Crazy Taxis and Transvestite Clubs?

So, its Friday morning...January 21st (I think).  Last night was a looooong night and today started way too early, but I had to say goodbye to some friends that are leaving and plan my trip considering I'm supposed to leave tomorrow.  In all honesty, I'm barely adapting this whole thing.  Its an insane combination of cultural and sensory overload, but in an awesome way.  Somehow, every morning everyone here wakes up and engages in some cultural exposure oriented activity....slightly hung over.  They're usually in groups of three that have the same dynamic.

The Explanation of Backpacker Group Dynamics

One person in the group wakes up bright eyed and bushy tailed after a good night's sleep...about 3 hours, and then makes a racket and forces the other two to wake up.  They usher the others through the bathroom as the "initiator" begins making plans of the morning activities.  For the next 5 hours, the other 2 grumble, take pictures, and beg the initiator for aspirin and water hoping to abate their ever present hangovers.  At some random point, person number 2 (the "middleman") get's their magical craving satisfied (usually something chocolate or wine related for the girls, and beer for the guys) and takes over keeping the energy level up for the group.  This person continues to be driven by food.  At about 8 or 9 at night, person 3 ("calamity") finally wakes up and starts making plans for the night.  Plans that seem remarkably similar to whatever made them useless the entire preceding day.  But they're amazing plans!  So everyone goes along!  "Calamity" finds alcohol for the group the way the middleman provided food.....tricks them into doing something "just to check it out", and before you know it, 6 AM rolls around and they're all stumbling back to the hostel carrying the initiator who almost passed out on the table and one of them is claiming that a magical Leprechaun ushered them home (true story....I love the Dutch).  And the next day they do it again.  It is amazing....flawless....and a series of bad ideas intended to make life interesting.

A More Superficial Topic.....REALLY RANDOM PARTIES, Crazy Taxis, and Transvestite Clubs

The most interesting thing about yesterday was that even though I'm a solo traveler, I ended up the fourth addition to the 3 backpacker dynamic listed above.  And the calamity rolled through pretty easily.  I think from now on I won't be able to post nearly as much as I'd like to...one because I can't remember it all.....and two because this record stays.  But just a synopsis, at about 4 AM this morning I was in the VIP section of a notorious transvestite themed club (don't worry, cup checking was in order....no incidents), with tons of characters decked out like Matrix influenced anime and a 4 hour long professional break dancing competition going on the entire time on the main stage, a group of about 100 backpackers from my hostel rolled en mass which made it that much better.  It was such a trap though!  The conversation lead up goes like this...

girl -"Have you bought your ticket to the club yet"

Carlos - "Not yet.  Does it look like it'll be any good?"

girl - "Yeah everyone's going, you should go.  We should all share a taxi...."

Carlos - " Got it."  Carlos proceeds to buy his ticket.

Other girl - "So are you going to that transvestite bar thing?"

Carlos - "Wait...WHAT?!"

Other girl - "Yeah, the club supposedly is transvestite themed and has them all over the place.  Check out the poster"  

Sure enough....the poster looks twisted as all hell with scantily clad girls and he shes.  I can't tell which ones are actually girls.  Its too late to refund the ticket.  Trapped again.  lucky for me, the only transvestites are the crazily dressed ones that were employed by the club....I think.  I hope.  I'm just going to tell myself that.  On the insane bright side, the show was awesome, I'd recommend it to anyone, and there was no walk of shame afterwards.  If you're going to Buenos Aires, take a group of friends and hit "Club 69".  Remember to cup check. 

On the way to the club, which was about a 20 minute ride, there was a herd of taxi cabs filled with backpackers from my hostel that looked like a stampede of little black and yellow Chevy Aveo's that were actually racing and zig zagging lanes, driving in opposite bound lanes at some point.  I'm not sure if the taxi drivers were trying to entertain us or themselves.  And just one more thing to prepare yourself for in Argentina.  It seems like after every taxi journey, the ride will leave you thinking "for real?  Did that just happen?  Is that allowed to happen?  Screw it....I hope we get that guy again."  And odds are, you will get that guy again....so remember his name...it'll make the interaction that much better next time.

A Senior...no wait...."Sober Moment"???

I had another story I wanted to share that had an insane amount of meaning behind it....but in all honesty, there isn't enough fluid in my brain for everything to work correctly.  

Discovering La Boca and Buenos Aires' Port

So, anyways, the less degenerate portion of yesterday was amazing.  I was abducted once again by fellow backpackers who showed me an amazing time and kept me laughing with the interactions.  The entire experience surrounded La Boca, which as touristy as it feels bleeds Argentine and South American/Latin American culture.  It is a small district on the brim of Buenos Aires on the edge of Port Merdero.  The streets are riddled with shops, street performers and Tango dancers, tons of restaurants filled with Argentines as well as backpacking expats who are making a buck to finance their next travel, and have pretty amazing stories to share.  The streets are mostly cobblestone and the buildings are gritty and painted in a variety of flamboyant colors.  Graffiti is all over the place, and bleeds character.  The district in general has a very Latin American feel, but still brings to mind my idea of the Caribbean.  I love how everywhere I go here still feels gritty.  Its like the Argentines love this place so much that they refuse to change it, and they love it because of the balance they keep.  The passion that everywhere here bleeds would, to most Americans, be categorized as fairly feminine.  The Tango dancers, the kisses on the cheek that everyone gives you (even if you've just met), the way they love their food.  But I have to respect it when I look around because its easy to tell that a lot of these neighborhoods aren't the best, so whatever you are is probably earned and defended.  There are remnants of revolutions and struggles everywhere here.  From the statues commemorating victors and victories, to the rebellious graffiti reminiscent of the early stages of original hip hop and expresses recent discontent...but you can tell that the feelings and reasoning behind their graffiti are rooted much deeper in their blood here.  A passionate people, that earn the right to be so.  Their arrogance about is so masculine that it balances it out.  On top of that, this guy doing the Tango seems to be wearing women's boots and clothing, but has this hot little dancer running around him.  Almost like he's bossing her around on the dance floor and she's loving it.  So, a recommendation if you are ever here.  A huge steak lunch at a street side cafe with live Tango and Flamenco dancers and live singers performing right in front of you.  I definitely recommend it.

So, What's Next?

In all honesty, I haven't done nearly as much exploring as I should have since I've been here.  I'm enjoying the idea of making this a lazy "holiday" (even though partying here almost seems like work), but the most amazing part of this trip so far has been the people I've met.  The "backpacker" and long term traveler types are really interesting....yet quirky, but still fun people.  So, I'm thinking of asking for a job at one of these hostels and just hanging out and working for a few weeks as a way to meet people.  Who knows....it sounds like an interesting idea.  If not that, then 48 hours from now, I will likely be in a different country.  I've no idea what is in store today or tonight...I'm anticipating mellow though.  Lucky for me, the Argentines actually do mellow pretty well.  Time to catch up on my wine education.  I love this place.

Some Stories Just Aren't Meant to Be Told

So last night was interesting....extremely interesting.  And considering that the internet is a living record that will outlive most of us, the events of last night will not be posted on my blog.  They will be saved for a story to be told to a select few in situations that can't be recorded.  In short....Buenos Aires, and South America, are insane.  I love this place.

- Carlitos

So, a Black Guy, a Jew, a French Chick, and a New Yorker walk into a bar......

Its almost the start of a joke, but not quite....just the beginning of another mis-adventure in Argentina.  Except replace "into a bar" with "aimlessly wandering and lost around the graffiti riddled streets of Buenos Aires at 2:00 in the morning".  Starting from yesterday, here's how it went....

D's Theory of "Self Selecting"  in Adventures

Stealing the words of my fellow adventurer "D", the most awesome character trait about mis adventures (whether they're camping trips, backpacking trips, or hostels) is the "self selecting factor" that keeps them interesting.  By this, I mean most situations in life appeal to a certain type of personality.  The more off the beaten path you get, the more eccentric the personality usually has to be to take part in the madness.  This becomes awesome when you enter a fairly eccentric situation because it tends to bring in the same type of people creating an insane dynamic.  It happens all the time...on sports teams (jocks) in science classes (nerds) in San Diego (hippies) and in Venice Beach (crackheads.....just playin).  Eventually, if you're doing something you're truly drawn to, you'll end up surrounded with people that have more in common with you than not.  For my situation here in Buenos Aires its no exception...here's why...

And I accidentally picked one of the top 10 worst places in the world to try and be sober....

I'm staying at the Millhouse Hostel.  In my frantic last minute planning, I actually did something right (completely by accident, mind you).  If you google "Millhouse Hostel Buenos Aires" you'll find that it is listed as one of the top 10 party hostels in the world.  I definitely didn't realize this planning.  Now that doesn't mean everyone staying here is a party junkie (only about 96%), it does mean they're adventurous.  The Aussie fella next to me just finished talking about how he had food poisoning twice in one week, but he thinks its because they went a bit off trail in the Amazon.  That was in addition to alcohol poisoning, but he'll still be at the Tango lesson tonight.  Pretty much every personality here is like that.  The conditions here aren't the best, but the bar is fully stocked, the Spanish music is playing 24/7, and the board of non-degenerate activities is constantly being updated.  Most of the people here are studying Spanish and Portuguese in their few free minutes, and everyone was out and about by 12 today even though most didn't stumble in until 7 AM this morning.  There are a ton of solo travelers who decided to quit their jobs back home and made this trip some kind of phoenix re-birth.  The hostel itself is interesting on its own....the city of Buenos Aires is a whole different beast that I'm just scratching the surface on.  It feels like a cross between the raw, gritty nature of Eastern Europe combined with the passion, culture, and style of the Spanish and Italians.  The food is amazing.  The women are beautiful.  The ambiance is great.  You NEED to do this.  But for now, back to the story.

And MY story continues

It all started yesterday with the idea to take a nap so I wouldn't be outdone by the rhythm gifted Brazilian chicas that litter this place.  As I walked up stairs I could hear the music, the crowd getting louder, and realized that NO ONE was in their rooms.  As one of two Americans here....I couldn't be "that guy"....and I'm not about to be outdone by any Brits.  I showered up and headed down to the in hostel bar/lounge area to rejoin the other American fella hear and a cute French girl who'd joined the group.  While we're swapping stories another girl from Brooklyn who'd just flown in sits down with the group, as did a model-esque looking German girl.  All of which happened with in minutes....self selection in action.  The chatter went on until we realized it was time to leave now and eat before the wine started flowing at the hostel (every night at around 8:30, the first floor of the hostel turns into a club, unless some other event is planned), or just go with the flow.  The final verdict is have our first experience at an Argentinean Steak House and then come back and join the party.  This little trek started at around 8:00.

The other American guy is a zealous one.  Talkative, very energetic, and has a slight case of ADD.  By slight, I mean a s#*tload.  He swears up and down that he knows exactly where this place is....I smell the calamity cooking, as do the girls, so we let it ride.  Now, one side note.  I read in the guidebooks that one should avoiding walking around Buenos Aires after dark, avoid dimly lit ares (common sense), places that locals avoid at night and various barrios.  Fast forward to 15 minutes later.  So, the 4 of us are walking down a long stretch road.....which for about 3 blocks has all the streetlights out.  I make a comment to the people walking with me that I've got a general rule of not being the only one walking on a dimly lit street riddled with graffiti in a foreign country when I don't have anything to protect myself with.  (Which was exactly what the situation was).

The Jewish girl pipes back that "if anything happens, we're running".
I give a surprised look and say "haha, so you think you can outrun a bullet or something?"
Her response, "No, WE're running....you have to stay back and fight of the guys.  You're a Marine right?"
"I said I WAS a Marine once upon a time.  I'm just a backpacker, plus I didn't drag us into this shady neighborhood...and what about him?"
"Look at him....do you really think we can expect him to help?  We'll just make him an honorary girl....you're stuck."

This conversation was stopped when our French girl randomly walks up to two guys hanging on the side of the dimly lit street to ask directions.  At this point I remember how interesting it is to be that one unpredictable one in the group....but when the entire group is unpredictable, this is really new territory.  And this was supposed to be a slow night.  After a couple minutes of waiting by just in case things got sour too quick, the French girl comes back explaining that one of them was actually a cop and that she layered on the accent, cranked up the flirtatiousness, and gave the "pour little French girl" routine to get them to write out our directions home.  Apparently she uses that tool a lot, and it worked pretty damn well....looked like something from a movie.  I'm not even mad....I'm kind of impressed.  So, that good idea changed the entire direction our night was taking us in (which come to find out was actually opposite of where we needed to go and towards those barrios that the guidebook warned about).

The walk home was fun.  A few exchange of thoughts and stories.  Apparently, these kind of adventures are common for most of this group...and the rest of the hostel.  I think I have new recommendations for the "Scumbag Council" upon return.  Sometime in this whole adventure, we made it to a restaurant and had fairly decent yet cheap Argentine steak served by an extremely animated waiter that reminded me of actors from the "novela" soap operas on telemundo.  The American couple that sat next to us told about how they were pick-pocketed today by two motorcycle riders working together who nearly ran over the wife, then helped her up and simultaneously pick pocketed here.  We added a bottle of wine to our meal for good measure.  Remember how we left at 8PM?  By the time we got back, it was going on 3AM and the remnants of the hostel party were all of the place.  Straws and alcoholic mud and glasses all over the floor.  I think a pair of shorts too...I can't remember.  The left over Brazilians were singing national songs at the top of their lungs.  Most of the hostel was standing in front of the hostel (in the middle of the street)  hailing taxes to head as a group to the club.  The odd part.....this was a Monday.  Monday is the slowest night of the week for these people.  Apparently Tuesday is the wild...and dangerous day.  Today is Tuesday.  I think things might get interesting...again.  And I planned for this to be a mild night, so at least I got that.  As for the night, I was wiped, so was the rest of my hodge podge group....so we swapped email addresses and all called it a night.  Most of us hadn't slept except for a few hours on a flight the night before....and the French girl was supposed to fly out at 5 AM, so she was just trying to stay awake.  And that was my first day in Buenos Aires.  Tonight....free Tango lessons at the hostel at 8:30, then most of the hostel is migrating across town to the sister hostel for a pre-party....and at 2:30, the night begins....again.  I think I'm really starting to like this city.

Once Upon a Time.......

How this story began.....

Once upon a time (a week and a half ago) in a land far away (San Diego) there was a boy named Carlos. On one particular night at about 2AM after finishing a bottle of wine Carlos had the great idea of flying to the far away land of Argentina where the rivers flowed with wine and were lined with beautiful Argentinean women, ....and becoming "Carlitos".....he could pretend he was Domincan, right? The next morning, Carlos woke with a ticket to Buenos Aires, a wine hangover, and a week and half to plan out a two month long backpack trip through South America. And that's how all of the bad decisions began....

...sooo, how did the journey actually start?

There are a couple of things I value in life. Good people, good food, good booze (wine), and experiences. Through our experiences we discover ourselves and the world around us. What we like and what we hate. Who we are and who we're not. Through everything we touch in the world, we learn how to feel what we touch in a different way...so, through experience, you become more "you". So what happens when you've gained hold of your identity and realize who you are? What good is experience then? Well, my view is that it does the same thing, but better. Experience brings us back to life...revives us and reminds us why we wake up in the morning. Whether its for your kid, your job, your beer, or your dance, each refreshing experience reminds you what makes your life worth living. That is exactly what this trip is. Aside from the less honorable stories I'll pick up during this trip, its just me taking the opportunity to feel alive, discover more "me", and get in touch with the "me" that may have been suppressed in my more recent pursuits. This trip is the pursuit of balance and filling an open mind. There's a lot more to this trip and surrounding this trip than superficial needs and superficial pleasures....but for now, that'll do. If you hang in, you get the story.

Why the hell would I write this?

With a millions of whiny emo's blogging their every thought and emotion that would better be left unsaid, and millions of backpackers using the web to record their "epic journey" that seems like a carbon copy of the next guys, why would I bother blogging mine? 2 reasons

- 1-
To share this little adventure with the friends and family that I haven't taken an epic journey yet, but plan to in the future. Mostly, I'm hoping to trigger one of them to make a life improving yet erratic and potentially bad decision.

-2-
TO ASK FOR HELP!!! This is where things get interesting. I am honestly the least creative person I know...but I am very good at enacting plans...and I have a ton of friends that are way more creative than I am...so here goes. With the exception of Venezuela and Columbia and still having to be financially feasible, if anyone finds some crazy thing to do on this continent and posts it on my page, I WILL DO IT. If I don't...I dunno....I'll fly to your city and dinner and drinks for the night are on me....but that's the gyst of it.

Back to the Journey

Now with that said, even though I've got a week and a half of "journey" to catchup posting on, it will have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, its 7 PM and I'm dead tired because I didn't sleep last night, but the crew here at the hostel is pre-gaming to get ready to go to the clubs when they open....at 2:30 AM, and then ride out through the night from there. I'm one of two Yank's here so I will not be outdone! But I can't hang with these Brazilian chicks on the dance floor in this condition, so I'm calling it quits to take a nap for a couple hours before we ride out. This is going to be a long couple months!

Tonights Mission: Survive