Los Anos Locos y Uruguay

The night before we adventured across the Rio de la Plata to Colonia, Uruguay, we had a fantastic dinner at Los Anos Locos, courtesy of the generosity of the one, the only, Bromeo. The place was a delicious Parrilla not too far from the domestic airport in BA. We each had a different cut of meat, and were all extremely satisfied. The wine was delicious. We got fried mozzarella as an appetizer in honor of Goat. Stuffed, we headed back to the dungeon to rest before our 9am Buque Bus to Uruguay the next morning.

We arrived at the Buque Bus (what they call the ferry that crosses the Rio de la Plata) station about 45 mins before our trip, went through both Argentine and Uruguayan customs, and then got on the boat. We had a 3 hour ride that was both uneventful and lacking in any scenery (possibly because I slept for 90% of it). After de-ferrying, we landed walked up the cobblestoned streets of Colonia to our hostel a few blocks away. One of the three UNESCO heritage sights we would ultimately see during our month here, Colonia can best be described as a old, sleepy tourist town. It looks like the figment of some impressionist painter’s imagination with its old, colorful one-story bodegas, wild dogs of all varieties roaming the streets, and a number of lighthouses and windmills gracing its coastline.

Our hostel was smaller than the one in Iguazu, and the staff were not quite as outgoing and friendly, but it was all we needed. After checking in, we wandered the streets to see the different buildings and views of the town. We climbed to the top of a lighthouse, from which one can supposedly see Buenos Aires on a clear day. Nothing else spectacular happened the rest of the day, until we ate lunch, and 11 little men in red jerseys from a little country called the People’s Republic of Korea took on Brazil in the world cup.

No no, the North Koreans did not actually pull off the upset of Brazil (as Kim Jong Il supposedly had the game film edited to show). But, knowing Quentin’s proclivity to take bad bets following the Diet Coke debacle, I offered him a little wager on the game. I took 5 pesos on North Korea with 20:1 odds and a one goal spread. Therefore, if North Korea won, drew, or lost by 1 goal, I would win $100 pesos (US $25.00). If North Korea lost by 2 or more, then I owed $5 pesos (around US $1.25) to Quentin. I was on the verge of losing, as Brazil were up 2-0 late in the second half. With only ten or so minutes left in the match, the fear of great wrath from their supreme leader kicked in, and the little Koreans knocked in a garbage time goal to earn me my $100 pesos.

That night we ate dinner at a local Parrilla, and called it a night after the Lakers won game 6 in blowout fashion.

The next morning, we rented the little golf cart that could and took a tour up the shore of Colonia to visit the horsetrack, bullfighting ring, and jai alai courts, all of which are now defunct yet oddly still advertised quite prominently by the town visitors center. Quentin managed to get us lost from the get-go, but we quickly righted our course. Our main destination for the excursion was the Museo de Naufragos y Tesoros (Musuem of Shipwrecks and Treasures). Though it lacked the depth of history of the Smithsonian and the classical ambiance afforded by the Louvre, it nonetheless gave a visitor a good sense of what being a treasure hunter around Uruguay in the last century or so has entailed. Our little golf cart adventure almost took a turn for the worst, as we nearly stalled on the way back up the hill to the town center, but luckily the little guy pulled through. We finished the day by watching Uruguay win their first World Cup game in 20 years and seeing the town go wild. All in all, Uruguay is for sure one of the guayest places I’ve ever been.

The Herms Win the World Cup

Every four years, thirty-two of the world’s nations drop their weapons, paint their faces, and come together despite their differences to kick a round, spotted ball back and forth for 90 minutes. Until recently, most Americans gave hardly a thought to such international tomfoolery, writing it off as—to quote the great Robin Williams—a sport for damaged people (with French accent). Thankfully, over time, the American people have come more and more to begrudgingly support soccer, despite its many flaws: dirty headbutting Albanians from France, Itals that take dives more often than Greg Louganis, 0-0 ties, and, worst of all, the stupid crybaby grimaces that each and every player gets on their face anytime they are even close to being touched by another player.

Anyhow, being that we Herms are, indeed, Herms, and therefore huge bros, it logically follows that we truly love sportsball in all its various forms. Despite its flaws, soccer is one of the earliest and most popular forms of sportsball ever played. Thus, the 2010 World Cup was one of the major reasons we planned this little shindig down in South America.

La Copa began June 11^th. Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, the first day of matches resulted in a 1-1 tie between South Africa and Mexico and a real barnburner that saw Uruguay and France both kiss their sisters: 0-0. But the real action didn’t start ‘til Day 2, when both Argentina and the USA were in action.

We woke up around 9:30am, popped open a few Quilmes, and donned our Argentina gear with a layer of USA gear underneath in preparation. We weren’t sure exactly what to expect, as many locals had been pretty consistent in their prediction that the entire city more or less shuts down during Argentina’s games. Initial evidence would suggest this, as we found it impossible to catch a cab and then found the subway totally empty en route to Plaza San Martin, where they show all the games live on a massive big screen. However, the crowd there was not quite as impressive as we had imagined, given the steady rain and the sheer terror that any and all Argentines emote when the weather is anything but perfect. That being said, the rain did well to root out all the fair-weather fans (pun intended) and allow us to party with only the true diehard hooliganistas of BsAs (as well as a hoard of other gringos from Boston College).

The match turned out to be much more lopsided than the score would indicate, as the trio of Gonzalo Higuain, Carlos Tevez, and Lionel Messi (pictured below) managed to control possession and deliver a 1-0 blow to the heart of the Nigerian squad. We picked up a quick snack of Lays Stax potato chips, some bologna, and more Quilmes before heading to a bar to watch the main event of the day as TEAM USA took on those limey bastards from across the pond. Luckily enough for us, we walked into a bar with a contingent of Brits posted up in the middle of the room, ripe to be slayed by our undying patriotism and love of freedom.

Things didn’t start out too well for AMERICA, as Steven Garard put in a goal for the redcoats no more than 10 minutes into the game. With halftime approaching and the group of Brits becoming more and more confident, we fretted that we might have to resort to reminding them of our sheer dominance in clashes that actually have mattered throughout history—American Revolution, War of 1812, WWI, WWII just off the top of my head. Fortunately, the intercontinental hate would remain relevant to this game, as midfielder extraordinaire, Clint Dempsey, managed to squeak a shot by for a goal shortly into the second half. Some say it was lucky, as English goalkeep Robert Green seemed to let go a shot that most seventh graders could stop. I say Manifest Destiny. The Brits at the bar were soon after treated to an elegant and much deserved chorus of “AMERICA, FUCK YEAH!” and “USA,USA,USA!” Yes, it was a tie, but we’ll take it given all the cocky smirks it wipe off the face of British people everywhere.

After that, the day gets a tad hazy, as our supposed nap around 7pm turned into a 12 hour sleep back at the apartment.

Travel Movie Review: Hotel for Dogs

To fully experience this movie review, please click here and resume reading. To get the complete Rio Uruguay Bus Xperience, turn the volume off and watch with Spanish subtitles.

Our 34 hour roundtrip to Iguazu saw the showing of no less than six (seis!) films, only one of which involved John Travolta, bazookas, and hipster scarves.

The standout show of the trip however was the small budget “Hotel for Dogs”, a product of Nickelodeon Films that surprisingly did not involve anyone getting slimed. Following the endearing (mis)adventures of two young siblings, the movie attempted to tackle complicated issues of race, acceptance, and how to get rid of massive amounts of dogpoo.

The story starts off with Emma Roberts and her little brother attempting to con a pawn shop owner by selling him a Boost Mobile (not blatant product placement) box filled with rocks. You could tell this was a bad idea to start with because everyone knows that Verizon offers the best coverage nationwide. We are meant to induce that Emma Roberts and her brother are poor, which is confusing because her aunt is Hollywood gazillionaire Julia Roberts; once your suspension of disbelief sets in this movie becomes more relatable.

Shortly after pulling off the heist of the century, Emma Roberts her brother are caught by the police who take them to the social services center, where out of nowhere appears Oscar Winner Don Cheadle, who I guess liked the script A LOT. We find out that EmRobs and Co. are orphans currerntly living with the foster parents from hell, who turn out to be the ugly lady from Friends and Johnny Drama (which on paper sound like awesome foster parents). Once back at home, we find out that the kids have a small dog named Friday, who lives with them - unbeknownst to the parents - and likes to eat a lot. This is hilarious because he’s a small dog (the laughs keep coming from here on out so be prepared).

A few days later, Friday gets caught by the city’s dogcatcher unit, which is massive for some reason, which forces EmRobs to use up the last of their cash to bail him out. On the way back home, they stumble into an abandoned hotel conveniently placed right next to their apartment complex; there, they run into two more dogs, and the kids decide to take care of all three. The little brother begins to clean up the hotel while EmRobs goes out to find some dogfood.

Predictably, the guy working at the dogfood store is suuuuper cute, and rocks a Justin Bieber haircut that would make Phil Cooney proud. EmRobs is totally into him, which yields a sassy sarcastic retort from the other store employee, Queen Latifah 2.0; the three bond over a 5 minute commercial transaction and they head back to the hotel together (please keep that in context). A few days later a fat kid with no name (we’ll call him Brock), shows up, thus completing the racially diverse cast necessary to all teen movies.

The kids begin to clean up the hotel and build clever machines to automate the daily process of taking care of the dogs (obviously through montage), at the same time, more dogs keep being brought in from the streets because apparently everyone keeps abandoning them.

Things are going well, UNTIL THEY DON”T. EmRobs goes to a big party where she gets called out for being an orphan, something she’d been lying about the whole time because apparently it’s really embarrassing. Then someone spills a drink on her (more her fault than his), and she runs out of the party. At the same time, the food machine in the hotel breaks and the dogs destroy everything, her brother gets caught by Johnny Drama while stealing a hairdryer, and in the ensuing pursuit the whole hotel operation gets busted. The dogs are sent to the pound and the kids back into orphanages.

Things go from bad to worse when the foster parents decide they’ve had enough of the kids and send them back to separate orphanages. This lasts for about ten minutes until Justin Bieber haircut picks them both up (apparently you can just leave orphanages at will) and they decide to plan the most daring escape plan since Nic Cage in Face/Off. Through a series of preparation montages reminiscent of Rocky IV (perhaps the best documentary ever made), the kids manage to free all the dogs in the pound and set them on course for an animal shelter (it got confusing). The highlight of the scene involved Brock using a combination of wrestling skills and enormous amounts of saturated fat to subdue the guard who was threatening Queen Latifah 2.0. You better believe they chose “Who Let the Dogs Out” for the soundtrack.

Brock. His hobbies include not exercising

and being passive aggressive.

The escape is well underway and Friday, who for some reason is the fastest dog of the group even though we clearly saw at least four greyhounds in the previous scene, is leading the pack. Suddenly, despite the fact that they’re following A VAN FULL OF DELI MEATS, Friday remembers his pillow and takes a unplanned turn, spurring all the dogs who can also clearly see/smell the VAN FULL OF DELI MEATS to follow him. Of course they end back up at the hotel, where the kids conveniently arrive at the same time as the dogcatchers, the press, the police, and everyone in the surrounding 25 blocks. Things are looking bleak for the kids and the pets when once again, out of nowhere, appears Oscar Winner Don Cheadle, who uses the ridiculous acting chops to convince everyone that an historically significant landmark should be converted into a residence for dogs, despite the lack of any social or economic benefit. Of course everyone agrees with him and what was once a shabby yet functional setup is transformed into a hotel that could rival the George V in terms of service. Recession Schmecession.

For obvious storyline reasons EmRobs and Justin Bieber haircut finally hook up, and Oscar Winner Don Cheadle adopt the siblings. FIN.

As the tagline stated, this movie was “Bark out loud funny!”; see it before this becomes the next Twilight franchise and you’re left in the dust.

Iguazu

After a 17 hour bus ride from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu, we were ready to get up and get going, so naturally we sat down at the first restaurant we saw after leaving the bus station. The food was huge and delicious and was exactly what we needed after our lackluster bus food breakfast. We quickly went and checked into our hostel which was actually pretty nice as far as hostels go. We had a private triple room and our own bathroom. The hostel also had a huge screen TV, a Jacuzzi, a pingpong table, and a bar. After checking in, we hopped on a bus that took from the town to the national park which was about 20 minutes away.

We got to the falls kind of late in the day, so we didn’t have time to do everything. We decided to split up our trip. We were going to see the falls from above one the first day, and the falls from below on the second. The park had a little train running that would take you around, but we decided to walk because we had had enough sitting. I think we ended up walking around 6 or 7 miles. Anyway, the first path we took went along the train tracks, through the jungle, and around the falls to top of the largest and most secluded waterfall at Iguazu, “The Devil’s Throat”. We could hear the rushing water and see the mist coming from it way before we could actually see the actual waterfall. It was also comforting that the powers that be decided to leave the wreckage of past walkways that had been destroyed.

Comforting

The waterfall was pretty amazing and words and pictures alone can’t describe how cool it actually is. The catwalk was directly over part of the falls. The water was flowing so fast and so far down that you couldn’t even see the bottom. The mist was rising way above our heads. It was pretty awesome.



We then walked back to the main area and got on a different trail that would take us along the top of the other waterfalls. Those waterfalls weren’t quite as big, but were equally awesome. There were some that were hidden in the jungle, some huge ones just rolling off the cliffs, and one that looked like the Hoover Damn had broken.

Little guy almost got me

Along our walk we also got to see some interesting wildlife. We saw a bunch of toucans way up in the trees. We also saw the Dale Earnhardt, Jr. of butterflies. I was also almost scared off a catwalk into the waterfall by a coati that snuck on me when I was trying to take a picture of the river. I had seen pictures of them, but when I turned around and saw one about a foot and a half from my face I jumped back a little, but with my catlike agility I was able to regain my balance and not fall over the edge. Of course mammal being the ultimate friend saw the whole thing happen from the beginning and said nothing. After finishing the trail, we were told the park was closing, so we headed back to the bus. That night we had some of the best steaks of our lives.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. in butterfly form

The next morning we headed back to falls and walked along the lower trail. We saw a bunch more coatis and I was prepared this time. One path ended at a deck that was in the midst/mist of a waterfall. We got soaked after standing there for about 30 seconds, but that was nothing compared to what came next. We hiked down the cliffs to the river and hoped in a boat, which was basically a big zodiac with hard plastic seats. The boat took around a little so we could take pictures. Then it took us into the icy brown water of the waterfalls themselves. We were literally at the base of the falls getting soaked. It was pretty awesome. The capitan then took us around an island underneath some other falls which were equally as cool. Finally after chants of “una vez más”, the capitan took us back for an encore. This time he actually took us into the waterfall and letting some of the water fall directly on to some of our shipmates. We all agreed that is was one of the best AR$100 we had ever spent. After getting back to terra firma and attempting to dry off, we hiked back up the steep slope and went back to the bus, which took us to the terminal de omnibus where we waited for our bus back to Buenos Aires which arrived 3 hours late.

The Herms Take a Walk

Today we assumed our customary 2:30 pm wake up and decided we’d let Quentin decide what to do. Being the nature lover that he is, he decided we should check out the Buenos Aires BotanicalGardens that we might have a quaint look at the various flora and fauna of the nation. Unfortunately, we also decided to let him navigate. After2 or so miles of walking, it occurred to us that we indeed went the exact opposite direction of where we needed to go. Undeterred, we changed our plans and gave Quentin rightfully deserved shit for the next hour or so. Fittingly, this is right where we realized that we were lost:

Claro que si!

We continued our walking tour of the city past its major business district towards Plaza San Martin, where Joe and I filled in Quentin on all the interesting factoids we had gathered from our ventures here earlier in the week. Once again we made our way back home via Calle Florida, where all the various street merchants peddle their wares amidst the high end designer stores. I carefully avoided taking another $5 peso picture of the tango man. We decided to walk home and later figured out via the interwebs that we walked about 12 kms in our trip around the city.

For dinner, we decided to walk down Santa Fe and eat at the first place that looked appetizing. Famished, we were intrigued as we passed a Burger King, and even more intrigued when we saw that they deliver. Fortunately, we resisted the urge and walked one block more where we found a parrilla named La Payuca. Most notable about La Payuca is the large childs play-place on the second story of the restaurant. The lower level was quite classy with cloth napkins and a well decorated interior with a distinctly Argentine panache. We let Quentin pick the wine, which turned out to be a much better decision than letting him navigate. He picked out a delicious Malbec/Cabernet Sauvignon blend that wasn’t one bit too earthy. For our entrée, we all split the meat platter which consisted of two different types of Argentine steaks, a variety of sausages, chicken, kidney, and ribs. Most exotic of the platter were the blood sausages, which didn’t quite cut if for me texturally. Anyhow, we ate like kings for around $20 US a person. Food coma quickly set in after dinner, and we stumbled our way home before passing out.

The Herms Join A Bike Gang

…for a tour of the town. While we’d enjoyed walking around the city for the past few days, Buenos Aires’ extensive breadth had made it difficult to cover more than a single part of the city each day. In the hopes of getting some exposure to the more out-of-the-way neighborhoods and getting a challenging quad workout, we signed up for the Buenos Aires Bike Tours, which would take us through Retiro, Puerto Modero, Santelmo, La Boca, and finally Plaza Mayo. This would be a challenging day: we would have to arrive at Plaza San Martin before 2:00 pm and make it through the notoriously busy streets of the city’s centre without getting run over.

As it turns out, the sun rises over Buenos Aires at a relatively normal time (something not obvious from our apartment), and by the time we got to the Plaza it was straight up hot. Joe Moore and I had opted for khaki shorts and sweatshirts, while Mammel, who was intent on taking the lead during the intense mountain stages of the ride, went for the triathlete look. He looked like a more handsome Brad Pitt.

Pure. Sexy.

Our guide, Miguelito showed up dressed like an Eskimo, and was very impressed by our indifference to the arctic 75 degree weather. After some quick introductions and an ill-advised attempt at rocking the helmet look, we were off. Our first stop was the newest neighborhood of the city: Puerto Modero. Best described as a reengineered 19^th century harbor, the neighborhood is a sleek balance of old and new, and the location of many top-notch restaurants and highrise apartments. The pedestrian bridge that crosses its center, one of the most prominent features of the city, symbolizes the blending of old and new that can be seen around the whole city: build from space-age material, it represents a Tango couple in the middle of a dance.

It's not as innocent as you think

Next stop was Santelmo, a distinctly residential area and one of the poorer parts of the capital. As we both figuratively and literally crossed the tracks, buildings got smaller and more colorful, with stray dogs walking around as small groups of youths joked around on porch steps. Things were quieter here, and we settled down somewhat as the constant fear of vehicular collision became less of a concern. Almost seamlessly, Santelmo turned into La Boca, another poor neighborhood home to the notorious Boca Junior Athletic Club, the starting point of Argentine mega-legend Maradona. Characterized by its soccer stadium, Boca clearly appealed to foreigners, a fact it has exploited extensively. Boca’s tourist district is the stereotype of the Latin nation: constant soliciting by peddlers of all sorts, crowded streets, and endless rows of stores selling the same products. Nonetheless, the place has charm, and once you actually settle down at one of the cafes and order a Coke, it’s an enjoyable stop.

The Cafe that will go down in infamy

Unfortunately, La Boca turned out to be the beginning of the end of an enjoyable day as we entered into an ill-fated bet with Matt over the caloric content of Diet Coke. Mammel, thanks to a combination of intense (nonexistent) study habits and his ability to make complete BS sound factual, assured us that Diet Coke had neither sugar nor calories. Joe and I, confident that the Coca Cola company would never stoop as low as marketing two products with the same nutrition under two names, asserted that only Coke Zero had 0 calories (because duh), while Diet Coke only had 0 sugars. Our confidence soared so high that we bet Mammel a trip’s worth of free Coke, a bet he immediately accepted and then almost as immediately began backing out of. Matt’s stress level remained high for the rest of the trip, which would make the later revelation all the more painful…

After a quick beverage, we checked out a few stores, Mammel bough a Maradona jersey (“chicks love that guy”), and we got back on the road. We headed back into Santelmo, and through a park, where our guide imparted us with by far the funniest fact of the day. It turns out that the Tango, Argentina’s sexiest export, was originally reserved only for men (until 1934!); who would dance together at bars after work before heading upstairs to the prevalent burdels of the city. Our guide called it mental preparation; it also explains why Argentine men are so flexible.

Not your grandfather's Tango

As the afternoon came to an end, we made our ways back to Retiro, stopping on the way at the Plaza de Mayo (the original city center) and making our way through some of the older parts of the city. After a long day of riding, and a brutal uphill climb to the second floor of the parking lot where we began our journey (Joe and Mammel made it, I did not), we headed out for some Happy Hour Cervezas and made our way back through the Subte.

It had been a long day in itself, but Matt Hammel, compulsive entertainer, still had a hand left to play. Most people over the age of 6 can exit a subway car without little problems, but Matt is no ordinary guy (you should see his resume!). In the span of 15 seconds, he managed to get both his head (funny), and then two seconds later his foot (lol funny) stuck in the subway door as we exited. Because we are great friends we fell over laughing and made no effort to help him whatsoever. We’re still looking for the security cam footage.

Postscript: Matt Hammel, Consultant, turned out to be right, Diet Coke has the same nutritional info as Coke Zero, even though it does not in fact taste like Coke. We’ve been good sports and honored our bet since then, even though he kindly offered to make it just one Coke each. I hate to admit it, but I was outsmarted by Matt Hammel…

Cold. Hard. Facts.

…I hope he gets Austin Freeman Disease.

The French Missed Connection

Day 7:

After an unplanned 24 hour layover in the Houston airport - home of hip-hop phenomenon Mike Jones - I finally arrived in Buenos Aires at around 9am. The flight's only English language film had been "The Proposal", starring Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock, and despite having been marketed as a romantic comedy, it was an enthralling political drama that attempted to tackle the complicated issues of civic identity in the United States and finding yourself in the fast-paced world of the modern economy. See it as soon as you can.

Since I have a really hard time sleeping on planes and had consumed approximately 14 cups of Mountain Dew in the last 3 hours of the flight, I was eager to discuss the movie with soon-to-be roommates, however, the groggy and perhaps not entirely sober Joe Moore who let me into the apartment building clearly had other plans in mind. Matt, through a series of grunting noises that can only be truly understood after a year of cohabitation, made it clear that the day was unlikely to actually begin before the mid-afternoon, and so I settled into the established routine and got some sleep.

Much later that day, we finally headed out into Buenos Aires, with the plan to round out the city's historic cemeteries by visiting El Cemeterio Recoleta. Having spent most of the last two days sitting down waiting for things, I was eager to get some exercise, so of course we took a cab. Once there (and after a quick sandwich), we headed into the cemetery, which was really a miniature version of the city around it. Mammel, whose tour guide had the famous tombs highlighted, was quick to rush us around to various shrines, including San Martin; Argentina's first president; and that one lady Madonna played in that one movie (Oscar snub?). We also got really emo with the photography.

Once Matt had satiated his thirst for celebrity mausoleums, we decided to head back towards the apartment and make a stop at the Museo de las Buenas Artes (not the be confused with the less popular Museo de las Mediocre Artes). Only a short walk away, this nonetheless entailed having to cross a busy street, which in Argentina requires a mix of speed and agility usually reserved for video game characters. After the adrenaline rush of making it to the Museum, the exhibits themselves were somewhat dull, but the blurbs allowed for the much needed opportunity to brush up on our Spanish.

Unofficial Trip Sponsor

After rehydrating with a few Quilmes (the Argentine gentleman's Natural Ice), we headed out to dinner. Matt had found a delicious all-you-can-eat steak restaurant a few blocks away, and so Joe and I were a little surprised (but not really) when the restaurant in question advertised only Sushi. Once inside though, Mammel turned out to be correct, and as bonus the meat chef looked like a Disney character. We got our protein fix and headed back to the apartamiento.

After watching the NBA finals back the apartment (SLAMALAMADINGDONG), we headed out to the Plaza Serada a popular area of town with a bunch of bars and clubs that surround a small central plaza. We opted first to go play some pool, where my superior athleticism and the lack of catching involved allowed me to easily dominate the game. Its around this time that we began to instigate our socializing strategy of talking English very loudly. This worked surprisingly well, and we were soon talking to Icelandic exchange students; being the mature college grads that we are, we refrained from making volcano jokes and even pretended that Bjork was a good singer. Soon enough, it was 3:30 am, and the barkeeps subtly hinted that we had to leave by refusing to sell us any more pitchers. Fortunately, the other 80 bars in the plaza were still open, and so we settled in at El Cronico, where the beer flows like cerveza. There, we finally made some Argentine friends, and a drunk guy in a bleached Canadian tux offered to introduce us to his entire family. Soon enough, it was 6am, and in order to keep our 2pm wakeup on schedule, we called it a night.