You might be a porteño if...

You might be a porteño if a rainy day is the equivalent of a snow day in Seattle.

It rained really hard last night and the sky was threatening more rain on my way to work this morning. Normally riding the subway is hot, uncomfortable, and your personal space is always being violated because all the people are packed like sardines. A normal person would probably be thinking, "God I hope no one pick-pockets me," but my worries usually are more like, "God I hope no one farts." BUT, not this morning. This morning, Buenos Aires is like a ghost town. Everyone looked out their windows and decided the risk of slipping on the sidewalk or possibly getting wet was just too big of a risk to take.

Takin' Care of Business!

Downtown, view of the famous Obelisk. This is the general are where
we work on a daily basis.

I guess when you actually live and work somewhere, it's not always fun and games.  Well, it's mostly work that rains on our adventure planning parades. BUT, work is a good thing and we're thankful for our jobs. In the last few weeks, we really have not done anything I would label an "adventure." Unless you count riding the subway. We've been in this funny spot where we're still trying to get used to our new schedules and get settled.  
However, we are moving next weekend, which will make everything all caddywampus again. Our new place is a quiet (almost impossible to find) apartment in San Telmo and we're living with another couple. When we went to look at the apartment, they offered us a beer, so we liked them immediately. There will be more details and pictures of the new place to come in future posts.

Our food of the week is...
Cafe con leche and medialunas!

(coffe with milk and croissants)

There is a cafe pretty much on every corner of every block. In the late afternoon, you can see porteños inside drinking cafe con leche and snacking on a few medialunas. You'll see businessmen looking over whatever it is businessmen look over, families, and friends just chatting away. Since Buenos Aires has so much European influence, the tradition of drinking afternoon tea or coffee is almost a natural instinct. We have both taken to drinking cafe con leche with medialunas in the afternoon as well. Sometimes we can meet up and discuss our classes, or other times on our own, we'll find a seat by the window and do some lesson planning. We still haven't mastered sipping one cup of coffee for an hour and a half like some of the old porteños, but it's a ritual Jesse and I have really grown to enjoy.






Also, for those of you who wanted it, here is the Pascualina recipe:
Pascualina is an Argentine dish that is basically a big empanada pie. Our friend Jenny came over and we made it together. There was nothing left, so obviously we thought it was delicious.

Pascualina Picante

Serves 3 people

2 Phyllo dough or empanada dough crusts (you can find empanada dough at latin food markets)

3/4 lb. lean ground beef

¼ red onion, diced

2 cups chopped zucchinis (or butternut sqush for more sweetness) - 1 inch pieces

1 large red bell pepper, chopped

½ cup mozzarella cheese, shredded

3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

2 tsp. hot sauce or chili flakes (or more if you like)

1 tbsp. paprika

½ tsp. dried parsley

½ tsp. dried oregano

a pinch of pepper and salt

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. In a pie dish, lay down the bottom layer of the phyllo/empanada dough.
2. In a large non-stick skillet over medium-high heat, cook the ground beef and onions until it starts to brown up.
3. Reduce the heat to medium. Add the garlic, hot sauce, piemento, dried oregano, and salt & pepper. Stir to incorporate everything.
4. Add the zapallitos/butternut squash/zucchini to the pan and sauté for 5 minutes.
5. Add the bell peppers and mozzarella, and sauté for 5 minutes.
6. Spoon the whole mixture into the pie dish and spread into an even layer.
7. Lay the 2^nd phyllo/empanada dough on top of the mixture.
8. Fold the edges over neatly and crimp closed with your fingers. The edges should lay against the side of the pie dish.
9. Poke holes in the dough with a fork and spread the top with ½ tsp. of olive oil.
10. Bake for 20 minutes or until the dough is golden brown. Slice like a pie to eat.

This is what it looks like:

You Might Be a Porteño If...

Over the past six weeks, we've noticed some things about living here in Buenos Aires.  Perhaps you will find these things in other cities or you will tell us, "Duh, you see that everywhere."  If so, we don't care.  For the  most part, these are things we've noticed that are more or less unique to here or keys to living in BA.  We'll add these every now and again as they're noticed.  So here's the first installment:

You might becoming a porteño if:

You have developed a sixth sense to avoid the dog crap that is all over the sidewalks, without even looking down, as you walk.

A little of this and a little of that

This blog is kind of a cluster of random stuff we’ve been meaning to write about, hence the seemingly unrelated topics.

JOBS! What a strange thing, to have a job that you trained for. Jesse and I both have teaching jobs with a few different English Academies. We’re working with adults only, and most of our classes are less than 6 students. Our students are generally professionals: managers, executives, etc. Many of our lessons will be centered around business related English and some will be general English lessons. We’ve been joking around that we feel like big shots, because our Academies have some really big clients. Jesse is teaching mostly at the FOX News affiliate in Buenos Aires during the week. One of my students is the Argentine executive of Shell. I know, right?! Real, grown up jobs with other grown ups!

We’re not making much money (approx. 35 pesos per hour = $9 American), and we will probably only work around 25 hours per week (poor us, wah wah). So we’re not rolling in cash, but we’re not poor. We’ll make plenty of money to live, eat and drink well, and have a plethora of adventures.  

Mine on the left: Choclate hazelnut and pistachio.
Jesse's on the right: Panna cotta and chocolate w/ orange

Yesterday was my birthday, so now I am officially 25 years young. I think I can say I’m in my mid-20’s now. Jesse and I celebrated quietly. However, we went out to dinner at this little Italian restaurant and it was de-freakin-licious. We started with a meat platter, then had beef involtini and osso bucco. The part of the meal that stood out the most was the gelato for dessert. Jesse accurately described that it was like eating a cloud.

Last night, I had a momentary lapse in judgment and suggested we just stay in.  Luckily Jesse told me to cowgirl the F-up and get dressed to go get some beers. We went to this place called Bullers, a brewery by the Recoleta Cemetery just a few blocks away. It’s not the best place because the beer is overpriced due to it being in a touristy location, but good beer is really hard to come by in Argentina, and I hadn’t had an IPA in a long time. I know, some of you were hoping we’d burn this place down. But that will come in time, my friends.

Beers at Bullers Brewery

Our food of the week is Alfajores! Alfajores are probably the most popular sweet treat here. They’re little cakes, separated by dulce de leche, and then dipped in chocolate. Dulce de leche is basically caramel, only it stays soft and gooey. Porteños are obsessed with dulce de leche. It is in and on everything.

Generally, alfajores look like little candy sandwiches and are sometimes double decker style. The “cake” inside can sometimes be a little chalky for my taste, but Jesse loves it all. However, Jesse has never met a cookie/cake/candy/mostly sugary treat that he has not liked. I’m surprised I haven’t ever caught him just spooning refined sugar into his mouth before.

So, we’ve been doing lots of “research” on different alfajores. I, of course, like the ones with a really thick chocolate coating. Jesse loves the brand “Cachafaz” (the white one and one in the back mostly eaten)...and pretty much all alfajores in general.

In case you were wondering, he is indeed licking the crumbs off the plate.

One day we’ll send some home. J

Superclasico!

Editor’s note: This is overdue and long.  I am sorry.  I love sports and this was an amazing experience.

Off the bus and into the wild...

Last Sunday Lindsay and I witnessed one of the most spectacular sporting events in the world.  The Superclasico, the bi-annual, ultimate rival game between River Plate and Boca Juniors, is unparalleled to anything I have ever seen.  I have seen a football team waltz into the Superbowl, some of the greatest pitchers of our generation to palm a ball pitch gems, one of the greatest home run hitters ever stroke homers like slicing butter, and magicians on the hardwood.  All these are well and good, but the Superclasico is on a plane all its own.

Walking up Brandsen.

We got off the bus at a non-descript place, but quickly found ourselves among a hoard of Boca fans being corralled up Brandsen (the street) like a cattle.  The atmosphere, four hours before game time, was already electric.  The chanting started, sidewalk asado filled the streets with a heavenly aroma serving as a pre-curser to a delicious game, and banderas (flags) of the Boca Juniors rose high in the air as people swore allegiance to their precious club.

La Policia separating Boca fans from River fans

As we neared the first of three security checkpoints, we looked to the south towards the next street.  Police in riot gear were standing guard on our end of the street with another line of them on the other side of the block.  We quickly learned the other side is where the River fans stream into the stadium and avoid pre-game unpleasentries, Boca fans and River fans are separated.

INTERLUDE:  A quick history of the rivalry.  Both teams used to play in the barrio of La Boca.  In the 1930s, River purchased land and subsequently built a stadium in the north part of town, Nunez, a richer area.  River, who had more money, now created a rivalry that not only included soccer as its main theme, but a classic clash of class, the poor (Boca) vs. the rich (River).

As we approached La Bombonera (named for its likeness to a box of bon-bons), you could spot River fans in the upper reaches of the stadium.  Insults poured from Boca fans from below and echoed right back by River fans, who accompanied their insults with dirty water balloons and spit.  Police patted us down as we went through the turnstile, thus officially becoming part of the thousands of Boca supporters.

One of huge banderas

Inside, the scene bordered on ballistic.  Chants and songs that both razzed Las Gallinas (the chickens- Boca’s nickname for River) and reminded fans of the proud glory Boca had, filled the stadium like a cold glass of the bartender’s finest brew.  And the bellows of the crowd grew deeper and louder and stronger with each soul that poured in and surrounded the pitch, as their frenzy, dare I say in lieu of the beer reference, was quickly coming to a head as game time drew closer.  Then the band across from us struck up to lead the songs with a fuller resonance, amping up the excitement another notch.  Then the players came out.  Chants of crowd favorites like, Requelme, who dons the hallowed number 10 kit, and Palermo, the savvy veteran forward, ranking fifth all-time in scored goals in the rivalry and playing in his final Superclasico, rang out as each syllable of their names were called out in unison by 45,000 fans.  The chants grew, the concrete stands began to sway, the ref put the ball down, blew his whistle and…

The fans

Game time.

The game was awesome!  Honestly, pretty sloppy play, but this didn’t damper the passion and excitement from the crowd.  Boca fans relentlessly shouted vulgar names (which I shall not repeat) at the players who could not hear them, groaned for every non-call that was not made, and waited with bated breath every time a goal seemed even close to imminent.  And then paydirt.  The ball was crossed on a corner kick and as the keeper fell back, it went off the heel of his left hand, and bounced across his body into the goal.  1-0 Boca.  Five minutes later, who else, but the man of the hour, the hero in the hearts of all Boca fans, and a man even River fans respect, Palermo, found the back of the net with a gorgeous header.  2-0 Boca.  Palermo’s name sang out as Boca took a commanding 2-0 first half lead.  And the place. Went.  NUTS.  To say they cheered loudly is a vast understatement.  It was pandemonium.  It was impossible not to get swept up in the moment.  It was hard to keep your balance, but the surge of energy kept everyone in their place, cushioned by the power of moment.  Awesome.

A view of the pitch

Throughout the game, the chants never died, HUGE flags that spanned the entire height of the stadium were unveiled, and La 12 (the 12^th Man) were raucous.  You couldn’t look up though as we sat right below the visiting River fans and right at the edge of their ledge, so spit, Coke and anything else liquid (use your imagination here) that could be “released” fell from above.  It wasn’t constant, but we all had a loogi or two land on us (Lindsay had one on her face, poor girl).  Now, Lindsay and I went into this game a neutral party, deciding to cheer for the team that endeared themselves to us the most.  Needless to say, if the atmosphere didn’t absorb us into Boca allegiance (which it did), then the spitting made the choice of whom to root for even easier.  Boca all the way, baby!

The game ended with the 2-0 holding on to be the final score.  We then stood for 45 minutes as the River fans left first.  They didn’t leave quietly though.  They threw bags filled with soda, big plastic wrapped up streamers, and eventually hunks of concrete at the Boca fans taunting them from below.  No love lost.  And no one appeared hurt.

Our night concluded with pizza and beer at a local Boca tavern with our tour group.  We drank, chanted, laughed, sang, and ate.  They unfurled a large banner that engulfed the bar.  It was a joyous time.

Boca won.

A true spectacle of sport that will be hard to match in my lifetime.

Viva Boca!!

Road House Stew

I know some of you have been waiting on a post about the Boca vs. River game. I assure you, there will be one by the end of this weekend. We've been sleep deprived this week, what with our last big project for school being due.

Anyways, back to this strange sounding stew. I feel like the best dishes always have weird names. With 25 people living at the Road House, the kitchen gets cramped, especially around dinner time. Our kitchen tool supply is pretty scarce as well. We've taken to making one pan, one pot-type meals because they are easy and only require one stove burner. I have made this stew twice now and we're in love. I wouldn't exactly call it "Argentine cuisine," but it includes typical Argentine ingredients and foods I can find at the little produce stands. Some of you may not be that into cooking and the like, but I know some of you will appreciate this. Who knows, maybe someone will make it and have a taste of something from here. And I forgot to take a picture of it. It just looks like stew, though. It wouldn't win any photography awards or anything.

1 package chorizo, casing removed and meat ground up with a wooden spoon
1 large batata or sweet potato*, cut into bite size pieces
2 medium sized leeks, finely sliced and the very tops discarded (I like the green and the white parts)
1 medium eggplant, chopped into bite sized pieces (do not peel it!)
2 cups white mushrooms, finely sliced
2 cloves garlic, finely diced
Chicken stock - I'm not really sure how much, but enough to just cover all the ingredients in a pot
2 tsp dried pimiento (paprika will probably work, too)
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried parsley
1 tsp of something spicy - chili flakes, sriracha, hot sauce, cayenne, etc.
1/2 tsp salt and pepper

1. Pre-chop all your ingredients.
2. Toss the eggplant in a bowl in about 3 tsp. of salt. Let it sit for 2 minutes. The salt draws alot of the bitter juice out of the eggplant, so it doesn't flavor the stew. After 2 minutes, rinse it in cold water. Set aside.
3. Heat a soup pot over medium hight heat. Add the chorizo. Cook it until it starts to leave brown bits on the bottom of the pot. Do not drain the fat! Unless you have more than a couple tablespoons in the pan.
4. Add the batata/sweet potato and leeks. Stir and saute for about 2-3 minutes.
5. Add the eggplant and musrooms. Stir for 1 minute.
6. Add the chicken stock, garlic, and all of the seasonings.
7. Stir together and bring to a simmer. Let it simmer for 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally.
8. Turn the heat down to medium, and let it simmer lightly for another 10 minutes.
9. EAT!

*Batata is a sweet potato they have down here. It's purple and has whitish flesh. I have no idea if we have it in the States or not. They look like this:

If you tell me this will make a great story in a couple years/we will laugh about this in a couple years again...I'm going to lose it.

What? Your doctor doesn't recommend alcohol
consumption as an effective way to deal with a
stressful day?

Today was one of the worst days EVER. This morning, we took what we thought was going to be a quick trip to this place to buy tickets for the Boca Juniors vs. River Plate game tomorrow. We brought a debit card, thinking they would surely take them what with people paying large amounts of money to go to the game tomorrow (tickets are going for 800 pesos). It’s not a good idea to walk around with a ton of cash in your pocket. And of course, they didn’t take cards. Jesse and I proceeded to walk 3 blocks up the road to a bank so we could withdraw money from our bank account. The card didn’t work. Ok, I was really thirsty, so we bought a water and asked someone where another bank was. We found a second bank. Our card didn’t work again. After two more tries at different banks, and at least an hour of walking around, we decided to go back to the ticket store and see what our options were. Something was obviously wrong with our card and there was no way we were getting cash. We headed back to this store and we finally made them understand that we have the damn money, we just couldn’t get it out of the bank. So they decided they would make an exception for us and run our card. Yay! Well, our card was declined twice more. At this point, a trip that should have taken us an hour was going on taking us 3 hours and we hadn’t eaten anything yet. We figured that our card was frozen because we had tried unsuccessfully to withdraw a large amount of money at several different banks.

So we decided to go home, eat lunch, grab a different credit card, and head back to the ticket store later. Once we got home with some empanadas, it was apparent we were not going to be able to go look at a potential apartment rental or go to Crossfit later in the afternoon like we had planned. Great. Then, we checked our bank account online and were surprised to see we had almost $700 less in our account than we should have. We noticed 2 separate purchases at 2 different stores for the exact amount, made on a day we had not used our debit card. The realization of what happened hit us at the same time: our account numbers had been stolen and we had been robbed. How? We’re still not sure. The next 3-4 hours consisted of us trying to get in touch with Bank of America, finally paying for an exorbitantly expensive phone call with a bank representative who was not in the least bit helpful, trying to get in touch with our parents, and trying to figure out how in the hell we were going to be able to get money in a foreign country with a frozen bank account. Jesse’s parents weren’t home. My parents were driving through the desert in Arizona. Wait, why in the hell are they driving through the desert? Good question.

Luckily, we worked everything out the best we could for the moment. After that, we still had to go purchase the Boca vs. River SuperClasico game tickets. Jesse made the long trip all the way back to the store. Of course, his credit card was declined after trying to make a big purchase in a foreign country. This resulted in him and another Road House resident finding an internet café, and calling the credit card company to authorize international purchases. He and Tom took a really roundabout way home, and so I, of course, was starting to get worried by the time he got home. I am happy to report, even after this emotional roller coaster of a day, that everyone is OK, we will be getting a new bank card soon, and we managed to buy tickets to the SuperClasico.

Jesse with his hard earned tickets!

In a nutshell, it’s been a long fucking day.

Why did we go to so much trouble to get tickets to this soccer game? There is a ton of soccer in Argentina. We can see a Boca or River game anytime. Yes, but a Boca Juniors vs. River Plate game is one of the most ferocious rivalries in the world. We’ve heard it’s one of the most exciting/crazy sports matches (sports match…not just soccer) to watch in person in the world (did I say that already?). Don't believe me? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supercl%C3%A1sico

More to come after tomorrow!