NASCAR Buenos Aires

So we got our car! Yeah!! I can hardly describe how liberating it is to have a car. Honestly though, I don't go out that much. First, there are not a lot of places to go by car. Second, but definitely not least, the drivers here are just a little bit maniacal.

Today I had to drive into the heart of the city by myself for an orthodontist appointment for the girls, and I had to give myself a pep talk before we left. Why? As my remis driver once said, "We Argentines like to drive like Mario Andretti."

In my short 4 1/2 months here, I've already seen three pedestrians down.

I know this isn't the best picture, but it's with a phone, and in the car. This area is near what I would call the Central Park area of Buenos Aires.

Going into the city, there are between 2-5 lanes, depending on your location, but most commonly three. The collectivos (buses) dominate the two right lanes. They don't signal, they don't look, they just floor it and go. This forces cars to weave in and out of the right two lanes, while pushing into the left lane. Thus, lanes are merely suggestions. More frequently than not, cars ride half in one lane half in the other, so they can push into whichever lane does not have a road block.

Today on my way into the city, a piece of junk car did the non-committal lane thing, and as a car from the far left lane swerved into his half-lane, he swerved into mine, and I slammed on my breaks throwing all my children up against the back of the seats in front of them, and fortunately avoided the accident. I may or may not have cursed. After which he looked at me and gave me a thumbs-up, as if to say, "Good job not hitting me!"

Once we got to the Orthodontist, I had to park. Parking here is like parking in NYC, good luck! I ended up at McDonalds. Nothing like an ice cream sundae parking fee right before having someone look at your teeth!

The appointment took long enough that on the way home it was rush hour... in one of the largest cities in the world. I felt like Danica Patrick, except my car is twice as big as everyone else's. I usually drive in the far left lane to avoid the buses and the swerving. The problem is, the left lane has cars turning, and there is no turning lane, so there is always more swerving.

On the way home I experienced the motorcycle drivers. There is a place where there are five lanes of traffic. With a solid wall of cars. The motorcycle drivers would cross over the double-yellow line into oncoming traffic, so I had to deal with swervers, as well as head-on motorcyclists.

There may or may not have been a couple of times that I swerved just a little bit with my big fat SUV to scare them.

As soon as I got home, I went straight to my chocolate stash.

The positive thing that came out of my day, is the orthodontist's son told me, "Next time you can park right out on the street because you have diplomatic plates." I may or may not have felt just a little bit cooler than him after that.

Oh, and one more thing, about one out of every ten cars has these red ribbons tied to the back of their car. We asked a police officer what they are for. Apparently they are supposed to stop your car from  blowing up if there is a sudden electric shock. That is some awesome red ribbon!

Until next time, Adios!

Mosquitos, Cockroaches, and Sewage, Oh My!

I know it's been a while. The reason for that is multiplefold (I know that's not really a word). First, we got our household shipment (No, we still have not gotten our car), so I've been unpacking our stuff and trying to find a place for everything, especially in my kitchen. I probably have about one-fourth as many cupboards as I did in San Diego, so I've had to get creative! Second, honestly I've been depressed - and I didn't want to write about that. To give you a brief overview, there is a culture shock curve. It lasts about six months. In the beginning it is the honeymoon phase, next is the; This place must be Hades phase (which is where I was at), next is the climb out phase (which is where I am now), and at about six months you are thoroughly enjoying your new home (which I am anxiously awaiting). Third, I have been busy with some of the things you will learn about later in this post (which contributed to the Hades phase).

So, to go on to our post for today, I thought it was totally appropriate because tomorrow is Halloween, and things right now in Argentina are a little Halloweeny. Not in the fun, candy, party, way, because they don't celebrate Halloween here, but in the creepy, crawly, nasty way.

First, I am posting a picture of my house. It is just the outside, because it is just the outside that goes with this post. Why? You might ask. Because we live in what looks like a Haunted House!

The black gates with pointed tips, the black pitched roof, and the black bars on the windows all make it a perfect Haunted House. You can get a better view of the sharp angles from the back of the house here:

To compliment the atmosphere, we've had a few issues, as mentioned in the title of this post. First, we'll talk about these:

Cockroaches! Of all the places I've lived, I've never dealt with these before. So when I first unpacked my kitchen, I made sure all of the cupboards and drawers were clean. After a few days, I noticed what looked like little poppyseeds in some of the cupboards, and I wasn't sure why. Then one night when Taelor went down to get a drink of water, we heard a scream!! We ran down, and with tears in her eyes, she screamed, "A cockroach! Aaaaaah!"

After googling cockroaches, we learned that if you see one, there are more. I also learned those little poppyseed things, were actually cockroach poop. Super awesome! So after a little jaunt to the store to buy some roach hotels, we now see poison drunk cockroaches walking out of the cupboards on their way to die! That really is super awesome! I don't even mind the crunch when I step on their nasty bodies because I want them to die!

On to the next issue, I don't have a picture for this one because it's not really about the picture, it's about the smell. A week or two after we had been in the house, we had an issue. The sewer backed up into our garage. Again, super awesome! We quickly bleach-mopped the garage as we moved the shelves, dryer, refrigerator, etc. Lucky for us, it happened two more times! Let me just tell you, the smell alone may have been the thing that made the cockroaches drunk!

And last, but not least, the mosquitos are nasty. We are in springtime right now, so I am absolutely and completely terrified for what happens when all the eggs hatch and the mosquitos come in full force. I do have a picture for this one. Lance got bit right next to his eye, and this is the result:

Lance seems to have a much bigger reaction than the rest of us to the mosquitos here, including swelling, and sometimes blisters and puss. I wish I could say we were safe in our house, but the mosquitos wait at the door and come in when you do. The other morning, Mike killed about 20 of them in our kitchen.

For now, I think I've scared you all enough! Say your prayers that tomorrow on Halloween, you won't wake up into my nightmare!!!


Disclaimer: I make it sound all awful, but it's not really. But I can only talk about the scary stuff on my Halloween post!

Until next time, Adios!

God Bless America

I know it's been a while since I've posted. I've been pretty busy. We got our air shipment, and we moved into our permanent house. But today, that's not what I want to post about. I'll post pictures of the new house and all the details later.

*Picture of the Washington Monument we took when we lived in Washington DC

For now I just want to share what a blessing freedom is. I realize a lot of my freedom in America comes from living in the places I've lived, and what I mean by that is middle-class America. I've always lived in safe communities where I've felt the freedom to go out and do, and experience what I wanted to.

Living here, in a home with bars on all the windows (pictures to come later), a guard on the corner who may or may not be extorting us, and a plethora of stories about being a victim, leaves me feeling trapped. (Okay, maybe not speaking the language contributes to that a little bit ... okay maybe a lot ... I can't tell you how many times I've called a taxi company only to have them hang up on me because they couldn't understand me).

If you aren't familiar with the Harry Potter books, you may not understand this next analogy, but in the last book there is a constant gray dread hanging over England. It is a constant presence. In fact it is such a strong aspect of the story, it almost becomes a character in and of itself because it is always there, affecting the mood.

That is to me how it feels here right now. The bars, the gates, the bolts, etc. are constant reminders of what is out there. They are inanimate objects that are pushing me into my house and keeping me here.

I miss my freedom! I miss the LUXURY of getting in my car and feeling safe enough to go and explore, and do what I want to. I miss the LUXURY of pulling my iphone out in public to answer a call or look up some information.

As I mentioned before, I realize there are places in the States where I might feel the same. I know there were places like that in Los Angeles, and probably places like that in every State.

The thing is, here in Buenos Aires right now, there isn't anywhere that feels like safe middle-class America.

About two weeks ago, shortly after we moved in to our house, a man came up to our gate and offered his services as our gardner. He also told us he is the head of all the security in our neighborhood. They have a little guard shack that looks like a telephone booth on every block or two, and someone sits in there 24-7.

After he offered his services as a gardner, he asked for the $950 pesos ($200 dollars) for the month for the security detail. Mike told him we'd get back to him as the Embassy already has a security company driving by our house and other Embassy houses in the neighborhood 24-7.

As we noticed these corner guards watching our every move and talked to friends who have a guard shack two feet in front of their house who were robbed while they were out of town, we realized the guards are probably watching us more than protecting us.

Yesterday our neighbor was talking with Mike and told him the same gardner/security director who had approached us was his gardner until last week when his wife saw him take a rare plant from their yard and have his son put it in their landscaping car.

That of course makes us feel super-safe having them watch every time we leave our house. And they make sure we know they are watching. They walk out of the shack, just to let us know they are watching.

At first we weren't sure if they were just trying to sell their services to us, trying to convince us they were worth their $200 a month, or extorting us. After yesterday, it looks like it might be the latter. The question is, do you pay for their non-security to keep them from robbing us themselves?

I won't let all of this keep me from enjoying Argentina, because there is plenty to enjoy. Just yesterday I walked to a little store a few blocks away that makes fresh pasta, which was divine. And right next door to that was a little bakery which is equally as good. I will focus on those benefits, and once in a while I'll get frustrated by the lack of freedom I feel, and be absolutely, and completely grateful that in three years I get to go back to the best country in the world!

Dora

I saw this today and laughed out loud because it's as if someone pinned it just for me!

Yes, I now watch Dora the Explorer in Spanish while my children are at school. And yes, I couldn't answer any of her questions because I didn't understand them.

You think I'm kidding, I wish I was. When Dora talks, it's at lightning speed, and the same goes for Boots. I never thought I'd see the day when I was wishing I could speak as well as a toddler and her pet monkey.

Until next time, Adios!

Life is like a Rollercoaster .....

So first first things first, for some reason the pictures from my last post weren't working, so I fixed those.

Second, this post is like a jump off post from my last post. Yesterday on my way to Joonbo again, (actually I guess it was on the way home), I was sitting in the front seat on the bus, which faces towards the back, so I could see everyone else on the bus. I was looking out the window and kind of zoning out after my shopping ordeal. After a stop, a few people shuffled onto the bus, then suddenly a man started talking in a loud voice. Of course, I had no idea what he was saying.

I looked up and saw a man in black standing right in front of me, but he was facing everyone else, so I couldn't see his face. Immediately my stomach dropped and I pictured this:



I felt like I was sitting at the top of a rollercoaster and it was about to speed down the hill and through two upside-down loops. I froze as I tried to understand what the heck he was saying. I even saw a women start to open her purse.

Mike had warned me of guys coming onto buses and into stores and robbing everyone.

A second later I looked at the faces of the other passengers, and they didn't look terrified. I looked closer at the man in black, and saw a basket at his feet. He lifted it up and it was full of home-made goodies. Apparently he was trying to make some extra money the right way.

While it was only a three-second ride, I felt like I had just been on the world's craziest rollercoaster and we just pulled back into the loading zone. After a few deep breaths, I chuckled, and I might have cursed my husband just a little bit for his "preparation."

Until next time, Adios!

Shop Talk

So let's talk about shopping today. After four weeks, I finally feel like I am a decent hunter. I say hunt because what I'm doing is not as easy as gathering, it's hunting ... I'm talking about food.

Today I went to a store called Jumbo (pronounced Joonbo - the bus driver won't know how much to charge you if you say Jumbo, and he'll keep saying Que? Que? with a few laughs in between). Fortunately the bus I pick up to go to Joonbo is only a couple of blocks from my current house, so I hop on the bus and get off fifteen minutes later right in front of Joonbo.

Joonbo is a large supermarket full of products I don't recognize, and can't pronouce, or read about. An interesting fact about Argentina is they don't like imports. It's not that they just tax them heavily, they don't allow them. For example, BMW wants to sell cars here, and they don't have a plant here. But Argentina has declared you must manufacture the same value in products here in Agrentina that you are going to sell in Argentina. So in order to sell here, they have a plant that makes mayonaise (I think it's mayonaise - or something like it). I guess they feel the Argentines can manufacture good mayonaise, but not the best cars.

So because of all the import restrictions, 99% of what they carry is Argentine products. My first week here, I walked up and down isles of different grocery stores looking for anything I recognized, and wondered what I was going to feed my family. The hunt was on.

The hunt is still on. While I have figured out what some things are (mostly due to the kindness of others - I had a couple of women take me shopping and show me what they buy), I feel like I am cooking with one hand tied behind my back for a few reasons:

First, I don't have any of my stuff yet. Our air shipment that was supposed to take ten days still is not here. I just got an email that while it was supposed to arrive today, it didn't. It was in the port at Miami a few days ago, so I just pray that Tropical Storm/Hurricane Isaac didn't soak everything.

Why does that matter? Because I have a skeleton kitchen with a meager selection of pans and utensils. I have a mini-skillet to feed a family of 6. Oh, but they did provide two pie pans, because with all the stuff I have I'll be making pies?

The other reason I would like my stuff is I need my spices. All the spices (I say all with a little laugh, because it's really only a few) come in these little bags. Kind of like this little tiny bag of baking soda:

I put the spoons next to it for two reasons: first to show how small the largest packet is, and second to show you my measusring spoons. When I need to add a teaspoon of baking soda, I pick up the small one and eyeball it, and hope for the best.

The second obstacle I have is figuring out how they do things. For example, milk comes like this:

So at first, we bought a glass pitcher so we could pour the milk from the bag into the pitcher. The problem was, we spilled it every time. All over the pitcher, the counter, the table. Until we saw these:

I wish I had sound effects and it would make that heavenly choir sound. With this little piece of plastic, my life got a lot easier. Before this little concoction, I was constantly spilling, wiping, then washing pitchers. Now, I just plop the bag in, cut off the corner of the bag, and pour. :)

Okay one more thing about the milk, it tastes like powdered milk. The way we solved that:

Heavenly choirs again. So I know I said they don't import things. Nesquick makes the chocolate powder down here too, because the milk needs it!!! For those of you who don't know my feelings about processed foods and such, let me fill you in. I'm not a fan. I like to keep it simple and as close to real food as possible. So for me to be singing heavenly choirs about Nesquick, you know the milk tastes pretty weird.

Are you ready for the third obstacle? My oven/stove. It's terrible. All four burners go from really high to pretty dang high. I burn a lot of food. Especially with the mini junk skillet. I wish it stopped there, I really do, but the oven is just as bad as the stovetop. First, this is a picture of the temperature gage on the oven:

As you can see, there is not a single temperature marking. You light it and take a guess where along that curved line 350 degrees might be. After burning a few things, I ordered this from Amazon:

Last night I made banana bread (I borrowed a 9x13 pan from a friend), so I turned on the oven, stuck the thermometer in and checked it. It was at 400 degrees, so I opened the door, cranked the knob counter-clockwise a little and waited until it was 325 degrees. I stuck the pan in, but set the timer for 10 minutes. When I checked at ten minutes, it was down to 300 degrees, so I cranked he knob clockwise just a bit. Five minutes later, 375 degrees. Open oven, crank counter-clockwise just a bit. Close oven. Five minutes later, 315 degrees. Crank clockwise. Suddenly, husband comes in pleading: "Just take it out. I don't want it to burn. It doesn't matter if the middle is gooey." I guess too much anticipation for American food, followed by burnt disappointments leaves one's family desperate!

So after all this burnt-food frustration, you'd think I'd be a super-svelte soccer mom, right? Well, the problem is they have this stuff here called, Dulce de Leche. They have a whole isle of it at the grocery store. It makes everything taste better. You actually don't even need to put it on anything. You can just eat it right out of the jar. And they make ice cream out of it ... technically I think it's gelato. And there's a place right around the corner ... it's just so easy to go get some dulce de leche ice cream for dinner to soothe our burnt tongues!

This post is already way too long, so until next time, Adios!

Order of the Phoenix

So as I mentioned in my last post, Mike talked me into getting this:

His name is Phoenix. The reason his name is Phoenix is because of the follwing:

1. In three weeks time, we already know three families who have had their homes burglarized.

2. I was reading an expat Buenos Aires post and it did a survery about crime. Half of the people who replied had been a victim of a crime. Not the best odds.

3. Mike will have to travel from time to time.

So as much as I pleaded and maybe even cried a little, he convinced me we needed to get a big dog. He's not big yet, because we needed to familiarize him with our current dog, Cali, before he gets too big. But within a year, he will be about 150-200 lbs. He is a great dane, so he will be huge!

So the reason I named him Phoenix is because he will be the Eckel family's "Order of the Phoenix." For those of you who have no clue what that means ... shame on you! No, but seriously, it is from the Harry Potter books. The Order of the Phoenix is the group of Aurors who protect Harry Potter when things get really bad.

So our hope is first that things won't get really bad, and a distant second, that if they do, Phoenix will be our protector.

How is the training of a new puppy going, day after day in the rain? It has made me cry a little more, and reconsider re-naming him, Dang Dog!

As for if Phoenix and Cali are getting along, I'll let you be the judge: