They say that memories triggered by smells cause some of the most emotional reactions in people. It has to do with the fact that the olfactory nerve is closest to the part of the brain that causes memory and emotion. I don't know. It's really complicated. And, even though after the last blog one might think that my sense of smell would be damaged beyond repair, it's not so. Smells have always triggered very vivid memories in my brain. And thus, the second I stepped out of the terminal at Ezeiza International Airport in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a flood of memories came whooshing back like the water tornadoing out the drain of the bathtub.
Whooshing back to my mind was the sweet, smooth taste of the dulce de leche. The supurbly scrumtious alfajores bathed in choocolate and bursting at the seams with dulce de leche. The scary train rides from La Plata to Buenos Aires with Katy (There are some scary people on trains.). The bathroom incidents at multiple internet cafes throughout La Plata and Buenos Aires (By the way, Kate, Guille and Elena remembered a couple of those!). The student strike where the students themselves shut down the University because they weren't happy with the conditions and my susbsequent joy not the have class! The black and yellow taxis zipping through the streets at break neck speed. Avenida 9 de Julio and it's 12 lanes of traffic in the middle of the city. My beloved Argentine family who, at times, made me want to kill them. The meat. Ohhhh the glorious meat and all the restaurants who prepare the meat over hot coals and all the asados (bar-b-ques) we attended. The fútbol. The absolute madness, passion, and love for the fútbol. And all the learning that took place about Argentina, my friendships, and most of all me. Those were some very formative times.
So, after an eight year absence from Argentina, you can imagine how excited I was to be able to return...albeit for work. Hey, at least I was getting to the country. And I loved that country. I had so much fun while I was there. There were things I hated too, but all in all it was a fantastic experience. And, I was even going to get the chance to visit my friends for the weekend.
I got there pretty late on Sunday night and headed to the hotel through the empty streets of the Capital (The Argentine's call it "The Capital" since it lies in the province of Buenos Aires, you must be specific as to where you are traveling.). I took it all in and sweetly smiled as I remembered traversing that same path long ago. The only difference is that this time I was Blackberry Messenging Gennifer the whole cab ride. Ahhh how times change.
I didn't have too much time to reminice, however, becuase I had an 8:00 AM meeting at the office...which was a 40 minute ride from the hotel. The office lays in the outskirts of the Capital, so most of the time we prefer to stay in downtown where all the action is rather than stay out by the office. A 40 minute cab ride is a small price to pay to stay right in the middle of one of the greatest capitals in the world. And, with the exchange rate, the 40 minute cab ride was only about 20 bucks!
In Argentina there are two types of cabs. There are your regular black and yellow type in the Capital. They generally want to stay close to home. Then there are what are called Remises. The remises are regular cars with drivers who work for an agency. They don't mind taking your furthur than just the city if you need. Sometimes they're cheaper than a cab within the city. Sometimes they're not. It's weird. But, whatever you do, don't ask your cab driver to take you from Argenta Tower Hotel in the Captial to the office all the way in Munro. He won't like it. Trust me. I wasn't sure I was even going to get him convinced.
Finally he agreed, begrudeingly, and took me to the office. I thought about telling him that if he'd shut up and stop telling me how nice he was to me for taking me all the way out there that I'd give him a tip. But I didn't. And he didn't shut up. So he also didn't get a tip.
I entered the office very early since I had a meeting with the Director of the company in Argentina as well as the Director of Marketing. The meeting, contrary to what I thought it was going to be, was very good. It has been said that the director can be very difficult at times, but I did not find him to be that way at all. Mainly it's because I don't think he thinks my project is going to affect his bottom line enough to matter, so he's just giving me free reign. I'll show him.
Everybody at the office there in Argentina is fantastic. It's a small office, so I was a novelty. Everybody always wants to know who the new guy is. And, since I'm new to this side (Latin America) of the company, I was a very big question mark. Everybody met me and talked with me. I really enjoyed my time working in the office with everyone. And, I got a lot of things done for the project. It was a good week of work.
Unforunately, as seems to generally and sadly be my case, there was an "incident" during the week. And, shockingly enough, this incident doesn't have to do with farting. If only that were the case. That would have been much less painful (for the most part).
Monday I ended up working late at the office. By the time I had looked up, everybody was gone and I had no phone number for a Remis service. Thankfully I found the Director of Marketing in his office. He had a number for a remis service there close by and he called one for me.
As I was getting in the remis, I somehow twisted the surgicially operated knee in a way it did not like. I was immediately in horrible pain. The whole trip back to the hotel, I could not get it to kind of "pop" back in. When the driver let me out, I could barely get out of the car. He happened to let me off across the street from the hotel, so I had to try to cross the street, which was impossible moving at the pace I was.
Generally, after I dislodge the knee cap and knee, I can get it to go back in the right place pretty quickly and there is very minimal inflammation and pain. This time was different. After about 10 minutes of trying to get up enough courage to cross the street, I finally made it to the hotel.
I spent the rest of the night in the hotel writhing in pain. I just couldn't figure out why or how I had aggrivated it so much. Unfortunately, the pain continued through the night. It was a long night.
As soon as I got to the office, everybody was very concerned. The girl who I was working with took me immediately to an emergency clinic in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in Bs. As. I saw an orthopedic specialist within 20 minutes of arriving (for $40 bucks). He checked the knee cap and it was fine. He told me I needed to see a specialist. I explained that I was very aware of that fact...and that I knew that the only fix for my knees are new knees. He agreed! I asked for a cortisone shot and some anti-inflammatory meds. He obliged. (Shot and meds: 25 bucks. That same shot cost me 300 in the US.)
I spent the rest of the week in pain, but not like the pain before the doctor's visit. It did put a damper on my time in Argentina as I couldn't venture out and have any fun while I was in the capital. on Wednesday evening I walked the six blocks to a famous steak restaurant and was almost too sick to my stomach to eat (becuase the pain from walking was making me nauseus). That was a shame. All I had wanted to do was eat meat when I got to Argentina, since the meat here in Panama isn't so great, and I hardly enjoyed it.
Out of that fateful remis ride, however, I did meet Jorge...the remisero (driver). Jorge was an interesting, rather large fellow who took an instant liking to me, for some reason. He took such a liking to me, in fact, that he decided he was going to drive me back and forth to and from work every day...even though his route was closer to the Hilti office than my hotel. So, in theory, I would have had to pay Jorge for the trip to the Hotel to pick me up and then for the trip from the hotel to Hilti. I told him I wasn't going to do that. I would call a remis that was closer.
Jorge insisted, though, that he would charge me the same fee every day for each ride. And, he did. Jorge became my "best friend", that is, as far as he was concerned! He was very kind and was very worried about my knee. He was also very punctual, which is uncommon in the Latino world. He even got in trouble for making an agreement with me (as the remisero's take turns taking the calls that come. Whoever is in line next, gets the fare. Making deals isn't fiar.), but I called his boss and straightened it out...very nicely of course. So nicely, actually, that his boss called frantically looking for Jorge to make sure that he was going to take care of me for the rest of the week! She was apparently very afraid to lose the fair and Jorge called the hotel laughing so hard I could hardly understand him to tell me about how they had searched for him.
After the work week, I arranged for Jorge to take me to La Plata on Friday night...where I spent five months studying my last semester of university in 2001. La Plata is, more or less, 30 miles from Bs. As. and I still keep in touch with the family I lived with for those five months. Although it was only five months, it felt like years and the mother and daughter with whom I lived, Elena and Guillermina, are very special to me. It had been almost 8 years since I had seen them. I didn't want to let an opportunity go by to see them. Don't let those types of chances go by. They may never come by again.
Guille and Elena were all ready for me. Elena was a fantastic cook and I had requested that she make one of my two favorites for me over the weekend. She made all of them! So, I feasted on meatballs, gnocchis, steak and lots of other great stuff. Every day I ate way past my belly capacity! Of course, their only comment was, "You don't eat as much as you used to." I'm still not sure if that was an insult or a compliment.
We had a great time catching up over the weekend and I did some shopping...since the exchange rate was fantastic in my favor. I also bought every box of alfahores in a 30 mile radius I think. They were so happy to see me. It was very humbling to think that you could mean so much to two people. In my mind I'm not much of anything and far from perfect! It's hard to believe anybody likes me that much. I'm so glad I had the opportunity to visit them again...and I ate well while doing it too!
It was a memorable weekend filled with a lot of laughs and good memories. And, even though I didn't get to see a soccer game while there, I got to listen to one. Elena and Guille live very close to the stadium of one of La Plata's professional teams, Estudiantes. It just so happened that they were playing their cross town rival, Gimnasia. So, I got to listen to the absolute chaos of the game. I love it.
Since I didn't have time to get out and about in the city, I honestly don't have many pictures. I really only have a few of Elena, Guille, Gabriel (Guille's long time boyfriend) and "the hands".
The meatballs!
Guille and me at a sidewalk cafe in La Plata
Guille and me with "the hands"
Guille and Gabriel with the lovely Argentine meat!
Elena and me
Everybody!I had a great time working and visiting my friends in Argentina. Hopefully I'll get another opportunity to do so. I should, but one never knows. Oh, and the knee, by the way, has to be operated on. I guess that was one heck of a twist getting into the cab.
Panamusings
And now, at the end of all my blogs I usually leave a list of little quips about things that have happened that don't warrant an entire story. I've decided I'm going to call these Panamusings and they will be included in each blog entry.
- Do you ever wish you could send an image your eyes transmitted to your brain to the "recycle bin" and then delete it for all time? On the trip from La Plata to the airport, I was suddenly attacked with a "do or die" bathroom urge (just number one, but dangerous all the same). Well, on the highway, there is not really anywhere to stop in the rush hour traffic. Thankfully, Jorge had the idea of stopping at the toll booth. They had a restroom I could use in their little central building off to the side. I went running for the restroom leaving Jorge there with the car, or so I thought. After I finished, I realized there were no paper towels in the bathroom to dry my hands so I thought I'd stop by the other bathroom (they were not marked Male/Female. There were just two.) and see if there were any towels. The door was open. Why would I think that, when I rounded the corner that Jorge, the very obese remisero would be in there with his pants down around his ankles taking a pee. Sweet mother. Thank GOODNESS the toilet was on the opposite wall so his back was facing me. But, I did get an eye full of that obese behind. You never know how fast you can move on a hurt knee until you see something like that. Let me tell you.
- There's nothing like wearing the jersey of the winning team from the day (Estudiantes) and walking down the street hearing honking and yelling in your direction from other fans. That's devotion.
- It's really handy being able to enter the country of your new residence as an actualy resident. The line is way shorter and they don't insist on taking your picture (like they do to every other person entering the country.)
- The first time in Argentina, I remember being scared to death to cross the street and thinking about how absolutely crazy the drivers were in the entire country. This time around, as I was riding around, the first thing I thought was, "Wow, these guys really drive normally. It's nice to see that again." Then it dawned on me what I had thought the first time in the country. The difference? Panama and the crazy insaneness they call driving. What a difference personal experience has on the way we see things in life.
Peace out!
