Whereisgregsherman.com

Gregorio is the man...

Confidence and Patience

Mate - the delicious cultural national traditional everywhere drink of Argentina absolutely destroys stomachs. I finally cured my mate and got all the necessary utensils to drink properly. I had a ton of mate this morning while studying and felt the pain of the first day. The yerba is full of delicious energy and vitamins and tons of fiber. I am still recovering, but DAMN I studied well.

I just balled up my cultural studies midterm. YES.

And so on...

My new motto (at least for now) - "Confidence and Patience"
It just feels right.

Feeling good feeling great. Big weekend ahead: Big University International party. Maybe Uruguay. Good vibes. Buena onda. 3 midterms down - one to go. Dale! Chau

A Great Song To Start Your Day...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXGcPYD-R-Y

You'll be Danny Zuko in no time!

Songs I've Learned Lately

"Heroes" by David Bowie

"Love Me Do" by The Beatles

"Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley

"Mr. Bobby" by Manu Chau

"Live and Let Die" by Paul McCartney

If you have any suggestions/requests, please shoot them at me.

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT!

I AM A DANCING CAVEMAN

La Bomba Del Tiempo is the best thing in Buenos Aires. I went to my first show last night and am hitting myself over the head for not going earlier. It is basically a gigantic get together of beautiful people, some dreaded, other extremely sexy, and a melting pot of great vibes. In the center of this massive meeting of lovely human beings is a conductor standing in front of a group of 15 or so drummers, more percussionists, crazy Asian scat-singers, xylaphones, and an encore with more brass instruments. The energy was explosive and mind blowing. I am still unsure how the percussionists created melody and bent off of each other. If you ever go to Buenos Aires on a Monday - go to La Bomba. Hands down. The bomb.

Sunday Afternoon

Jamming with a mad bass
Two trumpets, sax, and a violin
Can only win with a full deck of cards in hand
Slamming Fernet and Cola
Culos culos culos
Why cant I stop staring
Its bearing on the bodi tree
In the backdrop of my cranium
Stealing titanium
From factories falling
On innocent families
Downtown catastrophe
I hitch a ride on a Tiger
To Tigre
Facundo aint eazay
Sleazy sideshow sluts
Sing shows for the dusk
But I drift apart
Standing in a drive through
8 I AM alive and hungry
Stake your territory
In a tummy ache
Earthquake messiah
Sunday afternoon

Miguel Jackson

Tigre Cantobar. Everytime (2 times) I have gone to sing kareoke slash party at Tigre Cantobar, I tear the house down with Miguel Jackson, especially "Billie Jean". I took my new awesome Jersey Jew friend Troy to Tigre and we hung out with my porteña friends Ro and Ines. Shots? I lost my ATM card so Troy has been a running tab as of late. We are too dangerous of a team together. Never have we had a bad experience hitting the noche.

You know its a good night (and quite common) in Buenos Aires to walk back to your house with the sun int he sky. I made it home last night - I mean morning - at 8 AM. As I walked in, my host mom was working on a cake. She says to me, "Estás destruido!" (you are destroyed!)

After sleeping a good sleep, showering a good shower and breakfasting a good toast and pear, I am off to buy a warmer jacket. It is getting muy frio here and I cannot understand why. I never imagined that Buenos Aires got cold. My mystical fantasies are frozen.

Talk soon. Glad to hear from some of you that reading this blog makes you happy. You make me happy.

David

"No me hinchés las bolas!"

Sink or Swim

This will probably be a long post:

Now that I have settled back into the kilombo reality of BsAs, I can reflect on the dream that was this past weekend. I embarked on a solo adventure to Entre Rios, the province above Buenos Aires. I booked a one-way trip to Colon, but before I made it there, I experienced an unforgetable night in the city. The highlights of this evening included: hardcore mingling with portenos at Tutti i Fiocchi, my home-stay family's bar, ripping shots of jager with my new friend Troy, freestyle-mania with an audience, and constantly offending the Paris Hilton of Argentina...An important to note about this evening is that I only received an hour of sleep and awoke equally as drunk as I when I layed my head to rest. Somehow I made it to the Retiro bus station across town; and after an ice cream breakfast, I was listo for the mysterious road ahead.

The ride to Colon moved like a fat kid through chocolate cake. I did some extreme powernapping and deep reading of "The Seven Madmen" by Robert Arlt (THIS BOOK IS AMAZING! It's frightening how beautifully it is written). When I jumped off the bus in Colon, I scanned the area and witnessed nothing but dirt roads and run-down houses. I drove 5 hours for this crap? I approached a terminal assistant: "This is my first time in Colon and I know absolutely nothing about this place. PLEASE help me." She gives me a map and directs me to a cheap hotel, and when I arrived, the little old owner looks me over and for some reason thinks I am a threat to her shitty establishment. Me! A nice Jewish boy from Beverly Hills. After a harmless talk, she handed over a key and I got settled... To cut this section short, my evening in Colon was uneventful, but crucial for the rest of my weekend adventure. I walked around the old town, sat in a church with a stray dog, and ate a delicious "primavera" salad and tuna sandwich. I stumbled upon a tourist center with information about a national park, El Palmar, 45 minutes away with camping, a plethera of palm trees and lots of fun activities availible. THIS IS IT! TOMORROW - El PALMAR! That night, I slept 12 whole hours, caught up on lost sleep, and walked to the bus stop with a danish in each hand. Colon - boring - short lived. Gotta move.

I took the 10:30 bus to Ubajay - a very sketchy town up the road - and found a remise (taxi) to El Palmar. The driver, Christian, was blasting reggaton as we sped through Ubajay to the local supermarket and bought a mountain of bread, salami, cheese, mayonessa, and insect repelant. Looks like I'll be eating sanwiches all weekend. We drove to El Palmar and Christian gave me a vocabulary lesson. I asked the woman at the gate if she wants a chupitin, which could either mean lollipop or something far worse. I payed the cheap entrance fee and we flew down the dirt road, weaving through massive palm trees. I suddenly get the feeling Ive been dropped in either Jurassic Park or Vietnam, or both. When Christian let me go, a rush of excitement swept through my jumpity soul. What next?

I rented a small carpa and sleeping bag and began going to work. The problem was - I'd never done this before! All my friends had set up the tent in past camping excursions. An Entre Rios television crew came to help me, but we still couldn't solve this survivalist puzzle. Finally, Miguel, an El Palmar employee came to save the day while the television crew filmed and interview me. Can you believe it? Now I am a F-grade star of the Ubajay tourist channel! After we (or Miguel) got the tent up and running, Miguel and I made small talk. Out of nowhere he tells me that San Pedro Cactus is the best drug in Argentina. WHOAH! That was random. We split a liter of Quilmes and talked and talked and talked. This guy is extreme.

I also met a retired couple that lives is Vicente Lopez - my home town! The man used to work on the corner of my street, a one-minute walk! How strange it was to have we met 6 hours away from home? Super nice people. They offered me good wine and as I always do - accepted it.

The rest of the day brought swimming in the river, meditating on a sand bar and finding peace. I almost hitched a ride on a canoe...So close! At night, after a juicy salami sandwich, I went to the camp hang out spot and got to know the park staff. They were re-copado, super cool! I joined them for a free dinner including ravioli and plenty of free beer. One of the workers told me that Chochi Veragnani, Ubajay's top goal-scorer, cooked our dinner in the other kitchen....CHOCHI VERAGNANI? I have no clue who this possible legend is, so I scanned all their faces, left them with a Larry David look and finally sprinted to the nearby hut and asked who the hell is Chochi Veragnani? Thats' when I giant rose and gave me a violent look. This guy was huuuuge! Immediately, I became a Ubajay soccer fanatic and Chochi supporter. I tried some of his meat sauce and it tasted superb. Chochi tells me this, "Chochi is only good at three things: cooking, futbol, and fucking." I take his word for it and sprint back to the group. Jose, the park owner and American hater and I get into a political debate, but settle it by declaring Manu Ginobli, Carlitos Teves, and Chochi the best sports stars in the world. He then takes me in his car to go searching for carpinchos, or gigantic gophers than roam the area at night. In the car, Jose keeps swurving back and forth, back and forth, and I think to myself this guy is wasted. Not only this, but night hunters are in the area shooting wild jungle pigs around the park. And! lightning lights the sky around us... What could possibly go wrong? We found a pack of carpinchos and I nearly stepped on one as we screamed in unison. Not only this, but I found a toad and pet the fat little bugger! Very cool.

After more hilarious conversation with the workers and a night cap of some "Doble V" Argentinian whiskey, I was ready to crash. You have no idea how funny these guys were. Chochi once threatened me with a chainsaw for talking to his hot girlfriend. !!!!! He was by no means consciously going to cause harm, but I know somewhere deep in his psyche, he contemplated it.

The next morning I went horsebackriding with Paolo, the horse master of the park. My caballo Muleto eventually eased up and we became buds. I felt like a gaucho cruising under the tall trees, a cool breeze massaging my sunburnt face, and the smell of mother nature's perfume leaking into my nostrils. I finally galloped on a horse - what a rush!!! We stopped at a lookout point that was absolutely astonishing, but I forgot my camera! O well, its all in my mind...

Later, I heard an electric guitar screaming in the distance. I followed the noise and met Manu, the restaurant chef. We jammed out together, sang "Love Me Two Times" and shared some fine Argentinian flora. As the sun began to set, I thought, "I have to get to that lookout point!" I took of running in a dead sprint, sweating like a wild jungle pig through the hellish humidity...I finally arrived at the spot and watched the sun drop from a thick wall of black cloud. A giant golden egg waiving goodnight to the world.

We had an asado - I got very inebriated, and everyone had a dandy ol' time. Meat, wine, music, love - that's Argentina. It rained hard that night. My tent took a beating. Lots of my possessions soaked in sweet rain.

The next morning, I crawled out of my broken tent, shook off my hangover and decided to swim to Uruguay. Everyone gave me that absurd look and told me it's possible, but unlikely - 2 km each way. I am not the best swimmer, but something told me I could do it...I WILL DO IT! I grabbed a Baywatch-orange-torpedo and took off in slow motion to the water. Julio, the lifeguard, watched from a distance as I plunged into the green clean river. About 200 m into my journey, I looked up and saw the horizon drift further and further away. The current picked up and pressed down against my flailing attempts of glory. I was actually swimming in place like a water treadmill. When I return to land, Julio asked me, "Che! Seriously, have you ever swam before?" I replied, "dude...yes, but never anything as stupid as that." My effort was judo-chopped by mother nature, but then again, I tried, right?

When Christian picked me up Monday afternoon, I didnt want to leave. Its so hard to say goodbye. Seriously, will I ever see these people again? That's life: a string of moments. Nothing will ever be the same as it was, but that is the beauty of the present moment. New life. New adventures. New situations. Constantly moving forward. I met some of the most beautiful people since arriving in Argentina. The further away from the capital you travel, the stranger and nicer the people become. I also acknowledged that wherever you go, there will always be good people to push you forward.

When I arrived in BsAs, I experienced culture shock - probably because I dove from pure tranquility into a trash bin that is downtown Buenos Aires. I took the train back to my home stay, ate a healthy dinner and slept a healthy sleep. On the bus to school the next day, I thought to myself that there are more connections in nature, but there is no doubt that connections are constantly being formed within infinite movements and expressions of an enormous metropolis. Just as this thought passed through my mind, I recognized the man standing on the street corner - he sat next to me on the train the night before! Of all 14 million people around... As the bus drives on, I take a moment to breath in the beauty of everything and destiny riding above my head.

Colón Fever!

I whipped out the map. I had to...

"Nahuel, where should I go?"

Anything he said would suffice, and hopefully it does because I just bought a one-way ticket to Colón. Ahhhhh, Colón...I hardly know you at all, yet I love you. Rumors of palm tree forests, sand dunes, thermal pools, and clean rivers make my colon blush. The mere thought of wearing a swim suit is florescent in my moldy mind, flooded with rain and grey-scale skies - Buenos Aires´ non-awesome autumness.

Release some stress and press go. D-A-Go! is ready to rock n roll!!! WhhooooOOOOO!!!!!!

San Isidro Feria (where I jam with "Sergio the Very-Good-Violinist")

My New Favorite Sandwich Store in Vicente Lopez!

View From Mendoza Dam

Mendoza Mendoza

First off, if you haven´t read any of whereisgregsherman.com - you should. Greg is a close family friend currently traveling the world, and just dove into hot water in Southeast Asia. Whereisgregsherman.com is sabrosisima.blogspot.com´s brother blog and should be visited. He is a great writer, too.

Anyways, after rolling into Belgrano at 9 AM, I stumbled off the bus, with a mountain of crap on my back, and a heavy box of party favors in hands. A long weekend in Mendoza can do the soul good - not good - but great! I somehow hail a cab and pour in with my head treading above its own exhaustion. I look to my left and see a mirage, but it´s really her. Abril, my close Argentinian friend/ homestay granddaughter...remember? is standing on the corner waiting for a bus. I scream her name, flailing my arms - attracting half-open-9 AM Argentinian eyes towards the cab. She gives me a "what the fuck" grin before the cab speeds off in the other direction. The cab driver Luís says something to the degree of "Damn, shes a hot mama" and we immediately dive into conversation ranging from Mendoza economics to painting minature helicopters.

Now, 7 hours and a grand siesta later, I look back at the weekend of what I thought would be the Wally´s World of wine. We did visit 2 bodegas, wine taste juuuuust a lil´ bit, and made multiple rounds at the gift shops, but that was miniscule compared to the outdoorsiness of the weekend. We are talking 2 gorgeous hikes, rafting, a huge dam, and constant fútbol. The adventure leaders at "extremo" even through us an 8th grade style dance party, except this one had a bar, an even worse DJ than 2002, but way better rainbow disco lights. The gift shop spree sure came in handy that night...

With the nature detox still permeating through my mind, I try to block out the ruckus of buses outside and 90s pop music blasting from this internet cafe. Mendoza Mendoza, save me another dance, will ya?

Mendoza Paisaje

Grapes!

Chewing on life!

F U Pharangitis! TAKE THAT fever! KApow! SLAM! WHAMMEEE!!!!

That was a dramatization of me fighting my sickness 50s batman style. NOW i am back in it - dancing like a dancing machine - and ready to drop kick a professional WWF wrestler from the top rope.

Anyways, I lost my phone on the 152 bus. I bought a new one and think I got overpriced. I organized my room and its as clean as can be. I put up my posters of John Lennon playing acoustic guitar in India and a 1904 reproduction Fernet advertisement! I am going to Mendoza for the weekend with my group. Ahhh... Mendoza. In my dreams, you are dressed in rivers of wine and serenading clouds in the sky. I shall see soon enough - 12 hours of bussing through the night.

I learned Insense and Peppermints by Strawberry Alarm Clock. Any guitar suggestions?

KEEP SMILING AND EATING FRESH FOOD. AND FRUIT. FRUIT IS GOOD. THE PEARS HERE ARE DELICIOUS.

Swingin´ back into action,
D-A-Go!

Stone Legs

I return home, leaning on the gate, with that look in my eye: ahora - me muero. I collapse on the forest green sofa in the living room and swim with the stars on the ceiling. How do you explain this feeling in Spanish? Mi mente está moviendo en circulos. I wail in pain when my legs and butt cheeks turn to stone. I call my medico by my side and she feels my forehead and neck - I am on fire. I can´t tell if it´s the sunburn seeping into my bloodstream or if I´m falling deeper and deeper into the cosmos.

I had used every drop of energy. While I arrived home last night with my body in ruins, I was happy I did what I did.

I begin my Saturday in the morning with another round of tennis with the old guys. This time I move like shining dulce de leche, leaving a river of sweat on the clay court. After a much needed shower, I join the group in the club house for a gigantic lunch with Canelones - an Italian pasta dish - as the main attraction. The old foggies talk so incredibly fast that I am surprised even they could understand each other. Vermouth and wine is constantly poured down my throat, and my mind begins to slow - the men start talking despacio; I can understand more; the food tastes delicious. Beneath their comb-overs, wrinkled faces, and greying mustaches, I could see the boys within all these men.

I return home around 4 o clock almost asleep, but force myself into another shower and out the door. I drag each leg in front of the other with my guitar weighing down my back. Slowly slowly moving forward. Slowly slowly towards the train. I jump into the cabin as it takes off towards Tigre, and when I land, I hear a group of musicians at the other end jamming out: a rapper spits his flow as the drummers squat low and bang out a rhythm. On my end, another guitarist is noodling off nonsense by himself. I join him and we begin jamming out the nonsense blues for the whole ride. We get off in San Isidro and walk together for a litle while. When we split ways, I encounter a Peruvian guittarist/cane flutist busking alone on the sidewalk. I join him and we play Hotel California...(I hate that song). But, we make 5 pesos in about 3 minutes and I give him a satisfactory look. He fires back a cold stare and I can tell he wants nothing of me, so I scurry along. Slowly slowly towards the feria.

When I arrive, there is an explosion of life: a magic show, a drum circle, lines of tents, and the smell of roasted almonds. I move past the show towards the drum circle, but dont stay long. I find my buddy Sergio at his headband stand and we greet with a cheek kiss and big hug. Sergio is a beautiful soul. He plays the violin like a dove, and we sounds great together. We whip out the instruments and jam out renditions of Man of Constant Sorrow, Youve Got to Hide Your Love Away, Jean Genie, and Another Brick in the Wall. But in the middle of a jam, a lady in a nearby tent faints and everything comes to a sudden halt. I wander over to my friend Cora, who is sorta like my Argentinian Jewish aunt, and we talk for a while.

I meet more and more people. Luis, a robust bassist, rocks out a heavy blues riff and I improvize Spanish love lyrics over it. Lucas plays Where is my Mind by the Pixies and we all howl at the moon. I meet a semi-rastifari named Marcus and I buy a headband from his stand. We talk about immigration, Mexican hooligans, and learning from the streets. I leave the feria with superb happiness and close to zero life. I meet a man in the train station and we get to talking about Bjork, marionetts, and sarcasm. Right before my stop, another man says something to me about destiny and I feel a reaffirmed light pass through my soul. But, when I get off the train, I can hardly move a muscle. I climb up the hill to my house with such little energy I barely reach the top. When I arrive home, I am ready to drift into a thousand dreams. What I learn is that I have a fever and I need to rest. With Elvira as my doctor, she orders me around: take a shower, Ill make soup, lie down, change into these clothes...and so on.

I awake feeling refreshed. In the city of life, its not hard to run out of gas.

"We are the fruits of yesterday - and the shadows of tomorrow."

My Program in Iguasu

View from the best boat ride ever

My Program in Iguasu

Home Cookin with Paolo the Brazilian Blues Maniac

Iguasu Falls

Lake in the Palermo Forest (in middle the city!)

Abril and her twin sisters

2 Americans: Me and Joe (Jet) Jackson

Guitar Fingers

No, the yellow one!

Knees drowning in red clay powder. The tiger moves like a shark. My heart is filled with sweat. I played tennis with Cacho (my host dad) and his "old friends" this MORNING. Imagine that, waking up at 8 to do something...What fun! Excitement! Que gran excercisio! I will play tomorrow as well.

I decided to stick around BsAs this weekend. Jesús is getting all the attention around here, and I will join my host parents at church tonight.

I am learning songs for the guitar, and in two days I have learned...¨Sittin on the Dock of the Bay¨ by Otis Redding, ¨Jean Jeanie¨ by David Bowie, "Dream a Little Dream of Me" by Mamas and the Papas, and "Youve Got To Hide Your Love Away" and "Glass Onion" by Los Beatles.

IF you have suggestions, let me know.

I am called to church. Chau.