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.

... the realities of candids ... passers by obscure the original subjects

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. 

a small rest on a hot sunny day -- 28 degrees ... warm

There is a police presence wherever we walk.

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

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.

... packing is exhausting work ...

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. 

... three point landing ...
a cruising talent

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.” 

... one more peak at the water ...

“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.

... a last night ... at least for a while ...

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

Room Size

... my bedroom window I am in a single.  

Wyona and Greg are in a double.

I have no window.  

Well, that is not quite true.  

There is a window painted on the green wall of my bedroom.  

Chimes are hanging on the outside of the painted window.   The inner ledge holds a pot of greenery and a picture.  I am reminded of O Henry’s “The Last Leaf”.  I am actively controlling my claustrophobia.  There is a fan in the bathroom that circulates the air of the room to the outside.  I rely on the small holes in the fan to sustain my irrational hope that there is another way out of the room when the door is closed.

... clothes closet is hooks on back of door ...
... no perk of side table, but is that a reason to upgrade ...

I measured my room. 

If I stretch my arms out lengthwise, then from tip to tip, there is 12 more inches than arms. 

If I take the same measurement on the width of the room, I have an extra 6 inches.  

My bags consume half the floor space.  

The other half can be measured by one stride of my foot.  

There is one tap on the bathroom sink – cold water.  

... tank is smaller than appears in this pic ...

Thankfully the shower has hot water.  

The water tank  is 2/3rds the size of a 12 pack of toilet paper and hangs from the shower wall. “Turn the tank on 10 minutes before you wish to shower,” the clerk said. I might wait until we get on the ship. 

The single bed is hard.  I try to think of a way to describe how hard.  The bed is one step up from sleeping on the beach. At Annis Bay, sleep on the rocks and I may have to rake the surface flat.  I wait all winter to get to do that.

Here, the bed is hard and flat. No raking.  Otherwise – the two spaces are equal.

How to spend the accommodation dollar?  That is the real question. Right from the get-go, when we entered our rooms, Wyona said to Greg, “Do you want me to change hotels?  I thought this one was a hot deal, because it has free Wi-Fi and an elevator.  And look at how cheap it is.  But, is your back going to make it through four nights? I can change, Greg.”

“I am fine.  In fact, so far, a hoot,” he replied.  “I don’t think anyone will believe us when we tell about this trip to Hong Kong.”

On other accounts, Greg has more walking stamina that Wyona or I have right now.  This morning she told him not to feel that he has to go with us.  “We are too slow. Take off, we don’t mind.” 

But he said, “No, I prefer this walk with the two of you.  I am soaking in the sights, the sounds, and especially the smells, all of which is accompanied by interesting conversation.  I am good.”

As soon as he said that, I made every effort to block out the visual and the aural.  I tried to concentrate on the smells that he was giving himself over to,  which now became overwhelming, changing every few steps as though each shop was beckoning us by smell.  At the end of our walk, when we were outside of a new cosmetic and lotion shop, I did not need to ask if the 10 foot high floral displays were silk or real.  The fragrances of the arrangements of lilies, roses and snap dragons were redolent, overpowering, now blocking out all of the delicious food smells.

Oh where was my camera when I needed it?

Arta

Nose at the Window

Wyona made some perfect cruise bookings.  The cruise companies changed itineraries, gave her minimal compensation and we were left with an insane return flight schedule to Canada.  Instead of going London – Calgary, the sensible thing to do, we are going London – Berlin – Barcelona – Frankfurt – Calgary.  There is some sunshine lining every cloud.  Because of the change in schedule, I have seen Berlin – not on my itinerary, but there it was before me today -- grey and I didn't get out of the airport -- but my passport is stamped, "Berlin".   

As well, my nose was pressed to the airplane window for the 15 minutes while we flew over the Mediterranean along the coast of Spain.  The blue of the ocean was cut by the curve of the land, and then the deep violet of the mountains behind were set off by the pink clouds in the sunset.  I was shaking my head, not believing I was seeing such beauty.

We tried to have supper at the hotel tonight, but true to Spanish custom, the dining room doesn’t open until 8:30 pm – far too late for us to begin a meal.  While we were talking to the maitre de, he drew his elastic barrier that runs between 2 silver poles in front of us, as though we were going to bolt and get into his dining room ahead of time.  Wyona, Greg and I took a vote and decided to have a genuine German sausage breakfast in Frankfurt tomorrow, instead and to call our foray into Wyona’s candy stash, supper.  At first, we thought we would walk into the community tonight and find a restaurant, but he clerk at the hotel desk reminded us it is Sunday today – only downtown Barcelona stores are open.  As well, this week are two holidays – one on Tuesday and one on Thursday.  So, he said, most people have taken off Monday, Wednesday and Friday and are just making a week of it.

I am looking forward to the German breakfast.  This morning I had English mustard when I went with Wyona and Greg to the Star Alliance Lounge in the airport.  I thought I was adding regular French’s Mustard to my plane, but at the first taste of it, and after I had recovered from that choking pungent taste, more akin to a eating mustard plaster than to tasting Canadian home-style mustard, I decided to give a new look to breakfast possibilities – thus the journey of looking foward to a German breakfast tomorrow.  Ah, the sweet cleansing of the sinuses for today.

I am hoping for another eating surprise tomorrow.

Arta