On the Road to Find Out

I finally got to enjoy some of the perks of writing, that is if I’m not counting that CD I received a couple of weeks ago which I played once, got all Irish folk-ed out and swiftly moved on with my life, when I got to eat out at some fancy restaurant which won UruguayNow’s award for Best Restaurant. It also became apparent that I was completely out of my depth as I refused a starter when I temporarily forgot that I was not having to shelve the bill and then went for the imported German beer when a list of some of Uruguay’s finest wines was put in front of me. “Just a beer thanks” I believe were my words. And then I didn’t even choose the most expensive thing on the menu. I went for the lamb risotto (based on the fact that my current boss said that I had to try it) and it didn’t disappoint. It was incredible in fact, like someone had managed to combine a good roast lamb dinner and mediterranean cuisine and stuck it right there on the plate. Chocolate fondant and maracuya (passionfruit) ice cream followed which shouldn’t really need a description, and if it did, it would only involve the word ‘sensual’ repeated over and over again.

How odd it was after knocking back a limoncello, having a quick wipe on the chin and then shuffling over to the door with an arm in the air and a few obligatory ‘hasta luego’s’ to not even think about having to pay the bill. It would have come to something around what I normally spend in a week. Maybe the first of many, who knows? It is certain I need to get some practice in though, I need to learn the words ‘vintage’ and ‘lobster’ as soon as possible!

Some of my writing has been featured on the Museyon website. A piece called In a Nutshell: Candombe. I just read it again now it’s online and can’t believe how many mistakes I made. On top of that, a few more have crept in since it’s been published. Damn! Well, hopefully it won’t be my last piece for them, the plan is to write a few more in a similar vein.

When I first decided that I would stay in South America over Christmas I have to admit I was a little concerned that maybe I would miss it. Now that all festivities have passed and we are well into the swing of January there is no doubt that it was the right move and I would recommend everyone from England to book a flight and get the hell of that island next time Santa comes round, and not even just for the week of Christmas, the two weeks before and after too!

The lack of pressures is an absolute delight. No need to worry about co-ordinating those work-related Xmas parties, having to contend with the thousands of presents getting stuffed in your eyeholes via the tv, newspapers, Internet, shop window and whatever other surface happens to be facing in your direction between October and December, but most of all, the ability to get the hell out of the house. The ability to go to the beach, go to a poolside party, have a couple of beers in the park, these are the sort of things we should be doing when we have two weeks off work, not sat inside our houses watching 3-hour long episodes of Coronation Street and finding out the exact point when your body is ready to vomit from eating too many nut truffles. It’s such a waste of free time!

Now we’re two weeks into January and the fact that not one single person I have spoken to has mentioned a resolution of any kind, no diets, no yoga videos, no gym memberships or anything else that basically relates to the marketing of health-related products to people sitting on couches, stuffed with turkey and chocolate. Everyone actually seems pretty happy and in fact are more preoccupied with getting out to the beach while they have some free time than anything else.

God, I ended up ranting a little bit there. I do apologise! In a slightly diagonal note, I now have a camera after both my camera and mp3 player broke. I forked out for a multi-functional mp3/mp4/camera/voice-recorder thing-a-me-job. I figured it should be christened with a couple of photos. So here goes:

So this is the first one, just a quick shot of my current pad, up on there on the eighth floor. It’s the balcony just before the top.

And more importantly. This is my ticket to the Bimbo Cup, taking place tonight. I have been reliably informed there will be at least 70,000 bimbos in attendance. This seems like an adequate number. More interestingly, though, is the fact that I will get to see two football matches. The first, Danubio, featuring a ridiculously over-weight Alvaro Recoba, against Nacional, current champions of Paraguay, and the second, Nacional v Penarol, just about one of the biggest rivalries in football, or it would be if these two teams hadn’t been pretty rubbish for the last 20 years. Anyway, normally it is sold out. Stupidly, I forgot to buy a ticket before today and had to pay for the expensive seat. A whopping 5 pounds! It would have been 3 quid if I had acted faster.

My ticket to the Bimbo Cup

It’s taken me a little while longer than I wanted to wake up from this haze. As stated before, Buenos Aires is dangerous over the Christmas period, especially when you’re sleeping on the floor in a mosquito breeding ground, being consistently woken up by a Brazilian ‘meditating’ in the adjoining room and a crazy Dutchman who doesn’t seem to realise that stepping on someone while he’s sleeping is not entirely necessary.

I’ve been in Montevideo now since late on Friday night and have been in my new apartment since Sunday. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a place to myself and found it very easy to slip into the regime of walking around in my pants the whole time. It does help that I’m on the eighth floor and also that the temperature is excruciating at times. I’m not sure I would get away with this behaviour in Sneinton. I have no doubt Chardonnay would have already started shouting abuse at me by now and that maybe even Terry would have begun to question my judgement.

It’s so nice to actually have a job right now that doesn’t involve solely designing a web site. Actually means that I have the impulse to get out there and do some research. I am in charge of writing about football and music for the new site, as well as writing a few hostel/bar reviews. Any reason to go out for a beer basically.

At the moment we just have a holding page, http://www.uruguaynow.com but soon it should be something quite nice indeed I hope.

Right, now I need some sun! Ciao!

I’m back in Buenos Aires, and as is the custom, I have headed over to Nacho’s for my usual spot on the terrace. The last time I visited Nacho he had made a special dinner of boiled cow’s stomach (mondongo). This time he had gone for something a little different. There was some polenta in the fridge he had cooked 4 days ago, decided it was too salty, added loads of water to it, and then left. It had a strange consistency. He fried it in a pan until the bottom was black, then served it up. It was better than the mondongo. The next day he apologised. I can’t complain though, apart from his culinary skills the guy’s an absolute legend, who has always been more than happy for me to come and use his house as his own whenever in town.

Yesterday we tried to make dulce de leche. It didn’t work out quite right, ended up more like caramel, hence the naming as caramelo de leche. But it’s got a label, made by Los Balconcitos (the little balconies), it’s both worthless and priceless, and is 100% energy. Not bad! Here’s the end product:

That guy really can’t help but close his eyes when the camera flashes.

They took my scissors and cheese sandwich as I passed through customs. I’m not really sure they understand the nature of swine flu.

As with most people travelling from Buenos Aires to Uruguay, I am making a stopoff in Colonia. A beautiful World Heritage Site town; a Bob Ross interpretation of colonial Uruguay, probably not aware of it’s aesthetic kinship to Portmeirion. I could then go on to say how the place resembles ‘The Prisoner’ tv series more so than Portmeirion itself, the eerie shell of a colonial era, a town full of menacing history ala Salem, the echoes of day-to-day life ringing around the crumbling edifices. This would in fact be a load of horse shit.

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After 4 weeks in Buenos Aires my initial writing habit has begun to whither. There are a number of reasons for this:

• the appearance of Paynod & Rach

Okay, there’s just one reason for this, but it’s a good reason. Time has been occupied by parillas, football and and a wide variety of housemates. Most notable impact has to go to this fella:

Choripan

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Just a quick update.

Mario, the portero, asked me if I wanted to go to a gay club with him tonight. At first I thought he was joking, but after asking me 5 or 6 times I had to take him seriously. I feel our relationship could be heading to the next level! I have brushed him off for now though. I told him next week would be better. I hope he doesn’t realise that I’m moving out on Thursday!

I’m currently staying in an apartment in Palermo Hollywood (this is it’s official name but someone had a go at me yesterday for saying it. Apparently it’s a bit pompous. He much prefers Palermo Viejo. Maybe that’s what I should go with) in Buenos Aires.

My roommate is a guy called Alaric. He’s from the US (though if you ask him where he’s from he’ll say New Mexico. I think he’s trying to hide his roots!). He spends all day in bed. Although to be fair I should write; he spends all day in his bed, with his girlfriend. Normally they have the door open so I get to see into their world. He works away on his laptop while she lies there. Sometime they close the door. I can only imagine what they get up to then. Scrabble maybe. It’s normally followed by a shower so they must be pretty heated games.

The best thing about living in an apartment here though is the portero, which is basically a janitor. It’s taken me a while to get used to kissing him every time I see him, but other than that this guy is an absolute gem. Every question I have he has an answer. He knows everything. And he fixes everything double quick. Only two days ago did we have a leaky tap. Problem was solved in about 10 minutes. He does keep insisting I need to strengthen up though, mainly through buying polenta. I think maybe he’s on the polenta marketing board or something.

It’s impossible to ignore the portero’s advice though and so I have bought polenta. No immediate effect yet but I am hopeful.

(Oh yeah, and days of grapes and honey. This is the Spanish version of Days of Milk and Honey. I think maybe they’re forgetting the versatility of milk. Although thinking about this you can make wine out of grapes. You can’t make alcohol out of milk and it does go a bit funny after a few days (unless you have a magical Ecoworks fridge) so I might have to rethink this. Umm…)

I feel a little like Bobby Brown first thing in the morning; bewildered, confused, wondering what´s taking Whitney so long with those bleeding eggs.

I´m not sure I was ready for the city just yet. Wishing I could get out of bed, make my way to the porch, lie in a hammock and listen to the trees while occasional cats come by to say hello, with Daniela making some amazing lunch in the kitchen which she is about to tell me is ready.

I think I had it pretty cushy in that house of the forest. I may just have to go back there at some point.