Week 2 of my trip to other Americas began much like week 1, with a really shitty travel situation. Tracy and I began our flight from Rio to Buenos Aires with a flight to Sao Paulo which involved the captain practicing what felt like a Mario Kart-esque power slide but on an airplane. No me gusta. Then we get to Sao Paulo where we wait in a line to re-check in which took an eternity and we see that our already way too long layover has been delayed another 2 hours. The airport lines here are like little social gatherings...there's people with ice cream hanging out, groups of youths chilling by the conveyor belts, people taking pictures of each other getting their flight information, it's like this is all their first flights and they need to take it slow in order to truly enjoy the wonders that air travel has to offer.

After finally getting through the local hangout line, we wait at our gate, using the time to practice our rusty (or in my case non-existent) Spanish until we hear the flight to Buenos Aires starting to board. Upon handing over my ticket to happily get on the plane to take me away, we find out that this is the earlier flight to Buenos Aires and that ours hadn't come in yet, and there was no word yet on its arrival. So we wait another couple of hours until we finally are able to board OUR flight to Buenos Aires at 11pm (about 4 hours later than we intended). Now, if you read the previous post, you'll remember that I suffered from a pretty nasty sinus infection in Rio and for those who have never experienced a sinus infection on a flight, let me tell you that it is like the olympics of pain. During the entire decent I had the urge to wail like the infant sitting two seats behind because the pressure felt like my head was definitely going to explode.

We finally made it to Buenos Aires at about 1am and make our way to customs where we are greeted by an over-excited Argentinian customs agent who grabs us and goes "American!?!!". "Uh, yes" we reply as he quickly corrals us towards a station that has 4 other attendants stationed ready to service only Tracy and myself for what we had previously heard about the week before leaving the states: a visa fee. You see, because America charges a fee to Argentine people, they have decided to reciprocate the kindness and also charge us. So we knowingly get out our credit cards, and hand it over to our respective agents who then take way too long to figure out how to run my card and print out the fee, all the while, our greeter agent ran around like he was trying to man a NASA space launch. "Have they never done this before?" I thought in my head, while the greeter agent swooped back over to help the attendant helping Tracy. As if he heard my thoughts (or possibly saw my agitated face that was now filled with a pressurized combination of mucus and blood thanks to the plane ride), the agent looked at me and said "this is the first time we've done this, you are the first person to get a visa here".

So basically, what happened is that because my flight was delayed, I got the pleasure of arriving at 1am, an hour into the very first day they started this awesome visa program that in turn got me a giant, ugly-ass sticker on my passport for the low-low price of $131 USD. I take solace in the fact that I was number 1, and that the price is solely worth the story...sorry Tracy, being number 2 has to burn a little, I guess when you tell the story, you can change it to "we were the first" and leave it at that.

So, assuming our little nightmare is over, we head over to the real customs agents who, I'm not joking, takes another 30 minutes trying to scan the passport and the freshly minted visa to no avail. At about 2am, and being frustrated that she was still at work, the customs agent tells me she's fed up in the universal language of a shrug, eye-roll and head shake. And with a stamp-stamp, we make it out of there, grab our luggage, and take a taxi to our new apartment in the Palermo district of Buenos Aires. Anthony, who arrived earlier that day (or at this point; the previous day) let us in and told us his harrowing travel tale that involved: not having to pay a fee, meeting a friendly local who gave him a bunch of tips about the town, and getting a free ride to the apartment from someone who just wanted to help him out of the goodness of their heart. So, we say goodnight to the lucky SOB, and head off to bed to gear up for the week in Buenos Aires.

Day uhhh 1 or maybe 2 in BA depending on how you look at it, began by me waking up and waiting for Anthony and Tracy to make me a delicious breakfast that they had decided to make in our new kitchen.

We were hoping that our incoming roommates Nick and Marlo would be arriving soon but it seemed that they suffered from the same Latin America travel woes that I have now become accustomed to, and came in a little later than intended. Once they did, however, we headed to a different district called Recoleta so they could pay the apartment people and also so we could check out a different part of the city. We pay off the landlord and then make our way to the local cemetery filled with mausoleums which house several famous Argentinians including Evita (non-Madonna edition) and also a shit load of cats which roamed around as if they were they keepers of the dead. Oh and also signs that warned of Dengue fever which was no problem for me who took so many precautions that friends were hanging close to me to avoid their own Dengue demise.

After we get our fill of dead peoples' final resting places we head back and got ready for our night out which was fairly uneventful seeing how most or us were either unable to drink from a sinus infection (that's me) or just got off of a really long plane ride. Nick was doing a few sleep deprived head bobs which got me thinking that I should grab one of the hundreds of cats roaming the street and get it to play a keyboard for him while he passes out.

The next day Nick and I start with one of the only things I arranged on this trip: a urban running tour of Buenos Aires. The idea is that someone shows you around the town while you run, which to me is a fairly brilliant idea because I am a huge fan of both running and information and to combine the two is just fantastic. We met our tour guide, Alexis, a young college guy, who runs 6 times a week and who proceeded to take us around some of the better parts of our area while at the same time engaging us in conversations on local customs, politics and geography. We also ended up receiving a shirt and a bottle of water which made the whole thing a good value and completely worth what seemed an expensive rate.  It also came with pictures but they were all pretty terrible including the only one I'm going to include in the blog, just squint really hard, enjoy my tiny arms, then move on.

The rest of this day in my head is unbloggable because my infection only lead to more sadness and inabilities to go out, however the one point of interest was that I was able to walk into some random pharmacy and say basically the following things: antibioticos, nariz (Spanish for nose) and a few hand gestures to the face which enable me to receive medicine that would have involved at least an hour getting a doctors appointment and running to a pharmacy to do the same thing in the states.

Disclaimer: I am from now on writing from an iPod so please excuse any poor formatting, grammar, spelling or content issues....

On the third day I awoke determined to destroy the sinus infection no matter what. If I were at home I would have employed the use of a neti pot which is basically a plasticized cross between a tea pot and a genie's lamp (and performs an equal amount of magic). The idea is that you fill this magical contraption with salt water and then stick it up one nostril and tilt your head to the side. This forces the salt water through your sinus cavity and out the other nostril in a ultra satisfying gush. What appears on the other end, is the original salt water now combined with whatever has been lurking inside your head.

So armed with a picture of the neti pot on my cell phone and a few more key Spanish words like ollo (pot) and sal (salt) I headed out with Tracy who volunteered to help me on my mission, barring that breakfast and a trip to the modern art museum would be involved.

After enjoying a delicious egg breakfast at Cafe del Botanico just around the corner we head in to several pharmacies hoping that the pharmacists somehow watched the episode of Oprah that featured the magical contraption and carried a bountiful supply in their backroom. This might come as a surprise but something got lost in translation and we left several people a little more than confused on what this poor gringo needed. At one stop however, the man behind the counter showed me a bottle that has salt water in it and a little squeeze top that he gestured could be shoved up my nose to do what I wanted. This seemed plausible and so I grabbed one in hopes that it would be up to the task.

Antsy with anticipation, I run home stick the bottle in a nostril and squeeze...nothing, it was like spraying water at a brick wall and I could almost hear the infection inside laughing at me with a hearty "arh har har, that all ya got big guy?". So determined not to give up, and now pissed that my sinus infection used an ultra-annoying term of endearment when talking to me, I use my Swiss army knife to pull off the squeeze top and to cut a hole in the top to allow air pressure to force the water through. I deemed it the ghetto-pot but holy shit did it ever work. It blasted through that brick wall and what came out the other side could only be described if this were a horror blog or if I wanted to gross you out even more than I probably already have. The relief was so great that I was actually knocked back to the wall behind me where I slid down a little because I felt light headed.

Already feeling better, Tracy and I head to the Malba which is the modem art museum just up the street. It featured a Andy Warhol exhibit which was very well put together and especially interesting to us, seeing how we were Americans in Argentina looking at Argentinians viewing an American artist. Especially one who tried to capture, in his own special way, the sentiment of the country and of his rebel generation using very simplistic pop-art. The rest of the museum was interesting and well setup however the pieces themselves were hit or miss with a lot more misses than hits.

On our way back we hit up another pharmacy so I can get more ghetto pot supplies and a few coffee shops in search of a decent cup, to no avail (sorry Argentina but your coffee is no bueno) . We also headed into Freddo which is one of the city's premiere ice cream stores and let's just say that what this country lacks in coffee they make up in strides with their crazy delicious ice cream. I'm officially giving them the red ribbon in the world cup of ice cream, just barely losing out to the Italians and their gelato.

Once back at the apartment, I enjoy another ghetto pot and then decide that I'm going to do something I couldn't do since Rio; go out during the night! So Tracy gets her research on and finds a delicious small place called 1810 that serve these amazing cast iron pot creations such as the one I ordered which was a butternut squash based foodgasm. Oh and I got to finally enjoy a syrah from the San Juan region that not only could I taste but get this...smell!

Feeling a little happier, we head into the central area where we go to Club Museo which was designed by Gustavo Eiffel who also designed some no-name tower in Paris. We head through the metal detector and head inside where we were supposed to meet the rest of the group but felt that it was going to be a lost cause due to the lack of cellphones and considerable size of the place. As I was leaning over to tell Tracy "finding them will be a lost cause" I see a very tall blond guy heading towards us and I hear a very loud shriek which of course had to be Natadrew.

After giving ourselves a tour of the massive four story club we head down to the dance floor which had recently been cleared of the dinner tables that many Argentinian business people had been sitting. On my way to the more central dancing area I was grabbed by a group of ladies who are impressed by my ability to have blond hair and be tall and ask me where I'm from. Apparently answering Texas was correct because they then demanded a kiss for the upcoming new year. After spending some time spreading the lonestar love, I meet back up with the rest of the group and see that Natalie had been also chatting it up with some locals (but this time a group of caballeros) who were also trying to get some kisses from a true blooded American of the North variety. Later, upon learning that there was a Drew to the Natadrew, they made up for their blunder by giving Andrew kisses on the cheeks and jumping up and down with him, which I can only assume is an ancient South American apology dance. Whatever it was I couldn't stop laughing until we finally made it out to the cabbie outside who took us to a milonga which is basically a dance hall for (old) people to dance tango. Unfortunately, we had missed the lessons and so in order to avoid embarrassment, Tracy and I headed back home.

The next day I wake up feeling incredible and I decide to take a jog with Nick for a little exercise but also so we can scope out some places to go that night for new years eve. The jog through the Palermo Hollywood area was nice, but we had a difficult time locating any place that looked like it might have a good bash that we could partake in. Once back at the place we discuss our poor luck and just decide on a place that was advertising a good new years party online called Club 69. To celebrate this decision on our evening festivities, we pop three bottles of champagne and gave a few hearty saluds while Marlo found us some rockin jams from the early nineties. After our own mini party, we get the whole gang of ten together for a brunch on the rooftop of a trendy restaurant near our place. There we met a young couple from Michigan as well as a few more bottles of champagne and some good grub. The couple remarked toward the end that they don't even think they had this many friends, let alone enough who would want to travel to a different country together.

Once finished with our meal we head out to the streets but not before dealing with more than a handful of issues with our orders. I'm not totally sure who's to blame with the mix ups, but I'm going to venture a guess that it was most likely due to Anthony's interpretation of the Spanish language which is basically a composition of 25% Spanish, 10% French, 5% Portuguese and 100% confidence. No matter though, we figured it out in the end and then finished our afternoon with some shopping where I picked up a stripy, club shirt as well as a comfortable, euro-trash-esque shirt for crazy cheap thanks to the conversion rate.

We make it back to our respective apartments where some of us take siestas and others, like myself and Anthony, headed out to find some food and more champagne so we would be well stocked and energized for the night's activities. After everyone awoke and got cleaned up, we read the club's Internet information that made it seem like there would be a toast at midnight followed by dancing and general jeer to bring in the binary new year (01/01/10). So we head out around 10:45 in order to hopefully avoid the lines and when we get there we noticed that we indeed avoided any lines because the place was locked and closed and there wasn't a soul in site. We do some sluething and discover that actually the club doesn't open until 2am...since that is apparently the Buenos Aires way. Feeling defeated, we head around the corner and see that not just the club, but the whole neighborhood was a ghost town and we were in trouble if we wanted to salvage this night.

Remembering a few promising streets from the run earlier that morning I lead us to a place a little farther up and around another corner where we see this small oasis of a street corner with lights on three of the four corners. Two of them looked to be open bars and the third had the appearance of a convenience store. So we get closer and find that it indeed wasn't a mirage and in fact one of the bars is having a toast at midnight. Due to the slightly inflated prices at that bar, we decide to kill some time at the second bar while we wait for the Recoleta apartment dwellers to meet us up. We ordered some of the best long island ice teas I have ever tasted and enjoyed the fairly tame atmosphere (at least for new years) until we see Natalie coming at us from the doors. The place was a little crowded to contain us all so a few people headed across the way to the convenience store to purchase a few champagne bottles so we could do a little street partying before midnight. Sensing the impending midnight hour we all head up to the rooftop of the first bar that promised a good toast and bought one of their bottles which apparently also included a few noise toys, party hats and other random bits. We drank the first bottle quickly and then pulled the old switch-a-roo on them with one of our way cheaper convenience store bottles so we had something to toast when the clock struck twelve o'clock. Well the new year came and we all raised our glasses, finished our drinks, danced around like idiots before we decide to head back to the street to continue the party we started earlier. We had about two hours to kill before the club opened so we kind of just hung out there for an hour and gained a few friends that were also interested in our planned evening festivities.

At about 1am, we lead our new convoy of random people to the club where we find another group of street partiers also waiting for the club to open. There I met the ladies from Barcelona, the model-esque couple from Canada, the German looking Brazilians as well as a bunch of others who for some reason I can't remember at this point.

Around 2am a line starts to form by the club so we head over and make sure to secure our place on the dance floor that beckoned inside. Four hours later, and more Red Bull than I care to drink in an entire year, we decide that we had partied enough and head out to the streets that are now bathed in the morning sunlight. What was crazy is that this area, which was completely dead at 11pm was now the host of a huge street dance party complete with a street DJ and makeshift stages for people to dance on. As we start the long walk back to the apartment we notice that the walk of shame is not really shameful here since you are travelling with a huge group of other party goers stumbling back to their places. We make a much needed stop at Kentucky Pizza (no lie, that's what it's called) to consume something that wasn't alcohol or energy drinks. After which we go home and crash.

Happy New Year! I'm hungover! I have only slept a few hours and feel like crap. I can sum up this day in about three sentences. I went and got food that was crappy, then went to Chinatown, which was small and crappy and ate Chinese food that was actually kind of decent. I salvaged the day by hitting up another ice cream joint Persisco which is a competitor of Freddo even though it tastes exactly the same in my opinion. Then I went to bed...what a great start to 2010.

I slept like a rock and woke up feeling very refreshed and ready to take on a day of site-seeing. We start by meeting up with what was left of the group (minus Nick and Marlo who opted for a bit more sleep since they had already seen some of the sites we were going to see). The rest of us head into La Boca which is a small neighborhood with bright colorful buildings set behind a slew of street vendors and artists selling their wares. I picked some souvenirs up for some family members and some Quillness beer for myself.

After having our fill there we head into the newer area of Buenos Aires called Puerto Madero where we met back up with Nick and Marlo for a drink and some snacks. The area was fairly dull but I could see why it is the new place to be with it's prime location on the river. After that, we hit up the obelisk that is featured in many photos of the city and have a cocktail at a nearby cafe.

Then it was back to the apartment to get ready for our big Argentine steak night that we had planned.  When we got to the restaurant however, the place was full and booked for the next three days. So we head around the corner to another steak house that was able to seat us in a relatively short amount of time. There was a reason for this however which we would only find out later because the food was sub-par especially for what we had built up in our heads on what Argentinian beef should taste like.  Oh well, luckily the wine made up for any lack of juiciness, thickness and flavor in the steak.

I'm not sure if it was that wine or that we were becoming accustomed to the Buenos Aires way of life, but after dinner we all decided to hit up Pacha, another night club. This one was particularly nice since it was situated right on the ocean and featured a nice rooftop area for us to chill and lookout on the dancers below.

I was able to pick out a few key dancers who were a blast to watch and they were able to carry me through to the early morning hours. This time we had the extra bonus of actually watching the sun rise over the sea with the beautiful techno background music to really put you at a sense of ease and relaxation.

At about 6am, we decide to call it an evening and head to a cab, on the way, we step on a floor that at this point consisted of 80% empty energy drink and beer cans and 20% sweat.

The next day was our last in this town, so we try to make the best of it even though we were all pretty tired. Tracy and I stop into the Cafe del Botanico for one last breakfast in our favorite little corner table on the street. We then make it to the San Telmo market which is basically a huge market that opens on the streets on Sundays and features a lot of local artists, antiques, and random things that you can buy for fairly decent prices. The place was packed as hundreds of people lined this one main street and variety of tiny stores.

After picking up a few more souvenirs, we head back to the apartment to get cleaned up and ready for our last, and probably one of the most important activity in Argentina: tango lessons.  We ended up back at the same milonga we had tried going to earlier that week but this time we got there right in time for the lessons. Tango turned out to be fairly easy to learn the basic maneuvers, however making it look right is pretty difficult. Tracy and I did pretty good, however I'm pretty sure I made it close to impossible for her with my long strides. I even got in trouble for them, as this old, tango-cougar grabbed me and yelled at me in spanish for taking the huge strides and for not leading hard enough. It was really fun though, and I'm pretty sure we showed up Nick and Marlo which was also at the top of my list of things to do in Buenos Aires. On our way home, we hit up Freddo one more time for some ice cream before saying our final buenos noches to Buenos Aires. Tomorrow, Tracy and I hit up Santiago, Chile to take in the sites, sounds and most importantly, wine that the country has to offer.

Hasta luego, Argentina.

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