It´s been altogether too long since I updated this! The continuing difficulties with getting photos uploaded have sort of put me off blogging. That said, I´ve been having fun. I´m off to the airport to leave Argentina in about forty-five minutes. Since the last update, I´ve visited Mendoza, Cordoba, and Buenos Aires again, and done a great deal of walking around in cities as well as one day´s nature walk, the Quebrada del Condorito in the Sierra de Cordoba. The latter trip made me feel like an old South America hand because I hailed a bus from the side of a deserted road to get back into town. My time in Mendoza was spent doing a day of napping (it is possible to sleep on overnight buses, but it doesn´t really feel like enough), a day of wine tours, and two days of wandering happily around the city and getting terribly lost in public parks. Even with the Andes to the west, I could not get out of the park in Mendoza to save my life, and wound up stopping a pair of passing cyclists for directions. There was another pair of people I was happy to see in Mendoza, though: Lucy and Dave, the young British couple I´d met in Buenos Aires my first week, were also in town and so we got together for dinner and caught up on the adventures we´ve been having. It was lovely to see familiar, friendly faces.
As warned, I liked Cordoba more than I was expecting to and stayed for four nights instead of moving on. I wandered around the various historical sites - there are two really lovely churches in Cordoba, and a bunch of Jesuit buildings that have been designated as a World Heritage Site. There is also a small town called Alta Gracia, just outside of Cordoba, where one Ernesto Guevara spent much of his childhood. The family home there is now a museum devoted to his life and doings. The exhibits are pretty matter-of-fact in their adulation of El Che, but he was an impressive person in many ways, at the centre of some of the most significant revolutionary movements of the 20th century. Visiting the site made me want to learn more about him and the times he lived in. In fact, this whole trip has made me want to dig into Latin American history a bit. The fallout from the government repression in Argentina is still going on, with debates over reconciliation and punishment still evident in posters on the streets demanding accountability for the crimes. So there are two additions to my reading list once I get home.
I didn´t spend all of my time in Cordoba doing worthy and intelligent things, though. It is also a university town par excellence, having seven universitiesm and the nightlife is thus pretty hopping. I went out with some people from my hostel on the Saturday I was there. The club, Chateau Carreras, was lively even when we left at 5:30 a.m., and played Argentine national rock as well as Cordoban-style cuarteto music, cumbia, and (mysteriously) Shania Twain´s smash hit, Man, I Feel Like A Woman. One of the guys from the hostel was on vacation from Buenos Aires, so he explained the music to us - I was quite glad he was along, because I wouldn´t have had a clue what I was listening to, aside from the Shania.
My last stop was a night in Buenos Aires before my plane tonight. Yesterday I was just wandering around in Palermo, eating ice cream from Chocorisimo (the strawberry-lemon is sensational), but at night I roped a Brit from the hostel into going out for a tango lesson. I liked it a lot, and would definitely go again, because it would be nice to get competent. But I am jealous of Ben the Brit, because he is in BA for longer and can go to this same club again. Once the floor opened up after the lesson, it was full of gifted amateurs and tons of fun to watch. We left at 3 a.m. and there was no sign that the dance floor would be shutting down anytime soon. People were completely caught up in the dance, no matter who their partner was - the very young and rather old danced together, dress shirts and fancy skirts with jeans and t-shirts. It was extremely cool.
Because I kept delaying moving on in order to explore Mendoza and Cordoba, Iguazu Falls and Rosario both got cut out of the itinerary. The natural wonders of Patagonia will just have to suffice for this trip. Plus, it´s kind of nice to be cold and I cannot honestly say that I would have wanted to be (a) on buses for two out of three days, and (b) in a seriously tropical climate at the end of summer. Anyway, this is all a lesson that longer periods of time will be necessary for future travels!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
El Bolson and Bariloche
Big happenings today: I took a four-hour nap. The nap was necessary because the bus I took from Bariloche to here was air conditioned so much that I only got a few hours of sleep, in between waking up to go "my God, it is cold. Why did I think I could leave my sleeping bag in the cargo hold?"
Anyway. I spent Monday and Tuesday in El Bolson and enjoyed it. I did a day hike up past an overlook onto the Rio Azul, to the Cabeza del Indio (Indian´s Head), a rock formation that looks like, you guessed it, a face. It´s pretty neat. The weather was scorching hot and the hike up was lined with blackberry bushes. That night a group of three really rowdy guys got the hostel common room shut down by midnight, so I packed it in then in order to be up in good time for the Feria Artesanal the next morning. There, I bought a few presents for the fam and a pair of really nice dangly copper earrings for myself. For a town the size of El Bolson, the fair was pretty impressive. The aisle of sellers took up the entire south arc of the ovoid main plaza, and there were lots of really beautiful things on sale. Even the yerba mate gourds were nice, and ordinarily I look straight past those because they don´t pass my "will this item look stupid if I use it when I get home?" test. I spent a very happy hour and a half wandering the fair and then departed - I had a bus to catch for Bariloche!
Bariloche was the first place I´d arrived without a reservation, and I had to truck around to a few different hostels before I found one with space. This was no hardship as they were all within about five blocks of each other. Even once I was checked into Periko´s, I wound up hanging out more at another hostel with a few of the girls I´d met in El Chalten. It was quite nice to see some familiar faces, actually, and we tried to go out for a beer before realizing the pub was too expensive for us to ensconce ourselves for the night - we ordered one round and got out ASAP in favour of sitting around playing chess and making fun of Twilight at their hostel. Good fun.
The next day, I took a wander out of town to the Llao Llao municipal park, which is very pretty and is home to the Hotel Llao Llao, reputed to be the finest in Argentina. I wouldn´t know about that, but it certainly looked nice from across the bay. I spent a pleasant few hours rambling around on the pedestrian trails, wondering whether there was any way the pervasive bamboo was native (Dad?). Waiting for the bus back to town, I was forced to buy 100g of mint chocolates by a woman who was not operating under traditional methods of pricing by weight increments.
Thursday and Friday were a real highlight of the trip so far. I hopped on the Club Andino Bariloche transfer out to Pampa Linda, about two hours west of town. Accompanied by a friendly New Yorker named Johnathan whom I´d met on the bus the day before, I hiked up one of Mont Tronador´s glacial valleys and ascended the steep valley wall. One last hour´s walk up a rocky ridge between two valleys got us to Refugio Otto Meiling, which is located between two glaciers and has stunning views of both the summit of Tronador and the country to the east. The refugio itself was much nicer than I expected. The kitchen, staffed by the only two male vegetarians in Argentina, turned out amazing food, but I didn´t buy any because I had been anticipating ski-resort-style food, i.e. overpriced and underwhelming, and had thus schlepped all supplies up the mountain myself, right down the the instant coffee. However, I was able to cadge a piece of chocolate walnut whiskey torte and oh mama was it good. There was also a champagne toast to a nice young Californian couple (Troy and Angie) who had gotten engaged on the way up the mountain. Not bad for a place so far away from anywhere that the stove had to be helicoptered in when they were building it. The mountain division of the ejercito (army) is headquartered in Bariloche, so there were a bunch of soldiers up at the refugio as well, doing some kind of mountain survival training. This is awesome, for the sole reason that Troy and Angie now get to tell people they spent their engagement night sleeping with the Argentine military. As for me, I spent a very comfortable night courtesy of my decision to bring along every bit of warm clothing I had, and exhaustion from six hours of hiking.
A very pleasant surprise awaited me in the morning: affordability! In El Calafate, glacier trekking was in the neighbourhood of 300 pesos: yowza. At Tronador it was "only" 120, so I jumped on the opportunity and spent the morning strolling about between crevasses. Our guide, the fabulous Maurizio, also top-roped us one by one to rappel into a crevasse and climb back out again using our crampons and two ice-picks for traction. A rainbow was hanging over the glacier almost the entire time we were out there. It. Was. Great.
The hike down was a little rainy, but not too bad, and I joined Angie, Troy, and Johnathan for quesedillas at the only Mexican place in Bariloche, Dias de Zapata. After that, there was a house party at Hostel 1004, which is on the 10th floor of the civic centre and has great views over the town and the lake, so I stopped in there and enjoyed some time travel thanks to 1004´s wicked 1970s decor. And that... well, that brings us up to now, because all I did after that was pack up in the morning and head for Mendoza. I nearly didn´t make it, though. The tendency of Argentine bus companies to have several different names simultaneously means that your bus can be kind of hard to spot. I had innocently lined up in front of the only Andesmar bus in sight but fortunately, about three minutes before my bus was due to depart, I asked some the old woman in front of me whether it was the bus for Mendoza. She looked at me as if to say "oh, estupida gringa" and directed me to the correct bus, which had an entirely different line name and no Andesmar insignia. Huh. Anyway, I am now fed, showered, and siesta´ed and feeling much better about life. I have only one complaint: I would like people to stop stealing my instant coffee and tomato sauce. The aforementioned items have been jacked from me twice now, along with a kilo of dried fruit purchased for hiking. Whoever is responsible for these incidents is cordially invited to jump off a bridge.
Anyway. I spent Monday and Tuesday in El Bolson and enjoyed it. I did a day hike up past an overlook onto the Rio Azul, to the Cabeza del Indio (Indian´s Head), a rock formation that looks like, you guessed it, a face. It´s pretty neat. The weather was scorching hot and the hike up was lined with blackberry bushes. That night a group of three really rowdy guys got the hostel common room shut down by midnight, so I packed it in then in order to be up in good time for the Feria Artesanal the next morning. There, I bought a few presents for the fam and a pair of really nice dangly copper earrings for myself. For a town the size of El Bolson, the fair was pretty impressive. The aisle of sellers took up the entire south arc of the ovoid main plaza, and there were lots of really beautiful things on sale. Even the yerba mate gourds were nice, and ordinarily I look straight past those because they don´t pass my "will this item look stupid if I use it when I get home?" test. I spent a very happy hour and a half wandering the fair and then departed - I had a bus to catch for Bariloche!
Bariloche was the first place I´d arrived without a reservation, and I had to truck around to a few different hostels before I found one with space. This was no hardship as they were all within about five blocks of each other. Even once I was checked into Periko´s, I wound up hanging out more at another hostel with a few of the girls I´d met in El Chalten. It was quite nice to see some familiar faces, actually, and we tried to go out for a beer before realizing the pub was too expensive for us to ensconce ourselves for the night - we ordered one round and got out ASAP in favour of sitting around playing chess and making fun of Twilight at their hostel. Good fun.
The next day, I took a wander out of town to the Llao Llao municipal park, which is very pretty and is home to the Hotel Llao Llao, reputed to be the finest in Argentina. I wouldn´t know about that, but it certainly looked nice from across the bay. I spent a pleasant few hours rambling around on the pedestrian trails, wondering whether there was any way the pervasive bamboo was native (Dad?). Waiting for the bus back to town, I was forced to buy 100g of mint chocolates by a woman who was not operating under traditional methods of pricing by weight increments.
Thursday and Friday were a real highlight of the trip so far. I hopped on the Club Andino Bariloche transfer out to Pampa Linda, about two hours west of town. Accompanied by a friendly New Yorker named Johnathan whom I´d met on the bus the day before, I hiked up one of Mont Tronador´s glacial valleys and ascended the steep valley wall. One last hour´s walk up a rocky ridge between two valleys got us to Refugio Otto Meiling, which is located between two glaciers and has stunning views of both the summit of Tronador and the country to the east. The refugio itself was much nicer than I expected. The kitchen, staffed by the only two male vegetarians in Argentina, turned out amazing food, but I didn´t buy any because I had been anticipating ski-resort-style food, i.e. overpriced and underwhelming, and had thus schlepped all supplies up the mountain myself, right down the the instant coffee. However, I was able to cadge a piece of chocolate walnut whiskey torte and oh mama was it good. There was also a champagne toast to a nice young Californian couple (Troy and Angie) who had gotten engaged on the way up the mountain. Not bad for a place so far away from anywhere that the stove had to be helicoptered in when they were building it. The mountain division of the ejercito (army) is headquartered in Bariloche, so there were a bunch of soldiers up at the refugio as well, doing some kind of mountain survival training. This is awesome, for the sole reason that Troy and Angie now get to tell people they spent their engagement night sleeping with the Argentine military. As for me, I spent a very comfortable night courtesy of my decision to bring along every bit of warm clothing I had, and exhaustion from six hours of hiking.
A very pleasant surprise awaited me in the morning: affordability! In El Calafate, glacier trekking was in the neighbourhood of 300 pesos: yowza. At Tronador it was "only" 120, so I jumped on the opportunity and spent the morning strolling about between crevasses. Our guide, the fabulous Maurizio, also top-roped us one by one to rappel into a crevasse and climb back out again using our crampons and two ice-picks for traction. A rainbow was hanging over the glacier almost the entire time we were out there. It. Was. Great.
The hike down was a little rainy, but not too bad, and I joined Angie, Troy, and Johnathan for quesedillas at the only Mexican place in Bariloche, Dias de Zapata. After that, there was a house party at Hostel 1004, which is on the 10th floor of the civic centre and has great views over the town and the lake, so I stopped in there and enjoyed some time travel thanks to 1004´s wicked 1970s decor. And that... well, that brings us up to now, because all I did after that was pack up in the morning and head for Mendoza. I nearly didn´t make it, though. The tendency of Argentine bus companies to have several different names simultaneously means that your bus can be kind of hard to spot. I had innocently lined up in front of the only Andesmar bus in sight but fortunately, about three minutes before my bus was due to depart, I asked some the old woman in front of me whether it was the bus for Mendoza. She looked at me as if to say "oh, estupida gringa" and directed me to the correct bus, which had an entirely different line name and no Andesmar insignia. Huh. Anyway, I am now fed, showered, and siesta´ed and feeling much better about life. I have only one complaint: I would like people to stop stealing my instant coffee and tomato sauce. The aforementioned items have been jacked from me twice now, along with a kilo of dried fruit purchased for hiking. Whoever is responsible for these incidents is cordially invited to jump off a bridge.
Monday, March 9, 2009
O Little Town of El Chalten
Just arrived in El Bolson at 6 a.m. today after two days on a bus through the desert, driving the legendarily isolated and dusty Ruta 40. It is the quintessential road trip experience for those who prefer to see more alpacas than humans on their road trips, and if you are taking the non-stop bus from El Chalten, it entails not showering for two days and living on either truck-stop food (if you are a normal person) or ultra-mushy cheese and tomato sandwiches (if you are extremely cheap, like me). My camera and memory stick are both having some manner of problem with the computer here at the Refugio Patagonico, so I will have to stick to prose for the time being - a shame since I meant to put up some of my favourite photos of Buenos Aires as well as some from my week of hiking. Oh well, live to fight another day.
El Chalten is possibly my favourite town in Argentina so far. El Calafate is nice and all, but it felt rather like Banff. Practically every store is a chocolate shoppe, gift shoppe, or outdoors gear shoppe, and everything is rather expensive. It is the kind of outdoors town where you don´t actually have to hike to fit in - it sort of caters to rich tourists. So I met a nice British girl my first day in town, did the Perito Moreno glacier the following day (incredible!) and caught the bus north to El Chalten on Monday. I much preferred El Chalten, which is much smaller (pop. only about 200) and has a reputation as a trekking centre, as it is very close to some really excellent hiking. Take any trail out of town and you are just a few hours´ hike from the rarefied air. On clear days, you can look up from the townsite and see Cerro Fitz Roy looming majestically over everything - it is the most arresting mountain I have yet seen. To top off all this wonderfulness, Rasila (my travel buddy for the week) and I stumbled into the Albergue Patagonia, which was full of people travelling alone or in pairs and looking to find a hiking buddy or someone to sit with at dinner. Some of the people we met are going to be in Bariloche this week, so I may see them again. To top it off, the lady who greeted us and showed us the ropes, Cecilia, was ultra-friendly and enthusiastic, and made sure we knew where all the trails were. It was out-and-out fabulous, and if the rest of my trip is anything like as good as that week, I will be a happy camper indeed.
El Chalten is possibly my favourite town in Argentina so far. El Calafate is nice and all, but it felt rather like Banff. Practically every store is a chocolate shoppe, gift shoppe, or outdoors gear shoppe, and everything is rather expensive. It is the kind of outdoors town where you don´t actually have to hike to fit in - it sort of caters to rich tourists. So I met a nice British girl my first day in town, did the Perito Moreno glacier the following day (incredible!) and caught the bus north to El Chalten on Monday. I much preferred El Chalten, which is much smaller (pop. only about 200) and has a reputation as a trekking centre, as it is very close to some really excellent hiking. Take any trail out of town and you are just a few hours´ hike from the rarefied air. On clear days, you can look up from the townsite and see Cerro Fitz Roy looming majestically over everything - it is the most arresting mountain I have yet seen. To top off all this wonderfulness, Rasila (my travel buddy for the week) and I stumbled into the Albergue Patagonia, which was full of people travelling alone or in pairs and looking to find a hiking buddy or someone to sit with at dinner. Some of the people we met are going to be in Bariloche this week, so I may see them again. To top it off, the lady who greeted us and showed us the ropes, Cecilia, was ultra-friendly and enthusiastic, and made sure we knew where all the trails were. It was out-and-out fabulous, and if the rest of my trip is anything like as good as that week, I will be a happy camper indeed.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Buenos Aires
I have been having a grand few days in BA. There is so much to see and do - I can´t wait to come back and get to the museum of Latin-American art, and to have a better look around a few neighbourhoods. My first day I got to my hostel and took a nap and a stroll around San Telmo, the historical and antiquing district. I had dinner in a cafe-bar and inflicted my terrible Spanish on the friendly waiter, and then went back to the hostel and passed out again.
The next day I met up with Lydia, a friend of the family who is here on exchange, and her friend Erica, also on exchange. We did lunch in Palermo, a boutique-filled and leafy neighbourhood, and traded notes on the city. Her program is quite serious about keeping its students safe - "I have a security debriefing at the US Embassy tomorrow," she said -so Lydia had lots of information on which taxi lines and neighbourhoods to avoid, as well as fun things to do. It was quite nice to catch up, as I hadn´t seen her in years. She used to think I lived at the Minneapolis airport, actually, as our mothers would always arrange to meet there when my family was in transit from the East Coast. Considering my lifestyle in the past few weeks, not much has changed!
After lunch, I wandered down to the Bosques de Palermo and the beautiful rose garden the city maintains there. It keeps the gardens beautiful by employing an abundance of blue-vested guards who blow their whistles at you bossily the instant your foot makes contact with the grass. Thus died my dream of sitting on a tree branch in a rose garden by a lake , though I found a bench that served pretty well. In the evening I was, once again, pretty tired from walking, so I didn´t go out at all. Lame, I know, but bear with me.
Wednesday I did the Microcentro, the busy downtown core. It has a central pedestrian mall called Florida which, like Sparks Street, is full of discount apparel stores and is under renovation. There is quite a lot of historical stuff around as well. I failed to infiltrate the Casa Rosada, the huge, ornate pink building housing the president´s offices, as it is (notice the theme) under renovation. I had more success at the Cabildo, the hall where the assembly to proclaim Argentina´s independence was held in (I believe) 1810. It is overlooked by more construction, unfortunately, but once the construction is over the central courtyard will be a very serene and beautiful place. On my way over to the Cabildo, I happened to stick my head into the church where Eva Peron´s funeral was held. It is in need of a bit of paint but it is very gorgeous. The main altarpiece was a painting in an unusual sort of style that I will call art nouveau, since I know nothing about architecture or design.
Resolved to experience Buenos Aires´ legendary nightlife, I took advantage of the free tickets my hostel was giving out to a big club called Museum, and took myself out dancing on Wednesday night. After one too many over-persistent come-ons from local guys, I decided not to be a lone antelope anymore and made friends with a group of three girls, two of whom spoke pretty good English and were eager to practice. It surprised me how much of the music was familiar from home - I guess a club is a club is a club. I was impressed with the crowd, though, and couldn´t believe such a cavernous space could be so packed on a Wednesday night. It was excellent.
Yesterday I did the Recoleta cemetery (more dead Eva Peron attractions!) and happened upon one of the only two English-language tours conducted by the cemetery staff every week. It was all quite fascinating, actually. The guide obviously had a lot of affection for the place and for the stories of the people in it, even the ones who are not especially notable in life. She has nicknamed one of the statues Brad Pitt, because women always ask about him, and told us the story of a nineteen-year-old girl named Rutina who was accidentally buried alive by her parents.
Last night I met up with an English couple my age, and we sat on the terrace at the hostel and chatted for a few hours - very pleasant! Today we´ve agreed to strike out together for Maradona´s house, the soccer stadium in La Boca. It is known as La Bombonera because it is apparently shaped like a gigantic chocolate box - sounds more appetizing than the Butterdome in Edmonton! This is also excellent because La Boca has a bit of a reputation, apart from the tourist areas, but now I have company and an authentic football fan to answer my stupid questions.
Photos to follow!
The next day I met up with Lydia, a friend of the family who is here on exchange, and her friend Erica, also on exchange. We did lunch in Palermo, a boutique-filled and leafy neighbourhood, and traded notes on the city. Her program is quite serious about keeping its students safe - "I have a security debriefing at the US Embassy tomorrow," she said -so Lydia had lots of information on which taxi lines and neighbourhoods to avoid, as well as fun things to do. It was quite nice to catch up, as I hadn´t seen her in years. She used to think I lived at the Minneapolis airport, actually, as our mothers would always arrange to meet there when my family was in transit from the East Coast. Considering my lifestyle in the past few weeks, not much has changed!
After lunch, I wandered down to the Bosques de Palermo and the beautiful rose garden the city maintains there. It keeps the gardens beautiful by employing an abundance of blue-vested guards who blow their whistles at you bossily the instant your foot makes contact with the grass. Thus died my dream of sitting on a tree branch in a rose garden by a lake , though I found a bench that served pretty well. In the evening I was, once again, pretty tired from walking, so I didn´t go out at all. Lame, I know, but bear with me.
Wednesday I did the Microcentro, the busy downtown core. It has a central pedestrian mall called Florida which, like Sparks Street, is full of discount apparel stores and is under renovation. There is quite a lot of historical stuff around as well. I failed to infiltrate the Casa Rosada, the huge, ornate pink building housing the president´s offices, as it is (notice the theme) under renovation. I had more success at the Cabildo, the hall where the assembly to proclaim Argentina´s independence was held in (I believe) 1810. It is overlooked by more construction, unfortunately, but once the construction is over the central courtyard will be a very serene and beautiful place. On my way over to the Cabildo, I happened to stick my head into the church where Eva Peron´s funeral was held. It is in need of a bit of paint but it is very gorgeous. The main altarpiece was a painting in an unusual sort of style that I will call art nouveau, since I know nothing about architecture or design.
Resolved to experience Buenos Aires´ legendary nightlife, I took advantage of the free tickets my hostel was giving out to a big club called Museum, and took myself out dancing on Wednesday night. After one too many over-persistent come-ons from local guys, I decided not to be a lone antelope anymore and made friends with a group of three girls, two of whom spoke pretty good English and were eager to practice. It surprised me how much of the music was familiar from home - I guess a club is a club is a club. I was impressed with the crowd, though, and couldn´t believe such a cavernous space could be so packed on a Wednesday night. It was excellent.
Yesterday I did the Recoleta cemetery (more dead Eva Peron attractions!) and happened upon one of the only two English-language tours conducted by the cemetery staff every week. It was all quite fascinating, actually. The guide obviously had a lot of affection for the place and for the stories of the people in it, even the ones who are not especially notable in life. She has nicknamed one of the statues Brad Pitt, because women always ask about him, and told us the story of a nineteen-year-old girl named Rutina who was accidentally buried alive by her parents.
Last night I met up with an English couple my age, and we sat on the terrace at the hostel and chatted for a few hours - very pleasant! Today we´ve agreed to strike out together for Maradona´s house, the soccer stadium in La Boca. It is known as La Bombonera because it is apparently shaped like a gigantic chocolate box - sounds more appetizing than the Butterdome in Edmonton! This is also excellent because La Boca has a bit of a reputation, apart from the tourist areas, but now I have company and an authentic football fan to answer my stupid questions.
Photos to follow!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Toronto Pronto
After Cuba, I flew to Toronto to spend Friday night and Saturday with Colleen at the aforementioned Home for Wayward Backpackers. Her rates are very reasonable - an optional donation of some kind of memorabilia from your destination. And she gives you delicious veggie chili and a place to hang your pack, as well as a guided tour of the St. Lawrence Market, home of amazing fresh vegetables and assorted specialty products. Vegetables and I had a wonderful reunion. 
We also had a little high school reunion, as our old friend Chris is in town studying photography at Ryerson. Colleen and I met up for drinks with him on Saturday night and it was great to sit and have a chat with both of these characters before re-planing for Buenos Aires the following morning.
We also had a little high school reunion, as our old friend Chris is in town studying photography at Ryerson. Colleen and I met up for drinks with him on Saturday night and it was great to sit and have a chat with both of these characters before re-planing for Buenos Aires the following morning.
Have A Cigar!
Wednesday was Kelly´s wedding. She´s been married for a whole week now, although it is non-ideal that she and Andres have to be separated right after the honeymoon. The next time they see each other, he´ll be in Canada! Anyway, it was a really nice affair. Weddings in Cuba apparently aren´t as big a deal as they are in Canada, so everything was a little more laid-back than the usual (evidence: the priest was an hour late and nobody really got mad). After a quick lunch out, a bunch of the girls went to Kelly´s parents´casa particular to help get her ready. Kayt and Rachael were on hair and makeup, while Christina, maid of honour Viv, and Sarah were in charge of steaming the dress. I didn´t have any particular duties so I was in charge of finding people´s camera battery chargers and such, and taking James Bond photos of all the dudes from Kelly´s family who had dressed up for the occasion.
Team Hair and Makeup
Post-garter shenanigans.
After that, everyone kicked back, smoked a Cohiba, and cut a rug. The Cuban contingent once again distinguished themselves on the dance floor, but the Canadians´enthusiasm during "Cotton Eye Joe" made me smile. Overall, a sterling event! I would go again, but they are probably only allowed to get married once.
Team Hair and MakeupTeam Dress.
This was just before we discovered that the bouquet had been put in the freezer by our hostess. The flowers wilted dramatically in a matter of minutes, but new ones were acquired.
This was just before we discovered that the bouquet had been put in the freezer by our hostess. The flowers wilted dramatically in a matter of minutes, but new ones were acquired.The ceremony was at a place called Club Almendares, in one of Havana´s leafier outlying areas. The venue was a stage behind a big old club built in what I, who know nothing about architecture, would call a hacienda style. It was open to the air and the temperature and ambience were very tropical , as one side of the venue abutted an absolute wall of greenery. The ceremony was all in Spanish, so I didn´t understand most of it, and fairly short. Kelly and Andres both just looked so happy throughout. Also, the best man, Andres´good friend and Kelly´s "Cuban brother" Pedro, was tearing up in a serious way. I don´t have many good photos from the ceremony because I specialize in getting awkward shots of people exiting hugs or wiping stuff off their shirts, but I did like the one below.
There was an extra-special moment for the buck-knife given to me by Katie´s ex-Army friend DJ, who is from Tennessee and insisted that no woman should travel without a knife. I will allow that I was sceptical at the time, but darn if that little knife didn´t get used almost every day on stray threads in shoes, or guavas, or coconuts at the beach. Its crowning moment was when it had the privilege of cutting Kelly and Andres´ wedding cake. This cake was coconut, I believe, and since I adore coconut it was probably the best wedding cake I have ever eaten.
There was an extra-special moment for the buck-knife given to me by Katie´s ex-Army friend DJ, who is from Tennessee and insisted that no woman should travel without a knife. I will allow that I was sceptical at the time, but darn if that little knife didn´t get used almost every day on stray threads in shoes, or guavas, or coconuts at the beach. Its crowning moment was when it had the privilege of cutting Kelly and Andres´ wedding cake. This cake was coconut, I believe, and since I adore coconut it was probably the best wedding cake I have ever eaten. Post-garter shenanigans. After that, everyone kicked back, smoked a Cohiba, and cut a rug. The Cuban contingent once again distinguished themselves on the dance floor, but the Canadians´enthusiasm during "Cotton Eye Joe" made me smile. Overall, a sterling event! I would go again, but they are probably only allowed to get married once.Saturday, February 21, 2009
Impressions of Cuba
"That's the biggest Jesus I've ever seen!" I exclaimed upon espying this, the largest Jesus I have ever seen.
The stairs to the laundry area-cum-balcony at our casa particular, and the courtyard below. These casas are private homes with permits to rent rooms as a source of additional income - they are basically little B&Bs.
The view from inside a Coco-Taxi.
The view from outside a Coco-Taxi. It is basically a motorcycle with a giant's helmet affixed, so as to create a mode of transport blending minimal speed and safety with maximal fun.
In a conversation with my sister, I just told her that aside from the food you eat and the air you breathe, Havana is great. But that's not entirely fair: that comment makes it sound as though I liked it far less than I did. It's not a perfect city, but hey, name one that is. The bad part is that a lot of people seem to be only just getting by, not getting the resources to improve their surroundings and prospects. The buildings outside of the old town (Habana Vieja) are mostly a little on the dilapidated side, and some are just outright falling down. While there wasn't any really abject poverty that I saw, although some Cubans do have cars that are, suspiciously, a lot newer and nicer-looking than the general fleet's quality. In fact, the two things that bothered me most are the aforementioned food and air. In a tropical country, you might expect markets ought to be overflowing with vegetables and fruit at all times of the year. In Havana, I saw exactly five varieties of fruit and veg: onions, tomatoes, green peppers, cabbage, and guavas. It might have been the bad hurricane season, but that still seems odd. The other problem is that the city's famed antique cars are pretty bad on the ol' tailpipe emissions, conditions not ideal for this asthmatic.
On the other hand, it's an amazing city - a look at a completely different way of life, at once richer and poorer than the way people live in North American cities. For that reason, I was very glad to have stayed in Vedado in Havana proper, rather than out of town at one of the beaches. I had never really considered all the things a person can live without: toilet seats, for instance, aren't a popular feature even on perfectly functional indoor toilets. And man, do people know how to enjoy music. A bunch of the other Canuck wedding guests and I dropped in on the final night of the Jazz Festival to see Los Van Van play, and it was sensational (albeit hard to photograph). The populace has also not had the opportunity to rot its collective brain on video games, with the result that I got demolished at chess by a 16-year-old.
All of this sight-seeing only happened at all due to Kelly's wedding to Andres (there is an accent on the e, but I can't get it to appear just here). That happy event is to appear in the next post, but I probably won't write that until Buenos Aires! See you on the other side of the equator.
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