B.A.'s Avenida de 9 Julio

We will not discuss how skinny I am in some of these photos. Let's just say that this trip was a long time ago and leave it at that. But I remember it well.

"Ezeiza," or "EZE" in airport code, is the international airport about 15 miles outside of Buenos Aires or "B.A" as it is known around the world. Opened in 1949 it sadly did not appear to have had much attention paid to it in the years since other than make it usable for widebodies hauling in from overseas. I wasn't impressed, to say the least, considering B.A. is such a cosmopolitan city where others in this tier have "statement" airports to impress and/or intimidate visitors with. The impression from this airport was one of having some catching up to do but I and my friends weren't in Argentina to rate the transportation. We were here to experience the city and it's more intrinsic offerings.

We took a shuttle service in to the city which dropped us off at our low-rent hotel for the next couple of days which nonetheless went by the lofty name of the Waldorf Hotel on Paraguay Street. It was not too far from major attractions but offered the kind of rates budget travelers prefer so they can spend money on fun, food and drink instead. The bed was comfortable enough, the linens clean and the water hot; we were good to go. And go we did, despite being fresh off a ten-hour overnight flight from Miami.

This was a whistle-stop tour of the Argentinean capital, requiring the covering of much ground and still having energy to adjust to the Latin rhythm of the place. We'd heard about some things, knew about some others and wanted to see anything else in between before having end our stay and head back north in less than 48 hours. First among the ones we knew about was the massive, awesome and unbelievably choked Avenida de 9 Julio, the promenade through the heart of the city billed as the widest boulevard in the world. It is pretty fat, I must say, seemingly almost wider than it is long.

The road evokes comparisons to the older Champs Elysees which is not nearly as wide but surprisingly twice as long: Avenida de 9 Julio only runs for one single kilometer while "the Champs" extends for a grand total of two. At some points, however, the Argentinean avenue has up to 11 lanes of traffic in each direction including parallel roads within the same area. Architecturally the main focus of "9th of July Avenue" is the Obelisk at the center of the route, again evoking Cleopatra's Needle at the very end of the Champs along with the famous opera house, Teatro Colon. After that it's apartment blocks, small office buildings and store front shops here and there but nothing that really captures the eye after the green spaces stretched all along the road.

Why was I so keyed up about this road? Not simply because of the size of the place but because of its history which is slightly, existentially connected to my own. On July 9, 1816, Argentina won its independence from Spain. My birthday is on the same day, although I came along a few years later.

And even now I'm not quite as wide!

Gotta go.

Away Argentina

South America, "Deep" South America, is a long-ass way away. There's just no other way to say it. When you say "South of the Border" around most Americans that usually does not extend any further in their minds than the Caribbean or Mexico. Many Americans, again, think of a ten-hour flight or longer as traveling east to Europe or west to Asia but aside from those marathon flights to Australia few know that major destinations in Brazil, Argentina and Chile take nearly as long to get to. Add in to the fact that none of these countries are more than two or three time zones ahead of much of the United States and the distance just doesn't compute.

I'm a huge geography buff, having been enamored of maps and different parts of the world from a very young age. I knew from earliest childhood that Argentina, for example, was a ten hour flight just from Miami but being that young, of course, I had yet to experience the journey for myself. I would be in my late 20s before finally making the voyage to the international city that is the capital of the country, Buenos Aires.

The flight from Dallas was two and a half hours in itself, including some healthy turbulence over the middle of the Gulf of Mexico before landing around nine o'clock in the evening for our connection to Argentina. I and the group of friends who came along with decided on Argentina not only because none of us had ever been there before but also because there were no visa requirements to add to the expense of our short first venture to the "Other America." The nightlife in "B.A." can hold its own against any of the delights to be found up north in Brazil so we didn't feel short-changed at all for the experience. Blasting "Shout" by Tears for Fears in my headphones as we backed away from the gate at Miami, this trip was starting out full of excitement and anticipation as any good vacation should.

We stayed awake for the perennial thrill of the takeoff and the chance to catch any glimpse of Cube as we made our way due south. A late dinner was served and then pretty much lights out for the duration of the trip until daybreak the next morning. When I awoke there was a carpet of green below me as the expansive forests of central Brazil spread out below me. This was only seven hours in to the flight and as everyone knows, daylight comes early at 39,000 feet, especially in the Southern Hemisphere Summer of mid-February. Ugh, that moon's bright!

I thought of the early aviation pioneers who might actually recognize the forest canopy below me. Undeveloped when air travel was in its infancy, the backwoods of Brazil have changed little but for the logging that is rapidly taking it away. And then any bare strip of land would save many a pilot until nonstop travel became possible as I was enjoying that very moment. Pan Am, who did much to open South America to adventurous Americans is gone now. So is Varig, once the proud flag carrier of Brazil. Even the second generation trailblazers in Eastern and Braniff have been dismissed from the skies but the links they forged remain strong today. Argentina may not have the cache of Spain, say, but the language is the same and the allure should be. It was for me.

Gotta go.

Eatin' Argentinian

Typically it is always a good thing to give a marginal service at least a second chance to confirm a questionable first impression one way or the other. I say "marginal" because in that instance there was something definitely missing or not right the first time and I want to go back to find out if that is the norm or the exception. On this occasion the second chance was dining at the Gaucho Grille on Canoga Boulevard in Woodland Hills, north of Los Angeles in the San Fernando Valley.

My first experience was back in late August as part of a nationwide business trip I was on at the time. My manager was with me on this leg of the trip and, having dined there the night before, recommended the restaurant to me as a good dining experience from one steak connoisseur to another. Just a short walk across the street from my hotel and offering a dining experience unique from The Cheesecake Factory I ambled in to the low lit, wood paneled establishment to be met with a California-ized version of gaucho-styled waiters in black pants, white shirts and red scarves.

The selection of the evening was the "Bife de Chorizo" which to Argentines loosely translates to the equivalent of a New York strip as opposed to the more familiar Mexican sausage. On a trip to Argentina many moons ago I discovered that not every country cuts its beef in the same style as the United States. A "T-Bone" is virtually unknown south of the border, for instance. I further discovered the different translations in Spanish for the various cuts as well: "chorizo" is a strip steak while "lomo" is more of a tenderloin.

Served a la carte, the steak was just a tad tougher than I prefer but strip steak tends to be leaner and meatier in most cases anyway. The service was professional and discrete but also on the robotic side of things as well: "What would you like, how would you like it cooked, bon appétit." Not much in the way of cultural immersion, explaining the beef tradition of the country or the nuances of each cut but I didn't know what to expect either. All in all, a good but not great experience.

Round Two was earlier this week in mid-December as part of a return visit to the project site I was working in August. A different colleague was with me on this occasion and I hosted the evening meal at the Gaucho Grille to get his reaction as well as give the place a second chance in my own eyes. His choice was the chorizo/strip while I went with the "traditional Argentine cut," the skirt steak or "entrana" served with steamed spinach and fresh broccoli.

My friend ended up cutting about a quarter of his away, describing it as "gristle" which I had not experienced the first time while mine was cooked to order but not nearly as flavorful as the Mexican style I'd come to expect for skirt steak. Again no real "presentation" of the food or the culture but we were able to enjoy a live broadcast of Thursday Night Football during our meal.

Having eaten steaks in Buenos Aires I was disappointed with this representation and my friend's reaction confirmed this as probably the last time I will dine at this chain. Too bad Argentina is so far away but the steaks they enjoy there are alone just about worth the 10 hour flight to get there.

Gotta go!

The Optimist Bucket List - Item 1

Of the 18 items on “The Bucket List” from the film, I can say I have accomplished over half of them.

The most beautiful girl is my niece. Stonehenge, the Louvre, the Great Wall, Hong Kong, the Pyramids and the Taj Mahal, all covered. See something truly majestic? I haven’t seen or climbed Mt. Everest but I have flown over Aconcagua. I’ve laughed until my stomach hurts, tears in my eyes from crying and not moving from sheer exuberant exhaustion. How? A friend and I once re-wrote the script for “Return of the Jedi” in to an x-rated love triangle between the Emperor, Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker.

The rest made me consider that many items on these kinds of lists for the most part can be accomplished with little assistance from others as long as you have the money.

The Travel List: All too easy to come up with 10, 100 or 1,001 places to visit.
The Pageant List: World peace, hunger, disease, poverty and illiteracy problems? Tall order.
The Sports List: Going to a Superbowl, the Opening Ceremonies, the Cubs winning a World Series or England taking the World Cup? Each folds in to the Travel List or doesn’t help Miss Universe in her noble work.

Most of us do want to change the world for the better but hopefully we also seek self improvement beyond material gain. What I looked for in writing my list was a way to satisfy at least three of the following attributes:

a) Self improvement
b) Cooperation and assistance from others
c) Overcomes social or political objections, human conflicts or personal feelings
d) Fulfills a lifelong personal dream
e) Benefits someone other than myself, either familiar or stranger

I will share the other nine items on my list over regular postings here. For now the first of ten items (not in any order) meets B, C and D.

Everybody wonders what it would be like to be invited to dine or stay at the White House, right? Although I include myself in that I would instead like to fly on Air Force One as part of a presidential entourage to a foreign country.

If a private citizen other than lobbyists, the media or chief executives have ever flown with a sitting president I am not aware of it. The idea is to simply have the commander in chief include an average civilian who can speak for him or herself and is truly one voice of the people as part of a goodwill delegation. You would think that a ten-hour flight to Europe would offer at least 15 minutes with the President, right?

Gotta go!