One Escape... A Little Footie!!

I've been intending on writing a post about futbol, or soccer as its known in the United States. A conversation I had with one of my students spurred me to finally write about the world's most popular sport. Rodrigo and I were talking about living one's lifetime in Latin American countries such as Argentina. He briefly explained how playing futbol is the greatest escape to living in times of political or economic uncertainty or instability. Many of the people here and around the world have grown up playing futbol since they were able to walk. Ahhh, it all makes sense, thus the explanation to why I'm being crossed-up left and right on the field. For those unfamiliar with futbol lingo, being crossed-up refers to being beat or being "schooled." It happens to the best and worst of us. (Note: futbol is an international sport and I'm not directly correlating it to 3rd world countries).

The most experience I had with the sport was as an eight-year old playing in a little summer soccer league, essentially a way to get me out of the house and run around. To be completely honest the most I remember about my infant soccer career was how much I looked forward to halftime for the orange slices, the next Pele right? Since that time in my life until my arrival in Buenos Aires, I had completely lost appreciation for the sport. Then I stepped into my first pick-up game here and immediately began kicking myself, figuratively and literally.. eeehhh. I'm decently athletic as I played three sports in high school and love to play any sport in time when the opportunity has arisen since. However, I do enjoy the challenge of being the worst to step on the field.

Now it's been nearly three or four months since Mike and I have begun our ''out of retirement'' futbol career. When we step on the field now, we're about the middle of the pack in talent, feels good to actually out play someone else on the field... anyone else. Though I must be honest and tell you a little secret, those who I usually out play are other yankees. I've yet to step up the game to an international level, so to speak. Rodrigo was speaking some truth. For that one hour of competition nothing else matters but staying afloat on skill level against players from Brazil, Ireland, England, Argentina, France, Germany and Norway. It's become a weekly affair as Mike is the only one gracious enough to organize the games, thanks Mikey! Just that thrill of competition, even simple pick-up games, truly does provide a quick escape.

What's also very interesting to observe is the difference in styles between players from different countries. These are my short-lived observations: Brazilian players have style and are very flashy; English players play good defense and are intense; Argentines are very good passers and maintain possession a lot even if it doesn't result in a goal; and the beloved yankees play like its basketball without hands, however, usually lack much effectiveness to their style... like myself :).

Of course, there are exceptions, our friend Camara from Washington D.C. is one of the best forwards on the field. The best all-around player would be Marcelo, Argentine, who is that guy who makes everyone else better on the team. He's like the Michael Jordan of Argentine pick-up footie... and I, I'd like to say Scottie Pippen of the field but I think I'm still fighting my way out of "waterboy" status. What does your status matter when you're escaping the madness of everyday life anyways?

Below are two pics of just some of the guys we play with:

Left to right clockwise: Josh (England), Keeger (Ireland), Camara (Wash D.C.), Mischa (England), Etienne (Germany), myself, Marcelo (Argentina), Dave (England), Mikey (San Diego, CA).

Poo Poo en Mi Cabeza

I was taking my usual stroll to work yesterday with the usual Monday morning mind haze. All was well as I approached Plaza de Mayo when all of the sudden a huge rain drop plopped me on the head. How rare, there isn´t a cloud in the sky on this cold morning.

Oh no, as you could have guessed, this was no raindrop. This was a pigeon´s way of welcoming me to the week ahead. I know this may have happened to some of you but this wasn´t just yesterday that it happened. This was the second week in a row, both Monday mornings, that a pigeon gave my red hair some character. I was in disbelief. Last Monday when it happened it obviously hit me as a surprise but two weeks in a row, not only the timing, but on the same block. This leads me to believe that it could have been the same freaking pigeon. Now you know why this story is somewhat blogworthy. Now this is probably the fourth time in my life a pigeon has let one loose on my head, I now believe that pigeons play target practice with red heads.

The first incident didn´t throw my character off too much, I was almost too tired to care and simply strolled into the next kiosko I saw to gather some napkins and comically explain ¨Una paloma hizo kaka en mi cabeza,¨ literally saying that a pigeon crapped on my head. The laughter and joy it brought to the kiosko workers was worth the Monday morning hair-dressing. Then came week two, when I had finally overcome the past and was no longer concerned about dodging pigeons´target practice.

PLOP right onto my head in nearly the same location as last Monday. This couldn´t be, I was in such shock and a strange form of anger came over me as I stepped out to the street and looked up to the building ledge and started cussing in Spanish. (For some strange reason its more entertaining to curse in Spanish than English for me, it feels more effective). Suddenly I realized that I must have looked like I was the one flying over the cuckoo´s nest since I was looking up to the skys muttering ¨hijo de puta, me cargo, la puta que te parió¨ In a nice way of saying it, I was telling this damn pigeon what I thought of it since it managed to crap on my head two weeks in a row. Note: It very well could have been another pigeon but I like to think it was the same pigeon and it has taken a liking to me. I then calmed myself after feeling like an idiot for looking up and cursing at a damn bird, I entered the same kiosko and it was like groundhog day with Bill Murray. There I was, once again, explaining how the pigeons have it out for me. The ladies at the kiosko explained how its good luck when pigeons drop a deuce on the cabeza. I then questioned whether it was good luck for the pigeon (crapper) or myself (crappee).

The rest of my day was filled with expectations for all of the good luck I have coming my way. I then started to think about being that pigeon, oh yes, I put myself in the pigeon´s world. There has to be some kind of cool award in the pigeon community for hitting the same target two weeks in a row in the same spot. I am still awaiting my invitation to the pigeon-crapping target awards ceremony, afterall, I am that target who somehow magnetizes bird poop. My route to work has changed slightly as I´ve learned my lesson, for now. I am almost tempted to walk the same way next Monday just to find out if this is a message from the pigeon gods.

Afterall, I could take the other side and believe that it was all just a huge coincidence, but hey at least I have luck on my side!

Los Campos Prevail... Victory or Defeat?

The end of a four month national struggle comes to an end, by one vote! Since March when President Cristina Fernandez Kirchner increased export taxes on all major Argentine food exports without Congressional consent, the country has been in major unrest. Weekly protests and demonstrations from both sides, the farmers and the government, had become a regularity slowly boiling with rising tensions. I was truly beginning to question whether all of the farmers' protesting would change anything or have a major affect on whether this law change would materialize.

When President Cristina finally sent the decision to congress, most thought it was a small victory for the farmers. However, speculators like myself thought this was just continuing an inevitably long conflict that would end in misery for the farmers. Judgement day in the congressional building was last Wednesday, the 16th of July, which would end up being a 20 hour day from 8am to 4am the next morning. Rallies began on Tuesday from both sides, so much so that I was sent home from work because we couldn´t even hear ourselves think from our downtown office building amidst the shooting cannons, whistles and chants. One distinguishing difference between the farmers´supporters and the government supporters is the incentive behind their demonstrations. Some of the government supporters who gathered in front of the Congress building were paid by the government for their support. The supporters of the farmers gathered in Palermo, a neighborhood to the north of the Congress building, many of whom were holding signs saying ¨We weren´t even paid to be here.¨

The clock struck 4:22 am on Thursday in the Congressional building as the country desperately awaited the vote of one man. The vote count up to this point; 36 in favor of the tax increase and 36 opposed to the tax increase. This is a true representation of how divided this country really is but like any good democracy, it came down to a deciding vote, that of the Vice President Julio Cobos. He is head of the Senate and Cristina´s right hand man... or was. He then went on to give one of the best speeches before casting his vote, so powerful that I youtubed his speech several times which nearly provoked me to watch some of William Wallace´s freedom speeches in the movie Braveheart. Cobos delivered his vote against the tax following a sincere, heartfelt speech on why he must follow his heart and go against his government. Perhaps, he summed it up best by saying ¨I agree with the distribution of wealth, I also know that one has to see a reasonable profit. To redistribute wealth, one has to create it.¨

Well done and well said in my opinion. Now the country sits in surprise that all of the farmers´cries actually made it through to the government, this democracy actually works, wow. Even so, this was a microcosmic illustration of how divided this country remains politically and economically. At least, for time being, Argentina can do its part in providing even some relief to a world very much in need of its resources. Should the vote had been cast in favor, this country may be remembered as the one country who missed on seizing an opportunity to improve its own economy by helping the global food crisis, due to its own internal conflict.

Was this victory or defeat? The jury is still out. We shall see if the country can actually rebound from this crisis and put the economy on a long-term upward swing. However if you ask the people who have lived here their whole life and if history is any indication, don´t count on it.

Passin' Time in Colonia, Uruguay

"Why would you ever go to Colonia, Uruguay?" This is a question that is most often answered unanimously by ex-pats by, "to renew my 90-day tourist visa."
Yep, that's it. Then the conversation usually continues about how little there is to do in this po-dunk, nothing town. For a person who grew up in a very small town, I was actually looking forward to getting out of the huge metropolitan zoo of Buenos Aires, even if it was only for 5 hours in the afternoon/evening time. It was that time for Mike and I to renew our 90-day tourist visa. Since we don't have work visas, neither do most ex-pats working in Buenos Aires, we must comply by the 90-day rule and leave the country every three months to get a little stamp on the passport that lets authorities know we wouldn't dare overstay our welcome in Argentina.

After a quick one hour boat ride from Buenos Aires, we were welcomed to Colonia by a confused climate. For one minute it was sunny, the next it was foggy, which actually transcends a beautiful array of colors in the rapidly changing sky. We began our journey through this so-called town of nothing by walking through a big construction site which signified at least they were trying to add some buildings to this town of nothing. We finally arrived to the main highway where our choice was simple, go straight to the center of the city or go right on the main highway towards Montevideo.


Although we would have loved to take a quick detour to Montevideo, we only had five hours to discover all of the nothing there was to do in Colonia. We arrived at the main avenue that passes through the town just about 50 meters after the sign. By the time we exchanged our Argentine pesos to Uruguayan pesos, the fog had begun to set in heavily eliminating any possible return of the sun. Our rather brief exploration of the main avenue reminded me very much of little towns I had grown up going to on the eastern plains of Colorado, where life is very simple. Our appetite kicked in and we located the most cheerful looking restaurant on the main avenue where the vibes were perfect. Jazz-like music played during the foggy, cold afternoon which somewhat put us in a Christmas spirit. I can't fully explain what provided this Christmas sentiment, maybe it was the jazz music or maybe it was the small-town atmosphere in a thick fog that reminded me of the winter clouds as a child waiting for a peaceful snowfall.

Our meal was more than plentiful, the first meal that I haven't been able to finish since I moved to South America. The afternoon had escaped us and the day had turned to night without notice. Keep in mind this was in the end of June when the days are the shortest of the year in the Southern Hemisphere. We had two hours left to kill in a calm, foggy evening. So we did what anyone else would do in our situation...... we rented little motorcycle scooters to drive around and fully explore what Colonia may had been hiding from us. Total cost? A whole $7 usd for one hour to ride around our sweet new rides. It was actually a thrill cruising the streets and highways of this little town since traffic was very scarce on this foggy evening. At one point, it felt as if we were the only people in the town, driving through the foggy night. The hour of exploration via motitos (little motorcycles) reminded me somewhat of all of my bike tours through Europe, for I had forgotten how riding bikes through an unknown place provides a rare liberating feeling.

The hands and face were frozen to numbness after the short-lived, Uruguayan version of motorcycle diaries. At this point, our time was up in Colonia. I think 5 hours was perfect to explore the town of nothing. So the next time they ask, "what is there to do in Colonia, Uruguay?" I'd like to do justice to the answer and replace the whole "nothing" talk, those little motorcycles are freakin' sweet! Ok, so maybe there was nothing to do, but I'd rather be doing nothing on a scooter than on foot.

Below are some more photos from the trip. Mike took all of these pictures, so give him the credit. The first photo is of a little park we saw right when we arrived on the main avenue. The following photo is of me on my motito. The final pic is a great nighttime shot in foggy Colonia... enjoy!

What is Buenos Aires Really Like?

Skimming the the NY Times today especially caught my eye since I found a perfect description of my current home. I couldn´t have explained the city I now reside any better. The author of this article does write for a living and has lived in Buenos Aires seven more years than I have. Everything she explains in the article seems to be a microcosm of my short-lived seven month hiatus in Capital Federal (Buenos Aires). If you are genuinely curious about what this city is truly like, please take 10 minutes of your day to read this article.

She mentions in one part of the article how it takes a while to settle down in an eternally unsettled place. This is exactly how I felt attempting to settle myself into this city that is never really settled itself. Buenos Aires is truly a place which keeps you on your toes, I still see things here that surprise the hell out of me. The only certainty seems to be that nothing is certain from the government to the economy to the citizens.

With all of this said, this city has surprisingly grown on me in the last few months and I´ve developed an unfamiliar pride in the country itself... especially the national futbol team. I´m riding Argentina all the way to the World Cup in South Africa 2010!

Six Degrees of Separation

The principle of six degrees of separation was originally formed in 1909 by the Italian Guglielmo Marconi. The original idea was spurred by a study from the radio pioneer, Marconi, that simply claims that if one person is one step away from each person they know and two steps from each person who is known by one of the people he or she knows, then everyone is an average of six steps away from each person on earth. This study has been found to have mixed conclusions on other studies since Macroni's Nobel Prize speech nearly one hundred years ago. In simple terms, six degrees of separation is referred to each time somebody utters the words what a small world.



"Wait so you study at SDSU, so where do you live?" I asked our Australian visitor Daniele. Already amazed that I met a student from my alma mater through our Australian housemate Jenny, I had to know more just out of curiosity. Through two questions of my innocent curiosity, turns out Daniele is living in the same house I lived my final year of studying at SDSU. She lives in the upstairs or as I know it, BJ's old room. Go figure, a simple dinner conversation which started as meeting just another friend of a friend turns out we happen to know the same neighbors and friends in another hemisphere.



What a small world it is.



This concept has always amazed me, partly to the fact we live in a planet filled with 6 billion inhabitants. Six freakin billion people! It really sparked my interest when my brother and I happened to encounter several peer travelers in two different countries in the Eurotour '07. However, the European backpacker community follows similar course partly in result to it being one of the most saturated routes for world travelers. Therefore, enough justification was on the table for the 'small world' philosophy to be fully convincing. However, my semi-annual life in Argentina has pushed me looking back into the eyes of six degrees of separation. Many of my current friends here, mainly those with whom we play futbol games, were introduced indirectly via my good buddy Amit, who lives in San Diego. Amit visited us in February and met a nice English lad Josh on the plane back from Rio de Janeiro (Carnaval) to Buenos Aires. We proceeded to play games of futbol with Josh and his friends, many of whom are now our closest buddies.



What a small world it is.



I now find it very difficult to disprove the six degrees of separation. The few travels I have thus far tracked in my lifetime have illustrated a common theme of one person knowing another through mutual contacts. The emergence of social networking on the internet will only bring people closer together, I'm convinced. The challenge for social networking sites such as Facebook, Myspace, LinkedIn, etc. appears to lie in how to consolitate them all into one platform. A natural need for human beings is to be in contact with others, thus the creation of the internet. Each word that I write in this moment and upload for your viewing comes from my simple need to connect some message or thought to you. The need of connecting to others is one that has not been overlooked since the emergence of the internet. As of March 2008, nearly 1.5 billion of the 6.5 billion people on the planet have internet access according to http://www.internetworldstats.com/. The world average of internet use has grown by 290% just since the turn of the millenium.



Just think about how many people you may have in your social networks. All that time dedicated to social networking sites these days was once invested in the chat rooms just eight years ago. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand that the six degrees of separation is here and has been for a while. This trend is definitely closing the gaps between those in our network, hence the six degrees of separation could soon become a divided number, to the delight of statisticians all over the world. Hopefully they'll all be connected through one platform to form an outstanding principle greeted with little speculation.



Even if you thought we wouldn't see each other in a while, we may soon find each other through our friends.



What a small world it is!

One's Life into Literature

If there was a book about your life, would anyone want to read it?



I can't recall where I heard this or whom I heard it from for that matter. However, this is a question that lodged itself into my memory bank and pulls at my heart strings from time to time. Some wonder why Mike and I made the move to Argentina? It appears to some that we have no direction, we're just aimlessly globetrotting with no long term goals in mind. Let me spare any argument. It's true, there were no real long-term goals in the decision to move to Argentina, it was more of a whimsical decision with more of a soul-searching sentiment. As for myself, the catalyst to the excitement in booking a one-way ticket to another country lies in the question above.


How many autobiographies or biographies have you read in your lifetime? I find it fascinating in reading books about others' lives to see how I might relate with the author and/or characters that carry the plot. I'm currently reading "Between a Rock and a Hard Place" by Aron Ralson. He's also very well known for being the guy who survived a climbing accident in Utah in 2003 by cutting his own arm off, which was stuck between a boulder and a canyon wall, to escape and survive. Reading about the moments leading up to his gutsy actions in survival mode is fascinating. I find it to be educational on how to handle the metaphorical situations in life of being between a rock and a hard place. The countless other autobiographies and biographies I've read or even skimmed have all brought me to thinking about my own life tale.

In one of the many conversations Mike and I have had about travel and the wonders of all corners of the planet , he made a great point. "Everyone should write their own book," he claimed matter-of-factly. Each person has their own perception and can tell about it in their unique form. Some do it better than others but nonetheless something can be learned from each author. Writing about your own life tales may also aid in an objective view of your own story. Imagine how you might look at your past, present and future if you take a peek from the outside instead of the usual subjective focus. I'm now a true believer that everyone is the author of their own book and only they can dictate the next chapter. What's the most exciting thing that has happened in this current chapter of your book? Maybe the objective view will provoke more excitement or better yet, more appreciation of our individual tales.

Who knows? Maybe one day when you and I are famous, our rough draft will be waiting on the publisher's doorstep.