We've been here eleven days and you have every right to ask, where are the tales of exciting adventure in a foreign land? Of memorable encounters with fascinating locals? Of long nights into early mornings of dining and dancing?
I'm asking the same question. The problem is somos ni turistas ni porteños, we are neither tourists nor natives.
We first visited Buenos Aires in 2006, a few months before we retired, and have come back for a month every year since. This is our third year in this very apartment, so we're on a first-name basis with los porteros, the doormen, of our building. We know the layouts of the nearest Disco and Carrefour supermarkets and can go directly to the correct aisle and shelf to get what we need.
We're taking Spanish lessons, again, from the same teacher as last year, Marco, a young university student. His classroom is in his Palermo apartment, 1.7 miles or 40 minutes away, and we walk there and back. We've tried every possible route and know most of the shops and restaurants along the way.
As familiar as we now are with life in Buenos Aires, we are still very much outsiders. Our Spanish is minimal and halting: our portero Victoriano has to speak very slowly when explaining the day's machinations of Argentine politics. This is a short-term rental apartment; we miss our own appliances and cookware, and don't bother buying oil and spices. We're not sure how to cook the interesting cuts of meat in the market.
I am a tourist -- I still love to walk around, enjoying the street scene and admiring the architecture, camera always in hand. I am a local -- while I walk I grumble about the dog poop and broken sidewalks, and don't take nearly as many snaps because I've seen it so many times before.
So what are we? Refugees with credit cards in no hurry to return home? Visitors too jaded to admire yet another beautiful belle époque building? If I figure it out, I'll let you know. Until then, here's my snaps so far. There's dogs and a penguin, people sitting in parks and crossing the street, and a short movie of a rainy day.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Buenos Aires, mas caro
We started coming to Argentina in 2006, and have come down for a month each year since. There are many reasons why we do this: it's late winter here, the off-season, while Texas swelters. Buenos Aires is a cosmopolitan city with lots of museums and events, easy public transportation, many parks and plazas, and beautiful architecture. We study Spanish, wrestling with the language and the distinctive Argentine accent. Airline tickets are expensive ($1,000 to $1,200 or more), but we've always been able to use our frequent flyer miles to fly for free. The food and wine, while not comparable to Italy or Spain (what food is?), are satisfying.
In the past, Buenos Aires had a further allure: estaba barato, it was cheap. Each year we saw prices creep up a little, but always they were cheap.
No more. Inflation has accelerated to the point that trips to the supermarket show prices similar to those in the U.S.: a pound of decent coffee is $12, a small package of sliced cheese $3, a quart of milk more than $1. A loaf of Fargo bread is about $3.50, more than a loaf of Oroweat at Super Target in Fort Worth. Norton Clasico, a simple but tasty red table wine, used to be $2.25 but is now pushing $4. A big lunch of meat and beer that was $12 in 2008 is almost $25. Empanadas are over $1 each. The smallest ice cream cone at Freddo or Volta is $3. (Just to be clear, those prices are in equivalent U.S. dollars, not pesos. The current exchange rate is about A$3.94 to US$1.)
A year ago, ATMs here started charging a $3 fee. (Before that, they were free, like those in Europe.) Now the fee is $4. (Fortunately, our Schwab and Fidelity debit cards rebate all ATM fees.)
We want to go see a soccer game, preferably Boca Juniors at La Bombonera, but that will set us back US $150 to $200 per person. Less popular games at less famous stadiums are as low as $100 per person.
Argentina has long had an exit tax, around $30. In late 2009 they added a 'visa reciprocity fee' of $140 per person, payable at Ezeiza airport upon arrival. It's good for ten years, but casual U.S. tourists now have to pay almost $200 just to get into and out of the country.
None of this is outrageous, certainly not high enough to discourage us from visiting. The cost of our apartment rental is the same as three years ago, and the colectivos (buses) are still A$1.20 (about 30 cents U.S.).
The plazas and museums are as pleasant as ever, the people just as friendly even if a bit poorer, and the buildings still beautiful. Come and enjoy Buenos Aires, as we do, but be prepared to pay.
In the past, Buenos Aires had a further allure: estaba barato, it was cheap. Each year we saw prices creep up a little, but always they were cheap.
No more. Inflation has accelerated to the point that trips to the supermarket show prices similar to those in the U.S.: a pound of decent coffee is $12, a small package of sliced cheese $3, a quart of milk more than $1. A loaf of Fargo bread is about $3.50, more than a loaf of Oroweat at Super Target in Fort Worth. Norton Clasico, a simple but tasty red table wine, used to be $2.25 but is now pushing $4. A big lunch of meat and beer that was $12 in 2008 is almost $25. Empanadas are over $1 each. The smallest ice cream cone at Freddo or Volta is $3. (Just to be clear, those prices are in equivalent U.S. dollars, not pesos. The current exchange rate is about A$3.94 to US$1.)
A year ago, ATMs here started charging a $3 fee. (Before that, they were free, like those in Europe.) Now the fee is $4. (Fortunately, our Schwab and Fidelity debit cards rebate all ATM fees.)
We want to go see a soccer game, preferably Boca Juniors at La Bombonera, but that will set us back US $150 to $200 per person. Less popular games at less famous stadiums are as low as $100 per person.
Argentina has long had an exit tax, around $30. In late 2009 they added a 'visa reciprocity fee' of $140 per person, payable at Ezeiza airport upon arrival. It's good for ten years, but casual U.S. tourists now have to pay almost $200 just to get into and out of the country.
None of this is outrageous, certainly not high enough to discourage us from visiting. The cost of our apartment rental is the same as three years ago, and the colectivos (buses) are still A$1.20 (about 30 cents U.S.).
The plazas and museums are as pleasant as ever, the people just as friendly even if a bit poorer, and the buildings still beautiful. Come and enjoy Buenos Aires, as we do, but be prepared to pay.
Monday, July 26, 2010
The Texas Doldrum
I am 61. Since I was born in January that means I've lived through 62 summers, counting this one, and 60 times I have endured the Texas summer. (The only Texas summers I've missed were in 1968, when I was in flight school in Savannah, and in 1969, when I was in Viet Nam.) Every May, when the last cool front peters out and I first feel the heavy, hot air settle in, I begin my struggle against lethargy and moody listlessness, wondering yet again why I live in this forsaken place.
We don't travel much during the summer: it's called the 'high season' in the Northern Hemisphere because most people have no choice about when they can get away, and why would I want to pay more to wander about amidst sweaty summer crowds of tourists?
So I sit and brood, withdrawn and peevish, dreading any sort of activity and knowing that the first fall cool front is still months away. If it were up to me, I'd never leave our apartment, but fortunately others occasionally force me up and out the door.
Back in May, we drove to Maineville, Ohio (near Cincinnati), to visit Terri's brother Ed, his wife Rhonda, and their boys Alec and Jacob. Our pleasant family outing included a visit to the world's largest basket building.
On the Fourth, we watched the big fireworks show at LaGrave Field from our perch atop a parking garage in downtown Fort Worth. Watch the fireworks!
Then my Aunt Mary invited us to spend a few days with her in Henderson, and while we were there we spent a nice afternoon with my Aunt Esther and Uncle Wiley. We usually just see each other at funerals, but this time, I am relieved to say, no one had died. It was great fun to catch up with relatives, talk about old times, and look through photo albums, but it was in Texas, in July. Here's a snapshot of me and Aunt Mary at the East Texas Oil Museum and one of me and Terri with Esther and Wiley in their backyard in Nacogdoches.
I quite surprised myself by catching World Cup fever and am now a futbol (soccer) fan. The Spanish cable channels carry several games a week, usually from the Mexican premier league, and Terri and I even went to see a game live at the new, ostentatious Dallas Cowboys Stadium. Here's a snapshot of Terri waiting for the game to start and a movie of the excitement in the stands.
So now it's July 26 and I peek through the blinds at the glaring sun, listening to the constant hum of the air conditioning and thinking of escape: in 25 days we go to Buenos Aires, where today's weather forecast is for a high of 61° after a low of 37° last night.
We don't travel much during the summer: it's called the 'high season' in the Northern Hemisphere because most people have no choice about when they can get away, and why would I want to pay more to wander about amidst sweaty summer crowds of tourists?
So I sit and brood, withdrawn and peevish, dreading any sort of activity and knowing that the first fall cool front is still months away. If it were up to me, I'd never leave our apartment, but fortunately others occasionally force me up and out the door.
Back in May, we drove to Maineville, Ohio (near Cincinnati), to visit Terri's brother Ed, his wife Rhonda, and their boys Alec and Jacob. Our pleasant family outing included a visit to the world's largest basket building.
On the Fourth, we watched the big fireworks show at LaGrave Field from our perch atop a parking garage in downtown Fort Worth. Watch the fireworks!
Then my Aunt Mary invited us to spend a few days with her in Henderson, and while we were there we spent a nice afternoon with my Aunt Esther and Uncle Wiley. We usually just see each other at funerals, but this time, I am relieved to say, no one had died. It was great fun to catch up with relatives, talk about old times, and look through photo albums, but it was in Texas, in July. Here's a snapshot of me and Aunt Mary at the East Texas Oil Museum and one of me and Terri with Esther and Wiley in their backyard in Nacogdoches.
I quite surprised myself by catching World Cup fever and am now a futbol (soccer) fan. The Spanish cable channels carry several games a week, usually from the Mexican premier league, and Terri and I even went to see a game live at the new, ostentatious Dallas Cowboys Stadium. Here's a snapshot of Terri waiting for the game to start and a movie of the excitement in the stands.
So now it's July 26 and I peek through the blinds at the glaring sun, listening to the constant hum of the air conditioning and thinking of escape: in 25 days we go to Buenos Aires, where today's weather forecast is for a high of 61° after a low of 37° last night.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Road Trip!
In the last couple of years, we've flown to New York, London, Rome, Paris, Madrid, Buenos Aires, Chicago, and several other cities, but all those have merely been a warm-up for the ultimate trip: tomorrow we drive to Cincinnati, Ohio.
In my life B.T. (Before Terri) I relished the catharsis of long road trips. My first long drive was with some friends from Houston to San Francisco in the summer of 1967 in an un-airconditioned Chevy Impala station wagon. I still remember crossing the Bay Bridge from Oakland with all the car windows open, still in a daze from the Mojave and driving up the Central Valley on 99, feeling the first hint of cold ocean air that quickly dried out a thousand miles of desert sweat and grime.
After that came more drives to the West, back to San Francisco, to Los Angeles, through Wyoming and Utah to Seattle and Oregon, either alone or with a friend. My last long drive was in 1996, a solo trip in my Mazda 323 hatchback from Austin up I-35 to Duluth and on to Thunder Bay, Ontario. I left at 7 one evening and arrived for breakfast 30-odd hours later. Along the way, somewhere in Iowa, I remember entering a trance-like state as the noise of tires on the cracked pavement -- ta thump, ta thump, ta ta thump ta -- became a concert of minimalist music.
These road trips have no allure for Terri. The longest we've driven together was from Austin to South Padre Island, so this will be a new experience for her. As for myself, I am older now and perhaps no longer have the stamina and focus needed for cross-country trips. No more driving through the night, no more stopping at a rest area for a 30-minute nap in the back seat. Although this trip is less than 1,000 miles, Terri insists that we will stop along the way; she already knows where the Hampton Inns are located.
Most importantly, I at last go on a road trip in a car with cruise control.
In my life B.T. (Before Terri) I relished the catharsis of long road trips. My first long drive was with some friends from Houston to San Francisco in the summer of 1967 in an un-airconditioned Chevy Impala station wagon. I still remember crossing the Bay Bridge from Oakland with all the car windows open, still in a daze from the Mojave and driving up the Central Valley on 99, feeling the first hint of cold ocean air that quickly dried out a thousand miles of desert sweat and grime.
After that came more drives to the West, back to San Francisco, to Los Angeles, through Wyoming and Utah to Seattle and Oregon, either alone or with a friend. My last long drive was in 1996, a solo trip in my Mazda 323 hatchback from Austin up I-35 to Duluth and on to Thunder Bay, Ontario. I left at 7 one evening and arrived for breakfast 30-odd hours later. Along the way, somewhere in Iowa, I remember entering a trance-like state as the noise of tires on the cracked pavement -- ta thump, ta thump, ta ta thump ta -- became a concert of minimalist music.
These road trips have no allure for Terri. The longest we've driven together was from Austin to South Padre Island, so this will be a new experience for her. As for myself, I am older now and perhaps no longer have the stamina and focus needed for cross-country trips. No more driving through the night, no more stopping at a rest area for a 30-minute nap in the back seat. Although this trip is less than 1,000 miles, Terri insists that we will stop along the way; she already knows where the Hampton Inns are located.
Most importantly, I at last go on a road trip in a car with cruise control.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Chicago Snaps
We made it back to Fort Worth Tuesday, after another pleasant stay in Chicago. The weather turned sunny the last two days and we had a fine time walking about the city. Our hotel, theWit at Lake and State, was great, and only a short walk to the Clark station on the Blue Line to O'Hare. The Art Institute was wonderful, as always. One night we splurged on a big seafood meal at Shaw's Crab House, where I had soft-shell crab for the first time in years.
I've never seen another city that works as hard as Chicago does at keeping their home clean and inviting: flowers are planted anywhere there's a square foot of dirt, streets and sidewalks are clean, and everyone seems proud of their city and glad that you're visiting.
Here's my snaps from the trip. There's a few postcard shots, an exploration of modern bathroom design, a portrait of six women, and a few other things that caught my eye and interest.
Flickr photos of this trip to Chicago
The slideshow version, playable in under a minute
I've never seen another city that works as hard as Chicago does at keeping their home clean and inviting: flowers are planted anywhere there's a square foot of dirt, streets and sidewalks are clean, and everyone seems proud of their city and glad that you're visiting.
Here's my snaps from the trip. There's a few postcard shots, an exploration of modern bathroom design, a portrait of six women, and a few other things that caught my eye and interest.
Flickr photos of this trip to Chicago
The slideshow version, playable in under a minute
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Hephaestus
When we were planning this trip to Chicago, Terri ran across some good reviews for a show called Hephaestus. It's a retelling of the Greek myth using music and acrobats, which sounded curious enough. So we stopped at the Goodman Theatre on our walk from the Clark/Lake train station to our hotel and picked up same-day half-price tickets, front row mezzanine.
We checked in to our hotel, piddled around, then explored the neighborhood before going to the theatre at 7:15.
About Hephaestus, oh my, it was incredible. The acrobats were as good as Cirque du Soleil, and the music was reminiscent of Blue Man Group, all presented with a twist of Devo. I'm not sure that makes much sense, but it all came together into one of the best shows we've ever seen. The acrobatic routines actually worked to tell the story, and the final act is a three-level seven-person pyramid tight rope act that is unbelievable -- the theatre was absolutely quiet as everyone in the audience held their breath until the performers all made it safely across.
Here's the Hephaestus Circus. Be sure to check out the blog and the embedded photos and videos.
Afterwards we went next door to Petterino's for an after-show dinner. This was another pleasant surprise: 1940s style red velvet booths, white table cloths, and a fine meal.
We checked in to our hotel, piddled around, then explored the neighborhood before going to the theatre at 7:15.
About Hephaestus, oh my, it was incredible. The acrobats were as good as Cirque du Soleil, and the music was reminiscent of Blue Man Group, all presented with a twist of Devo. I'm not sure that makes much sense, but it all came together into one of the best shows we've ever seen. The acrobatic routines actually worked to tell the story, and the final act is a three-level seven-person pyramid tight rope act that is unbelievable -- the theatre was absolutely quiet as everyone in the audience held their breath until the performers all made it safely across.
Here's the Hephaestus Circus. Be sure to check out the blog and the embedded photos and videos.
Afterwards we went next door to Petterino's for an after-show dinner. This was another pleasant surprise: 1940s style red velvet booths, white table cloths, and a fine meal.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Chicago, once again
If you've been following along you know that we like Chicago. It's a quick flight from DFW to ORD, hotel deals are easy to find on Priceline and Hotwire, and there's a train that goes directly from O'Hare to downtown. A walk down Michigan Avenue is one of the great strolls of the world, then there's Grant Park, the Loop, the Magnificent Mile, Navy Pier, Second City and Blue Man Group, the Art Institute, and much more. If it weren't for the bitter winters, I think we would have moved to Chicago years ago.
We visit often enough that we became members of the Art Institute. There's a wonderful new exhibit there, "Matisse: Radical Invention, 1913-1917", and we're going to see it this weekend. We fly out of DFW Saturday afternoon and return Tuesday. Here's two reviews of the show:
Los Angeles Times
Time Magazine
As a bonus, the Art Institute also has a show of photographs by William Eggleston, and each afternoon there are classical music concerts under the world's largest Tiffany dome, in the Chicago Cultural Center.
Until I come up with something interesting for you to read or to look at, here's a couple of my favorite snaps of Chicago, the first taken in September 2006 and the second in November of last year.
We visit often enough that we became members of the Art Institute. There's a wonderful new exhibit there, "Matisse: Radical Invention, 1913-1917", and we're going to see it this weekend. We fly out of DFW Saturday afternoon and return Tuesday. Here's two reviews of the show:
Los Angeles Times
Time Magazine
As a bonus, the Art Institute also has a show of photographs by William Eggleston, and each afternoon there are classical music concerts under the world's largest Tiffany dome, in the Chicago Cultural Center.
Until I come up with something interesting for you to read or to look at, here's a couple of my favorite snaps of Chicago, the first taken in September 2006 and the second in November of last year.
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