Librería "El Ateneo"

A marvel out of time.

Today, being another "lunes feriado" - that is to say a day off from work - I slept in late, took my toast and tea in my pajamas and couldn't think of anything better to do than to go to one of Buenos Aires most famous bookstores.

El Ateneo, a chain in Buenos Aires, has several locations, but the only one that really matters is, near the intersection of c/ Santa Fe and c/ Callao, in a renovated theater constructed in the early 20th century.  So what if the books are all in Spanish and only a select few of discounted tombs have price tags (exorbitant by Argentine standards) it doesn't really make a lick of difference.

The store was easy enough to get to.  I picked up "colectivo" 146 outside of the apartment and proceeded to be jostled, squashed and rubbed up against by any number of strangers while clutching my purse to my stomach like a good "porteño".  I jumped off the sardine can a few stops early to enjoy the sites on my to el Ateneo.  In truth, Buenos Aires is a fairly dirty city with poorly maintained side walks, little regard for pedestrian right of way, very little grass and an abundance of dust, "caca" and cigarette smoke.  Doesn't it sound romantic?

Don't worry... El Ateneo, and a few other gorgeous places, make up for all of that:

Once I had stopped drooling and cooing in admiration I dug up an armful of books from assorted sections and gaily seated myself in a beautiful first floor box seat to read them over the course of the next two or three hours.  There is a lovely cafe and bar on the stage, but most locals just collect in the too-few leather armchairs and read to their heart's content.  Although books in Spanish aren't difficult to come by with sites like Amazon, it is something else entirely to muddle through shelves and shelves of books, reading little snippets and admiring covers.  In the end, buying a good book is like buying a good wine (or beer).  One has to consider the feel of it, the smell of it, the weight of it, the taste and decide whether it is just rubbish to make time pass by a little more quickly or something that you will hurry home to get your hands on.

While I was tempted by a number of delicacies, including an all inclusive guide to amazing grocery markets, specialty food stores and cafes in Buenos Aires, I was enchanted immediately by this:

"Diccionario fraseológico del habla argentina" by Pedro Luis Barcia.  "Argentine speak", as we gringos could call it, is not only distinctive - it's bewitching.  I have always been a proponent of the very correct, up-right Castillian accent I first learned.  I love it's lisping and rasping and - in some cases - the prolific amount of spit that is necessary to correctly create some of the sounds.  But listen to a porteño speak, even if you don't understand a bit of it, and you will be transported, transfixed and transformed.

See all those little phrases that are italicized?  We all know what they mean, more or less, and what they signify.  Many of them are colloquialisms.  In Richmond, for example, we say: I'm going to the river; which, signifies that we are going to some body of water to relax.  We know, inherently, what it signifies too.  This phraseology is, essentially, just that.  At work I have been reading transcripts of translated lectures and presentations.  I listen to the tape of the speaker in English while simultaneously reading the transcript (also in English) and, all the while, look for and correct errors or misinterpreted words.  As a native English speaker, this is where I shine.  Many phrases like "hitting the nail on the head" are often highlighted since a) they can't be translated literally and b) they have a cultural or regional significance.  As an interpreter it isn't enough to just know what words to use, you have to transport the cultural significance as well in a way that the listener understands why the speaker has used that particular phrase and how it affects or defines the topic.  I am a little... how shall I say... nervous to start the Spanish transcripts although Martin (my boss) assures me that it is going to happen.

[End linguistic rant]

I was so utterly enamored of this phraseolgoy book that I went to the register without even questioning what it might cost: ARS $218.  It didn't matter.  Even if you don't know any Spanish, here is a small sampling of some of the phrases from the book; which, I will be studying and using daily from hence forth.

Useful vocabulary from this post / El vocabulario util de la bitácora:

• " la caca" - n.  shit, crap, excrement
• "el colectivo" - n.  the city bus; runs within the district of the capital
• "el porteño" - n.  resident of Buenos Aires
• "lunes" - n. Monday; the first day of the week
• "librería" - n. bookstore

(and more importantly)

• a caballo 
• ex.  voy a cocinar un bife a caballo
• definition: I am going to cook a steak with a pair of fried eggs
• bien polenta 
• ex.  la tarta de zapallitos es bien polenta.
• definition: This zuchinni tart is optimal; the very best.
• dar por la nuca
• me dio por la nuca 
• definition: He charged me a ridiculous price!

Just a sampling to wet your palette.  

I heard a professor once say "nada significa nada" / "nothing signifies nothing" and I have to say... I believe him.  

Con un abrazo,

Sarah

How to: Get ripped off by a taxista en Buenos Aires, Argentina

It might have been better to take the bus...

So what if most every "taxsita" in the city of Buenos Aires is a real "hijo de puta".  You don't even have to try to get bamboozled by them - they will do all the work for you.

The taxi maffia of Buenos Airies - more locally of the Ezezia International Airport - is notorious in guide books, travel channels and even amongst Argetinians, but don't let that fool you.  They have it down to a science.  The typical scenario is as follows:

Step 1: Exit the airport - by this point there is no turning back.  You have missed the Radio Taxi kiosk.

Step 2: Walk towards the official looking booth situated very conveniently alongside the sliding double glass doors.

Step 3: Nod to the man that immediately spots you and flags you towards the stream of taxis.

Step 4: Allow the man who flagged you to take a hold of your largest and most awkward bag.  Watch carefully as he loads it into the back of the taxi.

Step 5: Enter the taxi.

Step 6: Realize that your driver is already situated within the taxi and that the man that has been "posing" as your driver is now the money changer organizing payment.  Give him 400 pesos and believe him when he hands it back saying you only gave him 200.  Don't bat an eye at his below average mathematics and be sure to let him know you have American dollars.

Step 7: Arrive at your destination and be sure to attempt to exit before your driver demands the "rest" of the total payment.  Noobishly ask if paying before entering a taxi is normal in Argentina and commiserate a little bit when the driver confirms that you were ripped off by the man at the airport.

Step 8: Become irritated when he continues to insist that you are miscounting.  Slowly become aware of the precarious situation you have unwittingly put yourself into as well as how ridiculous you must seem to this oil slick scheister.

Step 9: Exit the taxi, collecting your bags and thanking the driver for his services.

Step 10: Listen as the taxi pulls away to hear your driver radioing his superiors to have a hearty laugh at your very expensive expense.

What it will cost you: Approximately ARS400 + US100 = US191.00
What it should cost: ARS150 / US35.00

What you should do if looking for a taxi in Buenos Aires:
1.  Call for a "Radio Taxi" - the car should have a lit box with "Radio Taxio" on top as well as on the door.  The hotels use "Radio Taxi Premium" and are more than willing to call one for you.  Premiums have a black and white checkered box and "Premium" written on the side.
2.  If you hail a taxi on the street: be sure of the company name and look for the drivers credentials.
3.  Count the money clearly, in front of the driver and where you can see him fumbling for your change.
4.  Beware of fake bills - a real peso will have an iridescent silver perferation along one side of the bill.  Also, rub the jacket of the bill's patron with your thumb and forefinger.  A real peso should have a little bit of a texture to it - much like a proper US dollar bill.


Useful vocabulary from this post / El vocabulario útil de la bitácora:

• El hijo de puta - n. "son of a bitch" 
• La mafia - n.  mafia; very similar to the Italian mafia of New York and New Jersey
• El taxista - n. a taxi driver 

Useful phrases de "la boca argentina":

• Cuánto sale un viaje desde el Hotel Claridge a esta dirreción - How much does a trip from the Claridge Hotel to this address cost?

Zapallitos: The cutest sounding vegetable around

Una tarta de zapallitos - Bonafide c/ Rivadavia, Almagro

Dear Friends,

You would think that Argentine children would be banging their fists on tables demanding their vegetables rather than suckling on an "empanada" (meat pie) or teething with a slab of grass fed "bife" (steak).  I am really very shocked, of course.  With delightfully named vegetable dishes like "tarta de zapallitos" (sap-a-yee-toes) and "pure de calabaza" (call-a-bass-a) attempting to disguise my weak meat tolerance is becoming increasingly more difficult.

What are zapallitos?  First of all... they are laughably close to the word "zapato" which in other Spanish speaking countries means "shoe".  But a shoe a zapallito is not.  Interestingly enough it is a zuchinni - a fat little round-bellied zuchinni.  Pura de calabaza?  Very literally squash puree.  For those of you who know me well you realize that any time a vegetable is pureed and eaten with a spoon is a time for me to "ooh" and "ahh" and exclaim that culinary greatness has been achieved.  But do not misunderstand me - pura de calabaza is nothing like the mushy, "soso" (tasteless) mess that comes out of the Gerber baby jars that I may or may not have gone through a stage of consuming out of curiosity, and possibly as a foray into a wicked sort of dieting, during my final years of college.  Fear not - the project quickly failed.  No, there is definitely a little seasoning and some borrowed creaminess from a bit of "manteca" (butter) in pura de calabaza that, thankfully, fails to entirely masque the delightfully plain and earthy quality of whatever member of the butternut squash family I enjoyed the other night.

But don't think think I am not eating well in Buenos Aires.

To date my diet has consisted largely of "picadas" - shared plates similar to what the Spanish call tapas - with some assortment of cheese, cold cut (like salami), green or black olives and deliciously dense little rounds of house baked bread.  But, after swelling up like a small, happy little tick after two days I have decided to step away from the picadas.  That is, until I have someone to share one with in which case another currently forbidden fruit will be imbued in celebration: beer.

Breakfast is - as is the case in most Hispanic countries - nothing special.  Susana kindly sets the table for me with toast, two types of jam, a little patty of butter, juice, water and the ever more popular "dulce de leche" (I-need-an-entire-post-to-even-begin-to-tell-you-what-this-really-truly-is).  The other students in the house - a Colombian, a German and a Frenchwoman - slept right through the meal or elected to not to even pretend they had some predisposition for eating before 11:00.

The bagged lunch phenomenon has no power here, either.  Lunches are long, between one and two hours, and always taken outside of the office.  So, today I decided to walk down to the famously beautiful cafe "Las Violetas" on Rivadavia Street and have my way with the place. It was a very stylish 2:15 and although there was quite a crowd there were a number of empty tables in the center and a smattering of singles sitting around the edges.  Right about the time I attempted to go through the locked side entrance - rather than the grandiose entrance off Rivadavia - I nearly died of shame and turned right around.  I didn't stop walking until I found this delicious little tarta de zapallitos.  Considering I couldn't understand a damn word my waitress was saying I smiled and nodded and took a few seconds to contemplate which tarta I would like before asking her which she preferred.  She smiled and confidently asserted her favorite.

Forgive me.  This photo is not mine - I am absolutely too petrified to take my camera out on the street, much less my iPod; which, could become my only link to the rest of the world when this US30 power converter - that pops and sparks - fries Myrta (my beast of a green laptop).  I unceremoniously stole this photo from a website: adorable site.  It is a great place to practice your Spanish when you're done here... or just finagle some delightful recipes.  I'm off to do just that!

I promise not to write about everything I eat, just maybe almost everything.  

Useful vocabulary from this post / El vocabulario útil de la bitácora:

• El bife - steak (in this case of beef)
• La calabaza - (n.) pumpkin or any sort of squash
• Comer - (v.) to eat 
• Dulce de leche - (n.) a delicious caramelized sweetened condensed milk sauce or "manjar" in Chile.
• Una empanada - (n.) a savory pastry that is filled with anything from meat to cheese to sweets.
• La manteca - (n.) butter or "mantequilla" in Spain.
• Una picada - (n.) a light dish, often shared, eaten in the late afternoon as a hold-me-over.  
• La pura - (n.) puree - anything from mashed potatoes to apple sauce.
• Soso - (adj.) bland or tasteless.  
• La tarta - (n.) anything from a pastry, tart (sweet or savory) or cake.
• Un zapallito - (n.) zuchinni 

Azua, Dominican Republic - video

Video selection of photos from Azua de Compostela and Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
Music from the album "Contacto" by Cabas


No copyright infringement intended.

Azua, Dominican Republic

Azua de Compostela, Dominican Republic 


Sometimes, words cannot express how places can make us feel.

Azua de Compostela is one of those places.

the first of many

That will never again be just a place, but a feeling. 

A moment.  

That need not be explained.

 Bienvenido a mi mundo.