January 7, 2007
Gabbie Haenn and Claire Horvath
Our First Sunday in Buenos Aires...
On Sunday we had nothing specific scheduled for our group. Many of us decided to go to the Flea Market at San Telmo, a common place for many Porteños to do on a Sunday (since most other places are closed). We did not go as a big group, but most of the class ended up there at some point in the day.
I went in a group with Josh, Jamin, Lindsay, Harmony, Paul and mysel to the market. First we decided to walk around Florida Street which is the main shopping area near our hotel. It is a very long road that is closed to cars and contains many shops geared toward both tourists and Argentineans. There are places to buy touristy items such as wool and cashmere sweaters, leather, and postcards. Most of the shops we went into had at least one if not more salespersons who spoke english to us.
After we got an idea of the things we might like to buy later on in the trip we found a subway station, called el Subte here, to take us to San Telmo for the market. This was my first time navigating el Subte and I was pleasently surprised at how easy and cheap it was to use. Each stop is listed on an electronic scroll inside the train car so you always know when you need to get off the train.
When we arrived at the station near San Telmo we encountered some interesting trees that all of us stopped to admire and photograph. They are sometimes called los borrachos (the drunks) because their trunks are swollen at the bottom and they bend in such a way that they look like drunks with stomaches full of beer. Our IES guide Sebastian told me earlier in the trip that they explained the origin of fish. The myth goes that all the fish in the world were contained in the trees (which are full of water) and that one day a man cut down a tree and all the fish spilled out onto the Earth.
Back to San Telmo... We finally arrived at the market where the streets were lined with people, vendors, and entertainment. The streets were closed off and then a central square held many stands selling antiques. Art, food, and clothes were also being sold.
After wandering around for a bit we all decided to get some food. We found a small store that sold only pizza, tortas, and empanadas. We ordered empanadas that were muy ricos (very tasty). These empanadas were of cheese and onion, beef, or chicken. We walked back to el subte while stuffing our faces.
When we arrived back at the hotel everyone went their own ways. Some people wrote emails, others rested, and others wrote in their journals. Josh and I decided to go for a 30 minute run. Our 30 minute run turned into about an hour of twisting and turning through the streets of el micro centro, the area around our hotel. On our run there were three significant things we learned about the city: 1. Men have no shame about looking at women when they pass and are often rude about it (by my American standard). 2. Josh’s red/orange hair attracted the most attention of all. (Two people called out to him about it). 3. If you go running in a city that you do not know well you should always run in a circle… or leave some breadcrumbs.
When we finally returned to the hotel, sufficiently tired and sweaty from the humidity, we had to go straight upstairs to get ready for dinner at a nice restaurant called El Marisol (the sunflower). We had planned on going to another restaurant at first that some of our group had passed earlier that day, but were unable to find it again. El Marisol was suggested, and we put in our reservations. There were a number of us, about 15 or so, and we had a 45 minute wait before a table could be ready. We walked about 5 blocks over to a common park to pass the time. Another useful fact about Argentina: parks are the place to go with your significant other if you want… well, not exactly privacy, but there is apparently an unspoken rule that you steer clear of shadowy forms on the grass at night.
We arrived at the park, found that it was nearly time for our reservations to be up, and hiked back to the restaurant. Since we had been planning on going someplace different to begin with, some of us were a little underdressed--the place was pretty classy. The staff ushered upstairs to the higher level, which consisted of a table of about 6 elderly people, and us--the hoard of loud American teenagers.
We found out pretty quickly that the food was going to be expensive, but it looked quite delicious as well. Some of us shared meals, while others decided to indulge and go all out. The food WAS delicious, but…the experience itself was kind of odd. For example, there were at least two waiters hovering around our massive table the entire time, and we stayed for at least an hour and a half. From what we could see, none of the other tables got this kind of attention, though the only other group there with us left within a half hour, leaving us to (basically) our own devices. The staff was quite attentive, which was… nice, though it worked against our plans of not spending oodles of money. The second someone emptied their water glass, they would instantly come over and refill our glasses for us, opening bottle upon bottle of water- not looking so good for our bill. They also cut up some of our food for us, a service that was not really necessary, but was a good depiction of what kind of service they were giving us, or perhaps the size of the tip they were expecting. This seems to be a common trend in Argentina- once the restaurant finds out that we are American, theyll either treat you practically like royalty, or give you the worst service of your life. Fortunately this was the former kind, and a delicious meal was had by nearly all who went.
Funny quote of the evening:
Gabbie: “Paul, Im giving you tango eyes. Theyre coming from my chicken.”
Our First Sunday in Buenos Aires...
On Sunday we had nothing specific scheduled for our group. Many of us decided to go to the Flea Market at San Telmo, a common place for many Porteños to do on a Sunday (since most other places are closed). We did not go as a big group, but most of the class ended up there at some point in the day.
I went in a group with Josh, Jamin, Lindsay, Harmony, Paul and mysel to the market. First we decided to walk around Florida Street which is the main shopping area near our hotel. It is a very long road that is closed to cars and contains many shops geared toward both tourists and Argentineans. There are places to buy touristy items such as wool and cashmere sweaters, leather, and postcards. Most of the shops we went into had at least one if not more salespersons who spoke english to us.
After we got an idea of the things we might like to buy later on in the trip we found a subway station, called el Subte here, to take us to San Telmo for the market. This was my first time navigating el Subte and I was pleasently surprised at how easy and cheap it was to use. Each stop is listed on an electronic scroll inside the train car so you always know when you need to get off the train.
When we arrived at the station near San Telmo we encountered some interesting trees that all of us stopped to admire and photograph. They are sometimes called los borrachos (the drunks) because their trunks are swollen at the bottom and they bend in such a way that they look like drunks with stomaches full of beer. Our IES guide Sebastian told me earlier in the trip that they explained the origin of fish. The myth goes that all the fish in the world were contained in the trees (which are full of water) and that one day a man cut down a tree and all the fish spilled out onto the Earth.
Back to San Telmo... We finally arrived at the market where the streets were lined with people, vendors, and entertainment. The streets were closed off and then a central square held many stands selling antiques. Art, food, and clothes were also being sold.
After wandering around for a bit we all decided to get some food. We found a small store that sold only pizza, tortas, and empanadas. We ordered empanadas that were muy ricos (very tasty). These empanadas were of cheese and onion, beef, or chicken. We walked back to el subte while stuffing our faces.
When we arrived back at the hotel everyone went their own ways. Some people wrote emails, others rested, and others wrote in their journals. Josh and I decided to go for a 30 minute run. Our 30 minute run turned into about an hour of twisting and turning through the streets of el micro centro, the area around our hotel. On our run there were three significant things we learned about the city: 1. Men have no shame about looking at women when they pass and are often rude about it (by my American standard). 2. Josh’s red/orange hair attracted the most attention of all. (Two people called out to him about it). 3. If you go running in a city that you do not know well you should always run in a circle… or leave some breadcrumbs.
When we finally returned to the hotel, sufficiently tired and sweaty from the humidity, we had to go straight upstairs to get ready for dinner at a nice restaurant called El Marisol (the sunflower). We had planned on going to another restaurant at first that some of our group had passed earlier that day, but were unable to find it again. El Marisol was suggested, and we put in our reservations. There were a number of us, about 15 or so, and we had a 45 minute wait before a table could be ready. We walked about 5 blocks over to a common park to pass the time. Another useful fact about Argentina: parks are the place to go with your significant other if you want… well, not exactly privacy, but there is apparently an unspoken rule that you steer clear of shadowy forms on the grass at night.
We arrived at the park, found that it was nearly time for our reservations to be up, and hiked back to the restaurant. Since we had been planning on going someplace different to begin with, some of us were a little underdressed--the place was pretty classy. The staff ushered upstairs to the higher level, which consisted of a table of about 6 elderly people, and us--the hoard of loud American teenagers.
We found out pretty quickly that the food was going to be expensive, but it looked quite delicious as well. Some of us shared meals, while others decided to indulge and go all out. The food WAS delicious, but…the experience itself was kind of odd. For example, there were at least two waiters hovering around our massive table the entire time, and we stayed for at least an hour and a half. From what we could see, none of the other tables got this kind of attention, though the only other group there with us left within a half hour, leaving us to (basically) our own devices. The staff was quite attentive, which was… nice, though it worked against our plans of not spending oodles of money. The second someone emptied their water glass, they would instantly come over and refill our glasses for us, opening bottle upon bottle of water- not looking so good for our bill. They also cut up some of our food for us, a service that was not really necessary, but was a good depiction of what kind of service they were giving us, or perhaps the size of the tip they were expecting. This seems to be a common trend in Argentina- once the restaurant finds out that we are American, theyll either treat you practically like royalty, or give you the worst service of your life. Fortunately this was the former kind, and a delicious meal was had by nearly all who went.
Funny quote of the evening:
Gabbie: “Paul, Im giving you tango eyes. Theyre coming from my chicken.”
posted by Sandra Jamieson @ 5:13 PM
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