Finding Wisdom, Courage and Grace on the road less traveled.
Colon is a UNESCO World Heritage Site on the Southern Coast of Uruguay. It’s a gorgeous little town, with cobbled streets so old, you have to tip toe to keep from tripping between the cracks. The cafés are small, authentic and quiet – some so rustic and intimate, you’d mistake them for your grandmother’s kitchen.
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Gawd I love Latin America. They just know how to prioritize all the important things in life. Forget efficient governments, reliable laws and customer service. There is passion, great food, tango, gratuitous shows of affection in public, and hoochierobics.
Hoochierobics!
After last night’s not-so-great Reggaeton classes, I figured Areo Interval would be more, you know, technical. I’d imagined step aerobics with weights and tae-bo and whatever else areo intervals are all about. Thankfully, I was wrong.
It’s like aerobics but sluttier. You mambo, you salsa, you grind your ass right down to the floor. Imagine this and this and this blasting so loud you can’t hear yourself think. There are mirrors and hips and jiggling and sweat. It’s aerobics on crack.
What a great way to spend an hour on a random Tuesday night. Inappropriate dancing, taught by an instructor who inappropriately flirts with the all-female attendees, grinding, sweating, singing and cha-cha-cha-ing all in the name of good health. Amen to Argentinian aerobics classes.
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I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a gym membership lately and last night, I finally decided YES. I’m not a gym person. I can’t do treadmills and weights and elliptical machines all by myself. The last time I did well at a gym was when I had a trainer.
All of this working from home and taking long walks by the park has been great but my energy levels have been low low low lately. So, I’ve decided to gym it.
Let me just say that Reggaeton dance classes are great. But you know what I realized? Reggaeton is actually only *really* great when you’re drunk in some bar in the middle of Lisbon with 4 of your closest girl friends. Reggaeton at 9 PM on a Monday night while completely sober is SO NOT the same experience. At all.
I think I’ll stick to plain ol’ vanilla aerobics on weeknights.
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Dear Argentina,
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love you for your beauty: the ragged, raw, realness of your bittersweet glamour, your happy-tragic history, your painted walls and crackling curb sides. I love your Figuero Alcorta grandeur, ancient purple-blossom trees, French architecture, green parks of happy spoiled dogs.
I love you for your barrios: your rooftop cafes, your bodégans, your fresh quiet Belgrano streets. I love your crazy beautiful thunderstorms observed from sheltered coffee shops in quiet Palermo squares. I love your corner bakery shops, your fruit stands, your peluquerias bursting with banter and gossip.
I love the sing-song of your tongue: the rrrrolling of your r’s, the rrrounded echoes of your vowels, your ‘sha’ sounds and ‘yah’ sounds. I am tongue-tied and twisted in your Castellano, its Italian rhythms, its novelty, its foreign and familiar shapes and sounds.
I love the richness of your cuisine: your coco medialunas, your maté cocido with honey sweetness, your buttery steaks and crisp milanesa de pollos. I love your simple meals in small family kitchens with fresh tomatoes and olive oils and warm teas.
I love your helados delivery: the dulce de leche gustos in all incarnations con almendras y nuez y granizadas, los mentas, los frutillas, los bananas y ananas, and yes, maybe even the sambayon. I love the Freddos, and the Voltas, the Persiccos and the Ghianellis. I love the magic of everyday ice cream, of everyday celebrations, of everyday delights just because.
I love your leisure: your after-office-till-4am Wednesday parties, your long drawn out dinners, your sweet aired wines, your street-side eateries. I love your siestas and long lunches, your at-home dinners with friends till midnight, your coffee times and meriendas. I love that days are lived full and long, late into the night.
I love your tango: its slow, sweet, hard curves and sounds, its turn-abouts and swing-abouts, its push and pull, give and tease. I love that it ignites a fire inside me so raw and real and physical, not of mind or heart: just body and dance and movement.
I love your people: their deep friendships and close ties, their Sunday meals with family, their love for children, their anchors with home. I love that grown men caress their grandmothers, that sisters kiss their brothers, that fathers embrace their sons, that touch and love and affection are infinite and insatiable. I love their stories and gripes, their strong opinions and lofty dreams. I love that they love to love.
I love you: for the gifts that you have given in the last 50+ days, for the space and time and freedom that you’ve granted, for the creativity that you’ve inspired, for the love that you’ve nurtured, for the perspective that you’ve shown. I love that you were once a dream, a lofty faraway dream, that then turned to reality: you literally have been what dreams are made of.
Dear Argentina, this sweet slow dance that we’ve shared has only just begun.
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I’ve just returned from one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. As part of the Sounds of Venezuela festival, I saw members of the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra with Omar Puente. I had no idea who these guys were until just a few days ago when I randomly stumbled upon an article about them. Here is snippet from the Telegraph:
The orchestra is the product of a 34-year-old project run by the Venezuelan government called El Sistema, which gives every girl and boy, however poor, the chance to have free music tuition and an instrument. This evening’s young conductor, Gustavo Dudamel — one of the most sought-after in the world — was also a product of this widely hailed system, and there has been much talk of Britain copying it.
I managed to find the ONE last seat in the entire venue a few days ago and immediately booked it! For 12 pounds I got to see one of the best concerts ever! Imagine a string quartet, a brass ensemble, a madman violinist from Cuba (Omar Puente), some bongo drums, a grande piano, a bass and a Cuban vocalist playing Latin jazz and salsa in an orchestra music hall. It was the closest thing to heaven for me. I danced in my seat the whole night, until the encore, where everyone was on their feet clapping to Guantanamera done by an orchestra! Can you even imagine it?!?! They linked Veneuzuelan and Cuban music and performed to an awe inspired crowd. It was the perfect fusion of art, culture, London randomness and everything that caters to my slight Latin obsession. I left there completely high!
Here is an excerpt from the program:
Around 2003, stories began to circulate within the music world about an extraordinary youth orchestra in Venezuela. World famous musicians of the calibre of Sir Simon Rattle talked about El Sistema, a national music system in Venezuela that had produced hundreds of youth orchestras and more than a quarter of a million young musicians, many of them from deeply underpriveleged backgrounds, who were playing with a dynamism and professionalism so compelling that they were creating a social and musical revolution of epic proportions.
The Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela is made up of 200 of the best young musicians coming out of El Sistema and over the past few years has established a reputation as one of the world’s most dynamic orchestras.
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I just got back from a one-week whirlwind trip to Buenos Aires. I hadn’t really planned this vacation but Mom had a business trip planned and she invited me along. The last time we traveled together was in February to Prague and that was only for two days. I really wanted to spend time with her so I decided to take the week off and head down to Latin America for the first time ever!
And I fell in love. With the gorgeous Italian-sounding Spanish. With the incredible fashion. With the nice people. With the Parisian feel of the architecture. With the amazing and affordable food. With basically all things Latin. My best friend Cynthia says that I must have been Latin in another life. I have such an affinity to the language, the music, the dances and the culture. I love how affectionate and open Latin people are. I’m fascinated by Latin beats like salsa and forro and nothing is more beautiful than the sound of Spanish sung or spoken. I am tongue tied and twisted just trying to learn it all. I decided then and there that I would move to BsAs for three months at some point in the next year so that I can really learn Spanish. I want to take the time to sit in cafes all day, meet locals, speak Spanish and just indulge in all the little projects I’ve been putting off for months. There is something inspiring about roaming a city for an entire week – with no agenda or itinerary. I just wandered the neighbourhoods for hours on end and in doing so, I realized how wide open space and time became. I was able to think creatively about new writing projects and indulged myself in the beauty of the architecture and the people. I didn’t think about work once and it felt so great! Vacations really should be that – real breaks from our obligations and a chance to unwind into our deepest passions and desires.
The city is amazing. It feels European but without the pretentiousness of the French (and that isn’t meant to offend any of my French friends). I met so many random people and could have easily stayed and had a circle of friends already in store. I met Jorge Schierano, a real estate tycoon who didn’t speak any English but somehow managed to ask me where I’m from, where I’m staying and if we could meet up later that evening. I feigned ignorance but gave him a sweet smile. I met Paulina, a sweet store clerk from Cuoio-Pagella who wrote out every possible shopping street that I could/should visit in the city. I met a cute waiter during dinner at Olsen – possibly the best food we had all trip – and learned some Spanish trying to converse with him (it was strange flirting with the cute boy in front of my mother and her co-workers but since none of us could really understand what was going on in Spanish, it seemed much less obvious!). I was also invited to Juan’s birthday party in January. He worked at Qara, which is now my new favourite shop in the whole wide world. The leather bags in this place are just immaculate – beautifully designed and showcased, and soft as a baby’s bottom. Just exquisite (and equally expensive)! Lucas and Willy, both colleagues of Mom’s, were just amazing hosts and I know that when the time comes for me to come back to BsAs, I will be so well taken cared of. Portenos/portenas are just like that – mellow, so congenial, hospitable and generous. It is a joy to be in their presence (to hear them speak!) and they really are the reason why I loved Argentina so much.
The window shopping is amazing. I tried on dozens of shoes at Comme Il Faut. It is the tiniest little boutique tango-shoe shop, all handmade in leather and fine suede. I felt like Carrie from SATC trying on these beautiful, dainty shoes in every possible shape and colour. I bought Mom a pair in gold and pink for her dancing bliss. =) The shoes in BsAs are just to die for! I bought the HIGHEST heels I’ve ever owned – grey leather platform peep toes five inches high! I have no idea when and where I’m going to wear them but the people at the shop did such a great job convincing me of how good they looked! I also got a pair of gorgeous equestrian boots – in the softest shiniest leather. The craftsmanship of the sole is top notch. They are so pretty that I’m afraid to wear them. Everything in BsAs is pretty. Pretty, pretty pretty. Wherein Paris is sophisticated and London professional, Buenos Aires fashion and merchandise is just plain beautiful!
Mom and I were also treated to a day trip to Iguazu Falls. DO NOT MISS THIS PLACE. If you have only a few days in BsAs and are toying with doing a day trip, go to Iguacu. It is amazing. It has the largest set of cataratas (English translation: waterfalls) in the world! It’s humid and jungle-like and just beautiful. Our guide, Ismael, was the best. He spent the whole day with us and was very patient in teaching me Spanish. =) He’s the son of Brazilian farmers, just got married at 24 years old, plays the guitar, sings in a band and has the manners of a true gentleman. Mom adored him. He was so wide-eyed and innocent, this Ismael! We plan on using him again to tour us around Brazil!!! During the trip, I saw a toucan and was nearly attacked by the world’s only poisonous bird! We also got a glimpse of the world’s largest rat (gross!). =) Just amazing!
Some of the other great things that we saw: Evita’s tomb at the Recoleta Cemetary, the Floralis Generica (“the flower”), the antique market in San Telmo, colourful La Boca and my favourite – Palermo (where all the gorgeous boutique shops are)! I also decided that I like salsa, samba and forro dancing more than I do tango but tango is really fun to watch when there are professionals involved! Oh, and we also ate the heart muscle of a cow! Yum! And the wine! Why haven’t I not mentioned the wine yet? Malbec is fabulous. We had wine every night and because we bought so much to bring back with us, Mom had to purchase an extra suitcase!
I’m sure I’ll have more great BsAs stories to tell. You’ll get a report sometime in the next 10-12 months saying I’ve moved there for a quarter to do absolutely nothing but learn beautiful Spanish, dance beautiful dances, meet beautiful people and eat amazing amazing food! Life is too short to be counting vacation days anyway!
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Hi there! I'm Denise. I share my name with Dionysia, the Greek god of wine, pleasure and joy. I'm a photographer, writer, marketer vagabond. I take photographs of enchanted places and the people seduced by them. This blog is an account of the wisdom, joy and grace that I've encountered along the way, and a place where I showcase some of my favourite photographs.
If you have similar stories to share, have questions about purchasing prints or just want to say hello, I'd love to hear from you!
