Tuesday, January 27, 2009

hostal hustle

**i'm completely back blogged due to some unforseen.... errr... natural disasters and pequeno pueblos without internet... but here's one for the road...**

8am. I'm sitting in a tiny café in Humahuaca, Argentina. Just one of the many little pueblo towns in northern Argentina that I've been hopping non-stop for the past week. I was awake at 6:08am though. No, wait. Actually, I was awake at 3:17am, 4:24am, and 6:08am-7:48am respectively and for different reasons. The first being the girl at the foot of my bunk bed who decided 3:17am was the perfect time to re-pack her bags, zipping and unzipping every zipper she could find to zip and unzip on every single one of her bags. Each zip was like a violent scratch across the chalkboard of my ears. I passive-aggressively dug for my earplugs with a few looks to kill glances at her. Ok, maybe more aggressive than passive. She zipped on, unaware. The second awakening coming when the guy next to me started coughing, trying to choke up whatever had lodged itself in his lungs. He was failing, miserably. I pulled my sleeping bag over my head and tried to breathe as little as possible, remembering where I put my emergen-c. Note: take immediately after getting up. The third time was the drunken idiot who thought it imperative to flick on the lights to the room to find his upper bunk bed above little miss zipper-head. With eyes blurry from booze, he struggled to climb up, wrestling with the bed, and as soon as half his body was on, he was snoring like a broken trombone before the bed had a chance to stop creaking. Leaving… the lights on! Thanks jackass. I grabbed my sleeping mask and ipod and struggled to not hear his violent attempts to catch the next breath. After an hour and a half, I gave up, grabbed my mac and headed out for some peace. Luckily people don't really stir until well passed 10am, so at the prime hour of 8am, the town was quiet and this little café just opening.

Welcome to… the hostal hustle. (cue song here) do the hostal hustle!

The sleeping situation in hostals suck. There's no way around it. You have no privacy, no space, and no absolute power over the bathroom. If lucky, there might be a private bathroom for each room with 6 beds but only if you're really lucky. More often than not though, it's outside, down the hall or downstairs for the entire hostal to share. Summer camp, anyone?

When I was a kid, I remember hearing stories about how cool summer camp was. It was a very American thing to do… go to camp. You got to sleep in bunk beds, meet other kids from far away schools, hike in groups while singing camp fire songs, get crushes on the dudes and maybe even your first kiss in the bushes. I dreamed of it. I watched tv shows about it. I imagined my name sharpied on the tags of all my t-shirts. The closest I ever came to camp was going to the Poconos with my family. Surely, not the same thing.

But when traveling alone, the easiest way to meet people is to stay at a hostal. I have stayed in 'five star' hostals that came with a pool, hammock, ping pong table and tv room. And, I have stayed in 'minus star' hostals that had styrofoam for a roof, potato sacks for a ceiling, and a storage room/bathroom with no toilet seat on the loo and a shower that barely dripped freezing water out. Score.

Though, the saving grace is, by far, the people I have met. Like a quick high school study, groups and cliques are quickly formed and broken. Couples are joined and shattered. And promises of potential friendships are built and, sometimes, severed. I met this guy who was traveling to the same places I was so we decided to hit the road together, only to find out a couple of days later, that outside of our previous hostal life, we did not click whatsoever. So, we parted ways. It's like 'life' on speed. Things happen quickly, deeply, and honestly. There isn't any time for bullshit on the road. Nobody wants their trip to be overshadowed by negative energy, so you call it as it comes.

On the other hand, the trust that you place in others is unparallel. My sassy French travel buddy, Lulu, and I walked into a packed small empanada restaurant the other day and stood waiting for a table. After a few short minutes a group of guys from buenos aires invited us to sit with them, offered us their empanadas and a glass of their wine. We happily obliged. After about an hour of chatting, we found ourselves in their car heading straight for the implausible crimson colored mountains, singing Spanish songs in a natural amphitheater, and climbing into the 'devil's throat' alcove to sip mate (a local tea they drink in groups and in fervor) while watching the clouds morph formations. Trumpet! Penguin! Sombrero!

I looked up at the sky, sipped, smiled and thought… "Now this, THIS is the perfect summer camp day." Sip, sip, sip….

besos besos besos** y una mas...

Saturday, January 17, 2009

malbec madness

mendoza, argentina.

home of the best malbec grapes that ever dared to drip from an overgrown vine bursting with juicy life, basking in the sun...with the andes painting the skyline ever so gracefully and clouds fluffing their way across them like little bunny rabbits hopping home... it´s warm, breezy... the canopy of trees swish in the wind as you...
ESCAPE DEATH teetering precariously on the side of the crowdedlikethis road on a crickety rental bicycle, choking on the exhaust that the enormous 10-wheeler just extinguished all over you and your pretty wine-tasting sundress that is drenched cause you´ve been working your ass off for the past hour in the unrelenting burning afternoon sun... when did wine-tasting become a life threatening game of chicken with oncoming traffic??!
i am in wine country. and yes, it´s absolutely GORgeous, but let´s just say the constant fear of getting run over or off the bloody road overshadowed the test of ´what do you smell in this varietal... oak? grapes? caramel?...´
"ummm,why does mine smell like weird seafood?"
after 4 incredible days in mendoza, i´m sad to report that i am no better at picking out the ´woody cedar berries with a smidgen of marshmallow´ or the ´buttery pear with a crinkle of vanilla´ in my wine glass. nope, apparantly, my nose doesn´t cut it. (and just a side note... why do they always use these obscure descriptions to 'identify' the damn wine? really? do you really smell the pinch of primrose pepper and drip of darjeeling in there?!? really?) in fact, i failed miserably. and i tried. oh, did i give it the home run try! but to no avail... i did, however, do an outstanding job of getting a wee bit tipsy and jumping off a cliff to perilously paraglide over the entire varietal valley while keeping the malbec safe and swishing in my belly... impressive, no?

i did walk away with this fact... did you know that the reason that the malbec grape grows so well here is because they can control the amount of water the grapes receive during the season?

and yeah, that's about as much info as i retained.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

closet time....

"get out of the closet."

"no."

"we're only going to go out for an hour or so, i promise."

"not on your life."

i stayed in the closet, hiding behind the suits and ties, throwing t-shirts and socks over my head until everyone left. i listened for the snap, crackle, pop of the lock, threw on my cozy pajamas, tucked myself under the covers, exhaled and fell right to sleep. it was probably midnight.

i have never been a vampire. someone who thrives on the night air and moon rings in the sky. i like my days to start early and to end early. it's just the way that i was wired when i came out of the womb. buenos aires is a city jam packed with vampires... aaaaand, i may have been bitten for a bit. thank you, mr. bottom lip.

a normal school night in buenos aires consists of the following; meeting anywhere between 10:30pm and midnight for dinner (yes, DINNER), having a nice leisurly 2 hour dinner, tack on another hour or so for drinks and chatting afterwards, and at the prime time of 2:30-3:30AM, you hit the dance clubs for a good few hours, only to stumble out at 5am, hit another bar, which is of course FULL of people (of course! i mean, who doesn't want a pitcher of beer at 5:30am to really get the day started??), then sip that frothy beer over more chatting and maybe people watching (cause the PDA here is in FULL FORCE) and once that yellow orb starts to peak over the horizon at 7 or 8AM, only then is it time to reach for those cozy p's and rest one's eyes until it starts all over again.

i drank alot of coffee in bueno aires. ALOT.

and in the wee hours of the dark morning, i saw damp guys & dolls fist pump to the "friends" theme... yes, fist pump... to the FRIEND'S theme!! they were impressively serious about 'being there for you when the rain starts to fall...' then in a swipe of their sweaty brow, they were samba shakin' their booties to the cumbia, and when that stopped, they full body rocked out to roxette. they love them some roxette. i don't get it but by the end of the delirious morning evening, i found myself drenched and fist pumping along with the crowd. it was awesome. it was exhausting. it was full of pure, fun life.

now, where's my closet?

Sunday, January 11, 2009

cruising around the end of the world....

ok, i'm back, i'm back I'M BACK!... happy 2009 everyone! from the emails i have thoroughly enjoyed devouring while simultaneously inhaling these scrumptious, leave your fingers slick-greasy, fried empanadas and glass of wine, it looks like 2009 started with a bang for most of you. great to read everyone is taking the new year by patagonian storms... (falling in love (northwest-bound bean?!), getting knocked-up (congrats mattie & dana!), getting engaged (HOORAY C &T) and even hooking up (er... you dirty dogs shall remain unnamed)... it's all so exciting!!) thanks for all the emails, and for those few who thought i had been kidnapped, my apologies for thoroughly immersing myself in my family time on our 2-week cruise down the coast of chile, around cape horn @ the end of the world and up the coast of argentina. too tough to blog when one is watching one's parents, brother and sister-in-law trip over their fancy feet in tango, salsa, and swing dance classes as the ship waddles back and forth like an elephant trotting up a muddy mountain... (it was pretty impressive actually, and absolutely, stupidly adorable. my brother kicked some major tango ass. my mommo, on the other hand, kicked my bubbi's ass. i mean, she actually, physically KICKED him a few times. tango!) more on that later....

ont he cruise... we marveled at the most magical & massive chilean fjords and glaciers that glowed the most beautiful hues of blue, we river-rafted down the rio petrohue with the unbelievable backdrop of volcano osorno peering at us through the ever-swirling clouds, we joined in on a penguin parade, took a train ride at the end of the world and we stuffed our faces. alot. with some of the best fresh lamb, mouth-watering empanadas, creamy-stick-to-the-roof-of-
your-mouth dulce de leche, sizzling plates of parrilla that comes with a mound of bbq meat that includes everything from brain to sweet breads to blood sausage. if it was sizzling on that plate. we ate it. and less we forget the famous argentine steaks... by the time my family crawled their heavy bellies all the way to the airport to head back home, we had all vowed no meat for at least 6 months... my current empanada is carne. and it's awesome. breakin' all the rules already. i love buenos aires.

after 2 weeks of cruise life, i am happy to be surrounded by the vibrant argentine souls as cruise life can start feeling like one is living on some strange alternate universe where life revolves around mealtime. people piling their breakfast buffet plates up up to their eyeballs and spending the remainder of the morning destroying that mountain. (NOT the same as our parrilla plates. not at ALL the same thing.) it's a terrifying sight to see a man sit before three plates of fried eggs, sausage, ham, scrambled eggs, potatoes, waffles, boiled eggs, corned beef hash, roast beef, egg pie.... etc, etc, etc... or eggscetera! oh god, did i actually just say that. the wine is working. moving on...

other time spent on the ship can be passed by going for a dip in the chlorine-thick burn your skin off pool, gambling, drinking, wandering aimlessly, or what my family mostly did... taking dance classes, napping and reading in our little nest of a corner on the ship. for lack of a better metaphor, the dance classes made me feel like i was smack dab in the middle of a dirty dancing moment where mostly older, mainly uncoordinated, but incredibly enthusiastic vacationers were out to tackle the cha cha cha beat in their minds. i didn't dance. i watched with delight. the older couples warming my heart as they tush tush tush their way around the one to three, one two three's of salsa. nothing like seeing a couple attempt to lead and let lead on the dance floor. i thought... someday, some lovely, poor fool will have to learn to lead me out there next to my parents... just like my brother and sister-in-law. good luck, lovely, poor fool.

my main obsession was actually with the dark & dirty underground life that must fester in the deep depths of the cruise ship. where the ship employees are smashed together for 6-8months at a time. i couldn't help but try and envision what kind of stories lurked in those bowels... affairs! lies! sex scandals! alas, i had to leave that up to my wild imagination as the one time i tried to spy on their timesheet billboard, i got hurried along by my mother rather quickly.

mostly, it was time to spend with my family. which was great... and exhausting. no gonna lie... traveling with a 2 and a 1/2 year old is like adding 15 more people to the trip. poor little rahrah munchkin hurled a few times all over my sister as the ship rocked forcibly back and forth. and she may or may not have drank a glass of oj that may or may not have contained something other than oj which may or may not have cause little miss rahrah to give us a glimpse of what she might be if she were a raging partyer at the age of 22.... but this is all just a possibility. merely a possibility.

well ironically, i say this as i take my final sip of my wine and plan to head out on the buenos aires town tonight.... mybe she's more like her auntie than we want to admit.

salud!