I’d like to start this part by busting the first and the most in need to be debunked myth about Argentina – the myth that states that people there speak English. In fact, hardly anyone or almost no one (whichever you prefer) in Argentina speaks English. I am sure that plenty of fine polyglots are roaming the streets of Buenos Aires, eager to strike a conversation with you in your favorite language, but for some reason they don’t make themselves obvious. Barring an accidental run-in with one of the elusive English speakers, you’ll need to learn Spanish or spend your vacation as a deaf-mute, using an elaborate sign language you just invented and a series of grunts and noises to explain what you want ( I went as far as handing a pen and a piece of paper to an orange juice vendor so he could scribble the price on it). It is also highly unlikely that you will understand anything being said to you. Cab drivers, restaurant employees, shopkeepers, people on the street, criminals – everyone you will need to communicate with – will stare at you trying but unable to understand your words and gestures. Even if you honed your Spanish talking to the janitor at work and ordering your favorite tacos at an authentic Mexican joint, chances are you will have a problem with the version of Spanish spoken in Buenos Aires; it’s a crazy mix of a dialect no longer used in Spain with Italian and every other language willing to contribute. To be fair, hotel employees, travel industry workers and personnel at the tourist-oriented venues will have some degree of English, but outside of these places you are on your own. I highly suggest ignoring what the guide books have to say on the subject and learning at least a bit of Spanish.
It’s hard to put a finger on what’s so different about Buenos Aires; even after almost two weeks there, I couldn’t stop taking pictures of the streets, buildings and everything around me.
It’s a city with the crazy mix of architecture, where it’s not unusual to see four or five styles of buildings on the same block;
This set of ads is about home appliances and electronics from the time when TV’s had legs but no colors, cameras used film and keyboards connected to paper.
One of the reasons I visit the Russian store so rarely is my complete inability to stay away from Russian candy. They have chocolates, boxed and bulk, non-chocolate candy and other sweets. No matter how much I buy, they are gone within few days and no gimmicks or rationing tricks work to keep me from eating handfuls of chocolates until they are all gone. The only souvenir I brought from my last trip to New York was a suitcase full of Russian chocolates. Russian chocolates are tastier and more creative than their American mass-produced counterparts, they seem to use real chocolate and at $5.69/lb are a bargain. At the store you can grab a few pieces out of every bin, they are all conveniently priced the same.
Another favorite of mine is Zefir. Calling it a marshmallow is a blasphemy but there is no better English word to describe this airy, light, sweet and slightly tart dessert, which doesn’t need to be melted, burned or otherwise abused to make it edible.
There are two Russian stores in the area: European Delights and Taste of Russia. Note that European Delights moved to the shopping center on the Southwest corner of the 95th street and Antioch, pretty much across the Antioch street from where it used to be and Google maps may not be current.
UPDATE: DLC, the eating force behind Kansas City Lunch Spots, visited one of the stores in this post and bravely ate lunch there. Please read his review and my comments there.
I know, I know, these are pictures of Hitler. And maybe it’s not the best idea to put them here, me being who I am. But these photos are amazing, shot by Hitler’s personal photographer Hugo Jaeger in color and such close proximity that as a fan of historic photography I cannot just pass them by. And yes, I know what was happening while Hitler was greeting adoring women, checking out cars and watching parades, and I have these photos too. If anything these photos make one wonder how a grim, plain-looking and not extremely bright individual could achieve absolute power over a civilized country.
The ad wizards who thought it was a great idea to put small print on a highway billboard came up with another gem.
Here are my suggestions for the future billboards:
My car kicked your car’s rear end;
My car’s big black tailpipe is longer than your car’s tailpipe;
My car took away your car’s gas money;
My car swallowed a luxury car and now it craps exhausts luxury;
My car voted for McCain;
If you come up with your own winning caption I will throw in up to 700 miles for your choice of a magazine subscription.
Continuing with the subject of advertising if your child is composing/performing a jingle about the hemorrhoid treatment center, you are within your rights to demand back all the money you’ve spent on the music lessons. (the jingle starts on the 20th second of the clip).
