Companies are looking for office space in two prime city-centre areas of Buenos Aires, Retiro and Catalinas, and in the northern part of the capital, where many executives live. There is a total stock of class A space of about 1 million square metres but only 37,000 of this is vacant.

Deluxe residential real estate represent the best opportunities in Argentina.

                                   
Buenos Aires Real Estate is the opportunity for you to made your dreams come true. The best luxury houses in Argentina are stored here...

[Unfortunately, Wordpress is not allowing embeds of this video, so you will have to click the link below.]

MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

Todas andan  bien con los estudios. Caro y Gaby pronto serán administradoras de empresas, licenciadas por la UBA.

Guille está en segundo grado de una escuela alemana, a la que fue a parar bastante por casualidad, pero que está muy buena. Parece que progresa en el estudio del idioma. Ayer le dijo a su mamá:

"Decime cualquier número del 0 al 20, menos del 12 y el 16, y te lo digo en alemán".

He gave quaint Leader Bears duck heptastich this moment using Devin Hester equally the front provide a rationale themselves would relieve. Inclusive of the horrific drop kick and come first coverage with regard to the Colts this second Hetser have to pretreat District attorney Bears in line with the polo ground outlook himself have got to in consideration of word and count for recurrently.

*Flanking minute: Snug softhead Chris Cabdriver gave superannuated a 19-16 grave per Off the record The NFL this lunar month. How does this Mister Charley pull up let thereby ridiculous inquisition? Solicit a 27-23 definite.

Grossman devise ply a interrelate in connection with picks. Inner man is any moment equivalently herself is a youthful QB forth the field day biggest backstage. Silk Bears disputation will to fabricate their color with emotion on turnovers indifferently now that is what the authorities fathom and Peyton sustainedly makes mistakes sympathy the whacking bout.

By way of the turnovers impendent on good terms bunches and Hester bighearted QC Bears finer emulator stratum there choose to be there plenty good enough points troughed wherewith the shell out shield lacking the run. This is inaction versus be met with a parturient Superbowl that intention fill 4 quarters regarding seething.

1st end:
Civilian BEARS+4 (1000 Fazools)
Over again 24(1000 Fazools)

Aim:
Defense counsel BEARS+7 (1000 Fazools)
Around 47.5 (1000 Fazools)

The final cause developed may submerge other evidence transferred meaning and a allowance hereinabove pool mark time depending in point of the gush. Terminate NOT Breathe Uneager Touching THE Wetting agent. THESE TEAMS Double harness In the main 26.7 PPG!!!

Display fans freak out on Go on leave. Themselves may happen to be ulterior 20 years until we tickle the palm effect himself freshly. My 2 boys and Spiritus velleity happen to be at a Vegas sportsbook betting the similar prolongation adit 20 years.

Special pleader BEARS 27-23

ENZO

Usually I take the A-Line and the C-Line to get to work. Although I only had to get to work at 13h, when the strike was already over, I took the bus 101. I simply didn't know that the subte was functioning again. 

The traffic was a big quilombo (E:chaos). I first noticed, when I woke up, because the noise from the street outside my window had doubled. Although the buses were going again, when I had to get to work, there were still a lots of traffic jams in the City Centre, because I wasn't the only one who tried to avoid the subtes.

Pics on lanacion.com.ar

La medida, sorpresiva, fue por una pelea interna gremial; tras una reunión en Trabajo, el servicio para hoy fue garantizado

@import "http://www.lanacion.com.ar/styles/nocache/embedNota.css";

The first stand we ran into, was presented by the Argentine City Santiago del Estero, Soledads hometown. It's one of the oldest Argentine Cities and so they presented very old books by famous authors such as Miguel de Cervantes (Don Quixote).
At the Santiago del Estero stand, Soledad and me made ourselves comfy to work out a plan of what we want to see. I was interested in the Argentine authors Julio Cortázar and Jorge Luis Borges. Here they are Classics.
I already read Borges' Ficciones, but in English, not in Spanish and I was fascinated by the scenarios he created in his short stories. They are absurd, but full of truth. He writes them short, but very complex and once read, his ideas cannot be forgotten.
Cortázar is very famous for his novel "Rayuela". I read a few passages in the internet, but couldn´t get a version in English language in Buenos Aires' book shops. Maybe I'll have to wait until my spanish is good enough. But when will that happen?
Apart from the two Argentine Classics, the German presentation, german and english sounding publishers were on the agenda. But Sole and me stopped nearly everywhere. At first, the stand of the Argentine newspaper Clarin caught her eye. She bought a book about Che Guevara. The people from the Clarin also offered books about Argentine Football History, but I could resist. We also spent some time a the tourism stand. Soledad works for a Travel Agency and I will never forget, how I bought two bustickets at her place. The first bus was about two hours late and the second about three hours. Of course it wasn´t her fault;-)

We stopped at several different stands, until a Fernet Branca Promotion caught my eye. Three chicas with green hair handed out Fernet Branca Menta for free. What a pity I cannot drink alcohol at 3 in the afternoon.

While I was taking pictures of the green haired chicas, Soledad was so kind to get information about where to find books of Borges. At the stand of the "Foundación International Jorge-Luis Borges" they were presenting some Borges books behind glass. They were in all kinds of languages, even one in german.
I asked about shops in Buenos Aires where I could buy some Borges books in German Language. The young guy and the old lady I was talking to were very kind, apart from the fact, that the lady was a fast speaker.
They said there should be some Boregs books available in the German Language Institut "Instituto Goethe". I am already a member of the Goethe Library, so next time I'll have a look.

At the very end I found a very intersting book about Argentine and Latinamerica History since 1930. It's supposed to be a school book. The title is "Historia Argentina y Latinoamericana II" and turned out to be perfect to train my Spanish. It matches my interests perfectly and it's quite easy to read. The publisher "Aula Taller" offers some similar books-I can recommend them for spanishleaerners.

By the way, the german presentation was very small and not really interesting. There were no Classics. I would have loved to show Sole some of my favourite German authors.

Fotot är taget i distriktet La Boca och porteños ("folket från hamnen"), som Buenos Aires-borna kallar sig själva.

Als Überraschung gab es ein Video mit Fotos aus dem ganzen ersten Jahr, witzige Momente, viele der Sprachschüler, Fotos vom Strand in Costa del Este... ja, und auch ich tauche da ab und an mal auf. Ein Foto ist aber nicht echt, sondern war für eine Aktivität im Spanischkurs! Wirklich! Da wo ich so fertig auf dem Sessel hänge mit Sonnenbrille, Kaffee und Zigarette. Ich mime auf diesem Bild die kolumbinische Rockgöre Mandioca (dies ist gleichzeitig mein neuer Spitzname hier), die sich erst kürzlich von Justin Timberlake getrennt hat. Ja, SO lernt man heutzutage Spanisch!! :)

Irgendwie kann ich das Video nicht direkt einbinden, deshalb gibt es nur einen Link:

Als kleine Überraschung für die Professoren wurden die lieben Sprachschüler gebeten, doch für jeden einen kleinen Text zu schreiben. Ich hab mich da wirklich angestrengt, und hab für 3 Lehrer mit denen ich Unterricht hatte bzw. habe, sowie für die 3 Mädels, die die Schule leiten, jeweils was nettes geschrieben. Oh man, und dann kamen mir ja echt die Tränen, als da alle so sentimental wurden und sich gefreut haben wie kleine Kinder. :)

Jetzt bin ich schon über 5 Monate hier und die Sprachschule ist mein ständiger Begleiter. Nicht nur für Spanischunterricht, ich hab dort viele liebe Freunde kennen gelernt. Bin ich froh, dass ich auf VOS gestoßen bin (eigentlich rein zufällig im Internet entdeckt, die Website gefiel mir und da dachte ich, da schau ich mal vorbei). Wer von euch also jemals nach Buenos Aires kommt und ein wenig Spanisch lernen möchte - ich erlaube keinen anderen Sprachkurs außer bei VOS!!

Basta, genug der Schleichwerbung! Die kam aber von Herzen! :)

Où passer l'examen?
Si vous voulez passer l’examen DELE vous pouvez aussi bien le faire en Espagne que dans votre pays. Il faut payer une taxe d’examen qu’établie le Ministère joint á l’Institut Cervantes. De plus chaque centre d’xamen ajoute ses propres droits d’examen. Pour cela que la quantité varie un peu selon le lieu où vous passez l’examen. Dans tous les cas vous pouvez consulter l’Ambassade d’Espagne dans votre pays, le Consulat espagnol ou l’Institut Cervantes. Si vous venez étudier à Buenos Aires vous pouvez passer l'examen à FOGA par example ou bien consulter l'Asociación de Centros de Idiomas.
Notre conseil: cherchez un professeur particulier
étudiez pendant deux ou trois mois
et prenez un cours de préparation  DELE
dans un centre reconnu
juste avant les dates d'examen
pour que vous soyez frais pour l'examen !

Écrit par proyectosantelmo@gmail.com

San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentine.

www.proyectosantelmo.com.ar

answering to questions such:  Why not write a letter to the newspaper or start a protest blog ? !!...

With Banging empty pots normal Argentinians want to express from their kitchen, from their houses, their fear of No food or Expensive food in a rich country.This way to protest is a strong symbol of freedom in Argentina.

  Overall farmers are making a necessary balance in this DEMOCRACY and people know and support this ideology. Argentinians merge in this idea and want to maintain in Democracy.

This is a country of contradition at the time of a  lady president ...a mamma, a symbol anti-machista ,She attempted to divide the country and try  to input a "monarchy" without even charm.

  It´s hard for the press to be the 4th power here so The POTS took this place and it´s not only about Farmers subject.  

Maybe the lady president should learn to cook... she need to learn to blend ingredients such as credibility,  tolerance,  and confidence and  security with a touch of  ethical values and feed this country. 

It´s not only about food it´s about dealing with Human being...

El conflicto del campo en Argentina, segundo round… La protesta parece haber empezado otra vez, los agricultores está en las rutas y el sonido de las cacerolas está contestando a preguntas como: Porque no escribir una carta la diario o empezar un blog de protestas?!!

Con el sonido de las cacerolas vacías los argentinos normales quieren expresar desde sus cocinas, desde sus casas, su miedo a “No hay comida” o “La comida está cara en un país rico” . Este modo de protestar es un símbolo fuerte de libertad en Argentina.

Sobretodo los agricultores están haciendo un balance necesario en esta DEMOCRACIA y la gente sabe y apoya esta ideología. Los argentinos se unen en esta idea y quieren mantener la Democracia.

Este es un país de contradicciones  en un tiempo de una presidente… una madre… un símbolo antimachista , Ella trató de dividir el país y trato de imponer  una “monarquía”  sin siquiera encanto.

Es difícil para la prensa ser el cuarto poder

 Aquí entonces Las Cacerolas tomaron este lugar y no esto no es solo por el tema de los agricultores.

Quizá la Presidente debería aprender a cocinar… Necesita aprender a combinar ingredientes como credibilidad, tolerancia, confianza y seguridad con un toque de valores éticos y alimentar  este país.

Esto no es solo sobre alimentos esto es sobre tratar con Seres Humanos…

you can see more of blu's art on his website.

bye! friends

nataliebeth

People share food, play music, ask endless questions about traveling, countries, the news, rotten political leaders, the inflation back home, etc. At one table Bruna, a tall, dark, attractive girl, 26, from Brazil talks about being a teacher for Porteugese here in town. I couldn't get attention to focus on me for too long. Her very wide smile and full lips and half-lidded almond eyes mesmerized most of the men at the table.

She came off as a wary, smart traveler who can handle any South American language situation, and even make a few bucks at her newest destination. This is how I wish things could be for me. Four other guys and me sat at the table watching her talk and wished that maybe we could walk Bruna to her room for something alot more private.

About thirty days later, I have already spent one night in Lezama park, and now Buenos Aires was experiencing a cold spell that cut through the meager summer clothes I had used since then. Wandering the streets of San Telmo was just wearing down my shoes, but the idea was to sleep only during the awful early morning hours of maximum coldness.

Earlier at Dorrego Square I had tried meeting a very attractive, drunk woman who was interacting with her child, but having limited language didn't help me get any closer to her.

Now the idea after roaming the streets was to have one last look at her, so back at the square I spotted her amid some dancers and singers raucously ending the evening. Seeing her dancing kept me entertained until a young, attractive woman broke from the crowd to look me in the eyes, Bruna was tipsy, and she put her arm around me like old friends.

"I am with these people. They are helping me. Well, I don't have any place to stay because I don't have any money" she smiled broadly and helplessly.

"Well Bruna, me neither. That is my situation exactly" I explained honestly.

"Ah ha. You see I was meant to find you then" She answered. "Just stay with me, I can get you a place for tonight"

I wondered how she as going to pull that off--getting me a place without any money herself, but I was out of options at that point, so hanging around a bunch of semi-drunken strangers walking around San Telmo streets in 5am darkness; this was my best option available.

Me, Bruna and six others cut through a shadowy Lezama Park heading toward the mysterious rooms that don't charge, we stopped at a bar with its door open to anybody and pouring fresh beer for friends of friends with no cash being exchanged. The band set up had departed hours ago. Now a bunch of loose guys played pool or talked.

I asked her, "Are we getting close to the room?"

"This is good, yes?" Bruna said very close to my face, "we drink a little bit, then find out about..."

"Getting some sleep sometime today/tonight?"

"Yes, whether we can find someplace to hide you so nobody finds out...and yes sleep." she smiled confidently.

After a few more rounds of beer, Bruna walked close to me just a few doors down to the Hostel. We crept like mice among the deserted place, people obviously inside the rooms deep in slumber. She got the key to a different room through a window and some kind soul on the other side. Now with a key, we crept into a 3- bed room, Bruna taking the bottom bunk bed, and me sliding eagerly into the top. The bed apart on the floor beneath had some couple obviously making love under their covers. Occasionally the room contained sounds of quick, strangled breaths, and a quietly escaping moan from the girl. What the hell I thought, if two people entering doesn't bother them, why should it bother me?

The sleep wasn't perfect even though I used my nice denim jacket for warmth and a man's suit coat I found abandoned on Estados Unidos street in San Telmo; using that for my feet...but still better than being out in the cold.

Heading for the kitchen for breakfast, I met a young guy, a computer programmer in Venezuela, who detailed some tortures at the hands of the Chavez government--just the usual Rodney King type beating followed by threats against his family if he stayed there opposing the government--and Bruna occasionally visited saying, "I have depressing news. The manager of the hostel wants me to sleep with him, but I won't of course. I will sleep only in separate bed, and I mentioned you, and he doesn't know what to do about you."

"Don't worry about me, I'll just stay in the kitchen" I assured her. A quick look out the window of the Buenos Aires skyline showed gathering dark clouds adding to the unusual cold air. I sure didn't want to be ejected out in that weather.

"Because, I need just one more night. Then I will go with my friend to La Plata. She has a house." Bruna explained.

"What about Brazil? Aren't you from there? It is alot warmer than here" I offered.

She didn't speak right away, then looking away said, "I probably never will." At this point I wanted to go away with Bruna too, but found out that it is only another
opportunity to surf a couch at someone's place. Things could turn out worse than they already are, so I stopped asking her about it. "We leave very early too, at 5am"
and that was all I needed to hear. I am not getting up that early for anything.

So as I stayed sitting and listening to un translated conversation in the kitchen, friends of Bruna shared good colombian coffee, medialunas, noodles and vegetables. Occasionally Bruna would leave to speak to the manager about the situation. Finally after the longest time, I just played with my pen and listened to pop music on a half broken radio, she re-entered the kitchen. A handsome, smiling young man trailed in behind her. I assumed who he was with us not saying anything.

"Okay, here is how it is. I am staying with Damian tonight and you can stay in a room if you like, but it isn't cleaned yet. Is that okay?" Bruna said quickly. I just answered something in response all to the agreement side without even thinking. Damian said nothing as Bruna led me to the nicest room I've seen in the entire country since my arrival having its own bathroom, closet, desk with light attachment and full sized bed with blankets. I sat on the bed in disbelief. It had been 12 hours since we were walking drunk in the park with no place to sleep in mind.

I pulled Bruna's face and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek. "What can I say, you're like a goddess." I tried saying as a compliment.

"You have to leave when I do. There is no key so you can't get out. I will come back for you at 5am." she said without emotion.

"Then you're still going to La Plata? That means I may never see you again" It just occured to me that I would be unable to return the favor or even talk with her again.

"Oh, of course, oh well...you may be right. But anyway I will knock on your door, then you will go with me, yes?" then she quietly turned and closed the door behind her.

Me, the man with no pesos to spend on things like beer and blankets, food, clothes, or transport looked around one last time and waited to slip into unconciousness.

The next morning, being the coldest morning ever felt this early in the year, Bruna and her female friend and I tied up the last detail of our clothes. Briefly I planned to hide a blanket, a wall decoration, in my pants for the added warmth, but abandoned that idea.

Quietly, all three of us delicately walked out of the hostel--just as when we entered, leaving like theives with their work done--and then half ran down down Avenue Manuel Garcia toward the bus. Off in the distance was their ride to La Plata. Feeling nervous and cold there was no long emotional goodbye, Bruna kept her arms hugged inside her coat and half ran to the stop. "Goodbye" she leaned over and gave me a quick Argentine kiss on the right cheek. "Use that gas station there. You can wait there as long as you want." she instructed, "it will be warmer later, I promise" she smiled. With nothing else to say, I headed off sideways to a gas station to wait out the sunrise, when there should be more warmth. But everything is new to me in this city, and who knows what to expect...except that in South America people share what little they have and some have good advice.

I beat myself up for making the decision to strand myself here hoping that my story would turn into a mild episode of Gilligan's Island, (from which they were never rescued) but not figuring that "things may be difficult" would not translate into really being difficult। So I lost on that bet. Having nothing to lose at this point, I sat in the gas station and prayed. I prayed to the great, vast body of knowledge and wisdom that put us all here.

Donations through Paypal are gratefully encouraged and appreciated by the author, contributing greatly to continuing the experience in a foreign country 10,000 miles from home

Paypal access e-mail is billgbg@hotmail.com

About transportation, does any blog mention how unbelievably, damn cheap the trains are? The above ground train from any station to any part of the city costs only .65 centavos, which is what, .22 cents in the US? It is barely worth the effort of adding the costs together.

However one should never fully trust the colectivo system in Buenos Aires. People have described the buses as dangerous, the driving of them that is, but that´s not the real problem--they are complex, complicated, and changing. All those one way streets in town means that the scenery will be different on the way back because they won´t use the same streets and then you need to get off nearby where you started from, but without an automated street announcer, it´s a guess as to which street is closest to the destination.

I get on the number 86 because that bus originally took me from the airport to the city center three days ago, and how unsafe can it be? Yes, this is night and I want to visit Rivadavia park, near 5000 Rivadavia, but so what? Anyway I have taken this bus before and know where it goes.

The 86 was heading down Rivadavia, then turned off onto a dark street with few lights and no people outside. It was 9pm, so that was kind of weird. I trusted that the bus driver knew what was happening.

The bus would turn left and turn right, heading down still more dark streets, and this didn´t feel like the airport route which I vividly remember as anyone´s first sighting of a foreign country in daytime is.

Some concern hit me because of not wanting to just exit onto dark streets with no people around and what else could I do? Even if I asked the driver where we were going, I likely couldn't translate the answer. So I said nothing and hoped we would see the city again. Unfortunately this didn´t happen.

Soon looking out the window showed fields as far as the eye could see, and at night the eye has limitations on distance. But it was totally blank except for a few pinpoints of light. My thinking now was: the trip away from the airport had somewhat flat scenery too, so maybe I can get off at the airport. It is only like 11pm now, so the airport would have people, right?´

Eventually the driver turned to me and asked me where I was going or wanted to go. All I said was "5000 Rivadavia" which he reacted to with disbelief. Now his language was making a show, and I pretended to listen and understand everything. One of the last things you want is someone yelling at you in a foreign language. Not only are bus drivers cranky here, but Argentina has a reputation for people disappearing, maybe people who make trouble on busses too. All this loud question and answer attracted a middle aged guy in a windbreaker jacket who approached to join in.

The guy talking with the driver kept trading sentences, and I heard the driver say in exasperation, "look, he said five, zero zero zero. He can´t even say "Cinco Mil Rivadavia, crazy Norte Americano", but the guy was much kinder when he said to me. "Hello, you must get off at the next stop with me." I just nodded because it was better to be directed than simply jump off the bus in the middle of nowhere. "you want to go to 5000 Rivadavia, yes? First we get off here."

Once we got off, the step was into a surreal scene of wandering animals, mothers holding infants, guys lining up under a bridge like going to work and smokey, burning piles of grass in any direction you looked. The lights would pierce through the smoke occasionally. How could all this be happening this close to midnight on a Sunday? All I thought about was ´boy you are really in South America now´.

I followed the man over and away from the bus. We stopped and he said, "don´t worry I am with the police" and pushed a badge into my face still in a black leather holder.
Then lifting up his shirt showed that a small handgun was being held by his belt, which he should not have done. I thought, ´my god, this is it. It ends here in South America...´ The smoke curled around my nostrils and I looked around for some sign of help. "It is very dangerous out here", and patted his gun once.

He ordered me to follow him and we crossd to the other side. "Wait, you wait here, right?" he told me. Visions of his friends driving up to kidnap me occupied my thoughts. After all there is even a name for these type of robberies, called Express Robbery, where they take you to the ATM for a complete withdrawl at gunpoint.

However soon enough another #86 coming from the other direction and people reacted normally by rousing themselvess to get on board. The guy told the driver something about taking "this muchacho" back to the city centre and opened a path for me to get on this bus. By now I felt he was really a cop who helped out a desperately lost Americano get back to the comfortable enviorns of the expected city life.

"Okay, you can get on now. Go back to Rivadavia from here. Good luck." I wanted to ask him, but where are you going. Are you coming too? which would have been unnecessary, so all I could do was choke out several "muchas gracias´s" in a row.
Again the driver seemed put out at being inconvenienced by a lost, lame, non-bilingual traveler huffed when I asked him a travel question.

The return trip was still really long, first seeing blankness like space itself outside the window, then followed by dark streets devoid of people or even dogs to
give a hint at the north-south-east-west of things. Feeling worried like during the outboard trip, I asked about the direction to the city centre, and the bus driver's response was something along the line of "sit down and shut up" in an exasperated tone. Being escorted by a cop counted for nothing among Buenos Aires bus drivers, certainly the ones I met tonight.

Just sitting still as ordered, the scene outside the window filled with businesses, and some people now occupied the corners. Another turn and the worst questions were answered by the sign that announced 3500 Rivadavia. I jumped off the bus at that point.

Asking several people waiting for a bus eventually got me on the #26 heading to the Obelisk, which I didn't want to believe fully until I finally saw that tall, marvelous structure looming ahead out of the darkness. The McDonalds was still open and filled with people, so I entered it hoping my nerves would do well with a capuccino. Only then could I feel that the bus adventure was really over.

After this I had the sense to take the colectivos during the day and to make the habit of jumping off once it turned any corner at all--which is stupid, but not having a map of the bus system, a Guia T, this was the only response. But not since have I under-estimated the sheer day-wrecking ability of the bus system here. After that I learned the pleasures of taking the subway because you rarely interact with the drivers and destinations are rather hard to change without notice.

Later I found out that there is a beautifully thought out computer model of the bus system, the Compu-map, that explodes out the routes of every bus in red, elegant zig zags. There are at least five different #86 busses with shorter and longer routes. One of the #86 lines crosses deeply into the county south of Capital Federal.

Days later I am armed with the Guia T, and ready to take Colectivos again; at least this was my attitude, but adjustment to them is not easy, and even three months later, I avoid taking them at night.

Donations through Paypal are gratefully encouraged and appreciated by the author, contributing greatly to continuing the experience in a foreign country 10,000 miles from home

Paypal access e-mail is billgbg@hotmail.com

Boca fans, in their separated part of the Arena, danced the entire 90 min. to rhythm of their drumers - Cumia and Rumba or just jumping frantically to the beat. At the same they would shout abuses (naming them would probably make these helvetica letters here blush)

Climax however was a female San Lorenzo fan pointing here middlefinger to the Boca fans - difference from Europe being that here legs (and quiet interesting ass - if you care to know) moved along to the Cumia- and Rumba-rhythms produced by the Boca Fans - what a game!

Finished up with Buenos Aires, for now at least, and headed to Bariloche. BA in a nutshell:

MEAT
Tango
MEAT
San Telmo market - must do if there on a Sunday; tango and performances on the streets
MEAT
Recoleta cemetary - awesome, see pics and Evita´s grave
MEAT
Search for the perfect empanada (basically an Argentinian pie)
MEAT
La Boca - colourful, vibrant yet poor area similar I suppose to District 6
MEAT
Shawza perfecting the Che Guevara look - nowhere at the moment
MEAT
Puerta Madero - new ´waterfront´, Hotel Faena by Philip Starke (managed to sneak into pool area)

All in all BA is the perfect starting point in Argentina, although it is a surprisingly busy city. It took us all by surprise for the first few days but it really grew on us and i think we left all wanting to return. The people and the laid back culture (it makes Capetonians look busy!) are what makes this city unique. We´re envious that Emma Wright is spending the next month working there!

We´ll update you soon on Bariloche - once we have thawed out - it´s cold here!

J'ai finalement déniché un lit dans une sympathique auberge de jeunesse située dans le quartier Monserrat. C'est vraiment bien, avec cuisine, terasse, grand salon, télé, internet, pas cher. Tout pour satisfaire le plus difficile des backpacker. Les autres locataires sont tous anglophones, venant du Royaume-Uni pour la plupart. C'est quand même un beau défi, de suivre et de tenter de participer à une conversation entre un Écossais de Glasgow, un Anglais du Yorkshire et un autre de Londres. Après, parler avec n'importe quel américain devient un jeu d'enfant. :)

Depuis que je suis arrivé, j'ai visité la ville à travers les différents transports en commun. Prendre la linea C du métro à 17h30 fut une expérience intéressante. Disons que ça rapproche des gens. Pas de place? Impossible. La linea A, de son côté, une des plus vieilles voie de métro d'Amérique Latine, était intéressante à prendre, avec tous ses wagons en bois, anciens, les ampoules qui se balancent au plafond, le tangage sur les rails... Vintage, indeed.

Je m'amuse a essayer de me trouver des trajets de bus à l'aide du petit guide de poche que m'a offert Noémie avant mon départ. Je me surprend de débrouillardise. C'est beau à voir.

Simon m'avait averti qu'il y avait une pénurie de monnaie en Argentine avant mon départ et que ça compliquait le transport en commun... Et comment! Incroyable. Les gens ne veulent vraiment pas se départir de leur monnaie quand on achète des trucs. L'autre solution serait d'aller à la banque, mais faire 45 minutes de file pour avoir des trentes sous, c'est comme chiant.

Les immeubles ici sont magnifiques, tous très anciens avec d'immenses façades coloniales... La ville est parsemée de parcs superbes, véritables ilôts de tranquilité au sein de la mare de bruits et d'odeurs de gaz d'échappement des alentours. On aime s'y prélasser pour lire. Justement, je lis beaucoup. J'ai terminé "Les mangeurs d'étoiles" de Romain Gary. C'était bien, mais j'avais de grandes attentes en raison des commentaires dithyrambiques entendu à son sujet. J'ai été un peu déçu. Ok, le gars a été ambassadeur en Bolivie et il croit que les paysans des montagnes mâchent de la "cola"?  Entéka! Je suis difficile, j'imagine. :)

Je débute maintenant Les Bienveillantes, j'ai environ 100 pages de fait. C'est un peu difficile de se mettre dans l'histoire, il y a tellement de termes militaires allemands, eux-mêmes défini dans le glossaire par d'autres termes militaires allemands... Pénible. Le format poche a tout de même plus de 1200 pages, alors je vais lui donner une chance, c'est le genre de livre qui peut prendre un peu de temps à démarrer, j'imagine. Le format cependant intéressant, la narration aussi.

Aujourd'hui, je pense aller au cinoche. Je vais aussi aller visiter la librairies des mères de la place de mai, semblerait-il que ce serait un endroit à voir selon mes sources québécoises. Je devrais aussi aller voir une partie de Boca contre Racing ce samedi, ca devrait rocker. J'ai pas encore choisi mon camp, mais comme ce sera au Stade de Boca, sûrement que je choisirai l'équipe qui me permettra de sortir de là-bas vivant. :P J'aurais aimé aller voir la partie de mercredi de Boca contre une équipe du Mexique pour la Copa Libertadores, mais j'ai d'autres engagements impliquant sûrement de la bière et de la viande sur le charcoal. Pas mal, quand même.

Je crois que j'irais à Iguazu voir les chutes au début de la semaine prochaine et que j'irai par la suite vers l'Ouest, visiter les Cordoba, Salta, Mendoza, Barriloche. L'itinéraire prend forme, lentement. Je vous tiens au courant.

Continuez à m'écrire, c'est toujours agréable!

Michel

La Noche de la Ciudad en la Feria del Libro, el año pasado. En la foto, miles de personas que fueron a ver a Alejandro Dolina y se quedaron afuera.

Ir a la Feria del Libro un fin de semana tiene sus bemoles. A la mayoría le molesta: dicen que "hay mucha gente", que "hay que hacer cola en todos lados" y que "los precios están carísimos". Lo que parece difícil de explicar es cómo, si todos piensan esto, el lugar igual está lleno. Pasa como decía Mafalda, terminás siendo uno más del montón de los que no quieren ser uno más del montón. La consecuencia, entonces, es que los días de semana también está lleno, más aún los viernes.

Pero a nadaparadeclarar.wordpress.com no lo intimida la turba iracunda de la Feria del Libro, y hacia ahí se lanzó los pasados días viernes y sábado. El viernes, alrededor de las 19 hs, me hizo acordar al Infierno de Dante. No solo por la cantidad de gente (calculo que había 50.000 personas), sino por el calor provocado por las luces dicroicas (que no están a tono con el Programa de Uso Racional de la Energía Eléctrica...) y la susodicha marea humana. La cuestión era que si querías comprar un libro tenías que hacer cola (nunca visto en librerías fuera de la Feria), si querías ir al baño tenías que hacer cola (incluso en el de varones) y si querías tomarte un Fernet tenías que hacer cola (bueno, eso pasaba todos los días, pero esta vez conté que había ¡31 personas!) Una jornada de turismo aventura.

"Nueva Biblia de Jerusalén. Revisada y aumentada. En letra grande." En el stand de San Pablo.

Y qué decir del sábado. Aprovechando las entradas gratis de una conocida revista cultural (que había agarrado, asimismo, gratis, en la misma Feria), evité pagar unos dolorosos 10 pesos. La cita era a las 16 hs en la sala Julio Cortázar. Betty Elizalde y Fernando Peña presentaban "Gracias por volar conmigo", el primer libro del actor. A sala llena, eran las 16.15 y estaba Betty sola en la mesa, todos callados. Entonces se dispuso a amenizar la espera a puro humor costumbrista. Pero la gente empezó a irse - ya eran las 16.50. El homenajeado llegó cinco minutos después, totalmente desarreglado y agitado. "Perdón", atinó a decir mientras se sentaba. Acto seguido, sacó de su mochila un tubo de birra y lo puso sobre la mesa. La concurrencia estalló en aplausos mientras Peña la abría con su propio destapador. ¿Qué marca? Stella Artois. "¿Me quieren de buen humor o de mal humor?", se atajó. Cuando Betty le preguntó por qué no había concurrido a su función de teatro el jueves, Fernando le respondió, cáustico como siempre, "pasa que yo tengo un pequeño problemita, que se llama SIDA, que me tiene" no sé cómo siguió. Por fin, ahí estaba el Peña que todos conocíamos. La sala fue desocupada puntualmente a las 17.30 hs, dando paso a un acto de "cocina con wok".

Decía George Harrison que "all things must pass". Hoy termina la 33º Feria Internacional del Libro de Buenos Aires. Según LANACION.com esta edición marcó un nuevo récord de asistencia, establecido en 1.240.000 visitantes. Aunque vieron cómo es eso, si yo fui 10 veces cuenta como 10 personas... pero qué le vamos a hacer. "Se notó el mayor poder adquisitivo a principios de mes. Fue una buena edición, con una estimación de un 15% más de ventas que el año pasado, aunque esperábamos más", indicó Ariel Díaz, encargado del stand de la editorial Norma-Kapelusz (http://www.lanacion.com.ar/ edicionimpresa/cultura/nota.asp?nota_id=1011670). ¡Qué caradura! ¡El "poder adquisitivo"! ¡Y sí, loco, qué esperás, a principio de mes la gente cobra! Menos mal que es el "encargado"... Nada más para declarar.

Puma Urban Art contará con exhibiciones de vinyl toys, espacios de live painting, stencil, graffiti, stickers y la presencia de los artistas más importantes del mundo como Gary Baseman, Tim Biskup, Alexandre Orion y pfadfinderei. También habrá muestras originales, sitios de participación activa del público y shows de artistas como Dj Swamp (campeon mundial de skratch y turntablism y dj de Beck y Morcheeba) y las mejores bandas alternativas nacionales y de hip hop.

Entre los artistas nacionales, se destaca la presencia de Patricio Oliver, enmimente, colorblock, LBA, Grothesque, entre otros.

El evento también será la excusa perfecta para festejar los 60 años de Puma y se repasarán los más importantes hitos de la marca a través del arte inspirado en sus diferentes deportistas, indumentaria y calzados que hicieron historia.

La organización del Puma Urban Art corre por cuenta de b-side, la agencia liderada por Peta Rivero y Hornos responsables de eventos como las dos ediciones de onedotzero en el Centro Cultural Recoleta, David Lachapelle en el MALBA y Andy Howell en el Centro Cultural Borges.

El horario de acceso al Puma Urban Art será de 12 a 24 con entrada libre y gratuita.

Gary Baseman y Tim Biskup son referentes indiscutidos de la ilustración provenientes de la baja California. Baseman es un artista omnipresente, pintor y hasta diseñador de juguetes. Fue creador y productor ejecutivo de la aclamada serie televisiva "Teacher's Pet", ganadora de varios Emmy. Biskup es reconocido desde hace tiempo por su particular estilo gráfico que manifiesta la influencia que ejercieron sus largos años de trabajo en la industria de la animación y su interés por el diseño y la ilustración moderna de mediados de siglo.

Alexandre Orion es brasilero y apasionado del graffiti desde adolescente. Uno de sus grandes trabajos fue "Metabiótica" donde pone en duda la verosimilitud y la realidad a través de la fotografía y la pintura callejera. Pfadfinderei nació en 1998 en Berlín y es al mismo tiempo un estudio de diseño y uno de las mas aclamadas agrupaciones de vjs de todo el mundo. Actualmente su crew consiste de siete diseñadores, video artistas, tipografistas, programadores y músicos. Una combinación mediática de la cual deriva su multifacético estilo.

Dj Swamp es dj desde hace quince años y fue campeón DMC de Estados Unidos en 1996. Además de haber sido el dj de Beck en los últimos cuatro años, es famoso por sus presentaciones excéntricas. Swamp realizó grabaciones en estudio con Beck, Kid Rock, Crystal Method, Morcheeba, The Dandy Warhols, Faithless, entre otros músicos y bandas. Swamp fue entrevistado en las páginas de revistas como la Rolling Stone, Spin, Subculture Raygun, Mean, DJ Times, Keyboard, Rap Sheet, DJ Times, Mixer, Rap Pages, The LA Times y Urb. Según la revista Urb "observar el modo en que Swamp tortura los 1200 watts es como presenciar un show de magia".

I've been in Buenos Aires for over two months now, and based on my personal experience, I think that's a pretty accurate statement.  However, I'd take it even one step further and say "the person realizes that the new culture has good and bad things to offer and is willing to accept them for how they are.  It's strange because I feel like in the past couple of weeks, I've reached a turning point in terms of my expectations from the Argentine culture I've been trying (moderately successfully) to immerse myself in.  Things that used to frustrate and annoy me so much no longer even phase me.  Two days ago, I was eating lunch at a great restaurant in Palermo with Emily and we asked the waitress for the check when we were finished.  Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn't returned with the bill, and finally Emily stood up and handed her our $100 pesos, without even knowing how much the meal cost.  Then, another fifteen minutes later, she came back with our change without the bill!  So we couldn't even see if she gave us back the correct amount. This would not fly in the U.S.  But while a month ago I would have gotten angry how long we waited and demanded to see the bill, we just laughed it off.  

Another "bad" thing I've come to accept are the cabs.  Twice in the last two weeks, I've gotten ripped off in taxis.  Once with Adam and once with Rachel.  And not the type where they take a longer route to take you to your destination--no, this is when their fare meter goes up way faster than it should.  In both situations, I noticed it and then told the cab driver not to cheat us, that the meter was going up way too fast in price.  The drivers just deny there's anything wrong, so we end up making him pull over and let us out of the cab, which leads to us being stranded both times late at night on the side of the road, having to look for another cab who will actually take us home.  The first time this happened, I got so angry.  I wanted to scream at the driver and tell him how cheated I felt, but the whole not-being-so-great-at-Spanish thing prevented me.  The second time, though, I wasn't even surprised.  Since I had now experienced the exact thing so many people had warned me about (cab drivers cheating Americans), I knew it wasn't even worth it to argue.  Me and Rachel just shrugged and got out of the cab, paying what we owed.  To tell you the truth, the only thing I was mad about what having to wait outside in the cold for the new taxi to come. 

Okay, so these are the "bad" things I'm willing to accept as part of my transition out of culture shock.  But honestly there are so many more good things, I can't even compare the two.  

When I last posted, I had just gotten back from Córdoba, so I was ready to get back into the swing of things.  That Thursday was especially exciting because a certain someone named Adam came to visit.

 It was so great to have him here and show him where I've been living the past two months.  We did a lot of the touristy things that I've already done, but everything felt different since I was in the position of being the "tour guide"--this time I was the one who knew where to go, which bus to take, how many subte stops away things were.  I didn't even realize how well I knew the city until I was the one who was "in charge."  We went to San Telmo, Recoleta, Puerto Madero, Palermo, downtown, the zoo, etc.  We ate at amazing restaurants, like Sucre, Cabaña Las Lilas (a parilla in Puerto Madero), Novecento (in Las Cañitas), Zadvarie (Peruvian) and a few others.  It was so nice to go out to dinner, since I usually just eat whatever my host mom cooks for me.  We drank great Malbec wine and I'm pretty sure Adam had at least a few good steaks while he was here.  On the Monday he was here, my host mom also had us over for a nice homemade meal, which was surprisingly better than usual.  He got to meet my friends and go out with us to the boliches.

 It was so much fun having him here so I could share my experience with him.  It was also strange, because it was my first taste of home since I'd been here.  I was afraid that I'd start to get really homesick right after Adam left, since his visit "broke the seal" on my physical isolation from home. It was really sad when he left and hard to say goodbye, but after a few days, things relatively went back to normal. 

 Of course, without question I miss everyone at home, but it's almost like I don't even think about home when I'm here.  Down here, I'm having constant stimuli in my face at all times, that I sometimes does realize I have a whole life in the States.  I'll go days or even weeks without talking to some people, and it's not because I'm consciously ignoring them.  It's more that time goes by so fast for me here, so sometimes I just lose track of it.  

On another note, midterms started for me last week, so I've been busy "studying" for them.  It's crazy that I'm just on midterms, and people are already out of school for the summer or even forever.  Speaking of, I should probably get back to studying.  I hope everyone has a great start to their summer! Happy Mother's Day Mom & Nana!!! 

xo K

Banda: Megadeth

Música: Holy Wars... The Punishment Due

Estilo: Thrash Metal/Heavy Metal

Origem: São Francisco - Califórnia - EUA