Love your food, love yourself

Dan:

Food: It may seem that I’ve been slacking a bit on the Argentine food descriptions. If you’re reading this blog hoping for descriptions of strange and interesting local edibles, I’m sorry for that. One reason is that nearly every Argentine restaurant has a similar menu, so having seen this menu a few times, we are finding less to write home about. But the real truth is that we haven’t been eating all that much Argentine food. My wife has taken her new job as full-time hausfrau quite seriously. In addition to her studying, Lou does all the cooking, cleaning and laundry (by hand). She has been going to great lengths to create food that pleases her pallete, and I’m a willing beneficiary. We are probably the only people in South America to have had lentil stew, jambalaya, fajitas, and sweet and sour green beans this week. Certainly the only ones in Argentina.

Speaking of yummy, spicy food; in Argentina there is none. None. We wanted to make salsa last week (never mind that there are no tortillas or chips) so we went to the mercado central to buy some produce. We still needed cilantro and chiles, and those weren’t sold at our local produce shop. Anyway, at the mercado, we asked a lady if she had any hot peppers. Here is how the rest of the conversation went:

“Why?”

“We want to make some food.”

“But why do you need hot peppers. They are no good.”

“We’re making Mexican food. We like hot peppers.”

“But you’re not Mexican, are you?”

“Uh… no”

“Chilean people eat that stuff but in Argentina we don’t eat it. It’s bad for the mucous in your stomach. It will kill you. Why don’t you love yourselves.”

(nervous chuckling. “Is she serious?”)

“Why don’t you have a steak with a little fat on it, maybe some nice salad? You have to say ‘Today I’m going to decide to love myself. I’m not going to eat these things anymore.”

Etc. for 2 or 3 minutes, waiting for the punchline from the kind bilingual veggie señora, a punchline that never came. She was speaking in earnest. We thanked her for her concern and found that the guy at the next veggie booth had some hungarian-type peppers. Good enough for our makeshift salsa.

I guess one lesson learned from living here is that we should appreciate the grocery diversity in our country. A few years ago I thought it was pretty funny how quickly Dave consumed the chips, salsa and hard cider I brought to him in Japan. Now I understand. Here I am, undergoing the first time in many years I’ve gone 3 months without ramen noodles or microbrews. Bless the big box grocers of America, from Aisle A to aisle Z.

Puente del Inca

Lou: We took a 4 hr. bus ride up the mountains this weekend to Puente del Inca. It is a small village whose main attraction is a natural arch that has formed over a river because of the minerals and natural springs coming out of the rock. The signs said that the minerals were calcium carbonate & iron oxide. You can see the orange color in the photos. There was once a classy hotel with mineral springs in the rooms (beginning of 1900’s), but a earthquake/ landslide destroyed it. It was mostly up above, but you can see the remains of some of it on the side of the cliff, too. The story goes that all of the people from the hotel were in the church when the avalanche came, and everyone survived. You can still see the little stone church up above.

We decided to stay in town for the night and to spend the day making the 2 mile trek to the entrance of Aconcagua park to see a good view of the mountain (tallest point in the americas) and to hang out a bit. We checked into a cheap hostel and the guy told us that he gave tours that went out there and other places. We decided to take him up on it instead of all of the walking.

The tour started out going to the small cemetary that has memorials for people that have died trying to climb Aconcagua. Its probably a good thing that it is situated a little ways from town, since most of the business there is outfitting and leading people to go up the mountain!

Next we headed for a view of the Old Man (Aconcagua). That’s it in the background of the photo of us with the sign. In the picture it is still 40 km. away from us. It was starting to cloud over a little because it rained that evening (snowed on the mountain peaks). It was nice to see grass and ponds in this valley as opposed to the rocky mountain landscape.

Then David drove us up a narrow, very windy road (no such thing as guard rails) to the Cristo Redentor. If you look real closely in the picture of Dan you can see a statue below. (in case you don’t know, you can click on a picture in order to see a bigger version of it) It is on the border of Chile & Argentina and was once the way to travel from one to the other. Now, there is a very long tunnel through the mountain. It was so cold and windy! We climbed up the hill that you can see Dan standing on. Down below is where the car was parked; way, way down below (no picture of it) is where the main road was. I got a picture of the glaciers on the mountain tops from up here.

On our way back we stopped by the river at an old train station. There have been no trains running in Argentina for 30 years. A lot of the building was trashed or stolen and we walked along the river bed for a little while.

We headed back to the hostel for a chilly evening. It was an old train station and in back there was a bar that was once a building in which they changeed cars by using a big round piece of flooring with tracks that rotates. It happened that we were the only ones staying that night. We made some soup and watched a DVD. Funny that we had DVD player with sound system, but no heat. We bundled up like good little Minnesotans, though, and it was ok.

Trapped in an A-ha video?

There were some local art students at our place the other night.
We met at an art show, then drank some wine in the park, yadda, yadda, yadda .... we had our first overnight guests.

These portraits are courtesy of Mariano.

Some clarification

A few posts ago we mentioned that we planned on being here until November or December. We should have been more specific and said that we planned on being based in Mendoza until that time, and then spend a few months, or as long as the money lasts, trying to see as much as we can in South America. So, if you wish to visit us in Mendoza, or Santiago, Chile, you have another 7 months or so in which to do it. But if there is another place in South America you'd like to visit, or if you plan to travel after November or December, maybe we can meet you there after we leave Mendoza. Christmas on Easter Island anyone? Valentines in Valparaiso? Carnaval in Cartagena? Let us know.

We think we're going to stay in this apartment for awhile, so here's our address:

9 De Julio 980 Piso 3 Dept. H
Ciudad, Mendoza 5500
Republica de Argentina

We don't have much information either way on the reliability of the Argentine Postal Service. We haven't received any mail yet, but 3 of 4 things we've sent to the States have arrived. So please don't send us any large wads of currency or household appliances until we know for sure it's safe.

What's up?

Lou: So, what have I been up to? I’m not sure what to say; the days pass quickly and mellow. Tranquilo.

We moved a week ago. The new apartment isn’t as new and squeaky clean as the last one, but it’ll do—and it’s a little cheaper. Also has lots of space and extra couch/ bed for visitors. I’ve been spending some time cleaning up the kitchen. I’m a grime fighter in Argentina! The owner and the realtor type guy (who happens to be her brother) are really nice. They supplied us with a new microwave in the hopes that we will stay for many months and since he had a “good impression of us”.

We have a tiny little balcony that functions as a laundry and not much else, but it is nice to have a little outdoor space. We would have a mountain view if it weren’t for the big apartment building between us and it. Dan thinks it looks a little like “Good Times” out our balcony. Oh well, mountainview probably would drive up the price!

I’m trying to keep up with studying spanish every day, even though I don’t have class every day, now. I also have my resume in to a few companies that are owned/run by gringos as well as the Hyatt--a long shot, but worth a try.

I’m realizing how much we relied on boxed or frozen—pre-fab food. Ok, and how much Dan used to cook, too. I’ve been looking up recipes on the internet to give me ideas on what to do with all the fresh produce and dry legumes. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but it takes more creativity to eat vegetarian from scratch, I think. –To get great flavors that aren’t prepackaged. To my delight, all of the raw ingredients are here! I’ve been able to get ginger, curry, cumin, etc. –even though I can’t imagine any of these in average Argentine food. And I think I will try my hand at making more Indian style dishes.

I’ve been learning to not just shop at the super market and I have my favorite diet/ herb store, bread shop, and vegetable store/stand. It’s fun to be a “regular”.

Food: There actually are a few vegetarian restaurants here. With such great names as Vegetalia and Jardín (garden) de Pooh how can we resist? They seem to be a fast or “healthy” alternative for lunch. They are only open during lunch-time. They usually have a buffet style set up and most don’t even have a place to sit; they just have take out. Well, either way, one dishes up what they want into plastic throw away squares, they weigh it and charge by the kilogram, and wrap in paper for you to take.

We’ve found a couple with a little asian accent in which Dan loves the fried noodles and rice. Other items have a lot of cheese like rolled up crepe things or an eggplant bake. So, I don’t know if it is really all that healthy with the oils and cheese, maybe if one just opted for the salad (which depending on the place, can have a lot of options—some a little mysterious) which has olive oil as the dressing option and costs a few pesos less per kilo. Other common features are empanadas with cheese or spinach or mushed corn inside, squash (winter & summer) and spanish omelots with greens or carrots.

The teaching scene

Dan: My teaching schedule seems to be picking up. I’ve got 10 classes or so per week at Highlands now, most of them are private lessons, though a couple have been standing me up lately. Today I just talked to someone from another institute who wants me to start doing a couple classes a week as well. So far, other than one unexpected job I have tutoring Spanish (in exchange for beer and a few pesos), eliminating the middle man and getting my own private students has been a total crap-out. I’ve got cute business cards made up and I hand them out to anyone I meet. Lou has been using her design skills to make flyers, and sticking them up for me around town. We’ve seen that people have been ripping off the number from the poster, but so far no one has called. We just have to figure out how to market the Dan Bruski brand. There was a reason I became a teacher and not a business guy.

Teaching is a bit different. First of all, it has been awhile since I was primarily doing one-on-one instruction. For some reason, it requires more energy than with a group, which inherently has more energy. Also the education level and socio-economic status are quite different from that of my students at Adult Options in Hopkins. And the subject matter I’m being asked to teach is something I don’t think I’ll ever teach in an adult basic skills program in the states. A 2-hour class this morning was mostly dedicated to studying the conditional tense to set conditions and offer concessions in business negotiations. For example, “If you buy 2000 cases of wine, we will apply a ten percent discount. We will begin shipment if you provide a letter of credit from your bank.”

So far I think I’m received by my students pretty well, though maybe my style is more informal than what they’re used to. For example, they were a little hesitant when I asked them to move their desks into a circle so we could all face each other, instead of sitting in a traditional line with me in the front. I’ve been lucky, so far, to have had interesting students with senses of humor.

There are some things I miss from my “real job” at Adult Options in Education back in MN. Here are a few:
- regular, plentiful work hours and prep time
- being paid a living wage, on a predictible schedule, not just when it is convenient to pay me
- not having to ask someone to make copies for me
- a short commute to work, and a desk to leave my stuff on
- access to tons of curriculum resources
- sick days, health insurance (luckily I haven’t really needed them yet)

And of course it was nice to have intelligent, wacky, friendly, fun colleagues (you know who you are) who were willing to help each other out or chat from time to time. Here I don’t really feel like I have any coworkers, other than my supervisor. I just show up, teach, and leave. I can see more directly that I am merely a commodity to be bought for a service rendered. I’ve come to terms with that, and as long as it keeps the empanadas on the table, that’s ok for now.

Your visit

Dear reader,
We've been telling people that we plan to be here in Mendoza until November or December. It's April now, so you better start making plans. When are you going to come and visit us?
Love,
Dan and Louann

Let's hear it for Godoy

Dan: I saw all the people in soccer replica jerseys heading towards the park. I decided that I needed to go to that game too. There are a few professional teams from this area. The Mendoza team is in the second level league. The most successful team in the area is the one from Godoy Cruz, also known as Tomba, or the Express. The people are crazy about them here. They made it up to the first league a couple of years ago and play in the big stadium that was built for the world cup in the 70s. I hear they are in danger of being sent back due to their record, so it’s very important that they at least win every home game. A couple weeks ago there was a heartbreaking 0-1 home loss to Boca Juniors, who, along with River Plate, are like the Yankees and Red Sox of Argentine soccer.

So anyway I found the right bus, which dropped us on the side of the stadium where the opposing team’s fans were congregating before the game. I tagged along with an older guy and a young man in searching for the correct entry to the stadium. The señor kept telling me that those people, the fans of Rosario, would rob me if I wasn’t careful. Those people are on drugs, he said. We ended up having to wander around a circumference much greater than that of the stadium, to get to the other side. So much of the park was roped off and guarded by police every 50 yards or so to keep the fans of the opposing teams from intermingling and causing trouble. When we finally got to the other side, we went through three, that’s right, three police patdowns before anyone asked for our tickets. I didn’t have a ticket so thanked those two for their help and went on my own to find a ticket office, which everyone said was around there somewhere, but no one could quite tell me where. Eventually I was sent down a little wooded path, having almost circumnavigated to where I got off the bus. I asked about tickets at the next entryway. A guy asked someone else, then told me I’d have to go where I just came from, only that they were now closing that path, so I’d have to go around the whole stadium again. I was about to curse the name of Islas Malvinas stadium, go home and find a bar with cable tv to watch the game, when suddenly a man in a black shirt and black pants came from inside the gate and gave me a ticket and said, “You don’t owe me anything,” and let me in the gate. So, with still 30 minutes to spare before game time I found a seat. Dang, I love it when good things happen to me!

I sat midway up, near the middle of the field. A great view for sure. Behind either goal, in the cheap seats, is the hincha for each team. Hinchas are the superfans of each side. They are almost all in team attire, waving flags and leading all the songs and chants for their team. I heard that most teams have paid hinchas that they bus to their away games. Rosario had its songs and loose choreography, but they were outnumbered and after the first five minutes or so, when the Tomba supporters got going, I could hardy hear anything from the visitors. The stadium owners save a lot of money on organ-player fees when the crowd keeps percussion and vocals going the whole game. Sure makes going to a Twins game look lame, when the jumbotron has to implore us to say “charge!” The game itself was very good too. Tomba scored off a penalty kick in the first half. Rosario tied it up in the 90^th minute, only to be answered by another from Tomba in the 93^rd. A very dramatic finish which left most of the crowd in a good mood, honking their horns and waving their flags out their windows all the way home. I ran into an English friend and walked with him and his gang til I figured out how to get home on my own.

Game food: Ice cream, popcorn, peanuts, coke, coffee. Pretty boring except for one hot item, Choripan, which looked like a grilled kielbasa on a bun. No beer.

Meet Mario

Dan: Dear Readers, I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of our family, Mario. My employer’s 12-year old son just got a new guitar and so was looking for a buyer for his old one. He told me that he gave it the name Maria, but honestly this guitar looks more like a dude. It isn’t a delicate instrument. It is a beat up oldtimer with a few buzzy frets, not unlike me. Here is a picture of Mario relaxing out on the patio.

On Monday we’ll move to new apartment, about 4 blocks from the old one. It’s maybe not as cute, clean or new, but it is cheaper and closer to work and school. But it’s not a bad place. Most importantly, as far as we know, it won’t have nearby construction making peace and/or quiet impossible each morning and afternoon. More about the new pad later.

It’s Holy Week of course, so many places are closed Thursday and Friday. On the other hand, people from Chile and other parts of Argentina are coming to Mendoza to vacation, so the hotels and restaurants are still hopping. The other night, out of curiosity, we stopped into the Park Hyatt, the fanciest hotel in town, to check out their casino. We’ve lived two blocks from a casino for the last month but hadn’t peeked in yet. Once we passed through the metal detector, it looked like pretty much like every casino you’ve ever been to in your life. Lots of smoke, serious faces and the gentle ding ding ding in the key of C.

Today we went with our yanqui friends Ben and Aya to Lou´s teacher´s house for a nice little asado (BBQ). Enrique has a grill on his rooftop. We ate many parts of cow. I´m not sure how to describe it any better than that. Hopefully someday when I´m more knowledgeable I´ll be able to dedicate an entire entry to beef, because it is certainly the national dish. For now I don´t feel qualified to do it justice.

Food: The shop across the street from where we live now is a carryout joint. It is open around lunch time, then again in the evening. They’ve got a couple glass cases full of Argentine comfort food. They’ve usually got 4 or 5 kinds of empanadas (beef, cheese, veggie, corn, ham), a few kinds of milanesas (breaded beef, chicken, fish or soy), corn pies, ¼ chicken dinners, fritatas, pastas and various hot dishes. You take a number, pick out what you want, maybe ask them to nuke it for you. It’s convenient, especially being right across the street, and fairly cheap. I, for one, prefer it to the U.S. version of fast food. I lament that in moving to another neighborhood next week, I probably won’t get to try everything on the menu.

Viva Las Vegas!

Dan: This weekend we decided that we needed to get away from the city, at least for a day trip. You see, we have a very nice apartment in a convenient central location that just happens to have dentist office being remodeled right above it. Each day from 8:30 a.m. until sometime in the afternoon (irrespective of the siesta rule), our kitchen is converted into a torture chamber of pounding sounds. We have been told that this will soon pass, but there is also a building next to ours being constructed from which we hear saws, drills and more pounding. Louann says it reminds her a little bit of her childhood, growing up in a house under construction. I have headaches every day already, so I don’t really need the help. As I type this, there is the unpleasant sound of metal on metal overhead. So, we are back to searching the classifieds and looking at apartments, and we certainly needed to get out of town for a day.

We got up and took a bus to Potrerillos, only due to a misunderstanding we failed to get off the bus at Potrerillos. We continued a few more stops until we heard a name that sounded like a good second choice, Las Vegas. As we got off the bus, we asked the driver when the next bus back would be. He told us it would be at 6:30, or 8 hours later. We got off the bus and immediately knew that we probably wouldn’t want to stay that long. (Teo, if you’re reading this, it was much like our abbreviated trip to San Francisco el Alto) The scenery was stunning but we simply didn’t know what there was to do or see. Maybe we’ve forgotten how to completely relax and wait for a bus. So we climbed the hill with a shrine on top and enjoyed the panorama of snow-capped mountains. We walked up and down the few streets. Then we tried to hitchhike, but it seemed that everyone was coming into town and no one was leaving. This was understandable given that it was only noon, Monday is a holiday and people from Mendoza come to this area to rent cabins and chill out with their families on gorgeous weekends like this one. After 30 minutes of failed hitching (where’s Reinhardt’s magic thumb when you need it?), we decided that maybe we’d have to sit it out. And sit we did, on uncomfortable rocks, by a trickle of a mountain stream, eating crackers, watching leaf-cutter ants and goofing around. Eventually we needed more water so we left our idyllic little picnic area. Once rehydrated, we thought it might be a good idea for us to walk back to Potrerillos. People said it might be 2 or 3 hours on foot, but its downhill and its a very nice day! We were maybe 30 minutes into the journey when my thumb finally brought us a ride that took us into Potrerillos. The big attraction there is a reservoir that was created only 2 or 3 years ago. The townspeople who were displaced by the new lake were given nice, dry homes up on a hill nearby. We wandered around the shore for a couple of hours and took a bus back home. If we had waited in Vegas, we still would be in transit, so the hitchhiking gambit paid off.

Food: Zapallo is the word for pumpkin here. Zapallito means little pumpkin, and it does look like a little green pumpkin. It tastes like a summer squash. We’ve been slicing them and using them is pasta sauces or in soups. They bring me back to eating chayote at Doña Norma’s house in Costa Rica. When we first bought one, the lady who sold it to us said people stuff them with beef. This is Argentina after all.