These are a few of my favorite things!

So- My blog posts are probably reflecting a bit if disdain for this place I am calling home. However, aside from the postal service, pollution, government, dog feces on the sidewalks, and trash/litter everywhere- I really do love it here. So- my top ten David Letterman Style (the drum role would be kicking in right about now)....

10. All rules are meant to be broken. This includes laws that would be felonies in the US- however,those are rules only the wealthy can break.

9. I don't have to drive- and can go anywhere by bus, train, or Subte.

8. Laundry Service- washed, dried, pressed, folded.... for less than $4- esp. handy for the sheets with elastic around the edges that are next to impossible

7. A greeting here is not a handshake- but a kiss on the cheek. Even grown men in business situations.....

6. Time for family and friends takes precedence over life in the fast lane!

5. I can wake up, have a full day of work, come home, work out, practice Spanish for two hours, and go eat dinner at 10:30 or 11, take a nap and then go out to the clubs at 2:30-3- and it is totally normal.

4. STEAK! Amazing- enough said. (Well- I will put the wine in here to... and Ice Cream.... and Alfahores.....and medialunas- but only the really good ones)

3. When people are unhappy with their government- they protest- and try to change it. They have quite a rich history- far more complex than anything the US has experienced,

2. People are friendly and laid back. They are extremely helpful and love foreigners- they are fascinated by other cultures.

1. I can sit in a cafe for five hours- drinking only one cup of coffee or a coke(served in a glass bottle and made with real sugar- not corn syrup- muy bueno!)
and never get a dirty look from my waiter- who will not even expect a tip but is happy when I give him one.

0. The shopping (or window shopping for me :)- fabulous- all different- all boutiques by different designers that constantly make me think of my sister- which also makes me happy.

This is not by any means a comprehensive list. It is just a taste of this place. And I really do love it- enough to have a home here permanently. I am sure the fondness will only grow as I explore the other parts of Argentina! More to come there.....

Planes, Trains, and Time Machines?

Please keep in mind that it is difficult to take pictures of random people without them noticing- and most think you are creepy if you do get caught. However, Greg and I did our best to capture the 80's life here..... We even got kicked out of a mall for taking pictures of merchandise. All in the name of blogging!

When I walk into a store (grocery, clothing, pharmacy, gym, etc)- I can almost always be guaranteed to hear Michael Jackson or Madonna playing- and it is always older music- circa 1980's. On the off chance that I don't- I can be sure that some other 80's music will be playing.


The pants here look like something out of MC Hammer's closet. They come in all types and designs of fabrics- jeans, leather, leopard print, hot pink, etc.... and they are worn with all stars or neon colored shoes- many that resemble some my mother wore back in the early 80's. You know- white, Reebok high tops- classics really if you ask her. She would be pleased to know that they also come in neon green, hot pink, etc.... The supply of weird sneakers is enough to satisfy even my brother's love of ugly shoes.

I have even seen the comeback of leg warmers and tight spandex/stirrup pants..... although I have not seen the classic 80's hyper-color shirts.... yet. The mullets here definitely make up for it though.

Then there are the roller bladders. I run by them at the park- even on the days when I have already run 12- 13 miles and am finishing up. I pass right by them. Not because I am a super fast runner- but because it is as though roller blades were just invented. Everyone is learning how to roller blade- and very few (I am talking maybe three total in the entire country- consisting of millions of people) have actually figured it out.

Also at the park, every weekend and some weekday evenings, there is a guy who holds aerobics classes. He gets up on a makeshift stage and goes through a routine that he only could have learned from Richard Simmons tapes. (Did I mention that Argentina's idea of exercise is walking through the isles of the grocery store? ) - Pure entertainment- I will try to get a video, but not all like to be movie stars- especially in the even a drop of sweat forms somewhere on their body.

Recycling and environmental issues have not yet become of concern here- and people throw trash out the windows and on the street as though the idea of littering did not yet exist.

All of this keeps me wondering if I have gone back in time.... to the 80's. While I loved the 80's/early 90's- I am not sure things from that era should resurface. And if it is the 80's in Buenos Aires, I would like my wrinkles to go away- because I didn't have them in the 80's.

Elect me for President- I can solve the unemployment problem!

I think Buenos Aires might be onto something here. They have a way of creating a plethora of jobs- leaving no man without an option to find work. Let me explain.

Greg and I live a half block from an ice cream place. We walk by it several times a day- and there are always the same two men- chatting away- bored out of their minds because it is almost always empty. It is not empty because they do not get business- rather because the amount of time it takes for one to go inside, choose their ice cream, pay, and leave is relatively short.... and they are not overloaded with customers. When you go to get your ice cream, there is a definite process to keep order in the unchaotic place. You tell one man what size you would like and pay him, and then you tell the other man the flavors you want and he scoops them. In the US, this job could and would be done by one person. It is never busy enough to warrant paying another person, and in the event it did get that busy- people would just have to wait. (Which is not something unusual here- it is not uncommon to see a line out the door and around the building at banks).

This is just one example.... but it is repeated in all stores. You usually go inside and see five people standing around waiting to help you. However, there will never be an opportunity for all five people to be busy.

The garbage man comes every night. Trash bags here are not bought, they are given to you when you buy things. It is why only one or two items are placed in each plastic bag when you check out at the grocery store- you need several bags for your trash. So every night, you take your trash to the curb between 8-9, adorning the streets with small tied up bundles of garbage. Then a group of workers comes along and tears open the bags, looking for glass and plastic bottles, which get put into a special clear bag. In the process, the trash spills like confetti into the streets and sidewalks, where it remains until morning. The sorters put what is left of the small bags into a large, black plastic bag- similar to what you would use to rake leaves into. Then men in a garbage truck come and pick up the black plastic bags- and often leave a "trail of crumbs" behind the overflowing trash storage vehicle. So in the morning, a whole new group goes out and cleans up the mess left over from the other two groups- with a broom, dustpan, plastic gloves, and garbage bag. The streets remain clean for a few hours- and then it starts again. Trash is picked up Mon- Sun- no exceptions- not even holidays.

Streets are torn up unnecessarily and repaired. If there is a street with a small pothole, they take a jackhammer and completely tear it up. They are rather efficient at doing this as well. It would be completely unacceptable for a project of street repair (replacement is probably a better word) here to take more than a few days at the absolute most.

When we run by a house or building being painted- it is always being done by hand and not machine. Restaurants are fully staffed with waiters at the opening time of 7:30- even though people never go out to dinner before 9:30-10, with the busiest hours running from 10:45-12:30. Often as you walk on the side walk, there are ten people replacing 30 tiles by hand (the side walks are all square tiles- not cement)- and a few watching because there is not enough room for all of them to work.

The list goes on and on. Perhaps the only place that they actually need more staff is in the grocery stores, where lines often run down all of the isles- making it a bit of a challenge to get things off the shelve. I often have to reach between someones legs to do it (an advantage of being small?). And there is no such thing as a quick trip to the grocery store because of it.

So, can we learn from this? Is it a good idea to just hire people and create work to keep people busy? Perhaps if we had a vat tax of 21%, forced all of the products sold in the country to be made in the country,charged ridiculous fees for getting your mail, did not maintain public hospitals and schools, did not have NASA or other research projects to contribute to, were not trying to save the planet through conservation and animal protection, had a military of a few thousand men weighing in at 130 lbs. and armed with BB guns, etc.... then we could afford to.

First it was the computer gods.....

I guess I must have pissed off the key gods. Yes- key gods. I didn't know they existed either- but they do. Greg and I are training for a marathon. We ran 12 miles in Cordoba on Saturday. As a result, our legs were a bit tired. However, we were on a mission to walk around and see the city. So we did. On the way back to our hotel, we stopped inside a shop. The shops in Argentina usually keep their doors locked- so you ring a bell and they let you in. They also have to let you out. Well- we went in, and tried to get out..... but the keys would not work. So Greg and I watched as not one, but three people tried to unlock the door. It was useless. No one could get it open. And then, one store clerk decides to bank the key into the lock. It breaks. My legs are too tired at this point- and Greg and I both are sitting on the floor while we watch this. Couldn't someone just call a key guy?

So after an hour of fun- a man comes and removes the door from the shop. We are able to exit. But the fun continues.....

We get on our bus the next night at 10 pm. We ride all night and arrive at 7am. Excited that it is rather early and we have the whole day to be productive- we cab it home from the bus station ready to seize the day. We arrive and go to unlock our door- but the key will not work. .....This might need some explaining too....

About a week ago, Greg left his keys to the apartment in a cab. So we got a spare set made. The spare set is what we took with us. Somehow- it managed to change the lock.

So we get the master keys from our landlord- after waiting for her to call us back for an hour. They also do not work. The time is now 8:30- the key man does not open until 9 (give or take an hour depending on how he feels that morning). So we go have breakfast (coffee and toast- the normal here). At 9:30- we go see the key man. He is just opening. Great! We tell him in perfect spanglish what is going on. He replies in perfect Spanish that it is not possible for a key to change the lock- not his problem. So we call our landlord to help. She calls the key man- who comes with us to our apartment. He tries the keys (because we don't know how to unlock a door?) He then tells us it is the lock and not his problem. He leaves. We are oh so happy he came to help. (did I mention that he brought a large tool box with him- which was not opened at any point in time).

We call our landlord again. She calls a lock man (yes- there is a key man and a lock man. Just like there is a place you go to get chicken and another you go to in order to purchase beef). He is "leaving right now and will be right there". Did I mention that we had been on a bus all night and really wanted a shower and to brush our teeth? So- 10 min. turns into 3 hours. We had to sit and wait there- because if you are not there they will leave. By this time it is almost 1 pm. He gets us into our apartment by removing the lock. He takes all keys- telling us he will be back in 30 min. ..... Three hours later...... What did we do to the key gods?

The Jesus Bus

So- it is 1:20 here in B.A. While I am incredibly tired, I just am unable to sleep. I am on a bus on the way to Cordoba. Greg and I love B.A. Really. However, every once in a while, you get a craving for this little thing called oxygen. Interesting that we chose to do a marathon here- where ewe get to suck in the fresh, black exhaust as the buses and cars honk by (did I mention that everyone uses their horns as much as they use their brakes- I really wish I were joking. If I were president here I would enact two laws right away: 1) all horns will be removed from vehicles due to a gross misuse of them 2) People who do not clean up after their dog will receive a fine equivalent to 10% of a month’s wages…. Sorry for the tangent). In addition- it is amazing to runs by all of the smokers- helps me get my daily dose of nicotine ( for as obsessed with this culture is about their appearances- they do not seem to mind all of the side effects of smoking… dark circles, wrinkles, etc… maybe that is why the health insurance companies include plastic surgery?) . So Greg and I heard that you can take these great buses out to pretty much anywhere. They have different classes- with the best class having a large chair that fully reclines and has a foot rest. They leave at night and arrive in the morning. Perfect! So we venture down to the bus station. Imagine JFK airport- but with trash all over the ground and peddlers from Mexico selling everything from super panchos (hotdogs) to socks to school supplies. There are literally a hundred different bus companies. While you would think this would mean competing prices-( and you are an American so of course your capitalistic ways would)- all of the tickets with every company are within 10 pesos of each other (yes, being the bargain shoppers we are- we checked). So we finally settled on the company that had the nicest attendant. Our bus was to leave a few days later.

At 9:15 we arrive for our 9:30 departure. While we thought we cut it close- nothing here is ever on time. There are hundreds of platforms. I wish I could describe the enormity of this place- it is quite a scene. My favorite part is all of the stray dogs that walk around- and occasionally sneak onto the buses. There are several announcements being made simultaneously over different loud speakers announcing what bus is departing soon. Even if I spoke perfect Spanish, the garbled competing voices would still be incomprehensible. But we do find our bus, trek over to its departure platform, hand over our backpacks to the driver, and hop into our seats. They are a plush blue velvet- and quite roomy. As the bus prepares for departure, a woman comes by and hands us papers. While I am unable to understand it- it soon becomes apparent that it is a scripture from the bible. We are asked to remove our bibles from the front pocket of the seat. Over the loud speaker in the bus- a woman begins a prayer/scripture reading that lasts at least twenty minutes. The end turns into a hymn. (Their version of the airplane safety talk maybe?). We soon notice that our bus is also adorned with stickers proclaiming that “God is the Savior” and other religious sayings, and notice that the radio is locked on the religious music station.

What makes this so spectacularly fabulous is the sheer irony of the situation. Greg is so anti-religion that it is almost a religion in itself. And out of 75 bus lines that we could have chosen for our trip to Cordoba, we chose the holy one. No wonder the attendant was so nice! I wonder if you have to be Catholic to work for them?

So here I am- unable to sleep- not because the bus is bad in any way. It is blessed and safe. The only person snoring on the entire bus is seated directly behind me. This is not light snoring either- it sounds like a little kid slurping the bottom of their drink- desperately wanting the last drops…. Except this woman is desperately slurping for air. Yes- I did say woman- and I wish I had my camera available because I would take a picture of her. As I look around, I also realize that Greg and I are the youngest people by at least 30 yrs. on the lower half of the bus. The guy who sold us the tickets said it was the more tranquil floor than the top- I guess by tranquil he meant older?