La Boca Tango

Cusco, Peru Day 1

I’ve arrived in Cusco and my first day in Peru. So far, no altitude sickness. I’m grateful for that since, from the last several days, I already feel like I’m in an altered state of consciousness.

I touched down, checked into my hostel, and immediately went to the Western Union office, where cash was waiting for me. I am now ok on the cash front. No word yet from my bank on my claim.

My first impressions of Cusco are good. As the flight landed, I got a view of the countryside, which is stunning. Jagged mountains, the countryside dappled like a quilt made in earth tones, th town made up of red clay colored roofs and nestles in a pocket created by the mountains. And once in town, the feeling is relaxed, mellow, and easy. The squares and are pretty with brightly colored flowers and green stretches of grass. The people colorful dressed in either traditional garb, like you see in this picture, or in modern clothing. The buildings are quaint or impressive, made out of stone and stucco.

I still can’t eat. It’s been two and a half days and I’ve had water and two cups of juice that I was served on the airplane. The thought of food makes my stomach churn sickeningly. I hope for a full and uninterrupted night’s sleep tonight.

The hotel bar is blasting techno and the Israelis and Australians are already drunk and loud and it's only 7:30pm. I hope the sound doesn’t carry to my room.

All I want is to curl up in a ball underneath some warm covers and read my book. I guess these last several days have really left me feeling pretty raw. It’s all still resonating in my head and body. It’s like I’m looking over my shoulder every second, wondering who is going to hit me with the next big earthshaking surprise.

I’ve emailed a guide to see if/when I can catch a trek up to Machu Picchu. We’ll see what I hear back.

Buenos Aires Days 7 and 8

Day 7

My brain was full from seeing so much in the last many days, so I spent the day visiting the Jardin Bottanico Carlos and the Jardin Japones, both in the Palermo district of the city.

I walked peacefully among the trees and plants and sculptures of nymphs and cavorting cherubim, all the while listening to the throng of traffic as it ceaselessly pummeled the pavement just outside the gates. The Japanese Garden was particularly hilarious. While being Zen in design, a circular saw whined relentlessly somewhere in the background, oftentimes joined by the thunderous cacophony of low flying 747s taking off or landing at the nearby international airport.

In the evening, I received some personal news that sent me into a spiral. I began to consider cutting my trip short to come home. I slept for maybe an hour, fitfully, and had a long call home at four in the morning to my best friend, seeking grounding and counsel.

Day 8

I woke up from my hour of sleep and logged in to my bank account to check my balance. Both my checking and my savings account had been completely drained.

I wondered how things could get any worse.

Apparently some thief in Brazil skimmed my card and has been withdrawing money from my account for the past month. And when my checking account hit zero he or she then drained my savings account. In personal crisis, I find that I am now also penniless -- my accounts have been taken to the tune of $2700. I spend the day in a haze trying to use the on-again-off-again skype connection to have multiple, repetitive, frusrating conversations with my bank to resolve the issue. I filed a claim for all the stolen charges, and since I’m traveling, I can’t close my accounts or receive a new card. So, at this point, if and when I get reimbursed for the stolen funds, I have to call my bank each and every time I need to make an ATM withdrawal.

I tried, without success, to get in touch with people at home with funds who could help me. And finally, toward the latter part of the afternoon, got a response and arranged to have my Skype account refilled (I was unable to do that without any money in my back account) so I could have access to a phone as well as have cash sent to me via Western Union to be picked up tomorrow in Cusco, Peru.

This experience has reminded me yet again that we are not islands and depend on each other to make it through the difficulties of life, as well as celebrate the joys it brings us.

The level of vulnerability I feel is epic, and I am so alone and isolated. The sheer discomfort of it has stolen my appetite. No food today, I can’t eat as the thought of it makes my head spin and my stomach seize up and twist inside out.

This is travel – the good and the bad. Sadly, it seems, when it gets to this level of bad, the problems are so much, much more difficult to solve and the aloneness so much, much more deep.

So I leave B.A. with a bitter taste in my mouth.

I have many more stories to tell about Buenos Aires, and maybe, at some point I will. Now, I just want to put it behind me.

Buenos Aires Days 5 and 6

Day 5

I went to La Boca’ Caminito area, famous for its blue-collar roughness and locals-only attitude. Ironically, this attitude has created quite the tourist attraction, and the residents and shop keepers eat it up like dog food. To be honest, I didn’t like La Boca at all. It was the most flagrantly touristy area I’ve been in in Argentina. Street hawkers aggressively tugging at your shirt trying to get you to sit down at their restaurant because if you do, they get a commission. Cheap souvenir shops everywhere selling tacky junk. The only thing I liked about it (and I liked it a lot) were all the tango dancers. They performed on the street and at every cafe. I loved watching them, but of course as soon as I would stop to look, a hawker would come up and grab me by the arm and start leading me to a table. So, I took some pictures of the colorful buildings and headed out to the Sunday San Telmo street market. This has to be the largest street market in B.A. It’s massive, covering so many city blocks, I lost count. Booths filled with antique jewelry, pins, books, and silverware, handicrafts, plus t-shirts, CDs, DVDs, and other gifty items. I walked and walked, watching the street performers dancing the tango, puppeteering, or playing in street bands (the best tango couple were slick and well-heeled and about 75 years old, and a woman, likely 80, played a contraption of various drums and whistles… most excellent).

Day 6

I visited MALBA, the other major modern art museum in Buenos Aires. It was a good collection, though not as extensive as the Museo Nacional de Belles Artes. I paid a whopping 22 pesos (about US$7) to enter. A deal by anyone’s standards.

Afterwards, I caught a cab to spend the afternoon in Palermo to sit on the square and sip a beverage while reading and writing. The cab driver stopped and I handed him a 100 peso note that I had extracted from the bank machine the night before. I turned to get into my bag to get my map and when I looked up, the cab driver was yelling at me saying in Spanish that the note I just gave him was counterfeit! I told him I had no other money (which I didn’t) and he began to scream at me and wave his fist in my face. All I could say was that it wasn’t possible that it was fake because I had taken it from a bank. He then screamed that he would take me to the police and I replied, “OK, yes, let’s go!” to which he stepped on the gas, then screeched to a halt then just about struck me in the face. He then pushed me out of his cab into the street.

I was terribly shaken and frightened and it pretty much ruined the rest of my day in Palermo. I don’t do well with screaming confrontation and do even worse with threats of physical violence. And being a woman alone in a foreign city, my vulnerability was heightened as was my reaction to the whole situation.

So here’s the story I found out later. Taxi drivers in B.A. are apparently very crooked and this con – switching out a 100 peso note for a fake note, is commonplace. Sigh. In fact, that evening after I got back to the hostel, I found out that within the last 24 hours, myself and three other people were ripped off. Me and another woman were scammed for $100 pesos each and the two other people had their bags, including their passports, stolen. I think B.A. is not a tourist-friendly destination?

After attempting to have a nice day in Palermo, I tried to go to a bank machine to extract some cash and my card was denied. I had almost no money to get a taxi back to the hostel and no clue about the public transportation system. It was a bad day. Fortunately, I happened to bump into a girl who spoke English and was living in B.A. for a study program. She was so great and helped me find my way to the subway (she was even nice enough to walk me there) and instructed me how to get back to my hostel. Sometimes, you have to rely on the help of strangers. All I have to say about it is, I feel so lucky to have found her. She saved my skin.

Before I hopped on the subway, I stopped at Locutorio (a shop that has internet access and phone booths) and I contacted my bank, who said that my account balance was too low for me to take cash out. I thought that was odd since I thought I had significantly more than zero in there, but I thought, “Well, maybe I’m burning through my money faster than I think?” I transferred most of the rest of my savings set aside for this trip into my checking account. This experience should have been a red flag but I brushed it off.

Buenos Aires Days 3 and 4

Day 3

Good Friday. Everything is closed except… the Cemeterio de la Recoleta. This cemetery, located in a very upscale section of the city (which actually reminds me of the Upper east side of NYC), peacefully rests all the diplomats, politicians, movie stars, high-ranking military officials, heroes, and other luminaries of Argentina. For instance, this is where Evita Peron is interred. The monuments are, well, monumental. Large marble sarcophagi, side by side and wall to wall in small streets or alleys. Looking into them, many have altars and large crucifixes, and stacks of coffins with lace draping. Then there are those that are crumbling and no longer kept well. On one, the wall was falling apart, exposing a casket, which itself was falling apart. I was afraid a skeleton would be visible, but fortunately it hadn’t decayed to that extent, yet. The monuments here are incredible and run the gamut from traditional, old-world, traditional design to the ultra modern. I spent the afternoon taking pictures until my camera battery ran out.

I went to another closed-door wine tasting event in the evening. Anuva Wines was started by an American who had come to BB.A. for a tour of Argentinean wineries, but met his future wife at his first tasting and soon after, married her and became an expat. His wine business has taken off and he seems to be doing quite well.

The tasting was okay. Sadly, I fear that standard wine tastings like this might not suit me as mush as they used to. I found the tasting rushed because people kept downing their wine for their refills without really deconstructing all the characteristics of the wine and without savoring them. Which is what I just kind of do now. A friend who is a sommelier told me, “You’ve now passed into only being able to tolerate industry tastings.” I hope not. The last thing in the world I want to do is become one of those wine snobs. Egh.

Day 4

A visit to the Museo Nacional de Belles Arts, one of B.A.’s top two modern art museums. The collection was HUGE. I love art and I can spend a long time perusing museums, but this collection was so big and massive that I was actually wondering if I’d have to leave and come back another day to complete the tour. I did make it all the way through in one shot, however. And I had a perfect moment during my visit. I rounded a corner to be suprised by the beauty and quiet majesty of a Rothko (my favorite artist). I almost jumped and then stood, still and silent, for 15 minutes just drinking in the ultimate infiniteness of the piece. If you’re ever in B.A. I highly recommend this museum. And it was free?? Yes, seeing that massive collection was free. Art should be available to everyone, not just those who can pay, so the fact that it was by donation only was a great thing.

After the museum, I walked through the street market by the Cemeterio de la Recoleta then again spent the rest of the day within the cemetary, looking at the sarcophagi and taking copious amounts of pictures. I think, all told, I took about 300 pictures within the cemetery. The subject matter was so interesting.

In the park next to the cemetery, people lounged in the grass, hippies played in their drum circles, people bought steaming foods from street vendors or sat sipping espressos in upscale cafés surrounding the park, and people just generally enjoyed being alive on such a beautiful day.

Buenos Aires Days 1 and 2

Day 1

I arrived in Buenos Aires (B.A.) and checked into my hostel. I took a long walk down one of the major pedestrian shopping streets and found a place called “California Burrito Company.” How could I pass that up? Sadly, it was nothing at all like a California-style burrito.

Buenos Aires feels like a big city so it feels familiar in ways to me. Lots of people husting and busting around. Lots of well-lit stores. Lots of restaurants. Cars and traffic. Diesel exhaust and honking horns. It massive and a little overwhelming. The architecture is interesting – lots of French influence, which is interesting because the people here seem to be very much Italiophiles.

Day 2

I took myself on a walking tour of the sights in downtown B.A. I saw the Congressional Building, Casa Rosada, Cathedral Metroplitana with the grave monument of General Jose de San Martin – all of which are distinctly French and Italian baroque. The Casa Rosada is where Evita Peron made her famous speech – you know, the one with the big microphones, her hand raised high in the air and her mouth open as she passionately speaks to the crowd and inspires her people. Mostly, the Casa Rosada (so named because it’s literally pink, the tint made from the blood of cows) is a museum showcasing modern Argentinean artists and their works dedicated to portraying Argentinean life and culture. The Catedral was epic, as they all seem to be here in Argentina. Massive and filled with religious art, numerous ornate altars, statues, icons, murals, and so forth. The monument to General San Martin was grave and impressive. Two ornately uniformed guards stood at the entrance to the monument within the cathedral to guard it, from what, I’m not sure. Maybe they were simply there to create ambiance?

I also took a nice long walk down to the Museo Fortobat, a small modern art museum showcasing the collection of the family Fortobat, an old money, influential family in Argentina. Portraits of the family graced the walls along with pieces from Warhol and Argentinean modern artists. It was a small collection, but well chosen and the museum itself was a very nice piece of modern architecture.

I walked home via Florida Street, THE pedestrian-only shopping street in B.A. Despite the upcoming Easter holiday, it was crammed with shoppers, and we all shuffled along in tandem to make our way up the long avenida.

Buenos Aires is definitely a walking-friendly city. There is so much to see along every street. I’m certain I walked at least five or six miles a day. My dogs were barking at the end of pretty much every day.

I went to a “closed door” restaurant tonight, which basically means it has no “storefront” but may be in a hidden restaurant or in someone’s home. In this case, Casa Coupage was simply a nondescript door on a nondescript street in Palermo Soho, a very hip part of B.A. It’s run by two Argentinean Sommeliers who offered me a seven course meal and an accompanying seven course wine pairing. Unfortunately, I was counting on small samples of wine with the courses, since of course, how could you think of drinking seven glasses of wine by yourself? Apparently not so, even though I didn’t finish several glasses of wine, I think the ones I did drink were being refilled when I turned my back. The evening ended up in a haze and with me pouring into the taxi and later realizing that I had grossly undertipped my servers and left my sweater at the restaurant. Despite my intention and understanding that I would have a sophisticated dining and wine tasting experience, I ended up feeling like I might have made an ass of myself. I went back several days later to retrieve my sweater and drop off the remainder of the tip. Fortunately, my server was there and she seemed neither angry nor embarrassed on my behalf in the least. That tells me I likely held it together despite my less than completely sober state and didn’t do anything too ridiculous. I know that the wine and the meal were excellent, at least what I remember of them.

Update

I know I need to update my blog with my travels in Buenos Aires.  But suffice it to say, I’m glad to leave it.

I had a taxi driver steal $100 pesos from me and hand me back a counterfeit $100 peso note, then accused me of passing him a counterfeit note.  He almost struck me and then pushed me out of his cab onto the street.  I found out later that, apparently, this is a common con by taxi drivers in Buenos Aires.

Also, someone broke into my checking and savings accounts and drained them both dry.  At the end of the day, the thief has stolen $2700 from my accounts.  As you can imagine, this has been a complete and total nightmare – trying to handle the claim with the bank from a foreign country on a phone line that is unstable, wondering how I can get money so I can make it to my next destination, being unable to close my account or get a new debit card, the process I’ll have to go through to get money to continue my travels. 

And this has all come on the heels of some larger personal issues that have knocked me sideways that may necessitate me abandoning my travels early to go home.

I sit now in the Lima airport, awaiting my flight to Cusco.  I’ll know soon from my travel agency what my options are to fly home early and I pick up money from Western Union as soon as I arrive in Cusco.

Please send prayers and thoughts my way as I deal with this very difficult situation.