So, Size does matter

12/16/15

   
    
    
 
   

  

  

    
   
Sometimes, you realize what you said earlier may come back to haunt you. It could be sometime innocent like: looks like it’s going to be a quiet night! Then of course, the gate of hell opens and you were soon stewing in a sea of weird clients and eccentric personalities (of your fellow colleagues). Or when you once said to your client: I don’t see a problem with the city council, and then the council suddenly grew conscience and decided to use that project as a example for why upgrading the whole city’s storm system is necessary. These are the moments that you make a vow not to make sweeping generalizations again. Of course, I usually forget all these lessons as soon as the lesson is over (that is, after a beer or two). As soon as I typed the blog post yesterday, I knew it will come back to haunt me. 

The plan of the day was simple: take a bicycle, cycle to the temple for sunrise, and take the little circuit tour on bike (bicycle that is). Unfortunately, the party outside went on for a long time, and no one in the form got much sleep. With a long day ahead and one just passed, I gave up on the sunrise idea, and just dozed until 7am. After that, it was a 30 mins ride to Angkor Wat (well, I did have to stop a few times to check directions, since my hostel staffs had no idea how to direct tourists). On the way, I was passed by bus, vans, motorcycles, pretty ladies on scooters who laughed at my little bicycle (or at me?), tuk-Tuks with the tourists enjoying the cool breeze (while I was sweating profusely), and tourist buses that blew out clouds of black smoke that rendered my face (and probably lungs) black. I managed to get to Angkor Wat in about 25 minutes, passing by local hospitals, hawker stands and many locals getting ready for work . I decided to head through the southern gate (the victory gate. The north gate is known as gate of death…so yeah) to Ta Prohm, famous for photographs that show huge tree roots over the stone doors. While this temple is relatively less decorated, it’s interaction with the nature made it impressive to walk around. In truth, if you are a fan of first person shooter games, role playing games or puzzle games; Angkor is a dream world come true. You wander from ruin to ruin, with collapsed stones (but with etchings still intact)ball around you. It is like going through a maze looking for hidden doors and treasures. The irregular shaped buildings, the air of abandoned mixed with your imagination of what the buildings used to look like, made it a spectacular area to visit. 

The rest of the morning passed by quickly, and I eventually ended up in Angkor Wat once again to take more photos, and say a little farewell since I am not plannin to visit it tomorrow (well, we shall see). I cycles back to the hostel, enjoyed a quick dip in the pool, before trying to book my bus ticket for Phnom Penh. A lot of confusion occurred and the staff at this hotel seemed a little unsure about what they actually offer and how to book tickets. It is one of the more common issue with these “party hostels”: they pay more attention to making people stay longer, and seemed to forget what a hostel really is. Giving up, I walked to the Pub streets area to have a late lunch and a refreshing ginger tea. 

Since Cambodia is famous for foot massage, I decided to try one. For US$8, I had an hour long massage on my feet (and head, back and shoulder). After walking and cycling for 2 days, my calves were engorged with lactic acid and felt pretty stiff. There were a lot of poking and pressing of my soles and it felt great to release the tension. On the other hand, it actually hurts a lot when she kneaded my sore muscles. The mix of pain and pleasure was quite intoxicating, and I suddenly wondered if that is what S&M is like: a cycle of pain and pleasure, somewhat like life? My foot massage therapy ended with a cup of hot tea and the lady telling me how I have big calves but not big feet. Since we all know what they say about people with big feet (err…they have big shoes?), I came out of the experience a little deflated. 

So the day was filled with experiences on why size may matter. The size of my motor (cycling) was so out of shape that I was super tired after biking; that my small feet was makin my foot massage lady happy (less area to knead on); and that the size of my wallet forced me to skip some temples visits. I guess in a certain sense, size does give one advantage. If you have the right size and know how to use it to your advantage, you can do many great thing. (Well, or at least make the feet massagers very tired. Unless they have a foot fetish? What a great choice of occupation then….)

Soccer Watching and Faking

7/29/15

   
    
    
    
   
We have all been taught to fake interest from time to time. It is smart (well, I call it smart anyway) to fake attention when your professor is talking (or your boy/girl friend, mother, father, brother, sister…you get my point). We have all learned from experience the effectiveness of a little white lie (no, it is not something white lying around). Especially for people who have had studied for quite a few years, it also becomes second nature. It is therefore interesting to see people faking interest. 

I woke up feeling a lot more rested (it rained and the room was much cooler. Yes, I will probably be a very unhappy boy when I get to northern Columbia). I actually had no plan for today, except to see a soccer/football game tonight. I wanted to buy a ticket and get in myself, but my hostel convinced me that doing t through a tour agency maybe a better idea. Afterall, I get to sit in the local fans section, and I will be with the rest of the foreigners. With nothing to do until 6pm, I visited the local botanical garden (very impressed) and the local shopping area. It was a good to see the modern side of Medellin, and I have to say, I am quite impressed by the city. It really reminds me of a younger Hong Kong and Singapore. The people seem to have the drive and purpose that seemed lacking in so many other places I have been in. 

In the evening, I packed my bags (for my 6 flight! Cheapest I could find, hence the weird hours), and got ready my first football (that players play with feet) in South America. I was picked up at my hostel, and dropped off in front of a beer store next to a fried chicken store. We bought beer from the store and drank with the locals. I immediately noticed a problem: the group was not very interested in making friends. It is an interesting phenomenon: sometimes I will comes across tour groups with people that want only to associate with faces they are familiar with (on more than one level). I chatted with a few people, but actually talked a lot with one of the local guys who was also helping out as our local contact. He bought me a few beers, and we chatted about why I chose Columbia to visit. I then chatted with a fellow traveler from Belgium who is ending his round the world travel.  

Things got interesting when we arrived at the stadium. We were patted down twice (and I mean patted. Any more intimate would probably result in a cigarette afterwards. Seventies reference, unless you smoke), and was led to the local section. It is familiar ground for me, since I have been to a few “soccer” games in Seattle and other cities. The fans were all hopping and cheering (without alcohol: they only sell non-alcoholic beer in the stadium-  almost feel like calling for a lady of the night and then spent the night watching only). Everyone in the group was excited and cheering for the Medellin team….for about 20 minutes. When I took a bathroom break, I noticed some of the tourists were sitting and staring into space. 

The home crowd was a little subdued at first, when the local team was down 0-1. However, they continued the endless chanting (with some really complicated ones that involved mountains, heart, love and many more), and in the early second half, Medellin scored a equalizing goal. The crowd went wild, and was rewarded with a second goal in the late second half. I must say, the energy was addicting, and I found myself emotionally investing in Medellin, hoping they would pull an upset. It all ended well: the home team won 2-1. 

Now, I am all for people getting excited about the game, but it got a little strange when the crowd that was staring into space and looking bored started to exclaim how great the game was after the final whistle. They went on and on about how the energy was infectious, the game was the best they have been to, and how they really had a great time and felt connected with the local crowd. It is a little interesting because I do that sometimes, but never to this extend. I ended up just observing the interaction, and eventually got dropped off at my hostel.

On one hand, I had a really great time, and being at the game reminded me how much I miss my friends back in Seattle. On the other hand, I am a little amused at how some travelers reacted: pretending to have a great time while they looked really bored during the game. Maybe I was just wrong and their bored expressions were just faces of intense concentration. I know I fake it sometimes (thank god I am not female. I would be so good at faking…nvm), but I never fake it to such extreme level. Then again, maybe this is what is necessary in life: fake it to the extreme so people believe in whatever you fake in. After all faking it is half way to making it?

(Also, I really wish hostel guys will stop talking about: how easy it is to have sex with local girls, how being from US make them expert in everything US, how locals find gringos attractive, how much they partied and drank, how many girls they bedded in one country….sigh. I am getting old.) 

Classes and Hotel

6/26/15

   
                   M

I like to justify expenses all the time, especially if I really need an excuse. I need those shirts for a conference; an urge to kayak during summer; or even paying extra for an upgrade in gym membership (hey, free towel service and the showers have doors!). I know I am supposed to be thrifty and saving money for better purposes (donating to funds for a good cause, paying for rent, adopting a child, etc.), but sometimes urges just get better of you (hehe). This is especially bad for traveling, and it seems I just can’t help but give in these days.

I woke up at the Mallki hostel with a very sore ass, and this uncomfortable feeling of feeling something hard against my rear. Since I was sleeping face up, I was quite sure nothing sexual happened, and realized the mattress had caved in around my hip area. Yes, the mattress actually formed a depressing just around my behind, and all my weight has been concentrated there for the whole night. After a while day on the bus, I was too tired to even turn, so I had been sleeping on a bed just like I was sleeping on the bus. 

I went downstairs for a self service breakfast (that had no explanation- I just watched what everyone else did and copied them), and headed off for my first mission: find a Spanish school. The first feeling on seeing Cuenca in the morning: modern, with European architecture in the old city. It was an interesting mix of recent and past: there are shops that sells general supplies that looks like they are in early 80s, but a few steps and you see boutique shops with the urban/open space/soho vibe. The cost of living is also lower here, and with the usage of U. s. currency, it is indeed a good place for retirees from U.S.

I found my Spanish school (Simon Bolivia), and they were quite happy to obtain my money. I registered for 3 hours a day class at $9 an hour for 5 days, starting next Monday. It was a little more expensive than I wanted,  but the school is highly rated in many travel guides, and they have daily school activities and coffee breaks for making new friends. After registration, I realized I have to change hostel: my classes start at 8am, and the free breakfast only starts then too. (Well, that was the excuse I made, of course. I think the pain in my ass was speaking louder than my brain..). I found one much closer to my soon to be school, and splurged for a private room. It is a cycle: the last time I had a private room, it was in Sucre, Bolivia where I studied Spanish too.

The rest of the day was spent walking around, looking at markets, getting trapped by crowds watching church parades, getting trapped by vapors from church (I felt like I was completely cleansed…)- the usual when arriving at a new city and country. I am actually secretly (well, now that I am saying it on a blog, it is not quite the secret anymore…?) glad I have a private space again. I came up with lots of excuses for this little luxury: needing a clean bathroom for my open wounds (seriously, the hostel shares bathrooms can be really icky), the need for space during studies, the close distance to my future school. However, I think I was just ready for some lone time on a new city: to adjust to new customs, food, culture, currency (well…excuse again), and many more. Sometimes, maybe a little soul searching and heavy studying may pave the way for better future?

(My bank account certainly disagreed. So did my wallet, my speadsheet, my coffees, my ice creams….)

Old Man and The Sea

6/21/15

   
             Since I have more time, I actually read through some of my more recent blog posts. I noticed a trend (yes, of course apart from the poor grammar, bad spelling, etc.): I have been grumpy in the past week (like the grandpa in Simpsons- hey I have yellow skin too!!). Some travelers have told me this might happen. Supposedly on long trips, everyone goes through some emotional ups and downs as time passes by. You enter a cycle of excitement and weariness, like the waxing and waning of the moon (That, or I am either having menopause or turning into a werewolf). A little of me think it has to do with the poor hostels experiences I have recently, along with a lack of good travel buddies (hm..I did meet Julian in the Amazon though). Whatever the case, I really need remember to be positive about things (hmm. Is that even possible for me?!).

I woke up with a pain in my neck (literally, not figuratively. But the bar music was a pain in my rear last night. Figuratively, not literally. Confused yet?) due to the flaccid pillow (hehe). I went for a run, only to discover it was high tide and there was limited beach to run on before I was stranded on rocks. Interestingly, the hostel here actually have a pull up bar, some weights and a barbell made from steel rebar and concrete. So I just did some exercise and headed for breakfast. It was a complicated system: I had to collect a ticket from the front desk, then walk to the pool bar (about 20 steps) and hand in the ticket for 2 pieces of bread, coffee and juice. The MBA in me want to streamline the system, but I resisted the urge and just  ate the bread.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, reading a book and watching people learn how to surf. It is always a regret of mine not being able to learn surfing: my glasses won’t fare well (or more importantly, I won’t fare well without my glasses. It could be a real farewell to the living world for me). It was a lot of fun watching a group of girls ogling at guys learning surfing. I seriously avoided ogling at kids playing just in case some parents got the wrong idea. Also, I once again confirm the theory: people who wear the least clothing are those you really wish they’d wear more clothing. 

In the evening, I climbed up to a local lighthouse for a view of the sunset (and thereby trespassed a few backyard). Noticing an onslaughts if kids approaching the lighthouse with the same intention (well, I guessed with the same intention. They might have been there to play hide and seek for all I know), I opted to watch sunset back on the beach. I love watching sunset, but this quote always comes to my mind:” you know- one loves sunset when one is so sad…” I think today of all days, I wish I could have watch sunset 44 times. (If you are confused, google that quote.)

The bar is a lot quieter on a Sunday night, and I hope I can sleep well tonight (minus the neck cramp!). I think to take everything into perspective, I am actually doing pretty ok. I have my books (kindle!), my connections with family and friends (blog!) and the ability to enjoy traveling and good food (money…sigh). I guess it is a good thing I decided to stop for a while and relax. My brain, of all things, definitely needed a break from all these inner monologues. Hopefully, my emotions will swing back to balance and I can appreciate the experience positively again. 

(Someone shod really invent a way to watch sunset 44 times a day. A fast jet? A very fast boat? Space rocket? No, I don’t want to watch a video of sunsets…that’s cheating!)

Normal and Illusion

5/7/15

wet market

old church

details

wow

roof view

more roof view

roofs

white church

church

zebras for zebras crossing

It has been a month since I started traveling. For someone who has allotted quite a lot of time for South America, I rushed through Argentina and Chile in less than 3 weeks. Not because I don’t like those countries (on the contrary, I really want to visit Santiago again), but because they are fairly expensive compare to Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador. (Well, now everyone tell me Brazil is worst. Maybe I should really watch my budget!) It has been a pretty hectic month, traveling 7 cities and trying to record everything as best as I can (mostly because I have a lousy memory. I usually forget names 5 seconds after someone introduce themselves.)

It is funny how you get a sense of normality once you stay sleep in the same bed for 3 days (maybe that’s why bad relationships last so long?). I woke up feeling refresh and in a pretty good mood, since I adjusted to the bed and finally had a good night rest. Being in different bed every other days really took a toll. After a nice leisure breakfast of eggs and papaya (err..because I only bought eggs and papaya), I sat down to revise my Spanish vocabularies, and set off to supermarket for some milk and veggies. As usual, I was lost for quite a while before I found the pretty big supermarket and obtained my supplies. I think I can have a normal breakfast tomorrow…oh wait, I forgot to buy bread. Ah well.

The afternoon was spent on visiting the local catherdral-Iglesia San Felipe de Neri. It is a grand church, also known as the “White Church” since it is all white with red roof (similar to many buildings in downtown Sucre). I found a nearby church with a less expensive entrance fee, climbed to the roof, and took quite a few photos while enjoying the sun. The church I visited was in dire need to repair, but somehow they also allow visitors to climb onto the roof with planks as steps. Well, I guess if you do fall to your death here, it is an easy and direct entrance to heaven?

The rest of the day was spent in Spanish class and studying, eating quick dinners and then off to bed. As I was trying to sleep, the couple next door started having sex (well, I assume it was sex. There was moaning and groaning from a lady and creaking sound from the bed. But for all I know, they could be trying to shut an overpacked suitcase). Well, that broke any illusion of normality immediately. By now, I am well trained enough to ignore those noises and fell asleep pretty quickly (but also noticed the lady must been enjoying herself quite a lot).

(Actually, when I was staying in Seattle, my upstairs neighbors also sometimes have sex at 2am in the morning. Maybe that’s the actual normality afterall. Maybe Peace and quiet was actually the illusion I am holding on to?)

Rest and Prepare

4/28/15

   
           I am an impatient and stubborn person. At the same time. I am Chinese. This means that I have perfected the art of looking pattient and understand while having a cursing inner monologue. I must admit, it has gotten a lot better as I grow older. For example, I no longer eish bad things happen to those refusing to let me change lanes when driving. But deep down, I want things to happen, happen now on my schedule when I want it. (Come on, you know you want the same thing too, if you can.)

Today is a rest and prep day (hence the title) for the upcoming 3 days salt flat tour. I have been hearing a lot about the salt flat tour, and it is one of the 2 things I looked forward most on my trip (the other being Galapagos). I met up with Andy, and new friends Simon and Anita to do this portion of the trip. While this is the dry season and I may not get to see the mirror effect, it should still be an interesting experience. 

So the rest of the day was spent getting cash for payment, getting cash for exchanging Bolivian dollars, buying supplies (must bring own water, toilet paper and other essentials), washing clothes, chilling, researching on Bolivian cities, and sun tanning. This is such a different feeling from the normal 2 weeks vacation trips. I used to pack my schedule tightly, trying to see everything and do as much as possible. But now, with more time, I can actually take a whole day just to get ready. At the same time, this does wonders for my patience. Knowing I have time to spare means I am ok with waiting, just sitting around and enjoy the hostel.

San Pedro de Atacama is an interesting place. While it is an oasis, it seems to exist solely for tourist visiting the Andes, the desert, the geysers, and/or salt flat. There are not many amenities: no posh hotels, expensive restaurants or designer stores (well, except high end hiking gears). There are lots and lots of tour agencies, but they all offer about the same tour, and group participants into the same eventual tour groups. (In U.S., I think someone would have found a way to monopolize this situation…) The town’s weather is usually great, high of 25 Celsius in the day, low in the single digit at night. 

As I wait for my group to get supplies, I realized my impatience of the past was not because of my personality: it was because I was always pressed for time. Time to finish homework, to graduate, to do more at work, to be better than anyone else. I guess I should really slow down and take things as they come. After all, patience is a virtue, right? (I know, I don’t have any virtue. Not even quite sure what they are. But maybe I will learn…but then again, probably not. I can always pretend to look patient while screaming in rage internally…)

New City and Old Memories

4/14/15

Cordoba City Center

Cordoba City Center

San Martin

Square

Museum

Statues

Church

Church2

Ceiling

Shh

Jesus!

art

Why is there a very BIG star?

View from church

Err…??

Read

Jesuit

salad

Comic books

More comics

Back when I was a student in Singapore, napping was a daily routine. After school ends, I usually go home and take an hour nap, then got woken up for dinner, follow by hours of studying and doing homework. (well, and hiding library books to read while pretending to study, of course.) I guess as we started to work in the real world, napping is luxury we can no longer afford. There are only that many times you can tell your boss: I just closed my eyes to collect my thoughts; I was composing a new prayer for my lord/lords/ladies; or I was just testing the tensile strength of the table with my cheek. I am so used to not napping that I forgot how it felt like…until today.

At 7:30am, the bus dropped me off at Cordoba omnibus station. I guess by paying for cama seats, I got some sleep, but not any other service. (Guess I will have to pay more for executive seats for special treatments. And by special, I mean food and drinks, not happy ending.) I napped on and off, half afraid of not getting off at the right stop, and half distracted by all the noises and lights. The result was a very tired me, carrying my huge backpack in a foreign bus station. I decided to have some coffee and breakfast (which in Argentina is usually 2 croissants 1 coffee and 1 juice), and set up a game plan.

I decided I was too lazy to walk 20 blocks with my backpack, so I took a taxi to the new hostel – Aldea Hostel. Unfortunately, my reservation did not go through and they only had single rooms or 6 beds. Realizing I need some sleep desperately (and knowing I have quite a few more bus journeys), I decided to splurge and stayed in a single room (which incidentally have a full size bed and a single bed, side by side – maybe it is for adult kids who like to sleep really really close to their parents? A threesome that spans two beds? A concubine?) After checking in, I put my game face on and went out to sight see.

Cordoba is the second largest city of Argentina (first being Buenos Aires). It is a more cultured city, knows as The Doctora, since there are so many universities here. Found in 1573 (!), the city has a heavy Spanish influence (well, named after Cordoba, Spain too). The most interesting fact is that there is a World Heritage Site here – The Jesuit Block. The atmosphere is truly different. The city feels much older, citizen moves a little slower, and most importantly, prices are definitely cheaper. I walked around the square, and it immediately reminded me of Poland. If Buenos Aires is bustling and sleek, Cordoba is definitely more mature and subdue.

Walking around (and having found salads in a mall), it started to pour rain. Not wanting to get too wet (again, I feel like there is a joke here I should make), I returned to the hotel for a much needed nap. Of course, that also made me groggy, and woke up with a headache. I asked the front desk for dinner recommendations, and he said restaurants here don’t open till 8pm. But fast food like empanadas, pizzas, and croissants are available all day.

As I sit in bed typing this (thank the lord for wifi. Praise the lord? That’s the prayer I came up during nap today.), I have a sudden pang of missing my friends. I guess during my fitful sleep on the bus last night, I had quite a few dreams of my friends, family, Seattle and many other places. Napping seems to have brought those dreams back alive, and it is definitely an uneasy feeling. As I am thousands of miles away, my brain has returned to places it is most familiar of, trying to make sense of its new surroundings.

(To be honest, I’d be the happiest person alive if all I have to do is study and do homework – and have food, lodging, allowance all taken care of. Of course, a comic book hidden inside my study materials would be even more awesome.)

Onwards and Bus

subway to bus station

Train station

Bus offices

Ticket

breakfast in bus station

breakfast

new room

 

4/13/15

When I was in college, I used the bus system all the time. I still remember riding Greyhound all the way to Michigan, NYC, Buffalo, Toronto and Niagara Falls. Along the way, I met many interesting (i.e. strange and weird) people along the way. When I started working, I bought Robin’s old car, and then elevated me into the car-owning population. I could finally go whenever and whenever I want (well, as long as there is a road). Now that I am traveling around South America, I am once again beholden to the bus system. I have been told great things about Argentinian buses, and am quite excited about riding the bus.

I decided to leave Buenos Aires tonight instead of tomorrow, since I want to arrive in Cordoba in the day time. It takes approximately 10 hours, and leaving at night would also allow me to try to cama (bed) class on the bus. There are a few classes of seats here: Semi-cama, cama, cama executive, and whatever the company decided to call its super luxury class. The prices are about US$10 difference between each class. I have been told semi-cama is actually great for day trips, but cama is the way to go for overnight. With that in mind, I took the subway to Retiro Omnibus station to get my cama seat ticket. It was a little confusing at first, but I finally realize the bus agencies each has their own window, and you just go up to each and ask for the time, date of departure and pay for the ticket. I opted for Chevallier Bus. I have been told good things about this company, and more importantly, they have both semi-cama and cama in the same bus-thus the price is lower than an exclusive cama bus. Unfortunately, it is not a direct bus, so I have to watch out for my stop. Hopping off too early or too late could become an issue.(also, I kept wanting to type Karma instead of cama. I really hope someone somewhere invent a Karma class ticket soon. But I guess that would mean I get the lowest class?).

I decided to go for a run along the Ecology Reserve in the afternoon. One thing I observed: there are lots of people eating lunch from noon till 2pm. It is not quite like the US lunch rush, and there are also a lot of people jogging around at 2pm. I also have to wash some clothes, since I sweat a lot under the Buenos Aires heat. (My socks started to smell pretty fragrantly-a fact I have forgotten ever since I started living in Seattle.) The hostel, as usual, was full of weird information, but I managed to get them to tell me the address for a laundry service. With my limited Spanish, I think I managed to persuade them to give me my clothes back the same day at 7pm, but we shall see. I maybe going to Cordoba sans a lot of clothing if that don’t happen. (I aim to just wash my clothes in the sink next time-as long as my roommates don’t steal my clothes, that is.)

So here I am, sitting in a starbucks once again typing this entry up. I will be picking up my laundry at 7pm, packing my bags, and taking the 10:20pm bus to the second largest city in Argentina – Cordoba. I n the meantime, pray that my clothes comes back, I get to the bus on time, the bus get to Cordoba, and I remember to get off the bus at the right stop. I guess it is time for me to get used to riding long distance buses again, albeit in a different country with a different language. I wonder If I’ll experience a sense of deja-vu – or maybe it Is just my karma trying to tell me to be a better person. Afterall, I did participate in illegal activity very recently…

(well, I just arrived in Cordoba. The bus was ok, but the new hostel looks good so far. They have good wifi. But they also don’t have vacancies for 3or 4 beds shared rooms, so I got a single room. It is spacious and nice, but $$ is flying away fast. Well, they have rooms for 6, but I really didn’t want to share with 5 others. Also, I tried to book online, but they rejected my credit card. I was too tired from the bus ride to look for another hostel….)

Tour and History

4/10/15

botanical garden

F-1

new neighborhood

Port view

streets

Smallest front

Food!

selfie

tango

layout

historic building

hmm

Boca Junior Stadium

Tourist traps

La Boca

more colors

La Boca

La Boca Building

Pope

colors

When I was planning this trip, I had some worries about how I would fare in a hostel (well, I guess it could also be hostile) environment. I mean, at a ripe old age of 36, I am not really the party animal I used to be (Bobby can attest to that. I did pass out in downtown Savannah once, drove drunk back from Secrets night club back to Salisbury…well, you get the picture.)

Have you ever have trouble falling asleep even though your body is so tried that rolling on the side is too much effort? That was me in my first night in Hostel Florida. Even when some guy next door started playing a Peruvian flute (maybe he is a pipe piper in training?), all I did was listen and wonder how song he was trying to play. In the end, I think I fell asleep at 2am (after m drunken roommates walked in).

Luckily, I was able to wake up bright and early at 8am for hostel breakfast, which consisted of bread, jam, yogurt poured from a jug (yeah, don’t ask.), milk, coffee, and apple. While it was not amazing, it was enough sustenance to last me through the day. As I was sitting in the common room trying to get onto that (irritating and unreliable) internet, one of the guides approached me to do a free tour of La Boca. Lo Boca has an interesting reputation: it is a touristy area, but also a poorer neighborhood. Hence, you need to bus there, and tourists are asked to stay in a few areas only, and leave by 6pm. After reading all these PSA in the Lonely Planet, I decided to take up his offer.

The tour group actually comprised of 2 hostels, and we had both Spanish and English guides. We started by taking the #8 bus from downtown to La Boca. Along the way, I got to know a few English speaking tourists, and found that there are a few backpackers like me (though not the directions I am going). We chatted a little about our experiences, including Sharon, a german who spoke really good mandarin. She spent 1.5 years in China, and studied mandarin in school. I also met another guy from NY, who is a mechanical engineer on a 2 months break. I have to say, while it is good to learn Spanish by total immersion, it felt good to have proper adult conversations instead of kindergarten ones. (I mean, there is only that many times I can ask people how old they are…)

La Boca, meaning the mouth, is actually where the mouth of the river is. (Please feel free to Google the history and fun facts, I am too lazy to actually write them down.) It has the look of a super tourist trap, with people wearing tango costume waiting to put a fedora/feather boa (not constrictor, that’d be way too cool) onto you for a photo moment-that cost two to five pesos. We wandered around, going through history of Madonna (the football player, not the bra wearing one), Evita and some great tango singer. I really appreciated the guide, especially since I went to a museum the day before and understood 10% of the exhibits. We even got to Boca Junior stadium (with the name meaning a chocolate box, and the fun fact that Madonna played there for one season-again, not the singer). Apparently, it was wise of Seahawks to trademark the “12^th Man”, since Boca junior supporters have the same slogan.

For 100 pesos (about US$10 if you exchange in the black market, but $15 in the official ones), the guides offered a second tour to San Telmo and Puerto Madero, while offering local empanadas and Chorizo. Seeing how much I actually learned in the morning, I decided to splurge and continue the tour. We went to a old building where it was converted from a mansion for one family to rooms for 10 people each (or in Seattle, efficient apartments). The guide said that they even had a schedule for bed, and rent them by hour (I guess somewhat akin to motels along Aurora Ave in Seattle?). We then all had some very nice and cheap empanadas (15 pesos).

San Telmo is a historic neighborhood, and we visited the oldest cobblestone street, the house with the smallest front (about 10 feet wide), and a wall mural of Che Guevara (with a small side note that says “For love, use a condom” in Spanish). Unfortunately, only the New Yorker and I burst out laughing. I guess crude humor is not for everyone.

We ended up in Puerto Madero, where the port was moved a few times and is now a site for university. The history was fascinating, but it was so hot that half the tour group was forever wandering looking for some shade. The Guide then told us all about Puente de Muher:

 The Architect said he was inspired by the arch of a woman’s leg during tango.

 Really? That looks pretty similar to some other bridges we have in other countries.

 Yeah, apparently the architect designed a similar looking on in Ireland, saying he was inspired by the  harp.

Well, I guess the world is a small place afterall.

I ended up the night trying some Asado in a Parilla. There were intestines, all cuts of beef, liver and kidney. Thanking my Asian heritage, I enjoyed everything, even able to call out what some organs were. My table mates were not too happy to know they were eating organs. It is nice to know other cultures enjoy internal organs as much as Chinese do (but I must say, I prefer dim sum over roasted livers). After dinner, a roommate and I went to a bar, but it was pretty quiet. I guess what the guide told us was true: Argentinians do not party until 2 am in the morning. I was told no one shows up until 2am, and the party goes on until 6am.

While I was interested to see party action at 4am, I guess my old age is catching up on me, so I just went to bed around midnight. On one hand, I really wish I can party like it was 2001, but then, I would not have been able to see as many sights. I guess I’d rather not get drunk and pass out on the streets again (well, unless I have friends to take care of me, that is). Trying to get to sleep while laying in bed, I realized that the guy next door playing the flute last night was probably too drunk to sleep too. I guess no matter how old you are, falling asleep in the hostel is not easy.

Reminders and It’s a small world (afterall)

Floria Ave

signs

Congressional building

Protest

Casa Rosada

Evita

Plaza de Mayo

Pink building

Pink

4/8-4/9

It always amazes me how the world is such a small and yet vast place (cue the Disney: it’s a small world afterall…). I mean, every place is but a plane ride away (well, three for me from Seattle to Buenos Aires), and while culture and language are different, everyone has to work to survive. The great world of commercialization and capital market!

Thanks to Shane, I was able to get to Seatac on time (actually, much earlier than expected) for my flight to Orange County (John Wayne) Airport. I had three flights (since I was cheap and used mileage), landing in OC, Atlanta and finally Buenos Aires. Being nervous and excited, I thought it was a fun idea to have McDonald’s breakfast in OC as a farewell to US. The flights were mostly uneventful, except I am not a big fan of Delta’s seats with no leg room. It was therefore a (pleasant?) surprise that the first restaurant that greeted me in Buenos Aires airport terminal was none other than – McDonalds. I guess it is a small world, and shows how global McDonald is. (Guess I should look into buying their share when I get back to US, and actually have money to spare).

Since the Hostel Florida provided a shuttle, I was transported to downtown Buenos Aires (BA) in about 45 mins (well, after a 2 hour bus wait. I guess free=wait?). BA is a sprawling city, with a huge population and tons of construction projects. It still amaze me to see how different construction safety standards vary across the world. They wear no face mask when drilling, and use few safety cones. But then I realize why once I step onto the road onto Florida Ave. The pedestrians are even more aggressive than those in asia- the cross the road even when trucks are approaching at travel speed. It is an amazing site to behold (and I wonder multiple times whether people will stop if someone gets hit?).

The other fun fact is how many money exchangers there are on the street, Due to currency instability, US dollars is in very high demand here. So much so every few steps on Florida Ave (which is very much like the 3^rd Street Promenade in Los Angeles), you hear “Cambio”, or “exhcnage”. I think the official rate Is 10 peso for 1 US (while the official exchange is 8 peso). I guess I should have brought more US cash afterall.

So being late in the day and super jet lagged, I chose to just walk to Plaza De Mayo, Casa Rosada (where Evita spoke on the balcony…yes Madonna acted in Evita. But it is a musical first!), and the local museum. I guess I have another first hand experience with protest (after Hong Kong), as a small crowd was there to protest….something. I mean, I’d love to learn more, but my Spanish is way limited and I have no idea what anyone said 90% of the time. The sites were amazing, but it was also really hot and dry. I tend to forget it is summer in Buenos Aires, and I just came from Seattle, where it is still nice and cool.

Trying to save money, I bought some yogurt and sandwich for dinner. Getting back to hostel, I realize one of my major mistakes: almost everyone in the hostel speaks Spanish and very little English. I guess they are mostly from surrounding countries. The only 2 girls that spoke English brushed me off when I tried to talk to them. Also, the wifi in this hostel is really bad ( I think some will call it sucks balls). I can’t log on 90% of the time, and it is extremely slow.

 

Taking a night walk, I noticed a lot of cafes (well, and starbucks). I guess with so much coffee around, I feel almost back in Seattle. I guess the world is a lot more similar than we all think.

(When the hell can I get wifi connection so I can post this blog???? )