Thursday, January 31, 2008
Mi Ciudad, Mi Corazon
Sunday, January 27, 2008
El Partido Grande
Boca Juniors vs. River Plate is a game that inspires warnings in most Argentina guidebooks. Every couple of years CNN or ESPN shows footage of rabid fans screaming and tearing apart stadiums or brawling with cops, the footnote on the screen usually reads, "Buenos Aires, Argentina." Up there with Celtic vs. Rangers in Scotland and Arsenal vs. Manchester United in England, the Boca - River game is the South American match to see. It´s your typical rival; working class favorite Boca Juniors from the capital´s ghetto port of La Boca against River Plate from the other side of Buenos Aires in the rich neighborhood of Belgrano. Argentines say it´s dangerous and as a Yankee whiteboy walking in a crowd of similar looking blokes speaking english, I was on edge.
As an off-season exhibition, the game was played in Mar del Plata, a very popular beach town six hours south of Buenos Aires. On a Saturday the entire capital empties out and migrates here transforming the light warm sand into a sea of wrigling brown bodies tanning and standing in the waves. On this particular Saturday things were not much different. The beach was teaming with porteños and rumors spread of fighting down the beach, where both Boca and River hooligans had been let off tour busses.
Most people from Buenos Aires support the working class Boca Jrs., who in the late 70s and early 80s were the team of Diego Maradona, one of the sport´s biggest and best names and still a god throughout Argentina today. As we walked into the stadium it was a relief to learn we would be standing on the Boca side. While Boca was favored as usual, the thought of River going ahead was a frightening one. Visions of CNN and ESPN flashed through my mind, rabid Argentines tearing the limbs off a gringo and devouring it raw.
So when the boys in blue put their first goal in the back of the River Plate net, I went as crazy as the rest of the Boca side. Fists went in the air, grown men hugged and the noise was deafening. When Boca scored its second goal, the side went just as crazy, and ten minutes later the River Plate end could be seen behind the opposite goal rioting, causing a giant hole in the crowd left by panicked running civilians. The sea of blue and gold only laughed and chanted louder, taunting their losing enemy with song.
Despite the good mood of the winning side´s fans, when the match ended the army of police opened up only one side of the stadium to let out the River Plate fans first. As a helicopter overhead monitored movement and cops on the ground encouraged the losers to disperce, we waited until the River masses had made it 20 blocks from the stadium and then the police opened up the other side to release us into the Mar del Plata night and walk to our bus.
Even with the 12 hour round trip bus ride and rather cold maritime winds, the game was all it had been cracked up to be. I sang, I jumped, I beat my fist in the air and along with the man next to me I even managed to hollar out puta at a River Plate player once or twice. But most importantly, my side won and I lived to tell the tale.
- AC
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Relaje en Uruguay
So let´s face it, it´s the end of my trip, and I´ve grown a little weary of being a "slave" to the computer (just wait until how I fell when I get an actual job again!) so let´s keep this short and sweet. And if I know most of you, it´s the pictures you´re all more interested in anyway.
Punta del Este, Uruguay, was the most recent spot of our bechside relaxation. The resort boasts soft, warm sand and your choice of either calm waters or surf on two sides of the small peninsula.
We´d been warned both my travel guidebooks and fellow tourists at the St. Tropez-meets-Miami Beach, upscale feel of this uber-wealthy resort town --- and it lived up to its reputation. In my humble opinion, a perfect punctuation to several months of wet, humid air or bitingly cold winds. Our skin, however, is still complaining about the splotchy bits of red our SPF 40 failed to protect.
And now it´s back in Buenos Aires, where we wait with baited breath for our 3 p.m. check-in to the the five-star city hotel, the Pan Americano. We intend to immediately disrobe, and then re-robe, so to speak, in the hotel granted whites before hitting the famous terrace level pool with a famous view of all the downtown action. And we´re milking the place for every penny, so we will not emerge until precisely noon on Tuesday when they kick us out screaming before making our way to the international airport for the long journey home.
It´s been a trip, to say the least, and one that I´m glad we had/made the opportunity for. If you ever find yourself headed to this part of the world, hit us up for our favorites - helado (ice cream), carne empanadas, licuados and pinguinos among just a few.
-JMH
The stone hands that draw not just sunbathing tourists to the beach on the Atlantic side of Punta del Este.
Alex lubes up with that SPF 40 - note that he´s now wearing a hat and t-shirt to further aggravate the ever-darkening pink hue.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Complete Circle
Monday, January 14, 2008
The End of the World
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Iceberg, straight ahead!
Alex catches on the film the glacier as it sheds part of its front face. It sounds like an office building crumbling to the ground. - AC
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Penguins and Guanacos oh my...
Magellanic Penguins at Punta Loma on the Argentine Atlantic coast live in droves under sagebrush. Their unafraid and curious.