Argentina
Flying into Buenos Aires you're stunned at how big the city is; it makes you think you're in El Ay, it's so spread out. The big difference is the two hugely wide streets, probably just as wide as the Champs-Elysees (in that hellhole known as Paris) or Paseo de la Reforma in Mexico City. Anyone care to guess the name of the more important street? Avenue July Ninth! Why is this important? My birthday, of course. (Also Sara Donaldson's, and apparently Tom Hanks'.) Claiming you didn't know when it was is no longer a valid excuse. And no clothes, even UCLA t-shirts! I already have a UCLA umbrella too.
After the tango show the dancers would get people from the audience to try to teach them some moves. So of course one of the women, the prettiest I'm sure, came to my table and tried to persuade me to join in, and wouldn't believe me when I told her I already knew how to dance tango, but I'm on the injured reserve list for life. Finally I stood up and did some arm movements while standing still to prove I knew the stuff. She smiled, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and waved bye-bye as she went looking for another target. And it wasn't till I got back to the hotel that the desk clerk laughingly told me I had a huge lip mark on my cheek.
Oh, and a shoemaker/dancer tried to buy my boots because he loved them so much and wanted to make some just like it. That's one thing I never expected to happen to me.
I actually spent only one day touring Buenos Aires, since it doesn't have all that much going for it as far as tourist attractions, tango bars notwithstanding. It's a place to BE more than to see. Well, there's the obelisk, but once you've seen one Washington Monument you've seen them all. The second day I spent shooting models, some of which were tango dancers, though I couldn't picture them with all that heavy makeup and attitude.
Before I left on this trip I was asked if I was going to Patagonia, which seems to have some sort of quasi-religious sentiment attached to the name. Nope, the company I'm shooting for doesn't go there, and been there/done that. Although it would have been cool to revisit. . .
Well, here's the story:
Way back when I was in the Marine Corps, we parachuted at night after a 12-hour flight, not being told where the hell we were. In fact, the point was to figure out where in the world we were in as quick a time as possible, without being spotted by the locals. I was the intel guy, so it was my job to find out. I quickly figured out we were in the Southern Hemisphere, whereupon the team leader says, "That's a big help!" all sarcastic-like. My reply was, "Hey, I just eliminated half the world!" From there I found a small town and creeped up to the school--luckily it was the weekend--and saw a map through the window and figured out where we were and called it in--record time, too.
From there we were picked up and sent to jungle training in the Amazon, of which the less said the better. Can't use a rifle or knife on creepy-crawlies. Well, some of them were big enough to use a knife on, but too fast. And I didn't care if I flunked the course, there's no way I was eating 'em!
