Que Onda?

            Que onda (what's up?) you ask?  Onda Azul is que onda!  Literally translated as "Blue Wave", Onda Azul is part working farm, part Israeli hippie commune, located on a quaint riverside piece of property less than a quarter of a mile from the mountains in Lago Puelo (about 30 minutes south of El Bolson).

 

Onda Azul 

            Being neither a hippie, nor Israeli, I never would have come across this place had I not gone to Bariloche and encountered 2 girls from Los Angeles (one of whom happened to be a bit of crunchy hippie with a thing for Israeli guys).  After going for a hike in Bariloche they informed me of their plans to head down to Lago Puelo and invited me to join them.  When I asked if they thought there would be an open bed for me the hippie replied, "There's always room on the farm, brah!".  My response, "Llama lo?" (Hebrew for "why not?").  So the next day we hopped on the bus and were on our way.

 

L.A. Hippie 

          Before arriving in Lago Puelo the bus made one stop in El Bolson where every single passenger disembarked, except for the 3 of us.  Okaaay.   Half an hour later we were dropped off at a lonely, dusty bus stop.  I went into the only business around (a small travel agency) and asked the guy if he'd ever heard of "Onda Azul".  He said he had, told me it was about a kilometer away, and offered to call us a cab.
         So, we waited for the cab, and when it came near the license plate said "Shalom" and it had dice in the mirror we noticed that it had more writing in Hebrew than Spanish.  We pulled up to the farm about seven or eight and I yelled to the cabbie, "Yo Itzhak, smell ya later!" were all immediately reminded of summer camp.
         After our rooming options were explained we decided to take the 3 remaining beds in a 6 person cabin.  Once our stuff was secured in our room I took off my shoes (you know, to try and blend in) and went for a walk to find out what this place was all about.  I quickly learned that it was essentially where young Israeli hippies (age 21 - 24) who have just finished their service in the army come to sit around, listen to reggae, play bongos and guitars (or "jam"), toss the bee (as in Fris), speak Hebrew, partake in other stuff that hippies all over the world seem to enjoy, and then eat tons of Israeli food (which by the way is delicious.  I recommend the shakshooka - a sauteed tomato dish with eggs on top, eaten with bread).

 

Hippie jam session 

          Run by 3 Israeli brothers who all reminded me of an odd mix of Mose (Dwight Schrute's German speaking Amish cousin) and Duane Allman, "The Farm" (as we got to calling it) felt like a strange combination between Schrute Farms and the Manson Family commune.  Nonetheless, the staff and guests were all really cool and welcoming.  Aside from 3 Austrians who happened to be there, we were the only non-Israelis (and one of the brothers told me that I was the first guest they'd ever had from New York).

 

Davida - the Onda Azul kitten

  

Davida taking a nap

  

2 week old puppies in the internet room on The Farm

  

Me- wading in the river 

  

Ghandi, the Onda Azul German shepherd, trying to coerce this young Israeli girl to go swimming with him 

         We had a good time, relaxed, checked out La Feria in El Bolson, got acquainted with the animals and just hung out for a while.  After 3 days of chilling we finally decided it was time to leave and got our bus tickets out of there.  One recommendation I would give would be to book your travel plans to leave before you actually arrive, as it is very easy to get sucked into the timeless vortex that is The Farm.  If you don't book ahead, you could very well end up spending weeks or even months there without noticing.

 

Hippie jewelry for sale at La Feria in El Bolson

  

Hippie fly tying (El Bolson)

  

La Suprema - waffle w/ dulce de leche, strawberry preserves, cream & powdered sugar (El Bolson)

  

Industrial caulk gun used for pumping dulce de leche 

        Reggae.  Jam sessions.  Frisbee.  Puppies!  Kittens!  A German shepherd named Ghandi??!!  From what I gather this place is the ultimate stoner's paradise.  But what would I know?  I've never touched the stuff.....

- Shalom

Patagonia - Perito Moreno Glacier

Last week I had the pleasure of doing an ice trek on the Perito Moreno Glacier just outside El Calafate, Argentina.  The experience and scenery were truly amazing and the weather couldn't have been better.  The natural beauty of this enormous block of ice is such that words could never do it justice so I'll just let the pics do the talking.  No sarcastic quips or witty remarks are going to make it anymore enjoyable for you to read (or me to write).  So, without further adieu, here are a few of the better shots from the day:

Glacier in the background (Llamas in the foreground)

Serenity now!

Crampons on.  About to head out onto the glacier.

River on the glacier.

Blue Lagoon in the middle of the glacier.

Trekkin'

Lunchtime

Nice headband hippie

Trekking back - single file

Boat back to the other side

Complimentary scotch - nice

The Last Supper...La Cabrera

         
         After an unplanned 7 day detour through Patagonia I found myself purchasing a ticket for a flight back to Buenos Aires for two final nights before heading to Mendoza and then on to Chile.  After buying the ticket I realized that this was probably going to be my last chance to do the one thing that I regretted not doing the other 4 times I had been in BA - eating dinner at La Cabrera.  So I immediately went to their website and booked a table for Thursday night.
          You don't need a guidebook (or to be an avid reader of this blog) to find the not so hidden secret that is La Cabrera.  It's probably the most well known (and highly touristy) steak restaurant in all of Buenos Aires.  But it deserves the hype!  I guess it's comparable to Peter Luger's in NY, but really think it's on a different level (as there are no competitors on its level.  i.e. The Palm, Striphouse, Wolfgang's, etc).
          My Wednesday afternoon flight took off from Calafaté airport on time at 1:45 but after 20 minutes the pilot realized he could only bank to the right and made an announcement that we'd have to return to the airport (See? that's what I was talking about in my last post.  Don't hesitate to let us know if there's some pertinent info.  Otherwise, keep it to yourself.  Dale Capitan).   We weren't sure if the flight would end up going that night or not until the morning.  But, I had faith.  The stars had aligned and I was going to eat at La Cabrera, damn it!  Finally after a 9 hour delay, the flight took off and I arrived in BA around 1 AM. 
          Anyways, back to La Cabrera.  Reservations were for 8:30 and the restaurant was only about a 5 minute walk from our hostel so after a quick drink on the hostel terrace my dining partner and I made our way out at around 8:20.  Approaching the corner of Thames and JA Cabrera we found a disorganized mass of tourists and locals alike (some with reservations, some without) trying to figure out what was going on and who was in charge.  Once we became part of this mass, the anxiety in the air was very apparent.  There isn't really a line and everybody is on edge hoping that either their reservation has been confirmed and acknowledged or that they might slip through on the waiting list.  The fact that reservations are taken under first names only doesn't add any sense of order or comfort to the situation and since my parents didn't have the foresight to give me a slightly more original name for such circumstances I quickly learned that I was not the only "John" with a reservation for 2 at 8:30 (don't worry little D'Brickeshaw Carter, this is something you'll never have to deal with once you're in the world).  Luckily my Spanish charm and New York elbows got us to the front of the line where I learned that our reservation was, in fact, confirmed but was at La Cabrera Norte (across the street, about 50 yards away).  So we made our way there and found a much quieter, more controlled, less anxious crowd waiting to be let in for the first seating.
        I gave my name and we were promplty seated in the half empty room and presented with menus and a wine list.  After a quick scan of the meat section I decided on the ojo de bife (rib-eye) and my dining partner chose the lomito (tenderloin/filet).  We also agreed to share a caprese salad to start and order a few sides and a bottle of wine.  While taking our order our waiter, a sweet old man in a seemingly authentic gaucho's cap, informed us that ordering sides would not be necessary as an array of dishes were included with our steaks.  He also let me in on the fact that my rib eye would probably be big enough to sink a cruise ship.  I told him to bring it on.  The wine, water, and caprese arrived.  While delicious, the capreses isn't really even worth mentioning here (not sure why just I did).
          Then came the steaks.  Mine, the size of a leather briefcase, and Sarah's, 4 big cuts of filet mignon, each one of which could have been a meal on its own.  They were served on long wooden boards, accompanied by 6 small dishes of various sides and sauces.  Our waiter quickly started re-arranging all of the sides and sauces and informed us that he had to make room for the platter of guarniciones calientes (hot sides) that were on their way.  Sure enough, a minute later, a round platter with 6 small dishes containing mashed potatoes, squash puré, warm chick pea salad, confit onions, etc. arrived on our table. 

Guarniciones Calientes.

Ojo de Bife

      The meal progressed.  We ate, drank, and were merry.  Happy to be at "the other La Cabrera" which was definitely less crowded and less hectic than the original, and less than a stone's throw away. 

"Listo"

      I usually try to avoid the most hyped, extremely touristy/popular places.  Moral of this story: sometimes the people are right.  We should listen to them.

The steak looked so delicious that even this self-proclaimed "crunchy hippie" broke her vegan vow and ordered a filet.

Happy eating!

- Tres

Argentina's Buses....The Only Way to Fly

At first I was a little apprehensive about sitting on a bus for 18 hours from Buenos Aires to Iguazu Falls, but all you hear from anybody travelling down here is how great the buses are so I signed up for a supercama seat and gave it a shot.  As my bus experience is minimal I took the proper precautions and made sure I had all the essentials: plenty of water, gum, hand sanitizer, books, iPods fully charged, toilet paper, and enough food to sustain a band of separatist guerillas for a month.  Shortly after boarding I realized that everything they say is true. On my seat I found a nicely wrapped blanket and pillow and in front of it Bose headphones hanging on my personal TV screen.  All seemed good and I ate one of my sandwiches, then laid back in my 180 degree fully reclining seat and started watching the first movie "As Good As It Gets" (fitting, and in English).

 

Twenty minutes later with a belly full of sandwiches and apples I smelled what turned out to be a delicous dinner of beef, vegetables, and rice complete with wine, chapagne, and coffee.  Nothing like a good steak to wash down a few sandwiches.  I conked out for a bit and woke up in complete comfort.  It was only then that I realized how much better this was than flying.  Sure this bus ride was 18 hours and the flight would've been a mere 2, but the bus cost less than a third of the cost of a flight.  Aside from the money saved what was even more satisfying to me was all of the annoyances of flying that I avoided by taking the bus.  Below is a short list of reasons why bus > plane:

1) No arriving 2 hours early and sitting in the terminal so you can pay $4.50 for a bottle of water and $3.50 for 5 pieces of Trident.
2) It's ok to pack more than 1 day's worth of shampoo in your carry-on, hell, they even let you bring your scissors.
3) No sketchy security guard with a foot fetish telling you it's required that he x-ray your Havianas just so he can watch you walk barefoot across the gross floor.
4) Keep your iPod on, use your laptop, make calls, do whatever you like with whatever electronic devices you want, the entire trip.  Come to think of it, how reassuring is it that my compulsion to break my high score in Brickbreaker apparently has the potential to bring down a state of the art airliner?  You'd think the good people at Boeing could figure how to take care of that small detail.
5) No safety video (but no lifejacket either.  So, you win some you lose some).
6) And the best aspect of a bus ride in my mind is that the busdriver doesn't feel the need to update you on his every move.  He just puts the pedal down, shuts up, and drives.  No "This is Captain Travolta speaking.  We'd like to thank you for choosing to fly with Hubbard Airlines - your first choice Aeronautical Spiritual Engineering.  Tonight we'll reach a cruising altitude of about 30,000 feet.  In about an hour if you look out over our right wing (and have x-ray vision) you'll be able to make out the faces on  Mt. Rushmore.  Later, as we cross over Mackinaw Island you should be able to make out my lake house."  Look buddy, I don't fill you in on everything that's going on in my world "Well Captain, first I was thinking that I'd listen to every Radiohead album in chronological order. Then maybe, hit shuffle?  What do you think?" and later "This is John in 31A again.  Now I'm thinking about eating this entire family sized bag of extra spicy jalapeño Doritos.  I know I might pay for it later but I'm really bored." Do me a favor, unless you're about to put us down in a river (kudos to Sully on that one) leave the microphone on the hook and let me watch the movie.  Nobody cares how high we we're going or that we're crossing over Nova Scotia. We just want to know when we're gonna get there and how many free drinks we get. 

Now that I've got one longhaul bus ride under my belt I look forward to many more to come.  Tomorrow is 18 hours down south to Bariloche and I can't wait.

- Happy Trails

And.....we're back

Sorry, we'd gone radio silent for a while here at The Run Around but now we're back up and running, literally.  What I'd neglected to mention in my prison tale was the fact that my running shoes were stolen from outside my hostel room that very morning, and while I'm all for the barefoot revolution, sometimes when running in unfamiliar places in foreign countries you just plain need shoes...at least while looking for a good route.  So, without shoes for a week my runs were limited and consisted of just a few short jogs along the beach in Brazil.  Great scenery, but not much too write about.  Now I'm back in Buenos Aires working on a top secret project for a few days before hopefully heading down to Bariloche to do some running/trekking in the hills. 
Upon returning to BA the first order of business was to find a place where I could pick up a watch, camera, running shoes, and some havianas to replace my prison sandals.  Not knowing the word for 'mall' in Spanish I had to ask around for a bit and explain to a few people what I was looking for, but when I finally got my point across I was delighted to not only learn that the mall was just a few blocks away but also to find out what the word was.  Having spent a good amount of time in Spain I'm fully accustomed to, appreciative of, and often amused by the Spanish's habit of adopting variations of English words to depict deifferent things.  For example:  campground = el camping; parking lot = el parking.  And mall?  You guess it - el shopping.  Thanks Spain (and Argentina) for making things so easy for us gringos.  Following this logic you'd think bar would be 'el drinking', but they've made that one even easier...it's just 'bar'. 
While I've got pictures to share and things to write about, right now the aforementioned project is commanding most of my attention.  But stay tuned as there's lots of great fresh content to come.

- Ciao