Yes I know its been a while.
What's been going on with me?
- we had a storm a few days ago which brought some snow (not enough - never enough!) and have had two fun days of powder hunting. Winds picked up today, closing lifts so today was more of a mellow day.
- Speaking of mellow days - been working on my snowboarding when I can get my hands on some equipment. Always a fun challenge to pick up another sport. Today I mastered the intermediate poma (after three tries). I got a 'who-ho' from the liftee when I eventually made it past the first post.
To give a sense of the average day here.
Wake up at light which is 8 to 8:30. Stick my head out the door to suss out the weather. Clear skies? Cloudy? Windy? How cold?
If its post-storm day, clear skis, low wind - the rush is on. If its not any of those things - the kettle is casually put on for tea, breakfast (eggs sandwhiches/ poridge) is lolly-gagged over, and its not uncommon to go back to bed. Meanwhile the various occupents of the Corbus apartments are calling on each other or dropping by to re-confirm ski plans or make up new ones. Who is going where? Touring? Skins? Do the snowbaroders need snowshoes? Is anyone bringing ice-axes? Who is up for what intense hikes? Who just wants to mess around on-piste? Anyone heard if marte is open? What was the wind direction was last night?
Plans are made, and then from approx 10 to whenever - executed against. Some days we only take one chairlift up to the top, and then start hiking for three hours - doing only one or two runs a day. Somedays not even the chairlift.
Generally finish sometime around three if the weather remains good all day. Earlier if it turns bad. Then its back home to bake up a random assortment of food/leftovers, steal showers (our hot water tank can only handle one shower every two hours ), and nap.
Sometime around 6 people emerge from their siestas. Dinner plans start to be made. Which usually don't materialize until 9 or 10 at night. And hten of course - its the evening plans. Who is going out where? Las Lenas is a pretty small place and yet - this is always a key discussion. The winebar? The pool- bar? The clubs? Or is there an impromptu house party somewhere nearby (follow the noise).
People drift back home at all hours, fall into bed and get ready to start the next day. :)
And that in a nutshell, is a day in Las Lenas.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
excellent day!
Blue skies, a light dusting of snow yesterday, Marte running like a champ.
Highlight of today?
- after two 45 min boot packs ('I can do it, but you are going to have to wait for me') we (Ted, Chris, Dan and I) did the Banana chute off San Martin - which starts steep,mellows out a touch, gets steeper, and then chokes. Which means you have to point you skis and straightline through the narrow choke, then be able to somewhat control your speed once you exit into the bottom expanse (which was wide open). Luckily we had fantastic snow so it was pretty doable. But man, did you come out of it with a lot of speed.
Day before yesterday - did this massive 3 hour tour/hike to an amazing ridgeline full of perfect powder. It was alaskan-esq
Life here is about skiing, touring, skiing, eating, skiing, sleeping. Love it!
Highlight of today?
- after two 45 min boot packs ('I can do it, but you are going to have to wait for me') we (Ted, Chris, Dan and I) did the Banana chute off San Martin - which starts steep,mellows out a touch, gets steeper, and then chokes. Which means you have to point you skis and straightline through the narrow choke, then be able to somewhat control your speed once you exit into the bottom expanse (which was wide open). Luckily we had fantastic snow so it was pretty doable. But man, did you come out of it with a lot of speed.
Day before yesterday - did this massive 3 hour tour/hike to an amazing ridgeline full of perfect powder. It was alaskan-esq
Life here is about skiing, touring, skiing, eating, skiing, sleeping. Love it!
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Awesome awesome birthday – and so much else that has been going on. Although really just the skiing.
- Marte: Jose and I on first chair. 50 degree chutes that went on and on and on - hundreds of feet worth. Sluff coming down ontop of me which was both cool and unnerving.
- Skiing until my legs just died (seriously - I was at the point where I would have rather straightlined and crashed then try to turn my skis)
- Next day - Marte was open again. More exploring down chutes and faces with Ted and Chris (roommates)
THEN today, too windy for Marte, but a crew of us pretty randomly hooked up in the slack country and six of us – Tim, Mattias, Ted, Chris, and Dan and I toured up to the ‘Officina’ an area of more chutes, etc. including some pretty gorgeous boot packing straight up along ridge lines. I did none of the trail breaking and am still utterly exhausted. The guys did not help my ego by continously exclaiming how EASY it was being last. Almost all of them are six footer guys with long legs that can step up stuff I have to crawl up. (mattias, thank god - is not six foot and understands my pain)
It was all worth it before we even started down - but we picked the right angle on the face, and had gorgeous snow.
Wonderful wonderful couple of days. If the wind doesn't die down, if marte doesn't open - more touring tomorrow! So for now - BED!
- Marte: Jose and I on first chair. 50 degree chutes that went on and on and on - hundreds of feet worth. Sluff coming down ontop of me which was both cool and unnerving.
- Skiing until my legs just died (seriously - I was at the point where I would have rather straightlined and crashed then try to turn my skis)
- Next day - Marte was open again. More exploring down chutes and faces with Ted and Chris (roommates)
THEN today, too windy for Marte, but a crew of us pretty randomly hooked up in the slack country and six of us – Tim, Mattias, Ted, Chris, and Dan and I toured up to the ‘Officina’ an area of more chutes, etc. including some pretty gorgeous boot packing straight up along ridge lines. I did none of the trail breaking and am still utterly exhausted. The guys did not help my ego by continously exclaiming how EASY it was being last. Almost all of them are six footer guys with long legs that can step up stuff I have to crawl up. (mattias, thank god - is not six foot and understands my pain)
It was all worth it before we even started down - but we picked the right angle on the face, and had gorgeous snow.
Wonderful wonderful couple of days. If the wind doesn't die down, if marte doesn't open - more touring tomorrow! So for now - BED!
Monday, July 6, 2009
awesome awesome day today. Last two days its been storming here in Las Lenas, this morning it dawned clear - and the powder day was ON. Say about 1 and a half feet fresh.
Ted (roommate) flies past me on a first run, which is just NOT on, so I POINT my skis down a 200 foot face and straight line it. I'm so close with my skis - being comfortable really letting them run the way they are supposed to.
Anyway- awesome three runs off the quad chair then Volcano opens - and we move over and have an even more powder-y run down through the gully -Just like shooting womprats in Beggar's Canyon.
THEN after two runs - that's skied out - Marte's closed, so we start this rather epic boot pack up avalanche debris to access a face. 30 mins of suffering later we lay down the best lines anyone got today. Then we did again - but went even higher. Then I was DONE. Later people would ask - what did you do today - and I'd say - you know those lines on the main face?
;)
Tomorrow is my birthday and word is Marte is going to open.
Ted (roommate) flies past me on a first run, which is just NOT on, so I POINT my skis down a 200 foot face and straight line it. I'm so close with my skis - being comfortable really letting them run the way they are supposed to.
Anyway- awesome three runs off the quad chair then Volcano opens - and we move over and have an even more powder-y run down through the gully -Just like shooting womprats in Beggar's Canyon.
THEN after two runs - that's skied out - Marte's closed, so we start this rather epic boot pack up avalanche debris to access a face. 30 mins of suffering later we lay down the best lines anyone got today. Then we did again - but went even higher. Then I was DONE. Later people would ask - what did you do today - and I'd say - you know those lines on the main face?
;)
Tomorrow is my birthday and word is Marte is going to open.
Friday, July 3, 2009
MARTE
So after that last optimisitc post, marte did not open. BUT IT DID OPEN TODAY.
There was a bit of a thing last night so most people in my place weren't up for the 9 am start. Headed out by myself and bump into Jose - the ex-ski patrol / guide who also had a feeling about marte opening.
Cue the waiting. Getting to the top of marte is a journey of three lifts, and patience. As Jose warned me : Be ready to be disappointed.
5 mins for the bottom poma to open. 30 mins for the next chairlift to open (winds already beginning to pick up). Then at least a 45 min wait at the bottom of marte- waiting for the ski patrol to give the go ahead. During this time a core group had formed - mostly gringos- and Jose gathered us together with a "who is here for the season? Now I tell you - be mean. People here get killed every year here and its because of the damn rookies skiing over our heads and causing avalanches. So you see someone - you yell at them, hit them, whatever. I almost hit someone last year who started skiing down ontop of my partner. We need to control it cause there is no one else to do it."
We got first chair :) The chair was open for approx 90 mins before it was shut down due to high winds, and in that time Jose and I managed to hit it twice.
First run - down a chute/coloir called mericioles that went on and on and on. Awesome views - non- stop, not particularly steep but long and long and endless sweeping turns in untracked snow. Dumps you out above the Volcano chair where a crowd of people had gathered, watching us ski it. :)
Second run - Jose 'knew this chute' and after carefully stepping over piles of rocks (my bases!) we enter it from the side and way steeper! Narrower - you actually had to ski it. Again so long. He let me go first this time and it was just awesome awesome fun. My sluff chasing me down 'don't stop' Jose had warned me - no where to exit until the bottom.
I had a good season at Revelstoke, worked on my skiing lots, but it did disappoint a little in these big lines with good snow. Good good day today!! Now must go buy Jose a beer :)
There was a bit of a thing last night so most people in my place weren't up for the 9 am start. Headed out by myself and bump into Jose - the ex-ski patrol / guide who also had a feeling about marte opening.
Cue the waiting. Getting to the top of marte is a journey of three lifts, and patience. As Jose warned me : Be ready to be disappointed.
5 mins for the bottom poma to open. 30 mins for the next chairlift to open (winds already beginning to pick up). Then at least a 45 min wait at the bottom of marte- waiting for the ski patrol to give the go ahead. During this time a core group had formed - mostly gringos- and Jose gathered us together with a "who is here for the season? Now I tell you - be mean. People here get killed every year here and its because of the damn rookies skiing over our heads and causing avalanches. So you see someone - you yell at them, hit them, whatever. I almost hit someone last year who started skiing down ontop of my partner. We need to control it cause there is no one else to do it."
We got first chair :) The chair was open for approx 90 mins before it was shut down due to high winds, and in that time Jose and I managed to hit it twice.
First run - down a chute/coloir called mericioles that went on and on and on. Awesome views - non- stop, not particularly steep but long and long and endless sweeping turns in untracked snow. Dumps you out above the Volcano chair where a crowd of people had gathered, watching us ski it. :)
Second run - Jose 'knew this chute' and after carefully stepping over piles of rocks (my bases!) we enter it from the side and way steeper! Narrower - you actually had to ski it. Again so long. He let me go first this time and it was just awesome awesome fun. My sluff chasing me down 'don't stop' Jose had warned me - no where to exit until the bottom.
I had a good season at Revelstoke, worked on my skiing lots, but it did disappoint a little in these big lines with good snow. Good good day today!! Now must go buy Jose a beer :)
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Its 10:40 pm - I can hear the bombs going off as the patrol does avalanche control. It's snowed all day today - about 15 cm - plus wind loading. Tomorrow its supposed to clear and with it, Marte off-piste will open. Setting alarms!
Marte is *the chair* it's rated as one of , if not the best, lift in the world for the terrain it accesses. It spiders its way up to the top of Las Lenas, precariously balanced along the ridges, angled towers protected against avalanches by giant ship-brows of cement. If patrol doesn't bomb during the storms, they risk that when they do, the avalanche they trigger will decable the lift. Not from the snow knocking the chairs down, but the percussion effect.
"The Marte chair accesses more expert terrain than any other lift on this planet. No skier could ever find - let alone ski - all the possibilities. It defines extreme."
ps. Don't worry mom! being safe!
Marte is *the chair* it's rated as one of , if not the best, lift in the world for the terrain it accesses. It spiders its way up to the top of Las Lenas, precariously balanced along the ridges, angled towers protected against avalanches by giant ship-brows of cement. If patrol doesn't bomb during the storms, they risk that when they do, the avalanche they trigger will decable the lift. Not from the snow knocking the chairs down, but the percussion effect.
"The Marte chair accesses more expert terrain than any other lift on this planet. No skier could ever find - let alone ski - all the possibilities. It defines extreme."
ps. Don't worry mom! being safe!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Skiing!
Yes a post about skiing! Cause the skiing today was awesome.
For the last two days Las Lenas has been in a storm. Howling winds - zero visibility (yes I tried to ski anyway) then today woke up to see a sliver of blue beyong the clouds.
"Ted," I said. "I'm going skiing, I think its going to be a good day."
AND IT WAS IT WAS AWESOME
First we (Ted, Jason and Allison - jason and Allison are two aussie snowboarders living upstairs) drop off this side (right off the chairlift)- covering about 600 vertical feet on a consistent slope, untracked. Knee deep plus powder, smooth, light, my skis are sailing! Then get this - we do this about four more times before it starts getting tracked out. Just people here don't ski off-piste. And blue skies? Crystal blue! Gorgeous sun! Just one of those days that are so perfect.
Then they open another lift and basically -REPEAT - although here the snow was a bit heavier.
And the best news of all? they haven't even opened the main chair lift yet. Perhaps tomorrow. That's when its heading to a whole new level - couloirs, chutes, massive faces.
For the last two days Las Lenas has been in a storm. Howling winds - zero visibility (yes I tried to ski anyway) then today woke up to see a sliver of blue beyong the clouds.
"Ted," I said. "I'm going skiing, I think its going to be a good day."
AND IT WAS IT WAS AWESOME
First we (Ted, Jason and Allison - jason and Allison are two aussie snowboarders living upstairs) drop off this side (right off the chairlift)- covering about 600 vertical feet on a consistent slope, untracked. Knee deep plus powder, smooth, light, my skis are sailing! Then get this - we do this about four more times before it starts getting tracked out. Just people here don't ski off-piste. And blue skies? Crystal blue! Gorgeous sun! Just one of those days that are so perfect.
Then they open another lift and basically -REPEAT - although here the snow was a bit heavier.
And the best news of all? they haven't even opened the main chair lift yet. Perhaps tomorrow. That's when its heading to a whole new level - couloirs, chutes, massive faces.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Yesterday Las Lenas opened proper!
And on their first day they offer free skiing to everyone.
Which is an awesome idea. Because it honest to god brings out every single beginner skier in the Mendoza province
Sure this packs the beginner lifts, which is annoying because the beginner lifts are pretty much the only way to get to the rest of the resort BUT your long wait is more than rewarded in the pure spectacule of hundreds of beginner skiers skiing down (or trying to get up) the same beginner slope.
Skiers running into snowboarders running into skiers.
People going straight down the hill, straight across the hill. One gentleman quietly muttering 'meirde' under his breath while accelerating towards the lift line.
And the poma lift!
People couldn't get on it, and once they got on it they couldn't stay on it, and once they fell off it they couldn't get out of the way before the next person ran into them. So just pile ups - five skiers/snowboarders thick- as one would fall off, the next would haplessly run into them and fall, equipment limbs all tangled, and then a third and four person would helpfully throw themselves onto the mix until a liftee would take pity, stop the lift, run up, and sort it all out.
"the gay pogo stick from hell' was how one exasperated (although non-pc) snowboarder described the poma lift.
And the outfits!
One peices, jeans, massive sunglasses, no hats (definitely no helmets). Rear-entry boots galore. Skies from at least the 80s.
As for the actual skiing - needs a bit more snow to go off piste -we met up with Adam (runs a touring company out of Mendoza, used to film for Warren Miller Productions) who showed us around - but a bit too thin snowpack for my tastes) But we're all eyeing a storm that is supposed to be moving in tomorrow. Here hopes is comes.
Ted! the Roommate has shown up, and he's cool and awesome. Les keeps on trying to get me out on another tour and I' m like dude - the chair lifts are now running!!!!!!!
The place (apartment) is a bit of a disaster:
- fridge doesn't close
- lights burnt out
- shower clogged
- huge drafts
But whatever. Came here to ski afterall!
ps. just meet Yaya The Famous Mendoza Womanizer. Eh.
;)
eta: Yaya turned out to be a total sweetheart :)
And on their first day they offer free skiing to everyone.
Which is an awesome idea. Because it honest to god brings out every single beginner skier in the Mendoza province
Sure this packs the beginner lifts, which is annoying because the beginner lifts are pretty much the only way to get to the rest of the resort BUT your long wait is more than rewarded in the pure spectacule of hundreds of beginner skiers skiing down (or trying to get up) the same beginner slope.
Skiers running into snowboarders running into skiers.
People going straight down the hill, straight across the hill. One gentleman quietly muttering 'meirde' under his breath while accelerating towards the lift line.
And the poma lift!
People couldn't get on it, and once they got on it they couldn't stay on it, and once they fell off it they couldn't get out of the way before the next person ran into them. So just pile ups - five skiers/snowboarders thick- as one would fall off, the next would haplessly run into them and fall, equipment limbs all tangled, and then a third and four person would helpfully throw themselves onto the mix until a liftee would take pity, stop the lift, run up, and sort it all out.
"the gay pogo stick from hell' was how one exasperated (although non-pc) snowboarder described the poma lift.
And the outfits!
One peices, jeans, massive sunglasses, no hats (definitely no helmets). Rear-entry boots galore. Skies from at least the 80s.
As for the actual skiing - needs a bit more snow to go off piste -we met up with Adam (runs a touring company out of Mendoza, used to film for Warren Miller Productions) who showed us around - but a bit too thin snowpack for my tastes) But we're all eyeing a storm that is supposed to be moving in tomorrow. Here hopes is comes.
Ted! the Roommate has shown up, and he's cool and awesome. Les keeps on trying to get me out on another tour and I' m like dude - the chair lifts are now running!!!!!!!
The place (apartment) is a bit of a disaster:
- fridge doesn't close
- lights burnt out
- shower clogged
- huge drafts
But whatever. Came here to ski afterall!
ps. just meet Yaya The Famous Mendoza Womanizer. Eh.
;)
eta: Yaya turned out to be a total sweetheart :)
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Today (well yesterday now) I
- slept in
- went skiing
- Moved into my apartment (finally)
- Baked cookies
- Cooked diner
So something that is always fun about going somewhere new is that no one knows you at all, you can be anyone you want. For instance, remember my resolution to do more cooking /baking? Well today (the day I’ve finally moved into my new apartment) I wanted to make the place seem homey, and thought if I made cookies I’d both warm the place up and make it smell nice .So I did .
I baked chocolate chip cookies. I would have made them from scratch except the grocery store here didn’t have brown sugar or chocolate chips. Which I assumed was pretty essential. So I bought a cookie mix. HOWEVER it was not a guaranteed hole-in-one because the gas stove I have has no temperature indicators. It has an off, and on, and an unmarked dial. BUT I guessed, kept an eye on the cookies and they turned out great. Then I went around and gave them to Jose and Les. Et voila. I bake.
THEN feeling on a roll, I head up to Les place for diner – where I proceed to cut up tomatoes, green peppers, onions, grate some cheese, fry up some eggs and make a pretty good scramble if I may say so myself. But see, Les doesn’t know I don’t cook – so when I got tired of grating cheese, I just said “I find it really easy to over-cheese eggs.” And stopped.
OR
“Well we could do omelettes – but in general when its this heavy on the vegetables – I prefer to just scramble it together.”
I didn’t know what to put in the pan so tossed in some olive oil - I didn’t measure it. I just sort of poured a bit into the pan. Then watched/listened to it sizzle. (I later tried to wash the dishes with olive oil which was less successful).
But anyway. Cooking/Baking success, and for the rest of the winter, I’m just going to pretend I’m an accomplished (or at least regular cook-er) and just cook decisively.
Also went ski touring again today. Started out with Les – but he was aiming for a peak – and there was no way I was going to make it that far. So instead I bailed earlier and headed down something that could possibly, charitably, be called a hill. Got like five turns in on super inconsistent conditions. But really, I’m just trying to get into shape. Plus another gorgeous gorgeous day. So no complaints.
And that was day three in Las Lenas.
- slept in
- went skiing
- Moved into my apartment (finally)
- Baked cookies
- Cooked diner
So something that is always fun about going somewhere new is that no one knows you at all, you can be anyone you want. For instance, remember my resolution to do more cooking /baking? Well today (the day I’ve finally moved into my new apartment) I wanted to make the place seem homey, and thought if I made cookies I’d both warm the place up and make it smell nice .So I did .
I baked chocolate chip cookies. I would have made them from scratch except the grocery store here didn’t have brown sugar or chocolate chips. Which I assumed was pretty essential. So I bought a cookie mix. HOWEVER it was not a guaranteed hole-in-one because the gas stove I have has no temperature indicators. It has an off, and on, and an unmarked dial. BUT I guessed, kept an eye on the cookies and they turned out great. Then I went around and gave them to Jose and Les. Et voila. I bake.
THEN feeling on a roll, I head up to Les place for diner – where I proceed to cut up tomatoes, green peppers, onions, grate some cheese, fry up some eggs and make a pretty good scramble if I may say so myself. But see, Les doesn’t know I don’t cook – so when I got tired of grating cheese, I just said “I find it really easy to over-cheese eggs.” And stopped.
OR
“Well we could do omelettes – but in general when its this heavy on the vegetables – I prefer to just scramble it together.”
I didn’t know what to put in the pan so tossed in some olive oil - I didn’t measure it. I just sort of poured a bit into the pan. Then watched/listened to it sizzle. (I later tried to wash the dishes with olive oil which was less successful).
But anyway. Cooking/Baking success, and for the rest of the winter, I’m just going to pretend I’m an accomplished (or at least regular cook-er) and just cook decisively.
Also went ski touring again today. Started out with Les – but he was aiming for a peak – and there was no way I was going to make it that far. So instead I bailed earlier and headed down something that could possibly, charitably, be called a hill. Got like five turns in on super inconsistent conditions. But really, I’m just trying to get into shape. Plus another gorgeous gorgeous day. So no complaints.
And that was day three in Las Lenas.
Monday, June 22, 2009
So – since last update
- Les and I got a ride with Lucino out of San Rafael to Las Lenas
- Get there to find out that my apartment isn’t ready. Spend a night in Les’ place, and now camping out in Jose’s place while I wait.
- Las Lenas is still officially closed – but opening this weekend.
- Snow snow everywhere
- Very weird to be right smack back in the middle of winter. Wearing layers non-stop, ice covered roads / walkways. Cold. Cold. Cold.
- Yesterday Les and I opened the Las Lenas backcountry.
- Las Lenas is in a valley – one side of the valley is the ski resort, the other is military lands (backcountry). Ohmygod was it tough for me. Two months of not doing very much exercise, plus the alititde, plus Les – who is training to be a guide and so spends ALL his time hiking/climbing/skiing. Les broke trail pretty much the entire way and I was still about ready to throw in the towel half way up.
I fell over at one point and lay there for 45 seconds just trying to summon the energy to brush the snow off my face.
- Ski-forded my first stream on the way up – balancing skis across the tops of rocks and stepping very very carefully (bases!)
- On the way back down we were almost there and so instead applied the brute force method and walked straight through it (we ended up at a different place at the river- couldn’t have skied across it). My liners are now absolutely soaked. Trying to dry them.
- But the scenery. This place is nuts on the scenery department. Just endless folds of mountains. You could ski a different line each day you are here and still not do half of them.
- It’s overwhelming, actually. The space, the mountains, the blue ski, the whiteness, the emptiness, the coldness, the sun.
Luckily human beings are good at adapting!
- Les and I got a ride with Lucino out of San Rafael to Las Lenas
- Get there to find out that my apartment isn’t ready. Spend a night in Les’ place, and now camping out in Jose’s place while I wait.
- Las Lenas is still officially closed – but opening this weekend.
- Snow snow everywhere
- Very weird to be right smack back in the middle of winter. Wearing layers non-stop, ice covered roads / walkways. Cold. Cold. Cold.
- Yesterday Les and I opened the Las Lenas backcountry.
- Las Lenas is in a valley – one side of the valley is the ski resort, the other is military lands (backcountry). Ohmygod was it tough for me. Two months of not doing very much exercise, plus the alititde, plus Les – who is training to be a guide and so spends ALL his time hiking/climbing/skiing. Les broke trail pretty much the entire way and I was still about ready to throw in the towel half way up.
I fell over at one point and lay there for 45 seconds just trying to summon the energy to brush the snow off my face.
- Ski-forded my first stream on the way up – balancing skis across the tops of rocks and stepping very very carefully (bases!)
- On the way back down we were almost there and so instead applied the brute force method and walked straight through it (we ended up at a different place at the river- couldn’t have skied across it). My liners are now absolutely soaked. Trying to dry them.
- But the scenery. This place is nuts on the scenery department. Just endless folds of mountains. You could ski a different line each day you are here and still not do half of them.
- It’s overwhelming, actually. The space, the mountains, the blue ski, the whiteness, the emptiness, the coldness, the sun.
Luckily human beings are good at adapting!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
this was going to be a post about how a woman buying a coat, managed to bring the entire supermakert to a halt for 20 mins and my head almost exploded because I just don't do well in supermarkets. Supermarkets are not one of my skillsets.
It could be about how mendoza is the worst place to NOT break an ankle (there are moats, gaping holes, missing stairs! Nijinsky (died - schizophrenia), Nureyev (died - aids) and the russian ballet corps couldn't walk down these streets without tripping all over each other)
It's still about how there is still no snow.
It could even be about Iran and how I keep embaressing myself by tearing up over twitters ('allergies!').
[
friend (who sent me the #): it's like Les Miz, in a 140 characters or less!
me: and real!
]
But I think its going to be about my friend (Rosemary) who just did the craziest, scariest thing ever - and became a mom today.
An Ode to Lucy on her first day.
Congratulations.
You made it.
Only just got here, really
But I have to warn you
it's only getting started.
and you -
you are going to be very busy.
You've got :
Inches to grow
Words to learn
(that's the easy bit - then:)
Ideas to speak,
Character to build.
(and even)
Mistakes to make.
(sorry - but true)
(until you)
Lead by example
Follow with humility
and
(today and everyday)
live.
It may seem a lot,
that maybe you're a little small.
But I 'm not worried.
Cause you already got what you need most
They're my friends, so I can tell you
That they love better than most
and you best of all.
(Good old Stanley, pinch hitting until I have a better 'new baby - yey!' pic)
It could be about how mendoza is the worst place to NOT break an ankle (there are moats, gaping holes, missing stairs! Nijinsky (died - schizophrenia), Nureyev (died - aids) and the russian ballet corps couldn't walk down these streets without tripping all over each other)
It's still about how there is still no snow.
It could even be about Iran and how I keep embaressing myself by tearing up over twitters ('allergies!').
[
friend (who sent me the #): it's like Les Miz, in a 140 characters or less!
me: and real!
]
But I think its going to be about my friend (Rosemary) who just did the craziest, scariest thing ever - and became a mom today.
An Ode to Lucy on her first day.
Congratulations.
You made it.
Only just got here, really
But I have to warn you
it's only getting started.
and you -
you are going to be very busy.
You've got :
Inches to grow
Words to learn
(that's the easy bit - then:)
Ideas to speak,
Character to build.
(and even)
Mistakes to make.
(sorry - but true)
(until you)
Lead by example
Follow with humility
and
(today and everyday)
live.
It may seem a lot,
that maybe you're a little small.
But I 'm not worried.
Cause you already got what you need most
They're my friends, so I can tell you
That they love better than most
and you best of all.
(Good old Stanley, pinch hitting until I have a better 'new baby - yey!' pic)
Saturday, June 13, 2009
sat morning ramblings ....
last night, i was going to do an art night. I had this idea - that if movies could be re-booted (star trek, batman) why not art? So, like, take a famous work of art and ... re -boot it. (exactly what this meant - well that was the plan for the night). (The most astonishing thing about this idea is that I had it *before* i started drinking)
[not that it is all that original of an idea - I mean, art re-interprets/builds on past art all the time]
bu then there were these crazy swedes, and these bottles of red wine, and the plan kind of disintegrated.
Anyway - did not happen. Then this morning, work up to find a giant influx of backpackers to this previously quite sleepy hostel. In the giant bed/room shuffle that happened, there was something like 30 people and their luggage hanging out in the common room (myself included).
With time to kill, I decided that before I attempted to reboot renaissance art, perhaps I should actually study it.
Et voila. a more care-warn (almost 'chipped' )interpretation of Michelangelo's Pieta.
I'm not sure what my re-boot idea is.
When people say 'you travel alone?' I think yes. I do. Part of it is the logistical issues of finding people to travel with, but part of it is - Like Virginia's Woolf ' a room of one's own' - a person needs more than physical space to create. Even more important - its creating the mental space of one's own. When you travel alone, all your usual influences (good and bad) slowly fade, your socially-constructed history fades. You have more 'space'.
Why create? Cause its SO MUCH FUN!
[i once spent three days by myself on a beach doing the absolute bare minumun. Just sitting there watching the waves. Because I wanted to see what I would think about after three days of absolutely nothing. It turns out that I didn't think of much. But it was only three days.]
uh. have no idea where I was going with this post.
Michelangelo's Pieta. Just staggering.
My version is like - what it would look like after it had been dropped down a flight of stairs. How's that for a re-boot??!?!
;)
[not that it is all that original of an idea - I mean, art re-interprets/builds on past art all the time]
bu then there were these crazy swedes, and these bottles of red wine, and the plan kind of disintegrated.
Anyway - did not happen. Then this morning, work up to find a giant influx of backpackers to this previously quite sleepy hostel. In the giant bed/room shuffle that happened, there was something like 30 people and their luggage hanging out in the common room (myself included).
With time to kill, I decided that before I attempted to reboot renaissance art, perhaps I should actually study it.
Et voila. a more care-warn (almost 'chipped' )interpretation of Michelangelo's Pieta.
I'm not sure what my re-boot idea is.
When people say 'you travel alone?' I think yes. I do. Part of it is the logistical issues of finding people to travel with, but part of it is - Like Virginia's Woolf ' a room of one's own' - a person needs more than physical space to create. Even more important - its creating the mental space of one's own. When you travel alone, all your usual influences (good and bad) slowly fade, your socially-constructed history fades. You have more 'space'.
Why create? Cause its SO MUCH FUN!
[i once spent three days by myself on a beach doing the absolute bare minumun. Just sitting there watching the waves. Because I wanted to see what I would think about after three days of absolutely nothing. It turns out that I didn't think of much. But it was only three days.]
uh. have no idea where I was going with this post.
Michelangelo's Pieta. Just staggering.
My version is like - what it would look like after it had been dropped down a flight of stairs. How's that for a re-boot??!?!
;)
Thursday, June 11, 2009
It is tough to be a dog or a dog-lover in Argentina.
In Buenos Aires – its fine – sure there are strays, but they are crowded out by the number of well cared for dogs, bundled up in coats and booties, enthusiastically dragging their dogwalkers through the streets, chasing after balls and Frisbees in the dogparks. Buenos Aires has a North American approach to pet ownership (they prefer ‘European’).
(Buenos Aires dogs on their walk)
Outside of Buenos Aires, not so much. Here in Mendoza, there are a lot of strays. They join you on your walk, perfectly pacing you. Today, I was joined by a black lab mix, who was probably about a year old. Matted coat, but bright eyes, lolling tongue who followed me for ten blocks, waited with me at the lights, crossed with me, and continued with me up towards the nearby park. When they do this – they are so well behaved it is heart breaking. When you come out of stores, they'll be patiently sitting there, waiting.
I refused to make eye contact. Refused to speak to him. Absolutely ignored him. He followed me anyway.
I’m walking next to the park (between the park and a busy road), Felix at my heels, tail wagging, when suddenly there is a blast of barking. To my left, 20 feet away, a pack of approx 10 dogs erupt from the underbush, charging towards me. No rotweillers, no dobermans, no german shepherds, nothing really *big*. I think: well at least my shots are all up to date. Felix crowds my legs at the exact moment I realize they aren’t after me, they are after him.
Sure enough a terrier-cross nips him on the rump, he yelps, then he’s bitten again as they drive him out onto the street. There is this horrible moment as he bolts into the heavy two-lane traffic, and there are cars swerving, honking, and I’m absolutely sure he’s going to be hit. He’s running back and forth between cars, until he finally makes it to the other side.
The other dogs immediately disperse- mission accomplished.
I think: he was shadowing me in the hopes that I would provide him safe passage. That I would have yelled at those dogs. Or somehow protected him (instead I almost watched him get killed).
But its so hard. You can’t rescue all of the dogs, you can’t even rescue one – trying to get a dog out of these countries is harder than getting them in to Canada (I know, cause I tried to adopt one from Ecuador, and the paperwork and time involved.) You would think I was trying to export some valuable ancient artifact out of the country - how difficult they made it. They should be giving these dogs away.
Yesterday, in that same park, I had to step around a dead Doberman just lying on the sidewalk. I don’t know if it had chocked on something, or if it had a massive tumour that had finally suffocated it, but it had something the shape of a beer can lodged in its distended throat.
And then today, walking back home, there was an older german shepherd – trying to stand up. It looked like it had a stroke. Bent almost 90 degrees, half his body no longer working properly. Hit by a car? Who knows? It could barely walk.
Anyway. Sorry for the gloomy post. But its definitely one of the harder things about traveling for me. At least its not a kid, I guess.
Some dog poetry and sketch. i did this so long ago - i can't even remember who it was for. maybe it was for me!
In Buenos Aires – its fine – sure there are strays, but they are crowded out by the number of well cared for dogs, bundled up in coats and booties, enthusiastically dragging their dogwalkers through the streets, chasing after balls and Frisbees in the dogparks. Buenos Aires has a North American approach to pet ownership (they prefer ‘European’).
(Buenos Aires dogs on their walk)Outside of Buenos Aires, not so much. Here in Mendoza, there are a lot of strays. They join you on your walk, perfectly pacing you. Today, I was joined by a black lab mix, who was probably about a year old. Matted coat, but bright eyes, lolling tongue who followed me for ten blocks, waited with me at the lights, crossed with me, and continued with me up towards the nearby park. When they do this – they are so well behaved it is heart breaking. When you come out of stores, they'll be patiently sitting there, waiting.
I refused to make eye contact. Refused to speak to him. Absolutely ignored him. He followed me anyway.
I’m walking next to the park (between the park and a busy road), Felix at my heels, tail wagging, when suddenly there is a blast of barking. To my left, 20 feet away, a pack of approx 10 dogs erupt from the underbush, charging towards me. No rotweillers, no dobermans, no german shepherds, nothing really *big*. I think: well at least my shots are all up to date. Felix crowds my legs at the exact moment I realize they aren’t after me, they are after him.
Sure enough a terrier-cross nips him on the rump, he yelps, then he’s bitten again as they drive him out onto the street. There is this horrible moment as he bolts into the heavy two-lane traffic, and there are cars swerving, honking, and I’m absolutely sure he’s going to be hit. He’s running back and forth between cars, until he finally makes it to the other side.
The other dogs immediately disperse- mission accomplished.
I think: he was shadowing me in the hopes that I would provide him safe passage. That I would have yelled at those dogs. Or somehow protected him (instead I almost watched him get killed).
But its so hard. You can’t rescue all of the dogs, you can’t even rescue one – trying to get a dog out of these countries is harder than getting them in to Canada (I know, cause I tried to adopt one from Ecuador, and the paperwork and time involved.) You would think I was trying to export some valuable ancient artifact out of the country - how difficult they made it. They should be giving these dogs away.
Yesterday, in that same park, I had to step around a dead Doberman just lying on the sidewalk. I don’t know if it had chocked on something, or if it had a massive tumour that had finally suffocated it, but it had something the shape of a beer can lodged in its distended throat.
And then today, walking back home, there was an older german shepherd – trying to stand up. It looked like it had a stroke. Bent almost 90 degrees, half his body no longer working properly. Hit by a car? Who knows? It could barely walk.
Anyway. Sorry for the gloomy post. But its definitely one of the harder things about traveling for me. At least its not a kid, I guess.
Some dog poetry and sketch. i did this so long ago - i can't even remember who it was for. maybe it was for me!
my - restaurant in the wall
it's just a sketch - so I'm not going to disect it & my bizarre perspective/shading choices. Although my favourite bit? is how the bottles themselves look under the influence.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
help for the food-ignorant
This is a post about food [what it isn't is a post about snow ... :( ] My understanding of the las lenas grocery store situation is that there is a grocery store, in the sense that a well-stocked 7-11 is a grocery store.
Now I am one of the few people over the age of eight who would be fine with 3 months of grazing through the isles of a 7-11 - as generally I am pretty basic and flexible - bread? peanut butter? Hello lunch! there's a toaster? breakfast! Add a banana and a bottle of wine? Dinner! (and yes, I'm sure argentinian 7-11s have wine).
I mean I basically ate couscous, tuna, and cliff bars for three months on my bike trip.
Its not that I don't like food that requres more time & energy. I do ! But I also like food that doesn't. So its a toss up.
But I'm tempted to change my spots. make this the winter where I overturn my apathy and laziness and embrace cooking/baking.
So far my list of staples is:
- oatmeal
- pasta
- rice (brown)
- brown sugar
- white sugar
- all purpose flour
- yeast (for making bread of course! ha ha ha - i cant even write that with a straight face)
- a hunking block of cheese
- choclate chips
- vanilla?
- salt
- beans (chick peas, garbanzo beans, black beans, lima beans, kidney beans, soy beans)
- nuts (almonds, walnuts)
- raisons
- cranberries
- soup
Things that don't make sense to buy bulk ahead of time
-eggs
-fresh vegetables
- milk
- butter
- meats
- fruits (lately I've been eating oranges non-stop. No fear of scurvy here.)
Anything obvious I'm missing?
Now I am one of the few people over the age of eight who would be fine with 3 months of grazing through the isles of a 7-11 - as generally I am pretty basic and flexible - bread? peanut butter? Hello lunch! there's a toaster? breakfast! Add a banana and a bottle of wine? Dinner! (and yes, I'm sure argentinian 7-11s have wine).
I mean I basically ate couscous, tuna, and cliff bars for three months on my bike trip.
Its not that I don't like food that requres more time & energy. I do ! But I also like food that doesn't. So its a toss up.
But I'm tempted to change my spots. make this the winter where I overturn my apathy and laziness and embrace cooking/baking.
So far my list of staples is:
- oatmeal
- pasta
- rice (brown)
- brown sugar
- white sugar
- all purpose flour
- yeast (for making bread of course! ha ha ha - i cant even write that with a straight face)
- a hunking block of cheese
- choclate chips
- vanilla?
- salt
- beans (chick peas, garbanzo beans, black beans, lima beans, kidney beans, soy beans)
- nuts (almonds, walnuts)
- raisons
- cranberries
- soup
Things that don't make sense to buy bulk ahead of time
-eggs
-fresh vegetables
- milk
- butter
- meats
- fruits (lately I've been eating oranges non-stop. No fear of scurvy here.)
Anything obvious I'm missing?
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
i warn you. I've had a glass of wine (or two) - i tried to order a glass but then got back this little bottle. it's good :)
Right now I'm updating from a little restaurant on the main strip of mendoza (wine capital of Argentina).
- food in Argentina is taken seriously. At even the cheapiest diner you are likely to have your servers wearing bow ties, and *serving* you your food.
- I'm at this little classy restaurant-in-the-wall (maybe I"ll try to sketch it) beause earlier today I was walking down the street, saw a menu posted in a window, and I had barely even altered my path to get close enough to read it when the door flies open and out pops this little rotund man in a tuxedo vest.
- Menu? English menu? we have coffee, we have food! tell me what are you looking for?
[Since i perfer to be invisible unless I wish to be noticed, this totally flustered me. I *blushed* and stammered and made faces]
But he was so endearing, that I when I told him I was just looking, I also said 'and I'll come back' and asked him his hours.
- anytime! comeback anytime!
- When I walked in this evening he gave me this massive grin. So I'm glad I kept my word.
The food was pretty good too. and the wi-fi nice. the music is sirius satellite. The same channel as when I sat in my friend Paula's kitchen, working on her morning sun-drenched table, cup of tea cooling beside me.
- eeeeeee i am so lucky- in my friends, family, opportunities and freedoms. must try to be a better person!
Right now I'm updating from a little restaurant on the main strip of mendoza (wine capital of Argentina).
- food in Argentina is taken seriously. At even the cheapiest diner you are likely to have your servers wearing bow ties, and *serving* you your food.
- I'm at this little classy restaurant-in-the-wall (maybe I"ll try to sketch it) beause earlier today I was walking down the street, saw a menu posted in a window, and I had barely even altered my path to get close enough to read it when the door flies open and out pops this little rotund man in a tuxedo vest.
- Menu? English menu? we have coffee, we have food! tell me what are you looking for?
[Since i perfer to be invisible unless I wish to be noticed, this totally flustered me. I *blushed* and stammered and made faces]
But he was so endearing, that I when I told him I was just looking, I also said 'and I'll come back' and asked him his hours.
- anytime! comeback anytime!
- When I walked in this evening he gave me this massive grin. So I'm glad I kept my word.
The food was pretty good too. and the wi-fi nice. the music is sirius satellite. The same channel as when I sat in my friend Paula's kitchen, working on her morning sun-drenched table, cup of tea cooling beside me.
- eeeeeee i am so lucky- in my friends, family, opportunities and freedoms. must try to be a better person!
altitude post
As someone who definitely feels altitude - here is my comparison
Revelstoke (bottom)= 512m
Mendoza = 760m
Boulder, CO = 1650m
Sherman's Pass, WA = 1699m
Flagstaff, AZ = 2142m (somewhere about where I start noticing altitude - in terms of performance)
Revelstoke (top)=2225m
Las Lenas (bottom) = 2240m
Grand Canyon (North Rim) = 2438m
Las Lenas (mid) = 2835m
Las Lenas (top) = 3430m
Lhasa, Tibet = 3658 m (sick! but got better .. )
Everest Base Camp (Tibet side) = 5208 metres
eh. should be ok. The first two weeks - probably will find the top of Las Lenas a bit tough.
eta: Oh - made it to Mendoza after a terrific 14 hour-ish bus ride. I paid the extra 5 dollars or so for the 'suite' class and it was excellent. Chair into bed. Lots of space. Heaven! AND still have all my stuff! Only one more leg to go - to Las Lenas.
Oh but still no snow. COM'ON SNOW!
Revelstoke (bottom)= 512m
Mendoza = 760m
Boulder, CO = 1650m
Sherman's Pass, WA = 1699m
Flagstaff, AZ = 2142m (somewhere about where I start noticing altitude - in terms of performance)
Revelstoke (top)=2225m
Las Lenas (bottom) = 2240m
Grand Canyon (North Rim) = 2438m
Las Lenas (mid) = 2835m
Las Lenas (top) = 3430m
Lhasa, Tibet = 3658 m (sick! but got better .. )
Everest Base Camp (Tibet side) = 5208 metres
eh. should be ok. The first two weeks - probably will find the top of Las Lenas a bit tough.
eta: Oh - made it to Mendoza after a terrific 14 hour-ish bus ride. I paid the extra 5 dollars or so for the 'suite' class and it was excellent. Chair into bed. Lots of space. Heaven! AND still have all my stuff! Only one more leg to go - to Las Lenas.
Oh but still no snow. COM'ON SNOW!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Eva Peron
Until I was uhm… 22 - I used to say ‘I believe in equality for women, but no – I am not a feminist.” I figured, I’m a girl, I’m a geek, I’m somewhat *odd* – I’m fighting battles on enough fronts as it is. The feminists with their poetry, their marches, and their murky agendas could do without me.
Then I looked up the *definition* of feminism, discovered it was *equality* and was like ‘damnit! – I am a feminist.”
I then become a bit of an annoyance to family members and certain guy friends as I’d demand ‘are you a feminist?’ and if they said no, or more usually ‘I don’t know’ – I’d respond: ‘ oh so you don’t believe in equality? Then you can stand over there with your good friend HITLER’
Which is to say, I don’t feel like I organically came to feminism as much as it was foisted upon my aggreived shoulders – feminism is equality? Really? That’s it? This still requires a movement? I have to explicitly opt into equality? How *dumb*. Who are these non-feminists and why aren’t they in jail?
ALL OF THIS is a long way to say, Eva Peron, loved by the feminist movement, wasn’t really on my radar when I arrived in Buenos Aires. Sure I was vaguely aware of her thanks to my sisters taste in musicals (I can warble out ‘Don’t cry for me Argentina’ with the worst of them’) , but it took over ten days before I got around to the Eva Peron museum or learning anything about her life.
The first thing I learned was that she died at 33. The first thing I thought was: man, I’ve got to get going on my life and do something.
Bare facts:
- born out of wedlock in 1919 (at a time when society discriminated against illegitimate children), although it was totally accepted/ encouraged that a man would have mistresses. (LOGIC FAIL)
- age 15 to 25 ish rose to some status/success in the entertainment industry
- age 25 meet Juan Peron at a charity benefit
- age 26 married Juan
- age 27 Juan Peron is elected president (he was 49) - his first wife died of cancer, Eva was second, his third became his V-P and was later President after his death. Seems like a stand-up guy – too bad at age 58 he took a 14 year old mistress. Not to mention that he thought Mussolini was one of the greatest men of the century, and set his countries policy to harbour Nazi war criminals,
- Nonetheless –it was he that allowed her to sit and attend various meeting, who listened to her, who publicly supported her in a society that disapproved of her influence. Hats off to those that support logically correct/beneficial yet unpopular causes. (Although should be noted, it was hardly without benefit to himself – for while he may have been receiving the unwanted disapproval of his peers,
- Eva, by hook or by crook, was exploiting/ publicizing her humble origins, her delicate appearance, emphasising her ‘Virgin Mary’ parallels (a woman with zero sex-appeal, was a common descriptor) to gain massive support of the Argentina ‘Humbles’ or the poor working class. They adored her, nicknaming her their ‘little eva’ or Evita.
- Over the 6 years of Juan’s presidency (and through his arrest and subsequent release at the peoples demand) she became powerful in trade unions (on behalf of the labourers and their rights), championed woman’s right to vote, set up institutions for orphans and the elderly.
- Also: potentially was funnelling funds away from all these causes into a swiss bank account (Roger Ebert thinks so).
- Nominated for Vice-presidency which she had to decline due to her failing health (cervical cancer – drs hid her condition from her – one of the first recipients of chemotherapy).
- In order to be able to properly stand and wave from the campaign car, she had a special contraption built to hold her up, hidden under her coat and dress.
- At age 33 – Congress gave her the title : Spiritual Leader of the Nation.
- Then she died.
- Her body was embalmed and put on display while waiting for the monument to be finished. However, the gov’t was overthrown in a military coup, Juan fleed, and Evita’s body disappeared for 20 years. (Secretly buried under a false name in Italy).
- Eventually tracked down, returned to Argentina where it was buried in La Recoleta Cementary in her family’s tomb.
- The military gov’t , determined not to have any more disappearances of her body (fearing that a missing body = reappearance of the myth) took every measure to secure the body – it is said that her tomb could withstand a nuclear attack.
And what is her myth?
Latin American myths are more resistant than they seem to be. Not even the mass exodus of the Cuban raft people or the rapid decomposition and isolation of Fidel Castro's regime have eroded the triumphal myth of Ché Guevara, which remains alive in the dreams of thousands of young people in Latin America, Africa and Europe. Ché as well as Evita symbolize certain naive, but effective, beliefs: the hope for a better world; a life sacrificed on the altar of the disinherited, the humiliated, the poor of the earth. They are myths which somehow reproduce the image of Christ
Ironically, Eva Peron didn’t consider herself a feminist. She also had strong connections to Nazism.
I’m just saying.
;)
Then I looked up the *definition* of feminism, discovered it was *equality* and was like ‘damnit! – I am a feminist.”
I then become a bit of an annoyance to family members and certain guy friends as I’d demand ‘are you a feminist?’ and if they said no, or more usually ‘I don’t know’ – I’d respond: ‘ oh so you don’t believe in equality? Then you can stand over there with your good friend HITLER’
Which is to say, I don’t feel like I organically came to feminism as much as it was foisted upon my aggreived shoulders – feminism is equality? Really? That’s it? This still requires a movement? I have to explicitly opt into equality? How *dumb*. Who are these non-feminists and why aren’t they in jail?
ALL OF THIS is a long way to say, Eva Peron, loved by the feminist movement, wasn’t really on my radar when I arrived in Buenos Aires. Sure I was vaguely aware of her thanks to my sisters taste in musicals (I can warble out ‘Don’t cry for me Argentina’ with the worst of them’) , but it took over ten days before I got around to the Eva Peron museum or learning anything about her life.
The first thing I learned was that she died at 33. The first thing I thought was: man, I’ve got to get going on my life and do something.
Bare facts:
- born out of wedlock in 1919 (at a time when society discriminated against illegitimate children), although it was totally accepted/ encouraged that a man would have mistresses. (LOGIC FAIL)
- age 15 to 25 ish rose to some status/success in the entertainment industry
- age 25 meet Juan Peron at a charity benefit
- age 26 married Juan
- age 27 Juan Peron is elected president (he was 49) - his first wife died of cancer, Eva was second, his third became his V-P and was later President after his death. Seems like a stand-up guy – too bad at age 58 he took a 14 year old mistress. Not to mention that he thought Mussolini was one of the greatest men of the century, and set his countries policy to harbour Nazi war criminals,
- Nonetheless –it was he that allowed her to sit and attend various meeting, who listened to her, who publicly supported her in a society that disapproved of her influence. Hats off to those that support logically correct/beneficial yet unpopular causes. (Although should be noted, it was hardly without benefit to himself – for while he may have been receiving the unwanted disapproval of his peers,
- Eva, by hook or by crook, was exploiting/ publicizing her humble origins, her delicate appearance, emphasising her ‘Virgin Mary’ parallels (a woman with zero sex-appeal, was a common descriptor) to gain massive support of the Argentina ‘Humbles’ or the poor working class. They adored her, nicknaming her their ‘little eva’ or Evita.
- Over the 6 years of Juan’s presidency (and through his arrest and subsequent release at the peoples demand) she became powerful in trade unions (on behalf of the labourers and their rights), championed woman’s right to vote, set up institutions for orphans and the elderly.
- Also: potentially was funnelling funds away from all these causes into a swiss bank account (Roger Ebert thinks so).
- Nominated for Vice-presidency which she had to decline due to her failing health (cervical cancer – drs hid her condition from her – one of the first recipients of chemotherapy).
- In order to be able to properly stand and wave from the campaign car, she had a special contraption built to hold her up, hidden under her coat and dress.
- At age 33 – Congress gave her the title : Spiritual Leader of the Nation.
- Then she died.
- Her body was embalmed and put on display while waiting for the monument to be finished. However, the gov’t was overthrown in a military coup, Juan fleed, and Evita’s body disappeared for 20 years. (Secretly buried under a false name in Italy).
- Eventually tracked down, returned to Argentina where it was buried in La Recoleta Cementary in her family’s tomb.
- The military gov’t , determined not to have any more disappearances of her body (fearing that a missing body = reappearance of the myth) took every measure to secure the body – it is said that her tomb could withstand a nuclear attack.
And what is her myth?
Latin American myths are more resistant than they seem to be. Not even the mass exodus of the Cuban raft people or the rapid decomposition and isolation of Fidel Castro's regime have eroded the triumphal myth of Ché Guevara, which remains alive in the dreams of thousands of young people in Latin America, Africa and Europe. Ché as well as Evita symbolize certain naive, but effective, beliefs: the hope for a better world; a life sacrificed on the altar of the disinherited, the humiliated, the poor of the earth. They are myths which somehow reproduce the image of Christ
Ironically, Eva Peron didn’t consider herself a feminist. She also had strong connections to Nazism.
I’m just saying.
;)
Thursday, June 4, 2009
la recoleta cementary
"rest in peace" greets the visitor entering; "we wait for god" as they leave.
La Recoleta is the cementary for the who's who of Buenos Aires. Presidents are buried there, writers, Evita, newspaper barons, Che Guevara's family (although not Che - whose remains rest in Cuba)
Its a tiny city of the dead. Little stone houses lined up in streets. Not dissimilar to the houses competing with each other in the wealthy neighbourhood the cementary resides in. With doors, windows, skylights, and statutes. Elaborate carvings, gleaming marble.
I meet up with a tour, found the guide more interesting than any of the tombs, but managed to learn a thing or two anyway.
But first the guide! words do not do her justice, a tiny, hyperactive slightly hunched woman, with an amazing voice, flailing arms, facial expressions of muppet! a mixed-british accent with such a range - who 'is always hanging arounding the cementary so if you come back say hi'.
She even walked like a muppet!
an attempt!
She spoke of each tomb with an endearing and contemporary fondness, like they were all her wacky relatives.
But back to the graveyard. A Peron post is probably coming soon, so I'll just focus on the recoleta and ignore its most famous occupent (Eva Peron)
It has its ghosts - of a girl who was entombed alive on her 19th birthday after being falsely pronounced dead and buried- her coffin shuffled across her tomb as testement to her futile efforts to escape. It has numerous wealthy families - including one who buried their maid next to their tomb. Hands that went missing from corpses (an italian vandetta? thumbprints for secret swiss bank account?), victims of political assasinations, a girl who died when buried in an avalanche on her honeymoon (in her hotel bed!), a dedicated caretaker of la Recoleta who saved up all his money, bought a plot, commissioned a statute (of himself) from France - waited until it was delievered, and then, rumour has it, was so keen to complete - killed himself. It is an Argentinian Ghastly Crumb Tinies
Not all the tombs are in nice condition. A lot are falling to peices, coffins sliding out, weeds overrunning, statues slanting sideways. But its like a dense compilation of *life* - cause of course what is interesting about about a bunch of dead people but the lives they lived?
Except of course, the bizarre, unepected ways that they ended.
:)
As for me, still in Buenos Aires, and really? Not in a big hurry to get anywhere else. Which is a good thing because this city has its own schedule. Yesterday had breakfast at 1:00 pm. Which is a first ever for me. The lady next to me was on her first (maybe!) glass of wine for the day.
eta: another not great but hmmm.... not totally unsuccessful attempt at my degas copy.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Mendoza plans are being pushed out again - was originally leaving tomorrow, now maybe Sat. So far there is no snow in Las Lenas so uncertain whether the resort will even be open by the 12th. I could be panicking about what this implies about the upcoming season but just don't feel like it. I'm here. I'm having a good time. Awesome snow conditions will be awesome, but srsly - where's the challenge in bottomless powder anyway?
;)
[Plan B involves finding an Argentian Polo ranch to be a groom at in exchange for lessons, Plan C involes a bicycle, Tierra Del Fuego, Anchorage, Alaska, and a lot of pedaling]
Speaking of Las Lenas, I've been in contact with the guy who is renting out the seasonal apartments. He's like 'yeah when you get to Mendoza you should hook up with the others - the las lenas crew.'
Yey! there's a crew! excellent! it sounds so real! Of course at this point the 'seasonal crew' seems to be the half dozen or so people in the apartments. Hundreds of people go to revelstoke for the season - SIX go to Las Lenas? Maybe 12? There must be more right? Well - call me intrigued if nothing else.
Oh but he ends his email with this:
I warn you, Yaya [one of the Las Lenas crew] is a famous Mendoza womanizer, be careful, hahahaha
which cracks me up, but how to respond?
Thanks for the heads up? Sounds fun?
I think this yaya is the same guy who when I was trying to find a place in LL offered to share his room with me for a discout. ["Think about it - it's a lot of money. Besos!"]
hmm... Maybe I should take a page from a woman I met in Revelstoke, who I barely knew but admired her ability to be technically friendly without actually being friendly - and reply with the non-committal, positive, yet subtly dismissive:
'Cute!'
What else is going on ... the hostel has turned over - a new bunch of people so at least the Poutine nickname has died. They seem to be mostly at the end of their travels, so we all got together last night and they shared some absolute HORROR south america stories. The girl who got robbed between the airport and the hostel, the airport bus that got held up and emptied, one woman's atm card had been stolen and accounts emptied (even without the pin! something about the mafia). And of course the guy who got kidnapped in Peru.Since I'm flying out of Lima, Peru, I figure I should get a hold of which city that happened in and check it out. (JUST KIDDING MOM!!Of course I'm being totally safe!!!)
Bye!
eta: success! I'm at a coffee shop, ordered a 'cappucino' and guess what just arrived? The mythical latte!
;)
[Plan B involves finding an Argentian Polo ranch to be a groom at in exchange for lessons, Plan C involes a bicycle, Tierra Del Fuego, Anchorage, Alaska, and a lot of pedaling]
Speaking of Las Lenas, I've been in contact with the guy who is renting out the seasonal apartments. He's like 'yeah when you get to Mendoza you should hook up with the others - the las lenas crew.'
Yey! there's a crew! excellent! it sounds so real! Of course at this point the 'seasonal crew' seems to be the half dozen or so people in the apartments. Hundreds of people go to revelstoke for the season - SIX go to Las Lenas? Maybe 12? There must be more right? Well - call me intrigued if nothing else.
Oh but he ends his email with this:
I warn you, Yaya [one of the Las Lenas crew] is a famous Mendoza womanizer, be careful, hahahaha
which cracks me up, but how to respond?
Thanks for the heads up? Sounds fun?
I think this yaya is the same guy who when I was trying to find a place in LL offered to share his room with me for a discout. ["Think about it - it's a lot of money. Besos!"]
hmm... Maybe I should take a page from a woman I met in Revelstoke, who I barely knew but admired her ability to be technically friendly without actually being friendly - and reply with the non-committal, positive, yet subtly dismissive:
'Cute!'
What else is going on ... the hostel has turned over - a new bunch of people so at least the Poutine nickname has died. They seem to be mostly at the end of their travels, so we all got together last night and they shared some absolute HORROR south america stories. The girl who got robbed between the airport and the hostel, the airport bus that got held up and emptied, one woman's atm card had been stolen and accounts emptied (even without the pin! something about the mafia). And of course the guy who got kidnapped in Peru.Since I'm flying out of Lima, Peru, I figure I should get a hold of which city that happened in and check it out. (JUST KIDDING MOM!!Of course I'm being totally safe!!!)
Bye!
eta: success! I'm at a coffee shop, ordered a 'cappucino' and guess what just arrived? The mythical latte!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Not an art post. Instead of wandering aimlessly aroud art galleries, persuing further enlightment - today was spent locked in an epic struggle with the Argentinian banking system. Sisyphus and his rock would have had an exasperating day.
Problem: My debit cards work here, but due to criminally high withdrawal fees ($5) and inconvienent max withdrawal limits (Approx $100), there is basically a 5% tax on all money taken out of bank machine. This is both financially and mentally irritating.
But that's why I brought two (non-expired) credit cards on my trip. Granted I don't have pins for them, but as the guidebooks say 'just go into the branch'.
So today, with some larger expensese on the horizon (16 hour bus ride to Mendoza) I tried to do a cash advance on my credit card.
Good lord, I do not know how anyone can have a job in this country AND visit a bank. Rock concert lines at every teller. Some banks have the 'take a number' system. You can pick between 6 different categories of services and get the related number - a little electric sign displays the number and the teller servicing it. I picked J - category which seemed the most popular, then hedged my bets with two other categories - none of which I knew what they meant. I figured I'd just see which number came up first and talk to a person.
My J number was 1049. The current number being serviced? 803.
I observed for 45 minutes, and watched the J numbers creep up from 803 to 812. The other categories went up by less. Doing some quick math, 246 x 5mins / 60 mins. I was going to be waiting for a HELL OF A LONG TIME. Do people pick up a number and then come back in twenty hours? Like some inefficient appointment system?
There were other lines that didn't require numbers. For instance there was one line for people to hand over green marked paper to and get cash back. There was another line for people to hand over cash and get back a bag of coins back (hand over cash, *plonk* plastic bag of coins back). No signs anywhere as to why one line and not another. There was a line for pregnant women and women with small children.
After waiting in one of these smaller lines (I gave up on the numbers), I finally get a real person to ask my question too. They say 'we do not do cash advances.'
Me: Pardon?
Them: No - cash machine only.
Me: I don't have a pin.
Them: Cash machine only.
Me: Well where can I do a cash advance? Another line? Another bank?
Them: No. we do not do them.
Which, come'on. This is a BANK. You can't charge a credit card???? Rural banks in china can charge credit cards. The stores surrounding you can all charge credit cards - and yet an actual bank? cannot.
Them: This is Argentina. You are in Argentina. The banks in Argentina cannot
Me: Only your bank machines can?
Them: Yes. Correct.
Basically I don't believe them, but my belief or lack there of is of zero importance to them. They are not going to help me. Off to try bank #2. Wait in lines. Wait. Wait.
Them: machine only
Me: Any other bank?
Them: Maybe Banco National.
Great. Off to the nearest Banco National Branch. This branch has an information desk! Excellent. Only have to wait for ten minutes for this to be free. Ask my question.
Then: Yes we do them.
Me: Great!
Them: But not here. This branch downtown does it. Main branch.
I get them to write the address out for me [ ' 343 Bartolome Mitre'], crack out my map, proceed to walk for 90 minutes into the downtown core. Banks EVERYWHERE - water water but not a drop to drink - Find the main downtown branch (which is smaller than the previous one I was in but is on Bartolome street and has 343 in front of it), enter it with a fair amount of confidence. Wait 25 mins in a randomly selected line. Hopefully produce my credit card and my passport. "viola!"
Them: Ah yes. Use Machine.
Me: No pin.
Them: Well - we do it, but not here.
I pull out my scrap of paper with the address on it. ' 343 Bartolome Mitre'.
"Is this not here?"
Them: No.
They hand me a new scrap of paper with 'Bank of Plaza de Mayo 343 Bartolome Mitre Street'
Maybe there is an avenue and a street and I'm on the wrong one. Who knows? She tells me I'm really close.
I walk up to Plaza de Mayo, there are banks there, but none called 'Plazo de Mayo' So instead I walk in to the biggest bank I can find in the Plazo de Mayo. AND THERE ARE LINE UPS OUT THE DOOR.
I lose it at this point. I am not waiting in another line. I will western union my money to me before waiting in another line, I will stand in front of a cash machine and do ten individual transactions before waiting in another line. I approach a security guard (no line!) expecting to be ignored/dismissed.
From now on in, I'm only asking security guards. This guard pulled out his glasses, examined my peice of paper, took me by the arm, lead me out on to the street, and escourted me to 343 Bartolome Mitre Street. Which was very helpful, except it was the bank I had just come from.
Much head shaking and arm gesturing ensues. More security guards are called down. One speaks english. This security guard examines my peice of paper, takes me to another bank, tells me to sit in a seat while he gets to the 'bottom of this'. Fifteen minutes later he tells me : yes. It's settled. This is the right place.This bank will do it. Just wait here and he will help you.
FANTASTIC! I thank him excessively. He returns to his post in the two-banks ago bank.
Wait 15 minutes. Taking hope in all the prominient mastercard and visa signage everywhere. I wait, I get budded by a pregnant women, I wait some more. Finally my turn.
Him: Machines only.
me: WHAT?
Him: machines only . we do not do this for 2 years now.
Me: But - but
Him: machines only. Or Bank Piano. But they are the only one.
Me: just ... just ....well - can you write it out?
He writes it out. 'San martin 345' OFF I GO AGAIN. Its only three blocks, find Banco Piano. Wait another 45 minutes but DO INDEED GET MY BLOODY CASH ADVANCE.
Now I'm exhausted and need to recover.
On a somewhat arty note - I did find this neat painting of the argentinian banking system.
Look at the use of light!
;)
Problem: My debit cards work here, but due to criminally high withdrawal fees ($5) and inconvienent max withdrawal limits (Approx $100), there is basically a 5% tax on all money taken out of bank machine. This is both financially and mentally irritating.
But that's why I brought two (non-expired) credit cards on my trip. Granted I don't have pins for them, but as the guidebooks say 'just go into the branch'.
So today, with some larger expensese on the horizon (16 hour bus ride to Mendoza) I tried to do a cash advance on my credit card.
Good lord, I do not know how anyone can have a job in this country AND visit a bank. Rock concert lines at every teller. Some banks have the 'take a number' system. You can pick between 6 different categories of services and get the related number - a little electric sign displays the number and the teller servicing it. I picked J - category which seemed the most popular, then hedged my bets with two other categories - none of which I knew what they meant. I figured I'd just see which number came up first and talk to a person.
My J number was 1049. The current number being serviced? 803.
I observed for 45 minutes, and watched the J numbers creep up from 803 to 812. The other categories went up by less. Doing some quick math, 246 x 5mins / 60 mins. I was going to be waiting for a HELL OF A LONG TIME. Do people pick up a number and then come back in twenty hours? Like some inefficient appointment system?
There were other lines that didn't require numbers. For instance there was one line for people to hand over green marked paper to and get cash back. There was another line for people to hand over cash and get back a bag of coins back (hand over cash, *plonk* plastic bag of coins back). No signs anywhere as to why one line and not another. There was a line for pregnant women and women with small children.
After waiting in one of these smaller lines (I gave up on the numbers), I finally get a real person to ask my question too. They say 'we do not do cash advances.'
Me: Pardon?
Them: No - cash machine only.
Me: I don't have a pin.
Them: Cash machine only.
Me: Well where can I do a cash advance? Another line? Another bank?
Them: No. we do not do them.
Which, come'on. This is a BANK. You can't charge a credit card???? Rural banks in china can charge credit cards. The stores surrounding you can all charge credit cards - and yet an actual bank? cannot.
Them: This is Argentina. You are in Argentina. The banks in Argentina cannot
Me: Only your bank machines can?
Them: Yes. Correct.
Basically I don't believe them, but my belief or lack there of is of zero importance to them. They are not going to help me. Off to try bank #2. Wait in lines. Wait. Wait.
Them: machine only
Me: Any other bank?
Them: Maybe Banco National.
Great. Off to the nearest Banco National Branch. This branch has an information desk! Excellent. Only have to wait for ten minutes for this to be free. Ask my question.
Then: Yes we do them.
Me: Great!
Them: But not here. This branch downtown does it. Main branch.
I get them to write the address out for me [ ' 343 Bartolome Mitre'], crack out my map, proceed to walk for 90 minutes into the downtown core. Banks EVERYWHERE - water water but not a drop to drink - Find the main downtown branch (which is smaller than the previous one I was in but is on Bartolome street and has 343 in front of it), enter it with a fair amount of confidence. Wait 25 mins in a randomly selected line. Hopefully produce my credit card and my passport. "viola!"
Them: Ah yes. Use Machine.
Me: No pin.
Them: Well - we do it, but not here.
I pull out my scrap of paper with the address on it. ' 343 Bartolome Mitre'.
"Is this not here?"
Them: No.
They hand me a new scrap of paper with 'Bank of Plaza de Mayo 343 Bartolome Mitre Street'
Maybe there is an avenue and a street and I'm on the wrong one. Who knows? She tells me I'm really close.
I walk up to Plaza de Mayo, there are banks there, but none called 'Plazo de Mayo' So instead I walk in to the biggest bank I can find in the Plazo de Mayo. AND THERE ARE LINE UPS OUT THE DOOR.
I lose it at this point. I am not waiting in another line. I will western union my money to me before waiting in another line, I will stand in front of a cash machine and do ten individual transactions before waiting in another line. I approach a security guard (no line!) expecting to be ignored/dismissed.
From now on in, I'm only asking security guards. This guard pulled out his glasses, examined my peice of paper, took me by the arm, lead me out on to the street, and escourted me to 343 Bartolome Mitre Street. Which was very helpful, except it was the bank I had just come from.
Much head shaking and arm gesturing ensues. More security guards are called down. One speaks english. This security guard examines my peice of paper, takes me to another bank, tells me to sit in a seat while he gets to the 'bottom of this'. Fifteen minutes later he tells me : yes. It's settled. This is the right place.This bank will do it. Just wait here and he will help you.
FANTASTIC! I thank him excessively. He returns to his post in the two-banks ago bank.
Wait 15 minutes. Taking hope in all the prominient mastercard and visa signage everywhere. I wait, I get budded by a pregnant women, I wait some more. Finally my turn.
Him: Machines only.
me: WHAT?
Him: machines only . we do not do this for 2 years now.
Me: But - but
Him: machines only. Or Bank Piano. But they are the only one.
Me: just ... just ....well - can you write it out?
He writes it out. 'San martin 345' OFF I GO AGAIN. Its only three blocks, find Banco Piano. Wait another 45 minutes but DO INDEED GET MY BLOODY CASH ADVANCE.
Now I'm exhausted and need to recover.
On a somewhat arty note - I did find this neat painting of the argentinian banking system.
Look at the use of light!
;)
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes
So both yesterday and today, I spent a few hours at the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes.
Warning that the rest of this post will not be interesting to someone not interested in art. And even then its probably going to be rough trip.
My personal theme was light. For whatever reason I walked into that museum, looked at two peices of work, and was like ' wait a minute - it's all about light! I get it!' That became my focus - every painting/image was evaluated in terms of light. How light is used to give shape, to set mood, to focus.
My favourite van gogh there was Moulin de la Galette. This picture of it sucks - but in the museum - the blue sky practically hums with energy and lightness, giving it this wonderful whimisical, airy feeling. I also really like the composition, with the stairs almost being the third wind vane.
I also spent some time looking at Monet's Le berge de La Seine 's - and his approach to light here. Monet is generally seen as being *the impressionist* of the impressionist (well, at least by his fans) influencing the others more than he was influenced by them. But his treatment of light here is a scattering of it. Its bouncing and reflecting off everything - leaves, grass, water, clouds - whereas I like it when the light serves to focus and highlight, creating 'stronger values' in my painting.
Although I have to say, there are some Monet paintings where the light seems to add an entirely different dimension to the painting. Like in this - one of his Japanese Gardens - where - it somehow seems like the painting is breathing.
I mean - what can you say about that???? Magical? Possessed? Its vibrating with energy.
Rodin
The museum had a nice selection of Rodins, including
A full size of the kiss. I thought it was marble, but the website says terracotta. Don't ask me how I can confuse those two.
Rodin, who believed ""Nothing, really, is more moving than the maddened beast, dying from unfulfilled desire and asking in vain for grace to quell its passion."
The dynamic physicality of his sculptures - how they never seem at rest. Speaking of The Thinker, "What makes my Thinker think is that he thinks not only with his brain, with his knitted brow, his distended nostrils and compressed lips, but with every muscle of his arms, back, and legs, with his clenched fist and gripping toes." Like the early everest summiter who crashed his plane as high as he could and then started to climb - Rodin's figures are committed.
Degas
Degas was also fairly well represented
and even had this sketch that I've spent hours struggling with to copy - the woman's face. Is so tricky here. Degas is celebrated for many things - his ability to capture/represent movement, I love his use of colour and line, his compositions - but something that I find wonderous is his ability to sketch in the face with the minutest level of detail, in really challenging perspectives, and just utterly nail it. It's really annoying. I mean - an arm, a leg, to greater or lesser extents they are cylinders - basic shapes - that can be rotated predictably and rather easily by the mind. But the human face? Ohmygod. There are just many angles, planes, subtle shifts. Boggles the mind how he could catch it with a squiggle and a bit of shading.
This is also interesting cause you can see his mistake. The upper arm wasn't connecting to the torso properly. He just kept on going.
And the use of light! To define the shapes - from the face down to the upper torso - there isn't a single defining 'cartoon' like line. The shape is completely conveyed through shading.
I really like Degas' work. Unfortunately he was an anti-semite, and a unhappy loner.
Renoir said of him: "What a creature he was, that Degas! All his friends had to leave him; I was one of the last to go, but even I couldn't stay till the end." Never married and spent the last years of his life, nearly blind, restlessly wandering the streets of Paris.
Gratuitous Degas
Cezanne
I took a little sketch book and pencil with me, and when I do that I find it really helpful to sketch other sketches (if they are available). As a learning tool, you can see the barebones that the artist laid down. What they were thinking, even their mistakes, where they made adjustments - stuff that's hidden by days, weeks and layers in the final paintings. Here is a little sketch by Cezanne, observing his son drawing. A generational self-portrait?
But what about all the south american art??
Luckily I have tomorrow!
Warning that the rest of this post will not be interesting to someone not interested in art. And even then its probably going to be rough trip.
My personal theme was light. For whatever reason I walked into that museum, looked at two peices of work, and was like ' wait a minute - it's all about light! I get it!' That became my focus - every painting/image was evaluated in terms of light. How light is used to give shape, to set mood, to focus.
My favourite van gogh there was Moulin de la Galette. This picture of it sucks - but in the museum - the blue sky practically hums with energy and lightness, giving it this wonderful whimisical, airy feeling. I also really like the composition, with the stairs almost being the third wind vane.
I also spent some time looking at Monet's Le berge de La Seine 's - and his approach to light here. Monet is generally seen as being *the impressionist* of the impressionist (well, at least by his fans) influencing the others more than he was influenced by them. But his treatment of light here is a scattering of it. Its bouncing and reflecting off everything - leaves, grass, water, clouds - whereas I like it when the light serves to focus and highlight, creating 'stronger values' in my painting.
Although I have to say, there are some Monet paintings where the light seems to add an entirely different dimension to the painting. Like in this - one of his Japanese Gardens - where - it somehow seems like the painting is breathing.
I mean - what can you say about that???? Magical? Possessed? Its vibrating with energy.Rodin
The museum had a nice selection of Rodins, including
A full size of the kiss. I thought it was marble, but the website says terracotta. Don't ask me how I can confuse those two.
Rodin, who believed ""Nothing, really, is more moving than the maddened beast, dying from unfulfilled desire and asking in vain for grace to quell its passion."
The dynamic physicality of his sculptures - how they never seem at rest. Speaking of The Thinker, "What makes my Thinker think is that he thinks not only with his brain, with his knitted brow, his distended nostrils and compressed lips, but with every muscle of his arms, back, and legs, with his clenched fist and gripping toes." Like the early everest summiter who crashed his plane as high as he could and then started to climb - Rodin's figures are committed.
Degas
Degas was also fairly well represented
and even had this sketch that I've spent hours struggling with to copy - the woman's face. Is so tricky here. Degas is celebrated for many things - his ability to capture/represent movement, I love his use of colour and line, his compositions - but something that I find wonderous is his ability to sketch in the face with the minutest level of detail, in really challenging perspectives, and just utterly nail it. It's really annoying. I mean - an arm, a leg, to greater or lesser extents they are cylinders - basic shapes - that can be rotated predictably and rather easily by the mind. But the human face? Ohmygod. There are just many angles, planes, subtle shifts. Boggles the mind how he could catch it with a squiggle and a bit of shading.
This is also interesting cause you can see his mistake. The upper arm wasn't connecting to the torso properly. He just kept on going.
And the use of light! To define the shapes - from the face down to the upper torso - there isn't a single defining 'cartoon' like line. The shape is completely conveyed through shading.
I really like Degas' work. Unfortunately he was an anti-semite, and a unhappy loner.
Renoir said of him: "What a creature he was, that Degas! All his friends had to leave him; I was one of the last to go, but even I couldn't stay till the end." Never married and spent the last years of his life, nearly blind, restlessly wandering the streets of Paris.
Gratuitous Degas
Cezanne
I took a little sketch book and pencil with me, and when I do that I find it really helpful to sketch other sketches (if they are available). As a learning tool, you can see the barebones that the artist laid down. What they were thinking, even their mistakes, where they made adjustments - stuff that's hidden by days, weeks and layers in the final paintings. Here is a little sketch by Cezanne, observing his son drawing. A generational self-portrait?
But what about all the south american art??
Luckily I have tomorrow!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Today I was either the subject of an elaborate scam, or the victim of an unfortunate incident, who was then kindly helped by strangers. I just can't decide.
The scene:
Pouring rain out, around midday, I'm walking down deserted blvds, heading for the Museum of Beaux Arts. Stop at a corner. Two people approach me. Man, Woman - ask me 'Hora?'
I respond by pointing at my watch, indicating both that its 12:15 and that I'm a tourist, albeit it not one with an expensive watch. I wait, they wait. Light starts to flash, I realize that I've misunderstood the traffic lights *again* am about to miss my walk signal. I rush to catch the last of the light as I cross the street and head into a (wide open) park. They follow.
At this point, the three of us are pretty much the only people walking through this park - I'm a bit suspecious because of the hora thing - two people, no watch? Seems unlikely - and the way they didn't cross the street until I did. But I'm not overly concerned. I'm not exactly in a tourist hotspot, and the weather was so bad, it would be hard to beleive they were targeting the area. It seems more likely that they are tourists as well. Plus they were pretty well put together for what was about to happen next.
Namely that I realize that somehow, someway, I've been mi mierda by a bird. And not just a little mierda. There is mierda on my jacket, on my backpack, on my *legs* and in my *hair*. I've beeen mierda carpet-bombed.
How could I have not noticed this when it happened? I don't know - but it was pouring rain out, so possible.
Enter my two possible thiefs/friends. Who exclaim and rush up to me, offering napkins and aqua. So I'm trying to mentally calculate the probabilty of these people having trained a bird to mierda on tourists, and weighing it against accepting their help to get this crap off of me as soon as possible. They are pulling on my jacket and my bag, which there is nothing in my jacket pockets, so I give them that to wipe down, while I hang onto my bag (camera). My wallet, which I wear across my chest, was under my jacket but is now in the open, and I'm trying to keep an eye on that and my bag as these two people find more and more mierda on me and my stuff. For about three minutes they help me clean up my jacket, bag, pants, hair, sometimes in front of me, sometimes behind me, until I finally am like 'gracias, gracias es bueno'. I say it a couple of times, and they eventually leave - walking back they way they came (odd) but handing me the rest of the napkins (nice).
I take a few minutes and make sure nothing is missing. Now - nothing is missing, but zippers were open. I can't swear they were all closed before, but its likely they were. A backpack zipper (one of six zippers- so tough odds for them) was open, and a zipper on my wallet was open (my wallet is a mess that I can barely find anything in, so again not easy to get stuff out of without taking the whole thing.
I honestly can not decide. Training a bird just seems so bizarre and resource intensive, unless *they* somehow sprayed me with it (and who knows what exactly it was), or boby trapped a tree in the park - but I don't know, none of those seems all that likely to be worth the effort.
Its the mystery of the day for me.
[had a great time at the art musuem - post for another time!]
ETA: Update! It is a scam! Google-able, no less.
At least now I feel better about NOT going back to the hostel for a shower before continuing on my way to the museum.
The scene:
Pouring rain out, around midday, I'm walking down deserted blvds, heading for the Museum of Beaux Arts. Stop at a corner. Two people approach me. Man, Woman - ask me 'Hora?'
I respond by pointing at my watch, indicating both that its 12:15 and that I'm a tourist, albeit it not one with an expensive watch. I wait, they wait. Light starts to flash, I realize that I've misunderstood the traffic lights *again* am about to miss my walk signal. I rush to catch the last of the light as I cross the street and head into a (wide open) park. They follow.
At this point, the three of us are pretty much the only people walking through this park - I'm a bit suspecious because of the hora thing - two people, no watch? Seems unlikely - and the way they didn't cross the street until I did. But I'm not overly concerned. I'm not exactly in a tourist hotspot, and the weather was so bad, it would be hard to beleive they were targeting the area. It seems more likely that they are tourists as well. Plus they were pretty well put together for what was about to happen next.
Namely that I realize that somehow, someway, I've been mi mierda by a bird. And not just a little mierda. There is mierda on my jacket, on my backpack, on my *legs* and in my *hair*. I've beeen mierda carpet-bombed.
How could I have not noticed this when it happened? I don't know - but it was pouring rain out, so possible.
Enter my two possible thiefs/friends. Who exclaim and rush up to me, offering napkins and aqua. So I'm trying to mentally calculate the probabilty of these people having trained a bird to mierda on tourists, and weighing it against accepting their help to get this crap off of me as soon as possible. They are pulling on my jacket and my bag, which there is nothing in my jacket pockets, so I give them that to wipe down, while I hang onto my bag (camera). My wallet, which I wear across my chest, was under my jacket but is now in the open, and I'm trying to keep an eye on that and my bag as these two people find more and more mierda on me and my stuff. For about three minutes they help me clean up my jacket, bag, pants, hair, sometimes in front of me, sometimes behind me, until I finally am like 'gracias, gracias es bueno'. I say it a couple of times, and they eventually leave - walking back they way they came (odd) but handing me the rest of the napkins (nice).
I take a few minutes and make sure nothing is missing. Now - nothing is missing, but zippers were open. I can't swear they were all closed before, but its likely they were. A backpack zipper (one of six zippers- so tough odds for them) was open, and a zipper on my wallet was open (my wallet is a mess that I can barely find anything in, so again not easy to get stuff out of without taking the whole thing.
I honestly can not decide. Training a bird just seems so bizarre and resource intensive, unless *they* somehow sprayed me with it (and who knows what exactly it was), or boby trapped a tree in the park - but I don't know, none of those seems all that likely to be worth the effort.
Its the mystery of the day for me.
[had a great time at the art musuem - post for another time!]
ETA: Update! It is a scam! Google-able, no less.
At least now I feel better about NOT going back to the hostel for a shower before continuing on my way to the museum.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
GOAAAAL!
I scored a goal today. In polo. When I - from a walking horse, swung a mallet, connected with an IMPOSSIBLY small ball, and knocked it 10 meters.
It wobbled, it teetored, it rambled, but in the end it made it through the goal posts.
My instructor Fernando let out a shout of incredibility. This moment, three hours in the making, crafted by his patience to explain in spanish, english and french, in as many different ways as possible how to sit on a horse, swing a mallet, hit a ball while I responded by swinging at the air, knocking clods of dirt, hitting him, hitting myself, and hitting poor Zeta the pony (a steadfast soul, if understandably unenthusiastic about me), while dropping reins, crops, and mallets.
I am amazed that anyone can gallop around and hit that only-slightly-larger-than a ping-pong-ball at ALL much less with reliability and accuracy. BUT I had proof that it was possible as out with me on the field was a team practising for a match this weekend.
So my pony and I would be on our third attempt to hit a ball (walk, swing, miss, circle back, repeat), when I'd hear this crack, see the white flash of a ball flying past our heads. Next would be the pounding of eight hooves, then suddenly we'd be in the midst of two over-heated ponies and their .... errr.. rather sexily swarthy riders careening about. A flurry of mallets, spanish oaths, straining limbs, tossed heads, precariously fought balance points, and CRACK the ball would be off down the field again, the ponies spun around and chasing it down.
call me a fan!
Video of other people playing polo
It wobbled, it teetored, it rambled, but in the end it made it through the goal posts.
My instructor Fernando let out a shout of incredibility. This moment, three hours in the making, crafted by his patience to explain in spanish, english and french, in as many different ways as possible how to sit on a horse, swing a mallet, hit a ball while I responded by swinging at the air, knocking clods of dirt, hitting him, hitting myself, and hitting poor Zeta the pony (a steadfast soul, if understandably unenthusiastic about me), while dropping reins, crops, and mallets.
I am amazed that anyone can gallop around and hit that only-slightly-larger-than a ping-pong-ball at ALL much less with reliability and accuracy. BUT I had proof that it was possible as out with me on the field was a team practising for a match this weekend.
So my pony and I would be on our third attempt to hit a ball (walk, swing, miss, circle back, repeat), when I'd hear this crack, see the white flash of a ball flying past our heads. Next would be the pounding of eight hooves, then suddenly we'd be in the midst of two over-heated ponies and their .... errr.. rather sexily swarthy riders careening about. A flurry of mallets, spanish oaths, straining limbs, tossed heads, precariously fought balance points, and CRACK the ball would be off down the field again, the ponies spun around and chasing it down.
call me a fan!
Video of other people playing polo
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
dilemna
I have a dilemna.
For 240 pesos, roughly $80 CDN - I can take a Polo lesson.
It's not really the money that is making me hesitate.
It's the fact that when I get there, and there are real life polo fields and polo horses, facing my one chance to play polo in Argentina, I'll think back to all the horses I've ridden - the ponies that used to run me under branches, or the one that would jump *in* to the In-and-Out but go no further (although i frequently did), or the off-the-track racehorses that would take off on my 13 year old self, or my first horse show when the horse stepped on my foot and I cried, and then cried because I was crying AT MY FIRST HORSESHOW (I was eight).
I'll remember all of these incidents as signs of my unique bond with horses.
I will completely ignore the fact that I haven't ridden consistently in something like 15 years, and when asked about my experience will consolidate my hazy horsey memories into a statement like "Oh yes I ride. hmmm? Pretty well. Pretty well, I'd say. Certainly Not Bad."
I know this because approximately 10 years ago I was in Hungary, in not dissimilar circumstances and THAT WAS EXACTLY WHAT I SAID. A short while later this horse is making its bid for freedom while I, stirrups lost, reins and mane gripped together, pray that there are no groundhogs in Hungary as we dash across the great plains.
Of course, none of this would really be a problem EXCEPT I've got four months of skiing coming up. And the only thing worse than injuring yourself on the first day of skiing is injuring yourself two weeks before the first day.
But.... com'on. It's Argentina!!! It's POLO. NO ONE is that strong.
For 240 pesos, roughly $80 CDN - I can take a Polo lesson.
It's not really the money that is making me hesitate.
It's the fact that when I get there, and there are real life polo fields and polo horses, facing my one chance to play polo in Argentina, I'll think back to all the horses I've ridden - the ponies that used to run me under branches, or the one that would jump *in* to the In-and-Out but go no further (although i frequently did), or the off-the-track racehorses that would take off on my 13 year old self, or my first horse show when the horse stepped on my foot and I cried, and then cried because I was crying AT MY FIRST HORSESHOW (I was eight).
I'll remember all of these incidents as signs of my unique bond with horses.
I will completely ignore the fact that I haven't ridden consistently in something like 15 years, and when asked about my experience will consolidate my hazy horsey memories into a statement like "Oh yes I ride. hmmm? Pretty well. Pretty well, I'd say. Certainly Not Bad."
I know this because approximately 10 years ago I was in Hungary, in not dissimilar circumstances and THAT WAS EXACTLY WHAT I SAID. A short while later this horse is making its bid for freedom while I, stirrups lost, reins and mane gripped together, pray that there are no groundhogs in Hungary as we dash across the great plains.
Of course, none of this would really be a problem EXCEPT I've got four months of skiing coming up. And the only thing worse than injuring yourself on the first day of skiing is injuring yourself two weeks before the first day.
But.... com'on. It's Argentina!!! It's POLO. NO ONE is that strong.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
random
This is a random post because random is all I got.
- Fake 100 peso bills. David (from France) picked up a fake 100 p bill in the first hour he was in Buenos Aires. Getting out of a taxi, he handed the driver a 100 p bill. The driver handed it back saying 'too big'. David paid the fare with smaller bills. Later he finds out that between taking it and handing it back, the taxi driver switched the 100 p bill with a fake one.
- If you want to bond with your fellow travellors - just mention India. Anyone who has been there can not wait to share their unique India horror stories. Language barriers crumble under the overwhelming desire to talk to someone who has actually been there and who understands! I went sightseeing with David (France) and Dan (Calgary). All three of us had been to India. We spent 90 mins in the Plaza de Mayo talking about India. My best India tip was always: Never acccept help from someone who offers, always find someone who isn't offering and ask. David's was: Only ask Sikhs for help.
David: "In India, I only ask Sikhs. Since every Sikh man's name ends in Singh - i just look for a man in a turban and then I say: 'Excuse me very much, Mr. Singh, but could you please help me.' Never had any problems. Very good people, the Sikhs. The taxi driver who gave me the fake bill? Not a sikh."
Dan (Calgary's) peice of India travel advice was: "Tell the taxi driver that you will go to any store, if he will then take you to where you want to go. They get paid if you walk into a store regardless if you buy something or not. It just saves all the hassel of them trying to trick and argue you into going to the store. You can get free rides if you visit enough stores."
Then there are all the medical horror stories - like Dan's friend who, despite having her typhoid vaccinations, still came down with this extremely rare form of typhoid. After trying Indian hospitals where they kept on telling her it was food-related, she got on the phone with her parents, told them to book her a ticket home, and managed to get onto the plane before passing out. It took US doctors another month before they were able to diagnose what she had. Like some horrible episode of House.
Botanical Gardens. Ever since my short but enthusiastic tenure on the board of Columbia Valley Botanical Gardens and Centre for Sustainable Living, I've been interested in Botanical Gardens. Walked through Buenos Aires' todays. The most interesting aspect of it is not the flowers/grass/shrubery but the cats! Apparently it doubles as a cat refuge. A charity provides for food and vet care for dozens and dozens of cats. So you are walking as herds of playful fat cats chase birds, or sleep in relaxed heaps of fur on the sun-baked paths. It is overrun by these cats. They are very good with people. I watched one two year old, upon being relased from her stroller, scream gleefully and toddle towards a cat, hands out stretched. The cat didn't move. The kid got to the cat, froze, then after studing the cat for a long minute, reached out with her chubby hand and gave one very long, deliberate, stroke. Then she started grabbing fur, at which point the cat rose, looked at me with askance, and padded away.
My roomates are currently: A brazilian who isn't snobby at all, an Frenchwoman who is awesome (its like – all French women are Juliette Binoche), and a Chilean (who I can't communicate with). The thing that all three have in common? The abliity to pull dresses and high heeled shoes out of backpacks, brush their hair and look ridiculously glamourous. (my long underwear, t-shirt and runners are not cutting it)
My current French roommate, (who has worn three different outfits today alone), was rushing out of the shower, getting dressed – a date with an Argentinean.
“You must try these Argentineans before you leave.” She said. “But they joke.”
“Joke?”
“They say stuff like : I want you to meet my mother. Or I want to marry you. But it’s a joke. They do not want you to meet their mother.”
“Ok.”
“Like, this guy. Normally, after, a French guy, or an English guy, they would say ‘I had a great time. I really like you, I am happy around you. This guy he says: You are the only person I’ve felt sexually connected to. Who says that? So weird. But I can not help it. It’s true, I am very sexually attracted to him, even though I know he jokes, you still want to believe it right?” She points to her eyes, “he has, I do not know the word, but one eye does not match when he looks.”
“He has a lazy eye?”
“Yes. I am so attracted to that. Now. My hair is wet. What to do? I am very late.”
She shrugs. “He will wait.”
LOVE HER!
eta: almost forgot the most important thing - 16 cms of snow expected in Las Lenas over the next six days!
- Fake 100 peso bills. David (from France) picked up a fake 100 p bill in the first hour he was in Buenos Aires. Getting out of a taxi, he handed the driver a 100 p bill. The driver handed it back saying 'too big'. David paid the fare with smaller bills. Later he finds out that between taking it and handing it back, the taxi driver switched the 100 p bill with a fake one.
- If you want to bond with your fellow travellors - just mention India. Anyone who has been there can not wait to share their unique India horror stories. Language barriers crumble under the overwhelming desire to talk to someone who has actually been there and who understands! I went sightseeing with David (France) and Dan (Calgary). All three of us had been to India. We spent 90 mins in the Plaza de Mayo talking about India. My best India tip was always: Never acccept help from someone who offers, always find someone who isn't offering and ask. David's was: Only ask Sikhs for help.
David: "In India, I only ask Sikhs. Since every Sikh man's name ends in Singh - i just look for a man in a turban and then I say: 'Excuse me very much, Mr. Singh, but could you please help me.' Never had any problems. Very good people, the Sikhs. The taxi driver who gave me the fake bill? Not a sikh."
Dan (Calgary's) peice of India travel advice was: "Tell the taxi driver that you will go to any store, if he will then take you to where you want to go. They get paid if you walk into a store regardless if you buy something or not. It just saves all the hassel of them trying to trick and argue you into going to the store. You can get free rides if you visit enough stores."
Then there are all the medical horror stories - like Dan's friend who, despite having her typhoid vaccinations, still came down with this extremely rare form of typhoid. After trying Indian hospitals where they kept on telling her it was food-related, she got on the phone with her parents, told them to book her a ticket home, and managed to get onto the plane before passing out. It took US doctors another month before they were able to diagnose what she had. Like some horrible episode of House.
Botanical Gardens. Ever since my short but enthusiastic tenure on the board of Columbia Valley Botanical Gardens and Centre for Sustainable Living, I've been interested in Botanical Gardens. Walked through Buenos Aires' todays. The most interesting aspect of it is not the flowers/grass/shrubery but the cats! Apparently it doubles as a cat refuge. A charity provides for food and vet care for dozens and dozens of cats. So you are walking as herds of playful fat cats chase birds, or sleep in relaxed heaps of fur on the sun-baked paths. It is overrun by these cats. They are very good with people. I watched one two year old, upon being relased from her stroller, scream gleefully and toddle towards a cat, hands out stretched. The cat didn't move. The kid got to the cat, froze, then after studing the cat for a long minute, reached out with her chubby hand and gave one very long, deliberate, stroke. Then she started grabbing fur, at which point the cat rose, looked at me with askance, and padded away.
My roomates are currently: A brazilian who isn't snobby at all, an Frenchwoman who is awesome (its like – all French women are Juliette Binoche), and a Chilean (who I can't communicate with). The thing that all three have in common? The abliity to pull dresses and high heeled shoes out of backpacks, brush their hair and look ridiculously glamourous. (my long underwear, t-shirt and runners are not cutting it)
My current French roommate, (who has worn three different outfits today alone), was rushing out of the shower, getting dressed – a date with an Argentinean.
“You must try these Argentineans before you leave.” She said. “But they joke.”
“Joke?”
“They say stuff like : I want you to meet my mother. Or I want to marry you. But it’s a joke. They do not want you to meet their mother.”
“Ok.”
“Like, this guy. Normally, after, a French guy, or an English guy, they would say ‘I had a great time. I really like you, I am happy around you. This guy he says: You are the only person I’ve felt sexually connected to. Who says that? So weird. But I can not help it. It’s true, I am very sexually attracted to him, even though I know he jokes, you still want to believe it right?” She points to her eyes, “he has, I do not know the word, but one eye does not match when he looks.”
“He has a lazy eye?”
“Yes. I am so attracted to that. Now. My hair is wet. What to do? I am very late.”
She shrugs. “He will wait.”
LOVE HER!
eta: almost forgot the most important thing - 16 cms of snow expected in Las Lenas over the next six days!
Friday, May 22, 2009
and we're back
The blog continues. I was thinking about starting another blog focused on skiing for my current trip down to las lenas, Argentina. But couldn't think of a good name, ('lost in las lenas' while attractively lllll sounding, seemed unnecessarily pessismistic). Decided instead to revive the old one.
mini-catch up - since finishing my bike trip in seattle. I boxed merle up for fedex-ing (for bikes, use fedex, way cheaper internationally) to Ontario, bussed myself up to Invermere, picked up my car, and drove myself back to Ontario. Spent two and a half months making noises about finding an apartment (hey I looked at TWO) while living in one sister's guest room and on another sister's couch.
Then in November circumstances aligned such that I decided to spend the winter out west skiing. So packed up the car AGAIN and headed out to Revelstoke where I did precisely that and almost nothing else. Sometime around March, feeling like the season was already winding down and not satisfied with that, I googled Skiing, South America and stumbled upon Las Lenas. A resort hopefully more substantial than the information available on it. Booked a ticket. Drove the car back to Toronto. Spent three weeks mostly at my parents (excellent service, four stars). Then two days ago, after making me promise to 'Think About my Future' (by which he did not mean the next four months of skiing) my dad drove me to the airport and I got on a plane.
And so here I am. Buenos Aires. Migrating my way across the country to the Chilian border (where Las Lenas is located) with nothing but my trusty hiking boots, the clothes on my back and -
- Skis -2 (XXLs, Heads)
- Poles - (1 touring poles)
- Avy gear & skins
- helmet
- goggles (2 pairs - cloudy lense, sunny lense)
- Lange boots (hang in there please!!!)
- Ski Jacket and Ski Pants
- Mitts and liners
- One fleece
- One long sleeve slightly oderous bike jersey
- 3 sets of long underwear
- 3 t-shirts
- 1 pair of jeans
- 1 pair of capris
- 1 pair of boxers
- 1 little black dress (I'm worried about spontaneous charity events!)
- 1 pajama bottom
- 3 pairs of ski socks
- 3 pairs of regular socks
- all half decent underwear
- sunglasses/sunscreen/glasses/contacts
- my/heather's white and pink knitted hat
- my green knitted hat
- my blue ski hat
- my canada baseball cap
- neck warmer
- laptop
- video camera
- sleeping bag
- towel
- bathing suit
- my mug
- misc toiletries
- one hacky sac
- Two books - Gulliver's Travels and The Three Pillars of Zen
- my skiing mojo & my beginner spanish
so to answer the burning question:
No, I did not bring the bike. :(
Here is what I was told today about Las Lenas - from Pablo - who was seated one row a head of me in the airplane yesterday, and who I then bumped into at Plaza Italia today ('small 12.5 million city')
"Las Lenas!" he said. "You do not want to go there. Go to Bariloche. Las Lenas is nothing but snobby brazilians and europeons jetting. Rich people on vacation. The people will bore you. Go to Bariloche it has art, culture - there is ok skiing there and it is Patagonia. Patagonia!! Las Lenas has nothing."
Pablo's vote of confidence in my plans aside, I still figure - he's not a skier, so doesn't really get it, and two, generally, the more remote, unlikely, hard to get to, a place is, the better it is! At least that's my Philosophy of Travelling, and it hasn't failed me yet.... more or less. Balance of probability at least!
Today I wandered through some parks. I am rusty in my traveling. I was aiming for the Argentinian Polo fields, and instead ended up at the Center for Islam. Which in my defence, has some beautifully manicured grounds.
Tomorrow - Botanical Gardens and Japanese Gardens, and if all else fails - my safety tourist destination is Malba - Musuem of Art Latin-American Buenos Aires.
So uh. To the old readers. Welcome back. To those who are linking here to learn the ins and out of solo cycling touring in America, just go to the beginning of this blog and start reading.
Adios for now (or - Go! GO AWAY ! as the Argentinian custom agent shouted at me.)
[I mistook his wave for a friendly greeting, so naturally waved back. He kept on waving. I kept on waving too. Turns out his wave was really 'welcome to my country and I have no questions for you']
mini-catch up - since finishing my bike trip in seattle. I boxed merle up for fedex-ing (for bikes, use fedex, way cheaper internationally) to Ontario, bussed myself up to Invermere, picked up my car, and drove myself back to Ontario. Spent two and a half months making noises about finding an apartment (hey I looked at TWO) while living in one sister's guest room and on another sister's couch.
Then in November circumstances aligned such that I decided to spend the winter out west skiing. So packed up the car AGAIN and headed out to Revelstoke where I did precisely that and almost nothing else. Sometime around March, feeling like the season was already winding down and not satisfied with that, I googled Skiing, South America and stumbled upon Las Lenas. A resort hopefully more substantial than the information available on it. Booked a ticket. Drove the car back to Toronto. Spent three weeks mostly at my parents (excellent service, four stars). Then two days ago, after making me promise to 'Think About my Future' (by which he did not mean the next four months of skiing) my dad drove me to the airport and I got on a plane.
And so here I am. Buenos Aires. Migrating my way across the country to the Chilian border (where Las Lenas is located) with nothing but my trusty hiking boots, the clothes on my back and -
- Skis -2 (XXLs, Heads)
- Poles - (1 touring poles)
- Avy gear & skins
- helmet
- goggles (2 pairs - cloudy lense, sunny lense)
- Lange boots (hang in there please!!!)
- Ski Jacket and Ski Pants
- Mitts and liners
- One fleece
- One long sleeve slightly oderous bike jersey
- 3 sets of long underwear
- 3 t-shirts
- 1 pair of jeans
- 1 pair of capris
- 1 pair of boxers
- 1 little black dress (I'm worried about spontaneous charity events!)
- 1 pajama bottom
- 3 pairs of ski socks
- 3 pairs of regular socks
- all half decent underwear
- sunglasses/sunscreen/glasses/contacts
- my/heather's white and pink knitted hat
- my green knitted hat
- my blue ski hat
- my canada baseball cap
- neck warmer
- laptop
- video camera
- sleeping bag
- towel
- bathing suit
- my mug
- misc toiletries
- one hacky sac
- Two books - Gulliver's Travels and The Three Pillars of Zen
- my skiing mojo & my beginner spanish
so to answer the burning question:
No, I did not bring the bike. :(
Here is what I was told today about Las Lenas - from Pablo - who was seated one row a head of me in the airplane yesterday, and who I then bumped into at Plaza Italia today ('small 12.5 million city')
"Las Lenas!" he said. "You do not want to go there. Go to Bariloche. Las Lenas is nothing but snobby brazilians and europeons jetting. Rich people on vacation. The people will bore you. Go to Bariloche it has art, culture - there is ok skiing there and it is Patagonia. Patagonia!! Las Lenas has nothing."
Pablo's vote of confidence in my plans aside, I still figure - he's not a skier, so doesn't really get it, and two, generally, the more remote, unlikely, hard to get to, a place is, the better it is! At least that's my Philosophy of Travelling, and it hasn't failed me yet.... more or less. Balance of probability at least!
Today I wandered through some parks. I am rusty in my traveling. I was aiming for the Argentinian Polo fields, and instead ended up at the Center for Islam. Which in my defence, has some beautifully manicured grounds.
Tomorrow - Botanical Gardens and Japanese Gardens, and if all else fails - my safety tourist destination is Malba - Musuem of Art Latin-American Buenos Aires.
So uh. To the old readers. Welcome back. To those who are linking here to learn the ins and out of solo cycling touring in America, just go to the beginning of this blog and start reading.
Adios for now (or - Go! GO AWAY ! as the Argentinian custom agent shouted at me.)
[I mistook his wave for a friendly greeting, so naturally waved back. He kept on waving. I kept on waving too. Turns out his wave was really 'welcome to my country and I have no questions for you']
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