Leaving Mar del Plata, Back to Buenos Aires

For our last meal in Mar del Plata, Maru made a feast of various types of gourmet pizzas. They were made completely from scratch with ingredients that we bought at the store just moments before, and were ridiculously delicious. Though I'm a fan of the pre-pizzas that I buy and cook here in Buenos Aires, these homemade pizzas obviously wiped the floor with them. It was a good and laid back dinner, but before long it was nearly 1 am and we were all pooped, so we decided to just call it a night, rather than forcing bad hangovers for the ride home on Sunday afternoon.

Even with a laid back night, I was exhausted on Sunday, and just moving about the apartment for a few moments was laborious. What made it worse was the sunburn, and extreme third degree burns I got on my feet. It made me feel sick, and I actually got a runny nose, but in general my body just felt like it had been hit by a truck. After the apartment was cleaned up and we were all packed and ready to go, it was time to leave Mar del Plata.

It was a nice and sunny day, already very hot and humid. Imaginably, Buenos Aires would be much hotter. Picking up some more snacks for the road, it was time to start back on Route 2, and back through the empty pampas. There wasn't as much conversation on the trip back north, mostly because we were all pretty exhausted from the weekend, but a car ride has its ways of being enjoyable nonetheless. As I fought fatigue, I looked from left to right soaking up as much of the green space as I could, aware that soon it would all be concrete again.

Somewhere along the road near a town called Maipu, we stopped for about 45 minutes at a little lake hidden off the road. Though it had a sign advertising it, the area seemed forgotten, and only a handful of people were there. Pablo had discovered it the last time he was down in the area, and we walked to the shaky wooden dock, taking some pictures and looking at the dark, motionless water. Only occasional bubbles would pop up from fish down below. The heat had died down as dark gray clouds loomed in the distance, and with some shanty tin buildings, a few picnic tables, and windmills spinning wildly, I again thought back to how the pampas reminded me of my image of the Midwest United States. I could see some movie where the peaceful farm town was about to be rocked by a tornado.

It was so quiet and relaxed, with the gentle breeze blowing from the west. Pablo said the last time he was there it was packed with cars and people, and the water was filled with swimmers. We got lucky and had it nearly to ourselves for almost an hour before getting back on the road towards Buenos Aires. Up through the north of the pampas I noticed that on the side of the road, where one might find McDonald's and diner's in the United States, all you would find here were parillas, or steak houses. McDonald's will generally always be bad (though good), and it's possible to get a so-so diner. But I had to think that every one of those steak houses was great, and what's worse about not trying all of them was not trying any of them. But it was Sunday afternoon and we had snacks, so on to Buenos Aires we kept going.

Reaching the outskirts of the province and city, we passed through many small towns along the way, with the population steadily rising as Buenos Aires grew closer. Finally we came to Banfield, where Pablo and Paola let us out to catch the bus back to the city center. It was a fun weekend and was great to see another part of Argentina, but what made it so worthwhile was that I was able to share the experience with Argentinians, learning cultural things, sharing mate, and speaking in their language. Though I've had some experiences with locals, this was by far the longest of its kind in my time here, and just a few days in the presence of Porteños taught me almost as much as my time winging it alone has in 4 months here. A successful start to the new year, and hopefully with many more good times to come.

Above: The pampas, near Maipu.

Hitting Up the Beach

Mar del Plata is the beach to go to in Argentina, mainly because it's really the only area with a stretch of water that is accessible for swimming and within close proximity to the majority of the population. If the trendier people go to Punta del Este in Uruguay, the regular majority vacation in Mar del Plata. With that being said, it's known for overcrowded beaches, with umbrellas touching each other as people pack in among the windy beaches. Though it's not too warm or cold, Mar del Plata is a varied place in summer.

During the summer the population can swell up to a million, but for the rest of the year it's a near ghost town, relatively speaking. Judging by the cold winds at night in the summer, I can imagine why no one would go in the winter. We woke up late on January 1st and took our time, eating breakfast and drinking mate on the balcony, waiting as the day warmed up after a morning rain. By the time we were ready to go the day had turned pleasant and warm, but not overbearingly hot. With the advantage of a car, we drove farther south, away from the packed beaches where those in the city without cars would wind up. We still had to battle through city traffic, but the difference in the laid back attitude of a beach town was clear, and it was a welcome relief from Buenos Aires.

The architecture of Mar del Plata is pretty interesting, with alpine houses and English Tudor's dotting the hills overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Thousands of beach-goers headed down to the water, and as we continued along the road the crowds tapered off a bit. Picking up some sandwiches for lunch, we got to a stretch of beach that, while had a good amount of people on it, was nothing compared to the beaches back in the city center. By the time we sat down and set up the umbrella, ate and put on sunscreen, the sun became hidden by dark clouds out at sea.

Our first day at the beach was short lived, as the ominous clouds turned to a heavy rain storm that came in quickly and without mercy. As a mass exodus slowly left the beach in double file, we got back to the car and sat soaked in traffic retreating to the city. Hail pounded the car, but within minutes the storm had passed. We killed some time by playing hangman on the car window frost and drinking mate. The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing at the apartment and cleaning up for dinner at the seaport.

Unlike Puerto Madero in Buenos Aires, boats will unload their catches in Mar del Plata and allow people to buy fresh product right there. There's a section packed with restaurants, mostly all you can eat seafood, and we chose one that seemed to have a fair deal. Though it seemed like everything involved calamari in some way, we tried just about everything, and it was all good. I love fried calamari, and was happy with the large plate that I got. We picked up some lemon ice cream to put in champagne after dinner, and called it a night to make the most of our last full day at the beach on Saturday.

Going farther south on Saturday morning, we picked a nice looking beach that eventually swelled to a huge crowd, with umbrellas everywhere, getting me lost on the way back from a walk later in the day. The day was spent relaxing between some Frisbee, a picnic lunch, and trying but failing to learn the card game Truco. With a different deck of cards that have different values, I found this Argentinian game to be very confusing, especially when explained in a different language. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and before long the burn started to kick in, even though I put on sunscreen at least four times.

All told, we were at the beach from about 10:30 am until 7 pm or so, when the wind had picked up and the sun was setting. My feet had been badly burned, among other parts of my body, and were swelling to a pink and purple complexion, despite having spent a large portion of the day under the umbrella. Before going back to the city we took a different path home, through a wooded area with alpine houses, seemingly hidden among the forest. It was totally quiet and peaceful, and I could see that living there would be a peaceful existence.

A quick stop at a local fair reminded us that we were burnt and cold, so we got back on the trail home, to clean up and make dinner for the last night in Mar del Plata.

Above: Maru, Paola, Pablo; drinking mate at the beach; a duck and a shmuck

New Years' Eve in Mar del Plata

After working a half day on Thursday, I headed back out to Banfield with Vero to meet up with her friends Pablo, Paola, and Maru. The plan was simple: Pablo's parents loaned us their car, and his aunt loaned us her apartment in Mar del Plata for the weekend. Though it was already 3:30 pm on December 31st, we took off for the beach town 4.5-6 hours south of Buenos Aires to celebrate New Years' Eve.

There's a special kind of energy in a packed car at the beginning of a road trip, when it feels like nothing can stop you, and whether the wind blows in through the window or the air conditioner is on full blast, you feel fresh and free. No work for 3 days and a holiday to boot. Not too shabby. Already in Buenos Aires Province, we headed south through towns that reminded me more of the Latin America I was familiar with last year, and the farther south we headed the fewer the houses were, shanty as they seemed, and the older the cars got. Eventually we were in nothing but open fields, and all around us we were in the Pampas.

The pampas are what I imagine the Midwest of the United States to be like. Never having been, I have to use movies and pictures as a basis, but down this road in Argentina there was nothing but open space on the left and right, plain and flat as far as the horizon. A sky so wide and open that it felt like you could almost see the curve of the earth. Living in a city, the world is obscured by buildings, and the view is often only as far as the next block, but in the pampas, you have nothing to block your vision, and what you see is what extends for miles and miles beyond that. Other than some cows and a random house or two, there isn't much else going on.

Though I'd met Pablo and Paola a week ago when I went to their house for dinner, it was still like starting over again in terms of conversation. It's always going to be hard to jump into a group of old friends, especially in another language, so at first I sat back and mostly listened. This is also the best way to learn the language. An untold number of words have entered my vocabulary since Thursday, not only because I asked but because I listened. Soon enough the ice was broken and I got into the conversations just the same, though obviously giving space when stories were told that I was unfamiliar with. It's to be expected that you won't understand everything, and continuously asking what something means gets annoying.

The mate was passed around consistently, and I found myself totally comfortable and at ease with the process. Though I asked questions about it, nothing could be as simple as drinking a tea through a straw for a moment. Maybe I feel most immersed when I share mate, and I've gotten to the point where I look forward to drinking it and sharing the experience. Maybe one of the funniest things I've taught anyone since living in Latin America is "Fuggin' brown bears," which really means nothing. It's just a play on words originating from my friend Adam who once said, "Beers, fuckin' brown beers...fuggin' brown bears." "Fuggin' Brown Bears" went on to be my fantasy football team's name for two years.

For some reason, this came up in the trip, and everyone took to it, practicing it and getting it down well. It would keep coming up through the weekend. The hours passed by quickly and by 9:30 pm we were pulling into Mar del Plata, ahead of schedule. After dropping off our things, we picked up some food and drinks, and then had dinner at the apartment. It was a totally different New Years' experience than I'm used to. For years now, I've met up with friends early on, maybe 7 or 8 pm to begin partying and by midnight, it was practically a blur. With deep winter outside, we stayed in a house and went home at 1 or 2 am.

Here, it's a summer holiday and Argentinians don't even go out until after midnight. I found that most people will celebrate with a dinner with friends or family, toast at midnight, and then maybe go out dancing depending on the age group. We celebrated from the balcony listening to fireworks going off all around at midnight, and then joined the crowds heading to the beach. The fireworks, both personal and public, were deafening, and music was blasting loudly in one of the squares where hundreds of kids decked out in white were dancing. Apparently wearing white on New Years' is a tradition in Brazil that has recently made its way into Argentina.

We had another toast at the waters edge, freezing as the wind blew in ferociously. Mar del Plata gets very windy and cold at night, and with a sweater on, I was still freezing. Once we could take it no longer we stopped in the plaza for a bit and then went out to a street filled with bars to dance for a couple of hours before calling it a night. There was no need to rush anything, as we had the whole weekend to relax and go to the beach...

Above: From a plaza in the center of Mar del Plata, post midnight, January 1, 2010