La Vida Con Deby

On The Road Again: Tourists in Bali - Tango in Buenos Aires

It has been a month since I left Bali.  My body left, my mind and soul, well, they might still be there.  I loved Bali.  It is such a special place.  I would love to go back and spend more time there.  It is one of those places I could see myself living if it were not for a big problem..you cannot bring animals into the country.  That means JerryBrown and Maxi. 

When I started planning my trip to Bali I had no idea what to expect.  I chose to stay in an Indonesian style guest house rather than a tourist oriented villa or hotel.  My hosts were a married couple with a child.  She is originally from Austria and he is Balinese.  They have been married 10 years.  Birgit came to Bali on vacation and fell in love..literally.

Their home is very traditional.  It has an outdoor kitchen, no air conditioning, and no swimming pool.  My bathroom was more modern and semi outside but private.  I had hot water one time during my stay.  I chose this guesthouse because I wanted to be a part of Balinese life.

There are plenty of hotels, guest houses, and villas owned by foreigners that are full of luxuries. (To be fair there are some owned by Indonesians) You can insulate yourself from Balinese life at whatever level you want.  Most have sanitized the Bali experience.

There are two distinct Balis.  There is the Bali that is lived in by the Balinese and the Bali that is for tourism.  I travel because I want to see another culture and learn.  Everyone has their reasons. 

Ubud is a center for health and healing.  It was made famous by that putrid book and movie (IMHO) "Eat Pray Love." In the eyes of many Balinese this book did a lot to ruin their culture.  It was interesting to talk to them about it.  I found many parallels to the tango in Buenos Aires.

When my guides took me to a roadside Warong (restaurant) that was fly infested, I closed my eyes.  I kept hoping the parasites from my days in Mexico would take care of me. The food was delicious.  There was no silverware as the Balinese eat with their hands.  It was the hot rice that would get me.  There is an actual art to eating with your hands.  I was happy that I didn't get sick from eating at that place. After that experience I figured I could eat anywhere and I did.

Most tourists pay for a tour for the Rice Walk.  This is a 5 km walk through the rice fields.  I walked myself.  It was amazing, peaceful, and something I never experienced before.  The sad thing is the walk begins with tons of little shops trying to sell things. Unfortunately this is everywhere you go in Bali, including the temples.

When I got to the middle of the fields there was an old man selling coconuts. He would lop off the top and hand it to you with a straw. It was 10,000 rupees or $1.00.  He told me how he shakes to the trees to get the coconuts to fall.  In a few moments two European tourists came by on their way to their expensive hotel that is situated in the rice fields.

I cannot imagine staying in a luxury villa watching people do back breaking labor. The villa is owned by a Swiss man according to my coconut friend.  The two women began to explain to me what a coconut was.  They were so condescending.  I told them I was from South America, I know what coconuts are.  They just keep going on talking about coconuts.  People in Switzerland must have coconuts. They told me the old man climbs up the tree every day to get his coconuts.  I looked at Mr. Coconut. There was no way he could climb that tree.  He smiled at me.  I bet they don't pay 10,000 rupees.

After they left Mr. Coconut invited me to sit down.  In his limited broken English he brought me over some lemon grass to smell.  Then some citron.  He was delighted I knew it would get rid of mosquitoes. He brought over fresh cumin plants and other herbs growing along side the rice.  We watched frogs play in the rice paddy.

When I finished my coconut juice he hacked open the coconut.  The flesh was more like meat.  I was used to coconuts that were harder.  This was a completely different texture. It was such a huge coconut I could not eat it all.  I wish I had a plastic bag on me.

My guides were a trip.  They were not polished.  They didn't drag me to any shopping outlets.  They had their opinions.  The waiter in my favorite restaurant Eve's Kitchen introduced me to them.  Scooby makes his living from tourists among other things.

"Bali has always had tourists."  He says to me. "Only the tourist now is different."  I asked him in what way.  He told me before the tourists came to Bali to enjoy Bali and to learn about Bali.  Now they come to be entertained.  They don't really want the real Bali.  They bicycles down a mountain.

Many Balinese that I spoke to talked about how they could no longer afford to go to yoga. The yoga masters no longer wanted to hold sessions for the Balinese.  Why should they? The tourists are willing to pay 100,000 rupees or more for a class.  There are yoga retreats for $2000 USD.  "Every day a new yoga master is born." they joked.

It reminded me of the tango in Buenos Aires.  Many Argentine teachers no longer want to teach Argentines.  Why should they?  Foreigners will pay 2 - 3 times more than a local for private lessons.  One only has to pick up the tango magazines to see all the new teachers.

When I found my accupuncturist it was by accident.  I had no idea if the 350,000 rupees he was charging me was a good price or not.  When I asked Birgit she told me that usually the foreigners are charged 500,000 rupees. Just like tango shoes or tango lessons.  Tourists are charged more than locals.  She said he was the best accupuncturist in Ubud and that I was lucky to find him.

She like the others I spoke to told me how many foreigners have now come to Ubud to set up shop.  Yoga teachers, acupuncturists, and other business people are starting to push out the Balinese from their own culture.

When I asked about a restaurant where the food was typical, Birgit's husband laughed.  "You have to go outside the city."  He told me.  "Here you can find Turkish food, Mexican food, Italian food, and a version of Balinese or Indonesian food.  The tourists have ruined our restaurants."  This reminds me of some of the older milongueros when they talk about the milongas.  They blame the tourists for ruining them.  For destroying the codes, lowering the levels of dance.

In the book "Eat Pray Love" the woman talks about going to a healer.  These people in Ubud are known by word of mouth.  They set no price.  People pay them whatever they can.  They feel their ability to heal is a gift and accept whatever donation people want to give them.  True healers never ask for money.

I was referred to Pitu.  He used reflexology.  He was amazing.  He was able to tell me exactly the issues I had with my health with no prompting from me.  In our sessions he would talk to me about my soul and visions.  It was an amazing experience.  I am still feeling the effects of his healing.

Now Ketut Lyer, the healer in EPL has gone commercial.  He charges a fixed amount and basically tells everyone the same thing.  He is an old man.  One person told me he just wants to earn lots of money to leave to his family.  People wait hours to hear the same thing and pay for the priviledge.

When I first came to Buenos Aires, it was not easy to find people who really taught tango. There were those that would rush you in the milongas, but most of them, were just after the tourist buck.  When one found the true milonguero who loved their tango, it was something different.  Most of them had no idea what to charge.  They loved to talk about their tango and show it to you.  To be paid for it?  Wow, that was something.

Times have changed.   If you are 75 years old you are a living legend.  Even if in your day you were not known as one of the better dancers, it doesn't matter.  You get marketed as a "true milonguero" and people pay you for it.

It is sad what success can do to a place.  The people who do not live there always see it differently.  Some tourists think the Balinese are now lucky because they are getting a more Western way of life.  More tourists and more money.  Many Balinese I spoke to see themselves as losing their culture.

In the tango I constantly hear from foreigners how the Argentines should be happy that their dance is everywhere.  That they should be willing to change.  The codes are stupid, old fashioned. 

It makes me sad.  I hope to never lose Bali, just as my tangos still play inside my head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On The Road Again: Why Do People Travel?

Why do people travel? You have to wonder sometimes.  Some people travel because they think it is something they should do.  They spend their time shopping. Others look for diversions they cannot find at home or is cheaper. And others look for culture, art, and history.

There is no right or wrong reason to travel.  I think any time you travel it should expand your world.   I am not sure it does for everyone.  For me travel is an amazing experience.  I love to connect with other cultures which includes the people, art, and history. 

I have always liked things that were different.  Travel gives me the ability to expand my desire to see different things.  I only wish that I had more money to travel whenever and where ever I like.  The world is so big and there is still so much to see.

One of the things I like most when I travel is to meet people. I don't think you can really know a place until you meet and talk to the people that live there.  I have been fortunate here in Bali to meet people and learn more about their culture.  The Balineese are a beautiful people.  They are very peaceful, respectful, and outwardly happy.

After being here a couple of days I wanted to eat something.  Most of the restaurants I was encountering were tourist oriented.  Places with names like "Taco House", "Pizza and Pasta and More" and others with Italian names.  Even the Balinese restaurants had full western menus. 

As I walked I noticed a place that said "Sulewasi Kitchen."  This looked a little more promising.  The staff welcomed me like an old friend.  This is normal for Balinese.  Well at least in my experience. I selected a fish dish and told them spicy was OK.  The array of fresh juices is dizzying.  This is one thing I really love about Bali.  Amazing fresh fruit juices for a cost of about $1.50 USD or less.

First I was brought fish chips and a sauce.  I am not supposed to eat the fish chips being celiac. I could not resist.  I wanted to taste the sauce.  It was a burst of flavor that is almost impossible to describe - sweet, sour, spicy. The manager came over to ask me how I was.  I told him the sauce was delicious.  He asked if I cooked.  I told him yes. 

Then they brought my main dish. This was spectacular.  Perfectly cut squares of fish swimming in a yellow sauce with vegetables. It was not a typical curry.  The flavor was amazing.  Delicate but intense. I know there was tumeric and maybe cumin, but I am not sure what else.  I could eat this dish every day.

When I finished the manager came over to talk to me.  He asked if he could sit down.  Balinese are very polite.  He asked where I was from.  What my life was like.  We talked for maybe 2 hours.  In the end he asked where I was going in Bali.  He offered his brother to take me anywhere I wanted. He called him and they set up a tour for a couple days at a very reasonable price.  Not traditional tourist prices.

Last night the restaurant had a grand opening.  They had a free buffet.  It was advertised in front of the restaurant.  You only had to buy your drinks.  The restaurant was full of Balinese.  I was the only one who was not Balinese. The food was spectacular.  There was all these amazing dishes I cannot begin to describe. 

The owner Eve who I met the other day was thrilled to see me.  She brought me things that were not on the buffet.  I was so stuffed it was uncomfortable. It would be impolite to say no, so I had to try everything she brought me.  The array of dishes - glutinous rice filled with tuna wrapped in a banana leaf or a chocolate rice dessert was to die for.

Across the road Taco Casa was filled with foreign tourists eating Mexican food made by Balinese.  Go figure.  You come all the way to Bali to eat Mexican food made by Balinese?  I don't get it.  Why would you do that?  Or Pizza at the place next door?  What is wrong with these people?  In Mexico the same people eat at Dennys. Buah!

During dinner Scooby (or Camu is his Indonesian name)  my driver friend came by on his motorcycle with a friend.  He was all dressed up Indonesian style with a sarong and turban.  He is a big guy and he and his friend looked a little scary.  I thought he was kidding, but later his brother confirmed, he is responsible for security of the village.  He joked with me as he ate.  Tomorrow is my last tour with him and the guy I call "Good Driver."  I am not sure where we will go.  I have some ideas.

As I walk back to my guesthouse several people call to me.  Not to buy tours, or taxis, but to say good night.  They say when you come to Bali you are already planning your next trip.  I completely understand why.

 

On The Road Again: East Meets West..Medicine

Anyone who knows me knows it is no surprise that my health has been less than perfect.  I have had days where I laid in bed and wondered if this is what the rest of my life is going to be like.  I am an energetic, optimistic person.  I don't like bad health.  It keeps me from doing the things I want to do.

Health care is a topic one can argue about all day long.  In Argentina I have one of the best insurance companies - OSDE.  I changed from Swiss Medical because I got tired of them and their attitude.  The insurance company is great..the doctors and the system is something else.

The good thing about the Argentine medical system is that you do not need to have a doctor refer you to another doctor.  The bad thing is that there is no one in control.  I have a general medical doctor and he is great.  However, if I am sick, I can't see him.  I have to go to an Urgent Care center called a guardia and see a doctor who knows nothing about me.  If I don't like that doctor, that is a problem.  Sometimes that doctor is an idiot and it means another trip to the guardia or another guardia until you get your problem resolved.

I also think doctors like to over prescribe medicine here.  I have had to fight with doctors about taking medicine I didn't want or think I needed.  This causes the doctor  to not want to see me any more.  I had one doctor stand up and yell at me and tell me he was the doctor.  Duh.

I had a pretty good idea of what my problems were.  The Internet can be a wonderful thing is used properly.  I went to 14 endocrinologists and not one would test my adrenals or pitutiary.  They only cared about 1 number.  My symptoms and how I felt were not important.  One doctor wanted to know why I took so many vitamins and told me to "stop it."  I never went back.

It is frustrating to go from doctor to doctor and not find one that will listen or at least do the tests.  Why?  One part is arrogance and the other part is financial.  Every time you see the doctor you sign a piece of paper.  The doctor gets paid.  So the more times you come back the more times he gets paid. Very simple.  He or she can take forever to diagnose you and in all that time be paid for it.  Business.

I am in Ubud.  It is the center of healing.  This is what Ubud has been known for.  The owner of my guest house recommended a reflexologist who is a healer to me.  She told me that it would hurt and it would take longer than one session.

Pitu is around 60 years old.  He has 2 wives and several children.  He is little wrinkled guy who looks like an elf.  He learned reflexology and healing from his father.  The healers in Ubud do not have set prices. You make a donation.  They also take their time.  They heal because they feel this is what God wants them to do.

In my first session he would press points and do reflexology not only with my feet, but on parts of my legs and hands.  At times he would go "Bad."  He does not speak much English.  He could not tell me why the parts are bad because his English is not good enough.  He would close his eyes after a "Bad" and breathe.  Then press somewhere else and shake his head.

In my next session he spent a lot of time on my feet.  It was very painful.  Then on several points.  He called over the woman I am staying with to explain my problems.  She says to me "You have problems with your adrenals, pituitary, and your intestines.  He is going to try and help you."  I had said nothing to Pitu about my health issues.  He hit them all right on.

Then he looked at me and said " Your headaches come from here." He pointed to my abdomen. I never told him I suffer from horrible migraines.  He said my intestines are very blocked.  He hoped that he could help me before I left.  "I want to fix you."  He smiled at me with the few teeth he still has.

A few days before I got one of my famous migraines.  At first I thought to go get a massage.  As I was walking I saw a sign for acupuncture.  I decided that might be a better course.  I walked in delirious in pain.

The doctor was a Chinese medical doctor.  He wanted to know my age and my problems.  All I could tell him was I had a horrible migraine and I have thyroid problems.  He asked me some questions about my headaches.  On the table he pressed several points, then more.  Then he pressed my abdomen.  Of course pain.  He looked at me "Why didn't you tell me you have problems with your digestion?"

I don't think I ever had so many needles in me.  First in the front of me for 20 minutes or more, then I turned over and on the back of me.  After the doctor said to me" Your stomach is blocked.  You have problems with your adrenals. Maybe your pituitary.  This is why you have headaches."  Then he asked me what my Western doctors said.  I laughed.  More about what they will not say.

I have had several treatments from both my Chinese medicine doctor and Pitu.  I am starting to feel better.  I wish that I could stay longer in Ubud just to be treated by them.  I don't think that it is just reflexology, it is the skill Pitu has as a healer.  I watch others do reflexology here in Ubud and it is not the same. 

I believe that Eastern medicine can help where Western medicine fails.  I feel that Western medicine has been failing me for years.  For the first time in a long time I am sleeping better.  I have more energy.  (I know that is in part to finding out I was celiac.) I am hoping to control my headaches.

I only hope that I can find someone to continue with in Buenos Aires.  The acupuncturist I was seeing is no longer there.  There are many chantas in Buenos Aires and that is why I was happy to come here to Ubud to start to find health.

 

 

 

On The Road Again: Bali Hai Is An Island..

I remember hearing the words of that song as a child.  Bali Hai.  An exotic place.  I never thought I would actually visit, yet here I am.  If I would have known what a paradise Bali is, I would have made my trip to Australia much shorter.  Bali is an amazing place.

I am in Ubud.  Ubud is in almost the center of the island.  It is a center for healing.  It is the place where the movie "Eat Pray Love" was made.  Something the locals have no love for.  It brought higher prices, unwanted tourism, and a type of tourist they just don't like.  It also priced the locals out of their own market at times.  In many ways, like tango.

I am staying in a guest house.  Birgit is from Austria, Graz.. and her husband Made is Balineese.  She came here 10 years ago and never left.  it is easy to see why.  I got that "come home feeling" the minute I started to walk around.  If I could get JerryBrown and Maxi into the country I would definitely think about it.  I had that "come home feeling" twice in my life - in San Francisco and in Buenos Aires.  But how can I leave "los demonios?"  I have been adopted by a stray kitten, but he is not my "kids" and I cannot take him back with me.  I will be sorry to leave him.  He greeted me on my first night in Bali.

I get up every morning around 6:30.  I am still getting up early.  I take a cold shower.  There is no hot water in my guest house.  At 8 Wayan comes to prepare me breakfast of fresh juice made from several different juices.  I have eggs and fresh ginger tea.  After I must decide what to do for the day.

My first day I walked as much of the city as I could.  I went to the Monkey Forest.  This is a huge national forest of monkeys who are hanging out in a national environment.  It is amazing. They are everywhere.  They swing from trees, run on the ground, play, and look for tourists to give them food.

There are signs everywhere annoncing what not to feed them.  I watched a fat French women giving the sugar wafer cookies which are forbidden, and then like a fool she gives the monkey the foil wrapper.  When she tries to get it back he hisses at her.  It just falls out of my mouth "Que boluda, que tonta, que hiciste? Estupida"  I hear a voice from behind me "Hey, Argentina'"

The tour group behind me was laughing.  They were from Argentina, Peru, and Colombia. The Argentines found me the funniest.  They never expected to hear Argentine Spanish in the middle of Bali and by a medio Portena. 

As I walked through the streets men would call out to me "Taxi" "Taxi Madame".  Sometimes they would be funny and say things like: "You look hot, you need to have a ride."  There was never anything rude.  The Balinese are very polite people.  Every shop or restaurant I passed people would say hello. Even when hawking massages,jewelery, or sarongs, they were still polite.

The quality of the things is not what one expects.  Ubud is a center for crafts.  There is lots of wood carvings, paintings, and sarongs.  Things made from Batik.  There is lots of junk.  You have to be careful.  There is silver but not the highest quality.

The food is amazing.  I love the Indonesian food.  They eat a lot of rice, coconut milk, spices.  There is not much variety, but I find it very good.  One of the owner's of a restaurant explains to me that the food is put together to be healthy.  He explains the significance of the rice, the spices.  His food is from Sulawesi.  It is different.  I love it.  Very spicey.

He asks me what my plans are for Bali and then offers me the services of his brother as a driver and guide.  Most want to charge me double or triple the price of what Gadu is quoting me.  We make a plan to meet in two days.  Here tourists are charged 4 times more than they should be.  You have to really befriend people.  Most people accept the prices because they are so cheap.

The day before I meet Gadu's brother I do the Rice Walk.  This is a hike to the rice fields.  It is a beautiful serene walk.  On the first part of the walk there are sidewalks that have been imprinted by people.  One man has written "Eat Pray Screw A Man's Guide to Fulfillment."  I walk for what seems like hours on a hot hot humid day.  Motorcycles pass me. 

I finally get to the rice fields.  There are people working in them.  It is amazing to watch.  I have never seen anything like it. People have actually built guesthouses here.  I come upon an old man selling coconuts. He asks if I would like one.  I tell him OK.  Two women come up to greet him.  They are idiots. Typical tourists.  They are staying in the guesthouse that charges over $100 a day.  It is owned by a Swiss man.  (The Coconut man tells me this later)

The tourists start to explain to me what a coconut is like I am stupid.  I am shocked.  They have a very condescending and arrogant manner.  I tell them I am from South America and we have coconuts in South America.  They continue in their arrogant way.  Finally I stop them.  I tell them, "I am from South America.  We have coconuts there, we call them cocos."  They say "Oh, we did not know."

When they leave Coconut man laughs.  I don't know if he understood everything, but he thought it was funny.  He picks out a huge coconut for me.  He wacks off the top and gives it to me with a straw.  The milk is clear and delicious.  He tells me to sit down on the bench near by.  I sit and gaze out at the rice fields.  There are homemade scarecrows.

Coconut man brings me a green stalk.  He tells me to smell.  It is lemongrass.  It is so wonderful.  He is delighted I know that it is for cooking.  He brings me another - Citrona. He tells me.  "To get rid of mosquitos."  He brings me cumin and other spices.  What a way to spend the afternoon.

I can barely finish the coconut milk. When I am done, he hacks open the coconut to get the meat.  I am used to a coconut meat that is hard.  This is fleshy and very good.  I cannot finish it.  There is way too much for one person.

Now it is time for me to start back.  The end of a lovely day.

 

 

 

On The Road Again: Melbourne..and Goodbye

I am sitting in the Melbourne Airport waiting for my flight to Bali. I have been in Australia for a little more than 3 weeks. The Australians I met all joked that I saw more of Australia than they have. Sydney, Brisbane, Noosa, Cairns, and Melbourne. It is a big country, there is still more to see, but I can't see everything in the time I am here, and I just don't have the funds.

Melbourne is a very interesting city. Definitely a different vibe than the others. But then all the cities had their own personalities. Melbourne is beautiful. The architecture for me was amazing. When I travel, I travel to look at the architecture and meet the people. Melbourne has buildings that you will not find anywhere else. The city planning has done an amazing job of retaining the old and mixing it in with the new. Maybe not all of the older architecture has been kept up, but in what city in the world is it? I can honestly say that in Melbourne you almost never see run down or badly kept buildings. However it is the design of the new buildings that I found breathtaking. The customs building is a black and checkerboard. The use of color on buildings is wonderful. It is a Disneyland of well down architecture.

I walked almost everywhere. When I told my friend Andrew that I had walked to the zoo from the apartment, he was impressed. It is about a 5km walk. That was not the only walking that day. The zoo. I went to the zoo so I could finally see koalas and kangaroos. My friends in Noosa had tried in vain to spot Kangaroos with me, but as luck would have it, on my days, they disappeared. They hop wild over the golf course there. My last chance would be either in Melbourne or in Sydney, the day before I leave to fly home to Buenos Aires.

When I entered the zoo I was shocked. It is an old zoo and a zoo that is not very well kept. Completely out of sync with the rest of Australia. I have been to lots of zoos and this one, to be honest was almost as bad as the zoo in Buenos Aires. Only in Buenos Aires you have a weak excuse.. It was depressing to walk around and see animals that were listless. They did not look well kept or groomed. I felt very sad. This was nothing like the San Diego zoo or even the zoo in Mexico City. I wanted to leave, but I also wanted to see the Koalas and the Kanagaroos.

When I finally came to the Koalas, I felt sorry for them. As I snapped pictures of them I wanted to apologize looking at their little faces. Their habitat was horrible. I walked down the path to the Kangaroos. This was worse. They lay around as if they were dead. Their coats looked terrible. I took a few pictures. It was almost painful to look at them. I realize these are animals in captivity but there are better ways. I left as soon as I saw the Koalas and the Kangaroos. I had almost the same sense of sadness that I did in Cairns with the aborigines. “What is man doing?” I thought. We destroy everything. I could not spend anymore time in this zoo.

Melbourne like Buenos Aires is a walking city. I loved the Victoria Market. It was fun to walk through the stalls and look at all the food and different vendors. There is everything there. If I lived in Melbourne this is where I would shop. The quality and diversity is the best. You can find everything there. On my waks I found Chinatown, the Greek Area, the coffee culture areas. I walked down the chi – chi areas where all the designers are. I took a picture of Louis Vuitton. Perhaps I'll send it to La Presidenta. She can come here to shop. It is a stunning area.

There is great food everywhere. I had Malaysian food, great sushi rolls, and I fell in love with Nando's Chicken. After years of living in Argentina, my tastes have changed. I still love all the ethnic foods, but I was missing my chicken and salad. I ate Nando's 3 times. It is the best barbecued chicken and you can choose the sauces.

I met up with my friend Niki. She had spent a year in Buenos Aires. It was great to see her. We walked along the river and Southbank We ate ice cream before dinner. It was good ice cream, but sigh...not Argentine helado. What can I tell you? BUT! Niki took me to a great Greek restaurant where she knows the owners. She speaks Greek and handled everything. The owner asked me if I liked Boca or River. I told him neither. “Los Estudiantes?” “No.” I told him. “Soy hincha de Velez, soy de Fortin.” He told me he never heard of them, so they must not be very good. Them's fighting words. I didn't punch him. I told him Velez is the best team in Argentina. He insisted he never heard of them. So I spelled Velez. “Ahhh, Velez-Sarsfield.” He said. “Yes, you are correct. They are very good.” It was my Argentine pronouciation of the V that confused him.

I even danced a little tango in Melbourne in a cute place. I met some very nice people. But there is no place like home to dance tango. I am not a traveler from other countries who have to go dance tango every night in every place they go. I live in Buenos Aires, so for me it is different. Tango is too competitive with people in the exterior.

And now here I am. Ready to take the next part of my journey. Indonesia. Bali – Hai. I am excited to see what this part brings. Massages, acupuncture, temples, rice fields, Indonesian food, and of course shopping. I cannot wait.

On The Road Again: Last Snorkel in Cairns

Cairns is pronounced Canes.  It is the home of the Great Barrier Reef.  My main reason to come to this town.  To be honest there really does not seem to be any other reason to come here.  I arrived here on Wednesday night and my Airbnb host Ken picked me up in his pregnant roller skate known as a Smart Car.  It is really cute.  They even look like they are smiling.  I could never imagine driving in one of those in Buenos Aires.  You would die in a second.

On the way to his home my new friend/host tells me a bit about Cairns and where I am to be staying.  I learn that he does not actually live in Cairns but a little outside. His ad said "Close to everywhere" and I now see that this is a small shopping center with a grocery store.  I will need to take a bus to get into Cairns and that means a 20 - 40 minute ride depending on the bus.

I notice that the area near his place is deserted.  He tells me "Oh yeah, I probably should not walk around alone at night."  Thrilling.  I will be the prisoner of Zenda in Cairns..sort of.  And the last thing..a couch surfer is also staying there.  I am paying..he is not.

After I get over my initial anger..there is more to this but I don't want to bore you to death..I decide to stay.  I just do not have the energy to look for another place for 3 days.  The couch surfer turns out to be a nice kid from California.  The Airbnb host is a nice guy, and I take buses and stay in at night.

My first day in Cairns I went to the central to find out about tours to the Great Barrier Reef.  Impossible. One would need 2 months.  There are probably 300 agencies all hawking tours.  In fact the whole central of Cairns exists of only tourist agencies, restaurants, tourist knick knack stores, and a few over priced stores. 

There is one thing that is spectacular about Cairns. Near the Esplanade there is a public swimming pool they call the lagoon.  It is amazing.  It is the most beautiful work of art I have seen.  It has sculptures, rocks and sloping areas.  It is huge and in the middle of a large grassy area.

I went into one travel agency.  I asked the girl about trips to the reef.  I told her I was not interested in a boat with 200 people and screaming kids.  She then decides to sell me the most expensive tours she has..."for people my age."  Whatever that means.  In her opinion people are in 3 categories - backpackers, families, or old.  I am not old.  I did not want a boat with live music and wine.  Bitch.

The next tour agency the guy was drunk at 11 in the morning.  He gave me 3 more options.  It was just as confusing.  Finally I ended up in a place with a happy guy at Happy Travels who told me to use the Internet while I waited.  He had 4 tours.  I finally just bought one that I read about on trip advisor.  I asked him about the train to Kuranda National park another place people rave about.  The tour package was $`07 and I asked for a discount.  Bueno.

On Friday when I got up it was raining.  This was my day to go to Kuranda.  It wasn't being canceled because I had no text message.  So off I went to meet the tour bus at the shopping center.  On the ride to the skyway the trip was explained.  We take a skyway up and the train back with almost 3 hours in Kuranda.

My first skycab I rode alone.  I played tango music on my cell phone as I rode up through the trees.  My second skycab a woman asked me if I wanted to share with her.  She turned out to be from Texas.  She was here for her church.  The next question "Do you go to church?"  You know, I really hate when they ask that question.  I do not want to fight with anyone.  I then have to become "SuperJew." Well new age SuperJew.  I make it as unpalatble as possible so they shut up.

During the skycab ride up we stopped in a rainforest and got to walk around.  It was beautiful. There were falls.  However when you come from Argentina the land of Iguazu it is hard to get excited over trickles down a mountain.

We arrived in Kuranda.  This town maybe a national park, but it exists to soak money from tourists.  I have never seen so many shops it one place.  Shops and restaurants.  Koala petting zoo, butterfly sanctuary, riverboat tour.  All closed because of the weather.  I had my umbrella.  There are some trails to walk that are nice, but in the rain, not so nice.  I spent my time going from one tourist shop to another. 

"Where are you from?"  people would ask me.  "Argentina." I would smile.  "Oh we never had one of those."  They would respond.  Like I was a rare animal.  Of course if they read the news these days about Argentina ....

Two magnet rings, spring rolls, a salad, and an amethyst, I was ready to leave.  For me Kuranda was a waste of time.  I took the train ride back and sat next to a woman who was from Malaysia and living in London.  She had gone to Cairns to dive.

Personally for me I could have done without this trip.  I think if you have lived in Californa and Argentina, Kuranda is nothing spectacular.  At least to me.  It was nothing but a thing to do.

Saturday was my trip to the Great Barrier Reef.  I had to be at the bus stop at 7 am.  In my new Australian life this is not a big deal.  In my Argentine life I would have died. I get to the Reef Terminal and it is there I find that I could have come and found out about all the other tours without going to 500 tour agencies.  The prices are set so they would have been the same, it just would have been easier. Whatever..I am here.

In the line behind me is a single dad with his daughter from New  Zealand.  He starts to chat me up.  He is a nice looking guy.  I can hardly understand his accent.  I am really not interested in a single dad.  I just smile and pretend I don't understand.

The sales guy at Happy Tours said that there would be abut 30 = 35 people on our boat. Well more like 70.  They lie in Australia too.  Everyone seems to be young.  There are a few people in my age category but no one in wheelchairs.

The staff is peppy.  At first it is a little nauseuating.  But that is their job.  It will take 2 hours to get to the reef.  They talk about sea sickness.  I feel OK.  I normally don't get sea sick.  Within a half hour about 15% of the kids are throwing up.  They are supposed to go to the back of the boat, but many of them don't make it.  This is a little gross.

Everywhere I go is the Single Dad.  I meet another guy.  A doctor from Canada.  He doesn't talk much.  I am on my own.  There is a latino looking guy, but he spends the whole trip looking sick.  So I stay in the sun.  I am starting to be a nice shade of brown.

We get to the first reef.  They gave us a snorkel lesson on board.  I have never snorkeled before.  I am a little nervous.  They told me I could wear my contacts with the mask.  We get into a glass bottom boat to go to a sand bar.  People actually will pay another $20 to get a tour in this boat for 20 minutes.  I am glad not to have done it.

OK I put on the flippers.  I have a wet suit.  They told us to use a wet suit more as protection from the sun.  Mask on.  I jump in.  My first look in the water.  It was really cool.  These electric blue fish with white and orange stripes were swimming around.  I started to swim into the reef area.  There were fish everywhere and they were amazing.  I cannot believe I waited so long to snorkel.  This was all my mother's fault.  I wanted to snorkel once when I was 8 and she scared me to death.  What an idiot I have been.

The guides announced there would be a snorkel tour and anyone could join.  Only a Japanese couple and me wanted to go.  I was surprised.  It was free.  The guide had a life preserver with ropes attached.  He pulled us (We were supposed to kick) as he took us to the best parts of the reef.  It was mind blowing.  I would never have found these places on my own.  No one else from our ship was there.  He brought up a sea cucumber for us to feel.  He would periodically stop to explain things or tell us what to look for.  This was better than dancing tango.  (Did I say that?)  I was mesmerized.  I could not believe the fish, the turtles, and all the other sea creatures I was seeing.

I thanked our guide profusely.  I must have thanked him a 100 times.  I told him I never saw anything like this before.  I started to slip into Spanish because strangely enough I could not find the words in English to express myself.  How strange is that?  "You," he said, "should take up scuba diving.  You would love it."  I am not too sure about that, I just know I loved snorkeling.

Our next reef that we went to was not as good.  The ocean was choppy.  It was hard to keep from getting water into the snorkel.  I went out as far as I could.  I got tired of fighting the waves.  I had had my snorkel high.

On the trip back to Cairns it turned out the latino guy was from Montevideo.  He was happy to meet me. He spoke English but missed Spanish.  Me too.  We talked all the way back.  Politics mostly.  Being from Uruguay he hates our favorite president.  We talked about our trips.  It was nice to get his impression of Australia.  At the reef terminal we said goodbye.

Today is my last day.  I did pretty much nothing but relax.  Tomorrow I am off to Melbourne.  I have 4 days there and then to Bali.  More adventures wait.

On The Road Again: Fake Quay Days in Noosa

Noosa. Noosa Head, Noosaville. Beauty. Pristine beaches with white sand, aquamarine water to emerald. It is where the very wealthy live. It seems the only people who work in Noosa are the ones who service the people who come to live there or the tourists who come to hang out for the weekend or for vacation.

Multi million dollar homes, BMWs, Land Rovers, Mercedes. It reminds me of Carmel, California.  Under normal circumstances I would not have come to Noosa, but two of my dear friends live there. I came to visit them. My friend Kat moved there 4 years ago. She is originally born in South America,she also has lived in Europe. At first the small towness of Noosa was difficult for her to adjust to. Now she loves it.

It was funny for me to listen to her to talk about it. My friend the party girl. The girl who once loved to shop, stay out all hours, go to fine restaurants, is now content to get up at 6 and go to bed at 10. She was always a great mom, she always put her daughter first, but now she is a super mom. She is happy with her new life. It shows on her face. She beams contentment. Something she never did before, and so I am happy for her.

My first day in Noosa I came down with my Romanian friends by car. We walked around Noosa and they left me at the Yacht and Rowing Club. Kat came to fetch me. She and John had been to a school function for Kat's daughter. I was happy to sit outside the club and people watch.

When Kat came we went inside to have a drink. It was great to see her. We went over to window seats. A man who I think was rather tipsy commented that we were going to improve the view. I smiled at him. When we left he smiled at me again and called me “bella.” He had heard Kat and I talking in Spanish. I commented to Kat that that was the first man since I was in Australia that knew I was alive. While he was not my type, it was nice to be noticed. I am so used to men in Buenos Aires and South America noticing women. Here I feel invisible.

I mentioned it to my friend Christine in Sydney. At first I thought it was because of my age. There are so many gorgeous young girls here. Then I sat and watched and noticed that men just look right through the women. No one seems to flirt with anyone. I think it is worse than the U.S. She told me that this behavior has been around for the last 20 years. I notice there is an ugly controversy here with female politicians accusing male politicians of being misogynists.

At what point does equality go too far? I like being acknowledged as a woman. While sometimes in Buenos Aires it gets a little much, I would much rather have it that way, than to be dead, as I am here in Australia. I like men telling me I look nice. That I smell good. That my dress is pretty, or it matches my eyes. What is wrong with this? How does this diminish me as a person? No wonder when the foreign women come to Buenos Aires they turn into idiots when the men innocently call them “amor” and tell them they are pretty. I think somewhere along the line some values have gotten skewed and there needs to be a happy medium.

On my second day in Noosa I walked through the national park. I am still amazed that everywhere in Australia there are public bathrooms that are clean...including the national parks. One cool thing about toilets here is they have a half flush you can use to save water. That would never work in Buenos Aires where sometimes a full flush doesn't work.

Lots of people come to the national park to walk or run. I chose a path that runs up and along side the mountain and around the beach. It was 4 km there and then 4km back. The views were spectacular. On my way back I walked down to the beach and spent about 2 hours laying on a rock like a seal soaking up the sun. Most people don't realize that I tend to tan pretty dark and I am now on my way to a nice color.

I walked over to a coffee house and ordered a tall flat white. This is my new favorite coffee. This is one thing I will miss from Australia. I sat in the coffee house watching people for about 40 minutes. There were tons of young people – gorgeous young people. But they seemed so antiseptic with each other. Now I understand what Argentines mean when they say “son frios” they are cold. I mention this later on to my friend Kat and she gets very defensive. She is the latina but she has become acculturated to Australia. I am the American and I have become acculturated to Argentina. She defends Australians and how they behave in their relationships, just like I used to do with Americans. She doesn't get it. To me Australians are very nice people, but they are cold. I am not talking about the bedroom, I am talking about personal interaction.

After my coffee I walk down Hastings St. and look in the overpriced shops. Nothing interests me. Mostly junky clothes that are overpriced or trinkets. The usual tourist stuff. I stop for a frozen yogurt. In a little bit I go to take the ferry over to the yacht club. I decide to have lunch there.

Then Kat comes for me. I am starting to realize why I live in Buenos Aires. This place is really boring. I could never live here. I don't care how beautiful it is. It is starting to bug me. Everything is so perfect. I am almost happy to read on the Internet about Moyano and the usual suspects in Argentine politics.

The next day Kat and I have our girl's day. She looks so Australian to me now. She makes me laugh. She takes me on a tour of the small cities around Noosa. We are in the middle of nowhere. Really. It makes me nervous. I hate being in the middle of nowhere. I am such a city girl. That and driving on the other side of the road. I tell Kat how much I admire her. She is amazing in her new life.

We go to the first town. It really is lovely. There are Queenslander type homes that have been turned into shops. We stop to have a coffee. The shop has gluten free cakes. I am really happy. They are really good. It is an orange lemon cake. I wonder if I can duplicate it. I have my favorite tall flat white. We walk around the little town and look in the shops. This town exists for tourists. The things are lovely but expensive.

Next we drive to a town that is known for its dairy products. It is very pretty. They have an incredible health food store. I buy soap. I know that sounds weird. I love handmade soaps. They have some soaps that are made locally and the money goes to charity. I buy 5 bars. They are only $1.75 each. The soap factory on Gurruchaga in Palermo makes so so soap and it is much more expensive. I never buy soap there. I will probably buy more soap in Australia than anything else. I forgot to buy soap when I was in the U.S. Funny what people buy when they go on vacation.

After that we drive a little more and go to a lake that is incredible. Everything is so calm. I know it is beautiful. Somehow I feel like I am trapped in a mental hospital. I can't take all this tranquilidad. Traveling makes you look inside yourself. At least it does for me. I am missing Buenos Aires. At least for now. I just cannot handle this much calmness. It is good I am leaving tomorrow. I think I would go crazy if I stayed one more day. I love my friend, but I just can't. I need movida. It has been good for me to come to Noosa and see my friends. I love Kat. She will be in Buenos Aires the end of November. She comes twice a year. I ask her if she will be her latina self when she comes. She laughs.

Now I am on my way to Cairns. A new adventure waits. It will be crazy. I thought my Airbnb situation was going to be solid. The guy is being flaky. Let's hope that it is not going to be a nightmare. Australia has quarantine laws so I cannot import JerryBrown and Maxi to save me. Let's see what tomorrow brings.

On The Road Again: Bad Hair Days in Brisbane

Brisbane is not like Sydney. In the words of my friend Ian, it is not set up for tourists. For me it is still a very beautiful place. When I booked my room with Airbnb the room was advertised as being 2km from the city. I suppose it would be if you could walk on water. The apartment was beautiful. Completely different than the place I was in in Sydney. Modern and clean with fantastic people. At first I was to stay with different people, but they moved. Then the new people in the apartment agreed to take on their guests. So even though I was much farther from Brisbane than I would have liked, in the end it all worked out for the best.

 My first day in Brisbane it rained. Everyone thanked me for bringing them rain. They said that it had been parched there. Thank God it stopped that night. I had this fear that my time in Brisbane would be marred by torrential downpours out in the middle of no where.  I took the ferry into Brisbane from Hamilton where I was staying. It was a 30 minute ride. I felt like I was in fairyland. The woman who worked inside the ferry gave me a map and explained all the stops to me. How Australians can complain about their customer service is beyond me. The ride was beautiful.

 My friend Ian met me at the South Bank stop. I met him in Buenos Aires a few years ago when he came with a group to dance. He was kind enough to meet me and give me a tour of this part of Brisbane. Not only that he gave me tons of information on where to go the next day. Australians are so friendly and nice. We walked around looking for a reasonable place to eat dinner. 

I am still amazed that the price of food in the restaurants is about the same as the prices in Buenos Aires.  Most of the time you can eat for between $10 and $16 AUD. ($12 - $19 USA) This is about 50 - 60 pesos ARG.  The same for food in the grocery store.  This tells you how expensive Buenos Aires has gotten.

 We ended up in an Indian restaurant that was amazing. The food was fantastic. There is not one Indian restaurant in Buenos Aires that comes close. It took me forever to figure out what I wanted to eat. The menu was extensive and filled with many things I had never seen before. I had a prawn dish that was so rich and flavorful. I can no longer eat naan which is a shame. It looked so good.

 After we went to a tango practica. The people were so nice, and so welcoming. The dancing was a little different. Many people dancing in open embrace. There was one lone Argentine who was very happy to dance with me. I spent quite a bit of time talking with the Argentine man and a very interesting woman who was originally from El Salvador. It was not really important for me to dance. I loved talking to the people. I found the people to be so warm.

 The next day I took the ferry into the city again. I spent the whole day walking around. I picked up a map at the library. There is a long street called Queen Street that has been turned into a pedestrian mall. There are tons of shops and some beautiful old buildings. I wandered around the Art museum, Griffith University, and I kept getting lost.  I got excited when I saw Target.  Further investigation proved to be disappointing.  Australian Target is not like USA Target.  A cheap imitation.

 I love the clothes in Australia. They have a wonderful sense of style. I see that my design of short in front and longer in the back has been copied. I did this in my dresses two years ago. I sold it to many people who were from Asia and now it is all over the place here. I am the only one not making money from it. Sigh..

 At 6 I meet with Ian. He takes me to a more bohemian part of the city. I love it there. We go to a Vietnamese restaurant. I am not real hungry as I ate a sushi roll a couple of hours earlier. The menu looks wonderful. I miss having all these kinds of restaurants. I know I will be able to eat Vietnamese food in Melbourne. Maybe even in Cairns. I have shrimp rolls. They are excellent.

 We head for tango. They are playing modern tango when we enter. Once again, people are friendly. They dance very different. Open and with some step I have never seen before. Lots of boleos, ganchos. Stuff I would never dance. When in Rome... A man asks me to dance. I can dance open embrace, but it is very difficult when the other person is like a jellyfish. When he finds out I live in Buenos Aires, he proceeds to tell me that “everyone” dances this way in Buenos Aires. He has been there. I ask him where do people dance this way in Buenos Aires. He tells me La Viruta. I keep my mouth shut. I do not want to argue.

 When I go back to the table, the woman there, tells me to learn to say no. I do not want to say no the whole night. This is not my style of dancing. I am a milonguera. I dance with another man who is very nice. He talks about his style of dancing. I politely listen. Then he realizes who I am. “You are Deby.” he says. He reads my blog. To me, my opinions do not matter here.

 My body is killing me. My arm, my waist, my feet. I have been dancing less than 2 hours. In Buenos Aires I can dance for 6 hours with no pain. I wonder if I can make it until 11:30. I have not been in this much pain since I started dancing or when I was teaching.

 A lovely man takes me to dance.  He says to me “I bet you are wondering when we are all going to learn to dance.” I smile but I don't respond. I tell him that they have their own style. He is so sweet. This is the thing. Although I feel like I have been through the war, people are so nice here, it is impossible to say no to dances. Although it is difficult to explain to another man why I do not want to dance to Pugliese. When I watch the dancers, it reminds me of my days in the US.  I would have ended up dead on the floor.

 I am happy to leave early with my friend Ian. I do not think I could dance another tanda. It makes me sad. I would love to dance more. Perhaps it was all the walking I have been doing. My friends here see their version of tango as an international version. It is really interesting to listen to them talk about tango. This is when I realize why I cannot leave Buenos Aires...for all the faults, the inflation, the government.  Even the garbage on the street.  There is no substitute for the milongas in Buenos Aires..for the men I dance with there, no matter how angry they might make me at times.

 On Saturday, Nicol and her husband ask me if I want to go with them to the mountains with them and their friend. I am still having a difficult time to traffic being on the other side of the road. I try to get into the car on the “wrong” side. I look at the road and get a rush. I don't think I would ever try to drive here. 

 We pick up their friend and head to Mt. Tamborine. It is lots of fun. They are all from Rumania. The drive is spectacular. We have two GPS. The electronic GPS and the friend Michaela. She knows the mountain very well. I am amazed at all the wildlife. We stop at a Polish restaurant and have coffee. The parrots are gorgeous. The day is spectacular.

 We drive through little pockets of shops and stop. The homes are secluded. I cannot imagine living here. We stop so that Nicol and Michalea can buy avocados. I am astounded. There is a stand filled with avocados, bags, and what they call an honesty box. People fill their bags and put their $3 into the box. I cannot believe it. I tell them in Argentina people would just take the avocados, probably any money, and maybe the stand, and all the bags. They laugh. I tell them it is true.

 We stop at a distillery. The people are lovely. An English man married to a Russian woman. They give us a tasting of 6 different liquors. I love the ginger liquor. I don't buy it because the truth is, I would never drink it. The place is charming. They even grow many of the fruits that they distill.

 We stop and take a 3 km hike into the mountains. It is so beautiful. My friends tease me and call me a Japanese tourist for all the pictures I am taking. It is true. I am taking lots of pictures. I will load them in Facebook when I get a chance. Australia is so beautiful I cannot imagine not taking lots of pictures.

 At the end of the day we go back to pick up Paul, Micahlea's husband. We go out for Indian food. Another wonderful dinner and spirited conversation. Paul is very interesting. People always have their ideas and opinions of what South America is like, without having been there.

 Now my time is ending in Brisbane. Today we are going to drive to Noosa. One of my dearest friends Kat lives there with John. I will spend 4 days with them. Everyone tells me that I am going to love Noosa. I cannot wait to see it.  Brisbane has been very nice.  The only thing is I have had bad hair days.  The air is so dry here I feel like I am drying up.  The opposite of Buenos Aires... My Australian Odyssey...will be continued.

On The Road Again: Fake Quays Eeek Leave Sydney

I am sitting in the Sydney airport. I have almost 2.5 hours before my flight to Brisbane. When I walked outside the apartment where I was staying this morning to go to the metro, it was raining. Sydney is an incredible city in many ways, but they do not have a reliable shuttle to the airport. You must either drag your suitcases to the metro or take a taxi. Taxis are expensive.

As I roll along the sidewalk several taxis stop and call out to me. I tell them no. $60 dollars to the airport..or more I do not want to do. Then one driver asks me how much I want to pay. I tell him $30. He laughs and tells me to get in. I check out his taxi. I am from Argentina. I know what an estafador is. He sees that I am not trusting him. So he gets out to help me with my luggage. He looks at my face and laughs.  “You don't trust me. Here,” he says. “This is my card. You can pay me first. Where are you from?” I pay him and he loads my luggage into his taxi.

It is a new taxi and from a reliable company. I tell him I am from Argentina. “Do they have bad people in Argentina he asks?”  How am I supposed to answer that question? My ride to the airport is a pleasure. So much nicer than dragging a heavy suitcase up and down stairs and through the metro. My driver is Greek and has lived in Australia 40 years. He is full of stories. He wears a big fat gold wedding band but insists he is divorced, owns a 4 million dollar house on the beach and a fleet of taxis. Whatever...

Now I have this time to capture my last few days in this lovely city. I met so many lovely people. I have a nice time in the milongas here. I didn't go to dance, I went to be with people. To hear my tangos. People who have never been to Buenos Aires were a little mystified I think that I didn't find the dancing the same. Their idea of “best dancers” is a little different than mine. I would tell them it doesn't matter, I am here because I want to be with all of you, not to dance. I can dance any day of the week.

It was the age old thing of the women complaining about the men. Yet I would tell them it takes two. Their body complaints come from poor posture. I would explain body mechanics to them and they would insist that the men needed those classes not them. A big mistake. Then you have the men complaining about the women. Again, body mechanics. Bad posture on both sides. I just shut my ears. People would ask who was my favorite dancer. How could I answer this? I live in Buenos Aires. I told them I preferred to think of it as the people I met rather than how they danced. One man told me it was wonderful to dance with me because he could feel how much I loved the music. He had been to Buenos Aires many times. He was very sweet.

Another man told me he was dying to dance with me when he saw my feet. “I knew you weren't from here when I saw you dance.” he said. My favorite was the Korean man. He did that typical open embrace classic step they do everywhere in the world that is totally boring. There is absolutely no lead. I don't know what people see in dancing that step other than they can keep perfecting it until they die. He kept complimenting me. He asked me my name and when I asked him his, he told me he lost it last Tuesday. He had me laughing throughout the dance. He was so funny. In the end he asked me to marry him after I told him I loved Korean food.

For me the milongas in Sydney were about what milongas are about , the music and people. At Mimi and Teddy's milonga on Sunday I met a wonderful woman named Jan. She had just written a book. Her family is an old Australian family. Her book is written in the neigborhood that I stayed in. I listened to her talk abut her struggle to write her book. I could easily identify with her as I too have been struggling for two years with my own damn book. I do not want to write another “I-went-to-Buenos-Aires-Milonga Book” with the cast of evil characters. I bought her book because I wanted to support her. I know how much it means to have someone do that. I made her sign it.Listening to her talk she is an amazing person. I have a pile of books to read and now hers is on that pile.

The old battle ax I stayed with was shocked that I made so many friends while I was in Sydney. She was surprised that people picked me and brought me home from milongas. She was a constant reminder to me of what I would never want to be. I have no idea of how old she is, but I don't think she is that much older than I am. Maybe 5 or 6 years. All she does is argue and complain. God, she lives in Paradise..just think if she lived in Buenos Aires!!!

On my last day I connected with an old friend. I had no idea my friend Christine lived in Sydney. I knew she was from Australia, but I didn't know where. I knew her from the milongas and this blog. She read that I was in town and invited me to come visit her. I took the ferry out to her suburb. She told me her suburb is only 4 blocks. Huntedly Point. The ferry ride was spectacular. I continue to be amazed at the beauty of this place. The water looks like it is digital it is so blue. The sky is gorgeous. I feel incredible. I get off the ferry and walk up the path. Christine is there to meet me. We go to her home. She has a beautiful condominum. It is absolutely gorgeous. I tell her it is like a real home. She has a wonderful garden. I love it.

We chat about friends and Buenos Aires and then she takes me to her social club. She tells me we will meet her group of lady friends there and that they are a bit older than her. The club is amazing. It has everything including a small casino. I meet her friends including one woman who tells me to call her “Charlie Brown.” “I'm dangerous.” she warns me. She is probably close to 80. This is like the Australian Golden Girls. The women are characters. They tell a story about a missing pudding pot that is hilarious.

After Christine and I take a walk around her little suburb and then back to her home. We spend the rest of the day talking about our lives and friends. Like everyone I have met in Australia, she asks me why don't I move there. It is a thought. But I could not bring Maxi and JerryBrown and that is very important. I could never leave my animal children.

When I get on the bus to go back to Sydney the driver is unable to make change. “Go sit down.” he says. Christine calls to me “You did it again Blondie.” I wave to her. I walk back to the apartment. I will be in Sydney one last time before I leave for Buenos Aires. But not in the apartment of this woman. Thank God! Sydney is beautiful. I am excited to start the next part of my trip. Brisbane awaits with friends and new adventures. Besos

On The Road Again: Identity Crisis in Sydney - Fake Ray Bans Broke

On Sunday morning I wake up to a nightmare.  My fake Ray Bans have broke.  An indentity crisis in progress.  I need to replace them.  I walk down Darlington Avenue.  I really do not want to go back to Paddy's Markets.  I need to see what I can source.  I don't have much time.  Today I am being picked up to dance in North Sydney at 4:30.

I walk along the avenue and find a small market in the square.  There are small stalls selling a variety of things from food to antiques to books and SUNGLASSES.  I check out the variety.  They have fake Ray Bans but not like mine.  They don't say Ray Ban.  Australia protects intellectual property unlike Argentina.  Not only that, these are very cheap.  Ugh.  The only glasses I like are ones that are copies of something called Quay.  So now I have a temporary personality change - to Quay.  I am more of a Ray Ban type - gritty.  Hopefully in Bali I will find some.  If not, home in  Once.

There are Argentines selling coffee, empanadas, and chorizo.  I stop to talk to them.  Nice people.  They have lived in Australia more than 20 years.  Really they are more Australian than Argentine.  It is a strange conversation.  I know it must be wierd for an Argentine by birth to meet an American who lives in Argentina, is more Argentine than they are.  But it is the same for me.  When I meet people who have immigrated to the US.  I think the difference is it doesn't irritate me.  Why should it?  We all make choices.

I walk a ways and then take the bus to Circular Quay.  I get off and walk around.  It is a clear beautiful day.  I decide to walk over to the Royal Botanical Gardens.  I spend about an hour wandering around.  Yes, they are well tended. Manicured as Grandma Brown would say.  But it is boring.  I find the botanical garden in Buenos Aires more interesting.  There seems to be more species of plants. 

I walk out and find a spectacular building in front of me.  It is the library.  I go inside.  What an amazing building of rich architecture.  I love books.  I cannot bring myself to buy a Kindle.  I love the feel of a book.  I will fear the day when libraries will be a thing of the past.  Books are permanent.  E-Books are not.  1984.   I explore the halls of this beautiful and richly designed buildling.  There are three exhibits.  One is of a writer, another of an artist, and the third a fashion photography exhibit I enjoy immensely.

I wander out and find Hyde Park.  There is a beautiful fountain in the middle.  I stop to take some pictures.  I wander around.  It is close to 2:30.  The day has gone fast.  I need to walk home and prepare to get ready to go out.

I come home to you know who.  I tell her I will be going out to the milonga in North Sydney.  The immediate reaction is that she told me it was too far.  I tell her not to worry.  Someone is going to come get me.  She is surprised.  She was also surprised when someone brought me home last night.  I am tired of negativity.

And so will be another milonga in Sydney, another opportunity to meet new friends. Isn't that what traveling is all about?