Cabeza del Radio

So i've been in Buenos Aires for quite a while. And not to detract anything from it...I mean it is a wonderful city. But as a budget traveler, life in the metropolis can be taxing. But alas, i must 'suck it up', for good reason too...RADIOHEAD FT. KRAFTWERK. No need to explain, right? for the cost of about 90 dollars, I get to watch two music legends do their thing in the flesh. I won't bore you with the details of their show. Yea, it amazing and hopefully i'll have the footage up, but I wanted to touch upon concert culture in Buenos Aires, or rather the lack of.

Yes, i think i finally found that chink in the Porteno armor. People: in a Rock concert there WILL be sweating, there WILL be pushing, and sadly there WILL be blood. I do not condone this. I aven't been particularly active in a mosh pit since the good old college days. And I truly felt as if those days might be over. Just leave it to a 30,000 person-strong concert with no hope for a VIP/pres pass/Back-stage connection (oh, the WBRS days...) I mean, i could have stood in back and enjoyed the concert like most 'young profesionals' do. But then again, I'm unemployed and living out of my bag. plus i owe you the pics/vids, right?

Kraftwerk, enter generic German joke here...



Leave it to te Israelis to get this show on the road. Honestly, they are like the proverbial cavalry sometimes. In the thick of it all (namely, people) 2 lanky Israeli guys spot my Israeli sandles, call me out and push me in. Mind you, i did not instigate this but then again i wasn't using my all to oppose it either. Witin 5 minutes we cut through about 6871.6 people. Since i am in the position of spear-head, i am getting the brunt of the insults and pushes. It got to the point where at some point later in the show a guy called me out as being responsible for the entire flow of the crowd. I mean, really? is tis every one's first show? Using only the most colorful language gained from meeting assholes from the world, I kindly explained the folly in his accusation, and gave him a nice chap on the back in good-heartedness.
Anyways, still about 40 layers from the stage, and squeezed nearly to pancake form. The next natural step? Arriba! crowd-surfing to Kraftwerk isn't exactly my forte, but you know, with Germans in the house, my Israeli blood gets boiling...kidding, no offense to my North European comrades.

Nihilists...


Here's when it get tricky. I pull myself down before the security gets me, yet one seriously steroided-up guard wants my blood. A scene erupts as he goes lunging for my gringo behind. False flashbacks of my non-existent Rodney King days are evoked, I start a chant of fuck the police and dash stage-right, about 20 rows deep. OK, at this point my mature side takes over and demands i stop with the tom-foolery. My middle-child relents and all is well. I even start huffing and complaining about all those rude pushers and shovers. But then the wave begns anew. No, its not the Marxian masses of the proletariot as much as the adrenaline-peaking young Latin Radiohead fans who dream has come true after years f waiting. After all, this is Radiohead's firs jaunt south of Mexico. Within 5 minutes i am 3 rows fro the stage, with the UC chamio-looking guard splicing my head with his eyes...ALL GOOD.

Got this close



Needless to say, Radiohead comes one, wreck havc with a list covering most of their new album ,as well as some of their classics. 2 hours of paradise resulting in bloody toes (dont wear sandals to concerts!) a partially torn Warriors shirt, a potential place to stay at in Cordoba, which i will visit next week, and some killer pics.


They constantly screened the band-members on large screens beside the stage







Every song a different light

Day of the Disappeared

24/3/09

It seems as though every nation and culture has it's own set of numbers that carry immense symbolic weight. The Jews will always have 6,000,000. The United States now has 3,000. Argentina has 30,000. That is the number of those 'disappeared' in the hands of the Military Junta that ruled Argentina during some of its darkest times. It boggles the mind to hear that only in 1993 did this beautiful Country rise from the ashes of dictatorship. Those disappeared included dissenters of various political inclinations, as well as artists, teachers, and anyone else disliked by the regime. On March 24th of 1975, during the nadir of totalitarianism, a group of brave women who lost their loved ones decided to make a statement. They descended upon Plaza de Mayo, right outside of the presidential palace (the Pink House) with picures of their disappeared spouses, children, and loved ones, and demanded information.

The march yesterday, with the Plaza de Mayo and the Pink House in the background


This grassroot protest would become a popular movement, launching the Abuelas (grandmothers) as an international symbol of the struggle for human rights.
Yesterday was the 33rd anniversary of the first march. The event commenced with a masive march down the central boulevard, attended by ALL the major political parties, both right and left. Never have I ever seen participation in such an event by the entire political spectrum. The march was spearheaded by a dance troup of 50 white-clad ladies in snchronized movements towards the plaza, followed by a massive percusion-battery setting the pace.



Once the reached the plaza, the marcers stopped and the two groups (the dancers in wite and the drummers in red) created a long passage-way trugh the crowd, and greeted the Abuelas as they made their way to the stage.



Chanting was unanimous by the entire crowd of thousands, as people of the diverse interest grups united for this celebration of hope and vigil for the fallen.

The Abuelas on stage


Anarchists were arond, but nothing like the protests in Paris or Genoa. After the march, when the various flags descended upon the plaza, hours were spent singing, dancing, and revelling in this beautiful exhibitio of democracy and popular power. I find it hard to believe that such an event would take place in many other countries. Maybe it is because the memory here of totalitarianism is as still raw as an open wound. After all, the Abuelas are still here among us. Either way, Argentina deserves true applause for such a show, and it heartens me observe first hand how true change can be sparked by a few 'old ladies.'



The legacy of Che lives on in the country of his birth




Different interest groups participating in the march:


The Peronistas, Argentina´s right wing party


Unidentified masked anarchists, who peaceful yet aggressive.


The Socialist party


The group for indigenous rights. The flag is attached to a horn about 10 feet high.


A an association of Artists remembering those fallen



Grassroots protest

Crime and Punishment

So I got some 'fan mail' recently. A certain Florida-based person of questionable character demanded to hear of orgies and arrests. Now seeing as lady-friend just flew back from down here on Saturday, i haven't had the time to facilitate the first request. As for the the latter...well the key is NOT to get arrested. The line between fun and jail is quite fine, and for you my lovely fan, i had it trod quite thoroughly.
Life is full of surprises and uncertainties, yet one constant that remains rock solid is, when heading out with Aussies, you are guaranteed an interesting time.

riding the charlie horse into town...



The first incident of the night occurred around 10:30, a bit after dinner for the local Argentines. All was quiet and serene, with the outside cafe's bustling with clients, that is until 3 Aussies pissed out of their minds on various cheap liqours start yelling in mock-cockney. I couldn't understand to much of what they were saying, but that did not stop me from filming and enjoying the scene, that is until i felt a nudge on my shoulder. It was someone from the hostel staff, who knew just enough english to point down to the cop awaiting our descent down to the street. The Aussies were oblivious, the cop was livid, and I was the sober one...Thank god for the back door!


Incident 2: rule of thumb, while urination in public may be frowned upon by many, it is apparently considered a crime punishable by death in Buenos Aires. So when the squad car pumps the lights, it is probably for you, run... and no, 5-0 is not a universal phrase.

incident 3: sure, punk in Spanish sounds fun, and it is truly an experience to attend a show, especially since Argentina is such a politicized country (more on that later) but try not to stick around for the ensuing noise complaints/arrests.

Even te Hard-cores need teir siesta...



That enough Ziggz?

Buenos Aires, Mi Amore

In the streets of San Telmo

19/3/09

In the Lonely Planet guide to South America, PorteÑos (those from Buenos Aires) are avid fans of 3 activities: walking, shopping, and dancing Tango. That description is enough to chase away any true backpacker, whose budget woes generate tough questions such as: "can you make an all-you-can-it session last for 2 meals?", or "does a night-time flight = no paying for a bed at a hostel?" Needless to say, always heed the following tip: "don't follow the book!" Why? because doing so will land you at tourist traps where the only Spanish you will hear is Graci-as in the traditional dialect known as angloese.

The Said, onto Buenos Aires...though it is nicknamed the Paris of South America, Parisians would be verde with jealousy after spending a day walking the streets of this 12 million people strong center of arts, fashion, sports, food, and all-around good times. This week I stayed in neighborhood of Palermo, which can loosely be compared to the village + SoHo back in New York City. The streets are lined with boutiques (3.5 pesos to the dollar helps!) and and a cafe culture rivaling that of Rome, Tel Aviv and any other Coffee-lovers` havens. Meal times : Breakfast - whenever you wake up. Lunch - 3 pm, Dinner - 10 pm, night starts at a relatively early 2 am. That is standard. Why? no clue. Iu actually asked some locals I spent time with. They had no idea either...ADAPT!

Revolutionary left overs, my favorite!

Every day the various (and there are many) plazas are filled with artisanal fairs, the highlight of which can be found in San Telmo, BA`s Williamsburg (bear with me). The city's oldest neighberhood is now home to the art-world`s avant garde. The bars are full, though it seems as though there are as many people gathered at street corners with bottles of wine and guitar.

Culture: currently over 150 works being put on Corrientes (BA`s Broadway), Off-Corrientes, and off-off Corrientes. As I write this, my pocket is burning from the golden ticket, AKA, my ticket for Radiohead and Kraftwerk. Argentina´s Electro/hip hop/native Indian music crew ZZK is set to conquer North America starting with Coachella. Oh yea, there´s Tango too. The graff is, as covered earlier is, well amazing. I could keep typing for hours, but i´m sure your attention span is not much longer than mine.

In conclusion: Buenos Aires is still under theradar, for some incomprehendable reason. Go there, dig it, and revel in the fact that you got here before it commercialized...Yes, you too can be a trend-setter!

Germans in the house! (lager + minimalist house music = anchluss!)

He is used to cool windz of ze autobahn!

Patagonia pt.5 - Punta Natales & Torres Del Paines AKA Yo, Robot

3/12 9:30 am

Tired...Spent half the night going head to head with old school hip hop videos on Youtubewith this Chilean dude who looks like a member of Boo-Ya T.R.I.B.E. Apparently, Gangsta rap is still alive and well in South America, where you are as likely to hear a West-side Connection track busting out of a car as any of the new material that came out this year. It culminated with a short lecture on the magnificience of The Warriors and its influence on, well, everything post-1979. correct?

NOTHING BEATS LOSS IN TRANSLATION. try not peeing your pants at the following:

Didn´t have enough time to go into the park and do the customary 4 day trek, so here are some photos of the day trek i did yesterday. Soundtrack going up: Lupe Fiasco´s second album (where he shouts out his blogspot blog as well, we like brothers!) and Muse. cheers!

Patagonia pt. 4 - El Chalten

3/10, 5:36 AM!

Just woke up. My alarm didn´t do its job, but no worries, the Germans near me did. Efficient, like clock-work...I´m up and gone in 7 minutes, thank you army service, on my way to a 1 hour pre-dawn scramble up to Fitz Roy, this enormous Granite peak jutting up in the center of Clacier National park. Unfortunately the weather prevents the rising sun from splashing the peak with its orange-red colors, but the sight is still quite majestic...tangent time:

(skip the following if you´re tired of the bullshit expounded in the last entry)

What is it about solitude that generates such bursts of creative energy, leading to works such as Threau´s Walden and Kafka´s The Castle? I chose these examples as they represent distinct forms of solitude. Thoreu literally removed himself from society. Kafka was surrounded by others while living in Prague, yet felt as an outcast. During the pst few days, I´ve had a taste of both strands, which can be referred to as Isolation and Loneliness. The first needs no explanation. The latter may be somewhat misleading. I am currently at a camping ground amongst 20-25 others, all very nice and polite. Yet i feel alone. Not necessarily saddened by it, at least not now.

Break en route to Fitz Roy

The line between enjoying solitude, and suffering from it is quite thin. Naturally, we are socially complex animals, yet every great figure in the Western Canon must have his or her famed moment of contemplation, followed by a grand epiphany whose requirement is solitude. I rarely write, and when i do it usually takes place during travrl. Writing is a purely contemplative excercise, the product of a thought process. This is not to say that one must swear off companionship in order to mentally progress. Perhaps the writing which constitutes a culmination of one´s thought process is so often done in solitude because then the actor has no audience. With no one to hear the shouts of Eureka, our hero must write it down, with several exclamation marks for stress, in the hopes that some day a future generation will pick up his record, revel in its content, and worship, or at least remember the author´s name. No worries here though, my handwriting is illegible. (fi rant)

So yea, the hike was a bit intense, and the clouds blocked off much of the ¨dazzling¨dawn effects, but no worries. Fitz Roy apologized with a rainbow as i trekked back. Soundtrack up: Kanye West´s 808´s and Heartbreaks, Kaiser Chiefs and Arctic Monkeys. Soundtrack down: A bit of Metallica, the entire The Wall and some of Wish You Were Here.

One last thing. FORGET CRACK, in Argentina the epidemic is Mate. Its this loose leaf tea that peoplke drink gallons of. No matter where and when, even in the midst of a party during Carnaval, you´ll see some chapped lipped, nappy haired Argentinean sucking on his silver spoon, for that bitter herb. They walk around with thermoses in their hands all day. The following is a pic of a Mate vnding machine. It freely dispenses hot water for the Mate-heads. Confessions: I´ve tried it, liked it, but i´m not addicted! i swears it!

Worse than Freeway Rick Ross and Tony MontaÑa..,

n

Patagonia pt. 3 - El Calafate/ Perito Moreno Glacier

I am sitting infront of Glacier Perito Moreno It is essentially a mass of ice over 5 km long, and contiually expanding in an advance towards the mainland. All is quiet, apart for the occasional crash of ice into the surrounding waters. This is a different sense of the Sublime. As oppposed to the ethereal desolution of Tierra del Fuego, here one is subject to the overwhelming dominance of Nature. From the acute sense of isolation and loss, to a calm awe in the face of sheer force. It´s fascinating how total helplessness, as in when swept by a monstrous wave, can produce a state of tranquility... a two-bit version of Zen.

Calmer than you are...


Its nice to see such a manifestation up close, sort of proves that man has not won it all in his rebellion against Nature. Yes, Science has been busily deshrouding many of those mysteries that one caused whole nations to bow in worship. Yet not even the world´s permier myth-buster will sarcastically turn his back to such a sight. Even he will stare at the glacier with that familiar 1st grader´s grin, and take part in the communal amazed gasp which we all seem to share.


Ironically enough, the unique shape of this ice-fortress reminds me of a military formation, as though the jagged edges are lined up for inspection. Or rather, blank-faced day-rats lined up for the subway doors. Yet upon closer look, one is reassured. Just as no two snowflakes are alike, nor are any of the jagged ice sculptures jutting up from the water. Then again, every person gets to choose his own shade of Brooks Brothers shirt suit and tie from that Western Man´s Today catalogue sent directly to a brain near you! through the various mediums. Man, has technology shortened the path to democratic hegemony, or what?!
Wait, you don´t want in? No problem chief...see those icy waters just waiting to swallow up those who refuse to get with the program, to/the advance? That is no gunshot you are hearing, just another jagged piece of glacier refusing to conform. Do glaciers know how to swim?

Patagonia pt. 2 - desolation

I´m sitting on a ferry, about to leave the Chilean Tierra del Fuego en Route to Argentinian Patagonia. Just finished my breakfast/lunch hotdog meal. I am surrounded by miles of utter desolation. Since Darwin´s journey through Ushuaia in the 19th century, the region has been traversed by thousands. And yet the hospitable nature of this land maintains that feeling of complete solitude. The sublimity your surroundings tune out any other thoughts in your head, as one is left with that dumbstruck stare in his eyes.

Patagonia part 1 - Ushuaia, the end of the world

Ushuaia, capital of Tierra del Fuego (Land of fire) holds the title of Southermost city in the world. You would expect a desolate little town, cosidering its history as a Hispanic version of a gulag. Yet what awaited this poor Muchillero was a photocopy of your standard Swiss ski-town, full of overpriced stores and plump Europeans in day-glo colored jackets. Fear not, I will find a way to create an authentic shoe-string experience. Enter Jeff, a 31 year-old Canadian who has just ended his 22 month-long journey motorcycle journey from Edmonton, Canada. For a last hurrah, he decided to borrow a sleeping bag and head over to the best (and free!) trek in town, a two day adventure called el caminante. The Israeli dynamic duo of Shanny and Shiri came along in the last minute. They may have not realized this, but they would provide me (and you) with a valuable lesson on what NOT to do when trekking.

One of several glaciers surrounding Ushuaia:

So we are off at 11 am, beginning our 13 km trek. Over all, the trip is supposed to be relatively mild, with a few leaps in elevation here and there. In reality, the supposed experts under-estimated the difficulty and neglected to mention that the signs were sometimes nonexistent. Shanny and Shiri, who definately proved their toughness, were unfortunate as to come along with their muchillas (spanish for rucksacks), theirs being hybrid packs which had both shoulder straps and a wheels. The wheels are cumbersome and the shoulder straps unsatisfactory, causing the weight to be shifted to the upperbody, and away form the body, fostering a constant tilt back. Add to that a horrible sleeping bag (they didnt even take the other bag, which was somehow worse) And a tent they could not fit in their packs (though it fit in mine perfectly). Yea, much suffering to come...

in happier times (Jeff, Shiri, Shani):

The first day was not to bad. We kept a strong constant pace, suprising the band of10 israeli trekkers who lost their way and decided to return (ominous sign?). We were all in good spirits, and decided to camp around 6 pm. Accompanied by a French-Canadian and an Italian, we lit a camp fire and went to sleep around 10. I woke at 8, to the sight of Shanny shivering. Neither of the girls slept at all, due to the undue cold (result of insufficient fleece blankets and only one sleeping bag). Meanwhile, Jeff left our food outside, which the rodents (or the French Canadian guy, as the girls contend. He only had dulce de leche and crackers to his name) got to. So, we are left with 2 granola bars per person, and lingering doubt regarding the rest of the trip. I added their sleeping bag to my pack and we moved on. We reached the peak of our trip within an hour or so, and planned for 2 more hours down-hill until we reach our ultimate destination. The midway point was at a high elevation (above timber-line, next to a glacier) and it began raining/snowing. But so what, we made it! right?

If you see the following stone sculpture (made by yours´truly) know that you have gone to far to go back...


Here is when it gets bad, or adventurous. The rest of the trek was through a valley, yet we quickly lose track of the trail, so...we move on. Knowing we are at the right valley and direction, we head out. Cutting right to it, a 2 hour trek became a 5 hour ordeal, blazing a path through thick brush, crossing rivers...Survivor is a cakewalk compared to our trek. Needless to say we got a bit wet, and Shiri started getting tired...real tired, and panicky...and apparently she may have blacked out, yet mighty Jeff was there for the rescue. Shani was holding her own, and I was ahead, scouting. Long story short, we made it out around 7 pm, with some bruises and cuts, but a hell of a story...right? Mom, Dad, no worries. we reported our departure and honestly it wasnt that bad. Even another night there would would have been more than fine, except for an awkward body-heat sharing session...
To conclude, Ushuaia is good for: 1) a stop on the way to Antarctica ($3500-5000), 2) just to say you were in the Southermost city in the world (a few hunder pesos for transportation, food, hostel) 3) roughing it out for a few days and moving it on. In other words, save up before or suffer!
My advice: a bit unrelated to the above - you know it is time to leave your hostel/town when 2 Russian/Israeli guys who just got out of the army (Golani) check in. No, they DO NOT represent the Israeli Poeple! Do not think that i am fostering some self-hating imagery. It is just that one does not travel thousands of miles South in order to end up in Tel Aviv. Traveling with ´your own´can be comforting at times...but for me, there better be some looong spaces of time in between.

If you see the two in the picture below, hide your food!

DO NOT listen to your Hostel & La Corazon de Boca

Sunday for many in this world is a day of prayer and family gatherings. It is the same here in Buenos Aires, only the prayer is done in mass chanting during a Football match and accompanied by your colors0kin, aka fellow fans. Oh yea, Diego Maradona is godhead...DO NOT TAKE HIS NAME IN VAIN!

Last sunday I decided to check out La Bonboniera, Boca Jr.'s stadium, storiesch do not exactly match its chocolatey nickname. As per usual, I spoke with the hostel staff in order to gain some friendly advice on purchasing tickets and getting there. Seeing as they offer 'packages' for the matches, I should have figured that they would try and deter me from pursuing my goals on my own. "No, there are no tickets available, and if there are they are all fake, and if you get them the fans will crucify your gringo ass." To paraphrase the great Ari Gold, 'its the Israeli blood in me, we just don't take shit.' Essentially I nodded them off, and headed down for the 20 minutes walk to the stadium. Their package, at a 'measly' 160 pesos, provided standing-room tickets plus transportation to and from. If you step up your girngo game, you get yourself a meal as well for a miniscule 80 peso increase. Perfect for innocent European tourists, not so much for an Israeli Muchillero.

60,000 fans, no big deal...about the same as a Brandeis Basketball game...

So...I walked the 20 minutes to Barrio de Boca, the 'other side of the tracks' according to the Hostel. Actually, its just a blue collar neighborhood, not too different from most towns in Pennsylvania or New Jersey...only with better music blasting from cars. Needless to say, on my quest for tix i ran into more Israelis. By 1 I was at the Stadium, by 2 I purchased my genuine 30 peso standing room ticket from the box office...no line either. By 3 my new friends and I dined on steak, chorizos and beer...30 pesos each. By 5 we had another round of quilmes (local beer) from the tap (rare in South America), while watching tango dancing and Japanese tourists using 3 different lenses for the same shot of Maradona's statue...10 pesos. By 8, Game on. By the way, the match was amazing, with Boca going 3 to 1 against Huaracan. Only tough spot is some liquid spilling on the people next to me...It was the rain, we hope. Return fare by bus...i gotta treat myself some time...1.80 peso. total- 71.80 pesos. Needless to say, upon return to the hostel i called them out. Not for making a bundle off innocent tourists, after all its a sucker's fault for being one. But for lying about availability of tickets. That is just bad Business. So...Do not believe the hype, or you will be stuck being a Euro, and we do not want that, right? (hear that? that's the national anthem in your ears, yea and thats a tear in your eye...)

Can you guess who the chubby man pointing at the bottom of the photo is?

Yea, its this guy...

M A R A D O N A ! ! !

The hooligans of the future, they start out so cute...