Just across the river Pt. 2: Missing the bus and making friends

After a tranquil day in Colonia, I took a bus Friday night to Uruguay's capital, Montevideo, just three hours away.

One of Torres Garcia's colorful creations

While tourists might be just as ubiquitous in this urban city as they were in teeny Colonia, Montevideo is also teeming with plenty of locals who go about their business undeterred by the mobs of travelers.  Aesthetically, the city is something of a mutt: the building tops with their elaborate spirals and textures resemble Gaudi's Barcelona; the uneven sidewalks filled with pedestrians are nearly identical to their Buenos Aires counterparts; and the lackluster beaches (well, the single one I saw) seemed to channel the Spanish island, Mallorca.

The grand Teatro Solis at night

Rather than sunbathe in one of the nearby beaches, I skipped swimming in the silty river in favor of some "culture" time.  In the morning, I sampled some Uruguayan music with a local shopkeeper; at midday I took a tour of the magnificent Teatro Solis; and in the afternoon I browsed the Saturday Flea Market (mate gourd, anyone?) before checking out the gallery of Torres Garcia, one of Uruguay's most acclaimed artists.  The end of my day was delicious— literally.  Following the advice of my Lonely Planet Guidebook, I dined at a swanky cafe with a view of the illuminated Teatro Solis to keep me company as I savored the curry chicken with pineapple.

Jewelry, knick knacks and even mink

Overall, my adventure to Uruguay was a breath of fresh air that I relished.  Traveling solo is always hit or miss, but luckily this trip was a smash.  Even though I missed my bus and boat back to Buenos Aires Sunday afternoon (don't ask), everything worked out in the end.  Uruguyans, whether natives or Argentine expats, are an amicable and chivalrous lot.  One of the friends I made in Montevideo, Pepe, was a 75-year-old bakery owner (and true caballero) who walked me all the way to the bus station, helped me buy my return ticket and then treated me to a coffee.  Another was Susan, who after visiting her siblings in Montevideo, was my travel buddy back to Argentina.

Phantom of the opera? Nah, just the solo traveler

In short, every 90 days my visa expires, and I have to leave Argentina.  It might not be the most convenient arrangement, but it's nice to know that just across the river are some interesting sites to explore and friendly people to meet.

Maybe next time I'll discover how the Uruguyans managed to become even more obsessed with mate than the Argentines.  In all seriousness, is it really necessary to strap the thermos to your back and tote the mate gourd around all day? 

Oh, Uruguay....

Just across the river Pt. I: Cobblestone streets and artists abound

View of the Historic Quarter from the faro (lighthouse)

For those of you who don't know my deep, dark secret, here it goes: I am an illegal alien working in a foreign country.  Although I am an esteemed (sorta) professora del ingles in Buenos Aires, I have no work permit.  Because the process of obtaining any sort of special visa— be it student or other— is so complicated, most ESL teachers have a basic tourist visa.  Every three months my passport turns into a pumpkin, and I have to flee to another country before the stroke of 90 days to avoid a hefty a fine.

Old-school bugs all around the city

Given these circumstances, my recent trip to Uruguay was not just for pleasure but also out of necessity.  Early Friday morning, I set sail on the barco rápido (fast boat) and within an hour, I had crossed the River Plate and arrived in Colonia, Uruguay.  Colonia del Sacramento is a small, historic city that was originally founded by the Portuguese in the 17th century, but then bounced back and forth between Portuguese and Spanish control.  Today, it is the lone World Heritage Site in Uruguay.

Initially, I was skeptical about spending the entire day in Colonia.  Some friends had warned me that the city was too small to warrant more than a three-hour tour, while others had told me that it deserved a full-day visit.  I agree with the latter.

My birthday is famous in Uruguay

Colonia might night have a slew of attractions— its collection of Lilliputian-sized museums can be toured in under an hour— but the charming Historic Quarter with its cobblestone streets and confection of colonial buildings are too lovely to rush through.  Reminiscent of Europe in both its pace and number of tourists, I spent most of the day wandering the old streets, snapping pictures and chatting with locals.  Many of the people I met were originally from Buenos Aires but preferred the more tranquilo life in Colonia.  Luis the artist, was one such Argentine-turned-Uruguayan.  Although Cuba was the country nearest and dearest to his heart, he had also lived in Britain for a few a years and as a result spoke a crisp British English, tossing words like idiosyncratic into our conversations.  Coincidentally Luis and I have the same birthday, October 8, which is also the name of an adorable street in Colonia.

Becoming one with the giant swirl

In addition to Luis, I met Paul the fisherman/wire artist (he made me a flower bookmark), an oddball actor/musician/artist and a charismatic waiter who is probably also some sort of artist in his spare time.  Apparently Colonia is not just home to some of the friendliest people this side of the hemisphere, it's also a burgeoning art community.  And after savoring its colonial quarters, colorful gardens and eclectic cafes, I couldn't help but feel inspired myself.

Inside the pink museum

This Saturday I decided to take advantage of one of the city's many freebies, so I visited the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes.  The building, like the presidential Casa Rosada, is made of pink adobe, which begs the question, "why don't we have any pink government buildings in the States?"

Unfortunately I had to check my purse and camera at the front and as a result have no pictures to share from inside the museum.  I can tell you though that the bottom floor consisted entirely of European pieces.  Apparently the E.U. likes keeping its best works within the continent; with the exception of a few nice pieces from Rodin and Goya, the bottom-floor made me yawn...perhaps I was too spoiled in Florence? 

Thankfully, the second floor was exclusively pieces from South America with an emphasis on Argentine art, obviously.  One of the rooms featured recovered artifacts from the native tribes that inhabited the present-day Argentina before the conquistadors.  Call me an anthropology dork, but it was one of my favorite parts of the whole museum: stone-faced talismans, hybrid-animal vases and intricate yarn work.  Not to mention the indigenous music playing in the background added some nice ambiance.

In addition to ancient artifacts, the more contemporary pieces from the 19th and 20th century were interesting too since the predominant style changed every couple of decades.  While I'm no expert on the subject, it seems to me that Argentina is a country that's caught in a constant tug-of-war between its European heritage and its Latin American roots.  The works in Museo Nacional exemplied this disconnect: A post-Impressionist landscape was right around the corner from a formal portrait of young porteño or a nude painting of an indigenous woman.  Basically the collection was a huge mezcla, or mix, just like Argentina.

I really wish I'd had my camera at the top floor, where a small sculpture patio overlooked the bustling Avenida del Libertador.  A lone bench allowed you the option of chilling out with the sculptures while  enjoying the view of the massive law school building or even the iconic metal flower, Floris Generis, nearby. 

Perhaps next time I'll sneak my camera and a sandwich for an artsy rooftop picnic.

Keep goin' and keep growin'

You might have noticed that March has been short on posts, pictures and general anecdotes.  Rather than fall back on one of my usual excuses ("I've been busy," "I haven't had the energy to write," "I forgot my URL," etc.), I'll break from the pattern and tell you all that I have been quite sick. 

Five visits to two different hospitals, a dozen trips to the pharmacy and 21 days later, I think I'm finally— barring a stuffy nose and strained foot— on the mend.  I'm not sure how socialized Argentina's health care system is, but I found their doctors to be overall quite competent and their medical facilities similar to those in the U.S.  My one complaint is the size of the needles.  Two blood tests left me with two bruised forearms (it's a good thing I haven't had any job interviews this month).

The first week of March I was supposed to start teaching half a dozen new classes; I ended up having to cancel all but two of them.  Luckily the language institute and my private students were all very understanding, but still, it wasn't the first impression I wanted to make.  Now I'm back to teaching and braving this crazy city each day.

So why am I sharing this slightly boring, slightly dramatic tale?  Simply to keep my blog (and myself) fair and balanced.  Some of that old journalism training rears its head when I write here.  It whispers, Keep it balanced.  Show both sides of every story.  Working overseas as an ESL teacher might seem like nothing but endless fun, frivolity and freedom (and yes, those are largely true), but it has a downside as well.  This is it.  Being sick in a foreign country, especially when the doctors don't speak your native language, your internet and Skype only work intermittently and you have no air-conditioning, is pretty freaking scary. 

But even a situation like this, which was so far out of my comfort zone that I had to take a bus to get back into it, reinforces the point of this whole adventure: Keep exploring, keep going and keep evolving.  Traveling overseas has the innate knack for putting you face to face with some of your greatest fears.  Once you confront them, you walk away (hopefully) a little wiser, a little stronger and a little more relaxed.

One of the friends I've made while living here has a small tattoo on the inside of her wrist that reads, "Sigue creciendo," or "keep growing."  I couldn't have said it better myself.

Februay in photos

February might be the shortest month of the year, but my mind (and my camera) are still chock full of stories and pictures that didn't make it into the blog.  Inspired by my favorite expat blog, Suddenly in Asia, I've decided to do a post of photos to fill in the gaps, for it was certainly a busy little month.

Our balcony looks breezy with Anna's dress drying in the sun.

No, I'm not in D.C., but the Obelisco does look like a smaller Washington Monument.

The bookstore chain El Ateneo has one of its locations inside a former theater.  The stage is a cafe and the balcony seats serve as excellent reading spots if you can nab one.

The massive Monumento a Los Españoles is at the crossroads of the Palermo parks, and particularly stunning at night.

Chinese New Year (top) gets more publicity in the barrio chino than Valentine's Day (bottom).  Isn't that  refreshing?

 Enjoying a delicious brunch at Home, a boutique hotel with an adorable "backyard" located in Palermo Hollywood.

Johanna and I pose for pictures after our first visit to the MALBA (Mueso del Arte Latinamericano de Buenos Aires).  My student ID gets me in free every Wednesday!

This potluck dinner (also known as the Empanada Strike!) at my apartment showcased everyone's culinary prowess: one girl even managed to make a delicious hummus using a food processor.