In a few short days I will set foot on American soil for the first time in over a year. Three weeks along the coast of California. In many ways the idea of that is hard for me to comprehend.
For over a year I've been disconnected from many of the people, places and things that have helped shape who I am today. For the majority of my time in Argentina when I would be returning home for a visit remained up in the air. Because of that uncertainty of return I learned to hold the things that I missed most at a cautious distance. I think of it as a survival technique more than anything. Buenos Aires is a vast flat noisy concrete city. If I constantly thought about how much I missed the Sierras in California and the solitude that can be found within them, my mindset here would be clouded, heavy and lack the focus that would enable me to take in all that is beautiful and different here.
As months went by that cautious distance became a way of life. I learned to muffle my longings, i.e. eating good sushi, having Thomas' Honey Wheat English muffins for breakfast , slicing open a juicy pomegranate or seeing the face of an old friend on a bar stool next to me. It never meant those longings weren't there or that I didn't invest time into staying connected with friends, but I had to choose how tight I'd let the grasp of those things be on me day to day in order to maintain the health and stability of my own smile. When we purchased our airline tickets about a month ago that wall of cautious distance began to slowly come down. I started thinking more and more about all that I missed because I knew soon I would have access to again.
For all the beauty and growth that has come to me during my time in Argentina, it does not negate the fact that after a year away I miss home (the U.S) something fierce. To be around the culture that flows innately through my blood, the language that drips from my pen, the landscape that's worn out the soles my favorite brown boots, and the friends that road-trip through my highway of memories.
I wonder when I return if there will be parts of home I won't recognize, or if home won't recognize parts of me. I imagine on some level both those things will be true and that is how things are supposed to be. Nothing is static except change. I also imagine this first trip home will be the most moving just because it is 'the first' and I have no previous experience that I can relate to it.
What I wonder probably most though is what it will be like to step off the plane in SFO, see a friend for the first time in more than a year, and know that I'm home.
Currently Reading:
Cannery Row
by John Steinbeck
Currently Listening To:
Song: California Stars
Artist: Jeff Tweedy
Links:
Artwork
Facebook
Twitter
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
One Year in Buenos Aires
Exactly one year ago from July 5th I left the United States to give this whole 'living abroad thing' a shot. I can't say at the time I really knew all that I was getting into but I guess at heart of it all that was kind of the point. To enter the abyss of the unknown. To attempt to see the world from a different perspective. To immerse myself into the art world of Buenos Aires. To learn.
When I look back it doesn't seem like a year. More like 2 or 3. It hasn't always been easy either. In fact there were times, like when we were living amidst the concrete dust of a never-ending remodel, that I'd climb atop the water tower on our rooftop, lie on my back despondent, and wonder what the fuck we were doing here. As Winston Churchill said though,"If you're going through hell, keep going." And we did.
Living here has given me a new appreciation for the word immigrant, and how difficult it can be to be one. I look at my Grandparents and Great Grandparents, who moved to the U.S. from Poland and Slovakia before the time of internet, email and Skype, and marvel at the spirit they must have held to be able to leave their homeland, venture out across the Atlantic into a big unknown world, all while knowing their were most likely on a one way trip. If they were around today a million questions I would have for them. They spoke little or no English, yet just like countless other immigrants, each played their own small part in making America, a country of immigrants, what it is today.
During my year in Buenos Aires I have also learned to live without certain things. DVD's and books have taken the place of cable TV. Email and Skype are my cell phone. Buses, taxis, the subway, my bike and my feet have taken the place of driving a car. I still find it hard to believe though that I haven't driven in over a year, especially with how much I love a good roadtrip. Eventually, I know one day I'll have these things back again in varying degrees, but I imagine I'll hold them in a different light next time around.
Definitely the high-water mark of our year here came this past Friday, July 3rd. After 9 months of remodeling the place we bought, followed by 2 straight months of me sitting in front of my easels, we opened the doors to our home/gallery, Gallery 24B. It was a special night, one I will not soon forget. The perfect culmination to one year of living here. We figure around 100 people came through our doors, many to see my art, some to see our home, and a few who had no idea why they were there, but were willing to celebrate anyway. I think of it as the pinnacle of our time here thus far, but for me, it was the realization of a vision that's lived a life that's extended much longer than one year's time. I think back to when I was a kid. There were two things that made sense to me more than anything else - creating and exploring. I loved getting lost in my ice cream bucket of crayons as much I liked getting lost in the corn fields that surrounded my childhood home. That desire for exploration, both creatively and geographically, grew more with each passing year. Thus to be on the top a building in the Southern Hemisphere, standing in a room filled with my art and people who had come to see it, was indeed a surreal moment. I tried to talk to each person that made it out that night, and lost much of my voice in the process.
the calm before the storm | see more pics from opening night at Gallery 24B here.
photo by Beatrice Murch | see more pics from opening night at Gallery 24B here.
What now? I know Buenos Aires is not my train's last stop and I have a longing to be back in the States, but I don't feel like I've done everything I've set out to do yet in Argentina either. I do feel like the most difficult part of my time here is behind me though, and that's a good feeling. There are still many parts of the culture I want to see and experience, and my Spanish definitely still needs quite a bit of work. More than anything though, I want to keep painting and getting work out into the world, and I know this is a good place to do it. A close friend of mine congratulated me yesterday for climbing this mountain, a mountain that's taunted me for so many years. I told him that indeed the mountain has long laughed at me, however somewhere along the way I learned to laugh back, and once I did it's power over me shrank with each passing day. What I've also come to learn though is that it is not a single mountain, but a range, and none in that range I climb alone. When someone where's my shirt, hangs my work in there home, or merely passes on words of advice or support to me, they climb it with me. Right now my eyes are on the next mountain - making a living off of this stuff...and yes, I'm doing my best to laugh at this mountain too.
Staring at the city from atop the water tower above our apartment.
A big shout out to Annie, my partner in crime through all this here in B.A.
No one deserves my thanks more than you babe.
Currently Reading:
Interviews with American Artists by David Sylvester
Currently Listening To:
Song: Fuck Was I
Artist: Jenny Owen Young (myspace) (itunes)
Links:
Artwork
Facebook
Twitter
When I look back it doesn't seem like a year. More like 2 or 3. It hasn't always been easy either. In fact there were times, like when we were living amidst the concrete dust of a never-ending remodel, that I'd climb atop the water tower on our rooftop, lie on my back despondent, and wonder what the fuck we were doing here. As Winston Churchill said though,"If you're going through hell, keep going." And we did.
Living here has given me a new appreciation for the word immigrant, and how difficult it can be to be one. I look at my Grandparents and Great Grandparents, who moved to the U.S. from Poland and Slovakia before the time of internet, email and Skype, and marvel at the spirit they must have held to be able to leave their homeland, venture out across the Atlantic into a big unknown world, all while knowing their were most likely on a one way trip. If they were around today a million questions I would have for them. They spoke little or no English, yet just like countless other immigrants, each played their own small part in making America, a country of immigrants, what it is today.
During my year in Buenos Aires I have also learned to live without certain things. DVD's and books have taken the place of cable TV. Email and Skype are my cell phone. Buses, taxis, the subway, my bike and my feet have taken the place of driving a car. I still find it hard to believe though that I haven't driven in over a year, especially with how much I love a good roadtrip. Eventually, I know one day I'll have these things back again in varying degrees, but I imagine I'll hold them in a different light next time around.
Definitely the high-water mark of our year here came this past Friday, July 3rd. After 9 months of remodeling the place we bought, followed by 2 straight months of me sitting in front of my easels, we opened the doors to our home/gallery, Gallery 24B. It was a special night, one I will not soon forget. The perfect culmination to one year of living here. We figure around 100 people came through our doors, many to see my art, some to see our home, and a few who had no idea why they were there, but were willing to celebrate anyway. I think of it as the pinnacle of our time here thus far, but for me, it was the realization of a vision that's lived a life that's extended much longer than one year's time. I think back to when I was a kid. There were two things that made sense to me more than anything else - creating and exploring. I loved getting lost in my ice cream bucket of crayons as much I liked getting lost in the corn fields that surrounded my childhood home. That desire for exploration, both creatively and geographically, grew more with each passing year. Thus to be on the top a building in the Southern Hemisphere, standing in a room filled with my art and people who had come to see it, was indeed a surreal moment. I tried to talk to each person that made it out that night, and lost much of my voice in the process.
the calm before the storm | see more pics from opening night at Gallery 24B here.
photo by Beatrice Murch | see more pics from opening night at Gallery 24B here.
What now? I know Buenos Aires is not my train's last stop and I have a longing to be back in the States, but I don't feel like I've done everything I've set out to do yet in Argentina either. I do feel like the most difficult part of my time here is behind me though, and that's a good feeling. There are still many parts of the culture I want to see and experience, and my Spanish definitely still needs quite a bit of work. More than anything though, I want to keep painting and getting work out into the world, and I know this is a good place to do it. A close friend of mine congratulated me yesterday for climbing this mountain, a mountain that's taunted me for so many years. I told him that indeed the mountain has long laughed at me, however somewhere along the way I learned to laugh back, and once I did it's power over me shrank with each passing day. What I've also come to learn though is that it is not a single mountain, but a range, and none in that range I climb alone. When someone where's my shirt, hangs my work in there home, or merely passes on words of advice or support to me, they climb it with me. Right now my eyes are on the next mountain - making a living off of this stuff...and yes, I'm doing my best to laugh at this mountain too.
Staring at the city from atop the water tower above our apartment.
A big shout out to Annie, my partner in crime through all this here in B.A.
No one deserves my thanks more than you babe.
Currently Reading:
Interviews with American Artists by David Sylvester
Currently Listening To:
Song: Fuck Was I
Artist: Jenny Owen Young (myspace) (itunes)
Links:
Artwork
Monday, June 29, 2009
And so it begins... (evil laughs)
The time has come for me to begin sharing my artwork in a much bigger way. This week I am officially releasing the Orange Gorilla from his cage and out into the world.
The first part of that release starts now with the roll out of my new Jimmy Danko Orange Gorilla website. Check it out.
The second part of the release is a part I hope you all to be part of. Almost exactly one year ago I moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina. During that year's time I've helped design and build not just our home, but a gallery for my art on the top floor of a 24 story building. We call it our Piece Of the Sky - Gallery 24B. This Friday I invite you all to join us as we open the doors to it for the first time.
In preparation for this occasion I've created the very first Dank T-Shirt - Necesito Más Mono (I Need More Monkey). It's available on my website right now (U$S15 - Mens & Womens: click here to purchase) or you can get one directly from me here at the gallery (50 pesos - Mens & Womens).
If a magical monkey t-shirt wasn't enough awesomeness for you, Friday I will also be unveiling a few brand new paintings. It's going to be an insane night. Not just a night to share my art and the Orange Gorilla, but a night for Annie and I to share what we've created here in this big crazy South American city. So please join us to throw one back and toast to a new chapter. Invite your friends. Invite your friends' friends. Spread the word to anyone you think might want to come check it out. We want to see our place bouncing and alive with friends and strangers alike.
Special Thanks: I want to say thank you to all of you who have supported, guided and encouraged me in the pursuit of my artistic endeavors. What ever doors I walk through, I walk through with your energy in my thoughts and in my bones.
Peace and much ape love,
Jimmy Danko
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jimmydanko
Twitter: http://twitter.com/JimmyDanko
*Please forward this on to anyone you think might be interested in checking out my artwork or coming to Opening Night. Muchas Gracias.
For more of how we ended up in Buenos Aires check out the first post of Harmony and Dissonance.
The first part of that release starts now with the roll out of my new Jimmy Danko Orange Gorilla website. Check it out.
The second part of the release is a part I hope you all to be part of. Almost exactly one year ago I moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina. During that year's time I've helped design and build not just our home, but a gallery for my art on the top floor of a 24 story building. We call it our Piece Of the Sky - Gallery 24B. This Friday I invite you all to join us as we open the doors to it for the first time.
In preparation for this occasion I've created the very first Dank T-Shirt - Necesito Más Mono (I Need More Monkey). It's available on my website right now (U$S15 - Mens & Womens: click here to purchase) or you can get one directly from me here at the gallery (50 pesos - Mens & Womens).
If a magical monkey t-shirt wasn't enough awesomeness for you, Friday I will also be unveiling a few brand new paintings. It's going to be an insane night. Not just a night to share my art and the Orange Gorilla, but a night for Annie and I to share what we've created here in this big crazy South American city. So please join us to throw one back and toast to a new chapter. Invite your friends. Invite your friends' friends. Spread the word to anyone you think might want to come check it out. We want to see our place bouncing and alive with friends and strangers alike.
Special Thanks: I want to say thank you to all of you who have supported, guided and encouraged me in the pursuit of my artistic endeavors. What ever doors I walk through, I walk through with your energy in my thoughts and in my bones.
Peace and much ape love,
Jimmy Danko
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jimmydanko
Twitter: http://twitter.com/JimmyDanko
*Please forward this on to anyone you think might be interested in checking out my artwork or coming to Opening Night. Muchas Gracias.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Gallery 24B
Since the beginning of May I've been holding the day July 3rd in my head as the launch of Gallery 24B. What is Gallery 24B?
When we moved to Buenos Aires way back on July 5th of 2008, our intentions were to open a joint yoga and art studio. The months that followed had us looking at one business space after another while simultaneously learning in detail about the mystifying bureaucracies that go behind running a business here. It wasn't long into our search that we purchased a home. Well not really a home per say, but an empty space on top of a 24 story building, just two blocks from the Congress building in the heart of Buenos Aires.
Formally an office for one of the yellow and black taxi companies, the space had no hot water, no kitchen, no shower. It was a single empty room full of pillars, half-painted walls, a concrete floor, left over construction refuse, and a couple of old taxi signs. What it did have though is an amazing amount of potential and a view of the city that was unlike any we had ever
seen. For me it was a blank canvas waiting to be painted and turned into something more, and it's elevation above the city offered solitude and escape from the frenzied buzz of the streets below.In September (2008) we closed escrow and began the remodel. As the year progressed we searched and searched for a business space to lease but to no avail, and then it happened. The U.S. economy flipped upside down leaving the world both shaken and stirred. For awhile we weren't even sure how we stood in the volatile aftermath. As the dust settled we began step back from it all and eventually made the decision to refocus and rescale our attack. Instead of having a yoga and art studio somewhere in the city we decided to turn the place that we bought, apartment 24B, into both our home and a gallery space. Gallery 24B.
At the beginning of May, with all the major work of the remodel behind us we picked Friday, July 3rd as opening night, and since then have been working both day and night in preparation for it all. The living room area has been my makeshift studio where the midnight oil has been bringing a couple of new pieces to life. Ape t-shirts have been designed and are being printed. Paintings are being framed and hung. Gorilla stickers sit ready to disperse in the pockets of patrons in droves. Final touches like painting wood trim and installing terrace lighting are seeing their conclusion. The last bugs are working there way out of the new Jimmy Danko Gorilla Empire website and content is being flowed in (launches in a few days). And last but not least, wine and wine glasses are being ordered to toast to the night.It's going to be a f@#king awesome night (sorry I got excited). Not just a night to share my art, but a night for Annie and I, partners in crime, to show what we've created here in this big crazy South American city. So keep Friday night July 3rd open. We love to see you here.
I will post all the event details (where, when, etc.) in the next couple of days here on the blog as well as on facebook and anywhere else I can find to spread the Orange Gorilla.
Currently Reading:
Interviews with American Artists by David Sylvester
Currently Listening To:
Song: Tip of the Tongue
Artist: The Donnis Trio (on myspace) (on iTunes)
For more of how we ended up in Buenos Aires check out the first post of Harmony and Dissonance.
Monday, May 4, 2009
A Southern Loop - Chile and Back
On April 12th, 2009 we left Buenos Aires on a 20 day journey that would take us on a voyage around the southern tip of South America (Cape Horn) to Valparaiso, Chile, followed by a bus ride over the Andes, through Mendoza, Argentina and back to Buenos Aires...a "southern loop". The following are some of the things I saw the last week of the trip between Chile and home.
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE
Day 13 - Puerto Montt, Chile and color green
Puerto Montt is one of the last places reachable by car without the use of a ferry in southern Chile. Surrounded by national parks we made it our sole goal here to get out into the mountains and away from civilization.
it was interesting to see that even in these remote faraway places a common thread of artistic voice is sewn on the walls.
we took a taxi out to the mountains. yes, taking a taxi to a national park to go hiking seemed like an odd thing to do, however it was cheaper than renting a car and our driver was our personal guide through all the backroads we took to get there. when we hiked through the mountains later he merely slept in his black and yellow car at the park entrance till our return. win win for everyone.
Alerce Andino National Park was where our feet hit the ground. a lush, green, wet place. all around water flowed and dripped. it was hard to imagine it ever being dry there, the proof being in the street signs blanketed in rust.
below misty mountain tops
today was brought to you by the color green
looking down on the park from the base of a 2300 year old tree.
Day 14 - Surrounded by color in Valparaiso, Chile
On day 14 we said goodbye to the ship and hello to land for the remainder of the trip.
Valparaiso
Corrugated tin houses.
Stacked on a mountainside,
with rickety mountain cloud elevators.
Color on top of color.
Stray gray dogs,
with old dog eyes,
guarding graffiti ghosts
and dry dripping mural-ed voices
that descend into slanted canvas alleys,
framed with worn-in coffee shop wood,
all perched on a salty southern Pacific doorstep.
this stacked city is full of mountain elevators (ascensors).
280 Chilean pesos (US .50 cents) gets you a ride up or down.
covered in orange sunset tin
magic painted doors
"gorilla" riding the city bus
a 15 minute bus ride north took us to the beach town of Vina del Mar. there I got to take a Bikram class with my two favorite yoga instructors Don and Annie. it was a breathe of fresh air to travel to the other side of the continent and come upon the smiling face of a friend. (Don I'm jonesin' for some more of that bad-ass veggie/Chilean bread suprise you made us.)
Day 16 - The capitol city of Santiago
A 2 hour bus ride from Valparaiso took us inland to the skyscrapers and big city energy of Santiago.
Bus to Santiago
Afternoon front seat bus ride.
Seven dollar fair for:
Pacific marine clouds
burning off inland
into never-ending blue skies.
Rolling dry vineyard hills,
chaparral mountains,
and a dusty wide-open Chilean freeway.
California dreaming,
steady guardrail climbing.
Santiago skyscrapers,
grown amidst mountains.
Big city bus station arrival.
war of the titans
"gorilla" in capitol of Chile
looking down through the smog from the top of San Cristobal.
one of the greatest stores I have ever seen
Day 17 - Bus to Mendoza, Argentina
We were told by many that if we cross the Andes by across when we head back to Argentina it is a ready that is best done during the day. They were right. The ride to Mendoza is about 6 hours plus whatever amount of time it takes to pass through the border checkpoint. It took us 2 hours and from what we heard that was apparently fast. Aside from the ascending scenic drive into the mountains, most interesting part of the bus ride came at the border. All the border agents were donning there protective masks. The swine flu scare was in full swing. When we presented our American passports to the border agent he took one look and made a waving motion to some men on the other side of the building. Two soldiers shortly arrived and escorted us, along with a Swedish guy, across the large open bus-filled building to the enfermaria (sick bay) where doctors and more military personnel were standing by. The U.S. and Sweden were both countries known at the time to have reported cases of the flu, thus the reason we were pulled out of the line. We hadn't scheduled any time in our travel plans for being quarantined quick talk kept us from having to go through it. Once she explained that we hadn't been to the States in almost a year we were free to go. I never did see what happened to the Swedish guy, but I know that an enfermaria in a foreign country, in the middle of nowhere, would probably not have been the coolest place to hang out.
up
looking back at the snake of mountain switchbacks
fire hose border "gorilla"
the other side
Day 18 - Mendoza, Argentina
Wine country. Argentina is the 5th largest producer of wine in the world and Mendoza stands as the epicenter of it all for the country. I could go on in further detail about wonderful wine is here was but I don't really want to. Instead I rather share some of the more random things that happened here and the ideas that followed because of them them:
1. We spotted the mythical smile-producing dredlock mullet. I can't confirm this but I am fairly sure Argentina is the number one producer of mullets in the world.
2. Next to an abandoned velodrome we watched three Argentines learning how to fly-fish.
I am thankful to have had the chance to use the words velodrome, abandoned and fly-fish all in one sentence.
3. Rented bikes and bought ice cream from a grumpy old lady in the park. Conclusion: Grumpy old ladies do not have the power to buzz-kill ice cream when you're on a bike ride.
4. Trees are awesome. I miss trees.
5. How long does it take before selling ice cream in a park makes you jaded? Answer: not sure
6. Found old dilapidated swings and made them work again. Conclusion: Finding old dilapidated swings and making them work again is good for the soul.
7. Heard the song "More Than Words" by Extreme 3 times in one day while walking through the city of Mendoza. What the f**k?
8. The sidewalks in Mendoza are tiled, not paved.
9. Fireworks randomly going off throughout the day like cannons never gets old.
broken
unbroken
abandoned velodrome
Currently Listening To:
Song: The Moon
Artist: The White Buffalo
(when I lived in San Diego there were a few Southern California musicians that I was lucky enough to see on a regular basis. The White Buffalo was one of them. If he ever makes it to your town check him out.)
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE
Day 13 - Puerto Montt, Chile and color green
Puerto Montt is one of the last places reachable by car without the use of a ferry in southern Chile. Surrounded by national parks we made it our sole goal here to get out into the mountains and away from civilization.
it was interesting to see that even in these remote faraway places a common thread of artistic voice is sewn on the walls.
we took a taxi out to the mountains. yes, taking a taxi to a national park to go hiking seemed like an odd thing to do, however it was cheaper than renting a car and our driver was our personal guide through all the backroads we took to get there. when we hiked through the mountains later he merely slept in his black and yellow car at the park entrance till our return. win win for everyone.
Alerce Andino National Park was where our feet hit the ground. a lush, green, wet place. all around water flowed and dripped. it was hard to imagine it ever being dry there, the proof being in the street signs blanketed in rust.
below misty mountain tops
today was brought to you by the color green
looking down on the park from the base of a 2300 year old tree.
Day 14 - Surrounded by color in Valparaiso, Chile
On day 14 we said goodbye to the ship and hello to land for the remainder of the trip.
Valparaiso
Corrugated tin houses.
Stacked on a mountainside,
with rickety mountain cloud elevators.
Color on top of color.
Stray gray dogs,
with old dog eyes,
guarding graffiti ghosts
and dry dripping mural-ed voices
that descend into slanted canvas alleys,
framed with worn-in coffee shop wood,
all perched on a salty southern Pacific doorstep.
this stacked city is full of mountain elevators (ascensors).
280 Chilean pesos (US .50 cents) gets you a ride up or down.
covered in orange sunset tin
magic painted doors
"gorilla" riding the city bus
a 15 minute bus ride north took us to the beach town of Vina del Mar. there I got to take a Bikram class with my two favorite yoga instructors Don and Annie. it was a breathe of fresh air to travel to the other side of the continent and come upon the smiling face of a friend. (Don I'm jonesin' for some more of that bad-ass veggie/Chilean bread suprise you made us.)
Day 16 - The capitol city of Santiago
A 2 hour bus ride from Valparaiso took us inland to the skyscrapers and big city energy of Santiago.
Bus to Santiago
Afternoon front seat bus ride.
Seven dollar fair for:
Pacific marine clouds
burning off inland
into never-ending blue skies.
Rolling dry vineyard hills,
chaparral mountains,
and a dusty wide-open Chilean freeway.
California dreaming,
steady guardrail climbing.
Santiago skyscrapers,
grown amidst mountains.
Big city bus station arrival.
war of the titans
"gorilla" in capitol of Chile
looking down through the smog from the top of San Cristobal.
one of the greatest stores I have ever seen
Day 17 - Bus to Mendoza, Argentina
We were told by many that if we cross the Andes by across when we head back to Argentina it is a ready that is best done during the day. They were right. The ride to Mendoza is about 6 hours plus whatever amount of time it takes to pass through the border checkpoint. It took us 2 hours and from what we heard that was apparently fast. Aside from the ascending scenic drive into the mountains, most interesting part of the bus ride came at the border. All the border agents were donning there protective masks. The swine flu scare was in full swing. When we presented our American passports to the border agent he took one look and made a waving motion to some men on the other side of the building. Two soldiers shortly arrived and escorted us, along with a Swedish guy, across the large open bus-filled building to the enfermaria (sick bay) where doctors and more military personnel were standing by. The U.S. and Sweden were both countries known at the time to have reported cases of the flu, thus the reason we were pulled out of the line. We hadn't scheduled any time in our travel plans for being quarantined quick talk kept us from having to go through it. Once she explained that we hadn't been to the States in almost a year we were free to go. I never did see what happened to the Swedish guy, but I know that an enfermaria in a foreign country, in the middle of nowhere, would probably not have been the coolest place to hang out.
up
looking back at the snake of mountain switchbacks
fire hose border "gorilla"
the other side
Day 18 - Mendoza, Argentina
Wine country. Argentina is the 5th largest producer of wine in the world and Mendoza stands as the epicenter of it all for the country. I could go on in further detail about wonderful wine is here was but I don't really want to. Instead I rather share some of the more random things that happened here and the ideas that followed because of them them:
1. We spotted the mythical smile-producing dredlock mullet. I can't confirm this but I am fairly sure Argentina is the number one producer of mullets in the world.
2. Next to an abandoned velodrome we watched three Argentines learning how to fly-fish.
I am thankful to have had the chance to use the words velodrome, abandoned and fly-fish all in one sentence.
3. Rented bikes and bought ice cream from a grumpy old lady in the park. Conclusion: Grumpy old ladies do not have the power to buzz-kill ice cream when you're on a bike ride.
4. Trees are awesome. I miss trees.
5. How long does it take before selling ice cream in a park makes you jaded? Answer: not sure
6. Found old dilapidated swings and made them work again. Conclusion: Finding old dilapidated swings and making them work again is good for the soul.
7. Heard the song "More Than Words" by Extreme 3 times in one day while walking through the city of Mendoza. What the f**k?
8. The sidewalks in Mendoza are tiled, not paved.
9. Fireworks randomly going off throughout the day like cannons never gets old.
broken
unbroken
abandoned velodrome
Currently Listening To:
Song: The Moon
Artist: The White Buffalo
(when I lived in San Diego there were a few Southern California musicians that I was lucky enough to see on a regular basis. The White Buffalo was one of them. If he ever makes it to your town check him out.)
Saturday, April 25, 2009
A Southern Loop - Day 9 - The End of the World
It's after 10pm and I've managed to find a quiet corner of the ship void of people. The night is overcast so the sea is as dark as the sky is black. This is the second day in a row 'at sea' and I've found that my biggest challenge isn't dealing with the rocking and swaying of the Southern Pacific, but rather the near impossible task of finding a quiet place to sit with just the voices in my head as opposed to the voices of all the passengers aboard. As of right now, the solitude I've managed to find has come by way of downing two cups of coffee and then lurking in the shadows of the upper decks of the ship.
After Cape Horn we veered northwest towards Ushuaia, Argentina, the southern most city in the world. The city is located in a region of South America known as Tierra del Fuego, and has been a semi-frequent topic of discussion since we moved to Buenos Aires. Also known as Fin del Mundo (The End of the World) this place has stood as a distant curiosity to most people and despite my added research it remained shrouded by a blanket of translucent details. I had never met anyone who had actually been there, thus what little of it I heard from people had been passed on from friends of friends, adding a mythical air to this extreme southerly place.
Ushuaia's modern existence began as a penal colony and what I expected to see was a barren "end of the earth" port city, however unlike the islands that surround Cape Horn it was far from barren. It was a place that reminded me about what I missed most, outside of friends, about home (California). Like getting to a place that is absent of concrete. Where crowds of scrambling rambling people are replaced by the silence and stillness of towering masses of trees. Ascending a mountain and elevating a view. The smell of wet dirt, aging bark, and all of the other things that pervade the nose in the absence of consumption and exhaust. As I walked through the autumn air it didn't take long before I knew that some day, many months from now, I would eventually find my way back to this place, for just like the empty shadowy places I've grown found of disappearing to on this big moving mass of steel, the forested mountains of Ushuaia were a quiet place for the traffic jam of thoughts in my head to decongest themselves.
approaching port from sea
the "End of the World" post office
postal Gorilla
April means Fall in the Southern Hemisphere and every year this is the first place in the world that the colors of the leaves start to change.
Bahia Lapataia: where Argentine Highway 3 goes to die
looking down on the city of Ushuaia
Currently Reading:
Winslow Homer
by Carl Little
Currently Listening To:
As many of the voices in my head as I can and ...
Song: Where Is My Mind
Artist: Pixies
Album: Fight Club Soundtrack
(for T.Baas)
After Cape Horn we veered northwest towards Ushuaia, Argentina, the southern most city in the world. The city is located in a region of South America known as Tierra del Fuego, and has been a semi-frequent topic of discussion since we moved to Buenos Aires. Also known as Fin del Mundo (The End of the World) this place has stood as a distant curiosity to most people and despite my added research it remained shrouded by a blanket of translucent details. I had never met anyone who had actually been there, thus what little of it I heard from people had been passed on from friends of friends, adding a mythical air to this extreme southerly place.
Ushuaia's modern existence began as a penal colony and what I expected to see was a barren "end of the earth" port city, however unlike the islands that surround Cape Horn it was far from barren. It was a place that reminded me about what I missed most, outside of friends, about home (California). Like getting to a place that is absent of concrete. Where crowds of scrambling rambling people are replaced by the silence and stillness of towering masses of trees. Ascending a mountain and elevating a view. The smell of wet dirt, aging bark, and all of the other things that pervade the nose in the absence of consumption and exhaust. As I walked through the autumn air it didn't take long before I knew that some day, many months from now, I would eventually find my way back to this place, for just like the empty shadowy places I've grown found of disappearing to on this big moving mass of steel, the forested mountains of Ushuaia were a quiet place for the traffic jam of thoughts in my head to decongest themselves.
approaching port from sea
the "End of the World" post office
postal Gorilla
April means Fall in the Southern Hemisphere and every year this is the first place in the world that the colors of the leaves start to change.
Bahia Lapataia: where Argentine Highway 3 goes to die
looking down on the city of Ushuaia
Currently Reading:
Winslow Homer
by Carl Little
Currently Listening To:
As many of the voices in my head as I can and ...
Song: Where Is My Mind
Artist: Pixies
Album: Fight Club Soundtrack
(for T.Baas)
Thursday, April 23, 2009
A Southern Loop - Day 8 - Cape Horn
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE
450 miles from Antarctica.
With the wind scowling,
howling,
we run the Horn,
and dance with the two oceans.
Atlantic.
Pacific.
South of South.
On Day 8 of the 'Loop' I found myself for a moment completely south of South America. Cape Horn, a Chilean Island that lies just 450 miles north of Antarctica, is the place where the continent of South America ends and the two titans of the Pacific and Atlantic meet face to face. With the wind howling and a cocktail mix of two oceans surrounding us, our ship "ran the Horn" (circled the island). It was a strange thing to see and do. It wasn't strange to circle an island in a ship, but it was strange to be in a place that until now was just some extreme point on the shadowy bottom of a light-blue spinning, cardboard globe, or a little thought about answer on a 4th grade history test. The rawness of this place sits virtually unchanged since the discovery of its existence hundreds of years ago, and in its solemn desolation I couldn't help but feel like I was somehow moving, drifting through the shipwrecked ghosts of history.
Currently Reading:
Lord of the Rings
Fellowship of the Ring
J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently Listening To:
Song: Life On Mars?
Artist: Seu Jorge
450 miles from Antarctica.
With the wind scowling,
howling,
we run the Horn,
and dance with the two oceans.
Atlantic.
Pacific.
South of South.
On Day 8 of the 'Loop' I found myself for a moment completely south of South America. Cape Horn, a Chilean Island that lies just 450 miles north of Antarctica, is the place where the continent of South America ends and the two titans of the Pacific and Atlantic meet face to face. With the wind howling and a cocktail mix of two oceans surrounding us, our ship "ran the Horn" (circled the island). It was a strange thing to see and do. It wasn't strange to circle an island in a ship, but it was strange to be in a place that until now was just some extreme point on the shadowy bottom of a light-blue spinning, cardboard globe, or a little thought about answer on a 4th grade history test. The rawness of this place sits virtually unchanged since the discovery of its existence hundreds of years ago, and in its solemn desolation I couldn't help but feel like I was somehow moving, drifting through the shipwrecked ghosts of history.
Currently Reading:
Lord of the Rings
Fellowship of the Ring
J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently Listening To:
Song: Life On Mars?
Artist: Seu Jorge
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