Buenos Aires, Part 3

One of our favorite nights in Buenos Aires was the night we went to see a tango show. The show was quite a bit more impressive than the street tango we saw. The show included the dancing, obviously, but also singing, drums, "toca la guitarra" and crazy clacking ropes. I didn't get the best dancing on video, but this will give you a taste.



Also, this guy was amazing! The video doesn't do him justice.



We also made a visit to the zoo...



...where babies drink Coke out of bottles and you can get so close to the animals that these signs are necessary.


La Recoleta Cemetery was creepy and awesome. Eva Perón is buried there, and if we learned one thing about Argentinians, it's that they love Evita.









A giant flower sculpture that allegedly opens and closes. We didn't see it move, so we took matters into our own hands.

Closed...



And peeling away...



And open...I was lucky, I was the stamen.


And last but not least, the beautiful Japanese gardens. It looks like they've had too much wine and peanuts.


And those are the highlights, people. Normal blogging can now resume.

Oh, and P.S.: One of my favorite things about coming back to the United States, besides being able to use a debit card everywhere and seeing little Marti, was hearing "Welcome Back" from the passport control official.

Buenos Aires, Part 2

So after a warm welcome to BA, we jumped on a bus for a record-breaking 20-hour trip up to Iguazu Falls. We took off in the afternoon for an arrival the next morning at about 9:30 a.m. The seasoned travelers had assured Alan and me that these buses were first class all the way, and they didn't disappoint. While the bathroom could have been a little cleaner, two meals were served, movies were shown, pillows and blankets were available, and the seats almost fully reclined. After a Dramamine, I slept like a baby.

So did the rest of our group.


Alan and I checking out the map of the falls.

The falls are amazing. I can't even describe them, nor should I really try. I'll let you see all of the pictures and videos for yourself.

The falls remind me of the Grand Canyon in that every 10 feet you get a completely different view of the falls.




From here, you could get so close you'd get hit by the mist.



You then take a short boat ride to get over to an island where you get a different view of the falls. Buckle up!


A short train ride and a mile walk get you to Garganta del Diablo, or the Devil's Throat. The walk there...



And the payoff:



Worth 40 hours on a bus, don't ya think?

And the celebratory jump:
Then after our tasty al fresco dinner, we got back on the bus for our return trip. Covert wine ops:


Well done, Adam.

More videos available on YouTube if you didn't get your fill.

Buenos Aires, Part 1

Now that I've sufficiently recovered from vacation—and feel like I'm slacking because Joel has begun posting about his jaunt through South America—I'm ready to get going with trip posts. A little background: After a few margaritas one lonely evening, Alan and I decided that we should go visit Joel, his longtime best bud and what I call his "man-wife." Since Joel has been teaching English in Colombia for several years now, we decided we should pull out the passports and make a visit. With school out for the summer, he was heading out of Colombia and onto saltier Bolivian pastures and was going to be traveling the continent with a couple of friends, so we decided to meet him in Buenos Aires. When we arrived, we joined up with him, Scott (also an old KC friend of Alan's), Scott's new fiancee, Meghan, and Adam, whom we also knew from KU. Turned out to be a great group to travel with, especially great because three of them spoke Spanish. How do you say "very helpful" in Español?

Because we knew we'd be in a group, we didn't plan too much before the trip. But to make good use of our layover in Dallas, Alan pulled out the BA guidebook.

We also called our bank and credit card company from the airport, which turned out to do no good whatsoever, as BANK OF AMERICA shut off our debit account anyway. I'm all for security, except for when you tell them you're going out of the country and they ignore you.

After our 10-hour flight, we arrived in Buenos Aires at 8 a.m., hoping to be met at the airport, but fully expecting to make our way to the hostel on our own. But lo and behold, through the crowd, right in the nick of time, came Joel, our knight in Spanish-speaking armor, and Scott, who had nearly made them both late (allegedly). We headed straight to the hostel that they had gotten the previous day, where we napped, showered and prepared to explore BA. We then hoofed it around the city on our way to buy bus tickets for the next day, and saw the La Casa Rosa, Argentina's White House. But pink.

The gang in front of the Pink House; Joel is the one napping.


One word I learned prior to the trip was "lomo," which is basically a delicious cut of beef. We went out for a great dinner that night, guzzled wine, and tried about 50 different cuts of beef, including sweetbread, before hitting the town. After three bottles of whiskey, one courtesy of an Einstein lookalike, here's the fun that was being had:

Needless to say, Argentina gave us a warm welcome. Next stop, Iguazu Falls. I hope you like pictures of waterfalls.

Back in Estados Unidos!

Hola, amigos! We're back after a fun-filled week in Buenos Aires. We're busy re-bonding with our pug and recovering from travel, but I wanted to check in and give you a brief photo preview of blogs to come. The trip was great. In 10 words, it was Argentine beef, wine, buses, waterfalls, tango, walking, laughter and language barriers. And empanadas. Ok, that's 11.

The largest, cheapest and tastiest kebab ever.


Shopping for wine in a foreign market


First-class buses for 20-hour rides. Meals. Foot rests. Leg support. Fully reclining. No other way to travel.


Iguazu Falls
"Poor little Niagara!"


Beautiful architecture and buildings. Just don't get too distracted lest you step in dog doo. No poo pickup rules in BA.

Best Friends at the Beach

July 6. Beach. Notice the long sleeves, jeans, and general appearance of cold. This is Northern California.


We took Marti to the beach for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It was maybe one of the least relaxing "should be relaxing" type of events. Pugs were allowed, but not off leash, so I had to maintain constance vigilance to make sure Marti didn't jump in the ocean, terrorize small children or eat sand and seaweed. I wasn't able to stop the ingestion of sand. She probably ate a cup of the stuff.

Love. This.

My little words can't do this video justice, so you just have to watch it. It made me smile for four and a half minutes straight.



This four and a half minutes shows how vastly huge the world is. We're all so different. And we're all the same.

Read more about it it at www.wherethehellismatt.com. (It also views more clearly on this site.)

Death Threats from Old People

A woman who lives at the assisted living facility on our street routinely tries to enlist me in plotting her escape. She comes out to the patio and asks me for help, and on a handful of occasions she has tapped on the windows to get my attention. I can read her lips. She wants out.

The other day I was out with Marti, waiting for Alan to join me when “Silvia” started doing slow laps around the patio.

Lap 1
Silvia: “Help me….they’re trying to kill me.”
Me: I’m sure no one’s trying to kill you. Say hi to Marti!

Lap 2
Silvia: “Help me….They’re all crazy.”
Me: Can’t argue with that. Look, Marti’s eating a stick!

Lap 3
Silvia: “Help me…take me home.”
Me: More Marti jabber.

By lap 4, Alan was outside with me and I warned him to be prepared. She asked me to take her home and I told her that I couldn’t do anything to help, and she said, “No, you sure can’t,” almost sarcastically, like I was withholding help to spite her.

Alan was a little nervous, and I’ll admit that being around people with dementia isn’t easy. But as I’m always over there with Marti, I’m more used to it. As we headed back home, I hear, “I hope he kills you.” Now, I could be wrong. Silvia was on the far end of her lap, but seeing as how she had already mentioned people trying to kill her, I’m almost positive I’m not putting words in her mouth.

So, Sherlock Holmes that I am, I finally looked up the facility and confirmed that they cater to those with dementia and Alzheimer’s. It made me feel a little better about the death-murder wish upon me. I just pray that if my mind ever goes, my body quickly follows.