Pictures and video from our trip can be viewed at http://picasaweb.google.com/janellkoenig/Argentina2010#
Janell
Monday, November 15, 2010
Monday, Nov. 15 - Back Home
We made it back home Thursday. We have spent the past few days unpacking, washing clothes, looking at pictures, and trying to get back to our usual routine. We hope to have select pictures from our trip posted to a web site for viewing by the end of the day. I'll let you know when they are ready for viewing.
Janell
Janell
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, November 9
We awoke this AM before 6 AM, to really Good Air. We've been sleeping at night with the room A/C on (as has been our norm here) to dampen the sounds of the city and undampen our clothes. When we opened the shutters and stepped out onto our 2 foot deep balcony, the temperature was cooler outside, and the streets 6 floors down were completely dry. Not just dry...but bare. We had heard the garbage truck's diesel engines and squealing brakes about 5 AM, sorting through and picking up the bags and loose garbage left on the sidewalks during the day yesterday, but despite this being a large city, at 7, as I type this, remarkably few pedestrians are on the streets below.
Folks keep curious hours (by our, norteamericano standards). Restaurants are said not to fill up until 10 PM and tango does not really start until after that. Needless to say, we always missed the crowds - great for dinner but less so for watching tango at a milonga (dancehall).
We are eating fruit (just standard US fare: apple, banana, peach and seedy satsuma sort of citruses) and will have muesli con leche with our coffee and (just for fun) tereteré (cold maté) in anticipation of a grand parilla i.e.,grilled bife (beef) and sausages at the estancia. We are up early to walk to a bus stop where we'll catch a tour bus ride to the pampas for a day at La Cinacina, one of the cattle ranch/historical frontier fortresses that porteños frequent for relaxing entertainment.
We are writing now on Wed AM
La Cinacina was a lot of fun. (Larry had originally written that it was a "gas" but Janell eschews the use of the "50's term"). We were joined on the bus by a host of folk from Norway and a few from France, Columbia, Chile, and, most importantly (for us, as we sat near, and talked primarily with them), a few fellow norteamericanos: a couple from Edmonton, Alberta and another couple from Whidby Island in Washington. The Canadians typically spend their winters in Tucson and recognized that the small tree, the "cinacina" for which the ranch is named, is a paloverde.
La Cinacina (and I suppose most estancias) was not a working ranch so much as a dude ranch/hotel/rodeo/folkloric song&dance show, barbecue/asado/grill/parilla (...the host of names should suggest to you the popularity of wood fired beef and chicken and pork in Argentina).
We rode horses a bit
and marveled at the fancy horse tricks the gauchos and their mounts performed: dancing and cutting up
and throwing bolas and spears at a mock rhea and skewering small dangling rings while their horses rode by at full speed.
The rhea is a flightless three toed ostrich-like SA bird that used to roam the pampas back in the days when Spaniards sought silver up the Rio Plata and pampas men were either gauchos or "Indios".
We are grateful we'd begun to learn Cajun dance, so we could do it, in the form of two step and fast waltz when 2 guitarists and an accordionist played most lively.
This last pic,of blogwork, is included just for pg rated entertainment value, and to point out the bidet (blue porcelain unit to left of multitasking blogger).
(This last, too, was posted despite Janell's firm objection!)
We fly home today, and from home, will make more trip pics (and videos) available.
Hasta luego .
L and J
Folks keep curious hours (by our, norteamericano standards). Restaurants are said not to fill up until 10 PM and tango does not really start until after that. Needless to say, we always missed the crowds - great for dinner but less so for watching tango at a milonga (dancehall).
We are eating fruit (just standard US fare: apple, banana, peach and seedy satsuma sort of citruses) and will have muesli con leche with our coffee and (just for fun) tereteré (cold maté) in anticipation of a grand parilla i.e.,grilled bife (beef) and sausages at the estancia. We are up early to walk to a bus stop where we'll catch a tour bus ride to the pampas for a day at La Cinacina, one of the cattle ranch/historical frontier fortresses that porteños frequent for relaxing entertainment.
We are writing now on Wed AM
La Cinacina was a lot of fun. (Larry had originally written that it was a "gas" but Janell eschews the use of the "50's term"). We were joined on the bus by a host of folk from Norway and a few from France, Columbia, Chile, and, most importantly (for us, as we sat near, and talked primarily with them), a few fellow norteamericanos: a couple from Edmonton, Alberta and another couple from Whidby Island in Washington. The Canadians typically spend their winters in Tucson and recognized that the small tree, the "cinacina" for which the ranch is named, is a paloverde.
La Cinacina (and I suppose most estancias) was not a working ranch so much as a dude ranch/hotel/rodeo/folkloric song&dance show, barbecue/asado/grill/parilla (...the host of names should suggest to you the popularity of wood fired beef and chicken and pork in Argentina).
We rode horses a bit
and marveled at the fancy horse tricks the gauchos and their mounts performed: dancing and cutting up
and throwing bolas and spears at a mock rhea and skewering small dangling rings while their horses rode by at full speed.
The rhea is a flightless three toed ostrich-like SA bird that used to roam the pampas back in the days when Spaniards sought silver up the Rio Plata and pampas men were either gauchos or "Indios".
We are grateful we'd begun to learn Cajun dance, so we could do it, in the form of two step and fast waltz when 2 guitarists and an accordionist played most lively.
This last pic,of blogwork, is included just for pg rated entertainment value, and to point out the bidet (blue porcelain unit to left of multitasking blogger).
(This last, too, was posted despite Janell's firm objection!)
We fly home today, and from home, will make more trip pics (and videos) available.
Hasta luego .
L and J
Location:Casa Jazmin (our B&B)
Monday, November 8, 2010
Monday, November 8
We'd washed clothes in the bathtub last night and hung them out on the rooftop clothesline, knowing that rain was predicted for today, but betting that, at worse, wet clean clothes were little worse than dry dirty ones. With luck, we got them in this morning just before the skies opened up. They're a little wet now after a long day of walking in the cool rain, but still clean enough.
We walked and walked. Does this sound familiar? Our plan today had been to post some videos of the falls in this blog via youtube .... no such luck…
and to window shop, maybe buy some souvenirs. J had read that an area of the city is known to have brand name stuff at bargain prices and, as we approached it, the map indicated we were entering a neighborhood called Palermo SOHO (which is just west of Palermo Hollywood). We know of a part of Manhattan called SOHO, - so named because it's South of Houston St, but the BA map shows no local HO for which its SOHO might be tagged. Much of the architecturally grander old parts of BA closely copy plazas and boulevards and statues in Paris. It's flattering to imagine that some of the young, hip parts of our own country are inspiring as well.
It's a grand and curious city. People on the streets certainly don't generally look Latin American. There are remarkably few with African or native American appearance. Their names and looks suggest French, Italian and German.
We passed through whole city blocks devoted to single items of commerce: a block of fabric stores, one whose stores sold predominantly mannequins, a block of threads and sewing accessories, one of paper items, boxes and containers, blocks of factory outlet stores, and finally blocks of eateries and upscale boutique shopping. Throughout them all, folk suck "yerba" with "bombillas" from their hollow gourd, "matés". Yerba mate (pronounced mahtay) is chopped up leaves and stems of Ilex paraguariensis soaked in hot water like tea and sipped through a metal straw (the bombilla) with a perforated end, throughout the day from a decorated gourd cup called the mate. The mate is typically, socially passed around amongst gathered friends at any time of day. Different brands of yerba, a caffeinated bush of the holly family, fill store shelves. Thermoses of hot water are carried like purses, in book sacks and in cars to rewet the yerba until the taste goes flat. Surprisingly, flat is when it tastes best. That is to say, its bitterness makes yerba mate definitely an acquired taste.
Easy to like is the taste of Dulce de Leche (DDL). Two plastic containers of (DDL) were ready for us in the stocked frig of the B&B. DDL, caramelized milk, is the standard filling of the incredibly popular Argentine national cookie called "alfajor".
To sum up: meat is mostly cow, main veggie is mate, and alfajores rule.
Tomorrow we take a bus trip to an Estancia (gaucho ranch) for the day. We hope to see the gauchos do some cattle herding and feed on Parilla (grilled meats).
Additional pics have been posted of the falls - no luck yet with posting videos!
Larry and Janell
We walked and walked. Does this sound familiar? Our plan today had been to post some videos of the falls in this blog via youtube .... no such luck…
and to window shop, maybe buy some souvenirs. J had read that an area of the city is known to have brand name stuff at bargain prices and, as we approached it, the map indicated we were entering a neighborhood called Palermo SOHO (which is just west of Palermo Hollywood). We know of a part of Manhattan called SOHO, - so named because it's South of Houston St, but the BA map shows no local HO for which its SOHO might be tagged. Much of the architecturally grander old parts of BA closely copy plazas and boulevards and statues in Paris. It's flattering to imagine that some of the young, hip parts of our own country are inspiring as well.
It's a grand and curious city. People on the streets certainly don't generally look Latin American. There are remarkably few with African or native American appearance. Their names and looks suggest French, Italian and German.
We passed through whole city blocks devoted to single items of commerce: a block of fabric stores, one whose stores sold predominantly mannequins, a block of threads and sewing accessories, one of paper items, boxes and containers, blocks of factory outlet stores, and finally blocks of eateries and upscale boutique shopping. Throughout them all, folk suck "yerba" with "bombillas" from their hollow gourd, "matés". Yerba mate (pronounced mahtay) is chopped up leaves and stems of Ilex paraguariensis soaked in hot water like tea and sipped through a metal straw (the bombilla) with a perforated end, throughout the day from a decorated gourd cup called the mate. The mate is typically, socially passed around amongst gathered friends at any time of day. Different brands of yerba, a caffeinated bush of the holly family, fill store shelves. Thermoses of hot water are carried like purses, in book sacks and in cars to rewet the yerba until the taste goes flat. Surprisingly, flat is when it tastes best. That is to say, its bitterness makes yerba mate definitely an acquired taste.
Easy to like is the taste of Dulce de Leche (DDL). Two plastic containers of (DDL) were ready for us in the stocked frig of the B&B. DDL, caramelized milk, is the standard filling of the incredibly popular Argentine national cookie called "alfajor".
To sum up: meat is mostly cow, main veggie is mate, and alfajores rule.
Tomorrow we take a bus trip to an Estancia (gaucho ranch) for the day. We hope to see the gauchos do some cattle herding and feed on Parilla (grilled meats).
Additional pics have been posted of the falls - no luck yet with posting videos!
Larry and Janell
Location:Pasteur,Buenos Aires,Argentina
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Sunday, November 7, On the Banks of the Paraná River
Pics prove hard to download. We're at the mercy, here, of digital chance.
Aside from that life is good in the southern hemisphere. We'd hoped, during jungle walking days, to spot a toucano (more commonly known, to us, as merely "toucan", - you know... the Fruit Loops bird) and finally, as we entered the parking area of the Iguazu airport, we both saw a couple of them, cavorting ina tree beside the road as our car stopped.
We'd spent the majority of this day at Puerto Bemberg, a posada in the jungle across the Paraná Rio from Paraguay, near Puerto Libertad. John Fernandes, our host at the Secret Garden B&B had arranged for us to spend the day at an old maté plantation, long since returned to jungle. Now it's a classy botanical showpiece of a hotel/retreat with a large native plant nursery, truck garden, and an old chapel beside which we drank sugarcane juice, fresh squeezed from a hand cranked "trapiche" as you see here.
We ate a delightful lunch there on the patio. We had surubí, a very tasty river catfish and fried manioc, a potato like tuber of the cassava plant (from which also comes tapioca. Also on the menu was paca, a local jungle pig-like mammal related to the agouti, one of which crossed our path in the jungle near the the falls yesterday. (We did not eat it, either.) That paca is served at a nice restaurant should bolster John Folse's promotion of nutria as delicacy.
Coatis, long snouted, ring tailed, raccoon-like scavengers of the Missiones jungle were in noxious abundance yesterday. One climbed onto the table of a European tourist, grabbed her unopened bag of potato chips and was immediately joined by 3-4 others who snarled at each other as they fought over the goods.
We're back at our B&B in Buenos Aires tonight until we leave for home Wednesday night.
L&J
Aside from that life is good in the southern hemisphere. We'd hoped, during jungle walking days, to spot a toucano (more commonly known, to us, as merely "toucan", - you know... the Fruit Loops bird) and finally, as we entered the parking area of the Iguazu airport, we both saw a couple of them, cavorting ina tree beside the road as our car stopped.
We'd spent the majority of this day at Puerto Bemberg, a posada in the jungle across the Paraná Rio from Paraguay, near Puerto Libertad. John Fernandes, our host at the Secret Garden B&B had arranged for us to spend the day at an old maté plantation, long since returned to jungle. Now it's a classy botanical showpiece of a hotel/retreat with a large native plant nursery, truck garden, and an old chapel beside which we drank sugarcane juice, fresh squeezed from a hand cranked "trapiche" as you see here.
We ate a delightful lunch there on the patio. We had surubí, a very tasty river catfish and fried manioc, a potato like tuber of the cassava plant (from which also comes tapioca. Also on the menu was paca, a local jungle pig-like mammal related to the agouti, one of which crossed our path in the jungle near the the falls yesterday. (We did not eat it, either.) That paca is served at a nice restaurant should bolster John Folse's promotion of nutria as delicacy.
Coatis, long snouted, ring tailed, raccoon-like scavengers of the Missiones jungle were in noxious abundance yesterday. One climbed onto the table of a European tourist, grabbed her unopened bag of potato chips and was immediately joined by 3-4 others who snarled at each other as they fought over the goods.
We're back at our B&B in Buenos Aires tonight until we leave for home Wednesday night.
L&J
Location:Pasteur,Buenos Aires,Argentina
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Saturday, Nov 6, Back to the Falls
After a day of rain and local exploration (for Larry) we awoke to an overcast day and a promise of clearing and we returned to the falls... and are glad we did.
We'd been to the Garganta del Diablo, (throat of the devil) previously, -that is, the top of the most concentrated bit of falling water, a catwalk to the center of the maelstrom, from which the world seemed to give away. A loud, scary, point in space from which no orienting perspective was possible... It made no sense... This vast river/lake simply disappeared into a mist filled wind tunnel that soaked us with spray from down under.
Today we hiked down with a host of folk from around the world who had come together with us in the jungle to see the outcome, the aftermath of the falling away of the under pinnings of space/time/river water ... and we were, together, awed.
Iguazu is not just a waterfall. Think Niagara. Then imagine 30 such rivers converging. 300 separate falls, 3 miles wide, spray fed jungle with impatiens, begonia, walking irises, ferns, orchids amuck, bromeliads and philodendrons and flora previously unseen by the likes of us.
Imagine random encounters with raccoon like coatis (a few too many, in fact), iguanas and assorted tropical lizards caught up in the fecundity of it all and mating with reptilian abandon, rambling peccaries, and all of that sharing the trails with hundreds of fellow humans - that's Iguazu.
We took a host of pics and we hope to post some tomorrow. We're off to scope out a plant place tomorrow then fly back to Buenos Aires from which we'll post images.
Tonight we communed with young folk from Singapore and old folk (like us) from the Caribbean. Now, we sleep, to post more tomorrow, a few hundred miles south.
Larry and Janell
PS. How 'bout them tigers?
- Posted using BlogPress from JK's iPad
We'd been to the Garganta del Diablo, (throat of the devil) previously, -that is, the top of the most concentrated bit of falling water, a catwalk to the center of the maelstrom, from which the world seemed to give away. A loud, scary, point in space from which no orienting perspective was possible... It made no sense... This vast river/lake simply disappeared into a mist filled wind tunnel that soaked us with spray from down under.
Today we hiked down with a host of folk from around the world who had come together with us in the jungle to see the outcome, the aftermath of the falling away of the under pinnings of space/time/river water ... and we were, together, awed.
Iguazu is not just a waterfall. Think Niagara. Then imagine 30 such rivers converging. 300 separate falls, 3 miles wide, spray fed jungle with impatiens, begonia, walking irises, ferns, orchids amuck, bromeliads and philodendrons and flora previously unseen by the likes of us.
Imagine random encounters with raccoon like coatis (a few too many, in fact), iguanas and assorted tropical lizards caught up in the fecundity of it all and mating with reptilian abandon, rambling peccaries, and all of that sharing the trails with hundreds of fellow humans - that's Iguazu.
We took a host of pics and we hope to post some tomorrow. We're off to scope out a plant place tomorrow then fly back to Buenos Aires from which we'll post images.
Tonight we communed with young folk from Singapore and old folk (like us) from the Caribbean. Now, we sleep, to post more tomorrow, a few hundred miles south.
Larry and Janell
PS. How 'bout them tigers?
- Posted using BlogPress from JK's iPad
Friday, November 5, 2010
Friday, November 5
A day of lluvia (or as we say in el norte, rain)... Which reminds me of ... The cool way they say golden rain tree: lluvia de oro.
Water, everywhere, sluicing it's way down streets to the Rio Paraná, tinted like wine with dirt in southern Alabama. Janell, under covers, safely reading on her Kindle-like iPad, Larry cruising the rain streets of Puerto Iguaźu checking out plants and gathering seeds.
Together we took a walk around the town in late afternoon, stopped at a supermercado (big market), ate a hamburguesa completa (complete hamburger, i.e. dressed with lettuce and tomato ... and a fried egg), discussed with the waiter the potential for entertainment for the night, walked backed to the Secret Garden (where we are staying), ate crackers with coconut/cilantro/lime garnish and drank some curious local rum/passion flower (maypop completa with seeds) brew (so effective we've forgotten it's name).
We've made tentative plans to visit, mañana, a botanical/medicinal garden known by our Indian host here. And, tonight have only to finish this blog before we sleep.
Having a problem getting pics to post from the jungle so we'll try again, once we return to Buenos Aires, Monday evening.
Lobster Claw Heliconia at the Secret Garden B&B
Larry and Janell
- Posted using BlogPress from JK's iPad
Water, everywhere, sluicing it's way down streets to the Rio Paraná, tinted like wine with dirt in southern Alabama. Janell, under covers, safely reading on her Kindle-like iPad, Larry cruising the rain streets of Puerto Iguaźu checking out plants and gathering seeds.
Together we took a walk around the town in late afternoon, stopped at a supermercado (big market), ate a hamburguesa completa (complete hamburger, i.e. dressed with lettuce and tomato ... and a fried egg), discussed with the waiter the potential for entertainment for the night, walked backed to the Secret Garden (where we are staying), ate crackers with coconut/cilantro/lime garnish and drank some curious local rum/passion flower (maypop completa with seeds) brew (so effective we've forgotten it's name).
We've made tentative plans to visit, mañana, a botanical/medicinal garden known by our Indian host here. And, tonight have only to finish this blog before we sleep.
Having a problem getting pics to post from the jungle so we'll try again, once we return to Buenos Aires, Monday evening.
Lobster Claw Heliconia at the Secret Garden B&B
Larry and Janell
- Posted using BlogPress from JK's iPad
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