High Altitude Dumplings

A few lucky finds of fresh (packaged) wonton wrappers, mung bean sprouts, ground pork, and zucchini in the central market here in Huaraz led to a delightful dinner of homemade dumplings, both fried and in soup. Thank goodness for Peru's large Chinese population!



Dumplings:

1/2 kilo ground pork
2 c chopped fresh mung bean sprouts
1 c shredded/julienned zucchini
2 c chopped scallions (or Chinese onions, as they're locally known)
1 egg
1 tbsp fresh grated ginger
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cracked black pepper

Won ton wrappers

Combine all ingredients except for the wrappers and mix thoroughly, let chill for an hour or so. Fill wrappers and seal shut with a bit of water brushed (or in this case, applied with the fingertips) around the edges. Cook 5-7 minutes in boiling water, or until wrappers are cooked through; to fry, cook 3 minutes, remove and pan fry in oil over medium heat, until golden and crispy on the outside. We made the soup by adding vegetable boullion and salt to the cooking water, and dropping a few eggs in and stirring for the last minute.

Dipping sauce:
1 tbsp sugar melted in 2 tbsp warm water
2 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp chopped scallions
1 tbsp toasted & slightly crushed sesame seeds
dried or fresh grated ginger to taste

Mix all together and serve. Can be used as dipping sauce or to flavor soup broth.

Christmas with the Russell-Jenkinses

I may have mentioned already that my trip has had really no direction or schedule, but the one date I had to make was Christmas. Nina and Joe have recently moved down to Huaraz, Peru, where they both work with a local after-school program. With all of us so far from Seattle we knew it would be nice to have a bit of home for the holidays, so I managed to plan far enough ahead to get me here by the 22nd.

Joe and Nina share their apartment with the loveliest people, Jan and Shelly, who gave me an amazingly warm welcome and felt like family immediately, cracking jokes and making sure I felt as comfortable as possible. A few days before I arrived, Joe and Nina had run into an old coworker of Joe's, Merilee, who along with her brother Eric is biking down to Santiago from San Diego, CA (They've got a blog, too). They were traveling with a fellow biker from Italy, Antonio, so the 8 of us made for nice big family. We started off with a spirited Christmas party at the school complete with clown/MC, Joe in a Santa suit and a spritely green holiday creature. Christmas Eve we collaborated on an amazing dinner, which I failed to take any pictures of because by the time it was ready I was too hungry to think about anything but piling it all on my plate and scarfing it down as rapidly as possible.

In Huaraz, the big to-do is Christmas Eve, when families gather for a big dinner and then wait for midnight. As comatose as we all were after our meal, we managed to stay awake to witness the excitement, and it was worth it. At midnight, the town exploded with fireworks, shot off from what seemed like every street corner and backyard. It was unbelievably loud even from inside the apartment, but when we went up on the roof to watch it was like we were at the 4th of July on steroids. Fireworks were shooting up on all sides; most of them were fairly lackluster, with just a spark shooting straight upwards and dissolving into smoke, but they were all loud enough to cover any visual inadequacies.

After about ten minutes, people started setting off their showy finales, and as I was filming some off in the distance, we were bombarded with a big set right over our heads. I've tried several times now to load the video, but alas, you'll have to do without the sounds of me screaming and the shaky shooting as I held my camera hand out in front of me for protection. Maybe someday when my internet connection is better...

After our thrilling/terrifying rooftop experience, it was time for bed. I woke up the next morning to a tree full of presents, though- tragically- not all for me, and a surprise mimosa and chocolate from Jan and Shelly! Is it any wonder I love them so much already?

Christmas mimosa! Or a "Buck's Fizz" as the Welsh folk called it.

Three happy Seattle-ites in some brand new knitwear.

Iguazu Falls and the Devil's Throat

I must say that for having set very few dates and making almost no actual plans, my trip so far has had a way of working itself out beautifully so far. (Knock on wood. Hard.) After my morning spent working on that pesky visa, I had just enough time left in my day to visit the main attraction in the town of Puerto Iguazu: Iguazu Falls.

I took the bus out to the park, a lovely drive in itself with almost nothing more than bright green on all sides and the occasional butterfly. Once I arrived I realized I had about an hour and a half at the park before I would have to leave for a shower at the hostel and a quick repacking before heading to the bus terminal. I headed for the info booth and was told to go straight to the Devil's Throat, the most important site to see in the park.

After a ride on the park's open-sided wooden passenger train, I got off along with about 13 cars' worth of other visitors and headed toward what I only knew to be a really effing huge waterfall:



Praying that the metal walkways holding me a few meters above a seemingly endless river were well-maintained and rust-free, I followed them faithfully past many scenic views of green and river vista.

Like this one.

After about twenty minutes of walking along the walkways in the hot sun, with the sweat, sunburn, and DEET all running together in stinging beads down my forehead and my camera full of nearly identical river shots, I began to wonder if this giant waterfall would be worth it.

Finally, I looked ahead to see a break in the waterscape:

Hm.

This is about where a breeze started to move across the walkway, a heavy mist was spritzing us over, and I began hoping in earnest for sturdy construction on the only thing keeping us all from being sucked into a watery abyss.

And then space and time began swirling downward into oblivion...

Aaaaaaagggghhhhhh!

As if.

After sloshing around the soggy viewing platform and taking as many photos as possible without ruining my camera, and hoping that my sunscreen hadn't all run off, I made my way back to the bus and my hostel, and then the bus terminal for my last night in Argentina.

The friendly staff at Hostel Inn Iguazu. Just kidding. It's some sort of reptile. But the staff were lovely.

Buenos Aires: a photo recap

La Boca, a neighborhood in Buenos Aires with a couple of streets still painted in (I'm told) the old style with bright colors. The tourist area is called Caminito, and is really about two square blocks. Everywhere else in the neighborhood is reputed to be pretty dangerous, with stories of locals and foreigners being beaten and robbed. I stuck to the two square blocks.

Church at Cementario Recoleta, the famed cemetery in one of Buenos Aires' wealthier neighborhoods in which Eva Peron is buried along with many artists, government and military officials, and other well known citizens of Argentina's history.

The requisite photo of Evita's family tomb.

My favorite bits were the places where the skyline of quietly aging tombs inside the cemetery merged with that of the bustling, modern world outside.

A cool building.

A beautiful garden in the Parque 3 Febrero. The first time I tried to visit it I took the wrong avenida and ended up back at the cemetery, which meant I spent most of the rest of the afternoon window shopping.

Mastering the art of self-portraiture.

A parrot!

The metal flower in the UN Square, which opens and closes with sunrise and sunset (approximately) each day. I found my way here in an attempt to get back to the Parque 3 Febrero.

A 20-foot tall Christmas tree made out of recycled juice cartons, part of a village made from recycled materials in the UN square.

I never knew how much elephants love Christmas.

$10 Steak Dinner

Two steaks each, too.

Buses, waterfalls, and visas

No posts in a few days, as most of them have been spent in transit. I left BA on Saturday for Iguazu Falls, a 20 hour bus ride away. Luckily, it was the nicest bus ride I've ever experienced, with fully reclining seat, meals, and movies (in English!). Plus free wine with dinner. I arrived in Puerto Iguazu the next day, only slightly groggy, and hopped a cab with two fellow travelers to the Hostel Inn. Lucky for me, they had an open space, as I seem to be chronically incapable of planning ahead lately. It was mind-numbingly hot and humid, and they had a beautiful pool, so that was the first thing I did. Then I sat for awhile and stared into space. Then I jumped in the pool again.

After a shower, I headed out with my new friends, two sisters from Boulder, and we took a local bus into town. We stopped at the Three Point Vista, a bluff overlooking a fork in the river from which you can see both Paraguay and Brazil. We wandered around town for a bit, then had dinner: my last steak! And then went to bed.

The next day I woke up bright and early (7! AM!!) and headed to town to visit the Brazilian consulate. Having failed to get a visa both in Seattle and in BA, this was my last chance to get one, and would determine the final leg of my journey here in South America. I was sent from the consulate- in heavily Brazilian-accented Spanish- to an internet cafe, where I was to fill out an application and print a form, attach a passport photo, and return it with the fee to the office. If I did all this, I would have a visa by 1230. Sounds easy, no?

First internet cafe, recommended by consulate: printer's broken. Second internet cafe, which was recommended by first: cerrado. At this point I have no more internet cafe suggestions, so I take a detour and go to the bank, where only one ATM has cash. There is a very long line of people, all of whom seem to have very complex tasks to accomplish with the machine and no sense of urgency. I finally manage to get my cash and decide to wander the centro in hopes of finding another internet cafe. Thank my lucky stars, I find one with both a printer and AC, and thank those stars again, I had passport photos taken in BA.

I get my form together and return to the consulate, where a really nice old man tells me in a mix of Portuguese and English to come back at 1230, when my visa might be ready. I'm sure my face looked crestfallen, and he starts explaining that sometimes the system is slow, there are lots of passports, etc. With his assurance that if it's not ready I can at least get my passport and money back, I leave and come back two hours later. To find that no visas will be issued that day. Network issues. The lobby is full of people waiting, some of whom get angry and demand their money back, others who have time to spare and plan to come back tomorrow, and the rest of us, desperate to get them and out of time with booked travels elsewhere.

I can't remember now how exactly anything was communicated from this point on; I'm sure it was a combination of Spanish, English, Portuguese, and gesture. The remaining six of us (two kiwis, another American, an Indian, and the Mexican cab driver waiting for the kiwis, plus me) decided to wait it out in the hope that something will happen. The staff closed the doors for the day, and we sat in a nervous, quiet semi-darkness for about 20 minutes. The really nice old man finally emerges from the back room with... my brand new visa!! It's all shiny and in color and still warm from the printer, stuck in my passport and ready to go. My fellow hopefuls even started clapping! It was a thrilling moment.

I wished everyone luck, thanked the nice old man profusely, and proceeded to the actual waterfalls, where I spent a breathtaking 45 minutes. Then I got back on another 20-hour bus, cabbed to BA's international airport, hopped a 5-hour flight to Lima, slept at the Inka Lodge, and finally caught an 8-hour bus up to Huaraz. Now, with a full morning of speaking Spanish behind me and a delicious chicken dinner and altitude pill in my belly, it's time for bed.

I am certain that one of life's great satisfactions is in licking an ice cream cone while walking in the sunlight on a hot summer day.

An afternoon ritual:

Mia goes to Barrio Chino

First it was Korean barbecue, and then came Chinatown. We had a late brunch of sesame noodles and wonton soup- two things I rarely even eat at home in Seattle- followed by a bubble tea. I certainly did not expect to be sucking down noodles and tapioca balls on this trip. And who knew that both the Koreans and Chinese had ventured so far and brought so much with them?*

The Korean barbecue house was packed with people, Argentine and Korean, and the food was both legit and delicious (legilicious?). Don't even get me started on Chinatown. We ate at a grocery store food counter that was two people deep with waiting diners. The store itself was insane; there was barely room to move between the aisles, the displays of imported food, and the many carts (often two to a person) piled high, and it was hard to tell between shoppers still browsing the aisles and those waiting in long lines to check out. Apparently there are many things like rice noodles, fresh seafood, and Jiffy peanut butter that can only be found in the few blocks that constitute Barrio Chino, and it's a popular place for restaurateurs to stock up.

Again, who knew?**

It's so lovely to be traveling and trying all sorts of delicious things like steak and empanadas, and since it's only been a week and a half so far I can't say that I've had much time to be too homesick. But it's been surprisingly comforting to find tastes of my regular life so far away in the southern hemisphere, before I've even had a chance to miss them. It's reassuring to hold chopsticks in my hand and see that I can still use them to move food from the plate to my mouth without spilling any sauce on myself. Even more reassuring to make that food really spicy and still be able to eat it without breaking a sweat.

Despite having the words "globalization" and "possibly" and "evil" floating around in my head as I write these next ones: I really liked having reminders of home while here in BA, and I'm kind of hoping I find more along the rest of this trip.***

*There are probably many statistics documenting the presence of both Korean and Chinese immigrants in BA and other large cities worldwide, but I don't read things like statistics.

**See above.

***Besides, the world started shrinking long before I was born, and me eating sesame noodles in Buenos Aires or hoping to find Sriracha in Lima is probably not going to bring about the end of local culture in either city.

That's right...

Korean barbecue + Argentine beef = wonder and joy. 

BA Street Art

Arte a la Malba

The Malba is a modern art museum that features works by Latin American artists. It's small enough to see in just a couple of hours, which is always nice, and it's housed in a lovely building with lots of light and a couple of outdoor spaces.

At the moment, their featured artist is Marta Minujin, an Argentine who has been working prolifically since the 1960's. A lot of her work has involved audience participation and been done on a grand scale, like a replica of the famous Obelisco of Buenos Aires covered in loaves of sweet bread which was unveiled and then dismantled, with all the loaves of bread given away to the viewers.

I first saw her on an episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations (The Argentina episode). She talked about using food in her art because then people can participate in the piece by eating it and then shitting it out (her words), and so the art itself is just a moment in time that goes the same way everything else does. It was a very comprehensive exhibit with pieces from different periods in her life, including a replica of a bedroom with a live couple laying in bed and a room built of mattresses, plus many of the sketches and models she made for her larger structures.

Sadly I have no photos, but there is plenty of information to be had on the internet, including her own website, and of course Wikipedia.

Seeing this exhibit was really exciting and inspiring in many ways. Though I'm not (yet) a world-renowned artist creating massive public works, I feel encouraged to look for my own ways of playing with the world around me. And when I feel sad that life is so inconstant and that the world is always changing, I hope I'll remember that eventually everything gets eaten and shit out, but there is always more beauty to be found and created. Who's to say that cooking and sharing a meal with a few friends isn't just as monumental as a Statue of Liberty covered in strawberries? After all, they both end the same way.

Rainy Day in BA

I love seeing what rainy days are like in other countries, and it's a good excuse to be lazy! The sun is back out though and I'm off to see some South American art at the Malba.

I'm in Argentina! And it's summer!

Last Meal in Paris: Chartier

Aujourd'hui, c'est un jour triste. I leave Paris bright and early tomorrow morning, and I'm finding it very hard to leave. Not least because I hate packing and have accumulated a number of new things to stuff into the same amount of space. But I will definitely miss this lovely city, especially now that the Christmas lights have gone up and I've finally learned how to dress for the weather.

Despite a frustrating case of jet lag, I've managed to do a lot of touristy sight seeing while still feeling like a local who lives in a fabulous apartment, (almost) seamlessly manages the Metro, shops for local produce at the Bastille market, and (gasp!) cuts in line. I've even had an almost complete conversation in French with a real French person. It's been très cool.

So for my final dinner, we couldn't do anything but have a delicious French dinner at a bustling brasserie just a short walk down our narrow, cobblestone street. Chartier was the perfect fit; an historic restaurant in a beautiful old building, it was a memorable Parisian dining experience and a wonderful way to close out my trip.

Mes amis!

Blanquettes de Veau à l'Ancien. I'm so sorry baby cow! You were delicious, but I'll probably never do this again.

The one that got away...

Poire Melba Chantilly. Oh my.

The waiters write your orders on the table and the bill from memory. No calculators, either.

Au revoir, Paris! I'll miss you terribly! But I don't doubt that I will be back, and next time I'm bringing melatonin supplements (for the jet lag).

Paris: a New Visitor Arrives!

After our triumphant return from Brugge, I got a good night's sleep and left bright and early to pick up our friend Tanya at the airport. Our ride back into the city was much less crowded than it was on my arrival, which meant having to deal with fewer snarky complaints in French about the size of our luggage. Lucky Tanya.

Tanya did much better than I did on my first day, and after a brief respite at home, we ventured out to see the city. We made our way first to La Bourse, which is like the financial center, and where there is a little street market with lots of produce, dairy, and food stands. We decided to start our day with hot, crispy sandwiches of merguez, a spicy Moroccan lamb sausage, grilled onions, and cheese. They were delicious, but left our mouths and fingers coated in bright red grease that our one napkin couldn't completely manage.



We discovered a beautiful new plant next to the city library, and I had to resist the temptation to nibble on the brightly colored berries.


We stumbled upon a lovely garden at the Palais Royal (I think. Near there at least), where in typical tourist fashion we disturbed the people sitting quietly in the afternoon sun with our oohs and aahs, camera shutters, and maps.


We wandered over to the Louvre and into the Jardin des Tuileries, which is beautiful even in late fall. Only half the trees had started giving up on their leaves so there was still much greenery, and even more people out to enjoy the day. We stopped and sat for awhile at a fountain full of ducks and seagulls, but had to leave when they all started flying around in flocks above our heads, endangering our outfits and hygeine.


We walked the whole length of the park, and then made our way down to the Seine. The water was only slightly murky, despite the recent rains, and it was surprisingly clean! We couldn't have asked for a nicer walk; there was no wind, and even though the sky was filled with dramatic clouds, the sun seemed to be out the whole time and we never felt any rain.


We found some hooks to play on. Any thoughts as to what these are? Places to tie boats when the river has risen? Old horse/carriage lockups? Whatever they were, we wanted pictures. Tanya posed very gracefully:


I, just slightly less so:


And then OH MY GOD I ALMOST FELL INTO THE SEINE!!


Just kidding. There were some big steps leading down to the water. The policemen on the boat in the background were completely unconcerned, but a passerby stopped and said, "Nice shot."