Drugstore Gaucho

Tomorrow I am to go to a Goth/heavy-metal club. The place opens at two. Its called Reaxxion. I will report on my presumed return. Intrepid Nathan

I feel an obligation to tell you all about my trip to Salta last week and to share my pictures with you, but as I get farther from that time, my desire to do so fades. My daily adventures are interesting right now. I will therefore spray about some pictures and explain them as much as I feel like and hopefully you'll get some kind of sense about how it was. Lets do some buildings: These are all churches. This last one is in the main square of Salta, the 9 de julio or as I prefer to pronounce it, the nine duh hoolio. People buzz around in the plaza during all hours of the day. It's got to be the only urban green space I've been in where people aren't cautioning my about the transvestites that come out at night. Can you find whitey? I actually didn't leave Salta much. I found way too much fun hanging out with the international/interesting people to be found at the hostel. I was given steak by one group of people, but they turned out to be evangelical Christians, damn

I'm returned from Salta. A grueling twenty hour bus ride that began with my favorite element of the human world. Babies. I'm sure most of my readers are familiar with my hatred for these larval humans, but in case there is a Nathan-novitiate out there, I will summarize: Babies are fat, bald, poorly-proportioned sub-humans who have few basic functions which they accomplish with alarming efficiency. They eat, they shit, they grow, they cry, and they rob you of all time which you might have spent on improving yourself or the world around you. I cheered when my asshole 10th grade English teacher got a kid and I combat daily the biological clocks of people upon whom I don't wish a fate worse than death. I am happy hating children and waiting for the day I am old enough to get a vasectomy. My spreading reputation prevents me from having much contact with them, but in Argentina, it seems, the fools are still reproducing. And worse yet, they are putting them on buses. My bus. My 20

Hey Gentle Readers, I thought that I´d make a mini-post about where I am and whats going on because cora gets sad if I don´t post all the time. I´m in Salta, which is in the Andes-influenced north of argentina. People are much browner and friendlier than they are in Buenos Aires. Also, they think my United states heritage is something special, which is a nice change. I went on all day trip yesterday to the Quebrada de Humauaca (sp?) which is an UNESCO site known for its scenic beauty. It is really unique. The mountains are composed of crazy colors. When I get back to my laptop, I will post some landscape fotos that you can yawn at. I love the pueblitos, which are these farming towns that run up and down the valley. Adobe houses thrown together from miscellanious parts, corrogated steel doors etc. I suppose that its poverty by some definition, but the people seem to be satisfied. There are few beggars etc. I´ve met many people here. Ignacio from Chile, Mariana who works at this hostel,

Finally, a return to wordy form. Enjoy this immense update and imagine my sister wincing at my egregious offenses against concision. This last weekend, I went to Iguazú Falls, set piece of the new Indiana Jones movie, Xth natural wonder of the world, and damn far away. Yes, Iguazú is hardly a short trip on the Subte away. Iguazú National Park is located in a little itty-bitty piece of Argentina that pokes in Brazil, near as I can tell, to have Iguazú Falls be in Argentina. No, no, this trip helped me realize the gigantic nature of the country I live in. It also let me get out of Buenos Aires. Good. I rode some 16 hours on gigantic, double-decker bus, referred to, interestingly, as a micro. I could be wrong about that, Argentine Spanish appears to have a robust vocabulary for referring to buses with at least three distinct names for buses that have distinct functions. Whatever. This trip was punctuated with, first, a trip to Jesuit ruins in the region of Posados, capital city of aforeme

This is Nathan Lane, your funky-fresh maniacal-magical plane-hopping, jaw-dropping world-traveler extraordinaire servin' it to you fresh from the high-rises of Buenos Aires. This just in from the scene, cats. The good people of this fair land have taken to the balconies, banging pots and pans to air some political sentiment, taken the fight to the roofs, if you will. You heard me right. Argentina's cacerolazo has reared its ferrous head and breathed some fire into the political scene. In the midst of ongoing domestic agro-political crisis, an important vote was on the precipice of stalling when the people took up a fashionable tradition and stood on their balconies and banged pots and pans. The fence-sitting senator quickly decided voted in favor of the legislation. The most famous of these cacerolazos ended in the resignation of the then-president, so take it seriously, friends. I don't wanna give the impression that the country is in revolt around me, but there are gathe

Here are some pictures! Yay! From my trip to San Telmo! Yay! San Telmo is a grungier (marginally) part of the city whose low rent attracts backpackers, foreigners and young people. It is most famous for the transvestites that inhabit its parks at night and its Sunday antique/whatever market. I got pictures of one of those things. Most of the Market runs up and around this street called la Defensa. There are some portions where it is indoors. This is the most picturesque, says me. The structure is way old, from the late 1700s, I think. Could be earlier. Formerly a residence, now a little market. There was a couple tango shops and some leather stores. One of which was selling a large orange and black number. Where they found the orange cow, I dunno. It was raining that day, so all my photos will be plagued by ugly skies and blurs resulting from shutter-speeds that are too long. But you all demanded photos, therefore, I delivered. Here is a blurry picture of shoes, for my sister, and othe

I should probably try and update my blog on a daily basis, cause much has happened since we last spoke. Saturday Hit up Museo de Belles Artes ( Artes Belles) with my friend Aaron who is from New Zealand. Saw many works by my boy, the one, the only argument for French culture, Rodin. I get emotional looking at Rodin. Hand of God is a work I saw. It's a disembodied hand holding a piece of rock that a lip-locked couple are emerging out of. Clearly, Rodin has been to a city park in Buenos Aires . But seriously though, a the Hand of God holds what? People swirling about and making out as they are created from a piece of stone? That's pretty badass , Rodin, keep up the good work. Also, a mega sweet temporary exhibit called Peppermint Candy from South Korea, or Corea del Sur . It was a collection of artists largely from Seoul being funky and fresh. It was all cleverly presented. Content-wise, it was mostly about the identity crisis of being Korean which apparently manifests it

Happy Fourth of July, World! This has been a hell of a day. First, all the idiots in my Spanish class skipped today to celebrate America, therefore my Spanish class was way better than usual. (It's amazing how missing 5 hours of botched pronunciation can improve your mood). Then after Spanish class, I had my weekly meeting with Paula, my Spanish tutor/cultural adviser, who assured me that, yes, ISA students do make friends with Argentines, though it takes some fuerza and voluntud (force and will). This is contrary to the opinion of my host mother, who has observed that exchange students primarily make friends with other exchange students. Paula assured me that pursuing things like Capoeira classes and jam sessions are the things that will net me friends. Paula also explained to me that its the norm for female people to avoid eye contact with the menfolk while walking on the streets. That had really been digging into my self-confidence. Walking down the streets, I was beginning to f

A while since an update, how bout news of a success? Monday I went to go be at the capoiera thing. That was pretty cool. I got there early, nobody there, I waited around some students apparated , no Mario , the teacher. I eventually got the gumption to go be with the students. As soon as I showed up, they began warm-ups and I joined them. It's hilarious how much taller than everyone I am. We did partner stretches and the poor bastard trying to stretch my legs had to raise it above his head and stand on his tip-toes. I got a wrist brace at the local Farmacity to protect myself, I hope that works. When Mario came in, he smiled and gave me a thumbs up. He seemed surprised that I showed up. He later explained to the class the nature of our chance meeting in the street and said that I search for capoeira and that means I got a buen actitud . Mario knows who mestre azulao is and-- OH! I forgot to mention. First joke! Primer chiste made. It was a defensive maneuver made on the fl