The Show Must Go On....

The other night The Force and I had tickets to the opera, to see Katia Kabanova.  The Teatro Colon after closing for a three year renovation has recently re-opened.  It was going to be our first night at the theatre since the renovation, my first opera ever and it was my birthday.  We splurged for the good seats or as they say in Argentina - la platea.

I met The Force at the office and we strolled in the early spring evening to the theatre, arriving at ten to eight a few minutes before they were supposed to open the doors.  We stood in the grand lobby and marvelled at the enormous space before us, reminiscent of a Parisian opera house.

At eight ten, we were still waiting.  I asked when the show was starting and we were told eight thirty.  So we decided to see if we could find a seat in the Colon cafe.  There was an abandoned table and we sat down.  The waitress cleared the table and walked away.  Twenty minutes later, when she hadn't returned, we gave up on the idea of a pre-opera cocktail.  At least we had a seat. The crowd still wasn't moving anywhere.

We finally made our way back to the front lobby at eight forty and proceeded to wait.  The sinking feeling began. Ten minutes later (an hour after we'd arrived) a theatre official stood at the top of the grand staircase and called down...."el esenario esta tomando por...." and the shouts started.  The stage was taken by the labour union who was blocking the show.  It was cancelled.

The Force called, "And we're out...." We turned heel and left.

The sad part was they only announced the cancellation to la platea.  They didn't bother to tell the lower priced ticket holders. As we made our way back out into the main crowd, people gathered around us asking us if we knew anything, and we had to spread the word that the show was cancelled.  Luckily we slipped out before the outrage began.

Making the best of it, we hopped in a taxi to Puerto Madero and had the best Chinese food I've eaten since arriving in Argentina.   I was wearing my birthday dress that The Force brought back from a recent trip to Hong Kong and felt right at home.  We toasted the unions with a chuckle, and tucked into dumplings, sweet and sour fish and fried rice...and we had a great night.  It was a rare Tuesday night treat to be all dressed up, with no place to go.

 As for whether we'll get our money back; I'm not holding my breath.

Whoever coined the phrase, "The show must go on...." obviously never came up against an Argentine labour union.

Once Upon a Time #3 - Jungle Jane and the Glamourous Baby

Many years ago when we were living in Malaysia, The Glamourous Baby and I (yes she was Glamourous even then…) travelled with the Force to a conference in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah. 

The trip itself was not particularly remarkable.  The beach, while beautiful looking, was full of sand flies. So the hotel patrons clung around the pool for fear of ending up with a body covered in welts. The Glamourous Baby was crawling at full speed and I spent most of the trip chasing after her in the hotel room.  That was the beginning of her love affair with mini-bars and hotel telephones.

But even with the mini-bar obsession, it was refreshing to have a change of scenery for a few days.  We were living in a small town in Sarawak province at the time, and distractions were few and far between.   In the words of a slightly older Glamourous Girl, “Nice to get out…nice to get out!”

The highlight of the trip came when I realized that the resort supported and protected a swath of rain forest close by.  And in the rain forest they were rehabilitating three young organ utans – two males and a female.  For one hour a day hotel guests could sign up to hike out into the jungle to a viewing platform where park rangers brought food.  The orang utans would come, if they wanted to.  The idea behind the project was that eventually they would not return and would live in the jungle permanently.  But in the interim there was daily support provided to them.

The Glamourous Girl and I set out.  I had not brought the baby backpack with me, so I went with my ultra light Graco stroller. With its handy shoulder strap, I folded it up and slung it over my back, along with my camera. In front I carried my precious baby girl.

We hiked a short distance, about a kilometre to the platform.  As we approached I noticed something coming down the trail in the opposite direction.  It was an organ utan, one of the males!  We had been given strict instructions beforehand to talk in a low voice and never to approach them. 

I could feel my heart quicken as this magnificent animal came near to us.  And then as he passed me, he stopped.  I stopped.  He stood and looked at me, and at the Glamourous Girl, and our stroller.  It was bright red.  He reached up and stroked the fabric and just stood there.  It was as though he was complementing it.  He approved of my choice.  I'm sure of that.  

I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine. They were so human, more human than you can imagine – brown and liquid and beautiful. 

And with that he turned heel, and kept walking. He moved on, in search of his daily fruit rations. The Glamourous Baby and I carried onto the platform where I unfolded the stroller to give her a seat.  I spent the hour happily snapping photos, while she munched on Cheerios and the adolescent orang utan on papayas. 

The hour was good, but those ten seconds were great.  And I guess that’s the way life goes.  Sometimes the big moments happen before you are ready.  

Tigre...A Day in the Delta

On Sunday The Force was travelling.  We've learned in the past that getting out on a Sunday when we are alone is good, for everyone.  Otherwise by mid-afternoon we are all cranky and picking at one another. By the end of the day something as simple as sharing pencil crayons ends in a meltdown.

So we decided to take the Tren de la Costa along the Rio de la Plata to Tigre.  We drove to "Bike and Coffee" (a local cafe on the train line) and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in spring like weather.  They have the best multi grain toast in Buenos Aires.  Topped with casencrem (a type of local cream cheese) and strawberry jam, it's delicious. Washed down with a very good cafe con leche and it's a fine start to the day.

The train takes about half an hour to arrive at the final stop in Tigre.  The Earnest Boy could ride the rails all day long.   For him getting there is most of the fun.  From the station we made our way on foot to the weekend Puerto de las Frutas.  It was the original fruit port but now it's now a tourist attraction with the usual assortment of goods.

We were looking for wicker baskets to store toys. With baskets on hold at "The House of Wicker" The Glamourous Girl noticed a boat tour company.  The next tour was leaving in fifteen minutes.  It cost six dollars, and anyone under nine was free - a fantastic value for money.  The Earnest Boy started to cry as soon as he heard the word boat.  He still remembers getting sick last year on the whale watching boat as we bobbed around in the ocean.  After a pep talk and stocking up on provisions (water, biscuits and candies) he decided he was up for the challenge.

We spent an hour touring around the Delta which reminded me immensely of Louisiana.  Murky water and reeds and rundown cabins somehow lend to the ambience in the endless canals and waterways.  Out there everything happens on the water.  There are floating grocery stores and water delivery and of course water taxis.  

The kids loved getting bobbed around and I kept the Earnest Boy plied with enough cookies to keep any seasickness at bay.

After we returned to the dock we set out for lunch.  I fancied meat as I could smell parilla all around me, but the kids wanted pizza so we sat down at one of the many restaurants and they munched on thick slices, while I picked at a plate of risotto.  In retrospect I should have held out for a choripan.

The crowds were thickening.  We'd had enough.  We gathered up our toy baskets and made the trip home on the train.  The sun was shining.  It was a good day.

Happy Spring! You are here again!

A day in BA....

On Wednesday at three o'clock we received notice that Friday would be a national school holiday.  September 11th is Teacher's Day in Argentina which falls on a Saturday this year.  This obviously wasn't picked up by the upper ranks until this week when they made a very last minute decision to change the school calendar, for the whole country!  So everyone including the school scrambled, canceling events at the last minute.  Both of the kids cried; it was meant to be pyjama day....

So we woke up today, Friday, and enjoyed a leisurely morning.  A morning in pj's is a good thing...we made banana muffins and hot chocolate.  The kids watched Harry Potter, their newest movie. We just finished reading the first book at bed time and watching the movie is a novelty.  Part way through the film I noticed a stray cat in our back yard and went to shoo it away. The last stray cat brought a flea infestation to our house.

The patio was slick with morning dew and I fell down hard.  Had I been able to watch the replay I'm sure that my entire body levitated momentarily and then came down with a crushing blow.  For several minutes I didn't move, trying to access the damage.  My back felt alright, but I landed hard on my left side - hip, shoulder and hand all throbbing.  I finally managed to get myself upright, and completely soaked I limped inside to see the kids entirely engrossed in Mr. Potter.

Sitting five feet away they didn't notice me laying on the patio flat out for five minutes?!  How long would it take them to find me?  I don't want think about it.  They didn't noticed when I limped inside either.  I finally announced that I had fallen down, hard.  Still nothing.  Eight years of dedication and I can't even get them to turn their heads when I've possibly broken my hand.  Not a high self esteem moment....but I guess who can compete with Hogwarts?

After an hour of limping around I realized that nothing was broken, although I'm sure a good bruise or two will appear in the morning.  As our housekeeper had arrived, I decided to leave my less than sensitive off spring at home and go exercise.  I may as well add insult to injury.

Not only was I going to exercise, I was trying my first spinning class, ever.  Having lived in many different outposts when spinning came into fashion, I felt that I had missed the boat.  But because of the holiday I had missed my regular early morning class. It was spinning or bust.

The fact that we were brought towels before the class started made me nervous. People looked quite serious around the room and I started to sweat. The instructor began and yelled motivational advice to us in Spanish.  I'm not sure exactly what I was supposed to do, other than go like stink for 50 minutes.  People may have been making changes to their routines but to me it just looked like fast, and faster.   By the end I was tired and sweating and I loved it.  I would have never pushed myself that hard on any machine on my own.  I need to be part of the herd...

After class I ran errands and went home to feed the kids lunch who by now were asking if I was okay....a little late, but I'll take it.  After a quick shower we were off to our local bowling alley.  The Glamourous Girl and The Earnest Boy love absolutely bowling with their friends.  Our local alley has bright balls, fun music and they pull up the gutters to make it a fair game.  It's one of their favourite outings.

Their friends came back for an afternoon play, which led into Friday afternoon piano lessons, a relatively new import into the schedule but certainly a welcome addition.  In the meantime I whizzed around the kitchen making roast chicken and strawberry smoothies...dinner was served.  We read another chapter of Harry Potter and they crawled into bed.

The day is done.  The week is over.  Kids are tucked in. The evening is mine...a glass of champagne, pyjamas and TV are calling my name.  Life is good.

The only question is, will I be able to stand up in the morning?

La Santa Rosa....

Somehow after five years in Argentina the story of the storm of Santa Rosa has escaped me.

According to local Argentines spring can't arrive in Buenos Aires until the storm of Santa Rosa blows through from Antarctica.  She tends to do this about the beginning of September. And while the name Saint Rose sounds so innocent I can assure you she is not. Santa Rosa is known for her rain and her winds. She is one gusty gal.  The storm is said to go on for a week and once it dissipates, spring can bloom.

I have always known that late August/early September is my least favourite time of the year in Buenos Aires.  Blue skies turn dark and the dry crisp days of April and May (and even June) have long turned wet and soggy.

And so I sit here at home listening to the windows rattling and shaking and the rain blowing sideways.  I know from experience that within the next few weeks spring will start to peak it's head around the corner and I'll see the azaleas bloom in their vibrant fuchsia. Flip flops and t-shirts will call my name. But for the moment it's hard to imagine.  It's curl up in bed with a cup of tea and a good book weather.  Or as they would say in Louisiana, "it's gumbo weather..."  Mmmmm gumbo....

And so now we wait on Santa Rosa to finish with us, as I can say with confidence that we are finished with her.   However I'm not holding my breathe, as this gal is kind of a bitch...