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Normally when I think of camping I think of sleeping in a tent in the woods. I also think of hamburgers, hotdogs, and maybe some baked beans. After going camping in Argentina, I don't know what to think anymore.
San Pedro is about two hours outside capital federal. It’s a popular weekend destination for Porteños that are looking for a quick escape from urban life. When we arrived in San Pedro, we found an old fisherman named Molina that shuttled us out to our campsite. H
e drove us out about 15 minutes in his fishing boat that barely held the five of us and all of our supplies for the weekend. We set up our tents on the riverbank and built a fire. Of 
course we had beef for every meal. We brought a bag full of all different parts of the cow. Everything tasted good, so I didn’t ask what I was eating. We spent our days learning Argentine card games and swimming, and our nights eating and drinking around the campfire. After a few glasses of wine, we found that singing passed the time quite nicely. Surprisingly, the guys were much more into it than we were. In typical Argentine fashion, they sang tango and national anthems. We sang hits from the ‘90s.
Of course camping wouldn’t be complete without the presence of wild animals. A few times a day, a herd of cattle would come to graze near our campsite. Actually, the first morning 
I woke up to the sound of a cow feeding on some grass about a foot away from our tent. It was strange but I guess that cows are better than lions and tigers and bears! Oh My!
Who knew that Thanksgiving was the fourth Thursday in November and not the third? We certainly didn't. My roommates and I planned to cook a grand Thanksgiving feast and then have our TEFL classmates over for drinks afterwards. This idea did not go over too well with everyone else because they did not want to miss out on turkey and stuffing. So, we decided to invite everyone for a potluck style dinner. Unfortunately, two days before Thanksgiving, someone pointed out that we were a week early and that Thanksgiving was in fact next week.
The morning of the real Thanksgiving, Lisa and I ventured off in search of a turkey. We had to go to this supersized grocery store called JUMBO to find one. We bought the biggest turkey they had, which was still the smallest one that I had ever seen. It cost 70 pesos ($20), but it was worth it. We desperately searched for cranberries in any form, but apparently they don't exist in Latin America.
We googled "How to Cook a Thanksgiving
Turkey" and used the resulting webpages as a guide for the day. Since our turkey was frozen and there wasn't enough time for it to thaw in the fridge or cold water, we had to microwave it. After about 40 minutes, the microwave shut off. The lights did too.
We went out on the balcony to contemplate if Thanksgiving could still happen without electricity. The air was filled with nervous energy and panic. We could hear protesters banging pots and pans on the next block. They had been without electricity for 72 hours. We tried to call off our party, but our friends had already prepared their dishes and were too excited to give up their Thanksgiving. All of the stores within walking distance were out of candles, but we had one flashlight. We had to lead each gue
st up five floors through a dark stairwell to our apartment. Once we got all of the food together, we decided to eat outside on the patio by the pool. The turkey turned out perfectly, even without electricity or a meat thermometer! We had stuffing, mashed potatoes, salad, and probably 3 or 4 different pies. It was a grand feast! Our Argentine friends were so intrigued by all of the food, especially the Salad. I caught a picture of them inspecting the spinach salad. They thought that it was so strange that we ate raw spinach!
I have been so jealous of of how distinctive Argentine culture is, and it has often made me sad that the U.S. seems to lack any sort of unifying culture. Well, this Thanksgiving I am thankful for Thanksgiving. Americans have traditions too!
San Antonio de Areco is a small town about 100 km from BA in the region of Las Pampas (the plains). Every November they hold a gaucho festival called "La Fiesta de la Tradición." We had read about this 
event in guide books and didn't want to miss it, but we couldn't figure out transportation to get there. Luckily, on Friday night I met a nice Argentine that offered to take my friends and me to the festival even though it's a little touristy. He picked us up at 9am yesterday and we headed out to the countryside. We stopped at an enormous church on the way called "La Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Luján." We were told to beware of pickpockets inside the church. Inside, Juan Pablo pointed out the security guards stationed at the altar to guard the altarpieces that were made of precious metals. It blew my mind that thievery inside a church was such so common! Another interesting fact that Juan Pablo told us was that everyone who buys a car in BA comes to Luján to get their keys blessed in a special ceremony. After about 45 more minutes of driving through grasslands of cows, horses, and sheep, we arrived in San Antonio. The cobblestoned streets were filled with gaucho men & women on horseback. The men wore berets, white shirts, and red scarves tied around their necks, 
while the women wore traditional style dresses. I couldn't help thinking how miserably hot they all must be. The horses were speckled white and brown and were much smaller than any other horses I've seen. This particular breed exists only in this region of Argentina and in Chile. Wind pipe music made the scene feel even more authentic, until we listened closely and realized the musicians in feather headdresses were playing "Sound of Silence." We had an amazing lunch in a "Pulpería" (traditional bar) that had walls adorned with old signs, cerveza ads, and thousands of old bottles. Although the decor was authentic and much more tasteful, it reminded me of a fancy cracker barrel.
Since we are all currently unemployed, our days are finally free to roam around the city like a regular tourist. The problem is, however, that our days are cut short when we wake up at 2:00 each afternoon. Even if we're not partying until 6am, it just doesn't feel right to go to bed early, especially after eating dinner at 10 or 11. Also, once I'm in bed, I've got my earplugs in and my eyemask on, so I can sleep through anything! Well, on Wednesday, we finally got ourselves up and moving and out of the house by 2:00. Our motivation was to save 10 pesos by getting into MALBA (Museo de Arte Latinamericano de Buenos Aires) for free. We hopped on the metro for a short ride to Plaza Italia. On my map of Palmero, everything is colored green after this plaza. I had been looking forward to strolling through the "Palermo Woods" for awhile now. Well, for the first 15 minutes or so, we did not breathe in the fragrant aromas of flowers and freshly cut grass, but instead the pungent smells of dirty animals and excrement. We were walking the border of the Buenos Aires zoo. I don't have any desire to see what it smells like inside those walls. As we got closer to MALBA, the air began
to clear and the traffic noise faded into the distance. We passed a few people sunning themselves on park benches and a shirtless man with red leathery skin carrying a lounge chair. Rollerbladers zoomed past us and we dodged children learning how to ride bikes for the first time. It felt like we were at the beach. There were tons of Argentines laying out on the shore of a nice-sized lake or picknicking with family in the shade of the giant palm trees. The rosedal, an enormous rose garden enclosed by white columns, offers a pleasing backdrop to the water. We'll have to go back to the Rosedal to learn more about it. MALBA is the city's newest museum, which you could tell by its modern facade made of glass. There are four stories, so we started at the top and worked our way down. The top floor was the temporary exhibit by Felix Gonzalez-Torres called Somewhere/Nowhere. When we first entered the gallery, I was startled to see people touching one of the pieces in the corner. I approached them and saw that the corner was stuffed with red, white, and blue lollipops. Everyone that passed took one or two and no one seemed to mind. As I looked ar
ound the gallery, I noticed various stacks of paper and people taking from those as they pleased as well. Everyone seemed to be incredibly attracted to the free items, even though they were just plain sheets of paper with one solid color on them. I had a lollipop. The rest of the museum was more interesting. There was a Frida Kahlo self-portrait, a Diego Rivera painting, and some other works by 20th century artists. I wasn't as impressed as I thought I would be, especially since MALBA is supposed to be BA's best museum, but I still enjoyed seeing art. On the way back, we strolled through the Japanese Garden (Jardin Japones). It was definitely the most peaceful part of the city, perhaps rivaling the Recoleta cemetary where Evita is burried. Little red bridges hover above the lake and link rocky islands and circling pagodas. My only complaints is that the water was almost filled to the brim with the biggest fish I've ever seen with huge mouths sucking at the surface. Walking above them on the rickety bridges made me fearful of falling in and being eaten alive by these things. When we got back to the apartment, I felt refreshed after a day of being immersed in nature and art in the middle of bustling Buenos Aires.
Before leaving TEFL, our instructor, Keager, told us that if we do one thing in Buen
os Aires, it has to be to go to "La Bomba de Tiempo." Last night was our first time going. Within the first couple of minutes of stepping into the outdoor arena, we knew that we had found our element. The place was crowded with hippies and people our age. Everyone was just chilling out, drinking huge beers and smoking joints. After waiting for about an hour, the band finally came down the stairs in orange jumpsuits and took their places in front of 
different percussion instruments. As soon as they started playing, the crowd sprang to their feet and started moving to the beat of the drums. As the night went on, the intensity of the drumming grew stronger, and the dancing more rigorous. It was the best time I've had in Buenos Aires thus far. In the middle of the show, Lisa screamed over the music, "This is why I came to South America!!" We all agreed. You couldn't find this in anywhere else. We vowed to go every Monday.
listen: http://www.myspace.com/labombadetiempopercusion
La Feria de San Telmo
(the ghetto), making it somewhat dangerous at night. My friends learned this the hard way when they were walking back to their apartment one night and got robbed at gunpoint. They were only a block away from their apartment. Needless to say, they were eager to move out of San Telmo and into the more affluent neighborhoods of Palermo and Recoleta. Palermo is the largest and greenest barrio in the city. A couple of days after I arrived in the city, my “madre” took me out to the “hipódromo,” the racetrack in Palermo. On the way there, I was fascinated by all of the parks and gardens on the right side of the cab. They seemed to go on for miles until they finally fell into the shadows of luminous racing complex. Las Cañitas is the super trendy area of Palermo across from the Hipódromo and next to the polo fields. Although any part of 
Palermo would do, this was the area in which I wanted to live. Well, finding a cheap three-person apartment in Las Cañitas is not easy. My roommates and I spent hours in front of the computer searching various websites for apartments that could meet our needs. I still can’t believe that we managed to find one for under $1000 a month. It consists of two rooms and a kitchen. Sarah and Carly share the bedroom while I sleep on the sofa bed in the other room. Even though it seems like I got the shaft, I actually got first pick of beds because I found the apartment. Little did I know that all of the noise from tenants going in and out of the building would be channeled down the stone corridor to my room. The door to our apartment building is a heavy glass door that makes a loud clanking sound when it shuts. The tiled floors in the hallway are perfect for carrying the echo of the door slamming directly into my room. I need to buy earplugs. I already have to wear an eye mask because of how bright it is in my room (and I’m usually going to bed right when the sun is coming up!). Someone should be coming to fix the blinds this week. The reason my room is so bright is because it has two large sliding glass doors that open up onto the patio. Since we’re on the ground floor, we get to have a huge patio instead of just a standard balcony. This makes all of the difference in the world and I know that I could not live here without it. It is where we spend all of our time. 
It has a table with four chairs as well as a lounge chair for sun bathing! It’s walls are covered with ivy and there’s a few potted plants and palm trees, which has led to our calling it “La Selva,” the jungle. We all love the patio so much. It’s so refreshing to have private access to the outdoors in the middle of the city.
Yesterday was Mother’s Day, or “El Día de la Mamá.” All week I had noticed neon-colored advertisements in store windows along Avenida Santa Fe offering “10% descuentos para tu mama” or simply saying “gracias má!” Since it was Sunday, however, all of the store on Santa Fe were closed and the streets were rather tranquil. The first time that I saw Santa Fe was on a Sunday. Greg and I were up on the roof enjoying the sunset over the city while looking down onto the large Avenida Santa Fe below. Greg had commented that it was weird that I got to see Santa Fe on a Sunday. When I aksed why, he said, “you’ll see tomorrow.” It was true, the next morning, the sidewalks of Avenida Santa Fe were bursting with people. I quickly understood why Greg said that he always avoided walking on Santa Fe if he had to get somewhere. Not only were there tons of people, but they were also extremely slow-moving. The stores along Santa Fe usually run in an order of Pharmacy, shoe store, shoe store, clothing store, café, shoe store. No matter what the store is selling, the people on Santa Fe seem to be interested in it. Thus, the sidewalks of Santa Fe are crowded with window-shoppers. Like in Spain, the stores in Buenos Aires put every single item that they sell on display in their store windows. I get such a kick out of these elaborate displays. The best ones are the hardware stores where they manage to cram all of the screws and nails that they carry in all shapes and sizes into the store window. It makes it all look so junky, but I guess that the advantage is that you never have to go into the store until you are ready to buy. The disadvantage, for me, however, is that the street I live on is flooded with people browsing through the available merchandise. Whether it be different cheeses, bras, high heels, books, or light bulbs, most people stop to have a look at it. Meanwhile, there I am on weekdays speed-walking past the slow-movers while dodging kioskos and trying not to run into little old ladies that randomly pause in front of shoe stores.
Sundays are the days that this bustling Avenida can take a breath. Its stores are closed and its streets are relatively quiet. When I passed two men carrying flowers on the way to the Subway, I smiled. It was mother's day. I began to notice more and more families that were out celebrating the day with their mamás. The holiday seemed to unify the population of Buenos Aires. The people in the subway station were not rushing in all different directions to various work places, but instead they were making a relaxed communte to their mother's house. Even though I couldn't celebrate Mother's Day with my mommy, I was still warmed by the love of the porteños around me. I finally felt like I was a part of something in this enormous city.
Normally when I think of camping I think of sleeping in a tent in the woods. I also think of hamburgers, hotdogs, and maybe some baked beans. After going camping in Argentina, I don't know what to think anymore.
e drove us out about 15 minutes in his fishing boat that barely held the five of us and all of our supplies for the weekend. We set up our tents on the riverbank and built a fire. Of 
course we had beef for every meal. We brought a bag full of all different parts of the cow. Everything tasted good, so I didn’t ask what I was eating. We spent our days learning Argentine card games and swimming, and our nights eating and drinking around the campfire. After a few glasses of wine, we found that singing passed the time quite nicely. Surprisingly, the guys were much more into it than we were. In typical Argentine fashion, they sang tango and national anthems. We sang hits from the ‘90s.
Of course camping wouldn’t be complete without the presence of wild animals. A few times a day, a herd of cattle would come to graze near our campsite. Actually, the first morning 
I woke up to the sound of a cow feeding on some grass about a foot away from our tent. It was strange but I guess that cows are better than lions and tigers and bears! Oh My!
