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Our first party this last Friday was the multi-cultural wedding reception for our friends Leah and Pablo!

Pablo’s family was in attendance from Chile, some of whom we sat by during lunch. It was fun talking to his cousin, who was a young woman who studied civil engineering…you know we had to have the female, engineering, girl power moment. His uncle, Ricardo, was very patient sitting across from the two blond Zs, believing they were cute even though Zoe managed to look like a lynx tearing out the throat of a fox while she ate her carne empanadas! (We’ve really got to work on table manners. *sigh*)

Leah’s mother and one brother made it from the States. Her mother is a fabulous woman who worked her fingers to the bone to elect Obama (in North Carolina, no less) and is now concerned about health care and finance reform getting passed. We bored all of the locals in attendance with our spirited political discussion.

The restaurant where the reception was held was called Almacén Secreto, and they weren’t kidding about the secreto part. When the cab pulled up to the sparsely populated, dead-end street in the Villa Crespo neighborhood, the driver looked at his American charges with an expression that said: “Really…?”

We left the cab and nervously shuttled across the street to ring the bell that corresponded to the address (there is no sign indicating that you are in the right place). We were let in and found ourselves entering a magical environment that two artists converted from a home into a restaurant. Needless to say, it has the coolest atmosphere.

Oh yah, and Leah says dinner on TH includes free wine, so check it out! Pictured here is some of the art housed within and without the space.

There are times when you are living in Buenos Aires that you are reminded of the fact that labor is cheap…well, at least compared to the US. We experienced one such happening today at the tennis club where the girls take lessons.

It seems that they are refurbishing the surface of the courts, one by one, and in order to do it, they have to break up the clay, which they accomplish by hand with the work of 2 or 3 men pounding away with the tools pictured above.

There is a strange sort of beauty to the pattern that emerges in the clay; the newer wounds bleed a darker red. (Click on the photo to really see the richness.)

This process takes several days, and since I’m not the one out in the baking sun beating on the ground, I find the pace appealing in a contemplative sort of way. I know in the States there is probably a machine that can accomplish this task in a mere whisper of time, but not so handsomely, and not so I appreciate the labors of those doing it.

Yesterday, we spent a beautiful day at the ecological reserve located between Puerto Madero and the Río de la Plata, smack dab in the middle of Buenos Aires.

When you hear the words “ecological” and “reserve” you picture a pristine wilderness preserved for its unique ecostystem. This one has a bit more of a checkered past than its name would imply as it is essentially landfill from the castoffs on a road construction project that built up over time and became a haven for wild guinea pigs and a wide variety of birds along the brown shores of the River Plate. Born from heavy construction trash…

The reserve is apparently being threatened by people who feel it is very valuable for real estate development and believe it to be a waste to leave it as it is, which leads me to my mixed feelings about Puerto Madero, as a whole. In my opinion, the redeveloped port is a well-conceived and executed port reclamation project in terms of design. However, whenever I go there, it feels like a playground built by the oligarchy, for the oligarchy. One of the only redeeming characteristics of the area for me is the reserve, which allows ordinary Porteño citizens to interact with and enjoy their river front, instead of securing it for the exclusive enjoyment of the rich and the powerful.

It was very crowded yesterday because it was a beautiful spring day, but I hear it is nearly empty during the week. People from all walks of life and all ages were enjoying the many km of paths. A note, if you are going to rent a bike, they don’t have any attachments/trailers for kids who don’t ride.

Photo by jmpznz’s photostream, under this creative commons license

Let’s see, I broke my vertebrae nearly three months ago on June 16th…you guessed it, that means it’s time for another update.

I am fully healed in the sense that I can bend over and pick up stuff off the floor and/or flip around in bed without the pain waking me up. (I still have twinges when I sneeze, or twist funny, but it’s all manageable.)

The big issue at present is rehab, rehab, rehab. Not being able to activate most of the muscles in my torso without pain for the first few months after I cracked the spine resulted in terrible atrophy that I’m having to try and reverse now. Yes, that means I am ridiculously sore at the moment. After doing a solid couple of weeks of light CrossFit and some casual hitting of tennis balls with the hubby, my upper body is wracked with lactic acid. I had to have Tom take off my sweatshirt today because I couldn’t lift my arms over my head!

My back injury also set my knee recuperation back a bit as well, so my legs are crazy painful too.

Essentially, I waddle around the house waving my useless flipper arms asking everyone to help me. Recovering has made me almost as useless as when the injury first occurred!

Spinal Fracture Recovery Posts: Day 1 | Day 5 | Day 14 | Month 3 |

One would think that if you buy a reasonably high quality tea or honey, they’re all pretty much the same — tomato, tomahto. Well, I’m here to tell you that you are wrong!

During the good times, even though we felt a little silly, one of our personal extravagances was airlifting our honey from Georgia — we just couldn’t help ourselves!

Yes, that’s right, I would battle to the death over a graceful, long-necked bottle of Savannah Bee Company artisanal honey. We first received it as a gift and thought, really, how different could it be? Oh, I still remember the first time I tried the delicate orange blossom variety, which smelled and tasted of, you guessed it, orange blossoms.

This honey caused me to resurrect an old Joy of Cooking biscuit recipe so that we could conduct honey taste tests! (All of which scientifically confirmed that each flavor was unique and delicious.)

As reviewed in the nibble:

“The third [type of honey] is a rare, varietal honey, carefully tended by artisan beekeepers and delivered to you as raw honey—not heated or treated but with multiple layers of flavor. Call it “gourmet honey,” just call it over and spoon some out of the jar. As soon as you taste it, you know how different it is. Just as not all cabernet sauvignon rootstock is created equal, the nectar from some orange blossoms produces far superior orange blossom honey; and beekeepers, like winemakers, have different levels of skill in handling the bees and extracting the honey.

When Savannah Bee Company’s Ted Dennard decided to become a full-time beekeeper, the world became a sweeter place. His rare varietal (or monofloral) honeys are sought by aficionados the world over. Once you taste the distinct flavors of his black sage, tupelo, orange blossom, sourwood and raspberry honeys, you will never buzz around lesser honey again.”

When we returned from the US last month, I brought some of my favorite tea with me (which I am drinking as I write this, by the way).

The brand is Tea Forté. Funnily enough, we first stumbled upon this tea when staying at the Wynn Resort in Las Vegas right after it opened. This merchant features an amazing array of choices, so I really recommend the purchase of a sampler so that you may imbibe and appreciate the breadth of their offerings. I guarantee that you’ll discover new unexpected favorites!

Aside from their delicious black teas, I adore their herbal teas (which I normally dislike), their White Ambrosia is swoon-worthy, and their green tea blends are intriguing as well. If you are looking for something different, we just tried their dessert tea blends, most of which are rich and smoothly satisfying (we drink them when we have a sugar craving).

Pictured above is one of their pyramid-shaped silk infusers with a little leaf on top about which they write:

“Our unique Silken-Tea-Infusers are individually hand crafted, and provide the world’s finest method to brew a cup of tea. The open weave of the fabric allows the water to flow freely around the teas, allowing the tea leaves to unfurl and the flavors to mingle in the large open form of the infuser.”

In our neighborhood, we sometimes see an old, open-air truck filled to the top with meat parts driving by the local butcher shops. (The transport in question is very similar to the truck pictured here, but without the canvas top.)

Generally, there are two guys standing in the back of the truck amongst the pile of meat, hacking away with cleavers, even while the vehicle is moving. As Tom likes to say, driving at 30 or 40 miles per hour over bumpy roads shouldn’t stop you from working with a sharp, heavy knife!

We’re hoping this truck is for scraps, and not deliveries.

As my dearest husband commented today…”there goes a truck full of chorizo ingredients.” Not a pretty picture he cemented in my head. Thank you so much dear.

UPDATE: Futbol has challenged me to get an actual shot of the Meat Lorry — I have picked up the gauntlet, and come hell or high water, will get a damn photo!

Immediately after we returned to Buenos Aires in August, there was a track and field competition at Zoe’s school amongst 4th and 5th graders to qualify for a country-wide International School athletic competition in Mar del Plata.

Zoe was among the top performers, so off she went to the popular coastal resort this last Thursday and Friday. She wanted to go on her own, in other words, sin familia, because it was a big-girl, overnight trip. So, although we were willing to attend and be her track and field groupies, Zoe was not having any of that. *sigh* Such independence!

She returned late last night with puffy eyes, a serious case of exhaustion (late to bed, early to rise), a slight sunburn on her face, and a gold medal for the throwing competition! She was the only kid from our school, boy or girl, to bring back a medal.

When Zoe disembarked from the bus after midnight outside the school, a cheer went up for her amongst the parents. Zoe was surprised and shyly ducked her head while mumbling a few “thank you”s — that girl does love the limelight. *smile*

We’re glad she’s home. Well, Tom and I are…I believe Zelda may really have enjoyed being an only child!

Zelda’s birthday is coming up, which leads to a serious social obligation here in Argentina! In grade school, you pretty much are required to invite all of your classmates to an elaborate party with hired entertainment…something we had hoped to avoid. (Birthdays are big business here.)

Luckily, with the help of Florencia, we are going to be able to cheat! Zoe’s classmate, Sofia, has a birthday on the same day as Zelda, so we are going to throw a co-birthday party, which saves me from having to figure out all of the ins and outs of these complicated celebrations on my own.

We met with Flor yesterday, filled out invitations, and split up all remaining work. (Since she already has completed nearly everything, we are getting off light). Thus, we have been put in charge of herding together a second gift bag (separated for boys and girls) and picking up the food for adults.

I think we can handle that.

Anyhow, as were were sitting around her kitchen working on our plans during merienda (tea time), we got on the subject of children’s bedtimes. We told her that in the US, the Zs used to have to be in their room by 7:30 pm, perhaps 8:00 pm at the latest, on weeknights. Upon reflection, we added that their bedtime was really almost more for us than for them, since we can’t comprehend how Argentinian parents manage to maintain a relationship without some time alone!

She said she feels as if she is always swimming upstream because Sofia comes home and complains that all of her friends go to bed at 10:00 or 10:30 pm (this is second grade, mind you).

In order to have alone-time in this country, parents have to stay up quite late, leading me to believe that Argentina is really a giant study in sleep deprivation — and it starts from a very young age. It will be interesting to see if there are long-term detriments to maintaining late night hours while eliminating the 3 hour siesta in the middle of the day that makes it all possible!

Tom and I have this horrible habit of mirroring the speech of whatever characters are featured in our current book and/or iTunes TV obsession.

When we were reading the series of maritime novels by Patrick O’Brian that take place during the Napoleanic Wars, we ran around the house speaking a wretched approximation of the Queen’s English, utilizing more formal than necessary sentence structures.

During our watching of The Wire, we would attempt to work the theme of an episode into our everyday lives, such as “You come at the king, you best not miss.” (By the way, can you believe that this amazing show never won an Emmy or Golden Globe? My personal opinion: best TV series, ever.)

We have Deadwood to thank for introducing the word “cocksucker” into our everyday lexicon, which, as foulmouthed as I can be, had never been a word I used, either as a noun or an adjective. A few episodes in, and alas, I could no longer make that claim. Sadly, it was in heavy rotation for both of us for a few weeks (only with the older set, of course).

Our vulgar period has passed now that we’ve moved on to our current TV addiction — Mad Men, the series about 1960s Madison Avenue. One of our favorite characters is Roger Sterling, a partner in the advertising firm featured in the series. He has some gems, such as:

“You don’t know how to drink. Your whole generation…you drink for the wrong reasons. My generation, we drink because it’s good, because it feels better than unbuttoning your collar, because we deserve it. We drink because it’s what men do.”

“You know what my father used to say? Being with a client is like being in a marriage. Sometimes you get into it for the wrong reasons, and eventually, they hit you in the face.”

“I bet there were people walking around in the Bible complaining about kids today.”

Unfortunately, Tom and I have nothing to say that would be as cool as the writing on Mad Men, so Tom has suggested that we start drinking and smoking in the same copious amounts as the characters, really taking our emulation to a whole new level! (He’s willing to go the extra mile, my husband…)

I’ve been meaning to post about this for ages!

While we are snug in our beds at night, we are supposed to rest easy knowing that the locks protecting our doors are the type pictured here that open with an old fashioned skeleton key (representing the latest in security technology)!

This gem of a lock features a keyhole though which you can see. If you are lucky, you have a little flap that can be moved to cover the hole, as we have in this apartment, shown above. Our last house, with a front door that opened directly onto the street, had no cover for the keyhole — you could bend down while on the sidewalk and peer into our kitchen and entry way without visual obstruction.

Lovely.

One last thought on locks. Everything in Buenos Aires is keyed from within and from without, which means you are locked into your apartment, and your building, unless you have a key to depart. (And if one spouse leaves the home with another spouse’s keys, then the keyless spouse will be unable to leave said home…)

We are presently utilizing the coping mechanism of denial to deal with our fear of being trapped in a BA building during a fire!