Back from Iguazu

Yesterday when I got back there were more protests, and Cristina set up some sort of response at Plaza de Mayo. Once I showered I met up with Annemarie downtown to see all the hoopla, but we didn’t stick around for the speech.

comparing Cristina to Evita

pro-Cristina signs hung up by the government

the penguin is symbolic of Cristina and her husband; they're from Patagonia

guards were out 2 hours early (so were the choripan vendors)

Then we took the subte to Palermo to check out Prana Cocinca Vegetariana, the top-ranked “natural” restaurant in Guia Oleo. We both ordered guiso de lentaje, which was like a lentil stew, perfect for a cold day like yesterday, and Chai tea. On the way there we saw lots of graffiti:

Elton John on Godoy Cruz

Cloud Monsters

Green Car Spaghetti Hair

When I was in Iguazu I met a family from Berkeley, California who took six months off so the kids could learn Spanish. The girl was between 5th and 6th grades. When she returns to California in the fall she’ll do 6th grade again. As her mother said, “It’s what she missed that’s important.” That seemed like such a negative way to put it, although I understand you build off of math concepts. I told the daughter I thought what she was learning here was invaluable.

And there was a 6-month-old baby at my hostel. His name is Oscar and he’s been traveling with his parents for the past three months. They hope to broaden his horizons. Can you imagine buying a passport for your 3-month-old? And doesn’t it take like a month to process it all? When did they book it – in utero? And will it last ten years? That’s one photo ID that will get a lot of second looks over the next ten years… Oh, and I forgot to mention earlier that before catching El Practico to the bus station in Iguazu, I walked down a dirt trail to La Casa de las Botellas: El Unico del Mundo.
It’s probably best not to throw stones if you live in a house entirely made of glass bottles. I didn’t tour it, because I only had seven minutes before catching the 12:30 bus. But I did take a picture of it. And of another house I passed along the way.
They were drying laundry and I liked all the bright colors. Reminded me of the mountains in Jamaica. One of the owners walked out right after I snapped the shutter. People were so friendly to the blonde girl in the backpack. I had to ask a lot of directions on my walk to Av. Tres Fronteras, and one boy even helped me without my asking. I suppose I looked a bit lost at the six-street intersection with my map open wide. I felt very safe in Iguazu. Only when back on the bus did I feel nervous: the border patrol walked up to my seat after I had been napping and woke up to an officer asking for my documentation. I was afraid I might be deported to Paraguay as he rifled through my passport. I was one of the only ones on the bus. He took a caramelo and walked off in his heavy boots, other officers in tow. Very disorienting.