Futbol, Argentina!

What a day, what a place!

I am in an indescribable (but I´m working on it!) town called Salta, in Northern Argentina. Today, as you may not know if you are not in Argentina, is THE MATCH, between Ar. and Germany. Everything is blue and white and the noisemarkers have been blowing since yesterday, when we arrived. It is cold but I am braving sandles for the first time, as it has to happen sometime. I have taken about 30 pictures here this mornig, in the hope that if I look at them long enough I will come up with the right description. In the meantime, I do details (my favourite):
The token sentence I am using is: Salta (which means beautiful view) is like a carnival, with a handful of really incredibly beautiful old buildings scattered throughout it. Think Clifton Hill in the face of Niagra Falls, Las Vegas in the middle of its stunning surroundings- but here everything is man made.

I mentioned the candy in B.A, but here it is something different entirely, candy floss, popcorn and ¨"chocolata, uno peso!" is everywhere. Young people and old are sitting around the street, drinking milky coffee and talking.

All the stores close at 1, though it is awfully cold for what one thinks of as siesta. Usually they reopen again at 5 until 9, but today everything in town is shut because we will all be in front of the TV watching the match. Most of the "oppotional activities" were cancelled because no one wants to work. I wonder if they will drink more if they win, or if they lose?

Did I mention the giant pink cathedral at the centre of town? The disporportionate number of stray dogs roaming around (one followed me for over an hour, though I had no food with me)?

Tomorrow we will take the "railway to the clouds", which is actually a bus running along the train tracks (the real train has not run in a year, and I shudder to think what prompted its closure!).
It´s not really that late is it? Must run. Will try to write again soon.

N.

Buenos Aires

Really wanting to write something coherent, but that's not where my mind is today.

Forgive me.

Met the group yesterday, only six of us, and all girls (darn), as Brent --the leader-- said "For me!". Who knew you could work that much punctuation into one sentence. I'm trying to deceide what "supr" means... seems to be delete!

My roommate is the oldest among us (probably mid-thirties) and the only one who is not blond or leaning in that direction. She was originally born in Colombia, but now lives in "The French part of Switzerland". She is so nice it is hard to believe, and puts the other skinny shock-blond girls to shame, though the locals do not seem to agree.

These others are: a pair from England and two from Denmark. The English girls seem to be on a continous adreneline rush, and talk a great deal, but I like them too.

The weather is perfect for me, cold and crisp and sunny. I spent all yesterday just walking around. I couldn't tell you where I walked, or what I saw, but I enjoyed it a great deal-- and am doing the same today.

It's funny the radar people have for tourists. I walk, carrying a regular sized bag, not opening my mouth, looking lost, or doing anything spectacularily stupid, and still people stare at me like I'm a lost puppy. I don't mind, I juist find it puzzling.

People here love sweet things, especially chocolate. Every little store has huge displays of candy out front, and McDonald's (renounded for worming its way into local consciousness) has about six chocolate desserts on the menu (don't worry, I wasn't actually eating there, I was just curious).

I went into a large church today, stuck in the middle of a business district, splendid and leaning precariously to the left. There was no one in it and I wonder who had built it. Imagine, a building without a blue information sign. Not that I could read them, of course, they're all in Spanish.

I walked through what seemed to be a protest in the Plaza of Justice (even I could translate that sign!). Lots of people wearing hardhats, eating mini-baguettes, which seem to be the food of choice here.

The streets have an interesting smell (don't they all?). Woodsmoke, and the penetrating scent of a carnival, which I think is from another sweet treat, roast nuts in some sort of glaze, possibly honey, or caramel, being prepared on every other corner.

There are a lot of police around. They don't seem to be doing anything, just around.
I have yet to figure out the system to crossing the roads. Each city I have been to has it's on system, and it is important to learn it quickly (less you die in some stupid preventable mess). Sometimes there are no street lights, or the street lights are for cars only, or for both cars and pedestrians, or just no one pays attention to them anyway. In Vietnam you are supposed to look straight ahead and let people work around you. In China you run. The best approach is always to hide behind/beside a local and do exactly what they do. Here it is more complicated. The traffic seems to go in waves, and by the time you realize a wave is moving they are already across and you are in the middle of the street by yourself with somebody honking at you. I will get it, no doubt, just in time to leave.

I am leaving the city of good winds tomorrow, and flying to Salta, in the North of Argentina. I can't remember what it is I am to do there (talk about living one day at a time!), but will write when I get there. I like the internet when I am away. It reminds me the rest of the world is still out there. Be well.

N.

What Latin American Country Should You Visit?

You Should Visit Peru

Peru is ideal for your "off the beaten path" traveling style. Head out to an ancient Incan city, visit a volcano, and don't forget to pet a llama.

Dis-Oriented (Worked better in Asia!)

Not only am I "next viewing this page" in Argentina, but everything is loading in Spanish. As is Gmail. Funny how disorienting it is to see something so second-nature in a different language.

The other exciting thing about this computer (free internet at Posta del Barto Hostel) is that all the punctuation keys are in different places. For example, every time I go to type a question mark (and you know, there are a lot of question marks in my life) I end up with _ instead. *JUST SO YOU KNOW, I have given up correcting it, to prove my point.*

I wish I could post a picture of my outfit right now, it is about six layers and a hundred different colours. You don't expect South America to be cold, but then this is winter for them. It is about the temperature of late October--early November in Stratford, when people first start talking about snow.

The [journey[ was much as usual. The taxi )to the runway) in Toronto took so long I was sure we were driving to Argentina. We got in to Atlanta late, because there was bad weather and we were directed into a holding area )holding area in the sky_). Then the plane for Buenos Aires didn{t leave til an hour late, as the cleaning crew was behind, which seemed to have the crew slightly confused.

I think my least favourite part about air travel, arriving in a new place, is coming through the arrival gates and vanishing into this forest of names and signs and bored-looking lackeys. Sometimes I hate this because suddenly I wish there was someone there to meet me, and the times there is it{s frustrating because it always takes me forever to find the person, and because everyone is facing the same direction, if you don{t see it the first time you just have to go around and ask everyone if they{re waiting for you. My favourite was today there were two older men standing by the coffee shope looking annoyed, holding their signs flat against their legs so you couldn{t even read them. Like most travel stories it seems funny now, but at the time, )especially after a long flight) it{s enough to reduce one to tears )it didn{t, but it could!).

I made it to the hostel )I had my own adventure, but not the most interesting one¿ wow, i{m ranking adventures now¿ and woke up the other girl in my room )actually there are six, but only one was around at the time) and broke two nails trying to get my lock open. Who was it that said travel is only glamourous in retrospect_ It{s so true. That{s why I always find myself embarassed when people say [You{re so brave to have done this,] or some equivalant, and I just laugh and think {If you had seen half the stupid messes I{d gotten myself into...] but that{s what it{s all about right_

I went for a walk, thinking [I{ll just walk one street over, and one street up...] which of course is hopeless, because I go wherever something catches my eye, regardless of what course I have plotted. Really how I have made it this far is beyond me. But I have, so no sense worrying about it now. I had better go now, the people cheering the football game on TV are creeping me out )mostly because I can{t figure out which side they{re cheering for!).

Not sure when I{ll get on next )sometime in the next few days no doubt), but let us hope next time I{ll find a computer more compatable with my Canadian sensibilities. Don{t worry, I{ll have forgotten them by tomorrow.

Cheers!

N.

June 24

The next time I see this page I will be in Argentina. Isn't that weird?

*Dave, I'm thinking of you tonight.
I will never forget you.
Where are you reading from?*

I will go now and not-sleep. Travel is a wonderful thing.

N.

Walking Home (A Poem)

Walking Home (June 6, 2006)

Stepping
off the path
suddenly, I see
myself, closer to
an ant than a mountain
something less than the
going rate for ambivilance, still
I walk with purpose, just in case it is
my stride, my pride, the structure of my spine
designed to hold heaven high, in its place,
and me in mine, like the wind, which
is everywhere and nowhere, not
deaf but blind to the scope
of symmetry you whisper to
the shuddering grass,
struggling with
the weight
of the sky.

N.

Share

"I am in the backseat of my parents' car."

We are driving. It is very bright, but the sky is only half-heartedly blue.

I think: I Love this Land.

However far I go
--and I do go far--
This is the landscape of my heart.

My parents are talking --

We pass a police car at the side of the road.

--I don't hear their words, just drift along the pulse of their voices:

RISE and fall, RISE and fall. Like the slither of life

on a heart monitor, on a bad TV show.

Or a good one.

I am thinking about poetry. What-

I think is not important.

The speed limit is now 80:

we slow down, and

the car behind us, does not.

Thin and distant as a margin,

I think "these trees could be

a mirage," but for the wind

moving through them--

intimately, like my hair

inside, outside, and between the bristles of a brush-- some of which catches,

exhales, and is no longer a part of me.

*

Incidentally the highways pictured here are not the ones I was driving on.

If that's not symbolism I don't know what is.

*

On sunday I will go away. This is not real to me.

All that is real is this day, the sky, a stretch of highway so familiar i could find my way home in a dream. Good.

I could not do it awake.

Home...

A song stuck in my head. But the tune keeps changing, and I've forgotten the words.

Maybe there are no words for the "things" that burrow closest to the heart.

All we can do is send out little sparks of thought and hope a little light may fall on the truth. Though I'm not at all sure I would recognize the truth if I saw it. Or that I'd want to.

I read somewhere that all the energy in existance is here already, and will never leave. So-

even when you die, some part of you stays alive.

I like this idea.

Of course if it can seperate itself and live on without you, it couldn't have been yours to begin with.

This is like "culture": in anthropology they tell you (me?) that culture cannot be owned, therefore cannot be stolen. This was not on the exam, but i remember it anyway.

Anthropology, which i have taken to calling anth., in my notes at least, gives one the disconcerting feeling that nothing really belongs to you. This might not be a bad thing.

What is the purpose of "owning" after all? Life would be much easier as a continual form of lease -though you might say it was that already.

I won't say the best things in life are free. But the best things in life cannot be owned, or coveted. You can't own air, or time, or the sky.

The sky --half-heartedly blue, as it is-- is the same here as in Argentina, where very soon I will look up at it and love its distance, and its closeness.

Everything is shared.

*

Even energy.

*

N.

Current Currency

1.00 (CAD) Canada Dollars = 7.12451 (BOB) Bolivia Bolivianos


1.00 (CAD) Canada Dollars = 2.74309 (ARS) Argentina Pesos


1.00 (CAD) Canada Dollars = 2.91185 (PEN) Peru Nuevos Soles

Clouds

For days
when
HEART
as well as head
Wait
in the clouds.

N.

Mental Space

"Freedom is just chaos, with better lighting." Alan Dean Foster

"Kindness causes us to learn, and to forget, many things." Madame Swetchine

"It is hard enough to remember my opinions, without also remembering my reasons for them!" Nietzsche

"Actions lie louder than words." Unknown

"Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted, but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known." Garrison Keiller

"I've wrestled with reality for 35 years Doctor, and I'm happy to state I've finally won over it." Harvey

Acid

Your Personality Is Like Acid

A bit wacky, you're very difficult to predict.One moment you're in your own little happy universe...And the next, you're on a bad trip to your own personal hell!

The Beginning

He Enters, Stands Alone, Breathes Deep. He is aware of our eyes. He is aware of his own pulse. He wears a cheap suit.

Young Man: I guess there's not an easy way to say this... so I won't.
Not yet.

But this is just the beginning.

For You

For You I Shall Offer (By: Kim Fahner)

Some ancient Irish proverb,
paraphrased by a modern
who lived in Waterford,
rang in my head:

I shall offer
one beat of my heart
(each day)
for your happiness.

One breath,
one heartbeat,
each day,
for the sake of
some other one
who is not yet
a part of me.