barilochay babay

So I told myself that I would report back every evening about my various activities here in Bariloche, but clearly I am incapable of keeping my word, even to myself. Maybe that is because when I decided to solo it to Bariloche from Buenos Aires, I pessimistically thought that I would spend evenings by myself and thus have time to sit down in front of the computer and blog. Sometimes it pays to be a little pessimistic because I have actually not been alone (ie I have made friends) and am having the best time. Ever.

I decided that after my 19 hour bus ride from BA I should probably do something a little active to stretch my legs out a bit. Opting for the Circuito Chico by bike, I thought that I would have a nice, short, leisurely ride around Lake Nahuel Huapi. When I got to the bike rental place, there were two other people also planning on riding-- a Taiwanese girl and an Israeli dude. All three of us were travelling alone, so the only logical thing for us to do would be to ride the Circuito Chico together. Feeling stubbornly independent, I quickly biked away from the others, thinking it would be better if I biked by myself...but within five minutes, I crashed into a bush on the side of the road. So I decided to not be an asshole. I swallowed my pride, dusted off my knees, and rejoined my new friends.

The 25-Km Circuito was beautiful but do not be fooled by the "Chico." It was pretty hilly at times, although on the whole, not impossibly difficult. Since I am not really a biker (only because I hate helmets and hate going really fast downhill), I am going to pat myself on the back for setting out to do the bike ride. I did not even complain once. For those who know me, you might admit that this is pretty good for me.

The bike rental company gave us vouchers for free beers at a local brewery, so after the 6 hour ride, all three of us headed straight there. Great marketing on the part of the bike company and the brewery because what did I learn about Bariloche that day? It is the land of chocolate, beer, ice cream and berries. You cannot beat that.

The next day, I climbed the Cerro Campanero with an Argentine and a French boy. It is only a 30 minute trek, but it is also very steep going up-- and honestly, it was all I could handle that morning, if you know what I mean. Beautiful view of all of the lake and the mountains surrounding it. The three of us stayed up at the top and did not talk; we just looked at the scenery and sat in silence for about 45 minutes. It was a perfect morning. A few months ago, a volcano in Chile erupted and the ashes from the eruption still hang in the air. Luckily when we first got to the top of the Cerro, the wind had not blown the ashes our way, but within the hour that we were up there, slowly the view became clouded over by a thick layer of ash. So after a bit we climbed back down. And then I got ice cream for the first of two times that day.

I took the afternoon off and laid out on the rocky, but surprisingly very comfortable beach. The lake water was chilly but refreshing. I submerged myself a few times before running out quickly for safety and sun on shore. I ran into my Israeli friend and hung with him and some other people by the beach until the sun set and I decided I was too cold to stay any longer. Twas another awesome day.

For today, the hostel offered a discount on rafting in class 4 rapids. For 170 pesos, it was a great deal. Although I was a little hesitant at first because my last rafting experience in Wyoming was not my most favorite thing in the world, the excursion proved to be a great choice. It was very ashy in the morning, so any view at the end of a long trek would not have been the best.

Bariloche ceases to amaze me. The water was aquamarine blue, clean, and so refreshing. Oh and rapid-y. The rafting was exhilerating-- but the best part came at the end, when we could jump out of the raft and just float down the river. Again, I was hesitant at first to leave the safety of the raft, but I am so glad I took the plunge (literally).

We got back late in the afternoon, so I took a little walk through the town and stopped in every single chocolate shop I saw. It proved to be a great afternoon activity since nearly every shop offers free samples. I most certainly successfully played the part of the obnoxious tourist, as I walked into every shop, admired and tasted the chocolate, and then slyly escaped without purchasing anything! Now I do not feel so well.

Anyway. Now I am back at the hostel and I think I will go eat some free dinner (I love hostels and the great promotions they offer). More later and pictures to follow.

Hydrofracking.

According to the Times, the New York State government is coming closer to deciding whether to allow gas companies to extract natural gas via hydrofracking in various parts of the state. "Hydrofracking"-- an eery sounding name in it of itself-- is a potentially dangerous and environmentally-threatening way of sequestering gas from shale buried deep below the ground. Gas companies are heavily lobbying the government for permission to swarm little upstate villages and drill into these sources where apparently the gas lies untapped. The benefit? We get natural gas! (Some) people get jobs! The downsides? A majority of the New York water supply is poisoned with carcinogens, heavy metals and radioactive materials and the green hills of the countryside are broken up and destroyed.

In efforts to dissuade New York residents worried about hydrofracking risks, the most recent article in the paper cites a representative of the Independent Oil and Gas Association of New York, Jim Smith (cool name, dude), who claims "'Listen, it's not as bad as you're hearing.' There are risks involved, but any fuel source has a risk attached to it." Bingo Mr. Smith! You got it! There are big risks involved with "fuel source" extraction. Let's take a look at the past couple of years, shall we? To name just two huge "fuel source" disasters caused by pure carelessness, let's not forget the Gulf Coast oil spill and Fukushima. So is hydrofracking worth all the trouble? I wouldn't think so; especially since history tells us we can't trust energy companies to do their job responsibly and safely.

My grandparents spend most of the year in the little village of Sharon Springs, about 3.5 hours away from New York City. My grandfather has been fighting with the rest of the town in the anti-hydrofracking movement since the moment the subject was brought up for debate. Last summer he told me that already, the next town over had given themselves over to hydrofracking. Once a hot spot-- literally, the town was known for bringing some (apparently) very sore, but very famous people up to its hot springs back in the day-- Sharon Springs hit a serious lull; but in recent years, the village has completely turned around and revamped its tourist industry. Not too far from the Glimmerglass Opera House, hundreds of people from all over the country come up north to spend relaxing weekend getaways in Sharon Springs, staying at local favorites like The American Hotel, sipping coffee from The Black Cat café, and buying goat's milk soaps and cheese made at The Fabulous Beekman Boys' farm. Hydrofracking not only poses a threat to the water supply, but in ripping up the ground and ruining the area's natural beauty, it risks destroying the positive economic growth this village has seen.

Environmental groups simply don't have nearly the amount of funds at their disposal as these gas companies and unfortunately haven't been able to pour the same large quantity of money into creating lobbying groups of their own. It's now up to Governor Cuomo to determine soon whether hydrofracking should be allowed. This is a classic case where the government has to decide between money and the welfare of millions of people.

I just hope that he hasn't been too influenced by the "fuel" fever that has infected other public officials in our government and that he makes the right decision for his citizens.

Please read the latest from The New York Times and more on hydrofracking.
Click here to "like" Sharon Springs' "anti-hydrofracking" Facebook page.

Update 12/1: Look at the comment I've posted below to read some more.

And a month later...

Admittedly I've truly been slacking off on the blog-front. Apologies to all those with such a keen interest in my activities down here in Buenos Aires. It's pretty hard to believe the semester is wrapping up in less than a month. I'm trying to not think about it.

Well, this past month (god, I really am pathetic at keeping up with el blog!) has been great. I've left the confines of the Argentine borders twice-- once to Rio (words seriously can't describe) and then to the small colonial town of Uruguay called... YEP you got... Colonia (like Colonial Williamsburg but sans reenactments and bonneted townspeople).

Hmmm what else? A ritzy polo match, a McDonald's-play-pen-but-for-hipsters-like art exhibit, an abortion-rights demonstration, a gorgeous sunset, a rain storm that broke the intolerable heat, a visit to an ex-torture camp, fresh-squeezed orange juice from underground subway vendors, a rose garden, a music performance at the Teatro Colón, and some skype conversations with my new dog, Scarlett. 

More to follow.

True Grit

Traveled 14 hours by bus to a wonderful land of all things marvelous: steak, gauchos, mountains, wine, parks, and olive oil. ¡Oh Mendoza! How lucky I was to ride horseback in your Andes; share steak around a campfire with new Swiss, Dutch, and Criollo amigos; get lost in your park that rivals the public gardens I always run around in Palermo; casually sip from Argentina's finest 16-peso ($4 USD!!!) bottle riverside with friends; (only a little bit) tune out during your vineyard/olive oil factory tours while waiting for the pass-out of samples (kind of like I'm doing right now in class-- minus the wine -- as I draft this blog post and simultaneously inspect the one dread lock hanging out the back of the head of the girl sitting in front of me. Why Argentines find these matted rat-tails attractive I will never understand); and finally, go paragliding (with an instructor strapped to my back-- don't worry), flying in, around, and above the mountains.

Yeah. That's what I did over the weekend. Not completely sure what could top all of that. And what was the most excellent conclusion to the trip, you ask? Watching Lady Gaga music videos on the 14-hour bus ride all the way back to Bs. As.

Getting ready for the "sunset" horseback ride.

Butch Cassidy. And the Sundance Kid.

COOL CLOUD. 

Cheesy pose in a gorgeous park.

Mount Fuji. (Not actually).

Dat's me on a horse!

Proof we did something cultural.

So Amelia Earhart right now.

View from above.

Some Andes encircling Mendoza City.

Doesn't this look like a postcard?

On a side note:

My new dog, Scarlett.

From the Lewie archive.
Maybe the real Scarlett won't need little red booties to protect her little paws.

Yes, she'll do just fine.

re: large cheeseburger nobody believes I ate

I actually did eat it.

Sweat beading on my forehead by the end of it, but it's true. 

Oh, and I also had fries with that:

Thank you, come again.

Llama-Time

I came back to Buenos Aires from northern province Jujuy (pronounced Hoo-hoo-ee) with a new obsession for all things llama: llama-woolen sweaters, sweaters with llamas on them, little mini llamas carved from pure NaCl found in the salty flat lands (Las Saltinas), tamales filled with llamas...you get the point.

I know llamas are not just about being soft and fuzzy; I've heard that they enjoy spitting on whomever/whenever they want. But since I luckily wasn't a victim, I've decided to overlook this minor detail. What's my only regret? Unfortunately since I haven't weighed 30 kilos (66 lbs) since I was six, I have to give up on my dream of riding on a llama's back up and down the region's multi-colored mountains. It's a dream about as hopeless as hanging out in the pouch of a kangaroo, which, as a kid, I hoped I would one day do...(actually I'm still holding out for this).

Huge digression. Enjoy the photos.

Red rocks.

¡Hot damn cacti!

Terrifying monument commemorating the indigenous people's independence.
Note ominous clouds rolling in.

Path running down the local cemetery.

Town cemetery; reminds me of Greece; quite different from Recoletta Cemetery.

Dirt road behind the scary statue.

Lovely little water bottle peaking through.

Gymnastics in Las Saltinas.  

We (mostly me) went a little wool-crazy in the store.
Lady wanted to kill us.

P.S. Just so EVERYONE now knows, Ani Zotti (anichampionoftheworld.blogspot.com) took the last photo. She wanted me to award her the credit she most definitely deserves.

A worthy cause.

Last Wednesday I got in on some activist action. I rallied with women in front of the Congreso building (translation: Congress building, for all you non-Spanish speakers, ahem Faja Fink), arguably one of the most beautiful buildings in Buenos Aires, to promote the government's legalization of abortion. Tons of people were there-- from the Casa del Encuentro, where I volunteer, to Pan y Rosas (Bread and Roses organization), and even a senator!: Maria Rachid, whom I mistakenly took her for just a normal woman, and, rather than thank for all the progressive reforms she pushes through to el Congreso, I admired the adorable baby girl sleeping in her arms...whoops?

Anyway my professor from the health class I'm taking at la UBA (U. of Buenos Aires) heads the Campaña Nacional Por el Derecho al Aborto Legal, Seguro, y Gratuito. She actually is one of the top founders of this movement so it was pretty cool to hear her speak.  According to the blog, "close to 500,000 women per year go through illegal abortions, and 3,000 of them have died because of them." This is why their slogan runs something like this (a literal translation really doesn't work too well): "Legal Abortion, a debt owed by the democracy." 

Here are some photos of the afternoon:

Beautiful day for a rally.

That's my teacher holding the mic: Elsa Schvartsman 

Some signs. Blue sky.

Sitting down in the middle of Avenida Entre Rios, in front of Congreso

The opposing force. What strength they show!

The next big rally is on November 1st! Show up if you can!

Lewie

There are no words to describe how much this dog meant to my family. A sage in his own right. For me, he always knew how I was feeling even when I couldn't find the words myself.
With the slightest shred of masculinity running through him, he will forever be my dad's "little man."
For my sister, he was someone she could look after.
And for my mom, Lewie was her baby that never grew up.

Oh Lewie, you really will be missed.

Can anything more really be said?

Classic.

First day home!

Baby Lewie.

Used to each other already.

Oh sophomore year.

Great outfit. Devoted dog walker.

Sunday morning stroll.

Regal.

Another classic.

Winter.

A little out of focus, but hey, he's usually the one holding the camera

Drying off after a rainy walk around the block.

Running through the fields.

Most recent email headline: Cutest dogs in the world.

12/17/2007-09/18/2011

Oh the things that you do...

To be as cheap as you possibly can:

At 20 years old, learn what you should have when you were 8: paint your own fingernails to avoid spending your precious pesos on a manicure.

Or…an even better tip:

Always wave a 100-peso bill in the ornery cashier’s face and I guarantee you that that latte you just ordered is FREE. In Argentina, it’s customary for people to refuse to open up the register to give you your change.

To feel better about yourself as a human being:

Be the chivalrous young person you should be and offer your seat to the old lady or man struggling to remain standing on the subway. The whole act still baffles me because it appears that in trying to be nice, you’re basically saying, “Hey you, you’re old and weak. Let me remind you that I am young and strong. Please sit down on this lightly padded subway bench, even though it could be possible that I, myself, am incredibly tired as well.” Insidiously offensive? Apparently not.

To be green:

Refuse to pay 10 pesos every time you need to quench your thirst. Recycle those water bottles and simultaneously poison yourself with the carcinogens lodged in the plastic.

To curb your hunger:

Go ahead, spend three pesos on a little box of tic tacs. Don’t think that you’re saving any money though. You are still so hungry that the next day you will have to go and get another 3-peso box from the kiosk on the corner. You might as well have purchased some Don Saturs to build up both your stores of potential energy and the new layer of blubber that has appeared right in time for spring in Argentina.

To feign comprehension:

In a foreign country, just make sure you know how to say, “yes” because it will probably be the only thing you can solidly say to another person to make them think that you understand what they are talking about. When the professor asks you at the end of her three-hour lecture if you got a lot out of the class, just nod your head, smile, say “si,” and run as fast as you can out of the building.

For love:

Expand your waistline as you treat yourself to the cheapest medialunas in Buenos Aires, but only so that in the process of passing the barista behind the counter your one peso, you can be as daring, awkward, and forward as you possibly can by also slipping into his hand a little piece of notebook paper with your number scribbled on it.

-----------------------------------

On this glorious day, I thought and/or accomplished these things…all while holding my very free and very delicious steaming latte from the Starbucks a few blocks away from my university.

Oh, the places (I'll) go? Looks like probably NOT!!! 

Across the Pacific.

Casually painting my nails and scrolling through this. I hope you do the same, minus the nail-painting. Well, you can do whatever you want except it's pretty impossible to really do anything else other than stare at these photos. Hence the nail polish all over my fingers.

Gotta love The Atlantic.

Tan-you-gotta-go!

I've decided that the most beautiful people in the world are the ones who know how to tango. Last Wednesday, my loquacious, know-no-boundaries-neighbor invited me to a small tango show around the corner from my house. The invite was an unnecessarily nice gesture, although admittedly I was a bit skeptical when I got to the little concert hall and I was the only person in the audience under 65. As un-ideal as the circumstances might appear (yes, I just made up that word), the whole thing proved to be quite enjoyable, and I’m particularly proud that not one part of me felt the urge to complain that there wasn’t really anyone my age to talk to. And no, the open-bar serving limitless quantities of fresh strawberry and peach daiquiris and Brazilian caipirinha wasn't what made the evening so incredibly great. The show finally got started three hours after the fact (immense technical difficulties in the beginning; they couldn’t get the stage lights figured out…and you’d think this wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but lighting is crucial to a tango show). It was definitely well worth the wait and the $25 entrance fee. It’s not only the passion that could get to any person in the audience—man or woman—it’s the tension between the two partners that has a presence you could throw a lasso around. The movement is complicated, yes. Could I ever do it? No. Do I want to learn? Of course. I do love dance, I totally wish I could dance, but only a few companies can ever really hold my attention, namely Alvin Ailey and his Revelations. Everyone who comes back from Buenos Aires always praises tango, and so I always understood it was something I “had” to do but now I can truly see why. So what’s the basic moral of this story? Listen to the guidebooks and get your butt to a milonga (tango place) ASAP.

From the a visit to the Boca; definitely not the same. But great Nike-swish pants, so had to share all the same. 

sticking it to the man

This past Saturday, I proved to a skeptic that I DO have the appetite similar to that of a small orca whale.

I proudly ingested this in approximately twelve minutes. All by myself, thank you very much.

Let the Sabor Cinco montage begin:

Note: more meaningful photos from Iguazu getaway to follow, when I feel like it.