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Cumbia Villera Part I

Hey Kiddies, I’m back, connecting local pizzeria el continental, which I’m told is a pizzeria buena buena buena. I’ve ordered a pizza fugazzetta rellena con queso cremoso, two pieces of fainá and a glass of moscato, a sweet wine which usually accompanies such things. There’ve been some major changes in my life. I cut my hair, for instance. I got a mullet. Soon this will be a dread mullet. I think that you’ve all had sufficient warning. It will be a dreadmullet, once I’ve accumulated the sufficient length. I’m almost done with all my papers and finals and crap, meaning that here comes the part of supplying my own diversion in or out of Buenos Aires. I’m planning on mostly out. The only thing keeping me in town is my bands performances on Sundays of every week. I’ve had better luck with las chicas outside of town anyway. I guess my reputation gets around. ;-) And finally, the achievement of the hour, my first ridiculous story accumulated in Spanish and told in Spanish. It’s a little some...
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News Flash!

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...
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I Finally Understand Why My Grandad Insists on Eating Steak and Potatoes.

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...
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