Day 3: Reykjavik; The non-tourist's view

We had dinner with an Icelandic one-time coworker of my mom’s and her family.

(Given their reputation for stoicism, I would have thought most Icelanders would be stand-offish, but everyone we’ve met is very approachable. The one problem with talking to them, however, is I have never felt more illiterate than when trying to pronounce Icelandic names and street names).

Food

I made sure to get sheep’s head jelly on buttered rye flatbread. The jelly seemed to be strips of congealed meat and had a light flavor. The Icelandic family reminded us that this sort of traditional Viking food is only eaten at an annual holiday. The proper way to eat putrefied shark’s fin, they said, is to take a bite so you can say you did it, then drown out the flavor with a shot of alcohol.

Sheep's head jelly

Speaking of alcohol, here’s the story behind the beer ban: like the U.S., Iceland had a time of prohibition (1915-1935). Spain caused the downfall of this, refusing to buy Icelandic fish unless Iceland would buy Spanish wine. So Iceland decided to permit wine and spirits, either forgetting about beer or assuming no one drank it anyway. From 1935 until 1989, beer over 2.25% was outlawed. (What was legal was Icelandic’s national drink a 40% alcohol potato spirit called brennivin).

But beer started to be allowed for tourists, and became available in duty free stores, and on international plane flights. One Icelandic man, David Scheving Thorsteinsson, bought beer in a duty free shop then demand that he be arrested for bringing it into Iceland. The authorities complied, and in his subsequent trial David* argued that the ban was unconstitutional; the court agreed. (This info’s from the Icelandic family, Wikipedia, and the New York Times)

*Look at me being all Icelandic and referring to people by first names. It feels weird.

So what do Icelanders actually eat? Pizza, candy, hot dogs, lamb cuts, and coca cola. One daughter told me Iceland has the most Domino’s and the most coke drinkers per capita. When Domino’s and candy stores drop prices to half-off, lines stretch outside the store. People line up outside the candy stores at midnight before the day candy goes on sale, she said. (Yet Icelanders look pretty healthy. Maybe they burn more calories in the cold. Maybe they’re just athletic. One thing that’s not just for tourists: outdoor adventure. Camping in particularly is popular).

So what do Icelanders do?

I feel like I see so little of Icelanders, even being in the capital. I’ve been having trouble envisioning how they spend their days, so I asked about the major industries here. The answer: fishing, pharmaceutical work (for one major company, I believe), tourism (a growing industry), and aluminum processing (outsourced to here to take advantage of the cheap energy). Many companies make goods for export.

Sleepy America

Like Argentines, Icelanders party late. Though they don’t drink during the week, on the weekend they hit bars around midnight or 2am, and the bars stay open to 4am or later. Mark that down as one more country shocked by USA’s early closing times.

Hidden Folks: Hard to Find what Doesn’t Exist

My mom’s ex-coworker and her family live in Hafnarfjordur, where we visited yesterday. No one my generation or my parents’ generation actually believe in elves, I was told. People keep talking about elves because it draws tourists. We weren’t shocked to hear this, but we did mention the news articles that keep telling how a construction company changed the route of a planned road in order to dodge an elf house. Sure, she agreed, if an old woman’s really upset and says there’s an elf house, why wouldn’t you just build around it?

Christmas Trolls

There are thirteen Santa Clauses in Iceland who come down from the mountains, one at a time. For each of the thirteen days after Christmas, one Santa leaves, returning home. Their mother is a troll and if you are a naughty Icelandic child, she doesn’t give you coal, she just eats you.

Education and Kids

In Iceland, kids go to the same school from elementary to 10^th grade. Next they attend a 4 year school, where the last two years are a bit more like college: in one daughter’s school at least, they could choose to concentrate more heavily in science or language and completed a thesis (for business interests, they’d have to make a start-up company). After that, 3 years of college.

The drinking age is the same as in the U.S., but you can’t drive until 17.

Costs

While food is costly and many goods more expensive because they have to be imported, geothermal energy means electricity is cheap. Also cheap: healthcare (all prices are capped or nonexistent, minus a small co-pay) and college.

Government

The current mayor of Reykjavik used to be an actor and comedian; he was elected partially out of a search for change by those disgruntled by the economic crisis. Apparently he dresses in drag at the annual gay pride parades and he dressed as a Jedi to meet Lady Gaga.

In other more photograph-friendly news, we visited Arbaejarsafn, what Lonely Planet calls a “zoo for houses”. It’s a collection of various house styles from the 19^th century, built on an old farm.  It was traditional to build turf around your house:

Traveler’s Tips

The house zoo is free and tours are at 1pm.

Café Loki has traditional Viking food – the sheep’s head jelly, and a taster of putrefied shark’s fin (I didn’t try this, because, alas, no one would share it with me. Perhaps your travel companions will be less wise than mine were).

Harry’s is a nice seafood and Filipino food restaurant the family recommended.

Day 2: Reykjavik

Capital City

It was a bit of a surprise to discover that the area I'm staying is in Reykjavik’s downtown.  Many of the streets are only wide enough to admit one or two cars, bordered by wide sidewalks, cafés, houses, and small shops. Most buildings are colored concrete or corrugated tin walls with steeped corrugated tin roofs. Though most houses look similar, they distinguish themselves with colorings of their roofs and walls, most being red, blue, yellow, white, and/or grays. The day started out in the low 40’s (F) and rose to the 50’s. It’s been a bright, sunny day with remarkably fresh air.

In the morning, we visited a church called Hallgrímskirkja where, for a fee, we took an elevator up into the clock tower and looked out at the city. Reykjavik is a seaside city, ringed in the distance by snowcapped mountains. The effect is beautiful and makes the city feel exposed, a vulnerable patch of humanity allowed to exist on this rocky land because, for the moment, the environment is willing to humor humans.

Genetic Database

In 1998, Iceland created a genetic database, Íslendingabók, that maps the enter population’s genealogical information extending back over 1,200 years. (The database gets interesting reference in Arnaldur Indrioason’s Icelandic mystery novel Jar City).

 In 2000, Iceland seems to have sold the rights to access the database to deCODE, a US biotech company. Iceland’s been pretty isolated (which has interesting results, such as modern Icelandic being so close to old Nordic they can read the original Norse sagas, and Iceland mostly playing traditional styles of music until rock reached them). This also means it’s a great genetic sample for studying genetic diseases; deCODE has been able to develop drugs to combat heart disease, strokes, and asthma, and now offers them free to Icelanders. This deal may have been part of settlement after the database was declared unconstitutional in 2004; however, the database still exists.

Today’s Reykjavik Grapevine (a entertainment/tourist focused free newspaper) reports that deCODE celebrated its 10^th anniversary with the Incest Spoiler alert, a joke smart phone app. The idea is that before going home together Icelanders can answer a few questions on their phone, at which point either an alarm goes off telling them they’re too closely related, or a message encourages them to get it on. One columnist was pretty pissed off because apparently, international news got wind of this app and have been reporting as if Iceland is a pool of incest and this app is all that stands between them and genetic disaster.

Food

A classic food every guidebook mentions is Harofiskur, dried salted haddock. I found it at the grocery store and it tastes exactly as I should have expected – tough (it’s dried), salty (it’s salted) and with a fishy aftertaste (it’s fish). So. That’s a food then.

Food’s expensive in Iceland.

Saga Museum: Settling

The Saga Museum provided a collection of choice anecdotes on Icelandic settlers.

Originally, Irish monks found the island and stayed there because its isolation meant nothing would interrupt their studying. When “heathen” Norse arrived, the monks decided to ditch rather than stay in such company. Later, Vikings raiders would enslave Irish; so many so that at the time 20% of the men and 50% of the women in Iceland were Celtic (the rest were Norse).

Early Norsemen navigated by noting the flights of migrating birds in spring and autumn. The first Norseman to land on Iceland, Flóki Vigerdarson, took three ravens on his ship to use in navigation. Then all his livestock died and he left. Eventually a man called Ingolfor permanently settled in Iceland.

Saga Museum: Let’s Have a Religion

Iceland was divided between Christianity and belief in the Norse gods. In 1000AD the government decided they needed one religion so as not to divide the country.  A single member of the government, himself “heathen” as the museum called it, chose Christianity, but said some heathen laws would stand and that you could practice what you wanted in private. If you were caught, the punishment was three year’s exile. The last Catholic bishop in Iceland, Jon Arasson, was beheaded in 1550; against traditional Christian rules, he had many kids and most of Iceland is related to him.

Saga Museum: Let’s Have a Government

Most immigrants to Iceland came feeling oppressive European kings, and so they approached choosing a government with care. They ended up with the first Parliament, all members unpaid save for the Law Speaker, whose job was to memorize and recite all of the country’s laws. Writing was adopted around the time of the conversion to Christianity and laws recorded in books.

Saga Museum: Let’s all Die

In 1402 a ship from England under Einar Herjolsson brought the black plague. A third of Iceland died, but Einar was fine.

Saga Museum: Witches!

The first killed in Iceland’s witch hunt was a nun in 1343. Unlike most other countries, men were most often accused of witchery.

Get the View

The Hallgrímskirkja church is a nice view, but really, you want to go to Perlan/The Saga Museum (it’s the same building). While the church top let’s you peak out of barred windows, the Pearl has an outside walkway, offering an uninterrupted panoramic of Reykjavik (plus it’s free, while the church charges $7/person to enter the tower).

Food

Food’s pricey here but not quite as pricey as it looks (I was assuming an Icelandic krona was 100th of a dollar, but it's more like 100 krona = US$0.81).  It's about US$3.65 for a cappuccino or latte, and US $10.00 for a bowl of lobster soup.

Saga Museum

It’s about US $20/person, which includes an audio guide. It’s a small museum for the price. The audio-guide tells you anecdotes and tidbits of settler history while you look at wax sculptures in traditional dress and there’s a video explaining how the sculptures were made.

Mendoza: Bicycle Tour

 The land of bikes and wine is a nearby town called Maipú. (Having lived in Buenos Aires, I started to realize that Argentina obsessively recycles street and town names. No, towns don’t have a main street. But they almost all have an Uruguay street, or a Maipú, or a Yrigoyen. Every province and town pulls its name from a very limited set of sources: Argentinean presidents, nearby countries, and Argentinean provinces. Occasionally I’ll be surprised by a John F. Kennedy street, but never something so useful as School Street, or even anything as descriptive as Fountain Road. Someone, somewhere, is just not trying).

Visiting places dedicated to getting you tipsy, or at least show you a good way to get tipsy later, and in between traveling around on a vehicle entirely dedicated to balance sounded charming. And it was. Fortunately, the travel time between wineries was long enough that I never got really affected, though some other tourists did. (For the most part, Stephanie and I biked around alone, though occasionally we met up with other tourists making the same popular trip. Being foreigners together makes people amazingly friendly).

The places to go

            1. Our first stop was Museo del Vino La Rural, a free museum that gave us a tour of the history of wine making, their own groves, and finished off with a glass of their home-made (well, museum-made) wine. This sweet red wine was one of my favorites from the trip. Both informative and experiential, with a lot to see, this museum was a good place to start of the trip. Especially because I didn’t drink wine often, and really didn’t know anything about it except that it somehow makes you classy.

History

Here’s what I’ve learned about wine (from Museo del Vino La Rural and Familia Di Tomaso tours). Wine – and grapes – came over to Argentina from Europe, notably with Jesuit missionaries in the 1560s. The Spanish brought the first wine, but the French brought the grapes used to make Malbec, Argentina’s most famous variety.

Originally, grapes would be picked by hand and collected in large leather sacks, which didn’t coddle the grapes very well, and let a lot get smushed, and the remaining grapes would be juiced by being stamped on. Later, around 1850, they upgraded to scissors to cut grapes off the vines, and hand-cranked machines to crush the grapes and extract the juice.

            It takes about 2 kilos of grapes to make one bottle of wine, although of course, the amount varies by the type of wine. Red wine uses both the skins and the juice, while white wine only uses the juice (hence the light color). Nowadays the left over skins are used as fertilizers or to make oils.

Is it good?

Wine quality varies based on how the ratio of skin and juice used, how much of the sugar’s been let turn into alcohol (you can rate on how sweet it is, how smooth it is, and on how fast it gets you drunk), and what kind of oak (if any) has been used to age it.

Growing

Roses are planted at the front of each row of grape plants to act as basically the canary in the mine. If the rose plant starts to die, chances are you’ve got a pest that will attack your grapes next. One grape plant, at least in regards to Malbec, is good for 50 years. After that, it loses its sugar content.

Aging

Argentina has no oak of its own, and imports from the US and France, and, to a lesser extent, China. Wine ages as it is allowed access to air, which is granted by the space between the barrel’s slats and by the pores in the cork. (This is why wine bottles are stored pointing down, so the wine stays in contact with the cork). Admittedly, the more it’s exposed to air, the sooner it turns to vinegar, but with barrels and corks, the affect here is negligent. If you deliberately don’t want wine to age, you can use a plastic cork. Don’t think you can dump your wine in your basement then pull it out decades later. Malbec wine only last 3-5 years before it becomes vinegar.

The oak also gives extra flavor and aroma to the wine, which really does a lot for the experience. To give a smokier flavor to the wine, wineries might toast the wood. French oak adds flavors of tobacco and coffee, while American offers vanilla and coco. (French oak is actually stronger and harder than American, another tidbit useful in distinguishing them). Some makers will mix the wood in their barrels, alternating slats of each tip of oak.

            Proto-wine, my term for the juice (and perhaps skin) mixture that hasn’t yet become a drink, needs to sit until 25% off its sugar becomes alcohol. It takes about 20 days for white proto-wine to mature to real wine status, and needs to be kept at 10 degrees Celsius. Red wine ferments in about 10-15 days, at 20 or 25 degrees Celsius (room temperature). The temperature of the wine rises during fermentation.

The process seems interesting, and if it didn’t take so long/cost so much (I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t have oak), I’d try my hand at wine-making.

2.             We next stopped at Entre Olivos, which had tastings of olive oils, jams, dulce de leche, and other spreads. Many of their spreads were fantastic, especially a coconut dulce de leche. The place also included liquor tasting in the price. Some of the flavors were nicely sweet and thick, but we were surprised to realize they went down a little rough. The best (smoothest) liquors we tasted in Mendoza were offered at just a random artisanal booth in a median in the city street.

3.  Our next stop was Familia di Tomaso, recommended to us by the bike rental place. This stop was particularly great because, in addition to a brief tour of the winery, which seems to have been in the family for generations, they sat us down and showed us how to taste wine. First, they brought out an un-aged Malbec. Smell it, then swirl it around and smell it again, our guide told us. Now you’ve released the alcohol scent. Our guide described the Malbec as a fruity red wine, with a light flavor of plums and other fruits. They followed it up with a Malbec aged 6 months, which simply had more to it. The scent was spicier and the flavor fuller, smoother, and more subdued, with darker undertones. In one of the other wines, he told us to notice the tannins. This compound, found in the grape skins, dries out the inside of your mouth. I did feel a dryness or a puckering inside my mouth, but that could easily just be due to drinking so much wine. We also tried a dessert wine, which most of the tourists loved; to me it tasted like the cough syrup I had as a kid.

4.  We stopped by a few others, but at some point, all wineries seem the same. They all offer tastings of the classic wines like Malbec, and a tour. We decided not to explore many of the wineries, as we’d already got a fair education in.

 We stopped at just one more winery (I think it was Trapiche). This one gave us 4 full glasses of wine to split. I jotted down notes as I tasted, because for me, I process the experience better and pay more attention if I’m trying to explain it. Merlot was a dark red wine, thicker than Mablec, with a richer, although bitter flavor. It was less fruity than Malbec as well. For comparison we tried a light purple wine called Syrah. The flavor was lighter as well, lighter than Malbec, and acidic and citrusy. None of the wines we’d had that day had been white, so we ordered Torrentes and Chardonnay. Torrentes we were obliged to try, because it’s unique to Argentina. I didn’t particularly like either of these; they just seemed to have less flavor than the reds (but Stephanie insists these were poor samples). The Torrentes was a light gold, and bitter. It had a weaker flavor than the Chardonay, which tasted slightly acidic and smelled slightly fruity.

5.  Our final stop was Historias and Sabores which did not have much in the way of historias, but held through on the sabores (flavors) promise. I was still curious in liquors so we stopped here to try a few and try their spreads. It was a picturesque little place, with a patio outside the small storefront, and a view into their garden and grape vines. Their most interesting item: a thick syrupy Malbec spread.

All in all, I feel like my Mendoza trip was a lot of trying food, and wandering outside. A nice relaxing break after farming, and a nice way to end my time in Argentina. The next night I spent on a bus back to Buenos Aires, then I hit the airport insanely, irrationally early, and returned to the USA on an overnight flight.

Travelers’ Tips:

Bicycle Tour

Mendoza is famous for its wine, and, in the tourism world, almost as famous for its biking-wine tours. There are a few ways you can go about this: you can pay your hostel to “organize” the trip, or you can go straight to the nearby town of Maipú and do it yourself. Back to useful information: at least with my hostel, what you get when you pay is a car to come pick up you (and anyone else paying for the same service) and drive you to Maipú, pick you up again the end time the service has chosen, and rent you your bicycle. It’s honestly just a waste of money. Your other option is to take a normal city bus  (number 173) to Maipú (costing about AR $2), and once there, rent the bike yourself from one of the numerous shops. It’s been a while since the trip, so my memory for prices may be off, but I believe the organized trip cost about AR$90 and the bike rental itself only AR $25.

I rented a bike from a place called Mr. Hugo, which is immediately across the street from the bus stop. The bikes were pretty good and the seats relatively easy to adjust by yourself. I saw helmets there, which I presume they’ll give if you ask; I honestly just forgot. Some bikes had a basket in the front, so if you didn’t bring a backpack and want to pick up souvenirs, that’s a good option.  They give you a glass of wine at the end of your trip, and a brief map of places at the beginning.

Most bodegas (wineries) cost AR $20 for tasting and a tour.

If you’re hungry for empanadas, stop by the Beer Garden off of Mitre street: they’re made fresh and in meat and vegetarian varieties. Be prepared to wait though. 

Tourists like lists (or so I hope)

I think it's time to give a shot at writing something more touristy, so here goes: a set of list and tips for anyone vacationing in the city.

The Fairs, ranked

1.     Ferria de Los Inmigrantes – this is not a regular fair, but if you’re around in September, it makes a great lunch spot.  You won’t get the South American feel, because countries like India, Germany, Russia, and more are represented in the booths, but this fair is one of the few not aimed at tourists. Whereas San Telmo is teeming with souveneirs, the main things to buy here are food, and hats, clothes, and trinkets from other countries. What makes this fair stand out is the dancing. A stage is set up in front of a perfect picnic spot, with dancing and singing throughout the day. Smaller dances seem to break out randomly among costumed members of other booths.

2.     Ferria de los Matadores: There’s dancing at this fair, too, though it’s less diverse. The dance is a folklore style, accompanied by music, and I heard rumor that sometimes the fair has horse tricks, though I was disappointed to find they weren’t happening the day I went. It seems to be luck of the draw what you’ll get to see. While this fair is also touristy, full of leather belts, wooden flutes, chocolate, cheap bread, and alcohol, the prices are excellent (a bottle of wine for 13 pesos, for instance).

3.     San Telmo fair: This fair happens every Sunday and is notable for its sheer size. The fair consumes several city blocks in many directions, and you can walk for hours still seeing new things. It is a very touristy fair, and there’s a pressure to shop for souvenirs the whole time. Here and there in the fair will be musicians playing guitar or even on a metal bowl, and mimes for children. Some cool highlights were boxes made out of a single orange peel, the ubiquitous soft wool sweaters with llama designs, and some delicious homemade pastries from a woman pushing a cart.

4.     Tigre’s Fruit Fair: this fair on the river offers good fruit smoothies, and a large collection of items ranging from earrings to furniture in the nearby shops. None of it’s items are truly unique, but you can get cheap yerba in bulk, and lots of fruit.

5.     Ferria Recoleta at Plaza Francia: This is another weekly fair, and a nice place to peruse on the way to the cemetery or one of the nearby art museums. All the products are touristy, meaning a quick way to pick up souvenirs, but a bit pricier just for that reason. You’ll find things like mate gourds, leather belts, and shirts.

6.     Gay Pride Parade: This gets listed last because it’s a special, one-day event. From buttons to alfajores, everything’s rainbow, and you’ll see some “intriguing” costumes.

If you’re interested in shopping, there are always the malls her (called “Shoppings” by the Argentines), but they’re likely to be pricey. They’re much more elegant and elaborate places than those of the U.S., and if you decide just to go to check it out, it may feel like you’re walking in a hotel.

Best Museums

1.     Evita Museo: If you love culture, this is for you.

2.     MALBA: a Latin American arts museum with a huge and diverse collection, ranging from traditional to abstract and modern.

3.     Museo Bellas Artes

4.     Recoleta Centro Cultural

5.     Trelew: Egidio Feruglio Museo: a small museum, good for an hour or so, but with impressively complete dinosaur skeletons.

6.     San Antonio de Areco: Gaucho Museo: Ok

7.     San Antonio de Areco: Cultural Museo: Don’t even bother, though it costs about one dollar and no guards will stop you from touching all the exhibits.

Transport

1. In the Hand: Buy yourself a Guía T and figure out how to use it. The bus stops are confusing, as the book will only tell you what street to look on, not what intersection, but it’s the best hardcopy map I’ve been able to find.

2. On the computer: To get a closer idea of where bus stops are, look at the routes and the bus suggetions online at http://mapa.buenosaires.gov.ar/

3. On the streets: The train (subte) runs quickly and until 10:30pm. After that, you’ve got to find a bus, or give in and take a taxi. Only take Radio Taxis, because sometimes you can end up with a bogus taxi who will rip you off, or worse.

Food

1.     Lentil stew: it’s delicious; a thick stew, often with chunks of potato and beef.

2.     Mandioca: this root actually comes from Paraguay, but is popular here, no doubt for it’s complex texture. “Chipas” are a dense, bagel-shaped food made from mandioca flour.

3.     Alfajores: you’re obliged to try some, and they won’t be hard to find, whether you grab a packaged one from a kiosko or buy a fancier version at a bakery, and they vary a lot. The best I’ve had are AlfajOreos (this doesn’t really count: it’s more like a tall Oreo sandwich in a chocolate shell), maicena alfajores (soft cookies, thick dulce de leche filling, and rolled in shredded coconut), and a Vaquía brand alfajore well filled with a liquid Cappuccino filling.

4.     Empanadas: as with alfajores, you haven’t been to Argentina if you haven’t tried one of these. They come in a huge variety, the most common being stuffed with ground beef or ham and cheese. I recommend corn or caprese-filled ones.

Bars:

I’m afraid I haven’t been to many, so this list will be short, sweet, and under-informed.

1. Acabar: board games, restaurant, and bar. What else could you want? Try the “Spare Time” drink: it’s neon blue and sweet. What else could you want?

2. El Alamo: my favorite straight-up bar, because the people are friendly and mix easily. You can get about 2 liters of beer for ridiculously cheap (I’d guess $5), if you’re into that sort of thing.

3. Jobs: another board game bar, far more elaborate than the other. There’s pool tables, darts, and, if you go on the right days (Saturday, Tuesday, Thursday), even archery. If you arrive before midnight you can skip the 30 peso cover charge and get a free pizza.

4.Shamrock: An Irish pub that varies a lot by the day; can be so crowded it’s a fight to get drinks, or can be a good time.

5.Le Bar: I can’t say much for the drinks, because I didn’t order one, but the ambience is nice. The seating is sunk into the floors, the lights are low, and you can go on the roof. The time I went there was a band, too.

Alfajores

Alfajores are one of the most traditional, popular Argentinean foods. These cookie-sandwiches are filled with dulce de leche, jam, or mousse, and often covered in chocolate or rolled in coconut flakes. You can find them in individual aluminum packaging in any of the ubiquitous kioskosos, but to be honest, those aren’t that good.  Besides serving as a quick chocolate-fix, any of kiosko alfajores’ other merits get drowned between the sheer feeling of being awful for you. There is something about the thick, chalky cookie layers that makes me want to apologize to my arterires. And yet, I persevere, and every now and again try a new type, because, damnit, when it comes to being a porteña, liking alfajores is right up there with dancing tango while drinking mate and painting yourself the colors of Boca fútbol. Finally, tonight, it all became worth it.

Some friends and I set to making alfajores. Now, there are many types, and alfajores have come a long way from the almost healthy originals – a Spanish-Arabic treat consisting of honey, almonds, walnuts, and dried fruit wrapped in a dough cylinder and rolled in sugar or more dried fruit. When the Spanish came to the Americas, they thought more about conquering and extracting silver than about where had good alfajor ingredients, and as a result, had to change their recipe. Judging from the modern candy-cookie concoctions, that recipe changed a lot. Each province and country has it’s own alfajor recipe. Nicaragua makes a brownie-like pastry using cocoa, molasses, and corn meal, and slaps on the “alfajor” name, while in la Salta province they fill the cookie-sandwiches with a honey meringue, Santa Fe province employs crunch cookies brimming over with filling, and health food stores are testing out whole-grain and rice-based cookies. Buenos Aires is all about dulce de leche, and usually the cookies you can get in bakeries are spongy or like shortbread.

We choose a recipe for cornstarch alafjores (I know, doesn’t sound appetizing, but bear with me).  Here were our ingredients (we halved this, and came out with about 11 sandwiches):

5 oz (150 g) softened butter

7 oz (200 g) sugar

2 egg yolks

1 egg

3.5 oz (100 g) flour

 10.5 oz (300 g) corn starch

1 tsp baking soda

Shredded coconut

a few spoonfuls of apple puree

cinnamon

a spoon or two of honey

The apple puree and cinnamon were our own additions, trying to make a very bland tasting (but wonderfully creamy-textured) batter more sweet and flavorful.

We stole our recipe from a blog:http://anatravels.org/2011/06/27/alfajores-de-maizena/, but I’ll repost it here, with our changes.

Process:

1. Heat the oven on low, or about 300 degrees.

2. “Beat the softened butter with the sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the egg yolks and the egg and beat well.”

Measuring in grams? Get me out of this crazy country!!

3.”Sift together the flour, corn starch and baking soda and gradually add to the butter and egg mixture.” Stir in apple sauce and honey and sprinkle on cinnamon.

4. The dough was so wet, we found it easiest to dollop it directly on to a tray and smooth into a circle shape, instead of rolling out first, like the recipe recommends. Be careful to space your cookies apart – ours spread into each others. You can easy fix this, though, by cutting out shapes or using a mug to cut out circles.

     
Even in Latin America that's just not enough personal space

5. Cook for about 12 minutes. You’re advised not to let the cookies turn a gold color, although I’d recommend letting your cookies get on the crispy side. The cookies on our bottom rack cooked more than the ones on top, until they had a brown edge, and this made them firmer and more flavorful.

6. Filling: After letting your cookies cool, spread a filling between them, and sandwich two together. (It’s basically s’mores minus the marshmallow). We used dulce de leche, melted chocolate, and/or a mixture of peanut butter, milk, and honey. If you want, pour some chocolate over the top. Whatever you do, don’t forget to roll it in shredded coconut. I accidentally dumped a mound of coconut on top of mine, as thick as one of the cookies, and I almost died of happiness.

An alfajor, cut in half. It may not look fancy, but . . . 

. . . the results speak for themselves.

Día 17 - 23: Mate, Politics, and Cowboys (with a dash of death, and a side of tango)

I.   Día 17: Mate

I just finished curing my mate with mixed results. The vessel you drink from is called a “mate” (it’s also sometimes called a word that can also mean “penis”; This doesn’t make sense on many levels). My mate is made of a gourd, but you can also buy wood, plastic, or metal mates. Gourds and wood are the most popular and have different tastes. To prepare the drink, you fill the mate about 2/3 of the way with yerba leaves. You need to leave room, because the leaves will swell when heated. Shake the mate to mix up the yerba (add sugar if you like), and shake so the yerba makes a diagonal line within the gourd (not a straight line). This is supposed to ensure that not all the yerba gets wet at once, so the flavor lasts longer. Then, add the water, at about 90 degrees Celsius – if you pour water too hot, you’ll lose the taste as well. The bombilla is a special straw with a filter so you don’t suck up yerba (except, apparently, 8 peso ones don’t do this; buy a 30 peso one). 

Traditionally, one person has a mate gourd that they pass around. Each person drinks all the water, then passes the mate back to the owner, who refills it from a thermos, and passes it to someone else. I’ve encountered this in an Anthro class I sat in on, where one girl maintained the mate the whole class (I’m not sure she ever paused to take notes), and my Creative Writing teacher explained it today. It feels rather rude, but you shouldn’t say “thank you” unless you don’t want anymore.

To prepare your mate the first time, you’re supposed to cure it, which really just ensures you have a better taste. The general idea is to let your gourd absorb the flavor of the yerba more strongly. (I suppose it’s how ceramic tea pots will take on the flavor of their tea, and so – I assume - enhance the flavor of ensuing cups). Raquel’s boyfriend’s dad suggested brewing yerba in the new mate and letting it sit for three days. The internet suggested rinsing it the mate with water, letting it dry, then brushing the inside with sugar, brewing yerba for a day, dumping out the yerba, cutting any loose skin off the inside of the gourd, and repeating the process. I chose to let my first batch brew for two days, then cut loose skin and brew another day. Trying it now, it’s not the best mate, but then that could be the result of the brand of yerba I bought or the suboptimal straw.

II. Día 22: San Antonio 

Sunday I visited San Antonio de Areco, which I had heard described as a cowboy town, two hours from Buenos Aires by bus. It’s a nice small town, more enjoyable for its pretty river and relaxing atmosphere than for any particular event we did there. Upscale silver workshops are popular, as our horse rides for tourists. 

We went to a museum that was an old cowboy farm, and also stopped by the guide-book famous La Olla de Cobre chocolate store, which had a line down the block and was crowded, likely with fellow tourists. For my own tourist advice I’d say it’s fine to skip it; it smells awesome, but save for a piece of cinnamon chocolate I tried (which gave quite a kick), what I tried wasn’t particularly special, and mostly I found it too sweet.

          La Olla de Cobre ("The Copper Pot")

III. Día 23: Tango

The World Tango festival is in Buenos Aires this week, and the previous one. I went to see a competition today, in which partners dance in a circle, showing off their moves to four judges, and slowly get eliminated. Most of the dancers were young (the women often younger than the men) and from Argentina, Colombia, or Japan.

 Masterful photograpy. A TV screen highlighted one pair at a time.

Clothing seems to be important in tango, more for women than men. Men need to guide the dance, which they do largely through one hand on the woman’s back. The woman adds flourish, showing off fancier footwork. A dress that reveals her legs and is slim around the hips seems to show off the finesse of her leg movements well. There was however, one woman dancing in pants.

IV. Día 21: Death

Friday I saw the Recoleta Cemetery. The walled-in cemetery is like a ghost town of tombs, full of grand statues and marbled works. A few tray cats live there. Today it seems creepy to look into a tomb stacked full of your family’s coffins, and note that your own will soon be added, but I suppose in older times it may have been comforting to have a tradition and a sense of order in death. Still, I think this sort of cemetery adds a more personal touch than a gravestone.

V.     Politics

Last Sunday was the primary elections. Cristina had to run to qualify for the final elections, and the opposition candidates had to compete to be the one to run against her. Apparently, it was a huge election. It was a vote for the president, governor, mayor, national congress, provincial congress, and local representative. and you had to vote not just for which party for each seat, but for which candidate from each party. Parties don’t select just one representative, anyone can run, and the Peronist party had 5 candidates for mayor. The majority of the candidates shown on TV were men, but there were a number of women candidates.  One teacher told us that in the vote there were over 30 pages of names of candidates. Argentina also uses a paper vote, but somehow got all the tickets counted an hour after voting closed.

Cristina won in a landside, taking over 50% of the population, but not everyone was happy. Why not vote Cristina? I’ve heard that the upper classes, have complained that Cristina is basically stealing money from citizens in taxes, then using the cash to bribe the poor into voting for her. The issue is not that Cristina gives money directly to the poor, she doesn’t make systems to support those in poverty (or so I’m told).   For instance, Cristina gives money to families for each kid they send to school. This can be seen as helping support families who will have a kid studying instead of working, or it can be seen as a bribe. I’ve also heard rumor of corruption, and claims that while Cristina took 400 million pesos to build houses for the homeless, only 20 were ever constructed (I haven’t fact checked this).

Whether or not Cristina uses the money optimally, one professor tells me, it does save lives, especially now that mass unemployment has hit two generations of Argentineans.  This professor who seemed to respect Cristina Kirchner voted against her, partly because she’s tired of political offices staying in the hands of the city of Buenos Aires, and would prefer a candidate from the interior. In general, Buenos Aires city seems to rule the province of Buenos Aires, and in the past has been compared to a parasite on the larger province.

Voting is required in Buenos Aires, and if people are sick or had work that prevented them from voting, they have to get a certificate officially excusing them. Most shops and businesses are closed on Sunday, for religious reasons, so this should minimize the number of people who need to be excused. Still, on Sunday I saw a line stretching down 2 city blocks or more of people waiting for their certificate.

Día 6-8: Pretty Places

Today Kiki and I found a beautiful café/bookstore in Sur Palermo, one of my new favorite neighborhoods. A lot of restaurants have newspapers and magazines you can borrow, which is an awesome idea. The area here is older, with cobblestone roads, and is full of huge parks. We went with the group on a bike tour for a few hours. On Friday, I went to an estancia (a farm) out in the country. They had bikes for us there, too. The bikes had wide curving handlebars and simple construction (backpedal to break, none of this fancy 21speed nonsense). The simplicity of the bikes and the sunny countryside was so whimsical, it was like being in a movie. I felt like I should be bringing a baguette to a picnic or having a charming adventure.

Sometimes Argentina feels like it has the advertisements and energy of New York, but with much more greenery, space, and calmer people. No one is ever on time.

Later today, I tried the famed Argentinean pizza. It’s quite tasty and not greasy. One type I tried had a thick corn-based crust, which was interesting. After the tour, I went with a friend to see the Centro Cultural Recoleta, an art museum. One awesome thing about Argentineans’ nightlife is that museums are still open at 9pm. In front was a crafts fair in the Recoleta neighborhood, where we bought mate (gourds for drinking yerba mate, a immensely popular drink here). I’ve heard even gas stations advertise hot water for refilling your mate; everyone seems to drink it (museum guards, our staff, etc.) but no cafes or restaurants seem to serve it. I tried it at the estancia. It tastes like strong green tea. 

                                                                        Mate

Yesterday I went on a city bus tour, and tried a tango class. They broke the steps down immensely for us, so while what we’re doing looks nothing like tango, we’re also not crying at how hard it is. Not yet.

One interesting thing here is pub/club culture. I was again at the Irish Pub on Friday, and I begin to get the feeling people go to bars mainly to flirt. Clubs certainly are ridiculous that way. I’ve heard about men at clubs trying to make out with girls after one dance or using rather blatant pick up lines like, “What’s your favorite sex position?” Men here certainly push more and more obviously, because women dismiss them much more easily, and I think it’s just a more sexual culture. PDA is big here. People make out in parks, on the street, on the bus, and are generally more touchy. There were two Americans near me at the bar, and the Argentinean I was talking to told that the man must be gay, because it had been a whole hour and he hadn’t kissed the girl. I tried to explain it was a cultural difference . . ..

Día 4 +5: Part 1: Eat, Drink, and Check your Watch

This one turned out to be a long entry so I’ll give you section titles, in case you don’t want to read it all. (But you guys love everything I write, right? right??)

1. Time:

Yesterday, I bought a phone, a very slow process, but then, time is different in Buenos Aires. Today, some friends waited almost half an hour for the waiter to bring them tea (first he brought them cups, then when reminded brought them cold water instead of tea). He wasn’t apologetic at all, but sort of found the mistake funny. (We were at Gran Café Tortoni, it’s very fancy and culturally important, I’m told). There’s no word for procrastinating in Spanish, or so a native tells me. I almost went to an art show today, but it started half an hour late, and I had to go home to dinner. Thus is life here, a mix of relaxed and chaotic. There’s less stress over time, and less order.

2. Bar

Last night Gia, Kelly, Victoria and I went to a bar called Shamrock. (Apparently the only bars I go to are Irish pubs in foreign countries; this was my second bar experience). It was crowded, and an odd place to be. All the tables had long been taken, and people stood in masses, a fair mix of men and women, probably in their 30’s or late 20’s. To get a drink we had to maneuver our way against crowd at the bar and call a waiter, which did take a bit. If you wanted more than one drink, the waiter gave you a ticket to use with your drink written on it. Happy hour seemed to be at 11pm, or at least, it was still going on then. I ordered a Tía Santa María: it turned out to be nice, and tasted like Irish cream with a tickle of alcohol that made me want to cough. To be honest, the bar wasn’t overly fun. It was too loud to hear people well, and too crowded to sit and chat or to dance. Bar and club culture do seem to be a big theme I hear mentioned in Buenos Aires, but that may just be because it tends to be a big theme with kids of that age anywhere.

3. Food

I feel like all I talk about is food, so let me write a list:

Submarino: a drink popular with students in my program. It consists of a glass of warm, possibly steamed milk, and a piece of chocolate you drop in. Tastes like hot chocolate. You can add sugar if you like.

Marquise: I have no idea if this is especially Argentinean, but it is especially tasty. A brownie then a layer of dulce de leche, then thick marshmallow.

A type of almond ice cream dessert (not yet it’s official name, but surely it’ll catch on soon): Guide books celebrate the ice cream here. Argentina is larger Italian and Spanish immigrants, and the Italian side brings all the power of gelato. What I ordered looked like a slice of coffee cake. Its center was ice cream and the border was crushed almonds. It was very creamy, and I liked it, but my one ice cream experience was not the stuff of guide books.

Empanadas: I had these for dinner tonight.  Essentially a dough pouch of ground or chopped beef, and possibly egg or other filling. We had them with ketchup, but the interesting thing is my host mom eats them with sugar on top.

Medialunes: These look like croissants but are really sweet. They taste like donuts, more or less, with a definite sweet crust, and their name comes from their shape, like a crescent moon. (“luna” is “moon”). These were everywhere today – at the university we visited, at the café  .  . . I will get diabetes if I stay here for long.  

                                             Marquis and Submarino

Día Tres: Day for the Day

                                            Soap on a stick, it's the happening thing.

Graffiti for the day: “Hip hop changed my life. I am a new man.”

Lessons for the day: If arms are not broken, you did not really want to leave the train.

I went to see Universidad de Buenos Aires. The place looks like a large high school, in that it’s not especially nice looking and has those high school chairs with the attached mini-desks. There are pigeons inside, and some graffiti, but it’s a very good school. UBA is a public school, so free, and thus competition is huge, meaning that the quality of the students is top notch. I might not take a classes there, because I’ve been warned that if I do so, I ought to be close to bilingual.  Getting back by subway was an experience. We missed our stop for changing lines, so had to go back. I got separated from the group later because I couldn’t get through the masses. One passenger advised me to shove and push my way out, but it was a sheer wall of bodies. I soon gave up on the subway and walked the rest of way. The air is like late autumn or early winter, it’s a nice night for walking. 

Food for the day: Spinach ravioli, especially tasty because I managed the restaurant (and the Spanish) alone (yes, pride is very tasty. You should try sprinkling it on all your dishes). I got a chance to read a newspaper – there’s a lot on the presidential elections, and a little on the USA. I feel comics, and generally sense of humor, says a lot about a country. Mostly the comics were like those in the USA: jokes about government debt, about TV, about romantically interested people being awkward.

Stereotype for the day: Raquel's English textbook has a few photos and mentions of USA stuff: hamburgers and other fast food, blue jeans, the movie Pretty Woman, NY taxis. I'd be cool if I had a point to make about this, but I really just like seeing how the world views us. The constant stream of hamburgers is pretty in holding with Hetalia's view, and sadly, I can't say the representations are too unfounded.

Día Dos: The Argentineans are curious

Today was the first official day of orientation. Breakfast was a traditional toast with coffee. My housemate, Gia, really confused our host maid/peer when she said she just wanted a glass of water. Raquel, the maid, couldn’t believe it was a real meal if she didn’t have coffee or tea or at least juice. The toast is covered with a type of cream, and on top of that, dulce de leche, a dark spread that looks like nutella and tastes a bit like caramel. There was also a sweet jelly for the bread. So far, almost everything I’ve had in Argentina has been very sweet.

At lunch there was more coffee, which I’m beginning to love. No doubt they need it – Argentineans tend to be up late, having dinner at 9 and going to clubs from 2am-7am. There are a surprising number of vegetarians and vegans on the trip, visiting a province known for beef. I’ve seen precious few vegetables, and Buenos Aires had so much meat that in the older times, even slaves ate beef.

Me and Kiki at a church in San Telmo

We had a tour of the San Telmo neighborhood and orientation informational sessions today.  One of our advisors lectured us on pick pocketing, which is apparently incredibly common. You should always keep your bag on you, and between your legs or on your lap at restaurants, and in front of you when walking around or on the subway. If your bag’s zippers are not covered by an arm or a hand, they will be opened. “The Argentineans are very curious”, was how Adrianna put it. Also, apparently Starbucks is an American trap. It is visited by American tourists looking for the familiar, and pickpockets and bag thieves looking for American tourists.

some grafitti