2007-05-02T21:45:00.000-03:00

They have this thing here called Alquilar un Marido (rent a husband). The first time I saw the sign I thought they'd pretty much hit the nail on the head. I mean, husbands are expensive and mostly useful in short spurts. Renting one seemed like a good idea.

Then I learned that these are really handymen. If you ask me, they got the name wrong. I'll bet the majority of women who call needing a handyman already have a husband who isn't very handy.

I rented my first two husbands today. David and his son David came to fix my heater. They're friendly and funny and very handy. They cost a lot less than most husbands I know and the heater actually works. I won't be filing for divorce any time soon.

I love a good book

2007-04-23T23:53:00.000-03:00

I've bought this book, The God of Small Things, so many times and given it away just as I start reading it because I end up talking to someone about how good it is, they get excited about it, so I give them my copy. Then I buy a new one and start all over again. I'm only on chapter 8, halfway through the book. I usually give my copy away right about now.

This time, it's the writing style that fascinates me most. The first time I started it, the political side was the intrigue. I had just moved to Egypt, and although I'd lived in developing countries before, in Egypt it was much clearer that the impact of the developed world was devastating. I could relate with that part of the story as I was living it for the first time in my life.

But this time it's really Arundhati Roy's writing style that I love. Her details are meticulous and humorous. They don't read like pages of adjectives before nouns placed to fulfill the requirements of a composition class. Every detail has a meaning--often a hidden and derisive meaning. The plot is developed through the descriptions that often come from the voices of children (who haven't yet been jaded). And, it's spot on. She's a master of "Show me, don't tell me."

When fiction explains reality better than non-fiction ever could, that to me is excellence. And when it still grabs your attention at 3 in the morning after you've been teaching Russian students to speak English all online and don't want to read another word in any language, that is just plain awesome.

Mendoza

2007-04-20T16:47:00.000-03:00

As if having all that great wine wasn't enough, look at those mountains!

Music--Live Music

2007-04-15T19:37:00.000-03:00

I went to see Diego el Cigala at the Gran Rex a few weeks ago. Bebo y Cigala's Lagrimas Negras is one of my favorite CDs. The combination of gypsy flamenco with Cuban rhythms seems so well suited.

Listening to music that moves me in my home (where I can dance around and drink a glass of wine) is one of my favorite pastimes. A live concert of that same music can sometimes be a real letdown. Not this one.

Diego el Cigala's passion was totally contagious and even though I couldn't get up and dance, we were in a theater after all, the vibrations of the music hit deep. I could feel the rhythms, not just hear them. When he began singing, the energy was intense.

He came back for at least 4 encores, ending the show with an improvisation that took me back to Sevilla. I once saw a group of teenagers along the Guadalquivir dancing, singing and playing the cajon as they passed around a bottle of booze. How I longed to be a Spanish teenager growing up in Andalusia.

New Neigborhood

2007-03-22T11:19:00.000-03:00

Las Canitas is my new neighborhood. These are my friends Gonzalo and Naty on my first night in the new pad. When I first came here I thought it was too trendy for me. It's almost like the South Beach of Buenos Aires. It has layers though. While it's not a barrio barrio, it's definitely a curious place. Dog walkers, joggers, those who weed through the trash looking for cardboard or bottles or whatever else they might be able to sell, polo players, beautiful people sitting in corner cafes, and three sushi restaurants on my street alone. This is a far cry from my last two homes--downtown Buenos Aires and Zamalek in Cairo.

Sure, there are things I miss about the other two places. I miss the chaos sometimes. And although it feels like I've sold out by not waiting until I found an apartment in the more bohemian quarter, San Telmo , the green trees and fresh air here more than make up for the plastic breasts and sculpted bodies I share the streets with.

New Apartment

2007-03-20T06:17:00.000-03:00

For five months I lived in downtown Buenos Aires surrounded by pollution and noise. I knew I needed to move but was too afraid to commit to a contract. I have a two-year contract and a beautiful little apartment with a view of the polo field.

It was about a month ago when I went to the countryside with some friends that I realized how poisonous my surroundings were. I've wasted so many hours sitting in that noisy apartment trying to concentrate and getting nothing accomplished. I even created this blog three months ago. It just sat here.

I don't know what this blog will be about other than things that inspire me or things I'm curious about. For now, that's enough. A start. A new beginning in a new city and a new apartment.

Things that inspire me......

sunrises
sunsets
light
green
beaches
mountains
friendship
flamenco
fresh food
languages
honesty
traveling
independence
freedom
love
palm trees
talent
good movies
cooking
wine
street food
coffee
cultures
black and white photographs
portraits
change
laughter...