Hogar: (n). home, household

When you realize you've made a mistake:

Tuesday June 18th marked my one month anniversary in Buenos Aires.  It wasn't until today, however, that the reality of that mile marker set in.  It is shocking to think that in eight (8) more weeks I will be heading home to Richmond.  Home to Richmond.  Don't take this the wrong way, but it sounds a little... strange.

I'm not saying that it doesn't sounds good - it DOES.

In ten days I'll be moving back to Belgrano to live "en casa de familia" / "with a host family"

But, the truth that I, at least, can't handle is that I've grown rather fond of my little apartment.  Sure, it's bridging the gap between living alone and being on vacation, but that's not the point.

I've never lived "alone".  I've lived "on my own" (dime), before and I've "slummed it" and "roughed it" in a dorm before and not once - no - but twice.  

But, I've never had my own chandelier and there is something to that.

And while it is one hemisphere and a gazillion miles away from home (and by home I mean where YOU are), I've come to find my own "nido gaucho" / "little country home" here in Buenos Aires.  A place where I can enjoy a light lunch (even at 4:00pm) in a little peace and privacy.

Here, in spite of the "caos" / "chaos" of the city outside my glass always feels half full , even if it isn't.  (Which, it usually is thanks to friends in Palermo who have provided me with a well stocked little wine cabinet "por las dudas" / "just in case").

 It's a place where, whatever I've forgotten (hair dryer, curling iron, straightener or floral tape...) somehow knew I was coming and helpfully flung itself into the junk drawer.  And waited for me - patiently.  

It's a one in a million (and short/long term rentals are very popular in Buenos Aires) sort of place that even cleans itself magically on Tuesday mornings; where missing socks and slippers re-appear.  

And despite the fact that it's winter - and usually a windy something-in-the-low-to-mid-fifties - flowers are always in bloom.

Will I miss the 10:00-11:00 morning piano recitals upstairs: Probably.

Will I miss "racing" the clunky old elevator up the stairs (and winning): Yes.

Will I crave the comfort of having my own little electric stove top: Of course.

Will I wish I had slept sideways and diagonal more often to make the most of my Queen sized bed: Undoubtedly.

Am I tickled to add one more door to my collection of "Home Sweet Homes" in Buenos Aires...

  

You can  bet your last box of Ziplock bags on it!

How to "vacation" properly

Philosophy 101:

Going on vacation isn't always easy.  

In fact, it can be downright difficult.

But it doesn't have to be.  

The keys to unlocking your best vacation are simple:

1.  Stay at a friend's place.  Their apartment - even if it is just a block and a half away - will have a whole new perspective on the neighborhood.  And if you're lucky it will be double the square footage and have a soaking tub.

 2.  Go out for lunch as often as you can drag yourself out of bed before tea time. Preferably, go to my new favorite spot: "Sagardi" C/ Humberto 1 319 (San Telmo).  Enjoy the charming bar; learn a little "vasco" and devour delicious tapas like "Cream & Blue Cheese with Fiambres"; "Smoked Salmon with Shaved Pickled Onion" and "Croqueta de Jamón y Queso".  At just ARS $12 (US $1.46) a toothpick you can afford to indulge.

3.  Be friendly with the locals.   You can meet charming people (or animals) anywhere - even in the local cemetery.

4.  Have a dinner party for 8 at least once.  Setting the table with someone else's textiles, charming silver and market fresh flowers is like playing Martha Stewart Living.  Plus, you should always make good use of a top of the line dishwasher when you come across one - especially in Argentina. What better way to make sure the machine is working properly than by loading it up with every last piece of dinnerware?

5.  Happy Hour.  Make it your excuse to try some local delicacies you might not get at home.  Gancia is generally defined as an mild, herbal aperitif served on the rocks, or with a little soda water here in Argentina.  For me, it's the epitome of a barely sweetened ginger ale that is as smooth as this gorgeous blue cheese from the "Fiambrería" / "deli" on Larrea.   Did I mention the cold sandwiches of prosciutto and grainy mustard that you can enjoy with the leftovers?

 The bottom line is: sleep in and...

 

6.  ...Eat well and often, but let someone else do the cooking. 

El vocabulario útil:

Estar: (v). to be (expresses location and temporary conditions/moods).

Yo estoy - I am...

Estar parando: (v). (Present Progressive form) to be staying; literally, "to be stopping" 

Example: Estoy parando en Microcentro / I am staying in Microcentro.

Estar de vacaciones: (v). to be on vacation

Example: Estoy de vacaciones

El departamento: (n). the apartment / often called, "el depto" for short 

El Museo Evita + luncheon

An afternoon out for US$12:

Last year I had this imaginary list of all the things that I didn't have time to do while I was in Buenos Aires: the museums; the restaurants; the milongas.

Well, be careful what you ask for because here I am with hours (and hours) of free time on my hands and a list a mile long with places to see and things to do.  What am I waiting for?  Well, I'm not quite sure.

I've been diagnosed as a "Classic Ambivert" which sounds as wild and exotic as it does scientific and of paramount importance.  Simply, it means: "a person who is intermediate between an extrovert and an introvert."

Which explains a lot.  But, I decided that since the sun was shining and temperatures had stabilized around 17 degrees (64 degrees F) that my extroverted side and I needed to go on an outing.

And while we were at it, why not go to a place toted for it's lovely garden and affordable prices: "Museo Evita".  The museum was just a short ride away on No. 37 (folks, that is US $.20 one way) and located in a beautiful old mansion that was once a half-way house for women from the interior.  With three floors; a tower and a beautiful refurbished (and heated) outdoor garden it makes for a delightful afternoon.

The museum itself was arranged nicely and included a collection of photos, papers, clothing from Eva's life.  Reviews said that it cast a heavy handed halo over Evita who, surprisingly, isn't always received with the same zeal that we might imagine.  One of the first rooms is darkened and lined with mirrors and dedicated to a short film with scenes from Evita's funeral procession.  It set the tone for the museum which is beautifully arranged and set to some Bajofondo Tango Club music and if you keep your ears open, it is almost impossible to get lost.  The arrangement is chronological and has placards in English and Spanish. 

The museum then does a back track of Evita's life and life works including women's suffrage as well as the establishment of orphanages and half-way houses for distressed women from interior provinces.  Sure, her Peronist agenda was undeniable (see photo), but in this case the power play of politics didn't sour the milk for me.  In fact, by the last room of the exhibit I had to hold back some unexpected tears as the details of her (sudden) death at the age of 33 unfolded via a tasteful video montage and audio clips. 

In her final speech Evita asks God to let her return to good health not for her sake, but for her husband's (queue tears).  Still more sadly, Evita's remains where hidden away by succeeding governments and then shipped (in disguise) to her husband in Spain until they were reclaimed by the Argentine government in the last ten years and laid to rest (finally) in Recoleta cemetery here in Capital Federal.  


Was it worth US $2.43 to get in?  Of course.  I would certainly do the guided tour if I went again, but you have to sign up for that in advance.

To make it up to myself, however, I had lunch at the museum café.  I had the "Menú del día" (US $8.29) which gives you the option of beef or chicken or the "cazuela" / "stew" or "casserole".  I am a "cazuela" kind of girl so I didn't bat an eye when the waitress said it was "albondigas de carne con arroz" / "meatballs and rice".  Other than the celery, carrots, peppers, onions and tomato in the sauce, there was not a vegetable to be seen.  Except for the homemade potato chips that came as part of a garnish along with some peppery microgreens.  The rice was a little heavy on cream and butter - to the point of becoming a risotto - but, generally, it was: yum.

The daily special comes with bread; water or a soft drink; the main course and either dessert OR coffee.  Obviously, there was no question: 

Dessert (a short crust filled with chocolate mousse; orange peel and some... wait for it... pistachios), along with a little white chocolate sauce.  It was decidedly not your typical Argentine dessert.  Was it spectacular?  By bite number three the wild extravagance of pistachios and orange peel had run it's course so you'll be happy to know that I didn't finish it.  

I sat in the heated gazebo on the patio side of things at one of the little tables nestled just so that I could watch my fellow diners (most of whom were having tea and medialunas since it was 3:30pm).  I made some cultural notes as well as a few recordings of ambient sound (per someone's suggestion) and generally, felt like I had passed the afternoon in style.

Go me.

Vocabulario útil:

sentarse: (v). seat yourself 

cazuela: (n).  stew or casserole 

cacerolazo: (n).  a demonstration where protesters bang on pots and pans

tomar: (v). to take / to drink 

una guarnición: (n). a side dish / NOT a garnish 

Study 1: La medialuna

 Argentine croissants (take 1):

It has come to my attention that people are living vicariously through me, or would like to.  So, I'm doing something I promised myself (and my waistline) that I wouldn't do: buy medialunas.

I mean, I was going to buy them sometime - and probably for somebody else - but in the name of friendship and heartwarming Skype chats, I'm doing this today.

I'm doing this for Divya.

Yes you, Divya.  

And for Doug who sagely advised me in a Facebook message: "do everything, even things you should not do..."  Well Doug, buying four flaky, buttery, sugar sweet croissants on Day 4 is something that I should probably not do, so when (and if) I can't fit into my jeans when I get home I'm blaming you.  



A medialuna is the Argentine version of the French croissant and, chemically speaking, probably doesn't vary too much from the original.  In English we could call these "half moons" or even "crescents", but that doesn't sound half as romantic as medialuna and they are eons and light years away from what Pillsbury squeezes into a can.

Take a moment and say it: medialuna (med-e-a-loon-a).  

Yes, it even sounds delicious.

Here in Buenos Aires every panadería / "bakery" or "breadshop" or confitería / "pastry shop" has medialunas and most of them are more than happy to declare they have the best in the city.  A little research, however, led me to Guber which was listed as one of three locations in the city known for these afternoon delights.

Conveniently, it wasn't far from where I'm staying and with the whole of Buenos Aires downtown on Avenida de Mayo for the Independence Day celebrations I took a quiet stroll (1 mile there and back to be exact) to Aguero 2291 in the heart of Recoleta.

For Divya.  

The shop itself was hidden two blocks from the intersection of Peña and Aguero and halfway up the first block I almost turned back.  It's sandwiched in a quiet, less than elegant, residential area and had it not been for the direction of the wind; a serendipitous breeze and my acute sense of smell I might have missed it entirely.  There were some trays of masas finas (delicate bite sized pastries), as well as facturas (think Danish and cream filled donuts) and churros (piped fried dough very popular in Spain), but the long glass case was filled with medialunas.  It's no wonder: the are sinfully delicious.

So, I bought four (two made with butter and two with lard).  

And brought them home.

And loved them from the start.  

But, before you meet them, let's go over a little medialuna etiquette:

• Should be eaten for breakfast with coffee, tea or mate or with the same beverages for tea time.
• Before entering a panadería always know which type of medialuna you are in the mood for.  Otherwise, you'll either a) end up buying a dozen and regretting it or b) you'll frustrate the attendant and give yourself away as a tourist.
• Slicing a medialuna open and filling it with ham and cheese is allowed and especially encouraged during tea time.  The medialuna then becomes a sacramento / "sacrament" and is nothing short of a religious experience.  Otherwise, skip the knife and fork and leave the butter and jam for toast.
• In most larger bakeries you will need to take a number and wait to be called.  Very often you will pay at the register before you receive your delicacies.

But, I'm afraid just writing about the taste and feel and smell of them isn't enough, so I made a short video.  Sadly, the edited and beefed up version of this video failed to upload to blogger so excuse 1) my hair and 2) the edgy, independent film quality of it :-) Also, I use absolutes at the drop of a hat - you would too if you'd just had two medialunas and three cups of tea.

Important Phrases:

Cuánto sale la docena: "How much does a dozen cost?"

Quiero una docena de medialunas de manteca: "I want a dozen medialunas"

Termotanque: (n). a hot water heater

What to do when the "termotanque" explodes:

The first 15 hours of my next 3 months in Argentina went something like this:

My chic little kitchen par-boiled.

1.  Pause your Skype conversation when you hear a little "wind" / hissing and then a little "rain" / pouring hot water.  Shut off the pot lamps that are dripping with hot water.

2.  Run out of your apartment in your worst flannel pajamas and race down four flights of stairs to the empty desk of the daytime "portero" / "doorman".

3.  Run back up the stairs.

4.  Attempt to call your landlady with an inactive; uncharged cell phone.  A dozen times.  It could work, right...

5.  Run to the next door neighbor and attempt to convince them to let you call your landlady with their phone.

(They refuse twice before agreeing to come to your apartment and see what is going on).

6.  Run back to your apartment and grab every dry towel; dish rag; wash cloth; sponge and bath mat you can find.  Attempt to stem the flow.

7.  Run back to the neighbor and ask them to come see the horrific waterfall of steamy water running down your overhead cabinets and into the sink; down the cabinets pooling on the hardwood floor below.

(Phone rings)

8.  Pick up. Your downstairs neighbor is calling to tell you that water is dripping through his ceiling.  Calmly explain that your "termotanque" / "hot water heater" has, more or less, exploded.  Intrigued, he comes up to see it.

9. Admit that you do not know where the "llave" / "water valve" is and that you didn't ask either.  You were only coming for six weeks, after all.  

(In your defense it wasn't under the sink, or beside the toilet even if you had looked.  Luckily, the downstairs neighbor finds the valve artfully hidden in the bathroom and shuts it off.  Even if the tank is already almost empty).

10.  Thank your downstairs neighbor profusely by saying, "Sos un dios" / "you're a god" and politely introduce yourself to the adjoining neighbor with a smile.  Accept her motherly advice to always ask where the electrical and water shut-offs are and admit to yourself you're still a little bit of a child.

11.  Then, pick your jaw up off the floor when both neighbors shrug and calmly say good night leaving you to await the arrival of your landlady, ankle deep in wet pajama bottoms.

12.  Mop up as best you can and sit down for another glass of wine.

13.  Admit to yourself that your first night would have been downright boring without this little snafu. 

14.  Take a sip.

15.  Give yourself a proverbial slap on the back for having articulated your entire emergency in Spanish with musical "rioplatense" pronunciation and all the proper (and improper) gestures.

The dry half of the kitchen and dining room.

Useful emergency phrases: 

• "Es una emergencia" - "It's an emergency!" 
• "Ayudáme, por favor" - (Vos) "Help me, please!" 
• "Hay agua por todos lados" - "There is water everywhere."
• "Mil gracias por ayudarme" - "A thousand thanks for helping me." 

(A)'merica

Coming home:

I know I said, "home is where you tell yourself it is", but I was feeling nostalgic and perhaps a little bit too prolific for my own good.  The truth is, home is where you can eat double chocolate peanut-butter brownies:

Or a big bowl of oatmeal with Maple syrup and blueberries whenever you want to.

The hardest thing about making a place your home is having to leave it.  So, here I am, back in the United States of America and thinking of all of my homes and the families I left back in Buenos Aires.  I'm glad to be back, of course - that is only natural.  

Especially since too much of a good thing - any good thing - can become a bad thing. 

Traditional "parrilla" 

Take our Sunday evening asados, for example.  Sure, there was something wild and satisfying about slicing chorizo, with the crispy charred grill marks, and stuffing it into a beautifully soft, starchy chunk of pan común (ie. french bread) torn right off the loaf and slathering salsa golf (ie. a variation of Thousand Island Dressing) or chimichurri over the top and calling it a "starter".  

"Choripan" - typical street food literally meaning "chorizo-bread" and consisting of exactly that (bread, sausage and in this case some miracle working chimichurri).

But, all good things must come to an end, even if it is just for a little while.

And you have to learn to restart and reboot; which, isn't always easy either.  At the very least it gives you the equivalent of the technical "blue-screen" mode, during which you have to decide whether you're going to confront change and soldier on, or burn-out completely and totally with no more than a little spark and that stinky burning-rubber smell your last crashed CPU gave off.  

Learning to be flexible is important - and a highly sought after quality by employers (also important) - so let's just try and be positive about this folks.  

 

I mean, after six months of wallowing in the 5 major Argentine food groups on an almost daily basis: beef, empanadas (meat and pastry), pizza, ice cream, dulce de leche; how bad can a two week cleanse really be?  

I'll tell you: apple-kale-banana-parsley-smoothie bad, that's how.  

From the States with love and pureed vegetables,

Sarita 

Buena onda ...

Good vibes:

        

Sometimes, you wake up after six months and you don't even recognize yourself.

 

  Change can do that - so can an extra 6-7 pounds.

Some people go abroad to find themselves...

Which isn't always as easy or as dreamy as it is made out to be in Hollywood films or travel blogs.

When you have to ask yourself: What am I doing in this tiny lighthouse 22+ floors above Avenida de Mayo, squatting on a tiny metal windowsill, squinting into the blazing hot lamp that can be seen from Montevideo?

But it has to be done... and with the utmost patience.

And fortunately, the Universe usually rustles up an answer.

Even if it isn't always clear cut... and even if you have to go all the way to Uruguay to hear it...

 ... and it turns out to be metaphorical.

You'll probably realize that home is where you tell yourself it is.

 And that the journey is what you make of it.