A month in the U.S.: What I miss, what I don’t miss, and what’s the same

May21

After spending so much time in the world’s driest desert, where it sometimes does not rain for decades, and the temperature barely changes from one month to the next, I have found myself absolutely amazed at how quickly the seasons come and go in the U.S. I arrived in mid-April to snow, rain and fog and barely-above-freezing temperatures. Tonight, about a month later, I stepped outside and it felt hotter than any night I ever experienced in South America even at the height of summer. Of course, I have noticed that we are very concerned about weather here in the Midwest (our local news is obsessed) and this is clearly why: it changes dramatically every day. It can also be incredibly dangerous in these parts of the world, as yesterday’s weather-related tragedies in Oklahoma reminded us.

When I was looking through my photos (most taken in the past 2 weeks) to decide what to post, I realized that already the outdoors looks different: the leaves have fully emerged and the tulips are all gone, replaced by fragrant lilacs and lily of the valley. (They’re so different than the cactus or succulent flowers that I grew accustomed to in recent months, which more or less bloom throughout the year in Northern Chile.) There’s a certain frenzy to the flowers here, as they seem to know their days are numbered and they emerge in aggressively showy and fragrant displays.

What have I been doing? Well, I’ve been acclimating to a very different pace of life, in some ways quieter (no live music outside my window at midnight), and in some ways busier (why is it that there’s always something to do, see, watch?)

Someone asked me on Twitter a week ago if I missed the desert. I can say that I do not. The desert did not agree with me, and I like the sounds and color and madness of the endless green land of Michigan (even if it is home to many unpleasant creatures – I got bitten by a tick a few nights ago, a most unpleasant experience).

So, do I miss anything about South America? Well, I actually miss a few things, besides, of course, a few of my friends that I made there and its wine. I was actually surprised that I missed some of these things:

Spanish. This is the bane of my existence in Chile because I am not close to being fluent, but also, I sort of got used to hearing the rhythms of the language every day. When I am in stores here, I am still – even a month later – startled when hearing almost everyone speaking English, which seems harsh and feels odd, like I’m an eavesdropper, because I can understand everything anyone is saying. When I do hear Spanish speakers around town, I actually find the sound soothing. I also wonder if my brain just got so used to tuning into other languages that it misses the mental exercise every day. Now, this will be alleviated when I return to Montreal next week. I believe I am simply used to hearing romance languages and I will definitely be surrounded by French before I know it.
I thought I’d be excited to eat my first donut in nearly a year but the experience was completely unsatisfactory. I blame the absolutely divine Argentinian pastries I had back in January. Argentinian pastries called facturas - sold for less than 50 cents apiece at any corner bakery in Buenos Aires – are basically the best thing ever. They are essentially a light, flaky pastry like a croissant, stuffed with something amazing like cream or fruit or dulce de leche, then cooked in a very hot oven so they are just a little crispy on the outside and very soft inside. Then some of them are sprinkled with sugar or cinnamon sugar. I ate like 3 a day when I was in Buenos Aires. My goal when I return to Montreal is to see if I can find anyone there who sells these things. There are Argentinians in Montreal: my theory is that there must be Argentinian facturas somewhere.
The avocados. They simply have much more flavor and are creamier.
Sitting on the beach listening to too-loud music while drinking a caipriñha. Well, okay. I knew I’d miss that.

There are tons of things I don’t miss, though. On the top of my head, the biggest reliefs about being home in North America are:

Not having to spend 8 hours cooking a meal because so many things are readily available, pre-prepared, and the right kitchen utensils are also available. The ovens are also hotter and more reliable here.
I can speak the language fluently, which means I can always be understood by other people, so yay for that.
Not getting a stomach bug approximately every 14 days. Yeah… the food/water/general environment/etc. definitely sits with me better here.
The joys of online shopping. I mean… the Fedex guy arrives with it right. at. your. door. Like, 2 days later.
Going to the grocery store and it always has everything you need. Not every item was always in stock back in Chile. All of the essentials were, but I’d often have to wait months for my favorite kinds of crackers, pasta sauce or spices like nutmeg, chile powder or even cinnamon to be back in stock.

And then there are some things that are the same no matter where I go, so I can’t miss them:

Insects. I used to complain all of the time about the cockroaches and mosquitos in summer in Chile but then we have ticks and mosquitos here in the spring. Same difference. In fact, I think I prefer the random roach to the random tick.
Grumpy and rude, or sweet and kind people… they can be found all over the world.
Chocolate is delicious no matter where you are.
The Internet is the same everywhere. I love logging on to Twitter in Santiago and then logging on to the same Twitter the next morning after a flight in Dallas. I mean, stop and think about it for a moment…it really is a miracle.

Well, that is all for now! I will be back in two weeks when I am back in Montreal. I am going to continue blogging, but I have some plans to revamp a few things around here, so stay tuned. I can’t wait to feature one of my favorite cities in the world, and at the nicest time of year, too! La belle province in June… à bientôt!

What I’ve “packed up” from my travels

Apr23

Last week was filled with whirlwind travels. My husband and I once again ventured into the El Loa region of Chile to the village of San Pedro de Atacama. There, we explored ruins from a 12th century settlement and rode horseback through cliffs and valleys, enjoying a spectacular sunset over the Andes mountains and several volcanoes towards the end of the ride. I can’t wait to share more about this mini trip with you next week, as soon as I upload some of my photos!

Then, I returned to Antofagasta to pack up months’ worth of things into 2 suitcases under the 50 lb weight restriction imposed by the airlines, and a day later hopped a plane (or three) to the United States.

It was so refreshing to arrive back in my home country, the U.S., after months and months away. I used to get reverse culture shock when I was away from home for too long, but I can’t say it’s really a problem anymore. The only thing I am “out of practice” with is checking out at the grocery store: I am much slower than the other customers and since a lot of my bank cards expired while I was away (I haven’t yet gotten my mail in Canada) I have been using cash, which I guess is just something that’s not done around here anymore judging from the impatient sighs of the people behind me in line when I start counting out my change.

I will continue to blog at least weekly. In a few weeks, I will be returning to Canada and intend on making this a more Montreal-centric blog. However, my travels are far from over so if you are interested in continuing to follow me around to different places, you still will be able to!

Packing up

A week or so ago, as I looked out across the sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean in Chile, almost completely white and ice-blue in the intense 4pm sunlight, my mind wandered from what to pack in my luggage to return to North America for a few months to what I will really take with me when I leave Latin America. Things that I learned. Things that aren’t so easily purchased, folded, and packed.

Joseph Campbell once said that learning to live is much more important than learning the reason for living. I would say that this is what has happened during my time abroad. I think many people who go abroad are seeking some truth or meaning in life, but I think the most you can hope for is to learn how to function better in life. (Full disclosure: as you know, I am not someone who has spent time in Latin America for this reason; I was pulled out of North America because of my husband’s career, so my reasons coming here were a little different. Perhaps that affected the results of my journey.) If I could tell anyone who wanted to escape their home or country one piece of advice, it’s that moving to another country is not an escape from reality – especially in this day in age where technology means that our worlds follow us wherever we go. So don’t go abroad expecting to “escape it all.” In fact, life will probably be much, much harder abroad than you ever bargained for, for so many reasons. Instead, go and expect to learn how to function better in the world that we all share. That is all.

Anyways, enough being didactic. I decided to make a little list of things I learned during my time in Chile. I wasn’t sure, when starting to writ the list, whether it would end up being funny or serious. Instead, I guess the best way to describe how it turned out was simply practical. It’s a list of things that I learned while here that helped me to be a more practical, pragmatic, grounded person, who survived in a new place, spent most of my time here in relatively good health, and learned a thing or two.

Just to note, I don’t know how many of these things are specific to the town where I lived. They are not necessarily representative of what someone might learn throughout Chile or Latin America. Or maybe they are. I’m not sure. They are just reflective of my experiences.

1. Eat fresh food. My brother, a bit of a foodie, recently asked me to bring him back something that Chileans would eat “every day”. I thought about what this would be: meat, seafood, fresh fruit and some vegetables, potatoes, herbs, white bread. Those are the most Chilean foods I could think of. And of course, none of those things can be packed in a suitcase or will be allowed through customs upon my arrival in the U.S. The lesson here is that the best way to experience a native diet when abroad is to buy the most locally-sourced foods possible: the things that aren’t packaged, wrapped, boxed or otherwise sealed. The most commonly consumed packaged foods in Chile, the things I probably could have taken through customs, were the most basic things we easily find in the U.S. (in fact, some of them even were from the U.S. or the same suppliers to American grocers: canned corn, dry beans and rice, lentils, hearts of palm, canned fruit, black tea, chocolate bars, potato chips, ketchup and mayonnaise.) Of course, there’s always wine I could take back, but unfortunately my luggage was already dangerously close to the weight limit!

2. Always carry a flashlight. One thing that I will always remember about Antofagasta, and all other cities I visited in South America, is how incredibly dark they are at night. Lit by the feeble orange glow of street lights, few and far in between compared to the multitude of bright white street lamps found throughout most urban centres in North America, sidewalks and streets even in the busiest urban centres like Santiago or Buenos Aires can be very, very dim. Add blackouts – not super frequent, but often enough – and I quickly learned that I need to be sure to have a flashlight with me at all times when walking around at night, especially when I am alone. Similarly, I always had a big box of matches and plenty of candles within reach at home because we seemed to lose our electricity on average once every 2-3 weeks or so.

3. Carry a small package of facial tissues in your purse, along with hand sanitizer, everywhere. This is a pretty basic rule of thumb I think for anyone travelling anywhere outside of North America (or even those travelling within rural North America). Let’s just say toilet paper and soap doesn’t always come standard, even in the relatively better-kept restrooms.

4. Women older than me are entitled to cut in front of me in line. On the other hand, I have also had girls younger than I step aside and let me go in front in line (although this is a relatively rare occurrence.) I found Chile to be a deeply matriarchal society, and also a culture that values those who are older. Combine the two with their – shall we call it, eagerness – to be in the front of a line or at the head of a crowd, waiting in line turned out to be a whole new experience. I never really got used to all of the cutting, though.

5. Personal space. What is personal space? In Chile, the closer to a stranger you are, the better. I felt like people were practically on top of me at all times – in line, on the escalator, picking out a can of beans at the store – at all times when in public. The strangest thing is, it is almost an art form. Even though people get literally right next to me, so close, they almost never end up touching me or brushing my clothes.

6. Classic, feminine fashion always wins. If you are a woman of any age and want to look good in South America, when in doubt, have long (long, long, long), flowing hair, high heeled shoes, and put on a perfectly (if not a bit tight) fitting, classic black outfit. I will never look at fashion the same after this experience: I really appreciate the attitude that clothes should be tidy, neat, clean, classic, and hug you in all of the right places. This goes for the men, too, who (aside from younger men on weekends who wear the standardshorts and a t-shirt), wear classic, crisp white shirts and dark slacks. I have to say I missed trends when I was away (few seemed to make it all the way to northern, rural Chile), but I do have a new appreciation for the classic, feminine standard of beauty that Chilean women – and most other Latin American women I saw in my travels – seemed to subscribe to.

7. The car doesn’t wait for you; you wait for the car. Pretty much self-explanatory. Where I lived, the pedestrians never had the right of way and you had to stay very, very vigilant at all times when walking places.

8. Life improves significantly if you can communicate with the locals. I emerged from South American with far-from-perfect Spanish. However, I am able to communicate with many Spanish speakers with relative ease, and I think that made all of the difference in my experience. I’d never want to spend a long time abroad anywhere unless I knew how to communicate in the native language. It’s like losing one of your senses if you cannot do it. Now that I’m back in the U.S., I’m also happy that Spanish is still such a practical and important skill here, too!

So, those are the main things I have taken away from my stays in Chile. What are some of the things you have learned when living or travelling abroad?

Roadtrip to Mano del desierto

Apr16

Right now I am making my way back to North America, but last week, I fit in a few last-minute tourist trips: the first, a short road trip into the middle of the Atacama, about 75 kilometers from Antofagasta to see a bizarre statue in the middle of nowhere. The second, a weekend in San Pedro de Atacama for relaxation and some immersion in Altiplanic culture for a few days. Now it’s time to hop on a plane and go home to the United States. (But don’t worry… I’m going to keep blogging!)

Last Tuesday a few friends and I drove into the vast desert behind Antofagasta on the historic Pan-American Highway. The highway isn’t exactly well-travelled in these parts. We were one of the few cars on the road; mainly, just a few busses and trucks go up and down these remote desert stretches.

After driving for a while, out of the absolutely empty sandy landscape that looks exactly like Tatooine (sans Stormtroopers and droids), suddenly a human hand rises as if by magic out of the barren desert.

Our traveling companion, a little Westie named Snowy, instantly hopped out of the car to investigate the strange sculpture. We wandered into the blazing heat and took a few pictures before a couple of semi trucks pulled up, spoiling our view.

I also ran out into the desert for a few photos in the vast nothingness, which I later posted on Twitter. A few people mentioned that the desert had shrunk me. It does appear to be something out of a Lewis Carroll novel, doesn’t it?

I have not found much information about the Chilean artist who constructed the statue in 1992, Mario Irarrázabal, other than that he liked to sculpt human figures. I’d like to find out why he chose this location, where so few people can witness it. As it stands, it really is not much more than a vaguely interesting stop for bored truckers and a blank canvas for graffiti. Perhaps, as well, a reminder of how small and isolated we all are in such a vast landscape.

About Quinoa

Apr10

The Altiplano, or highland desert, of Chile

The other day my friend, originally from Arequipa (in the highlands of Peru) cooked quinoa in the way that she remembers eating it when growing up, back when she used to go to the market with her family on weekends and they would scoop out the seed from barrels.

I first heard of quinoa (pronounced keen-wa) a few years ago when my sister-in-law in Canada cooked it for us. Little did I know that a few years later, when visiting the El Loa region of Chile in the Altiplano, or high altitude plains, near the Bolivian border, I would actually drive past a small, very isolated rural farm growing this grain in a field on the side of a sandy, rocky, barren hill.

This is an ancient grain (or, technically speaking, seed) that has been critical to the diets of people living in the Altiplano for millennia. What you have to understand about the Altiplano – a highland region stretching from parts of Southern Peru to parts of Bolivia and a little bit into the Chilean and Argentinian borders – is that very little grows there. Well, actually, let me rephrase that. In fact, a surprising amount grows there considering it is a dry, isolated, virtually rain-free, plant-free region of the world, with poor, sandy soil, extreme temperatures (very cold at night, very hot during the day) and intense sun.

In this highland desert of Chile, people can grow some corn, a few vegetables such as tomatoes, and herbs. They can raise some livestock (based on my observations mainly just chickens and llamas), and, at higher altitudes, they cultivate quinoa.

As you may know, quinoa has become a trendy food in North America because of its “superfood” status. It appeals to vegans or gluten free cooks because of it is a one-stop-shop for plenty nutrients. This is precisely the reason it has been such a staple food item in the Altiplano for so long: because the people living in this harsh land must have gotten a lot of their nutrients primarily from quinoa. Many people in the region still depend on it in their diet; after all, even with modern technology, it continues to be difficult to transport a wide variety of fresh, nutritious food hundreds of miles, high into a relatively isolated desert land.

Driving past a farm that cultivates quinoa, in the highlands of northern Chile

Driving past a small farm that cultivates quinoa, isolated in the vast highlands of northern Chile

Outside of the Altiplano region, quinoa doesn’t seem to be that well-known, at least in Chile. Chileans down at sea level here in Antofagasta, a mere 300 or so miles away, generally don’t know about it unless they have come across it on a vacation to the Altiplano region or in Peru.

I have been wary of quinoa ever since coming across articles about a year ago mentioning how quinoa might be responsible for an unfortunate shift in the Altiplano diet: as growers export all of their quinoa to North America, prices have reportedly been on the rise for the domestic supply and it has been said that local populations have begun to supplement their diet with cheaper, less-nutrient rich, imported options such as corn or wheat products (source). On the other hand, I have also read that the quinoa boom has been advantageous to Altiplano farmers, who are now making a lot of money off these exports, with which they can improve their quality of life (source). I’ve asked a few people who are familiar with these regions if they know what is really happening, but I haven’t found any real answers.

I suspect that the truth probably lies in a mixture of these two scenarios. I imagine local populations who are not involved in or have not benefitted from the quinoa export industry in any way may have a harder time affording quinoa for their families than they did before, and their diets must undoubtedly suffer. On the other hand, the farmers who do receive a fair price for the grain may in fact have more opportunities now to help improve their quality of life and the quality of their business. I believe the key is to somehow make sure farmers and local populations are receiving a fair price for the grain. In my opinion, it’s up to all of us to be aware consumers and sensitive to this need.

Quinoa (this was grown in Chile)

I’ve had two, presumably traditional Altiplanean, quinoa dishes. The first was in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. The quinoa was fixed like risotto: creamy with plenty of freshly ground black pepper, basil and some local herbs, mushrooms and served with a sweet tomato jelly. Bread in San Pedro is sometimes made with quinoa. I’ve even heard that sweet cakes can also be made with the grain. I’ve also been told quinoa can be stirred into soups and stews (but use less than you think you will need: it expands dramatically in liquid).

The second time I had a traditional dish was the other day with my Peruvian friend. Again, it was cooked similar to risotto. It is first cooked in water, then milk and cheese is added. She said that when she was growing up, her family used to use this as a side dish for chicken or served with stew (instead of rice).

A few days ago I tweeted that I had tried this more traditional Altiplanic dish from the very region the grain is grown, and got a few requests for a recipe on Twitter. That inspired this post. My friend does not go by a recipe; she just remembers her family’s traditional way of making it. She roughly described it to me, and then I reproduced it on my own. All of my measurements are approximate, too. It’s worth noting that I am not duplicating her recipe exactly. However, I believe this gives the sense of how quinoa is fixed in this part of the world and I am very satisfied with the results. I like this warm, creamy, risotto-style approach to quinoa and will definitely be fixing it as a light lunch or side dish in the future.

Now, here’s the recipe! Be sure to see my notes below.

Quinoa cooked with milk and cheese

Quinoa Inspired by a recipe from Arequipa, Peru

Ingredients

1 cup quinoa
2 cups water
2 garlic cloves
3/4 cup of evaporated milk**
1/2 to 3/4 cup of shredded or cubed white cheese of your choice****
Optional: flat leaf parsley, Peruvian aji amarillo powder, or a pinch of cayenne.

Directions:

Add quinoa, water, and garlic cloves to a saucepan. Bring the water to a gentle boil then simmer the quinoa in the water with the garlic cloves until cooked. (About 15 minutes.)
Take off the heat and stir in the evaporated milk. Let sit for 5 minutes, covered.
Remove the garlic cloves and stir in the cheese until melted.
Serve immediately.

Note: in “nouveau Peruvian” cuisine, more flavour is added through the addition of fresh aji amarillo (a traditional hot/sweet orange pepper used extensively in Peruvian cuisine). A sort of pesto sauce made from fresh flat leaf parsley could also be stirred in. A pinch of cayenne powder might substitute for the aji if you cannot find it.

Notes:

* The off-white variety of quinoa, which is also the most commonly found in this region and elsewhere, is the only variety my friend knew of growing up in Peru (as opposed to the red, black or other novelty varieties found on the market in North America). You may need to rinse the quinoa before cooking it; check instructions on the package.

** We cannot get fresh milk in these regions, and the irradiated milk we do get cooks strangely, which is why I suspect canned evaporated milk is used. I imagine you could use fresh half and half or whole milk instead.

*** Shredded romano or parmesan cheese would be best. A soft, bland white cheese would also work well; I used cubes of mantecoso, which is my favourite type of white cheese in Chile with a flavor similar to monterey jack.

Enjoy!

(Note: please do not reproduce this recipe elsewhere without written permission or linking directly to this post. Thanks!)

Autumn wanderings in northern Chile

Apr2

Autumn has descended in northern Chile… which really doesn’t mean much in a place that, for all intents and purposes, has no real seasons, other than the sun is setting earlier and the nights are cooler and more likely to be overcast.

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. Sunday was yet another holiday spent away from home, but until a teleportation device is invented that would transfer me effortlessly between various countries on the continent, we made the best of it on our own.

Chile is by and large a Catholic country, like most of the rest of Latin America, although there are many other religions and denominations represented within the borders. Nonetheless, Friday was a holiday, and earlier in the week I went to the cathedral in the city center to see an Easter orchestra and choir performance.

Lately my adventures have been mainly relegated between the pages of books; still working away at my master’s program. This has left very little time free for explorations and side trips. I did manage to visit a Peruvian restaurant a few weeks ago, and had some fantastic fried fish (corvina, a light white fish native to the waters off the coast of Peru and Chile). It was fried in a very light batter and topped with a simple tomato, onion and cilantro salsa, served on a bed of sautéed potatoes. How can you ever go wrong with a version of fish and chips?

And, as always, I’m still enjoying the scenery.

An Ode to Argentina

Mar14

I had another post planned for today, but then a pope was elected yesterday from Argentina and I thought I might share a few of my final thoughts about Argentina in honor of the occasion. I also figured I would take advantage of the excuse to write a bit of a “recap” of my experiences in Argentina because I don’t think I’ll be going back there for a while, as next month I plan on returning to the United States and then Canada. My South American travels will be put on hold until late this year… or perhaps even later than that… and I’d like to wrap up these next few weeks with some final posts about Chile.

So, yes, final thoughts on Argentina (at least for a while). I was still in shock after finding myself in South America in late 2011 when my husband suggested we visit Buenos Aires in October of that year. I wasn’t expecting anything, really… just another big city, and if I was lucky, I figured it might have some interesting shopping.

But it had so much more. I found inspiration that literally changed my life: it made me realize that I wanted to go back to school just so I could write about the discoveries I had stumbled upon in Buenos Aires. The stories, the history, the architecture, the politics, the people, all had inspired me in such a deep way. I had known I wanted to go back to school to get a master’s for years, but ever since I graduated from my bachelor’s I had been searching for what I really wanted to study. Finally, after my trip in 2011, I decided to study Community Development and write a history involving some research on Argentina. (Now you can find me at my desk 12-14 hours a day doing just that.)

I know I have spent relatively little time in Argentina and most certainly do not know it like someone who would have spent longer there – not to mention someone who grew up there or was from there. Other than that week in Buenos Aires (with a quick jaunt to the rural pampas), I spent a long weekend there in May 2012, a week in Cordoba, Argentina in October 2012 and a week in Buenos Aires again in January 2013. But – and this, you guys, is why everyone should travel – I inexplicably connected with the country, the land, the culture, the cities, the energy, the people and even the language. I have no idea why. Truly. I don’t know why. Maybe my enthusiasm will prompt someone to take a trip there someday and afterwords comment, “what in the world was she so obsessed over?” I have no idea and I am sorry if that ends up being you. But just as I have met people who have inexplicably connected with India, Polynesia, Ireland, Italy, etc., I have found that magical connection with Argentina. It will forever be one of my favorite places visited in the world.

Perhaps I connected with their land because of my own rural, agricultural upbringing. Many people there are very proud of their agriculture, as well they should be. Their grocery stores were overflowing with lovely produce in the summer, and their gelato – made with fresh milk and cream – is the best I’ve had in the world (don’t tell Italy). They will talk to you about the weather, and intense weather it is: I have grown accustomed to the thunderstorms that the plane will inevitably fly over when crossing the flat stretch of land of the Argentinean pampas between the Andes and the Atlantic, and the deluge of rain (and subsequent floods gushing down the cobblestone streets of Recoleta) I experienced my last morning in Buenos Aires in January was epic. But I love its intensity. On a random note, I also love the smell of the trees in their woods. I don’t know why but they smell great.

Then there is the aesthetic in Argentina. The beauty of the buildings in Buenos Aires, that draw their influences from throughout Europe and around the world, transforming them and making them into their own. There’s the harshness of a rural cabin in the vast landscapes of Buenos Aires or Cordoba province, and the pastoral beauty of old country homes and estancias, looking like something transported straight out of an ancient Roman landscape, in the mountains and plains of the country. Make no mistake, this is a country with a turbulent history, and their architectural features reflect all of the good and the bad. But I think there is an undeniable beauty in that, too. And then there is the fashion aesthetic: I find their sense of style, their eye for detail, color, form and function to be incredible. You can still find carefully handmade clothes, jewelry, and handwoven textiles, crocheted and knitted pieces, which in any other country would easily quality as luxury and well out of reach of the average person, made with care by experienced hands, for reasonable prices.

They are people with stories, most of whom I always found to be helpful and welcoming and pleasant especially compared to most places I’ve been to in the world. They seem involved and active. They seem to believe in something.

I also saw, on a national level, that they had a female president, which led me down all kinds of paths in my research. Ultimately, I wonder why in North America have we had all kinds of waves of “feminism” but never a woman who held the most prestigious position in our government? (And one who is also a mother, a wife to a former president, and impeccably stylish to boot?) I’ll leave you to form your own opinions, but I assure you, I’ve formed mine.

Their history is fascinating, and as an American I felt like I could connect to it in some familiar way. Our countries have had some similar experiences, and branched away from each other in other regards. Still, discovering a history of a “cousin country” to the U.S. in the Americas, like Argentina’s, is interesting and subsequently helped me to reflect more deeply on the United States’ history.

Need I say anything about their Malbec or Torrontes wine? So lovely, especially with a bowl of pasta or a few wood-fired empanadas, or, of course, their famous juicy steaks, fired in a wood oven, seasoned with just a tiny bit of salt and pepper, and served still sizzling on your plate. I’m not a meat person – I rarely eat red meat especially – but this is enough to make me hungry whenever I think of it.

Like the hot red sunrises and sunsets I’ve come to associate with the skies of Argentina (and are immortalized in a painting I bought from an artist in Buenos Aires last year), my time there was brief but it left an indelible impression. And while someone else may not feel at all the same as I do about Argentina, I hope that you all have the chance to travel and fall in love with an unexpected place like I have.

Iglesia de los Capuchinos, Cordoba

Fine Art (literally) on the Streets of Buenos Aires

Feb28

Mural by Cuban street artist Jorge Rodriguez-Gerada in the neighbourhood of Colegiales (and a taxi cab in front)

How would you like to live in a house that is, quite literally, a work of art? I think I might.

The second walking tour I took in Buenos Aires last month was a street art walk through several Buenos Aires neighbourhoods. I once again loved going off the beaten path into a few more residential neighbourhoods to discover the vibrant gems hidden on the walls of buildings, homes and public spaces.

Exterior of a building in Palermo

Before I talk about this little adventure, I have to emphasize what a different experience I had in Buenos Aires my 3rd time around. My first two visits were whirlwind trips that really took me to a few very specific, some very touristy, “must see” spots around the city. During the third trip, it was fascinating to also be in the city during the quiet month of January – it really felt like the entire (usually hectic) city was sort of taking a siesta, taking things easy – and I relished in wandering off the beaten paths. Of course, I have still only seen a minuscule portion of the city. Like New York or Paris, you really would need months – no, years – to get a full grasp of this city.

If I had to design an ideal vacation in Argentina, I would have to make it last at least a month: one week in Buenos Aires to see all of the tourist highlights, one week in the rural pampas, one week in another, smaller (but still sizeable city like Cordoba or Mendoza, and then a final week (or two…) again in Buenos Aires to go off the beaten track. I’ll definitely keep that in mind for when I have a few spare dollars lying around…

A door on a home in Colegiales

Anyways, for my second walking tour, I first had to find a brightly-painted home in the middle of a residential neighbourhood that I’d never been to before. It was the rendez-vous for the group. I asked for directions several times (Starbucks are everywhere, and their employees and patrons were particularly pleasant to me that hot, humid afternoon as they directed me to the right place) but I still managed to get spectacularly lost in the dizzying heat and ended up hopping in a taxi for a short ride (around some construction – that was what had been tripping me up) to the right spot. I then spent four hours with the English-speaking, Argentine tour guide and a group of tourists from around the globe wandering around a the tree-lined sidewalks of neighbourhoods in the city’s barrio norte.

There are a few good street art walking tours to choose from in Buenos Aires, and I just randomly picked Graffitimundo (link here).

Exterior of a shop in Palermo Soho

As we wandered from one spectacular mural to the next, our guide also took us through the history of street art, which was different than I expected. When many of us from North America, Europe or Australia think of street “art,” also known as graffiti or tagging, we usually imagine it as an illegal (or at best frowned-upon) activity peppered with shady characters and underground artists. But, go figure, in Argentina – a country that I have grown to generally associate with art, resourcefulness and activism – “graffiti” has been elevated to a higher art form. The magnificently coloured spray painted murals on buildings, homes, and in parks? I learned that all of the murals we saw on the tour were totally legal and in fact most prominent street artists are encouraged by many homeowners, business owners and others to grace their buildings and walls with the technicolor murals.

Exterior of a restaurant, Tegui, in Palermo, Buenos Aires by artist cabaio

The art form first appeared in Buenos Aires in the 90s, when middle class youth were intrigued by the street art they saw in pictures and on tv shows of cities in the U.S. Artists from all over the world have since visited Buenos Aires to grace its walls with their work. We learned throughout the day that many artists have distinct styles and have evolved through the years. Some artists do commercial graphic design work and reserve their street art escapades as a side hobby, others are artists with studios, yet others are devoted street artists and only work on the sides of buildings, and even others are wannabe artists doodling around, hoping one day to make it big on the scene. We also got a glimpse into the fascinating culture and inner politics of the work and dynamics of painting on the street… there’s definitely much more to it than meets the eye.

Detail of Tegui restaurant building in Palermo

Detail of the Tegui restaurant building in Palermo

If you are at all interested in art or graphic design, I think that a walking tour like this is a must-do in Buenos Aires. It’s a city that has truly fostered its own brand of this constantly evolving art form. I was glad I took a tour because guides took me onto side streets, alleys and tucked-away parks where I would have never known to look. Also, this art form is not always permanent, though many pieces in Buenos Aires have been there for years; nonetheless, street art comes and goes all of the time and my guides were up-to-date about each neighbourhood’s masterpiece du jour.

Building in Palermo Soho (and a painted sidewalk, too)

If you don’t have time to take a tour, the neighbourhood of Palermo Soho has a lot of buildings with murals in its alleys (now alleys filled with little art studios and souvenir shops) in the central shopping district near Honduras and El Salvador streets. Many trendy boutiques and studios have commissioned or encouraged artists to paint their exterior walls, and there is even a bar nearby that offers workshops on making stencils and street art.

It was an interesting day and I learned a lot. It made me want to take more walking tours of street art, however, because I felt like I was only getting exposed to just a little bit of that culture in just a few select neighbourhoods. Alas, like I said earlier, Buenos Aires is a big city and I only had a little time. It was a speedy look into a many-layered art culture, but one that was worth braving the heat for nonetheless.

Eva Peron stencil in the bar/studio called “Hollywood in Cambodia”, Palermo Soho

Living history in San Telmo

Feb19

This past month has been characterized by long, languorous summer days. The heat surrounds us in Chile, radiating off of the concrete buildings and seeping into every corner of my apartment. The intense white sun is mercilessly intensified by the giant mirror of the Pacific ocean. Not much happens in February in Chile, and thus I am left with thoughts and memories from other, more action-filled days of the recent past… and schemes and hopes for the near future.

These endless, blurry summer days were kicked off, for me at least, last month during our week away, in Argentina. Although I knew we wanted to have a more laid back trip to Buenos Aires than I’d experienced other times, deciding to do several walking tours in high summer was a challenge in its own right. Still, I managed to meander along the tree-lined sidewalks for miles and miles throughout the city in the heat, fuelled by a few iced coffees and gelato along the way, of course.

Buenos Aires in summer was a strange thing. It was quiet(er than usual), with most of its population having escaped in January to its coastal resorts. This also lent the city – that feels so much like a city from another era any time of the year – an even more peculiar, “time warp” feel than usual. The downtown neighbourhoods, with a lower percentage of its residents present in the summer heat, felt even more like a city that had skipped a few decades.

It was, in that sense, the perfect time to experience one of the city’s oldest, most evocative neighbourhoods: San Telmo.

I booked a walking tour with an American-turned-expat in San Telmo, Rick. Unfortunately for us, we booked the walk on probably the hottest afternoon of the week. For a good three hours we meandered the streets and sidewalks of the shabby neighbourhood, Rick pointing out fascinating street art, places and sights that could otherwise easily (and sadly) be missed by casual passers-by.

Like many parts of Buenos Aires, San Telmo has an intriguing history. Rick recounted its history to us (I later refreshed my memory on Wikipedia before writing this post … it was a hot day after all, and thus only 1/2 of my brain cells were working!) Briefly, it was one of the first neighbourhoods in the city, home to workers and labourers who built the port city on their backs in the 17th century. It was later settled by Jesuits in the 18th century, who wanted to clean up the neighbourhood, though they left after a few decades. Then, better public infrastructure in the mid-19th century transformed the squalor of the working-class neighbourhood into a place of interest for the well-to-do of the city, who moved in and built palatial homes and buildings, modelled after those in Europe. Unfortunately for them, an epidemic swept through the neighbourhood in 1871, prompting the upper classes to flee the area and settle just north of downton in the “Barrio Norte” (where they can still be found today). They left the neighbourhood to the newly-arrived immigrants from Europe who were working in factories in the area. This multicultural flair can still be sensed in the neighbourhood today: I saw elements that were reminiscent of Italy, Britain, Ireland, France, and Russia. Flamboyant architectural detail on historic homes, churches and other buildings borrows heavily from European homelands but is given an exuberance and flair that I have come to associate with Buenos Aires. It was in this era – roughly from the turn of the last century to today – that San Telmo earned its Bohemian flavour and attracted artists and writers and settlers from around the world.

It is certainly a neighbourhood that is a product of its past. In fact, I am not sure I have ever visited a neighbourhood -in any city- that in modern times better reflects its staggeringly diverse and tumultuous history. It is still home at once to crumbling, shabby buildings that are in dire need of a fresh coat of paint – and swanky bohemian lofts and apartments built in spectacular old mansions and colonial tenements. Both the less-than-affluent and working classes (who have been here for generations) along and relatively well-to-do expats (who are entranced by its character and history) call this area home. We saw young and old alike meandering the sidewalks and sitting in cafes. It has some of the best art in the city – home to a fabulous Museum of Modern Art that we visited, and buildings decorated in the city’s trademark Filetado Porteño – and many energetic artist co-ops and workshops. On the other hand, it has some of the worst art in the city – in the form of tacky souvenir shops and overpriced antique stores.

It also has a lovely market that we stepped into (where, according to our guide, the best coffee in Buenos Aires can be found), where you can buy both dinner (fresh vegetables, fruits and meat) and some lovely antiques. The wrought iron Belle Epoque architecture of this indoor marketplace was incredible, and there were many good examples of the Filetado Porteño – a graphic style that characterizes signs and store windows, invented in the neighbourhood around the early 20th century. Rick, with his excellent artistic eye, taught us how to identify “good” specimens of Filetado Porteño.

The city has had to cope with a dark recent history, and that mark has also been left on the neighbourhood. We walked under a highway overpass, where the excavation of a former prison used in the 1970s is currently underway. Small signs underneath this highway explain the building and what it was used for. Humbling, to say the least. It’s easy to get swept up by the present-day bohemian vibe of the neighbourhood and forget what happened not that long ago.

It’s worth mentioning that you have to be careful in this neighbourhood: Rick mentioned to us that it is not unheard of for a camera to be snatched out of your hand as you walk around snapping pictures of the incredible views. Pickpocketing and muggings do happen, and he told us he wouldn’t recommend that a woman walk around alone in the area even during the day. This is in contrast to the reasonably (for a large city) safer neighbourhoods in Buenos Aires, such as Recoleta, Palermo, and even downtown. In other words, tourists might be led into a false sense of security elsewhere in the city and forget to take some common-sense precautions when visiting San Telmo.

One modern-day development in the neighbourhood is its street art. The (sanctioned) “graffiti” art is practically an institution throughout the city, especially in neighbourhoods like San Telmo that pride themselves in having an artistic vibe, and this neighbourhood had its own characteristic works of street art and artists that frequent the area (which I will elaborate on a bit more in next week’s post).

My favourite overall experience in the neighbourhood was walking past the sleepy cafes and parks once frequented by literary and artistic greats such as Jorge Luis Borges, and seeing the legendary Tango halls of the neighbourhood. These were the places that most felt like we had briefly stepped back in time. I could easily imagine a writer, poet and artist meeting up for an afternoon stroll in the park designed by the Argentine-French architect Charles Thays. It was not a stretch to picture a scene right out of a French impressionist painting playing out in this historic urban setting.

Our walk ended in early evening, when a dark grey thunderstorm cloud rolled in to give us some respite from the afternoon heat. We retired to an Irish pub frequented by expats. In the spirit of the neighbourhood and like the thinkers and artist who have haunted the streets of San Telmo for decades, Rick, some of his friends and my husband and I enjoyed some happy hour specials in the energetic little pub while comparing photos of the city and its art on our iDevices, pondering and reflecting upon the day – and expat life in South America in general – as rain and thunder pounded the cobblestone streets outside.

For more information on Rick’s San Telmo Art Walk, you can visit his website.

The Little Things (or, trip #3 to Buenos Aires)

Feb5

A flowering shrub in the Buenos Aires botanical gardens.

As you may have noticed from my last post a few weeks ago, the little details of life have been getting me down lately. From not seeing my family in a very long time, to my husband disappearing for most of the day every day to agonize over his PhD thesis and return home at the end of the day utterly exhausted, to studying at home on my own every day because there are no cafes in town to go to, at least to change the scenery… well, all of it has added up and as a result I have been prone to getting a little more frustrated than usual over many small things.

Melon and strawberry Gelato at Arkakao on Santa Fe Avenue. (Don’t tell Italy, but Argentina has amazing gelato and ice cream.)

In the bigger picture, though, I know (and am grateful) that none of these problems are insurmountable, nor are they really, truly, a big deal. They are typical life problems – albeit a bit exaggerated thanks to my current living situation, cut off by 6,000 miles from family, friends, and home.

A stained glass window in a coffee shop in Recoleta

I admire some bloggers for often making posts that focus on simple little everyday things. In fact, when I think about some of my favourite blog posts that I have seen online, it’s usually the posts about tiny details and little bits of life that leave the strongest impression on me.

Shopping in Recoleta (the sun was caught at a strange angle!)

Last month, I visited Buenos Aires again (this was my 3rd trip to the city that I have now decided is my favourite place to visit in the world). Now, Buenos Aires isn’t exactly the city that most people would equate with “little things.” It is busy, messy, smelly, fabulous, grand, spectacular, and big in every possible way. But, when I think of the reasons I like it so well, it always comes back to the special little moments I have experienced there, often generated by its people. These little moments amongst a large, chaotic city are what make the city stand out in my mind.

Sweater from said shopping trip…

Like any other place in the world, you can find anyone there, including rude and obnoxious and mean people, of course. But I have found most of its people to be overwhelmingly kind, welcoming, and warm to me, and they tend to have a particular talent for generating beautiful moments and special little memories that persist in my mind much more strongly than even the most spectacular architecture or parks or art or places or sights in the city.

Fresh basil from an Italian market. I cooked some Italian food from ingredients I can’t find in Chile.

I had one moment of mini-panic one day when I took the subte (metro) to a new part of town, where I was to join up with a walking tour. I got hopelessly lost on foot on my way to the rendezvous point, and asked directions in a Starbucks, and several ladies including a customer were very kind to me, explaining to me where I should go. But unfortunately, the road they sent me along was closed, so I walked down a different one, and got lost again. I was going to be late for my walking tour, so I finally saw and waved down a taxi – nervously, because I was told that you should only take Radio taxis in Buenos Aires and this was not a Radio taxi – and as bravely as I could told the driver where I wanted to go. Well, he treated me perfectly well, we had an excellent conversation about summer in Buenos Aires – construction season, apparently – and explained that I was having a hard time getting there because of the road closure, so he detoured around and we were there in time for my tour. He actually ended up charging me less than the metered fare.

The result of shopping on Santa Fe avenue: new shoes (they were on sale!) I love the shoes made in Argentina.

The best moment of the week, however, was in fact quite simple but actually grand in its own way. I needed to visit a library for my graduate research. I ended up visiting the Eva Peron Historical Research Foundation’s library and spent some time talking with its incredibly kind and helpful librarian. Along with my husband and another scholar, I spent the better part of the afternoon there. It was helpful, interesting, and enlightening to be there, surrounded by people who are passionate about actively preserving a part of Argentinean (and world) history.

A trip to Argentina isn’t complete without empanadas for dinner (we had them twice). Baked in a wood oven!

Most of the week was surprisingly simple: taking walking tours, shopping along Santa Fe Avenue in Recoleta and in Palermo, eating steak with my husband at a parilla restaurant with an outdoor terrace, eating facturas (glorious pastries) every morning washed down with really nice coffee, buying flowers from a sidewalk vendor, meandering through the Recoleta cemetery, through parks and a museum or two. January was the month that most Porteños take off for the coast for their summer holidays, so many locals told me it was quiet and slower than usual. The weather was warm and humid, though pleasant at night. On the last morning we were there, there was a fairly powerful rainstorm which I, naturally, got caught in and my clothes were soaked, but I didn’t really mind. It was, after all, the small, unplanned moments that made the week so lovely.

A little break

Jan15

You know you PROBABLY need to step back and just take a deep breath when you start to get irritable and annoyed whenever you step foot outside of your apartment. This, it appears, is a common problem amongst people who spend too much time outside of their home country; many of my acquaintances in Chile have admitted to also growing impatient too quickly after being away from home for too long.

I think my lowest moment was about 2 weeks ago when I was so angry after a trip to the grocery store. I was mad about tiny, tiny, unimportant things experienced on that particular outing (like several of the products being improperly labelled without prices, women cutting in line, lines being too long to begin with, not enough air conditioning in the store… I wish Chile would learn the joys of actually putting price tags on items and offering self checkout options!) …were these a big deal and worth spending 2 hours fuming over? No. But that is what happens when you spend a little too long in a foreign country. I might label this brand of impatience as some sort of homesickness. The best remedy would probably be to just get out of town for a while, if packing up and heading home is out of the question.

So, since it is summer and everything has slowed down a lot in Latin America, we ARE getting out of town for a short while and I am taking a bit of a breather from this blog. I try to keep things positive on here, but I need a bit of a break before I continue. I hope to return with a fresh perspective. I plan on posting again in about two weeks. Until then, take care, and feel free to follow me on Twitter and Instagram (username operarose) as I will continue to update those.

P.S. I have recently received a lot of emails from visitors to this blog who are looking for more information about traveling, long term stays, and living in Chile and Argentina. While I try to answer questions to the best of my abilities and based on my own (limited) experience, I do not always have the answers. Inspired in part by this, however, I have begun working with an expat in Antofagasta, Chile on a new website for expats and long term visitors to Chile, which will also include some practical information about traveling in Chile, Argentina, and elsewhere in South America. I am excited to be working on this project and look forward to sharing it on here as soon as the site is live and active!

Postcards from Amanda

A chronicle of travels in Chile, Canada and beyond | www.postcardsfromamanda.com

Tag Archives: travel