Where in the World is Maureen?

From Banana Leaves to Bags...Women Weavers in Anegundi

2009-03-19T07:43:00.001-05:00

More Memories....

2009-03-17T20:48:00.002-05:00

Memories....

2009-03-12T05:49:00.006-05:00

TheStory of India as told by the Temples and Palaces...

2009-03-08T22:38:00.020-05:00

The history of the country is visible in the architecture of the temples and palaces. As one travels south the expansion of Hindu empires as well as introduction of Islam and Christianity. Hinduism is practices by about 82% of the population in India. About 10% of South India's population is Muslim and 2.3% of the population is Christian with 75% living in South India. In Hampi in the state of Karanata the three main temples were constructed in the 15th and 16th centuries. Virupaksha temple is the oldest with the main gopuram built in 1442. The main shrine is dedicated to a form of Shiva. The Vittala temple boasts incredible sculptural work with outer musical pillars that reverberate when tapped. Also constructed during the Vijayagar empire was the Achutaraya Temple. Visible in the palace at Hampi is the movement toward Hindu Islamic style. For Hindus a temple is a map of the universe. At the center is an unadorned space, the garbhagriha (inner shrine) which provides the residence for the deity to whom the temple is dedicated. Above the shrine rises the structure known as the vinana in South India which is stepped with a solid dome. The gorporam is a soaring pyramidal gateway, visible in Hampi temples and typical of Dravidian style. The invasion of the Muslims brought the introduction of arched cloisters and domes. The most striking difference between Hinduism and Islam is religious imagery. Idolatry or portrayal of god is not seen in Islamic art.

In Mysore the Maharaja's palace is a spectacular example of IndoSaracenic architecture which his a merging of Hindu,Muslim, and Christian. This ornate palace is a combination of mirrors, gaudy colors, stained glass, wooden doors and mosaic floors. Inside the palace grounds is the Hindu temple, Sri Shweta Varanaswamy. The palace complex reflects the history of Mysore. The dynasty was founded in 1399. Until the mid-16th century its rulers, the Wodeyars, were in the service of the Vijayangar emperor. The Mysore rulers declared independence with the fall of Vijayangar in 1565. In the late 18th century Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan usurped the throne and ruled for a brief period of time. The Wodeyars continued to rule until independence in 1947. Then in 1956 the new state was formed. The first palace burnt down in 1897 and was rebuild in 1912. Another example of Hindu architecture in Mysore is the Chamundeswari temple located on Chamundi Hill. It is dominated by a towering seven-storey 40m high gopuram. Pilgrims climb 1000 plus steps to the top. Needless to say I did not make the pilgrimage this trip.

En route to Bangalore from Mysore in Srirangapatam is home to the twin tower mosque, Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple and Daria Daulat Bagh,all built by Tipu Sultan during the 18th century. Daria Daulat Bagh served as Tipu Sultan's summer home and not an inch of the interior was left unadorned. Though Muslim he led with the intent of inclusion and is portrayed as a leader who promoted social justice. The architecture of this incredible edifice demonstrates the influence of several religions and varied styles.

Madurai was an experience in and of itself but the Sri Meenakshi Templemade this city especially memorable. It is one of India's oldest cities and has been a pilgrimage site for centuries. It is wild, congested and colorful. The streets are full with locals walking, those visiting the temple for pilgrimage, bicycles, cars, autorickshaws and bullock carts. All were fairly politely making their way as horns blared. Madurai's landmark temple is as riotous as the streets. It is a baroque example of Dravidian architecture with multi colored images of gods, goddesses, animals and mythical figures. It was designed in 1560 and built during the reign of Tirumalai Nayak. Every twelve years the city of Madurai paints and refurbishes the complex. Most of the gorpurams were covered for the scheduled painting because it is believed that the temple should not be exposed for view during painting. This actually added to the commotion in the temple. It is estimated that 10,000 visitors may come to Sri Meenakshi in any one day. Hindus arrived in large groups, small families, or individuals. Women wore saris or churidars and men wore longhis or typical western wear. Some of the children had their heads shaved signifying acceptance of Hinduism... a rite of passage. All were barefoot. Many pilgrims carried baskets of fruit and jasmine flowers to offer the gods. Breaking the coconut upon entering the temple is a ritual to determine one's fortune to come. Very few non-Hindus were present but those of us who were noticeable were welcomed. It was not uncommon to be asked to pose for a photo shoot since a white woman was a bit of an oddity.

The last temple on this trip at Tiruchirappeli was an outstanding culmination of temple touring. Sri Ranganathaswamy templededicated to Vishnu covers 60 hectares. Temple inscriptions date its existence from the 10th century. The complex with its seven concentric walled sections and 21 gorpurams is possibly the largest in India. When stateside the pictures posted will tell the story the words can't.

The trip is nearing an end. The last stop, Puducherry, was temple touring free but not because there were none to see. It was time to take in other sites: the Bay of Bengal, wide streets with French names, i.e. Rue du...., the promenade, the Ashram of Sri Auribondo, and Auroville which was the brainchild of the Mother. Of course it was also time to eat. This city's lure was fresh fish and French-Indian fusion cuisine. More later....

More Reflections from Puducherry on International Women's Day!

2009-03-07T22:49:00.011-05:00

Recently on the flight from Bangalore to Chennai the movement of men was most notable. It was truly a business flight. Security has a que for Gents" and a que for "Ladies". Since they "wand" everyone this is most efficient. (Security has been intensified since the bombings in Mumbai. Our car was often checked when entering a hotel.) So the Security line moved quickly for me since I was one of the few women. But true testimony to the nature of this flight was the que at the men's room at baggage claim in Chennai. It was the first time in my life that I saw no line for the "ladies" room and a long line of men having to wait their turn. Sometimes there is justice in the world!

But of even greater significance to me on board Jet Airways was the March copy of Jet Wings. The lead article was "Celebrating Womanhood". In commemoration to International Women's Day the author interviewed several prominent women about the status of women in India and personal struggles. Shabana Azmi, Actor/Activist/Member of Parliament states "India lives in several centuries simultaneously and captures all the contradictions of a multi-cultural , multi-religious, multi-class society. So it is with the position of women." Dr. Mallika Sarabhai, Danseuse/ Thespian/ Writer states, "In some senses gender inequalities are coming down. In others, however, just as the gap between the rich and the poor is increasingly widening thanks to globalisation, the one between women in general is also increasing. Today we have a mixed bag of advantages and disadvantages. Many parts of the world are becoming more patriarchal and violent in the name of religion, and more and more women are being brutalised. If you are in an educated and progressive family today, the choices are sky-high. If not, you bear the double burden of being a working woman from a family which expects you to do all the traditionally prescribed jobs. That can be crippling and totally non-liberating."

Mahatma Gandhi stated, "If by strength is meant moral power, then woman is immeasurably man's superior...If non-violence is the law of our being, the future is with women..."

South Indian women have traditionally had a greater degree of freedom than their northern sisters. Kerala has been famous for its matrilineal kinship and matriarchy was a long standing tradition in Tamil Nadu. Dowry deaths and female infanticide were virtually unknown in South India until recently. In all of India according to reports, every six hours a married woman is beaten or burnt to death or emotionally harassed to the point of suicide. In October of 2006, the Indian Parliament, due to an active campaign for women's civil rights, passed a bill that gives women who are suffering domestic violence increased protection. However, again this is advantage of class. In low income families, girls can be regarded as a liability. But even for the middle class urban woman if she fails to fit in with the in-laws or produce a grandson the consequences can be dire, including bride burning. It may take the form of dousing fuel or scalding with boiling water that causes disfigurement or death. It is claimed that for every reported case of bride burning around 250 go unreported, and that less than 10% of the reported cases are pursued through the legal system.

The message is that though there have been gains made we have a long way to go. And acknowledging women on IWD remains of extreme importance.

Learning the Language: Are You Kidding???? Reflections in Puducherry...

2009-03-07T22:24:00.004-05:00

"Arun, did you speak to him in Hindi?" I ask our driver in Madurai. "No", he says "They speak Tamil here." "And when we were in Mysore did you speak Hindi or Tamil there?" I ask again. "No", Arun says "I spoke Kannada there. In Karnataka we speak Kannada." "So when I was in Hyderabad before I met you were they speaking Hindi there?" "No" Arun states. "Hyderabad is in Andra Pradesh and there they speak Telegu." I am thinking so what if the folks in Illinois spoke Illegu and the folks in Michigan spoke Magoo. How would we communicate are my thoughts. So I say... "But Arun, how do you speak to each other?" "Kannada is similar to Tamil" he says. "Actually all three languages are Dravidian." "Dravidian?" I ask.

So here's the scoop...there is no one Indian language as such. The constitution recognises 18 different languages including English. The non-English languages fall into 2 groups, Indic and Dravidian. There are also over 1600 minor languages and dialects. Efforts have been made to promote Hindi as the official language of India and to gradually phase out English. Hindi is the predominant language of the north but it bears no relation to the Dravidian languages of the south; so very few people in the south speak Hindi. Resistance to change has been strongest in Tamil Nadu.

"I ask directions," Arun says "because I can't read the street signs." "You can't read?" I ask. "I can read" he says "but I can't read Tamil." (Tamil has it's own alphabetic script.) "The street signs are all in Tamil and none offer an English translation."

Yes, English is widely spoken but as the trip has progressed there have been many more instances when I have not been able to make myself understood. This morning while walking someone attempted to speak to me in French. Puducherry in Tamil Nadu was formerly a French colony so here they speak Tamil and French with some English. It is comforting to know that even Arun struggles at times. As if communication wasn't difficult enough even when speaking the same language!

From Mysore to Bangalore...sounds catchy!

2009-03-04T06:36:00.011-05:00

I left you eating and given the delicacies of the recent two nights in Bangalore it seems the place to start. The odds were again in my favor as we deliberated restaurant choices in Bangalore. Four "pure" vegetarians and one carnivore considered the options and the carnivore in need of a "chicken fix" won. But the restaurant of choice was so good we opted to repeat the experience the second night. This place was a vibrant North Indian delight. Punjabi music with a beat played in the background and the energy was palpable. The crowd was young at our table and throughout the restaurant. The starters included a spicy, grilled panneer with a fabulous mint chutney sauce. The garlic and butter naan were to die for. Plus a myriad of entrees including aloo (potato), dhal (curried lentil dish), gobi (cauliflower), mattar (peas), and many other sabzi (vegetables) .... everything spicy, everything vegetarian! What more could one want... I will tell you what! Indian ice cream on a bed of chopped carrots that have been treated with sugar and curdled milk or beetle leaves stuffed with a sweet and wrapped in silver butter paper that looks like aluminum foil but melts in your mouth. Incredible! Lest you think that all I am doing is eating I will tell of the sights of Mysore and Bangalore.

One highlight from Mysore that still falls in the category of food fetishes are the Mysore Masala Dosas. I was on a mission and had the driver searching at lunchtime for a Dosa though typically served for breakfast or a snack. Success at last... we found a very "strictly Indian"place that served up 3 mouth watering Masala Dosas famous in Mysore with chutney for a total of 60 rupees or $1.20. Oh my...am I going to gain weight this trip or what!

Though there are temples and palaces that deserve a blog entry and will receive their due in a future summary of the temple/palace section it is the experience of the markets that continue to linger in my memory. The colors, smells and sounds were captivating!! Fresh vegetables, fruits, flowers and incense were everywhere. Meat of any kind was noticeably absent since so many markets I have seen throughout the world boasted slabs of beef hanging in the heat. Also noticeably absent were tourists. Either it is the off season or these markets truly draw only Indians. The people were excited by our presence and welcomed pictures with no request for baksheesh (tip,donation). Truly the wish was just to be photographed and see themselves on the screen. By the time I walked out of the market in Bangalore I had flowers in my hair and around my neck, a mark of red dye on my forehead, and my picture with a myriad of Bangaloreans! Wearing my Salwar Kameez, my skin color was the only dead give-away of my non-local status. Babagi in Mysore made it a point of leading us to his many "brothers" stalls, one of whom made Jasmine incense. The smell was intoxicating and the process was interesting to watch. But nothing quite amazed me as much as watching the men carrying huge baskets of bananas to market....balanced on their heads they moved rapidly through the crowd to empty their load and return to the trucks for another...oh to have that balance!

You will have to create the image of these scenes until I can download some shots for your review. Now in Madurai I am off to another market, a temple and a palace before my next curry!

Eat, Pray, Love or Eating and Drinking my way through India...

2009-03-01T04:10:00.014-05:00

Now I know Elizabeth Gilbert ate through Italy, prayed through India and loved through Bali. I am however eating my way through India! And as always culture is key. At home swirling the wine, smelling the bouquet, tasting the tannins, fruits, spices and varied flavors to the wines is a ritual very familiar to me. I nod approval. Here the nod of approval means I have touched the bottle and am satisfied that the liter of water I have just ordered is cold! Though I have not tried this I suppose if it was not to my liking I could send it back and repeat the ritual. Wind is secondary here. Though the development of wine is on the rise one is excited to find a South African Pinotage on the menu. I have been drinking more beer this last week than in the last several years! But the food is another story...

I am already aware that shortly I will be experiencing serious withdrawal from these sumptuous meals when I return to the West. As a vegetarian I am in heaven in South India. Tami Nadu (where I am headed) and Karnataka (where I am at present) are predominantly vegetarian. This is very exciting for me. For once I am in the majority. I spend so much of my life being in the minority that is as if I am home. Menu sections here clearly delineate non-vegetarian items as if those folks are the strange ones!

So it is Dosas for breakfast. Thali for lunch. Samosas brought by Sami for the train ride or a snack and a myriad of wonderful curries for dinner. But let's start with the Dosa, a large crepe like mixture of fermented rice flour and dhal (lentil dish) cooked on a griddle then stuffed with spiced potatoes, onions and curry leaves. This also works well mid-day for a snack. Also I am told that idlis, vada (deep-fired doughnuts made of lentils, or uttapans (thick rice flour pancakes with chopped onions, green chilies, coriander and coconut) are wonderful and make a good breakfast.

The Thali is the lunchtime meal of choice. In the south a typical Thali is served on a flat steel plate covered with a banana leaf topped with a mound of rice. Around the rice are servings of dhal, sambar (soupy lentils), mixed veggies, chutneys, pickles and dahi (curd/yoghurt). Eating Thali requires skill. Using the fingers of your right hand start by mixing the various side dishes with the rice, kneading and scraping it into mouth-sized balls, then scoop it into your mouth using your thumb to push the food in the mouth. It is considered bad form to stick your right hand into your mouth or lick your fingers so finger bowls of water are provided.

More on the samosa saga and dinner delights will be provided in a future entry. I am hungry just telling of this eating adventure and am off to breakfast before heading to Bangalore.

Memories of Hampi, Lakshmi

2009-02-27T10:25:00.015-05:00

Hampi is a World Heritage site. The ruins of the 15th century city of Vijayanagar are located near the village. The area is surrounded by giant granite boulders, lush rice paddies and banana plantations. According to Hindu legends of Ramayana this area was Kishkinda, the realm of the monkey gods. In 1336 the Telugu princes of Harihara and Bukka founded the city of Vijayanagar which grew into one of the largest Hindu empires in India history. In the 16th century the metropolitan area covered 650 sq.km. and had a population of 500,000. The busy bazaars were centers of international commerce.

The focal point of the Hampi Bazaar is the Virupaksha temple with beginning construction dating back to 1442. The highlight here was meeting Lakshmi. For a small donation Lakshmi will bless you. And this blessing is a photo op for sure! Since my photographer was slow to shoot the first time around I paid to be blessed twice. For those of you who know me well you are probably thinking that was a good idea and well worth the money. The trick is to place your contribution in Lakshmi's trunk. Once she has passed the loot to her attendant she is free to place her massive trunk on your head. Lakshmi, the elephant, and I bonded since her trunk and my head met twice!

The more magnificent of the Hampi ruins is the Vittala Temple built during the 16th century and the reign of Krishnadevaraya. Though it was never completed nor consecrated it marks the pinnacle of the Vijayanagar art. En route to this temple it is also possible to see the Achyutaraya Temple and the now deserted Sule Bazaar. My favorite area though was the Royal Center. Located in that area is where Lakshmi may have made her home had she lived during that time. The elephant stables were in the compound of of the Royal Center as well as Lotus Mahal, an amazing synthesis of Hindu and Islamic styles. Vijayanagar under Hindu reign saw its demise during the 16th century with the arrival of the Islamic sultanates. The structure reveals the merging of the two cultures.

Not far from Hampi is the lovely little village of Anegudi, older structures than those of Hampi. Here the Kishkinda Trust runs programs and builds businnes opportunities that benefit both the local community and help preserve the village's heritage. One project we visited created in 1997 was the cottage industry of crafts using locally produced cloth, bana fibers and river grasses. It now employs 500 women and the beautiful crafts are sold all over India. Watching the women work at this factory was a treat.

As I write this in Mysore Hampi is already 10 hours away by car. Yesterdays journey was long but interesting. Many small towns and long stretches of open space were a surprise after the mor densely populated cities. The roads were good. The sites were interesting. And thankfully the challenge of finding a bathroom and restaurant though not easy was not daunting. I suppose I should dedicate an entry to the art of using an Asian toilet. Maybe another day. Now it is off to breakfast....perhaps a masala dosa! More on this later as well.

On the road...

2009-02-26T09:41:00.007-05:00

"You did not know you had air-conditioning?" he asks as he checks the power in the room. You see power outages are regular occurances across the river from Hampi and there is no electricity from midnight til 6:00AM. But never fear the Mowgli Guest House is equipted with a generator. Now sheets for the bed or toilet paper they may miss on check-in but rest assured there is air-conditioning and high speed internet. The contradictions in India are comical for the westerner but all is well when on the road and staying in the moment. Plus the ambience of the room at the Guest House makes up for any minor snafus. The balcony overlooks a rice paddy and palm trees. With a western view it is possible to watch the sunset while listening to the cacophony of frogs and what I swear are crickets in the background. It is a haven from the road.

The road.... though I had hoped to get to the historical importance of the temples in Hampi and the Indo-Islamic influence, that will have to wait til tomorrow or the next day. But the road must come to life in this entry. Though I have experienced many hair-raising rides throughout the world it is fair to say that India tops the list of places I would never want to drive. Somehow our driver seems to navigate between tuk-tuks, bicycles, goats, women walking with cans or baskets on their heads, lines of trucks transporting iron ore, and children relieving themselves on the side of the road. Within inches of others sharing the small road we make our way south through India and tour the areas we are stopping. When I speak to you next I promise a bit of history that will lend some understanding to this vibrant land.

The call to prayer and train travel to the countryside.....

2009-02-23T19:24:00.010-05:00

Yesterday morning I awoke to the call to prayer in the distance. Hyderabad is a mix of Muslim, Hindu, Buddist and Christian; more diverse than most areas of India, I am told. This makes for interesting sites in the streets and an assortment of local garb. The women manage to look beautiful to me even if fully covered. The Muslim women though in black may be trimmed in colorful jewels and wearing high-heeled shoes that still draw attention. The Hindu women covered in colorful saris may have Henna feet the color of the dress. And shopping for a sari makes one understand the enchantment of this garb. The colors, designs, and textures of fabric are alluring. Though no purchase yet you may see me at the next event in full regalia. The remaining wear Salwar Kameez, long shirts, loose pants and some even in jeans. Most men in the city are dressed more in western wear but a few don longhis.

The languages in the background also add to the diversity. The people of Hyderabad speak Telegu, Urdu, Hindi and English and seem to choose one or the other depending on religion and the situation. Each state has its own language. At this early stage of my travels in India it is still a mystery to me how much there is commonality in communication. When trying to find the exit to Golconda Fort Monday English did not serve me well. Hindi seemed to be the language of choice for several that were queried before a young man responded to my confused look and question. As we travel south and into the country side the languages will change, Hindi will still be more a common denominator but one still travels with ease so far relying only on English.

This leg of the journey includes overnight train travel to Hospet and a drive to Hampi. The story of Hampi will follow in future entries but arrival to this lush rice growing area was promising. As not unexpected the train was almost two hours late departing from Hyderabad. Though due to leave at 9:15PM we did not pulll out of the station until 11:00PM. Many would say "that's India", but quite frankly it is not a big surprise to be that delayed from St. Joe to Chicago on the Amtrak. I suppose one might then say "that's Amtrak." The train has a culture of its own with varied means of travel from first class sleeper car to coach accomodations with no air. We traveled second class, air conditioned, sleeper coach and made our bunk beds as soon as sheets were distributed. Quite frankly I slept like a baby from 12:00 midnight until 6:00AM and if there was noise in the background my family knows I am not a stranger to snoring. Years of this stemming to family of origin just means I see the night time noises of others as white noise. That is probably the case when others are speaking another language as well. I have no clue what I am missing! Once awake in the morning the men pulled out there thermoses of chai and the serious discussion began. It would be fun to see the train come to life but the stop for Hospet was soon.

Sites and sounds of Hampi await tomorrow.....

And the Oscar goes to "Slumdog Millionaire"

2009-02-22T23:10:00.007-05:00

It is 10:30AM Monday in Hyderabad and the Academy is honoring India with a multitude of Awards. If it weren't for the commercials in Hindi and the time zone I might have to pinch myself to realize that I am in India. After a long flight to Delhi, an eight hour layover at the Radisson near the airport, Sami greeted us Sunday morning in Hyderabad. Traveling via air to India is a joy for a vegetarian. The vegetarian option for entrees on board is standard fare. And from Delhi to Hyderabad the attendant asks if I prefer vegetarian from the North or South of India. Are you kidding me? The last time I flew from Chicago to Denver they didn't even have peanuts!

It is hard to know where to start and capture what I have registered so far. The smiles and warmth of the people for sure is at the top of my list. The varied dress that I see...turbans, saris, salwar kameez, full black cover or blue jeans. Certainly the sun and warmth of the air is so welcome. Most exciting has been seeing Angie again and being reminded of our first meeting aboard the freighter heading to Patagonia in Chile. Angie and her partner, Ash are here in India for at least a year working in the IT industry. After seven months here they have settled in and we benefit from their knowledge of this wonderful land. Our first day was the spiritual and sensual experience of the Spa followed by hours of eating some of the best of what Hyderabad has to offer at a lush buffet spread in the ISTA hotel. And lastly I will relish the bed awaiting in Angie and Ash's place. After hours on the road one appreciates those simple things in life!

Namaste...

2009-02-20T07:21:00.009-05:00

Perhaps you can tell by the title where I am headed. You got it....India! The visit will be to the south so in addition to securing visa and inoculations, borrowing a couple of Salwar Kameez, I have begun popping malaria pills. It is a bit surreal this morning. Since I left you last March I have been on a different kind of adventure...settling in Chicago. Life has come full circle. I am back in my city of birth reconnecting with friends and old stomping grounds. Though work still takes me back to St. Joseph weekly more of my time is spent in Chicago also working and living the life of the "urbanite" I am at heart. The surreal part is that I am looking at the lake and Outer Drive from the window of my 20th floor condo. Smoke streams from the chimneys of condos that surround me. It looks cold and the forecast is for 6-8 inches of snow. With this as the backdrop I am packing only carry on luggage with very light weight clothing because I am heading to temperatures in the high 90's!

This is one of those stories of what happens on the road with that community of wanderers. In 2004 when traveling south in Chile aboard a freighter heading into Patagonia I met Angie and others from around the world. The varied travelers were heading either to Torres del Paine or Ushuaia. We slept dormitory style, ate cafeteria style and spoke to one another in many different languages. After four days on a freighter one makes friends. Angie became a friend. She was from Great Britain and was/is an avid traveler. In 2006 when I was in Buenos Aires we dined together before and after her trip to Antarctica. Then we remained in each others database and periodic updates on life's travels. Last fall her email came from Hyderabad where she and her partner would be based for a year working in information technology. "Come visit" she said. Need I day more! Then when David, my techy partner, signed up for the trip we were India bound. The past month has been a whirlwind of preparing. Soon I will be on the road with 3 technology whizzes. "Me"... heading to the heart of technology with those in the know...."who would have thought!" Life has a way of taking you places!

So picture #1 ... Angie writes...."Sami will pick you up at the airport!".

I neglected to mention what I will really miss!!!!

2008-03-10T19:47:00.001-05:00

2008-03-10T19:43:00.001-05:00

2008-03-10T19:28:00.000-05:00

LAS ULTIMAS HORAS....MI QUERIDA BUENOS AIRES, I will miss you!.

2008-03-10T09:58:00.001-05:00

2008-03-10T09:54:00.000-05:00

Walking the streets...

2008-03-10T09:44:00.000-05:00

My school....

2008-03-10T09:36:00.000-05:00

Marcela...my teacher

2008-03-10T09:31:00.001-05:00

The entry to my apartment...

2008-03-10T08:56:00.001-05:00

Down to the wire with Delta!

2008-03-05T16:03:00.002-05:00

"Yes, you are on the priority wait list for the 8th, 9th, and 11th but it doesn't look good. The flights are oversold." "Could I fly out of Bogota if I go there?" "Well no, because that would require less miles and you cannot switch categories of miles with a frequent flyer ticket." "Is there another city that is in the same category, like Rio, Sao Paolo, or Santiago?" "Yes, but there are no seats available out of any of those cities in business class." "Could I fly economy?" "No, you can't move into another class seat even though it would require less miles." "So how do I get home?" "You could always buy a ticket." This is the great puzzle as I say good-bye. I probably won't get a seat with my frequent flyer ticket but I can buy a ticket for a flight that is "sobre vendido" (over sold). Go figure! So I am doing the dance with Delta and going with the flow confident that somehow I will be in the states by the 12th. Last night I received a text message from Stan (now a friend who lives here and moved last year from Chicago). He was in the red carpet room sipping vodka and letting me know his flight scheduled for 10:30PM wasn't due to depart until 5:00AM the next morning. Hope he took it easy on the vodka! So the travel travails begin....More later.

Now what is it about Spinning that you like?

2008-03-02T18:36:00.001-05:00

Colonia, Uruguay

2008-03-02T18:04:00.004-05:00

These are just a few shots of this quiet colonial

city across the river from mi querida Buenos Aires! Many Argentines head this way for the day for R&R!

What Can I Say!

2008-03-02T07:02:00.000-05:00

The Week in Review....

2008-03-02T05:46:00.003-05:00

I am convinced the ability to connect is directly proportional to the ability to say good-bye. So what do I mean by that and why now do I process this human condition? The retreat has ended. All have returned to the states and I am reviewing the richness of the experience. Intimacy is scary and depending on another takes courage. In a foreign land with a group the intensity of this phenomenon is exacerbated. This group was smooth and the connections were fluid. So much of what I see in relationships is the dance of assessing trust. Is this person someone who will have my back? And the other side is will this person give me space? If both parts of the equation balance it works. The bottom line though is that we still have to say good-bye. Nothing lasts. It is a given there will be sadness in the ending. I remember the movie "The gods must be crazy" when the African said good-bye to the Brits it was simple....."we go together and now we stop." So at the end of a rich week I say the same.

But back to the highlights of Buenos Aires because I left you on Tuesday in the midst of indiviual exploration. On Wednesday we were moving as a group again and heading to Palermo. For me a walk on Libertador to Alcorta through the area of embassies and culminating at Parque Tres de Febrero is a must. The buildings and streets of this area are beautiful and the park is a welcome respite from the busyness of the city. This is the new Palermo. The happening place is Palermo Viejo divided into Palermo Soho and Palermo Hollywood. Pangs of hunger after the long walk took us to Osaka in Palermo Hollywood, one of my favorites. The ambience is enchanting and the flavors are sumptuous. Once revitalized a walk through Palermo Soho to the Botanic Gardens is a great way to see the area. For cat lovers the garden is a must! Not far from the gardens is the Museo de Eva Peron. If you want to learn more about this very powerful woman end the day here. An evening at the movies was a good finale. The group was heading to Colonia the next day so an early night was in order. If you haven't seen "Away from Her"...do!

Colonia, Uruaguay is a UNESCO site an hour trip on the buquebus from Buenos Aires. The museums capture the history of Uruguay which the Spaniards and Portugues fought over for about 70 years. The Spanish wone but the mix of both cultures with the Indigenous is visible in the history preserved in this small city. Since I have been there twice this was another day of separation. After the quiet of Colonia the music and dance were calling. This has become one of my favorite haunts this trip so we met in Monserat after the buquebus returned. And with the plus of a great mojito we danced the Son, the origin of salsa.

It is Friday and the retreat is ending but not without a walk to Abasto which I mentioned previously followed by a cab ride to La Boca. This was a long cab ride and somewhat like a tour. We traveled through Once, a barrio that is touted as the most dangerous. When I first visited Buenos Aires and lived in Almagro my host family was adamant that I had to go in colectivo or train to class because a walk would require passing through Once. Then in the years to follow though I lived in Recoleta if there was a destination that would take me close to Once the warning was repeated by many. So traveling through Once for me was traveling to the forbidden. La Boca is important for its history as the port of entry. The Museo de Bellas Artes there and the work of Benito Quinquela Martin is worth the trip. His art is powerful. The few blocks of painted buildings and artisans in La Boca is a bit of a carnival. If you dine even a couple of blocks away from this very small center you will be warned to go in taxi to the center. We walked... women armed with umbrellas!

There are many serendipitous experiences that take place in the midst of seeing the highlights and if you go with the attitude that all is changeable within the general outline you can say you have seen much in a week. For most though the pangs of saying goodbye are strong! There is just something about this city!

Plastic naked bodies...

2008-02-26T13:55:00.005-05:00

She said I would recognize the area by the mannequin shop. I must not have heard the plural because Lavalle between Puerreydon and Jean Jaures consists mostly of stores that sell, or factories that manufacture mannequins...mannequins in all shapes, sizes, colors (even bright yellow and red), families of mannequins, plus pregnant mannequins. I realize as I walk the streets near Abasto, the true home of Carlos Gardel, el moroccho, or the father of the tango, that I too am at home. Three years ago when I stopped for a week in Buenos Aires on my travels I stayed just a few blocks away for a week with an Uruguayan couple. What brought me back there today was the desire to be sure I was covering the highlights of Buenos Aires for the group here on retreat.

I am now the guide so I go back to what someone new to Buenos Aires would want to see. Since returning from Ushuaia a week ago I had settled into my routine. I work, attend spanish and salsa classes, study, exercise, write, and make time for a growing number of friends. Life has a way of taking on a certain rythym akin to one's personality. Mine requires both stimulation as well as alone time. But I have responsibility this week for a group of women and the highlights of Buenos Aires are a priority some of which I haven't visited this time around.

So what are the highlights from my perspective? When arriving on an international flight it is likely that one's feet touch the soil of South America sometime mid-morning. Arrival in this city at this hour is perfect for a capuccino at la Biela, the place to see and be seen in Recoleta. And on a Saturday the market adjacent to the cemetary is in full swing. Of course, a taste of the tango is a must. Luckily, a fabulous espectaculo, Tango a Tierra, is at Borges Centro Cultural. A great introduction to the Argentine energy. Followed by dinner at Milion around 10:30PM seals the welcome package.

No rest for the weary.... Sunday it is San Telmo. The Sunday market is a must see and the street entertainers engaging. Eat at Petanque and read the Spanish-French menu salivating over the options. Enroute to home stop at Confiteri Ideal for the Sunday milonga to watch the locals tango. It is clear there are regulars who love this dance. If you are barrio hopping which is a must in Buenos Aires the best way is to sample a coffee along the way. By now you've sampled La Biela in Recoleta and maybe Todo Mundo in San Telmo.

Monday it is truly the tourist thing sauntering down Florida and walking to Puerto Madero. Though it is expensive and in all the guide books, lunch at Cabana Las Lilas tops the list. Vidal Buzzi, equal to Zagat in the states, touts this place as one of the best and says that its quality is on the rise. So don't miss it. Take your time, sip some wine with a fabulous lunch. Then next place to hang for awhile is Plaza de Mayo, next to the Casa Rosada, and take in the demonstration of the day. Wander through Monseratt, view the historic sites, enroute to Cafe Tortoni, a landmark, for an ice cream or coffee. Though not at the top of my list for coffee, the ambience takes you back in time. Finish the day with jazz at Clasica Moderna on Callao. This Monday night was special. I chatted with the drummer's mother who gave me her email and phone number so I could learn as soon as their CD was cut. Nothing like a mom to truly be on top of the promotion!

Today I am off duty and the group is discovering the best of Buenos Aires on their own. After all some of the best adventures are serendipitious and on our own!

Ahora hablaste...dijo Facundo!

2008-02-19T13:16:00.003-05:00

Facundo, my favorite spinning instructor is back after almost 10 days. "Te extrania", (I missed you), I say. A donde estuviste? (Where where you?) "Al sur, Bariloche, Calafate, Ushuaia, " he says. "No me digas, cuando saliste de Ushuaia?" (You're kidding me, I say, when did you leave Ushuaia?) Anoche a las 9! Verdad, estuvimos en el aeropuerto al mismo tiempo! No way, we were in the airport together. (There were two planes leaving at the same time.) Ahora hablaste....Now you tell me he says. It is moments like these when I know that Buenos Aires is truly one of my homes! But before the memory of Ushuaia fades let me fill you in on the remaining hours at the end of the earth.

Waiting to board the Massimo to the Beagle Channel I see the Brits from Saturday. We are assigned different catamarans and there is a moment of sadness that we will not be traveling together. It is as if I am waving goodbye to dear friends of years. I am also observing the herd mentality. People hurry to line up and wait as if the position in line will secure something not available to those further back in line. I, on the other hand, prefer to just wait it out, board last, and take what remains. It all seems the same to me with far less hassle.

The Beagle Channel connecting the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans is 180 kilometers long, 30-183 meters deep, and from 1 kilometer to 18 kilometers in width. The waters of the Channel are both Argentine and Chilean. Though Argentine vessels can sail through Chilean waters they are not permitted to stop. This would be considered illegal entry. We navigated to La Isla de Los Lobos and watched the cormorants mingling with the sea lions. Passing the light house at the furthest point of the world we made our way to Isla Martillo to see those cute penguins you just met.

The life span of these penguins is 10-11 years and during this time they make their home here in the summer and then head north toward Brazil in the winter looking for warmer waters. If you have seen "The March of the Penguins" you know the habits of these interesting creatures. The most interesting is their mating habits. They are monogomous, at least for the season. There are more females than males so the competition is steep. But once she has her catch he is hers and he is devoted. If they procduce an egg as soon as the time is right the responsibility of sitting on the egg goes to the male. There is a very intricate dance to facilitate this transfer. She then goes off to find food and is gone for several months. What an interesting contrast!

One picture (or maybe 2) says 1,000 words....

2008-02-18T04:57:00.001-05:00

El ritmo...

2008-02-17T17:49:00.003-05:00

There is a rythym of being on the road that sets in for me around day 2. I have my bearings and some sense of the lay of the land. Yesterday was a great introduction because it was strenuous, fun, and filled with interesting people. Sipping wine at the end of the day while listening to music helped integrate the experience. Today I knew I wanted to start slow, take notes over morning coffee, study spanish, and contemplate the day ahead.

When booking today's tour on catamaran through the Beagle Channel I purposely chose later in the afternoon to leave the better part of the day free. I knew at some point I would want to see the glaciers. Though I have seen the glaciers of Patagonia in Chile it seemed important to do the same here in Argentina. With the threat of global warming one does not know how long the glaciers will be with us. Plus the chairlift to Glacier Martial is just 7 kilometers from the center of Ushuaia. This is a perfect distance for me to hike. I was also in need of some alone time.

Sometimes it strikes me as odd that I would crave alone time since after all I am traveling alone. But it is not that easy to be alone when traveling, at least not for me. There is something about not having a partner on the road that makes me more approachable. I appreciate this opportunity to meet people but I also know when it is time to retreat into solitude.

About an hour and a half into my uphill hike to the Glacier I began to wonder if it is truly just 7 kilometers from the center of town. The taxi drivers that pass and eye me as a potential fare began to look more interesting. But the walk was so beautiful and there truly were few people on the road. I did stop to take a picture and conversed with a man who had wandered away from his tour group. Very quickly we established that he is from Wisconsin. When he learned of my origins he introduced me to a reporter from one of the Chicago papers also on this tour that seemed fairly international in makeup. We chatted briefly before I continued on my way, reminded as the group returns to the bus why I choose to travel my way.

Another 15 minutes the entrance to the chairlift appeared. Shortly after spotting this in the distance I arrived, bought my ticket and embarqued. After the attendant and I exchanged a few words of greetings he said "suerte" as he sent me off in the chair. What is this "suerte" business... "good luck". I hadn't been thinking about needing luck but as my feet were dangling from the chair I began the interal dialogue..."I wonder if they check these daily. Have they had previous accidents. Am I carrying identification in case they have to contact next of kin." But I told myself to relax, there are many that make this trip daily.

The view of the town from the glacier was much more stupendous than the glacier itself and by the time I got there I was really more interested in finding a hot chocolate. The highlight was this very rich hot chocolate in the refugio. But an even more exciting find was Maximiliano. He was seated at the table adjacent to mine also sipping hot chocolate. He commented that it was "muy rico" and after a few minutes asked me to take his picture with his camera phone. One comment lead to another and soon the waiter asked him to sit at my table so he could have a free table for another customer.

Maximiliano is an Argentine electircal engineer from Rosario (Che Guevara's birthplace), working for the Navy in Ushuaia. He and his wife moved here a year ago and have subsequently decided that it is a nice place to visit but there is not enough happening for a long term stay. He wanted to practice his english and was quite good. He was pleased because he is self taught so he does not always have the opportunity to test his success. When the time came for me to head back to town for the tour he offered to drive. We hiked down the mountain together instead of riding the chair lift sharing our fear of heights along with conversation about life, the economy, dreams, etc. Mid-way down the mountainside Maximiliano says..."You look just like Elaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus)". I can't tell you how many times I have heard this same statement. There have been instances in the middle of a therapy session when a client has said out of nowhere, "You remind me so much of Elaine on Seinfeld." How the connection is made has always been a puzzle to me but to have the same link made while hiking down the mountainside from Glacier Martial in Tierra del Fuego, Argentina just about put me over the edge. It gave me a vicarious sense of what it must be like to be a celebrity.

Day 2----Tierra Del Fuego

2008-02-16T20:12:00.004-05:00

Three Brits from London, three Argentines from Buenos Aires, 1 North American from Chicago/St. Joseph together for a day with two Argentine guides from Ushuaia at the end of the earth equals raucous laughter. After 8 hours of hiking and canoeing another more important language transcended any verbal communication----the language of connection.

I generally tell others to trust their gut or more properly referred to as intuition. And I try ever so hard to listen to that inner voice. For the most part I do but there are diversions or detours along the path due to hopes, wishes and dangerous desires.....you know or "viste" as the Argentines would say. But back to the point, yesterday when I arrived in Ushuaia I was on a quest to get my bearings and to check out what the end of the earth had to offer. Since this was a whim and poorly planned I had only a very cursory understanding of what to see. Wandering in town I stopped at a tour agency to check out possibilities. As the conversation progressed at the agency I began to envision big buses and lots of people acting like cattle. My sense was that this was not going to work for me. I tend to hyperventilate in the herd. But I wasn't sure what else might be available on such short notice. I continued wandering and found a small agency with one man at a desk surrounded by beautiful pictures of incredible terrain. We talked. I promised to return and after an hour of reviewing my options over lunch I kept my promise.

I signed up for a full day in Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego, four hours trekking, lunch, followed by a canoe trip from Lago Roca to the river that leads to the end of the earth. Listening to my inner voice on this one proved right. The group was great, so many stories of people connecting from different lands. The hike was challenging. Lunch was good. And the canoe trip was both incredible as well as hysterical. The insturctions alone were worth the price of the trip.

As I write this I am sitting in Ramos Generales el Almacen sipping wine while listening to a guitarist and flautist. This was another find while roaming the streets after the tour. It is 10:30PM and still light. Just as I get used to this it will be time to head northe to Buenos Aires.

Good morning....Ushuaia!

2008-02-16T05:46:00.002-05:00

Last night at 11, though cloudy, it was just then dusk. I forgot that at the ends of the earth the days are either very long or very short, moreso than in my neck of the woods, depending on the season. In Antartica this time of year the sun sets sometime around 11 and rises around 5. So I made sure the drapes were secured. If the sun was shining this morning I wanted to decide when I would see the light of day. Today it is a full day hike in Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego and in canoe on Lago Roca. Tomorrow it will be the Canal Beagle, los penguinos y los lobos. My time is short at this end of the earth so I am focused on the highlights of the terrain and the history.

Travel Tales Enroute to Tierra Del Fuego....

2008-02-15T16:41:00.002-05:00

Check In at Aerolineas Argentina....."May I carry this bag on board? I have some liquids." "Do you have a lot of liquids?" "No" "What are they?" "Oh shampoo, other hair products, medicine, that's all." "No problem." I am traveling light so I hoist my carry on over my shoulder along with my computer bag and wonder what will happen when I go through security.

The line is long but seems to be moving fairly quickly. I see that there are two agents, one male and one female, whom I think are prepared to check anyone who sets off the scanner. I put my bag with the liquids and my bag with the laptop on the conveyor belt. I do not remove my computer from the bag. I do not take off my shoes. I do not remove my belt or any of the metal jewelry. I do not strip to the bare minimum like I would stateside. I walk through the screening machine, set off the alarm, and the agent with the gun on his hip smiles while telling me to pass. Go figure!

Several months ago I flew from Zagreb and changed planes in Frankfort. Usually once cleared through security from the departing city there is no further security check while in transit. Not so in Frankfort where there were two. One which had a single conveyor belt for a herd of people and two agents "wanding" everyone since there was no body scanner. The contrast was striking.

The Plane to Ushuaia.....Once on board I notice that the other travelers are mostly European. Yes, there are a few Argentines but I hear the language of the Brits, Germans, and French much more than Spanish. While in line for the bathroom I smile at the woman behind me. She smiles and asks in French if there is paper in the bathroom. I continue smiling but establish that if we are going to converse it will have to be in English or Spanish. She then says "is paper?" in English and "wash hands?" I continue to smile as I respond "yes" to both questions. The truth be known I am thinking "You've got to be kidding. You think the Argentines don't use toilet paper or wash their hands? This is an airplane!"

Both instances made me chuckle.....

Creating Community....

2008-02-14T14:03:00.003-05:00

I am amazed how quickly one becomes a regular in the community. They don't ask to see my membership card when I show up at the gym. I see many of the same faces as last year and we acknowledge each other though we may not speak. And when leaving this morning I see my friend who moved here a year ago from Chicago. They know how I like my capuccino at Nucha. When I walked into Piola, my favorite pizza place, late last night they acted as if I had never been gone and knew the routine. In fact the person with me asked if I went there often. I wave at the owner of the internet cafe, though I don't go there anymore, as if we are friends. The maid inquires about my son and whether or not he will be visiting this year. Is he still with his novia (girlfriend), she asks. We chat as if it was just the other day we caught up on each other's lives. This is the phenomena I noticed these past several months in Chicago as well. Though I like the annonymity of the big city it is so evident how quickly that fades as we follow our routine and begin to form relationship with those on the same path.

Mixing it up... Belgrano, Montserrat, y Las Canitas

2008-02-11T16:28:00.000-05:00

So the city has become a familiar haunt. The comfort is a good thing but my pesonality seems to prefer mixing it up. After 10 days on this familiar stomping grounds it was time to stretch. Learning about the syrahs of Argentina was a good place to start on Friday night in Belgrano. A relatively new barrrio for my frequent visits so the sites were different and certainly a class on the technicalities of wine in spanish was a challenge. I learned a bit more about the similarities of the terrain and climate with the Rhone area of France plus I tasted a few new wines to add to my list. Plus hanging out in Las Canitas after class the energy was palpable with the new possible restaurants alluring. The best parts of the weekend were the immersion in the culture.... La Opera Pampa at the Rural explained through dance, song and beautiful choreographic presentation the history in the countryside of Argentina. The war amonst the peoples of the land as well as the invasion of the Spanish was significant. The acrobatics on horseback as well as the dance was impressive. It took me back to my experiences in Salta with the gauchos. I love the music and the dance. The reality is that I love to be in it more than watch it so finding a local place to salsa was the highlight. This was the real stuff....not salsa but son.... taught by un cubano living in Argentina. Though I have taken lessons and certainly danced the dance this was intoxicating. So I am hooked, planning my schedule around dance classes and into exploring the other parts of this city undiscovered.

"No hay moneda," he says.

2008-02-10T14:55:00.000-05:00

"No tenes moneda" (You don't have change), I say. This is the second kiosk where I have tried to buy a small piece of chocolate solely for the purpose of receiving change for the "colectivo" (bus). "Donde puedo encontrar moneda?" (Where can I find change?) "No se." (I don't know.) "Pero necesito moneda en colectivo, no?" (But I need change on the bus, don't I?) "Si, necesitas moneda." (Yes, you need change.) "Entonces, que debo hacer?" (Then what do I do?) "Tenes que ir al banco." (You have to go to the bank.) Mind you, it is 7:00PM Friday and I am on my way to a class on the syrahs of Argentina at the wine school in Belgrano. I have an hour to get there but even if I had more time, though the Argentine schedule is different, there are no banks open at this hour on Friday. "Pero el banco no esta abierto ahora" (But the bank is not open now,) I say. "Si, es una locura. Pero no hay moneda," he says. (Yes, it is madness. But there is no change.) So I don't buy the chocolate and proceed north in the hopes of finding change. I am not desperate because I can always hail a taxi but I prefer to go in colectivo. A few blocks past the last kiosk I spy a small mercado and eye the cash register drawer before perusing the chocolate. Hay moneda. I leave the mercado with change and a power bar. It is just a short walk to the first stop for the colectivo.

I hope to update you at a later date on the wine class. Briefly, for over 2 1/2 hours I sampled 8 syrahs accompanied by a dish of rice and veggies with a side of bread. I listened to the expert along with 10 other students, all Argentine. These scenarios are humbling. In this instance both my fluency in the language and knowledge of wine were tested!

Un dia tipico....

2008-02-08T05:53:00.001-05:00

"So what does a typical day in Buenos Aires look like for you?" he asks. So here you have the answer to that question. Sometime around 8:00AM I come to consciousness and make my way to the coffee pot. Not until the coffee is brewing do I take care of the routine tasks. Once I can smell that enticing aroma it is with great enthusiasm that I pour that first cup. Truly I love this time of the day. With coffee and granola or a medialuna I read, write, or study spanish. Meanwhile CNN in Spanish plays in the background. This seems to have helped with my Spanish because I understand more and more. Most days by 9:00-9:30 I am out of the apartment and off to the gym for lifting, spinning or both. Three days out of the week that routine is followed by Spanish class. The other two I am making phone calls to clients in the U.S. It is the evening time that varies. For sure I drink a glass of wine, often at an outdoor resaturant, where I can take in the warmth. Maybe I dine with a friend, take in a movie, or see a show. There are nights with special events such as the Super Tuesday Party, Salsa classes at my latest discovery, or tonight it is a wine class on the syrahs of Argentina. When I write this it is clear to me that I am who I am whereever I go. Here my life is in Spanish but my routine is not much different than when in the states. The day starts and ends a bit later but my interests and routine are similar.... friends, good food, movies, the theater, exercise, dance, politics, adventure and wine!

El Super Martes!

2008-02-06T05:55:00.000-05:00

In Club Tazz in Palermo last night the energy was high and for the most part the language was English. My name tag read "Maureen-Michigan". You got it. I was at the Super Tuesday Party of Buenos Aires for ExPats and for the most part the group attending were U.S. citizens...U.S. citizens with particular political leanings. The sign next to the huge screen airing the results and commentary from CNN or MSNBC read "Democrats Abroad". This morning on CNN en espanol the major news is the results of Super Tuesday (Los resultados de Super Martes no defino el candidato para el candidato del partido democrata...Problamente McCain sea el candidato republicano.) Basically the message is that the race is close for the democrats and continues while it is fairly clear that McCain will be the republican nomination. Now I am listening to Huckabee...are you kidding me? The most important and impressive part of it all is how much attention is focused on this election. Truly, I would think I was in Chicago or St. Joe watching the news if it wasn't for the fact that it is in Spanish!

The Super Bowl in Spanish!!!

2008-02-03T19:38:00.000-05:00

So ok, you've heard this before. In fact, I just received an email with the question "Are you watching the Super Bowl in Spanish again?" The truth be known the answer is yes! It is funny how they pronounce "Manning"! The score is 7-3, Patriots leading, the end of the second quarter..."pocos minutos queda"! I did have an opportunity to go to a Super Bowl Party (for sure a bunch of expats because the Argentines are watching soccer) but opted to go with an Argentine friend to see "Amor en los Tiempos de Colera" with Javier Bardem! I didn't debate this decision for long. Though I am now enaged in the Super Bowl, I think that when south of the border I should see it from the Argentine perspective. I must add it is on Fox news. Dice sorprendiendo.... he says there is a surprise.... excuse me a moment while I check. Those of you who know me well know that it really doesn't matter if I watch this with Spanish backdrop or English. You remember that I am the woman who bought Football for Dummies when Shaun was tight end ... or was it wing back... See where I need help. I am not proud. That is why I chose Javier Bardem.

"Tanto Tiempo", ella dijo.

2008-02-02T13:25:00.001-05:00

"So much time", she said. That was the woman who works at the lavanderia by my apartment. So some of them do notice with my coming and going that it has been awhile. But for me just three days since my feet touched Argentine soil it is as if I never left. It has become such familiar territory for me that I make myself vary my route to the gym, to yoga, to classes and think about other ways to stretch. There are a few of my favorite haunts that are absolute musts but discovering new places to sip capuccino or dine is what excites me. And contemplating other ways to immerse myself intrigues me. Last night over wine and appetizers a friend talked about the reopening ot the world renound Teatro Colon after two years of renovation work. "It will be a black tie gala affair and I want to attend", he said. I pulled out my press pass with "Global Woman", a new magazine that has included me on their list of writers. "I haven't used this yet, what a great way to christen it." We agreed that is would be worth a trip back in the fall.

In the taxi on the way home the conversation with the driver was as if I were a local. He knew otherwise as he queried me about Chicago. When I said good-bye he welcomed me to his country once again and said, "espero que disfrutes y tenga mucho sexo". Translated he wished me a good time and lots of sex. I can't recall a cab driver ever extending that wish in Chicago. So we are back to the basic differences in culture and perspctive on cleavage!

Bienvenida a Buenos Aires!

2008-02-01T06:32:00.000-05:00

How is it that blogspot knows where I am? It never ceases to amaze me when I log on in Argentina my home page and directions are in Spanish with no instructions from me to change the language. What a world!

Barely 48 hours since my feet touched Argentine soil I am into my routine. Gym membership in hand I made my way to spinning class giving the expected kiss to instructors I hadn't seen for months. The new equipment looked good but otherwise all was as I had remembered. Certainly I saw most of the same trainers and many participants with familiar faces. Enroute I passed my favorite fish market and received a big smile from my friend the vendor. Sometimes I wonder if these neighbors of mine know how long I have been gone or if they think that perhaps I just haven't passed their way of late. Time just flies.

There are certain necessities when I arrive. Of course my routine includes a visit to American Express to change money and then the membership to the gym heads the list. Once these two important tasks have been accomplished a visit to Bonafide for un cuarto kilo de cafe molido fino and a trip to my local supermercado to stock up for the week are essential. But most important are the text messages to some of the Argentine and Expat friends to see if we can connect. Though I landed with an open calendar, as I wanted, the dates are filling with dinners and gatherings of those in my southern community.

My geographic boundaries of home are broad. This was confirmed when last night I watched the debate between Barak and Hillary with voice over in Spanish. It was a challenge to follow. For sure the Argentines are looking North and wondering with those in the states what will evolve! I was assured last night at dinner with friends that noone in Argentina pays much attention to Hillary's cleavage since it is nothing compared to Christina's, the president here, who flaunts hers regularly!

Stay tuned!

Sleeping Around in the City!

2008-01-29T09:30:00.000-05:00

Aside from the entry about travels to Europe I haven't had much to say. Probably because my focus was on sleeping around and I was hesitant to tell you. But it is not what you think! What a shame! Returning from Buenos Aires last June I knew city life was essential but I also knew that the expat life was not for me. Though I know Buenos Aires and Argentina will be a regular stop in my travels I will not relocate there. It was clear the time had come to head back to the city I never stopped calling home. Yes, my roots are in Chicago, the windy city, and the energy of my home was calling. But how to pull this off, yet maintain the many important anchors in St. Joseph, Michigan, was a challenge. And an even bigger challenge was deciding where to land in this city that offered a myriad of options. It came to me that the best way to decide was not decide until I had "slept around".

In the midst of transition it is back to the basics. Maslow's hierarchy loomed large in my mind. I was on the bottom rung seeking shelter. My needs were very specific: short-term, furnished accommodations, in the heart of downtown Chicago, at an affordable price. I thought about placing an ad, you know, "desperately seeking shelter", but the thought of that lacked appeal. Friends steered me toward Craig's List with reassurance that all needs could be met by Craig.

Nothing is quite as easy as it sounds so it was not surprising when the first visit to Craig's list offered nothing but rentals out of the range of affordability. Most were geared toward corporate rentals with the company footing the bill. When one did catch my eye in the gold coast area I was on it. Entering the lobby my intuition said it was not the place. It had that look and smell like it had been around a long time with not much attention paid to sprucing it up. I queried a man leaving the lobby about the place. "So do you live here?" I asked. "Well, yes" he said, "I sold a condo near-by a couple of years ago and decided to just rent." "And how do you like it", I asked. "Well I'm a truck driver and am on the road most of the month so it works for me. But you can see, the building is old." Mind you, he didn't say vintage, quaint or historic. He said OLD! There you have it! And yes, after seeing the unit, that would be the best adjective to describe the place.

Just as I was beginning to think my dream was lofty and not to be reached, Dan posted his place. Looked good, the price was right, and my timing was on it When sitting at Starbuck's on Michigan Avenue we connected via phone and made the plan for the tour. This cute young man with a baseball cap opened the door to his place on Wacker Drive viewing Navy Pier. What more could I want, except maybe he could stick around instead of just sublet. Now if he came with the apartment I could truly say I was "sleeping around". No such luck.... off to Boston the place was mine for three months. The deal was done with a one paragraph letter of agreement, cash and a set of keys. It was an "if you build it they will come" sort of thing, but it began my city tour. Six months later I have claimed several neighborhoods in the city as mine....the top of the Magnificent Mile, the Loop, Bucktown, the Gold Coast and Lincoln Park. Now I am heading back to Buenos Aires with plans to check out Streeterville on my return.

Stay tuned for more on "Sleeping Around in the City"......

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2008-01-04T09:21:00.000-05:00

Though I am still in Chicago my vision is looking south. When I will head to Argentina remains a mystery but it will happen before February 23rd for sure. I am on to lead a retreat at that time and will be meeting travelers again at EZE.

This entry will be short. The intent is first to wish you the best in the new year. Second, to tell you to check out Transitions Abroad January/February issue. This magazine has a 30 year history and began with the purpose of fostering responsible travel. Articles and authors spanned the globe and brought a message to those who wanted to see the world immersing oneself and not just be a tourist in a foreign land. This issue is the last of an era. Although it will continue to provide information through its website a print copy of information will no longer be available. On the last page of the final edition you will find my article. It is an honor to be part of this final hurrah!

Home for the Holidays! But where is home?

2007-12-25T10:59:00.000-05:00

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.

The Dalmatian Coast and Dubrovnik...Wanderlust in Croatia Continued

2007-12-19T08:40:00.000-05:00

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.

Zagreb...Wanderlust in Croatia Continued....

2007-12-19T08:35:00.000-05:00

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.

Wanderlust in Croatia

2007-12-19T07:57:00.000-05:00

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.

She said..."It is time for an update,girl!"

2007-12-12T10:35:00.000-05:00

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.....

Sunny Skies, Mountains, and My Son!

2007-04-14T10:44:00.000-05:00

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.

Welcome home, maam...she says.

2007-04-04T08:39:00.000-05:00

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.

The Count Down...

2007-03-31T10:07:00.000-05:00

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

The Expat Community...

2007-03-28T06:39:00.000-05:00

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...

Mis Gloriosos Hermanos...

2007-03-27T05:59:00.000-05:00

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.

Selling Herbalife to Succeed or Just Survive...

2007-03-26T10:30:00.000-05:00

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...

Guefilte Fish Festival

2007-03-25T14:34:00.000-05:00

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....

Writer's Block

2007-03-23T05:52:00.000-05:00

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.....

Saying Good-bye Slowly...

2007-03-19T11:12:00.000-05:00

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.

Back to La Terapeuta, Psicologa, Analista

2007-03-16T06:11:00.000-05:00

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!!!

The Best and the Beast of Bolivia...

2007-03-15T06:17:00.000-05:00

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.

The Salar and Heading South...

2007-03-12T13:38:00.000-05:00

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

Uyuni, Bolivia

2007-03-08T10:22:00.000-05:00

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....

Humahuaca...

2007-03-06T12:07:00.000-05:00

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...

Los Gauchos...

2007-03-05T11:40:00.000-05:00

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!

Salta...

2007-03-04T15:29:00.000-05:00

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.

Disculpame...mucho tiempo...

2007-03-02T13:23:00.000-05:00

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.

Live From the Red Carpet...

2007-02-25T19:40:00.000-05:00

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!!!

Los Oscars..

2007-02-24T10:01:00.000-05:00

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.

El Consulado de Bolivia en La Republica Argentina...

2007-02-22T20:10:00.000-05:00

"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.

La Telenovela...

2007-02-19T10:49:00.000-05:00

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.

Paseaperros, Piropos, Pregnancy...

2007-02-15T11:37:00.000-05:00

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!!

Uno, Dos, Tres...Cinco, Seis, Siete....

2007-02-14T06:07:00.000-05:00

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!

Six degrees of separation...

2007-02-13T05:54:00.000-05:00

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.

Espectaculo...

2007-02-11T06:16:00.000-05:00

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!"

Hey... Follow Me...

2007-02-10T07:04:00.000-05:00

The world community responds to words that evoke memories deep in the heart. This morning I opened my mail and read a message from Sweet who has been following my blog. He is a friend of a young woman who I consider one of my nieces, Sarah, who now lives in Denver. She and I share twenty plus years of history. Sweet tells me he studied in Mendoza as a college student and remembered a magical moment when an Argentine woman looked in his eyes and melodically sang those words..."me encanta". Compliments of Sweet I share with you Iguazu, one of the wonders of the world which brought back incredible memories for me. I remember the spell these falls cast on me when viewing from both the Argentine and Brazilian frontier!

Me encanto...

2007-02-09T05:01:00.000-05:00

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.

The Tour Guide...Facilitator...Go For

2007-02-07T05:18:00.000-05:00

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.

Final preparations... a northamerican's perspective

2007-02-06T05:46:00.000-05:00

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..."

El beso de la mujer arana...

2007-02-05T14:49:00.000-05:00

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!!!

2007-02-05T06:03:00.000-05:00

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?

Los Infiltrados

2007-02-04T15:16:00.000-05:00

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!

Life's Contradictions...

2007-02-02T05:03:00.000-05:00

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.

Vida Natural

2007-02-01T09:48:00.000-05:00

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!!!

La Terapeuta,El Psicologo, La Analista

2007-01-31T04:50:00.001-05:00

"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?

La lavanderia

2007-01-30T07:04:00.000-05:00

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.

Facundo...Big Beautiful Biker Legs and Bigger Besos

2007-01-29T15:49:00.000-05:00

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!

Adelante....Atras

2007-01-28T11:03:00.000-05:00

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!

To text or not to text...

2007-01-26T07:44:00.000-05:00

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.

A P.S for today's entry....A chip off the old block...

2007-01-25T08:59:00.001-05:00

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

2007-01-25T05:29:00.001-05:00

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....

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda...

2007-01-24T05:50:00.000-05:00

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?

The first day at school...

2007-01-23T06:18:00.000-05:00

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!

What a World!

2007-01-22T08:49:00.000-05:00

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...

In the lounge in Atlanta....A room divided

2007-01-21T19:11:00.000-05:00

WAY TO GO BEARS!!!!

D-Day....Departure Day....

2007-01-21T07:19:00.000-05:00

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.

Greetings!

2007-01-11T10:40:00.000-05:00

Chao....Te mando un besote y abrazo... Mas en unos dias! M