Here is a street scene from the upper town. You see the old and the new.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Monday, 25 April 2016
Ryanair -- Photos of Rio
Here is a street scene from the upper town. You see the old and the new.
Sunday, 2 March 2014
Finally, on Board
The taxi driver told us that 9 pieces of luggage and 3 passengers were too much for his cab. I could understand that much from his body language. I didn’t have to speak Spanish. Somehow Wyona fit all of us in, and Greg offered a generous tip, so the driver left the port happy.
We proceeded to get on board. For us – entering the day of final miracles – no need to unpack again until we leave for home.
The same delicious Sunday market was in full swing and Wyona and I had pesos to spend at the market. Knowing that this would be that last of the really big markets for us we proceeded to the best market of all.
Greg found coins that had been carved so as to leave the interesting figures still in the circle of the coin and the rest cut away. If only he were a jewellery wearer. But he couldn’t bring himself to buy one of those, nor lls one of the purses that other men carry. But to give him his due, he happily carries any of Wyona’s bags, often two or more at a time.
At the end of the day the church bells were ringing at the San Telmo Catholic Church. We stopped in to watch a priest dressed in jean light the candles getting ready for the service. Then we headed for the bus, only to be stopped by Spanish music coming from a derelict hacienda. The front courtyard was full of musicians. A sign said, come in, stay, free, the musicians are not being paid so give what you can. At first we watched through the spaces in the high wrought iron fence.
Then we could smell the grill where chorizo sausages were grilled, split, and place on buns that were only vehicles to get meat into the mouth.
I would have stayed forever. Greg and Wyona forever and a day. The end of a dream day.
We proceeded to get on board. For us – entering the day of final miracles – no need to unpack again until we leave for home.
Greg found coins that had been carved so as to leave the interesting figures still in the circle of the coin and the rest cut away. If only he were a jewellery wearer. But he couldn’t bring himself to buy one of those, nor lls one of the purses that other men carry. But to give him his due, he happily carries any of Wyona’s bags, often two or more at a time.
At the end of the day the church bells were ringing at the San Telmo Catholic Church. We stopped in to watch a priest dressed in jean light the candles getting ready for the service. Then we headed for the bus, only to be stopped by Spanish music coming from a derelict hacienda. The front courtyard was full of musicians. A sign said, come in, stay, free, the musicians are not being paid so give what you can. At first we watched through the spaces in the high wrought iron fence.
 |
| from a website for One Day Cafe in San Telmo (http://onedaycafe.me/tag/san-telmo/) |
Then we could smell the grill where chorizo sausages were grilled, split, and place on buns that were only vehicles to get meat into the mouth.
I would have stayed forever. Greg and Wyona forever and a day. The end of a dream day.
Saturday, 1 March 2014
Five Days in One
A grand day.
1. We saw a military band and procession on horseback.
Just beautiful.
"I think this is a usual military show -- the band are on horses. Something one might see in London," said Greg.
2. Following the horses we found ourselves in the middle of well organized protest about the political regime in Argentina.
Thousands of marchers.
We took pictures.
We tried to get people to tell us what was going on.
Our Spanish is non-existent.
Their English is the same.
One man did a gesture for us.
He touched his tongue and then hit the bottom of his foot as though it were sizzling.
3. We caught a bus – our first local bus with our new cards.
We put $10 each on our cards.
I think the rides cost us $1 a piece.
We have a lot of rides to take yet.
4. We got off at the MNBA Museum.
We couldn’t find it.
Greg walked right around a beautiful Greek looking building with fantastic pillars.
He could find no entry.
We gave up and crossed the street and tried to get in another entry.
No luck.
But the people ahead of us trying to do the same thing were shooed around to the other side of the building.
Yes.
We entered on that street.
A marvellous building full of treasures: Manet, Monet, Rodin, Goya, Rembrandt and the early 20th Century Painters.
We had a 2 pm tour in English.
Greg hates tours but loved this one.
Free admission to the building.
Not even a donation box anywhere.
5. We left to go home but passed by an artisan market that was not to be missed.
I will always regret not buying the beautiful large leather bag I saw at the start of the market.
Wyona says this.
Catherine Jarvis says this.
I know it myself.
If you find something you love, just buy it right then, for you may never find it again.
And you will remember forever that you left it behind if you don't buy it.
Ah well.
Some other shopper will buy it but knowing that, doesn’t make me much happier.
I wanted that bag to go with my other 10 bags I don't use.
6. We ate – we needed food by now, but we also needed to sit down.
The serve was s-l-o-w but we didn’t care. We needed to rest.
7. We went to see Evita’s gravestone.
Just as we were to enter the gates, they closed them.
Six pm on a Saturday.
Too late for us.
8. We took another bus ride home. We don’t know where to touch our loaded transit cards.
I was hitting it everywhere on the unit from which you can buy the cash tickets.
Other passengers on the bus are very helpful.
They can see us doing it all wrong and one will get out of their seat and pantomime the right move, for which I am very grateful.
9. We get off the bus and walk through the Place de Mayo to our favorite gelato shop.
Wyona noticed that the price has gone up on the half litre of gelato.
She tells the owner that we want the old price -- $60, not $70.
He thinks we want to upgrade to a larger container.
No.
We have shopped all over Buenos Aires for the lowest price, and now, tonight, the price has gone up here.
Still, we are happy, have had a day never to forget and know that we are moving out of our spacious digs to a small room on a ship where we will be stepping all over each other for 28 days.
I hope we are still friends on March 30.
Arta
1. We saw a military band and procession on horseback.
Just beautiful.
"I think this is a usual military show -- the band are on horses. Something one might see in London," said Greg.
 |
| ... drummers for the social protest ... |
Thousands of marchers.
We took pictures.
We tried to get people to tell us what was going on.
Their English is the same.
One man did a gesture for us.
He touched his tongue and then hit the bottom of his foot as though it were sizzling.
 |
| ... looking at the bus schedule ... no buses come because protestors are on the road |
We put $10 each on our cards.
I think the rides cost us $1 a piece.
We have a lot of rides to take yet.
 |
| ... the blue group walks by ... |
We couldn’t find it.
Greg walked right around a beautiful Greek looking building with fantastic pillars.
He could find no entry.
We gave up and crossed the street and tried to get in another entry.
 |
| ... the yellows come next ... |
But the people ahead of us trying to do the same thing were shooed around to the other side of the building.
Yes.
We entered on that street.
A marvellous building full of treasures: Manet, Monet, Rodin, Goya, Rembrandt and the early 20th Century Painters.
We had a 2 pm tour in English.
Greg hates tours but loved this one.
Free admission to the building.
Not even a donation box anywhere.
 |
| ... now the greens ... |
I will always regret not buying the beautiful large leather bag I saw at the start of the market.
Wyona says this.
Catherine Jarvis says this.
I know it myself.
 |
| "How lucky are we to see this," Greg says. |
And you will remember forever that you left it behind if you don't buy it.
Ah well.
Some other shopper will buy it but knowing that, doesn’t make me much happier.
I wanted that bag to go with my other 10 bags I don't use.
6. We ate – we needed food by now, but we also needed to sit down.
The serve was s-l-o-w but we didn’t care. We needed to rest.
 |
| ... a protestor asks Wyona to take his picture ... |
Just as we were to enter the gates, they closed them.
Six pm on a Saturday.
Too late for us.
8. We took another bus ride home. We don’t know where to touch our loaded transit cards.
 |
| ... a soft drink at a 25 hour store ... |
Other passengers on the bus are very helpful.
They can see us doing it all wrong and one will get out of their seat and pantomime the right move, for which I am very grateful.
 |
| ... drinks spilled ... filet for Wyona, empenadas for Greg and Arta |
Wyona noticed that the price has gone up on the half litre of gelato.
She tells the owner that we want the old price -- $60, not $70.
He thinks we want to upgrade to a larger container.
No.
We have shopped all over Buenos Aires for the lowest price, and now, tonight, the price has gone up here.
 |
| ... Wyona focuses for another shot for the protestor ... |
I hope we are still friends on March 30.
Arta
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Carrefour
Wyona spotted the Carrefour, an international chain grocery store on our way home from looking for tours. I have been having cravings for fruit and vegetables. There was only one small isle at the back which took care of both fruits and vegetables. The potatoes still had lots of dirt on them. That is a good way to know they are organic. There were only 8 mangoes for sale. No papayas. No fresh berries, though lots of grapes. I had imagined a steady diet of mangos and papayas in South America. I was wrong.
We bought the standard oranges, apples and bananas. “We wouldn’t buy those at home,” Wyona said looking at the blemishes on all of the fruit. I reminded her that the oranges we buy at home are waxed and dyed. That makes look good to us but it doesn’t necessarily mean they are healthy for us or any better than the blemished ones.
Then Wyona wanted to go up and down all of the isles of the stores to look, as though we were shopping at home. I liked that idea so I did the isles as well. That is where I saw lots of canned vegetables. And every home must be making lots of pizza and pasta for there were large cellophane packages of oregano, turmeric, and paprika, bigger amounts than I see at home in my own grocery store. I would have to go off to the speciality Indian spice store to get packages that large.
I am not used to seeing so many shelves of alcohol in the grocery stores. There are no isles of whole grain products – mostly refined white flour. And no specialty isles where you can pick up frozen or fresh ethnic entrees and take them home.
At the check-out we saw Green Coke Labels – now that was confusing. "What is going on with the labelling," we were asking one another. Someone with limited English, (which feels like a lot of English to us, since we haven't been hearing much lately) overheard our conversation and popped into the discussion, explaining to us that in the Green Label Coke, the sugar is natural. We don’t know what that means so I goggled it. Regular Coke: 250 calories. Green Coke: 100 calories. Diet Coke: no calories. Apparently one of the Argentinian efforts to combat obesity.
We were remarking that at this point in our trip, it doesn’t seem to matter than very few people we meet can speak English. I wonder how it is that we are getting along. Maybe the guide books that we brought with us. And commerce can go on in markets whether people can speak the same language or not. The people who stop to talk to us are so kind. No merchants are over-bearing. As we walk along the streets we hearcambio every few steps. I don’t think hearing that word from 10 people per block on the tourist walking street would be an exaggeration, men and women, maybe 8 out of 10 men. But some women along the side doing money changing.
Some salespeople are out on the streets selling tickets to dinner and dance shows – usually a Tango Show. I saw a woman approach Wyona, who didn’t slow down for one step to hear her pitch. The girl walked along, sideways, trying to keep up with her, trying to get eye contact, get some word out of Wyona.
“Oh, you don’t speak,” were the girl’s final words as she dropped behind to find another tourist.
I was not that tourist.
Arta
We bought the standard oranges, apples and bananas. “We wouldn’t buy those at home,” Wyona said looking at the blemishes on all of the fruit. I reminded her that the oranges we buy at home are waxed and dyed. That makes look good to us but it doesn’t necessarily mean they are healthy for us or any better than the blemished ones.
Then Wyona wanted to go up and down all of the isles of the stores to look, as though we were shopping at home. I liked that idea so I did the isles as well. That is where I saw lots of canned vegetables. And every home must be making lots of pizza and pasta for there were large cellophane packages of oregano, turmeric, and paprika, bigger amounts than I see at home in my own grocery store. I would have to go off to the speciality Indian spice store to get packages that large.
I am not used to seeing so many shelves of alcohol in the grocery stores. There are no isles of whole grain products – mostly refined white flour. And no specialty isles where you can pick up frozen or fresh ethnic entrees and take them home.
 |
| ...green label on coke to the left... |
At the check-out we saw Green Coke Labels – now that was confusing. "What is going on with the labelling," we were asking one another. Someone with limited English, (which feels like a lot of English to us, since we haven't been hearing much lately) overheard our conversation and popped into the discussion, explaining to us that in the Green Label Coke, the sugar is natural. We don’t know what that means so I goggled it. Regular Coke: 250 calories. Green Coke: 100 calories. Diet Coke: no calories. Apparently one of the Argentinian efforts to combat obesity.
We were remarking that at this point in our trip, it doesn’t seem to matter than very few people we meet can speak English. I wonder how it is that we are getting along. Maybe the guide books that we brought with us. And commerce can go on in markets whether people can speak the same language or not. The people who stop to talk to us are so kind. No merchants are over-bearing. As we walk along the streets we hearcambio every few steps. I don’t think hearing that word from 10 people per block on the tourist walking street would be an exaggeration, men and women, maybe 8 out of 10 men. But some women along the side doing money changing.
Some salespeople are out on the streets selling tickets to dinner and dance shows – usually a Tango Show. I saw a woman approach Wyona, who didn’t slow down for one step to hear her pitch. The girl walked along, sideways, trying to keep up with her, trying to get eye contact, get some word out of Wyona.
“Oh, you don’t speak,” were the girl’s final words as she dropped behind to find another tourist.
I was not that tourist.
Arta
Monday, 24 February 2014
Planning Tours
We don’t know exactly how to use up these days in Buenos Aires in the best way – we like the Hop-On, Hop-Off Bus as a general rule, but the reviews for the buses here are so brutal that we are afraid to get on one. “The ear phones don’t work ... the incessant tango music will drive you crazy ... there is no substance to the description of what you are seeing ... you have to listen to the translation in so many languages ... just don't do it ... save your money. "
Not giving up on getting a quick start into touring, Wyona found some good reviews of private tours, so we took the address of one such office and walked down Corvientes street, stopping along the way to take our own pictures beside statues on the street. “This street must be the Broadway of Buenos Aires,” Wyona said. Yes, we saw musicals advertized, we stopped in at the opera to find out if there were performances this week, we saw movie theatres, and we stopped at the grocery store and at La Pasta Frola, which is a blog post of its own.
We began to see statues along the way.
A baker outside of a baker.
A barber at another store.
We sat in the barber's chair for our picture.
We got the idea from a 2 year old and a 4 year old who did the same thing.
There is a police presence wherever we walk.
There is always a security guard at the door of our hotel.
For example, we are finding that there are no more than 3 people allowed in an elevator, and 3 doesn’t work in our building if you are carrying groceries. The elevator just won’t go if the load is too heavy (that would be 4 2.25 litres of Coke and 3 bananas, apples and oranges).
Not giving up on getting a quick start into touring, Wyona found some good reviews of private tours, so we took the address of one such office and walked down Corvientes street, stopping along the way to take our own pictures beside statues on the street. “This street must be the Broadway of Buenos Aires,” Wyona said. Yes, we saw musicals advertized, we stopped in at the opera to find out if there were performances this week, we saw movie theatres, and we stopped at the grocery store and at La Pasta Frola, which is a blog post of its own.
 |
| ... the realities of candids ... passers by obscure the original subjects |
A baker outside of a baker.
A barber at another store.
We sat in the barber's chair for our picture.
We got the idea from a 2 year old and a 4 year old who did the same thing.
 |
| a small rest on a hot sunny day -- 28 degrees ... warm |
There is always a security guard at the door of our hotel.
As we walk along the streets at night, every bank is guarded by someone at the door.
Greg is the mapper.
He knows which way to turn and we finally found ourselves in front of the building, a locked building and no tour guide office there.
 |
| ... getting posed for the shot ... |
Greg hesitated in front of the door.
A distinguished gentleman was keying himself into the building, and offered to help.
“That is my office number. Come up.”
We entered the office of two lawyers, explained our plight and they both got on phones, looking for help for us.
 |
| ... now in fantastic comfort ... |
Finally Wyona discovered – the lawyer who spoke only Spanish has a son who runs tours, but those tours are booked on the internet.
Apparently tourists just don’t go to Buenos Aires and drop in at the office.
Drop-in’s aren’t that easy to do, even in the best of buildings.
For example, we are finding that there are no more than 3 people allowed in an elevator, and 3 doesn’t work in our building if you are carrying groceries. The elevator just won’t go if the load is too heavy (that would be 4 2.25 litres of Coke and 3 bananas, apples and oranges).
In the case of the elevator in the prestigious building, the elevator just wouldn’t stop at the landing. Wyona and Greg had to climb up a couple of feet to get out of the elevator and onto the 5th floor. “Shades of Lagos,” ... those words might have come quietly from Greg’s mouth.
We did get hold of the tour guide. He couldn’t offer more than our tour guide books and our local guide (Greg) could deliver.
Tomorrow we are going down for a dock tour – at the very least. And a lot of fun, at the very most.
Greg
Friday, 31 May 2013
Saving the Best to Last
Late Night Pizza
Two evening shows featuring songs from Broadway and two standing ovations later we were having four cheese pizza, salad or cookies in the Ocean View Cafe. Now that is cruising.
I was up again ... early, walking the halls, getting another couple of decks of cards for bridge, coming back to the room to alert Wyona that there was another watercolour class.
I have pretty well given up – another talent that I am going to pass on ... develop those art skills when I get to heaven, I thought to myself. I am working on being polite.
That is all. Like, instead of turning the lights on in the room when I come back from my walk, I go into a pitch black room and try to find the bathroom door by Braille. This is not easy. I could find an open door but I was blocked by wood from entering the room. I went back to the wall, ran my hand over it, trying to find a knob. No door handle anywhere. By now I was using large circling motions with both of my arms. I have been doing Zumba. They are flexible. Still no way to get into the bathroom so I am patting down every wall. I have forgotten that this room has a closet where Wyona and Greg keep their folded stuff. This is what I have been trying to enter in the dark. Cruising is hard work.
We are doing the inside passage today -- seeing for ourselves that the beauty we already know is British Columbia extends along this whole coast. We are out of the Alaska Panhandle and in the waters that separate Vancouver Island from the mainland. So beautiful.
But back to the morning – since Wyona wouldn’t get up and go to the art lesson, I went to check it out and one of those wonderful things happen where the student and the master connect. I might like painting after all. The pedagogy was just right for me: this is about having fun; take 30 minutes, do what you can and be out of there; use the same palette over and over (just let the paints dry and wet them down when you begin again). Now I have a new kit of paper, brushes and colours and tons of tips. ie there is a watermark on the paper, usually lower right hand side that will let you know which is the right side of the paper. During the lesson the teacher diverged a bit to answer a question and then said, “I don’t know where I was in the lesson, so I don’t know where to start again.”
“You were explaining the difference between negative a positive space.”
Whoops.
That voice was mine.
I must have been taking notes in my mind and not evening knowing it.
I would have broken out my paints and got busy, if I hadn’t been racing off to Zumba.
Everyone else is on the stage.
I stay at the back of the auditorium with the shy people, in the shadows, following the leader from far away.
I am not ready to be in the spotlight to do the cumbia until have it mastered in the dark.
Arta
Two evening shows featuring songs from Broadway and two standing ovations later we were having four cheese pizza, salad or cookies in the Ocean View Cafe. Now that is cruising.
 |
| ... packing is exhausting work ... |
I have pretty well given up – another talent that I am going to pass on ... develop those art skills when I get to heaven, I thought to myself. I am working on being polite.
 |
| ... three point landing ... a cruising talent |
We are doing the inside passage today -- seeing for ourselves that the beauty we already know is British Columbia extends along this whole coast. We are out of the Alaska Panhandle and in the waters that separate Vancouver Island from the mainland. So beautiful.
But back to the morning – since Wyona wouldn’t get up and go to the art lesson, I went to check it out and one of those wonderful things happen where the student and the master connect. I might like painting after all. The pedagogy was just right for me: this is about having fun; take 30 minutes, do what you can and be out of there; use the same palette over and over (just let the paints dry and wet them down when you begin again). Now I have a new kit of paper, brushes and colours and tons of tips. ie there is a watermark on the paper, usually lower right hand side that will let you know which is the right side of the paper. During the lesson the teacher diverged a bit to answer a question and then said, “I don’t know where I was in the lesson, so I don’t know where to start again.”
 |
| ... one more peak at the water ... |
Whoops.
That voice was mine.
I must have been taking notes in my mind and not evening knowing it.
I would have broken out my paints and got busy, if I hadn’t been racing off to Zumba.
 |
| ... a last night ... at least for a while ... |
I stay at the back of the auditorium with the shy people, in the shadows, following the leader from far away.
I am not ready to be in the spotlight to do the cumbia until have it mastered in the dark.
Arta
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