Wet and soggy in Montevideo

Who could possibly eat breakfast after the very filling dinner we had?!! We could and did.

We were prepared for chilly weather and we were somewhat prepared for wet weather. We were not adequately prepared for chilly, wet weather. We ended up being soggy most of the day but were quite productive.

My little umbrella could not keep both of us dry and with the frequent gusts of wind, it spent a lot of time safely tucked away in my bag. My denim jeans and fleece jacket were an efficient wick soaking up all that the Uruguayan clouds threw at us. I was damp and chilled to the bone.

But, we made our way to the Mercado del Puerto with beautiful colors (purple artichokes) and took in the smells of the wood-burning grills of the food vendors. It was too early for lunch but we scouted it out.

After buying some souvenirs and drying out at the hostel, we returned to the most untouristy food stall hidden in the back behind the fancy restaurants. Muy deliciosas! The seafood selections were wonderful although I would (and did) eat anything smeared with their parsley and garlic garnish. Yummy!One of the owners poses with Alisa for a photo.

Drats! The rain returned so contented bellies had to fortify us against the inclement weather. Alisa did some more exploring town after improvising rain boots with some plastic bags. and we had a great time at the Artisans Marketplace. All in all, a successful day.

Montevideo

The bus ride to Montevideo took us through the green, idyllic farm lands with cows, sheep, chickens and ubiquitous cell towers sprouting straight up to the sun from the fertile ground.

We're staying at the Green Hostel, a brand-new place in La Ciudad Vieja (the Old City). The WiFi connection is slow so I'll post photos later.

The Old City with all of its scenic attractions has fallen into abandonment, disrepair and long-time neglect. But, there seems to be some revival including Green. It feels like Old Cartagena must have looked like before it's rebirth.

We'll spend two days here to get our souvenirs. Alisa has been looking for a skirt. I'm surprised to see that prices are much higher and the quality is lower than in NYC.

Alisa generally passes for a local no matter what country she is in, although it's a little harder when she has her gringa mom along (of course, pausing to take the silly photo at a phone booth doesn't help).

But, Montevideo is a small "big city" and people are friendly and it doesn't take long for some of the vendors to recognize us. After walking around the deserted Old Town looking for a dinner spot, we end up at a place near our hostel. My veggie calzone is huge. The cafe is crowded and the staff is short-handed. Thank goodness, they forget about Alisa's order. We both are stuffed after finishing my dinner. We're such cheap dates.

On Tuesday we'll hit the local markets.

Beautiful Colonia

After a packed but uneventful flight, an easy, though costly breeze through immigration (I think other countries are retaliating against US policies) and customs, I navigated my way over to the ferry terminal. Pure joy! Alisa was there waiting for me after her long, overland journey from northern Patagonia.

We take the short ferry trip over to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. What a cute town, confident enough preserve its character in the shadows of the excessive, mega Buenos Aires. But, it's still slightly disconcertingly touristy and yet not. We haven't seen any opulent cathedrals. Were the Uruguayans able to stem that tide centuries ago as they seem to have in more modern times?

What are the things that make Uruguay unique? Their mate (herbal tea) tradition is seemingly much more entrenched than, say even Argentina. We see people walking around clutching their mate (gourds) and Thermos containers of hot water. Still, they don't impose that culture on visitors. There are no mate cafes screaming out to lure in others.

The weather is a perfect antidote for both of us. The warmth of early Spring embraces Alisa who left the snowy climes of Bariloche. The mild, crisp sunny days are are a wonderful transition after a long, hot, humid NY summer.

We stayed at La Perla del Plata (Silver River Pearl).

We're taking off up the coast but will circle back to lovely Colonia.


More to come...

Go figure

It's time to dust off the dormant blog and repurpose it back to its original travelogue. I have a lot of half-finished summer musings and composting updates but will wait to post them. Also, coming soon, by popular demand, I have some favorite recipes queued up to unveil.

As I prepare to hit the road again, it's sobering to know that Alisa has already been making her way to our rendevous. She has long since embarked on her 21-hour, 830-mile bus trek from Bariloche to Buenos Aires. For me it's an easy jump across 5,250 miles in 11 hours and most of that time will be spent sleeping overnight so that I can awake in Bs As. Yes, of course, Alisa could have flown too (a two-hour trip) but when has she ever taken the easy way there when she can have an adventure?!!

I'm so excited to have another opportunity to travel with her. I'm relatively unemcumbered, deciding to go with just a carry-on knapsack. Sorry, sweetie, no stash of peanut butter or the usual treats this trip although I will lug around the requested books and sneak in a few goodies. I'm squeezing in my yoga blanket in case we find a place to practice. But, I won't be stopping by Bariloche to check out Alisa's new place. Instead we'll make our way over to Uruguay so that Alisa can renew her visa and try to get a sampling of what makes Uruguay unique.


PRW

Urban Composter: Compost Matures and Leaves the Nest

After just three months perfectly average urban kitchen waste has transformed into beautiful, rich compost ready to debut in a country garden in the Adirondacks. I've learned a lot to shorten the production cycle and, thus, anticipate sending another batch out into the world. And, what a world of opportunity there is. Interest in my compost has also been fielded from rooftop gardeners in Greenwich Village and a brownstone owner in Park Slope.

But, first, I need to solve the fruit fly problem that has developed in the current batch. I've tried fashioning a vinegar trap that didn't fool these savvy City-bred pests. So, I'll continue to research and test other solutions.

Practical Recycling Woman (PRW)

Urban Composter (one-month-old)

After one month, is it that I’m just used to it or is the smell really nearly gone? Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I really think once the compost starts “cooking” the smell issue comes under control.

I probably should throw away my first “batch” of compost (and might end up doing that) because of some of the initial mistakes I made.

Lessons learned:
1. Don’t compost broad leaves from bushes and trees. The leaves from the rose bouquet aren’t anywhere near to composting.
2. Be sure to take off those little sticky labels from vegetables and fruits; they live on forever.
3. Hoard black-and-white newspaper to use for dry filler because most newsprint has color inks.
4. No need to spend a lot of money to buy fancy equipment (although it is a little fun to see what’s being marketed).

Things I did right:
1. Aerate (mix the compost up) about once a week.
2. Compost predominantly uncooked vegetable waste (I do throw in egg shells, coffee filters, laundry lint). I will probably start introducing some cooked food (non-meat) waste now that the composting process is going smoothly.
3. Keep two containers: one that can age quickly for 4-6 weeks; the other that holds cumulating compost.
4. Reduce odors by making sure liquids don’t accumulate at the bottom by layering filler (thin leaves and shredded newspaper); also use filler on top to keep the heat in and the bugs and smells away.

Let me know what you think, if you have any tips to share, or if you want to get started.

Perpetually Reclaiming (the) World

Dirt pies not pie charts

I was jumping the gun and did an early weigh-in anticipation of my three-week status report on my apartment composting efforts.

Aaargh! My compost did not gain weight even though I have been regularly feeding it. Yes, it only gets a very low-cal, extremely high-fiber diet. But, none-the-less I was picturing charting a seasonally adjusted time series with a cumulative running total graph or maybe pie charts over time showing the changing distribution of household waste – recycled, reused, reduced (composted). No, this is not going to work. I’m going to have to find another way to measure success.

Well, I can get qualitative satisfaction in reporting that some of the compost is now a sum of undistinguishable parts rather than just moldy incarnations of their previous selves. The Valentine roses and baby’s breath and even some of the stems are no longer distinct. The used-up lemon and egg shells are well integrated.

But, there’s an elephant in the room that I’m trying to deny or ignore -- it is the smell. My cute little composting bucket has a nice filter but that doesn’t do any good when I open the lid to throw compostables in. Also, I am trying regularly to aerate (stir up the compost to get air into the mix) and that process also releases the odors into the apartment. So, I find myself drinking a lot more aromatic teas, orange-scented mate, etc. so that the discarded leaves can act, albeit in vain, as a neutralizer.

The other thing I found myself doing is purposefully buying produce that will produce more compost. I will buy radishes with greens to compost rather than loose radishes, similarly with carrots. Nevertheless, without grass cuttings it’s hard to find a good source of easily breakdownable dry matter to mix with the wetter kitchen wastes. Leaves take forever to decompose. One thing that is working better is that I’m shredding newspapers into finer strips so that they don’t clump up as much.

The goal is to get to a state where my compost process is efficiently breaking down before summer so that there won’t be any flies/bugs/odors with the warmer weather and to do this without chemicals or creatures. (Sorry, Alisa, the mere thought of vermicomposting gives me nightmares of worms escaping during the night and tracking me down.)

Anyway, charts or not there is still satisfaction in being able to nurture garbage to a hopefully more blissful future.

Persistently Reducing Waste

If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere...

Composting is such a compelling concept. Why not reduce landfill waste by helping nature to renew itself? So what if I live in NYC with no terrace or garden?!

I did a little research and found these helpful sites about indoor composting in an apartment kitchen:

www.idealistcafe.com/2008/09/apartment-composting-how-to-compost.html

planetgreen.discovery.com/home-garden/apartment-compost-guide.html

www.journeytoforever.org/compost_indoor.html

There's no "need" to buy expensive equipment but, hey, if you're going to have a hobby, it always fun to look at the new gadgets, etc. that are available. After composting with an old container, I did buy a fancy, composting bin with filter. It hasn't done much for the composting process but I think it might cut down on the odor.

I decided to compost only uncooked, kitchen waste, only plant matter, no dairy or animal products (except egg shells). I use shredded newspaper (black-and-white), flowers/plants, dryer lint to soak up liquid. Although Alisa was lobbying for vermicomposting, I really don't want to bring in and deal with squiggly creatures.

However, after one-and-a-half weeks, I see that the composting process will take some time. The clementine peels take forever to break down as well as asparagus stems. The shredded newspapers have clumped up. The Valentine bouquet hasn't integrated but continues to bring joy to the mix -- a little over seven pounds, so far. Some of the how-to sites suggest using a food processor to break things down first, but somehow using electricity to "make" compost doesn't work for me (yet).

If you are also composting, please share your tips and lessons learned. I'll check back in a couple of weeks with another progress report.

Peaceful Recycling Warrior

Let there be Peace On Earth

Underdevelopment is not a step towards development, but the historic consequence from foreign development. -Eduardo Galeano

There are many cliches which become overused because of their fundamental truth. We shouldn't dismiss them. Other cliches become accepted truths but have their basis in human frailties. We don't have to accept them either. We can stive to be better.

So much hope was generated when we elected a President who was a student of history. Might we as a nation learn not to repeat the errors of the past? No, alas, we are human BUT we don't have to accept that as a reason not to work for improvement.

Let us continue to speak up, demonstrate, work for change. We each can make a difference. It is not disloyal to disagree with those whom we worked so hard to put into office.

PRW

Holiday Cookies

This year I got an early start on holiday cookie baking by attending Yvonne & Dan’s cookie bake day. We all arrived at their apartment bearing our assigned ingredients. Everything was well-organized and we quickly got to work with assembly-line efficiency.

As each batch came out of the oven, the worker bees sampled the fruits of their labors.







At the end, we all came home with a sampling of a dazzling array of treats: Schokoladenküsse, Vanille Kipferl, Königsberger, Orangen Taler, Engelsaugen, Marzipan Brote, Almendrados, Aprikosen Mandel Wolken.

Thanks, Yvonne & Dan, for inspiring me to reach to new heights as I plan for my holiday cookie making!

The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge

Here are some recent photos from bicycling to the Little Red Lighthouse (and the Great Gray Bridge) with Stacey. It was a challenging trip for Stacey's second outing on a bike but she's a trouper.
PRW

Obon 2009

There's nothing like death to make one appreciate life. And, maybe it's all just as simple as that. As life throws difficult challenges at us, we need only consider the alternative.

So, why not celebrate those came and went before us, remembering their lives? And, here I am doing just that at the Obon Festival in Bryant Park. Obon is an annual Japanese Buddhist tradition that takes on the character of the locale. Here in NYC it takes place on the second Sunday in July and just like the City, anything and everything goes. What a wonderful crazy quilt experience!

Obon season is kicked off by two weeks of "practice." Again, a mishmash of the City -- the old and young, the very experienced and the novices, and a lot of in-betweens. Without practice, the Obon would be over in a flash.

Here's a photo by Keiko's mom (see Stacey, Keiko and me).

Now this is what sailing is all about

Finally, the clouds parted for the weekend and left NYC in a glorious state for the Fourth of July weekend. Thank you, Carole, for getting us on the crew of America II.

The winds were perfect and with Carole at the helm, we quickly made it out to the Verrazano Bridge.

I was assigned to grind on the starboard side. The winds were light so trimming the sails was relatively easy.

What a beautiful way to spend the holiday weekend in NYC!

The good, the bad, the ugly, and the very lovely

OK, there are already Facebook groups testifying to horror stories involving Buenos Aires taxi drivers, so I won't go into a rant about that.

But, first it's time to say good-bye to Bariloche, Alisa and Nate. After spending another day in Bariloche checking out the nooks and crannies I missed before, we hop on a bus to the airport. Alisa knows not to draw out long good-byes with me and they hop on the return bus back to Bariloche.

The check-in clerk takes advantage of my distracted mind and starts telling me I need to have an Argentinean passport because I am flying on a discounted ticket. I regain my wits about me and explain that I booked my tickets over the Internet and that there was no problem when I flew from BA to Bariloche. After a little drama (because my Spanish is pretty rudimentary) and intervention by his supervisor, my ticket and US passport are accepted but he needs to regain the upper hand so he decides that I can't carry on my roll-on bag even after I show that it's half-empty and can squish down. Oh, well, not a problem. I'm experienced at traveling with checked baggage now.

It's a packed flight with lot of cranky tots. Argentinean parents seem to have a high threshhold for letting their children wail on.

The Buenos Aires taxi driver decides to take me for a winding ride even though the B&B is just a short hop from the airport. When the meter starts going too high, I let him know in my very basic Spanish that the "official" at the airport told me that the ride would be less than 30 pesos. The driver said I must have misunderstood. No, no, I said. I understood very well confidently though I sound like a gringa. I can see on the map (as I waved the map to him) how close the hostel is from the airport. I didn't tell him that I'm inept at reading maps and, besides, the map I was waving was from Bariloche.

But, he got the picture anyway and we finally pull up to the hostel. He even knocked off a few pesos from fare after a little shouting match. I need to learn a few curses from Alisa (I don't think my calling him liar and a thief was very intimidating since I can't even roll my r's dramatically).

But, the little Bed & Breakfast is very cute. Even though it's in a relatively quiet part of town there are still the ubiquitous yapping guard dogs whose effectiveness is questionable since they bark constantly. But, I'm able to block it out partially with my NY-subway ear plugs.

I still manage to wake up early, grab some breakfast and start wandering around the Palermo section of BA. Palermo is very slow to wake up on Sunday mornings but it's a quaint section of town.

I seek out the Japanese garden and my camera doesn't stop. Each scene is prettier than the next.











Once Palermo wakes up, it has many Sunday crafts markets around each of its many squares, parks and traffic circles. There are lots of places to explore and get lost for this map-challenged reader.

But, alas, the day comes to an end and it's time to hop in another taxi. This time I decide I better take a fixed-price taxi and he even discounts the fare because neither of us had small change.

The Delta airlines check-in clerk hassles me because my passport doesn't have a stamp showing that I left Argentina even though there are other stamps showing that I entered Chile, left Chile and re-entered Argentina. So, I have to go to Immigration and plead my case. Just a tiresome bureaucracy but it gets done in time for me to trade in my left-over pesos for four bottles of Argentinean wine after the duty-free sales guy tells me that I can bring 6 bottles into the US duty free.

It's a packed flight with lots of babies, children and happy tour groups. But, eventually, everyone settles in for a long, overnight journey home.

The US Customs guy stops me and doesn't believe it when I told him that I didn't know that there was a one-bottle limit. Anyway, he rolls his eyes at me and waves me through telling me to stop playing innocent. Just as I start to protest (why would I lie?!!) then I get it -- he must hear that all the time.

Hmmm, will my illegal wine taste just a little better? Anyway, it's great to be back home where I am able to navigate without reading a map.

Thanks, Alisa and Nate, for sharing a wonderful slice of your life there with me!

I walk rubble (Camino Gravel)

Chile is beautiful with a nice, casual feeling. We enjoy a nice breakfast and plot a course to our next destination. We make our way to Villarrica with a majestic volcano dominating the skyline. It´s a cute town with artisan markets. Alisa and Nate pick up a most delicious watermelon (click on the photo to see Alisa).

But, first we gawk at the mountain, enjoy the vistas from the lake shore. Alisa and Nate try the famous compleatos (can they put anything more on that frankfurter?!! avocado, mayo, mustard, catsup, cheese, etc.). Alisa and I try the refreshing mote.

After a good night´s sleep, we take a long, scenic ride home. We´re now pros at border crossings and we make it through both borders quite smoothly. They are somehow able to find a place to stamp in Alisa´s crowded passport. The map promises a Camino Gravel (unpaved road). A computerized translation (or a bored translator with a sense of humor) translated it to English literally as I walk rubble. It is a dusty ride but the scenic vistas are rewarding. We become picky about which spectacular scene to stop and document.

We pull into Bariloche with plans for making a dinner of garlic bread, stuffed squash and quinoa. We attack the first two with such gusto, there´s no room for the quinoa.

Alas, just one more night in Bariloche for me and then on to Buenos Aires.

Chile sin carne (without meat)

We get to the car rental agency just before the doors open. We want to get an early start. It´s a good thing since it takes us a couple of times (leaving Argentina and then entering Chile) to navigate the process. But, along the way we are treated to some amazing views of the Lake District of northern Patagonia.

It´s a long drive (thanks, Nate, for chauffering) and we keep nourished with peanut butter sandwiches and alfajores (cookies).

We pass through Osorno, Chile and end up in Valdivia. We stay at a cute hostel decorated with a hat collection on their walls. Valdivia has a riverfront with sea lions swimming around the boaters. We stop to watch a mixed doubles volleyball tournament, walk along the river and check out the markets.

We sleep well after a long day and a hearty meal sin carne.

To market to market

After a great night´s rest, I head into the center of Bariloche on the bus with Alisa for her 8 am shift on Monday at Tango Inn hostel. We share a yerba mate (herbal tea served in a gourd) and scrambled eggs with other staff and hostel guests. Then, I set out to explore the town.

Bariloche is a cute tourist town which must be bustling in the winter during ski season. Now, during the summer months the tourists seem to like the chocolate shops and souvenir shops. The lake is beautiful; the town is quaint with its Saint Bernard dogs posing for photo ops and a few pesos.

I hunt through the bookstore looking for a Argentinean vegetarian cookbook. But, of course, Argentinean vegetarian is an oxymoron, so no luck there. But, I manage to snag the obligatory telephone booth photo with Nate and Alisa in them.

After a nice dinner of quesadillas, homemade salsa and guacamole from veggies bought at the market two doors down from Alisa and Nate´s apartment, we make plans to visit El Bolson where there is an artisans´market on Tuesdays.

We wake up early on Tuesday, but can´t get seats on the 9:30 bus but are lucky to get on the 11:00 bus. It´s packed for the two-hour drive. We are rewarded with magnificient views of northern Patagonia and arrive in lively El Bolson.

At the bus station, we wait on line and, luckily, we're able to buy tickets for the few last seats on the 6:50 return bus. In between, we have a full day to enjoy the market; Nate got a haircut; we found a natural food store; I bought a beautiful mate gourd and bombilla (see photo).

The market kept us occupied checking out the artisan crafts and foods.

For dinner, we made delicious empanadas and a hearty soup.

On Wednesday, we're off to Chile.

PRW

Beautiful Bariloche

Eleven hours and this has to be the quietest plane ride that I've ever had. No routy tour groups. No fussy toddlers. No cranky babies.

Just as I doze off for my night's slumber on the way from NY to Buenos Aires, I hear an announcement that there is an electrical problem on the aircraft.

Too late for me to process that info, I'm nearly in dreamland. But, wait, my conscious self fights back -- isn't an electrical problem something we don't want on an airplane? !! But, sleep wins over rational thought. I'm out like a lamp.

When I do awake after a deep sleep, it's still eerily quiet. I soon discover the consequences of the "electrical problem" on the aircraft -- no cabin lights. So, all the books that I lugged on board for the long flight will remain unopened, the Sudoku and crossword puzzles will remain unsolved. Just lots of time to contemplate the quiet.

I arrive in BA early. I had allowed plenty of time to transfer to the domestic airport. So, I ignore the advice that I had been given to take a taxi and decide to venture there via bus. I get through customs in a breeze, am able to make myself understood well enough to get to an ATM and purchase my bus ticket to Newbery airport.

I still have an hour-and-half wait for the next bus. This gives me time enough to finish Dreams from my Father. I get so engrossed in President Obama's narrative of his trip to Kenya. So engrossed that when someone stops to chat I forget where I am. At first, I don't understand. Oh, wait, he's speaking Spanish. I'm not in Africa. I can understand.

The flight to Bariloche was also packed but this time with lots of active kiddies and cute babies. No matter; it's just a two-hour hop. And, as soon as I get to the baggage area, I see Alisa and Nate through the glass partition. How wonderful! How happy I am to be here with them.

We have a short taxi ride to Bariloche, then hop on a bus for a walk home (thanks, Nate and Alisa for carrying my bags), terrific homemade pizza dinner (oops, I forgot to take photos), and then a nice night's sleep.

I'll post photos later. It's just great to be here.

Perfectly Rested Well-fed

Leaving on a jet plane...

My bags are packed and I'm ready to go...

OK, here it is -- I'm a bit clueless about Argentina. When I tell people I'm going to Argentina, everyone seems to have a thought to share -- great tango, the best gelato, spectacular scenery, the charming and/or insufferable Buenos Aireans, the excellent exchange rate, wine, leather products, etc.

But, the truth is, I'm really just not that into Argentina. I am very much into going to visit Alisa and Nate. Of course, I'm not complaining about having to go to Argentina. And, I'm very excited to be able to experience the wonderful things there.

Anyway, I have an 11-hour flight ahead of me to read my guide book and get really psyched about all that I'm about to see. No need for me to get psyched about this trip, however. I'm there already.

So, dreaming about the days to come ...

PRW