view of the full moon from my borrowed tent at salta municipal campsite.
nacho and me.
view of downtown buenos aires from the ecological reserve.
scrabble night at the hostal.oh man, what a month. so it all started out with a week on kevin´s floor, half a block from the widest street the world (i counted 20 lanes, but ive never been good at math) complete with pricey vegan food, spanish school, greenhorn 18 year old americans, and the works.
then, kevin got the flu, so i got the heck out of there and into a hostel in a quieter area of town. and, seeing how its winter down here, my hostel mates were all of 7, 4 of whom were employees. so it made for a nice, querky, family like feeling, plus i got a whole loft to myself, sweet! im not quite sure where those two weeks went, but i think i may have lost them between seeing jessica (the quiet librarian of the group) jump up on a bar and rip off her top to ¨i love rock and roll,¨ fighting with brenden (the reincarnated hemmnigway, but nicer, probably) over countless games of scrabble, taco teusdays at a chipotle copy-cat, run by a ¨buddy¨of andy (the sox fan from boston who also happens to speak italian, portugese, and a bit of spanish which he charmingly blends with english swear words), not to mention countless batches of homemade empanadas. oh and the 2 kids who run the place like to invite all their friends and friends bands over for house parties every so often. so with all that it was rather easy to loose track of things; like time... and my debit card.
yep i was all ready to check out and catch a bus north when, whoopsie daisies... wheres my debit card?? and since the combined iq of the fine people who opperate the phone bank at wells fargo comes somewhere close to that of a choripan (which are delicious as far a sausage sandwiches go, but none too bright), i found myself stuck in buenos aires for a week with no more cash, which meant goodbye hostel and hello nacho.
no, no, im not talking about the deliciously cheesy mexican ourdeurve (? no clue.), but a wonderful new argentine friend who opened up his floor to me in a little artists flat in palermo, hollywood (there is also a palermo, soho. so tacky). and after going on tours of the areas best grafiti murals, drinking beer out of gigantic plastic cups at la bomba del tiempo (the biggest and coolest percussion show ever), ¨helping¨him with the lighting design at a local club (really he just let me push some buttons in time with the music for a while), playing darts in his kitchen, watching a silent movie in the national library, and teaching him the beauty of american delicacies such as home made steak tacos, and chocolate chip cookies, being stuck in buenos aires really wasnt all that bad.
and that brings us to salta. i decided that debit cards are over rated and im not about to let little problems, hiccups rather, like not having any money keep me from traveling. so i bought a bus ticket with my credit card and arrived just in time to not get the last seat on the only bus leaving for san pedro de atacma for the next 4 days. no problem. i showed up at the municipal campsite, tentless, and one of the women there took pity on me and lent me her tent, which she actually rode her bicycle to her house to go get for me. and thats pretty much all there is to tell. around salta is lovely, but the city itself is kindof, eh. and with no money ive been doing alot of reading and much needed napping, a bit of hiking and chatting with my fellow argentine campers. tomorrow ill once again be in the company of a branch of the santa cruz crew, but not till i make it through one more uncomfortable night in a bus terminal. man, whatd id do for a crossword.
then, kevin got the flu, so i got the heck out of there and into a hostel in a quieter area of town. and, seeing how its winter down here, my hostel mates were all of 7, 4 of whom were employees. so it made for a nice, querky, family like feeling, plus i got a whole loft to myself, sweet! im not quite sure where those two weeks went, but i think i may have lost them between seeing jessica (the quiet librarian of the group) jump up on a bar and rip off her top to ¨i love rock and roll,¨ fighting with brenden (the reincarnated hemmnigway, but nicer, probably) over countless games of scrabble, taco teusdays at a chipotle copy-cat, run by a ¨buddy¨of andy (the sox fan from boston who also happens to speak italian, portugese, and a bit of spanish which he charmingly blends with english swear words), not to mention countless batches of homemade empanadas. oh and the 2 kids who run the place like to invite all their friends and friends bands over for house parties every so often. so with all that it was rather easy to loose track of things; like time... and my debit card.
yep i was all ready to check out and catch a bus north when, whoopsie daisies... wheres my debit card?? and since the combined iq of the fine people who opperate the phone bank at wells fargo comes somewhere close to that of a choripan (which are delicious as far a sausage sandwiches go, but none too bright), i found myself stuck in buenos aires for a week with no more cash, which meant goodbye hostel and hello nacho.
no, no, im not talking about the deliciously cheesy mexican ourdeurve (? no clue.), but a wonderful new argentine friend who opened up his floor to me in a little artists flat in palermo, hollywood (there is also a palermo, soho. so tacky). and after going on tours of the areas best grafiti murals, drinking beer out of gigantic plastic cups at la bomba del tiempo (the biggest and coolest percussion show ever), ¨helping¨him with the lighting design at a local club (really he just let me push some buttons in time with the music for a while), playing darts in his kitchen, watching a silent movie in the national library, and teaching him the beauty of american delicacies such as home made steak tacos, and chocolate chip cookies, being stuck in buenos aires really wasnt all that bad.
and that brings us to salta. i decided that debit cards are over rated and im not about to let little problems, hiccups rather, like not having any money keep me from traveling. so i bought a bus ticket with my credit card and arrived just in time to not get the last seat on the only bus leaving for san pedro de atacma for the next 4 days. no problem. i showed up at the municipal campsite, tentless, and one of the women there took pity on me and lent me her tent, which she actually rode her bicycle to her house to go get for me. and thats pretty much all there is to tell. around salta is lovely, but the city itself is kindof, eh. and with no money ive been doing alot of reading and much needed napping, a bit of hiking and chatting with my fellow argentine campers. tomorrow ill once again be in the company of a branch of the santa cruz crew, but not till i make it through one more uncomfortable night in a bus terminal. man, whatd id do for a crossword.
