Like a Tourist

Relaxing at Café Tortoni after hours of sightseeing on a perfect spring day.

My twin sister Jackie came to visit for five days, leaving her husband, three boys, and dog at home in Los Angeles. Husband was very accommodating in allowing me a lot of child-free time, so Jackie and I were able to do some of the touristy things that are not particularly fun/difficult to do with small children.

Highlights included (reads like a résumé with the action verbs, concise text, and bullet points, non?):

• eating fabulous meals of parrilla at Cabaña Las Lilas and La Dorita and ceviche at La Libélula

• drinking café con leche at the Argentina's oldest café (1858), Café Tortoni, at my Belgrano favorite Don Resto, and Buena Vida, my Palermo favorite

• indulging in a swanky high tea at the Alvear Palace Hotel

• dancing tango and "rock-n-roll" (jitterbug) at La Viruta milonga in the Armenian Cultural Center in Palermo Soho

• watching tango in San Telmo's Plaza Dorrego and a tango show at the historic El Viejo Almacén, which featured a six-piece band, eight dancers, an aging diva, and more on a tiny 10' x 20' stage

• shopping in trendy Palermo Soho and at the fabulous San Telmo antiques market

• absorbing culture at the Museo Nacional de Belles Artes, Museo Fortabat, MALBA, Jardín Japonés, and the Recoleta Cemetery

• picnicking with the kids amongst hundreds of barking dogs in Parque Las Heras

It was a quick visit, but Boy and Girl were thrilled to see their aunt, and they loved all the books and gifts that she brought for them. 

I was grateful that Jackie traveled so far for such a short trip, and I appreciated her eagerness to explore the city with me -- much of it on foot. She even left me her comfy pair of Cole Haan shoes since I cannot buy anything here to fit my size tens.

Plaza de Mayo and Casa Rosada

Recoleta Cemetery

Christopher Columbus monument in Parque Colon

San Telmo antiques market and street fair

Tea at the Alvear Palace Hotel

Tea at the Alvear Palace Hotel

El Viejo Almacén in San Telmo

Before the tango show at El Viejo Almacén

Cruella DeVille-type diva takes the stage at El Viejo Almacén

The Day the World Stopped Spinning in Argentina, Part II or One Less in the Census Count

Néstor forever! Be strong, Christina!

So Wednesday, October 27 was a national holiday for the census (see Part I). Everything was closed and the streets were amazingly quiet. It was a gorgeous morning -- bright blue skies and 65 degrees. 

After breakfast I looked online to see what expats were saying about the census day. I was shocked to learn that former Argentine President Néstor Kirchner had just died from cardiac arrest.

The death of a former president in any country is significant, but it is huge here for a variety of reasons, primarily because Néstor was married to current President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner. Argentines have strong feelings about their leaders, and most of those we encounter do not support the Kirchner dynasty. Néstor was renown for overseeing Argentina's recovery from the economic crisis in 2001. He was only 60 and was expected to run for president again in the 2011 election. Cristina is also accused by many of being Néstor's puppet, so it will be very interesting to see any changes in her leadership style and decisions going forward.

Husband talked with some Argentine colleagues that afternoon and they were very concerned about Néstor's death and what it will mean for the current government and 2011 elections. Husband took the subte down to Playa de Mayo that evening to see what was happening. He wasn't sure what to expect -- protests, celebrations, or quiet memorials. There were thousands of people gathered that evening. Here is some of what he saw:

The Day the World Stopped Spinning in Argentina, Part I

Censo Nacional is a national holiday in Argentina. An every-ten-year event, pretty much everything was closed until 8 p.m. Businesses that opened before the evening were subject to a large fines. The word on the street was to buy any food, liquor or any other essential items before midnight and hunker down for the day while waiting for the census worker to ring the bell.

We woke that Wednesday morning to the sounds of birds and an eerie quiet. I took Boy and Girl to the playground since it was open and we were not sure if transportation was available to go outside of our neighborhood.

Census workers were paid $250 pesos (about $63 USD) for the day. One census worker was robbed of her purse early in the morning, but they did not take her census materials. (Reminded me of the time a few years ago when Husband's car was broken into in Columbus's Short North -- his cell phone was stolen but two bottles of kosher wine were left on the car seat.)

Even though we are living here for less than a year, the worker wanted information about us. While I gave the kids dinner, Husband talked with the census worker, a retired attorney. At 6:15 p.m., we were his last interview and he was tired but kind. He asked about our rental apartment (how many rooms, how many bathrooms, did we have wood floors), our employment situation here and in the U.S., how many computers we own and who used them, and our levels of education. The whole process of the day seemed labor intensive and ridiculous. We told a few locals about how the U.S. does the census. They laughed and said that Argentines would never participate in that format. 

Since many Argentines believe that the census figures will be manipulated by the government, some claimed that they would refuse to disclose personal information. This sign was floating around on expat websites so it could be posted on the doors of homes in protest.

Dear census people:

Please do not bother ringing the bell. In this home, we are certain this survey is going to be “retouched” by our most excellent presidents (the Kirchners). Therefore, we ask you not to waste your time knocking on our door. However, here’s some information that we are sure will be of interest to our “beloved” president:

     1 – We are an average Argentine family.

     2 – We have four cars, all bought in 2010 (and we’re thinking of buying a new one).

     3 – Our floors are all wooden. Yes, even in the bathroom.

     4 – We have a dog that eats only the best cuts of beef.

     5 – We have central air and central heating.

     6 – Our fridge is filled with imported delicacies.

     7 – We eat beef at least three of four times a week.

     8 – We have a wi-fi at home and a Bluetooth connection in our molars.

     9 – We only get our news from government-friendly newspapers.

   10 – We are all blonde and have blue eyes.

We consider it useless for you to survey us since Mr. Moreno, the lord of the INDEK statistics agency already has the census results. Please do not spend a whole day away from your family. Go home, have mate with your wife or cook some pasta for your husband (if you have one).

Yours truly,

A family that tries to be in a good mood despite it all

(And please don’t say this out loud or we might get taxed for it.)

So the day passed and most things were back to their regularly chaotic state on Thursday. (See Part II for an explanation.)

A Trip to the Campo

Over the Columbus Day holiday, we were invited to the campo home of an academic colleague and friend of Husband's. Since we do not have a car, they arranged for a remise to deliver us to their chacra near San Miguel del Monte, about 90 minutes south of BsAs.

The remise picked us up at 9 am and the kids and I settled into the backseat of the driver's older Renault. There were no seat belts, which annoyed me greatly, but there was nothing we could do about it. The driver, Lucio, seemed nice, and Husband enjoyed working on his Spanish by talking with him in the front seat. 

The ride was pleasant as we left the city behind. Lucio played the Beatles and '80s pop music on satellite radio. We were amazed by the motorcycles blowing by us at least twice our speed. We also saw a motorcycle driver with his helmut on the arm that he was using to steer, holding a cigarette in the other so he could smoke as he rolled down the freeway. 

Lucio exited the freeway then pulled over to go through his console and make a couple of phone calls. Only then did we learn that he did not have Lila's address and neither did we. Husband called her a couple of times and left messages. 

With nothing to do but wait for a call, Lucio took us to his humble home in the small town. His wife and sister were in the kitchen when we entered. They graciously offered us food and coffee. We declined the food and asked for water. Boy and Girl wolfed down the alfajores that were handed to them. Lucio's five-year old grandson appeared holding a variety of Pixar/Disney DVDs so they followed him into the bedroom to watch a movie. Lucio's wife slipped out the door and returned from a neighborhood market with a big bottle of Coca Cola. Before I could stop her, she poured a large glass and proudly presented it to me. The whole situation was strange but not uncomfortable.

After about 30 awkward minutes, Husband's phone finally rang. We collected our children and climbed back into the Renault. Our short time in Monte was a microcosm of our time in Argentina: many things do not go as planned, but redemption comes from the generous nature of kind people.

We arrived at Lila and Richard's 15 minutes later. Their beautiful home is in a gated community that was originally one large estancia but was broken into parcels in the last ten or so years. Designed by acclaimed landscape architect Carlos Thays more than 100 years ago, the unpaved roads are lined by tall, shady eucalyptus and sycamore trees. The original mansion is now used as an estancia hotel. Lila and Richard's home is the original guest house, and it is charming and full of character.

We were treated to a typical Argentine asado of bife de chorizo, morcilla, chorizo sausage, chicken, and beef on skewers marinated with Richard's own Indian curry mixture. Served on a teak table under an arbor of jasmine, wisteria, and gardenia, this amazing lunch was complemented by a bottle of 2006 Benegas Lynch meritage from Mendoza and a variety of salads (lettuce, tomatoes, and egg and potato). Husband and I were honored to be at their table.


We spent the afternoon relaxing and strolling about, watching cows and horses grazing the pampas from a distance, and seeing storks, herons, cranes and other water fowl in a marshy area adjacent to the property. We played ping pong, soccer, and volleyball with their teenage son. Boy kept busy on a building project with bricks, sticks, a box, and a pipe. Girl was entertained by their sweet and patient teenage daughter.

Girl discovered some very busy ants on a fallen tree log. When I mentioned the ants to Richard, he led me across the yard and pointed out a path with several branches that extended at least 100 feet through the grass. The path was low and subtle, but once I saw it, I couldn't keep my eyes from following it.

Richard explained that they were parasol or "leaf-cutter" ants. He had been so impressed with their industriousness that he wrote a song about them. There were thousands of ants parading on the path, eastward ones carrying bits of leaf sometimes three or four times their size and the westward ones marching back to the tree to get more. They were enthralling to watch.

The moonrise over the pampas was clear and beautiful that spring evening. Except for the detour to Lucio's house, it was a perfectly lovely day in the campo with good friends, food, and wine.

lunch!

Boy's project

parasol ants 

asado

bife de chorizo

Busy Spring

In the last two plus weeks, we had friends visit from Columbus, hosted relatives from Minnesota, joined friends at their country home outside BsAs for last weekend's Columbus Day holiday, traveled to Mendoza for a spectacular wine tour (ostensibly so Husband could give a lecture on the Tea Party Movement and the upcoming U.S. election), and took day trips to the charming town of Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay, and to an amusement park in Tigre, north of BsAs on the Rio de la Plata. 

In that first week, Husband also traveled to Cordoba and La Plata to give lectures. Oh, and both kids had fevers and had to stay home from school several days. Sunday was Mother's Day in Argentina. It exhausts me just to remember, and try to record, the blur of time.

More specifics to follow after I get my MacBook Pro repaired. It slid out of my computer bag and crashed on a tile floor last week. It is now making a disturbing sound at start up and I cannot close it all the way for fear of cracking the screen. 

Here are a few photos. This will be teasers for future blogs with actual content....

Bastion de San Miguel in Colonia, Uruguay

Bastion de San Miguel in Colonia, Uruguay

Barrio Historico, near the port, in Colonia, Uruguay

At the Regimiento de Granaderos a Caballo de San Martin

Pisco sours at Don Resto, a favorite of ours in Belgrano

Fragata Sarmiento in Puerto Madero

Fragata Sarmiento in Puerto Madero

 Our friend Richard cooking a typical country asado.

Moonrise over the Pampas

Alta Vista Winery cave in Mendoza

Benegas Lynch Winery family dining room in Mendoza

Benegas Lynch Winery degustation in Mendoza

Not a U.S. Medical Experience

Boy came down with croup on Tuesday night. I had checked on him at 11 p.m. and he was sleeping soundly, quietly. He started coughing at 11:30, and it very quickly turned into a croup cough (hard, seal-like barking sound). He was crying and panicking because he could not get enough air into his lungs.

Croup has happened before in our house so I knew what to do: alternate steam in the shower with putting his head in the freezer. (Humidity helps reduce the swelling in the throat.) He was barely better after 40 minutes, so we decided to take him to a hospital.

Husband called a Porteño colleague with kids who lives near in the neighborhood. She said (in her sleep) the name of the hospital that was the closest to our apartment. Although we had been told the best hospitals in BsAs for children, especially for those who primarily speak English, we chose a nearby hospital because Boy was struggling to breathe. Husband and I (Husband's father and his wife are visiting, so they stayed with the sleeping Girl) took a taxi to a public hospital.

The taxi dropped us at the curb. There was no ER entrance or signage. We had to ask security guards where to go, which included dark doorways and hallways and a few sleeping/drunk homeless men. The overall condition of the hospital was not well lit and dirty by U.S. standards.

We were directed to a door that said pediátrico and told to ring a buzzer. After a few minutes a woman appeared and said (in Spanish—no one spoke English) to wait on some dirty chairs that she motioned towards. After a few minutes another woman appeared and beckoned Husband (who was holding Boy at the time) but said that I had to stay out. I watched them disappear into a dark room. I waited impatiently for a few minutes then decided to try the door. It was open, so I sneaked in. I expected to be thrown out, and was poised to argue with anyone who confronted me.

I entered into a large dark ward full of sleeping (some whimpering) children and babies. I quickly found Husband and Boy. Boy was sitting on a plastic chair wearing a mask, breathing what Husband thought was a steroidal breathing treatment. A woman told Husband to have him breathe with the mask on for five minutes. No one returned. After ten minutes, I shut off the machine. We looked around for someone to acknowledge us but no one did. We walked out of the pediatric ward and then out of the hospital. We did not pay (we would have, of course) because there was absolutely no personnel around. We could have scooped up a few sleeping babes if we had wanted to. A homeless guy hit us up for money as we walked to the street to find a taxi.

In June 2009 Boy had croup that required an ER visit at Nationwide Children's Hospital. These two experiences could not have been much more different. The colleague who suggested the public hospital appeared at our apartment the next morning, horrified that she had sent us there in her sleepy state. She was relieved, as were we, that Boy had a good night—he slept relatively well and had a good appetite the following day.

In the morning I called a pediatrician who is a friend of our well connected realtor. House calls are common here, so the doctor came to our apartment. A Porteño who had studied at the Cleveland Clinic and had lived in Chicago, she could not have been more professional or more kind. She prescribed prednisone and said if we needed a hospital again to go to the German or British hospitals. The 30-minute house call cost $150 pesos (about $38 USD). She gave me a receipt, which should be reimbursed by our insurance company. She called this morning to see how Boy slept during the night and to make certain that he was okay. I have never felt more cared for by a medical professional.

Another new experience was getting the prescription filled. Doctor’s offices here do not call in prescriptions, so you have to go to one of the many pharmacies, where the focus seems to be perfume and anti-cellulite treatments. I sent my father-in-law—a fluent Spanish speaker—out to fill the prescription. He returned with the prednisone as well as with the doctor’s note, which the pharmacy did not keep. I have been told you can get many drugs without a prescription if you know how to ask. Well, I don’t know how to ask, and I have no idea what would be good (on average I take maybe two Tylenol a year), but I think it is an interesting opportunity.

Husband and I feel incredibly fortunate that Boy is fine and that it wasn't a life-or-death situation, because we probably would have been in the wrong place. Now we know exactly where to go in case of an emergency. I was reminded that we should always figure this out, especially in foreign countries. You should, too.

Here are a couple of unrelated pics from the last week:

Art day at the Florence Nightingale School.

Art day at the Florence Nightingale School.

Parque de la Costa in Tigre, Argentina.

At Parque de la Costa in Tigre, Argentina. (Ball pit is probably what made Boy sick.)

At Parque de la Costa in Tigre, Argentina.