Catching Up: December

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.

December was another very busy month at work, the end of the year is always re ocupado for us. But more exciting than that was that Brad came in from Amsterdam for an extended visit. Though we failed to take in a movie together, Belu and I took him to all the hotspots we could. We made it to Guido's, visited Josh and Julia selling their home-baked goods on the street in San Telmo, walked the ecological preserve, forced Brad to try Fernet (went poorly) and medialunas (went very well), and even found time to use the tennis court here.

I think Brad liked these facturas even more than his bigote.

Belu and I hosted our first Christmas dinner, and it came off without a hitch. Vitel toné, matambre de pollo, ensalada rusa, two other types of salads, an a cake that was basically a gigantic almendrado 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 fuegos artificiales, 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.

Did I mention that it's summer in December here?

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.

Brad, mustache free, at the reservoir in Parque San Martin in Mendoza city.

A gigantic monument to General San Martin atop the park named after him.

The view from said top of said park.

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.

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!).

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.

I mean, look at this view!. And we were just getting started.

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.

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?

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.

Puente del Inca. A natural wonder. The rocks get their color due to an underground spring.

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.

If only this were a river of chocolate milk (like it looks), I never would have left!

A whole lot of wine in those barrels.

Brad got his turn holding the cameras, too. I can't remember what cracked him up here, but I promise it was something hilarious.

In the Bonfanti tasting room

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...

Brad atop his friend, Pancho, a horse lacking the desire to listen to Brad's directions.

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."

"Ayyyyy." (No, that's not my hat, but I want one.)

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.

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 many photos) on the next edition of "Catching Up."

Other writing from December:
Top 50 Albums #39: Hot Water Music - Caution
Top 50 Albums #38: The National - Boxer

Catching Up: November, Part II

The taxista 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...

As promised in Part I, 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 Torneo Eterna Primavera 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 Team Truco to a country entirely new for me.

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.

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.

Team Argentina "before"

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 celeste y blanco. 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.

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 salpicón de frutas. 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.

Some exotic fruit whose name I can't recall, but the flavor was exquisite

Even more impressive than the produce was the onda 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.

Martin rolled up in the banner for some good reason

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.

Emi snatches the disc for a score (photo by Mike)

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 pecho frio 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.

I did 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)

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.

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, aguardiente, papas rellenas (con salsa picante!), 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.

Team Truco "after"

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 anfitrión could possibly be asked to do. Un abrazo fuerte a todos. Vamos Truco!!!

Catching Up: November, Part I

I often think back to a conversation I had in Monte Hermoso during our celebratory asado with Josh 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.

That's a fine-lookin' league!

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 best 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 "his vida" 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.

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, detailing Big Red's triumphant fall campaign. 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.

Martin shows that all those throwing practices have paid dividends

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 jugador 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.

Big Red = Buena onda

The half-time talk was almost as duro 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.

I am pretty sure I caught this disc - I just can't remember if it was with my hand or my mouth.

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.

The team can smell the win after Randall notches a crucial point

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 hard. 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 and Colombian feasting. So get ready, you.

The sweet taste of victory

Other writing from November:
Top 50 Albums #43 - Ladyhawk - Ladyhawk
Top 50 Albums #42 - Okkervil River - Black Sheep Boy
Top 50 Albums #41 - Gogol Bordello - Gypsy Punks
A to B Back and Forth Review: Inglorious Basterds
Top 50 Albums #40 - Eels - Daisies of the Galaxy
Down in a Hole - More frustrations for Michigan

Catching Up: October

To be honest, most of October pretty much followed the same as 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:

Did you know that Volta (one of the primo heladerias in Buenos Aires) was running a promotion whereby if you walked into one of their shops on the night that the Argentine National Soccer team 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.

Of course, this was just one half of the humongous batch

Also, our balcony continued to deliver amazing sunsets and we continued to appreciated them:

I need to set the camera up to automatically capture these

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.

She's really out of my league

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:

Some first class alfajores were awaiting us in the room.

The beautiful pool we never tried

We named him Boris

Belu gave up her cat because of my allergies. Looks like she's not ready to take Boris in.

Claudia - profesora de Mate estilo Uruguayo

Take up residence in Buenos Aires and before too long, you will spot some people drinking their mate 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.

My best attempt at the Uruguayan technique.

Alfajor classes. Note the name on my hat.

Our constant companion - rain. We wuz robbed!

But with a gorgeous suite like this, who can complain?

Quite simply the biggest bathtub I have ever seen... Who needs a pool?

Other writing from October:
Top 50 Albums: #45 - Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavillion
Top 50 Albums: #44 - José González - In Our Nature