Gathering in Phoenix over the holidays is a wise idea. The sun is shining and I can still wear my Tevas. On the bus to pick up my car rental I struck up a conversation with the man to my left. "So where is home?" I say. "Well I have a house in Portland. I am heading to Tuscon and just came from Virginia. Before that I was in Australia and New Zealand. I am in the lumber business and looking for connections in Europe. The Euro is so strong that it is a great time for export." So how do I get so much information is such a short time? Maybe it is the therapist in me or just my curious nature but everyone has a story to tell and I want to hear it. Bottom line is he loves to travel so in just ten minutes we have connected, kindred spirits that we are.
I do love to travel. But I also know that if I am going to spend time with my people it just comes with the turf. So Shaun and I gathered in Phoenix with family here and I made my calls to those close at heart living or traveling in New York, Chicago, St. Joseph, Pennsylvania, California and Colorado.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
The Dalmatian Coast and Dubrovnik...Wanderlust in Croatia Continued
Neither my imagination nor any picture in a travelogue matched the reality of the Dalmatian Coast. Most impressive was the drive along the coast from Split to Dubrovnik in Croatia and then through the checkpoint into Bosnia. It was difficult to fathom what this amazing area looked liked during the war. And once in Dubrovnik the reality of what these people experienced during the war began to sink in. Walking the wall around the old city it was evident the number of new roofs necessary to replace the devastated old structures. The war memorial honored those Croatians who lost lives during the siege by the Serbs. And pictures showed the rubble in the streets left by the bombs dropped on this city. The “Pearl of the Adriatic” belonged to the world and the world was outraged when Dubrovnik was under attack.
The owner of the sobe where I rented a room told me that she stayed through most of the war protecting her home and caring for her community but even she had to leave for a two month period during the most horrific times. I ask her how one heals from such pain and she tells me it has not been easy. She did not lose family but knows many who did and though she is able to host Serbs visiting Dubrovnik from Bosnia or Montenegro it is with a heavy heart. Perhaps with time she says, then stops mid sentence. I am sure she wonders if that is true.
It was a short trip this time and though there were moments along the way to pause and digest the experience it was on the flight home that I went back to that original question. So what does intrigue me so much about travel? Part of the draw is the human spirit. No matter where I travel I am reminded how similar we are as humans. It is no longer of interest to me to note the differences though those are visible. I am now more curious about our similarities. The underlying themes of love and fear drive so much of human behavior. The other piece is seeing more clearly who I am. Wherever I go I am always there and without the trappings of familiarity and routine the view is clearer. Some of those personality traits I like. Some I wish were different. But most have been with me a lifetime. When on the road my understanding of self is deepened and stretched by those I encounter. My hope is that I also touch those who share a moment in time with me.
The owner of the sobe where I rented a room told me that she stayed through most of the war protecting her home and caring for her community but even she had to leave for a two month period during the most horrific times. I ask her how one heals from such pain and she tells me it has not been easy. She did not lose family but knows many who did and though she is able to host Serbs visiting Dubrovnik from Bosnia or Montenegro it is with a heavy heart. Perhaps with time she says, then stops mid sentence. I am sure she wonders if that is true.
It was a short trip this time and though there were moments along the way to pause and digest the experience it was on the flight home that I went back to that original question. So what does intrigue me so much about travel? Part of the draw is the human spirit. No matter where I travel I am reminded how similar we are as humans. It is no longer of interest to me to note the differences though those are visible. I am now more curious about our similarities. The underlying themes of love and fear drive so much of human behavior. The other piece is seeing more clearly who I am. Wherever I go I am always there and without the trappings of familiarity and routine the view is clearer. Some of those personality traits I like. Some I wish were different. But most have been with me a lifetime. When on the road my understanding of self is deepened and stretched by those I encounter. My hope is that I also touch those who share a moment in time with me.
Zagreb...Wanderlust in Croatia Continued....
Of course, I walked the city and did the tourist thing of visiting the sights covered in the guidebooks but it is the life of the locals that intrigues me the most. So when I saw a sign for the Film Festival that very week I was all about it. Most films had English subtitles which opened options for me. The one from New Zealand, “Shark vs. Eagle”, captured my attention. Waiting at the student center to enter the theater I observed the crowd. I was certainly among the oldest and few that were speaking English. When the doors opened I wondered if I would live to tell of it. You hear about people being trampled in crowds. I could hear my friends saying at the memorial “She always loved movies!” Seriously, the shove was intense and lack of smooth system for collecting tickets was striking. Once in the very large theater the size of the crowd was even more noticeable as many began to find space to sit on the floor. The welcoming speech was in both English and Croatian. The director, Taika Waititi, introduced his film and excitement was palpable. The tender story explored the human challenge of relationship and the audience showed appreciation with rousing applause.
A few more attempts to immerse with the locals before departure was the requisite gym visit and riding the tram to a local shopping mall in the outlying areas. The further away from the tourist scene the more language became a challenge. At the gym had I been able to speak Croatian or German I could have negotiated the deal for a day pass with the woman who worked the front desk. But a trainer conversant in English wasn’t far away and the added benefit was his willingness to extend a complimentary pass. I notice how much I enjoyed not understanding a word that was spoken as I worked through my routine. I thought how much more interesting another’s conversation was when I don’t understand a word. The imagination has a way of weaving tales when the reality is likely much more mundane.
On the tram the ticket system baffled me and the driver could speak no English. But a young couple gave me the skinny; “Just shrug your shoulders”, they said, “and you can ride free. They go easy on foreigners.” The added plus is that I learned a bit more about Zagreb and Croatia from this engaging couple. As I head back to the city center on tram after perusing local shopping I think that shortly I will leave Zagreb for the Dalmatian Coast and feel excited about the thought of the warmer salt air that awaits me.
A few more attempts to immerse with the locals before departure was the requisite gym visit and riding the tram to a local shopping mall in the outlying areas. The further away from the tourist scene the more language became a challenge. At the gym had I been able to speak Croatian or German I could have negotiated the deal for a day pass with the woman who worked the front desk. But a trainer conversant in English wasn’t far away and the added benefit was his willingness to extend a complimentary pass. I notice how much I enjoyed not understanding a word that was spoken as I worked through my routine. I thought how much more interesting another’s conversation was when I don’t understand a word. The imagination has a way of weaving tales when the reality is likely much more mundane.
On the tram the ticket system baffled me and the driver could speak no English. But a young couple gave me the skinny; “Just shrug your shoulders”, they said, “and you can ride free. They go easy on foreigners.” The added plus is that I learned a bit more about Zagreb and Croatia from this engaging couple. As I head back to the city center on tram after perusing local shopping I think that shortly I will leave Zagreb for the Dalmatian Coast and feel excited about the thought of the warmer salt air that awaits me.
Wanderlust in Croatia
So you ask, “What is it that intrigues you so much about travel?” When at home and into my routine I do ponder this question and pose very intellectual responses. Then when I arrived in Zagreb after a day of boarding three planes to travel from Corfu I did wonder myself the wisdom of my wanderlust. But just a short time after walking the streets in the rain the following morning, I was reminded again of the excitement I feel when stimulated by unfamiliar sites and sounds.
Zagreb is energetic and very much how I pictured an Eastern European city. Somehow the dreary rainy day added to the scene rather than detracting. The maze of umbrellas moved as one covering for those in the streets. Women in stylish boots mixed with those in more traditional practical shoes were visible everywhere. I looked for words to capture my take on this city and found a few in the Lonely Planet guidebook. Lines that spoke my sentiments included, “a good deal of old-world graciousness and sober Austro-Hungarian buildings mark Zagreb.”
Though I wanted to stop and sip an espresso while digesting my surroundings I knew my time was short in Croatia and I had few plans in place for the week to come. Part of arriving without a plan is the process of checking my mood and what suits at the moment. Heading to the Dalmatian coast was a must but how and when was yet unanswered. My luck with trains when traveling is not the best so there was little surprise when I learned that the train tracks just happened to be under repair for the week of my intended travels. Long hours on the bus after long hours in planes did not suit. The decision to fly to Split was an easy one.
Standing at the counter of the travel agency I would have thought I had stepped back in time if it had not been for internet connections and questions about my mobile number. In less than an hour the itinerary was set. Fly to Split, overnight there with time to wander through Diocletian’s Palace, imposing Roman ruins that have been named a UNESCO site, then bus to Dubrovnik along the Dalmatian coast and through Bosnia. As I contemplated these plans I recalled seeing “Out of Sarajevo” and thought of the turmoil in this part of the world just 15 years ago. But the day was young and I had 24hours to discover the highpoints of Zagreb.
Zagreb is energetic and very much how I pictured an Eastern European city. Somehow the dreary rainy day added to the scene rather than detracting. The maze of umbrellas moved as one covering for those in the streets. Women in stylish boots mixed with those in more traditional practical shoes were visible everywhere. I looked for words to capture my take on this city and found a few in the Lonely Planet guidebook. Lines that spoke my sentiments included, “a good deal of old-world graciousness and sober Austro-Hungarian buildings mark Zagreb.”
Though I wanted to stop and sip an espresso while digesting my surroundings I knew my time was short in Croatia and I had few plans in place for the week to come. Part of arriving without a plan is the process of checking my mood and what suits at the moment. Heading to the Dalmatian coast was a must but how and when was yet unanswered. My luck with trains when traveling is not the best so there was little surprise when I learned that the train tracks just happened to be under repair for the week of my intended travels. Long hours on the bus after long hours in planes did not suit. The decision to fly to Split was an easy one.
Standing at the counter of the travel agency I would have thought I had stepped back in time if it had not been for internet connections and questions about my mobile number. In less than an hour the itinerary was set. Fly to Split, overnight there with time to wander through Diocletian’s Palace, imposing Roman ruins that have been named a UNESCO site, then bus to Dubrovnik along the Dalmatian coast and through Bosnia. As I contemplated these plans I recalled seeing “Out of Sarajevo” and thought of the turmoil in this part of the world just 15 years ago. But the day was young and I had 24hours to discover the highpoints of Zagreb.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
She said..."It is time for an update,girl!"
Yes, Dixie, I have been remiss. So where in the world have I been the past six plus months you may wonder. On a journey, as is usually the case. Mostly checking out my home town, Chicago, in gypsy fashion. Life has a way of coming full circle and my return to the windy city is part of this circle. It has been twenty five years since I lived here but I never stopped claiming it as home. When asked, "where are you from?" the answer never changed no matter where I lived. Yes, I am from Chicago. It is in my blood and these past few months have reminded me how much history is here for me. There is a certain energy in this city that has excitement and allure. I find myself smiling as I walk the streets and make eye contact with so many diverse faces. The richness draws me. But for those of you who know me you know that though I have a place to land I won't stay put for long nor will I leave St. Joe. I seem to do best when on an adventure and exploring possibility. And also for those who know me you know that Chicago was probably not the only site these feet set foot these past few months.
So where else in the world was Maureen? Of course, Denver, you know has become an extension of my neighborhood but Europe beckoned. So it was a week on catamaran leading a retreat on the Ionian Sea followed by a week solo exploring Croatia. When traveling on bus along the Dalmation coast I couldn't stop thinking about this area just fifteen years ago. At the border crossing in Bosnia my thoughts went to the movie "Out of Sarajevo". When in Dubrovnik staying at a women's house in the old city I asked for her story. Though all looked so beautiful the horror of the war remained in the hearts of those who lived through the devastation. Though my travels take me to different lands with different people I am no longer as drawn to the differences but more to our similiarities.... our common human struggle for connection and understanding along with the many barriers that seem to get in the way.
I won't leave you so long next time.....
So where else in the world was Maureen? Of course, Denver, you know has become an extension of my neighborhood but Europe beckoned. So it was a week on catamaran leading a retreat on the Ionian Sea followed by a week solo exploring Croatia. When traveling on bus along the Dalmation coast I couldn't stop thinking about this area just fifteen years ago. At the border crossing in Bosnia my thoughts went to the movie "Out of Sarajevo". When in Dubrovnik staying at a women's house in the old city I asked for her story. Though all looked so beautiful the horror of the war remained in the hearts of those who lived through the devastation. Though my travels take me to different lands with different people I am no longer as drawn to the differences but more to our similiarities.... our common human struggle for connection and understanding along with the many barriers that seem to get in the way.
I won't leave you so long next time.....
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Sunny Skies, Mountains, and My Son!
The streets are clean. I can put toilet paper in the commode. And the man driving into the intersection as I cross apologizes. Plus the sushi is pricey at lunch!
No, I am no longer in South America. This is the U.S. I am in Denver. And when traveling again I am so aware of my surroundings. I am thinking about the pluses and the minuses of being home in the north. You may be wondering "so where is her home anyway?" And as I spoke with Shaun over sushi yesterday that old saying "home is where the heart is" rang true. What that means for me is that geographically I am not restrained and will likely be taking my heart around the world and touching down in places that intrigue me for as long as my body will cooperate.
Denver is high energy and the people with weathered skin are the outdoors kind. I like it here, and as I walk along the Platte River I think that less ten days ago I was walking along the Rio de La Plata in Buenos Aires. My neighborhood is expanding and though it may take me a bit of time to get from one favorite restaurant to the next it is so possible.
No, I am no longer in South America. This is the U.S. I am in Denver. And when traveling again I am so aware of my surroundings. I am thinking about the pluses and the minuses of being home in the north. You may be wondering "so where is her home anyway?" And as I spoke with Shaun over sushi yesterday that old saying "home is where the heart is" rang true. What that means for me is that geographically I am not restrained and will likely be taking my heart around the world and touching down in places that intrigue me for as long as my body will cooperate.
Denver is high energy and the people with weathered skin are the outdoors kind. I like it here, and as I walk along the Platte River I think that less ten days ago I was walking along the Rio de La Plata in Buenos Aires. My neighborhood is expanding and though it may take me a bit of time to get from one favorite restaurant to the next it is so possible.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Welcome home, maam...she says.
Yes, I walked through customs and entered the line for U.S. citizens. And when I heard those words I actually felt happy. It was tough to say good-bye but I made the transition on the plane. Seated next to a New York plastic surgeon who was born in Argentina and home visiting family we compared notes on the sushi in Buenos Aires versus New York. Though Argentine by birth he is convinced that none of the food can compare to New York. I am thinking about my upcoming trips to Denver, Chicago, etc. and future meals I will eat in other metropolitan areas. But for tonight it will probably be pizza at Silver Beach and the oportunity to gaze at that beautiful lake that is right in my front yard.
I must add that I no longer feel naked. You may remember that I had a new passport this journey. Now my passport is adorned with a few entry and exit stamps from Argentina, plus a pair from Bolivia, and a pair from Uruguay. It was a productive shopping spree.
I must add that I no longer feel naked. You may remember that I had a new passport this journey. Now my passport is adorned with a few entry and exit stamps from Argentina, plus a pair from Bolivia, and a pair from Uruguay. It was a productive shopping spree.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
The Count Down...
Yes time is nearing to say farewell for now. I open my email to queries of availability for last good-byes.
Patricia, the Uruguayan who sells Herbalife says "you must be busy...I broke up with my boyfriend, sad but...please stay in touch."
Facundo, my spinning instructor, asks for my email address and says "why do you have to leave?"
Marcela, an Argentine, with her four year old daughter Paloma, meet me in Palermo Viejo on Friday night for wine, sushi, and the latest stories. She asks how I feel about leaving...I say sad. She says "you seem so comfortable here."
Carlos, the Argentine pilot with Areolineas Argentina from the bus, asks for time before my departure. "I leave for Mexico Monday", (the schedule of a pilot) he says, "so maybe we could have dinner this weekend." I say, "sure...Saturday night would be good."
Then Ermes, the woman from Paraguay says, "my husband is out of town for the weekend on business, do you want to go dancing on Saturday night?" I say "well maybe I could meet you at midnight after dinner with the pilot. Can I send you a text message later tonight to let you know?"
Then Gabriela, my Argentine Spanish instructor, calls to schedule time...dinner for sure on Monday night before D-day (departure day) and maybe we can fit in a movie on Sunday night.
Then Brigitte from Colorado writes with last minute questions and a come back soon message.
I am doing my best to spend time with all those who have enriched my life here. And I am doing what I usually do when the intensity of the emotion requires time and space to let the dust settle. I get the hell out of dodge. So Monday, the day before D-Day I will be on the buquebus to Colonia, Uruguay. By the fast boat it is just and hour across the river. I will be traveling with the Argentines who are also leaving town for ferriado (the holiday). Monday is the day they remember the Malvinas war, not a pleasant memory. So we may all be a bit solemn.....
Brigette
Patricia, the Uruguayan who sells Herbalife says "you must be busy...I broke up with my boyfriend, sad but...please stay in touch."
Facundo, my spinning instructor, asks for my email address and says "why do you have to leave?"
Marcela, an Argentine, with her four year old daughter Paloma, meet me in Palermo Viejo on Friday night for wine, sushi, and the latest stories. She asks how I feel about leaving...I say sad. She says "you seem so comfortable here."
Carlos, the Argentine pilot with Areolineas Argentina from the bus, asks for time before my departure. "I leave for Mexico Monday", (the schedule of a pilot) he says, "so maybe we could have dinner this weekend." I say, "sure...Saturday night would be good."
Then Ermes, the woman from Paraguay says, "my husband is out of town for the weekend on business, do you want to go dancing on Saturday night?" I say "well maybe I could meet you at midnight after dinner with the pilot. Can I send you a text message later tonight to let you know?"
Then Gabriela, my Argentine Spanish instructor, calls to schedule time...dinner for sure on Monday night before D-day (departure day) and maybe we can fit in a movie on Sunday night.
Then Brigitte from Colorado writes with last minute questions and a come back soon message.
I am doing my best to spend time with all those who have enriched my life here. And I am doing what I usually do when the intensity of the emotion requires time and space to let the dust settle. I get the hell out of dodge. So Monday, the day before D-Day I will be on the buquebus to Colonia, Uruguay. By the fast boat it is just and hour across the river. I will be traveling with the Argentines who are also leaving town for ferriado (the holiday). Monday is the day they remember the Malvinas war, not a pleasant memory. So we may all be a bit solemn.....
Brigette
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The Expat Community...
Tuesday for lunch at the Empire Thai restaurant in barrio retiro I order my stir fry veggies and fish picante (spicy). The taste is excellent. A man appears at my table and queries "sufficiente picante?" (spicy enough), "Si, perfecto". We talk a bit in castellano and then he poses the question "De donde sos?" You guessed it. He's from the states and he tells me in English he is from "New Joysee". Kevin, the owner of this wonderful restaurant, came here 16 years ago when he was working as an accountant for a bank. Yes, an accountant. His bank was bought out by another bank, he lost his job and didn't want to leave Buenos Aires. Five years ago he bought into this restaurant. It is now his and if you don't have a reservation for lunch at 1:30, forget it, you are dining elsewhere.
Then Tuesday dinner I am in barrio San Telmo at Laurie's apartment. She bought two apartments a few years ago on Chacabuco in San Telmo. She tore down walls and constructed this incredible place. The dinner party was the four of us, Laurie and Bergitte from Denver Colorado and Beauty, from Georgia. The three have their stories to tell and have varying degrees of comfort with calling this place home. One is in the process of establishing residency with the next step being dual citizenship. We laugh, talk and share stories of aventures throughout the world.
On the bus home I think about this eclectic community I am claiming as my own...
Then Tuesday dinner I am in barrio San Telmo at Laurie's apartment. She bought two apartments a few years ago on Chacabuco in San Telmo. She tore down walls and constructed this incredible place. The dinner party was the four of us, Laurie and Bergitte from Denver Colorado and Beauty, from Georgia. The three have their stories to tell and have varying degrees of comfort with calling this place home. One is in the process of establishing residency with the next step being dual citizenship. We laugh, talk and share stories of aventures throughout the world.
On the bus home I think about this eclectic community I am claiming as my own...
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Mis Gloriosos Hermanos...
Now I am over the top... watching a French Canadian movie with Spanish subtitles and understanding it! If it is available in the U.S. see it...My Glorious Brothers... It won several Canadian awards and is a beautiful movie. I told you I would squeeze in a couple more movies and why not challenge my language ability.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Selling Herbalife to Succeed or Just Survive...
I remember in the 80's people wearing buttons that read "Ask me about Herbalife." Maybe you remember, depending on your age, and it may still be big in the states. I haven't noticed. But it is growing here. And Patricia, from Uruguay, in her thirties, is a distributor and just signed her first downline she tells me. The story is a familiar one. She is the mother of two and divorved. The father barely pays support and rarely sees the children. There are no laws here that enforce support. So women are often on their own to support themselves and their children. Three years ago Patricia decided she no longer wanted to be an employee. There was no future for her. She wanted to be in business for herself. Then Herbalife came along and she hustles. She sees this as her way up and out. I am told that at 35 you are considered old in the workforce and that once retired later in life one lives in poverty. It is not a pretty picture economically.
Ermes, from Paraguay, echoes the sentiments of Patricia, though she is in a better position. She is married to whom it seems is a good guy and between the two of them they are more secure. Lars, a german man, living here for three years and in the real estate business tells me his observations are that the women work very hard and that is not what he sees of the men. Now he does admit this is a generalization but more true than not, he says. I connected him with another German looking for an apartment and he tells me if it works I get a commission...that is the way it is done here. I am not really looking for another gig but...
Ermes, from Paraguay, echoes the sentiments of Patricia, though she is in a better position. She is married to whom it seems is a good guy and between the two of them they are more secure. Lars, a german man, living here for three years and in the real estate business tells me his observations are that the women work very hard and that is not what he sees of the men. Now he does admit this is a generalization but more true than not, he says. I connected him with another German looking for an apartment and he tells me if it works I get a commission...that is the way it is done here. I am not really looking for another gig but...
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Guefilte Fish Festival
Tacha los ingredientes que no corresponden a la Receta de Guefilte Fish... It is a contest, "cross out the ingredients that are not in gefilte fish" and submit your entry to YOK judaismo tu manera...judaism your way! I am wandering the streets of Palermo after my usual Sunday morning walk and happen upon a festival. I see signs for kosher this, kosher that, and my eyes are drawn to kosher wine! Yes, there is a jewish community in Buenos Aires but I have yet to see them out in force. Then it dawns on me that Passover starts in eight days and these are preliminary festivities.
Though a relatively quiet weekend, as I prepare for my departure I have made it a point to hang out with the people and in the places that I want to hold most vivid in my mind. Palermo is one of my favorite barrios. If I were to choose another location to live instead of Recoleta it would be Palermo. It is quiet and lovely plus filled with the most avant garde restaurants. It is the up and coming area. I have my favorite cappuccino haunt there... Mama Racha....and my favorite seat outside looking at the park. Today after my cappuccino and in memory of my trip north I stopped for a light lunch at La Paila-cocina del norte argentino, in Palermo Viejo. It was humita en chala and empanada con albahaca, tomate y queso. The humita is mashed corn with cheese, red pepper and spices served in a husk. The empanada is a baked dough, in this case, filled with cheese, basil and tomatoes. I hate to think that the end of these easily accessible meals is in sight. So I choose to pull a Scarlet O'hara... I will think about it tomorrow!
And tomorrow I will tell you of coffees shared this week at different times with Ermes, Patricia, and Lars. There stories paint a picture of the struggle here for the Argentine as well as for the ex-pat. But that is for tomorrow....
Though a relatively quiet weekend, as I prepare for my departure I have made it a point to hang out with the people and in the places that I want to hold most vivid in my mind. Palermo is one of my favorite barrios. If I were to choose another location to live instead of Recoleta it would be Palermo. It is quiet and lovely plus filled with the most avant garde restaurants. It is the up and coming area. I have my favorite cappuccino haunt there... Mama Racha....and my favorite seat outside looking at the park. Today after my cappuccino and in memory of my trip north I stopped for a light lunch at La Paila-cocina del norte argentino, in Palermo Viejo. It was humita en chala and empanada con albahaca, tomate y queso. The humita is mashed corn with cheese, red pepper and spices served in a husk. The empanada is a baked dough, in this case, filled with cheese, basil and tomatoes. I hate to think that the end of these easily accessible meals is in sight. So I choose to pull a Scarlet O'hara... I will think about it tomorrow!
And tomorrow I will tell you of coffees shared this week at different times with Ermes, Patricia, and Lars. There stories paint a picture of the struggle here for the Argentine as well as for the ex-pat. But that is for tomorrow....
Friday, March 23, 2007
Writer's Block
Last night at the Cine viewing "Mas Extrano que la Ficcion", "Stranger than Fiction", I am watching Emma Thompson thinking, that's my problem...I have writer's block. I have resisted writing because the creative juices are blocked and the words are burried. But I am not struggling with how to kill Harrold Crick. I am struggling with how to put words to my good-byes. And I am thinking I will NOT say good-bye to this cinema just yet. I have time. I can squeeze in one or two more films for sure.
At Fundacion Leer on Wednesday I announce when I arrive that it would be my last day of volunteer work in Buenos Aires for now. I say in Buenos Aires because I have already committed to do translation work over the internet while in the States. And I say for now because I know I will return. After my three hours of work Vicki hands me a large envelope "Para Maureen De Fundacion Leer" with a smiley face. Inside are many hand written messages..."Fue un Placer tenerte aca, espero verte pronto de vuelta. Gracias". "Muchas gracias por haber compartado tu estadia en Buenos Aires con Fundacion. Muchas Gracias y Suerte." "Muchisimas gracias por colobrar con nosotros! Y mucha suerte en su regreso. Esperamos una nueva visita! Carinos." "Besos"... And there are many more. Must I truly leave this office that for just a few hours of my time in Buenos Aires has been a place for me to give back to a country that has given me so much. I should be writing them the thank you!
I felt the same as I left the Academia Buenos Aires this week. This institute has been one of my sources of learning this trip. Remember the beautiful building with Francisco, the man who appreciated my accent? I said another good-bye, again for now...Hasta luego...until later. One of my instuctors requested that I consider seeing her as a client/patient when I return. I have always considered my business to be regional and at times people would laugh at me when I called my business Healthcare Consultants International. But I have seen myself as a world citizen for a long time, so why not!
If I continue with the stories of my good-byes I will be weepy. So for now I say good-bye to you with the same promise... Hasta luego. Besos.....
At Fundacion Leer on Wednesday I announce when I arrive that it would be my last day of volunteer work in Buenos Aires for now. I say in Buenos Aires because I have already committed to do translation work over the internet while in the States. And I say for now because I know I will return. After my three hours of work Vicki hands me a large envelope "Para Maureen De Fundacion Leer" with a smiley face. Inside are many hand written messages..."Fue un Placer tenerte aca, espero verte pronto de vuelta. Gracias". "Muchas gracias por haber compartado tu estadia en Buenos Aires con Fundacion. Muchas Gracias y Suerte." "Muchisimas gracias por colobrar con nosotros! Y mucha suerte en su regreso. Esperamos una nueva visita! Carinos." "Besos"... And there are many more. Must I truly leave this office that for just a few hours of my time in Buenos Aires has been a place for me to give back to a country that has given me so much. I should be writing them the thank you!
I felt the same as I left the Academia Buenos Aires this week. This institute has been one of my sources of learning this trip. Remember the beautiful building with Francisco, the man who appreciated my accent? I said another good-bye, again for now...Hasta luego...until later. One of my instuctors requested that I consider seeing her as a client/patient when I return. I have always considered my business to be regional and at times people would laugh at me when I called my business Healthcare Consultants International. But I have seen myself as a world citizen for a long time, so why not!
If I continue with the stories of my good-byes I will be weepy. So for now I say good-bye to you with the same promise... Hasta luego. Besos.....
Monday, March 19, 2007
Saying Good-bye Slowly...
It is a process you know, these good-byes. It shouldn't be hurried, but savored. And with every good-bye there is varying degrees of pain, for of course, with good-byes there is loss. I am beginning that process here in Buenos Aires and protecting the days, hours, minutes remaining. I think about the places I want to revisit before I leave. The new places on my list of desires I still want to see. The people with whom I want to spend my time. And when I walk the streets I replay the words, "falta poco tiempo", there is little time left. Today I see Marcelo, the man with the hands, and wonder, will this be the last time? And Facundo, my spinning instructor, is going on vacation. There are many more whose faces run through my mind and I am quite sure their impact on me has been far greater than mine on them. I am the one leaving this beloved Buenos Aires, they are here to stay. But this is a process and I have time yet to savor the moments.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Back to La Terapeuta, Psicologa, Analista
I am sitting on the colectivo (bus) last night enroute to an art exhibit in Belgrano. I met a woman about a month ago from Belgium now living here. Her opening last night was at Braque Galeria de Arte on Cabildo and Monroe (pronounce Moan-Row-Ay). I am not familiar with Belgrano and turn to the man sitting next to me to ask.... "How far to Moan-Row-Ay? He looks at me and says "Speaka English...." And the conversation begins....
He is a pilot for Aerolineas Argentina and has been flying for them for some thirty years...flies to the States and all over the world. He loves Buenos Aires but prefers Paris... is married, has four children, the first by his first wife, and the other three by his current wife. One of his daughters who is 23 teaches skiing in Utah during our winter, their summer, and is studying Economics in Buenos Aires. The middle daughter is into design and will be in New York shortly for a fair. The son(by the first wife) is into music. I don't know what the daughter does. Oh, he says, "and what do you do?"
Then we are really off and running...."My psychotherapist is in Barcelona. You know I thought I would have to stop flying this year. I will turn 60. But there is a new law that I can work until 65. I had to take a Cognitive test. You know there are many things to consider as you get older. Would you like to celebrate St. Pat's Day with my wife and I? I can show you the results of my test....." I love it here. Everyone's craziness is just out there in full view with an open invitation for examination. So I may be drinking green beer tommorow and discussing Cognitive function while mine is diminishing with the beer!!!
He is a pilot for Aerolineas Argentina and has been flying for them for some thirty years...flies to the States and all over the world. He loves Buenos Aires but prefers Paris... is married, has four children, the first by his first wife, and the other three by his current wife. One of his daughters who is 23 teaches skiing in Utah during our winter, their summer, and is studying Economics in Buenos Aires. The middle daughter is into design and will be in New York shortly for a fair. The son(by the first wife) is into music. I don't know what the daughter does. Oh, he says, "and what do you do?"
Then we are really off and running...."My psychotherapist is in Barcelona. You know I thought I would have to stop flying this year. I will turn 60. But there is a new law that I can work until 65. I had to take a Cognitive test. You know there are many things to consider as you get older. Would you like to celebrate St. Pat's Day with my wife and I? I can show you the results of my test....." I love it here. Everyone's craziness is just out there in full view with an open invitation for examination. So I may be drinking green beer tommorow and discussing Cognitive function while mine is diminishing with the beer!!!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
The Best and the Beast of Bolivia...
The best of Bolivia is that it is undeveloped...and that too is the beast. Many roads are impassable in the rainy season. But this country also claims ownership to the World's Most Dangerous Road according to the Inter-American Development Bank. This is the road between LaPaz and Coroico. Though I did not travel this road I was very curious and did some investigation while in Bolivia.
One travel guide states..."This road is a gravel track of 3.2m width, the width for one vehicle, 1000m drops, hulking rock overhangs and waterfalls that spill across the road and erode the highway. On leaving La Paz to cross La Cumbre dogs stand like sentinels awaiting handouts. Camion drivers feed them in the hope that the achachilas (ancestors spirits who dwell in the high peaks) will look after them on their way down. At the pass, drivers also perform a challa for the opus (ambient mountain spirits), sprinkling the vehicles with alcohol before beginning the descent."
A new road was recently built thanks to a $120million loan from the International Development Bank but the old road is still in use. This is the best and the beast of Bolivia. Even when development takes place it is slow to grab hold.
One travel guide states..."This road is a gravel track of 3.2m width, the width for one vehicle, 1000m drops, hulking rock overhangs and waterfalls that spill across the road and erode the highway. On leaving La Paz to cross La Cumbre dogs stand like sentinels awaiting handouts. Camion drivers feed them in the hope that the achachilas (ancestors spirits who dwell in the high peaks) will look after them on their way down. At the pass, drivers also perform a challa for the opus (ambient mountain spirits), sprinkling the vehicles with alcohol before beginning the descent."
A new road was recently built thanks to a $120million loan from the International Development Bank but the old road is still in use. This is the best and the beast of Bolivia. Even when development takes place it is slow to grab hold.
Monday, March 12, 2007
The Salar and Heading South...
Before the view of the Salar passes let me capture it in writing...Driving 10 kilometers through water on a bed of salt I see nothing but piles of salt periodically amidst the open spaces of an expansive salt lake. There are several jeeps headed to the salt hotel and on my right I see a bolivian bus pass carrying commuters headed to the next town. I kid you not, crossing the great salt lake. It was a sight to behold. And the salt hotel was another adventure.... everything made of salt...the building, chairs, tables...everything...all salt. Now mind you it was rustic but you could truly spend the night. Though I didn't spend the night I ate lunch at the salt table. I will return to Uyuni..it has a special energy.
But when I return I will be prepared with patience and time. The road south was out. The only way back was the train. And a landslide delayed the train 8 hours. Of course the border crossing was also an exercise in patience...three hours, standing, wondering, what could they possibly be doing with our passports (which they took 2 hours previously). Hoards of people just standing, waiting. A Bolivian man tells me they expedite the Europeans and North Americans that is why they took our passports. I can't imagine the wait for everyone else. Now Bolivia gets the bad rap, but that was a piece of cake next to Argentine Immigrations. Then of course there were the check points along the way south where the Argentine police stop the bus in the late night hours, wake us, lead us off the bus and search our bags. They are looking for drugs from Bolivia... but do they have to wake me twice? What is the problem the second guys don't think the first one's did their job? So next time I head north I will remember what it is like to head south and prepare to wait.
The final stop before returning to Buenos Aires...Jujuy, Argentina
But when I return I will be prepared with patience and time. The road south was out. The only way back was the train. And a landslide delayed the train 8 hours. Of course the border crossing was also an exercise in patience...three hours, standing, wondering, what could they possibly be doing with our passports (which they took 2 hours previously). Hoards of people just standing, waiting. A Bolivian man tells me they expedite the Europeans and North Americans that is why they took our passports. I can't imagine the wait for everyone else. Now Bolivia gets the bad rap, but that was a piece of cake next to Argentine Immigrations. Then of course there were the check points along the way south where the Argentine police stop the bus in the late night hours, wake us, lead us off the bus and search our bags. They are looking for drugs from Bolivia... but do they have to wake me twice? What is the problem the second guys don't think the first one's did their job? So next time I head north I will remember what it is like to head south and prepare to wait.
The final stop before returning to Buenos Aires...Jujuy, Argentina
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Uyuni, Bolivia
When wandering off the train from Villazon at 1:00AM with a handful of backpackers in search of a place to sleep, a small bolivian woman appears in traditional garb offering clean rooms and bath. I say fine... un bano privado y habitacion simple no para compartir... basically I want my own room and bathroom. I mean for $5 US I think I can splurge. It is brisk but not nearly what I expected. The 8 hour train ride here was breathtaking. We traveled the Altiplano and through areas that were much more lush than I expected. The train itself was an experience, filled with bolivians, argentines, and a myriad of backpackers from throughout the world. I saw the sights, dined and drank wine with a man from Malta, then slept a couple of hours covered in a bolivian manta.
From one of the available guide books in the restaurant this morning I read "Bolivias bottom left corner is the most remote highland. With few roads, unpredictable weather, few scattered settlements, and unreliable transport, travel here is an exercise in patience and creativity. But the rewards for the adventurous travel is first-hand experience of other worldly landscapes. Mention Uyuni to a Bolivian and the response is likely to be harto frio-extreme cold. Nevertheless, Uyunis isolated position and outlook elicit an affectionate respect from both Bolivians and foreign travelers. The Bolivians have nicknamed it La Hija Predilecta de Bolivia...Bolivia's favorite daughter. "
I am hanging here for the day. When walking this morning I happened upon an interesting restaurant with granola and espresso. I know it doesnt sound like the roughing it thing. It was my choice after a long day and night. I am carrying on a conversation with the man behind the counter in castellano knowing full well he is not bolivian nor argentine. So I ask him where he is from... he says Boston... I say Chicago... he says No Way! While studying at Amherst he met his wife from Uyuni and has been in Bolivia for the past ten years. So tonight I am staying at the family's hotel which is wonderful by Bolivian standards. To give you a comparison I am paying $20 US for the night and think I am in the lap of luxury.
Tomorrow I will head to the Salar de Uyuni, the highest and largest salt lake in the world at an altitude of 3,650m, about 10,000feet and covering roughly 12,000sqkm making it twice as big as the Great Salt Lake in the U.S. So tomorrow it it Uyuni north to Colchani.
I am thinking more of Bolivia is on my list for next year or maybe I will just keep traveling now...just kidding, sort of....
From one of the available guide books in the restaurant this morning I read "Bolivias bottom left corner is the most remote highland. With few roads, unpredictable weather, few scattered settlements, and unreliable transport, travel here is an exercise in patience and creativity. But the rewards for the adventurous travel is first-hand experience of other worldly landscapes. Mention Uyuni to a Bolivian and the response is likely to be harto frio-extreme cold. Nevertheless, Uyunis isolated position and outlook elicit an affectionate respect from both Bolivians and foreign travelers. The Bolivians have nicknamed it La Hija Predilecta de Bolivia...Bolivia's favorite daughter. "
I am hanging here for the day. When walking this morning I happened upon an interesting restaurant with granola and espresso. I know it doesnt sound like the roughing it thing. It was my choice after a long day and night. I am carrying on a conversation with the man behind the counter in castellano knowing full well he is not bolivian nor argentine. So I ask him where he is from... he says Boston... I say Chicago... he says No Way! While studying at Amherst he met his wife from Uyuni and has been in Bolivia for the past ten years. So tonight I am staying at the family's hotel which is wonderful by Bolivian standards. To give you a comparison I am paying $20 US for the night and think I am in the lap of luxury.
Tomorrow I will head to the Salar de Uyuni, the highest and largest salt lake in the world at an altitude of 3,650m, about 10,000feet and covering roughly 12,000sqkm making it twice as big as the Great Salt Lake in the U.S. So tomorrow it it Uyuni north to Colchani.
I am thinking more of Bolivia is on my list for next year or maybe I will just keep traveling now...just kidding, sort of....
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Humahuaca...
I arrived on bus after dark last night. The taxi to the Hostal Azul cost less than a dollar U.S. A small quaint hostel with 8 private rooms. "What time is breakfast", I ask. "Cuando quierra, senora." Whenever you want, maam. Late, I am sure. After settling into my room I head back to town, a fifteen minute walk, in search of dinner. I hear music and follow it to the Cabildo Restaurant. There are 5 people seated, eating and listening to two musicians play music of the Andean highlands. Between numbers one musician introduces me to those already seated.. a couple from Humahuaca, two men from Salta...and you he says...me parece Italia... I think Italy. No, I confess...los estados unidos, Chicago. I always still claim the city of my birth as home. Shortly after my arrival two more men arrive and are introduced... one from Buenos Aires and the other from Malaga, Spain. The music was fabulous and the dinner wonderful. As I walk back to my hostel I thought, I am going to like it here.
This morning after breakfast I walked out the door of my hostel and for the first time took in the magnificent view... la cordillera de los Andes...is always breathtaking no matter what country one views its magnificence. As I make my way to town I pass the many indigenous peoples in traditional garb about the business of the day. They are at times walking in tandem with those dressed in the typical western garb that we know. This small pueblo with cobblestone streets and adobe buildings is enchanting. Once again ... me encata!
I don´t know when I will be able to make another post. I leave tomorrow morning for the border and if I am lucky will be on the train to Uyuni in Bolivia tomorrow afternoon. Hasta luego...
This morning after breakfast I walked out the door of my hostel and for the first time took in the magnificent view... la cordillera de los Andes...is always breathtaking no matter what country one views its magnificence. As I make my way to town I pass the many indigenous peoples in traditional garb about the business of the day. They are at times walking in tandem with those dressed in the typical western garb that we know. This small pueblo with cobblestone streets and adobe buildings is enchanting. Once again ... me encata!
I don´t know when I will be able to make another post. I leave tomorrow morning for the border and if I am lucky will be on the train to Uyuni in Bolivia tomorrow afternoon. Hasta luego...
Monday, March 5, 2007
Los Gauchos...
So at 6:00AM I arrive at my pension thinking "what was I thinking...I have to take a bus in a few hours! How do those gauchos do it. They have to be up with the cattle, don´t they?" I thought it was just the tango dancers that could move those hips with such ease. Some of those gauchos are stiff competition. And yes, I was dancing until the very weeeee hours of the morning with them. Last night was an immersion in the folklorico experience... and I mean immersion. Now I am sucking on coco leaves in prepartion for the trip to Humahuaca... I hope to prevent altitude sickness as I climb to 9000 feet!
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Salta...
De donde eres? Eres de Francia? Where are you from? Are you from France? I am rarely guessed as American... usually it is European, often French. What a relief! Given the current political situation I am thankful to not have to spend much time apoligizing for my country of origin. When traveling the world it is striking the view of our govenment. As an aside, I met a woman at the ExPats gathering who bought a place in SanTelmo (a barrio of Buenos Aires) immediately after the election of 2000. She has lived in Argentina since that time. But back to Salta.
This is a beautiful city, located in a valley at the foothills of the Andes. People do look different. One can see the indegenous influence. I have spoken to several people from Bolivia already. The trip is shaping up. What also struck me is that I am not speaking the porteno castellano. In Buenos Aires the words would be...De donde sos? The minute I heard "eres" I knew I was north. My pension is gorgeous...a small museum. The teleferico to the cerro in the park provided a breathtaking view. And after walking the streets of Salta, visiting the artesan market, and the contemporary museum of art, it was time for a rest. Sipping vino tinto from the Cafayate area I ordered a salad with soya... a form of tofu. It looked strange when it arrived. I querried the waiter about the tofu. Oh, they were out of tofu so they substituted a chuncky looking ham. Smiling my most engaging smile I requested a change, like maybe a nicoise salad with tuna. I am very happy to be here.
This is a beautiful city, located in a valley at the foothills of the Andes. People do look different. One can see the indegenous influence. I have spoken to several people from Bolivia already. The trip is shaping up. What also struck me is that I am not speaking the porteno castellano. In Buenos Aires the words would be...De donde sos? The minute I heard "eres" I knew I was north. My pension is gorgeous...a small museum. The teleferico to the cerro in the park provided a breathtaking view. And after walking the streets of Salta, visiting the artesan market, and the contemporary museum of art, it was time for a rest. Sipping vino tinto from the Cafayate area I ordered a salad with soya... a form of tofu. It looked strange when it arrived. I querried the waiter about the tofu. Oh, they were out of tofu so they substituted a chuncky looking ham. Smiling my most engaging smile I requested a change, like maybe a nicoise salad with tuna. I am very happy to be here.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Disculpame...mucho tiempo...
Translated.... I am sorry it has been so long! Preparations for leaving town the week prior are no different no mater what part of the world one resides. Though only thinking I'll be on the road for a week the "did I remember this or did I remember that" list remains. Sometimes these week journeys are even more complicated since I travel very light and in this case have to plan for varying temperatures. But I booked my flight...depart tomorrow around 6:00PM for Salta and this morning reserved a room for the first two nights. My thinking is then I will begin the bus trip north but have no set timetable in mind nor reservations made. I am just doing as I said in my pevious email...."Heading North..." I must add my body is also ready for the long commute in bus. Marcelo, the man with the hands, has worked on my hamstrings. He may become a habit that is hard to break. And I could create several episodes of that telenovela dedcated just to him.
ExPats dinner tonight.... We'll see what new comes my way here. I will keep you posted.
ExPats dinner tonight.... We'll see what new comes my way here. I will keep you posted.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Live From the Red Carpet...
The expat community came through... 10 minutes ago the phone rang...turn to channel 49 was the message. I was just in time to hear Forrest Whitaker. Now Eddie Murphy is on...followed by Kate Winslet. Oh, there is Meryl Streep in the background... I love her! And now Queen Latif who is presenting with John Travolta. I am so looking forward to hearing Ellen as host for the evening. On TNT (the dubbed spanish version) the carpet walk was in Spanish but at that point it was making sense since the interviewees were Jenifer Lopez, Penelope Cruz, etc. And when sipping Malbec anything (or just about anything) makes sense. I have to say though that I am wondering about this Litle Miss Sunshine for best picture!?!
This is the culmination of a great day of culture. Walking this morning in Parque 3 de Febrero, the home of the yoga and salsa classes, I heard the Buenos Aires Symphony. That was a treat! Then this afternoon it was a visit to Museo de Bellas Artes... The exhibit on the first floor was fabulous...Chagall, Miro, Kandinsky, Rivera, Rodin, Monet, Cezanne, Renoir....Must I really leave?
Did they really just say two hours to showtime... that must be a mistake. It is 10:00PM here. Hope you are enjoying the red carpet walk and chatter about the gorgeous gowns with me!!!
This is the culmination of a great day of culture. Walking this morning in Parque 3 de Febrero, the home of the yoga and salsa classes, I heard the Buenos Aires Symphony. That was a treat! Then this afternoon it was a visit to Museo de Bellas Artes... The exhibit on the first floor was fabulous...Chagall, Miro, Kandinsky, Rivera, Rodin, Monet, Cezanne, Renoir....Must I really leave?
Did they really just say two hours to showtime... that must be a mistake. It is 10:00PM here. Hope you are enjoying the red carpet walk and chatter about the gorgeous gowns with me!!!
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Los Oscars..
The message signal was blinking..."Hi this is Stan. Gabriel asked me to check on the Oscars for you. He said you wanted to watch them in English. I saw a promo on Corrientes that said they would be aired on TNT. I don't know if that is in English. I posted a message on Craigs List to see if someone knows more. There has to be an Expats bar around that is showing them. Call me."
So you wonder, if she watched the Super Bowl in Spanish why can't she watch the Oscars in Spanish. I mean WHAT is with her, she is so into this immersion thing. Well let me tell you, it is a totally different experience. Been there, done that!
Last year I made a big deal out of it....had some people at my place...served Malbec. (Yes, I can get TNT on my cable.) We were ready. The read carpet appears and seconds into the dialog in English it is dubbed. That's right...no subtitles...The Oscars were dubbed in Spanish. This was impossible...neither the English nor the Spanish were clear. Even the Argentine in the group had trouble. Can you imagine Jon Stewart speaking Spanish?
Ok, Craigs List...show me what you got. My mission this weekend ... a location to view Los Oscars in English.
So you wonder, if she watched the Super Bowl in Spanish why can't she watch the Oscars in Spanish. I mean WHAT is with her, she is so into this immersion thing. Well let me tell you, it is a totally different experience. Been there, done that!
Last year I made a big deal out of it....had some people at my place...served Malbec. (Yes, I can get TNT on my cable.) We were ready. The read carpet appears and seconds into the dialog in English it is dubbed. That's right...no subtitles...The Oscars were dubbed in Spanish. This was impossible...neither the English nor the Spanish were clear. Even the Argentine in the group had trouble. Can you imagine Jon Stewart speaking Spanish?
Ok, Craigs List...show me what you got. My mission this weekend ... a location to view Los Oscars in English.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
El Consulado de Bolivia en La Republica Argentina...
"Yes, you can travel to Potosi. When you reach La Quiaca in Argentina just walk across the border to Villazon. Catch a bus there."
"Ok," I say. "And how much time in transit from Villazon to Potosi?"
"Oh, about twelve hours. But sometimes the busses are late. Or sometimes they break down. And in the rainy season, which is now, sometimes the roads are impassable. Most are not paved. But it is a twelve hour trip according to the schedule. "
"Yes", I say. "And I will be traveling from Salta, in the north, to the border. I believe that trip is five hours."
"The Argentine roads are paved. You should have no trouble."
And then I ask..."So once I arrive. Can I fly home (back to Buenos Aires)?"
El Consulado says..."Sure, You can fly from Santa Cruz."
"Oh", I say. "And how far is Santa Cruz from Potosi?"
He says, "That is about 12 hours. But sometimes the busses are late. Or sometimes they break down. Or sometimes during the rainy season the roads are impassable. Most are not paved. But it is a twelve hour trip according to the schedule."
I ask..."There is no closer airport?"
"You may be able to fly from Sucre which is just two or three hours from Potosi...depending on the busses and the roads. You will have to check the internet."
So back at the ranch I check. Yes, one can fly from Sucre to Buenos Aires. The route is Sucre to Cochabamba, Cochabamba to LaPaz, La Paz to Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz to Buenos Aires. Approximately 22 hours after boarding the plane in Sucre one lands at Ezeiza airport Buenos Aires. Of course, that is the trip according to the schedule. But sometimes the planes are late or they break down. Or sometimes during the rainy season....
This is the saga of potential travels to Bolivia.
"Ok," I say. "And how much time in transit from Villazon to Potosi?"
"Oh, about twelve hours. But sometimes the busses are late. Or sometimes they break down. And in the rainy season, which is now, sometimes the roads are impassable. Most are not paved. But it is a twelve hour trip according to the schedule. "
"Yes", I say. "And I will be traveling from Salta, in the north, to the border. I believe that trip is five hours."
"The Argentine roads are paved. You should have no trouble."
And then I ask..."So once I arrive. Can I fly home (back to Buenos Aires)?"
El Consulado says..."Sure, You can fly from Santa Cruz."
"Oh", I say. "And how far is Santa Cruz from Potosi?"
He says, "That is about 12 hours. But sometimes the busses are late. Or sometimes they break down. Or sometimes during the rainy season the roads are impassable. Most are not paved. But it is a twelve hour trip according to the schedule."
I ask..."There is no closer airport?"
"You may be able to fly from Sucre which is just two or three hours from Potosi...depending on the busses and the roads. You will have to check the internet."
So back at the ranch I check. Yes, one can fly from Sucre to Buenos Aires. The route is Sucre to Cochabamba, Cochabamba to LaPaz, La Paz to Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz to Buenos Aires. Approximately 22 hours after boarding the plane in Sucre one lands at Ezeiza airport Buenos Aires. Of course, that is the trip according to the schedule. But sometimes the planes are late or they break down. Or sometimes during the rainy season....
This is the saga of potential travels to Bolivia.
Monday, February 19, 2007
La Telenovela...
It was my body that spoke loudest of his absence. Could I wait any longer for his touch? I ached and longed for that familiar strength. It won't be the same but I must seek comfort elsewhere....
I know, it sounds like I have changed careers and am now writing script for telenovelas (soap opras) in Buenos Aires or that I have truly surrendered to the sensuality of this land. The truth be known, the ache is in my hamstrings, and the reality is the hands I miss are those of my massage therapist, (you know who you are). So tomorrow night I will be in the hands of another. At least I showed some restraint. I waited for the master to return from vacation. His expertise is deep tissue...Bio-Energetico...the promo reads "Aplica principios derivados de la kinesiologia con el proposito de reestablecer un balance a nivel corporal, mental, energetico y espiritual." Bottom line is I hope to float home tomorrow night after an hour in his presence.
I know, it sounds like I have changed careers and am now writing script for telenovelas (soap opras) in Buenos Aires or that I have truly surrendered to the sensuality of this land. The truth be known, the ache is in my hamstrings, and the reality is the hands I miss are those of my massage therapist, (you know who you are). So tomorrow night I will be in the hands of another. At least I showed some restraint. I waited for the master to return from vacation. His expertise is deep tissue...Bio-Energetico...the promo reads "Aplica principios derivados de la kinesiologia con el proposito de reestablecer un balance a nivel corporal, mental, energetico y espiritual." Bottom line is I hope to float home tomorrow night after an hour in his presence.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Paseaperros, Piropos, Pregnancy...
What do these have in common you may ask? Aside from the fact that they all begin with a P, though I did have to be bilingual to make that happen, the connection is largely in my mind. This is just a bit of my free-associating as I walked the streets alone this morning and took in the view. I am often amazed by number of dogs but even more amazing is the paseaperro (professional dog walker). It is not uncommon to see him, and for the most part they are male, leading 10-12 dogs on their daily walk. They are all sizes. The big ones are tripping over the little ones. But they are all on the same mission; exercise & relief. They all have a similiar destination; open space. It is truly a sight to see, especially when several paseaperros pass each other on the crowded streets.
Walking behind a paseaperro leading many exceptionally large dogs I am contemplating the best way to pass when I hear a piropo from a man standing to my right. A piropo is an appreciative comment by a man ranging from poetic to vulgar. The benefit of the language challenge for me is that I am not always sure what has been said which makes it all the easier to ignore. Then I make the leap in my mind to pregnancy, perhaps because that is where I am thinking that some piropos lead. But probably it is more because one of those beautiful pregnant women has just crossed my path. Clearly in the last term of her pregnancy she wears a tight fitting top, flowing skirt, and midriff exposed. They really know how to strutt their stuff!!
Walking behind a paseaperro leading many exceptionally large dogs I am contemplating the best way to pass when I hear a piropo from a man standing to my right. A piropo is an appreciative comment by a man ranging from poetic to vulgar. The benefit of the language challenge for me is that I am not always sure what has been said which makes it all the easier to ignore. Then I make the leap in my mind to pregnancy, perhaps because that is where I am thinking that some piropos lead. But probably it is more because one of those beautiful pregnant women has just crossed my path. Clearly in the last term of her pregnancy she wears a tight fitting top, flowing skirt, and midriff exposed. They really know how to strutt their stuff!!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Uno, Dos, Tres...Cinco, Seis, Siete....
What? What happened to cuatro???? Oh cuatro is when you turn. Now I get it! Seven northamerican sweethearts learning salsa in the southern hemisphere. What beter way to celebrate the eve of el dia de los enamorados, Valentines Day. The very large dance floor at Azucar, the hottest place to salsa in Buenos Aires, was packed. And we were in the thick of it. Did I tell you I am leading a retreat here this year? Yes, I believe I did. Six women with me discovering the energy of this city. So we often move in a pack and create quite a stir as we go. Last night was no exception!
I remembered going to this club once a couple years ago but didn't get into it then. I was still carrying this fantasy of mastering tango. This year is different. There are some new moves I am going to have to pick up while here. I think I will forget about tango for awhile and head to Azucar regulary. For five pesos a class I may be able to loosen these hips for real. That's the plan...Yoga by day...Salsa by night!
I remembered going to this club once a couple years ago but didn't get into it then. I was still carrying this fantasy of mastering tango. This year is different. There are some new moves I am going to have to pick up while here. I think I will forget about tango for awhile and head to Azucar regulary. For five pesos a class I may be able to loosen these hips for real. That's the plan...Yoga by day...Salsa by night!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Six degrees of separation...
They wrote..."travel tales are best when the human psyche interfaces with the immensity of the world's physicality." What poetic words to read in reponse to the blog entry on Iguazu. The authors, Tim and Dixie, traveled in memory to their own breathtaking view of Foz do Iguacu. What? Did they say March 4, of 05? Could it be? I must go back to my travel log. It is possible that we were standing together in awe at the same hour. Yes, it was March of 05 that I traveled across the border into Brazil to experience these incredible falls. Once more I am made aware of our proximity to one another. Tim and Dixie, activists in the Benton Harbor arts community, neighbors, friends, share my passion for wandering in the world. And it is quite possible that we were wandering together thousands of miles from our home at the same point in time...six degrees of separation.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Espectaculo...
Translated that is spectacle and the word for a theater performance. How apropos for the spectacle last night...La Tanguera... the musical-dance story of Argentine immigrants at the warfs and in the barrios of Buenos Aires. They told of their hopes arriving in a new land from countries throughout Europe. The sensuality was at a peak when they told of their struggle through the tango. I am thinking.... Are their legs truly attached to their bodies? Is there anything that I have seen so beautiful and captivating? Could I ever move my body with such agility? One of the most famed dancers, in her 70s has legs to die for and led the group at the encore with the words... "Let's go boys... kids!" I thought, "yes, that is exactly the model I hold for aging and my vision for my 70s!"
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Hey... Follow Me...
Friday, February 9, 2007
Me encanto...
I am enchanted. Don't those words just make you swoon. When the Argentine is pleased, I mean really pleased, those are the words they use to express that pleasure. I am back to the issue of psychotherapy from the Argentine versus Northamerican perspective. The day after the first of the group arrived I took a break to prepare for the beginning of the retreat and the energy necessary to facilitate a group of 6 women. A gift to myself was the manicure at la peluqueria down the street. As I described the retreat she smiled and sang the words "me encanto". Then launched into her own story about a recent operation, her fear, her pending appointment with an analyst, her thought that many physical illnesses have their genesis in the mind and that she believed currently her pains stemmed from her thoughts. I couldn't help but contrast her delight in going to the therapist from my earlier commentary about the northamerican perspective and some of the fears that were already emerging from those here for the retreat.
There is something about the deep self revelation that the Argentine craves. Enroute to the airport yesterday to meet the last of the group arrivals I had a conversation with the driver, currently separated, struggling, close to tears, and curious also about the retreat. "Estoy seguro que sus patientes la quieren." I am sure your patients love you. "Esta buena gente, puedo verlo en su cara." You are a good person, I can see it in your face. Truly, he wasn't flirting. I know the difference. He was just enchanted with the connection. Me encantao...I am enchanted.
There is something about the deep self revelation that the Argentine craves. Enroute to the airport yesterday to meet the last of the group arrivals I had a conversation with the driver, currently separated, struggling, close to tears, and curious also about the retreat. "Estoy seguro que sus patientes la quieren." I am sure your patients love you. "Esta buena gente, puedo verlo en su cara." You are a good person, I can see it in your face. Truly, he wasn't flirting. I know the difference. He was just enchanted with the connection. Me encantao...I am enchanted.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
The Tour Guide...Facilitator...Go For
Yes, the Remiss service arrived promptly though they never did answer the phone. However time was spent in needless northamerican worry. Standing at International Arrivals while watching those coming from Rome, Madrid, Sao Paolo, London, Miami, Atlanta make their way out of customs to the waiting crowd, the kisses, hugs, screams, tears all brought tears to my eyes. I was swept into those moments of reconnecting between loved ones. And there was some difference in the way people entered the scene that had a bit of a cultural hint to it. I am sure you know what I am about to say but those coming from Rome, Madrid, Sao Paolo or the latins from Miami were more demonstrative.
Standing, waiting, I am thinking..."oh, I should have brought a sign with their names...I could have schmaltzed it up a bit... pictures... yes, pictures of the arrival." Alas, what each received was just me with a big kiss, hug, and warm welcome. And since the arrivals yesterday were all in from Michigan or Chicago, WARM welcome was the most important. I reassured myself that was enough.
Though the actual retreat experience doesn't begin until Thursday when I am truly on, I was aware of wanting to assist in anyway possible on day one to ease entry. This may have been more for me than them. I found myself feeling proud of this land, wanting to share my delight, wanting to see the excitement in their eyes seeing for the first time what have become familiar sights to me. Though questions were asked that I could not answer there were many queries to which I could respond comfortably.
As tour guide I thought about Maslow's hierarchy and went about the business of meeting those needs. Shelter ... I escorted each to her apartment. Food (and wine...did Maslow forget wine in his hierarchy???)...this meant a trip to Puerto Madero's La Parolaccia for lunch. Clothing...It was a walk down Florida, past the Galerias Pacifica...to point out the best places to shop. And back to Food again... I couldn't imagine not stocking up on staples (which includes wine) at the local grocery store. Throughout the day I was, as la terapeuta, thinking about belonging, community, self esteem and how I could begin to foster those with the group. The self actualization part was for another day. I was tired and opted to stay home last night to conserve energy! It was time for those interested to venture out and experience Buenos Aires nightlife on their own.
Standing, waiting, I am thinking..."oh, I should have brought a sign with their names...I could have schmaltzed it up a bit... pictures... yes, pictures of the arrival." Alas, what each received was just me with a big kiss, hug, and warm welcome. And since the arrivals yesterday were all in from Michigan or Chicago, WARM welcome was the most important. I reassured myself that was enough.
Though the actual retreat experience doesn't begin until Thursday when I am truly on, I was aware of wanting to assist in anyway possible on day one to ease entry. This may have been more for me than them. I found myself feeling proud of this land, wanting to share my delight, wanting to see the excitement in their eyes seeing for the first time what have become familiar sights to me. Though questions were asked that I could not answer there were many queries to which I could respond comfortably.
As tour guide I thought about Maslow's hierarchy and went about the business of meeting those needs. Shelter ... I escorted each to her apartment. Food (and wine...did Maslow forget wine in his hierarchy???)...this meant a trip to Puerto Madero's La Parolaccia for lunch. Clothing...It was a walk down Florida, past the Galerias Pacifica...to point out the best places to shop. And back to Food again... I couldn't imagine not stocking up on staples (which includes wine) at the local grocery store. Throughout the day I was, as la terapeuta, thinking about belonging, community, self esteem and how I could begin to foster those with the group. The self actualization part was for another day. I was tired and opted to stay home last night to conserve energy! It was time for those interested to venture out and experience Buenos Aires nightlife on their own.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Final preparations... a northamerican's perspective
Last night I am checking into the additional apartment for the group's arrival. It is late and the last minute details a bit more complicated when you do not know the system. Is it necessary to change the locks? I mean this is a short term rental apartment, like weekly. Do they do this every time? I wonder. I contracted with a remiss service for transportation to and from the airport. Again a bit complicated because I will need two cars arriving an hour apart. They give me a card with their number that says 24 hour service, smile, and say call anytime. I just called to confirm and noone answered. Gabriela would smile at me and say "This is Argentina, mi querida (my dear)! You Americans..."
Monday, February 5, 2007
El beso de la mujer arana...
The kiss of the spider woman.... I never knew the author, Manuel Puig, was Argentine and born in Buenos Aires. He died in Cuernavaca, Mexico in 1990. He is considered one of Argentina's most important contemporary authors. And "The Kiss of Spider Woman", published in 1976, is considered one of his best novels. The director, Hector Babenco, brought this work to life on the screen. This book is the focus of my studies now. Reading in Spanish, I am continually told by mi profesora, is the best way to advance at this stage. Frankly, I would rather watch Raul Julia "weave" the tale.
The Super Bowl in Spanish!!!
What is wrong with this picture... the Super Bowl in Spanish, surrounded by none of my usual suspects, and the Bears lose?! Tell me, what gives?
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Los Infiltrados
Last night I saw "The Departed", entitled "Los Infiltrados" in Argentina. They change the titles of the movies here and cut to the chase. Doesn't that make more sense...Los Infiltrados... The Infiltrators. Of course it does. Makes me wonder what The Departed means. Last year I saw "Secretos en las Montanas". You got it "Brokeback Mountain". See what I mean!
Friday, February 2, 2007
Life's Contradictions...
There is an international sign that indicates it is safe to cross the street, right? The light turns green, then the man in the little box next to the light become illuminated in white or green and his legs are in motion as if he is moving at a normal pace. Well that fits here as long as there is not the possibility of traffic turning into the intersection. Truly the picture of that man should be running and dodging cars enroute to the saftey of the opposite curb. There seems to be no spanish translation for "yield to pedestrians"! On the other hand as I walk the streets, safe from the intersection, I observe those waiting for the bus. They queue up in very orderly lines, generally a foot between each person, waiting patiently for the arrival of the bus. Then they enter the bus slowly. Sometimes those queues can be a block long. There is no pushing, no hurry. What transformation takes place when the Argentine is behind the wheel? Life is full of contradictions.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Vida Natural
Spent part of the morning at Vida Natural, Centro de Yoga y Arte. The class was Iyengar. "Floja sus hombros." Oh! That's what you meant. "Relax your shoulders." I just didn't understand the Spanish command. It is not like my shoulders are tight or anything like that. Yea, right, Maureen . I can hear you say. That was the morning after a lunch at Bio in Palermo. The appetizer...Berenjenjas grilladas a la crema de tofu y albahaca (grilled eggplant with tofu and basil cream), was followed by the entre...Tofu a la naranja y salvia con ensalada tibia de vegatales de estacion a la salsa de semillas de sesamo y timbal de arroz (orange tofu and salvia with tepid salad of seasonal vegetables topped with sesame seed sauce and rice kettledrum.) And you thought I was hanging with the gauchos consuming carne!!!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
La Terapeuta,El Psicologo, La Analista
"Yes, that is what my analyst says too." "Do you think so? I will have to talk to my analyst about this. You have a point." Everyone sees a therapist, psychologist, analyst here. Old, young, rich, poor you have an analyst. It is normal. They are the wisdom keepers...the holders of all the secrets. It is incomprehensible that you wouldn't talk to your analyst about a concern. Not to say that there is never resistance. In a previous visit I did meet a man resitant about the idea of a consultation with an analyst but he now freely quotes his analyst. At home I withhold the information about my profession until the timing seems right. Often when I reveal this piece of information the recipient will back away, make a joke "you won't analyze me will you?", and exhibit a certain discomfort with the knowledge that I spend my days understanding others, or more precisely helping them understand themselves. Here, when I say what I do I receive a BIG smile, am immediately accepted, and hear a myriad of questions or comments pertinent to life's puzzles. I must admit I could be seduced by the admiration . Cultural differences are amazing, aren't they?
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
La lavanderia
At home I run down the stairs, throw the clothes in the machine, wait about 45 minutes, then run down again to move it along to the dryer. Simple? Yes. If you are renting an apartment in Buenos Aires the procedure is a bit different. I still run down the stairs, but 3 flights not one. I walk out the door, hang a left, and walk two doors down to the lavanderia. There is a set price for a bundle so the challenge is to dirty all the clothes of color at the same time and the whites at another. Imagine the logistics of this challenge. So, for instance, enroute to the gym, class or a cappuccino I drop off a bundle. Later that afternoon I pick it up folded in a bag. Para lavar (to wash), I wait a day. Para lava seca (dry clean), it is two days. Y solamente para planchar (just to iron) it depends. I haven't figured out on what yet. I am always interested in different systems and have learned that many Argentines, even living in a home versus apartment, don' t have dryers. So going to the lavanderia has its advantage if you love your blue jeans and live in a humid climate. If you know what I mean.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Facundo...Big Beautiful Biker Legs and Bigger Besos
I'm telling you, Maria. You have to add this to the spinning class. I told you last year but you wouldn't listen. Your legs aren't as big but they are beautiful and I'm sure we would all love a big kiss! Facundo, one of my spinning instructors was leading class this morning. He makes the rounds kissing us all before we begin. They kiss everyone. Men kiss women. Men kiss men. Women kiss men. Women kiss women. They kiss hello. They kiss good-bye. They kiss just to kiss. So get with the program, Maria. Maybe after the three oommmmmm's in yoga we could all kiss. That is it for now. My spanish instructor will be here soon and I have to get ready to pucker up!
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Adelante....Atras
I was intending to take a break from the blog this weekend. However, that changed about 45minutes into my walk when I entered Parque 3 de Febrero a short way past Jardin Japones. To my left were about 20 bodies in child's pose. Yes, yoga in the park. I stopped for a few minutes to observe but did not participate. Though more women than men the odds were closer...12 women, 8 men. About an hour later on my return before I reached the same spot I heard music, then heard the chant adelante-atras. As I came closer I saw many more bodies this time in upright position and the odds had shifted...more men than women. I stopped, observed for a moment, and with no hesitation participated. This time it was Salsa and no quesiton I was in!
Friday, January 26, 2007
To text or not to text...
When in the states I seldom text message. In fact, I find it a bit irritating. But in Argentina there is a transformation that takes place. I am delighted when one of those text message envelopes appears on the screen. Messages like.... Lunch at La Esquina de Las Flores, 12:30? Walk Puerto M in the AM? Ok, for the 1st, drinks! Or like last night.... Cine: Jude Law, Juliette Binoche, Robin Wright Penn... (Ok, so I didn't rest. I will this weekend.) Back to the concept of texting, now a verb. I am sure it is a generation thing. My son's cohort have a text message vocabulary that makes an actual conversation obsolete. I can almost see his eye roll now as he listens to one of my voice mail messages. Implicit in the eye roll is the thought, "ok, get to the point." I must admit that the get to the point approach has merit but it leaves no room to expound. Some of you know me as quiet at times, or perhaps reflective. But others know that I have the side of me that can expound and take a very circuitous route to get to the point. Hence, to text or not to text... that is the question.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
A P.S for today's entry....A chip off the old block...
When Shaun was young we would schlepp (Yiddish for carry, drag, etc.) him to the far off corners of the earth on boat, bike or beat-up bus. When we would return he swore he would live in Jimtown, Indiana (our home) when he grew up. I would laugh and say "I'll call you from Paupau, New Guinea, if I can find a phone, and ask about the cows. Or better yet, I will meet you in London for Lunch." He would make a face. Today he is in Guadalajara, Mexico learning about tequila. His company chose him to represent them at the tequilerias in Jalisco. So for those of you who resist the impact of your family of origin, let it go. The apple doesn't roll far from the tree!
Small World
I am dining at La Parolaccia last night with Gabriela, my spanish professor/dear friend, and Allen, in from Seattle/friend from prior year... I say... "HGTV ran a special on the housing market in Buenos Aires. I missed it but received a couple of calls from friends with the info. I did the research to locate the real estate guru and sent him an email." Barely into the story, Gabriela looks at me and asks "Was it Michael?" "NO way!" I say. "You know him?" And we are onto the connections of how, and who, and what, and where. One of those "remember Monica that I told you about, well she was in New York and couldn't do the leg work, so... and then remember Mark, the pilot with Delta, well I set him up with Michael and he... Yes, small world!!! Of course, I had the same thought when I was meeting up with Gabriela and Allen. Allen is here for a week waiting for his significant other and then they are off to Patagonia. Last year she couldn't make it so he did the trip alone and when in BA studied with Gabriela. The three of us hung together... a movie here, dinner out or at my place, and now we are together again. ..reconnecting as if we lived down the street from each other. I love it!
Another item on the small world theme... Mi profesora at the school yesterday was Marcela, a woman around my age (for those of you who don't know I tend to lump everyone who is within a 20 year age span, older or younger, and fairly young at heart as around my age). She was great. She is ABD in literature and teaches at the University of Buenos Aires but needs extra work. Of course that is a long story and involves a man plus a child. But I'll get to the point since this is just a blog entry and not my dissertation. I couldn't believe four hours had passed when we were at the end of the session. Just put women together anywhere in the world and the conversations are endless with so much in common, not just about men either.
I do have to get on about the business of the day... It is spinning class at 9:00 before I am off to language class. Last night I did not return to my apartment until midnight so I will take it easier tonight. One last item that excites me... Before I left home I submitted my first article ever to a magazine called Transitions Abroad. I have been prepared for rejection. I can handle it. This morning when I logged onto my business account there was a message from the editorial staff. I made the first cut. DO YOU BELIEVE IT? DO I SOUND EXCITED OR WHAT? It is a start even if I don't make the print. Besos....
Another item on the small world theme... Mi profesora at the school yesterday was Marcela, a woman around my age (for those of you who don't know I tend to lump everyone who is within a 20 year age span, older or younger, and fairly young at heart as around my age). She was great. She is ABD in literature and teaches at the University of Buenos Aires but needs extra work. Of course that is a long story and involves a man plus a child. But I'll get to the point since this is just a blog entry and not my dissertation. I couldn't believe four hours had passed when we were at the end of the session. Just put women together anywhere in the world and the conversations are endless with so much in common, not just about men either.
I do have to get on about the business of the day... It is spinning class at 9:00 before I am off to language class. Last night I did not return to my apartment until midnight so I will take it easier tonight. One last item that excites me... Before I left home I submitted my first article ever to a magazine called Transitions Abroad. I have been prepared for rejection. I can handle it. This morning when I logged onto my business account there was a message from the editorial staff. I made the first cut. DO YOU BELIEVE IT? DO I SOUND EXCITED OR WHAT? It is a start even if I don't make the print. Besos....
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda...
Woulda, coulda, shoulda, wishes or beliefs...If it is uncertainty I am dealing with here it is not about being a therapist but more about dealing with the subjunctive! Yes, the plus is that I have advanced in my mastery of the language. The minus is that I am immersed in the dreaded subjunctive. But I can handle it, especially if I spend the evening dining outside at 9:00PM, sipping Argentine wine, and listening to music. I kid you not! It is the energy of this city that is so seductive. The phone has begun to ring and my dinner plans are shaping up. Within just 48 hours I am challenged to balance my desire for a mix of solitiude with the pull toward socializing. What is a girl to do?
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The first day at school...
Funny how you can just walk into a place or meet someone and if you are paying attention you know in an instant if it is right. I am reminded of Malcom Gladwell's book Blink and his central thesis of how much we know in a matter of seconds...that is if we pay attention and don't misread the clues. I like this place...an exquisite old building near the Plaza de Mayo. Mi profesor, Bruno, is young, engaging and energetic. Franciso, not my profesor but another instructor commented that he liked my accent...muy linda. I wondered immediately..."is this true, or is it just the Argentine barone in him flirting?" I decided to opt for the former interpretation and assume I am improving! Before class today it is a trip to the gym to secure my short term membership and work out. After class will be my first tango lesson...
Oh and of course I drank a Malbec last night and thought of you!
Oh and of course I drank a Malbec last night and thought of you!
Monday, January 22, 2007
What a World!
Estoy aqui! I logged on and my blog commands are now in Spanish. Cybespace knows I am here. In my building I was welcomed with Argentine kisses. I am at my home away from home. More later...
Sunday, January 21, 2007
D-Day....Departure Day....
In the final throes of preparation to leave and in the background I am half listening to the Infinite Mind on NPR. I am reminded that for the next two months plus that background will be in Spanish. I am also aware that though it has been a beautiful winter week in Michigan my hands have been cold and I have worn far more clothes than desired. Soon that will change too. Temperatures are hovering in the low 90's where I am headed. I wonder ....Who will I see when I arrive at my apartment ? Will it be as I have remembered? Will my luggage arrive? But I also don't want to get ahead of myself so I focus on leaving and think of those of you who celebrated this departure with me.... the phone calls, emails and gatherings... all sending the message that I'll be missed. In these ways you travel with me. Thanks for being part of the adventure.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
