Grease was Drooling Off the $.80 Hamburgers

Barsucho

Everyone is familiar with the term dive bar. It connotes grimy beer coated floors, dampness clinging to the walls, and an unwelcome scent that is guaranteed to stick to your clothes. Add to this, ripped upholstery, cave like lighting, and cheep beer and we have a vision of our classic dive bar. Oh, can we sprinkle in some shady characters also. This is also the texture of a barsucho.
We went to Bar de Juan, creatively named no doubt, to see an Argentinian AC/DC cover band. The guitarist was excellent and the lead singer barely spoke English. You could not distinguish one word from the next, you sort of just had to follow the rhythm and the pitch and play the words in your head.

The crowd ranged from 18-40, predominantly men, with long shaggy pony tales headbanging to She Shook Me All Night Long. The majority of the crowd was slugging liter beers and sucking down Marlboro reds. After stomping around in the mosh pit for a while I visited the lavatory. Huddled over an overflowing toilet bowl were three dudes snorting emphatically trying to be inconspicuous. THERE ARE THREE OF YOU IN ONE BROKEN BATHROOM STALL!!! One of the long haired patrons tilted his head back, looked in the mirror, and wiped his nose. He checked his amigo and gave him a thumbs up. The last head banger left the bathroom with white batter caked around his nostrils.

As the music accelerated the crowd would begin to mosh. Pushing and pulling, jumping around, and crashing into each other. I will say that everyone was pretty friendly about it, no bloody noises or cracked skulls like you would find at a hard core show. Sometimes we put our arms around each others shoulder to create a wall of bouncing and rocking bodies while belting out the lyrics to whatever song was attempted to be sung. If someone fell no one intentionally stepped on them.

The band gave three encores, and by encore I mean they stood on stage and played three more songs. They were neither dramatic or suspense building. We left the blackened cave after the last song and headed home. For a time reference, it was 5AM. The band did not go on until 2AM. Nothing is done early here. I looked down at my feet. My shoes were covered with tar like muck that climbed 5 inches up my pant legs. Mere washed my pants the following day and said the stains would not come out. I have a little bit of barsucho to carry with me always.

New Teacher

I have a new Spanish teacher. Apparently there was a breakdown in communication when I was signing up for classes and Seba thought I was only going to take class for two weeks. That however is not the case I will be taking classes until the first of December. My original instructor signed up to teach another classes in my time slot so Seba found me another teacher.

I am pleased. I think this new teacher, Ines, is more qualified. Only time will tell. She has some decent ideas on teaching and is bringing valuable varied readings to class. We spoke about the philosophical underpinnings of my existence and the following day she brought a book that explored the material. She spent 6 years living in Atlanta four of which were spent teaching in a charter middle school. She returned back to Argentina to be near her family and a familiar culture. She is in school, gives Spanish classes, and works full time at an outsourced call center for Capital One. ¨Hi this is Ines at Capital One, how can I help you?¨ She is hardworking and trying to make the lessons meaningful.

Another bonus is that I find myself yawing less. For the first two weeks, I could not control myself. It was like I was on auto yawn in a sleeplessness factory. I didn´t know why I had this affliction. I have been getting enough sleep. It appears now that I was bored. The flow of the class and delivery of information were not holding my interest and I was unsure what to do to improve the situation. This teacher change seems to have made a difference. Hoo-ray for learning!

Rock Climbing

I had my first rock climbing lesson on Thursday. I have practiced the sport at indoor climbing walls in the US. The facilities are well maintained and well staffed. With no experience and no knowledge you can take a quick belay class (how to lower and protect your compadre from falling) and get right to climbing. The walls are often some sort of particle board or in the case of a high quality arena they are constructed to seem like an actual mountain face reaching X feet into the air, hopefully a minimum of fifty feet.

I searched out and found three walls in the city of Cordoba. After seeing the first I hoped that there might be a variance in quality but each succesive visit yielded the same thing. The walls were plywood, old plywood crumbling at the edges, and the grips were screwed on, in what didn´t look like the most prefession of construction. Whatever, I chose a wall at a gym where there were a good number fo climbers and they were all friendly. Some practiced their English I worked on my Spanish and the relationship began.

The class was sweet. The instructor, Sebastian (yes another Sebastian) was awesome. He was patient and fully explained the parts and usage of all the basic equipment. There are agenices that ensure the quality of the products and I should make sure the equipment contained the mark of the agency. He was very impressed with the gear I had. I brought with me a pair of climbing shoes, a harness, and a caribiner nothing more, all of which were at the lowest level of quality by a well respected manufacturer. He asked my the price, I told him $70 for the shoes and $70 for the other stuff. He turned to the other guys and said something along the lines of did you hear that, $70. He explained to me that the bottom line equpiment available here was of lower quality and more expensive. He wanted to know if I could ship him some gear for personal use. I am going to a customs intermediary to find out about importation issues on Monday.

After about and hour of listening and learning we went straight to the wall. The wall looks dilapidated and relatively unsafe compared to what I had used in the US but everyone else was confident so up I went. Oh, let me mention that the person belaying below was also a newbie and there was no padding just ceramic tiles. I climbed up hanging the caribiners and clipping the rope until I made it to the top. The top portion of the wall inverted and as I was hanging on the only thought that was running through my head is hold tight if you fall you may very well die. All worked out. Then we switched places, the other kid went up and I couldn´t help but wonder what he must be thinking. Foreign guy who is doing this for the first time and has a loose grasp on the language at best is holding my safety in his hands. Once again, no problems. Then Sebastian went up to take the gear down. I was at the bottom belaying, ensuring that if he fell he would not come crashing to the ground. He climbs up and then falls, intentionally. I grabbed the rope and lunged two steps forward, shock streaking across my face. He smiled and explained what I should be doing so that I wouldn´t be taken off balance in the case of my partner falling. Point taken, the learning experience was valuable, but whoa man.

Meat

Yes meat! In Argentina cow is king. Welcome to the land of asado…the ultimate in bar-b-q experience. I have attended asados in the past and they are a good time: people passing the time telling stories, sparring over philosophy, drinking wine, beer, or fernet and coke, and of course beef. There is always a pile of meat on the grill. The grill is not our typical American construction. It is a permanent cement structure built for grilling, not a Weber or a smoker, but brick and mortar. I can not come close to naming all the parts of the cow that are consumed during a large banquet style asado. I for one am not afraid to try new things. You are looking at a guy who ate brains in Budapest and guinea pig in Peru. I can however tell you that I do not enjoy eating organs. I am not ok with eating intestines, heart, stomach, and kidneys. I have tried them and have yet to say mmmm delicious, followed by the question ¨What was that?¨ only to be told that I had just consumed roasted cow lung. So, during the meal I opt out of organs and indulge in the scrumptious deliciousness of all other parts of the cow.

We were sitting around the table at Seba´s brother’s house about 15 miles outside the city. The kids were running around the yard, the soccer game was on in the background, the dogs were sniffing the ground for any dropped morsels and I asked, ¨What is that?¨ Seba responded, ¨Rincon.¨ I did not know what that was, but after a brief discussion with descriptions such as ´the part that filters´ and ´associated with alcohol´ I came to the conclusion that it was kidney. I looked over at the winter’s worth of muck, debris, and insects in the pool and decided that eating the filter would not be a good idea. I passed.

Not only is meat prevalent at the famed asado, but at virtually all times. While in the states I rarely ate meat, not that I don’t like it but I choose veggies over beef. In the last week and a half I have easily consumed 20 meat based meals, probably more than I have in the last year. Vegetables are not a focal point. I am now adjusting to the dietary rhythm of life. It is a necessity, but I still need more veggies than are traditionally available. I have taken to stocking the kitchen with fruit for breakfast and I sneak a carrot or a pepper during the day.

I walked into the house last Saturday for lunch and everyone was already at the table eating sausages and ribs. Alone on my plate lay two solitary carrots, Seba turned to me and smiled and said, ¨Almuerzo.¨ Very funny, please pass the meat.

The Days

I have been in Argentina for about a week now. When I was looking for flights, it was a few hundred dollars cheaper to fly to Santiago, Chile then to Cordoba or Buenos Aires. I looked at a map and calculated the distance to be about 300 miles from Santiago to Cordoba. I figured the trip would be about 6 to 10 hours by bus. Whoops!!! It was a 17 hour trip. We needed to cross the Andes which were gorgeous, steep, and snow covered. Then we stopped at customs for about 1.5 hours. Live and learn. No worries though because the buses are wonderfully comfortable.

I received a warm welcome at the Alonsos, with whom I stayed the last time I was here. It was six A.M., a few hours before they would be going to work so we shared some coffee, biscuits, and conversation.

I spent the following five days running around the city like a crazy person putting together a schedule of activities to make the most of my time in Cordoba. After 5 hectic days I now have a virtual curriculum of things to do. I am taking three art classes (painting, carbon, drawing), Spanish, salsa, and cooking. I have also found a gym with a rock climbing wall and yoga classes. I am set to go. Please try to imagine the hysteria of organizing this schedule. Each time I happened upon an institution that provided one of the classes a horribly broken conversation would ensue that either ended up with directions to another location that may offer similar services or a concession of the norm so that I may take the already existing class. At the art school and culinary institute the programs started a few months ago, intrigued by this hapless foreigner they offered to suspend the regular entrance requirements and allow me join their programs for the few months that I am here. The people are welcoming and have been very accommodating.

What will truly blow your mind is the cost of the activities. Art classes work out to be no more than $3.00/class, cooking is $20/class, salsa group classes are about $1.50/class, and the kicker is the private salsa classes with Edguardo are about $3.50/class. Edguardo is the instructor of the group classes at a salon I happened upon during my wanderings and I asked if I could take private classes. He said sure and that they would be 10 pesos an hour and held in his peluqueria (barber shop). Twice a week I go to the peluqueria for private instruction. He brings his girlfriend so that I have someone to practice with. Unbelievable.

Even though this is a self determined schedule, the week is still tiring and the weekends are welcomed. I am heading into week two of Mike’s home-grown university schedule.

Writing Again

I miss this. I thoroughly enjoy putting words on paper or in this case screen. I definitely do not enjoy putting words on paper; it has been to many years of typing at this point. I find the best way to transcribe existence is being able to tote a laptop wherever it is you need to be and plop down and sprinkle some words across the page. Unfortunately at this juncture I do not have the luxury of computer mobility and must be tied to a desktop at either school or at the house.

What school you may wonder? I am taking Spanish classes in Argentina and will be here for the next few months. Well if you are in Argentina, what house then? I am staying with the family Alonso. They are awesome. I stayed with them the last time I was here in 2005. The son of the family, Sebastian, has opened a language school. The school I am attending. A thriving entrepreneurial spirit is always appreciated. This is his second year in business. It is challenging to attract a continuous flow of students. I hope that the business remains viable and continues to grow.