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Our first viaje come and gone. We left the city and headed to Tigre, a little city located in the midst of the Parana delta and a mere 50-minute train ride away. We found our bright orange hostel right away and ended up spending the night in a room with a gaucho (Argentina cowboy), a Mexican girl who we never saw, an Aussie, and a Cuban man. The only real contact we made with any of these people (besides me dreaming up conversations with the gaucho that ended in us being invited to live in las Pampas with him for a week or so), was an assumedly hammered one with the Cuban. We think he was very drunk at least... He was a psychologist and dance teacher, and he kept giving us life and marriage advice. Ironic being that he was 35 and on his 7th marriage... She, on the other hand, was a very nice, semi-sober woman trying to get him to bed. But honestly, that cuban was is really the reason why we love hostels.
The first day we just meandered around. It's a huge city-goer weekend getaway, so people watching was a great success. It seems that everybody in Argentina is in a relationship (mostly matured girls with skinny, pierced boys)- and we know this from the almost pornographic PDA going on. It's also pregnant season (remember: it's their spring). You could spend a whole day watching Argentines (we do this is BA too, but instead it takes place at a parque and involves us counting how many rollerbladers take a tumble). On Sunday we woke ourselves up early, at 11, and walked around Puerto de Frutos, a giant outside market with food and crafts. The only thing we bought was a waffle on a stick with ham and cheese inside (they had waffles with chocolate inside, dipped in dulce de leche cream- I salivated but said no), but they had some great leather goods, MATE gear, pet shops with tarantulas, and gigantic Amazonian insects in glass cases. Our point in visiting Tigre was to get some time on the water, so after deciding we didn't have the energy to rent our own canoe, we paid for an hour ride on a "lancha," a boat that seated about 25. It was definitely the better decision because we got to ride around various parts of the delta that were farther away and see the houses of the "islenos" (islanders). Each house had a different name, a dock, and a boat, and there was a definite community feeling. Along the way, there were a few abandoned, rusty boats that looked as if they hadn't been touched in years and some camping grounds that you could get to via kayak or canoe.
On Monday, we ventured into the barrio of La Boca, probably the first place we've felt slightly unsafe. We knew it was considered the poorest barrio before we went, but we wanted to see a few things. We visited the Boca stadium (the best pro soccer team here- Maradona played for them in the past) and the museum of national futbol pride. First, we won't be going to any futbol games at the boca stadium because we've given ourselves to Rio Plate. But secondly, Sarge would have to carry his baton with him because I can't imagine being obviously foreign and walking through the dark alleyways to get to the game at 10 PM (but it DOES give Sarge an excuse to carry the baton...(Sarge wants me to write on here that he calls it a "nightstick"). After we were bored and entertained ourselves in the museum just so we got a run for our money, we found our way to Los Caminitos, blocks of colorful, wooden houses that feature tango dancing in the street. It was too cold to tango, but the houses were amazing.
About YERBA MATE, a new favorite. Mate is a caffeinated, herbal tea that EVERYONE drinks here. In the park, at work, at home, for snack... People even have little to-go mate bags with a mate cup (the most traditional are made from gourds), a filtered straw, mate, sugar, and a thermos of hot water. You pour hot water over the leaves and sip; the straw filters the leaves. The gourd is passed around in a clockwise order and each person finishes it before giving it back to the "brewer" (whoever is the pourer for the day). You re-fill the cup until "palitos" (little sticks) start floating to the top. There's all sorts of rules to mate, and we finally got our true Argentine mate experience when Vicky invited us to her apartment for a traditional Argentine afternoon snack of mate and facturas (sugared and honeyed croissants OR churros OR chocolate filled pastries, etc- we had them all). And although we've heard that it's an acquired taste, we luckily both love mate. Two mate pros here.
Even though I don't follow fashion, being a girl it's hard not to notice trends. One trend here that I noticed (only because I had one in every color and design until 6th grade) is scrunchies. High ponytails and...scrunchies. Can't say I hate it... Can't say I won't try to bring it to the states...
If Sarge and I ever are at a loss for what we should do with our lives, we are going to be professional re-translators for signs and toy boxes that have already been translated. I'd love to buy that "amusing funny" doll.
Or we will do our best to teach Argentines what littering means. No, it is not socially acceptable to rip up your subway ticket into a million little pieces and throw it into the street. Yes, we saw you rip off your ice cream wrapper and just drop it, little girl. It's almost shocking how close someone is to a trashcan but they choose to put it in a puddle of water. But on a higher note, I guess it does provide at least one more job.
And slight change in the South America plans. Looks like we may be saying ciao to BA sooner than we though. Hola, Patagonia and WWOOFing. Explanations coming soon, parents.
Also, Happy birthday Grandma! I love you so much!
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