Honk if you love sexy Jews. I no longer own a car, so I cannot honk my horn even though I like sexy Jews just as much as the next gal. But, let's get serious, I am reading this bumper sticker proclamation not on a sticker adhered to the bumper of a car, but on the back of a gigantic black laptop, so I am assuming the owner does not actually expect to hear any bleating honks of support anyway. And while the towering laptop screen blocks most of the owner's face, I can see a halo of frizzy grey hair crackling above a severely split double braid.
Hiking a glacier is not as dangerous as it sounds.
Hiking a glacier is not as difficult as it sounds.
Hiking a glacier is something that I never really thought about doing before I ventured to Argentina.
But I traveled to Calafate, and I hiked a glacier in the mountains of Patagonia.
Crampons strapped to the boots, parka zipped to the tippy toppy, don't drop your camera.
I am going to miss your fresh squeezed juices, your rainbow of fruits fresh off the farm, and your blue and white flag that waves its pride all over the place. And your helado. Man, I will miss your helado.
I will miss your people, your friendly, generous people that helped me when I was lost, when I didn't know the word for something, and when I asked ridiculous questions.
I don't know how any other nightlife I encounter will ever compare to your thumping beats that wake up the sun.
I am officially a lone traveler. Even though I came to Argentina by myself, I quickly joined forces with my trusty sidekick Zoe. It was inevitable, considering we live together, work together, and endured some family drama together. And it has been great, I was and am so lucky that Zoe turned out to be such a great gal and friend.
But Tuesday I went to the bus station on my own, purchased my roundtrip ticket to Iguazu, and loaded up early afternoon. Solita, as my traveling neighbor called me; little girl all alone.
An older woman walks by, she sludges by in her purple loafers, bracing her body onto a younger woman's arm. The younger woman is not young, but she wears pink tennis shoes and she has a barrette in place that keeps the flyaway hairs from getting out of hand. She is at least a foot taller than the older woman, and she wears a maroon skirt, even though it is breezy. I offer to vacate my bench just in case I inadvertently took their spot in this schoolyard filled with varying senior citizens, but they refuse, silently, with a shake of the head and a tranquil smile.
There are the obvious things, like my friends and my family and my city. And my honeys!! Man, I miss those dogs.
But then there are the other things, the things that tend to hit me quite suddenly, with no obvious preamble.
For instance, tortilla chips. I can make the guacamole, but I can't serve it with tortilla chips. I found some salted water crackers from the local panaderia that sufficed, but of course it was not the same.
Dried fruit without sulfur. I know it comes across as snobbish, but I can't help it.
I come to the park where the old people sit.
I come to the park to sit with the old people.
There is a home nearby so at all hours of the day I encounter gentlemen and gentle ladies being pushed through the trees or sitting in wheelchairs next to the benches where the caretakers sit.
I come to the park to read my book and also to show off my electronic book to the old lady who listens to her iPod. I forgot my iPod one day and she looked as if she wanted to offer me a bud, the left one while she kept the right one, but she didn't.
I wonder how many people commit suicide at Iguazu Falls. The thing is, the railings are there for you to maintain balance, to lean on for a closer view, a better picture. They are not high, nor strong, and they are certainly not impregnable. There are no signs posted with suicide hotlines like at the Golden Gate. As far as I know, there is not a local group intent upon building taller barriers like those in San Francisco. Maybe it is the steep entrance fee that deters would be jumpers. Then again, come on Monday and get half price on Tuesday.