Beattys Overseas

We flew from Chile to Argentina on Valentine's Day.  The day wasn't especially romantic until much later in the evening, and I'll tell you why.  When we checked into the Santiago airport, we went to the fancy VIP lounge for passengers with Business or First Class tickets. 
Reception desk at the VIP loungeJohn loves these lounges, as anyone would, with free food, soft drinks & spirits, occasionally free WiFi, big comfy leather couches and lots of space between people.  When a passenger checks into the lounge, they give their ticket to the receptionist, who notes which flight you're on, so that later, when your flight is boarding, she'll make an announcement within the lounge that you should go to your gate.  It's supposed to make for an extremely easy airport experience.  But the LAN lounge at Santiago seemed a little disorganized.... The receptionist dropped the ball, and seemingly forgot to announce our flight.  When it was 12 minutes until we were supposed to go wheels-up, I went to the desk to inquire (assuming that it must be delayed, since she hadn't announced anything).  She looked panic-stricken and made a hasty announcement [only in Spanish] about our flight.  I took that as a cue to run.

We breathily arrived to the gate where the jetway doors were closed and the ticket agent had to make 2 phone calls before letting us board.  When we got into the cabin, we saw that the whole plane was settled and ready for takeoff, even a woman sitting in John's seat, thinking that the seats were empty.  I sat next to her and kicked her out with a snotty stare, even though I was mortified that I was the late person who held everyone up.  Still fuming, I ranted to John about how you can never depend on anyone to take care of you, and we should no longer trust those bubblehead VIP receptionists to keep our track of our travels.  So, imaginably, the day was not very romantic with this drama...

Upon arriving at the Buenos Aires airport, we had a few more ridiculous obstacles to face.  First, we had to access an ATM to get US Dollar cash to present upon checking into our apartment rental.  We found a great little studio apartment to rent for the our 19-day stay, but as the company operates in US Dollars, we had to present US cash at check in.  We were told that ATMs dispense both US and Argentine money.  Not true, but we had to find that out after 4 attempts by each our bank cards at four cash machines in the airport.  Finally, I decided to withdrawl Argentine Pesos, and the bills practically were spat out of the machine.  Then, we waited in line at the Currency Exchange booth to transfer these pesos into US dollars. 

Catching one of BA's signature Black & yellow taxis at the airportBy the time we got to the taxi line, we were equally agitated with the system and each other.  In typical fashion, we were bombarded by young men at the taxi line (who I still can't figure out whether they're airport employees or unofficial swindlers) offering to help us obtain a cab.  The first guy already threw my suitcase into the trunk of a taxi when the cabbie told us hat a ride to the Recoleta neighborhood would cost 950 pesos.  He did this in Spanish, so I had to do the quick mental translation before practically screaming, "Nine Hundred and Fifty pesos???  That's like Three Hundred Dollars!!!!!"  Furious, yet relieved that we were denying that crook any more attention, we grabbed my case and followed a 15-year old boy in a soccer jersey to another cab with the promise of a 70 peso ride.  Seventy pesos is about 22 dollars.  That's more like it, although it actually felt too little, once we were in the car and realized the driving distance was similar to that of JFK to the Upper West Side. 

Anyway, when we were finally at our Buenos Aires destination, a lovely and modest apartment building with the apartment's owner, Augusto, standing there with a smile, we started to relax.  Augusto (who recently moved back to Argentina after living in Northern California!!!) brought us into the welcome sight of a pristine little studio apartment in Buenos Aires' version of NYC's Upper East Side neighborhood.  Recoleta is actually more beautiful than any neighborhood in New York, I think, but with a population of similar wealthy old folks, rich yuppy couples and hot young debutante-types. 

John had visited the "Paris of the Southern Hemisphere" two years ago, but I've never been.  So I read of few things in my Lonely Planet book about Buenos Aires before arriving; things that were quite obvious upon walking around later that night:

1. Buenos Aires is a late-night city.  Most people go out for dinner instead of eating at home, and the average sit-down time in 11pm.  This includes weekdays.

2. Buenos Aires inhabitants (especially those in Recoleta, it seems) are obsessed with image. They are very conscious about their appearance, dressing up everyday [no shorts, few T-shirts and never without a perfectly coiffed hairdo]. This obsession with looks has given Argentina one of the highest rates of plastic surgery in the world.

3. The city's architecture is practically a narrated timeline for the country's growth from late-14th when Portuguese explorers arrived to mid-19th centuries, when a flood of European immigrants settled in this city.  The buildings - especially in the ritzy area where we're staying - resemble those of Paris.  Hence, the nickname (stated above).

Valentine's dinner in a surprisingly deserted jointOur Valentine's Day night picked up when we went out for dinner at 11:45pm, and were recommended by a waiter to a dancing club in another neighborhood called Puerto Madero.  The club, Asia d Cuba, was a little 'techno' and (dare I say it?) too young for me, but John enjoyed getting his dance on.  We hopped in another cab and went to Palermo, perhaps B.A.'s most of-the-moment hip barrio, looking for another place to dance with better music.  Instead, we found a corner cantina with a couple from Santiago to chat with.  It was a late night, about 4am, and went to sleep until well into the next day.  So far, we're still having trouble adjusting to the time here.  It's both a left-over jetlag that we can't shake from the New Zealand-to-Chile change, but also this town's late night hours are trying.  I don't know how these folks do it; the city seems abuzz the next morning at 8am, just like any American metropolitan city. They must all be very tired.  Perhaps this explains the abundance of coffee houses. 

- Whitney

Walking along the cemetery's tree-lined 'Main Street'One of our first orders of sightseeing business was the Recoleta Cemetery.  It's the city's number-one tourist attraction, understandably so.  First off, “cemetery” is an understatement; they should call it something like “city of the dead” or “the End All Be All of Cemeteries.” Like a city (for living people), it’s complete with wide thoroughfares and small alleyways running between the ominous-looking tombs. The tombs themselves - often referred to as mausoleums - are actually small buildings, fantastically decorated or imposingly stark.  It is at once amazingly spooky, even in direct sunlight on a hot day with hundreds of buzzing tourists like us, and touching, as the families of the dead leave huge bouquets of flowers or even plates of food at the steps of beloved relatives' tombs. 

Although we saw a few English-speaking guided tours, we opted to walk alone, slinking along the edges, curiously peering in to the “lives” of the dead. Although we were without a full commentary or historical facts about the dead who are here, we preferred a personal experience.  One of the tombs I examined closely revealed its basement; most of it was actually underground with a skinny spiral staircase leading deep into the dark. The above-ground portion is about 15 feet tall, with glass French doors, slightly ajar and covered with cobwebs, held loosely closed by a chain locked with a big padlock right out of a Scooby-Doo cartoon. It looked like the whole set up might be more about keeping something IN rather than keeping us OUT. Nice.

Walking around more, and peeking into many more tombs reveals that they are rarely for a single individual, but instead usually for whole families. Money alone is not enough to get you into Recoleta; you need an important surname, a resume listing Former National President or a major war victory under your belt to be buried here.  Almost all 'important' Argentines rest here, including Eva Peron (also known as Evita, a famous Argentine political figure – a woman who rose from humble beginnings to become a famous radio personality, and then celebrity-like wife of the Argentine president).  There is a long line that snakes through the cemetery "streets" to see Evita's tomb.  She's arguably one of the world's most famous Argentinians, thanks to a musical and movie (starring Madonna) of her life, so her tomb is a most coveted photo-op.

A few hours later, finally submitting to the heat and overwhelming rows and rows of crypts, we took our leave. Back to our apartment, much smaller than some of these magnificent mausoleums, but decidedly more comfortable.

- Whitney

All smiles on our wedding dayWe spent our first wedding anniversary in sunny Buenos Aires, as we're here for the next few weeks. John made breakfast in bed and brought a bouquet of lilies for me (awwww!), and we headed out to B.A.'s oldest neighborhood, San Telmo, where a huge street market takes place each Sunday. We bopped around looking at antique housewares, vintage linens, local artwork, vintage clothing and a bunch of other stuff that I'd have to categorize as "junk." It's a huge street festival, with nearly a dozen roads closed all day Sunday. We did a lot of browsing and people-watching. A large amount of street performers entertained the milling crowds, including a handful of excellent tango dancers.

It's hard to believe it's been a whole year since our wedding; especially since we've been milking the honeymoon idea during the whole trip. Our trip, monikered the "super long, extended delayed honeymoon," enabled each of us the liberty to tell people we meet that this is our honeymoon trip. This was most beneficial in the Hotel & Lodging department...

I think we got the idea in Rome, that honeymooners get treated better and are more pleasantly looked-after by hotel staff, so as we checked in, John happily inquired if they were putting us in the honeymoon suite. 
One Year Later; Still Smiling!Next thing you know, a lovely bottle of champagne showed up at our (standard room) door, compliments of the hotel.  Naturally this got us thinking. Why not ...volunteer... that it's our honeymoon when checking into hotels? I mean we're practically newlyweds... Tacky?  Perhaps. But when you're going to be staying in nearly 15 different hotels all over the world, the "honeymoon" mention has given us a few upgrades and definitely better attention. Not to mention a few bottles of bubbly.

Now that it's been a full year since our wedding, I think it's about time to nix the honeymoon mention. Besides, we don't plan in being in any more hotels during the rest of our trip.*

- Whitney

* We're making some changes to the itinerary, cancelling Venezuela and staying in Argentina a little longer. Posted itinerary (on the left) will be changed when flights and schedules are certain.

We decided one day to find one of the City's main polo fields, which is connected to Buenos Aires' version of Central Park - a huge municipal park with gardens, museums, lakes, sporting complexes, and a road that runs through it which closes on weekends.  We found the polo field, with its beautiful ivy-covered grandstands and impeccable mowed lawn, but the place was locked up and empty -- public polo season is November through December. 

Hipódromo de Palermo, Buenos Aires, ArgentinaInstead, we ventured across the street, to the Hipodromo Racetrack.  It happened to be a racing day, and we walked into what seemed to be a very civilized and clean racetrack experience.   The Hipodromo entrance is an imposing structure, looking more like a regal manse than a horseracing center.  We walked through the gates, where we were surprised to realize that there was no entrance fee, and found ourselves an umbrella table on the lawn near the finish line.  The crowd was mainly male (the average woman doesn't go "play the ponies" in any culture, it seems), but well-behaved and very tidy (the absence of ripped up tickets for lost bets scattered on the paths was immediately noticeable).  We got a kick out of the betting system - there were ticket windows, where one stands in cue to place a bet for a race, but there were also the betting girls, who walk around taking bets on hand-held computers that print out your ticket. 
The paddock at the trackThey wear fanny packs full of cash, which made me nervous, but I'm the newcomer here, so who am I to judge?  Not sure if this is commonplace at other racetracks around the world, but we've never seen betting girls on foot anywhere in The States.

We ventured into the Grandstand, where we found a huge casino under the ground level.  No tables, but slot machines as far as the eye could see!  We played a Roulette machine for a while and left the track to wander around the trendy neighborhood of Las Cañitas.  We've been exploring the many neighborhoods of Buenos Aires slowly...  We wander around, looking for one restaurant or shop that we had read about online or in our Lonely Planet book, then find that we admire the vibe of the entire neighborhood, often resulting in a revisit for dinner or drinks later that evening. 

The rain pelting the street in front of our apartmentThe weather in Bs As was really soggy for a few days with tons of rain that clogged the city's drainage system, resulting in a massive traffic accident and flooding on a main highway.  We had plans to meet up for lunch with our friends Augusto and Sara, but they were stuck in standstill traffic for 45 minutes with their infant son before calling us to cancel lunch.  As Augusto later put it, there are some situations in which Argentina reveals itself as a 3rd world country; just a few hours of rain, and we are swimming in the streets of beautiful Buenos Aires.

We're still struggling with the language barrier.  Whitney is the stronger Spanish speaker, but much of her scholastic skills have dwindled since college.  John has a lot of work-based Spainsh, but "Policia! No Se Mueva!" only goes so far  :)  We find that some people in Buenos Aires speak English, but aren't very happy to do it.  However, we have found - thanks to yoga teacher Thuy - a healthy sandwich & smoothie joint run by Americans around the courner from our apartment.  We go there almost everyday of the week for lunch and are recognized for our exact same orders each day.  It may not be much, but the folks at Pura Vida definitely make us feel more like locals, despite the fact that we order in Spanglish.

Getting tied upWe were walking home from errands the other day when we turned onto our street, Juncal, and we saw a pair of young guys tying huge, cartoon-like ropes around a sofa, covered in moving blankets.  I immediately recognized that they were planning to hoist this sofa to an apartment window, as it's the only way to get large pieces of furniture into old apartments without cutting them up.  Many older buildings have small elevators or none at all, so if the unit has a large front-facing window, the ol' Heave-Ho is the only way to get that new sofa into one's living room. 

John wasn't interested, so he went back to our apartment while I stood on the corner, in front of our nearest coffeehouse, watching 'Operation Sofa'.  The boys secured some pretty serious-looking knots on the couch, then one of them disappeared into the building, only to reappear again at a seventh floor balcony.  Seventh Floor!?!  I had to see this.  Another man stood with the kid on the balcony, which had the other ends of the sofa ropes looped around its banister. 

And away we go!Uno, dos, tres, and suddenly, the sofa was 10 inches off the ground.  The boy on the sidewalk just kinda stood there, looking up at the guys pulling, since his job didn't involve much at this point.  He got busy, however, when the sofa was getting higher towards the first floor of apartments.  Boy on the sidewalk held two ropes that laid against the back of the sofa, using them to guide the heavy item away from the building's facade. 

As I watched, my neck craned upwards to watching the men Heave-Hoeing, a few other pedestrians joined me in watching.  An older guy who spoke a little English saw me with the camera and noted that it was a good photo op.  "It's very telling of this City's old-fashioned systems," he said.  Then he tapped his hat at me and disappeared.  I might mention that he was the Argentine version of Truman Capote. But taller.  Anyway, back to the sofa.

Almost there.....!When it was hovering around the fourth floor, a pair of children appeared at the window, giggling at the site of this huge thing dangling in front of their apartment.  They reached their little hands out to touch the ropes, while the boy on the sidewalk yelled and cursed at them.  He was, at this point, standing in the middle of the street, temporarily stopping traffic.  He needed so much leverage to guide the sofa away from other apartments' balconies and windows that he was standing 15 feet away from the very sidewalk where this operation began.  When the sofa finally reached the top, the two guys hoisted it over the balcony and my show was over.  What a fun performance. Plus, it was a free show, and I had a front row seat. 

- Whitney

Huge MastA few days ago we took a walk around the Puerto Madero neighborhood, the old port center that has recently turned into a hip row of refurbished warehouses.  It´s THE place to go for a chic business lunch or for clubbing late late nights.  We found, while walking along the docks on a hot day last week, the Fragata Escuela Presidente Sarmiento, the first training vessel for the Argentine Navy.
John aboard the ship's 2nd deckThis beautiful old naval sailship is docked permanently at Puerto Madero after a lengthy career sailing around the world.  The ship now serves as a museum dedicated to itself.

This was the first ship designed for training purposes. It was built in an English shipyard by request of the Argentinean Navy. It measures 85 meters long and 13.32 meters wide with three masts, thirty-five sails and a beautiful figurehead representing the Argentine Republic on the bowsprit. The ship's name is a tribute to the founder of the Navy Academy. It set sail from Buenos Aires on January 12, 1899 and it ended its inaugural voyage on September 1900, after having navigated 49 thousand nautical miles. Now, along with the Corvette Uruguay, it functions as the Museum of Sea Navigation. See our photos of the ship here.

Dancing at the gazebo milongaThis past Sunday, we met up with Thuy who invited us to join her at her favorite Chinese restaurant in a neighborhood called Belgrano.  Within Belgrano is Buenos Aires´ Chinatown, about 2.5 blocks of restaurants, bakeries, import stores and holistic shops with Chinese lettering on their awnings and Chinese families loudly barking conversations at each other.  We had a great lunch of classic Chinese food, then walked to a Chinese grocery store to pick up some fun yummies.  Then, Thuy walked us a few blocks away to a large city park called Barrancas de Belgrano (10 hectars/25 acres), where every Sunday the Milonga called "La Glorieta" takes place. 

We showed up at about 7:30 and watched a class of 20 adults learning from a Benicio del Toro look-alike teacher.  The crowds started gathering around the large raised gazebo, though, as the open air Milonga begins each Sunday night at 8:30, after the class is through.  Thuy left to return home to Ben, so John and I watched the women walk into the park in their sandals, and change into towering 4-inch heels.  Old men arrived in suits and smiles, greeting all their comrades in dance.  When the class was over, the crowds swarmed the gazebo, choosing partners and stretching their feet.  Music was turned on their makeshift speaker system, and the night slipped in while the dancers slinked and slid all over the floor and each other.  It was a really cool introduction to the Milonga - a tango event or tango party.