Sunday, October 28, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Sin palabras
Un domingo tranquilo para descansar y disfrutar el calor primaveral ... Entonces que hacer ???
Primero moverse de la cama ...
Tomar unos mates y ponerse la ropa más cómoda , zapatillas y a Pasear...
Tomo el colectivo 60 hasta las Heras y Uriburu ( me acuerdo de esa calle porque por ahí tenía un alumno de esos que no se olvidan), tomo dirección al cementerio Recoleta y que veo ??? gente reunida, aplaudiendo, sonriendo... Seguro no es una convocatoria política o una protesta porque la gente está realmente feliz... rie con el Alma, como decimos acá o aquí (duda existencial de mis alumnos)
Sí, el humor, que todo lo puede, hace brillar más el sol de esta tarde porteña...
Este humor sin palabras, el humor de los gestos, de las miradas, del cuerpo....
Este personaje, como no habla... no tiene nombre, tiene un cuerpo alto, largo, colorido con la predominancia del naranja y las franjas genera una enternecedora manifestación de sonrisas complices, puras, amenas...
Entonces veo que corta el transito, desafia a los colectivos, los taxis,a los autos a todos roba una sonrisa , los entretiene...
Como un libro magistral que nos atrapa entre sus hojas entre su drama, cual El Quijote de la Mancha, el libro de las odiseas de un loco bueno que nos trae hasta el presente la magnificencia de la lengua Española, este personaje especial cual un Quijote moderno, desvaria y nos hace soñar y nos saca muy de adentro ese niño de siempre, el inocente que rie sin miedos e imaginate que es el "Yo" interior que acomete cual asaña el desafio casi imposible de estos tiempos que es Hacer reir a la gente...
Se mueve, salta, besa, sueña, se enoja, viene, va, bromea, crea, improvisa, se cansa, descansa y de nuevo otra vez...
Piensa, duda, baila, ama, odia, pelea, se reconcilia, todo en un par de minutos, y lo muestra todo con su cuerpo, con su alma...
Se comunica, expresa, exterioriza lo que nosotros esos niños ya grandes nos negamos dejar salir por miedo, por vergüenza, por el "Que dirán ???", por tantas cosas....
Aprendamos entonces, por lo menos el Domingo a ponernos las zapatillas y la cara de turistas ... Y a recorrer la ciudad, a verla con cara de niños , a dejarnos llevar y si es posible como este mimo arrancar sonrisas a la gente al pasar a nuestro lado.... Que eso, eso es gratis o por monedas también...
Primero moverse de la cama ...
Tomar unos mates y ponerse la ropa más cómoda , zapatillas y a Pasear...
Tomo el colectivo 60 hasta las Heras y Uriburu ( me acuerdo de esa calle porque por ahí tenía un alumno de esos que no se olvidan), tomo dirección al cementerio Recoleta y que veo ??? gente reunida, aplaudiendo, sonriendo... Seguro no es una convocatoria política o una protesta porque la gente está realmente feliz... rie con el Alma, como decimos acá o aquí (duda existencial de mis alumnos)Sí, el humor, que todo lo puede, hace brillar más el sol de esta tarde porteña...
Este humor sin palabras, el humor de los gestos, de las miradas, del cuerpo....
Este personaje, como no habla... no tiene nombre, tiene un cuerpo alto, largo, colorido con la predominancia del naranja y las franjas genera una enternecedora manifestación de sonrisas complices, puras, amenas...
Entonces veo que corta el transito, desafia a los colectivos, los taxis,a los autos a todos roba una sonrisa , los entretiene...
Como un libro magistral que nos atrapa entre sus hojas entre su drama, cual El Quijote de la Mancha, el libro de las odiseas de un loco bueno que nos trae hasta el presente la magnificencia de la lengua Española, este personaje especial cual un Quijote moderno, desvaria y nos hace soñar y nos saca muy de adentro ese niño de siempre, el inocente que rie sin miedos e imaginate que es el "Yo" interior que acomete cual asaña el desafio casi imposible de estos tiempos que es Hacer reir a la gente...
Se mueve, salta, besa, sueña, se enoja, viene, va, bromea, crea, improvisa, se cansa, descansa y de nuevo otra vez...
Piensa, duda, baila, ama, odia, pelea, se reconcilia, todo en un par de minutos, y lo muestra todo con su cuerpo, con su alma...
Se comunica, expresa, exterioriza lo que nosotros esos niños ya grandes nos negamos dejar salir por miedo, por vergüenza, por el "Que dirán ???", por tantas cosas....
Aprendamos entonces, por lo menos el Domingo a ponernos las zapatillas y la cara de turistas ... Y a recorrer la ciudad, a verla con cara de niños , a dejarnos llevar y si es posible como este mimo arrancar sonrisas a la gente al pasar a nuestro lado.... Que eso, eso es gratis o por monedas también...
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Getting lost... again !!!
By Jamie Gross
I had planned to start out by doing the self-guided walking tour suggested in a famous guide. I got off at Plaza Italia and first went to the Jardin Botanico Carlos Thays. I am usually someone who finds gardens boring, but I loved this one. It just had this foresty feel and Alice in Wonderland experience if that makes sense (probably not!). There were tons of stray cats in this place. Thing is, these cats are happy and fat! I had a good time here and continued my journey walking around Palermo.
I walked to the entrance of Jardin Zoologico just to see what it all was about. I am not someone who supports zoos or places that take animals out of their natural environment placing them in captivity. Needless to say, I did not go inside. I walked around it to try to find Palermo Chico. Took a right instead of a left, and got lost.
I continued my journey on walking to find Malba which I kept saying to myself was pronounced “Melba” *. Did I get lost? You bet I did! I saw this huge thing like looked like a giant silver golf ball (or the thing at Epcot Center in Orlando) so I assumed it had to be Malba. Ended up being the Planetarium…
On the way to Malba, I saw these gorgeous geese and ducks that I have never seen before in my life in this pond! These geese were fricken big! I handfed them some of my zone bar. I hope the rule of chocolate that applies for dogs, does not apply for birds. I know it sounds kind of corny to say this, but there is almost a magical feeling when such a large and busy city has a calming and relaxes sense of atmosphere such as this. Remind me of Hyde Park in London and of Lake Shrine in Pacific Palisades.
I Found Malba. Thought it was going to be this really big museum almost like the Met in New York. I think it has two stories? I walked through in about 25 minutes. Saw some pieces of art I loved and I am not really an art lover. I took a picture of this bizarre painting/sculpture. I got yelled out. I didn’t know that no photos were allowed. I went downstairs to head out and saw this gigantic photograph of this man sitting down almost in a meditating state with a levitating pancake! Was about to take a photo (it wasn’t a painting!) and another security guard yelled at me. Went to the gift shop to see if I could purchase a postcard or poster of that photograph, and the worker said people always ask about that photograph, but that they did not have anything with a reproduction...
I had planned to start out by doing the self-guided walking tour suggested in a famous guide. I got off at Plaza Italia and first went to the Jardin Botanico Carlos Thays. I am usually someone who finds gardens boring, but I loved this one. It just had this foresty feel and Alice in Wonderland experience if that makes sense (probably not!). There were tons of stray cats in this place. Thing is, these cats are happy and fat! I had a good time here and continued my journey walking around Palermo.
I walked to the entrance of Jardin Zoologico just to see what it all was about. I am not someone who supports zoos or places that take animals out of their natural environment placing them in captivity. Needless to say, I did not go inside. I walked around it to try to find Palermo Chico. Took a right instead of a left, and got lost.
I continued my journey on walking to find Malba which I kept saying to myself was pronounced “Melba” *. Did I get lost? You bet I did! I saw this huge thing like looked like a giant silver golf ball (or the thing at Epcot Center in Orlando) so I assumed it had to be Malba. Ended up being the Planetarium…
On the way to Malba, I saw these gorgeous geese and ducks that I have never seen before in my life in this pond! These geese were fricken big! I handfed them some of my zone bar. I hope the rule of chocolate that applies for dogs, does not apply for birds. I know it sounds kind of corny to say this, but there is almost a magical feeling when such a large and busy city has a calming and relaxes sense of atmosphere such as this. Remind me of Hyde Park in London and of Lake Shrine in Pacific Palisades.
I Found Malba. Thought it was going to be this really big museum almost like the Met in New York. I think it has two stories? I walked through in about 25 minutes. Saw some pieces of art I loved and I am not really an art lover. I took a picture of this bizarre painting/sculpture. I got yelled out. I didn’t know that no photos were allowed. I went downstairs to head out and saw this gigantic photograph of this man sitting down almost in a meditating state with a levitating pancake! Was about to take a photo (it wasn’t a painting!) and another security guard yelled at me. Went to the gift shop to see if I could purchase a postcard or poster of that photograph, and the worker said people always ask about that photograph, but that they did not have anything with a reproduction...
Jardín Botánico "Carlos Thays": 3951 Santa Fe Ave. # 54- (0) 11- 4831 4527
Planetarium: Sarmiento and Figueroa Alcorta Ave. # 54- (0) 11- 4771-9393 / 4771-6629
MALBA : 3415 Figueroa Alcorta Ave. # 54-(0)11- 4808-6500
MALBA : 3415 Figueroa Alcorta Ave. # 54-(0)11- 4808-6500
*Melba: famous chocolate cookies in Argentina
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
The two lives of Malbec
By Jennifer Chotzi Rosen
Jennifer is the author of, “Waiter, There’s a Horse in My Wine”, and “The Cork Jester's Guide to Wine” http://www.corkjester.com
At the age of twelve, I did something all embarrassed preteens dream about and few outside the witness protection program ever get a chance at: I reinvented myself. Fed up with my shoddy grades, my mother uprooted me from my uniformed girls’ academy—the kind of place where your status was a coefficient of dodge-ball throwing velocity and midterm math grades—and sent me off to a sort of new-wave experiment in learning where you went around in bare feet and called your teacher Bob. Unless, of course, his name was Sally.
It was the best thing that ever happened to me. Along with the enchanting and terrifying presence of boys, came the beauty of starting with a clean slate. No longer was I the loner who slept through math and found diagramming sentences a complete waste of time. Transplanted, I became a popular, vivacious biology whiz, admired by all for my ability to map out a phrase in Latin or English. I had found my people.
All of you who long to pull into the pit stop of life and have your reputation rotated: your vinous patron saint is Malbec.
Malbec is a grape with a second-rate role in Europe. In Bordeaux it’s a blender, little more than Viagra for flaccid reds. Its main home is further south, the region of Cahors. (Keep the S silent and pronounce the H like you’re receiving the Heimlich maneuver)
In medieval times, Malbec was cooked into a syrupy-concentrate they called Black Wine. For a brief burst of 1850s glory, Cahors counted 140,000 acres of Malbec and was getting almost as important as Bordeaux. But then came the root-louse phylloxera, munching its way through Europe like Pac-Man, and when the dust settled, Bordeaux had its act together while Cahors was still reeling.
Further demoralized by freak frosts in 1956 that killed another mass of vines, Cahors nevertheless became an official AOC appellation in 1971, one that requires 70 percent Malbec grapes, with Merlot and Tannat making up the balance.
Except at tip-top levels, Cahors isn’t very good. Thin-skinned and sensitive, Malbec longs for heat and sun, and craves well-irrigated, well-drained soil. Without these conditions, it’s extremely susceptible to frost damage, downy mildew, bunch rot and other nuisances. You’d be cranky, too.
Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, Malbec cuttings had been smuggled to Argentina in 1868. The pure air and high altitude of Mendoza lets in intense sunlight. Hot days, cool nights and long growing seasons build complexity.
Malbec took one look and knew it was home. Because here’s the thing: Cabernet, Merlot and the rest of that gang all come from a common ancestor. Malbec is genetically different. It has a Latin soul. With a little encouragement it will lie on the beach with its shirt off, whisper poetry in your ear, kiss with
passion and tango till dawn.
In Argentina, thanks to both mutation and climate differences, Malbec is rich and complex, with luxuriously smooth tannins and ripeness Europe can only dream about. Vivid plum and raspberry aromas give way to a darker edge of licorice, coffee, chocolate and leather. Joyful to drink now, it also ages gracefully for decades.
Then there’s the price. An acre of Argentine vineyard costs a fraction of its French and California counterparts. Labor
there is cheap and plentiful. So while a decent Cahors can set you back $70, the same amount buys you ten terrific bottles from Mendoza, where even the cheap stuff is good.
France has noticed. A top Cahors producer just successfully lobbied to allow the word “Malbec” on his labels, giving a former nobody grape star billing over an appellation that even the French don’t much understand.
Why, given all the grapes available, do the French continue to torture Malbec? It seems to come down to that Frenchest of reasons: “But…we have always done it this way!”
In contrast to the dashing Latin lover in Argentina, the top Malbec in Cahors marches along with austere, tannic purpose, humming mineral notes of iron, hot stones and tar, doing its buttoned-down best to be like Bordeaux. Most of it goes to Canada, Germany, Britain and Japan, who probably never had a Latin lover, anyway.
If you haven’t either, it’s time you spent the evening with an Argentine Malbec. And for some real fun while you sip, there’s nothing quite like diagramming a sentence.
Jennifer is the author of, “Waiter, There’s a Horse in My Wine”, and “The Cork Jester's Guide to Wine” http://www.corkjester.com
At the age of twelve, I did something all embarrassed preteens dream about and few outside the witness protection program ever get a chance at: I reinvented myself. Fed up with my shoddy grades, my mother uprooted me from my uniformed girls’ academy—the kind of place where your status was a coefficient of dodge-ball throwing velocity and midterm math grades—and sent me off to a sort of new-wave experiment in learning where you went around in bare feet and called your teacher Bob. Unless, of course, his name was Sally.
It was the best thing that ever happened to me. Along with the enchanting and terrifying presence of boys, came the beauty of starting with a clean slate. No longer was I the loner who slept through math and found diagramming sentences a complete waste of time. Transplanted, I became a popular, vivacious biology whiz, admired by all for my ability to map out a phrase in Latin or English. I had found my people.
All of you who long to pull into the pit stop of life and have your reputation rotated: your vinous patron saint is Malbec.
Malbec is a grape with a second-rate role in Europe. In Bordeaux it’s a blender, little more than Viagra for flaccid reds. Its main home is further south, the region of Cahors. (Keep the S silent and pronounce the H like you’re receiving the Heimlich maneuver)
In medieval times, Malbec was cooked into a syrupy-concentrate they called Black Wine. For a brief burst of 1850s glory, Cahors counted 140,000 acres of Malbec and was getting almost as important as Bordeaux. But then came the root-louse phylloxera, munching its way through Europe like Pac-Man, and when the dust settled, Bordeaux had its act together while Cahors was still reeling.
Further demoralized by freak frosts in 1956 that killed another mass of vines, Cahors nevertheless became an official AOC appellation in 1971, one that requires 70 percent Malbec grapes, with Merlot and Tannat making up the balance.
Except at tip-top levels, Cahors isn’t very good. Thin-skinned and sensitive, Malbec longs for heat and sun, and craves well-irrigated, well-drained soil. Without these conditions, it’s extremely susceptible to frost damage, downy mildew, bunch rot and other nuisances. You’d be cranky, too.
Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, Malbec cuttings had been smuggled to Argentina in 1868. The pure air and high altitude of Mendoza lets in intense sunlight. Hot days, cool nights and long growing seasons build complexity.
Malbec took one look and knew it was home. Because here’s the thing: Cabernet, Merlot and the rest of that gang all come from a common ancestor. Malbec is genetically different. It has a Latin soul. With a little encouragement it will lie on the beach with its shirt off, whisper poetry in your ear, kiss with
passion and tango till dawn.
In Argentina, thanks to both mutation and climate differences, Malbec is rich and complex, with luxuriously smooth tannins and ripeness Europe can only dream about. Vivid plum and raspberry aromas give way to a darker edge of licorice, coffee, chocolate and leather. Joyful to drink now, it also ages gracefully for decades.
Then there’s the price. An acre of Argentine vineyard costs a fraction of its French and California counterparts. Labor
there is cheap and plentiful. So while a decent Cahors can set you back $70, the same amount buys you ten terrific bottles from Mendoza, where even the cheap stuff is good.
France has noticed. A top Cahors producer just successfully lobbied to allow the word “Malbec” on his labels, giving a former nobody grape star billing over an appellation that even the French don’t much understand.
Why, given all the grapes available, do the French continue to torture Malbec? It seems to come down to that Frenchest of reasons: “But…we have always done it this way!”
In contrast to the dashing Latin lover in Argentina, the top Malbec in Cahors marches along with austere, tannic purpose, humming mineral notes of iron, hot stones and tar, doing its buttoned-down best to be like Bordeaux. Most of it goes to Canada, Germany, Britain and Japan, who probably never had a Latin lover, anyway.
If you haven’t either, it’s time you spent the evening with an Argentine Malbec. And for some real fun while you sip, there’s nothing quite like diagramming a sentence.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Miracle of Salta
By Macacha, Hola-yosoy@argentina.com
The Province of Salta is situated in the Northwest of Argentina and it borders three countries:Chile , Bolivia and Paraguay , and six Argentinian provinces:Jujuy , Formosa , Chaco, Santiago del Estero , Tucumán and Catamarca.
Salta is known as "La linda" (the Beautiful One), is the capital. Salta is known for the nice and quite character of salteños, the hispanic architecture (single- storey houses, narrow streets and pavements). Salta's traditional hospitality and provincial cordiality blend with its great cultural richness.
The History said it was founded in 1582 as San Felipe de Lerma by Hernando de Lerma, governor of Tucumán. Since 1692, when severe earthquakes hitted the city and disapper the nearly city:Esteco. The earthquakes and tremors recurred in 1844 and 1948 the Lord of Miracle and Virgin Mary have been taken out on procession on September 15 every year.
We will make you feel at home!!!Salta is famous for its gauchos, folk music and many renowned artists were born there and sing its praises in typical “zambas” and “chacareras”.Salteñan cuisine is varied and multi-coloured. Visitors can taste traditional “empanadas”, “locro” and “humitas”.
Useful Regional vocabulary:
Macha: drunkenness
Cuchi: pork
Guagua: baby
HACEME PATA: come with me
Chango: boy
China: girl
Meta: hurry
Chinela: flipflop
Existen tres palabras fundamentales que usted debe saber sí o sí: COSO, COMUÉ Y COMO-SE-LLAMA.
Por ejemplo si usted necesita comprar para su coche la correa del ventilador del aire acondicionado, diga así: "Véndame el coso ese que va agarrado al comué del como-se-llama". (Usted no se preocupe, le van a entender perfectamente).
Otra acepción idiomática salteña es el "se me lo". Se usa frecuente en expresiones tan cotidianas como: Uy! Se me lo pasó el coletivo!!!;ó "Se me lo a caió al piso"; o bien "Se me loa roto". No trate de decir la expresión de modo correcto; no lo comprenderían...
Sponsored by: www.2mun2viajes.com.ar
Avda. Corrientes 1922 Piso 6º “63” C.A.B.A. (C1045AAO) Tel/fax (5411)4115-0198 ar@2mun2viajes.com.ar
The Province of Salta is situated in the Northwest of Argentina and it borders three countries:Chile , Bolivia and Paraguay , and six Argentinian provinces:Jujuy , Formosa , Chaco, Santiago del Estero , Tucumán and Catamarca.
Salta is known as "La linda" (the Beautiful One), is the capital. Salta is known for the nice and quite character of salteños, the hispanic architecture (single- storey houses, narrow streets and pavements). Salta's traditional hospitality and provincial cordiality blend with its great cultural richness.
The History said it was founded in 1582 as San Felipe de Lerma by Hernando de Lerma, governor of Tucumán. Since 1692, when severe earthquakes hitted the city and disapper the nearly city:Esteco. The earthquakes and tremors recurred in 1844 and 1948 the Lord of Miracle and Virgin Mary have been taken out on procession on September 15 every year.
We will make you feel at home!!!Salta is famous for its gauchos, folk music and many renowned artists were born there and sing its praises in typical “zambas” and “chacareras”.Salteñan cuisine is varied and multi-coloured. Visitors can taste traditional “empanadas”, “locro” and “humitas”.
Useful Regional vocabulary:
Macha: drunkenness
Cuchi: pork
Guagua: baby
HACEME PATA: come with me
Chango: boy
China: girl
Meta: hurry
Chinela: flipflop
Existen tres palabras fundamentales que usted debe saber sí o sí: COSO, COMUÉ Y COMO-SE-LLAMA.
Por ejemplo si usted necesita comprar para su coche la correa del ventilador del aire acondicionado, diga así: "Véndame el coso ese que va agarrado al comué del como-se-llama". (Usted no se preocupe, le van a entender perfectamente).
Otra acepción idiomática salteña es el "se me lo". Se usa frecuente en expresiones tan cotidianas como: Uy! Se me lo pasó el coletivo!!!;ó "Se me lo a caió al piso"; o bien "Se me loa roto". No trate de decir la expresión de modo correcto; no lo comprenderían...
Sponsored by: www.2mun2viajes.com.ar
Avda. Corrientes 1922 Piso 6º “63” C.A.B.A. (C1045AAO) Tel/fax (5411)4115-0198 ar@2mun2viajes.com.ar
Getting lost in Buenos Aires
By Jamie gross (chatsworth,ca, usa)
By Jamie gross (chatsworth,ca, usa)
I will try to give a report of my trip to Buenos Aires. Well I got into BA after a 10 hour and 35 minute flight leaving Dallas. Customs was a breeze. Took maybe 10 minutes at the most. Out, I went in search of a taxi, for 68 pesos they took me to Recoleta. The ride took maybe 40 minutes to get there.
Got to an apartment and is costing me less than 37 USD a day. It’s a tiny studio though but I have internet connection in my room which helps a nerdy person like me.
After I got settled in, I walked to find a supermarket and place that I could get my calling card. Going to the supermarket here is an experience! At big supermarkets, the lines here do not move, there are a million old ladies and moms on it, and they have a ton of stuff in their carts! I had a few items, but got sick of waiting and had to use the bathroom. I quickly took my cart to an aisle no one would look for, and got out to escape the craziness.
I then went to find a pharmacy to buy a calling card to call the US. Got a card for 10 pesos which is for 0.16 pesos per minute.
Then men in BA look as dark and handsome as I thought they would be. When the worker from the agency came to the apartment for me to pay him, they did the side kiss thing!
The women here overall look like me and I blend in well. I have dark hair, light eyes, and fair skin, and have been told I look very Argentinian before a few times. I thought people here would dress more fancy than people in the US. I had heard that said before. They dress pretty much the same as people in America.
I started off the second day going to the supermarket for a few groceries. Got a few things like apples, bananas, orange juice, muffins, water, and this vegetable empanada. Let me tell you about these muffins. They are heavenly! I got these vanilla muffins where you get 6 fresh ones for $2.44 USD. I have a belief that getting lost in a new town or city is a good thing it helps you to get to know a place better but I got lost just trying to find the damn subway stop for Callao not realizing there are two Callao stops. When I got on the subway till the end, everyone got off. I realized it was going south when I wanted north (or the opposite, I don’t remember) when this nice and pretty blonde told me in perfect English that you have to transfer and that the line altogether ends or some thing like that ...
Note:Subway cost $ 0,70 (U$S 0,20) the net links the most important spots.
Introduccion
Esta es la segunda edicion de "The passenger News"(revista GRATIS para estudiantes de idioma Español y turistas en Argentina) , se puede ver e imprimir desde http://thepassengernews.tripod.com/, Esta edición contiene: vino Malbec, información turística sobre Salta y Ejercicios en tiempo pasado. Este es un magazine que marca tendencia en Buenos Aires. Comentarios, sugerencias, ideas, y avisos son bienvenidos.This is the second edition of "The passenger News"(FREE magazine for Spanish language students and travelers in Argentina) . It's possible to read and print at http://thepassengernews.tripod.com/. this edition contains turism information about Salta and Past tense. Comments, suggestions, ideas, and adds are welcome.
Thepassengernews@argentina.com
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