I don´t get the French
They sure do love to seem staging revolutions, but they just don´t like change, huh? First they were mad because there weren´t any jobs for the young and disprivledged. Now they´re mad because they don´t like the solution to that problem that their government came up with.
There is a 23% unemployment rate in France among the youth, which of course disproportionally affects the immigrant communities. So their governments suggested legislation that would ease employment requirements on young workers which seems on the surface to be a well designed solution. One way to battle underemployment is to reduce the cost of employing someone. Simply making a downward shift in the supply curve.
The young French, of course, seem to find this solution more than a little distasteful. They´d rather just live in their little world of make believe where everyone has a job for life and it pays great and they can all sit around and drink café and eat éclairs and smoke cigarettes.
The silly Frenchmen don´t seem to realize that they live in the 21st century, whether they like it or not. And whether or not they like it they have to complete in the world marketplace, where labor everywhere else in the world is cheap and productive. And it is economical to ship goods and services from one part of the globe to another. The other alternative is to allow their economy to continue to stagnate basically as it´s been doing for the last 20 years.
I guess this was the same country that thought that they could protect themselves from the Nazi´s by building a concrete barrier around their border. I guess it never occurred to them that it was possible to just go around instead of right through the middle. That same mentality seems to permeate the French collective unconscious today. Best of luck with that…I´ll be waiting to see how that works out for you.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Democracy is the worst form of government that exists
How’s the rest of that quote go? Oh yeah, besides all of the others. One need only look at the recent elections in Palestine and Israel to confirm that sentiment. The world was shocked to learn that the Palestinians had elected a terrorist group to majority in Parliament. And now the world is confused by what the Israeli populace is saying with the results from yesterday’s elections.
Of course you could really argue that we aren’t talking about a true democracy in either case. Last time I checked when a nation maintains different rights for its citizens depending on their ethnicity we call that an apartheid regime, not a democracy. And the same holds true for an “authority” which is as corrupt as any government in the world has ever been.
Personally I found the most shocking thing about Hamas’ recent ascension to political power was the fact that it took so long. While the rest of the world looks at Hamas as simply a terrorist organization the truth is, as usual, more complicated than that. Hamas has always been incredibly popular among the Palestinian people. They have been providing much needed social services, schools and medical aid to the Palestinians people for years. They accomplished things that the Palestinian Authority was either too corrupt or too incompetent to achieve. And when you’re a group that has been shit on worse than any other in the world for the last 50 years or so, you’re grateful to anyone who is one your side. And of course Hamas embodies the struggle against the much hated “Zionist occupiers” as they like to call them. Oh yeah, and they convince young Palestinian men to strap explosives to their chest, walk into crowded Israeli areas and blow everyone they can to pieces.
But when Israel decided to marginalize Yasser Arafat they played into the hands of Hamas. Most people speak of the Palestinians as if they are on homogenous group with one clear mindset and focused set of goals. As a reformed Muslim I can tell you if there is anything Muslim’s are not, it’s organized, either politically or socially.
Believe it or not, Yasser Arafat and the PA represented the moderate wing of the Palestinian viewpoint. The extremists, yeah that’s Hamas. Mahmoud Abbas, Arafat’s interim successor, never really seemed to resonate within among the Palestinian people. He was always seen as the handpicked choice of the Israeli’s and the US and only present because those powers had decided that Arafat was no longer a partner in the peace process and not worth negotiating with. There was only one group capable of filling the power vacuum once Arafat finally died, and that’s what we see today. It could have been the moderates, but not once they proved to be useless.
The truth is this was all a forgone conclusion much earlier than that. Yitzhak Rabin’s murder in 1995 should go down in history as the most successful political assassination since Archduke Francis Ferdinand was killed by a Serbian nationalist and the world plunged into war for the first time. Looking back from our vantage point it’s clear that the peace process died with Rabin, and I guess that was the point.
Afterwards the Israeli populace could never seem to decide if they wanted to make peace or wage war. Every election swung from one political extreme to another. Bill Clinton, Ehud Barak and Yasser Arafat did come awfully close to accomplishing something magical in Camp David, but not as close as some would like to believe. The media likes to say that Arafat walked away from 97% of what he was asking for. They of course neglect to mention that the 3% included Jerusalem and the Temple Mount as well as the fact that the Palestinian “Right to Return” was a non-starter with Ehud Barak. But Arafat never could make that final step, he was able to recognize the state of Israel, but never cement his place in history by making a lasting peace.
But in retrospect, now that Israel has decided to unilaterally draw it’s own borders, the Palestinians will get less, much less. And since the al-Aqsa Intifadah started the Palestinians have found a way to counter the deplorable treatment they’ve been receiving that attracts the attention of the world. When it was just a bunch of Palestinian kids throwing rocks at tanks no one seemed to care too much about their struggle, but once they started turning themselves into human bombs and terrorizing their occupiers everyone took notice.
Palestinians of course look at this as the height of hypocrisy. Of course Hamas is a terrorist group, but there is no definition of terrorism that you could manage to write that wouldn’t also include the Israeli government. They are in violation of more UN Security Council Resolutions than Iraq ever was, and it’s only because the US exercises it’s veto power constantly in their favor that they haven’t been declared a terrorist nation. When they launch missiles into civilian neighborhoods because they know a certain “high value targets” are in the area and civilians die, they call it collateral damage. When Hamas sends suicide bombers to blow up civilians its terrorism. What’s the difference again? The rule of law stop being applied a long time ago.
This of course makes the moral high-ground position of Israel and the US that they don’t negotiate with terrorists all the more absurd. Who else are you going to negotiate with? They’re the ones you’re at war with, if you want peace of course you have to negotiate with them. If they stopped being terrorists, there’d be nothing left to negotiate. It’s the only card they have to play and they’re not going to stop until they have something worth stopping for.
There’s so much blame to pass around in all of this I don’t know where to even start. And that’s sad for me because I’ve learned I really like blaming people. But I think the British are a good a place as any to begin. Yeah the Holocaust was terrible, but did you really think the people that we now refer to as Palestinians would be ok with being kicked out of their land? Stupid Balfour Declaration.
And what about all the other Arab nations? Why couldn’t you just have taken in the Palestinian people when they became homeless? Then they wouldn’t have had to live in tents for the last 50 years and maybe they wouldn’t be so pissed off. Come on, you have lots of land and money, help a brother out. But no it was more politically expedient to have the Palestinians living in squalor and misery so you’d have a card to play against Israel.
Or maybe it was Abraham’s fault. You just have written a clear and concise will. The people of my son Isaac get this side of the yard and the people of my son Ishmael get this side. See, no more bickering. Now go and play nice.
Really like everything else, it’s God’s fault. Chosen people, huh? Holy Land, eh? Milk and honey, you say? That all seems to have turned out to be a great idea. I’m still trying to imagine there’s no religion, I hear it’s easy if you try.
Maybe by some miracle Ehud Ohlmert and Ismail Haniya can find a way to work together for peace despite all their rhetoric to the contrary. Who knows, Nixon did go to China after all. But I don’t think that’s where the smart money is at. So for the foreseeable future Palestinians will be killing Israelis and Israelis will be killing Palestinians. And one day I’ll have to explain to my kids why these two groups of people hate each other. And that truly breaks my heart.
As much as it pains me to say it, I think my friend Scott might have the right idea. We should just nuke the whole Middle East and turn it into one big glass parking lot. You can still drill through that stuff and it’ll be so much easier to find the oil that way
How’s the rest of that quote go? Oh yeah, besides all of the others. One need only look at the recent elections in Palestine and Israel to confirm that sentiment. The world was shocked to learn that the Palestinians had elected a terrorist group to majority in Parliament. And now the world is confused by what the Israeli populace is saying with the results from yesterday’s elections.
Of course you could really argue that we aren’t talking about a true democracy in either case. Last time I checked when a nation maintains different rights for its citizens depending on their ethnicity we call that an apartheid regime, not a democracy. And the same holds true for an “authority” which is as corrupt as any government in the world has ever been.
Personally I found the most shocking thing about Hamas’ recent ascension to political power was the fact that it took so long. While the rest of the world looks at Hamas as simply a terrorist organization the truth is, as usual, more complicated than that. Hamas has always been incredibly popular among the Palestinian people. They have been providing much needed social services, schools and medical aid to the Palestinians people for years. They accomplished things that the Palestinian Authority was either too corrupt or too incompetent to achieve. And when you’re a group that has been shit on worse than any other in the world for the last 50 years or so, you’re grateful to anyone who is one your side. And of course Hamas embodies the struggle against the much hated “Zionist occupiers” as they like to call them. Oh yeah, and they convince young Palestinian men to strap explosives to their chest, walk into crowded Israeli areas and blow everyone they can to pieces.
But when Israel decided to marginalize Yasser Arafat they played into the hands of Hamas. Most people speak of the Palestinians as if they are on homogenous group with one clear mindset and focused set of goals. As a reformed Muslim I can tell you if there is anything Muslim’s are not, it’s organized, either politically or socially.
Believe it or not, Yasser Arafat and the PA represented the moderate wing of the Palestinian viewpoint. The extremists, yeah that’s Hamas. Mahmoud Abbas, Arafat’s interim successor, never really seemed to resonate within among the Palestinian people. He was always seen as the handpicked choice of the Israeli’s and the US and only present because those powers had decided that Arafat was no longer a partner in the peace process and not worth negotiating with. There was only one group capable of filling the power vacuum once Arafat finally died, and that’s what we see today. It could have been the moderates, but not once they proved to be useless.
The truth is this was all a forgone conclusion much earlier than that. Yitzhak Rabin’s murder in 1995 should go down in history as the most successful political assassination since Archduke Francis Ferdinand was killed by a Serbian nationalist and the world plunged into war for the first time. Looking back from our vantage point it’s clear that the peace process died with Rabin, and I guess that was the point.
Afterwards the Israeli populace could never seem to decide if they wanted to make peace or wage war. Every election swung from one political extreme to another. Bill Clinton, Ehud Barak and Yasser Arafat did come awfully close to accomplishing something magical in Camp David, but not as close as some would like to believe. The media likes to say that Arafat walked away from 97% of what he was asking for. They of course neglect to mention that the 3% included Jerusalem and the Temple Mount as well as the fact that the Palestinian “Right to Return” was a non-starter with Ehud Barak. But Arafat never could make that final step, he was able to recognize the state of Israel, but never cement his place in history by making a lasting peace.
But in retrospect, now that Israel has decided to unilaterally draw it’s own borders, the Palestinians will get less, much less. And since the al-Aqsa Intifadah started the Palestinians have found a way to counter the deplorable treatment they’ve been receiving that attracts the attention of the world. When it was just a bunch of Palestinian kids throwing rocks at tanks no one seemed to care too much about their struggle, but once they started turning themselves into human bombs and terrorizing their occupiers everyone took notice.
Palestinians of course look at this as the height of hypocrisy. Of course Hamas is a terrorist group, but there is no definition of terrorism that you could manage to write that wouldn’t also include the Israeli government. They are in violation of more UN Security Council Resolutions than Iraq ever was, and it’s only because the US exercises it’s veto power constantly in their favor that they haven’t been declared a terrorist nation. When they launch missiles into civilian neighborhoods because they know a certain “high value targets” are in the area and civilians die, they call it collateral damage. When Hamas sends suicide bombers to blow up civilians its terrorism. What’s the difference again? The rule of law stop being applied a long time ago.
This of course makes the moral high-ground position of Israel and the US that they don’t negotiate with terrorists all the more absurd. Who else are you going to negotiate with? They’re the ones you’re at war with, if you want peace of course you have to negotiate with them. If they stopped being terrorists, there’d be nothing left to negotiate. It’s the only card they have to play and they’re not going to stop until they have something worth stopping for.
There’s so much blame to pass around in all of this I don’t know where to even start. And that’s sad for me because I’ve learned I really like blaming people. But I think the British are a good a place as any to begin. Yeah the Holocaust was terrible, but did you really think the people that we now refer to as Palestinians would be ok with being kicked out of their land? Stupid Balfour Declaration.
And what about all the other Arab nations? Why couldn’t you just have taken in the Palestinian people when they became homeless? Then they wouldn’t have had to live in tents for the last 50 years and maybe they wouldn’t be so pissed off. Come on, you have lots of land and money, help a brother out. But no it was more politically expedient to have the Palestinians living in squalor and misery so you’d have a card to play against Israel.
Or maybe it was Abraham’s fault. You just have written a clear and concise will. The people of my son Isaac get this side of the yard and the people of my son Ishmael get this side. See, no more bickering. Now go and play nice.
Really like everything else, it’s God’s fault. Chosen people, huh? Holy Land, eh? Milk and honey, you say? That all seems to have turned out to be a great idea. I’m still trying to imagine there’s no religion, I hear it’s easy if you try.
Maybe by some miracle Ehud Ohlmert and Ismail Haniya can find a way to work together for peace despite all their rhetoric to the contrary. Who knows, Nixon did go to China after all. But I don’t think that’s where the smart money is at. So for the foreseeable future Palestinians will be killing Israelis and Israelis will be killing Palestinians. And one day I’ll have to explain to my kids why these two groups of people hate each other. And that truly breaks my heart.
As much as it pains me to say it, I think my friend Scott might have the right idea. We should just nuke the whole Middle East and turn it into one big glass parking lot. You can still drill through that stuff and it’ll be so much easier to find the oil that way
Monday, March 27, 2006
Come on, light just a little fire?
When you walk around Buenos Aires wearing your Boca Jrs. jersey you get one of two reactions from complete strangers. Either merciless taunting and complaints about how ugly your shirt is, or enthusiastic cheers and thumbs-up signs. There is no middle ground. And when you walk around Buenos Aires the day of the Boca Jr. v River Plate game, when those two teams happen to be separated in the standings by a single point, and the newspapers are already calling this game a “superclasico”, the normal reaction you would get seems to be magnified exponentially.
The Argentineans really are quite mad about their football. Actually they are just quite mad, but their madness seems to express itself most evidently in relation to their football. My original plan was to attend the match in person and witness the madness firsthand. I endured trial and tribulation to achieve this goal, but alas it was not meant to be.
When I started asking around about how I could get tickets for this game I discovered I had one of two options. I could find a travel agency that catered to tourists and pay them a lot of money (and for this game, I mean A LOT of money) to come pick me up and take me in a nice air-conditioned bus to the game and give me a tour of La Boca. Or I could do what the Argentineans do, which is stay up all night Saturday queuing (although that’s far too generous a description for the madness that occurs) in front of the stadium, wait until 4 PM the next day when the game starts and hope to get one of the standing room only seats. But odds are you won’t get in anyways, and I’ll probably get mugged or knifed, seeing as La Boca is one of the most dangerous parts of Buenos Aires.
I try to avoid doing things the “tourist” way but I didn’t really like the second option either. So I went searching for door number 3. And I found it, so I thought. “Just go to La Boca a day or two before the game and try to scalp tickets on the street.” Simple enough, I can do that, I’ll just hop on the bus and head to La Boca.
My last job at Microsoft involved manually disassembling machine level computer code and cross-referencing it against various modules in various computer languages in various components of our operating system in order to isolate a particular line of defective code out of the millions of lines of code that made up Windows. This proved to be excellent practice for navigating the Buenos Aires bus system.
The standard Buenos Aires bus guide is, I kid you not, 192 pages long and contains everything you could possibly need to figure out which bus to take to get to a particular destination, except a route map showing where the bus actually goes. But street names, intersections, maps of various parts of town broken into little tiny quadrants, names of the routes, they are all in there.
It’s this sort of absurdity that makes me love Argentina. I haven’t found anywhere else in the world where everything is quite so ridiculous, seemingly for no other reason than the fact that we are in Argentina. After several confused minutes of pondering over the guide, determined that I needed the number 10 colectivo to get from Recoleta to La Boca. But I had no idea where to catch the number 10 and the guide was of no help. So I do what I always do when faced with such obstacles. I asked the nearest person.
One way in which the Argentineans seem to be quite like their fellow South Americans is that they all have this predilection for helping wayward travelers. Perhaps there is something in the culture that dictates that one should never fail to help with directions. Perhaps it’s simply out of necessity because not even long-time residents of Buenos Aires can understand their bus system. But time after time whenever I’ve been lost, and asked a random person for help getting where I need to go, they’ve always come through. This incident proved to be no different. A random stranger on the side of the road helped me out and I was off to La Boca.
Once I got there finding the stadium was no problem. The problem was that there were, of course, no tickets left for the game. When I asked the guy working at the cashier station he gave me the same look I have seen many times, “silly gringo, don’t you realize this is the biggest game in Argentina and you’re asking to buy tickets two days before the match, of course there are none left” He advised me to try asking on the street.
So I did, and after a couple people the best price I could find was $300 pesos (about US $100). Now it would have been super cool to be able to go to this game, but there was just no way I was going to spend that much. I’ve learned a couple things about myself while I’ve been traveling. The first is that I’m a cheap bastard. And the second is I only really want to go things I want to do, not things that I should do because they’re cool or will impress other people. No my excursion to the Boca Jrs. Stadium would have to wait for another day.
So when Sunday rolled around I decided to head to one of the many local bars, knowing that just about every TV set in the country would be tuned to the game. Whenever I watch football or talk about it I kinda feel like a poseur, because, well, when it comes to football I’m a poseur. I started wearing football jerseys because I they’re super comfortable, look really cool, and are way better souvenirs than those silly “I heart AR” shirts. Not because I’m a huge fan.
But in the last few months I’ve watched enough football to be able to appreciate the skill and athleticism involved in the game. And it’s really not that complicated to follow, you put the ball in the goal, you get a point. The one with the most points wins.
But there is more to football than just that. There are several levels of a game within a game within a game. It’s a constant back and forth, not only team versus team, but game versus the clock. The tension mounts with every bit of fancy footwork, every hard slide tackle, every break away and every save. Games are generally close enough that as the minutes wind down the anxiety among the crowd builds to a fevered pitch such that the scene is ripe for uncontrollable madness to erupt.
I’ve had it explained to me that this explains the hooliganism that is rampant among football fans. Personally I think Occam’s Razor cuts to the explanation that football fans are just a bunch of hooligans. Not that there is anything wrong with hooligan’s mind you, I mean who doesn’t enjoy breaking stuff and then lighting it on fire.
This game was a perfect example. Boca dominated the first half in every way imaginable, except the scoreboard. And they went into the locker room (or wherever it is they go) down 1-0. The second half escalated beyond belief and saw 3 red cards between the two teams. Just as time was winding down and with River Plate still up 1-0 Boca scored on a penalty kick with 30 seconds left in regulation to tie the score 1-1.
And of course the Boca fans, who only slightly outnumbered the River Plate fans in the bar I was in, began jumping and chanting and waving their banners as they are apt to do. The game was fantastic, I was on edge the whole time. I got to practice my use of the imperative clause in Spanish, “Vaya!” and “dale!” And of course the pejorative in several instances. I was never quite sure I got it right but it didn’t seem to matter because I was sufficiently loud.
The game ending in a 1-1 tie meant that everyone was somewhat pleased and there was nothing broken or engulfed in flames. I found this slightly unfortunately as I was prepared to see the Argentinean football madness, but I have faith in the spirit of these people, be patient and give it time and all things will come to be in due course.
When you walk around Buenos Aires wearing your Boca Jrs. jersey you get one of two reactions from complete strangers. Either merciless taunting and complaints about how ugly your shirt is, or enthusiastic cheers and thumbs-up signs. There is no middle ground. And when you walk around Buenos Aires the day of the Boca Jr. v River Plate game, when those two teams happen to be separated in the standings by a single point, and the newspapers are already calling this game a “superclasico”, the normal reaction you would get seems to be magnified exponentially.
The Argentineans really are quite mad about their football. Actually they are just quite mad, but their madness seems to express itself most evidently in relation to their football. My original plan was to attend the match in person and witness the madness firsthand. I endured trial and tribulation to achieve this goal, but alas it was not meant to be.
When I started asking around about how I could get tickets for this game I discovered I had one of two options. I could find a travel agency that catered to tourists and pay them a lot of money (and for this game, I mean A LOT of money) to come pick me up and take me in a nice air-conditioned bus to the game and give me a tour of La Boca. Or I could do what the Argentineans do, which is stay up all night Saturday queuing (although that’s far too generous a description for the madness that occurs) in front of the stadium, wait until 4 PM the next day when the game starts and hope to get one of the standing room only seats. But odds are you won’t get in anyways, and I’ll probably get mugged or knifed, seeing as La Boca is one of the most dangerous parts of Buenos Aires.
I try to avoid doing things the “tourist” way but I didn’t really like the second option either. So I went searching for door number 3. And I found it, so I thought. “Just go to La Boca a day or two before the game and try to scalp tickets on the street.” Simple enough, I can do that, I’ll just hop on the bus and head to La Boca.
My last job at Microsoft involved manually disassembling machine level computer code and cross-referencing it against various modules in various computer languages in various components of our operating system in order to isolate a particular line of defective code out of the millions of lines of code that made up Windows. This proved to be excellent practice for navigating the Buenos Aires bus system.
The standard Buenos Aires bus guide is, I kid you not, 192 pages long and contains everything you could possibly need to figure out which bus to take to get to a particular destination, except a route map showing where the bus actually goes. But street names, intersections, maps of various parts of town broken into little tiny quadrants, names of the routes, they are all in there.
It’s this sort of absurdity that makes me love Argentina. I haven’t found anywhere else in the world where everything is quite so ridiculous, seemingly for no other reason than the fact that we are in Argentina. After several confused minutes of pondering over the guide, determined that I needed the number 10 colectivo to get from Recoleta to La Boca. But I had no idea where to catch the number 10 and the guide was of no help. So I do what I always do when faced with such obstacles. I asked the nearest person.
One way in which the Argentineans seem to be quite like their fellow South Americans is that they all have this predilection for helping wayward travelers. Perhaps there is something in the culture that dictates that one should never fail to help with directions. Perhaps it’s simply out of necessity because not even long-time residents of Buenos Aires can understand their bus system. But time after time whenever I’ve been lost, and asked a random person for help getting where I need to go, they’ve always come through. This incident proved to be no different. A random stranger on the side of the road helped me out and I was off to La Boca.
Once I got there finding the stadium was no problem. The problem was that there were, of course, no tickets left for the game. When I asked the guy working at the cashier station he gave me the same look I have seen many times, “silly gringo, don’t you realize this is the biggest game in Argentina and you’re asking to buy tickets two days before the match, of course there are none left” He advised me to try asking on the street.
So I did, and after a couple people the best price I could find was $300 pesos (about US $100). Now it would have been super cool to be able to go to this game, but there was just no way I was going to spend that much. I’ve learned a couple things about myself while I’ve been traveling. The first is that I’m a cheap bastard. And the second is I only really want to go things I want to do, not things that I should do because they’re cool or will impress other people. No my excursion to the Boca Jrs. Stadium would have to wait for another day.
So when Sunday rolled around I decided to head to one of the many local bars, knowing that just about every TV set in the country would be tuned to the game. Whenever I watch football or talk about it I kinda feel like a poseur, because, well, when it comes to football I’m a poseur. I started wearing football jerseys because I they’re super comfortable, look really cool, and are way better souvenirs than those silly “I heart AR” shirts. Not because I’m a huge fan.
But in the last few months I’ve watched enough football to be able to appreciate the skill and athleticism involved in the game. And it’s really not that complicated to follow, you put the ball in the goal, you get a point. The one with the most points wins.
But there is more to football than just that. There are several levels of a game within a game within a game. It’s a constant back and forth, not only team versus team, but game versus the clock. The tension mounts with every bit of fancy footwork, every hard slide tackle, every break away and every save. Games are generally close enough that as the minutes wind down the anxiety among the crowd builds to a fevered pitch such that the scene is ripe for uncontrollable madness to erupt.
I’ve had it explained to me that this explains the hooliganism that is rampant among football fans. Personally I think Occam’s Razor cuts to the explanation that football fans are just a bunch of hooligans. Not that there is anything wrong with hooligan’s mind you, I mean who doesn’t enjoy breaking stuff and then lighting it on fire.
This game was a perfect example. Boca dominated the first half in every way imaginable, except the scoreboard. And they went into the locker room (or wherever it is they go) down 1-0. The second half escalated beyond belief and saw 3 red cards between the two teams. Just as time was winding down and with River Plate still up 1-0 Boca scored on a penalty kick with 30 seconds left in regulation to tie the score 1-1.
And of course the Boca fans, who only slightly outnumbered the River Plate fans in the bar I was in, began jumping and chanting and waving their banners as they are apt to do. The game was fantastic, I was on edge the whole time. I got to practice my use of the imperative clause in Spanish, “Vaya!” and “dale!” And of course the pejorative in several instances. I was never quite sure I got it right but it didn’t seem to matter because I was sufficiently loud.
The game ending in a 1-1 tie meant that everyone was somewhat pleased and there was nothing broken or engulfed in flames. I found this slightly unfortunately as I was prepared to see the Argentinean football madness, but I have faith in the spirit of these people, be patient and give it time and all things will come to be in due course.
If I was King
After being in Buenos Aires for close to two weeks you really start to understand why it is that the rest of South America seems to despise the Argentineans. I have a vastly different perspective after these two weeks than I did after my initial two weeks here over a year ago.
I think it’s because I spent the previous 3 months traveling through Colombia and Cuba and Panama and Brazil. It’s true what they say about traveling, it changes you and your perspective on the world. I feel like a different person, although I’m not sure I can describe how exactly.
People everywhere else I’ve been are literally the most friendly, social, outgoing people in the world. You can walk into any random bar not knowing anyone, let alone the language, and rest assured that you will not spend the night drinking alone. It’s easy to strike up a conversation with random strangers on the street.
This isn’t quite the case in Argentina. Granted they are far more outgoing than the folks back home, but nothing compared to their fellow South Americans. They seem a little more reserved here. Sure they go out in big groups to socialize, but they don’t seem to go out and meet new people every night, they mainly stick to the crowd they came with. Like they keep telling me, they are the “Europeans of South America.”
Someone told me that Buenos Aires has the highest ratio of residents to psychologists in the world. I can believe that. But the thought of a Colombian going to a psychologist seems beyond strange. I stayed in that country for a month and didn’t meet anyone I thought needed Zoloft. Argentina seems quite different. I guess that makes sense, Canadians aren’t the same as Mexicans, heck coffee drinkers in Seattle aren’t the same as party people in Miami, why would everyone in South America be the same.
I haven’t actually made any local friends as of yet. This hasn’t been too much of a problem so far as I’ve met lots of fellow travelers. I met up with a couple gringos at the hostel I started at and we’ve been hanging out for the majority of my time here. Great people really, I always meet the most interesting US citizens when I’m traveling outside the US. But they’re all only here for a couple of weeks, and after that I’m either going to have to find some more gringos to hang out with or somehow make some Argentinean friends. And that was one of the things I really enjoyed about traveling every where else, you get a much more “real” perspective when you can hang out with locals.
But I suppose every place has its own problems. If I could make up my own country I’d take the friendliness of the Colombians, along with the natural beauty of the rolling mountain countryside, combine the party attitude of the Cubans and Brazilians, and of course the beautiful beaches, add the culture, food and wine of Argentina and the political stability, civil liberties, economic power and opportunity of the US. And I’d have to find some way to make it as cheap as Colombia and Argentina. And of course mix in the fantastic fruit from Brazil. Well one can dream, can’t one?
Paul, the guy who runs the hostel I stayed at here in Buenos Aires told me that everyone has a place in this world. “You just have to find the spot that’s right for you.” I like that sentiment, I’d like to think that it’s true; I just don’t know that I actually believe it. I’ve been a lot of places in this world, and none of them really feel like home. Maybe the problem is that it’s true what they say “home is where the heart is” and mine, well, isn’t really anywhere right now.
After being in Buenos Aires for close to two weeks you really start to understand why it is that the rest of South America seems to despise the Argentineans. I have a vastly different perspective after these two weeks than I did after my initial two weeks here over a year ago.
I think it’s because I spent the previous 3 months traveling through Colombia and Cuba and Panama and Brazil. It’s true what they say about traveling, it changes you and your perspective on the world. I feel like a different person, although I’m not sure I can describe how exactly.
People everywhere else I’ve been are literally the most friendly, social, outgoing people in the world. You can walk into any random bar not knowing anyone, let alone the language, and rest assured that you will not spend the night drinking alone. It’s easy to strike up a conversation with random strangers on the street.
This isn’t quite the case in Argentina. Granted they are far more outgoing than the folks back home, but nothing compared to their fellow South Americans. They seem a little more reserved here. Sure they go out in big groups to socialize, but they don’t seem to go out and meet new people every night, they mainly stick to the crowd they came with. Like they keep telling me, they are the “Europeans of South America.”
Someone told me that Buenos Aires has the highest ratio of residents to psychologists in the world. I can believe that. But the thought of a Colombian going to a psychologist seems beyond strange. I stayed in that country for a month and didn’t meet anyone I thought needed Zoloft. Argentina seems quite different. I guess that makes sense, Canadians aren’t the same as Mexicans, heck coffee drinkers in Seattle aren’t the same as party people in Miami, why would everyone in South America be the same.
I haven’t actually made any local friends as of yet. This hasn’t been too much of a problem so far as I’ve met lots of fellow travelers. I met up with a couple gringos at the hostel I started at and we’ve been hanging out for the majority of my time here. Great people really, I always meet the most interesting US citizens when I’m traveling outside the US. But they’re all only here for a couple of weeks, and after that I’m either going to have to find some more gringos to hang out with or somehow make some Argentinean friends. And that was one of the things I really enjoyed about traveling every where else, you get a much more “real” perspective when you can hang out with locals.
But I suppose every place has its own problems. If I could make up my own country I’d take the friendliness of the Colombians, along with the natural beauty of the rolling mountain countryside, combine the party attitude of the Cubans and Brazilians, and of course the beautiful beaches, add the culture, food and wine of Argentina and the political stability, civil liberties, economic power and opportunity of the US. And I’d have to find some way to make it as cheap as Colombia and Argentina. And of course mix in the fantastic fruit from Brazil. Well one can dream, can’t one?
Paul, the guy who runs the hostel I stayed at here in Buenos Aires told me that everyone has a place in this world. “You just have to find the spot that’s right for you.” I like that sentiment, I’d like to think that it’s true; I just don’t know that I actually believe it. I’ve been a lot of places in this world, and none of them really feel like home. Maybe the problem is that it’s true what they say “home is where the heart is” and mine, well, isn’t really anywhere right now.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Mi Casa
A few of you were wondering what US $563 a month gets you in Buenos Aires. I know, I got "gringo'd", I paid the tourist rate. Getting the local rate would have meant signing a 3-month contract and I just wasn't ready to make that type of commitment. Although I did get them to drop about $75 a month from what they were asking. Personally I think every MBA candidate should be forced to spend a month in Colombia working on their negotiating skills. I've found that I've become a much better
deal-maker after that experience.
Well here it is, in all it's glory and splendor. My new home for the next two months. Nothing spectacular but I like it and I've already made myself at home. It´s a one-bedroom apartment in the most swank part of Buenos Aires and I guess that is worth something. Plus it comes with a weekly maid service, and you just can't put a price on that. The only problem I've had so far is the free wireless internet access I've been stealing is really flaky. I only get a pretty weak signal, which
is fine to surf the web and check e-mail, but trying to upload pictures can be really frustrating! So sometimes I have to break down and walk across the street to use the internet cafe.
A few of you were wondering what US $563 a month gets you in Buenos Aires. I know, I got "gringo'd", I paid the tourist rate. Getting the local rate would have meant signing a 3-month contract and I just wasn't ready to make that type of commitment. Although I did get them to drop about $75 a month from what they were asking. Personally I think every MBA candidate should be forced to spend a month in Colombia working on their negotiating skills. I've found that I've become a much better
deal-maker after that experience.Well here it is, in all it's glory and splendor. My new home for the next two months. Nothing spectacular but I like it and I've already made myself at home. It´s a one-bedroom apartment in the most swank part of Buenos Aires and I guess that is worth something. Plus it comes with a weekly maid service, and you just can't put a price on that. The only problem I've had so far is the free wireless internet access I've been stealing is really flaky. I only get a pretty weak signal, which
is fine to surf the web and check e-mail, but trying to upload pictures can be really frustrating! So sometimes I have to break down and walk across the street to use the internet cafe.Thursday, March 23, 2006
It´s good to be here
I came to Buenos Aires knowing that I needed a little more structure in my life than just hanging out at the beach everyday and drinking fresh mango juice. And I found exactly that, just a little bit more structure.
Being enrolled in school actually gives me something to do. A specific place to be at, at a specific time. And in the evenings I´ve taken to heading to Palermo Viejo (one of the cool hip parts of town) to this club called La Virtuda. It´s a great spot, mostly for tango dancing but they also do swing and salsa. The great thing about this club is it´s a super relaxed atmosphere and they have free dance lessons. And seeing as I am in dire need of help this works out perfectly. Plus it´s quite cheap, which is actually true of just about everything in Argentina.
When I was staying at the hostel I met Joanna, a fellow burnt-out software engineer from the Bay Area (although originally from Poland). And she´s also quite an excellent ballroom dancer. Joanna is in Buenos Aires specifically to learn the tango and it didn´t take too long before she had me hooked. So last night we met up at the usual spot and danced the night away. Her new friend Anna who´s from NYC (although originally from Sweden) and Kevin, who´s from the UK (although originally from the UK), came along as well.
I´ve come to the conclusion that Argentineans are absolutely mad. The clubs here are completely deserted until about midnight. And then people keep piling in until about 2 in the morning. And the clubs just keep going until everyone leaves, which is usually when the sun is rising, just in time to get a quick bite to eat before heading to work in the morning. I don´t understand how they do it night after night, it must be all that matte they drink.
The beginners salsa and tango lessons at La Virtuda were packed! And when I say packed, I mean it was literally impossible to take 3 steps in any direction without running into someone. It´s been like that every night I´ve been there. But everyone is friendly and no toes were broken so it´s all good. But the strange thing about it was it was almost all locals taking these lessons.
The thought of Cubans taking salsa lessons or Brazilians taking samba lessons is laughable. Yes they have dance classes in those countries but they are strictly for the tourist. But it turns out the Argentineans just can´t dance. Not all of them of course, but compared to the rest of this continent they ain´t got no rhythm. I even found myself having to help a couple Argentinean girls with the steps, and that absolutely is not a testament to my abilities but rather an explanation of how incredibly bad some of these girls are. Of course others glide across the dance floor as if they were floating.
Maybe that´s what they mean when they call themselves the "Europeans of South America" It could simply be a refernce to their inability to understand the concept of left-foot, right-foot. And it could also explain why the rest of South America mocks them endlessly. There is a lot of German blood flowing through the viens of these Argentineans after all, and (...dammit, I forgot, I`m supposed to stop making fun of the Germans!)
Before the night really got going the group of us decided we just couldn´t keep up with the Argentinean party spirit anymore. I haven´t been to bed before 2 in the morning in about a week and it turns out my body is just not happy with this. But the thing is, time flies when you´re dancing. Joanna tought me a couple new tango steps and I practiced my dipping technique with Anna which is really hard because she´s super tall. And before we knew it, it was 2 in the morning. The club was still filling up, but we were done. We all made plans to meet up tomorrow at the same spot. This is what I call structure!
I came to Buenos Aires knowing that I needed a little more structure in my life than just hanging out at the beach everyday and drinking fresh mango juice. And I found exactly that, just a little bit more structure.
Being enrolled in school actually gives me something to do. A specific place to be at, at a specific time. And in the evenings I´ve taken to heading to Palermo Viejo (one of the cool hip parts of town) to this club called La Virtuda. It´s a great spot, mostly for tango dancing but they also do swing and salsa. The great thing about this club is it´s a super relaxed atmosphere and they have free dance lessons. And seeing as I am in dire need of help this works out perfectly. Plus it´s quite cheap, which is actually true of just about everything in Argentina.
When I was staying at the hostel I met Joanna, a fellow burnt-out software engineer from the Bay Area (although originally from Poland). And she´s also quite an excellent ballroom dancer. Joanna is in Buenos Aires specifically to learn the tango and it didn´t take too long before she had me hooked. So last night we met up at the usual spot and danced the night away. Her new friend Anna who´s from NYC (although originally from Sweden) and Kevin, who´s from the UK (although originally from the UK), came along as well.
I´ve come to the conclusion that Argentineans are absolutely mad. The clubs here are completely deserted until about midnight. And then people keep piling in until about 2 in the morning. And the clubs just keep going until everyone leaves, which is usually when the sun is rising, just in time to get a quick bite to eat before heading to work in the morning. I don´t understand how they do it night after night, it must be all that matte they drink.
The beginners salsa and tango lessons at La Virtuda were packed! And when I say packed, I mean it was literally impossible to take 3 steps in any direction without running into someone. It´s been like that every night I´ve been there. But everyone is friendly and no toes were broken so it´s all good. But the strange thing about it was it was almost all locals taking these lessons.
The thought of Cubans taking salsa lessons or Brazilians taking samba lessons is laughable. Yes they have dance classes in those countries but they are strictly for the tourist. But it turns out the Argentineans just can´t dance. Not all of them of course, but compared to the rest of this continent they ain´t got no rhythm. I even found myself having to help a couple Argentinean girls with the steps, and that absolutely is not a testament to my abilities but rather an explanation of how incredibly bad some of these girls are. Of course others glide across the dance floor as if they were floating.
Maybe that´s what they mean when they call themselves the "Europeans of South America" It could simply be a refernce to their inability to understand the concept of left-foot, right-foot. And it could also explain why the rest of South America mocks them endlessly. There is a lot of German blood flowing through the viens of these Argentineans after all, and (...dammit, I forgot, I`m supposed to stop making fun of the Germans!)
Before the night really got going the group of us decided we just couldn´t keep up with the Argentinean party spirit anymore. I haven´t been to bed before 2 in the morning in about a week and it turns out my body is just not happy with this. But the thing is, time flies when you´re dancing. Joanna tought me a couple new tango steps and I practiced my dipping technique with Anna which is really hard because she´s super tall. And before we knew it, it was 2 in the morning. The club was still filling up, but we were done. We all made plans to meet up tomorrow at the same spot. This is what I call structure!
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel does clings
My Spanish classes are going great. I haven´t really learned too many new things yet but it´s only been two days. And I suppose it is good to reinforce what I already know. Plus of course I just dig the idea of being in a class with 12 other people from all over the world and being able to trade stories and perspectives. But by some strange twist of fate there are 3 (including me) gringos from Seattle in the class. I think this is just becuase they`ve all figured out that heading south for the winter is the best way to escape the rain.
I´ve come to the conclusion that I have to find some other materials I can study by myself if I actually plan on becoming fluent in this language. Reading the Spanish newspapers here seems like great practice, but I need something more challenging. Class is only 4 days a week and two hours a day, so that leaves me with a pretty good amount of free time. But this friday we don´t have class. It´s the 30th anniversary of the last military coup in Argentina, which also serves as an excuse for yet another holiday. They sure do love their holidays here.
We started talking about the history of Argentina in class today. In 1976 the last vestigages of Peron´s government (actually by that time it was the government of his 3rd wife and some European fascicts) fell to a military coup. 30,000 Argentineans disappeared in this incredibly bloody conflict; their bodies were never recovered. The government has never fessed up to what exactly happened. Countless babies were seperated from their families and adopted with no idea of their actual lineage. This continues to be a huge issue in this country, marches and protests are planned for friday. They also seem to love marching and protesting things here.
In class we had a nice long conversation about our nations and their history of military coups. The Polish guy told of the years under communism, the Belgian girls told of being occupied during World War II. The guy from Sudan and the Korean girl didn´t have to say anything, we all knew the history. The three of us from the US just looked around and said no, we´ve had the same functioning democracy for over 200 years now. The longest continuous form of government in the world. Sure there was the Civil War somewhere in the middle, but we kissed and made up, even if us Yankees do still make fun of the Red-Necks, and vice-versa.
It´s amazing to think that the land that would become the United States of America had so much in common with the rest of the Western Hemisphere during the 1700´s, yet we´ve had such a vastly different outcome. We were all settled lands, rich in natural resources, built by slaves with a common oversear in the form of the European colonial powers who had also managed to kill all of the natives or beat them into submission.
But it was only the United States that was able to cast of the shakles of imperialism and emerge as not only a functioning democracy but also a world super power. Why is that? What made us unique?
The Protestant Work Ethic? I don´t buy it, I´ve met lots of Catholics in South America who know how to work hard.
Access to a huge land mass and natural resources? Have you seen Brazil on a map? It`s massive and they have thing you need to build a country, besides a stable functioning government.
Slaves to do that hard work? Nope, they had them throughout North and South America, except maybe the Canadians, I don´t really remember.
The Industrial Revolution? Hey they knew about the steam engine in the South, news travels fast, even in those days.
The only thing I can think that we had that they didn´t is a bunch of old rich white guys with a nifty idea. They had all read their Plato and Aristotle, Descartes and Hobbes, Locke and Rosseau. And they decided to form a Representitive Democracy for the first time in the world since the Greek city-states. A form of government that was for and by the people, which protected the rights of the individual and did not blindly bequeth power to the state, but instead maintained checks and balances. A pretty revolutionary idea, huh?
And what do you know, not only did it work amazingly well, but in the 200 years since the idea has spread throughout the world. Even if the French won´t admit it these days, their cherished ideas of ¨Liberty, Equality and Fraternity¨ owe as much to de Tocqueville and the US as they do to Voltaire.
But never have these ideas really catch on in South America. They like their powerfull figureheads and have had their run of strong men and dictators. Sure most countries here are now ¨democratic¨ even if they happen to be run by Socialists like Bolivia or ex-military officers who were originally elected and have now managed to cement their power hold like Venezuela. And the Argentineans that I´ve met are immensely proud of the fact that they´ve been a functioning democracy since 1983 and the terrible aftermath of The Falklands War. Imagine the party they´ll have when they hit 25 years, a quarter of a century! For as much as I like the people I´ve met here, their governments are a sad sad tribute to the worst aspects of humanity.
And let´s be honest. It´s not the same in the US, no matter what you might think of our government. The notion of the frail and doomed individual who is more valuable and important than the timelessness of the state and the greater common good does not exist in down here. Not only is the individual not cherished, he is just something to be stepped on in the path towards glory.
But the truth is the state doesn´t matter. Empires rise and fall and make for little more than fascinating history. But the individual is immortal, inspires us to exist and transcends humanity altogether.
For this reason, moreso than any others, I can still be a proud citizen of the US of A. For everything that is wrong with our country, for every petty annoyance I rant about, for every travesty I ignore and every complaint that I have made in this blog and other places, I feel secure knowing that my right to be an asshole is protected in writing, under bullet proof glass, for what might as well be eternity, at the Smithsonian.
My Spanish classes are going great. I haven´t really learned too many new things yet but it´s only been two days. And I suppose it is good to reinforce what I already know. Plus of course I just dig the idea of being in a class with 12 other people from all over the world and being able to trade stories and perspectives. But by some strange twist of fate there are 3 (including me) gringos from Seattle in the class. I think this is just becuase they`ve all figured out that heading south for the winter is the best way to escape the rain.
I´ve come to the conclusion that I have to find some other materials I can study by myself if I actually plan on becoming fluent in this language. Reading the Spanish newspapers here seems like great practice, but I need something more challenging. Class is only 4 days a week and two hours a day, so that leaves me with a pretty good amount of free time. But this friday we don´t have class. It´s the 30th anniversary of the last military coup in Argentina, which also serves as an excuse for yet another holiday. They sure do love their holidays here.
We started talking about the history of Argentina in class today. In 1976 the last vestigages of Peron´s government (actually by that time it was the government of his 3rd wife and some European fascicts) fell to a military coup. 30,000 Argentineans disappeared in this incredibly bloody conflict; their bodies were never recovered. The government has never fessed up to what exactly happened. Countless babies were seperated from their families and adopted with no idea of their actual lineage. This continues to be a huge issue in this country, marches and protests are planned for friday. They also seem to love marching and protesting things here.
In class we had a nice long conversation about our nations and their history of military coups. The Polish guy told of the years under communism, the Belgian girls told of being occupied during World War II. The guy from Sudan and the Korean girl didn´t have to say anything, we all knew the history. The three of us from the US just looked around and said no, we´ve had the same functioning democracy for over 200 years now. The longest continuous form of government in the world. Sure there was the Civil War somewhere in the middle, but we kissed and made up, even if us Yankees do still make fun of the Red-Necks, and vice-versa.
It´s amazing to think that the land that would become the United States of America had so much in common with the rest of the Western Hemisphere during the 1700´s, yet we´ve had such a vastly different outcome. We were all settled lands, rich in natural resources, built by slaves with a common oversear in the form of the European colonial powers who had also managed to kill all of the natives or beat them into submission.
But it was only the United States that was able to cast of the shakles of imperialism and emerge as not only a functioning democracy but also a world super power. Why is that? What made us unique?
The Protestant Work Ethic? I don´t buy it, I´ve met lots of Catholics in South America who know how to work hard.
Access to a huge land mass and natural resources? Have you seen Brazil on a map? It`s massive and they have thing you need to build a country, besides a stable functioning government.
Slaves to do that hard work? Nope, they had them throughout North and South America, except maybe the Canadians, I don´t really remember.
The Industrial Revolution? Hey they knew about the steam engine in the South, news travels fast, even in those days.
The only thing I can think that we had that they didn´t is a bunch of old rich white guys with a nifty idea. They had all read their Plato and Aristotle, Descartes and Hobbes, Locke and Rosseau. And they decided to form a Representitive Democracy for the first time in the world since the Greek city-states. A form of government that was for and by the people, which protected the rights of the individual and did not blindly bequeth power to the state, but instead maintained checks and balances. A pretty revolutionary idea, huh?
And what do you know, not only did it work amazingly well, but in the 200 years since the idea has spread throughout the world. Even if the French won´t admit it these days, their cherished ideas of ¨Liberty, Equality and Fraternity¨ owe as much to de Tocqueville and the US as they do to Voltaire.
But never have these ideas really catch on in South America. They like their powerfull figureheads and have had their run of strong men and dictators. Sure most countries here are now ¨democratic¨ even if they happen to be run by Socialists like Bolivia or ex-military officers who were originally elected and have now managed to cement their power hold like Venezuela. And the Argentineans that I´ve met are immensely proud of the fact that they´ve been a functioning democracy since 1983 and the terrible aftermath of The Falklands War. Imagine the party they´ll have when they hit 25 years, a quarter of a century! For as much as I like the people I´ve met here, their governments are a sad sad tribute to the worst aspects of humanity.
And let´s be honest. It´s not the same in the US, no matter what you might think of our government. The notion of the frail and doomed individual who is more valuable and important than the timelessness of the state and the greater common good does not exist in down here. Not only is the individual not cherished, he is just something to be stepped on in the path towards glory.
But the truth is the state doesn´t matter. Empires rise and fall and make for little more than fascinating history. But the individual is immortal, inspires us to exist and transcends humanity altogether.
For this reason, moreso than any others, I can still be a proud citizen of the US of A. For everything that is wrong with our country, for every petty annoyance I rant about, for every travesty I ignore and every complaint that I have made in this blog and other places, I feel secure knowing that my right to be an asshole is protected in writing, under bullet proof glass, for what might as well be eternity, at the Smithsonian.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Dear Silly Little White Girl,
You´re from Boston, not from India. I don´t care how many saris you own, how enlightening those two weeks you spent in Delhi were, or how many times you´ve seen ¨Bend it like Bekham.¨ Go back home and order some chowder.
Personally I blame Madonna and Sarah McLaughlin for this recent wave of disenchanted free spirits who seem to have found themselves in India. But let´s be real, shall we? There is nothing ¨liberating¨ about 800 million people living in dire poverty and the Dali Lami is from Tibet. The entire concept of reincarnation and karma is just a way to tell you everything bad that happens is your own fault so shut up and stop complaining and if you´re good enough in your next life things will be better. And you thought Baptist churches were bad?
Yes chicken biryani is delicious and there is nothing like naan fresh out of a tandoor but that doesn´t mean you have to look for salvation in a far off distant land. We both know you´re just running away from your own shit at the homestead and India has provided you with a convenient new ¨center of being.¨ Your Hindi is terrible and you and I both speak fluent english so why do you insist on assaulting my ears?
Truth be told, the culpability stretches all the way back to George Harrison and Donovan. But the difference with those two is they were doing it because they actually found something that worked for them. Something they believed in and that helped them along their path in life. They weren´t just following the crowd by rebelling and being out of the mainstream like you are, I bet is pisses off your parents doesn´t it? Plus they had talent, and talent makes up for a lot of goofy decisions.
Between the henna tattoos, terrible Alanis Morrisette songs and people doing yoga everywhere I look I can´t take the fascination with Indian culture anymore. As someone who has grown up on the fringes of that culture let me tell you, there are good parts and there are bad parts. But it´s not the bastion to salvation that you´re looking for, it´s not going to provide you all the answers to all your problems, it´s not some miraculous culture with all the wisdom and insight that you lack.
So lets make a deal, shall we. You don´t get to tell me how I don´t understand India anymore, and I promise not to drown you in the Ghanges. Go back home and deal with your own problems like an adult and stop pretending to be something you´re not.
Anyways, I don´t have time for this anymore. I got some salsa lessons to go to tonight and hopefully I´ll have a chance to practice my spanish with that new Argentinean chick I met.
chau,
Kashif
You´re from Boston, not from India. I don´t care how many saris you own, how enlightening those two weeks you spent in Delhi were, or how many times you´ve seen ¨Bend it like Bekham.¨ Go back home and order some chowder.
Personally I blame Madonna and Sarah McLaughlin for this recent wave of disenchanted free spirits who seem to have found themselves in India. But let´s be real, shall we? There is nothing ¨liberating¨ about 800 million people living in dire poverty and the Dali Lami is from Tibet. The entire concept of reincarnation and karma is just a way to tell you everything bad that happens is your own fault so shut up and stop complaining and if you´re good enough in your next life things will be better. And you thought Baptist churches were bad?
Yes chicken biryani is delicious and there is nothing like naan fresh out of a tandoor but that doesn´t mean you have to look for salvation in a far off distant land. We both know you´re just running away from your own shit at the homestead and India has provided you with a convenient new ¨center of being.¨ Your Hindi is terrible and you and I both speak fluent english so why do you insist on assaulting my ears?
Truth be told, the culpability stretches all the way back to George Harrison and Donovan. But the difference with those two is they were doing it because they actually found something that worked for them. Something they believed in and that helped them along their path in life. They weren´t just following the crowd by rebelling and being out of the mainstream like you are, I bet is pisses off your parents doesn´t it? Plus they had talent, and talent makes up for a lot of goofy decisions.
Between the henna tattoos, terrible Alanis Morrisette songs and people doing yoga everywhere I look I can´t take the fascination with Indian culture anymore. As someone who has grown up on the fringes of that culture let me tell you, there are good parts and there are bad parts. But it´s not the bastion to salvation that you´re looking for, it´s not going to provide you all the answers to all your problems, it´s not some miraculous culture with all the wisdom and insight that you lack.
So lets make a deal, shall we. You don´t get to tell me how I don´t understand India anymore, and I promise not to drown you in the Ghanges. Go back home and deal with your own problems like an adult and stop pretending to be something you´re not.
Anyways, I don´t have time for this anymore. I got some salsa lessons to go to tonight and hopefully I´ll have a chance to practice my spanish with that new Argentinean chick I met.
chau,
Kashif
This feels like progress
Today I moved into my new apartment. I actually signed a two month contract for this place, which makes this by far the biggest commitment I´ve made in last ...oh lets say... 2 years. It´s in a great part of Buenos Aires, just about 6 blocks from the Cementario de Recoleta where Eva Peron is buried. It also happens to be one of the major spots for night life in the area, spooky huh?
I also got myself enrolled in an intensive Spanish language course. It´s 8 hours a week for the next two months. I start this tuesday and can´t wait. Maybe finally I can actually learn this language properly. Plus I think it´s really cool to be able to say I´m a student at the University of Buenos Aires.
And I got a SIM for my cell phone. So anyone back home who wants to get a hold of me can do so at their leisure. Drop me a line if you need the number. And I´ve already started collecting a couple local numbers to put in my cell phone. I do love this country you know.
All this might not seem like that much work, but one must not forget I am in Argentina. And while I still consider Buenos Aires to be the jewel of South America, it is still a South American country. I haven´t quite figured out what it is about this continent, but things just don´t work.
After a while you get used to the fact that when you stop into a bank to use the ATM you only have a 50/50 chance that it will actually give you money. And when you call someone on the phone you stop being suprised when the line doesn`t ring after three or four tries. And sometimes when you go to look at an apartment, no one can seem to find the keys. This all seems to be par for the course.
Truth be told, many fewer things worked in Cuba and Brazil. It´s not too terrible here, but you can definately tell the difference between here and the ¨western¨ world. None of this really seems to bother anyone, except the tourists of course. We all sit around and tap our feet, and look at our watches and utter frustrated sighs. The Argentineans seem pretty content to sit and wait.
Maybe our economic success has spoiled us. We want it all and we want it now. Or maybe the lack of success in South America keeps the folks here from realizing how things could be, if only their continent functioned, and therefore keeps them complacent. Either way, I´m going to head out and get a café con leche now and sit around and read a newspaper.
Today I moved into my new apartment. I actually signed a two month contract for this place, which makes this by far the biggest commitment I´ve made in last ...oh lets say... 2 years. It´s in a great part of Buenos Aires, just about 6 blocks from the Cementario de Recoleta where Eva Peron is buried. It also happens to be one of the major spots for night life in the area, spooky huh?
I also got myself enrolled in an intensive Spanish language course. It´s 8 hours a week for the next two months. I start this tuesday and can´t wait. Maybe finally I can actually learn this language properly. Plus I think it´s really cool to be able to say I´m a student at the University of Buenos Aires.
And I got a SIM for my cell phone. So anyone back home who wants to get a hold of me can do so at their leisure. Drop me a line if you need the number. And I´ve already started collecting a couple local numbers to put in my cell phone. I do love this country you know.
All this might not seem like that much work, but one must not forget I am in Argentina. And while I still consider Buenos Aires to be the jewel of South America, it is still a South American country. I haven´t quite figured out what it is about this continent, but things just don´t work.
After a while you get used to the fact that when you stop into a bank to use the ATM you only have a 50/50 chance that it will actually give you money. And when you call someone on the phone you stop being suprised when the line doesn`t ring after three or four tries. And sometimes when you go to look at an apartment, no one can seem to find the keys. This all seems to be par for the course.
Truth be told, many fewer things worked in Cuba and Brazil. It´s not too terrible here, but you can definately tell the difference between here and the ¨western¨ world. None of this really seems to bother anyone, except the tourists of course. We all sit around and tap our feet, and look at our watches and utter frustrated sighs. The Argentineans seem pretty content to sit and wait.
Maybe our economic success has spoiled us. We want it all and we want it now. Or maybe the lack of success in South America keeps the folks here from realizing how things could be, if only their continent functioned, and therefore keeps them complacent. Either way, I´m going to head out and get a café con leche now and sit around and read a newspaper.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
I guess they're not that bad after all
You know what, sometimes I'm just wrong. Not too often, but everyonce in a while I'm just completely off base. And I like to think that I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong. And this time, I was completely wrong. I've made some unflattering remarks about the Germans (sorry again Patrick) and thought even worse, but it turns out some of them are quite decent.
See I'm staying in a hostel here in Buenos Aires which is run by this great guy named Paul. Paul isn't German, he's actually from Hollywood. He decided to flee the US about 6 years ago and settle down in Buenos Aires. I started to ask him why, but then I realized it was a silly question.
But Paul's ex-girlfriend is German. And apparently she's done some advertising for Paul back home so about half the clientele of the hostel right now are lovely German ladies. Well there is one German guy too, but he's pretty cool. And he bought me a beer so that makes him ok in my book. The other half are folks from the US, but not the typical annoying gringos I kept meeting in Brazil. These guys all speak pretty decent spanish and have cool travel stories to tell, so that makes them good people.
I was finally feeling somewhat better, this being my second full day in Buenos Aires and all. So when the group of hostelers decided we were going to hit the tango / salsa club tonight I was down. The nine of us hopped on a bus and headed out towards Palermo Viejo, where all the cool kids hang out at night.
The club was just getting going, and we were just in time to catch the first tango lesson. It's a great dance really, smooth and sensual, makes sense seeing as it was invented in the brothels of Buenos Aires. I was a little lost at first as usual, but by my third dance partner I had gotten the first series of steps down. No not quite Al Pacino from "Scent of a Woman" but I've got a couple months in Buenos Aires to go yet.
In between tango and salsa lessons we sat and chatted. Every conversation with an international cast of characters invariably turns to politics. And it was fascinating to hear the German perspective (well assuming the 5 samples I heard represents the collective German perspective).
"The problem with Germany is our welfare state is crippling our economy" I was told by Dan, the lone German male. "Unemployment is high and there really is no incentive to work hard." And oddly enough I found myself touting the benefits of socialized medicine, something I've never done before. Turns out folks from Deutschland are really quite reasonable when they're not trying to take over the world.
Somehow the conversation changed tracks towards "Nenne really wants to learn some salsa, why don't you teach her what you learned in Cuba" Yes the Germans really are delightful. And it doesn't hurt that when I'm on the same dance floor with them I feel much better about myself.
You know what, sometimes I'm just wrong. Not too often, but everyonce in a while I'm just completely off base. And I like to think that I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong. And this time, I was completely wrong. I've made some unflattering remarks about the Germans (sorry again Patrick) and thought even worse, but it turns out some of them are quite decent.
See I'm staying in a hostel here in Buenos Aires which is run by this great guy named Paul. Paul isn't German, he's actually from Hollywood. He decided to flee the US about 6 years ago and settle down in Buenos Aires. I started to ask him why, but then I realized it was a silly question.
But Paul's ex-girlfriend is German. And apparently she's done some advertising for Paul back home so about half the clientele of the hostel right now are lovely German ladies. Well there is one German guy too, but he's pretty cool. And he bought me a beer so that makes him ok in my book. The other half are folks from the US, but not the typical annoying gringos I kept meeting in Brazil. These guys all speak pretty decent spanish and have cool travel stories to tell, so that makes them good people.
I was finally feeling somewhat better, this being my second full day in Buenos Aires and all. So when the group of hostelers decided we were going to hit the tango / salsa club tonight I was down. The nine of us hopped on a bus and headed out towards Palermo Viejo, where all the cool kids hang out at night.
The club was just getting going, and we were just in time to catch the first tango lesson. It's a great dance really, smooth and sensual, makes sense seeing as it was invented in the brothels of Buenos Aires. I was a little lost at first as usual, but by my third dance partner I had gotten the first series of steps down. No not quite Al Pacino from "Scent of a Woman" but I've got a couple months in Buenos Aires to go yet.
In between tango and salsa lessons we sat and chatted. Every conversation with an international cast of characters invariably turns to politics. And it was fascinating to hear the German perspective (well assuming the 5 samples I heard represents the collective German perspective).
"The problem with Germany is our welfare state is crippling our economy" I was told by Dan, the lone German male. "Unemployment is high and there really is no incentive to work hard." And oddly enough I found myself touting the benefits of socialized medicine, something I've never done before. Turns out folks from Deutschland are really quite reasonable when they're not trying to take over the world.
Somehow the conversation changed tracks towards "Nenne really wants to learn some salsa, why don't you teach her what you learned in Cuba" Yes the Germans really are delightful. And it doesn't hurt that when I'm on the same dance floor with them I feel much better about myself.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
I can't understand what it means
Buenos Aires at last. When I began this trip there were only three things that I really knew for certain. I was going to start in Colombia, I'd be in Rio for Carnaval and at some point I'd wind up in Buenos Aires. Here I am again.
BsAs is quickly rushing into the number one spot on my list of all-time favorite world cities. I've taken to describing it as Paris, without the Parisians. It's full of wonderful parks and artwork, beautiful architecture and quiet little shops, fantastic cafes and bakeries, amazing nightlife all the benefits of a metropolitan city and and of course the best steak and wine in the world (ok, maybe french wine is better, but you have to put up with the French).
Argentineans in generally, and Porteños specifically (inhabitants of Buenos Aires) have developed quite a reputation in South America for being snooty and arrogant. It might have something to do with the fact that they've taken to refering to themselves as the "Europeans of South America" And while it's certainly true that the average Argentinian I've run across isn't as friendly as the average Colombian or as fun-loving as the average Brazilian, they seem like pretty swell people to me.
And after spending the last 3 months travelling through one smelly, dirty Latin American city after another (actually Medellin was fairly clean and so was Panama City) it's quite refreshing to be in a jewel of a city where my olfactory senses aren't constantly assaulted. I can drink the water, flush the toilet paper and eat all of the food.
The only problem I've run into so far is Brazil left me with a little present. There's some kind of tickle in the back of my throat, which has kept me from enjoying BsAs to it's fullest this last day and a half. But patience, patience, said the man. All things will come to pass in due time.
I plan on being here for a bit of time. I'm looking for a univeristy to attend to actually learn this language I've been butchering for the last several months. And somehow just settling down and renting an apartment has a certain appeal to it, after spending the last three months living out of a bag and travelling from country to country. I could see myself spending quite a bit of time here infact, guess we'll have to wait and see what happens.
Buenos Aires at last. When I began this trip there were only three things that I really knew for certain. I was going to start in Colombia, I'd be in Rio for Carnaval and at some point I'd wind up in Buenos Aires. Here I am again.
BsAs is quickly rushing into the number one spot on my list of all-time favorite world cities. I've taken to describing it as Paris, without the Parisians. It's full of wonderful parks and artwork, beautiful architecture and quiet little shops, fantastic cafes and bakeries, amazing nightlife all the benefits of a metropolitan city and and of course the best steak and wine in the world (ok, maybe french wine is better, but you have to put up with the French).
Argentineans in generally, and Porteños specifically (inhabitants of Buenos Aires) have developed quite a reputation in South America for being snooty and arrogant. It might have something to do with the fact that they've taken to refering to themselves as the "Europeans of South America" And while it's certainly true that the average Argentinian I've run across isn't as friendly as the average Colombian or as fun-loving as the average Brazilian, they seem like pretty swell people to me.
And after spending the last 3 months travelling through one smelly, dirty Latin American city after another (actually Medellin was fairly clean and so was Panama City) it's quite refreshing to be in a jewel of a city where my olfactory senses aren't constantly assaulted. I can drink the water, flush the toilet paper and eat all of the food.
The only problem I've run into so far is Brazil left me with a little present. There's some kind of tickle in the back of my throat, which has kept me from enjoying BsAs to it's fullest this last day and a half. But patience, patience, said the man. All things will come to pass in due time.
I plan on being here for a bit of time. I'm looking for a univeristy to attend to actually learn this language I've been butchering for the last several months. And somehow just settling down and renting an apartment has a certain appeal to it, after spending the last three months living out of a bag and travelling from country to country. I could see myself spending quite a bit of time here infact, guess we'll have to wait and see what happens.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
I've already pissed off the feminists, who's next?
Whenever I find myself in a mixed international crowd and I introduce myself as a US citizen, the same question invariably arises..."so what do you think of George Bush?" When speaking with anyone who doesn´t have a good grasp of the english language there is only one acceptable answer. "George Bush es un carbon!" [don´t bother correcting me, I´ve already been mocked endlessly for my latest linguistic miscue]
But when there is a solid foundation for communication I find myself more at ease to discuss some of the nuances of my position. No I don´t particularly like George Bush. No I didn´t and still don´t support the war in Iraq. Yes I am extremely bothered by what seems like an excessively arrogant administration.
But the US is at quite the crossroad in our national history. Right now, moreso than ever before, our position as the unquestioned world super power is at risk. The status quo looks certain to change with the emergence of China and India on the global stage and an increasingly united Europe (although they still remind me of a bunch of kids trying to get along during recess).
I do know this. If in 20 years time there is by some miracle functioning democracies in Afghanistan, Iraq and Palestine (and maybe Iran?) than George W. Bush will eclipse the allure that has been hoisted on Ronald Reagan since his death, and will be remembered as one of the greatest US Presidents ever.
What´s the likelihood that this will actually come to pass? I have no fucking clue, and anyone who tells you they do is either blinded by a partisan viewpoint or lying. What bothers me most about the world opinion that I´ve heard so far is there seems to be an actual hope that the democratic experiment in all of these countries fail miserably and they desend into civil war. Then everyone can look at the US and say, "see, we told you so."
I understand this viewpoint from the Latin Americans. They´ve seen first hand what US intervention has brought. For over 100 years the US has been interfering in the hemisphere and largely brought nothing but grief an misery, along with a string of ruthless dictators, and lots of tourists in hawaiin shirts.
But my European friends seem to have either forgotten or decided to collectively ignore their history. For over two millenia Europe waged war internally, and then when it became feasible, in every part of the world. Twice in the last 100 years that silly little peninsula dangling off of Asia has instigated a war the likes of which were previously unimaginable and brought the rest of the world to the brink of chaos. And both times the US of A has come on in to save the day in the nick of time, like the good cowboys we are.
It's not that I expect everlasting gratitude for what our grandparents did (yes, even my grandparents), but I do find the intellectual snobbery that accompanies any political debate with most Europeans to be more than a little insulting. Yes maybe you've figured some things out, but it wasn't that long ago that the rest of the world was suffering the consequences of your petty squables.
For the last 50 years they have been at relative peace (did someone mention the Balkans?) Perhaps it is true, the collective unconcious of Europeans have benefited from those years. Almost every country in Europe had its moment to shine, to be the world super power. And perhaps they have learned that it really isn't worth it.
Whether we like it or not, Pax Americana is coming to an end. It's not feasible for the US to continue to dominate the world stage indefinately. The rate of change continues to advance. The Roman Empire lasted for something like 1500 years, the British for only 200. The US hasn't quite hit 100 years yet, how many more do we have to go?
The Bush Administration seems to be doing what they believe they need to do to push that timeline out as far as possible. Everything that our administration is doing right now is designed to counter the threats to US Imperialism and ensure that the US continues to be the only global super power. But short of nuking China, it's bound to fail.
I don't know when, but I believe within my lifetime we'll see a shift in the power distribution in the world stage. And I say, bring it on. As much as I might be annoyed by political debates I've had with Europeans, I think they're on to something. It just isn't worth being a world super power.
When you're the top dog, everyone is aiming for you. And are actively searching for any point of weakness to take advantage of. You have a few allies, who will back you up when times are good, but will turn on you if they can improve their own position. And some brash upstart who has had a string of good luck is just waiting for the chance to knock you off your high horse. But when you're Germany no one cares about you except for the cars (sorry Patrick, couldn't resist). The end of the world as we know it is coming, and I feel fine.
Whenever I find myself in a mixed international crowd and I introduce myself as a US citizen, the same question invariably arises..."so what do you think of George Bush?" When speaking with anyone who doesn´t have a good grasp of the english language there is only one acceptable answer. "George Bush es un carbon!" [don´t bother correcting me, I´ve already been mocked endlessly for my latest linguistic miscue]
But when there is a solid foundation for communication I find myself more at ease to discuss some of the nuances of my position. No I don´t particularly like George Bush. No I didn´t and still don´t support the war in Iraq. Yes I am extremely bothered by what seems like an excessively arrogant administration.
But the US is at quite the crossroad in our national history. Right now, moreso than ever before, our position as the unquestioned world super power is at risk. The status quo looks certain to change with the emergence of China and India on the global stage and an increasingly united Europe (although they still remind me of a bunch of kids trying to get along during recess).
I do know this. If in 20 years time there is by some miracle functioning democracies in Afghanistan, Iraq and Palestine (and maybe Iran?) than George W. Bush will eclipse the allure that has been hoisted on Ronald Reagan since his death, and will be remembered as one of the greatest US Presidents ever.
What´s the likelihood that this will actually come to pass? I have no fucking clue, and anyone who tells you they do is either blinded by a partisan viewpoint or lying. What bothers me most about the world opinion that I´ve heard so far is there seems to be an actual hope that the democratic experiment in all of these countries fail miserably and they desend into civil war. Then everyone can look at the US and say, "see, we told you so."
I understand this viewpoint from the Latin Americans. They´ve seen first hand what US intervention has brought. For over 100 years the US has been interfering in the hemisphere and largely brought nothing but grief an misery, along with a string of ruthless dictators, and lots of tourists in hawaiin shirts.
But my European friends seem to have either forgotten or decided to collectively ignore their history. For over two millenia Europe waged war internally, and then when it became feasible, in every part of the world. Twice in the last 100 years that silly little peninsula dangling off of Asia has instigated a war the likes of which were previously unimaginable and brought the rest of the world to the brink of chaos. And both times the US of A has come on in to save the day in the nick of time, like the good cowboys we are.
It's not that I expect everlasting gratitude for what our grandparents did (yes, even my grandparents), but I do find the intellectual snobbery that accompanies any political debate with most Europeans to be more than a little insulting. Yes maybe you've figured some things out, but it wasn't that long ago that the rest of the world was suffering the consequences of your petty squables.
For the last 50 years they have been at relative peace (did someone mention the Balkans?) Perhaps it is true, the collective unconcious of Europeans have benefited from those years. Almost every country in Europe had its moment to shine, to be the world super power. And perhaps they have learned that it really isn't worth it.
Whether we like it or not, Pax Americana is coming to an end. It's not feasible for the US to continue to dominate the world stage indefinately. The rate of change continues to advance. The Roman Empire lasted for something like 1500 years, the British for only 200. The US hasn't quite hit 100 years yet, how many more do we have to go?
The Bush Administration seems to be doing what they believe they need to do to push that timeline out as far as possible. Everything that our administration is doing right now is designed to counter the threats to US Imperialism and ensure that the US continues to be the only global super power. But short of nuking China, it's bound to fail.
I don't know when, but I believe within my lifetime we'll see a shift in the power distribution in the world stage. And I say, bring it on. As much as I might be annoyed by political debates I've had with Europeans, I think they're on to something. It just isn't worth being a world super power.
When you're the top dog, everyone is aiming for you. And are actively searching for any point of weakness to take advantage of. You have a few allies, who will back you up when times are good, but will turn on you if they can improve their own position. And some brash upstart who has had a string of good luck is just waiting for the chance to knock you off your high horse. But when you're Germany no one cares about you except for the cars (sorry Patrick, couldn't resist). The end of the world as we know it is coming, and I feel fine.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Man and God and Law
When I started this trip I knew I needed to take a bunch of reading material with me. I knew finding books in English wasn't going to be easy while I was travelling and my Spanish has improved, but reading a book in Spanish is still pretty exhausting mentally.
So I loaded up my bag with the books I had sitting around in my "To Read" pile. Great stuff about religion and philosophy, Marx and Freud, the shit I'm usually into reading. 7 books in total and they took up a lot of space in my bag, but I figured it would be worth it, because these books would provide so much knowledge and insight.
Well it's been 3 months on the road now. And I've skimmed through a few dozen pages and was bored me to tears. I've had no desire to read them, I no longer believe they can tell me anything that I can't figure out myself.
I used to mock people who talked about opening their eyes and seeing the world around them. I still kinda do in fact, but I think I have a little better idea of what they're talking about. Many people have told me I think too much, that I need to master my anxiety. I always ignored that criticism as simply daggers from the unenlightened. But maybe they're on to something.
I've decided I need to get rid of some stuff before I head over to Buenos Aires. And this whole pile of books is number one on the list. Turns out I don't need them anymore. Yes they can be interesting, and there are some great bits in there, but if you want to learn about life, I think you need to just live, not read a book about living.
The books are getting left at the hostel. Hopefully some bored philosophy major will stumble across them and put them to good use. I actually feel like they served my purpose perfectly without ever being opened.
When I started this trip I knew I needed to take a bunch of reading material with me. I knew finding books in English wasn't going to be easy while I was travelling and my Spanish has improved, but reading a book in Spanish is still pretty exhausting mentally.
So I loaded up my bag with the books I had sitting around in my "To Read" pile. Great stuff about religion and philosophy, Marx and Freud, the shit I'm usually into reading. 7 books in total and they took up a lot of space in my bag, but I figured it would be worth it, because these books would provide so much knowledge and insight.
Well it's been 3 months on the road now. And I've skimmed through a few dozen pages and was bored me to tears. I've had no desire to read them, I no longer believe they can tell me anything that I can't figure out myself.
I used to mock people who talked about opening their eyes and seeing the world around them. I still kinda do in fact, but I think I have a little better idea of what they're talking about. Many people have told me I think too much, that I need to master my anxiety. I always ignored that criticism as simply daggers from the unenlightened. But maybe they're on to something.
I've decided I need to get rid of some stuff before I head over to Buenos Aires. And this whole pile of books is number one on the list. Turns out I don't need them anymore. Yes they can be interesting, and there are some great bits in there, but if you want to learn about life, I think you need to just live, not read a book about living.
The books are getting left at the hostel. Hopefully some bored philosophy major will stumble across them and put them to good use. I actually feel like they served my purpose perfectly without ever being opened.
Somewheres in this universe there's a place that you can call home
Argentina is where it all started. I was there about a year ago, my first trip to South America. My first taste of the culture, the music and of being immersed in the spanish language and I loved every second of it. Of course the wine, women and steaks didn´t hurt either.
I´ve had the travel bug for as long as I can remember. When I was young my parents moved around a bit and my Dad was always travelling for work. I suppose that´s where it comes from. But there´s been something different about Latin America. Of all the places I´ve ever visited, this is where I´ve felt the most at home. Maybe it´s just because I´m spending more time looking right now.
I´m kinda done with Rio and Brazil in general. I can´t actually believe I´m saying that, but it´s true. Beautiful city, wonderful people, but I´m just kinda done. I haven´t really learned much Portuguese down here, but my Spanish has improved. I´ve been looking forward to settling down in Buenos Aires for a bit. Finding a language school to attend, taking some dance lessons, renting an apartment for two months or so. Bill says he´s going to come down to visit and my sister Asma is considering it too. It was nice to have Ellick and Samira meet me in Rio, hopefully this will be equally as good.
After three months of travelling I am kinda feeling like I need a bit more structure in my life. A schedule, a routine. Yes waking up every morning in Rio, hitting the suco stand for some mango juice (they have excellent mangoes here you know), lounging on the beach for a couple of hours, going for a swim and hanging out with whoever was around in the hostel has been a lot of fun. But it never really seemed like more than a vacation. My rudder seemed disconnected and even I need more of a direction than just wherever the currents take me.
They say you can´t go back home. I wonder if you can go back to Argentina? Who knows if BsAs will live up to the fantastic time I had there last year, it certainly won´t be the same. Well I´ve got my ticket bought for this tuesday, so I suppose I´ll find out then.
Argentina is where it all started. I was there about a year ago, my first trip to South America. My first taste of the culture, the music and of being immersed in the spanish language and I loved every second of it. Of course the wine, women and steaks didn´t hurt either.
I´ve had the travel bug for as long as I can remember. When I was young my parents moved around a bit and my Dad was always travelling for work. I suppose that´s where it comes from. But there´s been something different about Latin America. Of all the places I´ve ever visited, this is where I´ve felt the most at home. Maybe it´s just because I´m spending more time looking right now.
I´m kinda done with Rio and Brazil in general. I can´t actually believe I´m saying that, but it´s true. Beautiful city, wonderful people, but I´m just kinda done. I haven´t really learned much Portuguese down here, but my Spanish has improved. I´ve been looking forward to settling down in Buenos Aires for a bit. Finding a language school to attend, taking some dance lessons, renting an apartment for two months or so. Bill says he´s going to come down to visit and my sister Asma is considering it too. It was nice to have Ellick and Samira meet me in Rio, hopefully this will be equally as good.
After three months of travelling I am kinda feeling like I need a bit more structure in my life. A schedule, a routine. Yes waking up every morning in Rio, hitting the suco stand for some mango juice (they have excellent mangoes here you know), lounging on the beach for a couple of hours, going for a swim and hanging out with whoever was around in the hostel has been a lot of fun. But it never really seemed like more than a vacation. My rudder seemed disconnected and even I need more of a direction than just wherever the currents take me.
They say you can´t go back home. I wonder if you can go back to Argentina? Who knows if BsAs will live up to the fantastic time I had there last year, it certainly won´t be the same. Well I´ve got my ticket bought for this tuesday, so I suppose I´ll find out then.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
All things come to pass
It finally happened. I have gone through another pair of sunglasses. I really liked this last pair. But I always lose my sunglasses, it seems inevitable. Actually this time I didn’t lose them. Just one of the screws holding the glasses together came lose, and I lost the screw.
I could see it getting loose for about a week before it happened. I tried everything, credit cards, thumbnails, folded up pieces of paper, but I just couldn’t find anything that would work on that tiny screw. Finally one day at the beach, I unfolded my sunglasses, the screw came out and fell into the sand, and that’s all she wrote.
Ellick told me I can just go to an optometrist and they’ll fix it. But that doesn’t sound much like something I would do. Besides I think maybe it’s time for this pair of sunglasses to go, and for me to move on to another pair. It’s a shame really because it’s a super expensive pair of RayBans.
I don’t believe in buying expensive sunglasses, mostly because I know I go through them so quickly. That’s what made this pair great. I didn’t buy them; my friend Rochelle stole them for me. Actually it’s probably more like my friend Jamie’s friend Rochelle stole them for me. But it was ok, her thievery passed Kant’s test of moral imperative therefore I always felt good about wearing those glasses.
We were all at Oktoberfest last year. And some guy kept harassing Rochelle and her partner Linnea. The guy just wouldn’t take, “no thanks, I’m a lesbian and here with my girlfriend” as an answer. And Rochelle is kind of a kleptomaniac anyways. So she stole his glasses and gave them to me. It was literally the best present I’ve ever had.
I know I’ve kinda fallen off the face of the hemisphere with some people I used to hang out with. Time ran short as I was packing up and getting ready to head off, it’s hard to keep up with people when you’re just fucking around without any real plans. Those are just excuses, but sometimes a good excuse is worth its weight in gold. I miss Jamie and her crew, we always had fun together. Maybe we’ll meet again some day on the Avenue.
I wound up buying a new pair of sunglasses. The street vendor wanted $15 Reals for them but I got him down to $10. It’s nice, got pads under the nose and the ears. There is crack in the lens that was covered by the sticker, and I didn’t see it until I got to the beach. I thought about going back and asking for another pair, but actually, this pair is fine for now. And at some point when the universe decides I need another pair, I’ll move on again.
It finally happened. I have gone through another pair of sunglasses. I really liked this last pair. But I always lose my sunglasses, it seems inevitable. Actually this time I didn’t lose them. Just one of the screws holding the glasses together came lose, and I lost the screw.
I could see it getting loose for about a week before it happened. I tried everything, credit cards, thumbnails, folded up pieces of paper, but I just couldn’t find anything that would work on that tiny screw. Finally one day at the beach, I unfolded my sunglasses, the screw came out and fell into the sand, and that’s all she wrote.
Ellick told me I can just go to an optometrist and they’ll fix it. But that doesn’t sound much like something I would do. Besides I think maybe it’s time for this pair of sunglasses to go, and for me to move on to another pair. It’s a shame really because it’s a super expensive pair of RayBans.
I don’t believe in buying expensive sunglasses, mostly because I know I go through them so quickly. That’s what made this pair great. I didn’t buy them; my friend Rochelle stole them for me. Actually it’s probably more like my friend Jamie’s friend Rochelle stole them for me. But it was ok, her thievery passed Kant’s test of moral imperative therefore I always felt good about wearing those glasses.
We were all at Oktoberfest last year. And some guy kept harassing Rochelle and her partner Linnea. The guy just wouldn’t take, “no thanks, I’m a lesbian and here with my girlfriend” as an answer. And Rochelle is kind of a kleptomaniac anyways. So she stole his glasses and gave them to me. It was literally the best present I’ve ever had.
I know I’ve kinda fallen off the face of the hemisphere with some people I used to hang out with. Time ran short as I was packing up and getting ready to head off, it’s hard to keep up with people when you’re just fucking around without any real plans. Those are just excuses, but sometimes a good excuse is worth its weight in gold. I miss Jamie and her crew, we always had fun together. Maybe we’ll meet again some day on the Avenue.
I wound up buying a new pair of sunglasses. The street vendor wanted $15 Reals for them but I got him down to $10. It’s nice, got pads under the nose and the ears. There is crack in the lens that was covered by the sticker, and I didn’t see it until I got to the beach. I thought about going back and asking for another pair, but actually, this pair is fine for now. And at some point when the universe decides I need another pair, I’ll move on again.
Friday, March 03, 2006
What’s the plan, Stan?
By the time I finally rolled out of bed, Ellick had already taken off and gotten breakfast, checked the internet and argued with our apartment people. I was still lounging around in my boxers when he got back. “So what’s the plan for the day” he asked me? “Well I was thinking of going to the beach, and then getting some food” I replied. I love a well developed plan.
Ellick liked the idea, but thought we needed some more details. “What beach? How do we get there? What are we doing afterwards?” Then things got complicated.
It results in plans being made quickly and efficiently. Of course, sometimes the plan is completely crazy, as you can tell by looking around South America. But other times they come up with great ideas. Like selling food in restaurants per kilo, or having a seperate driver and ticket-taker on the bus.
Usually the conversations start with "Well we could go to Barra da Tijuca or Copacabana or Flamengo and here are all the relative merits of those choices, but I have no opinion on which one we should choose" This is invariably a lie. The game begins with the other party being forced to probe and determine which one of those options is in actuality the correct. South American woman also seem to like to play this game, but maybe that's just universal to women.
And then someone else says “Yeah but it’s kinda hot today” when what they really mean is “I don’t want to take the bus” And then you spend 15 minutes talking about if it’s hot or not, and you finally figure out that they’re cool with it as long as you take a taxi.
And then eventually when all the information is out on the table someone finally says “let’s go to the beach at Barra de Tijucu.” Plans are evil, I say just live in the moment and do whatever sounds like a good idea at any given time. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?
By the time I finally rolled out of bed, Ellick had already taken off and gotten breakfast, checked the internet and argued with our apartment people. I was still lounging around in my boxers when he got back. “So what’s the plan for the day” he asked me? “Well I was thinking of going to the beach, and then getting some food” I replied. I love a well developed plan.
Ellick liked the idea, but thought we needed some more details. “What beach? How do we get there? What are we doing afterwards?” Then things got complicated.
Ellick: “Should we take the bus?”The thing I’ve noticed about planning is we seem to spend more time on talking about making the plan, than actually making the plan. I think because our approach is backwards. My South American friends actually do kind of make plans. Someone will randomly say something like “Let’s take a cab to Lapa” and then you have a plan. And when it’s a big group of people sometimes two or three people in the group will talk amongst each other and come up with something. You make sure everyone is cool with it and then if anyone objects, you talk about it.
Kashif: “Do you mean the collectivo or the micro-bus?
Ellick: “The bus”
Kashif: “Well they call the bus the collectivo, and then there are the tiny little micro-busses
Ellick: “Where do we catch it?”
Kashif: “Well we get the collectivo on Av. Copacabana and the micro-bus near the beach”
Ellick: “Lets take the bus to somewhere near the shopping mall and the beach”
Kashif: “You mean the collectivo?”
Ellick: “I mean the bus!”
Kashif “I’m gonna go take a shower now”
It results in plans being made quickly and efficiently. Of course, sometimes the plan is completely crazy, as you can tell by looking around South America. But other times they come up with great ideas. Like selling food in restaurants per kilo, or having a seperate driver and ticket-taker on the bus.
Usually the conversations start with "Well we could go to Barra da Tijuca or Copacabana or Flamengo and here are all the relative merits of those choices, but I have no opinion on which one we should choose" This is invariably a lie. The game begins with the other party being forced to probe and determine which one of those options is in actuality the correct. South American woman also seem to like to play this game, but maybe that's just universal to women.
And then someone else says “Yeah but it’s kinda hot today” when what they really mean is “I don’t want to take the bus” And then you spend 15 minutes talking about if it’s hot or not, and you finally figure out that they’re cool with it as long as you take a taxi.
And then eventually when all the information is out on the table someone finally says “let’s go to the beach at Barra de Tijucu.” Plans are evil, I say just live in the moment and do whatever sounds like a good idea at any given time. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?
Here comes the sun
It last day of Carnaval, and Ellick and I decided we should hit some clubs. This unfortunately meant I’d have to put on socks. I haven’t worn socks in this country as of yet, so this was a big deal. In fact the last time I wore socks was in Panama and even that was only because I was hiking through the rain forest.
But the socks went on. So did shoes and a t-shirt. I think I’ve decided I’d prefer to live somewhere where all of these items are truly optional. After all of our research we had heard about some club in Copacabana that was supposed to be great. Of course when we got there it turned out to be closed. No worries, we moved on the Plan B, which was another club in another part of town. The cabbie dropped us off somewhere with a lot of people gathering in front of a club.
Ok, this will work, we thought. After waiting behind the velvet rope for a ½ hour we figured out this wasn’t the place we were trying to find, but it had the distinct advantage of being right in front of us, so we decided to go in. The place was the size of Ellick’s condo in Seattle and packed! Music was good, people were beautiful, but after a while we had to escape and check out another club, which turned out to be even more ridiculous. You see some pretty crazy things on the dance floor in Rio during Fat Tuesday.
By 5 in the morning we were back in the apartment (Did you like how I just fast-forwarded there? I promised Ellick that what happens in Rio stays in Rio!) We had both just about decided to head to bed when we started to notice it was getting light out. Might as well stay up and catch the sunrise over the ocean, huh? While watching the first rays of light I got the great idea to go for a dip.
Ellick told me I shouldn’t go. There was literally no one on the beach, I’d been up all night doing my best Rock Star impression, the water was cold and I’d probably get a cramp. But sometimes I get ideas in my head, and no ones going to talk me out of them. Sometimes I just decide to do something, and that’s just the way it’s going to be. Not too often, usually I’m pretty flexible, but sometimes.
The water turned out to be perfect. I stretched out beforehand so I wasn’t too worried about cramping up. I met a nice Brazilian mom and daughter who happily agreed to watch my stuff while I basked in the morning light. It’s not too often you get an entire ocean to yourself, especially at the Copacabana.
Turns out the secret to floating is to just relax and let go. Trust the water to do what it does. Don’t fight it, let it carry you, don’t struggle. And inevitably when you hit some waves and get some water in your mouth, don’t panic and just know that that’s everything is going to be ok.
It last day of Carnaval, and Ellick and I decided we should hit some clubs. This unfortunately meant I’d have to put on socks. I haven’t worn socks in this country as of yet, so this was a big deal. In fact the last time I wore socks was in Panama and even that was only because I was hiking through the rain forest.
But the socks went on. So did shoes and a t-shirt. I think I’ve decided I’d prefer to live somewhere where all of these items are truly optional. After all of our research we had heard about some club in Copacabana that was supposed to be great. Of course when we got there it turned out to be closed. No worries, we moved on the Plan B, which was another club in another part of town. The cabbie dropped us off somewhere with a lot of people gathering in front of a club.
Ok, this will work, we thought. After waiting behind the velvet rope for a ½ hour we figured out this wasn’t the place we were trying to find, but it had the distinct advantage of being right in front of us, so we decided to go in. The place was the size of Ellick’s condo in Seattle and packed! Music was good, people were beautiful, but after a while we had to escape and check out another club, which turned out to be even more ridiculous. You see some pretty crazy things on the dance floor in Rio during Fat Tuesday.
By 5 in the morning we were back in the apartment (Did you like how I just fast-forwarded there? I promised Ellick that what happens in Rio stays in Rio!) We had both just about decided to head to bed when we started to notice it was getting light out. Might as well stay up and catch the sunrise over the ocean, huh? While watching the first rays of light I got the great idea to go for a dip.
Ellick told me I shouldn’t go. There was literally no one on the beach, I’d been up all night doing my best Rock Star impression, the water was cold and I’d probably get a cramp. But sometimes I get ideas in my head, and no ones going to talk me out of them. Sometimes I just decide to do something, and that’s just the way it’s going to be. Not too often, usually I’m pretty flexible, but sometimes.
The water turned out to be perfect. I stretched out beforehand so I wasn’t too worried about cramping up. I met a nice Brazilian mom and daughter who happily agreed to watch my stuff while I basked in the morning light. It’s not too often you get an entire ocean to yourself, especially at the Copacabana.
Turns out the secret to floating is to just relax and let go. Trust the water to do what it does. Don’t fight it, let it carry you, don’t struggle. And inevitably when you hit some waves and get some water in your mouth, don’t panic and just know that that’s everything is going to be ok.
The Tick
There was this cartoon I really used to like, called “The Tick.” It was about this guy who was a tick. But not any normal tick mind you, a human-sized, super-strong Tick. He lived in a city full of superheroes and supervillans and kinda bumbled around but somehow always managed to save the day. His sidekick was a moth named Arthur. A lot of you probably have heard of it, it was a comic book, and then a cartoon and finally a live-action TV series for a while. I really dug the cartoon.
I’ve got this tick of my own. It started under my right eye. But at this point it’s moved to both eyes, upper and lower. I think it’s at the point where some people have noticed it. I used to think it was just the stress of work that caused it, but I haven’t worked for over two months and the tick is getting worse. I watch it run amok in the mirror sometimes.
I wonder where it comes from. Repressed childhood memories? The first visible evidence of a shattered sense of sanity? I worry about becoming like Raskolnikov from “Crime and Punishment” Absorded in my own sense of superiority that I lose contact with the rest of the world. Torn apart by alienation from humanity. Maybe it’s just a tick.
But I think I know where that neurotic path leads me. I can avoid the anxiety that life presents me with, avoid being a person by slipping into madness. Everyone is searching for a path towards immortality. Whether it’s through love and family, god and heaven, heroism and fame or whatever else provides a sense of personal fulfillment. It takes courage to define ones own existence. It’s easier to be the sheep than the shepard. But it’s the Shepard who has to guide his flock.
There was this cartoon I really used to like, called “The Tick.” It was about this guy who was a tick. But not any normal tick mind you, a human-sized, super-strong Tick. He lived in a city full of superheroes and supervillans and kinda bumbled around but somehow always managed to save the day. His sidekick was a moth named Arthur. A lot of you probably have heard of it, it was a comic book, and then a cartoon and finally a live-action TV series for a while. I really dug the cartoon.
I’ve got this tick of my own. It started under my right eye. But at this point it’s moved to both eyes, upper and lower. I think it’s at the point where some people have noticed it. I used to think it was just the stress of work that caused it, but I haven’t worked for over two months and the tick is getting worse. I watch it run amok in the mirror sometimes.
I wonder where it comes from. Repressed childhood memories? The first visible evidence of a shattered sense of sanity? I worry about becoming like Raskolnikov from “Crime and Punishment” Absorded in my own sense of superiority that I lose contact with the rest of the world. Torn apart by alienation from humanity. Maybe it’s just a tick.
But I think I know where that neurotic path leads me. I can avoid the anxiety that life presents me with, avoid being a person by slipping into madness. Everyone is searching for a path towards immortality. Whether it’s through love and family, god and heaven, heroism and fame or whatever else provides a sense of personal fulfillment. It takes courage to define ones own existence. It’s easier to be the sheep than the shepard. But it’s the Shepard who has to guide his flock.
Lies that life is black and white
Samira, Ellick and I woke up right about the same time. Pretty amazing considering that Samira and I were out till all hours of the night at the street party at Lapa, and Ellick went to bed early because of his upset tummy. That’s the problem with traveling, you always get sick.
The street party in Lapa was great. We joined a group of folks at the hostel organized by the frat boys from the Univeristy of Washington. Amazing who you run into on vacation. And they are all tall, which comes in handy when 20 of you are trying to find each other in a crowd of 15,000. Josh would just raise his can of Skol in the air and shout “follow the beer!” and we’d all know where to go. By 3 in the morning Josh had followed too much of the beer and Samira was now nicknamed “Poopy Foot” after her traumatic experience in the bathroom. The party hadn’t stopped but it was time to go.
The next afternoon as we were all hanging out in our living room Ellick and Samira decided we needed a plan. There were so many things that needed to be done. An agenda, a schedule, maybe a white board. I said lets to go the beach and figure it out from there.
I laid in the shade while Ellick and Samira debated what was to be done. “We should make a booking for tickets to the sambadrome” Samira said. “Yeah and we should check the internet and research which balls to go to” Ellick added. Bookings? Research? These are words that have fallen out of my vocabulary in the last couple of months. Nobody seemed to like my “plan” of just hanging out and seeing what happens later.
I’ve decided I like this whole extremely laid-back life style. Not having actual places to be at specific times. In fact as much of a plan as I’ve had in the last 2 months is that I had to be in Rio during Carnaval, but that was about it. I’m starting to understand it’s not for everyone. Some people are just much happier knowing what will happen and when it will happen.
Eventually the two of them guilted me into getting up out of the sand and heading back to the apartment. I don’t think just lounging on the beach all day is their idea of fun. Guess it’s not for everyone, but I’ve been pretty content doing this for a while. Of course I am starting to peel. Karma is a total bitch. I’ve spent many years making fun of my white friends who always complain about sunburns and peeling, and after 10 days in the Brazilian sun I’m having the same problem, although it actually isn’t too bad.
Back at the homestead various organizational options were discussed. Samira threatened to make a list at one point and I finally had to put my foot down. I’ll be damned if any lists are going to be made on my vacation. Ok, it may not be a vacation, more like an extended voyage, but still, no lists! But we needed to know where we were going, weigh the various options, their advantages and disadvantages and come up with contingency plans.
We decided dinner first, one of our regular por kilo places. Ellick and Samira have both had some health issues down here. Ellick’s stomach has been bothering him, and while I’ve avoided most of the temptation I still occasionally mock him for chiding me about eating the shrimp sold on the beach. And Samira has something going on with the heat and her feet, but I think that’s just the ill-effects from “Poopy Foot”.
Finally we decided that Samira and I would check out what the folks at the hostel were doing, and report back to Ellick while he lounged for a bit. We’d go find this party after all. The hostel is always fun, people are always social, everyone is hanging out trying to get something started. Tonight was similar, but it so happened to be over-run with Aussies, the English and of course us folks from the Good Ole’ US. All of the Latin Americans had left already because everything was too damn expensive during Carnaval.
Ok, I’ll admit it. Those of you reading between the lines have probably already figured this out. I’ve decided I prefer my Latin American friends to the “westerners” I’ve met. Simply, they’re more fun and they’re better people. Not everyone obviously, people are still people, but there is something about this whole continent where everyone seems to enjoy themselves, no matter what other problems they got going on. I’m sorry folks from the US, I’ve just changed as a person. I’ve found someone else who matches my personality better. I hope we can still be friends. You see it’s not you guys, it’s me really.
Well at the hostel we ran into Karin and Flaco, the Argentineans, and my last two friends South American friends left in Brazil. They had just come back from their trip to Ihla Grande. It was beautiful they told me, you have to go! The water is perfectly clear! But unfortunately for them, it turned out that the hostel had no space left. Actually no one in the city had any space left. They just needed a place to crash for the night until their flight tomorrow. “Well come over to our place” I invited them, “we got two empty sofas you can sleep on and it sure beats the beach.”
I was a little concerned that Samira and Ellick wouldn’t be too hot about this idea. But they were very cool. Flaco only speak a little English (mostly lyrics to Doors and Rolling Stones songs, with some Bob Marley thrown in for good measure). Karin’s English is OK, but she also speaks French. But Ellick speaks some Spanish, and Samira some French. Somehow we all managed to get along, I got to play translator which was fun. We just sat back and took it easy, ate, drank and shared what we had. Headed to the beach and talked, drank some more. I felt like our plan had worked out perfectly, even though this event wasn’t on any of our schedules.
There are two types of people in the world. Those that need to know when and where the party starts, and those that don’t worry about it because the party is always where they are. Actually there are more kinds than that, and I know that because I’m not either one. But maybe those are the two extremes on the spectrum, and I’m starting to gravitate more and more towards the one end.
Samira, Ellick and I woke up right about the same time. Pretty amazing considering that Samira and I were out till all hours of the night at the street party at Lapa, and Ellick went to bed early because of his upset tummy. That’s the problem with traveling, you always get sick.
The street party in Lapa was great. We joined a group of folks at the hostel organized by the frat boys from the Univeristy of Washington. Amazing who you run into on vacation. And they are all tall, which comes in handy when 20 of you are trying to find each other in a crowd of 15,000. Josh would just raise his can of Skol in the air and shout “follow the beer!” and we’d all know where to go. By 3 in the morning Josh had followed too much of the beer and Samira was now nicknamed “Poopy Foot” after her traumatic experience in the bathroom. The party hadn’t stopped but it was time to go.
The next afternoon as we were all hanging out in our living room Ellick and Samira decided we needed a plan. There were so many things that needed to be done. An agenda, a schedule, maybe a white board. I said lets to go the beach and figure it out from there.
I laid in the shade while Ellick and Samira debated what was to be done. “We should make a booking for tickets to the sambadrome” Samira said. “Yeah and we should check the internet and research which balls to go to” Ellick added. Bookings? Research? These are words that have fallen out of my vocabulary in the last couple of months. Nobody seemed to like my “plan” of just hanging out and seeing what happens later.
I’ve decided I like this whole extremely laid-back life style. Not having actual places to be at specific times. In fact as much of a plan as I’ve had in the last 2 months is that I had to be in Rio during Carnaval, but that was about it. I’m starting to understand it’s not for everyone. Some people are just much happier knowing what will happen and when it will happen.
Eventually the two of them guilted me into getting up out of the sand and heading back to the apartment. I don’t think just lounging on the beach all day is their idea of fun. Guess it’s not for everyone, but I’ve been pretty content doing this for a while. Of course I am starting to peel. Karma is a total bitch. I’ve spent many years making fun of my white friends who always complain about sunburns and peeling, and after 10 days in the Brazilian sun I’m having the same problem, although it actually isn’t too bad.
Back at the homestead various organizational options were discussed. Samira threatened to make a list at one point and I finally had to put my foot down. I’ll be damned if any lists are going to be made on my vacation. Ok, it may not be a vacation, more like an extended voyage, but still, no lists! But we needed to know where we were going, weigh the various options, their advantages and disadvantages and come up with contingency plans.
We decided dinner first, one of our regular por kilo places. Ellick and Samira have both had some health issues down here. Ellick’s stomach has been bothering him, and while I’ve avoided most of the temptation I still occasionally mock him for chiding me about eating the shrimp sold on the beach. And Samira has something going on with the heat and her feet, but I think that’s just the ill-effects from “Poopy Foot”.
Finally we decided that Samira and I would check out what the folks at the hostel were doing, and report back to Ellick while he lounged for a bit. We’d go find this party after all. The hostel is always fun, people are always social, everyone is hanging out trying to get something started. Tonight was similar, but it so happened to be over-run with Aussies, the English and of course us folks from the Good Ole’ US. All of the Latin Americans had left already because everything was too damn expensive during Carnaval.
Ok, I’ll admit it. Those of you reading between the lines have probably already figured this out. I’ve decided I prefer my Latin American friends to the “westerners” I’ve met. Simply, they’re more fun and they’re better people. Not everyone obviously, people are still people, but there is something about this whole continent where everyone seems to enjoy themselves, no matter what other problems they got going on. I’m sorry folks from the US, I’ve just changed as a person. I’ve found someone else who matches my personality better. I hope we can still be friends. You see it’s not you guys, it’s me really.
Well at the hostel we ran into Karin and Flaco, the Argentineans, and my last two friends South American friends left in Brazil. They had just come back from their trip to Ihla Grande. It was beautiful they told me, you have to go! The water is perfectly clear! But unfortunately for them, it turned out that the hostel had no space left. Actually no one in the city had any space left. They just needed a place to crash for the night until their flight tomorrow. “Well come over to our place” I invited them, “we got two empty sofas you can sleep on and it sure beats the beach.”
I was a little concerned that Samira and Ellick wouldn’t be too hot about this idea. But they were very cool. Flaco only speak a little English (mostly lyrics to Doors and Rolling Stones songs, with some Bob Marley thrown in for good measure). Karin’s English is OK, but she also speaks French. But Ellick speaks some Spanish, and Samira some French. Somehow we all managed to get along, I got to play translator which was fun. We just sat back and took it easy, ate, drank and shared what we had. Headed to the beach and talked, drank some more. I felt like our plan had worked out perfectly, even though this event wasn’t on any of our schedules.
There are two types of people in the world. Those that need to know when and where the party starts, and those that don’t worry about it because the party is always where they are. Actually there are more kinds than that, and I know that because I’m not either one. But maybe those are the two extremes on the spectrum, and I’m starting to gravitate more and more towards the one end.
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