newest entry
contact
quien es nico?
a links page
Antes:
2005
2004
2003
2002
2001
2000
I also do stuff over at livejournal:
the insufficient blog
otro lugares:
absorbacon
abstractnixon
aiyah
amateur gourmet
amazing adventures of bill
appetites
archerr
bill and kent
blockade boy
center of gravitas
cheap blue guitar
chocolate and zucchini
comics 212
designer blog
dogpoet
edwin
how to learn swedish
hungry tiger
i make things
i was just really very hungry
insequence
island of misfit toys
lady, that's my skull
mysterysteps
news from me
old grey poet
once upon a tart
postmodernbarney
precocious curmudgeon
pretty, fizzy, paradise
roar of comics
something old, nothing new
stop touching my food
strange maps
super underwear perverts
there are some who call me tim
tinman
tmb
ultrasparky
diaryland
diaryland profile
ringsurf gay diary
previous next random list join
Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
10/10/2004
The joy of traveling in a seatbeltless car throwing itself directly into ongoing traffic
More catch up from the summer vacation:
It was dark and foggy when we flew into Santiago, so we missed seeing Andes from the air, a sight that turned out to be among the best things about the flight to Buenos Aires.� The other good thing was that it was fairly short and thanks to a last minute internet deal at the LAN Chile site, fairly cheap as well. Getting out of Chile was simple. Getting into Argentina was another matter.� Immigration was a chore to pass through, and everywhere there were lines to deal with.� There was even a line for getting your luggage X-rayed to leave the airport (and why exactly is that necessary?).
�
The airport hassle of dealing with the airport was nothing compared to what happened next, the chartered ride to the guesthouse.� Guidebooks and tourist web sites all advise travelers visiting Buenos Aires to be careful with taxis because in the past few years there has been a large increase in the number of random kidnappings.� Essentially the safest thing is to hire a car service, or only use clearly marked radio taxis which you call for.
The guesthouse we were staying at hired a car service for us, so we were safe in that respect.� In another respect, the guy driving made all my comments about Chilean taxi drivers being crazed seem like petty nick picking.� This guy was certifiable, making left and right turns directly in front of ongoing traffic, somehow trusting that they would get out of his way.� Considering we passed more than a few accidents, I didn�t think this was the wisest thing to do.
Not only was his driving making me squirm, but his route was as well.� We quickly got off of a toll highway (to boost his fee that much higher?) and used a windy, twisted route through small side streets and wide avenues.� Neighborhoods adjacent to airports generally aren�t going to be the richest and most impressive, or at least not impressive in the way local tourist boards are likely to want to promote.
Our seemingly random route took us through poor barrio and middle class neighborhood, through better looking places and worse.� Talking about the ride afterwards, both John and I spent the trip thinking �stop, stop� or �don�t stop, don�t stop� depending on the scuzziness of the neighborhood we were traveling through at the moment, but we never did seem to pull over.
Night fell, it got harder to judge were we were, but eventually the driver announced that we had overshot the street we wanted, made a couple of turns and then we were there.
John and Carlos spent the previous night online looking for late minute deals for a hotel in Buenos Aires.� Unfortunately the places John decided he was interested in tended to be fully booked, or without any specials (and thus not entirely affordable). Which is when the idea of �if we can�t stay in a fancy place, then we might as well have an adventure� came up.
One idea tossed around was a gay B&B, that mentioned in it�s advertising that the owners had no problem if you had overnight �friends,� and assured potential guests that it was more than acceptable to lounge around in the common areas less than fully clothed.�
The idea of sharing space with naked gay men and their �friends� was not overly appealing. Quite frankly, I didn�t want to be that adventurous, so instead we went with a gay friendly guesthouse with no mentions of nudity in it�s ads. It turned out to be a very nice place with outgoing and friendly hosts who fed us mountains of food every morning even though we were the only guests booked at that time (a benefit, or problem depending on how you look at such things of going in the off season).� It also helped that the place was cheap besides looking nice.�
After getting our luggage into the room that night, and having a welcome drink with the owner, John and I crashed on the bed exhausted from flight, airport, and insane ride from heck.� We also hungry, but neither of us had the energy to even begin thinking about going out to a restaurant.��
After resting for a while, I spoke with one of the hosts about nearby food options, and decided on getting some stuff from a market half a block away.� The walk did me good.� Not only letting me stretch out my legs a little, but also in reassuring me that we weren�t in one of the dangerous looking barrios the driver had taken us through.� It also showed me that I was going to need to be aware of were I was walking.� The streets and sidewalks of Buenos Aires are filled with dog droppings. From business districts to residential neighborhoods, all the streets were �loaded.�
Amusingly enough, the market was Korean owned.� This is were I�d be tempted to throw in a joke about how it was as if we had never left home, but while the basics of the market was similar, IE, it was a small Korean family owned Mom & Pop, the details were all different.� There was no front wall (lack of walls is discouraged a bit here), and in the middle of of a large winter produce display flowing out on to the sidewalk were large red avocados.� At the back of the store was large display of fresh cheeses and the women standing there was visibly disappointed when after examining a few, I turned and walked away.
I bought neither cheese, nor oddly colored avocados, instead choosing some snack sized yogurt, fruits, a couple of sodas, cookies and other comfort foods.� After a day of travel, I was in the need of some comfort.
More later,
nico