OC Half Marathon
I ran the OC Half Marathon today with Darius and Mayumi, two friends I met on my Antarctica trip. This was my first half marathon, and I didn’t have a lot of time to train as much as I had hoped, but I lived. A half marathon was a nice distance, and I’ll probably run more of these in the future … although I said that about marathons in 2002, and this run today is my first run since then. This was our group:
Darius and me, with my long sock arms.
Here I am, mid-run. I seem to have a knack at always spotting the camera.
Crossing the finish line!
Here we are with our medals. Our final time was 2:16.
A great run that was followed by an even greater lunch at In ‘n’ Out. See you next year.
ACC Chicago 2012
Your boy is back in Chicago! Unlike the last time I was here, when my goal was to attend the AHA meeting and find the start of historic Route 66, the purpose of my trip this time is threefold, to: (1) attend the annual meeting of the American College of Cardiology (ACC), (2) formally accept my ACC/Merck award, and (3) be awesome. This is Chicago at night:
The moment I arrived I went to Topman, a cool British clothing store that only has stores in New York and Chicago. I have been waiting to buy myself a new suit, and I definitely did that. (Goal 3: check.)
Afterwards I went to a reception by the Merck Foundation that honored us four new awardees. It was a very enjoyable reception, and it was very flattering that they honored us with one. This board listed all current/previous awardees
And here I am:
There were lots of Merck and ACC bigwigs, and here we are with ACC president Jack Lewin.
Then we went to eat at the Publican. The array of lights on the ceiling looked really cool, even though this picture doesn’t do it justice.
Publican was a great gastropub that specializes in foods featuring pig or fish. We ate tasty cioppino, pork belly, and porchetta (not sure what that was, but it sure tasted good.)
The next morning, Sunday, I woke up early to attend the Late Breaking Clinical Trials session. I watched a stimulating talk on the use of rivaroxaban for treating PEs as well as the 2-year outcomes of the PARTNER trial. So stimulating I fell asleep a few times. (Goal 1: check.)
Poster time. The abstract I submitted for this conference is just a teaser of the big news that we’ll unleash in May at Heart Rhythm Society. But here I am with Dr. Narayan, trying to change the world … one rotor at a time.
I snuck away at lunch time to try the deep dish pizza that Chicago is so known for. We ended up at Gino’s East and shared this awesome (and huge) pizza.
And finally, on Monday night, came time for the Convocation Ceremony. This is where we would formally be acknowledged for our award. It was a very grand ceremony in the main tent, where all the current and former ACC leadership were present. Everyone, including us, were dressed up in graduation gowns, and we got to sit on the front stage looking out at the crowd. When the ceremony began, the lights dimmed, weird music played, and someone dressed in funny clothes presented the ACC president with a weird sceptor/rod. It was a little weird initially, but the rest was fine. (Goal 2: check.)
Overall, a great trip.
Birthday festivities
The old man got older this past weekend.
I was lucky enough to have multiple celebrations over the span of a few days. First up was an elegant birthday party with my fellow fellows, awesomely hosted by Anna McDivit:
She even wrote out my name in fancy handwriting:
The next night I flew back home to reunite with my old gang, where we met at Limon (Peruvian restaurant), exchanged gifts (you really don’t want to know what that red and black gift next to me is), and downed a few drinks:
On the day of my birthday, my family and I went to Dosa, one of San Francisco’s best-reviewed Indian restaurants for an amazing lunch:
Looking at these pictures, I’m realizing a few things: 1) I have a shiny head, and 2) I need new clothes!
However … the MOST exciting celebration was provided by Sandi (aka melena/Melena), an awesome New Zealander I met on my recent trip to the bottom of the world. The girl seems to have endless talent, and she sent me this very entertaining video she made. (Note: I only know Sandi; I’ve never met anyone else in the video.)
Till next year …
Post-Antarctica Thoughts
Antarctica advice
It is certainly not cheap to visit this continent, and people should expect to pay at least a few thousand US dollars for the cruise alone, in addition to any airfare getting to/from Ushuaia, Argentina.
However, I quickly discovered from other passengers that cruise prices can vary dramatically. I paid slightly over $6000, while I met many who paid closer to $4000. My booking company, Polar Cruises, was a great company with excellent customer service (especially when our original cruise was cancelled), but I would encourage people to look around for the best prices.
But the best advice I learned is that for the lowest prices, be flexible. Because of work obligations, my travel dates were essentially fixed. If you do have flexibility — meaning you have a few days or weeks of wiggle room — fly to Ushuaia and look for deals there. There are great deals to be found at the countless travel agencies there, especially on last-minute deals. And there are lots of these deals. Most of those tickets were between $3000-$4000. Not bad.
Travel Insurance
Get it. After my cruise was cancelled, I was lucky that the replacement cruise had almost the same dates as my original one. But they were still off by two days, and so I had to book a few new flights. Not having bought travel insurance, I had to eat the cost myself. Luckily again, these new tickets cost me only $300, but some people had to pay as high as $2000 for changing around their (international) flights.
There is much uncertainty with trips like this that deal with very harsh weather conditions, so play it safe and purchase travel insurance.
Anti-American sentiment
People really have a dim view of the US. While most non-American travellers are very polite and do like the American people, they think we know nothing about the world or its geography. OK fine, they may be right, but still.
Case in point, there was a really annoying Scottish passenger on the ship who only talked to me about how obnoxious and narrow-minded Americans are. At one point she was squawking about how I probably thought no country in South America was important. I replied “South America?? I thought we were in Mexico.” Finally … I then got some silence out of her.
…
OK people, until next time, goodbye.
Travel Journal: Antarctica
Antarctica. The continent and the cruise were better than I could have ever imagined. Here is a recap for your reading enjoyment.
Day 1
Course: Ushuaia, through the Beagle Channel, then into Drake Passage
Waters: calm.
Morale: very high.
We’re on a boat! The cruise that motivated this whole trip has finally arrived. This will be our home for the next 10 days, after it pulled into port after just having returned from — where else — Antarctica.
While not a luxury cruise ship, it’s still awesome, with a very spacious lounge and ample deck space. Our room is one level from the bottom and has one window. After a lengthy orientation, we participated in an emergency drill where we waited for an alarm, rushed to put on our life vests, and then congregated in the lounge to learn how to properly board the life rafts.
This feels like the start of a whole new trip. Also, everyone is a little anxious about passing through the Drake Passage which has very choppy waters, but mostly we’re all excited.
One of the guides mentioned a quote, “Life without penguins is definitely possible, but it is senseless.” I’m looking forward to appreciating this.
Day 2
Course: All Drake Passage, all the time.
Waters: mildly choppy
Morale: pretty high
We have now entered the Drake Passage, which is where the Pacific and Atlantic oceans meet. Typically it has some of the world’s choppiest water, but forecasts for the next few days call for calm conditions. So far, it’s actually been so calm that the crew is calling it the Drake Lake.
Activities of daily living such as sleeping and showering are much harder on a rocking boat. The first time I peed in the toilet was in the middle of the night, when I got up but forgot I was on a boat. I stood there half-asleep with both hands holding down my pants when the boat rocked so violently that the toilet lid fell shut as I was peeing on it, and then I was thrown backwards into the wall. I don’t get up in the middle of the night anymore.
Finally, it’s a very strange view to see only water but absolutely no land. It’s even stranger that we’re at the very bottom of the earth and yet none of us have fallen off.
Day 3
Course: Shetland Islands
Waters: Choppier than yesterday, but tolerable.
Morale: Getting slightly bored.
We entered the Antarctic Convergence this morning, but I’m not quite sure what that means. Temperatures dropped to 1 degree C. That’s not warm. In the early afternoon we saw our first icebergs…finally, something to look at other than water. Soon thereafter we arrived at the Shetland Islands and had our first zodiac ride. (Zodiacs are large, study inflatable rafts that shuttle us from the ship to shore.) And what did we see on land? Penguins!
These little guys waddle and look a lot like people, flip flopping from side to side on their feet. We saw hundreds of them, sleeping, walking, feeding their chicks, pecking one another, and avoiding us. And there’s no escaping penguin poop.
Funny, I never knew where the Shetland Islands were and now I’ve been on them. (And somehow I still don’t know where they are!) And technically we were on Antarctica today since the Shetlands are part of it, but I won’t count it until we step foot on the mainland continent.
Day 4
“Gooood morning, good morning to everybody!”
That’s how our daily overhead morning announcements all start (although it is spoken very quickly and with a strong Argentinian accent.) Today’s went on to say it was -2 degrees C, which is even less warm than yesterday.
We hopped on a zodiac to our first landing, the Cuverville Islands, which are a small group of islands next to the mainland, where we hiked up a small mountain. The view at the start was spectacular and ranks among the most memorable I’ve ever experienced. We couldn’t have asked for sunnier or better weather, and our guides say this has been the best weather of this season.
Penguins everywhere, of course.
Later in the day we set out for our first landing on mainland Antarctica. Here we approach our site, which has an abandoned base.
We finally set food on the continent…it’s Antarctica, baby!
Upon returning to our ship, the staff had a BBQ on the deck that served tasty choripan sandwiches with chimichurri sauce, which hit the spot so perfectly. This was truly an amazing day.
Day 5
We woke up as our ship was trying to pass through the Lemaire Channel, a very narrow passageway filled with icebergs. For the last two days, other ships have have tried to pass but were not successful. Unfortunately, we too had to turn around because of the conditions. Regardless, the view of the icy channel was beautiful.
Plan B was to visit Port Lockroy, which is a small former scientific station turned museum that is manned by several women from the United Kingdom Antarctic Heritage Trust. They live there for five months of the year restoring the place, educating visitors like us, and running the museum and post office. There’s also a gift shop, which is the only place in Antarctica where you can buy something.
Our afternoon landing was at the nearby Danco Island. Here I am on this very Antarctic day standing next to a whale skeleton.
Penguins are very polite, and apparently they bow to one another before they mate. I decided to give it a shot and see where it got me. Oh hello Mrs. Penguin!
Back on the ship were treated to a great Christmas Eve dinner of roast duck (but between you and me, I think it was penguin. There are lots of them around.) A fun night of celebration and music and drinking soon followed in the lounge. Then suddenly we went from Antarctica to MANtarctica:
Oh, and Wilkie found a husband.
Day 6: Christmas Day
“Gooood morning, good morning to um…ok”. Click.
Our morning announcement took multiple tries as our expedition leader may have been a little hung over from the previous night’s partying…as were most passengers. The dining hall was half empty at breakfast, and Wilkie didn’t even get up for our first landing. Here I am high on a cliff overlooking the glacier surrounding Neko Bay, with our ship in the distance and me wishing you all a Merry Christmas.
When I got back at noon Wilkie was finally awake, and we exchanged Christmas gifts. I got him a season of the Big Bang Theory on DVD…and he got me this.
In the afternoon we went for iceberg tours on the zodiacs. Mine was one of the first to return to the ship, and once we were back up on deck, we were told to look down as there were two Minke whales playing with some of the remaining zodiacs. Minke whales are the smallest of the whales, typically no more than 10 meters long (yeah, metric system, son). They are very playful and were circling the zodiacs for at least ten minutes.
We got yet another Christmas treat after dinner when a group of humpback whales appeared near our ship and gave us a show for almost an hour. Normally I’m not into whales, but these guys were great.
Merry Christmas!
Day 7
Pull up a chair. Let me educate you, peoples. Not all penguins are the same, even though it might appear that way at first glance. There are three species of penguin in the region of Antarctica we’re visiting. There are the Adelie and Chinstrap penguins (it’s pretty obvious why the Chinstrap is so named):
Those two are not very common. The most common one, and by far my favorite, is the Gentoo penguin:
Anyway, our first landing of the day was at the Hydrurga Rocks, a small landing at the entrance of the Gerlache Strait. We got to see both Adelie and Chinstrap penguins here. Our second landing was at the Mikkleson Harbor, which is a small bay in the southern side of Trinity Island. There are lots of Gentoos here, and sadly, this will be the last time we’ll see them on this trip. These penguins were so entertaining to watch and were definitely the highlight of my trip. Goodbye friends.
They didn’t even bother looking for the photo.
In other news, I’m getting a litle tired of the cold. The daytime temperatures aren’t too extreme (typically right around 0 degrees C) but with the wind chill it’s much worse. Although, being an American might be making me a wimp. I was talking with a Russian guy here on a particularly snowy and freezing day, commenting how cold it was. He replied “Dees? Dees is warm. I veel go for walk now without hat.”
Day 8
Time for our cruise to start returning back to South America. First, though, we stopped by Deception Island, which is the top of an old volcano that filled with water. But because waters were choppy, we moved to Half Moon Island for our final landing of the trip. We saw more ice, water, penguins, and seals…but more importantly we did this:
The water was 1 degree C.
Remember all those gifts we received earlier this trip — the calm Drake Lake, our beautiful sunny first day, all the great whale sightings? Well it’s now time for payback. Forecasts call for very windy conditions through the Drake Passage, and thus very choppy waters. Upon hearing this, many passengers freaked out and got quite dramatic.
A few of us, however, put a more positive spin on it … because when life gives you lemons, you make the lemons vomit. We started a bet where you chip in one dollar, don’t take any seasickness pills, and the person who didn’t vomit at the end of the trip won all the money. I got permission from the captain and announced it on the overhead PA system. People loved the idea, and about 25 joined. I even made a big sign for our lounge room, with people crossing off their names as they dropped out. Guess who was the first one out, just ten minutes into the game?
Turns out I get seasick!
Day 9
Waters: Choppy
Morale: Medium
Things aren’t looking good, peoples.
Large waves (8 meters high) are thrashing this boat every few seconds.
It’s an effort just sitting upright. Walking and eating are even harder. Few people are showing up for meals, and sick bags are being used up all around the boat.
And yup, people are dropping out of the Great Drake Challenge.
Day 10
Last night was the worst night of sleep this entire trip for everybody. We were all thrown around like rag dolls. Thankfully we had railings on the side of our bed, otherwise everyone would have ended up on the floor.
They say we should be out of the Drake Passage later today.
That’s good because morale is dropping quickly.
Day 11
“An Antarctic expedition is the worst way to have the best time of your life.”
We are back in South America, safe and sound.
This experience has been one of a kind. Getting there is no small feat, the weather is oftentimes unbearable, and many places are simply dangerous … but once you’re there, you’ll be rewarded with sights and animals and scenery you won’t find anywhere else on earth. Anyone with an interest in travel, photography, or cold weather should seriously consider doing this trip once in their life. It is worth every minute and every penny to earn this passport stamp:
Thanks for following along, everyone!
Travel Journal: Ushuaia
Hello from the southernmost city in the world!
We arrived here in Ushuaia and were ecstatic to hear that our booking company found us another Antarctica cruise. This was extremely exciting news, especially since our new cruise runs close to the same days as our original one. Our new ship is named the Ushuaia (creative, huh) and it’s a smaller boat, with a capacity of 88. But we’re still embarking/disembarking from Ushuaia, still going for ten days, and most importantly still planning for lots of penguins.
The city of Ushuaia is a small, peaceful town and a nice change from the big cities we’ve already been on this trip. Its main role is to act as the key access point for the South Atlantic and Antarctica. Here is a view of part of the port, at 11pm. Incidentally it stays light outside until about 11:30pm, which confuses my simple mind.
Looking down on the town during the day:
Because Ushuaia is the southernmost city in the world, there are many other records being set here on a daily basis. Here is a sampling.
This is the southernmost beer produced in the world:
This is the southernmost Goodyear shop in the world:
This is the southernmost haircut in the world:
This is the southernmost restaurant sign insulting your mother in the world:
And this is the southernmost conversation with a penguin in the world:
It certainly is exciting to witness such milestones.
—–
(To anyone at a certain southern California cath conference…you’re welcome.)
—–
OK peoples, I’m off to Antarctica tomorrow. There is no internet aboard the ship, so I’ll talk to you if/when I return!
Travel Journal: Rio de Janeiro 3
We’ve spent the last several days enjoying Rio in bright sunshine. Unfortunately it’s been pouring rain non-stop for the last two days, but luckily we already got to visit Rio’s main attractions.
Rio de Janeiro’s most identifiable landmark is Cristo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer), a 130-foot statue of Christ set atop a mountain overlooking the entire city. If you look up from almost anywhere in the city you can see it in the distance.
We rode to the top of the mountain in a taxi, as the train that usually runs up there “ran out of energy” that day (apparently Newton’s laws don’t work everyday in Brazil). Once at the top, you see the big man himself as well as all the idiots taking photos like this:
All the idiots…
Jesus Christ, what an amazing statue.
—–
One day while exploring the variety of unique neighborhoods in Rio, we found ourselves in Lapa, which features the Lapa Stairs. They don’t look like much when viewed from above:
But from below they look pretty nice decorated with lots of colorful tiles.
—–
One morning we hopped into this cool Land Rover…
…and drove to the top of this mountain…
…saw this ramp overlooking the city and water…
…and then jumped off of it.
Travel Journal: Rio de Janeiro 2
Holy crap.
It began when a girl invited us to a street party at a favela. She was an American college student studying Latin American music and was invited by one of her connections, one who lives in a favela. Let’s call him Christopher. And let’s call her Laila, because, well that’s her real name.
Even though we knew well what favelas were, we decided to attend for the sake of doing as the locals do. I comforted myself by noticing that many local hotels were advertising similar favela funk parties…so how dangerous could they be if entire groups of tourists were attending?
Apparently there was a slight difference. Some favelas are “pacified”, meaning that there is a strong police and military presence enforcing peace and the law — some have even made the news very recently. The vast majority (there are >600 favelas in Rio) are unpacified, and thus keeping the peace is left unto to the favelas themselves. The hotel-organized parties were at the few pacified favelas. The one we’d be going to, however, was not. I comforted myself by believing that it’d be unlikely for anyone to harass two American tourists. I also deemed Christopher as somehwat trustworthy if Laila trusted him, and Laila herself she was American, and a student at a semi-reputable American college no less.
That night at 10pm we met Laila, who took us to meet Christopher and another guy. Christopher was British and living and working here as a photojournalist, and the other was a local who lives in a nearby favela. The commute involed a subway ride to the end of the line, a long trek through what appeared to be an uninhabited neighborhood, and the eventual arrival at the outskirts of the favela. Then Christopher delivered terrible news when he said photos were strictly forbidden.
Streets slowly transformed into small, dark alleyways, which then became narrower and narrower. The buildings were small units the size of sheds, each two stories high and with no room between it and the neighboring unit. Streetlights disappeared and were replaced by random strings of blinking Christmas lights (probably there all year), over bar-covered windows. And every telephone pole contained masses of tangled wires knotted together and running across the alley, just 10 feet above our heads. Every minute a young kid whizzed by on a motorbike, and very few people were walking around. It seemed like the “projects” back home, but everything was smashed much closer together.
We finally reached the entrance to our destination. A large wall blocked the rest of the alley, except it didn’t fully reach the other side thus creating a door-sized passage to what lay beyond. At this entrance were two young guys: a friendly-looking grinning one was standing and the other was sitting and holding a large, clear plastic bag filled with money. Christopher handed a wad of cash to him and the standing guy invited us in. As I went in to shake his hand I noticed he was wearing a backpack…and a large machine gun. I took my hand back, soiled my pants just a little, and kept walking.
As an unpacified favela, police don’t even bother intruding. Not only are there not enough officers, but the alleys are too narrow for the police cars and too maze-like for non-residents to navigate. Thus there are designated people in the favela who carry the guns and maintain security. At this point we were notified of a few ground rules:
1) Do not fight. Girls who do get their hair and eyebrows chopped off on the spot; guys get beaten with wooden sticks until the sticks break.
2) If you want to hit on a girl, first ask if she has a boyfriend. (And if she says no, make damn sure she’s not lying, because if she is you’ll soon see a red laser dot swirling around your chest.)
Newly educated, we walked in. The other side of the wall turned out to be a massive wall of speakers. Because it was only midnight and the party hadn’t yet started, we walked down the street to look around. Along the way I saw at least a dozen kids all with big guns resting on their back. Christopher identified the one we saw earlier as an AK-47. As the night went on, we’d see uzis, M16s, bazookas, and one called a FAL. I’d never heard of it so he told me a little about it. (Double checking things on Wikipedia this morning, it turns out he was right, down to the size of its shell (7.6mm)) Also, there was an occasional sniper on the roof. All the gun-toters looked very young and seemed way too happy to have a big gun.
Meanwhile Christopher, although responsibly looking out for us, was checking his phone every 15 minutes and then wandering off for a few minutes. We didn’t know what he was doing until we caught him in an alley handing over a small baggie of some drug in exchange for some cash…to someone who looked no older than 14. He made a lot of deals that night. The San Diegan in me hoped it was meth; unfortunately it was only marijuana.
Hours passed and the street packed with young people, the wall of speakers started to blast Brazilian funk that that blew painful sound waves through your clothes and ear drums (far louder than any bar/club I’ve ever been to), more young kids were buying drugs, and of course more grinning people walked by with guns bigger than they were.
Christopher luckily stayed close by us the whole time, which is what kept the locals from harassing us. Had he stepped away for awhile, the situation would have become grim. This was City of God meets Training Day meet Hostel. Why did I watch that movie before I left?
Despite all this craziness though, I actually felt very safe the entire night. At least for these six hours everyone in the favela was very well behaved, no fights broke out, and the gun obsessed didn’t abuse any of their powers. (Well except for the very end. As we were marching out, a group of machine gun-strapping motorbikers drove by us and one of their guns was shoved inches from Wilkie’s face. Also on the way out, one laughing idiot with a drink in one hand and a shiny silver weapon in the other spun around in a goofy fit and his AK-47 practically entered my nose. First, in our country drinking and gunning is frowned upon. Second, please get your fucking machine gun out of my face!)
We left safely and without any new holes in our body. Looking back, this was an eye-opening and enlighting experience for me and everyone. I’d never seen this many guns loose on the streets before, and the best part was that no organized tour could have provided such a raw look into true favela life.
I’m now looking forward to the next time someone points a gun to my face so I can finally say “Sorry, this isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at my face.”
Travel Journal: Rio de Janeiro 1
Ola!
We are now in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. My initial thoughts about this country were not pleasant ones, and it began as early as applying for a visa. First, they make all applicants apply in person, and if you have a family member or friend apply for you, they charge you extra money. Next, they don’t allow married women to travel without her husband. Finally, they have strict instructions on your visa photo (with respect to what to wear, where to look, and lighting). They kindly provided a sample photo as an example:
So, I dutifully followed their instructions and had my photograph taken.
But now that I’m here, I’m actually loving this city. It’s a very beautiful and energetic place. From the long expanses of scenic coastline, to the friendliness of the locals (noticeably absent in Buenos Aires) and amazing cultural diversity and finally the hotness of the locals, this really might be the Cidade Maravilhosa (marvelous city).
The moment we arrived here, we went immediately to eat feijoada, a distinctly Brazilian stew composed of slowly-cooked black beans and a variety of meats that is traditionally served only on Saturdays, and is always served for two people. Also, it is usually enjoyed with a cold caipirinha (think of it as a Brazilian mojito).
We are staying in Ipanema, the cool kid’s neighborhood. It’s where the young and rich tend to live; unfortunately I’m neither, but I can play the part for a few days. I woke up early-ish this morning and went for a run. On Sundays, the street closest to the beach in Ipanema are closed for people to walk, run, bike, rollerblade, or walk their dog. This was my beautiful view.
Off to the beach for the rest of the day. So who are these men in speedos, and more importantly, why the heck am I taking a photo of them? This is the sport of futevolei and it is a very common sighting on the beach. It is essentially volleyball using only your feet, chest, and head. It looks incredibly difficult, and I can’t believe these people keep the ball in the air for as long as they do.
By the way, the people here are very serious about football/soccer… some people just walk around on the streets with a soccer ball. I’m not sure what they’ll do with it, but I’m already intimidated. Finally, as the afternoon winds down, I cool down with a refreshing agua de coco.
Peoples, this may be the last post from me … forever. A girl we met here invited us tonight to a party in a favella. Favellas are the shanty towns here, essentially slums that are run by drug lords. She claims it is for some journalistic piece she’s doing for back home in Boston. In the interest of doing what the locals do, we’re gonna go to it. A friend from back home predicted I’d get decapitated on this trip. Who knows, he might end up being right.
Travel Journal: Buenos Aires 3
Still having fun here in BA, although our one complaint is that it’s so damn hot here. The temperature is at least in the 80s or 90s every day, and the sun is bright and blazing until 7pm. I ran around the dikes today (that’s not code for anything; I simply went for a run around the long row of water-filled dikes) but had to wake up at 7am just to beat the heat. And Wilkie can’t take two bites of any meal, let alone walk one block, without beads of sweat forming over his entire face. My peoples are built for the desert, so I’m doing just fine (except that I’m not).
La Boca
La Boca is a unique neighborhood that lies at the southern end of Buenos Aires. It is known as a very blue collar area that is notorious for street crime against tourists, even in daylight. You may be safe on the current street, but just one street over might be a dangerous one. However, the neighborhood is also known for its colorful buildings and lively street scene.
La Boca is also home of the Boca Juniors, the Buenos Aires football (soccer) team. Here, just outside the stadium where they play, is a star on the ground for each of their current and former players. This is the star for probably their most well-known player, the now disgraced Diego Maradona.
Nightlife
Buenos Aires has a very thriving nightlife, unfortunately it starts so late! Dinner is typically eaten 10 or 11pm; if you go around 8 or 9pm, you’re more likely to be eating with other tourists (not that there’s anything wrong with that). And once a few hours haave passed after dinner, only then do the locals really go out. People here love live music and clubs. We got lucky and were able to watch a fantastic live performance by one of the very popular local bands:
Below is Milion (shown in front and from the back), an awesome lounge built inside a vacated 3-story mansion.
One night Wilkie and I decided to check out a club, but we had to kill several hours in various bars just waiting until 2am, when the clubs opened. Once 1am hit, we were yawning and struggling to remain energetic for this whole endeavor. After we completely ran out of topics to talk about, couldn’t drink anymore, and got tired of each other’s faces, to stay awake we resorted to playing hangman with crayons on the tablecloth. The bar was not amused. Anyway, once we got inside the club, it was so packed we just left for home (not before having a few drinks, of course).
(fans of the show Big Bang Theory will be amused by something here)
In other news, when Argentinians ask where you’re from, they don’t like it if you respond “America.” Apparently South Americans think they’re from “America” too. The nerve…
Travel Journal: Buenos Aires 2
Wilkie went to Uruguay for a day trip today, and I went on a surprisingly entertaining but interesting walking tour. It was put on by bafreetour.com, a great organization that puts on free walking tours of Buenos Aires. Tours are offered daily, and anyone who is interested shows up here, at the plaza outside the congress building, at 11am.
Our tour guide (below, center, in green) was a very animated and energetic girl who knew more about a city than anyone I’ve encountered. This is our group, in front of a statue that looks like Rodin’s Thinker, which is in front of Argentina’s congress building.
While strictly not part of the tour, we saw this tall building with Evita’s face painted on it, and on the way back, the opposite side of the building had another picture of her, this time with her singing with a microphone. Or, as someone from the group said, “that dude eating a sandwich.”
Below is the Palacio Barolo building. It wasn’t particularly impressive, but then I learned it was originally built to house the body of Dante (as in Dante Alighieri, of Divine Comedy fame); I’m reading The Inferno right now so I actually found it timely and interesting. His body ended up remaining in Italy, but the building was still built according to the Divine Comedy “standards”: it is 100 meters high (one meter for each canto of the Divine Comedy) and the 22 floors are divided into three sections, one each representing hell, purgatory, and heaven. Neat. OK let’s move on.
This is the Plaza de Mayo, the main square in Buenos Aires, which since the revolution in the 1800s, has been a spot of intense political protest. The photo below shows some structure surrounded by white symbols on the ground. The symbol is the shawl of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, a group that to this day still meets here every Thursday to protest the 1970s military regime that made 30000 people — anyone with real or suspected leftist ideas — disappear (they were kidnapped, tortured, then murdered). They are known as Mothers since some of these 30000 were babies who were simply related to the suspected activitists.
Finally, pictured below, is the street leading to the obelisco. Or, as I like to call it, a miniature Washington Monument. Weighing in at a whopping 200 feet high, this is the main source of pride of portenos (Buenos Aires residents).
Overall this was a really cool experience, and I feel the need to plug bafreetour.com again, since they only operate on tips and rely on word-of-mouth. Join them next time you’re in BA!
Travel Journal: Buenos Aires 1
Hola!
We arrived safe and sound to Buenos Aires, but not without Wilkie having his fun. At the airport he thought it would be funny to yell “terrorist!” near the security checkpoints. And ticket lines. And bathrooms. I was about to board my first flight, and even though we both checked in together, just as I was about to step onto the plane I was directed to a special desk where they wanted lots of extra confirmation of my identity. And going through security I was randomly — but as expected — pulled aside to undergo more thorough screening. They locked me in a phonebooth-sized chamber, wiped a wet rag over my hands and arms (I still don’t know why), and then, um, searched me. I guess I should now reset the clock on how long it’s been since I’ve been with a woman.
Wilkie and I aren’t on good terms for now. Also I want to revise a statement from my last post where I said “Wilkie is a friend from college… “. That should now just read “Wilkie is a guy who went to college…”
Recoleta Cemetary
We visited the Recoleta Cemetary, which contains the impressive graves of Buenos Aires’ most rich, elite, and well-connected. This is a city of the dead, as each memorial site contains either a huge statue or mausoleum. Past presidents, military heroes, and celebrities are buried here, and the living are dying to secure their place here.
This is also where Evita (aka Eva Peron, the glamorized wife of a former Argentinian dictator) is buried, and people are still leaving flowers for her today.
Tango
Tango defines Argentina. Argentinians are born knowing how to tango, and you’ll find tango shows everywhere from theaters to street shows. We decided to go to a tango show, and ended up at Cafe Tortoni, a small cafe with an intimate feel that has been around Buenos Aires for over 150 years. It was a great and lively show, but unfortunately they were very strict about not allowing any photos by the audience … so here it is before the show began.
Never fear, though. The next morning I found some street tango dancers and skillfully squeezed the guy out…and myself in. I don’t think she even noticed.
Looking good in those shorts, Dr. Schricker.
Introducing Antarctica
It’s time to travel again, peoples. This year’s destination? Earth’s coldest, windiest, and driest continent … Antarctica. However, before reaching the southernmost continent, we will first drop by South America and play around for awhile.
The idea to travel to Antarctica was planted realistically in my head for the first time during my trip to Indonesia earlier this year when a Canadian traveler I met said he’d just visited the continent. And if a Canadian can do it, anyone can … so here I am.
Itinerary
The travel plan is as follows:
1) Buenos Aires, Argentina — A country filled with great steak and Malbec.
2) Rio de Janeiro, Brazil — Paradise and world-famous beaches.
3) Ushuaia, Argentina — The southernmost city in the world and where we embark on our ship.
4) Antarctica — Home of the penguin.
This trip takes us to the sunny beaches of Brazil, but then a few days later to the freezing Antarctic ice. Such variety in climates makes for an exciting trip but also for difficulty packing the appropriate clothes for each place. I’m sad to say that for the first time I need to leave my trusty backpack at home and instead travel with, yes, a suitcase. Now all I need is a wife and 2 1/2 kids.
Participants
Here’s a thorough list of everyone going, including photos, names, and nicknames (each with a nod to our respective ethnic backgrounds)
 |
 |
||||
| Wilkie “Pu-Pu Platter” Yu | Amir “The Camel” Schricker |
Wilkie is a friend from college who lives in the SF bay area, and I’m lucky that he has the time, travel interest, and resources (he owns an iPod) to join me.
Preparation
To get excited for Antarctica I watched “March of the Penguins”, and now I really want to pet one (without being attacked) … maybe even bring one home. Then to learn about Brazil, people told me to watch “Hostel”. I did, and two things: 1) The movie had absolutely nothing to do with Brazil, and 2) I’m afraid to leave home now.
Next, I had to re-stock my first-aid kit. I went a little crazy with the Immodium (anti-diarrhea) pills this time; I bought a family pack of 24 from Target, only to realize I already had a pack of 12 at home … so here I sit with 36 pills. Obviously I hope to remain healthy for the duration of my trip, but the thrill-seeker in me hopes for terrible GI problems so I can take advantage of my excellent preparation skills. Or maybe Wilkie will get diarrhea; that would be the best of both worlds. I also loaded up on Ativan and Ambien…if I do this right, I’ll be asleep for the entire month of December.
To sum up
This trip should be … legendary. See you on the other side.
Tahoe Reunion
After nearly ten years, our crew (which now includes a few wives) met up in its entirety for an awesome reunion in Lake Tahoe. The weekend was filled with eating and drinking, as well as hiking, gambling, sleeping, and playing.
Here we are the first night we arrived, going to town on all the food we bought — two shopping carts full.
Preparing the pepper-infused tequila.
Playing the greatest beach game ever devised, disks and sticks, but more affectionately known as dicks and sticks.
Hiking, getting lost, finding our way again, and then spotting wolves.
Halloween in Tahoe. From left to right: international soccer/football player, Richard Simmons (me), Indian Ninja, medieval knight, police officer.
Great times!
Cantina Amir y Amir
The other Amir and I decided to throw a party to celebrate the graduating interventional fellows as well as showcase our combined cooked powers.
After spending many hours preparing 20 limes, 7 chickens, 5 pounds of carne asada, 4 pounds of braised pork, 3 gallons of sangria, and 2 sombreros, this officially became an eat-fest.
Amir y Amir, in uniform.
People crowding around to get the good food.
Some people:
Some more people:
Overall, a huge success. Crushed it!
Post-Indonesia Thoughts
I had a great time in Indonesia, and it’s definitely a country to which I’d return in the future. A few post-trip thoughts:
- I was surprised how friendly the Indonesians people were. However, much of this was probably because I was expecting the people to be similar to the rude, unfriendly, and aggressive Moroccans I encountered on my last trip. How pleasant it was to turn down people on the street soliciting taxis, services, etc. just once and have them retreat immediately … and with a polite “thank you.” Morocco, you on my shitlist.
- I finally finished Eat Pray Love. While the last section (”Love”) was enjoyable to read, probably because it was describing Bali while I was there, the first two were difficult to endure. She dedicated only about three paragraphs to eating in Italy (out of 100 pages), and then her account of India was monotonous and too unbelievable. She conveniently achieved all her goals: to perfect meditation, learn to love a dreaded morning prayer, and also find God (spoiler alert: He’s everywhere apparently). How convenient. Reading those sections of Eat Pray Love made me want to Choke Gag Barf.
- This country was committed to not letting me sleep in. If I wasn’t woken up by a rooster at 5am, it was by the early morning sunrise prayers wailing out in Arabic. I kinda forgot this was an Islamic country.
- On the topic of traveling solo, that concept is only strange for Americans. You encounter a lot of European travelers when you go international, and none of them will ask “why are you traveling alone?”, mostly because half of them are traveling alone. Answering these questions gets annoying quickly. While I still prefer traveling with a buddy, there definitely are benefits to going solo.
- For the entire two weeks I was in Indonesia, I really feel I was the only person there who did not smoke. Well, me and the children. (Well, me and most children).
End of Indonesia
Back home now, safe and sound after 18 hours of flying.
Thanks to everyone who read along. Till next time … (I’ve got big plans, people, big plans)
Trip Log: Bali 5
It’s the final countdown. I’m back in Bali for 24 hours since my flight home departs tomorrow afternoon. I’m in Ubud (old friend) and while I’m in no rush, I am on a mission: to hit up three specific restaurants before I leave. I was ready to set out immediately, as it was noon and I was famished — afterall, I haven’t eaten lunch since yesterday.
(While I refer to all these places as restaurants, they really are warungs, simple open-air eateries that typically make one dish really well.)
Restaurant #1: Nasi Ayam Kedewatan
Recall this place from last week, where I walked 2.5 miles there — and 2.5 miles back — only to find them out of food. By hitting this place at noon I’d avoid that rookie mistake today. I arrived and saw it was full of food, including the famed sate lilit, minced chicken sate that is an order of magnitude tastier than any other I’ve had here. The chicken seemed doubly ground, filled with spices and lemongrass, molden onto thick bamboo skewers, and then grilled. This was also the first eatery I’ve ever been to where the server picked up the food not with utensils, but her bare hands. I started with four skewers (but ordered two more afterwards) and another tasty dish she just referred to as “chicken”. You may see fork and spoon here, but rest assured I dove right in with my hands.
Restaurant #2: Warung Igelanca
This is a temple for noodle-lovers, and being a noodle-lover I had to eat here. Actually, re-eat here, since I ate here last week. I ordered their standard, a noodle stir-fry in a curry sauce, and when it arrived I loaded it full of sambal (chili sauce), took a table near the street, and ate that big bowl of noodles as hundreds of motorbikes buzzed by. I was starting to get a little full at this point.
Restaurant #3: Bambu
The food sweats started hitting me, so I needed to go home and nap. My planned 15-minute nap turned into two hours, but afterwards I was ready to continue the battle, at Bambu. They serve good traditional Balinese dishes, and of note are the lawar (coconut and green bean salad), ayam pelalah (spicy shredded chicken with chili and lime), and sambal goreng udang (prawns in a tangy coconut-milk sauce). I really was torn which one to get, so I ordered all three. Not my wisest moment perhaps, but it was my last day here. As one dish was brought to the table, I took my time eating it, and awaited the next one. Three dishes and three bowls of rice later, I was very satisfied, and full … and maybe a little bit regretful of ordering all of them. I definitely could be banished to the third circle of Hell (gluttony) for this behavior. The spicy shredded chicken:
Walking back home — very slowly and also slightly hunched over — I sensed trouble. I felt … something … and realized this was the real deal. I picked up the pace, and by the time I got within view of my place I was nearly sprinting. This was taking away my enjoyment of the food by a lot. Needing my room key A-SAP, I asked the hotel boy to get me the key quickly, but he was shining his motorcycle calmly and without a care in the world. I urged him to hurry and he took his sweet time until I finally had to yell “TOILET!” He tossed over the key, I ran into my room, threw off my clothes (sorry, it’s what I do in really hot weather, a la George Costanza), scrambled to find something to read (gotta do that too) but was unsuccessful, and so I just ran into the bathroom.
Now, I’m relaxed as can be … and, despite not having proper reading material, still a little smarter. I learned all there is to know about Procter & Gamble from the shaving cream bottle, and I also discovered my bathroom has a mini-fridge.
I think it’s time I go home now. USA home, that is.
Trip Log: Bunaken 4
Sadly it’s time to leave Bunaken … but not without working for it. I paid a nice sum of euros for my resort to arrange a boat to take me back to the mainland, so I expected a red carpet rolled out to my front door. Well, I thought I thought.
Someone arrived to fetch me and right away offered to take my backpack. Normally I don’t like to give my work to other people, but today I felt generous and so I handed it right over … but in exchange he handed me two big empty water-cooler jugs to carry. Apparently this is the boat that takes the recyclables from Bunaken to the mainland, so I was expected to help. No big deal, so I grabbed them.
We then walked into the jungle – I thought we’d walk towards the water, but whatever — when another man joined us, this guy carrying eight of these huge jugs. I felt guilty for carrying only two, so I offered to take two of his. Up to four jugs now … no big deal still.
Finally the guys decide to head towards water. Because it was low tide, the boat couldn’t come up directly to land, and so to reach it we had to walk into the water. But first came the quicksand. I walked towards the water and immediately sunk down to my shins. I tore my feet out of the ground but the sand had swallowed my flip-flop, and so I had to put my four jugs down (and being empty they started floating away) and sent in my hand after my flip-flop. After rescuing it, I took both of them off and carried them in hand. Some sand-dwelling parasite must have latched on to my bare feet and is now inside me.
I ventured on, still in quicksand, watching the water get deeper with each step. Soon I was in a mess of mangroves, seaweed, and starfish, with the water now up to my groin — of my normal clothes, not swimming trunks. The only thing I cared about was my camera, so I used whatever fingers I had left to hold up my left pant sleeve; I let my right pant sleeve — with my money– suffer. Things I’m holding now: four huge jugs, two flip-flops, and one pant leg. The locals found me amusing to watch.
Once I got to the boat I finally emptied my arms … but then was put to more work moving cases of beer. Ten of them. No problem, I thought, since empty bottles can’t be too heavy. Turns out these were full bottles, and when I picked one up the cardboard was so soggy from the rain, 24 green bottles of Bintang came crashing down. All this for a ride to the mainland.
One hard-earned boat ride later, I now sit confined to my hotel room, waiting for my pants and money, spread out on the bed, as they try to dry.
Trip Log: Bunaken 3
Some additional diving-related stories.
- More on that underwater wreck that we explored. The ship was named the Myoken, a Japanese transport ship that was used during World War II. It was sunk off the coast of Sulawesi by the US Navy by the USS Swordfish in 1942, using a torpedo that apparently didn’t detonate, based on available evidence and leftover wreckage material. Getting the historical background makes it so much more interesting when seeing it in person.
- By far the most beautiful sight of the trip was just after I finished one of my dives. I was floating on the surface, waiting for the boat to pick me up when I spotted — at about 100 feet away — a big fin coming out of the water. And then another one. I nearly shat my pants (ok, wetsuit) because I thought they were sharks and this was gonna be it for me … Indonesia was where it would all end. But then I saw 5, 10, and then maybe 20 more fins, all moving in an arc-like motion above water. I realized this was a small school of dolphins traveling at the surface, in and out of the water. It was the most amazing sight, being next to this large group of dolphins swimming so gracefully and beautifully through the water. I just wish I had my camera with me.
- Speaking of soiling my wetsuit, a few minutes into my first dive I realized I had forgotten to pee … so, I just went in my wetsuit. Yeah, we do that. And there’s no sensation in the world that’s simultaneously so soothing but so utterly disgusting as the warmth that fills up your wetsuit during this activity. (I just realized this is the second time this trip I’ve described peeing on myself. I should probably stop that — both doing it and writing about it.)