This public hygiene oxymoron is pictured to the left — they are the green and pink egg-shaped items suspended over the sinks on metal bars. The first time that we encountered these in a public restroom, none of us could figure out what they were (it’s as if the girls and I mentally erased their existence) and we proceeded to search high and low for the soap. I’m not sure upon whom it finally dawned that we were supposed to rub our hands on the Easter egg hanging over the sink!
Christmas at the estancia really started on Christmas Eve, which is the important day here in Argentina.
As Papa Noel was flying around the world delivering presents, we were erecting our Christmas tree that Fred Johnson sent to me before we left Buenos Aires. The girls and I had a ball putting it together. Of course, it called for craft glue to attach the ornaments and the snow drifts to the tree. Surprisingly enough, I don’t travel with my hot glue gun, so we improvised and used some athletic adhesive tape. We grew quite fond of this little tree, although the girls were somewhat concerned about presents fitting under it!
We took our tree to Christmas Eve dinner, which featured suckling pig (pictured below on the parilla — Zoe had a heart attack because she saw them butterflying the pigs whole). We had singers entertaining us during the meal, they lit off some fireworks afterwords, and then, past midnight, the Argentinian kids opened their presents. Everyone young and old partied into the night.
We, on the other hand, went to bed. When we got up in the morning, the Zs were delighted to discover that Santa was able to locate us. He used the Christmas socks that Fred sent us as stockings and there were presents around our little foam tree. It was a lovely, simple Christmas that we all enjoyed. (And a big thanks to Fred Johnson for all of our Christmas accoutrement).
QUIRK: Garbage Cans. Why is it that every cabin and every hotel room that I’ve stayed in has only one garbage can located in the bathroom; and why is said garbage can so tiny that you can fit exactly nothing in it; and, why does this garbage can have a lid with a rotating top that cannot function if there is actually any garbage in the bin?
QUALITY: Dulce de Leche…for breakfast…I mean caramel in the morning, does it get any better than that?
QUIRK: Flash Web Animation. In planning our two months of traveling this summer, we surfed a lot of sites from all over the country, and it seemed that EVERY site used the same Web designer because they all had a flash splash page that took forever to load and featured background music that could not be turned off.
QUALITY: Everyplace that we have traveled in the campo has had fabulous neighborhood dogs that kept the girls occupied for hours.
QUIRK: Maps with No North. We have noticed that in Argentina, maps are often displayed with an eye toward a pleasing layout and often do not have any indication of which way is north! Of one thing you can be certain though, north is not at the top of the page.
QUALITY: You can sit in a cafe for absolutely ever, sipping on agua or cafe con leche, and the waitstaff will never try and roust you out of your seat. (We truly tested this in Cordoba where we encamped at a cafe for 6 or 7 hours during our layover. At one point, we had two computers plugged in, running movies which four of us were watching on headphones with Y adaptors…no problem!)
I had no idea that picking up a package in Baires would be so complicated!
Upon arriving at the central post office, the whole Offermann-Reeves clan entered a smallish room with postal clerks and a waiting area, where we took a number. When our turn arrived, we submitted our package delivery notice to the clerk, who had me sign it. She then tapped on the computer, ripped some stuff, and handed me a stub that contained a circled 6-digit package number.
Next, we were motioned into another larger waiting area. Clutching our stub, we all filed into a room that was dominated by row upon row of seated customers listening to low-quality loudspeakers blaring numbers.
We were to sit in this room waiting for our package number to be called for what they projected could be anywhere from 5 to 30 minutes.
Being on standby, anticipating our number, was uber nerve wracking. There was no board displaying the package numbers that already had been called, and when the digits were spoken over the loud speakers, they were nearly indistinguishable.
Finally, after about 15 to 20 minutes, our package came up. It was in my name, so I got to walk to the end of the room, go through a random turn style, and pass through an unmarked door. (That’s where everyone else went, so I did too.) This door led me to a small antechamber that had another unmarked door to my left, which I walked through.
I was now in the bowels of the post office. The belly of the beast was host to tons of people, and I was a bit overwhelmed. Customs work stations, postal employees retrieving packages, customers waiting for packages…had they come through the unmarked doors even though their number hadn’t been called?
After collecting my bundle of joy, I had to walk to another small area near the exit, where I scribbled my signature alongside my package number on xeroxed forms spread about on a table (very official).
That was it! I emerged, triumphant, package in hand, to the cheers of my family. Seriously, Tom said it felt a little weird to see me walk through the unmarked door…he couldn’t help but wonder if I was ever to return!
(The fruits of our labor? Receiving a fab smattering of stuffers from the stocking master, Fred Johnson!)
Tom has noticed that when he takes the girls to school on Monday morning, he can nearly always find a seat for all three of them on the bus.
Why? Because the hard living, non-sleeping Porteños have had their ass kicked by the Argentine schedule (stay up late/get up early). By Monday, almost everyone is calling in sick, or late for work, thereby freeing up valuable seating on the bus!
The poor stragglers who do manage to drag themselves to the bus on time Monday morning usually look like hell and sleep during their commute.
Actually, the evidence of the tough weekend is visible by Sunday morning, when the city is a ghost town until about 2:00 p.m. Pictured above is Las Heras, a nearby busy street, at roughly the same time mid-day on a weekday and on Sunday.
Motorcycle/Scooter helmet law in Baires requires that you have a helmet on your person, but you don’t necessarily have to wear it on your head! I know…weird.
Generally, you see these permutations:
Ian has a friend who wears his helmet properly, and when Ian asked why, his friend said, “Because it’s more comfortable than wearing it on my arm!”
(Sure, we’ve talked about the coin shortage crisis a few times before, but here are a couple examples of how it affects me every day. — Tom)
To get to school every morning, the girls and I take the bus, which only accepts coins. So, everyday I have to figure out how to get more coins. One strategy I tried, when I happened to take the subway, was to forgo using the convenient subway card and actually stand in line to pay for a single fare ticket. A huge pain, but in exchange for a 2 peso bill, I would pay my fare and receive a precious $1.10 in coins.
Problem solved, right? Well, not exactly. The clerk at the subway stop I most often frequent stopped selling me single fare tickets. I would show my 2 peso bill and ask for 1 ticket, and he would say “no monedas” and wave me through the gate for free. Every day, the same thing would happen. Same clerk. Same 2 peso bill. No coins, and he would wave me through for free. This went on for 2 weeks.
You would think that I’d be pretty happy about this, but actually, it infuriated me. I don’t want to ride the subway for free…I really want the coins instead!
Paying cash at the supermarket can be glacial. They keep very few coins in the cash registers, so every time they run out of coins, the checkout clerk has to call for a manager, who has to go to the safe to get more coins, who then exchanges 2 pesos worth of coins for a 2 peso bill. Yes, that’s right…they restock the coins in the register with the equivalent of 60 US cents at a time!
Ian and his fellow drum ensemble members made their performance and directorial debut on Monday, opening for the very popular La Bomba de Tiempo drumming concert that happens every Monday.
Ian kissed the Zs before going up to direct, which enamored him to everyone in the crowd. I must admit, I found myself with a tear in my eye as I looked on in admiration — it’s not easy to put yourself out there as a performer, especially when you are a 39-year old just beginning to learn your craft. He was fab, the group was able to follow his direction cleanly and crisply, and his directing was quite creative and engaging!
PHOTO GUIDE: Top photo is an Ian’s-eye view while he directs; two left is Ian directing; and, one left is Ian on the congas (in the center, and you can just make out the Zs). (Click to Enlarge Photos)
At first blush, juice may seem to be an odd topic for a blog post. However, when you have kids, juice and juice boxes are an important part of your life. And, here in Argentina, it is fraught with challenge.
We try to pump the kids full of water and milk in terms of general beverages. We also allow them a bit of juice, which we are finding most difficult as boxed juices are generally filled with high fructose corn syrup and/or soy.
Yes, you read correctly, soy. A lot of the juice boxes are fortified with soy, so the juice tastes…well, like soy, and it has a milky appearance.
Needless to say, the soy juice is not popular with the girls!
Luckily, there are alternatives. Fresh squeezed orange juice is very big here, and easily accessible in nearly every restaurant and cafe. The display of squeezing oranges is bigger than the display of peeling oranges at the grocery store. Licuados are also widely available at restaurants, which are milk, banana, and berry type smoothies. At home, we juice our own oranges and make our own licuados, but that doesn’t solve the box of juice at school dilemma.
And, on a “juice” non sequitur, the Castellano way to indicate that you would like your steak cooked rare (which will probably come back medium!) is “jugoso,” or “juicy!”
You want proof that people in Buenos Aires are insanely fabulous? Well read on…
Amaranta, the restaurant where we broke bread for “El Dia de la Accion de Gracias,” or Thanksgiving, is a weekly brunch haunt for Tom, Ian and me.
While perusing the Thanksgiving menu during one such brunch visit, we mentioned that our kids had nut allergies (always a concern with stuffings) and wanted to clear the turkey dinner for the Zs, well technically, I guess just for Zelda. Anyway, the owner of the restaurant kindly assured us that there were no nuts in any of the main courses.
We noted to ourselves that there were nuts in the pies and we just figured that we would avoid those for Zelda.
Well, we began our Thanksgiving meal at the restaurant and learned that, completely of their own volition, they had prepared one of each pie in a nut free version just for the girls. (I nearly fell out of my chair.) And, if that doesn’t make your eyes mist, they had prepared a special holiday gift bread for everyone as we left the restaurant; and because the traditional version contained nuts, they made a special chocolate bread just for the girls.
I am often surprised and warmed by the true kindness to be found in this vast metropolis.
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