Entries Tagged 'Travel' ↓

One of the biggest questions I had before heading abroad was, “how will I meet people?”, despite the fact that whenever I read about someone backpacking around the world, they never failed to mention how easy it is to meet people. Common themes include how much common ground there is, how quickly it is that groups form, and how suddenly it is that you have friends upon arriving in a foreign country.

Yet, I still worried and wondered, because, after all, it can’t be that easy!

As it happens, it really is just as easy as all those articles say-  but for the sake of easing the minds of others, here’s how meeting people in hostels works.

First of all, most everyone is in the same boat as you- they’re traveling alone in a foreign country. They want to meet people, and meet people fast so that they won’t have to explore the city  alone. Also, they want to meet more people if they’ve already met people- the nature of backpacking is that no matter how great your group, people will leave.

It’s like Indiana Jones running down the hill with the boulder chasing after him- as a backpacker, you have friends, you have a group, you’re going out and doing stuff, exploring the city, living and enjoying life… yet, in the back of your mind, you know that half of the people you’re hanging out with will be gone in two days, and the rest in three. With that in mind you know you have to meet more people to prevent that boulder of crushing loneliness from rolling over you. You need to meet new people, constantly.

Fortunately, backpackers have developed a good system of meeting each other- The Five Questions, as referenced by A Map for Saturday.

So, where are you from?
How long are you traveling for?
Where have you been?
Where are you heading out to next?
What got you to start traveling?

It’s cliche’, it gets old within a matter of days, but it’s the slickest piece of social lubricant this side of whiskey.

Everyone asks the questions, everyone knows that they will be asked the questions, and everyone has mentally prepared an answer to each question. By asking any one of the five questions you’ll get to know enough about the other person to start a conversation in earnest. If the first question doesn’t provide any good conversational fodder, ask the next. And the next. And the next- trudge through it and eventually you’ll hit conversational gold.

Or, hypothetically, not. But every single time I’ve decided to meet someone I haven’t had to ask more than two questions before the conversation got started in earnest.

Just like meeting anyone, ask an open ended question, listen, and  relate- at the end of your response, take the conversation in a more interesting direction, and, voila! You’ve met someone! Just ask for their name at some point and you’re set.

Source: FotoliaEar infection in a third world country— emergency?

Nope.

After waking up in the middle of a night with my ear making a solid attempt at exploding I tried a  bunch of different home remedies to no affect. And, without any other option, I headed off the the hospital recommended by the guy working at the hostel, Hospital Espanol- which, despite the intimidating name,  apparently had English speaking doctors.

On arrival, I walked in to the scene of people bustling about as with any good hospital. I couldn’t find any place that sounded like emergency room so I walked to the pharmacy, and attempted to ask for the emergency room in pathetic Spanish.

The girl there sympathetically motioned for me to go down the hall and to the right, so I followed, and saw some doors with a sign- the sign looked like it said something along the lines of “Authorized Personnel Only”, but I decided to play dumb foreigner and walk in anyways. On walking in, I asked where to find a doctor in broken Spanish, and motioned to my ear. The nurse there asked something and then motioned to her ear exploding, and I assented to the tune of si, si, si.

From there, she led me to the part of the facility that specializes in ears, she spoke to the other nurse there, and a quick conversation, the second nurse tried to talk to me, but my lack of Spanish wasn’t helping matters. Luckily, the man next to me spoke English, and translated- she asked if I was covered by Argentinean insurance, I said no, and she informed me, rather worriedly, that I would have to pay cash for the exam. I said that’d be ok, and was led me to the cashier. The cashier asked for but sixty pesos ($20 USD ), gave me a receipt, and the nurse then led me back to the ear clinic.

From there, I waited twenty minutes, and the ear clinic nurse motioned me over. She then led me directed to the doctor, who greeted me with “You’ll have to speak slowly, but we’ll be able to understand eachother” in perfect English.

Score!

The doctor  proceeded to quickly and efficiently check my ear, ask the relevant questions about snot and symptoms, listened to a rundown of the course of my infection, and then informed me that I did indeed have an ear infection. He  explained how an ear infection works via his diagram to the side of his desk, and walked me through the medication he was prescribing , how often to take them, and wrote out the prescription. He then directed me to the pharmacy across the street.

Done!

I took the prescription, went across the street to the pharmacy, handed across the prescription, the guy took it, got the medication, I paid via debit card, and all was well.

For a $20 exam, no insurance, and a scant $25 for medication. In the US, it could well have run into the hundreds, though, to be fair, I am insured in the US, the fact that it’s possible to get excellent, knowledgeable, affordable, and efficient medical care in Argentina without insurance speaks volumes. If you’re going to get an ear infection, do it in Mendoza, Argentina, and ask your cab driver to take you to the Hospital Espanol.

Source: FlickrIn the United States, when I think of buses, I think of dirty, grimy, worn out Greyhounds transporting two bit felons to a new cities. The seats are usually uncomfortable, facilities worthless or non-existent, and the food… well, there isn’t any. Because of this, buses just aren’t a reasonable alternative to flying or driving- even the train is far preferable.

In Argentina, however, buses are an exercise in luxury, at least in first class.

Upon arriving to the bus station I entered without a ticket or any knowledge of bus schedules- I was simply hoping to get a ticket to head out that night. I found a sign that said Mendoza, then went to the corresponding desk- a quick “Descupe me ablo umpoco espanol… uhhh… Mendoza… cama?” while gesturing down for tonight got the idea across, the fellow at the desk wrote the cost and time of the bus, I asked about first class, he said it was the same on the bus- $180 pesos, or $60.

Sold.

Showed passport, payed cash,  got the ticket.
1) Painless to get ticket with short lines, even right before departure.

2) No security check or X-ray of luggage, a huge positive, especially considering that security checks are completely ineffective at everything except making passengers. Despite all the security measures in the United States, reporters are still able to sneak through bomb look a likes and weapons in a multitude of reports.

I went to the platform as the bus was about to leave so I clambered on in, got my suitcase into storage, and carried on my messenger bag. As I got to my seat I was blown away by just how nice the seat was- huge, leather, incredibly comfortable- able to recline all the way (all the way!) back, with a footrest that folds up to make the lying back position completely flat. And, as a bonus, a seatbelt! A true rarity in Argentina.

As I sat down, got my iPhone and headphones out to settle in, the attendant came up with a platter of shot glasses, and handed out little shots of Quilmes.

3) Get passengers liquored up right off the bat.

Following that, he came back with hard candies to suck on,  a small pastry, and orange juice.

4) The beginning of a trip is usually dreadful as you try to get into the passing time groove, whether that be by writing, listening to music, or reading. This period is completely avoided by keeping passengers occupied for that first stretch.

Now comfortable, with the kindly onslaught of food, drink, and Jose Gonzalez filling my earbuds, it was time for dinner- which was steak, scalloped potatoes, salad, rice, a cream filled pastry, a biscuit, and wine.

Then a wine refill.

And another refill.

It all tasted great, and the wine made it feel like an actual, bona fide meal.

5) All the pieces have to be in place for a great experience- had the food been the usual awful airline meal, it would have detracted from the rest of the trip. Rather, the bus operators took the opportunity of lowered expectations to hit a home run where others fail.

Following this, the attendant came through again with warm towels, and coffee. At this point, a movie (in Spanish, understandably enough) began playing, and I put but back the iPhone headphones, and started to explore the seat.

From there, the movie ended, the attendant came about again (agua por favor!) and drew the curtains close as the clock struck midnight. Cue a quick and comfortable drift off to sleep, interrupted only when I awoke at 3 in the morning, looked outside, and saw the most awe inspiring array of stars of my life to the tune of Sigur Ros.

If you haven’t heard Sigur Ros before, just imagine a choir of angels singing in an arctic landscape- and make it a little bit more beautiful, with a hint of crescending epicness. I tried to take a picture, but it didn’t come out- just take my word that nighttime in the Argentinean countryside is utterly, utterly gorgeous.

Upon waking, everything was right- no soreness, no aching, no wishing for the trip to end so I can get off and stretch. Just a very comfortable, slow awakening. Got out my laptop, wrote for a bit, and then the attendant came aboutwith coffee and a light breakfast.

A couple hours, and two cups of  coffee later, we arrived at Mendoza and disembarked.

They even managed to not lose my suitcase.

6) Seriously, don’t lose peoples’ luggage.

Taking the first class bus to Mendoza was the best transportation experience of my life because,  through it all, someone thought of how to make things comfortable. I not only enjoyed the experience (a bus ride!), but I loved it- and can’t wait to take another. It was so good I WANT to go on the bus, shocking as that may be.

It seems the name of the game is to either go with people you know, or go to a hostel where it’s easy to meet people, because, like most things, everything that’s awesome about Mendoza is far, far better when you’re doing it with friends. So, the the former, I highly recommend going to the Hostel Laos, which I’ll discuss more later. And, to the different activities, you absolutely have to do the Bikes and Wine vineyard pseudo-meta-tour, and the hot springs.

In general, Mendoza feels like Soho Palermo expanded out into an entire city- green, lush, and pretty upscale. It also happens to be in the middle of wine country, making for some really breathtaking views, and lots to do nearby. A couple of friends from the hostel there went on a two day trek near the Chilean border they said was incredible, staying at a The Shining like, almost deserted hotel in the middle of nowhere. Going to the hostel with a great group of five was phenomenal, just hanging out, getting surprisingly not overpriced lunch, and drifting from cold pools to hot pools to super hot pools. As one little Argentinean boy of around eight said upon putting a foot into the hot hot spring, mostly for our benefit:

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Which, I must say, sounds hilarious with a thick Argentinean accent- and, following that, in a display of what must be Argentinean super-strength, he then proceeded to sit in the water for a good ten minutes as everyone else looked on in awe. Just putting a foot in made it feel like you are causing permanent damage, every nerve on fire, scaldingly hot… until, you just don’t notice anymore. Or the nerves have died. Or something. And that’s just sitting on the ledge with legs submerged- which caused even Argentinean Super Boy to remark, in Spanish, “My balls are burning” as he stepped out. 

Though, shortly thereafter, a ridiculously good looking Argentinean couple got in, holding hands, and submerged up to their necks and lay there for a good twenty minutes, eyes closed, not moving. Anna thought it must be the Argentinean hotness shielding them from the heat, and I’d have to agree- another model-like couple did the same thing later in the day. Yowza.

The vineyards tour is also incredible, but less due to eight year old hot spring antics, and more due to gorgeous scenery, good tours, distilleries with mind blowing display cases, and the best meal I’ve ever had in my life for 35 pesos. To get to the area with the vineyards, Maipu, you just hop on a bus for $1.50 pesos- about 20 minutes later, you get off next to Bikes and Wine, go, pay either 15 pesos or 30 pesos, I forget, and in return, you get a bike and a map of the places to go. All with, I must say, some rather pimping executive bike parking for the discerning clients of Bikes and Wine- classy.  

The area immediately around Bikes and Wine was undergoing pretty heavy construction, not exactly the picture of biking through vineyards- however, upon turning onto the road for the first winery, it was precisely the picture- green, lush, vineyards on either side, overhanging trees to provide shade, with rays of light filtering through, and just a handful of bikers and an occasional car to break up the emptiness of the road. On arriving at the vineyard, Journey was playing- yes, Journey. Clearly, the soundtrack for an epic wine tour. Though, the wine tour turned out to be a bit different, the guy who ran the place took us and a Buenos Aires couple to a showroom where he explained the history of the facility, what they make, and the then walked us through the various products.

And there were a lot of them- no wine, but everything from chocolates to bizarre permutations of whisky to absinth to chocolate con leche e bananas. Just dozens of them, punctuated by the owner’s comments on the various drinks (On Absinth: “this one will make you paint like Picasso!”). After that, we went to a store/tables area where he said we could order one thing to taste, and, after that, we spent a good twenty minutes deciding what to get. When Tobacco Whisky is on the list, you know you have a lot of narrowing down to do..

After that, we went to lunch at the one place on the map- expecting some small diner sort of deal. Instead, on arriving, there was an enormous gate beyond which appeared to be another vineyard. Buzz in, the gate slides to the side, and we bike in- very classy building, table area to the left, parking ahead. On getting to the parking area (with our executive bike parking), the guard told us to wait. Then, after a minute or so, a girl came out and explained that it’s 35 pesos for lunch, and there is no menu- lunch is steak, potatoes, salad, and then desert of a pastry on ice cream. Which sounded good, so we followed her to the table. She then brought out an enormous bread basket, and we took stock of the surroundings.

It was seriously just mindblowing- a beautiful garden, pool, a handful of tables on a terrace with only one other group, vineyards to the side, and sunlight doing that filtering through the leaves thing, which never gets old. In the background, cheesy lounge music was playing- which, after listening, turned out to be a lounge cover of Radiohead’s Creep… albeit with modified lyrics. I guess 

“I wish I was special/ 

so fucking special,”

Doesn’t play well with the lounge crowd. 

But, the meal was just amazing. They may make only one thing, but they damned well know how to make it. The steak was enormous, juicy, and delicious- the best I’ve ever had. Everything was delicious, and the perfect ambiance didn’t hurt matters. 

Just phenomenal. 

Following that, we got a veritable wine tour at a veritable winery, so now I actually know what Malbec is versus a Chardonnay instead of just picking blindly from the wine list, and the tour was pretty interesting in its own right. After that, it was on to an olive oil place, but by the time we got there it was late enough that we had to leave right away to get back to the Bikes and Wine place before it closed. Great day though, and cheap, when you discount the urge to buy way too much stuff from the distillery place. Thank god for a lack of room in luggage.

Outside of that, it’s mostly just exploring the city, maybe taking part in other activities like rafting, paragliding, or horseback riding in the area, and just enjoying the change the place. 

With all that said, the last point here is really just this- stay at the Hostel Laos, period. It’s easy to arrange activities, it’s easy to meet people, everyone’s friendly, hammocks are there if you’re waiting for a room, breakfast is decent (impressive for a hostel), wireless is free and only slightly flakey, you can work wirelessly from a hammock when you put one and one together, leading to the ability to casually drop the fact that you are typing from a hammock in Mendoza, Argentina on a wireless connection in instant messaging conversations, and it’s just got a great vibe. Plus it’s cheap- 30 pesos (~$10 USD) for a bed, $20 pesos ($6.50 USD) for a hammock when you’re waiting for a bed. 

Unfortunately, though, my trip here was cut short, and my plans pretty well screwed up, since I stupidly got myself an ear infection, by going to hot springs with a lingering cold, and then sleeping outside in a hammock that night because I didn’t book a bed for long enough. Waking up in a hammock to a gorgeous sunrise with birds chirping is great, but waking up to throbbing ear pain, not so much- but, on the plus side, I got to try out health care in Argentina, so I’ll make a post on that later. 

Needless to say, it’s great, and I got an exam and a course of antibiotics for $60 US, $20 for exam, $40 for the three medications (antibiotics, pain, and cough) It’s all good, or will be in a day or two, but I’m not going back to Buenos Aires to be lazy for a week instead of paragliding in Cordoba, since something about having an ear infection puts a wrench in being outside and doing stuff. Funny how the works. 

But, ear infections due to unbridled personal stupidity, and kindly English speaking doctors to save my ass, aside, Mendoza was fantastic, and I can’t wait to go back at some point- definitely recommended.

Wine country ahoy!

Prior to arriving in Argentina, I had never heard of Mendoza, ever. However, as people in Buenos Aires came and went, one of the five questions that everyone asks everyone is “So, where have you been?”. And one of the answers that continuously came up was Mendoza- nothing specific about it, just that it’s beautiful and that they had a great time.

Fair enough.

So, when I decided that I’d done enough “just two more days” extensions in Buenos Aires, it came to decide where I was heading next- I narrowed it down to Mendoza and Barioloche. I chose Mendoza because it’s cheaper. 

So, upon arriving (the method of arrival bears its own post), I wasn’t much impressed- there was no oomph, no “my god look at that!”, no awe inspiring slums, it was just… a bus terminal. And a road. And… people getting taxis to get on the road. And so I decided to follow suit. 

And, in true falling face first traveling form, I hadn’t arranged for a hostel. I’d started to, as I went out the door of the hostel, but then I remembered that I only had an hour to spare, and off I went without knowing if the reservation had gone through.

First stop, then, was the hostel I may or may not have a reservation for- on arriving, they were full and there was no reservation. Oops. So, I started walking, looking for a new hostel- and found one. And they had room. And there were people lounging around. And there was free wi-fi, yet, there was a weird vibe to the place. No community, no people meeting eachother, just small groups whispering. Creepy. But, hey, it’s a place to stay, so I cracked open my MacBook and looked on HostelWorld.com for reviews of the hostel I’d wound up at- turns out, horrible rooms, disgusting showers, nothing going on, small groups creepily congregating, stuff gets stolen. 

With that, it was on to finding a new hostel, and I settled on Hostel Laos, which had the advantage of being the second highest rated hostel in all South America, and the highest rated hostel in Mendoza. There was no availability shown, but the page said they keep hammocks for walk-ins to sleep in until a room’s available. So, I left, got a taxi, and arrived- the guy who opened the door said they might have room, and that I could wait in the living room area in the meantime. 

Sitting down and looking around, the entire place was very, very nice- comfortable, homey, people talking, people lounging in hammocks, sunbathing, discussing travels and plans, and generally being active. Vibe++. 

Sitting down, another guy was sitting to my side reading a magazine waiting, so, wanting to meet new people now that I had reset my people I know counter to zero, I asked him something, I forget what, and we started talking- his name was Jared, from Anchorage, traveling to Columbia to teach English for six months, and taking a jaunt out to Argentina first, just getting in right then. And, as a new girl, Anna, arrived and joined the conversation- she was taking a wine country breather before heading to Buenos Aires for a semester abroad in a homestay.  

The five questions then went around until I found out I had a hammock (score!) for the night and a room for the rest of the four nights, With that, I put my stuff into storage, came back, and the three of us decided to go check out the city. 

Walking along, the city turned out to be very beautiful, and very relaxed- it didn’t have the manic pace of Buenos Aires, it was just as green, except green everywhere, not just in the bubble. Walking out of the city, on either side were enormous mansions, trees forming an overhang above the road, shading us walking below. The mountains on the horizon were omnipresent, always there, always beautiful, always enormous- the entire city seemed to be surrounded by them. Walking more, we reached a huge roundabout with ornate stonework, and, to the side, there was a restaurant- we stopped, got lunch, and then continued on, towards some kind of hill that apparently had a nice view. Jared had heard someone talking about it, so we followed the map, kind of, to where it was. And, on the way, we found a small shop and got a big water bottle (sin gas por favore) and a bottle of wine (10 pesos) for when we arrived.

And, eventually, we found the hill- it was this long path upwards, switching back left and right up the face, so we started trekking on up and, eventually, got there- and it was beautiful. In front of us was this huge, sprawling, lush view of Argentinian vineyards and mountains, rolling hills, sharp peaks, and clouds moving along the otherwise pure blue sky. In other words, it was really, really nice- we stayed up there for a good hour and a half, maybe two 

As we walked back, though, the clouds got greyer, and greyer, and greyer- and then it started sprinkling, which was kind of nice. Then it started raining. Then it started pouring- everywhere, the heavens opening up and the rain just. Kept. Coming. After running from tree to tree for a while, drenched, we were able to hail a cab back to the hostel, where we lounged about for a good time,  then headed out to yet another awesome steak dinner. 

Not too shabby for a first day.

I like bubbles.

In the nicer parts of Buenos Aires, the streets are wide and lined with trees, providing shade everywhere, cafes and restaurants are all over the place, with outdoor seating all about. Things are perfectly safe, outside of the general big city crime, for which commonsense precautions absolve most all fears.

There’s a huge variety of things to do, walking about conveys a sense of sophistication, both from the people and from the city itself, in language, in fashion, and in general taste. Walking up Santa Fe Avenue, the main drag through which one can transverse Palermo, shops abound selling anything you might need, and the names and merchandise are no different than what one might expect from Union Square in San Francsico.

Modest Mouse bellows from the taxi’s radio, t-shirts with Lost catchphrases are displayed in windows, TVs appear to be permanently affixed to Friends, and, in general, the city does not match what one expects from a South American country.

At the same time that there is so much familiar, there is no mistaking that this is a foreign country, and a foreign city, from the architecture to the adrenaline spiking taxi rides to the entire vibe of the place. Things move at a much slower speed, people seem to take their time, savor the moment, and not take their job that seriously. On the one hand, that’s awesome, because it makes things much more natural in general, on the other hand, it means you might wait ages for the cashier to finish up his conversation.

There’s tons to do all over the place, the first week I was in BsAs, there was a Jose Gonzalez concert that was absolutely perfect in every way- small two story club with tables out, everyone sipping wine, soft red lighting illuminating the area, and a great crowd.

Every Monday, there’s a drum concert called La Bomba de Tiempo filled with Argentinian hipsters dancing like crazy to improvised and incredible music, and sipping giant enormous absurdly oversized beers- if people weren’t speaking Spanish, you might think you were in the Mission District of San Francisco… despite the pronounced lack of corduroy jackets.

People are very friendly in general, and incredibly understanding if you speak no Spanish- a quick descupe me, ablo umpoco espanol (Sorry, I speak very little Spanish…) helps a lot. From there it’s just a matter of impassioned miming- words are overrated.

Food is cheap, and delicious- $10USD a person in a group of four or five gets everyone an enormous steak, salad, and two bottles of wine to go around. Outdoor bars are all over, pitchers of beer are cheap, and it’s easy to stay out until 5AM and not even realize it- speaking of which, the very schedule of Buenos Aires is a boon. People usually go to dinner around 10pm, bars only start filling up between 1-3AM. You really can’t beat it.

Not everything’s perfect, because we are talking about a bubble here- the majority of Argentineans live on less than a dollar a day, there are sprawling slums and shantytowns when you drive into the city, in Palermo you are essentially surrounded by the Argentinean elite and expats, and the entire experience is colored by the lens of a $3ARS:$1USD exchange rate- you go to the bank, and your money triples. Prices are mostly the same as in the United States, it’s just that you get to divide by three… with electronics being the notable exception.

But, if you’re ok being in a bubble, I can’t recommend Buenos Aires enough… and here’s the specific recommendations:

Hostel
Hostel Suites- Palermo
Charcas 4752

Great, laid back atmosphere, awesome staff, reasonably priced ($10USD/night), and a patio area for smoking that people congregate and meet eachother in. Just by sitting at one of the tables people come over, have a smoke, start talking, and soon enough you’re in a group of eight people going out to dinner. By the end of the night, everyone knows everyone, and then you are solo-traveling no more.

I planned on staying in Buenos Aires for four days or so once I decided to travel instead of live in Argentina right off the bat, and wound up staying two weeks… a large part of that was just how awesome this hostel was.

Restaurant
Defensa 855

Yeah, suckage I don’t know the name of the place- just tell your taxi driver to take you to Defensa 855 in San Telmo, it’s about 20 pesos from Palermo, and a nice ride in its own right. This is mostly a local Argentinean joint, amazing food, huge, juicy steaks, cheap prices, cheap wine, and a great atmosphere, and just a great place to spend a few hours with friends. I went here twice, and it was phenomenal both times.

Definitely check this place out if you go to Buenos Aires.

Post-Dinner
Plaza Serrano

Bars and restaurants surrounding a playground, at night the plaza is filled with people meeting up and staying out until early in the morning. The restaurants are tourist traps and overpriced as hell, but the bars are reasonable, and there’s something very, very cool about sitting and hanging out in the outside tables that surround the plaza until early in the morning.

Non-Bar Post-Dinner: 
La Cathedral 
Sarmiento 4066

I don’t know if they actually do in fact have tango here, but I went with a friend from the hostel and it was empty on a Sunday at 1am aside from a group of four Argentineans standing in the corner. However, this just added to the movie-like excellenge of it all- a mindblowingly beautiful building, brilliantly kitschy (and comfortable!) furniture, gorgeous lighting, mood-settingly perfect music, and a cat just kind of chilling in the middle of the spotlight. Great place to go to just talk and have a bottle of wine before heading home. Just incredible.

Bookstore: 
Cr

This is going to be the post pair in an ongoing series where I will post my impressions of a city when I first get to it, what it’s like touching down/arriving in, getting into the city, and wandering about/going out for the first time in the city.

In Buenos Aires’ case, be forewarned that there may be a tinge of “Holy shit, I’m in Argentina!” sprinkled throughout, as this is the first leg of my traveling. 

When I first decided to visit Argentina, my plan was to move to Buenos Aires for at least three months, show up, get an apartment pre-arranged via Craigslist, learn Spanish, and try living here.

Cue flight to BsAs, quickly aborted attempts to sleep, and the remembrance of a certain movie I’d long past ripped to my MacBook. 

That movie was A Map for Saturday, a movie about a TV Producer’s journey from ‘Hey, I should travel around the world’ to ‘I’m traveling around the world!” and then the adventures and people he encountered along the way of his year-long sojourn. I’d received the movie for my birthday after reading about it on Tim Ferriss’ The Four Hour Work Week Blog, and had decided not to watch it until I had quit my job and was on a flight to a foreign country.

Cue having quit the week prior and being on a flight to a foreign country.

Quick sync to my iPhone, voila, it’s showtime.

A Map For Saturday turned out to be, simply enough, one of the most beautiful and inspirational movies I have ever seen in my life- the experiences documented weren’t all positive, not by a long stretch, but the entire film was so well-done, and such an excellent chronicle of such an ‘out there’ experience, such a momentous and yet easily accomplished journey, that my mouth was agape half the time.

And then I watched it again.

Just like that, living in Buenos Aires lost much of its appeal, and I began to fear I’d made a bad decision by lining up an apartment ahead of time- I spent the rest of the flight writing in my journal and trying to sleep, all the while trying to puzzle out exactly what the hell I wanted to do, having created for myself a job that I could work from anywhere on (web development) and (hopefully) make (hopefully) enough money that I could (hopefully) live anywhere in the world. And, based on that, quit.

So, I continued to think it through as we touched touched down at  Ezeiza International Airport- the entire area was surprisingly barren, almost deserted. The airport was small, almost dinky- all in all, an exciting first impression of total unfamiliarity. Always a good thing when starting to travel.

Getting off, the air was nice and warm (scorching), and, walking into the terminal, I was immediately faced with Customs/Immigration- which turned out to be, fortunately enough, a joke- since I’m almost positive I filled out the entry form wrong. The guy manning the desk motioned for my passport, I put it through, he just glanced at the front, opened it, punched it with a stamp, and waved me through- Argentina ahoy.

After that, there was a second X-ray cehck, though no one was watching the monitor. Security seemed to be non-existent, a definite plus for staying in the country long-term. As suggested on numerous Argentinian expatriate sites, overstaying a three month tourist visa would appear to be simple exercise.

Though, of course, that would be wrong- stay in school, just say no, and don’t overstay your visa in foreign countries, mmkay?  

Walking into the main entryway, suitcase in hand and messenger bag across shoulder, I walked to the taxi stand and arranged for a taxi to the hostel- in English, thankfully. Surprisingly, people in Argentina, a Spanish-speaking country, seem to speak Spanish a lot. Reminds me of the quote about how Americans travelling abroad are always surprised to discover that, despite all the progress made in the last thirty years, foreign people in foreign countries still speak foreign languages.

Funny how that works.

The taxi ride was an exercise in insanity, after hopping in the driver immediately took off, and I realized there was no seatbelt- though, there were open windows, a nice breeze, and a new country to look about at. Which, at first, wasn’t much to look at- since Ezeiza is within the sprawl of Buenos Aires the first places you see are the slummy areas to the sides of the highway- shantytowns, rundown areas, and generally poor and overcrowded living conditions. I’d booked a hostel in the heart of the upper-class Buenos Aires bubble, Soho Palermo, so I had an image of what it would be like. 

As we veered (rocketed) off the highway, we were on a long road which was simultaneously beautiful and dirty- elegant decay, I’ve heard it referred to. The architecture was a mix of old European style manors, larger Roman style buildings, smaller Spanish style establishments, the pseudo-modern, and the quasi-poor. All a bit rundown- not necessarily in a bad way, but, rather, in a slightly dirty and gritty way. At first things tended more to the dirty and gritty side and less to the elegant- there were a bit of trees on either side of the road, providing shade, but there was just something missing- it wasn’t how I’d picture things to be.

But, as we drove, things got progressively nicer and more green, more trees, nicer buildings, happier and better dressed people. And, eventually, we’d arrived in the bubble! 

I stayed at Hostel Suites - Palermo, which is an old mansion converted into a hostel. Odd to think that some old baron held fine dinner parties in the same place that people from all over the world now hold drinking games to the tune of Obama’s primary returns.

Checking in, I’d been expecting to drop my stuff off, lock it, head off for the Craigslist meeting to get the apartment, and then go back, get the money, pay, and move in. But, already being late for the meeting, I found that my laptop was powerless, my iPhone wasn’t able to access the Argentinean networks, constantly getting a vague error, and I had no power converter.

Oops.

Oh, and I’d forgotten to bring a lock also- this is the time that I started to question my falling face first forward approach to traveling. 

But, before I could feel too overwhelmed, another person staying in the hostel came in and introduced himself… in Spanish. At this point, I didn’t know enough to even say that I don’t speak Spanish, so I fired off a stilted hola, gave a deer in the headlights look when he said something else, and he then said that one beautiful word: English?

Switching gears to a language I can usually comprehend, we started talking- [Daniel] was from [Toronto] by way of Switzerland, working a web development job, and had just taken off for six months of South American wanderlust before starting a new job- as he’d been all over South America, and Argentina, at this point, with his trip ending the next day, I pumped him for his travel stories, his story on how he’d wound up in [Toronto], and random other things until I realized how late I now was for an appointment I still intended to keep. Before I headed out, Daniel explained about locotoriums, the ubiquitous phone/internet cafes, and what kind of taxis to take to prevent being kidnapped and taken to banks to withdraw all your money for ransom.

Good to know.

From there, the day was a whirlwind of trying to get cash, as I had spent all the money I’d converted to Argentinian Pesos on cab fare ($80ARS/$25), and deposit for the hostel (I forget). Bad move, so I went to the ATM to get cash out, only to discover that the ATM wasn’t taking my card. Nor was the next ATM, or the next one, or the next one- or any one, for that matter. At this point I spent a good three hours frantically trying various ATMs in a panic that I was in a foreign country, without money, no way of paying for a hostel bed, and unable to speak the language. 

Fortunately, though, remembering the locotorium suggestion, I found one, went in, fumblingly asked for a $5 peso card (leaving a single $2ARS note), called the bank, couldn’t get it to go through (the recording was in Spanish for some bizarre reason, imagine that!), and had the good fortune of the locotorium staff switching shifts, bringing in a girl who spoke great English- she walked me through it, put in the numbers for me, and, soon enough, I was connected to Washington Mutual, my bank. 

As I tried to explain the situation, the woman quickly cut in that I’d been blocked for possibly fraudulent charges- I’d taken dollars out in San Francisco, then Washington Dulles, then tried to in Buenos Aires (seventeen times). I agreed that that might be a wee bit sketchy, but that I’m currently in Buenos Aires, she transferred me to the Fraud Department, they unblocked me, and, gloriously, the next time I tried the ATM, $290 beautiful, beautiful pesos came out. 

Wiped by the long flight and ATM troubles, I headed back to the hostel, where it was by now dark, went to the patio area and talked with all the people hanging out there- until about three in the morning. And, the next day, the whole solo traveling thing was gone- after a single day, I’d met enough people that it was no longer traveling alone, but going out to dinner and drinks with groups from the hostel, from countries all over the world. Good times indeed- but this is where the post leaves off, with the conclusion of my first day in Buenos Aires. 

A post to come will be a Post-Game of my trip to BsAs, places to stay, places to go to dinner, places to go to hang out and drink, and the place to go for the most mindblowingly amazing weekly drum concert on the face of the planet. Basically, my travel guide to BsAs based on my time there. From now on, whenever I go to a city I’ll write at least two posts- the first impressions/first day, and the post-game/travel guide. I figure that within about three months there should be enough content here for the site to be a legitimate travel resource, and hopefully a boon to anyone looking to visit South America, or wherever I happen to be in three months. 

Good times ahead.