tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87589017502483966332024-02-19T10:54:12.263-03:00Reed's RamblingsThe travels, food, and general life of a Chicago guy living in Buenos AiresReedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-80137293121524117572017-06-09T12:59:00.000-03:002017-06-09T12:59:36.343-03:00Two Decades On<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Today marks 20 years since I joined Nielsen! Because of the
location (Schaumburg, IL), I assumed my time with the company only last two
years at most. Three continents and two decades later, I’m still happy to be here.
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I hope in that time I have brought a lot to Nielsen, but
there’s no question about how much the company has given me. First, there’s the
career development, worldwide travel, and industry know-how, all predicated
upon being able to analyze numbers and talk about those analyses. I love the challenge
of simplifying my nerdier passions, and lucky for me there’s been a market
for it.</div>
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After 10 years in my hometown, I have been sent to live in
Argentina and Switzerland. Again, that first assignment was supposed to be a fun
and challenging two–year stint before a return home. Yet that mission has, thus
far, incorporated 1½ new languages (French is a work-in-progress), two
completely different cultures, and being a founding member of an ultimate frisbee
club team. Much more importantly, I’ve also encountered the love of my life,
and built a family with two great little kiddos who are growing up as American/Argentinean/Swiss
hybrids. I hope we are not confusing them too much.</div>
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But on this arbitrary milestone I think most about all of
the excellent colleagues at Nielsen. Nearly every friendship I have made since
college has been at least indirectly due to Nielsen. Friends who share the same
intense interest in music, friends I’ve met playing Ultimate Frisbee, and of
course arriving in the hospitable community of Buenos Aires… It’s likely none of
these relationships would have happened without the connections built via this company.</div>
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As a rookie I was trained by the very best, and have tried
to pass along what they taught me at each stage since then. I’m proud and
fortunate to say that I hired in some amazing people who have grown to become excellent
leaders thanks to their considerable talents and drive. And moving around in
the world has allowed me to bridge the partnership between old and new
associates. The second project I ran as an analyst was delivered to the guy who
is now my boss. (He’s been around a bit longer than I have.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our CEO says “It’s a great time to be at
Nielsen,” and I agree. I can’t wait to see what the next decades have in store.
At the very least, I have confidence that I will have superb teammates.</div>
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Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-35632148822092134252016-02-01T12:26:00.001-03:002018-09-11T10:47:12.164-03:00In Memoriam : Walter W. Reed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have made
only a few mentions of my father in this and my other blogs. Though if you look
at many of the postings, you will see his comments spread across all kinds of
topics, always with an encouraging message of support. He passed away two weeks
ago, and as low as I feel right now, I have the urge to do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i>. And so writing a post about his life is what feels right
to me. I’ll start at the beginning.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lucky to survive</span></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My father
was born Werner Rindsberg in 1924 in Germany. His devout Jewish family lived in
the small town of Mainstockheim. He played a lot of soccer and helped his
father with the family wine business. As Germany fell into the hands of the
Nazi party, their lives quickly changed. On Kristallnacht, he was arrested
along with my grandfather. Because he was only 14 years old, my dad was returned home after three days My grandfather was sent to Dachau for several weeks and returned
weakened and silent about what had happened to him. My grandparents then took
the courageous step of sending my father to Belgium with a group of refugee children. He would never see his parents or brothers again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimC2YwYQw3DPVrRKIgaNVxZjUxQiBbEPCJJxniNF3A2fHuW_NOpuJgGdjobwzsMxtQ8C9NYn8ZfkS0h-LX_dTlskDHKgTlLTtQ2MveZrcnolwdput30wwsk1cqkdVmti5VFpOMjVph9GrG/s1600/walter-reed-and-brothers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimC2YwYQw3DPVrRKIgaNVxZjUxQiBbEPCJJxniNF3A2fHuW_NOpuJgGdjobwzsMxtQ8C9NYn8ZfkS0h-LX_dTlskDHKgTlLTtQ2MveZrcnolwdput30wwsk1cqkdVmti5VFpOMjVph9GrG/s320/walter-reed-and-brothers.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kurt, Werner, and Herbert Rindsberg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When the
Nazis invaded Belgium he fled with nearly 100 other children to the south of
France. They found refuge in a small farming community that still has fewer
than 100 inhabitants. After nearly two years, he had the good fortune of
receiving a visa and arrived at Ellis Island just a few months before the Pearl
Harbor attack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8N-hc_KA7wzZI31QE2Ug2WLP0qeJXvl3TsRRoTQQCQonANP3HawZgFMA-Oceh-K9GmyGl7ZXDH3qDpOpjuCd2uLCAZHDQLLvxEmrhR42v1HaJCRTYwY50OAe5FQXfTfD_yf0I6dke3gs/s1600/werner+and+walter+strauss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8N-hc_KA7wzZI31QE2Ug2WLP0qeJXvl3TsRRoTQQCQonANP3HawZgFMA-Oceh-K9GmyGl7ZXDH3qDpOpjuCd2uLCAZHDQLLvxEmrhR42v1HaJCRTYwY50OAe5FQXfTfD_yf0I6dke3gs/s320/werner+and+walter+strauss.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Werner Rindsberg and best friend Walter Strauss</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He began
work as an apprentice in a tool and die shop in New York, but was soon drafted into
the army. That gave him the right to US citizenship, and he took the
opportunity to change his name to Walter Reed. He then returned to Europe,
arriving in Normandy less than a week after D-Day. Thanks to his skills in
French and German, he was moved in to a position as a </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritchie_Boys" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">translator and interrogator</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">. When the war ended he remained in Germany in support
of the denazification efforts. He returned to his village to find more questions
than answers about his family’s whereabouts. Much later he would learn that
they perished in gas chambers in Poland.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBx4A3K5DjCUbam5WDG7XTVnZUEGVwX5oqmH1Rhd2aiKDvPyPDQ5FZj1FJXz_YIsB9qBgzHkCDZ8ZQz88bIQgnfOtN3-l9MQviYXvCrY8bY5s50yPrO0Xo9kLh0-uTr8vaJdtpeMxJmzaw/s1600/Soldier+photo+1a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBx4A3K5DjCUbam5WDG7XTVnZUEGVwX5oqmH1Rhd2aiKDvPyPDQ5FZj1FJXz_YIsB9qBgzHkCDZ8ZQz88bIQgnfOtN3-l9MQviYXvCrY8bY5s50yPrO0Xo9kLh0-uTr8vaJdtpeMxJmzaw/s1600/Soldier+photo+1a.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An American</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Returning to
the US, he attended the Missouri School of Journalism, and in time various jobs
across Midwest brought him to Chicago. Until he proposed to my mom, all who
knew him believed he was born in New York City and that his parents had died in
a car accident. He was always open and honest with us about his past, but we
also understood this was something we kept within the family. He long felt that
the Nazis had already taken so much away from him, that he did not want to let
them ruin anything else in his life. That meant a conscious choice to be an
American and fit in. On top of his career, he was always an active member of
the community, working with various groups to help make a positive impact. This
ranged from serving on boards of service organizations, to award-winning
leadership in the Rotary Club, to he and my mom taking in Hmong refugees in
the 1980s.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Accidental Historian</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some time
after his retirement, with all us kids grown up, a return to the place where he
and those 100 children were hiding opened up a new chapter in his life. He
learned that most of them had survived and were in regular contact with each
other. They had been looking for him for a long time. He soon “came out of the
closet” as a holocaust survivor and began to tell his personal story publicly.
What followed was nearly two decades of education, story-telling, and
documenting his and others’ history. He organized reunions of his former companions
in Chicago and at the site itself in France. He spoke to high schools and
colleges in the US and across Europe. We are fortunate to have audio and video
of some of these discussions. I can’t wait to share them with my children once
they are old enough to appreciate them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinPds6pMoMBQLDiy9h2omGogDKRgQPzkwclEvDHe2yVYGQwqbQztFOl6iyRxtOVqf9lXZR50i2w0m9WUSqW7VE_CZfcBSI0CSbeBm7W6P3v7iLoqxLGfWjLfrBMRU6yqX45SQTHNbDaw5H/s1600/Germany+classroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinPds6pMoMBQLDiy9h2omGogDKRgQPzkwclEvDHe2yVYGQwqbQztFOl6iyRxtOVqf9lXZR50i2w0m9WUSqW7VE_CZfcBSI0CSbeBm7W6P3v7iLoqxLGfWjLfrBMRU6yqX45SQTHNbDaw5H/s320/Germany+classroom.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A high school classroom in Germany</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As part of
this process, my father became actively involved in a project to tell the story
of these refugee children. An author who had previously published work <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dangerous-Diplomacy-Story-Rescuer-Hungarian-ebook/dp/B004H1TDAG/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">about
Jewish rescuers</a> wanted to write a book detailing the history. My father
enthusiastically offered his support with the research. Unfortunately, the
author died rather early in the process. When no other option availed itself,
my dad decided he would write the book himself. After ten years of research and
writing plus another four hustling to get a publisher, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Children-Hille-Eluding-Capture-History/dp/0815610580/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1453328310&sr=1-1" target="_blank">his
book</a> came out last November.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmNanLjSVFEdC45mnjfR3AQ44HP-6MmKxaHyIX-NfoVzvvRRc38Jm2qFgrFomp5EqNmyJN2-_vIBFR9YBWk3jWhZ1ijVb8pCm_fExVRIITDx8YbDzgcLHBdX-12EnxANDAuvEYDs-HAoyN/s1600/With+book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmNanLjSVFEdC45mnjfR3AQ44HP-6MmKxaHyIX-NfoVzvvRRc38Jm2qFgrFomp5EqNmyJN2-_vIBFR9YBWk3jWhZ1ijVb8pCm_fExVRIITDx8YbDzgcLHBdX-12EnxANDAuvEYDs-HAoyN/s320/With+book+cover.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proudly unveiling the book cover</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Always There</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The above is
an amazing story of a life truly lived, one I’ve told many times. But it’s not
really what’s on my mind or why I’m writing this now. I’ve always wished I were
more like my father. His innate ability to focus and continuously get things
done ahead of time never came easily to me. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone
more reliable. Regardless of his age, he continued to deliver. Seriously, who
publishes a heavily-researched non-fiction book at the age of 91? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As a father,
he never missed any of our sporting events or concerts. He and my mom went
to my brother’s post-punk shows at the Fireside Bowl and later his electronic
shows at nightclubs, even when they took the stage at 2AM. Whatever I needed
that he could provide, I usually didn’t even have to ask. He just took care of it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-g4RyPQiGge0a9LqCS56fKUfWMSl9e5vEvj5A1vmCeC4MdiL0wwfGsBO0Rre_zHTIO0NC1vmLMuk2k0oJi7DhdOO06wPRL_8iExnhoJfWAkkg0wbpWK0nfMgqhRhsF37FKsqbqtPVtlqE/s1600/xmas+1978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-g4RyPQiGge0a9LqCS56fKUfWMSl9e5vEvj5A1vmCeC4MdiL0wwfGsBO0Rre_zHTIO0NC1vmLMuk2k0oJi7DhdOO06wPRL_8iExnhoJfWAkkg0wbpWK0nfMgqhRhsF37FKsqbqtPVtlqE/s320/xmas+1978.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I was 14
he decided it was high time for his sons to learn to ski. So he drove us out
Colorado and skied the week on his own while we took lessons. He was 65 at the
time. He kept skiing well into his 70s. He and my mom did biking trips across Europe
every summer. Every summer including the last one when he was 91.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I got
married in Buenos Aires, he gave a phenomenal speech in Spanish. This, even
though my father did not speak Spanish. It was all anyone could talk about for
weeks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjlSxqhZn5R7y5CaRyx6lTIFKtewnbhJKZ8kn2Ox7EX_UI0Z1_yt9gRKS2SAYZyKZfugvV6yhvIfT10PeQu09PwwgCX9OfRHm0fUYgBP685c6_0whjkCZWwHQBzXs8K1hFN-yPCWIrqRO/s1600/Paleo-1963.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjlSxqhZn5R7y5CaRyx6lTIFKtewnbhJKZ8kn2Ox7EX_UI0Z1_yt9gRKS2SAYZyKZfugvV6yhvIfT10PeQu09PwwgCX9OfRHm0fUYgBP685c6_0whjkCZWwHQBzXs8K1hFN-yPCWIrqRO/s320/Paleo-1963.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He was
probably too strict with me and my brothers when we were young. But he did us
the great favor of evolving as we grew up. That may have started shifting when he had
a heart attack in 1985. (1985! He made it another 30 years beyond that…) Or perhaps
opening himself up to his true past allowed his softer side to emerge and eventually
take over. That trajectory continued over decades only to reach its pinnacle in
his interactions with his granddaughter. How fortunate that we visited Chicago over the
holidays and had two more weeks of fun. In our last conversation, he said how
much joy being with her provided him. My dad went out the way he would have
wanted. He didn’t suffer, and he was at one of the most content periods of his
life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtu4DBG0USEwKir1mt7kaJ5yq8jtPTHMAmdlF5Vfg5VVb3GoGmtlyFQgsJ8tRDwLHzRsTed1526HegWpnlIRPDHo0F2rVANFAu-MZOmODIQiMbU5lr6o6kESVgV6C3M5W38aHOH7pt0LQ8/s1600/070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtu4DBG0USEwKir1mt7kaJ5yq8jtPTHMAmdlF5Vfg5VVb3GoGmtlyFQgsJ8tRDwLHzRsTed1526HegWpnlIRPDHo0F2rVANFAu-MZOmODIQiMbU5lr6o6kESVgV6C3M5W38aHOH7pt0LQ8/s320/070.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Of course I
have all the typical feelings, taking for granted that he would live
forever. After everything he had survived and how capable he still was… what
else was I going to think? (Some of my friends in Argentina called him “Highlander.”)
I know. Everyone does this. That doesn’t make it any less frustrating.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1mKDGhY8cwlHEt_dDCXO0PP9No_-GuBL1d6vfTAdqmeZHA2JtPyyy6_biL-YJQXLK54jnbWhrUuhRtkOjRbR9h_Kmbzdh56mVQ8lB4MMm48QcH-JWEBOTUAp8n898qDQGPe8vqROy22K2/s1600/Grandpa+and+Vicky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1mKDGhY8cwlHEt_dDCXO0PP9No_-GuBL1d6vfTAdqmeZHA2JtPyyy6_biL-YJQXLK54jnbWhrUuhRtkOjRbR9h_Kmbzdh56mVQ8lB4MMm48QcH-JWEBOTUAp8n898qDQGPe8vqROy22K2/s320/Grandpa+and+Vicky.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I feel his
absence at every moment of every day, even though I’m an ocean away. I think
about how their house is emptier. My family is emptier. But I reflect on all
the guidance and wisdom he passed on to me, and feel overwhelmingly lucky to
have received it all. I can’t yet fathom that he won’t be able to do that
for me anymore.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A series of sacrifices
and miracles granted him survival, and without question he made the most of his
life. I'm so proud of him, and I know my grandparents surely would have been, too. In these last two weeks, so many of his friends and acquaintances have told me that my father was
a great man, and I agree. But they don’t know the half
of it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweUWNMBMIjxK0TYX4Ir4IaZYNfqzaYdQd9QLVdTNcXeZ8X9r5rwaDrpfdesjDgeoMCeLTr0DB23neljpGLaOrjHK2Z6aNHTeyEXknq42WMDGC7yQvGS5VLA-l2q8QXMQqure2DmTZQpfh/s1600/Headshot+1+other.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweUWNMBMIjxK0TYX4Ir4IaZYNfqzaYdQd9QLVdTNcXeZ8X9r5rwaDrpfdesjDgeoMCeLTr0DB23neljpGLaOrjHK2Z6aNHTeyEXknq42WMDGC7yQvGS5VLA-l2q8QXMQqure2DmTZQpfh/s320/Headshot+1+other.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For those
interested in my father's book, I personally found it gripping and relevant,
biased though I may be. You <a href="http://amzn.com/0815610580" target="_blank">can buy it here</a>. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Other stories:<br />
<a href="http://www.nyjournalofbooks.com/book-review/children-la" target="_blank">Review of his book in the New York Journal of Books</a> <br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.d39foundation.org/2010-honoree-walter-reed/" target="_blank">Wilmette award for public service</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.army.mil/article/55949/Holocaust_survivor_speaks_at_ASC_observance/" target="_blank">Military ASC Observance article</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://chicago.suntimes.com/news/7/71/1269999/walter-reed-author-turned-wartime-flight-jewish-child-refugee-nazi-well-regarded-book" target="_blank">Chicago Sun Times obituary</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://fw.to/4EkyIKI" target="_blank">Wilmette Life obituary</a></span> </span></span><br />
<a href="http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/survival-tactics/Content?oid=905390" target="_blank">Chicago Reader story from 2001</a><br />
<a href="http://leoadambiga.com/2012/02/19/walter-reed-from-out-of-the-past-former-hidden-child-survives-holocaust-to-fight-nazis-as-an-american-gi-in-world-war-ii/" target="_blank">Leo Adam Biga on the book-writing process</a><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-44586338727375024942013-08-25T10:32:00.000-03:002014-11-07T12:56:55.039-03:00Expectations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</xml><![endif]-->When I was 10 years old, my school had us participate in an
extensive project that amounted to a more realized simulation of the computer
game Oregon Trail. We were assigned to families and grouped into wagon trains with our fate
determined by our decisions and simple luck (i.e. whatever the computer said). Cross-continental
expeditions were beset by attacks from natives, inclement weather, and illnesses.
This exercise went on over the course of a few weeks and culminated in a
performance for parents where we acted out all that had occurred. In my wagon
train, one girl’s simulated baby was near death due to an infection. During the
performance, galvanized by some commendable
overacting on the young mother’s part I was tasked with bringing the baby to her. The frantic screams of “MY BAAABYYYY!!!”
were all the motivation I need to run as fast as I could to the part of the
stage where the baby was and deliver it back to her. Of course, we didn’t use a
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> baby on stage as we were 10 year-olds and nowhere near responsible enough for such cargo. Instead it was a plush
baby doll that in this case had diphtheria or some other such malady. I don’t
know if I was hoping to save this little guy, since we already knew the sad outcome
of the simulation, but the girl playing the mother was really quite hysterical.
So I did what any ten year old boy would do to get that baby back in its mother’s
arms. I threw it at her. The way I remember things this was a pretty good throw,
possibly even landing in her lap. But, again, fate had spoken previously and
the plush baby doll was doomed regardless of my efficient fling.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In school the next day, the teachers went over what had gone
well and what had not. My decision to throw a sick baby some 20 feet was
decidedly in the second column. At that age verisimilitude was not a strength I possessed. This was technically my first attempt at child care, simulated
as it was. In front of a lot of people who knew how to get into
character better than I did (and their parents), it was not an Oscar-worthy performance.
It was also not the way to treat any sick baby, simulated or not.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This blog has been nearly dormant for the last two and a
half years. I haven’t even posted any wedding pictures. But I finally have some
news that might not be mind-blowing to you, but is certainly a life-changer for
me. My wonderful wife Belu is pregnant, and we’re expecting a girl the first
week of November. We’re both extremely excited, and can’t wait for all the impending
changes even though we can’t really grasp what they will do to our lives.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The morning we received the happy news, the first thing I
did upon leaving for work was glance at the mirror in my elevator.
I probably look at myself in that mirror every morning, just to make sure I
have nothing in my teeth and that my hair is at least presentable. But on that
day, I felt like I was looking at some other, unknown person. I think I blurted
out “that guy is going to be a father” with a grin comprised of equal parts nervousness and giddiness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since that moment six months ago, there has been a steady progression
of newfound understanding. To be sure there are all the mechanical thought
processes… What are the most important features to look for in a stroller? How
many bibs are we gonna need? How does one complete the legal procedures for the
birth of a baby in Switzerland who has parents from two other countries? How do
birth-related contractions actually work, and what am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i>
supposed to do about them? Where’s she going to go to college? And so forth. But beyond that I find I’m viewing the world in an entirely
different way. We’ve all come into being through the same painful process
before being liberated to find our own path. The impact that I’m going to have
on this person’s entire life and how she fits into everything else in the world
is constantly tumbling around in my head. I fully realize that once she’s born
there will be no time for such thoughts. But all of the energy from this eager
anticipation has to go somewhere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m thinking about what kind of person she’ll be. Whether
she will appreciate or curse us for forcing three languages upon her from the
very beginning. Will she be fun, surly, goofy, selfish, sweet, caring? Will every
last thing we do affect her? I think about wanting to be sure to do all the superb
things my parents did right while improving upon the ones I wish they’d done a
bit differently. I’m asking everyone I know who has children what to expect and
what to do – constantly making mental notes. It’s not only that I don’t want to
screw this up. I want to be a great dad and set her up for a happy life. I never really planned to for this moment, but I think I'm finally ready to be in it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
More than anything I rest assured that having such a strong
relationship with Belu will make all of this easier and more successful. I’m
not naïve enough to assume that having a baby won’t test us. But as long as we’re
together, I know we’ll do the best we can. These next three months will surely
pass quickly and my life will change all over again. Any lingering nerves are
easily overwhelmed by excitement. And besides, I know that no matter what
happens, I can’t do worse than I did at age 10.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrSR75qePaXHU1taySEl9F25XFMX3nBvHTuQAf05bthOfwro25qd8nk2u4y6lwW8Rm_PJnOwce_Jy_HZuqkfv09nReDhXNwirUWNfFAjkTZ7j1ENUQ13GMXuFuBQ8gFCKn2qnbwxlp1QI/s1600/IMG_5721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrSR75qePaXHU1taySEl9F25XFMX3nBvHTuQAf05bthOfwro25qd8nk2u4y6lwW8Rm_PJnOwce_Jy_HZuqkfv09nReDhXNwirUWNfFAjkTZ7j1ENUQ13GMXuFuBQ8gFCKn2qnbwxlp1QI/s400/IMG_5721.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belu modeling the latest baby-bump fad in Chianti</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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</div>
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Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-64215010663696753912013-07-01T16:38:00.000-03:002013-07-02T03:59:37.724-03:00Missing Dan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I hadn’t been in close contact with Dan since college, and I now suddenly realize just how long that’s been. Nearly all of my memories of him are from high school when we overlapped for three years. When he entered as a freshman, I’m pretty sure the first thing everyone noticed about him was, “Wow this kid can run!” It didn’t take long to see that he was an exceptional teammate with a radiant personality. In short, he was someone everyone loved being around.<br />
<br />
Dan passed away last week of a rare form of cancer at age 37. The warnings in recent weeks that his condition wasn’t improving hasn’t made the news any easier to take. In some ways I feel I have no right to this post or to comment at all. It’s not that we grew apart in our 20s – better said that we simply found ourselves on different paths. I always thought that one day those paths might intersect again if we ever found ourselves in the same place.<br />
<br />
His passing is a shock in so many ways. I can’t seem to let go of how unfair life can be. This was a guy with an incredibly positive spirit, good heart, and as tough a mettle as anyone I’ve known. Like I said, we were no longer very close, but I am certain that in these ways he never changed. He should have lived to be 100.<br />
<br />
Danny, as we all called him then, never saw a challenge he couldn’t take on. Even in the rare cases where he was outmatched, he gave his all. In track meets he dabbled in hurdles and shot-put even though he was one of the shortest guys on the team. He was one of the smartest people I hung out with, but never once showed it off – an extremely rare type of humility where I grew up. He would often playfully obsess about trivial minutiae, successfully convincing everyone that, for instance, the team glider we won playing skee ball at Chuck E Cheese was something to be cherished forever. And he was a confidant who would listen to anyone’s worries. I know it’s cliché, but I really cannot believe he’s gone.<br />
<br />
Throughout the last week, waves of memories are coming back to me as if they just happened. In all of them, Danny’s just being himself. I don’t often think about my high school days, perhaps because I often didn’t like who I was or how I carried myself at that point in life. I can say quite confidently that whenever I was around him, I liked myself a lot. He brought out the best in me before I had any idea what that was going to be. That’s why and how I always want to remember him. And why I feel so much sadness for someone I didn’t even know how much I missed.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Si30DysEtJJawwQUxGGxfeGo5Thh0XI_xUKudZ6bZqnnDNhSe0B74pYy27lpJbObDd6vDkgqHZM_zQumqCY7sf8Ud_iA0_Z6zyM-aUMd0U6rD4n5NCt577WSf4FY5Y3AreMH2RfZh_Yu/s720/cretemoneepowwow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Si30DysEtJJawwQUxGGxfeGo5Thh0XI_xUKudZ6bZqnnDNhSe0B74pYy27lpJbObDd6vDkgqHZM_zQumqCY7sf8Ud_iA0_Z6zyM-aUMd0U6rD4n5NCt577WSf4FY5Y3AreMH2RfZh_Yu/s400/cretemoneepowwow.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan is on the bottom right and was our #1.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i>A cancer research fund has been set up in Dan’s name and <a href="http://mskcc.convio.net/site/TR?pxfid=29790&fr_id=1590&pg=fund&et=S1XzsKBVhDkSyb53VLJp4w&s_tafId=14243" target="_blank">can be accessed here</a> in case you would like to donate.</i></div>
Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-85438321175069043932012-10-28T16:00:00.000-03:002013-02-11T10:52:47.822-03:00Why I'm Voting for Barack Obama<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</xml><![endif]-->I haven’t written anything of substance in my three blogs in
well over a year. It took this year’s election to finally shake my typin’ fingers
from their slumber. Only barely since this has been the most unbearable
slog of an election in memory. Four years ago we were treated to the
most entertaining and compelling one we’re likely to see for a long time. It
inspired me to compare it to <a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2008/03/big-lebowski-rolls-through-2008.html">The
Big Lebowksi</a>, <a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2008/11/dr-strangelove-drops-bomb-on-2008.html">Dr.
Strangelove</a>, and your <a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2008/04/2008-presidential-candidates-as.html">favorite
professional wrestlers</a>. There’s no such fun this time around.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I must begin by saying that I am disappointed by the Obama
presidency. Not because I believed in Hope and Change<sup>TM</sup>. I’m not
often naïve; I always knew there was a high probability of disappointment. Obama
was dealt the toughest of hands, but I feel strongly that he played it wrong.
He blew an opportunity that rarely comes along in American politics. From the
moment he took office, he looked to extend the olive branch to Republicans even
as they repeatedly knocked it from his hand and stomped it into pasta seasoning again and again. Even before inauguration, he went to <a href="http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0109/17441.html">George Will’s house</a>
to court every significant conservative columnist. He held similar court with
Republican members of congress even though they were the minority. All of that
outreach resulted in zero GOP votes for a stimulus package in the middle of the
worst economic situation the country had seen in almost 70 years, even after
the Democrats threw in extra tax cuts just to appease them. All of those open-armed gestures resulted in the Senate Minority Leader stating that his single most important goal in the midst of all these challenges was “making Barack Obama a one-term
president.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he chose how to treat those who got us into so much
trouble, he turned the other cheek. Obama did nothing to hold anyone
accountable for the economic disaster, despite the myriad of laws broken in the
financial sector. He let Dick Cheney, José Rodriguez, and their ilk completely off
the hook for the torture programs they devised, leading to a complete scumbag
like Rodriguez recently bragging about his “big boy pants” on 60 minutes. And
nothing was done about altering the illegal surveillance strategy employed by
the Bush administration. Hey, I get it. He didn’t want to lose his financial backing,
didn’t want to piss off the CIA right off the bat, and he figured he’d
better use everything in his arsenal to avoid any terrorist attack for which he’d
undoubtedly be pilloried.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I say he missed an opportunity, it’s because instead of going straight to the public that elected him, he was too
busy trying to make nice with those who were dead set on destroying his
presidency with any available weaponry. In his nomination acceptance speech a
few months ago, he said “So you see, the election four years ago wasn't
about me. It was about you. My fellow citizens — you were the change.” This
statement is correct. But it took until this election for him to realize that
his energy would have been better spent with those same fellow citizens rather
than hoping to appease those who have declared him a sworn enemy. This is of
course 20/20 hindsight. I’m not saying Obama shouldn’t have tried outreach
first, and he would have been a hypocrite if he hadn’t. But why did it take so
long and so many useless peace offerings? The people were indeed ready for major
change for the first time since Richard Nixon. But Obama chose a different
strategy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am, generally speaking, a progressive. It’s not that I expected
him to be one. I just think he played the game wrong. Yet my disappointment
sells him short. He’s actually <a href="http://whatthefuckhasobamadonesofar.com/">gotten a whole lot done</a>
despite the mess the country is in. And all this with an opposition party that
long ago stopped giving a damn about decency.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The shameless, craven behavior of the Republican Party absolutely
astonishes me. I suppose I was naïve about one thing. I thought they would take
Obama’s 365 electoral vote victory as a pretty clear sign that the will of the
people deserved acknowledgement. For instance, Obama had said if elected
he would fight to enact universal health care. He did so with a plan largely
devised by the right-wing Heritage Foundation and employed successfully by Mitt
Romney. But rather than helping craft a compromise Republicans chose to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_panel">lie their way</a> into a battle
to the death panel (one that was eventually declared alive by their own Chief Justice Roberts). At that point it was clear that whatever Obama proposed, they would
be against, and with no qualms about outright lying to garner public support for
their side.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But this runs deeper than simply looking to score political
points. If these Republicans have shown us any governing principle it’s that they
do not think that factual truth is important. This certainly applies when
talking about Obama, but also on any relevant issue of the day. When presented
with clear evidence of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything</i>,
today’s Republican Party prioritizes their beliefs over reality. Think about it.
According to the Republicans: </div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Climate change either doesn’t exist or is not
important.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Obama raised your taxes.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Voter Fraud is a tremendous problem.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Obama was born in Kenya.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Abstinence education reduces pregnancies.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Republicans are trying to protect social
security and Medicare.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Sarah Palin was against the Bridge to Nowhere.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Iraq was working with Al Qaeda.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Tax cuts on the wealthiest sector of the
population create economic growth for everyone.</li>
</ul>
All of the above is well proven bullshit.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which brings us to President Obama’s opponent. From the
beginning of this campaign, it was clear that Mitt Romney was going negative. This
is America, and that’s his right. But during these last 40 weeks, <a href="http://maddowblog.msnbc.com/mendacity">he has told lies on 891 occasions</a>!
891!! That’s simply astonishing. OK, so maybe you don’t believe all of those
are actual lies and are open to some interpretation. Even if you want to be extremely
generous and take just 10% of them as untruths, that would still be more than two a week for
nearly a year. Nobody questions that Romney has told different audiences different
things at different times. To be fair, nobody has any idea what Romney would
look to do as president. I doubt he even really does. So there’s no reason to
trust him on just about anything, right?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ah, but there has been a handful of areas where he’s
actually been consistent. He will increase military spending. He will cut
taxes, primarily on the wealthiest Americans. He will cut various public
service programs that benefit wide swaths of our fellow citizens in various
ways. Aside from also being consistently “pro Freedom,” that’s about it, man. In
the only executive decision he’s had to make since 2007, he selected Paul Ryan
as his running-mate. Ryan is a self-proclaimed “policy wonk” who can’t even
handle basic mathematics and devoutly worships at the altar of <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/270292.stm">voodoo economics</a>. He
has also constantly lied about subjects important and banal, from whether he requested
stimulus funds to his marathon time. He is in so many ways today’s exemplary Republican.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the last 32 years, Republican Party policy has resulted
principally in Debt and Destruction<sup>TM</sup>. We’ve seen unnecessary wars, unfunded
mandates, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iran-Contra_Affair">embarrassing</a>
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dismissal_of_U.S._attorneys_controversy">corruption</a>
and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valerie_Plame_affair">scandals</a>.
This is what Republican Presidencies have meant. And most of these actions were
based on lies or false promises. George W. Bush stated again and again that he
was <a href="http://www.outsidethebeltway.com/bush_on_nation_building/">against
nation building</a>. We know how that turned out. He named his tax cuts “middle
class tax cuts” even though the majority of the reduction was for the
wealthiest. “Healthy forests” was a veiled giveaway to logging companies. “Clear
skies” reduced regulations on polluters. “Support the troops” meant support
George W. Bush’s war, but don’t provide any body armor or sufficient health care upon
return. And of course to dress every newsworthy wound we got terror alerts
that were designed to intimidate and distract us every time something went
wrong for the Bush White House. I question whether Americans really remember
what it was like with a Republican president. With good reason, we all wanted
to move on. But those who cannot remember their past are <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Santayana">doomed to repeat it</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is there reason to think a Romney presidency will be a
departure from previous Republican policy and behavior? Lucky for us during the
second debate, a conscientious citizen actually asked him “What is the biggest
difference between you and George W. Bush, and how do you differentiate
yourself from George W. Bush?” I present Romney’s response in full:</div>
<blockquote>
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The —
President Bush and I are different people, and these are different times. And
that's why my five-point plan is so different than what he would have done. I
mean, for instance, we can now, by virtue of new technology, actually get all
the energy we need in North America without having to go to the — the Arabs or
the Venezuelans or anyone else. That wasn't true in his time. That's why my
policy starts with a very robust policy to get all that energy in North
America, become energy-secure.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Number two, trade. I'll crack down on China.
President Bush didn't. I'm also going to dramatically expand trade in Latin
America. It's been growing about 12 percent per year over a long period of
time. I want to add more free trade agreements so we have more trade.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Number three, I'm going to get us to a
balanced budget. President Bush didn't. President Obama was right. He said that
that was outrageous to have deficits as high as half a trillion dollars under
the Bush years. He was right. But then he put in place deficits twice that size
for every one of his four years, and his forecast for the next four years is more
deficits almost that large. So that's the next area I'm different than
President Bush.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">And then let's take the last one, championing
small business. Our party has been focused on big business too long. I came
through small business. I understand how hard it is to start a small business.
That's why everything I'll do is designed to help small businesses grow and add
jobs. I want to keep their taxes down on small business. I want regulators to
see their job as encouraging small enterprise, not crushing it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">And the thing I find most troubling about
"Obamacare" — well, it's a long list, but one of the things I find
most troubling is that when you go out and talk to small businesses and ask
them what they think about it, they tell you it keeps them from hiring more
people.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">My priority is jobs. I know how to make that
happen. And President Bush had a very different path for a very different time.
My path is designed in getting small businesses to grow and hire people”</span><br />
<br />
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">In this moment Romney had a wonderful chance to say how his direction
would break the trend with Republican presidencies past. He took the
opportunity to attack Obama, China, and Venezuela, but didn’t reveal any
substantive way he would govern differently. This is because his few consistent
policies are nearly identical to Bush’s. And in fact most of his advisers come
directly from Bush’s administration.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I acknowledge that Obama hasn’t been perfect. I wish he
would have given up on his version of change for something more practical after
it simply wasn’t taking hold. At the very least, he’s an honest and honorable
guy. Maybe he isn’t wired to be a true leader, but he is perfectly suited to steer a
steady course. And right now that’s probably what we need more than anything. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The GOP has tried to redefine reality for decades. Yet given
what we can safely believe about Romney, we know these policies will only send
us farther backwards, bolstered by dishonest arguments the entire
way. Do we really want to reward a party that has so clearly proven that they will
never put the country ahead of their own agenda? A vote for Romney is a vote for
falsity and pettiness. And it is almost certainly a vote to return to the Bush
years. Given that threat, we must give Obama all the support we can.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Obama was elected, I wrote “He’s got his work cut out
for him.” I didn’t realize that the Republican Party would make so much harder
than it had to be. If he is reelected, he will have another four years of
brutal fighting ahead of him. My hope for 2012 is that he’s been kicked in the
balls enough times to know he must come out swinging from here on out. Because
even if he wins 365 electoral votes, his opposition won’t suddenly value truth,
honor, or the needs of our country. As
an American who values all of these things, there’s no other available choice
in this election.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo5O7mpHlsjOuJwQnnLeQHXlqzAPH9DdXBytPGhja0VN4FN5uwNjHsgqa_31utp_daGHPLzlbGPDIMR8NeNn6dQmk1_rH8J0CbSOqh2jg5VGuNibzHiblViIiwzWh-FM0CS2RUKWLY4L8z/s1600/americanflag.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo5O7mpHlsjOuJwQnnLeQHXlqzAPH9DdXBytPGhja0VN4FN5uwNjHsgqa_31utp_daGHPLzlbGPDIMR8NeNn6dQmk1_rH8J0CbSOqh2jg5VGuNibzHiblViIiwzWh-FM0CS2RUKWLY4L8z/s1600/americanflag.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
And just to show I'm not too much of a Debbie Downer, have a righteous jam by The Equals that's on topic enough:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5TTwh5tmDiM" width="420"></iframe><br /></div>
Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-52590840810010109072011-04-09T12:48:00.006-03:002011-04-09T13:28:53.143-03:00The big day has arrivedYou may have noticed a severe lack of postings both here and on those <a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/">other</a> <a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/">two</a> blogs I try to write in whenever I have free time. Well, my work life continues to be busy, but that's no surprise. I like my job and am very devoted to it.<br /><br />But the more complete silence as of late is because of another pending event that has required a lot of attention. Today I'm getting married. Yes, <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/01/path-to-gratefulness.html">again</a>, but now it's a big-time event!<br /><br />Tons of hard work and crucial decisions have culminated in this day. A day where many friends and nearly all the family have made the trek down to Buenos Aires. The bachelor party is over (which, thank goodness because I would surely be dead if it had continued the entire week). The flowers are chosen. A decent night's sleep was had. The tuxedo is in hand. Just eight short hours from now, I'll still be married, but this time God is in on the deal. My parents are in on the deal, too, and they're pretty darn important.<br /><br />Today we enjoy the fruits of our labor, and share them with everyone. It is an absolutely gorgeous day here in BsAs - the weather could not possibly be better. I know that by this time tomorrow, I'm going to be lamenting that it all passed by so quickly and hoping everyone had as much fun as I did. <br /><br />More than anything, I've got the best girl in the world by my side, and that's plenty of cause for celebration right there! And maybe after a couple of weeks on the beach, I'll even get back into blogging again. But today's all about enjoying everything that brought us here. It's going to be an absolute blast...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cardsunlimited.com/largeimage/Champagne.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 383px; height: 383px;" src="http://www.cardsunlimited.com/largeimage/Champagne.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-87564932698049462452011-02-14T07:51:00.004-03:002011-02-14T09:20:23.458-03:00Winter WonderingsI'm going to come off like a real jerk on this one. Just try to bear with me.<br /><br />The blizzard of '11 was relatively major news down here in Argentina, even before it arrived. My wife's grandmother called us up to urgently direct us to warn my parents about the impending weather. Of course they were already prepared. <br /><br />The Facebook messages came first. Many friends mocked the weather reports. They complained that the stores were sold out of bottled water while taking people to task for readying themselves like a nuclear attack was on the way. I wondered if I would be joining in in the snarky posturing or if I've matured enough to be more adult about the situation. At least I didn't have to decide.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugX0tYBln91foq2om_098njBtEXm0xb47zM_S0_UucVVGw_lqPNb04krhOCQsjrSzqzV3g21kPr4fCgPSA_-qbFbjaaRlcDIsLYkzyzY3M3m3svN-KaJ5VZeihPSp2OUPGk-ryHVFcT3I/s1600/street.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugX0tYBln91foq2om_098njBtEXm0xb47zM_S0_UucVVGw_lqPNb04krhOCQsjrSzqzV3g21kPr4fCgPSA_-qbFbjaaRlcDIsLYkzyzY3M3m3svN-KaJ5VZeihPSp2OUPGk-ryHVFcT3I/s400/street.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573244442604919106" /></a><br />And then the storm began to arrive, and once again Facebook was my source of news. "And so it begins," said one friend in a way that could have been anywhere from completely to not at all sarcastic. A few hours later calls of "Thundersnow!" rang out from all sides of the city. And it was good.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsauiCmA0sw5coFT76oxt5qpUa6vHggJ1gX4axZGKhJJXAs7xsjK_6LIMfX4fhDEjrtTVh6zQItwTn7yemJh9W2Cwmyu8IQQZexnIqOPlTS-tSGM4oh-d_zafLZQrU2Yj5zyCnMXNEjrU8/s1600/car.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsauiCmA0sw5coFT76oxt5qpUa6vHggJ1gX4axZGKhJJXAs7xsjK_6LIMfX4fhDEjrtTVh6zQItwTn7yemJh9W2Cwmyu8IQQZexnIqOPlTS-tSGM4oh-d_zafLZQrU2Yj5zyCnMXNEjrU8/s400/car.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573244440541095090" /></a><br />On the Buenos Aires morning news broadcast the day after, they showed subtitled interviews of stranded LSD motorists - before they had to ditch their cars. When I got to the office, all of my coworkers were asking about it. It was another reminder about how globally connected all of us are these days. And though we are smack dab in the middle of a beautiful summer here, I must say that I came away with mixed emotions.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnf5Oa7nQhzC0H5r4a6FH7ruasveNm6rWyqEO4sYhJUewkoN0UzCNYg10aPRwnZ3eX-wURARl0aBD-mmH5I-U-m1JeUkslQsn1P9aUMx7-cDr439Qbdj34VQCrVOuKxSQjqrZ-EJPYb6NL/s1600/lake.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnf5Oa7nQhzC0H5r4a6FH7ruasveNm6rWyqEO4sYhJUewkoN0UzCNYg10aPRwnZ3eX-wURARl0aBD-mmH5I-U-m1JeUkslQsn1P9aUMx7-cDr439Qbdj34VQCrVOuKxSQjqrZ-EJPYb6NL/s400/lake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573244418473994850" /></a><br />All this news reminded me of how much joy the snow would bring when we were kids. It was never a hardship. On the contrary. My most vivid memory of grade school was a kickball game abruptly interrupted by the first icy flakes - not because of danger or worry, but because every kid on the blacktop had to celebrate the moment. Even helping my parents shovel the driveway was a chore we actually looked forward to, unlike, well, all the other ones. The best sledhill in town was at the end of my block. They permanently closed it because some unfortunate kid hit a tree. But it's got the most climbable fence in the world, so that didn't exactly stop us.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZKzmry7rm71DeqM4d4og2SSFZnviP53htT5bSu0oaAHS7wPGrZC76dnkw5ZXWtkvB6fHU3xKYlE7Krzuptt8HuZ5XM0EGg5Uugz5SG6fUxzKUq0_U_jNChZj4qFzzcZk4yJIDKXpH_k2h/s1600/kids.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZKzmry7rm71DeqM4d4og2SSFZnviP53htT5bSu0oaAHS7wPGrZC76dnkw5ZXWtkvB6fHU3xKYlE7Krzuptt8HuZ5XM0EGg5Uugz5SG6fUxzKUq0_U_jNChZj4qFzzcZk4yJIDKXpH_k2h/s400/kids.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573244417568073730" /></a><br />Even when I had to make the commute back from Schaumburg into town on those rare days when the snow would completely mess up everything and it would take three hours to get home, we just buckled up, took our time, and made the most of it. It felt like a small price to pay because it was <span style="font-style:italic;">something</span>. Sure we lost some time, but it sure was pretty. (Note - I never had to abandon my car or anything, but seriously, I'm also not dumb enough to use Lake Shore Drive in a blizzard. Ah, there's the snark.) <br /><br />I'm now three years removed from my last winter. Seeing all the photos, stories, videos, and more from Chicago, while I know that it has surely been a pain in the ass for a lot of people, I wish I could have been there to enjoy it. I still recall the last time this happened, January 1, 1999. There was no work that day anyway, so we watched movies, ate Chinese food and occasionally went outside to see how much had accumulated. And all of you will remember this day and your personal stories.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV97Xa8-DXszH-LG8uGnV2UB3SgDb7wKEika5mcLEOUzTlnnkfUPbLgsASkdCMVlF-gaSIeyyjYCSaObq3iIAnu4Q4F8QJO_RgKYvp7y4FDJ5K_PvUpD3afzriBH2MW5gk5eWw1wmMOt13/s1600/dayafter.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV97Xa8-DXszH-LG8uGnV2UB3SgDb7wKEika5mcLEOUzTlnnkfUPbLgsASkdCMVlF-gaSIeyyjYCSaObq3iIAnu4Q4F8QJO_RgKYvp7y4FDJ5K_PvUpD3afzriBH2MW5gk5eWw1wmMOt13/s400/dayafter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573244406893591362" /></a><br />It's a gorgeous 85 degrees and sunny here. But in my longing, I appreciate such a gorgeous day all the less. What I wouldn't give to dive headlong into a pile of the powdery stuff right now. I guess I should head downstairs to the swimming pool I never have time to use. But it just seems so pedestrian by comparison.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">All photos by Michael Apostolidis</span><br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/IkbMd3Bygzs" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-17391747539418498602011-01-09T12:32:00.004-03:002011-01-26T09:37:36.864-03:00The Path to GratefulnessI came down to Argentina with various objectives, and the major ones were all quite clear. I wanted to build a new team at my company that could continue successfully after my two years were up. I wanted to become fluent in Spanish. I wanted to really get to know some Argentines and embrace the local culture. I wanted to make some lasting friendships.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4twWuGOLcAbRr6SQsMJYsCMmRwxt99pwBd7BqsSlZGSb92TPjGFwwgtZN3SwEOJbkTz5l3S8y9QGjJDOwnwUi6DTt7YzBFYQInWT4_KBFJI6acX5L0wLUip_pGQA5ub2teyTGs29ukeAK/s1600/Paleo+-+0056.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExO8BvLmG6F3GdUFH3VpmBhccs-xVtGKsRYM_BWWioeU6INyp0DBy4cN_dTEAJXfZjURJM0PzTffncsiwY-t2QIPV7ykJJ7bHdtpr6f3tW1dtuKZveACgtri2CppqlS8lURkYEjz228Lz/s1600/Paleo+-+0057.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExO8BvLmG6F3GdUFH3VpmBhccs-xVtGKsRYM_BWWioeU6INyp0DBy4cN_dTEAJXfZjURJM0PzTffncsiwY-t2QIPV7ykJJ7bHdtpr6f3tW1dtuKZveACgtri2CppqlS8lURkYEjz228Lz/s400/Paleo+-+0057.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556267690232398514" border="0" /></a><br />There were plenty of lesser goals, too. I wanted to see if the new knee could handle Ultimate. I wanted to travel the country and continent. I wanted to challenge myself in some way. I wanted to learn something new. I wanted to have a lot of fun. Until this very moment, reading what I've just written, I didn't take stock of how much I accomplished these 2.5 years (and counting). I should probably be more proud of myself.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAP_gjSZVvotZ5d9Y7GzkKqWezYLGXGOkN2tMQJj5u17JK-ZL_cRVQ46N5PCWLcxYKGpIOvsJJfjE9_LxpOOdDrf2q7DFxeb5T-UNeE67yxMWPwpSyyJ28SoiuBmsuQXiX6YvI1Tm3v7rr/s1600/Paleo+-+0089.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAP_gjSZVvotZ5d9Y7GzkKqWezYLGXGOkN2tMQJj5u17JK-ZL_cRVQ46N5PCWLcxYKGpIOvsJJfjE9_LxpOOdDrf2q7DFxeb5T-UNeE67yxMWPwpSyyJ28SoiuBmsuQXiX6YvI1Tm3v7rr/s400/Paleo+-+0089.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556267692788455538" border="0" /></a><br />Of course, I encountered many things I was not anticipating. That can happen when you move to the other side of the world. And the happiest accident of them all was meeting Belu. Being a "short-timer," I figured I would date a few girls and generally enjoy a bachelor lifestyle. Meeting the love of my life was a chance occurrence that required such a long list of improbable things to take place. Looking back, it is truly a miracle. I suppose some would call it destiny. I often think about my great fortune in finding her. For you to see just what a slim chance we had of meeting, let's see how we got here.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyePlb5Ib-WPY8fmaWDNVEwt67XoS1JsBYbJN8qkxmyCQubGOSVSlmhebrkn54yv6p6v1HP-mu_N8X0_Rq9y7aFvO2T61hYJEe_36VS4ddtWwRmzE2vMqWyXQQKVtWm5_XQQxn-pTw6KY5/s1600/Paleo+-+0094.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyePlb5Ib-WPY8fmaWDNVEwt67XoS1JsBYbJN8qkxmyCQubGOSVSlmhebrkn54yv6p6v1HP-mu_N8X0_Rq9y7aFvO2T61hYJEe_36VS4ddtWwRmzE2vMqWyXQQKVtWm5_XQQxn-pTw6KY5/s400/Paleo+-+0094.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556286609038345010" border="0" /></a><br /><u>May, 1993:</u> In a tough decision, I opt for the University of Michigan over the University of Illinois for my undergraduate studies. I was accepted to Michigan very late, and had already gotten excited about life in Champaign-Urbana. Sure, it's possible that I still would have ended up the same path, but who knows?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbM8zBzckavIv1j5KTel6pRrjpvlrOlRduQl4HVSom1j5sE3MNWEWTTAYxfQg_WH77F2rvOPtyfzAYRQEMVQHlU5k1tLXqINPJE3STyK4n8VnjfcumqWjoQo7QGkfCt2IuHxnBIxqmuJm/s1600/Paleo+-+0097.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbM8zBzckavIv1j5KTel6pRrjpvlrOlRduQl4HVSom1j5sE3MNWEWTTAYxfQg_WH77F2rvOPtyfzAYRQEMVQHlU5k1tLXqINPJE3STyK4n8VnjfcumqWjoQo7QGkfCt2IuHxnBIxqmuJm/s400/Paleo+-+0097.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556286610269747650" border="0" /></a><br /><u>April, 1995:</u> Having applied and eventually accepted into the Business School at Michigan, I decide to stick with Economics because I find it more interesting and the "<span style="font-style: italic;">onda</span>" much preferred. That and professor Jan Gerson gave me a pretty good sales pitch. It was the right call for me, as I dig my hands deeper into statistical research and find each consecutive step more fascinating. Yes, I'm pretty nerdy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCn38JESV3ZdBipZXYqSmIqOOS4UvAx2rkrbbfWGx46a3v_wQnnRBRis3CfN3IpEdltdbI7iTBj77_B39N6OexRxHVYyIqwpJVSRD3yhFj9Dvcz1K1zdPrQezb3AyOB4214Fs03ru5dJY/s1600/Paleo+-+0099.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCn38JESV3ZdBipZXYqSmIqOOS4UvAx2rkrbbfWGx46a3v_wQnnRBRis3CfN3IpEdltdbI7iTBj77_B39N6OexRxHVYyIqwpJVSRD3yhFj9Dvcz1K1zdPrQezb3AyOB4214Fs03ru5dJY/s400/Paleo+-+0099.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556286613360259234" border="0" /></a><br /><u>February, 1997:</u> In the middle of an extensive job search, I interview with the analytics department at the Nielsen Company. After much frustration with what other companies are offering in terms of job content, I quickly decide that Nielsen is exactly what I want to do. Clearly it's a good decision as I will later reach my 13th year of employment (and counting).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0nFDIUPN6tOw_0L_Jwzjo4OUGEIHwjNeNsoQvsfTq34XXK_ivv8ZGb6EAuG8kQbR_eira27HM-uiW1H9C9Sd1ed6ejcDRKPi0prOMQNq5zu9ok9-30Awes29Gm_iBh5_xVZhqiRvyY1A/s1600/Paleo+-+0114.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0nFDIUPN6tOw_0L_Jwzjo4OUGEIHwjNeNsoQvsfTq34XXK_ivv8ZGb6EAuG8kQbR_eira27HM-uiW1H9C9Sd1ed6ejcDRKPi0prOMQNq5zu9ok9-30Awes29Gm_iBh5_xVZhqiRvyY1A/s400/Paleo+-+0114.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556286616183604978" border="0" /></a><br /><u>Spring, 2007:</u> Now 10 years into my tenure at Nielsen, I decide to quit my job to drive around the country <a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/2007/06/big-plan.html" target="_blank">attending college football games</a>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvR2n5C5gbKqLZkm37kMXUa3mU7D_jDvhbjWTyTvNkuuQ2o9CvYuLgjnCApYv_5rPkvoKuaDCx35eH8qNQjQIL2EskDvlggnl3k-i1Yw41IS8B28G9I4oSSLKJS1aM3-PsGcnbxSiqeBVE/s1600/Paleo+-+0119.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvR2n5C5gbKqLZkm37kMXUa3mU7D_jDvhbjWTyTvNkuuQ2o9CvYuLgjnCApYv_5rPkvoKuaDCx35eH8qNQjQIL2EskDvlggnl3k-i1Yw41IS8B28G9I4oSSLKJS1aM3-PsGcnbxSiqeBVE/s400/Paleo+-+0119.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556286628138438162" border="0" /></a><br /><u>August, 2007:</u> With my road trip plan already in place, I try desperately to get in touch with college football writers, editors, and lawyers about finding a "legitimate" writing gig to help open doors and make a name for myself along the way. The only person kind enough to give me a remotely positive reply is SI.com's <a href="http://stewartmandel.com/" target="_blank">Stewart Mandel</a> who connects me to an editor of the now defunct "On Campus" section. Somehow I convince them to give me a freelance gig, writing a <a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/search/label/si%20on%20campus" target="_blank">weekly column on tailgating</a>. I can't believe this actually happens. I am less than a nobody whose only literary claim was <a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2007/01/schwarzenegger-sunday-overview.html" target="_blank">comedic reviews of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies</a>. Someone up there must like me - in addition to Stewart.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJnj5mSbUJ3IBuA6a9UMQUEBpoTi3HsChCnUf26cVNujBADv3dj5TqeAlt0irH443h6nino4brCQyzPMDlquLS9JXuEm7RGnT0IcHHftIRFf8a8E_3TuXb5FwDMxuhjVWZbFbThxFX8_2Y/s1600/Paleo+-+0138.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJnj5mSbUJ3IBuA6a9UMQUEBpoTi3HsChCnUf26cVNujBADv3dj5TqeAlt0irH443h6nino4brCQyzPMDlquLS9JXuEm7RGnT0IcHHftIRFf8a8E_3TuXb5FwDMxuhjVWZbFbThxFX8_2Y/s400/Paleo+-+0138.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287031689035266" border="0" /></a><br /><u>September 15, 2007:</u> I have a colleague at Sportsillustrated.com named <a href="http://www.solidverbal.com/" target="_blank">Dan</a> who makes videos about tailgating. We happen to both be at the USC/Nebraska game in Lincoln, so our editor suggests we meet and hang out a bit. His cameraman is one of his best childhood friends. When I announce much later that I am moving to Argentina, Dan will mention, "Hey, remember my cameraman? He's moving there, too!" That cameraman turns out to be my roommate, Josh.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZboqqKOh0XSQL_aTpjbpbc5JvFQhnDLvXJASmbQtC-QW5gOG0qp08sTyLEx-H-aGTAY7ZjMI6jDN-Jr-QuFDRr_VML1GpEVuL1_6PVN3FEj2vob2grSKeyymmfsRAwsfEFNppJfzm085b/s1600/Paleo+-+0140.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZboqqKOh0XSQL_aTpjbpbc5JvFQhnDLvXJASmbQtC-QW5gOG0qp08sTyLEx-H-aGTAY7ZjMI6jDN-Jr-QuFDRr_VML1GpEVuL1_6PVN3FEj2vob2grSKeyymmfsRAwsfEFNppJfzm085b/s400/Paleo+-+0140.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287033876340338" border="0" /></a><br /><u>Spring, 2008:</u> Even though I'd been gone from Nielsen for nearly a year, my old connections there ask me if I want to return to the company and move to Argentina to lead the new Buenos Aires Hub. Despite my flirtation with a permanent shift in my career, this offer presents an incredible challenge and opportunity. I don't need to think about it for very long and am soon packing everything I own. I fly to Buenos Aires on August 17th and Josh and I find the apartment about a month later.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQjuV-zc1TBAddFARt2-fp5MoHGL6243QVVjf_HlCs2LmnhhM_cK4QNHr2dKHn-gR0yaUYQkWBwZTDMZNsYYD_x-H5UjD8waWAQAg9CjtY7-r8fQsUhtMFkdxOQEaI9D6LP2kxzo-cTLji/s1600/Paleo+-+0181.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQjuV-zc1TBAddFARt2-fp5MoHGL6243QVVjf_HlCs2LmnhhM_cK4QNHr2dKHn-gR0yaUYQkWBwZTDMZNsYYD_x-H5UjD8waWAQAg9CjtY7-r8fQsUhtMFkdxOQEaI9D6LP2kxzo-cTLji/s400/Paleo+-+0181.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287037856603890" border="0" /></a><br /><u>Sometime in 2008:</u> Living in California, Josh befriends a cool Mexican guy named Raul.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiocXW1lPUmlTw5BDZmv9985y2EUjOzzF11n3sluXsrkN6ffbcnLDygxfb2NKB7I6hmxU-vFE2TfCcZ9HkF0dzRclH9lXj-NGZdyyFc01d4cbjqxTDpi3Yesq3s9puK1xYtaC7FeDHnE2DO/s1600/Paleo+-+0148.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiocXW1lPUmlTw5BDZmv9985y2EUjOzzF11n3sluXsrkN6ffbcnLDygxfb2NKB7I6hmxU-vFE2TfCcZ9HkF0dzRclH9lXj-NGZdyyFc01d4cbjqxTDpi3Yesq3s9puK1xYtaC7FeDHnE2DO/s400/Paleo+-+0148.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287042389051490" border="0" /></a><br /><u>October 10th, 2008:</u> At the urging of Raul, Josh hangs out with a guy named Arturo and his friends for the first time.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtdXZDqwHwz8qU4Bw7VsezNbT0I7bHH8scAabVhq77HIzr2FzR6YKfK2y0RuO9mwOKWjaeJfU9bs-vAuSSvp6_xujmbwGpByiH-96QoaB84f9psYL8Kaw9qtUwBQeLifog_0nhmhrDhli/s1600/Paleo+-+0192.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtdXZDqwHwz8qU4Bw7VsezNbT0I7bHH8scAabVhq77HIzr2FzR6YKfK2y0RuO9mwOKWjaeJfU9bs-vAuSSvp6_xujmbwGpByiH-96QoaB84f9psYL8Kaw9qtUwBQeLifog_0nhmhrDhli/s400/Paleo+-+0192.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287047628814786" border="0" /></a><br /><u>October 17th, 2008:</u> My roommate Josh introduces me to Arturo. We meet up for some drinks at El Alamo and immediately hit it off. Arturo grew up in Argentina until he was seven years old and then his family moved to the US. Like me, he is on an expat assignment. He gleefully embraces what he refers to as the "Argentine lifestyle." His apartment is the epicenter of a lively group of people whose main objective is fun. He's the type of guy that immediately makes you feel like you've been friends for a long time. That's part of the Argentine lifestyle, too, actually. After leaving the bar somewhat early (probably around 5am), we go back to Arturo's to play chess and talk politics. I finally begin to understand the beauty of a cold Fernet con Coca.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRzk5CB871s2KBPNUgM6xRyF35_QKb3AKLczTnupXBq06hmkB8SCC15bGAwxoTC0fX43Q_aluUie7Y0aWJQKSd38IWRpU7UuVRIXviY2iXdeWQExJnGcIEI2MisooPbmYlSqjldwwJVJM/s1600/Paleo+-+0210.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRzk5CB871s2KBPNUgM6xRyF35_QKb3AKLczTnupXBq06hmkB8SCC15bGAwxoTC0fX43Q_aluUie7Y0aWJQKSd38IWRpU7UuVRIXviY2iXdeWQExJnGcIEI2MisooPbmYlSqjldwwJVJM/s400/Paleo+-+0210.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287579375522946" border="0" /></a><br /><u>October 18th, 2008:</u> Arturo is having an Asado at his place. Belu has been taking a post-graduate class with Arturo and arrives with a friend. We talk for an hour, exclusively in Spanish at which time she announces that they are leaving. I boldly ask for her number and if "we can go out sometime," which doesn't translate very well into Spanish, so she thinks I just want to be friends. She gives me not just her number, but also the number of her amiga. I realize that I haven't played my cards perfectly, but I plan to call her right away.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxaZiRxzgnVxa4gzqa9EQgkZ5EkTWbiQJ_zMVBfWrDQcaH5qZShBcIxpjPGKfKPiBJsre6UZgvAthJnE6sQUt6xH1auS7-ntJl8yaspRDjJ8nMQswz-ldq-MtMa2BkrrwT5YaH1PK1Gl9/s1600/Paleo+-+0247.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxaZiRxzgnVxa4gzqa9EQgkZ5EkTWbiQJ_zMVBfWrDQcaH5qZShBcIxpjPGKfKPiBJsre6UZgvAthJnE6sQUt6xH1auS7-ntJl8yaspRDjJ8nMQswz-ldq-MtMa2BkrrwT5YaH1PK1Gl9/s400/Paleo+-+0247.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287584079351522" border="0" /></a><br />Obviously, before all that, there's the usual confluence of my parents meeting, being attracted to one another, getting married, choosing to have kids, and of course Belu's having done the same. But all of us can say that and are therefore lucky to be here. Regardless, take a look at the above list, and you realize that Belu and I had pretty long odds of ever encountering one another, let alone falling in love. But all that history merely sets the table. We still had to eat the meal!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimlLaBh9HTFMbzEK-iywUBRhzxc9-JgLNVARMjXvQpIzGE8Mv4Vht4GXVPFyNGpESz3nYwfMK8JU_TKfVd8D9voowB63lp-KSG5DYo4cyi-P-nZBGdDI3aTt6cveagThswtMovV_ySvBcj/s1600/Paleo+-+0255.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimlLaBh9HTFMbzEK-iywUBRhzxc9-JgLNVARMjXvQpIzGE8Mv4Vht4GXVPFyNGpESz3nYwfMK8JU_TKfVd8D9voowB63lp-KSG5DYo4cyi-P-nZBGdDI3aTt6cveagThswtMovV_ySvBcj/s400/Paleo+-+0255.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287587604672082" border="0" /></a><br /><u>October 25th, 2008:</u> Belu and I have our first date, but thanks to my aforementioned glitchy Spanish, she doesn't know if I thought of it that way until it begins. We go to Guido's and stuff ourselves full of pasta. Not ready for the date to end, I suggest we go for a walk. What was planned to be a simple lunch ended up a seven hour first date. When I come home, I tell Josh, "I'm going to be with that woman for a long time."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHdb3uPOTOvIHSp8zxwQ25ifhQ52tCzKQMm3F_iz1Jeo0nnB5XRgUyp3E7d47zdvy44aPAPriLj7g7BghHwMx5NF5LSyrKmOz4QPb9WZ7GEmTCpWOiZ0zBD0HlWAe3XqSr1TvfT-aXucw9/s1600/Paleo+-+0256.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHdb3uPOTOvIHSp8zxwQ25ifhQ52tCzKQMm3F_iz1Jeo0nnB5XRgUyp3E7d47zdvy44aPAPriLj7g7BghHwMx5NF5LSyrKmOz4QPb9WZ7GEmTCpWOiZ0zBD0HlWAe3XqSr1TvfT-aXucw9/s400/Paleo+-+0256.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287592039497442" border="0" /></a><br /><u>October 2008 - May 2009:</u> With every date it keeps getting better. The more I learn about Belu, the more I know that she is absolutely the ideal person for me. We eat copious amounts of pizza and sushi and ice cream and especially lots more ice cream. She teaches me Spanish better than I could have learned taking classes. We <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2009/07/carilos-way.html">travel in</a> <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2009/06/semana-santa-en-villa-general-belgrano.html">Argentina</a> and <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2009/04/jetskis-to-brazil.html">Brazil</a>. We learn to play to each others strengths, and find easy accord when we disagree.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RghbBdooCu7Rqt3jOInzUV8L2JRQp0X9RSWftlJGgA7OGO05S5Y6zI0L7G0-1aKlu9Ix1ffwC07BcmAndKNknHDp8HFymfbNhttsPc0zr3g-OKqKzj7-Amz7JpEurJGRD2wzIol3Nfln/s1600/Paleo+-+0267.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RghbBdooCu7Rqt3jOInzUV8L2JRQp0X9RSWftlJGgA7OGO05S5Y6zI0L7G0-1aKlu9Ix1ffwC07BcmAndKNknHDp8HFymfbNhttsPc0zr3g-OKqKzj7-Amz7JpEurJGRD2wzIol3Nfln/s400/Paleo+-+0267.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556287595288404450" border="0" /></a><br /><u>July 2009:</u> I take Belu back to <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/03/catching-up-july.html">Chicago</a> for her to know my family, my city, and my friends. We eat everything. My mom tells her, "You're perfect!" Though by this point I don't even need Mom's support as I'm already 100% in agreement with her.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPU3_4-aPE_3FsZTV4rkb7ZL8umqovbxt-CT-naq9li4cKu0W1ufblknUAGNPFn_h9Oudr52nnoMMMVX_52Ytg_XkPnY1ocjIR76m7BeIO3E9mgJpXlJgnNrad9acKG4UxWkmh-3ugL38p/s1600/Paleo+-+0273.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPU3_4-aPE_3FsZTV4rkb7ZL8umqovbxt-CT-naq9li4cKu0W1ufblknUAGNPFn_h9Oudr52nnoMMMVX_52Ytg_XkPnY1ocjIR76m7BeIO3E9mgJpXlJgnNrad9acKG4UxWkmh-3ugL38p/s400/Paleo+-+0273.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556288124466427922" border="0" /></a><br /><u>September 11, 2009 - May 2010:</u> Belu and I <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/03/catching-up-september.html">move in together</a>. We quickly learn how to live with each other, though it's pretty much effortless. I'm not as neat as Belu would like, but she has high standards. I strive for neaterness. We cook a lot more, but still eat a lot of ice cream. We travel to <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/06/catching-up-january-part-i.html">Argentina's</a> <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/06/catching-up-january-part-ii.html">South</a> and <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/09/catching-up-marchapril.html">its North</a>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNDq4c5rZBcxTvk-hYt0RPn2yHKko2tFMatmAL5eN4tqPe68YqxdKR8mT7fgoEa7wYe8G-sZZPsqSyCVyermEgEgbyU9ILZyexGPoDNCaEeeZrho7pzzhz8jmd1a2rbjms_GZy3aAg-Ie/s1600/Paleo+-+0291.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNDq4c5rZBcxTvk-hYt0RPn2yHKko2tFMatmAL5eN4tqPe68YqxdKR8mT7fgoEa7wYe8G-sZZPsqSyCVyermEgEgbyU9ILZyexGPoDNCaEeeZrho7pzzhz8jmd1a2rbjms_GZy3aAg-Ie/s400/Paleo+-+0291.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556288128240514322" border="0" /></a><br /><u>May 23, 2010:</u> Belu and I <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/10/catching-up-may.html">get engaged</a> on my birthday. I'm not the least bit nervous. It all feels totally natural.<br /><br />Some people talk about destiny or soul mates or preordained outcomes. I don't believe in that kind of cosmic stuff. But at the same time, it's pretty hard to see how we got to this point without at least thanking fate for putting us together. I was never sure about marriage, not for me anyway. But meeting Belu changed all that. I expected to come to Argentina, have a good time, and go on with my life. I think a lot about that first date, and what I said to Josh immediately afterward. Turns out I was underestimating the situation. And now it's official because...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmq25BCZPN-UsGI1GSs7cC-DCzGxSYBk-Z1JmFKfCy1LvTQUCdmhj3DJOQLwV-kpYTGLTz8Rwttmun4WJXBX87CdKQej2g_KTUuRmc0GvL6-3ZNEEU42BNN-MbPNApqX0DmyS-1-7Epopk/s1600/Paleo+-+0019.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmq25BCZPN-UsGI1GSs7cC-DCzGxSYBk-Z1JmFKfCy1LvTQUCdmhj3DJOQLwV-kpYTGLTz8Rwttmun4WJXBX87CdKQej2g_KTUuRmc0GvL6-3ZNEEU42BNN-MbPNApqX0DmyS-1-7Epopk/s400/Paleo+-+0019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556267677481276786" border="0" /></a><br /><u>November 15, 2010:</u> We get married. Our wedding, the party, the church, all of that big stuff isn't until April. But for various reasons, we decide it would be best to move the civil ceremony forward. It's a beautiful day, and over 40 of our friends and family are in attendance. Our judge is the same one who conducted Diego Maradona's wedding and a real jokester. I expect it to feel like a dry run, but even though we have various steps remaining, nothing about it feels like a practice. In Argentina, the civil ceremony is always separate from the grand event, but usually only by a couple of days. In our case, we have four months left to get used to it before we take our case to God and my parents and everyone else who will be coming to town. Put simply, it's one of the best days of my life.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtezOjBOPJRpfCIffNhPrFUON27YlUCBBf9NMf8GbvL7vzpnkunVlm6IVyOychOiwZcRFxm0g3b2uRJgmL6KUdgSJzQbOX-fR62BBqkBdtWFJzesKmLdXsCFPY_wP4i0hruehfrXure7s/s1600/Paleo+-+0302.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtezOjBOPJRpfCIffNhPrFUON27YlUCBBf9NMf8GbvL7vzpnkunVlm6IVyOychOiwZcRFxm0g3b2uRJgmL6KUdgSJzQbOX-fR62BBqkBdtWFJzesKmLdXsCFPY_wP4i0hruehfrXure7s/s400/Paleo+-+0302.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556288138342303234" border="0" /></a><br />This past November I was home for Thanksgiving. I went back to my old office, took care of my currently vacant condo, spent a lot of time with my family, and saw some friends I hardly ever get to see. When I decided to move to Buenos Aires, it was supposed to be temporary. I was going to meet the objectives at the top of this posting. Going home reminded me that my mindset was awfully naïve about the impact the move would have on me. My life in Chicago was pretty darn good. I sacrificed a whole lot to come here. If it weren't for Belu, perhaps I would be doubting whether it was worth it. But I know that whatever I have given up, I've gained far more. No matter what went well or badly here, against very long odds, I found the love of my life. And for that I am feeling pretty proud of myself these days. But overwhelmingly, every day, I know I'm lucky. Maybe this was supposed to happen. Or maybe it wasn't and Belu and I made it happen. Either way, I'm the one who gets to be so happy about it.<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/I1wg1DNHbNU?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/I1wg1DNHbNU?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-77707865334799902482010-12-10T10:44:00.005-03:002010-12-17T10:00:44.426-03:00On The Despedida (not mine)<span style="font-style: italic;">...or An Ode to Those Who Couldn't Stay</span><br /><br />The first time I noticed, it was because of Katsu.<br /><br />He was a quiet charmer. When I went to <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2008/12/sun-over-beach.html">Monte Hermoso</a>, it was clear that the entire Ultimate league adored the guy. When he asked about becoming the first "new addition" to Big Red, the reaction was unanimous: "He's exactly the kind of person we are looking for!" Katsu was a superb teammate, helping me keep my temper in check and always carrying with him positive spirit. What comes back to me nowadays are a lot of small moments in practice or games, or at the choripan afterwards. We talked about the different cultures around the world, how the Columbians complained about the Argentines being "cold." I contrasted that idea with the way Americans tend to talk about work and careers, but avoid more personal topics like family. Katsu noted, "Yeah, really personal in Japan is to talk about the weather." Everybody laughed. Once, after asking what we call love handles in English, he complimented me by saying mine were impressive. Katsu was just an excellent person to be around. And then quite suddenly he announced that his company was moving him to Peru.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_uGkFEyR6NPRnMJL0nuO73DNNnsTq0YakUnf3KOTfkPHmam4Lpn0DH-1SLLOOBBRmjj6G2zo5XvVW7_EkAd-yuBseWe550COvMrVNh7XTrTv2SF9ISvrCz_pdf2f6RL8a2tYYoccKjtD/s1600/katsu01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_uGkFEyR6NPRnMJL0nuO73DNNnsTq0YakUnf3KOTfkPHmam4Lpn0DH-1SLLOOBBRmjj6G2zo5XvVW7_EkAd-yuBseWe550COvMrVNh7XTrTv2SF9ISvrCz_pdf2f6RL8a2tYYoccKjtD/s400/katsu01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548855407362753970" border="0" /></a>When someone is leaving for good, it is customary that they have a party called a <span style="font-style: italic;">despedida</span>. The verb <span style="font-style: italic;">despedir</span> means a lot of things - to emit, to fire an employee, to be ejected from a moving car... you get the picture. But in this case, we're talking about <span style="font-style: italic;">despedirse</span> which means, simply, "to say goodbye." I suppose they're meant to celebrate the time you've spent with the person and hope that you'll cross paths again in the future. The thing is, Argentina is <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> far away from the rest of the world. And everyone is going back to so many different places, there will be no getting the band back together. So these parties are inherently bittersweet.<br /><br />This is the life of an <span style="font-style: italic;">extranjero</span>. You tend to meet other foreigners, and eventually, most of them leave. And once they're gone, you're left with the lament that you didn't spend enough time with them when they were here. That you could have talked about a lot more than the weather. Katsu's still in Peru, and I sincerely hope that we'll see him again soon.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3lpCLGFc2qMY6KZGk8wH5UcighP1sGqwryxwUyR5Ao6lrsaJNEiIXKGWpguPdnuyGE3-cAvyOhtHaXSxyicZhNfiBcySd5FqGVw7Dikktr_726BRHHYc7nqZzFptTatEArg3gQJHlcWr/s1600/katsu1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3lpCLGFc2qMY6KZGk8wH5UcighP1sGqwryxwUyR5Ao6lrsaJNEiIXKGWpguPdnuyGE3-cAvyOhtHaXSxyicZhNfiBcySd5FqGVw7Dikktr_726BRHHYc7nqZzFptTatEArg3gQJHlcWr/s400/katsu1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548855405286214466" border="0" /></a>The first time I met Josh, he was wearing a Michigan shirt. We talked very briefly in our broken Spanish (his better than mine). He seemed like a good kid, and well, he had already won me over with the shirt and all. Upon arrival in Monte Hermoso, I really didn't know anyone, and the organization was pretty loose about where to bunk. So I just wandered into one of the apartments we had rented. I didn't realize I would be in an American-only house, but that's how things turned out. It was Josh and his girlfriend Julia, two Nicks, and me. I felt like the kid who had just moved to a new school and needed to make friends. Josh and Julia had recently graduated college and decided that instead of the standard issue job search, they would be taking their talents to South America. But neither was your typical American short-timer. They realized what an opportunity they had living in Argentina. They could have easily gone the banal route embracing the party scene and little else. We see those kinds of people come and go all the time. But they actively sought out an Argentine life, living with locals, selling their homemade baked goods at the San Telmo market to help make the rent. Over many months, Josh and I battled to see who could go longer without a haircut. He won. By a lot. Julia began with the thickest American accent I've ever heard and ended up fluent, able to communicate perfectly with anyone except the drunkest of hobos.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnvpM38d500wYXwARbeiMLopYk2JjPkvX_YnVUVX43CF-amDMKro3NlwFqkE1m-r9GI1-kBQ2LgheL8EZySuyL2E5-mKriFPtKj5lFwtwxdchDwn7jw3HkogFCtlCXvtINX7jr66NjWKD/s1600/IMG_6082.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnvpM38d500wYXwARbeiMLopYk2JjPkvX_YnVUVX43CF-amDMKro3NlwFqkE1m-r9GI1-kBQ2LgheL8EZySuyL2E5-mKriFPtKj5lFwtwxdchDwn7jw3HkogFCtlCXvtINX7jr66NjWKD/s400/IMG_6082.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548856902979906466" border="0" /></a>It was amazing to me, being the old dude, to see them change and grow during their time here. They may not have realized it at the time, but it's clear to me that their Buenos Aires experience, though short in the great scheme of things will have a long-lasting impact on their lives. They avoided the beaten path, even after they chose the uncommon direction. Clearly the same goes for me and everybody else who's truly <a href="http://juliasabroadblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/long-in-teethor-hair.html" target="_blank">living here</a>. It seemed so abrupt, but probably not to them, when they eventually decided it was time to return to the US and get on with it. But not before they meandered their way across South America. These kids know how to do it. Like Katsu, I wish I would have found more time for them. Now they're in Philadelphia, surely giving the city all it can handle.<br /><br />Kyla was ready for something new. So she decided to come south, and brought her boyfriend Mike along. She's the best kind of extrovert - someone who is profoundly happy to see everyone all the time. When she hugs people she really means it. She seems too sweet to be making double-entendres, yet she drops hilarious ones at the best unexpected moments. I don't think I know anyone in the world who is a better fit for their profession than Kyla. She teaches kindergarten and even did so here in Buenos Aires - in Spanish. I got to see her around little kids a few times, and it was amazing to watch. She taught my friend's eight year old daughter how to play poker. Her positive spirit embodied the fledgling ultimate league perfectly. She always rooted for everybody.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpA4eOZrlLRqjLVuHSHpmqmcN3gfBmoPi6PUIKnrCORxhgNqRIUlfylo-rje3at87myY826A7dBwZmy3zUwItIjJ8e4DXFhFAfKyoeDYtsRHAzcWhl-PYqqEsu5QKXgTtv_U5sF4ZLX_pC/s1600/kylaymike.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpA4eOZrlLRqjLVuHSHpmqmcN3gfBmoPi6PUIKnrCORxhgNqRIUlfylo-rje3at87myY826A7dBwZmy3zUwItIjJ8e4DXFhFAfKyoeDYtsRHAzcWhl-PYqqEsu5QKXgTtv_U5sF4ZLX_pC/s400/kylaymike.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549063426651545842" border="0" /></a>At first blush, Mike struck me as an incredibly nice guy and one of the best Ultimate players I'd ever seen. As I got to know him better, it was quickly clear that such a description sells him short. Mike and Kyla were two of the central figures in starting up a third team (a required element if you actually want to have a league). When they asked me if that sounded like a cool idea and if I wanted to join in, I was honored and excited. Thus Big Red was born almost exactly two years ago in an official meeting outside of the Recoleta Cemetary. If Kyla has the perfect profession for her, Mike Foster has the perfect <span style="font-style: italic;">apellido</span>. Webster's defines foster as "affording, receiving, or sharing nurture or parental care though not related by blood or legal ties." And that describes exactly what he gave a league that was poised to grow from toddling to running all over the neighborhood.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_liVLHn_XN-LdvgIHRtWhL-jT_H84mucgWMcHtvf9KuMVaBLBMjS8NXJtCYF2qHzj6UpwOqCyuZ6Sy8iCxC7wH3kBpih7pq_koiKYOFZZFldI0C5xaLKaHRAkiIWisMwSi_QS8qSQXG_/s1600/bigred.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_liVLHn_XN-LdvgIHRtWhL-jT_H84mucgWMcHtvf9KuMVaBLBMjS8NXJtCYF2qHzj6UpwOqCyuZ6Sy8iCxC7wH3kBpih7pq_koiKYOFZZFldI0C5xaLKaHRAkiIWisMwSi_QS8qSQXG_/s400/bigred.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548855417051601090" border="0" /></a>I've been playing Ultimate for a long time now, but I never thought I would become this good a player. We don't exactly hold rigorous practices in the Chicago rec league. I can't begin to explain how much Mike taught me about this game. Ever since my <a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/2007/08/road-gets-longer.html">knee injury</a>, I have had to accept certain physical limitations on the field, but with Mike's training, the rest of my game has surpassed my wildest expectations. Far more importantly, Mike embodies the Spirit of the Game like nobody I've ever met, so much so that it infects teammates and opponents alike.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ABBktUupEqo6qSZOuwRM4PLjlMsoPRYX0_3Jk-uG7he1uzX1w7mF7YEn3B_BfSUlRV2Ckxe1rMFZjx1hLKPhNdNc_O6yDiRceYgctCKFZ-8iGjLe8ZlNYoPlWatkGmJA_9rIAHtyVFqo/s1600/mikegetsup.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ABBktUupEqo6qSZOuwRM4PLjlMsoPRYX0_3Jk-uG7he1uzX1w7mF7YEn3B_BfSUlRV2Ckxe1rMFZjx1hLKPhNdNc_O6yDiRceYgctCKFZ-8iGjLe8ZlNYoPlWatkGmJA_9rIAHtyVFqo/s400/mikegetsup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549063431859933666" border="0" /></a>Thanks in great part to his efforts and presence, we not only have a thriving league, we sent a national team to <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/05/catching-up-november-part-ii.html">compete in Colombia</a>. He is a man who left an indelible mark here. The despedida for Mike and Kyla was especially hard. I think everybody knew it was the end of an era for all of us. It was an era that mattered, but more importantly, it was fun as hell.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17flOswd4JpxiD25BgUcy7SY1mZXs4EooHVhumwYKa3wh5V9P4oAQ6RhxmPQLef5ZMQSHFEe3O0bf3wB15rjuAM4TnKc9pVdfzRSbNoHbHecfOiaQ2UcH9EfQsRuaUzMDUXRjtIGNUiXZ/s1600/teamtruco2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17flOswd4JpxiD25BgUcy7SY1mZXs4EooHVhumwYKa3wh5V9P4oAQ6RhxmPQLef5ZMQSHFEe3O0bf3wB15rjuAM4TnKc9pVdfzRSbNoHbHecfOiaQ2UcH9EfQsRuaUzMDUXRjtIGNUiXZ/s400/teamtruco2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549063436549490322" border="0" /></a>There are more despedidas all the time. Roxi's already gone. Steve's about to close the book on over a decade in Argentina. My old roommate Josh is about to head back to LA. A whole slew of Ultimate players are heading back to their respective colleges or other parts of the world.<br /><br />Sometimes I have trouble understanding. Why would these people leave? But I arrived under very different circumstances. I had a job and a contract. Before too long, I found a wife. Don't get me wrong, I can't be angry at them for leaving. I just miss them.<br /><br />Still I know that one day this will happen to me. That's going to be a million times harder. It will be like having a <span style="font-style: italic;">despedida</span> for everyone - all my coworkers, the entire Ultimate league, friends, Belu's family - all at once. It's a good reminder to get busy <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/search?q=aprovechar">aprovechando</a> all the time I may have left.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipFSM2R5OHcCRXQJoAVdVSpKw-uXeC3DFE1DJiFYelYM8JUjqJq9fyEtkK5GXlyrpbsd6YRR9sZC0XmhxS63eSkpBbLKDdWGlPTGadSHV8reikiGAdbPPhaxXY_Pt5Qu80cKqA9g60NQD-/s1600/kyla1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipFSM2R5OHcCRXQJoAVdVSpKw-uXeC3DFE1DJiFYelYM8JUjqJq9fyEtkK5GXlyrpbsd6YRR9sZC0XmhxS63eSkpBbLKDdWGlPTGadSHV8reikiGAdbPPhaxXY_Pt5Qu80cKqA9g60NQD-/s400/kyla1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548855414340808242" border="0" /></a>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-43411025372967510632010-12-08T18:25:00.012-03:002010-12-08T19:59:05.432-03:00Europe Trip, Part 2: What We SawThe <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/11/europe-trip-part-1-what-we-did.html">last update</a> went into detail about what Belu and I did in Europe. Today will be largely photos, the prettiest ones I could scrounge up. Click on any photo to embiggen, and I think most of 'em are worth it. Please enjoy!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj596SN3krVcoTVET-j0QLKHk1spFwANCprVJNTWDT5hNzqw1na0Ur7wt_KdfSiGQeVQl1Aa-WX9lGD6w_A1ZNHmCY_tQMtuTQOtm49RdVlgmopsP8LaEVz-uO2N3RZkbb3xbQvw2RQNsjF/s1600/a1_puertadelsol.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj596SN3krVcoTVET-j0QLKHk1spFwANCprVJNTWDT5hNzqw1na0Ur7wt_KdfSiGQeVQl1Aa-WX9lGD6w_A1ZNHmCY_tQMtuTQOtm49RdVlgmopsP8LaEVz-uO2N3RZkbb3xbQvw2RQNsjF/s400/a1_puertadelsol.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548438652072262498" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Puerta del Sol in Madrid<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohBwVWxNFb6-hXqYyeZtHkChZLJJOYYJs9U4CunmyYbxMUYmcKT9lnjTm34ZUbRPfKISsRrJvd_KZwwwtiNQBg20V2rDAR3soNeNgJ27bEZHe6zuFtynVeKHrvlalvjcYXQz67qbqBxu3/s1600/a1b_plazareal.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohBwVWxNFb6-hXqYyeZtHkChZLJJOYYJs9U4CunmyYbxMUYmcKT9lnjTm34ZUbRPfKISsRrJvd_KZwwwtiNQBg20V2rDAR3soNeNgJ27bEZHe6zuFtynVeKHrvlalvjcYXQz67qbqBxu3/s400/a1b_plazareal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548438637286482578" border="0" /></a>Getting ready to start the day in Plaza Real, Madrid<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIUXpzmkIhX6MVWSHIRWLJVddWIzDt_1vjqUPxz7vryVq5JXO4uxPr1N_0ZzmFatClw3hN_l_aGzsZEyVw8cSrxJxjESwoENRCi3l-PqVmgTG2OOrwZoXJX3xGkg2v7ExjT7wUx147NGh/s1600/a2_segovia.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIUXpzmkIhX6MVWSHIRWLJVddWIzDt_1vjqUPxz7vryVq5JXO4uxPr1N_0ZzmFatClw3hN_l_aGzsZEyVw8cSrxJxjESwoENRCi3l-PqVmgTG2OOrwZoXJX3xGkg2v7ExjT7wUx147NGh/s400/a2_segovia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548438631862994098" border="0" /></a>Roman viaduct in Segovia<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXgT5wgrDtu0CfkEkuIGtzMupTnZrRcIdbXN995zumPWwb7mzciriqBJ8FnkO6BMcLQryee7K7aPduuGds9Hrwq5NFCgsn2QrDzBbISEShpBRwK6mdcXvVjvdulGIy_K2AdrjVqsWn6kS/s1600/a3_segovia.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXgT5wgrDtu0CfkEkuIGtzMupTnZrRcIdbXN995zumPWwb7mzciriqBJ8FnkO6BMcLQryee7K7aPduuGds9Hrwq5NFCgsn2QrDzBbISEShpBRwK6mdcXvVjvdulGIy_K2AdrjVqsWn6kS/s400/a3_segovia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548438618784318706" border="0" /></a>Main plaza in Segovia<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcU5NaFZHmSXr7n2w-SBbAV8wbWpRqghZo9L9SMQPq9etlNBTZZMtKtR-8yXAoSHhIT_33S1T7ZH0cPzYI8oKt7C2tIn48o7AheJyq2dEbff0gJ4yonfgBvHI1YHmqhEzS-NaA_TLE40Q/s1600/a4_segovia.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcU5NaFZHmSXr7n2w-SBbAV8wbWpRqghZo9L9SMQPq9etlNBTZZMtKtR-8yXAoSHhIT_33S1T7ZH0cPzYI8oKt7C2tIn48o7AheJyq2dEbff0gJ4yonfgBvHI1YHmqhEzS-NaA_TLE40Q/s400/a4_segovia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548436796993124210" border="0" /></a>Segovian street, approaching the viaduct<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eIodXnyWM3V-qPZuXiL7ZRcRdag63bg0az-C-lCo-O41Z4bVnXkYMb8d0Lp0SRkusAMEGXjxVbp8IVyZLA6z_Uxr89NtNXchI4ToME4PCSUB9sAp0RfC7pmJ-H1fKXqlEQOH2c0-ahVr/s1600/a5_segovia.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eIodXnyWM3V-qPZuXiL7ZRcRdag63bg0az-C-lCo-O41Z4bVnXkYMb8d0Lp0SRkusAMEGXjxVbp8IVyZLA6z_Uxr89NtNXchI4ToME4PCSUB9sAp0RfC7pmJ-H1fKXqlEQOH2c0-ahVr/s400/a5_segovia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548436783664250306" border="0" /></a>Cathedral in Segovia<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCko8qKlzhnBo4xgARJ9-4qCd_x0W5kj8bpbFAUDrF1KkpntdXvMAVpNHq9MOTsv53HXbgU9cGMg7NXS8UkzQnjnieDHxrYBgCPLhyphenhyphenejEWxcOwu1YQmSY2I77i7fufp_2_f-Urk62ZiTA/s1600/a6_toledo.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCko8qKlzhnBo4xgARJ9-4qCd_x0W5kj8bpbFAUDrF1KkpntdXvMAVpNHq9MOTsv53HXbgU9cGMg7NXS8UkzQnjnieDHxrYBgCPLhyphenhyphenejEWxcOwu1YQmSY2I77i7fufp_2_f-Urk62ZiTA/s400/a6_toledo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548436769876484930" border="0" /></a>View of the Alhambra in Toledo<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUGLtpS9K7nYnrzsxr2518wXKgagMs-SSIIEUnDdN5xDFVDZAyW6GpR7Hd3bs2OxsG-Wr6dZvwgu_HNLw4UMRGNVv_pAVSAJIyYfmPijGrzIWKtNL3_oOU7s3UkD8tpk-VXAgt0DYzvYK/s1600/b1_barcelona.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUGLtpS9K7nYnrzsxr2518wXKgagMs-SSIIEUnDdN5xDFVDZAyW6GpR7Hd3bs2OxsG-Wr6dZvwgu_HNLw4UMRGNVv_pAVSAJIyYfmPijGrzIWKtNL3_oOU7s3UkD8tpk-VXAgt0DYzvYK/s400/b1_barcelona.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548436763581128802" border="0" /></a>Park Güell in Barcelona<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-M93XPfLlfrEUnvRuya_eRoHxLV4YLKCpTS4gzBVCI9jqgv881wgKXa_6mTw9XROzblCAMD6XcZshohxMFeliUBOOZj_haDUoY7b09MZ1oYEPwEX9ITuQrsYxpZFwRrEWXrnPUDvf3ii3/s1600/b2_meatlady.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-M93XPfLlfrEUnvRuya_eRoHxLV4YLKCpTS4gzBVCI9jqgv881wgKXa_6mTw9XROzblCAMD6XcZshohxMFeliUBOOZj_haDUoY7b09MZ1oYEPwEX9ITuQrsYxpZFwRrEWXrnPUDvf3ii3/s400/b2_meatlady.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548436752387464914" border="0" /></a>A Barcelonan woman awaiting her meat<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMAy4XC1RY7GBDTWZmVvKQ-adulsGH6lCPmZDJh4S3NZIvZAJeHN6Irg5D3ZbN4R0w_OJDJyZdDL0DNEYKm2eZ4014fQ2G2HrPdqXxHRukIHzFa9Q5ij9DpgcW0zchT2YQWzoJC-ejwwU/s1600/b3_sagradafamilia.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMAy4XC1RY7GBDTWZmVvKQ-adulsGH6lCPmZDJh4S3NZIvZAJeHN6Irg5D3ZbN4R0w_OJDJyZdDL0DNEYKm2eZ4014fQ2G2HrPdqXxHRukIHzFa9Q5ij9DpgcW0zchT2YQWzoJC-ejwwU/s400/b3_sagradafamilia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548435718527794258" border="0" /></a>The interior of La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbXGVoOqzNc1Z7CMO4DI1dPI9PGb3H5BuskSWIpBfNaL1tn8x_haybFZ9JD12E8mU-Ql_K9686kWvanE2vc7YPbGyPTmee47mSbONp-cfsu7_gLpUJ_hKPGp6GfmbjvJPDAPBGZdEBhhf/s1600/b4_manbalcony.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 390px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbXGVoOqzNc1Z7CMO4DI1dPI9PGb3H5BuskSWIpBfNaL1tn8x_haybFZ9JD12E8mU-Ql_K9686kWvanE2vc7YPbGyPTmee47mSbONp-cfsu7_gLpUJ_hKPGp6GfmbjvJPDAPBGZdEBhhf/s400/b4_manbalcony.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548435709040622722" border="0" /></a>Gracia neighborhood in Barcelona<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Bk3mf4_sSNAoZuQYyGXQKb1Q-o6WsKzgpPVLenJB0LA4b1PLgF5ykDlXkYWyjk2a_oKAeLa79lAAVvQPo8dW_iWzS0fC8cD0Qnaa7CyPu5cYGxuwfdaMRDDPQjlKGOZ_p5kMrowpABNb/s1600/b5_sunset.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Bk3mf4_sSNAoZuQYyGXQKb1Q-o6WsKzgpPVLenJB0LA4b1PLgF5ykDlXkYWyjk2a_oKAeLa79lAAVvQPo8dW_iWzS0fC8cD0Qnaa7CyPu5cYGxuwfdaMRDDPQjlKGOZ_p5kMrowpABNb/s400/b5_sunset.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548435699916215714" border="0" /></a>Our last night in Barcelona featured a better view than we expected, at least for a little while.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00LfdaIV1leKVbzIePr2gYnq8yoSyoMOXB-WDRL-rCEHPPEeyCaXc94mOwyR5p4pEZ81-GPQhyEyKZ9yCtNgUdJ0upHrCcqFoKBZAa9iY5vomErH482CwEiq-IVHS_0XbETauCqVNyJgY/s1600/b6_belsmercado.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00LfdaIV1leKVbzIePr2gYnq8yoSyoMOXB-WDRL-rCEHPPEeyCaXc94mOwyR5p4pEZ81-GPQhyEyKZ9yCtNgUdJ0upHrCcqFoKBZAa9iY5vomErH482CwEiq-IVHS_0XbETauCqVNyJgY/s400/b6_belsmercado.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548435686222632034" border="0" /></a>Belu in a bustling market in Barcelona<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSdanpC2ufGmko5PquLayJgxSFFvQMXmgdzivEU7MlQHBY1FAHE4uNpX5Dkd9IiYYnkGzh6UsNMLsVPVCk8AghGcqYNCbn3lr4CDTHtVfQ2jXyWqu92PpND2SsVsC2GXHaZy5V1TXfDR6/s1600/b7_mercado.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSdanpC2ufGmko5PquLayJgxSFFvQMXmgdzivEU7MlQHBY1FAHE4uNpX5Dkd9IiYYnkGzh6UsNMLsVPVCk8AghGcqYNCbn3lr4CDTHtVfQ2jXyWqu92PpND2SsVsC2GXHaZy5V1TXfDR6/s400/b7_mercado.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548435679958163890" border="0" /></a>Talking politics at a cafe in the middle of the market<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm96C-iy6O5n5L7GR85qXf1OrkSwgghr3Dlxy2tvrOty97haruMxbXhGgugKdSurHKhyphenhyphenaPZaK3frLC0LGP1J-1li6MCmU6a72wEpH87INcqRjw3GJ6ebuelZSWlSSulC2TP2DcWVhaBDQm/s1600/c1_birdman.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm96C-iy6O5n5L7GR85qXf1OrkSwgghr3Dlxy2tvrOty97haruMxbXhGgugKdSurHKhyphenhyphenaPZaK3frLC0LGP1J-1li6MCmU6a72wEpH87INcqRjw3GJ6ebuelZSWlSSulC2TP2DcWVhaBDQm/s400/c1_birdman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548434519681327378" border="0" /></a>Feeding the birds outside of Notre Dame<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9eQ5RebSDO0FdXTfxc7w-LWh_5V5RMtJjz17xdPvEoPn7LaE08pckMm2lMqnyNSTl95OEBifT-r8aeupKAoFpFiY02wKU-SNufT8RwSt7h9gWphBqTNdLT_0rmdv6fzYVmsIwGel0jkY/s1600/c2_trocadero.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9eQ5RebSDO0FdXTfxc7w-LWh_5V5RMtJjz17xdPvEoPn7LaE08pckMm2lMqnyNSTl95OEBifT-r8aeupKAoFpFiY02wKU-SNufT8RwSt7h9gWphBqTNdLT_0rmdv6fzYVmsIwGel0jkY/s400/c2_trocadero.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548434511232884690" border="0" /></a>Le Trocadero as viewed from the Eiffel Tower<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65RDPZ96Qqau-V5ZEtparyoqcyVFW5sh9DDQwf_ROXLQYpJJE1Tz-m51uSl5fX5j8-VsSWto4KJ9bSABvrdkoXprR5RtHT8dC8gO5wAlhs8Q6V35OxCBY7SH3wVmgwKKLfTizM4ZtDPZw/s1600/c3_fasldkj.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65RDPZ96Qqau-V5ZEtparyoqcyVFW5sh9DDQwf_ROXLQYpJJE1Tz-m51uSl5fX5j8-VsSWto4KJ9bSABvrdkoXprR5RtHT8dC8gO5wAlhs8Q6V35OxCBY7SH3wVmgwKKLfTizM4ZtDPZw/s400/c3_fasldkj.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548434501441152018" border="0" /></a>Hospital des Invalides and a lot more of Paris<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauoBDtOy0QnSrqZ1GkQMf4XTMICkeMwd4tMIJcO9F5VO70FOkpqPf-2zRSh-QD_GSG4F4gWXrtPTvB_HOxpkFCtR1_krWkfOu1eGh9o3e0oVS7lTKc3sc1ORWeapzMDRrskK_90xASd7q/s1600/c4_calle.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauoBDtOy0QnSrqZ1GkQMf4XTMICkeMwd4tMIJcO9F5VO70FOkpqPf-2zRSh-QD_GSG4F4gWXrtPTvB_HOxpkFCtR1_krWkfOu1eGh9o3e0oVS7lTKc3sc1ORWeapzMDRrskK_90xASd7q/s400/c4_calle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548434493549760994" border="0" /></a>Street dedicated to Edward VII in Paris<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kOur1H4rTQ6FDH32mIP2ELfIDXYVYV2qCQxLab911EFDEGtN7XY59wpaier7BHtHUA2__iTxEhQwMplawmTtZx3lvrxMm2UsnG3xa7b0Cl9l5T6S4S6Z4CkKsXwhmaqd9oOFhBktQ1B2/s1600/c5_sacrecoeur.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kOur1H4rTQ6FDH32mIP2ELfIDXYVYV2qCQxLab911EFDEGtN7XY59wpaier7BHtHUA2__iTxEhQwMplawmTtZx3lvrxMm2UsnG3xa7b0Cl9l5T6S4S6Z4CkKsXwhmaqd9oOFhBktQ1B2/s400/c5_sacrecoeur.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548434488815397698" border="0" /></a>Paris from the Sacré-Cœur<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6fTZpe3nvfvgkWNLZLCcU40sPvAUJXVX8_0d7CMtbrG8NkWguWlqlAOZTLfqZXlQMnRdyeFzqxafWebJnmmXy7F-yK3f1KopyR4dyBKKpqwfwaq5rCDUUpqf11laUDqy_cPk7oH0xKcl/s1600/c6_birdman2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6fTZpe3nvfvgkWNLZLCcU40sPvAUJXVX8_0d7CMtbrG8NkWguWlqlAOZTLfqZXlQMnRdyeFzqxafWebJnmmXy7F-yK3f1KopyR4dyBKKpqwfwaq5rCDUUpqf11laUDqy_cPk7oH0xKcl/s400/c6_birdman2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548432818182475026" border="0" /></a>Another bird aficionado in Paris<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXffPfBPzMwWGoOetIT05TcRx8qRVINY_itrmYsXNA6O8i0i8cl6ih3i5TJndHa9qbLNVeXtWwMt-JbIIiqOs1QtnsRXJo-Suz4dCr2nMJbd7mPEXvgrkU0KzyH7qkLUFTAIGkNFQfd4g/s1600/e1_geneve.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXffPfBPzMwWGoOetIT05TcRx8qRVINY_itrmYsXNA6O8i0i8cl6ih3i5TJndHa9qbLNVeXtWwMt-JbIIiqOs1QtnsRXJo-Suz4dCr2nMJbd7mPEXvgrkU0KzyH7qkLUFTAIGkNFQfd4g/s400/e1_geneve.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548432813822082802" border="0" /></a>Geneva<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YKSaMItsOTKhL4HxLMDqE-Q5R4NsgEh8xPFMr52RJCid7E42Vb4TrNspKAldcUispmBE67lU7Nzy5Q1FHZJKCO-ua-v3EHCBCJxzZVAK7jo4zN27LKwZOibCPXxa17rM2LS1Tn0Xvqza/s1600/e2_ajedrez.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YKSaMItsOTKhL4HxLMDqE-Q5R4NsgEh8xPFMr52RJCid7E42Vb4TrNspKAldcUispmBE67lU7Nzy5Q1FHZJKCO-ua-v3EHCBCJxzZVAK7jo4zN27LKwZOibCPXxa17rM2LS1Tn0Xvqza/s400/e2_ajedrez.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548432800455969794" border="0" /></a>Playing chess in Geneva<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuIg3koaAatPkaeAJfg4mbPgTty8_Fu3w_FZPKGnvT6S0hJYVWz5DZ1CgC9P6p-YvxaNSnkdDssMWmr66uBT0Bz6EQoMx3COlwbb36mSx2GAUUY8Y51fknVQuxfCEovuyn2nUFK2n6Dhot/s1600/f1_grancanal.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuIg3koaAatPkaeAJfg4mbPgTty8_Fu3w_FZPKGnvT6S0hJYVWz5DZ1CgC9P6p-YvxaNSnkdDssMWmr66uBT0Bz6EQoMx3COlwbb36mSx2GAUUY8Y51fknVQuxfCEovuyn2nUFK2n6Dhot/s400/f1_grancanal.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548432795744551074" border="0" /></a>The Grand Canal in Venice<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4caozl5A8uc-zHhjDWgXQew7nGsUIrPA4DClOx4L7wvDdaC-1t7Lz5WmM4pzGt-_yJqqdFDRybPGy-PznRjwEllxrUnDWlDUaQcZ5ySOEfCmMKGNalqExV3ws4NUPqQQS_YUBZNueQvN/s1600/f2_piazza_san_marco.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4caozl5A8uc-zHhjDWgXQew7nGsUIrPA4DClOx4L7wvDdaC-1t7Lz5WmM4pzGt-_yJqqdFDRybPGy-PznRjwEllxrUnDWlDUaQcZ5ySOEfCmMKGNalqExV3ws4NUPqQQS_YUBZNueQvN/s400/f2_piazza_san_marco.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548432794527107618" border="0" /></a>Piazza San Marco in Venice<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDihIsAq0xIHqXbMvAnFOThb2-IjXXbVIZla-EuEoz2QXZLZZz0SLOuKMNN27nI39ZvZowfIG-1QSaiND43PgUcRU70MOgEXEHIQpaokxyr60PAOcermYLsRw4qhnImI6qQBqI1RwRAfYP/s1600/f3_vista1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDihIsAq0xIHqXbMvAnFOThb2-IjXXbVIZla-EuEoz2QXZLZZz0SLOuKMNN27nI39ZvZowfIG-1QSaiND43PgUcRU70MOgEXEHIQpaokxyr60PAOcermYLsRw4qhnImI6qQBqI1RwRAfYP/s400/f3_vista1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548431601782232930" border="0" /></a>Venice<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJw0uwtH5lmnYOfZLNXbf6wuA9JDh3Zib51qkAsa4tgAFZW-6kLmlGD9vIMSWyKbwV_3L0sfhdjnBqe6tg0lkL54DjZB1feignCVEsNSim_lPWRPy9bCGukLiMTmdcR22r2dIOsPiumwkh/s1600/f4_vista2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJw0uwtH5lmnYOfZLNXbf6wuA9JDh3Zib51qkAsa4tgAFZW-6kLmlGD9vIMSWyKbwV_3L0sfhdjnBqe6tg0lkL54DjZB1feignCVEsNSim_lPWRPy9bCGukLiMTmdcR22r2dIOsPiumwkh/s400/f4_vista2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548431593861357778" border="0" /></a>More Venice<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hYH05KIMCfu6iENHsP6zxDdH5UQg2GWxpg5A3vduUMHHJRPsIqwPSxSf6Owf9ZDebOkw1HSBfeJdpu8n_4z_socPOWcH4Se1FfLpsmbTgC0qMuXf-XGQuZW5jmUTRP8EnG-i0Mh1puij/s1600/f5_espejo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hYH05KIMCfu6iENHsP6zxDdH5UQg2GWxpg5A3vduUMHHJRPsIqwPSxSf6Owf9ZDebOkw1HSBfeJdpu8n_4z_socPOWcH4Se1FfLpsmbTgC0qMuXf-XGQuZW5jmUTRP8EnG-i0Mh1puij/s400/f5_espejo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548431584177974450" border="0" /></a>A different view from the gondola<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fo3_ciXl3TjNDwTzVpEx7WI3z7GZXuZKdJrqgdkUHSd-WHobV52E3URzGwgZnbeGzK2Pzhdr0IE2kNmAZsENcgg4xIMUUWxv_VFpEZDcsE-oa3yzf5ZV4ax7A30X8DM9XkD0pbhnxdHS/s1600/f6_munchkins.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fo3_ciXl3TjNDwTzVpEx7WI3z7GZXuZKdJrqgdkUHSd-WHobV52E3URzGwgZnbeGzK2Pzhdr0IE2kNmAZsENcgg4xIMUUWxv_VFpEZDcsE-oa3yzf5ZV4ax7A30X8DM9XkD0pbhnxdHS/s400/f6_munchkins.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548431581046218994" border="0" /></a>Venice was overrun by short, Asian ladies with sharp elbows and quick camera trigger fingers. But these two seemed nice.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFvtW9SWtGm9whwKjXA1zBo-aULnwJMdIirWIhn9sZWuU5jTeGmaFsrDr5UCbZ_mTh8wy0BiXfeI0EMwdLgpYyLiliQL8ioPsVBPJ7U1TfGbLSbGV3LNQdH8nCIGnN9gYQBY6xRKL2e_j/s1600/f7_canalcito.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFvtW9SWtGm9whwKjXA1zBo-aULnwJMdIirWIhn9sZWuU5jTeGmaFsrDr5UCbZ_mTh8wy0BiXfeI0EMwdLgpYyLiliQL8ioPsVBPJ7U1TfGbLSbGV3LNQdH8nCIGnN9gYQBY6xRKL2e_j/s400/f7_canalcito.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548431570136415298" border="0" /></a>A small canal in Venice<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv6P9TWhi-GxoYM9yIOL4xm-UXQ_ReyY7kmU1nqLw0V9emjzG4gvDLAQ2770YZPKl7N6jvItgTWa7sukmhGd2-zCoSX5c7aJ3ZmCkNkXqA7incmw2stfhyphenhyphennvIgFer1tTn0GAbZmFOSOAsC/s1600/g1_arno.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv6P9TWhi-GxoYM9yIOL4xm-UXQ_ReyY7kmU1nqLw0V9emjzG4gvDLAQ2770YZPKl7N6jvItgTWa7sukmhGd2-zCoSX5c7aJ3ZmCkNkXqA7incmw2stfhyphenhyphennvIgFer1tTn0GAbZmFOSOAsC/s400/g1_arno.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548430387736568370" border="0" /></a>The Arno in Florence<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQedJuZF22SqR3DvCY7KbTOW80nO6C80D4HNJMY1_fOi8VJDsJH33amBVxztA6RtaXXjDDQBgOS7L7RfNn7eZi2hcwJmErnIMzFzhoRhSFltdVO5VkH2sbwWc5mxyqLzORtOfF4YDRPNiy/s1600/g2_vista.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQedJuZF22SqR3DvCY7KbTOW80nO6C80D4HNJMY1_fOi8VJDsJH33amBVxztA6RtaXXjDDQBgOS7L7RfNn7eZi2hcwJmErnIMzFzhoRhSFltdVO5VkH2sbwWc5mxyqLzORtOfF4YDRPNiy/s400/g2_vista.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548430380827000370" border="0" /></a>A hazy day in Florence<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F1nFNUyOW1olQMPKcGsuEfRPHi2P_gjWy7caUIL1geMS9W7KfvMjNK7OO8ojUYZ3Fb8xDLamWHAfGadqBaU7PoSm1c2dlskch1xRnRzoo1XEju_tmCURMO_RYoi3LDzsYBlOWZ5WFlI1/s1600/g3_gatovigilancia.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F1nFNUyOW1olQMPKcGsuEfRPHi2P_gjWy7caUIL1geMS9W7KfvMjNK7OO8ojUYZ3Fb8xDLamWHAfGadqBaU7PoSm1c2dlskch1xRnRzoo1XEju_tmCURMO_RYoi3LDzsYBlOWZ5WFlI1/s400/g3_gatovigilancia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548430372929435362" border="0" /></a>The cat guarding the staircase to Piazza Michaelangelo<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR7HjsGa2uRRFFwKmC2sWq5f6VhgoJVQdDvR1dZ6fT_XO0MsguMsbfKutl-2HRcT1X1JDJ3t9vMDLPNd1aCZezmPpSO3dZfGCSS3QFSfk6Wr0dJlMSBLZQkuX0aMufbGh8zJK7L6WbqlfI/s1600/g4_nubes.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR7HjsGa2uRRFFwKmC2sWq5f6VhgoJVQdDvR1dZ6fT_XO0MsguMsbfKutl-2HRcT1X1JDJ3t9vMDLPNd1aCZezmPpSO3dZfGCSS3QFSfk6Wr0dJlMSBLZQkuX0aMufbGh8zJK7L6WbqlfI/s400/g4_nubes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548430361838464146" border="0" /></a>Some amazing clouds rolled through during a stroll through the gardens at Palazio Pitti<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6r5DHNaMdp9mHNxvR1Z-MuCAVUc539A5YMnzVhKas_B7Pi14bw4YVsmHkImhpOF8VLBSeUNZPY_aRmyuvetGid2D_EbltLpQXjiMyVFo6oLqiUFxTixaFGeqiWZvpg7e2bffmeYLsqqOs/s1600/h1_stpeters.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6r5DHNaMdp9mHNxvR1Z-MuCAVUc539A5YMnzVhKas_B7Pi14bw4YVsmHkImhpOF8VLBSeUNZPY_aRmyuvetGid2D_EbltLpQXjiMyVFo6oLqiUFxTixaFGeqiWZvpg7e2bffmeYLsqqOs/s400/h1_stpeters.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548430352125201890" border="0" /></a>St. Peter's Basilica in Rome<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicd6InRoqFWvgz8x48KVMOqrHOV2NcG_5jZjDpDoYziSUTGaRn4IYCLSWhD3U11IPD-_r6ClKTmsnyVALTHBSgGMowQpmk1btHAkMvu3yFGadna4-8y7LGfWNbl5Zx1dTKA9pePBloHKnw/s1600/h2_viejos.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicd6InRoqFWvgz8x48KVMOqrHOV2NcG_5jZjDpDoYziSUTGaRn4IYCLSWhD3U11IPD-_r6ClKTmsnyVALTHBSgGMowQpmk1btHAkMvu3yFGadna4-8y7LGfWNbl5Zx1dTKA9pePBloHKnw/s400/h2_viejos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548428462271623586" border="0" /></a>Some old friends in Pincio Park.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Znfl2b0atO1Kt2A79Ygi-8sYLwzfarrOvM7VwhJlaBbrS8hyphenhyphenYvl23riyvlDXYmf5CgugrQKhohTALM0RaURTQTPTaq7vE0av7_hviRDf67oixWhbgBROAOanIjBjzQqnkV-Fn_3p7plv/s1600/h3_colisseum.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Znfl2b0atO1Kt2A79Ygi-8sYLwzfarrOvM7VwhJlaBbrS8hyphenhyphenYvl23riyvlDXYmf5CgugrQKhohTALM0RaURTQTPTaq7vE0av7_hviRDf67oixWhbgBROAOanIjBjzQqnkV-Fn_3p7plv/s400/h3_colisseum.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548428460559953746" border="0" /></a>The Coliseum<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznifgYVNZzjjJvaLzjxkIrrFRCE6HPgv4ANwhyphenhyphen-aSbHbPdUz-8Y270n4EvySE6rUG49z2cdXlFrWwlctn1_NSNXQYPtl4kjVzEpcIlZZN7Lk4Ud2_v5Svj5jummwp5c46Lml0EuA8SdCB/s1600/h4_forum1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznifgYVNZzjjJvaLzjxkIrrFRCE6HPgv4ANwhyphenhyphen-aSbHbPdUz-8Y270n4EvySE6rUG49z2cdXlFrWwlctn1_NSNXQYPtl4kjVzEpcIlZZN7Lk4Ud2_v5Svj5jummwp5c46Lml0EuA8SdCB/s400/h4_forum1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548428451866302946" border="0" /></a>The Roman Forum with Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II in the background<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeO11QRci36enKDt6ZN2UyrtjBPu63PYyiYL96svd9N545fz_1z6ni4JX5AD1DfGRCYQS695WAwR-4ibVknTrbJps07cvkuQCRa0VoETOsrlybR9_hlsp8dn1NixBGcE_rWxc0Hu8i7URM/s1600/h5_forum2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 343px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeO11QRci36enKDt6ZN2UyrtjBPu63PYyiYL96svd9N545fz_1z6ni4JX5AD1DfGRCYQS695WAwR-4ibVknTrbJps07cvkuQCRa0VoETOsrlybR9_hlsp8dn1NixBGcE_rWxc0Hu8i7URM/s400/h5_forum2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548428440990550978" border="0" /></a>A large-scale take on the Roman Forum<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVnNsAHaXvh4F44BFRVprixwoocwG8qHzEP2H0Jm9EpI30av5mxvw-oEmZ772rUw1S2Rcs8BoQAmTuYLsWZgyXwo_Vk40Ik6ZNh6shrWkcjT957XlYFTmXVBLmqne7JRgIJRatv1FWyh9/s1600/h6suitcase_man.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 157px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVnNsAHaXvh4F44BFRVprixwoocwG8qHzEP2H0Jm9EpI30av5mxvw-oEmZ772rUw1S2Rcs8BoQAmTuYLsWZgyXwo_Vk40Ik6ZNh6shrWkcjT957XlYFTmXVBLmqne7JRgIJRatv1FWyh9/s400/h6suitcase_man.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548428433965091138" border="0" /></a>All those travels sure made us tired. This guy, too, apparently. Sweet dreams, everyone!<br /></span></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-15257129632875417192010-11-14T14:17:00.021-03:002010-11-15T21:17:05.343-03:00Europe Trip, Part 1: What We DidAt the end of September, Belu and I flew to Europe for three weeks of racing around. We hit seven cities with side trips to a couple others. Here are the photos of the places we saw. Click on any of them to see in larger format.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0hpLJVU-f1PrIcqfUTIf96MR1aZ7gvmpmXsmPuMRaPAillRlGFNXnIc9oYUhPFs-dDRLcr3Pqjuv2JuSLPu-Mt5Xu_NW7dE_nR_D2ayvt8Iw9WOMxmBJsWzSZnOKxXpzpSUrofrGMxfo/s1600/aMadrid1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0hpLJVU-f1PrIcqfUTIf96MR1aZ7gvmpmXsmPuMRaPAillRlGFNXnIc9oYUhPFs-dDRLcr3Pqjuv2JuSLPu-Mt5Xu_NW7dE_nR_D2ayvt8Iw9WOMxmBJsWzSZnOKxXpzpSUrofrGMxfo/s320/aMadrid1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494716160791602" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Belu in front of the Templo de Debob in Madrid<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VY9XQ7i81bMzbyMt8jUIjsAOnpNAETOtnZTpijBCNiF-f9zatxrF6YZTGjzAZee4ZmHbJu1ltPjLL_G7CuIfz2IVQ1yRa_7imreRj5w2xkLLgcCoQUDNyVUm3-gBihCEO9Yd9M0clgOS/s1600/aMadrid2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VY9XQ7i81bMzbyMt8jUIjsAOnpNAETOtnZTpijBCNiF-f9zatxrF6YZTGjzAZee4ZmHbJu1ltPjLL_G7CuIfz2IVQ1yRa_7imreRj5w2xkLLgcCoQUDNyVUm3-gBihCEO9Yd9M0clgOS/s320/aMadrid2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494713718507826" border="0" /></a>Fuente de Cibeles in Madrid<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCN7hIHGdqOHdlv1jdUSCbmNIxHn1e9hvE99n58ni6z6QPJhXTO7-NpN6jkyaiT8OT_7F0AF1IzD7bzcixMkq1qTMEfsxNRw7T4K8ZdoyKTet2eysCwsLERhMzRYqQDX9STjz44Z9igiA/s1600/aMadrid3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCN7hIHGdqOHdlv1jdUSCbmNIxHn1e9hvE99n58ni6z6QPJhXTO7-NpN6jkyaiT8OT_7F0AF1IzD7bzcixMkq1qTMEfsxNRw7T4K8ZdoyKTet2eysCwsLERhMzRYqQDX9STjz44Z9igiA/s320/aMadrid3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494710462693938" border="0" /></a>Parque del Buen Retiro in Madrid<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5PcMbKVrUbXpwU2V_UGyJLSB5NCELBjJgeLGEWuLQsRizooAK9wqsTHY0mDj9_yhajRt9XxSzYwtq4o-mu1mHsLyQ6lPPv7Tq4fr6dwKZ56GyscoAeA3T4eO3mIEGhAeVlXi-1XT7s1f/s1600/aMadrid4.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5PcMbKVrUbXpwU2V_UGyJLSB5NCELBjJgeLGEWuLQsRizooAK9wqsTHY0mDj9_yhajRt9XxSzYwtq4o-mu1mHsLyQ6lPPv7Tq4fr6dwKZ56GyscoAeA3T4eO3mIEGhAeVlXi-1XT7s1f/s320/aMadrid4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494707594564274" border="0" /></a>Belu in the park. Madrid had only so much to offer. It's a big city and the country's capital, but two days is probably plenty, especially compared to what you have in the rest of Spain. So we took some side trips.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxT-wLGTOTuQzyPG1w2zqlK2H7LFAWcczM3km_yZT9qFfdeTkqmj22bGJx1gwHnILU7Mnn3LBxXmzl3qMw6BK9wz9ak-g6Xsq6aidnjYFasF2Zvcjxt7Ag7a5mPnk_Oqf_onqO2pp_nev6/s1600/bToledo1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxT-wLGTOTuQzyPG1w2zqlK2H7LFAWcczM3km_yZT9qFfdeTkqmj22bGJx1gwHnILU7Mnn3LBxXmzl3qMw6BK9wz9ak-g6Xsq6aidnjYFasF2Zvcjxt7Ag7a5mPnk_Oqf_onqO2pp_nev6/s320/bToledo1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494704282141378" border="0" /></a>We spent a day in the old city of Toledo. It's like walking into a time machine. Here's Belu risking her life on one of the tiny streets. I say risking her life because if a car would have come, there would be no place to run for cover. The other city we visited was Segovia which we'll see in part 2...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9l9ChKUrn1o0XT0b0dud05Tg4XlQ8900j_jWVRrdpnFi1owPjP4Hhtm4Z5SpA_s1xxhLQVKUzNMtKNe5VLMYsG_FNZ2aL3UakiEmBKtPASeuu3p_VFuuJWSkZByJxNm1ESPnIHkCexR-8/s1600/cBarce1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9l9ChKUrn1o0XT0b0dud05Tg4XlQ8900j_jWVRrdpnFi1owPjP4Hhtm4Z5SpA_s1xxhLQVKUzNMtKNe5VLMYsG_FNZ2aL3UakiEmBKtPASeuu3p_VFuuJWSkZByJxNm1ESPnIHkCexR-8/s320/cBarce1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494552751028610" border="0" /></a>Belu up in La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0H2oQcbSIagrkX2H6VWCqmz50qOweGjhWqJHY6XwIoc03G_KGPXHvMcETIJxFZzEvOih5sXnkrIWIAbMUnzwNDljDSss_0Yr088LemLgjp-IHwjcsK0Yx2xgLbyRC1Z6LJ7_mfqF4LKME/s1600/cBarce2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0H2oQcbSIagrkX2H6VWCqmz50qOweGjhWqJHY6XwIoc03G_KGPXHvMcETIJxFZzEvOih5sXnkrIWIAbMUnzwNDljDSss_0Yr088LemLgjp-IHwjcsK0Yx2xgLbyRC1Z6LJ7_mfqF4LKME/s320/cBarce2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494544688741090" border="0" /></a>Me doing same. The Sagrada Familia will be done in 2030. We hope to come back then to see the finished product!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVwKlxXmmlPecKmznFy19RmHishlKDpveHtxhGL8a5X9Oa_b1FhXr2lZ9tnTOx94aFOBFFJrJyoQ-Uf8yNds6BmxMsS9GmfYXxXAMOwazji2VH-Eb0FuZf9LU-KPAP5sDYoD6_XRFISKdW/s1600/cBarce3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVwKlxXmmlPecKmznFy19RmHishlKDpveHtxhGL8a5X9Oa_b1FhXr2lZ9tnTOx94aFOBFFJrJyoQ-Uf8yNds6BmxMsS9GmfYXxXAMOwazji2VH-Eb0FuZf9LU-KPAP5sDYoD6_XRFISKdW/s320/cBarce3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494532457897106" border="0" /></a>Belu in Park Güell<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUvWREqpFr4FAUNvdvx9DOIY-AU-VUmMDLLs9hOA_KpwnJMrEf9DKf1y14CnIFStSxVX1IgpQsMIjfl88Cevwh8taj4oMLaOTp8iMxRfMJKIjjRyRmHIriVHmlqJ6lR0dOgwRy3AYOuIP/s1600/cBarce4.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUvWREqpFr4FAUNvdvx9DOIY-AU-VUmMDLLs9hOA_KpwnJMrEf9DKf1y14CnIFStSxVX1IgpQsMIjfl88Cevwh8taj4oMLaOTp8iMxRfMJKIjjRyRmHIriVHmlqJ6lR0dOgwRy3AYOuIP/s320/cBarce4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494517836681074" border="0" /></a>I took us on a ridiculous hike all around Park Güell. Unfortunately, it got more ridiculous when we found ourselves outside the park and nowhere near the entrance. Eventually, we finally found a way back in. Here we are resting for just a bit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9XzpKZBBZKBqtNKQDKtLcuJ8W2U3ND2AriOTqMqwXMmFPZb44skT7giuJZWT9SqKJP1tsf3Q4ACMYa1BSPv8nu9nlAhimC_kWgHQMAdWqTwFfIYAclyx-hpDeuWUeehHkzKA0dk6J0sKG/s1600/cBarce5.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9XzpKZBBZKBqtNKQDKtLcuJ8W2U3ND2AriOTqMqwXMmFPZb44skT7giuJZWT9SqKJP1tsf3Q4ACMYa1BSPv8nu9nlAhimC_kWgHQMAdWqTwFfIYAclyx-hpDeuWUeehHkzKA0dk6J0sKG/s320/cBarce5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494515641646098" border="0" /></a>Belu with the famous salamander guy statue thingy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoJvMuh53i0GbIt0YgkwMAdNiW7Yv_jegwZmu_LqQ52A5ROxa9r9G-9p8eiNnCItJTD9jZTm0hHNuXCUEs9g3ToceqVrv3NNdc6JbonbDB9Z3PwN6gbCVphYfiPHH1crkxq6suK19_pWK/s1600/cBarce6.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoJvMuh53i0GbIt0YgkwMAdNiW7Yv_jegwZmu_LqQ52A5ROxa9r9G-9p8eiNnCItJTD9jZTm0hHNuXCUEs9g3ToceqVrv3NNdc6JbonbDB9Z3PwN6gbCVphYfiPHH1crkxq6suK19_pWK/s320/cBarce6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494235465956770" border="0" /></a>We took a topless tour bus, which I figured wouldn't be a great idea. But Barcelona is the perfect city for this kind of thing. It's not so big, and there isn't too much traffic. Plus, you get cranky old ladies to give you dirty looks from across the aisle.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTez5Wi4tlgT-HHmLvh7a5Rz3wWNor6Oufh6NufKVgmekZYU7r4z2u7Qc9j9ne3nGmjQzJD1l1QJww5EH87ZFjamxNIKpmZDgiiEbpLtLKcntTgtQ_FcpRh0QlhvhLObyKzspB2vziyclE/s1600/cBarce7.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTez5Wi4tlgT-HHmLvh7a5Rz3wWNor6Oufh6NufKVgmekZYU7r4z2u7Qc9j9ne3nGmjQzJD1l1QJww5EH87ZFjamxNIKpmZDgiiEbpLtLKcntTgtQ_FcpRh0QlhvhLObyKzspB2vziyclE/s320/cBarce7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494230056139794" border="0" /></a>On a hill overlooking Plaza España<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49u4fMM8TsbkkbKYoPxuanEUJu7sT_4ycyGuaXTvYVWAeYS7sgwARdy16OEmjRc72XDxYzHM4hKXO-goIcM8WsSvZyYEvWy7pMEQc9sYafnxomPToVreFD3O8tW0SRChfOLR4TXug7O-g/s1600/cBarce8.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49u4fMM8TsbkkbKYoPxuanEUJu7sT_4ycyGuaXTvYVWAeYS7sgwARdy16OEmjRc72XDxYzHM4hKXO-goIcM8WsSvZyYEvWy7pMEQc9sYafnxomPToVreFD3O8tW0SRChfOLR4TXug7O-g/s320/cBarce8.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494228606742370" border="0" /></a>I got a kick out of the outdoor escalator.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTnELCsTAAcl3oPfY6Zc-5HwTNezi_cLCRsmHUYZZnNlekKBgz5FUwrIU4c49YGiKgxj-7hvc4zjeqDw1fdKPx88CrmFo4kV7s0amgaKlGY5Z0koiyVBBtSOp65NcxYQ9tSFq3ghQF4I7/s1600/cBarce9.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTnELCsTAAcl3oPfY6Zc-5HwTNezi_cLCRsmHUYZZnNlekKBgz5FUwrIU4c49YGiKgxj-7hvc4zjeqDw1fdKPx88CrmFo4kV7s0amgaKlGY5Z0koiyVBBtSOp65NcxYQ9tSFq3ghQF4I7/s320/cBarce9.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494222750439394" border="0" /></a>Careful not to fall on your head.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaSFYIivI8wd22X2G99JH3dcOylJVwenhgdIgofutJ3sp6ns9nHK9SncaY4JID60x104cmrq2wcqamhpxvjwlC7g8XRjJC0cqIQGVMF6dQVxL_UqE4bRZx5QL5JzGsdlUGrefPirggKzO/s1600/cbarce10.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaSFYIivI8wd22X2G99JH3dcOylJVwenhgdIgofutJ3sp6ns9nHK9SncaY4JID60x104cmrq2wcqamhpxvjwlC7g8XRjJC0cqIQGVMF6dQVxL_UqE4bRZx5QL5JzGsdlUGrefPirggKzO/s320/cbarce10.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494219213396626" border="0" /></a>I said careful!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMUsuYVbBQOdc7A1pIYl15AZ0zHuwz6LaKdQwkmiICzCB64ul9TLmkXbvmzQfcjr1Y9A74NGLnVZNGjwju6_Q4DcjKutFLRUYQEVJMzU8XybIgEcR3H3ypTnXLGQSUjMwzy_FlLPA2bjCT/s1600/cbarce11.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMUsuYVbBQOdc7A1pIYl15AZ0zHuwz6LaKdQwkmiICzCB64ul9TLmkXbvmzQfcjr1Y9A74NGLnVZNGjwju6_Q4DcjKutFLRUYQEVJMzU8XybIgEcR3H3ypTnXLGQSUjMwzy_FlLPA2bjCT/s320/cbarce11.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494029951465874" border="0" /></a>That's more like it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLVKIIKz0YlK3JBGaYyXrH6V8OJ_3AxsATgnnSNsQEexwcuYipRLX8Bid4k4GpUdVBzFqs0yhM4HTF8cPUgDkCKD48Ul_ShW5WPqYjWIgto_yAuFVCsIKGGUWEKSSC_pIaQeNJy3AWOve/s1600/cbarce12.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLVKIIKz0YlK3JBGaYyXrH6V8OJ_3AxsATgnnSNsQEexwcuYipRLX8Bid4k4GpUdVBzFqs0yhM4HTF8cPUgDkCKD48Ul_ShW5WPqYjWIgto_yAuFVCsIKGGUWEKSSC_pIaQeNJy3AWOve/s320/cbarce12.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494023574535394" border="0" /></a>The ol' self-photo from Montjuic.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKBbX-SmiRFuGwjoQZlp_AFUwyXo9QG76BaZDNBCCToU2BibYQFAC5FMtuzmrLJ0bCUs-eNRAn44XVgHdue-0keByR7fFphS1AMBQGvoyFvUa3HikNgFDxkY5MS9s_ktZX8H65Pw2dRpRb/s1600/cbarce13.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKBbX-SmiRFuGwjoQZlp_AFUwyXo9QG76BaZDNBCCToU2BibYQFAC5FMtuzmrLJ0bCUs-eNRAn44XVgHdue-0keByR7fFphS1AMBQGvoyFvUa3HikNgFDxkY5MS9s_ktZX8H65Pw2dRpRb/s320/cbarce13.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494018060073426" border="0" /></a>Belu at that other Arco de Triunfo (in Barcelona)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAUutAIPAV9fdib8_4PnzIREbPeDUGd3BR4lqJAan9b8fhqXlDAQJvwgy0vbEx__IcKLBMPLN0_pPhujk5x6nrLkKBSDRlQ9LRh-IXE9_jR4Ew31CS-yFFsxCngMFnVHe9jhjqIGkAKcxs/s1600/dparis1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAUutAIPAV9fdib8_4PnzIREbPeDUGd3BR4lqJAan9b8fhqXlDAQJvwgy0vbEx__IcKLBMPLN0_pPhujk5x6nrLkKBSDRlQ9LRh-IXE9_jR4Ew31CS-yFFsxCngMFnVHe9jhjqIGkAKcxs/s320/dparis1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494014593521810" border="0" /></a>Eiffel Tower<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNOTErzRYiadalz8rNYX3hqZOLBuNE2JyCIHerKZJuXDaq8HYOiWlCEZB8Dnqc0IVcIhLbn3AW4ONYtpJSsOFusgPPYIKhWZVkuOiiPlO_QfhUVZrye6dwpZztxuwsjO49kGE9rP9UVDG/s1600/dparis2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNOTErzRYiadalz8rNYX3hqZOLBuNE2JyCIHerKZJuXDaq8HYOiWlCEZB8Dnqc0IVcIhLbn3AW4ONYtpJSsOFusgPPYIKhWZVkuOiiPlO_QfhUVZrye6dwpZztxuwsjO49kGE9rP9UVDG/s320/dparis2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539494007084750226" border="0" /></a>La Torre Eiffel<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqbfAEIANeh9RiizY5g_CzGrn814aQlmTpdipRSvCwlCSHAoSD4co78mcPJgvMO4unAQ6ZB9nQeZcyjM9i8nW-h2GjlIEO8dWzc0c_N-WAhQtzaZW082bdh-epNHNYRLar1TXeg0h2k7L/s1600/dparis3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqbfAEIANeh9RiizY5g_CzGrn814aQlmTpdipRSvCwlCSHAoSD4co78mcPJgvMO4unAQ6ZB9nQeZcyjM9i8nW-h2GjlIEO8dWzc0c_N-WAhQtzaZW082bdh-epNHNYRLar1TXeg0h2k7L/s320/dparis3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493746647455426" border="0" /></a>Atop said tower<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8zV5rKmDOyPF_pzXUg2ASg07ZWeLeMHRgCN_mlOhqPy3Wu2-QU7dIEtF9O738sX8PDp-RIZrnb1N-deC-JKIjBFMZsmsfBpziw-aUbKgAklpx60Wz7vo4D6uyLyc5AywgqSV522YS9_Gi/s1600/dparis4.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8zV5rKmDOyPF_pzXUg2ASg07ZWeLeMHRgCN_mlOhqPy3Wu2-QU7dIEtF9O738sX8PDp-RIZrnb1N-deC-JKIjBFMZsmsfBpziw-aUbKgAklpx60Wz7vo4D6uyLyc5AywgqSV522YS9_Gi/s320/dparis4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493743237813730" border="0" /></a>Notre Dame<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoKuEJEU4tDmLF6JHcRJgk5wnTK1zptQ7JEuv0emRkCfIKkRUepn7eIeCMyOuPa-Z6gxr2JZmZkX1d1KAbkTTS9kPDqbCcIUnqwDhzFaxTbFAdXu4fBtlww15MgJnA6VN6NYeEnfJ5vkn/s1600/dparis5.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoKuEJEU4tDmLF6JHcRJgk5wnTK1zptQ7JEuv0emRkCfIKkRUepn7eIeCMyOuPa-Z6gxr2JZmZkX1d1KAbkTTS9kPDqbCcIUnqwDhzFaxTbFAdXu4fBtlww15MgJnA6VN6NYeEnfJ5vkn/s320/dparis5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493739196512402" border="0" /></a>Belu gettin' saucy with it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuUGFFyVA3NjMKqCn_I9VGt3-a1aPwoZysBOwcGv138EMcM-4zWq5QIZHfvRMIuqywxnnfcLcSrDatA9nPhYdb2y8WNJN3a5g2Vb4U919wN35iSkKreAMGmR3Dgv3a5M1o2ANtXYinnbEi/s1600/dparis6.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuUGFFyVA3NjMKqCn_I9VGt3-a1aPwoZysBOwcGv138EMcM-4zWq5QIZHfvRMIuqywxnnfcLcSrDatA9nPhYdb2y8WNJN3a5g2Vb4U919wN35iSkKreAMGmR3Dgv3a5M1o2ANtXYinnbEi/s320/dparis6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493739608861986" border="0" /></a>We hiked up to the Sacre Coeur church which reveals a fantastic view of the city (more on that in Part 2).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfuVzlcu50xAZ65sJN51J03_h9Bu-NPBw2LV53_c5fLEvYP5_6A69KoXnxghgAj6ROJ_8oHesizgOYgMd4mjM-iKBEPF6aF6U9nHZGA0zESYL7arz66fOp-hXrGL7QL53Ok2ebpyx91mo/s1600/dparis7.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfuVzlcu50xAZ65sJN51J03_h9Bu-NPBw2LV53_c5fLEvYP5_6A69KoXnxghgAj6ROJ_8oHesizgOYgMd4mjM-iKBEPF6aF6U9nHZGA0zESYL7arz66fOp-hXrGL7QL53Ok2ebpyx91mo/s320/dparis7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493733371166658" border="0" /></a>Outside the Louvre. Because we didn't check things well, we had some bad luck with the museums in Paris. Like some other places in Paris, we came to the Louvre on the day it was closed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSphEjbv48lU0aWCttwCATtWbn4qBNJpKfoj5z0tWQZ3MWjI5QH3fUQttZJTSERdeXxA_WLpPDJHujcodJTWfwp8xNsYU4Zx5G_wV3_enhjuIdvUtgWLepIhTDLP9NzwHdth_yCwmlOKyD/s1600/gatooo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSphEjbv48lU0aWCttwCATtWbn4qBNJpKfoj5z0tWQZ3MWjI5QH3fUQttZJTSERdeXxA_WLpPDJHujcodJTWfwp8xNsYU4Zx5G_wV3_enhjuIdvUtgWLepIhTDLP9NzwHdth_yCwmlOKyD/s320/gatooo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493535613379698" border="0" /></a>On a mountaintop in Geneva, Switzerland, Belu makes another feline friend. This was one of about a dozen we met along the trip, but easily the most cariñoso.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYg5jOEnCuay6JKBhjVdBpWYe6fu4kHldrdSqJHP1NSNkq4blkRtdwsOzOkZs1af_1WDuliLCNPTmQruORRi1O-SeK95BKGRPOeSVfuh2nqDr0SrVUkvPNWqiuKIS9V1-zlZi2VQxBG-S3/s1600/gatooo2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYg5jOEnCuay6JKBhjVdBpWYe6fu4kHldrdSqJHP1NSNkq4blkRtdwsOzOkZs1af_1WDuliLCNPTmQruORRi1O-SeK95BKGRPOeSVfuh2nqDr0SrVUkvPNWqiuKIS9V1-zlZi2VQxBG-S3/s320/gatooo2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493527454690242" border="0" /></a>There's not a ton of tourist stuff to do in Geneva, and we didn't have the best weather, either. But we took a ride on a little train, and this guy tagged along for a bit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WzbZt9Ac0F0ih_hh0hSjWqe6IOLpyi1fG40wTZYOHhT7RdmzrjNQGeEIefkvx1t6HPS3yvm9wVDJlfsk2Ywd9_PCvgBa-XsB_KlqGmeyMV9myphCxWAN1OGcgvgqCp_5QIaR6HXoeYm_/s1600/gatooo3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WzbZt9Ac0F0ih_hh0hSjWqe6IOLpyi1fG40wTZYOHhT7RdmzrjNQGeEIefkvx1t6HPS3yvm9wVDJlfsk2Ywd9_PCvgBa-XsB_KlqGmeyMV9myphCxWAN1OGcgvgqCp_5QIaR6HXoeYm_/s320/gatooo3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493522105773090" border="0" /></a>Leaving Geneva for Venice was an utter mess. We were supposed to have first class seats on a train that would get us there in one shot. Instead, we were shuttled in and out of four trains. On one of the longest trips, we had to stand, wedged in with suitcases against the bathroom door. People kept coming to use the bathroom and we had to tell them it was impossible to get the door open. You can imagine how crazy-haired Italian ladies reacted to this information. Fortunately, the others crammed in this tiny space with us happened to be an extremely easygoing and friendly Indian family on vacation. If we had been with a bunch of Italian or French tourists, surely the "mala onda" would have only exacerbated the disaster. But these people made the time pass quickly and kept our spirits high.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCW3BBw_PFyFtKkW7dEDscqwVpn2I_NLOQoe3SQFxr8KaJlyphVEyyS_Wkl-bniRXKRIFadEUkdEBoyCGef7Dgi93P9B0gkvUI_qYE4vKfPyJJhSDD0BFeilJ9GBi6kK_jh9kJnDps2fBW/s1600/hvenice1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCW3BBw_PFyFtKkW7dEDscqwVpn2I_NLOQoe3SQFxr8KaJlyphVEyyS_Wkl-bniRXKRIFadEUkdEBoyCGef7Dgi93P9B0gkvUI_qYE4vKfPyJJhSDD0BFeilJ9GBi6kK_jh9kJnDps2fBW/s320/hvenice1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493514581629970" border="0" /></a>On the Ponte di Rialto in Venice<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyB9H-OSbPCrMSiHeNYX3nR_UE6Yn4WCwPlUI96BgcT7i_2drPK2o9qz0e8jZR7hoh2eCHrvB4a5BwJjD5nmFuymy3pq96sRjuvTiGLdUxmMmZ4UH2QSzDmhV3auuEG4QG6temS7-NgYfw/s1600/hvenice2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyB9H-OSbPCrMSiHeNYX3nR_UE6Yn4WCwPlUI96BgcT7i_2drPK2o9qz0e8jZR7hoh2eCHrvB4a5BwJjD5nmFuymy3pq96sRjuvTiGLdUxmMmZ4UH2QSzDmhV3auuEG4QG6temS7-NgYfw/s320/hvenice2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493511723887586" border="0" /></a>Belu on the same bridge. Venice was kind of crazy. We only spent one day there, and I think that was surely enough. It's totally overrun with tourists, with a new horde delivered by cruise ships daily. Everyone here is continually lost on the ancient streets, but at least we got our first tastes of authentic pizza and gelato. Valio la pena.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyftLUPg576GHd2LimKmOPQiII0jmxjkEXlllNbBjiLAka_5Qc3QD2t-AcU08MEUoRIRvX7mvHp80_AlL56ceK79mgfEdKdmz52rYu3B4Fkm2T41aeYXZ7QWbCYUzPRi1AwrLIGDymxItg/s1600/hvenice3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyftLUPg576GHd2LimKmOPQiII0jmxjkEXlllNbBjiLAka_5Qc3QD2t-AcU08MEUoRIRvX7mvHp80_AlL56ceK79mgfEdKdmz52rYu3B4Fkm2T41aeYXZ7QWbCYUzPRi1AwrLIGDymxItg/s320/hvenice3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493265952779010" border="0" /></a>Took this photo at night without flash and a long exposure. This is alongside the Piazza San Marco in Venice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGXOd3yLs07E9Nx2U4Usg2AFJB1qdjGNyXjao3VcGRRwdXNYc8RQtJNe4mcYwcAG75rorqs1lZzdvUFDBO5Z9AqrM3r9i0ytyT7JAxoUSVHn6qYK3vimEwNXm_dneV4RmaBaQMcUe47DW/s1600/hvenice4.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGXOd3yLs07E9Nx2U4Usg2AFJB1qdjGNyXjao3VcGRRwdXNYc8RQtJNe4mcYwcAG75rorqs1lZzdvUFDBO5Z9AqrM3r9i0ytyT7JAxoUSVHn6qYK3vimEwNXm_dneV4RmaBaQMcUe47DW/s320/hvenice4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493259600594210" border="0" /></a>Our gondoleer ducks his head as we cruise under the lowest bridge in town.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rjnR8hpQhdl6sOgyvyfiElNUQUxmiiTr5-ipwrssd-hDxAHAjdfoEzR0zQUGHB3hH_0vfyr-9KDUmfkeqCUCNax5C4HXFJSkFbGkG-ApdSPWDn6ty8QHC2hQre2AXqKQzl5ISU1W7U2d/s1600/hvenice5.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rjnR8hpQhdl6sOgyvyfiElNUQUxmiiTr5-ipwrssd-hDxAHAjdfoEzR0zQUGHB3hH_0vfyr-9KDUmfkeqCUCNax5C4HXFJSkFbGkG-ApdSPWDn6ty8QHC2hQre2AXqKQzl5ISU1W7U2d/s320/hvenice5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493258047146386" border="0" /></a>Speaking of pizza, this one was far from the best we had, yet still delicious. Plus, you have to appreciate the pizza eaten while walking around Venice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVaBELy7UJE_ZCJs4slzKi3dygU88HKoBN5rndiU1K8EjBxUkUpdBEQinxVm9IN_XMla-tlWw_xAPuHkxQVjr1g6aEj3NQ1ieYxr6fzwTPhyphenhyphenAWPrjSnt-oqZmm5W5QEx0T0xgwm2OvFOW/s1600/iflorcene1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVaBELy7UJE_ZCJs4slzKi3dygU88HKoBN5rndiU1K8EjBxUkUpdBEQinxVm9IN_XMla-tlWw_xAPuHkxQVjr1g6aEj3NQ1ieYxr6fzwTPhyphenhyphenAWPrjSnt-oqZmm5W5QEx0T0xgwm2OvFOW/s320/iflorcene1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493253423642194" border="0" /></a>At the Piazza di Santa Croce in Florence<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9RMu6otvVXVZrC-9dU9witfkR8xKgkLt8xBRPg7NGYaaWpCFIiHD6_w0jOX1q1mvoghqxcY4Ze3V_YZJsrtthcgxnDFo2M0m5LtBlC6fv5HIlV6dyo-OTUBp_d_Qn_jX48wP2f-9cbS_/s1600/iflorence2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9RMu6otvVXVZrC-9dU9witfkR8xKgkLt8xBRPg7NGYaaWpCFIiHD6_w0jOX1q1mvoghqxcY4Ze3V_YZJsrtthcgxnDFo2M0m5LtBlC6fv5HIlV6dyo-OTUBp_d_Qn_jX48wP2f-9cbS_/s320/iflorence2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539493252554656930" border="0" /></a>Palazzo Lenzi in front of Chiesa di Ognissanti in Florence. It really shocked us how loud Florence was for being such a small city. Everywhere we went there was construction, motorcycles, and general hollering. On the last day, we just wanted to sit in a park and relax. We found a somewhat quiet spot, plopped down on a park bench, and decided it would do. 20 seconds later, two guys showed up with a lawn mower. It was like something out of a sitcom.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWO3QYtY-d3cVgsh3jCYqFQMHHYi4U0KvbdAJqYZqfaMlHx1Rc0d8K0VTXzqCDKSdMl3kWzVfiyfKpgO65Suzb6hTfKP0XRcvnETYXroLk8Jmkp1dWYbLWm2o2dtpr1fqB8aYer8qVgSzi/s1600/iflorence3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWO3QYtY-d3cVgsh3jCYqFQMHHYi4U0KvbdAJqYZqfaMlHx1Rc0d8K0VTXzqCDKSdMl3kWzVfiyfKpgO65Suzb6hTfKP0XRcvnETYXroLk8Jmkp1dWYbLWm2o2dtpr1fqB8aYer8qVgSzi/s320/iflorence3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492987338183106" border="0" /></a>Belu at the Mirador in Piazza Michealangelo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5G8uFyGikJFf9_2xda0u-iUwNZc0XU-8J1uStLadVUWzDUl8dSFwxw88tV9eYjz1hrNNhSpEwRoqR_LdEqNmVPPAv3M-ObkkuJhTqbhOkM2ArvVTnWIFo40W3_u8lDbESq4Hochr1y9N/s1600/iflorence4.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5G8uFyGikJFf9_2xda0u-iUwNZc0XU-8J1uStLadVUWzDUl8dSFwxw88tV9eYjz1hrNNhSpEwRoqR_LdEqNmVPPAv3M-ObkkuJhTqbhOkM2ArvVTnWIFo40W3_u8lDbESq4Hochr1y9N/s320/iflorence4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492988022168082" border="0" /></a>Me doing same. Many more Florence pictures in Part 2. We took in more famous museums and churches than we can possibly recall in Florence. The entire place is like one big museum. Perhaps foolishly (for the time we chose), we had to wait in line over two hours to see Michaelangelo's David. But the wait was well worth it. It has to be the most amazing piece of artwork I've laid eyes on. Unfortunately, no picture here because taking photos was banned.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0WiYrpY0YMr5D8_mrj7MYy7J4F-jpeOXkLmkj_0FPvCDEL3lrzI5Alo7H6ROe3yCyGLfKu5RGV22YRKFm0NI092j3CqO2xehLnVnIx6CsuEpHOVw9U9E5ftaEDHrB1zv37bLSlGMJeGi/s1600/jroma1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0WiYrpY0YMr5D8_mrj7MYy7J4F-jpeOXkLmkj_0FPvCDEL3lrzI5Alo7H6ROe3yCyGLfKu5RGV22YRKFm0NI092j3CqO2xehLnVnIx6CsuEpHOVw9U9E5ftaEDHrB1zv37bLSlGMJeGi/s320/jroma1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492977092360034" border="0" /></a>Belu at the most crowded place in the world - aka the Vatican Museum.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQYVJ6X38ZwQ8DFvKIURv_2fBKk9D6kbiuvEZM269v54v5RkaCbB3HCg3c2WxwNseJm5G6Pjrvbio5tDKIHM4wILTKOB8rtR0UhuXmUlLUFH-pyAycNH8XbY6FMwcR34YljCS9VKm8yxc/s1600/jroma2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQYVJ6X38ZwQ8DFvKIURv_2fBKk9D6kbiuvEZM269v54v5RkaCbB3HCg3c2WxwNseJm5G6Pjrvbio5tDKIHM4wILTKOB8rtR0UhuXmUlLUFH-pyAycNH8XbY6FMwcR34YljCS9VKm8yxc/s320/jroma2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492974268545378" border="0" /></a>In front of Fontana di Trevi<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjViG89-iQ0lHirLSTZhGjq6rG0xlkvZQM5aTNcJf2Kq53zYOwGXpSws71wyxXv_TE1zpCQC-qxD6obRAAydPOXYiM1Mg-SD5yIM8xXYrvstp4novMf5QNEWpZMgCjLSsKNOW2AY_tclLht/s1600/jroma3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjViG89-iQ0lHirLSTZhGjq6rG0xlkvZQM5aTNcJf2Kq53zYOwGXpSws71wyxXv_TE1zpCQC-qxD6obRAAydPOXYiM1Mg-SD5yIM8xXYrvstp4novMf5QNEWpZMgCjLSsKNOW2AY_tclLht/s320/jroma3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492967901469042" border="0" /></a>I'm the goofy guy up front.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPZRmLVQefUJ9IJXUQmqXoqN6KEVqBh2lk6yAitlEU29cahp1gP37AljRcKJ9Xh6sy48eheICFoYTQY7WWCM3XPwu9b1tOQLuKHRo5bbmFpB6k5PTZRNbxzB83a856FIIj9Pco4YNvMtb/s1600/jroma4.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPZRmLVQefUJ9IJXUQmqXoqN6KEVqBh2lk6yAitlEU29cahp1gP37AljRcKJ9Xh6sy48eheICFoYTQY7WWCM3XPwu9b1tOQLuKHRo5bbmFpB6k5PTZRNbxzB83a856FIIj9Pco4YNvMtb/s320/jroma4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492648477522386" border="0" /></a>In the park overlooking the Piazza del Popolo. By the time we reached Rome, we were pretty exhausted. Our goal was just to take it easy and relax. But of course there was so much to see, we just kept on walking all over the city.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPUkSDqmZoNSja4y3anP-y3SzVee98vEueIJBE3Hv3KQk_Nhsr8aEKn872J5mQrqFaoE7zcaenXV-ZQt-VNaFzC9WUsbz2q3I_AGoRJ4aF27aBWA5QEyUiCNpQ6_BiQ9HaCIleAWKasmv/s1600/jroma5.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPUkSDqmZoNSja4y3anP-y3SzVee98vEueIJBE3Hv3KQk_Nhsr8aEKn872J5mQrqFaoE7zcaenXV-ZQt-VNaFzC9WUsbz2q3I_AGoRJ4aF27aBWA5QEyUiCNpQ6_BiQ9HaCIleAWKasmv/s320/jroma5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492640283861762" border="0" /></a>The Roman Colosseum. Belu hands down the death sentence. Or is she sparing a life? Nobody seems to be able to answer this question definitively.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPA-5fZCjhr_GFyotrRhsv-SzD8LaRMxeuuVsAiCuoXPAJIIrhtoYcqivzZVgwJ-4Kj87iAy6b7wLTguvQpjcS1rTyqZAc5JwFKpkv0jK2aFK_3YNm8Yv2JIa9A3tCy2xlB5zDRN5GrUs/s1600/jroma6.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPA-5fZCjhr_GFyotrRhsv-SzD8LaRMxeuuVsAiCuoXPAJIIrhtoYcqivzZVgwJ-4Kj87iAy6b7wLTguvQpjcS1rTyqZAc5JwFKpkv0jK2aFK_3YNm8Yv2JIa9A3tCy2xlB5zDRN5GrUs/s320/jroma6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492625974243282" border="0" /></a>It became clear to use during our time in Italy that it is clearly the spiritual fatherland of Argentina. Many of Argentina's character traits, both good and bad, were born here. People talking loudly, crazy traffic, excellent coffee, nobody forming a proper line, arguing until long after the sun goes down, beautiful women, and many more... We owe a lot to Italy here, both credit and blame.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9iUlutxFQ4r33fi5OCnnWFxUwJlC-MlCPidjnfoyophK9DLreRIcChyphenhyphenvn7SE4GD3SkFsEQ0Czxqsz16sVc46twiQNvzXTtpb_a5LrrJQce1k9gNZWGT7oqIoCNPBGahghxWZ3m6Y-DKK/s1600/jroma7.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9iUlutxFQ4r33fi5OCnnWFxUwJlC-MlCPidjnfoyophK9DLreRIcChyphenhyphenvn7SE4GD3SkFsEQ0Czxqsz16sVc46twiQNvzXTtpb_a5LrrJQce1k9gNZWGT7oqIoCNPBGahghxWZ3m6Y-DKK/s320/jroma7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492620787166258" border="0" /></a>Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigX9TD_SnWCp1IKIU5WPUEmSuosl-t63BlCEkoIKbuJEF45W8IinZylFjhmnYylfs-5icwbkRVL3c6gIQgSVV63jHpshyphenhyphen438RZvdfFfla1ZFFlWXogUCYYZeYLLKAVknXywPwoz7-aKxkQ/s1600/jroma8.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigX9TD_SnWCp1IKIU5WPUEmSuosl-t63BlCEkoIKbuJEF45W8IinZylFjhmnYylfs-5icwbkRVL3c6gIQgSVV63jHpshyphenhyphen438RZvdfFfla1ZFFlWXogUCYYZeYLLKAVknXywPwoz7-aKxkQ/s320/jroma8.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539492618661155362" border="0" /></a>One of our last moments on the trip after our last ridiculously long trek. The Coliseum on the right, the Roman Forum in the background, and Vittorio Emanuele II behind it. We saw as much as we could in those three weeks, and there remains a ton left to see. Come back soon for Part 2 where you'll see my attempts at artistic documentation of the physical world. Uhhh, yeah, fancy fotos...</span></span></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-44865103093732014882010-11-13T18:44:00.017-03:002010-11-14T14:14:05.535-03:00Catching Up: June/July/August<span style="font-style: italic;">If I don't start catching up faster, I will never actually you know, catch up. So let's see if we can make up some ground here via a triple-play.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">June</span><br />June was the month that Belu and I immediately began in earnest task of wedding-planning (something that of course still continues). But meanwhile I still found for the Buenos Aires Ultimate Frisbee playoffs. After going an entire year unscathed, Big Red's dominance had not continued throughout the regular season. Fortunately, we played well enough to end up in 3rd place and faced Discosur in the semis. But we had really played our worst in the weeks leading up to the tourney. Confidence was not high. But after a stirring call to action from Dani just moments before the game started, we began playing with a fire that we hadn't seen since the "old days." After scoring the first six points of the match, there was little Discosur could do to come back. It was the confidence boost we needed and suddenly there was <span style="font-style: italic;">esperanza</span> for the championship game on Sunday morning.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUFE7b9AQiU1VW-h9KHxpOWzuV3CElG7v-DG778asCFkuEic8YzrKsVmMp8ts6_oZvkbcWb3K-qtc4y_sT20PtNPhGBH0ZDpmtYPDgiiJsxctjQ5nDemlN42I6lE_MOCXrGIHl2kVCZQZ/s1600/aa.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUFE7b9AQiU1VW-h9KHxpOWzuV3CElG7v-DG778asCFkuEic8YzrKsVmMp8ts6_oZvkbcWb3K-qtc4y_sT20PtNPhGBH0ZDpmtYPDgiiJsxctjQ5nDemlN42I6lE_MOCXrGIHl2kVCZQZ/s400/aa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539177431945172738" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Big Red - Solidaridad, Herman@s!</span></span></div><br /><br />In the finals, we were set to play Aqua, the top seed who had just finished up a very strong regular season. We also knew that one of our strongest players wouldn't arrive until well into the game. But nonetheless, <a href="http://bigredultimate.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Big Red</a> picked up from where we left off the day before, jumping out to a 4-0 lead. <span style="font-style: italic;">Los Tiburones</span> from Aqua gradually clawed their way back into it, and tore off their own run of four straight points to start the second half. Big Red fought back, and took the lead again. Aqua scored two straight and was up by one when the clock ran out. But Big Red notched the equalizer, tying the game with one, winner-take-all point remaining. It wasn't the stuff of greatness from either team, but eventually (and perhaps fittingly), Chapy, captain of Aqua, ended up snatching the disc in the endzone for the season's final point.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWZea7fE_B0ff9qijVF47qKEWRVw5JLCpRfS_4yHelkFK6YDjng2sM_Dv50JmwCVWg9mIf0bvupZxm4qV4CIOe1D9UIqdmkZ43vWTWcx8QaeoQxML2agd9yGgP2QQV4WreTnGLy8FUqxS/s1600/ab.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWZea7fE_B0ff9qijVF47qKEWRVw5JLCpRfS_4yHelkFK6YDjng2sM_Dv50JmwCVWg9mIf0bvupZxm4qV4CIOe1D9UIqdmkZ43vWTWcx8QaeoQxML2agd9yGgP2QQV4WreTnGLy8FUqxS/s400/ab.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539177426705319490" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">This throw, ugly though it was, did connect with Roxi.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQjtWn7IuWz8Y0-J2daQovIUQ4s4FoSR2ZH9J22owrdgtL-4Nj0oTVYorRzJj001UhGrgpb81kNffT87If_oumhZ2NVBcqgkpWKampeo87wDIFO0hbqf4QwU2NfTGxtYc87wM8XgzMxp4/s1600/ac.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQjtWn7IuWz8Y0-J2daQovIUQ4s4FoSR2ZH9J22owrdgtL-4Nj0oTVYorRzJj001UhGrgpb81kNffT87If_oumhZ2NVBcqgkpWKampeo87wDIFO0hbqf4QwU2NfTGxtYc87wM8XgzMxp4/s400/ac.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539177421477470834" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Aqua celebrates wresting the title from our hands. Felicitaciones, Tiburones!</span></span></div><br />We finished with mixed emotions, knowing that our errors left a lot of points on the field and with them, the game. At the same time, we played our strongest when the games mattered the most. Aqua had spent all season building a champion, and they deserved the victory. It was easily the most intense Ultimate game on record in Argentina. Many onlookers passing through Palermo Woods stayed to watch the end. We can only hope that the league continues to grow. With exciting games like this, it's likely.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfHqd4dQ-O5cC1JkjncsWkzwCUqUWrndz564sKfHh3n0wtsHffNAAQIp753e784XTHhlidwpT7lgS43PKukBvq0vAiRmSAxKS_R2CcdRvWnAxnNK8AvI5Q3KUiTyNZjGeKoZWChlXU18Tc/s1600/ad.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfHqd4dQ-O5cC1JkjncsWkzwCUqUWrndz564sKfHh3n0wtsHffNAAQIp753e784XTHhlidwpT7lgS43PKukBvq0vAiRmSAxKS_R2CcdRvWnAxnNK8AvI5Q3KUiTyNZjGeKoZWChlXU18Tc/s400/ad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539177424122340386" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Once again, a beautiful day and a fine-lookin' league</span></span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">July</span>:<br />July featured, well, a lot of work for work. So not so much fun stuff. We celebrated Belu's birthday (this <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/03/catching-up-august.html">time without surprises</a>). We filled our apartment building's party room with friends, catered food, and a whole lotta karaoke. Singing went until the early morning. These were good times!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZCV2Pac5KicpNjxOlG71Orh0hCIDTLNCJflIkbXyqWhZhRDiwBExM27_Icctm09lhSdJGyVzgDE9Emsm7KjECP1C8DPgZ5OopTIK56JN-fDjY-HFE-CSepU_Z0x_ddK6WWrPefzfcVYe5/s1600/ba.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZCV2Pac5KicpNjxOlG71Orh0hCIDTLNCJflIkbXyqWhZhRDiwBExM27_Icctm09lhSdJGyVzgDE9Emsm7KjECP1C8DPgZ5OopTIK56JN-fDjY-HFE-CSepU_Z0x_ddK6WWrPefzfcVYe5/s400/ba.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539176877622090274" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Cantantes!</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gjClLNe9eKbK8RlRibtW75lAmdOr3NdUNlbkO-FOKdn8P4GVFQV1X73xg85zc-sdGGbMYxEGMg1jQBIuAlBkm9lsq9j4wra8vf33FcPDEh0la3DNOzoWY_VQT4VKKh9MaeVYRxtH3z7q/s1600/bb.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gjClLNe9eKbK8RlRibtW75lAmdOr3NdUNlbkO-FOKdn8P4GVFQV1X73xg85zc-sdGGbMYxEGMg1jQBIuAlBkm9lsq9j4wra8vf33FcPDEh0la3DNOzoWY_VQT4VKKh9MaeVYRxtH3z7q/s400/bb.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539176876306599570" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Really getting into it. I don't even think the champagne had much to do with it.</span></span></div><br />In the local ultimate scene we started our first "hat" league with eight teams, and a great opportunity for beginners to give the sport a try. Very much like Chicago's Summer League. I was a <span style="font-style:italic;">Vaquita de San Antonio</span> (Ladybug). Unfortunately, I missed a number of the games, but the idea was great and we will surely follow up with more of these.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilF1Xg8z-Cg9Ri-hXCWUOBqVVDpW2uLSDKBiJ40ep1hVPUzMJeVq2z_VprhsYt1_3qO4fZneyldcpMDBxg7f6kJHlDZz2da98UEgjierXzNf1B_mp7Z8ro5_GnXUkGIE6VAQz7tTnCAM1r/s1600/bd.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilF1Xg8z-Cg9Ri-hXCWUOBqVVDpW2uLSDKBiJ40ep1hVPUzMJeVq2z_VprhsYt1_3qO4fZneyldcpMDBxg7f6kJHlDZz2da98UEgjierXzNf1B_mp7Z8ro5_GnXUkGIE6VAQz7tTnCAM1r/s400/bd.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539176873025738050" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Just a reminder of our gorgeous view. The photos' from July, so it qualifies here.</span></span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">August</span><br />August followed July as one of the busiest months I've ever had at work. At times I was doing three jobs at once (four if you count wedding planning). It left little time for enjoying life in Buenos Aires. So there is unfortunately very little to tell of local adventures.<br /><br />I did go back to Baroda, India for work again, this time for two and a half weeks. I'm working closely with a smaller team there, and on this trip I got to become much more connected to the local culture than on <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/08/catching-up-february.html">the last one</a> (and luckily there were no visa shenanigans this time). I ate a <span style="font-style: italic;">ton</span> of Indian food, something I never get to do here in Argentina. It was a nice throwback to my vegetarian days as I only ate meat on one occasion throughout the trip. Yet I went home stuffed every night.<br /><br />All that overeating can really take its toll, but my <span style="font-style: italic;">compañeros</span> turned me on to a local remedy called <span style="font-style: italic;">paan</span>. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paan" _blank="">Paan</a> is betel leaf wrapped around, well, I don't even really know what was in there. It reminded me of <span style="font-style: italic;">yerba</span>, but you would never actually eat yerba directly. They come with various varieties - chocolate, frozen fruit, and who knows what else. You throw the whole thing in your mouth like a tobacco chaw, and then slowly let it disintegrate without chewing. I don't know if it actually helps with the digestion or not, but it definitely tasted good. After one or two of these, I was craving them every night. And fortunately, every night I was able to have one.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCApbEENMAZi8xjyEOG-9NldYOYb6UluaqtOz8Y83qSfGXV0eCT3eTEUAVtuvz7Evh7UaW2CaS8CeVVn1aI3oD8QPBl-8HirP8DD6Y-3PmO8XLHc0tGwjUOiryLGz6DQXbTiqlIzIZPQQi/s1600/ca.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCApbEENMAZi8xjyEOG-9NldYOYb6UluaqtOz8Y83qSfGXV0eCT3eTEUAVtuvz7Evh7UaW2CaS8CeVVn1aI3oD8QPBl-8HirP8DD6Y-3PmO8XLHc0tGwjUOiryLGz6DQXbTiqlIzIZPQQi/s400/ca.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539176869027169538" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The name of this joint is Rich Pan. I don't know if this guy's name is Rich, but we should, for now, just call him the Pan Man.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_OrqXnE1j9PwkZVIKfcSk1Iuc5Z0IV-NUmTwchFcNdIqGxxfUwtdqIKN7MGskdeJNFKPtxJjhtNNx6B5wIt-p6N54sARKnzcNL1BR5yit_U169haidhDytaRAIqXCrEjjpR86ifDfoHy/s1600/cb.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_OrqXnE1j9PwkZVIKfcSk1Iuc5Z0IV-NUmTwchFcNdIqGxxfUwtdqIKN7MGskdeJNFKPtxJjhtNNx6B5wIt-p6N54sARKnzcNL1BR5yit_U169haidhDytaRAIqXCrEjjpR86ifDfoHy/s400/cb.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539175606483628194" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I was so stuffed after a vegetarian buffet, my biggest concern was how I was going to fit anything else in my stomach...</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCZex_ewQz_m-MZmmOncq8rkrfsSvF0lKdAEvcaMSetySYfL688vce4wM9olM4ItSzKoAkiX2w3sg3BkRVrM-q-5FCc5AykwytK_WIq0FeQYVHXg3Lp2eDS2TMvmTPuJahZ6MfotGOCW-/s1600/cc.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCZex_ewQz_m-MZmmOncq8rkrfsSvF0lKdAEvcaMSetySYfL688vce4wM9olM4ItSzKoAkiX2w3sg3BkRVrM-q-5FCc5AykwytK_WIq0FeQYVHXg3Lp2eDS2TMvmTPuJahZ6MfotGOCW-/s400/cc.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539175600618703906" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">...but it doesn't really go in your stomach since the idea is to let it dissolve in your mouth. Still, this is pretty darn big. I was nearly drooling.</span></span></div><br /><br />The other highlight was a trip to a local palace which I had heretofore not known about in Baroda. So I leave you this time with various photos of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lakshmi_Vilas_Palace" target="_blank">Laxmi Vilas Palace</a> originally built by the Maharaja Sayajirao Gaekwad III. (The photos don't really do it justice. It was a rainy day and they would not let me take pictures inside. Trust me, though, this is a gorgeous place, if a bit antiquated).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBuSLA2BNc4Zwyp03DA8SGZI4QhUU5qXyUhc9FVbKhc0gp1KRIvGYhR4Sh3_hEB6yPf1EMCyBPDJ2xq-AIAIp-S5_YxYO2GA0A5lK-bZ2p0p4WD6_czp0rJuXoewKgIMPb76tLHv8OC3i/s1600/da.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBuSLA2BNc4Zwyp03DA8SGZI4QhUU5qXyUhc9FVbKhc0gp1KRIvGYhR4Sh3_hEB6yPf1EMCyBPDJ2xq-AIAIp-S5_YxYO2GA0A5lK-bZ2p0p4WD6_czp0rJuXoewKgIMPb76tLHv8OC3i/s400/da.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539175590594903826" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">It was so humid, it took about 20 minutes for my camera to stop fogging over once we left the air-conditioned car. This was the first "good" picture.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZow2HNB_5l2dTxYmgg4d1aDCaZsK4iW2OJPTX_QzjlMy33Z-3Km76WR4mn5UpW22Q0M8B0bsSN5fnRKGd1C_W7WTpazF2y4367-TJJUgkh7FKgBun6cv4kacjXpwUQ678MYOycLFrH_f/s1600/db.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZow2HNB_5l2dTxYmgg4d1aDCaZsK4iW2OJPTX_QzjlMy33Z-3Km76WR4mn5UpW22Q0M8B0bsSN5fnRKGd1C_W7WTpazF2y4367-TJJUgkh7FKgBun6cv4kacjXpwUQ678MYOycLFrH_f/s400/db.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539175588146784770" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Moses</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWq706myBqJdLQEyPENzaFjbCyNGBAKA8aVTwyJvsrz_VRoiQ5Jl3CtVQxJevOmrFa6sf0IFgNHnmvyBB-h0_m2hQoWxf4pgSoanomTHyIOCXJXxJstaPmpsSH6ArU1QjD2PwOEeRTdjPf/s1600/dc.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWq706myBqJdLQEyPENzaFjbCyNGBAKA8aVTwyJvsrz_VRoiQ5Jl3CtVQxJevOmrFa6sf0IFgNHnmvyBB-h0_m2hQoWxf4pgSoanomTHyIOCXJXxJstaPmpsSH6ArU1QjD2PwOEeRTdjPf/s400/dc.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539175578781351714" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The palace is surrounded by a nice golf course. Perhaps something to try on the next visit.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrqalqVhGG-0XuOAad2xQB-ulx5VfwcNUC5z8NT_qPAM2oayQEtACMQoDcM9mjtlBRsdXqz_phjAVf0UM6XmEHTInWj44ZeHVwCcUjV_bhaQ-yWd02a6oRRf6ncFJWKCBESQmKe3WbaSS/s1600/dd.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrqalqVhGG-0XuOAad2xQB-ulx5VfwcNUC5z8NT_qPAM2oayQEtACMQoDcM9mjtlBRsdXqz_phjAVf0UM6XmEHTInWj44ZeHVwCcUjV_bhaQ-yWd02a6oRRf6ncFJWKCBESQmKe3WbaSS/s400/dd.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539174711605323522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivC9yGELIw548U6-xuyITcP5qaOJBei69VPSZPLYNVjhJonTNQmFCSH7BFyIRAPIr74PH8TVVjKHYZ3aboOu-yB6DzCjsHq-JzJRT-EOC14AQoG_d523Lho7OeEuAYSLRUPGg4ap0sMQZO/s1600/de.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivC9yGELIw548U6-xuyITcP5qaOJBei69VPSZPLYNVjhJonTNQmFCSH7BFyIRAPIr74PH8TVVjKHYZ3aboOu-yB6DzCjsHq-JzJRT-EOC14AQoG_d523Lho7OeEuAYSLRUPGg4ap0sMQZO/s400/de.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539174707508953314" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnecE6bZZv5OOk0YV7aqXrfJHYv75Xmr_d_RFE8onKQ1ASf73NxoDFIS7L25-kz0cnjmrkVmn1Z7iNdlAIWkeMtxcVD1oqF8AdRV5OKKCN48Dv08PnTwda97bz6jeYapmK2K3o03TUgEYh/s1600/df.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnecE6bZZv5OOk0YV7aqXrfJHYv75Xmr_d_RFE8onKQ1ASf73NxoDFIS7L25-kz0cnjmrkVmn1Z7iNdlAIWkeMtxcVD1oqF8AdRV5OKKCN48Dv08PnTwda97bz6jeYapmK2K3o03TUgEYh/s400/df.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539174700041873122" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWaIJAAdw7FRspn897VhhZ6DaBZ1pZW4u-QzYxvM9hktUPlpy6EFH9zVxMdwM0jcIfSAGueCnXNXTZu-yklWX2V7yqOdzDHi7AcUnRPXP3vb9jxs4Y5JHq_CoCkT-KRmnBCU8uo5oC8FA/s1600/dg.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWaIJAAdw7FRspn897VhhZ6DaBZ1pZW4u-QzYxvM9hktUPlpy6EFH9zVxMdwM0jcIfSAGueCnXNXTZu-yklWX2V7yqOdzDHi7AcUnRPXP3vb9jxs4Y5JHq_CoCkT-KRmnBCU8uo5oC8FA/s400/dg.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539174692449159250" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFnRAOwUSUwnDYdvoqPexuTjUl9Z-WeDhYXpS-oHffzsKvQjiNvuHkwUhaL_8nYgHRuaz89Zq27ZC9Uxeq3pllKCzz_MoITfaqrL2sAx51lzbCz7xCx0dXFubUX_3loNaH6D0Ycui9K0zF/s1600/dh.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFnRAOwUSUwnDYdvoqPexuTjUl9Z-WeDhYXpS-oHffzsKvQjiNvuHkwUhaL_8nYgHRuaz89Zq27ZC9Uxeq3pllKCzz_MoITfaqrL2sAx51lzbCz7xCx0dXFubUX_3loNaH6D0Ycui9K0zF/s400/dh.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539174687366666914" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Other writing from J/J/A:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/06/top-50-albums-of-00s-23-don-caballero.html">Top 50 Albums - Don Caballero: World Class Listening Problem</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/07/top-50-albums-of-00s-22-mission-of.html">Top 50 Albums - Mission of Burma: The Obliterati</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/08/fishbone-teatro-colegiales.html">Fishbone @ Teatro Colegiales</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/08/top-50-albums-of-00s-21-amy-winehouse.html">Top 50 Albums - Amy Winehouse: Back to Black</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/08/top-50-albums-of-00s-20-lawrence-arms.html">Top 50 Albums - The Lawrence Arms: Oh! Calcutta!</a><br /><br /><a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/2010/06/crazy-for-copa.html">Crazy for the Copa</a><br /><a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/2010/07/well-worn-practice-of-self-delusion.html">The Well Worn Practice of Self-Delusion</a><br /><a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/2010/08/freedom-is-slavery.html">FREEDOM IS SLAVERY</a>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-5691337521367815892010-10-31T16:22:00.011-03:002010-11-01T13:20:07.194-03:00Catching Up: May<span style="font-style: italic;">Geeez, I'm still so, so far behind in the blogging here. So we'll go though May as quickly as humanly possible. That will be difficult because there was much going on...</span><br /><br />At the outset of May, we were lucky to have Emily and Stewart visiting from NYC. The first weekend they were in town, however, featured a great tragedy. I'm not sure if I have mentioned it on this blog before, but I have declared my futbol allegiance here in Argentina. <span style="font-style: italic;">Soy hincha del Club Atletico Independiente</span>. That happens to be the same team as Belu. As Stewart is a sports journalist, we decided we should definitely take him and Emily to a soccer match. It just so happened that we were nearing the end of the season, and there was a hugely important game between our team and Argentinos Juniors. Argentinos were in first place, with Independiente in third. With only one remaining game, the winner would have an excellent chance of taking the title. So we decided to go. Independiente was easily ruling the day when the wheels fell off. Despite a 3-1 lead with 20 minutes go go, the Red Devils gave up three goals and lost the match with just seconds remaining. It was a remarkable collapse. We're talking a Dough Flutie Hail Mary times three with the championship in the balance. Stewart and Emily got to witness a treat, but Belu and I (especially Belu) were not happy campers.<br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_sDGs5Ko2OM?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_sDGs5Ko2OM?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Utterly painful.</span><br /><br />But we eventually got over it thanks to some thick steak and sweet dulce de leche. At this point, we have the "hosting" thing down, so we were able to show our guests the best <span style="font-style: italic;">parilla</span>, tango show, and ice cream parlors. Everything above that is gravy, but we had plenty of gravy, too. On the second weekend, we took an excursion to Estancia La Juanita in Chascomús. This was my first trip to an Argentine Estancia, and though it was a bit cold, the food was delicious, the air clean, and the surroundings peaceful. We usually only get one of those three in the city.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGFVzdNdcr1ycXqWHHvlJPfesf9AsJpo28rJHbC6sdoHHWHL3kctiMbi10VTpmMIsWJtsYQglmoQZnHsZKyktZJEWE71wMmWbfI97NRRYl3k9G1Wke4m2gEC6cgRZoMBlaJTic4av62I-/s1600/IMG_2689.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGFVzdNdcr1ycXqWHHvlJPfesf9AsJpo28rJHbC6sdoHHWHL3kctiMbi10VTpmMIsWJtsYQglmoQZnHsZKyktZJEWE71wMmWbfI97NRRYl3k9G1Wke4m2gEC6cgRZoMBlaJTic4av62I-/s400/IMG_2689.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534316673172248658" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Stewart gives </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Mate</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> a go. Emily looks on approvingly.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhViys1_my8KyJVxNlwJYGpZCkCclnUHsbXpOr618lPoevFP0-xQeoKnlt80Ti7vMCjZCzTddG3furyKkWnP348HDw3cS60w1RlCaFiPYOQHxs79BHGECAFCm39djB-CX4jE50_OtvXbS0r/s1600/IMG_2703.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhViys1_my8KyJVxNlwJYGpZCkCclnUHsbXpOr618lPoevFP0-xQeoKnlt80Ti7vMCjZCzTddG3furyKkWnP348HDw3cS60w1RlCaFiPYOQHxs79BHGECAFCm39djB-CX4jE50_OtvXbS0r/s400/IMG_2703.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534318152179228274" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We made up our own names for these dogs. But I can't remember them now. The white one should have been called "crazy."</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03Nx9SVGU2f4iEvHJfqPk3BVNdS2xy400En5l9XgiWvCxn9Kd_wJgCN9zPaZchAk-7qrAZtexnewChjpP3Zp7HBlV7HQz1_aKxog6nz5P5SDvv5nmZJfbuCcbOxMSmrQfZuo_2d0tqKqa/s1600/IMG_2718.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03Nx9SVGU2f4iEvHJfqPk3BVNdS2xy400En5l9XgiWvCxn9Kd_wJgCN9zPaZchAk-7qrAZtexnewChjpP3Zp7HBlV7HQz1_aKxog6nz5P5SDvv5nmZJfbuCcbOxMSmrQfZuo_2d0tqKqa/s400/IMG_2718.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534318154772625986" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We had to keep the fire in the room burning all night. This meant sleep came in three hour stretches. It also meant we came home smelling like barbecue. Of course, if you gotta smell like something, there are worse odors out there.</span></div><br />We capped off a great visit with another trip to Tea Connection, I feared a bit for Stewart's return to New York as he became borderline dependent during the week - it just means he has to come back. By all accounts he is surviving just fine, but certainly misses the "Come to Papa."<br /><br />After their departure, I began putting things in place for the big event in May. Not my 35th birthday, but it took place on the same day. For a long time, I felt that Belu was not just the right girl for me, but the best thing in my life. So I was ready to take the plunge. I knew I was dating my future wife, and it was time to let her know, too. With Emily's help, I was able to get the right ring here without the risk of getting scammed by an Argentine jeweler. The big problem would be the surprise. It wasn't like we hadn't discussed the future. Heck, we'd even discussed the type of ring.<br /><br />It's not very often that we get dressed up to go out for a fancy dinner. So I decided my birthday would be perfect cover. My plan was set to have a drink at the very fancy Bibliotheque Bar in the Sofitel, make my proposal, and then follow with dinner. Unfortunately, when it was time to go, the rain was coming down in sheets. Belu said, "Well, we can skip the bar and just wait for rain to stop." I think I said, "No." We snagged a taxi and arrived relatively dry. But because of the weather the Bibliotheque was full of old, rich hotel guests who were afraid to brave the conditions. So instead we sat in the adjoining Cafe Arroyo. It's not quite as elegant, and there were people in there working on laptops and having casual conversations. But I couldn't deviate from the plan...<br /><br />I waited until our drinks had arrived to ensure that there would be no interruption from the waiter. I told Belu what she means to me, and how happy I am with her. More importantly, we talked about the future and how many great things we have awaiting us. At this point I probably went off script a bit. I'm not sure if I ended up asking her the question directly or not. But once she saw the ring, she was all smiles.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2C6x3-jdHVciZvXBsewMRZPCBtzOEJllgd01hTSYeexlwp7cj3MGT1zrJPEXG76-vOzW_G3iIh708uo5CNYtc7FIKd304IG4KhKiaIEbc8xadVnEH99OXRgaI9zNzk7tYzZRzjw84bgI/s1600/tortolos.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2C6x3-jdHVciZvXBsewMRZPCBtzOEJllgd01hTSYeexlwp7cj3MGT1zrJPEXG76-vOzW_G3iIh708uo5CNYtc7FIKd304IG4KhKiaIEbc8xadVnEH99OXRgaI9zNzk7tYzZRzjw84bgI/s400/tortolos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492793079607453538" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">A few minutes after Belu said "Yes!"</span></div><br />Belu said, "I want to call my Mom." The other surprise was that I had already called to tell her my intentions (and ask her permission), and that she would be meeting us for dinner. I think I wasn't the only one whose face hurt from smiling all night. So my life took a very big step forward. I don't feel old for 35, but I feel more mature. More importantly, I'm ready to begin a new chapter. Pretty soon it will become official.<br /><br />Wedding plans are rolling along and you can <a href="http://beluyandy.blogspot.com/">read all about them here</a>.<br /><br />Other writing from May:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/05/to-b-back-and-forth-review-iron-man-2.html">A to B Back and Forth Movie Review: Iron Man II</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/05/top-50-albums-of-00s-24-flaming-lips.html">Top 50 Albums #24: The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots</a>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-26812972820098751082010-09-05T06:51:00.107-03:002010-09-13T10:34:34.483-03:00Catching Up: March/AprilOnce again I find myself behind in catching up, let alone blogging along. So once again, it's mostly pictures and captions today. On Easter weekend, Belu and I headed north to <i>Misiones</i> to visit the famous Iguazu Falls. Despite being ridiculously crowded, it did not disappoint. Here are the photos! Click on any to embiggen (many are worth the click!).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhysp9QMVEbXs7emdS1bmBlPgR2bvKfRdySx_VaLcgHKnzz4-5o7hCQtnr30Wd7R17WGLogxPyCn7PyR_kLImVAe3uhG6iyR1PlU6nwssTnq9FOHGcatnx8_y3QmS-PrcPDdi8gLYNjt4/s1600/01rio.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhysp9QMVEbXs7emdS1bmBlPgR2bvKfRdySx_VaLcgHKnzz4-5o7hCQtnr30Wd7R17WGLogxPyCn7PyR_kLImVAe3uhG6iyR1PlU6nwssTnq9FOHGcatnx8_y3QmS-PrcPDdi8gLYNjt4/s400/01rio.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513394775588708786" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The day we arrived, our first excursion was on the </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Rios Paraná</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">, and Iguazu, the rivers that divide Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil. An easygoing journey with really lousy pizza.</span><br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxY6nhRduTwX51NezY-OT-5IxStvNI_uMEuVJQf_IMZYSFEBMYYLvuPQ0wbVYYyu5gT3xHpUtjBFhP2jaCtXKkun0dfH2k1IeYHxS185V4tMEFkwM7JrkDg05tBTZwzM7Q7dTKrv0VfVEZ/s1600/02natives.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxY6nhRduTwX51NezY-OT-5IxStvNI_uMEuVJQf_IMZYSFEBMYYLvuPQ0wbVYYyu5gT3xHpUtjBFhP2jaCtXKkun0dfH2k1IeYHxS185V4tMEFkwM7JrkDg05tBTZwzM7Q7dTKrv0VfVEZ/s400/02natives.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513394187188463794" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The only real destination of this river journey was pretty darn heartbreaking. The boat stopped near a sandy embankment and some natives played primitive music and danced. It was a meager show for the tourists. Belu and I would have rather just not seen it. All these people were watching and taking pictures, and clapped politely when it was over, but the whole thing just had a freakshow feel to it.</span><br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJ1ElRCmPpuF2QVALPZPka1y3T43Cuayv-G4JgWcSN2t9VMsdnq07l3EDp3kuDeYjFJBz43I04r4xp1_vRDItGtm8XYi-geDheX9v1yZuKhGPluhoFEao3c4juzbEOZOU8X8-J74s1BnK/s1600/03sunsetted.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJ1ElRCmPpuF2QVALPZPka1y3T43Cuayv-G4JgWcSN2t9VMsdnq07l3EDp3kuDeYjFJBz43I04r4xp1_vRDItGtm8XYi-geDheX9v1yZuKhGPluhoFEao3c4juzbEOZOU8X8-J74s1BnK/s400/03sunsetted.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513394178637865602" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">At least the ride home was peaceful. We talked with one of the boat's workers as the sun set behind the trees. Well, Belu talked to him. I did my best to understand his accent.</span><br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-QWW3DHVPG6wg7Sk8OjxlP-7Wxj9XNL2YDSVEDX3H3W2dz414TJsnJkaX9Bk5fi0uyd43dMWG1X-EqCgMJIFQuFBEE_QZdDcxk6GJm-ezLkjEyDCcU4NjPZUKJqJLUlKxR2r1rsiagMQ/s1600/04garganta.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-QWW3DHVPG6wg7Sk8OjxlP-7Wxj9XNL2YDSVEDX3H3W2dz414TJsnJkaX9Bk5fi0uyd43dMWG1X-EqCgMJIFQuFBEE_QZdDcxk6GJm-ezLkjEyDCcU4NjPZUKJqJLUlKxR2r1rsiagMQ/s400/04garganta.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513394176581693554" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">OK, enough river cruises. THIS is what we came for. The view from above La Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Throat).</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvgmlxqzw3uiinjhRNVzCA7lHUaK3nCsERBt2LhMMgBtJRIwPUzOJzT-_ASJN51VGhT7GVYqv8RkXWxNFDpj0J4w7XsE2E_n53dDJaATi3yqGiK4UHcfuoI21bK5f6znKYyAXRR2xtNb9/s1600/05couple_garganta.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvgmlxqzw3uiinjhRNVzCA7lHUaK3nCsERBt2LhMMgBtJRIwPUzOJzT-_ASJN51VGhT7GVYqv8RkXWxNFDpj0J4w7XsE2E_n53dDJaATi3yqGiK4UHcfuoI21bK5f6znKYyAXRR2xtNb9/s400/05couple_garganta.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513394172765030210" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me and Bels above La Garganta. No water pours on you here, but everyone gets a fresh shower every time the wind picks up.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfCMl9s2HZ7yeIRx3_y45kFA-uidZFw9HgfNNRlrfFuDVW-PVRegti5bLOXIC60SPPJYIA9r4eTZlMxipZ1rF6_IqPG2BqPWCj4G_v4s-8GND9wjtkCAc1d1uMowO4NFBbA8V9nr69WI_/s1600/06fromboat.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfCMl9s2HZ7yeIRx3_y45kFA-uidZFw9HgfNNRlrfFuDVW-PVRegti5bLOXIC60SPPJYIA9r4eTZlMxipZ1rF6_IqPG2BqPWCj4G_v4s-8GND9wjtkCAc1d1uMowO4NFBbA8V9nr69WI_/s400/06fromboat.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513394172875210482" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">So we jumped in a boat and cruised around the river. But this time we had a real purpose. We're going to follow that boat in front of us - right under the falls.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGG3AZlcpjGf68nisOByMwV871GERTVhFidsCmZ4dhbQ9woCo6SigYrZ-fprYdoUzg30JeaYG64_S4jNHtFNa2mt-0idE_xTXKDrQwuE16zovEppbG5F25SZ3uF56FTXyyvNCeI7PF1Kf/s1600/07tinyshipwastossed.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGG3AZlcpjGf68nisOByMwV871GERTVhFidsCmZ4dhbQ9woCo6SigYrZ-fprYdoUzg30JeaYG64_S4jNHtFNa2mt-0idE_xTXKDrQwuE16zovEppbG5F25SZ3uF56FTXyyvNCeI7PF1Kf/s400/07tinyshipwastossed.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513392919834614242" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The boat after ours. I don't believe the boat actually went directly under the water flow, but I have never been more wet in my life - even that Stevie Wonder concert in Detroit was a desert compared to this.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAoRh53XIfP1Cx1dX-9D03fkpkaHjINkZKyfDNpGHGjt8iEEOQiQKBKBODyDUww38pFZRo1XBYHncGDTqTm-oKUNbiXMX2gvATcLLHvKTeETD1h3tJmOZlgzuDfG1rGlGWqNj7mF4DzIk/s1600/08bels.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAoRh53XIfP1Cx1dX-9D03fkpkaHjINkZKyfDNpGHGjt8iEEOQiQKBKBODyDUww38pFZRo1XBYHncGDTqTm-oKUNbiXMX2gvATcLLHvKTeETD1h3tJmOZlgzuDfG1rGlGWqNj7mF4DzIk/s400/08bels.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513392916413386114" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Belu - post shower.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMx4dspGmTlBWN13fte_n86dpgxWXgrGRaqT4BfzN7IJKpe2EBi9gnyR4zP6uVfUekkFF9tXpl3kD8Wfppjp4NTaFDC79ehD9LUG-SXfQRlqdtvDALzqUMyALTCmxw-20mavo1Qp-3Tmv/s1600/09yo.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMx4dspGmTlBWN13fte_n86dpgxWXgrGRaqT4BfzN7IJKpe2EBi9gnyR4zP6uVfUekkFF9tXpl3kD8Wfppjp4NTaFDC79ehD9LUG-SXfQRlqdtvDALzqUMyALTCmxw-20mavo1Qp-3Tmv/s400/09yo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513392906619228658" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And me, post shower. People have asked me if this picture is fake. It is not.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0f9oXpJXBWewai9O7Bg0gs0IPrJSZTpAdGNgjc4PyltnhponfumWsssEQ3wpu3snFTikSXVLYbQpA5HL1Qnkyr0sQJCrFFkUtkQNHzlsNbwTrTWbubEHAeuaitfTlhy04OaYBEEY5HRxT/s1600/10cascades.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0f9oXpJXBWewai9O7Bg0gs0IPrJSZTpAdGNgjc4PyltnhponfumWsssEQ3wpu3snFTikSXVLYbQpA5HL1Qnkyr0sQJCrFFkUtkQNHzlsNbwTrTWbubEHAeuaitfTlhy04OaYBEEY5HRxT/s400/10cascades.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513392902065992658" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Another place to get soaked. These cascades have names but I can't remember them now. I think it's like the three sisters or something.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguKcvqu171iCqOsxU_MQV8rtoleB5VS0RCoYQOMxKFkItmYLR1a6lDTbI2Q3PItFIul96JpkBlTTRsj55sET3cYa521j_yEAvC_YM70qw5boYQ8Md_HWKPtDDF5tWXbq7dzmXpKKyA9no2/s1600/11lookingdown.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguKcvqu171iCqOsxU_MQV8rtoleB5VS0RCoYQOMxKFkItmYLR1a6lDTbI2Q3PItFIul96JpkBlTTRsj55sET3cYa521j_yEAvC_YM70qw5boYQ8Md_HWKPtDDF5tWXbq7dzmXpKKyA9no2/s400/11lookingdown.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513392898232690706" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">When standing above, the water races calmly by, and it seems like it would be a good idea to jump in and go for a ride. But the deafening noise is a reminder that there are violent collisions below.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBjYpGUtWZMl3iECTuWQdGGExCe09Asr1v0t1mJYFUT08Q3Vny7eAqQBtTgCBsudXDYCAPl84xC1imMSjQci25MqOUCQ-lP37ZdExDRtp3BwmUPzFQlWIggRRqtEni2QAQIQsoUdvmP0w/s1600/12happycouple.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBjYpGUtWZMl3iECTuWQdGGExCe09Asr1v0t1mJYFUT08Q3Vny7eAqQBtTgCBsudXDYCAPl84xC1imMSjQci25MqOUCQ-lP37ZdExDRtp3BwmUPzFQlWIggRRqtEni2QAQIQsoUdvmP0w/s400/12happycouple.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391926122597202" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The place couldn't have been more crowded. Finding space to get a picture of just us was nearly impossible. No wonder we look so happy!</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdGQORLg82N8CrUFMMEdOfmoNCmz7uTTsti8siAbh3lRNtvTtaZvOT3L1-4X0xHl-O7i3qcirf7ZmzQknQMxDQwxsqvkG4oa34CKP3WimyRJ-S-xhZYwHfoT4ZnoTfMii6_Bs82m86-KLG/s1600/13ralphie1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdGQORLg82N8CrUFMMEdOfmoNCmz7uTTsti8siAbh3lRNtvTtaZvOT3L1-4X0xHl-O7i3qcirf7ZmzQknQMxDQwxsqvkG4oa34CKP3WimyRJ-S-xhZYwHfoT4ZnoTfMii6_Bs82m86-KLG/s400/13ralphie1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391920384055762" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">There were gorgeous butterflies everywhere. Many were freaking huge. We named this guy Ralphie. He did us the favor of sitting still for a bit.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-LFcLyAJ9lwNwEH1oNFYyyJdXEXAZO76-F_SoCjYhcKTQbWA9MAPsIddX2YjW8xnnH4xMqoZ2GehdlNUO2WVL9UdwEGoUs5ewwdHTx3V32oaGl4qWau2Rux6cKSDqnhEQI9kATOhMLTJT/s1600/14ralphie2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-LFcLyAJ9lwNwEH1oNFYyyJdXEXAZO76-F_SoCjYhcKTQbWA9MAPsIddX2YjW8xnnH4xMqoZ2GehdlNUO2WVL9UdwEGoUs5ewwdHTx3V32oaGl4qWau2Rux6cKSDqnhEQI9kATOhMLTJT/s400/14ralphie2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391917024990242" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I thought that Ralphie was chewing on a piece of grass or something. But now I believe that green line reaching from his mouth is his butterfly tongue. He must have been digging for critters.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEt_7-R1C6T-yOGUsrSKVmqADynlKki1s3O51MnJd9n56B3wkwEFCBVdiiksXWfkAMHP5wL58H2KmsUF9fdkm6kT-qJp7q5LE35Fl1-Kbe4_FULlBUNobptBk3YATUcE40mrynHPZqf5xq/s1600/15pajaroo.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEt_7-R1C6T-yOGUsrSKVmqADynlKki1s3O51MnJd9n56B3wkwEFCBVdiiksXWfkAMHP5wL58H2KmsUF9fdkm6kT-qJp7q5LE35Fl1-Kbe4_FULlBUNobptBk3YATUcE40mrynHPZqf5xq/s400/15pajaroo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391913462217682" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The photo doesn't do justice to how cool these birds were. They looked like cartoons.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZtQvp_WdSMBo9ylxe5h0yCvTLdgPNng5J60Ql3T9sWBJ8a_xACER3NhrcEOFZqxjIwUJKsZU44foyEWgijfaCn4gQ5CKWGmJoBx6gvG4zEGw37t2b17GgOaq2BltZpyraSQSCLStRWVj/s1600/16hector.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZtQvp_WdSMBo9ylxe5h0yCvTLdgPNng5J60Ql3T9sWBJ8a_xACER3NhrcEOFZqxjIwUJKsZU44foyEWgijfaCn4gQ5CKWGmJoBx6gvG4zEGw37t2b17GgOaq2BltZpyraSQSCLStRWVj/s400/16hector.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391907313165122" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Speaking of cartoons, these Coati come right up to you hoping to be fed. They are practically domesticated by now. Also seen, enormous spiders, toucans, walking sticks, and various other critters.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb15AXL4H0GW9QfxjQKhwAeEtKFkkZ85gCIj9tvOqwie7hGd5xRb8aYi-pFs0R5IGf_eb4RKf5IUqz3V35NR2-1ITmPjUaclHtTErGyagHxUWbW2Pib2hG4-2U1xiGGp8tLhb86ocknNjH/s1600/17ralphiescousin.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb15AXL4H0GW9QfxjQKhwAeEtKFkkZ85gCIj9tvOqwie7hGd5xRb8aYi-pFs0R5IGf_eb4RKf5IUqz3V35NR2-1ITmPjUaclHtTErGyagHxUWbW2Pib2hG4-2U1xiGGp8tLhb86ocknNjH/s400/17ralphiescousin.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391462526141314" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Can you see it? There's a butterfly in the sunlight just over this waterfall. Give it a click. I love how he is just fluttering along, meanwhile this water is raging..</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipR_7Vr0zrzVaifOHwUZSB7pIfvw4IFZrf9ZBnjEz1jT8KIhd5yN5PuFN3SnmWaWfRCSWqCt93ilDwbNKAGSsQ-ZQzB6l5hHQs8QDRyWa-ZTQwA66uiOe1c4y3Qb7oyKck4M17Xq5_EMby/s1600/18brazilbels.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipR_7Vr0zrzVaifOHwUZSB7pIfvw4IFZrf9ZBnjEz1jT8KIhd5yN5PuFN3SnmWaWfRCSWqCt93ilDwbNKAGSsQ-ZQzB6l5hHQs8QDRyWa-ZTQwA66uiOe1c4y3Qb7oyKck4M17Xq5_EMby/s400/18brazilbels.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391453964268066" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">They say that the best falls are on the Argentine side, but Brazil has the best views. Obviously the lady here is gorgeous (she's an Argentine on the Brazilian side -not sure how the math works on that one). They're not lying about the view. We could have stood here all day.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWq4tpRbhHNNaNG1ntqbfnJ5kHbjbxmoQX8D4HmOCPfkjhN0lDvedLocITZfvY50EP_de2m-Zc9Bo4jN5ijVrCaDuo8YkT_Rdr2dwBoj38eWOzV7XlJLA3VWLX50hhSvrSRWTKmCpnbHA/s1600/19brazil1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWq4tpRbhHNNaNG1ntqbfnJ5kHbjbxmoQX8D4HmOCPfkjhN0lDvedLocITZfvY50EP_de2m-Zc9Bo4jN5ijVrCaDuo8YkT_Rdr2dwBoj38eWOzV7XlJLA3VWLX50hhSvrSRWTKmCpnbHA/s400/19brazil1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391448437370930" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Just one small part of the view from Brazil.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthynSvCNdTilJJD4ZKyRW8k2HvFEksq_EmiEgKVd8brNrq61_V9ZGn2ZSe-ut92tR5IXNBOl0UK5u73oh591X8SqlyWe2TnXuxOe5T6Ke54i01f7xs8-YVBDFDVn6VOCg4U6v3ffXrdVx/s1600/20brazil2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthynSvCNdTilJJD4ZKyRW8k2HvFEksq_EmiEgKVd8brNrq61_V9ZGn2ZSe-ut92tR5IXNBOl0UK5u73oh591X8SqlyWe2TnXuxOe5T6Ke54i01f7xs8-YVBDFDVn6VOCg4U6v3ffXrdVx/s400/20brazil2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391437846609394" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Because it was Semana Santa, the whole world was here on vacation. Getting through customs to get to the Brazil side took us well over an hour. That unfortunately really cut into our time in the park. But even with that headache, the journey was well worth it.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22zgn641592nSN7mloTyNAXPOmWmmDlmLRpzTG6-lNPZz1N0hyphenhyphenWdmeMVaYN9duqHvOKdS0B5utl0qm6w7f3c0kZOT9Dw8gqnkHA_jd4pHjeuqfLsbo1UCbtiDLKofBrFMo2qz9Rs61EiN/s1600/21brazil3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22zgn641592nSN7mloTyNAXPOmWmmDlmLRpzTG6-lNPZz1N0hyphenhyphenWdmeMVaYN9duqHvOKdS0B5utl0qm6w7f3c0kZOT9Dw8gqnkHA_jd4pHjeuqfLsbo1UCbtiDLKofBrFMo2qz9Rs61EiN/s400/21brazil3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513391431951301954" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Now on the other side, the Devil's Throat is behind this wall of water.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUSKucAQvdqQfCq0sd_7WzDJlO4REPq0StsC-Syjn9BiNvdolXh9ldshOgE8VU3-S1pjZPqkkkzBxfzhBBnej5LpNhvt2208UVMse_78MbDFbva9SZivSAkBYy6jMU27lEUxueoDvusCMX/s1600/22brazil4.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUSKucAQvdqQfCq0sd_7WzDJlO4REPq0StsC-Syjn9BiNvdolXh9ldshOgE8VU3-S1pjZPqkkkzBxfzhBBnej5LpNhvt2208UVMse_78MbDFbva9SZivSAkBYy6jMU27lEUxueoDvusCMX/s400/22brazil4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513388140102467954" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We had to race through this part. Kind of a bummer.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdTjVHIVl0Dft7ESmUkBWXMxA_c0tUfKBN6rCJ2VTOmxFQTU3yl-8qWA9tKvQUGZxksui95xpfNslVLAgCBlNpEhGaC89nNyxi9AhBIYhFpJfrluRvcsVwMPasNjILhy3A2i7sGDDVW79/s1600/23beluhelmet.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdTjVHIVl0Dft7ESmUkBWXMxA_c0tUfKBN6rCJ2VTOmxFQTU3yl-8qWA9tKvQUGZxksui95xpfNslVLAgCBlNpEhGaC89nNyxi9AhBIYhFpJfrluRvcsVwMPasNjILhy3A2i7sGDDVW79/s400/23beluhelmet.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513388135415740402" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">On the way back, we stopped in Iguazu Forest for some adventure. Here, Belu steels herself for some rappelling. After that and some decent hiking, we finished with a series of zip-lines strung between trees 70 feet off the ground. That was unnerving AND a blast.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-h0bi4oC_wlISfFlXYeajrOomRmwj5TC-x5-Pe-Jr0OqzdCYxlHHZSzNDyi6CWlJBh3PZSbCwQ3o7r_SwfQ83gKrHVMRGBdFzVnxMHpIcgMEV3sv68r-8jvX98cUwk2fBQ6dnSWBRFwSn/s1600/24belurepelu.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-h0bi4oC_wlISfFlXYeajrOomRmwj5TC-x5-Pe-Jr0OqzdCYxlHHZSzNDyi6CWlJBh3PZSbCwQ3o7r_SwfQ83gKrHVMRGBdFzVnxMHpIcgMEV3sv68r-8jvX98cUwk2fBQ6dnSWBRFwSn/s400/24belurepelu.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513388130757383954" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Belu, taking the express elevator and only a couple nicks to show for it.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3NB2p5FphxDqNiWXpj-dlljygixiSGbB96LTHLqadXN5Mu8oIMcX6JXE_rDwpZL7LgGcctnKr_Y7Zalzen0yATedUTZqC5TKzTkKu2yaWdoivYcVoKBPeVGXhdG4Vi9XeWvBybyetE_K/s1600/25tresfronteras.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3NB2p5FphxDqNiWXpj-dlljygixiSGbB96LTHLqadXN5Mu8oIMcX6JXE_rDwpZL7LgGcctnKr_Y7Zalzen0yATedUTZqC5TKzTkKu2yaWdoivYcVoKBPeVGXhdG4Vi9XeWvBybyetE_K/s400/25tresfronteras.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513388126741436258" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Posing at tres fronteras.</span></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HDqodcIfwxUVcr7CYCr7lxJwSr-8gejbKgTlHAWsCI3gr6QfkCZ27FjGc3Pkta_CM5ohvz_1Ii52QfAdjX3gfxjxwN7AQP7Zi_rfnS6SCI_an9gFHZkRsnbCj7kf1bhFSa6kZjkjFXhG/s1600/26mirador.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HDqodcIfwxUVcr7CYCr7lxJwSr-8gejbKgTlHAWsCI3gr6QfkCZ27FjGc3Pkta_CM5ohvz_1Ii52QfAdjX3gfxjxwN7AQP7Zi_rfnS6SCI_an9gFHZkRsnbCj7kf1bhFSa6kZjkjFXhG/s400/26mirador.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513388124414458962" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Tres fronteras. On the left you see Paraguay, on the right Brazil, and under your feet, Argentina (hence the white and sky-blue obelisk). We had an excellent dinner just around the corner from here as the sun set on our trip. Then it was off to the airport to wait for a severely delayed flight. This may be the last time we go away on Semana Santa as it's always insane. When you move to Argentina, people ask if you are going to visit Iguazu. Obviously it was on the list of "to dos." Waiting to have the Brazilian visa was a good idea. We will surely be going back, just not the busiest week of the year.</span><br /></div><br />Other writings from March/April:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/03/top-50-albums-of-00s-25-tapes-n-tapes.html">Top 50 Albums - #25 Tapes 'n Tapes</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/03/top-50-albums-of-00s-26-kings-of-leon.html">Top 50 Albums - #26 Kings of Leon</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/03/top-50-albums-of-00s-27-idlewild-100.html">Top 50 Albums - #27 Idlewild</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/03/top-50-albums-of-00s-28-common-be.html">Top 50 Albums - #28 Common</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/03/top-50-albums-of-00s-29-futureheads.html">Top 50 Albums - #29 The Futureheads</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/03/top-50-albums-of-00s-30-black-keys.html">Top 50 Albums - #30 The Black Keys</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/03/top-50-albums-of-00s-31-wolfmother.html">Top 50 Albums - #31 Wolfmother</a>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-36031493590172563312010-08-03T08:33:00.004-03:002010-08-04T01:23:32.582-03:00Catching Up: FebruaryTime was of the essence. I told the cabbie to step on it while I changed into more presentable clothes in his backseat. I almost forgot how to tell him this because it was the first English-speaking taxi driver I´d dealt with in a very long time. Wait. Let me back up and start from the beginning.<br /><br />I never envisioned my first trip to India would be so fraught with bother. Due to recently added rules, I was not able to obtain a visa in Argentina. The only way for me to make this trip happen was to fly to Chicago and get a visa there. Time was incredibly tight. I packed in 20 minutes after work on Wednesday, scooted out to Ezeiza, and boarded a flight to Miami. I arrived in Chicago on Thursday morning at 10am. If I couldn´t make it to the Indian Consulate by 11:00, it would have been impossible to get the visa in time.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXJuKEozLfNhYSAe5MkK7UrLUcRslsE8FGr98QpxMiMkTQh2-69shZhdpiWofa45D15tQskPXaTWeH2BEgTS-9Lwsab_ncInCscEqfBXeD3lQdLXjSdihZsJkhd1lgqPb4aJZ5bsHZ3mQ/s1600/IMG_4461.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXJuKEozLfNhYSAe5MkK7UrLUcRslsE8FGr98QpxMiMkTQh2-69shZhdpiWofa45D15tQskPXaTWeH2BEgTS-9Lwsab_ncInCscEqfBXeD3lQdLXjSdihZsJkhd1lgqPb4aJZ5bsHZ3mQ/s400/IMG_4461.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497978868344051666" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I wasn't expecting to see camels, but there were a whole lot of 'em. The photo I am missing is of cows wandering the streets, acting like they own the place, which they kind of do.</span></div><br />The cabbie wasn't in the mood to chat, but he did me the favor of zooming downtown. Fate or luck or Jebus also did me the solid of presenting a Kennedy Expressway generally free of traffic. Long story short, I finished my submission with 20 minutes to spare and time to do some work in the Chicago office. By 6pm, I was collecting my freshly updated passport and was soon on my way to my parents´ house for the evening.<br /><br />A relaxing visit with the family passed all too briefly before I was back in the sky. Light snowfall delayed the Chicago to Dallas connection, but I made it in time. As luck would have it, Belu was in Dallas working and we returned to Ezeiza together. We shared a relaxing breakfast Saturday morning at an airport café before I started the security process all over again. From Buenos Aires, I flew to Sao Paulo where a torrential downpour delayed us for two hours. Finally, we departed for London. What was originally a nearly 3 hour transfer was now compressed to 40 minutes. Despite having just spent three of four nights on airplanes, I found the strength to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lf46hDT5SQQ" target="_blank">OJ Simpson</a> my way through Heathrow and barely make the flight to Mumbai. After three hours sleep in a dingy airport hotel, my colleagues and I made our last connection, Baroda. Of course, the suitcase wasn´t so fortunate and was "probably somewhere in London." Needless to say, I arrived exhausted, but I can certainly declare that Ryan Bingham ain't got shit on me. Seriously, I´m the lunatic who drove all over the US for four months, but I never want to do anything like this again. Four out of five nights on the move is simply too much.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_H1fdJMJbmfgMj6sc9ah2-MrYR3C7XkN1zHMxTC0wY3_eR_wxuUxMXfLhVpe-x2mw370Mr-1lJZ4768m_Vnkz6pzNIc5Fx3YUfkdqstJgb8pcWuBjY4wJ5fxz-05DKeeU8zWblCzhQPk/s1600/IMG_4465.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_H1fdJMJbmfgMj6sc9ah2-MrYR3C7XkN1zHMxTC0wY3_eR_wxuUxMXfLhVpe-x2mw370Mr-1lJZ4768m_Vnkz6pzNIc5Fx3YUfkdqstJgb8pcWuBjY4wJ5fxz-05DKeeU8zWblCzhQPk/s400/IMG_4465.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497978859718956866" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Traffic was only 25% more insane than in Buenos Aires, but I suppose we're talking about a pretty high baseline. The major difference - drivers are expected to honk to indicate where they are. All the trucks have this same phrase written on them, and they mean it (the "please" too). </span></div><br />I was in India for a very busy week of work, which you don´t care about. Unfortunately that left little time for sight-seeing. Coworkers who had been there previously warned me that the traffic was bonkers and the level of poverty was shocking. But I have to say that neither really put me off. I suppose after trips to Brazil and enough traveling around Argentina, I am prepared for such experiences. Many people had told me that I would be greeted with a level of poverty far beyond what exists in South America. Yes, it was another level, but the fact that I took it so easily in stride indicates that things aren't so different. After all, the Indians take it in stride. I suppose I´m Argentine enough (but that's a topic for another day).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEMRCbECH_ZOsIZ2HPN9tErEA8qFTQkzM0DcBW1R0acrK6THkKqfqQwt8QsX0lNYkJCp2wZPXmnK3YkCjVM2kdDCuQTQjS-iQSCbPze0mEMjfa6sz_krJbvo9C73sYl4-SnF7k3ymT2dc/s1600/IMG_4479.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEMRCbECH_ZOsIZ2HPN9tErEA8qFTQkzM0DcBW1R0acrK6THkKqfqQwt8QsX0lNYkJCp2wZPXmnK3YkCjVM2kdDCuQTQjS-iQSCbPze0mEMjfa6sz_krJbvo9C73sYl4-SnF7k3ymT2dc/s400/IMG_4479.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497966672159072610" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >From the gondola on the way to the base of the mountain. </span></div><br />People often ask what I miss in Buenos Aires. While family and friends clearly top the list, the only tangible yearning I have is for the wide variety of food we take for granted in the US. The most glaring hole in Argentine cuisine could be summed as "anything spicy." I admit I could do a better job seeking out more ethnic joints, but I have tried the Indian food and it simply doesn´t measure up. Near the end of the week in Baroda, our hosts questioned whether we had gotten tired of Indian food. Hells no. I was <span style="font-style: italic;">aprovechando</span>. I never came across old my favorite mattar paneer, but what started with a dosa lunch on the first day continued throughout the week was pure heaven for me and my palate. I can´t begin to name all the dishes we had, but it was all fantastic. And I´m proud to report that my time in Argentina has not weakened my ability to take on the heat. Every runny nose was well worth it. Any prior concerns about food cleanliness or other digestive issues were irrelevant for me (though my friend Madison battled through a nasty case of the Delhi Belly on our last day).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-QkfGYA9aJ2H8pjeNtD_8955Ad_4CMyyE-YrY7rjZWQvIRfIwSSl7k9qRwtvguKv3X0_bjihvP1TRS5aFMRsgiqtxZZnfQn4I_iOpbZ7jLDUksxmyNoY2A6ByatCcNMyjBMBvKXJ8fHT/s1600/IMG_4486.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-QkfGYA9aJ2H8pjeNtD_8955Ad_4CMyyE-YrY7rjZWQvIRfIwSSl7k9qRwtvguKv3X0_bjihvP1TRS5aFMRsgiqtxZZnfQn4I_iOpbZ7jLDUksxmyNoY2A6ByatCcNMyjBMBvKXJ8fHT/s400/IMG_4486.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497966667772059394" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >This pond was way up near the top of the mountain atop which sits the temple. Give it a click and you can see on that little staircase there are some people either washing clothes or at the very least going into the water. </span></div><br />While he suffered back at the hotel, the rest of us visited a temple dedicated to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kali" target="_blank">Kali</a>. This was an experience unlike any I´d had before. Atop a small mountain, the temple is relatively small and simple. Shoes are not allowed, and the entrance area is more crowded than a mosh pit, with people pressed up against one another. But there was not even a hint of pushing, and the throng moved peacefully in order. Most were carrying coconuts or other treats so the food can be blessed and then shared with family or coworkers.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBYG5ZP5vfQ9NVM478M1TysktyOB8QTvZDTg5-5-tBf6UrN1VO3zGcmmZw5m8rcxItasyJ6KIJ79BuFGeG7XnUn6yROMxQCMufdKE_VrNoGSAyVxIePnJ2lOPDzWKih9rUr4e1rP24QgU/s1600/IMG_4490.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBYG5ZP5vfQ9NVM478M1TysktyOB8QTvZDTg5-5-tBf6UrN1VO3zGcmmZw5m8rcxItasyJ6KIJ79BuFGeG7XnUn6yROMxQCMufdKE_VrNoGSAyVxIePnJ2lOPDzWKih9rUr4e1rP24QgU/s400/IMG_4490.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497966661044177266" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >OK, so I did get a cow picture. This was in the area surrounding the temple. She was all dressed up with nowhere to go. I'm not sure I was supposed to be snapping this photo without a donation, but there was nobody nearby and I had no local currency on me. </span></div><br />There were various obvious rituals, but I was unsure if it was more insulting for me to foolishly participate in them or to ignore them as a curious tourist. My friend Stephane and I split the difference, doing our best to go through the motions without drawing too much attention to ourselves. But that didn´t stop us from receiving funny looks. Many locals eyed us with curious stares. This wasn´t the Taj Mahal, so nobody was expecting our kind. Our hosts told us later that it was likely that outside of movies and TV, many of the people visiting Kali's temple had never seen a white person. I found the attention, well, cool. A few of the bolder ones asked us where we were from. The answer of “France, Germany, England, and the United States (by way of Argentina)” did nothing to quell the curiosity.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWHcEtNgx2IeWY4igoNFDDOS3GTvuwxcRpXhZXw7Yk2YuWz2s-h5HqFWCXN2e6JYWe2FN4xJ2IhsLIPD1QvqQHsf1I0RBs-WVfMH35c0mPo8KYmo9YAca8OHGmPqZPk583AhSsZVzgxecX/s1600/DSC_01551.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWHcEtNgx2IeWY4igoNFDDOS3GTvuwxcRpXhZXw7Yk2YuWz2s-h5HqFWCXN2e6JYWe2FN4xJ2IhsLIPD1QvqQHsf1I0RBs-WVfMH35c0mPo8KYmo9YAca8OHGmPqZPk583AhSsZVzgxecX/s400/DSC_01551.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495393399243125090" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >An American, an Englishman, a Frenchman, an Indian and a German walk into Kali's temple... Oh, you've heard that one already? </span></div><br />That day at the temple is what I will take away most from this journey (well, that and a heckuva lot of frequent flyer miles). There was a certain tranquility to the people we encountered, a tranquility that matches my professional experiences with the Baroda team as well. How the crowd of people that felt so comfortable pressed against each other is something I won´t soon forget. I know there´s a lot I can learn from them. To journey from BA-to-Chicago-to-BA-to-London-to-India and only have one day to explore is really a shame. But since I have a visa, it just means that I get to come back again. My taste buds only one small part of me that is eagerly looking forward to it. I saddled up for the 40+hour trip back to Buenos Aires with no doubt that all the hassle was worth it.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > </span><br />Also: look! monkeys!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9wy4CRHcCplipUqz1_U-WaWW6EMy9Op9pvKx7KCkabW9fj2_BTLfbd47zhwOQ1QSRM1VBwSO7AY9yhdOkEMAfQ6erWM_pHynD5FguEa8eXurJxFVvmp8Dc51LIRq7iiqBwXXgtfDU1B-G/s1600/IMG_4471.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9wy4CRHcCplipUqz1_U-WaWW6EMy9Op9pvKx7KCkabW9fj2_BTLfbd47zhwOQ1QSRM1VBwSO7AY9yhdOkEMAfQ6erWM_pHynD5FguEa8eXurJxFVvmp8Dc51LIRq7iiqBwXXgtfDU1B-G/s400/IMG_4471.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497978853060838850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ75EFupKeoJv3HPVUIrsJp7V-xNQX9_LsyZqcQ2r6JkniMK8uaqEkpl00miFIuQDX9GQEgEMXR7y2zvFSqoJY2ptv7FPUOTIx9pQQ2HgN8hpwQF_GZ-cgbZgdqCDnFAQ0acyuZxqpNFcX/s1600/IMG_4472.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ75EFupKeoJv3HPVUIrsJp7V-xNQX9_LsyZqcQ2r6JkniMK8uaqEkpl00miFIuQDX9GQEgEMXR7y2zvFSqoJY2ptv7FPUOTIx9pQQ2HgN8hpwQF_GZ-cgbZgdqCDnFAQ0acyuZxqpNFcX/s400/IMG_4472.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497978847429562658" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrdy0AtVD-WomzjpdXVMGfQcV7nT238-h39Pf957pxLfSIM6pBA7wfivtuUGa9Ept_McDG1iWLbxPNfrzEm90D1ve4uTqzAhXvs9qHOey9ZIepMU1RuA9ll1iHBiV8Cll1o4uPG8CklL2p/s1600/IMG_4475.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrdy0AtVD-WomzjpdXVMGfQcV7nT238-h39Pf957pxLfSIM6pBA7wfivtuUGa9Ept_McDG1iWLbxPNfrzEm90D1ve4uTqzAhXvs9qHOey9ZIepMU1RuA9ll1iHBiV8Cll1o4uPG8CklL2p/s400/IMG_4475.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497966681163522530" border="0" /></a><br />Other writing from February:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/02/to-b-back-and-forth-review-avatar-part.html">A to B Back and Forth: Avatar</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/02/oscar-nominations-focus-on-foreigners.html">Best Foreign Oscar Predictions</a> (I was right!)<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/02/top-50-albums-of-00s-33-bad-religion.html">Top 50 Albums #33 - Bad Religion - The New America</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/02/yes-terminator-has-officially-died.html">Death of a Terminator</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/02/top-50-albums-of-00s-32-juno-future.html">Top 50 Albums #32 - Juno - A Future Lived in Past Tense</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/02/to-b-back-and-forth-review-sherlock.html">A to B Back and Forth: Sherlock Holmes</a>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-69002693656820570592010-07-25T18:48:00.002-03:002010-07-25T18:51:37.256-03:00What's for dinner?This is <span style="font-style:italic;">everyone's</span> current favorite ad here in Argentina. I thought I would share it with you because it's just too to be missed.<br /><br />For those who don't speak <span style="font-style:italic;">Castellano</span>, here's the primer:<br /><br />"Hoy hice arroz" = Today I made rice<br />"Lo hice para vos" = I made it for you<br /><br />Enjoy responsibly!<br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/njhrJCOCpEc&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/njhrJCOCpEc&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-91237341686279856932010-06-24T20:34:00.002-03:002010-06-25T00:06:46.719-03:00Catching Up: January, Part II<div><script type="text/javascript">var addthis_pub="fishbone97";</script><span style="font-style: italic;">As I am sure you are now accustomed, I'm going with mainly photographs for the time being. I promise, though, that February will have more words than pictures. Well, I dunno. Maybe you like the pictures better.</span><br /><br />When we last left our heroes, they were <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/06/catching-up-january-part-i.html">traipsing across glaciers in the Patagonia</a>. From there, we headed even further south, to Tierra del Fuego. Our home base for the last three days of the trip was the town of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ushuaia" target="_blank">Ushuaia</a>, the southernmost city in the world. Once again, click on any photo to embiggen. Here's what happened!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiwFUSOAjMl5AxaBTKXE9QyZfS14vYn2gd1pBz-JV3QX6MAzipearTrtPvXnkFawW6xkExHE7Y5Z-IjVuInR-D3wdu644oofo5r5QP0q3UmSQS1QIlINh0wC5SZ_spkZd_E-ClSkqmsfm/s1600/a.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiwFUSOAjMl5AxaBTKXE9QyZfS14vYn2gd1pBz-JV3QX6MAzipearTrtPvXnkFawW6xkExHE7Y5Z-IjVuInR-D3wdu644oofo5r5QP0q3UmSQS1QIlINh0wC5SZ_spkZd_E-ClSkqmsfm/s400/a.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486131587068272258" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Old school photoshop. Just kidding. This was taken at the jail in Ushuaia. Originally there were nothing but natives, but the white folk, smallpox, and measles made quick work of that. Of course, given the harsh winter, nobody wanted to settle here, so the government decided the best thing would be to build a prison. Repeat offenders and harsh criminals were sent here. More importantly, people arrived to work at the prison, which built up the town at the southern end of the country.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSofz1ZFwiv6UCICGxeoZAVZO4axDvsUhj0nuiGClfBRhNLdrtHRUqTaqDMKNhpi_hOBOb9WD18tHBkZA9zdA30JRGNfXuIWOtHr0te3BHRvHRZQrCGCn4y9u5DjbXct6HoUkguAUQwwVB/s1600/b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSofz1ZFwiv6UCICGxeoZAVZO4axDvsUhj0nuiGClfBRhNLdrtHRUqTaqDMKNhpi_hOBOb9WD18tHBkZA9zdA30JRGNfXuIWOtHr0te3BHRvHRZQrCGCn4y9u5DjbXct6HoUkguAUQwwVB/s400/b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486131583761632178" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">We took the "Train at the end of the world," which had some nice sights along the way, but mostly got us from here to there. This picture was taken at the only (brief) stop along the way. Incidentally, the prisoners were the ones who built the railroad to begin with, often times in extremely harsh winter conditions.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pke5crYlAiV_9vWCAHO8x8JdNc49cjBcOWjcIjkBt9lW2d0_Cc7CWZnJooatSVFOMgJ22W3m3Se_skXsnUcnfGTOhaB914bEo-FgkvjzQUvEal94NrWY6MEd4NRaF2OlwMA_OXDRfqHE/s1600/c.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pke5crYlAiV_9vWCAHO8x8JdNc49cjBcOWjcIjkBt9lW2d0_Cc7CWZnJooatSVFOMgJ22W3m3Se_skXsnUcnfGTOhaB914bEo-FgkvjzQUvEal94NrWY6MEd4NRaF2OlwMA_OXDRfqHE/s400/c.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486131577311400674" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Wild Horses at the End of the World</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0EWnj9QG7tskeQwAJlbRcmU6b-DiFO0xSq8RUjkoZc6PKfiBg7jkVRNy3fd1tpdYz9MW7XnkEvXK6b4AHwlor_1-5bG1Y5plQBGfZ_g9zXzMGXzhcbVX6KOtc6W2qzSPDY-6OkmbCUPkS/s1600/d.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0EWnj9QG7tskeQwAJlbRcmU6b-DiFO0xSq8RUjkoZc6PKfiBg7jkVRNy3fd1tpdYz9MW7XnkEvXK6b4AHwlor_1-5bG1Y5plQBGfZ_g9zXzMGXzhcbVX6KOtc6W2qzSPDY-6OkmbCUPkS/s400/d.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486131570651431842" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The entire area is surrounded by the end of the Andes. This is the only part of Argentina on the other side of the mountain range. That led to spectacular views like this one.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN11CFxLEZROu0Iys9Li0n7tvCvnRFvf2LA7SkWgt8YFdy_8jAfcnEj_89ucEcTZwHssrOoSbJbP-sgtd2U-BpJkNtGcfpGxj3eF-vB0fIsqUNfJ-QzdufFfMdXb9-hWjGqZ58zs7gqzId/s1600/e1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN11CFxLEZROu0Iys9Li0n7tvCvnRFvf2LA7SkWgt8YFdy_8jAfcnEj_89ucEcTZwHssrOoSbJbP-sgtd2U-BpJkNtGcfpGxj3eF-vB0fIsqUNfJ-QzdufFfMdXb9-hWjGqZ58zs7gqzId/s400/e1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486129891480243378" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span>Pan de Indio</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> - literally translates to Indian Bread because the natives used to eat it. It's a fungus that attacks trees. The forest was loaded with them. Every few minutes we heard a "thunk", as another </span><span>Pan de Indio</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> fell from its perch. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, we tasted them. My two word summary of the flavor: malty watery.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwwUTDjOFRdqeaNDWaBIVxfpBjoawaGqtUwMS2hVluhPiU21miOHxO56WTJNZfLvoM9edQv5IyeJG0dbY_rosp80XLkvAPGWU3jvhLsLYj6ECf3p1VnT1RqFhTBiJSaDdf3ovbEkZGMft/s1600/f.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwwUTDjOFRdqeaNDWaBIVxfpBjoawaGqtUwMS2hVluhPiU21miOHxO56WTJNZfLvoM9edQv5IyeJG0dbY_rosp80XLkvAPGWU3jvhLsLYj6ECf3p1VnT1RqFhTBiJSaDdf3ovbEkZGMft/s400/f.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486129885196167890" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Andrew and Belu at the End of the World!</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyDBNcIcBJ1OuXtZdwLcstPXBF1er2ZFDCosra011WV-Rtm0n9Z8Iczk7z9HXvyP2GACOPQnGD2l2cFMDIGGQd4dwweUb8aCN4WvdDSdHnv0sPxgSK83KIkKwi-4M7NfZkzRrxFRUvLWw/s1600/g.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyDBNcIcBJ1OuXtZdwLcstPXBF1er2ZFDCosra011WV-Rtm0n9Z8Iczk7z9HXvyP2GACOPQnGD2l2cFMDIGGQd4dwweUb8aCN4WvdDSdHnv0sPxgSK83KIkKwi-4M7NfZkzRrxFRUvLWw/s400/g.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486129881863035954" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The stream at the End of the World!</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFq0DIeLw07RUOITeh6i_7MiVmVhjzJXBDH2DPSwEqJKZ9_QbbT6XVZ0hw5yAY72dVtq2xbpkG3s-3RBJhGF9cKlYDrYszEBXYF_fXsSvBc7vOpW1yRSUSf-MLVozUd88WPm_YsRVjTYdY/s1600/h.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 61px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFq0DIeLw07RUOITeh6i_7MiVmVhjzJXBDH2DPSwEqJKZ9_QbbT6XVZ0hw5yAY72dVtq2xbpkG3s-3RBJhGF9cKlYDrYszEBXYF_fXsSvBc7vOpW1yRSUSf-MLVozUd88WPm_YsRVjTYdY/s400/h.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486129875031731762" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The entire city of Ushuaia. I know it's hard to see. Click to make it bigger. This would be an amazing place to live.* Just so peaceful and picturesque. (*only in the summer because in winter it would just be dark and cold all the time)<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMO0HoWK5z9g4RV-4XPYNMeaveb-oVF_1P3PMPnqN_J_hpqK2mmmUL0Vum_mRsx70CFBoY_AIE5EMhrpYso7bi_i_RKpAWnxZ9sP711JuWtclFOGI0N1C2oiOl2dgzAIwABqEeTa7lBM8F/s1600/ha.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMO0HoWK5z9g4RV-4XPYNMeaveb-oVF_1P3PMPnqN_J_hpqK2mmmUL0Vum_mRsx70CFBoY_AIE5EMhrpYso7bi_i_RKpAWnxZ9sP711JuWtclFOGI0N1C2oiOl2dgzAIwABqEeTa7lBM8F/s400/ha.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486129864450344098" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">We ate loads of fresh crab. Heavenly.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BZE6mQiZbnDkLW5iWaoeuTXYQ6LIDBkzky7YmS-xu5jKYXAmYaDemj0wz6gVZLm8pL8C3xHt4S-JbiXUcXEVIorxSDaFdnwmJ-ClphXvsk7RJq8DOsY9vmyRnEkuqPpPHQreiUB6p0kJ/s1600/hb.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BZE6mQiZbnDkLW5iWaoeuTXYQ6LIDBkzky7YmS-xu5jKYXAmYaDemj0wz6gVZLm8pL8C3xHt4S-JbiXUcXEVIorxSDaFdnwmJ-ClphXvsk7RJq8DOsY9vmyRnEkuqPpPHQreiUB6p0kJ/s400/hb.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486128025011314130" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Then we played with our food.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzjltrJ-2nJEcrWJhHOvE6FOhS1uhTlWIcD-uzJc0ssAUYbepdgasRQvkv85PO_UwEY9swWzMCbQqLXHwU67-oArSsWgOSvS-QF_ivrg_ZDskUgA2RqxwuE-pMG_s25xy_96pzeHBhzboC/s1600/i.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzjltrJ-2nJEcrWJhHOvE6FOhS1uhTlWIcD-uzJc0ssAUYbepdgasRQvkv85PO_UwEY9swWzMCbQqLXHwU67-oArSsWgOSvS-QF_ivrg_ZDskUgA2RqxwuE-pMG_s25xy_96pzeHBhzboC/s400/i.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486128017199412066" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">You can't tell by the picture, but these sea lions are hanging out on a big rock way out in the middle of the Beagle Channel.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFBGCjk97XMD61qtpUfpmL4ys7rsmZAjrwF20R1XmiSTy6KochRK04V6s9IcF0gWxH-0eAnL-3bKgkDLhUS1Acs-JdAojpN-AjD0v8F-Kd2SKelLwZINfT3pdZY5CWRUE1ZK80N64hM18/s1600/j.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFBGCjk97XMD61qtpUfpmL4ys7rsmZAjrwF20R1XmiSTy6KochRK04V6s9IcF0gWxH-0eAnL-3bKgkDLhUS1Acs-JdAojpN-AjD0v8F-Kd2SKelLwZINfT3pdZY5CWRUE1ZK80N64hM18/s400/j.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486128013918442898" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I think I took about 23 pictures of Les Eclaireurs Lighthouse. This is the one you get to see.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCOnNsjVxnSU1aHAI2OGY-1q0Httx_ObuZHkZvAwFMapT1tIo6ga6pyjkAbVfN95Xcv0n2VDzjPFWIQnpT5iEK5zV45ihwX_ifSyNwnqqgyDgw-yuqhLG_5dGVDv-AJFwJK3FrA5DSHpb/s1600/k1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCOnNsjVxnSU1aHAI2OGY-1q0Httx_ObuZHkZvAwFMapT1tIo6ga6pyjkAbVfN95Xcv0n2VDzjPFWIQnpT5iEK5zV45ihwX_ifSyNwnqqgyDgw-yuqhLG_5dGVDv-AJFwJK3FrA5DSHpb/s400/k1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486140408131422306" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Birds at the end of the world!</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlWAir_QPeYk8nPypHe2lFvbOOk7Z0f_jUofbteBDrM4MHksc7U9bdTeoQ2VDnWgcXrMfLMyeBjJiug_cfeu0qQq__LH4OrLBLk1nVRXX1vSx5mTR8mpngzz28jRts73w9IkfP5qZLn6o/s1600/l.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlWAir_QPeYk8nPypHe2lFvbOOk7Z0f_jUofbteBDrM4MHksc7U9bdTeoQ2VDnWgcXrMfLMyeBjJiug_cfeu0qQq__LH4OrLBLk1nVRXX1vSx5mTR8mpngzz28jRts73w9IkfP5qZLn6o/s400/l.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486127994487570098" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I promised you penguins...</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF8TsSkoF8428uCRxlVSrUh5O-tz9zeoR2O27C79Yy0YFLxRPczBbcpwbxHhr2SIzpjxXpnIlP-Loz1y0Fx2jMS4q6DGMl4bA9aXERZ8zOl09qwqshMqeB0EiTJrswIdWKjo_-8JT-htzx/s1600/m.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF8TsSkoF8428uCRxlVSrUh5O-tz9zeoR2O27C79Yy0YFLxRPczBbcpwbxHhr2SIzpjxXpnIlP-Loz1y0Fx2jMS4q6DGMl4bA9aXERZ8zOl09qwqshMqeB0EiTJrswIdWKjo_-8JT-htzx/s400/m.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486125308363040034" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">...and so penguins you have! Unfortunately, we didn't book the tour where you can get off the boat and walk around with them. We're not sure if that's even legal, but some lucky tourists got the up-close-and-personal view.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRztljpnZ2hhmw1qdX3eGtox2p02sGWBVyoiDXS1SFmI97IEV5H28YGKf7pbAn7bqj-xj_qEZPHE-Q6WBECINkAUxdPIWEBtFncH2OwcyFVyAs3PN4GivtzbScKlW7cy4YU-yF7s4352BR/s1600/n.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRztljpnZ2hhmw1qdX3eGtox2p02sGWBVyoiDXS1SFmI97IEV5H28YGKf7pbAn7bqj-xj_qEZPHE-Q6WBECINkAUxdPIWEBtFncH2OwcyFVyAs3PN4GivtzbScKlW7cy4YU-yF7s4352BR/s400/n.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486125299209250786" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Lago Escondido. Well named because it pretty much just appeared out of nowhere.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8OPdjTEST35ih1k1oTR_wIk4L8MtqAo0ezMhXpZP2juJ4N0dKDXz70ultkAuneAz7BWaw82qLTccnh707zaFt7WNO2GbilSylx9fRNsb9uSd78_g0CDMUcaSArBw_H4jxv32ZYlGmVHn/s1600/o.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8OPdjTEST35ih1k1oTR_wIk4L8MtqAo0ezMhXpZP2juJ4N0dKDXz70ultkAuneAz7BWaw82qLTccnh707zaFt7WNO2GbilSylx9fRNsb9uSd78_g0CDMUcaSArBw_H4jxv32ZYlGmVHn/s400/o.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486125292471392658" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">An older couple on their dream vacation...</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUlsc8wBZkETTP2bsBQ3c8MPxg7iLXO3gVnKhrPr19FDCHUifcjmtGQ1NAM2pJNttFy5h2gKRIUgp4WjT8mzwzCP_4sfuuR9yO8yT_RE59r6lKKPXXA4SpOQO2hrnpmSg7Tv64opOCMZT/s1600/p.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUlsc8wBZkETTP2bsBQ3c8MPxg7iLXO3gVnKhrPr19FDCHUifcjmtGQ1NAM2pJNttFy5h2gKRIUgp4WjT8mzwzCP_4sfuuR9yO8yT_RE59r6lKKPXXA4SpOQO2hrnpmSg7Tv64opOCMZT/s400/p.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486125287407981266" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">...and a younger one with many more in their future.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivg6NTTXUw_1eTWm8qa01Ho5MuPcB3pMpV9US6HXZSGXrh172V792slaHlbvwL4fSKm_R_tnt3QSfbAMD9ULgFIoaYsJOmJ0iPkHxvq-BY2lUOhmyi_PlNnqG2egfmdDzvswW9NqfJ-Frp/s1600/q.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivg6NTTXUw_1eTWm8qa01Ho5MuPcB3pMpV9US6HXZSGXrh172V792slaHlbvwL4fSKm_R_tnt3QSfbAMD9ULgFIoaYsJOmJ0iPkHxvq-BY2lUOhmyi_PlNnqG2egfmdDzvswW9NqfJ-Frp/s400/q.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486125283129695634" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Belu shows off the latest in trans-lago fashion.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxIXDTCw286oSMd3wKRB09vyj6YrKdek1xtQF8F1zAe5K5STilQEtH2gI8l8ABbQIXe18DrvoIPyx26LWtZPIaBhY1hZ3FfNo8B8vRtU1Q1MXrbS3fK4mWBf5OG4GqzYsPOtzrhYFB6JN/s1600/r.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxIXDTCw286oSMd3wKRB09vyj6YrKdek1xtQF8F1zAe5K5STilQEtH2gI8l8ABbQIXe18DrvoIPyx26LWtZPIaBhY1hZ3FfNo8B8vRtU1Q1MXrbS3fK4mWBf5OG4GqzYsPOtzrhYFB6JN/s400/r.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486122909671456322" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Natalia shows off... well, it's basically the same concept.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXZ3us2XZx587RXk8MdsXYZZlVaoDZul3DgvQnHrjbwQc3ryxUcXERHlxo_dm57Bihz0X_yj249CtyYwyWNJsEllTek3Qjf3WStBFkVzdeB-v_11XiJ6ZFhnjdHstFJqY7E2o5NszBn4v/s1600/s.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXZ3us2XZx587RXk8MdsXYZZlVaoDZul3DgvQnHrjbwQc3ryxUcXERHlxo_dm57Bihz0X_yj249CtyYwyWNJsEllTek3Qjf3WStBFkVzdeB-v_11XiJ6ZFhnjdHstFJqY7E2o5NszBn4v/s400/s.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486122899072507938" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">...which leaves Brad at a loss for creativity.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7-nQMK1y7Rx39QstCI9sZFKfJ8td4iZyNxQHMBxte_PQP_t751aty9R07AgJ9yWl_SruJtjj43OB0JhR7wNeJxX3gy68Z2RDy_yT0Xh5eCc0oM0-Fc3emQx01QRPJWciFcM8tbGsAaVp/s1600/t.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7-nQMK1y7Rx39QstCI9sZFKfJ8td4iZyNxQHMBxte_PQP_t751aty9R07AgJ9yWl_SruJtjj43OB0JhR7wNeJxX3gy68Z2RDy_yT0Xh5eCc0oM0-Fc3emQx01QRPJWciFcM8tbGsAaVp/s400/t.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486122892055163154" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Note the Austrians on the left. They made fine companions.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj615vUDEyGmxxzEZHYzdKoyQo8YNE8QXtwlyjO-Yqy1ZDh3lxqqGvC4XfSaZ-6RjNrlzX9j0TxaocOWYk3QS8fYLK1_sA2LGjDuqa6ivFu09-WO6-hAMF5BUHWxlDXoOoj-uXdFtLw5Ua9/s1600/u.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj615vUDEyGmxxzEZHYzdKoyQo8YNE8QXtwlyjO-Yqy1ZDh3lxqqGvC4XfSaZ-6RjNrlzX9j0TxaocOWYk3QS8fYLK1_sA2LGjDuqa6ivFu09-WO6-hAMF5BUHWxlDXoOoj-uXdFtLw5Ua9/s400/u.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486122887260681138" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">What are these people laughing at?<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0EJN2rg01ymSwvt8okJjz31A97WLMXqPRqmNoRBPkEVBX2ty3O6zv5fo9VtQ0vk1bcqB8s7b15eORUiT5bmzIUAAIrx0C1TlBJyffPFYf9g3AdAfwNh9H-wr9e7otgLeJg7nR7-xI5YI/s1600/v.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0EJN2rg01ymSwvt8okJjz31A97WLMXqPRqmNoRBPkEVBX2ty3O6zv5fo9VtQ0vk1bcqB8s7b15eORUiT5bmzIUAAIrx0C1TlBJyffPFYf9g3AdAfwNh9H-wr9e7otgLeJg7nR7-xI5YI/s400/v.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486122882515672962" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">This guy! A crazy dog who repeatedly jumped into the lake before returning to shed water on all nearby. We named him Blackie because we weren't feeling creative. But he was hilarious.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg3R9I8GIdc15a7kj7eoSRDQJdkXu0rclg2zzja6BVtjTAd0IN4hw3SINrYOxtiUCio_WER9_IECw6FAhXXZPqsHnMStb2ORCfaFN3fSMVAcTbonKQ7mbRN9_sAexPoIThXVXbbX1O4A8/s1600/va.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg3R9I8GIdc15a7kj7eoSRDQJdkXu0rclg2zzja6BVtjTAd0IN4hw3SINrYOxtiUCio_WER9_IECw6FAhXXZPqsHnMStb2ORCfaFN3fSMVAcTbonKQ7mbRN9_sAexPoIThXVXbbX1O4A8/s400/va.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486119944477584530" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">On board with Luciana, our fantastic tour guide. After taking this outboard across the lake, we hiked through the woods, saw a beaver dam (but no damn beavers). The next phase was canoeing on Lago Escondido. That would have been a blast except it rained the entire time - hard. But it made the asado that followed all the more fulfilling.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmnXSytXY_ufI5lwkBnSkHX_cf_-V3L2QEO89U0U52wksVTol51YWi1vPKUAyUgh8B4pKvzrxlnelX5mVGKT95cOQ8lbXqjnhAOPGPwXm1VnVm61UNfkcVdFLrlHmrWUQnWXu0ZjdWOR5/s1600/w.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmnXSytXY_ufI5lwkBnSkHX_cf_-V3L2QEO89U0U52wksVTol51YWi1vPKUAyUgh8B4pKvzrxlnelX5mVGKT95cOQ8lbXqjnhAOPGPwXm1VnVm61UNfkcVdFLrlHmrWUQnWXu0ZjdWOR5/s400/w.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486119936895403458" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">We finished up the tour at the serene Lago Fagnano.<br /></span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlP0kpjVAKy_sAcdAlNKsBUTahrezQ-_nSJWKzkg1r9c2mqnYxC8ZA8cN3vh42R9Y6UCaWIn_yWX4BPkPIHkKLJF09Aowq5o_dZ0WM-35VmA8uZ0R4h9rgwXdtJPqZl0Ar7UNE5Vo5ctyG/s1600/x.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlP0kpjVAKy_sAcdAlNKsBUTahrezQ-_nSJWKzkg1r9c2mqnYxC8ZA8cN3vh42R9Y6UCaWIn_yWX4BPkPIHkKLJF09Aowq5o_dZ0WM-35VmA8uZ0R4h9rgwXdtJPqZl0Ar7UNE5Vo5ctyG/s400/x.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486119929352891522" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Across the lake, you can see Chile (which boasts the southernmost village in the world, but don't tell the Argentines that!).</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rAkWPs0VSuMPfqadGSJUDcFB3ixuSIQeTywi39cF-k-bAneY6-S8JGqjVvApSnWBUxrkroOtzEOQzZaaVklVYo_paJ_mwbKmi0SI2ysBiYvhhfcH_UZ-NjFbQ5KtaYFxdbmQ8ba19ex9/s1600/zz.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rAkWPs0VSuMPfqadGSJUDcFB3ixuSIQeTywi39cF-k-bAneY6-S8JGqjVvApSnWBUxrkroOtzEOQzZaaVklVYo_paJ_mwbKmi0SI2ysBiYvhhfcH_UZ-NjFbQ5KtaYFxdbmQ8ba19ex9/s400/zz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486119921623099650" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">No, we didn't leave Ushuaia this way, but wouldn't it have been cool if we did?</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-G-AK-4nKEe0Av_W10nlxj3zbpoj5qCZ1iyak8BMYGukpIolaFE10mSTndNdZ3FvcSKDvHu7u3OqA0uW6AtebOaZU4U_2wFQRJd9JH9kIErYdDpgRZ7ZhGjh3L9ppNRBEal2_It2QrEd6/s1600/zzz.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-G-AK-4nKEe0Av_W10nlxj3zbpoj5qCZ1iyak8BMYGukpIolaFE10mSTndNdZ3FvcSKDvHu7u3OqA0uW6AtebOaZU4U_2wFQRJd9JH9kIErYdDpgRZ7ZhGjh3L9ppNRBEal2_It2QrEd6/s400/zzz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486119916129961170" border="0" /></a><br />I don't think I've given enough words to the sublime town of Ushuaia. While El Calafate boasted natural wonder, this was a place where you really wanted to <span style="font-style: italic;">be</span>. Sure, there were still plenty of people looking to take money from the tourists, but you can see that there is a real town with real life here. I don't know if I'll return to El Calafate. Someone will probably want to see the glaciers, definitely a sight to behold. So I'll surely go along. But if I were to pick a summer home in the south of Argentina, there's no question that Ushuaia is the clear front-runner. Of course, I still have to check out Bariloche and Rio Negro and probably sixteen other places. Good thing this country is so wonderfully huge.<br /><br /><a name="data:post.title" id="data:post.url" onmouseover="'return" onmouseout="addthis_close()" onclick="return addthis_sendto()"><img src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/lg-share-en.gif" alt="" style="border: 0pt none;" width="125" border="0" height="16" /></a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/152/addthis_widget.js"></script></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-8683583042811283342010-06-20T12:46:00.002-03:002010-06-20T14:08:09.738-03:00Catching Up: January, Part I<div><script type="text/javascript">var addthis_pub="fishbone97";</script>Just like <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/05/catching-up-december.html">last month's update</a>, we're going with mostly pictures on this one. Also just like last month's update, Brad and Natalia were along for all the rides, but luckily Belu was able to escape the city with us, too. We sent ourselves down south to The Patagonia. Today's photos are all from El Calafate, where one can find various glaciers well worth one's time. Once again, click on any picture to embiggen. Check it on out!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqcBEyspfP1PZU87x3OX2zIFL1v2paI4u2MkkErmRY9Q7up-ur7ZI6bx_4vApHoSOaVrecxgfNbyfg18bdjYY78w1D1a6Vcg2DzTHUJkd0Fvlbcgq0N_itjwqyXJmMqTPuXj0Tpe93_aB/s1600/a.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqcBEyspfP1PZU87x3OX2zIFL1v2paI4u2MkkErmRY9Q7up-ur7ZI6bx_4vApHoSOaVrecxgfNbyfg18bdjYY78w1D1a6Vcg2DzTHUJkd0Fvlbcgq0N_itjwqyXJmMqTPuXj0Tpe93_aB/s400/a.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482382979571938002" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The view from outside our hotel. This is Lago Argentino, the largest lake in the country. It may not look big, but it's got fingers and inlets all over the place.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO39Ke__aYgF4vKz8deamSMbzc7O976cbURcbbtXiWvWyF_Yu31Ru1EGeKjWkyZvquqZEfD586e10qycgD8bOWqrV10osR4ikOypiYDySEu17vpwiRF9-DKGdPgROjWdf1jXpwFCVqftCq/s1600/b.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO39Ke__aYgF4vKz8deamSMbzc7O976cbURcbbtXiWvWyF_Yu31Ru1EGeKjWkyZvquqZEfD586e10qycgD8bOWqrV10osR4ikOypiYDySEu17vpwiRF9-DKGdPgROjWdf1jXpwFCVqftCq/s400/b.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482382969027321858" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The glacier Perito Moreno. It is 94 square miles of ice. Photos cannot display how impressive this was. Look at how small the people on the balcony are.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNiS4IKTTi81PWSSjUxelxPi3JPpYBKB4Q76-HIHsnTsUawgy7oEOBeZjH3PQdhugUQE-u4qiDs51eprj45sVncTAlcgPaFrJUW21Jz4RK1JBaTA6abC7qdGduRFk8rXqhWfj6E55kqXq/s1600/c.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNiS4IKTTi81PWSSjUxelxPi3JPpYBKB4Q76-HIHsnTsUawgy7oEOBeZjH3PQdhugUQE-u4qiDs51eprj45sVncTAlcgPaFrJUW21Jz4RK1JBaTA6abC7qdGduRFk8rXqhWfj6E55kqXq/s400/c.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482380830917671122" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">More Moreno. Note that the boat you see is pretty darn big.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTkWa71It_5esw0csYWTaLNxMAOv0w2vzK2xCWJz74bRe4pvha7YxAAzfL2Rg7FaRx5o2B6-2jh7ZS_bRk6CNbqVsEgR0Mt0pHeMfYS63azJ_o2ScItmciNfzblrTkOS1tYcBq3gWQs7C/s1600/d.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTkWa71It_5esw0csYWTaLNxMAOv0w2vzK2xCWJz74bRe4pvha7YxAAzfL2Rg7FaRx5o2B6-2jh7ZS_bRk6CNbqVsEgR0Mt0pHeMfYS63azJ_o2ScItmciNfzblrTkOS1tYcBq3gWQs7C/s400/d.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482380819447129714" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The fearsome foursome! That may be a whole lot of ice, but it's summertime and we're not cold.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjy8jezr8mx8uH39u5WmjtZFobQpbZf2B9Pah_b2uRY9M-QQv8u5cuUznoNWB88bZK_BUHaIrlk7-3gXLMkaOGTf-fgzWbiJv4jH8o5AeHCV9Cl0-nZzseStNRfsi4up5rgQWRUTZOc2o/s1600/e.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjy8jezr8mx8uH39u5WmjtZFobQpbZf2B9Pah_b2uRY9M-QQv8u5cuUznoNWB88bZK_BUHaIrlk7-3gXLMkaOGTf-fgzWbiJv4jH8o5AeHCV9Cl0-nZzseStNRfsi4up5rgQWRUTZOc2o/s400/e.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482380808136467298" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">This one deserves a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjy8jezr8mx8uH39u5WmjtZFobQpbZf2B9Pah_b2uRY9M-QQv8u5cuUznoNWB88bZK_BUHaIrlk7-3gXLMkaOGTf-fgzWbiJv4jH8o5AeHCV9Cl0-nZzseStNRfsi4up5rgQWRUTZOc2o/s1600/e.JPG" target="_blank">click</a></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNS4nBkE4q7jEvjiQrD9RTcvKsaKuPdEwTLZJoEahtwquAmloBRbiMmMuaGhjoKfHs4AEIpK1ygbWwCvh2gHOpw5jSDHlzjJcyx-f_Rnm-t2flUeETaK3tCtNT2uTT6eCSqVjAznxm40s/s1600/f.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNS4nBkE4q7jEvjiQrD9RTcvKsaKuPdEwTLZJoEahtwquAmloBRbiMmMuaGhjoKfHs4AEIpK1ygbWwCvh2gHOpw5jSDHlzjJcyx-f_Rnm-t2flUeETaK3tCtNT2uTT6eCSqVjAznxm40s/s400/f.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482380800446809218" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Belu is excited to get her crampon on...</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50Mcwu9HUVTq17Pn6nxE1ILOxeKAWyezZsnJyLY_EeLnqTeoSWhBGkNINPill5QjkneDyW49ScZybm_cEF3e70qLhrVuUwxxfkR37nWflcBYQPVwMmcgRCIuxrHlL0HbQcBPANw5iW00z/s1600/g.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50Mcwu9HUVTq17Pn6nxE1ILOxeKAWyezZsnJyLY_EeLnqTeoSWhBGkNINPill5QjkneDyW49ScZybm_cEF3e70qLhrVuUwxxfkR37nWflcBYQPVwMmcgRCIuxrHlL0HbQcBPANw5iW00z/s400/g.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482380791888956946" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">...while I'm apparently nervous.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YXCP52mEfDdppu2DAyvMhFhizh7b0LOtfxglX2tqk8YTu5oRX4tffKkNMedt7aMl17DT9AuhvxkM8QQXx4dbqo47Hk14OmD5K-6tGo6KmyFqWJyXHHOVKgdqQSx3KqYiySTPwhR4VULA/s1600/h.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YXCP52mEfDdppu2DAyvMhFhizh7b0LOtfxglX2tqk8YTu5oRX4tffKkNMedt7aMl17DT9AuhvxkM8QQXx4dbqo47Hk14OmD5K-6tGo6KmyFqWJyXHHOVKgdqQSx3KqYiySTPwhR4VULA/s400/h.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482378360852212546" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Since we were wearing crampons, we figured we would follow these people and hike on top of the ice.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznPeqI4_q8jwtUu5_OTogwLAQcWnPIW2ACP0naGDUFdr2T3ioDr_4RVUj693WwXlWI5bWePWtND6hY_GwoOtjCe3rjYkK0ndboplvcL_pptX2cTwUF3gvggYNb4oCsK_dKQ2L2gQvmxWU/s1600/i.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznPeqI4_q8jwtUu5_OTogwLAQcWnPIW2ACP0naGDUFdr2T3ioDr_4RVUj693WwXlWI5bWePWtND6hY_GwoOtjCe3rjYkK0ndboplvcL_pptX2cTwUF3gvggYNb4oCsK_dKQ2L2gQvmxWU/s400/i.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482378354344238178" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Brad and Natalia, ready for the climb.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41U1bZXFsJsdJlx5eH1rlT8wto1UGbCfICEURX8By_X1YSNgTKaWK8AiK16si13_Ntbd5oFP4rcsdtEvJpBtR_H88NQU_rgNjKv8zEmCuaUZgrPAhtcOJ7SHRJ_M_G8ZA5VVhav4dCzz9/s1600/ia.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41U1bZXFsJsdJlx5eH1rlT8wto1UGbCfICEURX8By_X1YSNgTKaWK8AiK16si13_Ntbd5oFP4rcsdtEvJpBtR_H88NQU_rgNjKv8zEmCuaUZgrPAhtcOJ7SHRJ_M_G8ZA5VVhav4dCzz9/s400/ia.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482378338086613298" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The crampons help keep your footing, but it's good to hang on to someone special, too.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpm-vvz33rpJkX-rMyZO9JQ-i-Cyeu0iR7fqvS74coFCBIoEXfDO5I3edvlOAHUyUskqgzLYgDLZUkoMDZc1KDDLovsThY7YNmLko5Njtyjacu8N8ejR7e22SRIwcEMpO4pxOTF9OYlu6/s1600/ib.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpm-vvz33rpJkX-rMyZO9JQ-i-Cyeu0iR7fqvS74coFCBIoEXfDO5I3edvlOAHUyUskqgzLYgDLZUkoMDZc1KDDLovsThY7YNmLko5Njtyjacu8N8ejR7e22SRIwcEMpO4pxOTF9OYlu6/s400/ib.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482378328673347650" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Brad crossing a small mound of ice.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Itz_1S4Db8ue73kRpJT057YIT5pEhKNYuHnEDCreZMOKP8Ffe7Zt32XE1tbKCk7AAIOZwqTnkpzz3uvCwiraYHektHAOIVbN8ZOgNNBBsTh0_0Arg2mMBhwpGKkqhZQZ0vjCYoVV7BnD/s1600/ic.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Itz_1S4Db8ue73kRpJT057YIT5pEhKNYuHnEDCreZMOKP8Ffe7Zt32XE1tbKCk7AAIOZwqTnkpzz3uvCwiraYHektHAOIVbN8ZOgNNBBsTh0_0Arg2mMBhwpGKkqhZQZ0vjCYoVV7BnD/s400/ic.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482378322465772354" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It was white everywhere, except for the blue patches where water was movin', and the black specks of earth that are trapped within the ice.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnDfB_1A2Ts8ICEgbrEVUYRQMeGODcSj_SaRlmRgYL9-NU8t0fWTCRuBxG9trzESs8X0e7gvAAx_pUSbwx6o-z2I__6DBQv45_pMriP-Ir2kbLrJgjJEsrhAkqznQAxLdEnPisi61p7Ll/s1600/id.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnDfB_1A2Ts8ICEgbrEVUYRQMeGODcSj_SaRlmRgYL9-NU8t0fWTCRuBxG9trzESs8X0e7gvAAx_pUSbwx6o-z2I__6DBQv45_pMriP-Ir2kbLrJgjJEsrhAkqznQAxLdEnPisi61p7Ll/s400/id.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482376449715130706" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We had ganas to climb this sucker, but they told us to stick with the guides.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwNGs3GBnJfJAOCq7pDoazLB85ctnjvU6GF7FKgT80sNegVP5uDENupnLu_kq1MexIr_fXmsSPtwY5Bfx5O5dv7DYIRfhmh5-rO8nKOkviN6K5Uif2uZut16IRGa22EY1JTPFnuJ4IwGq/s1600/ie.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwNGs3GBnJfJAOCq7pDoazLB85ctnjvU6GF7FKgT80sNegVP5uDENupnLu_kq1MexIr_fXmsSPtwY5Bfx5O5dv7DYIRfhmh5-rO8nKOkviN6K5Uif2uZut16IRGa22EY1JTPFnuJ4IwGq/s400/ie.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482376444274080386" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And after the hike was over? Some Famous Grouse with the world's freshest ice.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngHMmK-WlmeUF__wSxG818jP6XXYTOAFKLOCiYHg6998ktbI0FzQCXFKaiwv4zDghUj8kk4NpQ8Z3VdoXSLM8SQt1gwSoLbr28csbQswvRdEzVIFtJ-shjpFNq1s331pvI13BOVEiAs-o/s1600/if.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngHMmK-WlmeUF__wSxG818jP6XXYTOAFKLOCiYHg6998ktbI0FzQCXFKaiwv4zDghUj8kk4NpQ8Z3VdoXSLM8SQt1gwSoLbr28csbQswvRdEzVIFtJ-shjpFNq1s331pvI13BOVEiAs-o/s400/if.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482376434851822034" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">A few last moments to take it all in before we got back in the boat to head back to the hotel.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPab2q5DQlj23KZ_tJS5GZWvSNRG8Yd7S_8cz-9kHzAG2pNZaGpwWFaXz_HUeTUQ-AxVYw3afPEhFued5fYDa_KpsphSrPZ6NVXk3FEEzsej2zSA_bqp7MOSRLOvWRF6bZhybjx6jXK_1V/s1600/ig.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPab2q5DQlj23KZ_tJS5GZWvSNRG8Yd7S_8cz-9kHzAG2pNZaGpwWFaXz_HUeTUQ-AxVYw3afPEhFued5fYDa_KpsphSrPZ6NVXk3FEEzsej2zSA_bqp7MOSRLOvWRF6bZhybjx6jXK_1V/s400/ig.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482376433313099538" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The next day was a boat tour of the glaciers. Brad and I found some time to clown it up a bit.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0Ga7cZ3eJkW-EEBMzkYdTU5crs0UhGcnwiriScF50lQs0mC0EzdRZ663xfxZaURFWTSh_HtxG4BotbtsynmW8PpwdsYEJ2rsKTJc1mCu8fq8S4xoCxhFqY88XVIbnphgX-6cQGylbta0/s1600/iga.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0Ga7cZ3eJkW-EEBMzkYdTU5crs0UhGcnwiriScF50lQs0mC0EzdRZ663xfxZaURFWTSh_HtxG4BotbtsynmW8PpwdsYEJ2rsKTJc1mCu8fq8S4xoCxhFqY88XVIbnphgX-6cQGylbta0/s400/iga.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482376410985426418" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">First up was a tour of small icebergs strewn all about Lago Argentino. this was one of the biggest we saw. That hole on the left? You could drive a golf cart through it.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh78mFr4055hYi0CEL-J5P9n7z43zllb7m8B-PhJngt1kXvCfgMwmsHzwydNI5B5ApN2m8Q9pPGKT9OdLB-LcTFMb22czrtSLsgL_AA0U4Omu66wVNdA9hWqoQW1Wm5nIPqQq_dGb4_K2S/s1600/igb.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh78mFr4055hYi0CEL-J5P9n7z43zllb7m8B-PhJngt1kXvCfgMwmsHzwydNI5B5ApN2m8Q9pPGKT9OdLB-LcTFMb22czrtSLsgL_AA0U4Omu66wVNdA9hWqoQW1Wm5nIPqQq_dGb4_K2S/s400/igb.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482373415456924386" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We had gorgeous weather to match the gorgeous gente!</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnTAG4T9xE5q2V2DgPLLxFfZAccb6d80QXnBEOX9qcTUUqKfykUBv07_TMBb-gRcqKF9nHzudzgOCssLQDI1T1F9WSCWneQ2Z2BSpjTslP89P1hG5Pb00Aajt9Ln1NZrueQvVhD0Lbu6n/s1600/igc.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLnTAG4T9xE5q2V2DgPLLxFfZAccb6d80QXnBEOX9qcTUUqKfykUBv07_TMBb-gRcqKF9nHzudzgOCssLQDI1T1F9WSCWneQ2Z2BSpjTslP89P1hG5Pb00Aajt9Ln1NZrueQvVhD0Lbu6n/s400/igc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482373414903060914" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Pieces of the glaciers periodically fall into the lake. This is accompanied by a tremendous crash that breaks the serene silence. When this happens it is not uncommon for the chunky, drunken Brazillian guy on board to shout and point. That was also not so serene.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxBioBhcql2jc9SiHvPJ-oaMOAuHOEnTFIhH9blEcPNzQWNfY4VcpjRuqDf5c6Vn5zjdOzMOQedPrLnlizJPLPsnVLj0FUZyIELZrJpa_t4KuIb7k_j8946-6q0mvj-z1XYC2pEM7uqsg/s1600/igd.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxBioBhcql2jc9SiHvPJ-oaMOAuHOEnTFIhH9blEcPNzQWNfY4VcpjRuqDf5c6Vn5zjdOzMOQedPrLnlizJPLPsnVLj0FUZyIELZrJpa_t4KuIb7k_j8946-6q0mvj-z1XYC2pEM7uqsg/s400/igd.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482373389128210514" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Belu waves goodbye as we leave Perito Moreno behind.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1v4JXKjeTJIKaKxBNwOBXibizKNdLBalFEmffF9ECpQZEjLIYTY8IqqYikg7M71ip4v-whV-gKPXNEKpBBxW8QfQ__B-wiMKMTWxA64j7ByEsfh9oYnGsQleUAO0ch1RsmMY7BupvsqL/s1600/ige.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1v4JXKjeTJIKaKxBNwOBXibizKNdLBalFEmffF9ECpQZEjLIYTY8IqqYikg7M71ip4v-whV-gKPXNEKpBBxW8QfQ__B-wiMKMTWxA64j7ByEsfh9oYnGsQleUAO0ch1RsmMY7BupvsqL/s400/ige.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482373382858363826" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">This is a picture of the sun setting behind a small hill. Time of photo: 11:15 PM.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRKnwYwOZVv80sI9I4lfvjWXAzr7Ue792W4Y5BrdweUfk0UbrluF2QyeJYX5HsVDfHUZbg6Wi-v8GhVsfKuin9-ZhXSMSUsfeNYeeRTNAbGFUxb97MEI477GzQ7U1TUVy973ho1O4tn_t/s1600/igf.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRKnwYwOZVv80sI9I4lfvjWXAzr7Ue792W4Y5BrdweUfk0UbrluF2QyeJYX5HsVDfHUZbg6Wi-v8GhVsfKuin9-ZhXSMSUsfeNYeeRTNAbGFUxb97MEI477GzQ7U1TUVy973ho1O4tn_t/s400/igf.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482373368341855714" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And that finishes up our first stop on the trip south. Will be back with an update as soon as I can about with the rest. I promise you penguins!<br /></span></div><br /><br />Other writing from January:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/01/to-b-back-and-forth-review-500-days-of.html">A to B Back and Forth Review: (500) Days of Summer</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/01/top-50-albums-of-00s-37-crooked-fingers.html">Top 50 Albums #37: Crooked Fingers - Red Devil Dawn</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/01/top-50-albums-of-00s-36-wolf-parade-at.html">Top 50 Albums #36: Wolf Parade - At Mount Zoomer</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/01/top-50-albums-of-00s-35-rodrigo-y.html">Top 50 Albums #35: Rodrigo y Gabriela - Rodrigo y Gabriela</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2010/01/top-50-albums-of-00s-34-franz-ferdinand.html">Top 50 Albums - #34: Franz Ferdinand - Franz Ferdinand</a><br /><br /><a name="data:post.title" id="data:post.url" onmouseover="'return" onmouseout="addthis_close()" onclick="return addthis_sendto()"><img src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/lg-share-en.gif" alt="" style="border: 0pt none;" width="125" border="0" height="16" /></a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/152/addthis_widget.js"></script></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-88236935499349332642010-05-30T13:40:00.003-03:002010-05-30T19:15:57.806-03:00Catching Up: December<div><script type="text/javascript">var addthis_pub="fishbone97";</script>OK, so I'm still six months behind on this whole catch-up thing and there are so many more things I want to get to! so I am going to have a bit less commentary for the remaining months and let the photos do the talking whenever possible.<br /><br />December was another very busy month at work, the end of the year is always <span style="font-style: italic;">re ocupado</span> for us. But more exciting than that was that <a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/search/label/a%20to%20b%20back%20and%20forth">Brad</a> came in from Amsterdam for an extended visit. Though we failed to <a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/search/label/a%20to%20b%20back%20and%20forth">take in a movie together</a>, Belu and I took him to all the hotspots we could. We made it to Guido's, visited <a href="http://juliasabroadblog.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Josh and Julia</a> selling their home-baked goods on the street in San Telmo, walked the ecological preserve, forced Brad to try Fernet (went poorly) and <span style="font-style: italic;">medialunas</span> (went very well), and even found time to use the tennis court here.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghd8hOEuN0QRUG00SDhQzCABeN1Ya_dxUAsSEJYKeDBcmNtXFklMKg05aC0m6ZK5_5xN-UQMogZyC0bnIx91lhkbkr-wlir0XODBx5_xSmNJPAIJ1AGrBsFbpkJpkrxSJ4ztswLjmFSTl1/s1600/IMG_0635.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghd8hOEuN0QRUG00SDhQzCABeN1Ya_dxUAsSEJYKeDBcmNtXFklMKg05aC0m6ZK5_5xN-UQMogZyC0bnIx91lhkbkr-wlir0XODBx5_xSmNJPAIJ1AGrBsFbpkJpkrxSJ4ztswLjmFSTl1/s400/IMG_0635.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476727502573523474" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I think Brad liked these </span><span style="font-size:85%;">facturas </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >even more than his </span><span style="font-size:85%;">bigote</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >.</span></div><br />Belu and I hosted our first Christmas dinner, and it came off without a hitch. <span style="font-style: italic;">Vitel toné, matambre de pollo, ensalada rusa</span>, two other types of salads, an a cake that was basically a gigantic <span style="font-style: italic;">almendrado</span> filled our bellies. We followed that a week later with a New Years Eve party. It is an Argentine tradition to light fireworks at midnight at both Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. Living on the 35th floor, we got an amazing view of the spectacle. There's no government-sponsored display, but with everyone all over town lighting their <span style="font-style: italic;">fuegos artificiales</span>, it looked like the whole city was exploding for an entire hour. Unfortunately, the photos don't remotely do it justice. I'm just saying that you should try and come to visit us next year like Brad did. I've never seen anything like it.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJbQkZgttNyb0GBMTHbwujcCpLfLnLl9BTb_mrlMSd2DZflcfp8EAl29BIKj4Knra3GtLk0FQWPaT7YVlfZwtIhsXtPvEpD1-3v3Km4qC5YN49pZtcefVY3GEgNdA-PAAfNf7-Z-6i3lG/s1600/IMG_0662.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJbQkZgttNyb0GBMTHbwujcCpLfLnLl9BTb_mrlMSd2DZflcfp8EAl29BIKj4Knra3GtLk0FQWPaT7YVlfZwtIhsXtPvEpD1-3v3Km4qC5YN49pZtcefVY3GEgNdA-PAAfNf7-Z-6i3lG/s400/IMG_0662.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476727497686350210" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Did I mention that it's summer in December here?</span></div><br />The day after Christmas, Natalia arrived and we immediately scooted off to Mendoza, the city at the heart of Argentine wine country. Here's what happened. Click on any photo to embiggen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSrsioyHa5hDSLyIb2McZWVMn6BVhmUeBYz_rdar5syvgK3O4ciRFTZ19c9GjkvDFfae-gIs_iEDnSDHAWlKUL9n3tC7-moe_Xu6Mg_J_ivrpoBnFjSDbx8vJcztCE7n_cr_TZC6g04vFW/s1600/IMG_0874.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSrsioyHa5hDSLyIb2McZWVMn6BVhmUeBYz_rdar5syvgK3O4ciRFTZ19c9GjkvDFfae-gIs_iEDnSDHAWlKUL9n3tC7-moe_Xu6Mg_J_ivrpoBnFjSDbx8vJcztCE7n_cr_TZC6g04vFW/s400/IMG_0874.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476727487712830818" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Brad, mustache free, at the reservoir in Parque San Martin in Mendoza city.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNnyg3RmdYaSpMyXsJp5XhPbwzqhzou01EQUcQqzsAGb09PGvj2fQe2XG_yI_LwCyPblGLJl9L3MgC7CtE5XsChxnsjO-IzZGS4rLkIxx1NrQOkrjlFGPhL5JAyM1sq_tAhMR-N1ShdLM/s1600/IMG_0909.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNnyg3RmdYaSpMyXsJp5XhPbwzqhzou01EQUcQqzsAGb09PGvj2fQe2XG_yI_LwCyPblGLJl9L3MgC7CtE5XsChxnsjO-IzZGS4rLkIxx1NrQOkrjlFGPhL5JAyM1sq_tAhMR-N1ShdLM/s400/IMG_0909.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476727486319123250" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >A gigantic monument to General San Martin atop the park named after him.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwc5u7GRk4NWLtg-tpOQRDEs5BKJSat15TtIPd0tDLX1KuXC7uf5db_L4mDyYmnY7x4v9_OXC7KmJk4NdH6sYUygVcJcLUUKFn5P75C20OiaREiDj-2UP-wPsMYxDO1AbsOP3ob8mFEk7/s1600/IMG_0933.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwc5u7GRk4NWLtg-tpOQRDEs5BKJSat15TtIPd0tDLX1KuXC7uf5db_L4mDyYmnY7x4v9_OXC7KmJk4NdH6sYUygVcJcLUUKFn5P75C20OiaREiDj-2UP-wPsMYxDO1AbsOP3ob8mFEk7/s400/IMG_0933.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476725605490937378" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >The view from said top of said park.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXqm5n8kAorYnSL6t4O_DA49jTX4rLWfjsdiI4EIKK2L2DClMgmquObXMPrNPHHQ5SO1gSOvH-TgOZrMV12bfpIdLm2hEfPgNU3txNfh_apKSioijV9BjfiOc82A2mCK5UMFD4ZeUu9r7/s1600/IMG_0951.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXqm5n8kAorYnSL6t4O_DA49jTX4rLWfjsdiI4EIKK2L2DClMgmquObXMPrNPHHQ5SO1gSOvH-TgOZrMV12bfpIdLm2hEfPgNU3txNfh_apKSioijV9BjfiOc82A2mCK5UMFD4ZeUu9r7/s400/IMG_0951.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476725584842953330" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >We took a bus tour up into the Andes mountains. This was the first stop. Truly amazing view, and like I said, the photos simply don't do it justice.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP42jHt82cN5lzwED-kejbyJCToq3kfbBLGS1rU4zWvkIs920AP0j3z1yCT0lQ916AzuFzvxluuyVT9h7POsEk0H-cfBjgQxhI2RLMDZpsjzQsc_yD_GnGxTvVaorsk9ntmxyrBKy1rKWH/s1600/IMG_0952.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP42jHt82cN5lzwED-kejbyJCToq3kfbBLGS1rU4zWvkIs920AP0j3z1yCT0lQ916AzuFzvxluuyVT9h7POsEk0H-cfBjgQxhI2RLMDZpsjzQsc_yD_GnGxTvVaorsk9ntmxyrBKy1rKWH/s400/IMG_0952.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476725569387527746" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >It seems like it could be Colorado at first glance, no? But then the mountains are the wrong shape. These are of course the Andes (mine!).</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WIeZgrV5oZFRg8XHFwoHkm2UttpTerF8_yg86CzQUAx6ygSmA8IlL_QVnUFy02bFpz1aVC7lVVpXv5oZ-YY49wX_Jk9PUxnTlRA5K6xiglSLXu0EXr4ilkmFF6HZtGb1Ee2ad2wcEWew/s1600/IMG_0960.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WIeZgrV5oZFRg8XHFwoHkm2UttpTerF8_yg86CzQUAx6ygSmA8IlL_QVnUFy02bFpz1aVC7lVVpXv5oZ-YY49wX_Jk9PUxnTlRA5K6xiglSLXu0EXr4ilkmFF6HZtGb1Ee2ad2wcEWew/s400/IMG_0960.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476725556691956402" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Brad and Natalia on top of the world. Note that Natalia and I had our cameras strapped to us pretty much the whole time. Looking through the photos it is very hard to find one of either of us without them. Just be thankful that I'm only showing a handful of the shots taken. Between us over two weeks we took around 2000 shots.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLQxD-2l5XmVcRmJX5rBbf3gBedXwqojWiTw8aVGZOBM1i3NPYpdr1AF2ma92pmWOHeiMbAHE-d3juHTMesvan51ZY48qLQg2nQcJOOpTb0bN4AvT9Q7TQS-NDCjrB3G_MLbixjMQi1UJ/s1600/IMG_0962.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLQxD-2l5XmVcRmJX5rBbf3gBedXwqojWiTw8aVGZOBM1i3NPYpdr1AF2ma92pmWOHeiMbAHE-d3juHTMesvan51ZY48qLQg2nQcJOOpTb0bN4AvT9Q7TQS-NDCjrB3G_MLbixjMQi1UJ/s400/IMG_0962.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476725530617773346" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I mean, look at this view!. And we were just getting started.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKd5kKMIp6RMROgbKOMaJ3PnWeiqR7vBel87Klafok49q1lZAaJCOKDTKR_CDe8BNPmyNPDXcqcpmeruUYhbcaBq-_TtQ6tT6wj-JYiuM1XvDus68DOHwPvr3gI4aYig93671Y8LVBUQSI/s1600/IMG_1011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKd5kKMIp6RMROgbKOMaJ3PnWeiqR7vBel87Klafok49q1lZAaJCOKDTKR_CDe8BNPmyNPDXcqcpmeruUYhbcaBq-_TtQ6tT6wj-JYiuM1XvDus68DOHwPvr3gI4aYig93671Y8LVBUQSI/s400/IMG_1011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476722248837372018" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >In the background, you can see Cerro Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas. (It's the snow-capped one on the left.) You can also see other people in our tour group, but I think the camera frightened the tour guide a bit, so I can't complain.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQwzIuLO2SlKX3eBzxAptSfJSohp27UR5BP5wFbWliB3lkbDUNan1mHx6y0N7csDqW-jAklc9-9YyktKxWiq1ZrczFHEJYclgCRtRHOH0vXcSOBM4Rksc-OGg76uvKTaK6TOBLFEKm2e9/s1600/IMG_1029.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQwzIuLO2SlKX3eBzxAptSfJSohp27UR5BP5wFbWliB3lkbDUNan1mHx6y0N7csDqW-jAklc9-9YyktKxWiq1ZrczFHEJYclgCRtRHOH0vXcSOBM4Rksc-OGg76uvKTaK6TOBLFEKm2e9/s400/IMG_1029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476722238729435058" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >This was as high as we went, very close to the Chilean border. Catching breath up there was extremely difficult, even for Brad who is in better shape than anyone I know. Is it me or does the sky seem closer?<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRVZSQZU6dgHe14Sd62XIpI-k4K9W26lA7lxbCMjLv_ucLUU80b6aFF2MeAXwdFASVbltd5hHS-oCNUsUhbgaYy_dWj4pfWDL_zPY4Z2APW5K0xw7RXHTJ-hDl32YWsMJgl_FoI7eL9cC/s1600/IMG_1033.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRVZSQZU6dgHe14Sd62XIpI-k4K9W26lA7lxbCMjLv_ucLUU80b6aFF2MeAXwdFASVbltd5hHS-oCNUsUhbgaYy_dWj4pfWDL_zPY4Z2APW5K0xw7RXHTJ-hDl32YWsMJgl_FoI7eL9cC/s400/IMG_1033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476722198524835458" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Note the little stone shelter all by its lonesome up there. Behind where I took this picture, there was a little tiny group of buildings, but they weren't quite so lonesome because there were a few of them.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6J-OsHMo52_bzEMeVAqUCaVCtiK5mEMqvLOlMDj68A6-e9Fllh8pQ9j13jKrr_08XS_jWOabMf8CcA1QtUVLcDarhQdhiH6TFDit4UX4j5gkGqY30mzvhL8SZFhDhz4XV27Hj6lo9oSCR/s1600/IMG_1038.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6J-OsHMo52_bzEMeVAqUCaVCtiK5mEMqvLOlMDj68A6-e9Fllh8pQ9j13jKrr_08XS_jWOabMf8CcA1QtUVLcDarhQdhiH6TFDit4UX4j5gkGqY30mzvhL8SZFhDhz4XV27Hj6lo9oSCR/s400/IMG_1038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476722175917872850" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puente_del_Inca">Puente del Inca</a>. A natural wonder. The rocks get their color due to an underground spring.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJpsLoLLh77WW7D-XvduiLcsQx96rh-5ccSIazk5kTTlkW5fX9DBjRyuNGHBip_OQPVgRO7pgu6fr49hNpAzUMCUAryIM_4liTcfpGxeY8sWvuUwsETr_fTW8n1Fl_UJwGMkgfoGkX-H1b/s1600/IMG_1041.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJpsLoLLh77WW7D-XvduiLcsQx96rh-5ccSIazk5kTTlkW5fX9DBjRyuNGHBip_OQPVgRO7pgu6fr49hNpAzUMCUAryIM_4liTcfpGxeY8sWvuUwsETr_fTW8n1Fl_UJwGMkgfoGkX-H1b/s400/IMG_1041.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476719112278291042" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >There was once a spa housed under the natural bridge. Visitors would arrive by train, walk across the bridge and stay in a lodge/hotel on the other side of the river. It was in operation from 1917 until 1965 when heavy snow caused the collapse of the roof of a chapel on the site.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65fX3XydF0k45SwBQXlGtykEO19Y1IVS3SMyEg9CNq6bJXEyUSGrIFPf6cNcj8jIl50_2YfYeL-lhCSXuC-sBPB1yrNgHJIjr5TWHSFGCRm9JO11JyXNsHv7vL-csARR7KYlBwH-Y38sS/s1600/IMG_1045.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65fX3XydF0k45SwBQXlGtykEO19Y1IVS3SMyEg9CNq6bJXEyUSGrIFPf6cNcj8jIl50_2YfYeL-lhCSXuC-sBPB1yrNgHJIjr5TWHSFGCRm9JO11JyXNsHv7vL-csARR7KYlBwH-Y38sS/s400/IMG_1045.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476719106544552850" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >If only this were a river of chocolate milk (like it looks), I never would have left!</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EBY82m1DxyfRqbJh9jW74lq1_qCKLYfa3P7NSei9J-K01t2V_d831pbpx4tbIK6DJB4_5M9Ye-SY78O2__bOetSxT1JJ1kl_Aa_RPtxfZp26llkcryFspAspSKTJ_R56xoM2JzPwvvIt/s1600/IMG_1073.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EBY82m1DxyfRqbJh9jW74lq1_qCKLYfa3P7NSei9J-K01t2V_d831pbpx4tbIK6DJB4_5M9Ye-SY78O2__bOetSxT1JJ1kl_Aa_RPtxfZp26llkcryFspAspSKTJ_R56xoM2JzPwvvIt/s400/IMG_1073.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476719093975614514" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >A whole lot of wine in those barrels.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLkw8quVOFyRhCVD8GgcmphZKkVW4QRitPY1n8P0-dZhaHq_EujOT1Su8iJj1Ov-WOuchEOZDEsJnN5ScCXLfpQvkz1j5fsI4YwGV_u1CXURi5VSVjwK3zKpTxzVbSwBJkyzPKJU5hr0S/s1600/IMG_1105.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLkw8quVOFyRhCVD8GgcmphZKkVW4QRitPY1n8P0-dZhaHq_EujOT1Su8iJj1Ov-WOuchEOZDEsJnN5ScCXLfpQvkz1j5fsI4YwGV_u1CXURi5VSVjwK3zKpTxzVbSwBJkyzPKJU5hr0S/s400/IMG_1105.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476719085147360274" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Brad got his turn holding the cameras, too. I can't remember what cracked him up here, but I promise it was something hilarious.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVlYF0QSCwkDdzHyWnRj_YliiBGpfkqQ5CQUmySYaH_EnKuLhCnpZHV9zvZec8cSVJS_KTzV5zUW5SmtSU5e_Znwd88dmWudCvGPqZA_EVNcrvqQj9NoXr6dywxP-zLVwq72bP6QXnYdG/s1600/IMG_1126.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVlYF0QSCwkDdzHyWnRj_YliiBGpfkqQ5CQUmySYaH_EnKuLhCnpZHV9zvZec8cSVJS_KTzV5zUW5SmtSU5e_Znwd88dmWudCvGPqZA_EVNcrvqQj9NoXr6dywxP-zLVwq72bP6QXnYdG/s400/IMG_1126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476715842091460130" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >In the Bonfanti tasting room</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNm58xBLvhgpMjdB7G7Fgo9G90xA47XR5K-xOEPUvolUelRnuW_Gj_ahOrAqL-_97f40NeonHKzoy2FY5HY8-GLD7cMaRmLzLVg5y3xZZXl4DmPTfH53smObKl9QzHPU3hwuuVvfWvVPQU/s1600/IMG_1127.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNm58xBLvhgpMjdB7G7Fgo9G90xA47XR5K-xOEPUvolUelRnuW_Gj_ahOrAqL-_97f40NeonHKzoy2FY5HY8-GLD7cMaRmLzLVg5y3xZZXl4DmPTfH53smObKl9QzHPU3hwuuVvfWvVPQU/s400/IMG_1127.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476715304826706002" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >The tour guide at Bonfanti. One of the most boring, information-laden tours of my life. Seriously, this guy went on forever and ever. Worse, the Brazilian couple (not pictured) that asked inane questions like, "How many glasses of wine should you have with dinner?" At the end, we only got two feeble tastes. But we later figured out how to manage this stuff better. More in a second...<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceSl6S4aYpnDxHr7uEx3b9Jn7CHB3YL1_ALZb952D3VTWYmCGZcWO_HcVesTW0YLezgUqDzvxE9OTwXlWvtzXJJYkDrqs5OwVpTAyUtfOo4Ywjh7HaJ2OYnwH511krXMFbasbZO0zLXww/s1600/IMG_1141.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceSl6S4aYpnDxHr7uEx3b9Jn7CHB3YL1_ALZb952D3VTWYmCGZcWO_HcVesTW0YLezgUqDzvxE9OTwXlWvtzXJJYkDrqs5OwVpTAyUtfOo4Ywjh7HaJ2OYnwH511krXMFbasbZO0zLXww/s400/IMG_1141.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476715296432761154" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Brad atop his friend, Pancho, a horse lacking the desire to listen to Brad's directions.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3fEORhM-5W9Fix_bRw6GGlAZL9JhIm0UEikj7ZGhpFyUgPLsadzZnVL_bMYDvskC2Hqd1QhdeCIFSJcgGK__MlCI25fbyYD5fNN_ac_wdE0Zz5y9LhcfipAotQNgUQklf_uaQPrO-30o/s1600/IMG_1143.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3fEORhM-5W9Fix_bRw6GGlAZL9JhIm0UEikj7ZGhpFyUgPLsadzZnVL_bMYDvskC2Hqd1QhdeCIFSJcgGK__MlCI25fbyYD5fNN_ac_wdE0Zz5y9LhcfipAotQNgUQklf_uaQPrO-30o/s400/IMG_1143.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476715292896929634" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Brad, Natalia, and I ready to head back to HQ. We opted for the four-hour cabalgata instead of two hours, and it paid off in that it was just us, the tour guide, two crazy dogs, and the mountains. Note, the concierge at our hotel called it "horsing."</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpKn8j7ZMUzDMOToRVnJgo3xClsXGMQyMq9qQ9yi1UUCwGOt9J29A_VgRA4CXXOOq0GOp8CnOTFCZmxWeRyQ0k0MzkSbJQHk5e5nNsR2xDng_4bn41viiP7Yjf8FytRk_vt1B1cQ5biWxi/s1600/IMG_1145.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpKn8j7ZMUzDMOToRVnJgo3xClsXGMQyMq9qQ9yi1UUCwGOt9J29A_VgRA4CXXOOq0GOp8CnOTFCZmxWeRyQ0k0MzkSbJQHk5e5nNsR2xDng_4bn41viiP7Yjf8FytRk_vt1B1cQ5biWxi/s400/IMG_1145.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476715283769028050" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >"Ayyyyy." (No, that's not my hat, but I want one.)</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyaryCE5zVbg5Zr1oBauAozzq5dQpXc2EJmSbgrhv06zdPYksdroJ03df4BQQfX-p2YrZcyojuUuemc2wzeGl6pnIwYUohoth2lB6IrYGOiBGIiMbusAdqu4cJSMswUH__uKIJWAIrOOX/s1600/IMG_1153.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyaryCE5zVbg5Zr1oBauAozzq5dQpXc2EJmSbgrhv06zdPYksdroJ03df4BQQfX-p2YrZcyojuUuemc2wzeGl6pnIwYUohoth2lB6IrYGOiBGIiMbusAdqu4cJSMswUH__uKIJWAIrOOX/s400/IMG_1153.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476715273033224018" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >The view from Bodega Septima's terrace, where we ate lunch on our last day. Lunch that included all-the-wine-you-care-to-drink. Both wine and food were excellent, and it was a relaxing and beautiful location to enjoy the afternoon. From there we went to Ruca Malen, from which remembering details are somewhat for obvious reasons.<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4YTZpg5S2Te7guSXoMOPKqZvTt089hYYIKXIHGSDcCOSt-xbu4MHAwX15ncrFGhtDOp97KB7120EuzLb1dsIY3gbIMhRBQw0GY7jB0RcnW0nL0wYns44Byg7_REqx9UA8rJmN6saHKWx/s1600/IMG_0968.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4YTZpg5S2Te7guSXoMOPKqZvTt089hYYIKXIHGSDcCOSt-xbu4MHAwX15ncrFGhtDOp97KB7120EuzLb1dsIY3gbIMhRBQw0GY7jB0RcnW0nL0wYns44Byg7_REqx9UA8rJmN6saHKWx/s400/IMG_0968.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476722267237909186" border="0" /></a>All in all a fantastic trip for the three of us. Unfortunately, Belu didn't have enough vacation time to join in the fun. So all translation duties were left to me. On the phone one night, I mentioned that I was surprised how much Spanish I already knew. I told her (in Spanish), "I don't know exactly when someone is supposed to declare victory on such things, but I think I'm ready to say that I'm fluent." Belu kindly responded, "OK, but we don't really say it like that." So maybe I was jumping the gun. Fortunately, in January we traveled again and got to bring Belu with us. Y'all come back soon for the details (and <span style="font-style: italic;">many</span> photos) on the next edition of "Catching Up."<br /><br />Other writing from December:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/12/top-50-albums-of-00s-39-hot-water-music.html">Top 50 Albums #39: Hot Water Music - Caution</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/12/top-50-albums-of-00s-38-national-boxer.html">Top 50 Albums #38: The National - Boxer</a><br /><br /><br /><a name="data:post.title" id="data:post.url" onmouseover="'return" onmouseout="addthis_close()" onclick="return addthis_sendto()"><img src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/lg-share-en.gif" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ;" width="125" border="0" height="16" /></a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/152/addthis_widget.js"></script></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-65036941234581181652010-05-25T22:03:00.001-03:002010-05-26T23:26:44.162-03:00Catching Up: November, Part II<div><script type="text/javascript">var addthis_pub="fishbone97";</script>The <span style="font-style: italic;">taxista </span>had dropped me off in the wrong place. I found myself standing alone on a dark Colombian street with no idea where I needed to go. I was tired after a long night of traveling and had no local currency, but my spirits were high nonetheless. I was looking for Sergio's house, a friend I hadn't yet made. My phone didn't work and since I had my bags with me, I felt like a blatant candidate for robbery...<br /><br />As <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/04/catching-up-november-part-i.html">promised in Part I</a>, the month was loaded with Ultimate. The first half of the month delivered success in the face of more stringent challenges than we'd seen before in the Buenos Aires league, but the second half would prove to be at a different level in every possible way. Thanks to a small group of ambitious and dedicated players, the local community decided to arm a national team to compete in the <span style="font-style: italic;">Torneo Eterna Primavera</span> in Medellin, Colombia. I was deemed a capable enough player (probably only barely), and fortunately could spare the time (again, barely) and expense. So off I went with <span style="font-style: italic;">Team Truco</span> to a country entirely new for me.<br /><br />The arrival was a bit chaotic, but my friend Emi (an Argentine who had visited Medellin previously) took care of me, and sent me well on my way to Sergio's. I eventually figured out the cabbie's mistake and before too long I had arrived, tired and anxious about the following day's big games.<br /><br />The team arrived to the field early eager to make our home country proud. But we were not prepared for this level of play. Some on the team (especially the Colombian natives) knew what was coming. Some, like me for instance, did not. From the first point I realized that virtually every matchup was going to be against someone younger, faster, more experienced, and with a much bigger tank of gas. At least most of 'em weren't very tall. My real Ultimate background was the Chicago Simpsons Division, a great league in so many ways, but not exactly championship-caliber competition.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqAPsDMC1Z9LN-VEuqjnf_F02sXCh1MC1S81nklQRz6km_cA946JYNsCg6ACI-qcZs387GFLWn6YdFNt6y1Dzclog8WAVNNxxaLn3w_gji7fv4nEKYYW5_UtVbJlzolXe4EMLeXmZodvX0/s1600/teamtruco.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqAPsDMC1Z9LN-VEuqjnf_F02sXCh1MC1S81nklQRz6km_cA946JYNsCg6ACI-qcZs387GFLWn6YdFNt6y1Dzclog8WAVNNxxaLn3w_gji7fv4nEKYYW5_UtVbJlzolXe4EMLeXmZodvX0/s400/teamtruco.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475400641070316914" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Team Argentina "before"</span></div><br />In our first game, against Colombian team Ki.ê, we got stomped pretty bad. We simply couldn't hang. They were more fit, and had been playing together for years. We were a band of dudes from the Buenos Aires league and a few more like Sergio who had visited and were game enough to don the <span style="font-style: italic;">celeste y blanco</span>. There wasn't much time for us to get it together. But improve we did. With each passing game, we congealed more as a team, figured out our roles and worked together. I must admit that I remained intimidated. Those Buenos Aires finals seemed like ages ago. But I too looked for ways to bring my game to a higher level - running faster, making better cuts, and clamping down better defensively. I still wasn't keeping up, but in some ways I was playing better than I ever had in my life.<br /><br />Let me digress from the play-by-play for a few important comments. Firstly, no trip to Colombia is complete without indulging in the amazing variety and quality of fresh fruit available. There were old favorites like pineapple, mango, and papaya, but also a whole slew of new favorites whose names I can't recall, but whose flavor I will savor forever. Even though I was probably playing less than 25% of the points, after each game I was completely spent. It was that intense. But at every park, there were people selling <span style="font-style: italic;">salpicón de frutas</span>. Quite simply the most satisfying collection of sweet fruit complimented by a hollow cookie and evaporated milk. Downing one of those was all the refueling I needed.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlq-iR-1vHLixUZqYtBQ00XhS4lQvcUjba5sqHSxALXwjaLQlYXpRquWXBdHVIZfcoT92Fkzikzk652BlA8mbOxlLsyrj1_6mp3xG2ychupOJSvyTiXNL48mqrAzBeBKAqUw4TlXnFDBw/s1600/IMG_4430.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlq-iR-1vHLixUZqYtBQ00XhS4lQvcUjba5sqHSxALXwjaLQlYXpRquWXBdHVIZfcoT92Fkzikzk652BlA8mbOxlLsyrj1_6mp3xG2ychupOJSvyTiXNL48mqrAzBeBKAqUw4TlXnFDBw/s400/IMG_4430.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475400664475407442" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Some exotic fruit whose name I can't recall, but the flavor was exquisite</span></div><br />Even more impressive than the produce was the <span style="font-style: italic;">onda</span> of the Medellin residents. Sergio was first and foremost for me, going above and beyond any reasonable expectations one could have of a host. But everywhere I went, I was hit with friendliness. It was truly amazing. The parking attendant at a grocery store chatted with us for ten minutes. The security guard at the airport talked about Ultimate with us for 15 minutes - all the while checking through our bags for drugs and weapons. One of the things I really dig about Argentina is how much more friendly and open the people are than in the US. My Colombian friends, however, have always called the Argentines cold. Now I see why. As I said, it left a great impression on me.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVmddhoB5i9ngtnXb74ptS4iUd7uVA_TZG7yDb5-rGF4bzscYexrEEOVpn0yju6o3KikS3pGL_PXxUcZI1hHyq10bgyNjmx76KPXJ07eo8389uwL7oVkb6BZFAciLMmy3MFIeuWJkNjcW/s1600/IMG_4427.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVmddhoB5i9ngtnXb74ptS4iUd7uVA_TZG7yDb5-rGF4bzscYexrEEOVpn0yju6o3KikS3pGL_PXxUcZI1hHyq10bgyNjmx76KPXJ07eo8389uwL7oVkb6BZFAciLMmy3MFIeuWJkNjcW/s400/IMG_4427.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475400657405396530" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Martin rolled up in the banner for some good reason</span></div><br />Back to the game. Day 2 featured the morning kicking off against Seattle Sockeye, one of the top Ultimate teams in the world. We really had no business being on the same field as them, but we gave it our best, losing 15-3. And I think we would all say that we left pretty much satisfied with the 3. These guys were not just a phenomenal team, they were superb ambassadors for the game, playing with top notch spirit.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHLSyJ4oMgEE0Ntf8wWSGBJc4a577U8e-UQXuiYkWnQMo2o4p_XIexiDxrwrkKR0dIOm7Tpw7jbPI31tZrUiw4z6O0IAUszmQEqCOGtdgDFPTgd5pTpL546QNKCf68M5kVOvu0XtA8hak/s1600/emigotit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHLSyJ4oMgEE0Ntf8wWSGBJc4a577U8e-UQXuiYkWnQMo2o4p_XIexiDxrwrkKR0dIOm7Tpw7jbPI31tZrUiw4z6O0IAUszmQEqCOGtdgDFPTgd5pTpL546QNKCf68M5kVOvu0XtA8hak/s400/emigotit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475400666182069426" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Emi snatches the disc for a score (photo by Mike)</span></div><br />Back in part I, I said that "on days when you're off your game, a frustrating round of golf seems soothing comparison." My dark moment came in the middle game of the tournament. We seemed to have a lift, picking things up, working as a team more. After finding ourselves down early in the contest, we hung tough and got on a roll, eventually cutting the deficit to 12-9 late in the game. After receiving the disc on a great continue cut, Alan found me bolting downfield on a continue cut of my own. I reeled in the disc about one meter from the endzone. Dani, my Big Red teammate, zoomed to the goal totally by himself. And I... I... I still don't exactly know what happened. I've always been good in the clutch. But this time, well, I can definitely say that my brain was turned off as I threw a backhand to the right side of the endzone well out of Dani's reach. At this level of play, you can't give up possession and you can't throw away sure points. I could have chucked a blade to him and we would have scored. This was easily the worst <span style="font-style: italic;">pecho frio</span> moment of my life. We ended up losing the point and with it, the game. I commented to some teammates, "I'm going to have to live with that throw for a very long time." Here we are six months later, and I still haven't shaken the moment. Would we have won if I had delivered the disc? I don't know, but we would have had a chance... My confidence was ruptured after that, and I didn't really get on track in any of the remaining games.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOtGRZCBIk88PCaAScilGcqwtZAFikIUxSi5KfKFW_5ifMjQjGF-W70p3fO-H3vYMoYuY-Coeao1In6EwbRBO71AUsR8odoyQ4QPA2GhvdX4tODiYdUC6pTgPm9dNUKg_i2s_Wt1MSpDv/s1600/andrewgotit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOtGRZCBIk88PCaAScilGcqwtZAFikIUxSi5KfKFW_5ifMjQjGF-W70p3fO-H3vYMoYuY-Coeao1In6EwbRBO71AUsR8odoyQ4QPA2GhvdX4tODiYdUC6pTgPm9dNUKg_i2s_Wt1MSpDv/s400/andrewgotit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475404945732746386" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I <span style="font-style: italic;">did</span> catch this one for a score after bobbling it. So I wasn't 100% broken after the earlier gaffe. But perhaps I shouldn't have bobbled it. And I most definitely shouldn't have spiked the disc afterwards. (Photo by Mike)</span></div><br />Brief moments often loom large in Ultimate, but it's the errors that tend to have the biggest impact. The higher level you go, the less forgiving the game is. A misplayed cross-breeze, or a too-quick decision can make the final difference between winning and losing. In some ways, the less competitive division in Chicago is something I miss. But at the same time, getting beat by the best is something that only makes you better. And I learned a ton. Seattle Sockeye beat out Vancouver's Furious George to win the title in a game displaying what's possible on an Ultimate field when the best players in the world go at each other. It was a gorgeous thing to witness. I feel lucky to have been there.<br /><br />We hit some bars to celebrate what was a successful trip, even if we couldn't quite notch any victories. I look back on the journey with equal parts nostalgia and appreciation for the experience. As much as I've rambled here, I didn't even get to the ajiaco, street hot dogs piled with everything imaginable, heartbreaking/last-play-of-the-game loss to Domino, ladies' penchant for designer jeans, <span style="font-style: italic;">aguardiente</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">papas rellenas</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">(con salsa picante!)</span>, fantastic views, a bar that served only shots, the nice Colombian lady who helped me get cash, songs from the women's teams, harrowing cab ride to the airport, and probably a million other things I have forgotten. Aside from my mediocre play on the field, the trip surpassed every expectation and then some. I hope I can do it again someday.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVR_euLPbHoMM6Dn3Min1vPe9bJZY39nIh252E0IOUSN0Zt7XDYHQdhhBzJDGnKvc_qRLRf2oQqJ756EgUXTKleoz961DkdIVWeNaimVHOoD2nI-WkNWTksbpz6joDsCEIFZv9n1QVVyu/s1600/teamtruco2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVR_euLPbHoMM6Dn3Min1vPe9bJZY39nIh252E0IOUSN0Zt7XDYHQdhhBzJDGnKvc_qRLRf2oQqJ756EgUXTKleoz961DkdIVWeNaimVHOoD2nI-WkNWTksbpz6joDsCEIFZv9n1QVVyu/s400/teamtruco2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475400647562994514" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Team Truco "after"</span></div><br />PS - I have already told them personally, but I must give special thanks to Mike and Martin for organizing and managing the whole shebang, to Emi for basically taking care of me that first night, and to Sergio for going way above and beyond what any <span style="font-style: italic;">anfitrión</span> could possibly be asked to do. <span style="font-style: italic;">Un abrazo fuerte a todos. Vamos Truco!!!</span><br /><br /><a name="data:post.title" id="data:post.url" onmouseover="'return" onmouseout="addthis_close()" onclick="return addthis_sendto()"><img src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/lg-share-en.gif" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ;" width="125" border="0" height="16" /></a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/152/addthis_widget.js"></script></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-30481475022778180272010-04-26T18:25:00.007-03:002010-10-21T19:40:42.449-03:00Catching Up: November, Part I<div><script type="text/javascript">var addthis_pub="fishbone97";</script>I often think back to a conversation I had in <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2008/12/sun-over-beach.html">Monte Hermoso</a> during our celebratory <span style="font-style: italic;">asado </span>with <a href="http://juliasabroadblog.blogspot.com/">Josh</a> and Nick. Josh, you see, had always been a die-hard basketball junkie. He couldn't get enough. By all accounts, (well, by his accounts anyway), he was a damn good player. I had been the same, though probably not as strong a hoopster as he was, but basketball was the only sport I wanted to play. Times change. I got sick of people hacking drives to the hoop and calling bullshit fouls. So maybe I was looking for something else. When my friend Joe forcibly turned me on to Ultimate, it was a coercion for which I have found myself forever grateful.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bnOiAVW1XjedI8-ncDHRO4yqQcJLjSTeIewHgJsLv5mMmgKG74lWmoD-9xGQVKo6zCAfscsx9FEYqEU_EcLtJaEQb3GvW5X5nvEDLQWRopzcOsvj7CrLDsZhnLbx75f6EM43OHq_hxL9/s1600/todos.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 145px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bnOiAVW1XjedI8-ncDHRO4yqQcJLjSTeIewHgJsLv5mMmgKG74lWmoD-9xGQVKo6zCAfscsx9FEYqEU_EcLtJaEQb3GvW5X5nvEDLQWRopzcOsvj7CrLDsZhnLbx75f6EM43OHq_hxL9/s400/todos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464560553678150834" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">That's a fine-lookin' league!</span></div><br />Ultimate was still relatively new to Josh, and though he was clearly enjoying it, he had yet to be totally convinced of its supremacy. Nick and I concluded our diatribe by repeating simply but assuredly, "It's the <span style="font-weight: bold;">best </span>sport." In that moment, we were perhaps a bit absolute in this conclusion, fueled by excessive amounts of beef and wine. Josh seemed to accept that we meant it and took it to heart. A year later, Josh would later claim, on videotape, that Ultimate is <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/03/video-from-ultimate-argentina.html">"his vida"</a> here in Argentina. Maybe that was an overstatement and maybe not, but regardless there's something about this game. When you're playing well, it's like flying. You see the plays develop the moment they begin. You send the disc to the open space, on its way to connect with a teammate like they were born to be together. When you're the one chasing it down, you're a shark intercepting its prey. And on days when you're off your game, the frustration of horrible round of golf seems soothing by comparison.<br /><br />November unveiled itself to be the most Ultimate-laden month of my life, and I owe it all to the amazing community that has sprung up around the sport in Buenos Aires. You may recall the last time I brought up the sport in this space, <a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2009/08/end-is-beginning.html">detailing Big Red's triumphant fall campaign</a>. From that point onward, the team continued its success. We tore through the spring season, winning every game. Even though we were practicing twice a week and had really gelled, the games kept getting closer. An intense one against Discosur ended with a one-point victory. And in the last game of the season, Aqua gave us all we could handle before we finally pulled away in the second half.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CY0daeuHzNt75-4hEKHCAd33t4jPiVf9ewnMXmDZUSHAmFqi9YX4Ndw_GYVEd7IGwmvZWEQu0gMjxPgptreak_I5eP_BBfZ_S6XF9KiHufZQYbuMGWWt53Ic0cZausGGwknk26AC7x9Y/s1600/tingettinlow.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CY0daeuHzNt75-4hEKHCAd33t4jPiVf9ewnMXmDZUSHAmFqi9YX4Ndw_GYVEd7IGwmvZWEQu0gMjxPgptreak_I5eP_BBfZ_S6XF9KiHufZQYbuMGWWt53Ic0cZausGGwknk26AC7x9Y/s400/tingettinlow.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464560545860852530" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Martin shows that all those throwing practices have paid dividends</span></div><br />It is amazing how much improvement each of the four Buenos Aires teams have seen. Strong leadership and dedication from all the league's participants are having an impact. When we arrived to Parque Sarmiento for the season-ending tournament, we were probably overconfident. Facing Cadillacs in our first game, they came out playing a zone that gave us fits. We retaliated the only way we could at first - with solid defense. Seriously, it was like the Pistons and Pacers in 2004 out there. The first half ended with Cadillacs up 5-3, and every single Big Red <span style="font-style: italic;">jugador</span> nervous if not downright scared. I was in the scared category. To go undefeated for nearly two full seasons and lose in the semis is not what we were after, but we didn't seem to have any answers for what they were throwing at us.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKy-Kf-6_OJOBgDuj46Vg5gow_zFataMkod0LDLKmrn0NpkhiF1F7CPiNMbiaarvlJEEzYPLPfHdj5luQotm7MFb422VLERAXrTPanTfw6fn3unK5J3Jya2en-nQX-ahvjiSZZbpqf1F5m/s1600/juntos.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKy-Kf-6_OJOBgDuj46Vg5gow_zFataMkod0LDLKmrn0NpkhiF1F7CPiNMbiaarvlJEEzYPLPfHdj5luQotm7MFb422VLERAXrTPanTfw6fn3unK5J3Jya2en-nQX-ahvjiSZZbpqf1F5m/s400/juntos.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464560535960254674" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Big Red = Buena onda</span></div><br />The half-time talk was almost as <span style="font-style: italic;">duro</span> as the Cadillac defense. People were vocal but positive, and we came out for the second half charged up. Thanks to some more aggressive passes (one could say risky, but they worked), we found the weaknesses in the defense and bounced down the field to some beautiful scores. At the same time, we turned up our defense and managed to pull away in the second half. We'd regained our swagger, but deep down I think a lot of us were tired after a match that was more intense than we had expected.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ47ONUe_WszWApGVxgZGHNOM738Im2RfcZPTGWzmUcZ3QDtmRwtEs5K8pXBBc8AjT8YVhlNxhYk0vkTKxYObT0cnWDKI2hOOyc7CViv5S0n9a9M2aKtNmko2oEXagYcl8aCV4Chs4amLE/s1600/comer.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 368px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ47ONUe_WszWApGVxgZGHNOM738Im2RfcZPTGWzmUcZ3QDtmRwtEs5K8pXBBc8AjT8YVhlNxhYk0vkTKxYObT0cnWDKI2hOOyc7CViv5S0n9a9M2aKtNmko2oEXagYcl8aCV4Chs4amLE/s400/comer.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464560529359143730" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I am pretty sure I caught this disc - I just can't remember if it was with my hand or my mouth.</span></div><br />That set us up for a showdown versus Discosur. The first half could not have been more even. I'm pretty sure the maximum consecutive points by either team was two. Come halftime, we had no reason to hang our heads. Both teams brought their A game, and all of us were totally exhausted. At the same time, we had proven to ourselves that we were a second-half team, and knew that there was nothing left but to keep playing hard. Somehow we discovered another gear on defense and rolled to a 15-8 victory.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeVhavbriQTLU5_VaKwGkyKd_LVqRAxMKtW4KAmoC0alOuVeLD8OAQT2SWT4j0Gad3P-bMMc5foiKnMhtk-9BfiBZZG8yfuhyphenhyphenMVxpTygPWexWeL3P4Zhj0t_Xfw1DNve9aKmiIJM-adNV/s1600/randy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeVhavbriQTLU5_VaKwGkyKd_LVqRAxMKtW4KAmoC0alOuVeLD8OAQT2SWT4j0Gad3P-bMMc5foiKnMhtk-9BfiBZZG8yfuhyphenhyphenMVxpTygPWexWeL3P4Zhj0t_Xfw1DNve9aKmiIJM-adNV/s400/randy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464560540643919746" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The team can smell the win after Randall notches a crucial point</span></div><br />Whereas the fall season ended with a romp and pure elation on the field, the emotions this time around were relief and satisfaction overlaid with a healthy dose of pure exhaustion. Winning this tournament was <span style="font-style: italic;">hard</span>. It's obvious that the Buenos Aires league has really stepped up the quality, and coming out on top felt like a huge accomplishment. A week later, we celebrated at Mike and Kyla's with a Colombian feast prepared by Roxy and Carlos. We'll end today's post at this point, but Part II is coming up, and it features more Ultimate <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> Colombian feasting. So get ready, you.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCoTcrj6hLk56LtZ87iiTKggqXjPubg9S9-IMFRatW3sqFmTlAVJJBVOqQU825hkeYNficHLRZTRJagLH1HollqeO81jt3H6NfZHOESHzbdXURaSCZ40Coo9l9O7rey_PbHu8C0ZP3RiUd/s1600/campeon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCoTcrj6hLk56LtZ87iiTKggqXjPubg9S9-IMFRatW3sqFmTlAVJJBVOqQU825hkeYNficHLRZTRJagLH1HollqeO81jt3H6NfZHOESHzbdXURaSCZ40Coo9l9O7rey_PbHu8C0ZP3RiUd/s400/campeon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464560101676248434" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The sweet taste of victory</span></div><br />Other writing from November:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/11/top-50-albums-of-00s-43-ladyhawk.html">Top 50 Albums #43 - Ladyhawk - Ladyhawk</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/11/top-50-albums-of-00s-42-okkervil-river.html">Top 50 Albums #42 - Okkervil River - Black Sheep Boy</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/11/top-50-albums-of-00s-41-gogol-bordello.html">Top 50 Albums #41 - Gogol Bordello - Gypsy Punks</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-b-back-and-forth-review-inglorious.html">A to B Back and Forth Review: Inglorious Basterds</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/11/top-50-albums-of-00s-40-eels-daisies-of.html">Top 50 Albums #40 - Eels - Daisies of the Galaxy</a><br /><a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/2009/11/down-in-hole.html">Down in a Hole - More frustrations for Michigan</a><br /><br /><a name="data:post.title" id="data:post.url" onmouseover="'return" onmouseout="addthis_close()" onclick="return addthis_sendto()"><img src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/lg-share-en.gif" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ;" width="125" border="0" height="16" /></a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/152/addthis_widget.js"></script></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-43045447732824182742010-03-29T22:17:00.014-03:002010-03-29T23:19:38.339-03:00Catching Up: October<div><script type="text/javascript">var addthis_pub="fishbone97";</script>To be honest, most of October pretty much followed the same a<a href="http://reedrambles.blogspot.com/2010/03/catching-up-september.html"></a>s September. Belu and I toiled with our new apartment on a daily basis (though, it should be said, not with each other). I was able to play a bit more Ultimate, though we'll save the news on that front for November. Let's get to the news in blurb form:<br /><br />Did you know that Volta (one of the primo <span style="font-style: italic;">heladerias</span> in Buenos Aires) was running a promotion whereby if you walked into one of their shops on the night that the <a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/2009/09/on-deals.html">Argentine National Soccer team</a> was playing, you could buy one kilo of ice cream and get another for free? It's true. Guess who decided to take advantage? I'm sad to say that this was all devoured in less than two weeks. I'm happy to say it was delicious.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6POA6SYU7kc8z6X7kGGVKmN7vYENsS_FbXLrV4zLfghp6BPMsaniL861uyZjNuvbP63dYwM9wAWMgPo5bLfE8F4ZHC4iAO__7fvQkw3ky4b79nlGlNGeUh-2vaJwssADnPYlcqWrfDKfI/s1600/volta.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6POA6SYU7kc8z6X7kGGVKmN7vYENsS_FbXLrV4zLfghp6BPMsaniL861uyZjNuvbP63dYwM9wAWMgPo5bLfE8F4ZHC4iAO__7fvQkw3ky4b79nlGlNGeUh-2vaJwssADnPYlcqWrfDKfI/s400/volta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454234998014086978" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Of course, this was just one half of the humongous batch</span></div><br />Also, our balcony continued to deliver amazing sunsets and we continued to appreciated them:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicjgorcN_jKTbq9rH0DW754QW2KFvoJb2WfuFhsvuvhb0ELh2R1ig7Ev5ysJKVUJ-noUib0lA_Cr4Dz36ZxKRsXbgcoC5uPW9mZOu_D0I6_wcEMST2bkdgpA0Lm0LhxRisLjjcB57w6K1M/s1600/brillante.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicjgorcN_jKTbq9rH0DW754QW2KFvoJb2WfuFhsvuvhb0ELh2R1ig7Ev5ysJKVUJ-noUib0lA_Cr4Dz36ZxKRsXbgcoC5uPW9mZOu_D0I6_wcEMST2bkdgpA0Lm0LhxRisLjjcB57w6K1M/s400/brillante.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454234925936699218" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I need to set the camera up to automatically capture these</span></div><br />The biggest news in October is that Belu and I celebrated one year of dating, and did so in style. First, on the actual date, we hit up Bengal, a fancy Indian-ish joint, and then topped off the celebration with a trip to the Park Hyatt (aka, the most posh place in this city). Speaking of posh, here's Belu living it up in a wing chair with a pricey cocktail.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEI2dWvTaJSTpInHjf0njTXBwdjcx5UKAfUtMstsRU6vZtKw7zIm0S4df1_TirzJtQ0cN7ipwZhGNRuWL-Y_LXflcfzRK05Xs-DT4m20UesogHO_7ffy8QPcyUS9NM1Fj65iUnI0f91A3v/s1600/posh.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEI2dWvTaJSTpInHjf0njTXBwdjcx5UKAfUtMstsRU6vZtKw7zIm0S4df1_TirzJtQ0cN7ipwZhGNRuWL-Y_LXflcfzRK05Xs-DT4m20UesogHO_7ffy8QPcyUS9NM1Fj65iUnI0f91A3v/s400/posh.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454236693847107346" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">She's really out of my league</span></div><br />She surprised me with a trip to the Four Seasons in Carmelo, Uruguay. This was one of the fanciest places I'd been, and we had a nearly perfect weekend. What went wrong? It rained the entire time. I know people say this a lot and tend to exaggerate. I suppose I am doing the same. We arrived and had about 45 minutes of overcast skies. From that point on, it rained without a break for three straight days. So that was kind of a bummer. But we had a blast anyway. I'll let the photos tell the tale:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhicRwC8nZAcDUx4Fg-MVzcMsZd_Eccpy_gtMkUEb5IAmLYnNHjMygb3a5NfR_AdlL8Bl2uUUgL9IWCr22ZwjQhlm2rG0CAjiVfIfhz9B_-CuSm1DopmnUo4IfFhKjLx9a-vXH5uh08g90/s1600/alfajores.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhicRwC8nZAcDUx4Fg-MVzcMsZd_Eccpy_gtMkUEb5IAmLYnNHjMygb3a5NfR_AdlL8Bl2uUUgL9IWCr22ZwjQhlm2rG0CAjiVfIfhz9B_-CuSm1DopmnUo4IfFhKjLx9a-vXH5uh08g90/s400/alfajores.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454240323559022162" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Some first class alfajores were awaiting us in the room.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3L_exzha0iiTMZ1uPuywoIegwivYPgwdBbA9S49oSwAvRLsoaC3K2JCq1udtkDF_Zb8dKMTyUDCIvRGiS3pjEKzYubQF7kYdrdmTBZtkstRfgJkDfCHRlNFEMlv1_AlKcTd_NyPPJcKzL/s1600/pileta.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3L_exzha0iiTMZ1uPuywoIegwivYPgwdBbA9S49oSwAvRLsoaC3K2JCq1udtkDF_Zb8dKMTyUDCIvRGiS3pjEKzYubQF7kYdrdmTBZtkstRfgJkDfCHRlNFEMlv1_AlKcTd_NyPPJcKzL/s400/pileta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454240483870832930" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The beautiful pool we never tried</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPmBT1I5YBGTI47vgx05pOK1hA9P__Ru4NOi_spYJ54xoGgWVI49YeBS3eJBojksQzFpnB0j4fZGaDDlDlxuX3zENeuEs1pbWfvLcRzB-37MFxGB6PCg9QnfgS26bDfYwxnjOBKooq11h/s1600/boris.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPmBT1I5YBGTI47vgx05pOK1hA9P__Ru4NOi_spYJ54xoGgWVI49YeBS3eJBojksQzFpnB0j4fZGaDDlDlxuX3zENeuEs1pbWfvLcRzB-37MFxGB6PCg9QnfgS26bDfYwxnjOBKooq11h/s400/boris.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454240598791529906" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We named him Boris</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Tz23UUZeflCOoMV8wjgMYRCvs4l9KuTu1N2i2jLvFPF09ur2Xa9KUPap8CmeyuvrZAcZSxGd69uqsIdvat3x2tzesTO3g6vrq8gQJ9Sac4qC1xbkJnC8LcmG3vgjVY3IUVkjhKm6xEG4/s1600/boris2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Tz23UUZeflCOoMV8wjgMYRCvs4l9KuTu1N2i2jLvFPF09ur2Xa9KUPap8CmeyuvrZAcZSxGd69uqsIdvat3x2tzesTO3g6vrq8gQJ9Sac4qC1xbkJnC8LcmG3vgjVY3IUVkjhKm6xEG4/s400/boris2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454240697148796578" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Belu gave up her cat because of my allergies. Looks like she's not ready to take Boris in.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianzF3HHTO_OwWtiI0honcNVOhvmk9rUOe4agtmn9SRXNoYjahUQiRTD6Ojpoj1Ea3paRXobPusykzIz2-zopfzsMC9xiZ6U6yB4t0XXItyepkSh-Yi-wgE_tnM9FVWQVBICf-WEfzwlrT/s1600/claudia.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianzF3HHTO_OwWtiI0honcNVOhvmk9rUOe4agtmn9SRXNoYjahUQiRTD6Ojpoj1Ea3paRXobPusykzIz2-zopfzsMC9xiZ6U6yB4t0XXItyepkSh-Yi-wgE_tnM9FVWQVBICf-WEfzwlrT/s400/claudia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454240874634609122" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Claudia - profesora de Mate estilo Uruguayo</span></div><br />Take up residence in Buenos Aires and before too long, you will spot some people drinking their <span style="font-style:italic;">mate</span> in a peculiar way. That way is to hug the thermos like it's your favorite stuffed animal. Also, to bring the mate with you wherever you go. But the question remained - why do they do these things? Turns out they're related. In Uruguay, the mate is meant to be enjoyed no matter where you are. At work, home, on the road, while walking, riding a horse, whatevs. In Argentina it is meant to be shared, and generally drunk at home or in the office. So let's say you're riding a bicycle and want to drink some mate. You need to be able to pour water into the gourd, but you need to keep a hand on the handlebars. Thus, you have to be able to manager you mate with only one limb. And this is where the tradition of toting the thermos around like Kitty Carryall began. Or so the legend goes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikVHrBAAlC5eEwrfBHi91hgHc7zIPtYhVFIzjhI5XXYbQa8lrrSf7XExPB388Gq0oXuEiL3er6J5eWm1U1mKzuQeo5jSThrgyA3QxNQt0PNQgYOzle7gKYzlm6nB1lKMuu-UdZ53BlKZCL/s1600/guayo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikVHrBAAlC5eEwrfBHi91hgHc7zIPtYhVFIzjhI5XXYbQa8lrrSf7XExPB388Gq0oXuEiL3er6J5eWm1U1mKzuQeo5jSThrgyA3QxNQt0PNQgYOzle7gKYzlm6nB1lKMuu-UdZ53BlKZCL/s400/guayo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454240959554192034" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">My best attempt at the Uruguayan technique.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB55wH93Q6lGU1cZEeSf2MuQ3R4QjAQe3uxaADKmZu2Z-edBhnGJq2LM3t6Sw7x4s-zLZgxSxSF-i6kO5upzR1rcwNFYMqVsMN2Hj5ao5fI6p420sivalR-zB-jF4bB1Kp8cQOi_YkCafk/s1600/senorbraga.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB55wH93Q6lGU1cZEeSf2MuQ3R4QjAQe3uxaADKmZu2Z-edBhnGJq2LM3t6Sw7x4s-zLZgxSxSF-i6kO5upzR1rcwNFYMqVsMN2Hj5ao5fI6p420sivalR-zB-jF4bB1Kp8cQOi_YkCafk/s400/senorbraga.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454241062527392050" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Alfajor classes. Note the name on my hat.</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQ0PjzgHEf_N6F5xxbDpf3pj_17zqhzKZks5A1s5DiIMwgWQgDCU1DryRcIQGmR6U9bSENDNOADNoihOFwtf9Wd0PARxfo3WISMUwGZV46ZLOHi6dFhtuA8oJzB02HFxCCnhrYg-dxO8y/s1600/lluvia.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQ0PjzgHEf_N6F5xxbDpf3pj_17zqhzKZks5A1s5DiIMwgWQgDCU1DryRcIQGmR6U9bSENDNOADNoihOFwtf9Wd0PARxfo3WISMUwGZV46ZLOHi6dFhtuA8oJzB02HFxCCnhrYg-dxO8y/s400/lluvia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454241144988632066" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Our constant companion - rain. We wuz robbed!</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuCL-KWwnG0nwd3e6rRhXJLb_7dAb61YszkM64nb5oWqivKIBOvAMAVTEs-QSJSOsH0stxIlD-clinTbhT4D-7mS27_rTtPPPs5VLIgFd-jdDBgmFXkC_gtZXmLvQyeW_-kUNrUW86TmpU/s1600/suite.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuCL-KWwnG0nwd3e6rRhXJLb_7dAb61YszkM64nb5oWqivKIBOvAMAVTEs-QSJSOsH0stxIlD-clinTbhT4D-7mS27_rTtPPPs5VLIgFd-jdDBgmFXkC_gtZXmLvQyeW_-kUNrUW86TmpU/s400/suite.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454244193451111938" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">But with a gorgeous suite like this, who can complain?</span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNckIThFtjvr59bip-ZrEC2mfh2F_yiPMLRIsa2DCAmvs_Xkw4luU5eDQRsrhhfobMEqeXtb3IT0N4Nibpuqum3SuzV77DtxLyN-6ljXQRfs0YHxEHtov_6Pd0EUJHTwDKv65YJgl1KLAl/s1600/tub.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNckIThFtjvr59bip-ZrEC2mfh2F_yiPMLRIsa2DCAmvs_Xkw4luU5eDQRsrhhfobMEqeXtb3IT0N4Nibpuqum3SuzV77DtxLyN-6ljXQRfs0YHxEHtov_6Pd0EUJHTwDKv65YJgl1KLAl/s400/tub.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454244294138838450" /></a><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Quite simply the biggest bathtub I have ever seen... Who needs a pool?</span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Other writing from October:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/10/top-50-albums-of-00s-45-animal.html">Top 50 Albums: #45 - Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavillion</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/10/top-50-albums-of-00s-44-jose-gonzalez.html">Top 50 Albums: #44 - José González - In Our Nature</a></span><br /><br /><a name="data:post.title" id="data:post.url" onmouseover="'return" onmouseout="addthis_close()" onclick="return addthis_sendto()"><img src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/lg-share-en.gif" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ;" width="125" border="0" height="16" /></a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/152/addthis_widget.js"></script></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-6942074755033405782010-03-24T18:20:00.003-03:002010-03-24T18:24:15.750-03:00Video from Ultimate ArgentinaThis is just a taste of what's coming when we get to Catching Up November (coming eventually). I'm only in this video a <span style="font-style:italic;">leetle</span> bit, but for those who speak Spanish, it's a spot-on overview of what we are trying to accomplish here accompanied by some excellent footage. Bien hecho, Santi! (And everyone else who was involved.)<br /><br />Please enjoy responsibly:<br /><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KJfZyisoPWw&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KJfZyisoPWw&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-6361233451120891802010-03-21T13:11:00.001-03:002010-03-21T23:40:48.555-03:00Catching Up: September<div><script type="text/javascript">var addthis_pub="fishbone97";</script>September was when things started to become impossibly busy, and also the time this (and my other two blogs) fell apart. But there are reasons for that. The overarching event in September was my moving in with a girlfriend for the first time. I haven't moved much since my college days, and the last one was such a whirlwind (moving down here), that I couldn't really remember the details. I was suddenly reminded of what a pain in the ass it is to move, and I wasn't even leaving my building.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgme8ToYet8PI_7B0aHoMPWAjkd-geivWR2DBj9xosAMPMYvc9lXoL-8zayBiN1HlA1Y9XxxGS76orDFlc2NbraNcFCiEy0JMPfpb3S2GLenCbH0W6FkSpMxJbIzJDx3x-yu43yuWaTFp3g/s1600-h/neighborhood.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgme8ToYet8PI_7B0aHoMPWAjkd-geivWR2DBj9xosAMPMYvc9lXoL-8zayBiN1HlA1Y9XxxGS76orDFlc2NbraNcFCiEy0JMPfpb3S2GLenCbH0W6FkSpMxJbIzJDx3x-yu43yuWaTFp3g/s400/neighborhood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451279366642569586" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The new neighbors - same as the old neighbors, but with a different angle.</span></span></div><br />After looking at 20 or so places around the neighborhood, Belu and I decided that we were most satisfied with the penthouse suite atop the same corner of the same high-rise I was already living in. It was a bit smaller than we wanted, but the spacious balcony and sublime view of the Rio de la Plata more than outweighed the concerns over where we were going to put all of our stuff.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPVUsdUjfTLJWYzjftPWYgFw-RSLDALvpMyMIppJHWRS95GhxMaRR79c94SBw4CxI9ElmRkkBFachJhhxZe0a695ZptL445Kq-7wj5CSc_NI1cIRunF28C0ms2bpvNRyBibnqD0n_fnSx/s1600-h/fridge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPVUsdUjfTLJWYzjftPWYgFw-RSLDALvpMyMIppJHWRS95GhxMaRR79c94SBw4CxI9ElmRkkBFachJhhxZe0a695ZptL445Kq-7wj5CSc_NI1cIRunF28C0ms2bpvNRyBibnqD0n_fnSx/s400/fridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451279421402185954" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Martin and Mike showing that the Big Red family is not afraid to lend a hand, even with a heavy fridge.</span></span></div><br />Of course, my part of the move was relatively easy. I had only brought a small portion of my belongings from Chicago, and the elevator was going to do most of the work. Some of my friends from Big Red helped me with the big stuff, and I had three weeks of overlap to get the rest. Belu, however, did not have it so easy. She had been living alone for years, and accumulated, well, probably not as much as I had in my ten years in Chicago, but enough to fill some space. Most impressive was the sheer quantity of shoes. We counted something like 60 pairs in total, and that was after a dozen were given away to charity.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHCVsyt4gVSpLURSI0-J0og56JI5ZIHuFA0jQJp2_4TbAk5jh8IW8w2wWcsY16x9pn3MAHIjp5PORMdmA1t2hPvn6A8Suil9gNQr1guc2YDaoNjEeIo90fOHR5r839bEgrBhnWXUSQktm/s1600-h/zapatos.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHCVsyt4gVSpLURSI0-J0og56JI5ZIHuFA0jQJp2_4TbAk5jh8IW8w2wWcsY16x9pn3MAHIjp5PORMdmA1t2hPvn6A8Suil9gNQr1guc2YDaoNjEeIo90fOHR5r839bEgrBhnWXUSQktm/s400/zapatos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451279130264784482" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">This is the zapatos' room.</span></span></div><br />Clearly, solutions were needed. We hunted all over the city for the correct furniture, and that was without need for a bed or sofa. Over the following weeks, we selected a table, chairs, a desk, chest of drawers, additional closet, deck furniture, futon, washing machine, and a very capable shoe-storage thingy which currently holds 36 of the pairs. Unfortunately, the guy building the thingy (me) wasn't quite so capable, and one side now has "customized exposed plywood." At least that's how it would be sold if it was real estate. The whole experience was no picnic. Many deliveries arrived pre-broken and had to be returned, making the process that much harder.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTIOM5qYFydUegw4BOfeGxYiNwgXwCzkehqkPgo_ebd1hlKEscqMD5Uod14V9894EdIMNrdR8DQqILxxv7BvhA4o-tA9Q_MwRqCoMCHjjrVcIc_yGSMTFXYH0_WmsBLpKMVcXhG0xVYHpL/s1600-h/rays.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTIOM5qYFydUegw4BOfeGxYiNwgXwCzkehqkPgo_ebd1hlKEscqMD5Uod14V9894EdIMNrdR8DQqILxxv7BvhA4o-tA9Q_MwRqCoMCHjjrVcIc_yGSMTFXYH0_WmsBLpKMVcXhG0xVYHpL/s400/rays.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451279246583875442" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">We tend to get some amazing clouds up here.</span></span></div><br />But all of this paled in comparison to the fight we had with DirecTV. Unfortunately (well, fortunately for anyone reading this), I can't recall all of the frustrating details. They jerked us around for weeks, finally came out to see us only because Belu e-mailed the company's head of the Southern Cone (Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay, and Bolivia). When they arrived, we were told that the phone line was not digitized, therefore they couldn't install internet. They also, therefore, could not install DirecTV because we had ordered them together. That, more than anything else, led to the demise of my online writing and a hell of a lot of other frustrations. We switched to cable-based TV and internet and have been marginally satisfied ever since. In sum, DirecTV totally sucks and you should never give them any of your money. Plus, if it's raining the dish doesn't work anyway, and those are the times you really want to watch TV.<br /><br />But nowadays, most of the kinks are worked out, and we live in tranquility on one of Buenos Aires' highest floors. All that pain in September has paid off.<br /><br />I leave you with a video that I kept thinking about as I was building the shoe-storage-thingy. The Peach Cobbler. Enjoy!<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_z7YYec_66M&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_z7YYec_66M&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqAprTAih5WClNC7pGHjUCq7BHjVx4PJcc3KWLt_x9sJ15SINC5jhIEkKE_8Vedz-z2d_2S05ySSH-BqRrv13iw9tyy5g_LPh3hQofcPMhtd0vZtB3Jx0qupQWnGWhcdmiXqGxn__FVVm/s1600-h/wow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqAprTAih5WClNC7pGHjUCq7BHjVx4PJcc3KWLt_x9sJ15SINC5jhIEkKE_8Vedz-z2d_2S05ySSH-BqRrv13iw9tyy5g_LPh3hQofcPMhtd0vZtB3Jx0qupQWnGWhcdmiXqGxn__FVVm/s400/wow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451279027753613458" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">More fancy cloudwork.</span></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4rk3qRZ6xPwMB1KOnQRT3uoaXnl2Bj-D7CMu0nkREWLmXcaHfvReum7jGwaXjwhPH7D3A_GcKK9svWvSnpSqXuTJ13NN5zvBJtWk2CEsJgh8Sx3LLnOeAOrt-GGdLKP62oWkgMtF1R1U/s1600-h/gnite.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4rk3qRZ6xPwMB1KOnQRT3uoaXnl2Bj-D7CMu0nkREWLmXcaHfvReum7jGwaXjwhPH7D3A_GcKK9svWvSnpSqXuTJ13NN5zvBJtWk2CEsJgh8Sx3LLnOeAOrt-GGdLKP62oWkgMtF1R1U/s400/gnite.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451278887668178018" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">And we get to see the sun set every day.</span></span></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Other writing from September:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/09/top-50-albums-of-00s-46-caribou-andorra.html">Top 50 Albums: #46 - Caribou - Andorra</a><br /><a href="http://roadgames07.blogspot.com/2009/09/on-deals.html">On Deals</a> (an examination of Argentine futbol and Michigan football in darker and sunnier times, respectively)</span><br /><br /><a name="data:post.title" id="data:post.url" onmouseover="'return" onmouseout="addthis_close()" onclick="return addthis_sendto()"><img src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/lg-share-en.gif" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ;" width="125" border="0" height="16" /></a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/152/addthis_widget.js"></script></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758901750248396633.post-67268243987876787322010-03-08T21:38:00.000-03:002010-03-08T21:38:00.212-03:00Catching Up: August<div><script type="text/javascript">var addthis_pub="fishbone97";</script>August proved to be an extremely busy month. Pretty much all I did was work and look for apartments, with a little bit of Ultimate and blogging thrown in for good measure. I am honestly trying to remember if I did anything else.<br /><br />However, the month did kick off in exciting fashion. Because we were in Chicago for Belu's birthday, and because we couldn't settle on a date for celebrating here, she decided to skip the celebration. Well, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and throw a surprise party. This was harder, but the execution went perfectly thanks to a lot of help from Belu's friends. I told Belu we were having dinner with Mike and Kyla in Chinatown. Everyone came over to my house to prepare. When I arrived at Belu's to pick her up, I feigned illness. We would have to go back to my place to take precaution because of my cat allergy. Belu, concerned for my well-being, insisted we return to my apartment. Then this happened:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxg61ya4mcryBSK6hlL5iyOR8Jqrp3aIdyxJBwC1e1Iy5R67dV5fhktLTXfDyBJk22XQ4sgCJ6V4b-qKywCGQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />In sum, it worked perfectly. More importantly, Belu had a great time, which was of course the whole point.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XlCSwfGQzQF-7T9HgEzCLbTW0t7a5fEmnVRt_qddJpTO3oYqUoVOhjdNveHoOamJUgjtOhIB1bJTIIwQYOleQ6QWUtMu7tKbCI0eyqetpmtjqBgeIcnZJxa0aWZf2ZpfZRoF4nhGD6D1/s1600-h/heyladies.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XlCSwfGQzQF-7T9HgEzCLbTW0t7a5fEmnVRt_qddJpTO3oYqUoVOhjdNveHoOamJUgjtOhIB1bJTIIwQYOleQ6QWUtMu7tKbCI0eyqetpmtjqBgeIcnZJxa0aWZf2ZpfZRoF4nhGD6D1/s320/heyladies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446110830142091362" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Belu and the girls. And Mati.</span><br /><br /></span></div>At the end of the month (or maybe the beginning of September, I can't recall), a work trip to England granted me the opportunity to stop over for a couple days in Amsterdam to visit Brad and Natalia. That took me (briefly) out of a particularly stressful period at work, and no we didn't go to a coffee shop. But riding a bicycle around town is a treat rarely offered in Buenos Aires. Follow that up with a boat cruise around the canals and you have a really chill couple of days. Thanks to my hosts for taking care of it all, and sorry the visit was so brief.<br /><br />We move on to the bigger news in September. Hopefully I will get some more catch-up time soon!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Other writing from August:<br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/08/top-ten-worst-cartoon-remakes.html">Top Ten Worst Cartoon Remakes</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/08/to-b-back-and-forth-review-public.html">Brad and I review Public Enemies</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/08/top-50-albums-of-2000s-overview.html">Kicking off the top 50 Albums of the 2000s</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/08/top-50-albums-of-00s-50-rival-schools.html">Album #50: Rival Schools - United by Fate</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/08/top-50-albums-of-00s-49-at-drive-in.html">#49: At the Drive-In: Relationship of Command</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/08/top-50-albums-of-00s-48-shout-out-louds.html">#48: Shout Out Louds - Howl Howl Gaff Gaff</a><br /><a href="http://fightingtheyouth.blogspot.com/2009/08/top-50-albums-of-00s-47-mastodon-crack.html">#47: Mastodon - Crack the Skye</a><br /></span><br /><a name="data:post.title" id="data:post.url" onmouseover="'return" onmouseout="addthis_close()" onclick="return addthis_sendto()"><img src="http://s7.addthis.com/static/btn/lg-share-en.gif" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ;" width="125" border="0" height="16" /></a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://s7.addthis.com/js/152/addthis_widget.js"></script></div>Reedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14989379631083901130noreply@blogger.com0