¡Uh-Oh! Dulce de Leche Happens

Nadine walked into the bedroom with Sophie in her arms and sat on the bed, and greeted me in Spanish, “¡Feliz Cumpleaños!” With a look of concern on her face, Sophie seriously glanced at Nadine, and finally at me, and calmly uttered, “Uh-Oh!”

Lapices Artesanales

Feliz Cumple Viejo

In celebration of my 31st, my heart was set on a sushi dinner. In Argentina, Saturday night also happens to be a fashionable night to go out for dinner, or for that fact, almost everywhere else in the world. But here, it’s also common to eat around 10 o’clock at night.

As we nonchalantly walked up the stairs to a hidden sushi restaurant, I mentioned in jest to Nadine that I hoped we didn’t need reservations to eat there. As any reader may not see coming, deep inside nearly vacant restaurant, the host asked if we had reservations. Doh! With a look of horror, I responded that we didn’t, but I friendly stated that it was my birthday, maybe she could squeeze us into one of those dozen empty tables. She very politely responded that the place was fully reserved for the night, birthday or no birthday. Dang inability to plan ahead. I asked again, this time with a slight wink and flash of a 5 peso bill, if there was any possible way we could eat. She glanced back at us, stepped back, poked her head around the corner, and cooly asked the owner if it was possible to allow these “two-no-reservation-making-gringos” a chance to indulge in little raw fish. The ultimatum politely arrived. If we were able to finish our dinner by 10, we could stay. At this time, it was only 8:30. That’s more than enough time for me to consume my weight in rice, seaweed, and salmon. My weight in sushi was superb.

¡Qué ricas las empanadas argentinas!

You Had Me At Empanada

Empanadas, pizza, and asado have a special place in our hearts. Between every parrilla or empanada joint, there is a panadería offering a tasty assortment of pastries, cookies, sweets, and breads. It equally seems that every single panadería is above average. When I mention ‘above average’, this is in reference U.S. standards for breads. These panaderías might just be average on the Argentine standard, and probably subpar for the French, but in my eyes, it’s all good. Yet, there is one ingredient between all that flaky panadería goodness, that gooey, brown sweetness called dulce de leche. Good ol’ sweet dulce de leche.

Sophie here in La Boca with her hand in her “boca”

Into the Mouth of La Boca

Italian immigrants arrived to Buenos Aires and the work they often found was repairing and painting boats. It wasn’t a lucrative trade. Thus, when it came time to paint the house or feed 11 bambinos, food took priority, and there wasn’t money left for paint. To compensate for the crappy looking exteriors of their homes, and at no cost to the homeowner, they would take the extra paint left from a hard day’s work, carry it home, and paint their house with it. If know Italy, you realize that no Italian is going to settle for bland when you can have spectacular. So there on the Buenos Aires’ docks, Totto’s boat was going to outdo Giovanni’s yellow boat, his would be neon pink. As one can imagine, every house, in the neighborhood known as La Boca, is a smorgasbord of colors, making it one of the most colorful (pun is intended) parts of Bs.As.

Is that story actually true? Not sure, since I was told 3 different stories by locals about the origins of the various colored houses, before I decided I liked a photographer’s story the best.

Nice Paint Job La Boca

Back in Colonia del Sacramento Time

With a Thermos in Hand

Once again, travel for Nadine and I has now changed, reached a new stage you might say. No excursion is taken without consideration about whether or not little Sophie has been fed, is fully rested, and free of the contents of a dirty diaper. So initially we assumed we would go over to Colonia, Uruguay with the energizer bunny in tow. Yet after a few weeks of answering to her every whim, picking up the pacifier for the fifth consecutive time in two minutes, contorting our faces to prevent crying in public places, a break was in order. We left Sophie in the expert hands of her more than capable niñera Jimena, and crossed the River Platte delta.

Can’t Truly Be Uruguayo Without a Thermos in One Hand

In the early morning, with high anticipation, the high speed Buquebus boat carried us over Colonía del Sacramento, Uruguay, home to a World Heritage Site. Soon as we sat down, Nadine positioned her head into that contorted state that allows her to sleep on any form of public transportation and prevents embarrassing drooling.

Hours later, we navigated the historic streets in search of nourishment. It turned out that math was for breakfast. In the excitement to stroll Colonía, the breakfast bill held us up. We sat calculating the best exchange rate between Argentine pesos to U.S dollars, U.S. dollars to Uruguayan pesos, Uruguayan pesos to Malaysian ringgits to Indian rupees to New Mexican green chilis (the weakest of all mentioned currencies) and finally back to Uruguayan pesos. We finally overpaid by 200% to the waiter’s delight. Finally we strolled strolled the historic center. The sites and our high anticipations were slightly dashed by the rain and cold wind blowing up my shorts. Fortunately, more quality nourishment in the form of lunch next to heater prevented a completely crappy day.

We still have two weeks in Argentina before our return stateside.