Not-Really Morning, Ostinatto
I wake up sleepy, my vision slightly altered. “Que hora es?” I inquire to a lady mopping the floors.
Noon.
My face feels inflated, one eyelid puffed, my upper cheek pink and shiny. If I find this mosquito, I may not feel any remorse once it’s been squashed.
Today’s goals – to begin settling into the unsettled, run small errands, and buy mosquito repellent. Baby Steps.
Café, Avenue Indepedencia
16:22 – that’s what my new watch reads. My pants are damp, hair wet, shirt rain-spotted. Taxis, buses, & Volkswagens criss-cross a wide intersection. A fruit stand protrudes from the side of a building, its oranges a stain of color against the overcast day. From across the street through a large window, I sip an espresso at a small café with wooden chairs, low curtains, and two servers wearing matching red-striped collared shirts. There’s a nostalgic feel in here; it conjures images of a little French café where old men argue Politics around glasses of Pastis 51.
a snapshot - from the hostel to the present...
I hit the Banco on Avenue Belgrano, realize after several attempts that the ATM is rejecting my card, ask a fellow for another Banco, walk a few blocks, rain starts, walk briskly a few blocks, able to extract money at Banco number 2, stop by gas station on Chacabuco, ask if they sell sim cards, am redirected to a phone/electronic shop on Avenue Indepedencia, should have a local number tomorrow, ask where I can buy a watch, walk a few blocks to an eyeglass store, find a watch, old man shows me how to use watch, walk back towards hostel, stop in a Panadaria, buy a powdered sugar cake, eat the powdered sugar cake, get caught in a down-pour of rain, am wiping powdered sugar off my face, find a hardware store, still eating powdered sugar cake, buy a three prong adapter, wonder what the shop dog's name is but too timid to ask, run back outside, still raining, still eating powdered sugar cake, see café across the street, it reminds me of grandma, tell the man with the striped shirt yo quiero café, find myself at the table, still eating powdered sugar cake and now, looking out the window.
...at the moment,
It's 0:51 and I'm feeling grateful for the watch, the three-prong convertor, and the " and @ keys on my laptop. Going to sleep soon, armed with mosquito repellent! :D
Goodnight
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
bienvenidos
...Ezeiza Ministro (Buenos Aires) Airport
I have the feeling I entered through the exit door to get to this area. Prior to this I was sent back to the customs line twice -- the first time, for going to the Lady before I was signaled to, and the second, for handing her the wrong form.
Feeling a bit awkward, I stand here at Baggage Claim Carousel 5, my fingers trembling slightly. And who comes to brighten things? Big blue eyes and little gold earrings, a toddler wobbles her way toward me and holds up her doll gesturing for me to take it. I take up the invitation, cradle the doll, and hand it back smiling.
A simple exchange, my first welcome and introduction to this new place.
...Ostinatto Hostel, San Telmo
One Manuel Tienda Leon Shuttle Bus and one car ride later, I arrive at San Telmo in front of Ostinatto Hostel.
San Telmo, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Buenos Aires was once home to a society of Aristocrats who after the Yellow Fever Epidemic of 1871 fled northward, leaving behind grand mansions. European Immigrants filled these empty spaces, subdividing the mansions into ¨conventillos¨ which accommodated multiple families. Today the area is considered the birthplace of Tango. This neighborhood was alluring because of its cobblestone walkways, narrow streets and supposed bohemian/artistic culture.
Ostinatto Hostel, a 5 story early-twentieth century building, renovated with a minimalist twist will be my temporary shelter. My room is a quaint six-bed female dorm with large lockers to store packs and valuables. A contrast to the modern exterior, the room has glossy wood floors, 15-20 foot ceilings with crown molding, and two large French doors that lead to a colorful balcony adorned with potted flowers.
One of the first things I want to do is dump half of the contents of my bag. It´s damn heavy (Mo, you called this :)) I spread the contents on my bed, find that a majority are wet from rainfall, and then decide to keep the contents. Everything is useful.
...at the Mercado, `round the corner from the hostel
It´s small, comparable to a large convenience store. A deli stands before me. Jamón, Queso. A man approaches, white-haired and tall. He gestures to a young boy who is walking toward us to let me order first.
I quickly say,¨Jamón y Queso, por favor.¨
He asks me how many grams I would like, to which I respond,¨one person¨. They exchange looks and smile.
The old man asks, ¨¿Englais?¨
¨Si,Si,¨ I say.
He responds, ¨Ah buhm-ah.¨
I file through my limited Spanish vocabulary list in my head. I don´t know this word.
He continues talking, his sentences too fast, they fly over my head.
¨¿Estados Unidos?¨
¨Si,Si,¨ I say.
He continues talking. I´ve lost him at Englais. In the midst of his words I catch, ¨Bush¨. It clicks.
¨¡Obama!¨ I cheer,¨¡Si, Obama!¨
They laugh and chime their favor for America´s newly elected President.
... at the moment
I´m in front of a computer wide awake in the twilight hours, grace to a mosquito who, while I was sleeping, managed to create 3 itchy lumps on my face. Of the many things I packed, mosquito repellent was not one :(
I have the feeling I entered through the exit door to get to this area. Prior to this I was sent back to the customs line twice -- the first time, for going to the Lady before I was signaled to, and the second, for handing her the wrong form.
Feeling a bit awkward, I stand here at Baggage Claim Carousel 5, my fingers trembling slightly. And who comes to brighten things? Big blue eyes and little gold earrings, a toddler wobbles her way toward me and holds up her doll gesturing for me to take it. I take up the invitation, cradle the doll, and hand it back smiling.
A simple exchange, my first welcome and introduction to this new place.
...Ostinatto Hostel, San Telmo
One Manuel Tienda Leon Shuttle Bus and one car ride later, I arrive at San Telmo in front of Ostinatto Hostel.
San Telmo, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Buenos Aires was once home to a society of Aristocrats who after the Yellow Fever Epidemic of 1871 fled northward, leaving behind grand mansions. European Immigrants filled these empty spaces, subdividing the mansions into ¨conventillos¨ which accommodated multiple families. Today the area is considered the birthplace of Tango. This neighborhood was alluring because of its cobblestone walkways, narrow streets and supposed bohemian/artistic culture.
Ostinatto Hostel, a 5 story early-twentieth century building, renovated with a minimalist twist will be my temporary shelter. My room is a quaint six-bed female dorm with large lockers to store packs and valuables. A contrast to the modern exterior, the room has glossy wood floors, 15-20 foot ceilings with crown molding, and two large French doors that lead to a colorful balcony adorned with potted flowers.
One of the first things I want to do is dump half of the contents of my bag. It´s damn heavy (Mo, you called this :)) I spread the contents on my bed, find that a majority are wet from rainfall, and then decide to keep the contents. Everything is useful.
...at the Mercado, `round the corner from the hostel
It´s small, comparable to a large convenience store. A deli stands before me. Jamón, Queso. A man approaches, white-haired and tall. He gestures to a young boy who is walking toward us to let me order first.
I quickly say,¨Jamón y Queso, por favor.¨
He asks me how many grams I would like, to which I respond,¨one person¨. They exchange looks and smile.
The old man asks, ¨¿Englais?¨
¨Si,Si,¨ I say.
He responds, ¨Ah buhm-ah.¨
I file through my limited Spanish vocabulary list in my head. I don´t know this word.
He continues talking, his sentences too fast, they fly over my head.
¨¿Estados Unidos?¨
¨Si,Si,¨ I say.
He continues talking. I´ve lost him at Englais. In the midst of his words I catch, ¨Bush¨. It clicks.
¨¡Obama!¨ I cheer,¨¡Si, Obama!¨
They laugh and chime their favor for America´s newly elected President.
... at the moment
I´m in front of a computer wide awake in the twilight hours, grace to a mosquito who, while I was sleeping, managed to create 3 itchy lumps on my face. Of the many things I packed, mosquito repellent was not one :(
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
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