The Return of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

Lately, Argentina has been dealing with the recurring problem of bank robberies. It's been a popping up almost daily on the news for the last week or so. Someone last week even robbed a bank 50 meters from a police station, and half of the crew got away. I really don't know what to make of that, but the bankers do. They decided to go on strike to protest the fact that bank security is apparently not about to win any awards for good performance. By they I mean every bank in the country. It just so happened that I, along with some friends, decided to cruise around San Telmo during the day today (the day of the strike) just to check out the neighborhood. As soon as I get out of the subway, I hear 3 loud pops; if someone was trying to make me jump, they really didn't have to use firecrackers. But here was a group of protestors (what I imagine was the warm up for the major league protest later in the day) shooting firecrackers with the equivalent of the White House a few doors down. If that happened in the US, half of the national guard would be on Pennsylvania Ave in about 30 seconds. No one seemed to mind so much here, though.

In the words of Ron White, "I told you that story to tell you this story." About a week ago I got an email from Bank of America saying that they put a hold on my card because there was unusual spending. I checked out my account activity online, and there had been a $14 payment to 'Christians for Jesus.' Definitely not my usual spending habits. So the card was shut down, and plans were put into motion for a new one. The catch was that with it would take over a week for it to get here, and I didn't have enough cash to last me that long. So I looked into wiring some from my account, and fortunately VISA has a service that helps one do that. Everything was put into motion yesterday, and I would have money waiting for me today. This was a very good thing, because my $20 peso wallet was worth just about the amount of cash in it (20 pesos = about $5 USD). But, oh wait! All the banks decided to strike today. For just today. I found the one western union in the city that was not in a bank, and it was at a major post office in a reasonably sketchy part of town. I eventually made it home with some cash, but not after playing Jason Bourne for a half hour.

Classes have started this week, and the shopping period is on. The first class that I tried out was a class at the Universidad del Salvador (USAL). It was a pure nightmare. I should have known that it would be, since it was the only class in the schedule that did not have a classroom mentioned. I arrived a few minutes before the 6:00pm start time, and I asked someone where the classroom was for the course. They said 216. Great! Thank you very much. We get to 216, and it's definitely not right. We find another IFSA student looking for the same class, and he said that he was told 304. Not it either. So I go back downstairs and find out that it's actually in 116. Alright, so we go there. Two German exchange students were holding down the very empty fort; we stayed for a while, and finally figured that this wasn't right. So, we return once again to the secretary, and are told that it actually starts at 7:30, not 6. Well great. So we killed an hour and a half in a cafe around the corner, and returned at 7:30. I go to the secretary and ask where the classroom is, and she says she has no idea what class I'm talking about. Fantastic. It so happened that the person next to me at the counter did know, and she said room 117. We ran up the stairs, only to find that it did start at 6. Welcome to university life in Buenos Aires! It turned out to be a class I probably won't take, so no harm done. The classroom itself was pretty bare; peeling white paint, a blackboard that had its coating starting to come off, and a gridlock of desks all painted by a harsh light from halogen bulbs. A little different from what I'm used to, but it honestly didn't matter. The professor knew her stuff and we all had desks to write on.

The next morning I took a History of the Americas class at the Universidad Católica Argentina (UCA) that was fantastic. It would appear to be pretty standard, but it left a great impression. All the students were eager to discuss the theme of the day (does Latin America have a single identity?). Classes back at Penn are not like this; there is no rapid discussion, no similar passion to express opinion. I remember sitting there thinking, this is unbelievable. I have three other UCA courses to try out next week - hopefully they'll be similar. It's been a somewhat chaotic week with trying all of the classes, with room and time changes that only the argentine students know about and running around to all parts of the city to find the different facultades. Maybe there is a threshold where if I eat enough beef, I'll be in on the secret. To the parrilla!

La Rural

The last few days have been dominated by trying to figure out my course schedule. Trying to sign up for classes at three different universities is not the easiest thing in the world anywhere. Then throw in a foreign language, a schedule that takes a rocket scientist to figure out (multiply that by three, because the course schedule at each school is formatted differently) and the reasonably complicated process of figuring out if I get credit at Penn, and you have the recipe spent for several hours spent staring at a computer screen. I think my anfitriona thinks I have some computer addiction issues because of it.

At this point, Orientation is effectively over, with classes starting today. We still do have the occasional meeting, and our spanish class will continue for a few more weeks (before we start the real castellano class), but it's game time now. I'm about to embark on an ambitious course-shopping plan, so I'll be taking classes at literally all hours of the day for the next two weeks. When I say all hours of the day, that means anytime between 7:45am and 11:00pm. I think the reason behind classes being at really any time of the day (with most of them are in the evening) is that the majority of argentine university students work during the day. I figure I should just bring a sleeping bag, water proof matches and some oatmeal and set up camp in the classroom.

Maradona still is, and always will be, the biggest story on the news. The day after the last post he went on national TV and gave a press conference about his meetings with the AFA regarding his continuing as head coach of the national team. As it can, it got ugly, with Maradona accusing the head of the AFA of lying to him and of being betrayed by various people in the organization. And so began a war of words that continues today. I timed how long the news cycle devoted to the story that night- 30 minutes. I mean, it's interesting and all, and definitely highly relevant, but thirty minutes? That's longer than the State of the Union coverage.

The weekend was busy and relatively sleepless, with many an hour spent wandering the city during the night hours with friends from the program. I also made it to a showing of 'Inception,' which was an amazing movie. It's similar to The Matrix in that it makes you think about reality and our perception of it. I might go see it again just to piece it all together. After the movie I stumbled across a parilla about 20 feet from my front door, which could prove dangerous. It was great; they will probably get to know me by the end of the 5 months. Anywhere I can have a big fat steak, salad and water for $12 can put me on their speed dial. That's if you actually eat the salad. When I ordered the salad, the waiter mentioned something about putting oil on it as a dressing. I didn't really pay to much attention and just said sure, assuming that it would be a balsamic something-or-other, since that has been pretty common. When the salad came out, however, it reeked. It smelled absolutely rotten. I had horror stories of being hunched over a toilet hurling my guts out for days flash through my mind. The salad looked fresh and tasty, but I just couldn't eat it. What I think happened is they wound up putting some sort of cooking oil on it. At least, I hope that's what it was - it did smell pretty bad. Note to self: listen to entire talk on salad. I tried to move it around to at least make it look like I ate some of it.

Yesterday I made it to La Rural, the biggest annual rural exposition in Argentina. It's a huge fair, with sheep, horses, birds, and every type of cattle that walks the earth on display (and for sale, in many cases). These were some of the biggest beasts I have ever seen. We were wondering what happens when one of these cows goes berserk; does it run 50 feet and collapse from exhaustion? Can it actually run? They are just pure mass. Many gauchos were there, in their cultural dress; hats, ponchos, knives. They don't wear cowboy hats; they're either beret-like hats or black hats that look like something the FBI agents in 'The Sting' wear. They really are one of a kind, and hard to explain. There were also several judging events going on, from horse and buggy events to what looked like mounted police with spears and sabers. Pretty neat stuff. If it had anything to do with ranches and rural life, it was there.

Following La Rural I made my way to a polideportivo to play my first soccer in Argentina. It was with mostly kids from the program, but it was still fantastic nonetheless. It was a spot almost identical to the place I found around the corner from my house here in Almagro. I got a solid 2 hours in of some futból. It's in the cards for next Sunday as well; if anyone asks, I had an absolutely horrendous time. We did get a ride back into the center of town by one of the Argentinian guys we played with. We found ourselves in the back of tin shell of a van with half of us sitting on the floor and the other half on little half-benches along the side. People get abducted in vans like these. But the guy was really friendly, and I think all ten of us could have overpowered him anyway.

National Day of Mourning

I could talk about the bus system all day. The stories are endless and I’m sure there are thousands more to come. Yesterday morning, I got on the Bus #5 as usual that gets me to orientation. Everything is going well, with me standing near the front of the bus since it is jammed (not unlike Japan during rush hour – the subways here during rush hour are just as crowded in Japan too). I’m minding my own business until I see a serious PDA between the bus driver and a chica that just boarded the bus. While we’re moving. I decided to hold on for dear life before my mind finished processing what was going on. There were no near-death experiences, but we were moving faster and the turning a little sharper. She wound up staying on for about 4 or 5 stops. Then this morning I get on the bus around the same time, and lo and behold it’s the same bus driver. His girlfriend (I hope) got on at her usual spot but made the whole trip this time. I’m a little curious as to how they met. Consecutive days of flirting as she rides the bus for a few stops, perhaps? You have to love the 5.

Over the weekend I had my first homework assignment, which was to explore the neighborhood with two other classmates and take some photos to share with the class. It was unfortunate that it was raining; it was great nonetheless to see what is hiding around where I’m staying. The find of the day was an indoor futsal center, with 6 5v5 turf fields. They were organized into two sets of three so you could play on two bigger fields. There was a game going on, with the usual ‘passion,’ or in other words consistent rolling on the ground and pointless yelling at the referee. There were yellow cards galore. I just had to laugh, because such seriousness seemed a little overkill on such a small field inside what seemed like a warehouse. It was a phenomenal find though, and I’m going to investigate it some more and maybe get some game time, I hope.

After class yesterday, a group of us decided to go see a movie. We wandered down one of the main roads (Avenida Santa Fe) to a local theater. The only two options were a romantic drama or a French comedy. We decided to check out another theater that was supposedly reasonably close. So, we continued on our quest to find a movie. We stopped by the Recoleta Cemetery, which is probably the most famous cemetery in Argentina. It houses the coffins and tombs of the rich and famous of years past. Extremely rich. A major reason for going yesterday was it was the 50th anniversary of Evita Perón’s death, and she rests in her family’s tomb there. We passed by, and there were flowers and posters everywhere with probably a dozen people paying their respects. To be honest, I was a little under whelmed by what I saw; I had it in my mind that her tomb would be a little isolated given her national prominence. On the contrary, the tomb is down a narrow alley (most of these tombs are bigger than some houses – it literally feels like you’re walking in a village made of expensive stone) and is relatively small. However, even 50 years later she is still one of the most-talked about figures in Argentina. I have to say walking through the cemetery was a little eerie, as coffins were clearly visible through the open doors of these tombs just a few feet away.

We eventually did find the second theater, but it wasn’t as close as we thought. They didn’t have any movies worth seeing, so we decided to go back to the original theater to see the French comedy (Las Hierbas Salvajes). It had Spanish subtitles, and it was great to try and piece together what was happening in the movie by following the subtitles. Either all 6 of us are the absolute worst at Spanish or the movie just wasn’t funny. No one else was laughing either, so I tend to think it was the later. This award-winning film in a nutshell is about an older man who finds a wallet that was stolen from a lady and subsequent becomes obsessed with her. The police shoo him away and she becomes obsessed with him. They all wind up dying in a plane crash during a flight in a little private prop plane. It was a course of bizarre French humor 101. All of us held it in, but once the movie finished we all burst out laughing just because it was so absurd. Crazy Americans.

Dinner was a family affair, with both sons and the husband taking part. The conversation was dominated by the sons’ lives, such as when Ramiro, the younger son, would stop having multiple novias and get one serious girlfriend. Matias was peppered with questions of when he’ll marry his girlfriend and have kids. My anfitriona (host-mother) wants some grandkids, and she let him know. He’s trying to get his fledgling acting career off the ground though, and I’m supposed to go see him act in 3 weeks. Should be fun. I hope the fact that he had black fingernail polish on all five fingers of his left hand and none on his right had everything to do with his acting.

Looking back, the last week and a half have been great; the hours spent at orientation have been time well spent, with a never-ending supply of useful information, plus being able to explore the city by day and night without the thought of schoolwork hanging over our heads. It’s felt a little like NSO all over again, with over a hundred of new people to meet. It feels like I’ve been here for months, when really it’s only been about three weeks.

Today, I had an hour to kill between the end of orientation and an academic advisor meeting, so I cruised down Santa Fe to El Ateneo, one of the most impressive bookstores I have ever seen. The building used to be an opera house; the stage is still there (it is now home to a café), and the balconies are all covered with lights. It’s absolutely huge. Of course they didn’t have the book I wanted, but it was still a stunning place. It is probably the only bookstore I have ever seen with people taking pictures inside.

Finally, as I turned on the news today I saw that the main headline was the fact that Diego Maradona will not be returning has the head soccer coach of the Argentinean National Soccer team. That was all the news talked about for the 15 minutes of headlines. Apparently Maradona wanted to retain his entire coaching staff, but the AFA had other ideas. Everyone is unhappy with his departure, including the AFA. Although now he’ll be able to spend more time with Hugo Chavez, like when he stood next to Chavez on the podium last week as the Venezuelan broke all formal ties with Colombia and essentially threatened to start a war. That can’t have been good for Maradona’s public image.

A Nocturnal City

Things have been kind of a whirlwind the last few days, with 150 new faces to meet and an unfamiliar city to explore. Last Tuesday was El Día del Amigo, a day which is basically an excuse to party with friends. The sons of my host were both over to have an asado, or barbecue. They brought all of their friends with them. Weber needs to come down here and take a lesson in how to build a barbecue. In the kitchen, the barbecue is completely brick, is probably 6 feet across and 2-3 feet deep. It has two parts, a smaller one to the left to heat up the coals and a larger one on the right to get down to business. I wander up to the kitchen around 8 to see what’s going on (no one eats before 9:30-10 here) and the coals were already flaming. Ramiro, one of the sons, didn’t think the fire was big enough, so he took an entire 5kg bag of coals and slapped it down on the fire. Needless to say we had a firework show in a kitchen made almost entirely of wood. Ramiro seemed to know what he was doing, but the orange shooting stars flying all the way across the room weren’t a huge confidence booster.

By the time everyone showed up, there were easily 7 or 8 mid-30s Argentine guys all talking at once and telling 7 or 8 completely different stories. Yours truly had a little trouble keeping up with the rapid-fire Spanish. I’d think of something I could contribute and by the time I was ready they had already talked about how good Boca Juniors will be this year, if Ramiro will ever get married and had moved on to another topic. The beef itself was unbelievable; slow cook some prime cuts over coals for an hour and a half and you have greatness.

My days are spent at what appears to be an ex-residence of the rich and famous in a northern barrio. We discuss everything from classes to which parrilla is the best to the apparent lack of money in Argentina (no one has change, anywhere). At first I had no idea what we were going to talk about for a month, but after a week of orientation I can see it’s possible. Wednesday night I went out with a couple people from the program; we found a great jazz bar to start. Well they found it, I got lost and was almost a good part of the way to Chile. We were given these transit guides to the City called ‘Guia T’ that supposedly tells us what the bus routes are. The only problem is, the going route is different from the coming, there is no schedule, and no real precise location of the stops. Don’t get me wrong, the bus system here is probably the best in the world – there are about 200 bus routes that come every 5 minutes or so (sometimes it backfires when you see three of the same number lined up in a row though) – but figuring out which bus to get on where is always a challenge. Sometimes I think Guia T is really short for guillotine and that’s what will happen if I try to figure out a bus. So Wednesday night I thought I had everything worked out, and I got on a bus. The bus driver had some sixth sense that I was a foreigner and after a quick conversation told me that I was one the bus going the wrong way. Good start. I do make it to where I want to go, and find that the internet address for the bar was wrong, so after making a stop in three different restaurants to ask I finally made it. A 30min trip wound up taking an hour and a half. The music was good though. After, we worked our way to the main nightlife district and spent a few hours there. The nightlife scene here is on a whole other level; first, people don’t actually leave home until about 1:30 on an early night. The first stop is normally a bar for 2 hours or so, and then it’s off to a boliche, or dance club, around 3:30. People eat breakfast in these places when the sun comes up at 7. I’ve heard of people lining up around the block to get into boliches at 5:30am. They finally stumble home at 10. We diiidn’t quite make it that far-

Spending time in the house with the host-family will probably be the most beneficial for my Spanish out of just about everything. It’s normally just me and the host-mom, and we talk about all sorts of things. It’s a great way to get comfortable with the language; they’re patient and know you’re trying. I don’t know what happened, but I was sucked into watching a telenovela the other night, or soap opera, with her- I can’t say they’re my thing, but the conversation is normally a little easier to understand than in other TV series. As a host, she is unbelievable – from preparing food, to squeezing orange juice every morning, to answering (or trying to answer) any question I might have, to putting up with my frequent mistakes with the language she’s really the best you can ask for. It should be a good 5 months!

Mi Casa Su Casa

Today was officially day one of the whole program. I found my way to the IFSA-Butler offices, and met some of the other students taking part in the program. They seem like a good group so far - they were all of the kids that didn't come down on the group flight. So I guess I'll meet the other 120 tomorrow. They must have chartered a 777. I did think that Orientation would last about a week before jumping into classes. Nope. It's going to go on for a month. I don't think that's orientation. Maybe try indoctrination. But it was good to meet the staff.

After the brief meeting I took a cab to my host family's place in the central-western part of the city, in the barrio Almagro. It's a nice part of town - there are actually trees here, which is a plus. It's just me and an older lady who has two kids. At first I thought she said that she was in the middle of getting a divorce from her husband, but then he walked in and sat down to have a coffee for a couple hours so I knew that must be wrong. Good thing I didn't take that subject further. Probably not the best way to start out on day 1. The house itself is great - a lot bigger than I thought it would be. The main room that everyone hangs out in most of the time is up some stairs that are actually outside of the house. So, with it raining today, in order to get to the living/dining room, I had to get wet. A little different, but I like it. Apparently they just had another student staying with them, and his name also happened to be Jake. He was apparently from California as well, and more specifically Berkeley. I thought, you have to be kidding. What can I say. We're a good group, us Jakes from the Bay Area.

Speaking of making a bad first impression, it probably wasn't the best move to drop a tostada straight into my coffee cup this afternoon. All I could do was laugh. They were a little surprised at first and then pretended that it never happened. I thought about eating it so the whole thing would go away, then I figured that might just be more counter-productive than actually helpful. I have to say though, it was a perfect drop. A swish. It didn't touch any clay on the way down. Sign 'im up!

Yosemite's Big Brother

The day started bright and early, as I had to jump in a collectivo to head south to Cafayate. I wound up deciding to tag along with a tour to see Cafayate and all of the rock formations along the way, since I had one day left and so much to do. I thought about taking the bus down and trying to do it on my own, but there were no guarantees that I would see the rocks, which was the whole point. So I played stereotypical tourist for a day and I was reminded how much I hate tours. But no matter, I did get to see some absolutely unbelievable stuff.

The people were nice enough, and the tour guide seemed knowledgeable, but it all seemed a little fake. Maybe the fact that there were more cracks in the windshield than in a shattered plate didn't help so much. But anyhow, of we went. We stopped for coffee about an hour in, during which time I was pacing the coffee shop calling on Yoda to use the force and make everyone spill their coffee so we could get out of there. Eventually we made it to our first stop, the ghost town of Alemania. We didn't actually get to walk around at all, which was too bad, but even so it was pretty neat. It's nestled into this little mountain valley with a river running through it. The entire place was blanketed with snow, which only added to the beauty. What was pretty neat was seeing cacti everywhere covered with snow. Not the usual combination!

Stop number two was our first venture into the rock formations of the Quebrada las Conchas. You thought Yosemite Valley was breathtaking, you should come to the Quebrada Las Conchas. Think of Yosemite Valley mixed with Bryce Canyon, and you’re starting to get the picture. This would be a great spot to say, ‘see attached,’ but my photos don’t do the area justice. We drove mile after mile through layered red rock covered with snow with the andes towering over them, like the Great Wall of China on some massive steroids. We found our way to La Garganta del Diablo, or 'The Devil's Throat'. It's a extremely deep canyon winding its way back up into the mountainside. It is probably about 15-20 feet across and 4-500 feet high. Really neat stuff. I walked back there as far as I could before it was time to go; this is one spot I'd definitely like to come back to and really see what's back up in there. The tonsils, maybe?

Just down the road is El Amfiteatro, or the 'Ampitheater'. This was either my favorite or second favorite on the day. You walk through another little canyon like La Garganta but this time for only about 100 feet before you come into this cylinder-like area. It's as if someone took a drill and drilled a couple hundred feet into the rock. A guitarist and musician playing the recorder were sharing some tunes inside- the way the sound bounced off the walls was awesome. Better than any concert hall.

We made our way to Cafayate from there. Just before pulling into town we rolled slowly by 'The Titanic'. We got an earful of 'My Heart Will Go On' as we were getting close, so we were all warned. Cafayate is a little mountain town set into a valley after the end of Quebrada las Conchas and before the real Andes start. It felt like Fairplay (CO) in a way, just this town was a little bigger. You still had the same amazing mountain vistas everywhere you looked, however. Cafayate's claim to fame is its wine (and of course being so close to Quebrada las Conchas). We visited two vineyards, and got to try wine at both. It wasn't too bad! The local specialty is a torrentes , which is a white wine. It's good. As soon as lunch hit us though, I bolted. I wolfed down some gnocchi and found a spot to rent a bike. I got one that was probably about 4 sizes too small and reminded me of my first bike with gears. But, the wheels turned, the brakes worked and the gears changed if you asked nicely. I cruised around town for an hour, successfully freezing my fingers off and almost being attacked by a couple stray dogs. I asked one if it wanted to race, but I could an earful of bark instead. Biking is by far the best way to see a town. I cycled past some vineyards, around some local neighborhoods (and had some people staring at me from their windows), and really got a feel for the town. It's pretty much all dirt roads that each look like they go straight to the base of some several-thousand foot mountain.

On the way back to Salta we stopped at a few more spots in Quebrada las Conchas, the first of which was Los Castillos, or 'The Castles.' As you can imagine, this is a formation that looks like a couple castles arranged next to each other. They gave new meaning to the word 'magnificent'. I noticed before that JP posted a quote from Grant who said that 'water is the best artist,' and I couldn't agree more. Water did just about all of this (minor a few formations caused by the wind), and it's just astounding. Los Castillos was followed by a stop at Los Tres Cruces, (The Three Crosses) which is a spot with three crosses on a hill that mark the high point of the valley. The view from here is unbelievable - I would almost go as far as to say that it trumps Yosemite Valley. Down the valley you have the view in the last picture above, and up the valley you have the river, some of the red rock and then some Andes peaks towering above those. I couldn't get enough of it.

I made it back to the hostel (although we did actually hit a guy on the way back - I assume he's alright because the driver hopped out and 2 minutes later he was back and we were driving away. I was dozing off at the time, and the loud bang made me think the world was ending) and went out for dinner to the same spot as last night, just at a different stall this time. The food was good and the atmosphere great. There was a guitarist playing for change to a crowd that seemed to be full of tourists from Buenos Aires. No matter - it became loud fast. Later on I got to talking to a recent grad from Columbia, who just happened to know who Dexter TP is. Small world, huh? After a couple hours I convinced her that early nights were for suckers and we headed uptown with one of the guys I met last night and hit up a bar with some live local music - good times.

Today was a travel day- I decided to fly back to make my stay in Salta as long as possible. Flying is supposed to be easy, right? Well, after being delayed for over 3 hours I finally got in the air in an airplane that won't leave my memory anytime soon. The space between the seats was so small that so much blood was cut off from my feet that I probably have permanent brain damage. Add that to what looked like duct tape holding one of the cockpit windows on, and you've got a memorable flight. I also happened to be sitting next to a recent Stanford grad on her way back to Uruguay where she's working for a not-for-profit to help small business owners. It's interesting - all the people that I've met who have studied abroad or are going to are all from 'upper-tier' schools- Stanford, Columbia, Amherst, Barnard, Pomona. Where's everyone else? I'll meet them tomorrow I bet.

It's too bad I actually have to go to the orientation meeting tomorrow. Who needs class? Maybe I'll go wander back up and raise my flag above Los Castillos , call it Minas Tirith and defend it from all of the tours.

Snowday

I have to backtrack a little bit, because some stuff happened after I wrote the post last night. I decided to head out to the best parrilla , otherwise known as a steakhouse, according to the locals. En route I passed by the town square, and there was a huge commotion going on behind a tow truck. I thought maybe someone had gotten into an accident (I would not have been surprised, with the way people drive here. I saw a stop sign for the first time in Salta, and I almost took a picture just to prove they exist), but no instead it was a corvette being unloaded off the pickup. Brand-spanking-new. It was the biggest tourist attraction in town. You would have though Michael Schumacher pulled up in his F-1 car, judging by how many cameras were flashing. I guess corvettes are a little rare in this part of the 'hood.

I made it to Viejo Jack's, the locals' favorite steakhouse. Or I thought I did. I kind of drifted past where I thought it was but didn't see any signs. Then a waiter comes out and asks, are you looking for Viejo Jack's? Thinking this could now either be a great place or a very bad place, I walk on in. Prices are reasonable (8$ for what I imagined at that point to be a phenomenal steak) and after deciding it was worth splurging a little bit, I tell him OK and he asks that I find a spot to sit. I start wandering over to a table, and there is someone from the hostel sitting at the window table. She asks if I want to join and I say sure. She's then joined by two more hostel guests. 3 girls and me - I'm diggin' it so far! The two girls that showed up are both American, and had been here for 6 months. That's awesome - what were you up to? Well, we were here studying abroad. No kidding! What program? IFSA-Butler. You can't be serious. So they had just finished the program I'm about to start. Ice broken. The original girl was also studying here, but on her own from Germany. The steaks that showed up a little while later definitely did not disappoint - although I would find out later that Salta is known for undercooking steaks. Medium is more like double rare. It was extremely good nonetheless. So here's the final bill - the biggest steak you've ever seen, a salad and some wine for 11 bucks. You know where to find me if you want in on it.

This morning I had great plans to rent a bike and cruise around the city. Those dreams were shattered when I saw little white stuff floating down out of the sky. Snowing. Any hope of wishing away the winter in July was shot at this point. Bike around? Good plan if I wanted to lose some fingers. So instead I walked to the main plaza and did the tourist thing for a few hours. I visited a museum where they have a mummy found high up a local volcano that's 500+ years old. The girl was 15 when she was sacrificed as part of an Incan ceremony. Seeing the actual mummy, still clothed and veins still visible was honestly kind of disturbing. I didn't know what to think about seeing it and I still don't. All in all though I was glad I did. For lunch I tried locro again, and this time it was much better. The meat was not frozen, and it was much more tasty. Fantastic. I'm going to miss it in BA - apparently it's a local specialty that is extremely rare in BA. As I walked around I noticed more and more cars with new hood ornaments. People here were building snowmen on top of their cars, sometimes covering the entire roof, and then driving around. Personally, I thought that building snowmen on top of cars is like trying to build snowmen over a fire. Cars do warm up, especially the hood, and eventually I was watching mounds of snow with a stick or two sticking out driving around Salta. Pretty funny stuff, but I thought the whole idea of driving around with snowmen on the car to be awesome. If you only get snow once every 10 years, you have to live it up!

Somewhat lost as to what to do with the rest of the afternoon, I talked to the hostel staff and they suggested I head up to San Lorenzo to see the scenery in the snow, since it would have dumped more up there. Great. Go where it's colder. So I wound up going, after flagging down a taxi on the street (I'm really not learning, but it did look the most legitimate with all of it's license stickers) to what turned out to appear to be the Beverly Hills of Salta. Lots of big(ger) houses and newer cars. I don't know if it was something I said, but I don't think I've ever gone slower in a taxi. Even little mopeds with three people on them were passing us. You could have rolled the bottom section of a snowman faster than we were going. When we finally reached San Lorenzo, I walked up into the hills. As I passed a driveway, I saw a couple guys my aged holding a bunch of snowballs and I smiled. I knew what they were up to. As soon as I was out of eyesight a couple snowballs hit the ground right next to me. I turned around, built one of my own and fired it back. I thought about starting a snowball fight with them, but I think I would have destroyed them too quickly for it to have been a fair fight. I eventually got to the much-advertised forest area only to discover it's a private forest area (private? come on now...) and after paying 15 pesos I was off onto a little circuit where I could admire trees and bushes, according to the pamphlet. I had no idea forests had trees and bushes. It was a beautiful area though, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting away from all of the cigarette smoke and car exhaust for a few hours. There was a great viewpoint towards the end of the trail, and I had a very white view of the valley. All in all a great few hours spent. It definitely was the local hotspot to come play in the snow; when I left the forest area half the population of Salta must have been taking pictures and having a snowball fight.

I had the same cab driver on the way back, and we chatted about food, the world cup, when I'll be back in Salta, the local nightlife scene, just about everything under the sun. A great guy- very proud of his city and eager to talk about it. Dinner found me at a local food court-type deal with two other guys from the hostel; one who also had just finished studying (through Middlebury, not Butler) and an Aussie traveling through. We sampled some of the local food (fantastic) and local beer (super - if you ever find the beer called 'Salta,' either cerveza rubia or cerveza negra give it a try). Good stories were shared and a great night was had. I have several new spots I want to hit before I leave South America!