Buenos Aires-More than just the "Paris" of South America

It was late in 2004 and early in 2005 that Annie and I first thought of living somewhere other than the United States.  Nothing against the land of the free and the home of the brave, we have just had a serious case of wanderlust for quite some time.  Our kids were just about to turn five, and we'd been living in Madeira for almost five years, so we hadn't met many other Madeira parents as is the case when your kids get involved in school and sports once they hit six or seven.  I did some research on the best places for ex-pats and at the top of the list:  Buenos Aires, Argentina.  It took us about eight years to get there but we finally did.

When planning our South American portion of our trip, Buenos Aires was pretty much the only definite destination we had on that continent.  The most common description of Buenos Aires is that it's the Paris of South America.  We definitely felt some of that almost immediately upon our arrival.

It didn't take us long to see evidence of the European influence in the architecture of Buenos Aires.  We were staying in the fairly well-known area of Recoleta, which supposedly has the best example of French architecture of any area of the city.

Buenos Aires street near our apartment

Buenos Aires is a large cosmopolitan city, with a strong European vibe thanks to the many wide boulevards and plazas shaded by sycamore trees and palm trees.  It's a great look that I highly recommend for more cities.  Like Cincinnati for example.  Let's take advantage of this opportunity and plant some palm trees around the Banks.  It would be like we were somewhere else, and isn't that what we all really want in Cincinnati?

Buenos Aires is a very walkable city, and we did plenty of that during our week there.  The weather was spectacular, with low humidity and comfortable temperatures as spring started to be nudged aside by summer.  It gave Annie the chance to take some beautiful photos.

Springtime in Buenos Aires

The beauty of Buenos Aires was in full bloom as we strolled along Avenida Presidente Figueroa Alcorta, close to where it intersects with Brigadier General Juan Facundo Quiroga.  You see a lot of streets in South America named after political figures, including their entire names, as well as military heroes, using their entire names as well.  There are also a lot of streets named after significant dates in South American history.  We saw that trend first in Cuenca Ecuador as we frequently walked down Avenida 3 de Noviembre, and it continued in Buenos Aires as we took a taxi along Avenida 9 de Julio.  

7/9 Avenue as it might be called in the States, is a magnificent, sprawling boulevard that is home to a giant obelisk in the heart of town.  The comparisons that have been made to the Champs Elysees in Paris are valid, as both are the carotid artery of the cities they call home.  I couldn't take a photo to do justice to the splendor of the avenue, so I borrowed one from the internet.  Thanks World Wide Web!  And of course, Al Gore!

Avenida 9 De Julio at dusk

It's really something to see, especially at night, which we did once by taxi.  As much as Buenos Aires definitely has a European feel at times, Annie and I both thought it also felt a lot like New York City.  The area where we stayed, Recoleta, definitely felt like one of the great residential areas of Manhattan, like those around Soho or Midtown.  Cafes and shops crowd the shady sidewalks, as pedestrians stroll by and occasionally duck into one of the establishments, freeing up much-needed space on the pavement for other peatones. 

Just to the right of the obelisk in the photo above are some pedestrian walkways, which are a pleasure to take in.  The Argentinians are well-known for their ravenous love of meat, and it was hard to walk very far without seeing a parilla. 
Parillas are basically steakhouses which served up all kinds of grilled meat, including lamb, pork and chicken.

One of the many Parrillas in Buenos Aires

The walkway definitely echoed some of the places we had visited earlier on the trip, especially some cities in Europe.  The atmosphere was very enjoyable and part of it was not feeling like outsiders, as we had in Cuenca, where it was clear that you were either a local or a Gringo. 

Strolling down Calle Lavalle

One of the major attractions that was within walking distance of our cozy apartment was the Recoleta Cemetery.  It covers 14 acres, with almost 4700 graves (all above ground), 94 of which are notable enough to be protected by the government.  Annie's a bit whacky for cemeteries and we've seen our share in the course of the past 11 months.  This one, however, was probably the most impressive we've visited.

The place is fascinating and overwhelming at the same time.  Row after row of crypts stretch out, seemingly without end, each carrying the story of the person or persons interred there.

Crypts at Recoleta Cemetery

It's extremely tempting to stop and study each of the thousands of monuments, many of which have elaborate carvings on them. Of course, if you actually did that, you would probably be there long enough to qualify for your own eye-catching crypt.

Too many to take in!

The most notable person interred there is the former Argentinian First Lady, Eva Peron, or Evita as she is known and celebrated among the locals.  It took us a while to find her gravesite, as there are no signs pointing it out.  A quick question of a security guard at the cemetery didn't provide much help, but we found some other people from the US who pointed us in the right direction.

The resting place of Evita

As graves of famous people go, it's a pretty humble presentation.  I personally had to fight back the urge to break out some mad dance moves and sing "Material Girl" or "Get Into the Groove" in honor of Madonna who of course starred in Evita and apparently did a pretty good job in the title role.  But we have always had a policy of not ticking off the dead, because that's one group you don't want angry at you.

Two events on the late November calendar would have us feeling a little homesick during our stay in Buenos Aires.  The Thursday we were there happened to be Thanksgiving.  A little research online showed a couple of places that served a traditional turkey dinner targeting ex-pats on Thanksgiving.  One was a pub within walking distance of our apartment that had gotten good reviews for its Turkey Day offerings over the past three or four years.  Another was a restaurant named Kansas that had three locations in Buenos Aires, all requiring a taxi cab ride, so I dialed up the pub first.

The woman who answered the phone at the pub didn't speak any English, and my Spanish was so pathetic she quickly handed the phone over to the owner.  He was a very friendly man from the States who explained that we were welcome to come by, but he was done with the Thanksgiving Dinner plan.  He said that inflation had gotten so out of hand that it just didn't make any financial sense to take a big loss, so after four years, he was keeping the turkey and gravy in the fridge and putting the green bean casserole away for good.

That pretty much made the decision for our plans for the day.  I called the closest of the three Kansas locations and asked if they were doing a Thanksgiving dinner, and the woman speaking in Spanish, assured me they were.  She also assured me that yes, they would be showing futbol Americano.

A cab ride of about 20 minutes had us in front of the Kansas restaurant, which was a sprawling, North American-looking establishment.  It was almost three pm local time, but we were able to be seated right away in one of the last remaining booths.  The only problem was that it was immediately clear we weren't going to be seeing any futbol Americano because there was only one TV in the place, and it was at the bar on the other side of the restaurant and it was showing futbol sud americano.  Goofy kickball!  Use your thumbs, pick it up already!

Thanksgiving menu at Kansas

The restaurant did live up to one of the two promises made to me on the phone as they were, indeed, serving up a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.  It was a little pricey and we could see from other diners' tables that the portions were pretty big, so among us only Annie ordered the turkey.  (The price you see at the bottom of the menu in the picture above is in Argentinian Pesos, not US Dollars, so it was about $25 US.)

Turkey dinner in Buenos Aires

I had a decent steak, Ben ordered the ribs and Marley of course had a plate of pasta.  It wasn't quite the experience we were looking for, but we still enjoyed it as a family.  And that's what Thanksgiving is all about, right?  We managed to do an on-camera Facebook chat later that day with Annie's family gathered for the holiday, so that helped douse some of the homesickness we felt.

Two days later, we searched out another ex-pat spot in Buenos Aires, a "resto-bar" called Shoeless Joe's Alamo.  It was one of two places in BA that advertised showing NFL football on Sundays, so we figured it was a pretty good bet they would be showing a fairly important NCAA college football game on a Saturday afternoon.  Not just any game mind you, but The Game.

I was raised a Buckeyes football fan by my parents, neither of whom went to Ohio State but lived in Ohio most of their lives.  My dad was a big Reds, Bengals and Buckeyes fan like I have become, and my mom liked the fact that Dad and I shared our love of sports together. ("Hey.....Dad....ya wanna have a catch?") When Dad and I  watched our favorite teams on TV togerther, Mom would usually be somewhere close by watching passively. Even with all those hours of televised sports, the only time I ever saw her get upset was when something bad happened to the Buckeyes football team.  A good example is when they lost to Jim Plunkett and Stanford in the Rose Bowl in 1971, costing them a chance at the national title.  Seeing my mom upset about the Buckeyes losing, after not having much emotion in reaction to the Bengals playoff loss to the Colts just a week earlier and the Reds loss to the Orioles in the World Series a couple of months before that had a big impact on me.  It embedded in me the distinct impression that would stay with me for the rest of my life:  According to my mom, there's Buckeyes football and there's EVERYTHING ELSE.

Allow me to digress for just one more paragraph, I promise!  Imagine how great that was for me as a 9-year old boy, my first year seriously following sports about 12 months after we had moved to Cincinnati from Youngstown.  My baseball team makes it to the World Series, my pro football team wins its' final seven games to make the playoffs in only their third year in existence, (at the time, the fastest any expansion team had made the post-season), and my college football team goes undefeated in the regular season and plays for the National Title.  What a horrid sports childhood I would have had if we hadn't moved from Youngstown, as I would have been rooting for the Indians (one of the worst teams in baseball in the 70s while the Reds had the best record in all of baseball for that decade) and the Browns.  Ugh.  At least we still would have had the Buckeyes.  O-H!!

So all those memories and electrical impulses are surging through and around my brain as we walk toward El Alamo.  As we get there, we see three or four guys standing outside smoking cigarettes, the majority of which are wearing that awful maize and blue color combination.  They seemed harmless enough, so I approached them and said, pointing toward their shirts and nodding toward the bar "Is everyone inside wearing this, or will I find some Scarlet and Gray in there?"  They laughed and a guy just emerging from El Alamo was wearing the OSU colors and said, "There's plenty more of this inside!"

Wolverine fans at El Alamo

It was pretty much a fifty/fifty split between UM and OSU fans inside and there was some good-natured ribbing going on as the game went back and forth.  The Game came down to the fourth quarter and the Bucks made enough key plays to hold on for a glorious 26-21 victory, completing a perfect 12-0 season, much to the delight of the Buckeye contingent at El Alamo.

12-0!

You can argue until you're maize and blue in the face that the perfect season is diminished by the Buckeyes probationary status, but Urban Meyer and his players couldn't control any of that.  All they could do was line up and play every team on the schedule, which they did finishing each game with a win.  To complete a perfect season with a win over Michigan made it all the more special, and for my family of Buckeye fans, including my wife-an OSU grad, it was a result that would ensure that we would always remember El Alamo.  And Buenos Aires.

  

Ecuador

After three weeks back home in Cincinnati, it was pretty weird to be packing up and hitting the road again.  The time we spent at our house provided us with a great sense of familiarity, which we soaked up after ten months of staying in more than one hundred different places in 24 countries.  The familiar became exotic for us, as we got to see family and friends and places we had missed in more than 300 days on the road.  The challenge of routine everyday activities was gone, replaced by a welcoming ease of language and setting, which was very relaxing.  Now, it was time to leave that comfort level behind and dive back into the daily experience of living with a different language and culture.

Travel is enticing, however, and it took less than 24 hours for the thrill of the road to get us in its grips once again.  Our first stop was Quito, Ecuador.  We were on our way to a house-sitting assignment for 20 days in Cuenca, a 45-minute plane ride from Quito.  Our flight arrived in Quito at ten at night, so we booked a hotel for the night and would head for Cuenca the next day.  The Hotel Antinea was adorable, with great architecture and a welcoming feel, that started right in the cozy lobby.

My expectation upon traveling after being home for three weeks was that I wouldn't want to be living in unfamiliar surroundings and getting clothes out of a suitcase each day once again.  But those feelings faded away,  replaced by the sense of adventure of communicating with people in a different land and also by the sense of unity that we felt as a family.  Our ten months on the road from December of 2011 until early October of 2012 had created an unspoken bond that we all felt, even as we were seated apart on the flight from Atlanta to Quito.  It's what we'd done for almost a year now, and we really enjoyed it.

One of the more enjoyable parts of the trip was landing house sitting gigs.  We got the twenty-day house sitting job in Cuenca through trustedhousesitters.com, the site we used to take care of 5 labradoodle puppies in France back in July.  Our quality care of the property and pets there resulted in getting a glowing reference from that homeowner and paved the way for our next job through that website.

When we saw the listing for the house sitting job in Ecuador, we were immediately intrigued.  It was from a couple in a condo who needed someone to take care of their two older cats, plus it also featured Direct TV and wireless internet.  As much as we like to experience the local culture, it's also a nice perk to be able to have a bit of a taste of home, so the satellite TV and internet helped trigger our applying for the job.

Kathy and Maik, the cat owners and condo people, were originally uneasy about the whole house sitting concept, but Annie exchanged a couple of messages through the website and convinced them to do a video chat session to try to help seal the deal.  We chatted for about 15 minutes with them while we were in South Africa, and agreed to head to Cuenca at the start of the South American phase of the trip.

After a comfortable night in Quito, we headed for Cuenca on a Wednesday afternoon.  A 45-minute flight landed us in the capital of the Azuay province of Ecuador in the southern highlands of the small nation on the western coast of South America. It's nestled among the sierra of the Andes mountains, with an altitude of about 8200 feet, or roughly three thousand feet higher than Denver. 

The condo where we lived with Whiskers and Spirit was part of a multi-family building on the western edge of town.  On the ground floor of the complex were some shops, including a hair dresser, fish place, a couple of clothing shops and a mini-market.  There was only one woman who worked there the entire duration of our stay, and her name was, predictably enough, Maria.   She spoke exactly no English, but we had a great time chatting with her during our nearly daily visits to her shop.  It was a fun experience to converse with her in our "gorilla" Spanish and her patient toddler-level Spanish. (Me in Spanish: "Me like eat food.  Me like Cuenca and those beer!" Her:  Esta Bien!") 

One of the more appealing aspects of life in Cuenca is the large ex-pat population.  Cuenca is considered one of the top spots for foreigners in all of South America.  It's a city of about 500,000 people and the locals are friendly to gringos, plus there is a very well-organized gringo culture that meshes well with the Cuencanos.  Annie signed up for a daily email from a service called the Gringo Tree, which contains a handful of notices about activities in the community, along with a classified ad or two, sort of a Craigslist type of thing.

Taxis are very affordable, costing only about $2 to get into the center of town, but most of the time we headed into Cuenca, we chose to walk.  With no major hills in the way, the stroll was fairly easy.  We made that walk pretty much every day at least one way.  Three times a week, we took Spanish lessons at a bookstore in town where the people we are house sitting for took lessons and we slid into their two-hour spot while they were back home in Chicago.  

Maria Elena, our instructor, was very patient with us, especially with Ben and Marley.  Annie and I had some lingering Spanish knowledge tucked back in the distant recesses of what's left of our brains and some of that actually bubbled back to life.  The kids caught on reasonably quickly, and it was fun to put our limited but increasing knowledge of Spanish to use on the streets and in shops and restaurants.

We also put it to use during our second week in Cuenca, during the tres dias de fiestas the city was having as part of it's Independence Day Celebrations.  Vendors were selling a wide variety of wares in tents set up in locations all across the city.  Annie jumped on the chance to buy some alpaca blankets at a good price but most of the time we just tent-shopped, enjoying being among the crowds who filled the city from all around Ecuador.  

One of the highlights of the three days of celebrations was a parade held on the middle day, which we watched from the central square in town, Calderon.  The parade participants included a wide variety, with some sporting wild outfits and putting on a brief performance in front of the reviewing stand just to our left.

My favorite was some girls dressed in indigenous outfits who danced their way down the street.

The parade and festival were great ways for us to really get into the local culture as well as feel tall.  One thing that really stood out as we walked around the streets of Cuenca for almost three weeks was how much taller we were than most of the locals.  Gotta admit, that at the height of 5'8", I enjoyed that aspect of life in Ecuador.

Annie's daily email from the Daily Gringo updated us on the events that were happening in Cuenca, especially those targeted at Gringos such as us.  Various restaurants had "gringo" nights during the week, and we checked a few of those out during our stay.  One of the first we tried was a bit of a dud, as the food wasn't very good and the prices were high.  Plus, at the table next to us, what looked to be a first date was going on. They both looked to be in their 60s, with the woman at the table talking quite loudly, and the man trying to act patient while at the same time having a look on his face like he couldn't wait to get out of there.  Then at the end of their evening at the restaurant, he whipped out some dental floss and started digging into his teeth like he was starving and wanted every last morsel of food wedged between his pearly whites.  I don't know if he did that to try to make sure that he would never have to sit through a dinner with this woman again or not.  Turns out that we ran into him a few other times around town in our three weeks there, and he chatted us up once at lunch and turned out to be a very nice guy.  He was a Texan who had just moved to Cuenca a few months before.   As we were wrapping up our meal that day, I was tempted to ask him if he had any dental floss that I could use, but I managed to restrain myself.  

A more enjoyable Gringo night was our second Friday night there when a cute restaurant where we had breakfast once early in our stay was having a Mexican night.  That's one food group that we all enjoy, so we got in a cab and told the driver where we wanted to go and he headed in that direction.  As we got to where the restaurant was, I wanted to say something along the lines of "here is fine" which in gorilla Spanish would have been "aqui is bien" but instead I gestured and said "Estoy aqui!", which is "I am here!" I realized my mistake and tried to correct myself, much to the amusement of the driver and my family.  

Another popular gringo hangout that appealed to us was at a place called the Inca Lounge.  On Sundays, they showed NFL football games.  We stopped in there three of the four Sundays we spent in Cuenca, making some new friends and enjoying hearing from people who had decided to take the plunge and move from the U.S. to Ecuador.  It was a fun atmosphere, and one of the best things was that we only saw one Steelers fan our entire time there.

One of our inspirations for this trip is Anthony Bourdain and his TV show, No Reservations.  He has one of the best gigs in the business as he travels the world, going to locations of his choosing and eating the local food and drinking the local drinks.  His show has been an influence on some of the locations we have picked, especially San Sebastian, Spain.  In his shows, he frequently has what he calls a local "fixer."  That's someone who can guide him to some unique places to go and help him avoid unsavory spots.  We had a fixer in Cuenca:  Gladys the cleaning lady.

Gladys worked for Kathy and Maik, the Chicagoans we were house-sitting for.  She comes in once a week and cleans their condo and does a great job.  She also speaks pretty good English, it's certainly better than our Spanish.  We got to know her a bit and talked to her some and she offered to take us to some Inca ruins about two hours outside of Cuenca called Ingapirca.  She had just gotten a new car and was excited to take us for a drive in it.  She even said she knew of some places to get cuy (pronounced coo-ee), the local delicacy better known north of the border as guinea pig.  We'd seen Anthony Bourdain eat some cuy in one of his shows and he seemed to enjoy it, so we just had to give it a try.

The first two-thirds of the drive were on a nicely maintained highway, called an Autopista.  Gladys was an excellent driver and we enjoyed the smooth ride.  Things got a little bumpier once we took the turn-off at the decrepit sign that pointed in the direction of Ingapirca.  There were as many potholes as there were turns on this winding road, and Gladys did a fearless job of guiding her new Chevy Sail around the suspension-bending obstacles while somehow not losing any of that new car smell.  

Ingapirca is well known among the locals, apparently so well known that the government decided there was no need to put up signs saying, "hey gringo, Ingapirca this away!"  Gladys patiently stopped and asked directions from time to time.  At least that's what we thought she was asking.  She could have been saying, "hey, I've got a carload of gringos, and they must be loaded!  They've been traveling the world for almost a year, and you should see all the Apple devices in the condo they're staying in.  I think their last names must really be Jobs, can you help me find some people to tie them up?"  Okay, maybe she wasn't saying that, or maybe she couldn't find anyone to help carry out her evil plans.  Whatever the real story is, we made it safely to the ruins, which are supposedly the best-preserved pre-Spanish Inca ruins in Ecuador.  

The ancient walls and pathways at Ingapirca aren't exactly Macchu Picchu, but they were impressive nonetheless.   The complex was originally built by the local people called the Canaris, and the Incas came along and did something that rarely happens when two differing groups of people collide:  they co-existed peacefully.  The Incas adopted some of the Canaris traditions, while the Canaris accepted some of the ideas and customs that the Incas brought with them.  What a concept!

After about forty-five minutes or so, we had seen enough ruins and were ready to check out a couple of restaurants open near the entrance that we had spotted on the way in.  But before we could get to those, we noticed a small one-story white building with some tables out front and a sign listing some food offerings. 

At the top of the list: cuy!  Turns out one of the little buggers is enough to feed three people, so we knew that would be just right for Annie, Gladys and me.

The restaurant was run by an indigenous woman who was very friendly, and served up a local cheese that Marley had grown fond of, while frying up a fish that Ben just loved.  

As for the guinea pig, Annie liked it, probably more for the experience than the actual taste.  Gladys happily took the head of the guinea pig saying that was her favorite part, including the brain. 

For me, the effort it took to get what little meat there was off the bones was not quite worth it.  It tasted a little gamey to me.  I can eat chicken until the cows come home mooing your praises for not eating them.  I like big juicy hunks of animal flesh, not little slivers.  Still it was a great experience, and a testament to having the services of a local fixer.  

The route back to Cuenca happened to go through the home town of Gladys, Canar.  She was very proud of her birthplace, and even stopped to show us her adorable grand daughter.  

It was a display of grandmotherly love that needed no translation.

Another discovery we made in Ecuador is that Cuenca is actually the birthplace of the Panama hat.  The hats, which are hand-woven, gained popularity in the late 1800s and early 1900s.  They were shipped to other parts of the world through the isthmus of Panama and since that's where they were first purchased they became known as Panama hats.  Stores, or tiendas, all across Cuenca sell the hats, but we decided to go directly to the source:  The Panama Hat Museum.   Inside were tables filled with Panama hats of all shapes and sizes, and they would take special orders for the regular retail price of $25.  I actually had to get an XXL for my big American noggin and Marley got an XL in a very pretty purple.  We picked them up the next day and had fun wearing them around town, while also enjoying their protective nature from the equatorial sun.

Our Spanish instructor Maria Elena wound up being a great resource for us on life in Ecuador.  She was very enthusiastic about showing us and the kids how the locals lived.  One Saturday, she took Ben and Marley on a half-day field trip to a couple of small towns outside of Cuenca.  Marley bought a beautiful locally made guitar for a fraction of what a similar guitar would cost in the States.  Our daughter looked adorable with the guitar strap over her shoulder, like she was ready to hit the streets and do some busking to help us afford to get back home.  

On our final Saturday in Cuenca, we got together with Maria Elena and her two children at what had become our favorite restaurant in Ecuador.

Chitople featured some great burritos and tacos and quesadillas, with fresh ingredients and a fun atmosphere.  It was great to see Maria Elena with her children, who were very well-behaved, especially considering we took about two hours to eat lunch.  

As has been the case with so many of our stops in more than two dozen countries, our best memories of Ecuador will be the people we met along the way. 

I came across a quote in the beginning of a book called Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann that sums it up pretty well.  It is attributed to Aleksandar Hemon in The Lazarus Project who wrote:  "All the lives we could live, all the people we will never know, never will be, they are everywhere.  That is what the world is."