Okay! I get it, everyone here considers every aspect of design. They breathe minimalism! I’m jealous! Also, the show at 21-21 Design_Sight (I’m standing in front of it) in Roppongi Hills was pretty clever. Once again, I would have been more clued in with some working knowledge of Japanese.
Our first day and train ride in Tokyo was confusing, to say the least. Should not have stopped the Japanese classes back in 1987. We actually managed to get where we needed to go, with some luck and good intentions from passersby. Though many bristled initially upon contact, everyone eventually went out of their way to help.
I was struck by the flag frenzy and communist pride all over Vietnam. Coupled with the pure capitalist hunger I felt from North to South, I was confused about which philosophical ideal was really embraced in this country. One thing I was not confused by—war guilt. The Vietnam War is called the American War here, and the Vietnamese perspective is pretty raw. They’ve overcome a lot in a short time, and who am I to begrudge a little national pride with flags? But what’s with the hammer and sickle? Nostalgia or wishful thinking?
Our guide, Duc, shows us some dry puppets for sale. The water puppet show was pretty amazing after we got over the feeling that we were sitting in a high school auditorium. It was nice to have some air conditioning in that relentless heat. I’d like to add that the show was unique in a good way.
As Buenos Aires geared up to celebrate the Bicentinario (200 years of independence), we were excited to see some street productions. We heard some kids were going to do a song and dance about the country’s history, and were shocked to see about a quarter of all the children donning blackface and dressed in plantation rags. ¿Que pasó?
Aside from tourists and recent immigration from Africa, Porteños have had little or no experience with actual black people. So I guess no one told them that blackface might be more than a little insensitive. This explanation isn’t exactly satisfying, but I think it’s plausible. So what happened to the Africans who were here initially? Slavery was abolished in 1840, and the freed black men were enlisted to fight a 15-year-war with Paraguay in 1865. These men were in the front lines, and killed in battle. Also, there was a yellow fever epidemic in 1871 that wiped out the rest of the population. The rich upper class left the area, but the poorer Italian, Spanish and African people stayed put and died. After all that, there were still Afro-Argentine women and children left. They inter-married with the Europeans, so there might be Argentines with African blood who don’t even know it.
A complicated history for sure. But I don’t think they were in costume to mock or deride. It seemed like this generation genuinely wanted to pay homage to the people who were here before, but their cultural sensitivity is low from having a relatively monolithic population. Clueless and well-meaning? That’s probably it.
Cuy is a eaten by Peruvians on special occasions, like when the entire family gets together. As travelers, we’ve read about it from Lonely Planet or something like that. After a quick discussion, we decided to try Cuy on our last night in Huancayo with the other volunteers (so it wouldn’t be wasted if we were grossed out). I thought I could do it, but almost cried when the sizzling platter came out. I could barely taste the tiny morsel I tried. On a side note, I had no problem eating a whole fish that was similarly splayed out on a platter with its head on.
Davidson says it tastes like chicken, and Andy puts its head in his mouth. Sigh.
We stumbled upon a street party on the walk home from Urpaycancha. The fiesta was on behalf of a first floor. In Huancayo, peeps gather when construction of the first floor is concrete (literally). Food, drink, band and lollipops are distributed, even to gawkers like us. How nice.
Alpaca yarn, made in the Andes. All-natural dyes like crushed leaves for green, chicha (purple corn) for purple, some strange worm larvae for red etc. Unfortch, they weren’t selling any balls of yarn—no gifts. There goes my fevered dream of being Princess Stitch ‘n’ Bitch. Nancy and Eric, I’m sure you’ll understand. Lo siento.
Our Spanish teacher always asks us if we want tea, coffee or mate before the lesson starts. I thought mate was tea, but have been informed that it is not. And am a fan because drinking mate is a communal ritual. Here’s how:
1. The cebador (person pouring) shakes out dust from dried mate leaves, and fills the gourd with ‘em. Then he/she gently nudges a bombilla (metal straw) through the leaves. The cebador pours hot water into the gourd.
2. The gourd is passed to a guest—let’s say it’s me. I sip through the bombilla until there’s no liquid left and return it to the cebador. (Don’t say “thanks” if you want seconds.)
3. The cebador refills the hot water, repeats the process with other guests.
4. The mate gourd goes around. When I’ve had enough, I pass the gourd back to the cebador and say gracias to indicate that I’m done.
It took me weeks to figure out the etiquette, and one sip to figure that I like mate. We see plenty of folks sipping on mate bombillas in parks or on street corners. Friends offer mate when we visit. But it is not on the menu at restaurants or cafes, so you gotta know porteños or longtime residents to have some. It does sound like I’m boasting, but I’m really not. OK, maybe a little.
Yep. We had a lil’ rental skirmish —we tried to move to a new spot on Good Friday (a serious Public Holiday here), but we had to pass on it. The place was a lot smaller than advertised, and they had no internet at all. High speed wifi was advertised, and I need some internet for the part-time gig. Plus we both had an inexplicable bad feeling the moment we entered that pad. Our rental company couldn’t relocate us immediately due to the holiday. So we walked around with our giant backpacks, eventually landing at a cafe with wifi. Emailed new friends Clara, Eric and Piper. We must have had some immense luck—they all offered to let crash until we found something.
We stayed at Eric and Clara’s last night, and are with Piper tonight. And their apartments are seriously decked out, comfortable and amaziballs. More impressive than that: the generosity. We are truly fortunate and appreciative. Even better, we found a place for Monday. Yay.
