Imagine a guy, the most hipster-ish guy you know. Skinny grey jeans, black graphic tee, tall lanky frame.
There's two of them walking down the street. Both of them are carrying those metal keg backpacks you see at stadiums and events to dispense beer from. A car drives by, stops, and the window rolls down. "¿Café chicos? ¡Dos por favor!"
The two hipsters turn around, and instead of beer the metal drums read "Columbian Café." Eyeing up the driver through their red Wayfarers, they decide to walk over. They take their time, lighting up their rolled cigarettes at the crossing. Then, while taking a big drag from his cig, one fills up a styrofoam cup of coffee while the other guy tops it up with sugar. They lean on the side of the car, nonchalantly smoking and chatting while waiting for their change. The driver gives them 4 pesos and they're off, strolling down the road to look for more customers.
Who knew street food could look so wicked? Who knew that in this city, it would be considered cool to walk the streets as roaming baristas. I'll bet they do something similar for wine... Imagine a massive DJ night out, and instead of beer or coffee, hipsters in fluorescent clothes and cool trainers sell wine by the cup. Ha. Only in Buenos Aires...
Sunday, 25 September 2011
Friday, 23 September 2011
Tomorrow's my last day in Mendoza. I feel strangely... eh. I'm not sad to go, but neither am I happy. I didn't go out once for drinks, or to a club. I'm almost ashamed to count how many hours I dedicated to the siesta. I never climbed the hill in the park for the "fantastic view," nor did I go skiing/paragliding/rafting, nor did I ever venture into the mountains save for the time I got trapped at the Andean border.
But that's not to say I don't love it here. It's just that the only way I can describe it is "tranquilo." Chill. After those four hectic and draining weeks in the Amazon, Mendoza was exactly what I needed, the perfect remedy for the eternally knackered medical student. I caught up on sleep, read all the (English) books in the house, and spent hours doing nothing but listening to Radiohead.
Not to fear parents, I wasn´t a complete waste of your hard-earned money! Mira. Look: I cooked empanadas, baked alfajores, danced tango in a milonga, tried mate (tea-loved it), tried frenet (liquor-hated it), tucked into appetizers at 10pm, devoured massive chunks of steak from an asado, developed an appreciation for red wines... And I've been immersed in so much Spanish that certain words no longer come out in English! A typical sentence now sounds like "Pero no, no es her falta porque ella tried her best.
Here's my daily schedule: hospital in the morning, tanning on the rooftop terrace, seista for a couple hours in the afternoon, visit to the gym, and a tango lesson at night. One weekend I just watched films and saw a rather mediocre dance perforamance. The next I went to a tango show. Last week my dad was here, so went to bodegas, drank a scandalous amount of red wine, and ate ourselves sick with truly fantastic food (no joke, the next 2 days I could hardly stomach a slice of bread :O ). This weekend I'll go for a horseback ride and have an asado in the countryside. And that'll be the end of my elective in Mendoza.
Doesn't sound particularly exciting, no? No crazy stories of being harassed by lusty Argentinean men, no dancing until sunrise, not even a single episode of eruptive vomitus! But this absence of drunken nights-out isn't why I'm not reluctant to leave. Rather, I'm not sad because I know I won't be saying adios to Mendoza for good. Because the city, encased by mountains and nestled amongst countless vineyards, is too beautiful to never see again. And the people, with their easy conversation, teasing humour, open hearts and buckets-full of buena onda, I simply can't make out those words of permanent and definitive goodbye.
No, when I leave, it will be with a "chau, hasta luego Mendoza"!
But that's not to say I don't love it here. It's just that the only way I can describe it is "tranquilo." Chill. After those four hectic and draining weeks in the Amazon, Mendoza was exactly what I needed, the perfect remedy for the eternally knackered medical student. I caught up on sleep, read all the (English) books in the house, and spent hours doing nothing but listening to Radiohead.
Not to fear parents, I wasn´t a complete waste of your hard-earned money! Mira. Look: I cooked empanadas, baked alfajores, danced tango in a milonga, tried mate (tea-loved it), tried frenet (liquor-hated it), tucked into appetizers at 10pm, devoured massive chunks of steak from an asado, developed an appreciation for red wines... And I've been immersed in so much Spanish that certain words no longer come out in English! A typical sentence now sounds like "Pero no, no es her falta porque ella tried her best.
Here's my daily schedule: hospital in the morning, tanning on the rooftop terrace, seista for a couple hours in the afternoon, visit to the gym, and a tango lesson at night. One weekend I just watched films and saw a rather mediocre dance perforamance. The next I went to a tango show. Last week my dad was here, so went to bodegas, drank a scandalous amount of red wine, and ate ourselves sick with truly fantastic food (no joke, the next 2 days I could hardly stomach a slice of bread :O ). This weekend I'll go for a horseback ride and have an asado in the countryside. And that'll be the end of my elective in Mendoza.
Doesn't sound particularly exciting, no? No crazy stories of being harassed by lusty Argentinean men, no dancing until sunrise, not even a single episode of eruptive vomitus! But this absence of drunken nights-out isn't why I'm not reluctant to leave. Rather, I'm not sad because I know I won't be saying adios to Mendoza for good. Because the city, encased by mountains and nestled amongst countless vineyards, is too beautiful to never see again. And the people, with their easy conversation, teasing humour, open hearts and buckets-full of buena onda, I simply can't make out those words of permanent and definitive goodbye.
No, when I leave, it will be with a "chau, hasta luego Mendoza"!
Sunday, 18 September 2011
Phenomnomal
The perks of having your dad visit you while on elective.
UPDATE:
UPDATE:
!!!
(PS: Rachel, while eating this fat piece of steak, we were thinking of you. Love.)
Thursday, 8 September 2011
Highlights of the past few weeks
- Being trapped for 6 hours in the mountain pass between Chile and Argentina.
- Cycling inebriated around the Mendozan countryside, from one vineyard to the next.
- Falling in love with tango.
- Sipping mate in the park under the afternoon sun.
- Tasting dulce de leche for the first time. So delicious it makes your head spin.
- Feeding the resident stray dog in the hospital cafeteria.
- Running around the nearby lake as part of my daily jog.
- Listening to Bajofonda (electronic tango).
- Finding out that 3 hour naps in the middle of the day is not only allowed, but even encouraged.
José and I outside our last bodega, Altavista
Las Mujeres de Argentina
This placement in Mendoza is full of them. The Work the World house consists of 4 women and 1 man. El Hospital Lagomaggiore obstetrics department is made up of 21 women and 1 man. All the nurses on the wards are women. Every single one of my patients is a woman.
And I love it! I get to wear nail polish in hospital, even for Cesarean sections. I know this because all ht eother doctors do it too. Can you imagine choosing a nail polish that matches the colour of your surgical scrubs? And there´s food everywhere - one of the residents loves baking cakes, and at the house there´s always biscuits and chocolate (given I haven´t finished them).
Yes, there are downsides. Yesterday I was kicked out of the doctors room because the residents needed to discuss something. For the next 30 minutes, no one was allowed into the room. When the door finally opened, every single doctora that walked out was red-eyed, blowing their nose, or full on sobbing. My Spanish isn´t good enough to ask what happened, but I did understand the odd word: pelea (fight), extraño (strange), demasiado hormonas (too many hormones), and something to do with being overworked in a public hospital.
Geez, I´m only just wondering if all 21 of them are on the same cycle.
The cabinets in the doctors room are hilarious:
I don´t know if it´s a nation-wide cultural thing, or just this particular social demographic. And I know it´s only been 2 weeks. But these women are spirited, steadfast, understatedly sexy, and excude a warmth and sincerity I have never before experienced so clearly nor so immediately.
¡Que buenas ondas!
And I love it! I get to wear nail polish in hospital, even for Cesarean sections. I know this because all ht eother doctors do it too. Can you imagine choosing a nail polish that matches the colour of your surgical scrubs? And there´s food everywhere - one of the residents loves baking cakes, and at the house there´s always biscuits and chocolate (given I haven´t finished them).
Yes, there are downsides. Yesterday I was kicked out of the doctors room because the residents needed to discuss something. For the next 30 minutes, no one was allowed into the room. When the door finally opened, every single doctora that walked out was red-eyed, blowing their nose, or full on sobbing. My Spanish isn´t good enough to ask what happened, but I did understand the odd word: pelea (fight), extraño (strange), demasiado hormonas (too many hormones), and something to do with being overworked in a public hospital.
Geez, I´m only just wondering if all 21 of them are on the same cycle.
The cabinets in the doctors room are hilarious:
- Obs&Gynae textbooks and research papers
- Biscuits, sugar, coffee
- Contraceptive pills and antifungal vaginal pessaries
I don´t know if it´s a nation-wide cultural thing, or just this particular social demographic. And I know it´s only been 2 weeks. But these women are spirited, steadfast, understatedly sexy, and excude a warmth and sincerity I have never before experienced so clearly nor so immediately.
¡Que buenas ondas!
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