Photos of our apartment

Settling in

Although someone disabused Nate's pocket of our camera on the subway last week, we still have been constantly amazed by how nice people are here. There's a sort of warmth that is evident in lots of small ways constantly. Everyone -- men, women, old friends, people you just met -- kiss on one cheek in greeting. I'm not used to this yet, and I still extend my hand when I meet someone, though this is starting to feel a bit rude at this point. The subways are horrendously packed at some times of day, but people still squeeze together to let one more person on. Yesterday we stopped into a local parilla, which is a temple of hot, dripping grilled meat of all sorts, and an old man who struck up a conversation invited us over to his house for a cup of coffee. We didn't go, but still, that was awesome.

There are plenty of other reminders that we're not in the US anymore:
1. It's not clear who has right of way at intersections, but it's definitely not the pedestrian.
2. Take the dog for a walk. Encourage the dog to lay a robust, glistening poo in the middle of the sidewalk. Continue to walk.*
3. I wanted to make chocolate chip cookies for a party we're going to tonight. I managed to find baking soda (bicarbonato de sodio) at the spice stall in the market, but baking powder? "Yes, uh, I'm looking for a white powder chemical to make big the cake, and is like baking soda, but not exactly the same thing. Have this you?" No go. Also a no go on brown sugar. So I will try brownies instead.

* This calls for vigilance on the part of the pedestrian. These healthy looking fresh turds have also taken over my subconscious, and have appeared in my dreams pretty much every night.

We find an apartment (quizas)

First, breakfast: I discover that medialunes go well with dulce de leche:

Note that most of the spreading surface has already disappeared. We walk through San Telmo - beautiful buildings, trash bags (all ripped open and picked apart), diesel fumes, tiny sidewalks, graffiti, a poverty and luxury mashup.

I kept pointing out the pretty buildings - I know it's not hip but I love all the classical ornaments. "You just like anything that looks like Paris," Beth said. Okay, guilty. I wanted to take pictures of some of the impressive stuff near La Plaza de Mayo but Beth focused on me instead.

No, not Blue Steel. I call this look: Pensive Tungsten.

We found a Spanish school that a friend had recommended and were quickly gaslighted into signing up for a one week intensive. They were very nice and it will certainly do me good. When I ask about how to say, use the WiFi the literal translation is usually something like: "How is it that the orderly's signal is sounding? Sparking is badness?" Also downtown: unbelievably bad traffic across what seemed like 15 lanes, honking like 10,000 geese all caught in the same net. And many big buildings. This is a huge city. Beth found an architectural idea that spoke to her:

Not Parisian.

We walked (and walked) to check out the locations of various potential apartments. Then, near the end of the day I got an email from an agent indicating that our top choice so far was available. I'm going to the office first thing in the morning to try and lock it down. It may still fall through, so I won't say anything yet, but it looks pretty nice - tiny but lovely. Shouldn't get my hopes up, I hear these sometimes fail.
The sun fell as we were walking through a quieter neighborhood, and it gilded the houses with chilly golden light. It's winter here, though it's warming up - and there is that smell of plant life beginning to stir. We took the subway back to la Plaza de Mayo and caught a free concert of tango music. I was going to upload a bit but it took forever then had an error. Grr.

Loads of photos

I've never been a photog - especially on vacations, but having an audience makes it a little more interesting. So let's start at the beginning:

 That's breakfast - cafe con leche y medialunes, i.e. mini croissants. They come in sets of two or three, and they seem to often have some kind of flavoring which varies - haven't figured that out yet. Not the little chocolates: All coffees seem to come with some nice little token like this. After that we decided to get to know the city by executing a classic tourist mission: Visit the Recoleta Cemetery and find the Evita's tomb. We knew we were close when we saw the Hard Rock Cafe (the ubiquitous symbol for an obligatory tourist stop.)

Necropolis: Crazy optical illusion, eh? Beth is actually strapped and hoisted up that wall (okay fine, I was just too lazy to rotate).

Interesting place to wander around. The idea that a family would persist in one place forever to keep up (and fill up) the tombs is a little mind-boggling in this peregrine age. My favorites were the ones build by friends or collaborators - because it seems to indicate such powerful and unusual love. I expect familial love - along with self-interest (that is, I maintain this tomb-keeping tradition because it reflects on my good name), but to spend a small fortune and make repairs every year for a friend? That's special.
We walked around Recoleta, a neighborhood with lots of swanky high rises, trees, private schools, and parks (basically the upper east side). I was fascinated by the size of the knockers. Really - here's a picture:

Actually, this one was in Palermo (another neighborhood), the ones in Recoleta are even bigger - ridiculously big. My hypothesis (name a topic and I'll give you a hypothesis) is that the bigger the knocker the bigger the implied house (got to knock really loud so that Jeeves can hear at his quarters midway through the mansion), so in areas where real estate confers status, it pays to bolt a big daddy to your door (that's based on no facts whatsoever).
Okay back to the important stuff:

Note how lovingly Beth gazes upon el lomo.

This was at a place called Federal near our place in San Telmo. Beth ordered a "salad" consisting of (and this is all true), raw onion, tuna fish, instant rice, and an egg. That's it. Surprisingly, that little culinary experiment didn't turn out too well - but she loved her Sprite which seems to have more flavor here. Fortunately, my steak was enough for us both.

Not quite as delicious as the night before but still amazing grass-fed beef. And those are papas rejillas. FYI: salsa golf = thousand island.

Quick morning note

(Nate) We are heading out today to look at an apartment, and a Spanish language school, and maybe find something to see here

(Beth) Hour 5 in Buenos Aires, and we already have happy bellies full of grilled steak and french fries.  Can someone please remind me why all the tofu and chard at home? We are staying with a couple who rent out a couple of rooms in their home in the old part of the city, San Telmo.  They have been very kind to us.  He is Canadian and she is Mexican.  They recently rescued Marco, a stray dog who is sleeping on the floor right now, with frequent spasms like he's chasing a rabbit in a dream.  He has an ear infection, but he still seems very satisfied with his boring new life.  They offered us coins for the bus, heated up the hot tub on the roof, and invited us to a Brazilian drumming performance tonight.  We took them up on the hot tub, but not the drums.  I am happy to have someone with local knowledge to help us out.
      We don't stick out here.  I even saw a guy taller than Nate.  Though one street merchant did yell out as we passed, "Hola!  Amigos!  ...  (H)ar--ry--Po--tter!"  At us?  Not sure.  Nate does have a boyish charm.

The "before" picture. In the taxi after 24 hours of travel. What will we look like after?

Items to research:
1. Trotsky.  He's so hot here.  We saw a young woman putting up a poster for the upcoming anniversary of his assassination, and in one of the only conversations we've had with a native porteno, "trotskyite" came up a few times.